"Purity" in Morals

Here is a claim I think is obviously true, but which I'm not sure I've ever seen anyone state clearly, and which in any case doesn't seem to be as significant to people as I think it should be: Decision theory is the pure doctrine of prudence, in Kant's sense: it is the parallel of what Kant does in the first two parts of the "Groundwork for the Metaphysic of Morals". This claim I mean strictly and rigorously; Kantian ethicists who mock decision theory are as misguided as utilitarians who denigrate the Moral Law itself.

Here is why I think people miss this obvious truth: Decision theory is not "pure", in Kant's sense, because it is not independent of psychology; it is not entirely unempirical, despite being largely mathematized. But Kant's own work is also not independent of psychology, as anyone who has taught Kant's own examples from the second section of the "Groundwork" is well aware: Kant helps himself to just a little bit of psychology, to the claim that (as Plato had already said in the second book of the "Republic") each human has many desires, and no one can satisfy these desires without assistance from others. Kant doesn't realize how much of a cheat this is, and so keeps up the artificial attempt to build ethics on this thin of an account of the human -- it is thus no accident that the full "Metaphysic of Morals" has so much rubbish in it, as Kant was building on sand. Hegel's ethics is free of this artificial limitation that Kant had laid down for ethics, but still shows all the limitations of Hegel's own parochialisms (sexism, racism, nostalgia for guilds and wariness of mass suffrage). So the obvious lack of "purity" in decision theory is not a barrier to granting it status parallel to Kant's own (hypothetical) derivation of the Moral Law in the first two sections of the "Groundwork": that work is itself not really pure, once it has been properly understood. By Kant's own standards, nothing is really "pure": and so what is reasonably called "pure" is not going to meet Kant's strictures.

That there is still something to the "pure"/"empirical" distinction I think is clearly shown by the case of decision theory: decision theory is not like the mass of information that is involved in making actual decisions; avoidance of dutch books in decision theory is clearly akin to crafting reductio proofs, as anyone who has played a little with both must realize. There's some sort of categorical difference between keeping a dutch book and simply making an unwise choice: this is what I think the "pure"/"empirical" distinction should aim to make clear. But even the terms used in labelling the distinction make this difficult. Hence much becomes muddled when thinking about practical philosophy.

Unrelated: I wrote a dissertation, you can find it open-access here.

Peregrin on "Logic and Reasoning"

I just finished listening to this talk; I quite liked it. Peregrin defends the view that logic is "constitutive" of rationality, and not merely normative for it: the laws of logic make the game of giving and asking for reasons possible, not what tells you which moves within the game are good ones or bad ones to make. This isn't a new idea, but I very much liked seeing someone defend it without leaning on the fact that they are also trying to exposit Kant's views on general logic, or the views of the author of the Tractatus.

There is one bit that struck me as odd, though, which is why I'm writing this post: at one point Peregrin is concerned to show that his view can still claim that logic is "a supreme arbiter of rationality" despite not allowing the laws of logic to be violated (in general -- he allows occasional violations by single members of linguistic communities, but says very little about the details of how even this could happen given that the laws violated constitute the act which is supposed to defy them). His reply seems odd, though: He says that being rational may be "having implications, negations, etc., not using them in an appropriate way."

This seems wrong for at least two reasons. One is that minutes earlier he'd allowed that there might be linguistic communities which don't have implication (a group in Siberia studied by a Soviet scientist is discussed as a possible example), and so don't have modus ponens because of this. So, what he put on his slide seems to contradict his own commentary on it, unless he wants those linguistic communities to fail to be rational (which is obviously undesirable). The other is a generalization of the point Peregrin made when he allowed for a linguistic community to lack "implication": Why should the material conditional, classical negation, exclusive disjunction, etc. be so important for being rational as such? They seem to be of fairly recent invention, and sit uneasily next to the ordinary-language terms often used to characterize them (as anyone who has ever had to teach undergraduates well knows). How could having them in one's language be so important as to constitute the game of giving and asking for reasons?

The remedy to this, I think, is just what Sebastian Rödl talks about in the first chapter of "Categories of the Temporal": we should retain the idea that logic is constitutive of thought as such, but not identify this logic with a calculus (and so in particular not with classical logic and its material conditional etc.): the possession of any particular logical calculus is an optional tool in reasoning, not constitutive of it. The kind of logic which is constitutive of thought as such is transcendental logic, not general logic: it essentially involves reference to thought's relationship to its objects (and so refers to inquiry, the process by which those objects are known). Being rational cannot plausibly be "having implications, negations, etc." but it is (at least plausibly) having distinctions of truth and falsity, of oneself as an inquirer who can err and be corrected by others or correct oneself, of the objects of inquiry as being capable (at least in many cases) of settling questions about them when some are in error or ignorant of them, etc. It is hard to see how one can be a rational subject without such notions; it is the task of a transcendental logic to outline them and give their laws, without which thought as such is impossible.

I think this sort of view also helps to make sense of so-called disagreements in logic (as between classical and intuitionist logicians, or dialetheists and everyone else): they are not expressing conflicting views on "the" logic constitutive of thought as such (which would have to be a transcendental logic), but expressing views which disagree with one another on which calculus captures the laws of thought as such (or which are normatively correct in describing how one should proceed if one wishes to think rationally, as they tend to think of it). Accepting or rejecting the law of excluded middle, or rejecting (and not merely accepting) the law of noncontradiction can then be seen not as doing the impossible (if laws of logic are constitutive of thought as such), but as advancing rival views on a distinct question -- one which the transcendental logician may reject as relying on a false assumption, that the logic of thought as such is the logic of a calculus, is general and not transcendental logic. So long as it is not among the laws of transcendental logic that one has a particular view of transcendental logic (which would be a surprising result), the disagreements in logic do not need to be seen as violating laws which are constitutive of thought as such, and can be regarded as genuine disagreements without overturning the view of logical laws as constitutive.

It might be thought that the existence of dialetheists still posed a problem: Didn't I say that a distinction between truth and falsity was (plausibly) involved in the laws of transcendental logic, and isn't this just what the dialetheists want to argue about? Are they not still seemingly violating the laws which are supposed to be constitutive of thought as such?

I think not: Even in the extreme case of Graham Priest's acceptance of every version of the denial of the law of noncontradiction he is presented with, one can find him affirming (in "Doubt Truth to Be a Liar") that one cannot both affirm and deny a proposition simultaneously. He views this as a psychological claim, and his ultimate evidence for it is phenomenological, but he recognizes that he needs something of this sort to make his own views so much as stateable: if he has access to no such distinction as this, then he can't intelligibly say that even dialetheists believe that there are monaletheias (propositions which are only true or false, and not both): without something in his system to keep two truth-values apart in the end, there is nothing to keep his opponent from asking "Yes, yes, you accept that P is true and not false, and is a monoletheia -- but how do I know you don't also hold it to be false and not true, and a dialetheia?" (The context in which Priest invokes an absolute psychological-phenomenological distinction between affirmation and denial is one in which he has rehearsed the many "revenge" Liars that a dialetheistical treatment of the Liar leads to; Priest needs some way to handle "This sentence is false and is a monoletheia", which on his treatment is both true and false and has both one and two truth-values, without undermining his own view that dialetheism is compatible with classical monoletheic logic "mostly" holding in everyday reasoning. I would look at my copy of the book to confirm this and find references, but I am lazy and as far as I know I'm the only person who feels a need both to defend the constitutive view of the laws of logic and to make sense of Graham Priest.) So I think that Priest can be seen as still abiding by (and affirming and not denying) the distinction between truth and falsity at the level of generality at which transcendental logic needs to deal with such truth-values: he just has peculiar views about how truth-predicates should be used in formal languages, etc. When it comes to knowing that when a question has been settled in inquiry it is not also still open, or that we can err when we hold that a question has been settled or not and might need reopening, Priest (and I think any other dialetheist who considers the issue) says nothing but what the transcendental logician says we all know qua rational beings: what is, is, and what is not, is not.

Rödl on Kant's First Analogy of Experience

Here's how Kant states the First Analogy in the A-edition of KRV, where it is labelled the "Principle of Permanence": "All appearances contain the permanent (substance) as the object itself, and the transitory as its mere determination, that is, as a way in which the object exists." (A182)

In the B-edition of KRV, Kant adds a paragraph to the beginning of this section. In "Logical Form as a Relation to the Object", Sebastian Rödl goes through this paragraph sentence-by-sentence (omitting some parenthetical remarks of Kant's and the final sentence). As Rödl presents it, Kant argues as follows (following the Kemp Smith translation, B224-5; each of these is a single sentence of Kant's German):

1) All appearances are in time; and in it alone, as substratum [...], can either coexistence or succession be represented.

2) Thus the time in which all change of appearances has to be thought, remains and does not change. For it is that in which, and as determinations of which, succession or coexistence can alone be represented.

3) Now time cannot by itself be perceived.

4) Consequently there must be found in the objects of perception, that is, in the appearances, the substratum which represents time in general; and all change or coexistence must, in being apprehended, be perceived in this substratum, and through relation of the appearances to it.

5) But the substratum of all that is real [...] is substance; and all that belongs to existence can be thought only as a determination of substance.

Claim 1) is established by the Transcendental Aesthetic. See II.ss4.1, the first paragraph of the Metaphysical Exposition of the Concept of Time, for the argument; the idea is that we can't build up to a representation of time by first perceiving items as simultaneous or sequential and then abstracting "time" out of those perceptions, since perceiving them in that way requires already seeing them as in time: so the representation of time is a priori, as it is only against the background of time that we can represent things as simultaneous or sequential.

2) follows from 1): if we need to use time as a background against which to represent things as happening simultaneously or sequentially, then representing anything as changing will also require this (as changes are sequential: there is something changed from and something changed to). The background against which change is represented is not itself represented as changing, but is what makes the change intelligible as a change. As this background is time, time must be represented as remaining without change. Rödl here notes that it seems that the way to represent the logical form of thoughts of items in time is as "determinations of time", as Kant says: something like "A exists at t1", with the time "t#" being part of what the thought determines. Simultaneity would then be existence at the same t#, succession would be existence at a later or earlier t#.

3) I am sure Kant argues for somewhere, but I'm not finding a reference at the moment. That time is not itself an empirical intuition follows from the argument for 1), but I don't see where Kant actually makes that inference explicit. But it's a trivial enough point that he hardly needs to: once a distinction is noted between perceiving objects in time and perceiving time itself, it is easy to grant that we do the former and not the latter. (There's a reason we need clocks.) Rödl notes that this simple point poses a problem for the idea that the way to represent an item in time is "A exists at t1": we are trying to articulate the logical form of an appearance of something in time. So if the logical form of an item with a temporal position (simultaneous with, earlier than, or later than some other item) is "A exists at t#", then we cannot be given any items with temporal positions in perception, as perception does not provide us with a time to put for the schematic "t#".

4) From this Kant concludes that "there must be found in the objects of perception [...] the substratum which represents time in general": Rödl puts the point thusly: "what is given in intuition—appearances—as such contain something that represents time in the sense that something is conceived as a determination of time in virtue of being apprehended as a determination of it. Apprehending A and B as determinations of this thing, we apprehend A and B as succeeding, or as simultaneous with, one another." (p.365) The problem with thinking that "A exists at t1" could represent the logical form of a thought of an appearance having a temporal position was that nothing was given which could stand in for a "t#": the solution is to see A as a determination of time (as having a temporal position determined in the thinking of it) in virtue of it being represented as a determination of something which is given in perception, and which functions as a substratum against which simultaneity and succession can be represented.

5) And here Kant draws the conclusion of the Principle of Permanence: All appearances are in time, as the Transcendental Aesthetic established; this entails that they are given to us as simultaneous with one another or earlier or later than one another. To be represented in this way (which they must be to be given to us as appearances in time), there must be found in these appearances something which is grasped as a substratum against which temporal positions can be apprehended, and the various temporal positions must be represented against the background of such a substratum. But such a substratum in appearance is just what the Principle of Permanence calls "substance": there is in all appearances in time a distinction that can be made between substance and "mere determination", which Rödl calls "state". Rödl puts it this way: "We perceive that A succeeds or is simultaneous with B, as we apprehend A and B as determinations of time [by perceiving them thus]. And we apprehend A and B as determinations of time, not by predicating A and B of a time as in “[A exists at t1 and B exists at t2] ”, but by predicating A and B of a substance as in “S was A and is B” . Temporal thought bears a predicative structure. It is not articulated into a time and what is at this time, but rather into a substance and its states. It is in virtue of being thus articulated that a thought distinguishes a time from what is at this time and thus represents its object as temporal. This completes the proof." (p.365) "S was A and is B" represents a substance, 'S', which can be in different states at different times (is now B, was previously A) while remaining the same substance. Thoughts which represent substances as substances exhibit this form: the substance thought of is known as something which can bear contrary predicates at different times, as Aristotle put it; it is a perceptible item which can be seen to change or remain the same at different times. Being able to perceive such items is what enables us to have appearances which have a temporally order internal to how they are given to us: thinking thoughts of the form "S was/is F" is how we can represent some appearances as coming before, after, or alongside others. A Hume-style skeptic about substance needs to make this intelligible by thinking thoughts of the form "A exists at t1" and "B exists at t2", and this cannot be done, as time is not perceptible. Thus the proof against this sort of skepticism is complete: in all appearances substances are given, as the substrate of changeable states.

Rödl continues on to note a few things from the later pages of the Analogy, but the impression given is that the rest is a mop-up operation: the important work is already done in that first five sentences. There is a small puzzle about this, given that these sentences were added in the B-edition, and replaced a short section that doesn't contain this argument. But I think it's plausible that the argument Kant puts more clearly in those five sentences can be found in the first few paragraphs of the A-version Analogy, spread out more widely and unclearly.

There are two more puzzling things about Rödl's handling of the First Analogy. One is that it might seem that Rödl's way of handling perception of time-positions can't handle the relative positions of states of distinct substances. I will handle this indirectly, by first looking at something Rödl points out. It might be thought that one advantage of representing temporal thought by "A exists at t#" is that the various numbers which slot in for '#' will all line up of themselves: t1 is before t2, which is before t3, etc. But this is an illusion: "the things to which “t1” and “t2” refer, and the unity of these, cannot be perceived. Here nothing satisfies “the condition of the empirical unity of time” (A 188/B 231). By contrast, in “S was A and now is B”, there is no need to connect two things determined by A and B respectively, for there is only one thing, the substance, determined by both. Its unity represents the unity of time. In this way is the “condition of the empirical unity of time” satisfied." (p.366) That is, the attempt to represent temporal thought by "A exists at t1" and "B exists at t2" etc. fails to satisfy a demand established by the Transcendental Aesthetic: there is only one time, and all times are limitations of it. There is nothing in the representation of temporal appearances by "A exists at t#" which guarantees that everything which stands in for "t#" will be part of a single time. Rödl's way does meet this demand: If S was A and is now B, this can only happen in a single time through which S persists, as is represented by the single symbol 'S' in the notation.

Now, what does that have to do with the following worry: Rödl's way can't handle "S is A" and "P is B" being simultaneous, since those two thoughts don't share a substance? Here I think I see why Rödl talks of "states" and not "properties" or "determinations": it is tempting to think that there is something special about monadic properties or determinations, but it is much less tempting to think this about states. The 'A' in "S is A" can perfectly well be "near the P which is B"; this is a state a substance can be in, and the thought of it includes the time-determination of the other substance, and represents the empirical unity of the times in which these substances exist. Here I am speculating as to how Rödl handles this question; it seems like something he should address, but I haven't read anything where he takes it up. But I don't see any reason my way wouldn't do fine for him: relational states are perfectly good states, and an appearance of multiple substances in relational states will satisfy Kant's demand to respect the empirical unity of time. (The Transcendental Aesthetic can, I think, already be taken to have shown that all appearances will be related in a single time; it will thus not be necessary to further guarantee that all states of substances will be so related, as these are merely a species of the genus "appearance". That is to say, I do not need to establish that all substances will stand in relational states to one another which determine their time-relations; the Aesthetic does the needed work. What is needed is only to provide a way of presenting substances in thought which does not violate the condition of the empirical unity of time, as "A exists at t#" did. Provided that substances are in fact related to one another in time, polyadic state-variables represent them as in a single time.)

There is another puzzling thing about Rödl's way of handling the First Analogy. The five-sentence proof from Kant he looks at is only in the B-edition, but he only presents the A-edition's statement of the Principle of Permanence. Related to this, he does not discuss the last sentence of the paragraph added to the B-edition: "And as it is thus unchangeable in its existence, its quantity in nature can be neither increased nor diminished." This sentence goes along with the B-edition statement of the (slightly renamed) "Principle of Permanence of Substance", which says "In all change of appearances substance is permanent; its quantum in nature is neither increased nor diminished."

Rödl mentions this sentence only in a footnote: "We disregard the last sentence of the proof (“Da diese also im Dasein nicht wechseln kann, so kann ihr Quantum in der Natur auch weder vermehrt noch vermindert werden.”), which does not pertain to anything stated in the First Analogy in the A-edition. It is a further thought, with its own difficulties, which lie beyond the scope of this essay." (p.369)

Now, it is curious that Kant changes the statements of the principles of the Analogies in the B-edition. But he leaves so much of the argumentation unchanged in these sections that it seems hard to deny that he thought he merely reworded them, and left their substance unchanged. But I think Rödl is simply right about this much: Nothing in the First Analogy in the A-edition supports the claim that the quantity of substance in nature is constant. Substances are things which can change in various ways while remaining the same substances; Kant tells us nothing here about why "quantity in nature" is something unchangeable. More problematically, I don't think Kant has given a sense to "quantum" here: Does he mean that substance in nature does not change in total mass, or in total energy, or in total extension, or in some other quantity measured in some other way? There are many quantities of substance in nature which do change: the number of dinosaurs is a quantity in nature. As far as I've been able to tell, at this point in the Transcendental Logic Kant has no grounds whatsoever for speaking of a single quantity of any sort which is constant for all substance at all times: the Principle of Permanence is entirely compatible with an Aristotelian world of many finite substances with different natures and different ways of being. (The only thing I can find which can even pretend to be an argument otherwise is the Anticipations of Perception, with its talk of intensive magnitudes of reality -- but this section also does not establish that there is a single scale of reality-magnitude, but only that any reality given in sensation is given in a scaleable way.)

Here I suspect Kant changed the B-edition of KRV to make it line up more smoothly with his physics, which he had in the meantime laid a groundwork for in "Metaphysical Foundations of Natural Science". But this sort of move is illicit, by Kant's own standards: principles of a special science such as physics are not established before the System of Principles of the Pure Understanding, as these pure principles are used in determining the principles of the special sciences (which are partly empirical: in MFoNS Kant relies on experience for the claim that bodies have weight, if memory serves). If Kant hasn't established that the sort of substance which must be found in the appearances to make experience possible is the kind his preferred empirical science talks about, he shouldn't pretend otherwise: and viewed from our later vantage-point, we should feel welcome to jettison the supposed necessity of Kant's Newtonianish physics, and feel no compulsion at all to read it back into the Analogies -- even if Kant himself did this while revising the B-edition. It is only Kantian for us to attempt to understand the philosopher better than he understood himself.

"Kantian Humility"

I read about half of Rae Langton's "Kantian Humility"; I skimmed the chapters between the one on phenomenal substance and the one on primary/secondary qualities. Here are some thoughts I had.

She latches on to some passages that I find fairly opaque, and is able to give a sense to them (the stuff about matter being constituted by "mere relations"), but I felt like her overall interpretation was severely hindered by her unwillingness to discuss core arguments of the Transcendental Analytic. For instance, she doesn't commit herself to any view as to how the argument for the First Analogy is supposed to work. But, she's committed to reading "phenomenal substance" as akin to "wax duck": phenomenal substances just aren't substances (and in her defense, she shows that this is how Wolff used the phrase); the schematized category of substance is not a species of the pure category for her, and on her reading Kant denies that we are ever given anything in experience which "can only be thought as subject, not as predicate". She puts a lot of weight on Kant's remark that we can make anything a "logical subject" in a judgement without that saying anything about whether or not it's a substance ("Love is abiding" and "Yellow is pale" don't make love or yellow into metaphysical substances), and holds that this shows that treating "matter" as a substance is only done by Kant in a "comparative sense": that it is a logical subject relative to empirical predicates of matter, not that it can't be thought of as a predicate of the thing-in-itself. And in fact she holds that this is how it is: the only substances for her Kant are things-in-themselves, which can't be thought as predicates of anything. (She assumes this throughout, without any argument that I saw. I don't know why someone like Spinoza wouldn't deny it, and claim that these monadic "substances" are in fact mere predicates of God; I've never been clear on how Leibniz prevents his monads from collapsing into God in this way, though it's clear he wants them not to.) All of this means that, in fact, no knowledge of substance can play any part at all in the First Analogy: the subsistent in time is only a permanent predicate, not something which can only be thought as subject. This strikes me as ruling out any plausible interpretation of the First Analogy, as it makes the relationship between its principle and the category associated with it essentially null.

She constantly turns to Kant's physics when discussing what Kant means by "matter", and reads his dynamical theory of matter as providing argumentative support for large swathes of the critical philosophy. (How this doesn't render the entire project circular is a problem I don't think she ever addresses: From what I recall of the Metaphysical Foundations of Nature, Kant uses the Analogies to argue for his force-theory. So he can't presume that this is how matter works when arguing for the Analogies themselves.) But if the permanent in experience is the matter explicated by Kant's physics, then it's not something we are consciously aware of as such: attractive and repulsive forces are not something we can sense directly. She takes a very radical move here, and severs the connection between the senses and intuition: she reads the Third Analogy's principle as committing Kant to the view that all matter affects us at all times, and that it is only because most of these effects are too small ("lacking in reality") to be brought to consciousness that prevents us from being aware of all objects at all times. This puts Kant's view of experience very close to Leibniz's: every subject represents the entire world at all times. In her defense, she quotes Kant saying things that seem close to this radical a view in his reply to Eberhard in "On a New Discovery etc.", which I haven't read. (I remembered reading Allison's introduction to it years ago, and then skimming the text to confirm that it was how Allison had said it was. But all of the details are now lost to me.)

But if this sort of neo-Leibnizian view is Kant's, then it seems simply incoherent: if external bodies are given to us only by means of attractive/repulsive forces, then the fact that forces sum means that external bodies are not given to us individually: two forces of velocity X and one force of velocity 2X are not distinguishable, and so all of those remote objects which Langton's Kant has making "subconscious" effects on us are not distinguishable (in principle) from a single external object making a single impression on us whose force is the sum of those effects. It might seem that her Kant also faces the problem of how to distinguish between proximal and distal causes of the effects on us, but I think that's actually not a problem for her Kant if the issue of forces summing isn't: since Newtonian forces act instantaneously at a distance, a proximal and a distal stimuli simply produce distinct forces on us, and so if these forces can be distinguished then so can the proximal and distal stimuli.

I don't think Leibniz's view has these problem, because Leibniz thinks that forces, which are relational properties of bodies, are "well-founded phenomena" which reduce down to simple properties of monads: so the representation in a single monad of some particular lump sum of force is analyzable (by God, not by us finite provers) into non-relational properties of monads, and it is only by means of these non-relational properties that Leibniz has each monad representing the entire world. But Kant is adamant about relations not being reducible to non-relational properties, as Langton shows at length, so I don't see how her Kant can go from the forces to anything which represents the world -- even setting aside that Kant has independent arguments against Leibniz in these quarters (such as Leibniz presuming the identity of indiscernibles, which is needed to make his monads "represent" individual objects by means of non-relational descriptions of them). I don't know how her Kant is supposed to be able to represent individual objects merely by having forces impinging upon it at all, but she is explicit that this sort of physical interactionism is what drives Kant's thoughts about thought's receptivity.

I found the book disappointing overall, but if Langton's not right about what "matter being constituted by mere relations" means, I don't know what those passages in Kant mean. (Langton can here apply Modus Tollens; I apply Modus Ponens.) So the book is worth looking at just to see how she handles the passages her view handles well; it is a desideratum for any alternative view of Kant's matter-doctrine to be able to handle them as smoothly, but without sacrificing so much of the rest of Kantianism.

Dummett's Frege and Rödl

I have not been good at blogging recently; I have neglected comments for about a year, and have written nothing. Apologies to those who I did not respond to (which by my records include Daniel Nagase, N.N., Charles Wolverton, Evan Kuehn, and Duck; I could make excuses for this bad behavior, but they would be of merely psychological importance, and that's a poor way to start a Frege post).

But if I cannot manage to blog well, then I should at least blog badly more often; here then are things I typed to try to get clear to myself on what Rödl is getting from the Dummett essay he leans on in the first chapter of "Categories of Temporality".

In "The Context Principle: Centre of Frege's Philosophy" Dummett claims that Frege tried to use the context principle to justify his "realism", his treatment of numbers as objects, while simultaneously using it to answer the question of how numbers can be given to us ("epistemologically", in Dummett's term). Dummett's idea is that Frege tried to answer this question (and establish his realism) by fixing the truth-values of every sentence in which a number-word appeared; in the Grundgesetze, this is fixing the truth-value of every sentence in which a term for a value-range appears.

The line of thought seems to be this:
1. Frege can fix the truth-values of sentences by (in part) stipulation, going through each possible combination of a value-range term with a primitive concept-term and assuring that it has a truth-value.
2. For Frege truth-values are the Bedeutungen of sentences.
3. The context principle: the Bedeutung of a subsentential term is determined only by the way it contributes to the Bedeutungen of the sentences it appears in.
Which gives Dummett's Frege the conclusion that by stipulating truth-values for each (atomic) sentence in which a value-range term appears, he has also settled what the Bedeutungen of value-range terms are.

Dummett contrasts this to a way of providing terms with Bedeutungen which would go against the context principle: first establish the domain over which the variables of the language can range, and then determine for each term of the language which needs a Bedeutung which of the items from that domain is to be its Bedeutung. As this initial domain-determination requires a grasp of the possible values of variables anterior to the securing of Bedeutungen to the sentences of the language in which those variables appear, it violates Dummett's version of the context principle.

Dummett spends some time on the objection that one might ascend to a metalanguage to avoid this violation of the context principle: if the domain-determination for the object language takes place in sentences of another language, then the context principle is not sinned against. But Dummett argues that Frege did not mean to be giving Bedeutungen to the terms of Begriffschrift which were already understood by anyone who could read his German: this would make some of Frege's prose a necessary element of his logic, which Frege clearly wants to avoid. The Begriffschrift is supposed to stand on its own, with the German prose serving only as a propaedeutic to its understanding; in particular, if the question of whether numbers are objects or how they may be given to us is to be solved by the Grundgesetze project, then it cannot rely on the German-reader's already knowing these objects and including them in the domains over which Begriffschrift variables are allowed to range.

Dummett's objection to Frege here is put rather tersely, and I am writing this post because I need to do some work to unpack it for myself: "The fallacy appeared at the very first step. The stipulations governing the primitive functors [what I called concept-words, above], including the criterion of identity for value-ranges embodied in Axiom V, could be determinate only if the domain, consisting wholly or largely of value-ranges, was determinate; but the domain was in the process of being determined by fixing the Bedeutungen of the value-range terms, and so the procedure went round in a circle." (p.18)

The circle seems to be this: Frege tries to establish that among the objects are value-ranges (the Bedeutungen of value-range terms) by stipulating truth-values for each atomic sentence which results from combining a value-range term and a primitive function of Begriffschrift. But the sentences which are here stipulated to have truth-values can only have truth-values if the domains over which their variables range is determinate; an indeterminacy in the domain means an indeterminacy in what can count as the sentence being true or false, and Frege's stipulations do not settle this question about domains. In fact, Frege wants to settle questions about domains by securing Bedeutungen for his primitive terms, so that he can settle the question of whether numbers are objects, and how numbers can be given to us, by making clear how sentences featuring number-words function in inference. So he both needs to settle the domain issue prior to his procedure and only by means of it, which is contradictory. This is why he is able to think he has given Bedeutungen to all of his Begriffschrift expressions such that all of his Basic Laws are true, when in fact they are jointly inconsistent (because of Basic Law V, whose Bedeutung was supposed to be settled by the procedure of securing Bedeutungen for value-range terms).

Dummett's verdict here is despair. His closing paragraph:
"The realist interpretation could be jettisoned without abandoning the context principle itself, but only if that principle, as here understood, can be shown to be coherent; and this remains in grave doubt. And yet it is hard to see how it can be abandoned, so strong is the motivation for it. The alternative is an apprehension of objects, including abstract objects, underlying, but anterior to, an understanding of reference to them, or, indeed, a grasp of thought about them; and this is a form of [what Putnam calls] external realism too coarse to be entertained. I am therefore forced to conclude without either endorsing the central feature of Frege's philosophy or rejecting it; I can do no more than to say lamely that the issue if one whose resolution is of prime importance to philosophy." (p.19)

This is where Rödl intervenes: he claims that the context principle can be saved (and should be saved), but only by rejecting the idea that a logic such as the Begriffschrift can be said to present us with the form of thought as such. As Dummett argued, a coherent version of Frege requires something other than Begriffschrift to settle the question of what objects Begriffschrift is about; Begriffschrift cannot take care of itself, but needs the "pinch of salt" Frege infamously asks his readers for. The distinguishing characteristic of Begriffschrift Rödl picks out for blame here is that Begriffschrift expressions are characterized only by their inferential structure: a Begriffschrift expression is to have its meaning fixed solely by determining how it figures in lines of a Begriffschrift proof. This is what Frege really fixes by his procedures: how Begriffschrift expressions are to be used in constructing Begriffschrift proofs. But Rödl claims that this fails to settle the question of how Begriffschrift expressions relate to their objects, for the reasons Dummett gave: and this is why Frege fails to notice that his logic cannot take care of itself, as part of what determines the thoughts expressible in Begriffschrift is the relation of these thoughts to their objects, and not merely the relations of these thoughts to each other, and this is why Frege fails to determine thoughts expressible in Begriffschrift in the way he believed he had. So the form of thought as such cannot simply be an inferential order, but must already determine the relation of thoughts to their objects in a way that Frege's logic did not.

The option Dummett's despair overlooks is that of determining the truth-values of sentences not in a way anterior to their relatedness to their objects, but only by already having in view these sentences' relatedness to their objects. Dummett's Frege erred in trying to secure relatedness to objects only indirectly, by means of securing the inferential functions of thoughts, and Dummett as sees the only alternative to secure the relatedness to objects of thoughts to be that of grasping thoughts and objects independently and then bringing them together (in some medium other than thought, which yet stands in need of relatedness to objects). Rödl's excluded third alternative is to promote a logic which determines thoughts only as already related to objects which are given by these thoughts: such a logic is what Kant called "transcendental logic". Kant distinguished this from the sort of logic he infamously claimed to have been settled since Aristotle, which he characterized as a "general logic" that abstracts from all objects of thought and deals with modes of inference independently of the relatedness of thoughts to any objects (which is why for Kant general logic can lead to transcendent metaphysical thoughts by means of fallacious inferences, but transcendental logic does not give any "Sinn oder Bedeutung" to the "thoughts" of transcendent metaphysics).

To present a transcendental logic is to present a logic which includes within it an account of the objects which can be given to thought; non-transcendental logic can omit this only because it treats of thoughts without inquiring into their relatedness to objects. If a logic is not to leave the question of the relatedness of thougts to their objects outside of itself (as a topic for something other than logic), i.e. if a logic is to take care of itself, to be able to present the form of thought as such, then the objects which are given in thoughts must be treated of by logic itself: thus transcendental logic must be metaphysics. This is just what we find in Kant: the Transcendental Logic is just where Kant establishes the principles of his "metaphysics which is to come forth as a science", that all appearances are substances undergoing lawful changes in mutual interaction etc. As general logic determines the forms of thoughts which are capable of figuring into inference, so transcendental logic determines the forms of thoughts of objects: and so it determines the ways in which objects may be given to us, the way in which objects which can be given to us may (or must) be. And unless there is a distinction made between objects which can be given to thought and objects which can be given to our thought, transcendental logic will not have as a consequence transcendental idealism: if the metaphysics of transcendental logic determines how objects must be to be given to thought, then to speak of objects which are not (or might not be) thus is to speak of something contradictory, or to put forward a thought which has no relation to any object: thus it cannot have as its object any "thing in itself" which is unknowable by thought. Kant's transcendental idealism arises because of his accounting our form of sensibility as not the only logically possible one: hence his transcendental logic does not present the form of objects which can be given to thought, but only the form of objects which can be given to spatiotemporally-formed thinkers; the "thing in itself" thus remains as something which (as far as logic allows) might be given to thought, but cannot be given to our thought, and so is for us unknowable and undetermined by Kant's metaphysics. If Kant's forms of sensibility can be shown to be the only logically possible ones, to be demanded by transcendental logic and not merely an addition from a "transcendental aesthetic", or if Kant can be shown to have erred in his claiming that the (logically contingent) forms of space and time are the forms of our sensibility, then Kant's transcendental idealism can be excised from his system. This is part of Rödl's project, in line with earlier German Idealists such as Ficthe and Hegel: to carry out transcendental logic without an independent transcendental aesthetic, so as to avoid transcendental idealism and the "thing in itself". They do not reject the division between transcendental logic and transcendental aesthetic because of ignorance of the importance of a transcendental aesthetic, of an account of the form of objects which can be given to thought, but because they seek to have transcendental logic alone provide for it, as it should be able to if transcendental logic is a logic which can take care of itself.

Problems with scientia intuitiva and the Absolute Idea

I have mentioned a few times that I should write a post discussing Förster's examples from "The Methodology of the Intuitive Understanding", chapter 11 of "The Twenty-Five Years of Philosophy".

First, it's probably best to look at what Spinoza tells us about scientia intuitiva, what he calls in his Ethics "the third kind of knowledge". There's surprisingly little telling us what this actually is in the Ethics; the only clear treatment of all three "kinds of knowledge" comes at EIIP40S2:

From all that has been said above it is clear, that we, in many cases, perceive and form our general notions:--(1.) From particular things represented to our intellect fragmentarily, confusedly, and without order through our senses (II. xxix. Coroll.); I have settled to call such perceptions by the name of knowledge from the mere suggestions of experience. (2.) From symbols, e.g., from the fact of having read or heard certain words we remember things and form certain ideas concerning them, similar to those through which we imagine things (II. xviii. note). I shall call both these ways of regarding things knowledge of the first kind, opinion, or imagination. (3.) From the fact that we have notions common to all men, and adequate ideas of the properties of things (II. xxxviii. Coroll., xxxix. and Coroll. and xl.); this I call reason and knowledge of the second kind. Besides these two kinds of knowledge, there is, as I will hereafter show, a third kind of knowledge, which we will call intuition [scientia intuitiva]. This kind of knowledge proceeds from an adequate idea of the absolute essence of certain attributes of God to the adequate knowledge of the essence of things. I will illustrate all three kinds of knowledge by a single example. Three numbers are given for finding a fourth, which shall be to the third as the second is to the first. Tradesmen without hesitation multiply the second by the third, and divide the product by the first; either because they have not forgotten the rule which they received from a master without any proof, or because they have often made trial of it with simple numbers, or by virtue of the proof of the nineteenth proposition of the seventh book of Euclid, namely, in virtue of the general property of proportionals.

But with very simple numbers there is no need of this. For instance, one, two, three, being given, everyone can see that the fourth proportional is six; and this is much clearer, because we infer the fourth number from an intuitive grasping of the ratio, which the first bears to the second.

Now, it is famously unclear how to understand this example, but as Spinoza exegesis is not Förster's concern, I can ignore those questions. One thing worth noting is that Spinoza also characterizes scientia intuitiva as proceeding from knowledge of the essence of a thing to knowledge of its properties; I am too lazy to look up that quote, but I believe it's in Treatise on the Emendation of the Intellect. But I am mainly interested here in Spinoza's example itself: We are given three numbers in a series, 1, 2, 3, and told to find the fourth. The answer Spinoza is looking for is '6', which is (3*2)/1, as 6/3=2/1.

I remember when I first read this passage, I didn't pay any attention to the math-talk and was surprised when the number after 1, 2, 3 was not '4'. This nicely illustrates an important point: being given a series of numbers does not always uniquely determine "what number comes next" in the series.

More strongly, the following is true: No finite series of numbers uniquely determines a function. Trivially, a finite series of numbers that fit a function will also fit an infinite number of piecewise functions which are defined for the given elements in the same way as that function, but in some other way for elements not given in the series. (I'm not sure if the same holds for infinite series, since my math skills are inadequate, but I only need the weaker claim for discussing Förster's examples).

A point related to this is one Leibniz spends some time discussing (somewhere): given a series of points, there is no line which uniquely fits those points. (I believe this is equivalent to proving the stronger claim I was hesitant about in the previous paragraph, since an infinite series of elements can be treated as a list of ordered pairs, which will equate to points on a graph, and if no line is determined by them then neither can they determine a function, since if they determined a function you could draw the line the function displayed and it would uniquely fit the points. Yes, I have now convinced myself of this. But again, I don't need that stronger claim.)

Now, here is Goethe, in "The Experiment as Mediator Between Object and Subject", quoted by Förster on page 256:

In the first two installments of my optical contributions I sought to conduct such a series of experiments which border on and immediately touch upon each other, and which indeed, once one has become thoroughly familiar with them and contemplates them as a whole, constitute but one single experience seen from the most various vantage points. -- An experience of this kind, consisting as it does in a series of experiments, is manifestly of a higher kind. It represents the formula in which countless individual problems of arithmetic are expressed. To work towards such experiences is, I believe, the highest duty of the natural scientist.

Förster then reminds the reader of the historical context: Goethe had believed that he could "see" the Idea of color by doing all possible experiments with the way light shines through a prism onto boundaries between light and dark surfaces, and then his "seeing" of this Idea would allow him to articulate a correct theory of color. Lichtenberg had pointed out that the theory of color Goethe put forward on this basis didn't explain why I see green dots if I stare at red dots and then turn quickly to look at a white surface. The moral Förster draws from this is general: Goethe believed that if he looked at enough individuals of a certain kind, he could grasp the Idea which manifested itself in these various individuals (the Idea of color which made all colors colors, the Urpflanze which made all of the various plants plants). But the (merely empirical) fact that his early theory of color fails to explain the empirical phenomena of "couleurs accidentelles" revealed a logical problem with his methodology: given what an Idea is supposed to be, one cannot grasp an Idea by simply seeing individuals which manifest it; some further logical element is needed.

Here it is probably helpful to remember the Kantian context for this problem: Goethe's strange efforts with colors and trying to see the "Idea of color" are akin to trying to see a cow as a cow. Kant believed that we cannot know whether there are genuine purposes in nature (such as organisms), and that the idea of such things was of only regulative use. Here is a passage from section 77 of the Critique of Judgement, AK 5:407:

Our understanding, namely, has the property that in its cognition, e.g., of the cause of a product, it must go from the analytical universal (of concepts) to the particular (of the given empirical intuition), in which it determines nothing with regard to the manifoldness of the latter, but must expect this determination for the power of judgement from the subsumption of the empirical intuition (when the object is a product of nature) under the concept. Now, however, we can also conceive of an understanding which, since it is not discursive like ours but is intuitive, goes from the synthetically universal (of the intuition of a whole as such) to the particular, i.e., from the whole to the parts, in which, therefore, and in whose representation of the whole, there is no contingency in the combination of the parts, in order to make possible a determinate form of the whole, which is needed by our understanding, which must progress from the parts, as universally conceived grounds, to the different possible forms, as consequences, that can be subsumed under it. In accordance with the construction of our understanding, by contrast, a real whole of nature is to be regarded only as the effect of the concurrent moving forces of the parts. Thus if we would not represent the possibility of the whole as depending upon the parts, as is appropriate for our discursive understanding, but would rather, after the model of the intuitive (archetypal) understanding, represent the possibility of the parts (as far as both their constitution and their combination is concerned) as depending upon the whole, then, given the very same special characteristic of our understanding, this cannot come about by the whole being the ground of the possibility of the connection of the parts (which would be a contradiction in the discursive kind of cognition), but only by the representation of a whole containing the ground of the possibility of its form and of the connection of parts that belong to that. But now since the whole would in that case be an effect (product) the representation of which would be regarded as the cause of its possibility, but the product of a cause whose determining ground is merely the representation of its effect is called an end, it follows that it is merely a consequence of the particular constitution of our understanding that we represent products of nature as possible only in accordance with another kind of causality than that of natural laws of matter, namely only in accordance with that of ends and final causes, and that this principle does not pertain to the possibility of things themselves (even considered as phenomena) in accordance with this sort of generation, but pertains only to the judging of them that is possible for our understanding.

This passage is where Goethe (and Förster) get the idea of an "intuitive intellect", of an intellect which can see "a whole as a whole" rather than having to see a whole only by seeing its parts (and then concluding that these are parts of a whole, in a separate act of the mind). Kant has earlier argued (to the satisfaction of all of the German idealists, and Goethe) that knowing a particular object in nature as an organism requires knowing it as a whole in which the parts are reciprocally the cause and effect of the whole: seeing a cow as a cow requires seeing its parts as being there because they are organs of a cow, and of seeing the cow as there because of the functioning of its organs. Now, Kant thinks that the peculiar nature of our "discursive" understanding prevents us from having this sort of knowledge. As he puts it in this passage, a discursive understanding has only "analytical universals" as concepts, it has concepts which do not determine any of the content which is given in intuition. In seeing a metal sphere lying on an incline, the concepts which I bring the intuition of that sphere under ("metal", "sphere", "substance", "solid") do not determine what will be given to me in intuition. If what is next given to me is this sphere rolling up the incline instead of down it, then this shows that I was wrong in bringing it under some of the concepts I brought it under (it must not be made of metal, or at least must not be solidly metal). However the sphere behaves, I require further intuition to know it: thus there is a contingency between my representation of the sphere as solid metal and its being given to me in future intuitions as behaving like I expect a solid metal sphere to behave. In contrast to this, suppose I see a cow as a cow: then in bringing it under the concept of "cow" I determine that it must have four legs, chew cud, give birth to calves after mating with bulls, etc. I do not require future intuitions to know that it does this: if it does not do these things, then it has failed as a cow, and I did not fail in bringing it under the concept "cow". Future intuitions of the cow living as a cow lives can only confirm what I already knew about it when I saw it as a cow, and are not required for me to know this. Thus there is not a contingency between my representing the cow as a cow and its being given to me in future intuitions as behaving in the way I expect a cow to behave. I also know that it must have a stomach with four components, a liver, kidneys, lungs, etc., for these are among the organs proper to a cow: if a particular cow lacks any of them, then it is deficient as a cow. And so I do not require future intuitions to know that the cow has them: I require new information to tell me ways in which an animal is unhealthy, not to tell me how it is healthy.

Because of Kant's overextension of a particular picture of how concept and intuition are united in cognition, he denies that we can have empirical knowledge of organisms. Goethe makes a modus tollens out of Kant's modus ponens: because we do have knowledge of organisms, we must have intuitive intellects (and not merely discursive ones).

So, Goethe's problem is this: How can it be possible to see "a whole as such", as opposed to only ever seeing a whole by progressing from the parts to the whole?

His initial, flawed, answer, is that we can see "a whole as such" by seeing individuals which are instances of that kind of whole. But I cannot learn what a cow is simply by seeing many cattle; for to know what a cow is, I need to know things about the ways a cow's organs interrelate with one another, and the way that various actions of a cow function in the life-cycle of a cow. But if I only ever look at particular cow organs on their own, and particular cow actions in isolation from one another, then I will never learn from this how these organs and these actions are organically united in the life of the cow.

Returning to Förster, and Goethe:

What is the problem here? Let us consider once again Goethe's characterization of what he calls an experience of a higher kind: It comprises a number of different experiences and "represents the formula in which countless individual problems of arithmetic are expressed." Like a mathematical formula, the experience of a higher kind is meant to provide a means for deriving the individual phenomena from it. Is this the case? If for example I have the formula y=2x+1, I can express it in countless instances: 1, 3, 5, 7, 9, 11... This does not represent any problem. However, our task is still to discover the formula corresponding to the idea! Instead of generating the series on the basis of the formula, we have to derive the formula on the basis of the series. Thus to begin with all I have is (say) the series 1, 1, 2, 3, 5, 8, 13, 21... What is the formula on which the series is based? What would be the next number, after 21?
And here we see: Just as little as the arithmetic series as such provides the formula that generates it, neither does the 'systematic variation of every single experiment' in a complete series reveal the underlying idea.... When assembling the materials that comprise an experience of a higher kind, we must also take care not to leave out a single step if the underlying regularity is to be determined. However, the mere fact of having discovered all the parts (properties) is not in itself equivalent to having derived them from a single origin (idea).
...Something crucial is still missing, but what is it? Goethe's own path, the one that in the end actually lead him to the solution of his problem, left hardly any traces in his writings. Even so, the mathematical example from above gives us a clue what to look for. What must I do in order to find the appropriate formula for the series 1,1,2,3,5,8,13,21? Apparently I have to investigate the transitions between the numbers in order to see how one arises from the other and whether the intervals between them are based on some regularity. However I end up achieving this, there is no doubt that the path from the series to the formula lies in studying the transitions.[Footnote: An intellectual re-presentation of the transitions between 1,1,2,3,5,8,13,21, is necessary in order to realize that, from the third element in the series onward, every number is the sum of the two preceding numbers; hence the next number must be 34, and we are dealing here with the formula for the Fibonacci series.] (ps.256-7)

So to put the case in parallel with Kant (and my example of the cow):

1. I am given a series of numbers/intuitions of parts of a cow.
2. I want to know the formula which produces the series/to intuit the cow as a whole.
3. I cannot proceed from the mere series to the formula/discursive intellection cannot provide me with an intuition of the cow as a whole.
-- but here there is a further parallel, which Förster gives too little time to --
4. I cannot know if there is a formula for the series/we cannot know that there exist organisms in nature by discursive intellection.

Now, consider the following sequence of numbers: 3, 12, 10, 7, 10, 19.... To know the formula behind this series, Förster says, I must "intellectually re-present" "the transitions" between them. Well, here is how that series was generated: I rolled a d20 several times, and recorded my rolls. The transitions between the items were my picking up the die and throwing it again. So even if there is a simple function that fits my rolls (as there would be if I had rolled 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6), this would tell you nothing about that series: the next element in the series will always be a random number between 1 and 20. There is a fact of the matter about what the next number in the series was (it was a 4), but no formula would have been able to tell you it. So if "the formula" being looked for is something that will both tell you what numbers are in the series and what future numbers will be added to the series, there simply is no such formula to be found: the relation between the present list of elements and any future elements in the series is contingent. This is how Kant thinks of our knowledge of (what we heuristically imagine to be) organisms: the "whole" imagined serves merely a regulative function in judgement, and doesn't allow us to know the object intuited. And there are areas where Kant's picture of our understanding is correct, just as there are serieses of numbers which are not determinations of a formula: sometimes there is no "whole" to be grasped, but a mere conglomeration of contingently related items. So there is a real possibility that the sort of "higher experience" Goethe wanted in a particular case will just not be available, because the items he is looking at are not manifestations of a (single) Idea. Even if Förster/Goethe are granted a great deal about "Ideas" and our cognitive capacities for apprehending them, it remains open that there simply will not be an Idea where one is looked for. It might be that the concept being sought after in the phenomena is simply discursive, and not an Idea at all.

But Förster/Goethe want to avoid Kant's skeptical result, and at least in some cases it is clearly right to resist it. So let us look again at the mathematical example and the cow in parallel, without Kant's skeptical item 4:
4a. If there is a formula for the series, it determines how to proceed from one element in the series to the next/If the cow is an organic whole, then its being an organism determines how the parts of the cow relate to one another.
5. If I can proceed from one element in the series to the next while knowing that this is what I am doing (and not merely by a prior knowledge of which numbers are in the series), then I have a practical knowledge of the formula (This is something like Spinoza's second kind of knowledge.)/If I can see the particular parts of the cow as working in such a way that they cannot work without one another, or the various actions of the cow as actions that could not be done by something which did not do all of those sorts of actions, then I have a practical recognition that the object I am apprehending is an organism.
6. If I can see the elements in the series as following from one another with necessity simply by following the series along, this is what Spinoza called scientia intuiva/If I can see the individual parts or actions of the cow in such a way that I could not see them without seeing them as done by a cow (here considered as an organism, a natural end), then I have an intuitive intellect and intuit by means of what Kant called a "synthetic universal": what I see is already determined by the concept, and does not depend on future intuitions to give me knowledge of its future states.

Förster identifies three elements in "the methodology of the intuitive understanding" he finds in Goethe: there is a series of elements, there are transitions between those elements, and there is the Idea which makes itself manifest in the elements. He argues that if we are given any two of these, we can infer the third: "if a whole consists of these three elements and two of them are given, then I can infer the third from them." (p.259)

He gives two examples to try to show we can go from Idea and elements to transitions and from Idea and transitions to elements; the movement from elements and transitions to Idea is then left as what Goethe and Hegel accomplished.

I think that neither of his examples shows what he wants to. But as this post is getting long (and feels already impossibly dense), I think I will again put off looking at those two; I have at least done all the ground-clearing for looking at them now. The bigger problem is one I believe I mentioned in my first post on Förster's book, but which I can now put with more clarity: Förster does not take seriously enough his own italicized "if".

Again, here is Förster: "if a whole consists of these three elements and two of them are given, then I can infer the third from them" (p.259) -- a few pages later, this is taken as haven been proved: "In summary, then, we can say that if an idea lies at the basis of a set of phenomena and is operative in all its parts, then that fact can only be recognized by the method described here. Whether or not an idea in this sense lies at the foundation of a set of phenomena can also only be determined in this way." (p.264) -- So, by Förster's own lights, whether or not an Idea lies at the basis of phenomena is a question that is not immediately answerable, but rather is answered only by "the methodology of intuitive understanding": knowing that there is an Idea underlying phenomena does not come before actually grasping that Idea, and seeing how it guides the transitions between the individuals in which it manifests itself.

Now, look at Förster's treatment of "the classical and continually recurring objection" to the claim "that Hegel's description of the path of philosophical consciousness to the standpoint of science is in principle correct" (p.372) as it has "sublated the subject-object dichotomy that previously constituted it, thereby giving birth to a new kind of thought distinct from the discursive thought which had been appropriate within the dichotomy that previously laid claim to (almost) exclusive validity" (p.371-2). (Another way he puts this central claim is that Hegel had succeeded at demonstrating "the actuality of the (absolute) idea" (p.367).) The objection to this claim is that "the steps in Hegel's argumentation are lacking in necessity; that the historical shapes that he discerns do not exhaust the alternatives; that, on the contrary, many new alternatives have emerged since Hegel's time in science, art, and so on." (p.376)

Förster's reply is as follows, in four parts:

(1) As we saw at the beginning of Chapter 13, Hegel is not concerned in the Phenomenology with 'historical shapes' -- these are ultimately no more than examples and could be replaced by equally serviceable 'alternatives'. Rather, Hegel is interested in the 'method of the passing over of one form into another and the emergence of the one form out of the other'. But then the question is not whether there are alternatives to Hegel's examples, to the historical shapes chosen by him, but whether there are alternatives to the transitions between them.

Förster is clearly right about this, and I'm always astonished when people can't recognize this. The idea that in the first few chapters of the Phenomenology Hegel is concerned with the transition from Russellian "knowledge by acquaintance" to Platonic forms to Newtonianism to the instiution of slavery to Stoicism/Skepticism/Roman Catholicism is simply wacky: how could that grab-bag assortment of historical phenomena, in their weird non-temporal order, be something that has a logical progression? [It is worth noting here that Förster is chiefly concerned with roughly the first half of the Phenomenology, up through the section on "Spirit"; he convincingly argues that this is what Hegel had originally planned to have as the "introduction" to the Science of Logic, and these sections do in fact seem to function as the "Positions of Thought" chapters in the opening of the Encyclopedia Logic do.]

(2) And here again, the question is not whether we today, with the conceptual means placed at our disposal by the current level of development, might be able to imagine different transitions, but whether a different transition would be possible for the observed consciousness on its level. What we can imagine is therefore irrelevant to answering this question.
(3) If this is conceded, then the objection ought rather to be formulated this way: it is not convincing that a specific transition is supposed to be necessary for consciousness at its given level. And such an objection may, in any given case, in fact be justified. Then the question becomes: Is the transition itself not necessary, or has its necessity simply not been convincingly presented? As long as we find that some of the other transitions are necessary, we can always be sure that the problem is one of presentation. That is the crucial point! **If** a whole makes its parts possible and gives them their shape, then it must be active in all the parts and in all their transitions, not only in some. If that activity (necessity) has been recognized in some of the transitions but not in others, all this implies is that the latter have not yet been adequately grasped and presented.
(4) Hegel's project could therefore only be said to have 'failed' if no necessity whatsoever was to be found in the 'science of the experience of consciousness' [the Phenomenology's original title, which corresponds to the parts through "Spirit"], and if instead the transitions between shapes were contingent and thus might have happened differently. But that assumption is unwarranted, as I hope to have shown in Chapter 13 despite the undeniable imperfections in my presentation.

Förster's (2) is unobjectionable, and I accept that he has in fact shown in his chapter 13 that at least some of the transitions between the "shapes of spirit" happen with necessity. But his (3) is problematic: he grants that many of Hegel's transitions, as written, are unconvincing. But he tries to argue that this can only be a problem of presentation, for all of these transitions must in fact be there to be described. (In this he follows Fichte's views of the "deductions" in the published version of the Wissenschaftslehre, which Förster argues Hegel took as a guide for his project in the Phenomenology; Fichte thought his published "deductions" were largely awful, but that this was always a flaw merely in the presentation and not in the Wissenschaftslehre itself.)

The problem is the "if" which I added emphasis on, and which Förster had (previously in the book) always italicized: it is a real question whether an Idea lies behind a group of phenomena. Some wholes are mere aggregates, and not organically structured: in that case the "if" fails, and the whole does not make the parts possible or give them shape, and is not active in them or their transitions. (Indeed, whether there are "transitions" between them seems doubtful; it appears there are only "transitions" between our apprehensions of them, as there is nothing uniting them beyond our having united them.) And given what I thought I understood about "the metholodogy of the intuitive intellect", we cannot know whether an Idea lies behind phenomena without knowing that all of this is true: so Förster here argues in a circle, asserting that there is an (absolute) Idea because of the transitions and that there are transitions because there is an (absolute) Idea.

This is related to a puzzling paragraph in the concluding chapter of the book. Förster notes that Goethe's Ideas are multiple and various, as the Idea of color and the Urpflanze are very different sorts of Ideas. This is in distinction from Hegel, who speaks of the Idea, the Absolute Idea, and not of various "Ideas" in the plural. But Förster thinks this reflects only a difference of attention, and that the two approaches complement one another:

Nor, of course, does a multiplicity of ideas contradict the fact of a single, unified reality. Just as a concept (the manifestation of the idea in the subject) is impossible in isolation from the broader conceptual network, and just as an isolated Urphaenomen is an impossibility, neither is it conceivable that there could be ideas existing apart from any connection with other ideas. They too must be moments of an internally differentiated whole; they must stand to each other in relations of greater or lesser affinity, mutually conditioning, facilitating, impeding, or excluding one another, and hence they must be hierarchically ordered and subordinated to a highest (absolute) idea constituting the internal nexus of the whole. Goethe remarks in this connection...(p.370)

and then he gives two Goethe quotations which are not arguments in support of these claims. I don't see what support he can give for them. I am well acquainted with arguments to the effect that concepts only come in groups, and an Urphaenomen that doesn't make itself manifest in individuals is clearly not doing the work of an Urphaenomen. But why do Ideas require other Ideas? And why do they have to stand in an orderly hierarchy with regards to one another? (That's not true of concepts, since not all concepts are "the manifestation of the idea in the subject": some are merely discursive representations. It was with good reason that Kant only urged as a task that our concepts should be organized in a single Porphyrian tree, and did not claim that they already are so organized.)

As far as I can see, the actuality of the absolute idea is left as an assumption in Förster's book. Which is rather problematic, since that's what the whole thing is trying to demonstrate.

Some remarks of Fichte's about general logic, with an aside about Schopenhauer and math

From a letter to Reinhard, January 15 1794:
"But isn't it true that philosophy, unlike geometry and mathematics, is quite unable to construct its concepts in intuition? Yes, this is quite true; it would be unfortunate if philosophy were able to do this, for then we would have no philosophy, but only mathematics. But philosophy can and should employ thinking in order to deduce its concepts from one single first principle which has to be granted by everyone. The form of deduction is the same as in mathematics, that is, it is the form prescribed by general logic." (p.793 in Early Philosophical Writings, tr. Dan Breazeale)

From a letter to Reinhold, March 1 1794:
"I have been avidly awaiting the second part of your Contributions. I particularly look forward to the explanation of how you derive the categories. (To derive them from the logical forms of judgement presupposes that logic provides the rules for philosophy, and this I cannot accept.)" (p.376, ibid)


Fichte apparently changed his mind about the relationship of general logic to philosophy during these months, while he was first working on the Wissenschaftslehre, after Schulze's "Aenesidemus" gave him such a shock.

The first quotation surprised me: I am used to Fichte affirming the paradoxical aim of establishing logic through the Wissenschaftslehre, or else of it being its own distinct "science" apart from philosophy. I didn't know he had at one point affirmed that what he was trying to do was find a first principle "which has to be granted by everyone" and then get all of the rest of his philosophy out of it analytically. Though I suppose that's not too big of a surprise, since this was how Reinhold viewed his own philosophy, and Fichte at this point was still self-consciously a Reinholdian. (It's insane to think you can get anything interesting out of a principle like "I=I" analytically, but I think the error is more understandable if you imagine that Fichte's first principle was something longer, and in prose, like Reinhold's "Principle of Consciousness" was.)

The first quotation is also interesting for Fichte's remark that deduction in mathematics proceeds according to "the form prescribed by general logic". This might seem tautological (what other sort of deduction could a proof have?), but it's not obviously a Kantian way to think about mathematical proof. Schopenhauer, for instance, says things like this:

"In mathematics, according to Euclid's treatment, the axioms are the only indemonstrable first principles, and  all demonstrations are in gradation strictly subordinate to them. This method of treatment, however, is not essential to mathematics, and in fact every proposition again begins a new spatial construction. In itself, this is independent of the previous constructions, and can actually be known from itself, quite independently of them, in the pure intuition of space, in which even the most complicated construction is just as directly evident as the axiom is." (WWR I, p.63)

"Now if with our conviction that intuition is the first source of all evidence, that immediate or mediate reference to this alone is absolute truth, and further that the shortest way to this is always the surest, as every mediation through concepts exposes us to many deceptions; if, I say, we now turn with this conviction to mathematics, as it was laid down in the form of a science by Euclid, and has on the whole remained down to  the present day, we cannot help finding the path followed by it strange and even perverted. We demand the reduction of every logical proof to one of perception. Mathematics, on the contrary, is at great pains deliberately to reject the evidence of perception peculiar to it and everywhere at hand, in order to substitute for it logical evidence." (WWR I, p.69)

and my favorite one

"Therefore, I knew of nothing to take away from the theories of the Transcendental Aesthetic, but only of something to add to them. Kant did not pursue his thought to the very end, especially in not rejecting the whole of the Euclidean method of demonstration, even after he had said on p.87(V, 120) that all geometrical knowledge has direct evidence from perception. It is most remarkable that even one of his opponents, in fact the cleverest of them, G. E. Schulze (Kritik der theoretischen Philosophie, ii, 241), draws the conclusion that an entirely different treatment of geometry from what is actually in use would result from Kant's teaching. He thus imagines that he is bringing an apagogical argument against Kant, but as a matter of fact, without knowing it, he is beginning a war against the Euclidean method." (WWR I, p.438, my emphasis)

Now, Kant's actual views on geometry and arithmetic are obscure, even by Kant's standards; there is not much in the way of consensus in the secondary literature on any point related to it. But I think Schopenhauer actually latched onto an interesting way to read Kant here: if Kant is really serious about all our synthetic knowledge standing under the principle of the conditions of a synthetic unity of intuition in a possible experience, and if mathematics is synthetic, then it looks like mathematics should depend on a relation to possible experience in a way that it hasn't traditionally. In Euclid, it looks like what we are given is some self-evident axioms, and then logic is supposed to carry us from those to all of the proofs (if this is not true of Euclid himself, then consider how the more geometrico ends up appearing in the hands of a Descartes or Spinoza). Euclid-style mathematics looks an awful lot like rationalist metaphysics, Schopenhauer thinks. Kant himself had drawn the moral that philosophy can't try to imitate mathematics; Schopenhauer draws a further moral that mathematics can't try to imitate mathematics: the procedure the rationalists tried to follow isn't just illegitimately extended by the rationalists, it's rotten in and for itself. Brouwer's intuitionistic mathematics self-consciously follows Schopenhauer on this.

Fichte's view is much less revisionary, in this respect: he seems to think that math relies on intuition somewhere along the line, but that mathematical proofs are just logical ones; the rules for what follows from what in geometry are the same sort of rules that govern syllogistic. FWIW, I think this was Kant's own position; but it is hard to fit to the text of the Critique: there Kant says odd things about mathematics and geometry, and their supposed relation to pure intuitions of time and space. Schopenhauer is able to make those odd things look intelligible, at least, even if the position he endorses looks crazy. (Or maybe it's not! I don't want to pick any fights with intuitionists if I don't have to.)

Now, it's possible that Fichte's views on mathematics changed after 1793; I have read literally nothing on Fichte's philosophy of mathematics. But I think he probably had to change them, given that he certainly changed his views on general logic. In the letter to Reinhold above, he's already refusing to put logic before philosophy; later on, he gets even harsher. So far in my Fichte studies, I've ignored anything that happened after 1800, just because the Jena-period work is what influenced Hegel & co. But I recently read the short article "Nothing More or Less than Logic: General Logic, Transcendental Logic, and Kant's Repudiation of Fichte's Wissenschaftslehre" by Wayne Martin, and it has this startling bit:

In his earlier discussions of the relationship of logic and philosophy, Fichte had been concerned only to mark the difference between the two disciplines, content to leave the doctrines of general logic well enough alone. But he now calls for a thorough-going critique of logic itself. He explicitly marks this as a shortcoming of Kant’s philosophy, complaining that Kant “was not so disinclined as he ought to have been [toward general logic]”; that he “had not recognized that his own philosophy requires that general logic be destroyed to its very foundation” – a destruction Fichte now vows to undertake “in Kant’s name” (SW IX, 111–112). As the lecture course unfolds we find that the scorn previously reserved for the so-called “dogmatists” is now directed against “die Logiker” instead. Their account of concept-formation is said to be “durchaus falsch” (SW IX, 317); their accounts of judgment and of the syllogism are said to be in need of “total reform” (SW IX, 367); and the “spirit” of their enquiry is said to be “the same as that of all untrue philosophy – that is, of all philosophy that is not idealistic (SW IX, 407)" (p.35-36)

Martin's article ends shortly after this; if anyone can point me towards discussions of Fichte's later views on general logic, I'd appreciate it.

But there are a few things Martin does note about Fichte's critique here. One is that Kant's discussion of concept-formation in the Jasche logic looks like it's literally the same as Locke's account of how we get general ideas: it's an unreconstructed abstractionism. But if Kant endorses Locke here, it can only be out of mental inertia; Kant simply can't have taken on such a central part of empiricist epistemology, given how much of it he (rightly) rejected entirely.

There are more than a few reasons Kant couldn't have consistently been a Lockean abstractionist about concepts, but Fichte latches onto an interesting one: "If the logicians had indeed realized all this they would have realized that the concept, in this case, of a horse, only occurs in the grasping of something as a horse – that is, in the judgment that something is a horse. (SW IX, 331)" (quoted on p.37 of Martin's article).

As Kant had already said, the understanding can make no use of concepts except to judge by means of them; Fichte puts this even more forcefully, and has concepts simply being nothing but capacities to make certain sorts of judgements. So one reason abstractionism is false is because it tries to explain how we first derive concepts from our experience, and then combine them in judgements -- but there can be no gap here, for deriving concepts is nothing but coming to be able to make certain sorts of judgements: Fichte thus prefigures Geach's main objection to abstractionism in "Mental Acts": Possession of a concept is the capacity to make certain sorts of judgements; it is not primarily a recognitional capacity. But abstractionism tries to explain how we acquire certain recognitional capacities, not the capacity to make certain sorts of judgements. Hence abstractionism does not explain how any of our concepts are acquired.

Fichte is then already seeing what's wrong with much work that is done even today on concepts: read a random article on "Whether animals have concepts?" and you are almost certain to be told that they do, because e.g. a dog can recognize when his name is called, or a dolphin can recognize its image in a mirror. It will often then swiftly be granted that we have more concepts than dolphins and dogs, for e.g. they do not have a concept of a logical copula (or at least this is rarely claimed), and that sort of thing is supposed to explain the difference between the minds of brutes and the minds of rational beings. But it's just Kant's insight that the concepts which are employed in the logical forms of judgements are needed to bring objects under concepts at all: no logical form, no judgement; no judgement, no relation of intuition and concept; no relation of intuition and concept, no representation with objective purport, and hence no concept.

Fichte's complaint about Kant here can then be put thus: Kant knows that abstractionism is deeply wrong, and that we can't form judgements by putting together logical forms which we "already have" with concepts which we "get via abstraction"; the concepts and the logical forms are nothing outside our capacity to judge, which requires both to be the capacity it is. But it looks like his procedure regarding general logic, for instance in the "Metaphysical Deduction" in the first Critique, is just the abstractionist one: he regards the logical forms as being something over against the concepts which are supplied to them ab extra for combination, in Lockean fashion. Kant seems to introduce judgement by first having in view the table of logical forms of judgement; what is needed is to arrive at the logical forms of judgement (the topic of general logic) only by first having judgement itself in view. And if it is transcendental logic that shows us what our capacity for judgement is in its full actuality, then general logic will need to be preceded by transcendental logic, and not be followed by it.

Something I find exciting here: Fichte is here presenting the problem of the Metaphysical Deduction and the question of general logic in Kant as tied to (what is later called) the problem of the unity of the proposition. Fichte's objections to Kant's views on general logic thus look similar to the author of the Tractatus's objections to Russell: Kant/Russell take logical forms as "given" in some peculiar way (Kant is silent about it, but implies the understanding simply has them; Russell appeals to "acquaintance" with these strange "objects"); nothing "given" in this way can do the work of a logical form (Fichte's objection about the primacy of judgement; Wittgenstein's objection about it being impossible to judge a nonsense); hence "general logic" is in need of rethinking from the ground up, and any attempt to establish a substantial truth on a logical basis (such as deriving Kant's categories from general logical forms) or to make a logical proposition itself appear substantial (as Russell and Frege did) must be shown to be confused.

But if that is the point I reach, then I now can say to myself: "Well! Then I will have the problematic status of general logic in Kant cleared up as soon as I clear up what's right and wrong about the role of logic in the Tractatus." I am reminded of something Locke says somewhere (I cannot locate the passage) about being able to move around piles of dirt, but never being able to actually clean the room.

Geach's "Mental Acts" and the dualism of the conceptual and the sensible

I have been reading through "Mental Acts" over the past few days. It's long been on my short list of things to read, but I'd never picked the book up until this week. (Literally: if I had seen for myself how short it was, I would've gotten it read years ago.)

It's mainly good, in the way that everything I've read by Geach has been mainly good.

I am making a post about it largely as a reminder to myself: Chapter 15, "Judgements About Sensible Particulars [Reference to Particulars]" is striking, from a Kantian perspective. But spelling out what I find so striking about it is probably of more general interest.

Geach's puzzle is about how we can judge about particulars, given that judgements are acts of our conceptual capacities, and our conceptual capacities are always universal (as they are capable of repeated use independently of what might be presently sensed).

The judgement he considers is "That flash was before this bang", uttered on different occasions and referring to different flashes and bangs. Of this he says "there is no difference to be found on the side of the judgement itself [on these two occasions]. What we may call the intelligible content of the judgement is the same in all judgements expressible as "that flash was before this bang", regardless of which flash and bang are in question." (ps.63-64) So, given that judgements are always capable of being formed regardless of occasion, how can any judgement have reference to an occasion?

Geach's answer: "How could the utterance "flash before bang" be taken to refer to a particular flash and bang? The answer is obvious[!]; the utterance can be, and probably will be, so understood in a sensory context in which the hearer notices a flash and a bang. Similarly, the utterance "some cats, white" could be taken to refer to particular cats if its hearer was looking attentively in the right direction. The content of the judgement is always intelligible and conceptual -- acquaintance with a particular sensible thing is no part of the judgement itself -- but an act of judgement performed in a particular sensory context may thereby be referred to particular sensible things." (p.64)

The most striking fact about this answer is that Geach tries to answer the question of how judgement can have reference to particulars by referring to what a hearer would take an utterance to refer to, in a given context. He seems to want to answer the question of how thought can be about the world by noting that others take it to be so: but this is patently Munchhausenianism, with empirical content being pulled up by its own bootstraps. Unless the hearer can already judge concerning particulars, then she can't take an utterance to refer to particulars: so it does no good for Geach to appeal to her judgements on the matter.

But this may be unfair: he seems to not notice what he has said, and thinks of all the work in his picture as being done by "the context" of a judgement. How to spell this out, he is unsure of: "It is clear, indeed, that the act of judgement must bear a closer relation than mere simultaneity to the context of sense-perception that gives it its special reference to these particular sensible things; I am not prepared to characterize this special relation it must bear to its context.... But I do not think this throws any doubt on what I have said; although more remains to be said." (p.64)

It is "clear" to Geach that context must be able to do this work, for we do in fact judge about particulars, and he doesn't see anything else that can make inherently-universal judgements latch onto sensible things. He is aware that "mere" simultaneity between an act of judgement and a thing will not suffice, but I hear in this the suggestion that something more than "mere" simultaneity will do the work: Judgement + Thing + Simultaneity + Y = Judgement is about Thing; future philosophy can solve for Y.

I begin here a long aside:

I find this sort of buck-passing in philosophy disagreeable, setting aside the particular problem Geach lays out for working on: it is too easy for everyone to only think through a problem so far, because "others" can always do the rest of the work. I encountered a particular egregious version of this in a seminar recently: several rival positions on a topic in the metaphysics of social groups were compared, and a criticism against one of them (I believe it was Searle's) was rejected on the grounds that if it worked, it would work for all of the positions on offer: "And if it's everybody's problem, then it's also nobody's problem", it was said with a grin. This sort of "metaphysics" struck me as nothing but intellectual masturbation: it was an intentionally restricted way of thinking, and could never bear fruit. The sort of thing people made fun of scholasticism for.

Immediately after the last Geach quote, he continues: "The problem I have just been discussing -- how we judge about sensible particulars -- was much agitated in the Middle Ages; and in my solution of it I believe I am following Aquinas. Aquinas's expression for the relation of the 'intellectual' act of judgement to the context of sense-perception that gives it a particular reference was "conversio ad phantasmata", "turning round towards the sense-appearances". [I don't know why Geach gives a gloss on this; the book is peppered with untranslated Latin phrases.] This metaphorical term is obviously a mere label, with negligible explanatory value;  but it does not pretend to be more than a label. Aquinas has, in my opinion, at least rightly located the problem; the problem is not how we advance from judgements like this is before that to more general judgements, but contrariwise how a judgement inherently general can be tied down to referring to particular things (Ia q. 86 art. 1)" (p.65)

What do we find, if we follow Geach's pointer to Thomas? Here we read that "Our intellect cannot know the singular in material things directly and primarily.... But indirectly, and as it were by a kind of reflection, it can know the singular, because, as we have said above (Question 85, Article 7), even after abstracting the intelligible species, the intellect, in order to understand, needs to turn to the phantasms in which it understands the species, as is said De Anima iii, 7. Therefore it understands the universal directly through the intelligible species, and indirectly the singular represented by the phantasm."

So in the passage Geach cites, Thomas points a few pages earlier in his book. I believe there is an error in the online edition here; Question 85, Article 7 seems irrelevant, but Question 84, Article 7 is about precisely this question: "Whether the intellect can actually understand through the intelligible species of which it is possessed, without turning to the phantasms?" Thomas's sed contra is that "The Philosopher says (De Anima iii, 7) that "the soul understands nothing without a phantasm."" -- so even in following Geach's pointer to Aquinas through Aquina's pointer to Aquinas through an incorrect citation to Aquinas we find: a pointer to Aristotle. (In fairness to Aquinas, he had given the same reference in the first place Geach pointed to.)

But Thomas does add some argumentation in support of Aristotle's view, in his replies in the same article. He states the view he is defending thusly: "In the present state of life in which the soul is united to a passible body, it is impossible for our intellect to understand anything actually, except by turning to the phantasms." -- But now it emerges that Thomism cannot help Geach here, for Thomas is concerned with a narrower problem than the one Geach has. Geach needs an answer for how judgement can be about particulars, but Thomas is concerned only with how our, human, intellect has need of "turning to the phantasms". So in his replies, he appeals to psychological facts about our minds (even appealing that "anyone can experience this of himself") to ground the need for "turning to the phantasms". But Geach's problem is a logical one: how can it be so much as possible that "inherently general" judgements can be "tied down to referring to particular things?" It is no help to note that, in fact, our judgements are so tied down, and human minds cannot but be so tied down: Thomas's investigations enter too late to be of use.


(I won't trouble with looking at De Anima III 7; I remember the passage in question, and looking at it will not help make Geach's puzzle clearer. From what I could see, Aristotle was merely marking a psychological fact with his "no thought without an image" remark: there are always things fluttering about "before the eye of the mind" while we think. But merely noting this does not make thinking less mysterious.)

I end here my long aside.


--So, Geach thinks he can tell that there must be a Y such that Judgement + Thing + Simultaneity + Y = Judgement is about Thing.

Geach faces the same problem in his next chapter, "Judgements Involving Identifications [Judgements of Identification]", which involves judgements that contain proper names. It appeared that perhaps "This flash" could be made to pick out the right flash by demonstrative ostension; proper names do not appear handleable this way, as "Smith" can be Smith's name even if Smith is not within my ostensible reach. Geach closes out his discussion of this problem with a simile: "The problem how you call Smith, the right Smith, to mind is like the problem how you call him ([Philosophical Investigations], Part I, ss691). Although lots of people are called "Smith", the summons "Smith!" may be quite effective to fetch the Smith I want if he is the only man of that name within earshot; and similarly, a judgement that might in principle relate to many men may yet in a particular real-life context be relatable to just one." (p. 73)

Here again we see the pattern of
1. There is a problem for my view of judgement.
2. In "real-life" this problem does not arise.
.'. 3. Context must supply what is lacking in my view.

At no point does Geach consider that our conceptual capacities might inherently refer to particulars, just as he knows they are inherently general. He sees that empiricism asks a bad question when it tries to solve hour we can judge of general matters, given that we can judge of particular ones; but he thinks their error was that the real question is how we can judge of particular matters, given that we can judge of general ones. There is a dualism of the conceptual and the sensible in Geach, just as there is in the empiricists he spends so much time attacking. And if he is right about the medievals, Thomas errs on his side while many Thomists and other scholastics err with the empiricists, with Aristotle claimed by all parties. If nothing else, reading Geach has been good for helping me see that Kant's problems are not new -- or at least they can be seen to have caused trouble, beneath the surface, further back than Kant traces his histories.

On a final note (and this was actually what I originally found interesting enough to post on, before I got caught up in providing context for it), Geach notes that "Quite similar considerations apply to judgements involving tense. The difference between judgements to the effect that a hydrogen bomb will be exploded and that a hydrogen bomb has been exploded is an intelligible or conceptual difference -- a specifically different exercise of concepts is involved. But there is no conceptual difference between judgements formed in different years to the effect that a hydrogen bomb has been exploded, although such a judgement formed in 1940 would have been false and one formed in 1956 would be true." (p.65) When I first read it, I was surprised by how closely connected Geach's claim about tense was to his claims about judgements of particulars: they are treated of in the same section, are said to have "similar considerations" applying to them, and I thought that perhaps the same Kantian solution was what he had overlooked. I had hopes that perhaps here I could finally find a compelling argument for why time is the form of all intuition, what the connection is between reference to particulars and reference to temporal entities. But thinking on it more, I think Geach is just mistaken about how tenses work in language (in thought): it is the same conceptual capacity at work when I judged yesterday that I would be up all night and when I judge today that I was up all night; what has changed is not the judgement, but the context in which it is considered. There is an indexical element to judgements involving tense, just as with judgements involving the concept "now", and changes of index are not changes of indexical. (Ironically, I take this to be something I learned from reading Anscombe on the first person.)

But if this is where Geach went wrong, then the connection between reference to particulars and time boils down to the connection between reference to particulars and the indexicals "here" and "now". And it strikes me as hopeless to try to establish why space and time must be forms of intuition from the fact that (as it happens) we have spatial and temporal indexicals in our language; for if there are other possible forms of intuition, presumably the minds which intuit by them have their own indexicals. So again Kant is proving damnably right: I cannot show why space and time are (our, the) forms of intuition, though it seems clear that they are. So for now I am no better than Geach; I daydream about "others" solving that problem, and think it must have a solution!