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naturalism in whatever domain he finds it is rooted in a therapeutic conception of the philosophers business one which does not
aim to replace reductive naturalism with some other, better theory,
but rather to identify and extirpate the mistaken or confused assumptions which lead us to think that we face difficulties of the kind
which might be resolved by the construction of a theory. Thornton
shows very clearly how often criticisms of McDowell fail to take this
aspect of his self-conception with due seriousness, although he sometimes exhibits that same lack of seriousness himself as when he
persistently talks (for convenience! [p 65]) of McDowells moral
philosophy as moral realism, despite noting McDowells repeated
refusal of this label.
Thornton is also well aware that, if one does take this therapeutic self-conception seriously, one will be uncomfortable with the idea
that McDowell might possess anything worth calling a philosophy
of nature. For that sounds very much like the name for a theory,
in competition with bare naturalism and rampant Platonism, and
hence embodying philosophical theses about mind, meaning and
reality with which others might disagree. But Thornton brings out
quite forcefully the aspects of McDowells writings that suggest that
his methodological manifesto is not always congruent with his practice. For his thinking is not only guided by his unusually wide and
deep knowledge of the history of philosophy (working its way
through and out of writings by Plato, Aristotle, Kant, Hegel and
Gadamer); it is also deeply engaged with the arguments that dominate contemporary analytical philosophy of language, mind and
morality. This is most clearly evident in McDowells long-standing
efforts to make use of a Fregean conception of sense as revised in
the light of (what McDowell finds in) Davidson and Evans.
Thorntons third chapter focusses on this particular aspect of his
work, and he does a creditable job of showing how McDowell might
at least think that his work here is genuinely therapeutic. For it presents his reading of Davidsons project as modest in ways perhaps
undreamed-of by its founder. McDowells Davidsonian theory of
meaning not only eschews any perspective on language from the
outside, and any claim to identify that in which our everyday understanding of words really consists; it also purports to illuminate the
concept of meaning by taking for granted the concept of truth, but
without thereby taking for granted anything philosophically controversial with respect to truth. The idea is rather that this kind of
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the question of whether, how and why rule-following is an inherently communal phenomenon; and it decisively restricts the audience for whom this book will be genuinely useful. Fellow-academics
and graduate students will certainly be in a position to learn something; but even advanced undergraduates may find that just too much
prior acquaintance with the field is being assumed.
In this particular respect, I believe that de Gaynesfords competing introduction to McDowell is superior. Without lacking any of
Thorntons detailed knowledge of these contemporary debates, he
succeeds in finding a more intuitively natural point of access for his
readers into the questions that preoccupy McDowell; he sketches in
the relevant terrain in terms of more general theoretical tendencies
rather than the detailed views of particular theorists; and, at least in
my judgement, he writes with more elegance and wit. On the other
hand, Thorntons account covers the broad range of McDowells
writings with a more even distribution of attention between its
various aspects than does de Gaynesfords; for example, Thornton
devotes a full and elaborate chapter to McDowells work on ethics,
and places it early on in his discussion so as to bring out its indebtedness to certain broader Wittgensteinian themes, whereas de Gaynesford rather rushes his treatment of that material, squeezing it into
a brief chapter at the end of his account. Overall, however, both are
valuable works, and will contribute to advanced debates about
McDowells work, as well as helping students who are as yet unfamiliar with his challenging, and sometimes opaquely-formulated, but
deeply stimulating and humane essays.
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and has supported them with passages from an impressive knowledge of Wittgensteins texts.The support passages, however, are often
taken out of context and given the oddest interpretations to make
them fit Cooks reading. The Cook theory of reading Wittgenstein
looks to us like an unfalsifiable hypothesis. When a fact of what
Wittgenstein said or meant does not fit with Cooks thesis, he reads
it in a way that shows how it does fit. (For a thorough examination
of Cooks ideas in Wittgenstein: Language and Empiricism, see Ronald
Hustwit Jr.s doctoral dissertation, Meaning As Use: Why Wittgenstein
Is Not An Empiricist.)
Having reiterated the claim that Wittgenstein is an empiricist in
the first section, Cook sets out in the second section of his book to
investigate certain aspects of Wittgensteins practice aspects that
Wittgensteins philosophy has raised among various readers. In each
of these cases, Cook considers what other thinkers have said about
Wittgenstein. Cook either cites them approvingly, if they agree with
his empiricist reading or disapprovingly, if they do not. About neither
group, however, does he believe that they have grasped Wittgensteins
phenomenalism. These issues of practice are: unconscious thought,
conceptual relativism, language-games, and objectivity in science. If
one reads Wittgenstein as an empiricist, phenomenalist, etc., Cook
argues, each of these difficult and misunderstood issues in Wittgenstein will become clear.
The following is a brief sketch of Cooks discussions of these
issues, corresponding to the chapters in which he presents them, with
occasional editorial comments:
Unconscious thought. Cook takes up Wittgensteins interest in
William James and Freud on unconscious thought. He pays particular attention to Wittgensteins analysis of the word was on the tip
of my tongue, in which James too had an interest. Wittgensteins
analysis of this expression, according to Cook, can be reduced to
feelings (phenomena) and behaviour. The same is true of Wittgensteins analysis of Freuds unconscious thought. Cook, however,
ignores the context in which Wittgensteins analysis of unconscious
thought takes place. Wittgenstein, in fact, takes both up as objections
to his work against meaning as hidden and unspoken thoughts. In
this context, his noticing, for example, that we feel as if we know
the word we cant think of is done to show that an analysis can be
made that does not require some hidden stream of words that
parallel our spoken sentences.
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Conceptual Relativism. Cook claims that Wittgenstein is a conceptual relativist that members of one conceptual community cannot
grasp what it is like to be a member of another conceptual community. Further, he says that this relativism is implied by Wittgensteins phenomenalism. Such an account of Wittgenstein is patently
false and Cooks argument for this view is impossible to follow. On
the one hand, he credits Wittgenstein with saying that trees and tables
are not encountered prior to the formation of our concepts.While
not expressed clearly, this is an acceptable account of Wittgenstein.
But then Cook attributes the following confused idea to Wittgenstein: our senses are flooded with sense-data, and we, by means of
the concepts we invent, organize certain collections of sense-data to
suit our needs and interests. Wittgenstein would not say such a
thing. But if he had, is this evidence for his empiricism? How does
it follow from his starting with sense-data that he is a conceptual
relativist? The claims of the chapter are confused and unsupported.
Language games. Cook interprets Wittgensteins language-games
as presupposing his empiricism and behaviourism. His evidence for
this is that Wittgenstein often compares human linguistic behaviour
to the behaviour of animals and, further, the remark in PI 5 where
Wittgenstein says, the teaching of language is not explanation, but
training. So, allegedly, Wittgenstein thinks that humans learn to play
language-games by being trained like animals. Further, Wittgenstein
often invents language-games that are not played, but might be, in
order to shed light on some problem. Cook refers to them as
bizarre. [Showing different ways of reasoning in Remarks on the
Foundations of Mathematics, Wittgenstein invents a language-game in
which people treat the same amount of wood differently because
one is stacked and the other is not.] These language-games, too, are
reducible to behaviourism. About this language-game Wittgenstein
comments: they go through the motions of buying and selling firewood, albeit according to a logic different from our own. From this
Cook concludes that Wittgensteins view of language is that speaking involves two things: bodies making noises and the behaviour
accompanying those noises. Hence, language-games are based on
behaviourism. It remains a mystery to us how someone who has read
as much Wittgenstein as Cook could make such a claim.
Objectivity in science. In the most interesting chapter in the book,
Cook examines and objects to Wittgensteins relativistic picture of
science. He focuses on remarks of Wittgenstein on causality.Wittgen 2006 The Authors
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have seen that they talk of a transcendent God and His appearance
in time miracles.
In his remarks on the primitive practices of people, Wittgenstein
held an emotivist view rather than an instrumentalist view. Cook
means that Wittgenstein did not understand those primitive practices
as primitive science, but rather as making those who performed those
practices feel good. He ascribes these views to Peter Winch as well.
Cook counters this emotivist view by citing ethnologists who
describe primitive peoples as instrumentalists that primitives
thought they were actually affecting changes in the natural world.
Though he accuses Wittgenstein and Winch of deciding this issue a
priori, we fail to see how his favouring the ethnologists instrumentalist account is anything other than an a priori decision itself.
On the long misunderstood subject of the applicability of
Wittgensteins languagegames to religious language, Cook adds to
the confusion rather than subtracting from it. He claims that
Wittgenstein was wrong in his view that religious people do not
have beliefs about the world. They do, and their language reflects
these transcendental beliefs. Wittgenstein, Cook says, interprets religious language as merely about the believer, but if he had actually
looked at their language, he would have seen that it was about a
transcendent God and His presence in the world. The language of
religious belief, therefore, is no different from any other language. It
is intended to put forward a belief about some object and should be
verified like any other language of belief. We take it that Cooks
unstated conclusion is that religious language is false or nonsense.
Both Wittgenstein and D. Z. Phillips have recommended that we
not take a realist view of religious language. If we do not take a
realist view, i.e. that it refers to some real object, then we reduce it
to something about the way we feel phenomenalism. But what
then becomes of the future and past tenses in religious language?
God will do . . . and God did. . . . The phenomenalist view then
must deny that there is any meaningful use of future and past tenses
in religious language. This is, according to Cook, exactly what
Wittgenstein and Phillips do. And again, if they had followed
Wittgensteins own advice and actually examined the language of
religious believers, they would have given up this view. Consider the
believers language of the last judgment that Christ will come again
to judge the living and the dead. Wittgenstein says, according to
Cook, that this is not a statement about what will happen in the
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that certain actual practices, in the sociological sense of lived experience, may be confused but these, it seems to me, are not forms of
life in the way Wittgenstein used the term. This may be a minor
issue, but I think Ellenbogen could have avoided a weakness in an
otherwise excellent book.
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begins with a short Introduction, in which Glock explains his motivations and critical orientation, and outlines the contents and conclusions of the nine chapters to follow. There are detailed treatments
of the topics anyone with even a passing familiarity with Quines
and Davidsons ideas would naturally expect, sprinkled with a few
interesting surprises. One such unusual topic is taken up in the final
chapter, where Glock delves into the question of the mental states
of nonhuman animals, given their apparent inability to express concepts linguistically. The problem arises naturally as a way of challenging the limited third-person perspective of Quines behavioristic
account of stimulus-meanings and the problem of radical translation,
morphed by Davidson into the problem of radical interpretation.
Glock writes lucidly and entertainingly. His arguments are penetrating and deserving of serious reflection, and he has an enviable
talent for bringing together the disparate elements of these philosophers standpoints on various issues to make them understandable as
a target of criticism. Glock begins with a comparative discussion of
Quine and Davidsons philosophies as a convergent product of logical
positivism, especially through the writings of Rudolf Carnap, and
American pragmatism from the standpoint of William James and C.
S. Peirce. Glock attacks Quines syntactical criterion of ontological
commitment as irreducibly intensional, and hence at odds with
Quines preference for a purely extensional semantics. He offers a
close reading of Quines efforts to dissolve the analytic-synthetic distinction in the latters landmark essay, Two Dogmas of Empiricism,
arguing that Quines early attack on analyticity is the source of his
longstanding naturalism in epistemology and ontology. He criticizes
Davidsons efforts to make Tarskis concept of truth in closed formal
languages the basis for a theory of meaning in open natural languages, leading to Davidsons more recent declaration that the
concept of truth is so basic as to be indefinable. The problem of
radical translation in Quines philosophy and of radical interpretation in Davidson is examined by Glock in three extensive chapters.
Quine introduces radical translation as a way of undermining intensional entities in the theory of meaning, but Glock argues that the
behavioristic model of radical translation is unsuited for this task, as
the actual practice of field linguistics effectively demonstrates. He
concludes that the need to make anthropological assumptions in any
radical translation or interpretation scenario invalidates the purely
behavioristic assumptions of Quines thought experiment and the
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actions which are unforgivable overlap with actions which are evil
or whether one is a sub-class of the other. There is going to be an
element of stipulation here. Against Garrard, Scarre points out that
many agents perform evil actions by allowing other considerations
to outweigh those which militate against them. Macbeth or Raskolnikov offer examples.
Scarre thinks that both the notions of evil and of forgiveness are
multi-faceted or multi-form, by which I think he means systematically ambiguous. Rather different forms are gathered together under
one heading. I was not convinced that evil is multi-form. It is, it
seems, what used to be rather simplistically termed an evaluative
concept; Scarre acknowledges this when he says that it has little
explanatory value and is no substitute for a close moral analysis.
Perhaps we might agree that somebody who refused to call the holocaust evil might have a less than adequate grasp of the concept,
though this is by no means clear an anti-Semite with a racist ideology might use the word evil much as we do in other contexts but we would presume, until we know the worst about him, that he
is ignorant of certain facts about the matter. For in general people
who use the word evil to describe very different events reveal differences in moral judgement but not differences in the content of
the word.
Forgiveness, however, does seem to be multifaceted. To take only
the most striking feature, often noted and discussed here, forgiveness
is regularly treated as if it were a speech-act but there are many cases
where it seems not to be an act at all. The question arises directly
when we consider whether forgiveness requires overcoming resentment. The process involved is likely to be lengthy, to involve focusing attention away from the offence and it is hard to see that this
could be an action in any direct way. Even if we treat I forgive you
as a performative which commits the speaker not to seek revenge, a
theory which has been suggested by those who think it can be a
speech act, still it does not seem on all fours with a speech act such
as promising. If you forgave and then sought revenge, the offender
would be entitled to say not But you forgave me, thus paralleling
You promised me but You said you forgave me (but you did not.)
Consequently, there seems no logical difficulty with forgiving being
subsequently withdrawn or with the offended thinking she has been
forgiven when she has not. Indeed, in so much as forgiveness can
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