Two Criteria for an Ideal Language Gustav Bergmann Philosophy of Science, Vol. 16, No. 1. (Jan., 1949), pp. 71-74. Stable URL: http://links.jstor.org/sici?sici=0031-8248%28194901%2916%3A1%3C71%3ATCFAIL%3E2.0.CO%3B2-2 Philosophy of Science is currently published by The University of Chicago Press.
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TWO CRITERIA FOR AN IDEAL LANGUAGE" GUSTAV BERGMANN
The lucidity of Mr. Copilowish's argument makes the task of the reviewer very pleasant, even if he disagrees as completely as I do with the conclusion, which is the main thesis Mr. Copilowish attempts to prove. Only a t one minor point does his exposition not quite suit my taste. He chose to preface his argument with a string of quotations supposedly supporting the position he wishes to defend. I t seems to me that with the proper historical precautions these passages allow for a very different interpretation. Yet I shall not pursue this matter, partly because I believe that Mr. Copilowish merely followed a literary stereotype, but mainly because the issue ought to be discussed on its merits rather than through the clouds of witness one could adduce on either side. The thesis itself, as I understand it, asserts that by and large language analysis is of no philosophical significance. However, Mr. Copilowish shows his judiciousness by not defending his thesis, or attacking its contradictory, in this vague prcliminary form. Instead, he attacks a position that may be stated as follo~vs: The proper way of exhibiting t h ~structure of our world is to construct an idpal language in which to talk about it; for the structure of such a lanyuwe i s , in somc sense, a picture of the structure of the world. Before I retrace the strategy of Mr. Copilowish's attack on this position-we shall see that it proceeds along two different lines-I wish to forestall, without attributing it to him, one very crude and obvious misunderstanding. No one in his right mind will deny that as long as one studies symbolic systems as such, all one can learn from them about the world belongs to the physics of pencils and papers and to the psychology of those who play these fascinating and intricate games. But from this it does not fo1lo.uthat the products of the formalists are not invaluable and, perhaps, even indispensable tools of the philosopher, though his concern, as far as he is a philosopher, is admittedly not with synlbols as such. The situation is, I believe, closely analogous to a very familiar one in physics. For, are there not many among us who would agree, irrespective of other differences in opinion, that the gap between pure mathematics on the one hand and theoretical physics on the other is, in one sense, unbridgeable? Yet no one denies that mathematics is an invaluable and even an indispensable tool of physics. But now for the two prongs of the attack. The main thrust, or what I believe Mr. Copilowish considers to be the main thrust, is as massive as it is simple; I daresay, a little too massive and a little too simple. Its point is that the capacity of reflecting accurately the relevant features of the world is part of the definition of an ideal language. Thus, in order to know whether any given language is ideal, one must first know what these features are. To be sure, if a criterion were set up this way, those who propose it would be caught in a circularity as obvious as it is inescapable. I submit, there-
* Paper read, in reply t o the preceding one, a t the Meeting of t21c Western Ilivision of the American Philosophical Association. a t Knox College in May 1948. 71
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fore, that irrespective of what some "linguistic philosophers" may have said, the criterion of adequacy they actually use is not what Mr. Copilowish believes it to be. I n my opinion, a language that can be spoken about the world has to fulfill two criteria to be ideal in the sense of the thesis I wish to defend. One of these criteria-the one relevant here-demands that in such a language the so-called philosophical puzzles disappear, or, as some put it, that they cannot even be stated in it. The accuracy of this particular formulation of the criterion is not the point in jeopardy. The point is that I do know what those puzzles are and that I can know it before I know what the ontological structure of the world is. I n other words, the critical phrase is not 'ideal language' but, rather, 'ontological structure of the world'. What I , for one, mean by a metaphysical or ontological feature is what corresponds to certain structural features of the ideal language. Consider, for instance, that according to some the ideal language is a subjectpredicate pattern. I have no doubt that this grammatical feature-which, as such, is best clarified and put into relief by the formalistic study of symbolisms that do not possess it-corresponds to that structural or, if you please, ontological feature of the world to which "nonlinguistic philosophers" refer as exemplification. But some critics feel that while language analysis may thus be used to guide us to a counterpart of ontology, there is no reason to believe that if we want to be safe, we must always talk about the reflection (e.g., the subjec.t-predicate form) instead of talking about the thing itself (e.g., exemplification). Yet the "linguistic philosophers" make much of this latter point. It should a t least be mentioned that this claim raises a further question which, as far as I can see, has not been raised by Mr. Copilowish and which I shall, therefore, not discuss. I turn to another question or, rather, objection which he does raise. The answer to it, t,hough not difficult, is very enlightening. So far I have spoken of the ideal language. But just as there are several ways of axiornatizing Euclidean geometry, there could be (provided that there is any) two or more ideal languages. If two of these were to differ in structure, how are we to know which reflects the structure of the world? To clear up this apparent difficulty, I shall, like Mr. Copilowish, use a mathematical analogy which, like his, is really more than a mere analogy. Whenever two formalisms stand in the relation, mediated by something each of them is about, of being both representations of this something, then there are also certain purely formal features-the sort of thing mathematicians call invariants-that characterize the two formalisms qua formalisms. And it is only such invariant traits of an ideal language that can be called ontological features in a strict sense; For only about them could there be nonverbal disagreement. So we see that tfhisparticular objection does not embarrass thc linguistic philosopher; it merely gives him an opportunity to explain what is, rrlathematically speali-ing, 8 truism, though admittedly an important one. I turn now to the second prong of the attack. This time we are not told that one of our criteria is circular but, rather, that certain other criteria an ideal language is supposed to satisfy are impossible of fulfillment. Faced with this attack, the defense will have to change its tactics. Accordingly, I shall argue, .first, that it would be foolish indeed to expect the ideal language to satisfy the
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criteria that Mr. Copilowish thinks we, the linguistic philosophers, expect it to satisfy. Second, I shall myself state a certain condition of completeness, in a specific sense of the term, which is, in my opinion, the second criterion an ideal language must satisfy and which it may very well satisfy without satisfying those other criteria that are ideal only in the spurious sense of being impossible of fulfillment. Mr. Copilowish mentions three such criteria; I shall discuss the two which I understand. First, he observes that according toa celebratedmathematical theorem a symbolism as complex as the ideal language must be expected to be cannot have a certain mathematical property technically known as completeness. Why, of course not! But then, what has this sort of completeness to do with "logical perfection", a very curious and, to me, quite unintelligible notion Mr. Copilowish introduces on this occasion? And, again, whatever the term signifies to him, why should the ideal language be logically perfect? All I can see here is, not an argument, but a verbal bridge designed to lead us, by two unpermissible substitutions, from 'complete' over 'perfect' to 'ideal'. Next we are told that because of the vagueness of many descriptive characters in our world no language could be completely precise. Thus, or so the argument goes, no language can be ideal. All that needs to be said in reply is that this time the bridge leads from 'precise' to 'ideal'. Let me now try to explain briefly the peculiar sense in which I believe the ideal language must be complete or exhaustive. First I shall say what I do not mean and, as we so often must in philosophy, I shall say it throughananalogy. Physical science is becoming ever more complete and exhaustive; in this sense it approaches a goal or ideal. But does that mean that our physicists know, or, for that matter, care to know which leaves the next storm will shake from the tree in front of my window? Such futile exhaustiveness is not an ideal in any sense; so I see no reason why the ideal language should be expected to realize it, the less so since, unlike the language of science, it is not one actually to be spoken for the sake of greater efficiency, precision, exhaustiveness, or what not. Who wants to use it for such purposes acts like the man who tried to live, not in a house, but in the blueprint of one. But then, a. blueprint or schema may ormay not, according to its function, be complete and this, in either case, without showing all the details in the granulation of the wall paint. The ideal language, as I conceive it, is not a language actually to be spoken but a blue print or schema, complete only in the sense that it must show, in principle, the structure and systematic arrangement of all the major areas of our experience. The following three examples will help to explicate this meaning of completeness. First, it is not sufficient for our schema to show, in principle, how behavioristic psychology reconstructs the other fellow's mind; it must also provide, and relate to the first, an account uf awareness as given. Second, it must contain, not only the logic of the sociology oi value judgments, but also what some call their phenomenology. Third, it rnust have a place, not only for such statements as 'this is green', but also for the kind exemplified by 'I know (see, remember, etc.) that this is green.' The interplay between my two criteria is, I trust, obvious. Only if the second is satisfied can we be sure-or, a t least, as sure as we may be of anythingthat mnic of the puzzles mentioned in the first have not been ignored rather than
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dissolved. Thus there is only one more thing I should like to say. I do believe that the two criteria are both intelligible and defensible, yet I would be the first to admit the grave shortcomings of many of the ideal languages or schemata so far proposed by linguistic philosophers. The less sophisticated positivists, in particular, have violated the second criterion by their proneness to mistake the language of science for the ideal language. Tlte State University of Iowa
REPLY TO PROFESSOR BERGMANN IRVING M. COPILOWISH
I appreciate the force of Professor Bergmann's genial criticisms, even though I am unsure of their direction. They indicate the need, however, to clarify some aspects of my paper. To this I shall proceed. 1. I do not mean to argue that language analysis is not important for philosophy. I t is of the greatest importance for logic, aesthetics, ethics, and perhaps epistemology. But it cannot have the importance for metaphysics that Russell and Wittgenstein have claimed, because their program does involve a viciou~ circle. 2. The criteria for an ideal language that I mention are just those to which Russell and Wittgenstein attach greatest importance. My remarks on completeness, precision, etc., were not "verbal bridges" to lead by "unpermissable substitutions" to the notion of an ideal language. These are the properties in terms of which the authors I was criticizing characterize or define their conception of an ideal language. An examination of their texts mill show this to be the case. 3. Professor Bergmann's ideal for language is clearly different from the RussellWittgenstein conception. Chacun son go0t. In defending his own notion, he is not defending theirs; and it was theirs, not his, that I mas criticizing. 4. I shall allow myself the luxury of one criticism of Professor Bergmann's criteria. They depend, in part, upon "the so-called philosophical puzzles" which must "disappear" in an ideal language. I admit that there are some phi!osophical puzzles, but I insist that there are also some real philosophical problems. I am milling for the first tJodisappear, but I must insist that the problems be dolved rather than exorcised. But puzzles and problems cannot be disinguished except on the basis of a given metaphysics. For example, Zeno's paradox of the arrow becomes a platitude within the framework of Russell's cinematographic metaphysics. But in a metaphysics of substance, the matter is otherwise. The inference is simple, but not "too simple". Distinguishing philosophical problems from puzzles is necessary for the establishment of an ideal language. Since they can only be distinguished within the framework of a particular metaphysics, a metaphysics must be chosen or constructed prior to the construction of an idcal language. These remarks serve to point further my thesis that metaphysical questions are prior to linguistic ones, and cannot be decided by means of the latter. University of Illinois
