Granularity and Relativism about Truth

The doctrine of semantic granularity can, I think, shed considerable light on the meaning and motivation of relativism about truth. It may even help resolve debates surrounding it.

In this post I will try to briefly indicate how I think this is so. I had a post on granularity and the paradox of analysis lined up for this month, but I will postpone it and get this one out now, in response to this related post on the blog language goes on holiday.

This may not be very clear to others yet, although I think I have it fairly clear in my own mind. Reading the other posts on granularity here, including future ones, will certainly help. (Soon I will do a granularity "roundup" post, collecting them all in one place and sumarizing their contents, but for now see the bottom of this post.) I will try my best under present constraints, in the hope that some reader gets something clear out of this.

Why bother? Well, I think this may be a pretty powerful and important application of granularity, since relativism about truth is such a vexed and widely ramified issue in our intellectual culture. Anyway, here goes.

Granularity and Relativism about Truth

Once the doctrine of granularity is on the table in its basic form, questions of this sort arise (among others): OK, meanings and the like can be carved up at different granularities, but what is the range of possible carvings up?

Surely there are limits; it is far from being the case that, for every two instances of thought or talk, there is a granularity at which they are counted as meaning the same. And it seems quite probable, although this is more debatable, that it also isn't the case that, for every two instances of thought or talk, there is a granularity at which they are counted as differing in meaning.

And do these different possible carvings up fall on a continuum, or are there multiple dimensions of what may count and what may not count towards difference in meaning? (I think the answer is that there are multiple dimensions, and I will try to say something about this in future.)

Now, these sorts of questions suggest a basic constraint on possible or "admissible" granularities for carving up propositions: if two instances of propositions are to be counted as meaning the same, they had better not differ in truth-value.

And now we can see relativism about truth in a new light, namely as the rejection of this constraint.

Furthermore, it is not hard to see how, in certain areas, it may be tempting to reject the constraint. Between two instances, there may be so much of the sort of stuff which usually counts toward sameness of meaning in common that it is really tempting to count them - at some granularity - as meaning the same, while nevertheless certain other important stuff differs so as to make (it best to say that) the truth-values come out differently in the two instances.

This may be particularly likely to happen with the rich and complicated concepts in the moral and aesthetic domains. And perhaps others too. And so we get a new perspective on the motivation of relativism about truth as well.

Of course, in many areas this sort of thing just won't happen - the motivation won't be there. It has often been observed (most saliently in my memory by my former teacher Adrian Heathcote, in unpublished writings) that relativism about truth appeals to people in some domains, such as morality and aesthetics, where it would never seem appealing in others. And so the general, woolly-seeming doctrine that all truth is relative can be and often is condemned as being based on a far too narrow diet of examples: you may be tempted to say such a thing after considering some moral or aesthetic matter (for instance), but with other matters such as basic geography or facts about how many chairs there are in some easily observable room, the notion that something may be true for me, while something else is true for you, would never occur to anyone, and seems completely absurd.

But relativism about truth need not be maintained that way - it may be maintained that in some areas, or with some propositions, truth is relative. Call this moderate relativism.

And, as I have tried to indicate, granularity considerations can shed some light on what this may mean, and what may motivate it. This in itself is, I think, a good advertisement for the power of granularity considerations, as relativism about truth is a big deal, especially in the borderlands of philosophy.

OK, good. But now a further question comes up: is it true? Are there, in some areas or with some kinds of propositions, admissible granularities on which two instances of propositions get counted as meaning the same but differing in truth-value?

I think that here we need to consider allowing the possibility of a kind of pluralism - slightly different sets of concepts such that, on one set, the issue gets decided one way, and on another set, the issue gets decided the other way. For instance, it could be that the maintainer of moderate relativism has a slightly broader or more flexible notion of meaning/proposition than the denier. And perhaps realizing that may enable them to resolve their dispute.

Still, it may give way to different disputes about how best to use certain words, and about which concepts to deploy where - but these may be more tractable.

(Here we get into the difficult and important topic of verbal disputes. Chalmers has recently had things to say on this topic, which was arguably being neglected before he did so. See his paper 'Verbal Disputes'.)

So, granularity considerations can be fruitfully applied to relativism about truth. They may help to (i) clarify its meaning, (ii) shed light on what motivates its adoption and (iii) help show the way to a resolution of debates over it.

Related Posts

Kripke's Puzzle and Semantic Granularity

Facts and Granularity

Granularity and Quine

Metaphysical Realism and Conceptual Relativity: An Application of Granularity

On Conceptually Progressive Propositions

The following remarks were written around 2010 - early 2011, when I was training myself in Wittgenstein's later methods.

1. In some cases where we wonder at the (metaphysical, conceptual) possibility of something, imaginability, conceivability in full detail seems to be close to what is at issue - i.e., whether the thing can be 'worked out'. In other cases however, it is quite different. In other cases, the question is closer to: ought we conceive of this? (This is connected with what I want to call railed vs. unrailed sponteneous concept formation in Wittgenstein's philosophy of math, knowing how to go on vs. discovering how.)

2. An example: suppose someone says that when a cat weaves around someone's legs, they are asserting ownership of this person. (I was actually told this as a child.) We might now consider whether this is so, get puzzled, and then consider whether it is even possible for part of a normal cat's normal behaviour to turn out to amount to an assertion of ownership. Here, it is quite unnatural to think that any kind of conceivability or imaginability (however detailed) is at issue. We have seen the behaviour a hundred times. We can imagine it perfectly well. What, now, does it mean to imagine it being an assertion of ownership? (Furthermore, actually being such an assertion - by which I mean that it does not count to merely imagine that one is dealing with some extraordinary cat who can think and communicate with conventional signals, or indeed anything out of the ordinary.)

3. The assertion that the cat is asserting ownership, and countless others like it, have a special character - it is granted in advance, so to speak, that the cat is not asserting ownership by the usual criteria. Conceptually progressive propositions, but also linguistically progressive propositions. (The former are perhaps well seen as a proper subset of the latter.)

4. One feels like saying: here, a decision is needed (although this is misleading in that no conscious decision is needed, no freedom to decide either way need be felt, etc.).

5. Within such cases, one might distinguish those which as it were call for full-blown (literal?) acceptance, while others are not concerned with that, being, rather, quasi-metaphorical, quasi-analogies. But - and hopefully this is seems trite - there is no clear line between literal truth and analogy, figure, simile, metaphor. However, with the latter, one of the characteristic things is that a decision isn't really needed in the full sense. However, one may still reject or embrace ('work with') the idea, criticize it, modify it, etc.

6. (Simile as a minimal literalization of metaphor - in effect, the literal truth one gets to when one accepts a metaphor as a metaphor. Which isn't to say that all similes are such literalizations, but rather: given an acceptable metaphor, one can get a literally true simile.)

7. An interesting feature of the cat case is that, in a sense, the verification and falsification conditions are already in place. It is already clear that, if one accepts this kind of proposition at all, one will count 'the cat asserted ownership' true when the cat weaved around the person's legs, false otherwise. Obviously it will be a more subtle than that, for many reasons - vagueness about whether weaving took place, the possibility of the cat being in some pathological state which just happens to involve weaving, etc. - but still, the point remains that the working criteria are not the focus of the problem. Reflection on this leads to the comparison of the cat proposition (in its progressive use) with a proposal of the adoption of a norm of expression.

8. Whenever something like that is said (i.e. 'a norm of expression'), it looks as though something important is being skirted over too easily. This is connected with the fact that this is no merely conventional, arbitrary norm of expression. It is highly charged with significance, with meaning. Also: to say it is a norm of expression might suggest that it is not a norm of thought. That thought goes on underneath, and this norm relates to how the thought gets 'put into words'. But the cat case is obviously not like that.

9. To think of a badly treated mechanical device as suffering, feeling sympathy for it - this is a perfectly possible form of thought which, as a matter of fact, ordinary adults do not engage in. (Here my saying 'as a matter of fact' may give a wrong impression, namely that I think it would be 'just as good' to do that, or that we can't say anything against such a viewpoint, etc. But not at all. I'm not getting into that.) 

10. The cat case, and the case of the suffering vacuum cleaner, are interesting partly because they make trouble for a certain oversimplification of the working of language which is, in certain circumstances, natural for us.

11. The oversimplification is something like this: in cases where the working criteria are not an issue, but where judgement one way or the other sets a kind of precedent (for the remainder of a conversation or train of thought (internal monologue), at least), it may look like the issue is 'merely verbal', 'merely pragmatic', or something of the sort. But this is liable to be extremely misleading; it focuses on the comparison of such a case to that of, say, the adoption of a perfectly arbitrary label, to the exclusion of other comparisons. The consequences are very different here from those which follow an arbitrary labelling decision. (Associations.)

12. It is instructive to reflect that sometimes we accept provisionally a conceptual precedent for the purposes of a conversation (or even a private train of thought), but have misgivings about it. We feels, as it were, that quite possibly we can get on OK with it for now, that to start critiquing here might be impractical at this point (e.g. in an involved conversation where we will have to go to bed soon, or get off the phone or something), but that, were the stakes to be raised, so to speak, we would have to try to sort it out.

13. Consider a conversation of this sort. The limitations one characteristically feels in such discussions. (Consider especially the case where your conversation partner doesn't see any difficulty.) Thoughts have potential problems other than falsity! Truths, expressed in a certain way, can be almost false. One almost wants to talk here of a 'higher' kind of truth and falsity, of verification and falsification. (I think Hegel actually does something of this sort at the beginning of his Logic.)

14. 'They believe a machine suffers!' - this could be thought to be an inadequate, misleading statement in a similar way to 'Cantor showed that there are numbers larger than the number of natural numbers' - except in the first case, the thing is rejected as absurd, in the second case, accepted as mind-bogglingly wonderful. (There are, of course, reasons for these different treatments.) In both cases, an extended conception is being regarded from the point of view of a narrower one.

15. ((There is a false note here, interestingly. I feel like saying: no, those who believe that the machine suffers do not have an extended concept, it is we who have a restricted one. We've got more structure, so to speak. We could have a concept similar to but distinct from our concept of suffering, which we apply to machines. Thus we have a sort of distinction where they have none. Or, we could apply something like that more minimal concept across the board, and then add something for the case of "real suffering".))

16. The proposition that a machine suffers could actually be embedded, quite deeply, into a highly sophisticated conceptual framework. The point being: it is not a proposition which can only survive in very primitive or childish systems. One could talk of panprotopsychism (Chalmers), a continuum of organizational complexity, and with it a continuum of suffering. So complex human computers in disorder, on such a view, perhaps suffer about as much as an insect. How far can it be taken? To vacuum cleaners? Hot water bottles? Not the latter. (The human teleology (purpose) of the object, if such there be, would naturally not play any part in its placement on the continuum.)

17. How do we know that rocks aren't incredibly sad? If this is metaphysically impossible, how do we know that? This is another case where imagination seems quite irrelevent. There's nothing to picture except the rock - or one might imagine being sad. Both procedures are clearly idle!

18. I believe that any reason given to think that rocks aren't sad is going to be bunk. What is disturbing here is the strong inclination toward finding such reasons nonetheless. It suggests deep infelicities in our thinking.

A Plea for Conceptual Schemes

Introduction 

In 1974, Donalad Davidson published a now famous paper entitled 'On the Very Idea of a Conceptual Scheme', in which he attacked that idea and exhorted the reader to give it up. One reason Davidson set upon this idea was his evident hunch that it lay behind the pernicious, nebulous doctrine of the relativity of truth. Another, perhaps more fundamental, reason, was his desire to see the world and our understanding of it in terms of a metaphysics of sentences and objects, without employing things like concepts and propositions.

I think the idea of a conceptual scheme a highly serviceable one, and that Davidson's attack is confused. I believe that the idea of a conceptual scheme has a good deal of unrealized potential in the philosophy of modality and many other areas. My object here is simply to vouchsafe the idea from Davidson's attack. 

 

The Problem of Comparison and Neutrality

Early in his paper, Davidson makes this remark, which goes to the essence of his attack:  

[T]here is no chance that someone can take up a vantage point for comparing conceptual schemes by temporarily shedding his own.
(Davidson 1979/1984, p. 185. Page references are to the 1984 version.)

This is true, but misleading. True, because we cannot do anything by temporarily shedding our conceptual scheme - the immediate reason being is that there is no such thing as 'temporarily shedding our conceptual schemes' in the required sense (i.e. while retaining some kind of rationality or sentience). Misleading, because it seems to carry the implication that scheme-shedding would be the way we ought to proceed with a comparison, if only this were possible.

Against this, I want to insist that the only conceivable way we could compare two conceptual schemes is from within our own. We have a conception of the world (surely!). Part of that conception is the idea that there are conceptions - of the world, in the world. We are self-conscious. We think about our thinking and that of others, and when we do this we employ our conception of our own conceptions, and our conception of others' conceptions.

Of course, if we compare our conceptual scheme with another, our ideas of these two schemes will not be on a par epistemologically. This difference cannot be factored out. However, we should try to be as objective as we can, and this means trying to improve our conception of our conceptions, and those of others, and the relations between them.

Davidson, on the other hand, apparently has some idea to the effect that, as long as we are 'stuck' in our own conceptual schemes, comparison will be impossible or at the very least greatly hampered. Indeed, some notion of being stuck seems to lie at the root of this part of the confusion.


'The Dualism of Scheme and Content'

According to Davidson

[the] dualism of scheme and content, of organizing system and something waiting to be organized, cannot be made intelligible and defensible. It is itself a dogma of empiricism, the third dogma. (p. 189.)

Now, I do not want to argue with the claim that no dualism between scheme and content could be made good sense of. Rather, the point is that no notion of a dualism is called for to support the idea of a conceptual scheme.

In our ordinary ideas of 'scheme and content', I should think, it is understood that the scheme itself is potentially part of the content, and parts of this potential content - such as concepts - inhere in the scheme.

Simply put: There is no dualism of scheme and content. A distinction is not a dualism.

The idea of a dualism of scheme and content is bound up with a fundamental misunderstanding of the 'content' part of that idea, arising from a certain picture we possess of the situation, and an attitude toward this picture which most of us, in certain circumstances, are strongly inclined to take. (Cf. the notion of the thing-in-itself.) While this phenomenon is of fundamental importance in parts of philosophy, I maintain that it is not an essential part of our practical understanding of the idea of a conceptual scheme. On the contrary, and as the existence of Davidson's paper shows, it can be an obstacle.


The Problem of 'Uninterpreted Reality'

Davidson wants us to give up 'dependence on the concept of an uninterpreted reality, something outside all schemes and science'. The great unclarity here is: what do the phrases 'uninterpreted reality' and 'something outside all schemes and science' mean in this context?

As suggested in the previous section, the 'content' or 'world' term of the conceptual representation relation need not be thought of as some amorphous fundament, some uninterpreted thing-in-itself. We live in the world - in reality - and we interpret it. Reality, since we are real and interpret it, just is interpreted; there is no reality which, as a whole, is completely uninterpreted.

What about parts of reality? The particular objects, events and processes which intelligent beings talk and think about are parts of interpreted reality - parts of reality which get interpreted. Thus my desk is part of interpreted reality, as are Denmark, Donald Davidson, Beethoven's Ninth, Saturn and many other things besides.

It is quite commonly believed, in our culture, that other parts of reality are uninterpreted; if some small pebble somewhere has never been apprehended or encountered in any way by an intelligence, then this individual is, in some sense, part of uninterpreted reality. Quite obviously, this is not the sort of thing Davidson means by 'uninterpreted reality'.

We might instead take the phrase 'uninterpreted reality' to mean 'reality considered separately from any interpretational or conceptual apparatus'. Then surely this can include chairs, tables, and the rest of it. ('Considered separately from interpretational or conceptual apparatus' obviously doesn't mean 'considered without recourse to any interpretational or conceptual apparatus'.) So this doesn't seem to be what Davidson means, either.

Regarding the phrase 'something outside all schemes and science': isn't the desk I am working at now outside all schemes and science? Surely my desk is not inside a conceptual scheme, or inside science (whatever that means).
 

The following passage from Rorty, who enthusiastically embraced Davidson's critique of the idea of conceptual schemes, gives us more to work with:

The notion of 'the world' as used in a phrase like 'different conceptual schemes carve up the world differently' must be the notion of something completely unspecified and unspecifiable - the thing in itself, in fact. A soon as we start thinking of 'the world' as atoms and the void, or sense data and awareness of them, or 'stimuli' of a certain sort brought to bear upon organs of a certain sort, we have changed the name of the game. For we are now well within some particular theory about how the world is.

(Rorty 1982, p. 14.)

I deny the first assertion. The notion works like this: we use our conceptual schemes and understand there to be chairs, tables, numbers, quarks, experiences, concepts and schemes thereof. Then we form an idea of different schemes carving up the world differently. Here, our idea of the world is still our idea of the world, i.e. an idea of something which contains chairs, tables, numbers, quarks, experiences, concepts and schemes (among who knows what else).

In a strange way, Davidson and Rorty seem to make the very mistake they appear to be warning against. In saying queer things about 'uninterpreted reality', they try to identify a thing we can't say anything about. Or: they try to give the content of a notion they want to criticize, but in so doing they only embroil themselves in the confusion which bothers them. It is this confusion, I believe, which leads Davidson and Rorty to loudly and violently reject the idea of a conceptual scheme. They reached for the saw; I suggest we consider a scalpel.

Tristan Haze

References

Davidson, D. 1974. 'On the Very Idea of a Conceptual Scheme', Proceedings and Addresses of the American Philosophical Association, Vol. 47, pp. 5-20.

The above reprinted 1984 in Donald Davidson (ed.), Inquiries Into Truth and Interpretation. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Rorty, R. 1982. 'The World Well Lost', Consequences of Pragmatism, Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press.