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It’s a cliché that you always think of the right thing to say after the discussion is over. I think it’s got some truth to it though. Here is what I ought to have said recently when I was talking about differences between epistemic contextualism and contextualism in the semantics of personal taste predicates.
The semantic contextualist has a real problem with keeping content fixed. It seems reasonable to say that two speakers are disagreeing iff their utterances have the same content, plus or minus a negation operator. The details may get messy but the central idea seems to be sound. It may be that some versions of contextualism try and work with only suitably similar content, but most try and claim it is identical. This tends to lead to problems for them. Not least, how is their view then contextualist rather than relativist?
On the contrary the whole point of epistemic contextualism, at least as I see it, is to deny that ‘knows’ has the same content in different contexts. Again the details are difficult but the line of approach is clear.
From this it emerges that the links between semantic and epistemic contextualism are actually pretty tenuous, at least as far as a unified approach to both topics is concerned. What helps one project in a theory is likely to harm the other.
I’ve been re-reading John MacFarlane’s paper ‘Relativism and Disagreement’ this afternoon. It has a nice account of the key problem for contextualists when it comes to the semantics of predicates of personal taste: preserving what he calls the ‘phenomenology of disagreement’. I’m also a fan of the discussion at the end of how and why such terms could ever come to be part of our linguistic practices when they’re so strange. I think that this sort of issue is often ignored when people write about these things.
I did come across something that I found puzzling in his proposed solution to the problem. At one point he writes:
To be a relativist, then, is not to relativize propositional truth to “nonstandard parameters” like standards of taste, but to adopt a certain view about how the accuracy of certain acts or states is to be assessed.
It looks like there is a distinction between accuracy and truth playing a role here. Earlier in the paper such a distinction has indeed been introduced, but it is used to mark the distinction between utterances and propositions. The thought is that an utterance(-token) is an act and an act is not the kind of thing that can be true or false, merely accurate or inaccurate. I think that that’s a reasonable claim to make but I remember wondering when I first read it whether it was going to do any real work. It seems that it does, but, read like that, the work it’s doing looks rather dubious. If the distinction is in play only because utterances are acts then it seems obscure how that can be the bone of contention between relativists and contextualists.
I also wanted to to mention something that has been exercising me about the whole field recently. Looking at MacFarlane’s view I find it hard to discern much difference between it and the position of Peter Lasersohn. I have similar difficulty in finding any big picture differences between Lasersohn and the views of Jonathan Schaffer, at least as they were presented at his recent talk to Arché’s Contextualism and Relativism seminar. But MacFarlane is a relativist and Schaffer is a contextualist. If they disagree more about detail than they do about grand philosophy, then where is the importance of the distinction between these two terms? That’s assuming that I’m not lumping together views that should be kept apart due to a poor understanding of them. I hope I’m not.
I’m still puzzled by linguistic tests and related issues. I think that the following will do as a paradigm example. We want to test e to see if it plays the role of a gradable adjective in English. Suppose we run the test with two candidates, ‘tall’ and ‘knows’. We might then have:
‘Jane is taller than Jill.’
# ‘Jill knows more than Jane that snow is white.’
The ‘#’ is, I believe, commonly used to indicate the supposed unacceptability of an expression. One trouble i have is in being precise about just what defect is being marked. The problem is that I do see that the expression is defective, I suppose I want to say that it is in some sense not well-formed. Of course I can’t say that it’s because the sentence is false. Things in displayed contexts like the above aren’t even assertions in the usual way. (This is an important point in the later sections of the Cappelen and Lepore book that I mentioned in a earlier post.)
I suppose my main worry is in what sense such things are to count as tests, as a way to sort expressions once we have decided what categories are available for them to belong to but before we have decided to which categories they do belong. For example, take the second test described in Cappelen and Lepore’s book. This test relies on collecting expressions together in a single context. So, if we want to test ‘yesterday’ we construct certain sentences and observe that even though we can have a context in which:
‘Jane left yesterday’
and one in which:
‘Jill left yesterday.’
there need not be one in which:
‘Jane and Jill left yesterday’
Context-sensitive expressions block such collective descriptions, not in the sense that such a collective description is always false, but in that just because there are true utterances of the components there need not be any context in which there could be a true utterance of the collected expression.
Of course this is true, and plausibly all the basic set block collective descriptions and certain intuitively insensitive expressions (e.g. ‘Penguin’) do not. What bothers me about the whole practice of testing is that if I thought ‘Penguin’ were context-sensitive, wouldn’t I report that it blocked collective descriptions? And if I had no idea whether it was or not, wouldn’t I avoid committing myself? It looks like the test marks a sharp distinction between the sensitive and the insensitive but does it really count as a way of discriminating between them?
Maybe the story to be told is that the withholding or applying the ‘#’ on the basis of intuition is the real result of the test. It seems to me that everyone who uses tests, i.e. many philosophers of language, owe a story of what this consists in. I’ve not yet come across it.
I’ve been looking at some of the literature on linguistic tests for context-sensitivity. I’d like to write something here about some thoughts I’ve had about the notion in general, but I’m going to leave that for another time. Now I’m just going to mention something that struck me about one of the tests described in Herman Cappelen and Ernie Lepore’s Insensitive Semantics. It’s test 3 described on pp. 104-106. The thought is that we can test the context-sensitivity of expression e by thinking up a sentence S that includes e. Then we put S in the following schema and see what happens:
There can be false utterances of ‘S’ even though S.
An example of something to test would be ’she’, as in:
There can be false utterances of ‘She is French’ even though she is French.
And this is indeed so, people are frequently mistaken about who is French even if I am right that the woman I’m pointing at is. So far so good for the test as ’she’ is a common ground context-sensitive expression. What about things that we think shouldn’t be, like ‘penguin’? The problem I have is that I think, purely intuitively, that the following is true as well:
There can be false utterances of ‘Penguins are happy’ even though penguins are happy.
Penguins might not have been happy and even though they’re happy now they may well have been unhappy in the past and they may have dark times ahead. It seems to me that you could rule out enough things that these possibilities don’t seem relevant. In this case we might say that nobody in @ and now can utter it falsely and that seems right. But if you fix who you’re pointing at then we can’t get the result in the ‘She is French’ case. This is not the intuition I’m supposed to have. I would also like to report that I’m not inclined to say that ‘penguin’ ought to behave like ’she’. Of course it’s possible that I’m just missing the point, but it makes me wonder about the test a little.
I’ve been thinking about the following puzzle. Suppose Jane wakes up in the cockpit of a crashed plane in a jungle clearing in Borneo. A blow to the head has given her complete amnesia. It’s 18.55 on 1/2/08. She says ‘I am here now’. A story I think is plausible would tell us that she has said that Jane is in a particular jungle clearing at the relevant time. But she doesn’t believe that she is. That might seem fair enough, but it looks like it clashes with the equally plausible claim that, whenever S says that P, she believes that P.
I’m giving a little talk at St Andrews’ M Litt seminar on Thursday. Here is what I’m going to say. I’m planning to write a more detailed post after the dust has settled to record all the interesting comments and criticisms I’ll be getting.

