Jaroslav Peregrin

Normativity is one of the keywords of contemporary philosophical discussions (which partly reincarnate traditional debates about the differences between Geisteswissenschaften and Naturwissenschaften ). But are the philosophers who argue for the irreducible role of normativity within accounts for human societies obliged to assume, as Stephen Turner has recently put it, the existence of a "non‐natural, non‐empirical stuff that is claimed to be necessarily, intrinsically there and to in some sense account for the actual"?

Metaphysics is usually understood as the investigation of being qua being and of its ultimate categories. Given this characterization, it may be hard to grasp why anyone might wish to oppose metaphysics, why anyone might claim that metaphysics ”leads the philosopher into complete darkness” (Wittgenstein, 1958, p.18)? What could be so misleading about the investigation of the most abstract vestiges of being? One source of disparagement towards metaphysics, of course, stems from the relativist conviction that there is no absolute being, and hence nor are there any ultimate categories of being. Another ‘reason’ for some philosophers of this century (notably Carnap) to reject metaphysics appeared to consist in their reinterpretation of the word ”metaphysics”, in effect, simply as ”nonsensical philosophy”. However neither of these reasons seems to be the Wittgensteinian one. The way I propose to envisage this reason takes us back to Plato with his distinction between Being and Becoming (echoed, in one or another form, within the conceptions of so many subsequent philosophers). It is the distinction between the ‘higher’ realm of ideas with its crisp, eternal truths, and the ‘lower’ realm of appearances in which anything appears only as a fuzzy and transient reflection of something from the higher realm. The original message harbored in this Platonistic picture is clearly that the vast and hardly graspable flux of appearances shelters something firm and invariable, something potentially fully capturable by human reason which can then use it as a prism to comprehend and understand the everchanging phenomena. However, as I will claim, the picture of a ‘higher’ reality behind phenomena is dangerous in that it can delude a philosopher into feeling that he can solve empirical questions by a quasiempirical investigation of a non-empirical realm: a ‘metaphysical reality’.

For many centuries, a predominant view of meaning was that the meaning of a word is some kind of chunk of mind-stuff (“idea”) glued to the word and animating it. However, while the traditional view was that we must first understand meaning, which enables us to understand language and hence our linguistic practices, a new approach to semantics that has emerged in the second half of the twentieth century, and which I see as marking the future of meaning, suggests that it is our linguistic practices on which we must concentrate from the beginning. In this paper I suggest a specific understanding of these practices, yielding the conclusion that meanings are reasonably seen as creatures of our activity of setting up certain systems of rules, thus opening up new kinds of virtual spaces which we can “enter”. Meaning is what emerges within the intricately orchestrated space that we have somehow managed to bring into being by means of accepting the rules which are in charge of our language games, especially the game of giving and asking for reasons

Within human communities, the phenomenon of rules is ubiquitous. We have the allimportant rules that are codified by our law; we have rules that are not authoritatively written down, but are usually followed (like the rule that if somebody helps me, I should be prepared to help him in turn); we have traffic rules; and the rules of various games and sports. Yet, from the scientific viewpoint, rules are not easy to account for. How is their emergence to be explained (in a way compatible with evolution), and how is their existence to be construed, especially in cases when they are not written down? Are we to consider a rule as primarily a linguistic object; or are we to reduce it to some regularity of behavior? Neither of these two forms of existence holds much allure. Firstly, insofar as some rules clearly exist without being recorded, there is no linguistic object with which they can be identified. (After all, we talk about the encoding of the law, which seems to suggest that the law articulates something existing independently of the code.) And secondly, reducing the existence of a rule to a plain regularity of behavior would extinguish any distinction between billiard balls 'following the rules' of mechanics and human subjects following the rules of their society. Hence it would seem that, though there must be more to rules than regularities, at least some rules must be capable of existing exclusively 'within' human conduct – being, as Willfrid Sellars (1949, 299) put it, written "in flesh and blood, or nerve and sinew, rather than in pen and ink".

In a memorable paper, Donald Davidson (1986, p. 446) insists that "there is no such thing as a language, not if a language is anything like what many philosophers and linguists have supposed". I have always taken this as an exaggeration, albeit an apt exaggeration that might be philosophically helpful. Now when it comes to predication, what I would have expected to hear from the same author would be along the lines of "there is no such thing as predication ... ". But instead of this I hear something very different (Davidson, 2005, p. 77): [I]f we do not understand predication, we do not understand how any sentence works, nor can we account for the structure of the simplest thought that is expressible in language. At one time there was much discussion of what was called the "unity of proposition"; it is just this unity that a theory of predication must explain. The philosophy of language lacks its most important chapter without such a theory, the philosophy of mind is missing its crucial first step if it cannot describe the nature of judgment; and it is woeful if metaphysics cannot say how a substance is related to its attributes. I find myself at odds with just about everything written in this paragraph; and what is worse, my disagreement stems from a notion of language which I believe I have acquired also by reading Davidson. Reading this passage, I desperately sought for an indication that it was leading up to some catch, and not meant to be taken at face value. But, alas, I am afraid there is none. To avoid misunderstanding: I see nothing wrong in understanding predication as a clearly delimited linguistic phenomenon. We put together one kind of expression, which we have come to call the subject, with a different kind of expression, called the predicate, possibly..

Logic, it is often held, is primarily concerned with reasoning; and the conviction that logic and reasoning are two sides of the same coin nowadays usually equates with the conviction that logic spells out some directives for the "right" management of beliefs. In this paper I put forward an alternative view, based on seeing rules of logic rules as constitutive rules, not instructing us how to reason, but rather providing us with certain vehicles or in terms of which to reason. This also emphasizes the social nature of beliefs: they are entities forged in a social mold, formed by rules originating from social argumentative practices

Ve své knížce Fenomenologie a kultura slepé skvrny předkládá Ivan Blecha tři eseje, jejichž společným jmenovatelem je konfrontace různých aspektů postmodernistické filosofie s filosofií fenomenologickou. Proti obratu k jazyku a z něj často vyvozovaného pluralismu nebo dokonce relativismu staví Blecha tezi, že svět, ve kterém člověk žije, je determinován způsobem, kterým v kadlubu své intencionální mysli konstituuje věci ze svého bezprostředního prožívání, a že tudíž tento svět není v žádném podstatném slova smyslu ani tvarován jazykem, ani otevřen žádným velkým pluralistickým variacím. V prvním textu, ‘Znak, stopa, fenomén’ se Blecha zamýšlí především nad tím, co nazývá lingvistickou klauzurou (a co je podle něj přesvědčením společným francouzským poststrukturalistům kolem Derridy i americkým postanalytickým filosofům kolem Rortyho), totiž že člověk nemá bezprostřední přístup ke světu, ale jedině k jazyku, takže veškeré poznávání je jenom interpretace. Ve druhém, ‘Kant, pragmatický anti-realismus a Husserlova fenomenologie’ se zabývá tím, do jaké míry je opodstatněné relativistické domýšlení Kanta. V posledním, který je nazván tak jako celá knížka, pak polemizuje především s názory Wolfganga Welsche, které ústí do cílevědomého epistemického pluralismu. Myslím, že ty nejzákladnější otázky, které Blecha ve své knize klade, totiž otázka po nutnosti a mezích plurality a po tom, do jaké míry je nám chápání světa zprostředkováváno jazykem, jsou velice důležité a také velice zajímavé. Blecha se s nimi navíc snaží vypořádat, aniž by se obrnil hantýrkou, která by jeho obranu fenomenologie učinila srozumitelnou zase jenom pro fenomenology; a jeho kniha tím představuje výzvu k zajímavé diskusi. Do filosofů na druhé straně barikády se pouští s odkrytým hledím, a i když je, jak se budu snažit ukázat, sem tam v něčem dezinterpretuje, je jeho kniha ukázku toho, jak by se podle mne s konkurenčními filosofickými směry polemizovat mělo. Co se mi jeví jako dezinterpretace, se objevuje hned na počátku prvního eseje..

Today, a steadily growing number of philosophers regard Wilfrid Sellars as a principal pillar not just of American analytic philosophy, but of twentieth century philosophy in general. But not so long ago, things were different: though Sellars has held the acclaim of a first-rate philosopher for a couple of decades, it is only recently that he has achieved the nimbus of a philosopher whom you must read. It is largely due to his outstanding disciples and followers, from Paul Churchland and Ruth Millikan to Richard Rorty, Jay Rosenberg and Robert Brandom. In many respects, Wilfrid Sellars is a philosopher who somehow eludes the context of his contemporaries. In comparison with brilliant essayists such as Quine or Rorty, he writes in an old fashioned, slightly convoluted style, which is liable to confuse an unprepaired reader. Surrounded by philosophers who see philosophy as shrinking to a residual enterprise, such as merely the logical analysis of language, he does not shy away from claiming that "the aim of philosophy is to understand how things in the broadest possible sense of the term hang together in the broadest possible sense of the term". In contrast to the extreme specialists for whom even logical analysis is a theme too broad to entertain, his strategy is, in deVries' words, "to approach philosophical problems not as independent, individual cases, in principle amenable to piecemeal treatment, but as always constituted within a larger context and requiring not resolution by the establishment of some particular thesis, but the development of a more insightful or more adequate model that permits us to see how the particular phenomenon or puzzle fits within a larger, coherent whole". For all these reasons, it is highly challenging to grasp the bulk of Sellars’ teaching. It cannot be mastered piecemeal because its faraway components often mutually underpin each other in a way that is bound to escape his novice readers.

Summary. I do not think there is one true answer to the question What is logic?. There are, clearly, good and less good answers, and there are answers which are plainly wrong; but the term 'logic' has been employed, throughout the history of the subject matter, in such diverse ways that no single one of the uses can be said to be the correct one. However, even among the answers which are acceptable on historico-semantical grounds there are still, without doubt, good and less good ones, in the sense of more and less useful. In this paper, I will argue for a certain, rather narrow conception of logic; and I am going to argue that it is not only an acceptable answer, but also one which is more useful and fruitful than its alternatives

It is a trivial fact that if we have a square table filled with numbers, we can always form a column which is not yet contained in the table. Despite its apparent triviality, this fact underlies the foundations of most of the path-breaking results of logic in the second half of the nineteenth and the first half of the twentieth century. We explain how this fact can be used to show that there are more sequences of natural numbers than there are natural numbers, that there are more real numbers than natural numbers and that every set has more subsets than elements (all results due to Cantor); we indicate how this fact can be seen as underlying the celebrated Russell paradox; and we show how it can be employed to expose the most fundamental result of mathematical logic of the twentieth century, Gödel's incompleteness theorem. Finally, we show how this fact yields the unsolvability of the halting problem for Turing machines

While the traditional view was that in order to understand language and our linguistic practices we must explain meaning, the 'pragmatic turn' emerging within the writings of various philosohpers of the second half of the twentieth century caused a basic change of the perspective: the tendency is to concentrate directly on explaining the linguistic practices and leave the need for explaining meaning to emerge (or, as the case may be, not to emerge) subsequently. I argue that after this turn we should explain the peculiar kinds of 'meaningfulness' that characterizes our expressions in terms of what Sellars called "pattern governed behavior". Furthermore, I argue that the turn should not make us discard meanings, but only to reappraise them: to see them as the roles of expressions vis-à-vis the rules that govern our language games.