Robert May

It is a characteristically Fregean thesis that the sense expressed by an expression is the linguistic meaning of that expression. Sense can play this role for Frege since it meets fundamental desiderata for meaning, that it be universal and invariantly expressed and objectively the same for everyone who knows the language. It has been argued,1 however, that, as a general thesis about natural languages, the identi cation of sense and meaning cannot be sustained since it is in con ict with another characteristically Fregean thesis, that sense uniquely determines reference. The argument is quite simple and can be outlined as follows. Assume the two theses we have just stated.

Are Fregean thoughts compositionally complex and composed of senses? We argue that, in Begriffsschrift, Frege took 'conceptual contents' to be unstructured, but that he quickly moved away from this position, holding just two years later that conceptual contents divide of themselves into 'function' and 'argument'. This second position is shown to be unstable, however, by Frege's famous substitution puzzle. For Frege, the crucial question the puzzle raises is why "The Morning Star is a planet" and "The Evening Star is a planet" have different contents, but his second position predicts that they should have the same content. Frege's response to this antinomy is of course to distinguish sense from reference, but what has not previously been noticed is that this response also requires thoughts to be compositionally complex, composed of senses. That, however, raises the question just how thoughts are composed from senses. We reconstruct a Fregean answer, one that turns on an insistence that this question must be understood as semantic rather than metaphysical. It is not a question about the intrinsic nature of residents of the third realm but a question about how thoughts are expressed by sentences.

“Choose your words wisely,” my mother used to say, “because you never know who’s listening.” Oddly, this is something about which my dear mother and Mark Richard apparently would agree. They both seem to think that the words you use say something about who you are, and if you use bad words, then you are a bad person. About this, I have no doubt that they are right - those who use slurs, at least in the context of many assertive utterances, are surely racists, anti-Semites or whatever. But MR in his paper points out that matters go further than this, for our conversational interactions with slur words can show us to be of such dubious moral status even if we don’t utter them; just our normal practices of accepting the utterances of others would be sufficient for this result. But something is surely amiss here; no doubt we can know the meaning of slur-words, and so comprehend the utterances of others, without impugning our moral stature in any way.

As the history of analytic philosophy is written, Gottlob Frege sits among the pantheon, one of the core creators of a novel way of philosophical thinking. It is a way of thinking that is notably infused with logical and semantic insights that are original to Frege. The source of these insights is well known. They arise in the context of logicism, Frege’s mathematical project that unfolded in a body of thought punctuated by three seminal works, Begriffsschrift of 1879, Die Grundlagen der Arithmetik of 1884, and the two volumes of Grundgesetze der Arithmetik, published in 1893 and 1903. In these works, Frege sets out to show that arithmetic can be reduced to logic; more technically, that (a version of) the Peano-Dedekind axioms are derivable as theorems in a definitional extension of impredicative second-order logic. To achieve this goal, Frege introduced both a new logic and a new semantics; the conceptual apparatus that Frege brought to bear in these works, and in an accompanying series of classic essays, including most famously “On Sense and Reference,” has animated philosophical thought ever since

An investigation of what Frege means by his doctrine that functions (and so concepts) are 'unsaturated'. We argue that this doctrine is far less peculiar than it is usually taken to be. What makes it hard to understand, oddly enough, is the fact that it is so deeply embedded in our contemporary understanding of logic and language. To see this, we look at how it emerges out of Frege's confrontation with the Booleans and how it expresses a fundamental difference between Frege's approach to logic and theirs.

The LOGICAL FORM of a sentence (or utterance) is a formal representation of its logical structure; that is, of the structure which is relevant to specifying its logical role and properties. There are a number of (interrelated) reasons for giving a rendering of a sentence's logical form. Among them is to obtain proper inferences (which otherwise would not follow; cf. Russell's theory of descriptions), to give the proper form for the determination of truth-conditions (e.g. Tarski's method of truth and satisfaction as applied to quantification), to show those aspects of a sentence's meaning which follow from the logical role of certain terms (and not from the lexical meaning of words; cf. the truth-functional account of conjunction), and to formalize or regiment the language in order to show that it is has certain metalogical properties (e.g. that it is free of paradox, or that there is a sound proof procedure).

Over the years, I’ve been asked many times what “logical form” is, as applied to natural language. This is a natural enough question to address to me; after all, I’ve written a book titled Logical Form, and I’ve been asked to write any number of papers on the topic. This question, it seems to me, is certainly a “big” question, and big questions deserve big answers. I must admit, however, to being somewhat baffled as to how to do this satisfactorily, since big answers to big questions unfortunately tend to the trivial. With a nod to Wittgenstein, logical form has always seemed to me to be something that you know it when you see it; it is clear enough when it pops up, but one is hard pressed to say just what it is, to define it. This is so even though the meanings of the words “logical” and “form” seem straightforward enough; what I find puzzling is how the first word is supposed to modify the second. What is it that makes a form logical, as opposed to something else that is not logical? This, it seems to me, is a very hard question to answer indeed, for if we cannot contrast logical form with some other type of form, then every form (or no form) is a logical form, and we have arrived at the triviality previously mentioned.