It has been about 20 years since Austin offered to teach us some simple ways of talking. In view of the attention paid the balance of the Austin corpus, this offer has been greeted with a surprising silence. There are, perhaps, some reasons for this lack of response. First, of course, the article is a difficult one, tortuous and opaque. Second, I suspect that there is a general, though tacit, consensus that any insights of value in “How To Talk” have been absorbed or transcended (aufgehoben) by the later theorizing on speech acts incorporated in How To Do Things With Words. Nevertheless, I am convinced that it is worth working through “How To Talk” if only to reveal the major internal inconsistency which it contains. Mistakes made by important philosophers are likely to be important mistakes. In addition, sorting through the ontology and epistemologies of Austin's analyses of asserting will equip us with some worthwhile distinctions which, while not Austin's, may help us unravel the multiplicity of linguistic performances with which he confronts us.

Recently a number of philosophers (e.g. Feyerabend and Kuhn) have maintained that the meanings of terms in a scientific language are “theory-laden” or determined by the theory in which they occur, and thus that if the same term (e.g.; ‘mass’) occurs in different theories, it will take on different meanings in the different theories; so the theories are incommensurable. An often-stated corollary to this doctrine is the claim that possessors of different theories cannot express or possess the same facts since they attach different meanings to the terms used to give expression to the facts. Various attacks against this extreme doctrine on the relativity of facts have been mounted. Some of them consist in showing defective the argument advanced in support of this doctrine; but such criticisms at best show that the defenses offered for the doctrine are defective, not that the doctrine itself is defective.

Crucial to Peter Achinstein's philosophy of science, as presented in Concepts of Science, is the concept of semantic relevance. First, the concept of semantic relevance is central to his analysis of definition and it is presupposed both in his analysis of the concepts of theory and model and in his critique of alternative analyses. Secondly, Achinstein's way of doing philosophy of science rests heavily on his analysis of semantic relevance. Philosophical analysis for Achinstein seems primarily to consist in specifying the use of certain terms. As we shall see, use and semantic relevance are, according to Achinstein, closely connected.

Yet, despite the centrality of this concept in Achinstein's philosophy, I will argue that the concept has serious philosophical problems and that the use Achinstein makes of the concept is dubious. First, I will argue that the notion of semantic relevance inherits some of the traditional problems of analyticity as well as having problems of its own. In particular, I will show that given Achinstein's construal of semantic relevance it is extremely difficult if not impossible to determine the semantic relevance of a term. Secondly, I will maintain that given these problems, Achinstein is not in any way justified in using the notion of semantic relevance in his criticism of other philosophers' views and in the construction of his own.

The object here is to develop a moral argument against theism. By “theism” is meant the worship of a (supposed) omnipotent, all righteous God. An attitude of worship, it may be assumed, would not be an attitude of worship if it did not preclude all doubt as to the worthiness of the object of worship. At any rate, it is only this attitude whose castigation as immoral is meant to be argued for here.

There are, of course, as many theisms as there are theistic religions, sects, cults, denominations et cetera. let M be the moral code of one such theism. It is immaterial here whether the moral code M is or is not dogmatically spelled out in the theistic religion in question. The present argument will follow equally well if the believers claim nothing more than an imperfect, incomplete, and uncertain knowledge of M.

There is a widely held view that the expressions ‘necessary truth’, ‘a priori truth’ and ‘analytic truth’ either express the same concept or, at least, refer to all and only the same items. Philosophers who hold this view, and who are sometimes described as ‘empiricists’, often draw the conclusion that the truths of logic and mathematics, if necessary, are also a priori and are, in some important sense, empty or not about the world. The subject matter of these disciplines, then, is said to differ in a philosophically important way from that of the empirical sciences, such as physics or chemistry. Rationalists, in contrast, have traditionally held that some a priori truths, either of logic or mathematics (or of some other area), are synthetic and, hence, non-analytic: i.e., there are synthetic a priori truths.

Since its inception, roughly sixteen years ago, the theory of the contingent identity of mental-states and brain-states has been argued on many fronts. I want here to examine and to try to meet one in particular of the objections raised in connection with this theory. The objection has been stated with especial force by Peter Herbst.

‘Mental processes are brain processes’ is not a logically necessary truth, but nevertheless certain logical conditions must be fulfilled if it is to be a candidate for the role of contingent truth. Not just anything can, conceivably, be contingently identical with anything else: a play cannot be identical with its copies, nor beauty with a beautiful object. The propagation of light may be electromagnetic radiation, but it cannot conceivably be the tri-section of a right-angle. In this paper I shall be concerned with the general question of whether there are any logical barriers to mind-body identification, and I shall approach this via the more particular question of whether the mental processes of persons can conceivably be identical with the physiological processes of brains. It is my contention that identity theorists, by concentrating their attentions upon what were once called the “lower” parts of the soul rather than upon “higher” parts which are more typical of human persons, have paved a logical way for themselves which is artificially straight.

Philosophers commonly distinguish emotions from other feelings. For example, Anthony Kenny distinguishes emotions from both sensations and perceptions. Perceptions are connected with a specific organ or part of the body and sensations such as hunger or thirst are sometimes characteristically located in parts of the body. Emotions, however, are neither connected with organs nor characteristically felt in specific parts of the body (pp. 57–58). Kenny rightly points out that emotions and sensations are alike in one important respect, namely they are both linked to characteristic forms of expression. He then says “ … the existence of characteristic expre5sions of emotion itself provides a further link between emotion and sensations: for the expression characteristic of each emotion—e.g., weeping—is itself felt, and this feeling is a genuine sensation” (p. 59).

In Mental Acts Professor Peter Geach asserts that “‘The same’ is a fragmentary expression, and has no significance unless we say or mean ‘the same X’, where ‘X’ represents a general term … ” In Reference and Generality Geach interjects the following note: “I maintain that it makes no sense to judge whether x and y are ‘the same’, or whether x remains ‘the same’, unless we add or understand some general term ‘the same F’.” Here, as in Mental Acts, he goes on to say that not any general term will serve to complete ‘the same’ constructions; only substantival terms will suffice for this purpose. Finally, in his article, “ldentity,” Geach asserts that “When one says ‘x is identical with y’, this … is an incomplete expression; it is short for ‘x is the same A as y’, where ‘A’ represents some count noun understood from the context of utterance—or else, it is just a vague expression of a half-formed thought.” (We should not, incidently, conclude from this last remark that Geach thinks all and only count nouns are substantival terms.

I want to attempt to analyze a forgotten area in the philosophy of emotions, the relations between physiological changes and the emotions. I want to do this:

• (1) by first of all briefly setting out some distinctions necessary to the understanding of the position I will be arguing for,

• (2) then by trying to elucidate what exactly is to be understood by the term ‘physiological change’ in the context of an emotion,

• (3) by showing that particular physiological changes are not part of the concept of any particular emotion and are only linked causally to the cognitive-appetitive part of an occurrent emotional state (the description of which part, forms the concept of that particular emotion),

• (4) by showing, however, that the notion of a physiological change is part of the concept of an emotional state,

• (5) and, finally, by drawing out some consequences of this analysis.

Over the past decade numerous philosophers have devoted considerable effort to explicating and defending the claim that narrative can be a satisfactory form of explanation. Much of this interest in narrative has taken the form of a reaction against the covering-law model of explanation-particularly against the claim that that model is applicable to history and to what W. B. Gallie has called “the genetic sciences.” What has been lacking from most of this discussion of narrative is any very clear indication of just what narrative is or any extended attempt to delineate its logical features. The philosophical yield of introducing the concept “narrative” into discussions of explanation has frequently appeared to be very small.

In a recent paper Michael Ruse has argued that the logical structure of explanations relating to the theory of evolution can be examined more helpfully by using the covering-law model than by using a narrative model of explanation.

What makes one event have more historical importance than another event? Why, for example, do historians consider Caesar's decision to cross the Rubicon more important than Caesar's decision to shave in the morning? In this example, the answer should be obvious. The contrast is between a decision of great consequence and a decision of little consequence. Perhaps we can generalize from the example to say that the ranking of events with respect to their historical importance is a function of the magnitude of their respective consequences.

W. H. Dray holds that in some cases historical importance is determined by factors other than the size of consequences. For example, events may be important because of what they anticipate or what they reveal.

Under the title of ‘the axiom of existence’, hereafter (AE), John R. Searle has reduced to compact dictum a view to which many philosophers subscribe:

(AE) ‘Whatever is referred to must exist’.

(A less equivocal, though inelegant formulation would be: ‘It is necessary that whatever is referred to exist at some time or other’.) In this paper I shall offer two major arguments against adopting (AE), at least on certain assumptions. There have been a number of defenses of (AE), among them those arguing that it is fundamental to any systematic philosophy of language or logic. With the exception of discussing some of Searle's remarks in part Ill of this paper I shall not comment on any of these defenses.

This note is prompted by a re-reading of the late Professor J. L. Austin's British Academy Lecture of 1956 “Ifs and Cans” and Professor P. H. Nowell-Smith's rejoinder to it. Austin states his topic at the beginning, and though he re-formulates it more precisely later on, it will suffice for my purposes to quote the opening short paragraph. He asks: “Are cans constitutionally iffy? Whenever, that is, we say that we can do something, or could do something, or could have done something, is there an if in the offing—suppressed, it may be, but due nevertheless to appear when we set out our sentence in full or when we give an explanation of its meaning?” (p. 295). Towards the end of his lecture he states his conclusion concerning the issue, viz. determinism, which is usually prominent at least implicitly in our discussion of such questions, in the following terms: “Determinism, whatever it may be, may yet be the case, but at least it appears not consistent with what we ordinarily say and presumably think.” (p. 321, italics mine).

In “Quine on Meaning and Existence, I,” Gilbert Harman makes the following exegetical claim about Quine's attitude towards the postulation of propositions:

Along with the rest of his Critique de Ia Raison Dialectique, which it introduces, the “Question de Méthode” (widely read by English-speaking students of Marx as Search for a Method) takes an important place in the development of Jean-Paul Sartre's philosophical and political thought. However, the Search is also a challenge to Marxists either to defend or abandon certain of their views, and as such I think it raises some crucial issues. It is the purpose of this essay not to produce a systematic critique of Sartre's influential work, but rather to explore and sharpen some principles of the methodology of historical materialism by critically examining a selection of interrelated misconceptions about Marxism exhibited in the Search and shared by many friends as well as foes of the historical materialist approach to the study of human society.

• A. (1) Either God can create a stone which He cannot lift, or He cannot create a stone which He cannot lift.

• (2) If God can create a stone which He cannot lift, then He is not omnipotent (since He cannot lift the stone in question).

• (3) If God cannot create a stone which He cannot lift, then He is not omnipotent (since He cannot create the stone in question).

• (4) Therefore, God is not omnipotent.

In a paper published in Analysis I tried to show (a) that any attempt to find something wrong with all arguments of the general form of A above, any attempt to resolve the “paradox,” must fail, (b) that the reason these attempts must fail is that at least some arguments of this form are essentially sound, and (c) that the only thing which makes these arguments seem paradoxical, their conclusion to the effect that God is not omnipotent, is, like at least some versions of the arguments to this conclusion, quite correct.

Perhaps no doctrine in our intellectual history has received more attention—critical, puzzled and celebrative—than that of “economic determinism”. To adequately catalogue the literature on Karl Marx’s epoch-making theory would require, no doubt, a considerable tome.

I am not, therefore, going to attempt such a task here, illuminating though it might be as a study in the history and sociology of ideas. Rather I am going to outline an interpretation which will—if I am successful—be both faithful to Marx’s texts and immune to the standard philosophical criticisms which have been hitherto advanced against the theory (e.g., that it is intolerably imprecise, that it is indefensibly monocausal, that it is refuted by historical fact, that it is committed to logically improper prediction, that it is incompatible with ethical and personal responsibility, etc.).

A main thrust of much of Quine's work is that meaning, belief, desire, motive and other so-called “intentional phenomena” are under-determined by all possible evidence: the totality of possible evidence could not determine whether two persons meant, believed, desired, or had as motives the same thing. One way to identify a person's beliefs, desires and motives is to frame a theory of his meanings, for then we could ask him what he believed and desired; this will be a theory of translation for his language. But such a theory of meaning, according to Quine, is also not uniquely determined by all the evidence. Thus

Wittgenstein expounds his notion of a family resemblance in two important passages. The first is from The Blue Book: