Empty Names, Natural Kind Terms, and Radical Externalism
Frederick Adams
Laura Dietrich
I Introduction
There are many different names and kind terms. Those that have
bearers are filled names—names such as “Bill Clinton” or “George W. Bush,”
“water,” “salt.” Those that lack bearers are empty names—names such
as “Santa”, “Vulcan,” or “phlogiston,” or “ghost.” For direct reference
theorists and radical externalists about kind terms, sentences employing
filled names express propositions into which are inserted the objects or
properties named. For example, the sentence “Clinton was impeached”
expresses the proposition identified by the ordered pair <Clinton, impeachment>.
Although there are many descriptions associated with Clinton, such as,
“first president in the 21st Century,” “last president to be impeached
by the House of Representatives,” and so on, none of these are part of
the content of the proposition expressed solely by the name “Clinton.”
According to theories of direct reference, names contribute only their
bearers to propositions expressed by their use.
What propositions are expressed by “Pegasus flies,” “Vulcan is
the tenth planet,” or “phlogiston is released during burning.” Empty
names or kind terms cannot contribute their bearers to propositions expressed
by these sentences. So what is the content of the sentences, and
what are the meanings of the empty names or kind terms? One answer
available to radical externalists and theorists of direct reference is
that empty names or kind terms lack meaning and propositions expressed
by their use are incomplete or gappy. So, for example, “Pegasus
flies” expresses the incomplete proposition identified by <___, flies>,
and “phlogiston is released” expresses <___, being released>.
These structured entities are incomplete propositions. They have
slots for things designated by subjects and predicates, but whether a slot
is filled depends upon whether the name is filled or empty. Furthermore,
since the propositions are incomplete (or gappy), they are neither true
nor false. Consequently, on this view what is expressed by “Pegasus
flies” or by “phlogiston is released during burning” are neither true nor
false. More controversially, the content of “Pegasus does not exist”
is neither true nor false—and so on for other negative existential sentences
employing empty names or kind terms.
This consequence is highly counterintuitive, we realize.
Yet theories of radical externalism and direct reference have mechanisms
to account for the contrary intuitions. On the view that
we accept all names and kind terms (empty or filled) have associated with
them various descriptions. None of these descriptions give the meanings
of the names or kind terms. Nonetheless, the descriptions become
associated with names by learning. These psychological associations
can explain why names and kind terms (empty or filled) can seem to have
meanings other than their bearers. So for example, every U.S.
schoolchild learns that George Washington chopped down a cherry tree and
confessed and later became the first president of the U.S. So we
are pretty much conditioned (stimulus-response style) to connect “confessed
to chopping down a cherry tree” and “first president of the U.S.” with
“George Washington.” Indeed, associated with all names there will
be sets of descriptions (that we will call the lore ) that are associated
with the name.
There is lore associated with empty kind terms as well.
Associated with “phlogiston” are the descriptions “term introduced by George
Stahl,” and “substance formerly believed to be released during burning.”
When we utter “phlogiston is released,” although we literally express the
incomplete proposition <___, being released>, we pragmatically imply
complete propositions that would be expressed by taking a description associated
with the name and substituting. So, for example, we pragmatically
imply that a substance believed by Stahl to be responsible for burning
is released. And if we utter “phlogiston does not exist,” we pragmatically
imply that there is no substance named by Stahl released during burning.
We claim that this latter implied proposition is complete, true, and its
truth misleadingly inclines us to think that a sentence such as “phlogiston
does not exist” says something true.
If we are right, there are at least two mechanisms at work: learned
associations and pragmatic (as opposed to semantic) implications.
And there are at least two potentially misleading outcomes due to these.
First, one may come to think that one or more of the descriptions (“substance
released by burning”) gives the meaning of a kind term (“phlogiston”),
when the term has no meaning. Second, one may come to think that
one can express a truth using a vacuous term (“phlogiston does not exist”),
whereas one at best pragmatically implicates a truth (that there is no
substance named by Stahl).
We are attracted to this theory for several reasons. First,
it offers a unified account of the meanings of names and kind terms.
It says that in all cases, the meaning of a name on an occasion of use
is its bearer. Mixed accounts could say that the meaning of a filled
name is its bearer, but the meaning of an empty name is a description.
We are inclined to think that it would be preferable to say that names
make the same type of contribution to what is expressed whether filled
or empty. Our account lets us say this. We believe that one
should move to the mixed account only if a unified account fails.
Part of our goal in this paper is to show that a unified account succeeds
against several recent objections. Second, the account applies to
fictional names as well as non-fictional names (Adams, et.al. 1997).
Once again, one may propose a mixed view where the meanings of non-fictional
names are their bearers and the meanings of fictional names are descriptions
or characters, or some other entities. We continue to believe that
one should move to such a mixed view only if the unified view fails, and
we will defend the unified view here. We will now consider objections
to this radical externalism that we have just outlined and its treatment
of empty names and kind terms.
II Slim Support for Narrow Content
In his recent book, Gabriel Segal (2000) argues against externalists’
accounts of cognitive content and for a kind of narrow, individualistic
content. Segal defends a kind of content on which “being in a state
with a specific cognitive content does not essentially involve standing
in any real relation to anything external” (11). And he defends a
local supervenience thesis on which “ if two beings are identical in respect
of their microstructural properties, then they must be identical in respect
of their cognitive contents” (14). Contrary to many narrow content
theorists, he holds that narrow content is a variety of ordinary representation.
For example, in a Twin-Earth scenario where Zowie’s “diamond” concept
was formed on diamonds and Twin-Zowie’s “diamond” concept was formed on
Twin-diamonds, Segal’s “view is that both Zowies’ diamond concepts apply
to both diamonds and twin diamonds” (19). If true, it seems to us
that both Zowies have garden-variety broad, disjunctive content—not narrow
cognitive content. There is nothing narrow about concepts of diamonds
(or Twin-diamonds). So we have a hard time distinguishing Segal’s
narrow content from what the tradition would call broad, disjunctive content.
We will not dwell on his positive account of narrow content here.
This is in part because he claims not to have a theory of content to offer
(20), and in part because he says his “basic strategy is to undermine …the
most popular and influential externalist theses and show that an internalist
alternative is workable and attractive” (20). We focus our attention
on his arguments against externalism. We believe his main argument
against externalism is easily met. If we are right that Segal’s negative
argument against externalism is easily met, then his strategy of arguing
indirectly for narrow content by exposing difficulties with broad content
turns out to offer slim support indeed for narrow content.
III Empty Natural Kind Terms and Concepts
Segal aims his attack at what he calls “the radical externalist
position” as applied to natural kind terms and concepts. This is
the view that there is a world dependence of kind concepts upon their extensions.
In particular, the extension conditions of non-empty kind concepts depend
upon a “real relationship between thinkers and samples” in the external
world. A thinker of kind K must have interacted with samples of kind
K (or with someone who has). In addition, this extension condition
is essential to the cognitive content of the concept of kind K. So
if concept of kind K is world-dependent, then any concept that has a different
extension condition than K has a different cognitive content from K.
This is intended to characterize atomic concepts whose content does not
decompose into contents of parts (31). Segal argues indirectly for
kind concepts that have extension-independent cognitive content, by arguing:
(1) that radical externalism cannot account for the existence of empty
kind terms and concepts, and (2) that radical externalism cannot account
for the sameness of intentional behavior of Twin-Earth twins, one of whom
has an empty concept. We intend to show how radical externalism
can account for the existence of empty kind terms and concepts and as much
sameness of intentional behavior as there is.
IV Segal’s Argument Sketch
Empty terms and concepts are the test case for the dispute between
externalists and internalists about content. Prior to Segal, Boghossian
(1997) used his “Dry Earth” example to make a similar challenge to externalism—we
discuss Boghossian’s arguments below. And there have been other such
attacks as well. Similarly, empty names have been viewed as the test
case for direct reference theories of proper names for many years .
So it is correct for Segal to look to empty kind terms and concepts as
the front line in his attack on radical externalism.
Segal presents the externalists with a dilemma in accounting
for the mere existence of empty kind terms and concepts. He asks
what would happen to the meanings of kind terms and the concepts they express
if the terms were vacuous. He asks us to imagine Twin-Earth scenarios
where terms such as “water,” “aluminum,” “topaz,” “quark,” and “polio”
are empty on Twin-Earth but not empty on Earth. Following Boghossian
(1997) we can imagine that those on Twin-Earth do not know that the terms
are empty (vacuous). They may be systematically deluded or deceived
or just mistaken about whether such terms refer.
Segal maintains that the radical externalist must say either:
(a) that such terms express no concept or (b) they express a concept “different
form the one they actually express” (31). We take the latter
to be impossible, but what Segal may be saying is that they express a concept
different from the one supposed by the user (thinker).
Here is a parallel with empty names. We would take
Segal to maintain that for the externalist, “Santa Claus” either (a) has
no content or (b) if it does express a content, it expresses a content
other than that supposed by the speaker. For example, “Santa lives
at the North Pole” either expresses that “___ lives at the North Pole”
or imparts but does not express that there is a jolly fat man who wears
a red suit and brings presents on Christmas Eve and who lives at the North
Pole. In the first case, “Santa Claus” semantically expresses no
content, though there is content expressed by the remainder of the sentence.
In the second case, the use of “Santa Claus” pragmatically imparts something,
but does not express semantically what one would have expected, viz. that
Santa Claus lives at the North Pole. We will say more about
this parallel as we go. For we maintain that it provides the key
to understanding empty natural kind terms and concepts.
V (i) No Content
Let’s start with the “no content” horn of the supposed dilemma for
externalists. Segal believes that the very existence of empty kind
terms and concepts should be something of an embarrassment for externalists.
This we deny. We agree with Segal that empty kind terms exist.
Many kinds of empty names exist. Kind terms are a kind of name (in
so far as they are a type of linguistic entity). Semantically they
are empty. Syntactically, they may play the role of a common noun.
So there are indeed linguistic entities that play the role of natural kind
terms and are intended by their users to refer to natural kinds (without
success).
Why say, as Segal does, that maintaining that empty natural kind
terms have no content is “courageous?” We suspect that it is because,
for referentialists and externalists generally, there are going to be counter-intuitive
results. Such contrary intuitions have to be explained away.
We see this with direct reference theories and empty proper names no less
than with externalism and empty natural kind terms. So we maintain
that, at bottom, Segal is exploiting the counterintuitiveness of externalism
when he says “there are numerous empty kind terms that we must take to
express concepts…they are pervasive and significant features of human cognition”
(33).
Here is an example of a corresponding counterintuitive result
from empty proper names and direct reference theories of them. Suppose
one maintained that the very existence of empty names, such as “Vulcan,”
“Santa,” “Sherlock Holmes,” is an embarrassment for theories of direct
reference. On such theories, one may hold that “Vulcan does
not exist” does not express a truth because “Vulcan” is an empty name.
As such, it contributes no object to a proposition. So when one employs
a vacuous proper name in this negative existential sentence there is at
most an incomplete proposition expressed of the form: there is not an x
such that x = ___ (where one cannot fill the blank). Hence, there
is no truth (or falsehood) expressed using the term “Vulcan.” This
surely is counterintuitive and has led philosophers to say that such cases
spell doom for theories of direct reference. However, theories of
direct reference explain away the recalcitrant intuition. They explain
it away by pointing to the lore (character, stereotype) associated with
the term Vulcan consisting of descriptions such as “the tenth planet,”
“the planet between Mercury and the sun,” “a planet causing perturbations
in Mercury’s orbit.” When one says “Vulcan does not exist” one literally
expresses no truth, but one pragmatically imparts an associated proposition
such as “that there is no tenth planet.” The associated description,
though not what is literally semantically expressed, is an imparted truth.
It is the truth of the pragmatically imparted information that explains
a hearer’s (or speaker’s) taking a truth to have been uttered.
Hence, one is able to explain away the counterintuitiveness of the theory,
and one is able to resist temptation to posit some extension-independent
content for the term “Vulcan.”
V (ii) Content Other than Expressed
Returning to natural kind terms and the other horn of the dilemma,
we suggest a parallel account that explains away the counterintuitiveness
of maintaining that empty kind terms semantically express no content.
Lore (character, stereotype) associated with the kind terms will have content
and may be pragmatically expressed or accessed when employing empty kind
terms. Any cognitive content that appears to emanate from the empty
kind term actually has its source in the associated terms and descriptions.
We will now turn our attention to some of Segal’s examples and explain
how the “no content” ((a) above) view works. At the same time, we
will explain how this incorporates the view that a different kind of content
other than what was expressed is the content that is imparted ((b) above).
V (iii) Examples
Bekong
At one point Segal introduces an empty kind term “bekong.” This
term derives from a group known as the Fang (a people who live mainly in
Gabon and Cameroon). The Fang believe bekong to be a type of ghost
entity from which people can directly receive inspiration or messages and
who can cause people illness or misfortune. They believe the bekong
to be the ghosts of their ancestors.
Segal maintains that it is not an option to doubt that the Fang
have a concept in the concept bekong (even if empty). The concept
plays an important role in the thoughts and behavior of the Fang.
We maintain that the Fang’s term bekong is itself empty (on the
assumption that there are no ghosts in Gabon and Cameroon). And since
the term is empty, there is literally no semantic content expressed in
speech or thought involving this term. We suspect that Segal would
ask “how can you deny that the Fang have a concept bekong?” There
is a syntactic structure in their heads and it is causing thoughts and
behavior, so how can you deny that they have a concept?
Our reply is that they have a syntactic structure or name in
thought and speech. This name is playing a syntactic role.
But since it lacks a referent, it literally has no content itself.
However, it does play a causal role in the speech and behavior of the Fang,
and the role it plays is explained by the cognitive content of the associated
descriptions and lore (character, stereotype). Since the associated
descriptions have normal broad content, there is no difficulty explaining
the role played by the empty bekong concept in terms of the non-empty content
of the associated concepts and meanings.
Segal’s description of the ways the Fang think of bekong is underdescribed,
but we will provide some plausible elaboration. Here are some reasonable
guesses. The Fang likely believe the bekong “are the sources of the
voices they hear in their dreams.” They likely believe the bekong
“are the causes of the premature deaths of their infants.” Perhaps
they also believe the bekong “are invisible causes of disease, plague,
and famine.” So there are many descriptions that Fang associate with
the term “bekong.”
On a referentialist/externalist account of the meanings of names
or natural kind terms these associated descriptions (lore, character, stereotype)
do not constitute the meaning of a term for the usual Kripkean (Kripke,
1972) reasons. But these descriptions can constitute the only contents
associated with the empty terms. So when a Fang utters a sentence
such as “the bekong are angry,” the utterance literally expresses an incomplete
proposition identified by the set consisting of a null subject and the
property of being angry < ___, being angry>. The sentence is neither
true nor false. And if an anthropologist studying the bekong utters
“bekong don’t exist,” the anthropologist utters an incomplete proposition
of the form that there is not an x such that x = ___ (where one cannot
fill the blank). The incomplete proposition is expressed using
the term ‘bekong.’ This utterance too is neither true nor false.
To explain the apparent truth of the negative existential sentence,
we appeal to the information pragmatically imparted (but not literally
expressed). Imparted is information to the effect that there are
not invisible beings who speak directly to the Fang in their dreams.
Or that there are not invisible conscious entities who cause disease, plague,
and famine. And so on. Any apparent content expressed using
the empty term “bekong” is accounted for by appeal to the content of the
associated descriptions (lore, character, stereotype).
This accounts for the mere existence of empty concepts on the
radical externalist’s view. We move now to the explanation of intention
behavior. Segal says “It is not a serious option to doubt that the
Fang have an empty concept bekong. It certainly appears that the
concept plays an important role in their thought….beliefs, desires, and
other cognitive states that motivate many of their activities” (35)
We agree that the Fang have an empty concept bekong. We also agree
that it plays an important role in the cognitive states and intentional
activities of the Fang. What we deny, and what Segal has not defended,
is that concepts that do not themselves literally express a content cannot
play these important cognitive roles. On our view, the empty term
“bekong” becomes psychologically associated with meaningful descriptions
(lore, character, stereotype). The cognitive role of the term “bekong”
is explained via (1) its cognitive association with the meaningful descriptions
and (2) the literal broad semantic contents of those associated descriptions.
Let’s consider some examples. First, consider a case where
a thought about the bekong causes another thought. Suppose the Fang
want to appease the bekong and decide to best do so by giving them an offering.
So the fear of the bekong causes the thought that to appease the bekong
it is good to give an offering. The first cognitive state may be
the fear expressed by the English sentence “The bekong are angry.”
This has the literal content identified with the ordered pair <____,
being angry>. It is expressed using the vacuous term in thought “bekong.”
How could this cause anything, if empty? It could by being psychologically
associated with several other thoughts from the bekong lore, such
as the thought that there are invisible conscious beings who speak directly
to us in our dreams and they are angry. It is associated with the
thought that there are invisible conscious beings who cause premature deaths
to our infants and those beings are angry. These associated thoughts
cause other thoughts about how to avoid the bad affects of the anger of
these beings. This leads to the intentions to appease these beings
by giving an offering. Since the incomplete thought “the bekong are
angry” is cognitively linked to these other complete thoughts (even though
they are false), it is quite easy to see how one thought (though empty)
could cause other thoughts.
As for the explanation of the intentional activities, it should
be quite easy to see how these incomplete thoughts about the bekong can
lead to complete thoughts and intentions about activities such as giving
offerings (or other activities aimed at the non-existent bekong).
For these associated thoughts are complete thoughts (though false).
So we see no difficulty at all for the radical externalist who claims that
empty concepts have no direct content. Any cognitive explanations
of thought or behavior is accounted for in terms of the perfectly contentful
lore associated with the empty natural kind terms. So we do not disagree
with Segal that there are empty natural kind concepts. We do disagree
that their existence gives any good reason to believe in the existence
of extension-independent (narrow) content. Our account above makes
no use of such content and does what Segal says cannot be done--provide
a viable alternative to his view (38).
ME (myalgic encephalomyelitis)
In a second example, Segal gives a more traditional style Twin-Earthian
argument for the existence of narrow content. Earth Peter has the
concept of ME (by its other name CFS chronic fatigue syndrome). Twin-Peter
has the same concept, but on Twin-Earth ME doesn’t exist. From
the twins’ epistemic perspectives, everything about symptoms of “ME” on
Earth and Twin-Earth are identical (both are associated with dizziness,
rashes, aches, sensitivity to light and sound, cold sores, swellings and
forgetfulness). Thus, the argument is that Peter and Twin-Peter must
share some content to explain the sameness of their thoughts and behavior.
Since their concepts do not share extensions, there must be some extension-independent
contents that their concepts share.
Segal suggests that the assumption that Peter and Twin-Peter
share the same concept of ME “would work perfectly well” (41). Here
he makes the standard assumption that the best explanation of the sameness
of intentional behavior is that the twins share intentional content (in
this case, the concept of ME). He is appealing to the idea that the
best explanation of why the concepts of the twins have the same cognitive
causal roles is that they share the same content. And “if the two
concepts had only wide contents, then it is not at all obvious why their
cognitive roles should be the same” (43).
However, we have an explanation of why the roles would be the
same even if their contents were different. The reason is that both
twins associate the exact same lore with the terms “ME,” even though on
Earth the term is not empty and on Twin-Earth the term is empty.
The content of the associated lore is identical and shared by the twins.
The cognitive sameness of Earth Peter’s ME-concept and Twin-Peter’s ME-concept
is to be explained in terms of the sameness of associated lore. The
sameness of causal role in thought and behavior is to be explained in the
same way.
So suppose Peter thinks “ME is making me dizzy, forgetful, and
causing a rash.” This thought causes Peter to go to the doctor for
medication. Peter’s thought expresses the proposition identified
by the n-tuple <Peter, causation, ME, dizziness, forgetfulness, and
rash>. Peter associates with ME the descriptions “cause of dizziness,
forgetfulness, and rash” (among other things). Peter existentially
generalizes that he has a single kind of disease that is causing his symptoms
and, therefore, he should seek a doctor. His thoughts are true
and cause him to seek a doctor for help.
Twin Peter has a thought of the same form “ME is making me dizzy, forgetful,
and causing a rash.” Though he doesn’t know it, his thought expresses
the incomplete proposition identified by the n-tuple <Twin-Peter, causation,
___, dizziness, forgetfulness, and rash>. Twin-Peter’s thought lacks
a truth value. Since Twin-Peter does not know his thought is incomplete
and lacks a truth value, he existentially generalizes that he has a single
kind of disease that causes these symptoms and, therefore, he should seek
a doctor. His thought that he has a single kind of disease
is false yet causes him to seek a doctor for help. Twin-Peter has
no disease ME, but he does have the same symptoms Peter associates with
ME. Twin-Peter’s thoughts that he has these symptoms are not
false. He, like Peter, believes he has a single disease called “ME”
causing the symptoms. He like Peter goes to the doctor for help because
he has this thought. Unlike Peter, his thought that he has ME is
false. Like Peter, his thought that he has these symptoms is true.
Epistemically, since Twin-Peter is in exactly the same situation
as Peter, his cognitive contents work the same in explaining the sameness
of his (and Peter’s) behavior. The differences in the broad
contents of their thoughts factor out precisely because the differences
are epistemically opaque to the agents. The differences also factor
out of the explanation of the sameness of their behavior.
Therefore, we see no difficulty whatsoever for the radical externalist
to explain the sameness of behavior that there is between Peter and Twin-Peter.
There is no need of extension-independent content to explain this sameness
of the behavior of Twin-Earth and Earth twins. Though the content
of their concepts are different (one being empty, one not), the contents
of their associated concepts are the same. It is the contents of
the associated concepts that share the same broad contents plus the cognitive
association with the empty (and filled) concepts that explains the sameness
of the twins’ behavior (what sameness there is). Segal has the same
strategy for explaining sameness of behavior of the twins as we do.
It is just that he wants to find shared content in the very concept of
ME. Whereas, we want to find only shared content in the associated
concepts and descriptions. We see no reason to prefer his shared
content to ours. Therefore, neither of these examples lends support
to Segal’s arguments against radical externalism of concepts.
We will return to two more of Segal’s arguments when we consider
the case of Swampman (and supervenience) below. Next we wish to establish
that our reply to Segal also satisfactorily handles Boghossian’s “Dry Earth”
example.
VI Dry Earth
In the context of arguing that there is an incompatibility between
externalism and certain kinds of a priori knowledge of our thought contents,
Boghossian (1997) introduces the example of Dry Earth. We won’t here
address the issue of compatibility with a priori knowledge.
Instead we will focus attention on Boghossian’s claim that there must be
a kind of content incompatible with externalism.
Boghossian introduced this as a case of an empty natural kind
term and a powerful difficulty for externalism. Boghossian’s (1997)
Dry Earth is a Twin-Earth style example where Dry Earth is a “planet just
like ours in which, although it very much seems to its inhabitants that
there is a clear, tasteless and colorless liquid flowing in their rivers
and taps to which they confidently take themselves to be applying the word
‘water,’ these appearances are systematically false and constitute a sort
of pervasive collective mirage” (170).
Boghossian employs the example in order to raise the potentially
embarrassing question “what concept, if any, should a Twin Earth
externalist say would be expressed by tokens of the word ‘water’ on this
Dry Earth? (170)” Boghossian wants to say that on Dry Earth, ‘water’
expresses a concept even though it fails to refer. But what concept does
it express? He suggests that one could say that it expresses a compound
concept such as: “the clear, tasteless, colorless liquid that flows in
the taps and the rivers around here now….” (171). Boghossian finds
this suggestion to be plausible, but not avialable to the Twin Earth externalists
because it would make ‘water’ an atomic concept when it referred, but a
complex, non-atomic concept when it failed to refer (where the only difference
was an external difference).
Of course, we do not accept the compound description as a plausible
candidate for the content of “water” on Dry Earth. So we do not run
afoul of the atomic/non-atomic problem. For us the concept is atomic
but empty. Boghossian presses one who takes this line as follows:
“What proposition—what truth condition—is expressed by sentences of the
form, ‘Water is wet’, for example, as uttered on Dry Earth? What
is it that gets said?” (173)
Our answer, of course, is that “Water is wet” express the incomplete
proposition identified with the order pair <___, being wet> (and expresses
it using ‘water’). This incomplete proposition is neither true nor
false, but it is what gets said. Of course, we also maintain that
on Dry Earth one who utters this sentence may pragmatically impart the
false proposition that there is a cool colorless liquid that flows in the
taps and rivers around here. This will be false, but will explain
the apparent truth to Dry Earthlings and help explain their behavior (or
the sameness of their behavior with Earthlings, such sameness as there
is).
Boghossian further claims that such a line of response by the
externalist is fatal to the claim that there is a concept in the first
place, but this would be like saying that an empty proper name ‘Vulcan’
is not a name. True, it does not have a semantic value, but there
is more to being a name than successfully naming. Names have syntactic
form and can form psychological associations. Concepts do no less.
Both do this whether they are filled or empty. So it is as much a
mistake to claim that the externalist cannot admit the existence of empty
concepts as to say that they cannot admit the existence of empty names.
Thus, we reject Boghossian’s claim that concepts must have non-empty extensions
for externalists. Natural kind concepts can exist and be empty even
on externalist accounts.
VII Swampman
We have answered Segal’s and Boghossian’s challenges to radical externalism.
We will now conjoin two more arguments that Segal takes to support the
existence of extension-independent content. Both are types of argument
that appeal to supervenience and both are susceptible to the now standard
swampman type of challenge—which we will present and defend.
Consider once again the “ME” example above. Let Peter and
Twin-Peter be physical duplicates. According to the thesis of supervenience,
mental properties supervene upon physical properties and there can’t be
a mental difference without a corresponding physical difference.
There is no physical difference among the twins. So, Segal maintains,
there is no difference in conceptual content. Peter’s concept ME
must be identical to Twin-Peter’s concept ME (44). Segal claims the
physical neurological bases of the twins are identical and that the environmental
differences of the twins are negligible. True, Peter’s world includes
the ME virus and Twin-Peter’s doesn’t. Instead it includes a motley
of factors that produce Twin-Peter’s symptoms. But Segal adds “[b]y
assumption, his concept is empty. It has no extension. It does
not apply to the motley of phenomena….Everything present on [Earth] that
could be relevant is also present on [Twin-Earth]” (45). So Segal
concludes that Peter and Twin-Peter share the same extension-independent
concept ME.
Before we discuss this further, Segal’s third argument adds to
this only that for nativists (such as Chomskians), one may wish to
consider diachronic conditions of concept acquisition. One would
want to know how Peter and Twin-Peter acquired their concept of ME.
“In order to explain this, we would have to develop a complex theory of
[their] innate endowment and developmental history…how [they] learned about
the diseases, and so on. But the key point is that whatever truth
of the matter, everything specified by that theory would be present on
[Earth and Twin-Earth]” (46). So whatever conditions are sufficient
for Peter to acquire the concept of ME are available for Twin-Peter to
acquire the concept. What this argument adds to the above is the
innateness hypothesis. If concepts are innate, then they can develop
in different kinds of environments, making it more plausible that the twins
(in different environments) share the same concept. On the synchronic
supervenience hypothesis, any physical difference in one environment could
lead to a difference in mental content. On the diachronic, sameness
of innate content may tolerate some differences in physical environments.
Our objection to these claims is that there is one crucial difference
in the environments of the twins. Peter causally interacts with the
ME virus. Twin-Peter does not. This will cause a difference
in content. Peter’s concept is of ME. Twin-Peter’s concept
is of nothing (though it is psychologically associated with concepts of
causes and symptomatic properties associated with “ME”).
Segal anticipates this reply and rejects it on the grounds that
it is implausible because “developmental psychologists do not usually care
whether the concepts they study are empty or not” (47). We find this
to be irrelevant since developmental psychologists do not usually discuss
Twin-Earth style cases (nor do they usually care about a philosophical
theory of semantic content).
The differences in content of the twins’ concepts is not something
that is epistemically accessible to the twins (or to developmental psychologists).
So there is no reason to suppose that the twins would notice the difference
(or that developmental psychologists would—uninformed as they are about
the differences on the twin planets). Since the concepts associated
with ME are the same for the twins, the association of these same concepts
can explain the sameness that exists for the twins’ thoughts and behavior.
That sameness would be sufficient for any developmental psychologist (or
social scientist). However, the difference in causal relations to
one’s enviornment for the twins is crucial to the difference in content.
One cannot think about a thing or property without interacting with the
thing or property (or with one who has)—or so we maintain.
The swampman examples are the crucial test cases for the dispute
we are now having with Segal. For these examples test our (and his)
intuitions about just this issue: must one interact with a property or
its instances to have thoughts the contents of which are that very property?
Segal says no. We say yes.
Along with twin cases, the test cases for theories of content
have always included brains in vats or physical duplicates with no prior
causal histories with an environment. Such is the example of Donald
Davidson’s (1987) swampman. Let Swamp-Peter be a physical duplicate
of Peter (as is Twin-Peter), but with no prior causal history. Davidson
has him fly together out of particles after lightning hits a stump in a
swamp (hence, “swampman”). If Segal’s appeals to supervenience are
correct, then Swamp-Peter should have the same concept ME as Peter (and
Twin-Peter). Segal admits that a claim such as that Swamp-Peter has
the concept ME is “less plausible than its analogue [for Twin-Peter]….because
[Swamp-Peter] has nothing resembling a history of acquisition of the concept”
(52).
Segal points out that if one assumes Swamp-Peter is subject to
psychological explanations, then it is easier to maintain that Swamp-Peter
should be said to share the same ME concept with Peter and Twin-Peter.
However, we see no good reason to maintain initially—in the few hours after
Swamp-Peter materializes—that his movements are subject to psychological
explanation. Just because there are syntactic structures in
Swamp-Peter’s head that are causing his bodily movements, that does not
mean that his bodily movements constitute intentional behavior.
Segal goes on to maintain that it would be “unprincipled” for
the externalist to deny that Swamp-Peter has a concept of ME.
But his claim is based upon one’s accepting his arguments that have gone
before. Since we have systematically rejected those arguments, and
provided principles for doing so, our denial here is hardly “unprincipled.”
If Swamp-Peter utters the sounds “ME hurts,” we maintain that he has uttered
nothing meaningful to him, nor has he expressed a proposition or a thought.
This is not because he hasn’t interacted with ME but because he has no
intentional states whatsoever.
Segal’s last gasp is the charge that to deny Swamp-Peter any
thoughts or a concept of ME is “counterintuitive” (55). If true,
so be it. We are in the business of defending radical externalism.
Our account of empty proper names and empty kind terms also requires that
we hold negative existential sentences such as “Santa doesn’t exist” or
“phlogiston does not exist” to lack truth values (but be associated with
imparted truths). We are willing to give up an intuition here or
there to preserve a theory that us unified and treats all names (proper
or common) the same. So we are willing to embrace the counterintuitive
result of maintaining that Swamp-Peter has no concept of ME.
VIII Descriptive names and kind terms (McGinn)
There are two types of reply that one may make to the defense of radical
externalism that we have given. One (due to McGinn, 1989) is that
that content of an empty kind term could be complex and non-atomic and
may not depend upon real relations to instances of the kind. The
other is based on the possibility that empty kind terms may be treated
as descriptive names. We think neither of these replies work.
Consider the first suggestion. McGinn claims (35) that
one may have the concept of H2O without having interacted with instances
of water. One may have the concept of H2O, having interacted with
H and with O (but not their compound substance). Notice that McGinn
did not say that one who has this concept will thereby have the concept
of water. For water may be an atomic concept, and it does not follow
that if one has the complex concept H2O, then one has the atomic concept
water. Even though these concepts are of the same stuff, they are
not necessarily the same concepts. To have the concept of water,
one need not have the concept of H (but not so for the latter).
While we accept that one may have the complex concept H2O without
interacting with its instances, we are less sanguine about McGinn’s claim
that one may have the concept coal by composing the complex concept “wood
compressed in a certain way over millions of years.” One need not
have the concept of wood to have the concept of coal (in the days before
we discovered its chemical nature).
Even setting aside this worry, McGinn’s examples are cases of
property identities. They will not rescue the examples of Boghossian
or Segal. In the Dry Earth example, Boghossian is not claiming, nor
should he, that water = the clear, colorless, odorless stuff that flows
in the rivers and taps around here. Water may be in a gaseous or
solid state. In the Segal examples, it is not being claimed that
ME = the cause of a set of symptoms. The ME virus could cause different
symptoms under different circumstances. And the same is the case
with the bekong. The property of being a bekong is not being identified
with a set of contingently associated descriptions the Fang use to think
about them.
So even if one could think about H2O without interacting with
it, it does not follow that the Fang can think about bekong, nor that Twin-Peter
can think about ME. For the descriptions associated with these entities
are not descriptions of property identities. The same can be said
about Boghossian’s example. Being water is not identical with its
phenomenal manifestations of the associated descriptions. So thinking
of the latter does not constitute thinking of the former (even setting
aside the issue of atomic vs. non-atomic disparities).
Hence, while McGinn may well be right about the possibility of
having complex concepts without interacting with their instances, this
won’t rescue the examples we’ve discussed and rejected as problems for
radical externalism.
Turning to the second possible reply, one may treat empty concepts
as a type of descriptive name. One might maintain that all empty
names are descriptive names. We will now explain why one might
be tempted toward such a view and why we think it fails.
Kripke (1972) and Evans (1982) discuss the possibility of descriptive
names. An example of a descriptive name is introducing the name “Julius”
to stand for whoever invented the zip. Both Kripke and Evans suggest
that names can be introduced in this way. If someone, say Ken, actually
invented the zip then “Julius” refers to Ken and can be used to make assertions
about Ken (“That Julius was a smart guy”).
Evans (1982) adds the remark that descriptive names are names
“even if the name is empty” (31). Evans may go on to say that if
no single person invented the zip, then the name fails to refer.
What then of the negative existential sentence “Julius does not exist?”
Since the name was introduced via the description “the inventor of the
zip” and there is no referent, the content of this utterance may be taken
to be that the inventor of the zip does not exist--which would be true.
So on this view, empty names, if descriptive names, would not express gappy
or incomplete propositions. “Julius is tall” would express the proposition
that the inventor of the zip is tall (and would be false). And so
on. Hence, if all empty names are descriptive names, one may be able
to avoid the unintuitive consequences our theory is required to explain
away by appeal to the mechanisms of association and pragmatic implication.
One may be tempted to adopt this view of empty concepts for similar
reasons. It would be intuitively acceptable, and it would straightforwardly
make negative existential sentences true assertions (not pragmatically
implied truths). For example, in the case of the Fang’s bekong, one
may say the empty concept is introduced via the natural kind term and the
associated descriptions. If there is something that satisfies the
associated descriptions, then the term “bekong” applies to that thing.
If there is nothing that satisfies the descriptions (as we assume to be
the case), then the term fails to refer and the concept is empty.
However, to say “the bekong are angry” is to say “the Gs are angry” (where
“the Gs” are the associated descriptions) and the sentence is false.
And to say “the bekong do not exist” is to say that there is nothing that
is G (which is true).
Similar treatments are available for Segal’s example of “ME” and Boghossian’s
Dry Earth. For example, in the latter, the term “water” would be
introduced on Dry Earth via the description G (= the cool, clear, colorless
liquid…). If there is something G, then “water” applies to it.
“Water is wet” would express that the G is wet. “There is no water”
would express that there is nothing that is G. And so on.
So this way of handling empty kind terms has much to recommend it.
It avoids the unintuitive consequences of the view we are defending here—a
view that utilizes incomplete propositions and truth-value gaps, and pragmatic
implications. Making empty kind terms descriptive names avoids all
of that.
We hanker for an account in which all names and kind terms make
the same semantic contribution to their informational (or propositional)
content on occasion of use. We shall explain why the theory of names
and kind terms we just described is not a unified theory of names.
On it, filled names and descriptive names have two different semantic functions
(make two different types of informational contribution to propositional
content on occasions of use). The remainder of this paper will be
devoted to explaining this and defending our account for the reason that
it alone offers a unified theory of the semantics of names and kind terms.
Until or unless the unified account is shown to have a fatal flaw (or we
are overwhelmed by the beauty of an alternate theory) we maintain that
its simplicity and economy are still among its major strengths.
Descriptive names and kind terms can be filled or empty.
Let’s first consider cases where they are filled. So let’s suppose
that Earthlings first introduced the name “ME” for the single unique kind
of cause of the symptoms associated with this illness (where “this” demonstrates
those with the disease, and the symptoms are those we listed above).
Let this description = G. So “ME” is introduced via G. Then
suppose a unique kind of virus V on Earth causes the disease. Then
since V is G, “ME” names virus V. So if Peter has ME, Peter has virus
V.
The unique thing about descriptive names and kind terms is that the
route from the introduction of the name to the bearer is not the same as
Kripke’s “initial baptisms,” for proper names, nor direct causal contact
for kind concepts. Normally, when someone introduces a name there
is a more or less direct causal chain between the introduction of the name
and the bearer of the name (causal via the cognitive capacities of the
one introducing the name). So, at birth and in her presence Laura’s
parents decided to name her “Laura.” In the case of descriptive names,
there may be no direct causal path from the introducer of the name “ME”
to the virus V. The description associated with the name G, (the
lore, if you will) is a recipe for connecting the name to its bearer.
Since virus V fits the description G (the lore is true of it)--it is via
the lore G that “ME” refers to virus V.
Okay. So far so good, but now when one utters “ME is a
draining disease,” what proposition does one express? There are two
choices:
(a) The G is a draining disease,
(b) ME (aka Virus V) is a draining disease.
Some proponents (Evans, 1982, Recanati, 1993) of descriptive names
would maintain that (a) is correct. We maintain that only (b) is
correct. We maintain this because we maintain that names always
make the same semantic contribution. They contribute their bearers
(if they have bearers) to the proposition they express. It is true
(in the example) that ME (aka virus V) is the G. However, if the
name “ME” made the semantic contribution the G on an occasion of use, then
the meaning of the name “ME” would be the description “the G.” But the
meanings of names are their bearers (if they have bearers). Or at
least, that is the theory we are defending. So a name might be introduced
via a description (a piece of lore associated with the name). Even though
the description might help link the name with its bearer, once linked (and,
hence filled) the informational content of the name on an occasion of use
is its bearer. There is no reason to maintain that the meaning of
the name is other than its bearer.
Why do some philosophers believe otherwise? We maintain
that it is because they mistake the pragmatic implicature associated with
a name via the lore for the semantic content of the expression using the
name. So when one claims that (a) is true, we would agree, but argue
that it is true only because it is a pragmatic implicature. (b) is
the literal semantic content of “ME is draining.”
We would add that even Recanati agrees that once the name “ME”
becomes established as a name for virus V, and we have additional lore
associated with “ME”, the description “the G” may lose privileged status.
We may even come to learn that it is true that ME is not the G (or is G
no longer). This could not happen in any possible world where “ME”
had “the G” as its meaning, but could happen where “ME” meant ME (aka virus
V).
So that is what we would say about filled descriptive names and
kind terms. There are no surprises here. Our account says the
same thing about all names, filled or empty, descriptive or not.
They make the same kind of semantic contribution. They are associated
with various amounts of lore (or descriptions). And they contribute
only their bearers to the propositions they express on occasions of use.
Let’s turn to empty descriptive names and kind terms. What
does our account say about them? The answer should by now be obvious.
Empty descriptive names or kind terms occur when a name is associated with
a set of descriptions (or lore) and no object is the bearer of the name.
So suppose “ME” fails to refer on Twin-Earth because there was no virus
V or the syndrome was caused by a motley of causes (as per Segal’s suggestion).
Then the question becomes what does “ME is draining” express? On
our account it expresses the gappy proposition identified by <____,
being draining> and it does this by using the name “ME.” It does
not express the proposition (a) that the G is draining because, while
this is a true pragmatic implicature, the description “the G” is not the
meaning of the name “ME.” We would say what “ME does not exist” does
express, but all readers know that by now.
While we understand the motivation for thinking that consideration
of descriptive names introduces a new theory of empty names, we have maintained
that it does so at the expense of a unified theory of names. The
resultant theory would treat the meanings of names as descriptions, which
we maintain they are not. On our view, the descriptive part of descriptive
names or kind terms (filled or empty) is just the lore associated with
names or kind terms.
IX CONCLUSION
In this paper we defend the view that empty names and kind terms have
no meaning because they have no bearers. Having no bearers, they
cannot contribute an object or a property to the content of a proposition
expressed on an occasion of use. Hence, they cannot be used to say
or think things that are true or false.
We have given a mechanism to explain away any appearances that
empty names or kind terms can express truths in such cases as negative
existential sentences. We explain away the appearance of truth by
virtue of the associated lore of empty names and the pragmatic implicatures
generated by their use.
In addition, we have considered several objections. The
objections of Segal and Boghossian focus not on empty proper names, but
empty kind terms. Their arguments and examples challenge our version
of externalism to explain not only what sentences employing empty terms
express, but also how empty concepts can cause thoughts and intentional
behavior. We explain how the contents of associated descriptions
plus the syntactic objects that constitute tokens of empty terms in thought
are up to these tasks.
In addition, we consider two further challenges to our view based
upon the idea that empty kind terms may be non-atomic and the challenge
that empty kind terms may be kinds of descriptive names. We explain
why both of these challenges may seem promising, but fail to provide a
better alternative than our own view.
Thus, we offer our radical externalist account of empty names
and kind terms as an interesting and plausible contender in the semantics
of names and kind terms. It is a unified view. On it, all names
make the same kind of semantic contribution to thought or speech.
Names of any kind contribute their bearers (objects or properties) to what
is said or thought on an occasion of use (or thought). For atomic
names and kind terms, empty terms have no meaning and contribute no object
or property to a proposition expressed. However, associated lore
can account for any apparent content or truth or falsity.
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