In these troubled times, I do find Haydn’s music a particular delight and solace (I’m surely not alone in this!). Particularly the inexhaustible quartets. Four years ago, we had two outstanding CDs of the Op. 20 quartets from the Chiaroscuro Quartet, on gut strings with what has become the quartet’s distinctive and addictive sound. And then last year, to equal acclaim, they released a recording of the first three of the Op. 76 quartets. Now we have the remaining three quartets. This has already been Radio 3’s new release of the week. It really is extraordinarily fine. All the Chiaroscuro Quartet’s virtues are here. Appropriately to their name, all their constrasts of light and shade, now exuberant, now subtly serious, passionate and then playful again, make for quite wonderful listening. Indisputably great music played by what is now an indisputably great quartet.
I’m a couple of weeks off the pace. This has been making a bit of a splash — Susanne Bobzien’s just-published fifty-page piece ‘Frege plagiarized the Stoics’ (the book of lectures in which it is published is available open access here).
The headline claim is that Frege had closely studied the 95 page chapter on Stoic logic in the first volume of Carl Prantl’s monumental four-volume Geschichte der Logik im Abendland (History of Western Logic), published in 1855. While Prantl himself was pretty dismissive of the Stoics, he gives most of the available sources: and Bobzien traces out what she counts as over a hundred places where, she claims, Frege’s own doctrines and their mode of presentation very closely follow unacknowledged Stoic originals. You don’t have to tackle the whole paper to get the broad message: the opening pages of Bobzien’s paper before she gets down to the nitty-gritty details are already a fascinating read.
Although the thought that there are some parallels between Frege and the Stoics is an old one, Bobzien’s thesis is at a quite different level, giving multiple passage-by-passage parallels on a range of topics. I must say I found it all rather startling. But I’m no historian. Martin Lenz is, and here’s his reaction (“groundbreaking”). It might be a while before the dust settles.
Lucy Crowe in stunning voice, singing Purcell’s The Plaint “Oh, oh let me weep”. This is from a concert “FolkBaroque” from the Baroque at the Edge series. And it very worthwhile paying the extremely modest subscription charge to view and listen to the whole concert (the rest of the programme is more cheeringly upbeat! — but this for me is the quite extraordinary highpoint).
I was so tempted by the idea of recording podcasts to accompany IFL. After all, that is a longish book — well over 400 pages, with 42 chapters. There is a lot of signposting as we go through. But I thought that some student readers might still appreciate a series of orientating chats, giving relaxed introductions to some main topics, which could be listened to over a coffee before tackling chapters from the book.
But on second thoughts podcasts were of course a dumb idea. We very soon have to start juggling with symbols in logic — and how can we do that in a podcast, without being able to use a blackboard or whatever? A bit of experimentation suggested that the audio format wasn’t going to work very well (even if I included instructions like “look at page 123”). So I’m going to compromise. Yes, we want something that is as relatively informal as a podcast, which is still relaxed, short and snappy. But we also want to be able to use some symbols, or eventually state theorems which you might need to look at twice to understand; so we need something bite-sized but text-based. Call the compromise a ‘logicbite’ — with an admiring nod to that wonderful series of philosophybites podcasts.
I’ve made a start, and the first
five seven logicbites are now online here. They’ve developed in a way I didn’t really plan or predict — but rather than summarize my own words in my own words, I’ve found myself giving quotes (sometimes extensive ones) from other textbook authors, introducing key ideas in their words. It is always good for students to hear more than once voice.
And if I quibble with the quoted authors (especially in Logicbite 4, at some length), that’s not because I want to be particularly captious. Rather it is good for students to see it isn’t easy to get things spot on. We want to encourage students to read even logic texts — including mine! — with a sharply critical eye. Anyway, I hope some will find the logicbites useful. (At the moment IFL is being downloaded over a thousand times a month, so I guess some students out there are indeed being directed to it.)
Having said that I needed to focus, I’ve immediately found myself distracted by reading Robert Trueman’s new book Properties and Propositions, just published by CUP.
I’ve three excuses. First, I’ve always been gripped by Frege’s claim that the concept horse is not a concept (I encountered this the very first year I was doing philosophy as a student, and vividly remember all those years ago a heated argument with a friend in a corridor of the UL, trying to persuade them that there really was a genuine issue here!). And it is central to Rob’s project to extract what he sees as the truth underlying Frege’s seemingly paradoxical formulation. Second, it’s not that much of a distraction to be looking at this book; its subtitle is ‘The Metaphysics of Higher Order Logic’ and the next bit I want to update in the Study Guide is the section on second-order logic. So I’ve just been thinking around and about related matters. Third and not least, I know Rob from the days just before retirement, when he was a lively and engaging presence among the logic-minded Cambridge grad students. So it is very good to see that ideas which he was starting working on then have come to fruition.
The headline news is Rob defends a view he calls Fregean realism (though, as he frankly acknowledges, it could almost equally well be called Fregean nominalism). This is a theory about properties, driven by what he takes to be Frege’s insight that properties (‘concepts’ in Frege’s unusual usage) are not objects. Rob presses the Fregean line in a strong form, arguing that is nonsense to say that a property is an object. “Properties and objects are … incomparable: we have a way of saying things about objects, and a way of saying things about properties, but these two ways cannot be mixed and matched.” So what are properties? On Rob’s view, properties are nothing but the satisfaction conditions of predicates. Stress the ‘are’ and the view has a sort-of-realist flavour, stress the ‘nothing but’ (though those are my words) and the view has a sort-of-nominalist flavour. Though even talk of satisfaction conditions can be misleading: “Fregean realists must … acknowledge that, strictly speaking, it is misleading to call the referents of predicates ‘properties’, or ‘satisfaction conditions’, and come up with something better” (which indeed Rob aims to do). We are, in Tractarian style, crashing up against the limits of what can be said.
There’s a co-ordinating theory of propositions too: if properties are (if we are allowed to speak this way) satisfaction conditions, propositions are truth conditions, which Rob also identifies with states of affairs. I said things are getting Tractarian! And he ends up with an identity theory of truth, the theory that true propositions are identical to obtaining states of affairs.
I was going to say ‘this is heady stuff’ — but that would be the wrong word, as it is very deflationary in spirit: we are certainly in a different ballpark from those recent metaphysicians who have made play with a substantial metaphysics of properties. And I’m sympathetic to this sort of deflationary project. Anyway, if wrestling with ideas which have their roots in Frege, the Tractatus, and Ramsey is your thing, then Rob’s invigorating book is to be warmly recommended. It’s a challenging read in the good sense of that it might disturb some received ideas (though perhaps not so much if you have thought carefully about your Dummett on Frege). But it is not challenging in the bad sense of being hard going: it is tightly focused, written in shortish chapters with model clarity. Indeed, I found that it zips along, and read most of the book in an enjoyable day. And I’ll want to return to work through parts of it more carefully.
I’ll not say more now. Except take as read my grumble about the absurd prices that CUP are now charging for print-on-demand hardback books like this one. But all the same, you should make sure your library gets a copy (or gets the online version via the Cambridge Core system).
These have been depressing times, despite good vaccine news, no? Grey winter days do not lift the lockdown spirits. So an unproductive period for me. I don’t think I’m alone in this either.
Regrouping, I realize I’ve been trying to juggle too many balls at the same time recently. So — with apologies to Catarina Dutilh Novaes — I’m going to hang fire on blogging chapter-by-chapter about her interesting The Dialogical Roots of Induction (this is such a wide-ranging book, and it would take me too much time to do the homework to do it detailed justice). I might put together some brisker comments later. I’m also going to back off from the idea of doing some podcasts. I need to focus, and since both are downloaded a lot, I’m going to concentrate over the next few months on completing (i) the new version study guide and (ii) the notes on category theory. Which probably won’t make for many interesting blog posts here!
OK; so I have now uploaded the latest version of the partial Logic: A Study Guide, with a new twelve page chapter on elementary set theory. There is an overview of the topics, and I’ve slightly revised my preference-ordering of recommended texts. It’s been fun (and embarrassingly instructive) to revisit some of those basic set theory book; so I hope that some students will find the results useful!
Moving on to discuss Chapter 2 of Catarina Dutilh Novaes’s The Dialogical Roots of Deduction …
CDN has argued in her opening chapter that “deduction remains a puzzling phenomenon. While a number of accounts have been proposed, none of them is entirely satisfactory.” So how to proceed? In §2.1, she proposes to adopt a “more encompassing perspective” than usual, using a wider range of “methodological approaches”. But what, more specifically, does that come to? She writes “the key idea of the project … was to go back to the roots of deduction. It is obviously inspired by Quine’s classic The Roots of Reference (Quine, 1974).”
Now, in principle, that is just fine by me: I’m a fan of Quine’s (underrated?) book, and I’d love to see a broadly comparable project to his, now focused on questions about deduction. But I’m not sure that’s really what we are going to get, as CDN immediately goes on to say that the way she “conceive[s] of the roots in question is broader in scope than Quine”, to the point where we are going to need “sustained engagement with the empirical literature in psychology, cognitive science, and education sciences”, and also “analysis of historical texts … but combined with a broader historical perspective taking into account developments outside philosophy”. I’m open to persuasion that casting the methodological net so very widely will give us in the end a coherently illuminating story: but the project certainly isn’t sounding very like Quine’s sharply focused project.
In fact, §2.2 is titled “The Different Roots of Reference”, and CDN says more about the variety of considerations she wants to bring to bear on her topic. I continue to have a question though — one I had already about Chapter 1 — of what exactly the topic is. She talks of ‘deductive reasoning’. And sometimes this seems to mean elaborated passages of multi-step reasoning (the sort of thing that’s indeed a bit of an acquired taste). For example, she writes “deductive reasoning emerged as a cognitive technology (though arguably, it remains restricted to circles of specialists), in a way similar to literacy.” If we are focusing on that — the sort of thing that, paradigmatically, mathematicians go on for — we’d all agree that there are will be an interesting “historical question: which cultural processes gave rise to the emergence of deductive reasoning [in that sense]” and an “ontogenetic question: how do deductive reasoning skills arise in a given individual?”. And again, when CDN writes “it is not clear that deductive reasoning abilities in fact confer survival advantages on those individuals”, maybe that case is indeed arguable for reasoning-as-extended-passages-of-argument.
But what about, say, the ability to form disjunctive beliefs, and then use such a belief in a step of disjunctive syllogism? What about, say, the ability to form conditional beliefs (in formulating plans), and then use such a belief in a step of modus ponens when we come to believe the antecedent? Are these cultural variables? Some might suppose, I guess, that a culturally contingent practice of extended deductive reasoning has its roots (to borrow a word!) in capactities for simple-minded deductive reasoning which are not so variable. (And the fact that there are some relatively simple deductive tasks we are not very good at — as the Wason test reminds us! — is no reason for thinking that being good at the ones we are good at doesn’t confer evolutionary advantage!) CDN writes that she is going to “survey the main findings on how deductive reasoning skills emerge and develop in individuals, drawing in particular from the literature on the psychology of reasoning and on mathematics education”. That may indeed be an interesting project — but we’ll have to see what it can tell us about deductive inference in general, as opposed more extended passages of reasoning in particular.
In §2.3, CDN links the project of looking for “roots” of deduction with the claim that the concept of deduction has significantly changed over time. Which again rather points up the non-Quinean aspects of her notion of “roots”. And this gets me wondering about the variety of philosophical enquiries that might be deemed illuminating enquiries into “roots” in some broad sense (and CDN’s usage is nothing if not broad). So before going on to comment on §2.4, where CDN first sketches her dialogical approach, I’m minded — just to get my own ideas straighter — to pause over this, and say something in my next post about the variety of enquiries into “roots” we find in books I greatly admire by Bennett, Hacking and Craig, as well as by Quine.
To be continued.
There are three recent books on my desk which I’m looking forward to tackling. Two are Joan Weiner’s Taking Frege at his Word (OUP) and Juliette Kennedy’s Gödel, Tarski and the Lure of Natural Language (CUP). But I’m going to start by reading, and blogging about, a third:
Catarina Dutilh Novaes’s The Dialogical Roots of Deduction was published last month by (CUP). Your library could already have e-access via the Cambridge Core system.
CDN aims, says the blurb, ‘to bring together perspectives from philosophy, history, psychology and cognitive science, and mathematical practice … to argue for an overarching conceptualization of deduction as a dialogical practice’. We’ll have to see what this amounts to, and what new light gets thrown on old puzzles about the nature of deductive reason by this approach. So let’s dive in (and it is good to report that the book is engagingly readable).
Chapter 1 is titled ‘The Trouble with Deduction’. There’s a throat-clearing Introduction, and then §1.2 asks ‘What is a Deductive Argument?’. CDN highlights three features: (a) necessary truth-preservation, (b) stepwise structure and perspicuity, and (c) what she calls the bracketing belief requirement.
The first idea is a familiar enough theme: deductive validity is defined as requiring necessary truth-preservation. The question arising is going to be the nature of the necessity here; we’ll return to this.
The second idea is that ‘something else is required of a good deductive argument other than necessary truth-preservation: it must somehow make clear what the connection is between premises and conclusion such that the truth of the premise(s) guarantees the truth of the conclusion(s).’ So, to meet this requirement ‘a deductive argument … will typically contain numerous steps, each of which may be individually simple and thus individually not very informative, but by chaining such steps in a suitable way we may derive non-trivial conclusions from the given premises’.
The third idea is that ‘In its basic form, the game of deduction requires the reasoner to take the premises at face value, no questions asked: the focus is exclusively on the connection between premises and conclusions, not on the nature or plausibility
of the premises or conclusions.’ After remarking on some psychological research, CDN suggests ‘it seems that inferring conclusions from premises while disregarding one’s own doxastic attitudes toward premises and conclusions may require specific training. Yet, it is an integral component of deductive reasoning.’
Now I rather doubt that the third idea of belief bracketing tells us something special about deductive arguments. For isn’t this a feature of lots of (all?) kinds of argumentation? The law student faced with a description of an engagingly complex case, and asked to argue whether e.g. John Doe still has a contract with Jane Roe, entirely disregards whether ‘John Doe’ and ‘Jane Roe’ are pseudonyms for real people, and even disregards the likehood of the two parties getting themselves into the tangle described. The vaccine designer, reasoning about how to modify her vaccine in response to a range of different types of possible future virus mutation; her abductive reasoning brackets at least some questions about the relative plausibility of the scenarios (as she prepares for the worst while hoping for the best).
Perhaps there could be reasoners who can only reason from beliefs. But famously, it grants us an evolutionary advantage to be able to take our reasonings ‘offline’, argue from mere suppositions, and so we are able to send our suppositional hypotheses out to die in our stead. And that’s a general point about reasonings not about deductive reasoning in particular.
What about the second idea, that an epistemically useful deductive argument will typically chain together a number of individually not-very-informative steps? Well, again, isn’t this a point about argumentation more generally? The law student’s expansive legal argument for John Doe’s continuing contractual obligation, the vaccine-designer’s step-by-step argument for tweaking her vaccine design just so, again build up a case (perhaps for a surprising conclusion) by putting together simpler bits of reasoning. What is distinctive about the deductive case is not that there may be numerous steps leading to non-trivial conclusions, but (surely) that each step is necessarily truth-preserving (a property not lost by adding new steps to the argument).
So, until I hear more, I’m inclined to think that what is going to really matter for an account of distinctively deductive argumentation is going to be (as usually supposed, perhaps) the story about necessary truth-preservation (or warrant-preservation if you are constructively minded). Though this is consistent, of course, with that story being best told within a wider account of dialogical procedures of joint reasoning: we’ll see.
In §1.3, ‘The Issues’, CDN presents three philosophical questions about deductive
reasoning. One of them we have already noted, the nature of the necessity supposedly involved in deduction. Can we cash out the notion of necessity here in terms e.g. of a quantification over models? Is a proof-theoretic approach viable? There is a familiar bunch of questions here, and CDN notes some of the inconclusive recent debates in the literature.
But a prior issue is ‘Where Is Deduction to Be Found?’ — just what role does deductive reasoning play in our conceptual economy? CDN leans to the view that ‘deductive
reasoning is predominantly instantiated in mathematics and in some other regimented contexts of argumentation, such as philosophy’. Really? Maybe extended stretches of deductive reasoning are principally to be found there. But what about one-step syllogisms in Barbara? What about the instant one-step inference from a background general belief that No As are Bs and the new discovery that Jo is A to the conclusion Jo is not B? What about the jump from the background beliefs that ‘John is taller than Jo’ and ‘Jo is taller than Jane’ to the conclusion that ‘John is taller than Jane’? I’d have thought that such bits of local mini-inference were pretty common outside our mathematical activities! CDN’s view seems, then, to apply not to deductive reasoning in general but rather to extended passages of deductive argumentation in particular.
The third issue CDN raises is ‘What Is the Point of Deduction?’. The worry here is the old one — how to resolve the supposed inherent tension between the justification of deduction (the conclusion is already somehow there in the premisses) and the utility of deduction (we can get new knowledge by deductive reasoning). I confess I’ve always found this difficult to get excited about once we’ve noted that, while ‘entails’ may be transitive, ‘obviously entails’ certainly isn’t. Still, CDN remarks that ‘Deduction does not seem to be a particularly suitable way to produce new information … and it does not seem to be a reasonable guide for managing our beliefs and thoughts either’ (after all, it can’t be a sensible instruction to adopt every deductive consequence of our beliefs). So, she asks, ‘What, then, if anything, is the ‘point’ of deduction?’ And the promissory note is that her dialogic approach will give us a grip on this.
To be continued.
Almost a year ago, I started a sequence of what turned out to be fifteen blog posts on Luca Incurvati’s book Conceptions of Set. I never got round to returning to put everything together (after some comments from Luca himself) into a more careful and re-thought review. One day …! But meanwhile, if you were interested in those posts, you might enjoy Øystein Linnebo’s new review of the book.
A small contribution for World Logic Day 2021 today: Gödel Without (Too Many) Tears is now available as a free PDF download — linked here.
Later in the year, I plan to put up a series of short podcasts, where I give introductory chapter-by-chapter chats about book. Many students are stuck in front of video lectures for far too long at the moment anyway, so I’m very reluctant to adding to the catalogue of full-scale lectures, quite apart from the time it would take me to record decent ones. So brisk arm-waving talks sketchings some Big Ideas which you can listen to while walking around or staring out of the window, followed by readings at your own pace of comparatively content-rich chapters, seems a format for teaching/learning worth trying out.