R. M. Hare

Meaning and Speech Acts

A controversy has been brewing up for some time now between those who want to explain the meanings of certain words in terms of the speech acts which those words (or sentences containing them) are standardly used to perform, and those who say that this is a mistake. Let us call these two parties the performers and the critics. I have myself; in my treatment of ‘good’, put on one of the performances which is criticised; and Professor Strawson, in his account of ‘true’, has put on another.1 Professor Searle appears by turns as one of the most interesting performers and as one of the most trenchant critics. For he says, in general, in his recent excellent book, Speech Acts: A study of the meaning of sentences is not in principle distinct from a study of speech acts. Properly construed, they are the same study. Since every meaningful sentence in virtue of its meaning can be used to perform a particular speech act (or range of speech acts), and since every possible speech act can in principle be given an exact formulation in a sentence or sentences (assuming an appropriate context of utterance), the study of the meanings of sentences and the study of speech acts are not two independent studies but one study from two different points of view (p. 18); and in an article, with which I agree almost entirely, he attacks the view (attributed perhaps wrongly to Austin) that meaning is wholly distinct from illocutionary force.2 And in particular he convincingly analyses the word ‘promise’ in terms of the speech act of promising,3 and analyses referring expressions in terms of the speech act of referring.4 But on the other hand he severely criticises those who would treat ‘good’ in a similar way.1

Some Alleged Differences between Imperatives and Indicatives

Anybody who studies imperative or deontic logic is bound to be very soon faced with the question of whether the logic or group of logics that he is studying differs radically from ordinary ‘indicative’ or ‘assertoric’ logic, or whether it can be accommodated, after a few relatively simple explanations, within the framework of ordinary logic. It would be foolish to pretend that this question can yet be settled. In this article I am going to maintain a less ambitious thesis: that several of the reasons which various writers have given for alleging differences between imperative and ordinary logic are based on misunderstandings. I shall divide these misunderstandings into two groups. The first can, I think, be removed by a straightforward application of Mr Grice’s recent work on what he calls ‘implicatures’; and the second, by insisting on the distinction, often ignored, between ordinary singular imperatives, on the one hand, and ‘ought’-sentences on the other. This important distinction is obscured by those systems of deontic logic which use the same symbol or operator for both purposes.

Adolescents into Adults

Since I am going to criticise Mr Wilson in some respects, I must start by saying that I am, in all essentials, on the same side as he is. I believe in a distinction between education and indoctrination; and I believe that indoctrination is a bad thing. But I also believe that he stated his case somewhat too extremely; and I think that by so doing he exposed himself to some possible attacks from the propagandists of indoctrination. It is of the highest importance to safeguard Mr Wilson’s liberal views against such attacks; for otherwise advocates of the closed mind and the closed society may find it easier to enlist the support of moderates against Mr Wilson; and that would be a pity. I want you to realise, therefore, that my criticisms of Mr Wilson will bulk large in this lecture only because, to avoid repetition, I have left out all those many points on which I should agree with him.

The promising game

One of the most fundamental questions about moral judgements is whether they, and other value-judgements, can be logically derived from statements of empirical fact. Like most important philosophical questions, this one has reached the stage at which its discussion is bound to proceed piecemeal, in terms of particular examples, arguments and counter-arguments. This article is intended as a contribution to one such controversy. In a recent article, ‘How to derive “ought” from “is”’,1 Professor J. R. Searle attempts a feat which many before him have thought to perform. His argument, though it seems to me unsound, is set out with such clarity and elegance as amply to repay examination.

Wanting: Some Pitfalls

The first part of this paper is an attempt to find a hole in Professor Max Black’s argument in his article ‘The Gap between “Is” and “Should” ’.1 Let me start with a concrete example. Uncle John, an elderly and rich bachelor, and his nephew and sole heir James, are fishing from a small boat in shark-infested waters out of sight of other vessels. As they are waiting for a bite, James says:

Contrasting Methods of Environmental Planning

In planning the conduct of his affairs in relation to nature, man is faced with many problems which are so complex and so intermeshed that it is hard to say at first even what kind of problems they are. We are all familiar with the distinction between factual and evaluative questions, and I do not doubt that there is this distinction; but the actual problems with which we are faced are always an amalgam of these two kinds of question. The various methods used by environmental planners are all attempts to separate out this amalgam, as we have to do if we are ever to understand the problems — let alone solve them. I wish in this lecture to give examples of, and appraise, two such methods. I shall draw from this appraisal not only theoretical lessons which may interest the moral philosopher, but also practical lessons which, I am sure, those who try to plan our environment ought to absorb. Though my examples come mostly from urban planning, because that is the kind of planning with whose problems (although only an amateur) I am most familiar, what I have to say will apply also to problems about the countryside. Whether we have to deal with the human nature of the man in the congested street, or the nature of the nature reserves or of the areas of outstanding natural beauty, the word ‘nature’ may bear slightly different senses, but the problem is still the same: to ascertain the facts about this nature, and then to think how we should conduct ourselves in order to make things better, or at any rate not worse, than they would otherwise be.

Are There Moral Authorities

I have been struck, as many must have been, by the very small impact that philosophers have had on the current public debates in Britain on moral issues. This is partly because their help is not often sought; and partly because when it is sought the philosophers are not always helpful. There are now some good philosophers who work in applied philosophy. And there are also some philosophers who attempt this, but who, because of their faulty grasp of ethical theory, are not in a position to help very much. On the continent the position is much worse. I have also been struck on recent visits to Scandinavia and Germany first by the great public interest there is in moral questions, especially in medicine, but; secondly by how uncommon it is for philosophers to be asked to serve on committees and working parties that study such questions. It is much more usual for clergymen and lawyers to have a place on them. That perhaps shows that clergymen and lawyers are regarded as some sort of authorities on moral questions, but philosophers are not.

Utilitarianism and the Vicarious Affects

When Professor Rescher was kind enough to dedicate his excellent bookUnselfishness to me, he intended it, I am sure, not just as a kindness but also at least in part as the friendliest possible reproach, first for my neglect of the theory of games and its relevance to moral philosophy, and secondly for my remaining a utilitarian in spite of all the well-known arguments against that doctrine. The first fault I can readily acknowledge, and the book has helped me to begin to amend it. But in this essay I shall try to defend myself against the second reproach by showing that at any rate Professor Rescher’s arguments in chapter 5 of his book do nothing to impugn utilitarianism, provided that this is carefully formulated.

Freedom of the Will

Mr Hampshire has concentrated our attention on the problem, What is the import of the principle ‘“Ought” implies “can”’ ? In order to dig still deeper into this problem, I shall adopt a somewhat different procedure from the first two speakers, and inquire what it is about the word ‘ought’ that gives rise to this principle; this will perhaps enable us to see more clearly what sort of ‘can’ it is that ‘ought’ implies. If this inquiry seems sometimes to take me rather far afield, my excuse is, that the confusions which have beset the problem of free will are so deep-seated, that nothing short of a closer understanding of the nature of moral language will dispel them.

Austin’s Distinction between Locutionary and Illocutionary Acts

Towards the end of How to do Things with Words,1in what may be regarded as the final version of his doctrine (so far as anything in the book can be called final), Austin makes a threefold distinction between locutionary, illocutionary and perlocutionary acts. I shall not in this paper be saying much about the distinction between illocutionary and perlocutionary acts, which I have maintained elsewhere in other terms.2 I think it of great importance — which is not to say that it is entirely plain sailing; the neglect of this distinction has perhaps done more in recent years to confuse people, especially in ethics, than any other single mistake. However, I shall mention this distinction only in passing, and shall concentrate on the other, between locutionary and illocutionary acts — a distinction to which Austin attached equal importance, but which to me is so unclear that I am tempted to say that it cannot be sustained.