I shall begin by discussing two linked parts of Moore's philosophy, one of which is his method of dealing with certain philosophical para-doxes, the other his attitude toward Common Sense. These are particularly characteristic elements in Moore's thought and have exerted great influence upon, and yet at the same time perplexed other British philosophers. Later in this paper I shall pass from explicit discussion of Moore's views to a consideration of ways of treating philosophical paradoxes which might properly be deemed to be either interpretations or developments of Moore's own position.

First, Moore's way of dealing with philosopher's paradoxes. By

"philosopher's paradoxes" I mean (roughly) the kind of philosophical utterances which a layman might be expected to find at first absurd, shocking, and repugnant. Malcolm' gives a number of examples of such paradoxes and in each case specifies the kind of reason or proof which he thinks Moore would offer to justify his rejection of these paradoxical statements; Moore, moreover, in his "Reply to my Crit-ics" in the same volume, gives his approval, with one qualification, to Malcolm's procedure. I quote three of Malcolm's examples, together with Moore's supposed replies:

Example 1

Philosopher: "There are no material things."

Moore:

"You are certainly wrong, for here's one hand and here's

another; and so there are at least two material things."

1. Malcolm, "Moore and Ordinary Language," in The Philosophy of G. E. Moore, ed.

Schlipp.Example 2

Philosopher:

"Time is unreal."

Moore: "If you mean that no event can follow or precede another event, you are certainly wrong: for after lunch I went for a walk, and after that I took a bath, and after that I had tea."

Example 3

Philosopher: "We do not know for certain the truth of any statement about material things."

Moore: "Both of us know for certain that there are several chairs in this room, and how absurd it would be to suggest that we do not know it, but only believe it, and that perhaps it is not the case!"

Example 1 is an abbreviated version of perhaps the most famous application of Moore's technique (for dealing with paradoxes), that contained in his British Academy lecture "Proof of an External World." There he makes what amounts to the claim that the reply in Example 1 contains a rigorous proof of the existence of material things; for it fulfills the three conditions he lays down as being required of a rigorous proof: (a) its premise ("here's one hand and here's another") is different from the conclusion ("there are at least two material things"); (b) the speaker (Moore), at the time of speak-ing, knows for certain that the premise is true; and (c) the conclusion follows from the premise. Moore of course would have admitted that condition (c) is fulfilled only if "there are material things" is given one particular possible interpretation; he is aware that some philoso-phers, in denying the existence of material things, have not meant to deny, for example, that Moore has two hands; but he claims (quite rightly, I think) that the sentence "material things do not exist" has sometimes been used by philosophers to say something incompatible with its being true to say that Moore has two hands.

Now the technique embodied in the examples I have just quoted is sometimes regarded as being an appeal to Common Sense. Though it may, no doubt, be correctly so regarded in some sense of "Common Sense," I am quite sure that it is not an appeal to Common Sense as Moore uses the expression "Common Sense." In "A Defense of Common Sense"? Moore claims to know for certain the truth of a range of propositions about himself, similar in character to those asserted in the replies contained in my three examples, except that the propo-

2. Contemporary British Philosophy, vol. 2.sitions mentioned in the article are less specific than those asserted in the replies; and he further claims to know for certain that very many other persons have known for certain propositions about themselves corresponding to these propositions about himself. It is true that Moore rejects certain philosopher's paradoxes because they conflict with some of the propositions which Moore claims to know with certainty, and it is further true that Moore describes his position, in general terms, as being "that the 'Common Sense view of the world' is, in certain fundamental features, wholly true." But it is also clear that when Moore talks about Common Sense, he is thinking of a set of very generally accepted beliefs, and, for him, to "go against Common Sense" would be to contradict one or more of the members of this set of beliefs. Two points are here relevant. (1) Most of the propositions which serve as the premises of Moore's disproofs of paradoxical views are not themselves propositions of Common Sense (objects of Common Sense belief), for they are, standardly, propositions about individual people and things (e.g. Moore and hands), and obviously too few people have heard of Moore for there to be any very generally accepted beliefs about him. Of course, Moore's premises may justify some Common Sense beliefs, but that is not the point here. (2) In any case, it is quite clear that for Moore there is nothing sacrosanct about Common Sense beliefs as such; in the Defense he says (p. 207), "for all I know, there may be many propositions which may be properly called features in 'the Common Sense view of the world' or 'Common Sense belief' which are not true, and which deserve to be mentioned with the contempt with which some philosophers speak of 'Common Sense beliefs.'" And in Some Main Problems he cites propositions which were once, but have since ceased to be, Common Sense beliefs, and are now rejected altogether. So, if to describe Moore's technique as an appeal to Common Sense is to imply that in his view philosopher's paradoxes are to be rejected because they violate Common Sense (in Moore's sense of the term), then such a description is quite incorrect (it is, I think, fair to maintain that Moore's use of the term

"Common Sense" is not the ordinary one, in which a person who lacks Common Sense is someone who is silly or absurd; and this suggests a sense in which Moore does "appeal to Common Sense" in dealing with paradoxes, for he does often say or imply that the adoption of a paradoxical view commits one to some absurdity).

Now it is time to turn to the perplexity which Moore's technique has engendered. A quite common reaction to Moore's way with para-doxes has, I think, been to feel that it really can't be as easy as that, that Moore counters philosophical theses with what amounts to just a blunt denial, and that his "disproofs" fail therefore to carry convic-tion. As Malcolm observes, we tend to feel that the question has been begged, that a philosopher who denies that there are material objects is well aware that he is committed to denying the truth of such propositions as that Moore has two hands and so cannot be expected to accept the premise of Moore's proof of an external world. For Moore's technique to convince a philosophical rival, something more would have to be said about the point of Moore's characteristic ma-neuver; some account will have to be given of the nature of the absurdity to which a philosophical paradox allegedly commits its pro-pounder. Malcolm himself (loc. cit.) argues that such an account can be given; he represents Moore's technique as being a (concealed) way of showing that philosophical paradoxes "go against ordinary lan-guage" (say or imply that such ordinary expressions are absurd or meaningless), and argues that to do this is to commit an absurdity, indeed to involve oneself in contradiction. I shall enter into the details of this thesis later; at the moment I am only concerned with the question how far Moore's own work can properly be understood on the general lines which Malcolm suggests. I must confess it seems very doubtful to me whether it can. (1) Moore in his "Reply to My Crit-ics" neither accepts nor rejects Malcolm's suggestion; indeed he does not mention it, and it very much looks as if Malcolm's idea was quite new to him, and one which he needed time to consider. (2) Moore (loc. cit.) makes a distinction (in effect) between my Example 1 and my Example 3 (this is the qualification I mentioned earlier). He allows that one can prove that material objects exist by holding up one's hands and saying "Here is one hand and here is another"; but he does not allow that one can prove that one sometimes knows for certain the truth of statements about material things from such a premise as

"Both of us know for certain that there are chairs in this room." In his view, to say "We know for certain that there are chairs in this room, so sometimes one knows for certain the truth of propositions about material things" is to give not a "proof" but a "good argu-ment" in favor of knowledge about material things; it is a good argument but (he says) some further argument is called for, and in this case the need for further argument is said to be connected with the fact that many more philosophers have asserted that nobody knows that there are material things than have said that there are no materialthings. Now I find it very difficult to see how Moore can successfully maintain that Example 1 gives a proof of the existence of material things and yet that Example 3 does not give a proof of our knowledge of material things. (Can he deny that his three requirements for a rigorous proof are satisfied in this case?) But this is not the point I am concerned with here. What I wish to suggest is that for Moore's technique to be properly represented as being in all cases a concealed appeal to ordinary language, he would surely have had to have treated Example 1 and Example 3 alike, for the denial of knowledge about material things does not go against ordinary language any less than the denial of the existence of material things. It might well be, of course, that no satisfactory and comprehensive account can be given of Moore's procedure, and that an account in terms of the appeal to ordinary language fits what he is doing most of the time, and so perhaps shows what he was (more or less unconsciously) getting at or feeling after. But to say this is different from saying outright that the applications of his technique are appeals to ordinary language.

One or two passages in Some Main Problems in Philosophy indicate a different (or at any rate apparently different) procedure. I shall try to present, in connection with a particular example, a somewhat free version of the position suggested by the passages I have in mind Some philosophers have advanced the (paradoxical) thesis that we never know for certain that any inductive generalization is true, that inductive generalizations can at best be only probably true. Their acceptance of this thesis will be found to rest on a principle, in this case maybe some such principle as that for a proposition to be known with certainty to be true, it must either be a necessary truth or a matter of

"direct experience"

(in some sense) or be logically derivable from

propositions of one or the other of the first two kinds. But inductive generalizations do not fall under any of these heads, so they cannot be known with certainty to be true. The sort of maneuver Moore would make in response to such a thesis (e.g. "But of course we know for certain that the offspring of two human beings is always another human being") might be represented as having the following force:

"The principle on which your thesis depends is not self-evident, that is, it requires some justification; and since it is general in form, its acceptability will have to depend on consideration of the particular cases to which it applies; that is, the principle that all knowledge is of certain specified kinds will be refuted if there can be found a case of knowledge which is not of any of the specified kinds, and will beconfirmed if after suitably careful consideration, no such counter-example is forthcoming. But I have just produced a counterexample, a case of knowledge which is not of any of the specified kinds, and which, furthermore, is an inductive generalization. You cannot, without cheating, use the principle to discredit my counterexample, i.e. to argue that my specimen is not really a case of knowledge; if the principle depends on consideration of the character of the particular cases of knowledge, then it cannot be invoked to ensure that apparent counterexamples are not after all to be counted as cases of knowl-edge. If you are to discredit my counterexample it must be by some other method, and there is no other method." This line of attack could, of course, be applied mutatis mutandis, to other paradoxical philosophical theses.

I have a good deal of sympathy with the idea I have just outlined; in particular, it seems to me to bring out the way in which, primarily at least, I think philosophical theses should be tested, namely by the search for counterexamples. Moreover, I think it might prove effec-tive, in some cases, against the upholders of paradoxes. But I doubt whether a really determined paradox-propounder would be satisfied.

He might reply: "I agree that my principle that all knowledge is of one or another specified kind is not self-evident, but I do not have to justify it by the method you suggest, that of looking for possible coun-terexamples. I can justify it by a careful consideration of the nature of knowledge, and of the relation between knowledge and other linked concepts. Since I can do this, I can, without begging the ques-tion, use my principle to discredit your supposed counterexamples." The paradox-propounder might seek also to turn the tables on his opponent by adding, "You, too, are operating with a philosophical principle, namely a principle about how philosophical theses are to be tested; but the acceptability of your principle, too, will (in your view) have to depend on whether or not my own thesis about knowledge constitutes a counterexample; and to determine this question, you will have to investigate independently of your principle the legitimacy of the grounds upon which I rely." To meet this reply, I would have to anticipate the latter part of my paper; and in any case I suspect that in meeting it, I should exhibit the rationale of Moore's procedure as being after all only a particular version of the "appeal to ordinary language." So I shall pass on to discuss the efficacy of this way of dealing with paradoxes, without explicit reference to Moore's work.I can distinguish two different types of procedure in the face of a philosopher's paradox, each of which might count as being, in some sense, an appeal to ordinary language. Procedure 1 would seek to refute or dispose of paradoxes without taking into account what the paradox-propounders would say in elaboration or defense of their theses; these theses would simply be rebutted by the charge that they went against ordinary language, and this would be held sufficient to show the theses to be untenable, though of course a philosopher might well be required to do more than merely show the theses to be untenable. Procedure 2, on the other hand, would take into account what the paradox-propounder would say, or could be forced to say, in support of his thesis, and would aim at finding some common and at the same time objectionable feature in the positions of those who advance such paradoxes. Procedure 2, unlike Procedure 1, would not involve the claim that the fact that a thesis "went against" ordinary language was, by itself, sufficient to condemn it; I propose now to consider two versions of Procedure 1, to argue that at least as they stand, they are not adequate to silence a wide-awake opponent, or even to extract from him the reaction, "I see that you must be right, and yet...," and finally to consider Procedure 2.

My first version is drawn from Malcolm. In the form in which I state it, this procedure applies only against nonempirically based paradoxes; indeed, Malcolm does not make any distinction between different types of paradox and in effect seems to treat all philosophical paradoxes as if they were of the nonempirically based kind. The kernel of Malcolm's position seems to be as follows. The propounder of a paradox is committed to holding that the ordinary use of certain expressions (e.g. "Decapitation was the cause of Charles I's death") is (a) incorrect and (b) self-contradictory or absurd. But this contention is itself self-contradictory or absurd. For if an expression is an ordinary expression, that is, "has an ordinary (or accepted) use"— that is to say, if it is an expression which "would be used to describe situations of a certain sort if such situations existed or were believed to exist" —then it cannot be self-contradictory (or absurd). For a self-contradictory expression is one which would never be used to describe any situation, and so has no descriptive use. Moreover, if an expression which would be used to describe situations of a certain sort (etc.) is in fact on a given occasion used to describe that sort of situation, then it is on that occasion correctly used, for correct use is just standard use. It will be seen that Malcolm's charge against theparadoxes is that they go against ordinary language not by misdes-cribing its use (to do that would be merely to utter falsehoods, not absurdities) nor by misusing it (that would be merely eccentric or misleading) nor by ill-advisedly proposing to change it (that would be merely giving bad advice), but by flouting it, that is, admitting a use of language to be ordinary and yet calling it incorrect or absurd Furthermore, it will be seen that he attempts to substantiate his charge by consideration of what he takes to be the interrelation between the concepts of (a) ordinary use, (b) self-contradiction, and (c) correctness.

This version of Procedure 1 has three difficulties:

(1) The word "would," as it occurs in the phrase "expression which would be used to describe situations of a certain sort, if such situations existed or were believed to exist," seems to me to give rise to some trouble. The phrase I have just quoted might be taken as roughly equivalent to "expression which, given that a certain sort of situation had to be described, would be used." But this cannot be what Malcolm means; it is just not true that always or usually, when called upon to describe such a situation as a man's having lost his money, one would say "he has become a pauper." There are all sorts of things one would be more likely to say; yet presumably "he has become a pauper" is to be counted as an ordinary expression. It would be clearer perhaps to substitute, for the quoted phrase, the phrase "expression of which it would not be true to say that it would not be used to describe.." or more shortly "expression which might be used to describe.." Let us then take the original phrase in this sense. Now what about the sentence "Sometimes the ordinary use of language is incorrect" (which Malcolm says is self-contradictory)?

This sentence (or some other sentence to the same effect) no doubt has been uttered seriously by paradox-propounders, and it might well seem that they have used it to describe the situation they believed to obtain with regard to the use of ordinary language. Does it not then follow that this sentence is one of which it is untrue to say that it would not be used to describe a certain sort of situation, or more simply, that this sentence is one which might be used to describe a certain sort of situation; that is, the sentence is not self-contradictory?

If we can combine "has been used to describe" with "would not be used to describe" (and perhaps we can), then, at least, the sense of

"would not be used" seems to demand scrutiny. I suspect, however, that Malcolm himself would not admit the legitimacy of the combi-nation. He would rather say that the sentence in question has been uttered seriously, even perhaps has been "used," but has not been used to describe a certain sort of situation (just because it commits an absurdity); and so there is no difficulty in going on to say that it would not be used to describe any sort of situation, that is, is self-contradictory (and so nonordinary). This points the way to what seems to me a fundamental difficulty.

(2) I think Malcolm's opponent might legitimately complain that the question has been begged against him. For he might well admit that the expressions of which he complains are ordinary expressions, and even that they would be used to describe certain sorts of situation which the speaker believed to exist, but go on to say that the situations in question are (logically) impossible. This being so, the expressions are both ordinary and absurd. If he is ready in the first place to claim that an ordinary expression may be absurd, why should he jib at saying that an ordinary expression may be used to describe an impossible situation which the speaker mistakenly believes to exist?

Malcolm's argument can be made to work only if we assume that no situation which a sentence would ordinarily be used to describe would be an impossible situation, and to assume this is to assume the falsity of the paradox-propounder's position.

Alternatively, the paradox-propounder might agree that an ordinary expression of the kind which he is assailing (e.g. "Decapitation was the cause of Charles I's death") would be used to describe such a situation as that actually obtaining at Charles I's death (i.e., it would be used to describe an actual situation and not merely an impossible situation); but then he might add that the user of such an expression would not merely be describing this situation but also be committing himself to an absurd gloss on the situation (e.g. that Charles's decapitation willed his death), or again (much the same thing) that the user would indeed be merely describing this situation, but would be doing so in terms which committed him to an absurdity. And to meet this rejoinder by redefinition would again be to beg the question in Malcolm's favor.

The paradox-propounder might even concede that an expression which would be used to describe a certain sort of situation would be correctly used to describe a situation of that sort, provided that all that is implied is that it is common form to use this expression in this sort of situation; but nevertheless maintaining that the correctness of use (in this sense) would not guarantee freedom from contradiction or absurdity.Put summarily, my main point is that either Malcolm must allow that, in order to satisfy ourselves that an expression is "ordinary," we must first satisfy ourselves that it is free from absurdity (in which case it is not yet established that such an expression as "Decapitation caused Charles I's death" is an ordinary one), or he must use the word

"ordinary" in such a way that the sentence I have just mentioned is undoubtedly an ordinary expression, in which case the link between being ordinary and being free from absurdity is open to question.

(3) Is it in fact true that an ordinary use of language cannot be self-contradictory, unless the "ordinary use of language" is defined by stipulation as non-self-contradictory, in which case, of course, Malcolm's version of the appeal to ordinary language becomes useless against the philosopher's paradox? The following examples would seem to involve nothing but an ordinary use of language by any standard but that of freedom from absurdity. They are not, so far as I can see, technical, philosophical, poetic, figurative, or strained; they are examples of the sorts of things which have been said and meant by numbers of actual persons. Yet each is open, I think, at least to the suspicion of self-contradictoriness, absurdity, or some other kind of meaninglessness. And in this context suspicion is perhaps all one needs.

1. "He is a lucky person" ("lucky" being understood as disposi-tional). This might on occasion turn out to be a way of saying "He is a person to whom what is unlikely to happen is likely to happen."
2. "Departed spirits walk along this road on their way to Para-dise" (it being understood that departed spirits are supposed to be bodiless and imperceptible).
3. "I wish that I had been Napoleon" (which does not mean the same as "I wish I were like Napoleon"). "I wish that I had lived not in the XXth century but in the XVIIIth century."
4. "As far as I know, there are infinitely many stars." Of course, I do not wish to suggest that these examples are likely in the end to prove of much assistance to the propounder of para-doxes. All I wish to suggest is that the principle "The ordinary use of language cannot be absurd" is either trivial or needs justification.

Another, possibly less ambitious version of Procedure 1 might be represented as being roughly as follows. Every paradox comes down to the claim that a certain word or phrase (or type of word or phrase) cannot without linguistic impropriety or absurdity be incorporated (in a specified way) in a certain sort of sentence 1. For example, bearing in mind Berkeley, one might object to the appearance of the word"cause" as the main verb in an affirmative sentence the subject of which refers to some entity other than a spirit. The paradox-propounder will however have to admit that, if we were called on to explain the use of W to someone who was ignorant of it, we should not in fact hesitate to select certain exemplary sentences of type T which incorporated W, and indicate ostensively or by description typical sorts of circumstances in which such sentences would express truths. Now if it be admitted that such a mode of explanation of W's use is one we should naturally adopt, then it must also be admitted that it is a proper mode of explanation; and if it is a proper mode of explanation, how can a speaker who uses such an exemplary sen-tence, believing the prevailing circumstances to be of the typical kind, be guilty of linguistic impropriety or absurdity? You cannot obey the rules, and yet not obey them.

The paradox-propounder's reply might run on some such lines as these. If it were true that we always supposed the typical sorts of circumstances, to which reference is made in such an explanation of the meaning of a word, to be as they really are, and as observation or experience would entitle us to suppose, then the paradox would fall.

But it may be that in the case of some words (such as possibly

"cause") for some reason (perhaps because of a Hume-like natural disposition) we have a tendency to read more into the indicated typical situation than is really there, or than observation would entitle us to suppose to be there. Furthermore, the addition we make may be an absurdity. For instance, we might have a tendency to read into what the common sense philosopher would regard as typical causal transactions between natural objects or events the mistaken and absurd idea that something is willing something else to happen. If we do do this (and how is it shown that we do not?), then even though we use the word "cause" in just the kinds of situations indicated by model explanations of the word's meaning, we shall still have imported into our use of the word "cause" an implication which will make objectionable the application of the word to natural events.

Whenever we so apply the word "cause," what we say will imply an absurdity.

Let us ask how a philosophical paradox is standardly supported.

One standard procedure (and this is the only one I shall consider, though there may be other quite different methods) is to produce one or more alleged entailments or equivalences which, if accepted, would commit one to the paradox. For example, the philosopher who main-tains that only spirits can be causes might try to persuade us as fol-lows: if there is a cause, then there is action; if there is action, then there is an agent; if there is an agent, then there is a spirit at work; and there we are. This particular string of alleged entailments is not perhaps very appetizing, but obviously in other cases something more alluring can be provided. Now if we ask how the propounder of the paradox supposes it to be determined whether or not his entailments or equivalences hold, we obviously cannot reply that the question is to be decided in the light of the circumstances in which we apply the terms involved, for it is obvious that we do not restrict our application of the word "cause" to spirits, and if we did, then all suspicion of paradox would disappear. The paradox-propounder seemingly must attach special weight to what we say, or what we can be got to say, about the meaning or implication of such a word as "cause." In effect he asks us what we mean by "cause" or "know" (giving us some help) and then insists that our answers show what we do mean.

Leaving on one side for the moment the question why he does this and with what justification, let us consider the fact that the interpretation which he gives of such a word as "mean" seems to differ from the interpretation of that word which would be given by his oppo-nent. To differentiate between the two interpretations, let us use

"mean," as a label for the sense that the paradox-propounder attributes to the word "mean" (in which what a man says he means by a word is paramount in determining what he in fact does mean), and let us use "mean," as a label for the sense which the opponent of the paradox-propounder would attribute to the word "mean" (in which what a man means is, roughly speaking, determined by the way in which he applies the word). The paradox-propounder would say

"Cause' means (that is, means,) so and so," and his opponent would say "'Cause' means (that is, means,) such and such." Now it seems that the dispute between them cannot be settled without settling the divergence between them with regard to the word "mean." Can this divergence be settled? It seems to be difficult, for if the paradox-propounder claims that "mean" means (that is, "mean,") and his opponent claims that "mean" means (that is, "mean,"), then we seem to have reached an impasse. And it is likely that this would in fact be the situation between them.

But then we might reflect that the dispute between them, in becoming unsettlable, has evaporated. For the paradox-propounder is going to say "Certain ordinary utterances are absurd because what (in cer-tain circumstances) we say that we mean by them is absurd, but these can be replaced by harmless utterances which eradicate this absurdity, and the job of philosophical analysis is to find these replacements," while his opponent is going to say "No ordinary utterances are ab-surd, though sometimes what we say we mean by them is absurd, and the job of philosophical analysis is to explain what we really do mean by them." Does it matter which way we talk? The facts are the same.

I do not feel inclined to rest with this situation, and fortunately there seem to be two ways out of it, in spite of the apparent deadlock:

(1) I suspect that some philosophers have assumed or believed that

"mean" means "mean" (that what a man says he means is paramount in determining what he does mean) because they have thought of

"meaning so and so" as being the name of an introspectible experi-ence. They have thought a person's statements about what he means have just the same kind of incorrigible status as a person's statements about his current sensations, or about the color that something seems to him to have at the moment. It seems to me that there are certainly some occasions when what a speaker says he means is treated as specially authoritative. Consider the following possible conversations between myself and a pupil:

Myself: "I want you to bring me a paper tomorrow."

Pupil: "Do you mean that you want a newspaper or that you want

a piece of written work?"

Myself: "I mean 'a piece of written work?"

It would be absurd at this point for the pupil to say "Perhaps you only think, mistakenly, that you mean 'a piece of written work," whereas really you mean 'a newspaper. And this absurdity seems like the absurdity of suggesting to someone who says he has a pain in his arm that perhaps he is mistaken (unless the suggestion is to be taken as saying that perhaps there is nothing physically wrong with him, however his arm feels). It is important to notice that although there is this point of analogy between meaning something and having a pain, there are striking differences. A pain may start and stop at specifiable times; equally something may begin to look red to one at 2:00 р.м. and cease to look red to one at 2:05 p.M. But it would be absurd for my pupil (in the preceding example) to say to me "When did you begin to mean that?" or "Have you stopped meaning it yet?" Again there is no logical objection to a pain arising in any set of concomitant sentences; but it is surely absurd to suppose that I mightfind myself meaning that it is raining when I say "I want a paper"; indeed, it is odd to speak at all of "my finding myself meaning so and so," though it is not odd to speak of my finding myself suffering from a pain. At best, only very special circumstances (if any) could enable me to say "I want a paper," meaning thereby that it is raining. In view of these differences, we may perhaps prefer to label such statements as "I mean a piece of written work" (in the conversation with my pupil) as "declarations" rather than as "introspection reports." Such statements as these are perhaps like declarations of intention, which also have an authoritative status in some ways like and in some ways unlike that of a statement about one's own current pains.

But the immediately relevant point with regard to such statements about meaning as the one I have just been discussing is that, insofar as they have the authoritative status which they seem to have, they are not statements which the speaker could have come to accept as the result of an investigation or of a train of argumentation. To revert to the conversation with my pupil, when I say "I mean a piece of written work," it would be quite inappropriate for my pupil to say

"How did you discover that you meant that?" or "Who or what convinced you that you meant that?" And I think we can see why a

"meaning" statement cannot be both specially authoritative and also the conclusion of an argument or an investigation. If a statement is accepted on the strength of an argument or an investigation, it always makes sense (though it may be foolish) to suggest that the argument is unsound or that the investigation has been improperly conducted; and if this is conceivable, then the statement maker may be mistaken, in which case, of course, his statement has not got the authoritative character which I have mentioned. But the paradox-propounder who relies on the type of argumentation I have been considering requires both that a speaker's statement about what he means should be specially authoritative and that it should be established by argumenta-tion. But this combination is impossible.

(2) A further difficulty for the paradox-propounder is one which is linked with the previous point. There is, I hope, a fairly obvious distinction (though also a connection) between (a) what a given expression means (in general), or what a particular person means in general by a given expression, and (b) what a particular speaker means, or meant, by that expression on a particular occasion; (a) and (b) may clearly diverge. I shall give examples of the ways in which such divergence may occur. (1) The sentence "I have run out of fuel" means ingeneral (roughly) that the speaker has no material left with which to propel some vehicle which is in his charge; but a particular speaker on a particular occasion (given a suitable context) may be speaking figuratively and may mean by this sentence that he can think of nothing more to say. (2) "Jones is a fine fellow" means in general that Jones has a number of excellences (either without qualification or perhaps with respect to some contextually indicated region of conduct or performance); but a particular speaker, speaking ironically, may mean by this sentence that Jones is a scoundrel. In neither of these examples would the particular speaker be giving any unusual sense to any of the words in the sentences; he would rather be using each sentence in a special way, and a proper understanding of what he says involves knowing the standard use of the sentence in question.

(3) A speaker might mean, on a particular occasion, by the sentence

"It is hailing" what would standardly be expressed by the sentence

"It is snowing" either if he had mislearned the use of the word "hail-ing" or if he thought (rightly or wrongly) that his addressee (perhaps because of some family joke) was accustomed to giving a private significance to the word "hailing." In either of these cases, of course, the speaker will be using some particular word in a special nonstandard sense.

These trivial examples are enough, I hope, to indicate the possibility of divergence between (a) and (b). But (a) and (b) are also con-nected. It is, I think, approximately true to say that what a particular speaker means by a particular utterance (of a statement-making char-acter) on a particular occasion is to be identified with what he intends by means of the utterance to get his audience to believe (a full treatment would require a number of qualifications which I do not propose to go into now). It is also, I think, approximately true to say that what a sentence means in general is to be identified with what would standardly be meant by the sentence by particular speakers on particular occasions; and what renders a particular way of using a sentence standard may be different for different sentences. For example, in the case of sentences which do not contain technical terms it is, I think, roughly speaking, a matter of general practice on nonspecial occa-sions; such sentences mean in general what people of some particular group would normally mean by using them on particular occasions (this is, of course, oversimplified). If this outline of an elucidation of the distinction is on the right lines, then two links may be found be-tween (a) and (b). First, if I am to mean something by a statement-making utterance on a particular occasion-that is, if I intend by means of my utterance to get my audience to believe something—1 must think that there is some chance that my audience will recognize from my utterance what it is they are supposed to believe; and it seems fairly clear that the audience will not be able to do this unless it knows what the general practice, or what my practice, is as regards the use of this type of utterance (or unless I give it a supplementary explanation of my meaning on this occasion). Second (and ob-viously), for a sentence of a nontechnical character to have a certain meaning in general, it must be the case that a certain group of people do (or would) use it with that meaning on particular occasions.

I think we can confront my paradox-propounder with a further difficulty (which I hope will in the end prove fatal). When he suggests that to say "* (a natural event) caused y" means (wholly or in part)

"x willed y," does he intend to suggest that particular speakers use the sentence "x caused y" on particular occasions to mean (wholly or in part) "x willed y" (that this is what they are telling their audience, that this is what they intend their audience to think)? If he is suggesting this, he is suggesting something that he must admit to be false.

For part of his purpose in getting his victim to admit "x caused y" means (in part at least) "x willed y" to get his victim to admit that he should not (strictly) go on saying such things as that "x caused y" just because of the obvious falsity or absurdity of part of what it is supposed to mean; and he is relying on his victim's not intending to induce beliefs in obvious falsehoods or absurdities. However, if he is suggesting that "x caused y" means in general (at least in part) "x willed y," even though no particular speaker ever means this by it (or would mean this by it) on a particular occasion, then he is accepting just such a divorce between the general meaning of a sentence and its particular meaning on particular occasions as that which I have been maintaining to be inadmissible.

In conclusion, I should like to remind you very briefly what in this paper I have been trying to do. I have tried to indicate a particular class of statements which have been not unknown in the history of philosophy, and which may be described as being (in a particular sense) paradoxes. I have considered a number of attempts to find a general principle which would serve to eliminate all such statements, independently of consideration of the type of method by which they would be supported by their propounders. I have suggested that it isdifficult to find any principle which will satisfactorily perform this task, though I would not care to insist that no such principle can be found, nor to deny that further elaboration might render satisfactory one or another of the principles which have been mentioned. I have considered a specimen of what I suspect is one characteristic method in which a paradox-propounder may support his thesis (though this may not be the only method which paradox-propounders have used); and finally I have tried to show that the use of this method involves its user in serious (indeed I hope fatal) difficulties. H. P. Grice.