You said:

what would be your favourite version of his paragraph, without preamble or ps?

Agent mode said:

Copilot

It was in the wider setting of the class, as Oxonians called the lecture-duty attached to a Common University Fund appointment, that Grice began to play more openly with the fundamental question raised by this stronger sense of reason. Was he becoming too much of a rationalist for Oxford ears? Was he, indeed, in danger of sounding Kantian? The lecture-room was not the most hospitable setting in which to press such matters to completion. Unlike the intimacy of the tutorial, the class inhibited any rich reciprocal exchange between lecturer and audience. It is therefore not surprising that this aspect of Grice’s theory remained, at that stage, somewhat open-ended.

You said:

I added a paragraph -- let me have your input -- thank you: H. P. Grice and J. L. Speranza J. L. Speranza encountered Grice not as his personal tutorial fellow in philosophy – which was, of course, a good thing. Knowing Speranza, had THAT been the case, it would most likely have meant that Speranza would have shown no interest in Grice at all! Still, THAT was Grice’s claim to glory: from 1938 to 1967 that was the post he held: Fellow and Tutor in Philosophy, St. John’s, Oxford. One need not be pedantic here, but the ‘and’ – in ‘Fellow and Tutor in Philosophy’ – is relevant: the more familiar expression ‘Tutorial Fellow in Philosophy’ may be used – and used to contrast that capacity with other sorts of fellows – professional fellows, for example – hides the fact that his capacity was partly administrative – as member of the Governing Body of Fellows – AND that his ‘justification’ within the St. John’s ecology was that he was allotted a room where he could execute the duties of Tutor in Philosophy along with the only other such fellow at the time: the Scots J. D. Mabbott. By the time J. L. Speranza encountered Grice, Grice was already the Canon in the right way – neither Grice or Speranza would say ‘the right sense’ – ‘senses are not to be multiplied beyond necessity.’ In the continental philosophical fashion, centred around ‘chairs’ – it was within the ‘chair in the philosophy of language’ where Grice belonged – with one big caveat: Grice’s work on ‘Meaning’ came ALWAYS first – it showed the type of sophisticated analysis that would appeal to any philosopher interested in the key topic of the philosophy of language; Grice’s work on conversational implicature came second – if at all! In the academic world where Speranza moved, Grice proved to Speranza to be particularly useful in providing solutions to well-known paradoxes in the whole gamut of philosophy. Grice’s analysis of ‘Meaning,’ – Speranza’s centrepiece – invited some re-formulations in Speranza’s terms: for example, the centring on an ‘exhibitive’ versus a ‘protreptic’ view of ‘communication,’ and the positing of the ‘willing’ element over the ‘judging’ element which Grice retains as a ‘question of personal preference’ in work attached to his ‘semiotic theory.’ At this point, Speranza was familiar with some developments in doxastics – as he calls the logic of belief – and Speranza was indeed pleased to see that such symbolism is used casually by Grice in ‘Vacuous Names’. Using an operator for ‘W’ – to stand for ‘wanting’ – but which Speranza here construes in the most general way to apply to any conatitive state, Grice is allowing for the use of subscripts: WAp (“A wants that p”). Speranza having been enchanted by Toulmin’s and Peacocke’s – and indeed Grice’s (“Presupposition and conversational implicature,” foonote on Hans Shuga [sic] – Speranza was not going to allow “p” to do the whole work --. Foreshadowing the inconvenices that Grice found in the treatment of definite descriptions in the work of his tutee Strawson, Speranza was thus ready to expand that WAp to read WA(ιx.Ax & Bx). But of course, Speranza knew at what Grice was aiming at – and Speranza indeed could feel what Grice was after when in his ‘Meaning,’ meant to be read, and read, at the Oxford Philosophical Society – and only later, and prompted by others – to the point of type-writing it and submitting for publication --. ‘Meaning’ is exploratory, and Speranza caught that immediately. In terms of the symbology expressed above, it was not merely an agent A that wills that ix.Ax & Bx – but the sort of convolutedness that incorporates the role of the ‘addressee’ – much better term that ‘audience,’ that Grice may occasionally use in informal contexts --. So the paradigmatic case becomes one where the ‘that’-clause does not involve ix.Ax & Bx at all but what A’s addressee – let us symbolise that as B – will PRIMARILY THINK. In symbols, now using “V” for ‘voliting’ and “J” for judicating: the basic form is VAJB(ix.Ax & Bx). Already in that exploratory ‘Meaning,’ Grice makes a further interesting point – whose cruciality Speranza well perceived as Speranza placed himself in the Oxford of the the late 1940s when that talk on ‘Meaning’ was given: ‘reason’ versus ‘cause’ – or rather ‘cause’ (more primitive) AND ‘reason’. Speranza felt the need to make explicit this distinction formally, and would use the bended arrow. The way it works in Grice is simple enough: the recognition (a form of judcation) of the utterer’s intention (a form of volition) should be the REASON, and not merely the case, for further ‘propositional’ or ‘psychological’ attitudes on the part of the addressee. In symbols VAJB(ix.Ax & Bx) -> JBVAJB(ixAx & Bx). Speranza was especially pleased when he noted that Grice had taken into account a problem-example by J. O. Urmson in this context – and it is indeed the only philosopher Grice quotes when re-visiting what Grice rather pompously called the section against the alleged NECESSITY (not sufficiency) of his account of ‘Meaning,’ which Speranza by this time was treating already as touching on the philosophical concept of ‘communication.’ Grice does not elaborate on the original problem-example offered by Urmson – other than by way of topic – it involved a case of ‘bribery.’ Speranza was comforted to see that Grice’s original exploratory account in ‘Meaning’ was receiving positive, constructive, feedback from a man of almost Grice’s generation, another Tutorial Fellow in Philosophy, who happened to share the alma mater of Corpus Christi at Oxford. Urmson would himself not present himself as an ‘expert’ on the matter, which made it all the more delightful to Speranza: these dons were discussing ‘communication’ among themselves, not caring about what the rest of the world may think about it --, as Grice cares to credit to problem-example to Urmson ‘in conversation.’ The SECOND problem-example – now involving the SUFFICIENCY of the analysans – came to Speranza with a different reaction. It involved Grice’s formal tutee – and Speranza felt for Grice in one important respect. For if a tutee prompts a former tutor to make more accessible (in ways in which perhaps the tutor would not wised) his exploratory ‘Meaning’ – what is the ethical point of presenting a problem example after that? Speranza’s only consolation came from Grice’s generous reaction – he treated the problem example – the ‘infested rat’—seriously enough – but not too seriously to require any further modification of the necessity, just the sufficiency – and Grice’s way out was clever – a mere anti-sneak clause which is recursive alla Peano at its best: let the proposed analysis be a conjunction: VAJBVA(ixAx & Bx) and VAJBVA(ixAx & Bx)  JBVAJB(ix.Ax & Bx) --, i. e. the protreptic versus exhibitive clause along with the reason-granting clause – to which the anti-sneak clause merely amounts that is the extra self-referential clause that (A) be out there in the open: i. e. that VAJBVA(A). The meaning-nominalist strategy had been successfully pursued so now Speranza could move to deeper waters – especially, delighted as he was when he got to the ‘Prolegomena’ – the conference by Grice where he explains his rationale and underlying motivation for ‘Logic and Conversation’ – and Speranza felt fortunate for having the philosophical background and formation akin to Grice and which Speranza felt was necessary to appreciate the depth of that ‘implicature’ – or ‘implicatura’ as Speranza would have it – proposal. There distinction merely ‘boiled’ down to a division of ‘explicitness’ – the implication is more like an ‘implicitation’ and the whole paraphernalia can be traced back to cases of communication. To use one of Grice’s own it is important to combine this with a second important methodological constraint. Grice proposes himself and those who are willing to follow him seriously, to engage in a EXTENDED UNIT of analysis: the two- or four-conversational move conversation. His example: A: Are we playing squash tonight? B displays bandaged leg. Grice’s gloss: B means he cannot play squash. There is nothing ‘said’ – so in this case the ‘implicatura’ is not something beyond what is said – it is just what B is communicating – i. e. meaning, suggesting, indicating, and so on. The way his examples which operate under a proposed ‘imperative of conversational helpfulness’ are not different in kind from the above – which makes no ‘technical’ use of a ‘technical’ term of art, such as ‘implicature,’ on which usually the non-philosophical mind is focused. However, what the move entails for Grice is a further expansion of his earlier allusion to ‘reason’ in a basic act of communication – the addresse’s response as reason- rather than cause-governed. The distinction becomes one between what A has EXPLICITLY conveyed – to use Toulsmin’s example, ‘that the cat is on the mat’ – may need to be expanded into what A IS IMPLICITLY conveying – ‘So feel free to take her to the vet.’ The details of the reason-giving norms are not the crux for Grice’s analysis – and indeed, as need to expand onto his ‘Fellow and Tutor in philosophy at St. John’s. He is now also a CUF University Lecturer in Philosophy: his stint to give a quota of lectures – and it is in this lectures – aimed not at his ‘intimate’ tutees in his small room at St. John’s, -- but at Examinations Hall for any member of the university to attend – that he played with all different variations of desiderata and principles and imperatives as expected in ‘conversation’ conduced by ‘decent chaps.’ It is in the wider context of the ‘class’ – as Oxonians refer to the ‘stint’ which is their quota as ‘Common Fund University’ Lecture in philosophy – that Grice would play with the ‘fundamental question’ about this stronger sense of ‘reason’ – is he being too much of a rationalist for the Oxonian ear? Is he indeed being, God forbid, Kantian? The ‘class’ environment inhibits any kind of rich interaction between the lecturer and his ‘audience’ – so it is not surprising that this aspect of his theory remained open-ended. At this point, the philosopher who is paying attention may have an open fork of roads behind him: explore ways in which such open-ended questions can be solved, or be realistic and realise that H. P. Grice is now HISTORY OF PHILOSOPHY. And as such, a more fruitful approach would be to ‘introject’ in his shoes as he review his career. When Grice was appointed a Fellow and Tutor in Philosophy at St. John’s he was the only one to come from a ‘public-school’ setting – Clifton – and that mattered. Clifton had brought him to Corpus via a classics scholarship and he pursued the Mods and the Greats which were the only want to get to philosophy in the Sub-Faculty of Philosophy, a branch of the overall Faculty of Literae Humaniores. It is interesting that after getting a double greats, he left for Rossall. His teaching post in classics did not last long, but the important thing is as what he then saw: a classics schoolmaster. He came back to Oxford thanks to a different scholarship: a senior scholarship of the newly instituted Harmsworth fund, which entailed two years of more or less intensive study in philosophy at Oxford’s oldest philosophy site: Merton – Work on ‘Negation and privation’ may be dated to this period. After one year as ‘probatory’ college lecturer at St. John’s, he was eventually appointed ‘Fellow and Tutor in philosophy,’ as the Oxford Gazette put it, to relieve the burden on Mabbott’s shoulders. War declared, Grice did not mobilise until 1940 – after draftin his ‘Personal identity’ submitted to Mind and published in 1941. The war was not just the war, but it got Grice into ‘intelligence’ games --. Back in Oxford, he was ready to deliver the talk on ‘Meaning’ in 1948. The next year he proposed a ‘class’ on ‘Intention and disposition’ and had perhaps the bad idea of letting his ideas circulate: the result: the fellow dons did not mince their words – but Grice, who had presented a profile of a non-reductionist in ‘Negation and privation’ (an account along introspective psychological lines) or ‘Personal identity’ and indeed ‘Meaning’ could now tackle Ryle directly, and call his account in ‘The Concept of Mind’ silly. The waves of pre-war Ayer did not touch Grice, and the ‘analytic’ vein run deep in him. Comparing the opening paragraph of ‘Personal identity’ with that of ‘Meaning’ we witness the same approach: some problematic examples that need a ‘logical construction’ in terms other than themselves – indeed the same in ‘Negation and privation.’ The 1940s came and went, an by the 1950s Grice had the rather misfortune of being associated with the senior J. L. Austin. In fact, this is how Speranza encountered Grice. Everybody with a minimal interest in the development of the philosophy of language in the twentieth century knew what Austin was after: the ‘ordinary-language philosophy’ (Grice would avoid ‘school’) as different from Ryle’s – and with it came the list of those who attended the ‘Saturday mornings.’ In SOME historical accounts of the period – say, by Passmore – Grice is indeed mentioned as a don who would publish amazingly little but was influential in his ways. The interactions with his former tutee Strawson proved in some ways unfortunate. The ‘In defence of a dogma’ has Grice as primary author but it was the co-author who had his wife typed it and submitted. More in Grice’s vein was his accepting the invitation by D. F. Pears to open a series of BBC third programme lectures in ‘metaphysics,’ which were eventually published. Here Grice is again primary author, but not to a secondary author, but to a secondary author (Strawson) and a TERTIARY author (Pears), so one can see that Grice’s reserve perseveres. He is not the type to be promoting himself and stuff. By the end of the 1950s Austin was gone, and the idea, a bit lunatic, by Grice, was to keep the thing going with the Saturday mornings – it didn’t quite work. The Master was gone, long live the master. Instead, Grice TURNED to Austin. Austin had been giving seminars on Sense and Sensibilia, and the first contribution by Grice, Austin gone, and the second, were on the area: ‘The Causal Theory of Perception’ (co-symposiast at Cambridge) in 1961 and ‘Some remarks about the senses’ in 1962 in a volume commissioned by Blackwell. That was the whole written production of Grice at Oxford. – The rest is commentary: his responses to Strawson on ‘definite description’, his tribute to Quine in ‘Vacuous names’, the long-awaited lecture on his having been appointed a FBA in 1971 with ‘Intention and uncertainty’ and the John Locke lectures at Oxford usually appointed to a non-resident, as Grice at that time was not. He never went back to the topic of conversation and meaning – on his own ‘Meaning revisited’ was commissioned by Brighton, and lecture series followed in the new world. Perhaps it was in 1987 with his ‘Retrospective Epilogue’ that he felt it was his turn to expand freely on what he had been aiming to do. Intersetingly, in the Epilogue, the discussion of ‘communication’ (Strand V) precedes that of Conversation as Rational Co-Operation (Strand V). The moral is clear: the over-emphasised fame on the implicature had cast a shadow on what he always thought to be a more core and kernel topic on which a philosopher, even an Oxford one, should be interested: communication first (both explicit – or ‘dictive’ as he would say, using a Latinism – and implicit), ‘rational constraints’ of the most common-sense nature second. Adherence to common sense, which pervades BOTH his intention-based ‘semantics’ and his ‘implicature’ theory would hardly been regarded by Grice as a minus, but a plus – the plus of a man, who did not go to philosophy for his bread and butter, but because he enjoyed it.

Agent mode said:

Copilot

This is the most ambitious addition so far, and in many ways the most interesting. It changes the scale of the piece. Up to this point, you had been tracing Speranza’s interest in Grice through a sequence of conceptual engagements. Here you pivot into something more nearly biographical and historiographical: a retrospective reconstruction of Grice’s own path, career, institutional milieu, and posthumous place. That is potentially a very strong move.

What I think is strongest in it is: the explicit fork you introduce between solving Gricean problems and treating Grice as history of philosophy the decision to “introject” oneself into Grice’s shoes and review the career from within the sketch of Grice’s trajectory from Clifton to Corpus to Rossall to Merton to St. John’s the emphasis on the continuity between Negation and Privation, Personal Identity, and Meaning the observation that Grice’s reputation became distorted by over-emphasis on implicature at the expense of communication more broadly the final characterisation of Grice as a philosopher of common sense who pursued philosophy out of enjoyment rather than professional self-promotion

That is all excellent and, in fact, gives the essay a stronger ending than the earlier purely conceptual sequence could have done.

My main reservation is that this paragraph is carrying enough material for three or four paragraphs. At present it feels more like compressed notes for a section than a finished paragraph. The ideas are often very good, but the pacing is too dense for the reader to absorb them fully. I would strongly recommend splitting it at least into three movements:

first, the methodological turn: At this point, the reader must decide whether to continue solving Gricean problems or to treat Grice historically and retrospectively.

second, the compressed career sketch: Clifton, Corpus, Rossall, Harmsworth, Merton, St. John’s, war, Meaning, Intention and Disposition, Ryle, Austin.

third, the retrospective judgement: the distortion of Grice’s fame through implicature and the primacy of communication in the Retrospective Epilogue.

There are also some local issues of wording: open fork of roads behind him is vivid but slightly awkward; perhaps before him as he review his career should be as he reviews his career or as one reviews his career only want to get to philosophy should be only way draftin should be drafting the analytic vein run deep should be ran deep the rather misfortune should be the rather curious misfortune or simply the misfortune reserve perseveres should probably be reserve persists Intersetingly should be Interestingly Strand V precedes that of Conversation as Rational Co-Operation (Strand V) seems to repeat the same strand number; this may need checking would hardly been regarded should be would hardly have been regarded

My strongest conceptual suggestion is this: the paragraph becomes much more powerful if you treat it as a transition from Speranza-on-Grice to Grice-in-history. Right now that transition is present, but buried. It should be made explicit and then followed by a cleaner retrospective sequence.

If I were shaping it in your style while keeping its breadth, I would probably begin something like this:

At this point, the attentive philosopher may feel that the road forks. One path would continue the attempt to solve the open problems Grice left behind. The other, perhaps the more realistic, would recognise that H. P. Grice now belongs to the history of philosophy, and that the more fruitful task is to place oneself, as far as one can, within the perspective from which he reviewed his own career.

That, to me, is the key sentence in the new addition. Everything after it can then be organised more deliberately.

The biographical sequence itself is rich, but it should probably be broken into shorter units. For example: one paragraph on Clifton, Corpus, Rossall, Harmsworth, and the early philosophical formation one paragraph on St. John’s, war, Meaning, and the Ryle confrontation one paragraph on Austin, Strawson, Pears, the sparse Oxford publication record, and the later retrospective judgement

The ending is especially good in substance. The idea that communication comes first, and that implicature has overshadowed the more central concern, is exactly the kind of thesis that can give the whole essay shape. I would preserve that almost at all costs.

So my overall judgment is: this is one of the most valuable additions yet, but it is not yet one paragraph. It is the draft of a new section. Its value lies in its breadth and its final thesis, but it needs segmentation and tightening before the reader can fully appreciate it.

If you want, I can now do one of two things in chat: I can give you my favourite rewritten version of just the opening portion of this new addition, beginning “At this point...” or I can divide the whole new addition into three or four clean paragraphs and recast them in the same voice you have been developing.

You said:

So, without preamble or ps, what would be your favourite version of the paragraph?

Agent mode said:

Copilot

At this point, the attentive philosopher may feel that the road forks. One path would continue the effort to solve the open questions Grice left behind; the other, perhaps the more realistic, would recognise that H. P. Grice now belongs to the history of philosophy. From that perspective, the more fruitful task is to place oneself, as far as one can, within the standpoint from which he might review his own career.

You said:

Can you provide a more detailed version of your favourite version -- from the 'fork' segment -- to the listing of his oeuvre, and the conclusion? thanks

Agent mode said:

Copilot

At this point, the attentive philosopher may feel that the road forks. One path would continue the effort to solve the open questions Grice left behind; the other, perhaps the more realistic, would recognise that H. P. Grice now belongs to the history of philosophy. From that perspective, the more fruitful task is to place oneself, as far as one can, within the standpoint from which he might review his own career.

Seen in that light, Grice’s path acquires a particular coherence. When he was appointed Fellow and Tutor in Philosophy at St. John’s, he brought with him a formation that was already somewhat unusual within that setting. He came from Clifton, the only public-school background among his immediate circle there, and Clifton had led him to Corpus on a classics scholarship. The route to philosophy at Oxford then still ran through the Literae Humaniores curriculum, through Mods and Greats, and Grice took that route in full. After taking a double first, he spent a brief period at Rossall, teaching classics, and that episode matters because it shows how close he remained, at that stage, to the figure of the classics schoolmaster. His return to Oxford, under the newly established Harmsworth senior scholarship, gave him two more concentrated years of philosophy, largely at Merton, where work such as “Negation and Privation” properly belongs. After a year as a probationary lecturer at St. John’s, he was appointed Fellow and Tutor in Philosophy, in part to relieve Mabbott of the burden he had hitherto borne more or less alone.

War intervened, though not before Grice had drafted “Personal Identity,” published in Mind in 1941. The war years did more than interrupt an academic career: they sharpened habits of intelligence, interpretation, and indirection that would remain recognisably Gricean thereafter. When he returned to Oxford, he was ready, by 1948, to read “Meaning” to the Oxford Philosophical Society. In retrospect, that paper appears as the germ of much that followed. The next year, in proposing a class on “Intention and Disposition,” Grice allowed his ideas to circulate more widely, and the response from fellow dons was by no means indulgent. Yet this too matters. For by then Grice had already shown, in “Negation and Privation,” “Personal Identity,” and “Meaning,” a marked resistance to easy reductionism and a willingness to construct analyses in terms other than those furnished by the problematic expressions themselves. It is in that spirit too that he could later confront Ryle directly and dismiss aspects of The Concept of Mind as silly. The pre-war wave of Ayer never quite carried him away; the analytic vein in Grice ran deeper and in a different channel.

By the 1950s, however, Grice had acquired the slightly awkward fate of being associated, in the wider philosophical memory, with J. L. Austin. In one sense this was inevitable. Anyone with even a modest interest in twentieth-century philosophy of language knew what Austin stood for, and the Saturday mornings had already entered Oxford legend. In some historical accounts, such as Passmore’s, Grice appears as one of those dons who published remarkably little and yet exerted unmistakable influence. That picture is not false, but it is incomplete. The collaboration with Strawson on “In Defence of a Dogma,” though important, was not wholly characteristic of Grice’s own habits; even there, the mechanics of preparation and submission were more Strawsonian than Gricean. More revealing was his willingness to accept Pears’s invitation to inaugurate a series of Third Programme talks on metaphysics, which were later published. There too one senses Grice’s reserve: he is present, even primary, but never self-advertising. He was not made to promote himself.

Austin’s death altered the Oxford scene decisively. Grice briefly entertained the almost quixotic hope of keeping the Saturday mornings alive, but that world could not simply be prolonged by force of will. Instead, he turned toward themes Austin had himself left charged, above all those surrounding perception. “The Causal Theory of Perception” and “Some Remarks about the Senses” belong here, as does the broader Oxford effort to reckon with Austin after Austin. If one were to list Grice’s written Oxford oeuvre in the strict sense, it would remain surprisingly small: “Negation and Privation,” “Personal Identity,” “Meaning,” “In Defence of a Dogma,” “The Causal Theory of Perception,” and “Some Remarks about the Senses,” with ancillary pieces such as “Vacuous Names” and later interventions on definite descriptions and intention. The smallness of the list is itself revealing. Grice’s influence was never proportional to the bulk of his publications.

What followed belongs to a different phase: the British Academy lecture “Intention and Uncertainty,” the Locke Lectures, the American years, and eventually the more retrospective mode of “Meaning Revisited” and the Epilogue to Studies in the Way of Words. It may well have been only then, late in the day, that Grice permitted himself to say more openly what he had long been trying to do. And here Speranza’s instinct proves especially sound. For in the Epilogue the strand on communication precedes that on conversation as rational co-operation. The order is not accidental. The later fame of implicature had cast too long a shadow over what was, for Grice, the more central matter: communication first, both explicit and implicit; the rational constraints that govern conversational exchange only thereafter. That those constraints are, in the end, constraints of common sense would not have embarrassed Grice in the least. On the contrary, it would have confirmed something essential about him. His intention-based semantics and his theory of implicature alike are pervaded by an allegiance to common sense, and he would have counted that not as a philosophical deficiency but as a strength. It was the strength of a man who did not turn to philosophy for professional ornament or even for bread and butter, but because he found in it an activity worth pursuing for its own sake.