{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/wikisource_An_Outline_of_Philosophy_Chapter_4/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/wikisource_An_Outline_of_Philosophy_Chapter_4","id":"wikisource_An_Outline_of_Philosophy_Chapter_4","license":"Public Domain / CC-BY-SA (see source)","rights_basis":"wikisource_site_inclusion_policy","source":"wikisource","source_url":"https://en.wikisource.org/wiki/An_Outline_of_Philosophy/Chapter_4","summary":null,"tags":["Headers_applying_DefaultSort_key","Subpages"],"text":"CHAPTER IV\n\nLANGUAGE\n\nThe subject of language is one which has not been studied\nwith sufficient care in traditional philosophy. It was taken\nfor granted that words exist to express \"thoughts\", and\ngenerally also that \"thoughts\" have \"objects\" which are\nwhat the words \"mean\". It was thought that, by means of\nlanguage, we could deal directly with what it \"means\", and\nthat we need not analyse with any care either of the two\nsupposed properties of words, namely that of \"expressing\"\nthoughts and that of \"meaning\" things. Often when\nphilosophers intended to be considering the objects meant\nby words they were in fact considering only the words, and\nwhen they were considering words they made the mistake\nof supposing, more or less unconsciously, that a word is a\nsingle entity, not, as it really is, a set of more or less similar\nevents. The failure to consider language explicitly has\nbeen a cause of much that was bad in traditional philosophy.\nI think myself that \"meaning\" can only be understood if\nwe treat language as a bodily habit, which is learnt just as\nwe learn football or bicycling. The only satisfactory way\nto treat language, to my mind, is to treat it in this way, as\nDr. Watson does. Indeed, I should regard the theory of\nlanguage as one of the strongest points in favour of\nbehaviourism.\n\nMan has various advantages over the beasts, for example,\nfire, clothing, agriculture, and tools\u2014not the possession of\ndomestic animals, for ants have them. But more important\nthan any of these is language. It is not known how or when language arose, nor why chimpanzees do not speak. I doubt\nif it is even known whether writing or speech is the older\nform of language. The pictures made in caves by the Cro-Magnon men may have been intended to convey a meaning,\nand may have been a form of writing. It is known that\nwriting developed out of pictures, for that happened in\nhistorical times; but it is not known to what extent pictures\nhad been used in prehistoric times as a means of giving\ninformation or commands. As for spoken language, it differs\nfrom the cries of animals in being not merely an expression\nof emotion. Animals have cries of fear, cries expressing\npleasure in the discovery of food, and so on, and by means\nof these cries they influence each other's actions. But they\ndo not appear to have any means of expressing anything\nexcept emotions, and then only emotions which they are\nactually feeling. There is no evidence that they possess\nanything analogous to narrative. We may say, therefore,\nwithout exaggeration, that language is a human prerogative,\nand probably the chief habit in which we are superior to\nthe \"dumb\" animals.\n\nThere are three matters to be considered in beginning\nthe study of language. First: what words are, regarded as\nphysical occurrences; secondly, what are the circumstances\nthat lead us to use a given word; thirdly, what are the\neffects of our hearing or seeing a given word. But as\nregards the second and third of these questions, we shall\nfind ourselves led on from words to sentences and thus\nconfronted with fresh problems, perhaps demanding rather\nthe methods of Gestaltpsychologie.\n\nOrdinary words are of four kinds: spoken, heard, written,\nand read. It is of course largely a matter of convention that\nwe do not use words of other kinds. There is the deaf-and-dumb language; a Frenchman's shrug of the shoulders is a\nword; in fact, any kind of externally perceptible bodily\nmovement may become a word, if social usage so ordains. But\nthe convention which has given the supremacy to speaking\nis one which has a good ground, since there is no other way\nof producing a number of perceptibly different bodily movements so quickly or with so little muscular effort. Public\nspeaking would be very tedious if statesmen had to use the\ndeaf-and-dumb language, and very exhausting if all words\ninvolved as much muscular effort as a shrug of the shoulders.\nI shall ignore all forms of language except speaking, hearing,\nwriting, and reading, since the others are relatively unimportant and raise no special psychological problems.\n\nA spoken word consists of a series of movements in the\nlarynx and the mouth, combined with breath. Two closely\nsimilar series of such movements may be instances of the\nsame word, though they may also not be, since two words\nwith different meanings may sound alike; but two such\nseries which are not closely similar cannot be instances of\nthe same word. (I am confining myself to one language.)\nThus a single spoken word, say \"dog\", is a certain set of\nclosely similar series of bodily movements, the set having\nas many members as there are occasions when the word\n\"dog\" is pronounced. The degree of similarity required\nin order that the occurrence should be an instance of the\nword \"dog\" cannot be specified exactly. Some people say\ndawg\", and this must certainly be admitted. A German\nmight say \"tok\", and then we should begin to be doubtful.\nIn marginal cases, we cannot be sure whether a word has\nbeen pronounced or not. A spoken word is a form of\nbodily behaviour without sharp boundaries, like jumping or\nhopping or running. Is a man running or walking? In a\nwalking-race the umpire may have great difficulty in deciding. Similarly there may be cases where it cannot be\ndecided whether a man has said \"dog\" or \"dock\". A\nspoken word is thus at once general and somewhat vague.\n\nWe usually take for granted the relation between a word\nspoken and a word heard. \"Can you hear what I say?\"\nwe ask, and the person addressed says \"yes\". This is of\ncourse a delusion, a part of the na\u00efve realism of our unreflective outlook on the world. We never hear what is\nsaid; we hear something having a complicated causal connection with what is said. There is first the purely physical\nprocess of sound-waves from the mouth of the speaker to the ear of the hearer, then a complicated process in the ear\nand nerves, and then an event in the brain, which is related\nto our hearing of the sound in a manner to be investigated\nlater, but is at any rate simultaneous with our hearing of\nthe sound. This gives the physical causal connection between the word spoken and the word heard. There is,\nhowever, also another connection of a more psychological\nsort. When a man utters a word, he also hears it himself,\nso that the word spoken and the word heard become intimately associated for anyone who knows how to speak.\nAnd a man who knows how to speak can also utter any word\nhe hears in his own language, so that the association works\nequally well both ways. It is because of the intimacy of\nthis association that the plain man identifies the word\nspoken with the word heard, although in fact the two are\nseparated by a wide gulf.\n\nIn order that speech may serve its purpose, it is not\nnecessary, as it is not possible, that heard and spoken words\nshould be identical, but it is necessary that when a man\nutters different words the heard words should be different,\nand when he utters the same word on two occasions the\nheard word should be approximately the same on the two\noccasions. The first of these depends upon the sensitiveness of the ear and its distance from the speaker; we cannot\ndistinguish between two rather similar words if we are too\nfar off from the man who utters them. The second condition depends upon uniformity in the physical conditions,\nand is realised in all ordinary circumstances. But if the\nspeaker were surrounded by instruments which were resonant to certain notes but not to certain others, some tones\nof voice might carry and others might be lost. In that\ncase, if he uttered the same word with two different intonations, the hearer might be quite unable to recognise\nthe sameness. Thus the efficacy of speech depends upon\na number of physical conditions. These, however, we will\ntake for granted, in order to come as soon as possible to the\nmore psychological parts of our topic.\n\nWritten words differ from spoken words in being material structures. A spoken word is a process in the physical\nworld, having an essential time-order; a written word is a\nseries of pieces of matter, having an essential space-order.\nAs to what we mean by \"matter\", that is a question with\nwhich we shall have to deal at length at a later stage. For\nthe present it is enough to observe that the material structures which constitute written words, unlike the processes\nthat constitute spoken words, are capable of enduring for a\nlong time\u2013sometimes for thousands of years. Moreover,\nthey are not confined to one neighbourhood, but can be\nmade to travel about the world. These are the two great\nadvantages of writing over speech. This, at least, has been\nthe case until recently. But with the coming of radio\nwriting has begun to lose its pre-eminence: one man can\nnow speak to multitudes spread over a whole country. Even\nin the matter of permanence, speech may become the equal\nof writing. Perhaps, instead of legal documents, we shall\nhave gramophone records, with voice signatures by the\nparties to the contract. Perhaps, as in Wells's When the Sleeper Awakes, books will no longer be printed but merely\narranged for the gramophone. In that case the need for\nwriting may almost cease to exist. However, let us return\nfrom these speculations to the world of the present day.\n\nThe word read, as opposed to the written or printed\nword, is just as evanescent as the word spoken or heard.\nWhenever a written word, exposed to light, is in a suitable\nspatial relation to a normal eye, it produces a certain complicated effect upon the eye; the part of this process which\noccurs outside the eye is investigated by the science of light,\nwhereas the part that occurs in the eye belongs to physiological optics. There is then a further process, first in the\noptic nerve and afterwards in the brain; the process in the\nbrain is simultaneous with vision. What further relation it\nhas to vision is a question as to which there has been much\nphilosophical controversy; we shall return to it at a later\nstage. The essence of the matter, as regards the causal\nefficacy of writing, is that the act of writing produces quasi-permanent material structures which, throughout the whole of their duration, produce closely similar results upon all\nsuitably placed normal eyes; and as in the case of speaking,\ndifferent written words lead to different read words, and the\nsame word written twice leads to the same read word\u2014again with obvious limitations.\n\nSo much for the physical side of language, which is\noften unduly neglected. I come now to the psychological\nside, which is what really concerns us in this chapter.\n\nThe two questions we have to answer, apart from the\nproblems raised by sentences as opposed to words, are:\nFirst, what sort of behaviour is stimulated by hearing a\nword? And secondly, what sort of occasion stimulates us to\nthe behaviour that consists in pronouncing a word? I put\nthe questions in this order because children learn to react\nto the words of others before they learn to use words them-\nselves. It might be objected that, in the history of the race,\nthe first spoken word must have preceded the first heard\nword, at least by a fraction of a second. But this is not\nvery relevant, nor is it certainly true. A noise may have\nmeaning to the hearer, but not to the utterer; in that case it\nis a heard word but not a spoken word. (I shall explain\nwhat I mean by \"meaning\" shortly.) Friday's footprint\nhad \"meaning\" for Robinson Crusoe but not for Friday.\nHowever that may be, we shall do better to avoid the very\nhypothetical parts of anthropology that would be involved,\nand take up the learning of language as it can be observed\nin the human infant of the present day. And in the human\ninfant as we know him, definite reactions to the words of\nothers come much earlier than the power of uttering words\nhimself.\n\nA child learns to understand words exactly as he learns\nany other process of bodily association. If you always say\n\"bottle\" when you give a child his bottle, he presently\nreacts to the word \"bottle\", within limits, as he formerly\nreacted to the bottle. This is merely an example of the law\nof association which we considered in the preceding chapter.\nWhen the association has been established, parents say that\nthe child \"understands\" the word \"bottle\", or knows what the word \"means\". Of course the word does not have all\nthe effects that the actual bottle has. It does exert gravita-\ntion, it does not nourish, it cannot bump on to the child's\nhead. The effects which are shared by the word and the\nthing are those which depend upon the law of association or\n\"conditioned reflexes\" or \"learned reactions\". These may\nbe called \"associative\" effects or \"mnemic\" effects-the\nlatter name being derived from Semon's book Mneme, in\nwhich he traces all phenomena analogous to memory to a\nlaw which is, in effect, not very different from the law of\nassociation or \"conditioned reflexes\".\n\nIt is possible to be a little more precise as to the class\nof effects concerned. A physical object is a centre from\nwhich a variety of causal chains emanate. If the object is\nvisible to John Smith, one of the causal chains emanating\nfrom it consists first of light-waves (or light-quanta) which\ntravel from the object to John Smith's eye, then of events\nin his eye and optic nerve, then of events in his brain, and\nthen (perhaps) of a reaction on his part. Now mnemic\neffects belong only to events in living tissue; therefore only\nthose effects of the bottle which happen either inside John\nSmith's body, or as a result of his reaction to the bottle, can\nbecome associated with his hearing the word \"bottle\". And\neven then only certain events can be associated: nourishment\nhappens in the body, yet the word \"bottle\" cannot nourish.\nThe law of conditioned reflexes is subject to ascertainable\nlimitations, but within its limits it supplies what is wanted\nto explain the understanding of words. The child becomes\nexcited when he sees the bottle; this is already a conditioned reflex, due to experience that this sight precedes a\nmeal. One further stage in conditioning makes the child\ngrow excited when he hears the word \"bottle\". He is then\nsaid to \"understand\" the word.\n\nWe may say, then, that a person understands a word\nwhich he hears if, so far as the law of conditioned reflexes\nis applicable, the effects of the word are the same as those\nof what it is said to \"mean\". This of course only applies to words like \"bottle\", which denote some concrete object\nor some class of concrete objects. To understand a word\nsuch as \"reciprocity\" or \"republicanism\" is a more complicated matter, and cannot be considered until we have\ndealt with sentences. But before considering sentences we\nhave to examine the circumstances which make us use a\nword, as opposed to the consequences of hearing it used.\n\nSaying a word is more difficult than using it, except in\nthe case of a few simple sounds, which infants make before\nthey know that they are words, such as \"ma-ma\" and\n\"da-da\". These two are among the many random sounds\nthat all babies make. When a child says \"ma-ma\" in the\npresence of his mother by chance she thinks he knows what\nthis noise means, and she shows pleasure in ways that are\nagreeable to the infant. Gradually, in accordance with\nThorndike's law of effect, he acquires the habit of making\nthis noise in the presence of his mother, because in these\ncircumstances the consequences are pleasant. But it is only\na very small number of words that are acquired in this way.\nThe great majority of words are acquired by imitation,\ncombined with the association between thing and word\nwhich the parents deliberately establish in the early stages\n(after the very first stage). It is obvious that using words\noneself involves something over and above the association\nbetween the sound of the word and its meaning. Dogs\nunderstand many words, and infants understand far more\nthan they can say. The infant has to discover that it is\npossible and profitable to make noises like those which he\nhears. (This statement must not be taken quite literally, or\nit would be too intellectualistic.) He would never discover\nthis if he did not make noises at random, without the\nintention of talking. He then gradually finds that he can\nmake noises like those which he hears, and in general the\nconsequences of doing so are pleasant. Parents are pleased,\ndesired objects can be obtained, and\u2014perhaps most important of all\u2014there is a sense of power in making intended\ninstead of accidental noises. But in this whole process there\nis nothing essentially different from the learning of mazes by rats. It resembles this form of learning, rather than that\nof K\u00f6hler's apes, because no amount of intelligence could\nenable the child to find out the names of things\u2014as in the\ncase of the mazes, experience is the only possible guide.\n\nWhen a person knows how to speak, the conditioning\nproceeds in the opposite direction to that which operates\nin understanding what others say. The reaction of a person\nwho knows how to speak, when he notices a cat, is naturally\nto utter the word \"cat\"; he may not actually do so, but he\nwill have a reaction leading towards this act, even if for some\nreason the overt act does not take place. It is true that he\nmay utter the word \"cat\" because he is \"thinking\" about a\ncat, not actually seeing one. This, however, as we shall see\nin a moment, is merely one further stage in the process of\nconditioning. The use of single words, as opposed to\nsentences, is wholly explicable, so far as I can see, by the\nprinciples which apply to animals in mazes.\n\nCertain philosophers who have a prejudice against\nanalysis contend that the sentence comes first and the single\nword later. In this connection they always allude to the\nlanguage of the Patagonians, which their opponents, of\ncourse, do not know. We are given to understand that a\nPatagonian can understand you if you say \"I am going to\nfish in the lake behind the western hill\", but that he cannot\nunderstand the word \"fish\" by itself. (This instance is\nimaginary, but it represents the sort of thing that is asserted.)\nNow it may be that Patagonians are peculiar\u2014indeed they\nmust be, or they would not choose to live in Patagonia.\nBut certainly infants in civilised countries do not behave in\nthis way, with the exception of Thomas Carlyle and Lord\nMacaulay. The former never spoke before the age of three,\nwhen, hearing his younger brother cry, he said, \"What ails\nwee Jock?\" Lord Macaulay \"learned in suffering what he\ntaught in song\", for, having spilt a cup of hot tea over\nhimself at a party, he began his career as a talker by saying\nto his hostess, after a time, \"Thank you, Madam, the agony\nis abated\". These, however, are facts about biographers,\nnot about the beginnings of speech in infancy. In all children that have been carefully observed, sentences come\nmuch later than single words.\n\nChildren, at first, are limited as to their power of producing sounds, and also by the paucity of their learned\nassociations. I am sure the reason why \"ma-ma\" and\n\"da-da\" have the meaning they have is that they are sounds\nwhich infants make spontaneously at an early age, and are\ntherefore convenient as sounds to which the elders can\nattach meaning. In the very beginning of speech there is\nnot imitation of grown-ups, but the discovery that sounds\nmade spontaneously have agreeable results. Imitation\ncomes later, after the child has discovered that sounds can\nhave this quality of \"meaning\". The type of skill involved\nis throughout exactly similar to that involved in learning to\nplay a game or ride a bicycle.\n\nWe may sum up this theory of meaning in a simple\nformula. When through the law of conditioned reflexes, A\nhas come to be a cause of C, we will call A an \"associative\"\ncause of C, and C an \"associative\" effect of A. We shall\nsay that, to a given person, the word A, when he hears it,\nmeans\" C, if the associative effects of A are closely similar\nto those of C; and we shall say that the word A, when he\nutters it, \"means\" C, if the utterance of A is an associative\neffect of C, or of something previously associated with C.\nTo put the matter more concretely, the word \"Peter\" means\na certain person if the associative effects of hearing the\nword \"Peter\" are closely similar to those of seeing Peter,\nand the associative causes of uttering the word \"Peter\" are\noccurrences previously associated with Peter. Of course as\nour experience increases in complexity this simple schema\nbecomes obscured and overlaid, but I think it remains\nfundamentally true.\n\nThere is an interesting and valuable book by Messrs.\nC. K. Ogden and I. A. Richards, called The Meaning of Meaning. This book, owing to the fact that it concentrates\non the causes of uttering words, not on the effects of hearing\nthem, gives only half the above theory, and that in a somewhat incomplete form. It says that a word and its meaning have the same causes. I should distinguish between active\nmeaning, that of the man uttering the word, and passive\nmeaning, that of the man hearing the word. In active\nmeaning the word is associatively caused by what it means\nor something associated with this; in passive meaning, the\nassociative effects of the word are approximately the same\nas those of what it means.\n\nOn behaviourist lines, there is no important difference\nbetween proper names and what are called \"abstract\" or\n'generic\" words. A child learns to use the word \"cat\",\nwhich is general, just as he learns to use the word \"Peter\",\nwhich is a proper name. But in actual fact \"Peter\" really\ncovers a number of different occurrences, and is in a sense\ngeneral. Peter may be near or far, walking or standing or\nsitting, laughing or frowning. All these produce different\nstimuli, but the stimuli have enough in common to produce\nthe reaction consisting of the word \"Peter\". Thus there\nis no essential difference, from a behaviourist point of view,\nbetween \"Peter\" and \"man\". There are more resemblances between the various stimuli to the word \"Peter\nthan between those to the word \"man\", but this is only a\ndifference of degree. We have no names for the fleeting\nparticular occurrences which make up the several appearances of Peter, because they are not of much practical\nimportance; their importance, in fact, is purely theoretic\nand philosophical. As such, we shall have a good deal to\nsay about them at a later stage. For the present, we notice\nthat there are many occurrences of Peter, and many occurrences of the word \"Peter\"; each, to the man who sees\nPeter, is a set of events having certain similarities. More\nexactly, the occurrences of Peter are causally connected,\nwhereas the occurrences of the word \"Peter\" are connected\nby similarity. But this is a distinction which need not\nconcern us yet.\n\nGeneral words such as \"man or cat\" or \"triangle\"\nare said to denote \"universals\", concerning which, from\nthe time of Plato to the present day, philosophers have\nnever ceased to debate. Whether there are universals, and, if so, in what sense, is a metaphysical question, which need\nnot be raised in connection with the use of language. The\nonly point about universals that needs to be raised at this\nstage is that the correct use of general words is no evidence\nthat a man can think about universals. It has often been\nsupposed that, because we can use a word like \"man\"\ncorrectly, we must be capable of a corresponding \"abstract\nidea\" of man, but this is quite a mistake. Some reactions\nare appropriate to one man, some to another, but all have\ncertain elements in common. If the word \"man\" produces\nin us the reactions which are common but no others, we\nmay be said to understand the word \"man\". In learning\ngeometry, one acquires the habit of avoiding special interpretations of such a word as \"triangle\". We know that,\nwhen we have a proposition about triangles in general, we\nmust not think specially of a right-angled triangle or any\none kind of triangle. This is essentially the process of\nlearning to associate with the word what is associated with\nall triangles; when we have learnt this, we understand the\nword \"triangle\". Consequently there is no need to suppose\nthat we ever apprehend universals, although we use general\nwords correctly.\n\nHitherto we have spoken of single words, and among\nthese we have considered only those that can naturally be\nemployed singly. A child uses single words of a certain\nkind before constructing sentences; but some words pre-\nsuppose sentences. No one would use the word \"paternity\"\nuntil after using such sentences as \"John is the father of\nJames\"; no one would use the word \"causality\" until\nafter using such sentences as \"the fire makes me warm\".\nSentences introduce new considerations, and are not quite\nso easily explained on behaviourist lines. Philosophy, however, imperatively demands an understanding of sentences,\nand we must therefore consider them.\n\nAs we found earlier, all infants outside Patagonia begin\nwith single words, and only achieve sentences later. But\nthey differ enormously in the speed with which they advance\nfrom the one to the other. My own two children adopted entirely different methods. My son first practised single\nletters, then single words, and only achieved correct sentences\nof more than three or four words at the age of two and three\nmonths. My daughter, on the contrary, advanced very\nquickly to sentences, in which there was hardly ever an error.\nAt the age of eighteen months, when supposed to be sleeping, she was overheard saying to herself: \"Last year I used\nto dive off the diving-board, I did\". Of course \"last\nyear\" was merely a phrase repeated without understanding.\nAnd no doubt the first sentences used by children are always\nrepetitions, unchanged, of sentences they have heard used\nby others. Such cases raise no new principle not involved\nin the learning of words. What does raise a new principle\nis the power of putting together known words into a sentence which has never been heard, but which expresses\ncorrectly what the infant wishes to convey. This involves\nthe power to manipulate form and structure. It does not\nof course involve the apprehension of form or structure in\nthe abstract, any more than the use of the word \"man\"\ninvolves apprehension of a universal. But it does involve\na causal connection between the form of the stimulus and\nthe form of the reaction. An infant very soon learns to be\ndifferently affected by the statement \"cats eat mice\" from\nthe way he would be affected by the statement \"mice eat\ncats\"; and not much later he learns to make one of these\nstatements rather than the other. In such a case, the cause\n(in hearing) or the effect (in speaking) is a whole sentence.\nIt may be that one part of the environment is sufficient to\ncause one word, while another is sufficient to cause another,\nbut it is only the two parts in their relation that can cause\nthe whole sentence. Thus wherever sentences come in we\nhave a causal relation between two complex facts, namely\nthe fact asserted and the sentence asserting it; the facts as\nwholes enter into the cause-and-effect relation, which cannot\nbe explained wholly as compounded of relations between\ntheir parts. Moreover, as soon as the child has learned to\nuse correctly relational words, such as \"eat\", he has become\ncapable of being causally affected by a relational feature of the environment, which involves a new degree of complexity\nnot required for the use of ordinary nouns.\n\nThus the correct use of relational words, i.e. of sentences,\ninvolves what may be correctly termed \"perception of\nform\", i.e. it involves a definite reaction to a stimulus which\nis a form. Suppose, for example, that a child has learnt to\nsay that one thing is \"above\" another when this is in fact\nthe case. The stimulus to the use of the word \"above\" is\na relational feature of the environment, and we may say that\nthis feature is \"perceived\" since it produces a definite\nreaction. It may be said that the relation above is not very\nlike the word \"above\". That is true; but the same is true\nof ordinary physical objects. A stone, according to the\nphysicists, is not at all like what we see when we look at it,\nand yet we may be correctly said to \"perceive\" it. This,\nhowever, is to anticipate. The definite point which has\nemerged is that, when a person can use sentences correctly,\nthat is a proof of sensitiveness to formal or relational stimuli.\n\nThe structure of a sentence asserting some relational fact,\nsuch as \"this is above that\", or \"Brutus killed Caesar\"\ndiffers in an important respect from the structure of the fact\nwhich it asserts. Above is a relation which holds between\nthe two terms \"this\" and \"that\"; but the word \"above\"\nis not a relation. In the sentence the relation is the tem-\nporal order of the words (or the spatial order, if they are\nwritten), but the word for the relation is itself as substantial\nas the other words. In inflected languages, such as Latin,\nthe order of the words is not necessary to show the \"sense\"\nof the relation; but in uninflected languages this is the only\nway of distinguishing between \"Brutus killed Caesar\" and\n\"Caesar killed Brutus\". Words are physical phenomena,\nhaving spatial and temporal relations; we make use of these\nrelations in our verbal symbolisation of other relations,\nchiefly to show the \"sense\" of the relation, i.e. whether it\ngoes from A to B or from B to A.\n\nA great deal of the confusion about relations which has\nprevailed in practically all philosophies comes from the\nfact, which we noticed just now, that relations are indicated, not by other relations, but by words which, in themselves, are just like other words. Consequently, in thinking about relations, we constantly hover between the unsubstantiality of the relation itself\nand the substantiality of the word. Take, say, the fact that lightning precedes thunder. If we were to express this by a language closely reproducing the structure of the fact, we should have to say\nsimply: \"lightning, thunder\", where the fact that the first word precedes the second means that what the first word means precedes what the second word means. But even if we adopted this method\nfor temporal order, we should still need words for all other relations, because we could not without intolerable ambiguity symbolise them also by the order of our words. All this will be important to remember when we come to consider the structure of the world, since nothing but a preliminary study of language will preserve us from being misled by language in our metaphysical\nspeculations.\n\nThroughout this chapter I have said nothing about the narrative and imaginative uses of words; I have dealt with words in connection with an immediate sensible stimulus closely connected with\nwhat they mean. The other uses of words are difficult to discuss until we have considered memory and imagination. In the present chapter I have confined myself to a behaviouristic explanation of\nthe effects of words heard as stimuli, and the causes of words spoken when the words apply to something sensibly present. I think we shall find that other uses of words, such as the narrative and\nimaginative, involve only new applications of the law of association. But we cannot develop this theme until we have discussed several further psychological questions.","title":"An Outline of Philosophy/Chapter 4","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":5422}