The Instrumental Value of Truth

I wrote this paper for a class on "Truth" while completing my MA in Philosophy.  This was submitted on May 9, 2011 and remains as I submitted it (apart from formatting changes).
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We generally take it to be a good thing for people to have true beliefs and a bad thing for people to have false beliefs.  As such, it would seem that true beliefs are valuable and therefore truth is valuable.  But what does it mean to value truth?  Furthermore, what sort of value does truth have?  Both of these questions are addressed by Paul Horwich and Michael Lynch, and though they differ with regard to the nature of truth, they give fairly similar answers to these two questions.  Horwich believes that what it means to value truth is given by the VT principle: “it is desirable to believe what is true and only what is true” (Horwich, “The Value” 347).  Lynch offers a similar principle called TE: “it is prima facie good that one believes all and only what is true” (Lynch, “The Values” 226).  These and other characterizations express the same basic idea that it is good or desirable to believe what is true and bad or undesirable to believe what is not true.  But is this goodness intrinsic or extrinsic?  If truth has intrinsic value, then its value is inherent; it is valuable for its own sake apart from any of our goals (e.g., ethical, aesthetic, hedonistic) and desirable even when it conflicts with these goals (Horwich, Truth 62).  On the other hand, if truth has extrinsic value, then its value is externally determined.  One such extrinsic value is instrumental value, and if truth has instrumental value, it is valuable insofar as it helps us to achieve other ends.  If it does not help us achieve these ends, then it lacks instrumental value.  Both Horwich and Lynch take truth to always have intrinsic value even when it lacks instrumental value.  On the contrary, I will defend the view that truth does not have intrinsic value.  Instead, truth is only instrumentally valuable and so not all true beliefs are valuable.  I will consider the arguments that Horwich and Lynch put forward to defend their claim, offer criticisms, and provide reasons for believing that truth is only instrumentally valuable.

 Why should we believe that truth is more than instrumentally good and hence intrinsically valuable?  Both Horwich and Lynch propose many reasons.  First, Horwich claims that people generally believe that knowledge is valuable for its own sake.  He writes, “there is widespread sentiment to the effect that certain items of knowledge are desirable regardless of any practical use to which someone might decide to put them” (Horwich, “The Value” 351).  However, Horwich himself offers an instrumental explanation for why this is the case.  He claims, “it is presumably because most truths are useful in practical inference … that our society, simplifying for the sake of effectiveness, inculcates a general concern for truth for its own sake… [This explains] our tendency to believe that there is such a fact [that truth is valuable for its own sake]” (Horwich, “The Value” 351).  But if this is true, then we have no reason to take the supposed fact that most people believe knowledge to be valuable for its own sake as support for the claim that truth is intrinsically valuable.

Second, Lynch claims that “there are times in most of our lives when we simply want to know for no other reason than the knowing itself” (Lynch, “Minimalism” 502).  Thus, truth is often sought for its own sake without considering practical concerns and so it must have intrinsic value.  Furthermore, since truth can be sought for its own sake, one can justify many types of academic inquiry such as “ancient history, metaphysics, and esoteric areas of mathematics – fields that may not be expected to have any pragmatic payoff” (Horwich, “The Value” 351).  Horwich believes that such fields of inquiry are obviously justified, and since they could only be justified if truth were intrinsically valuable, truth must have intrinsic value. 

However, one can simply deny that such fields of inquiry are justified in this way.  For example, researchers in each of these fields enjoy their work and so it satisfies their interests and the interests of those who follow their work.  Similarly, satisfying our various curiosities brings us pleasure and so it is not without practical value.  Furthermore, contrary to Horwich’s assumption, these fields of inquiry do have practical value beyond a mere satisfaction of interests.  Most researchers take themselves to be pursuing inquiry that is practically useful or may in the future turn out to be so.  For example, ancient history teaches us about ourselves and from its lessons we can act more wisely in our own day.  Metaphysics seeks to understand what the world fundamentally is like and the various answers it gives do have practical implications (e.g., I should live my life one way if God exists and another way if God does not exist).  Finally, many once esoteric areas of mathematics have been discovered to practically apply to other fields (e.g., physics, computer science).  Thus, it seems that one can justify each of these fields of inquiry, and our supposedly non-practical curiosity, by reference to purely instrumental considerations.  Thus, truth need not be intrinsically valuable.

Third, Lynch claims that “unless truth has more than instrumental value, there would be nothing wrong with believing trivial falsehoods… [But] the falsity of a proposition is in fact a terminal objection to believing it” (Lynch, “Minimalism” 502).  Lynch is not claiming that it is morally wrong to believe a false proposition.  Instead, the supposed wrongness of believing a false proposition has to do with epistemic or cognitive wrongness.  Lynch takes the purpose of our cognitive capacities to be the attainment of truth for the sake of truth.  He writes, “truth is a goal of inquiry in the sense of being a proper end of our epistemic practices” (Lynch, “The Values” 226).  Since our epistemic practices are properly aimed at truth, then it is “correct” to believe true and only true propositions (Lynch, “The Values” 228).  Thus, beliefs are properly evaluated, that is, judged to be correct or incorrect, only with regard to whether or not they are true.

However, this view seems too narrow.  Given what we know about our evolutionary past, it seems that the purpose of our cognitive capacities is not to attain truth for its own sake, but to attain truth for our sake.  That is, the function of our cognitive capacities may be to attain truth, but as part of a larger biological system, they are ultimately ordered to helping us survive and flourish in our environment.  So while a belief may be “correct” with regard to our cognitive capacities alone because it accords with the truth, it may not be correct or best for us with regard to our surviving and flourishing which is its ultimate end. 

Such a claim seems incompatible with Lynch’s insistence that inquiry (i.e., trying to figure out what to believe) can only be understood as aiming at true beliefs (Lynch, “The Values” 230).  He writes that “an activity whose aims don’t include true belief isn’t bad inquiry: it is not inquiry at all” (Lynch, “The Values” 238).  Lynch suggests that instead such practices would be akin to “wishful thinking” since the epistemic agent would not be aiming at the truth (Lynch, “The Values” 239). But the person that takes truth to only be instrumentally valuable can accept this claim.  One can say that the agent who is engaging in inquiry and seeking the truth is doing so for instrumental reasons.  However, when not aiming at the truth, one may not be engaging in inquiry, but one is still using one’s cognitive capacities correctly with regard to their overall function within the larger system.  Such rationalization or selective justification may be criticized from the standpoint of ideal rationality.  But such rationality is not always ideal for our overall wellbeing and this is what our cognitive capacities are supposed to serve. 

Lynch even seems to concede as much by admitting in a footnote that beliefs are only prima facie correct since there may be other norms operating on belief.  “Justification and rationality, for example, are normative, and they operate over belief.  Moreover, they can conflict with the norm of truth – what is justified isn’t always true.  Nor is believing what is false always irrational” (Lynch, “The Values” 228).  But if this is the case, then in accordance with my argument above, one can have “correct” beliefs that are not true since the norm of truth may be defeated by other norms.

This criticism can also be brought out by another claim Lynch makes.  When considering whether inquiry itself is valuable, he admits that he cannot give a non-circular answer since doing so would presuppose the value of inquiry: the question “asks us to provide an epistemic reason, an argument, and a justification for the practice of giving reasons, arguments, and justifications.  And that obviously can’t be done, for those activities are constitutive of inquiry, whose aim is the formation of true beliefs” (Lynch, “The Value” 239).  But there is no need to appeal to an epistemic reason when one can justify inquiry by instrumental reasons.  Clearly, inquiry is generally very useful in helping us to achieve our aims because having true beliefs related to our goals will help us to satisfy these goals.  So it seems that inquiry is justified by its ability to help us acquire true beliefs related to practical aims and not justified for its own sake.  If it were, we should be doing wrong by ceasing to engage in inquiry in any circumstance and this is not true.  I only do wrong if I cease inquiry in certain circumstances (e.g., I am liable for the knowledge such inquiry would achieve).  Thus, contrary to Lynch’s claim that a proposition’s being false is a terminal reason to reject it and hence truth is intrinsically valuable, it is possible to have “correct” beliefs that are not true, and this correctness relates to their instrumental value.

Fourth, both Horwich and Lynch claim that that our intuition that it would be good to know all things as God does supports the claim that truth is intrinsically valuable.  Horwich writes that we are inclined “to think that a ‘perfect being’ would be omniscient” (Horwich, “The Value” 357).  Lynch similarly claims that “it is prima facie good to be omniscient… it is good to be God, as it were” (Lynch, “The Values” 226).  However, this claim is at least equally and perhaps better supported by saying that truth is only instrumentally valuable. [1]  Consider the traditional formulation of a perfect being as being all good, all powerful, and all knowing.  If that being was not all good, then we wouldn’t value its having all knowledge since such knowledge could be used for evil.  Similarly, if that being was not all powerful, then such a being could not use its knowledge to do everything good that it wished to accomplish.

Some people use such considerations to explain the problem of evil.  The open theist claims that God lacks knowledge since, given that God is all powerful, God would prevent any evil that God knew about and knew how to prevent.  Similarly, if God lacks power, then God knows how to prevent all evil but simply cannot do so.  Thus, it appears that we have compelling reasons to believe that omniscience is valuable only insofar as it is related to perfect power and perfect goodness, and therefore it is only instrumentally valuable.   Indeed, even the most trivial of true propositions is instrumentally valuable to a being that needs to providentially govern all things with certainty of success.  Thus, the intuition that omniscience is valuable provides better support for the claim that truth is only instrumentally valuable.

Fifth, Lynch suggests that if truth’s value could be explained by something else such as its instrumentality, “then if I had two beliefs b1 and b2 with identical instrumental value, I should not prefer to believe b1 rather than b2” where b1 is true and b2 is false (Lynch, “Minimalism” 502).  Since we would prefer the true belief to the false belief, truth must have value apart from its instrumentality.  He offers the following examples to illustrate this point.  Consider whether it would be good to believe truly or falsely concerning some extremely abstract mathematical propositions.  Suppose that we knew that these propositions would never have any instrumental value whatsoever.  Then, “if we were forced to choose between believing truly or falsely about the matter, we would surely prefer the former” (Lynch, “Minimalism” 502). 

Lynch also cites thought experiments like one’s being deceived unknowingly by Descartes’ evil demon.  He observes that being in the demon world would be experientially and consequentially the same as being in the actual world, even though one’s beliefs would largely be false in one world and largely true in the other. The same can be said of living in a “Russell world” in which the world began two minutes ago and almost all of my past beliefs are false.  However, my false beliefs about the past in the “Russell world” have the same consequences as my true beliefs in the actual world and so they are instrumentally identical.  Since we would prefer to live in the actual world and have true beliefs, this non-instrumental difference is what matters and that is why we are disturbed by being “undetectably wrong” (Lynch, “Minimalism” 503).

Considering the abstract mathematical propositions first, it is not obvious to me that we should prefer to guess correctly.  Excluding the possibility in which our being “forced” to choose has practical implications, it seems at least as plausible that many people will simply not care whether they have a true belief or not in these circumstances.  The belief is too trivial to have any significance and so it does not matter if one knows it to be true or not. [2]   Such a case is different from the evil demon and “Russell world” scenarios since knowing the truth in these circumstances would make a practical difference.  If I knew that I was deceived by an evil demon or living in a “Russell world”, I would live my life differently because these truths are very significant. [3]   In order for Lynch’s argument to work, he needs us to prefer a true but trivial belief to a false but trivial belief of identical instrumental value.  That is, he needs us to prefer a true belief over a false belief even when knowing that a belief is true does not, would not, and could not, make a difference in how we live our lives.  Again, it seems that that most people would simply not care if such a belief were true or not.  They would not desire to know the truth and we would not find anything particularly wrong with them if they held such a belief that was false. [4]  This shows that the value of truth really depends upon the content of belief and not on whether it is true.  If we take the belief to be about something valuable, then knowing its truth or falsity will be valuable as well.  If the belief is trivial and hence the truth it contains is trivial, then it seems that we will not regard its truth as valuable.  Thus, whether a belief is valuable depends upon its instrumental importance and hence the value of its truth is also a matter of instrumentality.

Sixth, Lynch suggests that we still seek the truth even when there will be negative consequences and hence it is not instrumentally valuable. Considering a cheating spouse, Lynch writes that  “people often wish to know the truth about a spouse’s infidelity even when there is an excellent chance that nothing productive will come of it” (Lynch, “Minimalism” 502).  However, while something good may not come of it, it seems that in these situations people believe that something good will come of it.  At the very least, knowing the truth about this infidelity will end the uncertainty and worries about what may or may not be happening behind one’s back.  Furthermore, knowing the truth may strengthen the relationship in the long run or end the marital relationship for the eventual good of all parties.  Thus, the spouse hopes that the truth will be instrumentally good, even though it may not in fact be good.  In all similar cases, it seems that one can easily offer this sort of explanation, and hence we do not need to appeal to any intrinsic value in truth to explain this occurrence.

 Given the foregoing arguments, I conclude that neither Lynch nor Horwich has provided any compelling reasons for believing that truth is more than instrumentally useful.  However, the most obvious and I believe compelling reason for limiting truth’s value to instrumentality is that there are true beliefs that are not valuable.  This can be understood in two ways.  First, there are truths that we wish were not true and hence do not value.  These beliefs directly conflict with our goals and desires.  Consider the example of spousal infidelity.  Suppose that your wife is cheating on you.  If you could choose the option to remain in ignorant bliss and live happily ever after or choose to know the truth and thereby experience pain and suffering for the rest of your life, then it seems to me that you may be better off not knowing the truth. Thus, not all truths are desirable. [5]   Second, there are also beliefs that we do not wish to know whether they are true or false.  Whatever the case may be, it is of no importance to us. [6]  These beliefs indirectly conflict with our goals and desires.  They are “too trivial to be worth finding out about or worth remembering” and so would keep us from more important pursuits (Horwich, “The Value” 348).  For example, one might suggest that knowing the average length of grass on the lawn in front of my apartment does not appear to be either useful or intrinsically valuable.  Hence, it is not desirable to know all truths.

In response, Horwich and Lynch claim that the value of many truths can be overridden by other concerns.  We value many different things and quite often our different goals will conflict with each other.  Since we cannot satisfy them all, we must choose some over others and thereby sacrifice some values for the sake of others. For example, suppose a situation in which obtaining some information would be very dangerous. Horwich suggests that in this situation it would not be a bad thing, all things considered, if no investigation were undertaken or if the investigation led to a wrong answer (Horwich, “The Value” 348).  Thus, there may be cases in which it is good to believe something even though it is false.  Similarly, considering cases in which the truths to be acquired are too trivial or too complicated, both Lynch and Horwich suggest that finding out the truth may be too costly and not worth the effort.  Hence, it may not be desirable, all things considered, to pursue and believe all truths (Horwich, “The Value” 348; Lynch, “Minimalism” 500-1).  So “while it is always good that one believe only the truth, it is not always good, all things considered” (Lynch, “The Values” 227).  Thus, the truth remains valuable even when that value is overridden by other concerns. 

The difficulty with this response is that if truth is intrinsically valuable, then it seems that we should be doing something wrong by letting other concerns overrule our pursuit of it.  Consider the moral case in which humans can be regarded as instrumentally valuable or as valuable for their own sake.  If taken to be instrumentally valuable, then a human’s rights can be violated for the sake of some greater end (e.g., the greatest happiness in society).  However, if humans have value for their own sake, then we morally wrong them by violating these rights.  In other words, their worth is inviolable and no overall assessment can make violating this worth morally correct.  Similarly, if truth is only instrumentally valuable, then we do nothing wrong by not seeking or not believing it if, given an overall assessment, it is not worth it. [7]   However, if truth is intrinsically valuable, then it must be sought and believed at all costs if we are to avoid committing some sort of cognitive or epistemic wrong. 

At times Lynch seems to admit this.  For example, he writes that “the recognition that p is true is a decisive reason to believe it” (Lynch, “The Values” 230).  But it is difficult to reconcile this claim with his and Horwich’s claim that all things considered, it might be better to have a false belief.  In order to join these two competing claims one could suggest that it is permissible to abandon truth only if seeking and believing the truth conflicted with an equal or greater intrinsic value of some other kind (e.g., happiness).  However, Lynch and Horwich allow non-intrinsically-valuable considerations to overrule truth (e.g., one’s time, one’s resources).  Such considerations may be a means to a greater intrinsic value, but if truth is competing with these on the same level then it seems more plausible that it also is a means to a greater end.  Thus, it is more reasonable that truth is only instrumentally valuable.

In the end, I must admit that, like Lynch, these arguments are not conclusive.  Lynch writes that his reasons do not prove that we are “correct to believe that truth is more than instrumentally good: what they show is that for many people, the idea that truth is good is part of a tacit folk-theoretic conception of truth” (Lynch, “Minimalism” 505). [8]   However, I have shown that such considerations are consistent with believing truth to only be instrumentally valuable.  Given the additional reasons I put forward, I also conclude that it is more plausible to hold that truth is not intrinsically valuable and that its value comes from instrumental reasons only.

Footnotes

[1] David also notices the relationship between knowledge and power and points out that Lynch has not distinguished between what is good for God and what is good for us (David 298).  Lynch responds that “We don’t need to do theology to understand why caring about believing the truth as such is good for us… [W]e only need to think about the role that caring about truth plays in human flourishing” (Lynch, “Replies” 333).  However, such a response is compatible with truth being valuable only as a means to our flourishing.

[2] David makes this same point when considering trivial truths that we acquire without cost: “Do we really care about believing trivial truths that come for free? In the end, this is of course a personal question. But I suspect quite a few people will say: Not at all” (David 298).  Similarly, there is an “introspective conviction, which I think quite a few people have, that they simply don’t care about believing trivial truths and simply don’t care about believing free trivial truths either” (David 298).

[3] David offers a different objection: “The expected response, namely that I prefer to live in the normal world, indicates at best that I want my beliefs, the beliefs I actually have, to be true, that I want to live in the world in which the beliefs that I actually have are true. This does not indicate that I want to believe whatever is true” (David 297).

[4] Papineau similarly writes: “Consider people who aim deliberately to mislead themselves… Are these people acting wrongly? Of course, they aren't doing what they need to, if they want their beliefs to be true. But by hypothesis they don't want their beliefs to be true. So is there any other sense in which they are proceeding improperly?  It is not obvious to me that there is” (Papineau 24).

[5] Papineau agrees: “it can sometimes be quite proper… not to be moved by the aim of truth” (Papineau 24).

[6] David goes even further in denying Lynch’s claim: even if we restrict ourselves to “non-trivial, important, and humanly graspable propositions[,] there are still way too many truths of that sort for me to have that many wants” (David 299). 

[7] One might go further in saying that no wrong is committed by not seeking the truth in any case.  For example, Papineau believes the claim that “there is always some reason to seek the truth, even if it can be overridden” to be “implausible” (Papineau 25).
 
[8]   Elsewhere, Lynch also writes: “I don’t claim that these arguments show that truth has intrinsic worth… I like to think it does have such value, but I am pessimistic that any argument could prove the point” (Lynch, “Replies” 334). 

Works Cited and Consulted

David, Marian. “On ‘Truth is Good’.” Philosophical Books 46.4 (2005): 292-301.  Wiley Online
Library. Web. 7 May 2011.

Horwich, Paul. Truth. 2nd ed. New York: Oxford, 1998. Print.

---. “The Value of Truth.” Noûs 40.2 (2006): 347-360. Wiley Online Library. Web. 29 April
2011.

Lynch, Michael. “Minimalism and the Value of Truth.” The Philosophical Quarterly 54.217
(2004): 497-517. Wiley Online Library. Web. 29 April 2011.

---. “Replies to Critics.” Philosophical Books 46.4 (2005): 331-42. Wiley Online Library. Web. 7
May 2011.

---. “The Values of Truth and the Truth of Values.” Epistemic Value. Ed.  Adrian Haddock, Alan
Millar, and Duncan Pritchard. New York: Oxford, 2009. 225-42. Print.

McGrath, Matthew. “Lynch on the Value of Truth.” Philosophical Books 46.4 (2005): 302-310. 
Wiley Online Library. Web. 7 May 2011.

Papineau, David. “Normativity and Judgement.” Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society 73.1
(1999): 17-43.  JSTOR. Web. 7 May 2011.

 Piller, Christian.  “Desiring the Truth and Nothing But the Truth.”  Noûs 43.2 (2009): 193-213.
Wiley Online Library. Web. 7 May 2011.

The Conditions and Significance of Having a Proper Name (1)

The below paper was written by me during a Philosophy of Language course I took while completing my MA in Philosophy at Northern Illinois University.  It was submitted on May 11, 2011 and remains as I submitted it (apart from necessary formatting changes).
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Proper names are singular terms that refer uniquely to their referents in virtue of being bestowed upon and attached to these referents.  Consequently, they are available to use over an extended length of time because they continue to refer to an individual even when that individual undergoes a descriptive change.  Common names, on the other hand, denote a class of individuals and are applied to specific individuals on the basis of descriptions. If an individual’s description changes, many common names that were once attributed to the individual may no longer apply to that individual.  As such, proper names are intimately tied to the identity of an individual in a way that a common name is not, which is why in many cultures the proper name is “considered to be part of, or identical with, the soul, self, or personality of its bearer” (Bean 310-1).  What then does having a proper name suggest about the individual that bears it?  To answer, I will focus on the conditions under which an individual has a proper name by looking at two broad accounts: one that focuses on the utility of proper names and another that uses proper names to convey significance.  Using examples and empirical studies, I will conclude that a version of the significance account is correct.  In particular, I will argue that an individual has a proper name iff (i) a social community has bestowed that individual with a name and accepted that name as referring to that individual, (ii) there is a continued interest in the identity of the individual over time, (iii) the individual has intrinsic or sentimental value and has had that value affirmed by the community, and (iv) the individual has (or is treated as having) a personality. 

In his Essay Concerning Human Understanding, John Locke addresses two questions: first, why do we not give proper names to all individuals, and second, why do we give proper names to the individuals that we do so name?  To answer the first, Locke proposes that giving proper names to all individuals is psychologically impossible because it is beyond the capacity of the human mind to remember so many uniquely referring terms (Locke, chp. 3, sec. 2).  As such, we must limit the number of individuals to which we assign proper names.  Second, a unique reference for all individuals would be “useless” since it wouldn’t serve the chief end of language, which is the communication of thoughts to others (Locke, chp. 3, sec. 3).  There would be too many proper names to keep track of, not all of which are known to the members of a conversation.  One would have to resort to common names to continue the conversation and so relying completely on proper names would be useless and inefficient.

Already in Locke, we can see two purposes in using proper names.  In accordance with the first response, we use proper names only for individuals that are special in some way, whose cognitive priority rises above other properly unnamed individuals and so deserves some of our limited cognitive capacity.  In accordance with the second response, proper names provide an efficient means of communication in circumstances in which all members of a conversation know of the individual to which the proper name refers.  Instead of having to repeat a description using common names, one can simply use a proper name to pick out the unique individual relevant to the conversation, thus making the conversation more efficient and more precise.

Though related, these two responses are different.  The second response asserts that proper names are used to “single out an individual from all other individuals” while the first response asserts that proper names are used to “to mark off an individual’s individuality” (Jeshion 372).  In other words, the second response claims that proper names simply help us to pick out and refer to a particular individual.  On the contrary, the first response states that proper names stress the importance or significance of the individual so named.  The second proposed understanding of proper names is what Jeshion calls the Semantic Utility Account of Proper Names whereas the first proposed view is called the Significance of Names Account.

Which of these two accounts is correct?  The Semantic Utility account of proper names claims that we give proper names to certain individuals in situations where there is:  (1) a wide circle of communicators that wishes to refer to a particular individual, (2) these communicators have “an interest in the continuing identity of the particular across time”, and (3) no short description exists that the group of communicators can use to pick out the individual uniquely (Jeshion 372).  In sum, a proper name is given for the fundamental reason that it “will be useful for the purposes of efficient, economical communication” (Jeshion 376).

This view does have an initial plausibility.  People, for example, meet each of the three criteria.  An individual person must move through a wide circle of communicators that all have an interest in that person’s identity over time.  Furthermore, given the complexity of what persons are, there is usually no short unique description that can pick out one person from another.  Most artifacts, on the other hand, fail at least one of the three criteria, if not all three.  For example, a particular basketball only needs to be referred to by a small circle of communicators (e.g., a family or group of friends), there is little interest in the continuing identity of the ball (since one basketball is generally as good as any other), and there is a short description available to pick out the ball (e.g., Fred’s basketball).

However, there are several objections that can be made that show that the Semantic Utility account of proper names does not provide necessary and sufficient conditions for when a proper name is given.  More specifically, both conditions (1) and (3) are not necessary.  We can easily imagine cases in which there is a very small circle of communicators that wishes to refer to a particular individual and does so using a proper name even though a short description is available for use (Jeshion 377).  For example, our family pets are given names even though a short description would suffice (e.g., “the dog”, “the brown dog”, “Tom’s dog”).  Similarly, there may be a very wide circle of communicators that wishes to refer to a particular individual but a proper name is not used even though a short description does not exist (Jeshion 378).  For example, collector’s items are discussed amongst a wide variety of collectors but they are not given proper names even though their descriptions can be quite long and complex.

Condition (2), however, is met in these examples and so it does appear to be necessary.  This is plausible since we would not assign a proper name to an individual whose identity held no long-term interest for us.  However, this condition is not sufficient on its own.  There are many individuals whose identity we have a long-term interest in maintaining over time but that we do not properly name.  For instance, most people do not name their cars or their houses even though their continued identity is of great interest to their owners. 

The difficulty with (2), and the Semantic Utility account as a whole, is that it does not specify what kind of interest we have in the individual’s continued identity. This is something that the Significance of Names account does not fail to do.  According to Jeshion, our interest in the properly named individual is concerned with that individual’s individuality.  We give proper names to individuals that “we construe as possessing individuality [and which] we regard as having intrinsic or relational value, beyond their value as an instance of a certain kind” (Jeshion 373).  Bean similarly states that individuals are given names when they are “considered so unique or significant in their own right as to be distinguished and individuated” (Bean 309).

Continued: Part 2 

 

The Conditions and Significance of Having a Proper Name (2)

Continued from: Part 1


These and similar statements can be fleshed out into a fuller account.  First, notice that whether or not an individual has a proper name depends on the social and linguistic community.  According to Kripke, an individual bears a proper name in virtue of being directly assigned that name through an initial “baptism” that rigidly fixes the reference (Bean 307).  However, the “baptism” must be initiated and accepted by the community.  Bean more fully states that “firstly a proper name works, i.e. denotes an entity, because it has been rightfully bestowed and consequently ‘belongs to’ its bearer.  Secondly, for the name to be correctly used, members of the community must concur on the identity… of what it is to which the name belongs” (Bean 307).  Thus, it is the decision of members of the community to give a proper name to an individual in accordance with their attitudes towards the individual.

This theory bears out in practice.  Consider the naming ritual of the Ibo of Nigeria.  A newborn child is not given a name for 28 days, but is instead referred to as the “new child” (Wieschoff 212).  After 28 days the name is determined by social conditions: the social standing of the parents, the socially perceived character of the child, and the community’s acceptance of any name given.  Even the meanings of names reflect social conditions and events surrounding the birth of the child (e.g., the place of birth, the financial status of the parents, future hopes for the child) (Wieschoff 214).  Bean notices that a similar pattern is followed in other cultures: the “bestowal of a child’s name is often the duty of the parents, but is as likely to be the duty of a senior kinsman or of a ritual specialist and the participation of members of the larger community is usually required” (Bean 309).

Consider our own experiences.  In our culture, a baby is given a name by his or her parents and this is accepted by the community.  Even when an adult changes her name, it is not until her name has gone through a legal process and is accepted by the legal system (which acts on behalf of the social community) that her new name is properly her name.  One can also imagine a person attempting to give herself a nickname but nobody calls her by it.  We would not say that this is her name.  Her social community must first accept the nickname as referring to her before it becomes hers.  Thus, a first condition on an individual’s having a name is that (i) a social community has bestowed that individual with a name and accepted that name as referring to that individual.

For reasons already given, we should include condition (2).  So if an individual has a proper name, (ii) there is a continued interest in the identity of the individual over time.  However, now we can specify what kind of interest there is in the individual.  Jeshion gives what she calls the Significance Guides Naming Principle: “an agent can name an individual only if she accords intrinsic or relational significance to that individual” (Jeshion 374).  In other words, one names an individual in order to recognize that individual’s intrinsic or relational worth.  Intrinsic worth is worth that an individual has of its own and for its own sake.  It cannot be bestowed but only affirmed.  Thus, if someone names a being that has intrinsic worth, one is recognizing and affirming that intrinsic worth instead of giving it worth. 

Relational worth can be either instrumental worth or sentimental worth.  An individual is instrumentally valuable if it is useful in some way.  However, we do not name individuals that are merely instrumentally valuable.  An individual that is merely instrumentally valuable will have the same value as any other member of that kind and will therefore not be singled out as an individual with special significance.  Our cars, tools, and kitchen appliances are instrumentally useful, but we do not tend to name them because we tend to regard them as replaceable.  On the other hand, individuals that have sentimental worth are not replaceable.  They may have the same instrumental value as another member of their kind, but they have more worth to us because we have attributed worth to them through our sentiments and thereby singled them out as individuals.  For example, a teddy bear may be just as good as any other teddy bear in terms of functionality, but a child’s teddy bear is his or her teddy bear and as such is bestowed with worth.

So it seems that we only name individuals when they have intrinsic value (not attributed by us) or when they have sentimental value (attributed by us).  It is important to note, however, that naming the individual does not add worth to the individual (for naming presupposes the worth). There is no internal change with respect to the individual so named.  Instead, the naming constitutes an extrinsic change in relation to the community.  As Jeshion states, naming “underscores or enhances the name’s referent’s significance for those that think of that individual through the name” (Jeshion 374).  Similarly, Bean notices that in most cultures, “the bestowal ritual usually coincides with or constitutes the child’s acceptance as a member of his group, his recognition as a social person” (Bean 310).  The giving of a name affirms that person’s value and place within the community.  Consequently, our third condition is that an individual has a proper name only if (iii) the individual has intrinsic or sentimental value and has had that value affirmed by the community.

However, our conditions are not yet sufficient.  We do not name all individuals that we believe and affirm to have intrinsic or sentimental value.  Consider some of Jeshion’s own examples, which can be used against her position since she seems content with conditions like (i)-(iii).  For instance, while it is true that we do not name most of our clothes even though we have a long term interest in their identity, Jeshion explains this by saying that we do not regard our clothes as significant individuals.  However, there are items of clothing that are taken to be significant as individuals but are still not named (e.g., a wedding dress, a deceased relative’s jacket).  Similarly, while some plants remain unnamed because we only regard them as instrumentally valuable (e.g., Jeshion’s tomato plants), other plants do have sentimental value and yet we still do not name them (e.g., an old oak tree on one’s property).

Animacy might be proposed as a fourth condition, but this fails.  In a study using animals, the words associated with pet animals (e.g., dogs, cats) were taken to be proper names while those associated with non-pet animals (e.g., bees, snails, caterpillars) were not taken to be proper names, that is, until they were introduced as belonging to the experimenter (Jeshion 384).  Jeshion rejects animacy on this basis.  But this study does not show that animacy is not a necessary condition, for the children could have believed that animacy was simply not sufficient since the bees, snails, and caterpillars did not have any intrinsic or sentimental value.  However, animacy is not a condition of naming individuals.  For example, a pet rock is given sentimental value by its owner and who takes an interest in its identity over time.  However, the rock has no animacy even though it is given a name.

What then is lacking in our conditions?  I propose that those individuals we name have (or are treated as having) a personality.  By personality, I mean that the individual may be taken to have (or may be artificially described as having) a certain character, intentional states, or unique personal qualities.  This is similar to but importantly different from animacy, since animacy tends to imply that a being has personality, but the converse is not the case.  Consider some evidence for this claim  In child development research, “children exhibit a strong tendency to interpret a novel word as a proper name if it is applied to a person or person surrogate (a doll), but withhold the proper name interpretation for artifacts – blocks, shoes, toy cars and planes” (Jeshion 384).  The person or person surrogate is regarded as having intentional states while the artifacts are not.  However, when the artifacts are treated as having personalities, there is a different result.  In another study, “children readily allowed the application of a proper name to foam geometrical objects so long as they were merely described in intentional terms – as having certain mental states” (Jeshion 384).  Similarly, pet rocks are given faces and are described as though they had mental states, thus qualifying them as significant individuals deserving of names.

In a different study, Legerstee concludes that “[infants] recognize people as social stimuli (they vocalize, smile, alternate their gazes and imitate their actions) and objects as inanimate stimuli” (Legerstee 63). This can be combined with Katz’s observation that “within certain classes of objects (e.g., people), the children first discriminate individuals and then learn their names, whereas among other classes of objects (e.g., spoons) they do not discriminate individuals, and learn names only for the class” (Katz 469).  Together, these studies suggest that names are properly ascribed to social entities, and social entities have personalities.  As such, I conclude that an individual has a proper name only if (iv) the individual has (or is treated as having) a personality.  Joined with the other three conditions, it seems that an individual has a proper name iff (i) a social community has bestowed that individual with a name and accepted that name as referring to that individual, (ii) there is a continued interest in the identity of the individual over time, (iii) the individual has intrinsic or sentimental value and has had that value affirmed by the community, and (iv) the individual has (or is treated as having) a personality.

Now consider some possible counterexamples.  Yachts and racecars are often named, but we know that they do not have mental states even though their owners do have a long-term interest in their continued identity and their owners have sentimental feelings for them.  Jeshion suggests in a footnote that we “anthropomorphize” both yachts and racecars due to a societal convention (Jeshion 379).  Although Jeshion does not say, I believe that yachts and racecars are anthropomorphized because we attribute personality to them.  We speak as though they had temperaments and wills; we talk to them as though they can hear us.  Such anthropomorphizing explains why “adults may assign proper names to artifacts of some kind (e.g., boats, cars), [but] young children do not expect such objects to receive proper names” (Hall “Semantic” 1316).  Adults have been exposed to societal conventions and have developed sentimental attachments for their yachts and cars whereas children have not.  However, as one grows and is exposed to such conventions, one takes more and more entities to be “social.”

 What about places?  Cities, states, islands, parks, and even certain houses (e.g., large European estates) have proper names.  We have a long term interest in them and we do regard them as having sentimental value as unique individuals.  But do they have personality?  Again, we often talk about them as though they had a personality or character by using terms that are intentional.  Each place has a certain feel to it, a life of its own, or an atmosphere that distinguishes it from other places.  Similarly, natural objects like mountains and trees are often described as having personalities and intentional thoughts.  For example, a significant tree is said to have seen and heard much in its long life.  A mountain is treated as having a will that is to be overcome by its climbers. 

 Perhaps these cases are a bit of a stretch for the fourth condition.  However, this tension can be relieved by recognizing that while each condition is necessary, each need not be doing equal work.  For example, there is a very great long-term interest in maintaining the identity of a mountain that is shared by many people.  This can counteract the deficiency in sentimental value or lack of personality that the mountain has.  Similarly, a named tree may have great sentimental value but lack a lot of distinguishing character.  Nevertheless, it seems to me that these four conditions (or something very much like them), are necessary and sufficient for an individual’s having a name.

Finally, consider a few implications.  If having a name signifies social bestowal and acceptance, a long-term interest in one’s identity, intrinsic or sentimental value, and a personality, then denying that an individual has a name (or refusing to give or to use a name) is (or can be taken as) a denial that the individual meets one of these conditions.  Jeshion points out that when we fail to name a pet animal, this is “normally interpreted as regarding the animal as insignificant, or replaceable, or otherwise somehow valued only as an instance of its kind, not, in the first instance, as an individual” (Jeshion 379).  She also gives the example of dog breeders that discourage their children from naming the puppies that will be sold to prevent sentimental attachments.  Similarly with chickens and cows that will be eaten.  It is better to not name them and in so doing deny that they have any intrinsic value and to prevent sentimental value from forming.

Mary Phillips notices that laboratory animals are rarely given proper names.  The dog or cat in the lab is regarded as “ontologically different” from the pets at home (Phillips 119).  There is a long term interest in the continuing identity of the lab animal because the experiment involving it is done over a long period of time.  However, the interest in the animal is related only to its instrumental worth in performing the experiment.  Compare this to animals in the pound or in pet shelters.  Even without owners, they are immediately treated with affection and are thus given temporary names to emphasize their individuality and significance.

Consider also the example of stillborn babies.  In some cases, the baby is named “as a way of dignifying and underscoring importance” (Jeshion 379).  However, other couples refrain from naming their stillborn baby.  This is done, “not because they’d not think or refer to the baby.  It has rather to do with somehow not enhancing its individuality to them or shielding themselves from the psychological effects of thinking of the baby by name” (Jeshion 379).  The couple is attempting to forestall any sentimental value.  By refusing to name, one prevents oneself from becoming attached to the individual because one denies its significance as an individual.  This explains why using a demonstrative or description to refer to an individual that has a name is taken to be insulting.  By not using the name that that individual was given, one is refusing to acknowledge their significance as an individual and (implicitly) denying that they have intrinsic or sentimental worth, that they are worthy of long-term interest, or that they have a personality.

 In conclusion, this paper has shown that a proper name is much more than a device used to facilitate communication.  Instead, a proper name is used to pick out a unique individual because of that individual’s worth, personality, and long-term interest in a social community.  One might say, as the Saami people do, that by acquiring a proper name a particular individual moves from merely “being labeled” to “being” (Anderson 186).  While common names merely label individuals, proper names recognize an individual’s individuality.  Thus, we should conclude that a proper name, while often semantically useful, primarily marks and underscores an individual’s significance and that is why it is used. 

 
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