Theory of Questions: Erotetics Through the Prism of Its Philosophical Background and Practical Applications 9789401207324, 9401207321

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THEORY OF QUESTIONS

POZNAŃ STUDIES IN THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE SCIENCES AND THE HUMANITIES VOLUME 99

FOUNDING EDITOR: Leszek Nowak (1943-2009)

EDITORS Jerzy Brzeziński Andrzej Klawiter Krzysztof Łastowski Izabella Nowakowa

Joanna Odrowąż-Sypniewska Katarzyna Paprzycka (editor-in-chief) Piotr Przybysz Mieszko Tałasiewicz

ADVISORY COMMITTEE Joseph Agassi (Tel-Aviv) Étienne Balibar (Irvine, CA) Wolfgang Balzer (München) Mario Bunge (Montreal) Nancy Cartwright (London) Robert S. Cohen (Boston) Francesco Coniglione (Catania) Dagfinn Føllesdal (Oslo, Stanford) Jaakko Hintikka (Boston) Jacek J. Jadacki (Warszawa) Jerzy Kmita (Poznań)

Theo A.F. Kuipers (Groningen) Witold Marciszewski (Warszawa) Ilkka Niiniluoto (Helsinki) Günter Patzig (Göttingen) Jacek Paśniczek (Lublin) Marian Przełęcki (Warszawa) Jan Such (Poznań) Max Urchs (Konstanz) Jan Woleński (Kraków) Ryszard Wójcicki (Warszawa)

hab. Katarzyna Paprzycka . University of Warsaw Institute of Philosophy . Krakowskie Przedmieście 3 . 00-927 Warszawa . Poland Fax ++48(0)22-826-5734 . E-mail: [email protected]

Address: Prof.

UW

dr

POLISH ANALYTICAL PHILOSOPHY

Editors: Jacek Juliusz Jadacki, editor-in-chief (University of Warsaw) Jacek Paśniczek (Maria Curie-Skłodowska University, Lublin) Jan Woleński (Jagiellonian University, Cracow) Ryszard Wójcicki (Polish Academy of Science, Warsaw)

The volumes in the subseries present the heritage of the analytical movement in Polish philosophy in general, and the achievements, traditions and continuations of the Lvov-Warsaw School in particular.

Other volumes in the subseries: I: II: III: IV: V: VI:

K. Twardowski, On Action, Products and Other Topics in Philosophy, ed. J.L. Brandl and J. Woleński (1999, vol. 67) T. Czeżowski, Knowledge, Science and Values: A Program for Scientific Philosophy, ed. L. Gumański (2000, vol. 68) Polish Philosophers of Science and Nature in the 20th Century, ed. W. Krajewski (2000, vol. 74) J. Salamucha, Knowledge and Faith, ed. J. Jadacki and K. Świętorzecka (2003, vol. 77) A. Wiegner, Observation, Hypothesis, Introspection, ed. I. Nowakowa (2005, vol. 87) The Lvov-Warsaw School – the New Generation, ed. J. Jadacki and J. Paśniczek (2006, vol. 89)

POZNAŃ STUDIES IN THE PHILOSOPHY OF THE SCIENCES AND THE HUMANITIES, VOLUME 99 POLISH ANALYTICAL PHILOSOPHY, VOLUME VII

Anna Brożek

THEORY OF QUESTIONS EROTETICS THROUGH THE PRISM OF ITS PHILOSOPHICAL BACKGROUND AND PRACTICAL APPLICATIONS

AMSTERDAM – NEW YORK, NY 2011

The paper on which this book is printed meets the requirements of “ISO 9706:1994, Information and documentation - Paper for documents - Requirements for permanence”. ISBN: 978-90-420-3446-4 E-Book ISBN: 978-94-012-0732-4 © Editions Rodopi B.V., Amsterdam – New York, NY 2011 Printed in The Netherlands

CONTENTS Introduction . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

15

PART ONE PHILOSOPHICAL BACKGROUND

Chapter 1. Ontological and Epistemological Preliminaries 1. A Natural Picture of the World . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2. Schematization and Simplification . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3. Universalization and Generalization . . . . . . . . . . . . 4. Idealization . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5. Presentations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6. Epistemic States . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7. Volitional States . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8. Thinking and Using the Language . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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25 25 26 28 29 31 32 33 34

Chapter 2. Semantics and Pragmatics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1. Natural Languages versus Artificial Languages . . . . . . . . . 2. The Sense of Questions: Intuitions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3. Semantics and Pragmatics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4. Logical (Pure) Semantics and Linguistic (Descriptive) Semantics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5. Semiotic Relations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6. Idealization of the Description of Language . . . . . . . . . . . 7. Communicative Function of Expressions . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8. Establishing Communicative Functions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9. Communication and Representation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

37 37 38 39 42 44 47 52 54 55

Historical and Polemical Comments . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

56

Chapter 3. Sentences and Pictures of Situations . . . . 1. Situations − Correlates of Sentences . . . . . . . . 2. Judgments − Correlates of Sentences . . . . . . . 3. Particular and Universal Correlates of Sentences 4. Judgements and Convictions . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5. Picturing versus Stating . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6. Pictures and Fictions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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59 59 61 62 64 66 68

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Theory of Questions

7. Picturing Elements of Situation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8. Pictures and Judgments . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

69 76

Historical and Polemical Comments . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

77

Chapter 4. Semantico-Categorial Analysis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1. Ajdukiewicz’s Heritage . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2. Improvements . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

79 79 83

Historical and Polemical Comments . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

89

PART TWO THEORY

Chapter 5. The Communicative Function of Questions . . . . 1. Cognitive, Incognitive, and Volitional Elements of Sense of Questions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2. Hypothetical Components of the Sense of Questions . . 3. Terminological Specifications . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4. The Concept of Inquiry . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5. Graphic Representation . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6. Questions versus Orders and Declarative Sentences . . . 7. Communicative Function versus Traditional Semantic .

... the ... ... ... ... ... ... ...

101 101 103 104 106 108 111 115

Historical and Polemical Comments . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 117 Chapter 6. The Structure of Natural-Language Questions 1. General Characteristics of Completive Questions . . 2. Hypothetive Questions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3. Selective Questions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4. Interpretational Difficulties: Who-Questions . . . . . 5. What-Questions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6. Where- and When-Questions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7. Which-Question . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8. Why-Questions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9. Troubles with Hypothetive Questions . . . . . . . . . . 10. The Scope of Unknown and Semantic Directives . . . 11. Precision of Natural Language Questions . . . . . . . .

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129 129 131 136 138 141 142 143 144 145 150 151

Historical and Polemical Comments . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 153 Chapter 7. Semantico-Categorial Description of Questions 1. Preliminaries . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2. Categorial Kinds of Questions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3. Versions of Analysis . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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171 171 171 174

9

Introduction

4. Declarative, Interrogative, and Imperative Sentences . . . . . 5. Completive Questions about Individuals (Names) . . . . . . . 6. Hypothetive and Selective Questions about Individuals . . . 7. Predicative Questions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8. Questions about Circumstances . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9. Quantifier Questions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10. Causal and Telic Questions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11. Conditional Questions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12. Compound Questions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13. Semantico-Categorial Analysis of Questions and Syntactic Ambiguity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14. Prospects . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

177 178 180 182 183 184 185 186 187 188 189

Historical and Polemical Comments . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 189 Chapter 8. Cognitive Content and Cognitive Context of a Question . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1. The Concept of Assumption of a Question . . . . . . . . . . . . 2. Assumptions of Completive Questions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3. Assumptions of Hypothetive and Selective Questions . . . . 4. Presuppositions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5. A Weakened Concept of Assumption . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6. Cognitive Context of a Question . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7. Assumptions of Conditional Questions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8. Relation between Questions with Respect to Assumptions . .

193 193 193 194 195 196 197 198 200

Historical and Polemical Comments . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 202 Chapter 9. Answers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1. Concepts of Answer . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2. Direct Answer . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3. Indirect Answer . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4. Partial Answer . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5. Limiting Answer . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6. Correcting Answer . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7. Modifying Answer . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8. Accurate and Exhaustive Answer . . . . . . 9. Answer as Such (in General) . . . . . . . . . 10. Relations between Questions with Respect

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207 207 207 210 213 213 214 216 217 218 219

Historical and Polemical Comments . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 220 Chapter 10. Embedded Questions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 227 1. Embedded Questions: Misunderstandings . . . . . . . . . . . . 227

10

Theory of Questions

2. 3. 4. 5. 6.

Embedded Questions as Nominalized Questions . . . . . . . . Pronouns versus Queries . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Designates of Nominalized Questions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Inquiries as Correlates of Nominalized Questions . . . . . . . Supplementations as Correlates of Nominalized Questions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7. Pragmatic Properties of Nominalized Sentences as Names of States of Affairs . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

228 230 232 233 234 235

Historical and Polemical Comments . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 236 Chapter 11. The Analysis of Erotetic Situation . . . . 1. Modifications of a Typical Erotetic Situation . . 2. Didactic, Suggesting, and Suggestive Questions 3. Answer-Reaction (Response) . . . . . . . . . . . . 4. Answer-Information . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5. Extraverbal Replies . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6. Forms of Answers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7. Lies in Questions and Answers . . . . . . . . . . .

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241 241 245 246 248 249 249 251

Historical and Polemical Comments . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 256 PART THREE PRACTICAL APPLICATIONS

Chapter 12. Questions in Science . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1. Scientific Questions as the Component of Scientific Discipline . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2. Characteristic of Scientific Questions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3. Desired Features of Scientific Questions . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4. Semiotico-Logical Correctness of Questions . . . . . . . . . . 5. Proper Posing . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6. Resolvability of Scientific Questions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7. Operations of Scientific Questions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

265 265 265 267 267 268 269 273

Historical and Polemical Comments . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 273 Chapter 13. Erotetic Reasoning . . . . . . . 1. Questions in Cognitive Processes . . 2. Questions Conducting Reasoning . . 3. Types of Conducting-Questions . . . 4. Other Conducting-Questions . . . . . 5. Erotetic Consequence . . . . . . . . . 6. The Affinity of Inferential Relations

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279 279 281 283 286 287 289

11

Introduction

7. Kinds of Erotetic Reasoning . . . . . . . . . . . 8. Asertorico-Erotetic Reasoning . . . . . . . . . . 9. Erotetico-Erotetic Reasoning . . . . . . . . . . . 10. Fallible and Infallible Erotetic Reasoning . . 11. Questions Conducting Erotetic Reasoning . . 12. Erotetic Conception of Cognitive Operations

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291 292 293 294 295 298

Historical and Polemical Comments . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 299 Chapter 14. Psychological Analysis of Questions . . . . . . 1. Psychology and Questions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2. Psychological Interpretation of Answers . . . . . . . . 3. A psychologist versus Questions and Answers . . . . 4. Psychological Interview: Definite and Indefinite tions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5. Sensitive Matters and Projective Questions . . . . . . 6. Carrying Out an Interview . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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307 307 307 309 310 312 312

Historical and Polemical Comments . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 313 Chapter 15. Questions in Surveys . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1. Erotetic Components in Sociology . . . . . . . . . . . 2. Basic Concepts . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3. Scientific versus Questionnaire Questions . . . . . . 4. The Analysis of Scientific Questions . . . . . . . . . 5. Kinds of Questions in Sociological Questionnaires 6. Making Precise Questions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7. Answers to Questionnaire Questions . . . . . . . . . . 8. Logical Correctness of Questionnaire Questions . . 9. Psychological Analysis of Questionnaire Questions 10. The Composition of Questionnaire Questions . . . . 11. Filtering Questions and the “I Do Not Know” Filter

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315 315 316 316 318 318 320 322 322 324 325 325

Historical and Polemical Comments . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 326 Chapter 16. Questions in Didactic Tests . . . . . . 1. Test versus Questionnaire . . . . . . . . . . . . 2. The Concept of Didactic Question . . . . . . 3. Kinds of Didactic Questions . . . . . . . . . . 4. Tasks . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5. Logical Correctness of Test Questions . . . 6. Psychological Analysis of Test Questions . 7. Measuring by Tests − Theoretical Problems

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331 331 331 333 335 337 337 339

Historical and Polemical Comments . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 340

12

Theory of Questions

Chapter 17. Questions in Legal Proceedings . . . . . 1. Erotetics and Law . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2. The Mixed Procedure of Examination . . . . . . 3. The English System of Examination . . . . . . . 4. Tendentious Questions in Law . . . . . . . . . . . 5. The Role of Questions in Criminal Trials . . . . 6. Erotetic Legal Reasoning . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7. Irrelevant Questions and Reversing Questions 8. Falsity and Insincerity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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343 343 343 345 346 346 347 350 351

Historical and Polemical Comments . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 353 Chapter 18. Philosophical Questions . . . . . . . . 1. Commonplace Opinions . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2. The essence of Philosophical Questions . . 3. Resolvability of Philosophical Questions Procedures . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4. The Analysis of Epistemological Questions 5. The Analysis of Theodicy Question . . . . . 6. The Analysis of Transcendental Questions . 7. Existential Questions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8. Attitudes toward Philosophical Questions .

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357 357 357 359 361 363 366 368 370

Historical and Polemical Comments . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 370 Conclusions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 377 Appendix: From the History of Erotetics in Poland in the 20th Century . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1. Introductory Remarks . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2. The Scope of Erotetic Investigations: Conceptual Apparatus . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3. Components of a Questions-State and Semiotic Functions of Questions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4. Structural Components of Questions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5. Construction of Interrogatives . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6. Kinds of Questions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7. Cognitive Content of Questions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8. Answers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9. Relations between the Elements of the Domain of Erotetics . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10. Desired Properties of Questions . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

387 387 389 392 395 396 398 409 412 415 419

Introduction

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11. Questions in General Methodology and in the Methodology of Particular Sciences . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 423 References . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 425 Name Index . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 437

INTRODUCTION It is hard to imagine our life without questions. They facilitate orientation in our environment, enable interpersonal communication and make the acquisition of knowledge possible. Questions direct scientific research, are used as research tools and are an important medium of transferring knowledge in didactics. That is why the role of questions cannot be overestimated and the need to construct a multifaceted theory of questions and answers is urgent pressing one. Prof. Witold Marciszewski wrote: It should be considered, if the two pioneering ideas of Ajdukiewicz, categorial grammar and the logic of questions, can be synthesized in one logical-linguistic-ontological theory. (Marciszewski [not published])

In much the same way as Prof. Marciszewski, I feel a strong need for such a synthesis and I hope that my book may serve as an introduction to it. There are two components of my attitude towards the issues investigated in the book. Firstly, one of my main goals was to present problems of the theory of questions in a maximally broad theoretical context. Thus I analyze erotetic concepts in a general framework of an ontological, epistemological, and semiotic character. Secondly, continuing my analyses, I take into account some important applications of the results of them − especially in humanities. I have attempted to integrate a realization of these goals with the maximum of precision of the suggested solutions. I am not denying that this task was not easy and many of the theses that I propose in the book are done so with strength which is far from certitude. If I wanted to accurately capture the true degree of my convictions, I would have to begin many sentences with the expression ‘It seems that’ or ‘I think that’. But usually I resign from using such “overcautious” phrases. I have noticed that opinions, which are propagated firmly, have more chance of meeting with constructive criticism than opinions expressed “overcautiously” and I am actively seeking such criticism! The problem of precision requires one more comment.

16

Theory of Questions

In his famous article “In the Defence of Logistic,” Jan Łukasiewicz connected the postulate of precise language with the postulate of formalization of arguments. He wrote: Precision of thoughts may be guaranteed only by the precision of a language. But logical signs have a certain meaning. [. . .] We are concerned with that meaning, with the thoughts and ideas expressed by signs, [. . .] and not in signs as such. [. . .] We formalize logical deductions and we are right in doing so; but formalization is only a means of acquiring knowledge and certainty about something, and what is important for us is not the means but that of which we obtain cognition through those means [. . .]. It sometimes happens that either as a result of the subconscious work of the mind, or owing to a fortunate association of ideas, or thanks to an instinctive sense of truth, a creative and fertile idea which removes our difficulties and opens up new paths of research appears in our consciousness quite unexpectedly, by inspiration as it were. This occurs in particular at the cutting edge of human thought, where we face territories not as yet conquered by science or illuminated by thought, those which are still dark and unknown. There intuition often replaces discursive thinking, which in such cases is usually helpless, and makes the first pioneering conquests in the new territories. But once the territory has been conquered, then it should be occupied by discursive thinking with the full apparatus of logic, so that the spoils of intuition, which can easily prove fallible, may be checked, ordered, and rationalized. For in my opinion only mental territory which has been ordered by methods approved by logic may be considered as being definitely won for science. (Łukasiewicz [1937] 1970, pp. 241-242)

Contemporary erotetics is certainly not such a “dark and unknown” area mentioned by Łukasiewicz. The logical apparatus has entered in this area and many parts of it are meliorated by formal tools. There have appeared many great systems of the logic of questions, the proposals of Nuel Belnap, David Harrah, Tadeusz Kubiński, and Andrzej Wiśniewski in particular. These systems have created impressions similar to what Łukasiewicz described as “incredibly pithy and extremely resistant construction” but this impression is accompanied by another which is not mentioned by Łukasiewicz. In becoming familiar with these ideal systems, I have felt a strong need for the intuitive analysis of “thoughts and ideas” which lay at the base of them. I have an impression that it would be profitable to return to the intuitive basis of these systems and to analyze it in a language different from the language in which they were formulated. I am convinced, in contrast to Łukasiewicz, that it is possible to make it precisely by the use of adequately prepared natural language.

Introduction

17

This conviction is difficult to justify in short (I make some remarks on it in Chapter V). Thus, let this book stand not as a proper justification, but as a kind of confirmation of the statement that such a procedure is possible and that it sometimes leads to a better “thought elucidation” of the explored area. The book is thus intended as a par excellence philosophical monograph of the theory of questions, presenting the most important erotetic problems, its general background and selected practical applications. It is a monograph prepared in all fairness to results acquired in the framework of the logical theories of questions but goes beyond this framework. The content of the book is divided into three parts: preparatory, theoretical, and practical. In the preparatory part, I present the philosophical − in particular semiotic, ontological, and epistemological − basis of the theory of questions. The analysis of erotetic problems in my approach requires the modifications of some commonplace opinions in these areas. The first part is also the place where I introduce the conceptual scheme used in remaining parts of the book. In the theoretical part, I present an analysis of the basic erotetic concepts. Making use of previously established conceptual scheme, I propose a semiotic analysis of questions and answers, their components, their grammatico-logical form and of the relations between elements of erotetic situation. The term ‘theory’ is understood here very broadly: a given theory, taken in such a broad sense, contains such elements as the definitions and theses concerning types, structures, and functions of the objects explored. In the practical part, I consider some of the applications of erotetic objects, seen through the prism of results presented in previous parts. I take into consideration both general methodological issues and the specific problems of particular disciplines. I concentrate mostly on the disciplines of the broadly understood humanities; I do not examine the applications of the theory of questions in information studies or mathematics. The book does not contain any systematic review of former erotetic conceptions since one may find many such reviews in erotetic literature (see “References”). In the main text of the book, I generally express only the results of my own research − but of course many of these results are to some degree inspired by my predecessors (I usually emphasize such inspirations in the footnotes). It sometimes transpired that I discovered some filiations ex post − after an independent rethinking of the problem.

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Theory of Questions

More detailed and especially polemical analyses of the various erotetic conceptions of a given problem are collected in separate sections entitled “Historical and Polemical Comments,” situated at the end of every chapter.1 By this arrangement of the text, I imitate an already existing tradition − including the first Polish monograph of the theory of questions by Kubiński. In the “Conclusion,” I summarize the most important results of the dissertation and I emphasize those aspects of explored problems which were only highlighted and require further, more detailed analysis. The “References” includes only positions to which I referred in the text of the book since a complete erotetic bibliography would probably occupy hundreds of pages. Erotetic literature is very rich and it is probable that I did not account some important positions and this is why I cannot be sure that some of the solutions presented as my own were not published earlier. The book is enriched by an “Index of Names” which can be of importance to the historically oriented reader. My terminological strategy requires few remarks. In the domain of erotetics, as in almost every discipline, there is a certain terminological disorder. There is no one uniform conceptual scheme accepted by the whole community of theorists of questions and, for this reason when erotetic literature is taken as a whole, one may frequently encounter ambiguity and its opposite: multinominality.2 I have tried to remove these semiotic defects, respecting the postulate of concordance: there should be one-to-one correspondence between terms and concepts.3 Sometimes, I chose one of the many terms ascribed to a given concept by various authors; sometimes I ascribe different terms to different concepts named by the same term in the literature. The need to introduce a new term also appears in the situation in which a concept constructed in the course of my considerations differs considerably from concepts used traditionally. These facts explain the relatively large number of neologisms introduced in the book. But let me emphasize that I am not attached to such a fixed form of the terminology since I treat words only as a tool which enables me to communicate my ideas.

1

I omit the “Historical and Polemical Comments” only in the first chapter − since the area discussed in this chapter is so broad that I would be obliged to deal with the whole history of philosophy. 2 A notion is multinominal if and only if at least two different expressions are ascribed to it. 3 Criteria of terminological correctness are analyzed in Brożek (2005a) and (2005b).

Introduction

19

One of terms used in this book requires a special remark: the term ‘erotetics’ referring to the theory of questions. I am aware that this term is used in the literature only sporadically (the term ‘erotetic logic’ is more widespread). However, I decided to make use of this term, since – in opposition to the term ‘theory of questions’ – it meets most requirements laid towards scientific terms. It is a simple (one-word) term, Greek-rooted and easily translatable to many European ethnic languages. The book recurs to the results of researches presented in my book Pytania i odpowiedzi. Tło teoretyczne, teoria, zastosowania praktyczne (Semper, Warszawa 2007) and some other publcations (Brożek 2007b; 2008; 2009). In comparison with this Polish book, the views offered in the present one are considerably modified and generalized. I draw, i.a., an important part of the historical background of my researches, namely the history of erotetics in Poland. The analysis of embedded questions was also deepened. I was able to take an essential step forward in my inquire thanks to comments and criticism of the specialists in the area of logic and philosophy. Let me here express my great gratitude to all who have shared their observations with me, especially to reviewers of my Polish book, mentioned above, i.e., Prof. Anna Jedynak, Prof. Witold Marciszewski, Prof. Adam Nowaczyk, and Prof. Andrzej Wiśniewski, and to those who shared with me their remarks whenever I presented them any parts of my ideas, i.e., Prof. Johannes Brandl, Prof. Jacek Jadacki, Prof. Edgar Morscher, and Prof. Paul Weingarter. As examples, I use English questions, since the monograph is written in English but sometimes I refer to examples borrowed from other ethnic languages, since some erotetic phenomena can be more easily demonstrated in them. A great part of questions and answers used as examples are taken from musicology or from the history of Salzburg. I use musicological examples simply for the reason that this discipline is especially close to my extra-philosophical interests. I introduce examples concerning Salzburg since I prepared the book during my one-year scholarship in this beautiful city. Only in the historical and polemical comments sections do I usually use examples discussed by the authors to which I refer.

PART I PHILOSOPHICAL BACKGROUND

The Structure of the First Part In the first part of the book, I will prepare the conceptual basis which is necessary to present the conception of questions and answers given in the second part. This part is composed of four chapters: In the first, I introduce the necessary conceptual and terminological regulations which will serve as a tool in the analysis of the semiotic functions of all expressions (of questions only in particular). The second chapter concerns the concept of semiotic function and it contains a systematization of various semiotic functions. In this chapter, I also introduce the concept of the communicative function of expression, different from both traditionally understood semantic and pragmatic functions. I consider the communicative level of a description of languages as the most convenient in erotetic considerations. I am convinced that an adequate analysis of erotetic issues can only be conducted if it is placed in general semiotic framework: the analysis of the sense of questions and answers cannot be separated from the analysis of functions of other expressions and this is why the third chapter contains the analysis of semiotic functions of sentences and may be treated as an introduction to the analysis of questions. Finally, in the fourth chapter, I present the apparatus of Ajdukiewicz’s semantico-categorical analysis and propose some modifications of its traditional version. In the second part of the book, the semantico-categorical analysis is used as a tool in the structural description of questions.

CHAPTER I ONTOLOGICAL AND EPISTEMOLOGICAL PRELIMINARIES 1. A Natural Picture of the World Questions, as well as other linguistic expressions, are used by people to communicate the content of their thoughts. Experiences expressed by language expressions − and indirectly expressions as such − refer to some extra-linguistic objects.4 In order to indicate what characterizes questions as a special kind of expressions, one needs to have at his disposal a sufficiently rich conceptual scheme which contains some parts of ontological, epistemological, and semiotic conceptual schemes. As the point of departure of ontological distinctions, let us take a natural picture of the world, i.e., such a worldview which spontaneously imposed on us by a before- or supra- reflective attitude. It is obvious that people categorize reality spontaneously, i.e., they naturally distinguish some kinds of beings. In reality which is around us, we first of all distinguish things, properties which are possessed by these things, and the relations which hold between them. Things are also the objects of changes; changes are events which are joined in processes. I suppose that such a description of the natural picture of the world reflects not only my natural worldview. 5 This natural, “innate” categorization of the world is modified along with the personal intellectual development of a man, together with his individual reflection and acquaintance with scientific theories based on complicated conceptual nets. Considering the picture of the world, it is worth distinguishing the concept of the ontic category from the concept of analytic category. The first concept is connected to the Aristotelian tradition while the second is to the Kantian.6 Ontic categories are the most general classes of elements 4 It is of course a certain brachylogy here. I mean that if we use a language L, then expressions of L refer − generally − to objects, which are not expressions of L; but they may refer to expressions of a language L′, different from L. 5 A suggestive description of such a picture was proposed by Tatarkiewicz ([1947] 1971). 6 This concept is characterized more precisely in Brożek (2007b).

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Theory of Questions

of reality and analytic categories are ways of ordering reality or experience. Let us assume that we have ontic categories of things and properties at our disposal and additionally the relation of possessing. That a given object possesses a given property is a certain situation. Analytic categories enable us to treat a situation as an object to which we refer − i.e., as an individual − in order to state something about it. Thus, I can consider situations as individuals which possess some properties and may be arguments of relations. Thanks to the use of analytic categories, any object possessing a “higher” ontological order in the natural picture of the world − may be considered as the first-order object of a given theory. 2. Schematization and Simplification Let us call all and only spatio-temporal objects − i.e., things as well as their properties, relations holding between them, and processes which take place on them − “particular objects.”7 Particular objects are perceptible by senses and,8 as a sui generis realist, I assume that not all perceptible objects are, were or will be really experienced by somebody. Particular objects are not the only objects of our thoughts which can somehow be used by us. In various disciplines, as well as in everyday situations, we sometimes deal with non-particular objects. I have in mind especially objects to which we usually refer with terms as ‘abstract objects’ or ‘universal objects’. However, these terms are used by philosophers in many senses, differing one from another significantly. Let me indicate some of these senses, since they are important in our further investigations. One of the mental operations which we may conduct on particular objects is schematization. The schematisation of a given object consists in assigning elements of this object to elements of other, simpler objects − e.g., assigning elements of a real concert by Henryk Wieniawski to elements of a drawing depicting this concert.

7 I am aware that not everybody agrees that there are some particular properties and relations but I hope that at least the particularity of (some) processes are unquestionable. 8 Sometimes it requires strengthening of sentences by appropriate tools.

Ontological and Epistemological Preliminaries

27

Antoni Uniechowski, Henryk Wieniawski Playing before Kaiser Franz Joseph. In: Czekalski 1964, after p. 136.

The process of thinking is also a kind of schematization if we agree that some elements of our thoughts correspond to some elements of reality. In particular, every mental presentation of a particular situation, such as the Wieniawski’s concert, is schematic. Let us call a product of schematization of a given object − “a picture of this object.” The schematization of a given object − including the mental picturing of it − is usually accompanied by a simplification. Simplification consists in omitting some elements of the schematized object by schematization. For instance, when we create a picture of a situation in which Wieniawski plays before Kaiser Franz Joseph and his court, we omit both the time and place of this event as well as events which preceded the concert and followed it. A “simplificative” schematization consists of the selection of certain elements of a schematized object and omission of others. In this sense, schematization may be called “abstracting-from” some elements or aspects of the schematized object. Simplification may also be understood as variabilization of some properties of the schematized object, i.e., the mental replacement of them by appropriate aspects.9 We may say that Wieniawski played before the Kaiser at a certain time and in a certain place, that some events preceded the concert and some followed it. Of course, we may go further and continue “the variabilization” of the analyzed situation. We may think of a situation in

9

The concept of aspect is analyzed in Brożek (2006a); see especially Chs. IX and XI.

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Theory of Questions

which somebody played before Kaiser Franz Joseph, somebody played before somebody, somebody made something before somebody, etc. Abstraction sensu stricto consists in mentally isolating some of the dependent parts of an analyzed object from it, e.g., the mental isolation of the brown color from a certain brown violin, or the isolation of the pitch “a 1 ” from a heard sound. 3. Universalization and Generalization One should distinguish abstraction and schematization from universalization. If I isolate a certain property from a given real situation − e.g., I isolate a pitch from a sound performed at a given moment by Konstanty Kulka − I obtain a certain particular property which is possessed only by this particular sound (i.e., a trope of this sound). The property I obtain is a certain abstracted object but it does not become thereby a universal property. In other words, I cannot say − without additional assumptions − that this abstracted property of a sound performed by Kulka − is the same property which is possessed by another sound, performed by Kaja Danczowska. However, it is the fact that we make use of the concept of universal property, saying that if various objects are the same or indistinguishable in some respects, they share the same property (speaking more strictly − they fall under the same universal property). Now, when I schematize and simplify a given situation such as a situation in which Kulka performs a sound of a given pitch, omitting the time and place of that event, then I also do not obtain a situation which could happen in another time and place, in which Kulka also performs a sound of the same pitch. Omitting − or variabilization − of some elements of an analyzed object does not make the result of this operation a non-particular object. But it is a fact that we make use of the concept of the universal object, in the sense that there are many particular objects which fall under this universal one. I suppose that our ease of making use of universal objects has its source in our ability to universalize. Universal objects − such as brown-in-general, playing-in-general, violinist-in-general − are treated suspiciously by some philosophers. Logicians (or “logicoidal” philosophers) are usually inclined to reduce universal objects to sets of individuals or sequences of individuals. Perhaps these philosophers think of the universalization of property as of numbering this property among elements of a given set. I am not a

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29

supporter of set-theoretical interpretation of universal objects; I rather prefer to consider them as incomplete beings.10 I do not want to bring this problem to a head, since it plays no important role in this book. However, whenever I use the concept of a universal object, I shall think of it as a schematised construction of our thoughts rather than as of a set. Sometimes, from among all the properties of a given particular object, we distinguish essential ones. If we abstract the essential properties from a given particular object and then we universalize such a reduced construction − i.e., we universalize a whole composed of essential properties − we obtain an object of a special type, namely a kind (genus). So, if we mentally separate from Wieniawski his height, weight, hair color, etc., and we only keep properties which are the components of being-violinist, and then we universalize such an object, we obtain something that may be called a violinist-in-general (resp. the idea of a violinist). I shall call such mental activity “a generalization.” The ability of generalizing and the tendency to it is connected to the capacity of categorization. Indeed, a basis of generalization lays in isolating in reality some classes of similar objects, i.e., categories (ontic categories, in particular). Essential properties of objects − which become after universalization elements of kinds − are those properties of a given object which are “shared” with other objects. 4. Idealization Generalization is usually connected with idealization. It is not easy to say generally what generalization consists of so I shall limit myself here to an example. Let us consider a particular gong and assume that it is a gong pictured in the following illustration:

10

The term ‘incomplete object’ was explicated by Jadacki (1998, Section 20); see also Brożek (2006a, Ch. XI).

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Theory of Questions

Let us now abstract some particular properties from it − e.g., its roundness and its being 50 cm in diameter. As everybody knows, a circle is a set of points equally distant from a given point, called “the centre”; a diameter is a line connecting two points of a circle, passing through its centre. In fact, our particular gong is not round, because not every point of its rim are equally distant from the centre. It is also a fact that its diameter is not exactly 50 cm. Idealization in this case consists in ignoring these “deviations” and assuming that it is a gong, ideally round and having a diameter of exactly 50 cm. Sometimes we construct universal and ideal objects in order to represent other objects, especially particular ones, by them. Since universal objects are epistemologically “monosubjective,” the role of representation is usually played by some particular, suitably schematized objects. Our particular gong could for example be represented by the following particular scheme: 11

11

Of course the previous illustration is also a picture of a particular gong, only a more precise one.

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31

In the second part, I shall use particular, schematic representations as graphical illustrations of some objects of the domain of the erotetic. I will not decide here whether the objects described above, being results of schematization, generalization and idealization, are dependent or independent from human thought but my opinion is that their genesis lies in the operations of the human mind. It is obvious for me that we make use of such objects in many situations and that they are − to some degree − intersubjective objects. The fact that the results of mental operations conducted by various people are similar may be explained by the similarity of cognitive apparatus (senses, brains, etc.) which representatives of our species have at their disposal. I am inclined to claim that the process of thinking consists, at least to some degree, of the simplificative schematization of reality. Scientific thinking − formulating laws and definitions, putting forward hypotheses, etc. − cannot exist without generalization and idealization. There is also no doubt that my presentation of the theory of questions is based on these operations. 5. Presentations Let us now characterize some epistemological objects: presentations, convictions, and volitional acts. Let us assume that somebody is currently listening to a recital by Konstanty Kulka: he is watching him play and listening to his performance. On the basis of these sensory impressions, there appears in the mind of this person a presentation of the situation. Not every presentation is based on perception directly. According to the well-established Austrian-Polish tradition, one distinguishes perceptive, reproductive and productive presentations. Perceptive presentations are based on extra- and introspection: they are somehow transformed impressions. Reproductive presentations consist of a reproduction of previous perceptive presentations by the memory. Productive presentations are not simply reproductions of past presentations: they are products of our fancy; however, they are to some degree based on past perceptive presentations.12

12

Since every presentation − perceptive, reproductive, and productive − possess some creative elements, it would be better to classify presentations with respect to the amount of creative elements: the smallest in the case of perceptive presentations, the biggest in the case of productive presentations.

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Theory of Questions

While I am at Konstanty Kulka’s recital, I am watching and listening him playing the capriccio of Niccolo Paganini. A day, a week or a year after the concert, I may recall these impressions but I can also − during Kulka’s concert or at any other time − imagine that it is not Kulka playing (but Kaja Danczowska) or that it is not Paganini’s capriccio (but Wieniawski’s one).13 In this book, I shall call presentations of situations − “pictures of situations.” But let me stress that I use the term ‘picture’ in a strictly technical sense: the word ‘picture’ not always refer to visual picture or even any sensory one. 6. Epistemic States The next important concept which needs to be explicated here, at least provisionally, is the concept of conviction. We presume the truthfulness of many pictures of situations that we possess in our mind, i.e., we presume that they are pictures of reality, not just products of our fancy. A conviction is a special attitude towards a picture of a situation: an attitude consisting of the acceptance that this picture refers to reality. Thus, every conviction possesses a basic presentation. I explicate the relation between conviction and accepting (resp. rejecting) as follows: x is convinced that p (resp. ~p) ↔ x accepts (resp. rejects) the sentence ‘p’ as a truth This formula can be also transformed into a shape with a copula of identity: the conviction of x that p = accepting the sentence ‘p’ as a truth by x Such a formula suggests that the term ‘conviction’ is definable in a classical way: the genus of the definition is ‘accepting’ and the differentia specifica is − ‘as a truth’. In such an approach, conviction is a kind of acceptance and ‘acceptance’ (‘to accept’) is a primitive term. But if we consider the functor ‘to accept’ as a three-argument functor (see the formula ‘x accepts y as z’), then the analyzed formulas certify only the 13

Using Jerzy Perzanowski’s terminology − one may call mental modifications of situations “recombinations.” See, e.g., Perzanowski (2006).

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33

fact that a certain two-argument predicate (‘x is convinced that p’) is explicable through a certain three-argument predicate (‘x accepts ‘p’ as a truth’); both predicates are equally primitive. I will make some additional remarks concerning the concept of conviction in Chapter II: here I will merely stress the fact that there are many various kinds of convictional attitudes (in other words: convictions may have various degrees). Let us call generally convictions and their kinds − “epistemic states.” The majority of the convictions of a given person are only potential: in a given moment we are able to actualize only one conviction from among all other potential ones. Let us call presentations that are contents of our potential convictions − “intentionally adequate presentations.” A sum of all the intentionally adequate presentations of a given person − is a picture of the world of that person.14 Every intentionally adequate picture is a simplification with respect to the reality it reflects. But we have the ability to realize this “simplificative” character of our convictions. In other words, we sometimes become aware of gaps in our picture of the world. Realizing a gap in a picture of a situation is a point of departure for the posing of questions. 7. Volitional States Let us now concentrate on volitional states (or acts). Such states (i.e., wanting, desiring, longing) are also based on presentations. 15 Volitional states − as well as epistemic states − may have various degrees of intensity; this fact is partially reflected in a variety of natural language expressions used to communicate these states. Nevertheless, the classification of volitional states with respect to their intensity is not so important here as the classification of them with respect to their object. Let us distinguish two types of volitional states: 14

Let me stress that only convictional presentations are included in the picture of reality. Not every presentation is of convictional character. For instance, images of fictional situations do not belong to the picture of the world. A sound person in normal conditions distinguishes simply presentations of reality (strictly speaking − presentations which pretend to be presenting reality) from fantasies. Only psychically ill persons have problems with distinguishing them. 15 After Ajdukiewicz − I sharply distinguish drives from acts of will. Instinct drives (when we are saying “I want to listen to music,” “I want to eat something”) do not consist of a certain attitude to the picture of situation; in contrary, it happens in the case of acts of will.

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Theory of Questions

acts directed at some external objects and acts directed at some internal objects, i.e., one’s own mental states. Volitional acts directed at external objects are expressed by sentences such as ‘I want to go to that concert’ or ‘I want to learn to play the piano’. Volitional acts stated in such sentences refer to external world; they possess certain external, real, future states of affairs as their objects.16 Occurrences of volitional acts directed at mental states are expressed by expressions such as ‘I want to remember that concert forever’, ‘I want to stop being afraid of public performances’. Some such volitional acts directed at mental states, acts concerning our knowledge in particular, are expressed (or revealed) in questions. 8. Thinking and Using the Language Let me now mention some observations concerning the cognition of the world and interpersonal communication. I am aware that my words may seem to be naive and banal. But I am trying to report the most basic introspective experiences, hoping that these experiences are also familiar to my readers. My introspection prompts me that my mind is able to schematize reality. Since I know some facts concerning the structure of my sense organs and about capacities of my brain, I guess that I receive some sensory stimuli which are later “worked out” in my brain. Thanks to that, there appear perceptive presentations, which are subsequently kept in my memory. I am able to recall some of my past experiences and, by recalling them from my memory, there appear reproductive presentations. I am also able to imagine that the reality is different than it is in fact, e.g., I can imagine that I am a dainty blonde (in fact I am tall and have dark hair). I consider experiencing, recalling experiences and imaging as reproducing and producing images. Thus, my thinking consists, at least sometimes, in schematization. When I use language, I do it, among others, in order to communicate the content of my thoughts to other people. For instance, when I utter a certain sentence with a conviction, I communicate this conviction to somebody. Other people, using language, communicate their thoughts to me. In simple, daily-life situations, I note that people refer to certain situations by the use of the same words or at least words similar to those

16

However it happens that we want some object (e.g., a concert) to last longer: in such a situation we do not want a certain inconspicuous change to happen.

Ontological and Epistemological Preliminaries

35

used by me in similar situations. This allows me to legitimately suspect that other people, just like me, create pictures of the world, possess some convictions and use language in order to communicate them. It also allows me to think that other people categorize reality and create universal objects in a way similar to my way of categorizing and universalizing reality. And it is no wonder since other people have similar sensory organs, similar brains, etc., as I do. The phenomenon of efficient communication is also something which allows us to separate the content of expressions from the thoughts of their users. If other people use language in a similar way to me, I have the right to suspect that the content of their thoughts corresponds to the content of my thoughts and I have the right to separate the content of thoughts from the process of thinking. Such operations are an essential part of every theoretical description of language.

CHAPTER II SEMANTICS AND PRAGMATICS 1. Natural Languages versus Artificial Languages Natural language differs from artificial language in many respects, including their functions. The main function of natural language is the communication of people’s experiences; the main function of artificial languages is the representation of reality. The expressions of a scientific text (mathematical, chemical, musicological, etc.) refer “directly” to reality. The author of a scientific text and his experiences has no value for science; to put it bluntly, he and his experiences should be “invisible” in scientific texts since his aim is to say something about the reality he explores. For that reason, the best medium for the transmission of such content are indicative sentences, which are interpreted by the receiver of the text as expressions referring to some objects of a given domain. Indeed, indicative sentences fulfill such a function. They state occurrences of some extra-linguistic states of affairs.17 This function of indicative sentences underlies logical semantics in which states of affairs are represented as certain set-theoretical objects treated as representations of the sense of expressions. Natural language is, first of all, a language of everyday communication. It serves as a tool for transferring the contents of experiences between its users: convictional, emotional as well as volitional. On the one hand, some experiences motivate senders to make use of this rather than another expression; on the other hand, by expressions, these experiences are revealed to receivers. Of course, indicative sentences in natural language say something about the external reality, but above all they say something about the internal states of the sender and in particular about his epistemic states and acts (convictions, judgments, doubts, assumptions, etc.). Besides indicative sentences, in natural language there also occur questions and orders (interrogative and

17

In particular, sentences of language L′ state the occurrence of states of affairs external with respect to L′ but of course they may concert a language L″, different from L′.

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Theory of Questions

imperative sentences). They also fulfill some specialized semiotic functions: they are motivated by special experiences which are revealed by them. Moreover, the connection between questions or orders and mental states is even more evident than in the case of indicative sentences. Notice that neither questions nor orders belong to the heart of the matter of scientific texts and, if they appear in such texts, they are used for didactic or stylistic reasons. In natural language, however, they play an essential role. As a rule, in logical theories of languages, one does not connect expressions to such “ephemeral” objects as experiences.18 In intuitive descriptions of the sense of expressions one mentions experiences as important elements of communicative situations, but no use is made of them in the process of constructing semantic theories. I suppose the reason for this is a common conviction that the experiences that motivate us to utter a given expression are difficult to identify and are connected with the shape of expressions only very loosely. This is the reason for difficulties with the application of logical theories to natural language; logical approaches consider “extrapersonal” representations as the basic function of expressions; natural language is, first and foremost, a tool of interpersonal communication. Logicians are aware of differences between natural and artificial languages, but they are accustomed to explaining them with the distinction between semantics and pragmatics. The functions of natural language expression connecting expressions to experiences are traditionally included to the domain of pragmatics. The problem is that the difference between concepts traditionally attached to the terms ‘semantics’ and ‘pragmatics’ fades away. 2. The Sense of Questions: Intuitions The basic intuition which lies behind analyzes of the semiotic functions of questions presented in this book may be expressed as follows: questions communicate the will of filling a gap in intentionally adequate pictures of situations. For instance, the question (1)

18

Who loved Constanze Weber?

It may be also a reflection of anti-psychological tendencies which were of a special importance at the turn of the 19th and the 20th centuries.

Semantics and Pragmatics

39

refers to an intentionally adequate picture of the situation consisting of the existence of the relation of love between two objects and a gap in the first argument of this relation (the second argument is known). I am convinced that a special combination between cognitive elements (intentional adequacy contained in conviction) and volitional elements (the will of completing the conviction) in the sense of questions distinguish them as a peculiar category of expressions. My aim is to define such a level of description of language in which these components of the sense of questions could be uniformly characterized. The problem is that this desired level lies somewhere outside the classical division of semiotic domain in semantics and pragmatics. Notice that, on the one hand, when we talk about convictions of a user of a sign, and especially about volitional states, we situate these investigations in the domain of pragmatics. On the other hand, pragmatics is usually described as the area of semiotics in which one takes into consideration the context of the utterances. My idea is that components of the sense of questions (schematically described above) may be indicated acontextually. It seems that in order to capture the specific nature of the semiotic functions of questions, one should first analyze concepts of pragmatics and semantics in general and propose (at least for the purpose of these considerations) a kind of new systematization of sub-domains of semiotics. 3. Semantics and Pragmatics Many logicians accuse other scientists of the lack of precision at expressing thoughts and the lack of clarity in distinctions introduced by them. However, one may accuse many logicians − and not only third-rate ones − of the same sin. It happens that logicians express their thoughts imprecisely, they use vague terms and introduce unclear distinctions.19 It is also the fact in case of texts concerning the relation between semantics and pragmatics. The terms ‘semantics’ and ‘pragmatics’, as well as their derivatives ‘semantic’ and ‘pragmatic’ are used in various senses and in reference to various objects. For instance, we talk about pragmatic or semantic concepts, pragmatic or semantic description of language, pragmatic or 19

It concerns not only “informal” comments to formal texts. Let us remember that formal texts are susceptible to various interpretations, and very often we do not know which of them is at play.

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Theory of Questions

semantic approach to linguistic problems. Traditionally, the distinction between semantics and pragmatics is characterized by the type of relations examined by them; semantics concerns the relations between signs and extralinguistic objects, whereas pragmatics, the relations between signs and their users. But these characteristics are very general and vague and thus may be interpreted in different way. On the basis of such general definitions it is of course difficult to realize which elements of the description of language belong to semantics and which ones have to be located in the domain of pragmatics. The table below shows the most important senses in which the terms ‘semantics’ and ‘pragmatics’ are used contemporaneously: SEMANTICS

PRAGMATICS

(A) examines relations between (A) examines relations between signs and extraliguistic reality signs and users or context (resp. between signs and their possible interpretations) (B) is a theory of reference and (B) is a theory of occasionalisms truth (or indexical expressions), prepositional attitudes, presuppositions, implicatures, and speech acts (C) concerns functions of expres- (C) concerns functions of expressions-types, considered outside the sions-tokens, considered in a given context context (D) is a formal descriptions of (D) is an informal description of language language Besides that, there exist also the linguistic sense of the term ‘semantics’ (see next section) and the term ‘pragmatic’ is also used as a synonym of ‘practical’ or ‘connected to the practice’. Consider the senses listed in the table more precisely. Let us start from semantics. The characteristic (B) is often used instead of vague Morris-like characteristics and those who do so probably assume that reference and truth are the only relations between signs and reality.20 Some formal logicians are inclined to identify semantics with formal descriptions of language in which expressions assigned to some set-theoretical objects; all other descriptions of language are treated as 20

Notice that to say that truthfulness of sentences is a kind of their connection to reality (or a kind of relation) is of course a certain brachylogy. Truthfulness is not a relation but a property of sentences possessed with respect to their connection to reality.

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non-semantic ones.21 It is probably the result of an incredible success of Tarski’s model theory and his conception of truth. Similarly as in the case of semantics, the vague “connotational” characteristics of pragmatics is sometimes replaced by listing what kinds of particular problems lie at the heart of the interest of “pragmaticians.” Sometimes one talks about a pragmatic point of view or a pragmatic point of departure of a given theory having in mind an informal exploration of the domain of language (the version (D)). It is easy to notice that the various “vertical” characteristics of semantics and pragmatics (presented in the above table) are not equivalent. For instance: (a) (b) (c) (d)

it is not a case that reference and truthfulness are the only relations between signs and reality; it is not a case that occasionalisms, prepositional attitudes, implicatures and speech acts are the only objects tangled up in relations between signs, and users or a context; it is not a case that all phenomena traditionally included into pragmatics are described on expressions-tokens (see, e.g., suppositions); it is not a case that pragmatic phenomena are examined only informally: now there are many systems of formal pragmatics.

Let us consider some additional difficulties appearing on the border of pragmatic, semantic and, if I might add, syntactic approach to language. Synonymy is usually considered as a syntactic relation. But let us ask: when are two expressions synonymous? We usually say: the expression x is synonymous with the expression y iff x refers to the same objects as y. As we can see, from behind the syntactical relation of synonymy a threeargument relation with a semantic component can be seen: reference to certain objects. At first glance, it seems that the relation of isomorphism is purely syntactic but, practically, we never use the concept of isomorphism as such. Again, we should rather say that: an expression x is isomorphic to an expression y according to the person z. And this is three-argument relation of mixed, syntactic-pragmatic nature. 21

The term ‘semantics’ was used in a specific sense by L. Chwistek and his pupils. They defined ‘semantics’ as an axiomatized “science concerning expressions,” where axioms are “simple rules of operating (or manipulating) on expressions represented as logical formulas”; the primary relation of semantics such understood is a (syntactic!) relation of being-a-part-of occurring between expressions. Such semantics were designed as a basis for the reconstruction of all logic and mathematics. See Chwistek ([1935] 1948).

42

Theory of Questions

Consider now the relation of denoting which is traditionally classified as a semantic one. It is obvious that no expression as such denotes something: it only may be used in order to denote something. So, we have again a ternary relation: a person o denotes the object z by the expression y − with a pragmatic component. Pragmatic relations generate similar problems. Firstly, notice that not every relation between expressions and their users are of semiotic and a fortiori pragmatic character. Consider the relation of listening to something. The fact that a certain person listen to a certain expression is not a semiotic fact. Only listening-to enriched by understanding may be treated as a semiotic relation. But understanding is not a purely pragmatic relation, since we have: a person o understands an expression y as a sign of z. So, we have a ternary: pragmatico-semantic relation. One candidate for a purely pragmatic relation is expressing but, strictly speaking, we do not say an expression x expresses the person p; but we say an expression x expresses the experience e of a person p. Even if an experience of a given person is a sui generis part of this person, the relation holds between an expression and a part (or state) of the user, and not the user himself. 4. Logical (Pure) Semantics and Linguistic (Descriptive) Semantics The term ‘semantics’ is used in logic with reference to a branch of semiotics as well as in linguistics. Logical semantics and linguistic semantics possess the same origin but different assumptions, different methods, and different aims. Let me highlight the most basic differences, conditioning that disparities I mention are exaggerated a little bit.22 The most popular way of practicing logical semantics took shape in the 30s of the 20th century, when the most important works of Alfred Tarski and Rudolf Carnap were published. Generally speaking, logical semantics is a theory of formalized languages; its theses concern natural language only under the condition that natural language may be exposed to formalization. In such semantics, certain set-theoretical objects are assigned to expressions of a formalized language. Commonly, usage of the set-theoretical apparatus in semantic research is accompanied by the equally common conviction that the set theory may be treated as the most general theory of reality (scil. ontology). By the way, the set-theoretical 22

Note that logicians as well as linguists are used to exaggerating these differences.

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objects treated as correlates of formalized languages are sometimes called “ontology of these languages”; classes of these objects are called “ontic categories” (see, e.g., Nowaczyk 1987, p. 641). The sum of settheoretical objects, together with functions which assign these objects to expressions of formalized languages, constitutes the model of this language. One unquestionable advantage of logical semantics is its precision. A consequence of simplicity of set-theoretical objects − which are correlates of expressions in logical semantics − is that such semantics are especially suitable for the analysis of the language of mathematics and mathematized empirical theories. But it fits to natural language and to languages or the humanities to a much lesser extent, simply because these languages are categorially much more diversified. But although logico-semantic investigations attain a very high level of abstraction, natural language is always the point of departure of them. Every artificial language is similar − at least minimally − to natural language.23 Linguistic semantics, classically understood, suits to natural language to a much higher degree. It is a discipline which investigates the senses of natural language expressions and relations between these senses. Linguists declare that they propose a description of the sense of natural language expressions; their reresearch is based on empirical data and their own linguistic intuition. There are also some aspects of the theory of language which lay outside the area of interest of logical semantics but are of a great interest of linguists. I mean especially the history of semantic functions of expressions and etymology. 24 But one has to remember that neither logical semantics, nor linguistic semantics are monoliths. On the one hand, in linguistic semantics, new formal methods are appearing; on the other hand, some new trends in logical semantics are proposed as naturalizations of the description of languages. Generally, one may say that descriptions of language differ in the following respects:

23

This fact was emphasized by Koj, who rejects the Carnap’s thesis that definitions of logical semantics are purely conventional (see Koj 1971a). 24 One of exceptions is the dissertation of Suszko ([1957] 1988).

44 (a) (b) (c)

Theory of Questions

the theory of language may be more or less idealized; the theory of language may be more or less based on empirical research;25 the theory of language may be more or less based on conventions. 5. Semiotic Relations

5.1. The level of idealization of the description of language should be adequate to the aims of researches. There is no doubt that the traditional division into syntactic, semantic, and pragmatic level of the description of language is a great simplification. The place in which we situate the border between semantics and pragmatics may be based on many aspects and one should be aware of the diversity of these aspects, but the question of the border is not worth to go to the battle over it. A description of language consists of indicating semiotic relations occurring in this language − i.e., relations which have signs of this language as their arguments. In different descriptions of language one indicates different relations: they differ with respect to number and the kinds of arguments. Let me venture to propose a systematization of semiotic relations with respect to these criteria. I start with a characterization of types of semiotic relations. 5.2. It is obvious that signs are the first kind of arguments of semiotic relations: one may generally classify these arguments into signs and notsigns. The class of not-signs − as it usually happens in such binary classifications − is not homogeneous and contains various subcategories as users, their experiences, contents of these experiences, psychic phenomena, etc. Let us consider the class of signs or of language expressions in particular. One may talk about language expressions in various senses. Firstly, one should distinguish expressions-types (etype) from expressionstokens (e token ). Expressions-tokens are physical, particular objects: inscriptions or sounds. They are localized in space-time and are parts of reality. Expressions-types are products of the idealization of sets of 25

At first glance it seems that this condition is connected to the previous one. The more idealized the description is, the more it is distant from experience. But perhaps it is possible to idealize weakly established empirical knowledge about language or − in another words − our superstitions.

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tokens. One may consider them as sets of expressions-tokens or as incomplete objects.26 A distinction between types and tokens is important from the point of view of a relation between semantics and pragmatics. It is sometimes claimed that a kind of sign determines a kind of semiotic relation: semantic functions are fulfilled by expressions-types and pragmatic functions are fulfilled by expressions-tokens. Both expressions-types and expressions-tokens possess diversified syntactic structures. It is sometimes claimed that it is the syntactic structure of expression that determines its semiotic function. However, this claim is problematic. Let us assume that we have defined such terms as ‘name’, ‘sentence’, ‘functor’, etc. structurally (it is theoretically possible − we just can make a list of simple expressions of appropriate kinds and a list of operations needed to compose complex ones). Now we can assume that the semiotic function of expression depends only on its structure: names fulfill one function, sentences another, etc. In such a situation syntactic types of expressions are correlated with semantic functions of them and their parts: One says for example that all and only names designate something, all and only sentences state something, etc. 5.3. The second group of arguments of semiotic relations is composed of not-signs. In this rich and heterogeneous category one may distinguish many subcategories with respect to various principles. But first, let me mention that signs are also correlates of signs. Expressions may at the same time be parts of a given language and belong to the domain of objects of these language. That is why some language expressions may refer to other language expressions. Talking about the language inside the same language causes commonly known troubles (i.e., paradoxes of self-reference); one tries to prevent them by introducing the concept of meta-language. But it seems that at least sometimes we may speak about the language in the same language meaningfully and safely. For example, one may say that a certain inscription is difficult to read or that some utterance was hard to hear. But in such a situation we do not talk about these tokens as about signs. This leads to a more general remark. At least sometimes we treat objects not as “raw” parts of reality, but as (in Roman Ingarden’s way of speaking) the “appearances” of these parts, i.e., objects considered in some respects.

26

There is no place here to consider which of these two possibilities causes less difficulties, but let me mention once again that I prefer the second option.

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5.4. Users of signs are the first important subcategory of not-signs. We say that the sender of a sign utters it, uses it, applies it, knows rules of using it, etc.27 Talking about the user, we may have in mind one particular user, or an ideal (e.g., the so called “competent”) user. Such a user-in-general plays the same role with respect to particular users as is played by expressions-types with respect to expressions-tokens. However, such an idealization raises probably more objections than the idealization of inscriptions or sounds. The concept of user we have in mind is essential: the kind of the concept of user in the description of language phenomena is treated as the border between pragmatics and semantics. 5.5. The second important subcategory of not-signs is created by correlates of signs. And again it is worth making the reservation that the user of the sign may be at the same time its correlate. Every object may be a correlate of a sign.28 Let us distinguish some types of them which may be important in our investigations. Correlates of signs may be, first of all, various particular objects: things, properties, relations, states of affairs, events, etc. Of course, not everybody agrees that every particular object may serve as a correlate of expressions. A reist claims that the only proper correlates of expressions are things (concretes). In some semiotic conceptions, the role of correlates of signs may be also played by non-particular objects: fictional objects (as gnomes), purely-intentional objects (as musical compositions), and incomplete objects (as brown-in-general or violinist-in-general). According to some theorists, also every possible (i.e., non-contradictory) object may be a correlate of sign: possible situations, possible individuals, or possible relations. Finally, there are also thinkers who claim that even nonpossible (scil. contradictory) objects may serve as correlates. A kind of correlate of expression determines its semantic function according to those semioticians who claim for example that one semiotic function is played by expressions that refer to particulars, another by

27

Nb. I would not say that the receiver of the sign is its user. He may only know the rules of its usage. 28 One could even formulate a paradox of an object which is not a correlate of any sign. It would be a kind of paradox of self-reference.

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expressions referring to fictional objects and yet another one by expressions referring to ideal objects. 29 Sometimes some experiences or their contents − e.g., convictions, volitional states, emotions, images − are also treated as correlates of signs. It happens that semantics is distinguished from pragmatics as follows: semantic relations are relations connecting expressions with extralinguistic and extrapsychic objects; pragmatic relations are relations connecting them with psychic phenomena and their contents. Let us notice, further, that both aforementioned groups of correlates of expressions may be considered as set of particular correlates (correlates-tokens) or as a set of universal objects (correlates-types). One says that the term ‘baton’ refers (somehow) to particular batons as well as to set of batons (baton-in-general, baton-as-such). The sentence ‘this baton belongs to Herbert von Karajan’ may refer somehow to somebody’s particular conviction as well as to every conviction of the same, universalized content. 5.6. Special attention should be paid to those not-signs, which constitute the so-called extra-linguistic context (resp. circumstances of the utterance). Let us notice that context may also be taken particularly (context-token) and universally (context-type). 30 Into the context, sometimes experiences accompanying utterances (e.g., intentions) are included. We sometimes say that semiotic function of a given expression depends on the intention of the person who utters this expression.31 6. Idealization of the Description of Language 6.1. The kinds of arguments of semiotic relations, listed above, are connected in various ways. There are many possible combinations; not every of them were already used by theorists of language. A minimal semiotic relation is a binary relation and binds a sign to a certain not-sign (a correlate, a user or an element of context). But every 29

I confess that I also expressed such convictions with reference to names. In some of my previous works, I expressed a conviction that the function of designating connects names to particular objects; function of quasi-designating − to fictional objects and function of denominating − to incomplete objects. Today, I would not maintain this view. 30 The possibility of universalization of a context was noticed quite late − one may indicate at this moment as at the beginning of the so-called pure pragmatics. 31 This is how I understand some theses of the theory of speech acts.

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binary semiotic relation is a result of idealization (reduction of moreargument relations). Thus a binary relation is a result of schematization, simplification and generalization of arguments. I shall try to reconstruct this process. 6.2. The basic function of natural language consists of communication between people. Highly idealized semiotic relations, especially in artificial languages, seem to abandon this intuition. Relations between signs of formal languages and their correlates are described without paying any attention to the communicative aspect. But let me stress once again: natural language, as a language of everyday communication, is a model also for artificial languages, in which the connection between signs and correlates is chosen arbitrary. Consider a certain particular situation in which someone communicates something to somebody. Assume that in a certain place m1 and in certain time t 1 the person A says to the person B: 32 (2)

Fryderyk Chopin loved Konstancja Gładkowska.

Assume, furthermore, that person A is convinced that Fryderyk Chopin loved Konstancja Gładkowska and that the person A wants the person B to know that [the person A is convinced that]33 Fryderyk Chopin loved Konstancja Gładkowska.

32

Notice that there exists no satisfactory analysis of the relation of speaking-tosomebody. 33 If pronouncing a sentence by a certain person serves this person to communicate his convictions, then the bracket should be omitted. On the other hand, introspection suggests that when I am talking to somebody, then I am talking rather about reality than about the contents of my thoughts (despite expressions stating explicite something about my experiences). It is a very subtle problem and I am not able to resolve it here.

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Fryderyk Chopin loved Konstancja Gładkowska.

☺ One may say that the expression-token (2) in the time t 1 was uttered by the person A in order to transfer34 to the person B the conviction [of A] that Fryderyk Chopin loved Konstancja Gładkowska. Let us now analyze arguments of the semiotic situation described above. In this situation, there appears one expression-token (sentence-token ‘Fryderyk Chopin loved Konstancja Gładkowska’) and two particular persons: A and B. What is the semiotic correlate of the expression? We may answer this question at least doubly. According to the first interpretation, the semiotic correlate of the sentence uttered by the person A is A’s conviction that Fryderyk Chopin loved Konstancja Gładkowska. In this interpretation the role of correlate is played by a mental object, i.e., by a conviction of A. According to the second interpretation, a semiotic correlate of the discussed sentence is a certain situation: that Fryderyk Chopin loved Konstancja Gładkowska. In order to avoid misleading terminology, I shall denote analyzed relations by the letter ‘R’ with indexes. We have two possibilities: (3)

34

The person A by the use of the expression W is-R1 -ing to the person B the conviction of the person A, that Fryderyk Chopin loved Konstancja Gładkowska.

It would be better to say ‘to express convictions’. The problem is that the predicate ‘to express’ does not require the receiver of what is expressed. One expresses (something) simply, not “to somebody.” Maybe one could say that somebody “expresses something in a presence” of somebody. But “doing something in a presence of somebody” is too weak correlation between interlocutors.

50 (4)

Theory of Questions

The person A by the use of the expression W is R2 -ing to the person B the conviction of the person A that Fryderyk Chopin loved Konstancja Gładkowska.

In both cases, R-relation is a 4-argument one; in (3) it is a relation of ‘R-ing by the use of ’ ( _ by the use of _ is-R1 -ing _ _ ) and in (4) it is a relation of ‘R-ing the conviction by the use of ’ ( _ by the use of_ is R2 -ing _ the conviction that_ ). Relations R1 and R2 differ with respect to types of arguments: in R1 the role of the last argument is played by conviction, in R2 − it is played by the situation. It is easy to notice that the interpretation (4), after appropriate simplification, may lead to a relation connecting sentences with situations. But the status of the last argument in (4) is unclear. It may be interpreted, firstly, as a real state of affairs (a fact). Secondly, it may be treated as a situation taken universally (a possible situation). Thirdly, it may be a situation imagined by person A − i.e., the situation being a correlate of A’s thoughts. The fourth argument of the relation R1 (conviction that Fryderyk Chopin loved Konstancja Gładkowska) is by no means a mental object. Let us put aside the problem of ontic status of situation (I shall come back to it in the Chapter III) and concentrate on possible modifications of the considered semiotic relations. Our model situation may be extended by adding some extra arguments. For example: (5)

The person A at the time t 1 and place m1 , by the use of the expression W is R1 -ing to the person B the conviction of the person A, that Fryderyk Chopin loved Konstancja Gładkowska, in order to make the person B at the time t2 convinced that Fryderyk Chopin loved Konstancja Gładkowska.

But I am especially interested in the idealization of this situation by reduction of some arguments and generalization of remaining ones. 6.3. In the exemplary situation a sign-argument of the analyzed relation is an expression-token. Notice that if another person, e.g., C, says at the moment t 2 to the person D another token of the type (2), and if C is also convinced that Fryderyk Chopin loved Konstancja Gładkowska − then C also transfers (to D) the conviction that Fryderyk Chopin loved Konstancja Gładkowska. It is the conviction of the person C, not identical to the conviction of the person A, but similar to the A’s conviction with respect to the content and expressible by a token of the same type as the A’s one.

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Generalizing, we may say that tokens of the sentence-type (2) are suitable to express tokens of the conviction-type that Fryderyk Chopin loved Konstancja Gładkowska. If we agree to that, we may transform our exemplary semiotic situation to the form in which arguments of this relation are universal. 6.4. Let us analyze other reductions of arguments of semiotic relations. After variabilization of the third argument of the relation R1 (i.e., after “removing” the receiver of a sign) we obtain a ternary relation: (6)

The person A by the use of the expression W is R3 -ing the conviction of the person A that Fryderyk Chopin loved Konstancja Gładkowska.

Next, if we “remove” a sender, we obtain a binary relation: (7)

The expression W is R4 -ing the conviction that Fryderyk Chopin loved Konstancja Gładkowska.

We may also take the relation R2 as the point of departure of idealization. After appropriate “removals” we have: (8)

W is R 5 -ing that Fryderyk Chopin loved Konstancja Gładkowska.

Now, if we universalize both arguments in R4 and R5 , we get the relation between expression-type and a certain abstract situation. As one may see, only after these operations we obtain a typical semantic relation. 6.5. It often occurs that somebody utters an e token in a not-typical sense − i.e., his thoughts falls under another type than the thought-type ascribed to e type. For instance, somebody says ironically: (9)

Fryderyk Chopin loved George Sand.

having in mind something opposite: that Fryderyk Chopin did not love her. It would be a not-typical use of the sentence (9). All not-typical usages of language may be characterized only on some levels of description of language (not being too abstract). Not-typical usages are ignored in the process of idealization, just like we ignore deviations of the ideal circle when constructing its model. If we previously agreed that there is a binary semantic relation between the sentence-type (9) and the universalized conviction (or an abstract situation) that Chopin loved George Sand, then we are not able to characterize the phenomenon of irony. Universalizing the description of

52

Theory of Questions

semiotic functions − if these functions are to be “pure” relations between expressions and their correlates − must be based on typical utterances of expressions, so it has to be accompanied by idealization. It seems that such an idealization is admissible or even necessary in every scientific discipline.35 7. Communicative Function of Expressions Now, I would like to indicate the degree of idealization which is especially interesting for the sake of the analysis of questions. As I already recalled, semantic relations are usually described as binary relations between signs and their correlates. Notice that if semantic functions connect signs with reality passing over the user, then we are not able to make any sharp distinction between the function connecting the sentence (2) to reality and the function connecting the name ‘that Fryderyk Chopin loved Konstancja Gładkowska’ to reality. Both these expressions possess the same ontic correlate (see, e.g., Tałasiewicz 2006, pp. 43-44). But it is often claimed that (2) fulfills a semiotic function different from the function of the expression ‘that Fryderyk Chopin loved Konstancja Gładkowska’: one says that this expression denotes something, whereas the expression (2), as a sentence, states something. If it is so, then there is no way of distinguishing between stating and designating, if we do not take into consideration the way of how users employ these expressions, at least in typical situations. How can we theorize these facts? It seems that the best resolution consists of agreeing that some semiotic functions connect signs to reality with respect to a special kind of depiction of reality or − more generally speaking − through the type of mental activity which takes place during the utterance of an expression. 36 I shall call such semiotic functions of expressions “communicative functions.” I am convinced that communicative functions of expressions 35 Usually, we have a strong feeling what is a typical sense of a given expression − however it often happens also that previously we understand a given expression in an unliteral sense. For example − we understand spontaneously the expression ‘time flows’ in its metaphoric sense. 36 Another resolution consists of accepting that semantic functions connect expressions to reality without any respect to the user. But in such a situation there is only one semantic function. It would be difficult to hold the opinion that two expressions may refer to the same part of reality, fulfill different functions − but not with respect to various reader’s attitudes to reality.

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may be characterized by abstraction from typical usages of these expressions.37 For example, by the expression-token (2) we may express our conviction that Fryderyk Chopin loved Konstancja Gładkowska. This is a typical usage of this expression. Generally speaking, communicative function of sentences-types consists in that tokens of these types are suitable to express convictions. By the name-token ‘that Fryderyk Chopin loved Konstancja Gładkowska’ we may indicate a certain object, i.e., to communicate somebody what we are referring (or we are going to refer) to. Thus, the communicative function of names-tokens consists of the fact that tokens of these types are suitable to indicate objects. Let us generalize these remarks. Assume that the class of expression K is a class of expressions of a similar structure (I omit here the problem of structural similarity). We may say imprecisely that elements of K fulfill a certain communicative functions if all elements of K are suitable for something to what no expression from outside K is suitable. What are the arguments of communicative function of expressions? On the one hand, we have expressions-types, on the other hand − experiences-types (these experiences possess certain extra-psychic correlates). In this way, the communicative functions of expressions differ both from (classically understood) semantic functions and (classically understood) pragmatic functions. In my opinion, there is a specific communicative function fulfilled by questions. Questions are expressions suitable for communicating experiences consisting of gapped cognitive pictures of the world and the will to fill gaps in them. In the next chapter, I shall concentrate on the communicative functions of sentences and their components in order to prepare the ground for the description of communicative function of questions. One more distinction should be introduced here: we should contrast direct expressing and indirect expressing. Let us assume that the expression W is connected by a communicative function with a certain type of experiences P. If the user of a language makes use of expression W in order to express the experience of the type P, then he expresses his experiences directly (in other words − he uses this expression in accordance to its purpose). If the experience P is expressed by the expression other than W, then it is expressed indirectly.

37

A similar strategy was proposed by Koj (1972), pp. 24-26.

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Theory of Questions

8. Establishing Communicative Functions If we are going to establish what the communicative function of a certain category K of expressions (e.g., communicative function of names, sentences, questions, etc.) is, we should take into consideration two groups of properties of expressions of the category K. The first group is formed by structural (resp. syntactic) properties. One establishes what general structure is possessed by expressions of K (one may use here grammatical criteria, according to which sentences possess verbs in finite forms, typical names are nouns and questions, are expressions possessing question-marks and question-particles). The second type of properties are psychological − i.e., they are properties connected to the experiences of users. Let us remember that we may say that a certain class of expressions fulfills a certain communicative function always and only if expressions of this class are suitable for the communication of definite experiences. If we want to describe communicative function of expressions-types, we have to analyze typical situations in which tokens of these types are uttered, conditioning that this analysis should take into considerations also contents of experiences of users. It is not difficult to realize that two different utterances of the same expression-type may be accompanied by completely different experiences. We are able to characterize the definite communicative function of K only by assuming that there are some typical experiences which may be abstracted and connected to expressions of the type K as their communicative correlates. There arises an idea that in order to legitimate such an assumption, some empirical research is required (I mean research which aims to establish what experiences most frequently accompany utterances of given expressions). But usually, theorists of language appeal only to intuition: their own language intuition and intuitions of other logicians and linguists expressed by them in scientific dissertations.38 So, let us assume that in order to define the communicative function of expressions of a category K we have distinguished provisionally a category of expression-tokens of a characteristic syntactic structure and a class of expression-tokens which are accompanied by a certain type of experience. Let us sign the first class by the letter ‘S’, and the second − by the letter ‘P’. It is easy to guess that these two classes intersect.

38 It is worth noting here that linguists’ intuition − in comparison to logicians’ intuition − is usually much more subtle. On the other hand, logicians (usually) are superior to linguists with respect to the level of precision in formulating their intuitions.

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Thus, what is the way of defining a class of expressions which we may treat as expressions of the category K? It may be done in few ways. Firstly, one may take as the essential property of K only the syntactic or only the psychical property of expressions of K. Secondly, one may take a sum or an alternative of these properties as the essential one. Thirdly, one may try to find a more sophisticated characteristic of expressions of a given category, enriching structural or psychical property, their sum or their alternative by an additional one. There are reasons for which it is worth to distinguish a subclass containing typical elements of K, or, in other words, a class being a product of classes P and S. Investigating such a typical class (not peripheral one) may lead to the strict characterization of logical form and communicative properties of K. Other expressions of the broader class may be described as more or less strong deviations. 9. Communication and Representation At the end of this chapter, let me make some additional and general comments concerning the communicative function of language. If we take the fact that natural language serves as a tool of communicating the content of experiences seriously, then semantics understood as equipping natural language expressions with set-theoretical interpretation seems to be too idealized an approach to natural language. The approach in which natural language expressions are correlated to adequate experiences seems to be much more prolific. In my opinion, despite the whole diversity of linguistic phenomena and the whole abundance of experiences communicated by language it is possible to tie some types of expressions with some typical experiences. Such an approach to language contains certain psychological (or epistemological) elements: one assumes that some types of expressions are suitable for the communication of some types of experience. An adequate ontology for natural language is the ontology with an epistemological tinge, filtered by the structures of the human mind. Only such a level of description of language enables one to distinguish the way sentences refer to reality from the way names refer to it; the way questions refer to reality from the way orders do it. It is not important whether we call such a level “semantic” or “pragmatic.” To avoid misunderstandings, in this dissertation I call this function − scil. a function connecting expressions with typical experiences − a “communicative function.”

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It is worth noting that such a communicative function is based on the concept of representation. Experiences communicated by natural language expressions − cognitive and volitional experiences in particular − have some elements of reality as their correlates. If a sender of an expression communicates his conviction referring to a certain state of affairs by the use of a sentence, then he has to know (and assume that also the receiver knows) that the uttered sentence is suitable to represent a certain state of affairs. Thus communication is somehow connected to representation. In the end, let me come back to the differences between the scientific language of representation and the natural language of communication. In scientific texts one aims, first of all, to represent reality adequately and thus an important role is played by the concept of truth here. But the most important value of communication in everyday situations is its effectiveness. Let me add that the effectiveness of communication is independent of the truthfulness of expressions. HISTORICAL AND POLEMICAL COMMENTS A. Questions and Distinction between Semantics and Pragmatics. Stonert (1964) shows the separateness of the domain of semantics with the domain of experiences other then convictions: Logical semantics is especially interested only in one from among above characterized psychical phenomena [i.e., from among judgments, feelings, volitional acts] − namely judgments. (p. 244)

Pelc’s remarks are a certificate of the fact that the content of questions can be situated neither in traditionally understood semantics, nor in traditionally understood pragmatics: The content of a question consists of semantic component, namely logical judgments, and pragmatic components, namely question-attitude of the questioner. (1991, p. 289)

Groenendijk and Stokhof (1994) classify logical erotetic theories into pragmatic and semantic. Into pragmatic group, they include theories of those philosophers who make use of the concept of speech act (Searle, Vanderveken), and of those who attempt to apply traditional semantics to the domain of erotetic but conclude that the sense of questions is too rich and cannot be explicated by semantic concepts. Into pragmatic theories, they include imperative-epistemic approaches of Åquist and Hintikka. They include their own approach into the domain of semantics. Similar

Semantics and Pragmatics

57

approach was proposed by Higginbotham and May (1981) and consists is identifying questions with divisions of possible states of affairs to certain cells − such that at least one of them is a real state of nature. Approaches called “semantic” usually consists in identifying questions with sets of other objects, such as the set of sentences (e.g., eshaustive answers – see Groenendijk and Stokhof 1997), or the set of propositions (see, e.g., Ginzburg and Sag 2000). B. The Concept of Communicative Function. Intuitions concerning communicative functions, similar to what I presented in this chapter, were expressed by Ajdukiewicz ([1956] 1978) and Dąmbska (1967b) The latter writes: The communicative function of speech consists either of signalising [something] through language signs or in rendering expression available. Signs, by signalizing, render available their senses and through sentences − if a information has a sentential character in logical sense − informing render available states of affaires denoted by these sentences. That is what language transfer of cognition consists of but signals do not have to be sentences in logical sense or other expressions playing their role; e.g., commands, requests or questions may also constitute their sense (the word ‘halt!’ or red light in the street). Sending signs, whose contents are orders of questions may be called “informing in the broader sense”; in the case of order − it is informing about the duty of such or such behaviour, in the case of questions, about supposition of questions and the content of datum quaestionis, etc. (p. 65)

The way in I characterize communicative function is also similar to what Ossowska wrote about the concept of expression and Koj − about semantic functions. One of Ossowska’s ([1928] 1983) definitions of ‘expressing thoughts by sentences’ has a form (in Kleszcz’s reconstruction): A sentence Z expresses in the language J the thought M of X if the following conditions hold: (1) Z is uttered (or written) by X; (2) Z is isomorphic with sentences which one usually utters in J if one wants to communicate the thought T to somebody. (2006, p. 114)

Whereas Koj writes: A semantic relation is every relation between a sign and extralinguistic objects which is related to the role of signs in the process of communication between people. Communication between people is a basic pragmatic fact. If expressions are considered by people as referring to some fragments of the extralinguistic reality, then it happens, first of

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all − or even only − in order to be able to communicate by these expressions about these parts of reality with other people. (1971a, p. 9)

C. Semantics of Natural Language. The opinion that semantics for formalized languages is not a sufficient tool in analysis of natural language was expressed, for instance, by Nowaczyk: Models of [natural ethnic languages] are much more complex than models of all formalized languages explored so far. (Nowaczyk and Żołnowski 1974, p. 107)

Compare also Ajdukiewicz’s statement: Problems of language analysis are of interests to both linguists and logicians. One of the most important differences between the linguistic and the logical analysis of language is the fact that linguistic investigations are concerned with natural languages whereas logicians study artificial ones. Those artificial languages constructed by logicians are simple in comparison with very involved and complicated natural languages. The relatively greater simplicity of the languages studied by logicians enables them to give a clearer account of the structure of those languages than is possible in the case of the analysis of complex natural languages. ([1960] 1978, p. 269)

CHAPTER III SENTENCES AND PICTURES OF SITUATIONS 1. Situations − Correlates of Sentences Let me begin the analysis of various communicative functions fulfilled by language expressions with the analysis of the functions of sentences. I should stress that the analyses proposed here are only of an ancillary character and should be interpreted as an introduction to the analysis of semiotic functions of questions. However, I believe that some of the proposals presented here may become a point of departure for a general theory of semiotic functions of all natural language expressions. Let us consider the sentence: (1)

Fryderyk Chopin dedicated Concerto f-minor to Delfina Potocka.

What is the correlate of this sentence? Traditional responses are: a situation (a state of affairs) or a judgment (I leave aside the unintuitive conception of Frege, that there are only two correlates of sentences: the true and the false). So, let us ask what is the difference between sentences and judgments. Since Chopin and Potocka were real objects and, moreover, Chopin really dedicated his concerto to her, then the situation corresponding to (1) may be identified with a certain part of spatio-temporal reality. But we can do so only with true sentences (and sentences concerning particulars and not, for example, mathematical ones). If Potocka were only a product of Chopin’s imagination or if he dedicated his concerto to somebody else (e.g., to Konstancja Gładkowska), then there would be no part of reality corresponding to (1).39 Let me skip the problem of what part of space-time reality can be considered as an act of dedication: if it is the moment of arriving at the appropriate decision by the composer or rather the moment of writing an appropriate inscription on the score.

39

The idea arises that there is a kind of gradation: from the situation in which neither Chopin, nor Potocka, nor dedicating exists, to the situation in which, e.g., the real Chopin dedicated not a concerto to the real Potocka, but a ballad.

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For some reasons, it would be convenient to have also correlates of false sentences at our disposal. The fact is that we understand false sentences in a pair with the true ones and at least sometimes we know to what they would correspond, if they were true.40 That is the motivation for the commonly accepted postulate of the “existence”41 of all possible situations, corresponding to all possible sentences: true and false. However, the status of possible situations such understood is − from the point of view of ontology − at least suspicious, especially if we are to assume that they are universal objects existing independently of human minds. Many philosophers, including logicians, speak of sets of possible situations, passing lightly over this fact. In my opinion, one may safely agree that possible situations are objects constructed by combinations and re-combinations of elements abstracted from reality. Whenever I write about situations, I mean non-particular objects abstracted from reality or recombined on the basis of these abstractions and only some of them possess counterparts in reality. In accordance with a certain tradition, I shall call real counterparts of possible situations “facts.” So, every sentence possesses a situation as its correlate but only some of them − namely true ones − possess facts as their correlates. As I already have mentioned, in logical semantics one ascribes expressions to certain set-theoretical objects. We may identify a situation being a correlate of (1) with an ordered n-tuple with the relation of dedicating as the first element and that there are three individuals (Chopin, Concerto f-minor, and Potocka) as the second, third and fourth argument of this relation. By no means does such an operation simplify the problem but, unfortunately, it possesses very little explanatory strength. It does not explain the nature of the situation; i.e., it does not say what types of objects are represented by the elements of n-tuples. 42

40

It is worth noting that if there were no one who dedicated something to somebody, then we would not know what dedicating consists of and we would not understand the sentence ‘Chopin dedicated Concerto f-moll to Delfina Potocka’ (except if we had at our disposal a stipulating definition of the term ‘to dedicate’, in which there appeared only understandable expressions). 41 Here and further, when I am talking about the existence of unreal objects, the term ‘exist’ is used in a maximally broad sense (not as a synonym of ‘being in space and time’). 42 The explanation in which it is assumed that the first argument of the sequence is a relation (interpreted as a set of individuals) and next arguments are individuals − seems to be unsatisfactory.

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Sometimes logicians assume that they have a “ready” set of situations at their disposal and that they do not need to analyze their structure. 43 2. Judgments – Correlates of Sentences By the use of sentences we give an account of what pictures of reality we possess in our minds. Sentences we utter correspond somehow to the content of our mental states; true sentences also possess correlates in reality. These contents of mental states are “private” − they are particular states of people using language expressions. But are pictures of situations only particular, mental objects: only private parts of somebody’s experiences? Has a sentence-type as many correlates as there are particular experiences correlated to tokens of this type? In my opinion, the phenomenon of effective communication and the fact that nature endows us with the ability of schematization and idealization justifies the postulate of the existence of universal correlates of thoughts. Let me recall the course of reasoning: since other people use language just in the same way as I do, and I presume that the content of their thoughts corresponds to the content of my thoughts, then I have a right to “abstract” the content of thoughts from the process of their as well as my own thinking and to treat them − theoretically − as a certain universal object. Such universalized thoughts − in a contrary to universalized reality − are usually called “judgments.” One of the important arguments for the postulate of existence of abstracted content of every sentence is the phenomenon of objective knowledge. What we know in a given discipline about the domain of this discipline may be expressed in the set of such sentences that their senses are not contents of any particular person. I would like to assume that situations abstracted from reality and judgments abstracted from the process of thinking are assigned to all sentences, independent of whether anybody ever uttered them, or no.44

43

This is what Wiśniewski writes on this subject: “Although the concept of situation plays an essential role in these considerations, we shall not define what situations are; assuming only that there are both real and unreal situations. In order to define what situations are, we would be obliged to explain what real situations are. But speaking about the structure of the world falls outside the logician’s jurisdictions. Not prejudicing what situations are, we simply assume the existence of not-empty sets of situations” (1997c, p. 13). 44 It is a little surprising that Ingarden, being a general supporter of a rich ontology, checks himself from postulating the existence of correlates of all sentences. He was convinced that the formal object of a judgment exists only on the condition that there

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But I am aware that a postulate of the existence both possible situations (as universal counterparts of both true and false sentences) and possible judgments (as universal counterparts of all possible sentences) may be inconvenient to those who like to make use of Occam’s razor. 3. Particular and Universal Correlates of Sentences Let us consider the sentence: (2)

Fryderyk Chopin loved Konstancja Gładkowska.

the person O, who utters it (i.e., is pronouncing a token of it), and its correlates. One may illustrate this situation in the scheme presented on the next page. The following “levels” are illustrated: − − − − − −

A is the level of real situations: this level exists in our example, since we know (on the basis of historical sources) that Chopin really loved Gładkowska. B is the level of universal situations, abstracted from real ones. We have to postulate such a level if we want to have correlates of all sentences, false sentences including. C is the level of signs-tokens (utterances). D is the level of signs-types, abstracted 45 from particular utterances. E is the level of particular experiences. F is the level of objects abstracted from particular experiences.

Objects “laying” on all levels A-F are various but there is a certain adequacy between them. Three of these objects are particular (a particular part of reality, a particular thought and a particular utterance) and three postulated objects are abstracted from reality (and exposed to idealization). Let us compare the level A with the level B. The correlate of the sentence A is a segment of reality. Every picture of reality is a simplification. Among the elements of this picture, there are counterparts

exists an act of judging. I suppose it should be interpreted as the idea that there are no correlates of judgments which are never experienced. 45 I use the term ‘to abstract’ as a name of all activities described in the chapter I which are needed to obtain a universal or a general object.

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F: Abstracted thought E: Particular thought

Fryderyk Chopin loved Konstancja Gładkowska.

D: Sentencetoken

Fryderyk Chopin loved Konstancja Gładkowska.

C: Sentencetoken

B: Abstracted situation

A: Fact

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of Chopin, of Gładkowska and of the relation of love − but there are no counterparts of the strength of this love, of the time in which the feeling lasted etc. Thus, only some elements of reality possess their counterparts in universal(ized) situations.46 Let us now compare the level B to the level F. The level B is a product of abstraction from reality, the level F is a product of abstraction from thoughts. There may arise a valid doubt, whether these two kinds of objects should really be distinguished one from another, especially if one assumes that both these kinds of objects possess their genesis in operations of human’s mind. The concept of universally understood states of affairs is hardly distinguishable from the concept of universal judgment. In the next few sections, I shall try to show how to draw a sharper distinction between these two concepts. 4. Judgements and Convictions Let me repeat that convictions are certain attitudes to pictures of situations. Consider, once again, the state of affairs that47 Chopin loved Gładkowska and a person who possesses a mental picture of this state of affairs:

Fryderyk Chopin loved Konstancja Gładkowska.

46

I is essential, because realizing incompleteness of the picture of a situation is a necessary condition of the experiencing an inquiry. 47 There is a certain difficulty in formulating in English what I would like to formulate here. It would sound better: the state of affairs consisting of (or identical with) the fact that Chopin loved Gładkowska − but I cannot use the word ‘fact’, because I do not want to take for granted that this state of affair is just the fact, i.e., that it is a real state of affairs. Thus I just use this awkward form: the state of affairs that Chopin loved Gładowska.

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65

A conviction expressed in a sentence (1) (uttered seriously) − may be described as conceding (asserting) that a picture of a given situation corresponds to reality. Since conviction is not only a picture of a situation but also an attitude towards it, then nothing stands in the way to abstract − from the particular conviction (5) − not only a picture of a situation but also an attitude of conceding (asserting).

assertion

ABSTRACTION

assertion

In next parts of the book, I shall use the term ‘judgment’ with reference to the universal picture of situation taken together with assertion (or rather with any convictional attitude). A judgment thus understood is a communicative correlate of a sentence. According to a certain tradition, I shall call the function connecting sentences with judgments “the function of stating.” Only after such an explication of the concept of judgment one may notice a sharp distinction between the concept of judgment and the concept of situation. A situation − as an universale possessing reality as its basis − cannot include any assertion. The character of judgments is always aspectual and assertive. Let us accept the following definitions.

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The sentence (2) pictures the state of affairs that Chopin loved Gładkowska. Generally: a sentence ‘p’ pictures that p. The sentence (2) states the judgment that Chopin loved Gładkowska, iff the sentence (2) states that the situation that Chopin loved Gładkowska occurs. Generally: a sentence S states a judgment that p ↔ a sentence S states that the situation that ‘p’ occurs. The sentence (2) states the judgment that Chopin loved Gładkowska, iff the sentence (2) is suitable to express the conviction that Chopin loved Gładkowska. Generally: a sentence S states the judgment that p ↔ S is suitable to express a conviction that p. 5. Picturing versus Stating Let us consider the sentence: (3)

Justyna Chopin was convinced that Fryderyk Chopin loved Konstancja Gładkowska.

Notice that (3) pictures a certain mental situation: it concerns a binary relation between Justyna Chopin and her conviction, i.e., it says something about her attitude to a picture of some situation. Now let me compare (3) with: (4)

I am convinced Gładkowska.

that

Fryderyk

Chopin

loved

Konstancja

On the surface, it seems that I may use (4) in the same circumstances as (2) and vice versa, since the sentence (2), uttered seriously, expresses a conviction of the user that Chopin loved Gładkowska. In fact, when we express our convictional attitudes − instead of saying explicitly ‘I think that’, ‘I am sure that’, ‘It seems to me that’, or ‘I doubt that’, it is enough to pronounce a given sentence which appears after ‘that’ − with the appropriate intonation. However, the sentence (4) does not communicate the same judgment as the sentence (2). We may say that the sentence (4) pictures what is stated by the sentence (2). A sentence of the type ‘x is convinced that p’ − e.g., the sentence (3) − renders an account of a certain x’s attitude to a picture of situation pictured by p. So, it pictures a mental situation. At the same time the sentence (3) is suitable to express a conviction that Justyna Chopin was convinced that Chopin loved Gładkowska.

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Justyna Chopin was convinced that Fryderyk Chopin loved Konstancja Gładkowska.

It is similar with the sentence of the form ‘I am convinced that p’. It pictures the fact that I am convinced that p − and it is suitable to express the conviction that I am convinced that p.

I am convinced that Fryderyk Chopin loved Konstancja Gładkowska.

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A sentence with a pronoun ‘I’ is only a special kind of sentence, picturing a mental situation. We utter such sentences (as ‘I am convinced that p’) usually when we keep ourselves at a distance and we are saying about our mental attitude “from outside.” Resuming, let us compare the sentences: ‘Potocka is convinced that Chopin loved Gładkowska’ with the sentence ‘I am convinced that Chopin loved Gładkowska’. In the first example, the communicate concerns the relation between Potocka and a judgment (that Chopin loved Gładkowska) and states that it is a relation of conviction. In the second example, the communicate also concerns the relation between a certain person and a certain judgment; the only specific of it is that this person is identical with the user. 6. Pictures and Fictions Not only false sentences have no real correlates − if we agree that only spatio-temporal objects are real. It seems that also sentences about fiction (e.g., about literary figures) or about idealizations (e.g., about squares) may be true or false. Let us analyze the sentence: (5)

Janko muzykant48 was a wasted talent.

There was no Janko muzykant in reality − but he is an element of a fiction, of a purely intentional world created by the author of a story about Janko muzykant. When we say that Janko muzykant was a wasted talent, knowing that we refer to this purely intentional world, then we may assume that relations between sentences-about-fiction and the fictional world are similar to relations between sentences-about-reality and the real world: we may picture both real and fictional world in our minds. We are able to refer to fictional worlds because they were, as products of the creator’s acts, recorded in words and communicated verbally. Of course, such a fictional world differs from the real world in many respects. One of the main differences lies in the fact that the fictional world is incomplete. Fictional worlds possess only those elements which are projected by the author of the fiction. The sentence (5) is verifiable in the fiction of Sienkiewicz’s “Janko muzykant,” as well as the sentence:

48 Janko muzykant − literally: Johnny the musician − is a hero of one of Henryk Sienkiewicz’s famous novelettes.

Sentences and Pictures of Situations

(6)

69

He was always meagre and sun-burnt, with a swollen abdomen, but with sunken cheeks; his mop was hempen, almost white and it sweeps down his clear, goggle eyes. But the sentence:

(7)

Janko muzykant liked to listen to bandsmen playing for people dancing kujawiak49 in the village tavern.

is not verifiable in this fiction, since the text of the novelette Janko muzykant says nothing (neither explicitly, nor implicitly) about the situation pictured in the sentence (7).50 In this way we may justifiably apply the concept of truthfulness to sentences about fictions and idealizations. 7. Picturing Elements of Situation I assume that stating, as a communicative function of sentences, consists in communicating the convictional attitudes of their users. In this section, I shall concentrate on the problem of the specific functions of parts of sentences, in particular of names and predicates and other functors. Let me reiterate that the term ‘picture of a situation’ should not be understood literally. In the picture of situation corresponding to the sentence: (8)

Fryderyk Chopin accompanied Konstancja Gładkowska.

easily identified elements appear: the pictures of Chopin, of Gładkowska, and of the activity accompanying. But sometimes it is difficult to indicate what elements constitute in fact the considered situation. Let an example be the sentence: (9)

Fryderyk Chopin was blonde.

It seems to me that the picture of situation corresponding to this sentence consists simply of a blonde Chopin − and not of Chopin, blondeness and being. It is much more difficult to indicate the elements of the picture of situation corresponding to the sentence: (10)

49

Delfina Potocka was cunning.

Kujawiak is a folk dance of the Polish province of Kujawy. In Sienkiewicz’s story we are only told that Janko listened to people dancing oberek, another Polish folk dance, in the tavern.

50

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When we try to “visualize” this situation, we see only Potocka or at least Potocka with a suspicious “flash” in her eye. But there is no visualized “cunningness” anywhere around. On the other hand, although we do not picture ourselves Potocka’s cunningness, we think of it as of an element of a situation corresponding to the sentence (10). I suppose everybody would agree with the picture of the situation corresponding to the sentence: (11)

Delfina Potocka was simple-hearted.

differs from the picture of the situation corresponding to (10). It would be convenient to assume that there is a certain analogy between the structure of a situation and the structure of a sentence. Since sentences picture situations, and situations possess parts, it is enough to agree that parts of sentences represent parts of these situations: parts of sentences correspond to parts of situations and the senses of parts of sentences are parts of the sense of the whole sentences. Let us follow this direction of thinking. At the beginning, consider the easiest example: the case of individual names. What is the connection between the sense of the name ‘Fryderyk Chopin’ and the sense of the sentence (2)? According to the commonly accepted tradition, this name fulfills a referential function, i.e., it refers to a certain object. The problem arises when we want to define what object is indicated by the name ‘Fryderyk Chopin’. Assume that the person P1 utters a token of (9) to the person P2 . We say that by the use of the name ‘Fryderyk Chopin’ the person P1 brings a certain object to the person P2 ’s notice, so the person P1 indicates it. Let us consider the following diagram:

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Sentences and Pictures of Situations

Abstracts from thoughts

Particular thoughts Chopin loved Gładkowska.

Abstracts from reality

Reality

Which of the objects, showed schematically in the diagram, was indicated by the name ‘Fryderyk Chopin’: the particular object of the thought of O1 , the particular object of the thought of O2 , the universal representation of thought, the real Fryderyk Chopin or an abstract representation of Fryderyk Chopin? Since Chopin was a real person, an answer imposes itself: the real Chopin (equally spontaneously we are inclined to say that a true sentence refers to a fact). Such a resolution is tempting because it easily explains consensus between interlocutors: the consensus is possible since the person O2 knows to which part of the reality O1 wants to refer. But there are some facts which argue against this solution − or at least against the thesis that names refer only to their real correlates. Let us notice that names such as ‘square’, ‘Tristan’, ‘dark-haired Fryderyk Chopin’ cannot indicate anything real − since in reality, there are (there

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were and there will be) no Tristan, no (ideal) squares, no dark-haired Chopin.51 Thus, if such names are to refer to anything − they have to refer either only to “private” images or to objects abstracted from images.

I.

O1 ’s thought of Chopin.

II.

O1 ’s utterance of the name ‘Chopin’.

III. O2 ’s thought of Chopin.

51

In opposition to what some Chopin’s portraits suggest, he was a blue-eyed blonde (as we know on the basis of historical testimonies).

Sentences and Pictures of Situations

I.

O1 ’s thought of a square.

II.

O1 ’s utterance of the name ‘square’.

73

III. O2 ’s thought of a square.

It seems that the easiest solution is to assume that the function of indicating which is fulfilled by names consists of invoking in receivers the thought similar to the thought of senders. The difference between two thoughts lies not only in the fact that they are thoughts of different people. These thoughts are similar with respect to content, but of course they have to differ in details. Mental presentations of Chopin may be various; also squares are variously presented by people. But we may say that the person P2 understands what the person P1 has in mind, even if P2 knows only more or less what does P1 imagine when P1 utters the name ‘Chopin’. After appropriate ontological reductions we may say that contents of P1 ’s and P2 ’s thoughts fall under the same universal object. The name ‘Fryderyk Chopin’ was the simplest example, since it is an individual and singular name, assigned to its correlate in a purely conventional way, without the “mediation” of connotation.52 By the use of an individual name we may refer to any object possessing such a name, even to those objects which are absent in our environment simply because our interlocutor knows the convention we use. 52 One should not confuse the conventionality of correlation between a name and a correlate with conventionality of ascribing a certain connotation to a certain name. Of course it happens (especially in science) that connotations are ascribed to names conventionally (scil. by arbitrary definitions). In such a situation the relation between such names and their connotations is arbitrary but the relation between these names and their designates is not conventional.

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A function similar to the one of individual names (like ‘Fryderyk Chopin’) may also be fulfilled by other names, such as ‘he’, some composer’, ‘Mikołaj Chopin’s son’, etc. These names also evoke in our interlocutors adequate images (thoughts). It is however easy to notice that such names picture fragments of reality on the basis of other rules. In order to bring a real object in our environment to somebody’s attention, we may, e.g., indicate it by the use of a gesture, a motion of hand, etc.53 Among language expressions, the role of such gestures is played by occasional (or indexical) expressions, such as ‘I’, ‘here’, etc., especially for the reason that their reference may be established only if their correlates are within eyeshot. Pronouns fulfill a referential function only under the condition that they are enriched by a kind of ostention.54 Also general names are useful tools which enable us to picture some fragments of situations. When we say: (12)

Can you hear? This pianist has been practising the same study all day!

then by the name ‘[this] pianist’ we indicate one of objects possessing connotational properties correlated to this name.55 By some idealizing assumptions − we may say that the richer connotation the name possesses, the more precisely it indicates. The name ‘[an] outstanding pianist’ indicates more precisely than ‘[a] pianist’, and ‘[a] pianist’ more precisely than ‘[a] musician’. Assume that the same object may be indicated by various names with various levels of precision. Individual name usually indicates more precisely than a general name. I would like to argue for the thesis that also other parts of sentences − e.g., predicates − picture elements of 53

I skip various difficulties with the identification of the indicated object − e.g., that our interlocutor may interpret it as a name of a part or a property of the object we have in mind. I discussed the method of avoiding such difficulties in Brożek (2006a, especially in Ch. XV). 54 Notice that in such a situation an occasional (indexical) expression and an ostensive gesture complement each other: an occasional expression without any gesture indicates nothing (but does not mean that it is not understandable), the addition of an occasionalism (indexical expression) to a certain gesture makes it much more precise. One should also add here that the sense of pronouns is often determined by the context: we use pronouns instead of the individual name uttered in previous sentences. 55 From this point of view a connoting name fulfills a function similar to the function of pronouns. If by the use of a connoting name we indicate one of its designates, then what is designated by this name depends on the context. It may be an object previously indicated by the individual name (for instance: ‘Rafał played Etiuda rewolucyjna correctly. The boy is really talented’) or the object present in environment (for instance: ‘Look at that boy − he has been practicing all day’).

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75

situations and picture them with differentiated precision. The predicate ‘[x] loved [y]’ refers to the relation of love. If we replace it in (2) with the predicate ‘[x] loved madly [y]’ − then we describe this relation more precisely. And if we replace the predicate ‘[x] loved [y]’ by ‘[x] felt something to [y]’ − then the description is less precise. The same gradation appears in one-argument predicates (e.g., ‘blonde’, ‘light’, ‘possessing some color’). Let me recapitulate the most important differences between the communicative functions of sentences and of names. On the level of pure representation the differences between functions of various natural language expressions seizes up. If we want to defend the thesis that natural language expressions fulfill different semantic functions even if they possess the same ontic correlates then the source of that function has to be found somewhere outside the representation. In particular, this difference should be rooted in users: it is a user who uses sentences in one aim, and names − in another. The name ‘that p’ informs us, first of all, about the content of presentation of its user; secondly, it refers to a certain part of reality of fiction. The sentence ‘p’ expresses, first of all, a conviction. Since convictions refer to reality, sentences refer also to it, though indirectly. In such an approach, the difference between the communicative function of names and the communicative function of sentences is easily seen. Names, as well as sentences, possess some ontic and intentional correlates. Ontic correlates are certain real objects; intentional correlates are mental objects. However, notice that the mental attitude to intentional correlates of names is different than in the case of indicative sentences. In the latter case, it is always a kind of assertive attitude. In the case of names, it is an indicative one. In this book, I accept the concept of name, introduced by Stanisław Leśniewski. Only and every such an expression is a name which can occur as a subject or a predicate in a subject-predicate sentence. that means that both ‘Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’ and ‘the most famous inhabitant of Salzburg’ are names, since the first is a subject and the latter – a predicate, for example, in the sentence ‘Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart is the most famous inhabitant of Salzburg’. The category of names is divided into categories of individual and general names. Individual names (e.g., ‘Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’, ‘Salzburg’) can only play the role of subjects in subject-predicate sentences; they possess no connotation. General names (e.g., ‘the most famous inhabitant of Salzburg’, ‘a city’) can play both the role of subject and the role of predicate; they are connoting expressions.

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I also distinguish designating from denoting. A name N designates an object A iff N can be truly predicated about A or A can be indicated by N. A denotation of N is a set of all designates of N. I also assume that only real (spatio-temporal or at least temporal) objects may serve as designates of a name. Thus, names may be classified into: empty (having no designates), singular (having exactly one designate), and universal (having at least two designates). All individual names are singular or empty, i.e., they either designate exactly one individual (e.g., ‘Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’) or nothing (e.g., ‘Papageno’). General names may be either singular, or universal, or empty. The concept of general singular name corresponds to the concept of definite description, whereas the concept of general universal name corresponds to the concept of indefinite description. 8. Pictures and Judgments Elements of pictures of situations possess various ontic status (inherited from their particular counterparts): they may be things, properties, relations, situations, etc. Expressions referring to these elements of situations possess, respectively, various semantic categories. Remember that in the approach proposed here judgments differ from states of affairs i.a. by the fact that judgments contain universalised attitudes to pictures of situations. Now, I would like to pay attention to another element differentiating “objective” states of affairs from judgments. It seems that in judgments − in opposition to states of affairs − some elements can be emphasized. Moreover, it seems that since this emphasis may be situated in any part of a sentence, then also any part of the picture of a situation may be distinguished. Let us take the sentence (2) and the sentence: (13)

Fryderyk Chopin was a composer.

When we interpret (13), an idea suggests itself to accept that Chopin is the indicated objects to which being-a-composer is attributed. But with the help of a little − so to say − ontological imagination we may say also that in (13) being-a-composer is indicated and that we attribute to this property that it is exemplified by Chopin. In an even more sophisticated approach, one could say also that (13) concerns two objects: Chopin and being-a-composer and we attribute to them that the first exemplifies the latter.

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In the case of the sentence (2), the first imposing interpretation is that it concerns two individuals (Chopin and Gładkowska) between which − in appropriate direction − there holds the relation of love. But we may also assume that only Chopin is an indicated object and that in (2) we attribute to him a property of being-in-love-with-Gładkowska (lovingGładkowska). Furthermore, we may also say that Gładkowska is indicated and that we attribute to her the property of being-loved-byChopin. Finally, one could even say that love is an object of attribution and that we attribute to it its two arguments: Chopin and Gładkowska. It is not a surprise that if we want to reconstruct natural language expressions in the language of first-order logic, we do not take into consideration the latter possibility. But we cannot preclude this interpretation in advance, since there are questions such as: (14)

What did Fryderyk Chopin feel to Konstancja Gładkowska?

or: (15)

What was the relation between Chopin and Gładkowska? HISTORICAL AND POLEMICAL COMMENTS

A. Terminological Confusion. It would be difficult to present here − even schematically − the history of the concepts of judgment and of state of affairs. So let me just mention, firstly, that difficulties with the definition of relation between sentence and state of affairs are somehow reflected in the difficulties in finding an appropriate name for this relation. It is obvious that logicians more or less consciously aim to choose terms “adequate” to concepts they use (however they are aware of the conventional character of that relation). For instance, Chisholm (1966, p. 138) says that a sentences expresses a state of affairs; Borkowski (1995, p. 119) − that the state of affairs is described [Polish: opisany] by sentences. In Ajdukiewicz, we find an expression “a sentence states a state of affairs”; supporters of non-Fregean logic − say that sentences denote situations. In Jadacki (2002, §65) we read that “the sentence ‘p’ states the same what the name ‘that p’ denotes,” but in his definition of truth we have: “If the sentence Z says [Polish: głosi] that p, then it is a truth that p.” Barwise and Perry (1984, p. 67) distinguish describing situations (by sentences) and referring to them (by names). One may find a comprehensive review of various conceptions of judgments and states of affairs in Biłat (2004).

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B. Presentations as the Basis of Judgments. An idea that every conviction is based on presentation (in my terminology: on a picture of a situation) was commonly accepted in Brentanian tradition. Let me quote this idea as formulated by Husserl: No one doubts that for every existing judgment there exists a presentation having a common matter with it, i.e., presenting exactly the same what this judgment asserts. for instance, the judgment that the mass of Earth equals 1/325000 of the mass of the Sun corresponds to the very presentation, an act performed by somebody who only hears such an expression, understands it but cannot find any motives to decide it in an act of judging. ([1901] 1970, p. 560)

C. Representation of Situations as N-Tuples. Intuitions connected to the concept of state of affairs are frequently expressed by logicians by representing states of affairs as n-tuples. It is so in the case of Biłat: Intuitively, the state of affairs described by the simple one-subject sentence, as ‘The earth is round’ is determined by the object being a correlate of the subject (the Earth) and by the property attributed to this subject (being-round). The simplest formal representation of such a state of affairs is an ordered pair as . [. . .] “State of affairs” described by a simple n-subject expression is represented by an ordered pair (double) of the type “> where R n is a relation attributed to objects x 1 , x 2 , . . . , x n . (2004, pp. 205f )

E. Correlation of Uttering Sentences and Expressing Convictions. Searle emphasizes a parallelism between sentence-acts and illocutionary acts: The expression of a proposition is a propositional act, not an illocutionary act. And as we have seen, propositional acts cannot occur alone. One cannot just express a proposition while doing nothing else and have thereby performed a complete speech act. One grammatical correlate of this point is that clauses beginning with ‘that . . . ’, which are a characteristic form for explicitly isolating propositions, are not complete sentences. When a proposition is expressed it is always expressed in the performance of an illocutionary act. (1969, p. 29)

CHAPTER IV SEMANTICO-CATEGORIAL ANALYSIS 1. Ajdukiewicz’s Heritage 1.1. The Main Idea In the introduction, I mentioned Marciszewski’s view: according to him, the theory of questions sketched by Ajdukiewicz should be combined with Ajdukiewicz’s idea of categorial grammar. I am strongly convinced that some tools gathered from categorial grammar may be useful in precise description of questions. I would like to stress that I use the apparatus of categorial grammar only to explicate the structure of natural language questions. I do not treat this apparatus as a certain formal language to which one translates natural language expressions and which should be equipped with artificial semantics (e.g., set-theoretical semantics). I am also aware that some my proposals of how to enrich Ajdukiewicz’s apparatus are not fully compatible with his own intentions. Let me briefly recap how Ajdukiewicz’s categorial grammar is used in the description of natural language expressions.56 In the following section, I propose some modifications of this analytical tool. 1.2. Names, Sentences, and Functors Categorial grammar is a description of complex expressions with respect to semantic categories of their parts. The basic principle of semantico-categorial analysis is the principle of functority: in every correctly composed (coherent) expression one may distinguish exactly one expression being a functor and at least one expression being its argument. A functor together with its arguments forms a correctly composed expression.

56

I suppose, this apparatus, very well known in Poland, may be less familiar for readers from other countries.

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The basic concept of categorial grammar is the concept of semantic category. There are two basic semantic categories: sentences and names. Sentences are all and only such expressions that are suitable to express convictions (or – that ascertain states of affairs). Names are all and only such expressions that can be used as a subject or as a predicate in subject-predicate sentences. For instance, in the sentences: (1) (2)

Chopin loved Gładkowska. Chopin’s piano works are commonly known.

we have the following names: ‘Chopin’ and ‘Gładkowska’, and ‘Chopin’s piano works’, and ‘commonly known’ respectively. A disputable question is, whether basic categories should be divided into subcategories. There are some arguments for the division of basic categories − I shall mention some of them in next section. In Chapter VII, I show how to use these enrichments in the analysis of questions. A set of functors is identical with a set of secondary categories. In the sentence (1) we have the functor ‘loved’ and its two arguments: ‘Chopin’ and ‘Gładkowska’. As we can see, the functor ‘loved’ creates a sentence by the addition of two names. In the name: ‘Chopin and Gładkowska’ there is a functor ‘and’, creating a name by addition of two names to it. Every functor can be described by indicating: (i) what kind of expression is created by it; (ii) how many arguments the functor possesses; (iii) what are categories of its arguments. Let us look at few examples. There are following typical functors: (a) (b)

(c) (d) (e)

sentence-creating of name argument(s) − i.e., predicates – e.g., ‘loved’ in the sentence (1); sentence-creating of sentence argument(s) − i.e., connectives – e.g., ‘and’ in the sentence ‘Chopin loved Gładkowska and Gładkowska loved Chopin’; name-creating of name argument(s) − i.e., qualificators – e.g., ‘on’ in the name ‘Salzburg on Salzach’; name-creating of sentence argument(s) − i.e., reificators – e.g., ‘that’ in the name ‘that Chopin loved Gładkowska’; functor-creating functors of functor arguments − i.e., superfunctors − e.g., ‘very much’ in the sentence ‘Chopin loved Gładkowska very much’. Thus, in the sentence:

(3)

Gładkowska highly estimated her beloved.

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there are three different functors: a name-creating functor of one name argument (‘her’), a sentence-creating functor of two name arguments (‘highly estimated’), (c) a functor-creating functor of one functor argument (‘highly’). Ajdukiewicz introduced special indexes for different semantic categories: names − ‘n’, and sentences − ‘s’. Indexes for functors look like these:57 (a) (b) (c) (d) (e)

sentence-creating functors of name arguments: s/n; s/nn, s/nnn, etc.; sentence-creating functors of sentence arguments: s/s, s/ss, s/sss, etc.; name-creating functors on name arguments: n/n, n/nn, n/nnn, etc.; name-creating functors of sentence arguments: n/s, n/ss, etc.; functor-creating functors of functor-arguments: s/s//s/s, s/ss//s/s, etc. 58 1.3. The Grammatical (or Syntactical) Correctness

Semantico-categorial analysis of sentences also serves as a tool for demonstrating the grammatical correctness of a given expression. The procedure used in this aim is called a procedure of calculating the exponent (or the final index) of the whole expression. Let me illustrate this procedure by a simple example. In order to calculate the exponent of the phrase: (4)

Chopin loved beautiful Gładkowska.

57

This is Ajdukiewicz’s algorithm of how to create a symbol of semantic category of a functor: “To single words belonging not to a basic category but to functor categories we shall assign a fractional index, formed of a numerator and denominator. In the numerator will be the index of the semantic category to which the whole expression composed of the functional sign plus its argument belong, while in the denominator appear, one after the other, the indexes of semantic categories of arguments, which together with the functor combine into a significant whole” ([1936] 1978, p. 120). 58 Originally, in Ajdukiewicz’s notation, indexes of functors have the shape of normal, vertical fractions; for instance indexes of sentence-creating functors of name arguments have the shape: n n

,

n nn

,

n nnn

Because of typographic reasons, I change this notation into horizontal. Various optional notations of categorial indexes are reported in Marciszewski (1988a).

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one lists every indexes of semantic categories (below in short: semantic indexes) of parts of this expression, starting from the index of the main functor and continuing by listing indexes of its arguments. If any functor or argument is a composed expression − we replace its index by the indexes of its components (starting from the main functor again). The main functor of (4) is the predicate ‘loved’ indexed by ‘s/nn’, since it creates a sentence by the addition of two names. The first argument of this functor (the name ‘Chopin’) is a simple expression with the index ‘n’. But the second argument of the main functor is a composed expression and consists of the one-argument qualificator ‘beautiful’ (indexed by ‘n/n’) and the name ‘Gładkowska’ (indexed by ‘n’). So, a proper sequence of semantic indexes of the phrase (4) looks as follows: s/nn, n, n/n, n Having such a sequence at our disposal, we may start the procedure of “cancelling” (calculating the exponent). We analyze the sequence and whenever we see an index of a functor followed by indexes identical to indexes in the denominator of that functor − we may cancel the denominator with the index(es) of argument(s). In the case of the phrase (4) − in the first step we may cancel the denominator of the functor ‘n/n’ (on the third position in the sequence) with the index of its argument (on the fourth position): s/nn, n, n/n, n After the cancellation, we obtain the following, reduced sequence (the first derivative of the proper sequence): s/nn, n, n In the second step, we notice that indexes on positions (2) and (3) in that reduced sequence are identical with indexes in denominator of the functor on the position (1). Thus, we may repeat the procedure of cancellation: s/nn, n, n In the end, we obtain the index: s which is the second derivative and at the same time the exponent of the analyzed expressions, since it cannot be cancelled any more.

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Expressions with simple exponents (‘s’ or ‘n’) are grammatically correct. If the exponent of a given expression is not simple, the expression is grammatically incorrect (or incoherent). 1.4. Syntactic Positions Semantic categories of expressions do not determine syntactic positions of these expressions. In the sentence (1) both ‘Chopin’ and ‘Gładkowska’ are names, but their syntactic role is different. In order to reflect the syntactic structure of sentences and the role of a part of an expression in the whole, Ajdukiewicz introduced marks of syntactic positions (below in short: syntactic marks). Let us consider the phrase (1) again. Ajdukiewicz symbolizes the position of a given expression in itself by the mark ‘(1)’. The main functor of a given expression gets the mark ‘(1,0)’; the first argument of the main functor (‘Chopin’) – ‘(1,1)’, the second one (‘Gładkowska’) – ‘(1,2)’, etc. The syntactic positions of some expressions being part of the sentence “Gładkowska loved Chopin” are different. The name ‘Gładkowska’ gets the syntactic mark ‘(1,1)’, the main functor (predicate) ‘loved’ gets the syntactic mark ‘(1,0)’, and the name ‘Chopin’ – ‘(1,2)’. 59

2. Improvements 2.1. Categories and Syntactic Positions Let me propose a certain obvious notational improvement. Notice that sentence (1) is analyzed, in the framework of semanticocategorial analysis as: {n, s/nn, n} and in the framework of syntactic analysis as: {(1,1), (1,0), (1,2)}

59

This is Ajdukiewicz’s original formulation: “1. To the syntactical positions which an expression takes in itself, i.e., to the position of the constituent of zero order, we assign the symbol ‘(1)’. 2. If to the syntactical position of the constituent G of arbitrary order of an expression A in A the symbol ‘(K )’ is assigned, then the syntactical position of the main operator of that constituent in A will be designates with the symbol ‘(K, 0)’, while the syntactical positions of the first, . . . n th argument of that operator are designates with symbols ‘(K, 1)’, ‘(K, 2)’, . . . , ‘(K, n)’” ([1960] 1978, p. 274).

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I propose to gather both semantic indexes and syntactic marks in one symbol. In the case of (1) such a syntactico-semantic description would look like this: {n (1,1), s/nn (1,0) , n (1,2)} 2.2. Names and Predicates The sentence (1) is not controversial with respect to semantic categories of its parts: two names being arguments of the main functor are both singular and individual. But controversies arise in such examples like: (5) (6)

Fryderyk Chopin was a composer. Fryderyk Chopin was slim.

In semantico-categorial description, one usually analyzes such sentences as expressions consisting of one two-argument predicate (‘was’) and two name arguments. (This is an idea of Leśniewski, accepted by Ajdukiewicz.) However, in predicate calculus one analyzes them as expressions composed of an individual name and a one-argument predicate. Let me propose two solutions of how to unify these two types of description. Both of them possess some advantages and I am not able to decide which of them is more theoretically satisfying. The first solution follows intuitions which underlie predicate calculus and consists in assumption that in sentences like (5) and (6) there appear one-argument predicates. The view in which in every context the copula ‘is’ is considered as two-predicate calculus is justified by the fact that e.g., expressions such as ‘composer’ are names and can play the role of subjects in sentences, as here:60 (7)

[A] composer is talented.

But let us remember that such an expression as ‘[a] composer’ occurring in (7) may be interpreted as a name only in the basis of two assumptions: it is either a variable with definite scope (and is implicitly preceded by a quantifier) or it replaces an individual name. In (5) − the expression ‘[a] composer’ is not a name, but only a part of one-argument predicate, so we have: (8)

60

Chopin was-a-composer. {n (1,1), s/n (1,0)}

Such resolution seems to be suitable more in language in which there are in substance no articles − e.g., in Latin and Polish.

Semantico-Categorial Analysis

(9)

85

Chopin was-slim. {n (1,1), s/n (1,0)}

The second solution consists of treating the copula ‘is’ consequently as a two-argument predicate (in accordance to intuitions of “early” Stanisław Leśniewski). In (5) we attribute being-a-composer to Chopin, what can be interpreted as the relation of belonging hold between an individual (scil. Chopin) and a set (scil. a set of composers), or as the relation of exemplifying hold between an individual (scil. Chopin) and an incomplete object (scil. composer-as-such). Now, in (6), one attributes slimness to Chopin, what can be interpreted as a relation between an individual (Chopin) and a property (slimness). It seems that only in such a way the interpretation of the copula ‘is’ as a two-argument predicate may be supported. An additional support may be found in the theory of questions. Notice that (5) and (6) are answers to different questions, respectively: (10) (11)

Who was Fryderyk Chopin? What was Fryderyk Chopin like? 2.3. Variables, Sentential Functions, and Quantifiers

Traditionally, quantifiers are considered as expressions which possess sentential functions as their arguments and which transform these functions into sentences, i.e., they transform functions without logical value into sentences being true or false. In fact, expressions such as: (12)

x is a prime number.

and: (13)

x is an outstanding composer.

are neither true, nor false. Adding a quantifier changes the situation. Expressions: (14)

∃x (x is a prime number).

and (15)

∀x (x is an outstanding composer).

possess logical values: (14) is true, and (15) − false. The founder of semantico-categorial analysis was convinced that quantifiers are not sensu stricto functors, since they do not possess some important properties of functions. In contrary to Ajdukiewicz, I am inclined to believe that natural language quantifiers should be interpreted

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as functors, but not as sentence-creating functors (as the notation used in the language of predicate calculus suggests). My intuition may be expressed as follows. If the expression ‘[a] composer’ appears in the place of a name, it is just a variable of definite scope. Quantifiers ‘certain’ (‘some’) or ‘every’ transform this variable into a name. But not every quantifier is a name-creating functor. There are also miscellaneous quantifiers which are functor-creating functors (superfunctors). For instance, the expression ‘sometime’ (‘in some time’) is composed of a quantifier and a time-variable; it is similarly with expressions such as ‘always’ (‘every time’), ‘sometime (‘at some time’), ‘somewhere’ (‘in some place’), ‘everywhere’ (‘in every place’), etc. It seems that in order to naturally include quantifiers into semanticocategorial description we have to introduce categories of variables assuming that we may “variabilize” expressions of any category. Thus, let us introduce new subcategories: name variable (indexed by n x), sentence variable (s x) and various functor variables: (s/ xn, n/ xnn, s/nn// xs/nn, etc.). One obtains the index of a variable of a certain category by adding ‘x’ in the upper-right corner of the symbol of basic category or by the addition of ‘x’ after the line of the fraction in the case of functor symbols. Let us analyze some simple examples. Agree that in the sentence: (16)

Every composer composed a certain melody.

expressions ‘every composer’ and ‘a certain melody’ are names (they can be successfully replaced by individual names). Expressions ‘composer’ and ‘melody’ function in (16) as variables of limited scope − so they obtain indexes ‘n x’. Quantifiers ‘every’ and ‘a certain’ acquire indexes ‘n/n x’: they are name-creating functions of name arguments. Thus, the analysis of the whole sentences (16) looks like this: (17)

Every composer composed a certain melody. {n/n x(1,1,0), n x(1,1,1), s/nn (1,0), n/n x(1,2,0), n x(1,2,1)}

Let the second example concern adverbial quantifier. Consider the sentence: (18)

Fryderyk Chopin always missed Poland.

The whole expression ‘always’ receives the index ‘s/nn//s/nn’ − as a time-adverb (super-functor of functor argument). But this expression is implicitly composed of some quantifier and time-variable. After an appropriate factorization we have: (19)

Fryderyk Chopin at every moment missed Poland.

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We assign the symbol ‘s/nn// xs/nn’ to the time-variable. The quantifier ‘every’ receives quite a complicated index: ‘s/nn//s/nn///s/nn// xs/nn’. The “denominator” of this fraction-symbol is identical with the index of the moment-variable, i.e., it is the index of argument of time-quantifier. “Nominator” of our fraction-symbol is identical to the index of category of expression which arises by joining of the quantifier and the variable, so it is the index of the expression ‘every time’ (‘always’) as a whole. The analysis of the whole sentence looks as follows: (20)

Chopin at every moment missed Poland. {n (1,1), s/nn//s/nn///s/nn// xs/nn (1,0,0), s/nn//xs/nn (1,0,1), s/nn (1,0), n(1,2)}

Let me add that also some numerals play a role of name-creating quantifiers. For example, the expression ‘four’ occurring in the sentence: (21)

Four composers were members of the group “Młoda Polska.”

possesses the same category as the expression ‘all’ in the expression ‘all composers’, i.e., it obtains the index ‘n/n x’. 61 2.4. Sentential Functions There are no free variables in natural language. If a certain general name is not preceded by a quantifier explicitly, then we assume that it is preceded by it implicitly. But if there were free variables in natural languages, we would need not only a category of variables but also a category of sentence function. For instance, the expression: (22)

x loved Konstancja Gładkowska.

would be analyzed as a sentential function composed of a name variable, two-argument predicate and a name. The problem is, what is the categorial index of the predicate ‘loved’: is it sentence-creating functor or rather function-creating functor (i.e., functor creating sentential function)? Generally, both possibilities are acceptable and it is hard to decide which of them is better. If we assume that ‘loved’ in (22) is a sentence-creating functor, we obtain: (23)

61

x loved Konstancja Gładkowska. {n x(1,1), s/nn (1,0), n (1,2)}

But it happens that a numeral is a part of a name.

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If we calculate the exponent of the whole (22) we do not obtain ‘s’. At most, the index may look like this: ‘s(x)’, where ‘(x)’ informs that the whole formula is an open one. The other possibility consists of ascribing to the whole expression (22) the index ‘f ’ (function) and assigning to the expression ‘loved’ in (22) the category of function-creating functor. In this interpretation, we have: (24)

x loved Konstancja Gładkowska. {n x(1,1), f/n xn (1,0), n (1,2)}

which of course may be reduced to the exponent ‘f ’. Let us analyze additional arguments for interpreting quantifiers as functors transforming variables into constants. Notice that in order to transform a function with a free variable into a sentence − one may make two operations: either to replace a variable by a constant or bound it with a quantifier. Substitution transforms a variable into a name. But quantification − as a logician would say − transforms a function into a sentence. Sentential function is not a sentence, since it possesses a “gap” (variable) in at least one argument. Transforming a function into a sentence should consist of filling this gap. The best “filler” of a gap is a constant, e.g., an individual name or a general singular name (such as ‘the best Polish composer’). But the same role can be played by expressions such as ‘a certain composer’. It is a little more difficult to justify the view that also expressions such as ‘some people’ or ‘every man’ are suitable fillers of gaps. But although these expressions are not names in the traditional sense (they do not have designates sensu stricto), they fulfill a referential function: we indicate objects by the use of them. Of course, it is difficult to establish criteria of being an object to which such expressions as ‘some composers’, ‘five composers’, ‘all composers’ refer. The reason is just that such names have no precise sense.62 It is equally difficult to establish, what are situations which sentences like: (25) (26)

Some composers are conductors. Five composers are conductors.

refer to. Someone might think that the sense of these sentences is easy to establish by the use of the concept of truth-conditions. But the same 62

Nowaczyk calls the referential function of names composed of natural language quantifier and a variable − “indefinite reference” [Polish: “referencja nieokreślona”] (see Nowaczyk 1999b, p. 30).

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procedure may be applied to names: the name ‘a certain composer’ is not-empty iff there exists at least one composer. I shall use improvements of Ajdukiewicz’s semantico-categorial analysis proposed in this chapter in structural description of questions, proposed in Chapter VII. But I would like to emphasize that my analysis of questions can be accepted − to some degree − even without the acceptance of the analysis of natural language quantifiers proposed here. I presented it, since such an analysis of expressions with quantifiers seems to be most compatible with semantico-categorial analysis of questions I propose. I just wanted to sketch a maximally complete background for my erotetic considerations. HISTORICAL AND POLEMICAL COMMENTS A. Quantifiers as Name-Creating Functors. When we use the language of predicate calculus we are used to think of quantifier as of something what concerns the whole formula following it (the whole range of a quantifier). Such an impression is strengthened by brackets, indicating the border of that range. This idea was followed by Tałasiewicz (2006, p. 161) in his semantico-categorial analysis of sentences. But quantifiers, in a strict sense, bind only variables, not whole formulae in which these variables occur. That is why I see no reason for treating the whole range of a quantifier as its argument in the semantico-categorial analysis of sentences. B. The First Exposition of Functor-Like Interpretation of Quantifiers. It seems that Hamilton was the ancestor of interpreting quantifiers as name-creating functors. As Kotarbiński certifies (1957, pp. 100-103): The name ‘Hamilton’ is connected to a proposal of enriching syllogistics of categorical sentences by introducing a so called quantification of predication or more strictly − of predicates, that is preceding the predicate with the addition ‘all’ or ‘some’, which is not done in categorical sentences in traditional syllogisms. [. . .] One obtains the following formulae: U: I: A: Y: E:

all S are all P some S are some P all S are some P some S are all P no S are no P

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ω: η: O:

some S are no P no S are some P some S are no P

C. Semantic or Syntactical Categories. I decided to use the term ‘semantic category’ in reference to such categories as sentences, names and functors. However, many logicians use the term ‘syntactic category’ instead. This is a serious conceptual problem which reflects troubles with distinction between syntactic, semantic and pragmatic level of the description of language (which I discussed in Chapter II). Here, let me only quote Ajdukiewicz’s hesitations concerning this problem. In 1936, he wrote: Both the concept and the term ‘semantic category’ were first introduced by Husserl. In his Logische Untersuchungen, Husserl mentions that single words and complex expressions of a language can be divided into classes such that two words or expressions belonging to the same class can be substituted for one another, in a context possessing unified meaning, without that context becoming an incoherent word pattern and losing unified sense. [. . .] We want to define this concept a little more precisely. The word or expression A, taken in sense x, and the word or expression B, take in a sense y, belong to the same semantic category if and only if there is a sentence (or sentential function) S A , in which A occurs with meaning x and which has the property that if S A is transformed into S B upon replacing A by B (with the meaning y), then S B is also a sentence (or sentential function). ([1936] 1978, pp. 118f ) We assume that the semantic category of a single word is defined by its meaning (p. 120)

But in 1960, he wrote: The concept of semantical categories must be clearly distinguished from the concept of syntactical categories. The term ‘semantical category’ was introduced for the first time by Husserl; however, the concept he associated with it would correspond better to the term ‘syntactic category’. For Husserl pointed out that the expressions of a language may be classified according to the role they can play within a sentence. He defined, therefore, his categories from a syntactical point of view. [. . .] Our classification of linguistic expressions will be based not on their syntactical function within a sentence but on the ontological categories of the entities to which linguistic expressions refer or − as we shall also say − to which they denote. In the logic of language the term ‘semantical’ is used in a narrower sense to designate all those concepts which are concerned with the relation between linguistic expressions and the entities referred to. This is why a classification of linguistic expressions

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which reflects ontological categories denoted by them is more appropriately called a classification of semantic categories than one based on syntactic criteria. The concepts of syntactical and semantical categories differ at least with respect to their intention, this does not necessarily imply that they also differ with respect to their extensions. ([1960] 1978, p. 275)

D. Division of Basic Categories. Ajdukiewicz himself suggested that at least the basic category of names should be divided: Leśniewski has only one basic category besides the sentence category: the name category, to which belong singular as well as general names. [. . .] It seems that not all names form a single semantic category in ordinary language. In our view, at least two semantic categories can be distinguished among names in ordinary speech: first, the semantic category to which belong singular names of individuals, and the general names of individuals in so far as these are taken in suppositione personalis; secondly, the semantic category of general names in so far as they occur in suppositione simplici (i.e., as the names of universals). ([1936] 1978, pp. 119-120)

E. Troubles with Defining the Semantic Category of Quantifiers. Ajdukiewicz expressed the opinion that quantifiers cannot be interpreted as functors. He was convinced that the partition ‘∃x | (Px)’, and accepting that ‘∃x’ is a functor of the category s/s is inadmissible, since in such an interpretation it would have to be an extensional functor, so the logical value of ‘∃x(Px)’ would have to be a function of the expression ‘Px’; but the latter possesses no logical value. Ajdukiewicz refused also the analysis ‘∃ | x, (Px)’. But his justifications in both cases are doubtful. In fact, the argument according to which a quantifier (in Ajdukiewicz: “operator”) cannot be an argument, and thus it cannot be a functor, seems also to be missed. The expression ‘it is not true that’ cannot be an argument of any functor, but Ajdukiewicz ranks it among functors. F. Quantifiers in Natural Language. Problems with the interpretation of formal and natural-language quantifiers within the conceptual scheme of categorial grammar is briefly reported by Marciszewski: There is a problem which could be disregarded in the theory of semantic categories but which must be faced in C[ategorial] G[rammar]: the problem of variable-binding operators, especially of quantifiers and their counterparts in natural languages. Neither Leśniewski (1929) nor Tarski (1933) included quantifiers into the hierarchy of categories (similarly in the theory of types no objects correspond to quantifiers). Ajdukiewicz

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(1935) raised the problem of the category of variable-binding operators and clamed for them the status of a special category, differing from that of functors as well as from basic categories; their peculiarity lies in the fact that they bind variables, but quantifiers in natural languages do not bind variables, and hence the main argument against counting them alongside functors becomes pointless. As to logical languages, quantifiers can be treated as predicating something about predicates within their scope (variables being disregarded); namely: a universal quantifier predicates the universal satisfaction of a predicate, and an existential one predicates nonemptiness. Thus, a quantifier takes the category s:(s:n) [s//s/n] provided that the predicate in question belongs to the category s:n [s/n]. This approach, originated by Frege, was followed by Suszko (19581960), Cresswell (1977) and others. In combinatory logic an operator which is the counterpart of the universal quantifier and belongs to the category s:(s:s) [s//s/s] is introduced, provided that a expression formed by means of lambda-operator is of category s:n [s/n]. His conception had been anticipated by Ajdukiewicz’s idea (1935) of defining quantifiers by means of the abstraction operator. When applying this categorization of quantifiers to natural languages one counts along with quantifiers such phrases as ‘everything’, ‘nobody’, ‘every man’, ‘some number’, etc.; the two latter can be regarded, following Montague’s suggestion (1970) as quantifiers in which common nouns are used to restrict the scope. By assigning to common nouns the basic category one concluded that words such as ‘every’, ‘some’, ‘no’, ‘a’, ‘the’, ‘most’, ‘two’, etc. belong o the functor category (s:(s:n)):c [s//s/n///c]. (1988a, p. 14)

In this proposal, expressions such as ‘every man’ or ‘some number’ are not considered as names but as quantifiers of limited scope; the strict analogy between quantifiers in natural language and quantifiers in formal languages is preserved. But, let us consider the following two sentences: (1) (2)

∀x(x > 1) Every man is a mammal.

In my opinion, a strict counterpart of ‘every man’ in (1) is not simply ‘∀x’ but ‘∀x(x)’. The expression ‘every man’ is something more than a quantifier. My intuition is preserved in Marciszewski (1988b, p. 214), who proposes the following analysis: At most one n:(s:n)

Polish woman s:n

is a Nobel prize winner. s:n

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93

Here, the expression ‘at most one Polish woman’ is interpreted as a name and natural language quantifier (‘at most one’) − as a name-creating functor. The only difference is that the natural language variable (‘Polish woman’) is interpreted by Marciszewski as a predicate; I consider such expressions as variables. Nowaczyk proposes an issue that may be interpreted as additional support for my analysis of natural language quantifiers. In natural languages, functional counterparts of quantifiers are quantifying pronouns. Their informational efficiency is lower [then the efficiency of quantifiers] − which can easily be shown by everybody who tries to formulate definitions of such concepts as the concept of the limit of sequence, continuity of function or any other definition requiring the use of at least three different quantifiers − and he wants to does it in natural language without any metaphors and misunderstandings. The question is posed as to what circumstances delimit the range of theses and what is the manner of reforming an appropriate part of the language in order to make if equal to the language of predicate calculus. (1999b, p. 13)

Nowaczyk delimits his analyses to pronouns replacing names − as examples he lists expressions like ‘everyone’, ‘someone’, ‘no one’, and ‘everybody’. He claims, firstly, that quantifying pronouns fulfill syntactically function of names, and secondly, that quantifying pronouns are (somehow) composed: of a quantifier and a variable. Both these facts are indisputable, but if we put them together, it becomes clear that a quantifier being a part of quantifying pronoun is something what creates a name (not a sentence) by adding a variable. So it is a name-creating functor. Here we have a original Nowaczyk’s passage: [Quantificative] pronouns are substitutes for the names of individuals (individual names) in the sense that they occupy positions of names in sentences. Thus, they may be included into the category of individual names [. . .]. Pronouns such as ‘everyone’, ‘somebody’ or ‘nobody’ [. . .] are quantificative pronouns. The fact that they can be classified as individual names distinguishes them from quantifiers which cannot be treated in such a way. From the semantic point of view, pronouns are not names, since they do not denote any individuals. They fulfill a double role: of quantifiers and of variables. (1999b, pp. 14, 17)

Problems arise when quantified expressions should be repeated. Nowaczyk notices that in order to handle these difficulties, natural language makes use of anaphors and ordinal numbers: Maria loves somebody and he loves her.

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If one person is an ancestor of the second one and the second one is the ancestor of the third one, then the first one is the ancestor of the third one. (1999b, p. 21)

Nowaczyk takes advantages of that in the construction of a language which, on the other hand, corresponds to a certain part of natural language, including quantifying pronouns and, on the other hand, is “efficient” equally to the language of predicate calculus. In another text, Nowaczyk analyzes the role of quantifiers in categorial languages. In his conclusions, he states: Our inquires into the possibility of incorporating operators binding variables to categorial languages brought a negative result. In categorial languages, there is and should be no such expressions as operators binding variables if they are not treated as functors, i.e., expressions denoting functions. (1999c, p. 49)

Since I used semantico-categorial analysis only as a tool for making precise some intuitions connected to functions of natural language, I consciously ignore difficulties with the interpretation of mathematical expressions. Moreover, I do not think that the rule of compositionability, often associated with semantico-categorial description, is compulsory in the case of natural language. Thus, I do not feel any obligation to propose set-theoretical semantic of natural language expressions. Nowaczyk’s opinion is different: The principle of compositionability assumes that the theory of interpretation we use is referential semantics. Since functions and their arguments are the only objects of the theory of reference, it has to be a semantic based in set-theory as the only theory in which the concept of function is precisely defined. (1999b, p. 37) Quantifiers, similarly to sentential connectives, define rather the truth conditions of sentences. The semantic context of a sentence − a situation − depends on the sentential function which is the root of these sentences. Quantification says which parts of this situation (which elementary situations) have to be facts, if a sentence is to be true. (p. 167)

G. Articles. In the Latin language, as well as for instance in Polish, in principle, there are no articles. Articles occurring in English fulfill the role of quantifiers which in Latin or Polish are “hidden” (however, usually the supposition of a name is easy to guess). It is significant, that in the English translation of Ajdukiewicz, articles are considered as name-creating functors:

Semantico-Categorial Analysis

The lilac smells very strongly and n/n n s/n s/n//s/n///s/n//s/n s/n//s/n s/ss

95 the rose blooms. n/n n s/n

PART II THEORY

The Structure of the Second Part The second part consists of six chapters and is an essential part of the book. It presents the main results of my research in the domain of erotetics: the analysis of structures and functions of questions and answers. Chapter V is devoted to a description of communicative function of questions. The concept of inquiry, i.e. of a communicative correlate of a question, composed of cognitive, incognitive and volitional elements is analyzed. The differences between communicative functions of questions and functions of other expressions (especially declarative and imperative sentences) are indicated. In Chapter VI, I discuss some problems connected with natural language questions. I concentrate especially on the semiotic defects which appear most often in questions. In the “Comments” at the end of this Chapter I present some methods − proposed within logical theories of questions − of how to remove semiotic defects in questions. Chapter VII contains my proposal for a semantico-categorial description of the structure of natural language questions. I am convinced that the way of presenting the structure of questions proposed there adequately reflects their communicative functions and is firmly based on intuitions accompanying the use of natural language questions. Chapter VIII contains the explication of the concept of the assumptions of questions and of the cognitive context of questions. In this chapter, I also characterize some relations between questions with respect to presuppositions. Chapter IX is devoted to the concept of answer (the communicative concept answer in particular). Various types of answers and relations between them are defined. Chapter X contains some remarks concerning the so-called embedded questions. I argue that the so-called embedded questions are not sensu stricto questions but, fulfilling a referential function, should be interpreted as names. The closing Chapter XI contains an analysis of typical and atypical erotetic situations and the explication of some special kinds of questions and answers.

CHAPTER V THE COMMUNICATIVE FUNCTION OF QUESTIONS 1. Cognitive, Incognitive, and Volitional Elements of the Sense of Questions In order to characterize the communicative function of questions, I shall proceed according to the scheme outlined in Chapter II. Let us consider a class of expressions possessing structural properties of questions and try to distinguish typical experiences that accompany the utterances of these expressions. The self-imposing structural criterion of being-a-question is beingended with a question mark; its counterpart in spoken language is a specific intonation (usually rising).63 Moreover, most questions contains a query, i.a., a special particle such as ‘what’, ‘how’, ‘where’, ‘when’ or their question character is marked by a special (e.g. inverted) word order. 64 If expressions built in such a way fulfill a certain specific communicative function then we should be able to connect a special type of experience to them. I am convinced that such an experience, i.e. communicative sense of questions, possesses three kinds of elements: cognitive, incognitive, and volitional, and thus it is quite rich in comparison with the sense of other expressions. I shall distinguish two main types of communicative correlates of questions.

63

Perhaps there are languages in which we have no questions marks or in which an intonation in questions does not rise in pitch. But I suppose that in every language there are some structural or phonetic features which enable users of this language to identify a given expression as a question. 64 Expressions isomorphic to queries are also parts of sentences which are not questions (even structurally) − they belong to declarative or imperative sentences; e.g.: ‘Tell me, who composed “Dreaming”’ or ‘He told her, who composed “Dreaming”.” I analyze these so-called “embedded questions” in the Chapter VII.

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Consider a situation in which a person A (the sender of question, the questioner) and a person B (the receiver of question, questioned person, respondent) meet in Salzburg and person A says to person B: (1)

Where is Mozart’s house?

Let us analyze in what “mental circumstances” A could pose such a question seriously. In other words: let us establish, what B may find out about the mental states of A on the basis of the fact that B utters the expression (1). It seems that if any person poses the question (1) seriously, then, first of all, he wants to acquire some knowledge, in particular he wants to know where Mozart’s house is located. Furthermore, if person A speaks seriously, then he does not know the location of Mozart’s house, but A indirectly expresses the conviction that this house is situated somewhere. The experience motivating one to pose a question, consisting of the elements mentioned above, may also be described as follows. The person posing a question experiences the will to fill a gap in a picture of a situation intended as adequate. Such a volitional act is based on a certain convictional experience: the picture of situations which is to be filled is intentionally adequate. This convictional experience is at the same time combined with an awareness of the existence of a gap. On the basis of such a “realized ignorance,” an awareness of having a cognitive gap, the will of filling it arises. Thus, we may say that there are three factors of an experience which motivate one to pose a question and are expressed in a question: (a) (b) (c)

cognitive (foundation conviction); incognitive (realized ignorance, a gap); volitional (resp. procognitive) (the will of filling a gap).

This idea may be also expressed in more traditional terminology − without the use of the concept of the picture of situation − as follows. Questions are expressions which express jointly: (a′) (b′) (c′)

some convictions; lack of some convictions; the will of acquiring some convictions.

It is easy to notice the vagueness of formulae (a′)-(c′). In standard approaches we are told that (a′) concerns a conviction about the truthfulness of an assumption of a question, (b′) concerns the lack of knowledge, which of direct answers is a truth, and (c′) concerns the will of possessing knowledge, which of direct answers is correct. However,

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can we specify conditions (a′)-(c′) like this? No − until we have not characterized the concepts of the answer and of the assumption of a question. The problem is that the concepts of question, answer and assumption are strictly − i.e., definitionally − correlated. From this point of view, the proposal of to express intuitions concerning the sense of questions by appealing to the concept of the picture of a situation seems to be better, since it requires neither the concept of assumption nor the concept of answer. But of course I am also aware that this explication is far from the expected standards of precision. 2. Hypothetical Components of the Sense of Questions There are questions which possess, besides the above mentioned ones, a certain additional component − namely a hypothetical component. There are questions which communicate not only the will of filling a gap in the picture of situation but also a hypothesis of how to fill it. This function is played by at least some questions constructed in English by inversion, without any specialised particle.65 But there are languages in which a special particle is used in syntactic structure of these questions − for instance, in Polish − there is an operator ‘czy?’; there are also few such operators in Latin. Let us compare situation in which A asks: (2)

Who composed Eine kleine Nachtmusik?

with the situation in which A asks: (3)

Did Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart compose Eine kleine Nachtmusik?

In the case of the question (2) the person A expresses the will to fill a gap in a picture of situation consisting of holding a binary relation of composing between something unknown (there is a gap in the first argument) and Eine kleine Nachtmusik. The case of (3) is traditionally analyzed as follows. The person A does not know whether Mozart composed Eine kleine Nachtmusik is a fact or not. If we want to express this intuition in the terminology accepted here, one had to say that the gap concerns the whole situation.

65

There are various terms in the literature referring to questions of this kind: ‘whetherquestions’, ‘polar questions’, ‘yes-no questions’, etc., but according to me none of these terms is adequate to the concept to which it refers.

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I am convinced that at least the majority of questions regarded traditionally as questions with a situation-gap (or as questions about the logical value of a sentence) fulfill in fact another communicative function. Note that question (3) may be pronounced with differing intonations by accenting various parts of it. For instance, one may say: (4) (5) (6)

Did Mozart compose Eine kleine Nachtmusik? Did Mozart compose Eine kleine Nachtmusik? Did Mozart compose Eine kleine Nachtmusik?

where the underlining symbolizes intonational stress. It seems that the difference between the communicative sense of (3) and of (2) consists in the fact that in (3) one communicates not only the will of filling a gap in a picture of situation but also a hypothesis of how to fill this gap. Thus, the volitional component of (3) may be described as the will of not only filling a gap, but also of a verification of the proposed hypothesis. When we utter questions of type (2) seriously, we propose a certain hypothesis and expect our respondent to verify it. 66 3. Terminological Specifications After these preliminary analyses of the communicative sense of questions, let me make the concepts loosely characterized above more precise. Let us start, once again, with an elementary situation. Assume that the certain person A (interrogator) at some time and in some place puts the following question-token: (7 TOKEN) Who composed Eine kleine Nachtmusik? We already know that if person A is speaking seriously, then there is a specific particular experience motivating A to ask and expressed in this question. This experience is composed of cognitive, incognitive and volitional elements. Let us call such a particular experience of A “an inquiry-token” and let us call the whole situation − “erotetic situation.” The term ‘question’ is used in various senses with reference to various parts of erotetic situation or to objects abstracted from such a situation. Sometimes the term ‘question’ is used with reference to the product of uttering (7 TOKEN ) − i.e., to a certain expression-token. This expressiontoken may be considered with or without the experience-token 66

See also “Historical and Polemical Comments” and the next chaper.

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105

accompanying it. Let us call the expression-token (7TOKEN) together with the inquiry-token accompanying it − “interrogating.” Uttering (7TOKEN ) is an act of expressing directly experienced inquiry-token. If utterance of (7 TOKEN ) were not accompanied by the appropriate inquiry-token (e.g., of the person A knew who composed Eine kleine Nachtmusik or did not want to know who composed it), then the activity of A would not be interrogating. So far, we have analyzed only particular elements of erotetic situation: particular utterances, particular experiences and objects composed of particular utterances and particular experiences. However, all these objects may be universalized and this is what shifts our investigations to another ontological level. As the result of the universalization of expressions-tokens we obtain expressions-types. So let us consider the product of universalization of (7 TOKEN ), i.e., the question-type: (7 TYPE )

Who composed Eine Kleine Nachtmusik?

Whenever I use the term ‘question’ without any additional comments, I have in mind such an expression-type. The similar process of generalization and universalization may be applied to the content of experiences accompanying utterances of question, i.e., one may construct an inquiry-type. Inquiries-types are composed of the afore mentioned cognitive, incognitive and volitional components, exposed to universalization. Whenever I use the term ‘inquiry’ without any additional comments, I have in mind such an experience-type.

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Inquirytype

Inquirytoken

experiences

communicates

Questiontype

Questiontoken

TYPES

TOKENS

utters

An inquiry-type is a universalized inquiry-token. We say that a question Q communicates an inquiry I, iff tokens of Q are suitable to express tokens of I. (We say analogously that the sentence communicates a certain judgment iff it is suitable to express convictions falling under this judgment.) Some theorists of questions claim that one may express particular inquiries-tokens without the use of questions (not uttering any token of a question). Such an expression of inquiries-tokens I shall call “expressing inquiries indirectly.” 4. The Concept of Inquiry Special attention should be paid to the concept of inquiry, especially in comparison to the concept of judgment. The analysis of the concept of inquiry throws light on the concept of correlate of sentences. Let me repeat that abstract representations may be constructed not only on the basis of the parts of reality to which sentences refer, but also from experiences which accompany utterances of sentences (i.e., convictional experiences). Can we do both with questions? Note, first of all, that the reality has no gaps. If we are to abstract situations with gaps from reality, we should make an additional “cutting

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out” of some elements from the abstracted situation. Let us consider the situation being the correlate of the sentence: (8)

A certain talented pianist performed on the 23th of February 2009, at 5 p.m., piano Sonata C-Major by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.

We may cut out artificially (mentally) some elements of the situation being a correlate of (8) and obtain a less complete situation, i.e., an abstract situation with a gap. Language counterparts of such incomplete situations would have the form of expressions with variables, e.g.: (9) (10)

Some P-like pianist performed on the 23th of February 2009 a certain musical composition. A certain pianist performed at a certain moment a certain sonata.

etc. As we see, one may construct many various abstract “gapped” situations on the basis of one real, complete situation. By the way, it would be interesting to construct a satisfactory formal ontology for such gapped situations. 67 Whatever we think about gaps in extralinguistic reality, gaps in our pictures of the world seem to be something very natural. There are no gaps in real states of affairs but there are some “real” gaps in or knowledge about reality. All people realize that from time to time their ignorance in some domain or with respect to a certain problem. That is why making use of the concept of the gapped picture of situation seems to me much more natural and intuitive than (ab)using the concept of gapped situations. The analysis of the concept of the gapped picture of a situation is the first step in an analysis of the concept of inquiry.68 Probably every mental picture of a real state of affairs possesses some gaps. 69 If the sentence (8) 67 The idea of such an ontology may be connected to the ontology of fiction, since every fiction (e.g., a literary one) is “gapped.” Let me recall the above mentioned example of Janko Muzykant. Sienkiewicz did not write that Janko Muzykant played for people in the tavern or that Janko Muzykant did not play for them. Thus, in the fictional world of Janko Muzykant there is an irremovable gap concerning this situation. The process of creating fictions is similar to the process of the schematization of reality: pictures of reality are gapped, just like images being the basis of fiction. 68 The term ‘gapped picture of situation’ is unfortunately amphibological, since we have “a gapped-picture of a situation” or “a gapped picture-of-a-situation.” But in most contexts it is unquestionable which interpretation of the term I have in mind. 69 Maybe there are no gaps in some pictures of mathematic situations, such as the correlate of the sentence ‘2 + 3 = 5’ − but the mathematical world is not a real (i.e., spatiotemporal) one.

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is true, and a judgment corresponding to it is considered as a picture of a fact (ignore for a moment the assertive element), then there are several gaps in this picture: e.g., a gap concerning the clothing of the pianist, the make of the piano, etc. (in fact, the sentence does not even state that this pianist played the piano and not, e.g., the violin; we only guess that it had to be a piano, since Mozart’s piano sonata was performed). But let me stress once again: only a realized gap may be the basis for posing a question. Only realized gaps can be expressed in words and only such gaps are the components of investigations. The construction of the concept of the gapped picture of situation is only one of many problems connected with the construction of the concept of inquiry. A gapped picture of a situation reflects cognitive and incognitive elements of inquiries, but there is still a volitional component to explicate. The presence of this volitional element is usually an argument for the thesis that the sense of question may be explicated only on a pragmatic level or by the use of non-classical logic: there is no place for the concept of knowledge and for a concept of will in traditional semantics. I suppose that everyone has at some point been witness to a situation where two questions of the same shape were posed by two different people (i.e., two tokens of one question-type were uttered by two different persons). If we are inclined to agree that these two tokens express the same (or at least similar) convictional states, then we should also agree that these tokens (similar to the form) express similar volitional states (‘similar’ means here “falling under the same experience-type”). So, every question communicates a certain abstracted will of filling a gap in a picture of situation − a will independent from any person who actually experiences it. Volitional acts, as well as convictional acts, may be exposed to universalization. As an effect of the universalization of conviction we obtain an assertive component of a judgment. As an effect of the universalization of volitional acts we obtain a volitional component of an inquiry. 5. Graphic Representation Let me briefly recapitulate. Inquiries consist of a gapped pictures of a situations together with a conviction that these pictures are adequate with respect to reality (or fiction or idealization); these gapped pictures are enriched by the will of filling a gap.

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Let us visualize this approach graphically. As the point of departure, let us take the question: (11)

Who loved Constanze Weber?

The basis of an inquiry corresponding to this question is a conviction that somebody loved Constanze Weber:

b

☺ The fact that this picture of a situation is intentionally adequate was emphasized by locating the appropriate drawing in a box. The symbol ‘b’ is a sign of a gap in the first argument of the relation of love. This gap is somehow shaped: only people (or rather representations of people) may be fitted into it.70 This convictional experience is collected with the will of filling a gap. The volitional component may be represented as something referring to the whole picture of a situation (the will of completing a picture) or as something referring only to a gap (the will of filling a gap). Thus, the inquiry might be represented as follows:

70

See Chapter VI and the analysis of the concept of query.

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Theory of Questions

b The will of completing

☺

b The will of filling

☺ Let me stress that volitional experiences communicated in questions are directed to our mental states, to our knowledge. In questions, we communicate the will of changing (making more complete or sharper) our intentionally adequate pictures of situations; we do not communicate the will of changing something in external situations. That is the most important difference between questions and orders. Now, let us consider the representation of the hypothetical inquiry, corresponding to the question: (12)

Did Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart love Constanze Weber?

The Communicative Function of Questions

111

The will of verification

☺ In a hypothetical inquiry, the gap in the picture of situation is hypothetically filled (in this example, one puts forward a hypothesis that it was Mozart who loved Constanze Weber). 6. Questions versus Orders and Declarative Sentences In contrast to questions, orders communicate volitional states concerning reality, not pictures of reality. Let us consider the following imperative sentence: (13)

Let Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart love Constanze Weber!

A graphic representation of experience being a counterpart of (13) differs in some respects from the representation of an inquiry. Loosely speaking, an experience expressed by imperatives consists of a certain picture of the situation and the will to realize this situation, the will for this picture to be real: to correspond to reality. A picture being the basis of this imperative is not intentionally adequate (thus it was not marked by a box in the representation): we never order something to become true which we already know is true. (In our example: a friend of Constanze Weber might have expressed a wish in (13) at the moment in which Mozart did not love Constanze − in fact at first he was in love with Constanze’s sister. However, at the moment in which we know that Mozart already fell in love with Constanze, expressing such a desire is not rational.) Generalizing, in a wish we have a basic picture enriched by the will to realize it.

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Theory of Questions

The will of realizing

☺ I make a sharp distinction between volitional states aiming at filling a gap in a picture of situation and volitional states aiming at realizing the picture of situation. The first state is a component of an inquiry; the second one may be called “a wish” (or “a desire”) and is a component of a communicative sense of orders. Somebody could argue that wishes − as well as inquiries − do not refer to all situations, but only to some parts of them and that wishes also possess some basic convictions as their basis. For example, the wish expressed in (13) would have a basis in conviction that somebody will love Constanze Weber and this conviction would be accompanied by a desire that Mozart should be that person. Such a wish may be represented as follows:

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113

b The will of realizing

☺ One may often meet with the claim that questions − as well as orders − communicate wishes. Let us analyze this view, since it is an essential part of many important theories of questions. The argument supporting this claim runs as follows. Inquiries play a role of wishes if the state of affairs which one wants to realize uttering a questions, consists in a change in an external situation. Since a change in a mental state of a real person is (accompanied with) a kind of change in reality − questions in fact expresses wishes. How to represent an inquiry as a wish? Question (11) (‘Who loved Constanze Weber?’) is paraphrased as an imperative as follows: (14)

Let it be the case that I know who loved Constanze Weber.

In such an interpretation, the representation of (14) would be composed of “basic” picture of situation, call it “picture P1 ,” and the will of realizing it. Elements of P1 are: an asking person and another picture of situation, call it “picture P2 .” If we want to know something, i.e., we want to have a filled picture P2 , we also want the picture P1 to be realized:

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Theory of Questions

P2 P2

☺ The will of realizing

☺ The main problem arising here is what is the content of the inner “cloud”? It is obvious that in the inner cloud there can occur no complete (gaps-free) picture of situation. The asking person does not know, at the moment of posing a question, how to complete this picture. But we also can place in the inner cloud no gapped picture of situation and especially no gapped picture together with a will of filling it: the analysis would become circular. In my opinion, this simple and schematic reasoning proves that inquiries are not kinds of wishes; questions are not a kind of orders. Let me add that sometimes questions are also interpeted as kinds of declarative sentences. For instance (11) is representated as: (15)

I want to know who loved Constanze Weber.

should be interpreted as a declarative sentences: the speaker declares that he experiences a certain inquiry-token, but he does not express this inquiry-token directly. The schematic representation of a judgment communicated in (14) looks as follows:

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115

b The will of filling

☺ ☺ Many theorists of questions insist that we may “reduce” the sense of questions to the sense of declarative sentences. They would argue that – since I am able to list the elements of the sense of questions – I should agree that questions of the form (11), uttered by me, may be reduced to the conjunction of declarative sentences of the form: (16)

I know that somebody loved Constanze Weber, I do not know who loved her and I want to know who loved her.

However, the sense of initial formula (16) is essentially different from the sense of (11): one may express this difference saying that (16) states what (11) expresses.71 To state that one possesses experiences motivating one to ask the questions is not the same as actually asking the question. One may experience everything that is stated in (16) – without asking (11) at all. 7. Communicative Function versus Traditional Semantics One might expect that after such a loose (not-formal) characterization of correlates of questions, illustrated by diagrams and examples, I shall 71

After Kazimierz Ajdukiewicz, I distinguish stating from expressing; for instance: if a person P utters the sentence ‘p’, then this sentence states the occurrence of a certain state of affairs and expresses a conviction of P that p.

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present my approach to classically understood erotetic semantics. In the “Introduction,” I mentioned some general reasons for which I shall not present such a semantics. Now, let me present some additional comments. From the half of the 20th century, there appeared many different systems of question logic (or erotetic logic). Many aspects of their analyses made important contributions to the domain of erotetics. For instance, the logic of questions can serve as a tool for analyzing the general form of a question, classifying questions and comparing them, explicating relations between them (including quasi-inferential relations). But there is a point at which all these logical theories of questions are not adequate. What many logicians usually do is to provide the so-called semantics for questions. The problem is that such a procedure goes against the intuitions which I presented at the beginning of this chapter. It is simply not possible to include the volitional elements which are present in the sense of questions in semantics understood in this way. Equipping theories of questions with the so-called set-theoretic or possible-world semantics, some logicians propose semantics not for questions but for declarative sentences (or sets of sentences) somehow connected with questions. In fact, questions have various relations to declarative sentences, but they are not synonymous with them. Even if the set-theoretical or possible-world semantics is a very good tool for explicating the representational functions of expressions, it cannot serve as a tool for adequately explicating the communicative functions. Let me add some further theortical remarks. A language is equipped with a sense only if its expressions refer to a certain objective domain. In order to understand the theory T, expressed in the language L − and in order to estimate its correctness − one has to know what are correlates of the language L: one has to indicate the domain D to which T refers. There are two ways of indicating a certain domain: verbal (by language signs) or extraverbal (by ostension). In the first case − one has to describe the domain D by the use of some language L′. The language L′ has to be − by assumption − a language understandable as such: a language which does not require any explicit interpretation. Logicians usually use the language of set theory as such a language L′. Equipping the theory T with logical semantics consists in indicating the domain D, to which T refers − in the language of set theory. Simplifying: it consists of describing the rules of translating (expressions of) the language L to (expressions of ) the language L′ (usually − of set theory). Logicians have an important reason to carry out this procedure. Firstly, they assume that the language of set theory provides them with the perfect tools of

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categorization of reality. Secondly, the language of set theory fulfills the highest standards of precision. I am not denying the second opinion but I think there are some arguments for questioning the first one. Even if set theory is an adequate theory of all domains of reality, it is not necessarily the only adequate theory of it. There are circumstances in which it is easier to express our intuitions in a language different from the language of set theory. It is in fact the case of the domain of the theory of questions. As I already mentioned in the “Introduction,” there are many valuable dissertations which provide us with the logical semantics of erotetic language but I am convinced that there are some aspects of the theory of questions which are beyond the explication power of the language of set theory. Since I aim at being maximally precise but also providing a maximally complete description of the domain of erotetic, I cannot ignore intuitions which escape from the conceptual apparatus of set theory. Simultaneously, I am aware that there is no theory which could serve as a competitor to the set theory and could be used as a tool for explicating these intuitions. My “semantics” of questions is thus expressed in heterogeneous and unordered language, being in fact a conglomeration of parts of natural language, composed only ad usum delfini. In this situation I am not able − at least at this stage of research − to put my intuitions in a shape similar to the shape of traditional semantic theories. Of course, I do not deny that the conception proposed here may some day become mature enough to be the basis of formal construction but it is to early to do that now. I am also convinced that formalizing “premature” conceptions is an idle activity. Formal systems, based on weakly crystallized or even inadequate intuitions − which are to be intended interpretations of these systems − are nothing but collections of “empty inscriptions” or spatial ornaments. Let me repeat after Łukasiewicz: I am not a graphic artist or a calligrapher, and I am not interested in ornaments or inscriptions. ([1937] 1970, pp. 240-241)

HISTORICAL AND POLEMICAL COMMENTS A. Terminology. Distinctions analogical to the ones introduced by me were proposed by Pelc (1991, pp. 288-289). He distinguishes: (1a)

question as an interrogative sentence taken as regards its semantic and pragmatic aspect;

118 (1b) (2a) (2b) (3a) (3b)

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question as an interrogative sentence uttered with interrogative intention; a content of an interrogative sentence together with its semantic and pragmatic component; propositional content of a question; an utterance of an interrogative sentence accompanied by interrogative attitude; an utterance of an interrogative sentence not accompanied by interrogative attitude.

Already in 1911, Daubert distinguishes: (a) (b) (c)

the mental act of questioning (in German: das Fragen); the question itself, as logical formation (in German: die Frage); the question as addressed to someone, the directed question (in German: die Anfrage). For details – see Schumann and Smith (1987, pp. 353-384).

B. Etymology. My explication of the sense of questions possesses a kind of justification in the etymology of English ‘to ask’ and its Polish equivalent. The English noun and verb ‘[to] question’ together with the French ‘question’ has a similar Latin root. Hiż mentions that in the 17th century the verb ‘question’ meant “to interrogate by the use of tortures.” Hiż adds jocosely that it was not surprising that Diderot was absolutely against . . . questioning (1978b, p. 213). I suppose it is also the reason for the fact that Bacon compared experimenting to torturing nature, a comparison recalled by Struyken Boudier (1988, p. 19). The Polish equivalent for the verb ‘question’ has a similar origin. At first, in the past, ‘pytać’ had a concrete, physical meaning − “to cut,” “to prune.” Then, in the 16th century, it meant a “legal inquest with beating and torturing.” In the end, the meaning became more and more abstract and finally ‘pytać’ means “to search, to inquire” (see DługoszKurczabowa 1998, p. 169). The verb ‘to ask’ has different root and also a double meaning in English. It is probably one of the reasons for explaining the sense of questions with the concept of wish. C. The Content of Inquiry. The oldest expression of the idea that questions communicate the will of filling a gap in the picture of reality is probably that of Hobbes (1655). According to him, questions “express desires and feelings” and “the will of acquainting with something.”

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I did not find any analysis which identifies the correlate of a question with the abstract object being universalized content of experiences which motivates us to put a question. But there are some remarks − especially those of Twardowski, Ingarden, and Dąmbska − which encouraged me to propose such an analysis of the communicative function of questions. Twardowski stressed that besides questions-actions there are also questions-products. He understands the latter not as the result of the act of uttering a question-token but as a result of the mental act of investigating. He wrote: In the expression ‘This question cannot be resolved’ [the word ‘question’] refers not to an act but to a product. (1912, p. 224)

Ingarden ([1923] 1972) identified an inquiry with “formal object of question” − and that is a gate leading to treating such an experience as semantico-ontological correlate of a question. But Ingarden did not postulate the existence of formal objects of every question; it concerns never uttered questions in particular. This is, as I suppose, the sense of the following passage: To avoid misunderstandings: the formal object of a question, as only intentional correlate of a question, exists only under the condition that the question exists. (p. 332)

Nb. Ingarden was also not inclined to postulate the existence of formal correlates of sentences. It is a surprising fact that there are many proposals of abstracting judgments (contents of sentences) from the experiences of users but almost nobody proposed to abstract the content of questions from the experiences of people uttering them. The only person who allows this was Dąmbska in her comments to Bolzano’s writings. Bolzano was a supporter of the imperative interpretation of questions and he identified questions with sentences postulating to choose the true answers from among possible ones. Dąmbska (1981, p. 86) recalls Bolzano’s conviction that the ontological status of judgments is independent from the mental states of people uttering sentences. She suggests that that the same may be done with the content of questions (see “Appendix”). An approach probably the most similar to presented by me can be found in Daubert (see my comment [A]). He distinguishes concepts of “Sachverhalt” (state of affairs), “Erkenntisverhalt” (what is present in judgments) and “Frageverhalt” which is, more or less, an object called by me “a gapped picture of situation.” This is how Schumann and Smith characterize Daubert’s ideas:

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The question-sentence can thereby be said to express a questioning act in just the same sense in which a judgment-sentence expresses an act of judgment. [. . .] What the judgment presents we have already met: it is the Erkenntnisverhalt, the Sachverhalt as cognized, and thus we can now say that it is towards formations of this kind, or towards a move from the relatively open Frageverhalt to the relatively closed Erkenntnisverhalt, that questions aim. (1987, p. 370)

However, one has to stress that Daubert does not includes any volitional element into his notion of Frageverhalt: The question considered purely as logical formation, i.e., in abstraction from associated dimensions of attitude, mood, striving, etc., relates purely to the sphere of things: it is not a product of any inward directedness such that it would register, e.g., doubt or uncertainty on the part of the questioner. Its object is not a thing or complex of things but belongs, like that of the judgment, to the family of states of affairs. [. . .] The case of the act of questioning this correlate is what Daubert calls a Frageverhalt, a state of affairs as questioned. (p. 379)

D. Questions and Commands. In Daubert, I also find a supporter of the view that qustions are not kinds of commands. He writes: In the optative and in commanding something is expressed which, no matter whether we consider the wish or command of a human being or of a subject in general, concerns the relation of this subject to others. This differs from the pure question, which contains nothing of such a relation and remains, exactly like the judgment, wholly in the sphere of things. (Schumann and Smith 1987, p. 371).

E. Hypothetic Component. I know no approach in which questions constructed in English by inversion are explicitly interpreted in the way I propose to analyze them. But there are some approaches having some aspects in common to my proposal. Trzęsicki (1975) (but only en passant) emphasizes the hypothetical character of these questions. He writes that such questions are put not in the situation of ignorance but in the situation of uncertainty as regards the previously assumed hypothesis (1975, p. 172). Similar intuitions are expressed by some linguists − e.g., Świdziński (1973, p. 235), Danielewiczowa (1996, pp. 60-63), Wiertlewski (1994, p. 194) and Doroszewski (2001, pp. 143-144). I discuss some points of their views in comments to the Chapter VI. F. The Complexity of the Sense of Questions. Most eroteticians agree that the sense of questions is exceptionally complex in comparison with

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the sense of other expressions. The explication of this complex sense most similar to that proposed here was delivered by Koj (1971a). Koj notices that differences between various erotetic theories have a source in that their authors assume different components of the sense of questions as the essential ones and they are inclined to reduce the sense of questions to these chosen, essential ones. For instance, those who emphasize the cognitive component of an inquiry reduce questions to declarative sentences. Those who emphasize the volitional component are keen to interpret questions as imperatives. G. Psychologists on the Functions of Questions. The composed function of questions − as expressions communicating the will of filling cognitive gaps − seems to be noticed by psychologists who analyze the children’s verbal behavior. Chouinard writes: How this process of asking questions to build up knowledge work? The model presented in this monograph argues the following. The child is engaged with something, and brings an existing conceptual structure to the situation. [. . .] The child encounters some problem (i.e., incomplete knowledge or a gap in knowledge, some contradiction in expectation of knowledge already in place; ambiguous information or circumstances), and this leads to state of disequilibrium. This state motivates the child to ask a question to get information that can resolve the problem at hand. (2007, p. 4)

H. Imperative-Epistemic Explication of the Sense of Questions. In Section 6, I presented my main arguments against imperative-epistemic conception of questions. Let me now add some new remarks. A tendency to treat questions as a kind of imperative is quite old: Bolzano ([1837] 1999) is considered as the precursor of this idea. The most popular contemporary version of this approach is the one proposed by Åquist (1965; 1971; 1975) and modified by Hintikka (1976; 1983); I shall concentrate on these authors. When one paraphrases questions in imperative-epistemic approach, it is not possible to avoid the use of dependent questions in the paraphrase. For instance: (1)

(2)

Did Krystian Zimerman record Chopin’s concertos? – Let it be the case that I know if Krystian Zimerman recorded Chopin’s concertos. Who recorded Chopin’s concertos? − Let it be the case that I know who recorded Chopin’s concertos.

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Representatives of the imperative-epistemic approach are aware of a certain circularity of their analyses and try to remove it. Their strategy consists of attempting to reduce the functors ‘know if ’, ‘know who’, ‘know why’, etc. to functors already analyzed by logicians, namely ‘know that’. But a paraphrase containing the functor ‘know that’ cannot enjoy the following shape: (3) (4)

Let it be the case that I know that Zimerman recorded Chopin’s concertos or that Zimerman did not record Chopin’s concertos. Let it be the case that I know that Chopin’s concertos are recorded by Zimerman or that Chopin’s concertos are recorded by Rubinstein or that Chopin’s concertos are recorded by Richter, etc.

just because the fact that everybody who seriously puts the questions (1) and (2) already knows what is expressed by sentences occurring after ‘that’ in (3) and (4). The following paraphrases sound equally unnaturally: (5) (6)

Let it be the case that I know that Zimerman recorded Chopin’s concertos or let it be the case that I know that Zimerman did not record Chopin’s concertos. Let it be the case that I know that Chopin’s concertos are recorded by Zimerman or let it be the case that I know that Chopin’s concertos were recorded by Rubinstein or let it be the case that Chopin’s concertos were recorded by Richter, etc.

Supporters of imperative-epistemic interpretation propose to paraphrase (1) and (2) in such a way: (7)

(8)

of

questions

If Zimerman recorded Chopin’s concertos, then let it be the case that I know that Zimerman recorded Chopin’s concertos and if Zimerman did not record Chopin’s concertos, then let it be the case that I know that Zimerman did not record them. ∀x (x recorded Chopin’s concertos → let it be the case that I know that x recorded Chopin’s concertos)

However, for instance, Karttunen (1977) notices that only some expressions, containing embedded questions, can be paraphrases similarly to (7) and (8). The following paraphrases seem to be incorrect: (9)

John wondered whether Krystian Zimerman recorded Chopin’s concertos − *If Zimerman recorded Chopin’s concertos, then John wondered that Zimerman recorded Chopin’s concertos and if Zimerman did not record Chopin’s concertos, then John wondered that Zimerman did not record Chopin’s concertos.

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(10)

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John wonders who recorded Chopin’s concertos. − *For every x (x recorded Chopin’s concertos → John wonders that x recorded Chopin’s concertos)

If somebody proposes to reduce the sense of expressions ‘know if ’, ‘know who’, etc. to the expression ‘know that’, then he should also explain the sense of embedded questions in other contexts. Le us add the argument mentioned already by Frege ([1892] 2006). If we analyze interrogative sentences as expressions which refer to the person who utters this sentence, then we should do the same with declarative sentences. Thus, the sentence ‘Zimerman recorded Chopin’s concertos’ should be analyzed as ‘I think [or ‘I am convinced’] that Zimerman recorded Chopin’s concertos’ but we do not do so in the case of sentences. By the way, I am convinced that the expression ‘I want to know that p’ (or ‘Let it be the case that I know that p’) is semantically defective. I would never say “I want to know that the weather will be fine tomorrow” or “Let it be the case that I know that the winner of the next Chopin piano competition is a Pole.” (We sometimes encounter this in everyday situations, but only in the sense ‘I want you to tell me [resp. to confirm] that p’, which is of course not the “normal” sense of ‘to know’.) However, I may say “I want the weather be fine tomorrow” or “Let it be the case that the winner of the next Chopin piano competition will be a Pole.” A “clever” natural language seems to confirm my hypothesis about the difference between volitional acts concerning mental and extramental states. After the expression ‘I want to know’ only a nominalized question − not a nominalized sentence − can occur since only questions communicate volitional experiences concerning cognitive states. I. Other Imperative Approaches. Åquist’s and Hintikka’s imperativeepistemic approach is only one of many similar approaches. One may find a review of them by Harrah (2002). I shall only mention here that in Polish linguistics there exists a similar approach introduced by Bogusławski and adopted by Danielewiczowa. In this approach, a question is understood as the will to be confronted with some true sentences concerning a certain domain, so it is a kind of approach called “Tell Me Truly” (see Harrah 2002). Danielewiczowa writes: The formula ‘The sender wants to cause to be confronted with true sentences about’ is very convenient, since it suspends the problem of knowledge of ignorance of the person who poses the question. It also includes such troublesome interrogatives as deliberative, didactic, and rhetorical questions which one does not want to exclude from the class of

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questions but which do not express the ignorance of the sender. (1996, p. 39)

Let us notice that in such an approach, an incognitive component of the sense of question is absent: an asking person does not communicate possessing a gap in the picture of situation. One of advantages of this is that one may construct one general theory for many kind of questions, also didactic and rhetorical ones. But this profit is disproportionate as regards the wastes. Didactic and rhetorical questions are posed in untypical erotetic situations and that is why there is no need to take them into consideration in a general theory of questions. J. Questions as Speech Acts. A specific proposal of reducing questions to wishes was delivered by Searle. We read in Searle: Some kinds of illocutionary acts are in fact a special cases of other ones: posing a questions is a special kind of request for information or asking the hearer to reveal his knowledge. (1969, p. 89)

Searle describes the rules of using questions as follows: Rule of propositional content: Any proposition or propositional function. Preparatory rule: (1) S does not know “the answer,” i.e., does not know if the proposition is true, or, in the case of propositional function, does not know the information needed to complete the proposition truly [. . .]. (2) It is not obvious to both S and [the questioned person] H that H will provide the information at the time without being asked. Rule of sincerity: S wants this information; Essential rule: Counts as an attempt to elicit this information from H. (p. 66)

I understand the rule of sentence-content is such a way: every question is based on an intentionally-adequate picture of situation − a picture with a gap. The preparatory rule (1) corresponds to incognitive component of the sense of a question. The preparatory rule (2) is unfortunately unclear for me. The rule of honesty corresponds to volitional component of the sense of question. But I am not inclined to agree that the will of bringing out information from the interlocutor is something essential for questions. I do not deny that questions put to other people oblige them − in some sense − to give us the answer. But there are also many seriously asked questions which are not accompanied by the will to extract information from somebody else. I have in mind questions put to ourselves and research questions which possess science as their “sender.” A similar idea was expressed by Husserl, who compared the content of questions to the content of sentences:

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The sense of interrogative sentence is the same, independently on whether it is an inner question or a question put to somebody. [. . .] Similarly as the content of judgment, i.e., a specific character of a definite judgment, here the content of a question is a sense of interrogative sentence. ([1901] 1970, pp. 253-254)

K. The Volitional Component. The volitional component of questions is often characterized as the will of a certain behavior of the respondent. I agree that in typical situations one expects the respondent to give the answer. However, my intuition tells me that our expectations concerning the actions of the respondent are secondary with respect to our will fill our cognitive gaps. Respondents are “mediums” which help us to make our pictures of the world more accurate. Let me add that also according to Daubert – questions put to other people are only a special case of questions in general and that the will of being answered by interlocutor is not contained in the sense of questions: A question, as we have seen, “need not have an address” [. . .]. It can occur even where there is no addressee, where it is put “in silent thinking” [. . .]. That specific formation which is called the directed question is however characterized by the fact that “it addresses someone and calls for information from him” [. . .], “aims at being answered by another individual (be it real, general, ideal, or fictitious).” (Schumann and Smith 1987, p. 372)

L. Consciousness of Queston-States. Doz. Arkadiusz Chrudzimski and Dr Robin Rollinger, discussing my erotetic standpoint, remarked that volitional acts expressed in questions may also be considered as directed to the “world,” not to pictures of the world, and they mentioned Daubert as representing such a view. Doz. Chrudzimski gave the example of children, who are, let us say, “experts” in posing questions – but it is doubtful whether their acts are consciously directed at their mental states. In fact, when a child asks “What is this?” pointing at a certain object one has the impression that this child is completely concentrated on this “external” object. I would answer this objection as follows. Firstly, sometimes we are not conscious of the exact content of our thoughts. The fact that children are not probably conscious that they want to increase their knowledge is not a decisive argument against the thesis that they do in fact want to increase it. Generally speaking, consciousness of the occurrence of a given experience in our mind is not a necessary condition of the occurrence itself. Secondly, let us recall that the content of questions consists of three elements: it consists of an underlying conviction, a

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realized ignorance and the will to remove this ignorance (fill a gap). Our convictions concern reality – a child asking “What is this?” realizes that there is something in reality which is not familiar to him (sometimes it only means that the child does not know the name of this object). Children’s cognitive states are in such a situation directed towards reality but the volitional acts concern their mental “maps” of reality. Finely, let us consider an analogy to (declarative) sentences. It is commonly accepted view that sentences, uttered seriously, express convictions. But I would not say that anybody who utters seriously a sentence is conscious that he is expressing his convictions – except of situations in which one uses attutide verbs such as ‘I am convinced that . . . ’. M. Questions and Ignorance. An interesting attempt to reduce the content of questions to the incognitive component was proposed by Bromberger (1988, pp. 128-129). He treats questions as expressions representing the content of our ignorance. Ignorance is defined as follows (I change his formulation a little in order to adapt it to my conceptual scheme): Ignorance of the person A is a kind of relation between the person A and a set of questions − such that A does not know which direct answers to elements of Q are true and A does not have even any assumptions, which of them are true. We may call such a set of questions to which A does not know the answer at a given moment t − “the range of ignorance of A” (in short − Qt). We say that A knows less in the moment t1 than in the moment t 2 iff Q t2 ≤ Q t1 , so when there is a question that belongs to the range of ignorance of A at the moment t1 and does not belong to the range of ignorance at the moment t 2 . Bromberger notices that reduction of ignorance may happen by accident or by intentional acts. If it is the second case (intentional acts) − it consists of two steps: the choice of a question from the initial range of ignorance and the choice of method for finding the answer to that question. The first step is rational under the condition that the choice of a question is rational − i.e., it is chosen with respect to the balance of profits and wastes. My reservations with Bromberger’s conception result from the fact that questions express not only ignorance but also the will to complete knowledge (the will of passing from the state of ignorance to the state of knowledge). Let us agree that sometimes we do not know something but this ignorance is not accompanied by the will to acquire knowledge about that. I know, e.g., that I do not know how many tourists visited Salzburg

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in 2008, but I just do not want to know that. We may express our ignorance accurately by sentences such as ‘I do not know [q]’ (where ‘[q]’ is a nominalized question). As I already mentioned, we are not able to explicate the sense of such sentences without explicating the sense of embedded question. But in nominalized questions the volitional element is just not present (see also the Chapter VI). Let me add that if we want to represent the ignorance of a given subject (of a particular person or of idealized subject such as science as a whole) as a set of questions, then it has to be a representation of conscious ignorance. Only among the elements of conscious ignorance we are able to choose an element of which we want to get rid of at first. I assume here that the concept of conscious ignorance is intuitively clear: there are things we do not know but we also do now know that we do not know them. But we are not able to indicate any of the elements of such an unconscious knowledge, without becoming aware of it. I may only indicate a retrospective example: 20 minutes ago I did not know that I did not know how many tourists visited Salzburg in 2008. It is much easier to give an example of unconscious ignorance of somebody else. For instance, I am (almost) sure that the Burgermeister of Salzburg neither knows what I am doing when I am writing this text nor does she knows that she does not know that. The Burgermeister is just not aware of my existence. Thus, the Burgermeister of Salzburg is not able to experience the will of filling a gap in a picture of situation expressed by the sentence ‘What is Anna Brożek doing now?’.

CHAPTER VI THE STRUCTURE OF NATURAL-LANGUAGE QUESTIONS Before presenting the analysis of logical form of questions, I shall make some comments concerning questions in natural language. By utilizing examples of such questions I shall try to justify my conception of the semiotic function of questions and provide a basis for my analysis of their structure. One of the main aims of this chapter is to introduce definitions of erotetic concepts which I will use in the subsequent parts of the book and to sketch definitional connections between elements of the erotetic conceptual scheme. 1. General Characteristics of Completive Questions In the previous chapter, I discussed two types of experiences which may motivate one to pose questions, two types of inquiries. An inquiry of the first type was characterized as a will of filling a gap in an intentionally adequate picture of situation. I shall call such an inquiry − “completive inquiry.” An inquiry of the second type possesses, besides cognitive, incognitive and volitional components also a certain hypothetical one. I shall call such an inquiry − “hypothetive inquiry.” These two types of questions-states have counterparts in natural language; moreover − the analysis and interpretation of natural language questions (in English, Latin, Polish, and other Indo-European languages) inclines one to distinguish these two types of inquiries. Let us begin with the analysis of completive questions − i.e., questions being language correlates of completive inquiries. Consider the following examples: (1) (2) (3)

Who composed Così fan tutte? Where was Mozart born? Whom did Mozart marry?

The structure of all these questions is similar. They consist of three explicit parts: a question particle (‘who’, ‘where’, and ‘whom’,

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respectively), a question mark (‘?’) and a “remainder.” I shall call a question particle together with a question mark − “a query.” The remaining part shall be called “a tenor.” On the basis of every completive question, one may reconstruct the so-called “datum quaestionis,” which is a scheme of expected answers to this question. In the cases of (1)-(3) we have the following data: (4) (5) (6)

x composed Così fan tutte. Mozart was born in x. Mozart married x.

A variable occurring in datum quaestionis is the so-called unknown of a question. Its scope is defined by the sense of the query: queries ‘who?’ and ‘whom?’ define the set of (names of) people; the query ‘where?’ − defines the set of (names of) places, etc. All natural language queries have limited scopes of unknowns. It is no wonder that in many languages there exist special queries which define certain special scopes of unknowns − such as the set of people, places, moments, properties, etc. However, not every scope of unknown possesses a specialized query. In questions such as: (7)

Who from among philosophers is a pianist?

the whole expression ‘who from among philosophers’ serves as a query: this expression defines the scope of its unknown as a set of philosophers. The set of all people is defined by the query ‘who?’ (without additional attributes), but if we want to indicate a certain narrower scope, we have to add some attributes to it. The fact that only some ranges of unknowns are defined by a one-word, specialized query is a problem of the “surface” of ethnic languages and one should not be misled by this fact in general erotetic considerations. Since we understand the term ‘query’ so broadly, it is obvious that we cannot list all queries in natural language. We are able only construct a list of elementary queries, i.e., queries which are indispensable parts of every (even complex) query (such as ‘who?’ in the case of [7]). One of the difficulties in interpretation of natural language questions is how to distinguish query (especially a complex one) from tenor. I shall come back to this problem in next sections. In English, there is a question-operator that may be considered to be the most universal one: we may assume that it occurs − explicitly or implicitly − in every query of a completive question: I mean the operator ‘which?’. It appears relatively often in completive questions together with additional words, defining the scope of their unknown. But

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specialized queries may also be paraphrased by the use of the operator ‘which’: ‘who’ − means “which man,” ‘where’ − means “in which place,” etc. 2. Hypothetive Questions Until now, I have only analyzed the structure of completive questions, i.e., questions communicating the will of filling a gap in a given picture of situation. Let us now concentrate on the structure of hypothetive questions, e.g.: (8) (9) (10)

Did Mozart compose Così fan tutte? Was Mozart born in Salzburg? Did Mozart marry Constanze Weber?

According to the intuitions presented in the previous chapter, hypothetive questions communicate not only the existence of a gap in a given picture of situation and a will of filling this gap; they also present its hypothetical filling. In this approach hypothetive questions are neither questions concerning the “logical value” of respective sentences, nor questions concerning the whole situation pictured by the sentence being a structural part of them. Putting a hypothetic question, a questioner wants to verify his hypothesis. In English, hypothetive questions are constructed by inversion. The question-like character of these expressions is signalized by the timeoperator which occurs at the beginning of it. In other languages, e.g., in Polish, one does not need inversion, since the Polish language possesses a specialized operator ‘czy’ occurring at the beginning of hypothetive questions. A role similar to the Polish ‘czy’ is sometimes played in English by ‘whether’/‘if ’ (in German − by ‘ob’). The difference is that ‘whether’ appears in English only in embedded questions while in Polish both in embedded and simple (direct) ones. Notice that in embedded questions introduced by ‘whether’ there is no need for inversion. Thus, inversion plays the role of question-operator in not-embedded English question. Sometimes, in English grammar hypothetive questions are even called “whether-questions.” In contexts, in which I do not want to decide if my conception of these questions is correct, I shall also refer to them by this term. 72 72

The term ‘whether-question’ is useful since it possesses a structural connotation (one may also say ‘inversion-question’). Other terms, such as ‘polar questions’ or ‘yes-no questions’ are less neutral.

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The surface structure of many hypothetive questions in written English (as well as in many other written languages, e.g., Polish) is amphibolic: the structure of a given question does not determine which part of it is a hypothetic component. In oral language we indicate an appropriate part of a question by emphasis. I shall signal the emphasis by underlining an appropriate expression. The question (8) has the following variants: (11) (12) (13)

Did Mozart compose Così fan tutte? Did Mozart compose Così fan tutte? Did Mozart compose Così fan tutte?

In inflected languages one may also distinguish an appropriate part of sentence by using a special word order. For the Polish version of (8) we have (I give under the Polish questions their English approximate translations): (14)

Czy Così fan tutte skomponował Mozart? Was it Mozart who composed Così fan tutte?

(15)

Czy Mozart Così fan tutte skomponował? Was it composing what Mozart done with Cosi van tutte?

(16)

Czy Mozart skomponował Così fan tutte? Was it Così fan tutte which was composed by Mozart?

The expression put at the end is “naturally” emphasized in such questions in Polish. But there are languages in which the hypothetive character of parts of expressions is even more syntactically demonstrated. The situation is the most more obvious in contemporary Armenian. Let me take as an example the following set of questions (under the Armenian questions − English verbatim translation): (17)

Արմեն սիրում է վարդագուճն: Armenian likes color pink.

(18)

Ա՞րմեն սիրում է վարդագուճն: Does Armenian like pink color?

(19)

Արմեն սիրու՞մ է վարդագուճն: Does Armenian like pink color?

(20)

Արմեն սիրում է վարդագու՞ճն: Does Armenian like pink color?

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In Armenian, the question mark ‘?’ (used in English and in the majority of contemporary languages) is replaced by the symbol ‘՞’ and put over the last syllable of the emphasized word. 73 Let me add that, e.g., in old Polish the situation was sometimes similar; the operator ‘czy?’ appeared relatively late. In old Polish one used to add various question-suffixes to any part of a question. Here we have some examples taken from the old translation of the Holy Bible − with the question-suffix ‘li’: (21)

Mam-li bojować z Filistynami? Should I fight with Philistines?

(22)

Pokojne-li jest k nam twe weście? Are you coming to us peacefully?

(23)

I rzecze Jakub: Zdrow-li jest? Jacob says: is he well?

(24)

Twój-li jest to głos, synu mój? Is it your voice, my son?

But even in the 19th century a question mark was placed not at the end of a question but by the expression concerning a gap or its hypothetic filling (see Cyprian Norwid’s works). In our examples, the situation would look like this: (25)

Kto? skomponował Così fan tutte. Who? composed Così fan tutte.

(26)

Czy Mozart? skomponował Così fan tutte. Did Mozart? compose Così fan tutte.

Even in Latin, some hypothetive questions are composed by adding the suffix ‘-ne’ to one of components of an indicative sentences. This suffix may be added to any part of indicative sentences which suggests that it is a way of distinguishing their hypothetive component. Let us now ask if one may distinguish a query, a tenor and a datum quaestionis in hypothetive questions. I am convinced that queries in hypothetive questions are composed of two components: (a)

73

a signal of a question (in English − it is inversion plus a question mark; in Polish, Armenian, and Latin − it is a special operator plus a questions mark);

I owe this remark to Mr Piotr Wielecki.

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an expression being a language counterpart of a hypothesis of how to fill a gap.

So, in (11)-(14) the following expressions serve as queries: ‘[whether]-Mozart?’ (Polish: ‘czy-Mozart?’), ‘[whether]-[did]-compose?’ (Polish: ‘czy-skomponował?’), ‘[whether]-Così-fan-tutte?’ (Polish: ‘czyCosì-fan-tutte?’). Let me mention an additional argument for such an analysis of hypothetive questions. Compare the sentences: (27) (28)

Who composed Così fan tutte? Did Mozart compose Così fan tutte?

One has the impression that the only difference between inquries communicated by (27) and (28) is that in the case of (28), besides the will of filling a gap, there appears a hypothesis of how to fill it. In any case, the question is focused: it does not concern the whole situation but only hypothetically filled component of an inquiry. To summarize, in completive questions, queries are composed of an operator (‘which’) and a variable of finite scope which defines the “shape” of a gap; in hypothetive questions, queries are composed of a signal of a question (inversion or a special operator) and a constant referring to a hypothetic filling of a gap. 2.6. The Scope of theUunknown and Datum Quaestionis in Hypothetive Questions Let us now ask which which components of hypothetive questions may be interpreted as unknowns and data quaestiones. Generally, I am not sure of whether concepts of unknown and of datum quaestionis may be applied to the analysis of hypothetive questions but let me present three proposals of how to resolve this problem. In hypothetive questions there is no unknown sensu stricto, since gaps in the picture of situation communicated by these questions are filled (although only hypothetically).74 But let us follow the idea that datum quaestionis is a scheme of an answer to a given question. It is not difficult to indicate a set of direct answers to hypothetive question. In the case of (28) we have: (29) (30) 74

Yes, it was Mozart [who composed Così fan tutte]. No, it was not Mozart [who composed Così fan tutte].

See Ingarden, who was convinced that in the inquiry corresponding to hypothetive questions all elements are known.

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In short: (31) (32)

Yes, Mozart. No, not Mozart.

So perhaps we may define the scope of the unknown of (28) as a set {Mozart, not-Mozart} (see also Koj’s 1972 remarks). The problem is what is the sense of the name ‘not-Mozart’ in this context. It seems that it possesses the category of a name (or it belongs to a certain “supracategory,” to which there belong names and name-variables), but it is not a name sensu stricto. It seems that we need the analysis of the sense of expressions with negations, such as ‘not-Mozart’, ‘notcomposed’, ‘not-Così-fan-tutte’. Moreover, such a definition of the unknown of (28) eliminates the difference between (28) and a question: (33)

Did Mozart compose Così fan tutte, or [it was] not [him]?

When we are putting such a question, (which is a kind of selective question which will be analyzed in the next section) we treat both answers (‘yes’ and ‘no’) as equally possible but hypothetive questions are not equivalent to selective ones − what will be shown later. Let us analyze another solution of the problem of datum quaestionis in hypothetive questions. According to this one, the scope of the unknown is composed of terms expressing various levels of assertion of the proposed hypothesis. Consider the following answers to (28): (34) (35) (36) (37) (38) (39)

Surely Mozart. Presumably Mozart. Perhaps Mozart. Maybe Mozart. Dubiously Mozart. Surely not Mozart.

According to this approach, a direct answer to a hypothetive question is composed of a filling of a gap together with a type of convictional attitude towards the hypothesis proposed in a question. The third solution of the problem of the scope of the unknown in hypothetive questions is based on the intuition that hypothetive questions are in fact very similar to their completive counterparts. Consider the question (28) once again. The problem is that the negative answer to such a question, namely: (40)

No, not Mozart.

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does not satisfy the expectations of the questioner. If a hypothesis proposed in a question is false, the questioner expects it to be corrected: he expects the respondent to fill a gap accurately. So, rather the following negative answers to (28) are admissible: (41) (42)

No, not Mozart, but Salieri. No, not Mozart, but Puccini.

etc. That leads us to the conclusion that the scope of the unknown in hypothetive question is identical with the scope of the unknown of its completive counterparts − only one of the elements is especially distinguished. The problem is that the shape of the hypothetive question does not precisely determine its completive counterpart. For instance, we cannot decide which of following questions: (43) (44)

Who composed Così fan tutte? Which classical composer composed Così fan tutte?

is a completive counterpart of (28). All solutions of the problem of the scope of the unknown (and datum quaestionis) in hypothetive questions have some disadvantages and I cannot decide which one should be accepted. In what follows, I shall favor the first one. 3. Selective Questions Let me now analyze the third kind of natural language questions − i.e., selective questions − possessing some properties of completive questions and some properties of hypothetive ones. Consider the following examples: (45) (46) (47)

Was Die Zauberflöte composed by Mozart or Salieri or Haydn? Who from among Mozart, Salieri, and Haydn – composed Die Zauberflöte? Is Die Zauberflöte composed by Mozart or by somebody else?

In my opinion, (45) and (46) communicate the same inquiry. The difference is only on the surface: (45) has a structure characteristic for hypothetive questions (inversion); in (46), there occurs the operator typical for completive questions (‘who’, scil. ‘which man’). This is the reason for the fact that completive questions may be interpreted twofold. Firstly, one may consider selective questions as similar to completive questions. The only difference lies in the fact that

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the scope of the unknown is defined not by the indication of a property possessed by every element of this range but through listing all elements of it (listing their names, strictly speaking). We would say that the scope of (45) and (46) is a three-element sent {Mozart, Salieri, Haydn}. Datum quaestionis gets the following form: (48)

x (being Mozart, Salieri, or Haydn) composed Die Zauberflöte.

and in the case of (47) we have: (49)

Die Zauberflöte was composed by x (Mozart or somebody-else).

The expression ‘somebody-else’ (somebody-being-not-Mozart) should be understood as being composed of a name-creating quantifier and a variable having a scope containing all (names of) people except of Mozart (‘Mozart’). Secondly, one may characterize selective questions as questions similar rather to hypothetive questions − in particular, as questions proposing at least two rival hypotheses of how to fill a gap in a picture of situation; the person putting such a question expects one of hypotheses to be confirmed. I cannot decide which of the two proposed interpretations of selective questions is theoretically better. Perhaps it depends on the context of a question. But in my analysis of the logical form of questions (as well as in most logical theories of questions) the second interpretation (polihypothetive one) is preferred. Anyway, I claim that there is no special type of inquiries corresponding to selective questions. An inquiry communicated by a selective question is either a special type of a completive inquiry (with a gap shaped with maximal precision), or of a hypothetive inquiry (but with at least two rival hypotheses). It is possible that difficulties in the interpretation of selective questions result from the fact that those questions are relatively rare in everyday situations. They find applications first of all in tests and questionnaires where they are sometimes transformed into orders (see Chs. XIV and XV). I would like to stress that I distinguish questions of the form (47) from hypothetive questions of the form (28). I shall call questions of the type of (47) “disjunctive questions.”

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4. Interpretational Difficulties: Who-Questions In the following sections, I propose the analysis of a few kinds of natural language questions − indicating the properties of them which cause particular difficulties in logical analysis and motivate to construct idealizing formal systems of erotetic logic. The striking fact is that logicians, at the point of departure of their analysis, usually consider questions with the query ‘who?’. I suppose that the main reason here is the fact that elements of the range of such unknown questions possess individual names, and individual names are logically simple. However, the problem of “who-questions” is not as simple as it seems to be. The first difficulty is that there are questions with the query ‘who?’ in which the scope of unknown does not include all people, although there are no additional descriptions of the unknown, explicitly limiting its scope. Take the example: (50)

Who composed Fidelio?

Spontaneoulsy, we look for the object filling a gap in a picture of a situation described in (50) not among all people but only among composers. It seems that the scope of unknown is practically also delimited by the predicate occurring in a given question. Probably, when we hear a question we automatically interpret it as a whole and we mentally delimit the scope of the unknown.75 Consider another example: (51)

Who won the last Chopin Competition?

When we answer such a question we do not take into consideration all people: we concentrate only on pianists or even on the participants of the last Chopin Competition. It seems that not only the predicate occurring in the question, but also the argument of this predicate may delimit the scope of the unknown. The scope of the unknown in question: (52)

Who won the last Wieniawski Competition?

is delimited differently than in (51): here, we look for substitutions of the unknown among young violinists. Of course, both questions (51) and (52)

75

This fact is also reflected in investigations of some logicians. E.g., Jadacki (2002, Sec. 166) wrote that the range of the unknown in the question ‘Who composed Halka?’ is the class of composers.

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may be also interpreted as containing the one-argument predicate: ‘_wonthe-last-Chopin-Competition’ or ‘_won-the-last-Wieniawski-Competition’. The second difficulty concerns a problem of semiotic characteristics of elements of the scope of the unknown. Logicians assume that the scope of the unknown in “who-questions” contains the individual names of people. But linguistic intuition suggests that not only individual names may serve as correct fillers of gaps in such questions. Consider the question (51), which has the following datum quaestionis: (53)

x won the last Chopin Competition.

The substitution: (54)

Rafał Blechacz won the last Chopin Competition.

is by no means correct. But the substitution: (55)

The best from among pianists born in Nakło won the last Chopin Competition.

may raise objections. A general name substituted for ‘x’ in (55) is a singular one; its only designate is Rafał Blechacz. Rules of natural language allow substitutions like (55). It also happens that the person posing a question of the type (55) does not expect the answer in which there appears an individual name − e.g., in the situation in which the individual name means nothing to a questioner (see remarks of Hintikka 1983). When for example a violin-maker, is called to an orchestra rehearsal, asks: (56) Whose string is broken? then no one answers ‘John Smith’s’, but rather ‘of that tall violist by the third music stand’. As I mentioned in Chapter II, objects may be indicated by many different means. The questioner expects the answer which is conclusive for him, i.e., which helps him to identify the appropriate object filling a gap. The name ‘the best from among pianists born in Nakło’ is not only singular in fact, but also intentionally singular. But there are names intentionally general but in fact singular. The name ‘a pianist born on the 30th of June, 1985’ is intentionally general but it is probably singular. Is the name ‘a pianist born the 30th of June, 1985’ (that is the date of the birth of Blechacz) a correct substitution of the unknown of (52)?

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If it is, there is only one step to agree that every general name referring to a man is a correct substitution of the variable ‘x’ being the unknown corresponding to the query ‘who?’. So, also sentences: (57) (58)

[A certain] inhabitant of Nakło won last Chopin Competition. [A certain] Pole won last Chopin Competition.

It is not easy to agree to this. However, one may imagine a situation in which a person asking (51) expects the answer such as (57) or (58). These analyses show that in every day situations a great deal of details depends on particular intentions and the convictional attitudes of participants of erotetic situations. The questioned person may be more or less aware of the questioner’s intentions and expectations. The wider their common cognitive ground is, the greater chances for effective communication and satisfying the questioner’s cognitive needs are. The problem of correct substitutions of data quaestionis will be analyzed further in Chapter IX. Here, at the end, let us consider the problem of “conjunctive” substitutions of data quaestiones of “who-questions.” Take the question: (59)

Which Pole won the Chopin Competition?

and the answer: (60)

Adam Harasiewicz, Krystian Zimerman, and Rafał Blechacz won the Chopin Competition.

Is the conjunction of three individual names a correct substitution of the unknown of (59)? A natural diagnosis is that the query ‘who?’ is just ambiguous. In the basic sense, the questioner expects naming one object which fills his cognitive gap. But there are other senses of ‘who?’ in which conjunctive substitutions are possible.76 One should distinguish the pair (59)-(60) from the following one: (61) (62)

Who won the Gold Ermine during the Festival Variété in Rennes in 1967? Marek Tomaszewski and Wacław Kisielewski.

The expression ‘Marek Tomaszewski and Wacław Kisielewski’ is in (62) a name of one object: Tomaszewski and Kisielewski won this prize together, as a duo, and not, e.g., ex aequo. That is why the name ‘Marek

76

See “Historical and Polemical Comments,” at the end of this chapter, for some logical interpretations of the problem.

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Tomaszewski and Wacław Kisielewski’ is by no means a correct substitution of datum quaestionis of (61). As we see, questions with the query ‘who?’ seem to be only apparently logically simple. In what follows I show analogue difficulties concerning questions with other queries and, at the end, I will propose some general characteristics of natural language questions. 5. What-Questions Generally, questions with the query ‘what?’ arise the same objections as “who-questions” but difficulties are more glaring in this case. Let us begin with the problem of the connections between the content of tenor and a scope of unknown. Theoretically apprehending the matter, the scope of unknown corresponding to the query ‘what?’ includes (names of) all objects. Practically, the scopes are much narrower. Consider the examples: (63) (64) (65) (66)

What What What What

are you singing? are listening to? do you study? are you laughing at?

Practically, the scope of unknown in (63) contains (names of) all objects which can be sang; in (64) − objects which can be listened[-to]; in (65) − such that can be studied; in (66) − such that can be laughed-at.77 Are there any what-questions with a really unlimited range of unknown? My only candidate is the question: (67)

What are you thinking of ?

since everything (even . . . nothing) is suitable to be thought of. To consider the unknown defined by the query ‘what?’ as a variable of unlimited scope, is only a kind of an “eccentricity” of philosophers; it is the effect of our natural tendency to creating hypostases. Typical individuals belonging to the unknown connected with the query ‘what?’ are of course real, concrete objects. Places, ways (manners), activities, etc. − are only secondary objects of attribution and they are constructed by us only thanks to our capacity of using analytic categories. We ask

77

It seems that we may laugh either at people (“I laugh at a clown”) or at situations (“I laugh at the fact that the clown fell”). But the first category may be reduced to the second one.

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“where?” instead of asking “in what place?”. However, there is no analogical counterpart for the question: (68)

What are you keeping in your hand?

The problem of names which can be substituted for variables defined by the query ‘what?’ is more complicated than in the case of the query ‘who?’. First of all, only some categories of objects possess individual names: some places (as ‘Salzburg’78), some things (as ‘Hellbrunn Palace’) and some purely-intentional objects (as ‘Die Zauberflöte’). 6. Where- and When-Questions The query ‘where?’ corresponds, in its basic sense, to the unknown encompassing the set of (names of) all places.79 But also in these questions the content of the tenor delimits the scope of unknown. We answer variously to the question: (69)

Where p?

with respect to the content of ‘p’, e.g.: (70) (71) (72) (73) (74)

Where is the recording of Bach’s Prelude by Glen Gould? – In cosmic space. 80 Where did polyphony come into existence? – In Western Europe. Where was Mozart born? – In Salzburg. Where is Mozart’s house situated? – In Makartplatz. Where is the music score of Mozart’s Rondo? – In the living room.

Sometimes the “sizes” of places which are suitable fillings of gaps are determined by the context. Consider the question: (75)

Where do you live?

A person who has not see the questioner for instance twenty years understands (75) differently than the person who has not see him for a month. Moreover, the natural language scope of unknown depends also on the place in which the question is uttered. If two Polish friends meet

78

One may have doubts whether these names are names of places or rather of things. There are phrases in which we have in mind not places but institutions. For instance, in the question ‘Where do you work?’ and the answer ‘In a bank’ or ‘At the university’. 80 Gould’s recordings were sent in the cosmic space as a part of a “letter” about the human civilization − meant for representatives of other civilizations. 79

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in Salzburg after ten years of separation, then it is enough to answer (75) by saying “In Poland” or “In Sweden.” As we see, the query ‘where?’ is quite a vague one. Of course, it may be replaced by other, more precise queries such as ‘on which continent?’, ‘in which city?’, ‘in which room?’. But such expressions sound quite unnatural and we rarely use them (e.g., when the interlocutor did not understand the initial question and we are trying to explain our intentions more clearly). The query ‘when?’ leads to difficulties similar to those connected with the query ‘where?’: in this case the size of the period we are asking about depends also on the content of the tenor and on the context. Compare the following questions: (76) (77) (78) (79) (80)

When When When When When

do you start the concert? – At 7.30. does the rehearsal start? – Tomorrow morning will you finish your book? − In three months. did Fryderyk Chopin live? – In the 19th century. was polyphony created? – A few hundreds years ago.

Also in these cases we may (and sometimes we should) use more precise versions of these questions, by the use of such queries as ‘at what time?’, ‘which day?’, ‘in which century?’, etc. As in the case of the “wherequestions” the scope of the unknown depends also on the time in which one puts the question. A freshly graduated pianist understands the question: (81)

Where did you finish conservatory?

differently than a person who graduated many years ago. 7. Which-Question In the previous examples I often used the particle ‘which?’ in paraphrases of other queries, since, as I already have mentioned, it is the most universal question-operator in English. But we have to remember that this particle is also used as a query in questions about cardinal number. (82)

Which edition of the Chopin Competition took place in 2005? The fifteenth.

The query ‘which?’, in its broader sense, seems to be the most widespread query and may substitute (together with additional

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expressions) many other queries. The reason is probably in the fact that the expression ‘which’ has very good grammatical connectivity. The query ‘which?’ is especially ambiguous when it is combined with plural nouns. Consider questions: (83) (84)

Which Pole is an opera composer? Which Poles are opera composers?

The person asking (83) may expect the answer mentioning one Polish composer of operas or all persons being both Poles and composers of operas. The ambiguity of (84) is even stronger. The questioner may ask for listing any (at least two) Poles, several exemplary Poles or all Poles which are opera composers. Ambiguity and vagueness of queries was the point of departure of making precise formal paraphrases of questions.81 8. Why-Questions “Why-questions” are burdened with a special kind of ambiguity. Datum quaestionis of a question: (85)

Why p?

reads: (86)

p because q.

or: (87)

The reason for (resp. the cause of) the fact that p is the fact that q.

Consider the example: (88)

Why did Fryderyk Chopin go to Paris?

When we ask “why?”, we ask for reasons or causes. The scope of the variable ‘q’ should include all sentences referring to states of affairs which may serve as reasons or causes. But it seems that the unknown corresponding to the query in (88) contains only those sentences which may serve as reasons or causes of the fact that Chopin went to Paris. Let us compare (88) to: (89) (90) 81

Why does every string produce a higher tone after shortening? Why are accordions classified as idiophones?

See “Historical and Polemic Comments,” put in the end of this chapter.

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It seems to me that the scope of the unknown in each of these questions is different and determined by the content of tenors of these questions. It is another testimony of the dependency between the range of unknown and the content of a tenor in natural language. 9. Troubles with Hypothetive Questions 9.1. Variety of Hypotheses Generalizing, my conception of hypothetive questions is composed of the following theses: (a) (b) (c)

every hypothetive question is correlated to a certain completive question; completive questions are poorer with respect to sense than their hypothetive counterparts: a hypothetive question, besides the will of filling a gap, presents a hypothesis of how to fill it; in typical situations the questioner expects confirmation of the proposed hypothesis.

I do not claim that there are no whether-questions which concern the whole situation and in which no part is hypothetically emphasized. But I am convinced that such questions practically do not occur in natural language: all whether-questions put in typical communicative situations emphasize one element as a hypothetic one. I just cannot give a natural example of a whether-question, put seriously, and concerning a whole pictured situation. I may only agree that questions concerning the whole situation may occur in totally a-pragmatic situations (their completive counterparts sound: ‘What is happening?’ or ‘What is a fact?’). But the problem requires more detailed explanation and more detailed comments. At first, let me stress that hypothetic filling may concern various elements of a “gapped” picture of situation. Queries in hypothetive questions (as well as in completive questions) may possess various semantic categories. Consider the following variants: (91)

(92)

Did Fryderyk Chopin compose Revolutionary Étude, because he was strongly moved by the fact that he did not participate in the November Insurrection? Did Fryderyk Chopin compose Revolutionary Étude, because he was strongly moved by the fact that he did not participate in the November Insurrection?

146 (93) (94) (95) (96) (97) (98)

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Did Fryderyk Chopin compose Revolutionary Étude, because he was strongly moved by the fact that he did not participated in the November Insurrection? Did Fryderyk Chopin compose Revolutionary Étude, because he was strongly moved by the fact that he did not participate in the November Insurrection? Did Fryderyk Chopin compose Revolutionary Étude, because he was strongly moved by the fact that he did not participated in the November Insurrection? Did Fryderyk Chopin compose Revolutionary Étude, because he was strongly moved by the fact that he did not participated in the November Insurrection? Did Fryderyk Chopin compose Revolutionary Étude, because he was strongly moved by the fact that he did not participate in the November Insurrection? Did Fryderyk Chopin compose Revolutionary Étude, because he was strongly moved by the fact that he did not participate in the November Insurrection?

In examples (97) and (98) the hypothesis concerns whole situations but these situations are only parts of the main (composed) situation to which (97)-(98) refer. The basic presentation of questions (97) and (98) is a picture of a situation composed of two more elementary situations connected by the relation of conditioning. In the case of (97) the first argument is filled only hypothetically; in the case of (98) − hypothesis concerns the second argument. 9.2. Questions Concerning Whole Situations Of course not everybody agrees with my interpretation of whetherquestions. Since my thesis is general (I claim that all hypothetive questions possess an emphasized, hypothetic part), the onus probandi is on my opponents: they should indicate a question (together with the context in which it appears) in which no component is hypothetically emphasized. Let the first example be the question: (99)

Is it thundering?

At first glance, it seems that in (99) the hypothesis concerns the picture of a situation taken as a whole: this picture is expressed in (99) by the unanalyzable phrase (‘It is thundering’). But let us notice that the sentence ‘It is thundering’, as well as the question (99), is obviously

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elliptic. The person posing the question (99) asks whether it is thundering in a certain time and place (usually − here and now). If we agree to that, it turns out that the time and place are established elements of pictured situation; only thundering is − colloquially speaking − hypothetical. Omitting implicit components of a question (which are obvious in a given context) is a kind of distinguishing a hypothesis. Let us analyze another example: (100) Did you do your military service? 82 According to supporters of the non-hypothetive interpretation of this question − there is no component distinguished here: the questioner wants to know whether the situation in question − as a whole − took place. In fact, when a potential prospective employer asks John “Did you do your military service?” − a naturally accented part is the predicate (‘do’) − he could also ask shortly: “Military service − done?”. A completive counterpart of such a question (with an accent on ‘do’) is: ‘What is your relation to military service?’. But it is only the most typical situation. One may imagine circumstances in which the accented part of (100) is, e.g., ‘military’. For instance, John mentions that he learnt a lot during the service. In such a situation, one may pose (100) emphasizing the word ‘military’ − or pose a question such as “What kind of service did you do? A military one?”. 9.3. Hypothetive Questions and Amphibolies According to the supporters of a traditional analysis of whetherquestions, it is not the case that these questions are amphibological if none of their components are emphasized. For instance, a question such as: (101) Will it be raining tomorrow? does not motivate the respondent to investigate, which element of the situation is hypothetic. We do not investigate: “Do you mean: whether it will be raining (rather than snowing) tomorrow, or whether it will be raining tomorrow (rather than today or any other day)?”. This objection may be removed as follows. First of all, amphibological expressions (not only questions) very rarely motivate receivers to investigate what is their appropriate interpretation (unless the receiver is a pedantic logician . . . ). Usually the context of an amphibological expression imposes only one interpretation of syntactical ambiguity. In 82

The example was given by dr Justyna Grudzińska.

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fact, there are situations when such investigations are needless. Probably, in the most natural context of (101), the emphasized part of the questions is ‘raining tomorrow’ (as a whole). But one can imagine a situation in which the emphasis falls only to ‘raining’ (e.g., “today it is frosty but one predicts a warmer whether; today it is snowing − if it will be raining tomorrow, the roads can be slippery!”) or only to ‘tomorrow’ (“we are listening to a weather forecast and we could not hear if the rain is going to appear tomorrow or the other day”). Generally, I agree that for many questions-types (taken without any emphasis) one may indicate one structural component which is emphasized most often, in most natural situations. But it does not mean that in less typical situations other components of a given question cannot be hypothetic ones. The fact that one interpretation of an amphibological expression is more imposing than other does not mean that this expression is not amphibological at all. 9.4. Hypothetive Questions, Sentential Connectives, and Modalities Hypothetive interpretation of whether-questions cause some difficulties in analysis of questions with extensional connectives and with modal expressions. Let us analyze the following examples: (102) Does Wolfgang respect Constanze and love her? (103) Does Wolfgang respect Conztanze if and only if she cooks good dinners for him? In my opinion, these questions can be easily analyzed in my “hypothetive” approach. Firstly, questions (102) and (103) are also correlated to some completive questions, namely: (104) What is the relation between [the state of affairs] that Wolfgang respects Constanze and [the state of affairs] that he loves her? (105) What is the relation between [the state of affairs] that Wolfgang respects Constanze and [the state of affairs] that she cooks good dinners for him? Questions (102)-(103), besides the will of knowing what is the relation between these two situations (which is communicated also in [104] and [105]), present hypotheses of what exactly this relation is. In (102) the hypothesis says that it is a relation of (simple) occurrence. In (103) − that it is a relation of mutual implication (scil. equivalence). I have to confess that I am not able to explicate what is the sense of the question:

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(106) Does Wolfgang like Constanze or love her? I do not know what is meaning of the word ‘or’ if it is to be interpreted as alternative in classical sentential calculus. But I am convinced that the reason of this problem is a formal idealization of natural language. If the word ‘or’ is interpreted in (106) as exclusion, then no problem arises: the hypothesis says that this two situations are mutually exclusive. The situation is similar in the case of questions with modalities. Consider the example: (107) Is it possible that Wolfgang married Constanze? Firstly, let us find a correct completive counterpart of (107). In my opinion, it is a question of the form: (108) What is the ontological status of [the state of affairs] that Wolfgang married Constanze? In (107), besides the will of knowing what this status is, one presents a hypothesis that it is a possibility. Other analogical hypothetive questions being counterparts of (108) are: (109) Is it necessary that Wolfgang married Constanze? (110) Is it impossible that Wolfgang married Constanze? (111) Is it actual that Wolfgang married Constanze? But of course such a question as (108) may only be seriously put by a philosopher who is especially interested in modalities. It is less probable that such questions may be put by the man in the street. More difficulties arise when we analyze hypothetive questions where conjunction is a name-creating functor. If a copula ‘and’ occurs between names, it can be interpreted twofold. In the question: (112) Were Wolfgang and Constanze musicians? ‘and’ has a sense of sentential connective: we ask whether the property of being-a-musician is a property of both Wolfgang and Constanze, so we ask whether two states of affairs coexist. But let us analyze another example: (113) Are Wolfgang and Nannerl playing a concerto? In the first interpretation of (113), ‘and’ is a sentential connective. (Wolfgang may play in the count’s palace, Nannerl − independently but at the same time − in the archbishop’s palace.) In the second interpretation, (113) may be paraphrased to:

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(114) Is Wolfgang playing a concerto with Nannerl? where ‘and’ means the same as ‘with’; ‘with’ is here an essential part of the predicate ‘play-with’ and the emphasis of ‘and’/‘with’ cannot occur. But there are some occurrences of the copula ‘and’ in which ‘and’ can be really interpreted as a name-creating functor. Consider the question: (115) Did Wolfgang eat a plum and a cake? In one of possible interpretations, the name ‘a plum and a cake’ refers to a certain whole which was (presumably) eaten by Wolfgang. What is a completive counterpart of (115)? Unfortunately, it sounds quite unnatural: (116) What is the relation between a plum and a cake in Wolfgang’s act of eating? Another hypothetive question correlated to (115) sounds: (117) Did Wolfgang eat a plum in a cake? Agree that to eat a plum in a cake is something different from eating a plum and a cake. Let us finally consider the question with ‘and’ between two predicates: (118) Did Salieri respect and admired Mozart? The most imposing interpretation is a sentential one: ‘and’ is a sentential connective. But the interpretation in which ‘and’ creates a predicate composed of two simpler predicates is also acceptable. A completive counterpart of (118) is again quite complicated: (119) What is the relation between respect and admiration in what Salieri and Mozart connects? The hypothesis contained in (118) says that it is a relation of coexistence. 10. The Scope of Unknown and Semantic Directives One may clearly see, on the basis of the examples analyzed, that the real scope of unknown is defined not only by a query, but also by other expressions occurring in a question. It seems that this dependency may be explicated, at least to some degree, by the concept of semantic directives. Let us consider (51) once again. Assume that among the semantic directives of English language there is a directive saying that the Chopin

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Competition is a piano competition and that only pianists may participate in piano competitions; thus only a pianist may win the Chopin Competition. That is why a competent user of English “automatically” includes only pianists into the range of unknown. Let us now notice that we neither ask: (120) Who from among people won last Chopin Competition? nor: (121) Who among pianists won Chopin Competition? It is natural that a gap in a picture of situation concerning the relation of winning and the Chopin Competition may be filled only by a human being and only by a pianist. The question: (122) Who from among all Poles won the last Chopin Competition? is much more natural − since not only Poles can win Chopin Competition. We are inclined to add some expressions to the basic query only if we want to define a narrower scope of the unknown than it results from definitions of terms occurring in the tenor. 11. Precision of Natural Language Questions The conclusion of the presented analysis of natural language questions − of course, only a fragmentary analysis − may be expressed as follows: questions, and especially queries which occur in questions essentially, are ambiguous and vague. Queries are ambiguous, because in different contexts they delimit different scopes of unknowns. They are vague, because scopes of unknowns are delimited imprecisely: sometimes we cannot decide which expressions may fill a given gap correctly. It is understandable that a logician cannot ignore these facts. The majority of authors of logical erotetic systems aimed at removing these semiotic defects. From the point of view of logical standards, effective communication in natural language is a certain communicational miracle. How can it happen that people may efficiently communicate despite all these vices of natural language expressions? The problem also concerns questions. Both the queries and tenors of natural language questions do not possess precise meanings. Despite this fact, people communicate their investigations by them without any special difficulty and receive answers which usually fulfill their cognitive needs. Eventual misunderstandings

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can be easily explained − e.g., through secondary question (see Chapter IX). But there are situations in which precise formulation of questions is of a special importance: the correct interpretation of such questions cannot only be a matter of the respondent’s “insight.” I have in mind especially questionnaires and tests (see Chapters XIV and XV). When we are trying to refine a question, we should pay special attention to the appropriate limitation of the scope of the unknown. If we are interested only in Polish composers of mazurkas, then we do not ask: (123) Who composed mazurkas? but (124) Which Poles composed mazurkas? But there is no need to ask: (125) Which composer composed mazurkas? as the range is limited to composers by the predicate ‘to compose’. By formulating hypothetive questions one should check if it is clear which part of the picture of situation is filled only hypothetically. Eroteticians also attach a great importance to some other aspects of questions. To illustrate the problem, let us analyze the following dialogue: (126) A: B: A: B: A: B: A: B:

Whose compositions do you like to listen to? Chopin’s compositions. Only Chopin’s ones? No, also Juliusz Zarębski’s and Karol Szymanowski’s. Anyone’s else? Yes, also Roman Maciejewski’s. No one else? No one else.

The questioner wanted the respondent to name not only one composer appreciated by him but all such composers. Moreover, the questioner wanted to fulfill his cognitive gap very precisely. Some logical theories of questions provide tools of defining the expected precision of a gapfiller. The problem is that it cannot be done “naturally” in natural language. Questions such as: (127) Do you like to listen to compositions of which all composers? (128) Which are all composers such that you like to listen to their compositions?

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are grammatically incorrect and sound badly even in conversational speech. Logicians make questions more precise by translating them to previously constructed formal languages. The problem is that we can use neither formal language in sociological questionnaires nor in a test for pupils of primary school. Thus, if we want to use natural language but at the same time to ask precisely, there are two ways of doing so. Firstly, we may replace questions with orders. A surprising fact is that orders can be formulated much more precisely than questions while still sounding natural. Let us look at the example of an imperative expressing the intentions of the question of (127): (129) List all composers whose compositions you like to listen to. Let me emphasize once again that precision is a desired property of questions only from some points of view. There are erotetic situations in which ambiguity and vagueness are desired property of questions. It happens, e.g., in psychological interviews. I shall return to this problem in Chapter XIV. HISTORICAL AND POLEMICAL COMMENTS A. Terminology. I am obliged to explain why I introduce terms ‘completive’, ‘hypothetive’, and ‘selective questions’ into erotetic terminology despite the fact there are some widespread terms referring to concepts similar to the ones explicated by me. One may say that instead of my terms − I could use the very well rooted terms ‘variable question’, ‘polar question’, and ‘alternative question’. Let me explain my terminological decisions as follows. My main aim was to make erotetic terminology fulfill the criteria of terminological correctness (at least to a possible higher degree). In my opinion, especially the terms ‘variable question’ and ‘polar question’ do not reflect concepts to which they refer and thus they do not fulfill one of important criteria of terminological correctness (criterion of adequacy). One may say the same about terms such as ‘yes-no-question’, or (in German) ‘Satzfrage’. In my conception, I chose terms of Latin roots which made them easier to translate into any ethnic language (one cannot do the same with terms ‘why-question’ or ‘whether-question’). I also chose uniformed terms (with uniform endings) in order to make erotetic terminology fulfill the criterion of uniformity.

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In the description of the components of questions, I make use of a conceptual scheme of the Polish erotetic tradition, especially to Ajdukiewicz’s tradition. I borrow from him the concept of datum quaestionis and of the unknown. We read in Ajdukiewicz: The person who has understood an interrogative sentence may still not know what the true answer is, but he already knows its formulation to some extent; for instance, he realizes that the true answer to the question ‘Who discovered America?’ will be in the form of the sentential schema ‘x discovered America’, which is unambiguously indicated by the interrogative sentence itself. ([1965] 1974, p. 87)

But one has to keep in mind that the terminological conventions proposed by Ajdukiewicz in his early works (especially in his dissertation published in 1926) are a little bit different. I borrow the terms ‘query’ (Polish: ‘pytajnik’) and ‘tenor’ (Polish: ‘osnowa’) − together with the senses ascribed to them − from Jadacki (2003); these terms are sometimes used by other authors (in various senses). B. The Concept of Datum Quaestionis. Ajdukiewicz characterizes datum quaestionis as the scheme of an answer correlated intuitively to every question. If this characterization had a definitional character, the concept of datum quaestionis would be characterized by the concept of answer. In my opinion this is not a convenient resolution. (By the way, Koj was convinced that concepts of question and answer are mutually definable and he did not see anything wrong with this fact.) In order to avoid the problem − one may characterize datum quaestionis syntactically, as a scheme obtained by appropriate transformations of a question. We would have the following conceptual dependencies: Question − an expression communicating the will of filling a gap in the picture of situation (a functional definition). Query − a part of question indicating the gap in the picture of the respective situation (a structural-functional definition). Tenor − a part of question obtained by removing the query (a structural definition). Unknown − a variable such that its category and range is determined by the query. Datum quaestionis − a scheme composed of the unknown and the tenor (a structural definition). In this approach, the concept of answer is not a component of any concept connected to the structure of the question.

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Let me add that the concept of the scope of unknown may be understood either really (as a set of objects such that their names can occur the answer) or nominally (as the set of names as such). A real approach is proposed by Sobiecki (1996) and Jadacki (2002); the nominal one is proposed by Giedymin (1964). Jadacki and Horecka (2004) mention some difficulties with interpretation of the concepts of question, datum quaestionis and presupposition. C. Defining the Range of Unknown. Ajdukiewicz ([1938] 1978), and his followers Cackowski (1964), Świdziński (1976), and Jadacki (2003), include additional descriptions into a query, e.g.: the query ‘who from among Poles?’ defines narrower scope of unknown than the query ‘who?’. Also Carnap claims that the occurrence of the so-called “universal words” in questions delimits their scope: The use of universal words in questions connected with one of the w . . . interrogatives (‘what’, ‘who’, ‘where’, ‘which’, etc.) is akin to their use in universal and existential sentences. Here also, in translation into a symbolic language, the universal word determines the choice of the kind of variable. [. . .] In a symbolic question, the genus of the argument requested is determined by the kind of the kind of the argument variables. In the word-languages this genus is indicated by means either of a specific w . . . interrogatives (such as ‘who’, ‘where’, ‘when’) or of an unspecific w . . . interrogative (such as ‘what’, ‘which’) with an auxiliary universal word. Hence here also the universal word is, so to speak, an index to a variable. ([1934] 1964, p. 296)

The fact that the scope of unknown is limited by the content of predicate occurring in a question is something obvious for linguists, who are used to calling the activity of establishing the scope of the argument of predicate − “establishing lexical presuppositions.” See, e.g., analyses of Grzegorczykowa (1995, pp. 104-119, 166-171). Also Kwiatkowski − a logician − proposed such an analysis. He writes: The scope of unknown of a question [. . .] is a set of all expressions such that their substitution for the unknown is consistent with the sense of a question. [. . .] The two-year old Columbus does not belong to the scope of the unknown [of the question ‘Who discovered America?’] since it is enough to understand this question to refuse the sentence ‘Two-year old Columbus discovered America’ as a possible answer to this question. (2003, p. 140)

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D. Polish Scheme. It is worth noting that by a little idealization one may treat datum quaestionis as something “built into” a question (not obtained by a transformation). Let us consider queries ‘who?’, ‘where?’, and ‘what?’. All these queries may be treated as possessing shortened forms; in the full form they have the form: ‘which person?’, ‘[in] which place?’, ‘[at] what time?’. Expressions ‘person’, ‘place’, and ‘time’ play in these contexts the role of natural language variables with limited scopes (see Chapter IV). In this interpretation, the question ‘Who was born in Żelazowa Wola’ may be expressed as follows: ‘For which x (being a person) (x was born in Żelazowa Wola)’. Ajdukiewicz proposed just such analysis already in (1926): Every question may be expressed by one scheme if we agree to use the variable explicitly; e.g., the question ‘Who likes Peter’ − may be expressed by ‘?x [x likes Peter]’; in words: ‘For which x, x likes Peter’; the question ‘Whom does John like?’ may be expressed by ‘?x [John likes x]’, etc. Various question particles are useless since a clear use of a variable on the appropriate place indicates both its possible values and the position occupied by it. (p. 195a)

In erotetic literature it is often claimed that the first author who proposed such a scheme was Carnap (in [1934] 1964); see, e.g., Hamblin (1967, p. 49). Such a scheme of questions − interpreted as a whole composed of a query and sentential function − was used forty years after Ajdukiewicz by Kubiński, who constructed one of the first developed logical theory of questions. As Wojtysiak (2009) notices, it is worth to call this scheme “a Polish scheme” or “Ajdukiewicz-Kubiński scheme.” A similar analysis of the structure of questions is proposed in the frame of linguistic thematic-rhematic analysis, where the query is identified with theme, and the tenor is identified with the rhemat of an interrogative sentence. See, e.g., Bogusławski (1977) and Danielewiczowa (1996). E. Traditional Analysis of the Structure of Whether-Questions. Traditional analysis of whether-questions runs as follows. One assumes that these questions are composed of a whole sentence and something which signalises the interrogative character of expression (in English it is inversion). For example, the tenor of the question ‘Did Henryk Wieniawski played with his brother?’ is a sentence ‘Henryk Wieniawski played with his brother’. It is assumed that the role of datum quaestionis in these sentences is played by the sentential scheme of the form “f Henryk Wieniawski played with his brother”; the variable ‘f ’ may be

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substituted only twofold: ‘It is the case that’ or ‘It is not the case that’. See Ajdukiewicz ([1965] 1974, p. 88) and Jadacki (2002, §170). The analysis of whether-questions as hypothetive questions keeps away from these solutions. F. Hypothetive Interpretation of Whether-Questions. Logicians often analyzing the sense of question in the prism of the set of answers correlated to them, notice that one question of the form ‘Does p?’ (or similar) possesses several sets of direct answers; they emphasize that especially the answer ‘no’ is ambiguous and its sense depends of which part of the question is negated. See, e.g., Koj (1972, p. 33) and Wiśniewski (1989, p. 36). The approaches most similar to my proposals are offered by Bäurle, Kiefer, and Zuber. Zuber writes: The general (yes-no) question Q: ‘Is it true that . . . ?’ is presuppositionally ambiguous: Q(S is P) can have either S or P as “argument,” In the former case one presupposes “Something has the property P” and one asks if this given property P is a property of S. In the latter case one presupposes “S has some property” and one asks in the given object S has also a property P. It is not possible to ask both in the same question. (1972, p. 133)

Bäurle’s general view reads as follows: My thesis therefore is that the difference between wh-questions, alternative questions and yes/no-questions is solely the matter of scope. As far as types are concerned, every type of question is represented in all three categories: When does he arrive? Does he arrive tomorrow or the day after tomorrow? (= when does he arrive, tomorrow or the day after tomorrow? Does he arrive tomorrow? (= when does he arrive, tomorrow?) (1979, p. 70)

One of Bäurle’s arguments for interpreting whether-questions as strict counterparts of completive (variable) questions is the phenomenon of mixed questions such as: Who has eaten the pudding, Mary? What has Mary eating, pudding? Bäurle adds:

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If we take writing as the basis of observations, both these questions translated into one and the same “normal form” of yes/no questions: Has Mary eaten the pudding? But in spoken language we have a difference in intonation: Has Mary eaten the pudding? Has Mary eaten the pudding? Thus the simple surface form: Have you eaten the pudding? may be about who has eaten the pudding, it may be about what you have eaten and it may be about of what has happened to the pudding. Quite similar to wh-questions and scope-restricted alternative questions, what is asked for is the specifying of an element of a certain category. (p. 72)

Similar ideas are be found by Kiefer: Consider the questions: (a) (b) (c)

In John leaving for Stockholm tomorrow? Is John leaving for Stockholm tomorrow? Is John leaving for Stockholm tomorrow?

where the underlining indicated the focused part of the sentence. [. . .] In (a) it is taken for granted that John is going to Stockholm, this is not part of the question. [In the case of (b) [. . .] the speaker takes for granted that John is leaving tomorrow and he want to know where John is going to leave. Notice that positive answers to [. . .] questions (a)-(c) lead to identical results. In the case of negative answers, however, essential differences emerge. This, a negative answer to (a) may mean that he addressee thinks that the proposition ‘John is going to leave for Stockholm tomorrow’ is false and a negative answer to (c) may mean that the hearer accepts the proposition ‘somebody is going to Stockholm tomorrow’ as being true and denies the proposition “the person who is going to leave for Stockholm tomorrow is John.” (1980, p. 13)

Let me stress some important differences between my approach to hypothetive questions and Kiefer’s interpretation of them: (a) (b)

Kiefer is convinced that only some whether (yes-no) questions are focused. My claim is that all of them (asked in everyday situations) possesses an emphasized element; Kiefer interprets focus as a strictly pragmatic phenomenon; in my opinion it is a semantic phenomenon and something more than simple context-dependence.

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The influence of emphasis to the content of whether-questions was also noticed by Daubert. Moreover, he located the difference between two whether-questions with different emphases not on communcation (not logical) level. Schumann & Smith report: Consider, for example, the questions ‘Is Mulligan ready?’ and ‘Is Mulligan ready?’. The logical content of these two questions is identical. On being addressed, however, they function in entirely different ways. The first presupposes a sort of communication in which Mulligan is talked about and where it is questionable whether he is ready. The second, in contrast, presupposes the situation: someone is ready; what is questionable is whether it is Mulligan. Emphasis can thereby effect a psychological transformation, an adjustment of our expectations which enables the cognitive or inquisitive interest “to be sustained even through far-flung connections.” [. . .] The course of inquiry can itself be seen as a sequence of transformations of this sort, leading from one emphasized figure to the next in such a way that each is successively submerged into the domain of what is taken for granted, so that long-range interests are permitted to govern the process as a whole. (1987, p. 378)

G. The Class of Contrast. While analyzing ambiguity of hypothetive questions, it is impossible to ignore Van Fraassen’s conception of causal questions (why-questions). According to Van Fraassen (1980, pp. 126-129), in analysis of questions such as ‘Why did Chopin go to Paris?’ one has to take into considerations three elements: a subject, a contrast class and an essential relation. A subject (of a question) is a sentence stating the occurrence of the fact which requires explanation: in our case it is the fact that Chopin went to Paris. Possessing the same subject or even being-composed-of-the-same-expressions is not, according to Van Fraassen, a criterion of identity of causal questions. It may happen that two causal questions − having the same subjects − have two different classes of contrast or different essential relations. As far as I understand, Van Fraassen was convinced that we never ask for explanation of the whole situation, but only of some element of it, e.g.: ‘Why did Chopin go to Paris?’ (and not Konstancja Gładkowska); ‘Why did Chopin go to Paris?’ (and not to London). We expect explanations of some elements of the situations: these elements which seem to be surprising or at least these elements which could be other than they are. ‘Gładkowska could go to Paris. So why did Chopin go? Chopin could go to London. So why did he go to Paris?’ The class of contrast indicates this element of a situation which requires explanation: it consists of the subjects and its alternatives, i.e., of sentences which state the occurrence of those states of affairs which could occur, however did not occur.

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Questions possessing the same subject and the same class of contrast may still differ with respect to the essential relation. In order to explain this concept, let me appeal to an example taken from a school test. Niemierko (1975, p. 82) mentions that majority of 9-year old pupils, asked “Why do some fish eat the meat of precious corral?” − answer: “Because they are hungry.” Such an answer is a true one, but it was not the answer expected by the teacher. The essential relation is a relation between pairs composed of the question and its class of contrast and the class of sentence which are suitable as a direct answer to this question in a given cognitive context (see also Grobler 2006, pp. 113-120). However, the emphasis on the part of a tenor in a causal question is not a strict analogue of emphasis on hypothetic component in hypothetive questions. In my opinion, it is a certain logical interpretation of thematico-rhematic structure of sentences (here: explained sentences). But in order to analyze the concept of hypothetive question with reference to Van Fraassen’s tools, one may use an appropriately modified concept of class of contrast. H. Classification of Questions. The most popular classification of questions divides the set of questions into two sets. It is already mentioned by Leibniz: There are indeed “themes” which can be said to be midway between an idea and a proposition, namely questions. Some of these are asked only for a Yes or a No, and these are closest to propositions.; but there are others which ask how, and ask for details, and so on, and more must be added to these if they are to become propositions. ([1704] 1996, p. 365)

Two hundreds years later Frege wrote: In a word-question we utter an incomplete sentence, which is meant to be given a true sense just by means of the competition for which we are asking. [. . .] Propositional questions are a different matter. We expect to hear ‘yes’ or ‘no’. The answer ‘yes’ means the same as assertoric sentence, for in saying ‘yes’ the speaker presents as true the thought that was already completely contained in the interrogative sentence. This is how a propositional sentence can be formed from assertoric sentences. ([1918] 2006, p. 329)

The history of the concept of question is presented by Struyken Boudier (1988). I. Disjunctive Questions. The third group of questions (selective ones) was distinguished relatively late: in the middle of the 20th century. These

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questions appear in erotetic conceptions proposed by Prior and Prior (1955), Harrah (1963), and Kubiński (1970a). Not all theorists of questions agree that there is a difference between hypothetive and disjunctive questions. One of supporters of that view is Magdalena Danielewiczowa, who claims that, e.g., the question ‘Was Fryderyk Chopin a composer?’ has a different sense than, e.g., the question ‘Was Fryderyk Chopin a composer, or not?’. According to her, these questions cannot be synonymous, because the situations in which these questions are posed, are described in different ways: Peter asked Maria, whether she comes back to work after maternity leave or not − since he considered both possibilities. * Peter asked Maria, whether she comes back to work after maternity leave − since he considered both possibilities. It does not matter, whether Jan comes, or not. It will be fun independent of it. * It does not matter, whether Jan comes. It will be fun independent of it. (1996, pp. 73-74)

Sentences marked by ‘*’ are semantically incorrect (see also Bolinger 1978a). It is surprising that as far back as Aristotle, the difference between hypothetive and disjunctive question was noticed. In Topics we read: A problem is different from a premise in its form. For stated this way: ‘Is it the case that a two-footed terrestrial animal is the definition of man?’ or ‘Is it the case that animal is the genus of man?’ it is a premise; but stated in this way: ‘Whether a two-footed terrestrial animal is the definition of man or not’, it becomes a problem (and similarly in other cases). (101b, 28-37)

J. Logical Therapy. I shall use the term ‘interrogatives’ with reference to expressions of formal languages intended as formal counterparts of natural language questions. Logicians usually warn against identifying expressions of formal languages with some natural language expressions or at least they assume that the relation between formal expressions and natural language expressions is not a one-to-one relation. One ambiguous natural language question is sometimes assigned with many interrogatives; it also happens that there is no natural language question which is a counterpart to a given formal interrogative. One of the aims of creating formal erotetic systems is to get rid of semiotic defects, especially of the ambiguity of questions. The basic − and strictly erotetic − problem lies in the ambiguity of queries: in the process of translation to formal language, ambiguous questions should

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become more precise, in particular they should define the scope of unknown more precisely. Let me show, by means of a few examples, how this aim is realized. But let me make it clear that I use refined and complicated systems of Kubiński, Belnap, and Wiśniewski only as instruments: I consider only small fragments of their theories in order to illustrate ways of making precise questions by formal paraphrases. Kubiński reconstructs the logical form of a question as a scheme composed of question-operator and a sentential function with at least one variable (1966a; 1966b; 1967a; 1967b; 1969; the results synthetized in 1970a). The problem of précision of sentential function is not of erotetic character: it is a problem of general semiotics. That is why Kubiński concentrates on operators. In Kubiński, every question operator consists of a constant and a variable or variables of any scope. Kubiński introduces many various types of operators which are to precise vague natural language expressions. I shall concentrate on simple interrogatives, in particular numerical questions. Kubiński expresses a conviction that when we put, e.g., a question: ‘Who created a formal theory of questions?’, then the gap in the picture of situation, to which this question refers, may be made precise with respect of the number of objects “located in” the gap. Also expectations of the way of filling a gap may be of various kinds. Let us list some quasi-natural-language “versions” of this question: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5)

Which all people created logical theory of questions? Which one man created logical theory of questions? Which exactly two people created logical theory of questions? Which all at least three people created logical theory of questions? Which all, more than four, people created logical theory of questions?

Kubiński introduces symbols of operators as counterparts of expressions ‘which all?’, ‘which one?’, ‘which exactly two?’, etc. In general, we have the following formal expressions: (6) (7) (8) (9) (10)

Which all x’s are such that Px?: Cx i (Pxi); For which one x it is the case that Px?: 1x (Px); For which all exactly two x’s it is the case that Px?: (2)xi (Pxi); For which all at least three x’s it is a case that Px?: (3≤)xi (Pxi); For which all, more than four x’s it is the case that Px?: (4