the limits of semiotics

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The Limits of Semiotics The Limits of Interpretation by Umberto Eco Review by: Patrick Colm Hogan Diacritics, Vol. 23, No. 4 (Winter, 1993), pp. 82-92 Published by: The Johns Hopkins University Press Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/465309 . Accessed: 08/12/2014 09:17 Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of the Terms & Conditions of Use, available at . http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp . JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range of content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new forms of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact [email protected]. . The Johns Hopkins University Press is collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve and extend access to Diacritics. http://www.jstor.org This content downloaded from 128.235.251.160 on Mon, 8 Dec 2014 09:17:56 AM All use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions

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Page 1: The Limits of Semiotics

The Limits of SemioticsThe Limits of Interpretation by Umberto EcoReview by: Patrick Colm HoganDiacritics, Vol. 23, No. 4 (Winter, 1993), pp. 82-92Published by: The Johns Hopkins University PressStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/465309 .

Accessed: 08/12/2014 09:17

Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of the Terms & Conditions of Use, available at .http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp

.JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range ofcontent in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new formsof scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact [email protected].

.

The Johns Hopkins University Press is collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve and extend access toDiacritics.

http://www.jstor.org

This content downloaded from 128.235.251.160 on Mon, 8 Dec 2014 09:17:56 AMAll use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions

Page 2: The Limits of Semiotics

THE LIMITS OF SEMIOTICS

PATRICK COLM HOGAN

Umberto Eco. THE LIMITS OF INTERPRETATION. Bloomington: Indiana UP, 1990.

We may somewhat arbitrarily divide the field of semiotics into the formally oriented and the psychoanalytically oriented, that which is more closely allied with linguistics or cognitive science and that which is more influenced by affective psychology. Within the former group, Umberto Eco is certainly one of the most important and influential figures writing today. Any new work by Eco that aims to advance formal and linguistic concerns in literary and other interpretation is significant. And The Limits of Interpretation is no exception. It is a careful and challenging collection of essays that broach topics rarely considered with any seriousness by literary theorists.

It is no secret that literary theory has recently been dominated by continental philosophical thought along with psychoanalysis. Many of the linguistic presuppositions that underlie the most influential schools of continental philosophy have been powerfully criticized and arguably discredited by linguistic work in this country. Many psychoana- lytic doctrines and methods have been cast in serious doubt, as well, by critiques such as that of Adolf Grunbaum [see Foundations]. Nonetheless, recent work in cognitive science, as well as most of Anglo-American philosophy, is widely ignored or grossly misrepresented in literary theory. I might illustrate this with an anecdote. Recently, an acquaintance of mine submitted a book manuscript to a major university press. The book dealt with meaning and interpretation and involved extended explications and criticisms of work by Quine, Kuhn, Dummett, Kripke, Wittgenstein (as understood in the Analytic tradition), Katz, and Chomsky; it also involved briefer reference to Jackendoff, Fodor, Anscombe, Geach, Frege, Putnam, Searle, J. Holland, Holyoak, Nisbett, Thagard, Grice, and Strawson. Anyone familiar with recent developments in cognitive science and Anglo-American philosophy of language would immediately recognize these as top names in the study of meaning. The referee for the press praised the book highly for its clarity, rigor, and insight, but he or she had one crucial objection: the author never discussed the "major figures" writing on meaning and interpretation-an astounding assertion. Perhaps the work was indeed too biased in favor of Anglo-American thought. Perhaps the author should have included a discussion of Derrida, for example. But that is beside the point.- Chomsky, Quine, Kripke, et al. are indisputably major figures in linguistics and the philosophy of language, yet this referee-like most writers in literary theory-could not even conceive of granting them this status. For comparison, imagine the reverse. Imagine a manuscript on language, meaning, and interpretation that treated Derrida, Deleuze, Lyotard, and Lacan but not Chomsky, Quine, Kripke, and so on-not a difficult task. It seems extremely unlikely that a reader in literary theory would have said that the book was rigorous, lucid, and insightful but could not be published because it ignored the major writers in the field. In this context, the Eco's work-which includes serious reference to a wide range of Anglo-American philosophers of language and to recent Anglo-American linguistic theory-is particularly welcome, even necessary for the intellectual health and integrity of our profession.

THE LIMITS OF SEMIOTICS

PATRICK COLM HOGAN

Umberto Eco. THE LIMITS OF INTERPRETATION. Bloomington: Indiana UP, 1990.

We may somewhat arbitrarily divide the field of semiotics into the formally oriented and the psychoanalytically oriented, that which is more closely allied with linguistics or cognitive science and that which is more influenced by affective psychology. Within the former group, Umberto Eco is certainly one of the most important and influential figures writing today. Any new work by Eco that aims to advance formal and linguistic concerns in literary and other interpretation is significant. And The Limits of Interpretation is no exception. It is a careful and challenging collection of essays that broach topics rarely considered with any seriousness by literary theorists.

It is no secret that literary theory has recently been dominated by continental philosophical thought along with psychoanalysis. Many of the linguistic presuppositions that underlie the most influential schools of continental philosophy have been powerfully criticized and arguably discredited by linguistic work in this country. Many psychoana- lytic doctrines and methods have been cast in serious doubt, as well, by critiques such as that of Adolf Grunbaum [see Foundations]. Nonetheless, recent work in cognitive science, as well as most of Anglo-American philosophy, is widely ignored or grossly misrepresented in literary theory. I might illustrate this with an anecdote. Recently, an acquaintance of mine submitted a book manuscript to a major university press. The book dealt with meaning and interpretation and involved extended explications and criticisms of work by Quine, Kuhn, Dummett, Kripke, Wittgenstein (as understood in the Analytic tradition), Katz, and Chomsky; it also involved briefer reference to Jackendoff, Fodor, Anscombe, Geach, Frege, Putnam, Searle, J. Holland, Holyoak, Nisbett, Thagard, Grice, and Strawson. Anyone familiar with recent developments in cognitive science and Anglo-American philosophy of language would immediately recognize these as top names in the study of meaning. The referee for the press praised the book highly for its clarity, rigor, and insight, but he or she had one crucial objection: the author never discussed the "major figures" writing on meaning and interpretation-an astounding assertion. Perhaps the work was indeed too biased in favor of Anglo-American thought. Perhaps the author should have included a discussion of Derrida, for example. But that is beside the point.- Chomsky, Quine, Kripke, et al. are indisputably major figures in linguistics and the philosophy of language, yet this referee-like most writers in literary theory-could not even conceive of granting them this status. For comparison, imagine the reverse. Imagine a manuscript on language, meaning, and interpretation that treated Derrida, Deleuze, Lyotard, and Lacan but not Chomsky, Quine, Kripke, and so on-not a difficult task. It seems extremely unlikely that a reader in literary theory would have said that the book was rigorous, lucid, and insightful but could not be published because it ignored the major writers in the field. In this context, the Eco's work-which includes serious reference to a wide range of Anglo-American philosophers of language and to recent Anglo-American linguistic theory-is particularly welcome, even necessary for the intellectual health and integrity of our profession.

THE LIMITS OF SEMIOTICS

PATRICK COLM HOGAN

Umberto Eco. THE LIMITS OF INTERPRETATION. Bloomington: Indiana UP, 1990.

We may somewhat arbitrarily divide the field of semiotics into the formally oriented and the psychoanalytically oriented, that which is more closely allied with linguistics or cognitive science and that which is more influenced by affective psychology. Within the former group, Umberto Eco is certainly one of the most important and influential figures writing today. Any new work by Eco that aims to advance formal and linguistic concerns in literary and other interpretation is significant. And The Limits of Interpretation is no exception. It is a careful and challenging collection of essays that broach topics rarely considered with any seriousness by literary theorists.

It is no secret that literary theory has recently been dominated by continental philosophical thought along with psychoanalysis. Many of the linguistic presuppositions that underlie the most influential schools of continental philosophy have been powerfully criticized and arguably discredited by linguistic work in this country. Many psychoana- lytic doctrines and methods have been cast in serious doubt, as well, by critiques such as that of Adolf Grunbaum [see Foundations]. Nonetheless, recent work in cognitive science, as well as most of Anglo-American philosophy, is widely ignored or grossly misrepresented in literary theory. I might illustrate this with an anecdote. Recently, an acquaintance of mine submitted a book manuscript to a major university press. The book dealt with meaning and interpretation and involved extended explications and criticisms of work by Quine, Kuhn, Dummett, Kripke, Wittgenstein (as understood in the Analytic tradition), Katz, and Chomsky; it also involved briefer reference to Jackendoff, Fodor, Anscombe, Geach, Frege, Putnam, Searle, J. Holland, Holyoak, Nisbett, Thagard, Grice, and Strawson. Anyone familiar with recent developments in cognitive science and Anglo-American philosophy of language would immediately recognize these as top names in the study of meaning. The referee for the press praised the book highly for its clarity, rigor, and insight, but he or she had one crucial objection: the author never discussed the "major figures" writing on meaning and interpretation-an astounding assertion. Perhaps the work was indeed too biased in favor of Anglo-American thought. Perhaps the author should have included a discussion of Derrida, for example. But that is beside the point.- Chomsky, Quine, Kripke, et al. are indisputably major figures in linguistics and the philosophy of language, yet this referee-like most writers in literary theory-could not even conceive of granting them this status. For comparison, imagine the reverse. Imagine a manuscript on language, meaning, and interpretation that treated Derrida, Deleuze, Lyotard, and Lacan but not Chomsky, Quine, Kripke, and so on-not a difficult task. It seems extremely unlikely that a reader in literary theory would have said that the book was rigorous, lucid, and insightful but could not be published because it ignored the major writers in the field. In this context, the Eco's work-which includes serious reference to a wide range of Anglo-American philosophers of language and to recent Anglo-American linguistic theory-is particularly welcome, even necessary for the intellectual health and integrity of our profession.

THE LIMITS OF SEMIOTICS

PATRICK COLM HOGAN

Umberto Eco. THE LIMITS OF INTERPRETATION. Bloomington: Indiana UP, 1990.

We may somewhat arbitrarily divide the field of semiotics into the formally oriented and the psychoanalytically oriented, that which is more closely allied with linguistics or cognitive science and that which is more influenced by affective psychology. Within the former group, Umberto Eco is certainly one of the most important and influential figures writing today. Any new work by Eco that aims to advance formal and linguistic concerns in literary and other interpretation is significant. And The Limits of Interpretation is no exception. It is a careful and challenging collection of essays that broach topics rarely considered with any seriousness by literary theorists.

It is no secret that literary theory has recently been dominated by continental philosophical thought along with psychoanalysis. Many of the linguistic presuppositions that underlie the most influential schools of continental philosophy have been powerfully criticized and arguably discredited by linguistic work in this country. Many psychoana- lytic doctrines and methods have been cast in serious doubt, as well, by critiques such as that of Adolf Grunbaum [see Foundations]. Nonetheless, recent work in cognitive science, as well as most of Anglo-American philosophy, is widely ignored or grossly misrepresented in literary theory. I might illustrate this with an anecdote. Recently, an acquaintance of mine submitted a book manuscript to a major university press. The book dealt with meaning and interpretation and involved extended explications and criticisms of work by Quine, Kuhn, Dummett, Kripke, Wittgenstein (as understood in the Analytic tradition), Katz, and Chomsky; it also involved briefer reference to Jackendoff, Fodor, Anscombe, Geach, Frege, Putnam, Searle, J. Holland, Holyoak, Nisbett, Thagard, Grice, and Strawson. Anyone familiar with recent developments in cognitive science and Anglo-American philosophy of language would immediately recognize these as top names in the study of meaning. The referee for the press praised the book highly for its clarity, rigor, and insight, but he or she had one crucial objection: the author never discussed the "major figures" writing on meaning and interpretation-an astounding assertion. Perhaps the work was indeed too biased in favor of Anglo-American thought. Perhaps the author should have included a discussion of Derrida, for example. But that is beside the point.- Chomsky, Quine, Kripke, et al. are indisputably major figures in linguistics and the philosophy of language, yet this referee-like most writers in literary theory-could not even conceive of granting them this status. For comparison, imagine the reverse. Imagine a manuscript on language, meaning, and interpretation that treated Derrida, Deleuze, Lyotard, and Lacan but not Chomsky, Quine, Kripke, and so on-not a difficult task. It seems extremely unlikely that a reader in literary theory would have said that the book was rigorous, lucid, and insightful but could not be published because it ignored the major writers in the field. In this context, the Eco's work-which includes serious reference to a wide range of Anglo-American philosophers of language and to recent Anglo-American linguistic theory-is particularly welcome, even necessary for the intellectual health and integrity of our profession.

THE LIMITS OF SEMIOTICS

PATRICK COLM HOGAN

Umberto Eco. THE LIMITS OF INTERPRETATION. Bloomington: Indiana UP, 1990.

We may somewhat arbitrarily divide the field of semiotics into the formally oriented and the psychoanalytically oriented, that which is more closely allied with linguistics or cognitive science and that which is more influenced by affective psychology. Within the former group, Umberto Eco is certainly one of the most important and influential figures writing today. Any new work by Eco that aims to advance formal and linguistic concerns in literary and other interpretation is significant. And The Limits of Interpretation is no exception. It is a careful and challenging collection of essays that broach topics rarely considered with any seriousness by literary theorists.

It is no secret that literary theory has recently been dominated by continental philosophical thought along with psychoanalysis. Many of the linguistic presuppositions that underlie the most influential schools of continental philosophy have been powerfully criticized and arguably discredited by linguistic work in this country. Many psychoana- lytic doctrines and methods have been cast in serious doubt, as well, by critiques such as that of Adolf Grunbaum [see Foundations]. Nonetheless, recent work in cognitive science, as well as most of Anglo-American philosophy, is widely ignored or grossly misrepresented in literary theory. I might illustrate this with an anecdote. Recently, an acquaintance of mine submitted a book manuscript to a major university press. The book dealt with meaning and interpretation and involved extended explications and criticisms of work by Quine, Kuhn, Dummett, Kripke, Wittgenstein (as understood in the Analytic tradition), Katz, and Chomsky; it also involved briefer reference to Jackendoff, Fodor, Anscombe, Geach, Frege, Putnam, Searle, J. Holland, Holyoak, Nisbett, Thagard, Grice, and Strawson. Anyone familiar with recent developments in cognitive science and Anglo-American philosophy of language would immediately recognize these as top names in the study of meaning. The referee for the press praised the book highly for its clarity, rigor, and insight, but he or she had one crucial objection: the author never discussed the "major figures" writing on meaning and interpretation-an astounding assertion. Perhaps the work was indeed too biased in favor of Anglo-American thought. Perhaps the author should have included a discussion of Derrida, for example. But that is beside the point.- Chomsky, Quine, Kripke, et al. are indisputably major figures in linguistics and the philosophy of language, yet this referee-like most writers in literary theory-could not even conceive of granting them this status. For comparison, imagine the reverse. Imagine a manuscript on language, meaning, and interpretation that treated Derrida, Deleuze, Lyotard, and Lacan but not Chomsky, Quine, Kripke, and so on-not a difficult task. It seems extremely unlikely that a reader in literary theory would have said that the book was rigorous, lucid, and insightful but could not be published because it ignored the major writers in the field. In this context, the Eco's work-which includes serious reference to a wide range of Anglo-American philosophers of language and to recent Anglo-American linguistic theory-is particularly welcome, even necessary for the intellectual health and integrity of our profession.

THE LIMITS OF SEMIOTICS

PATRICK COLM HOGAN

Umberto Eco. THE LIMITS OF INTERPRETATION. Bloomington: Indiana UP, 1990.

We may somewhat arbitrarily divide the field of semiotics into the formally oriented and the psychoanalytically oriented, that which is more closely allied with linguistics or cognitive science and that which is more influenced by affective psychology. Within the former group, Umberto Eco is certainly one of the most important and influential figures writing today. Any new work by Eco that aims to advance formal and linguistic concerns in literary and other interpretation is significant. And The Limits of Interpretation is no exception. It is a careful and challenging collection of essays that broach topics rarely considered with any seriousness by literary theorists.

It is no secret that literary theory has recently been dominated by continental philosophical thought along with psychoanalysis. Many of the linguistic presuppositions that underlie the most influential schools of continental philosophy have been powerfully criticized and arguably discredited by linguistic work in this country. Many psychoana- lytic doctrines and methods have been cast in serious doubt, as well, by critiques such as that of Adolf Grunbaum [see Foundations]. Nonetheless, recent work in cognitive science, as well as most of Anglo-American philosophy, is widely ignored or grossly misrepresented in literary theory. I might illustrate this with an anecdote. Recently, an acquaintance of mine submitted a book manuscript to a major university press. The book dealt with meaning and interpretation and involved extended explications and criticisms of work by Quine, Kuhn, Dummett, Kripke, Wittgenstein (as understood in the Analytic tradition), Katz, and Chomsky; it also involved briefer reference to Jackendoff, Fodor, Anscombe, Geach, Frege, Putnam, Searle, J. Holland, Holyoak, Nisbett, Thagard, Grice, and Strawson. Anyone familiar with recent developments in cognitive science and Anglo-American philosophy of language would immediately recognize these as top names in the study of meaning. The referee for the press praised the book highly for its clarity, rigor, and insight, but he or she had one crucial objection: the author never discussed the "major figures" writing on meaning and interpretation-an astounding assertion. Perhaps the work was indeed too biased in favor of Anglo-American thought. Perhaps the author should have included a discussion of Derrida, for example. But that is beside the point.- Chomsky, Quine, Kripke, et al. are indisputably major figures in linguistics and the philosophy of language, yet this referee-like most writers in literary theory-could not even conceive of granting them this status. For comparison, imagine the reverse. Imagine a manuscript on language, meaning, and interpretation that treated Derrida, Deleuze, Lyotard, and Lacan but not Chomsky, Quine, Kripke, and so on-not a difficult task. It seems extremely unlikely that a reader in literary theory would have said that the book was rigorous, lucid, and insightful but could not be published because it ignored the major writers in the field. In this context, the Eco's work-which includes serious reference to a wide range of Anglo-American philosophers of language and to recent Anglo-American linguistic theory-is particularly welcome, even necessary for the intellectual health and integrity of our profession.

THE LIMITS OF SEMIOTICS

PATRICK COLM HOGAN

Umberto Eco. THE LIMITS OF INTERPRETATION. Bloomington: Indiana UP, 1990.

We may somewhat arbitrarily divide the field of semiotics into the formally oriented and the psychoanalytically oriented, that which is more closely allied with linguistics or cognitive science and that which is more influenced by affective psychology. Within the former group, Umberto Eco is certainly one of the most important and influential figures writing today. Any new work by Eco that aims to advance formal and linguistic concerns in literary and other interpretation is significant. And The Limits of Interpretation is no exception. It is a careful and challenging collection of essays that broach topics rarely considered with any seriousness by literary theorists.

It is no secret that literary theory has recently been dominated by continental philosophical thought along with psychoanalysis. Many of the linguistic presuppositions that underlie the most influential schools of continental philosophy have been powerfully criticized and arguably discredited by linguistic work in this country. Many psychoana- lytic doctrines and methods have been cast in serious doubt, as well, by critiques such as that of Adolf Grunbaum [see Foundations]. Nonetheless, recent work in cognitive science, as well as most of Anglo-American philosophy, is widely ignored or grossly misrepresented in literary theory. I might illustrate this with an anecdote. Recently, an acquaintance of mine submitted a book manuscript to a major university press. The book dealt with meaning and interpretation and involved extended explications and criticisms of work by Quine, Kuhn, Dummett, Kripke, Wittgenstein (as understood in the Analytic tradition), Katz, and Chomsky; it also involved briefer reference to Jackendoff, Fodor, Anscombe, Geach, Frege, Putnam, Searle, J. Holland, Holyoak, Nisbett, Thagard, Grice, and Strawson. Anyone familiar with recent developments in cognitive science and Anglo-American philosophy of language would immediately recognize these as top names in the study of meaning. The referee for the press praised the book highly for its clarity, rigor, and insight, but he or she had one crucial objection: the author never discussed the "major figures" writing on meaning and interpretation-an astounding assertion. Perhaps the work was indeed too biased in favor of Anglo-American thought. Perhaps the author should have included a discussion of Derrida, for example. But that is beside the point.- Chomsky, Quine, Kripke, et al. are indisputably major figures in linguistics and the philosophy of language, yet this referee-like most writers in literary theory-could not even conceive of granting them this status. For comparison, imagine the reverse. Imagine a manuscript on language, meaning, and interpretation that treated Derrida, Deleuze, Lyotard, and Lacan but not Chomsky, Quine, Kripke, and so on-not a difficult task. It seems extremely unlikely that a reader in literary theory would have said that the book was rigorous, lucid, and insightful but could not be published because it ignored the major writers in the field. In this context, the Eco's work-which includes serious reference to a wide range of Anglo-American philosophers of language and to recent Anglo-American linguistic theory-is particularly welcome, even necessary for the intellectual health and integrity of our profession.

diacritics 23.4: 82-92 diacritics 23.4: 82-92 diacritics 23.4: 82-92 diacritics 23.4: 82-92 diacritics 23.4: 82-92 diacritics 23.4: 82-92 diacritics 23.4: 82-92 82 82 82 82 82 82 82

This content downloaded from 128.235.251.160 on Mon, 8 Dec 2014 09:17:56 AMAll use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions

Page 3: The Limits of Semiotics

In The Limits of Interpretation, Eco ranges from Plato and Aristotle through the Scholastics and other medieval writers up through Peirce, to Foucault, Derrida, Quine, Kripke, Hintikka, and others. In the course of fifteen chapters, he discusses allegory, pragmatism, possible worlds theory, popular fiction, drama, the representation of ani- mals, rhetoric, Joyce, Borges, Pirandello, the theory of forgery, pragmatics, presupposi- tion, and truth. Many of the essays are held together by the theme expressed in the title of the book-that interpretation has limits. One task Eco sets himself in this volume is to maintain that while the production of meaning is infinite, there are indeed limits to what one can correctly say about a given work. There are, in other words, wrong answers to interpretive questions.

This is no doubt a valid point, but the problems with Eco's book surface already at this level. First of all, no one really disagrees with this claim. In some form, in some contexts, virtually everyone agrees that some interpretations are wrong. Even Stanley Fish in his most relativistic moods would acknowledge that at least locally, at least within a given community, certain interpretations are mistaken. Eco, despite occasional references to community, no doubt wants to claim more than this very minimal position. But he gives his antagonists only the briefest treatment, and thus he never specifies his claim in such a way as to make it truly interesting and controversial. He never discusses Fish, for example, and his treatment of Derrida is confined almost entirely to Derrida's discussion of Peirce. Indeed, by the end of his criticism of Derrida, Eco appears to be claiming that he does not disagree with Derrida at all but rather with certain of his followers-followers who are not named, much less quoted and engaged in serious criticism. Initially, Eco claims that Derrida "looks for authorities [such as Peirce] able to legitimize" his affirmation of "the infinite whirl of interpretation" [34], a notion clearly opposed to Eco's own view of interpretation as limited. Two pages later, Eco maintains vaguely that "Derrida takes many of these obvious truths [that is, presumably, obvious truths about the limits of interpretation] for granted-while frequently some of his followers do not" [36].

A more extreme case of this same phenomenon may be found in the final chapter, where Eco almost certainly intends to suggest a criticism of Jerry Fodor's concept of a language of thought [see Fodor, Language], though he never mentions Fodor and thus never directly addresses Fodor's specific arguments and analyses. This somewhat confusing chapter is written in the form of a dialogue and addresses the problem of the definition of lexical items. In dictionaries, these are defined by other lexical items. If they are defined similarly in our minds, that would seem to pose problems. If "a" means "b," and "b" means "c," and "c" means "d," and so on, how do we ever get any meaning at all? Fodor's notion of an innate system of mental representations [see Representations] is in part an attempt to resolve such problems-and to address data concerning evident semantic universals, surprising features of language acquisition, and other matters. Eco seems entirely unaware of any of these problems when he has one speaker, CSP, say, "I hardly understand what a concept or mental category is, but I can tell you that if in a given encyclopedia, let's say, A, I use some of these terms as primitives, I must presuppose them as being interpreted by an encyclopedia B. Then, in B, in order to interpret them, I can assume as primitives terms already interpreted by A" [277], which appears to be a statement of the problem rather than a solution to it. Subsequently, he seems to allude directly to Fodor-or other unmentioned representationalists, such as Chomsky [see, for example, Rules]-when he has CSP maintain, similarly, that there is no difference between expressions themselves and items that serve to interpret expressions, and thus that there are no mental representations [281]. He does admit images, which might have allowed him a way out of the dilemma of semantic circularity, even if they are of no help with respect to the other issues (for example, acquisition); however, he immediately claims that images too are expressions interpretable by other expressions [281]. Indeed,

In The Limits of Interpretation, Eco ranges from Plato and Aristotle through the Scholastics and other medieval writers up through Peirce, to Foucault, Derrida, Quine, Kripke, Hintikka, and others. In the course of fifteen chapters, he discusses allegory, pragmatism, possible worlds theory, popular fiction, drama, the representation of ani- mals, rhetoric, Joyce, Borges, Pirandello, the theory of forgery, pragmatics, presupposi- tion, and truth. Many of the essays are held together by the theme expressed in the title of the book-that interpretation has limits. One task Eco sets himself in this volume is to maintain that while the production of meaning is infinite, there are indeed limits to what one can correctly say about a given work. There are, in other words, wrong answers to interpretive questions.

This is no doubt a valid point, but the problems with Eco's book surface already at this level. First of all, no one really disagrees with this claim. In some form, in some contexts, virtually everyone agrees that some interpretations are wrong. Even Stanley Fish in his most relativistic moods would acknowledge that at least locally, at least within a given community, certain interpretations are mistaken. Eco, despite occasional references to community, no doubt wants to claim more than this very minimal position. But he gives his antagonists only the briefest treatment, and thus he never specifies his claim in such a way as to make it truly interesting and controversial. He never discusses Fish, for example, and his treatment of Derrida is confined almost entirely to Derrida's discussion of Peirce. Indeed, by the end of his criticism of Derrida, Eco appears to be claiming that he does not disagree with Derrida at all but rather with certain of his followers-followers who are not named, much less quoted and engaged in serious criticism. Initially, Eco claims that Derrida "looks for authorities [such as Peirce] able to legitimize" his affirmation of "the infinite whirl of interpretation" [34], a notion clearly opposed to Eco's own view of interpretation as limited. Two pages later, Eco maintains vaguely that "Derrida takes many of these obvious truths [that is, presumably, obvious truths about the limits of interpretation] for granted-while frequently some of his followers do not" [36].

A more extreme case of this same phenomenon may be found in the final chapter, where Eco almost certainly intends to suggest a criticism of Jerry Fodor's concept of a language of thought [see Fodor, Language], though he never mentions Fodor and thus never directly addresses Fodor's specific arguments and analyses. This somewhat confusing chapter is written in the form of a dialogue and addresses the problem of the definition of lexical items. In dictionaries, these are defined by other lexical items. If they are defined similarly in our minds, that would seem to pose problems. If "a" means "b," and "b" means "c," and "c" means "d," and so on, how do we ever get any meaning at all? Fodor's notion of an innate system of mental representations [see Representations] is in part an attempt to resolve such problems-and to address data concerning evident semantic universals, surprising features of language acquisition, and other matters. Eco seems entirely unaware of any of these problems when he has one speaker, CSP, say, "I hardly understand what a concept or mental category is, but I can tell you that if in a given encyclopedia, let's say, A, I use some of these terms as primitives, I must presuppose them as being interpreted by an encyclopedia B. Then, in B, in order to interpret them, I can assume as primitives terms already interpreted by A" [277], which appears to be a statement of the problem rather than a solution to it. Subsequently, he seems to allude directly to Fodor-or other unmentioned representationalists, such as Chomsky [see, for example, Rules]-when he has CSP maintain, similarly, that there is no difference between expressions themselves and items that serve to interpret expressions, and thus that there are no mental representations [281]. He does admit images, which might have allowed him a way out of the dilemma of semantic circularity, even if they are of no help with respect to the other issues (for example, acquisition); however, he immediately claims that images too are expressions interpretable by other expressions [281]. Indeed,

In The Limits of Interpretation, Eco ranges from Plato and Aristotle through the Scholastics and other medieval writers up through Peirce, to Foucault, Derrida, Quine, Kripke, Hintikka, and others. In the course of fifteen chapters, he discusses allegory, pragmatism, possible worlds theory, popular fiction, drama, the representation of ani- mals, rhetoric, Joyce, Borges, Pirandello, the theory of forgery, pragmatics, presupposi- tion, and truth. Many of the essays are held together by the theme expressed in the title of the book-that interpretation has limits. One task Eco sets himself in this volume is to maintain that while the production of meaning is infinite, there are indeed limits to what one can correctly say about a given work. There are, in other words, wrong answers to interpretive questions.

This is no doubt a valid point, but the problems with Eco's book surface already at this level. First of all, no one really disagrees with this claim. In some form, in some contexts, virtually everyone agrees that some interpretations are wrong. Even Stanley Fish in his most relativistic moods would acknowledge that at least locally, at least within a given community, certain interpretations are mistaken. Eco, despite occasional references to community, no doubt wants to claim more than this very minimal position. But he gives his antagonists only the briefest treatment, and thus he never specifies his claim in such a way as to make it truly interesting and controversial. He never discusses Fish, for example, and his treatment of Derrida is confined almost entirely to Derrida's discussion of Peirce. Indeed, by the end of his criticism of Derrida, Eco appears to be claiming that he does not disagree with Derrida at all but rather with certain of his followers-followers who are not named, much less quoted and engaged in serious criticism. Initially, Eco claims that Derrida "looks for authorities [such as Peirce] able to legitimize" his affirmation of "the infinite whirl of interpretation" [34], a notion clearly opposed to Eco's own view of interpretation as limited. Two pages later, Eco maintains vaguely that "Derrida takes many of these obvious truths [that is, presumably, obvious truths about the limits of interpretation] for granted-while frequently some of his followers do not" [36].

A more extreme case of this same phenomenon may be found in the final chapter, where Eco almost certainly intends to suggest a criticism of Jerry Fodor's concept of a language of thought [see Fodor, Language], though he never mentions Fodor and thus never directly addresses Fodor's specific arguments and analyses. This somewhat confusing chapter is written in the form of a dialogue and addresses the problem of the definition of lexical items. In dictionaries, these are defined by other lexical items. If they are defined similarly in our minds, that would seem to pose problems. If "a" means "b," and "b" means "c," and "c" means "d," and so on, how do we ever get any meaning at all? Fodor's notion of an innate system of mental representations [see Representations] is in part an attempt to resolve such problems-and to address data concerning evident semantic universals, surprising features of language acquisition, and other matters. Eco seems entirely unaware of any of these problems when he has one speaker, CSP, say, "I hardly understand what a concept or mental category is, but I can tell you that if in a given encyclopedia, let's say, A, I use some of these terms as primitives, I must presuppose them as being interpreted by an encyclopedia B. Then, in B, in order to interpret them, I can assume as primitives terms already interpreted by A" [277], which appears to be a statement of the problem rather than a solution to it. Subsequently, he seems to allude directly to Fodor-or other unmentioned representationalists, such as Chomsky [see, for example, Rules]-when he has CSP maintain, similarly, that there is no difference between expressions themselves and items that serve to interpret expressions, and thus that there are no mental representations [281]. He does admit images, which might have allowed him a way out of the dilemma of semantic circularity, even if they are of no help with respect to the other issues (for example, acquisition); however, he immediately claims that images too are expressions interpretable by other expressions [281]. Indeed,

In The Limits of Interpretation, Eco ranges from Plato and Aristotle through the Scholastics and other medieval writers up through Peirce, to Foucault, Derrida, Quine, Kripke, Hintikka, and others. In the course of fifteen chapters, he discusses allegory, pragmatism, possible worlds theory, popular fiction, drama, the representation of ani- mals, rhetoric, Joyce, Borges, Pirandello, the theory of forgery, pragmatics, presupposi- tion, and truth. Many of the essays are held together by the theme expressed in the title of the book-that interpretation has limits. One task Eco sets himself in this volume is to maintain that while the production of meaning is infinite, there are indeed limits to what one can correctly say about a given work. There are, in other words, wrong answers to interpretive questions.

This is no doubt a valid point, but the problems with Eco's book surface already at this level. First of all, no one really disagrees with this claim. In some form, in some contexts, virtually everyone agrees that some interpretations are wrong. Even Stanley Fish in his most relativistic moods would acknowledge that at least locally, at least within a given community, certain interpretations are mistaken. Eco, despite occasional references to community, no doubt wants to claim more than this very minimal position. But he gives his antagonists only the briefest treatment, and thus he never specifies his claim in such a way as to make it truly interesting and controversial. He never discusses Fish, for example, and his treatment of Derrida is confined almost entirely to Derrida's discussion of Peirce. Indeed, by the end of his criticism of Derrida, Eco appears to be claiming that he does not disagree with Derrida at all but rather with certain of his followers-followers who are not named, much less quoted and engaged in serious criticism. Initially, Eco claims that Derrida "looks for authorities [such as Peirce] able to legitimize" his affirmation of "the infinite whirl of interpretation" [34], a notion clearly opposed to Eco's own view of interpretation as limited. Two pages later, Eco maintains vaguely that "Derrida takes many of these obvious truths [that is, presumably, obvious truths about the limits of interpretation] for granted-while frequently some of his followers do not" [36].

A more extreme case of this same phenomenon may be found in the final chapter, where Eco almost certainly intends to suggest a criticism of Jerry Fodor's concept of a language of thought [see Fodor, Language], though he never mentions Fodor and thus never directly addresses Fodor's specific arguments and analyses. This somewhat confusing chapter is written in the form of a dialogue and addresses the problem of the definition of lexical items. In dictionaries, these are defined by other lexical items. If they are defined similarly in our minds, that would seem to pose problems. If "a" means "b," and "b" means "c," and "c" means "d," and so on, how do we ever get any meaning at all? Fodor's notion of an innate system of mental representations [see Representations] is in part an attempt to resolve such problems-and to address data concerning evident semantic universals, surprising features of language acquisition, and other matters. Eco seems entirely unaware of any of these problems when he has one speaker, CSP, say, "I hardly understand what a concept or mental category is, but I can tell you that if in a given encyclopedia, let's say, A, I use some of these terms as primitives, I must presuppose them as being interpreted by an encyclopedia B. Then, in B, in order to interpret them, I can assume as primitives terms already interpreted by A" [277], which appears to be a statement of the problem rather than a solution to it. Subsequently, he seems to allude directly to Fodor-or other unmentioned representationalists, such as Chomsky [see, for example, Rules]-when he has CSP maintain, similarly, that there is no difference between expressions themselves and items that serve to interpret expressions, and thus that there are no mental representations [281]. He does admit images, which might have allowed him a way out of the dilemma of semantic circularity, even if they are of no help with respect to the other issues (for example, acquisition); however, he immediately claims that images too are expressions interpretable by other expressions [281]. Indeed,

In The Limits of Interpretation, Eco ranges from Plato and Aristotle through the Scholastics and other medieval writers up through Peirce, to Foucault, Derrida, Quine, Kripke, Hintikka, and others. In the course of fifteen chapters, he discusses allegory, pragmatism, possible worlds theory, popular fiction, drama, the representation of ani- mals, rhetoric, Joyce, Borges, Pirandello, the theory of forgery, pragmatics, presupposi- tion, and truth. Many of the essays are held together by the theme expressed in the title of the book-that interpretation has limits. One task Eco sets himself in this volume is to maintain that while the production of meaning is infinite, there are indeed limits to what one can correctly say about a given work. There are, in other words, wrong answers to interpretive questions.

This is no doubt a valid point, but the problems with Eco's book surface already at this level. First of all, no one really disagrees with this claim. In some form, in some contexts, virtually everyone agrees that some interpretations are wrong. Even Stanley Fish in his most relativistic moods would acknowledge that at least locally, at least within a given community, certain interpretations are mistaken. Eco, despite occasional references to community, no doubt wants to claim more than this very minimal position. But he gives his antagonists only the briefest treatment, and thus he never specifies his claim in such a way as to make it truly interesting and controversial. He never discusses Fish, for example, and his treatment of Derrida is confined almost entirely to Derrida's discussion of Peirce. Indeed, by the end of his criticism of Derrida, Eco appears to be claiming that he does not disagree with Derrida at all but rather with certain of his followers-followers who are not named, much less quoted and engaged in serious criticism. Initially, Eco claims that Derrida "looks for authorities [such as Peirce] able to legitimize" his affirmation of "the infinite whirl of interpretation" [34], a notion clearly opposed to Eco's own view of interpretation as limited. Two pages later, Eco maintains vaguely that "Derrida takes many of these obvious truths [that is, presumably, obvious truths about the limits of interpretation] for granted-while frequently some of his followers do not" [36].

A more extreme case of this same phenomenon may be found in the final chapter, where Eco almost certainly intends to suggest a criticism of Jerry Fodor's concept of a language of thought [see Fodor, Language], though he never mentions Fodor and thus never directly addresses Fodor's specific arguments and analyses. This somewhat confusing chapter is written in the form of a dialogue and addresses the problem of the definition of lexical items. In dictionaries, these are defined by other lexical items. If they are defined similarly in our minds, that would seem to pose problems. If "a" means "b," and "b" means "c," and "c" means "d," and so on, how do we ever get any meaning at all? Fodor's notion of an innate system of mental representations [see Representations] is in part an attempt to resolve such problems-and to address data concerning evident semantic universals, surprising features of language acquisition, and other matters. Eco seems entirely unaware of any of these problems when he has one speaker, CSP, say, "I hardly understand what a concept or mental category is, but I can tell you that if in a given encyclopedia, let's say, A, I use some of these terms as primitives, I must presuppose them as being interpreted by an encyclopedia B. Then, in B, in order to interpret them, I can assume as primitives terms already interpreted by A" [277], which appears to be a statement of the problem rather than a solution to it. Subsequently, he seems to allude directly to Fodor-or other unmentioned representationalists, such as Chomsky [see, for example, Rules]-when he has CSP maintain, similarly, that there is no difference between expressions themselves and items that serve to interpret expressions, and thus that there are no mental representations [281]. He does admit images, which might have allowed him a way out of the dilemma of semantic circularity, even if they are of no help with respect to the other issues (for example, acquisition); however, he immediately claims that images too are expressions interpretable by other expressions [281]. Indeed,

In The Limits of Interpretation, Eco ranges from Plato and Aristotle through the Scholastics and other medieval writers up through Peirce, to Foucault, Derrida, Quine, Kripke, Hintikka, and others. In the course of fifteen chapters, he discusses allegory, pragmatism, possible worlds theory, popular fiction, drama, the representation of ani- mals, rhetoric, Joyce, Borges, Pirandello, the theory of forgery, pragmatics, presupposi- tion, and truth. Many of the essays are held together by the theme expressed in the title of the book-that interpretation has limits. One task Eco sets himself in this volume is to maintain that while the production of meaning is infinite, there are indeed limits to what one can correctly say about a given work. There are, in other words, wrong answers to interpretive questions.

This is no doubt a valid point, but the problems with Eco's book surface already at this level. First of all, no one really disagrees with this claim. In some form, in some contexts, virtually everyone agrees that some interpretations are wrong. Even Stanley Fish in his most relativistic moods would acknowledge that at least locally, at least within a given community, certain interpretations are mistaken. Eco, despite occasional references to community, no doubt wants to claim more than this very minimal position. But he gives his antagonists only the briefest treatment, and thus he never specifies his claim in such a way as to make it truly interesting and controversial. He never discusses Fish, for example, and his treatment of Derrida is confined almost entirely to Derrida's discussion of Peirce. Indeed, by the end of his criticism of Derrida, Eco appears to be claiming that he does not disagree with Derrida at all but rather with certain of his followers-followers who are not named, much less quoted and engaged in serious criticism. Initially, Eco claims that Derrida "looks for authorities [such as Peirce] able to legitimize" his affirmation of "the infinite whirl of interpretation" [34], a notion clearly opposed to Eco's own view of interpretation as limited. Two pages later, Eco maintains vaguely that "Derrida takes many of these obvious truths [that is, presumably, obvious truths about the limits of interpretation] for granted-while frequently some of his followers do not" [36].

A more extreme case of this same phenomenon may be found in the final chapter, where Eco almost certainly intends to suggest a criticism of Jerry Fodor's concept of a language of thought [see Fodor, Language], though he never mentions Fodor and thus never directly addresses Fodor's specific arguments and analyses. This somewhat confusing chapter is written in the form of a dialogue and addresses the problem of the definition of lexical items. In dictionaries, these are defined by other lexical items. If they are defined similarly in our minds, that would seem to pose problems. If "a" means "b," and "b" means "c," and "c" means "d," and so on, how do we ever get any meaning at all? Fodor's notion of an innate system of mental representations [see Representations] is in part an attempt to resolve such problems-and to address data concerning evident semantic universals, surprising features of language acquisition, and other matters. Eco seems entirely unaware of any of these problems when he has one speaker, CSP, say, "I hardly understand what a concept or mental category is, but I can tell you that if in a given encyclopedia, let's say, A, I use some of these terms as primitives, I must presuppose them as being interpreted by an encyclopedia B. Then, in B, in order to interpret them, I can assume as primitives terms already interpreted by A" [277], which appears to be a statement of the problem rather than a solution to it. Subsequently, he seems to allude directly to Fodor-or other unmentioned representationalists, such as Chomsky [see, for example, Rules]-when he has CSP maintain, similarly, that there is no difference between expressions themselves and items that serve to interpret expressions, and thus that there are no mental representations [281]. He does admit images, which might have allowed him a way out of the dilemma of semantic circularity, even if they are of no help with respect to the other issues (for example, acquisition); however, he immediately claims that images too are expressions interpretable by other expressions [281]. Indeed,

In The Limits of Interpretation, Eco ranges from Plato and Aristotle through the Scholastics and other medieval writers up through Peirce, to Foucault, Derrida, Quine, Kripke, Hintikka, and others. In the course of fifteen chapters, he discusses allegory, pragmatism, possible worlds theory, popular fiction, drama, the representation of ani- mals, rhetoric, Joyce, Borges, Pirandello, the theory of forgery, pragmatics, presupposi- tion, and truth. Many of the essays are held together by the theme expressed in the title of the book-that interpretation has limits. One task Eco sets himself in this volume is to maintain that while the production of meaning is infinite, there are indeed limits to what one can correctly say about a given work. There are, in other words, wrong answers to interpretive questions.

This is no doubt a valid point, but the problems with Eco's book surface already at this level. First of all, no one really disagrees with this claim. In some form, in some contexts, virtually everyone agrees that some interpretations are wrong. Even Stanley Fish in his most relativistic moods would acknowledge that at least locally, at least within a given community, certain interpretations are mistaken. Eco, despite occasional references to community, no doubt wants to claim more than this very minimal position. But he gives his antagonists only the briefest treatment, and thus he never specifies his claim in such a way as to make it truly interesting and controversial. He never discusses Fish, for example, and his treatment of Derrida is confined almost entirely to Derrida's discussion of Peirce. Indeed, by the end of his criticism of Derrida, Eco appears to be claiming that he does not disagree with Derrida at all but rather with certain of his followers-followers who are not named, much less quoted and engaged in serious criticism. Initially, Eco claims that Derrida "looks for authorities [such as Peirce] able to legitimize" his affirmation of "the infinite whirl of interpretation" [34], a notion clearly opposed to Eco's own view of interpretation as limited. Two pages later, Eco maintains vaguely that "Derrida takes many of these obvious truths [that is, presumably, obvious truths about the limits of interpretation] for granted-while frequently some of his followers do not" [36].

A more extreme case of this same phenomenon may be found in the final chapter, where Eco almost certainly intends to suggest a criticism of Jerry Fodor's concept of a language of thought [see Fodor, Language], though he never mentions Fodor and thus never directly addresses Fodor's specific arguments and analyses. This somewhat confusing chapter is written in the form of a dialogue and addresses the problem of the definition of lexical items. In dictionaries, these are defined by other lexical items. If they are defined similarly in our minds, that would seem to pose problems. If "a" means "b," and "b" means "c," and "c" means "d," and so on, how do we ever get any meaning at all? Fodor's notion of an innate system of mental representations [see Representations] is in part an attempt to resolve such problems-and to address data concerning evident semantic universals, surprising features of language acquisition, and other matters. Eco seems entirely unaware of any of these problems when he has one speaker, CSP, say, "I hardly understand what a concept or mental category is, but I can tell you that if in a given encyclopedia, let's say, A, I use some of these terms as primitives, I must presuppose them as being interpreted by an encyclopedia B. Then, in B, in order to interpret them, I can assume as primitives terms already interpreted by A" [277], which appears to be a statement of the problem rather than a solution to it. Subsequently, he seems to allude directly to Fodor-or other unmentioned representationalists, such as Chomsky [see, for example, Rules]-when he has CSP maintain, similarly, that there is no difference between expressions themselves and items that serve to interpret expressions, and thus that there are no mental representations [281]. He does admit images, which might have allowed him a way out of the dilemma of semantic circularity, even if they are of no help with respect to the other issues (for example, acquisition); however, he immediately claims that images too are expressions interpretable by other expressions [281]. Indeed,

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Page 4: The Limits of Semiotics

this seems to undermine the already limited explanatory value of ostensions [38], introduced earlier, as explicitly extrasemiotic entities, when Eco was criticizing deconstructive infinitude in interpretation (without discussion of Derrida's directly relevant views on perception [see Derrida 64 ff.]).

In the same chapter, Eco touches on the problem of minds and computers, thereby hinting at a topic that has been widely discussed by Anglo-American writers. In fact, one extremely important movement in the philosophy of mind-functionalism-has been deeply concerned with the relation between minds and computers (for a sampling, see the introductions and articles in Block's volumes). And much of cognitive science is based upon an assimilation of the human mind and the computer. In fact, one of Eco's dialecticians is a computer. Eco's presentation of this computer also appears to allude to Searle's arguments concerning computers and intention [see Minds, especially chapters 2 and 3]. But, again, none of this is directly addressed.

This repeated failure to address thinkers forthrightly is not necessarily a problem in and of itself. However, by not fully engaging writers such as Searle, Chomsky, Fodor, even Derrida and Fish, in a detailed and specified criticism, Eco fails to detail and specify his own views in a fully illuminating way. All too often he ends up making claims that are no doubt true but that fail to address the truly serious issues. While offering insightful glosses of some less familiar thinkers, and while engaging in some valuable semantic analysis, Eco too often sidesteps the hard cases, the difficult distinctions, the antagonistic writings that pose the real problems for a treatment of interpretation and its limits.

We may find a literary example of this in Eco's discussion of Finnegans Wake. Specifically, Eco cites a 1965 debate about the meaning of a certain term-"berial" [149- 51]. Eco convincingly demonstrates something we all know-that arguments about anachronism can be marshalled against the validity of a given interpretation, even in such a paradigmatically polysemous text as Finnegans Wake. But he does not address any of the more serious issues of Wake interpretation. For example, is any interpretation anachronistic if it refers to events that followed the first appearance of a given item in the Wake, as, for example, Geert Lemout has indicated in a more recent and more relevant debate [see, for example, Lemout 54-56; see also Knuth 512 and the subsequent exchange] and as Eco's discussants evidently assume? Or perhaps an interpretation is anachronistic only if it refers to events that follow the final version of the work as a whole? (Imagine the following: Joyce gets proofs of Finnegans Wake and considers changing "berial" to "barial." He then reads of Lavrenti Beria, decides that it is a nice pun, and sticks with the original.) If it varies from case to case, how can we decide? Do we need to decide? If we cannot decide, is it better to err in one direction or the other? And what of the important issues raised by Lernout, concerning such problems as when the meanings differ for a given word with a single graphic shape in Dutch, Flemish, Afrikaans, and German [see 46, 49]-or when Joyce himself was in error about the meaning of a given term in one or more of these languages [see Lernout 50]? Or, to take another case, given the degree to which he emphasizes context and co-text as disambiguating factors in interpretation, one might have expected Eco to make at least some reference to John Bishop's influential work, especially Bishop's argument against the relevance of imme- diate co-textual information in interpreting words, phrases, or longer units in Finnegans Wake [see chapter 10 of Bishop]. (In Eco's terminology, "co-text" is a narrower term than "context" and refers specifically to the actual language that surrounds any given utterance under interpretation [see 214-15]).

But these failings, howeverserious in themselves, are, I believe, symptoms of a larger problem. Like many semioticians, Eco simply has not gone deeply enough into Anglo- American philosophy and, more importantly, recent developments in linguistics and cognitive science. Sometimes this surfaces in simple misstatements of the theories under consideration and sometimes in formalizations that have no evident interpretive or

this seems to undermine the already limited explanatory value of ostensions [38], introduced earlier, as explicitly extrasemiotic entities, when Eco was criticizing deconstructive infinitude in interpretation (without discussion of Derrida's directly relevant views on perception [see Derrida 64 ff.]).

In the same chapter, Eco touches on the problem of minds and computers, thereby hinting at a topic that has been widely discussed by Anglo-American writers. In fact, one extremely important movement in the philosophy of mind-functionalism-has been deeply concerned with the relation between minds and computers (for a sampling, see the introductions and articles in Block's volumes). And much of cognitive science is based upon an assimilation of the human mind and the computer. In fact, one of Eco's dialecticians is a computer. Eco's presentation of this computer also appears to allude to Searle's arguments concerning computers and intention [see Minds, especially chapters 2 and 3]. But, again, none of this is directly addressed.

This repeated failure to address thinkers forthrightly is not necessarily a problem in and of itself. However, by not fully engaging writers such as Searle, Chomsky, Fodor, even Derrida and Fish, in a detailed and specified criticism, Eco fails to detail and specify his own views in a fully illuminating way. All too often he ends up making claims that are no doubt true but that fail to address the truly serious issues. While offering insightful glosses of some less familiar thinkers, and while engaging in some valuable semantic analysis, Eco too often sidesteps the hard cases, the difficult distinctions, the antagonistic writings that pose the real problems for a treatment of interpretation and its limits.

We may find a literary example of this in Eco's discussion of Finnegans Wake. Specifically, Eco cites a 1965 debate about the meaning of a certain term-"berial" [149- 51]. Eco convincingly demonstrates something we all know-that arguments about anachronism can be marshalled against the validity of a given interpretation, even in such a paradigmatically polysemous text as Finnegans Wake. But he does not address any of the more serious issues of Wake interpretation. For example, is any interpretation anachronistic if it refers to events that followed the first appearance of a given item in the Wake, as, for example, Geert Lemout has indicated in a more recent and more relevant debate [see, for example, Lemout 54-56; see also Knuth 512 and the subsequent exchange] and as Eco's discussants evidently assume? Or perhaps an interpretation is anachronistic only if it refers to events that follow the final version of the work as a whole? (Imagine the following: Joyce gets proofs of Finnegans Wake and considers changing "berial" to "barial." He then reads of Lavrenti Beria, decides that it is a nice pun, and sticks with the original.) If it varies from case to case, how can we decide? Do we need to decide? If we cannot decide, is it better to err in one direction or the other? And what of the important issues raised by Lernout, concerning such problems as when the meanings differ for a given word with a single graphic shape in Dutch, Flemish, Afrikaans, and German [see 46, 49]-or when Joyce himself was in error about the meaning of a given term in one or more of these languages [see Lernout 50]? Or, to take another case, given the degree to which he emphasizes context and co-text as disambiguating factors in interpretation, one might have expected Eco to make at least some reference to John Bishop's influential work, especially Bishop's argument against the relevance of imme- diate co-textual information in interpreting words, phrases, or longer units in Finnegans Wake [see chapter 10 of Bishop]. (In Eco's terminology, "co-text" is a narrower term than "context" and refers specifically to the actual language that surrounds any given utterance under interpretation [see 214-15]).

But these failings, howeverserious in themselves, are, I believe, symptoms of a larger problem. Like many semioticians, Eco simply has not gone deeply enough into Anglo- American philosophy and, more importantly, recent developments in linguistics and cognitive science. Sometimes this surfaces in simple misstatements of the theories under consideration and sometimes in formalizations that have no evident interpretive or

this seems to undermine the already limited explanatory value of ostensions [38], introduced earlier, as explicitly extrasemiotic entities, when Eco was criticizing deconstructive infinitude in interpretation (without discussion of Derrida's directly relevant views on perception [see Derrida 64 ff.]).

In the same chapter, Eco touches on the problem of minds and computers, thereby hinting at a topic that has been widely discussed by Anglo-American writers. In fact, one extremely important movement in the philosophy of mind-functionalism-has been deeply concerned with the relation between minds and computers (for a sampling, see the introductions and articles in Block's volumes). And much of cognitive science is based upon an assimilation of the human mind and the computer. In fact, one of Eco's dialecticians is a computer. Eco's presentation of this computer also appears to allude to Searle's arguments concerning computers and intention [see Minds, especially chapters 2 and 3]. But, again, none of this is directly addressed.

This repeated failure to address thinkers forthrightly is not necessarily a problem in and of itself. However, by not fully engaging writers such as Searle, Chomsky, Fodor, even Derrida and Fish, in a detailed and specified criticism, Eco fails to detail and specify his own views in a fully illuminating way. All too often he ends up making claims that are no doubt true but that fail to address the truly serious issues. While offering insightful glosses of some less familiar thinkers, and while engaging in some valuable semantic analysis, Eco too often sidesteps the hard cases, the difficult distinctions, the antagonistic writings that pose the real problems for a treatment of interpretation and its limits.

We may find a literary example of this in Eco's discussion of Finnegans Wake. Specifically, Eco cites a 1965 debate about the meaning of a certain term-"berial" [149- 51]. Eco convincingly demonstrates something we all know-that arguments about anachronism can be marshalled against the validity of a given interpretation, even in such a paradigmatically polysemous text as Finnegans Wake. But he does not address any of the more serious issues of Wake interpretation. For example, is any interpretation anachronistic if it refers to events that followed the first appearance of a given item in the Wake, as, for example, Geert Lemout has indicated in a more recent and more relevant debate [see, for example, Lemout 54-56; see also Knuth 512 and the subsequent exchange] and as Eco's discussants evidently assume? Or perhaps an interpretation is anachronistic only if it refers to events that follow the final version of the work as a whole? (Imagine the following: Joyce gets proofs of Finnegans Wake and considers changing "berial" to "barial." He then reads of Lavrenti Beria, decides that it is a nice pun, and sticks with the original.) If it varies from case to case, how can we decide? Do we need to decide? If we cannot decide, is it better to err in one direction or the other? And what of the important issues raised by Lernout, concerning such problems as when the meanings differ for a given word with a single graphic shape in Dutch, Flemish, Afrikaans, and German [see 46, 49]-or when Joyce himself was in error about the meaning of a given term in one or more of these languages [see Lernout 50]? Or, to take another case, given the degree to which he emphasizes context and co-text as disambiguating factors in interpretation, one might have expected Eco to make at least some reference to John Bishop's influential work, especially Bishop's argument against the relevance of imme- diate co-textual information in interpreting words, phrases, or longer units in Finnegans Wake [see chapter 10 of Bishop]. (In Eco's terminology, "co-text" is a narrower term than "context" and refers specifically to the actual language that surrounds any given utterance under interpretation [see 214-15]).

But these failings, howeverserious in themselves, are, I believe, symptoms of a larger problem. Like many semioticians, Eco simply has not gone deeply enough into Anglo- American philosophy and, more importantly, recent developments in linguistics and cognitive science. Sometimes this surfaces in simple misstatements of the theories under consideration and sometimes in formalizations that have no evident interpretive or

this seems to undermine the already limited explanatory value of ostensions [38], introduced earlier, as explicitly extrasemiotic entities, when Eco was criticizing deconstructive infinitude in interpretation (without discussion of Derrida's directly relevant views on perception [see Derrida 64 ff.]).

In the same chapter, Eco touches on the problem of minds and computers, thereby hinting at a topic that has been widely discussed by Anglo-American writers. In fact, one extremely important movement in the philosophy of mind-functionalism-has been deeply concerned with the relation between minds and computers (for a sampling, see the introductions and articles in Block's volumes). And much of cognitive science is based upon an assimilation of the human mind and the computer. In fact, one of Eco's dialecticians is a computer. Eco's presentation of this computer also appears to allude to Searle's arguments concerning computers and intention [see Minds, especially chapters 2 and 3]. But, again, none of this is directly addressed.

This repeated failure to address thinkers forthrightly is not necessarily a problem in and of itself. However, by not fully engaging writers such as Searle, Chomsky, Fodor, even Derrida and Fish, in a detailed and specified criticism, Eco fails to detail and specify his own views in a fully illuminating way. All too often he ends up making claims that are no doubt true but that fail to address the truly serious issues. While offering insightful glosses of some less familiar thinkers, and while engaging in some valuable semantic analysis, Eco too often sidesteps the hard cases, the difficult distinctions, the antagonistic writings that pose the real problems for a treatment of interpretation and its limits.

We may find a literary example of this in Eco's discussion of Finnegans Wake. Specifically, Eco cites a 1965 debate about the meaning of a certain term-"berial" [149- 51]. Eco convincingly demonstrates something we all know-that arguments about anachronism can be marshalled against the validity of a given interpretation, even in such a paradigmatically polysemous text as Finnegans Wake. But he does not address any of the more serious issues of Wake interpretation. For example, is any interpretation anachronistic if it refers to events that followed the first appearance of a given item in the Wake, as, for example, Geert Lemout has indicated in a more recent and more relevant debate [see, for example, Lemout 54-56; see also Knuth 512 and the subsequent exchange] and as Eco's discussants evidently assume? Or perhaps an interpretation is anachronistic only if it refers to events that follow the final version of the work as a whole? (Imagine the following: Joyce gets proofs of Finnegans Wake and considers changing "berial" to "barial." He then reads of Lavrenti Beria, decides that it is a nice pun, and sticks with the original.) If it varies from case to case, how can we decide? Do we need to decide? If we cannot decide, is it better to err in one direction or the other? And what of the important issues raised by Lernout, concerning such problems as when the meanings differ for a given word with a single graphic shape in Dutch, Flemish, Afrikaans, and German [see 46, 49]-or when Joyce himself was in error about the meaning of a given term in one or more of these languages [see Lernout 50]? Or, to take another case, given the degree to which he emphasizes context and co-text as disambiguating factors in interpretation, one might have expected Eco to make at least some reference to John Bishop's influential work, especially Bishop's argument against the relevance of imme- diate co-textual information in interpreting words, phrases, or longer units in Finnegans Wake [see chapter 10 of Bishop]. (In Eco's terminology, "co-text" is a narrower term than "context" and refers specifically to the actual language that surrounds any given utterance under interpretation [see 214-15]).

But these failings, howeverserious in themselves, are, I believe, symptoms of a larger problem. Like many semioticians, Eco simply has not gone deeply enough into Anglo- American philosophy and, more importantly, recent developments in linguistics and cognitive science. Sometimes this surfaces in simple misstatements of the theories under consideration and sometimes in formalizations that have no evident interpretive or

this seems to undermine the already limited explanatory value of ostensions [38], introduced earlier, as explicitly extrasemiotic entities, when Eco was criticizing deconstructive infinitude in interpretation (without discussion of Derrida's directly relevant views on perception [see Derrida 64 ff.]).

In the same chapter, Eco touches on the problem of minds and computers, thereby hinting at a topic that has been widely discussed by Anglo-American writers. In fact, one extremely important movement in the philosophy of mind-functionalism-has been deeply concerned with the relation between minds and computers (for a sampling, see the introductions and articles in Block's volumes). And much of cognitive science is based upon an assimilation of the human mind and the computer. In fact, one of Eco's dialecticians is a computer. Eco's presentation of this computer also appears to allude to Searle's arguments concerning computers and intention [see Minds, especially chapters 2 and 3]. But, again, none of this is directly addressed.

This repeated failure to address thinkers forthrightly is not necessarily a problem in and of itself. However, by not fully engaging writers such as Searle, Chomsky, Fodor, even Derrida and Fish, in a detailed and specified criticism, Eco fails to detail and specify his own views in a fully illuminating way. All too often he ends up making claims that are no doubt true but that fail to address the truly serious issues. While offering insightful glosses of some less familiar thinkers, and while engaging in some valuable semantic analysis, Eco too often sidesteps the hard cases, the difficult distinctions, the antagonistic writings that pose the real problems for a treatment of interpretation and its limits.

We may find a literary example of this in Eco's discussion of Finnegans Wake. Specifically, Eco cites a 1965 debate about the meaning of a certain term-"berial" [149- 51]. Eco convincingly demonstrates something we all know-that arguments about anachronism can be marshalled against the validity of a given interpretation, even in such a paradigmatically polysemous text as Finnegans Wake. But he does not address any of the more serious issues of Wake interpretation. For example, is any interpretation anachronistic if it refers to events that followed the first appearance of a given item in the Wake, as, for example, Geert Lemout has indicated in a more recent and more relevant debate [see, for example, Lemout 54-56; see also Knuth 512 and the subsequent exchange] and as Eco's discussants evidently assume? Or perhaps an interpretation is anachronistic only if it refers to events that follow the final version of the work as a whole? (Imagine the following: Joyce gets proofs of Finnegans Wake and considers changing "berial" to "barial." He then reads of Lavrenti Beria, decides that it is a nice pun, and sticks with the original.) If it varies from case to case, how can we decide? Do we need to decide? If we cannot decide, is it better to err in one direction or the other? And what of the important issues raised by Lernout, concerning such problems as when the meanings differ for a given word with a single graphic shape in Dutch, Flemish, Afrikaans, and German [see 46, 49]-or when Joyce himself was in error about the meaning of a given term in one or more of these languages [see Lernout 50]? Or, to take another case, given the degree to which he emphasizes context and co-text as disambiguating factors in interpretation, one might have expected Eco to make at least some reference to John Bishop's influential work, especially Bishop's argument against the relevance of imme- diate co-textual information in interpreting words, phrases, or longer units in Finnegans Wake [see chapter 10 of Bishop]. (In Eco's terminology, "co-text" is a narrower term than "context" and refers specifically to the actual language that surrounds any given utterance under interpretation [see 214-15]).

But these failings, howeverserious in themselves, are, I believe, symptoms of a larger problem. Like many semioticians, Eco simply has not gone deeply enough into Anglo- American philosophy and, more importantly, recent developments in linguistics and cognitive science. Sometimes this surfaces in simple misstatements of the theories under consideration and sometimes in formalizations that have no evident interpretive or

this seems to undermine the already limited explanatory value of ostensions [38], introduced earlier, as explicitly extrasemiotic entities, when Eco was criticizing deconstructive infinitude in interpretation (without discussion of Derrida's directly relevant views on perception [see Derrida 64 ff.]).

In the same chapter, Eco touches on the problem of minds and computers, thereby hinting at a topic that has been widely discussed by Anglo-American writers. In fact, one extremely important movement in the philosophy of mind-functionalism-has been deeply concerned with the relation between minds and computers (for a sampling, see the introductions and articles in Block's volumes). And much of cognitive science is based upon an assimilation of the human mind and the computer. In fact, one of Eco's dialecticians is a computer. Eco's presentation of this computer also appears to allude to Searle's arguments concerning computers and intention [see Minds, especially chapters 2 and 3]. But, again, none of this is directly addressed.

This repeated failure to address thinkers forthrightly is not necessarily a problem in and of itself. However, by not fully engaging writers such as Searle, Chomsky, Fodor, even Derrida and Fish, in a detailed and specified criticism, Eco fails to detail and specify his own views in a fully illuminating way. All too often he ends up making claims that are no doubt true but that fail to address the truly serious issues. While offering insightful glosses of some less familiar thinkers, and while engaging in some valuable semantic analysis, Eco too often sidesteps the hard cases, the difficult distinctions, the antagonistic writings that pose the real problems for a treatment of interpretation and its limits.

We may find a literary example of this in Eco's discussion of Finnegans Wake. Specifically, Eco cites a 1965 debate about the meaning of a certain term-"berial" [149- 51]. Eco convincingly demonstrates something we all know-that arguments about anachronism can be marshalled against the validity of a given interpretation, even in such a paradigmatically polysemous text as Finnegans Wake. But he does not address any of the more serious issues of Wake interpretation. For example, is any interpretation anachronistic if it refers to events that followed the first appearance of a given item in the Wake, as, for example, Geert Lemout has indicated in a more recent and more relevant debate [see, for example, Lemout 54-56; see also Knuth 512 and the subsequent exchange] and as Eco's discussants evidently assume? Or perhaps an interpretation is anachronistic only if it refers to events that follow the final version of the work as a whole? (Imagine the following: Joyce gets proofs of Finnegans Wake and considers changing "berial" to "barial." He then reads of Lavrenti Beria, decides that it is a nice pun, and sticks with the original.) If it varies from case to case, how can we decide? Do we need to decide? If we cannot decide, is it better to err in one direction or the other? And what of the important issues raised by Lernout, concerning such problems as when the meanings differ for a given word with a single graphic shape in Dutch, Flemish, Afrikaans, and German [see 46, 49]-or when Joyce himself was in error about the meaning of a given term in one or more of these languages [see Lernout 50]? Or, to take another case, given the degree to which he emphasizes context and co-text as disambiguating factors in interpretation, one might have expected Eco to make at least some reference to John Bishop's influential work, especially Bishop's argument against the relevance of imme- diate co-textual information in interpreting words, phrases, or longer units in Finnegans Wake [see chapter 10 of Bishop]. (In Eco's terminology, "co-text" is a narrower term than "context" and refers specifically to the actual language that surrounds any given utterance under interpretation [see 214-15]).

But these failings, howeverserious in themselves, are, I believe, symptoms of a larger problem. Like many semioticians, Eco simply has not gone deeply enough into Anglo- American philosophy and, more importantly, recent developments in linguistics and cognitive science. Sometimes this surfaces in simple misstatements of the theories under consideration and sometimes in formalizations that have no evident interpretive or

this seems to undermine the already limited explanatory value of ostensions [38], introduced earlier, as explicitly extrasemiotic entities, when Eco was criticizing deconstructive infinitude in interpretation (without discussion of Derrida's directly relevant views on perception [see Derrida 64 ff.]).

In the same chapter, Eco touches on the problem of minds and computers, thereby hinting at a topic that has been widely discussed by Anglo-American writers. In fact, one extremely important movement in the philosophy of mind-functionalism-has been deeply concerned with the relation between minds and computers (for a sampling, see the introductions and articles in Block's volumes). And much of cognitive science is based upon an assimilation of the human mind and the computer. In fact, one of Eco's dialecticians is a computer. Eco's presentation of this computer also appears to allude to Searle's arguments concerning computers and intention [see Minds, especially chapters 2 and 3]. But, again, none of this is directly addressed.

This repeated failure to address thinkers forthrightly is not necessarily a problem in and of itself. However, by not fully engaging writers such as Searle, Chomsky, Fodor, even Derrida and Fish, in a detailed and specified criticism, Eco fails to detail and specify his own views in a fully illuminating way. All too often he ends up making claims that are no doubt true but that fail to address the truly serious issues. While offering insightful glosses of some less familiar thinkers, and while engaging in some valuable semantic analysis, Eco too often sidesteps the hard cases, the difficult distinctions, the antagonistic writings that pose the real problems for a treatment of interpretation and its limits.

We may find a literary example of this in Eco's discussion of Finnegans Wake. Specifically, Eco cites a 1965 debate about the meaning of a certain term-"berial" [149- 51]. Eco convincingly demonstrates something we all know-that arguments about anachronism can be marshalled against the validity of a given interpretation, even in such a paradigmatically polysemous text as Finnegans Wake. But he does not address any of the more serious issues of Wake interpretation. For example, is any interpretation anachronistic if it refers to events that followed the first appearance of a given item in the Wake, as, for example, Geert Lemout has indicated in a more recent and more relevant debate [see, for example, Lemout 54-56; see also Knuth 512 and the subsequent exchange] and as Eco's discussants evidently assume? Or perhaps an interpretation is anachronistic only if it refers to events that follow the final version of the work as a whole? (Imagine the following: Joyce gets proofs of Finnegans Wake and considers changing "berial" to "barial." He then reads of Lavrenti Beria, decides that it is a nice pun, and sticks with the original.) If it varies from case to case, how can we decide? Do we need to decide? If we cannot decide, is it better to err in one direction or the other? And what of the important issues raised by Lernout, concerning such problems as when the meanings differ for a given word with a single graphic shape in Dutch, Flemish, Afrikaans, and German [see 46, 49]-or when Joyce himself was in error about the meaning of a given term in one or more of these languages [see Lernout 50]? Or, to take another case, given the degree to which he emphasizes context and co-text as disambiguating factors in interpretation, one might have expected Eco to make at least some reference to John Bishop's influential work, especially Bishop's argument against the relevance of imme- diate co-textual information in interpreting words, phrases, or longer units in Finnegans Wake [see chapter 10 of Bishop]. (In Eco's terminology, "co-text" is a narrower term than "context" and refers specifically to the actual language that surrounds any given utterance under interpretation [see 214-15]).

But these failings, howeverserious in themselves, are, I believe, symptoms of a larger problem. Like many semioticians, Eco simply has not gone deeply enough into Anglo- American philosophy and, more importantly, recent developments in linguistics and cognitive science. Sometimes this surfaces in simple misstatements of the theories under consideration and sometimes in formalizations that have no evident interpretive or

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Page 5: The Limits of Semiotics

theoretical value, formalizations that are more like translations than theoretical develop- ments. More typically, and more importantly, the problem is apparent in Eco's failure to question certain presuppositions and thus even to consider some of the most crucial and basic issues.

The most obvious way in which Eco's work involves valueless technicalization is actually part of the semiotic project, for this project by its very nature involves taking everything that requires inference and labeling it a sign or system of signs. Thus, whenever understanding a given object involves something beyond mere perception- and that is, of course, always-Eco informs us that we are dealing with a sign. These are interesting and valuable assertions if and only if they are developed in such a way as to show that the objects termed "signs" actually partake of properties peculiar to language. Take, for example, a drunk on the stage, "a sign," Eco tells us [102]. Certainly, we make inferences about the character, even about alcoholism. But telling us that he or she is a sign implies something else as well. As a technical term, it leads us to believe that there is something more going on than mere inference. If there is not more going on, using this terminology is a form of mystification, however mild. One way of distinguishing between technical terminology and jargon or obfuscation is by linking technical terminology with specification and clarification within a theory and linkingjargon and obfuscation with the mysterious hint of such specification and clarification when these are in fact absent. Unfortunately Eco in no way indicates that there is anything more to the drunk's being a sign than our use of inference. There is no parallel here for hierarchical lexical structuration, syntactic marking, allomorphy, or any other linguistic indicator.

One could identify numerous instances of pointless formalization and errors or obscurities in the presentation of theories (particularly from Anglo-American philoso- phy), but I would like to raise other, more controversial objections. For example, Eco insists that, while we cannot tell whether a reading is good, we can tell whether a reading is bad. At one point he maintains that "it is possible to reach an agreement, if not about the meanings that a text encourages, at least about those that a text discourages" [45]. Prima facie this is a bizarre statement. How could we possibly be able to identify errors without at once identifying nonerrors? How could we recognize evidence against one reading without at once recognizing evidence for another reading? Eco supports his view by reference to Karl Popper's falsificationist philosophy of science. He accepts "a sort of Popper-like principle according to which if there are not rules that help to ascertain which interpretations are the 'best ones,' there is at least a rule for ascertaining which ones are 'bad"' [60]. Popper's views on disconfirmation are certainly respectable and well respected. But they are highly problematic even in the physical sciences, and certainly in the humanities. Popper is of course correct about a logical point: the falsity of a conclusion implies the falsity of the premise, while the truth of a conclusion does not imply the truth of the premise. The problem is that negative results can be accommodated by complicating the theory in question. And to make matters worse, it is not always easy to tell if conclusions have or have not proven false-especially in such fuzzy areas as literary interpretation (a point made for the relatively nonfuzzy physical sciences as early as 1946 by A. J. Ayer [38]). The situation is not hopeless. But falsificationism does not provide a sure solution to the problems of interpretation. As in any other field, we must consider a combination of factors: to what extent the data seem consistent with the theory or interpretation, how elegant the theory/interpretation is, how consistent it is with more general principles in linguistics, cognitive science, or other relevant fields, and so on. (For a developed criticism of falsificationism, see Grunbaum, "Falsifiability.") When we consider these factors, we can decide (tentatively) what readings are good just as easily as we can decide (also tentatively) what readings are bad.

This mention of coherence with more general principles of linguistics and cognitive science brings me to my final and most serious criticisms of Eco, criticisms that relate to

theoretical value, formalizations that are more like translations than theoretical develop- ments. More typically, and more importantly, the problem is apparent in Eco's failure to question certain presuppositions and thus even to consider some of the most crucial and basic issues.

The most obvious way in which Eco's work involves valueless technicalization is actually part of the semiotic project, for this project by its very nature involves taking everything that requires inference and labeling it a sign or system of signs. Thus, whenever understanding a given object involves something beyond mere perception- and that is, of course, always-Eco informs us that we are dealing with a sign. These are interesting and valuable assertions if and only if they are developed in such a way as to show that the objects termed "signs" actually partake of properties peculiar to language. Take, for example, a drunk on the stage, "a sign," Eco tells us [102]. Certainly, we make inferences about the character, even about alcoholism. But telling us that he or she is a sign implies something else as well. As a technical term, it leads us to believe that there is something more going on than mere inference. If there is not more going on, using this terminology is a form of mystification, however mild. One way of distinguishing between technical terminology and jargon or obfuscation is by linking technical terminology with specification and clarification within a theory and linkingjargon and obfuscation with the mysterious hint of such specification and clarification when these are in fact absent. Unfortunately Eco in no way indicates that there is anything more to the drunk's being a sign than our use of inference. There is no parallel here for hierarchical lexical structuration, syntactic marking, allomorphy, or any other linguistic indicator.

One could identify numerous instances of pointless formalization and errors or obscurities in the presentation of theories (particularly from Anglo-American philoso- phy), but I would like to raise other, more controversial objections. For example, Eco insists that, while we cannot tell whether a reading is good, we can tell whether a reading is bad. At one point he maintains that "it is possible to reach an agreement, if not about the meanings that a text encourages, at least about those that a text discourages" [45]. Prima facie this is a bizarre statement. How could we possibly be able to identify errors without at once identifying nonerrors? How could we recognize evidence against one reading without at once recognizing evidence for another reading? Eco supports his view by reference to Karl Popper's falsificationist philosophy of science. He accepts "a sort of Popper-like principle according to which if there are not rules that help to ascertain which interpretations are the 'best ones,' there is at least a rule for ascertaining which ones are 'bad"' [60]. Popper's views on disconfirmation are certainly respectable and well respected. But they are highly problematic even in the physical sciences, and certainly in the humanities. Popper is of course correct about a logical point: the falsity of a conclusion implies the falsity of the premise, while the truth of a conclusion does not imply the truth of the premise. The problem is that negative results can be accommodated by complicating the theory in question. And to make matters worse, it is not always easy to tell if conclusions have or have not proven false-especially in such fuzzy areas as literary interpretation (a point made for the relatively nonfuzzy physical sciences as early as 1946 by A. J. Ayer [38]). The situation is not hopeless. But falsificationism does not provide a sure solution to the problems of interpretation. As in any other field, we must consider a combination of factors: to what extent the data seem consistent with the theory or interpretation, how elegant the theory/interpretation is, how consistent it is with more general principles in linguistics, cognitive science, or other relevant fields, and so on. (For a developed criticism of falsificationism, see Grunbaum, "Falsifiability.") When we consider these factors, we can decide (tentatively) what readings are good just as easily as we can decide (also tentatively) what readings are bad.

This mention of coherence with more general principles of linguistics and cognitive science brings me to my final and most serious criticisms of Eco, criticisms that relate to

theoretical value, formalizations that are more like translations than theoretical develop- ments. More typically, and more importantly, the problem is apparent in Eco's failure to question certain presuppositions and thus even to consider some of the most crucial and basic issues.

The most obvious way in which Eco's work involves valueless technicalization is actually part of the semiotic project, for this project by its very nature involves taking everything that requires inference and labeling it a sign or system of signs. Thus, whenever understanding a given object involves something beyond mere perception- and that is, of course, always-Eco informs us that we are dealing with a sign. These are interesting and valuable assertions if and only if they are developed in such a way as to show that the objects termed "signs" actually partake of properties peculiar to language. Take, for example, a drunk on the stage, "a sign," Eco tells us [102]. Certainly, we make inferences about the character, even about alcoholism. But telling us that he or she is a sign implies something else as well. As a technical term, it leads us to believe that there is something more going on than mere inference. If there is not more going on, using this terminology is a form of mystification, however mild. One way of distinguishing between technical terminology and jargon or obfuscation is by linking technical terminology with specification and clarification within a theory and linkingjargon and obfuscation with the mysterious hint of such specification and clarification when these are in fact absent. Unfortunately Eco in no way indicates that there is anything more to the drunk's being a sign than our use of inference. There is no parallel here for hierarchical lexical structuration, syntactic marking, allomorphy, or any other linguistic indicator.

One could identify numerous instances of pointless formalization and errors or obscurities in the presentation of theories (particularly from Anglo-American philoso- phy), but I would like to raise other, more controversial objections. For example, Eco insists that, while we cannot tell whether a reading is good, we can tell whether a reading is bad. At one point he maintains that "it is possible to reach an agreement, if not about the meanings that a text encourages, at least about those that a text discourages" [45]. Prima facie this is a bizarre statement. How could we possibly be able to identify errors without at once identifying nonerrors? How could we recognize evidence against one reading without at once recognizing evidence for another reading? Eco supports his view by reference to Karl Popper's falsificationist philosophy of science. He accepts "a sort of Popper-like principle according to which if there are not rules that help to ascertain which interpretations are the 'best ones,' there is at least a rule for ascertaining which ones are 'bad"' [60]. Popper's views on disconfirmation are certainly respectable and well respected. But they are highly problematic even in the physical sciences, and certainly in the humanities. Popper is of course correct about a logical point: the falsity of a conclusion implies the falsity of the premise, while the truth of a conclusion does not imply the truth of the premise. The problem is that negative results can be accommodated by complicating the theory in question. And to make matters worse, it is not always easy to tell if conclusions have or have not proven false-especially in such fuzzy areas as literary interpretation (a point made for the relatively nonfuzzy physical sciences as early as 1946 by A. J. Ayer [38]). The situation is not hopeless. But falsificationism does not provide a sure solution to the problems of interpretation. As in any other field, we must consider a combination of factors: to what extent the data seem consistent with the theory or interpretation, how elegant the theory/interpretation is, how consistent it is with more general principles in linguistics, cognitive science, or other relevant fields, and so on. (For a developed criticism of falsificationism, see Grunbaum, "Falsifiability.") When we consider these factors, we can decide (tentatively) what readings are good just as easily as we can decide (also tentatively) what readings are bad.

This mention of coherence with more general principles of linguistics and cognitive science brings me to my final and most serious criticisms of Eco, criticisms that relate to

theoretical value, formalizations that are more like translations than theoretical develop- ments. More typically, and more importantly, the problem is apparent in Eco's failure to question certain presuppositions and thus even to consider some of the most crucial and basic issues.

The most obvious way in which Eco's work involves valueless technicalization is actually part of the semiotic project, for this project by its very nature involves taking everything that requires inference and labeling it a sign or system of signs. Thus, whenever understanding a given object involves something beyond mere perception- and that is, of course, always-Eco informs us that we are dealing with a sign. These are interesting and valuable assertions if and only if they are developed in such a way as to show that the objects termed "signs" actually partake of properties peculiar to language. Take, for example, a drunk on the stage, "a sign," Eco tells us [102]. Certainly, we make inferences about the character, even about alcoholism. But telling us that he or she is a sign implies something else as well. As a technical term, it leads us to believe that there is something more going on than mere inference. If there is not more going on, using this terminology is a form of mystification, however mild. One way of distinguishing between technical terminology and jargon or obfuscation is by linking technical terminology with specification and clarification within a theory and linkingjargon and obfuscation with the mysterious hint of such specification and clarification when these are in fact absent. Unfortunately Eco in no way indicates that there is anything more to the drunk's being a sign than our use of inference. There is no parallel here for hierarchical lexical structuration, syntactic marking, allomorphy, or any other linguistic indicator.

One could identify numerous instances of pointless formalization and errors or obscurities in the presentation of theories (particularly from Anglo-American philoso- phy), but I would like to raise other, more controversial objections. For example, Eco insists that, while we cannot tell whether a reading is good, we can tell whether a reading is bad. At one point he maintains that "it is possible to reach an agreement, if not about the meanings that a text encourages, at least about those that a text discourages" [45]. Prima facie this is a bizarre statement. How could we possibly be able to identify errors without at once identifying nonerrors? How could we recognize evidence against one reading without at once recognizing evidence for another reading? Eco supports his view by reference to Karl Popper's falsificationist philosophy of science. He accepts "a sort of Popper-like principle according to which if there are not rules that help to ascertain which interpretations are the 'best ones,' there is at least a rule for ascertaining which ones are 'bad"' [60]. Popper's views on disconfirmation are certainly respectable and well respected. But they are highly problematic even in the physical sciences, and certainly in the humanities. Popper is of course correct about a logical point: the falsity of a conclusion implies the falsity of the premise, while the truth of a conclusion does not imply the truth of the premise. The problem is that negative results can be accommodated by complicating the theory in question. And to make matters worse, it is not always easy to tell if conclusions have or have not proven false-especially in such fuzzy areas as literary interpretation (a point made for the relatively nonfuzzy physical sciences as early as 1946 by A. J. Ayer [38]). The situation is not hopeless. But falsificationism does not provide a sure solution to the problems of interpretation. As in any other field, we must consider a combination of factors: to what extent the data seem consistent with the theory or interpretation, how elegant the theory/interpretation is, how consistent it is with more general principles in linguistics, cognitive science, or other relevant fields, and so on. (For a developed criticism of falsificationism, see Grunbaum, "Falsifiability.") When we consider these factors, we can decide (tentatively) what readings are good just as easily as we can decide (also tentatively) what readings are bad.

This mention of coherence with more general principles of linguistics and cognitive science brings me to my final and most serious criticisms of Eco, criticisms that relate to

theoretical value, formalizations that are more like translations than theoretical develop- ments. More typically, and more importantly, the problem is apparent in Eco's failure to question certain presuppositions and thus even to consider some of the most crucial and basic issues.

The most obvious way in which Eco's work involves valueless technicalization is actually part of the semiotic project, for this project by its very nature involves taking everything that requires inference and labeling it a sign or system of signs. Thus, whenever understanding a given object involves something beyond mere perception- and that is, of course, always-Eco informs us that we are dealing with a sign. These are interesting and valuable assertions if and only if they are developed in such a way as to show that the objects termed "signs" actually partake of properties peculiar to language. Take, for example, a drunk on the stage, "a sign," Eco tells us [102]. Certainly, we make inferences about the character, even about alcoholism. But telling us that he or she is a sign implies something else as well. As a technical term, it leads us to believe that there is something more going on than mere inference. If there is not more going on, using this terminology is a form of mystification, however mild. One way of distinguishing between technical terminology and jargon or obfuscation is by linking technical terminology with specification and clarification within a theory and linkingjargon and obfuscation with the mysterious hint of such specification and clarification when these are in fact absent. Unfortunately Eco in no way indicates that there is anything more to the drunk's being a sign than our use of inference. There is no parallel here for hierarchical lexical structuration, syntactic marking, allomorphy, or any other linguistic indicator.

One could identify numerous instances of pointless formalization and errors or obscurities in the presentation of theories (particularly from Anglo-American philoso- phy), but I would like to raise other, more controversial objections. For example, Eco insists that, while we cannot tell whether a reading is good, we can tell whether a reading is bad. At one point he maintains that "it is possible to reach an agreement, if not about the meanings that a text encourages, at least about those that a text discourages" [45]. Prima facie this is a bizarre statement. How could we possibly be able to identify errors without at once identifying nonerrors? How could we recognize evidence against one reading without at once recognizing evidence for another reading? Eco supports his view by reference to Karl Popper's falsificationist philosophy of science. He accepts "a sort of Popper-like principle according to which if there are not rules that help to ascertain which interpretations are the 'best ones,' there is at least a rule for ascertaining which ones are 'bad"' [60]. Popper's views on disconfirmation are certainly respectable and well respected. But they are highly problematic even in the physical sciences, and certainly in the humanities. Popper is of course correct about a logical point: the falsity of a conclusion implies the falsity of the premise, while the truth of a conclusion does not imply the truth of the premise. The problem is that negative results can be accommodated by complicating the theory in question. And to make matters worse, it is not always easy to tell if conclusions have or have not proven false-especially in such fuzzy areas as literary interpretation (a point made for the relatively nonfuzzy physical sciences as early as 1946 by A. J. Ayer [38]). The situation is not hopeless. But falsificationism does not provide a sure solution to the problems of interpretation. As in any other field, we must consider a combination of factors: to what extent the data seem consistent with the theory or interpretation, how elegant the theory/interpretation is, how consistent it is with more general principles in linguistics, cognitive science, or other relevant fields, and so on. (For a developed criticism of falsificationism, see Grunbaum, "Falsifiability.") When we consider these factors, we can decide (tentatively) what readings are good just as easily as we can decide (also tentatively) what readings are bad.

This mention of coherence with more general principles of linguistics and cognitive science brings me to my final and most serious criticisms of Eco, criticisms that relate to

theoretical value, formalizations that are more like translations than theoretical develop- ments. More typically, and more importantly, the problem is apparent in Eco's failure to question certain presuppositions and thus even to consider some of the most crucial and basic issues.

The most obvious way in which Eco's work involves valueless technicalization is actually part of the semiotic project, for this project by its very nature involves taking everything that requires inference and labeling it a sign or system of signs. Thus, whenever understanding a given object involves something beyond mere perception- and that is, of course, always-Eco informs us that we are dealing with a sign. These are interesting and valuable assertions if and only if they are developed in such a way as to show that the objects termed "signs" actually partake of properties peculiar to language. Take, for example, a drunk on the stage, "a sign," Eco tells us [102]. Certainly, we make inferences about the character, even about alcoholism. But telling us that he or she is a sign implies something else as well. As a technical term, it leads us to believe that there is something more going on than mere inference. If there is not more going on, using this terminology is a form of mystification, however mild. One way of distinguishing between technical terminology and jargon or obfuscation is by linking technical terminology with specification and clarification within a theory and linkingjargon and obfuscation with the mysterious hint of such specification and clarification when these are in fact absent. Unfortunately Eco in no way indicates that there is anything more to the drunk's being a sign than our use of inference. There is no parallel here for hierarchical lexical structuration, syntactic marking, allomorphy, or any other linguistic indicator.

One could identify numerous instances of pointless formalization and errors or obscurities in the presentation of theories (particularly from Anglo-American philoso- phy), but I would like to raise other, more controversial objections. For example, Eco insists that, while we cannot tell whether a reading is good, we can tell whether a reading is bad. At one point he maintains that "it is possible to reach an agreement, if not about the meanings that a text encourages, at least about those that a text discourages" [45]. Prima facie this is a bizarre statement. How could we possibly be able to identify errors without at once identifying nonerrors? How could we recognize evidence against one reading without at once recognizing evidence for another reading? Eco supports his view by reference to Karl Popper's falsificationist philosophy of science. He accepts "a sort of Popper-like principle according to which if there are not rules that help to ascertain which interpretations are the 'best ones,' there is at least a rule for ascertaining which ones are 'bad"' [60]. Popper's views on disconfirmation are certainly respectable and well respected. But they are highly problematic even in the physical sciences, and certainly in the humanities. Popper is of course correct about a logical point: the falsity of a conclusion implies the falsity of the premise, while the truth of a conclusion does not imply the truth of the premise. The problem is that negative results can be accommodated by complicating the theory in question. And to make matters worse, it is not always easy to tell if conclusions have or have not proven false-especially in such fuzzy areas as literary interpretation (a point made for the relatively nonfuzzy physical sciences as early as 1946 by A. J. Ayer [38]). The situation is not hopeless. But falsificationism does not provide a sure solution to the problems of interpretation. As in any other field, we must consider a combination of factors: to what extent the data seem consistent with the theory or interpretation, how elegant the theory/interpretation is, how consistent it is with more general principles in linguistics, cognitive science, or other relevant fields, and so on. (For a developed criticism of falsificationism, see Grunbaum, "Falsifiability.") When we consider these factors, we can decide (tentatively) what readings are good just as easily as we can decide (also tentatively) what readings are bad.

This mention of coherence with more general principles of linguistics and cognitive science brings me to my final and most serious criticisms of Eco, criticisms that relate to

theoretical value, formalizations that are more like translations than theoretical develop- ments. More typically, and more importantly, the problem is apparent in Eco's failure to question certain presuppositions and thus even to consider some of the most crucial and basic issues.

The most obvious way in which Eco's work involves valueless technicalization is actually part of the semiotic project, for this project by its very nature involves taking everything that requires inference and labeling it a sign or system of signs. Thus, whenever understanding a given object involves something beyond mere perception- and that is, of course, always-Eco informs us that we are dealing with a sign. These are interesting and valuable assertions if and only if they are developed in such a way as to show that the objects termed "signs" actually partake of properties peculiar to language. Take, for example, a drunk on the stage, "a sign," Eco tells us [102]. Certainly, we make inferences about the character, even about alcoholism. But telling us that he or she is a sign implies something else as well. As a technical term, it leads us to believe that there is something more going on than mere inference. If there is not more going on, using this terminology is a form of mystification, however mild. One way of distinguishing between technical terminology and jargon or obfuscation is by linking technical terminology with specification and clarification within a theory and linkingjargon and obfuscation with the mysterious hint of such specification and clarification when these are in fact absent. Unfortunately Eco in no way indicates that there is anything more to the drunk's being a sign than our use of inference. There is no parallel here for hierarchical lexical structuration, syntactic marking, allomorphy, or any other linguistic indicator.

One could identify numerous instances of pointless formalization and errors or obscurities in the presentation of theories (particularly from Anglo-American philoso- phy), but I would like to raise other, more controversial objections. For example, Eco insists that, while we cannot tell whether a reading is good, we can tell whether a reading is bad. At one point he maintains that "it is possible to reach an agreement, if not about the meanings that a text encourages, at least about those that a text discourages" [45]. Prima facie this is a bizarre statement. How could we possibly be able to identify errors without at once identifying nonerrors? How could we recognize evidence against one reading without at once recognizing evidence for another reading? Eco supports his view by reference to Karl Popper's falsificationist philosophy of science. He accepts "a sort of Popper-like principle according to which if there are not rules that help to ascertain which interpretations are the 'best ones,' there is at least a rule for ascertaining which ones are 'bad"' [60]. Popper's views on disconfirmation are certainly respectable and well respected. But they are highly problematic even in the physical sciences, and certainly in the humanities. Popper is of course correct about a logical point: the falsity of a conclusion implies the falsity of the premise, while the truth of a conclusion does not imply the truth of the premise. The problem is that negative results can be accommodated by complicating the theory in question. And to make matters worse, it is not always easy to tell if conclusions have or have not proven false-especially in such fuzzy areas as literary interpretation (a point made for the relatively nonfuzzy physical sciences as early as 1946 by A. J. Ayer [38]). The situation is not hopeless. But falsificationism does not provide a sure solution to the problems of interpretation. As in any other field, we must consider a combination of factors: to what extent the data seem consistent with the theory or interpretation, how elegant the theory/interpretation is, how consistent it is with more general principles in linguistics, cognitive science, or other relevant fields, and so on. (For a developed criticism of falsificationism, see Grunbaum, "Falsifiability.") When we consider these factors, we can decide (tentatively) what readings are good just as easily as we can decide (also tentatively) what readings are bad.

This mention of coherence with more general principles of linguistics and cognitive science brings me to my final and most serious criticisms of Eco, criticisms that relate to

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Page 6: The Limits of Semiotics

fundamental principles of his work and not merely to his appropriation of other theorists. The first concerns the ontological status of language; the second concerns the nature of meaning, or, more properly, whether or not there is such a nature. Specifically, though there are exceptions, such as Jerrold Katz, most linguists today repudiate the idea of language as an autonomous entity. The most famous and influential arguments against the positing of some sort of language over and above idiolect have been made by Noam Chomsky. As Chomsky puts it, "a person's language should be defined" in terms of "the grammar represented in his/her mind" and "if one wants to try to reconstruct" the "vague everyday notion of language," this "should be explained in terms of the real systems represented in the minds of individuals [i.e. idiolects] and similarities among these" [Rules 120]. Elsewhere, he explains that "E-language," which is to say, autonomous or nonidiolectal language, "was the object of study in most of traditional or structuralist grammar or behavioral psychology" but it "is now regarded as an epiphenomenon at best" [Knowledge 25]. Some writers from such non-Chomskyan fields as sociolinguistics and discourse analysis concur. For example, R. A. Hudson points out in his introduction to sociolinguistics that "society consists of individuals," and thus "both sociologists and sociolinguists would agree that it is essential to keep the individual firmly in the centre of interest." Indeed, "we can be sure that no two speakers have the same language" [12]. In other words, autonomous language and dialects, or, more generally, "varieties" of language "do not exist"; rather, "[a]ll that exists are individuals and [idiolectal] items" [40].

Developing and extending the arguments of Chomsky and others, we might isolate three primary or historically dominant nonidiolectal conceptions of meaning: (1) idealist, (2) social, and (3) referential essentialist. Idealist theoreticians understand language to exist in complete independence from speakers. A writer is idealist if he or she sees meaning as, for example, the product of an autonomous system of linguistic differences (as maintained by most followers of de Saussure [see, for example, Merleau-Ponty 85]) or as existing in a Platonic realm of ideas (as maintained by Jerrold Katz). Theorists adopting the social view conceive of meaning as the residue of communal practices or otherwise as a supra-idiolectal, social event or construct. Michael Dummett articulates the most general social position when he asserts that "the notion of idiolect.. . needs to be explained in terms of the notion of a shared language, and not conversely" [135]. According to referential essentialists, the meanings of referential terms are normatively determined by the essences of the referents of these terms. In this view, the real meaning of, say, "water" is determined by what water "really is" [see, for example, Kripke]. Aristotle implicitly advocated this view when he wrote that a "definition is a phrase signifying a thing's essence" [169].

Though I must defer a thorough treatment of these positions,' the difficulties with all such views are easily summarized. The first problem in each case is the following: everyone accepts idiolects. Therefore, if idiolects explain all the relevant data, there is no need to posit autonomous systemic language, social meaning, referential essences, or any other such nonmental and nonphysical entities. And, in fact, all the data are explicable by reference to idiolects alone. For example, suppose we wish to explain certain grammatical rules of English, such as the rules governing plural formation. We might invoke an autonomous system of linguistic principles, or we might look to an idiolect- independent social language. But, in fact, we can explain these rules fully as principles common across a certain set of idiolects. Thus we might say that "add [z] following voiced nonsibilants" is a rule with a Platonic existence, or with a supra-individual, social

1. The views I urge here and below are developed at length in a work in progress, The Discipline of Interpretation: Meaning and Method in Law, Psychoanalysis, and Literature. Some are treated briefly in The Politics of Interpretation.

fundamental principles of his work and not merely to his appropriation of other theorists. The first concerns the ontological status of language; the second concerns the nature of meaning, or, more properly, whether or not there is such a nature. Specifically, though there are exceptions, such as Jerrold Katz, most linguists today repudiate the idea of language as an autonomous entity. The most famous and influential arguments against the positing of some sort of language over and above idiolect have been made by Noam Chomsky. As Chomsky puts it, "a person's language should be defined" in terms of "the grammar represented in his/her mind" and "if one wants to try to reconstruct" the "vague everyday notion of language," this "should be explained in terms of the real systems represented in the minds of individuals [i.e. idiolects] and similarities among these" [Rules 120]. Elsewhere, he explains that "E-language," which is to say, autonomous or nonidiolectal language, "was the object of study in most of traditional or structuralist grammar or behavioral psychology" but it "is now regarded as an epiphenomenon at best" [Knowledge 25]. Some writers from such non-Chomskyan fields as sociolinguistics and discourse analysis concur. For example, R. A. Hudson points out in his introduction to sociolinguistics that "society consists of individuals," and thus "both sociologists and sociolinguists would agree that it is essential to keep the individual firmly in the centre of interest." Indeed, "we can be sure that no two speakers have the same language" [12]. In other words, autonomous language and dialects, or, more generally, "varieties" of language "do not exist"; rather, "[a]ll that exists are individuals and [idiolectal] items" [40].

Developing and extending the arguments of Chomsky and others, we might isolate three primary or historically dominant nonidiolectal conceptions of meaning: (1) idealist, (2) social, and (3) referential essentialist. Idealist theoreticians understand language to exist in complete independence from speakers. A writer is idealist if he or she sees meaning as, for example, the product of an autonomous system of linguistic differences (as maintained by most followers of de Saussure [see, for example, Merleau-Ponty 85]) or as existing in a Platonic realm of ideas (as maintained by Jerrold Katz). Theorists adopting the social view conceive of meaning as the residue of communal practices or otherwise as a supra-idiolectal, social event or construct. Michael Dummett articulates the most general social position when he asserts that "the notion of idiolect.. . needs to be explained in terms of the notion of a shared language, and not conversely" [135]. According to referential essentialists, the meanings of referential terms are normatively determined by the essences of the referents of these terms. In this view, the real meaning of, say, "water" is determined by what water "really is" [see, for example, Kripke]. Aristotle implicitly advocated this view when he wrote that a "definition is a phrase signifying a thing's essence" [169].

Though I must defer a thorough treatment of these positions,' the difficulties with all such views are easily summarized. The first problem in each case is the following: everyone accepts idiolects. Therefore, if idiolects explain all the relevant data, there is no need to posit autonomous systemic language, social meaning, referential essences, or any other such nonmental and nonphysical entities. And, in fact, all the data are explicable by reference to idiolects alone. For example, suppose we wish to explain certain grammatical rules of English, such as the rules governing plural formation. We might invoke an autonomous system of linguistic principles, or we might look to an idiolect- independent social language. But, in fact, we can explain these rules fully as principles common across a certain set of idiolects. Thus we might say that "add [z] following voiced nonsibilants" is a rule with a Platonic existence, or with a supra-individual, social

1. The views I urge here and below are developed at length in a work in progress, The Discipline of Interpretation: Meaning and Method in Law, Psychoanalysis, and Literature. Some are treated briefly in The Politics of Interpretation.

fundamental principles of his work and not merely to his appropriation of other theorists. The first concerns the ontological status of language; the second concerns the nature of meaning, or, more properly, whether or not there is such a nature. Specifically, though there are exceptions, such as Jerrold Katz, most linguists today repudiate the idea of language as an autonomous entity. The most famous and influential arguments against the positing of some sort of language over and above idiolect have been made by Noam Chomsky. As Chomsky puts it, "a person's language should be defined" in terms of "the grammar represented in his/her mind" and "if one wants to try to reconstruct" the "vague everyday notion of language," this "should be explained in terms of the real systems represented in the minds of individuals [i.e. idiolects] and similarities among these" [Rules 120]. Elsewhere, he explains that "E-language," which is to say, autonomous or nonidiolectal language, "was the object of study in most of traditional or structuralist grammar or behavioral psychology" but it "is now regarded as an epiphenomenon at best" [Knowledge 25]. Some writers from such non-Chomskyan fields as sociolinguistics and discourse analysis concur. For example, R. A. Hudson points out in his introduction to sociolinguistics that "society consists of individuals," and thus "both sociologists and sociolinguists would agree that it is essential to keep the individual firmly in the centre of interest." Indeed, "we can be sure that no two speakers have the same language" [12]. In other words, autonomous language and dialects, or, more generally, "varieties" of language "do not exist"; rather, "[a]ll that exists are individuals and [idiolectal] items" [40].

Developing and extending the arguments of Chomsky and others, we might isolate three primary or historically dominant nonidiolectal conceptions of meaning: (1) idealist, (2) social, and (3) referential essentialist. Idealist theoreticians understand language to exist in complete independence from speakers. A writer is idealist if he or she sees meaning as, for example, the product of an autonomous system of linguistic differences (as maintained by most followers of de Saussure [see, for example, Merleau-Ponty 85]) or as existing in a Platonic realm of ideas (as maintained by Jerrold Katz). Theorists adopting the social view conceive of meaning as the residue of communal practices or otherwise as a supra-idiolectal, social event or construct. Michael Dummett articulates the most general social position when he asserts that "the notion of idiolect.. . needs to be explained in terms of the notion of a shared language, and not conversely" [135]. According to referential essentialists, the meanings of referential terms are normatively determined by the essences of the referents of these terms. In this view, the real meaning of, say, "water" is determined by what water "really is" [see, for example, Kripke]. Aristotle implicitly advocated this view when he wrote that a "definition is a phrase signifying a thing's essence" [169].

Though I must defer a thorough treatment of these positions,' the difficulties with all such views are easily summarized. The first problem in each case is the following: everyone accepts idiolects. Therefore, if idiolects explain all the relevant data, there is no need to posit autonomous systemic language, social meaning, referential essences, or any other such nonmental and nonphysical entities. And, in fact, all the data are explicable by reference to idiolects alone. For example, suppose we wish to explain certain grammatical rules of English, such as the rules governing plural formation. We might invoke an autonomous system of linguistic principles, or we might look to an idiolect- independent social language. But, in fact, we can explain these rules fully as principles common across a certain set of idiolects. Thus we might say that "add [z] following voiced nonsibilants" is a rule with a Platonic existence, or with a supra-individual, social

1. The views I urge here and below are developed at length in a work in progress, The Discipline of Interpretation: Meaning and Method in Law, Psychoanalysis, and Literature. Some are treated briefly in The Politics of Interpretation.

fundamental principles of his work and not merely to his appropriation of other theorists. The first concerns the ontological status of language; the second concerns the nature of meaning, or, more properly, whether or not there is such a nature. Specifically, though there are exceptions, such as Jerrold Katz, most linguists today repudiate the idea of language as an autonomous entity. The most famous and influential arguments against the positing of some sort of language over and above idiolect have been made by Noam Chomsky. As Chomsky puts it, "a person's language should be defined" in terms of "the grammar represented in his/her mind" and "if one wants to try to reconstruct" the "vague everyday notion of language," this "should be explained in terms of the real systems represented in the minds of individuals [i.e. idiolects] and similarities among these" [Rules 120]. Elsewhere, he explains that "E-language," which is to say, autonomous or nonidiolectal language, "was the object of study in most of traditional or structuralist grammar or behavioral psychology" but it "is now regarded as an epiphenomenon at best" [Knowledge 25]. Some writers from such non-Chomskyan fields as sociolinguistics and discourse analysis concur. For example, R. A. Hudson points out in his introduction to sociolinguistics that "society consists of individuals," and thus "both sociologists and sociolinguists would agree that it is essential to keep the individual firmly in the centre of interest." Indeed, "we can be sure that no two speakers have the same language" [12]. In other words, autonomous language and dialects, or, more generally, "varieties" of language "do not exist"; rather, "[a]ll that exists are individuals and [idiolectal] items" [40].

Developing and extending the arguments of Chomsky and others, we might isolate three primary or historically dominant nonidiolectal conceptions of meaning: (1) idealist, (2) social, and (3) referential essentialist. Idealist theoreticians understand language to exist in complete independence from speakers. A writer is idealist if he or she sees meaning as, for example, the product of an autonomous system of linguistic differences (as maintained by most followers of de Saussure [see, for example, Merleau-Ponty 85]) or as existing in a Platonic realm of ideas (as maintained by Jerrold Katz). Theorists adopting the social view conceive of meaning as the residue of communal practices or otherwise as a supra-idiolectal, social event or construct. Michael Dummett articulates the most general social position when he asserts that "the notion of idiolect.. . needs to be explained in terms of the notion of a shared language, and not conversely" [135]. According to referential essentialists, the meanings of referential terms are normatively determined by the essences of the referents of these terms. In this view, the real meaning of, say, "water" is determined by what water "really is" [see, for example, Kripke]. Aristotle implicitly advocated this view when he wrote that a "definition is a phrase signifying a thing's essence" [169].

Though I must defer a thorough treatment of these positions,' the difficulties with all such views are easily summarized. The first problem in each case is the following: everyone accepts idiolects. Therefore, if idiolects explain all the relevant data, there is no need to posit autonomous systemic language, social meaning, referential essences, or any other such nonmental and nonphysical entities. And, in fact, all the data are explicable by reference to idiolects alone. For example, suppose we wish to explain certain grammatical rules of English, such as the rules governing plural formation. We might invoke an autonomous system of linguistic principles, or we might look to an idiolect- independent social language. But, in fact, we can explain these rules fully as principles common across a certain set of idiolects. Thus we might say that "add [z] following voiced nonsibilants" is a rule with a Platonic existence, or with a supra-individual, social

1. The views I urge here and below are developed at length in a work in progress, The Discipline of Interpretation: Meaning and Method in Law, Psychoanalysis, and Literature. Some are treated briefly in The Politics of Interpretation.

fundamental principles of his work and not merely to his appropriation of other theorists. The first concerns the ontological status of language; the second concerns the nature of meaning, or, more properly, whether or not there is such a nature. Specifically, though there are exceptions, such as Jerrold Katz, most linguists today repudiate the idea of language as an autonomous entity. The most famous and influential arguments against the positing of some sort of language over and above idiolect have been made by Noam Chomsky. As Chomsky puts it, "a person's language should be defined" in terms of "the grammar represented in his/her mind" and "if one wants to try to reconstruct" the "vague everyday notion of language," this "should be explained in terms of the real systems represented in the minds of individuals [i.e. idiolects] and similarities among these" [Rules 120]. Elsewhere, he explains that "E-language," which is to say, autonomous or nonidiolectal language, "was the object of study in most of traditional or structuralist grammar or behavioral psychology" but it "is now regarded as an epiphenomenon at best" [Knowledge 25]. Some writers from such non-Chomskyan fields as sociolinguistics and discourse analysis concur. For example, R. A. Hudson points out in his introduction to sociolinguistics that "society consists of individuals," and thus "both sociologists and sociolinguists would agree that it is essential to keep the individual firmly in the centre of interest." Indeed, "we can be sure that no two speakers have the same language" [12]. In other words, autonomous language and dialects, or, more generally, "varieties" of language "do not exist"; rather, "[a]ll that exists are individuals and [idiolectal] items" [40].

Developing and extending the arguments of Chomsky and others, we might isolate three primary or historically dominant nonidiolectal conceptions of meaning: (1) idealist, (2) social, and (3) referential essentialist. Idealist theoreticians understand language to exist in complete independence from speakers. A writer is idealist if he or she sees meaning as, for example, the product of an autonomous system of linguistic differences (as maintained by most followers of de Saussure [see, for example, Merleau-Ponty 85]) or as existing in a Platonic realm of ideas (as maintained by Jerrold Katz). Theorists adopting the social view conceive of meaning as the residue of communal practices or otherwise as a supra-idiolectal, social event or construct. Michael Dummett articulates the most general social position when he asserts that "the notion of idiolect.. . needs to be explained in terms of the notion of a shared language, and not conversely" [135]. According to referential essentialists, the meanings of referential terms are normatively determined by the essences of the referents of these terms. In this view, the real meaning of, say, "water" is determined by what water "really is" [see, for example, Kripke]. Aristotle implicitly advocated this view when he wrote that a "definition is a phrase signifying a thing's essence" [169].

Though I must defer a thorough treatment of these positions,' the difficulties with all such views are easily summarized. The first problem in each case is the following: everyone accepts idiolects. Therefore, if idiolects explain all the relevant data, there is no need to posit autonomous systemic language, social meaning, referential essences, or any other such nonmental and nonphysical entities. And, in fact, all the data are explicable by reference to idiolects alone. For example, suppose we wish to explain certain grammatical rules of English, such as the rules governing plural formation. We might invoke an autonomous system of linguistic principles, or we might look to an idiolect- independent social language. But, in fact, we can explain these rules fully as principles common across a certain set of idiolects. Thus we might say that "add [z] following voiced nonsibilants" is a rule with a Platonic existence, or with a supra-individual, social

1. The views I urge here and below are developed at length in a work in progress, The Discipline of Interpretation: Meaning and Method in Law, Psychoanalysis, and Literature. Some are treated briefly in The Politics of Interpretation.

fundamental principles of his work and not merely to his appropriation of other theorists. The first concerns the ontological status of language; the second concerns the nature of meaning, or, more properly, whether or not there is such a nature. Specifically, though there are exceptions, such as Jerrold Katz, most linguists today repudiate the idea of language as an autonomous entity. The most famous and influential arguments against the positing of some sort of language over and above idiolect have been made by Noam Chomsky. As Chomsky puts it, "a person's language should be defined" in terms of "the grammar represented in his/her mind" and "if one wants to try to reconstruct" the "vague everyday notion of language," this "should be explained in terms of the real systems represented in the minds of individuals [i.e. idiolects] and similarities among these" [Rules 120]. Elsewhere, he explains that "E-language," which is to say, autonomous or nonidiolectal language, "was the object of study in most of traditional or structuralist grammar or behavioral psychology" but it "is now regarded as an epiphenomenon at best" [Knowledge 25]. Some writers from such non-Chomskyan fields as sociolinguistics and discourse analysis concur. For example, R. A. Hudson points out in his introduction to sociolinguistics that "society consists of individuals," and thus "both sociologists and sociolinguists would agree that it is essential to keep the individual firmly in the centre of interest." Indeed, "we can be sure that no two speakers have the same language" [12]. In other words, autonomous language and dialects, or, more generally, "varieties" of language "do not exist"; rather, "[a]ll that exists are individuals and [idiolectal] items" [40].

Developing and extending the arguments of Chomsky and others, we might isolate three primary or historically dominant nonidiolectal conceptions of meaning: (1) idealist, (2) social, and (3) referential essentialist. Idealist theoreticians understand language to exist in complete independence from speakers. A writer is idealist if he or she sees meaning as, for example, the product of an autonomous system of linguistic differences (as maintained by most followers of de Saussure [see, for example, Merleau-Ponty 85]) or as existing in a Platonic realm of ideas (as maintained by Jerrold Katz). Theorists adopting the social view conceive of meaning as the residue of communal practices or otherwise as a supra-idiolectal, social event or construct. Michael Dummett articulates the most general social position when he asserts that "the notion of idiolect.. . needs to be explained in terms of the notion of a shared language, and not conversely" [135]. According to referential essentialists, the meanings of referential terms are normatively determined by the essences of the referents of these terms. In this view, the real meaning of, say, "water" is determined by what water "really is" [see, for example, Kripke]. Aristotle implicitly advocated this view when he wrote that a "definition is a phrase signifying a thing's essence" [169].

Though I must defer a thorough treatment of these positions,' the difficulties with all such views are easily summarized. The first problem in each case is the following: everyone accepts idiolects. Therefore, if idiolects explain all the relevant data, there is no need to posit autonomous systemic language, social meaning, referential essences, or any other such nonmental and nonphysical entities. And, in fact, all the data are explicable by reference to idiolects alone. For example, suppose we wish to explain certain grammatical rules of English, such as the rules governing plural formation. We might invoke an autonomous system of linguistic principles, or we might look to an idiolect- independent social language. But, in fact, we can explain these rules fully as principles common across a certain set of idiolects. Thus we might say that "add [z] following voiced nonsibilants" is a rule with a Platonic existence, or with a supra-individual, social

1. The views I urge here and below are developed at length in a work in progress, The Discipline of Interpretation: Meaning and Method in Law, Psychoanalysis, and Literature. Some are treated briefly in The Politics of Interpretation.

fundamental principles of his work and not merely to his appropriation of other theorists. The first concerns the ontological status of language; the second concerns the nature of meaning, or, more properly, whether or not there is such a nature. Specifically, though there are exceptions, such as Jerrold Katz, most linguists today repudiate the idea of language as an autonomous entity. The most famous and influential arguments against the positing of some sort of language over and above idiolect have been made by Noam Chomsky. As Chomsky puts it, "a person's language should be defined" in terms of "the grammar represented in his/her mind" and "if one wants to try to reconstruct" the "vague everyday notion of language," this "should be explained in terms of the real systems represented in the minds of individuals [i.e. idiolects] and similarities among these" [Rules 120]. Elsewhere, he explains that "E-language," which is to say, autonomous or nonidiolectal language, "was the object of study in most of traditional or structuralist grammar or behavioral psychology" but it "is now regarded as an epiphenomenon at best" [Knowledge 25]. Some writers from such non-Chomskyan fields as sociolinguistics and discourse analysis concur. For example, R. A. Hudson points out in his introduction to sociolinguistics that "society consists of individuals," and thus "both sociologists and sociolinguists would agree that it is essential to keep the individual firmly in the centre of interest." Indeed, "we can be sure that no two speakers have the same language" [12]. In other words, autonomous language and dialects, or, more generally, "varieties" of language "do not exist"; rather, "[a]ll that exists are individuals and [idiolectal] items" [40].

Developing and extending the arguments of Chomsky and others, we might isolate three primary or historically dominant nonidiolectal conceptions of meaning: (1) idealist, (2) social, and (3) referential essentialist. Idealist theoreticians understand language to exist in complete independence from speakers. A writer is idealist if he or she sees meaning as, for example, the product of an autonomous system of linguistic differences (as maintained by most followers of de Saussure [see, for example, Merleau-Ponty 85]) or as existing in a Platonic realm of ideas (as maintained by Jerrold Katz). Theorists adopting the social view conceive of meaning as the residue of communal practices or otherwise as a supra-idiolectal, social event or construct. Michael Dummett articulates the most general social position when he asserts that "the notion of idiolect.. . needs to be explained in terms of the notion of a shared language, and not conversely" [135]. According to referential essentialists, the meanings of referential terms are normatively determined by the essences of the referents of these terms. In this view, the real meaning of, say, "water" is determined by what water "really is" [see, for example, Kripke]. Aristotle implicitly advocated this view when he wrote that a "definition is a phrase signifying a thing's essence" [169].

Though I must defer a thorough treatment of these positions,' the difficulties with all such views are easily summarized. The first problem in each case is the following: everyone accepts idiolects. Therefore, if idiolects explain all the relevant data, there is no need to posit autonomous systemic language, social meaning, referential essences, or any other such nonmental and nonphysical entities. And, in fact, all the data are explicable by reference to idiolects alone. For example, suppose we wish to explain certain grammatical rules of English, such as the rules governing plural formation. We might invoke an autonomous system of linguistic principles, or we might look to an idiolect- independent social language. But, in fact, we can explain these rules fully as principles common across a certain set of idiolects. Thus we might say that "add [z] following voiced nonsibilants" is a rule with a Platonic existence, or with a supra-individual, social

1. The views I urge here and below are developed at length in a work in progress, The Discipline of Interpretation: Meaning and Method in Law, Psychoanalysis, and Literature. Some are treated briefly in The Politics of Interpretation.

86 86 86 86 86 86 86

This content downloaded from 128.235.251.160 on Mon, 8 Dec 2014 09:17:56 AMAll use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions

Page 7: The Limits of Semiotics

existence. However, we all agree that the rule has an idiolectal existence. And, as it turns out, that fact explains all the relevant data-how we acquire, understand, and use

plurals-thus rendering idealist, social, and referential essentialist alternatives redun- dant.

The second problem with all of these views is that the precise nature of the object they posit is unclear. Moreover, it is unclear how we might ever gain access to such an object. Suppose that we could not give an adequate idiolectal explanation of, say, the meaning of "dog"; what would it mean to say that the meaning of "dog" is social? What could a social meaning be, if not merely an abstraction from a set of idiolectal meanings? And if there is some sort of meaning other than idiolectal meanings, how could we possibly find out what it might be? We know how to infer psychological entities (such as idiolectal meanings), and we know how to infer physical entities. But nonidiolectal meanings are, by definition, not psychological; nor are they physical. In fact, we have no good idea of what they might be, and for this reason we have no good idea of how we might infer them.

Thus it would appear that nonidiolectal meanings are unnecessary, which is to say ontologically excessive, and unintelligible, which is to say epistemologically opaque. In other words, we don't need them, and even if we did, they wouldn't help.

The concept of referential essentialism, however, raises a more general issue-that of semantic essentialism-and this is worth addressing in greater detail. Semantic essentialism is the view that there is aim-independent normative force to definition or, more bluntly, that there is something that meaning "really is." (Referential essentialism goes beyond this to say that the meaning of a term "really is" what its object "really is"; referential essentialism is a specific form of semantic essentialism.) This brings me to my second general point. I have argued elsewhere that essentialist "What is... ?" questions in principle have no true or false answers [see Politics 16-17]. Specifically, referential terms, such as "meaning," have both a definition and an extension (a set of objects to which they are used to refer). "What is ... ?" questions ask about the "true" extension and/or definition of such terms. But an extension can be judged only relative to a definition and vice versa. We can judge whether or not Spot is a dog only by referring to some general definitional criteria for dogness; and we can judge whether or not our definition of "dog" is correct only by referring to its aptness in the cases of Spot, Rover, and so on. Neither a definition nor an extension can be simply and absolutely "right." Thus one or the other, or some further criterion for determining one or the other, has to be stipulated. Thus we might stipulate common usage, or common usage modified by some general principles of biology, etymology, or something else, as determinative of our definition and/or extension for "dog." But we cannot decide that one of these stipulations is right and the others are not, for there is no fact there to be right about. Facts enter the picture only subsequent to stipulation. Once we have stipulated the objects constituting an extension, there are facts about what properties these objects have in common. But there are hardly facts about common properties when there are no objects. Similarly, once we have stipulated definitional criteria, there are facts about which objects do or do not satisfy these criteria. But there are hardly facts about satisfaction when there are no criteria.

Unsurprisingly, the same condition holds for "meaning." There is and can be nothing that meaning "really is." Arguments against idealist, social, and referential essentialist views or "theories" of meaning do not indicate that meaning "really is" idiolectal. Rather, they indicate that certain entities are theoretically redundant (that is, probably do not exist) and are, in addition, conceptually obscure. We are free to stipulate as we wish. But, of the sorts of things we are likely to stipulate, idiolectal meanings alone appear to be theoretically plausible and well understood.

Unfortunately, Eco never adequately addresses either the issue of the ontological status of language or the issue of the nature (or lack of nature) of meaning. Thus he

existence. However, we all agree that the rule has an idiolectal existence. And, as it turns out, that fact explains all the relevant data-how we acquire, understand, and use

plurals-thus rendering idealist, social, and referential essentialist alternatives redun- dant.

The second problem with all of these views is that the precise nature of the object they posit is unclear. Moreover, it is unclear how we might ever gain access to such an object. Suppose that we could not give an adequate idiolectal explanation of, say, the meaning of "dog"; what would it mean to say that the meaning of "dog" is social? What could a social meaning be, if not merely an abstraction from a set of idiolectal meanings? And if there is some sort of meaning other than idiolectal meanings, how could we possibly find out what it might be? We know how to infer psychological entities (such as idiolectal meanings), and we know how to infer physical entities. But nonidiolectal meanings are, by definition, not psychological; nor are they physical. In fact, we have no good idea of what they might be, and for this reason we have no good idea of how we might infer them.

Thus it would appear that nonidiolectal meanings are unnecessary, which is to say ontologically excessive, and unintelligible, which is to say epistemologically opaque. In other words, we don't need them, and even if we did, they wouldn't help.

The concept of referential essentialism, however, raises a more general issue-that of semantic essentialism-and this is worth addressing in greater detail. Semantic essentialism is the view that there is aim-independent normative force to definition or, more bluntly, that there is something that meaning "really is." (Referential essentialism goes beyond this to say that the meaning of a term "really is" what its object "really is"; referential essentialism is a specific form of semantic essentialism.) This brings me to my second general point. I have argued elsewhere that essentialist "What is... ?" questions in principle have no true or false answers [see Politics 16-17]. Specifically, referential terms, such as "meaning," have both a definition and an extension (a set of objects to which they are used to refer). "What is ... ?" questions ask about the "true" extension and/or definition of such terms. But an extension can be judged only relative to a definition and vice versa. We can judge whether or not Spot is a dog only by referring to some general definitional criteria for dogness; and we can judge whether or not our definition of "dog" is correct only by referring to its aptness in the cases of Spot, Rover, and so on. Neither a definition nor an extension can be simply and absolutely "right." Thus one or the other, or some further criterion for determining one or the other, has to be stipulated. Thus we might stipulate common usage, or common usage modified by some general principles of biology, etymology, or something else, as determinative of our definition and/or extension for "dog." But we cannot decide that one of these stipulations is right and the others are not, for there is no fact there to be right about. Facts enter the picture only subsequent to stipulation. Once we have stipulated the objects constituting an extension, there are facts about what properties these objects have in common. But there are hardly facts about common properties when there are no objects. Similarly, once we have stipulated definitional criteria, there are facts about which objects do or do not satisfy these criteria. But there are hardly facts about satisfaction when there are no criteria.

Unsurprisingly, the same condition holds for "meaning." There is and can be nothing that meaning "really is." Arguments against idealist, social, and referential essentialist views or "theories" of meaning do not indicate that meaning "really is" idiolectal. Rather, they indicate that certain entities are theoretically redundant (that is, probably do not exist) and are, in addition, conceptually obscure. We are free to stipulate as we wish. But, of the sorts of things we are likely to stipulate, idiolectal meanings alone appear to be theoretically plausible and well understood.

Unfortunately, Eco never adequately addresses either the issue of the ontological status of language or the issue of the nature (or lack of nature) of meaning. Thus he

existence. However, we all agree that the rule has an idiolectal existence. And, as it turns out, that fact explains all the relevant data-how we acquire, understand, and use

plurals-thus rendering idealist, social, and referential essentialist alternatives redun- dant.

The second problem with all of these views is that the precise nature of the object they posit is unclear. Moreover, it is unclear how we might ever gain access to such an object. Suppose that we could not give an adequate idiolectal explanation of, say, the meaning of "dog"; what would it mean to say that the meaning of "dog" is social? What could a social meaning be, if not merely an abstraction from a set of idiolectal meanings? And if there is some sort of meaning other than idiolectal meanings, how could we possibly find out what it might be? We know how to infer psychological entities (such as idiolectal meanings), and we know how to infer physical entities. But nonidiolectal meanings are, by definition, not psychological; nor are they physical. In fact, we have no good idea of what they might be, and for this reason we have no good idea of how we might infer them.

Thus it would appear that nonidiolectal meanings are unnecessary, which is to say ontologically excessive, and unintelligible, which is to say epistemologically opaque. In other words, we don't need them, and even if we did, they wouldn't help.

The concept of referential essentialism, however, raises a more general issue-that of semantic essentialism-and this is worth addressing in greater detail. Semantic essentialism is the view that there is aim-independent normative force to definition or, more bluntly, that there is something that meaning "really is." (Referential essentialism goes beyond this to say that the meaning of a term "really is" what its object "really is"; referential essentialism is a specific form of semantic essentialism.) This brings me to my second general point. I have argued elsewhere that essentialist "What is... ?" questions in principle have no true or false answers [see Politics 16-17]. Specifically, referential terms, such as "meaning," have both a definition and an extension (a set of objects to which they are used to refer). "What is ... ?" questions ask about the "true" extension and/or definition of such terms. But an extension can be judged only relative to a definition and vice versa. We can judge whether or not Spot is a dog only by referring to some general definitional criteria for dogness; and we can judge whether or not our definition of "dog" is correct only by referring to its aptness in the cases of Spot, Rover, and so on. Neither a definition nor an extension can be simply and absolutely "right." Thus one or the other, or some further criterion for determining one or the other, has to be stipulated. Thus we might stipulate common usage, or common usage modified by some general principles of biology, etymology, or something else, as determinative of our definition and/or extension for "dog." But we cannot decide that one of these stipulations is right and the others are not, for there is no fact there to be right about. Facts enter the picture only subsequent to stipulation. Once we have stipulated the objects constituting an extension, there are facts about what properties these objects have in common. But there are hardly facts about common properties when there are no objects. Similarly, once we have stipulated definitional criteria, there are facts about which objects do or do not satisfy these criteria. But there are hardly facts about satisfaction when there are no criteria.

Unsurprisingly, the same condition holds for "meaning." There is and can be nothing that meaning "really is." Arguments against idealist, social, and referential essentialist views or "theories" of meaning do not indicate that meaning "really is" idiolectal. Rather, they indicate that certain entities are theoretically redundant (that is, probably do not exist) and are, in addition, conceptually obscure. We are free to stipulate as we wish. But, of the sorts of things we are likely to stipulate, idiolectal meanings alone appear to be theoretically plausible and well understood.

Unfortunately, Eco never adequately addresses either the issue of the ontological status of language or the issue of the nature (or lack of nature) of meaning. Thus he

existence. However, we all agree that the rule has an idiolectal existence. And, as it turns out, that fact explains all the relevant data-how we acquire, understand, and use

plurals-thus rendering idealist, social, and referential essentialist alternatives redun- dant.

The second problem with all of these views is that the precise nature of the object they posit is unclear. Moreover, it is unclear how we might ever gain access to such an object. Suppose that we could not give an adequate idiolectal explanation of, say, the meaning of "dog"; what would it mean to say that the meaning of "dog" is social? What could a social meaning be, if not merely an abstraction from a set of idiolectal meanings? And if there is some sort of meaning other than idiolectal meanings, how could we possibly find out what it might be? We know how to infer psychological entities (such as idiolectal meanings), and we know how to infer physical entities. But nonidiolectal meanings are, by definition, not psychological; nor are they physical. In fact, we have no good idea of what they might be, and for this reason we have no good idea of how we might infer them.

Thus it would appear that nonidiolectal meanings are unnecessary, which is to say ontologically excessive, and unintelligible, which is to say epistemologically opaque. In other words, we don't need them, and even if we did, they wouldn't help.

The concept of referential essentialism, however, raises a more general issue-that of semantic essentialism-and this is worth addressing in greater detail. Semantic essentialism is the view that there is aim-independent normative force to definition or, more bluntly, that there is something that meaning "really is." (Referential essentialism goes beyond this to say that the meaning of a term "really is" what its object "really is"; referential essentialism is a specific form of semantic essentialism.) This brings me to my second general point. I have argued elsewhere that essentialist "What is... ?" questions in principle have no true or false answers [see Politics 16-17]. Specifically, referential terms, such as "meaning," have both a definition and an extension (a set of objects to which they are used to refer). "What is ... ?" questions ask about the "true" extension and/or definition of such terms. But an extension can be judged only relative to a definition and vice versa. We can judge whether or not Spot is a dog only by referring to some general definitional criteria for dogness; and we can judge whether or not our definition of "dog" is correct only by referring to its aptness in the cases of Spot, Rover, and so on. Neither a definition nor an extension can be simply and absolutely "right." Thus one or the other, or some further criterion for determining one or the other, has to be stipulated. Thus we might stipulate common usage, or common usage modified by some general principles of biology, etymology, or something else, as determinative of our definition and/or extension for "dog." But we cannot decide that one of these stipulations is right and the others are not, for there is no fact there to be right about. Facts enter the picture only subsequent to stipulation. Once we have stipulated the objects constituting an extension, there are facts about what properties these objects have in common. But there are hardly facts about common properties when there are no objects. Similarly, once we have stipulated definitional criteria, there are facts about which objects do or do not satisfy these criteria. But there are hardly facts about satisfaction when there are no criteria.

Unsurprisingly, the same condition holds for "meaning." There is and can be nothing that meaning "really is." Arguments against idealist, social, and referential essentialist views or "theories" of meaning do not indicate that meaning "really is" idiolectal. Rather, they indicate that certain entities are theoretically redundant (that is, probably do not exist) and are, in addition, conceptually obscure. We are free to stipulate as we wish. But, of the sorts of things we are likely to stipulate, idiolectal meanings alone appear to be theoretically plausible and well understood.

Unfortunately, Eco never adequately addresses either the issue of the ontological status of language or the issue of the nature (or lack of nature) of meaning. Thus he

existence. However, we all agree that the rule has an idiolectal existence. And, as it turns out, that fact explains all the relevant data-how we acquire, understand, and use

plurals-thus rendering idealist, social, and referential essentialist alternatives redun- dant.

The second problem with all of these views is that the precise nature of the object they posit is unclear. Moreover, it is unclear how we might ever gain access to such an object. Suppose that we could not give an adequate idiolectal explanation of, say, the meaning of "dog"; what would it mean to say that the meaning of "dog" is social? What could a social meaning be, if not merely an abstraction from a set of idiolectal meanings? And if there is some sort of meaning other than idiolectal meanings, how could we possibly find out what it might be? We know how to infer psychological entities (such as idiolectal meanings), and we know how to infer physical entities. But nonidiolectal meanings are, by definition, not psychological; nor are they physical. In fact, we have no good idea of what they might be, and for this reason we have no good idea of how we might infer them.

Thus it would appear that nonidiolectal meanings are unnecessary, which is to say ontologically excessive, and unintelligible, which is to say epistemologically opaque. In other words, we don't need them, and even if we did, they wouldn't help.

The concept of referential essentialism, however, raises a more general issue-that of semantic essentialism-and this is worth addressing in greater detail. Semantic essentialism is the view that there is aim-independent normative force to definition or, more bluntly, that there is something that meaning "really is." (Referential essentialism goes beyond this to say that the meaning of a term "really is" what its object "really is"; referential essentialism is a specific form of semantic essentialism.) This brings me to my second general point. I have argued elsewhere that essentialist "What is... ?" questions in principle have no true or false answers [see Politics 16-17]. Specifically, referential terms, such as "meaning," have both a definition and an extension (a set of objects to which they are used to refer). "What is ... ?" questions ask about the "true" extension and/or definition of such terms. But an extension can be judged only relative to a definition and vice versa. We can judge whether or not Spot is a dog only by referring to some general definitional criteria for dogness; and we can judge whether or not our definition of "dog" is correct only by referring to its aptness in the cases of Spot, Rover, and so on. Neither a definition nor an extension can be simply and absolutely "right." Thus one or the other, or some further criterion for determining one or the other, has to be stipulated. Thus we might stipulate common usage, or common usage modified by some general principles of biology, etymology, or something else, as determinative of our definition and/or extension for "dog." But we cannot decide that one of these stipulations is right and the others are not, for there is no fact there to be right about. Facts enter the picture only subsequent to stipulation. Once we have stipulated the objects constituting an extension, there are facts about what properties these objects have in common. But there are hardly facts about common properties when there are no objects. Similarly, once we have stipulated definitional criteria, there are facts about which objects do or do not satisfy these criteria. But there are hardly facts about satisfaction when there are no criteria.

Unsurprisingly, the same condition holds for "meaning." There is and can be nothing that meaning "really is." Arguments against idealist, social, and referential essentialist views or "theories" of meaning do not indicate that meaning "really is" idiolectal. Rather, they indicate that certain entities are theoretically redundant (that is, probably do not exist) and are, in addition, conceptually obscure. We are free to stipulate as we wish. But, of the sorts of things we are likely to stipulate, idiolectal meanings alone appear to be theoretically plausible and well understood.

Unfortunately, Eco never adequately addresses either the issue of the ontological status of language or the issue of the nature (or lack of nature) of meaning. Thus he

existence. However, we all agree that the rule has an idiolectal existence. And, as it turns out, that fact explains all the relevant data-how we acquire, understand, and use

plurals-thus rendering idealist, social, and referential essentialist alternatives redun- dant.

The second problem with all of these views is that the precise nature of the object they posit is unclear. Moreover, it is unclear how we might ever gain access to such an object. Suppose that we could not give an adequate idiolectal explanation of, say, the meaning of "dog"; what would it mean to say that the meaning of "dog" is social? What could a social meaning be, if not merely an abstraction from a set of idiolectal meanings? And if there is some sort of meaning other than idiolectal meanings, how could we possibly find out what it might be? We know how to infer psychological entities (such as idiolectal meanings), and we know how to infer physical entities. But nonidiolectal meanings are, by definition, not psychological; nor are they physical. In fact, we have no good idea of what they might be, and for this reason we have no good idea of how we might infer them.

Thus it would appear that nonidiolectal meanings are unnecessary, which is to say ontologically excessive, and unintelligible, which is to say epistemologically opaque. In other words, we don't need them, and even if we did, they wouldn't help.

The concept of referential essentialism, however, raises a more general issue-that of semantic essentialism-and this is worth addressing in greater detail. Semantic essentialism is the view that there is aim-independent normative force to definition or, more bluntly, that there is something that meaning "really is." (Referential essentialism goes beyond this to say that the meaning of a term "really is" what its object "really is"; referential essentialism is a specific form of semantic essentialism.) This brings me to my second general point. I have argued elsewhere that essentialist "What is... ?" questions in principle have no true or false answers [see Politics 16-17]. Specifically, referential terms, such as "meaning," have both a definition and an extension (a set of objects to which they are used to refer). "What is ... ?" questions ask about the "true" extension and/or definition of such terms. But an extension can be judged only relative to a definition and vice versa. We can judge whether or not Spot is a dog only by referring to some general definitional criteria for dogness; and we can judge whether or not our definition of "dog" is correct only by referring to its aptness in the cases of Spot, Rover, and so on. Neither a definition nor an extension can be simply and absolutely "right." Thus one or the other, or some further criterion for determining one or the other, has to be stipulated. Thus we might stipulate common usage, or common usage modified by some general principles of biology, etymology, or something else, as determinative of our definition and/or extension for "dog." But we cannot decide that one of these stipulations is right and the others are not, for there is no fact there to be right about. Facts enter the picture only subsequent to stipulation. Once we have stipulated the objects constituting an extension, there are facts about what properties these objects have in common. But there are hardly facts about common properties when there are no objects. Similarly, once we have stipulated definitional criteria, there are facts about which objects do or do not satisfy these criteria. But there are hardly facts about satisfaction when there are no criteria.

Unsurprisingly, the same condition holds for "meaning." There is and can be nothing that meaning "really is." Arguments against idealist, social, and referential essentialist views or "theories" of meaning do not indicate that meaning "really is" idiolectal. Rather, they indicate that certain entities are theoretically redundant (that is, probably do not exist) and are, in addition, conceptually obscure. We are free to stipulate as we wish. But, of the sorts of things we are likely to stipulate, idiolectal meanings alone appear to be theoretically plausible and well understood.

Unfortunately, Eco never adequately addresses either the issue of the ontological status of language or the issue of the nature (or lack of nature) of meaning. Thus he

existence. However, we all agree that the rule has an idiolectal existence. And, as it turns out, that fact explains all the relevant data-how we acquire, understand, and use

plurals-thus rendering idealist, social, and referential essentialist alternatives redun- dant.

The second problem with all of these views is that the precise nature of the object they posit is unclear. Moreover, it is unclear how we might ever gain access to such an object. Suppose that we could not give an adequate idiolectal explanation of, say, the meaning of "dog"; what would it mean to say that the meaning of "dog" is social? What could a social meaning be, if not merely an abstraction from a set of idiolectal meanings? And if there is some sort of meaning other than idiolectal meanings, how could we possibly find out what it might be? We know how to infer psychological entities (such as idiolectal meanings), and we know how to infer physical entities. But nonidiolectal meanings are, by definition, not psychological; nor are they physical. In fact, we have no good idea of what they might be, and for this reason we have no good idea of how we might infer them.

Thus it would appear that nonidiolectal meanings are unnecessary, which is to say ontologically excessive, and unintelligible, which is to say epistemologically opaque. In other words, we don't need them, and even if we did, they wouldn't help.

The concept of referential essentialism, however, raises a more general issue-that of semantic essentialism-and this is worth addressing in greater detail. Semantic essentialism is the view that there is aim-independent normative force to definition or, more bluntly, that there is something that meaning "really is." (Referential essentialism goes beyond this to say that the meaning of a term "really is" what its object "really is"; referential essentialism is a specific form of semantic essentialism.) This brings me to my second general point. I have argued elsewhere that essentialist "What is... ?" questions in principle have no true or false answers [see Politics 16-17]. Specifically, referential terms, such as "meaning," have both a definition and an extension (a set of objects to which they are used to refer). "What is ... ?" questions ask about the "true" extension and/or definition of such terms. But an extension can be judged only relative to a definition and vice versa. We can judge whether or not Spot is a dog only by referring to some general definitional criteria for dogness; and we can judge whether or not our definition of "dog" is correct only by referring to its aptness in the cases of Spot, Rover, and so on. Neither a definition nor an extension can be simply and absolutely "right." Thus one or the other, or some further criterion for determining one or the other, has to be stipulated. Thus we might stipulate common usage, or common usage modified by some general principles of biology, etymology, or something else, as determinative of our definition and/or extension for "dog." But we cannot decide that one of these stipulations is right and the others are not, for there is no fact there to be right about. Facts enter the picture only subsequent to stipulation. Once we have stipulated the objects constituting an extension, there are facts about what properties these objects have in common. But there are hardly facts about common properties when there are no objects. Similarly, once we have stipulated definitional criteria, there are facts about which objects do or do not satisfy these criteria. But there are hardly facts about satisfaction when there are no criteria.

Unsurprisingly, the same condition holds for "meaning." There is and can be nothing that meaning "really is." Arguments against idealist, social, and referential essentialist views or "theories" of meaning do not indicate that meaning "really is" idiolectal. Rather, they indicate that certain entities are theoretically redundant (that is, probably do not exist) and are, in addition, conceptually obscure. We are free to stipulate as we wish. But, of the sorts of things we are likely to stipulate, idiolectal meanings alone appear to be theoretically plausible and well understood.

Unfortunately, Eco never adequately addresses either the issue of the ontological status of language or the issue of the nature (or lack of nature) of meaning. Thus he

diacritics / winter 1993 diacritics / winter 1993 diacritics / winter 1993 diacritics / winter 1993 diacritics / winter 1993 diacritics / winter 1993 diacritics / winter 1993 87 87 87 87 87 87 87

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Page 8: The Limits of Semiotics

unreflectively and tacitly adopts an essentialist view of meaning and, in his attempt to explain why interpretation is limited, seeks to spell out precisely what meaning "really" is. In doing this, he repeatedly presupposes, implicitly and vaguely, a nonidiolectal or autonomist view of language, most often of an idealist variety. Thus, for example, he repeatedly appeals to "literal meaning" as the source of limitation. But he is never really able to say what literal meaning is. Most often, he refers us to dictionaries [see, for example, 5], but this only pushes the problem back one step. Having disparaged interpretation for intention (understood in the partially narrow, partially vague sense of something about which the author is self-consciously aware), he repeatedly anthropomor- phizes language and texts in an effort to make some sense of their meaning. Thus he refers to "the text intention" [148], an opaque notion, and even attributes "rights" to "the text" [7]-presumably this is a manner of speaking, but precisely what it is a manner of speaking about is unclear. While it might seem that only people make inferences and have idiolects, Eco brands "every text" a "complex inferential mechanism" and makes "the text" into "a kind of idiolectal mechanism" [260]. Texts are the products of authorial idiolects and are open to inferences by readers. But, for precisely this reason, the idiolectal and the inferential (not to mention the mechanical) do not at all apply to texts per se; indeed, in this sense, texts per se do not exist, except as physical objects.

In a similar vein, Eco stresses that "the interpreted text imposes some constraints" [6] and repeatedly emphasizes the "contextual pressure" [21] exerted on the interpreter by the text. He writes that "a text controls and selects its own interpretations but also... its own misinterpretations" [61], a control exercised by context. But, of course, this presupposes that the meaning of the context or co-text is already fairly determinate, and this is due to the purported existence of literal meaning or "zero-degree meaning" as he sometimes calls it [36]-the same obscure, autonomist nonentity we have just been discussing. Of course, Eco could be right. Perhaps there is such a thing as nonpsychological meaning. But if Eco wishes to assert this, he has to present at least some sort of explanation of what nonpsychological "literal" meaning could possibly be, how we could have epistemic access to it, and so on. He simply does not do this.

Indeed, Eco is not even consistent in maintaining nonpsychological meaning as his standard. Thus, at certain points, he attributes meaning not to texts and dictionaries but to authors or to members of a linguistic community, confusing a number of real sorts of meaning and mixing these with the purely fantastical literal meaning-in a manner typical of many critics and theorists, for reasons we shall discuss below. For example, in judging Derrida's interpretation of Peirce, Eco establishes as a standard ofjudgement whether or not Peirce "would have been satisfied with Derrida's interpretation" [35], thereby establishing something along the lines of conscious authorial truth-conditional meaning as the object of interpretation. After a discussion of rhetorical techniques in a letter by Pliny the Younger, he makes the confusing statement that "Really Pliny the Younger (or his text) is doing things with words" [ 135]. Later, he indicates that, despite this assertion, texts cannot do things: "We must agree with Strawson... when he says that 'mentioning or referring is not something that an expression does; it is something that someone can use an expression to do"' [208].

Elsewhere he sees meaning as defined by a reader's intuition [54], thus shifting from authorial to individual readerly intent (though at the same time he identifies this intuition with an autonomist/idealist "English code"). At other times, he turs to larger commu- nities, which is to say abstractions from a number of individual readers' intents, defining literal meaning not as autonomous but as social, the meaning of "every member of a community of healthy native speakers" [36-why he chooses to exclude sick native speakers is unclear].

Eco's tendency to shift between different varieties of meaning-some real, some not-is not, I think, accidental. It is a direct result of his failure even to consider the issue

unreflectively and tacitly adopts an essentialist view of meaning and, in his attempt to explain why interpretation is limited, seeks to spell out precisely what meaning "really" is. In doing this, he repeatedly presupposes, implicitly and vaguely, a nonidiolectal or autonomist view of language, most often of an idealist variety. Thus, for example, he repeatedly appeals to "literal meaning" as the source of limitation. But he is never really able to say what literal meaning is. Most often, he refers us to dictionaries [see, for example, 5], but this only pushes the problem back one step. Having disparaged interpretation for intention (understood in the partially narrow, partially vague sense of something about which the author is self-consciously aware), he repeatedly anthropomor- phizes language and texts in an effort to make some sense of their meaning. Thus he refers to "the text intention" [148], an opaque notion, and even attributes "rights" to "the text" [7]-presumably this is a manner of speaking, but precisely what it is a manner of speaking about is unclear. While it might seem that only people make inferences and have idiolects, Eco brands "every text" a "complex inferential mechanism" and makes "the text" into "a kind of idiolectal mechanism" [260]. Texts are the products of authorial idiolects and are open to inferences by readers. But, for precisely this reason, the idiolectal and the inferential (not to mention the mechanical) do not at all apply to texts per se; indeed, in this sense, texts per se do not exist, except as physical objects.

In a similar vein, Eco stresses that "the interpreted text imposes some constraints" [6] and repeatedly emphasizes the "contextual pressure" [21] exerted on the interpreter by the text. He writes that "a text controls and selects its own interpretations but also... its own misinterpretations" [61], a control exercised by context. But, of course, this presupposes that the meaning of the context or co-text is already fairly determinate, and this is due to the purported existence of literal meaning or "zero-degree meaning" as he sometimes calls it [36]-the same obscure, autonomist nonentity we have just been discussing. Of course, Eco could be right. Perhaps there is such a thing as nonpsychological meaning. But if Eco wishes to assert this, he has to present at least some sort of explanation of what nonpsychological "literal" meaning could possibly be, how we could have epistemic access to it, and so on. He simply does not do this.

Indeed, Eco is not even consistent in maintaining nonpsychological meaning as his standard. Thus, at certain points, he attributes meaning not to texts and dictionaries but to authors or to members of a linguistic community, confusing a number of real sorts of meaning and mixing these with the purely fantastical literal meaning-in a manner typical of many critics and theorists, for reasons we shall discuss below. For example, in judging Derrida's interpretation of Peirce, Eco establishes as a standard ofjudgement whether or not Peirce "would have been satisfied with Derrida's interpretation" [35], thereby establishing something along the lines of conscious authorial truth-conditional meaning as the object of interpretation. After a discussion of rhetorical techniques in a letter by Pliny the Younger, he makes the confusing statement that "Really Pliny the Younger (or his text) is doing things with words" [ 135]. Later, he indicates that, despite this assertion, texts cannot do things: "We must agree with Strawson... when he says that 'mentioning or referring is not something that an expression does; it is something that someone can use an expression to do"' [208].

Elsewhere he sees meaning as defined by a reader's intuition [54], thus shifting from authorial to individual readerly intent (though at the same time he identifies this intuition with an autonomist/idealist "English code"). At other times, he turs to larger commu- nities, which is to say abstractions from a number of individual readers' intents, defining literal meaning not as autonomous but as social, the meaning of "every member of a community of healthy native speakers" [36-why he chooses to exclude sick native speakers is unclear].

Eco's tendency to shift between different varieties of meaning-some real, some not-is not, I think, accidental. It is a direct result of his failure even to consider the issue

unreflectively and tacitly adopts an essentialist view of meaning and, in his attempt to explain why interpretation is limited, seeks to spell out precisely what meaning "really" is. In doing this, he repeatedly presupposes, implicitly and vaguely, a nonidiolectal or autonomist view of language, most often of an idealist variety. Thus, for example, he repeatedly appeals to "literal meaning" as the source of limitation. But he is never really able to say what literal meaning is. Most often, he refers us to dictionaries [see, for example, 5], but this only pushes the problem back one step. Having disparaged interpretation for intention (understood in the partially narrow, partially vague sense of something about which the author is self-consciously aware), he repeatedly anthropomor- phizes language and texts in an effort to make some sense of their meaning. Thus he refers to "the text intention" [148], an opaque notion, and even attributes "rights" to "the text" [7]-presumably this is a manner of speaking, but precisely what it is a manner of speaking about is unclear. While it might seem that only people make inferences and have idiolects, Eco brands "every text" a "complex inferential mechanism" and makes "the text" into "a kind of idiolectal mechanism" [260]. Texts are the products of authorial idiolects and are open to inferences by readers. But, for precisely this reason, the idiolectal and the inferential (not to mention the mechanical) do not at all apply to texts per se; indeed, in this sense, texts per se do not exist, except as physical objects.

In a similar vein, Eco stresses that "the interpreted text imposes some constraints" [6] and repeatedly emphasizes the "contextual pressure" [21] exerted on the interpreter by the text. He writes that "a text controls and selects its own interpretations but also... its own misinterpretations" [61], a control exercised by context. But, of course, this presupposes that the meaning of the context or co-text is already fairly determinate, and this is due to the purported existence of literal meaning or "zero-degree meaning" as he sometimes calls it [36]-the same obscure, autonomist nonentity we have just been discussing. Of course, Eco could be right. Perhaps there is such a thing as nonpsychological meaning. But if Eco wishes to assert this, he has to present at least some sort of explanation of what nonpsychological "literal" meaning could possibly be, how we could have epistemic access to it, and so on. He simply does not do this.

Indeed, Eco is not even consistent in maintaining nonpsychological meaning as his standard. Thus, at certain points, he attributes meaning not to texts and dictionaries but to authors or to members of a linguistic community, confusing a number of real sorts of meaning and mixing these with the purely fantastical literal meaning-in a manner typical of many critics and theorists, for reasons we shall discuss below. For example, in judging Derrida's interpretation of Peirce, Eco establishes as a standard ofjudgement whether or not Peirce "would have been satisfied with Derrida's interpretation" [35], thereby establishing something along the lines of conscious authorial truth-conditional meaning as the object of interpretation. After a discussion of rhetorical techniques in a letter by Pliny the Younger, he makes the confusing statement that "Really Pliny the Younger (or his text) is doing things with words" [ 135]. Later, he indicates that, despite this assertion, texts cannot do things: "We must agree with Strawson... when he says that 'mentioning or referring is not something that an expression does; it is something that someone can use an expression to do"' [208].

Elsewhere he sees meaning as defined by a reader's intuition [54], thus shifting from authorial to individual readerly intent (though at the same time he identifies this intuition with an autonomist/idealist "English code"). At other times, he turs to larger commu- nities, which is to say abstractions from a number of individual readers' intents, defining literal meaning not as autonomous but as social, the meaning of "every member of a community of healthy native speakers" [36-why he chooses to exclude sick native speakers is unclear].

Eco's tendency to shift between different varieties of meaning-some real, some not-is not, I think, accidental. It is a direct result of his failure even to consider the issue

unreflectively and tacitly adopts an essentialist view of meaning and, in his attempt to explain why interpretation is limited, seeks to spell out precisely what meaning "really" is. In doing this, he repeatedly presupposes, implicitly and vaguely, a nonidiolectal or autonomist view of language, most often of an idealist variety. Thus, for example, he repeatedly appeals to "literal meaning" as the source of limitation. But he is never really able to say what literal meaning is. Most often, he refers us to dictionaries [see, for example, 5], but this only pushes the problem back one step. Having disparaged interpretation for intention (understood in the partially narrow, partially vague sense of something about which the author is self-consciously aware), he repeatedly anthropomor- phizes language and texts in an effort to make some sense of their meaning. Thus he refers to "the text intention" [148], an opaque notion, and even attributes "rights" to "the text" [7]-presumably this is a manner of speaking, but precisely what it is a manner of speaking about is unclear. While it might seem that only people make inferences and have idiolects, Eco brands "every text" a "complex inferential mechanism" and makes "the text" into "a kind of idiolectal mechanism" [260]. Texts are the products of authorial idiolects and are open to inferences by readers. But, for precisely this reason, the idiolectal and the inferential (not to mention the mechanical) do not at all apply to texts per se; indeed, in this sense, texts per se do not exist, except as physical objects.

In a similar vein, Eco stresses that "the interpreted text imposes some constraints" [6] and repeatedly emphasizes the "contextual pressure" [21] exerted on the interpreter by the text. He writes that "a text controls and selects its own interpretations but also... its own misinterpretations" [61], a control exercised by context. But, of course, this presupposes that the meaning of the context or co-text is already fairly determinate, and this is due to the purported existence of literal meaning or "zero-degree meaning" as he sometimes calls it [36]-the same obscure, autonomist nonentity we have just been discussing. Of course, Eco could be right. Perhaps there is such a thing as nonpsychological meaning. But if Eco wishes to assert this, he has to present at least some sort of explanation of what nonpsychological "literal" meaning could possibly be, how we could have epistemic access to it, and so on. He simply does not do this.

Indeed, Eco is not even consistent in maintaining nonpsychological meaning as his standard. Thus, at certain points, he attributes meaning not to texts and dictionaries but to authors or to members of a linguistic community, confusing a number of real sorts of meaning and mixing these with the purely fantastical literal meaning-in a manner typical of many critics and theorists, for reasons we shall discuss below. For example, in judging Derrida's interpretation of Peirce, Eco establishes as a standard ofjudgement whether or not Peirce "would have been satisfied with Derrida's interpretation" [35], thereby establishing something along the lines of conscious authorial truth-conditional meaning as the object of interpretation. After a discussion of rhetorical techniques in a letter by Pliny the Younger, he makes the confusing statement that "Really Pliny the Younger (or his text) is doing things with words" [ 135]. Later, he indicates that, despite this assertion, texts cannot do things: "We must agree with Strawson... when he says that 'mentioning or referring is not something that an expression does; it is something that someone can use an expression to do"' [208].

Elsewhere he sees meaning as defined by a reader's intuition [54], thus shifting from authorial to individual readerly intent (though at the same time he identifies this intuition with an autonomist/idealist "English code"). At other times, he turs to larger commu- nities, which is to say abstractions from a number of individual readers' intents, defining literal meaning not as autonomous but as social, the meaning of "every member of a community of healthy native speakers" [36-why he chooses to exclude sick native speakers is unclear].

Eco's tendency to shift between different varieties of meaning-some real, some not-is not, I think, accidental. It is a direct result of his failure even to consider the issue

unreflectively and tacitly adopts an essentialist view of meaning and, in his attempt to explain why interpretation is limited, seeks to spell out precisely what meaning "really" is. In doing this, he repeatedly presupposes, implicitly and vaguely, a nonidiolectal or autonomist view of language, most often of an idealist variety. Thus, for example, he repeatedly appeals to "literal meaning" as the source of limitation. But he is never really able to say what literal meaning is. Most often, he refers us to dictionaries [see, for example, 5], but this only pushes the problem back one step. Having disparaged interpretation for intention (understood in the partially narrow, partially vague sense of something about which the author is self-consciously aware), he repeatedly anthropomor- phizes language and texts in an effort to make some sense of their meaning. Thus he refers to "the text intention" [148], an opaque notion, and even attributes "rights" to "the text" [7]-presumably this is a manner of speaking, but precisely what it is a manner of speaking about is unclear. While it might seem that only people make inferences and have idiolects, Eco brands "every text" a "complex inferential mechanism" and makes "the text" into "a kind of idiolectal mechanism" [260]. Texts are the products of authorial idiolects and are open to inferences by readers. But, for precisely this reason, the idiolectal and the inferential (not to mention the mechanical) do not at all apply to texts per se; indeed, in this sense, texts per se do not exist, except as physical objects.

In a similar vein, Eco stresses that "the interpreted text imposes some constraints" [6] and repeatedly emphasizes the "contextual pressure" [21] exerted on the interpreter by the text. He writes that "a text controls and selects its own interpretations but also... its own misinterpretations" [61], a control exercised by context. But, of course, this presupposes that the meaning of the context or co-text is already fairly determinate, and this is due to the purported existence of literal meaning or "zero-degree meaning" as he sometimes calls it [36]-the same obscure, autonomist nonentity we have just been discussing. Of course, Eco could be right. Perhaps there is such a thing as nonpsychological meaning. But if Eco wishes to assert this, he has to present at least some sort of explanation of what nonpsychological "literal" meaning could possibly be, how we could have epistemic access to it, and so on. He simply does not do this.

Indeed, Eco is not even consistent in maintaining nonpsychological meaning as his standard. Thus, at certain points, he attributes meaning not to texts and dictionaries but to authors or to members of a linguistic community, confusing a number of real sorts of meaning and mixing these with the purely fantastical literal meaning-in a manner typical of many critics and theorists, for reasons we shall discuss below. For example, in judging Derrida's interpretation of Peirce, Eco establishes as a standard ofjudgement whether or not Peirce "would have been satisfied with Derrida's interpretation" [35], thereby establishing something along the lines of conscious authorial truth-conditional meaning as the object of interpretation. After a discussion of rhetorical techniques in a letter by Pliny the Younger, he makes the confusing statement that "Really Pliny the Younger (or his text) is doing things with words" [ 135]. Later, he indicates that, despite this assertion, texts cannot do things: "We must agree with Strawson... when he says that 'mentioning or referring is not something that an expression does; it is something that someone can use an expression to do"' [208].

Elsewhere he sees meaning as defined by a reader's intuition [54], thus shifting from authorial to individual readerly intent (though at the same time he identifies this intuition with an autonomist/idealist "English code"). At other times, he turs to larger commu- nities, which is to say abstractions from a number of individual readers' intents, defining literal meaning not as autonomous but as social, the meaning of "every member of a community of healthy native speakers" [36-why he chooses to exclude sick native speakers is unclear].

Eco's tendency to shift between different varieties of meaning-some real, some not-is not, I think, accidental. It is a direct result of his failure even to consider the issue

unreflectively and tacitly adopts an essentialist view of meaning and, in his attempt to explain why interpretation is limited, seeks to spell out precisely what meaning "really" is. In doing this, he repeatedly presupposes, implicitly and vaguely, a nonidiolectal or autonomist view of language, most often of an idealist variety. Thus, for example, he repeatedly appeals to "literal meaning" as the source of limitation. But he is never really able to say what literal meaning is. Most often, he refers us to dictionaries [see, for example, 5], but this only pushes the problem back one step. Having disparaged interpretation for intention (understood in the partially narrow, partially vague sense of something about which the author is self-consciously aware), he repeatedly anthropomor- phizes language and texts in an effort to make some sense of their meaning. Thus he refers to "the text intention" [148], an opaque notion, and even attributes "rights" to "the text" [7]-presumably this is a manner of speaking, but precisely what it is a manner of speaking about is unclear. While it might seem that only people make inferences and have idiolects, Eco brands "every text" a "complex inferential mechanism" and makes "the text" into "a kind of idiolectal mechanism" [260]. Texts are the products of authorial idiolects and are open to inferences by readers. But, for precisely this reason, the idiolectal and the inferential (not to mention the mechanical) do not at all apply to texts per se; indeed, in this sense, texts per se do not exist, except as physical objects.

In a similar vein, Eco stresses that "the interpreted text imposes some constraints" [6] and repeatedly emphasizes the "contextual pressure" [21] exerted on the interpreter by the text. He writes that "a text controls and selects its own interpretations but also... its own misinterpretations" [61], a control exercised by context. But, of course, this presupposes that the meaning of the context or co-text is already fairly determinate, and this is due to the purported existence of literal meaning or "zero-degree meaning" as he sometimes calls it [36]-the same obscure, autonomist nonentity we have just been discussing. Of course, Eco could be right. Perhaps there is such a thing as nonpsychological meaning. But if Eco wishes to assert this, he has to present at least some sort of explanation of what nonpsychological "literal" meaning could possibly be, how we could have epistemic access to it, and so on. He simply does not do this.

Indeed, Eco is not even consistent in maintaining nonpsychological meaning as his standard. Thus, at certain points, he attributes meaning not to texts and dictionaries but to authors or to members of a linguistic community, confusing a number of real sorts of meaning and mixing these with the purely fantastical literal meaning-in a manner typical of many critics and theorists, for reasons we shall discuss below. For example, in judging Derrida's interpretation of Peirce, Eco establishes as a standard ofjudgement whether or not Peirce "would have been satisfied with Derrida's interpretation" [35], thereby establishing something along the lines of conscious authorial truth-conditional meaning as the object of interpretation. After a discussion of rhetorical techniques in a letter by Pliny the Younger, he makes the confusing statement that "Really Pliny the Younger (or his text) is doing things with words" [ 135]. Later, he indicates that, despite this assertion, texts cannot do things: "We must agree with Strawson... when he says that 'mentioning or referring is not something that an expression does; it is something that someone can use an expression to do"' [208].

Elsewhere he sees meaning as defined by a reader's intuition [54], thus shifting from authorial to individual readerly intent (though at the same time he identifies this intuition with an autonomist/idealist "English code"). At other times, he turs to larger commu- nities, which is to say abstractions from a number of individual readers' intents, defining literal meaning not as autonomous but as social, the meaning of "every member of a community of healthy native speakers" [36-why he chooses to exclude sick native speakers is unclear].

Eco's tendency to shift between different varieties of meaning-some real, some not-is not, I think, accidental. It is a direct result of his failure even to consider the issue

unreflectively and tacitly adopts an essentialist view of meaning and, in his attempt to explain why interpretation is limited, seeks to spell out precisely what meaning "really" is. In doing this, he repeatedly presupposes, implicitly and vaguely, a nonidiolectal or autonomist view of language, most often of an idealist variety. Thus, for example, he repeatedly appeals to "literal meaning" as the source of limitation. But he is never really able to say what literal meaning is. Most often, he refers us to dictionaries [see, for example, 5], but this only pushes the problem back one step. Having disparaged interpretation for intention (understood in the partially narrow, partially vague sense of something about which the author is self-consciously aware), he repeatedly anthropomor- phizes language and texts in an effort to make some sense of their meaning. Thus he refers to "the text intention" [148], an opaque notion, and even attributes "rights" to "the text" [7]-presumably this is a manner of speaking, but precisely what it is a manner of speaking about is unclear. While it might seem that only people make inferences and have idiolects, Eco brands "every text" a "complex inferential mechanism" and makes "the text" into "a kind of idiolectal mechanism" [260]. Texts are the products of authorial idiolects and are open to inferences by readers. But, for precisely this reason, the idiolectal and the inferential (not to mention the mechanical) do not at all apply to texts per se; indeed, in this sense, texts per se do not exist, except as physical objects.

In a similar vein, Eco stresses that "the interpreted text imposes some constraints" [6] and repeatedly emphasizes the "contextual pressure" [21] exerted on the interpreter by the text. He writes that "a text controls and selects its own interpretations but also... its own misinterpretations" [61], a control exercised by context. But, of course, this presupposes that the meaning of the context or co-text is already fairly determinate, and this is due to the purported existence of literal meaning or "zero-degree meaning" as he sometimes calls it [36]-the same obscure, autonomist nonentity we have just been discussing. Of course, Eco could be right. Perhaps there is such a thing as nonpsychological meaning. But if Eco wishes to assert this, he has to present at least some sort of explanation of what nonpsychological "literal" meaning could possibly be, how we could have epistemic access to it, and so on. He simply does not do this.

Indeed, Eco is not even consistent in maintaining nonpsychological meaning as his standard. Thus, at certain points, he attributes meaning not to texts and dictionaries but to authors or to members of a linguistic community, confusing a number of real sorts of meaning and mixing these with the purely fantastical literal meaning-in a manner typical of many critics and theorists, for reasons we shall discuss below. For example, in judging Derrida's interpretation of Peirce, Eco establishes as a standard ofjudgement whether or not Peirce "would have been satisfied with Derrida's interpretation" [35], thereby establishing something along the lines of conscious authorial truth-conditional meaning as the object of interpretation. After a discussion of rhetorical techniques in a letter by Pliny the Younger, he makes the confusing statement that "Really Pliny the Younger (or his text) is doing things with words" [ 135]. Later, he indicates that, despite this assertion, texts cannot do things: "We must agree with Strawson... when he says that 'mentioning or referring is not something that an expression does; it is something that someone can use an expression to do"' [208].

Elsewhere he sees meaning as defined by a reader's intuition [54], thus shifting from authorial to individual readerly intent (though at the same time he identifies this intuition with an autonomist/idealist "English code"). At other times, he turs to larger commu- nities, which is to say abstractions from a number of individual readers' intents, defining literal meaning not as autonomous but as social, the meaning of "every member of a community of healthy native speakers" [36-why he chooses to exclude sick native speakers is unclear].

Eco's tendency to shift between different varieties of meaning-some real, some not-is not, I think, accidental. It is a direct result of his failure even to consider the issue

88 88 88 88 88 88 88

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Page 9: The Limits of Semiotics

of the psychological nature of meaning, combined with an implicit essentialism. Unfor-

tunately, Eco is, once again, not alone in this. But where does this leave us with regard to Eco's initial dilemma, the problem of the

limits of interpretation? A solution to this problem is implicit in our criticism of Eco's semantic presuppositions. The indeterminacy and inadjudicability of interpretation are

merely the indeterminacy and inadjudicability of our vague, tacit, nonidiolectal concep- tions of meaning. Specifically, whenever we interpret, we necessarily interpret for some semantic object-social meaning, authorial intent, autonomous textual meaning, or whatever. When implicit, this object almost inevitably varies from interpreter to

interpreter. While we are all seeking what we would consider "the meaning" of the work, some of us tacitly tie that meaning to authorial intent, others to social practice, and so on. Moreover, even when we are explicit about the semantic objects for which we are

interpreting, we tend to assume that one or the other of these objects is the right one, that authorial intent or social practice or the autonomous text or some other entity definitively determines "the meaning" of the work. Finally, our semantic objects, even when explicit and seemingly shared, are most often ill defined. For example, even when we are interpreting for authorial intent, we are very rarely at all clear as to precisely what authorial intent involves, what sort of authorial intent we have in mind, and so on. Are we concerned with, say, the definitions of words, satisfaction conditions for propositions, larger thematic issues, unconscious fantasies and associations, biographical prototypes, or something else? And when we are interpreting for such doubtful entities as "the social meaning of the text" or "the objective meaning of the text," the situation is even worse. In these cases, the semantic object is not only inadequately defined; it is not adequately definable.

Thus, when we interpret, we typically aim for semantic objects that are perniciously vague and that vary across speakers. When the semantic objects are tacit, any interpretive debate is likely to proceed with the interpreters speaking at cross-purposes, talking about different semantic objects without realizing it. When the semantic objects are explicit, the interpretive debate is still likely to be mired in irresolvable differences over which object defines "the meaning" of the work. Finally, even in the best circumstances, even when discussants appear to agree explicitly on the semantic object, the conceptual vagueness of that object will muddle discussion, rendering claims and arguments unclear. Thus, in most circumstances, interpretation is in effect limitless, indeterminate, inadjudicable, for in the majority of cases debate about interpretation will involve claims that are at best inadequately defined and at worst based upon untenable essentialist presuppositions.

The first step in establishing the limits of interpretation, then, is recognizing that the

object of interpretation is various and semantically arbitrary-and therefore that it must be stipulated explicitly. (For quotidian purposes, tacit stipulation-along the lines discussed by Lewis in Convention-is most often perfectly adequate. I am referring here to professional and related forms of interpretation which involve plenary exegetical attentions to a text or utterance, for it is in the context of these that the problems of hermeneutic indeterminacy and inadjudicability arise in the first place.) This is not to say that there can be no rational discussion over what semantic object is the best focus of our concerns. There certainly can. For example, in interpreting a law, we may wish to argue that the idiosyncratic intent of the individual who drafted the law (as indicated in, say, a diary) is less important than the more common intents of the legislators who passed the law (as indicated in the record of debate, for example). Specifically, we can argue that this is true given the purposes of our legal system and associated democratic political system. However, we cannot argue that this is true semantically. More generally, there can be rational debate over which semantic object better serves our nonsemantic aims. But there can be no rational debate over which semantic object defines "real meaning."

Beyond being explicitly stipulative, interpretation should be idiolectal as well. To say that we should interpret a given law for its social meaning, or for the meaning it has

of the psychological nature of meaning, combined with an implicit essentialism. Unfor-

tunately, Eco is, once again, not alone in this. But where does this leave us with regard to Eco's initial dilemma, the problem of the

limits of interpretation? A solution to this problem is implicit in our criticism of Eco's semantic presuppositions. The indeterminacy and inadjudicability of interpretation are

merely the indeterminacy and inadjudicability of our vague, tacit, nonidiolectal concep- tions of meaning. Specifically, whenever we interpret, we necessarily interpret for some semantic object-social meaning, authorial intent, autonomous textual meaning, or whatever. When implicit, this object almost inevitably varies from interpreter to

interpreter. While we are all seeking what we would consider "the meaning" of the work, some of us tacitly tie that meaning to authorial intent, others to social practice, and so on. Moreover, even when we are explicit about the semantic objects for which we are

interpreting, we tend to assume that one or the other of these objects is the right one, that authorial intent or social practice or the autonomous text or some other entity definitively determines "the meaning" of the work. Finally, our semantic objects, even when explicit and seemingly shared, are most often ill defined. For example, even when we are interpreting for authorial intent, we are very rarely at all clear as to precisely what authorial intent involves, what sort of authorial intent we have in mind, and so on. Are we concerned with, say, the definitions of words, satisfaction conditions for propositions, larger thematic issues, unconscious fantasies and associations, biographical prototypes, or something else? And when we are interpreting for such doubtful entities as "the social meaning of the text" or "the objective meaning of the text," the situation is even worse. In these cases, the semantic object is not only inadequately defined; it is not adequately definable.

Thus, when we interpret, we typically aim for semantic objects that are perniciously vague and that vary across speakers. When the semantic objects are tacit, any interpretive debate is likely to proceed with the interpreters speaking at cross-purposes, talking about different semantic objects without realizing it. When the semantic objects are explicit, the interpretive debate is still likely to be mired in irresolvable differences over which object defines "the meaning" of the work. Finally, even in the best circumstances, even when discussants appear to agree explicitly on the semantic object, the conceptual vagueness of that object will muddle discussion, rendering claims and arguments unclear. Thus, in most circumstances, interpretation is in effect limitless, indeterminate, inadjudicable, for in the majority of cases debate about interpretation will involve claims that are at best inadequately defined and at worst based upon untenable essentialist presuppositions.

The first step in establishing the limits of interpretation, then, is recognizing that the

object of interpretation is various and semantically arbitrary-and therefore that it must be stipulated explicitly. (For quotidian purposes, tacit stipulation-along the lines discussed by Lewis in Convention-is most often perfectly adequate. I am referring here to professional and related forms of interpretation which involve plenary exegetical attentions to a text or utterance, for it is in the context of these that the problems of hermeneutic indeterminacy and inadjudicability arise in the first place.) This is not to say that there can be no rational discussion over what semantic object is the best focus of our concerns. There certainly can. For example, in interpreting a law, we may wish to argue that the idiosyncratic intent of the individual who drafted the law (as indicated in, say, a diary) is less important than the more common intents of the legislators who passed the law (as indicated in the record of debate, for example). Specifically, we can argue that this is true given the purposes of our legal system and associated democratic political system. However, we cannot argue that this is true semantically. More generally, there can be rational debate over which semantic object better serves our nonsemantic aims. But there can be no rational debate over which semantic object defines "real meaning."

Beyond being explicitly stipulative, interpretation should be idiolectal as well. To say that we should interpret a given law for its social meaning, or for the meaning it has

of the psychological nature of meaning, combined with an implicit essentialism. Unfor-

tunately, Eco is, once again, not alone in this. But where does this leave us with regard to Eco's initial dilemma, the problem of the

limits of interpretation? A solution to this problem is implicit in our criticism of Eco's semantic presuppositions. The indeterminacy and inadjudicability of interpretation are

merely the indeterminacy and inadjudicability of our vague, tacit, nonidiolectal concep- tions of meaning. Specifically, whenever we interpret, we necessarily interpret for some semantic object-social meaning, authorial intent, autonomous textual meaning, or whatever. When implicit, this object almost inevitably varies from interpreter to

interpreter. While we are all seeking what we would consider "the meaning" of the work, some of us tacitly tie that meaning to authorial intent, others to social practice, and so on. Moreover, even when we are explicit about the semantic objects for which we are

interpreting, we tend to assume that one or the other of these objects is the right one, that authorial intent or social practice or the autonomous text or some other entity definitively determines "the meaning" of the work. Finally, our semantic objects, even when explicit and seemingly shared, are most often ill defined. For example, even when we are interpreting for authorial intent, we are very rarely at all clear as to precisely what authorial intent involves, what sort of authorial intent we have in mind, and so on. Are we concerned with, say, the definitions of words, satisfaction conditions for propositions, larger thematic issues, unconscious fantasies and associations, biographical prototypes, or something else? And when we are interpreting for such doubtful entities as "the social meaning of the text" or "the objective meaning of the text," the situation is even worse. In these cases, the semantic object is not only inadequately defined; it is not adequately definable.

Thus, when we interpret, we typically aim for semantic objects that are perniciously vague and that vary across speakers. When the semantic objects are tacit, any interpretive debate is likely to proceed with the interpreters speaking at cross-purposes, talking about different semantic objects without realizing it. When the semantic objects are explicit, the interpretive debate is still likely to be mired in irresolvable differences over which object defines "the meaning" of the work. Finally, even in the best circumstances, even when discussants appear to agree explicitly on the semantic object, the conceptual vagueness of that object will muddle discussion, rendering claims and arguments unclear. Thus, in most circumstances, interpretation is in effect limitless, indeterminate, inadjudicable, for in the majority of cases debate about interpretation will involve claims that are at best inadequately defined and at worst based upon untenable essentialist presuppositions.

The first step in establishing the limits of interpretation, then, is recognizing that the

object of interpretation is various and semantically arbitrary-and therefore that it must be stipulated explicitly. (For quotidian purposes, tacit stipulation-along the lines discussed by Lewis in Convention-is most often perfectly adequate. I am referring here to professional and related forms of interpretation which involve plenary exegetical attentions to a text or utterance, for it is in the context of these that the problems of hermeneutic indeterminacy and inadjudicability arise in the first place.) This is not to say that there can be no rational discussion over what semantic object is the best focus of our concerns. There certainly can. For example, in interpreting a law, we may wish to argue that the idiosyncratic intent of the individual who drafted the law (as indicated in, say, a diary) is less important than the more common intents of the legislators who passed the law (as indicated in the record of debate, for example). Specifically, we can argue that this is true given the purposes of our legal system and associated democratic political system. However, we cannot argue that this is true semantically. More generally, there can be rational debate over which semantic object better serves our nonsemantic aims. But there can be no rational debate over which semantic object defines "real meaning."

Beyond being explicitly stipulative, interpretation should be idiolectal as well. To say that we should interpret a given law for its social meaning, or for the meaning it has

of the psychological nature of meaning, combined with an implicit essentialism. Unfor-

tunately, Eco is, once again, not alone in this. But where does this leave us with regard to Eco's initial dilemma, the problem of the

limits of interpretation? A solution to this problem is implicit in our criticism of Eco's semantic presuppositions. The indeterminacy and inadjudicability of interpretation are

merely the indeterminacy and inadjudicability of our vague, tacit, nonidiolectal concep- tions of meaning. Specifically, whenever we interpret, we necessarily interpret for some semantic object-social meaning, authorial intent, autonomous textual meaning, or whatever. When implicit, this object almost inevitably varies from interpreter to

interpreter. While we are all seeking what we would consider "the meaning" of the work, some of us tacitly tie that meaning to authorial intent, others to social practice, and so on. Moreover, even when we are explicit about the semantic objects for which we are

interpreting, we tend to assume that one or the other of these objects is the right one, that authorial intent or social practice or the autonomous text or some other entity definitively determines "the meaning" of the work. Finally, our semantic objects, even when explicit and seemingly shared, are most often ill defined. For example, even when we are interpreting for authorial intent, we are very rarely at all clear as to precisely what authorial intent involves, what sort of authorial intent we have in mind, and so on. Are we concerned with, say, the definitions of words, satisfaction conditions for propositions, larger thematic issues, unconscious fantasies and associations, biographical prototypes, or something else? And when we are interpreting for such doubtful entities as "the social meaning of the text" or "the objective meaning of the text," the situation is even worse. In these cases, the semantic object is not only inadequately defined; it is not adequately definable.

Thus, when we interpret, we typically aim for semantic objects that are perniciously vague and that vary across speakers. When the semantic objects are tacit, any interpretive debate is likely to proceed with the interpreters speaking at cross-purposes, talking about different semantic objects without realizing it. When the semantic objects are explicit, the interpretive debate is still likely to be mired in irresolvable differences over which object defines "the meaning" of the work. Finally, even in the best circumstances, even when discussants appear to agree explicitly on the semantic object, the conceptual vagueness of that object will muddle discussion, rendering claims and arguments unclear. Thus, in most circumstances, interpretation is in effect limitless, indeterminate, inadjudicable, for in the majority of cases debate about interpretation will involve claims that are at best inadequately defined and at worst based upon untenable essentialist presuppositions.

The first step in establishing the limits of interpretation, then, is recognizing that the

object of interpretation is various and semantically arbitrary-and therefore that it must be stipulated explicitly. (For quotidian purposes, tacit stipulation-along the lines discussed by Lewis in Convention-is most often perfectly adequate. I am referring here to professional and related forms of interpretation which involve plenary exegetical attentions to a text or utterance, for it is in the context of these that the problems of hermeneutic indeterminacy and inadjudicability arise in the first place.) This is not to say that there can be no rational discussion over what semantic object is the best focus of our concerns. There certainly can. For example, in interpreting a law, we may wish to argue that the idiosyncratic intent of the individual who drafted the law (as indicated in, say, a diary) is less important than the more common intents of the legislators who passed the law (as indicated in the record of debate, for example). Specifically, we can argue that this is true given the purposes of our legal system and associated democratic political system. However, we cannot argue that this is true semantically. More generally, there can be rational debate over which semantic object better serves our nonsemantic aims. But there can be no rational debate over which semantic object defines "real meaning."

Beyond being explicitly stipulative, interpretation should be idiolectal as well. To say that we should interpret a given law for its social meaning, or for the meaning it has

of the psychological nature of meaning, combined with an implicit essentialism. Unfor-

tunately, Eco is, once again, not alone in this. But where does this leave us with regard to Eco's initial dilemma, the problem of the

limits of interpretation? A solution to this problem is implicit in our criticism of Eco's semantic presuppositions. The indeterminacy and inadjudicability of interpretation are

merely the indeterminacy and inadjudicability of our vague, tacit, nonidiolectal concep- tions of meaning. Specifically, whenever we interpret, we necessarily interpret for some semantic object-social meaning, authorial intent, autonomous textual meaning, or whatever. When implicit, this object almost inevitably varies from interpreter to

interpreter. While we are all seeking what we would consider "the meaning" of the work, some of us tacitly tie that meaning to authorial intent, others to social practice, and so on. Moreover, even when we are explicit about the semantic objects for which we are

interpreting, we tend to assume that one or the other of these objects is the right one, that authorial intent or social practice or the autonomous text or some other entity definitively determines "the meaning" of the work. Finally, our semantic objects, even when explicit and seemingly shared, are most often ill defined. For example, even when we are interpreting for authorial intent, we are very rarely at all clear as to precisely what authorial intent involves, what sort of authorial intent we have in mind, and so on. Are we concerned with, say, the definitions of words, satisfaction conditions for propositions, larger thematic issues, unconscious fantasies and associations, biographical prototypes, or something else? And when we are interpreting for such doubtful entities as "the social meaning of the text" or "the objective meaning of the text," the situation is even worse. In these cases, the semantic object is not only inadequately defined; it is not adequately definable.

Thus, when we interpret, we typically aim for semantic objects that are perniciously vague and that vary across speakers. When the semantic objects are tacit, any interpretive debate is likely to proceed with the interpreters speaking at cross-purposes, talking about different semantic objects without realizing it. When the semantic objects are explicit, the interpretive debate is still likely to be mired in irresolvable differences over which object defines "the meaning" of the work. Finally, even in the best circumstances, even when discussants appear to agree explicitly on the semantic object, the conceptual vagueness of that object will muddle discussion, rendering claims and arguments unclear. Thus, in most circumstances, interpretation is in effect limitless, indeterminate, inadjudicable, for in the majority of cases debate about interpretation will involve claims that are at best inadequately defined and at worst based upon untenable essentialist presuppositions.

The first step in establishing the limits of interpretation, then, is recognizing that the

object of interpretation is various and semantically arbitrary-and therefore that it must be stipulated explicitly. (For quotidian purposes, tacit stipulation-along the lines discussed by Lewis in Convention-is most often perfectly adequate. I am referring here to professional and related forms of interpretation which involve plenary exegetical attentions to a text or utterance, for it is in the context of these that the problems of hermeneutic indeterminacy and inadjudicability arise in the first place.) This is not to say that there can be no rational discussion over what semantic object is the best focus of our concerns. There certainly can. For example, in interpreting a law, we may wish to argue that the idiosyncratic intent of the individual who drafted the law (as indicated in, say, a diary) is less important than the more common intents of the legislators who passed the law (as indicated in the record of debate, for example). Specifically, we can argue that this is true given the purposes of our legal system and associated democratic political system. However, we cannot argue that this is true semantically. More generally, there can be rational debate over which semantic object better serves our nonsemantic aims. But there can be no rational debate over which semantic object defines "real meaning."

Beyond being explicitly stipulative, interpretation should be idiolectal as well. To say that we should interpret a given law for its social meaning, or for the meaning it has

of the psychological nature of meaning, combined with an implicit essentialism. Unfor-

tunately, Eco is, once again, not alone in this. But where does this leave us with regard to Eco's initial dilemma, the problem of the

limits of interpretation? A solution to this problem is implicit in our criticism of Eco's semantic presuppositions. The indeterminacy and inadjudicability of interpretation are

merely the indeterminacy and inadjudicability of our vague, tacit, nonidiolectal concep- tions of meaning. Specifically, whenever we interpret, we necessarily interpret for some semantic object-social meaning, authorial intent, autonomous textual meaning, or whatever. When implicit, this object almost inevitably varies from interpreter to

interpreter. While we are all seeking what we would consider "the meaning" of the work, some of us tacitly tie that meaning to authorial intent, others to social practice, and so on. Moreover, even when we are explicit about the semantic objects for which we are

interpreting, we tend to assume that one or the other of these objects is the right one, that authorial intent or social practice or the autonomous text or some other entity definitively determines "the meaning" of the work. Finally, our semantic objects, even when explicit and seemingly shared, are most often ill defined. For example, even when we are interpreting for authorial intent, we are very rarely at all clear as to precisely what authorial intent involves, what sort of authorial intent we have in mind, and so on. Are we concerned with, say, the definitions of words, satisfaction conditions for propositions, larger thematic issues, unconscious fantasies and associations, biographical prototypes, or something else? And when we are interpreting for such doubtful entities as "the social meaning of the text" or "the objective meaning of the text," the situation is even worse. In these cases, the semantic object is not only inadequately defined; it is not adequately definable.

Thus, when we interpret, we typically aim for semantic objects that are perniciously vague and that vary across speakers. When the semantic objects are tacit, any interpretive debate is likely to proceed with the interpreters speaking at cross-purposes, talking about different semantic objects without realizing it. When the semantic objects are explicit, the interpretive debate is still likely to be mired in irresolvable differences over which object defines "the meaning" of the work. Finally, even in the best circumstances, even when discussants appear to agree explicitly on the semantic object, the conceptual vagueness of that object will muddle discussion, rendering claims and arguments unclear. Thus, in most circumstances, interpretation is in effect limitless, indeterminate, inadjudicable, for in the majority of cases debate about interpretation will involve claims that are at best inadequately defined and at worst based upon untenable essentialist presuppositions.

The first step in establishing the limits of interpretation, then, is recognizing that the

object of interpretation is various and semantically arbitrary-and therefore that it must be stipulated explicitly. (For quotidian purposes, tacit stipulation-along the lines discussed by Lewis in Convention-is most often perfectly adequate. I am referring here to professional and related forms of interpretation which involve plenary exegetical attentions to a text or utterance, for it is in the context of these that the problems of hermeneutic indeterminacy and inadjudicability arise in the first place.) This is not to say that there can be no rational discussion over what semantic object is the best focus of our concerns. There certainly can. For example, in interpreting a law, we may wish to argue that the idiosyncratic intent of the individual who drafted the law (as indicated in, say, a diary) is less important than the more common intents of the legislators who passed the law (as indicated in the record of debate, for example). Specifically, we can argue that this is true given the purposes of our legal system and associated democratic political system. However, we cannot argue that this is true semantically. More generally, there can be rational debate over which semantic object better serves our nonsemantic aims. But there can be no rational debate over which semantic object defines "real meaning."

Beyond being explicitly stipulative, interpretation should be idiolectal as well. To say that we should interpret a given law for its social meaning, or for the meaning it has

of the psychological nature of meaning, combined with an implicit essentialism. Unfor-

tunately, Eco is, once again, not alone in this. But where does this leave us with regard to Eco's initial dilemma, the problem of the

limits of interpretation? A solution to this problem is implicit in our criticism of Eco's semantic presuppositions. The indeterminacy and inadjudicability of interpretation are

merely the indeterminacy and inadjudicability of our vague, tacit, nonidiolectal concep- tions of meaning. Specifically, whenever we interpret, we necessarily interpret for some semantic object-social meaning, authorial intent, autonomous textual meaning, or whatever. When implicit, this object almost inevitably varies from interpreter to

interpreter. While we are all seeking what we would consider "the meaning" of the work, some of us tacitly tie that meaning to authorial intent, others to social practice, and so on. Moreover, even when we are explicit about the semantic objects for which we are

interpreting, we tend to assume that one or the other of these objects is the right one, that authorial intent or social practice or the autonomous text or some other entity definitively determines "the meaning" of the work. Finally, our semantic objects, even when explicit and seemingly shared, are most often ill defined. For example, even when we are interpreting for authorial intent, we are very rarely at all clear as to precisely what authorial intent involves, what sort of authorial intent we have in mind, and so on. Are we concerned with, say, the definitions of words, satisfaction conditions for propositions, larger thematic issues, unconscious fantasies and associations, biographical prototypes, or something else? And when we are interpreting for such doubtful entities as "the social meaning of the text" or "the objective meaning of the text," the situation is even worse. In these cases, the semantic object is not only inadequately defined; it is not adequately definable.

Thus, when we interpret, we typically aim for semantic objects that are perniciously vague and that vary across speakers. When the semantic objects are tacit, any interpretive debate is likely to proceed with the interpreters speaking at cross-purposes, talking about different semantic objects without realizing it. When the semantic objects are explicit, the interpretive debate is still likely to be mired in irresolvable differences over which object defines "the meaning" of the work. Finally, even in the best circumstances, even when discussants appear to agree explicitly on the semantic object, the conceptual vagueness of that object will muddle discussion, rendering claims and arguments unclear. Thus, in most circumstances, interpretation is in effect limitless, indeterminate, inadjudicable, for in the majority of cases debate about interpretation will involve claims that are at best inadequately defined and at worst based upon untenable essentialist presuppositions.

The first step in establishing the limits of interpretation, then, is recognizing that the

object of interpretation is various and semantically arbitrary-and therefore that it must be stipulated explicitly. (For quotidian purposes, tacit stipulation-along the lines discussed by Lewis in Convention-is most often perfectly adequate. I am referring here to professional and related forms of interpretation which involve plenary exegetical attentions to a text or utterance, for it is in the context of these that the problems of hermeneutic indeterminacy and inadjudicability arise in the first place.) This is not to say that there can be no rational discussion over what semantic object is the best focus of our concerns. There certainly can. For example, in interpreting a law, we may wish to argue that the idiosyncratic intent of the individual who drafted the law (as indicated in, say, a diary) is less important than the more common intents of the legislators who passed the law (as indicated in the record of debate, for example). Specifically, we can argue that this is true given the purposes of our legal system and associated democratic political system. However, we cannot argue that this is true semantically. More generally, there can be rational debate over which semantic object better serves our nonsemantic aims. But there can be no rational debate over which semantic object defines "real meaning."

Beyond being explicitly stipulative, interpretation should be idiolectal as well. To say that we should interpret a given law for its social meaning, or for the meaning it has

diacritics / winter 1993 diacritics / winter 1993 diacritics / winter 1993 diacritics / winter 1993 diacritics / winter 1993 diacritics / winter 1993 diacritics / winter 1993 89 89 89 89 89 89 89

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Page 10: The Limits of Semiotics

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Page 11: The Limits of Semiotics

"on its own," is to say nothing. It is to tie our interpretive work to a semantic object that, once again, almost certainly does not exist and would not be ascertainable even if it did exist. It is to make our interpretations inadjudicable by basing them on false ontological presuppositions. If John and Jane debate whether or not the present King of France is bald or whether he has any number of other properties, their debate is limitless and inadjudicable for it concerns a nonexistent object. The same is true whether John and Jane debate the autonomous textual meaning of Mrs. Dalloway or the social meaning of the Dhvanyaloka.

Thus a stipulative and idiolectal approach to interpretation will solve many of the problems underlying Eco's dilemma of indeterminacy. It will limit the degree to which interpreters debate at cross-purposes due to implicitly divergent semantic objects. It will prevent unresolvable disagreement over what meaning really is. And it will end the fruitless search for such nonexistents as "the social meaning," "the meaning of the text itself," and so on. As we have already noted, it does not resolve the important issue of which sort of idiolectal meaning we would be best advised to stipulate as our object in any given interpretation. Nor does it provide a mechanical procedure for determining with certainty when a given interpretation is correct for a given object; we may still have disagreements, for example, about precisely what the majority of legislators did in fact aim to achieve with a given piece of legislation. But these are ordinary problems of theory construction, and in no way peculiar to interpretation-literary, legal, psychoanalytic, or whatever. More important, they are problems open to rational consideration and productive dialectic.

On the other hand, idiolectal stipulation does not in and of itself resolve the problem of pernicious vagueness. And this is a problem that may greatly inhibit or even forestall rational consideration and dialectic. Two people discussing "the intent" of a group of legislators may still be speaking at cross-purposes or seeking an entity that is inadequately specified. There are differences among the moral aim of legislators, the aim regarding national policy, the specific situations or types of situation they sought to address by means of the legislation, the bare truth conditions they had in mind for the individual sentences, and so on. Varieties of intent can be almost endlessly specified. We may distinguish among authorial meaning, individual reader's meaning, common readers' meaning within a given community (for example, ratifiers' meaning), and so on. We may distinguish among meaning as aim, meaning as biographical source, and meaning as satisfaction conditions. We might make distinctions such as definitional meaning, associative meaning, encyclopedic meaning; conscious meaning, preconscious meaning, unconscious meaning; and so on. In any given instance, certain distinctions may be more relevant than others. For example, it is crucial to consider to what extent any particular interpretive disagreement rests on a concealed disparity of semantic object or on some other form of pernicious vagueness. More generally, it is important for us to consider, in any interpretation, if we have adequately specified our semantic object for our interpretive purposes-if our discriminations could be rendered more precise, if further precision would produce different results, and so on.

In The Limits of Interpretation, Eco asks the right sorts of questions and is drawing on much valuable though neglected material. However, he fails not only to answer these questions but to formulate them in a fully adequate manner. The problems of interpreta- tion become tractable only after one frees oneself from the tacit essentialism and autonomism that have governed virtually all thought on this issue, and adopts instead a stipulative, idiolectal, and precisionist approach. There are indeed limits to interpreta- tion. But they are limits defined not by discovery or intuition, not by nature or an autonomous realm of meaning, but by the human mind and human decision.2

2. I am grateful to Mike Walsh, Lalita Pandit, and an anonymous referee for comments on an earlier draft of this essay.

"on its own," is to say nothing. It is to tie our interpretive work to a semantic object that, once again, almost certainly does not exist and would not be ascertainable even if it did exist. It is to make our interpretations inadjudicable by basing them on false ontological presuppositions. If John and Jane debate whether or not the present King of France is bald or whether he has any number of other properties, their debate is limitless and inadjudicable for it concerns a nonexistent object. The same is true whether John and Jane debate the autonomous textual meaning of Mrs. Dalloway or the social meaning of the Dhvanyaloka.

Thus a stipulative and idiolectal approach to interpretation will solve many of the problems underlying Eco's dilemma of indeterminacy. It will limit the degree to which interpreters debate at cross-purposes due to implicitly divergent semantic objects. It will prevent unresolvable disagreement over what meaning really is. And it will end the fruitless search for such nonexistents as "the social meaning," "the meaning of the text itself," and so on. As we have already noted, it does not resolve the important issue of which sort of idiolectal meaning we would be best advised to stipulate as our object in any given interpretation. Nor does it provide a mechanical procedure for determining with certainty when a given interpretation is correct for a given object; we may still have disagreements, for example, about precisely what the majority of legislators did in fact aim to achieve with a given piece of legislation. But these are ordinary problems of theory construction, and in no way peculiar to interpretation-literary, legal, psychoanalytic, or whatever. More important, they are problems open to rational consideration and productive dialectic.

On the other hand, idiolectal stipulation does not in and of itself resolve the problem of pernicious vagueness. And this is a problem that may greatly inhibit or even forestall rational consideration and dialectic. Two people discussing "the intent" of a group of legislators may still be speaking at cross-purposes or seeking an entity that is inadequately specified. There are differences among the moral aim of legislators, the aim regarding national policy, the specific situations or types of situation they sought to address by means of the legislation, the bare truth conditions they had in mind for the individual sentences, and so on. Varieties of intent can be almost endlessly specified. We may distinguish among authorial meaning, individual reader's meaning, common readers' meaning within a given community (for example, ratifiers' meaning), and so on. We may distinguish among meaning as aim, meaning as biographical source, and meaning as satisfaction conditions. We might make distinctions such as definitional meaning, associative meaning, encyclopedic meaning; conscious meaning, preconscious meaning, unconscious meaning; and so on. In any given instance, certain distinctions may be more relevant than others. For example, it is crucial to consider to what extent any particular interpretive disagreement rests on a concealed disparity of semantic object or on some other form of pernicious vagueness. More generally, it is important for us to consider, in any interpretation, if we have adequately specified our semantic object for our interpretive purposes-if our discriminations could be rendered more precise, if further precision would produce different results, and so on.

In The Limits of Interpretation, Eco asks the right sorts of questions and is drawing on much valuable though neglected material. However, he fails not only to answer these questions but to formulate them in a fully adequate manner. The problems of interpreta- tion become tractable only after one frees oneself from the tacit essentialism and autonomism that have governed virtually all thought on this issue, and adopts instead a stipulative, idiolectal, and precisionist approach. There are indeed limits to interpreta- tion. But they are limits defined not by discovery or intuition, not by nature or an autonomous realm of meaning, but by the human mind and human decision.2

2. I am grateful to Mike Walsh, Lalita Pandit, and an anonymous referee for comments on an earlier draft of this essay.

"on its own," is to say nothing. It is to tie our interpretive work to a semantic object that, once again, almost certainly does not exist and would not be ascertainable even if it did exist. It is to make our interpretations inadjudicable by basing them on false ontological presuppositions. If John and Jane debate whether or not the present King of France is bald or whether he has any number of other properties, their debate is limitless and inadjudicable for it concerns a nonexistent object. The same is true whether John and Jane debate the autonomous textual meaning of Mrs. Dalloway or the social meaning of the Dhvanyaloka.

Thus a stipulative and idiolectal approach to interpretation will solve many of the problems underlying Eco's dilemma of indeterminacy. It will limit the degree to which interpreters debate at cross-purposes due to implicitly divergent semantic objects. It will prevent unresolvable disagreement over what meaning really is. And it will end the fruitless search for such nonexistents as "the social meaning," "the meaning of the text itself," and so on. As we have already noted, it does not resolve the important issue of which sort of idiolectal meaning we would be best advised to stipulate as our object in any given interpretation. Nor does it provide a mechanical procedure for determining with certainty when a given interpretation is correct for a given object; we may still have disagreements, for example, about precisely what the majority of legislators did in fact aim to achieve with a given piece of legislation. But these are ordinary problems of theory construction, and in no way peculiar to interpretation-literary, legal, psychoanalytic, or whatever. More important, they are problems open to rational consideration and productive dialectic.

On the other hand, idiolectal stipulation does not in and of itself resolve the problem of pernicious vagueness. And this is a problem that may greatly inhibit or even forestall rational consideration and dialectic. Two people discussing "the intent" of a group of legislators may still be speaking at cross-purposes or seeking an entity that is inadequately specified. There are differences among the moral aim of legislators, the aim regarding national policy, the specific situations or types of situation they sought to address by means of the legislation, the bare truth conditions they had in mind for the individual sentences, and so on. Varieties of intent can be almost endlessly specified. We may distinguish among authorial meaning, individual reader's meaning, common readers' meaning within a given community (for example, ratifiers' meaning), and so on. We may distinguish among meaning as aim, meaning as biographical source, and meaning as satisfaction conditions. We might make distinctions such as definitional meaning, associative meaning, encyclopedic meaning; conscious meaning, preconscious meaning, unconscious meaning; and so on. In any given instance, certain distinctions may be more relevant than others. For example, it is crucial to consider to what extent any particular interpretive disagreement rests on a concealed disparity of semantic object or on some other form of pernicious vagueness. More generally, it is important for us to consider, in any interpretation, if we have adequately specified our semantic object for our interpretive purposes-if our discriminations could be rendered more precise, if further precision would produce different results, and so on.

In The Limits of Interpretation, Eco asks the right sorts of questions and is drawing on much valuable though neglected material. However, he fails not only to answer these questions but to formulate them in a fully adequate manner. The problems of interpreta- tion become tractable only after one frees oneself from the tacit essentialism and autonomism that have governed virtually all thought on this issue, and adopts instead a stipulative, idiolectal, and precisionist approach. There are indeed limits to interpreta- tion. But they are limits defined not by discovery or intuition, not by nature or an autonomous realm of meaning, but by the human mind and human decision.2

2. I am grateful to Mike Walsh, Lalita Pandit, and an anonymous referee for comments on an earlier draft of this essay.

"on its own," is to say nothing. It is to tie our interpretive work to a semantic object that, once again, almost certainly does not exist and would not be ascertainable even if it did exist. It is to make our interpretations inadjudicable by basing them on false ontological presuppositions. If John and Jane debate whether or not the present King of France is bald or whether he has any number of other properties, their debate is limitless and inadjudicable for it concerns a nonexistent object. The same is true whether John and Jane debate the autonomous textual meaning of Mrs. Dalloway or the social meaning of the Dhvanyaloka.

Thus a stipulative and idiolectal approach to interpretation will solve many of the problems underlying Eco's dilemma of indeterminacy. It will limit the degree to which interpreters debate at cross-purposes due to implicitly divergent semantic objects. It will prevent unresolvable disagreement over what meaning really is. And it will end the fruitless search for such nonexistents as "the social meaning," "the meaning of the text itself," and so on. As we have already noted, it does not resolve the important issue of which sort of idiolectal meaning we would be best advised to stipulate as our object in any given interpretation. Nor does it provide a mechanical procedure for determining with certainty when a given interpretation is correct for a given object; we may still have disagreements, for example, about precisely what the majority of legislators did in fact aim to achieve with a given piece of legislation. But these are ordinary problems of theory construction, and in no way peculiar to interpretation-literary, legal, psychoanalytic, or whatever. More important, they are problems open to rational consideration and productive dialectic.

On the other hand, idiolectal stipulation does not in and of itself resolve the problem of pernicious vagueness. And this is a problem that may greatly inhibit or even forestall rational consideration and dialectic. Two people discussing "the intent" of a group of legislators may still be speaking at cross-purposes or seeking an entity that is inadequately specified. There are differences among the moral aim of legislators, the aim regarding national policy, the specific situations or types of situation they sought to address by means of the legislation, the bare truth conditions they had in mind for the individual sentences, and so on. Varieties of intent can be almost endlessly specified. We may distinguish among authorial meaning, individual reader's meaning, common readers' meaning within a given community (for example, ratifiers' meaning), and so on. We may distinguish among meaning as aim, meaning as biographical source, and meaning as satisfaction conditions. We might make distinctions such as definitional meaning, associative meaning, encyclopedic meaning; conscious meaning, preconscious meaning, unconscious meaning; and so on. In any given instance, certain distinctions may be more relevant than others. For example, it is crucial to consider to what extent any particular interpretive disagreement rests on a concealed disparity of semantic object or on some other form of pernicious vagueness. More generally, it is important for us to consider, in any interpretation, if we have adequately specified our semantic object for our interpretive purposes-if our discriminations could be rendered more precise, if further precision would produce different results, and so on.

In The Limits of Interpretation, Eco asks the right sorts of questions and is drawing on much valuable though neglected material. However, he fails not only to answer these questions but to formulate them in a fully adequate manner. The problems of interpreta- tion become tractable only after one frees oneself from the tacit essentialism and autonomism that have governed virtually all thought on this issue, and adopts instead a stipulative, idiolectal, and precisionist approach. There are indeed limits to interpreta- tion. But they are limits defined not by discovery or intuition, not by nature or an autonomous realm of meaning, but by the human mind and human decision.2

2. I am grateful to Mike Walsh, Lalita Pandit, and an anonymous referee for comments on an earlier draft of this essay.

"on its own," is to say nothing. It is to tie our interpretive work to a semantic object that, once again, almost certainly does not exist and would not be ascertainable even if it did exist. It is to make our interpretations inadjudicable by basing them on false ontological presuppositions. If John and Jane debate whether or not the present King of France is bald or whether he has any number of other properties, their debate is limitless and inadjudicable for it concerns a nonexistent object. The same is true whether John and Jane debate the autonomous textual meaning of Mrs. Dalloway or the social meaning of the Dhvanyaloka.

Thus a stipulative and idiolectal approach to interpretation will solve many of the problems underlying Eco's dilemma of indeterminacy. It will limit the degree to which interpreters debate at cross-purposes due to implicitly divergent semantic objects. It will prevent unresolvable disagreement over what meaning really is. And it will end the fruitless search for such nonexistents as "the social meaning," "the meaning of the text itself," and so on. As we have already noted, it does not resolve the important issue of which sort of idiolectal meaning we would be best advised to stipulate as our object in any given interpretation. Nor does it provide a mechanical procedure for determining with certainty when a given interpretation is correct for a given object; we may still have disagreements, for example, about precisely what the majority of legislators did in fact aim to achieve with a given piece of legislation. But these are ordinary problems of theory construction, and in no way peculiar to interpretation-literary, legal, psychoanalytic, or whatever. More important, they are problems open to rational consideration and productive dialectic.

On the other hand, idiolectal stipulation does not in and of itself resolve the problem of pernicious vagueness. And this is a problem that may greatly inhibit or even forestall rational consideration and dialectic. Two people discussing "the intent" of a group of legislators may still be speaking at cross-purposes or seeking an entity that is inadequately specified. There are differences among the moral aim of legislators, the aim regarding national policy, the specific situations or types of situation they sought to address by means of the legislation, the bare truth conditions they had in mind for the individual sentences, and so on. Varieties of intent can be almost endlessly specified. We may distinguish among authorial meaning, individual reader's meaning, common readers' meaning within a given community (for example, ratifiers' meaning), and so on. We may distinguish among meaning as aim, meaning as biographical source, and meaning as satisfaction conditions. We might make distinctions such as definitional meaning, associative meaning, encyclopedic meaning; conscious meaning, preconscious meaning, unconscious meaning; and so on. In any given instance, certain distinctions may be more relevant than others. For example, it is crucial to consider to what extent any particular interpretive disagreement rests on a concealed disparity of semantic object or on some other form of pernicious vagueness. More generally, it is important for us to consider, in any interpretation, if we have adequately specified our semantic object for our interpretive purposes-if our discriminations could be rendered more precise, if further precision would produce different results, and so on.

In The Limits of Interpretation, Eco asks the right sorts of questions and is drawing on much valuable though neglected material. However, he fails not only to answer these questions but to formulate them in a fully adequate manner. The problems of interpreta- tion become tractable only after one frees oneself from the tacit essentialism and autonomism that have governed virtually all thought on this issue, and adopts instead a stipulative, idiolectal, and precisionist approach. There are indeed limits to interpreta- tion. But they are limits defined not by discovery or intuition, not by nature or an autonomous realm of meaning, but by the human mind and human decision.2

2. I am grateful to Mike Walsh, Lalita Pandit, and an anonymous referee for comments on an earlier draft of this essay.

"on its own," is to say nothing. It is to tie our interpretive work to a semantic object that, once again, almost certainly does not exist and would not be ascertainable even if it did exist. It is to make our interpretations inadjudicable by basing them on false ontological presuppositions. If John and Jane debate whether or not the present King of France is bald or whether he has any number of other properties, their debate is limitless and inadjudicable for it concerns a nonexistent object. The same is true whether John and Jane debate the autonomous textual meaning of Mrs. Dalloway or the social meaning of the Dhvanyaloka.

Thus a stipulative and idiolectal approach to interpretation will solve many of the problems underlying Eco's dilemma of indeterminacy. It will limit the degree to which interpreters debate at cross-purposes due to implicitly divergent semantic objects. It will prevent unresolvable disagreement over what meaning really is. And it will end the fruitless search for such nonexistents as "the social meaning," "the meaning of the text itself," and so on. As we have already noted, it does not resolve the important issue of which sort of idiolectal meaning we would be best advised to stipulate as our object in any given interpretation. Nor does it provide a mechanical procedure for determining with certainty when a given interpretation is correct for a given object; we may still have disagreements, for example, about precisely what the majority of legislators did in fact aim to achieve with a given piece of legislation. But these are ordinary problems of theory construction, and in no way peculiar to interpretation-literary, legal, psychoanalytic, or whatever. More important, they are problems open to rational consideration and productive dialectic.

On the other hand, idiolectal stipulation does not in and of itself resolve the problem of pernicious vagueness. And this is a problem that may greatly inhibit or even forestall rational consideration and dialectic. Two people discussing "the intent" of a group of legislators may still be speaking at cross-purposes or seeking an entity that is inadequately specified. There are differences among the moral aim of legislators, the aim regarding national policy, the specific situations or types of situation they sought to address by means of the legislation, the bare truth conditions they had in mind for the individual sentences, and so on. Varieties of intent can be almost endlessly specified. We may distinguish among authorial meaning, individual reader's meaning, common readers' meaning within a given community (for example, ratifiers' meaning), and so on. We may distinguish among meaning as aim, meaning as biographical source, and meaning as satisfaction conditions. We might make distinctions such as definitional meaning, associative meaning, encyclopedic meaning; conscious meaning, preconscious meaning, unconscious meaning; and so on. In any given instance, certain distinctions may be more relevant than others. For example, it is crucial to consider to what extent any particular interpretive disagreement rests on a concealed disparity of semantic object or on some other form of pernicious vagueness. More generally, it is important for us to consider, in any interpretation, if we have adequately specified our semantic object for our interpretive purposes-if our discriminations could be rendered more precise, if further precision would produce different results, and so on.

In The Limits of Interpretation, Eco asks the right sorts of questions and is drawing on much valuable though neglected material. However, he fails not only to answer these questions but to formulate them in a fully adequate manner. The problems of interpreta- tion become tractable only after one frees oneself from the tacit essentialism and autonomism that have governed virtually all thought on this issue, and adopts instead a stipulative, idiolectal, and precisionist approach. There are indeed limits to interpreta- tion. But they are limits defined not by discovery or intuition, not by nature or an autonomous realm of meaning, but by the human mind and human decision.2

2. I am grateful to Mike Walsh, Lalita Pandit, and an anonymous referee for comments on an earlier draft of this essay.

"on its own," is to say nothing. It is to tie our interpretive work to a semantic object that, once again, almost certainly does not exist and would not be ascertainable even if it did exist. It is to make our interpretations inadjudicable by basing them on false ontological presuppositions. If John and Jane debate whether or not the present King of France is bald or whether he has any number of other properties, their debate is limitless and inadjudicable for it concerns a nonexistent object. The same is true whether John and Jane debate the autonomous textual meaning of Mrs. Dalloway or the social meaning of the Dhvanyaloka.

Thus a stipulative and idiolectal approach to interpretation will solve many of the problems underlying Eco's dilemma of indeterminacy. It will limit the degree to which interpreters debate at cross-purposes due to implicitly divergent semantic objects. It will prevent unresolvable disagreement over what meaning really is. And it will end the fruitless search for such nonexistents as "the social meaning," "the meaning of the text itself," and so on. As we have already noted, it does not resolve the important issue of which sort of idiolectal meaning we would be best advised to stipulate as our object in any given interpretation. Nor does it provide a mechanical procedure for determining with certainty when a given interpretation is correct for a given object; we may still have disagreements, for example, about precisely what the majority of legislators did in fact aim to achieve with a given piece of legislation. But these are ordinary problems of theory construction, and in no way peculiar to interpretation-literary, legal, psychoanalytic, or whatever. More important, they are problems open to rational consideration and productive dialectic.

On the other hand, idiolectal stipulation does not in and of itself resolve the problem of pernicious vagueness. And this is a problem that may greatly inhibit or even forestall rational consideration and dialectic. Two people discussing "the intent" of a group of legislators may still be speaking at cross-purposes or seeking an entity that is inadequately specified. There are differences among the moral aim of legislators, the aim regarding national policy, the specific situations or types of situation they sought to address by means of the legislation, the bare truth conditions they had in mind for the individual sentences, and so on. Varieties of intent can be almost endlessly specified. We may distinguish among authorial meaning, individual reader's meaning, common readers' meaning within a given community (for example, ratifiers' meaning), and so on. We may distinguish among meaning as aim, meaning as biographical source, and meaning as satisfaction conditions. We might make distinctions such as definitional meaning, associative meaning, encyclopedic meaning; conscious meaning, preconscious meaning, unconscious meaning; and so on. In any given instance, certain distinctions may be more relevant than others. For example, it is crucial to consider to what extent any particular interpretive disagreement rests on a concealed disparity of semantic object or on some other form of pernicious vagueness. More generally, it is important for us to consider, in any interpretation, if we have adequately specified our semantic object for our interpretive purposes-if our discriminations could be rendered more precise, if further precision would produce different results, and so on.

In The Limits of Interpretation, Eco asks the right sorts of questions and is drawing on much valuable though neglected material. However, he fails not only to answer these questions but to formulate them in a fully adequate manner. The problems of interpreta- tion become tractable only after one frees oneself from the tacit essentialism and autonomism that have governed virtually all thought on this issue, and adopts instead a stipulative, idiolectal, and precisionist approach. There are indeed limits to interpreta- tion. But they are limits defined not by discovery or intuition, not by nature or an autonomous realm of meaning, but by the human mind and human decision.2

2. I am grateful to Mike Walsh, Lalita Pandit, and an anonymous referee for comments on an earlier draft of this essay.

diacritics / winter 1993 diacritics / winter 1993 diacritics / winter 1993 diacritics / winter 1993 diacritics / winter 1993 diacritics / winter 1993 diacritics / winter 1993 91 91 91 91 91 91 91

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Page 12: The Limits of Semiotics

WORKS CITED Aristotle. "Topics." Trans. W. A. Pickard-Cambridge. The Complete Works ofAristotle.

Vol. 1. Ed. Jonathan Bares. Princeton: Princeton UP, 1984. Ayer, A. J. Language, Truth and Logic. New York: Dover, 1952. Bishop, John. Joyce's Book of the Dark. Madison: U of Wisconsin P, 1986. Block, Ned, ed. Readings in the Philosophy of Psychology. 2 vols. Cambridge: Harvard

UP, 1980-81. Chomsky, Noam. Knowledge of Language: Its Nature, Origin, and Use. New York:

Praeger, 1986. . Rules and Representations. New York: Columbia UP, 1980.

Derrida, Jacques. Speech and Phenomena. Trans. David B. Allison. Evanston: Northwestern UP, 1973.

Dummett, Michael. "What Is a Theory of Meaning? (2)." Evans and McDowell 67-137. Evans, Gareth, and John McDowell, eds. Truth and Meaning. Oxford: Oxford UP, 1976. Fodor, Jerry. The Language of Thought. New York: Crowell, 1975.

. Representations: Philosophical Essays on the Foundations of Cognitive Science. Cambridge: MIT P, 1981.

Grunbaum, Adolf. The Foundations of Psychoanalysis: A Philosophical Critique. Berkeley: U of California P, 1984.

. "Is Falsifiability the Touchstone of Scientific Rationality: Karl Popper Versus Inductivism." Essays inMemoryoflmreLakatos. Ed. R. S. Cohen, P. K. Feyerabend, and M. W. Wartofsky. Dordrecht: Reidel, 1976.

Hintikka, Jaakko. "Concept As Vision: On the Problem of Representation in Modem Art and in Modem Philosophy." The Intentions oflntentionality and OtherNew Models for Modalities. Boston: Reidel, 1975.

Hogan, Patrick Colm. "On the Ontological Status of Possible Worlds." The Modern Schoolman 37 (1984): 79-83.

The Politics of Interpretation: Ideology, Professionalism, and the Study of Literature. New York: Oxford UP, 1990.

Hudson, R. A. Sociolinguistics. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1980. Katz, Jerrold. Language and OtherAbstract Objects. Totowa: Rowman and Littlefield,

1981. Knuth, Leo. Letter. James Joyce Quarterly 23 (1986): 511-18. Kripke, Saul. Naming and Necessity. Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1980. Lemout, Geert. "Dutch in Finnegans Wake. " James Joyce Quarterly 23 (1985): 45-66. Lewis, David. Convention. Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1969. Merleau-Ponty, Maurice. "On the Phenomenology of Language." Phenomenology,

Language, and Sociology. Ed. John O'Neill. London: Heinemann, 1974. Searle, John. Minds, Brains and Science. Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1984.

WORKS CITED Aristotle. "Topics." Trans. W. A. Pickard-Cambridge. The Complete Works ofAristotle.

Vol. 1. Ed. Jonathan Bares. Princeton: Princeton UP, 1984. Ayer, A. J. Language, Truth and Logic. New York: Dover, 1952. Bishop, John. Joyce's Book of the Dark. Madison: U of Wisconsin P, 1986. Block, Ned, ed. Readings in the Philosophy of Psychology. 2 vols. Cambridge: Harvard

UP, 1980-81. Chomsky, Noam. Knowledge of Language: Its Nature, Origin, and Use. New York:

Praeger, 1986. . Rules and Representations. New York: Columbia UP, 1980.

Derrida, Jacques. Speech and Phenomena. Trans. David B. Allison. Evanston: Northwestern UP, 1973.

Dummett, Michael. "What Is a Theory of Meaning? (2)." Evans and McDowell 67-137. Evans, Gareth, and John McDowell, eds. Truth and Meaning. Oxford: Oxford UP, 1976. Fodor, Jerry. The Language of Thought. New York: Crowell, 1975.

. Representations: Philosophical Essays on the Foundations of Cognitive Science. Cambridge: MIT P, 1981.

Grunbaum, Adolf. The Foundations of Psychoanalysis: A Philosophical Critique. Berkeley: U of California P, 1984.

. "Is Falsifiability the Touchstone of Scientific Rationality: Karl Popper Versus Inductivism." Essays inMemoryoflmreLakatos. Ed. R. S. Cohen, P. K. Feyerabend, and M. W. Wartofsky. Dordrecht: Reidel, 1976.

Hintikka, Jaakko. "Concept As Vision: On the Problem of Representation in Modem Art and in Modem Philosophy." The Intentions oflntentionality and OtherNew Models for Modalities. Boston: Reidel, 1975.

Hogan, Patrick Colm. "On the Ontological Status of Possible Worlds." The Modern Schoolman 37 (1984): 79-83.

The Politics of Interpretation: Ideology, Professionalism, and the Study of Literature. New York: Oxford UP, 1990.

Hudson, R. A. Sociolinguistics. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1980. Katz, Jerrold. Language and OtherAbstract Objects. Totowa: Rowman and Littlefield,

1981. Knuth, Leo. Letter. James Joyce Quarterly 23 (1986): 511-18. Kripke, Saul. Naming and Necessity. Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1980. Lemout, Geert. "Dutch in Finnegans Wake. " James Joyce Quarterly 23 (1985): 45-66. Lewis, David. Convention. Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1969. Merleau-Ponty, Maurice. "On the Phenomenology of Language." Phenomenology,

Language, and Sociology. Ed. John O'Neill. London: Heinemann, 1974. Searle, John. Minds, Brains and Science. Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1984.

WORKS CITED Aristotle. "Topics." Trans. W. A. Pickard-Cambridge. The Complete Works ofAristotle.

Vol. 1. Ed. Jonathan Bares. Princeton: Princeton UP, 1984. Ayer, A. J. Language, Truth and Logic. New York: Dover, 1952. Bishop, John. Joyce's Book of the Dark. Madison: U of Wisconsin P, 1986. Block, Ned, ed. Readings in the Philosophy of Psychology. 2 vols. Cambridge: Harvard

UP, 1980-81. Chomsky, Noam. Knowledge of Language: Its Nature, Origin, and Use. New York:

Praeger, 1986. . Rules and Representations. New York: Columbia UP, 1980.

Derrida, Jacques. Speech and Phenomena. Trans. David B. Allison. Evanston: Northwestern UP, 1973.

Dummett, Michael. "What Is a Theory of Meaning? (2)." Evans and McDowell 67-137. Evans, Gareth, and John McDowell, eds. Truth and Meaning. Oxford: Oxford UP, 1976. Fodor, Jerry. The Language of Thought. New York: Crowell, 1975.

. Representations: Philosophical Essays on the Foundations of Cognitive Science. Cambridge: MIT P, 1981.

Grunbaum, Adolf. The Foundations of Psychoanalysis: A Philosophical Critique. Berkeley: U of California P, 1984.

. "Is Falsifiability the Touchstone of Scientific Rationality: Karl Popper Versus Inductivism." Essays inMemoryoflmreLakatos. Ed. R. S. Cohen, P. K. Feyerabend, and M. W. Wartofsky. Dordrecht: Reidel, 1976.

Hintikka, Jaakko. "Concept As Vision: On the Problem of Representation in Modem Art and in Modem Philosophy." The Intentions oflntentionality and OtherNew Models for Modalities. Boston: Reidel, 1975.

Hogan, Patrick Colm. "On the Ontological Status of Possible Worlds." The Modern Schoolman 37 (1984): 79-83.

The Politics of Interpretation: Ideology, Professionalism, and the Study of Literature. New York: Oxford UP, 1990.

Hudson, R. A. Sociolinguistics. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1980. Katz, Jerrold. Language and OtherAbstract Objects. Totowa: Rowman and Littlefield,

1981. Knuth, Leo. Letter. James Joyce Quarterly 23 (1986): 511-18. Kripke, Saul. Naming and Necessity. Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1980. Lemout, Geert. "Dutch in Finnegans Wake. " James Joyce Quarterly 23 (1985): 45-66. Lewis, David. Convention. Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1969. Merleau-Ponty, Maurice. "On the Phenomenology of Language." Phenomenology,

Language, and Sociology. Ed. John O'Neill. London: Heinemann, 1974. Searle, John. Minds, Brains and Science. Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1984.

WORKS CITED Aristotle. "Topics." Trans. W. A. Pickard-Cambridge. The Complete Works ofAristotle.

Vol. 1. Ed. Jonathan Bares. Princeton: Princeton UP, 1984. Ayer, A. J. Language, Truth and Logic. New York: Dover, 1952. Bishop, John. Joyce's Book of the Dark. Madison: U of Wisconsin P, 1986. Block, Ned, ed. Readings in the Philosophy of Psychology. 2 vols. Cambridge: Harvard

UP, 1980-81. Chomsky, Noam. Knowledge of Language: Its Nature, Origin, and Use. New York:

Praeger, 1986. . Rules and Representations. New York: Columbia UP, 1980.

Derrida, Jacques. Speech and Phenomena. Trans. David B. Allison. Evanston: Northwestern UP, 1973.

Dummett, Michael. "What Is a Theory of Meaning? (2)." Evans and McDowell 67-137. Evans, Gareth, and John McDowell, eds. Truth and Meaning. Oxford: Oxford UP, 1976. Fodor, Jerry. The Language of Thought. New York: Crowell, 1975.

. Representations: Philosophical Essays on the Foundations of Cognitive Science. Cambridge: MIT P, 1981.

Grunbaum, Adolf. The Foundations of Psychoanalysis: A Philosophical Critique. Berkeley: U of California P, 1984.

. "Is Falsifiability the Touchstone of Scientific Rationality: Karl Popper Versus Inductivism." Essays inMemoryoflmreLakatos. Ed. R. S. Cohen, P. K. Feyerabend, and M. W. Wartofsky. Dordrecht: Reidel, 1976.

Hintikka, Jaakko. "Concept As Vision: On the Problem of Representation in Modem Art and in Modem Philosophy." The Intentions oflntentionality and OtherNew Models for Modalities. Boston: Reidel, 1975.

Hogan, Patrick Colm. "On the Ontological Status of Possible Worlds." The Modern Schoolman 37 (1984): 79-83.

The Politics of Interpretation: Ideology, Professionalism, and the Study of Literature. New York: Oxford UP, 1990.

Hudson, R. A. Sociolinguistics. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1980. Katz, Jerrold. Language and OtherAbstract Objects. Totowa: Rowman and Littlefield,

1981. Knuth, Leo. Letter. James Joyce Quarterly 23 (1986): 511-18. Kripke, Saul. Naming and Necessity. Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1980. Lemout, Geert. "Dutch in Finnegans Wake. " James Joyce Quarterly 23 (1985): 45-66. Lewis, David. Convention. Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1969. Merleau-Ponty, Maurice. "On the Phenomenology of Language." Phenomenology,

Language, and Sociology. Ed. John O'Neill. London: Heinemann, 1974. Searle, John. Minds, Brains and Science. Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1984.

WORKS CITED Aristotle. "Topics." Trans. W. A. Pickard-Cambridge. The Complete Works ofAristotle.

Vol. 1. Ed. Jonathan Bares. Princeton: Princeton UP, 1984. Ayer, A. J. Language, Truth and Logic. New York: Dover, 1952. Bishop, John. Joyce's Book of the Dark. Madison: U of Wisconsin P, 1986. Block, Ned, ed. Readings in the Philosophy of Psychology. 2 vols. Cambridge: Harvard

UP, 1980-81. Chomsky, Noam. Knowledge of Language: Its Nature, Origin, and Use. New York:

Praeger, 1986. . Rules and Representations. New York: Columbia UP, 1980.

Derrida, Jacques. Speech and Phenomena. Trans. David B. Allison. Evanston: Northwestern UP, 1973.

Dummett, Michael. "What Is a Theory of Meaning? (2)." Evans and McDowell 67-137. Evans, Gareth, and John McDowell, eds. Truth and Meaning. Oxford: Oxford UP, 1976. Fodor, Jerry. The Language of Thought. New York: Crowell, 1975.

. Representations: Philosophical Essays on the Foundations of Cognitive Science. Cambridge: MIT P, 1981.

Grunbaum, Adolf. The Foundations of Psychoanalysis: A Philosophical Critique. Berkeley: U of California P, 1984.

. "Is Falsifiability the Touchstone of Scientific Rationality: Karl Popper Versus Inductivism." Essays inMemoryoflmreLakatos. Ed. R. S. Cohen, P. K. Feyerabend, and M. W. Wartofsky. Dordrecht: Reidel, 1976.

Hintikka, Jaakko. "Concept As Vision: On the Problem of Representation in Modem Art and in Modem Philosophy." The Intentions oflntentionality and OtherNew Models for Modalities. Boston: Reidel, 1975.

Hogan, Patrick Colm. "On the Ontological Status of Possible Worlds." The Modern Schoolman 37 (1984): 79-83.

The Politics of Interpretation: Ideology, Professionalism, and the Study of Literature. New York: Oxford UP, 1990.

Hudson, R. A. Sociolinguistics. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1980. Katz, Jerrold. Language and OtherAbstract Objects. Totowa: Rowman and Littlefield,

1981. Knuth, Leo. Letter. James Joyce Quarterly 23 (1986): 511-18. Kripke, Saul. Naming and Necessity. Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1980. Lemout, Geert. "Dutch in Finnegans Wake. " James Joyce Quarterly 23 (1985): 45-66. Lewis, David. Convention. Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1969. Merleau-Ponty, Maurice. "On the Phenomenology of Language." Phenomenology,

Language, and Sociology. Ed. John O'Neill. London: Heinemann, 1974. Searle, John. Minds, Brains and Science. Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1984.

WORKS CITED Aristotle. "Topics." Trans. W. A. Pickard-Cambridge. The Complete Works ofAristotle.

Vol. 1. Ed. Jonathan Bares. Princeton: Princeton UP, 1984. Ayer, A. J. Language, Truth and Logic. New York: Dover, 1952. Bishop, John. Joyce's Book of the Dark. Madison: U of Wisconsin P, 1986. Block, Ned, ed. Readings in the Philosophy of Psychology. 2 vols. Cambridge: Harvard

UP, 1980-81. Chomsky, Noam. Knowledge of Language: Its Nature, Origin, and Use. New York:

Praeger, 1986. . Rules and Representations. New York: Columbia UP, 1980.

Derrida, Jacques. Speech and Phenomena. Trans. David B. Allison. Evanston: Northwestern UP, 1973.

Dummett, Michael. "What Is a Theory of Meaning? (2)." Evans and McDowell 67-137. Evans, Gareth, and John McDowell, eds. Truth and Meaning. Oxford: Oxford UP, 1976. Fodor, Jerry. The Language of Thought. New York: Crowell, 1975.

. Representations: Philosophical Essays on the Foundations of Cognitive Science. Cambridge: MIT P, 1981.

Grunbaum, Adolf. The Foundations of Psychoanalysis: A Philosophical Critique. Berkeley: U of California P, 1984.

. "Is Falsifiability the Touchstone of Scientific Rationality: Karl Popper Versus Inductivism." Essays inMemoryoflmreLakatos. Ed. R. S. Cohen, P. K. Feyerabend, and M. W. Wartofsky. Dordrecht: Reidel, 1976.

Hintikka, Jaakko. "Concept As Vision: On the Problem of Representation in Modem Art and in Modem Philosophy." The Intentions oflntentionality and OtherNew Models for Modalities. Boston: Reidel, 1975.

Hogan, Patrick Colm. "On the Ontological Status of Possible Worlds." The Modern Schoolman 37 (1984): 79-83.

The Politics of Interpretation: Ideology, Professionalism, and the Study of Literature. New York: Oxford UP, 1990.

Hudson, R. A. Sociolinguistics. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1980. Katz, Jerrold. Language and OtherAbstract Objects. Totowa: Rowman and Littlefield,

1981. Knuth, Leo. Letter. James Joyce Quarterly 23 (1986): 511-18. Kripke, Saul. Naming and Necessity. Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1980. Lemout, Geert. "Dutch in Finnegans Wake. " James Joyce Quarterly 23 (1985): 45-66. Lewis, David. Convention. Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1969. Merleau-Ponty, Maurice. "On the Phenomenology of Language." Phenomenology,

Language, and Sociology. Ed. John O'Neill. London: Heinemann, 1974. Searle, John. Minds, Brains and Science. Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1984.

WORKS CITED Aristotle. "Topics." Trans. W. A. Pickard-Cambridge. The Complete Works ofAristotle.

Vol. 1. Ed. Jonathan Bares. Princeton: Princeton UP, 1984. Ayer, A. J. Language, Truth and Logic. New York: Dover, 1952. Bishop, John. Joyce's Book of the Dark. Madison: U of Wisconsin P, 1986. Block, Ned, ed. Readings in the Philosophy of Psychology. 2 vols. Cambridge: Harvard

UP, 1980-81. Chomsky, Noam. Knowledge of Language: Its Nature, Origin, and Use. New York:

Praeger, 1986. . Rules and Representations. New York: Columbia UP, 1980.

Derrida, Jacques. Speech and Phenomena. Trans. David B. Allison. Evanston: Northwestern UP, 1973.

Dummett, Michael. "What Is a Theory of Meaning? (2)." Evans and McDowell 67-137. Evans, Gareth, and John McDowell, eds. Truth and Meaning. Oxford: Oxford UP, 1976. Fodor, Jerry. The Language of Thought. New York: Crowell, 1975.

. Representations: Philosophical Essays on the Foundations of Cognitive Science. Cambridge: MIT P, 1981.

Grunbaum, Adolf. The Foundations of Psychoanalysis: A Philosophical Critique. Berkeley: U of California P, 1984.

. "Is Falsifiability the Touchstone of Scientific Rationality: Karl Popper Versus Inductivism." Essays inMemoryoflmreLakatos. Ed. R. S. Cohen, P. K. Feyerabend, and M. W. Wartofsky. Dordrecht: Reidel, 1976.

Hintikka, Jaakko. "Concept As Vision: On the Problem of Representation in Modem Art and in Modem Philosophy." The Intentions oflntentionality and OtherNew Models for Modalities. Boston: Reidel, 1975.

Hogan, Patrick Colm. "On the Ontological Status of Possible Worlds." The Modern Schoolman 37 (1984): 79-83.

The Politics of Interpretation: Ideology, Professionalism, and the Study of Literature. New York: Oxford UP, 1990.

Hudson, R. A. Sociolinguistics. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1980. Katz, Jerrold. Language and OtherAbstract Objects. Totowa: Rowman and Littlefield,

1981. Knuth, Leo. Letter. James Joyce Quarterly 23 (1986): 511-18. Kripke, Saul. Naming and Necessity. Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1980. Lemout, Geert. "Dutch in Finnegans Wake. " James Joyce Quarterly 23 (1985): 45-66. Lewis, David. Convention. Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1969. Merleau-Ponty, Maurice. "On the Phenomenology of Language." Phenomenology,

Language, and Sociology. Ed. John O'Neill. London: Heinemann, 1974. Searle, John. Minds, Brains and Science. Cambridge: Harvard UP, 1984.

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