The Euthyphro might well be given to undergraduates to read early in their philosophical training. The arguments are apparently simple, but some of them, as I shall show, lead naturally on to thorny problems of modern philosophy. Another benefit that could be gained from reading the Euthyphro is that the reader may learn to be forewarned against some common fallacies and debating tricks in moral disputes.

When I offered this title, I was engaging myself to investigate an apparent difference between two kinds of intentionality, in the hope that I should be able to find some firm logical criterion to distinguish them. I was less successful in this than I had hoped. I think I have gained a certain amount of insight into the logic and semantics of one kind of intentional context, largely due to the work I was doing while visiting the University of Pennsylvania (...) on Frege and on Michael Dummett’s monumental commentary on Frege. But as regards the other variety of intentionality I am still very much in the dark; so I am giving you thus far merely a progress report on that. (shrink)

Divided into two parts, the first concentrates on the logical properties of propositions, their relation to facts and sentences, and the parallel objects of commands and questions. The second part examines theories of intentionality and discusses the relationship between different theories of naming and different accounts of belief.

It is fortunate for my purposes that English has the two words ‘almighty’ and ‘omnipotent’, and that apart from any stipulation by me the words have rather different associations and suggestions. ‘Almighty’ is the familiar word that comes in the creeds of the Church; ‘omnipotent’ is at home rather in formal theological discussions and controversies, e.g. about miracles and about the problem of evil. ‘Almighty’ derives by way of Latin ‘omnipotens’ from the Greek word ‘pantokratōr’; and both this Greek word, (...) like the more classical ‘pankratēs’, and ‘almighty’ itself suggest God's having power over all things. On the other hand the English word ‘omnipotent’ would ordinarily be taken to imply ability to do everything; the Latin word ‘omnipotens’ also predominantly has this meaning in Scholastic writers, even though in origin it is a Latinization of ‘pantocratōr’. So there already is a tendency to distinguish the two words; and in this paper I shall make the distinction a strict one. I shall use the word ‘almighty’ to express God's power over all things, and I shall take ‘omnipotence’ to mean ability to do everything. (shrink)

The Euthyphro might well be given to undergraduates to read early in their philosophical training. The arguments are apparently simple, but some of them, as I shall show, lead naturally on to thorny problems of modern philosophy. Another benefit that could be gained from reading the Euthyphro is that the reader may learn to be forewarned against some common fallacies and debating tricks in moral disputes.

The title I have chosen naturally suggests the question: What are you saying omnipotence is irrelevant to? I reply: This doctrine is irrelevant to worthwhile discussion of the problem of evil. By this phrase I understand: the problem how the existence of a God with the attributes traditionally ascribed to him in Christian belief can be reconciled with the occurrence of the sorts of evil that we find in the world.

In medieval writers an important distinction was drawn between two applications of the term ‘logica’: there was logica utens, the practice of thinking logically about this or that subject-matter, and there was logica docens, the construction of logical theory. Of course the English word ‘logic’ and its derivative ‘logical’ have a corresponding twofold meaning, and we ignore the distinction at the risk of serious confusion. ‘Logical thought’ may mean thinking that is being commended as orderly, consistent, and consequent, whatever its (...) subject-matter; or it may mean the thinking of logicians about logic, which alas has not always exhibited these virtues. Similarly for ‘teaching logic’: there is trying to get people, by precept and example, to be orderly, consistent, and consequent in their thinking, and there is the endeavour to train logicians for the next generation. In any respectable philosophy department there will be someone teaching logic in the first sense; in my own university there are very many first-year undergraduates who do a course called Reason and Argument with this aim. But we hold that the teacher of such logica utens must himself have a sufficient skill in logica docens if he is to do his job properly; and we undertake the further task of training people in logical theory so that some of them, who have sufficient native ability and motivation, may take up the torch from their teachers. (shrink)

It may be seen from the foregoing that Pauline's existence is multiply jeopardized; or rather, that my right to use 'Pauline' as a name, the way I said I was going to, is very doubtful, for I agree with Parmenides that one cannot name what is not there to be named. The words I have used to describe Pauline's various perils are full of what Ryle aptly called "systematically misleading expressions"; but we need not worry about that for the moment-enough (...) for now if the words succeed in bringing the various cases before our minds--and we can tidy up our language as we come to see things more clearly. (shrink)

In medieval writers an important distinction was drawn between two applications of the term ‘logica’: there was logica utens, the practice of thinking logically about this or that subject-matter, and there was logica docens, the construction of logical theory. Of course the English word ‘logic’ and its derivative ‘logical’ have a corresponding twofold meaning, and we ignore the distinction at the risk of serious confusion. ‘Logical thought’ may mean thinking that is being commended as orderly, consistent, and consequent, whatever its (...) subject-matter; or it may mean the thinking of logicians about logic, which alas has not always exhibited these virtues. Similarly for ‘teaching logic’: there is trying to get people, by precept and example, to be orderly, consistent, and consequent in their thinking, and there is the endeavour to train logicians for the next generation. In any respectable philosophy department there will be someone teaching logic in the first sense; in my own university there are very many first-year undergraduates who do a course called Reason and Argument with this aim. But we hold that the teacher of such logica utens must himself have a sufficient skill in logica docens if he is to do his job properly; and we undertake the further task of training people in logical theory so that some of them, who have sufficient native ability and motivation, may take up the torch from their teachers. (shrink)

‘Reference’ was the term Max Black and I chose to render Frege's term ‘ Bedeutung ’ when we published English translations of some selections from his works. We preferred ‘stand for’ as a translation of the verb ‘ bedeuten ’; but from ‘stand for’ we could not form a general term to render the corresponding German noun. Our renderings were chosen because, like the German words, they were in themselves colourless and untechnical, and on that very account could take on (...) in context whatever special import Frege's way of thinking might give them. Black ! and I could not foresee how the English language was going to develop. T Like another familiar English word, the word ‘gay’, ‘reference’ has S become the badge or slogan of a certain set of people; those who do not belong to the set but go on using the word as they always have done may find themselves on occasion seriously misunderstood. (shrink)