There are Some Things Words Can’t Describe
The Absence of Tacit Knowledge in Davidson and Kuhn
Thomas Kuhn’s response to Donald Davidson’s On the Very Idea of a Conceptual Scheme in Commensurability, Comparability, Communicability[1] successfully rebuffs Davidson’s criticisms of Kuhn’s work, but it does so on Davidson’s terms. There are further arguments to be made on Kuhn’s behalf that do not so readily accept Davidson’s assumptions. Most notable is the assumption that language should be the representative of a conceptual scheme. This is not to suggest that there may be a better representative, or that a representative should exist at all, yet neither Kuhn nor Davidson note that to speak only of language is to ignore other aspects of a conceptual scheme. Kuhn himself seems to forget some of the fundamental points he made in On the Structure of Scientific Revolutions[2]. Tacit knowledge, Kuhn’s term for understanding a concept in a non-linguistic way, is highlighted in many parts of Structure, especially the postscript. By playing on Davidson’s turf and never mentioning tacit knowledge in CCC, Kuhn does himself a disservice. I will firstly examine what is right about Kuhn’s argument against Davidson, before pointing out more fully what both OVI and CCC appear to have missed. Lastly, I will give a truly Kuhnian response to Davidson, one that combines his points in CCC with a discussion about the fact that Davidson does not seem to understand that talk about conceptual schema cannot be so easily degraded into talk about languages. Tacit knowledge must be recognized, something which Davidson never does, and Kuhn seems to have forgotten how to do.
Davidson’s Criticisms
In CCC, Kuhn notes that there are two major criticisms that Davidson, among others, launches at him. We should explore these criticisms, but first we must understand their context in Davidson’s overall project in OVI. Davidson wonders whether talk about differing conceptual schemes is intelligible. His conclusion is that there is “no intelligible basis on which it can be said that (conceptual) schemes are different…(though) neither can we intelligibly say that they are one” (OVI, 198)[3]. Integral to this conclusion is the argument that conceptual schemes, like languages, are translatable, and therefore share a common framework which one employs when moving from one scheme to another. In the end, Davidson believes, “we must say much the same thing about differences in conceptual scheme as we say about differences in belief: we improve the clarity and bite of declarations of difference, whether of scheme or opinion, by enlarging the basis of shared (translatable) language or of shared opinion. Indeed, no clear line between the cases can be made out” (OVI, 197).
So thinkers like Kuhn, who suggest that two conceptual schemes can be incommensurable (which in Davidson’s view means “not intertranslatable”), are talking rubbish. Just as languages are intertranslatable, so are conceptual schemes. Consequently, talking about opposing schemes does nothing for us, at least nothing that talk of differing languages or beliefs cannot handle on its own. Davidson points this out specifically when considering what it would mean for a new conceptual scheme to appear. “We get a new scheme out of an old scheme when the speakers of a language come to accept as true an important range of sentences they previously took to be false. We must not describe this change simply as a matter of coming to view old falsehoods as truth…a change has come over the meaning of the sentence because it now belongs to a new language” (OVI, 188). Changes of scheme rely on changes in language, and so “that truth is relative to a conceptual scheme – has not so far been shown to be anything more than the pedestrian and familiar fact that the truth of a sentence is relative to…the language to which it belongs. Instead of living in different worlds, Kuhn’s scientists may, like those who need Webster’s dictionary, be only words apart” (OVI, 189).
For Davidson, the whole idea of translatability between conceptual schemes is merely a translation of language, and consequently the very idea of a conceptual scheme does not give us any new perspective or information. All of Kuhn’s talk in Structure and later texts is merely talk of language, and the idea of two languages being incommensurable is necessarily unintelligible. Davidson’s proof of this lies in his two major criticisms of Kuhn.
Kuhn distills Davidson’s comments against him in CCC.
Most or all of the discussions of incommensurability have depended on the… assumption that, if two theories are incommensurable, they must be stated in mutually untranslatable languages. If that is so, a first line of criticism runs, if there is no way in which the two can be stated in a single language, then they cannot be compared, and no arguments from evidence can be relevant to choice between them. Talk about differences and comparisons presupposes that some ground is shared, and that is what proponents of incommesurability, who often talk about comparisons, have seemed to deny. At these points their talk is necessarily incoherent. A second line of criticism cuts at least as deep. People like Kuhn, it is said, tell us that it is impossible to translate old theories into a modern language. Then they proceed to do exactly that, reconstructing Aristotle’s or Newton’s or Lavoisier’s or Maxwell’s theory without departing from the language they and we speak every day. What can they mean, under these circumstances, when they speak about incommesurability? (CCC, 34-35)
By showing that the idea of non-intertranslatable languages is unintelligible, Davidson believes that we can safely say that Kuhn’s idea of incommensurability is incoherent. This conclusion helps prop up Davidson’s claim that any talk of differing conceptual schemes is a waste of time.
Kuhn’s Response:
Kuhn’s aim in CCC is to adequately answer these two criticisms, and hopefully prove that Davidson has misunderstood the claim that two languages can be incommensurable. His response relies on what he takes to be two mistaken assumptions Davidson makes in OVI, each of which corresponds to one of the major criticisms. The first assumption is that incommensurable should be equated with “not translatable”, or “not comparable”. The second assumption is that translation and interpretation are the same thing. The first is a misunderstanding of Kuhn’s work, while the second is a misunderstanding of how we communicate between languages.
“The claim that two theories are incommesurable” Kuhn explains, “is then the claim that there is no language, neutral or otherwise, into which both theories, conceived as sets of sentences, can be translated without residue or loss” (CCC, 36). Nowhere here do we have a statement concerning comparability. Also, in terms of translatability, this claim does not suggest that it is impossible, only that it operates at a loss. Davidson’s understanding of the term incommensurable is incorrect. The first major criticism, that proponents of incommensurability continually compare languages, leading to incoherence in their theory, seems almost put to rest.
But this does not dispel Davidson’s point that the idea of incommensurability is unintelligible. To do that, Kuhn must explain what “operating at a loss” means in terms of translation. His explanation, which appears after he addresses the second mistaken assumption in CCC, is better understood in light of his discussion on the difference between interpretation and translation. Following Kuhn’s lead, let us return to exactly what is meant by “at a loss” once we have briefly examined his response to the second assumption.
In response to Davidson’s second criticism, Kuhn argues that once again Davidson, among others, has made a faulty assumption.
All three (Davidson, Kitcher and Putnam)[4] sketch the technique of interpretation, all describe its outcome as a translation or a translation schema, and all conclude that its success is incompatible with even local incommensurability…The argument or argument sketch I have just supplied depends critically upon the equation of interpretation with translation….I believe it is wrong and that the mistake is important…The confusion is easy because actual translation often or perhaps always involves at least a small interpretive component. But in that case actual translation must be seen to involve two distinguishable processes. (CCC, 37)
So how are these processes, interpretation and translation, distinguishable? In translating, “the translator systematically substitutes words or strings of words in the other language for words or strings of words in the text in such as way as to produce an equivalent text in the other language” (CCC, 38). Translation is the mere switching of symbols. The translator has done nothing but exchange one word or group of words that represents a concept for another (such as moving from “blanc” in French to ‘white” in English). No substantive work has been done beyond this switching. “The fact of translation has not…change[d] the meanings of words or phrases….The translation consists exclusively of words and phrases that replace (not necessarily one-to-one) words and phrases in the original” (CCC, 38). To call it merely symbol switching may be a bit misleading, but it is essentially what Kuhn’s depiction of translation is. When I translate “la neige est blanche” to “the snow is white,” I have done nothing except exchange some words for others. There is no loss of meaning, as Kuhn notes can happen in “actual translation,” and each of the words in French has the same meaning as the corresponding words in English. I do not need to give a gloss on the meaning of neige, it simply means snow. No extra work in moving between the French and English phrases is required.
But of course, this is not always the case. There are words in French that do not have equals in English, and where symbol swapping is not possible. What then is the translator to do? This is where interpretation comes into play. Kuhn describes the historian’s act of interpretation when moving from an older language to his own idiom,
Kuhn’s Response:
Kuhn’s aim in CCC is to adequately answer these two criticisms, and hopefully prove that Davidson has misunderstood the claim that two languages can be incommensurable. His response relies on what he takes to be two mistaken assumptions Davidson makes in OVI, each of which corresponds to one of the major criticisms. The first assumption is that incommensurable should be equated with “not translatable”, or “not comparable”. The second assumption is that translation and interpretation are the same thing. The first is a misunderstanding of Kuhn’s work, while the second is a misunderstanding of how we communicate between languages.
“The claim that two theories are incommesurable” Kuhn explains, “is then the claim that there is no language, neutral or otherwise, into which both theories, conceived as sets of sentences, can be translated without residue or loss” (CCC, 36). Nowhere here do we have a statement concerning comparability. Also, in terms of translatability, this claim does not suggest that it is impossible, only that it operates at a loss. Davidson’s understanding of the term incommensurable is incorrect. The first major criticism, that proponents of incommensurability continually compare languages, leading to incoherence in their theory, seems almost put to rest.
But this does not dispel Davidson’s point that the idea of incommensurability is unintelligible. To do that, Kuhn must explain what “operating at a loss” means in terms of translation. His explanation, which appears after he addresses the second mistaken assumption in CCC, is better understood in light of his discussion on the difference between interpretation and translation. Following Kuhn’s lead, let us return to exactly what is meant by “at a loss” once we have briefly examined his response to the second assumption.
In response to Davidson’s second criticism, Kuhn argues that once again Davidson, among others, has made a faulty assumption.
All three (Davidson, Kitcher and Putnam)[4] sketch the technique of interpretation, all describe its outcome as a translation or a translation schema, and all conclude that its success is incompatible with even local incommensurability…The argument or argument sketch I have just supplied depends critically upon the equation of interpretation with translation….I believe it is wrong and that the mistake is important…The confusion is easy because actual translation often or perhaps always involves at least a small interpretive component. But in that case actual translation must be seen to involve two distinguishable processes. (CCC, 37)
So how are these processes, interpretation and translation, distinguishable? In translating, “the translator systematically substitutes words or strings of words in the other language for words or strings of words in the text in such as way as to produce an equivalent text in the other language” (CCC, 38). Translation is the mere switching of symbols. The translator has done nothing but exchange one word or group of words that represents a concept for another (such as moving from “blanc” in French to ‘white” in English). No substantive work has been done beyond this switching. “The fact of translation has not…change[d] the meanings of words or phrases….The translation consists exclusively of words and phrases that replace (not necessarily one-to-one) words and phrases in the original” (CCC, 38). To call it merely symbol switching may be a bit misleading, but it is essentially what Kuhn’s depiction of translation is. When I translate “la neige est blanche” to “the snow is white,” I have done nothing except exchange some words for others. There is no loss of meaning, as Kuhn notes can happen in “actual translation,” and each of the words in French has the same meaning as the corresponding words in English. I do not need to give a gloss on the meaning of neige, it simply means snow. No extra work in moving between the French and English phrases is required.
But of course, this is not always the case. There are words in French that do not have equals in English, and where symbol swapping is not possible. What then is the translator to do? This is where interpretation comes into play. Kuhn describes the historian’s act of interpretation when moving from an older language to his own idiom,
Most of the words in the older language are identical in form and function with words in the language of the historian and the historian’s audience. But others are new and must be learned or relearned. These are untranslatable terms for which the historian or some predecessor has had to discover or invent meanings in order to render intelligible the texts on which he works. Interpretation is the process by which the use of those terms is discovered… (CCC, 45)
Interpretation is the invention or discovery of meaning. Unlike translation, where words and substituted for other words in a general manner, the process of interpretation involves a specific understanding of certain concepts and contexts in the language we are translating from and a similar understanding in the language we are translating to[5]. Kuhn uses the word ‘doux’/’douce’ to underline his point. The word in French can mean ‘sweet’, ‘soft’, ‘bland’, ‘tender’, or ‘gentle’ depending on the context of the French sentence. A translator would not be able to give an English equivalent word, for there is none that carries all these meanings. Instead, we have equivalent English words depending on the context in which we find ‘doux’/’douce’, like ‘soft’ when we are speaking about wool. To actively render the meaning of ‘doux’/’douce’ into the English language (if that is possible), one has to understand the context in which the word is used, and the underlying concept that the word represents in this context.
This is not the same as an act of translation, for the interpreter must make judgments about the context and what the word means in this context. It is harder to see in an example such as ‘doux’/’douce’, since it is well known that it means soft in the context of wool. But on many (if not most) occasions, it is not so easy to identify how the usage of the word changes in context, and it is up to the historian or interpreter to “discover or invent” a reasonable guess about the usage. Interpretation involves an attempt to figure out the contextual usage of ambiguous words. That attempt involves understanding “the interrelated words in some local part of the web of language” (CCC, 44), getting a grasp on words connected to the word in question. With interpretation, one cannot focus on one word at a time. One must see how one ambiguous term relates to the terms around it.
This is Kuhn’s answer to how he manages to explain older scientific theories in a modern idiom, and it also sheds light on how things might be translated “at a loss.” When historians of science enlighten us about earlier conceptions of physics or biology, they give an interpretation, teaching us to see how certain words were once connected. How the words fit into “the web of language” has changed, and so we need an understanding of how each word works in relation to others in the previous language. Kuhn does precisely that in Structure, explaining that words such as “principle” were attached to difference concepts and used in different contexts than they are now[6]. Kuhn defends himself from Davidson’s second criticism by illustrating that his explanations of older sciences are not merely translations. He cannot merely swap older words for ones in our idiom, he has to figure out the relationship between words in the old language, and explain that relationship to us in the new.
From this we can get a better understanding of what Kuhn means by “at a loss.” The word ‘doux’/’douce’ is once again a good example. ‘Doux’/’douce’ cannot be simply translated, but must be interpreted for its meaning to be transferred from one language to another. Thus it is an example of
Interpretation is the invention or discovery of meaning. Unlike translation, where words and substituted for other words in a general manner, the process of interpretation involves a specific understanding of certain concepts and contexts in the language we are translating from and a similar understanding in the language we are translating to[5]. Kuhn uses the word ‘doux’/’douce’ to underline his point. The word in French can mean ‘sweet’, ‘soft’, ‘bland’, ‘tender’, or ‘gentle’ depending on the context of the French sentence. A translator would not be able to give an English equivalent word, for there is none that carries all these meanings. Instead, we have equivalent English words depending on the context in which we find ‘doux’/’douce’, like ‘soft’ when we are speaking about wool. To actively render the meaning of ‘doux’/’douce’ into the English language (if that is possible), one has to understand the context in which the word is used, and the underlying concept that the word represents in this context.
This is not the same as an act of translation, for the interpreter must make judgments about the context and what the word means in this context. It is harder to see in an example such as ‘doux’/’douce’, since it is well known that it means soft in the context of wool. But on many (if not most) occasions, it is not so easy to identify how the usage of the word changes in context, and it is up to the historian or interpreter to “discover or invent” a reasonable guess about the usage. Interpretation involves an attempt to figure out the contextual usage of ambiguous words. That attempt involves understanding “the interrelated words in some local part of the web of language” (CCC, 44), getting a grasp on words connected to the word in question. With interpretation, one cannot focus on one word at a time. One must see how one ambiguous term relates to the terms around it.
This is Kuhn’s answer to how he manages to explain older scientific theories in a modern idiom, and it also sheds light on how things might be translated “at a loss.” When historians of science enlighten us about earlier conceptions of physics or biology, they give an interpretation, teaching us to see how certain words were once connected. How the words fit into “the web of language” has changed, and so we need an understanding of how each word works in relation to others in the previous language. Kuhn does precisely that in Structure, explaining that words such as “principle” were attached to difference concepts and used in different contexts than they are now[6]. Kuhn defends himself from Davidson’s second criticism by illustrating that his explanations of older sciences are not merely translations. He cannot merely swap older words for ones in our idiom, he has to figure out the relationship between words in the old language, and explain that relationship to us in the new.
From this we can get a better understanding of what Kuhn means by “at a loss.” The word ‘doux’/’douce’ is once again a good example. ‘Doux’/’douce’ cannot be simply translated, but must be interpreted for its meaning to be transferred from one language to another. Thus it is an example of
…terms that can be translated only by part and by compromise. The translator’s choice of a particular English word or phrase for one of them is ipso facto the choice of some aspects of the intension of the French term at the expense of others. Simultaneously it introduces intensional associations characteristic of English by foreign to the work being translated. (CCC, 48)
‘Doux’/’Douce’ is translated at a loss, because when choosing a certain word to represent it in the English translation, certain aspects of the word disappear. For example, if I choose to translate it into ‘soft’, my reader will never have the knowledge that the word used also has a connotation to ‘sweet’[7]. There are plenty of cases when the multiple meanings of a given word are important, as in wordplay or irony, and to choose a single word to represent multiple meanings is to lose something of what the word is in its original language. This is Kuhn’s sense of incommensurability. The only true way to understand ‘doux’/’douce’ is to understand the concepts it represents and the contexts in which it is used. That requires interpretation, not merely symbol swapping.[8] And in turn, interpretation is required because the word in French does not have the same connotations as any word in English, and any word in English we would use as a representative has its own connotations, its own ‘intensional associations.’ ‘Doux’/’Douce’ is an incommensurability between English and French, because it cannot fit into the English web of language.
Kuhn gives us a depiction of two different types of movement between languages, interpretation and translation, and it is on the former that his arguments rely. Davidson has neglected to see that we do not merely swap words when moving from one language to another, and that the “discovery or invention” of the meaning of words must come into play. Incommensurability has a place in talk of languages, for it does not mean that they cannot be compared, but only that one must be interpreted for the other.
Tacit Knowledge
Unfortunately, Kuhn’s response in CCC is flawed as well: though his points are correct, his scope is too narrow. By keeping with Davidson’s analogy between conceptual schemes and languages, he betrays one of the most compelling points in Structure. His arguments for Davidson’s misunderstanding of incommensurability are sound, and there is no need to explore them further, save for when they must be integrated in a more complete, Kuhnian response to Davidson (to be discussed later). Kuhn himself seems to forget that language is not the be all end all of a conceptual scheme, at least not his understanding of it in Structure. There is a further, and equally powerful, attack to be made on Davidson, from Kuhn’s own work, that should be explored.
When Davidson claims “We may accept the doctrine that associates having a language with having a conceptual scheme…(since) where conceptual schemes differ so do languages” (OVI, 184) why is Kuhn so ready to assent? We can challenge this claim, using Kuhn’s own appraisal of conceptual schemes. The trap that Kuhn has fallen into is that Davidson’s connection between languages and conceptual schemes is correct, at least generally. We do not want to push the (absurd) idea that language and concepts are not heavily entwined, so we must grant Davidson this connection. But we can also point out that something is missing.
Kuhn uses Newton’s Second Law of Motion, f = ma, in the Postscipt of Structure to give us an idea of what that something is.
The sociologist, say, or the linguist who discovers that the corresponding expression (f = ma) is unproblematically uttered and received by the members of a given community will not, without much additional investigation, have learned a great deal about what either the expression or the terms in it mean, about how the scientists of the community attach the expression to nature…How have they learned, faced with a given experimental situation, to pick out the relevant forces, masses, and accelerations? (Structure, 188)
Already hinted at here is the idea that although we can read the statement, f = ma, and give a language definition for it, our understanding of it is somehow lacking when placed beside the understanding of a scientist. Scientists can “pick out the relevant forces, masses, and accelerations” where we generally cannot. The sociologist or linguist would only know the definitions of the words, not how to use the concepts behind those words in practical situations. Kuhn explains further,
…While learning to identify forces, masses and accelerations in a variety of physical situations not previously encountered, the student has also learned to design the appropriate version of f = ma through which to interrelate them, often a version for which he has encountered no literal equivalent before[9]. How has he learned to do this? A phenomenon familiar to both students of science and historians of science provides a clue. The former regularly report that they had read through a chapter of their text, understood it perfectly, but nonetheless had difficulty solving a number of the problems at the chapter’s end. Ordinarily, also, those difficulties dissolve in the same way. The student discovers… a way to see the problem as like a problem he has already encountered. (Structure, 189)
…While learning to identify forces, masses and accelerations in a variety of physical situations not previously encountered, the student has also learned to design the appropriate version of f = ma through which to interrelate them, often a version for which he has encountered no literal equivalent before[9]. How has he learned to do this? A phenomenon familiar to both students of science and historians of science provides a clue. The former regularly report that they had read through a chapter of their text, understood it perfectly, but nonetheless had difficulty solving a number of the problems at the chapter’s end. Ordinarily, also, those difficulties dissolve in the same way. The student discovers… a way to see the problem as like a problem he has already encountered. (Structure, 189)
Can this new discovery be described in language? Kuhn has given some sort of description of it, and when asked the student could probably describe how a new problem is analogous to an old one, but there is an aspect that has not been covered in either of these cases. What the student has done ultimately lies outside the realm of language[10]. He has seen one problem as like another. Although the textbook has taught him new concepts and how they interrelate, he has trouble solving the practice problems until he begins to have an independent grasp on how these concepts fit into each problem. Giving the definition of a scientific concept is not the same thing as knowing how to use it in a problem, and this is the trouble the sociologist or linguist has. They have the definitions, but do not know how to use the concepts in the practical ways that scientists do. The definitions are the language aspects to the concepts, how they are used in differing situations is another aspect altogether.
The only way to grasp these non-language aspects is to move on from the text of a chapter and do the accompanying problems, slowly learning (usually by analogy) how the concepts are to be employed. “…What results from this process is ‘tacit knowledge’” Kuhn notes, “which is learned by doing science rather than by acquiring rules for doing it” (Structure, 191). This tacit knowledge, knowledge of the non-linguistic aspects of a scientific concept, is something totally ignored in both OVI and CCC.
We can rightly criticize Davidson’s equation of language with conceptual scheme by saying that it seems to do away with tacit knowledge entirely. We can grant that where languages differ, so do conceptual schemes (at least generally), but also note that a conceptual scheme should not be represented merely by the language it is attached to. Look at the example of the sociologist failing to truly understand f = ma. It appears that the sociologist and scientist share linguistic definitions of the concepts of force, mass, and acceleration, but as Kuhn points out, the actual concepts themselves are different to the scientist. This seems to be an example where language remains constant but conceptual schemes differ[11]. The sociologist and the scientist are not “words apart,” but “ways of looking at the world[12]” apart.
Davidson is wrong to dissolve talk of conceptual schemes into merely talk of language, because tacit knowledge does in fact play an important role in the development of and use concepts. We can see this in the example of the student of science. In the Postscript to Structure Kuhn spends a fair amount of time illustrating the idea of tacit knowledge because it plays an important role in how students of science become scientists in their own right, and also sheds some light on how scientists view the world. Furthermore, since Kuhn’s notion of a paradigm is not a theory but a body of work, tacit knowledge also must clearly play a role there as well. One aspect of working under a paradigm is seeing and solving problems in the way of the paradigm, which means “picking out the relevant forces, masses, and accelerations” for example.
This seems a good place to dig our heels in to begin a defense of conceptual schemes, and it is terribly frustrating that Kuhn seems to entirely ignore it. Tacit knowledge is never once referenced in CCC, and Kuhn even proclaims “If I were now rewriting The Structure of Scientific Revolutions, I would emphasize language change more and the normal/revolutionary distinction less” (CCC, 17). I am not arguing that Kuhn’s defense in CCC is a total failure, or that language is unimportant in his clash with Davidson, but language is not the only aspect to a conceptual scheme. To give a truly Kuhnian response is to merge the different aspects together. Just as a conceptual scheme is neither only linguistic or tacit knowledge, but both, and our response should involve both kinds of knowledge.
A Truly Kuhnian Response
Let us offer a quick response to Davidson, one that effectively counters his criticisms as well as notes that he has made a glaring mistake in dissolving talk of conceptual schemes into merely talk of language. Firstly, we can probe the latter, arguing that tacit knowledge serves as a prime example of how talking only of language loses something of the scope of conceptual schemes. We might go on to suggest that there may be conceptual schemes that differ where languages do not, considering the linguist versus the scientist when they use the words force, mass and acceleration[13]. Opening the scope of the conversation to nonlinguistic aspects of conceptual schemes leaves room for many possibilities for exploration.
Secondly, we still must address the criticisms laid against Kuhn. One might ask, “why do this? Isn’t it enough that we have shown that Davidson’s entire argument stands on a flawed assumption?” But we have not quite done that. We have only argued that to talk of language is not enough. Kuhn’s arguments for the incommensurability of languages has not yet been defended, and furthermore, we must not make a mistake that mirror’s Davidson’s, speaking only of tacit knowledge and ignoring language altogether. This is where the arguments in CCC must be presented. Kuhn himself provides a robust defense of his position, so it is in our interest to borrow his when defending ourselves against Davidson.
Lastly, we must plant Kuhn’s talk of language in CCC into the overall talk of conceptual schemes. Kuhn already has done most of the work for us. We may make a brief analogy between his ‘web of language’ and what we might call a ‘web of concepts.’ Incommensurability between conceptual schemes is similar to one in language. Connections that exist between concepts in one web do not exist in another, and the only way to move from one to another is to understand the relations between these anomalous concepts, and when/how they appear contextually, to interpret.
It might appear that I have fallen into Davidson’s trap myself, suggesting an analogy between conceptual schemes and languages. Yet there is no reason to suppose that analogies do not exist. I have only argued that analogies should not imply equation. Words and concepts have similar problems of incommesurability because they both exist within a conceptual scheme. Language is a part of a conceptual scheme, so of course there exist similarities. Not all aspects of a conceptual scheme are those of language, but at least some are.
[2] From now on I will refer to it as Structure.
[3] The page numbers correspond to the printing of OVI in Davidson, “Inquiries into Truth and Interpretation.”
[4] Kitcher and Putnam level criticisms against Kuhn that are very similar to Davidson, and in CCC Kuhn addresses these criticisms en masse.
[5] Obviously translation involves knowledge of concepts and contexts as well, but how the relationship between the two is brought forth in the act of interpretation is different than in interpretation. The interpreter need not spend time deciding how the context of a given word should be represented in another language, to do so is by definition to interpret.
[6] Of course, the words might also appear in the same context with a different meaning, but what I have said does not challenge that.
[7] Obviously barring that they one day choose to learn French, or a French speaker explains this relationship to them.
[8] One may also point out that I have not truly done ‘doux’/’douce’ justice. I have listed a number of English equivalents and spoken a little about the context, but a reader who does not speak French could hardly claim to know how to use the word. If I have done any interpretation, it has not been very good.
[9] Italics are mine.
[10] Obviously the problem itself is language-based, etc, but to quibble on that is to miss my point.
[11] This is debatable, one could argue that the sociologist and scientist in fact speak a different language. Even if we grant that, the force of the point is not lost, there is a difference in tacit knowledge between the two men, and therefore the major difference between the two is not really a linguistic one.
[12] Or at least ways of looking at the practical problems of science.
[13] Once again, I am not trying to offer that this argument is correct, but I believe it is an option to be explored.
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