Thinking and Judging

This paper appeared in: Grazer philosophische Studien 86 (2012), 223-234 1

THINKING AND JUDGING

Jasper Liptow

University of Frankfurt / University of Basel

Whether we should affirm or deny the question “Can animals think?” depends not only on what

animals are able to do, but also on what we understand by “thinking”. Such a reminder is

superfluous as long as it is sufficiently clear what the words mean in which a particular question

is put. But as with so many questions that concern philosophers, in this case it is not clear. Like

other philosophically relevant expressions, “thinking” has more than one meaning. And for each

of its meanings it is anything but obvious what the implications of the use of the term are.

Hence it seems reasonable to think of the procedure for answering the question whether animals

can think as consisting of the following three steps. In a first step one has to interpret the

question, i.e. one has to determine the meaning of “thinking.” This is not just a matter of giving

some stipulative definition of the word; on the other hand, no detailed analysis of the everyday

use of “thinking” is required. What is required, it seems to me, is an interpretation that, firstly,

is recognizable as one of the colloquial meanings of “thinking” and, secondly, refers to an ability

which is characteristic for the mental life of humans and belongs to the centre of our self-

understanding as thinking beings. Only then is the question of any deep interest whether animals

are like us or not in this respect. In a second step, one has to name conditions that a being must

fulfil in order to count as thinking in the sense determined in the first step. (These two steps are

not independent: naming necessary conditions for something to fall under some predicate is,

arguably, part of determining the meaning of that predicate.) In a third step, one can inquire

whether some animal behaviour meets the conditions named in the second step. The first two

steps belong to the area of philosophy, the third step to that of cognitive ethology.

This is how Reinhard Brandt proceeds in his book Können Tiere denken? (Can animals

think?—Brandt 2009; page references in the text relate to this book, the translation is mine). In

the second chapter (“Was heißt ‘denken’?”—“What is meant by ‘thinking’?”) Brandt

determines a meaning for “thinking” and gives necessary conditions for being able to think in

this sense. In the third chapter (“Können Tiere denken?”), those aspects of animal behaviour

that most often get mentioned in the literature as evidence for animal thought are examined to

see whether they really fulfil the necessary conditions of thinking. Brandt’s answer is in the

negative.


The following considerations represent a critical examination of some aspects of Brandt’s first

step—his claim that in the context of a philosophical answer to the question whether animals

can think, “thinking” can be interpreted as “judging.” In the first section I introduce Brandt’s

claim that thinking is judging and support this claim in a slightly modified form. In the second

section, I criticize Brandt’s claim that the criterion of conceptual articulation allows for a sharp

distinction between mental acts like judgements on the one hand and mere “propositional

attitudes” on the other hand. In the third section, I finally examine in more detail how the

conceptual articulation of judgements is to be understood. Against Brandt I submit that talk of

the “syntactic form” of judgements and other mental acts should be avoided. I then sketch an

alternative conception of conceptual articulation that, to my knowledge, was first proposed by

Gareth Evans.

1. Thinking as judging

In a nutshell, Brandt’s central claim with respect to the interpretation of the question whether

animals can think is that thinking is judging. In a little more detail, and in Brandt’s own words:

“Only those mental acts should qualify as thinking that, on closer inspection, are revealed to

have the basic structure of affirmation or negation: ‘S is P, S is not P’” (29f.).1

According to Brandt, an essential feature of judgements is what I call their “conceptual

articulation”. Brandt holds that judgements are complex entities that have a formal unity and a

uniquely determined logical form. Take a singular judgement. It consists of two concepts, a

“subject concept” and a “predicate concept,” as Brandt calls them. The subject concept’s

contribution to the content of the judgement consists in referring to a particular object; the

predicate concept’s contribution consists, inter alia, in ascribing a certain property to that object

or to characterize it in a certain way. In a singular judgement subject and predicate concepts are

united in a way that determines the content and the logical form of the judgement.

Thinking is […] the representation of an exact semantic and logico-syntactic

structure. The subject concept refers to some object external to the judgement,

while the predicate concept asserts something about the object referred to. Take

“Theaetetus flies”: of the one sitting there, who is called Theaetetus, it is asserted

that the predicate or the property of flying applies to him. The reference is

achieved not by the name as such, but by the structured proposition. The object

1 “[N]ur diejenigen mentalen Leistungen also sollen als Denken qualifiziert werden, die bei näherer Analyse die

Basisstruktur der Bejahung oder Verneinung aufweisen: ‘S ist P, S ist nicht P.’ ”


of the subject (Theaetetus) and the predicate (flying) are the contents of the

judgement that are formally joined in the judgement. (34)2

Brandt notes explicitly that judging is not necessarily tied to any symbolic or linguistic

expression, but is a mental “power […] that enables, in us, the symbolically expressed

judgement” (30). Judgements in Brandt’s sense are primarily mental events, episodes or acts,

and the thought that non-linguistic animals are able to judge does not contain any contradiction.

It does, of course, sound a little strange, to reserve the title “thinking” to judgements. Why

withhold it from all the other conceptually articulated mental acts we are capable of—like

advancing and testing a hypothesis, drawing an inference, or doubting a claim? Now we can, I

submit, stay true in the following way to the Brandtian conception of thinking without

identifying thinking with acts of judging: we give the title “thinking” to all those mental states,

acts and abilities that are dependent on the ability to judge. It can be assumed entirely plausible

that a large number of mental acts, which we would ordinarily call acts of thinking, do in fact

depend on the ability to judge. One can, for example, only advance the hypothesis that p, draw

the conclusion that p, or doubt if p, if one is able judge that p (and to judge that not p).3

I have said that it is and should be Brandt’s intention to explicate a concept of thinking that

belongs to the centre of our self-understanding as thinking beings. Does the concept of judging

meet this demand? Brandt gives a number of hints in this direction. It is the conceptual

articulation of judgements that enables reference to an objective world (38ff.) and the possibility

of truth and falsity (38f.); only beings that are able to judge have an understanding of the world

as an objective reality that is independent of them (42), and of themselves as subjects (42f.). I

doubt that all these things are in fact enabled solely by the ability to judge. But since an adequate

discussion of each of these claims would require at least a paper of its own, I will not dwell on

these issues here. I will simply take it for granted that the ability to judge, and the mental abilities

and acts that depend on it, constitute a characteristic dimension of our mental lives.4

2 “Im Denken […] wird eine exakte semantische und logisch-syntaktische Struktur repräsentiert. Der

Subjektbegriff referiert auf ein urteilsexternes Etwas, während der Prädikatbegriff mittels des Satzsubjekts etwas

über das Referenzobjekt aussagt. ‘Theätet fliegt.’: Über den dort Sitzenden mit dem Namen Theätet wird

ausgesagt, daß ihm das Prädikat bzw. die Eigenschaft des Fliegens zukommt. Die Referenz kommt nicht durch den

bloßen Namen, sondern durch die strukturierte Aussage zustande. Das Etwas des Subjekts (Theätet) und des

Prädikats (Fliegen) sind die Inhalte des Urteils, die im Urteil formal verbunden werden.” 3 The question which mental acts, states, and abilities presuppose the ability to judge would, of course, require

closer consideration. Brandt would not, but Gareth Evans would count believing among them (cf. Evans 1982,

124). I will return to this issue in the next section. 4 A different justification for the claim that the ability to judge is a characteristic mark of the human mind is given

in McDowell 1996. McDowell holds that only beings that are able to judge can have (empirical) concepts, because

the concept of a concept presupposes the ideas of responsibility (for the correct application of concepts) and

justification.


2. Judgements and propositional attitudes

Brandt says little about how his conception of thinking as judging relates to another, more

common conception according to which thinking consists in having beliefs, desires and other

so called “propositional attitudes”. Donald Davidson’s (in)famous arguments against animal

thought, for example, take this different conception of thinking as their starting point. And it is

this conception that is presupposed in most philosophical discussion of animal thought, not least

because of the enormous influence of Davidson’s arguments.5

Brandt evidently holds that the mere capacity to entertain propositional attitudes is not an

accomplishment that presupposes the ability to judge, and is therefore not a form of thinking in

his sense. In his preliminary remarks he grants both the dog and its master the knowledge that

one cannot walk on water (cf. 7); and he is willing to admit that John Searle’s dogs have

propositional attitudes, but claims that these are “analogical psychical constellations that are

separated from our judgements by a principled gap” (29).

What is the difference between judgements and propositional attitudes like beliefs and desires?

As long as the label “propositional attitude” just serves to express that the things that it applies

to have a representational content that is (or enables them to be) true or false, judgements are

propositional attitudes as well.6 So Brandt must see a difference somewhere else. Although he

does not discuss this matter, it seems obvious that, according to Brandt, the difference between

judgements and mere propositional attitudes can be expressed in terms of what I have called the

“conceptual articulation” of judgements. Judgements are constituted by the application of

several concepts in accordance with a definite logical form, whereas mere propositional

attitudes are mental states that, as a whole, can be described as true or false, but are not

conceptually articulated.

As is well known, Robert Stalnaker developed a conception of mental representations (or, more

exactly, of beliefs as the paradigmatic kind of mental representations) and their content that

does not rely on the idea of conceptual articulation. According to Stalnaker, beliefs can be

understood as attitudes (or, more generally, relations) towards conceptually unstructurd

propositions. Propositions, according to Stalnaker, are nothing but sets of possible worlds (or

functions from possible worlds to truth values). To have a certain belief is, therefore, according

to Stalnaker, to be able to sort a contextually relevant set of possible situations into two

5 Cf. Davidson 1982. 6 Brandt would have to deny that propositional attitudes can be true or false if he wanted to stick to his claim that

it is conceptual articulation that makes mental acts, or states true or false in the first place. But I do not see how

this can be possible. If the dog believes that he cannot walk on water, he believes something that is true.


classes—those in which the belief is true and those in which it is false—and to decide to which

class the situation that one is actually in belongs.7 Stalnaker explicitly holds that it is an

advantage of this conception of belief that it allows us to take our ascription of beliefs to animals

at face value: according to his conception of belief, animals do have beliefs in exactly the same

sense as we do.8

Now, Stalnaker thinks that in order to understand human thinking we do not have to invoke any

mental representations other than propositional attitudes in this sense. Brandt, on his part, might

try to take over Stalnaker’s conception of propositional attitudes while rejecting his claim that

all mental acts can be characterized in this way. Brandt would then have to hold that the mental

acts and states of human beings are divided into two disjoint classes separated by the presence

or absence of conceptual articulation. One class would consist of mere propositional attitudes

in Stalnaker’s sense: mental states that can be evaluated according to their truth and falsity and

can therefore stand in logical relations, but are not conceptually articulated.9 The other class

would consist of states and acts that depend on our ability to make judgements insofar as their

representational content is a formal unity of at least two concepts with a determinate logical

form. In this picture, we humans would share a great part of our mental life with at least some

non-human animals. For our perceptual systems, like that of some animals, produce

propositional attitudes; our behaviour, like that of some animals, is guided by propositional

attitudes. But unlike any animals, we have the additional capacity to judge and, therefore, to

have conceptually articulated mental states and acts.10

This distinction between two kinds of mental states and acts can—with a slight shift of

terminology—be redescribed as a distinction between two kinds or concepts of thinking. This

would have the advantage that one could easily dodge an objection that was put forth by Norman

Malcom and relies on an “appeal to ordinary language”.11 Malcom’s objection (raised against

Descartes) runs as follows:

7 Cf. Stalnaker 1984, Chapter 4. Stalnaker’s conception of propositions is, of course, primarily a conception of the

content of mental acts and states and not a conception of these acts and states themselves. But the proposal that

mental acts and states are relations to unstructured propositions has to be understood—and is understood by

Stalnaker—as implying that the corresponding acts and states are unstructured, too. 8 Cf. ibid., 62f., where Stalnaker says, with reference to the belief that a bone is buried in the yard: “[I]f we think

of a proposition as a way of dividing a given set of alternative possible ways things might have been into two parts,

then we can say that, in one sense, the master’s belief is exactly the same as the dog’s. They both divide the set of

alternative possible ways things might have been that is relevant to explaining [the dog’s] capacities and

dispositions in exactly the same way” (63). 9 To take this line, however, Brandt would obviously have to give up the claim that only conceptually articulated

mental states can be true or false. 10 Cf. Daniel Dennett’s distinction between beliefs and opinions (Dennett 1978). Dennett’s distinction differs from

the one Brandt needs in a crucial way: Dennett conceives of opinions (following de Sousa) as bets on the truth of

sentences (or as “sentences collected as true”) and thus as essentially linguistic states. 11 Malcom 1972/1973; here p. 15.


A million examples could be produced in which it would be a correct way of

speaking to say of an animal, something of the form, “He thinks that p.” Clearly

there is an error in Descartes’ contention that animals do not think.12

Brandt’s concession that animals and humans alike have propositional attitudes puts him in a

position to answer this objection by claiming that “thinks” is ambiguous; for while there is a

sense of “thinks”—having a propositional attitude—according to which animals (and humans)

can indeed “think that p”, there is another, more demanding, sense of “thinks”—performing

conceptually articulated mental acts—according to which humans can, but non-human animals

cannot think.13

However, the distinction between two different kinds of mental states—with propositional

attitudes like beliefs belonging to one kind and judgements belonging to the other—is not

without its problems.14 The most serious problem seems to be that there are close relationships

between members of different kinds that call into question the very basis of the distinction. It

can, for example, hardly be denied that beliefs and judgements are, so to speak, made for each

other. To believe that p is to hold true that p; and to judge that p is to acknowledge that (it is true

that) p. And if someone acknowledges something as true, he or she thereby comes, at least for a

short time, to hold it true. The following equivalence is therefore hard to deny:

(JB) If one judges that p, one has the belief that p.15

How can we hope to explain why this equivalence holds if propositional attitudes and

judgements are “divided by a principled gap” (29)? If judging (in its simplest form) consists in

joining two concepts according to a determinate logical form—should not the belief that is the

result of this act consist of the same concepts and have the same logical form?

If we follow Stalnaker in conceiving beliefs as attitudes towards unstructured propositions, the

point can be brought out even more clearly. Because they lack conceptual articulation,

Stalnakerian beliefs are not as finely individuated as Brandtian judgements. If we suppose that

water is necessarily H2O, the Stalnakerian belief that one cannot walk on water is just the same

belief as the belief that one cannot walk on H2O. But this identity does not hold of the respective

12 Malcom 1972/1973, 12. 13 Malcom also draws a line between merely thinking that something is the case and having the thought that

something is the case, where the latter, “as a matter of psychological fact”, involves “formulating” a proposition

in the mind or “thinking of a proposition”. Malcom, too, holds that the ability to merely think that something is the

case is a mental ability that humans share with animals, whereas only humans are able to have thoughts. But unlike

judging in Brandt’s sense, Malcom’s “having thoughts” is essentially a linguistic affair. 14 The same problem can be posed, mutatis mutandis, for Dennett and Malcom. 15 Cf. Künne 1996, 56, with reference to Alexius Meinong.


Brandtian judgements. Someone who has the concept of water but lacks the concept of oxygen

may be able to judge that one cannot walk on water, but that person will not be able to judge

that one cannot walk on H2O, for the simple reason that one of the concepts that constitute the

content of that judgement is lacking. But what is the point of differences between judgements

that cannot show up in differences between the beliefs in which those judgements result?

The close relationship between judgements and beliefs strongly suggests that the content of

judgements and the content of beliefs cannot differ in nature: either both are conceptually

articulated or neither. At the very least, the burden of proof is with those who think otherwise.

To sum up, I doubt that Brandt’s claim that there is a principled gap between propositional

attitudes on the one hand and judgements and other conceptually articulated mental acts on the

other is tenable. If it is not, an important concession to the defenders of animal thought—that

even though animals are not able to judge they are able to have beliefs, desires and intentions—

is no longer available.

3. The conceptual articulation of judgements

Why must we assume that judgements (and other mental acts and states) are conceptually

articulated? The main argument for this is an argument to the best explanation. It runs as

follows: Thinking—having propositional attitudes and performing propositional acts—has

properties that we cannot explain if we do not assume that thoughts are conceptually articulated.

These properties are the so called “productivity” and “systematicity” of thought.16

Since the argument is well known, I will keep things short and limit the exposition to the case

of systematicity. It seems to be an undeniable and fundamental fact about the human mind that

someone who is able to think the thoughts that John is happy and that Harry is sad, will also be

able to think the thoughts that John is sad and that Harry is happy. The best (and perhaps the

only) explanation for this fact seems to be an explanation along the following lines: If thinking

the thought that John is happy is the joint exercise of three abilities—the ability to think about

John, the ability to think about things as happy, and the ability to think thoughts that have the

logical form of singular judgements—and if the same holds, mutatis mutandis, for thinking the

thoughts that Harry is sad, and conversely that John is sad and Harry is happy, then anyone who

is able to think the first two thoughts has all the abilities needed for thinking the latter two. Put

16 For a detailed discussion cf. Fodor 1998, 94ff. Fodor argues for the so called “compositionality” of the

content of mental acts and states; but for the aims of this paper, compositionality and conceptual articulation

amount to the same thing.


like this, the idea of systematicity is closely connected with what Gareth Evans called the

“Generality Constraint”. The Generality Constraint claims that if one is able to think a thought

of a certain logical form, then one is able to think all thoughts of this form that exclusively

contain concepts that one possesses. In Evans’s words:

[I]f a subject can be credited with the thought that a is F, then he must have the

conceptual resources for entertaining the thought that a is G, for every property

of being G of which he has a conception.17

What else could explain the systematicity of thought but the assumption that thoughts are

conceptually articulated? I think we should agree with Brandt that there is a sense in which

thoughts have “constituents” and a certain logical form. (As I argued in the last section, I also

think, against Brandt, that the same holds for propositional attitudes generally.)

But how are we to understand the idea of conceptual articulation? What does it mean to say of

an act of judgement that it has “constituents”? Brandt does not give a detailed answer to these

questions, but he does give a hint. He calls the structure in question a “logico-syntactic

structure” (34) or a “formal syntactic and semantic structure” (36); and he characterizes the

logical form of a singular judgement as the “syntactic relation of subject and predicate” (38).

Brandt obviously conceives of the logical form of judgements, on analogy with the logical form

of sentences, as something that is at least partly determined by syntactic structure. But what

does it mean to speak of judgements—the mental acts themselves and not just the sentences by

which we express these acts linguistically—as having a syntactic structure?

When we speak of the syntactic structure of some entity, we conceive the entity in a way that

presupposes but abstracts from the fact that the entity in question has semantic properties or

representational content. The syntactic properties of an entity that also has semantic properties

are those of its properties that are, on the one hand, independent of its semantic properties and

that, on the other hand, partly determine which semantic properties it has. Crudely put, syntactic

structure is that part of the material structure of a bearer of semantic content that plays a role in

determining its semantic content.

Hence, the assumption that mental acts and states are literally endowed with a syntactic

structure is anything but harmless. It implies that the very distinction between content and a

material bearer of content that fits linguistic inscriptions and utterances can also be applied to

17 Evans 1982, 104.


mental acts and states. This assumption is, in effect, identical with the assumption that thoughts

are sentences in a “language of mind”.18

But is the claim that mental acts like judgements have a syntactic structure really plausible?

Andreas Kemmerling has rightly emphasized that our folk-psychological conception of mental

acts and states seems to imply that these acts and states do not have a material bearer with a

syntactic structure. With regard to beliefs, he writes:

Although sentences and beliefs are alike in having semantic content, sentences allow

for a distinction between form and content while beliefs do not. If one leaves

aside the content of a given sentence, what is left is still that very sentence; even

if one gives a new meaning to a sentence, it can stay (in a fairly clear sense) the

same sentence. You cannot play such tricks on beliefs. If you rob a belief of its

content, there is nothing left of the belief. And any attempt to change the content

of a belief without changing the belief itself is doomed to fail.19

Kemmerling concludes that beliefs as such do not have a syntactic form and, therefore, do not

have a logical form either.20 Kemmerling’s observation weighs heavily because it concerns an

aspect of our folk-psychological conception of mental states and, therefore, an aspect of our

conception of ourselves as thinking beings. If Kemmerling was right, the thought that mental

acts and states are conceptually articulated would not be part of folk-psychology and would

even be incompatible with it.

Now, I think that Kemmerling is right to hold, against Brandt, that the folk-psychological

concept of a propositional act or state does not contain the idea that these acts and states have

material bearers of semantic content, and is, therefore, hostile to the idea of syntactic form. But

I suggest that this does not imply that propositional acts and states as such do not have a logical

form. To acknowledge this point, one has to envisage that Brandt doesn’t really have to rely on

the idea of syntactic structure in order to explain the conceptual articulation of judgements. The

conceptual articulation of judgements can also be explained with reference to a very different

18 That the idea of a logical form of mental acts and states leads to the idea of a language of mind is, according to

Fodor, the best argument for the existence of the latter: “[T]he main argument for a language of thought is that,

very, very plausibly, only something that is language-like can have a logical form” (Fodor 2008, 21). 19 “Sätze und Überzeugungen haben zwar gemeinsam, daß sie semantischen Gehalt haben, aber Sätze gestatten

eine Unterscheidung zwischen Form und Inhalt, und genau das tun Überzeugungen nicht. Man kann vom Inhalt

eines gegebenen Satzes absehen und es dann immer noch mit diesem Satz zu tun haben; ja man kann sogar einem Satz

eine neue Bedeutung verleihen, und es kann sich dann immer noch (in einem einigermaßen klaren Sinn) um den selben

Satz handeln. Mit Überzeugungen sind dergleichen Tricks nicht möglich. Wenn man von einer Überzeugung den

Inhalt wegnimmt, dann bleibt nichts von ihr übrig. Und jeder Versuch, einer Überzeugung einen anderen Inhalt zu

geben und sie doch beizubehalten, wäre offenkundig von vornherein zum Scheitern verurteilt” (Kemmerling 1997,

66). 20 Cf. Kemmerling 1997, 67.


kind of complexity, namely the complexity of an act that consists in the joint exercise of several

abilities.

It was again Gareth Evans who first suggested that logical form can be understood without

invoking the concept of syntactic structure (and, thereby, the concept of a material bearer of

content). Let me quote the crucial passage:

It seems to me that there must be a sense in which thoughts are structured. […]

However, I certainly do not wish to be committed to the idea that having thoughts

involves the subject’s using, manipulating, or apprehending symbols

—which would be entities with non-semantic as well as semantic properties, so that

the idea [that thoughts are structured, J.L.] would amount to the idea that different

episodes of thinking can involve the same symbols, identified by their semantic

and non-semantic properties. I should prefer to explain the sense in which thoughts

are structured, not in terms of their being composed of several distinct elements, but

in terms of their being a complex of the exercise of several distinct abilities.[..] Thus

someone who thinks that John is happy and that Harry is happy exercises on two

occasions the conceptual ability which we call ‘possessing the concept of

happiness’. And similarly someone who thinks that John is happy and that John is

sad exercises on two occasions a single ability, the ability to think of, or think about,

John.21

The conception of judgement (and other “urteilsförmiger” mental acts) revealed in this passage

is that judgements are complex actualizations of a number of conceptual abilities. In a particular

judgement, different conceptual abilities will be exercised together in an ordered way. The

specific way in which the conceptual abilities are actualized is what we call the logical form of

the judgement. If we think of the conceptual articulation of mental acts in this way, we can

explain the idea of a logical form of mental acts without invoking the questionable assumption

that mental acts and states have material bearers of content which have a syntactic form and are

composed in accordance with syntactic rules.

4. Conclusion

In this paper I have sought to elucidate Brandt’s thesis that thinking—in the sense that is

relevant to the question whether animals can or cannot think—is judging. I have criticized two

aspects of the way Brandt puts this thesis. I have argued, first, that it is questionable that the

idea of conceptual articulation can be used to draw a line between mere propositional attitudes

on the one hand and mental acts like judgements on the other. Secondly, I have raised some

21 Evans 1982, 100f.


doubts about the prospects of accounting for the logical form of mental acts and states in terms

of syntactic structure. The very idea of syntactic structure implies a distinction between

semantic content and material bearer of content that has no foothold in our folk-psychological

conception of thinking. Finally, I have followed Evans in suggesting that the conceptual

articulation of judgements should be understood in terms of the joint exercise of conceptual

abilities.

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Thinking and Judging