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Revisiting Searle on
Deriving “Ought” from “Is”
Edited by Paolo Di Lucia · Edoardo Fittipaldi
Revisiting Searle on Deriving “Ought” from “Is”
Paolo Di Lucia · Edoardo Fittipaldi
Editors
Revisiting Searle
on Deriving “Ought”
from “Is”
Editors
Paolo Di Lucia Edoardo Fittipaldi
University of Milan University of Milan
Milan, Italy Milan, Italy
ISBN 978-3-030-54115-6 ISBN 978-3-030-54116-3 (eBook)

https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-54116-3
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To Amedeo Giovanni Conte
in memoriam
John Searle: From an Institutions-Based
Metaethics to a Language-Based Ethics
Paolo Di Lucia and Edoardo Fittipaldi
1 Introduction1
This volume collects a number of contributions that, from different
perspectives, comment on John Searle’s chapter, How to Derive “Ought”
from “Is” Revisited (Chapter 1) and on an interview he gave us
(Chapter 2). In Section 1 of Chapter 1, Searle reconstructs the philo-
sophical context in which his famous How to Derive “Ought” from “Is”
first appeared (1964), and in an exemplary fashion he summarizes and
clarifies the reasons why he still believes that that derivation is valid:
Everything I have said [in Section 1], I could have said in the mid-60s and
I probably did say that in the various responses to debates. (Chapter 1,
p. 10)
In Section 2 and the Conclusion of his chapter Searle undertakes

to “deepen the points” (ibid.) made in Section 1 by elaborating on
them in light of some developments in his thinking, chiefly: (i) his
twofold distinction between ontological/epistemic objectivity and onto-
logical/epistemic subjectivity, (ii) his concept of desire-independent
vii
viii P. Di Lucia and E. Fittipaldi
reasons for action, and (iii) his concept of direction of fit. In this way, he
comes to the conclusion that an objective ethics—or, to use his words, “a
discipline that is epistemically objective, but at the same time normative”
(15)—is “to a certain extent” (ibid.) possible.
In this Introduction, we will try to clarify the main arguments offered
by Searle in Section 1, as well as in Section 2 and the Conclusion. In
doing so, we will also draw on Chapter 2. Our goal will be to explain
these arguments in a way accessible to those who may not be conversant
with Searle’s philosophy, as well as to show why Searle’s new arguments
are of the utmost importance for philosophers of normativity (and law)
and social scientists alike.
The two main sections of this Introduction map onto the two main
sections into which Searle’s chapter is divided: thus Section 1 below is
devoted to clarifying Searle’s 1964 argument, while Section 2 looks at
the way Searle reframes that argument within his subsequently developed
social ontology and philosophy of action.
2 Why the 1964 Derivation Is Correct as It

Stands
In 1964, Searle argued that an “Ought” can be derived from an “Is,”
broadly understood to include descriptive verbs like “to utter.” The
derivation was as follows:
(1) Jones uttered the words “I hereby promise to pay you, Smith, five
dollars.”
(2) Jones promised to pay Smith five dollars.
(3) Jones placed himself under (undertook) an obligation to pay Smith
five dollars.
(4) Jones is under an obligation to pay Smith five dollars.
(5) Jones ought to pay Smith five dollars.
The context where this derivation was presented was that of 1950s and
’60s Anglo philosophy, which was focused almost entirely on language,
in what has come to be known as the “linguistic turn.” As a result, certain
John Searle: From an Institutions-Based Metaethics to a … ix
metaphysical distinctions were reframed as linguistic distinctions: in our

case, the distinction between fact and value was reframed as a distinction
between statements of fact and statements of value (the latter understood
to also include ought-statements).
Now, as Searle clarifies in his chapter, his 1964 article was not about fact
and value but about statements of fact and statements of value. Thus, his
goal was not to derive values from facts, but to derive statements of value
from statements of fact; or, to be more precise, statements of value from
statements of institutional fact. As for institutional facts, Searle under-
stood them as made possible by “systems of constitutive rules” (1964,
55)—his obvious example being “the constitutive rule that to make a
promise is to undertake an obligation” (1964, 56).2
This entails two corollaries: firstly, that words like promise refer to
institutional facts, and, such that by using them—whether we like it or
not—we necessarily commit ourselves to their institutional components,
understood as overall systems of constitutive rules. Secondly—and this is
a corollary that we, the editors, draw—, it is a fallacy to assume that the
impossibility of deriving values from facts ipso facto translates into the
impossibility of deriving statements of value from statements of fact.
As Searle describes his endeavor, he simply “demanded that we take
language seriously,” and, since the meaning of many words has both a
descriptive and an evaluative component, once we use words like promise
(perhaps inducing others to rely on what was “promised”), we cannot
wash our hands of that encumbrance or dismiss what we did simply by
saying, “I never liked the institution of promising anyway.”3
It is also of the utmost importance to observe that the foregoing holds
not only for special speech acts like promises but also for less apparent
or noticeable ones, like statements. To be sure, it is not easy to imagine a
situation in which somebody should solemnly utter, “I hereby state that
it is raining” or even only, “I am stating that it is raining.” But as soon
as one has performed such a speech act—and this can be done without
expressly using the verb “to state” —one has already committed oneself to
the “criteria for its evaluation, such as truth, consistency, evidence, and
rationality” (Chapter 1, p. 7). This is why, if it is not raining outside, the
utterer could be blamed , say, for having said a lie or something wrong.
x P. Di Lucia and E. Fittipaldi
As can be seen, as early as 1964, Searle had already taken significant

steps to overcome the analytic self-confinement to metaethics,4 as well as
the taboo against developing a full-blown ethics,5 and did so by outlining
some tight connections between constitutive rules, institutional facts, and
ought-statements (1964, 56).6
That Searle reinterprets his 1964 article from an ethical perspective,
rather than from a metaethical one, is something that comes through
fully at the end of Section 1 of his chapter, where he observes that ought-
statements express reasons for action and that “[t]o say that somebody
ought to do something implies that there is a valid, good reason for his
doing it” (10, emphases added). Thus, at least in light of Searle’s chapter,
the “ought” he derived from “is” in 1964 could not be farther removed
from being a mere metaethical conclusion concerning the way words like
ought are being used. The opposite is true: according to Searle, such
derivations play a major role in our everyday life.
Thus, the question arises: How can there be objective statements about
reasons for actions, where objectivity is guaranteed by their being derived
from straightforward statements of fact (10ff.)? And this is precisely one
of the main questions Searle tackles in Section 2.
3 Toward an Objective Language-Based

Ethics
In order to cast further light on the 1964 derivation and argue for the
possibility of an objective ethics, Searle in his chapter introduces a few
concepts he developed after 1964.
If in Section 1, Searle observes that “[t]he distinction between descrip-
tive and evaluative [is] a special case of … the distinction between objec-
tive and subjective” (Chapter 1, p. 7), in Section 2 he qualifies that
observation by remarking that “the notions of objectivity and subjec-
tivity are some of the most confused notions in contemporary intellectual
life” (ibid., p. 10). He thus goes on to sub-distinguish an ontological and
epistemic objectivity from an ontological and epistemic subjectivity.
Ontologically subjective are “those entities whose mode of existence
requires being experienced” (ibid.); ontologically objective are those
John Searle: From an Institutions-Based Metaethics to a … xi
whose mode of existence does not. Pains, tickles, and itches—to use
Searle’s examples—exist and cease to exist only as long as they are experi-
enced by someone. Mountains, molecules, tectonic plates, by contrast,
“do not give a damn about us” (ibid.): they exist no matter whether
anybody experiences them. This distinction is used to explain the relation
between values and (brute) facts: the former are ontologically subjective
whereas the latter are ontologically objective.
Ontological subjectivity and objectivity, though, should not be
conflated with epistemic subjectivity and objectivity. This latter distinc-
tion is one that Searle makes in terms of claims: epistemically objective
claims are those “that can be established as ‘objective matters of fact’”
(e.g., “Van Gogh died in France”), while epistemically subjective claims
are those that “are matters of subjective opinion” (e.g., “Van Gogh is a
much better painter than Gauguin”).
With this in the background, Searle argues that “the ontological
subjectivity of a domain does not preclude the epistemic objectivity
about that domain” (ibid.).
As far as pains, tickles, and itches are concerned, this may seem
obvious. A dentist may state the epistemically objective truth of the onto-
logically subjective fact that his patient has a strong toothache (e.g., by
observing a dental abscess on a radiograph).
But among the chief developments of Searle’s philosophy since 1964
is his reframing of the concept of an institutional fact (already present in
1964), a concept he built into a general theory that in time gave rise to
an entire field of studies: social ontology.7
Searle discovered (or claimed, depending on whether one shares his
view) that institutional facts8 such as $20 bills are partly ontologically
subjective (cf. Chapter 1, p. 11)—the ontologically objective component
being the paper such bills are made of.9 Which is to say that in order for a
piece of paper to “count as” a $20 bill, there also needs to be a (shared)10
ontologically subjective attitude toward that piece of paper. Searle uses
the expression “observer-relative phenomena” to refer to “phenomena
that have at least an element of ontological subjectivity” (ibid.). As Searle
understands them, these are institutional phenomena. On his conceptu-
alization, institutional phenomena always involve “deontic” powers (i.e.,
xii P. Di Lucia and E. Fittipaldi
obligations, rights, powers, etc.). Thus, we can make epistemically objec-

tive statements about a person’s toothache as much as we can about $20
bills or deontic powers.
However, according to Searle, the social world, including the deontic
powers that make it up, rests on language.
This is a major turn in Searle’s philosophy since 1964, when Wittgen-
stein’s influence could still be felt. As Searle puts it:
When I wrote th[e] [1964] article I thought, much as Wittgenstein, that

language consisted of constitutive rules, like games. The problem is that
you cannot explain language by appealing to games because games require
language. You have to be able to state the rules of football in a language.
Without language, you cannot have games like football, baseball, chess,
checkers. You can have just throwing a ball, but in order to have a
real game—with points, and winning and losing—you have to have a
language. So you cannot explain language by appealing to games. Games
do have constitutive rules but in language what you have is that constitu-
tive rules are encoded in meanings. So the meaning of the word promise
is such that when you make a promise you commit yourself. So, there is
a constitutive rule but the constitutive rule, unlike the case of games, is
not something in addition to meaning, it is meaning.” (Chapter 1, p. 8,
asterisked note, second emphasis added)
Thus, according to Searle, we are all embedded in language, and it is

language that makes possible the existence of games, the social world,
and ethics.
In particular, by means of language we can give rise to deontic powers,
whose existence can be stated in epistemically objective statements, as
long as certain attitudes are shared.
What this means, among other things, is that ontological subjectivity
does not pose an obstacle to epistemically objective statements about the
existence of desire-independent reasons for action, such as the reason we
may have to fulfill an obligation despite our desire to the contrary.
Four final remarks are in order here.
First, as noted, Searle’s aim in 1964 was not to derive values from
facts but to derive statements of value from statements of fact. But in
no way does Searle contend, nor has he ever contended, that values are
John Searle: From an Institutions-Based Metaethics to a … xiii
nonsense or are merely linguistic entities, nor even that it is meaningless

to distinguish values from (brute) facts.11 Quite the contrary:
the old metaphysical urge was to say that values cannot lie in the world
of stones, trees, and mountains. And there is something right about that.
Why? Because nothing that lies in the world in that way could have the
consequences of values. What are these consequences? Well, the imme-
diate consequence of values is that the recognition of value, as such,
provides a rational motivation for behavior … . (Chapter 1, p. 11)
Searle’s example is someone who recognizes the value of truth and

receives very bad news from their doctor: they may not want to believe
that news, or may not want it to be true, but may all the same develop a
desire-independent reason for accepting something they do not want to
accept.
Second, representations of facts and representations of values have
opposite directions of fit. Representations of facts have a mind-to-world
direction of fit—in that it is the mind (or the “intellect”) that must adapt
to the world (or “thing”)12 —while representations of value have a world-
to-mind direction of fit, in that it is the world that must adequate itself
to the mind.
This casts some light on the ceteris paribus clause in Searle’s derivation,
at least as far as steps (4) and (5) are concerned.
In 1964, Searle wrote:
The ceteris paribus clause in this step excludes somewhat different sorts
of cases from those excluded in the previous step. In general we say, “He
undertook an obligation, but nonetheless he is not (now) under an obli-
gation” when the obligation has been removed , e.g., if the promisee says,
“I release you from your obligation.” But we say, “He is under an obliga-
tion, but nonetheless ought not to fulfill it” in cases where the obligation
is overridden by some other considerations, e.g., a prior obligation. (Searle
1964, 47, fn. 5, emphases in the original)
xiv P. Di Lucia and E. Fittipaldi
This becomes clear in light of the concept of direction of fit. Since atti-
tudes, desires, and obligations, have a world-to-mind rather than a mind-
to-world direction of fit, it is perfectly possible that we have contradic-
tory attitudes (as in Catullus’ “Odi et amo”), contradictory desires (I may
desire to be in two places at the same time), or contradictory obligations.
This brings us to our third remark. Searle rejects the principle of non-
contradiction in standard deontic logic: that is the “axiom … that if one
ought to do A, then it follow[s] that it is not the case that one ought not
to do A” (Chapter 1, pp. 14–15).
As Searle clarifies his point,
it can be both the case that one ought to do things and one ought not
to do things, because of the direction of fit. One can have equally valid,
competing reasons for inconsistent courses of action. (Chapter 1, p. 15)
To rephrase an example by Hans Kelsen, a child may at once have an

obligation to go to church on Sunday, as ordered by the mother, and
an obligation not to go to church on Sunday, as ordered by the father
(Kelsen [1979] 1991, 222). The direction of fit of obligations places that
poor child in a classic double bind. This is just an example we are making
to illustrate why Searle maintains that the principle of non-contradiction
does not hold for obligations.
As he puts it, this is not “logically absurd”: “it is the nature of the
human condition” (ibid.).13
What this means, among other things, is that unlike Apel’s discourse
ethics,14 for example, Searle’s language-based ethics (and rationality) does
not necessarily require the principle of non-contradiction, at least as far
as world-to-mind representations are concerned.
The fourth and final remark is that the language-based ethics Searle
sketches out in his Conclusion is much more encompassing than the
institutions-based metaethics found in 1964.
He points out that, as human beings, we are all embedded in language,
and that by using it with the right intention we almost inevitably end
up creating desire-independent reasons for our actions—unless, and this
is an injected comment, one should decide to retreat into the life of a
hermit. But otherwise we will create such desire-independent reasons for
John Searle: From an Institutions-Based Metaethics to a … xv
action and these reasons include obligations, which, let it be reiterated,

may perfectly contradict one another, such that we may have double or
even multiple constraints on action that cannot all be satisfied.
As a coda, we would like to remark that, even if in the language-based
ethics proposed by Searle constitutive rules15 seem to play but a minor
role, in the Conclusion of his chapter one can still clearly recognize his
classical “X counts as Y in context C” formula:
For example, if you say, “You should support me, because I need help,”
you are committed to saying anyone similarly situated should also be
supported. (Chapter 1, p. 16)
where
1. the uttering of “You should support me, because I need help” would
play the role of X;
2. the undertaking of the obligation to say that anyone similarly situated
should also be supported would play the role of Y; and
3. the presence or absence of certain circumstances (e.g., a master/slave
relationship) would play the role of C.16
Acknowledgments Too many are the people to whom we owe our gratitude,
and it would be impossible to list them all. Thus, we will confine ourselves,
first and foremost, to thanking John R. Searle, who devoted much time to
discussing with us many of the issues raised by his chapter, and who in Milan
gave us the interview included in this volume.
This volume would not have been possible without the teachings of the late
Prof. Amedeo Giovanni Conte. It was Professor Conte who taught us how to
explore the several and unexpected philosophical implications and presupposi-
tions of the is/ought question, without biases toward the tradition this or that
thinker belongs to or toward lesser-known thinkers.
Further, we would like to wholeheartedly thank Carina Breidenbach for her
invaluable help in working through the many issues connected with this volume
and for the philosophically intriguing conversations that, in the company of
John R. Searle, we had with her when preparing it.
We would also like to give a special thanks to Roberta De Monticelli for
help, encouragement, and advice, that proved extremely valuable throughout
this project.
xvi P. Di Lucia and E. Fittipaldi
Finally, we would like to thank Thomas R. Searle for help during the proof-
reading of Chapters 1 and 2, Elisa Cacopardi for her help in styling the chapters
in this volume, as well as Filippo Valente, whose probing questions in copy-
editing our Introduction and Chapters 3, 9, 10, and 13–15 enabled us to spot
and resolve several issues that would otherwise have gone undetected.
Milan, Italy
December 2020
Notes
1. This section and the next one were authored by Paolo Di Lucia, while
Section 3 was authored by Edoardo Fittipaldi.
2. The connection between his derivation and the concepts of institutional
fact and of constitutive rule was clarified by Searle as early as 1969 (albeit
without the further developments that are discussed in Chapter 1 of this
volume). Here is what Searle wrote in 1969: “the whole proof rests on
an appeal to the constitutive rule that to make a promise is to under-
take an obligation, and this rule is a meaning rule of the ‘descriptive’
word ‘promise.’ For the old ‘No set of descriptive statements can entail
an evaluative conclusion without the addition of at least one evaluative
premise,’ we could substitute: ‘No set of brute fact statements can entail
an institutional fact statement without the addition of at least one consti-
tutive rule’” (185). The connections between ought-from-is derivations
and constitutive rules were explored by Jean-Louis Gardies in 1987, who
elaborated on the typology of constitutive rules proposed in Conte 1983.
(On Conte’s typology, see also Chapter 8 in this volume).
3. Here, we are tweaking the phrasing that Searle uses for statements
(Chapter 1, p. 9).
4. Searle refers to metaethics as a “second level moral philosophy
[concerned with] what it means to say what one ought to do”
(Chapter 1, p. 5). Incidentally, the Wirkungsgeschichte of Searle’s 1964
article in the field of metaethics is too vast to even think of trying
to list all those who contributed to it from this specific perspective—
a perspective, though, that, in Chapter 1, Searle himself turns out to
transcend.
5. Searle refers to ethics proper as the “ground floor moral philosophy
[concerned with] what one ought to do” (Chapter 1, p. 5).
John Searle: From an Institutions-Based Metaethics to a … xvii
6. The ethical purport of institutional facts was pointed out by Raphael

Ferber 1993 and 1994. However, still in 1999, Searle in his “Fact and
value, ‘is’ and ‘ought,’ and reasons for action” wrote that he “was not
trying to solve any problems in ethics,” and, more in general, spoke of
the “irrelevance for ethics” of his endeavor (166).
7. “Intuitively, lots of phenomena are mental in an obvious sense.
These would include not only intentional phenomena such as beliefs,
hopes, fears, and desires, but nonintentional phenomena such as pains
and states of undirected anxiety. Equally intuitively, there are many
phenomena that are totally independent of the mind, such as mountains,
molecules, and tectonic plates. In addition to these timeworn categories,
we need to introduce a class of phenomena that are not actually located in
our minds but are dependent on our attitudes. These would include money,
property, government, and marriage” (2010: 17, emphasis added). It is
precisely this third class of phenomena that social ontology deals with.
8. The reader should bear in mind that Searle uses the phrase “institutional
fact” in a very broad way.
9. To be sure, US dollar bills are made up of 75% cotton and 25% linen.
10. Hence the concept of collective intentionality, that we will not discuss
here.
11. Because institutional facts involve deontic powers (or a “deontology”),
they have, roughly speaking, both a factual and an evaluative compo-
nent.
12. In the Latin dictum veritas est adaequatio rei et intellectus—which in
Summa Theologiae (I, q. 16; a. 2, ad 2) Aquinas ascribes to Isaac Israeli
ben Solomon—res and intellectus are both in the genitive, and, arguably,
the former is an objective genitive, while the latter is a subjective one. In
Searle’s social ontology, it is only “declarations” that have both directions
of fit (cf. Searle 2010, 12, 69, 97). This is something we might want to
take note of even if it does not bear directly on the issues addressed in
this volume.
13. That being said, it is worth noting that Searle has elsewhere also taken
the view that it “is irrational [to] say simultaneously ‘Go!’ and ‘Stay!’
and … [to] make simultaneous promises both to go and to stay” (2001,
263). He has further remarked that “[o]ne cannot consistently … make
inconsistent promises and issue inconsistent orders, because … orders
… and promises are designed to cause actions, and there cannot be
inconsistent actions” (ibid.). And yet he also claims, just a few lines
later, that “obligations in general have no such [consistency] condition.
xviii P. Di Lucia and E. Fittipaldi
One can … be under inconsistent obligations”—just as he states in the

set-off passage quoted a moment ago in the main text. How is that
possible? We believe that the speech acts through which obligations
may come into being need to be carefully distinguished from obliga-
tions themselves, understood as products of the former. Searle’s consis-
tency constraint holds for commands and promises as speech acts singly
considered . In other words, while it is true that one cannot rationally
call into being two inconsistent obligations with a single command or
promise, one can very well call into being two inconsistent obligations
with two distinct commands or promises. This point may also cast light
on Searle’s critical attitude toward standard deontic logic. Let us intro-
duce a different (though related) example by considering the theorem
that “O(A&B) is identical with (OA)&(OB)” (von Wright 1951, 13;
see also Hilpinen and McNamara 2013, 38), even if we are not aware of
any passage where Searle expressly addresses it. On the basis of Searle’s
analysis, it can be concluded that (α) the single obligation to perform
A&B, which arises by virtue of a single speech act, cannot in any way
be regarded as identical with (β) the two distinct obligations to perform
A and B, which arise by virtue of two distinct speech acts. In deontic
logic, a corollary of distinguishing between (α) and (β) is that, whereas
OA&O~A is perfectly possible, O(A&~A) is not—at least not, if the
latter is understood as the result of a single speech act. In a sense, Searle’s
account is perfectly compatible with the weight that jurists have tradi-
tionally ascribed to the specific causae obligationum in explaining the
basis and nature of each single obligation: owing $1,000 dollars because
you destroyed someone’s painting is quite a different phenomenon than
owing $1,000 dollars because you purchased an airline ticket. Even
though these two obligations may be identical as to what they require
(namely, the payment of $1,000), they differ remarkably as to the “life”
or “story” they each embed, meaning that, depending on the cause which
gave rise to one obligation and the other, they will fall subject to different
rules (the statute of limitations in one case, a refund policy in the other,
different kinds of liability, etc.), whose application will in turn result in
different outcomes.
14. See the essays in Apel (1996).
15. For a more full discussion, see Searle 2001, 157ff.
16. Searle premises his argument on the “generality of language” (Chapter 1,
p. 16). This argument, though, is similar in some respects to Kant’s
universalizability. For a discussion of this similarity, see Baggini 2002.
John Searle: From an Institutions-Based Metaethics to a … xix
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von Wright, G.H. 1951. “Deontic Logic.” Mind, New Series 60 (237) (January
1951): 1–15.
Contents
John Searle: From an Institutions-Based Metaethics to a

Language-Based Ethics vii
Note on Contributors xxv
List of Tables xxvii
Part I
1 How to Derive “Ought” from “Is” Revisited 3

John R. Searle
2 An Interview with John R. Searle 17

xxi
xxii Contents
Part II
3 Is and Ought: Where Does the Problem Lie? 33

Pedro M. S. Alves
4 Searlean “Is” and “Ought” Revisited 59

Wojciech Żełaniec
5 Some Remarks on Searle’s View on the Logic

of Practical Reasoning 89
Marco Santambrogio
6 On the Regulative Functions of Constitutive Rules 107

Frederick Schauer
7 Existence as a Source of Normativity: An Alternative

to Searle’s View 121
Roberta De Monticelli
8 How to Derive Is from Ought 139

Amedeo Giovanni Conte
9 Searle vs. Conte on Constitutive Rules 157

Corrado Roversi
10 “Ought” Is Spoken in Many Ways 177

Paolo Di Lucia
11 Constitutive Rules, Criteria of Validity, and Law 191

Matthew Grellette
12 Can Constitutive Rules Bridge the Gap Between Is-

and Ought-Statements? 211
Frank Hindriks
Contents xxiii
13 Searle and Conte on Deriving Ought from Is 239

Jan Woleński
14 Why Moral Norms Cannot Be Reduced to Facts:

On a Trilemma in Derivations of Moral “Ought”
from “Is” 253
Wojciech Załuski
15 On Searle’s Derivation and Its Relation

to Constitutive Rules: A Social Scientist’s
Perspective 273
Edoardo Fittipaldi
Index of Names 325
Index of Subjects 333

Note on Contributors
Pedro M. S. Alves Professor of Philosophy at the University of Lisbon,

Portugal.
Amedeo Giovanni Conte Late Emeritus Professor of Philosophy of
Law at the University of Pavia, Italy; also Late Member of the Accademia
Nazionale dei Lincei, Italy.
Roberta De Monticelli Professor of Philosophy at the Vita–Salute San
Raffaele University of Milan, Italy.
Paolo Di Lucia Professor of Philosophy of Law at the University of
Milan, Italy.
Edoardo Fittipaldi Professor of Sociology of Law at the University of
Milan, Italy.
Matthew Grellette Professor of Moral and Legal Philosophy at the
McMaster University, Hamilton (ON).
Frank Hindriks Professor of Ethics, Social and Political Philosophy at
the University of Groningen, The Netherlands.
xxv
xxvi Note on Contributors
Corrado Roversi Professor of Philosophy of Law at the University of

Bologna, Italy.
Marco Santambrogio Professor of Philosophy of Language at the
University of Parma, Italy.
Frederick Schauer David and Mary Harrison Distinguished Professor
of Law at the University of Virginia, Charlottesville (VA), USA.
John R. Searle Retired Willis S. and Marion Slusser Professor of Philos-
ophy at the University of California, Berkeley (CA), USA.
Jan Woleński Professor of Philosophy at the University of Information,
Technology and Management, Rzeszów, Poland.
Wojciech Załuski Professor of Philosophy of Law and Legal Ethics at
the Jagellonian University of Kraków, Kraków, Poland.
Wojciech Żełaniec Professor of Social Philosophy at the University of
Gdańsk, Poland.
List of Tables
Chapter 7
Table 1 The Standard Ontological Partition 129
Table 2 The two axes of logical and ontological foundations 134
Chapter 15
Table 1 Types of counts-as legal provisions and legal-dogmatic
statements 303
xxvii
Part I
1
How to Derive “Ought” from “Is” Revisited
John R. Searle
1 History∗
In 1964, I published in the Philosophical Review an article entitled “How
to Derive ‘Ought’ from ‘Is’.” The article was many times reprinted, much
discussed, and much attacked. Here I will discuss the argument of the
article in light of the more than fifty years that have passed since then.
The article begins with a statement describing the intentional utter-
ance of words by a certain speaker and then it goes through a series of
steps with a conclusion stating what the speaker ought to do. I think
there is no question that the derivation is formally valid as it stands.
There is indeed a great deal of discussion about its implications, assuming
it is valid, and I want to discuss those in this chapter.
First of all, I need to say something about the historical situation in
which the article was originally written and published. This was in the
∗ This title and that of the following sections are by the editors.
J. R. Searle (B)
Berkeley, CA, USA
© The Author(s) 2021 3

P. Di Lucia and E. Fittipaldi (eds.),
Revisiting Searle on Deriving “Ought” from “Is”,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-54116-3_1
4 J. R. Searle
heyday of what was called “Ordinary Language Philosophy.” The ques-

tion whether an “ought” can be derived from an “is” of course derives
from Hume who, according to a standard interpretation of his works,
said that it is impossible to make such a derivation. The larger issue was
originally supposed to be about the metaphysical distinction between
fact and value. Is there a distinction in reality and ontology between
matters of fact and matters of value? It is important to emphasize that in
Oxford in the 1950s and 1960s the traditional issues were regarded with
contempt. It was just thought to be too vague to be worth discussing,
or probably even meaningless, to ask about the relation of fact and
value. Philosophy was not about metaphysical issues, about facts and
values, and all that stuff, it was about words. Philosophy consisted almost
entirely in the examination of language. The big debate within philos-
ophy was between those who thought the best tool for philosophy was
mathematical logic, and those who thought ordinary language was useful
both as a tool of investigation and as an object of study in its own right.
It is important to emphasize this because that is what the article is about;
it is not about fact and value, though I will discuss the implications of the
article for that issue. It is about a certain modal auxiliary verb, “ought,”
and its relation to certain other sorts of words.
It is important to keep repeating these points: in the 1950s and
1960s the important issues in philosophy were about verbs and adverbs,
because philosophy was entirely or almost entirely about words, about
language. For example, the problem of free will was largely about adver-
bial expressions like “freely,” “voluntarily,” “on purpose,” and other such
expressions. The conception of philosophy we had was, in Wittgen-
stein’s words, “one of the heirs of the discipline that used to be called
philosophy.” The traditional questions of philosophy were regarded with
contempt and derision, as were incidentally many of the traditional
famous philosophers. And the interesting questions were seen to be
pretty much entirely conceptual in nature. We were talking about words
and their use, and about logical implications among different types of
statements.
How then do traditional subjects fare under this conception of philos-
ophy? Well, the traditional subject of ethics was thought to be pretty
much entirely about the use of ethical terms like “good,” “bad,” “evil,”
“right,” and “wrong.” A standard text, indeed the first I have ever read in
moral philosophy, was Hare’s The Language of Morals (1952), but Patrick
Nowell-Smith’s book Ethics (1954) was also widely read and influential.
The central thesis of these books, and indeed the founding axiom of
moral and ethical philosophy, as practiced at the time, was that there
was a fundamental logical gulf between statements which are descriptive
and statements which are evaluative. A descriptive statement might be
“James is 6 feet tall” and an evaluative statement might be “James is a
good man.” The single most important proposition in ethical philosophy
was that it is impossible to derive any evaluative statement from any set
of descriptive statements. It is essential to add some evaluative premises
in order to make the derivation valid. This had enormous implications
for moral philosophy as traditionally construed. Moral philosophy tradi-
tionally was about what one ought to do. What sorts of things were
good? Which were bad? Which things were evil? Which were virtuous?
At the time I wrote that article, these issues were not regarded as part of
philosophy. Why? Because philosophers aim to state objective truths and
there is no such thing as objective truth where evaluative statements are
concerned. The fact that an evaluative statement cannot be derived from
a descriptive statement or a set of descriptive statements conclusively
showed that in the way descriptive statements can be true or false, eval-
uative statements cannot be true or false. This view itself was descended
from an earlier view where evaluative statements were said to be “emo-
tive.” The current view in Oxford in the 1950s and 1960s was more
sophisticated than the old “emotive” theory of ethics. But it was easily
seen as a descendant of that view: there is no such thing as objective
truth in ethics, and because philosophy aims to state objective truths, it
follows that there cannot be any moral or ethical statements in philos-
ophy. What then is the task of the moral or ethical philosopher? It is a
subject called metaethics; its aim is to describe the use of ethical terms
and logical behavior of ethical vocabularies. So, there is no such thing as
ground floor moral philosophy about what one ought to do, but there
is a second level moral philosophy about what it means to say what one
ought to do.
There were supposed to be historical origins for this conception, not
only in Hume, but more recently. The view that one can derive an
6 J. R. Searle
evaluative statement from a descriptive statement, or a set of descrip-

tive statements, was called the “Naturalistic Fallacy,” after G. E. Moore
(1903). It is no exaggeration to say that in the moral philosophy that I
was brought up on as an undergraduate, the entire subject was built on
the assumption that the naturalistic fallacy was indeed a fallacy, that it
was impossible to have objective truth and falsity where evaluations were
concerned. Traditional moral philosophy was regarded as obsolete.
It might seem from what I said that philosophy was not a very exciting
discipline in those days. Exactly the opposite is the case. It was incredibly
exciting, especially to young people, to feel that at last we have broken
out of the curse over two thousand years of mistaken assumptions about
the nature of the philosophical enterprise. We are at last free to move
in the open fields of pure, logical investigation, investigating verbs and
adverbs especially, but sometimes entire sentences and whole utterances.
The distinction between descriptive and evaluative was supposed to
be a perfectly general distinction, not unique to moral language. Moral
language was just a special case; it was just generally an instance of
a certain sort of use of words. And various discussions were given of
areas of evaluation that were not of any traditional philosophical interest.
Urmson (1953) wrote a famous article about grading apples and the idea
was that grading human behavior and moral discourse was no different
logically from grading apples when you are sorting them into different
qualities. Hare himself had a discussion of sewage effluents and how they
could be judged as good or bad. The assumption was that the impossi-
bility of moral philosophy as traditionally conceived had nothing special
to do with moral philosophy, that it was a consequence of a general
property of language, because it is a general feature of language that
you cannot derive an evaluative statement from any set of descriptive
statements.
The whole discussion seemed to me oddly self-contradictory because
the entire notion of something being a statement is already evaluative.
There is no question that there are internal criteria of assessment of state-
ments, the most famous and the easiest being: Is the statement true or
false? And to say that a statement is true or false is as much to give an
evaluation of it, as to say that an apple is good or bad. The very vocab-
ulary in which the naturalistic fallacy thesis was stated, the vocabulary
that it is impossible to derive an evaluative statement from any set of

descriptive statements, that very vocabulary already bridged the distinc-
tion between descriptive and evaluative because the very vocabulary itself,
words like “statement,” “valid,” “derive,” etc., have both evaluative and
descriptive components contained within the same concept. A concept
such as “truth” could be both objective and evaluative.
Now what is going on here? To explicate what is going on, I need
to introduce some more distinctions. The distinction between descrip-
tive and evaluative was a special case of a much broader distinction,
although this is seldom made explicit, the distinction between objective
and subjective. Descriptive statements can be matters of objective fact,
evaluative statements cannot, and there is always a subjective element
in the evaluative statement. So the idea was that, in order to make an
evaluative statement, you had first to make, so to speak, a leap, an eval-
uative leap, you had to decide on this criterion rather than that criterion
as the ground of the evaluation. The important point to see is that there
is no objective right or wrong about selecting the ultimate criterion
on the basis of which you make the evaluations. This was the deeper
distinction that underlay the evaluative/descriptive distinction, that one’s
evaluation could never be objective because it was always founded on
some subjective leap one had to make. Once again, however, it seems to
be extremely suspicious, because of course one does not have to make
a leap. As soon as one has said that something is a statement, one has
already said that there are certain criteria for its evaluation, such as
truth, consistency, evidence, and rationality. And all of those notions
themselves seem to contain the bridge between the so-called evaluative
and descriptive. The irony of the fundamental position of metaethics
in that era was, it seemed to me, that the very terminology in which
the thesis was stated, refuted the thesis being stated. If you understand
what it means to talk about a statement, about truth and validity, you
will see that all of these contain objective criteria for making what are
supposed to be subjective evaluations. The mistake derives at least in
part from confusing the features of the facts recorded from the features
of the statements. The fact itself may be completely neutral, James is
6 feet tall, but the statement “James is 6 feet tall” cannot be neutral, it
is subject to all sorts of evaluations. Is it true, false, rational, irrational,
8 J. R. Searle
supported by evidence, etc.? And those evaluations admit of completely

objective criteria of assessment. This was the internal contradiction that
one cannot derive an “ought” from an “is.”
This was the historical situation in which I was writing in 1964. I
can now go on to explicate features of the argument of “How to Derive
‘Ought’ from ‘Is’.” In the perfectly ordinary sense, to say that somebody
made a promise is to say that he created a valid reason for an action. And
the validity of the reason for an action would similarly ground a state-
ment about what he ought to do. And of course, the fact that he made
a promise follows from the fact that he made a certain sort of utter-
ance with a certain sort of intention. So the general fact that evaluative
components were features of descriptive concepts had a special case in
the case of promising.
As soon as I published the article, I discovered some interesting
facts. One is that philosophers who said we were not really interested
in the traditional ethical distinctions, in fact were not entirely consis-
tent. They immediately jumped in to say that my claim was not really
about ethics. The answer, of course, was that ethics as a subject was
either uninteresting or did not exist at all. My claim was about certain
types of utterances, and those were interesting and were important for
philosophy. I demanded that we take seriously the notion of language.∗
But what I discovered to my surprise was that people who pretended
to be interested in modal auxiliary verbs and not in metaphysics were
actually more interested in metaphysics than they were in the verbs.
However, there were certain standard criticisms of the derivation that
seemed to me, without exceptions, to be inadequate and indeed typically
∗ As for John Searle’s conception of language, it should be recalled that in an interview Searle
gave us on May 5, 2017, he stated the following: “When I wrote that article I thought, much
as Wittgenstein, that language consisted of constitutive rules, like games. The problem is that
you cannot explain language by appealing to games because games require language. You have
to be able to state the rules of football in a language. Without language, you cannot have
games like football, baseball, chess, checkers. You can have just throwing a ball, but in order
to have a real game—with points, and winning and losing—you have to have a language. So
you cannot explain language by appealing to games. Games do have constitutive rules but in
language what you have is that constitutive rules are encoded in meanings. So the meaning
of the word promise is such that when you make a promise you commit yourself. So, there
is a constitutive rule but the constitutive rule, unlike the case of games, is not something in
addition to meaning, it is meaning.” (Footnote by the editors.)
to miss the whole point of the derivation. I will mention two of these.
First, the standard objection to my account was that it presupposed that
someone already made an evaluation of promising, that they had thought
somehow the institution of promising was a good thing or desirable, and
consequently I did not really derive an “ought” from an “is,” but only
an “ought” from an “ought” that somehow we already approved of. It
seemed to me once again they missed the whole point of the derivation.
The point here is that, once you use words, you are already committed
by the literal meanings of those words together with the intention to use
those words with that literal meaning. No extra attitude is essential to
take toward the institution. If I say it is raining out, and you point out
to me that it is a lie, I cannot evade my responsibility and say: “Well
I never liked the institution of making statements very much anyway.”
Whether I approve or disapprove of the institution of making statements
is totally irrelevant to the fact that utterances of words commit me, and
what I pointed out in that article was that the utterance of the word
“promise,” taken quite literally, commits you regardless of your attitudes
to promising. Suppose you think that promising is bad for one’s mental
health, all the same, when you use the word “promise” literally you are
committed to its literal meaning, your attitudes toward the institution
are totally irrelevant. I cannot tell you how often this mistake was made
in criticizing my views.
A second objection was that I had to use the ceteris paribus clause.
If you make a promise, other things being equal, you are committed
in accordance with the constitutive rules of the institution. I block the
ceteris paribus clause by simply postulating that other things were equal,
and the question arose as to whether or not that was somehow evaluative.
I do not think that the substantive issue in this derivation has much to
do with the ceteris paribus clause. However, it does raise important issues
about the direction of fit, and I am going to say something more about
that later.
What exactly does the word “ought” mean? “Ought” is systemati-
cally ambiguous between a practical and a theoretical sense, where the
practical sense is primary. To put it briefly, “ought” statements express
reasons, and in the case of the practical sense, reasons for action. To
say that somebody ought to do something implies that there is a valid,
10 J. R. Searle
good reason for his doing it. So the question whether “ought” can be
derived from “is” amounts to the question, can there be objective state-
ments about reasons for action, where objectivity is guaranteed by the
fact that they are derived from straightforward statements of fact?
2 Developments
Everything I have said so far, I could have said in the mid-1960s and I
probably did say that in the various responses to debates. Now I want to
talk about some of the developments in my thinking about these matters
since then, because they will probably deepen the points I have been
making so far. I have said that the question of deriving “ought” from “is”
is a question about the objectivity of statements in ethics, but the notions
of objectivity and subjectivity are some of the most confused notions in
contemporary intellectual life and it was only later that I sorted them out.
There are two distinctive senses of the objective/subjective distinction,
an ontological sense and an epistemic sense. Epistemically, the distinc-
tion is between types of claims: some claims have truths that can be
established as “objective matters of fact,” others are matters of subjective
opinion. The fact that Van Gogh died in France is epistemically objec-
tive, the claim that Van Gogh was a much better painter than Gauguin
is, as they say, a matter of subjective opinion. Underlying the epistemic
sense is an ontological distinction, between those entities whose mode
of existence requires being experienced by a human or animal subject,
and those whose mode of existence does not. So, mountains, molecules,
and tectonic plates are all ontologically objective, they exist whatever we
think of them, and they do not give a damn about us. But pains, tickles,
and itches exist only as experienced by human or animal subjects, they
have ontological subjectivity. The importance of this distinction—and I
did not know this in the mid-1960s, because I only made the distinction
much later—is that the ontological subjectivity of a domain does not
preclude the epistemic objectivity of statements about that domain. This
is going to be important in light of the next distinction. In our discus-
sion of reality, we need to make a distinction between those features that
are observer-independent and those that are observer-relative. Observer-

independent facts in the world do not depend on anybody’s attitudes;
observer-relative facts only exist because of people’s attitudes. So, the fact
that this object in my hand is a piece of paper, a set of cellulous fibers
does not depend on any outside attitudes. But the fact that it is a $20 bill
is observer-relative, it depends on the attitudes that people have that it is
a $20 bill. The reason that this is important for the present discussion
is that all observer-relative phenomena have at least an element of onto-
logical subjectivity, that is, the observer-relative fact that this is a $20
bill derives its observer-relativity from ontologically subjective attitudes
that people have. Now, with that in mind, let us turn to the questions of
ethics. Is ethics observer-relative or observer-independent? Well, one of
the ways to test this is to subtract all human beings and see if it will still
exist. Here, it seems to me plainly that it will not. Ethics is dependent
on the attitudes of humans and other sentient beings.
Now, with these distinctions in mind let us turn to the old meta-
physical distinction between fact and value. There clearly are facts in
the world, the fact that hydrogen atoms have one electron. But, what
about values? The fact that justice is a positive value and that injustice
is a negative value, is that also part of the world? Well, the distinctions
we just made bear on this. Values are always observer-relative, thus the
existence of values has an element of ontological subjectivity. Why is that
important? Well, the old metaphysical urge was to say that values cannot
lie in the world of stones, trees, and mountains. And there is something
right about that. Why? Because nothing that lies in the world in that way
could have the consequences of values. What are these consequences?
Well, the immediate consequence of values is that the recognition of
value, as such, provides a rational motivation for behavior, and this is
where the issue about deriving “ought” from “is” comes in, because if
we can derive “ought” from “is,” then we can derive rational statements
of reasons that are capable of motivating rational behavior. So, values
are observer-relative and thus contain an element of ontological subjec-
tivity. But the question of how to derive “ought” from “is” is still left
open, because, and this is the most important point, the existence of
an ontologically subjective component in the domain under description
does not preclude epistemically objective statements made about that
12 J. R. Searle
domain. And that seems to me exactly right. We can make objectively

true statements of value even though the domain of values is ontologi-
cally subjective. To repeat the point made earlier, ontological subjectivity
does not preclude epistemic objectivity.
Well, let’s go to the next step. What sorts of issues then are relevant in
discussions of ethics? The answer here, it seems to me to be quite clear,
is that ethics as a domain is largely concerned with desire-independent
reasons for action. Now what does that mean? Well, suppose every-
body acted all the time according to their impulses of the moment, this
seems to be how animals behave, then for such beings there would be
no domain of ethics. Ethics is concerned with a set of reasons that we
have for acting, where the reasons provide for a valid reason for the
action, independently of whether or not we are otherwise inclined to
perform that action. So, to take an example, I am lecturing in Helsinki,
and I had a reason for coming to Helsinki on a particular day even
if on that particular day I do not much feel like going to Helsinki. I
have to go to Helsinki because I made a promise; I created a desire-
independent reason for acting. What I actually think is that all ethics
is about desire-independent reasons for acting. So the question that we
have now evolved from the earlier “How to Derive ‘Ought’ from ‘Is’”
is: Can there be objective statements of desire-independent reasons for
acting? Well, the statements are epistemically objective, in a sense that is
perfectly clear, because they are logically derivable from statements that
are obviously epistemically objective. And this example seems to me a
case in point where we clearly have such statements. From the fact that
I made a promise, it follows that I had a reason for doing something.
And of course that reason can be overridden by other reasons, it may
not succeed in motivating me, but all the same I have created an epis-
temically objective reason for doing something. Now the question arises,
what is the status of these desire-independent reasons? How can they
motivate? How can they be created? Well, I will not go into detail, I
have written about this in a book called Rationality in Action. But to
put it very crudely, the thesis that I want to advance is not only that all
ethics is about desire-independent reasons for action, but that all desire-
independent reasons for action are self-created. I do not have space to
provide an exhaustive proof here, but I will give a short explanation and
an example. The rational agent has to create the reasons for acting, either
by explicit action such as making a promise, or by the recognition of
some state of affairs that requires alleviation. The state of affairs, let’s say
the starvation of children in Africa, is intolerable, and I am creating a
reason for myself to do something about it. A desire-independent reason
for action for someone has to be created by that agent. But now, we
have a puzzle, and the puzzle is how these desire-independent reasons
for action can ever motivate if every voluntary action is then and there
the expression of the desire to perform that action. I cannot perform the
action of going to Helsinki unless I have some motivation, some desire
to go to Helsinki. And here, I want to make another important point
and that is that, rationally speaking, the recognition of the validity of a
desire-independent reason for acting can provide the ground of a desire
to perform that action. It does not always work, but it can perform the
ground of a desire. So, I make a promise to do something, I recognize
the validity of the promise and I recognize that I ought to do it because
I promised. Now, it does not follow from that that I have an urge to do
it, that I have any desire to do it. But the desire-independent reason can
provide the ground of a desire. The particularity of desire-independent
reasons is that in these cases, the desire to perform the action is based on
the reason, rather than the reason being based on the desire to perform
the action. This is a remarkable feature of human rationality: it can
provide precisely this sort of motivation. And that seems like a mystery, it
seems like a miracle. Let me give a case where it obviously works. It obvi-
ously works in the theoretical domain. You receive very bad news from
your doctor; your test shows that you have a very serious ailment. You do
not want to believe that, you have a desire not to believe that. But all the
same, you have a desire-independent reason, namely truth, for accepting
something that you do not wish to accept. Rationality as such can ground
the desires that are based on desire-independent reasons. I have to say,
of course, that they can, not that they inevitably do, because often one
recognizes the validity of a desire-independent reason for action, but all
the same one just does not do it, one feels no urge, motive, or inclination
to do it.
I promised to say something about the “other things being equal”
clause and as it is philosophically very important I will conclude with
14 J. R. Searle
that issue. It is important to see that it derives from the direction of

fit of our representation. If I made a promise, other things being equal, I
ought to do the thing I promised to do. But nobody ever says, well, other
things being equal, 2 + 2 = 4. You can imagine circumstances where
you might do that, but they are distinctly odd. Yet, it seems inevitable in
the practical cases that there have to be considerations of other counter-
vailing or interfering features. What is going on? The aim of beliefs and
typical statements is to represent how things are, but the aim of desires
and all sorts of other speech acts is not to represent how things are, but
how we intend to make them, how we would like them to be, how we are
supposed to make them. They do not match an independently existing
reality, but they are representations of possible states of affairs. Now it is
very important to see that there can be valid, but inconsistent represen-
tations concerning the same state of affairs. I can want to be in Helsinki
at a certain time at a certain day, yet at the very same time, want to be
somewhere else. There is nothing logically absurd about having incon-
sistent desires, about knowingly having inconsistent desires, in the way
there is something absurd about knowingly having inconsistent beliefs. If
I have inconsistent beliefs, I have to give up at least one of them. When
it comes to rational forms of practical reason, it is perfectly possible for
it to be the case that I have a binding obligation to do act A and I have
a binding obligation not to do act A. So, it ought to be the case with
respect to the first that I do A and to be the case that I do not do A.
Now this worries a lot of people. They think this is somehow or other
logically absurd. It is not, it is the nature of the human condition. So
when we say that when I make a promise to do something, with other
things being equal, I ought to do it, what we are saying is that there are
considerations in favor of my doing it, but of course there may well be
considerations of my not doing it. I ought to do it with respect to one set
of considerations, but I maybe ought not to do it with respect to another
set of considerations. So, if we are just going to do the straightforward “X
ought to do Y,” then we have to block the possibility that there are coun-
tervailing considerations against X doing Y. The situation is that simple,
but it is an important consequence of direction of fit. It is important to
say all of this because the earlier versions of Deontic Logic had it as an
axiom of the system that if one ought to do A, then it followed that it
is not the case that one ought not to do A. But it does not follow, it
can be both the case that one ought to do things and one ought not to
do things, because of the direction of fit. One can have equally valid,
competing reasons for inconsistent courses of action.
3 Conclusion
There is a traditional distinction between facts and values and that is
an interesting distinction. In the heyday of linguistic philosophy, that
distinction was thought as a distinction between different kinds of state-
ments: evaluative statements (which are supposed to be subjective) and
descriptive or factual statements (which are supposed to be objective).
It is a consequence of that distinction that you cannot derive an ought
from an is. But obviously the very terminology in which that impossi-
bility is expressed, “derivation,” “statement,” “belief,” and so on, all that
shows that you have epistemically objective norms, normative criteria,
for judging something to be true or false. So we can easily derive an
ought from an is.
Now, there are still reasons for assuming that it is right that you cannot
derive an ought from an is. And they are still reasons from the tradi-
tional issue about the objectivity of ethics: Can it be possible that there
can be a discipline that is epistemically objective, but at the same time
normative? And I would say, to a certain extent, yes there can be. Why?
Because it can be epistemically objective that there are norms, norms of
that sort where you create and recognize the validity and then act on
desire-independent reasons for actions.
However, there are two remarkable features of these phenomena.
One is that there are always reasons to create desire-independent
reasons for actions that can only function rationally to the extent that
I create them myself as my own application of my ethical principles.
Many people just ignore this attitude, but in fact, you are responsible for
the creation, maintenance, and acceptance of your desire-independent
reasons for action.
16 J. R. Searle
Furthermore, the very generality of language requires that if you

appeal to features of your own case, then the principles must be general-
izable. For example, if you say, “You should support me, because I need
help,” you are committed to saying anyone similarly situated should also
be supported. So the original idea that there is an ultimate trivial ques-
tion, “Can you derive ‘ought’ from ‘is’?” opens the way to all those other
questions, some of which I think may be interesting to explore in some
detail. I hope you will explore them on your own, so that we might think
about them in the future.
References
Hare, R. M. 1952. The Language of Morals. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
Moore, G. E. 1903. Principia Ethica. London: Cambridge University Press.
Nowell-Smith, P. H. 1954. Ethics. London: Penguin Books.
Urmson, J. O. 1953. Logic and Language. Oxford: Basil Blackwell.
2
An Interview with John R. Searle
1 Wittgenstein
Question 1. What role did Wittgenstein play in your philosophy, and in
particular in your social ontology?
Searle. I guess the short answer is Wittgenstein did not play any role
in my theory of social ontology. And the sense in which I have been
influenced by Wittgenstein is the sense in which I regard his later
philosophy as a challenge to everything that I try to do. Wittgenstein
thought that it was impossible that we should have a general theory of
language and a general theory of the mind and that philosophy should
not attempt such things. He thought that the only task for philosophy
was to remove confusions generated by misunderstanding language and
This interview is being published here as a supplement to Searle’s chapter, with Searle
responding to questions from the editors of this volume. Questions 1, 2, 5, and 6 were
asked by Paolo Di Lucia, while questions 3, 4, and 7 were asked by Edoardo Fittipaldi.
P. Di Lucia (B) · E. Fittipaldi

University of Milan, Milan, Italy
© The Author(s) 2021 17

P. Di Lucia and E. Fittipaldi (eds.),
Revisiting Searle on Deriving “Ought” from “Is”,
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-54116-3_2
18 P. Di Lucia and E. Fittipaldi
that the right way to understand language was to see the speaking of
language as playing a sequence of language games, but there is no essence
of language; he says that there are countless different uses of language.
Now, I think that is mistaken. I think there is an essence of language
and it is captured in English by the notion of meaning. What is it to
say something and to mean something? And I think it is possible to
give a general account of language. And so, since Wittgenstein was the
most important contemporary philosopher when I began to study that
subject, it was easy for me to regard his skepticism about the nature of my
enterprise as a serious challenge. So there is a sense in which my mature
work in philosophy is an attempt to answer Wittgenstein. Wittgenstein
thought that a general theory of language is impossible, I give you a
general theory of language. Wittgenstein says that a general theory of
mind is impossible, I give a general theory of mind. He thought that it is
impossible to describe the essence of linguistic representation, I precisely
think you can describe that. So I am answering Wittgenstein but not
following Wittgenstein. Let me say, of course, there are two Wittgen-
steins. There is the early Wittgenstein of the Tractatus, where he did think
there is an essence of language. The aim of language is to represent, and
representation is possible because of the pictorial relation between the
Satz and the Tatsache, between the proposition and the fact represented
by the proposition. When he saw that that account did not work, he
then despaired of getting any account. Now that is why I part company.
I agree that his first account does not work, but I think that it is possible
to give an account that does work.
2 Deontics
Question 2.1. What is the relevance of deontic concepts for the investi-
gation of social ontology and, in particular, is there any relation between
your concept of deontic power and the classical concepts of deontic logic,
such as “permitted,” “obligatory,” “forbidden” (cf. von Wright 1951)?
Searle. Well, for me the essence of social ontology is trying to figure out
how human beings differ from other social animals. All social animals
share collective intentionality. But human beings are quite different
because, not only do they have group behavior, they have money and
property and government and marriage and universities as well as cock-
tail parties and summer vacations and television programs. Now how is
that possible? And I argue that all that and much else is made possible
by a single logico-linguistic operation whereby we count something as
something that it is not intrinsically. And, if we ask what is the point
of doing that or why we create money and private property, the answer
is that it increases our powers enormously. But what kind of powers are
they? And this is where the notion of deontology comes in: these are
deontic powers, because they are rights, duties, obligations, authoriza-
tions, permissions, and so on. That is the remarkable thing about human
beings: no other social animal that I know has obligations in the way that
human beings have obligations, and they could not, because to have an
obligation you have to have the concept, and to have the concept you
have to have some linguistic means of expressing or representing it, and
if you do not have that it will not work.
So that is the first question: How does deontology relate to society
and the answer is that the essence of human society is deontology. Now
the next question is: How is this related to the traditional deontic logics?
Well, the ones that I have seen are very superficial and misleading. A
typical axiom in the early days of deontic logic was that if it is obligated
to be the case that p, then it is not obligated to be the case that not
p. But that is wrong, and the problem has to do with the direction of
fit. It is perfectly possible to knowingly and consistently have conflicting
obligations. I am under an obligation to be in Milano today and also
under an obligation to be in Berkeley and I have to choose between the
two, and here I am in Milano. But conflicting obligations are perfectly
possible and the standard way they worked in the early days of deontic
logic was to overdraw the analogy with the formal structure of necessity
and possibility. So you get the law of modal interchange: if it is neces-
sarily the case that p, then it is not possible that not p, similarly, if it
is obligatory that p, then it is not permitted that not p. And that is ok,
but it does not allow for the fact of conflicting obligations of the sort
that I describe. So, in short, I think deontic logic is a kind of interesting
little offshoot of modal logic, but the deontic logics that I have seen
are not really powerful instruments. However deontology is the essence
of the distinction between human civilization and other forms of social

animals. That is crucial for understanding human beings.
Question 2.2. Do you think that there is a deontic concept that is more
fundamental than others?
Searle. As you know, you can do this via definitional equivalence, but
clearly something like the notion of an obligation is essential to the
functioning of human society. Why? Well, because to the extent that
people recognize that they have obligations, they recognize that they have
reasons for acting that are independent of their desires and inclinations.
So there are desire-independent reasons for action. That is crucial in my
whole account of social ontology, and in English the favorite word for
expressing that is “obligation,” but there are other notions that could be
picked. I just know this is the easiest word and it is fundamental from
the point of view of human psychology because much of figuring out
what you are supposed to do is figuring out what your obligations are:
there are obligations as a professor, as a father, as a citizen, as a friend. So
obligation is for me the most important notion.
The typical way of vulgarizing the notion of an obligation is to say:
Well, it is just a desire like any other. My desire to keep my obliga-
tions is like my desire to drink a beer. And I think those are totally
different. I think that Kant was right to say they are different. Now, it is
essential that you be able to connect the notion of obligation to desire
because—roughly speaking—you cannot do anything voluntarily unless
you want to do it. But you can do things because you have an obliga-
tion to do them, even if you do not otherwise want to do them. How
is that possible? Kant faced this very question, when he asked, how can
pure reason be practical. And as usual, he cheated like crazy. He did not
even answer that question. He says, “Well, it’s the big question of the
noumenon and the phenomenon.” No, I do not think it is. I think it is
the question about the role of rationality. And the key for understanding
the role of desire-independent reasons for action in rationality is to see
that the recognition of the validity of a desire-independent reason for
action, such as an obligation, can form the ground of a desire to perform
that action. So you have an obligation to go to Milano, but you would
rather just stay home in bed, but you recognize the validity of that obli-
gation and that recognition of the validity of the obligation can form the
ground of the formation of a desire to do the thing you are obligated to

do. So in this case the obligation is the ground of the desire, and not the
desire the ground of the obligation. So it is not true to say: “But really
the only reason you fulfill your obligations is that you feel this lust, urge,
or yen to fulfill your obligations.” No, it is because you recognize the
validity of the obligation that you can form a desire to do it. Now, I
say “can.” But it doesn’t always work. Often you recognize the validity
of an obligation, but you do not do it, you do not form the desire. So
the way that I have a desire to fulfill my obligations is totally different
from my desire to drink a beer. In the case of drinking a beer, it is just
because I want to drink a beer, but in the case of keeping my obligation,
it is because I recognize the validity of the obligation that I can form
the desire to fulfill that obligation: it is that I have a yen, a lust, an urge
to fulfill my obligation. Now you might ask: How is that possible? And
the answer to that is to see how it works for theoretical reason. There
are many propositions I do not want to believe. But as soon as I recog-
nize their truth, I have a ground for wanting to believe them, namely,
that they are true. So in the case of theoretical reason it is obvious how
the desire-independent reason for an action, namely the recognition of
truth, can be the ground of a desire to perform the action, namely, to
accept the proposition that I recognize as true. And if that works in the
theoretical case then it can also work in the practical case where we are
recognizing an obligation to do something.
3 Norms, Validity, Logic

Question 3. In your last answer you talked about the validity of an
obligation. Could you explain what you mean by this term “validity”?
Searle. This is a little more complicated, but basically the underlying
idea is this: in order that a desire-independent reason for acting should
function for an agent it has to be created by the agent. So the agent
creates the desire-independent reasons for action. Now, often there is a
form of bad faith, of cheating, and that is just where you go with the
crowd and do what everybody else is doing. But you are still responsible,
and to the extent that you are acting rationally the desire-independent
reason for action has to be created by you. Now, often the agent will
simply recognize that he is within a system, and he recognizes the validity
of the system. So when I am in Milano, I do not have to create the system
of laws of Milano, I just recognize the validity of the system and that
gives me desire-independent reasons for action. But all the same, they
are created by my rational self. I am the guy who has to decide: “Do
I accept the system?” And I do accept the local system in Milano. If it
turned out to be fascist, or awful in some other way, I might reject it.
But in so far as I can see, it is perfectly legitimate, so I accept it. I am
saying this is the basic idea: There is a question of social validity and
that is largely a matter of what people accept. They accept the status
of money and that makes it money, they accept the status of private
property and that makes it private property. However, when it comes
to my own decision as to what I am going to do, my recognition of the
validity of the desire-independent reason has to perform the basis of my
acting on the desire-independent reason.
4 Constitutive Rules
Question 4.1. When did you first encounter constitutive rules?
Searle. I think it was in 1962, when I was working on speech acts. It
occurred to me that some rules do not just regulate—of course all rules
regulate, by definition—but some rules create the very possibility of the
activity that they regulate, and the philosophers’ example is always chess,
but any game would do as an example. You are only playing the game
if you are acting in accordance with the rules. Now, what I did not see
then, in 1962, is that the rules of games are really different from the rules
of language. I thought, as many did then—and this was part of the atmo-
sphere of that time—that we should think that speaking a language was
like playing a game, to use Wittgenstein’s analogy, but in fact it is really
quite different because you can have language without games, but you
cannot have games without language. So, the sense in which a language
is a system of constitutive rules is quite different from the sense in which
games are systems of constitutive rules. Now, what exactly is the differ-
ence? Well, the constitutive rules of statement making, together with the
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Mismoedig en troosteloos het ek op die was wat ek opgemaak het,
gaan sit en die dag van my geboorte verwens. Ek kan nie onthou dat
ek al ooit van te vore so sleg gevoel het of so ontevrede met my lot
was nie. Meteens hoor ek voetstappe kort agter my. Ek draai my om
en kyk in die skelm oë van die man wat ek die allerminste sou
verlang het om te sien. Neef, ek moet erken dat al die onderdrukte
hartstogte van die laaste ag maande my in ’n oogwenk oormeester
het, en as daar ’n wapen op die oomblik binne my bereik was, sou
ek ’n moord begaan het. Ja, as Freek my ook in die minste
beledigend aangespreek het, soos hy in die laaste tyd nooit nagelaat
het om te doen nie, dan sou ek hom daar en dan op die plek verwurg
het. Begryp dus my verbasing toe hy ewe saggies—ten minste so
vals vleiend as hy kon—vir my goeiendag sê en na my welstand en
dié van tant Lenie verneem. Ek was so uit die veld geslaan dat ek
niks kon antwoord nie.
„Is dit nou weer een van Freek se skelmstreke? dog ek by myself,
en opnuut sien ek net rooi.
„‚Kyk hier, Freek, as jy weer gekom het om met my te spot en jou
in my ellende te verheug, dan hoe gouer jy jou pestelike
teenwoordigheid hier verwyder hoe beter, anders begaan ek so
waaragtig as wat ek lewe vandag ’n moord!’
„Maar Freek bly maar staan, en hoewel hy so effentjies bleker
word, gaan hy voort: ‚Nee, Omie, ek kom nie spot nie; ek kom
besigheid praat.’
„‚Besigheid!’ skree ek; ja neef, ek het nou nie meer gepraat nie.
‚Besigheid! Jou godvergete niksnuts! Praat jy van besigheid met my
wat jy tot die bedelaarstaf gebring het! ... Vrou!’ brul ek, en my stem
het vir my eie ore vreemd geklink, ‚Vrou, bring hier die roer; hier is ’n
duiwel en ek wil hom hel-toe stuur, waar hy tuis hoort!’
„Neef, ek wens jy kon Freek se gesig toe gesien het. Al die sluheid
het soos ’n toorslag daarvan verdwyn en plek gemaak vir bange
vrees. Die vent was op daardie oomblik nog afskuweliker as die
lelikste onder die beeste. Wat praat ek van beeste? Dis ’n belediging
vir die diere om die laagste onder hulle met so ’n skepsel te
vergelyk.
„Op hierdie moment verskyn my vrou op die toneel, anders huiwer
ek om te dink wat sou gebeur het. Jy weet sy het altyd ’n
kalmerende invloed op my, neef. Sy is ’n engel, neef, en sy hoort nie
op die aarde tuis nie. Ek wonder wat sy ooit in my kon gesien het om
met my te trou? Haar gelyke loop daar nie op hierdie wêreld rond
nie. Maar, neef, ek dwaal af van my storie. So gaan dit altyd as ek
van tant Lenie begin te praat. Jy weet, neef...”
„Ja, Oom, ek weet daar is maar net een tant Lenie op hierdie ou
aardbol. En wat maak Oom toe?”
„Toe maak ek niks, neef. Wat kon ek maak met daardie
verwytende blik van tant Lenie op my gerig? Soos ek reeds hierbo
opgemerk het, neef, is sy mos nie ’n gewone mens nie en....”
„Ja, Oom, sy is ’n engel. Maar wat het Freek toe gemaak?”
„Freek het ook niks gemaak nie, neef; hy het net sy droë lippe
natgelek en toe stamel hy voordat ek nog weer die woord kan kry:
‚Maar oom Piet, ek kom met Oom reëlinge tref oor die afbetaling van
die £1,500 wat ek aan Oom skuld!’
„Ek kon maar nog nie glo dat Freek dit opreg meen nie en wou net
vorentoe spring om hom aan sy strot te gryp, toe ek weer daardie
selfde verwytende blik van tant Lenie gewaar. Neef, het jy al ooit ’n
vrou met sulke oë gesien? Die diepte van die hemel en die teerheid
van...”
„Ja, Oom, dis waar. Tant Lenie het wonderlike oë, maar Oom het
laas opgehou by Freek se strot en die kontras tussen tant Lenie se
hemelse oë en....”
„Ja, neef, dis ook waar; ek dwaal alte maklik af as ek van tant
Lenie praat.”
„‚Gee vir Freek ’n kans om te sê wat hy te vertel het, en bedwing
jouself, Piet,’ sê tant Lenie op daardie sagte dog gebiedende toon
wat haar alleen eie is. Jy weet, neef, ek glo nie daar is nog ’n vrou
met so ’n stem soos tant Lenie nie. As sy praat dan....”
„Dan moet Oom stilbly. Maar het Freek toe besigheid gepraat?”
„Hy het, neef. Hy transporteer sy huisie, sy biljartkamer en sy kafè
op my naam, en boonop betaal hy my £500 kontant as ek wil afsien
van die £1,500 wat ek indertyd vir hom moes inbetaal en my mond
wil hou. Wat hy met die laaste sin bedoel, weet ek nie, want ek het
buitendien nooit oor hierdie ou transaksie gepraat nie. Maar ek het
darem belowe.
„Ek wou eers nie sy geld en goed vat nie, en was dit nie dat ek
voor my oë gesien het hoedat tant Lenie by die dag agteruit gaan
nie, dan het ek hom eerder by die gruisgat afgeskop. Maar die
gesondheid en die welstand van tant Lenie het die deurslag gegee
en ek het sy aanbod aanvaar.
„Maar, neef, weet jy miskien wat Freek beweeg het om dit te
doen? Dis opmerklik dat dit juis gebeur het op die dag van jou
besoek.” En hier kyk oom Pieter my so stip in die oë dat my gesig
amper die geheim verklap het.
„En wanneer is Freek dan toe weg van Kreepoort af?”
„Ek sal vertel, neef. Ja, die arme Freek het dit die laaste week
voor sy vertrek maar smoor gehad hier op die delwery. Het jy al
gehoor hoedat Jan Pieterse, sy voorman, hom deur-geloop het? Ek
het nie, sê jy. Maar man, dan was jy amper een van die beste
grappe kwyt wat hier ooit plaasgevind het... Het jy al ooit opgelet hoe
daar in party diere meer karakter sit as in ander van dieselfde soort?
Ek herinner my nog goed dat my pa twee osse gehad het: die een
was ’n skoorsoeker van die eerste water en baie parmantig, maar by
die werk het hy maar min beteken en het hy geen hart gehad nie,
terwyl die ander weer goed van geaardheid was en ’n baastrekker.
Jentelman was ’n vooros en, soos ek reeds aangemerk het, ’n
staatmaker. Net agter hom het Koerland getrek, wat dit nooit kon
nalaat om Jentelman net wanneer hy die kans kry ’n gevoelige stoot
met sy skerp horings te gee nie. In die veld het Jentelman gewoonlik
padgegee, maar in die juk was dit natuurlik buite die kwessie, en ek
het al die idee begin te kry dat die vooros maar ’n bangbroek was.
Op ’n goeie dag het ons gebraak en die osse het noustrop getrek.
Elke keer by die draai moes die arme Jentelman dit ontgeld en die
skerp horings van Koerland voel. Om twaalfuur word afgehak om die
osse ’n paar uur rus te gee. By so ’n geleentheid gee Jentelman
gewoonlik ver pad vir Koerland en gaan hy rustig op sy wei, maar
vandag kon ’n mens somar aan sy hele houding sien dat sy geduld
uitgeput was. Om ’n lang storie kort te maak: Koerland het die eerste
die beste kans gevat om Jentelman ’n gevoelige stoot in die ribbekas
te gee. En toe was die gort gaar. Jentelman spring om, en daar is die
twee diere aanmekaar. Koerland kon vir ’n maand lank nie ploeg trek
nie.
„Nou, neef, so wou ek maar sê is dit by die mens net soos by die
dier; en jy wat so baie met mense te doen het, sal dit wel self al
opgemerk het. Ek wou maar net duidelik gemaak het dat Jan
Pieterse my altyd aan Jentelman, en Freek Willemse my aan
Koerland laat dink het.
„Baiekeer as ek verby Willemse se kleim stap, het ek moes
aansien en aanhoor hoe Freek die arme Jan Pieterse boelie. Ek het
dié Jan bewonder vir sy geduld en verdraagsaamheid, maar in my
hart het ek hom tog as lafaard bestempel.
„Een agtermiddag moes ek daar weer verby en hoor hoe Freek die
arme Jan slegsê en uitvloek. Dit was net die dag na hy sy huisie en
die ander twee geboue op my getransporteer het. Jy weet mos hoe
praat Freek, nè, as die duiwel in hom gevaar het. Hy begin
daaronder in die diepte, en sy stem klim altoos hoër en hoër totdat
dit eindelik in ’n langgerekte gehuil—soos dié van ’n nadroejakkals—
wegsterf. Nie tevrede om Jan uit te maak vir alles wat laag en
gemeen is nie, en dit nogal in die teenwoordigheid van die kaffers,
spring hy naderhand af in die kleim waar Jan en die volk werk, en
gee sy voorman ’n raps met sy handsambok dwars oor sy kop. Neef,
glo my as ek jou sê, dit was weer ’n Jentelman en ’n Koerland wat ek
daaronder in die kleim sien, maar net baie komiekliker. In ’n kits het
Jan Pieterse die handsambok uit Freek se hand geruk en looi hy
Freek net so lustig as hy kon. Dit het Willemse nie verwag nie, en
soos ’n kat probeer hy by die kleim uitklouter sonder om hom in die
minste te versit. Jy weet die gruis hierlangs sit baie diep, nè. Elke
keer nes Freek amper bo is, gryp Jan hom aan die voet met die
linkerhand, en terwyl hy hom aftrek na onder, steek hy hom los met
die regterhand. Die kaffers skree dit uit van louter vreugde, en die
toeskouers, wat nou al aansienlik in getal aangegroei het, hou hulle
sye vas soos hulle lag. Dit was rêrig te komiek!
„Freek het die dag na die pak spoorloos verdwyn, en niemand
weet wat van hom geword het nie. En dit was ook maar die beste
wat hy kon gedoen het, want sy dae op Kreepoort was getel.
Buitendien glo ek dat die poliesie ook vir hom soek, want hulle vertel
dat hy ’n hele reeks misdade op sy kerfstok het. Maar neef, verveel
ek jou nie?”
„Nee, glad nie, Oom. Inteendeel, daar is nog iets wat ek darem
graag van Oom wil geweet het. Ek kon nie help om op te merk dat
Oom se taal nou heelwat.....”
„Sê maar gerus fatsoenliker,” val die oubaas my in die rede.
„Ja, Oom, fatsoenliker en beskaafder is as twee maande gelede.
Het Oom dan al so gou weer Oom se oordeel oor die Voorsienigheid
gewysig, en moet ek dit toeskrywe aan die meer gegoede
omstandighede waarin Oom nou verkeer?”
„Neef, ek het gehoop dat jy my hierdie verklaring sou spaar, want
ek praat liewers nie oor hierdie saak nie. Kyk, laat ek dan somar van
die staanspoor af sê dat ek my skaam dat ek my daardie dag so
vergeet het in jou teenwoordigheid. Maar neef, ek was in elk geval
eerlik en het toe gepraat soos ek in daardie dae gevoel het. Man, toe
die teenspoed my tref en ek in daardie ellende verkeer, het ek vir die
eerste keer besef hoe ’n skynheilige lewe ek van te vore gelei het. Al
my vroomheid was niks anders as selfbedrog gewees nie; en ek
bloos om dit te getuig, maar my ouderlingskap en huisgodsdiens en
gebede was alles skyn. Toe daardie mantel van geveinsdheid in die
diepte van my ellende van my afval, staan Piet Legransie in al sy
naaktheid daar, en toe sou ek eers besef hoe werklik bedorwe ek
was. Dit was net in daardie tyd wat jy my op die delwerye raak-
geloop het, en jy sal miskien nou beter my taal van toe kan verklaar.
Maar ek dwaal af. Kyk, ek wil nie ons kerk blameer nie, maar dit lyk
tog vir my of dit alte gemaklik is om lid te word of as ouderling en
diaken te dien. Ek glo ons Dominee noem die lede van my soort:
mooiweer-kristene, en hy is reg ook. Maar ek wonder tog of hy sou
weet hoeveel van my soort daar nog in sy kerk is?...
„Daardie aand na Freek Willemse weg is en ek as deur ’n wonder
uit my haglike toestand gered was, het tant Lenie met my gepraat
soos sy nog nooit van te vore gedoen het nie. Ek mag nie vertel wat
daar alles plaasgevind het nie, maar ek het my opnuut leer ken soos
ek is en nie soos ek graag in die oog van die wêreld wil lyk nie. En jy
weet, neef, dit beteken vir ’n mens al ontsaglik baie. Ek sien jy word
haastig. Met jou verlof sal ons hierdie saak nooit weer aanroer nie.”
By myself dink ek hoe goed dit sou wees as meer mense,
waaronder die skrywer, hierdie ware selfkennis besit.
„En gaan Oom nou vir altyd op die delwerye bly?”
„O nee, neef! Sodra ek ’n koper kan kry vir hierdie ongewenste
beslommering wat ek die trotse eienaar van is—met bytende
sarkasme uitgespreek—dan skud ek vir ewig die stof van die
delwerye van my voete af. Welgevonde is weer in die mark; ek hoor
die Bank wat dit destyds vir skuld moes inneem, wil graag die plaas
van die hand sit. Wie weet, moontlik heet ek jou nog aankomende
jaar welkom in die ou huis.”
INTELLIGENSIE-TOETSE.
I.
Die Afrikaners aap baie graag na. En meesal vergeet hulle om
eers te gaan sit en die koste te bereken. ’n Paar studente gaan
Duitsland-toe, kom as hooggeleerde doktore terug, vertel ons dat
ons hele opvoedkundige stelsel verkeerd is, en ons sê onmiddellik ja
en amen daarop. „In Duitsland maak hulle so en so en so, en ons
behoort dit hier ook te doen!” roep een van die intellektuele reuse, en
dadelik word deur die lengte en die breedte van die land deur middel
van die pers uitgebasuin dat al ons skole volgens Duitse model moet
ingerig word. Wie nie saamstem nie, word vir bekrompe en
ongeleerd uitgeskel. So was dit vanselewe toe ons ’n Skotse
onderwysstelsel ingevoer het, en so gaan dit vandag nog. In plaas
dat ons gaan sit en ’n suiwer Suid-Afrikaanse stelsel ontwerp wat
rekening hou met Suid-Afrikaanse toestande, neul ons aljimmers
met ingevoerde artiekels. In stede van Suid-Afrikaanse skoene te
dra, dwing ons ons voete om te groei volgens die formaat van
ingevoerde stewels. As ons streng eerlik met onsself wil wees, dan
sal ons moet erken dat ons patriotisme waarop ons kamtig so trots
is, dikwels selfbedrog is. Ons strewe na die vreemde en uitheemse
en jaag dit na asof ons hele saligheid daarvan afhang.
En so het ons eindelik tot die ontdekking gekom dat ’n mens die
kind se intellek kan meet! Dis nie juis ’n nuwe teorie nie, want iets
wat bestaan kan ’n mens meet, hoewel so ’n metery dikwels tot
absurde gevolgtrekkings lei. Die kopbeen van ’n idiotiese ou
Boesman word in Taungs per ongeluk opgegrawe, en nadat
sorgvuldige afmetings van die lengte, hoogte en breedte gemaak is,
beweer die een groot geleerde na die ander dat eindelik die skedel
van ons ou stamvaderlike aap ontdek is! O tempora! O mores!
So wou ek maar net gesê het dat dit miskien wel moontlik sal blyk
om die menslike verstand te meet, maar dan moet rekening gehou
word met baie meer omstandighede as wat nou gebeur. Dis mos tog
dwaasheid om te reken dat ’n stel intelligensie-toetse wat opgetrek is
vir ’n Johannesburgse seun, toepaslik sal wees om die verstand te
meet van ’n seun wat sy hele lewe op die delwerye geslyt het.
Onmoontlik sal dit seker nie blyk om intelligensie-toetse vir die
delwerskind op te stel nie, maar dan moet in gedagte gehou word al
die omstandighede wat op sy ontwikkeling ingewerk het: sy huislike
lewe, sy vermake, sy skool.
Maar nou kom een en ander van die jonger deskundiges vars uit
een van Amerika se uniwersiteite met ’n volledige stel intelligensie-
toetse volgens Terman, en kom pas dit somar onvervals toe op Suid-
Afrikaanse kinders, om uit te vind of die bloedjies hoër of laer staan
as hulle Amerikaanse nefies en niggies! ’n Ander bring weer die
Binet-toetse in sy hand-sakkie saam en verklaar met fronsende
voorhoof en treurige hoofskudding dat ons seuns en dogters agter is
vir hulle Europese boeties en sussies. ’n Derde gee Cyril Burt se
intelligensie-toetse netso onvervals en maak dan sy gevolgtrekkings!
As dit nie was dat die leser my miskien met Ananias sou
klassifiseer nie, dan het ek hier opgeteken ’n stel intelligensie-toetse
wat aan sekere skole in Transvaal gestuur is, met die versoek aan
die onderwyser om dit in sy klas af te neem. Die resultate moes
opgestuur word om te sien hoeveel normale kinders ons in hierdie
deel van die provinsie besit. Ek verstaan dat die uitslae uiters
teleurstellend was. En g’n wonder nie, want die meeste vrae was
absurditeite. Een toets moet tog aan die vergetelheid ontruk word,
en dis die volgende: „Wat sou jy doen as jy nog ’n hele ent van die
skool af is en die klok hoor lui?”
Nou glo ek dat dat die kind moes antwoord dat hy sou hardloop
dat die stof so staan om darem nog te trag om betyds te kom, maar
die delwerseun dink glad anders oor die saak, en hier volg enige van
die antwoorde:
(1) Ek sou ’n paar skrifte agter by my broek insteek.

(2) Ek sou omdraai en my pa gaan help.
(3) Ek sou sê my ma het my uitgestuur en dat ek moes wag.
(4) Ek sou sweer dat ek ons donkies moes gaan keer.
(5) Ons skool het nie ’n klok nie; Meester blaas op ’n fluitjie.
(6) Ons sou nie die klok hoor nie; ons donkiekar raas te baie.
Geeneen van die voorgaande antwoorde het enige punte behaal

nie! Die opsteller was verbaas oor die onbegaafdheid van Kreepoort
se delwerskinders!
II.
„Hoogsbenoke,
14 Junie 1925.
Mnr.............,
Skoolinspekteur,
Smartendal.
Die outoriteite het my verlof gegee om die intelligensie van
sekere delwerskinders in u kring te kom meet, en my gevra
om sake verder met u te reël. Sal u tog so goed wees om my
per ommegaande te laat weet watter dae vir u gerieflik sal
wees, en of u my sal vergesel?
(Get.) D. E. M. Fohl, Ph. D.,
ens., ens., ens.”
Die voorgaande brief het ek beleef beantwoord en die geleerde

heer laat weet dat hy baie welkom sou wees op Smartendal op die
28ste Junie en volgende dae. Ek sou met hom saamgaan om
meteen ook te kan profiteer van sy ondervinding en kennis op die
gebied van die intelleksbepaling.
Die 28ste Junie het eindelik aangebreek, en om neënuur stap dr.
Fohl by my kantoordeur in. ’n Mens moes hom van naby sien om sy
persoon behoorlik te kan appresieer! Sy hele voorkome het jou
onwillekeurig aan ’n ontvlugte kranksinnige herinner. Sy oë staan
verwild in sy kop; sy hare—en die vent het ’n vreeslike bossiekop
gehad, netsoos die meeste mal mense het—is ongekam. Daarby dra
hy ’n groot skilpadbril, wat nie juis sy uiterlik verbeter het nie. Hy stap
so vinnig op my af dat ek begin bang word het dat hy dwars oor my
sou struikel.
„Môre!” sê hy, „is jy die skoolinspekteur?” met die nadruk op die jy.
„Goeiemôre,” antwoord ek, „en wie is u?” met die nadruk op die u.
„Wat!” roep hy, „meen jy te sê jy ken nie vir my nie?”
„Nee,” antwoord ek ewe bedees, want miskien had ek te doen met
’n seur of ’n graaf of so iets, „ek ken u nie.”
„Ek is dr. Fohl. Het jy nog nooit van my gehoor nie?”
„Dit spyt my om u teleur te stel; glad nie. Ek het nog net eenmaal
van u gehoor en dit was toe ek u brief ontvang het.”
„Dis snaaks, want op die Rand is ek welbekend; ek wou amper sê
beroemd. My portret was in byna al die dagblaaie.”
„Bedoel u onder die advertensies van De Wit se pille of Moeder
Seigel’s stroop?” vra ek ewe onskuldig.
Dit was die moeite werd om die kêrel se gesig te sien. Ek dag hy
sou ’n oorval kry.
„Probeer jy om snaaks te wees, of is dit maar net wat ’n mens te
wagte moet wees van julle buite-inspekteurs?” voeg hy my bits toe.
Sonder om op sy woorde ag te slaan, vat ek my hoed en my jas,
stap na die moter toe, maak die deurtjie oop vir hom en klim self in.
„Ons sal maar met die grootste skool begin,” sê ek, „en dan sal u
self kan oordeel of dit die moeite werd sal wees om met die toetse
voort te gaan.”
Ons het ’n rit van ’n goeie twintig myl voor gehad, en ’n hele ruk
het hy stil gesit sonder om sy mond oop te maak, en ek het hom nie
gestoor nie. Maar eindelik het die stilswye hom begin te verveel.
„Hou jy nog jou inspeksie op die ouderwetse manier?” vra hy.
„Ek weet nie reg wat u bedoel nie,” sê ek.
„Stel jy jou vrae om die kinders se kennis te toets, of probeer jy om
daardeur hulle intelligensie te bepaal?” gaan hy voort.
„Albei,” was my antwoord, „want dis nog al taamlik moeilik om
altyd juis die lyn te trek tussen kennis en intelligensie.”
„Nonsens,” sê hy met soveel nadruk dat ek byna in ’n sloot ry met
die moter. „Nonsens! Dis gemaklik, en as jy dit nog nie kan doen nie,
dan behoort jy nie inspekteur van onderwys te wees nie.”
Ek was egter nie uit die veld geslaan nie.
„Neem nou die geval van my eie seuntjie van vyf jaar,” gaan ek
voort, „as jy vir hom moes vra hoekom ’n voëltjie, hoewel hy
swaarder weeg as lug, nie grond-toe val as hy vlie nie, dan sal hy jou
dadelik die antwoord kan gee. Hoekom? Omdat sy boetie wat
veertien jaar oud is, baie belangstel in vliegtuie en hy van hom
geleer het wat dinamiese krag beteken. Die toepassing op die vlie
van die voëltjie doen hy self. Sou jy in hierdie geval die vraag beskou
as ’n toets vir sy intelligensie, of van sy kennis? Jy sal my seker wil
gewonne gee as ek sê dat dit moeilik is om hier ’n definitiewe lyn te
trek tussen sy intelligensie en sy kennis. Verder is dit duidelik dat die
meeste kinders van sy leeftyd die vraag nie sou kan beantwoord nie,
tensy hulle ook boeties het om hulle op dié punt in te lig.”
Maar dr. Fohl het my met minagtende stilswye bejeën en iets
binnensmonds gemompel wat baie soos sy naam met die voorletters
geklink het.
Die twintig myl was tog eindelik op ’n end, en ons hou voor die
skool stil. Nog nooit het my die pad so lank gelyk nie.
Die nuus van die hooggeleerde dokter wat ’n kind se verstand kan
meet, het ons vooruit-gesnel; en toe ons by die skool stilhou, was
daar ’n hele klomp delwers met vrouens en kinders, en die
skoolkommissie was ook voltallig. Almal het gekom om die
wonderdokter te sien.
By die afklim storm almal op ons toe.
„Sal die dokter tog nie vir my vrou iets gee nie; sy ly so aan die
asma?” vra een hier agter my, en dit het my ’n geruime tyd geneem
om die goeie mense dit aan die verstand te bring dat ons geleerde
vriend nie ’n medisynmeester is nie, maar wel ’n verstandsmeter.
„’n Landmeter ken ons,” sê een van die ouers, „maar ’n
verstandsmeter het ons nog nooit van gehoor nie. En hoe gaan hy
miskien ’n kind se verstand meet? Dis mos ’n ongehoorde iets.”
„Kyk, Oom,” sê ek aan die voorsitter van die skoolkommissie, „dit
sal beste wees dat die skoolkommissie die toetse bywoon, dan kan
die lede vir hulleself oordeel. Maar versoek tog asseblief die ander
vriende om te vertrek. Hulle sal môre kan verneem hoe dit met die
geestes-gawes van hulle kinders gesteld is.”
Hierdie suggestie het byval gevind en die ouers het vertrek.
III.
Aan die gesigte van die skoolkommissie kon ek sien dat hul nou
iets wonderliks verwag. Wat vir toormiddels gaan die kêrel gebruik?
„Seker so ’n dingetjie soos die dokters gebruik om te hoor of ’n mens
hartkloppens het,” fluister een.
„Nee wat,” waag ’n ander, „hulle sê hy kyk somar binne in ’n kind
se kop met daardie groot bril van hom.”
Soortgelyke en nog heelwat minder vleiende opmerkings van die
kant van die skoolkommissie-lede het ek opgevang.
Nou neem die toetsery ’n aanvang. Elke leerling kry ’n papiertjie
waarop tien vrae gedruk is, en hierdie tien vrae moes in seker
bepaalde tyd beantwoord word. Volgens die antwoorde word dan die
kind se intelligensie bepaal.
Hier volg enige van die toetse vir kinders van elf jaar:
(1) Jan val van sy fiets af en is bewusteloos. Hy stap na die dokter
vir hulp.
Wat is verkeerd met hierdie voorval?
(2) Eendag het die poliesie die lyk van ’n arme kind by die spruit
gekry. Die liggaam was in 18 stukke opgesny. Die hoofkonstabel
reken dat die kind selfmoord gepleeg het.
Is dit moontlik?
(3) Ek het drie broers: Jan, Piet en ek.
Sou jy dit netso gesê het?
(4) Gister het daar ’n treinongeluk gebeur en vyftig mense het
verongeluk. Die koerante sê dis gelukkig nie so danig ernstig nie.
Is die koerante reg?
(5) As iemand jou opienie vra oor ’n seun of dogter wat jy nie goed
ken nie, wat sou jy antwoord?
(6) Veronderstel dat jy iets moet onderneem wat baie belangrik is,
wat sou jy heel eerste doen?
(7) Waarom moet ’n mens iemand oordeel by wat hy doen en nie
by wat hy sê hy sal doen nie?
(8) In julle skool speel een-derde van die kinders voetbal en een-
derde speel krieket. Is daar nou kinders wat nòg die een nòg die
ander speel? Is daar kinders wat albei speel?
(9) Aalwyn en rubber groei in warm landstreke. Gras en
heiblommetjies groei in kouer landstreke. Heiblomme en rubber wil
klam grond hê; gras en aalwyn wil nie alte baie nattigheid hê nie. By
die Amasonerivier is dit baie warm en baie nat. Watter van die
voormelde plante sou daar groei?
(10) C lê wes van B; B lê wes van A. Lê A nou noord, suid, oos of
wes van C?
Of die voorgaande toetse, wat, tussen hakies gesê, almal dié van
Burt is, afdoende is om die intellek van ’n kind van elf jaar te bepaal,
laat ek aan die gesonde verstand van die leser oor. Ek wil in die
meriete van die saak nie juis ingaan nie. Persoonlik egter is ek die
mening toegedaan dat sulke vrae op hulself nie baie opvoedkundige
waarde besit nie, en glad nie daarop berekend is om uit te vind wie
die slimste kind in die klas is nie, nog minder help om juis die
elfjarige leerling se verstand te bepaal nie. Ek het dan ook al gesien
dat ’n hele paar seuns van nege jaar die elfjarige toetse baie beter
gedoen het as dié wat vir kinders van hulle eie leeftyd bedoel was.
Die uitdrukking op die voorsitter se gesig toe hy die verskillende
kaartjies in die hand neem en deurkyk, was die moeite werd om te
sien. Ek kon my moeilik bedwing. Maar toe hy hoor dat sy Jannie
skaars drie uit die tien toetse reg beantwoord het volgens dr. Fohl se
vereistes, was die gort gaar.
„Mag ek sien wat Jannie oor jou verspotte vrae te sê het?” vra hy
verstoord aan die geleerde dokter.
„Seker,” was die antwoord, „dan sal u miskien meteen ’n besef kry
van u eie kapasiteit.”
„Wat meen die vent?” vra die voorsitter, en ek kon sien dat sy oë
blits.
Hier tree ek tussenbei.
„Wag laat ons sien hoe Jannie die vrae beantwoord het,” val ek
hulle in die rede. „Ek sal een vir een vraag en antwoord aflees, en
dan kan die dokter sê of hy dit goed- of afkeur.”
Met hierdie suggestie was almal tevrede, en toe begin ek af te
lees:
Vraag: (1) Jan val van sy fiets af en is bewusteloos. Hy stap na die
dokter vir hulp. Wat is hiermee verkeerd?
Antwoord van Jannie: Die een wat dit vertel het, lieg dat hy so
bars.
Vraag: (2) Eendag het die poliesie die lyk van ’n arme kind by die
spruit gekry. Die liggaam was in 18 stukke opgesny. Die
hoofkonstabel reken dat die kind selfmoord gepleeg het. Is dit
moontlik?
Antwoord van Jannie: ’n Poliesman wat so onnosel is, behoort uit
die diens ontslaan te word. „Hoor! Hoor!” uit die mond van die
kommissielede.
Vraag: (3) Ek het drie broers: Jan, Piet en ek. Sou jy dit netso
gesê het?
Antwoord van Jannie: Natuurlik nie. Wie tel homself dan as ’n
broer?
Vraag: (4) Gister het daar ’n treinongeluk gebeur en vyftig mense
het verongeluk. Die koerante sê dis gelukkig nie so danig erg nie. Is
die koerante reg?
Antwoord van Jannie: Dit hang alles daarvan af wie in die trein
was. As dit kaffers of koelies of onderwysers was, dan is die
koerante reg, anders is hulle verkeerd.
Vraag: (5) As iemand jou opienie vra oor ’n seun of dogter wat jy
nie goed ken nie, wat sou jy antwoord?
Antwoord van Jannie: Ek is nie so slim soos dr. Fohl nie, wat ’n
hele boel kinders kom beoordeel wat hy vandag vir die eerste keer
sien.
Vraag: (6) Veronderstel dat jy iets moet onderneem wat baie
belangrik is, wat sou jy heel eerste doen?
Antwoord van Jannie: Ek sou my pa eers raadpleeg. „Hoor! hoor!”
van die voorsitter, en in sy hele houding is vaderlike trots te lees.
Vraag: (7) Waarom moet ’n mens iemand oordeel by wat hy doen
en nie by wat hy sê hy sal doen nie?
Antwoord van Jannie: Omdat jy anders maklik gekul sal raak.
Vraag: (8) In julle skool speel een-derde van die kinders voetbal
en een-derde speel krieket. Is daar nou kinders wat nòg die een nòg
die ander speel? Is daar kinders wat albei speel?
Antwoord van Jannie: Ek weet nie. Ons speel net voetbal en
albaster, en die meisies spring toutjie of speel hasie.
Vraag: (9) Aalwyn en rubber groei in warm landstreke. Gras en
heiblommetjies groei in koue landstreke. Heiblomme en rubber wil
klam grond hê; gras en aalwyn wil nie alte baie nattigheid hê nie. By
die Amasonerivier is dit baie warm en baie nat. Watter van die
voormelde plante sou daar groei?
Antwoord van Jannie: Rubber, maar daar sal wel gras en onkruid
ook groei.
Vraag: (10) C lê wes van B; B lê wes van A. Lê A nou noord, suid,
wes of oos van C?
Antwoord van Jannie: Oos.
„Wat sê u, Dokter, het die seun net drie antwoorde reg?” vra
Jannie se trotse vader.
„Ja,” brom dr. Fohl, „en sy intellek is dié van ’n sesjarige seun. Hy
aard waarskynlik na sy vader.”
Hier moes ek opnuut die vrede herstel.
„Sal ons nie liewers nou maar ry nie, Dokter?” vra ek. „Dit word
laat en u kan vanaand die resultate op u gemak uitwerk, en dan
môre vir my laat weet hoe dit met die delwerskinders se
verstandsvermoë gesteld is.”
„Dis nie eers nodig om dit uit te werk nie,” antwoord dr. Fohl. „Daar
is byna g’n enkel kind in hierdie skool wat normaal is nie. Feitlik
almal is onder normaal.”
„Maar as dit werklik die geval is, dan is u toetse onbevredigend.
Ek laat my nog nooit vertel dat onder honderd en tien kinders daar
skaars ’n dosyn volgens u berekening normaal is nie! U moet vir die
delweryskole ’n stel toetse optrek wat rekening hou met hierdie soort
kind se omgewing, ontwikkeling, ondervinding en huislike
omstandighede. Die resultate bewys dat u intelligensie-toetse nie
doelmatig is nie!”
Dog die dokter wou my kant van die saak maar nie insien nie.
Ons was dan ook al so goed as in die moter, toe die voorsitter, wat
vir die laaste paar minute in druk gesprek was met ’n paar lede van
die skoolkommissie, vorentoe tree.
„Mag ek die dokter vra of hy gewillig is om homself te onderwerp
aan seker toetse wat ons hom sal stel? Ons wil graag sien of sy
groot intellek meetbaar is. Dis nie aldag wat ons sulke geleerde
manne in ons midde kry nie.”
As ek in die dokter se plek was, dan sou ek hartlik vir die
eksamentjie bedank het, maar ek het verwag dat hy hom die toetse
sou laat welgeval. Was die kêrel ’n bietjie minder verwaand gewees
en het hy die delwer beter geken, dan sou hy die versoek geweier
het, maar nou loop hy in die val netsoos beer by jakkals.
„Seker, alte seker, oubaas,” sê hy, „maar maak net gou, want ons
is haastig.”
„Ek sal nie lank draai nie, Dokter. En as jy die volgende vrae tot
ons bevrediging beantwoord, dan is jy werklik so slim soos jy dink
dat jy is.”
Vraag (1): Hoe moet gravel lyk om ’n goeie was te gee?
Vraag (2): Hoe sal jy uitvind of jou masien diamonds weggooi?
Vraag (3): Hoe moet die porrel lyk?
Vraag (4): Wat is meer werd: ’n bruin diamond of ’n swarte?
Vraag (5): Hulle beweer dat die diamonds hier spoeldiamonds is.
As dit so is, hoe kom hulle hier tussen die gravel op die bult?
Op versoek van die voorsitter het ek die vrae afgeskrywe en die
papier toe aan dr. Fohl oorhandig.
„Kyk,” gaan die voorsitter verder, „jy kry twee minute om ’n vraag
te beantwoord.”
„Maar is jy ernstig?” vra dr. Fohl half-verleë:
„Dood-ernstig,” herneem die voorsitter.
„Maar wat weet ek van gravel en porrel en wat dies meer sy af; ek
is mos nie ’n delwer nie,” vervolg dr. Fohl.
„Nou ja, maar sê dan reguit of jy die vrae kan beantwoord of nie!”
gaan die voorsitter voort.
„Ek kan nie,” beken dr. Fohl.
„Maar Jannie van my kan wel,” sê die voorsitter. „Volgens jou
uitspraak is sy intellek dié van ’n kind van ses. Nou ja, dr. Fohl,
volgens my oordeel en dié van my kommissie is jou verstand dié van
’n kind onder ses, en ek sou aan die hand gee dat jy eers ’n tydjie op
die delwerye kom deurbring voordat jy dit waag om weer toetse vir
ons kinders te kom stel.”
Na hierdie woorde draai hy sy rug op die dokter, gee my sy hand
en vertrek met die lede van sy skoolkommissie.
Op pad huis-toe wou ek weet of ons die ander-dag met die
intelligensie-toetse sou voortgaan, maar dr. Fohl het my ’n antwoord
skuldig gebly.
Dieselfde aand is hy met die tienuur-trein weg R.-toe.
„GETREP.”
Daar gaan baie oneerlikheid aan op die delwerye, en etlike
delwers vergaan van ellende omdat die diamante wat op hulle kleims
gekry word, in die besit kom van gewetelose persone wat maar alte
gereed is om op onwettige wyse hierdie kosbare steentjies van
kaffers te koop. En dis nie so danig maklik om die kaffer of die
onwettige koper te vang nie. Hulle is uiters geslepe en slimmer as
die houtjie aan die galg.
Om ’n halfdosyn of meer kaffers wat onder in ’n kleim werk, dop te
hou om te voorkom dat hulle stilletjies ’n diamant oppik, is nie
kinderspeletjies nie. Persoonlik wou ek nooit glo dat ’n kaffer my so
onder my oë sou fop nie, en het dan ook hierdie mening aan meer
as een delwer vry uitgespreek.
„Nou goed,” sê ’n ou delwer eendag aan my, „kom saam na my
kleim toe, en dan sal u self kan oordeel of ons delwers die kaffer se
gladheid om ’n diamant te steel oordrywe het.”
Ek het sy aanbod gewillig aanvaar, en net vir gou staan ons by sy
kleim waarin sowat sewe kaffers besig was om gruis los te kap.
„Swartbooi,” sê my vriend (wat onder die delwers bekend gestaan
het as Koos Blikkies) aan sy mandoor onder die skepsels, „hierdie
baas wil nie vir my glo as ek hom vertel dat julle kaffers ’n diamant
onder sy neus sal wegsteel sonder dat hy dit sal bemerk nie. Nou wil
ek net vir hom wys hoe maklik julle dit kan doen.”
„Goed, my baas,” antwoord Swartbooi. „Gooi maar daardie ses-
carat wat ons gister gekry het, hier in die kleim voor my neer. Laat
hierdie baas dan al die tyd vir my in die gate hou, en as die steentjie
wegraak, dan moet die baas hom maar betaal. Hy is mos so seker
van sy saak.”
„Ek is heeltemal tevrede,” sê ek, „maar as ek vir Swartbooi betrap
dat hy die diamant vat, dan kry hy ses houe met hierdie
handsambok.”
Swartbooi gee so ’n lang pruimspuug, en terwyl al sy van die twak
geelgekleurde tande wys, sê hy laggend: „Allright!”
My selfvertroue het my nou ’n bietjie begewe, want ’n kaffer
beklink nie somar gou so ’n kontrak nie, of hy moet absoluut seker
wees van sy saak. Maar die feit dat ek net die één skepsel, wat g’n
drie tree van my af gruis kap nie, moes dophou, het my soveel
vertroue in myself gegee dat ek my pyp stop en op my gemak gaan
sit en rook het op die kant van die kleim.
„Nou toe,” voeg ek Koos Blikkies toe, „plaas nou maar die diamant
net waar jy wil, solank as ek net die steentjie kan sien, en as
Swartbooi hom wegvat sonder dat ek hom betrap, dan eet ek nog
my hoed op die koop toe ook op.”
Koos Blikkies het die diamant onder in die kleim neergesit, omtrent
twee tree van my en sowat ’n tree van Swartbooi af, en toe vir my
gewaarsku om baie oplettend te wees. Hy sou my ’n halfuur tyd gee;
as die diamant dan nog daar was, of as ek die kaffer gevang het,
dan het ek gewen. Met ’n laaste vermaning aan my om die skepsel
dubbel goed dop te hou, het hy vertrek.
Binne ’n kwartier het die diamant spoorloos verdwyn. Ek kon
sweer dat ek vir g’n enkel oomblik my oë van die klippie af
weggeneem het nie, en tog ... dit was weg! Onder die stof kon dit nie
wees nie, want dit het onder op die harde bodem gelê en die volk het
aan die ander kant van die kleim gewerk, en dan? ek het die ding
nog so flussies daar gesien.
Ek vrywe my oë en kyk weer.
„Waar is die diamant, Swartbooi?” vra ek.
„Ek weet nie; die baas hy het hom mos opgepas,” antwoord die
skepsel, en om sy mond sweef daar ’n trek van diepe minagting vir
my oplettendheid.
„Maar wat het dan van die ding geword?” vra ek weer, en in my
verbeelding sien ek reeds hoe ek £150 vir Koos Blikkies moet betaal,
en geld was in daardie dae nie juis alte volop by my nie.

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Revisiting Searle on Deriving "Ought"

from "Is" 1st Edition Paolo Di Lucia

ISBN 978-3-030-54115-6 ISBN 978-3-030-54116-3 (eBook)

© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s) 2021

Cover credit: Ian Dagnall/Alamy Stock Photo

Paolo Di Lucia and Edoardo Fittipaldi

In Section 2 and the Conclusion of his chapter Searle undertakes

2 Why the 1964 Derivation Is Correct as It

metaphysical distinctions were reframed as linguistic distinctions: in our

As can be seen, as early as 1964, Searle had already taken significant

3 Toward an Objective Language-Based

obligations, rights, powers, etc.). Thus, we can make epistemically objec-

When I wrote th[e] [1964] article I thought, much as Wittgenstein, that

Thus, according to Searle, we are all embedded in language, and it is

nonsense or are merely linguistic entities, nor even that it is meaningless

Searle’s example is someone who recognizes the value of truth and

To rephrase an example by Hans Kelsen, a child may at once have an

action and these reasons include obligations, which, let it be reiterated,

6. The ethical purport of institutional facts was pointed out by Raphael

One can … be under inconsistent obligations”—just as he states in the

John Searle: From an Institutions-Based Metaethics to a

Note on Contributors xxv

List of Tables xxvii

1 How to Derive “Ought” from “Is” Revisited 3

2 An Interview with John R. Searle 17

3 Is and Ought: Where Does the Problem Lie? 33

4 Searlean “Is” and “Ought” Revisited 59

5 Some Remarks on Searle’s View on the Logic

6 On the Regulative Functions of Constitutive Rules 107

7 Existence as a Source of Normativity: An Alternative

8 How to Derive Is from Ought 139

9 Searle vs. Conte on Constitutive Rules 157

10 “Ought” Is Spoken in Many Ways 177

11 Constitutive Rules, Criteria of Validity, and Law 191

12 Can Constitutive Rules Bridge the Gap Between Is-

13 Searle and Conte on Deriving Ought from Is 239

14 Why Moral Norms Cannot Be Reduced to Facts:

15 On Searle’s Derivation and Its Relation

Index of Names 325

Index of Subjects 333

Pedro M. S. Alves Professor of Philosophy at the University of Lisbon,

Corrado Roversi Professor of Philosophy of Law at the University of

© The Author(s) 2021 3

heyday of what was called “Ordinary Language Philosophy.” The ques-

evaluative statement from a descriptive statement, or a set of descrip-

that it is impossible to derive an evaluative statement from any set of

supported by evidence, etc.? And those evaluations admit of completely

are observer-independent and those that are observer-relative. Observer-

domain. And that seems to me exactly right. We can make objectively

that issue. It is important to see that it derives from the direction of

Furthermore, the very generality of language requires that if you

P. Di Lucia (B) · E. Fittipaldi

© The Author(s) 2021 17

of the distinction between human civilization and other forms of social

ground of the formation of a desire to do the thing you are obligated to

3 Norms, Validity, Logic

(1) Ek sou ’n paar skrifte agter by my broek insteek.

Geeneen van die voorgaande antwoorde het enige punte behaal

Die voorgaande brief het ek beleef beantwoord en die geleerde

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