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Fish on Intentionality

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Yesterday's New York Times featured on odd intervention into the judicial nomination debate by Stanley Fish that's come under persuasive criticism from a whole variety of corners. One key contention, however, hasn't gotten the scrutiny I think it deserves:

Suppose you're looking at a rock formation and see in it what seems to be the word "help." You look more closely and decide that, no, what you are seeing is an effect of erosion, random marks that just happen to resemble an English word. The moment you decide that nature caused the effect, you will have lost all interest in interpreting the formation, because you no longer believe that it has been produced intentionally, and therefore you no longer believe that it's a word, a bearer of meaning.

As is often the case with philosophical thought experiments, I think that when you unpack this it doesn't show what Fish wants it to show. You lose interest in this scenario for a rather specific reason -- something that appears to be the word "help" would seem to be, well, a cry for help, an indication that someone, somewhere is in need of assistance. Once it becomes clear that the existence of the "help"-token is just a coincidence, the meaning of the inscription loses its significance. Instead, the only interesting question is how, exactly, erosion coincidentally formed those letters.

But Fish wants us to believe that the "help" doesn't count as a real word merely because it was the product of coincidence rather than design. I think a differently-structured thought experiment would show otherwise.

Suppose you had a computer program that produced randomly generated three-letter strings of characters. You hit "reload" and you get a new string. One time it comes up "xaf," next "zqy," then "ilp." But the form time, you get "cat." "Cat," of course," is an English word and you would recognize it as such. You wouldn't conclude that the computer meant to say anything by producing the "cat" string -- you know the program is random -- but that doesn't change the fact that "c" followed by "a" followed by "t" spells "cat" and "cat" is an English word denoting a specific kind of mammal.

I related case concerns typos. Say I was doing a hasty blog post about my trip to the store where I bought six toys. I write, "I went to the store and bought sex toys." What I meant to say was that I bought six toys. Nevertheless, I wrote "sex toys" which means something else. There are two kinds of meaning here -- the meaning I had in my head, and the meaning of the sentence. We certainly wouldn't conclude that the sentence as written was meaningless simply because it was the result of a mistake. Indeed, the whole idea that typos, malapropisms, and other mistakes are possible depends on the idea that written and spoken words have objective (or at least intersubjective), public meanings that are distinct from the intentions of the writer/speaker. If the world were the way Fish thinks it is, it would never make sense to say somebody "misspoke" because the meaning of what they, in fact, said would, by definition, be what they meant to say.


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"I related case concerns typos."


You're a funny guy, Matthew Yglesias.

"If the world were the way Fish thinks it is, it would never make sense to say somebody "misspoke" because the meaning of what they, in fact, said would, by definition, be what they meant to say."


While this is certainly true, it's kinda irrelevant in the context of this discussion.


In the context of legal documents, there is no "misspeaking".  What is written is all that matters.


If you want to leave your children your six toys, and accidently write in your will that you want to leave them your sex toys, they get your sex toys.  The actual words in the will are the portal for diving your intention, and if you get those words wrong, it's your problem.

In the context of legal documents, there is no "misspeaking".  What is written is all that matters.

If you want to leave your children your six toys, and accidently write in your will that you want to leave them your sex toys, they get your sex toys.  The actual words in the will are the portal for diving your intention, and if you get those words wrong, it's your problem.

That's not true at all.  There is a whole body of law devoted to what is termed the "parol evidence rule", which determines when you must interpret only the words of the document and when you can consider extrinsic evidence.  Accordingly, in many cases, if there is sufficient evidence that you, in fact, meant "six toys" (i.e., you told lots of people on many occasions that you wanted to leave "six" toys), the document could be interpretted to mean "six toys" even if the words are "sex toys".  (Unfortunately, since it has been more than a decade since law school, my knowledge of the parol evidence rule is disturbingly lacking right now...)

Actually, now that I'm thinking about it, the parol evidence rule is slightly different - it determines whether, if there is an agreement where I would give you toys A, B, C, D & E, you can present evidence that we ALSO agreed that I would give you toy F.

The situation where we had an agreement that I would give you six toys, but we wrote "sex toys", is covered under the law regarding mistakes.

OK, back to securities law with me!

I know precisely zero about philosophy, but doesn't "intentionality" mean something different from what's being discussed here?

"If the world were the way Fish thinks it is, it would never make sense to say somebody "misspoke" because the meaning of what they, in fact, said would, by definition, be what they meant to say."
But follow through on your thought experiment: If a person says something that appears out of character or nonsensical, why do we treat it as an example of his having misspoken?  Presumably because of later statements on that topic correcting the initial one.  You're back to public meanings.  Per Hilary Putnam, "'Meanings' just ain't in the head."

"That's not true at all.  There is a whole body of law devoted to what is termed the "parol evidence rule"


Isn't actually resorting to the law to win the argument kinda, sorta cheating?


I defer to someone who's actually been to law school.  I can only play a lawyer on TV.


-----


And on topics that really matter, the Shareef acquisition means the Nets might actually be in a position to challenge this year...


Abdur-Rahim don't like it.  Rockin' the Casbah.

Let's also acknowledge the possibility that some would see in a "natural" formation of the word "help" the hand of an Intelligent Author operating through the process of erosion.  This returns intentionality to the situation, although on a very different plane, one which places the author beyond rational approach. 

Fish's article is the kind of thing that gives bullshit a bad name.  In addition to Matt's good example of unintended meanings, authors can also have intentions that are NOT intended to become part of the readable meaning of the document.  Lies, propaganda, etc.  Laws are not immune to these kinds of disguised intent.

I think Matt should've stuck with 'intention'.  Intentionality concerns the relation between any contentful mental state (beliefs, desires, etc.) and the things that it refers to.  Which is involved here, but it's not the central thing he's talking about.  

Isn't actually resorting to the law to win the argument kinda, sorta cheating?

Not really, since I obviously hardly remember what the parol evidence rule is anyway.  (I hate when you forget things you used to know like the back of your hand... Hrmph.)

Anyway, I'm not counting my Shareef before I see him on the podium between Thorn and Kidd holding a #3 (#33?) Nets jersey.

Say I was doing a hasty blog post about my trip to the store where I bought six toys. I write, "I went to the store and bought sex toys." What I meant to say was that I bought six toys. Nevertheless, I wrote "sex toys" which means something else.


Remember that you could also say the following: "I meant that I bought six toys."  


The deeper point, in defending intentionalism here, is that while we might giggle about sex toys when reading your response, anybody who was seriously trying to engage in a communicative activity with you through your blog post (and who had been tipped off by context clues -- perhaps you gave 4 of them to Kriston and 2 to your dad) would think about it as "six toys".  When we're trying to engage in communicative activity, it's the author's intention that we engage with. This requires us to interact with the text, since the text is usually the best sign of the author's intention, but it's really the intention that we're going for.  

Gee, this discussion is academic in the extreme.  Isn't anyone interested in discussing what Fish is trying to say about the Constitution?

I don't know that much about Fish other than that he's one of the stars of Postmodernism in academia and an occasional contributor to the Times Op-Ed.  His analysis of Kerry's verbal style from before the election was right on the mark.  However, my bone to pick with this article is his intolerance for ambiguity, intentional or otherwise.  By his reading, the great literature of the world can be read only according to the authors' original intent.  Clearly, works that last in the culture take on meaning far beyond what what was intented at the time of writing.  Fish himself would be out of work if limits were placed on the interpretation of literature.

In the case of the Constitution, the question of intent becomes murkier still.  First, the document represents many compromises among a disparate group of founding fathers.  So who's intent are we seeking to gauge when interpreting the Constitution?  Must we learn who wrote each individual sentence?

Second, I believe much in the Constitution is intentionally left open to interpretation.  The drafters did not set out to produce a clear, unambiguous document.  Their goal was to build a nation out of conflicting opinions and interests and to create a document that could hold it together.  So far, it has survived the shifting beliefs and concerns of the population.  This could not have been achieved through rigidity.

Third, it seems to me that original intent is a sort of fetish.  Why would we constrain our evolving society to the idiosyncracies of individuals born nearly 300 years ago?  Don't get me wrong, they did a great job, but they did so by bequeathing us a framework with enough structural strength to withstand constant interpretation.

Al, I was beginning to think you got hit by a bus or something.

Al, I was beginning to think you got hit by a bus or something.

OMG, a bus? It's been so long I thought it was that he enrolled in the "Fitness Protection Program", LMAO!!

Neil the Ethical Werewolf:

 

So who's intent are we seeking to gauge when interpreting the Constitution?  Must we learn who wrote each individual sentence?

It doesn't matter who wrote it, any more than it matters who wrote my will, if I signed it. It matters what was the understood meaning by each signer. And as Werewolf pointed out, there must be at least as many interpretations as there were signers.

 

But Fish's point was that it IS relevant to ask about our nominee's take on different precedents. Is medical marijuana and right to die states' rights issues? Etc. Bush wants an up or down vote, no questions asked. But then I suspect, as with the Iraq war, Bush usually likes to make a decision before thinking about it. 

If I recall correctly, in Is There a Text in this Class (1980), Fish argued that an author’s intended meaning is not the sole meaning of a text; rather, meanings are ascribed to a text by its readers.  Interpretation is a creative act, not a passive reception of the author’s meaning.  This does not mean, however, that texts cannot have stable meanings.  Because groups of people share ways of reading texts, interpretations of a text are constrained by the norms shared by communities of interpreters.

This strikes me as a useful theory of interpretation to apply to constitutional law, because it allows a justice to take into account not only the framers’ original intentions, but also the ways in which the Constitution was understood by the voters who ratified it, as well as the last two centuries of judicial interpretation.  In this op-ed, Fish seems to revert to the old idea that a text means simply what its author intended.  Can anyone familiar with Fish’s work help me out here?  Has he moved away from his reader response theory?

Also, Matthew, could link to any of the criticisms of Fish to which you allude?  Thank you.

 

I agree with Fish that something can look like a word and yet not be a word.  After all, how closely do the rocks have to resemble letters?  What if the "p" is backwards?  What if it's spelt "hlep"?  That formation needs you to assign a particular meaning to it before it can become a symbol of anything.

Fish's main problem is that he's misinterpreting Scalia's intent.  I think Scalia is merely stating that if the framers had meant something else they would have said so.  That particular argument is open to other criticisms, but not Fish's.  I think what's more interesting is his critique of the "living constitution," which critique seems plainly to ignore the very specific text present in the ninth amendment.  

But here is where I think the whole textualist v livingist argument is going:  are the rights enumerated in the Constitution to be interpreted as laws, or are they to be interpreted as specific instances of higher principles?  It's funny how the folks who appeal most strongly to a spiritual foundation for this country are those least likely to make that connection between Constitutional rights and higher principles. 

Well, it's nice to know I've been missed!  Maybe I shuoldn't post this, but I find this blog less fun than the old yglesias.typepad.com (even though that halfway sorta survives).  I don't know why.  Is it just me?  Sigh.

Didn't William Pryor vote to uphold a ban on sex toys?  The burning question is what John Roberts thinks about the right to sex toys! 

I'm more familiar with Fish's literary criticism than his legal theory, but a better general statement of Fish's interpretative model is that while intentions precede texts, they can't be derived from them. He's certainly not a standard reader-response critic, but he's also certainly not a Wimsatt & Beardsley

That's to say, authors have intentions and those intentions produce texts, but the texts themselves are not a container of intentions. Instead, 'intention' is a function of interpretation, but deriving intention from the interpretative process is itself extra-textual, and thus open to argument and revision, since 'any conclusion you reach about the intention behind a text can always be challenged by someone else who marshals different evidence for an alternative intention.' That's because the evidence for intention found outside the text itself is found... in other texts. Interpretation is thus a contingent process, both textually and socially. It's about reaching consensus on where and when to stop interpreting.

Now, let us suppose that the community-of-readers which is interpreting the particular text of interest is composed solely of Federalist Society members.

It matters what was the understood meaning by each signer [of the Constitution].  epistemology

But since the people of the thirteen states gave up/transferred some part of their sovereignty to the Federal government, wouldn't we need to know how "they" understood the meaning of what they were doing -- or at least how their elected representatives in the several state legislatures understood it?

While Matt effectively shoots down Fish's premise, he doesn't mention what seems to me the most fundamental problem with original intent (as distinguished from the practical, logical, and historical ones): it's inherently and irretrievably undemocratic. In a democratic society, the role of a constitution which often exerts a counter-majoritarian check on democratic initiatives is safeguarded by the recognition that that constitution has a democratic legitimacy of its own. Looking ahead, we have democratic means to change the nature of that constitution, though through processes made more difficult by the requirements of that constitution itself. And looking back, the short-term restrictions on our democratic options reflect the long-term democratic choice made by our predecessors to accept that constitution and those constraints. In other words, we accept that the constitution stops us from democratically passing a law granting titles of nobility not only because with a supermajority we could democratically ammend that limitation but also because Americans (the white male ones, that is) democratically chose a constitution with that limitation in the first place.

And what did our forebears ratify? The words of the constitution. Not the original (make that contemporary) intent of its authors.
 
As Frederick Douglass argued 145 years ago, to hold the voters who ratified the constitution - and ourselves - to the "secret motives" of its authors, rather than to the text they ratified, is "the wildest of absurdities." Even if we could determine what exactly the framers had in mind, we would do well to remember that what the framers had in mind never came up for a vote. And that they had many different things in mind, out of which they compromised on a particular text, likely each hoping it would be understood in a somewhat differently shaded way.

If there's any original intent that should bear on our reading of the constitution, it's the original intent of the voters. Here too, though, it bears keeping in mind that a constitution is by nature a democratic compromise among people of differing beliefs to set bounds on future majoritarianism. So while there's no Rawlsian veil of ignorance in play, there's at least some haze. In ratifying a constitution, we provisionally inhibit our chances of legislating certain of our majority views in exchange for provisional protection against legislation contradicting certain of our minority views. A, B, and C, for example, may all see fit to paly it safe and ratify a constitution forbidding discrimination against a particular letter, each seeing it mainly as a protection for itself and not for others. To point out afterwards that protecting C may not have been the original intent of 2/3 of voters would miss the point. We should also remember, sadly, that many of the Americans who for several decades were systematically read out of the constitution were left out of the process of drafting and ratifying it in the first place.

"If the world were the way Fish thinks it is, it would never make sense to say somebody "misspoke" because the meaning of what they, in fact, said would, by definition, be what they meant to say."
 
How about this one:
The meaning of an speech-utterance is intentional iff the utterance is an instance of competent speech.

Is this true? Does this get us anywhere? 

I think Fish is barking up the wrong tree.   

So who's intent are we seeking to gauge when interpreting the Constitution? Must we learn who wrote each individual sentence?

I agree with FredM that this question goes to the heart of Fish's theory. The theory seems to work best when applied to an individual author, and works much less well with something, well, like a constitution, which is drafted by committee and ratified by a population of voters. This process seems to make interpretation a big part of the drafting process, thereby upsetting Fish's attempt to nearly separate these activities.

What's funny about Fish's op-ed is that he names Scalia as his target, then takes a big swipe at the liberal theory of an evolving constitution, and then, having made enemies with everyone in the room, refuses to disclose whether his very narrow definition of intention favors liberal or conservative outcomes. Indeed, Fish suggests that his approach is indeterminate.

It appears, therefore, that Professor Fish is not interested in resolving disputes. Rather, he merely wants the game to be played according to his rules.

Which raises the question: What was Fish's intent with all this? Is it unfair to dismiss this as self-promotion?

I posted some hastily written thoughts on Fish's Op-Ed here.

In general, I would agree that in formulating a persuasive interpretation some thought should be given to how the text in question was produced.  But Fish's position that interpretation is by definition about intent is not defensible.

Like I said earlier, the example of the rock conflates two points. Point one says "it makes no sense to interpret something that wasn't intentionally produced as language" and point two says "all interpretation is about intent." If Fish had used as an example a novel or a poem the fallacy of his argument would become more apparent. His rock example is just a clever way to paper over his superficial analysis.


With regards to his comments on interpreting the Constitution and original intent, I think Fish errs most by stating any judge who does not abide by the principle of "original intent" is "making the law." In fact, all judges in a common law system, regardless of their interpretive philosophy, "make the law." That's an intrinsic part of the common law system, as distinct from a civil law system.

Both Fish and Scalia are arguing for originalist interpretations of the Constitution, but whereas one seeks to figure out the author's intent (how this is to be done I haven't the foggiest -- séance sessions?) the other seeks to understand the meaning of words at the time of their formulation. Both positions are flawed, but between the two I'd take Scalia over Fish any day. 

If I recall correctly, in Is There a Text in this Class (1980), Fish argued that an author’s intended meaning is not the sole meaning of a text; rather, meanings are ascribed to a text by its readers.  Interpretation is a creative act, not a passive reception of the author’s meaning.  This does not mean, however, that texts cannot have stable meanings.  Because groups of people share ways of reading texts, interpretations of a text are constrained by the norms shared by communities of interpreters.

Yes, Fish actually does say both these things. One, that interpretation must always be about author's intent. Two, that how we decide what an author's intent is will depend on what reading community we pertain to. Now, that's not much of a methodology, is it? Postmodernism means never having to take a position.Having defined a dogmatic approach to the interpretation of texts he can then backtrack from having to follow through on this approach since any claim of "author intent" is as valid as the next one since all interpretations are relative to the positon of the interpreter.

All very clever, but sad to see it being applied to a debate on how constitutional law should be established.

The Dude,


What's with all the "2" ratings to various people on this friendly thread?


Ratings below "3" should be semi-rare, not half of your ratings.


I thought the dude abides.

http://plato.stanford.edu/entries/law-interpretivist/

"Interpretivist Theories of Law" at Stanford

http://plato.stanford.edu/entries/legal-reas-interpret/

"Interpretation and Coherence in Legal Reasoning"

"Fiss' view is criticised by Stanley Fish (1989), who contends that Fiss' ‘disciplining rules’ would themselves require interpretation in order for judges to know what they mean and require of them, and hence cannot supply constraints upon judicial interpretation. Fish's contention that all potential candidates which might constrain interpretation are themselves susceptible to being interpreted in a variety of ways results in his claiming that texts or originals cannot constrain judges at all in the way in which is commonly supposed, as texts do not have meanings in advance of particular interpretations of them. This seemingly radical indeterminacy is deceptive, however, for although Fish removes the constraints on interpretation provided by legal texts or supplementary norms of the judicial profession, he replaces them with the conditioning and training processes of ‘interpretive communities’, which ensure that, ‘...readers are already and always thinking within the norms, standards, criteria of evidence, purposes and goals of a shared enterprise’, such that, ‘the meanings available to them have been preselected by their professional training.’ (Fish 1989, 133)."

The paragraph appears relevant, but contradictory?

To be sure, this is not Fish's most compelling work (or example), but I think your resistance Matt is on the wrong track. The six v. sex conclusions you draw have plenty of problems too, but let's take the computer-generated 3-letter string for starters.

It's true that we recognize "C-A-T" as a word in English, and words have definitions (sometimes more than one) and there's no sense in pretending they don't. Fish is certainly not denying that words have definitions. But what he is talking about is "interpreting" -- which is decidedly different from "defining." Dictionaries offer definitions, not interpretations.

Seeing a randomly generated CAT and recognizing it as a word is not an act of interpretation, even if we all agreed on the definition (not that we necessarily would here. A brain surgeon sees "CAT" and thinks of a scan, not a mammal.) Fish's point is that interpreting, a particular act of reading, involves context, evidence and argument in search of intention (a rather more broad and free understanding of both "intention" and "author" than we're seeing in the thread of objections here). There are other ways to read--and other reasons to read--that may provide stimulation, meaning, that may even change your life or save the world, but those are not interpretations of the text, just like a randomly-generated CAT or a "HELP" created by a waterfall are not intentional texts. We are thrilled of course to have such experiments as those 2 swayed by the beauty of coincidence. But the US Constitution should not be treated as that kind of experiment. Fish's point is that it is the textualist and the false language of "strict construction" who doesn't see the difference between such acts of reading, nor between "interpreting" and "defining."

As for "six' versus "sex" that example does not in any way undermine Fish's theories of interpretation.

It is true that if you wrote "I went to the store and bought sex toys." and you wrote nothing else, we would still be able to render an interpretation and the statement would have meaning for us. But that's not because the words themselves outside of context contain that meaning. It's because there is a perfectly reasonable context in which to read such a thing and have it make sense and seem like your intention. We won't have interpreted your message correctly because it will have a mistake in it that obscures your intention rather than reveal it. (And you would have nobody but yourself to blame for that.)  But, there's a good chance that if the sentence before it read something like "To prepare for my niece's 3rd birthday, I remembered how disappointed I use to be to receive only 1 toy." Then "I went to the store and bought sex toys" may in fact still be interpreted correctly as images of dildos and vibrators wouldn't make much sense, but 6 as opposed to 1 would. We may have to give it a longer look--and a nod to Freud no doubt--but the mistake may be uncovered.

The point is that it is still the context that allows the meaning. There is no, as you say, "meaning of the sentence" outside of context. Even if we had nothing else to go on that is helpful to us as intepreters, we would simply and naturally assume a context that allows the statement to make sense. But a context will be applied nonetheless. The fact that we would all arrive at the same understanding--using the same context--isn't a magical inherent feature of the sentence, it's owing to the fact that there are no competing theories (that I can think of) that would cloud the issue in a simple sentence like that one. The truth emerges out of the consensus, not the shapes of the letters or the definitions of the words. It is a matter of context, evidence and argument.

exactly. and when we're going for something other than the author's intention, we may be engaging in something interesting and even worthwhile, but it's not interpretation.

With respect, I think you're missing the point. He's not offering a methodology for interpretation, he's offering a definition, one that rules out some of the cliches and metaphors some typically use to try and gain rhetorical advantage:"strict construction" and claiming my interpretation takes into account the author(s)'s intent and yours does not (an impossibility, since interpretations always are attempts to understand the author(s)'s intent.

And yes, that means that there can and will be competing visions of that intent, and for that matter competing visions of who should count as an author. And we will settle them the way we always settle disagreements of interpretation--not by an "everyone's equally valid" approach Fish would never ever say that--but through argument and evidence and earnest persuasion.

I think we're making a mistake to limit the idea of "author" or "intent" in Fish's piece. He never anywhere suggests that determining who should be considered an author is a simple or settled matter. Like the issue of intent, it is open to argument. His point is only that the goal of "interpretation" is "intention," and that any other understanding is nonsensical. He doesn't presume the answers to any part of the process beyond that.

Obviously, after seeing "help" and realizing it was a coincidentally-shaped erosion, you'd not bother trying to "help" the rock, as no help is being requested.  But if someone asked what you saw on the rock, you'd most likely say "The word 'help'."  Moreover, whenever you'd think about that rock, you'd probably think of it as "The rock with the word 'help' on it."

Although the process of communication requires an attempt to interpret intended meanings, the process of living in a world full of diverse stimuli requires classifying things in ways that have meaning in our own minds.

Each of us, from the Chief Justice to the village idiot, brings a unique personal perception of how government works and the laws that define it.   Originalism attempts to ignore this perception and textualism attempts to obscure it, but while the intentions of the legislators and the consensus understanding of the words may inform our perceptions, so do our desires for a particular outcome.

Yes, but I disagree with the idea that interpretation is always about author’s intent. Historians, for example, often use historical sources to intuit meanings other than those intended by the authors.

And I realize he’s only offering a definition. But even if you accept his position that interpretation can only be about intent, how exactly does one determine the author’s intent? Would that not involve research that transcends the text? 

 

 

Al,<p>It is good to have you around. You are right, IMO, that it is less fun, but I am hopeful that is a temporary thing until they get the kinks worked out here, implement a few other things and then settle in a little bit. The commenting module here, while somewhat interesting is not 'right' yet -- it is a combination of poor layout (the Josh Marshall narrow center column special), weird nesting, and bizarrely off-the-beaten-path formatting scheme. It should get better, but the key part is the community, so if you can stick around until it does, that would help more than anything.

Exactly, and that is why Scalia says he is a textualist instead of someone who subscribes to an 'original intent' theory. 

While I have frequently expressed my  awe at    analytic philosophers's ability to confuse issues and delay their resolution indefinitely, when I do this I  in no way mean to denigrate or minimize the powers of literary critics and post-modernists in this regard.


The analytic Brian Leiter recently made a post so obnoxious  that I was forced to defend the odious David Brooks for the first (and hopefully the last)time in my life.


Leiter vs. Brooks


 

"philosophers'"

Matt must know a little something about Emerson Hall and Hilary Putnam. His Brains in a Vat is a seminal article in philosophy of mind--something to read and enjoy:

http://www.uwichill.edu.bb/bnccde/ph29a/putnam.html

Fish is a post-modernist, but you should know that the post-modernists themselves don't take him seriously. Post-modernism comes out of leftist thought, and critiques society as oppressive, as in Foucault.

 Fish's post-modernism, however, is just a way of attracting attention by making controversial statements. His main interest is fame and academic power. 

It takes a serial misspeller like Yglesias to come up with a paste post like this. ;)

I'm reminded of an old "Far Side" cartoon. We're in a cockpit, looking out the window down at a desert island, where someone has fairly sloppily spelled out a word in the sand with logs.

Pilot (on radio): "Wait, wait, cancel that.... I guess it says HELF."

Wonder what Fish would make of that one! Actually since he's an academic he's probably seen it several times a day on various professors' doors. 

 

 

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