Words are just labels, but in order to be able to converse at all, we have to hold at least most of them in one place while we play with the remainder. We should try to avoid emulating Humpty Dumpty. Someone who calls a tail a leg is either trying to add to the category originally described by “leg” (turning it into the category now identified with “extremity” or something like that), or is appropriating a word (“leg”) for a category that already has a word (“tail”). The first exercise can be useful in some contexts, but typically these contexts start with somebody saying “Let’s evaluate the content of the word “leg” and maybe revise it for consistency.” The second is juvenile code invention.
Someone who calls a tail a leg is either trying to add to the category originally described by “leg” (turning it into the category now identified with “extremity” or something like that), or is appropriating a word (“leg”) for a category that already has a word (“tail”). The first exercise can be useful in some contexts, but typically these contexts start with somebody saying “Let’s evaluate the content of the word “leg” and maybe revise it for consistency.” The second is juvenile code invention.
What about if evolution repurposed some genus’s tail to function as a leg? The question wouldn’t be so juvenile or academic then. And before you roll your eyes, I can imagine someone saying,
“How many limbs does a mammal have, if you count the nose as a limb? Four. Calling a nose a limb doesn’t make it one.”
And then realizing they forgot about elephants, whose trunks have muscles that allow it to grip things as if it had a hand.
That looks like category reevaluation, not code-making, to me. If you think an elephant’s trunk should be called a limb, and you think that elephants have five limbs, that’s category reevaluation; if you think that elephant trunks should be called limbs and elephants have one limb, that’s code.
Speakers Use Their Actual Language, so someone who uses ‘leg’ to mean leg or tail speaks truly when they say ‘dogs have five legs.’ But it remains the case that dogs have only four legs, and nobody can reasonably expect a ham sandwich to support hundreds of pounds of force. This is because the previous sentence uses English, not the counterfactual language we’ve been invited to imagine.
That was said by someone who didn’t realize that words are just labels.
Words are just labels, but in order to be able to converse at all, we have to hold at least most of them in one place while we play with the remainder. We should try to avoid emulating Humpty Dumpty. Someone who calls a tail a leg is either trying to add to the category originally described by “leg” (turning it into the category now identified with “extremity” or something like that), or is appropriating a word (“leg”) for a category that already has a word (“tail”). The first exercise can be useful in some contexts, but typically these contexts start with somebody saying “Let’s evaluate the content of the word “leg” and maybe revise it for consistency.” The second is juvenile code invention.
What about if evolution repurposed some genus’s tail to function as a leg? The question wouldn’t be so juvenile or academic then. And before you roll your eyes, I can imagine someone saying,
“How many limbs does a mammal have, if you count the nose as a limb? Four. Calling a nose a limb doesn’t make it one.”
And then realizing they forgot about elephants, whose trunks have muscles that allow it to grip things as if it had a hand.
That looks like category reevaluation, not code-making, to me. If you think an elephant’s trunk should be called a limb, and you think that elephants have five limbs, that’s category reevaluation; if you think that elephant trunks should be called limbs and elephants have one limb, that’s code.
Speakers Use Their Actual Language, so someone who uses ‘leg’ to mean leg or tail speaks truly when they say ‘dogs have five legs.’ But it remains the case that dogs have only four legs, and nobody can reasonably expect a ham sandwich to support hundreds of pounds of force. This is because the previous sentence uses English, not the counterfactual language we’ve been invited to imagine.