STUDIES IN LOGIC, GRAMMAR

AND RHETORIC 36 (49) 2014

DOI: 10.2478/slgr-2014-0001

John R. Searle
University of California, Berkeley

THE STRUCTURE AND FUNCTIONS

OF LANGUAGE 1

Abstract. This paper will discuss the nature of language. I find the present
state of the subject, the Philosophy of Language, and the present state of Lin-
guistics to be both, for different reasons, unsatisfactory. The problem with the
Philosophy of Language is that its practitioners tend to lose sight of the psy-
chological reality of language, i.e. of speaking and writing. Historically this is
because the Philosophy of Language began with Frege’s logic and has continued
to the present day to be heavily influenced by considerations of formal logic.
Logicians need not be interested in the psychological reality of logical systems.
Frege’s logical system is much more powerful than Aristotle’s, but for all I know
Aristotle may be closer to the way people actually think. It does not matter
to logicians.
Keywords: meaning, intentionality, language, speech acts, commitment

Philosophers of language have tended to assume that the mapping of

some linguistic phenomenon onto a formal system will give a solution to
a philosophical problem and give us great insight of the operation of lan-
guage. Russell’s Theory of Descriptions is one of the most famous cases
of this, but there are numerous contemporary examples as well. Possible
worlds semantics seems to be a classic case: one domain that seems puzzling
is mapped onto another domain, and if some type of formal equivalence is
achieved, i.e., the truth conditions are the same, then this is assumed to
provide an explanation. In my opinion this is incorrect. An adequate philo-
sophical insight cannot be obtained merely by means of a mapping that
provides an equivalence. This would be akin to suggesting that in order to
properly understand the sentence, ‘all ravens are black’, one must realize
that what it really says is, ‘all non-black things are non-ravens.’ The two
sentences are logically equivalent in that they are true or false in exactly the
same set of circumstances, but the second does not give you an analysis of
the psychological reality of saying ‘all ravens are black.’ Much contemporary
Philosophy of Language seems to operate in this manner. For example, let us

ISBN 978–83–7431–402–2 ISSN 0860-150X 27

John R. Searle

consider Russell’s famous Theory of Descriptions. How does Russell achieve

uniqueness of reference? In Russell’s example, to say that the King of France
is bald is to say that there is at least one x such that x is a King of France
and for each thing y, y is a King of France only if y is identical with x. This,
however, is psychologically unrealistic. Our notion of an object is already
one of a unique object. It is not necessary to consider the entire universe,
or even the domain under discussion, in order to achieve uniqueness. The
problem with much of the contemporary Philosophy of Language has been
the supposition that it is sufficient to obtain an equivalence, i.e., that if
the truth conditions on each side of a biconditional are the same, then an
adequate explanation has been achieved. In general, however, I do not be-
lieve this to be the case; psychological reality ought to play a much greater
role. Perhaps surprisingly, it seems that Frege, the inventor of contemporary
logic, was more “psychologically real” than his successors, such as Russell,
because he attempted to reach an intuitively plausible distinction between
Sinn and Bedeutung.
Putting aside the question of philosophers’ work with formal mecha-
nisms, let us consider linguistics. The work of Chomsky and his entire move-
ment have, in my opinion, been disappointing as well. This disappointment
can be illustrated by the fact that after 50 years of searching for an adequate
system of generative grammar, no system has yet been produced that has
satisfied all or even most competent linguists. It is a remarkable sociological
fact that, at least in the United States, Chomsky continues to dominate the
field – not in the sense that everybody agrees with his answers, but that in
general they accept his questions, which is a much more profound influence.
Linguists continue to respond to his questions and to his answers, and it
may seem surprising that no “Young Turks” have come to overthrow him.
Perhaps this is because Chomsky is his own Young Turk, in the sense that
every few years he changes direction entirely and overthrows much of his
previous work.2
Neither the philosophy of language nor technical linguistics offers what
I believe an account of language should provide. Let us try to answer the
question, put very broadly, of what language is. Standard textbook accounts
of language state that language has three components: a phonological, a syn-
tactical, and a semantic component. The phonological and syntactical com-
ponents are idiosyncratic, i.e., the words in the syntactic structures of one
language are not the same as in another language, although perhaps if one
could observe them through a sufficiently distant telescope they would ap-
pear alike. Chomsky has said that if a Martian linguist came to Earth it
would seem to him that we all speak the same language; the vocabularies

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differ, but essentially it is all one language. While this may or may not be
fully accurate, it is an interesting idea that all languages do share some
commonalities.
It is worth noting that the idiosyncrasies of the syntactical and phono-
logical components of different languages are not supposed to apply to the
pragmatic component, which is considered to be a further necessary com-
ponent, in addition to syntax, phonology and semantics. This fourth com-
ponent has to do with how the language is used. The rules of the pragmatic
component are presumed not to be specific to any particular language, but
rather are very general rules of rationality. The most famous statement
of the principles of the pragmatic component would be Grice’s Maxims of
Conversation. These are not supposed to be specific to any language, but
rather apply generally to all forms of human communication because they
are supposed to be very general principles of rationality.
Thus, according to the orthodox conception of language, it consists of
phonology, syntax and semantics, to which a pragmatic component may be
added that is presumably universal, not confined to any one language. A cru-
cial feature of language is absent from these accounts, namely the notion of
commitment. Human languages are characterized by a type of commitment
which is not found in other forms of human and animal interactions. If such
commitment exists among animals, it would appear to be present in a far
lesser degree than in human languages.
The method I will use to develop an account will be a kind of genetic
account, in which we will imagine how language might have evolved. It is
a remarkable fact that there was a time in the history of our planet when
beasts that looked very similar to human beings today did not have lan-
guage, but sometime later their descendants, beasts of similar appearance,
did have language. We do not know, and may never know, what led to
this change, because there is no fossil evidence. Most anthropological pre-
histories rely on fossil evidence, e.g., the examination of a jaw bone, but
fossil evidence does not reveal how language evolved. Physical anthropolo-
gists rely to an enormous extent on fossils. For instance, the anthropologists
have claimed that the human community living in Tautavel four hundred
fifty thousand years ago must have had language because their brains were
large enough to support Broca’s area and Wernicke’s area. This inference
appears to be quite fragile, as these people left no visible signs of having
had a language. In contrast to this approach, I will ask how language might
have evolved. While this may appear to be an attempt at a speculative his-
tory of the development of language, in fact it is a sort of logical analysis,
in which we ask what pre-linguistic animals similar to ourselves possess,

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and what they additionally require in order to attain a language more or

less like human language. Thus we will treat the question as a genetic one,
but it is not speculative historical biology because we do not know how
language did in fact evolve; despite numerous interesting speculations, hard
evidence is lacking. We can, however, raise an interesting logical question:
what would hominids with pre-linguistic intentionality need in order to at-
tain language?
It should first be noted that pre-linguistic intentionality in animals is in
fact quite rich, as the pre-linguistic animal can discriminate and remember
a wide variety of features of its environment, and even make short-term
plans regarding its future contact with or behavior in the environment.
In other words, the pre-linguistic conscious animal with a certain degree
of intellectual capacity has a fairly large number of cognitive categories
both in perception and thought. Many of the traditional (Aristotelian and
Kantian) categories, including the category of an object, of a property, of
change, of identity, of causation, and of time and space exist in large numbers
of conscious animals. We can see this by observing our own pet dogs, for
example, with which we can carry on “conversations” of a pre-linguistic kind.
While some philosophers may claim that animals cannot think, it is clear
that dogs have thoughts, with different degrees of intelligence. Davidson
claims that animals cannot have beliefs, as they cannot distinguish between
a true belief and a false belief. That seems to be plainly false. Anyone who
owns a dog will be aware that the dog sometimes changes from holding
a false belief, for example, that the cat is up the tree to the true belief that
the cat has gone to somebody else’s yard. It annoys animal ethologists that
philosophers typically appeal to their household pets rather than to the best
research, so if you want to see some research, there are several useful books
on animal cognition.3
Let us assume that there are conscious animals that have many of the
Aristotelian categories and Kantian categories. They can recognize causal
relations because they cause things themselves. They can identify other con-
sciousnesses: a dog behaves differently towards people or other dogs than
towards stones or trees. Even as a puppy it does not bite its owner or an-
other puppy as hard as it bites a bone. Thus it seems that animals have an
awareness of other minds. What must be added to this pre-linguistic inten-
tionality in order that the animal can develop a language? It must be kept
in mind that this has actually occurred; it happened in the case of human
beings, and to a lesser extent with certain other animals as well. Perhaps
the most famous example is bee language, which is interesting because it
appears to have a type of syntax; there appear to be syntactical differences

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in the varying amounts of information conveyed by the waggle dance, as the

bee communicates to its fellow-bees in the hive.
Now let us imagine these humanoids to be developing a language. They
already have a rich system of consciousness and human intentional states.
These typically have a structure that includes both a propositional content
and a psychological mode. For example, the belief that it is raining, the in-
tention to move over there and the fear that an intruder is approaching. It
has these states in a psychological mode which I represent by the letter “S”
and the propositional content I represent with the letter “p.” So a typi-
cal psychological state, such as a belief that it is raining, would be of the
form S(p). One psychological mode can be perception, e.g., the animal sees
someone approaching. Then, on the basis of seeing someone approaching,
the animal comes to believe that someone is approaching. The pre-linguistic
animal biology already contains structures that are intentional states having
both a psychological mode and a propositional content.
Furthermore, biology allows for a distinction between the way the mind
relates to reality when the task of the mind is to determine how reality
actually is (perceptions and beliefs), and how the mind relates to reality
when the task is to change reality to make it come to match the contents
of the mind (intentions and desires). I refer to these two cases as different
“directions of fit.”4 Belief, whose task is to match how things are, have the
“mind-to-world” direction of fit, represented by a downward arrow, while
desires and intentions, whose task is to change the world to match the con-
tents of the mind, have the “world-to-mind” direction of fit represented by
an upward arrow. Thus we can contrast desire and intention on the one hand
with belief, perception and memory on the other. This is crucial, because
human languages have these features; they have propositional contents with
what Austin called a certain illocutionary force. The structure of the speech
act is going to be very like the structure of the intentional state. Thus one
can believe that it is raining, can see that it is raining, and can state that
it is raining. We can use the letter “F” to represent the illocutionary force.
The speech act thus have the structure F(p).
There is a crucial difference between intentional states and speech acts,
in that the former are actual, biologically given, mental phenomena, while
the latter are actions; one must do something in order to produce a speech
act. How does the animal get from possessing intentional states to being
able to perform speech acts? What does the animal need, in addition to
what it has by virtue of its psychology, in order to make a statement, make
a promise, or ask a question? Let us assume not only that the animal has
many of the Aristotelian and Kantian categories built into its consciousness,

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John R. Searle

but that the structure of its mental life is able to distinguish between the
content of the states and the type of states that they are. The animal must
also be able to coordinate these; if it desires food then it must be able to
recognize food when it encounters it, to eat the food intentionally, and to
recognize that it has eaten the food.
This introduces an additional notion: when a propositional content in
a psychological mode has a direction of fit, the intentional state can be
said to represent – or in the case of perception, to present – its “conditions
of satisfaction”, where truth conditions are one kind of condition of satis-
faction, and obedience conditions or fulfillment conditions are other kinds.
Whenever one of these S(p) structures has an entire propositional content,
there is a representation of how reality is or how the animal would like to,
or intends to, make it. The task of the sensory nervous system is to achieve
the mind-to-world direction of fit, while the task of the motor nervous sys-
tem is to achieve the world-to-mind direction of fit. The sensory nervous
system presents reality, and the motor nervous system changes it. Our basic
psychology recognizes this distinction, which is necessary but not sufficient
for having language.
The mental states whose task is to represent how world is are belief,
perception and memory, while those whose task is to change the world, are
typically desires and intentions. These two types of mental state correspond
to the distinction between the aspect of our biology that describes how
things are and the aspect that changes reality. It is essential that there
are two basic ways in which we relate to reality: perceiving and believing
how things are on the one hand, and wanting and intending them to be in
a different way on the other. Much of life is a matter of coordinating these.
For example, one desires to drink water, one intends to drink water, one
perceives water – a different direction of fit with the same content – and so
one intentionally drinks water. Thus far, none of this is unique to humans.
I believe it is clear that primates have this apparatus, as do most mammals,
although this has been challenged by certain philosophers.
Furthermore, human beings and some animals have a strong capacity to
communicate the state of reality to other animals by making certain gestures
or movements. Bees are the most well-known example, because they per-
form quite sophisticated waggle dances which convey information to other
members of the hive. The vervet monkeys are said to convey three types
of information by making three types of noises, corresponding to different
types of danger, such as a leopard, a hawk overhead, or a snake in the grass.
This could be thought to suggest that they have some kind of syntax. A cru-
cial distinction should be made here between expression and representation.

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Animal communication is often merely expressive. For instance, when a dog

barks angrily at another dog, nothing is being represented; it is only an
expression of hostility. Which animal cries are expressive and which are rep-
resentational is unknown, but the theoretical difference is that expression,
as the etymology of the word suggests, is merely a “pushing out” of one’s
mental state, whereas representation is semantically evaluable, i.e., it can
be true or false. If a dog barks angrily, the bark is neither true nor false. But
if a human being says, “Rain!” that can be true or false. Although a one-
word sentence such as “Rain!” appears to be similar to a one-word sentence
such as “Ouch!”, they are in fact vastly different. The one-word sentence,
“Rain!”, represents the state of affairs that it is raining, while “Ouch!” is not
a representation, but merely an expression of one’s pain. It is, of course, pos-
sible to construct a situation in which “Ouch!” would be a representational
statement; for example, we can imagine that a dentist says, “If it hurts too
much, say ‘Ouch!’” Such situations, however, are clearly exceptions. Ex-
pressions must be distinguished from representations, and this distinction
is crucial for language. From what does human language derive its capacity
to represent? As established earlier, if the S(p) structure has a direction of
fit and conditions of satisfaction, they are all representations. Intentional
states that have a propositional content and a direction of fit are the raw
material of language. The question is, what does the animal additionally
require in order to produce a speech act, i.e., an illocutionary act? Here
I will make my first major theoretical claim, which is that we need to intro-
duce the notion of a “speaker meaning”, referring to the situation in which
the speaker says something and means something by it. I contend that the
speaker meaning in an action always involves producing some movement,
sound or gesture with a certain intention. It is a complex intention, unlike
ordinary intentions, such as the intention to move across the room; it is the
intention to represent.
What constitutes the intention to represent? Let me propose a thesis
which captures the essence of speaker meaning. In the case of speaker mean-
ing, the speaker intentionally imposes conditions of satisfaction on condi-
tions of satisfaction. If one raises one’s hand, that movement is the condition
of satisfaction of the intention to perform it. The intention to raise one’s
hand will be carried out only if one does in fact raise one’s hand. However,
if one raises one’s hand by way of signaling to another person that he should
come, one gestures in the particular way that one typically does to indicate
that someone should come. This entails a complexity to the raising of the
hand that was absent when it was simply a case of raising one’s hand. The
raising of the hand, which was the condition of satisfaction of one’s intention

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John R. Searle

to do so, itself has conditions of satisfaction, namely obedience conditions.

Or, if a state of affairs is being represented, the conditions of satisfaction are
truth conditions. Thus the crucial step in the development of language from
pre-linguistic intentional phenomena is the development of speaker mean-
ing, where speaker meaning involves the intentional imposition of conditions
of satisfaction on objects, states of affairs, or movements. The difference be-
tween saying something and meaning it and saying it without meaning it
is a question of imposing conditions of satisfaction on conditions of satis-
faction. Consider, for example, the difference between saying something in
a foreign language in order to practice pronunciation, and actually mean-
ing it. In the first case one may say repeatedly, “il pleut, il pleut, il pleut”,
without meaning to say that it is raining. If, however, one says, “il pleut”
in order to state that it is raining, then something is meant by it. The
difference between saying something and meaning it and saying something
without meaning it is that in the first case the utterance is semantically
evaluable. It can be true or false, because the speaker has intentionally im-
posed conditions of satisfaction on conditions of satisfaction, which in this
case are truth conditions. It is an intentional act to say “il pleut” even
when the speaker does not mean it, but when the speaker means it, he says
it with the intention that it should represent the state of affairs, truly or
falsely, which is a case of intentionally imposing conditions of satisfaction
on conditions of satisfaction. This is the key to speaker meaning. Grice, in
his famous analysis of meaning,5 stated that meaning is a matter of intend-
ing to produce beliefs, or other types of perlocutionary effects, in a hearer.
I believe that this is mistaken as an analysis of meaning, but is instead an
analysis of the communication of meaning. When there is speaker meaning,
with a propositional content having a certain illocutionary force such as
that as of an assertion, then the speaker can convey this to the hearer. He
does this by causing the hearer to recognize that he was making an asser-
tion, that he was intending to impose certain conditions of satisfaction, and
furthermore, that he was intending that his intention should be recognized.
Gricean self-reflexivity requires an intention that the hearer will recog-
nize one’s intention but the key concept in Grice’s analysis was not meaning,
but communication. The meaning of an utterance is created by imposing
conditions of satisfaction, and that meaning is communicated by causing the
hearer to recognize one’s intention to impose conditions of satisfaction on
conditions of satisfaction and to recognize one’s intention and to recognize
that he is intended to recognize the intention. Yet this basic structure and
speaker meaning, by which the speaker can intend to produce a meaningful
utterance by intending that conditions of satisfaction be imposed on condi-

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tions of satisfaction, is still far from sufficient to achieve language. There is

no inner structure here. There is, however, a distinction between represen-
tation and expression, and the key to understanding language in the human
sense is not expression but representation. There are expressive speech acts,
such as “ouch!” or “damn!”, but the key speech acts are the representa-
tional ones, which invariably impose conditions of satisfaction on conditions
of satisfaction.
The next crucial element I will introduce is the notion of a procedure.
If animals have a procedure whereby they can represent the same type of
state of affairs on different occasions, then that procedure can reasonably
be called a convention. If animals have standard ways of behaving such
that other animals can recognize those standard ways of behaving, then
in a particular situation a convention is being invoked, in order to create
not simply an act of meaning but an act of communication, where what is
communicated is the meaning. The introduction of conventions is the next
crucial element of language.
When we have basic intentional structures together with an intentional
act, speaker meaning, which is a matter of imposing conditions of satisfac-
tion on conditions of satisfaction, and standard procedures for doing so,
which I am calling conventions, these introduce a crucial new element,
namely a speaker’s capacity to lie. In order to be committed to the truth,
one must at least potentially be able to lie. Nietzsche said that what is re-
markable about human beings is that they can make promises. I would add
that it is also remarkable that they can make deliberately false statements
and insincere promises, and that in general they can lie. Animals in general
cannot lie; they can deceive, for example when a bird behaves as though
it is wounded in order to distract predators from its young, but this is not
lying, it is merely deceit. Lying is performing an intentional act which has
the mind-to-world direction of fit when in fact the speaker believes it to be
false. Frege invented the assertion sign ⊢ and we can use it to mark the
assertive illocutionary force. Performing one of these acts which represent
states of affairs commits one to truth, but it is possible to be committed to
the truth of a proposition which in fact one believes to be false. This is what
we call a lie.
Given conventional devices for imposing conditions of satisfaction on
sounds, movements, and utterances, what more is needed to achieve lan-
guage? As mentioned above, the traditional Aristotelian and Kantian cate-
gories are largely instantiated in human and animal consciousness. The an-
imal has the ability to break up its experiences into objects and their prop-
erties, including spatial and temporal relations, movement, and causal rela-

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John R. Searle

tions. I am supposing that in this device which the animal uses to represent,
a distinction can be made between the referring element and the predicat-
ing element, i.e., between something corresponding to the noun phrase (NP)
and something corresponding to the verb phrase (VP).
We know from experience and from animal studies that animals have
the capacity to discriminate objects, to discriminate the same object in
different circumstances, and to discriminate the same object as having one
property at one time and then a different property at another time. For
example, a dog can see that its owner was once in one place, but now
is in another place. I believe that the distinction between properties and
objects, and the fact that objects possess properties, is given by the biology
of animal consciousness. Now let us suppose that the humanoid is capable
of performing a speech act of the form F(p); it can make a distinction
between the noun phrase and the verb phrase in the syntax of this particular
device that expresses the proposition. This is a stunning advance, because
in language, unlike pre-linguistic forms of consciousness and intentionality,
there are not only representations, but representative devices that can be
manipulated. It is the free manipulation of these symbolic devices that gives
language its enormous expressive power, because these elements that make
up the representation introduce something that corresponds to the inner
syntax of a sentence.
Thus we have an utterance with a certain illocutionary force built into
its meaning and a distinction between reference and predication, i.e., the
difference between referring to an object and saying something about that
object, which is now built into the syntax. For example, while a dog can
believe that someone is approaching the door, it is not clear how he might
believe that the door is approaching someone, or that there might be a thou-
sand people approaching the door, or that he wishes fewer people were
approaching the door, because such thoughts require syntactical devices.
Inner syntax introduces three components which are absolutely crucial in
language: discreteness, compositionality and generativity.

Discreteness
What is significant about these devices is that they preserve their iden-
tity under permutations and transformations. Words and morphemes corre-
sponding to reference and predication preserve their identity under changes.
A sentence may have eight or twelve words, but it cannot have nine and one
half words, as half-words do not exist. An early objection to generative
grammars was that generativity was trivial, because, for example, a recipe
for baking a cake can be called generative: “add a cup of sugar”, “add a cup

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of flour.” A recipe, however, lacks the property of discreteness, as the sugar,

butter and flour lose their identity when they are baked in the oven and
are no longer sugar and flour. Words and morphemes, however, remain the
same, despite undergoing various transformations.

Compositionality
The feature of compositionality is also crucial because it enables the
animal to produce and understand sentences solely in terms of understand-
ing the meanings of the words or morphemes and the way in which they
are combined and recombined. For instance, English speakers understand
the difference between “John loves Mary” and “Mary loves John” because
although the words are the same, the sentences are composed differently.

Generativity
The feature of generativity is the capacity to constantly produce new
sentences in which rules are applied repeatedly. These rules are known as
recursive rules. Thus we can have not only a relative clause, but a relative
clause attached to a relative clause, and then another relative clause at-
tached to that relative clause, e.g., “I met a man who knew my mother when
she lived in Kansas City, where they have a large baseball team...” The num-
ber of relative clauses that can be added is indefinite. Owing to these three
features, syntax, i.e., the inner syntax of a sentence, is an enormously pow-
erful addition which provides an expressive power inconceivable to animals
that can have only representations. The morphemes preserve their identity
under transformation, the total unit is compositional, i.e., the meaning of
the sentence can be computed from knowing the meanings of the parts in
the structure, and normal human language is generative, in the sense that
it has recursive rules that can be applied repeatedly. We do not know how it
occurred that these three crucial elements appeared so that human beings
began to have language. We do know that the following must have evolved in
some order: speaker meaning (which some animals have); speaker meaning
in representations, not merely expression; conventions; and an inner syn-
tax, i.e., a set of elements which enables us to distinguish between reference
and predication and which has discreteness, compositionality, and for fully
developed human languages, generativity.

For the mere existence of basic human language, the crucial feature is
compositionality. Language users must be able to determine the meaning
of new sentences based on the meanings of the elements. Also necessary for
human language is an element corresponding to the logical constants. The

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John R. Searle

animals we have been describing are close to attaining these, because if they
have “p” and “q,” they will need something that is equivalent to “p and q”.
At some point a negation symbol must be introduced as well, and once they
have conjunction and negation they are close to having logical constants.
This is far from quantified modal logic or proofs in second-order logic,
but it is a basic conception of how language could be structured from essen-
tially pre-linguistic elements. The following notions should be remembered
here: conditions of satisfaction, pre-linguistic forms of representation, as op-
posed to merely expression (several animals do have these) and conventions,
i.e. standard procedures.
This is a powerful apparatus, because intentional acts performed using
a convention introduce a crucial element, namely the notion of a commit-
ment. There are types of commitment for which a language is not necessary,
in which one sees someone doing something and counts on his doing it. How-
ever, the true commitments that arise from truth claims or promises require
conventions. These must be explicit or be made explicit. These require lan-
guage. The existence of the apparatus described thus far, together with
conventions, seems to offer the possibility of types of commitments that are
unknown in the animal kingdom, such as promises and various undertakings
of obligations.
Human beings have the possibility of an explicit commitment. But they
also have another possibilitity; and thus another possibility only known to
exist in human languages: to represent something as being the case and
to make it the case if others accept those representations. The most fa-
mous examples of these are Austin’s performatives, in which, for example,
one represents the meeting as being adjourned by saying, “the meaning
is adjourned,” or a clergyman represents a couple as being husband and
wife by saying, “I pronounce you husband and wife.” What is interesting
about these utterances is that they have both directions of fit at once.
Someone saying “the meeting is adjourned,” thus represents the meeting
as adjourned, but if the speaker is the authority and does this properly,
then he or she changes reality, thus achieving the upward, or world-to-word,
direction of fit by representing the world as already having been changed.
Speech acts of this type, in which one makes something the case by repre-
senting it as being the case, can be called Declarations. These seem to be
unique to human beings. This is significant because it concerns the difference
between human civilization and animal societies. Animals have a wide vari-
ety of forms of social organization, for example they have alpha males and
alpha females, but they lack such phenomena as money, government, foot-
ball games, private property, cocktail parties, universities, or taxes. This

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is because these require the capacity to create a certain type of reality,

and this requires language. Human beings, as well as many other animals,
have the capacity to use things, where the use is a function imposed by
human intentionality. A chimpanzee, for example, may use a stick to ex-
tract ants from a hole, birds may use twigs to build a nest, or beavers may
use wood to build a dam. Thus the imposition of function is not unique
to human beings. Yet there is a certain type of function which cannot be
performed in virtue of physical structure, or in virtue of physical structure
alone. Human beings have created a wide variety of these functions. One
example of these is money. It is money not because of its physical struc-
ture but because human beings accept and recognize it as money. This is
a type of function that can only be performed in virtue of the collective
acceptance of a person or an object as having a certain status. We can
call these “Status Functions.” This is the distinguishing feature of human
civilization. The examples mentioned above, which animals do not have –
private property, taxes, cocktail parties, income tax, universities – are all
Status Functions.
These functions are created by a special class of Declarations and are
maintained by continued representations that have the logical form of a Sta-
tus Function Declaration. They are initially brought into existence, and then
maintained in existence, by representations that have this form. This need
not be explicit. For instance, a person in a group can become the boss of the
group simply because its members treat her as the boss, recognize her as
the boss, and continue to represent her as the boss. This behavior plays the
role of the Status Function Declaration. She becomes the boss as a result of
repeated representations that accord her these rights.
Human beings create Status Functions because they are sources of
power, in order to create power relations. The powers created by Status
Function Declarations have names such as (in English) “rights,” “duties,”
“responsibilities,” “obligations,” “authorizations,” and “permission.” A gen-
eral name for these is “deontic powers,” from the Greek word for “duty.”
Deontic powers are significant because they lock into human rationality, in
that they provide reasons for acting that are independent of one’s desires.
Thus the Status Function Declarations create Status Functions, which in
turn create deontic powers, and these provide desire-independent reasons
for acting. For example, if I make a promise to do something, then I have
a reason to do it even if I have no desire to. Innumerable elements of daily life
are Status Functions, such as property, money, credit cards, bank accounts,
citizenship, or the professions of doctor or lawyer. We can refer to this as
institutional reality.

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John R. Searle

The creation of institutional reality a sense requires language, specif-

ically a certain kind of language that enables the performance of Status
Function Declarations. Our intellectual history is characterized by a major
error in its theories of social reality, because all of the great thinkers, be-
ginning with Aristotle, took language for granted; their analysis of society
assumed the existence of language. Social contract theorists have suggested
that human beings with language at some point chose to have a social con-
tract. In fact, if people have a language capable of creating Status Functions,
they already have a social contract, because it is built into communication
in a common language.

NOTES
1 This article is pretty much a verbatim transcript of the talk I gave in Warsaw at
the 10th ArgDiaP Conference: “Speech Acts and Arguments” (18 May, 2013). It is the
continuation of an argument I began in an earlier article, The Nature of Language. A more
accurate title would have contained the phrase “Some Functions” to avoid any implication
that I will discuss all the functions of language.
2 This was pointed out to me by Robert van Valin.
3 For example, Vauclair, Jaques. Animal cognition: an introduction to modern compar-
ative psychology. Harvard University Press, 1996.
4 I believe the first person to use this expression was J.L. Austin.
5 Grice, H. Paul. “Meaning.” The philosophical review 66.3 (1957): 377–388.

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