INTRODUCTION

     Pygmalion had seen these women spending their lives in shame, and, disgusted with the faults which in such full measure nature had given the female mind, he lived unmarried and long was without a partner of his couch.  Meanwhile, with wondrous art he successfully carves a figure out of snowy ivory, giving it a beauty more perfect than that of any woman ever born.  And with his own work he falls in love.  The face is that of a real maiden, whom you would think living and desirous of being moved, if modesty did not prevent. So does his art conceal his art. Pygmalion looks in admiration and is inflamed with love for this semblance of a form (Ovid, Metamorphoses X, 243-255)

     The story of Pygmalion and the history of epistemology have much in common.  Both illustrate the power that our representations can have over us.  Both are attempts to make our representations come alive.

     All of us, like Pygmalion, have the tendency to attribute properties to representations by themselves that they have only in virtue of our interpretation of them. Physical objects that can serve as representations are a prime example of this. An ivory statue of a woman has physical similarities to real human forms, and we take it as representing a real woman. But the ivory itself has none of the other properties of humans even though it conjures up these properties in its role as representation. Yet, the representation, the physical object, takes us in and attracts us by the allure of its simplicity, clarity, passivity, and, most of all, by its externality.

    The representation has a simplicity and clarity not found in the object or our interpretation of it. The object is represented by only a few of its properties, giving simplicity to the representation, and these are thrust into prominence by their selection, providing clarity. This clarity and simplicity is enhanced by the fact that the physical representation is static and unchanging. Compare this to the everchanging complex of properties that makes up a real woman. The representation in comparison is passive and unchanging, providing opportunities for contemplation and control that the object does not. Likewise, our interpretation of the representation has a complexity and a motility not found in the representation itself. Our interpretation introduces a tangled morass of opinions, associations, beliefs, and memories into the representation, all of which are of dubious quality, are internal to us, and reflect ourselves as much as the object represented. The physical representation, on the other hand, is external to us. The simplicity and clarity of the representation have no allure if they are imposed by us, and the power we have over representations in virtue of their passivity loses its flavor if it is not power over something external to us.

     The drive to attribute properties to representations themselves that they only have in virtue of our interpretation is due to an attempt to have our cake and eat it too. Pygmalion's statue has an attractiveness in virtue of the properties discussed above, properties that it has as a simple physical object. Yet, these properties retain their attractiveness only if they also represent the other properties of the woman. The statue must represent a woman, not just the shape of a woman. It is only these other properties (e.g., warmth, suppleness, and personality) that give the representation vivacity, but these all seem to be added by us in our interpretation. The attempt to make our representations come alive is the attempt to combine the vivacity of our representations as interpreted with the attractiveness they have as objects. It promises to make the clarity, passivity, and externality of the object come alive not through our intervention, as derivative from our life, but on its own, through its own power, with its own life.

     This attempt, however, is doomed to failure, and its promise is empty. The representation cannot of its own power call up any properties that it does not possess. Without these other properties the representation cannot come alive. In fact (and this is the real point of this discussion) it cannot even be a representation without these other properties; it is simply an object. The ivory statue has certain physical properties that are similar to those of a woman. Apart from the interpretation of an observer with certain abilities and concepts, however, these similarities will not allow the statue to represent a woman. A dog passing the statue in the museum may note the similarity and pause to sniff the statue, but finding it cold and unresponsive will pass on. The properties of the statue do not themselves lead on to other properties of the object not instantiated in the statue. The dog does not take the statue as a representation of a woman. This requires something that the statue itself cannot supply: it requires the activity of an agent with abilities and concepts that allows them to connect the properties present in the statue to the other properties of women.

     The point here is not that there cannot be similarities between the statue and the woman, nor that there cannot be enough of them. The point is that similarity is not representation. The argument here is simple. In order to represent an object, the representation must call up properties of the object other than those the representation possesses. But the representation cannot by itself in virtue of its similarities call up the other properties of the object. This requires an interpreter with knowledge of the other properties of the object and with dispositions to associate these other properties with the properties present in the representation. The statue by itself cannot, in virtue of its similarity to an object, represent the other properties of the object. Thus it cannot represent the whole object. Nor can it represent part of the object, namely the part that it is similar to. For it does not represent those properties it simply instantiates them. For example, a round yellow piece of plastic cannot itself represent the sun with all its other properties, because it requires an interpreter with certain abilities and dispositions to call up the other properties of the sun. Nor can it represent just the yellowness and roundness of the sun, because it simply instantiates these properties. It no more represents yellowness or roundness than the millions of other things that are yellow or round. Even if the similarity between the representation and the object is made complete, similarity itself does not establish representation. The object that is completely similar to the sun, the sun itself, does not represent itself. It is itself.

     Similarity, then, is not representation, because: (1) the similar properties themselves do not, by themselves, call up the other properties of the object; and (2) they do not represent the properties to which they are similar; they simply instantiate them. This argument shows that similarity is not sufficient for representation. Similarity is not necessary either. Often by decision or convention we allow something to represent an object to which it is not similar, as when we decide to let an arbitrary letter of the alphabet to stand for a person. Similarity, then is neither necessary nor sufficient for representation. Of course, similarity often does play a role in representation. As Hume saw, similarity is one of the principles according to which humans tend to associate things. It is still the humans, however, that do the associating that allows the objects with the similarities to serve as a representation. Similarity to the object it is meant to represent cannot make the representation come alive.

           The moral of this homily on the myth of Pygmalion is twofold: First, representations do not come to life by themselves. No gods will breathe life into our representations as they did to Pygmalion's. We must bring them to life ourselves. And a dead representation is no representation at all. That is, objects only have representative qualities insofar as they are interpreted, and objects do not interpret themselves. Objects do not represent, people do. We call objects representations only in virtue of our activity of interpreting them. Second, representations do not serve as substitutes for objects in virtue of their ability to represent them apart from any interpretation. Representation requires the activity of an agent; when this activity ceases the object ceases to be a representation. Therefore, representations cannot serve as vessels that are infused with representative power and which can then function on their own to take the place of interaction with the object. This is to confuse representation with communication. Communication does involve representation, but we do not communicate by bringing representations to life and then passing them on to others.

     There is a common sense of the word "representation" that is tied to this view of communication. This is representation as the encoding of information. This involves taking information and placing it in a new medium in which it takes another form and from which it can be retrieved. Examples of this are the storage of a visual image on a photographic negative, the storage of information on computer disks, and the encoding of genetic information on DNA strands. All of these are popular models for representation. It seems in all of these as if the information is stored or represented in virtue of the physical properties of the representative medium. Here if anywhere it seems as if the representations do their work by themselves. Even these representations, however, do not have a life of their own: First, it is only as a part of a causal system allowing the reproduction of the original form of the information that these objects can be thought of as encoding information. The information itself is not present and intact in the new medium, as anyone who has had a computer disk without the appropriate software to read it can attest. The very same physical object with all the same properties would not be an encoding of information if the causal system, in this case computers, did not exist. Second, even as situated in the causal system the object does not represent or encode information unless it can be interpreted. A causal system that reproduces information does not represent. It may be useful to an interpreter who can interpret the reproduced information and use it to represent, but it does not do the job itself. A chair factory does not represent chairs; it makes them. Thus, a system for encoding information does not itself represent, although it may be useful for a creature that can represent.

     Representations, therefore, cannot take the place of objects and interaction with them. Pygmalion created his statue  through interaction with real women. His production of the statue was an act of representing a real woman in ivory. The status of the piece of ivory as a representation depends upon this act. The ability of the ivory to represent a woman to other people does not rest within the ivory itself, as the dog in the museum shows, but in the abilities and knowledge of the people who interpret it. They must themselves perform an act of interpretation to allow the ivory to represent a woman, and this requires previous interaction with women as well. The ivory is not a substitute for real women, it is a way of representing real women, and as such it presupposes independent access to real women and knowledge of their other properties on the part of the person who is to interpret it.

     No object can represent in virtue of its own properties apart from the activity of an interpreter. Therefore, a representation cannot serve as a substitute for an object, a container into which information is poured to be stored for future use or passed on to someone else.

     This dissertation is an attempt to apply these two morals to explain the role that representations play in knowledge. I will call the basic thesis that we know by representing the Representational Model of Epistemology. This model of knowledge has been so closely tied to the attempt to make representations come alive that some have argued that when we see that the attempt to make representations come alive must be a failure, then we will see that the Representational Model of Epistemology is itself a failure. It is the purpose of this work to show that this is not so. Even after we see that representations cannot come alive by themselves, we can still hold that we know by representing. The representations may not be able to do it themselves, but we can know through their mediation.

     This entire dissertation is an attempt to defend this thesis by, first, sketching the outline of a theory of representation that takes the two morals above seriously and takes the act of representing as the basic unit of analysis instead of separating the representation from its situation in the context of this act. Next, I show how this view of representation affects a representative model of knowledge. I argue that the Representational Model of Epistemology escapes the traditional objections raised against it when it incorporates this view of representing and that this version of the Representational Model of Epistemology is preferable to non-representational models of knowledge.

     Before we begin these formidable tasks, however, we need to look more closely at the model of representation attacked in this introduction and at what type of view of knowledge it leads to. In particular we will need to see what type of model of objectivity it leads to. We will also need to see what a view of representation that takes the morals of this introduction seriously would look like. Chapter One attempts to do these things. In Chapter Two, I look at some of the main manifestations of these models of representation and objectivity in the history of philosophy. In Chapter Three, I examine the basic objections to the traditional version of the Representational Model of Epistemology, in particular the objections raised by Richard Rorty.

     These three chapters comprise the first part of the dissertation. The second part spells out in more detail the alternative view of representation being put forth in this dissertation. Chapter Four is an account of reference, or how we can represent external objects if the intrinsic properties of the representations cannot do the job alone.  Chapter Five deals with concepts or predication. It examines the sets of dispositions and abilities we have to represent things in certain ways. This chapter and the chapter on reference are the most crucial in the work. It is the special properties of our concepts, especially, that make the attempt to make representations come alive seem plausible. Chapter Six attempts to spell out the view of knowledge and objectivity that this theory of representation leads to. It does this by centering upon the model of agency or the application of concepts that this view of representation leads to. These three chapters comprise the second part of the dissertation. The third part attempts to defend the views set forth in Part Two by using them to reply to a set of related objections to the Representational Model of Epistemology. Chapter Seven considers Hegel's argument against Sense Certainty, the problem of indexicals, de re and de dicto belief, John Searle's argument against literal meaning, and Putnam's model theoretic argument. I argue that all these problems are related and can be solved by the view of representation presented in Part Two. Chapter Eight looks in detail at a series of arguments by Hilary Putnam, and Chapter Nine attempts to reply to these arguments. Putnam's arguments, it seems to me, are by far the most clear and thorough of the objections to the Representational Model of Epistemology. Consequently, much of the argument for my view of representation depends on its ability to answer Putnam's arguments.

     But before we move on to these topics, let us get clear about the models of representation and objectivity involved.