ANDREI MARMOR

ON CONVENTION 1

In this article I want to discuss the normative aspects of social conventions.

Conventions, like other types of norm, are commonly taken to provide
reasons for action. But conventions are also (in a way yet to be defined)
arbitrary. Roughly, if a rule is a convention, there must also be at least
one alternative rule that the norm subjects could have followed instead,
achieving the same purpose. This, seemingly paradoxical combination of
normativity and arbitrariness forms the topic of this essay. The main ques-
tion I want to address here then, is this: Why, and under what circumstances,
does it make sense to follow a rule which is arbitrary?
Notably, part of the standard answer to this question poses, in fact, yet
another puzzle: Asked about the reasons for complying with a convention,
it is normally appropriate to reply something like 'I comply with the rule
because others comply with it too'. In other words, there is a clear sense in
which one's reasons for complying with a convention partly consists of the
convention's efficacy: a convention is held to impose a reason for action
only if it is actually complied with by most of its norm subjects. But this
is yet another way in which the normativity of conventions is unique and
problematic. The validity of norms which are not conventions, 2 particularly
moral principles, is not normally taken to depend on their efficacy. Thus,
there are at least two, and as I shall argue, logically related features of
conventions which render their normativity unique and puzzling, namely,
the arbitrariness of conventions and the dependence of their validity on
efficacy.
Following the pioneering work of David Lewis, many philosophers
have sought the answers to these questions in game theoretical analyses
of co-ordination problems. In the third section of this article, I will raise
some doubts about the conclusions of Lewis' theory, arguing that it can
only account for one type of conventions. The normativity of another type
of conventions, which constitute autonomous practices, are not explicable
along the lines suggested by Lewis. Furthermore, the traditional discus-
sions of the topic tend to obscure the distinction between two separate
questions about the normativity of conventions: what are the reasons for

Synthese 107: 349-371, 1996.

(~ 1996Kluwer Aeademic Publishers. Printed in the Netherlands.
350 ANDREIMARMOR

having a given convention in the first place, and what are the reasons for
complying with a convention which is already practised. I will try to show
that the answers to these two questions are not always the same. First,
however, some other issues ought to be addressed. As it is the arbitrariness
of conventions which renders them problematic, I will begin by offering a
definition of the arbitrariness of conventions, exploring some of the impli-
cations that follow from it. Next I consider Margaret Gilbert's alternative
analysis, arguing that it fails to account for the normativity of conventions
in some crucial ways. As between these two opposed attitudes, I will argue,
Lewis seems to have got it right, but his analysis only applies to one type
of conventions. There is, I will argue, another type of conventions not
explicable on the grounds offered by Lewis.

1. ARBITRARINESS DEFINED

Before I venture to propose a definition of the arbitrary nature of conven-

tions, a clarification about the point of definition is called for. David Lewis
provided a formal definition of convention in terms of a set of necessary
and sufficient conditions. 3 Ever since, both friends and foes have followed
suit, either by criticizing various aspects of his definition, or by attempting
alternative ones. 4 This definitional project, however, is rather puzzling.
Conventions are one of the most ubiquitous phenomena of our social lives.
They are constitutive elements of numerous practices we engage in, like
the speaking of a language or playing a game; numerous conventions con-
stitute and regulate the ways in which one ought to behave in society, or in a
work place, etc.; conventions regulate the ways in which people engage in
certain activities, like the conventions of artistic genres, or the conventions
of, say, philosophical discourse; and so on. It would not be unreasonable
of course to assume, that despite this enormous variety of conventions,
they do have a great deal in common. But is it also plausible to expect
that such multifarious examples of conventions can be captured by any one
single definition in terms of a set of necessary and sufficient conditions?
After all, even much simpler concepts notoriously elude any definition, not
to speak of close family members of 'convention', like 'rule', 'tradition',
'law', etc., which very few philosophers have ever tried to define in terms
of necessary and sufficient conditions.
I think that for obvious reasons, we should be at least suspicious of
such a definitional project. In any case, I shall not attempt to follow suit
in this respect, and having expressed my vague misgivings, I shall leave
it at that. 5 On the other hand, it is crucial to note that even concepts
which cannot be defined in tenrts of a set of necessary and sufficient
 ONCONVENTION 351

conditions, may well have certain defining features. The distinction is of

crucial importance, as I will argue that arbitrariness is a defining feature of
conventions. A defining feature of a concept is that thing which the various
phenomena the concept is applied to have in common, and which makes
us use the same concept-word for all. 6 The notion of a defining feature,
which forms our present interest, should be distinguished, however, from
the idea of a logically necessary condition. First, because most concepts
have necessary conditions which are not their defining features. The fact
that all the applications of a given concept-word have a feature, say X,
necessarily in common to them all, does not entail that it is by virtue of X
that we call all those phenomena by the same concept-word (e.g., all chairs
are physical objects, but being a physical object is not a defining feature of
chairs). More controversially, perhaps, it is arguable that a defining feature
is not a strictly necessary feature of all possible applications of the concept
word (even if the concept word is not one of 'family resemblance'). A
defining feature must provide a necessary condition for the applicability of
the concept-word to all its standard examples, but not to every example one
can think of. This, I take it, is a feature of the complexity of our language
use, not a matter of logic. It is simply a fact that almost any concept-word
can have deviant or idiosyncratic applications which, though connected
to its defining feature(s), do not necessarily instantiate it. It could be a
defining feature of a chair, for example, that people should be able to sit
on it. If this is true, it would not be refuted by pointing to, for example, a
bizarre chair exhibited in a modem art gallery which is made of thin paper.
As Wittgenstein once remarked 'if a circumstance makes the use doubtful,
I can say so, and also how the situation is deviant from the usual ones'.7
Finally, it should be kept in mind that it is not the ordinary or dictionary
meaning of'arbitrary' or 'arbitrariness' that we should strive to define here.
Arbitrariness means a number of different things in different contexts. In
some contexts, for example, it is meant to indicate a lack of adequate
reasons for a rule or decision. This, and some other uses of the term
are irrelevant. Our present purpose is confined to an attempt to define
arbitrariness as a defining feature of conventions, whether this accords
with other prevalent uses of the term or not.
Bearing these points in mind, let me now propose a definition of arbi-
trariness as a defining feature of conventions. It runs as follows:
Given that A is the main reason for members of a population, P, for
following a rule, R, in circumstances C, R is an arbitrary rule if and only
i f - there is at least one other rule, R ~, so that if most members of P in
circumstances C, were complying with R ~, then for all members of P , A
would be a sufficient reason to follow R ~instead of R. The rules R and R ~
 352 ANDREIMARMOR

are such that it is normally impossible to comply with them concomitantly

in circumstances C.
There are several points on which this definition deviates from Lewis '8
and some of them are worth emphasizing. To begin with, arbitrariness is
defined here in terms of reasons for action. 9 This is not at odds with Lewis'
definition, as it is meant to emphasize a fairly limited and uncontroversial
point. Namely, that the existence of the akernative rule must be connected to
the original one by the same reasons people in P would have for following
the existing convention. Otherwise, it would simply not be a genuine
alternative. Apart from this, there is another, more important aspect of the
emphasis of reasons here, that I will expound later.
The notion of a sufficient reason calls for some explanation, however.
Some philosophers may believe that all reasons are, as such, sufficient
reasons, in that, other things being equal, one's failure to act according to a
reason that applies in the circumstances is, ipsofacto, wrong. I do not think
that this is a correct view of reasons for action, but nothing in my analysis
here depends on it. That is, as long as it is understood that this is not what is
meant here by 'sufficient reasons'. One may have a reason to play a game,
for instance, but it would not be wrong in any sense if he decides not to
play the game for no reason at all. I do mean, however, that i f A is a reason
for playing the game according to rule R, R is arbitrary if and only if there
is at least one other rule, R', so that if the game were actually played by
compliance with R', A would be a sufficient reason to follow R' instead
of R. Note, however, that not any altemative to R would do; obviously,
many conceivable alternatives would affect the reasons for compliance,
and hence they are not alternatives in the requisite sense. Furthermore,
arbitrariness, as we shall see later, is also a matter of degree.
A more important modification on Lewis consists in the fact that my
definition of arbitrariness is taken to apply to rules, excluding regularities
of behaviour which are not rules, or indeed, anything else which is not a
rule (or set of rules). At one point Lewis raised some doubts about this,
arguing that conventions need not necessarily be rules. In many games, he
claims, players normally develop a set of tacit and informal understandings
about what they are entitled to do in circumstances which are not covered
by the rules of the game. These conventions, he contends, are ones left open
by the "listed rules" of the game. Lewis concedes that "we might call these
understandings rules - unwritten rules, informal rules - if we like". But,
he claims, "we would also be inclined to emphasize their differences from
the listed rules by saying that they are not rules, but only conventions". 1
These cryptic remarks are misleading. They seem to suggest that our
concept of a rule ties rules to some sort of formality, as if rules are only those
 0NCONVENTION 353

things one would find in rule-books, enlisted and codified systematically,

as it were. But such a formalistic conception of rules is inadequate. It is a
convention of many games, for instance, that the participants ought to make
their moves within a reasonable period of time. As procrastination and
lengthy delays would defeat the purpose or the enjoyment of such games,
these conventions are often taken for granted and hence left unstated, as it
were, by the listed rules of the game. They would normally surface once
there is some tendency to deviate from them, and then they might get
enlisted and codified like any other rule of the game. Whether codified
or not, however, such conventions are certainly part of the rules of the
game. In other words, whatever rules are, they are not necessarily 'formal',
written somewhere, or explicitly promulgated as such.
Perhaps it is worth emphasizing that the point here is confined to those
cases which are, in fact, covered by conventions. It is certainly not being
assumed here that practices constituted by sets of conventional rules, such
as games for example, contain no gaps. Situations which are not covered
by the conventions or, where there is some doubt felt about the appropriate
application of a given rule, are likely to occur. In other words, the objection
I have raised is against an attempt to distinguish the rules of the game from
other conventions which apply to it and make it what it is. This does not
entail, of course, that just about any problem that might occur in playing
the game is in fact covered by a convention.
All this might seem to concern a rather trifling point, pertaining more
to the characterization of rules than anything of interest about the concept
of convention. But this is not so. Failing to realize that conventions are
a species of rules has engendered a considerable amount of confusion.
A regularity of behaviour, be it a one-person regularity, or one which is
shared by many, is not necessarily an instance of following a rule. And if
it is not, then it cannot be a matter of convention either. Failing to realize
this can only arise from failure to take into account the normative aspect of
conventions, as such. Numerous things we do, we do regularly, like sleeping
in beds, eating several meals a day, reading books, going to a work-place,
etc. Most of such regularities of behaviour we maintain for good reasons,
and some of them, perhaps, for no reason at all. But the reasons consist
in the value, convenience, prudence, etc., of such activities, considered in
themselves and independently of their dimension qua regularities. People
who do not sleep in beds, don't go to work, or fail to read any books, would
not be criticized for breaking a rule. They could be criticized, of course, for
doing something wrong; but such criticisms do not involve the invocation
of rules. Hence also, it would be misleading to say that such people act
contrary to a convention.
 354 ANDREIMARMOR

Conventions, qua norms, provide reasons for action. Suggesting that a

convention can be a regularity of behaviour even if the regularity is not
an instance of following a rule, would render this normative aspect of
conventions mysterious. An action done contrary to a regularity cannot be
criticized on the basis of it being done contrary to the regularity, unless the
regularity, as such, possesses a normative aspect. It must be normatively
significant that it is a regularity, and not, as it were, a happy coincidence.
Which is just to say that the regularity is meant to be (that is, by the
norm-subjects themselves,) an instance of following a rule. Hence, to
the extent that conventions are norms, they must be rules. 11 And like all
other normative rules, they explicitly guide actions, serve as standards of
evaluation, play explanatory roles in rendering actions intelligible, play a
crucial role in instructing learners how to engage in the pertinent activity,
etc.
Finally, my definition of arbitrariness explicitly avoids the further
requirement suggested by Lewis, that the arbitrary feature of the rule(s)
in question be a matter of common knowledge in P. As Tyler Burge 12
has convincingly demonstrated, this aspect of Lewis' definition is simply
wrong. I take it that his arguments are familiar enough, and I will not repeat
them here in any detail. Burge's main point rests on the fact that people
can be mistaken about the conventional nature of the rules they follow. The
fact that people believe that a rule they follow has no alternative, or that
they simply don't know that it has one, does not constitute a conclusive
evidence that it is in fact not a convention. To mention just one of Burge's
examples, he asks us to imagine a small, completely isolated linguistic
community, none of whose members ever heard of anyone's speaking a
different language. "Such a community would not k n o w - or perhaps even
have reason to believe - that there are humanly possible alternatives to
speaking their language . . . . Yet we have no inclination to deny that their
language is conventional. They are simply ignorant or wrong about the
nature of their activities". 13
Arguably, though perhaps more rarely, the same holds vice versa. It is
possible to imagine that people would believe that the rule they follow is
a convention, whereas in fact it is not. For example, we know that many
people believe that moral rules are basically conventions; many others deny
it. Conceivably, the non-conventionalists can be right.
In other words, it is important to bear in mind that whether a given rule
is a convention or not, is not in-itself a matter of convention. Furthermore,
as some of Burge's examples could easily demonstrate (particularly the one
I have mentioned earlier), it is possible for a certain community to follow
conventions without actually having the concept of a convention. These
 0NCONVENTION 355

points are worth emphasizing, as they provide one important explanation

for the possibility of controversies over the conventionality of a given
realm of human conduct. Had Lewis been correct in maintaining that the
arbitrariness of a convention is necessarily a matter of common knowledge,
there would have been very little room for explaining such controversies.
But Lewis certainly erred here; controversies over the conventionality of a
given rule (or sets of rules) is rendered possible and intelligible due to the
fact that they often involve complex issues of fact which are not necessarily
a matter of common knowledge.
This important modification offered by Burge, however, ought to be kept
to its narrow limits, as it is the characterization of a rule as a convention,
or not, that is the issue here. Burge's point is to make allowance for the
possibility of mistake in this respect. As opposed to this, the possibility of a
mistake about the content of the rule is a much more problematic point. It is
quite clear that a conventionalist view on a given realm of human conduct or
system of beliefs entails an anti-realist stance with respect to that realm. 14
Anti-realism, however, necessarily rules out certain forms of mistake. One
cannot hold an anti-realist stance with respect to a given class of statements,
yet at the same time allow for the possibility of comprehensive mistakes
about the truths of those statements. This is a very complex issue, however,
and it cannot be examined within the confines of this essay. 15
I have already mentioned that the emphasis on reasons in the definition
of arbitrariness serves another purpose. Some commentators have rested
their case against Lewis' insistence on the arbitrariness of conventions on a
misunderstanding. On Gilbert's reading, to mention one prominent exam-
ple, arbitrariness implies something like indifference: a rule is arbitrary
if it matters little to the norm subjects whether the rule or its alternative
is chosen. 16 That is, the norm subjects in P are taken to be indifferent
as to the choice between R and R ~, having no preference of one over the
other. This construal of arbitrariness as a defining feature of conventions is
then easily undermined. Surely, many conventions are not arbitrary in this
sense; people might not be indifferent between the convention they follow,
and an alternative convention they could have followed instead. As Gilbert
rightly points out, "people can explicitly search for the most appropriate
convention'q7 in certain circumstances. Nor is arbitrariness a phase-sortal
concept, as it admits of degrees. We can often speak of some rules being
more (or less) arbitrary than others.
Our definition of arbitrariness, however, should suffice to show that
Gilbert is challenging windmills here. Arbitrariness does not imply indif-
ference. It only requires a certain structure of preferences amongst possible
alternatives, conditional upon actual conformity: as long as the reason for
356 ANDREIMARMOR

acting in conformity with the rule, say R, which is actually followed in P

is stronger than the reason for preferring R I over R, the choice is arbitrary
in the requisite sense. That is, even if there are good reasons for preferring
conformity with R over R ~ (or, vice versa). Take a familiar example of
a convention, say, to drive on the left side of the road (in England). The
reason, A, for having this convention and complying with it, consists in the
interests of avoiding collision, etc., The very same reason entails, however,
that if people were actually driving their cars on the right side of the road,
then this latter rule is the one people would have sufficient reason to follow.
Yet this does not exclude the possibility that some, or even most of the
norm subjects would in fact prefer driving on the right; say, for example,
because it is thought to be physically more convenient.
Or, to take a more plausible example, consider the situations where
a telephone conversation is prematurely cut-off. For obvious reasons, it
would be more sensible to have a convention whereby the original caller
is expected to resume the call. Nonetheless, if for some obscure reason
a convention has emerged in P that the receiver of the conversation is
expected to resume the call, then despite the preference of the alternative
rule, people in P would be better off complying with the convention than
not. That is, of course, as long as the reason for having the convention in
the first place is considered more important than the reasons for preferring
the alternative course of action. Thus we can also see why the notion of
arbitrariness admits of degrees: at least in one sense, a convention would
be completely arbitrary, if the parties are indeed indifferent between the
relevant options. It would become less and less arbitrary, as we move
away from complete indifference, up to the point where the preference
of uniform conformity is just slightly stronger than the preference of a
particular option. 18
Arbitrariness, then, is not meant to imply indifference. But it does entail
that the validity of the rule in question is conditional upon its efficacy. This
follows, straightforwardly, from the definition offered above. A rule is a
convention only if the reasons for uniform conformity with one of the
relevant alternatives are held to be stronger than the reasons for preferring
each one of the relevant alternatives. Which is just to say that the fact that
the rule is efficacious forms an essential part of the reasons for complying
with it; the lack of general conformity depletes the convention of its point,
as it were. And equally: a rule cannot be a convention if the reasons for
complying with it are basically independent of the rule's efficacy. This latter
case is the typical structure of reasoning associated with fundamental moral
rules, for example. Despite the interest we have in uniform conformity, our
reasons for having the particular rule in question are normally held to be
 ON CONVENTION 357

more important and fundamental than the reason for uniform conformity.
People who believe that one is morally required to show respect for all
human beings as such, for example, would believe that they have a sufficient
reason to follow this rule even in a society where no such respect is actually
practised.
Gilbert raised some doubts about this account, relying on the following
counter example: suppose that it has been a convention in a given commu-
nity that people should send thank-you notes after being invited to dinner
parties. As it happens, conformity with this convention has dwindled and
presently most people in this community no longer abide by the conven-
tion. Gilbert suggested that this does not mean that there is no longer a
convention in this community to send thank-you notes after being invited
to dinner. The lack of general conformity, she claims, does not necessarily
affect the appropriate characterization of this rule as a convention or not. t9
Now, I suspect that one would tend to reply that what we face here is pre-
cisely what is described: a convention which has dwindled. But the point
is more substantial that this, and for the following reason: sending thank-
you notes after dinner invitations is one alternative way, amongst many
others, of expressing gratitude for the invitation, whether a convention to
that effect exists or not. In other words, expressing gratitude for the invi-
tation is in itself valuable, regardless of conventions, and any reasonable
means of doing that would normally serve the purpose. The existence of
the convention can render it the appropriate way of expressing gratitude
in a certain community, only in one special manner. Namely, in that this is
the way people actually follow and hence expect others to follow as well.
Their expectation makes sense only as conditional on the actual conformi-
ty of others. There would be no point whatsoever in expecting people to
comply with one particular alternative which is, after all, arbitrary, unless
this alternative is actually followed by the community at large.
Once again, such a structure of reasoning is markedly opposed to the
way we think about morality: one can be criticized for not complying
with a moral rule, even if most others in his community fail to comply
as well. One cannot be criticized, however, for failing to comply with a
convention which is not actually practised. People can believe, of course,
that a specific uniformity of action is desirable, even if it is not practised.
Belief in the reasons for the desirability of having a convention in certain
circumstances, however, does not constitute a reason for complying with
it. In other words, 'It ought to be that it ought to be that P ' normally entails
that 'It ought to be that P ' . Whereas, 'It ought to be that it is a convention
that P ' does not entail that 'It is a convention that P ' .
35 8 ANDREIMARMOR

One may wonder, however, whether it is not the case even with respect
to some fundamental moral rules, that their efficacy affects their validity.
The obligation to keep one's promises is an example that immediately
comes to mind here. Suppose we could imagine a certain community where
keeping promises is not practised: expressions of a promise don't engender
an expectation that it may be kept, and promises are not held to impose
obligations on the promisor. Would we say that if promises are not sustained
by practice, the obligation to keep one's promises is not a valid rule? And
if so, would it show that efficacy affects the validity of fundamental moral
rules as well? Or would we rather say that the obligation derives from a
moral rule which is valid, and that in our imaginary community there is
simply no opportunity for complying with it?
The answer would seem to depend on one's views on the nature of
promissory obligations. According to one line of thought, which is some-
times called The Practice Theory, the validity of promissory obligations
derives from a combination of the social practice of promising and a gen-
eral moral duty to uphold valuable practices. On this view, the analysis of
promissory obligations is a two-stage affair. First, there must be a social
practice, which consists in the rules people actually follow, and the expec-
tations, intentions, etc., they associate with those rules. Second, there is a
moral judgement that the practice is valuable, and hence, that there is a
general moral duty (or, perhaps a more specific obligation of Fair Play, as
Rawls maintained,) to sustain and uphold it. According to a different line of
thought, promissory obligations are instances of a more general moral duty
which we owe to other people when we have led them to form expectations
about our future conduct in certain circumstances.2 On this Expectation
Theory of promises, the role of the conventional practice of promising is
much more limited; it consists in providing us with certain conventional
means of expressing a certain type of intentions and creating expectations
about our future conduct. Hence according to the Expectation Theory, in
our imaginary community we would simply lack many opportunities to
undertake promissory obligations in conventionally established ways.
Now, it is true that according to the Practice Theory of promises, the
efficacy of the conventions which constitute the practice would be taken
to affect the validity of promissory obligations. As long as the practice is
largely followed, every one has a reason to comply as well. And if there is
no practice, then there is nothing One would have reason to sustain. But this
only shows that according to the Practice Theory, keeping one's promise
is basically an instance of complying with a convention. Proponents of
the Practice Theory, faced with the imaginary community where promises
are not sustained by practice, would not wish to say that their basic moral
 0NCONVENTION 359

conceptions are in an urgent need of revision. The relevant moral rule,

on this conception, is the obligation to sustain valuable practices; but the
practice in question is a set of conventionally established rules.
Hence we need not adjudicate here between these two theories on the
nature of promises, as both of them are compatible with the view I have
been espousing on the nature of conventions. Both views agree with the
thesis that it is a feature of conventions, but not of moral principles, that
their validity is conditional upon their efficacy. They only disagree on the
appropriate role assigned to conventions in the explication of promissory
obligations.
Finally, it should be emphasized that although the arbitrariness of a given
rule entails that its validity is conditional upon efficacy, these two aspects
of a convention should be kept separate. Some rules yield valid reasons for
action only if they form part of a system of rules (which is both valid and
efficacious). The validity of legal rules is a prominent example: legal rules
are valid, as such, only if they form part of an existing, i.e. efficacious,
legal system. Similarly, there is no point whatsoever in following one rule
of chess, for example, unless it is followed as part of the game; the rules of
chess are sensible only as part of a practice constituted by a system of rules.
Thus there is another sense in which the validity of a rule is conditional
upon efficacy, but this is not something that follows from the arbitrariness
of the rule, as it follows from its system-dependence.

2. GILBERT ON CONVENTION

Although several philosophers have criticized Lewis' analysis of conven-

tion, few have set out to provide a significantly different alternative. Mar-
garet Gilbert's recent work stands out as an exception in this respect.
Alongside numerous criticisms of Lewis' analysis, some of which I have
already mentioned, she also offers a comprehensive alternative account of
social conventions, summarized in the following way:
our everyday concept of a social convention is that of a jointly accepted principle &action,
a group fiat with respect to how one is to act in certain situations . . . . conventions on this
account are essentiallycollectivity-involving:a population that develops a conventionin
this sense becomes by that very fact a collectivity.Further, each party to the convention
will accept that each one personallyought to conform,other things being equal, wherethe
'ought' is understoodto be based on the fact that togethertheyjointly acceptthe principle,zl
Considering Gilbert's alternative, I will argue that it is seriously, but illu-
minatingly, flawed; both in what it lacks as compared with Lewis' analysis,
as well as in some additional features it adds to it. Let me begin with a few
comments on one of these additional features, namely, Gilbert's insistence
360 ANDREI MARMOR

on the collectivity aspect of conventions. In this she is emphatically at odds

with Lewis, whose analysis, she rightly claims, does not require any such
sociological concepts. But is she right to insist on this collectivity aspect of
conventions? Is it an essential feature of social conventions that the parties
to any given convention "become, by that very fact, a collectivity"? Some
conventions, undoubtedly, function in this way; but I will argue that many
others don't.
To begin with, many conventions are almost universal as they cut across
societies and cultures. As far as I know, in most cultures the sign of an
arrow is a conventional means of pointing to a certain direction in space.
This is a straightforward notational convention. Does it make any sense
to suggest that by complying with this convention, all of us become a
collectivity? Or if there is any sense of 'collectivity' in which we do, is it
one which would be of any philosophical (or indeed, sociological) interest?
Hardly so. But it would be a shame if such a paradigmatic example of a
convention should be excluded from the confines of "our everyday concept
of a social convention". 22
Even with respect to much more intimate conventions, however, it
would often be quite wrong to over-emphasize their collectivity aspect.
Consider the following example. Somewhere in the English countryside,
there is a very narrow bridge over a river, built many centuries ago. Since
it is not possible to cross the bridge from the two directions at once, a
convention has evolved that if people approach the bridge from both sides
at once, those who come from the north are to pass first. Since there
are many travellers in this area, the local villagers have put up a small
sign, informing the travellers of this convention. Would we want to say
that all those travellers who comply with the convention, thus become a
collectivity? Must they regard the convention as something uniquely their
own, something that distinguishes 'them' from 'others'? Surely not. After
all, they don't even know who the others are. But the rule is, undoubtedly, a
convention. (The fact that most people learn about its existence by the road
sign does not alter this fact.) Nor would we say that the conventionality of
this rule is somehow diminished by the lack of collectivity. The rule serves
for the local villagers, who are perhaps more intimate with the convention,
the same purpose as it serves for strangers: it simply co-ordinates their
passage over the narrow bridge.
To be sure, I don't want to deny that there are many conventions which
are 'collectivity-involving'; some types of convention are instrumental in
shaping the social cohesion of a certain group of people, and sometimes this
sociological aspect is part of the rationale for maintaining and complying
with such conventions. But Gilbert's suggestion that this is a defining
 ONCONVENTION 361

feature of conventions is clearly not supported by the facts. Why does she
repeatedly affirm the contrary? It is, after all, quite unlikely that Gilbert
has made the simple mistake of generalizing from some cases to all. It is
more likely that her thesis is related to a more fundamental aspect of her
analysis, and it is not difficult to see what it is.
As I have already mentioned, Gilbert has failed to realize that arbitrari-
ness is a conceptually defining feature of conventions, due to her miscon-
strual of what arbitrariness consists in. Having presumed arbitrariness to
mean something like indifference, she has been content to prove that con-
ventions are not arbitrary in this sense. But in this she has already depleted
the concept of a convention of its most important philosophical aspects. 23
From a normative point of view, it is the arbitrary feature of conventions
(properly defined, and not in terms of indifference), that renders social
conventions a peculiar type of rules, calling for an explanation of the kinds
of reason people could have for following a convention. Whether these
reasons consist only in the solution of recurrent co-ordination problems,
as Lewis maintains, or in other possible types of reason as well, remains
to be seen. But unless this normative puzzle is appreciated as such, there is
no hope of accounting for the normativity of conventions. Gilbert's failure
to realize this has led her to an impoverished account of the normativity
of conventions - resting on such notions as 'group fiat' and 'acceptance'
- and hence to her over-emphasis of the collectivity aspect, mentioned
earlier. But these sociological concepts contribute very little, if anything
at all, to an explication of the normativity of conventions, and for several
reasons.
First, it is important to note that Gilbert's account of conventions does
not make any allowance for a distinction between following a convention
and following a generally accepted reason. But it is essential to keep
these two apart. In other words, "a jointly accepted principle of action" is
not necessarily a convention, whether it is, or isn't, essentially collectivity
involving. Suppose it is generally accepted in my college that we should do
certain things to promote women's opportunities in pursuing an academic
career. Suppose that this is a principle we jointly accept; we all accept,
for example, that the college should provide child care facilities, that it
should provide more flexible working hours for women, etc. It is our
college fiat, as it were, to follow these principles of action, and we believe
that this principle entails certain obligations with respect to our actions
in certain circumstances. On Gilbert's account, we would be described as
following a convention here. But this is surely wrong. Our jointly accepted
commitment to enhancing women's opportunities in college would be ill
described as a convention. It is simply a principle of action we have come
362 ANDP,EI MARMOR

to accept because we believe that it is a good thing to do. Such a structure

of reasoning has very little in common with our ordinary notion of a social
convention. The rule we have accepted is not arbitrary, and its validity
does not depend on others' compliance with it. If a college member who
subscribes to this principle was asked for his reasons to follow it, he would
probably make something of a fool of himself by replying that 'I do it
because everybody else does' .24
Perhaps Gilbert would reply that I have missed a point about her con-
dition of joint acceptance. Perhaps what she means here is something like
a conditional acceptance requiring reciprocity: I commit myself to the
principle only if you do, and vice versa. If this latter interpretation is the
correct reading of her thesis, than it would seem to render my example
irrelevant. Maybe so. But then I doubt whether she could afford to have
such a condition of reciprocity built into her analysis of joint acceptance,
and for two main reasons. First, it would seem to be inconsistent with many
of her criticisms of Lewis. She has insisted, for example, that a convention
which has dwindled, and which most people do not comply with any more,
is a binding convention, nevertheless. As she puts it, "social conventions
can exist in the absence of expectations of conformity". 25 But then, how
could one claim that this is a convention people still acceptjointly, in this
reciprocal sense? Evidently, they don't. Secondly, and more important-
ly, the interpretation of joint acceptance in terms of reciprocity is either
indistinguishable from Lewis' analysis of conditional preference Gilbert
is anxious to refute, or else it is simply false. A reciprocal commitment to
a principle of action makes perfect sense if it consists of having a reason
for uniformity of action. Which is to say that the reason for accepting the
principle is conditional upon others' compliance with it. But then again,
this is precisely Lewis' view that Gilbert strives to undermine. Alterna-
tively, reciprocity makes sense as part of the concept of an agreement. But
surely, conventions need not emerge only by agreements, whether explicit
or tacit. Sometimes, of course, people are held to be bound by a convention
because they can be said to have agreed to be so bound, but this is certainly
not true of most conventions and most people. This, I take it, is one of the
least controversial aspects of Lewis' analysis.
The main difficulty in Gilbert's analysis of conventions lies elsewhere,
however. Among the various concepts she employs in order to explain the
normativity of conventions, the key concept seems to be that of accep-
tance. Conventions, on her account, are basically those rules which are
jointly accepted principles of action. But one may well wonder how can
anything like acceptance command the 'ought' which is associated with
conventions. Indeed, it cannot. I take it that whatever social acceptance
 ONCONVENTION 363

means, it basically consists in what people believe, namely, in their belief

that there is a reason for action. For someone to accept a rule, is to believe
that the rule should be followed. But the belief in a reason for action is
never, in itself, a reason for action. 26 My believing that R is a valid reason
for x-ing can form part of a causal explanation of my z-ing; but the belief
is not the reason for z-ing. Belief in a reason for action is an intentional
concept: it relates to something which is the object of the belief, namely,
the reason. Hence the notion of social acceptance can figure, at most, in
a causal explanation of people's behaviour in certain circumstances, but it
cannot provide an account of the reasons for following a convention, or
any other rule, for that matter.
To be sure, I do not want to insist that just about any convention we have
reason to follow has come into existence by a general realization that those
reasons apply. Generally speaking, it is better to leave the account of the
emergence of conventions to sociologists and historians; from a philosoph-
ical perspective, there need not be anything particularly interesting about
the way a convention has come to be practised. Our philosophical interest
should be confined to an account of the normativity of conventions. This is
a question about reasons for action and not a question about the historical
emergence of rules and ideas. 27 The point is, however, that acceptance, and
similar sociological notions that rest on people's actual beliefs, attitudes,
propensities, and the like, cannot, as a matter of logic, provide us with
an account of the reasons for following conventions (or any other type of
rules). Hence the idea that the 'ought' of a convention consists in the fact
that people accept a principle of action is inherently incoherent. 28
What we need, then, is an account of the reasons for following conven-
tions, and this must be an explanation that takes into account the special
features of conventions: namely, their arbitrariness, and the fact that their
validity is conceived to be conditional on efficacy. I now turn to examine
this question directly.

3. TWO TYPES OF CONVENTION

Why, and under what circumstances, does it make sense to follow a rule
which is arbitrary? David Lewis has provided an illuminating answer:
the rationale of following a convention, he claimed, consists in the fact
that conventions are solutions to recurrent co-ordination problems. A co-
ordination problem arises, according to Lewis, 29 when several agents try
to achieve uniformity of action by each doing whatever the others will do.
Thus within a given set of options, each and every agent has a stronger
preference for acting as the other agents will, than his preference of any one
364 ANDREIMARMOR

particular alternative. This clearly explains why it makes sense to follow

a rule which is arbitrary in the sense defined above. General conformity
with a rule that prescribes any one of the arbitrary options available, would
ensure that each agent's preferences are fulfilled.
Few philosophers have doubted that Lewis' answer is at least partly cor-
rect, and in many cases, illuminating. Undeniably, numerous conventions
emerge as solutions to recurrent co-ordination problems, and peoples' rea-
sons to follow such conventions consist in their role in solving the pertinent
co-ordination problem. Doubts arise, however, with respect to the general-
ity of this thesis, 3 and in the rest of this essay I shall strive to substantiate
these doubts. Let me begin by examining a few examples. 31
Rules of etiquette have been mentioned as an example of conventions
which are not explicable along the lines suggested by Lewis. 32 Consider,
for example, the convention of holding one's fork in the left hand. That this
rule is a convention is hardly deniable. (In some cultures, the convention is
to hold the fork in the right hand, and in others, people are not expected to
eat with a fork at all.) But it would be rather awkward to suggest that such
a rule has anything to do with co-ordinating the behaviour of the agents in
question. It is perhaps true, that once the convention is established, many
people would prefer to behave just as others do, since their preference for
social conformity is stronger than their particular preference for holding
the fork in their right or left hand. But such a structure of preferences could
only explain why people comply with an existing convention; it cannot
explain how it makes sense to have such a convention in the first place.
Would there be any problem of co-ordination between diners had there
not been any rule regarding the hand in which one should hold the fork?
Hardly so.
The rules of games, provide, I believe, a more interesting example.
Again, rules of games, like chess, football, patience, etc., are, undoubtedly,
paradigmatic examples of conventions. But they are not there to solve co-
ordination problems. Of course, once the rules are there, and followed, they
may give rise to some co-ordination problems which might then get settled
by additional conventions. But the suggestion that the constitutive rules of a
game are solutions to co-ordination problems is wrong. One simply cannot
maintain that a set of rules is designed to solve a co-ordination problem,
if it is impossible to describe the particular co-ordination problem, and
the agents' structure of preferences, antecedently to the description of the
rules. But this cannot be done with respect to games. Antecedently to the
existence of chess, for example, as a particular game people can indulge in,
there was no problem to solve. Well, there might have been, say, a desire for
a quiet, intellectual, competitive game. But this can hardly count as a co-
 ON CONVENTION 36 5

ordination problem. Partly, because it is not what we would call a problem

in the pertinent sense. Mainly, however, because 'the problem', and the
agents' structure of preferences are far too abstract and indeterminate to
count as a co-ordination problem.
The idea that the rules of games are not solutions to co- ordination prob-
lems can also be seen by considering single-person games, like patience,
for example. How can a co-ordination problem arise with respect to the
actions of a single agent done in isolation and without regard to the actions
of others? The prevalence of such single-person games forces Lewis into
holding either one of two uncomfortable positions. One option for him is
to maintain that such single-person games are substantially different from
multi-players' games. But what the difference is, and why would it be of
such great significance, would seem to be quite a mystery. After all, games
like patience and chess share all the relevant features of games, but for the
fact that the former is played by a single person with himself, as it were.
Both are instances of following conventions; both involve winning and los-
ing, as defined by those rules; and both involve similar types of rule, like
the rules determining permissible moves in the game, rules prescribing the
continuation of the game, etc. Thus, any attempt to draw a sharp distinction
here would seem to be far too ad hoe.
Alternatively, Lewis could claim that such single-person games involve
co-ordination problems not between agents, but between the actions of
the same agent across time. 33 But this time-slice picture of co-ordination
cannot be right. After all, the uniqueness of co-ordination problems stems
from the presumed ignorance of each agent of the other agents' actions; no
such ignorance is present, however, in the case of a single agent regarding
his own past behaviour.
Finally, if another example is needed, consider the numerous rules
which determine artistic styles and genres. Perhaps not all genre defining
rules are conventions. I assume that many artists believe that some of the
rules of the genres they adhere to manifest objective truths, and I need not
argue with that. But many genre defining rules are, undeniably, conventions.
Yet again, such conventions would be ill described as solutions to recurrent
co-ordination problems. There is no need of a detailed demonstration of
this, as I believe that the analogy with games is clear enough.
If the solution of co-ordination problems does not serve to explain the
normativity of conventions of the types I have mentioned here, what does?
In order to answer this question, we must first draw a clear distinction
between reasons for having a convention in the first place, and reasons
for complying with an existing convention. Although the two are often
identical, sometimes they are not. The solution of recurrent co-ordination
366 AND~I MARMOR

problems is one prevalent type of reason for having a convention, and it

normally also serves as a reason for complying with the convention once
it is practised. We face many conventions, however, which we may have
reasons to comply with, although there are no particular reasons for having
the convention in the first place. Many rules of etiquette, for example, are of
this nature. They have emerged for a whole number of, sometimes obscure,
socio-historical reasons, some of them with little, if any, significance for us
today. Nevertheless, many people think that they have a reason to comply
with such conventions. Some of them, perhaps, because they have an
unreflective preference of social conformity; others, however, because they
believe that compliance with such conventions is instrumental in enhancing
their social solidarity with the group they belong to. Consider, for example,
the convention in John's college that men should wear bow-ties for college
dinners. John may well believe, and perhaps rightly so, that there is no
point whatsoever in having such a convention in the first place; it serves no
particular purpose which John regards as valuable in itself. Nevertheless,
John may have a good reason for complying with the convention, given that
it is practised, and even if he is not just an unreflective conformist. He would
reflect on the fact that his compliance with the convention strengthens his
sense of 'belonging', as it were; it enhances his solidarity with his fellow
college members, and with the institution itself. As John regards such
manifestations of solidarity and social cohesion valuable, he may well
conclude that he has a good reason to comply with the rule. Generally
speaking, then, we can have a reason to comply with a convention, even if
there are no particular reasons for having the convention in the fist place.
Finally, we must account for those conventions we have good reasons
to have despite the fact that they are not explicable in terms of solutions
of co-ordination problems. As I have already noted, it is a necessary fea-
ture of co-ordination conventions that the point of having the convention
should be identifiable independently and antecedently of the conventions
themselves. Yet the examples I have mentioned earlier show that many
familiar practices are autonomous in this respect: Namely, that they are not
determined by any particular purpose which is external to the conventions
constituting the practice. Consequently, in these cases it is the practice
itself which provides its own point, as it were, and its own standards of
evaluation. Rules of games, artistic genres, conventions of fashion, and
perhaps certain rules of etiquette, to mention but a few, are examples of
conventions constituting autonomous practices. These are practices whose
purpose, point, or value, is basically set by the conventions constituting the
practice, and it is impossible to specify them independently and antecedent-
ly of the conventions themselves. Consider the conventions of games, for
 ONCONVENTION 367

example. A whole set of conventions determines what, say, a game of chess

is. These conventions are essential in rendering our evaluative judgments
about chess intelligible. They enable us to judge one move as a good or bad
one, or a certain chess player as superior to another, etc. Yet quite clearly,
it is the practice itself which sets its own point, and its own standards of
appraisal, not vice versa. It would be absurd to suggest that evaluative
judgments about chess could be made independently of, and antecedently
to the existence of the conventional practice, as if we could first have an
idea of the point of playing chess and the values inherent in it, before such
games ever existed. 34 In other words, games such as chess, are practices of
autonomous value. The conventions constituting the practice are not there
to solve any particular problem that can be specified independently of the
content of the conventions themselves.
It is important to note, however, that even autonomous practices are
often related to certain values which are independent of the conventions
constituting the particular practice. But their autonomy consists in the
fact that the conventions constituting the practice are radically under-
determined by those general concerns and values. The game of chess, for
instance, involves our general concept of winning and losing. But such
general values, even if they can be specified independently of particular
conventions (which is far from clear), do not determine any particular
standard of winning and losing that the game of chess is there to settle,
as it were. There is, after all, an indefinite number of games and other
practices which instantiate such a general value of winning and losing.
Only once the game is actually established can we say what constitutes the
specific values and standards it sets. It is possible, then, that the autonomy
of practices in this sense is a matter of degree: some practices, like games
for instance, are more autonomous than others, say operas, in that they are
more remote from general, non-conventional concerns they instantiate.
All this should not be taken to suggest that autonomous practices are
constituted by conventions we have no particular reason to have. On the
contrary: it is the main reason for having such conventions that they estab-
lish the practices they do, since the existence of such practices is held to be
intrinsically valuable. Hence the validity of such conventions derives from
the values which are inherent in the practices they constitute. The point is,
however, that these values cannot be specified independently of the con-
ventions themselves, and hence the normativity of such conventions is not
explicable along the lines suggested by Lewis. In order to account for the
normativity of conventions constituting autonomous practices, one would
need an account of the intrinsic values such practices can be taken to have
established. Perhaps it is a puzzling feature of conventions that they can be
 368 ANDREIMARMOR

constitutive of values and reasons for action, but this is a fact we have to
account for and it should not be obscured by philosophers' preoccupation
with co-ordination conventions.

4. SUMMARY

If my main criticism of Lewis is sound, we must conclude that there are

at least two distinct types of convention: co-ordination conventions and
conventions constituting autonomous practices. It is only possible in the
case of the former, but not the latter, to specify the agents' structure of
preferences, and the problem the convention is there to solve, antecedently
and independently of the content of the conventions themselves. Conven-
tions constituting an autonomous practice are constitutive of the point
of, and the values inherent in the practice itself and hence they are not
explicable in terms of solutions to co-ordination problems. Thus, from the
vantage point of practical reasoning, Lewis' theory of conventions is partial
and limited. It is superior, however, to the alternative offered by Gilbert,
as it provides a good answer, albeit limited in scope, to the question of
the normativity of conventions. Gilbert's analysis is more fundamentally
flawed. She has failed to undermine Lewis' insight that conventions are
arbitrary rules, due to her misconstrual of what arbitrariness consists in.
Consequently, Gilbert's analysis of the normativity of social conventions
in terms of 'joint acceptance' is doubly inadequate: it fails to distinguish
conventions from many other types of rule people follow, and it fails to
answer the question of the normativity of conventions in terms of reasons
for action.
In the course of this discussion, I have side-stepped all the difficult
questions concerning the conventionality of language, judging them to be
far too complex issues to be dealt with within the confines of this article. I do
hope, however, that an awareness of the distinction between co-ordination
conventions and conventions of autonomous practices, will facilitate the
arguments over the conventionality of language as well.

NOTES

I I am indebted to Timothy Williamson and Joseph Raz with whom I have discussedthese
matters at length, and I am grateful for their invaluable comments on a draft of this paper.
I am also indebted to Brian Bix, Ruth Gavison, Alon Harel, Edna Ullmann-Margalit, and
the editors of Synthese for their helpful comments and suggestions.
2 Conventions ought to be distinguished here from rules which are designed to solve
'prisoner's dilemma' conflicts. In the latter case too, but for different reasons, efficacyis
 ONCONVENTION 369

essential in rendering the norm valid. Throughout this article, however, I shall assume that
conventions and PD norms are clearly distinguishable, and I shall not be concerned with the
latter. For a detailed account of the distinction see Ullmann-Margalit(1977, pp. 114-121).
3 See Lewis (1969, p. 78). A revised version &his definition was later published in Lewis
(1975).
4 See, for example, Grandy (1974), Postema (1982), Schiffer (1972, p. 152), and Ullmann-
Margalit (1977, p. 74ff).
5 Similar suspicions, and for very similar reasons, I share with respect to the preoccupation of
writers on the topic with game-theoretical analyses. The predominance of game-theoretical
analysis of conventions has not only engendered these idle definitional projects, as it tended
to over-emphasize some aspects of the topic, on the expense of many others. In any case, I
shall not be concerned here with game theories at all.
6 As Wittgenstein famously has shown, not all the concepts we use have a defining feature.
'Family resemblance' concepts "have no one thing in common which makes us use the
same word for all" its applications (Wittgenstein 1953, section 65).
7 Wittgenstein (1967, section 144).
s The relevant part of Lewis' definition reads as follows: "There is at least one alternative
R' such that the belief that the others conformed to R' would give everyone a good and
decisive practical or epistemic reason to conform to R' likewise; such that there is a general
preference for general conformity to R' rather than slightly-less-than-general conformity
to R'; and such that there is normally no way of conforming to R and R' both'. And, the
condition above, among others, is a 'matter of common (or mutual) knowledge..." Lewis
(1975, pp. 5-6).
9 I do not wish to deny that conventions can provide reasons for belief. On the contrary, I
believe that with suitable modifications, the account which follows should be applicable to
conventional belief systems as well.
10 Lewis (1969, pp. 104-105).
l J Lewis' failure to realize this point has been the cause of some confusion in the critical
literature that ensued. For example, his repeated emphasis on regularities of behaviour in
his definition of convention, gave rise to the criticism that conventions don't necessarily
involve situations which occur with frequency. See Gilbert (1989, pp. 344-345). But upon
noticing the fact that conventions are necessarily rules, the criticism is rendered spurious.
The idea of following a rule does not involve any requirement of frequency. For a further
account of the distinction between rules and regularities of behaviour, see Marmor (1992,
pp. 41-42).
12 See Burge (1975). Notably, Lewis himself was not unaware of the problem raised by
Burge, but seems to have ignored its implications. See Lewis (1969, p. 75).
13 Burge (1975, p. 250).
14 The opposite, of course, is not the case; it is not the case that each and every anti-realist
stance with respect to a given class of statements entails conventionalism with respect
to that class of statements. One can deny the possibility of realism with respect to the
characterization of morality, for example, without being committed to the view that moral
prescriptions are conventions. In other words, it makes perfect sense to hold the following
two theses concomitantly: that fundamental moral rules are not conventions; and that there
is no such a thing as an 'objective' moral reality. Those who maintain that moral truth
is always discoverable by reason, need not necessarily choose between endorsing either
realism or conventionalism; they can reject them both.
is For a discussion of some of the complexities involved here, see Marmor (1992, pp.
86-97).
 370 ANDREI MARMOR

16 Gilbert (1989, pp. 340-341).

17 Gilbert (1989, pp. 340-341).
18 Cf. Lewis' discussion of imperfect conventions (1969, pp. 76-80), and Postema (1982,
p. 175),
19 Gilbert (1989, p. 437).
2o The differences between these two attitudes are set out nicely in Scanlon (1990). Scanlon
himself espouses an interesting version of the Expectation Theory. The Practice Theory is
advocated by Rawls (1971, pp. 344-350). Many others have taken one side or another on
this controversy and I couldn't possibly list them all. Perhaps Raz's 'Promises and Oblig-
ations' (1977), does not fit any of these theories, but it is not at odds with my arguments
here.
21 Gilbert (1989, p. 377). It is important to note that Gilbert's conception of a 'social
convention', which is the subject of this account, is deliberately more limited than Lewis'.
Part of her criticism of Lewis consists in a series of arguments designed to show that social
conventions ought to be distinguished from linguistic conventions (see Gilbert 1989, pp.
363ff; and pp. 385f0. This aspect of Gilbert's arguments, and Lewis' own stance on the
conventionality of language, raise difficult issues which exceed the scope of this article.
Consequently, I shall concentrate on Gilbert's conception of a social convention, leaving
the questions concerning the conventionality of language for a separate occasion.
22 Alternatively, one may say that the arrow convention is not one convention universally
employed, as it might be the case that each and every community has its own convention, as
it were, and these many conventions happen to coincide. But then, one would face enormous
difficulties in any attempt to identify the relevant communities, and that, in itself, would
cast a serious doubt on the collectivity thesis.
23 Note that to the extent that at least in one important sense, conventionalism in philosophy
is closely tied to the notion of a convention, it is thus connected due to the account of
arbitrariness offered above. Gilbert's analysis, failing to realize this, has left her without
any account of the connections between conventions, as a social phenomena, and conven-
tionalism, as a philosophical stance.
24Cf. Raz (1975, pp. 53-56), for a similar criticism of H.L.A. Hart's practice theory of
norms.
25 Gilbert (1989, p. 348).
26 Cf. Raz (1975, pp. 55--58).
27 Some of the confusion here can be traced back to Lewis himself, particularly his fail-
ure to distinguish between motivational and critical reasons in his modified definition of
conventions. See Burge (1975, p. 252). I suspect that some of the confusions surrounding
the precise role of salience in the solution of co-ordination problems arises out of a failure
to keep the question of the normativity of conventions separate from the question of their
emergence. Cf. Gilbert (1990) and Miller (1990).
28Needless to add, the suggestion that this acceptance is "essentially collectivity-involving"
- even if it was correct cannot alter this logical point.
29 Lewis (1969, pp. 5--24).
30 It is a separate question, that I shall not discuss here, whether all co-ordination problems
which are pertinent to the emergence of conventions can be subjected to the game-theoretical
analysis offered by Lewis. See for example, Gilbert (1990) and Miller (1990).
31 This general line of criticism is not novel, of course. Several philosophers, apart from
Gilbert, have sought to demonstrate that there are conventions which are not explicable in
terms of solutions to recurrent co-ordination problems. See for example: Sehiffer (1972,
 ONCONVENTION 371

pp. 152ff); Jamieson (1975); and Burge (1975), (whose criticism, though, seems to be more
limited).
32 Schiffer (1972, p. 152).
33 In fact, he did claim something like this in a similar context, see Lewis (1975, pp. 26-27).
34 On the absurdities of Platonism in such a context, see Raz (1991, p. 91).

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Faculty of Law
Tel-Aviv University
Remat Aviv
Tel Aviv 69978
Israel