Without a theory of concepts as a foundation, one cannot, in reason, adopt any theory about the nature or kinds of propositions: propositions are only combinations of concepts. [IOTE, 97]
This view is manifestly false. Indeed, it's so palpably erroneous that one wonders why Rand adopted it. Perhaps she considered it necessary to nip the horrors of linguistic analysis in the bud. If so, she chose a cure that was worse than the disease.
That propositions are more than just combinations of concepts can be observed from how propositions affect and even create meaning. The meaning of words (which for Rand symbolize concepts) changes depending on how they are used in propositions. And many words have no meaning at all if used by themselves. Objectivists seem to be guilty of the fallacy that, merely because each word has a dictionary meaning, that words (and by implication concepts) mean something when used outside of propositions. However, most words convey no meaning when not used in a proposition.
Assume that a stranger shouted at you "Broccoli!" Would you have any idea what he meant? You would not. If instead he shouted "I like broccoli" or "I hate broccoli" you would know immediately what he meant. But the word by itself, unless used as an answer to a question (e.g., "What vegetable would you like?"), conveys no meaning
Some words do convey meanings by themselves, such as "Help!" "Damn!" and "Idiot!" These words convey meaning because we assume "help" means "I need help," "Damn" means "I'm frustrated," and "Idiot!" means "You are an idiot." These words imply propositions, which convey meaning. If they did not imply a readily understood proposition, these words, when uttered by themselves, would be as meaningless as utterances of "Broccoli" or "Triceps." To convey meaning you have to say something about an idea, or express an emotion, or attempt to attract attention.
Propositions affect meanings of the words. A proposition is simply not the sum of its meanings. How words are combined, the syntax of the sentence, affects individual meanings. Consider the following propositions.
- Scientologists hate cats.
- Cats hate scientologists.
- Scientologists hate the cat.
- Scientologists hate a cat.
Propositions 1 and 2 use the exact same words, yet they don't mean the same thing. How words are combined is at least as important as the words themselves. Yet there is more to it than that. The meaning of these sentences is also affected by the overall context in which they are used and even by the tone in which they are expressed. Note as well how the meanings of the words are altered by adding the and a in propositions 3 and 4.
Yet this is not all. The meanings are affected by the context in which the propositions are expressed. If a stranger came up to you and said "I hate the cat," you wouldn't be sure what specific cat he might be referring to. But if you knew the person had a cat named Felix and assumed that the phrase "the cat" meant Felix, then you would know "precisely" what was meant by "the cat." Note, however, that the precision derives, not from a clearer definition of the terms the or cat, but from greater information of the context in which the phrase is uttered. Knowledge derives from knowledge about things, not from "knowledge" about the meanings of words. Words merely express and communicate claims about matters of fact. They are not facts in and of themselves.
As I have repeatedly emphasized, words have no meaning independent of the meanings those who use them wish to convey. Therefore, there is no such thing as "true" meaning: there is only the meaning than a given individual is attempting to express. That meaning might be well or ill expressed; but the point is to try to understand what a person actually means, rather than merely interpreting (or, rather, misinterpreting) the words they use. We want to know, not what words mean, but what people mean by the words they use. This is an important distinction that Rand refused to grasp.
Suppose two individuals, Peter and Paul, both announce, "I hate cats." Do the words mean the same thing in both instances? Not necessarily. Let us suppose Peter enjoys torturing, dismembering, and butchering cats. Paul, on the other hand, owns a couple of cats and generally treats cats well. This being the case, can we conclude that Peter and Paul mean the exact same thing by the words I hate cats?
Obviously not. We have every reason to believe that Peter is telling the literal truth. Paul, however, is either lying or he is being sarcastic. He might really mean, "I like cats, but sometimes they get on my nerves." Much would depend on how Paul enunciates the phrase I hate cats. If he speaks in a tone that's clearly sarcastic, it will be obvious that he doesn't really hate cats. A proposition can mean something entirely different, perhaps even opposite of the literal meaning of the words, depending on the tone with which the words are enunciated.
Hence, Peikoff's statement is not true. Propositions are much more than a mere combination of concepts. Propositions mean whatever they're meant to mean by those who use them. They are attempts at expression. There is no relevant meaning independent, or contrary to, this intended meaning.