J.L. Austin, answered from the texts and cited to the page.
The key observation is this: there is a class of utterances which, on the surface, look perfectly like ordinary statements of fact — they have humdrum verbs in the first person singular present indicative active, they contain none of the verbal danger-signals philosophers have learned to watch for — and yet they neither describe nor report anything at all, and are not true or false.1
Take the examples that make this vivid. When the registrar hears "I do," he is not receiving a report on a marriage already in progress; the utterance is the marriage, or at any rate a central part of it.2 When the bottle strikes the hull and I say "I name this ship the Queen Elizabeth," I have not described a christening — I have performed one.3
The same goes for "I bet you sixpence it will rain tomorrow" and "I give and bequeath my watch to my brother" in a will: in each case, to utter the sentence in the appropriate circumstances is to do the thing, not to say that one is doing it.4 I call these performative utterances — an ugly word and a new one, but there seems to be nothing in existing use wide enough to cover them all.5
The lawyers' term operative comes nearest: lawyers distinguish between the preamble of a legal instrument, which recites the circumstances, and the operative clauses, which actually effect the transaction.6 "I give and bequeath my watch to my brother" is precisely that kind of clause. But "operative" carries too many other meanings to serve without confusion, so I have preferred a term to which we are less likely to attach preconceived baggage.
Now, one objection presents itself immediately: does this not amount to saying that marrying is simply saying a few words? It sounds flippant.7 But the words must be said in the appropriate circumstances — that qualification is not a footnote but load-bearing — and what we must not suppose is that what is additionally required, beyond the saying, is the performance of some inward spiritual act of which the words are then the outward report.8
The temptation to think this way is real, especially with portentous cases like promising. Euripides' Hippolytus claimed that his tongue swore but his heart did not — invoking some backstage artiste to exempt him from the commitment his words had made.9 The trouble with that manoeuvre is transparent: if utterances of this kind are reports, true or false, of inward acts, then we have opened a loophole to perjurers, welshers, and bigamists, and the old saying that our word is our bond loses its grip.10
Performatives, then, are not true or false. But they are not immune from all criticism: they can fail to come off, and fail in characteristic ways. These failures I call infelicities — the utterance is unhappy when certain conditions are not met.11 Most obviously, the conventional procedure one is purporting to invoke must actually exist; and it must be executed correctly and completely.12
A great many of the things we do are, at least in part, conventional in this sense — philosophers are too apt to assume that an action is always, in the last resort, a physical movement, whereas convention is usually doing a substantial part of the work.13
they do not 'describe' or 'report' or constate anything at all, are not 'true or false'; and B. the uttering of the sentence is, or is a part of, the doing of an action, which again would not normally be described as saying something.How to Do Things with Words, pp. 11–12
When I say, before the registrar or altar, &c., 'I do', I am not reporting on a marriage: I am indulging in it.How to Do Things with Words, pp. 13–14
When I say 'I name this ship the Queen Elizabeth' I do not describe the christening ceremony, I actually perform the christening.Philosophical Papers, pp. 241–242
it seems clear that to utter the sentence (in, of course, the appropriate circumstances) is not to describe my doing of what I should be said in so uttering to be doing or to state that I am doing it: it is to do it.How to Do Things with Words, pp. 13–14
I propose to call it a performative sentence or a performative utterance, or, for short, 'a performative'... it indicates that the issuing of the utterance is the performing of an action—it is not normally thought of as just saying something.How to Do Things with Words, pp. 13–14
Lawyers when talking about legal instruments will distinguish between the preamble, which recites the circumstances in which a transaction is effected, and on the other hand the operative part—the part of it which actually performs the legal act which it is the purpose of the instrument to perform.Philosophical Papers, pp. 241–242
Such a doctrine sounds odd or even flippant at first, but with sufficient safeguards it may become not odd at all.How to Do Things with Words, pp. 13–14
the one thing we must not suppose is that what is needed in addition to the saying of the words in such cases is the performance of some internal spiritual act, of which the words then are to be the report.Philosophical Papers, pp. 241–242
There is the case of Euripides' Hippolytus, who said 'My tongue swore to, but my heart did not'—perhaps it should be 'mind' or 'spirit' rather than 'heart', but at any rate some kind of backstage artiste.Philosophical Papers, pp. 242–243
if we slip into thinking that such utterances are reports, true or false, of the performance of inward and spiritual acts, we open a loophole to perjurers and welshers and bigamists and so on... It is better, perhaps, to stick to the old saying that our word is our bond.Philosophical Papers, pp. 242–243
The various ways in which a performative utterance may be unsatisfactory we call, for the sake of a name, the infelicities; and an infelicity arises—that is to say, the utterance is unhappy—if certain rules, transparently simple rules, are broken.Philosophical Papers, pp. 242–243
it is obvious that the conventional procedure which by our utterance we are purporting to use must actually exist.Philosophical Papers, pp. 242–243
Philosophers at least are too apt to assume that an action is always in the last resort the making of a physical movement, whereas it's usually, at least in part, a matter of convention.Philosophical Papers, pp. 242–243