Mr. Holley Points us Toward an Interesting Paradox

Thank you, Doug, for sharing an excellent reflection on your engagement with Wittgenstein. One point in particular brought to mind a paradox of sorts in Wittgenstein’s philosophical practice – a paradox that is reminiscent of the paradox of the Tractatus (which is a text full of things that cannot be said) but that we never discussed in class.

The paradox arises as follows: As you note, his investigations are “intended to describe the various sorts of problems that arise when language is actually in use.” There are two ways in which this can be taken. In one sense, yes: the text is intended to describe the various sorts of problems that arise when we attempt to explain how language works – and explaining how language works is one way that we can use language. In another sense, however, Wittgenstein seems to say ‘no’: he gives primacy to a supposed ‘ordinary use’ that our words have and he treats philosophical explanations of those uses as themselves illegitimate in some way. Thus, he writes the following in the metaphilosophical sections:

§116: “What we do is to bring words back from their metaphysical to their everyday use.”

§120: “When I talk about language (words, sentences, etc.) I must speak the language of every day.”

§124: “Philosophy may in no way interfere with the actual use of language; it can in the end only describe it.”

The paradox here is that philosophers use language, but they do so in order to explain more ordinary uses of language, and it’s the way that they (philosophers) use language that causes the confusion. The paradox would then be this:

(A) The meaning of a word is its use.

(B) The use of a word clouds its meaning.

However, Wittgenstein seems to be claiming that (B) only seems true because of the misuse that philosophers make of words (as a result of grammatical error). However, misuse does not count as use; rather, ‘use’ means (for Wittgenstein) the norm that governs the use of the word; philosophers violate these words and thus cloud the meaningfulness of language. Thus, (B) is not true; it’s the misuse of language that clouds meaning, and Wittgenstein is investigating how these philosophical misuses arise.

Still, I do believe that Wittgenstein believes that this philosophical confusion has a ‘trickle down’ effect and so comes to infiltrate ordinary use of language. However, if this is so, the trick is to determine what ordinary uses (such as our tendency to refer to things in the mind) are in fact philosophically based corruptions and what uses are in fact the bedrock (cf. §217) that makes communication possible.

Guest Post from Doug Holley, a Former Student

Dear Fellow Scholars,

Dr. Armstrong has asked me to write a short reflection on my experiences reading Wittgenstein’s Philosophical Investigations. As I am well aware that assigned readings tend to pile up around this time of the semester, I will attempt to make a brief commentary that is well worth your invested time. Hopefully, you will find these words edifying and encouraging as you complete your own reading in these final weeks of this term.

I first read Philosophical Investigations as part of an independent study in the Spring of 2010. In the beginning, I struggled with the text; I stubbornly clung to my expectation that Wittgenstein would not only lay bare the problems and limitations of language, but that he would also offer a simple and easy answer to all of the questions that he poses. I also made the mistake of focusing too closely on any one particular word or passage—thinking that I would find some clever trick or turn in the wording that would make the entire work clear to me. As a result of my expectation that the Investigations would yield an exact answer to an exact question, my attempts to make sense of the text often ended in the frustrated “engine idling” that Wittgenstein refers to in §88 and §132. In short, I was too distracted by my own expectations to see that the author clearly states, throughout the text, that his investigation is not intended to solve any one particular problem so much as it is intended to describe the various sorts of problems that arise when language is actually in use.

My first breakthroughs in understanding came when I began to consciously remind myself, as I read, that one cannot point to any section of Philosophical Investigations and say, “This is what the whole book means.” The text became far more accessible when I began to apply the rope metaphor from §67: the strength and significance of Wittgenstein’s work is not to be found in one particular part—nor should the reader expect that one string of ideas from one section exactly corresponds to the series of examples the author provides in a different section. Rather, the work must be considered in its entirety, so that the various sections—even those that may seem confusing or contradictory—are seen as intertwined parts of a greater whole. When I stopped looking for the details that made one section different from another, I was able to see the familial resemblance that was consistent throughout. Thus, an understanding of one image or example can inform a greater understanding of another image or example and, over time, as this process is repeated, the whole work begins to make more sense.

Reading Wittgenstein isn’t easy. However, we know from experience that very few worthwhile pursuits begin without some difficulty. Consider your most prized skill or talent—how much effort have you expended to hone that skill or develop that talent? How many hours have you spent in rehearsals, running drills, practicing at home or in the gym, just to become a little better at the thing that you do best? Now, think back to the first bit of Wittgenstein that you ever read. My guess is that, after becoming more acquainted with the author’s style and the sorts of observations that he is attempting to make, that first passage seems far less overwhelming than it did the first time that you read it. Through practice and perseverance, you have become more aware of the subtleties of Wittgenstein’s rhetorical strategies and, as a result, you have probably become more articulate in your attempts to speak or write about the texts that you’ve studied. If you have not yet reached a point in your studies where you feel confident in your understanding of the whole text, begin looking for the connections between the sections that seem most clear to you. As you continue to read—thoughtfully and critically—you will approach that “Eureka!” moment, when the pieces become more clearly contextualized within the larger body of work. Then, you will be able to say, “now I can go on.” Until then, keep reading and keep thinking.

I wish you all the best of luck in the coming weeks.

Sincerely,

Doug Holley