Philosophy and Philosophers - an Introduction to Western Philosophy - Chapter 11
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CHAPTER ELEVEN
Linguistic philosophy: Wittgenstein
After the publication of the Tractatus logico-philosophicus in 1921,
Wittgenstein abandoned philosophy because he thought that the
Tractatus gave a definitive solution to all the problems of philosophy.
During the following years, however, owing to various influences,
including conversations with other philosophers, he came to think that
the Tractatus was seriously flawed. This led not merely to an attempt to
rectify the faults in the position expounded in the Tractatus in a
piecemeal fashion, but eventually to the development of a new
philosophical outlook. Wittgenstein returned in 1929 to Cambridge
where he taught and wrote copiously; but no work other than the
Tractatus was published in his lifetime apart from a short article which
he almost immediately repudiated. However, soon after Wittgenstein’s
death in 1951, a work appeared that he had been preparing for
publication, the Philosophical investigations; and it is this that contains
the most considered and polished statement of his later thought.
There are, however, some common concerns and connections
between the earlier and later philosophies. The most obvious of these
are the concern with language, the drawing of linguistic boundaries,
and the idea that we are led into philosophy and philosophical
problems through misunderstanding the nature of language. We
should not “solve” the problems of philosophy in their stated form, or
on their face value, but should first see whether the problems are a
result of our being fundamentally misled by language. Wittgenstein
wishes to jolt us out of the traditional way of approaching
philosophical problems, not so as to provide yet more in the way of
“solutions”, but so that we may look at the problems themselves in a
manner whereby we see why they do not require such “solutions”.
Much philosophy rests on a confusion about the way language
acquires its meaning, and many philosophical problems are really
pseudo-problems or are misconceived.
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Wittgenstein also opposes the idea that philosophy is a kind of
super-science in either its methods or its problems. He objects to the
picture of philosophy as being just like science except for the fact that
it pushes the search for explanations and justifications deeper,
presenting philosophical theories and hypotheses. If we examine
carefully the matters discussed in philosophy, we will discover
something peculiar and illegitimate about them, and in the later
philosophy this will be manifest chiefly in comparing the use of
language in philosophy with other uses.
In the Tractatus philosophical or metaphysical propositions are ruled
out all at once in virtue of their involving meaningless linguistic signs.
Since philosophical propositions do not conform to what is essential to
a proposition being meaningful, they cannot be meaningful. There is
an essential way that propositions are meaningful: it is supposed that
propositions are meaningful because of something they all have in
common; that is, if, and only if, certain conditions are met can a
linguistic expression or sign be said to be meaningful. There are
necessary and sufficient conditions that any linguistic expression must
satisfy if it is to be meaningful; if it fails to satisfy these conditions,
then a putative linguistic expression or proposition is meaningless. The
essential condition for meaningfulness given in the Tractatus is the
picturing relation with the world: a genuine proposition is an
arrangement of names that pictures a possible fact and is ultimately
constituted out of names whose meanings are the objects they stand
for in the world. That the propositions of philosophy do not satisfy the
essential condition means that philosophy and its “problems” are
disposed of in one blow as meaningless.
The Philosophical investigations involves a very important shift in
approach. If anything binds together the later philosophy, it is antiessentialism.
Essentialism amounts to the view that the reason for
regarding a group of distinct things as of the same kind is that they
have a distinguishing set of features shared by all and only members of
that group. Thus we might define an “automobile” as “a self-propelled
vehicle suitable for use on a street or roadway”. Wittgenstein opposes
essentialism generally, and in particular in the attempt to demonstrate
that there must be some single way that all instances of meaningful
language ultimately have their meaning, which therefore explains or
accounts for the meaningfulness of the whole of language. There is no
essential feature in virtue of which all language is meaningful. The key
to the later philosophy is perhaps the attack on essentialism in general,
and about meaning in particular. One attempt to give an account of the
essence of language—that language consists ultimately of names of
objects—is given in the Tractatus itself. A part of language may consist
of names of objects, but it is not the essence—defining common
feature—of all language.
The anti-essentialism of the Philosophical investigations has farWittgenstein
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reaching consequences. It may seem that in rejecting the view that
language has an essential way of being meaningful Wittgenstein is
giving up all hope of disposing of philosophical problems in virtue of
their expression being meaningless. In a sense this is true, although an
expression might be meaningless in virtue of not being meaningful in
any of the different ways it might be meaningful. However, antiessentialism
cuts both ways: it has the consequence that there is no
way of dismissing philosophical expressions as wholly meaningless
because they do not satisfy what is essential for meaningfulness, but it
also has the consequence that because there is no single universal way
that expressions are meaningful, there is no way of claiming that
philosophy concerns itself with the one true, correct, or real meaning
of expressions as opposed to the vagaries of their meaning outside
philosophy—for example, their ordinary meaning. That there is no
single universal criterion for meaningfulness suggests that all
philosophical talk cannot be dismissed as wholly meaningless; but it
also entails that there is no universal hidden, but perhaps discoverable,
standard of meaningfulness in virtue of which one meaning could be
picked out as the true meaning which takes precedence over other
meanings in other contexts.
It is important to bear in mind the revolutionary nature of
Wittgenstein’s later thought. The attempt to fit his later thought into
the philosophical tradition will result only in distortion and
fundamental misunderstanding. There is a great temptation to take
Wittgenstein as presenting new solutions and theories for traditional
philosophical puzzles; but if we do this we misunderstand what he is
about, and come away with a diminished view of his achievement
because, viewed as traditional philosophy, what he says may seem
deeply unsatisfactory and even beside the point. The later work offers
ways of stopping before we begin to step on the road that leads to the
traditional problems of philosophy by revealing something about how
language acquires its meaning. If this is to be consistent it must avoid
philosophizing as it is traditionally thought of. For this reason some
have said that in his later thought Wittgenstein is not doing
philosophy at all; indeed, Wittgenstein says that his philosophy is “one
of the heirs of the subject which used to be called ‘philosophy’”. The
point is that it is possible to talk about philosophy without doing
philosophy in the traditional sense.
Wittgenstein is adamant that he is not putting forward
philosophical theories or explanations, but rather assembling
reminders as to the actual use of language. Some have argued that the
assembling of reminders of actual usage of language in different
contexts is without philosophical significance; but this objection
assumes that there is something beyond, or other than, the
employment or function or use of language in particular contexts, in
virtue of which it acquires its meaning, and from which the true
286 Linguistic philosophy
meaning could be determined independently of the use in particular
contexts. If there were something beyond, and other than, the actual
concrete usage of language in different contexts which determined the
essential meaning of expressions, then we might ignore the usage in
different contexts and concentrate on the real essential meaning of
expressions. Wittgenstein argues that there is nothing hidden beyond
the meaning involved in the exact description of the usage of
expressions in different contexts which would give the real meaning;
and there is nothing in common between the various usages in
different contexts which we could pick out as the essential meaning of
words and concepts.
The negative part of Wittgenstein’s project is to show why none of
the ways that have been suggested in which language essentially has
meaning are correct. There have been various suggestions as to how
language essentially has its meaning: for example, terms get their
meaning ultimately by naming objects, or by ostensive definitions
whereby we are shown examples of what terms mean, or by the
association of terms with mental images or ideas. When a feature or set
of features is suggested as necessary and sufficient for meaning,
Wittgenstein cites instances where these features are not present, and
yet we still regard the language as meaningful. The positive part of the
project is to describe the different ways that expressions are used in
different contexts, which is the same as showing the various meanings
that expressions can have.
The Philosophical investigations aims to make explicit that philosophy
involves using language in ways that are different from their normal
employment, also that philosophy does not pick out some essential
core meaning of expressions. One aim of the later philosophy is not
primarily to correct philosophical language, but to show that
philosophical usage is radically different from ordinary usage; in that
case, what we mean by certain expressions in a philosophical context
will be different from what we mean in an ordinary context; and there
is no external standard to which we could refer to establish which of
the various meanings in different contexts is the only correct one. The
generation of many of the problems of traditional philosophy—for
example, scepticism—relies on supposing that the meanings given to
the concepts studied are the correct ones, or at least that talk of the
single correct meaning makes sense.
In traditional philosophy there is the semblance of an attempt to
solve problems and really get to the bottom of matters, whereas really
there are, in different areas, always frameworks and presuppositions
which keep the problems alive—indeed keep them as problems—
while in other contexts outside philosophy such “problems” do not
even arise.
One of the chief characteristics of traditional philosophy is to seek
ultimate explanations and justifications beyond the point at which
Wittgenstein 287
they can make sense and even arise. That this is not manifestly
impossible is only because we do not really take such a step, but
bracket off some area in virtue of which the philosophical problems
can be stated and solutions offered. For example, in applying universal
Cartesian doubt to discover the indubitable foundations of knowledge,
we omit to doubt the meaning of the words used to express the
universal doubt, without which questions of doubt and knowledge
would not arise at all. The supposedly universal doubt of the Cartesian
sceptic inconsistently assumes that we know the meaning of the
language in which the processes and arguments leading to such doubt
are expressed. The later philosophy of Wittgenstein makes these
implicit assumptions explicit, and thereby demonstrates that our
seeking after ultimate explanations and justifications outside contexts
within which they can arise is impossible or nonsensical. There cannot
be such explanations for they would either involve something further
that would itself require explanation—although this may not be
immediately apparent—or step into an area where the request for
explanation does not arise. One of Wittgenstein’s slogans is that
“Explanations come to an end”. The import of this is that there comes
a point at which our attempts to explain and justify have to stop, and
beyond which the question of justification can no longer arise. But we
do not stop at something that finally explains all the rest, we stop at
something which cannot be given further explanation: at the perimeter
of the framework within which asking the questions in that context
makes sense. Explanation has to stop and we have to be content with a
description.
This does not mean that in the special sciences, such as physics, we
cannot explain one thing in terms of another, and push this procedure
to profound depths. Philosophy asks certain kinds of questions that
sometimes look like questions in the special sciences, but they are not;
they often seek to question the very framework in which providing
explanations and solving problems could make sense, and so they go
beyond the point where explanations can be given or are required. If
we do not notice differences in the meaning of the expressions we use
in different contexts, we will be tempted to think that we are doing
exactly the same kind of thing in each context. If we are explaining X,
we can do so in terms of a, b, c; and we can perhaps further explain a,
b, c. In explaining anything we are involved in a web of interrelated
elements which are used in explaining one another; but it makes no
sense to try to step outside everything, and ask for an explanation of
the whole thing. Explanations of why something is so require contexts
within which asking for explanations makes sense. Eventually we will
reach a point at which to ask for explanations in a given context has to
end: further explanations will fail either because they are questionbegging,
or because they involve something further that itself requires
explanation. There is in any case no framework of explanation
288 Linguistic philosophy
accounting for or justifying the practices of all other explanatory
frameworks, although the frameworks may be logically
interconnected. And even if there were such a super-framework, it
would also require explanation. This important idea applies to
meaning: expressions have meaning in their use in various contexts,
and it makes no sense to ask what is their real meaning stripped of
what would be said to justify their meaning as employed in various
actual contexts.
Moreover, what philosophy is concerned with is seeking logical
justifications or reasons, not, as in the sciences, causal explanations. It is
of course possible to give logical justifications or reasons for what we
do or say in various contexts; but traditional philosophy often seeks
justifications or reasons in ways and in contexts, or outside all
contexts, where we can no longer provide them. It seeks to answer the
question of what rational justification we have to go on, as we have
been doing in certain contexts beyond the point at which such
justifications need or can be given; and the attempt to do so merely
generates philosophical conundrums which further entangle the
philosopher in fruitless theorizing. For example, Wittgenstein himself
in the Tractatus sought to give an ultimate reason for the
meaningfulness of language in terms of its consisting of names of
simple or unanalyzable objects.
That there are sometimes causal explanations for why we do what
we do is not in dispute; but to give a causal explanation is not to say
we are justified in doing what we do. I might, for example, believe it to
be true that 1,574×6,266=9,862,684, and give a causal explanation for
having this belief as resulting from a sharp blow on the head received
while a child; but that would not give any justification for the belief
that the multiplication is true or should be thought so by others. What
we require is a justification for the belief that the multiplication is true
in terms of some appropriate evidence from which the conclusion can
be seen to follow logically or by which it is supported. For example:
this was the result I got with my pocket calculator. We might go on
further and ask why we believe the calculator reliable. Again we are
asking for the evidence we have used, from which the conclusion
follows, to be displayed; we are not asking for a causal explanation. An
appropriate answer to the question would not be in terms of my brain
being in a particular causally produced state, or my being brought up
in a particular way, for that would not give us a reason for believing
the calculator reliable. I may judge that p is true; a causal explanation
for my making that judgement could be given; but that would not
answer the question of whether I had a valid reason for thinking p
true; for that I would have to present evidence for judging p true; and
that would involve some kind of appropriate logical connection
between the evidence or reasons and the conclusion that p. To suggest
otherwise is to confuse causal power and logical validity. I can be
Wittgenstein 289
causally determined to arrive at a conclusion without the conclusion
rationally following from any available evidence; conversely a
conclusion may rationally follow from the available evidence without
any causal process guaranteeing that I draw it. An example of the
latter case is someone saying, “But after all this evidence, you can’t say
that”, followed by the quip “I just did”.
Wittgenstein’s point is that the giving of reasons or justifications
must come to an end, and what we can use as evidence or justification
must be available to us to use as evidence or justification, and not be
something hidden. But such justification must reach something that
does not require further logical justification, and beyond which the
seeking of logical justification becomes senseless. At this point we hit
bedrock. This line of thought applies, for example, to the justification
of belief. In the same way an explanation or an account of the
meaningfulness of language must come to an end with something
available to us which can be given in explanation, with reference to
which we can justify or give reasons for the meanings that words and
other linguistic expressions have, but beyond which no further
justification is required or can be given.
This attempt to stand completely outside the totality of the
patchwork of contexts—it might be pictured as a collection of many
overlapping circles—in which justification can be given, and to give
reasons for everything at once, is prevalent in the various areas of
philosophy. We find it in the area of giving an account of how
language gets its meaning and also in the area of what we can be said
to know. We are seeking to answer the question of what rational
justification we have for saying that certain words have a meaning,
and what right we have to say that we know certain things. What
justification have we for saying that certain words have, or have not, a
meaning? What justification have we for saying we understand the
meaning of a word? What justification have we for saying that we do,
or do not, know some particular truths? Again, that there are necessary
causal conditions for our making claims (such as having brains, having
been born, etc.) is not in dispute; nor does what Wittgenstein says rival
such causal accounts. What is at issue is whether we can give logical
justifications for such claims; we require evidence that in some way
supports the truth of the conclusions, and not just a causal explanation
for why we in fact make those claims.
Wittgenstein replaces essentialism about meaning with what might
be termed linguistic instrumentalism: an account of the phenomenon
of language eventually ends at a description of what we do, and the
meanings of the concepts language involves can be explained or
justified as being the way they are only from within language, not by
something else that lies beyond or behind language. Wittgenstein says
in the Philosophical investigations “Think of the tools in a tool-box… The
functions of words are as diverse as the functions of these objects.”
290 Linguistic philosophy
Wittgenstein shows how the attempt to justify the meaningfulness of
language as a whole fails, because the use of factors outside language
always presupposes some linguistic competence, and so does not
succeed in grounding the whole of language. He also shows that such
external ultimate justification is not in any case required for
meaningful language.
The negative side of Wittgenstein’s work attacks various attempts to
justify the meaning that expressions have in virtue of something
extralinguistic that purports to give a complete explanation or
justification for language having the meanings and concepts it has. If
the view opposed by Wittgenstein were established, we might discover
the real meaning of expressions beyond their meanings acquired and
justifiable within certain contexts. The accounts of language that
Wittgenstein opposes involve giving a single unified account of how
all language ultimately gets its meaning; it is supposed that all the
various manifestations of language have an essence, or single logic, in
virtue of which its expressions ultimately have or acquire their true
meaning. Three cases Wittgenstein considers are as follows:
(a) the theory of the Tractatus
(b) ostensive definition
(c) mentalism.
(a) The heart of the Tractatus theory is that whatever the surface
appearance of language, on analysis it consists entirely of names
which mean the objects for which they stand. There is an obvious
problem with the Tractatus view that the ultimate constituents of
language are names, and the meaning of a name is its object: the
problem is that Wittgenstein was unable to give any examples of
simple names or objects of the required indestructible unchanging
simplicity which would guarantee the meaningfulness of
language. If the objects named are complex and hence capable of
destruction, and the object is the meaning, then the
meaningfulness of language cannot be assured. Moreover, if the
objects are hidden and not available readily for us to use in any
justification of what we mean, it is difficult to understand in what
sense they can be said to explain the meaning of words or be used
to justify our understanding of their meaning. Also, naming is
merely one of a multitude of functions language can perform and
is an activity that presupposes an understanding of what naming
something is.
(b) If we are asked to give the meaning of a word we might give
some kind of account of its meaning in words in a verbal
definition; but this would be of any use only if we understood the
meaning of the words used in the given definition. Some have
thought that if this process is not to go on indefinitely and
language is to talk about the world, not just words, we must step
Wittgenstein 291
outside language. This is said to be done through ostensive
definitions—that is, by showing. If we take the word “dog” for
example, we might learn the meaning of the word through
someone uttering the word “dog”, in the presence of a dog, and
perhaps pointing at the dog. Such understanding of the meaning
of words could then be used to build up verbal definitions within
language. Wittgenstein does not question that such ostensive
teaching of language takes place. What he objects to is the idea
that such teaching is sufficient to underpin our understanding of
language as a whole. Ostension is systematically ambiguous, so
we must understand the significance of, or what is intended in,
the situation in which ostensive definitions are given, and such
understanding is not accounted for by ostension itself. For us to
understand that we are meant to be learning a general name like
“pencil”, and not a particular name like “Fred”, already
presupposes some linguistic understanding—in this case the
distinction between particular and general names—not accounted
for by mere ostension. For this reason ostensive definitions cannot
be the ultimate explanation for how language gets its meaning,
for ostensive definitions leave some linguistic understanding
unexplained; they do not explain how we get from no language at
all to some language. Children and foreigners learn some aspects
of language by ostensive definition; but such ostension works
only because they already have some linguistic understanding,
(c) Another view is that to understand the meaning of a word
involves associating it with a mental image or idea in the mind.
Insuperable difficulties arise for this view even if we set aside the
obvious objection that what an image of, say, justice would
consist in is entirely baffling. Suppose we try to use this theory to
explain our understanding of the word “red”. I come across an
object and I am deciding whether or not to call it red. The
mentalistic account suggests that what happens is that I call up
the image I have of red, compare it with the colour of the object,
and decide whether they are the same; if they are the same the
object is correctly called red. But how is this to be done? It is no
use my merely having the image of red; I must be able to call up
the correct image. However, being able to call up the right image
involves recognizing which image, among others, is that of red;
but such recognition was exactly what we set out to explain. My
ability to call up the right image is not explained by my
comparing it with another image, because how am I to call up the
correct image in that case? Wittgenstein is not denying that we do
sometimes use images, and that we may use them to identify
things; what he denies is that the reference to images can be the
foundation for our understanding of all language, for it already
presupposes the kind of understanding it was meant to explain.
292 Linguistic philosophy
Wittgenstein generally objects to the idea that understanding the
meaning of a word is constituted by being in some kind of special
mental state. The meaning of words does not rest on our mentally
intending a meaning. If we say, “Alan understands what is meant
by a crescendo”, we are not supposing that there must be
thoughts running through Alan’s head which constitute this
understanding. If this were the case we would say that he ceases
to understand what it means when he is asleep or distracted by
some other thought. Mental processes are neither necessary nor
sufficient for many other cases, such as “knowing”,
“remembering”, “believing”.
Wittgenstein’s aim is not to deny that many of the ways which are
mistakenly proposed as accounting for or explaining the meaning of
language as a whole could not be used to account for or explain what
we mean within parts of language; what he denies is that there is a
single unified account or explanation in terms of something external
to language as a whole. This means that the answer to the question
“What justifies the meanings and concepts we have in our language
as a whole?” is “Nothing does”. There is no standard external to the
agreed use of an expression in the language by which our usage can be
further justified. The question cannot be answered any other way
because any justification would already involve understanding and
taking for granted that we did understand the meaning of certain
expressions and concepts. So there is nothing outside all language
which gives such a total or complete justification for language being
as it is.
This complements Wittgenstein’s denial that he is presenting
overarching justificatory philosophical theories about language or
indeed about any other philosophical matter. By posting reminders of
the diversity and multiplicity of the uses of language, he hopes to
show that such overarching theories cannot be produced.
It may be thought that if we correctly call a collection of things or
activities by the same name, then they must have something in
common in virtue of which they are things or activities of that kind;
they must have a set of features which they, and only they, share; they
must have an essence. Such an essence could be characterized by a
definition which gives necessary and sufficient conditions or features
for being a particular kind of thing: necessary because anything of that
kind must have those features; sufficient because anything with those
features will be of that kind—so something is an X if and only if it
satisfies a certain set of conditions or has a certain set of features.
Wittgenstein thinks this is a mistake. If we try to define a concept in
this way, we will be unable to give conditions that are at once both
necessary and sufficient. Wittgenstein asks us to consider games, and
points to the difficulty involved in giving the essence of games:
Wittgenstein 293
something that they all have in common in virtue of which they are all
games. There is no such essence. There are of course resemblances; but
there is no single defining set of features that runs through them all.
We characterize them all as games in virtue of a series of various
overlapping resemblances; these Wittgenstein calls “family
resemblances” and likens to the way that we notice various
resemblances between members of the same family.
In the case of language, what we have is not a common defining
essence across all uses of language in virtue of which we count
something as language, but “a complicated network of similarities
overlapping and criss-crossing” between various linguistic activities.
There is also a network of logical relations between different
linguistic activities which enables us to speak of the whole system of
language as such.
In the Tractatus there was a single essential nature to language and a
single boundary between sense and nonsense; in the later philosophy
of the Philosophical investigations we have a patchwork of related
languages with internal boundaries—and although they may change,
the ignoring of them produces confusion—the sum total of which
constitutes our whole language. Wittgenstein refers to the variety of
kinds of ways that language can be used and the functions it can have
as “language-games”. Outside the boundary of all language-games
collectively, we do not have language at all, but nonsense.
Wittgenstein is not denying that we can lay down special technical
definitions, in science, say; but this is not the way words acquire
meaning or their meaning is understood in ordinary language. Once
we begin to use a word or concept in normal contexts the definition
will break down, and be outgrown, as we extend the application of the
concept.
The notion of “family resemblance” applies to the characterization
of language itself. Wittgenstein draws an analogy between language
and games, and so refers to language-games. But the resemblance
between games and language is only partial. He uses the term
language-game sometimes to apply to parts of actual language,
sometimes to restricted or different imaginary languages, and
sometimes to the whole of human language. He is of course concerned
not with any particular human language (like English or German), but
rather with features of human language in general. Examples of
language-games Wittgenstein gives are, among others, giving and
obeying orders, describing, storytelling, joking, asking, praying,
speculating. Each language-game has a “grammar” which describes,
but does not explain, the possible ways that concepts can be combined
within the game. We are making a grammatical, not an empirical,
point, if we say, “Every measuring rod has a length”; its denial would
be ungrammatical, and it is impossible in a different way from a
physical impossibility.
294 Linguistic philosophy
Wittgenstein’s position is that there is nothing that underlies the
whole of language which explains its meaning. Language forms a
patchwork of logically related activities which, unlike games, more
than merely resemble one another: they are interrelated. Thus we may
order someone to answer a question. The justification for saying that
words have a certain meaning does not reside in some single mode of
justification and cannot reside in something postulated that is hidden
from view beyond language. What justifies the meaning of a word, so
far as it can be justified, to be of any use to us in giving a justification,
must not be something hidden (as the Tractatus suggests) but
something open to view. If we are to give a logical justification for a
word having a certain meaning, it must be in terms of features that are
open to view and not hidden. What is hidden is not available to us,
and so could not be used in giving a justification of our understanding
of the meaning of linguistic expressions. What is available to view is
the various ways that language is used or employed in different
contexts. If we want to give the meaning of a word, the best we can do
is to describe the use of the word in various contexts; eventually there is
no further justification for the use we can give. Ultimately we describe,
saying: that is how we use it.
If we were asked, “How many goals have been scored in this chess
game?”, the question would not pose a problem which needs to be
solved on its face value, like “How many goals have been scored in
this football match?”; rather, we would explain the rules of chess, and
that “goal” is “ungrammatical” (in Wittgenstein’s sense of the term) in
this context. So it is with language-games; propositions are
ungrammatical in involving words transferred from a context in which
they have a use to a context where they are inappropriate, that is, they
have no use. Many philosophical problems are a result of not noticing
the transference of a word from one context where it has a use to
another where it does not have a use. For example, we may transfer
talk of “mechanism” or “object” in a physical context to the context of
talk about minds. We produce nonsense by trying to transfer talk
outside any and all linguistic frameworks.
It is important to note that Wittgenstein is not giving a “use theory
of meaning”, as if the use explains the meaning; the use in various
contexts just is the meaning; meaning and use are identical. There is no
single feature common to all the various uses to which language can be
put; there is a multiplicity of uses. It is not as if the meaning of a word
were one thing and its use another; a word gets its meaning in its
being used in particular ways. Ultimately the meaning of a word does
not determine its use; rather, the use of a word is its meaning; and
without a certain sort of use the word does not have a meaning which
could determine its use.
However, not every difference in use entails a difference in
meaning, so is it right to identify meaning and use? What is involved
Wittgenstein 295
here are matters of degree; we do not have to suppose that expressions
which we regard as having the same meaning must have identical
common uses which are the use; that would be to revert to the kind of
essentialism Wittgenstein rejects; all that we need suppose is that there
is sufficient overlap in use for us to say the meaning is the same.
Analogously it is perfectly correct to say a mallet and a plane are both
carpentry tools because of what is done with them and the contexts in
which they are used, even though their use is not identical. If the uses
to which a word was put failed to overlap at all, we would say that we
have a word with different meanings, for giving a description of how
we would use the word in various situations is what the meaning of
the word amounts to. If words failed to overlap by the criteria
(whatever they turn out to be) which determine their correct
application—that is, uses that are recognized by others—we would
then be likely to say that the words each had a different meaning. That
a word has a meaning at all depends on there being some agreement in
use. But the point at which a change of meaning occurs is not
necessarily clear-cut. Here Wittgenstein gives up the Tractatus
requirement of definiteness of meaning.
A good analogy is with money; something becomes money through
the way it is used. That something is money consists in what people
are willing to do with it, such as take it in exchange for goods and
services as virtually everyone else is willing to do. It was soon found to
be unnecessary for coins to be made from gold or even to be backed by
gold. It is not something intrinsic to the coin which constitutes its
being money. If this is doubted we have only to think of the way
cigarettes became money during the Second World War and at other
times; cigarettes being money was a matter of the way they were used.
To understand the meaning of a word is to be able to participate in
using the word appropriately in a language-game. To use a word or
other linguistic expression in a language-game is in turn to be involved
with using language in a certain “form of life”—certain natural
activities and behaviour which arise from human needs, interests and
purposes. Language is autonomous in the sense that its justification
must lie within it, but is nevertheless evolved from human practices
and human needs. At the basic level it is agreement in these
practices—the agreement as to how to go on—that makes meaningful
language possible but does not justify that meaning. That is, the form
of life is not what justifies our saying that certain words have suchand-such
a meaning; but that we naturally go on in certain ways is
what makes agreement in use—hence meaning—possible. The form of
life is what we have to “accept as given”; it involves the most basic
features of the human condition which stem from the fundamental
facts about human nature and the world, “the common behaviour of
mankind”. That certain fundamental things are unavoidable features
of human beings, and that we share needs and interests, is what
296 Linguistic philosophy
enables agreement as to ways of going on in certain situations to get
going in the first place. These common needs and interests and our
agreement to go on naturally in certain ways are what makes
agreement as to use possible. That these ways of going on are often
unavoidable means that they are not open to choice; they are not
arbitrary; they are simply what we do in a given situation, and lie
beyond being justified or unjustified. It is possible that we could go on
differently, but in fact in certain ways we do not: we agree.
We can no more ask for rational justification for the givens of
human life, or say that they are unjustified, than we can ask for a
rational justification—rather than a causal explanation—for a tree
falling on us. Rational justification, once we have exhausted all the
ways in which we can justify our doing something in such-and-such
a way, must come to an end in a description. To lay to rest our
philosophical search for ultimate foundations, we have to come to
see that certain of our human activities—for example, deriving one
proposition from another—are ultimately groundless and not
justified, but also that they are not the kinds of activities that can be
further grounded or justified; therefore their lacking such a
grounding is not a deficiency in those activities. Such ways of going
on are neither justified nor unjustified, rather they are fundamental
facts about human nature and the way humans agree to go on in
various situations. That there is no rational justification does not
show that what we do is irrational or confused, it could be simply
non-rational: what we do. In this it is possible to see some similarity
between Hume and Wittgenstein: they agree that rational justification
has its limits, and what we are left with are the most basic things that
human beings cannot help doing; and it now makes no sense to ask
for rational justification for matters that are not a product of
reasoning at all.
The possession of our most basic concepts—such as inferring,
recognizing, assent and dissent—is not something that can be further
explained or justified, because any explanation would presuppose those
concepts or some others. There is a great diversity of practices or
language-games and each involves basic concepts which it is senseless
to question; it is senseless because without taking those concepts for
granted as “given”, the kinds of justifications that take place within
the language-games could not even arise. Having these concepts
means we can take part in the language-game or practice; but if one
does not have them, then the possession of those concepts cannot be
further justified by anything else within the language-game, for that
would already involve accepting the basic concepts the languagegame
involves. If the use of expressions within two practices is
sufficiently different—that is, there is little or no overlap in use—then
it is not that we disagree in our judgements involving these concepts;
rather, we are simply saying something else. Wittgenstein says the
Wittgenstein 297
practice, or language-game, and the form of life of which it is a part, is
given. It is not given in the sense of being a self-evident logical
foundation; it is given in the sense that there is no further justification
for the whole practice, for justification only makes sense within
practices. The form of life which involves a language-game is neither
reasonable nor unreasonable. That is not to say that up to a point the
normally accepted bedrock of a language-game cannot alter, but there
are limits, for beyond a certain point we will say not that we are
dealing with a different linguistic practice, but rather that we are not
dealing with a language at all. If we cannot identify any part of some
behaviour as manifesting the possession of any of our concepts—such
as assent and dissent—then we will say that what we are witnessing is
not language at all.
It might be thought that the meaning of a word could be finally
settled and justified as being such-and-such by citing a rule for its use.
We can first note there is no such rule-book for ordinary language; but
even if there were it would not help. Any rule can be interpreted in an
indefinite number of ways. Suppose I am asked why I interpret a rule in
a certain way. I could go on to cite a further rule which says how the
original rule is to be interpreted. But suppose I am then asked why I
interpret the further rule in a certain way. Eventually this process must
come to an end and I will have exhausted all justifications; I will have to
say: “This is what we do”, which gives a description, not a justification.
It makes perfect sense to say that one can act correctly, in accordance
with a rule—follow a rule—even though one can give no justification
for why one acts that way and interprets it thus. Following a rule
amounts to acting in a customary way in specific cases. In the end it is
not rules that determine the meaning of words but use of words that
determines the rules for use that we might formulate; the rules for use
do not exist prior to what we do with the words in the language. That a
certain rule can be “interpreted”—substituting one rule for another—in
a certain way eventually depends upon there being an agreed natural
particular way of going on, perhaps after some kind of natural response
to training. Some examples will illustrate these points.
(i) We might give a justification for saying X is red by comparing X
against a colour-chart. How would we know that what we had
identified on the chart as red was red? We might say it was
because “red” was printed there. But how would we know we
were using the chart correctly? A mental colour-chart would have
the same problem. We have reached bedrock; we have the
capacity to identify the colours of things thanks to the way we
naturally respond to certain training. No rational justification can
be given as a whole for our adopting classification by colourconcepts.
(ii) Suppose we asked someone to accept the simple logical theorem
298 Linguistic philosophy
modus ponens: “If p then q, p, therefore q”. Here “p” and “q” stand
for any propositions you like. What further justification could be
given of this? If a person cannot see this, then it is not clear how
we could go on to offer further justification as to why, given “(if p
then q) and p”, he should logically infer “q”. The person has
parted company with us even before the game of logic begins; he
is playing a different game. Even if something further could be
offered in justification, we would have to come to an end in a
natural way of going on. For a rule does not say of itself how it
must be interpreted.
(iii) Wittgenstein gives the following example. Suppose we are given
the following table or schema where the letters can be used as
orders as to how we should move about:
a ®
b ¬
c
d ¯
We are then given an order, aacaddd. We look up in the table the
arrow corresponding to each letter; we get:
Suppose someone read not straight across the table but
diagonally instead? Thus he or she would proceed to read the
table according to the following schema:
And there are many other possible schemata. What could we do?
Construct another table on how to read the first? But this cannot
go on indefinitely; eventually one simply has to gather or catch
on to what is wanted, and no further justification can be given,
for any rule can be variously interpreted.
We cannot be compelled to do logic and use language in a certain way
unless we already take for granted a framework within which disputes
about the correct way of going on can arise. The meaning of the rules is
generated by the way they are used; we then impose the rules upon
Wittgenstein 299
ourselves. We eventually exhaust reasons, and we have then no reason
to follow a rule as we do; that there is such a thing as “following a
rule” depends on there being some customary ways of going on, for
whatever re-expression we give we eventually have to stop at some
agreed way of acting which cannot be further re-expressed.
What we count as “doing the same thing” each time we apply a rule
will itself be relative to a framework. Our being inside practices and
frameworks takes for granted or depends on human beings acting in
natural sorts of ways in certain circumstances—human beings having
certain natural ways of responding or reacting; this, logically speaking,
gets the practice or framework off the ground. Within these practices
disputes can arise. No rule can force you to go on in a certain way; no
logical deduction means you must accept the conclusion if you accept
the premises. Lewis Carroll in his essay “What the Tortoise said to
Achilles” anticipated this point by showing that the attempt to justify
all rules of inference, or the process of inference itself, leads to an
infinite regress because each attempt will involve a further inference.
This does not mean that necessary truths such as those of
mathematics and logic depend for their truth on facts about human
nature; what depends on facts about human nature is our
possessing and understanding the concepts required for disputes
over whether something is true or proved within mathematics and
logic to arise at all.
To show whether I understand a word I can give a definition of it;
but such definitions cannot go on for ever. Eventually I will have to
show that I can use words appropriately in given contexts or practices.
The meaning of words and other linguistic expressions is a matter of
public or communal agreement to use those words and linguistic
expressions in particular ways—ways that can, with care, be described.
I can be said to understand the meaning of a word if I can use it in
agreed ways. If I start to use it in some other way that differs
sufficiently from the agreed usage, it will be doubted that I understand
the meaning of the expression at all.
It might be thought that talk of communal agreement involves a
kind of relativism about truth, as if it were the case that if enough
people agree that something is true, it is true. But this is a mistake.
Wittgenstein is concerned with a more fundamental kind of
agreement: without our participation in a framework, so that we
understand the meaning of its basic concepts, the question of truth or
falsity has not yet arisen. But there is no way one can make someone
participate in the framework in the first place. We cannot force
someone to answer the question “Is this checkmate?” if they cannot, or
will not, play chess. The agreement which is relevant here is one of
meaning, not of truth. If an agreement or disagreement over the truth
or falsity of a statement is possible, then we must mean the same by
the statement. That we mean the same will be determined by
300 Linguistic philosophy
agreement in use. Take the statement that “x is F”; that two people can
be in disagreement as to the truth of this statement presupposes that
the meaning of “F” for the two people is the same; whether it is the
same is established by how the two people use or apply “F” in
particular contexts. Disagreement as to whether “x is red” is true or
false presupposes an agreement over what we mean by “red”.
This brings us to Wittgenstein’s “private language argument”.
Wittgenstein argues that language is communal in nature: it depends
upon agreement in use within a community. If it were possible to
construct a logically private language then this would refute
Wittgenstein’s view. We must note that such a case must be logically
private, so that it is impossible for anyone else to understand the
language; that is, it must be untranslatable into any other language.
Such a case is where we supposedly give names to our private
sensations by a sort of “inner” ostensive definition; by this is meant the
association of a word with a private mental image which is then the
meaning of the word. This is a special case of the meaning of a word
being the object for which it stands. Suppose that I keep a diary, and
write down “S”, intending it to stand for a certain sensation; I then aim
to write down “S” on subsequent occasions when the sensation occurs.
How can I tell that I am applying “S” correctly on subsequent
occasions? One suggestion might be that I could call up from memory
the original sensation and check that in applying “S” to my current
sensation I am applying it correctly. But how do I know that I have
called up the right sensation from my memory? Do I go on to check
that memory against a further memory? But in that case I have got no
further, as the same problem would arise. Without there being some
kind of independent objective check as to whether I am applying “S”
correctly, we cannot speak of being correct or incorrect at all, since
there is no distinction between merely seeming right and being right.
No consequences follow from my applying the word in one way rather
than another; it cannot clash with any established use; and so it is not
proper to speak of “S” being correctly or incorrectly used. Hence, “S”
has not been given a meaning; a logically private naming of sensations
is not possible. This may imply that no logically private language is
possible.
The philosophical import of Wittgenstein’s views derives to a large
extent from two important connected ideas:
(I) That there is no essence to language: there is no single way that
words and other linguistic expressions acquire their meaning by
reference to something external to language.
(II) That the meaning of a word and other linguistic expressions
varies with their use in particular contexts or practices.
These two points together have the effect of undermining much of
traditional philosophy and its problems. They attack the idea that
Wittgenstein 301
philosophy can establish and study the true or real meaning of certain
words which express concepts. There is no independent absolute
standard from which the question of the correct meaning could be
judged or arise, since words and other linguistic expressions have
meaning only in their use in actual or concrete human practices. If we
attempt to step outside all cases where an expression is actually used,
then it ceases to have any meaning, and the question of a meaning
being correct does not arise.
Traditional philosophy tends to claim that it is examining the real
meaning of “knowledge”, and other concepts, as opposed to their
meaning in ordinary usage. But there are no grounds for claiming that
the philosophical meaning is superior. The sceptic claims that we do
not have knowledge in situations where it is perfectly obvious that
according to ordinary usage we do have knowledge—but it is in
ordinary usage that the meaning of “knowledge” is established;
therefore the sceptic’s meaning of “knowledge” is different.
Wittgenstein is not saying that the ordinary usage of these concepts
is unalterable. The point is that there is no way of establishing that a
term has only one correct meaning, disregarding the meaning arising
from the ordinary employment of the term. If a term ceases to be
applied in any of the cases where it normally has a use, then we will
say that it has at least altered its meaning. To argue that this fact is
philosophically unimportant relies on the idea that there is some single
correct meaning of words which is their true meaning established in all
cases by something other than their actual function or use.
Philosophers use words in ways different from their ordinary use.
Wittgenstein posts reminders that words do have other than
philosophical uses and that if philosophers uses the words in ways
they would never be used in ordinary contexts, then he must mean
something different by them. Concepts have different meanings in
different contexts, and no one context can claim to be superior to the
rest in giving the single correct meaning of the concept. The denial of
this supposes that there is more to the meaning of a word or linguistic
expression than the description of how it is used, functions, or is
applied in a given context; it supposes that somehow, behind the
description of how an expression is used, there is something else by
which we can identify its real or essential meaning. The view that
posits something else giving the real meaning of a term beyond the
meaning resulting from a term’s actual agreed use is the view that
Wittgenstein rejects.
What becomes of the traditional problems of philosophy? Why
does Wittgenstein have so little to offer in the way of traditional
philosophical solutions? The answer to this is that Wittgenstein’s
account of language means that many of the traditional problems of
philosophy disappear as problems. The problems we are referring to
are such as “our knowledge of the existence of the external world”,
302 Linguistic philosophy
“our knowledge of the existence of other minds”, “that we cannot
really know that someone is in pain, but can only infer it from their
behaviour”; and such problems involve concepts such as
“knowledge”, “being”, “object”, “I”, “proposition”, “name”. Given
that traditional philosophy cannot claim the right to say it has
identified the true or real meaning of these terms, Wittgenstein
makes explicit the fact that they have a use in circumstances in which
there are no problems of the sort characterized by philosophy. There
is a perfectly good sense in which we do know whether other people
have minds, and whether they are in pain, and we can describe the
circumstances in which we employ the words involved. If it is said
that we do not really know in such cases, then we must say, precisely
because there is an attempt to exclude the use of “know” in
circumstances central to establishing its use and hence its meaning,
that “know” must be being used in a different sense from normal.
The meaning of a concept such as “know” is its use in appropriate
circumstances; therefore it makes perfect sense to say that we know
in those circumstances. There is nowhere beyond a description of
actual agreed use from where we could say that it is wrong to speak
of knowledge in those cases. If we do not mean by “knowledge”
what we mean in cases where “knowledge” is most normally used,
then what do we mean by it?
What the sceptical position is supposed to show is that correctly
establishing the satisfaction of the criteria of application of a term
“X” does not show that anything actually corresponds to the
theoretical or ontological assumptions that are normally involved in
the application of “X”. The sceptic about knowledge does not doubt
that we in fact clearly distinguish cases of knowing from notknowing
in the sense of consistently applying “know” in certain
circumstances and withholding it in others; but this fails to show that
the cases where we are linguistically correct (by the normal criteria of
our language) in applying “know” can be justified as cases of
knowing. The reply to this is that if the cases in which we normally
use the word “know” are not what we mean by “know”, then it is not
clear what the sceptic can mean when he says that in ordinary cases
we do not “know”. The sceptic must mean we do not “<know>”
(giving some special sense to this word), which is to construe “know”
independent of its ordinary use. But then the proposition “I know in
circumstances abc” cannot be logically contradicted by the
proposition “You do not <know> in circumstances abc”. Otherwise it
would be like saying that “I fight in circumstances abc” is logically
contradicted by the proposition “You do not jump in circumstances
abc”. We may also take the view that if the sceptic fails to pick up on
publicly established criteria for the usage of terms, then he does not
mean anything at all by “<know>”, since it has no use. And even if
he does give a new meaning to “<know>” (perhaps by definition, or
Wittgenstein 303
by indicating the criteria which have to be satisfied for its use), the
onus is on the sceptic to show why it is that we should accept his
radically different use (hence different meaning) as the one that
should be satisfied before anything can count as knowing instead of
the one we all normally accept.
304 Linguistic philosophy
continued to ...