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Wittgenstein's Logic of Language

Chapters 7-10

Note: there are 13 chapters, divided over three Web pages. There is a Table of Contents and an Introduction which explains the nature of the first principles of the later philosophy.

Outline of this page ...

7. The Rules of the Game

Although we use the words of our language without difficulty in day to day life, we are often unable to say what the rules for their use, or definitions, are (BB p. 25). Suppose we were asked to explain the meaning of the word 'mind' or 'time' ... the meanings of many words, especially in philosophy, appear vague and cloudy to us. This is because our naive ideas about language meaning are misunderstandings of the logic of language.

A move in a game, as in "language game"

One way to get a clearer view of a word's use in the language (or grammar) is to describe the use of a word as if it were a move in a game (Z § 294), because both moves in games and words are given meaning by following rules.

For example, imagine going to a corner greengrocers to buy apples (cf. BB p. 16-17). The grocer asks us how many apples we would like. And if we answer 'blue', then we are playing the game wrong (cf. OC § 446), because we are not allowed by the rules of this game to answer with a color-word -- i.e. the word 'blue' is nonsense, mere sound without sense in this context. The rules of the game require us to answer with a number-word (and not only a number-word, but a reasonable number, e.g. five but not five-hundred [Note 6]).

In Wittgenstein's jargon, buying apples at a greengrocer's is an example of a "primitive language game". (The language to games comparison may now seem obvious, but was it always so (PG i § 134, p. 187)?)

Common Names and "Family Likenesses"

At school we are taught that the meaning of a word is the essence of the thing, action or quality it names. And therefore English teachers ask children for general definitions, although those definitions rarely identify an essence -- for if they did there would never be any doubt about how a defined word was to be used (Euthyphro 6d-e). Plato's general definition of 'quickness' as "the quality which accomplishes much in a little time" (Laches 192a) is hardly unambiguous. And therefore judged by the school definition, most words of our language are without meaning = essence.

Likewise many philosophers have said that the meaning of a common name is the common nature it names. In fact that is the exceptional case. But that a common name need not mean a common nature, Wittgenstein illustrates with the common name 'game'.

Logic looks at the use of language from one point of view only: "what happens considered as a game". (Cf. PG i §§ 32, 30, p. 68, 66)

Differences and Similarities

But games (and their rules) are quite varied, as are the uses of words in the language. Games range from chess with its strict rules to the simple play of a child skipping rope or throwing a ball into the air. (We may compare to the variety of games -- and contrast with one another -- the ways the words 'love', 'giraffe', 'seven', 'warmish', and 'logical function' are used in the language.)

Consider ... the proceedings that we call 'games'. I mean board-games, card-games, ball-games, Olympic games, and so on. What is common to them all? -- Don't say: "There must be something common, or they would not be called 'games'" -- but look and see whether there is anything common to all. (PI § 66)

Tennis and volleyball and badminton have nets in common, but volleyball has no rackets, and there is no ball in badminton. All three are played on marked grids, as are chess and hopscotch, but there is no net, racket or ball in chess or in hopscotch. There is no grid in jump rope, but there is hopping. There is no net in bridge and no playing cards in tennis, but bridge and doubles tennis are played by teams. There are no teams in solitaire (patience), but there are playing cards. There are no playing cards in chess, but one may play chess against oneself, and jump rope may be played alone or in groups. Fetch is sometimes played with a ball, and there is no winning or losing in fetch, but there is exercise in it. There is no exercise in chess and no dog, but there may be winning and losing.

There are countless similarities (but also dissimilarities) between particular games and between kinds of games. Compare games for yourself.

For if you look at them you will not see something that is common to all, but similarities, relationships, and a whole series of them at that. (ibid.)

Looking at games and finding there not something "in which they do not differ but are all alike" (Meno 72c), but only various similarities between games, Wittgenstein invented this simile:

I can think of no better expression to characterize these similarities than 'family resemblances' [or 'family likenesses' (BB p. 17)] ... And I shall say: games form a family. (PI § 67)

But then is Wittgenstein saying that the meaning of the word 'game' is the resemblances among games, i.e. that the similarities perhaps collectively are the common nature of games? No, he is saying that the word 'game' has no meaning -- if meaning DEF.= common nature or essence. The word 'game' is not nonsense ("mere sound without sense"), but its role in our language is also not to name a common nature.

Unserviceable meanings of 'meaning'

Presumptions about language: that (1) words are names of things and a word's meaning is the thing it names (Plato: "You do not suppose that the man can understand the name of a thing when he does not know what the thing is" (Theaetetus 147b); but there is a difference between saying that the meaning of a name is often explained by pointing to its bearer (PI § 43) and saying that the meaning of a name is the bearer or the bearer's nature); that (2) the meaning of a common name is the common nature (or essence) of a class of things. Both those presumptions are "grammatical fictions" (ibid. § 307).

Definitions of 'meaning' whereby most or all words are without meaning (meaningless) are only of negative use in trying to understand the logic or grammar of language. They mark off false paths only.

"Look at language meaning this way!"

Wittgenstein set aside those preconceptions about word meaning to look at language this way: to ask for a description of the word's use in the language as shown by the facts in plain view. That description is the word's meaning, in the sense of meaning DEF.= explanation of meaning. It is the only meaning most words have.

How is the meaning of the word 'game' explained -- what does a "non-essential" or "meaningless" definition look like? Like a grammatical remark, i.e. an explanation that tells you the way to go on (PI § 151) if you don't know your way about (ibid. § 123).

Don't ask for the meaning; ask for the use in the language (PG i § 23, p. 60)

A philosopher says: Look at things this way! (CV p. 61)

We use the word 'game' as Wittgenstein describes, but the old perplexity persists: Why do we call them all 'games' -- i.e. what is the meaning of the word 'game'? But that question is not a move in a language game -- unless the word 'meaning' is defined in an unserviceable way -- and then the only answer to our question is that the word 'game' is meaningless ... But a meaningless word that can convey meaning is not meaningless -- i.e. a different meaning of the word 'meaning' is needed if we are to describe (and set aside false preconceptions about) the way our language works.

As we normally use the word 'meaning', words with a use in the language are not meaningless

If we are going to hold fast to the idea that a common name names a common nature, then if there is no common nature, the name will be meaningless -- and therefore impossible to define. But as we normally use the word 'meaning' we don't say that the word 'game' is meaningless (and undefinable). That is not the logic of our language. [Note 6a]

A common name, not a common nature

The word 'game' does not name a common nature, but more or less similar things are called 'games'. As more or less similar things are called uses of language. And like games they may in fact be very dissimilar, as examples of "proposition types" show.

But if the doubt remains: "Still, games must have something in common (for otherwise they wouldn't all be called 'games')", then the answer is that there is indeed one thing that all games really do have in common: a word -- i.e. they are all called 'games'. Take that word away from us, however --.

Further, if games all do have something in common, that something may not be defining (PI § 153), as indeed having the name 'game' in common is not. ("A game by any other name would still be a game" ... or would it be?)

... how is the concept 'game' bounded? What still counts as a game and what no longer does? Can you state the boundary? No. You can draw one, because none has so far been drawn. (But that never troubled you before when you used the word 'game'.) (ibid. § 68)

That is the "critique of language" that "all philosophy is" (TLP 4.0031, tr. Ogden), and it is a review rather than a criticism, if, as Wittgenstein later thought, "The sign-post is in order -- if, under normal circumstances, it fulfills its purpose" (PI § 87).

Is an "indefinite boundary" no boundary at all -- is a "game without fixed rules" not a game at all? (ibid. §§ 98-100). Because that is how the concepts of our natural language often are, and it is why in philosophical discussions we sometimes invent rules (boundaries) to make our meaning clear, rules which are not normal usage. We must sometimes recognize, sometimes make a distinction, between sense and nonsense when we philosophize.

Drawing lines between the resemblances of the faces of a family

Wittgenstein gave an explicit account of family resemblances among human faces: "And one would like to draw lines connecting the parts that various faces have in common" with various others as one might do with a collection of photographs (PI § 67). Lines might similarly be drawn between the resemblances between Wittgenstein's games examples.

Plato and concept-formation

If the formation of concepts can be explained by facts of nature, should we not be interested, not in grammar, but rather in that in nature which is the basis of grammar? (PI II, xii, p. 230; cf. ibid. § 142; OC § 617)

Wittgenstein's "theory of family resemblances" does not explain (account for) concept-formation. It sets the question of concept-formation aside; it does not answer Plato's question of how there can be common names if there are no corresponding common natures (Parmenides 135b-c). Because note: Wittgenstein gives no criterion for distinguishing one family from another family. The word 'family' in fact adds nothing to 'resemblances'. Wittgenstein's "theory" amounts to pointing out similarities (but everything is similar to everything else in some way or another).

Plato warns against mere resemblances when we are seeking to know the essence of a thing (Sophist 231a). If a concept (common name) is nothing more than a collection of various things that are alike in various ways but in no essential way, then there are limitless possible concepts, and the question of why our language consists of the actual concepts it does is not answered by Wittgenstein. But Plato believes there is a relationship between the concepts we actually have and reality itself, which is a view Wittgenstein shares in a limited way --

Very general facts of nature and concept-formation

If anyone believes that certain concepts are absolutely the correct ones ... then let him imagine certain very general facts of nature to be different from what we are used to, and the formation of concepts different from the usual ones will become intelligible to him. (PI II, xii, p. 230)

Wittgenstein offers a description -- not of how concepts are formed (i.e. their origins), but of what we find if we look at the everyday concepts of our language after their formation. Wittgenstein's family likeness analogy (metaphor) is not a theory, if by 'theory' is meant 'an explanation of phenomena' (in this case, the phenomenon of concept-formation).

Ockham employs the principle of economy in explaining concept-formation: Plato and Socrates are both called by the class-name 'man' because they are more similar to one another than either is to a donkey. No further explanation is needed: concepts are dictated by facts of nature. That may sound plausible in the case of 'man', but maybe not so plausible in the case of 'game'.

Further criticism of Wittgenstein's metaphor

Spengler could be better understood if he said: I am comparing different periods of culture with the lives of families; within the family there is a family resemblance, while you will also find a resemblance between members of different families ... (CV (1998 rev. ed.) [MS 111 119: 19.8.1931]; cf. CV (1980) p. 14)

Wittgenstein's "family resemblance" simile -- As the members of a human family resemble one another in various ways, so the members of a class resemble one another in various way, although no particular one of these ways is essential to membership -- is not a definition of 'meaning'. It is a comparison only, an after-the-fact-description of what we may find if we look at concepts (classes of things).

The criticism of Wittgenstein's simile is: what can be done with it in logic of language investigations? At best it is a grammatical reminder (1) not to presume that there must be an essential quality or common nature definition for every common name, and (2) that an explanation of the meaning of a class-name (concept-word) may involve pointing out similarities between the members of the class.

At worst Wittgenstein's simile may suggest that Wittgenstein's "theory of family resemblances" had solved the ancient puzzle of concept-formation posed by Plato, rather than simply setting it aside (PI § 47).

There are various criteria for inclusion in a human family (belief in common ancestry is the usual one, with adoption being another), but in the case of language there is only one criterion for inclusion in a family -- namely, bearing the same family name, regardless of how it may have been that our natural history bequeathed that name to anything.

Classes as families

It is not by chance that all these things have been put together ... (LC i, 4, p. 1)

We can justify putting things in a tool chest together: namely that they are used to do various kinds of constructive (or destructive) work. That seems to be a very general definition of tools. But the instrument used to print brail is also a tool (and not merely figuratively), but it does not belong in the construction worker's tool chest.

"It is not by chance that ..." In other words, it is done for a reason -- or reasons. The exact reason for putting a glue pot in the chest is different from the exact reason for putting the chisel there. Is the reason the kind of work? It seems there is no essence of tools, so then are we going to talk about a family of reasons? (The word 'family' seems to explain, to make this clearer, whereas it in fact explains nothing and makes nothing clear.)

To say no more than we know (BB p. 45), i.e. what is public and verifiable by anyone, we ought to say no more than that there are various similarities between games, but that none of those similarities is defining of the common name 'game'. (To say more than that would be to think we know what we don't know, which is the cardinal vice in philosophy (Plato, Apology 22d-e, 29a; cf. Xenophon, Memories of Socrates iii, 9, 6 and iv, 6, 1).

Endnotes Chapter 7

Note 6: There are different kinds of rules, of course; not all rules are rules of sense and nonsense (or grammar). Some rules have their origin in what is practical or experientially possible: the corner grocer can only stock so many apples. But if you ask the grocer for five hundred apples you are nonetheless playing the game wrong, and there are grounds for right and wrong.

Rules and sense and nonsense (Playing the game wrong versus nonsense)

Note that if I ask for five-hundred apples, although I am breaking a rule of the game, I am not talking nonsense, whereas if I answer 'How many?' with 'blue', I am talking nonsense. So that "playing the game wrong" may not appear to be the criterion (or sufficient criterion) for distinguishing sense (i.e. language with meaning) from nonsense. Rather, break some rules and you talk nonsense; but break other rules and you only play the game wrong -- i.e. but what you say isn't unintelligible.

My aim is to teach you to pass from something that is disguised nonsense to something that is blatant nonsense. (PI § 464)

Even if we wanted to call any playing of the game wrong nonsense, that wouldn't obliterate the difference between "played wrong" and "unintelligible": we know what it would be like to stock and hand over 500 apples, but not what "How many?" -- "Blue" would mean. And yet the response is the same in both cases, namely "I don't know how to go on with the game." And in that sense a ruled-out move might be called nonsense when comparing language use to playing games. (Comparison: alike ≠ identical.)

The relationship between our concepts and general facts of nature

The propositions 'There are physical objects' and 'Human beings can only jump so high' are of very different kinds. The first proposition is a rule of grammar, if it isn't nonsense, for what use has that combination of words in the language? The second is a very general fact of nature.

Wittgenstein writes that a language game is without grounds (OC § 559), but he gives an example that seems to refute that thesis, namely the act of weighing cheese (PI § 142). And if some very general facts of nature were different from what they are, our way of life might be very different, e.g. the word 'know' might have a different meaning from what it has in our world.

Not only rules but a point

There are different kinds of rules of the game, e.g. the rule in chess that if you touch a piece you must move that piece and not some other seems different in kind from the rule that the bishop is permitted only to move along diagonals through unoccupied squares. The rule that the volleyball must be returned to the opposition server under the net not over is similar to the touch rule in chess. Some rules appear to be outside the game itself; nonetheless, they may be binding. (Cf. PI § 68)

Let us say: the meaning of a piece (a figure) is its role in the game. -- Now before the start of any chess-game let it be decided by lot which of the players gets white. For this purpose one player holds a king in each closed hand and the other chooses one of the hands at random. Will it be reckoned as part of the role of the king in chess that it is used for drawing by lot?

Thus even in a game I am inclined to distinguish between essential and inessential. The game, I would like to say, does not just have rules; it has a point. (RFM i §§ 19-20, p. 108-109) [Note 7])

But if elements are inessential, then it follows that others are essential. What defines a game are its rules, but some rules may not be essential to the game, i.e. defining (That is an example of a "grammatical remark").

Logic and nuance. Rules and impressions

No one would believe that a poem remained essentially unaltered if its words were replaced by others in accordance with an appropriate convention. (PG i § 32, p. 69)

But in Wittgenstein's logic of language, the poem's meaning would remain unaltered: its 'meaning' in the sense of 'affective nuance' (or 'sensibility') does not belong to "meaning = use in the language = rules of grammar", and therefore the poem's meaning, in Wittgenstein's sense of 'meaning', would remain "essentially unaltered" despite the poem's words being replaced by others of equivalent meaning. The word 'spiders' can replace the phrase 'friends of the cobwebs' with no change of meaning. (There is no defined way to measure nuance; we say that poetry in translation is "just not the same".)

What interests us in the sign, the meaning which matters for us is what is embodied in the grammar of the sign.... In a certain sense one might say that we are not concerned with nuances. (ibid. i § 44, p. 87)

Is the meaning of words always told by the words alone (Z § 144)? But context can be quite wide, e.g. facial expressions. The telephone: disembodied voices: "People can't see that you are smiling." Is that you are smiling when you talk on the telephone essential to the meaning of your words? and then does your hearer not know the meaning of your words if that person doesn't know that you are smiling? Does tone of voice (which seems to belong to context) determine the meaning of the words 'I hate you', because those words can be used affectionately (as well as in many other ways).

Logic of language and Philosophy (Wittgenstein, Socrates and choosing standards)

What have these questions to do with philosophy (PI § 109)? Logic of language is the basis of philosophy, and these questions point out the indefiniteness of the concept 'meaning' and the barrier that indefiniteness would present to distinguishing sense from nonsense in the language used in philosophy -- had not Wittgenstein selected a particular meaning of 'meaning' for his work in philosophy. And if Socrates had not chosen the particular meaning of 'to know' he chose. It is because of the choices these two philosophers made that investigations in philosophy can be objective, rather than more or less nebulously seeming not to be nonsense or seeming not to be false rather than true (ibid. § 258).

What belongs to nuance, what to grammar? Is the test whether something can be stated in rules? (Can a poem's affective nuances be stated in rules? There are formulas, but they are no guarantee.) [BACK]

Note 6a: Are Wittgenstein's "family resemblances" the same as his use of Russell's "theory of descriptions" (PI § 79)? Wittgenstein's "family resemblances" is no more than a corollary -- or even an "in other words" -- of Russell's theory. Neither identifies the essence, i.e. common nature, of the things named.

Neither the theory of abstraction nor Plato's theory of Forms defines common names. Their preconceived idea is that common names are not "really" meaningless (i.e. essence-less). They are metaphysics, not logic. Wittgenstein's "theory of family resemblances", in contrast, describes things in plain view (i.e. what is verifiable); these things are not common natures.

Metaphysics, not logic, is about what is presumed to be hidden from view or, in other words, suprasensible. It is the philosophy of preconceptions versus "facts in plain view" philosophy (if the latter is philosophy and not just logic of language).

The view of common names of the Mediaeval philosophers shows in what way metaphysics is different from logic of language.

... whether genera and species are subsistent entities [i.e. whether classes and subclasses exist extra-mentally] or whether they consist in concepts alone; if subsisting, whether they are material or immaterial and, further, whether they are separate from sensible objects or not. (Copleston, A History of Philosophy, Volume II (1950), XIV, 2)

The essence of metaphysics, of what we call by the name 'metaphysics', is that it is speculative and preconceived. It wants to go beyond the facts in plain view because those facts do not provide the kind of explanation it demands. In contrast, the facts in plain view are just what and all that Wittgenstein's logic of language wants. Verification by experience is part of Socrates' method, not of the method of Plato. [BACK]

8. Three kinds of rules of grammar: Reported, Invented, Assigned

The "rules of the game" play varied roles in games. (1) Sometimes the rules are explicitly referred to in the course of play. (2) At other times the players may be only vaguely aware of the rules, although they will be able if asked to state the rules or to teach someone else how to play the game. (3) And sometimes the players will not be able to state the rules, although they play the game more or less well enough; with respect to language, this is most often the case with psychological words, e.g. 'hope', 'love', 'sorrow', and what are confusedly called abstract terms (or "names of abstract objects"), e.g. 'concept', 'time', 'elf', 'mind'.

The rules of the language game -- i.e. the rules of grammar -- in philosophical investigations fall into three broad categories.

Reported usage rules

(1) First, there are the rules we derive from examples of actual uses of language signs (e.g. Wittgenstein's examples of games, which show that the meaning of the word 'game' is not a common nature). These will be more or less plausible statements of fact that any speaker of the language will admit to be true (Z § 211; PI § 599). For instance, that by the word 'thunder' we mean 'noise in the clouds', or that by 'flows' we sometimes mean the movement of a river.

Counterfactual rules

(2) Second, there are the rules of grammar we invent for the fictitious language games we create in order to compare those fictions with actual "language games". These fictitious objects of comparison alter very general facts of nature, e.g. to imagine a world in which all human beings are born blind -- How will their use of the word 'know' differ from ours?

Imagine people who could only think aloud. (As there are people who can only read aloud.) (PI § 331)

[Consider the] procedure of putting a lump of cheese on a balance and fixing the price by the turn of the scale ... [But what] if it frequently happened for such lumps to suddenly grow or shrink for no obvious reason. (cf. ibid. § 142)

Or suppose that disputes about the results of simple calculations in arithmetic frequently broke out among adults (cf. ibid. II, xi, p. 225). What would language be like in such circumstances?

Inventing fictions sometimes shows us the foundations of our concepts -- because if we "imagine certain very general facts of nature to be different from what we are used to ... the formation of concepts different from the usual ones will become intelligible to" us (ibid. II, xii, p. 230b; cf. ibid. § 497b, RPP i § 46-48, Z § 350).

The only limit of concept-formation is imagination (logical possibility).

Assigned meanings

(3) The third category of grammatical rules are the rules we invent (assign) to resolve philosophical perplexity. When a word is commonly used equivocally or vaguely (i.e. when a word is a blunt tool we can do no work with), we may assign a particular meaning to that word, as e.g. Wittgenstein does with the word 'nonsense' in his later work , although that word is not commonly used in such a limited way (Normally that word is often equivalent in meaning to 'foolishness').

Sometimes we may make a rule to resolve vagueness, e.g. as a rule that the word 'truth' is only to be applied to statements of fact or that by the word 'concept' we mean 'a set of rules' -- although at other times, the simple recognition that there is no rule will be the only resolution our perplexity needs -- if only we see this.

9. Concepts with clearly-defined versus vaguely-defined borders. Concept fluidity.

Our concepts are "fluid" -- as opposed to having well-defined borders; e.g. water is fluid but ice is not. Our concepts have more or less "blurred edges". These are similes Wittgenstein invented. They mean that any definition of a sign that we give -- or have given to us -- does not tell us how the sign is to be used in every imaginable case (PI §§ 68, 71). To define a word is to set limits, to more or less mark the boundaries, to is its use (or application).

Generally, we don't use language according to fixed rules, neither was it taught us that way. (cf. BB p. 25, PI § 292, OC § 139)

We are unable clearly to circumscribe the concepts we use; not because we don't know their real definition, but because there is no real "definition" to them. (BB p. 25)

Recall that a game with fixed rules, e.g. a game like chess (or arithmetic), is what Wittgenstein compares language to. But our use of language is often more unlike playing such a game than like playing one.

In discussing verbal and real definitions we accepted that 'thunder' means 'noise in the clouds'. But must clouds be present to justify calling an event thunder; must lightening be present? You don't know? The question is grammatical: what would anyone need to know in order to answer that question? More facts about a phenomenon, namely thunder -- or a rule for using a word, namely the word 'thunder'?

What would be the source of that rule -- would it necessarily be the phenomenon itself? Is thunder the cause of lightening or is lightening the cause of thunder (or is neither the cause of the other)? Alice seems not to know (Through the Looking-Glass, ix), nor need she know in order to use the word 'thunder' correctly -- because as we normally use the word 'thunder', that word is not defined by the cause of the phenomenon. We learn to use the word 'thunder' in the presence of the phenomenon we call 'thunder' -- and that is as far as the explanation of the meaning of that word goes.

A grammatical reminder (Concept indefiniteness)

There is no rule to answer every question we might ask about the grammatical meaning of the word 'thunder' or other names of phenomena. Wittgenstein said that his grammatical remarks are reminders, and the remarks here are a reminder that in many cases the use of a word is not everywhere defined by rules (PI §§ 84-85). The boundaries of the everyday concept 'thunder', for example, are vague, indefinite, rather than well-defined (Natural science may assign strict limits, but our natural language does not).

There is another, although distinct, kind of case where "If I don't know how to go on, a rule must be made to tell me how to continue", a rule no one foresaw the need for. Examples are algebraic equation and the Paradox of the Cretan Liar.

"Indefinite boundary"

Is a child's throwing a ball into the air and catching it to be called (classified as) a game? There is no rule. (PI §§ 69, 83) Or is it that "whenever children play with a ball they play a game according to strict rules"? ( p. 25)

In most cases, at what point the border guards will fire is indefinite. But can it be that they will never fire if you try to cross the frontier: Is "a game with no rules" what we call a 'game'? (If there is a difference between language with meaning and language without meaning: what is that difference?)

The meaning of a name is often learned in the presence of the bearer of the name (ostensively)

Children are not given a verbal definition of the word 'thunder'. They learn to use that word in the presence of thunder -- i.e. the word 'thunder' is taught ostensively. And that is as far as the invariable explanation of meaning goes in this case. What children learn is a fluid concept.

Grammar and things that never happen

Friedrich Waismann [cf. OC § 513] imagined that a cat grew to the size of a house and began barking -- was such a creature still to be called a 'cat'? But should it surprise us that grammatical rules do not exist to cover things that in fact never happen (PI § 87)? Grammar has no aim but language, and our language no aim but to be a tool in our hands. (ibid. §§ 80, 497)

It is a very general fact of nature (ibid. II, xii, p. 230a) that such things do not happen. Our concepts do their work within our actual life, not in every set of circumstances we may dream of. Or again: our language has its place, is at home (ibid. § 116), in our life only (Z § 173).

Natural language is far from chess-like, despite logic making that comparison

... are we to say that we don't really attach any meaning to this word, because we are not equipped with rules for every possible application of it? (PI § 80)

... in philosophy we often compare the use of words with games and calculi which have fixed rules, but cannot say that someone who is using language must be playing such a game. (ibid. § 81)

Wittgenstein's comparison or "analogy between language and games" (PI § 83) doesn't require that the use of language -- i.e. of signs (spoken sounds, ink marks on paper, hand gestures, figures in the sand, the physical aspect of language only) -- follow strict rules (as most games, including primitive language games, do) if it isn't to be nonsense (mere noise, scribble). There is no "must" in Wittgenstein's grammar, but instead only descriptions of the facts in plain view.

The ideal [namely a game played according to strict rules] loses none of its dignity if it is presented as the principle determining the form of one's approach. A good unit of measurement [an object of comparison]. (CV (1980) p. 27 [CV (1998 rev. ed.) [MS 157b 15v: 1937]])

Grammar does not tell us how language must be constructed ... It only describes and in no way explains the use of signs. (PI § 496)

Explanation = speculative accounting for the facts, in this context. It is exemplified by the theory of abstraction, that by a mysterious induction and abstraction, the result of which cannot be put into words, common natures or essences are known by the mind, which shares Plato's preconception that the meaning of a common name must be a common nature.

In contrast, the use of language that is in plain view is the meaning of language, the meaning grammar describes as if it were describing the rules of a game, regardless of what those rules are found to be. That is the definition of 'meaning' Wittgenstein chose for philosophy.

Rules as a standard (objectivity)

But how can Wittgenstein make an objective distinction between sense and nonsense if language use doesn't follow strict rules -- for aren't strict rules what make meaning objective? It appears that question is devastating to Wittgenstein's project in philosophy.

"But then the use of the word is unregulated; the "game" we play with it is unregulated." -- It is not everywhere circumscribed by rules. Can you point out the boundary? No. You can draw one; but none has so far been drawn. (PI § 68)

That is how Wittgenstein's project in philosophy differs from Plato's method of preconceptions. What is objective is whether or not there is a rule. That is how we make the distinction between sense and nonsense. Many or most of our concepts are open-bordered ("the concept is not closed by a frontier") (ibid. § 68), and this somewhat sets limits to their usefulness as tools for reasoning, and yet we do use them for reasoning soundly within those limits, if we see those limits. Beyond that, however --

Should it be said that I am using a word whose meaning I don't know, and so am talking nonsense? -- Say what you choose, so long as it does not prevent you from seeing the facts. (ibid. § 79)

"Seeing the facts" is all logic wants to do, to point out the presence or absence of boundaries. "And when you see [the facts of our language use] there is a good deal that you will [no longer presume about our language]" (ibid.).

But describing the grammar in common use of our vocabulary is not always the end of philosophy, because sometimes in philosophy -- in order to clear up conceptual confusion -- we may draw boundaries that do not exist in normal practice (cf. Z § 466).

Because grammar is only a clarifying tool in philosophy. It is not philosophy itself, and it is not philosophy's only tool. Others are e.g. Socrates' method of seeking contradictions in meaning by cross-questioning claims to knowledge and Wittgenstein's method of showing the confusion misleading syntactic analogies cause in philosophy.

"Analytic propositions"

Can a parakeet give birth to a giraffe? Cratylus 393b-c: "Can a horse give birth to a calf (baby cow), or is any offspring of a horse a foal (baby horse)?" That is a grammatical question, i.e. it asks for a rule for using a word, not for an hypothesis about a phenomenon.

"The offspring of a cow is a cow, regardless of whether it is in all other respects a horse." The analytic question (namely "Can a cow give birth ...?") seems to be about metaphysical possibility, because logical possibility (imagination) is not about truth. ("It is not biologically possible" would be an hypothesis, not a proposition knowable independently of experience.)

The difficulty with the "analytic proposition" account of language meaning is that it seeks to define words by introspection, i.e. subjectively -- (Wittgenstein said "they let the words speak to them") -- to find "whatever seems right" (PI § 258) rather than define words objectively by the public rules for their use. (Further: defining words by pondering.)

Plato's question is not answered by musing, but by asking whether there are rules of grammar for events that, although they can be described, never happen. And so if 'analytic proposition' is defined as 'a proposition that is known to be true solely through an analysis of its ideas rather than through experience' and 'a proposition the contradiction of which must be false', then the proposition 'The offspring of a cow is a cow' is not an analytic proposition, because, as we normally use our language, (1) as a report of grammar it is a fiction (because there is no such rule), and (2) as a statement of fact it is simply undefined language (because there is no defined test of the proposition's truth). [Note 7a]

Vagueness and Impressions of Meaning

How many houses must there be for the word 'town' or 'city' to be correctly applied to a place? (PI § 18) What, you don't know? But surely you speak English. Why can't you define these common English words?

How would we teach a child to use those words? Is there something you yourself know that you can't tell the child? (ibid. § 69) No, every explanation of meaning you can give yourself, you can give to the child too (ibid. § 210). We often say the words 'town' and 'city' -- don't we know what we are talking about; are those word "mere sound without sense"?

When we look for a rule and find that there is none, we can only note the absence of a rule -- or invent a rule.

Inventing a rule is what the writers of reference books do when they define the word 'city' based on number of houses ("Population centers of more than x number of houses are to be classified as cities"); they invent a standard. That standard is not a rule we normally follow in using the word 'city', but a rule can be made for a specific purpose, such as a system of classification.

To teach a child to use the words 'town' and 'city', we might use a picture book. But will it always be clear to us whether a given picture is of a city rather than of a town -- will we always know what to tell the child? For 'city' we might point to skyscrapers, but must all cities have very tall buildings, e.g. is Florence not a city? (That would be a request for a definition, a further explanation of meaning, of the word 'city'. But no such further rule exists.) What shall we tell the child? Well, what did we tell the child about thunder and lightening?

Common names that are defined ostensively do not belong to the first class of cases Wittgenstein cites in the following quotation; they belong to the class of names and bearers, the second paragraph of the quotation.

Meaning as use in the language (or not)

For a large class of cases -- though not for all -- in which we employ the word 'meaning' it can be defined thus: the meaning of a word is its use in the language.

And the meaning of a name is sometimes explained by pointing to its bearer. (PI § 43; cf. the nominalist definition of 'meaning')

The class of words whose meanings are explained by rules for using them is the class of words whose use in our language is not that of ostensively defined names of objects. It is the logic of language of that large class that is misunderstood, that generates philosophical confusion when we try to make analogies from the name-bearer class to the use-in-the-language class (I gave the example of 'book' and 'mind'; Wittgenstein-Augustine: 'river' and 'time').

When in philosophy we (or Wittgenstein) invent a rule to clear up conceptual confusion -- i.e. when we assign borders to (redefine) the grammar of a vague or cloudy concept, we mustn't imagine that we have somehow discovered the concept-sign's true meaning. The rules we make in philosophical investigations belong only to those investigations, and they are only made for the purpose of resolving perplexity that would continue were it not for the new rule. And what we have done is to make -- i.e. invent -- a rule, a meaning, not discover one that already existed.

[Philosophy's] aim is to remove particular misunderstandings; not to produce a real understanding for the first time. (PG i § 72, p. 115)

Our investigation does not try to find the real, exact meaning of words; though we often do give words exact meanings in the course of our investigation. (Z § 467)

"Let the use teach you the meaning"

In Wittgenstein's logic of language, the meaning of a natural language sign is the work we use it to do in our life (BB p. 69), and therefore if we want to describe (or give an account of) that meaning we must describe our way of life. However, that is exactly the opposite of what we do in philosophy, e.g. with words like 'mind' and 'time'. We imagine that their meaning is "analytic", discovered by analyzing a disembodied concept -- i.e. a concept-word divorced from its use in our life. Our presumption: "Language follows thought and thought follows things" (Copleston), and that it is those "things", e.g. mind and time, that philosophy is about (Indeed, it is only in this portrayal of language that the words 'mind' and 'time' are names of things at all). But it is false grammatical account that kidnaps words away from the use in our life that gives them meaning. (PI § 116)

One cannot guess how a word functions. One has to look at its use and learn from that .... Let the use teach you the meaning. (ibid. § 340; II, xi, p. 212).

"Impressionistic Meaning"

Sometimes we feel that we have only an impression of a word's meaning, the meaning of the word 'gentleman', for example. "What does the word 'gentleman' suggest to you?" We sometimes answer "I think of a gentleman as being ..." or "A gentleman to me is ..." As if this were a question of defining something familiar -- but a bit cloudy -- that was difficult to grasp hold of, rather than of defining a word: "What is a gentleman?" versus "How is the word 'gentleman' used in our language?"

One would like to say: whatever is going to seem right to me is right. And that only means that here we can't talk about "right". (PI § 258)

We could call this the 'impressionistic meaning' of a word. It is not the meaning of the word 'meaning' used by Wittgenstein's logic of language.

What a word suggests to someone's imagination is not a definition in logic -- a word may suggest many different things to many different people, and if that were the meaning of 'meaning' logic used, then there would be no objective distinction between sense and nonsense, because none of those "meanings" would (or, indeed, could) be incorrect. (To 'define' is to 'set limits': Where there are no limits to mark off what is incorrect, there is no grammatical definition.)

Logic asks for the public rules that are followed by all speakers of the language when using a word (cf. BB p. 65). These rules are in many cases sketchy (PI §§ 79, 88). But they are the rules we live and think by, and they are what Wittgenstein used to define the word 'meaning' (the tool of his logic that he called 'grammar').

Induction and Definition and Impressions of Meaning

The form of expression 'What is some thing?' (e.g. What is a city? What is a gentleman?) may point the way deeper into confusion rather than the way out. "I would say that piety is ..." as in Plato's Euthyphro, with the difference that Socrates puts Euthyphro's impressions to the test to see if they are everywhere consistent with what Euthyphro believes about the gods (Of course this presumes that Euthyphro's beliefs aren't themselves cloudy). And this may show what Euthyphro means by the word 'piety'.

What Socratic induction, from the point of view of logic of language, does is to seek the boundaries of our concepts, e.g. 'piety', because those limits belong to the description of a word's normal use in the language, the use which "anyone knows and must admit" (Z § 211). Thus a grammatical definition may begin with examining impressions of meaning, but it cannot end there.

Note that it is the boundaries of our concepts that induction may discover. An abstract term ('piety') is not the name of an abstract object (piety) that can be known independently of the definition of a word, as if the boundaries of a phenomenon existed before they were drawn by language. Induction does not discover the natural boundaries of phenomena (because they do not exist).

Natural language and the concept 'game'. Tolerance for vagueness

Learning one's native language is learning concepts that are some more, some less, definite. 'Stand roughly over there!' (PI § 71) is intentionally vague, but we would not say the same about the grammar of 'game'. The indefiniteness of the grammar of that word arose as part of our natural history (ibid. § 18), and that indefiniteness just has to be accepted as "the given" in the equation of the word's grammar (ibid. II, xi, p. 226).

Learning a natural language may be learning to accept concept indefiniteness, acquiring a tolerance for many kinds and degrees of vagueness -- or it may mean acquiring deep and abiding perplexity.

Concepts, Order and Chaos

... facts of nature that can explain concept-formation. (PI II, xii, p. 230)

We would hardly say that solitaire (patience) and table tennis belong in the same category based on their compelling similarities or "family resemblances". (But recall that concepts define phenomena, not phenomena concepts; phenomena without concepts are blind; unconceptualized phenomena are chaos.) Yet table tennis and solitaire both are in the category 'game' -- according to the grammar of the word 'game' we inherited when we inherited our language. What more do we know about it?

Suppose we did not have a word 'game' or 'games'. Suppose what we call "card games" were simply called 'cards', and games that were played with rackets, e.g. tennis and badminton, were simply called 'rackets'. Then we would have two entirely distinct categories, {rackets} and {cards}. Would we then feel compelled by the facts to join those two categories together under a broader category (i.e. to invent a further category 'game')?

'... that can explain the formation of concepts' -- It's not clear what 'explain' would mean. What we can do is to describe the concepts we actually have and how they might be different. But can any facts of nature ("percepts") compel us to form particular concepts? (Ockham thought so.) There may seem to be a few such concepts, e.g. 'object' and 'space' and 'movement' or 'change' -- but are those forced on us by the nature of things or by the nature of our own mind?

Our inherited language would be "the ancient city of language" (ibid. § 18), in contrast to the newer suburbs where, as in the natural sciences, the inventors of the new language purposively give their terms essential ("one thing common to all") definitions. But the oldest parts of the city of language were built up naturally, with twists and turns as the need arose. And it is in the ancient city, according to Wittgenstein, where all the problems of philosophy arise.

The grammar of the word 'beautiful' versus Aesthetics

Are there meaningful signs without grammars? No -- not as 'grammar' is defined in Wittgenstein's jargon. But there are grammars (descriptions of use in the language) that contain no rules. E.g. the grammar of 'beautiful'. No rules can be given for its application, nor can its application be justified by "family resemblances" (as can be done in the case of e.g. 'chair'). "E is beautiful. -- Why? -- Because it resembles A, B, C, and D." No, the concept 'beautiful' doesn't work that way.

But don't we sometimes give reasons for saying that something is beautiful? Certainly. But must anyone find those reasons compelling -- i.e. agree that those reasons force one to apply the word 'beautiful' in this case? No, the grammar of the word isn't like that.

As children we are taught (given) aesthetic judgments. "Doesn't my little girl look beautiful with ribbons in her hair. Look at yourself in the mirror." But in later years the girl can point to a picture from that day of her childhood and say, "Didn't I look horrible!"

The 'can' above is grammatical (i.e. it "belongs to everything descriptive of the language"). If we are to give an account of the way the word 'beautiful' is used in our life, then this is what we find.

Greek sculptors did make rules for carving "beautiful" bodies [Note 8], and here we can give grammatical rules for the application of the word 'beautiful'. But they will not belong to the rules of the grammar that describes our use of that word; i.e. the Greek sculptors' concept is not our concept 'beautiful'. Anyone can respond: "Those idealized propositions are not beautiful." The justification for such a response is that: the speaker's native language is English, and English grammar allows that judgment -- i.e. it is not nonsense.

"Most people find these sculptures beautiful." -- But is that how we learned to apply the word 'beautiful', by appealing to the judgments of "most people", by taking a vote? That would be a concept 'beautiful' (i.e. a grammar for the word 'beautiful') -- but it is not ours. (Cf. Z § 431)

But mustn't people agree in their aesthetic judgments; how could we have a concept 'beautiful' if they did not? It is a fact of natural history that people living in a given place and time usually do agree. And if it were not this way, then we would not have the concept that we do have. (ibid. § 351)

But aren't there cases where people must agree? E.g. we don't call just anything a 'chair'. "Anyone knows and must admit that this is an example of a chair" (cf. ibid. § 211). Concepts are only either more or less well-defined. 'Beautiful' is one extreme.

Concept-formation ('beautiful', 'pretty', 'lovely')

What is pretty cannot be beautiful. -- (CV p. 42, remark from 1942)

If I say that something is pretty, I will not also say that it is beautiful. A pretty face, for example. But how I decide what is pretty, what is beautiful, is beyond me: there are no grammatical rules to follow. None whatever. You learn very young from examples, but what examples teach you isn't put into words -- can't be put into words, i.e. can't be put into rules: we would not recognize our concepts if it were. (Certainly nothing Wittgenstein wrote can account for, or even suggests an explanation of concept-formation in this case.)

Grammar without rules

The word 'grammar' means "any explanation of the use of language" (in Wittgenstein's jargon), that is, a definition, and therefore there may be many kinds of definitions.

If we want to say that 'beautiful' is a sign "without a grammar" or an "indefinable sign", that is because we see that an account of its grammar made by analogy to other "parts of speech" will be a false account -- and because we have a too limited concept 'definition'.

The meaning of the word 'beautiful' is shown by the way of life of those who use the word 'beautiful', e.g. in their attitude towards the things they call 'beautiful'. For some times and places 'beautiful' has amounted to no more than a "gush word". For others, e.g. the German Romantic Movement, it has been at the center of life.

"How words are understood is not told by words alone" (Z § 144). -- But also by the difference they make in the way human beings live. Concepts not only "direct our interest" -- they are also "the expression of our interest" (PI § 570). [Note 9]

In order to get clear about aesthetic words you have to describe ways of living. What belongs to a language game is a whole culture. (LC p. 11, 8)

Various ways of life could possibly be shown on stage (cf. "play-acted definitions"). However, this might require not one scene, one act, but many scenes, acts. It would not be an account given in rules, and we would not naturally call it a definition (although that would be its function: an explanation of meaning).

Distinction between the concepts 'grammar' and 'logic' made clearer

Is 'beauty' a word without a grammar? That depends on how broadly we want to define the word (how broad we want to make the concept) 'grammar'. Words are our tools. What work do we want to do with the word 'grammar'?

The question in this particular case isn't whether there are rules -- there are none -- but whether we can even give a description of how the word 'beauty' or 'beautiful' is used. But isn't that what we have done above? Go back to G.E. Moore's account of Wittgenstein's jargon: "any explanation of the use of language" is "grammar". But not every explanation of meaning includes giving rules.

If, as I said, by 'logic' Wittgenstein means 'the study of rules', then there are words that have a "grammar" but do not have a "logic" in his jargon. So that what I called "Wittgenstein's identification of logic with grammar" should instead be: his partial identification of those two concepts -- i.e. his redefinitions of the words, or revisions of the concepts, 'grammar' and 'logic'.

Acquiring the concept 'beautiful' as an example of a way or "form of life"

Imagine we wanted to explain the concept 'beauty' or 'the beautiful' to someone who did not have that concept -- that is to say to someone who did not know how to use the word 'beautiful' in our language, who did not know that word's meaning.

We could point to something, to paintings of a beautiful girl sitting in a chair, e.g. Fragonard's A Young Girl Reading or Renoir's La Première Sortie, but no one need understand what we are pointing to; someone might reply, "Yes, I see, a girl. I see a chair. But I do not see this third thing you call 'beautiful'." We might point to the girl's eyes, her brow, the color and freshness of her skin, her hair, her chin, the shape of her face and the line of her jaw, but those are only facts and beauty isn't a fact; it is a response.

And we couldn't say that the girl was "lovely to look at" or "very pleasing to the eye", because, although we use each of those expressions slightly differently, 'lovely' and so on are grammatically analogous to 'beautiful' or 'beauty' -- i.e. they have a similar rule-less grammar. If someone doesn't have the one concept, presumably he is not going to have the others either.

The concept 'the beautiful'

That is what is logically interesting about the word 'beautiful' or 'beauty', despite Wittgenstein's dismissal of it as an unimportant word in aesthetics. Because it is a very good example of a human form of life that one cannot participate in unless one has the concept 'beauty' and the way to acquire this concept isn't simply by learning rules of a game (cf. suppose a lion tried to acquire our concept 'humor').

If we want to explain the meaning of 'beauty', we have to point to examples -- but we must do this with many or most other words as well. The difference is that here one cannot point to universal models that must be admitted by anyone who speaks the language, e.g. bridge is a model card game. That is why this word 'beautiful', the grammar of it, is interesting to logic of language. (In Socrates' context, you could say that we know that bridge is a card game, but we don't know that the girl in the painting is beautiful.)

Because contrast the case of 'beautiful' with teaching someone the concept 'game', where we can point to an objective list of games -- i.e. to a list of what everyone who has learned English calls 'games' -- e.g. tennis ("ball and net games"), checkers ("board games"), and so on.

But even in this example, acquiring the concept 'game' requires more than just memorizing a list and being able to point to similarities between the members of that list -- you must also be able to add new games to the list. What do we call "catching on" in elementary algebra -- e.g. learning to use x the unknown -- you have to be able to find the x in problems you have not seen before, not just in those you have. ("To understand a language [game] means to be master of a technique" (PI § 199).)

Endnotes Chapter 9

Note 7:

Is the outcome the point of a game?

Is even the game of chess everywhere bounded by rules, because there is no rule about whether the chess pieces are to moved with the right hand or the left hand. What would be the point of such a rule? What is the point of the rule that a bishop may not move through occupied squares? (Because that game can be imagined too.)

A rule for moving the bishop (and the other chessmen) is essential to chess; a rule for which hand the bishop is moved with is not. How do I know what is pointless? Which hand the bishop is moved with does not affect the outcome of the game, and in chess the outcome of the game is the point.

But if a game is played "just for fun" without keeping score, as table tennis may be, is it then not a game? (The green grocer imagined above would not be amused by a language game like that.)

Chess with Bishop's Option: player may move his bishop through squares occupied by his own pawns -- but he must sacrifice his pawns to do this, as if he were a feudal nobleman riding over his own serfs in battle. (Other imaginary options.)

[BACK]

Note 7a:

Analytic judgments are those in which the predicate is contained, at least implicitly, in the concept of the subject. They are said to be "explicative judgments" [Kant, Critique of Pure Reason B, 11; A, 7] because the predicate does not add to the concept of the subject anything which is not already contained in it ... [The] truth [of analytic judgments or propositions] depends on the law of contradiction [because we] cannot deny [an analytic] proposition without involving ourselves in logical contradiction. Kant cites as an example "all bodies are extended" [for] the idea of extension is contained in the idea of body. [As an example of a judgment that is not analytic, Kant cites "all bodies are heavy"] for the idea of weight or heaviness is not contained in the concept of body as such. (Copleston, A History of Philosophy, Volume VI, XI, 3)

How does Kant know that "all bodies are extended", because according to Euclid a geometric point is a body without extension? Is the judgment "all extension is bodily" analytic, because Descartes said "there can be no extension which is extension of nothing", and yet Pascal demonstrated the existence of vacuums, which are extensions of nothing? "How do you know?" That is the problem with Kant's concept 'analytic proposition'. [BACK]

Note 8: the fine art historian Kenneth Clark (1903-1983) wrote:

One of the few classical canons of proportion of which we can be certain is that which, in a female nude, took the same unit of measurement for the distance between the breasts, the distance from the lower breast to the naval, and again from the naval to the division of the legs. This scheme we shall find carefully maintained in all figures of the classical epoch ..." (The Nude: a study in ideal form (1956), i)

Ethics and Aesthetics contrasted

Ethics and aesthetics are different in this respect: in ethics we can give a list of rules, and if a person follows those rules, we say that the person is, as we often use the word 'good', by definition (i.e. rules of the game) a good person. But if we did the same thing in aesthetics, if we gave a set of rules to someone (such as the Greek rule for modeling the female nude), even if the person followed those rules, the person would not necessarily produce something artistically worthwhile, a good work of art. Art is unpredictable.

Again, although in both ethics and aesthetics we make judgments of worth (value), in ethics our judgments are applicable before the fact (before the deed is done), whereas in aesthetics our judgments are only applicable after the fact (of a work's creation). In aesthetics we may point to facts about an artwork to justify our judgment, but those facts can only be pointed to after the fact (of the work's creation), not beforehand as in ethics. (Using the expression 'value' in both ethics and aesthetics does not make their relationship clearer. Is aesthetics about values?)

Similar to art in this way is natural language: we can state formulas (rules of syntax) for the creation of English sentences, but following those rules is no guarantee that we won't create nonsense ("worthless" language).

Wittgenstein's account of Aesthetics

If Wittgenstein's remarks about aesthetics are different from most else of his logic of language, this is because in aesthetics the focus is barely on the use made of language and almost entirely on circumstances in our life in which aesthetic judgments are made, and aesthetic judgments can be made, in many instances, without the use of words at all.

We are concentrating, not on the words 'good' or 'beautiful', which are entirely uncharacteristic, generally just subject and predicate ('This is beautiful'), but on the occasions on which they are said -- on the enormously complicated situation in which the aesthetic expression has a place, in which the expression itself has almost a negligible place. (LC p. 2)

The response to art, pictures, music, as to natural phenomena, sky, shore, flowers, beautiful women, is immediate and more or less intense. Of course a first impression may not be the same as the last judgment one makes, but is this "enormously complicated"? Subtler things haven't a place in most lives. [BACK]

Note 9:

Strange that whole epochs cannot free themselves from the grips of certain concepts, 'beautiful' and 'beauty' e.g. (CV p. 79, remark from 1949)

But Franz Schubert's aim in composing music was precisely to "attain beauty", which was the ideal he shared with his companions in art. Would the work they composed have been different had that not been their ideal? There is much in our life that is ugly, deformed and sick, and art can also portray this too.

The beautiful is not unequivocally the good

Dostoyevsky characterized the Incarnation as "beauty coming into the world". But it says in Isaiah that the messiah ("the suffering servant") was not beautiful: "there was no beauty in him". What Dostoyevsky meant was goodness came into the world. But he always compared a "beautiful" -- i.e. good -- soul to a beautiful body, e.g. the Sistine Madonna in Dresden.

That is a different example of being in "the grips of" a concept, for about Dostoyevsky's metaphor it is possible to say that Romanticism undermines ethics by confusing beauty with goodness.

Of course Wittgenstein's remark might be directed back at him: how strange that certain epochs or individuals cannot free themselves from the grip of certain concepts, e.g. 'God', which was a concept Wittgenstein could not "free himself from the grips of".

"Concept-blindness"

What must the man be called, who cannot understand the concept 'God', cannot see how a reasonable man may use this word seriously? Are we to say he suffers from some blindness? (RPP i § 213)

The discussion above brings out that we are talking about "ways of life" and thought, about the role concepts play in our life, directing and expressing our interests (PI § 570). [BACK]

10. Meaning as a "Usage"

The relation between grammar and sense and nonsense is shown by this: that a sign -- a spoken sound, an ink mark on paper -- as such is without meaning. What gives the sign meaning? (Z § 143; PI §§ 431-432)

Wittgenstein's logic is a study of rules of sense and nonsense undertaken to solve philosophical problems, but its foundation is a definition, a way of setting limits or boundaries to the concepts 'sense' ('meaning') and 'nonsense' ('sounds or marks without sense').

To the question "What gives a sign meaning?" Wittgenstein answers: the sign's role in our language, which means its role in our life. The description of that role is the sign's grammar or meaning. "Only in the stream of life has language meaning" (Malcolm, Memoir (1984), p. 75). To divorce a sign from our life (its "original home" (PI § 116)) is to divorce it from its meaning. (Is that a definition of 'meaning', or a statement of fact? To be a statement of fact it would have to be a true description of our normal use of the word 'meaning'; what it is not is a statement of what the meaning of language "really" is.)

In the discussion of the distinction between a sign and the meaning of a sign", the word 'sign' was defined as: the spoken sounds, ink marks on paper (ibid. § 431) lines in sand, gestures (Z § 651, e.g. a movement of the hand, a shrug of the shoulders), and so on of language.

But to give a true account of Wittgenstein's use of the word 'meaning' a further determination of the grammar of 'sign' needs to be made, e.g. by inventing some jargon and making a distinction between a conventional sign (acceptation) and an arbitrary sign. (Other names for 'conventional sign' would be 'established sign' or 'defined sign'.)

By 'conventional sign' I will mean: a sign with a use in our language that has been well-established by common practice; this can be called our 'common grammar' (or 'grammar held in common') of a sign. And by 'arbitrary sign' I will mean an entirely arbitrary combination of sounds or ink marks, e.g. of letters of our alphabet. 'The man walks' can serve as an example of the former and 'zympt' as an extreme example of the latter.

Whereas we can state that the meaning of the sign 'zympt' will depend entirely on how we choose to use or define that sign, if we are to give a true account of our language, then we cannot say the same about 'The man walks'. To begin to see why, imagine the following cross-questioning in a court of law:

Lawyer: You earlier testified that on Thursday afternoon you saw Mr. Anselm walking in the park. But now you say that what you saw was Mr. Anselm standing behind the trees, looking out towards the path.

Witness: Yes, what I meant was that he was sort of walking.

Lawyer: I suggest that your previous testimony was false, and that what you now describe as Mr. Anselm's behavior is not what anyone calls 'walking' -- "sort of" or otherwise.

What the we can say is that our concept 'walking' (i.e. the grammar of that sign) is fluid -- but not that fluid. The word 'walking' is a "conventional sign" of our language, and for that word to be meaningfully applied -- and not meaningless noise -- new applications of that word must resemble (to a greater rather than a lesser extent) established applications of that word, such e.g. as strolling or putting one foot in front of the other. Must -- why must?

Is "Caprice" a possible game?

If we compare language to games, where what interests us about a game is its rules, ask yourself if it is possible to play a game where everyone "makes up the rules as they go along", changing them at the slightest whim. Of course there might be such a game; call it Caprice. Begin Caprice anywhere and end it anywhere; do what you like whenever you like. But now, can we suppose that Caprice were the only game that is ever played? (PI § 199)

A capricious -- i.e. arbitrary -- i.e. undefined -- language would be no language at all; it would be meaningless sounds and ink marks. That is the connection between rules and meaning (sense and nonsense) (OC § 61-62).

Were language a game without rules, telling lies would not be possible -- nor would telling the truth. The lawyer assumes that the witness knows the rules of the game -- the language game with the word 'walking' -- and that the lawyer has caught the witness "cheating", i.e. not following those rules; the lawyer assumes that everyone who has learned our language will recognize this. And the lawyer has the right to make these assumptions -- because English is a language, not just a collection of sounds or marks.

What interests logic is not what a word suggests to a particular individual, because then a word might have countless "meanings", but how the word must be used by everyone who knows the language -- i.e. logic asks for our held-in-common rules for a word's use (the word's normal use in the language), because it is by means of those rules that we distinguish sense from nonsense objectively (verifiably).

Grammar is a Normal School

"I don't know what you mean by 'glory,'" Alice said.

Humpty Dumpty smiled contemptuously. "Of course you don't -- till I tell you. I meant 'there's a nice knock-down argument for you!'"

But 'glory' doesn't mean 'a nice knock-down argument,'" Alice objected.

If the rules of Humpty Dumpty's language (Through the Looking-Glass, vi) were the same as the rules of Caprice, then his language would not be a language, because it would consist only of signs (in this case, sounds) that were impossible to define, 'impossible' because their "meaning" would depend solely on Humpty Dumpty's whim of the moment. A language whose grammar were in constant flux would not be a language. Grammar (rules, definitions) requires regularness, stability.

The Stoic "lekton"

The meaning (lekton) is what the Greek understands but the barbarians do not, although they hear the sound, when Greek is spoken. (Sextus Empiricus, Adv. Math. viii, 11-12)

The Greek 'understands' (the single-quotes here mean this is a definition) because he knows the rules of the game, as in "language game", 'knows' because he is able to play the game.

The relation between recurrent behavior and grammar

The grammar of our language does consist of conventions -- but not of "mere conventions". The grammatical conventions of our language are not merely rules that are tossed up and let drop, but rules that have been established day after day -- usually for years and years, often for all our lives. This becomes especially clear if we consider the "language games" with words that Wittgenstein considered in the philosophy of psychology, words such as 'sorrowful' and 'hopeful' (words whose grammar might be play acted as an explanation of meaning).

"Form of Life"

The term 'language game' is meant to bring into prominence the fact that the speaking of language is part of an activity, or a form of life. (PI § 23) To imagine a language means to imagine a form of life. (ibid. § 19)

A "form of life" or way that human beings live considered as a "custom, usage, institution" (ibid. § 199), or as natural history: a persistent pattern of human life, which may either be dictated by nature or, in some cases, chosen.

The word 'sorrow' is applied to a pattern which recurs, with different variations, in our life.

If someone's bodily expression of sorrow and of joy alternated, say with the ticking of a clock, we would not have here the characteristic formation of the pattern of sorrow. (cf. ibid. II, i, p. 174)

Imagine a man who wept piteously one moment, and laughed merrily the next moment, and so on and on. First, we would certainly regard him as a madman. And second, we really wouldn't know whether or not to call his crying 'sorrow' or his laughter 'joy'. Not only are there no rules for applying those words here, but also no natural extension of our concepts suggests itself to us. This behavior is not our "form of life" -- i.e. we do not have here the "characteristic formation of a pattern" of human life.

We would not know what to do with such a man. And if he uttered 'I am sad' one moment and 'I am joyful' the next moment and so on, we would not understand his "language", although we heard the sound.

Could someone have a feeling of deepest sorrow for the space of one second -- no matter what preceded or followed that second? (cf. ibid. § 583)

"Could someone ...?" is a grammatical question. It means: can the word 'sorrow' be applied in these circumstances? Is the concept that fluid -- i.e. can the word 'sorrow' be applied to just anything? We could say here: "A word whose grammar were that fluid would not be a word; it would not have a grammar; it would be meaningless scribble, noise."

An objective distinction between sense and nonsense

If an objective distinction is to be made between sense and nonsense -- if there is to be a logic of language, then mustn't it be correct to apply a sign in some circumstances and not in others?

If we made the rule 'Say the sign 'zympt' in any situation you please', we would not be making what Wittgenstein called a 'rule of grammar'; a child's random babbling is not language. Were it correct to utter the sign 'I am here' in any and all circumstances, that sign would be nonsense (OC § 10; PI §§ 117, 514).

But why must? The question is: isn't it correct to apply a sign in some circumstances and not in others? If the answer were not yes, then there would be no language, only the noises that are made by animals. (The word 'correct' here means 'with meaning' (Z § 297).)

And 'meaning' and 'meaningless'

The chapter began with the question: what gives a sign meaning? But if 'meaningful' does not contrast with 'meaningless', then this question is nonsense.

"How do I know that the color red can't be cut into bits?" That isn't a question. (PG i § 81, p. 126-7)

I.e. it is nonsense, an undefined combination of words. Anyone might, of course, invent a use for that combination of words, but it has no normal use in the language: it is not a defined move in any of our language games.

I would like to say: "I must begin with the distinction between sense and nonsense. Nothing is possible prior to that. I can't give it a foundation." (ibid.)

"I must begin with ..." But Wittgenstein still has to make the distinction. This he does with similes, comparisons of language to games and words to tools: these comparisons make the distinction.

An objective (verifiable) sense-nonsense (meaning-meaningless) distinction belongs to the facts we find when we look at language, if we look at language through Wittgenstein's lens. The distinction is best explained by comparing using language to playing a game: If a game is played according to its rules, moves in the game have meaning; similarly, if language is used according to its rules of semantic-grammar, the language has meaning. And contrariwise, if an attempted use breaks the rules of the game, the attempt is nonsense (without meaning).

When eyeglasses are required to see

It is not a result of investigation: it is a requirement. (cf. PI § 107)

It is like a pair of glasses on our nose through which we see whatever we look at. It never occurs to us to take them off. (ibid. § 103)

The question is: how are we to take these glasses off? There is no way to do that without putting on some alternative "logic of language", some explicit or implicit other way of distinguishing meaning from meaningless. (A way that can be used in practice. E.g. Plato's way is wholly metaphysical: the correct names of things (i.e. the names of Forms) have objective meaning (namely the Forms themselves), but as there is no way to know what those names are or what their meanings are "so long as we keep to the body", this is not a practical distinction.)

In such a "logic of language" sense and nonsense might not be objective (there would be no semantic rules of grammar). A sign would 'make sense' if someone were inclined to say "It has sense for me" (BB p. 65). 'Nonsense' would mean, not grammatical nonsense (i.e. not 'undefined'), but simply error; e.g. 'There is a square circle' would be a statement of "gross error", not "words whereby we conceive nothing but the sound" (Hobbes). That is an example of an alternative to Wittgenstein's logic of language -- an alternative, that is, if we are willing to call a logic without rules a logic at all.

Which shows that the particular rules-based way of looking at language meaning-- namely through grammar and sense and nonsense -- is Wittgenstein's logic of language. It is important to be aware of this, of this particular pair of eyeglasses. Wittgenstein's logic is a logic of language, not the logic of language, not the only possible.

Does the verification of meaning belong to the community? There are deeds in name only: abracadabra. We don't call just anything a distinction or knowledge or a verification. (Who is "we" -- can you say, thinking of the spread of natural science, that Western-educated people now form a worldwide community of standards? But those standards are as old as Greek philosophy; they defined rationality then as now; so "we" is whoever has learned to think this way, and what you cannot say is there is an alternative rationality.)

Kinds of language conventions

If we want to say that it is misleading to speak of "customs, usages, institutions" -- since if a sign is meaningless, it is only because we have not given it a meaning, a use in the language, a definition -- this is because we have certain examples in mind, and not others. But this is correct: the only demand logic makes of rules of grammar is that they be followable -- which is why we cannot simply utter a rule without describing how it is to be followed. (PI § 380; PG i § 82, p. 127)

Next chapter:

11. 'Nonsense' and Contradiction

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