Signs of Sense

Signs of SenseReading Wittgenstein’s Tractatus

Eli Friedlander

HARVARD UNIVERSITY PRESSCambridge, MassachusettsLondon, England2001

Copyright © 2001 by the President and Fellows of Harvard College

All rights reserved

Printed in the United States of America

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Friedlander, Eli

Signs of sense : reading Wittgenstein’s Tractatus / Eli Friedlander.

p. cm.

Includes bibliographical references and index.

ISBN 0-674-00309-8 (alk. paper)

1. Wittgenstein, Ludwig, 1889–1951. Tractatus logico-philosophicus.

2. Logic, Symbolic and mathematical. 3. Language and languages—

Philosophy. I. Title.

B3376.W563 T7333 2000

192—dc21 00-059804

To the memory of Burton Dreben

Acknowledgments

Acknowledgments

This book is dedicated to the memory of Burton Dreben. He accompa-nied my attempts to read the Tractatus from the very first stumblingsteps to make sense of what professes to be nonsense to the last formula-tions. We met countless times, and his sharp criticism, his inspiring in-sights, his kindness and unfailing encouragement fostered much of whatis good in this book.

Stanley Cavell taught me the terms in which to address the task ofwriting and reading philosophy. His generosity, his responsiveness, andthe example he sets through his writings and teaching provided both in-spiration and orientation. In this work I have found myself returning tohis writings and discovering how indebted I am to his thinking. I hopethat he recognizes in my reading of the Tractatus something of a re-sponse to his vision of Wittgenstein’s later philosophy. Burton Drebenand Stanley Cavell are for me exemplary teachers of philosophy, the onededicated to reveal what drives you by demonstrating that you havefailed to mean what you said, the other showing you that there is alwaysmore meaning to recognize in what you say. I think of the inner dialoguebetween their voices as generating the productive tension that drivesthis work forward.

During my stay at Harvard, when this writing project began, I hadthe benefit of thought-provoking philosophical exchanges with StevenAffeldt, James Conant, Juliet Floyd, Paul Franks, and Arata Hamawaki.As I moved to Tel-Aviv, more friends joined the conversation, amongthem Hagi Kenaan, Yaron Senderowich, Michael Roubach, Ofra Rechter,and Dror Dolfin. I particularly want to thank Irad Kimhi for many in-spiring conversations over the past few years, conversations which havehad a great impact on my thinking. Dror Dolfin’s generous friendshipand invaluable assistance helped me through many difficult moments.Lindsay Waters’s friendly support in the last stages of writing and rewrit-

ing provided much needed encouragement. The readers to whom hesent the manuscript have provided many valuable comments and cor-rections. I thank them for their elaborate and thoughtful reports. TheRotschild foundation generously awarded me a grant to complete theprocess of writing, and Philippa Shimrat as well as Anita Safran did awonderful job of editing the final version of the book.

My parents, Hagith and Saul, my brother, David, and my sister,Michal, are fondly acknowledged here for the things that often go with-out saying. In writing about the voice and silence of philosophy, I oftencross paths with the work of Michal Grover-Friedlander, as she thinksthrough those questions in opera. That such encounters take place in re-lation to our life together makes them all the more significant. Ourtwins, Omer and Elam, learned to pronounce “philosophy” as I was try-ing to spell out its difficulties. Their bursts of laughter in treating theworld as a playground with plenty of ladders to climb upon and throwaway snapped me out of many a moment of self-indulgence.

viii Acknowledgments

Contents

Abbreviations xi

Preface xiii

Introduction: Figures of Writing 1

PART ONE

1 Logic Apart 21

2 The Form of Objects 34

3 “We Make to Ourselves Pictures of Facts” 47

4 Signs and Sense 61

5 The Symbolic Order 71

6 The Grammar of Analysis 88

7 Making Sense and Recognizing Meaning 103

8 Subject and World 112

9 Ethics in Language 123

10 A Demanding Silence 145

PART TWO

11 On Some Central Debates Concerning the Tractatus 161

12 On Wittgenstein’s Dissatisfaction with the Tractatus 210

Works Cited 219

Index 225

Abbreviations

Abbreviations refer to Ludwig Wittgenstein’s writings listed in alphabeti-cal order.

CV Culture and Value, 2nd ed., G. H. von Wright, ed., P. Winch, trans.(Oxford: Blackwell, 1980).

LE “A Lecture on Ethics,” Philosophical Review 74 (1965).

LLW Letters from Ludwig Wittgenstein, with a Memoir, P. Engelmann, ed.(Oxford: Blackwell, 1967).

LO Letters to C. K. Ogden with Comments on the English Translation of theTractatus Logico-Philosophicus, G. H. von Wright, ed. (Oxford:Blackwell; London: Routledge, 1973).

LRKM Letters to Russell, Keynes and Moore, G. H. von Wright and B. F.McGuinness, eds. (Oxford: Blackwell, 1974).

NB Notebooks, 1914–1916, G. H. von Wright and G. E. M. Anscombe, eds.,G. E. M. Anscombe, trans. (Oxford: Blackwell, 1961).

PI Philosophical Investigations, G. E. M. Anscombe and Rush Rhees, eds.,G. E. M. Anscombe, trans. (Oxford: Blackwell, 1958).

PT Prototractatus, B. F. McGuinness, T. Nyberg, and G. H. von Wright, eds.,D. F. Pears and B. F. McGuinness, trans. (Ithaca: Cornell UniversityPress, 1971).

SRLF “Some Remarks on Logical Form,” Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society,supp. vol. IX (1929).

TLP Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus, D. F. Pears and B. F. McGuinness, trans.(London: Routledge, 1961).

WVC Ludwig Wittgenstein and the Vienna Circle: Conversations Recorded byFriedrich Waismann, B. F. McGuinness, ed. (Oxford: Blackwell, 1979).

xi

Preface Preface

Preface

While working on this book I have often asked myself whether there isroom for a reinterpretation of Wittgenstein’s Tractatus Logico-Philoso-phicus—for surely the significance of this classic work has long been ex-hausted. Moreover, if my main purpose is to dispute previous readingsof specific topics, what is the point of writing yet another complete in-terpretation of the whole work? The answer I always gave myself in thewake of such doubts was that, despite all that has been written, a funda-mental difficulty still remains in assimilating the Tractatus. Many sig-nificant philosophical works contain obscure, enigmatic, or difficultpassages. Yet we mostly agree, for example, on what Kant’s fundamentalframework, method, and aim are. The same cannot be said about Witt-genstein’s Tractatus. The fundamental interpretative disagreements thatabound in the secondary literature are themselves indicative of the prob-lematic nature of the text. It is the very nature and extent of such dis-agreements that justifies asking once more what Wittgenstein’s purposewas in the Tractatus.

My book closely follows the movement of Wittgenstein’s text: it is acommentary of sorts, and as such is rather restricted in scope and aim.But at the same time it is ambitious in aiming at a different view of awork that has been the concern of so many interpreters. My sense thatthe movement of the Tractatus as a whole, its impetus, can be missedconstitutes the immediate justification of my writing. The convictionthat the different parts of the Tractatus should be read as constantly serv-ing an overall aim, rather than merely as discrete sets of topics, deter-mined the direction of my interpretation, as well as a certain task of writ-ing and the form my writing took. It is the source of whatever merits andshortcomings the final product may have. This does not mean that I willnot attempt a different reading of the various specific issues raised. In-deed, showing what I take to be the movement of the book as a whole re-

xiii

quires rereading parts of it in detail and reconceiving the relation ofthose details to the whole. But I do not think that the ultimate difficultyexperienced with this work is dispelled by a reinterpretation of this orthat proposition. The work makes “no claim to novelty in detail,” asWittgenstein states in the preface. Thus both its achievement and its dif-ficulty have to do with the way in which all these details are put togetheror spaced. But how is it that the reader can fail to see what all the detailsare for? What precisely is the singular difficulty of that text?

This sense of difficulty was an issue for Wittgenstein himself from thevery beginning. He wrote to Russell in 1915:

I’m extremely sorry that you weren’t able to understand Moore’s notes.I felt that they’re very hard to understand without further explanation,but I regard them essentially as definitive. And now I’m afraid thatwhat I’ve written recently will be still more incomprehensible, and if Idon’t live to see the end of this war I must be prepared for all my workto go for nothing.—In that case you must get my manuscript printedwhether anyone understands it or not.1

As the writing progressed, Wittgenstein’s sense of this essential problemof understanding intensified: “I’ve got my manuscript here with me. Iwish I could copy it out for you; but it’s pretty long and I would have nosafe way of sending it to you. In fact you would not understand it with-out a previous explanation as it’s written in quite short remarks. (This ofcourse means that nobody will understand it; although I believe, it’s all asclear as crystal.)”2

It is tempting to take such remarks as testifying to the problematiccharacter of Wittgenstein the man, to a certain arrogance of tempera-ment. After all, what could be so difficult about logic, functions, andclasses that Russell could not understand?3 And yet the intrinsic dif-ficulty of understanding is the very issue that is raised by the first line of

xiv Preface

1. LRKM, p. 62.

2. Ibid., p. 68. Here is a figure to be compared with the ladder: That something is as clear as

crystal suggests that one can see through it. Any clouding or obscurity of thought will then be

the result of the reader’s insisting on finding an understanding along the way, instead of work-

ing his or her way through the book to the end, thus making it into a transparent medium.

3. Wittgenstein’s correspondence with Frege concerning the Tractatus is a fascinating case

of the nonmeeting of minds. See “Gottlob Frege: Briefe an Ludwig Wittgenstein,” eds. A. Janik

and P. Berger, in Wittgenstein in Focus—Im Brempunkt Wittgenstein, B. McGuinness and R.

Haller, eds. (Amsterdam: Rodolphi, 1989). Parts of that correspondence are translated to Eng-

lish in J. Floyd, “The Uncaptive Eye: Solipsism in Wittgenstein’s Tractatus.”

the preface of the book: “Perhaps this book will be understood only bysomeone who has himself already had the thoughts that are expressed init—or at least similar thoughts.”4 This way of thematizing the problemof our approach to the Tractatus makes the difficulty intrinsic to thattext. It turns it, one might say, into an esoteric text. Thus the claim thatthere is an intrinsic difficulty of understanding this book points neitherto a psychological problem of Wittgenstein’s nor to the shortcomings ofany of the readers who have approached that text. Rather, it is somethingin the book as a whole, that is, in philosophy itself as Wittgenstein seesit, that creates such a problem of approach. The difficulty is due neitherto Wittgenstein’s supposed obscurity or laconic way of putting variouspoints nor to the lack of examples or aids to the reader. The book itself iswritten in such a way as to present something of an enigma. To read itwith understanding is to address its enigmatic nature in a fruitful way.

This perception of the nature of the work provided me with a direc-tion of interpretation. The point was not to attempt, with cunning, tosolve the work’s riddle, but rather to present its enigmatic character in atruly thought-provoking way. A thoughtful acceptance of this enigmaticcharacter meant that it had to be viewed as integral to the progress of thetext. The enigmatic tone that colors the opening of the preface crystal-lizes in the final gesture of throwing away the ladder, with the author’sclaim that a proper understanding demands that his propositions be rec-ognized as nonsensical. But in most readings of the book there is a sig-nificant gap between the progress of the text and the philosopher’s finalrevocation of all that has been said. The end, one might say, comes to thereader as a shocking, unassimilable surprise after the seemingly continu-ous progress of the text. An interpretation that takes this moment seri-ously must lead to it, provide an understanding of its necessity, or workthrough the text to this end point; it must think of the book as a whole.

I have worked on the Tractatus in various ways at different times. Any-one who has seriously approached that text knows of the frustrationinvolved in reading it. No doubt frustrations arise with many great phi-losophical texts, but the form of these difficulties varies from one philos-opher to another. When reading a text such as the Tractatus, it is particu-larly vital to be attentive to the form of these difficulties and to take one’sreactions as guidelines to understanding the text. Insofar as the Tractatus

Preface xv

4. L. Wittgenstein, Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus, D. F. Pears and B. F. McGuinness, trans.,

p. 3. Henceforth all references to the Tractatus will be to this edition (unless otherwise speci-

fied) by reference to the proposition number immediately following the quote.

is not geared toward any manifest content, one should think through thegaps as they appear in the frustrations and blockages of reading it.

On several occasions I have gone from a sense of the text’s opaque-ness, of disappointment with its promises and seductiveness, of feelingthat nothing speaks in it, to a sudden insight into its significance as awhole. This pace of understanding and this peculiar mode of clarity in-trigued me. It seemed to say more about the work’s structure than aboutmy interpretative skills. This “all or nothing” experience seemed to turnthe Tractatus itself into a world in which one could either feel entirelylost or alternatively move freely from one part to the other. This re-inforced my conviction that the Tractatus should always be read as awhole, and that our relation to the text should be seen as exemplifyingsomething of our relation to the world. In attempting such an interpreta-tion I hope I have not forced the text against its natural inclination.Whether I have been successful in doing what this conception of philo-sophical work demands is something that the reader will have to judgefor himself.

The difficulty of reading such a work also raises questions as to whatit means to write about it. Wittgenstein writes in the preface about thedifficulty he has in expressing his fundamental insights: “Here I am con-scious of having fallen a long way short of what is possible. Simply be-cause my powers are too slight for the accomplishment of the task.—May others come and do it better.” I take this remark as suggesting a di-rection for reading the text fruitfully: namely, what is required is a cer-tain balance between diligently following the text and the need to try toexpress differently what the explicit part of Wittgenstein’ s text only halfsays. Not that I claim that my interpretation expresses better than Witt-genstein what the Tractatus is about, but I do think that a proper concep-tion of the nature of the difficulty of expression requires from a goodreader something like the act of rewriting that I attempt. The Tractatusdoes not ultimately aim at communicating some content that one cangrasp and circulate. Its insights must be rediscovered, or recovered fromone’s own standpoint. (“Perhaps this book will be understood only bysomeone who has himself already had the thoughts that are expressed init—or at least similar thoughts.”) The ultimate aim of such a commen-tary must be the reopening of the space in which Wittgenstein’s speechcan be heard, or can resound, as forcefully as possible. This work of

xvi Preface

clearing the ground or opening up a dimension of the text, suggesting itslines of force, and allowing its intensity to come to light is, properlyspeaking, what a devoted reading of the book should aim at.

A particular difficulty resides in trying to write about the end of thebook. A diligent reader will find himself faced with the question of howhe relates to the emergence of Wittgenstein’s own voice—faced with theultimate ambition of this text. For by the end one thing is clear: Witt-genstein aims at the deepest and most serious communication. And thequestion is how to respond to it; how to write seriously, for others, aboutit, in response to it.

Here the writer can fall into the trap of modesty. Since the end de-mands such a transformative experience, how can I be sure that the workhas had its effect on me? And how can I write about the ultimate secretof the text for others? It seems as if no work of explication or criticism(in the sense in which criticism is used for a text of literature) could beadequate to the demands of the end; as if the very attempt at writing inorder to make manifest this other form of communication must inevita-bly fail.

Another, much more disturbing possibility of failure I call the trap ofarrogance: the belief that one can and will expose what is essentially hid-den. Wittgenstein writes: “It is a great temptation to try to make thespirit explicit.”5 In the belief that one has succeeded in discerning whathas escaped expression, one is lured into making explicit a moment thatmust remain unsaid, and that can work forcefully only by remaining un-said. Figuration, or explicitness, affords a premature release from thetrue tension of the work. The arrogance lies in claiming for oneself amastery of what essentially escapes representation.

This oscillation between modesty and arrogance is known to the text;it is predicted in the duality of moods Wittgenstein expresses in the pref-ace: “I therefore believe myself to have found, on all essential points,the final solution of the problems. And if I am not mistaken in this be-lief, then the second thing in which the value of this work consists isthat it shows how little is achieved, when these problems are solved”(TLP, p. 4).

Nowadays it is not common to find books that are devoted to the

Preface xvii

5. CV, p. 8.

reading of a single philosophical text. Writers prefer to consider thecorpus of a philosopher’s work as a whole or to focus on a trend inthe history of philosophy with reference to the sociocultural context.But certain philosophical texts resist their contexts and stand in a devi-ant relation to their times, despite the interminable attention they mightelicit and the commentaries they might produce. Indeed, a resistance toassimilation might very well be a definitive trait of a classic work, whichmeans that in every period the task presents itself anew to read and writeon such a text and to bring its elusiveness to the fore.

Wittgenstein himself, early and late, does not explicitly bring intoplay the historical or cultural context of his writing. This in itself consti-tutes a feature of his writing that has to be interpreted. In the Tractatushis writing also assumes the appearance of a somewhat dogmatic, or atleast authoritative, tone. By avoiding the historical context I do notmean to imply that I take such authoritative pronouncements to be theultimate truth—a new form of dogmatism in philosophy. But I do thinkthat ultimately the power of the Tractatus is its own, and its air of auton-omy serves the aims it seeks to achieve. In my interpretation I want toshow Wittgenstein’s conception of the power of the book in philosophy.This also means that I will avoid at most junctures references to variousinfluences, the intellectual context, and other works of Wittgenstein’s.I have mostly restricted myself to considering only the text of theTractatus. At times I make exceptions to that rule and refer to the Note-books and the “Lecture on Ethics.” Even more rarely do I mention thephilosophical views that Wittgenstein engaged, such as those of Fregeand Russell and also of Schopenhauer and Kant, but not in order to com-pare the views in any detail. Here, I follow Wittgenstein’s own advice inthe preface: “I do not wish to judge how far my efforts coincide withthose of other philosophers. Indeed, what I have written here makes noclaim to novelty in detail, and the reason why I give no sources is that itis a matter of indifference to me whether the thoughts that I have hadhave been anticipated by someone else” (TLP, p. 3).

Wittgenstein himself does not engage in a systematic assessment andcriticism of various views. Russell and Frege are mentioned in the Pref-ace as sources of stimulation for his own thinking, and the Tractatuscontains various (mainly critical) references to specific points theymake. But we are left with the impression that such remarks are not

xviii Preface

meant to serve as a systematic assessment of Wittgenstein’s position inrelation to those views. His wish is not so much to open a debate withthose thinkers as to use them to further clarify his own central point.6

Since I think that the Tractatus contains a movement that should begrasped in its entirety, my interpretation must remain keyed to that ges-ture. This means that it will be rather short, endeavoring to express andduplicate the movement of the work, even if this entails foregoing adetailed commentary of various propositions.7 That said, I did conceivemy reading of the Tractatus in relation to various other major interpreta-tions of the work. I shall mark points of agreement and disagreementwith those interpretations in the second part of this book.

Although I wish to read the Tractatus apart from its times, this doesn’tmean that this reading is entirely divorced from the history of philoso-phy itself. Certain developments which are connected to the very influ-ence and reception of Wittgenstein make it possible to emphasize as-pects of the Tractatus that have been neglected, and thus to shift theconception of the work in the direction I want. The fate of the bookseems bound up with the fate of the divide between the two traditionsof philosophy, the analytic or Anglo-American and the existential-phenomenological, or so-called Continental tradition. I conceive ofWittgenstein’s work, both early and late, as a possible mediation be-tween those two directions of modern philosophy. Insofar as the philo-sophical climate is changing, it is, I think, possible to return to this textof Wittgenstein’s with a different aim, not in order to collapse the twotraditions into one another, but to take the Tractatus as a proper standardfor measuring their distance. My wish to touch upon such different tra-ditions of philosophy partly explains the distance, at least in tone, be-tween my way of expressing some of Wittgenstein’s points and thesound of his own writing. Parts of the book will sound closer to analyticelaborations of notions like logic, signs, and symbols. Other parts, elab-orating concepts such as world, the subject, the ethical, and the mystical

Preface xix

6. This feature of Wittgenstein’s writing becomes more and more pronounced. Thus the

Philosophical Investigations contains very little in terms of an overt argument with other philo-

sophical views.

7. Imitation may not in most cases be the most promising way to elaborate one’s interpreta-

tion, but I think that there are works, such as the Tractatus, in which the task of repeating in

other words what they say addresses their peculiar difficulty.

will have a distinctly different tone. Since I have learned much on howto read these topics of the Tractatus from reading Heidegger, I find itfruitful to make Wittgenstein’s pronouncements resonate with what onemight think of as Heideggerian formulations.

xx Preface

Signs of Sense Introduction

IntroductionFigures of Writing

What kind of work is Wittgenstein’s Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus, whatare the philosophical sensibilities of its author, and what does it demandof its readers?

The Tractatus is a singular work. Some readers might initially perceiveits singularity as the difficulty of placing it in any tradition of modernphilosophy. It is usually said that the Tractatus developed from Wittgen-stein’s preoccupation with the logic of Frege and Russell, who are indeedthe only two sources explicitly, even if problematically, acknowledged inhis preface. Thus the work is usually placed in the lineage of analyticphilosophy and considered to have fathered logical positivism. MoritzSchlick called it “the first to have pushed forward the decisive turningpoint” in philosophy, and Carnap named it as the inspiration for his Log-ical Syntax of Language in particular and for his anti-metaphysicalism ingeneral. And yet the Tractatus is hardly similar in tone either to its ances-try or to its progeny, despite its apparent similarities to them in contentand subject matter; it seems to be the product of a completely differentphilosophical sensibility. Yet this does not mean that it can be squarelyplaced in the other great modern tradition, emanating from Kant andleading through Hegel and Nietzsche to Heidegger.

The difficulty in assimilating the Tractatus is often revealed by the ten-dency to divide the book into parts and adopt some of its pronounce-ments while discarding others. Carnap’s attitude is in this respect typi-cal; he adopts in his Logical Syntax of Language only that part of theTractatus that can be seen as the elaboration of a general theory of syn-tax, thereby “correcting” Wittgenstein’s erroneous supposition that logi-

1

cal form can be shown but not said and squarely rejecting the ethical ormystical implications of the work.

It was Wittgenstein who first exhibited the close connection betweenthe logic of science (or “philosophy” as he calls it) and syntax . . . Fur-ther he as shown that the so-called sentences of metaphysics and ofethics are pseudo-sentences . . . If I am right, the position here main-tained is in general agreement with his . . . There are two points espe-cially on which the view here presented differs from that of Wittgen-stein, and specifically from his negative theses. The first of these thesesstates . . . [that] there are no sentences about the forms of sentences;there is no expressible syntax. In opposition to this view, our construc-tion of syntax has shown that it can be correctly formulated and thatsyntactical sentences do exist . . . Wittgenstein’s second negative thesisstates that the logic of science (“philosophy”) cannot be formulated . . .Consistently Wittgenstein applies this view to his own work also . . .Such an interpretation of logic is certainly very unsatisfactory.1

This divisive treatment of the work is not restricted to one kind of philo-sophical sensibility. From the opposite corner of the philosophical land-scape, Wittgenstein’s friend Paul Engelmann has a somewhat similar re-action:

a whole generation of disciples was able to take Wittgenstein for apositivist because he had something of enormous importance in com-mon with the positivists: he draws the line between what we can speakabout and what we must be silent about just as they do. The differenceis only that they have nothing to be silent about. Positivism holds—and this is its essence—that what we can speak about is all that reallymatters in life. Whereas Wittgenstein passionately believes that all thatreally matters in human life is precisely what, in his view, we must besilent about. When he nevertheless takes immense pain to delimit theunimportant, it is not the coastline of that island which he is bent onsurveying with such meticulous accuracy but the boundary of theocean.2

Despite his sense of a world of difference between his view of theTractatus and that of the positivists, it may well be that Engelmann pre-sents only the mirror image of the positivist conception. Ridiculingthose who do not see what is really important, he ignores, like the posi-

2 Signs of Sense

1. R. Carnap, The Logical Syntax of Language, pp. 282–283.

2. LLW, p. 97.

tivist, the crucial question: what is it in Wittgenstein’s work that makesit possible to mistake the land for the ocean? In other words, how canone fail to see the essential relation between land and ocean? Thus thechallenge in reading the Tractatus is to explain how a single work canhave all those sides to it, rather than to separate the book into parts thatare good and others to be discarded.

This divisive approach to the “real” concern of the Tractatus may havebeen encouraged by some of Wittgenstein’s own remarks concerning hiswork. In a famous letter to Ludwig von Ficker, Wittgenstein tried to ex-plain the point of his manuscript, which seemed so remote from any ofvon Ficker’s interests and so forbidding.

In reality, it isn’t strange to you, for the point of the book is ethical. Ionce wanted to give a few words in the foreword which now actuallyare not in it, which, however, I’ll write to you now because they mightbe a key for you: I wanted to write that my work consists of two parts:of the one which is here, and of everything which I have not written.And precisely this second part is the important one. For the Ethical isdelimited from within, as it were, by my book; and I’m convinced that,strictly speaking, it can ONLY be delimited in this way. In brief, I think:All of that which many are babbling today, I have defined in my book byremaining silent about it. Therefore the book will, unless I’m quitewrong, have much to say which you want to say yourself, but perhapsyou won’t notice that it is said in it. For the time being, I’d recommendthat you read the foreword and the conclusion since they express thepoint most directly.3

It is tempting to interpret these remarks to mean that Wittgensteinhas only an instrumental interest in logic. Yet the letter to von Fickerdoes not merely express the primacy of the ethical but states the neces-sity of going through logic in order to delimit the ethical. That this is theonly way of delimiting the ethical shows the essential relatedness andinterdependence of logic and ethics. What is most difficult to under-stand is the nature of the affinity established between them. Why is itthat, in extremis, thinking about logic touches upon the ethical?

The easiest and most tempting way of viewing the relationship be-tween logic and ethics is to think of them as two separate domains—as,so to speak, countries bordering on one another. Thus logic would de-limit all that is sayable, and the content of the Tractatus would chart this

Introduction 3

3. Quoted in R. Monk, Ludwig Wittgenstein: The Duty of Genius, p. 178.

domain. Ethics would then be identified with the domain of the unsay-able, whose contours are determined by the negative space that theTractatus leaves open. After all, the Tractatus, at least in its manifest con-tent, is indeed concerned with logic, and Wittgenstein himself seems tohold that ethics cannot be said.

This easy solution, which relies so heavily on the geographical tropeof two adjacent domains (as Engelmann’s figure of land and ocean sug-gests), is unsatisfactory. Ethics, after all, cannot be the other side oflogic, that which is not logic, since negation itself belongs to the realm oflogic: hence both the content to be negated and the result of the nega-tion belong to the same domain. Moreover, delimiting the logical in thatway might leave room for the ethical, but it in no way provides its inter-nal articulation. It would present us at most with the external contoursof a domain, its borders. But the Tractatus is not a prolegomenon to a do-main of ethics. It is a work with an ethical point, which is inseparablefrom its work of delimiting the logical.

Moreover, it does not seem all that natural to assume without furtherado that logic merely delimits the ethical. Why are we not in the leasttempted to say that Russell and Whitehead’s Principia Mathematica orFrege’s Begriffsschrift delimit the ethical negatively? Would it be possibleto perceive the Tractatus as a work with an ethical point without Witt-genstein’s remarks to this effect, and if so, what is the nature of the dif-ference between these two ways of elaborating logic and its limits?

In my approach to the text I will assume that only by discarding thefigure of adjacent domains can the reader grasp the meaning of theTractatus: that everything happens at the limits, in the work of delimita-tion. This means that the task of delineating the logical is as problematicas that of opening ourselves to the ethical. There is not one domain,logic, in which everything is quite straightforward and open, and an-other, ethics, that is essentially obscure. Work at the limits bears equallyon both the ethical and the logical. This perception suggests that themain issue is to explain why drawing the limits of language as such re-veals the inner relation of the ethical and the logical. Wittgenstein’s phi-losophy, far from separating these into distinct domains, brings out theiressential affinity.4

These disciplinary or territorial considerations are naturally con-

4 Signs of Sense

4. This intuition runs counter to P. M. S. Hacker’s interpretation: “It is common to view the

Tractatus as a completely and wholly integrated work, and hence to think that the so-called

‘mystical’ parts of the book are ‘a culmination of the work reflecting back on everything that

nected with the difficulties presented by the relation between the formof the Tractatus and its content. From that perspective, the singularity ofthe work lies in its declining to provide the kind of continuous read-ing that encompasses the content and the conditions of content. TheTractatus can be read either from its beginning or from its end. At theend, Wittgenstein casts doubt on the beginning and distinguishes thecontent from the point of the book. He notoriously writes:

My propositions serve as elucidations in the following way: anyonewho understands me eventually recognizes them as nonsensical, whenhe has used them—as steps—to climb up beyond them. (He must, soto speak, throw away the ladder after he has climbed up it.)

He must transcend these propositions, and then he will see theworld aright. (6.54)

Readers of the work do not cease to be mesmerized (and consequentlyoften paralyzed) by this remark, by the end of the book, and by whatsupposedly lies beyond it, and seek to use it as the key to understandingthe Tractatus and its ethical point. Others, taking a different approachand recapitulating the philosophical division, start reading from the be-ginning and are drawn to the content or supposed logical doctrine of thebook—to the most complex and detailed picture the work presents. Itslogic is fascinating though not easily understood.

Those who emphasize the point of the book over its content seek toexplain that point before analyzing the detailed argumentation (in par-ticular, they try to explain the meaning of the injunction to throw awaythe ladder). They view our understanding, at the end, as essentially ex-ternal to the considerations raised in the work. Furthermore, a gradualinterpretation of the text, tracing its internal logic, would seem a mostmisleading enterprise, given what one is left with after the ladder hasbeen thrown away. If we take too seriously what we know to be ulti-mately nonsense, it will be hard for us to dismiss it at the end.

Those who prefer to emphasize the manifest content of the book will

Introduction 5

went before.’ This is, I think, at best misleading, at worst erroneous. It is true that these sec-

tions of the Tractatus are connected with what went before, although the connection is tenu-

ous. It is also true that they were of great importance to Wittgenstein. It is not obvious, how-

ever, that they follow from the earlier sections of the book.” See Insight and Illusion: Themes in

the Philosophy of Wittgenstein, p. 101. As I indicated in the Preface, I think that such a piece-

meal interpretation of the Tractatus misses the essential aim of the book. It is a book that de-

mands to be read as a whole.

see such a grand gesture as empty at best. Indeed, why should Wittgen-stein write such a complex treatise on logic only to throw it away dra-matically at the end? They tend to dilute the remark about throwingaway the ladder, to avoid its radical consequences, by arguing that ourunderstanding at the end is still related to what was set forth in the book.They would argue that although strictly speaking the book might benonsense, it nonetheless manages to convey a view of logic and theworld which, on its own terms, cannot be stated.5

The first kind of reading suffers from all the defects of an overhastyidentification with Wittgenstein’s voice. In particular, the reluctance tobe fooled, by divining the point of Wittgenstein’s work in advance,might give the reader a false sense of mastery which in fact does not con-tain the truth of the text. The text requires work in order for its truth tobe made manifest, or for the discrepancy between illusory mastery andthe assumption of subjectivity to be acknowledged. The second kind ofreaders inevitably will see the fruits of their work snatched away at thecrucial moment, and satisfaction withheld permanently. They will treatthe Tractatus, despite Wittgenstein’s warning, as a textbook, and thuswill not derive any pleasure from reading it. (For, indeed, there is a pe-culiar kind of pleasure to be had in relating to the end of the book in theproper way.) Here too, the book’s purpose will not have been fulfilled.

The oddness of the book might merely be dismissed as a matter ofstyle, which would be to dismiss the philosophical importance of pre-sentation as such.6 The literary dimension of the Tractatus, the peculiar

6 Signs of Sense

5. Cora Diamond as well as James Conant have convincingly shown the difficulty of hold-

ing to the content of the Tractatus despite the injunction to throw away the ladder. See C. Dia-

mond, “Throwing Away the Ladder,” in The Realistic Spirit: Wittgenstein, Philosophy and the

Mind; J. Conant, “Wittgenstein, Kierkegaard and Nonsense,” in T. Cohen, P. Guyer, and H.

Putnam, eds., Pursuits of Reason, pp. 195–224.

6. An excellent example, just because it self-consciously dismisses the peculiarities of Witt-

genstein’s writing, is E. Anscombe’s An Introduction to Wittgenstein’s Tractatus: “In his introduc-

tion Wittgenstein suggests that he may be understood only by people who have had the same

thoughts as he; certainly he can only be understood by people who have been perplexed by the same

problems. His own writing is extraordinarily compressed, and it is necessary to ponder each

word in order to understand his sentences. When one does this, they often turn out to be quite

straightforward, and by no means so oracular or aphoristic as they have been taken to be. But

few authors make such demands on the close attention and active co-operation of their readers.

In my account, I have not followed the arrangement of the Tractatus at all. That, I think, is

something to do when one reads the book for enjoyment after one has come to understand its main

style of the work, is usually viewed as an expression of the singular per-sonality of the author. Although no direct attempt is made to explain thecontent of the book in terms of Wittgenstein’s biography, interpretersseem to feel that the work’s peculiarities are to be attributed either to theauthor’s cultural background or to his strong personality. Russell’s de-scription of Wittgenstein as “perhaps the most perfect example I haveever known of genius as traditionally conceived, passionate, profound,intense, and dominating” might well epitomize the interest that his per-son can generate.7 However, the Tractatus contains hardly anything thatmight be called personal, which suggest that its uniqueness cannot beexplained as an emanation of Wittgenstein’s personality.8 Indeed, the fas-cination with Wittgenstein’s personality in relation to his work oftenhinders a thorough inquiry into the inner necessity of the Tractatus’ sin-gularity. For the impression does arise that Wittgenstein’s reflections onlogic and the state of his soul are intimately connected. On reading hisdiaries, putting together what has been separated by editors (Notebooks1914–1916, and the secret war diaries or Geheime Tägebuchen), it is cer-tainly tempting to establish a biographical connection to the strictlyphilosophical writing.9 But the fact remains that no hint of the biograph-ical material appears in the final work. Thus the author’s uniqueness andthe uniqueness of the work must be addressed without making the workpersonal. That is, although the biographical response might be sug-gested by the work, it actually misrepresents the significance of the per-son to the work and fails to account for the necessity of the first-personsingular in a work of philosophy such as the Tractatus.

Introduction 7

ideas.” In Introduction to Wittgenstein’s Tractatus, p. 19, my emphasis. Anscombe’s deliberate

shift from “having the same thoughts” to being “perplexed by the same problems,” her insis-

tence that Wittgenstein’s aphoristic style is actually a compressed argumentative form, and her

dissociation of understanding from the affective dimension of the book, all contribute to segre-

gating the logical, the ethical, and the aesthetic into separate domains.

7. B. Russell, Autobiography, vol. 2, pp. 98–99.

8. The distinction between uniqueness and other forms of understanding the personal will

be a topic I will address in my interpretation of solipsism in the Tractatus as well as in my read-

ing of the ending of the book. This form of uniqueness will have to be elaborated so as to ac-

count for a claim such as: “Only from the consciousness of the uniqueness of my life arises reli-

gion—science—and art” (NB, p. 79). I assume that here ‘uniqueness’ does not mean features of

my character or the events of my life that distinguish me from other human beings.

9. For an attempt to bring into the picture Wittgenstein’s diaries as a whole, see, for exam-

ple, J. Floyd’s “The Uncaptive Eye: Solipsism in Wittgenstein’s Tractatus.”

In thinking of Wittgenstein’s writing itself—of, as it were, the style ofhis work—as giving us a clue to the conception of the work, it is impor-tant to grasp that just as an understanding of ethics is inseparable fromthat of logic, so the aesthetic cannot be seen as a domain apart. Wittgen-stein asserts in a well-known statement that “Ethics and aesthetics areone and the same” (6.421). We should not assume that we know whatethics and aesthetics are. Nor, for that matter, should we assume that weknow what logic is. Indeed, we should abandon preconceived ideasabout their nature before approaching the text, and such statementsshould themselves be exemplified and tested in the context of the Trac-tatus itself. In taking as a starting point the nature of the writing of theTractatus, I do not mean to imply that such an inquiry is truly separablefrom the questions of logic or ethics that the book raises, only that itmight provide a better or fresh point of entry into its problems.

By speaking of the aesthetics of the Tractatus, I do not intend here toraise the issue of the pleasure afforded by reading the work (thoughWittgenstein does state in the preface that the purpose of the book isto give pleasure to the one person who reads it with understanding).Rather, I mean to inquire about the nature of Wittgenstein’s writing andwhat it means to read it.10 Wittgenstein does not speak of his workmerely as a work of philosophy but says that it is “strictly philosophicaland at the same time literary,”11 implying that there is a literary dimen-sion to the philosophical as such. The question is, then, to what extentdoes the writing of a book concerning logic, with an ethical pointto it, define a literary task which is essential to strictly philosophicalthinking?

We can approach the question of the nature of Wittgenstein’s writingby considering that the Tractatus is a ‘pointed’ work. It reveals a limitcase, or an experience of limits. The task of making manifest such anelusive limit should be conceived of in terms of intensity of expressionrather than clarification of a domain (what Wittgenstein calls in thepreface “hitting the nail on the head”). In his Notebooks Wittgenstein of-ten presents his problem as one of expression: “My difficulty is only

8 Signs of Sense

10. An elaboration of this theme in relation to Wittgenstein’s Philosophical Investigations

will be found in S. Cavell’s “‘The Investigations’ Everyday Aesthetics of Itself,” in S. Mulhall,

ed., The Cavell Reader.

11. Undated letter to Ludwig Ficker. Quoted in B. McGuinness, Wittgenstein: A Life, Young

Ludwig: 1889–1921, p. 288.

an—enormous—difficulty of expression.”12 Indeed, in the preface to theTractatus Wittgenstein develops an opposition between truth and its ex-pression:

If this work has any value it consists in two things: the first is thatthoughts are expressed in it, and on this score the better the thoughtsare expressed—the more the nail has been hit on the head—the greaterwill be its value. Here I am conscious of having fallen a long way shortof what is possible. Simply because my powers are too slight for the ac-complishment of the task.—May others come and do it better. On theother hand the truth of the thoughts that are here communicated seemsto me unassailable and definitive. I therefore believe myself to havefound, on all essential points, the final solution of the problems. And ifI am not mistaken in this belief, then the second thing in which thevalue of this work consists is that it shows how little is achieved whenthese problems are solved. (TLP, pp. 3–4)

Wittgenstein here distinguishes the task of expression from the discov-ery of truths or the solving of problems. What has value is the force ofexpression, and not the content of the statements made.

The thoughts expressed can be quite simple when uttered as theses.13

An example of the contrast between expression and mere utterance isgiven in proposition 5.5563, where something like the point of the workis stated: “In fact, all the propositions of our everyday language, justas they stand, are in perfect logical order.—That utterly simple thing,which we have to formulate here, is not a likeness of the truth, but thetruth itself in its entirety.” What it takes to express the force of that is noless than the Tractatus as a whole. This emphasis on expression shouldbe read in conjunction with the motto of the book: “. . . and whatever aman knows, whatever is not mere rumbling and roaring that he hasheard, can be said in three words.”

Such emphasis on the expression of a point may seem to go againstthe overwhelming impression that the Tractatus is a treatise organizedalmost like an axiomatic system. The numbering system that orders thepropositions and divides the text into discrete parts, as well as the asser-

Introduction 9

12. NB, p. 40.

13. I would think of such a separation of the problem of expression from the statement of

thoughts as prefiguring what Wittgenstein writes in Philosophical Investigations: “If one tried to

advance theses in philosophy, it would never be possible to debate them, because everyone

would agree to them” (PI, § 128).

tive mode in which it is mostly written, reinforce that impression, whichis why Wittgenstein’s writing has been compared with Spinoza’s geomet-rical method—and hence also Moore’s suggestion to give a Latin title tothe English translation from the German that plays on the associationwith Spinoza’s Tractatus Theologico-Politicus. Although elements of Witt-genstein’s text certainly suggest the association with Spinoza, the rea-sons that prompted Moore to choose that title should not be identifiedwith those that led Wittgenstein to agree to it. Thus the archaic tone ofthe title, as well as the very form of the treatise, might be seen as ex-pressing the relation between the Tractatus and those past works ofmetaphysics. But rather than pointing to a similarity of content, this as-sociation might serve to emphasize the contrary: that we have lost thecapacity to relate to the world through metaphysics, that metaphysics isa matter of the past—indeed, that the Tractatus, in throwing away theladder, expresses this very loss.

Furthermore, one should not identify the geometrical method of theEthics and the numbering system of the Tractatus, for the latter maycarry with it certain rhetorical effects which are at odds with Spinoza’sgeometrical thinking.14 The numbering indeed creates the possibility ofsurveying the progress of reading. But this is not merely the possibilityof making perspicuous the way in which one proposition constitutes anexplication of another. The numbering frames everything as surveyable;it holds the book together. Wittgenstein’s numbering provides a measureof progress and colors the book as a whole with the sense of linear prog-ress.15 It creates the impression that you can take one step after another

10 Signs of Sense

14. See S. Cavell, “‘The Investigations’ Everyday Aesthetics of Itself” on proofs and perspi-

cuity in Wittgenstein’s later thinking. It is instructive in that respect to compare the Tractatus

with the Notebooks. The Notebooks of the early Wittgenstein are, one might say, closer to

Wittgenstein’s later remarks than to the Tractatus that comes out of them. This might be ex-

plained by Wittgenstein’s later cultivation of the style of the diary entry, but it would be, I

think, more correct to say that such was his natural inclination from the very beginning, and

thus to associate with the tone of the Tractatus a deliberate striving after a certain tone and ef-

fect. It is interesting that his understanding of the tone in which philosophy is to be conducted

shifted so radically, whereas something important about his aim remained the same throughout

his writings.

15. This stands in sharp contrast to the central figure for writing used in Wittgenstein’s

Philosophical Investigations, that of sketching a landscape: “The philosophical remarks in this

book are, as it were, a number of sketches of landscapes which were made in the course of . . .

long and involved journeyings” (Preface, p. ix). The Tractatus, although it allows for various

branchings in our modes of advance, is essentially hierarchical and does not form a landscape

in which the reader can stroll.

while keeping in mind what has been said. But maybe it is precisely thisordering that ultimately serves the final gesture: for the ladder to bethrown away, it must have existed in the first place. Indeed, Wittgen-stein’s remark that his book is not a textbook does not mean that thereader is not tempted to a step-by-step advance, as if on a ladder. Butthere will come a decisive moment when the very possibility of this ad-vance will be rejected. One could also say that in order to address theproblem of the essentially distant, the unapproachable (and after all theend of the Tractatus is concerned with the mystical), it is necessary to ex-perience the attempt to draw near.

The Tractatus is a complex text, yet this complexity does not contra-dict the possibility of taking it in all at once. (This is not a psychologicalremark but an aesthetic judgment concerning the form of the work.) Inthis respect the brevity of the book is important, for it allows the readerto advance while keeping in mind what has been read. The possibility ofthat activity of comprehension is a condition for the force the work gath-ers at the end. It is a book with a point, and the point cannot be sepa-rated from encompassing its content in a certain way. It is a book whoseadvance can be visualized, and one that can therefore stage a crisis of vi-sualization. This is what makes it the exact opposite of Philosophical In-vestigations, a book that cannot be read in terms of a unique gesture, abook with no sublime moment.16

Probing into the literariness of the Tractatus might seem out of place,not just because of its seemingly straightforward logical content, butalso because Wittgenstein may often be perceived as a Socratic figurewho is essentially concerned with the dialogical teaching of philosophy.This image of Wittgenstein as someone who does not write—an impres-sion that remains despite the two books and innumerable remarks hedid write—might be the result of Wittgenstein’s own denials that philos-ophy consists of a body of doctrine (4.112), and his claims that philoso-phizing always starts with someone else’s confusion (6.53) or that it isaddressed to one person who can relate to it with understanding (pref-

Introduction 11

16. I assume that the category of sublimity is relevant to assess the experience of the world

in the Tractatus, which is also, as I want to claim, the experience that is provoked by the reading

of the text. This will be developed in the last two chapters of this book. I will only point to

Kant’s characterization of the conditions of the experience of the sublime in terms of a ratio be-

tween the activities of apprehension and comprehension. See Critique of Judgment, trans. J. C.

Meredith, § 26. For an elaboration of the conditions of such an experience, see E. Friedlander,

“Kant and the Critique of False Sublimity,” pp. 69–91.

ace). I do not say that such an image is completely wrong, but merelyask what it implies concerning Wittgenstein’s understanding of the na-ture of a book of philosophy. Indeed, writing need not be confused withthe assertion of positive theses. But then, what is writing, beyond theory,in philosophy?

This leads to the question what significance books had for Wittgen-stein. He is reputed to have read few philosophical works, and he cer-tainly writes as if the books of others are of no concern to him. And yetmentions of books and book writing appear on various occasions inWittgenstein’s early writings.

In his “Lecture on Ethics” he imagines the writing of a book:

Suppose one of you were an omniscient person and therefore knew allthe movements of all the bodies in the world dead or alive and that healso knew all the states of mind of all human beings that ever lived, andsuppose this man wrote all he knew in a big book, then this bookwould contain the whole description of the world.17

A book of this sort presents us with the world as the sum total of facts,letting us survey or contemplate all that is the case extensively or ex-haustively. Enumeration constitutes the essence of such a book. It dis-plays every possible fact to a reader who is imagined as a stranger orspectator to this world. But Wittgenstein also envisaged another kind ofbook, in the same “Lecture on Ethics”:

And now I must say that if I contemplate what Ethics really would haveto be if there were such a science, this result seems to me quite obvi-ous. It seems to me obvious that nothing we could ever think or sayshould be the thing. That we cannot write a scientific book, the subjectmatter of which could be intrinsically sublime and above all other sub-ject matters. I can only describe my feeling by the metaphor, that, if aman could write a book on Ethics which really was a book on Ethics,this book would, with an explosion, destroy all the other books in theworld.18

This book can be seen as the opposite of the great book of facts. If thefirst kind of book has nothing but facts, nothing essentially beyondfacts, or nothing transcendent, then the second kind of book is nothing

12 Signs of Sense

17. LE, p. 6.

18. LE, p. 7.

but pure transcendence. The explosion of that book (for in the fantasy ofThe Book, the apocalyptic book, or the book to end all books, as I pic-ture it, what explodes is the book itself), evokes the manifestation of theessentially distant or other. The explosion, the éclat, to elaborate the fig-ure, is a flash of light that signals that something has been destroyed, orhas disappeared. Plato’s sun, if it were to rise at all, would illuminate thedisappearance of the ground we wished to stand on in its light.19

The two books have something in common: they present a view of thebeyond; the first in terms of infinitely detailed enumeration, and the sec-ond in terms of the intensity of pure transcendence. They are both fan-tastic or impossible books, the first because of its infinite exhaustive-ness, the second because of its immediate explosiveness. But this veryfeature would seem to distinguish them from the Tractatus, which, afterall, we hold before us. But do we? And what precisely do we hold, oncewe have thrown away the ladder?

The Tractatus shares some striking features with the apocalyptic book.It declares, for instance, that it puts an end to all books of philosophy ormetaphysics by solving all problems of philosophy. It further exemplifiesthe explosive movement of the imaginary book on ethics: it does, if wefollow what drives it, collapse into nothing.

The Tractatus also shares some features of the first imaginary book.Although it does not list all that is the case, it creates the impression thatit speaks of the world from the perspective from which that would bepossible. It makes us consider the world as all that is the case and elabo-rates what is involved in adopting such a perspective.

I claim, then, that the Tractatus incorporates both kinds of book.Wittgenstein begins with the fantasy of the exhaustive book and endswith the fantasy of the apocalyptic book; that is, he elaborates the Trac-tatus between two fantasies of doing away with work, in particular withthe work of language. This means, not surprisingly perhaps, that theTractatus is an impossible work. Logically speaking, the Tractatus doesnot exist. An impossible work must necessarily have an illusory consis-

Introduction 13

19. Walter Benjamin uses a similar figure to express his understanding of the philosophical

text. He writes: “In the field with which we are concerned, knowledge exists only in lightning

flashes. The text is the thunder rolling long afterwards.” Quoted in G. Smith, ed., Benjamin:

Philosophy, Aesthetics, History, p. 43. Importantly, Benjamin does not identify the philosophical

text with the lightning but rather with the thunder that is separated from the lightning. Thus

for him too the book that is pure transcendence is an impossible book.

tency. Here we find a first reason why it is necessary for the Tractatus tobe written. It does not exist in the realm of thought; it has a fictional orliterary existence. For thought alone, the Tractatus is a lost cause.

In the Tractatus there is yet another book that Wittgenstein imagineswriting.

If I wrote a book called The World as I Found It, I should have to in-clude a report on my body, and should have to say which parts weresubordinate to my will, and which were not, etc., this being a methodof isolating the subject, or rather showing that in an important sensethere is no subject; for it alone could not be mentioned in that book.(5.631)

In contrast to the two impossible books, Wittgenstein presents TheWorld as I Found It as a book he could write. He writes in the Notebooks:“I have long been conscious that it would be possible for me to write abook: ‘The world I found.’”20 Without going, at this point, into a detailedinterpretation of this proposition, it is clear that it presents a peculiarcase, standing, as it were, in the space between the two impossiblebooks. On the one hand, it contains a form of enumeration. It proposes away of presenting an impersonal view of my place among things. On theother hand, such an enumeration is a way of isolating the subject. It isan attempt to delimit my will by placing my body among things, ratherthan by reference to a transcendent subjectivity. It is a form of autobiog-raphy that brings the world into a relation with the I.

What stands in the way of writing such a book? That is, what preventsme from thinking of my own life in such terms, through such detailedattention to the embodiment of my will in the world? Why did Wittgen-stein not write such a book? Is this the part of the Tractatus that he leftunsaid? One thing is clear: the Tractatus is not The World as I Found It.What stands in the way of writing the latter book is no less than meta-physical pictures of the world, facts, transcendence, and subjectivity. Itis precisely the persistent fantasy of the two other impossible books, thebook of facts and the apocalyptic book, that stands in the way of theproper autobiographical relation. To the extent that the Tractatus incor-porates something of both those books, it is necessary to work throughit to reach the possibility of writing The World as I Found It.

The World as I Found It can be thought of as presenting a conception of

14 Signs of Sense

20. NB, p. 49.

experience which overcomes the tension between the impossible bookof facts and the impossible book of transcendence. It presents the possi-bility of relating to the world as I found it, that is, to things as they havesignificance or touch me, yet without the subject’s being in any way thesubject matter of that book. It opens onto experience, as would the greatbook of facts, but introduces the possibility of viewing the world as sig-nificant.

What is the place from which the world can be viewed not merely asthe sum total of facts laid out for us, but as a world of things that are sig-nificant for a subject? What steps take us to that standpoint? Can we beled there step by step? Taking as a clue the similarity of the Tractatus tothe two imaginary books—which can only be thought of as of divine ori-gin—I want to consider the relation of the Tractatus to the Scriptures.21

Consider a work that is divided into seven parts, that opens with theworld as such, appearing out of nothing, and that ends with the with-drawal and silence of the creator, after all that could be done has beendone. If the seven parts were seven mythical days, this might be called astory of creation, or be thought of in relation to the story of creation inthe first chapter of the book of Genesis. But if that description fitsWittgenstein’s Tractatus, should the book then be understood as address-ing the question of the emergence of Being out of Nothing, or shouldthis feature be dismissed as a mere coincidence, or at best as a joke inbad taste on the part of Wittgenstein, who thereby relates his text to theScriptures?22

Without dismissing the possibility of the parodic, ironic, or comictone that might counterbalance the pristine seriousness of the rest of thetext (for this text is not merely written in that neutral, matter-of-facttone which is the supposed analytic ideal of writing, but rather embod-

Introduction 15

21. A reference to the quasi-biblical tone of the work and its elaboration of a version of cre-

ation appears in B. McGuinness, Wittgenstein: A Life, pp. 299–300, without a consideration of

the significance of the analogy.

22. It is interesting to compare the Tractatus with another text, written at about the same

time, that addresses the account of creation in Genesis: it is Walter Benjamin’s “On Language as

Such and on the Language of Man,” in Selected Writings, Volume 1. 1913–1926, M. Bullock and

M. W. Jennings, eds. Specifically, the division of language into the perspective of the world, the

perspective of objects, and the perspective of facts, which I view as essential in the Tractatus,

can be compared to Benjamin’s distinction between the divine creative verb, the Adamic nam-

ing, and the state of language after the Fall, which essentially involves the bipolarity of judg-

ment.

ies what I would call a pathos of seriousness), I shall inquire whetherthat comparison can be taken seriously and propose a reading to ac-count for it.

I have claimed that to read the Tractatus fruitfully is to work throughit so as to justify its enigmatic character. But an enigma is not a secretwithheld by the author of the book in silence. As I have suggested, theesoteric nature of the text, the difficulty of expression inherent in it,does not derive from the attempt to convey a particularly difficult con-tent but rather from the necessity of directing the reader to experiencedifferently. I have tried in what follows to convey that aim in the move-ment of my interpretation. But it may be useful to provide here, at theend of this introduction, a broad overview of my understanding of theTractatus. This should not replace working through the text. Indeed, ifwhat is at stake is the intensity of expression, such an overview mightnot help much. Nevertheless, my hope is that it may serve as a guide forthe reader if the sense of the overall movement of the Tractatus gets lostin the more detailed unfolding of my interpretation.

The Tractatus aims to open us to our own experience as it is revealedthrough language. This means that there is a gap between the way werepresent to ourselves facts in the world and our recognition of the sig-nificance of experience. This recognition is not the experience of a tran-scendent source of significance, but rather the possibility of viewing ourordinary dealing with things as presenting a face of significance. Tospeak here of significance means, on the one hand, that what one islooking for is a phenomenon of meaning, that is, the appearance ofmeaningfulness in the language we use, and on the other hand, that wehave a phenomenon of value. Thus I find Wittgenstein attempting tolead us to a point where the ‘linguistic’ issue of recognizing meaning isfused with the ‘evaluative perspective’ of things having significance.These are not two separate domains of inquiry, one linguistic and theother ethical; rather, it is that the proper opening onto the possibilitiesof meaning also provides the fundamental evaluative dimension. (Wecan also say that the evaluative dimension of the recognition of meaningrelates that recognition internally to the appearance of affects, so that itcan be thought of as aesthetic as well as ethical.)

It is a world of things that appear to us significant. Thus in my readingthe recognition of significance correlates with properly expressing thefundamental role that objects play in the Tractatus. Such objects, far

16 Signs of Sense

from being mysterious logical preconditions for the functioning of lan-guage, form a world of possibilities of meaning which a human subjectcan assume and through whose appropriation the subject is made mani-fest. They are internally related to our everyday use of language, to theopening of possibilities of existence in that everyday world of concerns.It is for this reason that objects cannot be given systematically; our rec-ognition of them cannot be grounded in advance of experience, for theystand at the place of our openness to experience, which is the ultimateimperative of the work.

That the recovery of experience is an imperative means that it is to beachieved against an urge to transcend the limits of experience, an urgewhich manifests itself in language in the form of nonsense. The recogni-tion of significance is thus achieved as a return from nonsense.23

Introduction 17

23. This description of the aim of the Tractatus might strike readers acquainted with it as

strange. Part of the aim of the detailed reading is to make it convincing. But I would add this:

opening onto meaningfulness or significance is to be contrasted with two perspectives, that of

facts and that of pure transcendence. Those are the two temptations between which the book is

stretched: the temptation of the beginning and that of the end. Giving in to the first temptation

will yield the understanding of the book as concerned essentially with the elaboration of the

possibility of language to picture facts. Giving in to the second temptation will yield seeing the

whole point of the book as concerned with a mystical grasp of the transcendent source of value

outside the world. It is nevertheless important that the Tractatus touch upon those two ex-

tremes. It is concerned, one might say, with this world, with experience as it is given in lan-

guage (thus sharing something with the perspective of facts), but also with viewing this experi-

ence as the emergence of meaning out of nothing, a certain experience of ungroundedness of

meaning (thus sharing something with the perspective of transcendence). I call the possibility

of going beyond the dichotomy of facticity and transcendence the opening onto creation in lan-

guage.

Part One

Signs of Sense Logic Apart

1

Logic Apart

The tendency to focus mainly on the oddity of the end of the Tractatusmay cause us to overlook the striking nature of its opening. The force ofthe opening propositions is surely connected to their ontological tenor.How can one start with the world as such, after Kant? How can onebypass language after Frege and Russell? To be sure, language is in-troduced later in the text, and this makes it possible to read back intothat beginning a more nuanced account. But such a retroactive readingwould lose the tone to which the opening is pitched—a tone that itselfneeds to be explained and its purpose examined. Is it, as we are temptedto say, the tone of metaphysics, and if it is, why should Wittgensteinhave even begun with the tone of a metaphysical treatise in a work thatproblematizes to the extreme the very possibility of metaphysics?

An easy way out of this initial quandary is to invoke the end of thebook at the very beginning. Several interpreters have been tempted tosay that Wittgenstein introduces ontology only to overcome it after a fewsteps up the ladder.1 For if the book is ultimately metaphysical non-

21

1. E. Anscombe, for example, immediately opens her commentary with a discussion of ele-

mentary propositions, as if it were obvious that there were no place for the ontological question.

T. Ricketts thinks of Wittgenstein’s rhetoric in the 2.0s as “carefully calculated both to limn a

metaphysical picture and simultaneously to cancel the incompatible implicatures that any pre-

sentation of this metaphysics carries with it . . . When subsequently we reflect on Wittgenstein’s

words, on the view we take these words to convey, we realize that, on their own telling, they do

not communicate a view at all. Wittgenstein’s words pull themselves apart.” See “Pictures,

Logic and the Limits of Sense in Wittgenstein’s Tractatus,” in Sluga and Stern, eds., The Cam-

bridge Companion to Wittgenstein, pp. 89–90. This description might indeed convey the dialec-

tic at work in the Tractatus, but in that case it must be carried all the way to the end.

By stressing the attempt to start from the world, I do not mean to say that the perspectives of

sense, why shouldn’t that fact be made clear from the start? Undoubt-edly, some justice bolsters the intuition that a certain way of speaking ofthe world that is exemplified at the very beginning of the text has to beovercome. But what I find suspicious is the hasty recourse to a safe ha-ven in the realm of language, that is, the apparent need to invoke theladder at the very outset, while neglecting it throughout the rest of thebook until it reemerges at the end.

The relation between beginning and end must indeed be conceived inthe context of the ontological tone of the opening, but not necessarily inorder to reject the ontological perspective. Indeed, I suggest that Witt-genstein’s return to the possibility of seeing the world aright at the endshould itself be interpreted ontologically, not beyond language but at thelimits of language. In a circular structure, the book starts with the worldas such, a world as if beyond language, only to return to it at the endthrough an understanding of the limits of language.2 Overemphasis onthe figure of the ladder as the key to understanding the structure of thebook distracts attention from this circle. I am suggesting then that wecan think of the structure of the Tractatus by means of a figure thatstands to some extent in tension with the figure of the ladder, that of thecircle. The seeming tension between the linear advance suggested by theladder and the idea of return suggested by the circle is resolved by thefact that the ladder must be thrown away. Having thrown it away, we donot find ourselves somewhere outside or above the world. To throw itaway marks, one might say, the realization that one is being returned tothe world, with no further need for any ladder.

What is it like to enter this circle, to be returned to the world we haveleft behind in the very first steps of thinking? Does Wittgenstein indeed

22 Signs of Sense

world and of language are entirely independent of each other. Wittgenstein importantly inter-

weaves remarks about language with his account of the world and its objects (see, for instance,

2.0122, 2.0211–2.0212, 2.0231). Nevertheless it remains to be explained why he chooses to

start with a seemingly ontological perspective. Often the wish to see language there from the

beginning burdens Wittgenstein’s thinking with a form of transcendentalism, as if he argued

that the condition of the possibility of language is that the world be thus and so. Such transcen-

dental arguments miss the force of Wittgenstein’s anti-a priorism. This will be demonstrated in

my discussion of Wittgenstein’s conception of the nature of analysis and of the subject.

2. I find it significant that neither the opening propositions nor any hints at the surprise of

the end of the book appear anywhere in the Notebooks. Most of the Tractatus appears in some

form in the Notebooks, but such material is ordered and enclosed, encircled as it were by the be-

ginning and the end.

close a circle when he returns to the world at the end? Does he makeends meet and return to the world he opened with, that is, to “all that isthe case”? Or is there a certain gap, something that does not let itself beclosed and that constitutes the very thing which the Tractatus teaches tobe the experience of the world? Although seeing the world aright is notjust seeing all that is the case, nothing is added. To think of the world asmore than all the facts there are cannot be regarded as determining arealm apart from facts. The book as a whole can be seen as a work ofelaborating and intensifying that fundamental tension, the tension in-herent to transcending the factual.

The book’s circularity of structure provides a clue to the Tractatus’ aimand effects. Wittgenstein’s statement in the preface that “the aim of thebook is to draw a limit to thought” can be read as meaning that thoughtis to be restored to its proper bounds, as in Kant’s work of critique, andas further implying that there is nothing beyond thought. In a certainway this expresses the aim of the Tractatus correctly. But Wittgenstein’saim is just as much to show that thought is limited, to present us with aninterpretation of finitude.3 Such a limitation does not mean that there issomething beyond the limits, but it does grant a fundamental impor-tance to the very experience of limitation. Limitation will mean thatthere is the world itself in excess to what can be said. The experience oflimitation, I suggest, is the experience of the world. Thus the problem ofthe circle in the Tractatus is how to advance to a sense of the limits ofthought, while realizing that limitation does not place anything on theother side of thought (except the very existence of a world). The dif-ficulty is to see that there is always something more to what is said. AsWittgenstein put it to Ficker, there is always that part of the book thathe did not write. We should add that this is not a part that can ever bewritten.

It is the world that is the aim of thought. But having barely been men-tioned, the world seems already lost in an avalanche of terms leadingfrom facts to states of affairs to their constituents. We are abruptly intro-duced to a multitude of terms and distinctions: the world, what is the

Logic Apart 23

3. To think of the Tractatus as elaborating a conception of finitude hinges on an under-

standing of Wittgenstein’s concept of limit. Juliet Floyd presents a powerful interpretation of

his position on this issue in “The Uncaptive Eye: Solipsism in Wittgenstein’s Tractatus,” in L.

Rouner, ed., Loneliness (forthcoming). I find many points of agreement as well as of difference

with Floyd’s position, which will be mentioned in chapter 11.

case, the totality of facts, facts, states of affairs, objects, possibilities ofcombinations, logical space, substance of the world, logical form, struc-ture of state of affairs, form, possibility of structure, positive facts, nega-tive facts, reality, sum total of reality, configuration of objects.

Let us remain for a moment at the beginning, for it is all too temptingto enter into the network of articulations, distinctions, and conceptual-izations and become enmeshed in figuring out how terms relate to oneanother. We should not lose sight of the fact that it is the world thatopens this book, that it is the world to which we provide articulation.And if such an endeavor seems odd, would not all further articulation,while serving to clarify, also convey the very loss of what we aimed for—as if language, its very occurrence, both clarified and essentially inter-fered with our relation to the world; as if, once the movement of think-ing about the constitution of the world is broached, the world itself islost.4 The attempt to recover the world will then create the fundamentaltension of the book, wherein the very distinctions introduced create newmodes of alienation. While advancing in the reading, it will be necessaryto retain throughout this double perspective of concealment and discov-ery, as if striving to use language so as to get rid of it, in order to return tothe world in silence.5 Not that the vision of acceding to the world in si-lence should be immediately embraced, for it might itself be as much ofa fantasy as the vision of a world fully articulated in language. But wemust recognize the movement, the tension that arises in bringing lan-guage to the world.

From the outset we must remember that Wittgenstein thinks of the

24 Signs of Sense

4. A curious aphorism related to that matter appears in Culture and Value: “In art it is hard

to say anything as good as: saying nothing” (CV, p. 23). I would read this aphorism as claiming

that we are fated to language when we wish to express anything at all, but that the driving force

of expression in art is to do away with language. What is it to attain the point in language in

which we recognize the force of doing away with language? Attempting to express such an

understanding characterizes for me the movement of the Tractatus, which aims, through lan-

guage, at the world, in silence.

5. This sense of loss and nostalgia is recorded in many of the interpretations. N. Malcolm,

for instance, writes: “In certain respects the Tractatus belongs to an old tradition of metaphysi-

cal philosophy,” in Wittgenstein: Nothing Is Hidden, p. 236. P. M. S. Hacker writes: “The Trac-

tatus . . . is not a prolegomenon to any future metaphysics, but the swan song of metaphysics,”

in Insight and Illusion, p. 27. D. Pears writes: “The exposition of [this] ontology is notoriously

difficult to follow, a last message from a vanishing world, barely articulate, because it is spoken

in such a strangled voice,” in The False Prison, vol. 1, p. 17.

Tractatus as a problem of expression. We must therefore orient ourselvesfirst to what it is that needs to be expressed. This initial orientation, al-beit still vague, is crucial to the attempt to come to terms with theTractatus. The movement of reading must incorporate Wittgenstein’sown sense that “a single insight at the start is worth more than ever somany in the middle.”6 And what needs expression, we must keep inmind, is the world.

It is vital not to yield to the lure of detail but to keep the world in view,if only because of its return at the very end. The single simple insightthat governs the writing here is that the world can be viewed apart fromlogic, without our attributing any reality to logic. This insight is compat-ible with the sense that Wittgenstein wants to open us to the world be-yond our structuring efforts, to provide an experience of the world at thelimits of language. The attempt to put such an insight to work is, I sug-gest, to question the status of logic as determinative of what there is.

This statement itself requires much explication, partly to avoid mis-understandings. I am far from claiming, for instance, that there are illog-

Logic Apart 25

6. NB, p. 31. Throughout the Notebooks various remarks reveal Wittgenstein’s sense that he

is dealing with one infinitely difficult thought: “The problem of negation, of disjunction, of

true and false, are only reflections of the one great problem in the variously placed great and

small mirrors of philosophy” (NB, p. 40); and his constant feeling that he is losing his grip on

that perspective shows up in his strictures to himself to recover it, despite the temptation of ap-

parent puzzles and problems: “Don’t get involved in partial problems, but always take flight to

where there is a view over the whole single great problem, even if this view is still not a clear

one” (NB, p. 23). Sometimes Wittgenstein is tempted to give a name to this problem: “The great

problem around which everything that I write turns is: Is there an order in the world a-priori,

and if so what does it consist in” (NB, p. 53). And in a somewhat altered formulation, he writes:

“My whole task consists in explaining the nature of the proposition. That is to say, in giving the

nature of all facts, whose picture the proposition is. In giving the nature of all being. (And here

Being does not mean existing—in that case it would be nonsensical)” (NB, p. 39). This per-

spective on the problem also provides a mode of advance and inquiry: “Don’t worry about what

you have already written. Just keep on beginning to think afresh as if nothing at all had hap-

pened yet”(NB, p. 30) and further: “In this work more than any other it is rewarding to keep on

looking at questions, which we consider solved, from another quarter, as if they were un-

solved” (NB, p. 30). This last claim sometimes conveys, for me, the experience of reading the

Tractatus, providing a sense of the difficulty of advance, along with the realization that this ad-

vance always leads back to the same place. Such an approach to the single problem of philoso-

phy should be contrasted with Russell’s sense of the possible parcelization and piecemeal ad-

vance concerning the problems of philosophy; see P. Hylton, Russell, Idealism and the Emergence

of Analytic Philosophy. One should not assume, though, that Wittgenstein’s perspective of the

unique problem means a retreat to a form of absolute idealism.

ical or contradictory facts in the world. But I do insist that there is some-thing peculiar about the attributes of logic in the Tractatus. One of itsfamous claims is that there is no such thing as logical laws; that the lawsof logic, say in Frege or Russell’s view, are tautological or senseless.Wittgenstein also writes that logical constants do not stand for anything.Such claims should, I think, raise some questions about the role of logicin determining what there is, the constitution of objects. If, for example,someone were to argue that the laws of physics were senseless and thatphysical constants had no meaning, would it not be incoherent to thensay that things had irreducible physical properties? So why does it seemto readers of the Tractatus coherent to argue that the laws of logic aresenseless, to add that logical constants are not representatives of objects,and yet to want to insist that logic determines what there is? Such a mis-interpretation stems partly from the reluctance to take seriously the on-tological standpoint, the centrality of the term ‘world’ in Wittgenstein’saccount. More specifically, it results, as I will show, from a misreading ofhis notion of object. Indeed, facts, or for that matter propositions thatrepresent facts, cannot exist without logic; but is Wittgenstein’s aim ulti-mately to account for facts?

What is required then is to challenge the idea that our grasp of whatobjects are is given to us by the logic which, according to Wittgenstein,essentially characterizes what facts are. The understanding of the gram-mar of the object will be distinct from the understanding of the space offacts spanned by logic.7 An intuition of the world apart from logic willalso be a view of the world apart from the perspective of facts. Such aview will go through many refinements and complexities, but will ex-press the fundamental tension throughout the book to its end. It willtake some time until we are in a position to assess the significance of thepossibility of opening to the world apart from logic, but we requiresomething that can start us on our way up the ladder. It is necessary toperceive that all the distinctions Wittgenstein makes are subordinateto that insight, that all his claims revolve around it. Lifting us up to

26 Signs of Sense

7. Frege, for instance, thinks of ontology as supervenient on logic. To be an object is to

behave thus and so in inferential patterns. See on this point Frege’s “On Concept and Object,”

in Translations From the Philosophical Writings of Gottlob Frege, eds. P. Geach and M. Black, as

well as T. Ricketts’ powerful interpretation of Frege’s understanding of the primacy of judg-

ment in “Objectivity and Objecthood: Frege’s Metaphysics of Judgment,” in L. Haaparanta and

J. Hintikka, eds., Frege Synthesized.

this perspective requires teaching us how to think differently about theworld, facts, and objects. We will thus find many of the terms used in thetradition shifted, subverted, reconceived, or translated.

The first move on Wittgenstein’s part, the first move in thinking aboutor breaking down the totality suggested by the term ‘world’, is to con-sider how the world breaks down into facts (Tatsachen). Wittgensteinthen relates facts to states of affairs (Sachverhalten) constituted by ob-jects (Gegenstanden, Sachen, Dingen). This progress can be presentedsuccinctly by means of the following propositions:

The world is all that is the case (1).

What is the case—a fact—is the existence of states of affairs (2).

A state of affairs (a state of things) is a combination of objects(things) (2.01).

Reading this series of claims we might be tempted to a reductivist pic-ture and take facts to be constructed out of states of affairs and these inturn to be composed of their basic elements, the objects. In such a pic-ture something must provide the structure of the construction, and this“cement” would be logic.8

But is this Wittgenstein’s picture? What is the relation between factsand states of affairs, and between the latter and objects? What is the na-ture of the contrast between facts and states of affairs? What is the na-ture of the shift from one perspective to the other? For I will, indeed,

Logic Apart 27

8. I realize that this presentation is rather schematic. I do intend it to refer to Russell’s early

conception of logic, according to which logic is, strictly speaking, part of the ‘furniture of the

universe.’ Certain aspects of this early realism also carry over to his later logical atomism. In his

preface to “The Philosophy of Logical Atomism” Russell associates his thought with Wittgen-

stein’s: “The following [is the text] of a course of eight lectures [which] are largely concerned

with explaining certain ideas which I learnt from my friend and former pupil Ludwig Wittgen-

stein”; see B. Russell, Logic and Knowledge, p. 177. This assessment of Russell’s concerning the

relation of his logical atomism to Wittgenstein’s thought is problematic. Indeed, it might be the

source of many misreadings of the relation between facts and states of affairs. The problem ap-

pears first in relation to the question of simplicity, for Russell does not think of simple objects

as containing internal complexity. But that is the reason why everything that pertains to the

realm of possibilities must be expressed through external relations, thus in relation to molecu-

lar propositions rather than elementary propositions. For that reason logical structure is part of

the constitution of reality. There is no sense in speaking of a perspective on the world apart

from logic. There is no opening to possibilities apart from the space of possibilities given by

logic.

attempt to show that these must be viewed as two perspectives on theworld, rather than as placed in some hierarchical ordering.

In response to a letter from Russell asking for clarification of the dif-ference between a Tatsache and a Sachverhalt, Wittgenstein writes:

Sachverhalt is what corresponds to an Elementarsatz if it is true.Tatsache is what corresponds to the logical product of elementarypropositions when this product is true. The reason why I introduceTatsache before introducing Sachverhalt would want a long explana-tion.9

Wittgenstein does not say that a Tatsache is a logical product of Sach-verhalten. He says that it corresponds to the logical product of elementarypropositions. This apparently pedantic distinction on my part is actuallyessential. If we were to say that it is the fact itself that is a conjunction ofstates of affairs, this would imply that there is a relation (that of con-junction) between those states of affairs. But what Wittgenstein wants toemphasize is precisely that a fact consists of states of affairs that stand inno logical relation whatsoever to one another, that are independent ofone another (2.061). States of affairs merely co-exist. There is nothingthat holds states of affairs together to constitute a specific fact. A fact is,ontologically speaking, just the taking place or existence of individualstates of affairs.

This then clarifies the nature of the contrast between the two perspec-tives. Speaking of the perspective of facts, Wittgenstein emphasizes thatfacts are in logical space, that “The facts in logical space are the world”(1.13). But as he shifts to the perspective of states of affairs, logicalspace, as it were, disappears.10 A fact is just the existence of states of

28 Signs of Sense

9. LRKM, p. 72.

10. Such a shift away from the logical space that surrounds facts explains the rather puz-

zling sequence of claims: “The world divides into facts” (1.2); and “Each item can be the case

or not the case while everything else remains the same” (1.21). Why state that “The world di-

vides into facts” after having said that “The world is the totality of facts”? What is the nature of

this division that makes it worth mentioning? And is it not contradictory to assert that facts are

in a logical space and then say that the division into facts results in items that are logically inde-

pendent of one another? I assume that the possibility of that division must reinforce the sense

that there is a perspective from which logical relations are seen to disappear. Thus the division

is the possibility of separating all the facts into classes, such that the existence of any one class

is independent of any other class. When Wittgenstein says that “Each item can be the case or

not the case while everything else remains the same” (1.21), he does not mean that any fact re-

affairs, their bare existence with no logical relations between them.11

Whereas facts are surrounded by possibilities in logical space, states ofaffairs stand in logical isolation.12

It is not the case that state of affairs are just the simplest kinds of facts.Rather, I take it that Wittgenstein emphasizes that states of affairs coverall the space of facts, or include within themselves all that is covered bythe perspective of facts. This means that a complete description of theworld through the perspective of facts can be replaced with a completedescription of the world through the perspective of states of affairs.

In the more common reading of the Tractatus, there would be simplefacts as well as complex facts. The simple facts by themselves would notcover all the space of facts by themselves. To cover all of reality wewould then need to invoke logical combinations of states of affairs.Doing so would immediately demand that we assume the ontologicalreality of logical constants and take logical space as constitutive of theultimate structure of the world. My reading attempts to make the per-spective of facts and that of states of affairs overlap completely. It is mo-tivated in part by the assumption that logical constants do not have on-tological reality and laws of logic are not contentful, an assumptionwhich Wittgenstein repeatedly asserted and to which I will return inlater chapters.

Wittgenstein’s statement, “The facts in logical space are the world,”could be interpreted as meaning that logical space is one of the constitu-ents of the world, together with facts. In that case it cannot be dispensed

Logic Apart 29

lates to any other fact in that way (since some of them obviously stand in logical dependen-

cies). Rather, the “item” is a class of facts that is independent, logically speaking, of all other

such classes. All such classes exhaust whatever facts there are in the world. Considering these

classes we need not invoke any kind of logical relations between the various “items.” They are

logically independent. That independence prepares the transition to speaking of states of af-

fairs. Indeed, one could say that any such class contains all the ‘material’ that is implicit in a

state of affairs.

11. The tendency to think of a fact as a logical combination of states of affairs might result

from reading back onto the ontological level Wittgenstein’s claim that all propositions are the

result of truth—functional operations on elementary propositions.

12. Such an initial picture of the space between facts being internal to facts requires that all

facts be at the same level, that there be no hierarchies of facts. That is, there is no ground level of

facts and then a second level of the facts as to the relation of those facts, and so on. In other

words, there are no facts about facts. We will see this insight developed in the context of

Wittgenstein’s distinction between saying and showing.

with even at the level of states of affairs. Granted, the notions of logicalspace and fact are correlative, but this does not require that logical spacebe viewed as a constituent added to facts. That facts are in this spacemeans that logical space belongs internally to what it is to be a fact. Thisdoes not make logical space a reality external to facts, which belongs tothe furniture of the universe. When Wittgenstein writes “The facts inlogical space are the world,” it is precisely to emphasize that logicalspace is not an additional entity but a condition of facticity as such.13

The logic of facts, the relations of implication among facts, are not ex-ternal properties of facts. Indeed, to have a fact is to have something thatis, for instance, negatable or conjoinable with other facts. Placing factsin logical space brings out the way a fact is internally related to variouslogical possibilities. Logical space is not an entity in which facts are em-bedded. One could say that each and every fact opens a space around itthat is determined by the particular fact it is. This is the space of inferen-tial relations of that fact—the various logical possibilities that are intrin-sically related to the taking place of that fact. The aim of adopting a per-spective apart from logic, as I initially understood this move, is to shiftaway from the perspective of facts. To go beyond that perspective is toview the world in terms of states of affairs, recognizing which states ofthings there are. This does not mean that a state of affairs is a differentkind of entity than a fact. Obviously, states of affairs are facts, but theyhave another aspect, which is revealed by turning to their constituents.In states of affairs the objects are given to us. The space of states of af-fairs is the space of possibilities opened by objects. But I want to empha-size that this is a different space from what Wittgenstein calls the logicalspace of facts.

Speaking somewhat figuratively, we can also say that a fact opens ontoan outside, onto other facts, whereas a state of affairs is closed upon it-

30 Signs of Sense

13. Wittgenstein’s use of the term ‘logic’ is complex, and there are reasons for that complex-

ity. When I emphasize the aim of viewing the world apart from the perspective of logic, I take

logic to be something like Frege and Russell’s view of logic. Wittgenstein also uses logic to

mean something like the philosophical investigation into the nature of that conception (as in

2.012). He uses the notion of space both in connection with logic (‘logical space’ as in 1.13,

4.463) and in connection with objects (as in 2.013, 2.0131). In his discussion of space in rela-

tion to objects, what is emphasized is that such space is internal to what the object is. It is not

an entity that stands over and above such objects. This should also be the way one understands

the notion of logical space surrounding a fact. In Chapter 2 I will develop further the under-

standing of form based on the identification of form and space.

self, or its connection to other such states is made through its inner con-stitution—its objects. Its space is the space of its objects. This does notmean that it cannot be taken as a fact, only that viewed in itself it revealssomething other than the space-of-facts (logical space).14 These issueswill be discussed later at length; here I should just like to stress that astate of affairs is where two aspects of reality come together (call themthe form and the content). On the one hand, by virtue of the determi-nate way in which the objects of the state of affairs are combined, thestate of affairs is a fact. The state of affairs viewed as a fact stands in aspace of possibilities spanned by logic. On the other hand, in a state ofaffairs we are given objects, and thus there is also a realm of possibilitiesdetermined by the nature or form of the objects.15 I assume that whilethese two perspectives overlap, the view of the world through its objectspresents us with substantive possibilities (I will also use the term ‘realpossibilities’ to indicate this aspect), whereas logical space gives us onlyabstract or formal possibilities. To think of the world apart from logic, orbeyond facticity, is to open up to real possibilities.

Although the above may point at the direction to take when interpret-ing the opening of the Tractatus, it cannot show how such an interpreta-tion would work in detail. In particular, we need to clarify how to deter-mine possibilities at the level of states of affairs without assuming logicalspace, the space of facts. To appreciate the kind of problems such an ac-count can raise, let us consider the following two propositions: “Theworld is determined by the facts, and by their being all the facts”(1.11);“For the totality of facts determines what is the case, and also whateveris not the case” (1.12). This claim might at first sound trivial: if we listall that is the case, then what remains is what is not the case. But thingsare not so simple. The question is precisely how to determine what re-mains? How is what remains determined by all that is the case? In the

Logic Apart 31

14. The German term Wittgenstein uses, ‘vorkommen,’ which has the connotation of com-

ing out (from beneath the cover of facts), reveals the connection between states of affairs and

the appearance of the object, its uncovering.

15. Wittgenstein’s distinction between ‘situation’ (Sachlage) and ‘state of affairs’ (Sachver-

halt) marks these two perspectives. He uses ‘Sachlage’ to emphasize the factual aspect of states

of affairs. Thus ‘Sachlage’ can be used in relation to facts in general, but also to emphasize the

factual aspect of states of affairs. See, for instance, 2.0122, where the independence of the thing

means its being considered as occurring in situations, whereas its dependence is a connection

with states of affairs.

case of facts, their being in logical space provides the necessary determi-nation; it is, for example, internal to a fact that its negation is not a factbut is possible. But Wittgenstein also states that “The totality of existingstates of affairs determines which states of affairs do not exist.” Howwould existing states of affairs determine nonexisting states of affairs?16

Indeed, whoever has a realistic conception of logic might do awaywith the problem by saying that since logical constants such as negationhave reality, we can not do without ultimate facts of the form ‘this andthat is not the case’. But if my interpretation of Wittgenstein’s intentionsis correct, he needs an account of so-called negative facts that do notpresuppose an object that is negation (or for that matter the reality oflogical constants). What this initial picture of the world is supposed toconvey is that we can have a complete account of all existing states of af-fairs and of what is merely possible, without postulating logical objects.

According to Wittgenstein’s use of the term ‘fact’, the nonexistence ofa state of affairs is not itself a fact (although the negation of a nonexis-tent state of affairs is one).17 Rather, we should say that the nonexistenceof states of affairs has reality. Understanding the notion of reality de-

32 Signs of Sense

16. To take a concrete example, given that facts are in logical space, it is a fact that such and

such is not the case; but what is this very fact composed of, in terms of states of affairs that

exist?

17. Wittgenstein’s terminology might be somewhat confusing. From his letter to Russell

quoted above we can say that facts, as Wittgenstein uses that term in the opening of the

Tractatus, are the correlates of conjunctions of true elementary propositions. He does not talk of

existing facts and nonexisting facts (facts as it were that are only possible). He reserves the term

‘fact’ for what is the case. What we would be tempted to call ‘possible facts’ should be explained

by appealing to the logical space internal to what it is to be a fact. States of affairs, as opposed to

facts, can have existence or not have existence: “The existence and non-existence of states of

affairs is reality. (We also call the existence of states of affairs a positive fact, and their non-exis-

tence a negative fact.)” (2.06). This might cause some confusion, unless we realize that the

terms ‘positive fact’ and ‘negative fact’ are replaced by Wittgenstein’s analysis of states of affairs.

“We” here does not refer to the author of the Tractatus but to the users of traditional logical no-

tions. The existence of states of affairs replaces the traditional notion of a positive fact; the non-

existence of states of affairs replaces the traditional notion of a negative fact. This shift then

points precisely to Wittgenstein’s aim to do away with the logical constants, in particular with

the operation of negation. We can account for what we called negative facts, facts which seem

essentially to involve negation, by the existence and nonexistence of states of affairs. More-

over, the states of affairs which do not exist do not involve negation, but are rather determined

by the internal constitution of those states of affairs that exist through the objects. (See Chap-

ter 2.)

pends on grasping how the existence of states of affairs determines thenonexistence of other states of affairs. It is only by considering states ofaffairs that one can understand the reality (as opposed to the facticity) ofthe possible. Indeed, it is the nature of the objects constituting the stateof affairs that will allow us this determination, which is not an inference.This point can be explained by considering Wittgenstein’s concept of anobject, its form and its relation to the structure of states of affairs.

Logic Apart 33

Signs of Sense The Form of Objects

2

The Form of Objects

The difficulty we experience in grasping Wittgenstein’s aim in his ac-count of objects derives from the prevalence of certain traditional no-tions of objecthood which are evoked by, and then imposed on, his text.It is therefore essential to be aware that Wittgenstein subverts the vari-ous distinctions that are used in the metaphysical tradition of elaborat-ing the concept of an object. Traditional approaches to the notion of ob-ject postulate some of the following oppositions: internal (essential) andexternal (material, or contingent) property, the universal and the con-crete particular, the simple and the complex, form and matter. Workingthrough the propositions concerning objects in the Tractatus revealshow Wittgenstein goes beyond these distinctions to give us another ap-proach to the object that escapes traditional frameworks.

“A state of affairs (a state of things) is a combination of objects”(2.01). We can start by asking, as we did when considering the relationof states of affairs to facts, what holds the objects together in a state ofaffairs. The answer will be similar: nothing does. There is no thing hold-ing the objects together. What holds things together cannot be anotherthing. “In a state of affairs objects fit into one another like the links of achain” (2.03). The elements of the chain are not held together by some-thing like glue, but rather hold together by virtue of their own constitu-tion. This way of putting the point is rather empty, but it can serve to il-luminate the priority of the states of affairs over the object, which wouldexplain why we need not account for the unification of objects intostates of affairs. We might nevertheless be tempted to say, wrongly, thatthere is something about an object that enables it to be combined with

34

some objects and not with others. However, there is no prohibition orlaw that divides possible from impossible combinations of objects; thereare no rules of combination. Attempting to state such a law would resultin nonsense, for it is not a fact about the object that it combines withcertain objects and not others. There are no facts about what the objectis. To take a simplistic example: the absence of red sounds does not fol-low from a law or contentful characterization of objects. There is no rea-son why sounds cannot be red.1 There is no a priori specification of therange of states of affairs. This understanding places the objects beyondthe sphere of justification. It is part of Wittgenstein’s aim to open up,through his concept of an object, a perspective beyond the lawfulnessidentified with the logical.

This means that it is wrong to think of a self-standing object and, overand above it, a contentful characterization of what states of affairs itcould appear in. The object is exhausted by its possibilities of combina-tion. Wittgenstein uses ‘object’ to name any constituent of a state of af-fairs. What distinguishes the form of one object from the form of an-other is the other objects it combines with, the states of affairs it canoccur in. We must beware of making the object into an isolated “it,”something wholly self-standing that is then placed in various facts. In-deed, many of the problems encountered when interpreting Wittgen-stein’s concept of an object arise from precisely such a reification of theobject. Thus the object’s independence—its being self-standing, insofaras it is not tied to any particular fact or insofar as it can occur in variouspossible situations—is itself definitive of the object’s dependence on thatrange of possibilities. The object is given by the states of affairs it can oc-cur in:

Things are independent insofar as they can occur in all possible situ-ations, but this form of independence is a form of connection withstates of affairs, a form of dependence. (It is impossible for words toappear in two different roles: by themselves, and in propositions.)(2.0122)

To know an object is to know its possibilities of combination, what Witt-genstein calls its form. It is impossible to understand the role of objects

The Form of Objects 35

1. This is, one could say, an ontological version of Cora Diamond’s understanding of non-

sense and of her claim that there cannot be informative nonsense. See in particular “On What

Nonsense Might Be,” in The Realistic Spirit.

and their place in states of affairs if we do not follow closely Wittgen-stein’s distinction between form and structure. Form is a notion that canbe elaborated both with respect to logical space and to what I have calledthe space of the object. I will first think of it, as Wittgenstein does, in re-lation to the object. Initially we can say that the form has to do with thepossibilities of combination of objects. The form of an object is, so tospeak, its grammar, shown through the states of affairs it can occur in.“Objects contain the possibility of all situations” (2.014); “The possibil-ity of its occurring in states of affairs is the form of an object” (2.0141).

In order to avoid the temptation of thinking of the object as an ‘it’,Wittgenstein further elaborates the account of possibilities by means ofthe analogy with a space. Thus we are invited to think of a form not somuch according to the model of a figure in space (which, I take it, wouldbe the natural understanding of form), but rather in terms of a spacetaken as a whole. Objects are not in space, as if the space were indepen-dent of the object that occurs in it. Rather, the space is precisely the formof the object. Just as there is no spatial point apart from space, so there isno object apart from the space of possibilities that characterizes it:

Just as we are quite unable to imagine spatial objects outside space,or temporal objects outside time, so too there is no object that wecan imagine excluded from the possibility of combining with others.(2.0121)

A spatial object must be situated in infinite space. (A spatial point isan argument-place.)

A speck in the visual field, though it need not be red, must havesome color: it is, so to speak, surrounded by color-space. Notes musthave some pitch, objects of the sense of touch some degree of hardness,and so on. (2.0131)

A structure is a mode of combination of objects in a state of affairs. It isthe way in which objects with given forms are combined within thatspace of forms. The articulation of the state of affairs is the structure.Wherever we have a fact, we have structure or articulation, a particularconfiguration of objects. If the central figure for elaborating form is thatof space, then the central figure for elaborating structure is that of an ar-rangement in space, a configuration. To take a simple example: supposewe have spatial objects or objects with the form of space (supposing

36 Signs of Sense

space is a form), then their arrangement in a circle would be a structureof that form. But the arrangement of those objects in a square would alsobe a structure of that form. Though these are two completely differentfigures, both are structures of the same form.2 The possibilities of variousconfigurations must be understood in the light of the analogy of formwith space. Space permits its objects to be arranged in various ways.There is, then, a categorical distinction between form and structure, be-tween space and arrangement in space. The structure is only the how ofthe relation, the form is what objects are. The structure is the specific re-lation between objects—the form is what makes those relations possible.“Form is the possibility of structure” (2.033).

Every property an object can have depends on a pre-existing form ofthat object. The form of an object, which makes the object what it is, de-termines the possibility of properties that are attributed to it contin-gently, that is, the properties that appear through the structure of facts.Form provides the background against which facts are possible. Form isnot a property of an object but the condition of the attribution of proper-ties. It can also be called an internal property of the object.

“If I am to know an object, though I need not know its external prop-erties, I must know all its internal properties” (2.01231). This mightsound as if Wittgenstein were saying that an object has two distinct setsof properties: internal properties (form) and external properties, andthat when we philosophize we deal only with the internal properties. Itmight also sound as if the very having of a property had the same gram-mar, whether we talk of an internal or an external property. This way ofputting it is, to my mind, quite misleading, for it fails to indicate the rad-ical shift that Wittgenstein makes in our understanding of these no-

The Form of Objects 37

2. To refer to an example given by Wittgenstein later on, suppose ‘being a successor’ is a

form. Then:

aRb

(∃x) aRx.xRb

(∃x,∃y) aRx.xRy.yRb

are all structures of the same form. This shows that Wittgenstein’s concept of form should be

distinguished from the Frege-Russell concept of logical form, for Frege or Russell would not

say that all these are propositions of the same logical form.

tions.3 He brings out the fundamental difference between the grammarof those attributions. A moment of reflection suffices to make evidentwhy this difference is necessary, given what was claimed about facts andstates of affairs. If ‘to have an internal property’ were to be construedwith the same grammar as ‘to have an external property,’ then it wouldbe a fact that the object has an internal property, just as it is a fact that anobject has an external property. In that case, all facts could not be re-duced to the existence of states of affairs. There would be further facts asto the nature of the objects constituting states of affairs. Wittgensteinmust preserve a clear distinction between what it is to know an objectand what it is to know a fact. This difference is fleshed out or recon-ceived in terms of the distinction between form and structure.

In order to see how the distinction between form and structure re-places the distinction between internal and external properties, weshould follow closely Wittgenstein’s formulation in 2.0231:

The substance of the world can only determine a form, and not anymaterial properties. For it is only by means of propositions that mate-rial properties are represented—only by the configuration of objectsthat they are produced.

It would be tempting to read this proposition as simply stating that eachobject can combine with various other objects and that these combina-tions are the various facts. But this interpretation does not address Witt-genstein’s emphasis on the notion of configuration, or the way in whichobjects are combined. Only by using the analogy of a space as a way tothink of the form of objects can we start to appreciate the force of theterm ‘configuration’. We realize that there are different ways of relatingobjects in the same space, and it is those ways that produce the mate-rial properties. We have what might be called a structural account offacts.

In order to flesh out this idea of a mode of configuration as distinctfrom the form of the object, we must now introduce the idea that factsalso have form. A fact has form simply by virtue of being a fact at all (not

38 Signs of Sense

3. This will be taken up explicitly when considering Wittgenstein’s treatment of formal

properties. On the confusion between internal and external properties, he writes: “I introduce

these expressions in order to indicate the source of the confusion between internal rela-

tions and relations proper (external relations) which is very widespread among philosophers”

(4.122).

a fact of space, a fact of color, a fact of time, but rather a fact at all). Theform of facts is what we have called the logical space that surrounds afact. Once more, we must be careful to point out that here too formmeans the occurrence of possibilities that are internal to the fact. Butthose possibilities are merely what is internal to being a fact at all, not tothe nature of the objects which occur in that fact. Thus it is internal to afact that it can be negated. It is part of the grasping of the form of thatfact that we understand its relation to its negation. The configurationsthat express material properties are therefore configurations of a certainform, of the form of facts in logical space. The form that allows theseconfigurations is in no way the form that determines the real possibili-ties of objects. This distinction between the form of the object and thatof the fact is essential and will recur as we develop Wittgenstein’s ac-count of picturing.

In attempting to further refine the idea of form in relation to objects,care should be taken to avoid certain misleading pictures. One attrac-tive, but to my mind false, conception of what Wittgenstein means isthat an object is a space of possibilities, as it were, laid out before us. Acombination of such objects would be a choice of particular places insuch spaces of possibility. For instance, the objects are a space of color, acoordinate system, and a time axis. A fact would then be a red square insuch and such a place between two o’clock and two thirty. The problemwith this picture is that we think of the fact as containing objects, that is,we think of the object as given in a specific fact (or we separate it fromits space). But the fact cannot give us the objects since they are whatthey are only by virtue of their relations with other possibilities; they ap-pear only through the space of combination. The object we imaginewithin a fact is falsely contained, isolated, reified, or made into an entitywhich we imagine we can grasp independently of its space of possibili-ties. Therefore we should not say that in grasping a material property weare given objects in a particular configuration, for this gives us only aconfiguration in logical space: the objects, as it were, recede from ourview. Inversely, when we have an object, we can only have a form, awhole space of possibilities, never a specific fact. We can also say that inestablishing the fact of the relation of objects, we lose the object spacethat makes the relation possible—the background. Conversely, whentrying to make the form of the objects appear, we do not take any partic-ular fact into account.

The Form of Objects 39

A correct understanding of the distinction between an internal prop-erty and an external property depends on grasping the difference be-tween the perspective of facts and that of objects. That difference ofperspective will develop into a radical distinction between what is repre-sented by propositions and what is shown through the internal relationsof their constituents. Attributing a property to an object is always a mat-ter of producing a particular structure or configuration of a space of pos-sibilities, a form. Facts are always a matter of how objects of given formsare related, always a matter of structure, articulation, or configurationgiven the form. Objects are conditions of facts. The fact is the ‘how’given a ‘what.’ A fact can be said to be skeletal; it is the specification of aconfiguration which does not include any elements to be combined. It isthe how of combination provided by logical structure in which thingsform the nodes of that structure.4

Should we say that objects ‘in themselves’ are only form? Wittgensteinwrites: “In a manner of speaking objects are colorless” (2.0232), mean-ing that they are only form and have no material properties. But this isjust a way of characterizing a different grammar of internal and externalproperties of what belongs to the object and what appears in the fact. In-deed, the claim that objects ‘in themselves’ are only form might lead tovarious misunderstandings. It might tempt us to think of objects as uni-versals. It is therefore necessary to clarify that a form is not a generalproperty.

In a certain space of form one can speak of facts concerning particularpoints in that space, or of facts about points in general. But the generalshould not be identified with the formal (in Wittgenstein’s sense). Ageneral fact is no less a fact. It is a determination of a certain configura-tion of objects rather than a form (or space of possibilities).5

Related to the misconception of forms as universals is the temptation

40 Signs of Sense

4. We must take care not to introduce here a distinction between the schematic and the

contentful that will be later reproduced as an interpretation of what happens at the level of lan-

guage. We must remember that the distinction between form and structure is drawn before lan-

guage is brought into the picture and concerns the relation between facts and objects.

5. Contrast this with, for instance, Frege’s view in which logic is correlative with the most

general properties of facts and will be expressed in fully generalized propositions. The distinc-

tion between a regular concept and something that exhibits form will become clearer in Witt-

genstein’s account of formal concepts.

to read Wittgenstein’s account of form in terms of a dichotomy betweenform and matter, as though we needed something like matter to indi-viduate and distinguish objects that have the same form. Wittgensteinavoids drawing such a distinction between form and matter:6

If two objects have the same logical form, the only distinction be-tween them, apart from their external properties, is that they are differ-ent. (2.0233)

Let us consider again the analogy with space. Two points in space havethe same form, and apart from their external properties, the fact of theirrelation with other points, there is nothing that distinguishes them. Aswe move to the level of language, the statement that distinctness appearsthrough external properties or facts translates into the claim that theonly distinction we can make is by representing such facts: by describingan object in such a way as to distinguish it from another. Thus there isno way to determine absolute difference.

This is further reinforced by the following proposition, with its pecu-liarly convoluted structure:

Either a thing has properties that nothing else has, in which case wecan immediately use a description to distinguish it from the others andrefer to it; or, on the other hand, there are several things that have thewhole set of their properties in common, in which case it is quite im-possible to indicate one of them.

For if there is nothing to distinguish a thing, I cannot distinguish it,since otherwise it would be distinguished after all. (2.02331)

This formulation has an empty sound which warns us against trying tocome up with a substantive notion (such as matter) to explain the differ-ence of individuals. One would think that absolute difference could beexpressed by means of the proposition �(a � b).(∀f )(fa ↔ fb), whichwould then allow us to say that two objects that share all properties aredifferent, and would enable us to make this difference into a fact. Butjust as Wittgenstein’s shift away from the perspective of facts and logic

The Form of Objects 41

6. This avoidance might suggest a certain bond between the recognition of the particular

case and the recognition of possibilities. It points to Wittgenstein’s tendency to distance himself

from any attempt to determine form in advance, in theory, as universal ideas, apart from in-

stances of experience in all their particularity.

implies that logical constants have no ontological reality, so nothing cor-responds to the relation of identity. There is no translation, in termsof elementary propositions, of �(a � b).(∀f )(fa ↔ fb). We cannot ulti-mately say that two objects have all their properties in common yet aredifferent. Two different objects will just be given two different names ina proper notational system.

Wittgenstein’s characterization of objects as subsistent, unalterable,making up the substance of the world, tempts us to turn them into eter-nal ideas, to entirely dissociate them from happenings in the world, fromthe concreteness of experience. Brooms or beds cannot simply be ob-jects, it seems. We are tempted to think of such objects as existing neces-sarily, and our grasp of them as a priori. I want to insist nevertheless thatconsidering states of affairs, and thus objects, provides a different per-spective on experience. Their connection with facts is yet to be madeclear, but we should be alert at this point against assuming various mis-leading presuppositions. It is true that the objects form the backgroundof alteration, of configuration, of the changeable and the unstable, butthey cannot be recognized apart from an investigation of phenomena.Indeed, as I understand it, Wittgenstein’s insistence on distancing him-self from traditional accounts of form is ultimately connected to his wishnot to reify the space of possibilities, not to make it a realm of a prioriideas distinct from experience.

These considerations allow us now to address a deep confusion con-cerning simplicity in the Tractatus. In it Wittgenstein never uses theterm ‘simple object’, which would imply that some objects are simpleand some are complex, but states that “objects are simple.” Nor does hesay that every object is simple. The claim that objects are simple does notexpress accidental generality but defines the very concept of an object,the essential distinction between objects and facts, or between what anobject is and what can be attributed to it through its appearance in situa-tions. In the traditional picture we think of simple objects as a subset ofall objects, as those which are the ultimate ‘building blocks’ or atoms ofreality. The picture I suggest makes the simplicity of the object constitu-tive of the notion of objecthood. It is opposed to the articulability offacts, or their inherent complexity. It marks a distinction between factsand the condition of facts.

Wittgenstein writes: “Every statement about complexes can be re-

42 Signs of Sense

solved into a statement about their constituents and into the proposi-tions that describe the complexes completely” (2.0201). It is significantthat this statement concerns language. We can treat a fact as if it were anobject by naming it, but this does not make it into a complex object. Itwill always be resolved in analysis. Complexity is always a matter offact. A fact and a complex are one and the same. There is no complexobject over and above the fact that consists of the specific relation ofits elements. Speaking of the complexity of objects is speaking non-sense.

The desire to make simple objects into a subset of all objects derives, Ithink, from a misconception of the nature of simplicity. Simplicity is of-ten pictured as uniformity, as a lack of discernible parts. This is whysense data are taken to be paradigmatic examples of simplicity. But forWittgenstein recognition of simplicity is recognition of the possibilitiesof an object as internal to what it is. A broom, for instance, might becomposed of various parts, but that does not make it complex. Onecould say that the possibilities of its parts are not in the same space asthe possibilities of the broom.

What is usually called the argument for simples in 2.021– 2.0212 isthen misinterpreted if it is conceived as involving something like a Rus-sellian notion of analysis, which leads to ultimate constituents that arereally simple. Wittgenstein would say that analysis must lead to elemen-tary propositions containing names in immediate combination. This isvery different from saying that analysis leads to logically structuredpropositions containing ultimate constituents. Wittgenstein’s schemeincorporates the logical scaffolding into the form of the object to get to alevel of names in immediate combination, so as to make contact with aworld apart from logic. Russell’s scheme complicates logical structure toget to constituents that cannot be broken down any further. In the for-mer case, the criterion of success is the disappearance of logic; in the lat-ter case, the discovery of the most basic building blocks bound with thecement of logic.

This perception calls into question the soundness of the interpretativeenterprise of filling in for Wittgenstein the category of simples, of deter-mining which of the things we encounter in experience could countas such—whether sense data or physical objects or space-time points,whether particulars or universals. The fact about the Tractatus is that

The Form of Objects 43

Wittgenstein does not present a specific category of things which are tocount as objects.7

This argument might be countered by citing proposition 2.0251:“Space, time, and color (being colored) are forms of objects.” Are we toread this as Wittgenstein’s example of objects? And if not, why doesWittgenstein speak of space, time, and being colored as forms of ob-jects? A possible reason is that these are traditional examples of the do-main of the a priori, which have a central feature in common and intro-duce the difficult claim that objects are both form and content. Theseexamples are then to be thought of in relation to the claim in 2.0121 that“we are quite unable to imagine spatial objects outside space or temporalobjects outside time.” Wittgenstein further elaborates the analogy of theform of objects with space developed in 2.013 and 2.0131 but, impor-tantly, finds traditional notions in which this conception of object couldbe said to be operative. Space does not contain spatial points. A spatialpoint is a point-in-space. Each point is what it is by having the form ofspace. The same could be said for time and for being colored. An objectis form and content (2.025). An object is form only insofar as it is insep-arable from a space of possibilities; it provides content insofar as it oc-curs as a node in a specific configuration of that space. The examplesWittgenstein gives are therefore intended to clarify the very concept ofan object rather than to serve as examples of specific objects.

Wittgenstein’s failure to specify objects is not inadvertent. It is not dueto his contempt for the kind of hard work that would constitute a suc-cessful analysis, or to a desire to obfuscate what he means by ‘object.’The concrete example is not elaborated simply because this does not be-long to the task and aim of the Tractatus. Later Wittgenstein expressesthis separation of tasks by speaking of the distinction between questionsraised about logic itself and questions that have to do with the applica-tion of logic, which we can call questions of ontology. I will discuss this

44 Signs of Sense

7. D. Pears suggests that by not specifying the nature of the objects, Wittgenstein left “a

vacuum which commentators felt obliged to fill with dogmatic interpretations, and so there

was a proliferation of exegeses offering to unlock the secrets of the ontology of the Tractatus.”

See The False Prison, vol. 1, pp. 91–92. Although I disagree with his final assessment of a basi-

cally uncritical realism concerning objects, I think that objects are a source of attraction and

mystery in the Tractatus. Indeed, I think that Wittgenstein himself conceives of the wish to ex-

press objects as one of the driving forces behind problematic pictures of ineffability. (See Chap-

ter 7 below.)

distinction in turn, but it is crucial to grasp that insofar as the Tractatushas a contentful task, it consists of accounting for what can be given allat once, before experience. Objects, as opposed to Kantian categories, donot fall into that kind of inquiry. As I will explain later, this division oftasks is not arbitrary but rather inherently related to the deeper aim ofthe book, to its ethical point.

Wittgenstein opens the book with the claim “The world is all that is thecase” (1). He further specifies “What is the case—a fact—is the exis-tence of states of affairs” (2). Later he defines the concept of reality: “Theexistence and non-existence of states of affairs is reality” (2.06) andclaims that “The sum total of reality is the world” (2.063). Does thismean that he ultimately distinguishes between the world and reality?This series of claims seems to be inconsistent: how could reality be morethan the world (since it contains the nonexisting states of affairs in addi-tion to the existing ones) and yet its sum total be the world? In whatsense do nonexistent states of affairs have reality if they have no exis-tence? In sum, what is Wittgenstein’s account of possibility? The con-cept of possibility, of what could be the case but is not the case, can beunderstood by means of the idea of logical space or the space of facts,but the above interpretation of states of affairs was to lead to a differentgrasp of the possible, one that depends ultimately on objects’ havingform. The notion of form opens a way of moving from existing states ofaffairs to the determinate totality of those that do not exist.

“The existence and non-existence of states of affairs is reality” (2.06).That reality includes nonexistent states of affairs does not imply thatthere are more facts in the world than those that are the case—a fact ismerely what is the case. Nor does it imply that there are objects that ex-ist and objects that only subsist. When Wittgenstein writes that “Thesum total of reality [gesamte Wirklichkeit] is the world” (2.063), theterm ‘gesamte Wirklichkeit’ should rather be read as meaning all that thisamounts to is the world, as it is given in states of affairs. ‘Sum total’ doesnot mean the numerical sum; it is not the totality of everything put to-gether but what that totality amounts to—what counts, not what iscounted. The world is the totality of facts, but the reality of nonexistingstates of affairs is the result of the form of things. It adds nothing to thefacts there are or to the things there are. The notion of reality is the re-sult of drawing a distinction between facts and their conditions. The

The Form of Objects 45

condition of having facts is that there is a form within which facts takeplace. By grasping that form, we grasp what it is for states of affairs to ex-ist, and what it is for states of affairs not to exist.

It is important to note that Wittgenstein does not argue that an exist-ing state of affairs determines the nonexistence of other states of af-fairs. He writes: “The totality of existing states of affairs also determineswhich states of affairs do not exist” (2.05). The idea of a totality of exist-ing states of affairs allows Wittgenstein to distinguish the concept of de-termination from inference. “From the existence or non-existence of onestate of affairs it is impossible to infer the existence or non-existence ofanother” (2.062). Indeed, when we speak of facts in logical space, suchinferential relations would hold. From p being the case we can infer that�p is not the case. But in order to determine which states of affairs donot exist, we must consider the existing states of affairs as a whole. They,through their objects, will allow us to grasp the whole space of possibili-ties and thus to determine the nonexisting states of affairs without thisbeing a matter of inference.

In other words, what is real for us is not just that a state of affairs ex-ists, but also that a state of affairs does not exist. The nonexistence of astate of affairs should be distinguished from no reality at all, and the ba-sis for that distinction is that objects have form. What is not the case isnot nothing, but it is not a fact either. There is something real beyondthe facts: that which makes facts possible; this is what I will call the hori-zon of form.

The Wittgensteinian understanding of objects through the notion ofform establishes a connection between an object and real possibilities.An object cannot be grasped apart from a space of possibilities. So wecan now use this conception of object to open a perspective beyond theconditions of possibility provided by logic. What are the possibilities ofan object? Do possibilities exist in the world apart from human sub-jects? How are they opened to our view, or how do we open ourselves tothem? These are questions that cannot be answered at this stage of ourinquiry, for one of the most important requirements for a proper readingof the Tractatus is to know when to ask the right questions.

46 Signs of Sense

Signs of Sense “We Make to Ourselves Pictures of Facts”

3

“We Make to Ourselves Picturesof Facts”

One of the most striking features of the opening propositions of theTractatus is the impression they create of a world without any humansubjects. This is not only because the discussion mostly avoids mention-ing language or thought, but also because the very tone, the matter-of-factness of these opening moments makes one imagine a world of merefacts. Indeed, some of the most influential interpreters of the Tractatusseem to react to this humanless world by forcing a problem upon thetext for which subjectivity is the only solution. According to them, thebook’s central concern is how language is connected onto this world ofbrute facts. Thus, far too quickly in my view, the subject is brought intoa relation with this humanless world by means of the assumption thatsubjectivity will secure the connection between language—a humanconstruction—and the world as such. This conceptualization of theproblem might seem useful when thinking about various issues in thebook: it can be used to explain, for instance, the supposed emptiness oflogic, the formal aspect of Wittgenstein’s account, by locating languageapart from the world, in the sphere of human convention. But I thinkthat to impose a division between the realm of language and that of facts,and thereby to create the problem of relating them, goes far beyond theintent of the text and may lead to misinterpretations.

Specifically, this reading suggests that the central problem in picturingfacts is how something that is other than the world of fact, namely lan-guage, can be related to that world so as to be about it. Yet as we readWittgenstein’s account, we realize that pictures are facts, and the ques-tion we should ask is rather how certain facts can be used to represent

47

other facts. This formulation of the problem reduces the temptation toresort to a metaphysical subject in order to guarantee the connection be-tween these two domains of facts.

I certainly recognize the initial impression of a world devoid of hu-man subjects, but I wish to refrain from introducing subjectivity so sooninto the account of picturing. I also acknowledge that some connectiondoes exist between picturing and human activity, for, as Wittgensteinputs it, we do make pictures to ourselves (2.1). But we should note thatWittgenstein systematically avoids introducing intentions of humansubjects into his account of picturing. Indeed, the Tractatus treats the re-lation of propositions to facts as unproblematic. It asks us to acknowl-edge a deep level at which the form of language and that of objects isone. The difficulty is not that of specifying a complex relation betweenlanguage, or mind, and the world, by virtue of which language is aboutthe world, but rather that of perceiving their mutual involvement in pro-ducing the very possibility of significance.

A proper understanding of Wittgenstein’s account of picturing is afundamental crossroads in the text. It relates to later issues such as theunderstanding of the subject and the ethics of the Tractatus. Various pre-suppositions about the place of the subject are based on the assumptionthat the Tractatus gives a substantive account of the relation betweenlanguage and world, that is, that there is a need for an account of refer-ence. A subject will therefore be involved in order to secure the relationof language to the world. Much of my discussion of picturing will be de-voted to arguing, on the contrary, that there is no fundamental issue orsubstantive theory of the relation of language to the world. That is, I ar-gue that such a relation is characterized at the most fundamental level asone of identity. This means that language and objects are equiprimor-dial: we discover our world through language. Such a shift in the under-standing of language and world will also mean a total shift in our con-ception of the subject. It will also allow us to elaborate the dimensions ofthe unveiling of truth, understood as the discovery of the identity of lan-guage and world—an unveiling which may very well have an ethical di-mension to it.1

48 Signs of Sense

1. This remark serves only to indicate the direction of my reading. The issues mentioned

will be elaborated at length in chapters 8, 9, and 10 below.

In order to bring out these issues, my discussion of picturing will con-trast the representation of facts (through the structure of pictures) withthe pictorial form that provides a locus of identity between language andthings. This distinction introduces into my interpretation of picturingthe split between the articulation of the structure of facts and the form ofobjects, a split that I identified in talking about the opening propositionsof the Tractatus.

It is this intuition that will guide me through a reading of Wittgen-stein’s discussion of picturing. I will thus endeavor to address both thepossibility of representing facts and the sense that such a capacity doesnot characterize the subject for us. If the most general capacity of relat-ing through pictures to facts is what Wittgenstein calls thinking, thismeans that such thinking is not wholly constitutive of human subjectiv-ity (“There is no such thing as the subject that thinks or entertainsideas”; 5.631).

Many commentators emphasize that we should understand a picturethrough the concept of an isomorphism. It is a picture of some fact, weare told, if its elements are arranged in the same way as the objects arearranged in reality. Two things are thus identified: what makes a picturea picture—the pictoriality of the picture—and what makes it a correctpicture of some specific fact.

A mere glance at the text, however, raises doubts about this interpre-tation. We note first that pictures can be correct or incorrect. But if pic-turing is defined by its isomorphism to the fact, then something wouldbe a picture only if there were a corresponding fact. How could there bean incorrect picture? One way of thinking of false pictures would be tosay that isomorphism obtains between the picture and a possibility. Thissolution has a drawback, since it would fail to explain what distin-guishes the representation of a possible state of affairs, thus a false pic-ture, from a correct representation of what is the case. The capacity ofthe picture to represent possibilities must be independent of the relationthat determines its truth or falsity.

Indeed, this stress on isomorphism as the central component of theaccount of picturing leads us to think of picturing mainly in terms of arelation between structures. But I should like to shift the emphasis to therole of form (as elaborated in the previous chapter) in the account of

“We Make to Ourselves Pictures of Facts” 49

picturing. Shifting the emphasis from structure to form will, I think,provide a wholly different interpretation of Wittgenstein’s account.2

To understand the use and function of the notion of picturing in theTractatus we first have to sort out the distinctions among five terms thatWittgenstein introduces: (a) “Standing for” or “being representative”(vertreten): “In a picture the elements of the picture are the representa-tives of objects” (2.131); (b) “depicting” (abbilden): “A picture can de-pict any reality whose form it has” (2.17); (c) “presenting” (vorstellen):“A picture presents a situation in logical space, the existence and non-ex-istence of states of affairs” (2.11); (d) “representing” (darstellen): “A pic-ture represents a possible situation in logical space” (2.202); and (e)“agreeing” (stimmen): “A picture agrees with reality or fails to agree; it iscorrect or incorrect, true or false” (2.21).

A. Being Representative

A central drawback of the interpretation that emphasizes the isomorph-ism of structure in the account of picturing is that it sidetracks us toproblems of reference, prompting us to ask what it is that enables the el-ements of the picture to refer to objects in the world so as to make theisomorphism possible. We are then led to think of Wittgenstein’s notionof ‘being representative’ as involving an account of reference. But Witt-genstein merely says: “That is how a picture is attached to reality; itreaches right out to it” (2.1511). Rather than accusing Wittgenstein ofphilosophical naivete, we should realize that he is not at all concernedwith giving an account of reference at this point.

Wittgenstein’s account of picturing does not include an account of ref-erence. This can explain why he uses the term ‘being representative’rather than ‘meaning’ (bedeuten) for the relation of the elements of thepicture to objects. Indeed, the term ‘representative’ suggests some arbi-trariness in the choice of the element. Its properties are unimportant be-yond the fact that it stands for an object. Picturing does not depend

50 Signs of Sense

2. To avoid misunderstanding, I note that the term ‘isomorphism’ is used in interpretations

of picturing to characterize the relation between arrangements of representatives in the picture

and arrangements of objects in the world. Isomorphism might also be used to characterize a

mapping from one space to another that shows a fundamental identity of form between such

spaces. In that case form would be used to characterize a space in which various structures or

arrangements are possible.

upon the external properties of the elements that are the representatives.Such a relation of representativeness, ‘standing for’ rather than ‘mean-ing,’ implies at least that we should ask not how such a correlation canbe established or by virtue of what a given element refers to an object,but rather, given that elements stand for objects, how do we use suchrepresentatives to make pictures of facts. (As in the case of political rep-resentatives, what ought to be important is how they represent theirconstituencies, once they are elected.)

Wittgenstein showed his lack of interest in the nature of those repre-sentatives and their connection with things in his response to Russell’squery on this matter: “Again, the kind of relation of the constituents ofthought and of the pictured fact is irrelevant. It would be a matter ofpsychology to find it out.”3

Thus Wittgenstein assumes the barest contact with the world, that webring words to the world. The picture reaches right out to the world, ashe says in 2.1511: “The correlations are, as it were, the feelers of the pic-ture’s elements, with which the picture touches reality” (2.1515). Theterm ‘feelers’ suggests that the touching tests how reality responds, seek-ing to feel it, to uncover it, or get a sense of it, rather than referring to analready given reality.4

Let us consider another analogy suggested by Wittgenstein in propo-sitions 2.1511–2.1513: “[A picture] is laid against reality like a measure.Only the end points of the graduating lines actually touch the object thatis to be measured.” In measuring we do not ask what enables the ruler torefer to the object. No property of the ruler itself determines what it rep-resents. The ruler in itself says nothing about the object. Rather, theruler can be used in a certain way to determine a fact (the fact that theobject has such-and-such a length). I bring the ruler to reality, which is

“We Make to Ourselves Pictures of Facts” 51

3. LRKM, p. 72. P. M. S. Hacker, quoting this claim, confuses the relation of representative-

ness with that of meaning, which results in an unfounded criticism of Wittgenstein’s psycho-

logistic tendencies in the Tractatus. See Insight and Illusion, pp. 39–57.

4. I find it extremely interesting that in “Beyond the Pleasure Principle” Freud uses the

same figure of feelers to express the activity of perception in relation to an external reality: “It is

characteristic of [sense organs] that they deal with only very small quantities of external stimu-

lation and only take in samples of the external world. They may perhaps be compared with feel-

ers which are all the time making tentative advances towards the external world and then draw-

ing back from it.” S. Freud, Standard Edition, vol. 18, p. 28. In the case of both Freud and

Wittgenstein, what follows is a problematization of what it is for a human subject to have an

object.

not to say that the ruler is somehow isomorphic to reality, only that afact results from the encounter of the ruler with reality.

The figure of touching also makes clear that the object is not taken upinto what the picture says. It has representatives, but this is preciselywhy it escapes being present there, in its essence. What there is to saydepends on the scale we bring to the object, and saying whatever we saywill be distinct from recovering the object.

B. Depicting

A picture depicts the reality it is about. It depicts a reality even though itcan be an incorrect representation of that reality. That it is about realityhas to do with the identity of form: “What a picture must have in com-mon with reality, in order to be able to depict it—correctly or incor-rectly—in the way it does, is its pictorial form” (2.17).

We should bear in mind, from the account of objects and facts, thesharp distinction between form and structure. Form is the possibility ofstructure. The structure will determine the specific situation that is pre-sented, but that it is a picture, that it depicts anything at all, is due to anidentity of form and not to an isomorphism of structure. “There must besomething identical in a picture and what it depicts, to enable the one tobe a picture of the other at all” (2.161). It should be noted that Wittgen-stein speaks here of identity. He does not use weaker terms such as ‘har-mony,’ ‘similarity,’ or ‘agreement.’ At the level of form, there must be anidentity between the picture and the reality depicted, whether the pictureis correct or incorrect. This explains how a picture can be incorrect: theform will be such as to enable us to construct a structure that does notagree with reality and yet can still be about it, since it has the same formas that reality. Placing representatives of objects in a background of formwill produce a way in which those are related in fact.

C. Presenting

“A picture presents a situation in logical space, the existence and non-existence of states of affairs” (2.11). A picture, in itself, is a certain fact(see 2.141). The picture, we should recall, is not an object. In the picturethere are elements that stand for objects, but the constitution of those el-ements is irrelevant to what the picture presents. The picture consists of

52 Signs of Sense

the arrangement of elements in the space of form to make a structure, afact. A picture is a fact—the fact of the relation of its elements. Just likeany fact, the picture itself stands in logical space. It is, then, the fact ofthe relation of its elements in logical space.

By emphasizing that a picture is a fact, Wittgenstein intends to ad-dress the possible criticism that a picture could be interpreted in differ-ent ways. Take, for example, a picture of flowers in a vase. We mightwant to say that it can present different things: that the flowers are in thevase, or that the flowers are beautiful, or that there are 12 flowers in thevase, or that the vase holding the flowers is blue. This criticism wouldseem to depend on thinking of the picture as a kind of object that couldbe said to have various properties, to consist of various facts, and that itis up to us to decide which fact it presents. What causes the apparent dif-ficulty is, first, that we do not treat the elements of the picture as mererepresentatives of objects, but, as it were, take them to have variousproperties which could be seen as relevant or irrelevant, thereby decid-ing what is expressed in the picture. Moreover, we do not take the spaceof form as determined, or we ignore that what is at stake is the arrange-ment of elements in a space of form. (In the above example, we intro-duce color space only when we take the picture to present the fact thatthe vase holding the flowers is blue, and at other times ignore it.) InWittgenstein’s account, a picture need not await our interpretation for itto be a determinate fact.

“The fact that the elements of a picture are related to one another in adeterminate way presents (vorstellt) that things are related to one an-other in the same way” (2.15). We might indeed ask why a picture is notjust another fact, of a certain form. How is it that the picture presentssomething other than itself? How does it present that objects are relatedin the same way as its elements? Do we not need to introduce here theintention that the picture be about something? We must clarify what ismeant here by the term ‘presenting.’ The picture is indeed taken to be amodel of how things are, but even if we were to introduce (contrary toWittgenstein’s language) some intention on the part of the one whomakes such a picture, the intention in no way determines the referenceof the picture, or makes it about reality. Intentions can be involved to theextent that what is at stake here is an activity of human beings whichhas various purposes. But I want to take this appeal to our activity asunproblematic, at least at this stage. Intention, in some metaphysical

“We Make to Ourselves Pictures of Facts” 53

sense, is not needed to make something into a picture, in the sense of se-curing its relation to its subject matter. Indeed, enough of the intentionis implicit in the idea of having representatives for objects. We arbitrarilychoose certain terms with the intention that what we do with themwould stand for what happens to objects. But such an intention does notmake the elements function in such a way. There are various conditionsfor the possibility of picturing which must come into play, such as anidentity of form, which is not ours to make. Insofar as we can speak ofthe aboutness of the picture, it involves an identity of form.

The central precondition for picturing is what one might call thebackground of the picture—the form. This pre-existence of the back-ground of form has various consequences, which I want to start elabo-rating at an initial, intuitive level. We place elements in a space of form,but it is form that makes them a fact. The factuality of the picture takescare of itself. However we place elements in a space, an arrangement isestablished; they present us with a fact in that space. One could also saythat there is no nonsense in a picture.5 There is no way of placing the el-ements so that nothing specific will result. There is also no vagueness ina picture: the properties of the elements are unessential, the only impor-tant thing is their place, as representatives in a pre-given space of form,and this arrangement is always a specific fact.

A picture is always contingent. There are no a priori pictures. Whenwe see something pictured (say, some elements in some spatial relation)we can also see how the elements could be placed in a different position(suppose we move this one to the right; I can see that it is possible whenI see the picture). Nothing in our visual space is necessarily where it is,and the same is true of pictorial space. What makes a picture a picture isidentity of form, and form is the possibility of structure; hence whateveris pictured could be otherwise than it is. It already stands in a space ofpossibilities which is constituted by the form.

54 Signs of Sense

5. D. Pears seems to acknowledge this, but then retracts the claim in reflecting on language:

“once the systems for producing pictures has been set up, there is no risk that a would-be pic-

ture might make an impossible claim . . . false claims are possible but not nonsensical ones.

However, that is plainly not true of language, because it is not only possible but easy to produce

nonsensical strings of words.” The False Prison, vol. 1, p. 121. Of course it is possible to have

nonsensical strings of words, but this just means that nonsense cannot be produced at the level

in which form comes into play; that is, there is no such thing as nonsense deriving from cate-

gory mistakes. Indeed, a complete translation of the account of picturing, in particular the no-

tion of form, to the level of language precisely shows that nonsense does not occur at the level

of form or at the level of the symbol.

Finally, a picture cannot depict the space of possibilities itself. Itmakes sense to speak of showing the properties of space through theplacing of objects, or more precisely by considering the internal rela-tions between various ways of placing objects in that space. But I cannotpresent in a picture with no objects at all the necessary properties ofspace itself. “A picture cannot, however, depict its pictorial form: it dis-plays it” (2.172).

D. Representing

“A picture represents its subject from a position outside it. (Its stand-point is its representational form.) That is why a picture represents itssubject correctly or incorrectly” (2.173). We might have learned some-thing from the claim that there must be something identical in the pic-ture and in the reality depicted, but why is it worth mentioning that apicture represents its subject matter (Wittgenstein’s term is Objekt) froma position outside it? What is the nature of the distance between the pic-ture and what it aims at—its subject matter? We have already estab-lished that there is an identity of form of depiction between the pictureand reality. Wittgenstein distinguishes between ‘form of depiction’ and‘form of representation’. The former comes to express the identity withreality, the latter the distance—the standpoint apart from the subjectrepresented.

The form of representation determines the possibilities of makingsense with a picture. The picture represents a sense. Those possibilitiesare external to the reality depicted, insofar as they are possibilities of themedium of representation.

The distinction can be further elaborated as follows: we can use thepicture, operate with the means of representation, in a way which is notnecessarily congruent with the form of depiction. A spatial picture pres-ents a reality of the spatial form, but this form does not determine thepossibilities of using the picture to make a claim about reality. I can, forinstance, use such a picture to express the sense that things are not likethat. Negation is not a possibility in visual space, but it is an option ofconstruction in representational space. We can also say that the issue iswhat we can do with the picture. In the case of presentation this is notan option, for the way in which objects are combined presents thatthings are combined in the same way. But precisely because there is a dis-tance between the picture and the object, I can use a picture to express

“We Make to Ourselves Pictures of Facts” 55

anything in its representational space. Such use determines the stand-point of the picture with respect to the facts. It gives us directions as tohow to take what is presented. Such directions, the way of taking thepicture, are what Wittgenstein calls the sense of the picture.

Thus we distinguish between what a picture actually presents andwhat it can be used for (can represent). ‘Presenting’ involves how the ar-rangement of the elements makes a structure given the form of depic-tion; ‘representing’ involves the way the picture itself is taken to statesomething that might be other than what it presents.

We can use presented facts to represent other facts. For example, I canuse the spatial state of affairs that the picture presents to represent thatthings are not like that. I can use a picture to represent the negation of astate of affairs, but the spatial picture itself cannot present us with a ne-gation.6 Wittgenstein emphasizes the distinction between what a picturepresents and what it can logically represent in the following formula-tions: “A picture presents a situation in logical space, the existence andnon-existence of states of affairs” (2.11); “A picture represents a possiblesituation in logical space” (2.202). In other words, whereas presentationdirects us to how things are in fact in the picture, in representation wecan use that fact to make a possible situation, and take that possible situ-ation to be how things are.

The form of representation is not necessarily the same as the form ofdepiction. Let us call the former the space that is external to the picture,and the latter the inner space. One can use a picture (represent a possi-ble situation by means of it) without even knowing exactly what its in-ner form is. I take the picture wholesale, treating it as a fact, to representanother fact. I think of the ‘inner’ space of depiction as the form of ob-jects, and the ‘outer’ space of representation as the space of facts, namelylogical space. The split between objects and facts is thus reproduced at

56 Signs of Sense

6. Freud writes in Interpretation of Dreams: “What representation do dreams provide for ‘if,’

‘because,’ ‘just as,’ ‘although,’ ‘either-or,’ and all the other conjunctions without which we can-

not understand sentences or speeches? . . . The incapacity of dreams to express those things

must lie in the nature of the psychical material out of which dreams are made. The plastic arts

of painting and sculpture labor, indeed, under a similar limitation as compared with poetry

which can make use of speech” (Standard Edition, vol. 4, p. 312). Could we say that seeing the

world from the point of view of form, without bringing in the logical operation, opens us to a

‘dreamy’ aspect of reality? I will want to say something of the sort by showing the unsystematic

nature of meaning. The overdetermination of form in dreams or in painting is analogous to the

power of creation Wittgenstein’s text evokes in language.

the level of picturing. This is why Wittgenstein’s considerations of theform of representation are immediately followed by a discussion of logi-cal picturing.

Insofar as representation is related to our taking a fact to express a cer-tain possibility in logical space, then a precondition of representation isan identity of logical form between the picture and what is depicted:“What any picture, of whatever form, must have in common with reality,in order to be able to depict it—correctly or incorrectly—in any way atall, is logical form, i.e. the form of reality” (2.18). Here, clearly ex-pressed, is the contrast between the particular pictorial form and thegeneral possibility of picturing facts.

Every picture, whatever its inner form, can be used to represent thenonexistence of the state of affairs that it presents (or, for that matter, itcan be used to represent various logical relations between the states ofaffairs it presents). Wittgenstein can therefore say: “Every picture is atthe same time a logical one. (On the other hand, not every picture is, forexample, a spatial one.)” (2.182). It is the notion of representing thatintroduces what he will later call logical operations. The logical con-stants are operations on pictures. Making sense is operating on pictures.“What a picture represents is its sense” (2.221). The sense, then, is ex-ternal to what the picture in itself presents. There is no sense by itself;there is only the taking of what is presented to represent a sense.

The notion of logico-pictorial form should be kept distinct from thegeneral notion of pictorial form of objects. It is form only in a very spe-cial sense. Logico-pictorial form is the form of our activity of construct-ing pictures.7 This is a way of saying that there is no space spanned bylogical constants that preexists the activity of using the picture to rep-resent. Logical space, as opposed to object space, has no ontologicalreality.

“A logical picture of facts is a thought” (3). Given our understandingof the framework of representation, one could say that in thinking I usea picture to represent in a certain way. It follows from our understandingof picturing that the form of thought is the same as the form of reality:“A thought contains the possibility of the situation of which it is the

“We Make to Ourselves Pictures of Facts” 57

7. This permits an initial understanding of Wittgenstein’s claim: “The possibility of propo-

sitions is based on the principle that objects have signs as their representatives. My fundamen-

tal idea is that the ‘logical constants’ are not representatives; that there can be no representa-

tives of the logic of facts” (4.0312).

thought. What is thinkable is possible too” (3.02). Wittgenstein pro-ceeds to identify the form of reality with the form of thought by turningthe thinking of a thought into a construction of possibilities of facts outof given facts. Thinking a thought is an operation on facts, which is whythe form of thought and the form of reality are one and the same: in bothcases the form is that of facts.

A logical picture is the construction of a situation in logical space. It isa construction of something being the case (and of something not beingthe case). Logical space determines how we can take the picture to rep-resent facts. This is also what leads Wittgenstein to say: “It used to besaid that God could create anything except what would be contrary tothe laws of logic.—The truth is that we could not say what an ‘illogical’world would look like” (3.031). Our understanding of what constitutesfacts in the world and our understanding of thinking, making sense, areinternally connected. Consider in this context the metaphor of coordi-nates he introduces, in which logic is to be thought of as the coordinatesystem that allows us to represent possible facts:

It is as impossible to represent in language anything that ‘contradictslogic’ as it is in geometry to represent by its co-ordinates a figure thatcontradicts the laws of space, or to give the co-ordinates of a point thatdoes not exist. (3.032)

E. Agreement and Disagreement

A final aspect of the various relations of the picture to the world is theagreement of the sense of the picture with reality. Let us recall the dis-tinct relations of the picture and its components to reality. The first isa relation of representativeness, which exists exclusively between thecomponents of the picture and objects. It consists of the correlation of asign with an object and in no way depends on being given the form ofthe object in question. The second is the relation between pictorial formand the form of what is depicted, which is the precondition of the possi-bility of making sense. Pictorial form is the possibility of structure; it isnot something that we determine, but what allows us to make determi-nations. It makes no sense to ask: How can we be sure that we have cor-related the pictorial form properly with reality? Moreover, the ‘relation’to the world is that of identity, which is not, strictly speaking, a relationat all. A third relation that Wittgenstein introduces is the agreement or

58 Signs of Sense

nonagreement of the picture with reality. This relation between the logi-cal structure of the picture and a fact is the truth relation. The pictorialform is identical in both the picture and what it depicts, but there can becorrect and incorrect pictures.

The concept of form is what underlies our understanding of possibil-ity, that is, in grasping the form of a picture we grasp what it is for it to betrue, and what it is for it to be false. The making of sense of a specificclaim presupposes a whole space of possibilities, a form. This is crucial:the picture represents what is the case, but in doing so it allows us to de-termine also the possibilities of its falsity. We have not only a representa-tion of what must be the case if the proposition is to be true, but also thepossibility of representing what is the case if it is to be false. We do notmerely say that all the rest of the facts make it false, but we can specifywhat must be the case for it to be false. This is the point of working al-ways within a given space of possibility determined by form—truth andfalsity are always determinate.

The adequation or agreement involved in truth is not a relation of ab-solute correspondence. The problem with a correspondence theory, asFrege has pointed out, is that the relation of correspondence is con-ceived to be a real relation. It would then be possible to ask whether it istrue that it holds or not, and this would cause a regress in our determi-nation of truth. Wittgenstein avoids that by making agreement dependon a form that is always identical in both the proposition and reality. Thepossibility of truth depends on a relation between the proposition andreality, the pictorial relation, which is not a material relation (the formsare identical); that is, we cannot ask whether the pictorial relation doesin fact hold between the sense and reality, since the very possibility of itshaving a sense depends on having that identity of form. Truth is always arelative, internal truth: it is an agreement given certain conditions, not afact of absolute agreement. Whether the picture is true or false, therewill be an internal connection with the world. Depending on whetherthe picture is true or false, there will be ‘different parts’ of the logicalspace of the sense that will agree with the facts, but such agreement willalways exist. This is precisely the point of basing the agreement on anidentity of form and not of structure, which means that the possibility ofagreement is internal to the picture. As Wittgenstein puts it later, to saythat a proposition is either true or false is not like saying that all rosesare either yellow or red (6.11).

This account of truth leads us to appreciate that what is philosophi-

“We Make to Ourselves Pictures of Facts” 59

cally important is not the question concerning the relation of adequa-tion, but rather the universe of form that conditions it. One might saythat there is a deeper notion of truth, which is that of the disclosure ofwhat things are, or of the form of the world. This distinction reveals yetagain Wittgenstein’s attempt to separate the perspective of facts fromthat of objects. The question of disclosing or uncovering the form of ob-jects is a completely different activity from assessing the agreement ofsense with reality. Wittgenstein’s account distinguishes between a propo-sitional sense of truth and falsity, understood as the agreement or dis-agreement of structures with facts, and a more important idea of the un-veiling of form, which is what allows representation at all. We will be ledthrough various stages and transformations of this idea of unveiling, butit is in this idea that I locate the force of Wittgenstein’s account. He refersus to a deeper level of identity between the subject and his world, whichis presupposed in the capacity to manipulate language in order to repre-sent the world.

60 Signs of Sense

Signs of Sense Signs and Sense

4

Signs and Sense

Wittgenstein’s account of picturing in general and of thought in particu-lar leads us to examine more specifically the conditions of language andthe nature of the linguistic sign. When making the transition to his elab-oration of language, it is essential to keep in mind his account of depic-tion, especially since our object of study, the propositional sign, does notlook like a picture:

At first sight a proposition—one set out on the printed page, for ex-ample—does not seem to be a picture of the reality with which it isconcerned. But neither do written notes seem at first sight to be a pic-ture of a piece of music, nor do our phonetic notations (the alphabet)to be a picture of our speech.

And yet these sign-languages prove to be pictures, even in the ordi-nary sense, of what they represent. (4.011)

We ask, then, how the pictorial character is translated at the level of thelinguistic sign. We must make sure that the translation retains all the el-ements of the account of picturing, and, in particular, we should pay at-tention to the way in which form is translated. To ask about form in lan-guage is to ask about the appearance of the symbol through the sign,that is, about their difference as well as their essential relatedness.

Specifying the relation of sign and symbol will help address a confu-sion that might have been produced by the account of picturing. Theseparation of the form of facts (logical space) from the form of objectsand the identification of representation with logical picturing mighthave suggested a mode of access to objects and their form that com-

61

pletely bypasses the conditions of representation, that is, logic. Thiswould suggest the need to resort to a special form of intuition, non-linguistic in nature. I do not think this is Wittgenstein’s picture. The dis-tinctions he makes, as will become clear, always pertain to registers oflanguage; they express dimensions of language. Indeed, logic will beseen to be indispensable to the formation of a network of signification,and it is only through the existence of such a network that we recognizethe form of objects. Certain things are absolutely necessary to open us tothe world, to enable us to relate to objects. These will be shown to derivefrom the very nature of signification or from the existence of the linguis-tic sign. Logic provides the conditions of the linguistic sign, but thisdoes not mean that such conditions are imposed as a necessary form onexperience. Logic does not determine the form of objects that appear inlanguage or show through the use of signs.

Hence the account of linguistic signification will contain two separatemoments. The first, establishing an association between the space inwhich signs can express sense and logical space, the space of facts; thesecond, recognizing that language has a dimension that is related to, yetdistinct from, the linguistic sign, the dimension of the symbol, throughwhich the form of objects can be recovered. Thus, once more, the struc-ture of our discussion of signification will repeat at a higher level theinitial fundamental separation of facts and objects. Elaboration of thespecific interconnection between sign and symbol will enable us to rec-ognize that these two dimensions are inseparable, that both belong tolanguage as such.

Wittgenstein opens his account of signification with the claim: “In aproposition a thought finds an expression that can be perceived by thesenses” (3.1). From the outset we must beware of thinking of Wittgen-stein’s problem along Cartesian lines, wherein thought is identified withan inner mental realm and expression would be the externalization ofthat thought content in signs. Expression is not the duplication of an in-ner thought in the external world, for this distinction of inner and outerplays no role in Wittgenstein’s account. The notion of expression as it isrelated to thought must, then, be understood differently.

Our original understanding of thinking referred to the notion of logi-cal representation, or the representation of possibility in logical space.From the way we have characterized thinking, it follows that grasping a

62 Signs of Sense

thought is not the relation of a passive subject to a ready-made entity. Athought is not an object; there is only the thinking through, the produc-tion of sense, of logical pictures of facts. What is produced does notstand on its own. Thinking, one might say, has priority over the thought.This, in turn, implies that just as we assume that thoughts can be ex-pressed and communicated in language, so we need to explain howthinking can become perceptible in signs, how the result of the acts ofthinking can be perceived, that is, how they form the common groundwhich we call language. It is in this context that we must understandWittgenstein’s use of the concept of expression.

In order to make the result of thinking—the thought—perceivable,the result of the operation of thinking must become a fact in a mediumthat is perceptible to our senses. We can perceive with our senses onlywhat exists in fact. Since the thinking of a possibility does not itself re-sult in a fact, it can only be made a perceivable fact by being translated.This means that the translation must be projected onto a space of factssharing the same form, or a space whose form is merely logical form.This is the space of signs. This translation, which projects a possibilityas a fact in another medium, is what introduces the propositional sign:the fact that results from the projection of thinking. It is a possibility inlogico-pictorial space made into a linguistic fact in the space of signshaving logical form.

In the space of signs itself we can now distinguish between thefact that results from making a possibility perceptible (a propositionalsign) and the space of possibilities that is the condition of depictionas it appears in the new medium. The proposition, as opposed to thepropositional sign, shows that space of possibilities as it appearsthrough the medium of signs. Always attached to it is a propositionalsign, a fact.

I assume then that for Wittgenstein a proposition is essentially relatedto a mode of expression, to a system of signs. This is why he first charac-terizes the proposition in relation to a thought on the one hand and tothe perceptible sign on the other. A proposition occurs at the meetingplace of thinking and signs, that is, the proposition and the proposi-tional sign are elaborated conjointly. The issue is always how the form ofthought expressed as a proposition can be recovered from the factual-ization of possibility in signs perceptible by the senses. That is the rea-son that Wittgenstein introduces the concept of proposition by means of

Signs and Sense 63

the concept of the propositional sign, reversing the order of priority wewould expect:

I call the sign with which we express a thought a propositionalsign.—And a proposition is a propositional sign in its projective rela-tion to the world. (3.12)

The proposition is, one might say, the propositional sign as it exhibitsthe form of the thought in the medium of signs. It depends on the pro-jection of form onto the medium of signs.

In order to refine the relation between thought, proposition, andpropositional sign, we must elaborate the notion of projection that linksthem:

We use the perceptible sign of a proposition (spoken or written, etc.)as a projection of a possible situation. The method of projection is tothink of the sense of the proposition. (3.11)

It should be emphasized from the start that projection has nothing to dowith any activity on the part of a metaphysical subject that is supposedto secure the applicability of the proposition to the world. It is not an ex-planation of how language hooks onto the world or of the way in whichan abstract formal syntax is provided with meaning.

A projection involves two spaces and a rule of translation betweenthem. A projection is the general rule of translation between thosespaces, independently of the specific figures projected. Emphasizing as Ido the importance of form in understanding the logic of depiction, I sug-gest that what must define a projection is the identity of form betweenthe two spaces. It is the internal relation of depiction that is the invariantthat defines a projection.

Wittgenstein’s analogy with musical notation can elucidate this point:

And if we penetrate to the essence of this pictorial character, we seethat it is not impaired by apparent irregularities (such as the use of å andã in musical notation). For even these irregularities depict what theyare intended to express; only they do it in a different way. (4.013)

I assume that what Wittgenstein has in mind is the way a scale is trans-posed in musical notation. Thus if our invariant, our form, is the C-ma-jor scale, its natural expression in the standard musical notation doesnot require any sharps or flats. If we now project it, starting from an-

64 Signs of Sense

other pitch, say G, we will have to introduce the notation of å in order tokeep the same succession of intervals; that is, we introduce apparent ir-regularities in order to retain the same form, that of a major scale. Thisapparent irregularity is necessary in order to express the invariant formin the new key.

A scale is not a specific musical composition. Wittgenstein does notthink of projection in relation to structures but rather as determiningthe invariance of form. There is a rule of translation, or projection be-tween spaces, which determines how a certain form will remain invari-ant.1 This rule reconstitutes the invariant of form in the new space ormedium. Elaborating the musical example, Wittgenstein writes:

A gramophone record, the musical idea, the written notes, and thesound-waves, all stand to one another in the same internal relation ofdepicting that holds between language and the world.

They are all constructed according to a common logical pattern.(Like the two youths in the fairy-tale, their two horses, and their lil-

ies. They are all in a certain sense one.) (4.014)

There is a general rule by means of which the musician can ob-tain the symphony from the score, and which makes it possible to de-rive the symphony from the groove on the gramophone record, and,using the first rule, to derive the score again. That is what constitutesthe inner similarity between these things which seem to be constructedin such entirely different ways. And that rule is the law of projectionwhich projects the symphony into the language of musical notation. Itis the rule for translating this language into the language of gramo-phone records. (4.0141)

What is retained in the translation is the internal relation of depicting,namely the form rather than some similarity of structure. Moreover,Wittgenstein speaks here of a common logical pattern (Bau), suggestingthat the commonality has to do with organization and requires no simi-larity at the level of the individual elements. The identity of pattern re-quired for depicting is the identity of depicting form.

Signs and Sense 65

1. This is reminiscent of the mathematical idea of embedding one space in another in order

to constitute a model. Indeed, Wittgenstein refers to his use of ‘Abbildung’ in that way: “I have

inherited this concept of a picture from two sides: first from a drawn picture (Bild), second

from the model (Bild) of a mathematician, which already is a general concept. For a mathemati-

cian talks of picturing in cases where a painter would no longer use this expression” (WVC,

p. 185).

Hence the projection determines how the form of a certain space willbe expressed in a completely new medium, with new signs or elementsof representation. Such a rule is not necessarily simple. Indeed, complexconstructions in one medium may be required to reflect what appearscompletely simple in another. But the apparent dissimilarity should notobscure that what is at stake in projection is the invariance of form, thecommon pattern required for depiction. The rule of projection revealshow the form of one space can be recovered in another space.

Projection is the term used for the relation of translation between twodifferent systems of signs, but also for the transition from the pictorialform to the space of signs. We apply the notion of projection to the rela-tion between the proposition and the propositional sign as follows: theprojection translates into the medium of signs the essence of depiction,the pictorial form. To find the rule of projection is to recover through thenew medium the form which is essential to depiction. For Wittgenstein,perspicuous expression is the recovery of the symbol, the way in whichsignification that depends on the form of depiction appears throughsigns. The symbol is an expression. It is the way in which form expressesitself in the medium of signs.

Having thus characterized the notion of projection, we can now at-tempt to interpret the difficult propositions concerning the relation ofexpression, projection, thought, proposition, and propositional sign:

We use the perceptible sign of a proposition (spoken or written, etc.)as a projection of a possible situation.

The method of projection is to think of the sense of the proposition.(3.11)2

I call the sign with which we express a thought a propositionalsign.—And a proposition is a propositional sign in its projective rela-tion to the world. (3.12)

A proposition includes all that the projection includes, but not whatis projected.

66 Signs of Sense

2. R. Rhees finds the translation of this proposition problematic: “In other words, the

method of projection is what we mean by ‘thinking’ or ‘understanding’ the sense of the proposi-

tion. (Messrs. Pears and McGuinness read it differently, as though the remark were to explain

the expression ‘method of projection’ here. I do not think that fits with what follows. And I

think ‘projection’ which is a logical operation, is written to explain ‘das Denken der Satz-

Sinnes’).” See Discussions of Wittgenstein, p. 39. My reading supports his claim.

Therefore, though what is projected is not itself included, its possi-bility is.

A proposition, therefore, does not actually contain its sense, butdoes contain the possibility of expressing it.

(‘The content of a proposition’ means the content of a propositionthat has sense.)

A proposition contains the form, but not the content, of its sense.(3.13)

The separation of the propositional sign from the proposition, as well astheir essential relatedness, can be expressed by associating the sense rep-resented with what is perceptible, as well as with taking a direction inspace (3.144).

Thought is the representation of a particular possibility in logicalspace. It takes a direction in that space. To become perceivable, such apossibility (a direction) must be projected upon a screen—the mediumof signs. The propositional sign is, as it were, the result of the projectionon that screen. Thus what was mere possibility becomes fact on thescreen. “A propositional sign is a fact” (3.14). The propositional signmakes sensible the activity of representing a possibility. It transformswhat is only a direction, a sense, into a sense perceivable by the senses.That fact, so perceived, is connected with the space of possibilities inwhich thinking operates. This space itself can be seen as projected ontothe medium of the linguistic sign. It is not perceivable, but is capable ofbeing shown through the network of signification in ways that will besubsequently elaborated.

The proposition is the space of possibilities surrounding the linguisticsign. Thus Wittgenstein says that the proposition is a propositional signin its projective relation to the world. But the proposition does not in-clude the projected sign, even though the latter belongs to it. The propo-sition is a background of possibility for that fact, which is the proposi-tional sign. A proposition includes the possibility of what is projected:“A proposition, therefore, does not actually contain its sense, but doescontain the possibility of expressing it” (3.13). Strictly speaking, asWittgenstein puts it, ‘the content of a proposition’ actually means ‘thecontent of a proposition that has sense’. The propositional sign deter-mining the sense constitutes the content, and it is not included in theproposition but belongs to it. “A proposition contains the form, but notthe content, of its sense” (3.13). This independence yet relatedness of

Signs and Sense 67

proposition and propositional sign makes it possible to say that thepropositional sign does not express completely the conditions of thesense that it presents, thus opening up the dimension of analysis.

I will further elaborate an understanding of the proposition in my ac-count of symbols, but at this stage I would like to focus on the proposi-tional sign. The propositional sign is not a list of signs but rather the factthat signs stand in relation to each other. “What constitutes a proposi-tional sign is that in it its elements (the words) stand in a determinate re-lation to one another. A propositional sign is a fact” (3.14). As we haveseen, for something to be a fact depends on the pre-existence of form.The proposition provides the background of form in which the proposi-tional sign can be seen to be a way of combining elements.

A proposition is not a blend of words.—(Just as a theme in music is nota blend of notes.)

A proposition is articulate. (3.141)

Such an articulation, the way in which we direct ourselves in a space ofform, is a sense. “Only facts can express a sense, a set of names cannot”(3.142). This last claim is, I take it, a direct attack on Frege’s conflationof propositional signs and names, and indeed Frege is mentioned in thenext proposition.

Although a propositional sign is a fact, this is obscured by the usualform of expression in writing or print.

For in a printed proposition, for example, no essential difference isapparent between a propositional sign and a word.

(That is what made it possible for Frege to call a proposition a com-posite name.) (3.143)

Wittgenstein gives a particularly vivid example to clarify the depen-dence of the propositional sign on a background of form:

The essence of a propositional sign is very clearly seen if we imagineone composed of spatial objects (such as tables, chairs, and books) in-stead of written signs.

Then the spatial arrangement of these things will express the senseof the proposition. (3.1431)

The spatial form is not an element of the scene but appears through thearrangement of the elements. Similarly, the propositional sign is an ar-

68 Signs of Sense

rangement, a fact dependent on the space of form opened by the propo-sition. In a propositional sign aRb, what represents the relation of a to bis not the fact that we have a sign for a, a sign for b, and a sign for the re-lation. This set of signs represents no sense; rather, what represents therelation of the elements is the fact that the linguistic sign ‘a’ stands in acertain relation to the sign ‘b’:

Instead of, ‘The complex sign “aRb” says that a stands to b in the rela-tion R’, we ought to put, ‘That “a” stands to “b” in a certain relationsays that aRb.’ (3.1432)

Similarly, we should not say that the sign “fa” says that a is f, but rather,that “a” stands to the right of “f” says that a is f.

Now, even as we consider such propositional signs as fa or aRb, whichdo not contain logical constants, we must keep in mind that what is atstake at the level of the propositional sign is the representation of facts.Thus the sign itself need not make manifest the form of the objects butonly the fact of their relation. This is indeed the basis of the capacity ofrepresenting any situation which we attribute to language. The facts thatare the propositional signs of our notation have the form of reality andthus can represent any logical structures, that is, structures of the logicalform. Wittgenstein says in his Notebooks:

It can be said that, while we are not certain of being able to turn all sit-uations into pictures on paper, still we are certain that we can portrayall logical properties of situations in a two-dimensional script.3

For such an account to work, the notation must allow us to distinguishin the propositional sign as many parts as there are in the fact. This is itsmathematical multiplicity. But this does not mean that the notation inany way reflects the form of the elements or objects. There is, once more,a sharp division between what is expressed by propositions—facts—andwhat can be named—objects.4

Signs and Sense 69

3. NB, p. 7.

4. For Frege sense was primarily the mode of presentation of a meaning. Sense was origi-

nally introduced for names. Every name had a sense. The sense provided, as it were, a descrip-

tion of what the thing is, it identified it in a certain way. Propositions, according to Frege, are to

be thought of as names themselves, since the logical functions are taken to be real functions. It

follows that the sense of a proposition is a derivative notion from the sense of a name. It is what

allows us to find the meaning of the proposition, namely, its truth value. Wittgenstein views

It is because a propositional sign is a fact that it can express a sense.But the reverse implication is that only facts can be expressed in propo-sitions. “Situations can be described but not given names. (Names arelike points; propositions like arrows—they have sense.)” (3.144).5 Thisraises the question of what it means to recognize form in language. It isin the dimension of the symbol that form will appear.

70 Signs of Sense

this as completely misguided. He insists on the distinction between signs that express a sense

and signs that name. Objects are named; this means that a sign is correlated with them. We do

not need to provide the sign with instructions that would help it find its meaning. The names

are representatives of objects. But it is only because this correlation exists that we can now pro-

duce sense. As Wittgenstein says later on: “The possibility of propositions is based on the prin-

ciple that objects have signs as their representatives” (4.0312). Thus the distinction between

sense and meaning is completely shifted in Wittgenstein’s account. This will have dramatic

consequences when we think of what it means to recover the object in language, through our

making of sense. The object must be shown, but such showing is to be kept distinct from the

idea of a mode of presentation as it is elaborated in Frege’s conception of sense, for what is

shown is not content.

5. This image of the arrow is indeed very suggestive if we think of it in the context of the ac-

count of picturing. Logical signs, one can say, mark the way in which we take elements in a

space of form. We should think of logical signs as directions for forming a content. But this

means precisely that a logical sign does not stand for an object, which should give us a further

indication of the meaning of Wittgenstein’s claim that logical constants are not representatives

of objects.

Signs of Sense The Symbolic Order

5

The Symbolic Order

The topic of symbolism constitutes one of the most complex issues inthe Tractatus. It is related to the nature of analysis, the nature of general-ity, the nature of formal concepts and of logical laws, as well as the dis-tinction between saying and showing. My own mode of exposition ofthis issue will attempt to show the connections between these appar-ently different sets of issues and will necessitate abandoning the attemptto follow Wittgenstein’s numbered propositions more or less in se-quence.

Wittgenstein’s account of signs and signification leads one to reflecton the distinction between the essential and the accidental in language.As he stresses, the accidental features of language derive from the waywe produce propositional signs:

A proposition possesses essential and accidental features.Accidental features are those that result from the particular way in

which the propositional sign is produced. Essential features are thosewithout which the proposition could not express its sense. (3.34)

It is therefore necessary to draw a distinction between the sign and its ar-bitrary features on the one hand, and a symbol, what is essential to theexpression of the sense of the proposition, on the other. An elaborationof the nature of the symbol cuts across the various contexts we have keptseparate: the proposition, the logical constants and quantification, aswell as names in relation to their meaning. Thus an investigation intothe nature of the propositional symbol will elucidate the general form ofthe proposition (what is common to all sign languages); an investigation

71

into the nature of the symbols of logic (the logical constants and thequantifiers) will yield a deeper understanding of the emptiness of logic;and an investigation into the signification of names will shed light onthe nature of analysis and the possibility of recognizing objects throughlanguage. I will at first ignore the differences between these contexts andconsider symbolism in general.

Wittgenstein initially introduces the distinction between the sign andthe symbol by considering the relation of the propositional sign to theproposition. These considerations are later extended to include parts ofthe proposition that are essential to expressing the sense. Hence the ac-count of the proposition takes precedence over the account of the com-ponents of the proposition. Wittgenstein indeed begins his discussion ofsymbols in general (of which the proposition is a special case) by statingthe above priority: “Only propositions have sense; only in the nexus of aproposition does a name have meaning” (3.3). The priority he gives tothe context of the proposition can be interpreted in different ways.1

In determining meaning we go beyond the way in which names arerepresentatives of objects. Representativeness, as I have elaborated it inthe account of picturing, involves an arbitrary correlation of name andobject. Wittgenstein’s concern is how to go beyond this arbitrariness inlanguage, how to discover what is essential to signification, or how toreveal through the use of signs in propositions the form that allowssignification. The form determines the symbol to which the sign be-longs. Saying that a name, viewed as a symbol, has a form does not meanthat the name itself is complex. The form is internal to the name. It

72 Signs of Sense

1. This proposition brings to mind Frege’s context principle: “Never to ask for the meaning

of a word in isolation, but only in the context of a proposition” (Foundations of Arithmetic,

p. x). It is important, however, to distinguish Wittgenstein’s understanding from Frege’s. For

Frege the context principle does not instruct us how to find the specific meaning of a sign but

rather directs us to its form or logical category. But determining the logical category of a sign

depends on grasping the kind of inferences that could be performed with propositions contain-

ing the sign. Thus the context principle refers not to a single proposition but to the network of

logical implications between different propositions. This is quite foreign to Wittgenstein’s pic-

ture, at least when it comes to specifying the mode of signification of the name of an object,

since form can be grasped in elementary propositions (that is, just as the form of objects ap-

pears in states of affairs), so the form of names will show up in the elementary proposition. The

elementary proposition is the expression whose constituents perspicuously contain their form

within themselves. Since elementary propositions do not stand in any inferential relations, the

context principle cannot have the same sense for Wittgenstein as it does for Frege.

makes the name what it is and is revealed through its appearance inpropositions. Wittgenstein writes:

I call any part of a proposition that characterizes its sense an expres-sion (or a symbol).

(A proposition is itself an expression.)Everything essential to their sense that propositions can have in

common with one another is an expression.An expression is the mark of a form and a content. (3.31)

As we consider the representation of facts, the construction of content,the names appear as mere representatives, as points or nodes of a struc-ture. To reveal the form of the object is to consider the name in the con-text of a proposition, and the proposition within a larger class of relatedpropositions. It is only thus that the name can be grasped as an expres-sion—something that is the mark of both a form and of a content. In or-der to bring out the formal properties of a sign, the symbol to which thesign belongs, we have to consider the common feature of the variouspropositional contexts of which it is a constituent, that is, to identify theinternal connection between various propositions that contain the ex-pression. I call this an internal or formal relation insofar as it determinesthe very identity of the expression in question:

An expression presupposes the forms of all the propositions inwhich it can occur. It is the common characteristic mark of a class ofpropositions. (3.311)

Wittgenstein’s use of the term ‘presuppose’ implies that one cannot char-acterize what a symbol is without having been given all the possible con-texts in which it could occur.

A crucial point here is the analogy between Wittgenstein’s elaborationof the notion of an expression and his understanding of objects throughtheir form.2 His insistence that an expression cannot be determinedapart from its possible combinations in propositions means that, in aspecific proposition, the expression contributes to a content only by vir-tue of having its form determined by a whole class of propositions. To

The Symbolic Order 73

2. Compare 2.025, “[Substance] is form and content,” and 3.31, “An expression is the mark

of a form and a content.” One can now understand better Wittgenstein’s parenthetical remark

in his account of objects: “(It is impossible for words to appear in two different roles: by them-

selves, and in propositions.).”

take a simple example: a given proposition expresses a specific sense,but it can do so only by its symbol’s being a symbol for propositions; thatis, being determined by a form that involves a whole space of possibili-ties out of which this particular sense is asserted. This is the logicalspace that comes with the propositional symbol.

A proposition can determine only one place in logical space: never-theless the whole of logical space must already be given by it. (3.42)

This suggests that understanding what a symbol or an expression is con-stitutes the first step in discovering how form appears in language, andin particular how the form of objects appears. Just as objects reveal theirform by exhibiting their possibilities of combination with other objects,so Wittgenstein suggests that in order to isolate an expression one has tosee the propositional contexts in which it could occur. Therefore it iscrucial to understand Wittgenstein’s idea of what precisely propositionscan have “in common.”

The form of a sign is shown by means of a whole class of proposi-tions—by giving a characterization that captures that whole class. Whatstands for that class is a variable whose range covers the kinds of propo-sitions in which that expression can occur meaningfully:

[An expression] is therefore presented by means of the general formof the propositions that it characterizes.

In fact, in this form the expression will be constant and everythingelse variable. (3.312)

Thus an expression is presented by means of a variable whose valuesare the propositions that contain the expression.

(In the limiting case the variable becomes a constant, the expressionbecomes a proposition.)

I call such a variable a ‘propositional variable.’ (3.313)

It is easy to misinterpret Wittgenstein’s picture by assimilating it to whatphilosophers such as Frege, Russell, or Carnap meant by logical form.For example, proposition 3.315 may tempt us to conclude that the pro-cedure for discovering logical form is akin to what we would call sche-matization:

If we turn a constituent of a proposition into a variable, there is aclass of propositions all of which are values of the resulting variable

74 Signs of Sense

proposition. In general, this class too will be dependent on the mean-ing that our arbitrary conventions have given to parts of the originalproposition. But if all the signs in it that have arbitrarily determinedmeanings are turned into variables, we shall still get a class of thatkind. This one, however, is not dependent on any convention, butsolely on the nature of the proposition. It corresponds to a logicalform—a logical prototype [protopicture, Urbild].3 (3.315)

However, imposing the idea of schematization on Wittgenstein’s accountof the symbol seems to me misleading on several counts: schematizationprovides us with a certain structure, but such a structure is not a form; aspace of possibilities is different from a specific mode of combination,even generalized; a fully generalized proposition is not a form but a de-terminate statement about the world.4 The form reveals the combina-torial possibilities of an expression. To take a simple example: in order tocharacterize the form of a propositional symbol p, we must characterizeall the propositions in which it can occur—thus, p, pvq, p.q, qvp, and soon. This class of propositions cannot be viewed as having a commonstructure. The variable that determines such a class is something thatWittgenstein will elaborate in terms of a procedure of construction (see5.2552). Hence his notion of logical form as the presentation of thekinds of contexts in which an expression can sensically appear is verydifferent from that of Frege or Russell. For logical form is most clearlypresented by a class of propositions containing very different kinds ofstructures.

It is also tempting to impose on Wittgenstein’s account of the symbolthe idea of an uninterpreted syntactical system for which we need toprovide meanings; to make a contrast between syntax and semantics.5

Indeed, the procedure that Wittgenstein describes might seem to do

The Symbolic Order 75

3. The translation of Urbild as ‘prototype’ obscures the connection between Bild and Urbild,

and hence the relation between the account of the variable and quantification, and the account

of picturing. See below, p. 86.

4. Wittgenstein makes clear in 5.526–5.5261 that the generalized proposition is as con-

tentful as any other proposition: “We can describe the world completely by means of fully gen-

eralized propositions . . . A fully generalized proposition, like every other proposition, is com-

posite.”

5. This contrast would then force on us the assumption of a metaphysical subject, which

would be responsible for providing meaning to the empty formalism.

away with all the components of meaning, leaving only the syntacticalpossibilities of the signs. For instance, he writes: “In logical syntax themeaning of a sign should never play a role. It must be possible to estab-lish logical syntax without mentioning the meaning of a sign: only thedescription of expressions may be presupposed” (3.33).6 But I read thisto mean precisely that everything that contributes to signification mustbe grasped through the interrelation of propositions, by means of theclass that determines the expression. In other words, there is no need fora further step in which meaning is specified, that is, there is no need tointerpret a formal syntax. Wittgenstein equates the symbol with the wayin which the sign signifies or has meaning. Once a symbol has been de-termined, the issue of providing a meaning has also been solved.7

Let us now return to proposition 3.315 and ask once more about thearbitrariness of meaning that Wittgenstein wants to get away from. Thisarbitrariness can be thought of in terms of the notion of representative-ness, which I elaborated in the account of picturing. The correlation thatis formed between a sign and the world in naming things is indeed arbi-trary. This connection does not show what precisely allows the sign tosignify, that is, the identity of form that enables depicting. In order tobring out that level of form, we must get away from the arbitrariness ofthe relation of representativeness and ask about the combinatorial prop-erties of the sign. This does not mean moving from the world to a merely

76 Signs of Sense

6. There are also good textual grounds on which to refrain from imposing on the text the

contrast between syntax and semantics, as it is usually understood. For instance, Wittgenstein

writes: “In order to recognize a symbol by its sign we must observe how it is used with a sense”

(3.326). “A sign does not determine a logical form unless it is taken together with its logico-

syntactical employment” (3.327); “If a sign is useless, it is meaningless. That is the point of

Occam’s maxim. (If everything behaves as if a sign had meaning, then it does have a meaning.)”

(3.328).

7. This claim should be qualified, for the relation of representativeness has to be deter-

mined, but this relation is a condition of the very formation of the symbol. Indeed, the prob-

lems of meaninglessness do not derive from the properties of the symbol but from the lack of

this initial relation: “Frege says that any legitimately constructed proposition must have a

sense. And I say that any possible proposition is legitimately constructed, and, if it has no

sense, that can only be because we have failed to give a meaning to some of its constituents.

(Even if we think that we have done so.) Thus the reason why ‘Socrates is identical’ says noth-

ing is that we have not given any adjectival meaning to the word ‘identical’. For when it appears

as a sign for identity, it symbolizes in an entirely different way—the signifying relation is a dif-

ferent one—therefore the symbols also are entirely different in the two cases: the two symbols

have only the sign in common, and that is an accident” (5.4733).

formal symbolic system, for the form of depiction is identical in the pic-ture and in the world. Thus by doing away with the arbitrariness ofmeaning we can now perceive the fundamental identity between lan-guage and reality. Logical syntax, as Wittgenstein understands it, doesnot merely deal with schemata of signs; it rather shows the way in whichthe sign signifies.

As with 3.315, a misreading of 3.316–3.317 may suggest that Wittgen-stein elaborates an arbitrary or conventional syntax which gives us thepower to stipulate what the sign signifies:

What values a propositional variable may take is something that isstipulated.

The stipulation of values is the variable. (3.316)

To stipulate values for a propositional variable is to give the proposi-tion whose common characteristic the variable is.

The stipulation is a description of those propositions.The stipulation will therefore be concerned only with symbols, not

with their meaning.And the only thing essential to the stipulation is that it is merely a de-

scription of symbols and states nothing about what is signified.How the description of the proposition is produced is not essential.

(3.317)

The form of a symbol is brought out by the inner relation of a wholeclass of propositions. Wittgenstein insists that the characterization ofthe variable is produced through a description of that class of proposi-tions. This does not mean that the class over which the variable ranges issomehow arbitrarily stipulated. The stipulation makes the variable intoa representative of that class, which itself is nonarbitrary: “What the val-ues of the variable are is something that is stipulated. The stipulation is adescription of the propositions that have the variable as their represen-tative” (5.501). Here the translation by Pears and McGuinness of theterm Festsetzung as “stipulation,” which suggests a certain arbitrariness,might be the source of the misunderstanding. Ogden uses “determina-tion,” which correctly expresses the notion of characterizing the rangeof the variable as something that corresponds to a given, nonarbitraryclass. Indeed, that class is the result of doing away with the arbitrary ele-ments.

I wish to stress the point that Wittgenstein characterizes our grasp of

The Symbolic Order 77

the symbol as something achieved by paying attention to expressionsand not by any direct reference to meaning. Indeed, there is no suchthing as direct access to meanings. We arrive at meaning by consideringthe combinatorial possibilities of expressions, by bringing out the symbolor the form. Hence his claim: “Only propositions have sense; only in thenexus of a proposition does a name have meaning” (3.3). The symbolshould not be reified and equated with a separable sign in the notation.A symbol is only brought out by the interconnection of propositions. Asa mark of form, it is the internal relation between such propositions. Wecan use a variable to range over all such propositions and thus give asign of the notation that will stand for the symbol, but this does notmean that the symbol has been turned into something wholly separableand self-standing. This may be why the symbol is not perceivable as thesign is: not because the symbol is somehow hidden beneath the surfaceof language or belongs to an inner mental realm, but rather because itdoes not belong to the factual. It is shown through the internal relationsof propositions and this showing of form is not a perceiving.

This point can be elucidated by considering a further complication inWittgenstein’s account of the symbol. We tend to draw the distinctionbetween the accidental and the essential in language in terms of the arbi-trariness of the sign, but Wittgenstein speaks of arbitrariness at the sym-bolic level as well. If a symbol is what is essential to the expression ofsense, then in a particular notation that contribution can be expressed indifferent ways, with different symbolic constructions:

A proposition possesses essential and accidental features.Accidental features are those that result from the particular way in

which the propositional sign is produced. Essential features are thosewithout which the proposition could not express its sense. (3.34)

So what is essential in a proposition is what all propositions that canexpress the same sense have in common.

And similarly, in general, what is essential in a symbol is what allsymbols that can serve the same purpose have in common. (3.341)

What signifies in a symbol is what is common to all the symbols thatthe rules of logical syntax allow us to substitute for it. (3.344)

Even our symbols are the result of a certain arbitrariness in our choice ofmeans of representation. Take the example of negation: before reading

78 Signs of Sense

Wittgenstein’s account we might have been tempted to say that “�” ex-presses the symbol of negation; we grasp the symbol when we see thatwe can negate the proposition “p” by placing a “�” in front of it. ButWittgenstein shows us that we have not grasped a form in that way. Theessence of the symbol for which “�p” stands can be grasped only byconsidering what is common to the following signs of the notation ex-pressing the negation of p: “�p”, “���p”, “�����p”, “�p.�p,”“�pv�p,” and so on. The symbol is what is common to all those modesof representing negation. It is a rule that characterizes the constructionof all the signs that could negate “p”:

But in ‘�p’ it is not ‘�’ that negates; it is rather what is common to allsigns of this notation that negate p.

That is to say the common rule that governs the construction of‘�p’, ‘���p’, ‘�pv�p’, ‘�p.�p’, etc. etc. (ad inf.) And this commonfactor mirrors negation. (5.512)

This shows that grasping the symbol that “�p” stands for involvesgrasping the whole of the logical space of “p.” In order to know the sym-bol of negation, I must know that “�p” and “���p” signify the samething. Moreover I must know that “�p” and “�p.�p” signify the samething. Thus when I know the essence of the symbol, I know variousthings which we would normally say follow from �p (or are logicallyequivalent with it).

Wittgenstein makes a similar point concerning conjunction and dis-junction:

We might say that what is common to all symbols that affirm both pand q is the proposition ‘p.q’; and that what is common to all symbolsthat affirm either p or q is the propositions ‘pvq’. (5.513)

These last examples show very clearly that determining the symbol doesnot merely give the syntactically possible combinations of signs butwhat we would call logical relations of content. To elaborate the symbolmeans to bring out the internal properties that determine what an ex-pression is. We should expect then a close connection between such anaccount and Wittgenstein’s elaboration of how internal relations andproperties appear in language, his account of formal concepts, which be-gins in 4.122 with an apparent reversion to a discussion of ontology:

The Symbolic Order 79

In a certain sense we can talk about formal properties of objects andstates of affairs, or in the case of facts, about structural properties: andin the same sense about formal relations and structural relations.

In contrast to the straightforward ontological tone of the opening of thebook, however, Wittgenstein here elaborates the question of how we cantalk about those very ontological notions, that is, how they appear inlanguage.

As we recall, the important point concerning these internal prop-erties, which was already adumbrated in the opening of the book, isthat propositions cannot say that things have these properties, which iswhy we can talk about those properties only in a certain sense.

We cannot attribute those properties to anything; there can be nopropositions that describe such attributions. Nor can there be proposi-tions distinguishing one property from another by means of a character-istic mark:

It would be just as nonsensical to assert that a proposition had a for-mal property as to deny it. (4.124)

It is impossible to distinguish forms from one another by saying thatone has this property and another that property: for this presupposesthat it makes sense to ascribe either property to either form. (4.1241)

Wittgenstein calls concepts purporting to signify such internal proper-ties ‘formal concepts’ and distinguishes them from concepts proper. Theessence of Wittgenstein’s account of the symbol is that we are given thepossibilities of combination, the combinatorial space, when we are giventhe symbol. This applies to the proposition as a whole as well as to thevarious component parts. Wittgenstein warns against the confusion thatmay result from thinking that the possibilities of combination that areinternal to the symbol are something that we add to it—that stand in anexternal relation to the symbol rather than in an internal one. The resultof such a confusion, the treatment of a formal concept as a real property,is the generation of nonsensical propositions purporting to use that con-cept:

So one cannot say, for example, ‘There are objects’, as one might say,‘There are books’. And it is just as impossible to say, ‘There are 100 ob-jects’, or, ‘There are ℵo objects.’

And it is nonsensical to speak of the total number of objects.

80 Signs of Sense

The same applies to the words ‘complex’, ‘fact’, ‘function’, ‘number’,etc. (4.1272)

The various signs such as ‘object’, fact’, ‘complex’ are used in philoso-phers’ propositions as real concepts (indeed Wittgenstein himself usesall those concepts in the opening of the Tractatus). But he insists that atthe symbolic level there are no component terms that such signs belongto—no things that they signify.

How do we use language to talk about such formal properties? We cando it insofar as we can bring out how in language the internal relationsbetween propositions show those formal and structural properties:

The existence of an internal property of a possible situation is notexpressed by means of a proposition: rather, it expresses itself in theproposition representing the situation, by means of an internal prop-erty of that proposition. (4.124)

The existence of an internal relation between possible situations ex-presses itself in language by means of an internal relation between thepropositions representing them. (4.125)

The formal concept is, properly speaking, the mark of an internal rela-tion between propositions belonging to the same space. It is thus repre-sented in language by means of a whole class of interrelated proposi-tions. Some such classes can be arranged in what Wittgenstein calls aformal series. The ordering reveals the form common to the proposi-tions in that class. Wittgenstein gives the example of the successor in4.1273:

If we want to express the conceptual notation the general proposi-tion ‘b is the successor of a’, then we require an expression for the gen-eral term of the series of forms

aRb,(∃x)aRx.xRb,(∃x,y)aRx.xRy.yRb.

Hence what the propositions of a formal series have in common is notone of their component parts but what Wittgenstein calls a feature of thesymbols:

So the sign for the characteristic mark of a formal concept is a dis-tinctive feature of all symbols whose meanings fall under the concept.(4.126)

The Symbolic Order 81

Such a feature is brought out by means of the use of a propositional vari-able whose values belong to the class of propositions that have that fea-ture in common.8

Just as we considered what happens to formal concepts when they areused as though they were real concepts, so we can consider ways inwhich structural properties are treated as though they were real ones.Structural properties have to do with the logical connections betweenpropositions. Thus to treat structural properties as real properties resultsin what we would call logical propositions (tautologies and contradic-tions).

That a certain proposition follows from another or contradicts it is nota fact about such propositions but an internal relation between them.For instance, it is part of the symbol p.q that p follows from it; or to re-turn to an example we have considered before, an essential feature of thesymbol �p is that propositions such as ���p follow from it. As Witt-genstein puts it: “One could say that negation must be related to the log-ical place determined by the negated proposition.” That �p contradictsp is not external to the nature of p. To think of logical laws as contentfulpropositions would purport to turn that internal relation into a statablefact and would reveal a fundamental misunderstanding as to how formalrelations are shown:

The fact that the propositions of logic are tautologies shows the for-mal—logical—properties of language and the world.

The fact that a tautology is yielded by this particular way of connect-ing its constituents characterizes the logic of its constituents.

If propositions are to yield a tautology when they are connected ina certain way, they must have certain structural properties. So theiryielding a tautology when combined in this way shows that they pos-sess these structural properties. (6.12)

82 Signs of Sense

8. It is no coincidence that Wittgenstein develops his understanding of the variable in both

the account of symbolism and that of formal concepts. In the account of symbolism the vari-

able is necessary to express the whole combinatorial space that belongs to the symbol, which is

precisely the reason why it can be seen as the proper representation of what Wittgenstein calls a

formal concept: “Every variable is the sign for a formal concept” (4.1271). It would seem that

not every variable or formal concept can be represented by means of a formal series. Indeed, in

5.501 Wittgenstein characterizes three ways of fixing a variable by describing the propositions

it stands for, the last of which is the giving of a formal series. (I thank Michael Knemer for very

helpful criticisms and comments regarding earlier attempts to interpret Wittgenstein’s idea of a

formal concept and of generality.)

Wittgenstein’s treatment of logical laws stands in important contrast tohis treatment of formal concepts, which relates to the distinction hedraws between the senseless and the nonsensical. Wittgenstein speaks oftautologies and contradictions as being senseless. They are valid combi-nations of signs that do not represent anything or that produce no sense.In opposition to them, the attempt to state the internal properties of anobject is an attempt to turn internal relations into purported facts. It is,in that way, strictly speaking nonsensical. Unlike tautologies and contra-dictions, which will still appear in a perspicuous notation, such pur-ported statements concerning internal properties will disappear. Thisof course does not mean that internal relations cannot be shown in aproper notation.9

This insight into the symbolic order underlies much of Wittgenstein’scriticism of various positions concerning the nature and possibilities oflogic. It not only serves to show the emptiness of logical laws, but alsoconstitutes the basis of his argument against the logicist reduction ofarithmetic to logic. Wittgenstein’s account of the successor as a formalconcept undermines the notion that lies at the very heart of such a re-duction:

If we want to express in conceptual notation the general proposi-tion, ‘b is a successor of a’, then we require an expression for the gen-eral term of the series of forms

aRb,(∃x):aRx.xRb,(∃x,y):aRx.xRy.yRb,. . . .In order to express the general term of a series of forms, we must use

a variable, because the concept ‘term of that series of forms’ is a formalconcept. (This is what Frege and Russell overlooked: consequently theway in which they want to express general propositions like the oneabove is incorrect; it contains a vicious circle.) (4.1273)

A correct understanding of symbolism also shows the problematic na-ture of Russell’s theory of types. Wittgenstein’s account of the symboldemonstrates that a function must contain within itself a characteriza-

The Symbolic Order 83

9. One could also say that a structural property is shown by tautologies and contradictions,

whereas a formal property can only be shown by a class of propositions that share that internal

property.

tion of its argument. For it to be a symbol at all, it must be definedthrough the range of arguments it can take. Thus it makes no sense tothink that, after determining a symbol, there remains a further task ofdeciding which arguments it is allowed and which it is not allowed totake:

No proposition can make a statement about itself, because a propo-sitional sign cannot be contained in itself (that is the whole of the ‘the-ory of types’). (3.332)

The reason why a function cannot be its own argument is that thesign for a function already contains the prototype of its argument, andit cannot contain itself. For let us suppose that the function F(fx) couldbe its own argument: in that case there would be a proposition‘F(F(fx)),’ in which the outer function F and the inner function F musthave different meanings, since the inner one has the form �(fx) and theouter has the form �(�(fx). Only the letter ‘F’ is common to the twofunctions, but the letter in itself signifies nothing . . . (3.333)

This argument emphasizes the point that a symbol is defined through itspossibilities of combination. Wittgenstein does not need to introduce aspecial rule for distinguishing the inner and the outer Fs. It is part ofwhat they are: they are defined in part by the kind of arguments theytake. One could say that the syntax takes care of itself, for it is a logicalimpossibility to construct an expression F(F(fx)) where the two Fs arethe same symbol. We can of course have such a string of signs, but thisidentity of sign says nothing about the symbol.10 We must never confusethe level of signs and the level of symbols. It makes sense to speak of aconfusion at the level of signs, but there is no such thing as a mistake inthe order of the symbol. There can therefore be no rules for the propercombination of symbols, for symbols are internally related to possibili-ties of combination.

Finally, let us consider the consequences of this account of the symbolfor the nature of logical constants, starting with an elaboration of Witt-genstein’s insight concerning the theory of types. If he were to take logi-

84 Signs of Sense

10. The argument Wittgenstein deploys against Russell’s theory of types could also be used

against Frege’s elaboration of the distinction between concept and object. In particular, what is

problematic is Frege’s identification of the complete proposition with an object, that is, a truth

value, which precisely allows a construction such as F(F(fx)) where the first application of F to

some object produces once more the type of argument that F itself could take.

cal constants to be real functions (as Frege did), he would be committedby the logic of his argument to say that in ��p negation cannot be thesame function in both occurrences. Wittgenstein sees that argument aspointing to the difference between logical constants and real functions.The fact that logical symbols such as negation can be iterated shows thatlogical constants are not real functions but what he calls operations.

(Operations and functions must not be confused with each other.)(5.25)

A function cannot be its own argument, whereas an operation cantake one of its own results as its base. (5.251)

Drawing this distinction between function and operation is tantamountto expressing the peculiar status of logical constants. It means that suchconstants are not ultimate constituents of the content:

The occurrence of an operation does not characterize the sense of aproposition.

Indeed no statement is made by an operation, but only by its result,and this depends on the bases of the operation. (5.25)

Truth-functions are not material functions.For example, an affirmation can be produced by double negation: in

such a case does it follow that in some sense negation is contained inaffirmation? Does ‘��p’ negate �p, or does it affirm p—or both?

The proposition ‘��p’ is not about negation, as if negation were anobject: on the other hand, the possibility of negation is already writteninto affirmation.

And if there were an object called ‘�’, it would follow that ‘��p’said something different from what ‘p’ said, just because the one propo-sition would then be about � and the other would not. (5.44)

The analogy between form and a space might help us understand thisdistinction. If we think of form as a space, then what is essential in a spe-cific proposition is revealed through its connection with every otherpossible structure in that space. That is, a certain possibility of move-ment or transition within that space from one structure to another iscrucial. This means that all these structures must share a procedure fortransition from one to the other: this is the operation which can take usfrom one structure to another.

The Symbolic Order 85

The structures of propositions stand in internal relations to one an-other. (5.2)

In order to give prominence to these internal relations we can adoptthe following mode of expression: we can represent a proposition asthe result of an operation that produces it out of other propositions(which are the bases of the operation). (5.21)

An operation is the expression of a relation between the structures ofits result and of its bases. (5.22)

The operation is what has to be done to the one proposition in orderto make the other out of it. (5.23)

And that will, of course, depend on their formal properties, on theinternal similarity of their forms. (5.231)

Insofar as form is constituted through the internal relations of proposi-tions, we can speak of cases in which that internal relation is shown bymeans of an operation that takes one proposition as a basis and anotherof that class as its result. The concept of the operation is then intimatelyconnected to the notion of a formal concept:

We can determine the general term of a series of forms by giving itsfirst term and the general form of the operation that produces the nextterm out of the proposition that precedes it. (4.1273)

It is crucial to realize that the occurrence of an operation has no corre-late at the level of meaning. The operation is not part of what we speakabout in the proposition, but is operative in making the transition in aspace of internal relations. In itself the occurrence of an operation meansnothing, for it can vanish. Sometimes a repeated application can cancelprevious applications of the operation; this, for instance, is what hap-pens in the case of the equivalence of ‘p’ and ‘��p’. The fact that the op-eration can be canceled shows most clearly that it is not a componentexpression of the sense. Insofar as these operations do not in themselvestransform the space of signification, they can be repeated or applied re-peatedly.

At this point we are finally in a position to fill in a lacuna in my previ-ous account of logical constants, concerning Wittgenstein’s understand-ing of the quantifier. What I emphasized in Wittgenstein’s conception ofa picture is the pre-existence of a background of form which conditions

86 Signs of Sense

the possibility of structures. Classes of structures will bring out featuresof that background. Related to every picture, we can conceive of proto-pictures which make no determinate statement but show features of thebackground of form. Such protopictures can be presented by means ofclasses of propositions related by an internal relation.

Wittgenstein’s account of the quantifiers appeals to such proto-pictures:

I dissociate the concept all from truth-functions.Frege and Russell introduced generality in association with logical

product or logical sum. This makes it difficult to understand the prop-ositions ‘(∃x).fx’ and ‘(x)fx’, in which both ideas are embedded. (5.521)

What is peculiar to the generality sign is first, that it indicates a logi-cal prototype [protopicture], and secondly, that it gives prominence toconstants. (5.522)

The generality-sign occurs as an argument. (5.523)

The generality sign indicates the presence of a logical protopicture, thatis, a class of structures that are related by an internal relation. Indeed,the variable which is involved in the generality sign is always the markof a formal concept. That formal concept is precisely a protopicture, thatis, a formal feature shared by a class of propositions. These structuresare, first of all, constructed by means of the scaffolding provided by logi-cal constants. In that sense we can say that the generality sign givesprominence to constants. The generality sign is an argument in the sensethat it “completes” the indeterminacy of the protopicture so as to form adefinite sense. It allows a statement concerning the structures that pres-ent the formal concept. This makes it clear that the quantifier, while notan operation on pictures, can be seen as an operation on protopicturesthat produces a determinate sense.

The Symbolic Order 87

Signs of Sense The Grammar of Analysis

6

The Grammar of Analysis

While we have gained some insight into the nature of logical signs andthe existence of formal and structural relations, we still need to deter-mine the symbolic properties of names, that is, how to analyze languageinto elementary propositions. Wittgenstein’s account of symbolism en-ables us to address the question of analysis.

Indeed, Wittgenstein gives an initial statement of the relation of sym-bolism to the question of analysis immediately after he introduces thenotion of the symbol:

A sign is what can be perceived of a symbol. (3.32)

So one and the same sign (written or spoken, etc.) can be commonto two different symbols—in which case they will signify in differentways. (3.321)

Our use of the same sign to signify two different objects can neverindicate a common characteristic of the two, if we use it with two dif-ferent modes of signification. For the sign, of course, is arbitrary. So wecould choose two different signs instead, and then what would be leftin common on the signifying side? (3.322)

Wittgenstein gives several examples of this phenomenon: the use of thesign “is” to signify both the copula and identity, or the proposition“Green is green,” where the first word is the proper name of a personand the last an adjective. Such examples are well known, yet their sig-nificance remains to be interpreted. They might give the impression thateverything about everyday language is problematic and confusing. In-

88

deed, when Wittgenstein addresses the issue of specifying the correctlogical perspective, or sign-language (as in the present context), ordi-nary language appears deficient:

In everyday language it very frequently happens that the same wordhas different modes of signification—and so belongs to different sym-bols—or that two words that have different modes of signification areemployed in propositions in what is superficially the same way. (3.323)

In this way the most fundamental confusions are easily produced(the whole of philosophy is full of them). (3.324)

In order to avoid such errors we must make use of a sign-languagethat excludes them by not using the same sign for different symbolsand by not using in a superficially similar way signs that have differentmodes of signification: that is to say, a sign-language that is governedby logical grammar—by logical syntax. (3.325)

Such statements, read in isolation, might suggest that Wittgenstein is in-volved in the same project as Frege and Russell after all—that of replac-ing ordinary language with a logically perfect one. For Wittgenstein,however, the problematic nature of everyday language pertains to thelevel of signs and not to that of symbols. This is a crucial point, since itdirects analysis to make perspicuous the form of that very sense whichwe make in ordinary language, rather than to replace ordinary languagewith an ideal or perfect language.1 Wittgenstein is concerned with re-placing signs rather than with constructing a symbolism. He does not

The Grammar of Analysis 89

1. Frege’s conceptual notation is primarily concerned with the language of science. In his

view ordinary language has an extremely problematic status: “If it is one of the tasks of philoso-

phy to break the domination of the word over the human spirit by laying the misconceptions

that through the use of language often almost unavoidably arise concerning the relation be-

tween concepts and by freeing thought from that with which only the means of expression of

ordinary language, constituted as they are, saddle it, then my ideography, further developed for

these purposes, can become a useful tool for the philosopher.” (In J. van Heijenoort, Frege and

Gödel, p. 7.) In Frege’s view a conceptual notation is necessary for a stable scientific enterprise.

Science would be threatened with innumerable confusions unless a precise syntax for its lan-

guage were laid down once and for all. Everyday language is full of symbolical confusions.

Frege sometimes expresses himself in such a way as to imply that language requires our help to

function properly. One might say that the whole project of the Foundations of Arithmetic is mo-

tivated by the possibility of mathematical catastrophe. It is this idea of a conceptual notation

and its attendant idea of logic as the standard and foundation of meaningfulness that Witt-

genstein attacks.

assume that ordinary language has no clear symbolic structure, butaims precisely at making the symbolic form of ordinary language per-spicuous.

There are no logical problems in ordinary language; there are onlyproblems arising from the ambiguity of signs, not from the signs’ modesof signification. In every case that a sign stands for two different modesof signification, thus for two different meanings, the symbolic form cor-responding to each can be revealed if we consider the sign together withits use. It would be possible then to dispel the ambiguity of the sign,which might in certain cases ease our recognition, but we have notthereby corrected anything concerning the logic of that sign.

The very concept of logic implies that it takes care of itself. Thismeans that in a certain sense there cannot be a mistake at the level ofsymbols. Misinterpretations are caused by our use of similar signs fordifferent symbols. Mistakes that are related to how we use the signs (forinstance missing an inference) certainly exist, but these cannot be illogi-cal symbolic formation. The very concept of a malfunctioning symbol isproblematic, since it involves a grammatical confusion concerning thenature of logic: it makes us responsible for the working of logic in lan-guage. Whereas a mistaken theory of physics would still be a theory ofphysics, a mistaken logical theory is simply inconceivable. But this justmeans that logic is not a theoretical domain. The notion that we need tohelp language out, logically speaking—that without our logical correc-tions and intervention language would be threatened by illogical con-structs—is fundamentally erroneous. Wittgenstein points out that sucha conception of philosophical work is incoherent.

Logic must look after itself.If a sign is possible, then it is also capable of signifying. Whatever is

possible in logic is also permitted . . .In a certain sense, we cannot make mistakes in logic. (5.473)

It is not a question of the possibility of logical trouble in language butmerely an issue of our failure to make an arbitrary determination of thesigns we use, that is, of the relation of representativeness. It has nothingto do with the functioning of language in itself.2

90 Signs of Sense

2. Cora Diamond makes these points forcefully in considering Wittgenstein’s view of non-

sense. I have taken a somewhat different path, thinking of the very concept of logical work, to

arrive at the same place. See her “On What Nonsense Might Be,” “Frege and Nonsense,” and

“Throwing Away the Ladder” in C. Diamond, The Realistic Spirit.

Hence there seems to be a certain duality in Wittgenstein’s attitude toeveryday language. While he recognizes ambiguities at the level of signs,his concept of symbolism shows ordinary language to be in perfect logi-cal order. This point can be elucidated by considering more broadly hisview of the task of the Tractatus and of the possibilities of work in logicand philosophy. Wittgenstein makes three fundamental statements con-cerning his insight, method, and aim, which at first sight seem to be un-related:

The possibility of propositions is based on the principle that objectshave signs as their representatives.

My fundamental idea is that ‘logical constants’ are not representa-tives; that there can be no representatives of the logic of facts. (4.0312)

Our fundamental principle is that whenever a question can be de-cided by logic at all it must be possible to decide it without more ado.

(And if we get into a position where we have to look at the world foran answer to such a problem, that shows that we are on a completelywrong track.) (5.551)

In fact, all the proposition of our everyday language just as theystand, are in perfect logical order.—That utterly simple thing, whichwe have to formulate here, is not a likeness of the truth, but the truthitself in its entirety.

(Our problems are not abstract, but the most concrete that thereare.) (5.5563)

Thinking about these three statements together provides an insight thatcould guide our reading of the Tractatus as a whole.

In the first statement Wittgenstein speaks of a fundamental idea orthought (Grundgedanke); in the second, of a fundamental principle; andin the third, of the utterly simple truth in its entirety. The fundamentalidea or thought, whose consequences one has to elaborate, is the start-ing point of our inquiry. The simple truth is, as it were, the endpoint ofsuch an enterprise of thinking, something that we come to recognizeby following the path of thinking. It is what needs expressing and forwhose sake we have to develop the fundamental idea. The fundamentalprinciple allows us to advance along that path and keeps us on track.The fundamental idea determines the principle of inquiry, the method ofadvance toward showing the truth in its entirety. The simple truth is nota new thought or a complicated idea, but an acknowledgment or recog-nition that, contrary to what seems to be the case, ordinary language is

The Grammar of Analysis 91

in fact perfectly in order as it is. This recognition seems to imply someas yet undetermined concreteness and urgency. It opens an ethical di-mension or opens us to the ethical. It reveals that the problems of theTractatus are not abstract but rather the most concrete that there are. Inorder to reach the opening of such a dimension, it is first necessary toapproach this simple truth of the Tractatus in the right way, by linking itto the other fundamental propositions.

My earlier discussion of picturing and of symbolism addressed someaspects of the claim that logical constants are not representatives of ob-jects. I now want to elaborate this insight from a different angle. Witt-genstein’s “fundamental idea” is based on the duality of signs that standfor objects and logical constants that are not representatives; on the no-tion that there can be no representatives of the logic of facts. We nowperceive that this separation of domains derives from Wittgenstein’s un-derstanding of the ontological status of the logical constants. Thus if wehave signs that are representatives of objects, the question is how theform of these objects is manifested in language. Wittgenstein argues thatwhile the logical signs help reveal this form, they themselves are not rep-resentatives of anything in the world. According to his notion of thelogic of portrayal, and of portrayal by means of logic, no element of thelogical system of representation stands for anything in the world. Thismight sound odd, for we are used to thinking that the possibility of rep-resenting the world is based precisely on some such correspondence.Wittgenstein has already attempted to lead us away from that concept ofrepresentation in his account of symbols, where he stated that to expressthe form (which is the symbol) required bringing out a whole networkof internally related propositions. Similarly, he writes in the Notebooks:

We should then work with signs that do not stand for anything butmerely help to express by means of their logical properties.3

But how is the world expressed by means of logic, without logic’s beingpart of the world? Wittgenstein often refers to this mode of expression asmirroring.

How can logic—all-embracing logic, which mirrors the world—usesuch peculiar crotchets and contrivances? Only because they are all

92 Signs of Sense

3. NB, p. 10.

connected with one another in an infinitely fine network, the greatmirror. (5.511).4

Mirroring is intimately related to the nature of showing:

Propositions cannot represent logical form: it is mirrored in them.What finds its reflection in language, language cannot represent.What expresses itself in language we cannot express by means of lan-

guage.Propositions show the logical form of reality.They display it. (4.121)

The notion of mirroring emphasizes that form is expressed by a reflect-ing surface. This means that we do not immediately express the worldby means of the signs we choose, but that our linguistic activity resultsin that infinitely fine network of interrelated signs, of surfaces, in whichthe world is reflected. We have seen how this idea is developed in Witt-genstein’s account of symbolism, where the symbol is related to the rec-ognition of a class of internally related propositions which express itsform. The notion of mirroring further suggests that we need not gobeneath the surface of language to recognize objects. Objects appearthrough the recognition of internal relations in the network formed byour use of language. They are not mysterious hidden entities, but whollyin view.

There is thus a clear division between the means of logical representa-tion on the one hand, and what shows itself through our constructions,what there is in the world, on the other. Indeed, it is possible to perfectlyexpress or show things, in their essence, without there being any corre-spondence between an element in the proposition and the internal prop-erties of the thing. This means, then, that Wittgenstein’s concept of anadequate notation is a notation that will allow constructions through

The Grammar of Analysis 93

4. It is interesting that the locution ‘mirror of the world’ occurs in Schopenhauer, and,

given Wittgenstein’s acquaintance with his work, it might very well be related to his thought on

the matter. Schopenhauer speaks of ideas rather than representations as being mirrors of the

world: “Man . . . is the most complete phenomenon of the will, and, as was shown in the second

book, in order to exist, this phenomenon had to be illuminated by so high a degree of knowl-

edge that even a perfectly adequate repetition of the inner nature of the world under the form of

representation became possible in it. This is the apprehension of the Ideas, the pure mirror of

the world.” See The World as Will and Representation, vol. 1, pp. 287–288. We can schematically

suggest a parallel between the Wittgensteinian ‘thing’ and the Schopenhauerian ‘idea,’ which is

the expression of the will in experience.

which the forms of objects will show. It does not mean in any way thatthe form of the signs will be the form of the objects.

We can now attempt to see how this fundamental idea—that logicalconstants and signs that stand for objects constitute two separate do-mains—is expressed in the fundamental principle of inquiry. The latterseems to demand that the logical be separated from the empirical, a sep-aration that is commonplace in philosophy. What then is the radical in-novation in Wittgenstein’s view of the matter?

First, consider the odd distinction between “can” and “must be possi-ble without more ado” in Wittgenstein’s formulation of the fundamentalprinciple: his claim that when a question can be decided by logic at all, itmust be possible to decide it without more ado. Wittgenstein is notwarning us against confusing a supposed logical law with an empiricalgeneralization (for instance, mistaking the principle of nonmathe-matical induction for a logical principle). He assumes that logic can bestrictly delimited from factual statements. He is concerned with the verynature of logical as opposed to scientific investigation. It is this necessityof separating modes of inquiry that opens the question of the relationbetween “can” and “must be possible without more ado” in Wittgen-stein’s statement of the fundamental principle. The principle concerns,then, our conceptions of the nature and possibilities of logical investiga-tion. Thus it will also have implications for the nature and possibility ofphilosophical work.

The fundamental principle seems to warn us against confusing logicalwork with empirical work, that is, against defining the tasks of philoso-phy in a way that would fail to distinguish between the logical and em-pirical modes of inquiry, as if logical investigation could be conductedlike a scientific inquiry. Unlike Frege’s stricture against mixing empiricalor psychological observations with logical ones, Wittgenstein’s concernhere is with the tendency to rely on what properly belongs to the gram-mar of scientific investigation when attempting to describe the possibil-ity of work in logic.

But how can the grammar of a scientific question be distinguishedfrom that of a logical investigation? The grammar of science involves theconcept of hypothesis, thus a space of possible options among whichsomething can be discovered to be the case. Moreover, the concept of ascientific inquiry also involves the possibility of error, and hence wehave to assume the responsibility for determining the truth. Unless wedo something, take steps and make decisions, truth will not be discov-

94 Signs of Sense

ered, but it is this task that also opens up the possibility of error. Thetask of science further assumes the possibility of classification and hier-archy, the difference between the general and the specific, and all thework demanded by this mode of thought: the problems of reclassifying,asking how many kinds of things of a certain species there are, askingquestions about the domain of application of general laws, and having torevise them in the light of particular cases.

Furthermore, the notion of incompleteness is inherent to the conceptof scientific inquiry, allowing one to determine a direction of researchand questioning without coming up with complete answers. We can un-dertake scientific work without aiming to complete science at everystep, and without fearing that this incompletion would show what wehave done to be nonscience. Issues can be left open to further work;questions can be undecided yet statable. Every scientific question canbe answered, since the possibility of a sensical question involves lay-ing out a space of options among which the answer can be found. Butfinding the answer might require some more work. This is the gap be-tween “can” and “must be possible without more ado.” Scientific inquirycan pose a question which it can solve, but it cannot solve it withoutmore ado. Put differently, to ask a question is always to ask about alter-natives in a given framework or space of possibilities. This is why therecan be an answer; this is also why it takes some doing to arrive at theanswer.

In logic no such gap can exist. As Wittgenstein puts it at the very be-ginning of the Tractatus: “Nothing in the province of logic can be merelypossible. Logic deals with every possibility and all possibilities are itsfacts” (2.0121). This is why “in a certain sense, we cannot make mis-takes in logic” (5.473). This is not a psychological remark but a gram-matical one. Because logic is the condition of the possibility of facts, it isa field where one cannot go wrong; where there is no place for alterna-tives of true and false.

The various possibilities associated with the form of scientific workare dismissed in logic:

All numbers in logic stand in need of justification.Or rather, it must become evident that there are no numbers in logic.There are no pre-eminent numbers. (5.453)

In logic there is no co-ordinate status, and there can be no classifica-tion.

The Grammar of Analysis 95

In logic there can be no distinction between the general and the spe-cific. (5.454)

Moreover, logic is not something we are responsible for or must takecare not to misuse. We express ourselves with logic and have the respon-sibility for expressing the truth, but we are not responsible for the func-tioning of logic. It takes care of itself. Logic does not require our assis-tance. Wittgenstein expresses this insight in a way that ties together ourinterpretation of the fundamental idea that logical constants are not rep-resentatives with the fundamental principle concerning the possibilitiesof inquiry in logic:

[L]ogic is not a field in which we express what we wish with the help ofsigns, but rather one in which the nature of the absolutely necessarysigns speaks for itself. (6.124)

To this feature logic owes its a priori character and its completeness

It is possible—indeed possible even according to the old conceptionof logic—to give in advance a description of all ‘true’ logical proposi-tions. (6.125)

Hence there can never be surprises in logic. (6.1251)

Wittgenstein’s understanding of the a-priori nature of logic implies thatthere is no possibility of partial or cumulative work:

It is clear that whatever we can say in advance about the form of allpropositions, we must be able to say all at once. (5.47)

The a-priori in this sense is internally related to completeness. In logicthere is no possibility of hypothesis, projects, partial inquiries, looking,searching, and finding. No work in logic is work unless it is complete.Partiality is a sign that what is intended has not been captured. This isthe sense of simplicity that is associated with logic:

The solutions of the problems of logic must be simple, since they setthe standards of simplicity.

Men have always had a presentiment that there must be a realm inwhich the answers to questions are symmetrically combined—a pri-ori—to form a self-contained system.

A realm subject to the law: Simplex sigillum veri. (5.4541)

Such simplicity is to be understood not as the opposite of complexity—it is not the simplicity of the one as opposed to the complexity of the

96 Signs of Sense

many—but as a sign of the essential otherness of logic. That simplicity isfleshed out by the peculiar grammar of logical work. It contains no hy-pothesis, no classification, no partiality; it must always be one, com-plete.

As I have noted, these remarks of Wittgenstein’s are important not somuch for defining the domain of logical propositions as for helping usgrasp the nature of logical work and its conditions. In particular theyhave implications for what seems to be the very foundation of analyticphilosophy, namely, Russell’s statement: “That all sound philosophyshould begin with an analysis of propositions is a truth too evident, per-haps, to demand a proof.”5 Wittgenstein’s questioning of this supposedself-evidence is expressed early on in his Notebooks. That worry has todo with what it takes to complete an analysis, to end it, or to answer theoriginal questioning. For, once we distinguish grammatical and logicalform, we also require a criterion for recognizing when an analysis iscompleted. This criterion, established before undertaking analysis, mustspecify the nature of the objects reached at its end.6 The formal criterionfor ending an analysis is the simplicity of the component terms. But howto decide whether something is simple?

Is a point in our visual field a simple object, a thing? Up to now I havealways regarded such questions as the real philosophical ones: and forsure they are in some sense—but once more what evidence could settlea question of this sort at all? Is there not a mistake in the formulationhere, for it looks as if nothing at all were self-evident to me on thisquestion; it looks as if I could say definitively that these questionscould never be settled at all.7

Analysis cannot be thought of in terms of a scientific inquiry, for welack any criterion for determining what would satisfy us that we havereached the correct analysis. The outcome cannot be determined in ad-vance, but for it to be scientific we must at least be able to state in ad-vance the kind of objects to be reached at the end. But this means thatthe task of philosophy would be to specify a priori the ultimate constitu-

The Grammar of Analysis 97

5. B. Russell, The Philosophy of Leibniz, p. 8.

6. “Let some philosophical question be given: e.g. whether ‘A is good’ is a subject-predicate

proposition; or whether ‘A is brighter than B’ is a relational proposition. How can such a question

be settled at all? What sort of evidence can satisfy me that—for example—the first question

must be answered in the affirmative? (This is an extremely important question.) Is the only evi-

dence here once more that extremely dubious ‘self evidence?’” NB, p. 3.

7. NB, p. 3.

ents of reality. For Wittgenstein this is not a question that can be re-solved a priori; indeed, the attempt to resolve it a priori results in non-sense. What is analysis then? And if it is not what it seemed to be, thenwhat is the task of philosophy? Can there be philosophical logic?8

The Tractatus repeats emphatically that it does not make sense to askquestions about the ultimate form of reality:

It would be completely arbitrary to give any specific form. (5.554)

It is supposed to be possible to answer a priori the question whetherI can get into a position in which I need the sign for a 27-termed rela-tion in order to signify something. (5.5541)

But is it really legitimate to ask such a question? Can we set up aform of sign without knowing whether anything can correspond to it?

Does it make sense to ask what there must be in order that some-thing can be the case? (5.5542)

If I cannot say a priori what elementary propositions there are, thenthe attempt to do so must lead to obvious nonsense. (5.5571)

It is at this point that Wittgenstein’s thinking requires the recognition ofthe perfect order of everyday language.9 Objects must appear as the cor-relate of the sense we want to make, not as transcendental anchor pointsof language as such. They are present at the surface of language, whollytied to the functioning of everyday language.

In attempting to grasp this relation of simple signs to simples, to ob-jects, it is necessary to reflect once more on the starting point, on the ap-parent independence of the realm of objects from language. The initialmove I attributed to Wittgenstein was to undermine the concept of anobject as an independent “itness.” The object is inherently related to the

98 Signs of Sense

8. In response to Ogden’s suggestion that the English translation should bear the title

“Philosophic Logic,” Wittgenstein wrote: “although ‘Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus’ isn’t ideal

still it has something like the right meaning, whereas ‘Philosophic Logic’ is wrong. In fact I

don’t know what it means! There is no such thing as philosophic logic. (Unless one says that as

the whole book is nonsense the title might as well be nonsense too.)” LO, p. 20.

9. In his Notebooks Wittgenstein contrasts his philosophical method with Russell’s and crit-

icizes the latter as being too close to the method of science: “My method is not to sunder the

hard from the soft, but to see the hardness of the soft. It is one of the chief skills of the philoso-

pher not to occupy himself with questions which do not concern him. Russell’s method in his

‘Scientific method in Philosophy’ is simply a retrogression from the methods of physics.”

NB, 44.

space of possibilities it can occur in. That space of possibility is the formof the object. The apparent independence of this space of possibilityfrom language, which is suggested by the ontological tone of the open-ing of the Tractatus, is already qualified in some of Wittgenstein’s paren-thetical remarks throughout his discussion of objects by his introducingthe linguistic parallel to the strictly ontological language. It is his discus-sion of picturing that reveals the fundamental identity of language andworld, when he claims that the very possibility of making sense dependson an identity of form (the depicting form) of language and world.

The fundamental identity of language and world can be interpreted indifferent ways. We may be tempted to understand it as a form of realismaccording to which objects underlie the functioning of language. In thisview, language must reproduce in itself the form of those independentobjects in order to be able to function; that is, although the objectswould not be independent of states of affairs, they would have somecluster of internal properties which would completely determine whatthey are. But, most importantly, they would in a certain sense be inde-pendent of language, insofar as they could be independent of particularuses of language.

In Wittgenstein’s understanding of language, however, the object isnot an entity existing entirely in itself underlying the functioning of lan-guage in general, but the correlate of a determinate act of sense-making:“The requirement that simple signs be possible is the requirement thatsense be determinate” (3.23).

Wittgenstein has been criticized for failing to provide any examples ofsimple objects, as though he had some kind of argument for the exis-tence of simples but had no idea how to conduct a specific analysis andwhat its outcome would be. He supposedly turns objects into mysteri-ous entities hidden deep beneath the surface of language, maybe neverto be discovered. But his correlation of the possibility of simple signswith the very determinacy of sense points to an opposite conclusion:that objects are not hidden, mysterious entities but lie at the surface,completely tied to the sense we produce. It is for this very reason thatthey do not form part of the progress of the Tractatus.

Objects appear in the context of making perspicuous determinate actsof sense-making. They are not presupposed by language in general, butare correlates of concrete uses of language. In the Notebooks Wittgen-stein makes this idea very clear: “All I want is only for my meaning to

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be completely analyzed”; and further, “The demand for simple things isthe demand for definiteness of sense.”10 It is crucial to see that thiscontextualization does not imply a relativism with respect to meaning. Itexplains the relation of objects to specific contexts of use and in no wayinvolves the idea of private or incommunicable meaning.11

When sense is made at all, then something must be able to be ex-pressed in a definite manner. This means that the possibilities involvedin this act of sense-making have been made perspicuous. This is pre-cisely how the object is shown. Put differently, if there is sense, there isalways some complete and determinate sense. There is no indeterminatesense. “What a proposition expresses it expresses in a determinate man-ner, which can be set out clearly: a proposition is articulate” (3.251).This apparently obvious statement is one of the important insights of theTractatus. It is intimately connected with the claim that everyday lan-guage is in perfect logical order. All supposed indeterminacy and vague-ness in ordinary language are the result of not recognizing the forms thatare involved in our sense-making; that is, they result from an impositionof a standard of exactness derived from some a priori understanding ofhow reality must be for language to function. Instead, Wittgenstein di-rects us to recognize what is completely precise in such supposed vague-ness: “I only want to justify the vagueness of ordinary language, for itcan be justified.”12

Many arguments could be invoked to counter such a view. We couldargue, for example, that as they stand, propositions of everyday languageare essentially ambiguous. In this view, the issue is not how to bring out

100 Signs of Sense

10. NB, p. 63.

11. An example might illustrate the problem regarding the relation between objects and the

determination of sense. Take the proposition Wittgenstein discusses in his Notebooks, “The

book is lying on the table.” As an object the book has various characteristics that do not appear

in this sentence, such as a specific color or size. Now if the object is given independently of a

specific context of use, the task of analysis is to bring out the form of the object, and those di-

mensions must therefore be part of analysis itself. Thus although the analyzed proposition does

not make a determinate reference to the color of the book, it should specify the range of colors

(or sizes) it could have. However, the clear link between objects and determinacy of sense

means that only such dimensions that are relevant to the specific sense I am trying to make

should be brought out. To arrive at a determinate sense does not mean to add all the dimen-

sions that seem to belong to the general concept of that kind of object; it means expressing

what is implicit in a specific attempt to make sense.

12. NB, p. 70.

the sense that is implicit in them, but rather how to endow them withdeterminate sense. It is our decision to take them in a particular way thatmakes definite sense. However, this belief—that ordinary language is de-fective, inherently vague—arises from a misunderstanding of the notionof making sense. It is precisely Wittgenstein’s understanding that weonly say how things are, not what they are, that leads him to contextual-ize objects and to assert the determinacy of sense: “Objects can only benamed. Signs are their representatives. I can only speak about them: Icannot put them into words. Propositions can only say how things are, notwhat they are” (3.221).

In order to recognize that ordinary language is in perfect logical order,that language requires no logical work, we have to maintain the distinc-tion between showing objects and stating facts. Keeping these levelsstrictly apart allows us to avoid various misleading pictures of problemswith everyday language for which logical work is required.

In general we could say that the very notion that there are logicalproblems in everyday language depends on associating logic with theconstitution of objects and not merely with facts. When Wittgensteinthinks of logic as altogether the basic condition of any sign-language,and of such sign-language as concerned with picturing facts, he showsthat ordinary language, to the extent that it is a sign-language, is in per-fect logical order. This means that any problems that may arise with re-gard to ordinary language are only those concerned with dispelling am-biguity of signs, and not any intrinsic problems concerning symbols.

Now we can sketch the way in which the Tractatus addresses the prob-lem raised by the preceding reflections on analysis and logical work. Thetask of completing logic must be kept quite separate from the domain ofwork concerned with applying logic. The question of logic has to dowith the level of the linguistic sign, whereas understanding the form ofreality derives neither from the structure of the sign nor from logic.Logic allows us to make sense with signs; it determines the possibility oflanguage, but this does not mean that its forms are the forms of objects.Hence, on the one hand, the general form of the proposition has to beprovided, that is, the logical syntax of any sign-language. On the otherhand, all questions concerning the nature of the things—the ontologicalquestions—have to be left open as inherently beyond the scope of philo-sophical work. In particular they are beyond the task the Tractatus setitself.

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The Tractatus, then, proposes a kind of truce: the general form of theproposition can and must be completely characterized, but the inner re-lations that constitute the richness or complexity of experience, of theworld, are not something we can arrive at a priori. The uncovering of theobject constitutes a completely different dimension of thinking.

We are now in a position to assess the last of Wittgenstein’s three fun-damental propositions cited earlier and show its intimate connection tothe other two:

In fact, all the propositions of our everyday language, just as theystand, are in perfect logical order.—That utterly simple thing, whichwe have to formulate here, is not a likeness of the truth, but the truthitself in its entirety.

(Our problems are not abstract, but the most concrete that thereare). (5.5563)

Indeed, if there is no possibility of work, of discovery, in analysis, if allanalysis must aim at expressing better what we already have present, andwhat we always already have present is ordinary language, then ordinarylanguage acquires the importance of a standard. Ordinary language isthe very thing that is wholly in view, that we do not need to think of asan object of in-depth research.

In this chapter I have elaborated the idea of what expresses itselfthrough language in the context of Wittgenstein’s understanding of theproblem of analysis. The question now arises as to how such expressionin language can be recognized. The very idea that showing is always inrelation to what is already there, to what is given, implies that we cannotview the project of the Tractatus as constructing an ideal language. In-stead, we need to acknowledge what already exists and expresses itselfin language.

Thus the task of the Tractatus emerges as the defense of the languagethat is implicated in our lives and in our world, our everyday language.This was primarily characterized as a defense against the imposition ofcertain pictures of exactness. I shall now consider how everyday lan-guage is recognized in and of itself as a locus of significance.

102 Signs of Sense

Signs of Sense Making Sense and Recognizing Meaning

7

Making Sense and RecognizingMeaning

I ended the discussion of picturing by suggesting a distinction betweentwo levels in language: that of the manipulation of pictures, the activityof thinking which determines what can be said, and a deeper identity ofform which can only be shown, and which makes it possible to depictthings at all. This distinction parallels the distinction between facts andobjects, but it can also be approached through the distinction Wittgen-stein draws between sense (Sinn) and meaning (Bedeutung) in proposi-tion 4.002.

Man possesses the ability to construct languages capable of express-ing every sense, without having any idea how each word has meaningor what its meaning is—just as people speak without knowing how theindividual sounds are produced.

Everyday language is a part of the human organism and is no lesscomplicated than it.

It is not humanly possible to gather immediately from it what thelogic of language is.

Language disguises thought. So much so, that from the outwardform of the clothing it is impossible to infer the form of the thought be-neath it, because the outward form of the clothing is not designed toreveal the form of the body, but for entirely different purposes.

The tacit conventions on which the understanding of everyday lan-guage depends are enormously complicated.

This proposition stands out from the rest of the text. It contains con-cepts such as the ‘human organism’ that seem to belong to the repertoireof the later Wittgenstein, anticipating his understanding of forms of life.

103

Moreover, these concepts are not directly elaborated elsewhere in theTractatus, in contrast to the very slow pace that characterizes the analy-sis of other terms in the text (compare the painstaking analysis of ‘pic-ture’ and ‘sign’). This difference in pace is not fortuitous. It corresponds,in general, to the different treatment Wittgenstein accords issues such asthe nature of picturing, signs, logical constants, on the one hand, andisolated propositions pertaining to life, death, the subject, metaphysicsand the world, on the other. When these latter, pivotal propositions areplaced within their context, they become a gathering point for our un-derstanding of the text.

One of the most striking features of proposition 4.002 is surely thedevelopment of an analogy between language and the body or the hu-man organism. This analogy is complex and demands a careful reading.It is of the utmost importance in evaluating later propositions in theTractatus determining the relation of the world to the limits of languageand life. “Man possesses the ability to construct languages capable of ex-pressing every sense.” Not knowing what making sense is, we may thinkthat there is a lot we are missing in the world, sense that cries out for ex-pression. This feeling is not entirely mistaken, only it cannot be ac-counted for in terms of representation or sense. The realm of representa-tion is adequate for every possible sense. Sense is always very much amatter of fact, of the way things are configured.

Wittgenstein’s account of representation has explained why we maybe tempted to say that something is intrinsically unsayable. Our feelingthat there are things that are unsayable arises from our wish to expressobjects, to capture the things themselves. For Wittgenstein, however, tomake sense is always to represent facts, never to capture objects.

I can only speak about [objects]: I cannot put them into words. Propo-sitions can only say how things are, not what they are. (3.221)

Wittgenstein understands the essence of the proposition, of makingsense, as the general propositional form: this is how things stand. Beingable to express every sense, then, means being able to describe howthings stand, however they stand. Now ‘how’ should be contrasted to‘what’. Making sense has to do with expressing the structure of facts, not‘what’ the objects are, that is their form. Form is always presupposed insaying how things stand. Making sense is always representing facts.There is no sense that is inexpressible. But this deflationary view of therealm of sense opens the way for Wittgenstein to establish the distinc-

104 Signs of Sense

tion between making sense and recognizing meaning. It is at this levelthat the original intuition that the world has meaningfulness beyondwhat we say about it can be properly understood.

“Man possesses the ability to construct languages capable of express-ing every sense, without having any idea how each word has meaning orwhat its meaning is—just as people speak without knowing how the in-dividual sounds are produced.” Just as the production of sound origi-nates in a state of the body, of its vocal strings, so the production of sensecan be said to be dependent on the body of meaning. In contrast to thedualistic line of thinking that separates the body from meaningfulness,Wittgenstein aims to delimit a place within language, a body of mean-ing. It is in this space of embodied meaningfulness that language andworld come together. Wittgenstein’s account of picturing can help usidentify this dimension of language as the recognition of form. Form iswhere the body of language is indistinguishable from the world.

Thus body is not what is represented but what underlies the possibil-ity of representation. I assume further that the invocation of body is tobe contrasted to what is conscious, to what we do consciously. This im-plies a split within language: the production of sense belongs to con-scious activity, but Wittgenstein emphasizes that it goes on while we areunaware of the conditions that enable it to occur. Wittgenstein’s claimthat “Man possesses the ability to construct languages capable of ex-pressing every sense, without having any idea how each word has mean-ing or what its meaning is” establishes a fundamental contrast betweenthe realm of conscious, directed activity—the capacity of human beingsto represent facts— and the realm of form, which is not something thatwe can construct or control. This dimension of activity was already ap-parent in the initial discussion of picturing.

We make to ourselves pictures of facts. (2.1)1

By calling a picture a “model” (2.12), Wittgenstein further emphasizesthat it is something that we construct. The thoughtfulness that has to dowith the recognition of form is to be distinguished from the thinkingthat is the making of sense, that is bound to facts, to our conscious activ-ity of representation. Recognizing form means opening another dimen-sion of language. But what ought we to be attentive to so as to open thisdimension, and what are its implications?

Making Sense and Recognizing Meaning 105

1. I have chosen to rely here on Ogden’s translation, which better captures the German:

“Wir machen uns Bilder der Tatsachen.”

According to Wittgenstein, everyday language is the locus in whichthe split in language is manifest. “Everyday language is a part of the hu-man organism and is no less complicated than it.” Here he is not think-ing of the human organism in the biological or anatomical sense. Hedoes not reduce human sense-producing activity to biological functions,but directs us to the connection between human meaningfulness and theconcept of life or the organic. He does not conceive of language as an ab-stract system of conventions but rather as constitutive of the life of asubject. The concept of life directs us to conceive of language as an ac-tivity in which an organism is related to its surroundings. Thinking oflife in relation to language means primarily that this activity is presentedhere not as the work of blind instinct but rather as constituting a sphereof meaning. In other words, the recognition of meaning is the openingof possibilities of living for a subject.2 Viewed in its concrete applica-tion, language is inseparable from human activity. The human organismshould then be understood as the meaningful surroundings of activityfor a subject, a human world. To live in a human world is to be able torecognize meaning, or possibilities of being, just as to act toward a hu-man being depends, for example, on the ability to recognize expressionsof sadness, joy, pain, or boredom through their bodily expressions. Therecognition of meaning is not the discovery of an empirical connectionbetween a thought and a body.3 Such significance or meaningfulness ofthe body is an original phenomenon, part of what language is as such.4

Wittgenstein then establishes a connection between the concept of

106 Signs of Sense

2. This identification is supported by such propositions as “The world and life are one”

(5.621) and “I am my world. (The microcosm.)” (5.63). I will develop these identifications of

the world and life in chapters 8 and 9.

3. In his Notebooks Wittgenstein struggles with this notion that the body expresses mean-

ing: “. . . Can I infer my spirit from my physiognomy? Isn’t this relation purely empirical? Does

my body really express anything? Is it itself an internal expression of something? Is e.g. an an-

gry face angry in itself or merely because it is empirically connected with bad temper?” (NB,

p. 84). Interestingly, in the Tractatus Wittgenstein proposes an analogy between internal prop-

erties and facial features: “An internal property of a fact can also be called a feature of that fact

(in the sense in which we speak of facial features, for example)” (4.1221).

4. In using the term ‘significant’ I draw on the relation between the German Bedeutung with

its philosophical connotations and the more ordinary sense of significance associated with the

term. Wittgenstein uses the latter sense, for example, in his Notebooks: “Als Ding unter Dingen

ist jedes Ding gleich unbedeutend, als Welt jedes gleichbedeutend” (NB, p. 83). I will return to

this claim, which ties significance to having a world.

life or the organism and everyday language. Usually we think of the useof everyday language as indicating an average existence, a way of takingthings merely as familiar, failing to recognize their internal constitution.Wittgenstein points out that it is everyday language that gives us theproper field of application of signs and allows us to recognize meaning.It is only in everyday language that the enormous complexity of mean-ing in language can be recognized. Rather than set everyday languageaside to gain the recognition of meaning, this dimension can be openedonly in everyday language, insofar as language is taken as part of the hu-man organism. The everyday is where things can appear meaningful,presenting possibilities for me, becoming part of my world.

We may be misled by Wittgenstein’s comparison of language to cloth-ing that does not reveal the real form of the body.

Language disguises thought. So much so, that from the outward formof the clothing it is impossible to infer the form of the thought beneathit, because the outward form of the clothing is not designed to revealthe form of the body, but for entirely different purposes.

However, if we follow the analogy between language and the bodythroughout this proposition, we perceive that what is beneath the cloth-ing is the enormous complexity covered by tacit understanding, namely,meaning as it appears in the human world. Language does not immedi-ately reveal the form of the world, but this does not mean that it is itselfout of order. We must consider language as part of the human organism,in the life or application of those signs:

What signs fail to express, their application shows. What signs slurover, their application says clearly. (3.262)

According to Wittgenstein, the essential feature of human language isthe split between the capacity to produce sense, given our means of ex-pression, and the recovery of the object, the body of meaning, that canshow through our making of sense. It is not necessary to know mean-ings, objects, in order to produce sense. This means that the lack oftransparency in language has to do with the very nature of the distinc-tion between the activity of representing and the recovery of its condi-tions. The split is a feature of human language as such: “It is not hu-manly possible to gather immediately from [everyday language] whatthe logic of language is.”

Making Sense and Recognizing Meaning 107

It is tempting, yet in my view misguided, to read Wittgenstein as im-plying that the problem has to do with everyday language and would beavoided in an ideal language. Let us recall his insistence that “in fact, allthe propositions of everyday language, just as they stand, are in perfectlogical order” (5.5563). The problem is, rather, that this order is not im-mediately perspicuous. But this lack of immediacy is a feature of everylanguage we construct, including a so-called ideal language, namely alanguage whose syntactical means of expression would be clearly dis-played in the signs. Language in use, language that has a life and is notmerely an artificial construct, will always manifest this gap between themaking of sense and the recovery of what constitutes our human world.Meaning is not ours to make. Hence the level of significant communi-cation as such is impossible to anticipate, but can only be recoveredthrough what shows itself in language. Our ability to make sense is anintrinsic part of our being in a human world, and that world is accessiblethrough its reflection in language; it must be recognized after the fact.

The Tractatus establishes a sharp distinction between facts and ob-jects, between what we can do when we investigate facts, make hypothe-ses, ask ourselves how things are, and give answers of the form “this ishow things are” on the one hand, and the recognition of meaning on theother, the realization of “what things are.” As we have seen, Wittgensteinstresses that it does not make sense to ask questions about the ultimateform of reality.

It would be completely arbitrary to give any specific form. (5.554)If I cannot say a priori what elementary propositions there are, then

the attempt to do so must lead to obvious nonsense. (5.5571)

The form of the realm of representation is what is given as logical space.It should be kept distinct from the form of objects. Logic indeed deter-mines the form of representation, thus the form of how things are, but itis not constitutive of what things are.

Logic is prior to every experience—that something is so.It is prior to the question ‘How?’, not prior to the question ‘What?’

(5.552)

The application of logic decides what elementary propositions thereare. (5.557)

This does not mean that the application of logic decides which amongall possible elementary propositions are true, but rather that it gives the

108 Signs of Sense

constitution of elementary propositions. Elementary propositions con-sist of objects, and the form of objects is what spans the possibility ofour human world and any world we can humanly imagine. This meansthat the grammar of reality, what determines the possibility of our world,cannot be given a priori, once and for all, systematically and in advanceof our encounter with experience. The grammar of reality must be rec-ognized without anything to go by but what we are willing and unwill-ing to say in language, in judging the world. My emphasis on recogni-tion as constitutive of meaning therefore accords with this affirmation ofordinary language, of what we already have, and the critique of anymetaphysical attempt at grounding meaning, reducing a priori the na-ture of the possible.5

Wittgenstein repeats this theme, which will become so central to hislater thinking, in “Some Remarks on Logical Form”:

Now we can only substitute a clear symbolism for the unprecise one byinspecting the phenomena which we want to describe, thus trying tounderstand their logical multiplicity. That is to say, we can only arriveat a correct analysis by what might be called the logical investigation ofthe phenomena themselves, i.e. in a certain sense a posteriori, and notby conjecturing about a priori possibilities. One is often tempted to askfrom an a priori standpoint: What, after all, can be the forms of atomicpropositions, and to answer, e.g. subject, predicate, and relationalpropositions with two or more terms further, perhaps propositions re-lating predicates and relations to one another, and so on. But this, I be-lieve, is mere playing with words. An atomic form cannot be foreseen.And it could be surprising if the actual phenomena had nothing moreto teach us about their structure.6

It might be helpful to distinguish Wittgenstein’s understanding of therecognition of meaning from Russell’s conception of analysis and of ob-jects that are the end point of such analysis. Wittgenstein would say thatanalysis must lead us to elementary propositions containing names inimmediate combination. This is very different from saying that analysisleads us to logically structured propositions containing ultimate constit-uents. Wittgenstein’s scheme gets rid of the logical scaffolding to arrive

Making Sense and Recognizing Meaning 109

5. Thus we see once more that the traditional complaint about the Tractatus, namely that

Wittgenstein gives no examples of simple objects, is wholly misguided. What there is, objects

forming a human world, is not within the scope of the Tractatus and the kind of work the book

envisages.

6. SRLF, p. 32.

at a level of names in immediate combination, incorporating logicalstructure. Logical structure, as it were, schematically marks the internalrelations between propositions which allow us to recognize the object.

Russell’s scheme complicates logical structure to arrive at constituentsthat cannot be further broken down: the most basic building blocks puttogether with the cement of logic. According to Russell, the discovery ofobjects involves an ever more complex breaking down of the proposi-tion, whereas Wittgenstein is concerned with perspicuously presentingall propositions that can be shown to be internally connected, and byshowing that internal connection, he seeks to bring out the nature of theobject. In contrast to a Russellian metaphor of depth correlated with theprocess of analysis, Wittgenstein, so to speak, forms a surface, a mirrorthat shows inner connection between propositions. For Wittgenstein,grasping meaning is always a matter of recognizing form, never a discov-ery that penetrates beneath the surface of language into some hiddendepth of logical structure where mysterious objects lie buried.

The thoughtfulness associated with the recognition of the body ofmeaning can be elaborated by associating it with Wittgenstein’s use of‘showing’ as distinct from ‘saying’. The concept of showing involves afundamental passivity with respect to meaning. Showing involves some-thing that is already there, which we turn or return to; it is a realm ofpresence and not a realm of activity that generates projects, anticipa-tions, hypotheses, discoveries, hierarchies, systematization, or enumera-tion. Showing characterizes our access to the level of form or meaning.Our access to the body of meaning is precisely opposed to our activity ofmaking sense, to our capacity to operate with pictures. It is not a repre-sentation but a laying out, or presenting, of the ligaments that hold thebody together, thus showing the form of the body.

Russell’s conception of analysis requires us to make various assump-tions concerning the objects that are the end point of analysis. Once wego beyond what can be recognized in the functioning of everyday lan-guage, we need criteria for determining the end point of the process ofanalysis. It becomes necessary to ground language in some metaphysicaloutlook. According to Wittgenstein, the ‘showing’ that is characteristicof the recognition of form is linked to the acceptance of the form of ev-eryday language and the rejection of any a priori hypothesizing aboutthe ultimate structure of reality. Wittgenstein’s fundamental distinctionbetween philosophy and the form of scientific work, with its possibili-

110 Signs of Sense

ties of advance and discovery, also explains his distaste for Russell’s con-struction of the external world and later for Carnap’s Aufbau project.This is also the reason that thinking in terms of meta-languages does notresolve the issues raised by Wittgenstein’s notion of ‘showing’ (as Russellproposes in his introduction to the Tractatus, or Carnap in his LogicalSyntax of Language). This approach completely misses Wittgenstein’s in-tention in introducing and using that term.

Showing is not intuition, in the sense of a special recognitional capac-ity. It does not mean that analysis comes to an end with an intuition ofwhat the world is really like. Rather, it is to be thought of as an acknowl-edgment of the conditions of saying, which means the complete pres-ence of those conditions.

Coming into presence is the way things show.7 One can speak here ofpresentness, in the sense that nothing can happen in the sphere of con-ditions. All happenings, all facts are determinations of the conditions(Wittgenstein calls them configurations of objects). This sense of an ev-erlasting present can be the basis for the visual analogy between the rec-ognition of possibilities and showing. Showing depends on the absolutecancellation of any hiddenness, the absence of deep structure. Condi-tions appear completely; there is no partial achievement or things left forfuture inquiry. Now we can discern the close connection between thenature of showing and the fundamental importance Wittgenstein attrib-utes to everyday language:

In fact, all the propositions of our everyday language, just as theystand, are in perfect logical order.—That utterly simple thing, whichwe have to formulate here, is not a likeness of the truth, but the truthitself in its entirety. (Our problems are not abstract, but the most con-crete that there are.) (5.5563)

The note of urgency in this assertion arises from the perception thatsuch a relation to everyday language is of concern to the subject, is re-lated to the assumption of subjectivity.

Making Sense and Recognizing Meaning 111

7. I put it this way in order to form an initial connection between this discussion and

Wittgenstein’s sense that presentness is grace, as when he says, “eternal life belongs to those

who live in the present” (6.4311).

Signs of Sense Subject and World

8

Subject and World

The mode in which Wittgenstein presents the discovery of what there is,the form of objects, involves a dimension of recognition, acknowledg-ment, or appropriation of what is given in language. This in turn raisesthe question of the relation between subject and world. What is it for thesubject to assume or avoid the limits that must be recognized in lan-guage? Is it possible to think of the subject in terms of the very move-ment of appropriation and avoidance? In Wittgenstein’s elaboration ofthe possibility of claiming the world to be my world, appropriation ap-pears as a dimension of ontology.

At the outset note a structural feature of Wittgenstein’s account of thesubject, which links his appearance to the recovery of what cannot beanticipated: the form of experience. Wittgenstein’s account of the sub-ject starts in 5.54, stops abruptly in 5.55 with a rather long discussion ofthe relation of logic to its application, and returns to the subject in 5.6.This insertion of matters seemingly unrelated to the question of the sub-ject gives us in fact a crucial clue to Wittgenstein’s approach. The initialdiscussion concerns how not to speak of the subject, that is, it shows thenonexistence of the thinking subject. It opens with what may be consid-ered a formulation of the general relation of representation: “In the gen-eral propositional form propositions occur in other propositions only asbases of truth-operations” (5.54). The disappearance of the thinkingsubject therefore seems to be closely linked to the proper understandingof the most general form of the proposition, of what can be given in ad-vance of experience. The reappearance of the subject, that is, the way tospeak of the subject in philosophy, follows the assertion that the specificforms of elementary propositions cannot be given a priori. Here the re-

112

appearance of the subject is closely linked to the understanding that thelimits of experience—set by the objects or the specific forms of elemen-tary propositions—cannot be anticipated.

Wittgenstein asserts: “There is no such thing as the subject that thinksor entertains ideas” (5.631); that is, there is no subject that stands insome external relation to thoughts, ideas, or propositions. I have alreadyexplained the basis for this statement in my interpretation of picturing.Indeed, if thinking is the operation of making sense, then sense is notsome entity to be grasped by the thinking subject. Rather, what we couldcall the thinking subject is assumed in the very notion of producingsense. This is why Wittgenstein says that the real form of propositions inpsychology such as ‘A believes that p’ or ‘A has the thought p,’ which ap-parently involve an external relation between a subject and a sense, isactually ‘“p” says p.’ The thinking subject is assumed in what it is for “p”to express the sense p.

We can now understand Wittgenstein’s assertion that Russell’s con-ception of judgment cannot explain why it is impossible to judge non-sense. If we had a proposition whose form was ‘A judges that p,’ thenthere would be an external relation between the simple A and the com-plex p, and we would be unable to explain why it is impossible for A tostand in that external relation to, say, an object. There is nothing to ex-plain why A must stand in that relation only to propositions. Only an in-ternal connection between the act of thinking or judging and the consti-tution of the judgment is capable of explaining why a subject cannotjudge what is not sense, what is nonsense.

It is significant that in this context Wittgenstein presents us with apreliminary statement of the issue which will come to be known in hislater work as the seeing of aspects:

To perceive a complex means to perceive that its constituents are re-lated to one another in such and such a way.

This no doubt also explains why there are two possible ways of see-ing the figure

Subject and World 113

a

b

a

b

a

b

a

b

as a cube; and all similar phenomena. For we really see two differentfacts. (5.5423)

We should resist the temptation to explain such phenomena by assum-ing the existence of a subject who can change his attention in relation toa self-same object: if the object does not change, then it must be some-thing in the subject that changes. This line of reasoning falsely assumesan independent subject standing in relation to objects. Wittgenstein,however, argues that what we are tempted to call seeing the same objectwith different subjective attitudes is precisely seeing different facts.What is grasped is not the object as such but relations of constituentsgiven a certain background of form.

The appearance of the subject, then, does not involve the usual way ofassociating subjectivity and the realm of representation, but rather in-volves what I shall call the appropriation of the form of experience. Thisis how I intend to approach the series of propositions that reintroducethe subject as a concern for philosophy (5.6–5.641).

Wittgenstein writes: “The limits of my language mean the limits of myworld” (5.6). Note here the sudden appearance of the fundamental con-cepts ‘limit’ and ‘world’ and of the possessive pronoun ‘my’ in relatingthose concepts to the subject. Any interpretation of Wittgenstein’s un-derstanding of the subject must consider his specific use of these con-cepts.

An initial elaboration of the concept of world would introduce someidea of connectedness, of unity, of things taken as a whole. We shoulddistinguish this concept of totality, or world as a limited whole, fromvarious other ideas associated with the concept. Wittgenstein does notuse “world” to mean the universe, or nature as a systematic whole obey-ing physical laws. Such an understanding would think of the world andlimits through the form of the factual. He seeks rather to separate theconcept of world and limits from the factual, which is always capable ofbeing localized, of being distinguished from other possibilities in thesame space. A fact is always this as opposed to that; it is logic, with itseithers and ors, that establishes the separability characteristic of therealm of the factual. This is made clear by proposition 5.61:

Logic pervades the world: the limits of the world are also its limits.So we cannot say in logic, ‘The world has this in it, and this, but not

that.’For that would appear to presuppose that we were excluding certain

114 Signs of Sense

possibilities, and this cannot be the case, since it would require thatlogic should go beyond the limits of the world; for only in that waycould it view those limits from the other side as well.

We cannot think what we cannot think; so what we cannot think wecannot say either.1

From the perspective of logic, of what can be said or represented, wecannot express what the limits of the world are, we cannot speak of theworld as a delimited totality or as a limited whole.2

If limits are conceived in terms of sense-making, it may be tempting toread Wittgenstein’s alignment of subjectivity, world, and limits as pre-senting a picture of epistemological solipsism. This temptation is bothelicited and defeated through the complex network of ambiguities thatgoverns proposition 5.62:

This remark provides the key to the problem, how much truth thereis in solipsism.

For what the solipsist means [meint] is quite correct; only it cannotbe said, but makes itself manifest.

The world is my world: this is manifest in the fact that the limits oflanguage (of that language which alone I understand) mean [bedeuten]the limits of my world.

At first sight it might appear as if Wittgenstein viewed the subject as cap-tive of his own sense-making, unable ever to break away from the veil ofrepresentation. We would thus read him as affirming, in contrast to hislater self, the essential privacy of meaning, and we would interpret theparenthetical remark in 5.62 as positing a language which I alone canunderstand, a private language, or a private ground for language. Butthis remark should also be read as the claim that it is in language alonethat I reach understanding; I understand nothing but language.3 Indeed,Wittgenstein intends here to recast the truth of solipsism: “For what thesolipsist means is quite correct; only it cannot be said, but makes itselfmanifest” (5.62). The solipsist, as it were, ‘means well’ (meinen), but in

Subject and World 115

1. I note in passing that the last sentence of proposition 5.61 bears some resemblance to

proposition 7. Although there are important differences between the formulations, their simi-

larity testifies to the importance of the moment. On this issue see my Chapter 10 below.

2. Significantly, for Frege and Russell logic emerges as the most general science. It does not

incorporate the concept of totality.

3. See J. Hintikka, “On Wittgenstein’s ‘Solipsism,’” in Copi and Beard (eds.), Essays on Witt-

genstein’s Tractatus, pp. 157–162.

effect his way of expressing himself completely misses the mark; he failsto mean (bedeuten) the limits of the world.

Nonetheless, Wittgenstein’s contrast between saying and manifesta-tion might in itself cause a further misreading, as if there were some un-derstanding that went beyond language and, for that reason, could neverbe shared. Although Wittgenstein indeed recognizes a certain truth tosolipsism, a sense of isolation tied to the advent of subjectivity, this mustbe understood in terms of a dimension of being in language. How, then,can we avoid the aporia formed by the impossibility of saying the limitsof language and the need to avoid positing an understanding beyondlanguage? What are the limits of language?

It is crucial to note that Wittgenstein speaks of the limits of languageas meaning (bedeuten) the limits of the world. This is precisely the re-verse of the solipsistic predicament, which turns representation into ascreen veiling our access to the real. Our interpretation of Wittgenstein’sdifferentiation of sense and meaning must be brought to bear on the un-derstanding of limits in language. Limits are recognized in the realm ofmeaning, where language and objects are brought together rather thanseparated. The body of meaning emerges at the limits, manifesting theshared origin of subject and world.

Wittgenstein’s concept of limit cannot be understood in terms of therepresentation of the world. From the point of view of representationthere is no limit whatsoever. This is the point of Wittgenstein’s analogybetween the visual field and the field of experience as such.

Where in the world is a metaphysical subject to be found?You will say that this is exactly like the case of the eye and the visual

field. But really you do not see the eye.And nothing in the visual field allows you to infer that it is seen by an

eye. (5.633)

For the form of the visual field is surely not like this

Eye—

(5.6331)

116 Signs of Sense

This is connected with the fact that no part of our experience is atthe same time a priori.

Whatever we see could be other than it is.Whatever we can describe at all could be other than it is.There is no a priori order of things. (5.634)

Picture and sight are indeed made for each other. One of the conse-quences of Wittgenstein’s account of representation was the claim thatno proposition is a priori. An a priori proposition would be a limit prop-osition, for it would give a definite and necessary form to the possibilityof experience. There is no a priori picture, just as there is no limit to thevisual field. Hence the impossibility of locating the subject in the worldis not merely the impossibility of recognizing an object in space andtime that is a genuine subject. More importantly, it is the impossibility ofrepresenting limits to the world, that is, of having a complete and system-atic account of its form.

Traditionally, since Kant at least, the unity of the subject has been cor-related with the unity of the object of experience. Wittgenstein’s accountmakes the realm of objects intrinsically impossible to anticipate system-atically. The subject cannot be given in advance, once and for all, by be-ing correlated with a necessary unity of the manifold of experience. In-sofar as we have a concept of limit that is derived from the discoveryof objects, these limits will be given as it were a posteriori, or rather,through the temporality proper to the recovery of meaning. Wittgen-stein proposes, then, a concept of limit understood in relation to mean-ing, associated with the form of objects rather than the logic of facts. Thelimit is what brings out a thing in its essential possibilities of being. Sucha concept of limit does not divide a space into two sides as negationdoes, but opens the space in which a thing is.

But if the essence of a thing cannot be determined a priori as a neces-sary structure of experience, what can determine the limit? What makesus recognize what something is? We can now understand why Wittgen-stein introduces the concept of limit in relation to world rather than tofacts or objects, for it is the belonging of the thing to a world that deter-mines the limit. In his Notebooks Wittgenstein writes:

As a thing among things, each thing is equally insignificant; as a worldeach one equally significant.

If I have been contemplating the stove, and then am told: but now allyou know is the stove, my result does indeed seem trivial. For this rep-

Subject and World 117

resents the matter as if I had studied the stove as one among the manythings in the world. But if I was contemplating the stove it was myworld, and everything else colorless by contrast with it.4

Here Wittgenstein suggests that what we might tend to call a small partof the world—if we think of the world as the totality of facts, say fromthe perspective of the opening of the Tractatus—can, when investedwith significance, be properly called a world in itself. Wittgenstein alsonotes that such significance might appear from the outside, from theperspective of facts, completely worthless, trivial. The force of a worldcannot be experienced from outside. It is all but dismissable. This in-sight also points to the difficulty of assessing philosophically the place ofsuch a concept as ‘world’, for the very experience of worldhood is liableto be missed. A certain perspective on things may leave it behind, as theopening word of a book, or push it indefinitely ahead, to its closingstatements.

Moreover, Wittgenstein thinks of a thing such as a stove as somethingthat is capable of gathering a world around it. The thing in itself bears anaffinity to the world; or, more precisely, the essential form of the thingappears when it is placed in its world, as a significant appearance com-pared with which everything else seems colorless. Most importantly, thisexample, by associating world with significance, shows that the possibil-ity of world depends on the involvement of a subject. It can be said thatthe concept of world belongs to a unified structure which places a sub-ject in relation to a world. The central notion is that of being in theworld, of which the concept of world partakes. Understanding the sub-ject in terms of ‘being in the world’ or ‘being in language’ might be calledan existential understanding of subjectivity.

What are the essential dimensions of an existential analysis of worldand subject? For Wittgenstein this belonging of subject to world is man-ifested by the possessive pronoun, the world is my world. Appropriationis the central determination of existence, and it is expressed in the claim“the world is my world” as it appears in 5.641, the last in the series ofpropositions concerned with the subject.5

118 Signs of Sense

4. NB, p. 83.

5. Schopenhauer opens The World as Will and Representation with the claim: “‘The world is

my representation’; this is a truth valid with reference to every living and knowing being” (vol.

1, p. 3), and adds further that there is another truth “which must be very serious and grave if

not terrible to everyone, . . . that a man also can say and must say: ‘The world is my will’” (ibid.,

Thus there really is a sense in which philosophy can talk about theself in a non-psychological way.

What brings the self into philosophy is the fact that ‘the world is myworld’.

The philosophical self is not the human being, not the human body,or the human soul, with which psychology deals, but rather the meta-physical subject, the limit of the world—not a part of it. (5.641)

I detect here a sense of relief or even astonishment in rediscovering theself after it was seemingly cast out of the realm of representation: “therereally is a sense in which philosophy can talk about the self.” The sur-prise here is also related to the fact that this understanding is fleeting; itdisappears and reappears, as it were. Because of its very structure it mustalways disappear and be recovered, or appear through the recovery ofmeaning.

A second point of interest is that Wittgenstein uses the term Rede todescribe how philosophy speaks of the self. This act of speech, I take it,is to be distinguished from the making of sense. Philosophy has a saythat is of concern to the self. Moreover, “what brings the self into philos-ophy” need not be interpreted as meaning that philosophy is about theself, that the self is its topic in a propositional sense, but rather sug-gests that the self is brought into the orbit of philosophizing. Hence weshould give due attention to the question of the form of expression nec-essary to philosophy when the self is its concern. In particular, this issueshould be kept in mind when reading the end of the Tractatus.6

Perhaps the most significant point in this proposition is that Wittgen-stein speaks here of the self, the I, the first person.7 This is a point that iseasy to miss, and it is not unrelated to the likelihood of missing the sig-nificance of ‘world’ for Wittgenstein. Wittgenstein is not speaking of asubject in general but of how I assume meaning in language.8 What is at

Subject and World 119

p. 4). Wittgenstein’s assertion that “The world is my world” (5.641) gives the impression that

he both associates himself with and distinguishes himself from Schopenhauer. The association

is in the very statement about the world as “my world,” the dissociation in collapsing both

claims onto one.

6. “What brings the self into philosophy” can also be read as the claim that one can philoso-

phize with the self, bring oneself to philosophy. Those issues will be taken up in my interpreta-

tion of the appearance of the self (the author) at the end of the Tractatus (6.54).

7. This is brought out in Ogden’s translation, which simply gives “I” for the German Ich.

8. We can now come closer to understanding Wittgenstein’s statement in the Preface, in

which he addresses the book to the one person who would get pleasure from reading it with

understanding. That there is one person every time is a logical, and not a psychological, point.

stake is not merely the appearance of an abstract transcendental subject,but a connection between the metaphysical subject and the concreteproblem of saying “I,” of taking language upon oneself. This idea estab-lishes a contrast between an abstract, objectivized understanding of thesphere of the possible, and the formation of possibility in relation to mylife. The pronoun “my” is thus crucial in marking the fact that the rangeof possibilities always depends on the concrete use “I” make of lan-guage. Possibilities are always possibilities of existence for a subject. Thesubject cannot be given apart from my acknowledgment and denial ofwhat there is. The subject is always given as an “I,” acknowledgment isalways in the first person. This sense of individuation is how the truth ofsolipsism manifests itself.9

In the realm of representation possibilities exist independently of theinvolvement of a subject. It is only by opening the gap between repre-sentation and meaning that a thematics of appropriation can be devel-oped: that one can be said to own experience and not merely to be sur-rounded by facts. Only in the sphere of meaning can the first person beintroduced as the possibility of assuming that world, or of falling out ofattunement with it.

“I am my world” means, then, that I find meaning in the world, mean-ing not determined by my active mastery of sense. The question “whoam I?” must be answered by way of the question “what is there?” or,more precisely, by my capacity to assume or avoid such meaningful-ness.10 As Wittgenstein writes in his Notebooks: “I have to judge the

120 Signs of Sense

9. This interpretation makes sense of certain remarks in the Notebooks, such as: “There re-

ally is only one world soul, which I for preference call my soul and as which alone I conceive

what I call the souls of others” (NB, p. 49). Indeed, I appear through the way in which I relate

to the intelligence of language, call it the world soul.

10. It should be clear that although such a conception of the body of meaning derives from

Schopenhauer’s understanding of the world as will, it does not give the same primacy to my

body as he does. Indeed, for Wittgenstein there is no privileged position to my body, but only to

the body of meaning in language. Proposition 5.631 can be seen as a direct critique of Schopen-

hauer: “If I wrote a book called The World as I Found It, I should have to include a report on my

body, and should have to say which parts were subordinated to my will, and which were not,

etc., this being a method of isolating the subject, or rather of showing that in an important

sense there is no subject; for it alone could not be mentioned in that book” (5.631). This can be

read as isolating the subject by identifying it with the parts of my body which obey my will. I

think, however, that Wittgenstein’s point here is that if I came to the world from somewhere

outside it, I would have to include in my report of the world the phenomenon that parts of my

world, to measure things.”11 This presents a concept of experience andits limits which is bound up with the advent of the subject. Experience isjudgmental by its very nature, that is, it requires a subject’s involvementto make it manifest, and that subject is to be thought of as exercisingjudgment (not as being determined by pre-existing sense). Judgmentmust be taken in the most radical way. The emphasis is on the need foran encounter to create experience (whereas mere facts need no recog-nition).

That appropriation is involved in having a world implies that there isalways the possibility of loss. Loss of world is itself a dimension of theworld as well as of the subject. As always in the Tractatus, this possibilityshould not be elaborated psychologically but as a dimension proper tolanguage, to the subject that inhabits language. Where is that dimen-sion manifested in the clearest way? What is the symptom in languagethat allows us to recognize such negativity and its significance in thefullest way? Logical negation, which always produces a division of real-ity into two sides, cannot provide the required understanding of therelation of limit and negativity. But what is negativity beyond logicalnegation?

Wittgenstein raises this issue of limits and negativity in the preface ofthe Tractatus:

Thus the aim of the book is to draw a limit to thought, or rather—not to thought but to the expression of thoughts: for in order to be ableto draw a limit to thought, we should have to find both sides of thelimit thinkable (i.e. we should have to be able to think what cannot bethought).

It will therefore only be in language that the limit can be drawn, andwhat lies on the other side of the limit will simply be non-sense.

What is particularly significant in this statement is the claim that bothsense and nonsense belong to language. It could be argued that whenWittgenstein speaks of nonsense as belonging to language, he uses a thinconception of language associated merely with the presence of linguis-tic signs arranged according to superficially correct syntax. Were we to

Subject and World 121

body obey my will. But this would make them part of the report and not matters of special sig-

nificance. From that vantage point my body will find its place among things, and this would

therefore show that in an important sense there is no subject.

11. NB, p. 82.

take the full-blown view of language as signs that express a sense, thenclearly nonsense would not be part of language. This is undeniable, it iseven tautological. Clearly nonsense is not some kind of content of lan-guage. But this is not to say that the empty manipulation of signs is notrelated to the level of sense. This issue is analogous to Wittgenstein’sstatement that tautologies and contradictions belong to language, forthey also constitute a case where the syntax allows for constructions thatdefeat their own attempt to make sense and result in senselessness. Inthe case of nonsense, we might say that the very demand made on youby significant communication is connected internally with the possibil-ity of nonsense.

122 Signs of Sense

Signs of Sense Ethics in Language

9

Ethics in Language

I have claimed that the motto of Wittgenstein’s Tractatus—“. . . andwhatever a man knows, whatever is not mere rumbling and roaring thathe has heard, can be said in three words”—is intended to convey theinfinite difficulty of expressing the ethical point of the book. The infinitedifficulty of expression is the other side of the utter simplicity of thetruth it aims to convey. Simplicity is not the opposite of complexity, buta sign of otherness or transcendence. This means that the truth to be ex-pressed is of the order of a revelation, or at least concerns the way a reli-gious understanding of revelation translates into the order of language.Monk reports that Wittgenstein considered for the motto of his Philo-sophical Investigations one such utterly simple truth: Bishop Butler’s“Everything is what it is and not another thing.”1 This statement is al-ready quoted in the Notebooks and can serve to introduce us to the ethi-cal point of the Tractatus, for we encounter a transcribed version of it inthe propositions concerned with the issue of value.2 After opening hiselaboration of that issue with the statement that “All propositions are ofequal value” (6.4), Wittgenstein writes:

The sense of the world must lie outside the world. In the world ev-erything is as it is, and everything happens as it does happen: in it novalue exists—and if it did exist, it would have no value.

If there is any value that does have value, it must lie outside the

123

1. R. Monk, Ludwig Wittgenstein: The Duty of Genius, p. 451.

2. NB, p. 84.

whole sphere of what happens and is the case. For all that happens andis the case is accidental.

What makes it non-accidental cannot lie within the world, since if itdid it would itself be accidental.

It must lie outside the world. (6.41)

There is something odd about the writing here; it sounds empty andrepetitive. Not only is the claim “everything is as it is, and everythinghappens as it does happen” empty, tautological, but it is followed by animplied wish to deny, despite all, this tautology: “in it no value exists—and if it did exist, it would have no value.” We may interpret the writingas recreating the urge to find, in fact, absolute significance, combinedwith the sense of the utter futility of such a quest. The writing expressesthe feeling that even if we were to receive what we wished for, it wouldturn out to be something that would fail to satisfy our original desire. Itis as if, precisely at the limit where what one says is empty and tautologi-cal, the dissonant urge itself came to the fore, beyond content. What is itthat makes our desire so out of joint with its aim? What is the real sourceof this problematic condition of desire?

“Ethics is transcendental” (6.421). Ethics is essentially concernedwith what is higher. If something had value, it would stand out, be sig-nificant in itself. Value is the transcendence beyond the level of theequal, which is why Wittgenstein starts from the claim: “All proposi-tions are of equal value” (6.4). As is now clear, this means that they areequally valueless, or valueless because equal, and indeed follows fromthe understanding that a proposition always exists as one amongst manypossibilities in the same space. It is always contingent, that is, it repre-sents a fact against the background of equally possible alternatives. Itcannot therefore be intrinsically higher or significant. It is impossible tostate something that is nonaccidental: “So too it is impossible for thereto be propositions of ethics. Propositions can express nothing that ishigher” (6.42).

One could therefore say that when something is of value, it presentsitself to be other, or higher, than it is in fact. This is why Bishop Butler’sstatement expresses a fundamental tension for ethics: how in a worldgoverned by such a principle is ethics possible at all? This question issurely applicable to the world called forth at the opening of the Trac-tatus, the world that is the totality of facts. That the very possibility ofquestioning the starting point arises here indicates that the ethical mo-

124 Signs of Sense

ment will involve a profound shift of perspective. It prefigures the end ofthe book, when all that has been said will be revoked.

Wittgenstein contrasts the ethical with what can be said, but this doesnot mean that ethics is not manifested in and through language, or thatthere is no condition of language that manifests the ethical, but simplythat no propositional content could express it. The making of sense thatis described in the activity of picturing has nothing to do with transcen-dence. Yet Wittgenstein does relate the question of transcendence to thequestion of sense, as when he writes, “To believe in a God means to un-derstand the question about the meaning (Sinn) of life.”3 So what is thatsense that cannot be given a propositional content?

In the Introduction I mentioned that in “A Lecture on Ethics” Witt-genstein illustrates this condition of the valuelesness of facts by meansof the figure of an omniscient being who writes a book containing acomplete description of the world:

What I want to say is, that this book would contain nothing that wewould call an ethical judgment or anything that would logically implysuch a judgment . . . all the facts described would, as it were, stand onthe same level and in the same way all propositions stand on the samelevel. There are no propositions which, in any absolute sense, are sub-lime, important, or trivial. Now perhaps some of you will agree to thatand be reminded of Hamlet’s words: “Nothing is either good or bad,but thinking makes it so.” But this again could lead to a misunder-standing. What Hamlet says seems to imply that good and bad, thoughnot qualities of the world outside us, are attributes to our states ofmind. But what I mean is that a state of mind, so far as we mean by thata fact which we can describe, is in no ethical sense good or bad. If forinstance in our world book we read the description of a murder withall its details physical and psychological, the mere description of thesefacts will contain nothing which we could call an ethical proposition.The murder will be on exactly the same level as any other event, for in-stance the falling of a stone. Certainly the reading of this descriptionmight cause us pain or rage or any other emotion, or we might readabout the pain or rage caused by this murder in other people whenthey heard of it, but there will simply be facts, facts and facts but noEthics.4

Ethics in Language 125

3. NB, p. 74.

4. LE, pp. 6–7.

My first reason for quoting this passage at length is to counter from theoutset the argument that Wittgenstein establishes a distinction, so popu-lar among his logical-positivist followers, between factual statementsand the expression of emotions, and views the latter as constituting theactual essence of ethical statements.5 Emotional states, insofar as theyare described as psychological states of mind, exist exactly at the samelevel as facts in the external world. This does not mean that the ethicaldoes not have an affective dimension; indeed, I will show that affects areessential to it. But such affects cannot be separated from the dimensionsof language as such. They are tied to the assumption of the limits of lan-guage, to our being in language.

Secondly, the great book of facts, as I called it, reveals the contrast be-tween the perspective of facts and the mode in which we exist in a mean-ingful environment—in a world. Meaningfulness is a dimension of ourvery existence in language, not something external to it. It is not a sub-jective or psychological phenomenon. My interpretation of Wittgen-stein’s account of meaningfulness is intended to provide a way of think-ing about the significance of things apart from propositional content,that is, apart from the factuality of what can be said. Such significanceshould not be thought of in terms of the miraculous, the outstanding,or the extraordinary. The miraculous is an event that in itself has abso-lute significance, that stands absolutely higher than anything else. Sig-nificance, for Wittgenstein, is ordinary experience presenting a face ofmeaningfulness. “As a thing among things, each thing is equally insig-nificant, as a world, each one equally significant.”6 This statement im-plies that a certain sense of equality appears in a condition of sig-nificance as well as insignificance. The equality of insignificance is of theone amongst the many; the equality of significance is of that whichforms a whole, a world. Significance is correlative with the concept ofworld. Hence there is no thing that is significant amongst a plurality ofinsignificant things. Whereas the sensicality of a proposition is always amatter of fact, significance makes a world of difference. It is not one part

126 Signs of Sense

5. “The supposititious sentences of metaphysics, of the philosophy of values, of ethics (in

so far as it is treated as a normative discipline and not as a psycho-sociological investigation of

facts) are pseudo-sentences; they have no logical content, but are only expressions of feeling

which in turn stimulate feelings and volitional tendencies on the part of the hearer.” R. Carnap,

The Logical Syntax of Language, p. 278.

6. NB, p. 83.

of the world that has of itself absolute value in itself or is the groundfor significance as such. It is, rather, the world as a whole that is illu-mined with significance, that waxes and wanes for us. That kind of sig-nificance, associated with having a world, is never partial, which is whyit seems at times so remote, so inaccessible.

This account of the fundamental dimension of value relates to the ac-count of the subject I have so far elaborated. The subject is associatedwith the assuming of possibilities. It is not to be identified with some ob-ject in the world, but always with possibilities of existence revealed inlanguage. This does not mean that to be a subject is only to be an au-thentic subject who has assumed the limits of language, but rather, thatto be a subject is essentially to assume one’s utmost possibilities or toavoid them; the subject is essentially happy or unhappy.7

While the acknowledgment of meaning is the fundamental normativedimension of existence, the fundamental relation to value, it still needsto be related to our understanding of morality, in particular to conceptssuch as action, will, law, reward, and punishment. Wittgenstein offers anelaboration of such relations at 6.422:

When an ethical law of the form, ‘Thou shalt . . .’, is laid down, one’sfirst thought is, ‘And what if I do not do it?’ It is clear, however, thatethics has nothing to do with punishment and reward in the usualsense of the terms. So our question about the consequences of an actionmust be unimportant.—At least those consequences should not beevents. For there must be something right about the question weposed. There must indeed be some kind of ethical reward and ethicalpunishment, but they must reside in the action itself.

(And it is also clear that the reward must be something pleasant andthe punishment something unpleasant.) (6.422)

This proposition relates to various traditional positions in ethics. Itclearly rejects any simple consequentialist position that would under-stand the rightness of an act in terms of the goodness of its conse-quences. To understand the ethical will in terms of consequences re-

Ethics in Language 127

7. This association of the subject with the appropriation or avoidance of possibilities of ex-

istence shows the affinity between Wittgenstein’s and Heidegger’s thinking. The latter writes:

“In being-ahead-of-oneself as the being toward one’s ownmost potentiality-of-being lies the ex-

istential and ontological condition of the possibility of being free for authentic existentiell pos-

sibilities. It is the potentiality-for-being for the sake of which Dasein always is as it factically is.”

Being and Time, p. 180.

quires a logical connection between the ethical will and what it caneffect in the world. Wittgenstein emphatically denies such a connectionto events or facts:

The world is independent of my will. (6.373)

Even if all that we wish for were to happen, still this would only be afavor granted by fate, so to speak: for there is no logical connection be-tween the will and the world, which would guarantee it, and the sup-posed physical connection itself is surely not something that we couldwill. (6.374)

We could view the will as a kind of psychological cause and thus calcu-late its effects as part of a general law, but this would be of no interest toethics:

It is impossible to speak about the will insofar as it is the subject ofethical attributes.

And the will as a phenomenon is of interest only to psychology.(6.423)

This approach, which denies any necessary connection between the willand what it effects in the world and sees the will as finding reward in thevery action rather than its consequences, may tempt us to read Wittgen-stein’s ethics as Kantian in its outlines, as grounding the ethical in thepower of an unconditional law of self-determination. But this readingseems doubtful, if only because the very concept of an unconditionallaw is problematic for Wittgenstein, as shown by his understanding ofthe necessity of logic and its relation to the concept of law.

Wittgenstein stresses that “Just as the only necessity that exists is logi-cal necessity, so too the only impossibility that exists is logical impossi-bility” (6.375). Given his view of the nature of logic, this means that allnecessity is conditional, that is, it derives from the very structure of therealm of representation. There is no contentful necessity; all necessityderives from the recognition of structural relations in the sphere of rep-resentation:

The propositions of logic describe the scaffolding of the world, orrather they represent it. They have no ‘subject-matter’. They presup-pose that names have meaning and elementary propositions sense; andthat is their connection with the world. It is clear that something about

128 Signs of Sense

the world must be indicated by the fact that certain combinations ofsymbols—whose essence involves the possession of a determinatecharacter—are tautologies. This contains the decisive point. We havesaid that some things are arbitrary in the symbols that we use and thatsome things are not. In logic it is only the latter that express: but thatmeans that logic is not a field in which we express what we wish withthe help of signs, but rather one in which the nature of the absolutelynecessary signs speaks for itself. If we know the logical syntax of anysign-language, then we have already been given all the propositions oflogic. (6.124)

Necessity, then, must be reduced to an understanding of how the natureof the absolutely necessary signs speaks for itself. But this necessity doesnot lie in things. Logic, for Wittgenstein, is not a ground.8 In denyingthat there are logical laws, Wittgenstein is claiming that logical necessityis always conditional. Conditionality means here that the necessary rela-tions between propositions derive from the form of our means of repre-senting reality. One could argue that since these are the only means ofrepresentation we have, there is no sense in saying that necessity is con-ditioned by our modes of representation. But I would reply that theTractatus aims to turn us to the recognition of meaning in the objectapart from the form imposed on facts by our means of representation.

Ethics in Language 129

8. It is fruitful in this connection to think of Wittgenstein’s understanding of logic in rela-

tion to Schopenhauer’s treatment of the principle of sufficient reason as expressed in the fol-

lowing statement: “The principle of sufficient reason in all its forms is the sole principle and

sole support of all necessity. For necessity has no true and clear meaning except that of the in-

evitability of the consequent with the positing of the ground. Accordingly, every necessity is

conditioned; absolute or unconditioned necessity is therefore a contradictio in adjecto. For to be

necessary can never mean anything but to follow from a given ground.” On the Fourfold Root of

the Principle of Sufficient Reason, p. 225. On the surface, Wittgenstein disagrees with this assess-

ment when he claims: “Just as the only necessity that exists is logical necessity, so too the only

impossibility that exists is logical impossibility” (6.375). The principle of sufficient reason it-

self seems to be relegated to a secondary status: “Laws like the principle of sufficient reason,

etc. are about the net and not about what the net describes” (6.35). But I think that we can go

beyond this apparent disagreement. Wittgenstein might indeed think of the principle of suf-

ficient reason as having no privileged status when he thinks of it, say, as the principle that there

is causality in nature. But at a deeper level there is a clear parallel between his understanding of

logic and Schopenhauer’s claim that all necessity is only conditional necessity. Indeed, for

Schopenhauer the principle of sufficient reason is the determining principle of the very realm

of representation. In that sense it functions precisely in the way that logic does for Wittgen-

stein.

This in no way means going beyond language, but recognizing throughlanguage the forms of the objects that constitute our world.

In Chapter 1, in my account of the opening intuition of the Tractatus,I claimed that one can be turned to the world apart from logic. That in-tuition has gone through many refinements, in particular by identifyinglogic with the form of our representation of the world, the form of ourmaking sense. But as I have argued, we can also recognize, through ourmaking sense, a meaning that is not ours to make, that is not structuredby our modes of representation. It is in that sense that logic must not bethought of as a ground; its necessity does not determine the form ofwhat there is.

Insofar as logic is the condition for making sense, it can be called tran-scendental (6.13). But logic is not itself a contentful ground or founda-tion. Logic is what makes thinking in terms of grounds possible at all.Thinking in terms of grounds means thinking as it is tied to justification,to the very idea of lawfulness. The scope of the logical thus includesall that is lawful: “The exploration of logic means the exploration of ev-erything that is subject to law. And outside logic everything is acciden-tal” (6.3).

Wittgenstein elaborates this understanding of necessity by consider-ing the proper way to explain the necessity that is deemed to character-ize science.

We do not have an a priori belief in a law of conservation, but rathera priori knowledge of the possibility of a logical form. (6.33)

All such propositions, including the principle of sufficient reason,the laws of continuity in nature and of least effort in nature, etc. etc.—all these are a priori insights about the forms in which the propositionsof science can be cast. (6.34)

Mechanics is an attempt to construct according to a single plan allthe true propositions that we need for the description of the world.(6.343)

Wittgenstein emphasizes that confusion can arise from treating suchinsights into forms of descriptions (which we choose) as providing sub-stantive explanations for the necessity of our world’s being what it is.This illusion is typical of what Wittgenstein calls the modern conceptionof the world:

130 Signs of Sense

The whole modern conception of the world is founded (zugrunde)on the illusion that the so-called laws of nature are the explanations ofnatural phenomena. (6.371)

Thus people today stop at the laws of nature, treating them as some-thing inviolable, just as God and Fate were treated in past ages.

And in fact both are right and both are wrong: Though the view ofthe ancients is clearer in so far as they have a clear and acknowledgedterminus, while the modern system tries to make it look as if everythingwere explained. (6.372)

Challenging the modern conception of the world opens us up to theworld beyond justification and ground. Nonetheless, despite his criti-cism of the modern world view, Wittgenstein claims that in a certainsense both the ancient and the modern views are right. The latter iswrong in the assumption that everything demands a ground and has aground in the laws of nature, but it is right insofar as it does not positanything beyond these laws that may serve as a further, deeper ground.There is no ground beyond science, but there is a possibility of appre-hending the world apart from thinking in terms of grounds, thus beyondlogic and the conditions of lawfulness. There is a possibility of relatingto experience beyond lawfulness, to open to it in another way.

We can now see how problematic it would be to attribute to Wittgen-stein a Kantian conception of ethics. For Kant’s categorical imperativeexpresses a connection between law and the unconditioned, whereasWittgenstein denies the very meaningfulness of the concept of uncondi-tional law. We are, then, faced with a peculiar problem. Wittgenstein re-jects any empirical or psychological underpinning of ethics. He insistson retaining the absoluteness or transcendence associated with the ethi-cal. But he also rejects the idea of a categorical imperative, at least in thesense of a law from which one can derive all ethical obligations. To clar-ify his position we must try to elaborate further the position of the ethi-cal subject with respect to language.

Wittgenstein’s account aims in the first place at shifting the position ofthe ethical will with respect to representation. In general, our concep-tion of willing depends on the priority of representation, first laying outpossibilities and then determining oneself to act through the choice ofone such possibility. Wittgenstein’s challenge to the conception of thethinking subject will also involve a drastic repudiation of any view of thewilling subject that depends on the priority of representation—and, in

Ethics in Language 131

particular, of the conception of the will as a capacity to choose a courseof action after representing to itself a range of possibilities—and the as-sociated view of free will as liberum arbitrium indiferentiae.9

Wittgenstein denies that the freedom of the will is to be thought of asa possibility of determining oneself to choose one way rather than an-other. The future is essentially unknown:

We cannot infer the events of the future from those of the present.Superstition is nothing but the belief in the causal nexus. (5.1361)

The freedom of the will consists in the impossibility of knowing ac-tions that still lie in the future. We could know them only if causalitywere an inner necessity like that of logical inference. (5.1362)

Wittgenstein does not say that the freedom of the will is an illusion thatderives from our lack of knowledge of the future. Since the future is notin the space of possible knowledge for us, it is not the object of justifiedchoice. But this does not mean that he is advocating causal determinism;indeed, he identifies the belief in a causal determination with supersti-tion. Moreover, by claiming that future actions are essentially unknown,he is not expressing skepticism concerning the laws of nature. He ac-knowledges the regularity expressed by a law of nature. Yet there is a fur-ther dimension of our relation to the world, and it is in its light that wemust think of the freedom of the will. From that perspective, what lies inthe future is meaning insofar as I have to take it upon myself. The prob-lem of knowledge about the future lies in the radical independence ofthat sphere of meaning. Thus the problem of the ethical will lies in thenecessity of appropriating meaning, of judging, of making the worldmine.

Wittgenstein addresses the problem of the independence of future

132 Signs of Sense

9. For Schopenhauer the realization of the ethical dimension requires going beyond the

sphere of representation. The problematic understanding of willing is that which is subor-

dinated to representation. Schopenhauer links the issue of representation and the incorrect

conception of will as follows: “The maintenance of an empirical freedom of will, a liberum

arbitrium indifferentiae, is very closely connected with the assertion that places man’s inner na-

ture in a soul that is originally a knowing, indeed really an abstract thinking entity, and only in

consequence thereof a willing entity” (The World as Will and Representation, vol. 1, p. 292); and

further, “the decision of one’s own will is undetermined only for the spectator, one’s own intel-

lect, and therefore only relatively and subjectively, namely for the subject of knowing.” Ibid.,

p. 291.

events in the context of asserting the independence of elementary prop-ositions. What is at stake is entering into an order of significance closedupon itself.10 Exercising the ethical will involves entering into a world.Only insofar as the future is not in a space of knowledge is it possible tospeak of the assumption of meaning, the entry into a sphere of sig-nificance. Willing is conceived through the very entering into a space ofsignificance that structures one’s deeds. The opening of possibilities ofbeing is the fundamental act of will; it is the basis of all normativity andof actions undertaken in that sphere of meaning. One might say, then,that the primary ethical dimension has to do with inhabiting language,with acknowledging its conditions, with opening the space for action.

The fundamental ethical act is the act of assuming significance, themanifestation of the subject through the sphere of significance, its possi-bilities and its demands. The correlate of that act, in respect of the sub-ject, is the world rather than a particular fact in the world.

If the good or bad exercise of the will does alter the world, it canonly alter the limits of the world, not the facts—not what can be ex-pressed by means of language.

In short the effect must be that it becomes an altogether differentworld. It must, so to speak, wax and wane as a whole.

The world of the happy man is a different one from that of the un-happy man. (6.43)

From the perspective of the opening of the Tractatus, in which the worldis characterized as the totality of facts, it is hard to see how the limits ofthe world could be altered without altering the facts. But here we mustshift away from that picture of our relation to the world. The exercise ofthe will (not necessarily what we would think of as any specific act ofwill) coincides with the complete alteration of the world involved in en-tering a sphere of meaningfulness, and Wittgenstein also associates thisalteration with an affective change. This affective dimension must be un-

Ethics in Language 133

10. In thinking of the ethical in terms of the assumption of significance or meaning, it is

imperative not to revert to a contemplative understanding of meaningfulness. As I emphasized,

the assumption of meaning has to be considered at the level of language as part of the human

organism, that is, as a sphere of action and life. There is no prior understanding of the structure

of language followed by a decision to act upon such a representation. This order of things

would necessarily assume that a representation of a purpose or a content is prior to the act of

willing; it would make the act of willing something ‘sayable.’ This problematic model of the will

can only be avoided if meaning appears in coordination with action.

derstood in relation to the existence of the subject in language, or in theworld, rather than psychologically. It is in this light that I understandWittgenstein’s parenthetical remark “Ethics and aesthetics are one andthe same” (6.421). I do not think that Wittgenstein recommends an aes-thetic detachment as a true ethical standpoint; rather, he claims that thesource or origin of those realms is one. Indeed, he does not say that eth-ics and aesthetics are “identical” but speaks of them as being one (sindEins). Their common source can be understood by adding language tothem. Affects can have a fundamental place in ethics if we understandtheir internal connection to such concepts as language, subject, andworld. The feeling Wittgenstein speaks of, that of the happy man and hishappy world, is the feeling that accompanies the accession to meaning.It is not a phenomenon distinct from language but an affect pertaining tobeing in language. In the early version of 6.43, in Wittgenstein’s Note-books, this relation between feeling, world, and sense is very clear: “Theworld must so to speak wax and wane as a whole. As if by accession orloss of sense [Sinnes]”.11 The appearance of affect is crucial to the earlierdiscussion of the reward associated with the ethical act, for such plea-sure can be spoken of as pertaining to the ethical only if it is associatedwith being in a meaningful world. This pleasure is not in any sense thekind that derives from the satisfaction of desire by some state of affairsor other.

I want to call this affect a ‘mood’ because of its association with theworld rather than with any particular thing. A mood is different fromwhat we ordinarily call a feeling. It is not reducible to a psychologicalevent taking place inside an individual, a subjective state. Nor is it nec-essarily attached to the causal influence of a particular thing. A moodcan come from nowhere in particular, can pervade the world. It is not afilter through which we color the world, but rather something that in-vades us.

Hence Wittgenstein’s assertion that the world of the happy man is ahappy world challenges our ordinary way of thinking about feeling. Themood is correlative to the world as such. It reveals the subject’s intimacywith the world, or the emergence of the subject from the world. The pos-sibility of moods is the possibility of claiming “I am my world.” Being at-tuned to the emergence of meaning can thus be described as the condi-tion in which the world puts us in a happy mood.

134 Signs of Sense

11. NB, p. 73, my emphasis.

The alteration of the world and the affective dimension associatedwith the assumption of limits must be distinguished from another expe-rience, which Wittgenstein calls the world coming to an end. Those arenot independent matters but are internally related. One could think ofthe relation between the meaningful appearance of a world and theworld coming to an end as two sides of the limit. This requires an expla-nation. I have claimed that conceiving of the limit through the object al-lows us to avoid the difficulty posed by formulating the limit by meansof an assertion, something that falls within the province of logic. Sinceany such formulation will have a negation that is sensical and thereforepossible, it could not function as a genuine limit. The negation would lieon the other side of the limit, where there can be nothing. The form ofthe object, on the other hand, includes all possibilities, and can thusprovide a limit that truly determines what there is without positingsomething beyond it.

Yet we must not assume that because there is nothing on the otherside of the limit—because the limit is, as it were, one-sided—that noth-ingness has no power over our relation to what there is. It is precisely forthe purpose of elaborating the force of that negativity or nothingnessthat Wittgenstein introduces the notion of the coming to an end of theworld.12 In order to begin with the elaboration of this other experience,or this other face of experience, of the absolute limit of the possible,Wittgenstein provides a parallel with the limit of life: death.

So too at death the world does not alter, but comes to an end.(6.431)

Death is not an event in life; we do not live to experience death.If we take eternity to mean not infinite temporal duration but time-

lessness, then eternal life belongs to those who live in the present.Our life has no end in just the way in which our visual field has no

limits. (6.4311)

Just as Wittgenstein’s earlier claim that “The world and life are one” es-tablished the connection between language and life, so too his thinkingabout mortality concerns dimensions that pertain to language.

Ethics in Language 135

12. This formulation is intended to evoke the famous encounter between Carnap and

Heidegger concerning the force of the nothing, or whether it means anything to assert that the

nothing nothings. Later on I suggest what position Wittgenstein might have taken in this en-

counter by considering his remark on Heidegger in his discussions with members of the Vienna

Circle.

In what sense does the nature of our relation to the absolute limit assuch, to death, determine our relation to what there is? Is that relationitself formative of life, of experience? If we read Wittgenstein’s assertionthat death is not an event in life to mean that there is no sense in speak-ing of the relation to death as structuring the events of life, then deathwould be wholly external to life.

But suppose Wittgenstein wants to explain the limit of that totalitywhich is the world by reference to my relation to my death. I haveclaimed earlier that the notion of world is tied essentially to the way inwhich a subject is made manifest by appropriating meaning. Such ap-propriation of meaning is an existential determination tying subject andworld. Thus the notion of world cannot be understood as a contentfulconcept. On the basis of the analogy between our relation to life as awhole and our relation to the world as a whole, we should then say thatthere is no concept of completeness or human flourishing or virtue thatdetermines the proper relation to life as a whole. Or to put it differently,death is the only form of completion of human life. Thus no precon-ceived meaning or goal can direct a person in relation to life as a whole.

With death, the possibilities that formed my world do not alter butcome to an end. Such possibilities are mine and do not survive mydeath. Possibilities are essentially dependent on my taking languageupon myself; they are always fraught with the possibility that nothingmay happen any more. The possible is to be understood not as an objec-tive space external to the subject, but as something which always con-tains within its horizon the possibility that nothing be possible, that ofmy death. In this case, the possibility of having possibilities, of having aworld, is internally related to the possibility of losing a world.

Moreover, the awareness of that ultimate possibility of human life isthe awareness of life as essentially enigmatic or as always demandingmeaning. This awareness colors life with a sense of incompleteness, oran essential lack.

Thus we can say that it is this awareness of the limit that turns us ontolife as something that demands meaning, something that could be calleda riddle. This is what drives us to recover meaning, to find significance.Thinking of death as the limit of life is thus intrinsically tied to the enig-matic nature of life or experience and to the assumption of meaning.This is elaborated in Wittgenstein’s criticism of the futility of resorting tothe idea of the immortality of the soul:

136 Signs of Sense

Not only is there no guarantee of the temporal immortality of thehuman soul, that is to say of its eternal survival after death; but, in anycase, this assumption completely fails to accomplish the purpose forwhich it has always been intended. Or is some riddle solved by my sur-viving for ever? Is not this eternal life itself as much of a riddle as ourpresent life? The solution of the riddle of life in space and time lies out-side space and time. (6.4312)

Insofar as a certain sense of limitation colors experience with incom-pleteness, thus presenting it as a riddle, then merely thinking of the con-tinuation of the existence of the soul as it is solves nothing.

The problem with the conception of the immortality of the soul is thatit takes death to be completely external to meaningful life and thus inprinciple eliminable for the human soul, if not for the body. This denialof the condition of finitude fails to solve the problem; it does not accom-plish its purpose. But as we saw above, Wittgenstein draws a further dis-tinction between infinite temporal duration and timelessness which pro-vides another way of facing that condition:

If we take eternity to mean not infinite temporal duration but time-lessness, then eternal life belongs to those who live in the present.(6.4311)

‘Living in the present’ expresses Wittgenstein’s sense of what it means toalter the limits of the world. It is to have present the conditions in whichone’s living takes place, to be in an environment of meaning. It is the as-sumption of the form of experience that faces the threat of possibilitiescoming to an end. This forms the internal connection between the con-cept of the world’s coming to an end and that of the alteration of theworld.

The condition of grace or happiness which Wittgenstein also de-scribes as living in the present is not a matter of intuition or a wordlessfeeling of being one with the world. It must be understood in terms ofWittgenstein’s acceptance of everyday language as the true locus of suchpresentness or grace. Everyday language is language that is significant initself, as the site of sense and meaningfulness. This prefigures Wittgen-stein’s claim that

The solution of the problem of life is seen in the vanishing of theproblem.

Ethics in Language 137

(Is not this the reason why those who have found after a long periodof doubt that the sense of life became clear to them have then been un-able to say what constituted that sense?). (6.521)

We are now able to understand why it is that, in claiming that everydaylanguage is in perfect logical order, Wittgenstein introduces for the firsttime a note of urgency or an ethical dimension into his discourse: “Ourproblems are not abstract, but perhaps the most concrete that there are.”

The very possibility of entering a significant world thus depends onthe experience of limitation as such. There is an inner connection be-tween the alteration of the limits of the world that constitutes the condi-tion of presence and the experience of the absolute limits of life. Just asthe feeling of presence was interpreted as the assumption of language,the description of the experience of absolute limits, at the subjective-ex-istential level, has an ontological-linguistic correlate. There is anotherexperience, or another aspect to the experience of significance elabo-rated in the Tractatus, which may be called the religious side of the ethi-cal, or in Wittgenstein’s words, the mystical. This is what Wittgensteincalls “feeling the world as a limited whole.”

To view the world sub specie aeterni is to view it as a whole—a lim-ited whole.

Feeling the world as a limited whole—it is this that is mystical.(6.45)

Viewing the world as a limited whole at first evokes the image of beingable to stand, as it were, outside the world and survey it as a whole. Thisimage could be related to the opening of the Tractatus, which creates thesense that we have all facts laid out in front of us. But is that what Witt-genstein means? By adding the qualification “limited” to the idea ofviewing the world as a whole, is he merely reiterating that everything isto be taken together, or is he addressing the perspective of the finite,thus reconceiving the metaphysico-religious idea of the world seen “subspecie aeterni”? Does limitation emphasize here the qualification of to-tality or of partiality? Or does it show a way of thinking them together,that is, of thinking ‘beings as a whole’ from the perspective of the finite?

Wittgenstein’s previous discussion of the relation between limits anddeath essentially connected the concept of limitation with that offinitude. At proposition 6.45, the sense of limitation as finitude is fur-

138 Signs of Sense

ther emphasized by the shift from viewing to feeling. ‘Anschaung’, whichis translated here as ‘viewing’, also has connotations, at least since Kant,of intuition, thus of what is given or what gives itself. Playing on thatdouble meaning makes clear the shift from the activity of viewing to thepassivity of feeling. Associating the sense of the world with feeling re-moves Wittgenstein even further from the classical metaphysician andhis way of conceptualizing the world as a whole. This is also a shift inthe place of the subject: to view something as a whole does indeed de-mand an external perspective on the thing viewed, the object being pres-ent to you, while to feel limits emphasizes the limitation you will experi-ence in relation to the world as a whole.13 It expresses the sense oflimitation that the world places on you when you are in the midst ofthings. This is a different feeling from the feeling of the happy world,which Wittgenstein mentions in 6.43. As I argued, there is an inner con-nection between these two types of affects, for the possibility of a sig-nificant world depends on the experience of the world as a limitedwhole.14

Wittgenstein’s thinking on ethics is essentially religious. Its centralconcern is that of transcendence. In “Culture and Value” he remarks:“What is good is also divine. Queer as it sounds, that sums up my eth-ics. Only something supernatural can express the Supernatural.”15 Inthe Tractatus the connection between ethics and religion must be seenthrough the relation of the experience of the appearance of the form of asignificant world and the ‘experience’ of the very existence of a sig-nificant world. It is this last experience that Wittgenstein calls mystical:“It is not how things are in the world that is mystical, but that it exists”(6.44). To feel the world as a limited whole is to be affected by the veryexistence of the world—that there is a world rather than nothing. It is inthis sense that limitation pertains not just to the position of the subjectin the world but also to the world as a whole. There is that which makes

Ethics in Language 139

13. Feeling does not preclude being in the midst of things, experiencing the whole that sur-

rounds us. But in this case limitation is then no longer taken in the spatial visual sense, as con-

tours or borderlines of the world, but rather in the sense that the whole that one is part of is it-

self finite. To think of the world as finite is to think that there is a difference between Being and

beings. We can then say that there is a sense in which we can conceive of the emergence of be-

ings, that is, of creation.

14. They are related in the way that the beautiful can be said to be related to the sublime.

15. CV, p. 3.

itself manifest beyond beings, but this excess of being can only be char-acterized through the feeling of the existence of the world as such, not inrelation to something or other. The limitation of the world as such canthen be thought of as the ‘gap’ between beings and world. What is in ex-cess to what there is can only be thought of as the very existence of theworld.

The original experience of the very possibility of a significant world ischaracterized in Wittgenstein’s “Lecture on Ethics” in terms of the senseof wonder at the very existence of the world, or alternatively, at the veryexistence of language:

I will now describe the experience of wondering at the existence of theworld by saying: It is the experience of seeing the world as a miracle.Now I am tempted to say that the right expression in language for themiracle of the existence of the world, though it is not a proposition inlanguage, is the existence of language itself.16

The source of significance, the transcendence involved in significance assuch, can be related to the concept of a miracle. But this is not a miraclethat occurs at one time in a particular place in the world. There is noburning bush. Rather, the only sense that can be given to this miracu-lousness is related to the existence of significance altogether. The exis-tence of a meaningful world, or, what comes to the same, the existenceof language as such, is to be considered a miracle. It is in this sensethat the Tractatus can be regarded as dealing with creation itself. Forwhen it comes to this dimension, one does not feel the happiness associ-ated with the recognition of what things are, with the showing of sig-nificance, but rather one’s experience concerns the very existence of asignificant world rather than nothing.

But how do we become aware of the existence of language, in lan-guage? What does the existence of significance contrast with? In con-trast to what does the world appear as a limited whole? One could saythat the world exists in contrast to chaos or, speaking in terms of lan-guage, that it exists in contrast to nonsense.

Let us return to the relation formed between life as a whole coming toan end and the awareness of the world as a whole. I have claimed thatthe awareness of limitation reveals a movement of avoidance, of flight

140 Signs of Sense

16. LE, p. 11.

from this inner limitation. The limits of language, or of the world, arenot merely inert borderlines but are essentially where the movement ofavoidance and recovery takes place. This movement of avoidance is atthe very heart of the ethical; it is a fundamental drive. In relation to lan-guage as such it is the destruction of the conditions of meaningfulness,the drive to nonsense. It is against that background of chaos in languagethat we can think of the revelation of the very existence of language or ofsignificance.

Thus the ultimate expression of the ethical demands thoughtfulnessin relation to the appearance of nonsense. The showing of what there iswas interpreted through the assumption of ordinary conditions of mean-ing, but the feeling of the existence of language will manifest itself onlythrough the destruction of the condition of meaningfulness, in the driveto nonsense. How is nonsense linked to the expression of the ethical?

When language attempts to express the absolute ground of evaluation(the possibility of the absolute elevation of something above facts)—when it attempts to claim that something is infinitely more worthythan it is in fact—it attempts to say something that absolutely escapessignification. This kind of speech will always miss the mark, for it con-stitutes a vain attempt to present the transcendence of absolute valueby means of something that can be said, a fact. Presenting somethingthrough the appearance of something else is one way of characterizingwhat a metaphor or simile is. In his “Lecture on Ethics” Wittgenstein di-agnoses our ethical language as inherently tending to the simile. Our un-derstanding of the ethical provides us with an account of the generationof similes (call them pictures) and at the same time explains that there isnothing behind them.

A figure can be viewed at the most basic level as a translation from onespace to another. But what ethical language manifests is a movement oftranslation to which no literal meaning would correspond. The similesused are essentially empty. Recognizing that fact brings translation ormovement as such to the fore.

Thus in ethical and religious language we seem constantly to be usingsimiles. But a simile must be the simile for something. And if I can de-scribe a fact by mean of a simile I must be able to drop the simile and todescribe the facts without it. Now in our case as soon as we try to dropthe simile and simply to state the facts which stand behind it, we find

Ethics in Language 141

that there are no such facts. And so, what at first appeared to be a sim-ile now seems to be mere nonsense.17

The effort to generate replacements in the attempt to hold on to somefigure of meaning is what Wittgenstein thinks of as the generation ofnonsense. Such nonsense reveals the intrinsically problematic positionof the human will with respect to the finding of value, what I have calledthe condition in which desire is out of joint with its object. To avoid theWittgensteinian understanding of limits as limitation would be to placesomething beyond the limits of facts, something we would feel couldnever be said directly but must be expressed by means of a simile. Sucha simile operates as a defense to hide the condition of limitation orfinitude. This is why we can be gripped by a picture or a simile (Witt-genstein will further elaborate this psychology in his later thinkingabout pictures).

There is therefore an excess in language, a generation of noise dis-guised as significant communication, in attempts to produce an absoluteevaluation. But this excess is in itself significant, for it is a sign of theethical manifesting itself wrongly. To recognize nonsense as such is to beable to acknowledge this condition instead of reacting against it, for thisis the only condition in which the very existence of language manifestsitself. This is why Wittgenstein regards such a drive to nonsense in lan-guage with the utmost seriousness and includes himself among thosemoved by such attempts:

My whole tendency, and I believe the tendency of all men who evertried to write or talk Ethics or Religion, was to run against the bound-aries of language. This running against the walls of our cage is per-fectly, absolutely hopeless. Ethics so far as it springs from the desire tosay something about the ultimate meaning of life, the absolute good,the absolute valuable, can be no science. What it says does not add toour knowledge in any sense. But it is a document of a tendency in thehuman mind which I personally cannot help respecting deeply and Iwould not for my life ridicule it.18

We can better understand Wittgenstein’s concept of the mystical by not-ing that in 6.522 Wittgenstein speak of it in terms of revelation: “There

142 Signs of Sense

17. LE, p. 10.

18. LE, pp. 11–12.

are indeed things that cannot be put into words. They make themselvesmanifest. They are what is mystical.”19

Wittgenstein’s use of the passive form, ‘Make themselves manifest’,stands in the starkest contrast with his initial description of our activityof sense-making as making pictures to ourselves. Manifestation, or reve-lation, should be distinguished from the active making of pictures, butalso from the dimension of showing.20 What this distinction implies inthe first place is that we cannot do anything to bring about the experi-ence of the mystical (as opposed to discovering an answer to a question,or actively seeking it). Of course, showing is not of something that weproduce either: we make sense, but showing is of something that is al-ready there as the horizon of form of our active engagement with things.But even showing is distinct from the passivity of manifestation. It isthrough suffering from nonsense that we can experience manifestation.We acknowledge meaning but suffer from nonsense. Manifestation andshowing form what might be called the two sides of the event of ‘cominginto presence’ of meaning. Showing and manifestation depend on eachother. The showing of experience involves the manifestation of world;the truth in language demands the truth of language. The return fromnonsense is essential to the way in which recovering the limits of experi-ence is associated with happiness.

This relation between manifestation and nonsense makes it clear thatmanifestation always involves a dimension in which the failure to sig-nify turns into a sign in itself. Therefore, strictly speaking, revelation in-volves an affect of pain or anxiety, deriving from failure, which is theaffect that is associated with the experience of limitation as such. Al-though in the Tractatus itself Wittgenstein does not speak of anxiety as arevelation of limitation as such, in his conversations with members ofthe Vienna Circle he proposes the following interpretation of Heideg-

Ethics in Language 143

19. Ogden’s translation of this passage—“There is indeed the inexpressible. This shows it-

self; it is the mystical”—conveys more accurately Wittgenstein’s use of the locution “Es gibt,”

which does not assume that some thing is revealed. The translation of Pears and McGuinness,

with its reference to things that make themselves manifest, makes the ending most problematic.

Significantly, the locution “Es gibt” will later be used systematically by Heidegger for very simi-

lar purposes.

20. In German the distinction is between ‘zeigt sich’ and ‘zeigt.’ It is important to recognize

the dimension of manifestation or revelation in what shows itself, yet it would be better to re-

tain, as Ogden does in translating “zeigt sich” by “shows itself,” the association with ‘showing.’

This reinforces the sense that what is shown is not ours to make.

ger’s understanding of anxiety with reference to the language we haveused to discuss the Tractatus:

I can readily think what Heidegger means by Being and Dread. Man hasthe impulse to run up against the limits of language. Think, for exam-ple, of the astonishment that anything exists. This astonishment can-not be expressed in the form of a question, and there is also no answerto it. Everything which we feel like saying can, a priori, only be non-sense. Nevertheless, we do run up against the limits of language. Thisrunning-up-against Kierkegaard also recognized and even designatedit in a quite similar way (as running-up-against Paradox). This run-ning-up against the limits of language is Ethics. I hold that it is trulyimportant that one put an end to all the idle talk about Ethics—whether there be knowledge, whether there be values, whether theGood can be defined, etc. In Ethics one is always making the attemptto say something that does not concern the essence of the matter andnever can concern it. It is a priori certain that whatever one might offeras a definition of the Good, it is always simply a misunderstanding tothink that it corresponds in expression to the authentic matter one ac-tually means (Moore). Yet the tendency represented by the running-up-against points to something. St. Augustine already knew this whenhe said: What, you wretch, so you want to avoid talking nonsense?Talk some nonsense, it makes no difference!21

Insofar as that anxiety appears in the Tractatus, it will be associatedwith the failure to signify, the awareness of the repeated generation ofnonsense. There will essentially be a moment of frustration or withhold-ing of satisfaction associated with this affect. That moment is indeedmentioned in proposition 6.54, which leads us to realize that philosoph-ical teaching essentially provokes dissatisfaction. Thus as we work ourway to the last propositions of the book, we are confronted with thequestion of how to attune ourselves to this manifestation. How can abook turn us toward that event? How can it be so pointed as to punctureour constant demand for meaning? Such a book demands a relation tolanguage that is more fundamental than is our being guided by estab-lished meanings. It must work its way toward the possibility of an eventthat itself exceeds the means of expression. This is the event of theTractatus.

144 Signs of Sense

21. WVC, p. 69. See E. Friedlander, “Heidegger, Carnap, Wittgenstein: Much Ado About

Nothing,” in A. Biletzky and A. Matar, eds., The Story of Analytic Philosophy.

Signs of Sense A Demanding Silence

10

A Demanding Silence

An intriguing aspect of the ending of the Tractatus is its development ofvariations on the theme of questioning and response. To bring out howinsistent is this elaboration of questioning and response, I put togetherthe various instances where Wittgenstein raises that issue:

[Or] is some riddle solved by my surviving for ever? Is not the eter-nal life itself as much of a riddle as our present life? The solution of theriddle of life in space and time lies outside space and time.

(It is certainly not the solution of any problem of natural sciencethat is required.) (6.4312)

The facts all contribute only to setting the problem, not to its solu-tion. (6.4321)

When the answer cannot be put into words, neither can the questionbe put into words.

The riddle does not existIf a question can be framed at all, it is also possible to answer it. (6.5)

Skepticism is not irrefutable, but obviously nonsensical, when it triesto raise doubts where no questions can be asked.

For doubt can exist only where a question exists, a question onlywhere an answer exists, and an answer only where something can besaid. (6.51)

We feel that even when all possible scientific questions have beenanswered, the problems of life remain completely untouched. Ofcourse there are then no questions left, and this itself is the answer.(6.52)

145

The solution of the problem of life is seen in the vanishing of theproblem.

(Is not this the reason why those who have found after a long periodof doubt that the sense of life became clear to them have then been un-able to say what constituted that sense?) (6.521)

This emphasis on the theme of question and answer is striking. Wittgen-stein uses a number of terms when raising that issue—Ratsel, Problem,Aufgabe; Losung, Frage; Antwort, Zweifel. The various terms may seem tosupport the claim that the question does not exist, but this does not ex-plain why he returns to the theme so many times. It seems, rather, thatthis theme should be seen in the context of what is probably the mostevident feature of the book’s end, its enigmatic concluding sentences.The end of the Tractatus, with its demand to throw away the ladder,leaves us astonished. It seems, then, that Wittgenstein’s constant returnto the theme of questioning is an attempt to separate this astonishmentand the enigma of the end from our usual modes of understanding aquestion, a problem, a doubt.

In his discussions with members of the Vienna Circle as well as in the“Lecture on Ethics,” Wittgenstein speaks of the kind of astonishmentthat is not expressible as a question:

Think, for example, of the astonishment that anything exists. This as-tonishment cannot be expressed in the form of a question, and there isalso no answer to it.1

Astonishment at the existence of the world is not a specific question towhich an answer could be found. Wittgenstein precludes this way of ad-dressing the issue:

When the answer cannot be put into words, neither can the questionbe put into words.

The riddle does not exist.If a question can be framed at all, it is also possible to answer it. (6.5)

To put such astonishment in the form of a question would be to make itinto a specific problem that demands an answer. But astonishment is nota question. It is internally related to what I called the assumption of lan-guage. Indeed, that possibility of acknowledgment presupposes a loss,

146 Signs of Sense

1. WVC, p. 68.

the questionability of experience as a whole, and the astonishment thataccompanies recognition of the nonsensicality of attempted answers.The alleged solution to such a condition points us once more to exis-tence in language, in its ordinariness. Accepting the ordinary as a stan-dard is suggested by Wittgenstein’s statement that “The solution of theproblem of life is seen in the vanishing of the problem” (6.521).

Astonishment has no object but the world, or the very existence oflanguage. Metaphysics can be seen as an attempt to react to such aston-ishment by providing an answer, a thematic view of the world as awhole. Thus to recognize the nonsensicality of metaphysics opens themoment of astonishment. Wittgenstein’s Tractatus exemplifies that theturning to the world cannot be sustained by any concept. The world is aplace of nondetermination. It is inherently questionable or enigmatic.The end of the Tractatus presents in the most vivid form the sense of thetension arising from the pressure to think the world as a whole. In sucha limit state, language brings us into the proximity of what is not a ques-tion but an enigma.

How does the Tractatus as a whole presents us with the enigmatic? Anenigmatic text is not a riddle for which one needs to seek a solution. It isa text whose difficulty implicates the reader by demanding that he trans-form his mode of approach. In other words, such a book, beyond itsmanifest content, has a dimension in which the very act of reading, therelation of reader and text, exemplifies something about the concerns ofthe work. Its concerns are exemplified in concreto, here and now, inthe act of reading itself. The reader’s own reactions, especially his dif-ficulties, are in themselves evidence of what the text is about. Hencethere is a certain parallel between the experience of reading the Tractatusand the experience of the world, or of the ethical that it directs us to. Atthe end of the book we can consider most clearly how the experience ofreading is linked to the experience of the world. (“He must transcendthese propositions, and then he will see the world aright.”)

Astonishment has no answer, but it can provoke a response to a demandthat is almost empty—a demand to recover language as such. The fa-mous last sentence of the Tractatus, “What we cannot speak about wemust pass over in silence,” can be read as precisely such a demand, asthe ethical imperative in language. The very form of that sentence—thedemand to be silent about what we cannot speak of—is at first sight puz-

A Demanding Silence 147

zling, for if something cannot be done there is no point in prohibiting it.The demand seems redundant, especially in the light of Wittgenstein’searlier statement at 5.61: “We cannot think what we cannot think; sowhat we cannot think we cannot say either.” Hence, at the end, it is clearthat something more is involved.

The sense of redundancy is generated by misconstruing the opposi-tion of speech and silence. It would indeed be tautological to say thatsense cannot be made beyond the bounds of sense, but Wittgensteindoes not state: “What we cannot say, we must not say.” He uses the term“sprechen” (speaking) rather than “sagen” (saying), and thus opposesspeech and silence. He demands silence. What is at stake here is, then,an actual intervention with speech rather than the abstract opposition ofthe sayable and the unsayable.

Moreover, the opposite of silence is not necessarily speaking withsense but, rather, making noise. Speaking without sense is one way ofbeing noisy. The ending of the Tractatus should therefore be read in con-junction with the epigraph of the book, which places the act of expres-sion against a background of noise: “. . . and whatever a man knows,whatever is not mere rumbling and roaring that he has heard, can be saidin three words.” The implication is that the noise of empty talk, whetherit be nonsense or mere mindlessness, conceals something. To be silentmeans primarily not to fall prey to the rumbling and roaring of rumor.Silence is what we need in order to be attentive to what there is, to theshowing of truth.

But why should it be difficult to accept language? Why the tendencyto cover up language with noise? It is the simultaneous recognition ofthe groundlessness of meaning and of the dependence of the very beingof the subject on the assumption of meaning that generates anxiety, andthe concomitant tendency to conceal that anxiety by seeking to groundmeaning systematically in metaphysics.

We can now form a connection between proposition 7, with its de-mand for silence, and proposition 6.53, which addresses the correctmethod of philosophy and describes the formative experience of philos-ophy as that of being robbed of such ultimate meaning. Language isdrawn into meaninglessness, in the very attempt to cover its owngroundlessness:

The correct method in philosophy would really be the following: tosay nothing except what can be said, i.e. propositions of natural sci-

148 Signs of Sense

ence—i.e. something that has nothing to do with philosophy—andthen, whenever someone else wanted to say something metaphysical,to demonstrate to him that he had failed to give a meaning to certainsigns in his propositions. Although it would not be satisfying to theother person—he would not have the feeling that we were teachinghim philosophy—this method would be the only strictly correct one.

Thus being denied the illusion of meaning produces anxiety or makesmanifest the anxiety at the heart of our being in language. This is whatestablishes the underlying mood of the book’s ending and shows howthe demand to maintain oneself resolutely within this anxiety might in-deed be conceived as an imperative. This posture is demanded in theface of the urge to run up against the limits of language. The dissatisfac-tion that the other person would evince by being shown the meaning-lessness of the terms he uses would cause him to redouble his efforts,until he came to recognize the urge in that repetition itself. Recognizingthe significance of that moment is the primary condition of philosophi-cal learning.

The imperative, the ‘must’ of the last sentence, which must be keptdistinct from, yet related to, the familiar understanding of the ethical‘ought,’ has to be read in conjunction with the sense of astonishment Ihave elaborated. The ‘answer’ to the impossible ‘question’ is a responseto a voice that commands meaning as such. It does not command this orthat but is a demand to maintain oneself within language.

In his remarks on Heidegger to the Vienna Circle Wittgenstein citedAugustine’s saying with reference to this impulse to run up against thelimits of language: “What, you swine, you want not to talk nonsense! Goahead and talk nonsense, it does not matter!”2 The context here isunclear, but years later Wittgenstein returned to this very remark ofAugustine in a conversation with Maurice Drury. In response to Drury’sassertion that “a professor of philosophy had no right to keep silentconcerning such an important subject [as religion]” Wittgenstein com-mented:

You are saying something like St. Augustine says here. ‘Et vae . . .’ Butthis translation in your edition misses the point entirely. It reads, ‘Andwoe to those who say nothing concerning thee seeing that those whosay most are dumb.’ It should be translated ‘And woe to those who saynothing concerning thee just because the chatterboxes talk a lot of

A Demanding Silence 149

2. WVC, p. 69.

nonsense.’ ‘Loquaces’ is a term of contempt. I won’t refuse to talk toyou about God or about religion.3

It would seem that nothing could be easier than to be silent, and that ademand for silence would be superfluous. But such an easy silencewould not address the anxiety or the sense that the limits of languageplace a demand on the subject. If we decide in advance that what is im-portant is the silence, we might just as well sit back and avoid nonsenseby not speaking of anything important. The attempt to avoid nonsenseby remaining silent, Wittgenstein argues, is swinish behavior. The recog-nition of significance always involves returning from the temptation ofnonsense. Wittgenstein views the very urge to nonsense as significant oras manifesting the ethical dimension. Indeed, what is imperative is notwhat one says, but one’s ability to recognize this disintegration of lan-guage.

For human beings, silence manifests itself in the form of a demand.This is not the Kantian imperative arising from the division between na-ture and reason, but rather, it is the sign that the source of the sig-nificance of speech manifests itself only through the drive to nonsense.The imperative in language cannot be heard apart from the temptationto nonsense, to noise. This is precisely why being silent is possible onlyas an imperative.4 The imperative to listen in silence is the demand todo away with the noisy elements of nonsense that surround us, but theimperative form precisely means that silence is ever to be achievedthrough overcoming the temptation to noise. We cannot listen to puresilence.5

The propositions of the Tractatus can serve as elucidations. What is itthat is elucidated and what particular function do these propositionsserve when used as elucidations? Wittgenstein characterizes elucida-tions in 3.263:

The meanings of primitive signs can be explained by means of eluci-dations. Elucidations are propositions that contain the primitive signs.

150 Signs of Sense

3. R. Rhees, Ludwig Wittgenstein: Personal Recollections, pp. 90–91.

4. Listening has always been a favorite philosophical figure for the appearance of the ethical

imperative, the voice of conscience.

5. This will develop into the voices of the Philosophical Investigations—between temptation

and return, ever manifesting the imperative of silence or the need to give philosophy peace.

So they can only be understood if the meanings of those signs are al-ready known.

Elucidations appear in the process of clarification involved in analysis.Analysis presents a primitive term in a context that makes its use per-spicuous. Such a work assumes from the start an understanding of themeaning of signs, although in a confused form. It is in that sense thatWittgenstein writes:

Philosophy aims at the logical clarification of thoughts.Philosophy is not a body of doctrine but an activity.A philosophical work consists essentially of elucidations.Philosophy does not result in ‘philosophical propositions’, but

rather in the clarification of propositions.Without philosophy thoughts are, as it were, cloudy and indistinct:

its task is to make them clear and to give them sharp boundaries.(4.112)

This claim concerning the nature of a philosophical work must be con-trasted, on the one hand, to Wittgenstein’s description of the strictly cor-rect method in philosophy in 6.53, and on the other, to the elucidatorynature of the Tractatus. The strictly correct method in philosophy raisesthe question of the relation between elucidation and demonstrating tosomeone that he has failed to give a meaning to certain signs in his prop-ositions. An elucidation operates in a context where meaning appearscloudy and indistinct and must be made perspicuous. The demonstra-tion of nonsense occurs when all our attempts at clarification have failedto provide a meaning to some term we have used. But this demonstra-tion is produced by means of elucidating meaningful terms. It is pre-cisely by clarifying the functioning of our terms that we can realize thatwe have missed our aim, we have failed to provide meaning.

A connection is thus established between the work of elucidation andthe demonstration of nonsense. But this also makes clear the contrastbetween such work, which Wittgenstein calls the strictly correct methodin philosophy, and the work of the Tractatus itself. If the Tractatus doesnot exemplify the strictly correct method, how does it differ from it? Itcould be seen as presenting a case in which a term—here, the term thatopened the book, ‘the world’—has not been given meaning, for all prop-ositions that attempted to produce such a meaning have turned out to benonsense. But the peculiar thing is that it is precisely by virtue of that

A Demanding Silence 151

failure that the Tractatus is an elucidation. The elucidation is no longerone of meaning: “My propositions serve as elucidations in the followingway: anyone who understands me eventually recognizes them as non-sensical.” It is this recognition of nonsense that provides the elucida-tion—that at the heart of language is a place of nonmeaning. It requiresus to recognize such a place in the midst of our dealings with meaning.

The Tractatus is an elucidation of that which can be no meaning. Itperspicuously presents an empty place. This is a task that is intrinsicallycontradictory; it can succeed only by bringing us close to the failure ordisintegration of language in such a way as to illuminate or provide anelucidation.

How can nonmeaning be elucidated? I have indicated the relation thatWittgenstein forms between the drive to metaphysics, the quest for ab-solute value, and the apparent generation of similes or figures. Those fig-ures strictly speaking stand for nothing. They are nonsensical attemptsto say more than can be said. That excess beyond what can be said iswhat lends to such utterances the appearance of figures. As long as weremain gripped by such figures we do not recognize their nonsensicality.But can there be a figure that is able to make manifest its very emptiness,that it is a figure of nothing?

The Tractatus contains such a figure, namely the figure of the ladder atthe end of the book. This is where the thought of nonsense and the ques-tion of the figurative come together. The first thing to note about theladder is that it is a figure. We have encountered other figures in theTractatus: to speak of the proposition as a picture is a figure of sorts, as isWittgenstein’s use of the human organism to characterize everyday lan-guage. But the fact that this figure is placed here, at the limit of what phi-losophy can do, is itself suggestive and evokes various other mythicalmoments in philosophy.

The figure of the ladder does not relate to a specific moment in thebook, to a certain claim or argument. It is a figure for the book itself andfor our mode of reading it. Moreover, it makes the issue of achieving theproper relation to the world dependent on the relation we bear to thetext itself. One might say that it presents an analogy between our rela-tion to the text and our relation to the world.

The elaboration of the analogy precludes grasping the Tractatus as aclosed totality, as something wholly self-sufficient that we can encom-pass in our reading, for at the last moment of the attempted closure

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everything falls apart. Hence the ladder is a figure for the world as thatwhich eludes us; it is a figure for the recognition of the very absence ofsense in our relation to the world.

However, the ladder also presents the whole text as a figure of sorts,showing it to be an attempt that misses its mark, a generation of anexcess of meaning in language in an attempt to elucidate the world. Itreveals the work of the Tractatus as the creation of an immense myth.The Tractatus does not merely include a figure for what it is to readit. The ladder is a figure that presents that work itself as a figure fornothing. Think of it this way: the Tractatus is shown, by means of the fig-ure of the ladder, to be illusion rather than thought; although in itselfnonsense, it presents itself as something other than it is. Now such an il-lusion, far from being a deceitful mask that hides the truth, emergesas profoundly revelatory. The presentation of truth by means of a dis-placement from literal meaning is what I understand to be a successfulfigure.

I mentioned in my introduction the similarity between the Tractatus andthe impossible book of ethics. What are the implications of this similar-ity, and of the fact that the apocalyptic book is clearly a book of fantasy?Did Wittgenstein aim to write such a book but was simply unable to pro-duce the intensity of explosion that would destroy all other books? Or,as I think Wittgenstein implies, is the thought of writing a book with thepower to destroy all other books itself an illusion?

But how does the figure of the ladder fit in this comparison? Throw-ing away the ladder could also be said to be something of a fantasy, atleast if it is to be understood as solving once and for all the problems ofphilosophy (see the preface). For why should the last two propositionsbe excluded from the threat of nonsensicality when they too belong tothe book and must be thrown away? That would mean that we mustovercome the fantasy of throwing metaphysics away, once and for all,like a ladder. The metaphysical urge has to be recognized and decons-tructed time and again. This might be one reason why the Tractatus isnot an example of the strictly correct method in philosophy (see 6.54)but does characterize the need for that method. There is no place wherewe could stand to contemplate such a scene of destruction. The wish forthe ultimate silence is as misleading as the wish for the omniscient per-spective on all that is the case.

* * *

A Demanding Silence 153

Meaning may have been lost, but does that leave us with nothing?Maybe it is precisely when no thoughts are left that the simple presenceof the one who writes is revealed, followed by the awareness of myself,the implicated reader.

The figure of a ladder as a figure for reading allows this shift of regis-ters. If the ladder leads us anywhere, it is from our immersion in the textto the point where we can raise the question of our relation to the text. Itallows us to understand that our relation to the work as a whole presentsan analogue of our relation to the world and to another person, thusbringing to the fore author, reader, and text.

At the end of the Tractatus, it is speech rather than thought that iswithheld. The dimension of speech was barely apparent in the previousconsiderations. This is therefore the place to inquire what properly be-longs to speech as such, and how speech relates to the other moments oflanguage disclosed by the text. What are the conditions of speech?

I have contrasted speech and saying, and also silence and noise. I nowwant to think of speech as essentially a matter of address. Speech issomething that is given and accepted, withheld or denied among sub-jects. Speech reveals a moment which is essential to ethics and whichhas been strangely absent from Wittgenstein’s considerations up to now:the presence of another human being as essential to the opening of thedomain of the ethical. That speech is unavailable here, at the end, meansthat we have reached the limit of the relation to another person, the limitthat reveals something essential about that relation. This is also the limiton the intervention on the part of Wittgenstein himself.6

It is significant that this moment occurs within a scene of educationwhich starts with 6.53 and deals with how to respond to someone whocomes to philosophy.7 Here the teacher himself appears in person, and

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6. This way of thematizing the end makes it a moment of solitude, even in the presence of

another human being. Many interpretations that consider the end of the book in the context of

the problem of the relation to others tend to emphasize a return to communality, to a shared

language (see, for example, J. Floyd, “The Uncaptive Eye: Solipsism in Wittgenstein’s Trac-

tatus”; T. Ricketts, “Pictures, Logic and the Limits of Sense in Wittgenstein’s Tractatus”). This

approach ignores the way in which agreement in judgment depends upon the moments of utter

isolation, works against the threat of nonsensicality.

7. Wittgenstein speaks of method in the context of the teaching of philosophy, thus using

the term ‘method’ in the traditional philosophical way (see, for example, Kant’s understanding

of the doctrine of method). The separation between the strictly correct method in philosophy

and the work of the Tractatus should not be identified with the claim that the Tractatus is not a

textbook (Preface).

the limits of his capacity to intervene are determined. In these last prop-ositions Wittgenstein brings together the ethical, the nature of philo-sophical teaching and learning, as well as the literary space spanned be-tween author, reader, and text.

The moment we face, as a limit moment, is not a communication of con-tent based on understanding but an encounter pure and simple. The ap-pearance of the reader can be thought of through a peculiar temporaldetermination of the possibility of coming to terms with the work. Con-sider the contrast between the description of the reader’s position at thebeginning and at the end:

Perhaps this book will be understood only by someone who has him-self already had the thoughts that are expressed in it—or at least simi-lar thoughts.—So it is not a textbook.—Its purpose would be achievedif it gave pleasure to one person who read and understood it. (Preface,p. 3)

[A]nyone who understands me eventually recognizes them as nonsen-sical, when he has used them—as steps—to climb up beyond them.(He must, so to speak, throw away the ladder after he has climbed upit.). (6.54)

A first striking difference between these two passages is that whereas thePreface denies that the Tractatus is a textbook, namely a text that can beused as a ladder to advance step by step, the end suggests that it must betreated as a textbook in order to ultimately learn from it beyond what is,strictly speaking, teachable. This must be related to the claim I made inthe first chapter: that the work has a structure of return, and that theplace we return to is the world. And we do not need a ladder to reach theworld.8 We nevertheless need the fantasy of climbing a ladder that leadsus to some external theoretical perspective on the world and of failing inthis attempt, precisely in order to be eventually returned to the world. Inthrowing away the ladder we do not throw away something that hasserved its purpose in bringing us to a different place than the one westarted from. We throw it away because we have realized somethingabout our urge to construct ladders. But that insight itself cannot beachieved without working through the fantasy of the ladder.

A Demanding Silence 155

8. “I might say: if the place I want to get to could only be reached by way of a ladder, I

would give up trying to get there. For the place I really have to get to is a place I must already be

at now. Anything that I might reach by climbing a ladder does not interest me” (CV, p. 7).

The second striking difference between the two passages, related tothe first, concerns the temporal dimension that is evoked. In the PrefaceWittgenstein emphasizes the ‘already had’ of truth: the reader must al-ready possess what the book strives toward in order to be able to read itwith understanding. The latter proposition indicates a future moment,after all that could have been done has been done. Understanding willoccur ‘eventually,’ after the fact of reading. The time lag between thecompletion of reading and the moment of realization expressed in the‘eventually’ can be read in conjunction with the temporality of the ‘al-ready had.’ For, if in respect to the linear reading of the book realizationcan only be late, then whoever understands already has in mind thethoughts expressed here, is pregnant with the possibility of understand-ing.

Throwing away the ladder is not an action dictated by the reading, buta distinct moment temporally separated from such reading; hence thetime gap between reading and recognition. This idea shifts the burden ofmeaningfulness onto the reader. Throwing away the ladder involves adecisiveness that is not dictated by the reading. Decisiveness reveals myposition as a reader with respect to what was read.9 It is in this gap thatthe very existence of a reader, by way of his resoluteness in throwingaway the ladder, becomes the issue.

We still have not explained the appearance of the author, of Wittgen-stein in person, standing apart from his propositions.10 “Anyone whounderstands me eventually recognizes them as nonsensical” (my empha-sis). It is tempting to misread this shift to mean that Wittgenstein holdssome key that has been withheld from us in the writing, that there issome information that he knows but has not conveyed in his proposi-tions, especially in the light of the opening remarks of the preface: “Per-haps this book will be understood only by someone who has himself

156 Signs of Sense

9. Such decisiveness is not distinct from the facing and assuming of possibilities on the part

of the reader himself, in his own place. It is to be distinguished from Diamond’s idea of not

‘chickening out,’ which, I take it, still assumes the possibility of getting rid of metaphysics ab-

solutely. (See “Throwing Away the Ladder,” in The Realistic Spirit).

10. Mounce points at this shift only in order to deny its significance: “Note that he speaks

not so much of our understanding what he says as of our understanding him. He is suggesting,

in other words, that even if we cannot, strictly speaking, grasp the sense of what he says, we can

certainly grasp what he is getting at in saying it.” See Wittgenstein’s Tractatus: An Introduction,

p. 101.

already had the thoughts that are expressed in it—or at least similarthoughts” (Preface, p. 3). Why else is the author mentioned if not to in-dicate that he holds some knowledge that has been denied to all thosewho did not share the same thoughts themselves before reading thetext? One is tempted to place Wittgenstein in the position of the subjectwho is supposed to know. Moreover, the numbering of the last proposi-tion, 7, would seem to place him in the position of the author of thatworld, the one who holds all the answers, in silence. Yet it should beclear by now that Wittgenstein does not take his authorship as derivingits authority from the place of transcendence occupied by the divinity.

The point is not that Wittgenstein possesses some knowledge that ishidden, withheld from us, for in the end there is nothing; and this is pre-cisely what turns the reader towards the author. His attraction as a mas-ter derives solely from his ability to make this nothingness manifest.This is also what I see as the source of both the fascination and the paral-ysis provoked by the end.

Wittgenstein’s statement that whoever understands him will eventu-ally reject his propositions as nonsensical sounds strange. If we were toattribute to him some form of esoteric knowledge, we would expect himto say that whoever rejects his propositions as nonsensical will under-stand him beyond what he said. The formulation chosen by Wittgen-stein indicates that the relation one forms to the teacher provides thesupport for the resolve to eventually reject the propositions. If the recog-nition of the nonsensicality of the very language we use is at stake, theremust be someone else who supports that understanding as our languagedisintegrates. It is this condition that necessitates the appearance of thefirst person.

In his conversation with the Vienna Circle Wittgenstein is reported tohave said:

At the end of my lecture on ethics I spoke in the first person: I thinkthat this is something very essential. Here there is nothing to be statedany more; all I can do is to step forth as an individual and speak inthe first person. For me a theory is without value. A theory gives menothing.11

The appearance of the first person at the end of the “Lecture on Ethics”or at the end of the Tractatus does not mean that we have reached a mo-

A Demanding Silence 157

11. WVC, p. 117.

ment of sincerity, as opposed to the deceit of all that has gone before; norcan it be attributed to Wittgenstein’s wish to express his personal belief,for it appears precisely when all views are put aside. Rather, the neces-sity of the appearance of the first person is linked with the disintegrationof meaning as such.

Put differently, when we throw away the ladder, we are confrontedwith the question of what we can stand on (until we realize that we havebeen brought back to earth). What can support us in that realization? Inparticular, if the realization is something of an abyss for the reader, whatis necessary at this point is the presence of another human being—notto help the subject to understand, but to support the realization.

The condition is one in which the reader is individuated through fac-ing limits. It is in relation to the book’s power to isolate the reader atthe end that Wittgenstein writes in the preface: “Its purpose would beachieved if it gave pleasure to one person who read it with understand-ing.”12 That the book is aimed at one person does not mean that Witt-genstein had no ambition for his work to make an impact; nor does it in-dicate his doubt in the possibility of finding one reader who mightunderstand such a difficult book. Rather, it is essential to the book’s turnof thought that it always be aimed at one person, in turn.

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12. I have modified the translation to fit the sense that what is at stake is not the under-

standing of the book’s content but reading it with understanding.

Part Two

Signs of Sense Debates Concerning the Tractatus

11

On Some Central Debates Concerningthe Tractatus

In presenting my interpretation of the Tractatus I tried to stay as close aspossible to the movement of the text itself. This meant foregoing anycomparison between my interpretation and the central interpretative po-sitions concerning the Tractatus. Here I would like to remedy this lack tosome extent, without making a systematic attempt to present the variousinterpretative debates concerning the Tractatus but simply placing myinterpretation in relation to certain exemplary positions.

A further aim of this second part is to form broad connections be-tween the different topics of the Tractatus. While my exposition of thevarious topics will follow more or less their order of exposition in thebook, I will also try to indicate their interdependence. Thus this chapterpresents connections between the various issues in the Tractatus in amore schematic, perspicuous, and condensed way than in the main bodyof the text above.

1. Facts, Objects, and the World

The structure of my interpretation depends on maintaining a threefolddistinction between the various perspectives opened by the Tractatus: toseparate as well as to relate the perspectives of facts, of objects, and ofthe world. Each of these terms introduces a set of concepts that enablesits elucidation. Thus, for example, facts will be associated with an elabo-ration of logical, inferential relations, with the notion of structure, withhow things are. It is from this perspective that our making of sense, ofwhat can be said, will be primarily elaborated. Facts are importantly said

161

to be valueless. The perspective of objects gives us a grasp of the notionof realized form, or of real possibilities. The recovery of objects is therecognition of meaning and significance in language. It is from this per-spective that the force and the point of Wittgenstein’s notion of showing,and its contrast with saying, become apparent. The perspective openedby the term ‘world’ is accompanied by an elaboration of the concept oflimits, and it introduces an understanding of the subject as existing inlanguage. It is from this perspective that we understand Wittgenstein’suse of the concept of revelation or manifestation (in contrast both toshowing and to saying) and its relation to the drive to nonsense. It isalso this perspective that raises the question of our relation as readers tothe text of the Tractatus as a whole and to its injunction to throw awaythe ladder.

This very schematic division of the main concepts of the Tractatuscan, I think, indicate my initial disagreement with various central inter-pretations of the Tractatus. Most interpreters, when considering the rela-tion between the grasping of facts and the recognition of objects, agreethat facts are precisely what is straightforwardly accessible, they arewhat is said in language. There is far less agreement among interpretersabout our access to objects, a notion that is thoroughly problematized inthe Tractatus. There is no agreement as to what objects are, or even if wecan ever know them. Some interpreters tend to associate them with aparticular kind of things (for instance, J. and M. Hintikka think of themas objects of acquaintance); others, such as D. Pears, view the postula-tion of objects as the result of an a priori argument concerning the nec-essary conditions for language, and think of such objects as unlike any-thing we are acquainted with.

In my view, the first question to ask is what is at stake in the revelationof objects. Why would the revelation of objects be something that is offundamental value for Wittgenstein? Alternatively, we could ask what isproblematic in treating our access to the world merely in terms of facts.The problem arises towards the end of the Tractatus, when we realizethat a world of facts is a world without value. By focusing on facts as the“real” constituents of our world, we are led to place all value outside theworld. We end up facing a stark contrast between a world of facts and atranscendent source of value, as well as the apparently insurmountableproblem of relating the one to the other. That contrast leaves no roomfor a conception of experience that is in itself valuable.

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The stark contrast between facts and transcendent value is in part dueto the problematic elaboration of the perspective of the objects. A dis-tinct feature of my interpretation is that it links the recognition of ob-jects to the opening of significance, to a dimension of value. The recog-nition of objects is the revelation of the real possibilities of experience.This claim certainly requires a reconception of our understanding ofvalue. In particular, it places great emphasis on the idea that the funda-mental condition of ‘willing’ is the recognition of real possibilities for thewill and for action. It is this identification of objects with what is sig-nificant for a subject that is ultimately at stake in the decision to think ofobjects as something that can and must be revealed in language. It is pri-marily for that reason that I assume that objects cannot be thought ofmerely as necessary, yet unknown, logical requirements of language.

Having said that, it is clear also that if objects are not merely what issignified in language but are the source of significance, the access tothem cannot be straightforward. Hence the various interpretations thatmake such objects into objects of acquaintance seem to me problematicinsofar as they do not provide an account of how the recovery of the ob-ject has any value. In attempting to problematize the access to objectswhile retaining their relation to our mode of making sense, I have inter-preted such objects as providing us with the conditions of the sense wemake. This approach is, I think, in line with Wittgenstein’s later empha-sis on the notion of grammar as giving us the condition of possibility ofphenomena. The perspective of the object thus forms one of the centrallines of continuity between the early and the later Wittgenstein.

As opposed to facts and objects, the third perspective, that of theworld, is one of the most neglected in interpretations of the Tractatus.The world is seldom viewed as a concept that needs elaboration, or thatbrings with it a whole grammar of terms that clarify it (such as the no-tions of limits, of the ‘I’, of affects pertaining to its appearance or veil-ing). As against the intense effort of interpretation devoted to such termsas facts and objects, the world is often seen merely as some kind of sumof those (taking, as it were, the opening claim of the book—“The worldis all that is the case”—as the central characterization of the notion ofworld).1 This can lead to identify the world as it is presented at the be-

Debates Concerning the Tractatus 163

1. An indication of that neglect is that the term ‘world’ does not even appear in the index of

the central interpretations of the Tractatus.

ginning of the book with the world that appears as a limited whole at theend.2 Such an identification leaves us unable to account for the relationof the world to the ethical. It remains unclear how the totality of factscan be accessible to feeling, or why such a totality should be of such sig-nificance.

But there is also a danger in separating the world of the beginningfrom that of the end, or differentiating too sharply the world of factsfrom a mystical experience of totality. In this case the world appearing atthe end would be thought of as a mysterious object of mystical experi-ence, and we would be tempted to appeal to Wittgenstein’s doctrine ofunsayability to conceal the unclarity of such a mysterious relation to theworld.

Both interpretations—those that treat the world as a sum total offacts, and those that treat it as some mystical whole—reify this conceptand make of it a graspable totality, an object of contemplation, as if onecould have various attitudes toward that object, or various pictures ofthe world as a whole. This approach implies a subject that stands apartfrom the world of facts and can change mysteriously his attitudes tofacts. But what such a change of attitude towards facts can be is mostlyleft unexplained. For a fact is just plainly . . . a fact.

My interpretation seeks to elaborate the notion of ‘world’ as part ofunderstanding what it is for a subject to be in the world or in language—what I call an existential elaboration of the world. This approach enablesthe concept of world to be related both to the subject and to an affectivedimension that pertains to the subject’s assumption or avoidance of lim-its. The elaboration of these existential dimensions of the subject de-pends on the above-mentioned distinction between facts and objects.Hence a shift in the relation to the world as a whole is not a matter ofsubjective attitudes but is made possible by a distinction that lies at thevery heart of language itself.3

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2. Thus E. Anscombe writes concerning the appearance of ‘world’ toward the end of the

book: “The world ‘as a limited whole’ is not suddenly introduced here as a new topic. We en-

counter the world conceived as a whole—as all that is the case—and as limited—namely by be-

ing all that is the case—at the very outset of the book; the feeling of the world as a whole ap-

pears in the remark at 1.2: ‘The world splits up into facts’, for it is only of a whole that we can

say it splits up.” An Introduction to Wittgenstein’s Tractatus, p. 169.

3. It is this neglect of the existential dimensions of ‘world’ that explains why many inter-

preters fail to sense the affinities of Wittgenstein’s early thought with that of Heidegger, an

2. Form and Structure

To elaborate in more detail the difference between my interpretation andcentral readings of the Tractatus, let us first consider the concept ofform, which is crucial to our understanding of all the issues in the book.The concept of form must be elaborated primarily in contrast to thatof structure. That distinction has puzzled many commentators of theTractatus, but most commentators agree that the distinction betweenform and structure is related to Wittgenstein’s understanding of possi-bility.

In his “Critical Notice on Wittgenstein’s Tractatus Logico-Philo-sophicus,” F. Ramsey related the distinction between form and structureto the distinction between possibility and actuality. Relying on Wittgen-stein’s claim that “form is the possibility of structure,” he writes: “Theonly point which I can see in the distinction between structure andform, is that the insertion of ‘possibility’ may include the case in whichthe alleged fact whose form we are considering is not a fact, so that wecan talk of the form of the fact aRb, whether or not aRb is true, provided

Debates Concerning the Tractatus 165

affinity I try to indicate in my interpretation. Indeed, the central concept in the elaboration of

the analytic of Dasein in Being and Time is precisely that of ‘being-in-the world.’ The intricacy of

that analysis of the phenomenon of world, and in particular the relation Heidegger establishes

between the appropriation of possibilities and affective dimensions pertaining to being-in-the-

world as such can be fruitfully compared with Wittgenstein’s analysis.

J. Edwards does propose a reading of Wittgenstein with Heidegger, but his reading focuses

on analogies between the thinking of the later Wittgenstein and that of Heidegger. The Trac-

tatus is considered in contrast to the later view: “The Tractarian account of the nature of the

proposition as world-representation, as a picture of reality, leads in that book to the discovery

of the metaphysical self, the ‘limit of the world’ (5.362) which is the necessary condition of any

such representation. From there it is an easy path to the idea that this ‘godhead,’ this self-con-

scious will to world-representation that originally makes linguistic meaning by connecting

names to simple objects, also makes, through its own self-created ‘attitude’ (Notebooks, p. 87),

the ethical meaning that the world as a whole has for the happy or unhappy human being

(Tractatus, 6.43). The Tractarian metaphysical self is the ultimate narcissist: utterly indepen-

dent of the body and the world, . . . Such a self floats free from the world it surveys and whose

meaning it creates . . .” The Authority of Language, pp. 192–193. This ‘activist’ characterization

of the self in the Tractatus clearly stands in stark contrast to a Heideggerian sensibility, which

construes the subject as openness to meaning that is given in the world. But once the subject is

properly construed through the existential possibility of appropriation of meaning, it is possi-

ble to sense the affinities of Wittgenstein’s and Heidegger’s accounts.

it is logically possible.”4 The implication is that a structure is merely anactualized form, or form is a possible structure. There is no real distinc-tion in nature between form and structure, but only with respect toactual existence. According to Ramsey, form is associated with a possi-bility, whereas a structure is an actualized form.5 So why not just distin-guish possible structures from actual structures?

I argue that the claim that form is the possibility of structure does notmean that form is a possible structure, but rather that form conditionsall possible structures. When Wittgenstein writes “Form is the possibil-ity of structure,” he is not denying that we can speak of possible struc-tures. Indeed, possibility is as structured as actuality. The central differ-ence is that form is the manifestation of the whole space of possibilities,thus the condition of all possible structures.

Form, thought of as the condition of possibility of facts, is a substan-tive and powerful notion. In particular, when the notion of form relatesto our understanding of the object, it determines the distinction be-tween the internal properties of an object and its factual or materialproperties. I have attempted to map this distinction into the form-struc-ture distinction by thinking of internal properties, the form, as giving uswhat the object is, and material properties as being determined by thestructure of combination of objects, by how things are arranged. In thatpair the most substantive notion is that of form, whereas structure is themere way things are configured. Such configurations have the form oflogical space, that is, the form of facts. Several interpretations of the no-tion of form and its relation to the understanding of the object reversethat relation and make the notion of form something rather thin and in-substantial. This is the result of misreading how Wittgenstein thinks ofthe relation of internal and external properties, which makes them intotwo separate set of properties, the first giving a bare form and the secondfilling it with content. For example, P. M. S. Hacker writes that

166 Signs of Sense

4. F. Ramsey, “A Critical Notice of L. Wittgenstein Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus” in J. V.

Canfield, ed., The Philosophy of Wittgenstein: A Fifteen Volume Collection, vol. 1, p. 35.

5. Black endorses a position close to Ramsey’s when he writes that “It is doubtful whether it

[the form-structure distinction] is needed.” A Companion to Wittgenstein’s ‘Tractatus,’ p. 66. His

explanation makes it clear how he came to this conclusion: “one would expect that a fact has a

structure and form, while a possible state of affairs has only form.” Ibid., p. 66. Pears works

with a similar conception of the form-structure distinction. He writes, for instance: “the form

of a fact is a possibility projected into the sentence that depicts it” The False Prison, vol. 1, p. 26,

my emphasis.

The forms of an object are its internal or formal properties . . . In addi-tion to its formal properties an object has external properties. The formof an object is its possibility of occurring in the various states of affairsin which it can occur . . . its form is thus determined by the sum of itsformal properties, for it is they that determine with what kind of otherobjects it can combine to constitute a fact. This is what constitutes itsontological type. The contingent concatenations into which a specificobject does as a matter of fact enter are the external properties of theobject.6

Construing the form-content distinction as a distinction between kindsof properties leads Hacker to identify the form of objects with bare syn-tactical properties devoid of substantial meaning. This, as I will arguelater on, is the source of many problems in his interpretation.

I have attempted to construct my understanding of the distinction be-tween saying and showing on the basis of the distinction between struc-ture and form. Indeed, the impossibility of saying, or the need to showform, means precisely that form is not equated with a specific fact orproposition but rather with a whole space of propositions internally re-lated to each other. It is the recognition of the internal relation that con-stitutes the recognition of form that cannot be said. Wittgenstein’s claimthat form can only be shown and not said becomes clear when we realizethat the term ‘form’ expresses the whole space of possibilities. Saying isalways a fact, a structure. Thus misreading the use of the term ‘form’ canlead to a misinterpretation of the ineffability of form, for example, byidentifying it with the ineffability of the mystical. To relate to form isprecisely to take into account in language use all the possibilities thatdetermine the space of form. The awareness of form is thus the incorpo-ration of possibilities into one’s use of language. It is for this reason thatthe concept of form plays a role in our understanding of the subject, ordetermines a dimension of subjectivity. Hence it is far from being amerely technical or logical notion.

3. Objects and Simplicity

The question of the nature of the object and its simplicity cannot, Ithink, be separated from a more general assessment of Wittgenstein’saim and task in the Tractatus. Our understanding of objects affects such

Debates Concerning the Tractatus 167

6. P. M. S. Hacker, Insight and Illusion, pp. 19–20.

issues as Wittgenstein’s supposed realism, his understanding of the rela-tion between language and world, and his understanding of the place ofeveryday language.

The question of the nature of the object is made particularly difficultbecause of the lack of any examples of objects in the Tractatus. This verylack can be interpreted as suggesting that objects are to be identifiedwith theoretical posits that might never be discovered. Thus Russellwrites in his introduction to the Tractatus: “It is not contended by Witt-genstein that we can actually isolate the simple or have empirical knowl-edge of it. It is a logical necessity demanded by theory, like an electron.”7

Among contemporary interpreters, D. Pears elaborates this approachmost forcefully: “[Wittgenstein] argued a priori from the existence offactual sentences with senses to the existence of an underlying grid of el-ementary possibilities, with simple objects at the nodal points.”8 Pears’sfundamental starting point is to bring together Wittgenstein’s under-standing of language and Russell’s logical atomism. Yet Pears wants alogical atomism without Russell’s requirement of acquaintance as a de-termination of the end point of analysis. The criterion of simplicity heattributes to Wittgenstein is that “a thing is simple, and so what he calls‘an object’, if and only if, its nature does not generate any necessary con-nections between a sentence in which it is named and other sentencesbelonging to the same level.”9

Pears thus relates the understanding of the object to the claim thatelementary propositions are logically independent of each other. Thisleads him to attribute to Wittgenstein the claim that “the objects shouldbe entirely devoid of internal complexity.” But how is such an under-standing compatible with Wittgenstein’s statement that objects containthe possibility of all situations (2.014)? In Pears’s account it is hard tosee how an object can be said to have form, or how possibilities of com-bination are part of the nature of that object. Pears does indeed acknowl-edge that the object has various possibilities of combination inherent toit, but he fails to think of those as being in any way reflected in language.The claim that the object contains its possibilities of combination be-comes a dogmatic metaphysical assertion, since nothing in language re-

168 Signs of Sense

7. B. Russell, Introduction to the Tractatus, p. xiii.

8. D. Pears, The False Prison, vol. 1, p. 64.

9. Ibid.

flects those possibilities. The way in which Pears conceives of the sim-plicity of the object makes it a totally inert point whose sole significanceis to mark the end of analysis. It is unclear how the logical dependenciesof facts are in any way related to the possibilities of the object. ButWittgenstein seems to think of the object in much more substantialterms. Objects make up the substance of the world (2.021). They con-tain all the material from which logical elaboration gives us whateverfacts there are. Conceiving of their form as the condition of facts pro-vides, I think, a better understanding of the substantial role they play inWittgenstein’s account.

Pears’s approach to objects can explain why Wittgenstein does notgive any examples of simple objects. Such objects are introduced as anpriori requirement; they must exist if sense is to be possible, but wemight not ever be able to specify what they are. Yet Wittgenstein’s silenceon this matter could be accounted for in a different way. Insofar as it ispart of the task of the Tractatus to turn us onto language, onto the properattention to language, which means precisely the attention to the objectswhich embody for us significant possibility, it would be self-defeating toprovide examples of objects, as if these could be derived theoretically.The recognition of the object is something that cannot be separatedfrom the application of logic to specific situations—from our use of lan-guage.10

Pears’s approach does accord to some extent with Wittgenstein’s dis-like for a priori theorizing about the form of reality. It precludes any at-tempt to give a substantive answer to the question of what there must beif there be sense. But the question is whether the postulation of the veryexistence of such mysterious simple objects is not itself another form ofproblematic a priorism. The issue for Wittgenstein is, I think, how toavoid opening a gap between signification as it appears through lan-

Debates Concerning the Tractatus 169

10. Pears describes logical form as immanent to factual discourse: “The system of the

Tractatus is built on an idea that is the exact opposite of Russell’s idea: the forms revealed by

logic are embedded in the one and only world of facts, and therefore, in the language that we

use to describe it. If Russell’s view is Platonic, this view is approximately Aristotelian. Logic is

immanent in factual discourse from the very beginning, and it emerges when we take factual

sentences and combine them in various truth-functional ways.” The False Prison, vol. 1, p. 23.

But Pears thinks of the immanence of logic only on the sentential level, and overlooks the pos-

sibility that the form of objects is immanent to our discourse. He writes later on in a footnote:

“But of course, Wittgenstein’s forms, unlike Aristotle’s, are sentential. It is only his view of their

source that is Aristotelian.” Ibid., p. 29.

guage, and the world. A theory of objects that makes them essentiallydistinct from any meaning we can relate to will necessarily appeal tosome mysterious relation that somehow forms itself between objects andlanguage. In this reading, the Tractatus would be committed to makingsubstantive metaphysical claims about the relation between languageand world, which would make the final gesture of throwing away theladder something done in bad faith.

Deciding the question concerning the possibility of revealing the ob-jects thus depends on how we interpret Wittgenstein’s attitude to ordi-nary language. Pears’s approach would make objects as distant from fa-miliar meaning as possible: “the surprising thing is not just that the userof the sentence does not know its analysis, but, rather, that he has noidea what kind of thing would be mentioned in its analysis, and mighteven find that he was not familiar with that ultimate kind of thing whenhe was told what it was.”11

The main difficulty I see in arguing that objects are wholly mysteriousand unfamiliar is that they cannot then be viewed as worth recovering.Objects are, so to speak, taken out of circulation; they do not form animportant part of the picture and task of the Tractatus. This view standsin contrast to the understanding that the recognition of objects is therecognition of the significance of the sense we make. This is why it is notenough to assert the mere necessity for objects to exist, but also the pos-sibility of recognizing objects in relation to the familiar sense we make,in everyday language.

Pears’s approach forms a connection between a certain understandingof simplicity and the idea that objects are unlike all that we are familiarwith.

Wittgenstein’s a priori requirement, that objects should be entirely de-void of internal complexity, drove his analysis of factual discourse be-yond the terminus that satisfied Russell. Objects might turn out to bethings no philosopher had ever suggested as the ultimate targets of ref-erence. Indeed, they would have to be new and strange, because noth-

170 Signs of Sense

11. Ibid., p. 69. Pears senses that Wittgenstein also says different things about the objects

but interprets them as a matter of inclination that is then repressed in the full fledged view of

the Tractatus: “In the Notebooks Wittgenstein evidently feels misgivings about this extreme

view of logical analysis, and he says things that betray a strong inclination to pull back the ter-

minus to a point that is not so remote from the consciousness of ordinary speakers.” Ibid.,

p. 69.

ing with which we are familiar could get past his total embargo on in-ternal structure.12

But this move might result from misunderstanding simplicity. We canhardly imagine what an object lacking any complexity could be. Butonce we see that the simplicity of the object is compatible with its hav-ing internal properties, we need not make such a sharp distinction be-tween the object and the possibilities revealed in everyday language.

Pears’s interpretation of what the simplicity of the object means de-rives from a misreading of Wittgenstein’s concept of form. Pears’s pictureof analyzed language is that of an underlying grid with utterly simpleand unfamiliar objects occurring as nodal points. This picture seems atvariance with Wittgenstein’s description of elementary propositions asdirect connections of objects (like links of a chain). Pears’s descriptionmay be an accurate account of how things appear from the perspectiveof facts, but once we shift to the perspective of objects, the logical grid isprecisely incorporated so as to bring out the form, the internal proper-ties of the objects. This is why a state of affairs consists solely of objects.Hence there is a need for an analysis that brings out the logical rela-tions of dependence between propositions, and a showing or recogni-tion of the internal network of possibilities that characterize the objectfor us.

Pears’s approach to the issue of simple objects can be contrasted to an-other approach in the secondary literature, which I label the “acquain-tance approach.” It is inspired by bringing together Russell’s account ofacquaintance with Wittgenstein’s understanding of objects. According tothis approach, simple objects can be identified with a certain category ofthings. Those things must be such as to exist necessarily. They cannot beordinary material objects, since supposedly their existence is alwayscontingent. A good candidate for such a category of simples whose exis-tence cannot be doubted are objects of acquaintance.

The identification of simples with objects of acquaintance introducesexternal epistemological concerns into the argument of the Tractatus,such as: what kinds of things in our world are truly partless? Are ele-ments in our visual field undecomposable? Is that a characteristic ofsense data in general? Is the perception of sense data evident? Are sensedata necessarily existing? Such investigations do not seem compatible

Debates Concerning the Tractatus 171

12. Ibid., p. 68.

with Wittgenstein’s criticism of any a priori theorization as to what theultimate elements of experience must be. Moreover, these consider-ations seem to miss something that is fundamental to Wittgenstein’s po-sitions, both early and late, namely, that we discover what something isthrough our use of terms in language.

Failing to identify objects through language, as the conditions of thesense we make, we start uncritically with whatever objects we seem toknow and then separate them into complex and simple objects. Such adivision does not accord with Wittgenstein’s use of the term ‘object’ inthe Tractatus. As I have pointed out, Wittgenstein writes “Objects aresimple” (2.02). He thus sees simplicity as constitutive of the very notionof the object (just as he takes complexity to be constitutive of the notionof the fact).

A further problem with taking objects to be objects of acquaintance isthat it makes it difficult to understand how objects contain possibilitiesof combination, that is, that knowing an object is knowing possibilityand not just what is actual. Acquaintance seems to provide us primarilywith what is actual, since it requires an immediate relation to the object.Starting from actual acquaintance leads us to think of possibilities as be-ing constructed on the basis of actual data. Thus possibility is always amatter of logical operations on what is actually given. Possibility alwaysinvolves logical structure and cannot be seen as embedded in the natureof the object.

An exception to this idea that acquaintance gives us what is actual isadvanced by M. Hintikka and J. Hintikka in Investigating Wittgenstein.They argue that our acquaintance with the object also involves an ac-quaintance with forms: “Wittgenstein not only countenanced logicalforms of simple objects but placed a considerable emphasis on them . . .In the Tractatus the forms of simple objects govern the way in whichthese objects can be combined with each other. The form of an object iswhat is true of it a priori.”13 The authors then develop a complex and in-teresting argument for identifying simples with objects of acquaintanceprimarily as a consequence of what they call the ineffability of semanticsin the Tractatus. Thus they do not start with epistemology but ratherwith a thesis concerning language in the Tractatus. We cannot raisequestions about the existence or nonexistence of objects, because the re-

172 Signs of Sense

13. J. Hintikka and M. Hintikka, Investigating Wittgenstein, pp. 53–54.

lation of naming is ineffable, “the existence of a simple object is shownby the fact that its name is used in the language” (p. 47).14

Identifying the objects of the Tractatus with objects of acquaintancederives from the thesis of ineffability of the name-object relation. In-deed, even given such an ineffability, we can still say “what the object atthe receiving end of the relation is like” (p. 50). Hence the questionraised by M. Hintikka and J. Hintikka is, which kinds of objects are suchthat we cannot raise questions as to their naming? They seek an answerin Wittgenstein’s background:

The sense data out of which Russell constructs the external world ex-hibit a similarly perplexing ambivalence between the phenomenal andthe objective. On the one hand, they are the data which sense give us,hence subject to all the vagaries of sense perception. On the otherhand, they are not a part of one’s psychological process of sense-per-ception . . . They are the objects of perception, part of the perceptualcontents, not an aspect of the act of perceiving. Hence they exhibit thesame ambivalence as do Wittgenstein’s objects.

Although I am in complete agreement with the idea that Wittgensteindoes not provide a substantive account of the name-object relation inthe Tractatus, I distinguish the claim of the ineffability of that relationfrom the claim I make that depicting depends on the identity of form inpicture and reality. Once this identity is acknowledged there is, I think,even less temptation to think of simple objects as a specific subset ofthings. They can be identified precisely with the form of depiction that isto be recovered beyond the form of our means of representation.15

It might be argued that in the account provided by J. and M. Hintikka,the revelation of the form of objects is brought close enough to a general

Debates Concerning the Tractatus 173

14. J. Hintikka and M. Hintikka elaborate Wittgenstein’s use of the concept of showing pri-

marily in relation to the ineffability of semantics. But I would think of it primarily in relation to

the uncovering of form, thus primarily in relation to the revelation of the internal relations that

constitute the object or determine the symbol. But in that case there is no further issue of deter-

mining the reference of the symbol. The identity of form between language and world is the

starting point of the account of picturing.

15. This move is supported by correlating Wittgenstein’s practice with phenomenology, as

well as broadening the concept of phenomenology to the description of “the range of possibili-

ties that an object allows.” Investigating Wittgenstein, p. 150. In this sense of phenomenology,

there is no need to invoke acquaintance as the primary mode of relating to objects. Phenomen-

ology would be the description of the conditions of possibility that constitute what a thing is.

idea of phenomenology to dispense with the need to insist on the spe-cialized use of acquaintance, as they do. If anything remains from theidea of acquaintance in relation to objects, it should be sought in the un-derstanding that objects are shown. To know an object is to show itsform as it appears through language. Showing, like acquaintance, refersus to a certain nondiscursive recognition, but it is a term that is freedfrom all connections to sensibility. It is used solely to characterize ourcapacity for recognizing the internal relations that constitute the formsof objects, or for recognizing the meaning of the sense we make.

The Hintikkas also propose a link between Wittgenstein’s notion ofshowing and the view that the objects of the Tractatus are objects of ac-quaintance. But their understanding of showing is primarily related tothe semantic dimension of the relation between name and object—tothe need for an act of pointing or ostension:

According to Russell’s sometime theory, there are in our language onlytwo logically proper names for particular objects other than oneself, towit, ‘this’ and ‘that’. If so, Russellian objects of acquaintance are intro-duced by displaying them and pointing to them, that is by showingthem. This is a perfect precedent of Wittgenstein’s mystical soundingdoctrine of showing in contradistinction to saying. It seems to us un-mistakable that this Russellian idea was in fact one of the models onwhich Wittgenstein’s notion of showing was based . . . Thus the gist ofWittgenstein’s seemingly delphic doctrine of showing turns out to be asober corollary to a semantics based on acquaintance.16

I prefer, however, to think of the notion of showing primarily in terms ofthe grammatical dimension, since it is in that dimension that the inter-nal relations that constitute the object are revealed. There then remainsno further task of assigning any meaning to the terms, since the formshown in language is the form of objects.

J. and M. Hintikka also develop a notion of ‘mirroring’, which theycontrast to ‘picturing’ and which indeed seems to capture the idea thatinternal properties are reflected in language. But I see no reason to dis-tinguish it from the notion of showing, which they use to indicate thesemantic dimension. In 4.121, for example, the terms “mirrored,” “re-flected,” “express itself,” “show,” and “display” are used interchangeably.

The approach I find closest to the one I adopted in this book, and

174 Signs of Sense

16. Ibid., p. 64.

which can be labeled ‘contextualist’, is the one presented by H. Ishiguroin “Use and Reference of Names.”17 Ishiguro views objects as wholly de-termined by the propositional contexts in which the name of the objectoccurs: “In the Tractatus Wittgenstein is anxious to stress that we cannotsee how the name refers to an object except by understanding the role itplays in propositions.” Instead of stressing the primacy of the “vertical”dimension of naming as the key to understanding Wittgenstein’s notionof the object, Ishiguro focuses on the “horizontal” dimension, on thevarious propositional contexts in which the name occurs, as the deter-minants of signification. Objects viewed in this way are related to thenotion of form and are said to possess internal properties determined bythe propositional contexts in which the names appear. Ishiguro makesthis point perfectly clear in discussing Wittgenstein’s notion of elucida-tion: “The elucidations make us see what the object is by showing its in-ternal properties. By making us grasp the kind of object which is inquestion they make us see in what sort of state of affairs the object couldoccur. What kind of propositions the elucidations are depends on thenature of the particular object in question.”18 This interpretation has themerit of bringing out the relation between the understanding of the ob-ject and the recognition of form, itself exhibited by the internal connec-tion between a series of propositions.

Ishiguro fails to make the distinction that I think is operative in theTractatus between ‘being a representative’ (vertreten) and meaning (be-deuten), which makes her interpretation vulnerable to certain criticismsadvanced by Pears. He objects to Ishiguro’s position on the ground thatWittgenstein speaks of objects having signs as their representatives,which he reads as meaning that the object is independently existing andmust be referred to in language. But I argue that the relation of represen-tativeness is not a relation of reference. Thus one can maintain both thatobjects must have names as their representatives, and that the form ofthe object is revealed by the propositional context in which the name ap-pears. It is the meaning that is thus revealed, and such meaning involvesthe recognition, through linguistic contexts, of the form of the object.19

Debates Concerning the Tractatus 175

17. A similar approach is advanced in B. McGuinness, “The So-called Realism of Wittgen-

stein’s Tractatus.,” pp. 60–74.

18. H. Ishiguro, “Use and Reference of Names,” p. 107.

19. Similarly, Pears argues against Ishiguro’s interpretation that Wittgenstein allows for a

determination of an object through a definite description. Thus an object cannot be correlative

4. Pictures

A proper understanding of Wittgenstein’s so-called “picture theory” is afundamental crossroads in grasping the significance of the Tractatus as awhole. In my account I aim to address a fundamental interpretativeproblem which I see as forcing false issues on the Tractatus. This is theattempt to think of the book as an effort to provide a thick, substantiveaccount of the relation between language and reality. The first question,then, is whether we have in the Tractatus a theory of picturing.20

E. Anscombe presents the problem of the Tractatus as follows: “It isclear enough . . . that the principal theme of the book is the connectionbetween language, or thought, and reality. The main thesis about this isthat sentences, or their mental counterpart, are pictures of facts.”21 Simi-larly, P. M. S. Hacker writes:

Philosophy, as practiced in the Tractatus, has one overarching goal—torender an account of the essence of the world . . . the overarching goalis pursued by searching for the essential nature of the proposition.Once this is revealed, all lesser philosophical problems will solvethemselves. The key to the search is the notion of depiction . . . ThePicture Theory of the Proposition contains Wittgenstein’s answer.22

176 Signs of Sense

to all the sensical contexts in which its name appears, since the object is identified by certain

contingent, factual properties that it actually possesses. This criticism also seems to me mis-

guided. Indeed, there is no problem in saying things about the object, attributing to it proper-

ties through a description, but this does not reveal what the object is, it does not reveal its form.

Thus a definite description cannot give us a grasp of what the object is.

20. The view that the Tractatus provides a substantive theory of the relation between lan-

guage and world originates in Russell’s Introduction to the work: “The essential business of

language is to assert or deny facts. Given the syntax of a language, the meaning of a sentence is

determinate as soon as the meaning of the component words is known. In order that a certain

sentence should assert a certain fact there must, however the language may be constructed, be

something in common between the structure of the sentence and the structure of the fact. This

is perhaps the most fundamental thesis of Mr Wittgenstein’s theory” (p. x).

What allows Russell to speak, for example, of a fundamental thesis concerning picturing is

his focus on the agreement of structure between the picture and reality. Thus he ignores Witt-

genstein’s claim that there must be at bottom an identity of form between language and reality.

More precisely, Russell seems to use form and structure interchangeably.

21. E. Anscombe, An Introduction to Wittgenstein’s Tractatus, p. 19.

22. “The Rise and Fall of the Picture Theory,” in I. Block, ed., Perspectives on the Philosophy

of Wittgenstein.

I view this notion—that providing an account of the relation of languageand world is a central task of the Tractatus—as inimical to our grasp ofthe other issues of the book, for it obliges us to think of the realm of lan-guage as essentially distinct from that of reality. According to that view,certain forms of metaphysical realism can be attributed to Wittgenstein.Alternatively, Wittgenstein is presented as a linguistic idealist. In thatidealist picture, securing the relation between language and the worldbecomes the essential task of the metaphysical subject (through a theoryof projection). Consequently, such an account of picturing colors ourunderstanding of the subject, and ultimately of the ethical point of theTractatus as a whole.

The problems encountered with the account of picturing are relatedto the misunderstandings I have noted with regard to Wittgenstein’s no-tion of form. A proper grasp of his use of form makes us realize that atthe deepest level language and world are one. One might ask what pointthere is then in an account of picturing if an identity of form of languageand world is assumed from the start. If that is the case, what is there toexplain? Indeed, if it is correct that no substantial theory of the relationof language and world is at stake, then the whole point of the account ofpicturing is precisely to make us realize that we discover our worldthrough language; that form conditions our making of sense and it has tobe recovered to reveal the possibilities of our world. Thus what is atstake in properly describing picturing is not a theoretical project butrather an attempt to lay the ground for an ethical imperative in language.

The emphasis on identity of form of language and world brings outthe equiprimordiality of language, of a world of objects and of the sub-ject. What there is reveals itself through language, and it is in languagethat the subject finds itself in the world. Such an approach to the ac-count of picturing allows us to view it as directing us to a task of recov-ering meaning rather than as providing a theoretical framework of theworking of language. It thus sheds light on our understanding of thetask of the Tractatus as a whole. This deflation of the account of pictur-ing is in line with the understanding that the Tractatus cannot be a sub-stantial bit of theorizing, precisely because at the end Wittgenstein de-mands that we throw away the ladder.

It is significant that many accounts that seek for a substantive answerto the question of the relation of language to reality fail to take this claimof identity of form seriously. Thus in P. M. S. Hacker’s Insight and Illusion

Debates Concerning the Tractatus 177

we are told that a metaphysical conception of the harmony between lan-guage and reality is implicit in the Tractatus. He even contrasts such aconception with Wittgenstein’s later view in which everything happensat the level of grammar.23 D. F. Pears similarly avoids the claim of iden-tity and opens a gap between objects and language: “[Wittgenstein’s]view was that a form is the possibility of a certain combination of ob-jects, and he thought that these possibilities are taken up and expressedby language, not by acquaintance and naming but by the kind of osmo-sis that he describes in the picture theory.”24 This comment reveals thatpart of the problem in Pears’s account of picturing derives from his mis-interpretation of the notion of form. Pears thinks of form as a possiblestructure, rather than as the possibility of structure. Thus even if anidentity of form is acknowledged at the basis of representation, there isstill a need to coordinate the possibilities of objects with possibilities inlanguage by means of a substantive relation.25 If, on the other hand, wewere to take form as a whole space of possibility, then the identity ofform would not need to be supplemented by a further correlation be-tween language and world.26

178 Signs of Sense

23. P. M. S. Hacker, Insight and Illusion (2nd. ed.), pp. 116–118.

24. D. F. Pears, The False Prison, vol. 1, p. 116.

25. “If a structure is going to count as a picture, it is not enough that it should realize a cer-

tain possibility—every structure does that: it must also be related in a certain way to what it de-

picts. It follows that pictorial form is partly derivative and partly intrinsic. An example will

make the two aspects of pictorial form clear, taking the intrinsic first. A fleck of paint is put on

a canvas at a certain point, and that realizes a possibility which, of course, existed before it was

realized, namely the possibility that the point chosen on the canvas should be that color. But if

the possibility is going to count as a pictorial form, it must be linked to the possibility that in

the scene depicted the point that is correlated with this bit of the canvas should be that color

too. That is the derivative aspect of pictorial form.” Ibid., p. 130. Remaining with the analogy

to painting, and also thinking of the history of modern art, I would suggest that form, insofar as

it has to do with the possibility of a picture, is something like color itself, rather than a particu-

lar color, possible or actual. There is then no relation between picture and world but only iden-

tity of form.

26. In his “Pictures, Logic and the Limits of Sense,” Thomas Ricketts refers to many of the

central terms I distinguish in my interpretation of the account of picturing. Yet he also avoids

the strict understanding of the identity of form between picture and world. He claims that there

is a need for a coordination of the possibility of combination of objects with those of names:

“There is for a language only the single rule that projects the sentences of that language onto

reality, onto states of affairs (see 4.0141). The rule does this by coordinating names and the

ways that names can form sentences with objects and the ways that objects can form states of

One possible way of acknowledging Wittgenstein’s claim about theidentity of pictorial form of picture and world while avoiding its conse-quences is to think of it as providing only very general, merely formalconditions of identity. Thus form is dissociated from objects. It does notprovide an understanding of what a thing is. Hacker’s understanding ofform, which I described above, leads to such a reading:

To know the meaning of . . . a simple name is to know what object is itsmeaning. To know an object is to know all its possible occurrences instates of affairs, i.e. its internal properties . . . The logical syntax of aname must mirror the form of the object which it names. For namestoo have both form and content. Their content is their meaning. Theirform is their logico-syntactical combinatorial possibilities.27

I note that Wittgenstein does not say that a name has form and content,as if these were two separate elements that are put together to form aname. He writes, “An expression is the mark of a form and a content”

Debates Concerning the Tractatus 179

affairs. The coordinations spoken of in the 2.15’s are thus thick, nonextensional correlations

made by the rule of projection for a language. It is these thick correlations that constitute sen-

tences as models of reality, that give names feelers so that sentences composed of those names

are laid like measuring sticks against reality” (p. 75).

Ricketts recognizes that there is also a shared form between the picture and reality, but

thinks there is a need for a further projection rule so that the specific combinatorial properties

of names can match those of objects. This results from the fact that alternative arrangements

could equally well represent a certain arrangement of objects. For example: “We can specify a

general rule that projects arrangements of blocks on the scene of the accident by assigning

blocks to cars and stipulating that the relative spatial positions of the blocks are to represent

that the cars they name at the time of the accident had the same relative spatial positions . . . Al-

though this rule of projection is salient, it is not the only one. We might use an arrangement of

blocks to represent cars to stand in the mirror image of this arrangement” (ibid.).

This example of a permutation that retains the isomorphism of structure seems to demand

the introduction of an additional act of projection into the account of picturing, thus the postu-

lation of a thinking subject that must essentially exist for picturing to work. That subject must

do something for the picture to represent. But is that the case? We can appreciate the problem

in Ricketts’s account if we avoid thinking of one picture representing reality and rather con-

ceive of a specific language, a notation. It is in the context of such a notation or system of signs

that Wittgenstein introduces the notion of projection. It is indeed possible to think of a nota-

tion in which a certain arrangement should be read as a mirror image of the arrangement of

things in the world, but this just means that form is reflected in that notation differently than in

other more “straightforward” notations. There is still complete identity of form and no need for

a further act of correlation.

27. P. M. S. Hacker, Insight and Illusion (2nd. ed.), p. 20.

(3.31). Furthermore, for Wittgenstein content means propositional con-tent, rather than the object which is the meaning of a name. (See, for ex-ample, 3.13: “‘The content of a proposition’ means the content of a prop-osition that has sense.”) I take it then that when Wittgenstein stressesthat an expression is the mark of a form and a content, he means that theexpression, insofar as it is part of a proposition that states a fact, func-tions to give us a content. It marks a form when it is considered in rela-tion to other propositions, when its internal properties are brought out.This is precisely similar to the case of objects that are said to be form andcontent. Insofar as they occur in facts they determine content, that is,material properties. Insofar as we know them as possibilities of combi-nation, they determine a form. So the form that is at stake in 3.31 is pre-cisely the form of the object, and not a merely syntactical form to whichthe meaning of the object is to be added.

Since Hacker’s interpretation makes no connection between the picto-rial form and uncovering the form of objects, it requires that we assumea further relation between names in the picture and objects in the world.The merely formal signs must be filled with content. This leads to what Isee as a problematic distinction imposed on Wittgenstein’s account be-tween a syntax which is ‘merely formal’, that is, empty of content, and asemantics that fills it with content.

P. M. S. Hacker identifies Wittgenstein’s use of the notion of projectionwith establishing meaning for names:

Understanding a proposition requires . . . knowledge of the correlationbetween its constituent names and the objects they name. This will bethe case either if I have endowed the name-signs with a Bedeutung bycorrelating them through a mental act with elements in my experience,or alternatively if they have been explained to me by means of elucida-tions . . . Either way a mechanism of a psychological nature is generated toproject lines of projection onto the world.28

Thus the harmony Hacker invokes between language and world is ulti-mately secured by the subject, who injects meaning into empty formalstructures. As he puts it in the first edition of Insight and Illusion:

The view that the skeleton of language only takes on flesh and bloodthrough occult mechanisms—that the logical syntax, which is a priori

180 Signs of Sense

28. P. M. S. Hacker, Insight and Illusion (1st. ed.), p. 51, my emphasis.

determined, is given a semantic dimension by means of a hypotheticalpsychological process which the natural science of psychology mustinvestigate—is implicit in the Notebooks. Only in thought do signs be-come symbols, for it is only in thought that a method of projection issupplied.29

In the second edition we find the same idea expressed in connectionwith a transcendental willing subject rather than an empirical subject:

That such configurations in thought or language, actually represent(and do not merely contain the possibility of representing (TLP 3.13)is a function of the will, of the metaphysical self . . . It is a mental act(albeit of a transcendental self, not of the self that is studied by psy-chology) that injects meaning or significance into signs, whether inthought or in language. One might call this conception ‘The Doctrineof the Linguistic Soul’, for it is the soul that is the fountainhead of lan-guage or representation.30

Hacker’s position on form, pictures, and projection thus leads him togrant a very substantive role to the subject in securing the functioning oflanguage.31 While the activity of injecting meaning into signs cannot beidentified with any empirically recognizable process, it remains never-theless the case that the transcendental self is necessary for language toacquire meaning. The Tractatus turns out to contain a thick transcen-dental psychology of the faculties. A tension arises between such a sub-stantive theorizing and Wittgenstein’s clear stricture against the possibil-ity of sensically asserting any such theory. Any commitment to such

Debates Concerning the Tractatus 181

29. Ibid., p. 47.

30. P. M. S. Hacker, Insight and Illusion (2nd. ed.), p. 75.

31. Hacker develops his understanding of the subject, as the subject that supplies meanings

to empty signs, into an interpretation of solipsism: “Anything which I can understand as lan-

guage must, as it were, have a substance as well as an appearance. The appearance is the propo-

sitional sign, spoken or written. The substance is the mental accompaniment. The substance of

language must be supplied by me. ‘Things acquire “Bedeutung” only in relation to my will’ is

not an ethical principle, but a semantic one. This thin semantic route to linguistic solipsism,

i.e. the identification of language with my language, is paralleled by a semantic route to the

metalinguistic soul as the analogue of the metaphysical self. For the self which thinks the

method of projection cannot, so it might seem, be captured by the language it creates. The

metalinguistic soul, is, as it were, the blind spot upon the retinal image to which nothing in the

visual image corresponds.” Insight and Illusion (1st. ed.), pp. 76–77.

theorizing will create a serious problem when attempting at the end tothrow away the ladder.32

There is a further reason to oppose this conception of the subject asthe source of meaning when one attempts to relate Wittgenstein’s viewsin the Tractatus with his later criticism of mentalism. Indeed, the sup-posed reliance on a mental act to secure the relation between thoughtand the world seems to such interpreters as Hacker to stand in starkcontrast with Wittgenstein’s later critique of mentalism. Hans-JohannGlock, apparently adopting Hacker’s view of the matter, writes: “[TheTractatus] remains wedded to the doctrine that it is the mind whichgives meaning to language by breathing life into sounds and inscriptionsthat would otherwise be dead . . . Wittgenstein [later] criticized the viewthat thinking is a mental process which accompanies speech and en-dows it with meaning.”33

It is indeed possible that the early Wittgenstein upheld doctrines thatwere so strongly opposed to his later views, but I think that we shouldseek a more nuanced account of the distinction between the various pe-riods of Wittgenstein’s philosophizing. My interpretation of picturingand in particular of projection as the reflection of the space of form inthe logical space of signs is intended to avoid these assumptions aboutmental acts that accompany our use of signs. Thus it also allows us torecognize the affinities between Wittgenstein’s early and late thinking,despite appearances to the contrary.

5. Logical Syntax

In developing Wittgenstein’s understanding of the relation betweenmaking sense and recognizing meaning I have claimed that there is an

182 Signs of Sense

32. When discussing Hacker’s account in “Wittgenstein and Idealism,” Bernard Williams is

fully aware of this tension and expresses the sense that the apparent discovery of the transcen-

dental self must be recognized as provisional: “The sense in which [the subject] is a limit, also

means that at the limit, it is nothing at all.” Quoting 5.64, Williams adds: “Indeed, granted this,

I find puzzling why Wittgenstein can say (5.641) that there really is a sense in which philoso-

phy can talk about the self in a non-psychological way. But I take this to mean that philosophy

can talk about it the only way in which by the end of the Tractatus, we find that philosophy can

talk about anything: that is to say, not with sense.” B. Williams, Moral Luck (Cambridge: Cam-

bridge University Press, 1981), p. 146.

33. Hans-Johann Glock, A Wittgenstein Dictionary (Oxford: Blackwell, 1996), p. 358.

essential element of passivity in our relation to meaning. Meaning is notours to make, it is not arbitrarily determined, but rather something toassume or recognize in language.

The question of discerning what is ours to make and what we mustrecognize in language is elaborated in Wittgenstein’s distinction betweenthe sign and the symbol. Hence interpretations that emphasize humancontrol over the generation of meaning will in general avoid recognizingparticular features of the symbolic order. This is, I think, typical ofCarnap’s adoption of the Tractatus in his Logical Syntax of Language.Carnap explicitly thinks of the Tractatus as a source of inspiration for hisview:

It is Wittgenstein who first exhibited the close connection between thelogic of science (or “philosophy,” as he calls it) and syntax. In particu-lar, he made clear the formal nature of logic and emphasized the factthat the rules and proofs of syntax should have no reference to themeaning of symbols . . . Wittgenstein’s view is represented, and hasbeen further developed by the Vienna Circle, and in this part of thebook I owe a great deal to his ideas. If I am right, the position heremaintained is in general agreement with his, but goes beyond it in cer-tain important respects.34

Although Carnap’s account in The Logical Syntax of Language is notproperly speaking an interpretation of the Tractatus, a consideration ofthe problems in Carnap’s development of Wittgenstein’s thought canlead to valuable insights about the central aims of the Tractatus. An im-portant aspect of Carnap’s account in The Logical Syntax of Language isthe complete freedom he allows in the postulation of the rules of syntaxand the consequent determination of meaning on the basis of such pos-tulation: “let any postulates and any rules of inference be chosen arbi-trarily; then this choice, whatever it may be, will determine what mean-ing is to be assigned to the fundamental logical symbols.”35

Thus for Carnap it is our choice of rules of syntax that determineswhat our fundamental terms mean. This stands in sharp contrast towhat I see as Wittgenstein’s view, according to which symbols are not de-terminable arbitrarily but rather are the reflection of our use of signs,

Debates Concerning the Tractatus 183

34. R. Carnap, The Logical Syntax of Language, p. 282.

35. Ibid., p. xv.

that is, they reflect the form of objects in our use of language. Signs in-deed contain much that is arbitrary, but such arbitrariness disappears asone brings out the symbolic form.

Even as one considers the form of our means of representation, it is inno way conventional. One could say that the form of representation isdetermined by the understanding of the possibility of representation assuch. This is elaborated in Wittgenstein’s account of picturing, particu-larly in the idea that the form of representation must be identical with theform of facts. There is no significant conventionalism in Wittgenstein’sunderstanding of language.

This point may elucidate the difference between Wittgenstein’s claimthat logic is not part of the constitution of reality and the position takenby the positivists. Carnap writes in his “Intellectual Autobiography”:

For me personally, Wittgenstein was perhaps the philosopher who, be-sides Russell and Frege, had the greatest influence on my thinking. Themost important insight I gained from his work was the conception thatthe truth of logical statements is based only on their logical structureand on the meaning of the terms. Logical statements are true under allconceivable circumstances; thus their truth is independent of the con-tingent facts of the world. On the other hand, it follows that thesestatements do not say anything about the world and thus have no fac-tual content.36

In the Logical Syntax of Language Carnap takes this insight to mean thatthe logic of a language is to be identified with syntax and that it is con-ventional. Whereas Wittgenstein, as I understand him, uses that insightto point to a perspective on the world apart from logic. Carnap indeedwould readily adopt a distinction between the logical and the factual,but for Wittgenstein the critical distinction is the one between facts inlogical space and objects. The turn to the object is part of the legacy ofthe Tractatus that positivism could not accept, for it is related to the ap-pearance of nonlogical internal relations between propositions, some-thing akin to the traditional notion of the synthetic a priori.

This central distinction between Wittgenstein and Carnap is also re-lated to another crucial point of difference in their views concerning thepossibility of a meta-perspective on language. Indeed, in Carnap’s view,

184 Signs of Sense

36. R. Carnap, “Intellectual Autobiography,” in P. A. Schilpp, ed., The Philosophy of Rudolf

Carnap, p. 25.

the essential freedom of syntax is possible precisely because we can de-termine a standpoint from which all those different languages can be de-scribed:

The sentences, definitions, and rules of the syntax of a language areconcerned with the forms of that language. But, now, how are thesesentences, definitions, and rules themselves to be correctly expressed?Is a kind of super-language necessary for the purpose? And again, athird language to explain the syntax of this super language and so on toinfinity? Or is it possible to formulate the syntax of a language withinthat language itself? . . . We shall see later that without any danger ofcontradictions or antinomies emerging it is possible to express the syn-tax of a language in that language itself, to an extent which is condi-tioned by the wealth of means of expression of the language in ques-tion.37

That possibility seems to constitute Carnap’s solution to the problemposed by Wittgenstein’s distinction between saying and showing. Car-nap finds it inadmissible that logical form cannot be said. He thus elabo-rates on Russell’s suggestion,

that every language has, as Mr. Wittgenstein says, a structure concern-ing which, in the language, nothing can be said, but that there may beanother language dealing with the structure of the first language, andhaving itself a new structure, and that to this hierarchy of languagesthere may be no limit. Mr. Wittgenstein would of course reply that hiswhole theory is applicable unchanged to the totality of such languages.The only retort would be to deny that there is any such totality.38

By claiming that the description of the syntax of a language can be ex-pressed in that language itself, Carnap believes he avoids the regress thatworries Russell. But both Carnap and Russell miss Wittgenstein’s deep-est intentions—that form is not the postulation of rules for the use ofsigns but rather something that must be recovered through the recog-nition of internal relations between the various propositions we use.Wittgenstein’s notion of showing emphasizes that meaning is revealedthrough language, and that we can never control the appearance of suchmeaning but are required to be attentive to it. The idea of a meta-lan-guage is thus revealed to be allied with a conception of the control of

Debates Concerning the Tractatus 185

37. R. Carnap, Logical Syntax of Language, p. 3.

38. B. Russell, Introduction to the Tractatus, p. xxii.

meaning, with the possibility of anticipating meaning by making it theresult of human conventions that are completely surveyable and de-scribable. It is in this difference of sensibility between Carnap or Russelland Wittgenstein that one must locate the real force and point of Witt-genstein’s use of the notion of showing, his emphasis on what expressesitself in language and is not ours to construct or control.

A further issue arises from Russell and Carnap’s attempts to addressthe say-show distinction in the Tractatus. It concerns the place accordedto everyday language in Wittgenstein’s thought. If, indeed, the distinc-tion between the sign and the symbol is a distinction primarily betweenwhat is arbitrary in language, what is up to us to determine, and what re-veals itself through language—what shows itself or is mirrored in lan-guage—then I think it is significant that The Logical Syntax of Languagepresents us with a conception of language in which the possibility ofstipulating rules of syntax is taken to an extreme. This stands in starkcontrast to Wittgenstein’s notion that form reveals itself in language. Italso can be contrasted with the necessity of accepting language, which Isee as the first step in Wittgenstein’s lifelong turn to everyday language.

6. Everyday Language

Everyday language certainly occupies a central place in Wittgenstein’slater philosophy, but can the seeds of that conception already be dis-cerned in the Tractatus? Part of what hinders us from attributing to Witt-genstein the affirmation of everyday language is that he invokes the needto devise a logically adequate notation to remedy the defects of ordinarylanguage. Understanding this idea hinges on making the proper distinc-tion between sign and symbol, as well as between the logical space ofrepresentation and the space or form of objects.

As I have argued, Russell has misunderstood Wittgenstein’s positionon both those issues. It is not surprising then for him to conclude thatthe elaboration of a logically perfect language (as opposed to a notation)is what Wittgenstein requires to remedy the logical defects of everydaylanguage:

In order to understand Mr. Wittgenstein’s book, it is necessary to real-ize what is the problem with which he is concerned. In the part of histheory which deals with symbolism he is concerned with the condi-

186 Signs of Sense

tions which would have to be fulfilled by a logically perfect language. . . He is concerned with the conditions for accurate symbolism, i.e.form symbolisms in which a sentence ‘means’ something quite definite.In practice, language is more or less vague, so what we assert is neverquite precise . . . Mr. Wittgenstein is concerned with the conditions fora logically perfect language—not that any language is logically perfect,or that we believe ourselves capable, here and now, of constructing alogically perfect language, but the whole function of language is tohave meaning, and it only fulfills this function in proportion as it ap-proaches to the ideal language which we postulate.39

The first thing to note is Russell’s assertion that the problem of languagehas to do with the level of meaning, with the sign’s capacity to mean any-thing at all. This is quite different from Wittgenstein’s emphasis, whichis that the defects of ordinary language are a matter of notation, not aquestion of the capacity of language to signify at all. Russell’s problem isto devise a language that can secure signification, which for him means acomplete devaluation of ordinary language. Wittgenstein’s problem is tomake the signification inherent in ordinary language perspicuous, what-ever it is. As he puts it in the Notebooks: “My method is not to sunder thehard from the soft, but to see the hardness of the soft.”40

In his “Critical Notice,” F. Ramsey points out that Russell’s assump-tion that Wittgenstein’s theory is concerned with the construction of alogically perfect language “is not an infallible guide to Mr. Wittgenstein’smeaning,” and that “in general [Wittgenstein] seems to maintain thathis doctrines apply to ordinary languages in spite of appearance of thecontrary.”41 But Ramsey himself might not have grasped the role that or-dinary language plays for Wittgenstein. It is one thing to claim that thedoctrine of the Tractatus applies to ordinary languages, and another tosee something like language in its everydayness as a standard of sig-nificance. Moreover, Ramsey speaks of ordinary languages (in the plu-ral), apparently referring to such languages as English, French, Hebrew,etc. But Wittgenstein uses the term in the singular, showing that he isconcerned with the everyday or the ordinary in language as such. Theaffirmation of everyday language, at this stage of Wittgenstein’s think-

Debates Concerning the Tractatus 187

39. Ibid., p. x.

40. NB, p. 44.

41. F. Ramsey, “Critical Notice of L. Wittgenstein’s Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus,” in I. M.

Copi and R. W. Beard, eds., Essays on Wittgenstein’s Tractatus, p. 34.

ing, is tantamount to the affirmation of language as it stands, in contrastto attempts to devise a perfect language or to discover a ground of mean-ing that would secure the proper functioning of language.

The possibility of affirming language as it stands depends on recog-nizing the impossibility of a mistake at the symbolic level, that is, theimpossibility of what is usually called a category mistake. In her discus-sion of nonsense, Cora Diamond has shown extremely convincinglyhow the very notion of a category mistake is confused.42 Her claim thatthere is no informative nonsense, although mainly made in relation tothe interpretation of the ending of the Tractatus, is crucially relevant tothe question of the affirmation of everyday language.43 For what standsin the way of such an affirmation is precisely the notion that we have totake care of logical defects at the symbolic level.

The intuition that there are no logical defects in language is expressedearly on in Wittgenstein’s Notebooks, when he writes that “Logic musttake care of itself.” Such a claim is, I take it, equivalent to the claim thatwe cannot make mistakes in logic (5.473). That is, logic is not ours ei-ther to use correctly or to use incorrectly—it takes care of itself.

Yet Wittgenstein’s claim here could still be taken to refer only to thesystem of truth-functional and quantificational logic, to what I havecalled the logic of facts, which is how Pears reads it:

Logic is a self-contained system which can be validated only fromwithin. Its formulae, therefore, must be completely different from fac-tual sentences, which have to measure up to something outside them-selves, the contingent layout of the world . . . If logical formulae aretautologies, logic really does take care of itself, because tautologies donot depend on anything that happen in the world. They are not hos-tages to contingency.44

There is of course a clear contrast between statements of facts (all thatcan be said) and tautologies. But I take it that Wittgenstein extends theinsight that logic takes care of itself to the very form of signification aswell, to the identity of form between the symbol and the object. Indeed,that insight appears in the Notebooks in the context of the discussion ofsignification, or of the relation of sign and thing. “Once more: logic must

188 Signs of Sense

42. See C. Diamond, “On What Nonsense Might Be,” in The Realistic Spirit.

43. Ibid.

44. D. Pears, The False Prison, vol. 1, p. 22.

take care of itself. A possible sign must also be capable of signifying. Ev-erything that is possible at all, is also legitimate. Let us remember the ex-planation why “Socrates is Plato” is nonsense. That is, because we havenot made an arbitrary specification, NOT because a sign is, shall we say,illegitimate in itself.”45 This passage is repeated almost identically in theTractatus at 5.473. It is then followed by the claim that “In a certainsense, we cannot make mistakes in logic.” It is clear from the contextthat this remark elucidates something important about signification. It isprecisely signification, that is, meaning, that takes care of itself. There isan inherent aboutness in language, an intentionality that does not de-pend on our intentions but rather takes care of itself.

The Tractatus does not mean to determine what the world mustbe like for language to be possible. But the attempts made by variouscommentators to provide a self-evident ground of language testify thatWittgenstein’s insight that language takes care of itself has not been un-derstood. These attempts—which have involved, for instance, charac-terizing a priori what the simple objects must be—run counter to Witt-genstein’s imperative to recognize the meaning inherent in everydaylanguage, to recognize what takes care of itself. This is why Wittgensteinfollows 5.473 with a remark on Russell’s introduction of the notion ofself-evidence into logic: “Self-evidence, which Russell talked about somuch, can become dispensable in logic, only because language itselfprevents every logical mistake” (5.4731).

7. Realism or Idealism

The assumptions made concerning the nature of simple objects, the na-ture of picturing, and in general the relation between language andworld determine to a large extent whether a given interpretation con-ceives of Wittgenstein’s position as, broadly speaking, realist or idealist.

D. Pears presents Wittgenstein’s position as essentially realist: “TheTractatus is basically realistic in the following sense: language enjoyscertain options on the surface, but deeper down it is founded on the in-trinsic nature of objects, which is not our creation but is set over againstus in mysterious independence.”46 The mysterious independence of the

Debates Concerning the Tractatus 189

45. NB, p. 2.

46. D. Pears, The False Prison, vol. 1, p. 8.

object, hence the realism Pears attributes to the Tractatus, results in partfrom the inability to appreciate the fact that the form of objects is indeedmirrored in language. Pears’s emphasis on inferential relations as thesole component of form does make it wholly mysterious how preciselyobjects are operative in determining what can be done in language, orwhat the limits of language are.

Interpretations that take Wittgenstein’s view in the Tractatus to be re-alist usually contrast it unfavorably with his later philosophical sensibil-ity. Thus Pears presents Wittgenstein as a clear case of what he calls “un-critical realism”:

nothing is said about the way in which we manage to go on using aname correctly after its original attachment to an object. The assump-tion is that, if that problem arises, the nature of the object will take careof it . . . Our minds contribute nothing positive at this point and thereis no admixture of intellectual labor. Now the objects of the Tractatusare the only ultimate constituents of the world, and so this account ofthe way in which they acquire and keep their name is intended as ageneral explanation of the attachment of language to the world. It iswholly un-Kantian, a clear paradigm of uncritical realism.47

Pears argues that in the name-object relationship, “the object is thedominant partner in the relationship, and its inherent possibilities de-cide whether the name thereafter represents it.”48 But it is hard to squarethis statement with his earlier claims. For one thing, if the object is en-tirely devoid of internal features, how can language trace its inherentpossibilities? Moreover, if the object is entirely unfamiliar, as Pearswould propose, one can hardly imagine how the “human” side of thatrelationship ever manages to follow the dominant partner. In these con-ditions it is not surprising that Pears regards Wittgenstein’s realism asuncritical, and the relation between names and objects as a kind of mys-terious “osmosis.”

Considering the affinities of Wittgenstein’s and Schopenhauer’s think-ing can shed light on the former’s relation to idealism. Those affinitiesare treated in D. Wiener’s Genius and Talent. He argues that “the Tractatus

190 Signs of Sense

47. Ibid., p. 9.

48. Ibid., p. 111.

accepts Schopenhauer’s ‘world as representation’, but rejects the ‘worldas will’”:49

The argument of the Tractatus can be neatly mapped onto The World asWill and Representation. The limits of my language mean the limit ofthe world as my representation. There is no secret passageway from theworld as representation to the thing-in-itself. Schopenhauer’s meta-physics of will is a nonsensical effort to speak about the thing-in-itself;only the first book should have been written; the second should havebeen passed over in silence.50

Such a diagnosis of the nature of Wittgenstein’s achievement overlooksthat he establishes a fundamental distinction between the form of repre-sentation (which is the form of facts) and the form of objects. Trying tograsp the thing-in-itself is indeed a nonsensical effort. But Schopenhauerallows for relating to the world as will through identifying with theobjectification of the will in appearance. It is in that sense that Wittgen-stein directs us to meaning beyond the form of representation, or con-ceives of the subject through identification with such meaning. Thiscalls for identifying with the appearance of meaning in the world, be-yond the structuring effects of the subject of representation, beyondwhat Schopenhauer would think of as the realm of the principle of suf-ficient reason. It is the appearance of groundless meaning and our essen-tial passivity in respect to that meaning that allows, in Wittgenstein’sview, for the transcendence of representation.

A problematic form of idealism appears, I think, in Hacker’s under-standing of what Wittgenstein inherited from Schopenhauer. He too seesthe influence as restricted to the structuring activity of the transcenden-tal subject and identifies Wittgenstein’s understanding of the truth in so-lipsism with Schopenhauer’s transcendental idealism:

Wittgenstein’s solipsism was inspired by Schopenhauer’s doctrines oftranscendental idealism. These he adapted to his own peculiar tran-scendental form of ‘theoretical egoism’ . . . They express a doctrinewhich I shall call Transcendental Solipsism. They involve a belief inthe transcendental ideality of time (and presumably space), a ratherperverse interpretation of the Kantian doctrine of the unity of apper-

Debates Concerning the Tractatus 191

49. D. Weiner, Genius and Talent, p. 11.

50. Ibid., p. 72.

ception together with the acceptance of Schopenhauer’s quasi-reifica-tion of the unity of consciousness, and other related and obscure theo-ries about ethics, the will, aesthetics, and religion. Wittgenstein’soriginality in the matter lies in his attempt to dovetail these doctrinesinto the sophisticated account of representation with which most ofthe Tractatus is concerned.51

By adopting only the first part of Schopenhauer’s idealism one finds one-self affirming something like the transcendental egoism that is always adanger for an idealistic position. But the ethical standpoint involves go-ing beyond the specular predicament of the transcendental subject. It in-volves the essential passivity of the subject in relation to the appropria-tion of meaning, which is registered in Wittgenstein’s Notebooks in suchclaims as:

In order to live happy I must be in agreement with the world. And thatis what “being happy” means.

I am thus, so to speak, in agreement with that alien will on which Iappear to be dependent. That is to say: “I am doing the will of God.”52

The acknowledgment of the presence of that alien will makes the veryrecognition of the body of meaning a recognition of life or will beyondthe perspective of representation. It is only the renunciation of controlof the world by means of representation that opens an ethical perspec-tive in our relation to meaning.

I would therefore like my interpretation to avoid both idealism and re-alism. What I want to avoid in the realist picture is the notion that ob-jects are independent of language, that they exist on their own, and thatlanguage in some way must correspond to them. Objects, I would argue,are given through language, indeed through the fundamental identity oflanguage and world at the level of form. But, as against the idealist pic-ture, I would also like to avoid making the object a product of our struc-turing subjectivity. What I emphasize, following Wittgenstein, is the wayin which the object cannot be anticipated; that is, the object is givenonly through our recognition of the internal relations in language. Therecognition of objects, of meaning, rather than its projection or determi-nation, is viewed as the central feature of subjectivity.

Instead of metaphysical realism, I attribute to Wittgenstein what

192 Signs of Sense

51. P. M. S. Hacker, Insight and Illusion (2nd. ed.), pp. 99–100.

52. NB, p. 76.

C. Diamond calls a realistic spirit. Its highest achievement is the open-ness of the human subject to experience that cannot be anticipated,openness in the face of the drive to impose false necessities on experi-ence. Instead of an idealistic position, I attribute to Wittgenstein the no-tion that truth of solipsism involves the recognition that true subjectiv-ity depends precisely on assuming the impersonal limits of experience,that is, in being realistic in the sense described above. One could say thatthe realistic spirit and the truth in solipsism are one.

8. Solipsism and the Subject

Wittgenstein’s conception of the subject is often discussed in relation tohis remarks on solipsism. Traditionally, the force of the solipsistic posi-tion depended to a large extent on a broadly empiricist picture of sensa-tion and acquaintance. It is such a picture that enables the world to beidentified with my experience.

This brings out the difficulty in assessing Wittgenstein’s idea thatthere is a truth in solipsism, for he is concerned with limits as given bylanguage. This makes it difficult to place an ‘I’ in relation to the limits oflanguage.53 Language seems essentially to have limits that are imper-sonal. This recognition leads D. Pears to claim that Wittgenstein intro-duced solipsism in the Tractatus “as a failed attempt to impose a per-sonal limit on language. It is true that language is limited, but only in ageneral, impersonal way: anything we can say is a truth function of ele-mentary sentences mirroring arrangements of objects.”54

The problem with dismissing solipsism is that Wittgenstein clearlyclaims that there is a truth in it. How can we express that truth in rela-tion to language? One possible response to this problem is to take theobjects of the Tractatus to be indeed objects of acquaintance. Thus wecan rehearse the solipsistic predicament even in the midst of language bythinking of our relation to the objects that are the ground of the possibil-ity of representation. We could then interpret Wittgenstein as advancingsomething like the claim that a speaker of language is acquainted onlywith the contents of his own mind and therefore has something like aprivate language. This interpretation is based on reading 5.62 as claim-

Debates Concerning the Tractatus 193

53. Thus the desire to adhere to the traditional account of solipsism might lead interpreters

to misread Wittgenstein’s account of objects, that is, precisely to view them as sense data.

54. D. Pears, The False Prison, vol. 1, p. 153.

ing that I alone understand my language. As J. Hintikka has pointed outin “On Wittgenstein’s ‘Solipsism,’” this reading seems to result from anambiguity in the German text.55 It probably should be read as saying thatit is in language alone that I reach understanding.

Acknowledging that there is only one language can lead to an alterna-tive interpretation of what Wittgenstein means by the truth of solipsism.Thus Mounce writes: “There is, as it were, a truth behind solipsism, butit cannot be stated and solipsism is the confused result of trying to do so.The truth is not that I alone am real but that I have a point of view of theworld which is without neighbors.” This last claim, properly under-stood, amounts to saying that “there is no language but language andtherefore no conception of the world other than the one that languagegives.”56 Thus the very idea of neighbors is revealed to be nonsensical. Itremains to be explained in what way this is the truth ‘behind solipsism’;for according to that interpretation, the truth ‘behind’ solipsism couldalso be the truth ‘behind’ realism or ‘behind’ any position. According tothis interpretation, nothing would justify Wittgenstein’s attempt to ex-press the truth of solipsism in terms of the world being my world.57

An alternative understanding of the relation between solipsism andacquaintance which does not depend on the assumption of privatemeaning is given by J. Hintikka and M. Hintikka in their InvestigatingWittgenstein. They think of the objects of acquaintance as the ground ofshared meaning in language, but at the same time as objects that must begiven to the subject, that thus can be said to be mine: “If we construeTractarian objects as objects of acquaintance, the only objects I have arethe objects of my acquaintance. And if these objects define the world,then the world cannot but be my world. Hence Wittgenstein’s qualifiedsolipsism becomes not only understandable but positively predictableon this interpretation.58” Such a reading can apparently be supported byWittgenstein’s references to the visual field in his account of the subject.But this would be using a figure to make a literal claim about Wittgen-stein’s ontology. Just as the figure of the picture in Wittgenstein’s discus-

194 Signs of Sense

55. Mind, 67, pp. 88–91.

56. H. O. Mounce, Wittgenstein’s Tractatus, pp. 91–92.

57. Hacker’s elaboration of solipsism in relation to a transcendental subject suffers from

similar problems, for there is no clear sense in which that transcendental subject can be identi-

fied with an “I.”

58. J. Hintikka and M. Hintikka, Investigating Wittgenstein, pp. 65–66.

sion of representation is not to be identified with a visual picture, so theuse of the visual field to elaborate the concept of limits does not implyonly the field of our senses.59

Moreover, J. and M. Hintikkas’ account raises the following problem:our understanding of the perspective on experience which can be called‘mine’ depends on how we elaborate the notion of limits. In the firstplace, it depends on whether we think of such limits in terms of facts orobjects. Thus if we try to speak of limit in terms of facts, it will be all thefacts that I, as an empirical self, have encountered in my life; facts thatdefine the limit or my perspective on experience. It of course makessense to speak of someone else’s perspective in that way. But this is pre-cisely the reason that it is problematic to identify those limits with thelimits of the world. If, on the other hand, we think of the limits of lan-guage in terms of the grammar of the objects given to us, if we construeacquaintance in a broader phenomenological sense, then to have experi-ence is to recognize possibilities. But this implies that the limits are notdetermined by the facts I have encountered. The limit becomes a whollyimpersonal one, and it no longer makes sense to speak of the limit as in-trinsically my perspective on experience. I have emphasized repeatedlythat it is that latter notion of limit that comes into play in Wittgenstein’sdiscussion as he speaks of the limits of my language meaning the limitsof my world. (5.6)

In her “The Uncaptive Eye: Solipsism in Wittgenstein’s Tractatus,” J.Floyd presents an interpretation of Wittgenstein’s discussion of solip-sism which seems to me in many ways extremely accurate. She particu-larly emphasizes his anti-apriorism: “Any attempt to completely fix ordemarcate the form of the so-called ‘elementary propositions’ without al-lowing for the full role of the ‘and so on’ fails, ending in nonsense . . .genuine ‘logical syntax’ is a matter of use.”60

Solipsism turns out, for Floyd, to be the last defense of apriorism:“The appeal to my meaning, to a private mental act or self-consciousperception of an intention, is just one more attempt to lay down general

Debates Concerning the Tractatus 195

59. D. Pears has convincingly criticized the reading of Wittgenstein’s treatment of solipsism

as supporting the identification of objects with objects of acquaintance by pointing at the uses

Wittgenstein makes of the visual field. The important thing is that it serves as a figure not

merely for the total field of the solipsist’s senses, but for the question of the limits of language as

such.

60. J. Floyd, “The Uncaptive Eye: Solipsism in Wittgenstein’s Tractatus,” p. 10 (Draft).

conditions on meaning.” She thus views all of Wittgenstein’s elaborationof specific topics, including his discussion of solipsism, entirely dialecti-cally.

While I fully agree with Floyd’s assessment of Wittgenstein’s anti-apriorism, it seems to me that he does aim to point at a truth of solip-sism. I attempt to show how both the anti-apriorism, the sense thatmeaning in the world cannot be determined in advance, and the sensethat the world is my world can be brought together. This requires inter-preting the appearance of the individual subject by means of the idea ofthe appropriation of meaning. This makes subjectivity, the possibility ofattaining authentic selfhood, correlative precisely with the attunementto meaning that is not determinable in advance of experience, but never-theless provides the form or limits of experience.

It is significant that Floyd interprets the ethics of the Tractatus as “pri-marily concerned with the personal as opposed to the public or the theo-retical.”61 Basing herself in part on Wittgenstein’s biography and on hisdiary entries from the period of the writing of the Tractatus, she recog-nizes in his life a fundamental struggle with loneliness. She takes thispersonal dimension as evidence that there is “a kind of solipsism haunt-ing the Tractatus. But it is a personal, not a transcendental or metaphysi-cal one.” Floyd thinks of Wittgenstein’s response to this sense of isola-tion in the following terms: “I believe that one ‘deep need’ Wittgensteinsaw wrongly gratified in idealism and solipsism was a wish for a total ab-sorption in the world and in life, in the feeling of there being no space,no gaps, between the language I understand, the world I contemplate,and the life which I live.”62

This formulation captures something essential in Wittgenstein’s un-derstanding of the release from metaphysics. Nevertheless, I think thatconceiving this absorption in the world merely as a personal attitude tolife fails to take into account that Wittgenstein also thinks of it throughhis understanding of language, as the recognition of meaning in theworld. And such meaning, the condition of experience, is wholly imper-sonal. The identification with meaning in the world can sustain authen-tic self-understanding only if it is nonpersonal, that is, only if it consti-tutes an identification with the limits of meaning as such.

196 Signs of Sense

61. Ibid., p. 27.

62. Ibid.

Floyd’s interpretation leaves no room for the possibility of such iden-tification, because she does not think it possible to make sense of thenotion of the limits of language in the Tractatus. She argues that anyconcept of limit imposes an a priori structure on the world, and thusgoes against Wittgenstein’s innermost convictions. My elaboration of therealm of objects and of the form of objects is intended precisely to enableus to think of limitation without identifying it with the a priori and thesystematic.

9. Ethics

Many of the problems of interpretation concerning the place of the sub-ject in the Tractatus affect the account given of the ethical. Thus Witt-genstein’s claim that facts do not provide the ground for value is taken tomean that values are to be identified with the attitudes of a subject to-wards the facts.63 H. O. Mounce, for example, writes: “The facts do notsolve ethical problems; they can only give rise to them. The solutions arefound in the attitudes one adopts towards the facts. But Wittgensteinmeans all the facts, psychological as well as physical.”64 This positiongives rise to many questions. In what sense do facts give rise to problemsat all? If we take seriously the idea that a fact is merely the configurationof things, no essential problem seems to arise from things being config-ured in such and such a way rather than another. Facts, one might say,do not solve any ethical problems, but precisely for the same reason theydo not give rise to them either. If a fact could give rise to an ethical prob-lem, it could also solve it. Wittgenstein writes that “The facts all contrib-ute only to setting the problem, not to its solution” (6.4321). But I takeit that setting the problem does not mean giving rise to the problem.Facts are in that sense entirely indifferent to what is higher.

A further question raised by Mounce’s account is: what is an attitude

Debates Concerning the Tractatus 197

63. This is often perceived as a problematic dead end of the Tractatus’ conception of ethics.

Thus, for example, P. Johnston writes: “Here Wittgenstein’s investigation comes to a dead-end;

unable to discover the basis of action in the facts, he is forced to look elsewhere. Thus in the

Notebooks he considers the notion of the will and treats this as the origin of our actions. How-

ever, since the world is motivationally inert he transports the will to beyond the world . . . Thus,

ethically speaking, what our actions are taken to reflect is the transcendental relation of world

and will—something of which one literally cannot speak.” Wittgenstein and Moral Philosophy,

p. 78.

64. H. O. Mounce, Wittgenstein’s Tractatus, an Introduction, p. 97.

toward the world, and in what sense is it not part of psychology? Howcan we understand the act of a subject involving a shift of attitude to-ward the world? What does such a shift include? If we speak of an em-pirical self, then such a shift is just another psychological fact in theworld. But psychological facts are supposed to be part of what onechanges one’s attitude toward. Conversely, if it is the transcendental sub-ject which is shifting its point of view on the world, how can such a sub-ject relate to the essentially personal dimension of ethics? How can sucha metaphysical subject be said to be happy or unhappy?

Consistent with his position, Mounce rejects as a mere analogy the af-fective dimension that is explicit in Wittgenstein’s understanding of thewill and its relation to the world: “We must be careful, however, not tomisread Wittgenstein’s analogy. In speaking of the world of the happyman, he is of course referring obliquely to a common phenomenon. Theman with a happy temperament looks on the bright side, accepts thevery fact that throw the unhappy man into despondency. It is importantto see, however, that this is merely an analogy.”65

The assumption that speaking of the happiness and unhappiness ofthe subject is merely an analogy is a symptom of the difficulty in ex-plaining what exactly a shift of attitudes amounts to, and in what senseaffects that seem to be always psychologically determined can have any-thing to do with a transcendental subject that stands outside the world.But for Wittgenstein such affects are surely real, for he relates them tothe reward and punishment that pertain to the ethical (6.422). There isindeed a serious problem in elaborating the relation of pleasure and painto Wittgenstein’s conception of ethics. For pleasure and pain seem to beessentially related to particular aims of our empirically determined will.Wittgenstein clearly does not hold the position that identifies the good-ness of an action with its consequences understood in terms of provid-ing pleasure and removing pain, since he speaks of the will as alteringthe world as a whole.

Mounce’s problem then starts with his juxtaposition of a world of factagainst a transcendent subject and leads to the impossibility of explain-ing the nature of a relation to the world as a whole which involves an af-fective dimension. This can be overcome only by construing the subjectas essentially in a world. The fundamental affects that pertain to the sub-

198 Signs of Sense

65. Ibid., p. 96.

ject are then determined by the dimension of this being in the world. Myattempt to consider a psychology that has to do with the very existencein the world or in language is intended to merge both the individual per-spective and the universality of language, as well as allow for an affectivedimension as an essential dimension of existence in language. The sub-ject is not outside the world but is essentially determined through as-suming the limits of the world.

However, in order for such an account to be possible at all, it is neces-sary to replace the talk about a shift in attitude with an elaboration ofhow language contains within itself the duality of perspectives that canexplain our task of assuming meaning. I have done this by systemati-cally distinguishing between the perspective of facts and that of objects.What is at stake in ethics, then, is not a shift of attitude, a shift that as-sumes that in some unexplained way we see or interpret the facts differ-ently; rather, the subject is understood as essentially related to the move-ment between perspectives opened by language itself. The perspective offacts is indeed valueless, but that of the object gives us the form of ourworld, of our possibilities of existence. This is not a matter of our atti-tude but rather of what there is. Our attitude can at most be described asone of acknowledgment or avoidance of those possibilities.

To speak of a psychology of our very existence in language mightseem extremely problematic. Indeed, what are the manifestations ofsuch a psychology? What are feelings or affects that pertain to the worldas a whole, or to language as a whole? As I have argued, a central compo-nent of that psychology, against which the recovery of meaning truly ap-pears as the entrance into a significant world, is the urge to nonsense.That is, the generation of nonsense is not a mere mistake but the mani-festation of a fundamental human urge to avoid the conditions of lan-guage. The last parts of my interpretation concern the manifestation ofthat drive.

This conception of the ethical might seem rather remote from any-thing pertaining to ethics. Indeed, I think that in the Tractatus Wittgen-stein directs us to something that is more fundamental than what weusually think of when we construe the ethical as a particular domain ofphilosophy. This is an attempt to locate the source of value in the veryplace where we uncover the limits of language, that is, where we recog-nize through language what there is. It is a perspective that locates thefundamental normative dimension in the revelation of the meaningful-

Debates Concerning the Tractatus 199

ness of phenomena. This connection of ethics with ontology, or with be-ing in language as such, can be thought as being founded on an impera-tive of meaningfulness.

The claim that Wittgenstein’s ethics is essentially religious can tosome extent justify basing ethics on the imperative to meaning. This is afeature of P. Shields’s interpretation, in which he attempts to link Witt-genstein’s concern with drawing limits to language and his concern withethics. The broad outlines of this interpretation construe Wittgenstein’sinjunction to accept the arbitrariness of grammar as an ethical or evenreligious injunction, as ‘doing the will of God’. Shields quotes the pas-sage cited above from Wittgenstein’s Notebooks:

In order to live happy I must be in agreement with the world . . . Andthat is what ‘being happy’ means.

I am thus, so to speak, in agreement with that alien will on which Iappear to be dependent. That is to say: ‘I am doing the will of God.’66

Shields relates this form of ‘amor fati’ to the acceptance of the arbitrari-ness of grammar in language. Although I agree with the general direc-tion of his interpretation, I think nevertheless that it must be supple-mented with an account of how logical form in the Tractatus comesto have such a significance. Indeed, Shields’s interpretation of the un-groundedness of grammar accords well with Wittgenstein’s PhilosophicalInvestigations, but less obviously with the Tractatus. Much needs to besaid as to how we find in the Tractatus the access to that level of realitywhich we need to accept. My attempt to think of objects as being re-vealed apart from the form of justification pertaining to the logic of factsmeans to convey that what is revealed is something like the unground-edness of meaning. We stand beyond justification, accepting what isgiven, for the sphere of justification is precisely that determined by thelogic of facts. Acceptance of the object thus goes beyond the demand forjustification and proof. Contrary to Shields, I think that such an accep-tance is essentially the acceptance of everyday language. Indeed, part ofwhat is involved in acknowledgment and avoidance of meaning must in-clude an elaboration of our relation to everyday language. For whatneeds to be acknowledged must be, in a sense, in plain view. This is pre-cisely why, as Shields himself emphasizes, the problem is a problem of

200 Signs of Sense

66. NB, p. 76.

will rather than knowledge. To avoid making the recovery of meaning aproblem of knowledge, we must not open a gap between language as it isand another ground of meaning which we do not yet have or know. Thisis how the idea of groundlesness in language relates to the affirmation ofthe everydayness of language.

With regard to Wittgenstein’s account of the ethical, it is necessary toaddress his understanding of what cannot be said, which is too often re-duced to a simple dichotomy between what can be said and what canonly be shown. While all agree that Wittgenstein thinks of the unsayablein two central contexts, that of the logical and that of the ethical, howboth these notions can be encompassed in one account is largely left un-clear. As I understand it, this is where there is a need for a third notion,that of manifestation.67 Manifestation reveals to us primarily our veryexistence in language or the very existence of language for a subject. It isintrinsically related to the recognition of the significance of nonsense.

The notion of manifestation must be distinguished from that of theshowing of form. Confusing showing and manifestation can lead to vari-ous misreadings of how the ineffability of logic relates to ethics in theTractatus. Thus identifying the unsayability of the ethical with Wittgen-stein’s sense that objects can only be shown can lead to a claim such asthe one presented by J. and M. Hintikka in their Investigating Wittgen-stein:

some of Wittgenstein’s pronouncements on ethics and aesthetics . . .can be understood on the basis of the idea that the objects of theTractatus are objects of acquaintance in Russell’s sense, conjoined with

Debates Concerning the Tractatus 201

67. The following passage by P. R. Shields is an example of how the tripartite distinction be-

tween saying, showing, and manifestation is reduced to the dichotomy between saying and

showing: “Wittgenstein’s reasoning for treating logic and ethics along similar lines begins with

the supposition that the world is composed entirely of facts, . . . and he proceeds to point out

that what is ‘non-accidental,’ which would include both logical necessity and ethical value, is

united in being not of the world. When Wittgenstein asserts that ‘what we cannot talk about we

must pass over in silence,’ he is not carelessly introducing an ambiguity between two kinds of

‘must,’ but drawing a limit which shows the unity of a logical and an ethical demand.” Logic

and Sin in the Writings of Ludwig Wittgenstein, p. 11.

In Glock’s A Wittgenstein Dictionary we find the same lack of distinction between showing

and manifestation: “The Tractatus has indeed two parts, a logical one . . . and a mystical one . . .

The real significance of the saying-showing distinction lies in the fact that it holds the two to-

gether by proscribing both propositions about the essence of symbolic representation and mys-

tical pronouncements about the realm of value” (p. 330).

a theory of value not unlike what is expressed in the famous last chap-ter of Moore’s Principia Ethica, . . . If these immediate objects ofMoorean valuable experiences—the emotional cousins of Russell’s andMoore’s sense-data—are among Wittgenstein’s objects in the Tractatus,it will literally be true that the world (the totality of objects) of a per-son who has valuable experiences is different from that of a personwho does not. This is precisely what Wittgenstein says of the differencebetween a happy and an unhappy person.68

It is symptomatic that here the world is identified with the sum of ob-jects, so that there might be objects of valuable experience in the worldof the happy man which do not exist in the world of the unhappy man.This interpretation fails to account for Wittgenstein’s idea that for theunhappy man the world as a whole seems to lose significance, whereasthe happy man’s world gains significance: “The world must so to speakwax and wane as a whole. As if by accession or loss of sense.”69

The idea that the existence of nonsense and of a drive to nonsense issignificant should be distinguished from the idea that nonsense in itselfconveys some meaning. Here I fully agree with Diamond’s interpretationthat nothing can be said or shown in nonsense (using both terms strictlyas I use them in my interpretation). But something is made manifest bythe existence of nonsense, and it is this manifestation that is at stake atthe end of the Tractatus.

10. The Significance of Nonsense

Broadly speaking, interpreters take two kinds of approaches to Wittgen-stein’s demand to throw away the ladder, that is, the demand to recog-nize the nonsensicality of the Tractatus itself. The first assumes that al-though the picture of the world, of language, of the subject, and of valuepresented in the body of the text is strictly speaking unsayable, thisunsayability is due to certain “technical” limitations of language.70 Thecomplex structure of reality supposedly presented by the text is never-theless grasped by the reader of the Tractatus, although it cannot be

202 Signs of Sense

68. J. Hintikka and M. Hintikka, Investigating Wittgenstein, p. 68.

69. NB, p. 73.

70. J. Conant divides the interpretations of that kind into four groups. See “Kierkegaard,

Wittgenstein and Nonsense,” in T. Cohen, P. Guyer, and H. Putnam, eds., Pursuits of Reason,

p. 198.

said.71 The second approach denies emphatically that anything can beshown by means of nonsense; it denies any distinction between illumi-nating nonsense and plain rubbish. In particular, it denies that we retainanything of the supposed picture of the world presented in the Tractatusafter throwing away the ladder.

Hacker’s interpretation of the Tractatus would seem to be in line withthe first approach to the final act of the Tractatus. He writes: “Wittgen-stein was quite correct and consistent; the Tractatus does indeed consistlargely of pseudo-propositions. Of course, what Wittgenstein meant bythese remarks (like what the solipsist means (TLP, 5.62)) is, in his view,quite correct, only it cannot be said. Apparently what someone means orintends by a remark can be grasped even though the sentence uttered isstrictly speaking nonsense.”72 The test as to whether the Tractatus isviewed as illuminating nonsense is the extent to which the interpreterattributes to the work substantive theses (which cannot be stated) aboutthe working of language or the constitution of the world. In Hacker’scase, the doctrine of the metaphysical subject that projects meaning intoempty signs is precisely such a substantive bit of theorizing. This issomething that cannot be consistently rejected at the end, for the inter-pretation is committed to its truth. If we want to throw away the ladder,we must construct an interpretation that does not leave behind any the-oretical commitments. The interpretation must lead us beyond the bookwithout any remainder.

Hacker therefore appears to be in an inconsistent position when hewrites: “The Tractatus itself, though a manifestation of our natural dis-position to metaphysics, is a justifiable undertaking which has beenfully discharged. It is not a prolegomenon to any future metaphysics, butthe swan song of metaphysics.” If indeed the Tractatus provides a correctpoint of view on the world that can only be indicated but not said, thenwhy should it be given up and discharged? Alternatively, if the Tractatusis a manifestation of our natural disposition to metaphysics, in whatsense is it a justifiable undertaking?

Debates Concerning the Tractatus 203

71. D. Pears, for instance, writes: “When Wittgenstein excludes the solipsist’s claim from

factual discourse, he implies that it literally lacks sense, but he does not imply that it is rubbish.

On the contrary, he allows that among the theses of metaphysics, all of which are literally

senseless, there are some that are acceptable for a deeper and more interesting reason than they

make successful claims to factual truth.” The False Prison, vol. 1, p. 164.

72. P. M. S. Hacker, Insight and Illusion (2nd. ed.), p. 26.

The second approach to the question of the nonsensicality of theTractatus is mainly elaborated in a series of essays by C. Diamond and J.Conant concerning the method of the Tractatus. In his “Kierkegaard,Wittgenstein and Nonsense” Conant writes: “If one argues . . . as I have,that the Tractatus undercuts a distinction between kinds of nonsense,then one will be forced to embrace what might, at first, appear to be anintolerable conclusion: namely, that when Wittgenstein says ‘nonsense’he means plain nonsense, and when he says ‘throw the ladder away’he means throw it away.”73 But the main problem encountered by this“austere” reading of the Tractatus is to explain what possible value theTractatus could have. This predicament is expressed by Cora Diamond:

I believe that the Tractatus takes what you might call an austere view ofnonsense. Nonsense is nonsense . . . And yet I do not believe that Witt-genstein’s consigning of ethical talk to the realm of nonsense should belikened to that of the positivists. But that leaves me with the task of ex-plaining how one can distinguish Wittgenstein’s view of ethics fromthat of the logical positivists, without giving up the ascription to himof what I have called an austere view of nonsense.74

Although I am inclined to some form of the austere view of nonsense, Idiffer from both Conant and Diamond in my understanding of the rela-tion of nonsense to the method and ethical point of the Tractatus. TheTractatus, I argue, points us to a task of the recovery of meaning, but cer-tainly not in order to dwell upon the meaning of the work itself, of thedistinctions presented in it. Rather, it opens onto the meaning embodiedin our use of language. Thus the Tractatus points beyond itself, but this“beyond” is in no way a realm of unsayable things that we grasp in si-lence. It is rather the scene of our lives and of our everyday use of lan-guage.

Furthermore, I think that my interpretation would support the claimthat from the perspective of the end the work should be treated asutterly nonsensical. But this claim must be understood in relation tothinking of the Tractatus as a whole. It is only when we try to grasp what

204 Signs of Sense

73. Ibid., p. 198. Conant’s understanding that one should not distinguish between kinds of

nonsense, i.e. between mere rubbish and nonsense that is in some way important, elaborates on

Cora Diamond’s extremely convincing treatment of those issues in her “Throwing Away the

Ladder,” “Frege and Nonsense,” and “What Nonsense Might Be.” See her The Realistic Spirit.

74. C. Diamond, “Ethics, Imagination and the Method of the Tractatus,” in R. Heinrich and

H. Vetter, eds., Bilder der Philosophie, p. 60.

the work as a whole aims to do that we can see it disintegrating intononsense. It is only by subordinating all that is treated in that work to itsoverall aim that the drive to nonsense manifests itself. There is no piece-meal nonsense in the Tractatus. This or that sentence taken by itself isnot nonsensical. The work shows itself to be nonsense only when it triesto express or elucidate the world as a whole. It then proves that it elu-cidates nothing.75 I would further say that the very recognition thatlanguage disintegrates in such a condition is itself of the utmost sig-nificance. It points to something, and to indicate that is itself part of thepoint of the Tractatus. Such a manifestation is internally related to ourbeing directed by the work to language as it stands. The recovery of theordinary scene of language is a return from the urge to nonsense.

Conant assumes that it is necessary to read the Tractatus carefully de-spite its being at the end revealed as utter nonsense. In his reading theTractatus is an illusion that is fleshed out and slowly unraveled: “theonly procedure that will prove genuinely elucidatory is one that at-tempts to enter into the philosopher’s illusion of understanding and ex-plode it from within.” The implication then is that “we are no longertempted to such theses ourselves—that we throw them away.”76

For Conant, in reading the Tractatus we start with a thesis which

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75. I remark in this context how deep certain misinterpretations of the Tractatus can be. I

have evoked the expression ‘the Nothing nothings’ to characterize the appearance of the drive

to nonsense, to form a connection between Carnap’s famous attack on Heidegger’s “What Is

Metaphysics” and Wittgenstein’s concerns in the Tractatus. The irony is, of course, that Carnap

takes himself to be the inheritor of Wittgenstein’s view, and this fuels his attack on Heidegger.

Whereas I think that Wittgenstein is in fact very close on this issue to Heidegger, as witness his

remark to the Vienna Circle on Heidegger quoted above.

76. J. Conant, “Kierkegaard, Wittgenstein and Nonsense,” p. 218. In the light of this de-

scription of the aim of philosophical teaching, I note the following: in the first place, the thera-

peutic method suggested seems to me to fit better Wittgenstein’s Philosophical Investigations,

where certain illusions are addressed locally, rather than as part of one totalizing movement.

I do not see that there are any such therapeutic achievements on the way of reading the

Tractatus. Both the issue of nonsense and the recognition that in our reading we are drawn into

nonsense come together toward the end of the book.

It would seem that a good form of therapy would at the end make us loosen our grip on

what has long been unattractive. This eventually does happen, but only because the end of the

Tractatus is such a serious and ultimate effort of expression. Moreover, it seems that the

Tractatus is not an example of a certain point of view that can be adopted and which is brought

to its patent nonsensical conclusions. It seems to be an effort to relate each and every philo-

sophical problem to a whole presented by the text.

expresses the fundamental (illusory) beliefs of the philosopher, andwe slowly unravel it until we end up with nonsense. But the Tractatusstrikes me more as a work that strives to express the highest beliefs ofthe philosopher, and in so doing precisely touches upon the limits of ex-pression. It expresses the fact that such limits are reached. If this is in-deed an illusion, then the force of the problem is that we are speaking ofan illusion that is constitutive of what is highest in human nature. Thepoint is not that we are no longer tempted to advance such theses our-selves, but rather that we understand this temptation as internal to ourexistence in language. To throw it away is to throw away something be-longing to human nature. The Tractatus leads the reader to the limits oflanguage. To bear witness to this tendency of the human mind is not justto present a piece of nonsense, but to present one’s highest beliefs so thatthey culminate in the recognition of the drive to nonsense.

It is significant that Conant speaks of the drive to metaphysics assomething that the philosopher (that is, the metaphysician) and notWittgenstein himself is drawn to, as if Wittgenstein were in some waybeyond that temptation, released from it; as if it belonged to the past ofthe Tractatus rather than to the very attempt at writing that constitutesthis book. My emphasis on the idea that the Tractatus is a truly enigmatictext, a “running against paradox” as Wittgenstein, quoting Kierkegaard,puts it, means precisely that we must recognize both that it constitutesWittgenstein’s highest effort of expression, and that it disintegrates intononsense when it touches upon the extreme.

This idea is related to the distinction suggested by Conant, and whichI also find myself inclined to make, between understanding the proposi-tions of the book and understanding the author:

The distinction implicitly drawn in section 6.54 of the Tractatus be-tween understanding the propositions in the book (which we are notasked to do) and understanding the author of the book (which we areasked to do) depends on this idea that although we cannot understandwhat an utterer of nonsense says, we can understand the utterer—i.e.,enter into the point of view from which this piece of nonsense appearsto say something . . . The goal here is not to grasp what the other says,but to make his impulse to these particular words humanly intelligibleto oneself.77

206 Signs of Sense

77. J. Conant, “Kierkegaard, Wittgenstein and Nonsense,” p. 218.

Conant does not see the use of the first person at the end as the appear-ance of Wittgenstein’s own voice. He sees it as determining a shift fromthe supposed understanding of the propositions to the understanding ofthe utterer of nonsense. But who is the utterer of nonsense? I take it thathere Wittgenstein occupies an exemplary position, he speaks for him-self. The Tractatus is, one might say, Wittgenstein’s self-analysis. This iswhat Wittgenstein expresses in the “Lecture on Ethics,” when he in-cludes himself among those who run up against the limits of language:“My whole tendency and I believe the tendency of all men who evertried to write or talk Ethics or Religion was to run up against the bound-aries of language.” He further stresses in his conversations with mem-bers of the Vienna Circle that speaking in the first person in that lecturewas something essential. I read this as meaning that what is expressed isa tendency of the human mind which cannot be denied or left behind,and which is exemplified by the Tractatus. It is only against nonsensethat significance is achieved. It is in that sense that Wittgenstein canclaim: “This running up against the limits of language is Ethics” (WVC,p. 68). Peace in philosophy is achieved in the midst of that struggle, notby avoiding it.78

A different way of making this point is to recall what Wittgensteinsays in his letter to Ficker I quoted in the Introduction. There he writesthat his book delimits the ethical from within. C. Diamond interpretsthis claim as follows: “Working from the inside of what can be said, wesee that in the totality of what can be said, nothing is ethical. And this isindeed put explicitly by Wittgenstein. He says that it is impossible forthere to be ethical propositions; ethics cannot be put into words.”79 Thisclaim is surely correct, but does it represent what Wittgenstein means bydelimiting ethics from within? It merely follows from the traditional dis-tinction between facts and values, together with Wittgenstein’s under-standing that to say something is always to represent a fact. In my read-ing, to delimit the ethical is to bring understanding to the limits oflanguage. We must truly work through the Tractatus as a whole to reachthat limit condition.

In order to give content to Wittgenstein’s intuitions concerning ethics,

Debates Concerning the Tractatus 207

78. I find that Stanley Cavell’s treatment of skepticism expresses this sense that the inner

struggle between metaphysics and the release from metaphysics are part of our human consti-

tution.

79. C. Diamond, “Ethics, Imagination and the Method of the Tractatus,” p. 60.

Diamond writes of certain views she is inclined to attribute to Wittgen-stein. She contrasts the characteristic position on ethics in the English-speaking tradition, according to which ethics is a particular branch ofphilosophy with a specific content, with Wittgenstein’s view that thereare no ethical propositions:

Just as logic is not, for Wittgenstein, a particular subject, with its ownbody of truths, but penetrates all thought, so ethics has no particularsubject matter; rather an ethical spirit, an attitude to the world and life,can penetrate any thought or talk. Wittgenstein, like some other writ-ers, speaks of two different as it were attitudes to the world as a whole;he refers to them as that of the happy and that of the unhappy. Thehappy and the unhappy as it were inhabit different worlds.80

But if indeed ethics pervades all of language, then language must itselfbe accounted for in such a way that it can bear such significance. Theremust be a perspective opened by language itself through which we canrecognize the significance of our world. In Diamond’s account, languageis elaborated primarily in relation to the perspective of facts. We find herthus having recourse, like Mounce, to the problematic idea that the atti-tudes of a subject “as it were” change the world.

Diamond gives another account of what she is inclined to say con-cerning Wittgenstein’s ethics by considering the idea of the indepen-dence of the world from the individual will. She views Wittgenstein’s re-marks on suicide toward the end of the Notebooks as pointing to aconception of the ethical that demands to accept what there is in theworld, and thus its highest prohibition is suicide.81 But we need to elabo-rate precisely in what sense the world is alien to the individual will.What is it that the individual has to accept? Can we accept anything butwhat is meaningful? If meaning or language is not at stake in this atti-tude of acceptance, we are in danger of falling into a problematicpsychological understanding of imaginary identification. But if it ismeaning in language that has to be acknowledged, then language must

208 Signs of Sense

80. Ibid., p. 61.

81. “If suicide is allowed then everything is allowed. If anything is not allowed then suicide

is not allowed. This throws a light on the nature of ethics, for suicide is, so to speak, the ele-

mentary sin. And when one investigates it, it is like investigating mercury vapor in order to

comprehend the nature of vapors. Or is even suicide in itself neither good nor evil?” (NB,

p. 91).

be indeed described in such a way as to open such a perspective onmeaning.

Having said that, it is important to emphasize that Diamond distin-guishes what she is inclined to say from what she ultimately says. She ac-knowledges that there is no way to translate such inclinations as werepresented in these two accounts of ethics above into terms that will notfall into nonsense. Analyzing later in the essay the locution “I am in-clined to say . . .” in the context of uttering sentences that appear to beethical but are recognized as nonsense, she writes: “Words like ‘Thisis what I am inclined to say,’ used to frame such sentences, may thusmark both that they are recognized by the utterer as nonsense, andthat that recognition does not involve their losing their attractiveness,their capacity to make us feel that they express the sense we want tomake.”82This is opposed to metaphysical propositions whose attractive-ness vanishes with the recognition of nonsense.

Diamond, it seems, attempts to keep together both the expression offundamental beliefs and the recognition that such an attempt is doomedto nonsensicality. Thus one might say that she distinguishes betweendifferent kinds of nonsense in relation to the utterer of nonsense—non-sense that, upon being revealed as nonsense, loses its attractiveness, andnonsense that retains it nevertheless. I would like instead to speak of thetask of writing that is demanded in order to exhibit something bothas the highest tendency of the human mind and as degenerating intononsense. It is this task of writing that Wittgenstein undertakes in theTractatus.

Debates Concerning the Tractatus 209

82. Ibid., p. 74.

Signs of Sense On Wittgenstein’s Dissatisfaction with the Tractatus

12

On Wittgenstein’s Dissatisfaction withthe Tractatus

My interpretation of the Tractatus can also shed light on Wittgenstein’slater dissatisfaction with the work, for it requires us to reassess the shiftboth in Wittgenstein’s understanding of logic and language, and in hisconception of the task of philosophy. In my view the seeds of Wittgen-stein’s later concern with grammar, everyday language, and the thera-peutic aims of philosophy can already be discerned in the Tractatus.

Here, however, I would like to discuss a specific problem that is usu-ally advanced as the reason for Wittgenstein’s shift from his early to hislater philosophy: the color exclusion problem. This problem is raised byWittgenstein in “Some Remarks on Logical Form,” the text of a lectureWittgenstein prepared but never presented.

According to the common view of this essay, Wittgenstein presents init his discovery of nontautological internal relations between simple ob-jects. The case of colors is taken as paradigmatic of such a discovery.Such an understanding of “Some Remarks on Logical Form” wouldseem to lay my interpretation of the Tractatus open to the following criti-cism: it cannot be the case that Wittgenstein had a concept of form thatwas as elaborate as I have attributed to him in the Tractatus. In particu-lar, he could not have had a concept of form that included nontauto-logical internal relations that constitute what an object is. In “Some Re-marks” Wittgenstein indeed seems to raise for the first time the notionof the existence of such internal relations, an admission that could beseen as paving the way for the transition to his later view of grammar. Inthis case grammar would be the spelling out of those internal relations,which are not strictly speaking logical (or not logical according to a nar-row Fregean or Russellian conception of logic).

210

So let us reconsider the problem of colors as it bears on internal rela-tions, starting with a claim Wittgenstein makes in the Tractatus:

For example, the simultaneous presence of two colors at the sameplace in the visual field is impossible, in fact logically impossible, sinceit is ruled out by the logical structure of color.

Let us think how this contradiction appears in physics: more or lessas follows—a particle cannot have two velocities at the same time; thatis to say, it cannot be in two places at the same time; that is to say, parti-cles that are in different places at the same time cannot be identical.

(It is clear that the logical product of two elementary propositionscan neither be a tautology nor a contradiction. The statement that apoint in the visual field has two different colors at the same time is acontradiction.) (6.3751)

This is the statement that Wittgenstein seems to refer to when he laterwrites in “Some Remarks”: “The mutual exclusion of unanalyzablestatements of degree contradicts an opinion which was published by meseveral years ago and which necessitated that atomic propositions couldnot exclude one another. I here deliberately say ‘exclude’ and not ‘con-tradict,’ for there is a difference between these two notions, and atomicpropositions, although they cannot contradict, may exclude one an-other.”1

But what exactly is the nature of and reason for Wittgenstein’s shift?The common view of the relation between Wittgenstein’s statement inthe Tractatus (6.3751) and his revocation of it in “Some Remarks onLogical Form” is advanced by D. Pears:

[Far-reaching analysis] pushes the level of complete analysis down-wards until there are no underlying facts left, but only objects devoidof internal structure. In other words, all the factual implications in asentence’s total demand are brought to the surface and included inwhat it says. The simple objects that remain, when logical analysis hasbeen completed, are the pivots on which all factual discourse turns.This is directly connected with his view of logic. He says that all neces-sity is logical necessity, reducible to the tautological combinability ofsentences. This view would have to be abandoned if it turned out thatsome necessary connections were embedded in the unanalyzable na-tures of things. For if that were the situation, the properties on whichthese exceptional necessary connections depended could not be ex-

On Wittgenstein’s Dissatisfaction with the Tractatus 211

1. SRLF, p. 35.

tracted and their names could not be included in the analyses of sen-tences mentioning the things that possessed them, and so the connec-tions themselves could not be represented tautologically. It is from thispoint of view that we should see his refusal in the Tractatus to treat col-ors as simple objects. If color words could not be analyzed, the undeni-able incompatibilities between colors would force him to retract hissweeping claims about necessity. In 1929 he gave up the thesis thatcolor-words are analyzable and allowed them to occur in elementarysentences. That amounted to an abandonment of the sweeping claimsmade about necessity in the Tractatus, and his more subtle account fol-lowed later.2

Pears starts from the assumption that there is an undeniable incompati-bility between colors, but he argues that such ascriptions must be fur-ther analyzed in order to reveal that incompatibility as a matter of logicalnecessity. Pears claims that “if color words could not be analyzed, theundeniable incompatibilities between colors would force [Wittgenstein]to retract his sweeping claims about necessity.” This implies that colorterms are logically complex and must disappear in the analysis. Further-more, their analysis will show us that there is indeed a logical incompat-ibility between two color ascriptions. In 6.3751 Wittgenstein argues in-deed that because the incompatiblity is logical, we have not reached thelevel of elementary propositions. But the question is, what does it meanfor Wittgenstein to reach that level of description in which the contra-diction disappears? Does it mean that color terms will disappear, or thatwhen we reach that level of description, we grasp the proper form of thespace of colors, say, in relation to time and space?

Indeed, Wittgenstein remarks in 2.0251: “Space, time, and color (be-ing colored) are forms of objects”; and further, in treating the form of de-piction of a picture: “A spatial picture can depict anything spatial, a col-ored one anything colored, etc. . . .” (2.171). This strongly suggests thatcolor has a form that is to be shown.3 And the showing of that form isprecisely the basis for the description in terms of elementary proposi-tions.

212 Signs of Sense

2. D. Pears, The False Prison, vol. 1, pp. 72–73.

3. E. Anscombe concludes from her reading of 6.3751 that elementary propositions cannot

be simple observation statements: “Indeed quite generally, if elementary propositions are sim-

ple observation statements, it is very difficult to see how what Wittgenstein says [in 6.3751]

can possibly hold good of them; for any proposition, which could reasonably be called a ‘simple

To make this clearer, consider the way Wittgenstein describes the ap-parent contradiction in physics. The claim that a particle has two differ-ent velocities is turned into a claim that a particle cannot be in two dif-ferent places at the same time; that is, particles that are in differentplaces at the same time are not identical. We might ask why we wouldthink of particles that are in different places at the same time as different.This seems to follows from the very form of space, time, and particles,that is, of what we will call space, time, or a particle. So, as we bring outthe form of space or of the existence of particles in space, we would ar-range such propositions in a formal series. The different terms of such aformal series can serve to derive a contradiction from a statement suchas “a particle has two different velocities at the same time,” but it is onlythe whole formal series that provides us with something of the form ofwhat we call the place of particles in space. This is made clear by the re-mark in the Notebooks on which 6.3571 is based:

A point cannot be red and green at the same time: at first sight thereseems no need for this to be a logical impossibility. But the very lan-guage of physics reduces it to a kinetic impossibility. We see that thereis a difference of structure between red and green.

And then physics arranges them in a series. And then we see how thetrue structure of the objects is brought to light.

The fact that a particle cannot be in two places at the same time doeslook more like a logical impossibility.

If we ask why, for example, then straight away comes the thought:Well, we should call particles that were in two places different, and thisin turn all seems to follow from the structure of space and of particles.4

I note that the true structure of the object is brought to light by such aseries. Moreover, as Wittgenstein points out, “we should call particlesthat were in two places different, and this in turn all seems to followfrom the structure of space and of particles.” That is, we understandwhat the object is, what its form is, what we call a place in space occu-

On Wittgenstein’s Dissatisfaction with the Tractatus 213

observation statement,’ one could find another that would be incompatible with it and pre-

cisely analogous to it logically.” An Introduction to Wittgenstein’s Tractatus, p. 27. I agree with

Anscombe that the objects need not be identified with objects of acquaintance, but this does

not mean that colors do not have a form that can be shown and symbolized in elementary prop-

ositions.

4. NB, p. 81.

pied by a particle, by presenting what we say in a formal series. That for-mal series is the basis for the representation of states of affairs in terms ofelementary propositions where the form of the objects (of space and par-ticles) is brought out in the notation. The logical incompatibility ap-pears between structures in the formal series, but the formal series as awhole is what brings out the form that should be reflected by elementarypropositions.5

Referring to the view of the Tractatus in “Some Remarks,” Wittgen-stein reiterates the claim that he has taken into account the internal con-stitution of entities: “I have said elsewhere that a proposition ‘reaches upto reality,’ and by this I meant that the forms of the entities are containedin the form of the proposition which is about these entities. For the sen-tence, together with the mode of projection which projects reality intothe sentence, determines the logical form of the entities” (p. 36).

It seems therefore that the problem presented in “Some Remarks”does not concern Wittgenstein’s discovery of internal relations that con-stitute the objects, but rather the distinction made between the form ofobjects—the internal relations that constitute the objects—and the logi-cal form of facts. Far from discovering the internal relations of objects,the statement of the problem assumes that distinction from the start. In-deed, the problem lies precisely in the assumption of a sharp demarca-tion of those two realms (a demarcation I presented in Chapter 6). In theTractatus Wittgenstein thought that he could clearly separate the rulesfor the logical constants that can be given in advance of experience andcharacterize the general form of representation, from the internal formthat can only be uncovered, as it were, by inspecting phenomena. WhatWittgenstein realizes and expresses in “Some Remarks” is that the gram-mar of the object and that of the logical constants are not separable, notindependent.

According to the Tractatus, which assumes that the grammar of factscan be separated from the grammar of objects, we are allowed to formthe proposition “A is red and A is green.” Since every conjunct is asensical proposition, and the conjunction of two propositions yields inturn a proposition, that conjunction must be allowable. Now, when such

214 Signs of Sense

5. In their Investigating Wittgenstein, J. Hintikka and M. Hintikka suggest a similar solution

to the color exclusion problem. Their solution is similarly motivated by the understanding that

Wittgenstein attributes form to objects and that form is the basis for the complexity of the fac-

tual.

an operation results in tautologies and contradictions, we are given al-lowable combinations with no content whatsoever. These are the sense-less, limit propositions. But the proposition “A is red and A is green”yields something that must be thought of as nonsense from the perspec-tive of the internal form of the object, yet is an allowable combinationfrom the perspective of facts. It is in this clash of perspectives that thereal problem arises.

This is why Wittgenstein states in “Some Remarks” that in such a casewe would have a truth table that contains only three rows. One sup-posed option of combination (according to the syntax of the logical con-stants) would be ruled out as nonsensical. This is what distinguishesthis case from the tautologies and contradictions which can be ex-pressed as standard truth tables despite their senselessness.

In his conversations with the members of the Vienna Circle, Wittgen-stein makes this aspect of the problem perfectly clear:

I used to have two conceptions of an elementary proposition, one ofwhich seems correct to me, while I was completely wrong in holdingthe other. My first assumption was this: that in analysing propositionswe must eventually reach propositions that are immediate connectionsof objects without any help from logical constants, for ‘not,’ ‘and,’ ‘or,’and ‘if’ do not connect objects. And I still adhere to that. Secondly Ihad the idea that elementary propositions must be independent of oneanother. A complete description of the world would be a product ofelementary propositions, as it were, these being partly positive andpartly negative. In holding this I was wrong, and the following is what iswrong with it. I laid down rules for the syntactical use of logical con-stants, for example ‘p.q’, and did not think that these rules might havesomething to do with the inner structure of propositions. What waswrong about my conception was that I believed that the syntax of logi-cal constants could be laid down without paying attention to the innerconnection of propositions. That is not how things actually are. I can-not, for example, say that red and blue are at one point simultaneously.Here no logical product can be constructed. Rather, the rules for the logi-cal constants form only a part of a more comprehensive syntax aboutwhich I did not yet know anything at that time.6

Here Wittgenstein clearly says that the problem lies in separating thesyntax of the logical constants from the inner relations of elementary

On Wittgenstein’s Dissatisfaction with the Tractatus 215

6. My emphasis, WVC, pp. 73–74.

propositions (that is, from the forms of objects). He is not discoveringhere for the first time the existence of such nonlogical inner relations,but is rather admitting to having assumed their independence from thesyntax of logical constants!

This description of the problem does not make it any the less acute.On the contrary, much of the argument of the Tractatus, as I presented it,depends on separating the form of our means of representation fromthe grammar expressing the form of the object. The very task of theTractatus, which is to provide an account of the general form of theproposition apart from the provision of specific examples of elemen-tary propositions, depends on that separation. The very idea that theTractatus could complete the task of exhibiting the grammar of ourmeans of representation while leaving the inner form of experience to beassumed by human subjects in the fabric of their lives seems to be prob-lematic. It is Wittgenstein’s distinction between the completion of thetask of logic and the later appropriation of the form of experience, andwith it the entire progression of the Tractatus, that need to be reassessed.

216 Signs of Sense

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Index Index

Index

Aesthetics, 8, 134Affect, 134, 143–144 . See also FeelingAgreement, 50, 176; and truth, 58–60; with

the world, 192, 200Analysis, 43–44, 68, Chapter 6 passim, 109–

111, 151; and the nature of objects, 168–171, 211–212

Anscombe, Elizabeth, 6, 21, 164, 176, 212Astonishment, 119, 144, 146–149Augustine, 144, 149

Benjamin, Walter, 13, 15

Carnap, Rudolf, 74, 135, 144, 205; TheLogical Syntax of Language, 1, 2, 111, 126,183–186; Aufbau, 126

Cavell, Stanley, vii, 8, 10, 207Complex, 42–43, 72, 81, 113, 172, 212Conant, James, 6, 202–207Conceptual notation, 81, 83, 89Conditions, 5, 11, 54, 162–163, 166, 172–

173, 177, 196, 199; as form, 40, 45–46; ofrepresentation, 59–62, 68; recognizing,105, 107, 111; conditionality of logicalnecessity, 131, 133; presence of, 137

Configuration, 36–40, 44, 197Creation, 15, 17, 56, 139–140

Depiction, 50, 52, 55–58, 64, 66, 103, 212Diamond, Cora, 6, 35, 90, 156, 188, 193,

202, 204, 207, 208–209Dreben, Burton, vii

Elementary propositions, 27–29, 32, 72, 168,171; and analysis, 42–43, 98; cannot beanticipated, 108–113; and the will, 133;and color exclusion, 211–216

Engelmann, Paul, 2, 4Enigmatic, xiii, xvi, 16, 136, 146–147, 206Ethics, 13, 16, 92, 164, 192, 196–201, 204,

209; ethical point of the Tractatus, 2–6, 8,Chapter 10 passim; and language, Chapter9 passim

Facts, 6, 7, 9, 12, 14–17, 91–92, 95, 98, 102,104–106, 114, 141–142, 161–167, 197–200; and logic, Chapter 1 passim; andobjects, Chapter 2 passim; representingfacts, Chapter 3 passim; propositonal signas fact, 63, 67–70; have no value, 124–129

Feeling, 126, 134, 137–141. See also AffectFicker, L. von, 3, 8, 23, 207Figure, xviii, 4, 10, 13, 22, 51, 52, 125, 141–

142, 150, 152–154, 194–195Finitude, 23, 137–142Floyd, Juliet, 7, 23, 154, 195–197Form, 31, 89, 129, 130, Chapter 11 passim;

of objects, Chapter 2 passim; pictorial,Chapter 3 passim; of signs, Chapter 4passim; symbolic, Chapter 5 passim; andanalysis, 92–102; recognizing, Chapter 7passim; and limits, 116–119; and colorexclusion, Chapter 12 passim. See alsoLogical form

Formal concept, 80–87Frege, Gottlob, xv, xix, 1, 21, 26, 30, 37, 40,

59, 68, 69, 74–76, 83–85, 87, 89–90, 94,115, 184, 204; Begriffsschrift, 4, 89;Foundations of Arithmetic, 72, 89

Freud, Sigmund, 51, 56Friedlander, Eli, 11, 144

Hacker, P. M. S., 4, 24, 51, 166–167, 176–182, 191–192, 194, 203

225

Heidegger, Martin, xxi, 1, 127, 135, 143–144, 149, 164, 205

Hintikka, Jaakko, 115, 162, 173–174, 201Hintikka, Merrill, 162, 173–174, 201Hylton, Peter, 25

Ishiguro, Hide, 175

Kant, Immanuel, xiii, xix, 1, 11, 21, 23, 45,117, 128, 131, 139, 150, 154, 190–191

Kierkegaard, Søren, 6, 144

Ladder, 5–6, 10–11, 13, 22, 146, 152–158,162, 202–204

Limits, 4, 8, 17, 22–23, 25, 121, 126–127,149–150, 155, 158, 193, 195–197, 206,207; and the subject, 112–117; ethics andthe experience of, 133–144

Logic, 1–8, Chapter 1 passim, 40–44, 47, 55–58, 62, 70, 72, 77–87, 89–98, 101–103,107–112, 114–115, 128–131, 169, 183–184, 188–189, 208

Logical constants, 57, 69, 71–72; are notrepresentatives of objects, 26, 29, 32, 42,57, 70, 91–92, 94, 96; are not functions,84–87; and grammar of objects, 214–216

Logical form, 37, 49, 57, 63, 69, 74–75, 200,214

Logical space, 28–31, 39, 56, 62, 74, 182

McGuinness, Brian, 8, 15–66, 143, 175Malcolm, Norman, 24Manifestation, 143, 201Meaning, 16–17, 26, 29, 50–51, 69–72, 75–

78, 86, 99–100, Chapter 7 passim, 115–117, 120, 129–130, 132–137, 143–144,148–153, 162, 167, 175–192, 195, 196,199–204, 208–209

Metaphysics, 2, 10, 13, 126, 147–148, 152–153, 156, 203, 206–207

Moore, G. E., 10, 144, 202Mounce, H. O., 156, 194, 197–198, 208Mystical, 11, 138–144

Name, 42–43, 78, 88, 109, 110, 173–175,178–180; vs. proposition, 68–73,

Nonsense, 17, 35, 54, 98, 108, 113, 121–122,162, 188–189, 195, 199, 201, 215;nonsensicality of the Tractatus, 5, 6, 21,

202–209; and formal concepts, 80, 83;significance of, 140–144, 148–153

Object, in states of affairs, 30–33; form of,Chapter 2 passim, 161–176; anddepiction, 50– 58, 179–180; name and, 69,70, 72, 73, 188; and analysis, 97–102,190–192, 110; and subject, 113–114, 117;grammar of, 210-–216

Ontology, 21, 28–29, 44, 79, 112, 200Operation, 29, 57, 85–87, 112Ordinary language, 88–91, 100–102,

Chapter 7 passim, 170, 186–189

Pears, David, 24, 44, 54, 66, 77, 143, 162,166, 168–171, 175, 178, 188–190, 193,195, 203, 211–212

Philosophy, 8, 10, 12–13, 90, 94, 97–98, 101,110, 114, 119, 144, 148–149, 150–154,182, 207–208

Picture, Chapter 3 passim, 61, 65, 105, 173–180; metaphysical, 21, 133, 142; proto-pictures, 77, 86, 87

Presentation, 50–57Projection, 63–67, 177–182, 214

Quantification, 75, 86–87

Ramsey, Frank, 165–166, 187Representation, 49–50, 55–62, 67, 69, 73,

78, 92–93, 104, 105, 107–108, 110, 112,114, 116–120, 128, 129–133, 184, 191–193, 214, 216

Representative, being a, 26, 50–57, 70, 72–73, 76–77, 91–92, 96, 101, 175

Ricketts, Thomas, 21, 26, 154, 178Russell, Bertrand, xv, xix, 1, 7, 21, 25–28, 30,

32, 37, 43, 51, 74–75, 83–84, 87, 89, 97–98, 109–111, 113, 115, 168–171, 173–174, 184, 189, 201–202; PrincipiaMathematica, 4; Introduction to theTractatus, 111, 176, 185–187

Schopenhauer, Arthur, xix, 93, 118, 120,129, 132, 190–192

Sense, 55– 60, Chapter 4 passim, 99–101,180; and meaning, Chapter 7 passim, 113,115–116; of the world, 123, 134, 138, 146

Senseless, 26, 83, 215

226 Index

Shields, Philip, 200–201Showing, 29, 55, 70, 78, 81, 83, 93, 101–

102, 110–111, 140, 143, 162, 167, 171,173–175, 185–186, 201, 212

Sign, Chapter 4 passim, 71–78, 81–84, 86–98, 101, 181, 183–188

Significance, 16–17, 48, 106–108, 117–118,124, 126–127, 133, 136–142, 150, 162–163, 199–202

Silence, 2–3, 15, 16, 24, 147–150, 153, 157Simple, 9, 25, 27, 29, 42, 43, 91–92, 96–102,

109, 113, 123, 168–173, 210–212Solipsism, 115–120, 191–196Space, 27, 63, 65–70, 75, 81, 85–86, 137,

182, 212–214; and form, 36–46, 166–167,178; pictorial, 50–59. See also Logicalspace

Speech, 154States of affairs, 72, 99, 167, 214; and facts,

Chapter 1 passim; and objects, Chapter 2passim

Structure, Chapter 1 passim, 65, 73, 75, 85,104, 109–110, 165–167, 172, 178, 211,213, 215; vs. form, Chapter 2 passim; andrepresentation, Chapter 3 passim

Subject, 14, 47–49, 51, Chapter 8 passim,127, 131–136, 139, 148, 150, 157, 158,162–165, 177, 180–182, 191–203, 208

Sublime, 11, 12, 125, 139Symbol, 54, 61– 62, 66, 70, Chapter 5

passim, 88–90, 92–93, 173, 183–186, 188

Truth, 9, 94, 96, 123, 143, 153; of pictures,58– 60; simple truth, 91–92, 102; ofsolipsism, 115–116, 120, 191, 193–194,196

World, the, xvii, xxi, 13–17, 21–26, 45–48,106–108, 161–164, 191–202, 205, 208;and the subject, Chapter 8 passim; as alimited whole, Chapter 9 passim; at theend of the Tractatus, Chapter 10 passim

Index 227