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Φ Unrestricted Philosophy - What is Space? Φ A Wittgensteinian-Waismannian Dissolution of the
Question of Space Copyright © 2006-2009 by C. L. Brown – UnrestrictedPhilosophy.com We begin with the following question: what
is space? In our asking this question we
understand this question along the lines of its being a “Socratic” question; in
other words, it is considered to be a question of essence, that being of space. Thus, in the initial moment space is something
at first glance which, by means of this very question’s being asked, is deemed
to be or at least is believed to be admissible in some way of (an) essence. In the Socratic tradition the essence of X is
what X “really” is, more particularly, it is that-about-X-which-makes-X-X, so to
speak; it is thought to be expressible by way of formal definition. Thus, for us, what can in response then be
taken as that which
would satisfactorily answer this question about space would then be the one,
formal definition of what is the essential, dare we say, makeup of
space considered as a thing in itself, so to speak. Apart from our making in this paper any
formal definition as to what space really or essentially is,
we would in this paper – the first in a series on the subject of space – simply like to explore how it is
possible that this particular question of the essence of space, i.e. “what is space?”, can rightly be
made to disappear. The dissolution of the question itself is
what interests us here: the freedom from its obsessive hold on us is what we
seek. It was none other than Ludwig
Wittgenstein and Friedrich Waismann who showed us a
way out of the bottle in which essence-seeking questions like “what is space?”
in particular and “what is X?” in general hold us captive. To their efforts we now turn. To begin again, we do thus re-ask the
question “what is space?” We do note
that in presenting a question such as this the more or less traditional
approach towards it has been to turn one’s attention towards the object of
interrogation, namely, in this case, space. Wittgenstein, at least in terms of how we
have assessed especially his later work, notes however that the peculiarity
which surrounds specific questions of the form “what is X?” quite often has
little to do with the object of interrogation and instead does have a lot to do
with the grammar of the word “X.” We ask
questions of the form “what is X?” because we have become puzzled or confused
over the grammar, or as Wittgenstein would prefer, the usage of the word
“X” in our everyday lives. In this
specific case it is thought that the everyday use of the word “space” is what has managed to
puzzle us.1
“It appears we don’t know what it means, and that therefore,
perhaps, we have no right to use it.”2 As a result of this we express
such confusion, such puzzlement with, in the words of Wittgenstein, the
“slightly misleading” question, in our case, “what is space?” Such a “question is an utterance of unclarity, of mental discomfort, and it is comparable with
the question ‘Why?’ as children so often ask it.”3 In
terms of such a question “we are up against one of the great sources of
philosophical bewilderment: we try to find a substance for a substantive.”4 It is perhaps favorable for us to know from
a historical standpoint that we are not the first to note the bothersome effect
a question of the form “what is X?” seems to have on us. One need look no
further than Augustine of Hippo for one of the better known instances of
this. In his Confessions XI.14 Augustine reveals a seemingly
instinctual familiarity with what is an innate notion of time, as what all of us probably do
have, and yet also the inability to literally account for what time is. “What, then, is time? I know well enough what it is, provided that nobody
asks me; but if I am asked what it is and try to explain, I am baffled.”5 It might seem based on Augustine’s reply that
as long as time remains for him at the subconscious level – as when “nobody
asks me” – “it”6 resides
below the threshold of perception free of any apprehension as to what “it” might really be. When asked to make the conscious effort to
explain or account for what time is, however, Augustine’s mind buckles, for all
of a sudden is time now indefinable. Why
is this? What has happened here? Our answer to this is that time, in the
mind’s conscious attempt to consider time objectively, gradationally evolved,
for lack of a better description, from a subconscious and hence unnamed if not unnameable form to, in
a very loose and generic sense of the word, something, if not in particular
then some thing – a schema of some sort, if one will. Likewise, “time” in the very question’s being
asked becomes entrenched as it were as the name of this so-called something. The latter here is of particular importance
to us, for it elucidates what is the basis of the so-called Augustinian theory
of language. With Augustine, as
Wittgenstein relates to us, “the individual words in language name objects.”7 It is as if every noun and every
noun substantive which is found in our language becomes as it were a common name of something. Accordingly,
to ask then “what is X?” is to be making implicit the notion that “X” the word
is or must therefore be a name of some sort.
In order then to be able to adequately
answer “what is X?” one first needs to actually, really acquire somehow either a or the thing
named “X.” Under the auspice of this
thinking, we can thus say that if asked “what is X?” we instinctively therefore
look for a bearer named “X.” In a problem
similar with Augustine and time and thus us with space, we can say that the
finding of a substantial bearer named “Space” can prove to be frustratingly
difficult. Where in the real, natural
world do we find a thing or even just something – anything for that matter –
named “Space”? Our answer is we don’t,8
and for us this is troubling. If
we reflect for a moment upon our predicament it might occur to us that a
possible remedy to our malady could begin to be found if we simply do not, upon
being asked the question “what is space?”, look for any thing, any object, any
bearer identifiable as “Space” in name.
While the very notion of one’s actual “looking” for something named
“Space” in the real world might be utterly absurd for some of us,
we do nonetheless mention it here as a sort of straw man for no other purpose
than to be at least mentioned by us before we subsequently, immediately dismiss
it. Our decision thus not to attempt a
search for an objective thing hence answer to this question can be justified if
we can recognize in it the flash point for our problem. According to Waismann9, in
this question it is the interrogative what
which is that which serves naturally as the source of tension for us. Such tension “arises out of a false grammatical
background, since to the word ‘what’ we imagine some ‘this’ to correspond or
expect some ‘this’ to be an answer.”10
In our imagining or expecting a this as our answer, we desperately set
out looking for a thing named “Space”, in other words a this to which or at which we can point and say of it “(this is)
Space.” To this end “one searches
compulsively for a meaning, a sense, and on finding no such thing, one supposes
that what is sought must be some ethereal essence.”11 All we know of the “ethereal” is
of the “queer role” which it plays in our philosophy, as “when we perceive that
a substantive is not used as what in general we should call the name of an
object, and when therefore we can’t help saying to ourselves that it is the
name of an aethereal object.”12 A
substantive’s not being used for what in general is the name of an object:
perhaps we are then in the words of Miller correct to “discover – to our
philosophical chagrin – that, though nominal, we do not generally use the
substantive as a nomen,
that is, to name an object.”13 This gives us confidence to say then that
“space” – when this word is used as a
name – is not used as the name of any
material object but rather as the name of an aethereal
one, the latter of which we know as being a subterfuge – a means of deceit for
something we are embarrassed as not really knowing.14 It stands to
reason then that any speculation on (the nature of) space in terms of asking
“what is space?” will not yield any underlying nature of any type of
substantial being.15 With this now understood we might be allowed
to excuse ourselves from searching for an object named “Space” when presented
with this question. After having now made the
argument that we ought not really look for an object or thing named “Space” because
“space” is not used as (and thus really is not then) the name of a material or
substantial thing or object, we ought to consider what Waismann
did pose as a “solution”, if it can be called one, to a question like ours. Let us take as
our lead in this Waismann’s comments concerning time
and in particular the question “what then is time?” The following insight is worth quoting at
length. But in fact
the question is similar to the question ‘What is time?’ In everyday discourse the word ‘time’ causes
us no difficulties. We say: ‘I have no
time’, ‘this is not the time for that’, ‘much time has passed since then’,
‘that takes time’, etc., etc. Now the
philosopher comes along and asks: ‘What kind of a thing is time really?’ From this question springs the conviction
that there must be some kind of deeper insight into the nature of time, some
grasp of its true nature. The
philosopher’s question suggests that people have never known precisely enough
what time is, that they have had only a rough and distant conception of it,
whereas he himself wishes to say absolutely precisely what it is. He then asks: Is time the same thing as the
events that take place in it? or is it the position of
the clock-hand? And if it is replied
that none of these is time itself, then the question arises ‘What then is
time?’ And now one seeks some
definition, e.g. ‘Time is the form of what happens’, ‘Time is the possibility
of change’, etc., whereas the simple truth is that just this whole loose and complex
pattern of speaking provides the true meaning of the word ‘time’ and that there
is nothing else to be done other than describe the complete grammar of this
word. If we are in a position to
understand and use the word in all its combinations and contexts, then we in
fact know exactly what time is and no formula can express it more exactly.16 Waismann’s proposal on how to cope
with what is Augustine’s famed question, that is, what is time?, is not in the
end to offer anything definite in response, in particular, to offer an account
which can or could be construed by someone as signifying a/the so-called
“essence” of time. An “answer” given in
such a form would, as referenced earlier in this paper, be a definition in that
a definition – as understood in the Socratic tradition – is an expression indicating essence.17 “The
form of what happens” and “the possibility of change”: these are two examples
of definition (definiens, actually) which Waismann at least mentions before summarily rejecting in
favor of what for him is “the simple truth” – that we know exactly what time is
and thus can answer if not at least sensibly respond in some way or another to
the question “what is time?” provided we know how to speak the language
of and in terms of “time.” It is
conceivable perhaps even anticipatable that one may look at all of this and
feel that what would be then Waismann’s
non-definitional attitude towards the answering of “what is space?”, namely,
the understanding of how to appropriately use the word “space” in its variety
of combinations and contexts, is nothing
more than a cop-out for a search for an essence, i.e. criterion, of or to space. To this charge we respond by reiterating that
we simply just do not find anywhere in the real world a real thing or object
named “Space.” We simply don’t;
thus, to assail Wittgenstein or Waismann or even us
for that matter for overriding the notion of definition as the preferred or
naturally precipitable form of answer as to what space is is to simply be in the wrong. Metaphysics may lead us in the search for
something hidden, or something substantial, or something essential, or
something real behind, say, the term “space”, but in Wittgenstein’s thinking at
least “philosophy simply puts everything before us, and neither explains nor
deduces anything. Since everything lies
open to view there is nothing to explain.”18 We invoke here the dictum that “essence is expressed by grammar.”19 By
this expression it may be meant by Wittgenstein that it is not a metaphysical evaluation of the content of the word, say, “X”
which we implement in order to arrive at a nontrivial understanding of what X is but
rather instead a description of how the word “X” has significance to us when we
confess “X exists” or simply “X is”,
respectively. Such a view precipitates
for us then the need to have an understanding of not only the context of
language which surrounds “X” but also, of course, a familiarity of the usage of
“X” within that context. It is precisely
this understanding and familiarity, in our case, with the word “space” which is
what Waismann would propose we must have in order to
know what space is. This really is the only
task in front of us, that is, to “describe the complete grammar of this word.”20 This
task is never quite completed, and yet it does bring to us a sense of
completion. Our now knowing how to
“solve” or “answer”, if we can call it that, the question “what is space?” or
“what is X?” in general is what does bring to us a sense of peace if not
contentment. This is for us the “real
discovery” spoken of by Wittgenstein, “the one that makes me capable of
stopping doing philosophy when I want to.”21 It is “the one that gives philosophy
peace, so that it is no longer tormented by questions which bring itself in
question.”22 Our method of “solving” this question and
others like it, i.e. those of the form “what is X?” where “X” is a commonly
spoken word in our language, is a method “by examples; and the series of
examples can be broken off.”23 In just
this way questions precisely such as these are solved and, more importantly, dissolved. WORKS FROM WHICH WE HAVE QUOTED Baker, Gordon (ed.), Gordon Baker, Michael Mackert,
John Connolly, and Vasilis Politis
(trans.). The Voices of Wittgenstein: The
Vienna Circle: Ludwig Wittgenstein and Friedrich Waismann. London: Routledge,
2003. Miller, D. J. “Wittgenstein: Time for a New Philosophical
Practice.” Continental Philosophy Review 31 (1998): 415. Pine-Coffin, R. S., trans. Saint
Augustine Confessions. New York:
Penguin Books, 1961. Wittgenstein, Ludwig, G. E. M. Anscombe (trans.). Philosophical Investigations. Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1963. Wittgenstein, Ludwig. Preliminary Studies for the “Philosophical
Investigations”; Generally Known as the Blue and Brown Book. New York: Harper & Brothers, 1958. ENDNOTES 1. “Space” as a spoken word appears in a myriad of
examples which can be elicited at times from everyday life. For example, (we say that) we park our vehicles
in parking “spaces.” We take up “space”
on a park bench. Satellites in “space” beam signals around the Earth.
Our Earth travels in an elliptical orbit in “space” thousands upon
thousands of miles per hour around the Sun. It is
the “space bar” which we strike on our keyboards when we want to leave a
“space” between our words. Nothing but
“empty space” is poetically said to fill the prairie landscape. Examples such as these can be continued
indefinitely. 2. Ludwig Wittgenstein, Preliminary Studies (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1958), p.
27. This remark is actually made in
reference to the word “knowledge” than to the word “space.” 3. Ludwig Wittgenstein, Preliminary Studies (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1958), p.
26. Wittgenstein is instead speaking
here in terms of the question “what is time?”. 4. Ludwig Wittgenstein, Preliminary Studies (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1958), p.
1. 5. R. S. Pine-Coffin, trans., Saint Augustine Confessions (New
York: Penguin Books, 1961), p. 264. 6. We are obviously referring to time here by
way of the pronominal referent “it.”
Such usage, at face value at least, does seem only natural on our part. About this we can say that such usage does
tend to connote or bestow upon time the notion of time’s, for lack of a better
expression, “being” something, perhaps something substance-like in the
classical if even Aristotelian sense.
While it is our intention in the discussion shortly to come to argue
against a definable substantiality on the part of time and thus, ultimately, on the part of
space as well, we do note here the intrinsic notion of substantiality that does
inescapably accompany the use of this pronoun in its being, if one will, an
inherent, i.e. “natural”, feature of the English, in general, Indo-European
languages in which such said forms are spoken.
We find in Archie Bahm a reference here which acutely relates to us this
peculiarity: “Part of
the problem of interpreting the nature of time, or of any category, consists of
referring to it as “it” (i.e., as “something”) when
such reference takes the grammatical form of a noun, which in Indo-European
languages tends to connote substantiality.” † Our attitude henceforth towards the
use of “it” in reference to time and in particular space is therefore one of
intrinsic naturalness, that is, that it is only natural for us to do so
provided the caveat, of course, that such said use does not – in our immediate thinking – necessarily imply any (real)
substantiality on the part of time or space, respectively. †Archie J. Bahm, Metaphysics: An
Introduction (Albuquerque, New Mexico: World Books, 1974), p. 46. 7. Ludwig Wittgenstein, Philosophical Investigations (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1963), § 1. The familiarity and admiration Wittgenstein has for Augustine as a philosopher is quite evident in his quoting the philosopher directly from his Confessions I.8 in the first section of the Philosophical Investigations. Wittgenstein’s commentary here on Augustine has as its purpose the introducing of the reader to what is Augustine’s (and others’) central picture of language, namely, that there is a simple one-to-one correspondence between a word and what the word means. Words mean the objects which they name, the objects for which they are mere representations. Wittgenstein’s intent in the Investigations is to deconstruct this view and replace it with the thinking that meaning is acquired, actually, negotiated by the way in which the language which encapsulates the word is used.
8. Au contraire, one might say to the notion that we cannot find or, better yet, that there is nothing to which or at which we can point and say of it, “(that is) space.” Anyone who has cast his eyes heavenward on a cloudless night and taken in the grandeur of the star-filled wonder he sees might, he just might, be moved enough to inquire into the nature of the awesome, seemingly infinite, black backcloth “in” which the distant stars seem embedded, a backcloth which he has customarily always called “space” in the sense of outer space, of course. “What is space?” might be then the question, if he asks a question, he offers as to his desiring to know and truly understand the nature of the spectacle that he is beholding. In this example, the “space” that our man says he can “see” is black in color as contrasted with white, which is the “color” of (most of) the stars’ light entering his eyes; perhaps blackness then can somehow be ascribed as being a property of the now considered-to-be “thing” space. If this is the case then why neverthelesss couldn’t we instead have begun our pursuit of (our knowing) what space is by considering rather the space between the desk and the bookshelf or the wide open space presented by the wheat field or the space between oneself and his hand when it is placed in front of his face? After all, space is space no matter where it is, isn’t it? Our answer to this is that we could, and yet there’s a catch: obviously the space between the desk and the bookshelf or the space which is presented by the open field or the space which is between oneself and his hand when he places it in front of his face is (said to be) colorless (or invisible) whereas the previously mentioned “(outer) space” was (said to be) black in color. In terms of the colorless or invisible space, if one will, if such is the case then how may we ask can one even possibly, perceptually “see” such said space in the first place? How can he even visually ascertain that it’s really there? Our answer is he can’t apart from either any refractivity or reflectivity which also presumably cannot be perceptually observed on the part of such said space. We’d like to think the situation holds differently for the former scenario of “outer”, astral space described as being “black” in color. Here, too, however, we run into problems in terms of our endowing space to be a thing which as a property of it is black in color. For example, in our bringing the star-filled nighttime sky a little bit closer to home and in our considering a scenario within our very own solar system, if the space, say, between the planets Mars and Jupiter, respectively, is really black then why isn’t the space between Earth and Mars really black as well such that we would not be able to see Mars on account of its, i.e. space’s, opacity? Again, can such said space be said to be really “seen” by us? How can one visually ascertain that “black” space is somehow amongst or between the more distant stars and not amongst or between the less distant planets including Earth? With what confidence at this point can we continue to speak of space as (actually) being some thing or just something colorless or invisible or black or opaque at which we can point and say of it “that is space” in the sense of there being something named “Space” at which we are pointing, at which we are looking? Our answer, in terms of our confidence, is very little if any at all. Our appeal here to an astronomical argument for the visual existence of a somehow substantial bearer named “Space” possibly endowed with a property of color has fallen short. What explanation though, say, not literally in terms either of a colored or invisible backcloth, if one will, but rather simply in terms of what it is we actually do see, i.e. stars, planets, desk, bookshelf, hand, face, etc., accounts and accounts correctly for the visual situations just described? Norman Swartz provides the following exceptional assessment as being the proper explanation, the proper response as it were, to give (his emphasis):
“Why, then, is the space between the chair and the table, unlike the space between Mars and Venus, not black?” This way of putting the question persists with the confusion. The ‘space’ between Mars and Venus is not black. We do not see blackness between the chair and the table, not because the space ‘there’ is some other color, but because we can see, by looking through that place, the illuminated wall beyond. If space existed and were colored, then I could not see my hand when held up a few inches from my nose: the intervening space would block my view. The sky is black between Mars and Venus, not because (interplanetary) ‘space’ is black, but rather because there is nothing to be seen there (between the planets) and nothing (except for an occasional distant star) to be seen further on, either.†
Thus, when we find occasion to say of space that we “see” it and thus as such can describe of it its being colorless or invisible or black or opaque we ought to immediately convince ourselves that what we do really see and yet unfortunately do misleadingly describe are places, i.e. possible yet so far non-actualized spatial relations, devoid of any physical, perceivable object(s).
†Norman Swartz, “Beyond Experience: Metaphysical Theories and Philosophical Constraints,” 2001, http://www.sfu.ca/philosophy/beyond_experience/chap08.htm. (Accessed May 23, 2009).
9. Vienna Circle member Friedrich Waismann
was a collaborator of Wittgenstein’s whose original duty with the latter was to
gather, organize, and make more readily presentable Wittgenstein’s ideas
concerning his Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus to a wider
audience. When such a collaboration with
Wittgenstein began, however, the latter was already rethinking his positions
taken earlier in the Tractatus and had subsequently
widened his views concerning language and the role that language plays in
philosophy. (Such views would form the
basis of what was to posthumously become the Philosophical
Investigations.) It was therefore at Wittgenstein’s suggestion
that he and Waismann coauthor a work which would
present the former’s latest, newest thoughts, if one
will. Due, however, to Wittgenstein’s
thinking being in a state of flux as well as his way of dismantling completely
bit by bit any and all of his previous work, the project between Waismann and him never ran smoothly and eventually eroded
to a point which Waismann found intolerable. Because of this Waismann
persuaded Wittgenstein to step down as coauthor and instead allow him, i.e. Waismann, and Waismann’s mentor
Moritz Schlick to write the actual text. After Schlick’s
untimely murder by one of his former students in 1936, Waismann
took it upon himself to see to it that the project be completed. In Waismann’s
papers found after his death in 1959, material dating from 1928-1939 was found
which pertains to Waismann’s project concerning
Wittgenstein. Editor Gordon Baker
gathered together this material which consists of the original German texts as
well as English translations of a selected, edited, and organized version of
two sets of typescripts which were found.
With the exception of a few fragmentary pieces, all of the texts found
were transcribed or composed by Waismann. The resulting compilation of such material is
Baker’s edited work The Voices of Wittgenstein: The
Vienna Circle: Ludwig Wittgenstein and Friedrich Waismann. Baker is clear here in that “authorship is
therefore appropriately ascribed to Waismann”
(Introduction, p. xvii). Because such
draft material was prepared, however, at a time when Waismann
was in collaboration with Wittgenstein, Baker defends the appearance of the
latter’s name in the title. In any event
because as Baker states the authorship of the material taken from this text is
“appropriately ascribed” to Waismann and since we
will be incorporating into our work a number of points made by Waismann (as will be evident shortly), we have opted to
thus give credit where credit is due and to therefore include the term “Waismannian” in the title of this, our paper.
10. Gordon Baker et al., The
Voices of Wittgenstein: The Vienna Circle: Ludwig Wittgenstein and Friedrich Waismann (London: Routledge, 2003), p. 483. 11. Gordon Baker et al., The
Voices of Wittgenstein: The Vienna Circle: Ludwig Wittgenstein and Friedrich Waismann (London: Routledge, 2003), p. 481. 12. Ludwig Wittgenstein, Preliminary Studies (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1958), p. 47. 13. D. J. Miller, “Wittgenstein: Time for a New Philosophical Practice,” Continental Philosophy Review 31 (1998):
413. Miller is actually speaking here in
terms of “time.” 14. Wittgenstein’s
exact words here are: “I
mean, we already know the idea of ‘aethereal objects’
as a subterfuge, when we are embarrassed about the grammar of certain words,
and when all we know is that they are not used as names for material objects.” Ludwig Wittgenstein, Preliminary Studies (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1958), p. 47. 15. Wittgenstein
indicates that it is objects emanating from natural science, that is, objects
which can be explored and demonstrated via the so-called scientific method,
which are aptly subject to the question “what is X?” In Philosophical Investigations
§89 he notes “what is the specific
gravity of hydrogen?” as an example of this question asked of this type of
object. The specific gravity of hydrogen
is a knowable object, if one will, of natural science. We, and if not then, at least the scientist
can readily explain what it is to someone without much problem if prompted to
do so. Can we say the same for space,
however? Is space something subject to
the scientific method? As for time, for
example, we can certainly invoke science by way of chronometric measurements if
we need to answer “what time is it?”, but can such methodology, i.e. science,
be used to answer “what, then, is time?”
Our problem in terms of our asking “what is space?” can be said to be
based in the mistaken belief that all objects of interrogation are subject to
the same format of question and answer.
Because the scientific method can allow for us to answer for various
things questions like “what does it look like?”, “where is it naturally
found?”, and “what (physically) causes it?”, respectively, we instinctively
presume such a methodology in its being taken to its most extreme and exhaustive limit
to be thus able to ultimately answer in some sense then the question “what
really is it?” as well. A Bengal tiger, thorium, and lightning are
various things or phenomena to which some or all of these questions can be
applied, respectively. We would expect
based on this then the full and
exhaustive application of the scientific method when thoroughly pressed to
these things to be able in a sense to
answer for each of them the question “what really is it?” as well. For space and time, however, we realize that
questions such as “what does it look like?” and “where is it naturally found?”, respectively, simply do not apply to them, at least not adequately. We cannot in any sense offer
intelligible answers for these things to these questions. It follows that there can be, therefore, no
application of the scientific method to the answering of “what is it?” for them, either. The lesson we learn here is that just because
a “what?”- and in particular a
“what-is-it?”-question can be posed by us we cannot nevertheless allow ourselves to fall into the trap
of necessarily imagining there to be an answer to such a question. We must therefore refrain from
imagining there to necessarily be an answer to a question simply because the
question can be posed by us. 16.
Gordon Baker et
al., The Voices of Wittgenstein: The
Vienna Circle: Ludwig Wittgenstein and Friedrich Waismann (London: Routledge, 2003), p. 483. 17. Traditionally speaking, this sense of definition in which the essence of X is expressed has come to be referred to as a “real definition”; this sense of definition makes its first historical appearance, if one will, in the dialogues (conversations) of Socrates as given to us by Plato. We know who each of Socrates’ conversational partners was in the respective dialogues by the names (titles) which they bear: Hippias, Laches, Lysis, and Meno, for example. The following passage from Donald R. Morrison provides an excellent evaluation on these points we have made here. In terms of Socrates’ dialogues Morrison writes the following:
Socrates steers the conversation by searching for a “definition.” Socrates asks his conversation partner to give a definition, to “say what courage is” or “what justice is.” What Socrates wants is not (what we would call) a dictionary definition, telling how the word is typically used, but (what philosophers have come to call) a “real definition,” an account displaying the essential nature of, for example, courage or justice. In fact our concept “essence” goes back historically to Socrates’ quest for definitions: “the essence of F” is whatever is given by a correct answer to the Socratic question, “What is F?”†
†Donald R. Morrison, “Socrates,” in A Companion to Ancient Philosophy, ed. Mary Louise Gill and Peierre Pellegrin (Hoboken, New Jersey: Wiley-Blackwell, 2009), p. 110.
18. See Ludwig
Wittgenstein, Philosophical Investigations (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1963), § 126.
On what metaphysics does encapsulate, Waismann
mentions this: “One populates the world with ethereal essences, namely with
things that one thinks one sees behind substantives. The science of these pseudo-beings might
justly be called metaphysics.” (Gordon Baker et al., p. 485.) 19. Ludwig Wittgenstein, Philosophical
Investigations (Oxford:
Basil Blackwell, 1963), § 371.
The emphasis here is Wittgenstein’s. 20. Gordon Baker et al., The Voices of Wittgenstein: The Vienna Circle: Ludwig Wittgenstein and Friedrich Waismann (London: Routledge, 2003), p. 483. 21. Ludwig Wittgenstein, Philosophical
Investigations (Oxford:
Basil Blackwell, 1963), § 133. 22. Ludwig Wittgenstein, Philosophical
Investigations (Oxford:
Basil Blackwell, 1963), § 133. 23. Ludwig Wittgenstein, Philosophical Investigations (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1963), § 133.
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