Thoughts Concerning Wittgensteinian-Waismannian Dissolution in General

 

Copyright © 2006-2009 by C. L. Brown – UnrestrictedPhilosophy.com

 

   The impression one acquires in the reading of Friedrich Waismann’s treatment of what can generically be called the “Augustinian effect” – our asking the question “what is X?” despite our being able to notionally discern X, that is, discern the notion of X in normal, everyday circumstances – is rightfully so one of a sense of completeness.1  This is particularly the case in Waismann’s treatment of what is Augustine’s famous question “What, then, is time?”2  For Waismann the “solution”, if one will, to this dilemma is simple: “If I know how I am to use the word ‘time’, if I understand it in the most diverse contexts, then I know quite precisely ‘what time is’, and no formulation can make this clearer to me.”3  Subsequently,

 

should I have to explain the meaning of this word to somebody, I would teach him to use the word in typical cases, i.e. in cases such as ‘I have no time’, ‘this is not the time for that’, ‘too much time has passed since then’, etc.  In short, I would lay out before him the whole complicated grammar of this word, I would, as it were, travel down all the lines that language has prepared for the use of this word – and that would convey to him an understanding of the word ‘time’.4

 

What we may surmise from this response is that it is not therefore a definition, i.e. “formulation” of some sort, which answers for us the question “what is time?”  The “simple truth”, Waismann instead declares, is that the “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.”5  Furthermore he adds, “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.”6  We see in this statement Waismann’s attitude towards the role which philosophy as understood by him and, for that matter, Ludwig Wittgenstein plays in terms of our language.  It is not our language and the way in which we use the words of our language which accompanies philosophy in our search for the criterion of things but rather quite the opposite: philosophy, instead, subordinates itself to our language.  In the Philosophical Investigations Wittgenstein – with whom, we remember, Waismann had once collaborated7 – makes this attitude quite clear: “Philosophy may in no way interfere with the actual use of language; it can in the end only describe it.”8  Subsequently, “Philosophy simply puts everything before us, and neither explains nor deduces anything.–Since everything lies open to view there is nothing to explain.”9  Lastly, and in being particularly suggestive of the manner which Wittgenstein advocates we do respond to philosophical questions – an example of which is the Socratic “What is X?”-type of question – we offer the following passage of his which crystallizes the basis of his approach towards what is the dissolution of such questions.  The quote is worth repeating at length.

 

It is not our aim to refine or complete the system of rules for the use of our words in unheard-of ways.  For the clarity that we are aiming is indeed complete clarity.  But this simply means that the philosophical problems should completely disappear.  The real discovery is the one that makes me capable of stopping doing philosophy when I want to.–The one that gives philosophy peace, so that it is no longer tormented by questions which bring itself in question.–Instead, we now demonstrate a method, by examples; and the series of examples can be broken off.–Problems are solved (difficulties eliminated), not a single problem.  There is not a philosophical method, though there are indeed methods, like different therapies.10

 

What Wittgenstein admits in his last sentence here is key: philosophy is not so much a method as it is a grouping of varied method-like “therapies” which one implements as needed in order to not analytically solve but rather completely dissolve (dis-solve) philosophical problems and questions.  It must be admitted here that there is a seductive appeal with Wittgenstein’s and especially Waismann’s approach towards problems owed to the Augustinian effect, i.e. our asking “what is X?” despite our ability to notionally discern X under normal, everyday circumstances.  Such an approach, in particular that of Waismann, focuses on the remedial dissolution of the question by way of presenting (the entirety of) the commonplace rhetoric – the “whole complicated grammar” – of the word “X” so much so that one can seemingly be left with the impression that there cannot possibly be anything more to X than its own forced submersion into the language surrounding the word “X.”  By this we mean that it may possibly be thought that X is ultimately “reducible”, for lack of a better word, to being nothing more than “X” the word which cannot be properly understood in any sense outside of the grammatical landscape in which it is ensconced.  This attitude does perhaps as mentioned reflect a sense of completeness: Waismann advocates the demonstration of what time is by way of the protracted presentation of (all) pertinent, viably grammatical references involving the word “time” so much so that the question “what is time?” can seemingly beg of itself never to be asked again.  With a so-called “therapeutic dissolution” like this, however, a certain expectation is quietly placed over the person who did dare ask the question “what is time?” in the first place.  The once considered “afflicted” patient who like Augustine does ask “what is time?” out of a sense of desperation11, if one will, is supposed to come away afterwards, upon having his question “grammatically” dissolved, with the feeling that he has been shown something new, something enlightening.  As such he is supposed to feel content about what he has “accomplished.”  He is then supposed to move on and away from this once seemingly most perplexing of vexations, namely, what is time?  In the end his problem, his question, his vexation with what time is seems or is supposed to seem to him to have been nothing more than a trivial matter.  While this newly found view might be just what the person once “afflicted” with the question “what is time?” did need in order to at least be “cured”, what cannot, however, and must not be overlooked is that this affliction, this problem, did in fact in the first place exist.  This in itself is no trivial matter.  We ought to be aware therefore of the seeming triviality which Wittgenstein’s non-systematic “activity” (philosophy) as evidenced, say, in the work of Waismann can make of what were once highly considered, traditional philosophical questions.12

 

   At this point it suffices for us to say in reference to Wittgenstein’s approach towards philosophy as a non-systematic “activity” – an activity whose aim is the “logical clarification of thoughts” made known essentially via “elucidations” and not necessarily, say, the production of definitions – that there is no formal system of metaphysics.13  We mention this here because in reference to that with which we ended the above paragraph – namely, “what were once highly considered, traditional philosophical questions” of which “what is space?” is but an example – we can say that such questions were and are to this day still tackled by some by means of deference to some sort of metaphysics or metaphysical system.  Generally speaking, a system of metaphysics would certainly necessitate the need for some type of structure which incorporates, if not, then is at least based upon the tacit use of definitions (“formulations”).  Wittgenstein’s attitude towards this as not being what philosophy is or at least not what it should be certainly lends some support as to why in his corpus of work there does not appear an outright work on metaphysics.14  We might even say in fact for Waismann at least that what one does call “metaphysics” is nothing more than the science of “fictitious entities” or “ethereal beings” which one thinks he sees hovering behind substantives like “space” and “time”, respectively.15  From this assessment of things it is truly not surprising then that in neither Wittgenstein nor Waismann do we find any formal system of thought concerning metaphysics such as what we do with Aristotle and the Scholastics, most notably Thomas Aquinas.  

 

   Wittgenstein’s disdain for metaphysics, however, ran deeper than just a belittlement of it as a seemingly fruitless search for the so-called “ethereal.”16 As evidenced in the Blue Book especially, Wittgenstein reacts against what he sees metaphysics as being: an incursion of the scientific method into the work of the philosopher.  By “scientific method” we may understand here a methodology whose aim is one of reductionism and generalization.  According to Wittgenstein, why a philosopher may develop a “preoccupation with the method of science” – one which has inspired a “craving for generality” – is certainly understandable by way of taking note of the (successful) manner in which such methodology has been employed by others.17  For example as Wittgenstein notes, it has been a general success on the part of the scientist to reduce explanations of “natural phenomena to the smallest possible number of primitive natural laws.”18  Likewise, it has been a general success on the part of the mathematician of “unifying the treatment of different topics by using a generalization.”19  The philosopher sees this reductionism occur within these respective fields and has understandably attempted to introduce such methodology into his work, his philosophy, in particular, his metaphysics.  In doing so, however, the philosopher imposes a duty upon philosophy which is either simply not in its now understood to be “therapeutic” nature or is simply outrightly dangerous to it.  The tendency of this reductionistic “method of science” is “the real source of metaphysics, and leads the philosopher into complete darkness.”20  Wittgenstein’s assessment on the function of philosophy, as we have seen, is quite opposite to this and is quite clear: “I want to say here that it can never be our job to reduce anything to anything, or to explain anything.  Philosophy really is ‘purely descriptive.’”21  In illustrating such a point Wittgenstein mentions a specific example taken from the world of science.  The scientist is the one who is apt to ask the question “what is X?” in terms of objects which can be explored and demonstrated, particularly by way of the so-called scientific method.  In Philosophical Investigations §89 Wittgenstein proposes “what is the specific gravity of hydrogen?” as a specific example of this type of question concerning this type of object.  After all, the specific gravity of hydrogen is a knowable object of natural science.  From the scientific perspective then the specific gravity of hydrogen is real.  In fact the scientist can readily explain what it is to someone without much problem if prompted to do so.  Can we, however, say the same for space and for time, respectively, in terms of their being knowable objects of science?  Our answer here is obviously no, and yet Wittgenstein’s point is that the careless philosopher nonetheless does ask the question “what is space?” as if it, i.e. space, is/was such an object.  Such a tendency on the part of such a philosopher again leads him into a state of complete darkness.  As such, the Wittgensteinian assessment is that the philosopher in asking this specific question concerning this specific object is thus “afflicted” in some sense by a deep-seated confusion.  Such a confusion has a tendency to arise when our words, that is, the words we actually use in our language and thus the language itself “goes on a holiday.”22  As a means of (philosophical) therapy it is the job of philosophy now considered to bring people such as the misguided philosopher here back into the light, so to speak, and rid them of this now understood problem.  We have read of the method or means by which Waismann advocates our attaining such a dissolution, that is, a completely forced disappearance of the question, namely, by way of a laying out of the “whole complicated grammar” of the word, in our case, of the word “space.”  It is via nothing more than the description of the everyday grammar of the word “space” whereby we can finally help someone come to know what space is. 

 

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.

 

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 Books.  New York: Harper & Brothers, 1958.

 

Wittgenstein, Ludwig.  Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus.”  In The Wittgensteinian Reader.  Edited by Anthony Kenny.  Oxford: Blackwell Publishers, 1994.

 

ENDNOTES

 

1.  Vienna Circle member Friedrich Waismann was a collaborator of Wittgenstein’s whose duty was to gather, organize, and make more readily presentable to a wider audience Wittgenstein’s ideas concerning his Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus, which was considered to be the source of the Circle’s view on logic.  For a discussion concerning the collaboration between the two see n. 9 of our paper “A Wittgensteinian-Waismannian Dissolution of the Question of Space” (http://www.unrestrictedphilosophy.com/dissolution.htm).  For insight into how in Waismann’s expositions the asking of more or less specific “what is X?”-type of questions are to be handled, see Gordon Baker et al., The Voices of Wittgenstein: The Vienna Circle: Ludwig Wittgenstein and Friedrich Waismann (London: Routledge, 2003), p. 487-489.

 

2.  See R. S. Pine-Coffin, trans., Saint Augustine Confessions (New York: Penguin Books, 1961), p. 264.

 

3.  Gordon Baker et al., The Voices of Wittgenstein: The Vienna Circle: Ludwig Wittgenstein and Friedrich Waismann (London: Routledge, 2003), p. 487.

 

4.  Gordon Baker et al., The Voices of Wittgenstein: The Vienna Circle: Ludwig Wittgenstein and Friedrich Waismann (London: Routledge, 2003), p. 487.

 

5.  Gordon Baker et al., The Voices of Wittgenstein: The Vienna Circle: Ludwig Wittgenstein and Friedrich Waismann (London: Routledge, 2003), p. 483.

 

6.  Gordon Baker et al., The Voices of Wittgenstein: The Vienna Circle: Ludwig Wittgenstein and Friedrich Waismann (London: Routledge, 2003), p. 483.

 

7.  See n. 9 of C. L. Brown, “A Wittgensteinian-Waismannian Dissolution of the Question of Space”

(http://www.unrestrictedphilosophy.com/dissolution.htm) for a discussion concerning their collaboration.  

 

8.  Ludwig Wittgenstein, Philosophical Investigations (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1963), § 124.

 

9.  Ludwig Wittgenstein, Philosophical Investigations (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1963), § 126.

 

10.  Ludwig Wittgenstein, Philosophical Investigations (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1963), § 133.  The emphasis here is Wittgenstein’s.

 

11.  To say that it is in desperation that Augustine produces his famed question of time is something which one does generally ascertain from the existent literature on the matter but is not something which is in absolute agreement amongst everyone.  In her book What, Then, Is Time? Eva Brann’s take on Augustine’s asking of his famous question – the very question that she chooses for her book’s title – is one not of desperation or discomfort with the concept of time but rather of something which one might say is the complete opposite: a joyous, enthusiastic zeal for time itself.  States Brann in terms of Wittgenstein’s assessment of Augustine’s question:

 

Ludwig Wittgenstein . . . says in a passage on Augustine in The Blue Book that this “What is . . . ?” question concerning time is, like any other, an expression of “mental discomfort,” comparable to the “Why?” question children ask, a question that doesn’t necessarily demand a cause or a reason.  The question about time, he says, really arises for Augustine in respect to measuring it, and the puzzle comes from a contradiction in the different usages of the word “time”: He thinks of it as a length to be measured on a traveling band as it passes us and then applies this process analogously to time itself.  The problem, Wittgenstein says, is simple and its difficulty is due to the fascination with and confusion of two similar structures of language: length-language and time-language.  Augustine’s question is exploded and the pieces are reduced to a grammatical puzzle – grammar understood as a set of strict rules regulating language use.  “Philosophy, as we use the word,” he concludes, “is a fight against the fascination which forms of expression exert upon us.”  And, he says, asking for more and better definitions will get us nothing.

 

As mentioned, Brann takes umbrage here with what is Wittgenstein’s “discomfort”-based understanding of Augustine’s intention in his, i.e. Augustine’s, asking “what, then, is time?”  Her assessment of Augustine is straightforward in its being critical of such thinking. 

 

Now it is true, as we will see, that Augustine attacks time as a problem by asking how it is that we can measure it, seeing that it is in its forward and backward extension nonpresent, and in its present Now not an extended quantity.  But it is quite false that that is the reason why the question of time arises for him, or that he is looking for dispositive definitions when he asks the question “What, then, is time?”  Nor is he confused.  It might be said that the open-eyed perplexity of one who wants to know is the one state truly exempt from mere confusion, for confusion ends when questioning perplexity takes hold.  Moreover, there is really no “mental discomfort” in Augustine’s inquiry; the anxiety is rather on the side of him who feels the need to ease anxiety by mortifying wonder and by doing away with the question.  But above all, Augustine does not seem to me to labor under a bewitched fascination but rather to rejoice in a serene ardor . . . .

 

In taking stock of Brann’s comments here we feel emboldened to say that quite possibly it was Wittgenstein who was the one who had reservations about or a “mental discomfort” with the asking of “what is time?” in this question’s being an example of a particular, philosophical “what is X?”-type of question.  Wittgenstein’s and most especially Waismann’s agenda in their treatments of the celebrated question “what is time?” would appear if anything to be an attempt, perhaps dare we say a somewhat “desperate” attempt on their part, at defeating if not at least then devaluing the wonder at the meaning of the word “time.”  As she writes later in her exposition upon the position that time is not a mere linguistic usage which the Wittgensteinian-Wasimannian corpus would have one think, Brann personally assails this would-be defeatist attitude: “As it happens, the last thing I want to defeat is my wonder at the meaning of words. . . .”

 

Eva Brann, What, Then, Is Time? (Lanham, Maryland: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, Inc., 2001), p. 113.

 

Eva Brann, What, Then, Is Time? (Lanham, Maryland: Rowman & Littlefield Publishers, Inc., 2001), p. 195.

 

 

12.  The word “activity” here is taken from Wittgenstein in the Tractatus Logico-PhilosophicusSee Ludwig Wittgenstein, Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus,” in The Wittgensteinian Reader, ed. by Anthony Kenny (Oxford: Blackwell Publishers, 1994), 4.112. 

 

13.  Ludwig Wittgenstein, Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus,” in The Wittgensteinian Reader, ed. by Anthony Kenny (Oxford: Blackwell Publishers, 1994), 4.112. 

 

14.  Wittgenstein’s concern with metaphysics centers not so much on the particular subject matter to which it relates, i.e. that which is thought to transcend the world, that is, the inexpressible, but rather on the way or manner in which statements concerning such subject matter are presented, namely, as propositions.  As Wittgenstein saw it, the problem with traditional metaphysics lies in its tendency to expound its propositions as if they purport truths or at least some truths about the world.  In truth, however, propositions concerning that which transcends the world, i.e. the inexpressible, are nonsensical.  They are not false in the sense of their being misstatements of fact because there is no fact entailed in them; rather, they simply and collectively serve as nonsense which poses as or gives the appearance of being propositions of truth.  In this sense Wittgenstein, strictly speaking, was not anti-metaphysical in his thinking but rather simply non-metaphysical.  Traditional metaphysics was not the only endeavor to which Wittgenstein lent this criticism, however, as evidenced in the following quote from Fann (the author’s emphasis): “For Wittgenstein, metaphysics, ethics, religion and art all belong to the realm of the transcendental which cannot be said but only shown.”

 

K. T. Fann, Wittgenstein’s Conception of Philosophy (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1969), p. 27. 

 

 

15.  Gordon Baker et al., The Voices of Wittgenstein: The Vienna Circle: Ludwig Wittgenstein and Friedrich Waismann (London: Routledge, 2003), p. 159-161.  The quote in full is as follows:

 

A substantive misleads one into looking for a substance.  One populates the world with ethereal beings, the shadowy companions of the substantives.  One could legitimately call the science of these fictitious entities metaphysics. 

 

 

16.  Perhaps “disdain” here is too harsh a word to use.  To say that Wittgenstein was wanting to completely discredit or dismantle the work of the metaphysician would be wrong.  In one instance Wittgenstein is noted as actually praising the metaphysics of the past: “Don’t think I despise metaphysics.  I regard some of the great philosophical systems of the past as among the noblest productions of the human mind.” What we are wanting to do, however, is to rid metaphysics of its unnecessary baggage.  Such baggage, so to speak, is ensconced in the language in which metaphysics is presented, in the language which surrounds and envelops it, in the language – quite often – of the substantive.

 

Rush Rhees, Recollections of Wittgenstein (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1984), p. 105.

 

 

17.  Ludwig Wittgenstein, Preliminary Studies (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1958), p. 18.  

 

18.  Ludwig Wittgenstein, Preliminary Studies (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1958), p. 18.  

 

19.  Ludwig Wittgenstein, Preliminary Studies (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1958), p. 18.  

 

20.  Ludwig Wittgenstein, Preliminary Studies (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1958), p. 18.  

 

21.  Ludwig Wittgenstein, Preliminary Studies (New York: Harper & Brothers, 1958), p. 18.  The emphasis is Wittgenstein’s. 

 

22.  Ludwig Wittgenstein, Philosophical Investigations (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1963), § 38. 

 

 

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