METAPHILOSOPHY Vol. 20, No. 2, April 1989 0026-1068 $2.00

WITTGENSTEIN AND THE END OF PHILOSOPHY

JOHN CHURCHILL

“Great writers create their own precursors.” Jorge Luis Borges

Philosophy is a peculiar discipline. Among its peculiarities in the twentieth century is the persistence of intense concern among philo- sophers about the validity of philosophical activity itself. Is an activity called “philosophy” among the appropriate, or even possible, intel- lectual projects? Richard Rorty has recommended a “relaxed attitude” in which “we should not worry about whether what we are doing is really philosophy”. (“Philosophy in America Today” 190) This relaxa- tion is warranted, according to Rorty, by the fact “philosophy is not the sort of thing that has an historical essence.” (191) He credits Wittgenstein with waking us from “the dream of philosophy as the scientia scientiarum, . . . [the] inquiry into the nature of all possible inquiry”. (193)

It is right to identify Wittgenstein, in certain dimensions of his work, as one of the progenitors of Rorty’s deflationary account of philosophy as the interlocutor among disciplines. But much of his work, on the other hand, embodies the notion of the philosophical metadiscipline, albeit with a self-negating twist. Wittgenstein’s career comprises two quite different, though closely related, conceptions of philosophical practice. Furthermore, both conceptions include unresolved ambi- valences about the proper practice and results of philosophy. The two conceptions do not neatly divide into “early” and “later” Wittgenstein; there are elements of both in each. In Philosophy and the Mirror of Nature Rorty sketches two possible roles for philosophers. The philosopher may be “the cultural overseer who knows everyone’s common ground - the Platonic philosopher-king”. Or the philosopher may be “the informed dilletante, the polypragmatic, Socratic inter- mediary between various discourses”. (317) These two roles coincide, respectively, with aspects of Wittgenstein’s work that may be called “romantic”, and “prosaic”.

In his Portraits From Memory (23), Bertrand Russell recounts a vignette of his encounters with Wittgenstein while the latter was his student at Cambridge in 1912-13.

He used to come to my rooms at midnight, and for hours he would walk backward and forward like a caged tiger. O n arrival, he would announce that when he left my rooms he would commit suicide. So, in spite of getting

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come together in Wittgenstein’s ambiguous formula that combines the ultimate degrees of self-absorption and cosmic expansiveness: “I am my world.” (T 5.63). This ambivalence in outcomes matches Wittgenstein’s celebrated ambivalence about the process of doing philosophy. It is a commonplace of criticism to point out, as indeed Wittgenstein himself did, that the Tractatus consists of propositions which, by its own criterion, must be judged nonsensical.

One side of this ambivalence surfaces throughout Wittgenstein’s later philosophy as a renewal of the old Tractarian anxiety to be done with philosophical theories. He wrote that “the real discovery is the one that makes me capable of stopping doing philosophy when I want to”. (Philosophical Znvestigations, #133) The suggestion here that philo- sophizing is a troubling process corroborates the portrayal of Wittgen- stein by certain acquaintances as one for whom the practice of philosophy was a kind of torment. In his Memoir Norman Malcolm describes Wittgenstein’s life as “fiercely unhappy”, and his attitude toward his philosophical work, in particular, Malcolm describes as relentless, terrible, and ruthless. The eftects of doing philosophy left Wittgenstein, according to Malcolm, exhausted, revolted, and dis- gusted. (27) In a famous passage Wittgenstein states that his aim in philosophy is to show the fly the way out of the flybottle. (Philosophical Investigations #309) To engage in philosophical thought is to struggle against a kind of entrapment, an entrapment from which one might, at last, be freed. But on the other hand Wittgenstein’s actual philosophical practice often seems to be headed for the endless pursuit of indefinitely many puzzles. In Zettel Wittgenstein concludes a set of remarks on the nature of philosophy by saying: “But in that case we never get to the end of our work! - Of course not, for it has no end.” (#447) So the question arises: In the later philosophy what is the relation between Wittgenstein’s aim to end philosophy with a final clarifying resolution, and his envisagement of a continuing role for philosophical activity?

The burden of this paper is to argue that in the later Wittgenstein there remains, as a continuation of the Tractarian pattern discussed above, a deep ambivalence about the intellectual integrity of the philosophical enterprise. This ambivalence concerns the processes and outcomes of philosophical activity. It takes shape in the questions whether philosophy can end, ought to end, or even has already ended. Is philosophy somehow a part of the intellectual project that can go on, ought to go on, and that Wittgenstein himself practiced? Is it an essential ingredient in the rationalist intellectual culture produced by the Enlightenment? Is it or is it not an inevitable human intellectual project? Is the pursuit of philosophical practices a proper or a necessary constituent of a sound, humane community?

Rorty has written that “philosophers usually think of their discipline as one which discusses perennial, eternal problems”. (Philosophy and

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The Romantic experienced a sense of profound isolation within the world and an equally terrifying alienation from society. These two experiences, metaphysical isolation and social alienation, . . . were the distinguishing signs of the romantic. . . . To symbolize that isolation and alienation, and simultaneously to assert the self as the source of order, meaning, value, and identity, became one task of the Romantic personality. To find a ground for value, identity, meaning, order became the other task. (The Triumph of Romanticism 4C1)

Seen in light of Peckham’s diagnosis of the romantic worldview, the early Wittgenstein appears in part as an exemplary instance of a type: a late, highly refined romantic. But Wittgenstein also exemplifies the prosaic predilection for detail and mechanical form criticized by William Barrett in The Illusion of Technique. An engineer capable of obsessive absorption in the problems of machinery and mechanical design (see anecdotes recounted by Bartley), he scorned attempts to extend the reasonableness and intelligibility of mundane discourse into religion, ethics, and what might be called “transcendent psychology”. At various stages of his thoughts he spoke of these fields as “nonsense”, “transcendental twaddle”, and “intellectual make-believe”; from begin- ning to end one of his most central aims is to display nonsense for what it is. ( Tractatus, author’s “Preface”, and Philosophical Investigations, 464.)

The ambivalence of the Tractatus is the tension between mysticism and realism. On the romantic side the Tractatus portrays the world as inherently and profoundly mystical, exuding an ineffable sense beyond the particularity of the facts that compose it. This mystical sense is apprehended by the transcendent observing self - the solipsistic self of isolated rationalist consciousness. But, as Wittgenstein claims in a famous passage, this self ultimately shrinks to a point without extension. In effect, it vanishes, leaving only “the reality coordinate with it”. (Tractatus 5.64) So solipsistic mysticism, in the end, “coincides with pure realism”, that is, with the prosaic claim that “the world is all that is the case”.

There is also a plainly prosaic side to the Tractatus. One need only ignore two stretches of text, 5.6-5.641 and 6.4-7, as many early readers did or tried to do, and the book becomes straightforwardly a treatise on logic and atomistic metaphysics. The sole romantic element left in that reading of the Tractatus is the insistence on the fundamental unity of philosophical problems and on the finality of the proffered solution.

It is, to say the least, not clear that solipsistic mysticism and realism do coincide. The self, which on Peckham’s reading the romantic must assert, is both asserted and denied: “In an important sense there is no subject.” (T5.631) Value, too, is in a sense grounded and in another sense denied: no fact has value, yet “Feeling the world as a limited whole: it is this that is mysical.” (T 6.45) Finally, identity and isolation

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come together in Wittgenstein’s ambiguous formula that combines the ultimate degrees of self-absorption and cosmic expansiveness: “I am my world.” (T 5.63). This ambivalence in outcomes matches Wittgenstein’s celebrated ambivalence about the process of doing philosophy. It is a commonplace of criticism to point out, as indeed Wittgenstein himself did, that the Tractatus consists of propositions which, by its own criterion, must be judged nonsensical.

One side of this ambivalence surfaces throughout Wittgenstein’s later philosophy as a renewal of the old Tractarian anxiety to be done with philosophical theories. He wrote that “the real discovery is the one that makes me capable of stopping doing philosophy when I want to”. (Philosophical Investigations, #133) The suggestion here that philo- sophizing is a troubling process corroborates the portrayal of Wittgen- stein by certain acquaintances as one for whom the practice of philosophy was a kind of torment. In his Memoir Norman Malcolm describes Wittgenstein’s life as “fiercely unhappy”, and his attitude toward his philosophical work, in particular, Malcolm describes as relentless, terrible, and ruthless. The eftects of doing philosophy left Wittgenstein, according to Malcolm, exhausted, revolted, and dis- gusted. (27) In a famous passage Wittgenstein states that his aim in philosophy is to show the fly the way out of the flybottle. (Philosophical Investigations #309) To engage in philosophical thought is to struggle against a kind of entrapment, an entrapment from which one might, at last, be freed. But on the other hand Wittgenstein’s actual philosophical practice often seems to be headed for the endless pursuit of indefinitely many puzzles. In Zettel Wittgenstein concludes a set of remarks on the nature of philosophy by saying: “But in that case we never get to the end of our work! - Of course not, for it has no end.” (#447) So the question arises: In the later philosophy what is the relation between Wittgenstein’s aim to end philosophy with a final clarifying resolution, and his envisagement of a continuing role for philosophical activity?

The burden of this paper is to argue that in the later Wittgenstein there remains, as a continuation of the Tractarian pattern discussed above, a deep ambivalence about the intellectual integrity of the philosophical enterprise. This ambivalence concerns the processes and outcomes of philosophical activity. It takes shape in the questions whether philosophy can end, ought to end, or even has already ended. Is philosophy somehow a part of the intellectual project that can go on, ought to go on, and that Wittgenstein himself practiced? Is it an essential ingredient in the rationalist intellectual culture produced by the Enlightenment? Is it or is it not an inevitable human intellectual project? Is the pursuit of philosophical practices a proper or a necessary constituent of a sound, humane community?

Rorty has written that “philosophers usually think of their discipline as one which discusses perennial, eternal problems”. (Philosophy and

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the Mirror of Nature 3 ) One aspect of Wittgenstein’s work tends to support Rorty’s supposition that this notion is illusory, while the other tends to support the notion itself. The prosaic side of Wittgenstein lends itself to a historicist posture. What we want in doing philosophy is the characterization of certain relevant parts of human natural history. We are assembling reminders that for whatever reason are relevant to a problem that vexes us. (Philosophy Investigations 109, 127) Philosophy consists in the unraveling of puzzles that we happen to have because of certain episodes in our intellectual history. There is no reason to believe -or rather, there is no sense to be attached to the claim - that these, our current philosophical problems, are anything more than local concerns generated by the very particular circumstances of our history. On the other hand the romantic Wittgenstein seems to address certain fixed problems, the inevitable confusions produced by a constant temptation - a temptation that stands in the way of all attempts to think clearly. There is a certain human intellectual condition into the pitfalls of which we are always prone to stumble. On this reading our problems have an eternal, demonic grandeur as our constant, inevitable adversaries.

In the romantic view Wittgenstein conceives a sharp distinction between traditional philosophy and his own later work. One manifesta- tion of this tendency is the remark (mentioned above) that his work was one “heir” of the subject that formerly was called “philosophy”. (Blue Book 28) The romantic perspective views traditional philosophy as a disease, a disorder, and a source of mental torment akin to insanity. We hope for ultimate solutions to pnilosophy itself. Once clarity is achieved, on this version, there should be no more need for philosophical activity. This aim for finality illustrates the connection between the romantic wish to be done with philosophizing and the rationalistic wish harbored by the logical positivists that philosophy should be ended in favor of a purely scientifc intellectual culture. In this regard Wittgenstein’s impulses are reminiscent of Tolstoy’s wish to escape from the sophistica- tion of intellectual culture into the supposedly pure and simple life of the unreflective peasantry. A related concern is Wittgenstein’s insist- ence that philosophy should not aim toward the articulation and proof of correct theories. We do not need theories to replace disease, only health; nor do we need them to replace confusion, but only clarity.

On the prosaic side, on the other hand, Wittgenstein conceives no sharp differentiation between philosophy and his own work. He regards himself as practicing philosophy rather than initiating some radically new successor discipline. Philosophy is envisaged as an on-going activity, a process of conceptual fence-keeping somewhat like the regulative functions of metaphysics in Kant’s thought. The prosaic perspective holds that traditional philosophy is merely confused - a tissue of mistakes and problems rather than a field of demonic forces.

On the romantic side, the desired outcome of philosophical activity is

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clarity in the mind of the individual. The thinker understands; insight is achieved. In the Tractatus this notion occurs as the doctrine of “showing”, the ineffable self-manifestation of (typically) the basic structural features of reality. In this guise the doctine of “showing” is a descendant of the Cartesian notion of the mind’s intuitive grasp of self- evident rational truths. But in the prosaic version of the later work, the desired outcome of philosophical activity is the capacity to participate in a social activity, particularly some linguistic activity. Wittgenstein characterizes the concept of understanding as a capacity expressed in this formula: “NOW I can go on.” There are numerous characterizations of philosophical results in the later work that suggest this outcome. To be in the grip of a philosophical problem is to be paralyzed, lost, or to be unable to make a further move in some process. (Philosophical Investigations 123, 309)

Another difference between these two versions lies in the character of the struggle involved in philosophical activity. The romantic Wittgenstein conceives philosophy as a “battle against the bewitchment of our intelligence”, (Philosophical Investigations 109) a righteous struggle against a demonic enemy whose force lies in certain beguiling superstitions and seductive illusions (1 10). The prosaic Wittgenstein, too, aimed toward the disclosure of nonsense. He wrote: “My aim is: to teach you to pass from a piece of disguised nonsense to something that is patent nonsense.” (Philosophical Investigations 464) This would involve, perhaps, the actual cessation of certain forms of expression. When we understand how our language actually works, he thought, . . . “there is a good deal that you will not say” (282) The idea is that philosophy simply discloses linguistic forms, and one is free to say what he pleases, as long as one understands that it is oneself who has chosen this form of expression and that it is not determined by the dictates of reality itself.

The romantic Wittgenstein often emphasizes the moral quality of one’s will, as if philosophical disclosures can take us only so far, and then some wrenching round of the whole person through an act of will is required in order to consummate the process. This interest in a willed transformation of the whole person is rooted in Wittgenstein’s earliest ruminations on the connection between philosophical reflection and moral issues. In the Notebooks 2914-1916 (7681,8691) he was already writing about the problem of the will, and struggling to coordinate logical insight with moral reformation. In the Tractatus, under the influence of Schopenhauer, he hoped to portray that reformation as a consequence of philosophical insight into the logical structure of things. (This link between logic and the will is the deep sense of T 6.45, cited above.)

While the romantic Wittgenstein is a voluntarist, the prosaic Wittgenstein is a naturalist. The endpoints of his inquiries are references to human nature. In Philosophical Investigations he describes

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his philosophical method as supplying “remarks on the natural history of human beings”. (#415) And in Zetfel he continually refers to human practices, customs, or to human nature itself at the conclusion of an explanation: “This is how we think. This is how we act. This is how we talk about it.” (#309) The importance of this contrast is that the romance of voluntarist choice presents the culmination of the philo- sophical problem as a moral challenge, while the prosaic natural historian simply asks us to recognize some matter of fact.

Both romantic and prosaic versions of Wittgenstein emphasize the primacy in philosophy of description as opposed to explanation. But they differ in the significance they give to description vis-a-vis the prohibited alternative. The romantic Wittgenstein enjoins us to keep strictly to description because the world, in so far as it can be captured in linguistic descriptions, floats on an abyss of the indescribable. To attempt to describe that abysss is to engage in delusions, to exercise a massive and disastrous hybris. It is the characteristic philosophical mistake, and perhaps the characteristic mistake of rationalist, intellectual culture. In this reading the world has enormous depth; it is troubling and mysterious. But for the prosaic side, all that is stuff and nonsense. The world is susceptible only of description. It can’t be explained, in any philosophically profound sense, because it’s just there. Bertrand Russell expressed the prosaic lack of any sense of depth when, in response to Frederick Copleston’s challenge how he would account for the existence of the world, he exclaimed: “I should say that the universe is just there, and that’s all.” (Hick 175) Wittgenstein himself singled Russell out for criticism as a philosopher with no depth, no sense of any deep problems ( Z 456). From such a perspective, the attempt to explain it (in the traditional metaphysical sense) is not a significant goal, but an old and familiar mistake.

The romantic Wittgenstein, at the end of reason-giving, invokes one of two explanations for our ability to “go on”. One mode of explanation is the voluntarism just discussed. One decides to go on in a certain way, and, for a broad range of cases, this decision is held to be validated by the moral quality of one’s willing. The other mode of explanation is a disguised intuitionism. At the end of reason-giving the practitioner, if he is successful, “gets it”. He catches on, and does so by seeing the sense of the practice. This notion as mentioned above, with its veiled allusion to an intellectual intuition, is a descendant of the Cartesian apprehension of truths immediately present to the mind. Consequently, on this romantic reading, there is a cognitive content in the practitioner’s ability to go on. There is something intelligible that he grasps. He does not simply act. He acts on the basis of something - his apprehension of a sense. On the other hand the prosaic Wittgenstein alludes not to “getting it”, but to being trained. The practitioner proceeds as he does not because he catches on to the sense of the practice but because he has

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been trained to go on as he does. There is no cognitive content involved; there is nothing that counts as the sense of the practice that guides the practitioner. This aspect of Wittgenstein’s thought is well expressed by Crispin Wright’s denial that “a community goes right or wrong in accepting a particular verdict on a particular decidable question; rather, it just goes”. (Wittgenstein: To Follow A Rule 106) The practice itself, and nothing behind or beyond it, is the standard of its own order.

It is time to summarize. Wittgenstein’s romanticism, as described above, involves him in the following conceptions: (1) philosophy deals with deep existential or spiritual issues - God, the soul, sin, and grace; (2) philosophical inquiry has a universal scope, dealing with certain fixed questions which arise when anyone, anywhere begins to reflect; (3) philosophical problems are susceptible of unified, ultimate resolutions which settle the reflective questions; (4) the resolutions are or entail conversions of the will - a kind of moral reformation; ( 5 ) the process of doing philosophy is a struggle with doubt and uncertainty about the central structures that make life possible, so philosophical work is a kind of torment; (6) the achievement of resolution consists in the individual thinker’s coming to clarity, a moment of insight comparable to traditional philosophy’s notions of intuition and self-evidence; ( 7 ) once resolution is reached, the need to do philosophy vanishes: there are no problems any more; (8) the life of philosophical reflection is not really the good life - that belongs to people of a certain moral quality for whom doubt and confusion do not dictate reflection and who are engaged in the simple and manifestly noble tasks of ordinary human life; and (9) philosophy should come to an end with the confusions of its practitioners.

His prosaic side, as also described above, involves him in the following contrasting conceptions: (1) philosophy deals with mundane affairs of logic and language; (2) philosophical inquiry focuses on occasional perplexities that arise for locally peculiar reasons in the course of some specific limited activity (they are always parochial); (3) philosophical problems are resolved by ad hoc strategies of puzzle- solving that unknit the tangles - for the time being; (4) such resolutions are the result of patient, plodding investigation seeking a clear picture of some activity people undertake and of how they pursue it; ( 5 ) the process of doing philosophy is a struggle against unclarity and “wrong pictures” - intellectual muddles, and mistakes; (6) the achievement of resolution consists in the ability “to go on”, i.e., to partake in some social activity which comes to make sense and to fit with one’s other activities - the gaining of a skill or competence rather than a flash of insight; ( 7 ) resolution of one problem simply opens room for more, as people are constantly turning up troublesome muddles and making mistakes by imposing “wrong pictures”; (8) while the life of philo- sophical reflection is not a uniquely noble life, the unravelling of

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philosophical puzzles is itself an intrinsically worthwhile activity in which a discerning person can engage with self-respect; and (9) philosophy will not come to an end, for its puzzles have no end.

Between these two clusters of notions Wittgenstein was genuinely ambivalent, He vacillated between the pairs of competing ideas. But this is not necessarily a damning criticism. Philosophy itself embodies clusters of ambiguities that may justify such ambivalence. If this claim about the ambiguities of philosophy is true, then in a sense it is right and in another sense wrong to speak even of “philosophy itself’. The power of this ambiguity is revealed when one considers that Rorty employs both sides of it in denying that philosophy has an historical essence. If he is right, then one must ask whether he has succeeded in referring to anything which might be described as lacking an essence. If he does succeed in referring, though, then his denial of an essence seems problematic. Isn’t there something he has targetted to describe? The way to sort out this puzzle seems to be this. Clearly, there is such a thing as philosophy in a sociological sense. It consists in the activities of those who, over the last three centuries, have considered themselves (and have been considered by the mainstream of this community itself) to have been doing philosophy, and in the activities of those whom this community has considered as its precursors. Clearly too, there are (at least) strong reasons for doubting that there is such a thing as philosophy in an ontological sense. There are increasingly impressive grounds to believe that there is no discrete, eternal, and inevitable body of knowledge, issues, o r problems common to the work of all those just mentioned - modern philosophers and those they regard as their forbears. To say that philosophy has no historical essence is to deny of the activities of that group that they are about something that could be called philosophy in this second, ontological sense. Yet this judgment - a metaphilosophical judgment - fails to note the fact that philosophy (sociological sense) itself projectively creates philosophy (ontological sense). That is to say, by framing an issue in a context bounded by (say) Plato, Pascal, and Kierkegaard, a philosopher creates linkages which, whether there or not, antecedently, come fo be there by virtue of his activity .

The reflexive question “What is philosophy?” is itself a philosophical question. For that reason philosophers both do philosophy and without ceasing to do so, ask what doing philosophy is, or is about. In general, Wittgenstein’s philosophical work is romantic and his metaphilosophical work is prosaic. That is, when engaged with particular problems, he assigns them reality as the philosophical issues, and supposes that philosophy will end with his resolution of them. But when reflecting on the status of those problems, their origin and nature, he sees them as a set of puzzles posed by very particular historical circumstances. But if we recognize that his characteristic method of treating philosophical

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problems was not to tackle them head-on but to apply to them a specific version of this general metaphilosophical approach, we come to see how the two orientations are juxtaposed in his practice. Wittgenstein came to philosophy romantically, but practiced it prosaically. Robert Fogelin has written:

Wittgenstein’s later philosophy is an interrogation of those features inherent in our language which lead us . . . to philosophize in the first place. The task of philosophy is to expose and neutralize these tendencies. (10)

The sense of this diagnosis, in present terms, comes clearer if we say that we are led to philosophize (romantically) in the first place by misreading certain features of our language, and that it is the task of philosophy (prosaically) to neutralize that impetus. Wittgenstein’s genius lies in a rediscovery that a prosaic metaphilosophy is itself a philosophical antidote to romantic philosophy.

Does philosophy then come to an end? Yes and no. The project of modern philosophy - foundationalist epistemology - comes to an end without its questions being answered. That is, it comes to an end if we accept Wittgenstein’s prosaic metaphilosophical critique of its romantic impulses. But it comes to an end only for a while, since other, similar concerns will surface and animate philosophers or their successors in some future time, when the local circumstances of that intellectual culture generate the relevant questions. Abnormal discourse, as Rorty calls it, is the part of the conversation that begins with the question “What are we saying when we say . . .?” And that question will arise, as Rorty puts it “because free and leisured conversation generates abnormal discourse as the sparks fly upward”. (Philosophy and the Mirror of Nature 389) Philosophy’s coming to an end could only mean the closing of one particular phase of an on-going conversation, a phase to be followed by other phases united with it through the claims of those later interlocutors to be taking up or replacing its topics. Later philosophers, to adapt the line from Borges with which this writing began, will claim the philosophers of the modern age of metaphysics, epistemology, and analysis as their precursors, and will construct a tradition behind themselves. In this sense, from the prosaic perspective, philosophy should not be expected to end, though one can also appreciate the romantic’s wish to seek that culmination, or indeed to find it retrospectively in what has already been said and done. Wittgenstein, because he combined such powerful versions of both perspectives, will continue to be tugged upon - in neither case quite successfully - by those who seek to characterize philosophy exclusively in either romantic or prosaic categories.

Hendrix College Conway, Arkansas 72032 USA

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