Two posts ago I started unpacking the seed — five lines about language and how we relate to reality. This view on language has not fallen from the sky. It finds broad support in philosophy and science and the next three posts are devoted to philosophers whose thinking resonates well with Splectrum's language approach. Starting with Ludwig Wittgenstein.
There is a picture of reality that runs deep in Western thinking. Reality is out there, independent, fixed, waiting to be described. And it is the job of language to provide that description. The more precise the language, the closer we get to truth. This is all thought about from an outside viewpoint looking in.
That's where Wittgenstein started. His Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus (1921) is the most rigorous version of that picture ever built. Language works by picturing reality. A meaningful proposition shares its logical form with what it describes. Names stand for objects. What doesn't fit — ethics, aesthetics, the mystical — must be passed over in silence. A logical straightjacket, beautifully tailored. Wittgenstein thought he had done all he could, and left philosophy behind.
Then it tore.
After a few years doubts about the Tractatus started to settle in, and with the help of some catalysts by 1929 he had fully returned to the philosophical fold. What with the language of gesture? It has meaning, but no logical form, no proposition. No room for it in the Tractatus.
Wittgenstein resumed his career in philosophy within the analytical tradition, while his thoughts and work drifted ever further away from it. What came out changed the landscape. Meaning is not in the word — it is in the use. "For a large class of cases the meaning of a word is its use in the language." Language is not one logical system but an open plurality of language games — giving orders, telling jokes, greeting, praying, building — each with its own grammar, its own way of working. And these games don't float in the abstract. They are woven into activity, into forms of life. The builders calling for slabs — the form of life is building. The shopkeeper counting apples — the form of life is exchanging.
He finished his philosophical career in 1947, and continued to work in solitude. The fact that this part of his work was only published after his death is best explained by his own words: "I tried to force my thoughts into a unified whole but couldn't — the best that I could write would never be more than philosophical remarks."
A language with a strict logical backbone sits well with a distant reality that needs to be described, all from an outside observer's viewpoint. The turn from language to language game, from language game to form of life, places reality within the language — how we relate to each other and the world. The observer is no longer outside looking in. The observer is in it.
He wasn't alone in making that turn. Physics was moving the same way — from the outside observer of classical mechanics to the participant-observer of quantum mechanics, where properties arise in interaction, not in isolation. Something was in the air.
Wittgenstein embodies the turn, he existed on both sides. He started on the analytical side of philosophy — logic, formal structure, precision - thinking he had nailed it. However, he returned, revisited and made the turn unlocking the door onto an approach more akin to the continental tradition. And that was where he left it, but he made the point.
Next up: Rorty, who walked through that door and kept going.
Photo: Sayan Hn / Unsplash

