Summary and Conclusion

If I say: here we are at the limits of language, then it always seems as if resignation were necessary, whereas on the contrary complete satisfaction comes, since no question remains.

The Big Typescript §89

In chapter 1 I determined that the fundamental view of idealism contained the assumption that reality is limited by our ability to conceive it: there is nothing that is inconceivable. I defined the term ‘formal dependence’ to mean a dependence between a concept and the object, property or fact it picks out, such that there is a formal dependence between any object, property or fact of kind A and the concept C that picks it out as an object of kind A. Thus we can define conceptual idealism as a doctrine of formal dependence with a conjunction of the following claims:

(i) There can be interesting metaphysical explanations;

(ii) there is a necessary correspondence between the concepts we use and the nature of the objects, properties and facts picked out by them; such that,

(iii) insofar as a thing can be thought about at all, it necessarily falls under some possible concept.

A metaphysical explanation is one that explains the way things seem (or happen to be conceptualised) on the basis of the way things really are. It is ‘interesting’ so long as it generates knowledge. Claim (i) is central to the conceptual idealist position, since conceptual idealism is essentially an answer to the Kantian question ‘How is metaphysics possible?’ It is offered as an alternative to the traditional position of conceptual realism, which denies (ii) and consequently (iii). Instead, the conceptual realist holds that our concepts are contingently related to the nature of the things they pick out. Our concepts are considered to be approximations or derivations of the things they correspond to. This process of deriving concepts from the objects they correspond to – or from abstract pure forms of those objects – is what is taken to justify the conceptual realist’s claims to metaphysics. Someone who denies (i) for a particular domain of discourse is said to be a quietist with respect to that domain.

The crucial point of difference between the conceptual idealist and the conceptual realist hangs on whether there could be something that we could not in principle conceptualise. But this debate between the conceptual idealist and the conceptual realist has the form of an irresolvable dispute: any apparent counterexample to the conceptual idealist’s claim only counts as a counterexample in virtue of the point at issue. Like so many philosophical disputes, there seems to be no common ground on which to assess this fundamental difference. The quietist intuition is that this situation indicates that we have reached the limits of language. The appropriate response is to neither assert nor deny the existence of things that we cannot conceptualise. What the conceptual realist is trying to speak of is “not a something but not a nothing either.” Since we can say nothing more here, we should return to the kinds of explanations that we can give.

This thesis set out to define Wittgenstein’s relationship to the tradition of conceptual idealism. It explored some prima facie reasons for associating Wittgenstein with that tradition. First, he rejects certain philosophical conceptions of meaning that are preferred by the conceptual realist. Second, his remarks on private language amount to a rejection of the ‘given’ analogous to the conceptual idealist’s rejection of the dualism of scheme and content. Third, his philosophy is concerned with the limits of language.

Wittgenstein rejects philosophical theories of meaning. In particular, he rejects the kind of theory he himself was previously inclined to give. The concept of meaning that he attacks is based on the model of ‘object and designation’. It assumes that meaning must be something in addition to its use. The conceptual realist finds this concept of meaning inevitable because he wants a ‘justification’ of the use of a word in the sense that it must both (a) be something (some ‘object’) that is independent of that use, and (b) provide me with reasons for using it (it must guide my use, or determine how I ought to use it). But this kind of justification is, according to Wittgenstein, as unnecessary as it is impossible. Nothing can satisfy both (a) and (b). Anything external to the use of a word remains hopelessly ambiguous as a guide to use. We cannot learn the nature of an object simply by examining it unless we already have a concept of that object in mind. Otherwise we could not pick out that object in a way that would enable a regularity of use.

It follows from this that the idea that our lowest level conceptualisations are grounded in acquaintance with the ‘given’ is mistaken. The idea that we might use language privately to refer to sensations without conceptual form is based on the same misguided notion of meaning. Empiricism is false. To the extent that Kant holds that the given can play some explanatory role in metaphysics, Wittgenstein’s arguments are also directed against Kant. It is not simply that the given cannot be known independently of the understanding: a ‘non-conceptual object’ cannot even be considered. But note that this rejection is a grammatical rejection. Wittgenstein does not deny anything – he simply shows how certain combinations of signs are meaningless. He is showing us the limits of language, and therefore of our explanations.

I argued in chapter 2 that his concern with the limits of language in the Tractatus amounts to a kind of conceptual idealism (albeit combined with certain conceptual realist tendencies concerning meaning). Wittgenstein remained concerned throughout his work with the limits of language. But the later Wittgenstein is not an idealist. Those who hold that he is committed to an idealist doctrine assume that, contrary to his own insistence, he is committed to some substantial metaphysical claims. This view is encouraged by the fact that Wittgenstein’s remarks on philosophy have seemed to many to be an incomprehensible distraction from his real contribution to that discipline. I have argued that this is a mistake. Wittgenstein maintained a view of language that explicitly ruled out the isomorphism between language and the world that the conceptual idealist is committed to. And far from being an incomprehensible or self-contradictory anomaly, his remarks on philosophy are central to his thought. Understanding them is essential to understanding his philosophy as a whole.

Wittgenstein argues for general quietism: he claims that the only metaphysical ‘explanations’ possible are either trivial or unjustifiable. By trivial I mean that they would amount to nothing more than ‘grammatical observations’. Once we have a perspicuous representation of language, the need for explanations that go further than the observable surface structure become unnecessary. In any case, they are ultimately impossible: they are an attempt to provide philosophical justification where there can be none. Any justification would have to describe what was being justified, and that presupposes a grammar, which in turn stands in need of justification. A reality that is not conceptualised using some (ultimately unjustified) grammar cannot enter into our justifications. In particular it cannot justify the use, private or otherwise, that we make of certain signs.

I have not attempted to argue conclusively for the truth of Wittgenstein’s claims with respect to philosophy. To do so one would have to show that they followed from a representation of language that was both complete and ultimately based upon observation rather than conjecture. This is a task that perhaps even Wittgenstein did not complete. But in the course of this investigation we have seen that, contrary to initial appearances, Wittgenstein’s views on philosophy are not obviously self-contradictory. They result from a sustained attempt to develop a perspicuous representation of language. And this representation seems natural and convincing. At most we might object that it is, as yet, incomplete. And perhaps it is inevitably so: for to get a complete and simple representation would require stepping outside of our language-games altogether. And that is something we cannot do.

So I think we are right to remain suspicious about the generality of the quietist position. It is vulnerable to the charge that it over-generalises its representation of language. It is vulnerable, that is, to possible counter-examples of parts of language that work in a very different way, and it is vulnerable to philosophical theses that are not demonstrably false. Wittgenstein successfully destroyed the ‘mythology of symbolism and of psychology’, but I do not think I have shown that Wittgenstein has said enough to rule out any form of philosophical thesis. Most importantly, it is not at all clear that all philosophical problems arise from misunderstandings that can be cleared away using description alone. I do think, however, that Wittgenstein demonstrated how a quietist methodology may, in particular cases, “bring philosophy peace”.

In the final chapter I tried to demonstrate the power of a quietist methodology when applied to a limited domain. In the course of this thesis I touched upon various problems in the philosophy of the self and subjectivity. These problems are ripe for a quietist treatment, because they are apt to invoke very strong, but contradictory intuitions. Some of these intuitions are the product of rigorous argument and reasoning, but some are fundamental intuitions that are engrained in the very nature of experience itself: the what-it’s-like to be conscious. When faced with an irresolvable dispute, the only way to make progress is to look at the assumptions that underlie it. If these assumptions are unjustified, then the tension of the irresolvable dispute that results from them provides enough reason to consider overthrowing one or more of those assumptions – however natural they seem to the philosophical mind.

The quietist response to the concept of qualia is to suggest that both the assertion of the disputed entity, and therefore its denial, are not significant propositions. The task of philosophy at such an impasse is to accept that no further explanation is available through philosophical investigation. The discovery that ‘nothing more can be said here’ is one of the most important discoveries in philosophy. In general, any intuition that suggests that there is something beyond our capacity to conceptualise can never be specified, and the only correct response is to offer no theory or explanation at all. The problematic concepts that such intuitions give rise to should not be rejected out of hand, however. They serve an important role in philosophy. They are markers at the bounds of sense.

It is the emphasis placed of these markers that distinguishes the quietist from the conceptual idealist. In his eager dismissal of all things beyond the limits of our conceptual scheme, conceptual idealism actually crosses that boundary. By setting a limit to what there can be (rather than what can be said), the conceptual idealist implicitly denies that there can be anything else. He denies, that is, the claims of the conceptual realist. But if the conceptual realist’s claims are nonsense, so is their negation. The question that is at the core of the dispute – whether there can be things that we cannot conceptualise – can have no answer. For to do so would be to step outside the limits of our concepts. But if Wittgenstein is right, a question cannot be unanswerable. The apparent question must itself be misconceived. This indicates that neither conceptual idealism nor conceptual realism can adequately articulate the limits of meaning and metaphysics. Our understanding of the connection between language and the world has a limit – precisely because we understand the world using language.

If quietism brings philosophy peace, it does so at a cost. We must overcome the desire to offer explanations. Sometimes we must face the fact that our understanding has come to an end. But if Wittgenstein is right, this will only occur when we come up against the limits of language. And if we recognise that we have reached those limits, we will recognise that there is no longer any explanation required, because there are no questions left to answer. We have exhausted our reasons and reached the point where we cannot assert or deny anything. Beyond the limits of language, there is only nonsense. Where our concepts and explanations come to an end, we should be silent.

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