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Certainly, ‒ ‒ ‒ but observe what sort of thing you are doing if you speak without thinking. Observe first of all that the process which we might call “speaking and meaning what you speak” is not necessarily distinguished from that of thoughtlessly speaking by what happens at the time when you speak. What distinguishes the two might very well be what happens before or after you speak. | Certainly, ‒ ‒ ‒ but observe what sort of thing you are doing if you speak without thinking. Observe first of all that the process which we might call “speaking and meaning what you speak” is not necessarily distinguished from that of thoughtlessly speaking by what happens at the time when you speak. What distinguishes the two might very well be what happens before or after you speak. | ||
Suppose I tried, deliberately, to speak without thinking; ‒ ‒ ‒ what in fact would I do? I might read out a sentence from a book, trying to read it automatically, that is, trying to prevent myself from following the sentence with images and sensations which otherwise it would produce. A way of doing this would be to concentrate my attention on something else while I was speaking the sentence, e.g., by pinching my skin hard while I was speaking. ‒ ‒ ‒ Put it this way: Speaking a sentence without thinking consists in switching on speech and switching off certain accompaniments of speech. Now ask yourself: Does thinking the sentence without speaking it consist in turning over the switch (switching on what we previously switched off and vice versa); that is: does thinking the sentence without speaking it now simply consist in keeping on what accompanied the words but leaving out the words? Try to think the thoughts of a sentence without the sentence and see whether this is what happens. | Suppose I tried, deliberately, to speak without thinking; ‒ ‒ ‒ what in fact would I do? I might read out a sentence from a book, trying to read it automatically, that is, trying to prevent myself from following the sentence with images and sensations which otherwise it would produce. A way of doing this would be to concentrate my attention on something else while I was speaking the sentence, e.g., by pinching my skin hard while I was speaking. ‒ ‒ ‒ Put it this way: Speaking a sentence without thinking consists in switching on speech and switching off certain accompaniments of speech. Now ask yourself: Does thinking the sentence without speaking it consist in turning over the switch (switching on what we previously switched off and vice versa); that is: does thinking the sentence without speaking it now simply consist in keeping on what accompanied the words but leaving out the words? Try to think the thoughts of a sentence without the sentence and see whether this is what happens. | ||
Let us sum up: If we scrutinize the usages which we make of such words as “thinking”, “meaning”, “wishing”, etc., {{MS reference|Ts-309,71}} going through this process rids us of the temptation to look for a peculiar act of thinking, independent of the act of expressing our thoughts, and stowed away in some peculiar medium. We are no longer prevented by the established forms of expression from recognizing that the experience of thinking may be just the experience of saying, or may consist of this experience plus others which accompany it. (It is useful also to examine the following case: Suppose a multiplication is part of a sentence; ask yourself what it is like to say the multiplication “7 × 5 = 35”, thinking it, and, on the other hand, saying it without thinking.) The scrutiny of the grammar of a word weakens the position of certain standards of our expression which had prevented us from seeing facts with unbiassed eyes. Our investigation tried to remove this bias, which forces us to think that the facts must conform to certain pictures embodied in our language. | |||
“Meaning” is one of the words of which one may say that they have odd jobs in our language. It is these words which cause most philosophical troubles. Imagine an institution most members of which have certain regular functions, functions which can easily be described, say, in the statutes of the institution. There are, on the other hand, some members who are employed for odd jobs, which nevertheless may be extremely important. ‒ ‒ ‒ What causes most trouble in philosophy is that we are tempted to describe the use of important “odd-job” words as though they were words with regular functions. {{MS reference|Ts-309,72}} | |||
“Meaning” is one of the words of which one may say that they have odd jobs in our language. It is these words which cause most philosophical troubles. Imagine an institution most members of which have certain regular functions, functions which can easily be described, say, in the statutes of the institution. There are, on the other hand, some members who are employed for odd jobs, which nevertheless may be extremely important. ‒ ‒ ‒ What causes most trouble in philosophy is that we are tempted to describe the use of important “odd-job” words as though they were words with regular functions. | |||
Ts-309,72 | |||
The reason I postponed talking about personal experiences was that thinking about this topic raises a host of philosophical difficulties which threaten to break up all our common-sense notions about what we should commonly call the objects of our experience. And being struck by these problems it might seem to us that all we have said about signs and the various objects we mentioned in our examples may have to go into the melting-pot. | The reason I postponed talking about personal experiences was that thinking about this topic raises a host of philosophical difficulties which threaten to break up all our common-sense notions about what we should commonly call the objects of our experience. And being struck by these problems it might seem to us that all we have said about signs and the various objects we mentioned in our examples may have to go into the melting-pot. | ||
The situation in a way is typical in the study of philosophy; and one sometimes has described it by saying that no philosophical problem can be solved until all philosophical problems are solved; which means that as long as they aren't all solved every new difficulty renders all our previous results questionable. One can only give a rough answer to this if one speaks in such general terms. It is, that every new problem may question the position which partial results should occupy in the final picture. One then speaks of having to reinterpret these results; and I should say: they have to be placed in a different surrounding. | The situation in a way is typical in the study of philosophy; and one sometimes has described it by saying that no philosophical problem can be solved until all philosophical problems are solved; which means that as long as they aren't all solved every new difficulty renders all our previous results questionable. One can only give a rough answer to this if one speaks in such general terms. It is, that every new problem may question the position which partial results should occupy in the final picture. One then speaks of having to reinterpret these results; and I should say: they have to be placed in a different surrounding. | ||
Imagine we had to arrange the books of a library. When we begin the books lie higgledy-piggledy on the floor. Now there would be many ways of sorting them and putting them in their places. One would be to take the books one by one and put each on the shelf in its right place. On the other hand {{MS reference|Ts-309,73}} we might take up several books from the floor and put them in a row on a shelf, merely in order to indicate that these books ought to go together in this order. In the course of arranging the library this whole row of books will have to change its place. But it would be wrong to say that therefore putting them together on a shelf was no step towards the final result. In this case, in fact, it is pretty obvious that having put together books which belong together was a definite achievement, even though the whole row of them had to be shifted. But some of the greatest achievements in philosophy could only be compared with taking up some books which seemed to belong together, and putting them on different shelves; nothing more being final about their positions than that they no longer lie side by side. The onlooker who doesn't know the difficulty of the task might well think in such a case that nothing at all had been achieved. ‒ ‒ ‒ The difficulty in philosophy is to say no more than we know. E.g., to see that when we have put two books together in their right order we have not thereby put them in their final places. | |||
Imagine we had to arrange the books of a library. When we begin the books lie higgledy-piggledy on the floor. Now there would be many ways of sorting them and putting them in their places. One would be to take the books one by one and put each on the shelf in its right place. On the other hand | |||
Ts-309,73 | |||
we might take up several books from the floor and put them in a row on a shelf, merely in order to indicate that these books ought to go together in this order. In the course of arranging the library this whole row of books will have to change its place. But it would be wrong to say that therefore putting them together on a shelf was no step towards the final result. In this case, in fact, it is pretty obvious that having put together books which belong together was a definite achievement, even though the whole row of them had to be shifted. But some of the greatest achievements in philosophy could only be compared with taking up some books which seemed to belong together, and putting them on different shelves; nothing more being final about their positions than that they no longer lie side by side. The onlooker who doesn't know the difficulty of the task might well think in such a case that nothing at all had been achieved. ‒ ‒ ‒ The difficulty in philosophy is to say no more than we know. E.g., to see that when we have put two books together in their right order we have not thereby put them in their final places. | |||
When we think about the relation of the objects surrounding us to our personal experiences of them, we are sometimes tempted to say that these personal experiences are the material of which reality consists. How this temptation arises will become clearer later on. | When we think about the relation of the objects surrounding us to our personal experiences of them, we are sometimes tempted to say that these personal experiences are the material of which reality consists. How this temptation arises will become clearer later on. | ||
When we think in this way we seem to lose our firm hold on the objects surrounding us. And instead we are left with {{MS reference|Ts-309,74}} a lot of separate personal experiences of individuals. These personal experiences again seem vague and seem to be in constant flux. Our language seems not to have been made to describe them. We are tempted to think that in order to clear up such matters philosophically our ordinary language is too coarse, that we need a more subtle one. | |||
When we think in this way we seem to lose our firm hold on the objects surrounding us. And instead we are left with | |||
Ts-309,74 | |||
a lot of separate personal experiences of individuals. These personal experiences again seem vague and seem to be in constant flux. Our language seems not to have been made to describe them. We are tempted to think that in order to clear up such matters philosophically our ordinary language is too coarse, that we need a more subtle one. | |||
We seem to have made a discovery, ‒ ‒ ‒ which I could describe by saying that the ground on which we stood and which appeared to be firm and reliable was found to be boggy and unsafe. ‒ ‒ ‒ That is, this happens when we philosophize; for as soon as we revert to the standpoint of common sense this general uncertainty disappears. | We seem to have made a discovery, ‒ ‒ ‒ which I could describe by saying that the ground on which we stood and which appeared to be firm and reliable was found to be boggy and unsafe. ‒ ‒ ‒ That is, this happens when we philosophize; for as soon as we revert to the standpoint of common sense this general uncertainty disappears. | ||
This queer situation can be cleared up somewhat by looking at an example; in fact a kind of parable illustrating the difficulty we are in, and also showing the way out of this sort of difficulty: We have been told by popular scientists that the floor on which we stand is not solid, as it appears to common sense, as it has been discovered that the wood consists of particles filling space so thinly that it can almost be called empty. This is liable to perplex us, for in a way of course we know that the floor is solid, or that, if it isn't solid, this may be due to the wood being rotten but not to its being composed of electrons. To say, on this latter ground, that the floor is not solid is to misuse language. For even if the particles were as big as grains of sand, and as close together as these are in a sand heap, the {{MS reference|Ts-309,75}} floor would not be solid if it were composed of them in the sense in which a sand heap is composed of grains. Our perplexity was based on a misunderstanding; the picture of the thinly filled space had been wrongly applied. For this picture of the structure of matter was meant to explain the very phenomenon of solidity. | |||
This queer situation can be cleared up somewhat by looking at an example; in fact a kind of parable illustrating the difficulty we are in, and also showing the way out of this sort of difficulty: We have been told by popular scientists that the floor on which we stand is not solid, as it appears to common sense, as it has been discovered that the wood consists of particles filling space so thinly that it can almost be called empty. This is liable to perplex us, for in a way of course we know that the floor is solid, or that, if it isn't solid, this may be due to the wood being rotten but not to its being composed of electrons. To say, on this latter ground, that the floor is not solid is to misuse language. For even if the particles were as big as grains of sand, and as close together as these are in a sand heap, the | |||
Ts-309,75 | |||
floor would not be solid if it were composed of them in the sense in which a sand heap is composed of grains. Our perplexity was based on a misunderstanding; the picture of the thinly filled space had been wrongly applied. For this picture of the structure of matter was meant to explain the very phenomenon of solidity. | |||
As in this example the word “solidity” was used wrongly and it seemed that we had shown that nothing really was solid, just in this way, in stating our puzzles about the general vagueness of sense-experience, and about the flux of all phenomena, we are using the words “flux” and “vagueness” wrongly, in a typically metaphysical way, namely, without an antithesis; whereas in their correct and everyday use, vagueness is opposed to clearness, flux to stability, inaccuracy to accuracy, and problem to solution. The very word “problem”, one might say, is misapplied when used for our philosophical troubles. These difficulties, as long as they are seen as problems, are tantalizing, and appear insoluble. | As in this example the word “solidity” was used wrongly and it seemed that we had shown that nothing really was solid, just in this way, in stating our puzzles about the general vagueness of sense-experience, and about the flux of all phenomena, we are using the words “flux” and “vagueness” wrongly, in a typically metaphysical way, namely, without an antithesis; whereas in their correct and everyday use, vagueness is opposed to clearness, flux to stability, inaccuracy to accuracy, and problem to solution. The very word “problem”, one might say, is misapplied when used for our philosophical troubles. These difficulties, as long as they are seen as problems, are tantalizing, and appear insoluble. | ||
There is a temptation for me to say that only my own experience is real: “I know that I see, hear, feel pains, etc. but not that anyone else does. I can't know this, because I am I and they are they.” | There is a temptation for me to say that only my own experience is real: “I know that I see, hear, feel pains, etc. but not that anyone else does. I can't know this, because I am I and they are they.” | ||
On the other hand I feel ashamed to say to anyone that my experience is the only real one; and I know that he will reply that he could say exactly the same thing about his experience. This seems to lead to a silly quibble. Also {{MS reference|Ts-309,76}} I am told: “If you pity someone for having pains, surely you must at least believe that he has pains”. But how can I even believe this? How can these words make sense to me? How could I even have come by the idea of another's experience if there is no possibility of any evidence for it? | |||
But wasn't this a queer question to ask? Can't I believe that someone else has pains? Is it not quite easy to believe this? ‒ ‒ ‒ Is it an answer to say that things are as they appear to common sense? ‒ ‒ ‒ Again, needless to say, we don't feel these difficulties in ordinary life. Nor is it true to say that we feel them when we scrutinize our experiences by introspection, or make scientific investigations about them. But somehow, when we look at them in a certain way, our expression is liable to get into a tangle. It seems to us as though we had either the wrong pieces, or not enough of them, to put together our jig-saw puzzle. But they are all there, only all mixed up; and there is a further analogy between the jig-saw puzzle and our case: It's no use trying to apply force in fitting pieces together. All we should do is to look at them carefully and arrange them. {{MS reference|Ts-309,77}} | |||
But wasn't this a queer question to ask? Can't I believe that someone else has pains? Is it not quite easy to believe this? ‒ ‒ ‒ Is it an answer to say that things are as they appear to common sense? ‒ ‒ ‒ Again, needless to say, we don't feel these difficulties in ordinary life. Nor is it true to say that we feel them when we scrutinize our experiences by introspection, or make scientific investigations about them. But somehow, when we look at them in a certain way, our expression is liable to get into a tangle. It seems to us as though we had either the wrong pieces, or not enough of them, to put together our jig-saw puzzle. But they are all there, only all mixed up; and there is a further analogy between the jig-saw puzzle and our case: It's no use trying to apply force in fitting pieces together. All we should do is to look at them carefully and arrange them. | |||
Ts-309,77 | |||
There are propositions of which we may say that they describe facts in the material world (external world). Roughly speaking, they treat of physical objects; bodies, fluids, etc. I am not thinking in particular of the laws of the natural sciences, but of any such proposition as “the tulips in our garden are in full bloom”, or “Smith will come in any moment”. There are on the other hand propositions describing personal experiences, as when the subject in a psychological experiment describes his sense-experiences; say his visual experience, independent of what bodies are actually before his eyes and, N.B., independent also of any processes which might be observed to take place in his retina, his nerves, his brain, or other parts of his body. (That is, independent of both physical and physiological facts.) | There are propositions of which we may say that they describe facts in the material world (external world). Roughly speaking, they treat of physical objects; bodies, fluids, etc. I am not thinking in particular of the laws of the natural sciences, but of any such proposition as “the tulips in our garden are in full bloom”, or “Smith will come in any moment”. There are on the other hand propositions describing personal experiences, as when the subject in a psychological experiment describes his sense-experiences; say his visual experience, independent of what bodies are actually before his eyes and, N.B., independent also of any processes which might be observed to take place in his retina, his nerves, his brain, or other parts of his body. (That is, independent of both physical and physiological facts.) | ||
At first sight it may appear (but why it should can only become clear later) that here we have two kinds of worlds, worlds built of different materials; a mental world and a physical world. The mental world in fact is liable to be imagined as gaseous, or rather, ethereal. But let me remind you here of the queer role which the gaseous and the ethereal play in philosophy, ‒ ‒ ‒ 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 ethereal object. I mean, we already know the idea of “ethereal objects” as a subterfuge, when we are embarrassed about the grammar of certain words {{MS reference|Ts-309,78}} and when all we know is that they are not used as names for material objects. This is a hint as to how the problem of the two materials, mind and matter, is going to dissolve. | |||
It seems to us sometimes as though the phenomena of personal experience were in a way phenomena in the upper strata of the atmosphere as opposed to the material phenomena which happen on the ground. There are views according to which these phenomena in the upper strata arise when the material phenomena reach a certain degree of complexity. E.g., that the mental phenomena, sense experience, volition, etc., emerge when a type of animal body of a certain complexity has been evolved. There seems to be some obvious truth in this, for the amoeba certainly doesn't speak or write or discuss, whereas we do. On the other hand the problem here arises which could be expressed by the question: “Is it possible for a machine to think?” (whether the action of this machine can be described and predicted by the laws of physics or, possibly, only by laws of a different kind applying to the behaviour of organisms). And the trouble which is expressed in this question is not really that we don't yet know a machine which could do the job. The question is not analogous to that which someone might have asked a hundred years ago: “Can a machine liquefy a gas?” The trouble is rather that the sentence, “A machine thinks” (perceives, wishes) seems somehow nonsensical. It is as though we had asked “Has the number 3 a colour?” (“What colour could it be, as it obviously {{MS reference|Ts-309,79}} has none of the colours known to us?”) For in one aspect of the matter, personal experience, far from being the product of physical, chemical, physiological processes, seems to be the very basis of all that we say with any sense about such processes. Looking at it in this way we are inclined to use our idea of a building-material in yet another misleading way, and to say that the whole world, mental and physical, is made of one material only. | |||
It seems to us sometimes as though the phenomena of personal experience were in a way phenomena in the upper strata of the atmosphere as opposed to the material phenomena which happen on the ground. There are views according to which these phenomena in the upper strata arise when the material phenomena reach a certain degree of complexity. E.g., that the mental phenomena, sense experience, volition, etc., emerge when a type of animal body of a certain complexity has been evolved. There seems to be some obvious truth in this, for the amoeba certainly doesn't speak or write or discuss, whereas we do. On the other hand the problem here arises which could be expressed by the question: “Is it possible for a machine to think?” (whether the action of this machine can be described and predicted by the laws of physics or, possibly, only by laws of a different kind applying to the behaviour of organisms). And the trouble which is expressed in this question is not really that we don't yet know a machine which could do the job. The question is not analogous to that which someone might have asked a hundred years ago: “Can a machine liquefy a gas?” The trouble is rather that the sentence, “A machine thinks” (perceives, wishes) seems somehow nonsensical. It is as though we had asked “Has the number 3 a colour?” (“What colour could it be, as it obviously | |||
Ts-309,79 | |||
has none of the colours known to us?”) For in one aspect of the matter, personal experience, far from being the product of physical, chemical, physiological processes, seems to be the very basis of all that we say with any sense about such processes. Looking at it in this way we are inclined to use our idea of a building-material in yet another misleading way, and to say that the whole world, mental and physical, is made of one material only. | |||
When we look at everything that we know and can say about the world as resting upon personal experience, then what we know seems to lose a good deal of its value, reliability, and solidity. We are then inclined to say that it is all “subjective”; and “subjective” is used derogatively, as when we say that an opinion is merely subjective, a matter of taste. Now, that this aspect should seem to shake the authority of experience and knowledge points to the fact that here our language is tempting us to draw some misleading analogy. This should remind us of the case, when the popular scientist appeared to have shown that the floor which we stand on is not really solid because it is made up of electrons. | When we look at everything that we know and can say about the world as resting upon personal experience, then what we know seems to lose a good deal of its value, reliability, and solidity. We are then inclined to say that it is all “subjective”; and “subjective” is used derogatively, as when we say that an opinion is merely subjective, a matter of taste. Now, that this aspect should seem to shake the authority of experience and knowledge points to the fact that here our language is tempting us to draw some misleading analogy. This should remind us of the case, when the popular scientist appeared to have shown that the floor which we stand on is not really solid because it is made up of electrons. | ||
We are up against trouble caused by our way of expression. | We are up against trouble caused by our way of expression. | ||
Another such trouble, closely akin, is expressed in the sentence: “I can only know that I have personal experiences, not that anyone else has”. ‒ ‒ ‒ Shall we then call it an unnecessary hypothesis that anyone else has personal experiences? ‒ ‒ ‒ But is it an hypothesis at all? For how can I even make {{MS reference|Ts-309,80}} the hypothesis if it transcends all possible experience? How could such a hypothesis be backed by meaning? (Is it not like paper money, not backed by gold?) ‒ ‒ ‒ It doesn't help if anyone tells us that, though we don't know whether the other person has pains, we certainly believe it when, for instance, we pity him. Certainly we shouldn't pity him if we didn't believe that he had pains; but is this a philosophical, a metaphysical, belief: Does a realist pity me more than an idealist or a solipsist? ‒ ‒ ‒ In fact the solipsist asks: “How can we believe that the other has pain; what does it mean to believe this? How can the expression of such a supposition make sense?” Now the answer of the common sense philosopher (which, N.B., is not the common sense man, who is as far from realism as from idealism) the answer of the common sense philosopher is that surely there is no difficulty in the idea of supposing, thinking, imagining, that someone else has what I have. But the trouble with the realist is always that he does not solve but skip the difficulties which his adversaries see, though they too don't succeed in solving them. The realist answer, for us, just brings out the difficulty; for who argues like this overlooks the difference between different usages of the words “to have”, “to imagine”. “A has a gold tooth” means that the tooth is in A's mouth. Now the case of his toothache, of which I say I am not able to feel it because it is in his mouth, is not analogous to the case of the gold {{MS reference|Ts-309,81}} tooth. It is the apparent analogy, and again the lack of analogy, between these cases which causes our trouble. And it is this troublesome feature in our grammar which the realist does not notice. It is conceivable that I feel pain in a tooth in another man's mouth; and the man who says that he cannot feel the other's toothache is not denying this. The grammatical difficulty which we are in we shall only see clearly if we get familiar with the idea of feeling pain in another person's body. For otherwise, in puzzling about this problem, we shall be liable to confuse our metaphysical proposition “I can't feel his pain” with the experiential proposition, “We can't have (haven't as a rule) pains in another person's tooth”. In this proposition the word “can't” is used in the same way as in the proposition “An iron nail can't scratch glass”. (We could write this in the form “experience teaches that an iron nail doesn't scratch glass”, thus doing away with the “can't”). In order to see that it is conceivable that one person should have pain in another person's body, one must examine what sort of facts we call criteria for a pain being in a certain place. It is easy to imagine the following case: When I see my hands I am not always aware of their connection with the rest of my body. That is to say, I often see my hand moving but don't see the arm which connects it to my torso. Nor do I necessarily, at the time, check up on the arm's existence in any other way. Therefore the hand may, for all I know, be connected to the {{MS reference|Ts-309,82}} body of a man standing beside me (or, of course, not to a human body at all). Suppose I feel a pain which in the evidence of the pain alone, e.g., with closed eyes, I should call a pain in my left hand. Someone asks me to touch the painful spot with my right hand. I do so and looking round perceive that I am touching my neighbour's hand (meaning the hand connected to my neighbour's torso.) | |||
Ask yourself: How do we know where to point to when we are asked to point to the painful spot? Can this sort of pointing be compared with pointing to a black spot on a sheet of paper when someone says: “point to the black spot on this sheet.” Suppose someone said “You point to this spot because you know before you point that the pains are there”; ask yourself “What does it mean to know that the pains are there?” The word “there” refers to a locality; ‒ ‒ ‒ but in what space, i.e., a “locality” in what sense? Do we know the place of pain in Euclidian space, so that when we know where we have pains we know how far away from two of the walls of this room, and from the floor? When I have pain in the tip of my finger and touch my tooth with it, is my pain now both a toothache and a pain in my finger? Certainly in one sense the pain can be said to be located on the tooth. Is the reason why in this case it is wrong to say I have toothache, that in order to be in the tooth the pain should be one sixteenth of an inch away from the tip of my finger? Remember that the word “where” can refer to localities in many different {{MS reference|Ts-309,83}} senses. (Many different grammatical games, resembling each other more or less, are played with this word. Think of the different uses of the numeral “1”.) I may know where a thing is and then point to it by virtue of that knowledge. The knowledge tells me where to point to. We here conceived this knowledge as the condition for deliberately pointing to the object. Thus one can say: “I can point to the spot you mean because I see it”, “I can direct you to the place because I know where it is; first turning to the right, etc.” Now one is inclined to say “I must know where a thing is before I can point to it”. Perhaps you will feel less happy about saying: “I must know where a thing is before I can look at it”. Sometimes of course it is correct to say this. But we are tempted to think that there is one particular psychical state or event, the knowledge of the place, which must precede every deliberate act of pointing, moving towards, etc. Think of the analogous case: “One can only obey an order after having understood it”. | |||
If I point to the painful spot on my arm, in what sense can I be said to have known where the pain was before I pointed to the place? Before I pointed I could have said “The pain is in my left arm”. Supposing my arm had been covered with a meshwork of lines numbered in such a way that I could refer to any place on its surface. Was it necessary that I should have been able to describe the painful spot by means of these co-ordinates before I could point to it? What I wish to say is that the act of pointing determines a place of pain. This {{MS reference|Ts-309,84}} act of pointing, by the way, is not to be confused with that of finding the painful spot by probing. In fact the two may lead to different results. | |||
If I point to the painful spot on my arm, in what sense can I be said to have known where the pain was before I pointed to the place? Before I pointed I could have said “The pain is in my left arm”. Supposing my arm had been covered with a meshwork of lines numbered in such a way that I could refer to any place on its surface. Was it necessary that I should have been able to describe the painful spot by means of these co-ordinates before I could point to it? What I wish to say is that the act of pointing determines a place of pain. This | |||
Ts-309,84 | |||
act of pointing, by the way, is not to be confused with that of finding the painful spot by probing. In fact the two may lead to different results. | |||
An innumerable variety of cases can be thought of in which we should say that someone has pains in another person's body; or, say, in a piece of furniture, or in any empty spot. Of course we mustn't forget that a pain in a particular part of our body, e.g., in an upper tooth, has a peculiar tactile and kinaesthetic neighbourhood; moving our hand upward a little distance we touch our eye; and the word “little distance” here refers to tactile distance or kinaesthetic distance, or both. (It is easy to imagine tactile and kinaesthetic distances correlated in ways different from the usual. The distance from our mouth to our eye might seem very great “to the muscles of our arm” when we move our finger from the mouth to the eye. Think how large you imagine the cavity of your tooth when the dentist is drilling and probing it.) | An innumerable variety of cases can be thought of in which we should say that someone has pains in another person's body; or, say, in a piece of furniture, or in any empty spot. Of course we mustn't forget that a pain in a particular part of our body, e.g., in an upper tooth, has a peculiar tactile and kinaesthetic neighbourhood; moving our hand upward a little distance we touch our eye; and the word “little distance” here refers to tactile distance or kinaesthetic distance, or both. (It is easy to imagine tactile and kinaesthetic distances correlated in ways different from the usual. The distance from our mouth to our eye might seem very great “to the muscles of our arm” when we move our finger from the mouth to the eye. Think how large you imagine the cavity of your tooth when the dentist is drilling and probing it.) | ||
When I said that if we moved our hand upward a little, we touch our eye, I was referring to tactile evidence only. That is, the criterion for my finger touching my eye was to be only that I had the particular feeling which would have made me say that I was touching my eye, even if I had no visual evidence for it, and even if, on looking into a mirror, I saw my finger not touching my eye but, say, my forehead. Just as the “little distance” I referred to was a tactile or kinaesthetic one, so also the places of which I said, “they {{MS reference|Ts-309,85}} lie a little distance apart” were tactile places. To say that my finger in tactile and kinaesthetic space moves from my tooth to my eye then means that I have those tactile and kinaesthetic experiences which we normally have when we say “my finger moves from my tooth to my eye”. But what we regard as evidence for this latter proposition is, as we all know, by no means only tactile and kinaesthetic. In fact if I had the tactile and kinaesthetic sensations referred to, I might still deny the proposition “my finger moves … etc. …” because of what I saw. That proposition is a proposition about physical objects. (And now don't think that the expression “physical objects” is meant to distinguish one kind of physical object from another.) The grammar of propositions which we call propositions about physical objects admits of a variety of evidences for every such proposition. It characterises the grammar of the proposition “my finger moves etc.” that I regard the propositions “I see it move”, “I feel it move”, “He sees it move”, “He tells me that it moves”, etc. as evidence for it. Now if I say “I see my hand move”, this at first sight seems to presuppose that I agree with the proposition “my hand moves”. But if I regard the proposition “I see my hand move” as one of the evidences for the proposition “my hand moves”, the truth of the latter is, of course, not presupposed in the truth of the former. One might therefore suggest the expression “It looks as though my hand were moving” instead of “I see my hand moving”. But this expression, {{MS reference|Ts-309,86}} although it indicates that my hand may appear to be moving without really moving, might still suggest that after all there must be a hand in order that it should appear to be moving; whereas we could easily imagine cases in which the proposition describing the visual evidence is true and at the same time other evidences make us say that I have no hand. Our ordinary way of expression obscures this. We are handicapped in ordinary language by having to describe, say, a tactile sensation by means of terms for physical objects such as the word “eye”, “finger”, etc. when what we want to say does not entail the existence of an eye or finger etc.: We have to use a roundabout description of our sensations. This of course does not mean that our ordinary language is insufficient for our purposes, but that it is slightly cumbrous and sometimes misleading. The reason for this peculiarity of our language is of course the regular coincidence of certain sense experiences. Thus when I feel my arm moving I mostly also can see it moving. And if I touch it with my hand, also that hand feels the motion, etc. (The man whose foot has been amputated will describe a particular pain as pain in his foot.) We feel in such cases a strong need for such an expression as: “a sensation travels from my tactile cheek to my tactile eye”. I said all this because, if you are aware of the tactile and kinaesthetic environment of a pain, you may find a difficulty in imagining that one could have toothache anywhere else than in one's own teeth. But if we {{MS reference|Ts-309,87}} imagine such a case, this simply means that we imagine a correlation between visual, tactile, kinaesthetic, etc., experiences different from the ordinary correlation. Thus we can imagine a person having the sensation of toothache plus those tactile and kinaesthetic experiences which are normally bound up with seeing his hand travelling from his tooth to his nose, to his eyes, etc., but correlated to the visual experience of his hand moving to those places in another person's face. Or again, we can imagine a person having the kinaesthetic sensation of moving his hand, and the tactile sensation, in his fingers and face, of his fingers moving over his face, whereas his kinaesthetic and visual sensations should have to be described as those of his fingers moving over his knee. If we had a sensation of toothache plus certain tactile and kinaesthetic sensations usually characteristic of touching the painful tooth and neighbouring parts of our face, and if these sensations were accompanied by seeing my hand touch, and move about on, the edge of my table, we should feel doubtful whether to call this experience an experience of toothache in the table or not. If, on the other hand, the tactile and kinaesthetic sensations described were correlated to the visual experience of seeing my hand touch a tooth and other parts of the face of another person, there is no doubt that I would call this experience “toothache in another person's tooth.” | |||
I said that the man who contended that it was impossible {{MS reference|Ts-309,88}} to feel the other person's pain did not thereby wish to deny that one person could feel pain in another person's body. In fact, he would have said: “I may have toothache in another man's tooth, but not his toothache”. | |||
I said that the man who contended that it was impossible | |||
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to feel the other person's pain did not thereby wish to deny that one person could feel pain in another person's body. In fact, he would have said: “I may have toothache in another man's tooth, but not his toothache”. | |||
Thus the proposition “A has a gold tooth” and “A has toothache” are not used analogously. They differ in their grammar where at first sight they might not seem to differ. | Thus the proposition “A has a gold tooth” and “A has toothache” are not used analogously. They differ in their grammar where at first sight they might not seem to differ. | ||
As to the use of the word “imagine” ‒ ‒ ‒ one might say: “Surely there is quite a definite act of imagining the other person to have pain”. Of course we don't deny this, or any other statement about facts. But let us see: If we make an image of the other person's pain, do we apply it in the same way in which we apply the image, say, of a black eye, when we imagine the other person having one? Let us again replace imagining, in the ordinary sense, by making a painted image, (This could quite well be the way certain beings did their imagining.) Then let a man imagine in this way that A has a black eye. A very important application of this picture will be comparing it with the real eye to see if the picture is correct. When we vividly imagine that someone suffers pain, there often enters in our image what one might call a shadow of a pain felt in the locality corresponding to that in which we say his pain is felt. But the sense in which an image is an image is determined by the way in which it is compared with reality. This we might call the method of projection. Now think of comparing an image of A's toothache with his {{MS reference|Ts-309,89}} toothache. How would you compare them? If you say, you compare them “indirectly” via his bodily behaviour, I answer that this means you don't compare them as you compare the picture of his behaviour with his behaviour. | |||
Again, when you say, “I grant you that you can't know when A has pain, you can only conjecture it”, you don't see the difficulty which lies in the different uses of the words “conjecturing” and “knowing”. What sort of impossibility were you referring to when you said you couldn't know? Weren't you thinking of a case analogous to that when one couldn't know whether the other man had a gold tooth in his mouth because he had his mouth shut? Here what you didn't know, you could nevertheless imagine to know; it made sense to say that you saw that tooth although you didn't see it; or rather, it makes sense to say that you don't see his tooth and therefore it also makes sense to say that you do. When on the other hand, you granted me that a man can't know whether the other person has pain, you do not wish to say that as a matter of fact people didn't know, but that it made no sense to say they knew (and therefore no sense to say they don't know). If therefore in this case you use the term “conjecture” or “believe”, you don't use it as opposed to “know”. That is, you did not state that knowing was a goal which you could not reach, and that you have to be contented with conjecturing; rather, there is no goal in this game. Just as when one says “You can't count through the whole {{MS reference|Ts-309,90}} series of cardinal numbers”, one doesn't state a fact about human frailty but about a convention which we have made. Our statement is not comparable, though always falsely compared, with such a one as “it is impossible for a human being to swim across the Atlantic”; but it is analogous to a statement like “there is no goal in an endurance race”. And this is one of the things which the person feels dimly who is not satisfied with the explanation that though you can't know … you can conjecture …. | |||
If we are angry with someone for going out on a cold day with a cold in his head, we sometimes say: “I won't feel your cold”. And this can mean: “I don't suffer when you catch a cold”. This is a proposition taught by experience. For we could imagine a, so to speak, wireless connection between the two bodies which made one person feel pain in his head when the other had exposed his to the cold air. One might in this case argue that the pains are mine because they are felt in my head; but suppose I and someone else had a part of our bodies in common, say a hand. Imagine the nerves and tendons of my arm and A's connected to this hand by an operation. Now imagine the hand stung by a wasp. Both of us cry, contort our faces, give the same description of the pain, etc. Now are we to say we have the same pain or different ones? If in such a case you say: “We feel pain in the same place, in the same body, our descriptions tally, but still my pain can't be his”, I suppose as a reason you will be inclined to say: {{MS reference|Ts-309,91}} “because my pain is my pain and his pain is his pain”. And here you are making a grammatical statement about the use of such a phrase as “the same pain”. You say that you don't wish to apply the phrase, “he has got my pain” or “we both have the same pain”, and instead you will perhaps apply such a phrase as “his pain is exactly like mine”. (It would be no argument to say that the two couldn't have the same pain because one might anaesthetize or kill one of them while the other still felt pain.) Of course, if we exclude the phrase “I have his toothache” from our language, we thereby also exclude “I have (or feel) my toothache”. Another form of our metaphysical statement is this: “A man's sense data are private to himself”. And this way of expressing it is even more misleading because it looks still more like an experiential proposition; the philosopher who says this may well think that he is expressing a kind of scientific truth. | |||
If we are angry with someone for going out on a cold day with a cold in his head, we sometimes say: “I won't feel your cold”. And this can mean: “I don't suffer when you catch a cold”. This is a proposition taught by experience. For we could imagine a, so to speak, wireless connection between the two bodies which made one person feel pain in his head when the other had exposed his to the cold air. One might in this case argue that the pains are mine because they are felt in my head; but suppose I and someone else had a part of our bodies in common, say a hand. Imagine the nerves and tendons of my arm and A's connected to this hand by an operation. Now imagine the hand stung by a wasp. Both of us cry, contort our faces, give the same description of the pain, etc. Now are we to say we have the same pain or different ones? If in such a case you say: “We feel pain in the same place, in the same body, our descriptions tally, but still my pain can't be his”, I suppose as a reason you will be inclined to say: | |||
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“because my pain is my pain and his pain is his pain”. And here you are making a grammatical statement about the use of such a phrase as “the same pain”. You say that you don't wish to apply the phrase, “he has got my pain” or “we both have the same pain”, and instead you will perhaps apply such a phrase as “his pain is exactly like mine”. (It would be no argument to say that the two couldn't have the same pain because one might anaesthetize or kill one of them while the other still felt pain.) Of course, if we exclude the phrase “I have his toothache” from our language, we thereby also exclude “I have (or feel) my toothache”. Another form of our metaphysical statement is this: “A man's sense data are private to himself”. And this way of expressing it is even more misleading because it looks still more like an experiential proposition; the philosopher who says this may well think that he is expressing a kind of scientific truth. | |||
We use the phrase “two books have the same colour”, but we could perfectly well say: “They can't have the same colour, because, after all, this book has its own colour, and the other book has its own colour too”. This also would be stating a grammatical rule, ‒ ‒ ‒ a rule not in accordance with our ordinary usage. The reason why one should think of these two different usages at all is this: We compare the case of sense data with that of physical bodies in which case we make a distinction between: “this is the same chair that I saw an hour ago” and “this is not the same chair, but one exactly {{MS reference|Ts-309,92}} like the other”. Here it makes sense to say, and it is an experiential proposition: “A and B couldn't have seen the same chair, for A was in London and B in Cambridge; they saw two chairs exactly alike”. (Here it will be useful if you consider the different criteria for what we call the “identity of these objects”. How do we apply the statements: “This is the same day … ”, “This is the same word … ”; “This is the same occasion … ”, etc.?) | |||
What we did in these discussions was what we always do when we meet the word “can” in a metaphysical proposition. We show that this proposition hides a grammatical rule. That is to say, we destroy the outward similarity between a metaphysical proposition and an experiential one, and we try to find the form of expression which fulfills a certain craving of the metaphysician which our ordinary language does not fulfill and which, as long as it isn't fulfilled, produces the metaphysical puzzlement. Again, when in a metaphysical sense I say “I must always know when I have pain”, this simply makes the word “know” redundant; and instead of “I know that I have pain”, I can simply say “I have pain”. The matter is different of course if we give the phrase “unconscious pain” sense by fixing experiential criteria for the case in which a man has pain and doesn't know it, and if then we say (rightly or wrongly), that as a matter of fact nobody has ever had pains which he didn't know of. | What we did in these discussions was what we always do when we meet the word “can” in a metaphysical proposition. We show that this proposition hides a grammatical rule. That is to say, we destroy the outward similarity between a metaphysical proposition and an experiential one, and we try to find the form of expression which fulfills a certain craving of the metaphysician which our ordinary language does not fulfill and which, as long as it isn't fulfilled, produces the metaphysical puzzlement. Again, when in a metaphysical sense I say “I must always know when I have pain”, this simply makes the word “know” redundant; and instead of “I know that I have pain”, I can simply say “I have pain”. The matter is different of course if we give the phrase “unconscious pain” sense by fixing experiential criteria for the case in which a man has pain and doesn't know it, and if then we say (rightly or wrongly), that as a matter of fact nobody has ever had pains which he didn't know of. | ||
When we say “I can't feel his pain”, the idea of an {{MS reference|Ts-309,93}} insurmountable barrier suggests itself to us. Let us think straight away of a similar case: “The colours green and blue can't be in the same place simultaneously”. Here the picture of physical impossibility which suggests itself is, perhaps, not that of a barrier; rather we feel that the two colours are in each other's way. What is the origin of this idea? ‒ ‒ ‒ We say three people can't sit side by side on this bench; they have no room. Now the case of the colours is not analogous to this; but it is somewhat analogous to saying: “3 × 18 inches won't go into 3 feet”. This is a grammatical rule and states a logical impossibility. The proposition “three men can't sit side by side on a bench a yard long” states a physical impossibility; and this example shows clearly why the two impossibilities are confused. (Compare the proposition, “He is six inches taller than I” with “6 feet are 6 inches longer than 5 foot 6”. These propositions are of utterly different kinds, but look exactly alike.) The reason why in these cases the idea of physical impossibility suggests itself to us is that on the one hand we decide against using a particular form of expression, on the other hand we are strongly tempted to use it, as, firstly, it sounds English, or German, etc. all right, and, secondly, there are closely similar forms of expression used in other departments of our language. We have decided against using the phrase, “They are in the same place, etc.”; on the other hand this phrase strongly recommends itself to us through the analogy with {{MS reference|Ts-309,94}} other cases, so that, in a sense, we have to turn out this form of expression by force. And this is why we seem to ourselves to be rejecting a universally false proposition. We make a picture like that of the two colours being in each other's way, or that of a barrier which doesn't allow one person to come closer to another's experience than observing his behaviour; but on looking closer we find that we can't apply the picture which we have made. | |||
Our wavering between logical and physical impossibility makes us make such statements as this: “If what I feel is always my pain only, what can the supposition mean that someone else has pain?” The thing to do in such cases is always to look how the words in question are actually used in our language. We are in all such cases thinking of a use different from that which our ordinary language makes of the words. Of a use, on the other hand, which just then for some reason strongly recommends itself to us. When something seems queer about the grammar of our words, it is because we are alternately tempted to use a word in several different ways. And it is particularly difficult to discover that an assertion which the metaphysician makes expresses discontentment with our grammar when the words of this assertion can also be used to state a fact of experience. Thus when he says “only my pain is real pain”, this sentence might mean that the other people are only pretending. And when he says “this tree doesn't exist when nobody sees it”, this might mean: “this {{MS reference|Ts-309,95}} tree vanishes when we turn our backs to it”. The man who says “only my pain is real”, doesn't mean to say that he has found out by the common criteria ‒ ‒ ‒ the criteria, i.e., which give our words their common meanings ‒ ‒ ‒ that the others who said they had pains were cheating. But what he rebels against is the use of this expression in connection with these criteria. That is, he objects to using this word in the particular way in which it is commonly used. On the other hand, he is not aware that he is objecting to a convention. He sees a way of dividing the country different from the one used on the ordinary map. He feels tempted, say, to use the name “Devonshire” not for the county with its conventional boundary, but for a region differently bounded. He could express this by saying: “Isn't it absurd to make this a county, to draw the boundaries here?” But what he says is: “The real Devonshire is this”. We could answer: “What you want is only a new notation, and by a new notation no facts of geography are changed”. It is true, however, that we may be irresistibly attracted or repelled by a notation. (We easily forget how much a notation, a form of expression, may mean to us, and that changing it isn't always as easy as it often is in mathematics or in the sciences. A change of clothes or of names may mean very little and it may mean a great deal.) | |||
I shall try to elucidate the problem discussed by realists, idealists, and solipsists by showing you a problem closely related to it. It is this: “Can we have unconscious thoughts, {{MS reference|Ts-309,96}} unconscious feelings, etc.?” The idea of there being unconscious thoughts has revolted many people. Others again have said that these were wrong in supposing that there could only be conscious thoughts, and that psychoanalysis had discovered unconscious ones. The objectors to unconscious thought did not see that they were not objecting to the newly discovered psychological reactions, but to the way in which they were described. The psychoanalysts on the other hand were misled by their own way of expression into thinking that they had done more than discover new psychological reactions; that they had, in a sense, discovered conscious thoughts which were unconscious. The first could have stated their objection by saying, “We don't wish to use the phrase ‘unconscious thoughts’; we wish to reserve the word ‘thought’ for what you call ‘conscious thoughts’”. They state their case wrongly when they say: “There can only be conscious thoughts and no unconscious ones”. For if they don't wish to talk of “unconscious thought” they should not use the phrase “conscious thought”, either. | |||
But is it not right to say that in any case the person who talks both of conscious and unconscious thoughts thereby uses the word “thoughts” in two different ways? Do we use a hammer in two different ways when we hit a nail with it and, on the other hand, drive a peg into a hole? And do we use it in two different ways or in the same way when we drive this peg into this hole and, on the other hand, another peg into {{MS reference|Ts-309,97}} another hole? Or should we only call it different uses when in one case we drive something into something and in the other, say, we smash something? Or is this all using the hammer in one way and is it to be called a different way only when we use the hammer as a paper weight? ‒ ‒ ‒ In which cases are we to say that a word is used in two different ways and in which that it is used in one way? To say that a word is used in two (or more) different ways does in itself not yet give us any idea about its use. It only specifies a way of looking at this usage by providing a schema for its description with two (or more) subdivisions. It is all right to say: “I do two things with this hammer: I drive a nail into this board and one into that board”. But I could also have said: “I am doing only one thing with this hammer; I am driving a nail into this board and one into that board”. There can be two kinds of discussions as to “whether a word is used in one way or in two ways”: (a) Two people may discuss whether the English word “cleave” is only used for chopping up something or also for joining things together. This is a discussion about the acts of a certain actual usage. (b) They may discuss whether the word “altus”, standing for “deep” and “high” is thereby used in two different ways. This question is analogous to the question whether the word “thought” is used in two ways or in one when we talk of conscious and unconscious thought. The man who says “surely, these are two different usages” has already decided to use a two-way {{MS reference|Ts-309,98}} schema, and what he said expressed this decision. | |||
Now when the solipsist says that only his own experiences are real, it is no use answering him: “Why do you tell us this if you don't believe that we really hear it?” Or anyhow, if we give him this answer, we mustn't believe that we have answered his difficulty. There is no common sense answer to a philosophical problem. One can only defend common sense against the attacks of philosophers by solving their puzzles, i.e., by curing them of the temptation to attack common sense; not by restating the views of common sense. A philosopher is not a man out of his senses, a man who doesn't see what everybody sees; nor on the other hand is his disagreement with common sense that of the scientist disagreeing with the coarse views of the man in the street. That is, his disagreement is not founded on a more subtle knowledge of fact. We therefore have to look round for the source of his puzzlement. And we find that there is puzzlement and mental discomfort, not only when our curiosity about certain facts is not satisfied or when we can't find a law of nature fitting in with all our experience, but also when a notation dissatisfies us, ‒ ‒ ‒ perhaps because of various associations which it calls up. Our ordinary language, which of all possible notations is the one which pervades all our life, holds our mind rigidly in one position, as it were, and in this position sometimes it feels cramped having a desire for other positions as well. Thus we sometimes wish for a notation which stresses a difference {{MS reference|Ts-309,99}} | |||
Now when the solipsist says that only his own experiences are real, it is no use answering him: “Why do you tell us this if you don't believe that we really hear it?” Or anyhow, if we give him this answer, we mustn't believe that we have answered his difficulty. There is no common sense answer to a philosophical problem. One can only defend common sense against the attacks of philosophers by solving their puzzles, i.e., by curing them of the temptation to attack common sense; not by restating the views of common sense. A philosopher is not a man out of his senses, a man who doesn't see what everybody sees; nor on the other hand is his disagreement with common sense that of the scientist disagreeing with the coarse views of the man in the street. That is, his disagreement is not founded on a more subtle knowledge of fact. We therefore have to look round for the source of his puzzlement. And we find that there is puzzlement and mental discomfort, not only when our curiosity about certain facts is not satisfied or when we can't find a law of nature fitting in with all our experience, but also when a notation dissatisfies us, ‒ ‒ ‒ perhaps because of various associations which it calls up. Our ordinary language, which of all possible notations is the one which pervades all our life, holds our mind rigidly in one position, as it were, and in this position sometimes it feels cramped having a desire for other positions as well. Thus we sometimes wish for a notation which stresses a difference | |||
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more strongly, makes it more obvious, than ordinary language does, or one which in a particular case uses more closely similar forms of expression than our ordinary language. Our mental cramp is loosened when we are shown the notations which fulfill these needs. These needs can be of the greatest variety. | more strongly, makes it more obvious, than ordinary language does, or one which in a particular case uses more closely similar forms of expression than our ordinary language. Our mental cramp is loosened when we are shown the notations which fulfill these needs. These needs can be of the greatest variety. | ||
Now the man whom we call a solipsist and who says that only his own experiences are real, on the one hand does not thereby disagree with us about any practical question of fact, he does not say that we are simulating when we complain of pains, he pities us as much as anyone else, and at the same time he wishes to restrict the use of the epithet “real” to what we should call his experiences; and perhaps he doesn't want to call our experiences “experiences” at all (again without disagreeing with us about any question of fact). For he would say that it was inconceivable that experiences other than his own were real. He ought therefore to use a notation in which such a phrase as “A has real toothache” (where A is not he) is meaningless, a notation whose rules exclude this phrase as the rules of chess exclude a pawn's making a knight's move. The solipsist's suggestion comes to using such a phrase as “there is real toothache” instead of “Smith (the solipsist) has toothache”. And why shouldn't we grant him this notation. I needn't say that in order to avoid confusion he had in his case better not use the word “real” as opposed to “simulated” at all; which just means that we shall have to provide for the {{MS reference|Ts-309,100}} | |||
Now the man whom we call a solipsist and who says that only his own experiences are real, on the one hand does not thereby disagree with us about any practical question of fact, he does not say that we are simulating when we complain of pains, he pities us as much as anyone else, and at the same time he wishes to restrict the use of the epithet “real” to what we should call his experiences; and perhaps he doesn't want to call our experiences “experiences” at all (again without disagreeing with us about any question of fact). For he would say that it was inconceivable that experiences other than his own were real. He ought therefore to use a notation in which such a phrase as “A has real toothache” (where A is not he) is meaningless, a notation whose rules exclude this phrase as the rules of chess exclude a pawn's making a knight's move. The solipsist's suggestion comes to using such a phrase as “there is real toothache” instead of “Smith (the solipsist) has toothache”. And why shouldn't we grant him this notation. I needn't say that in order to avoid confusion he had in his case better not use the word “real” as opposed to “simulated” at all; which just means that we shall have to provide for the | |||
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distinction “real”, “simulated” in some other way. The solipsist who says “only I feel real pain”, “only I really see (or hear)” is not stating an opinion; and that's why he is so sure of what he says. He is irresistibly tempted to use a certain form of expression; but we must yet find why he is. | distinction “real”, “simulated” in some other way. The solipsist who says “only I feel real pain”, “only I really see (or hear)” is not stating an opinion; and that's why he is so sure of what he says. He is irresistibly tempted to use a certain form of expression; but we must yet find why he is. | ||
The phrase “only I really see” is closely connected with the idea expressed in the assertion “we never know what the other man really sees when he looks at a thing” or this, “we can never know whether he calls the same thing ‘blue’ which we call ‘blue’”. In fact we might argue: “I can never know what he sees or that he sees at all, for all I have is signs of various sorts which he gives me; therefore it is an unnecessary hypothesis altogether that he sees; what seeing is I only know from seeing myself; I have only learnt the word to mean what I do”. Of course that is just not true, for I have definitely learned a different and much more complicated use of the word “to see” than I here have professed. Let us make clear the tendency which guided me when I did so, by an example from a slightly different sphere: Consider this argument: “How can we wish that this paper were red if it isn't red? Doesn't this mean that I wish that which doesn't exist at all? Therefore my wish can only contain something similar to the paper's being red. Oughtn't we therefore to use a different word instead of ‘red’ when we talk of wishing that something were red? The imagery of the wish surely shows us something less definite, something hazier, than the reality {{MS reference|Ts-309,101}} of the paper being red. | |||
The phrase “only I really see” is closely connected with the idea expressed in the assertion “we never know what the other man really sees when he looks at a thing” or this, “we can never know whether he calls the same thing ‘blue’ which we call ‘blue’”. In fact we might argue: “I can never know what he sees or that he sees at all, for all I have is signs of various sorts which he gives me; therefore it is an unnecessary hypothesis altogether that he sees; what seeing is I only know from seeing myself; I have only learnt the word to mean what I do”. Of course that is just not true, for I have definitely learned a different and much more complicated use of the word “to see” than I here have professed. Let us make clear the tendency which guided me when I did so, by an example from a slightly different sphere: Consider this argument: “How can we wish that this paper were red if it isn't red? Doesn't this mean that I wish that which doesn't exist at all? Therefore my wish can only contain something similar to the paper's being red. Oughtn't we therefore to use a different word instead of ‘red’ when we talk of wishing that something were red? The imagery of the wish surely shows us something less definite, something hazier, than the reality | |||
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of the paper being red. | |||
I should therefore say, instead of ‘I wish this paper were red’, something like ‘I wish a pale red for this paper’”. But if in the usual way of speaking he had said, “I wish a pale red for this paper”, we should, in order to fulfill his wish, have painted it a pale red ‒ ‒ ‒ and this wasn't what he wished. On the other hand there is no objection to adopting the form of expression which he suggests as long as we know that he uses the phrase, “I wish a pale x for this paper”, always to mean what ordinarily we express by “I wish this paper to have the colour x”. What he said really recommended his notation, in the sense in which a notation can be recommended. But he did not tell us a new truth and did not show us that what we said before was false. (All this connects our present problem up with the problem of negation. I will only give you a hint, by saying that a notation would be possible in which, to put it roughly, a quality had always two names, one for the case when something is said to have it, the other for the case when something is said not to have it. The negation of “This paper is red” could then be, say, “This paper is not rode”. Such a notation would actually fulfill some of the wishes which are denied us by our ordinary language and which sometimes produce a cramp of philosophical puzzlement about the idea of negation.) | I should therefore say, instead of ‘I wish this paper were red’, something like ‘I wish a pale red for this paper’”. But if in the usual way of speaking he had said, “I wish a pale red for this paper”, we should, in order to fulfill his wish, have painted it a pale red ‒ ‒ ‒ and this wasn't what he wished. On the other hand there is no objection to adopting the form of expression which he suggests as long as we know that he uses the phrase, “I wish a pale x for this paper”, always to mean what ordinarily we express by “I wish this paper to have the colour x”. What he said really recommended his notation, in the sense in which a notation can be recommended. But he did not tell us a new truth and did not show us that what we said before was false. (All this connects our present problem up with the problem of negation. I will only give you a hint, by saying that a notation would be possible in which, to put it roughly, a quality had always two names, one for the case when something is said to have it, the other for the case when something is said not to have it. The negation of “This paper is red” could then be, say, “This paper is not rode”. Such a notation would actually fulfill some of the wishes which are denied us by our ordinary language and which sometimes produce a cramp of philosophical puzzlement about the idea of negation.) | ||
The difficulty which we express by saying “We can't know what he sees when he (truthfully) says that he sees a blue patch” arises from the idea that “knowing what he sees” means: {{MS reference|Ts-309,102}} “seeing that which he also sees”; not however in the sense in which we do so when we both have the same object before our eyes: but in the sense in which the object seen would be an object, say, in his head, or in him. The idea is that the same object may be before his eyes and mine, but that I can't stick my head into his (or my mind into his, which comes to the same) so that the real and immediate object of his vision becomes the real and immediate object of my vision, too. By “I don't know what he sees” we really mean “I don't know what he looks at”, where “what he looks at” is hidden and he can't show it to me; it is before his mind's eye. Therefore, in order to get rid of this puzzle, examine the grammatical difference between the statements “I don't know what he sees” and “I don't know what he looks at”, as they are actually used in our language. | |||
The difficulty which we express by saying “We can't know what he sees when he (truthfully) says that he sees a blue patch” arises from the idea that “knowing what he sees” means: | |||
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“seeing that which he also sees”; not however in the sense in which we do so when we both have the same object before our eyes: but in the sense in which the object seen would be an object, say, in his head, or in him. The idea is that the same object may be before his eyes and mine, but that I can't stick my head into his (or my mind into his, which comes to the same) so that the real and immediate object of his vision becomes the real and immediate object of my vision, too. By “I don't know what he sees” we really mean “I don't know what he looks at”, where “what he looks at” is hidden and he can't show it to me; it is before his mind's eye. Therefore, in order to get rid of this puzzle, examine the grammatical difference between the statements “I don't know what he sees” and “I don't know what he looks at”, as they are actually used in our language. | |||
Sometimes the most satisfying expression of our solipsism seems to be this: “When anything is seen (really seen), it is always I who see it”. | Sometimes the most satisfying expression of our solipsism seems to be this: “When anything is seen (really seen), it is always I who see it”. | ||
What should strike us about this expression is the phrase “always I”. Always who? ‒ ‒ ‒ For, queer enough, I don't mean: “always L.W.” This leads us to considering the criteria for the identity of a person. Under what circumstances do we say: “This is the same person whom I saw an hour ago”? Our actual use of the phrase “the same person” and of the name of a person is based on the fact that many characteristics which we use as the criteria for identity coincide in the vast {{MS reference|Ts-309,103}} majority of cases. I am as a rule recognized by the appearance of my body. My body changes its appearance only gradually and comparatively little, and likewise my voice, characteristic habits, etc. only change slowly and within a narrow range. We are inclined to use personal names in the way we do, only as a consequence of these facts. This can best be seen by imagining unreal cases which show us what different “geometries” we would be inclined to use if facts were different. Imagine, e.g., that all human bodies which exist looked alike, that on the other hand, different sets of characteristics seemed, as it were, to change their habitation among these bodies. Such a set of characteristics might be, say, mildness, together with a high pitched voice, and slow movements, or a choleric temperament, a deep voice, and jerky movements, and such like. Under such circumstances, although it would be possible to give the bodies names, we should perhaps be as little inclined to do so as we are to give names to the chairs of our dining room set. On the other hand, it might be useful to give names to the sets of characteristics, and the use of these names would now roughly correspond to the personal names in our present language. | |||
Or imagine that it was usual for a man to have two characters, in this way: His shape, size, and characteristics of behaviour sometimes changed unaccountably. It is the usual thing that a man has two such states, and he lapses suddenly from one into the other. It is very likely that in such a {{MS reference|Ts-309,104}} case we should be inclined to christen every man with two names, and perhaps to talk of the pair of persons in his body. Now were Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde two persons or were they the same person who merely changed? We can say whichever we like. We are not forced to talk of a double personality. | |||
There are many uses of the word “personality” which we may feel inclined to adopt, all more or less akin. The same applies when we define the identity of a person by means of his memories. Imagine a man whose memories on the even days of his life comprise the events of all these days, skipping entirely what happened on the odd days. On the other hand, he remembers on an odd day what happened on previous odd days, but his memory would then skip the even days without a feeling of discontinuity. If we like we can also assume that he has alternating appearances and characteristics on odd and even days. Are we bound to say that here two persons are inhabiting the same body? That is, is it right to say that there are, and wrong to say that there aren't, or vice versa? Neither. For the ordinary use of the word “person” is what one might call a composite use suitable under the ordinary circumstances. If I assume, as I do, that these circumstances are changed, the application of the term “person” or “personality” has thereby changed, and if I wish to preserve this term and give it a use analogous to its former use, I am at liberty to choose between many uses, that is, between many different kinds of analogy. One might say in such a case {{MS reference|Ts-309,105}} that the term “personality” hasn't got one legitimate heir only. (This kind of consideration is of importance in the philosophy of mathematics. Consider the use of the words “proof”, “formula”, and others. Consider the question: “Why should what we do here be called ‘philosophy’? Why should it be regarded as the only legitimate heir of the different activities which had this name in former times?”) | |||
There are many uses of the word “personality” which we may feel inclined to adopt, all more or less akin. The same applies when we define the identity of a person by means of his memories. Imagine a man whose memories on the even days of his life comprise the events of all these days, skipping entirely what happened on the odd days. On the other hand, he remembers on an odd day what happened on previous odd days, but his memory would then skip the even days without a feeling of discontinuity. If we like we can also assume that he has alternating appearances and characteristics on odd and even days. Are we bound to say that here two persons are inhabiting the same body? That is, is it right to say that there are, and wrong to say that there aren't, or vice versa? Neither. For the ordinary use of the word “person” is what one might call a composite use suitable under the ordinary circumstances. If I assume, as I do, that these circumstances are changed, the application of the term “person” or “personality” has thereby changed, and if I wish to preserve this term and give it a use analogous to its former use, I am at liberty to choose between many uses, that is, between many different kinds of analogy. One might say in such a case | |||
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that the term “personality” hasn't got one legitimate heir only. (This kind of consideration is of importance in the philosophy of mathematics. Consider the use of the words “proof”, “formula”, and others. Consider the question: “Why should what we do here be called ‘philosophy’? Why should it be regarded as the only legitimate heir of the different activities which had this name in former times?”) | |||
Now let us ask ourselves what sort of identity of personality it is we are referring to when we say “when anything is seen, it is always I who see”. What is it I want all these cases of seeing to have in common? As an answer I have to confess to myself that it is not my bodily appearance. I don't always see part of my body when I see. And it isn't essential that my body, if seen amongst the things I see, should always look the same. In fact I don't mind how much it changes. And in the same way I feel about all the properties of my body, the characteristics of my behaviour, and even about my memories. ‒ ‒ ‒ When I think about it a little longer I see that what I wished to say was: “Always when anything is seen, something is seen”. I.e., that of which I said it continued during all the experiences of seeing was not any particular entity “I”, but the experience of seeing itself. This may become clearer if we imagine the man who makes our solipsistic statement to point to his eyes while he says “I”. (Perhaps because he wishes to be exact and wants to say expressly which eyes belong to the mouth which says “I” and {{MS reference|Ts-309,106}} to the hands pointing to his own body). But what is he pointing to? These particular eyes with the identity of physical objects? (To understand this sentence, you must remember that the grammar of words of which we say that they stand for physical objects is characterized by the way in which we use the phrase “the same so-and-so”, or “the identical so-and-so”, where so-and-so designates the physical object.) We said before that we did not wish to point to a particular physical object at all. The idea that he had made a significant statement arose from a confusion corresponding to the confusion between what we shall call “the geometrical eye” and “the physical eye”. I will indicate the use of these terms: If a man tries to obey the order “Point to your eye”, he may do many different things, and there are many different criteria which he will accept for having pointed to his eye. If these criteria, as they usually do, coincide, I may use them alternately and in different combinations to show me that I have touched my eye. If they don't coincide, I shall have to distinguish between different senses of the phrase “I touch my eye” or “I move my finger towards my eye”. If, e.g., my eyes are shut, I can still have the characteristic kinaesthetic experience in my arm which I should call the kinaesthetic experience of raising my hand to my eye. That I had succeeded in doing so, I shall recognize by the peculiar tactile sensation of touching my eye. But if my eye was behind a glass plate which was fastened in such a way that it prevented {{MS reference|Ts-309,107}} me from exerting a pressure on my eye with my finger, there would still be a criterion of muscular sensation which would make me say that now my finger was in front of my eye. As to visual criteria, there are two I can adopt. There is the ordinary experience of seeing my hand rise and come towards my eye, and this experience of course is different from seeing two things meet, say, two finger tips. On the other hand, I can use a criterion for my finger moving towards my eye, what I see when I look into a mirror and see my finger nearing my eye. If that place on my body which, we say, “sees” is to be determined by moving my finger towards my eye, according to the second criterion, then it is conceivable that I may see with what according to other criteria is the tip of my nose, or places on my forehead; or I might in this way point to a place lying outside my body. If I wish a person to point to his eye (or his eyes) according to the second criterion alone, I shall express my wish by saying: “Point to your geometrical eye (or eyes)”. The grammar of the word “geometrical eye” stands in the same relation to the grammar of the word “physical eye” as the grammar of the expression “the visual sense datum of a tree” to the grammar of the expression “the physical tree”. In either case it confuses everything to say “the one is a different kind of object from the other”; for those who say that a sense datum is a different kind of object from a physical object misunderstand the grammar of the word “kind”, just as those who say that a number is a different kind of {{MS reference|Ts-309,108}} object from a numeral. They think they are making such a statement as “A railway train, a railway station, and a railway car are different kinds of objects”, whereas their statement is analogous to “A railway train, a railway accident, and a railway law are different kinds of objects”. | |||
What tempted me to say “it is always I who see when anything is seen”, I could also have yielded to by saying: “when ever anything is seen, it is this which is seen”, accompanying the word “this” by a gesture embracing my visual field (but not meaning by “this” the particular objects which I happen to see at the moment). One might say, “I am pointing at the visual field as such, not at anything in it”. And this only serves to bring out the senselessness of the former expression. | What tempted me to say “it is always I who see when anything is seen”, I could also have yielded to by saying: “when ever anything is seen, it is this which is seen”, accompanying the word “this” by a gesture embracing my visual field (but not meaning by “this” the particular objects which I happen to see at the moment). One might say, “I am pointing at the visual field as such, not at anything in it”. And this only serves to bring out the senselessness of the former expression. | ||
Let us then discard the “always” in our expression. Then I can still express my solipsism by saying, “Only what I see (or: see now) is really seen”. And here I am tempted to say: “Although by the word “I” I don't mean L.W., it will do if the others understand “I” to mean L.W. if just now I am in fact L.W.”. I could also express my claim by saying: “I am the vessel of life”; but mark, it is essential that everyone to whom I say this should be unable to understand me. It is essential that the other should not be able to understand “what I really mean”, though in practice he might do what I wish by conceding to me an exceptional position in his notation. But I wish it to be logically impossible that he should understand me, that is to say, it should be meaningless, {{MS reference|Ts-309,109}} not false, to say that he understands me. Thus my expression is one of the many which is used on various occasions by philosophers and supposed to convey something to the person who says it, though essentially incapable of conveying anything to anyone else. Now if to convey a meaning means to be accompanied by or to produce certain experiences, our expression may have all sorts of meanings, and I can't say anything about them. But we are, as a matter of fact, misled into thinking that our expression has a meaning in the sense in which a non-metaphysical expression has; for we wrongly compare our case with one in which the other person can't understand what we say because he lacks a certain information. (This remark can only become clear if we understand the connection between grammar and sense and nonsense.) | |||
The meaning of a phrase for us is characterised by the use we make of it. The meaning is not a mental accompaniment to the expression. Therefore the phrase “I think I mean something by it”, or “I'm sure I mean something by it”, which we so often hear in philosophical discussions to justify the use of an expression is for us no justification at all. We ask: “What do you mean?”, i.e., “How do you use this expression?” If someone taught me the word “bench” and said that he sometimes or always put a stroke over it thus: “bench”, and that this meant something to him, I should say: “I don't know what sort of idea you associate with this stroke, but it doesn't interest me unless you show me that there is a use for {{MS reference|Ts-309,110}} the stroke in the kind of calculus in which I wish to use the word “bench”. ‒ ‒ ‒ I want to play chess, and a man gives the white king a paper crown, leaving the use of the piece unaltered, but telling me that the crown has a meaning to him in the game, which he can't express by rules. I say: “as long as it doesn't alter the use of the piece, it hasn't what I call a meaning”. | |||
The meaning of a phrase for us is characterised by the use we make of it. The meaning is not a mental accompaniment to the expression. Therefore the phrase “I think I mean something by it”, or “I'm sure I mean something by it”, which we so often hear in philosophical discussions to justify the use of an expression is for us no justification at all. We ask: “What do you mean?”, i.e., “How do you use this expression?” If someone taught me the word “bench” and said that he sometimes or always put a stroke over it thus: “bench”, and that this meant something to him, I should say: “I don't know what sort of idea you associate with this stroke, but it doesn't interest me unless you show me that there is a use for | |||
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the stroke in the kind of calculus in which I wish to use the word “bench”. ‒ ‒ ‒ I want to play chess, and a man gives the white king a paper crown, leaving the use of the piece unaltered, but telling me that the crown has a meaning to him in the game, which he can't express by rules. I say: “as long as it doesn't alter the use of the piece, it hasn't what I call a meaning”. | |||
One sometimes hears that such a phrase as “This is here”, when while I say it I point to a part of my visual field, has a kind of primitive meaning to me, although it can't impart information to anybody else. | One sometimes hears that such a phrase as “This is here”, when while I say it I point to a part of my visual field, has a kind of primitive meaning to me, although it can't impart information to anybody else. | ||
When I say “Only this is seen”, I forget that a sentence may come over so natural to us without having any use in the calculus of language. Think of the law of identity, “a = a”, and of how we sometimes try hard to get hold of its sense, to visualize it, by looking at an object and repeating to ourselves such a sentence as “This tree is the same thing as this tree”. The gestures and images by which I apparently give this sentence sense are very similar to those which I use in the case of “Only this is really seen”. (To get clear about philosophical problems, it is useful to become conscious of the apparently unimportant details of the particular situation in which we are inclined to make a certain metaphysical assertion. Thus we may be tempted to say “Only this is really seen” when we stare at unchanging surroundings, whereas we may not at all be tempted to say this when we look about us {{MS reference|Ts-309,111}} while walking.) There is, as we have said, no objection to adopting a symbolism in which a certain person always or temporarily holds an exceptional place. And therefore, if I utter the sentence “Only I really see”, it is conceivable that my fellow creatures thereupon will arrange their notation so as to fall in with me by saying “so-and-so is really seen” instead of “L.W. sees so-and-so”, etc., etc. What however, is wrong is to think that I can justify this choice of notation. When I said, from my heart, that only I see, I was also inclined to say that by “I” I didn't really mean L.W., although for the benefit of my fellow men I might say, “It is now L.W. who really sees” though this is not what I really mean. I could almost say that by “I” I mean something which just now inhabits L.W., something which the others can't see. (I meant my mind, but could only point to it via my body.) There is nothing wrong in suggesting that the others should give me an exceptional place in their notation, but the justification which I wish to give for it: that this body is now the seat of that which really lives, ‒ ‒ ‒ is senseless. For admittedly this is not to state anything which in the ordinary sense is a matter of experience. (And don't think that it is an experiential proposition which only I can know because only I am in the position to have the particular experience.) Now the idea that the real I lives in my body is connected with the peculiar grammar of the word “I”, and the misunderstandings {{MS reference|Ts-309,112}} this grammar is liable to give rise to. There are two different cases in the use of the word “I” (or “my”) which I might call “the use as object” and “the use as subject”. Examples of the first kind of use are these: “My arm is broken”, “I have grown six inches”, “I have a bump on my forehead”, “The wind blows my hair about”. Examples of the second kind are: “I see so-and-so”, “I hear so-and-so”, “I try to lift my arm”, “I think it will rain”, “I have toothache”. One can point to the difference between these two categories by saying: The cases of the first category involve the recognition of a particular person, and there is in these cases the possibility of an error, or as I should rather put it: The possibility of an error has been provided for. The possibility of failing to score has been provided for in a pin game. On the other hand, it is not one of the hazards of the game that the balls should fail to come up if I have put a penny in the slot. It is possible that, say in an accident, I should feel a pain in my arm, see a broken arm at my side, and think it is mine, when really it is my neighbour's. And I could, looking into a mirror, mistake a bump on his forehead for one on mine. On the other hand, there is no question of recognizing a person when I say I have toothache. To ask “are you sure that it's you who have pains?” would be nonsensical. Now, when in this case no error is possible, it is because the move which we might be inclined to think of as an error, a “bad move”, is no move of the game at all. (We distinguish in chess between good and bad moves, and we call it a mistake if we expose the {{MS reference|Ts-309,113}} queen to a bishop. But it is no mistake to promote a pawn to a king.) And now this way of stating our idea suggests itself: that it is as impossible that in making the statement “I have toothache” I should have mistaken another person for myself, as it is to moan with pain by mistake, having mistaken someone else for me. To say, “I have pain” is no more a statement about a particular person than moaning is. “But surely the word ‘I’ in the mouth of a man refers to the man who says it; it points to himself; and very often a man who says it actually points to himself with his finger”. But it was quite superfluous to point to himself. He might just as well only have raised his hand. It would be wrong to say that when someone points to the sun with his hand, he is pointing both to the sun and himself because it is he who points; on the other hand, he may by pointing attract attention both to the sun and to himself. | |||
The word “I” does not mean the same as “L.W.” even if I am L.W., nor does it mean the same as the expression “the person who is now speaking”. But that doesn't mean: that “L.W.” and “I” mean different things. All it means is that these words are different instruments in our language. Think of words as instruments characterized by their use, and then think of the use of a hammer, the use of a chisel, the use of a square, of a glue pot, and of the glue. (Also, all that we say here can only be understood if you understand that a great variety of games is played with the sentences of {{MS reference|Ts-309,114}} our language: Giving and obeying orders; asking questions and answering them; describing an event; telling a fictitious story; telling a joke; describing an immediate experience; making conjectures about events in the physical world; making scientific hypotheses and theories; greeting someone, etc. etc. The mouth which says “I” or the hand which is raised to indicate that it is I who wish to speak, or I who have toothache, does not thereby point to anything. If, on the other hand, I wish to indicate the place of my pain, I point. And here again remember the difference between pointing to the painful spot without being led by the eye and on the other hand pointing to a scar on my body after looking for it. (“That's where I was vaccinated.”) ‒ ‒ ‒ The man who cries out with pain, or says that he has pain, doesn't choose the mouth which says it. | |||
The word “I” does not mean the same as “L.W.” even if I am L.W., nor does it mean the same as the expression “the person who is now speaking”. But that doesn't mean: that “L.W.” and “I” mean different things. All it means is that these words are different instruments in our language. Think of words as instruments characterized by their use, and then think of the use of a hammer, the use of a chisel, the use of a square, of a glue pot, and of the glue. (Also, all that we say here can only be understood if you understand that a great variety of games is played with the sentences of | |||
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our language: Giving and obeying orders; asking questions and answering them; describing an event; telling a fictitious story; telling a joke; describing an immediate experience; making conjectures about events in the physical world; making scientific hypotheses and theories; greeting someone, etc. etc. The mouth which says “I” or the hand which is raised to indicate that it is I who wish to speak, or I who have toothache, does not thereby point to anything. If, on the other hand, I wish to indicate the place of my pain, I point. And here again remember the difference between pointing to the painful spot without being led by the eye and on the other hand pointing to a scar on my body after looking for it. (“That's where I was vaccinated.”) ‒ ‒ ‒ The man who cries out with pain, or says that he has pain, doesn't choose the mouth which says it. | |||
All this comes to saying that the person of whom we say “he has pain” is, by the rules of the game, the person who cries, contorts his face, etc. The place of the pain ‒ ‒ ‒ as we have said ‒ ‒ ‒ may be in another person's body. If, in saying “I”, I point to my own body, I model the use of the word “I” on that of the demonstrative “this person” or “he”. (This way of making the two expressions similar is somewhat analogous to that which one sometimes adopts in mathematics, say in the proof that the sum of the three angles of a triangle is 180˚. | All this comes to saying that the person of whom we say “he has pain” is, by the rules of the game, the person who cries, contorts his face, etc. The place of the pain ‒ ‒ ‒ as we have said ‒ ‒ ‒ may be in another person's body. If, in saying “I”, I point to my own body, I model the use of the word “I” on that of the demonstrative “this person” or “he”. (This way of making the two expressions similar is somewhat analogous to that which one sometimes adopts in mathematics, say in the proof that the sum of the three angles of a triangle is 180˚. | ||
We say “α = α'”, “β = β'”, and “γ = γ”. The first two equalities are of an entirely {{MS reference|Ts-309,115}} different kind from the third.) In “I have pain”, “I” is not a demonstrative pronoun. | |||
We say “α = α'”, “β = β'”, and “γ = γ”. The first two equalities are of an entirely | |||
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different kind from the third.) In “I have pain”, “I” is not a demonstrative pronoun. | |||
Compare the two cases: 1. “How do you know that he has pains?” ‒ ‒ ‒ “Because I hear him moan”. 2. “How do you know that you have pains?” ‒ ‒ ‒ “Because I feel them”. But “I feel them” means the same as “I have them”. Therefore this was no explanation at all. That, however, in my answer I am inclined to stress the word “feel” and not the word “I” indicates that I don't wish to pick out one person (from amongst different persons). | Compare the two cases: 1. “How do you know that he has pains?” ‒ ‒ ‒ “Because I hear him moan”. 2. “How do you know that you have pains?” ‒ ‒ ‒ “Because I feel them”. But “I feel them” means the same as “I have them”. Therefore this was no explanation at all. That, however, in my answer I am inclined to stress the word “feel” and not the word “I” indicates that I don't wish to pick out one person (from amongst different persons). | ||
The difference between the propositions “I have pain” and “he has pain” is not that of “L.W. has pain” and “Smith has pain”. Rather, it corresponds to the difference between moaning and saying that someone moans. ‒ ‒ ‒ “But surely the word ‘I’ in ‘I have pains’ serves to distinguish me from other people, because it is by the sign ‘I’ that I distinguish saying that I have pain from saying that one of the others has”. Imagine a language in which, instead of “I found nobody in the room”, one said “I found Mr. Nobody in the room”. Imagine the philosophical problems which would arise out of such a notation. Some philosophers brought up in this language would probably feel that they didn't like the similarity of the expressions “Mr. Nobody” and “Mr. Smith”. When we feel that we wish to abolish the “I” in “I have pain”, one may say that we tend to make the verbal expression of pain similar to the expression by moaning. ‒ ‒ ‒ We are inclined to forget {{MS reference|Ts-309,116}} | |||
that it is the particular use of a word only which gives the word its meaning. Let us think of our old example for the use of words: Someone is sent to the grocer with a slip of paper with the words “five apples” written on it. The use of the word in practice is its meaning. Imagine it were the usual thing that the objects around us carried labels with words on them by means of which our speech referred to the objects. Some of these words would be proper names of the objects, others generic names, (like table, chair, etc.), others again, names of colours, names of shapes, etc. That is to say, a label would only have a meaning to us in so far as we made a particular use of it. Now we could easily imagine ourselves to be impressed by merely seeing a label on a thing, and to forget that what makes these labels important is their use. In this way we sometimes believe that we have named something when we make a gesture of pointing and utter words like “This is … ” (the formula of the ostensive definition). We say we call something “toothache”, and think that the word has received a definite function in the dealings we carry out with language when, under certain circumstances, we have pointed to our cheek and said: “This is toothache”. (Our idea is that when we point and the other “only knows what we point to” he knows the use of the word. And here we have in mind the special case when “what we point to” is, say, a person and “to know that I point to” means to see which of the persons present I point to.) {{MS reference|Ts-309,117}} | |||
that it is the particular use of a word only which gives the word its meaning. Let us think of our old example for the use of words: Someone is sent to the grocer with a slip of paper with the words “five apples” written on it. The use of the word in practice is its meaning. Imagine it were the usual thing that the objects around us carried labels with words on them by means of which our speech referred to the objects. Some of these words would be proper names of the objects, others generic names, (like table, chair, etc.), others again, names of colours, names of shapes, etc. That is to say, a label would only have a meaning to us in so far as we made a particular use of it. Now we could easily imagine ourselves to be impressed by merely seeing a label on a thing, and to forget that what makes these labels important is their use. In this way we sometimes believe that we have named something when we make a gesture of pointing and utter words like “This is … ” (the formula of the ostensive definition). We say we call something “toothache”, and think that the word has received a definite function in the dealings we carry out with language when, under certain circumstances, we have pointed to our cheek and said: “This is toothache”. (Our idea is that when we point and the other “only knows what we point to” he knows the use of the word. And here we have in mind the special case when “what we point to” is, say, a person and “to know that I point to” means to see which of the persons present I point to.) | |||
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We feel then that in the cases in which “I” is used as subject, we don't use it because we recognize a particular person by his bodily characteristics; and this creates the illusion that we use this word to refer to something bodiless, which, however, has its seat in our body. In fact this seems to be the real ego, the one of which it was said, “Cogito, ergo sum”. ‒ ‒ ‒ “Is there then no mind, but only a body?” Answer: The word “mind” has meaning, i.e., it has a use in our language; but saying this doesn't yet say what kind of use we make of it. | We feel then that in the cases in which “I” is used as subject, we don't use it because we recognize a particular person by his bodily characteristics; and this creates the illusion that we use this word to refer to something bodiless, which, however, has its seat in our body. In fact this seems to be the real ego, the one of which it was said, “Cogito, ergo sum”. ‒ ‒ ‒ “Is there then no mind, but only a body?” Answer: The word “mind” has meaning, i.e., it has a use in our language; but saying this doesn't yet say what kind of use we make of it. | ||
In fact one may say that what in these investigations we were concerned with was the grammar of these words which describe what is called “mental activities”; seeing, hearing, feeling, etc. And this comes to the same as saying that we are concerned with the grammar of “phrases describing sense data”. | In fact one may say that what in these investigations we were concerned with was the grammar of these words which describe what is called “mental activities”; seeing, hearing, feeling, etc. And this comes to the same as saying that we are concerned with the grammar of “phrases describing sense data”. | ||
Philosophers say it as a philosophical opinion or conviction that there are sense data. But to say that I believe that there are sense data comes to saying that I believe that an object may appear to be before our eyes even when it isn't. Now when one uses the word “sense datum”, one should be clear about the peculiarity of its grammar. For the idea in introducing this expression was to model expressions referring to “appearance” after expressions referring to “reality”. It was said, e.g., that if two things seem to be equal, there must be two somethings which are equal. Which of course {{MS reference|Ts-309,118}} means nothing else but that we have decided to use such an expression as “the appearances of these two things are equal” synonymous with “these two things seem to be equal”. Queerly enough, the introduction of this new phraseology has deluded people into thinking that they had discovered new entities, new elements of the structure of the world, as though to say “I believe that there are sense data” were similar to saying “I believe that matter consists of electrons”. When we talk of the equality of appearances or sense data, we introduce a new usage of the word “equal”. It is possible that the lengths A and B should appear to us to be equal, that B and C should appear to be equal, but that A and C do not appear to be equal. And in the new notation we shall have to say that though the appearance (sense datum) of A is equal to that of B and the appearance of B equal to that of C, the appearance of A is not equal to the appearance of C; which is all right if you don't mind using “equal” intransitively. | |||
Now the danger we are in when we adopt the sense datum notation is to forget the difference between the grammar of a statement about sense data and the grammar of an outwardly similar statement about physical objects. (From this point one might go on talking about the misunderstandings which find their expression in such sentences as: “We can never see an accurate circle”, “All our sense data are vague”. Also, this leads to the comparison of the grammar of “position”, “motion”, and “size” in Euclidian and in visual space. There {{MS reference|Ts-309,119}} is, e.g., absolute position, absolute motion and size in visual space.) | |||
Now the danger we are in when we adopt the sense datum notation is to forget the difference between the grammar of a statement about sense data and the grammar of an outwardly similar statement about physical objects. (From this point one might go on talking about the misunderstandings which find their expression in such sentences as: “We can never see an accurate circle”, “All our sense data are vague”. Also, this leads to the comparison of the grammar of “position”, “motion”, and “size” in Euclidian and in visual space. There | |||
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is, e.g., absolute position, absolute motion and size in visual space.) | |||
Now we can make use of such an expression as “pointing to the appearance of a body” or “pointing to a visual sense datum”. Roughly speaking, this sort of pointing comes to the same as sighting, say, along the barrel of a gun. Thus we may point and say: “This is the direction in which I see my image in the mirror”. One can also use such an expression as “the appearance, or sense datum, of my finger points to the sense datum of the tree” and similar ones. From these cases of pointing, however, we must distinguish those of pointing in the direction a sound seems to come from, or of pointing to my forehead with closed eyes, etc. | Now we can make use of such an expression as “pointing to the appearance of a body” or “pointing to a visual sense datum”. Roughly speaking, this sort of pointing comes to the same as sighting, say, along the barrel of a gun. Thus we may point and say: “This is the direction in which I see my image in the mirror”. One can also use such an expression as “the appearance, or sense datum, of my finger points to the sense datum of the tree” and similar ones. From these cases of pointing, however, we must distinguish those of pointing in the direction a sound seems to come from, or of pointing to my forehead with closed eyes, etc. | ||
Now when in the solipsistic way I say “This is what's really seen”, I point before me and it is essential that I point visually. If I pointed sideways or behind me ‒ ‒ ‒ as it were, to things which I don't see ‒ ‒ ‒ the pointing would in this case be meaningless to me; it would not be pointing in the sense in which I wish to point. But this means that when I point before me saying “this is what's really seen”, although I make the gesture of pointing, I don't point to one thing as opposed to another. This is as when travelling in a car and feeling in a hurry, I instinctively press against something in front of me as though I could push the car from the inside. | Now when in the solipsistic way I say “This is what's really seen”, I point before me and it is essential that I point visually. If I pointed sideways or behind me ‒ ‒ ‒ as it were, to things which I don't see ‒ ‒ ‒ the pointing would in this case be meaningless to me; it would not be pointing in the sense in which I wish to point. But this means that when I point before me saying “this is what's really seen”, although I make the gesture of pointing, I don't point to one thing as opposed to another. This is as when travelling in a car and feeling in a hurry, I instinctively press against something in front of me as though I could push the car from the inside. | ||
When it makes sense to say “I see this”, or “this is seen”, pointing to what I see, it also makes sense to say “I {{MS reference|Ts-309,120}} see this”, or “this is seen”, pointing to something I don't see. When I made my solipsist statement, I pointed, but I robbed the pointing of its sense by inseparably connecting that which points and that to which it points. I constructed a clock with all its wheels, etc., and in the end fastened the dial to the pointer and made it go round with it. And in this way the solipsist's “Only this is really seen” reminds us of a tautology. | |||
Of course one of the reasons why we are tempted to make our pseudo-statement is its similarity with the statement “I only see this”, or “this is the region which I see”, where I point to certain objects around me, as opposed to others, or in a certain direction in physical space (not in visual space), as opposed to other directions in physical space. And if, pointing in this sense, I say “this is what is really seen”, one may answer me: “This is what you, L.W., see; but there is no objection to adopting a notation in which what we used to call ‘things which L.W. sees’ is called ‘things really seen’”. If, however, I believe that by pointing to that which in my grammar has no neighbour I can convey something to myself (if not to others), I make a mistake similar to that of thinking that the sentence, “I am here” makes sense to me (and, by the way, is always true) under conditions different from those very special conditions under which it does make sense. (E.g., when my voice and the direction from which I speak is recognized by another person.) ‒ ‒ ‒ Again an important case where you can {{MS reference|Ts-309,121}} learn that a word has meaning by the particular use we make of it. We are like people who think that pieces of wood shaped more or less like chess or draught pieces and standing on a chess board make a game, even if nothing has been said as to how they are to be used. | |||
Of course one of the reasons why we are tempted to make our pseudo-statement is its similarity with the statement “I only see this”, or “this is the region which I see”, where I point to certain objects around me, as opposed to others, or in a certain direction in physical space (not in visual space), as opposed to other directions in physical space. And if, pointing in this sense, I say “this is what is really seen”, one may answer me: “This is what you, L.W., see; but there is no objection to adopting a notation in which what we used to call ‘things which L.W. sees’ is called ‘things really seen’”. If, however, I believe that by pointing to that which in my grammar has no neighbour I can convey something to myself (if not to others), I make a mistake similar to that of thinking that the sentence, “I am here” makes sense to me (and, by the way, is always true) under conditions different from those very special conditions under which it does make sense. (E.g., when my voice and the direction from which I speak is recognized by another person.) ‒ ‒ ‒ Again an important case where you can | |||
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learn that a word has meaning by the particular use we make of it. We are like people who think that pieces of wood shaped more or less like chess or draught pieces and standing on a chess board make a game, even if nothing has been said as to how they are to be used. | |||
To say “it approaches me” has sense, even when, physically speaking, nothing approaches my body; and in the same way it makes sense to say, “it is here” or “it has reached me” when nothing has reached my body. And, on the other hand, “I am here” makes sense if my voice is recognised and heard to come from a particular place of “common space”. In the sentence, “it is here” the “here” was a here in visual space. Roughly speaking, it is the geometrical eye. The sentence “I am here”, to make sense, must attract attention to a place in common space. (And there are several ways in which this sentence might be used.) The philosopher who thinks it makes sense to say to himself “I am here”, takes the verbal expression from the sentence in which “here” is a place in common space and thinks of “here” as the here in visual space. He therefore really says something like “Here is here”. | To say “it approaches me” has sense, even when, physically speaking, nothing approaches my body; and in the same way it makes sense to say, “it is here” or “it has reached me” when nothing has reached my body. And, on the other hand, “I am here” makes sense if my voice is recognised and heard to come from a particular place of “common space”. In the sentence, “it is here” the “here” was a here in visual space. Roughly speaking, it is the geometrical eye. The sentence “I am here”, to make sense, must attract attention to a place in common space. (And there are several ways in which this sentence might be used.) The philosopher who thinks it makes sense to say to himself “I am here”, takes the verbal expression from the sentence in which “here” is a place in common space and thinks of “here” as the here in visual space. He therefore really says something like “Here is here”. | ||
I could, however, try to express my solipsism in a different way: I imagine that I and others draw pictures or write descriptions of what each of us sees. These descriptions are put before me. I point to the one which I have made and say: “Only this is (or was) really seen”. That is, I am tempted to say: “Only this description has reality (visual reality) {{MS reference|Ts-309,122}} behind it”. The others I might call ‒ ‒ ‒ “blank descriptions”. I could also express myself by saying: “This description only was derived from reality; only this was compared with reality”. Now it has a clear meaning when we say that this picture or description is a projection, say, of this group of objects ‒ ‒ ‒ the trees I look at ‒ ‒ ‒, or that it has been derived from these objects. But we must look into the grammar of such a phrase as “this description is derived from my sense datum”. What we are talking about is connected with that peculiar temptation to say: “I never know what the other really means by ‘brown’, or what he really sees when he (truthfully) says that he sees a brown object”. ‒ ‒ ‒ We could propose to one who says this to use two different words instead of the one word “brown”; one word “for his particular impression”, the other word with that meaning which other people besides him can understand as well. If he thinks about this proposal he will see that there is something wrong about his conception of the meaning, function, of the word “brown”, and others. He looks for a justification of his description where there is none. (Just as in the case when a man believes that the chain of reasons must be endless. Think of the justification by a general formula for performing mathematical operations; and of the question: Does this formula compel us to make use of it in this particular case as we do?) To say “I derive a description from visual reality” can't mean anything analogous to: “I derive a description from what I see here”. I may, e.g., see a chart in which a coloured {{MS reference|Ts-309,123}} | |||
I could, however, try to express my solipsism in a different way: I imagine that I and others draw pictures or write descriptions of what each of us sees. These descriptions are put before me. I point to the one which I have made and say: “Only this is (or was) really seen”. That is, I am tempted to say: “Only this description has reality (visual reality) | |||
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behind it”. The others I might call ‒ ‒ ‒ “blank descriptions”. I could also express myself by saying: “This description only was derived from reality; only this was compared with reality”. Now it has a clear meaning when we say that this picture or description is a projection, say, of this group of objects ‒ ‒ ‒ the trees I look at ‒ ‒ ‒, or that it has been derived from these objects. But we must look into the grammar of such a phrase as “this description is derived from my sense datum”. What we are talking about is connected with that peculiar temptation to say: “I never know what the other really means by ‘brown’, or what he really sees when he (truthfully) says that he sees a brown object”. ‒ ‒ ‒ We could propose to one who says this to use two different words instead of the one word “brown”; one word “for his particular impression”, the other word with that meaning which other people besides him can understand as well. If he thinks about this proposal he will see that there is something wrong about his conception of the meaning, function, of the word “brown”, and others. He looks for a justification of his description where there is none. (Just as in the case when a man believes that the chain of reasons must be endless. Think of the justification by a general formula for performing mathematical operations; and of the question: Does this formula compel us to make use of it in this particular case as we do?) To say “I derive a description from visual reality” can't mean anything analogous to: “I derive a description from what I see here”. I may, e.g., see a chart in which a coloured | |||
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square is correlated to the word “brown”, and also a patch of the same colour elsewhere; and I may say: “This shows me that I must use ‘brown’ for the description of this patch”. This is how I may derive the word “brown” for the use of my description. But it would be meaningless to say that I derive the word “brown” from the particular colour-impression which I receive. | square is correlated to the word “brown”, and also a patch of the same colour elsewhere; and I may say: “This shows me that I must use ‘brown’ for the description of this patch”. This is how I may derive the word “brown” for the use of my description. But it would be meaningless to say that I derive the word “brown” from the particular colour-impression which I receive. | ||
Let us now ask: “Can a human body have pain?” One is inclined to say: “How can the body have pain? The body in itself is something dead; a body isn't conscious!” And here again it is as though we looked into the nature of pain and saw that it lies in its nature that a material object can't have it. And it is as though we saw that what has pain must be an entity of a different nature from that of a material object; that, in fact, it must be of a mental nature. But to say that the ego is mental is like saying that the number 3 is of a mental or an immaterial nature, when we recognize that the numeral “3” isn't used as a sign for a physical object. | Let us now ask: “Can a human body have pain?” One is inclined to say: “How can the body have pain? The body in itself is something dead; a body isn't conscious!” And here again it is as though we looked into the nature of pain and saw that it lies in its nature that a material object can't have it. And it is as though we saw that what has pain must be an entity of a different nature from that of a material object; that, in fact, it must be of a mental nature. But to say that the ego is mental is like saying that the number 3 is of a mental or an immaterial nature, when we recognize that the numeral “3” isn't used as a sign for a physical object. | ||
On the other hand we can perfectly well adopt the expression “this body feels pain”, and we shall then, just as usual, tell it to go to the doctor, to lie down, and even to remember that when the last time it had pains they were over in a day. “But wouldn't this form of expression at least be an indirect one?” ‒ ‒ ‒ Is it using an indirect expression when we say “Write ‘3’ for ‘x’ in this formula” instead of “Substitute 3 for x”? (Or on the other hand, is the first of these two expressions {{MS reference|Ts-309,124}} | |||
On the other hand we can perfectly well adopt the expression “this body feels pain”, and we shall then, just as usual, tell it to go to the doctor, to lie down, and even to remember that when the last time it had pains they were over in a day. “But wouldn't this form of expression at least be an indirect one?” ‒ ‒ ‒ Is it using an indirect expression when we say “Write ‘3’ for ‘x’ in this formula” instead of “Substitute 3 for x”? (Or on the other hand, is the first of these two expressions | |||
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the only direct one, as some philosophers think?) One expression is no more direct than the other. The meaning of the expression depends entirely on how we go on using it. Let's not imagine the meaning as an occult connection the mind makes between a word and a thing, and that this connection contains the whole usage of a word as the seed might be said to contain the tree. | the only direct one, as some philosophers think?) One expression is no more direct than the other. The meaning of the expression depends entirely on how we go on using it. Let's not imagine the meaning as an occult connection the mind makes between a word and a thing, and that this connection contains the whole usage of a word as the seed might be said to contain the tree. | ||
The kernel of our proposition, that that which has pains or sees or thinks is of a mental nature, is only, that the word “I” in “I have pains” does not denote a particular body, for we can't substitute for it a description of a body.{{top}} | The kernel of our proposition, that that which has pains or sees or thinks is of a mental nature, is only, that the word “I” in “I have pains” does not denote a particular body, for we can't substitute for it a description of a body.{{top}} | ||