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<strong>Wittgenstein</strong> <strong>and</strong> <strong>Cambridge</strong><br />

<strong>Family</strong> <strong>Resemblances</strong><br />

A presentation by Michael Nedo<br />

Clare Hall<br />

Herschel Road<br />

<strong>Cambridge</strong><br />

CB3 9AL


<strong>Wittgenstein</strong> <strong>and</strong> <strong>Cambridge</strong><br />

<strong>Family</strong> <strong>Resemblances</strong><br />

An Exhibition at Clare Hall <strong>Cambridge</strong><br />

31 March to 4 May 2011<br />

by Michael Nedo © 2011<br />

supported by the AUSTRIAN CULTURAL FORUM London<br />

Michael Nedo, <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> Archive <strong>Cambridge</strong><br />

Exhibition <strong>and</strong> Catalogue in Cooperation with<br />

Andrea Baczynski, Photo-Artist, Vienna – <strong>Cambridge</strong><br />

Philip Ball, P<strong>and</strong>IS, <strong>Cambridge</strong> University <strong>and</strong><br />

Bruce Godfrey, <strong>Cambridge</strong> University Computing Service Print Room<br />

The Paolozzi Composites of <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> were donated by the artist<br />

to Michael Nedo, Director of the <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> Archive <strong>Cambridge</strong><br />

Typeset in<br />

Baskerville <strong>and</strong> Gill Sans by Berthold


Ludwig <strong>Wittgenstein</strong><br />

born in Vienna 26 April 1889 died in <strong>Cambridge</strong> 29 April 1951<br />

In the autumn of 1911 <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> came to <strong>Cambridge</strong>, following the advice of Gottlob<br />

Frege, to study philosophy under Bertr<strong>and</strong> Russell. Before that, <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> had<br />

studied aeronautical engineering in Berlin <strong>and</strong> subsequently, on the advice of his father,<br />

in Manchester, where he invented an aeroplane engine for which he received a patent<br />

– an engine still in use today. But his main interests had always been philosophical: he<br />

had intended to study physics – in particular its epistemological aspects – under Ludwig<br />

Boltzmann in Vienna, but Boltzmann committed suicide in 1906, when <strong>Wittgenstein</strong><br />

was leaving school.<br />

In February 1912 <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> became an undergraduate at Trinity College,<br />

later an advanced student. He studied logic <strong>and</strong> the foundations of mathematics under<br />

Bertr<strong>and</strong> Russell <strong>and</strong> psychology under G.E. Moore; he became friends with Russell,<br />

John Maynard Keynes <strong>and</strong> G.H. Hardy <strong>and</strong> with David Pinsent, a mathematics student<br />

in Trinity. It was not long before the student <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> became the teacher of his<br />

teachers <strong>and</strong> they developed great expectations regarding his work. Thus Russell<br />

mentioned in 1912 to <strong>Wittgenstein</strong>’s sister Hermine: “ We expect the next big step<br />

in philosophy to be taken by your brother.” <strong>and</strong> later in Mind: “Getting to know<br />

<strong>Wittgenstein</strong> was one of the most exciting intellectual adventures of my life.”<br />

In collaboration with Moore, <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> reformed the <strong>Cambridge</strong> University<br />

Moral Sciences Club, establishing rules that still apply today.<br />

In October 1913 <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> moved to Norway – to Skjolden, a small village<br />

north-east of Bergen – to concentrate on his work. There, before his 25 th birthday, he<br />

made groundbreaking discoveries in logic, for instance a new symbolism for ‘truthfunctions’,<br />

which explains logical truth as ‘tautologies’.<br />

At the beginning of the Great War <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> joined the Austrian army.<br />

While on leave from the front, in August 1918, he finished his first book, the Logisch-<br />

Philosophische Abh<strong>and</strong>lung, published in Germany in 1921 <strong>and</strong> in London in 1922 in a<br />

bilingual edition under the title of the English translation Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus.<br />

<strong>Wittgenstein</strong> was convinced that with the completion of his book he had exhausted<br />

his means to do philosophy. After the war he found a new vocation: he qualified as a<br />

teacher <strong>and</strong> taught in small villages in Lower Austria. Frank Ramsey, who translated<br />

his book into English visited <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> <strong>and</strong> together with Keynes, tried to persuade<br />

him to return to <strong>Cambridge</strong> <strong>and</strong> to philosophy – but <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> remained in Austria.<br />

From 1926 he was building a house for his sister Margarethe Stoneborough, which he<br />

completed in the autumn of 1928.<br />

On the 18 th of January 1929 <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> was back in <strong>Cambridge</strong>. On 2 nd<br />

February he started work on his first manuscript volume, <strong>and</strong> on 20 th January of the<br />

following year he started teaching. <strong>Wittgenstein</strong>’s election to a research fellowship<br />

of Trinity College was based on a summary of his work (published posthumously as<br />

Philosophical Remarks), evaluated by the Trinity mathematicians Hardy <strong>and</strong> Littlewood,<br />

<strong>and</strong> by Russell, who reported to the College Council: “The theories contained in the<br />

work of <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> are novel, very original <strong>and</strong> indubitably important. Whether they<br />

are true, I do not know. As a logician who likes simplicity, I should wish to think that<br />

they are not […]”<br />

During the summer of 1930 <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> started working on a publication of his<br />

new ideas. He failed with his first attempt, the so-called ‘Big Typescript’, as he found<br />

his thoughts distorted <strong>and</strong> his thinking paralysed by the linear discourse required by a<br />

traditional book. His second attempt was an organic, multidimensional representation<br />

of his work, which he described in August 1938 in a preface to the book:<br />

1<br />

2<br />

3


I begin this publication with the fragment of my last attempt to arrange my<br />

thoughts in a linear form. This fragment has perhaps the advantage of giving<br />

comparatively easily an idea of my method. I intent to follow up this fragment<br />

with a mass of remarks more or less loosely arranged; <strong>and</strong> I shall explain the<br />

connections between these remarks, where the arrangement does not itself make<br />

them apparent, by a system of cross-references thus: each remark should have a<br />

current number <strong>and</strong> besides this the numbers of those remarks which st<strong>and</strong> to it<br />

in important relations.<br />

This book, for which he had a contract with <strong>Cambridge</strong> University Press, would have<br />

been published as a bilingual publication under the title ‘Philosophical Remarks’. It<br />

failed in consequence of the annexation of Austria by Nazi Germany. <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> no<br />

longer had access to the manuscripts he had been writing since 1929, the manuscripts<br />

on which he was working for his book in Vienna.<br />

In February 1939 <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> was elected by <strong>Cambridge</strong> University to the<br />

Chair of Philosophy as successor to G.E. Moore; in April he received British citizenship.<br />

Wishing to contribute to Britain’s war effort, <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> worked as a volunteer<br />

at Guy’s Hospital in London, first as a dispenser <strong>and</strong> laboratory assistant, later as a<br />

technician with a research group studying the phenomenon of ‘wound shock’, where<br />

he developed apparatuses for the continuous measurement of pulse, blood pressure,<br />

breathing frequency <strong>and</strong> volume. At the beginning of 1944 he was called back to<br />

<strong>Cambridge</strong> to continue his research <strong>and</strong> his teaching.<br />

<strong>Wittgenstein</strong>’s last attempt to publish his work, his ‘Philosophical Investigations’,<br />

alongside his earlier book, the Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus, failed, because the<br />

publisher of the Tractatus, Kegan Paul in London, refused a licence to <strong>Cambridge</strong><br />

University Press. <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> withdrew from all further publication attempts <strong>and</strong><br />

instead prepared his literary estate as a form of publication.<br />

At the beginning of the Michaelmas Term 1947, he resigned his chair to<br />

concentrate on his writing; he travelled to Irel<strong>and</strong>, to Austria, to the US, back to<br />

Irel<strong>and</strong> <strong>and</strong> then to Norway. At the end of 1949 his doctor, Edward Bevan, diagnosed<br />

cancer of the prostate. In 1950 he moved back to <strong>Cambridge</strong>, into Dr Bevan’s house,<br />

Storey’s End in Storey’s Way. In 1951 he wrote his will, making Rush Rhees, Elizabeth<br />

Anscombe <strong>and</strong> G.H. von Wright the heirs of his literary estate.<br />

On April 25 th , 1951 he began his last piece of writing. The last entry is from<br />

April 27 th . On April 28 th he lost consciousness, dying on the morning of the 29 th of<br />

April 1951.<br />

<strong>Wittgenstein</strong>’s Philosophy<br />

The reception of <strong>Wittgenstein</strong>’s Philosophy was already controversial while he was<br />

teaching at <strong>Cambridge</strong> University from 1930 to 1947. The establishment in the<br />

departments of philosophy in universities throughout Engl<strong>and</strong> was on the whole<br />

hostile towards <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> – certainly those in Oxford <strong>and</strong> <strong>Cambridge</strong> where he<br />

was described as a charlatan. At the same time there was, in particular in <strong>Cambridge</strong><br />

<strong>and</strong> Oxford, no essay, talk or dissertation in philosophy, which was not influenced by<br />

<strong>Wittgenstein</strong>.<br />

After <strong>Wittgenstein</strong>’s death, self declared ‘apostles’ were teaching the ‘true<br />

gospel’ of <strong>Wittgenstein</strong>. To counter those problematic teachings, <strong>Wittgenstein</strong>’s literary<br />

heirs, Rush Rhees, Elizabeth Anscombe <strong>and</strong> G.H. von Wright, began publishing his<br />

manuscripts. Not an easy task if one keeps in mind <strong>Wittgenstein</strong>’s own difficulties in<br />

publishing his writings <strong>and</strong> not surprisingly, the results are problematic. They represent<br />

in the first instance the underst<strong>and</strong>ing of <strong>Wittgenstein</strong>’s work by his pupils <strong>and</strong> heirs<br />

4


<strong>and</strong> as practically all of <strong>Wittgenstein</strong>’s manuscripts are fragments (with the exception<br />

of Part I of the posthumously published Philosophical Investigations), many of these<br />

publications are selections from manuscripts, often under misleading titles. The editions<br />

by <strong>Wittgenstein</strong>’s heirs represent about 20% of Nachlaß, a literary estate from which,<br />

with the exception of the corpus of the so-called ‘Big Typescript’, <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> had<br />

removed everything that he did not regard essential to his work.<br />

Judging from his manuscripts <strong>and</strong> from his teachings <strong>Wittgenstein</strong>’s plan<br />

was to write a trilogy. Part one, the Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus together with the<br />

‘Philosophical Investigations’ under the Title ‘Philosophical Investigations juxtaposed<br />

with Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus’ presents his philosophical method. Part two would<br />

have had the title ‘Remarks on the Philosophy of Psychology’; this part would have<br />

incorporated what is now published as ‘Part II’ of the Philosophical Investigations. Part<br />

three <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> would have called ‘Remarks on the Foundations of Mathematics’ as<br />

he argues at the end of the posthumously published Investigations:<br />

An investigation is possible in connexion with mathematics which is entirely<br />

analogous to our investigation of psychology. It is just as little a mathematical<br />

investigation as the other is a psychological one. It will not contain calculations,<br />

so it is not for example logistic. It might deserve the name of an investigation of<br />

the ‘foundations of mathematics’.<br />

In an entry in the Chambers Encyclopaedia from 1950, <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> says about his work:<br />

His researches since 1929 (unpublished) bear chiefly on the philosophy of<br />

psychology <strong>and</strong> mathematics.<br />

<strong>Wittgenstein</strong>’s work on the foundations of mathematics <strong>and</strong> the foundations of science<br />

in general has, until today, hardly been studied. This is in part the result of a rather<br />

problematic publication of this material by his heirs: The posthumous publication,<br />

Remarks on the Foundations of Mathematics is, according to its preface, a selection made by<br />

the editors from a large number of manuscripts which span a period of ostensibly seven,<br />

but actually closer to 15 years. No wonder it is described in the secondary literature<br />

as ‘disorganised, lacking structure’ <strong>and</strong> ‘failing to work out what looks like a very<br />

promising approach’.<br />

In the essay <strong>and</strong> the talk at Clare Hall on 13 April, ‘<strong>Wittgenstein</strong>’s Philosophy<br />

or a Reorientation of Science’ I attempt to show in his words the importance of his<br />

philosophy to the foundations of mathematics <strong>and</strong> of sciences. It will, I hope, give a<br />

sense of the importance of <strong>Wittgenstein</strong>’s philosophy to the underst<strong>and</strong>ing <strong>and</strong> possibly<br />

to resolution of problems we are having today with <strong>and</strong> within our world.<br />

1 Hermine <strong>Wittgenstein</strong>, ‘Familienerinnerungen’ p. 108<br />

2 Russell, Mind, 60, 1951<br />

3 <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> in <strong>Cambridge</strong>, Oxford 2008, Letter 129<br />

4 MS 225, p. II<br />

5 Philosophical Investigations, Part II, xiv, Oxford 1976, p. 232<br />

6 Chambers Encylopedia, new edn, vol 14, London 1950<br />

7 Crispin Wright <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> on the Foundations of Mathematics, London 1980<br />

8 Virginia Klenk <strong>Wittgenstein</strong>’s Philosophy of Mathematics, Den Haag 1976<br />

5<br />

6<br />

7, 8


Russell to Ottoline Morell,<br />

18 October 1911<br />

He turned out to be a man who had learned engineering at Charlottenburg, but during his course<br />

had acquired, by himself, a passion for the philosophy of math’s, <strong>and</strong> has now come to <strong>Cambridge</strong><br />

on purpose to hear me.<br />

19 October 1911<br />

My German friend threatens to be an infliction, he came back with me after my lecture <strong>and</strong> argued<br />

till dinner-time – obstinate <strong>and</strong> perverse, but I think not stupid.<br />

1 November 1911<br />

My German engineer very argumentative <strong>and</strong> tiresome.<br />

2 November 1911<br />

My German engineer, I think is a fool. He thinks nothing empirical is knowable – I asked him to<br />

admit that there was not a rhinoceros in the room, but he wouldn’t.<br />

13 November 1911<br />

[M]y German ex-engineer, as usual, maintained his thesis that there is nothing in the world except<br />

asserted propositions, but at last I told him it was too large a theme […]<br />

16 November 1911<br />

My ferocious German came <strong>and</strong> argued at me after my lecture, […] He is armour-plated against all<br />

assaults of reasoning – it is really rather a waste of time talking with him.<br />

27 November 1911<br />

My German is hesitating between philosophy <strong>and</strong> aviation; he asked me today whether I thought he<br />

was utterly hopeless at philosophy, <strong>and</strong> I told him I didn’t know but I thought not.<br />

29 November 1911<br />

I am getting to like him, he is literary, very musical, pleasant-mannered (being an Austrian) <strong>and</strong> I<br />

think really intelligent.<br />

Russell in his Autobiography, 1959<br />

He was perhaps the most perfect example I have ever known of genius as traditionally conceived,<br />

passionate, profound, intense, <strong>and</strong> dominating.<br />

<strong>Wittgenstein</strong> to Russell, Skjolden,<br />

29 October 1913<br />

Identity is the very Devil <strong>and</strong> immensely important; very much more so than I thought. It hangs – like<br />

everything else – directly together with the most fundamental questions, especially with the questions<br />

concerning the occurrence of the same argument in different places of a function. I have all sorts of<br />

ideas for a solution of the problem but could not yet arrive at anything definite. However I don’t lose<br />

courage <strong>and</strong> go on thinking. –<br />

November 1913<br />

Lieber Russell!<br />

I intended to write this letter in German, but it struck me that I did not know whether to call you<br />

„Sie“ or „Du“ so I am reduced to my beastly English jargon! –<br />

In his answer Russell offered <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> to call him „Du“. The following letter <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> wrote<br />

already in German, Russell answered as always in English. This continued until <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> was taken<br />

prisoner in Italy after the Great War. From there he wrote in English, as well as his last two letters to<br />

Russell from 1935.


Russell to <strong>Wittgenstein</strong>’s mother<br />

Dear Mrs. <strong>Wittgenstein</strong>,<br />

I have heard from your son which was a great happiness to me, as I have a profound affection <strong>and</strong><br />

respect for him. I am writing now to ask whether you would do me a great kindness. If anything<br />

happens to him, would you let me know? I only ask because the anxiety is trying. Apart from<br />

affection it is to him that I look for the next real important advance in philosophy.<br />

Yours sincerely, Betr<strong>and</strong> Russell<br />

Russell to <strong>Wittgenstein</strong>, <strong>Cambridge</strong>, 5 February 1915<br />

It was a very great happiness to hear from you – I had been thinking of you constantly <strong>and</strong> longing<br />

for news. I am amazed that you have been able to write a MS. on logic since the war began. I cannot<br />

tell you how great a joy it will be to see you again after the war, if all goes well. If only your MSS<br />

come to me, I will do my utmost to underst<strong>and</strong> them <strong>and</strong> make others underst<strong>and</strong> them; but without<br />

your help it will be difficult. Please remember me to your mother, <strong>and</strong> tell her that you are constantly<br />

in my mind with anxious affection.<br />

Russell to Ottoline Morrell, 1916<br />

Do you remember […] I wrote a lot of stuff about Theory of Knowledge, which <strong>Wittgenstein</strong><br />

criticized with the greatest severity? His criticism, tho’ I don’t think you realized it at the time, was<br />

an event of first-rate importance in my life, <strong>and</strong> affected everything I have done since. I saw he was<br />

right, <strong>and</strong> I saw I could not hope ever again to do fundamental work in philosophy. My impulse was<br />

shattered, like a wave dashed to pieces against a breakwater.<br />

<strong>Wittgenstein</strong> to Russell, 10 March 1919<br />

I’ve written a book which will be published as soon as I get home. I think I have solved our<br />

problems finally. Write to me often. It will shorten my prison. God bless you.<br />

Russell to Ottoline Morrell, Den Haag, 20 December 1919<br />

I have much to tell you that is of interest. I leave here today, after a fortnight’s stay, during a week<br />

of which <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> was here, <strong>and</strong> we discussed his book every day. I came to think even better of<br />

it than I had done; I feel sure it is a really great book, though I do not feel sure it is right. I told him<br />

I could not refute it, <strong>and</strong> that I was sure it was either all right or all wrong, which I considered the<br />

mark of a good book; but it would take me years to decide this. This of course didn’t satisfy him, but<br />

I couldn’t say more.<br />

Russell to Moore, 27 May1929<br />

I think […] that unless <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> has changed his opinions of me, he will not much like to have<br />

me as an Examiner. The last time we met he was so much pained by the fact of my not being a<br />

Christian that he has avoided me ever since; I do not know whether pain on this account has grown<br />

less, but he must still dislike me, as he has never communicated with me since. I do not want him to<br />

run out of the room in the middle of the Viva, which I feel is the sort of thing he might do.<br />

Rush Rhees, Personal Recollections of <strong>Wittgenstein</strong><br />

As <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> came to be examined by Russell <strong>and</strong> Moore, Russell said smiling: “I have never<br />

known anything so absurd in my life” –<br />

Ronald Clark, The Life of Bertr<strong>and</strong> Russell<br />

Moore <strong>and</strong> Russell first chatted informally to <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> as old friends rather than as examiners<br />

<strong>and</strong> examinee. Then Russell turned to Moore. “Go on”, he said, “you’ve got to ask him some<br />

questions – you’re the Professor”. There was a short discussion. Russell made a brief attempt to argue<br />

that <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> was inconsistent in stating that little could be said about philosophy <strong>and</strong> that it was<br />

possible to reach unassailable truth. Then the Viva ended unexpectedly with <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> clapping<br />

each of his examiners on the shoulder <strong>and</strong> exclaiming, “Don’t worry, I know you’ll never underst<strong>and</strong><br />

it.” –


Moore to Russell, 9 March 1930<br />

The Council of Trinity made a grant to <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> last June to enable him to carry on his<br />

researches on the foundations of Mathematics. There is now a question of making him a further<br />

grant; <strong>and</strong> they wish, before they decide, to have expert reports on the work he has done since the<br />

last grant was made. They have authorised me to ask you to make such a report for them. I’m afraid<br />

it will involve a good deal of trouble. <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> has written a great deal; but he says it would be<br />

absolutely necessary for him to explain it to you in conversation, if you are to underst<strong>and</strong> it. I think<br />

he would be very glad to have an opportunity of doing this, but it would no doubt take up a good<br />

deal of your time. I hope very much that you will nevertheless be willing to do it; for there seems<br />

to be no other way of ensuring him a sufficient income to continue his work, unless the Council do<br />

make him a grant; <strong>and</strong> I am afraid there is a very little chance that they will do so, unless they can<br />

get favourable reports from experts in the subject: <strong>and</strong> you are, of course, by far the most competent<br />

person to make one. They would, of course, pay a fee for the report. There would be no need for<br />

you to come here to see <strong>Wittgenstein</strong>. He would arrange to see you, when <strong>and</strong> where it suited you<br />

best.<br />

Russell to Moore, 11 March 1930<br />

I do not see how I can refuse to read <strong>Wittgenstein</strong>’s work <strong>and</strong> make a report on it. At the same time,<br />

since it involves arguing with him, you are right that it will require a great deal of work. I do not<br />

know anything more fatiguing than disagreeing with him in argument. Obviously the best plan for<br />

me would be to read the manuscript carefully first; <strong>and</strong> see him afterwards. How soon could you let<br />

me have his stuff?<br />

Moore to Russell, 13 March 1930<br />

<strong>Wittgenstein</strong> says that he has nothing written which it would be worth while to let you see: all that<br />

he has written is at present in too confused a state. I am sorry that I had not clearly understood this<br />

when I wrote to you before. What he wants is merely to have a chance of explaining to you some<br />

of the results which he has arrived at, so that you might be able to report to the Council whether,<br />

even if you thought them mistaken, you thought them important <strong>and</strong> such that he ought to be given<br />

a chance of going on working on the same lines; <strong>and</strong> I hope that a report of this kind would be<br />

sufficient for the Council. And I should think 3 days would be ample for this, <strong>and</strong> that it wouldn’t be<br />

necessary for you to argue with him much.<br />

Russell to Moore, 5 May 1930<br />

I had a second visit from <strong>Wittgenstein</strong>, but it only lasted thirty-six hours, <strong>and</strong> it did not by any means<br />

suffice for him to give me a synopsis of all that he has done. He left me a large quantity of typescript,<br />

which I am to forward to Littlewood as soon as I have read it. Unfortunately I have been ill <strong>and</strong><br />

have therefore been unable to get on with it as fast as I hoped. I think however, that in the course of<br />

conversation with him I got a fairly good idea of what he is at […]<br />

His theories are certainly important <strong>and</strong> certainly very original. Whether they are true, I do not<br />

know; I devoutly hope they are not, as they make mathematics <strong>and</strong> logic almost incredibly difficult<br />

[…]<br />

I am quite sure that <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> ought to be given an opportunity to pursue his work.<br />

<strong>Wittgenstein</strong> to Russell, Autumn 1935<br />

Two years ago, or so, I promised to send you a M.S. of mine. Now the one I’m sending you today<br />

isn’t that M.S. I’m still pottering about with it <strong>and</strong> God knows whether I will ever publish it, or any of<br />

it. But two years ago I held some lectures in <strong>Cambridge</strong> <strong>and</strong> dictated some notes to my pupils so that<br />

they might have something to carry home with them, in their h<strong>and</strong>s if not in their brains. And I had<br />

these notes duplicated. I have just now been correcting misprints <strong>and</strong> other mistakes in some of the<br />

copies <strong>and</strong> the idea came into my mind whether you might not like to have a copy. So I’m sending<br />

you one. I don’t wish to suggest that you should read the lectures; but if you should have nothing<br />

better to do <strong>and</strong> if you should get some mild enjoyment out of them I would be very pleased indeed.<br />

(I think it’s very difficult to underst<strong>and</strong> them, as so many points are just hinted at. They are meant<br />

only for the people who heard the lectures). As I say, if you don’t read them, it doesn’t matter at all.


G.E. Moore to F.A. Hayek<br />

[At] the beginning of the October term 1912, he came again to some of my psychology lectures; but<br />

he was very displeased with them, because I was spending a great deal of time in discussing Ward’s<br />

view that psychology did not differ from the Natural Sciences in subject-matter but only in point of<br />

view. He told me these lectures were very bad – that what I ought to do was to say what I thought,<br />

not to discuss what other people had thought; <strong>and</strong> he came no more to my lectures. But this did not<br />

prevent him from seeing a great deal of me. He was very anxious at the beginning of this year to<br />

improve the discussion of our philosophical society, which is called the Moral Science Club; <strong>and</strong> he<br />

actually persuaded the Club, with the help of the Secretary <strong>and</strong> me, to adopt a new set of rules <strong>and</strong><br />

to appoint me as Chairman. He himself took a great part in these discussions. In this year both he<br />

<strong>and</strong> I were still attending Russell’s Lectures on the Foundations of Mathematics; but W. used also to<br />

go for hours to Russell’s rooms in the evening to discuss Logic with him. <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> arranged to be<br />

coached in Logic by W.E. Johnson; but Johnson soon found that W. spent so much time in explaining<br />

his own views that he ( Johnson) felt that it was more like being coached by W. than W. being<br />

coached by him; <strong>and</strong> Johnson therefore soon put an end to the arrangement.<br />

<strong>Wittgenstein</strong> to Moore, Skjolden<br />

19 November 1913<br />

Dear Moore,<br />

Many thanks for your P.C. I am very sorry that you feel so miserably at times about your work.<br />

I think, the cause of it is, that you don’t regularely discuss your stuff with anybody who is not yet<br />

stale <strong>and</strong> is really interested in the subject. And I believe that at present there is no such person<br />

up at <strong>Cambridge</strong>. Even Russell – who is of course most extraordinarily fresh for his age – is no<br />

more pliable enough for this purpose. Don’t you think it would be a good thing if we had regular<br />

discussions when you come to me at Easter? Not – of course – that I am any good at the subject!<br />

But I am not yet stale <strong>and</strong> care for it very much. I can’t help thinking that this would make you lose<br />

your feeling of sterility. I think you ought to think about your problems with the view to discussing<br />

them with me at Easter. Now don’t you think that I am arrogant in saying this! I don’t for a moment<br />

believe that I could get as clear about your questions as you can, but – as I said before – I am not yet<br />

wasted <strong>and</strong> am very interested in the stuff. Do think this over. – let me hear from you soon.<br />

March 1914<br />

Why on earth won’t you do your paper here? You shall have a sitting-room with a splendid view<br />

all by yourself <strong>and</strong> I shall leave you alone as much as you like (in fact the whole day, if necessary).<br />

On the other h<strong>and</strong> we could see one another whenever both of us should like to. And we could even<br />

talk over your bussines (which might be fun). Or do you want so many books? You see – I have<br />

plenty to do myself, so I shan’t disturb you a bit. Do take the Boat that leaves Newcastle on 17th<br />

arriving in Bergen on the 19th <strong>and</strong> do your work here (I might even have a good influence upon it<br />

by preventing too many repetitions). I think, now, that Logic must be very nearly done if it is not<br />

already. – So do think over what I’ve said!!<br />

Yours, etc., etc.<br />

L.W.<br />

P.S. Oh – Do buy the „Schicksalslied“ by Brahms in an arrangement for 4 h<strong>and</strong>s <strong>and</strong> bring it with<br />

you. And, please, send a telegram if you come on the 19th. I hope you will.<br />

G.E. Moore to F.A. Hayek<br />

I arrived late on March 26 th , 1914, <strong>and</strong> found W. there to meet me. We spent two nights at Bergen,<br />

<strong>and</strong> then went on by train, sledge, steamer <strong>and</strong> motor-boat to Skjolden, where <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> was<br />

staying, spending one night on the way at Flaam, at a hotel which was mostly shut up, because it was<br />

out of season; W. had arranged beforeh<strong>and</strong> that we should be able to sleep there, but we were the<br />

only guests. I was with him at Skjolden only 15 days. He dictated to me there some notes on Logic,<br />

which I still have. He also took me to a site where he proposed to build a house; but the house<br />

which he afterwards actually built near Skjolden was on a different site. At the end of the 15 days he<br />

accompanied me back to Bergen, <strong>and</strong> we again spent one night together at Flaam, <strong>and</strong> one night at<br />

Bergen.


Skjolden, 7 May 1914<br />

Dear Moore,<br />

Your letter annoyed me. When I wrote Logik I didn’t consult the Regulations, <strong>and</strong> therefore I think it<br />

would only be fair if you gave me my degree without consulting them so much either! As to a<br />

Preface <strong>and</strong> Notes; I think my examiners will easily see how much I have cribbed from Bosanquet.<br />

– If I’m not worth your making an exception for me even in some stupid details then I may as well go<br />

to Hell directly; <strong>and</strong> if I am worth it <strong>and</strong> you don’t do it then – by God – you might go there.<br />

The whole business is too stupid <strong>and</strong> too beastly to go on writing about it so –<br />

L.W.<br />

<strong>Wittgenstein</strong> left <strong>Cambridge</strong> University without a degree. Logik, his B.A. dissertation no longer exists.<br />

How this work, written in German, relates to his Tractatus Logiko-Philosophics is not known.<br />

Wien XVII<br />

Neuwaldeggerstraße 38<br />

July 3 rd , ’14<br />

Dear Moore,<br />

Upon clearing up some papers before leaving Skjolden I popped upon your letter which had made<br />

me so wild. And upon reading it over again I found that I had probably no sufficient reason to write<br />

to you as I did. (Not that I like your letter a bit now.) But at any rate my wrath has cooled down <strong>and</strong><br />

I’d rather be friends with you again than otherwise. I consider I have strained myself enough now for<br />

I would not have written this to many people <strong>and</strong> if you don’t answer this I shan’t write to you again.<br />

Yours, etc., etc.<br />

L. W.<br />

Moore did not answer. The friendship is renewed on the day of <strong>Wittgenstein</strong>’s return to <strong>Cambridge</strong>,<br />

when, on the 28 th of January, they accidetally meet in the train from London to <strong>Cambridge</strong>.<br />

Diary of G.E. Moore, 12 October 1915<br />

Dream of <strong>Wittgenstein</strong>, he looks at me as if to ask if it is all right, <strong>and</strong> I can’t help smiling as<br />

if it was, though I know it isn’t; then he is swimming in the sea; finally he is trying to escape arrest as<br />

an enemy alien.<br />

<strong>Wittgenstein</strong> to Moore,<br />

March - April 1930<br />

I am in Vienna now, doing the most loathsome work of dictating a synopsis from my manuscripts.<br />

It is a terrible bit of work <strong>and</strong> I feel wretched doing it. I saw Russell the other day at Petersfield <strong>and</strong>,<br />

against my original intention, started to explain to him Philosophy. Of course we couldn’t get very far<br />

in two days but he seemed to underst<strong>and</strong> a little bit of it. My plan is to go <strong>and</strong> see him in Cornwall<br />

on the 22 nd or 23 rd of April <strong>and</strong> to give him the synopsis <strong>and</strong> a few explanations.<br />

23 August 1931<br />

I’ve had a very busy time since I left <strong>Cambridge</strong> <strong>and</strong> have done a fair amount of work. Now I want<br />

you to do me a favour: I don’t intend to give any formal lectures this term as I think I must reserve<br />

all my strength for my own work.<br />

Maurice O’Connor Drury, Recollections 1938<br />

G.E. Moore was retiring from the Professorship of Philosophy at <strong>Cambridge</strong>. <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> was<br />

debating whether he would apply for the chair.<br />

<strong>Wittgenstein</strong>: “I would never be elected. I am now only a ‘has been’. Nobody wants a ‘has been’.<br />

One of the electors is Collingwood of Oxford. Can you imagine him voting for me?”<br />

After his election, <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> told me that Broad had said: “To refuse the chair to <strong>Wittgenstein</strong><br />

would be like refusing Einstein a chair of Physics.” <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> knew how antipathetic Broad was to<br />

anyone of <strong>Wittgenstein</strong>’s temperament, <strong>and</strong> he appreciated this tribute.


<strong>Wittgenstein</strong> to O.K. Bouwsma during his trip to the US, 11 October 1949<br />

Moore is a man who is full of questions but he has no talent for disentangling things. It is one thing<br />

when you have a tangle of thread to lay it down that some threads run so: = <strong>and</strong> some: || <strong>and</strong> some:<br />

//, but it is quite another thing to take an end <strong>and</strong> follow it through, pulling it out, <strong>and</strong> looping it on,<br />

etc. Moore could not do this. He was barren. Now Russell was different in his good days. He was<br />

wonderful.<br />

<strong>Wittgenstein</strong> to Moore<br />

Ross’s Hotel, Parkgate Street, Dublin, Eire<br />

16 December 48<br />

Dear Moore,<br />

The enclosed card is to wish you as much happiness <strong>and</strong> as little unhappiness as possible. But I’m<br />

also writing you this note: for two reasons. I had a letter <strong>and</strong> Christmas card from Malcolm, <strong>and</strong><br />

he says that he hasn’t yet heard from you. When I read this I thought of your telling me that you’d<br />

write to him; that was in October in your room when I mentioned the fact that he had complained<br />

to me about not hearing from you. And at the same time I thought of something else you promised<br />

me then, i.e., putting it into your will that my typescripts, now in your possession, should, after your<br />

death, go to my executors, or to me if I should then be alive. – This letter is to remind you of both<br />

matters, in case you have forgotten. You are in a position to give a great deal of pleasure (in the first<br />

case) <strong>and</strong> to avert a great deal of distress (in the second) by comparatively simple means.<br />

Rhees is coming here for 10 days next week. I am well <strong>and</strong> working pretty hard. May you be well,<br />

too!<br />

Forgive me this lengthy letter.<br />

Yours<br />

Ludwig <strong>Wittgenstein</strong><br />

31 December 1948<br />

Dear Moore,<br />

Thanks for your letter <strong>and</strong> for having fulfilled both promises. My executors are Rhees <strong>and</strong> Burnaby of<br />

Trinity.<br />

I wish you all good luck!<br />

Yours<br />

L. <strong>Wittgenstein</strong><br />

<strong>Wittgenstein</strong> to Norman Malcolm, 18 February 1949<br />

Now as to Moore: I don’t really underst<strong>and</strong> Moore, <strong>and</strong> therefore, what I’ll say may be quite wrong.<br />

But this is what I’m inclined to say: – That Moore is in some sense extraordinarily childlike is<br />

obvious, <strong>and</strong> the remark you quoted (about vanity) is certainly an example of that childlikeness. There<br />

is also a certain innocence about Moore; he is, e.g., completely unvain. As to it’s being to his “credit”<br />

to be childlike, – I can’t underst<strong>and</strong> that; unless it’s also to a child’s credit. For you aren’t talking of<br />

the innocence of a man who has fought for, but of an innocence which comes from a natural absence<br />

of a temptation. – I believe that all you wanted to say was that you liked, or even loved, Moore’s<br />

childlikeness. And that I can underst<strong>and</strong>. – I think that our discrepancy here is not so much one of<br />

thoughts as of feelings. I like <strong>and</strong> greatly respect Moore, but that’s all. He doesn’t warm my heart (or<br />

very little), because what warms my heart most is human kindness, <strong>and</strong> Moore – just like a child – is<br />

not kind. He is kindly <strong>and</strong> can be charming <strong>and</strong> nice to those he likes <strong>and</strong> he has a great depth. –<br />

That’s how it seems to me. If I’m wrong, I’m wrong. –


Russell to Keynes on <strong>Wittgenstein</strong>‘s election to the Apostles, 11 November 1912<br />

All the difficulties I anticipated have arisen with <strong>Wittgenstein</strong>. I persuaded him at last to come to the<br />

first meeting <strong>and</strong> see how he could st<strong>and</strong> it. Obviously from his point of view the Society is a mere<br />

waste of time. But perhaps from a philosophical point of view he might be made to feel it worth<br />

going on with. I feel, on reflection, very doubtful whether I did well to persuade him to come next<br />

Saturday, as I feel sure he will retire in disgust. But I feel it is the business of the active brethren to<br />

settle this before next Saturday. If he is going to retire, it would be better it should be before election.<br />

Keynes to <strong>Wittgenstein</strong>, 10 January 1915<br />

I am astonished to have got a letter from you. Do you think it proves that you existed within a short<br />

time of my getting it? I think so. I hope you have been safely taken prisoner by now.<br />

Russell <strong>and</strong> I have given up philosophy for the present – I to give my services to the Govt for<br />

financial business, he to agitate for peace. But Moore <strong>and</strong> Johnson go on just as usual.<br />

Ramsey to Keynes, Vienna, 24 March 1924<br />

With regard to <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> I do not think it is any good at all trying to get him to live any pleasanter<br />

a life, or stop the ridiculous waste of his energy <strong>and</strong> brain. I only see this clearly now because I have<br />

got to know one of his sisters <strong>and</strong> met the rest of the family.<br />

They are very rich <strong>and</strong> extremely anxious to give him money or do anything for him in any way,<br />

<strong>and</strong> he rejects all their advances; even Christmas presents or presents of invalid’s food, when he is ill,<br />

he sends back. And this is not because they aren’t on good terms but because he won’t have money<br />

he hasn’t earned except for some very specific purpose like to come <strong>and</strong> see you again. I think he<br />

teaches to earn money <strong>and</strong> would only stop teaching if he had some other way of earning money<br />

which was preferable. And it would have to be really earning, he wouldn’t accept any job which<br />

seemed in the least to be wangled for him.<br />

<strong>Wittgenstein</strong> to Keynes,<br />

18 October 1925<br />

My dear Keynes,<br />

Thanks so much for your letter! I am still teacher <strong>and</strong> don’t want any money at present. I have<br />

decided to remain teacher, as long as I feel that the troubles into which I get that way, may do me<br />

any good. If one has toothache it is good to put a hot-water bottle on your face, but it will only be<br />

effective, as long as the heat of the bottle gives you some pain. I will chuck the bottle when I find<br />

that it no longer gives me the particular kind of pain which will do my character any good. That<br />

is, if people here don’t turn me out before that time. If I leave off teaching I will probably come to<br />

Engl<strong>and</strong> <strong>and</strong> look for a job there, because I am convinced that I cannot find anything at all possible<br />

in this country. In this case I will want your help.<br />

Summer 1927<br />

It’s ages since you have heard from me. […] I won’t try to explain my long silence: there were lots<br />

of reasons for it. I had a great many troubles one overlapping the other <strong>and</strong> postponed writing until<br />

they would be all over. But now I have interrupted my troubles by a short holiday <strong>and</strong> this is the<br />

occasion to write to you. I have given up teaching long ago (about 14 months)* <strong>and</strong> have taken to<br />

architecture. I’m building a house in Vienna. This gives me heaps of troubles <strong>and</strong> I’m not even sure<br />

that I’m not going to make a mess of it. However I believe it will be finished about November <strong>and</strong><br />

then I might take a trip to Engl<strong>and</strong> if anybody there should care to see me. I should very much like<br />

to see you again <strong>and</strong> meanwhile to get a line from you.<br />

About your book I forgot to say that I liked it. It shows that you know that there are more things<br />

between heaven <strong>and</strong> earth etc.<br />

Please remember me to your wife.<br />

Yours ever<br />

Ludwig<br />

* I couldn’t st<strong>and</strong> the hot bottle any longer.


<strong>Wittgenstein</strong> to Keynes, October/November 1928<br />

I’ve just finished my house that has kept me entirely busy these last two years. Now however I will<br />

have some holidays <strong>and</strong> naturally want to see you again as soon as possible. The question is, would<br />

you mind seeing me. If not, write a line. I could come to Engl<strong>and</strong> in the first days of December but<br />

not before, as I must first set to rights part of my anatomy. Enclosed you will find a few photos of my<br />

house <strong>and</strong> hope you won’t be too much disgusted by its simplicity.<br />

Keynes to his wife Lydia Lopokova, 18 November 1928<br />

A letter from Ludwig. He has finished his house <strong>and</strong> sends photographs of it – à la Corbusier; <strong>and</strong><br />

wants to come to stay with me here in about a fortnight. Am I strong enough? Perhaps if I do not<br />

work between now <strong>and</strong> then, I shall be.<br />

<strong>Wittgenstein</strong> to Keynes, December 1928<br />

I had to postpone my trip, as my health was not quite strong enough in the first days of this month.<br />

But I am nearly well now <strong>and</strong> want to come to Engl<strong>and</strong> in the beginning of January. Please write a<br />

line letting me know if I can see you then.<br />

Keynes to his wife,<br />

18 January 1929<br />

My dearest sweet, Well, God has arrived. I met him on the 5.15 train. He has a plan to stay in<br />

<strong>Cambridge</strong> permanently. Meanwhile we have had tea <strong>and</strong> now I retire to my study to write to you. I<br />

see that the fatigue is going to be crushing. But I must not let him talk to me for more than two or<br />

three hours a day.<br />

25 February 1929<br />

Last night Ludwig came to dinner. He was much more ‘normal’ in every way than I have ever<br />

known him. One woman at last has succeeded in soothing the fierceness of the savage hunter –<br />

Lettice Ramsey, under whose roof he stayed in the end for nearly a fortnight, before moving to Mrs.<br />

Dobbs<br />

19 January1930<br />

Frank Ramsey died last night. We are all very much overwhelmed by feelings about it. All yesterday<br />

the news seemed desperate. He was in his way the greatest genius in the College <strong>and</strong> such a dear<br />

creature besides. Poor Lettice <strong>and</strong> her two babies …<br />

<strong>Wittgenstein</strong> to Keynes,<br />

6 July 1935<br />

I want to speak to officials at two institutions; one is the ‘Institute of the North’ in Leningrad, the<br />

other the ‘Institute of National Minorities’ in Moscow. These Institutes, as I am told, deal with people<br />

who want to go to the ‘colonies’ the newly colonized parts at the periphery of the U.S.S.R. I want to<br />

get information <strong>and</strong> possibly help from people in these Institutes.<br />

30 June 1935<br />

I’m sorry I must trouble you with my affairs again. There are two things I want to ask you:<br />

(a) I thought the other day when we talked in your room you were not disinclined to give me<br />

some sort of introduction to Maisky the Ambassador. I then said I thought he would not be the man<br />

who would give me the advice I wanted. But I’ve been told since that if he were inclined to give me<br />

a letter of introduction to some officials in Russia it would help me a lot. Therefore my first question<br />

is, would you be willing to give me an introduction to Maisky so as to make it possible for me to<br />

have a conversation with him, as the result of which he might give me an introduction?<br />

(b) I have now more or less decided to go to Russia as a Tourist in September <strong>and</strong> see whether<br />

it is possible for me to get a suitable job there. If I find (which, I’m afraid is quite likely) that I<br />

can’t find such a job, or get permission to work in Russia, then I should want to return to Engl<strong>and</strong><br />

<strong>and</strong> if possible study Medicine. Now when you told me that you would finance me during my<br />

medical training you did not know, I think, that I wanted to go to Russia <strong>and</strong> that I would try to get


permission to practise medicine in Russia. I know that you are not in favour of my going there (<strong>and</strong><br />

I think I underst<strong>and</strong> you). Therefore I must ask you whether, under these circumstances, you would<br />

still be prepared to help me. I don’t like to ask you this question, not because I risk a “No”, but<br />

because I hate asking any questions about this matter.<br />

If you reply please just write on a P.C.: (a) No or (a) Yes, etc. (b) No, etc. as the case may be. I<br />

shall not think it the least unkind of you if you answer both a <strong>and</strong> b negatively.<br />

I left your room the other day with a sad feeling. It is only too natural that you shouldn’t entirely<br />

underst<strong>and</strong> what makes me do what I am doing, nor how hard it is for me.<br />

Keynes’ introduction to Maisky, 10 July 1935<br />

I must leave it to him to tell you his reasons for wanting to go to Russia. He is not a member of the<br />

Communist Party, but has strong sympathies with the way of life which he believes the new régime<br />

in Russia st<strong>and</strong>s for.<br />

<strong>Wittgenstein</strong> to Keynes, 18 March 1938<br />

I want to describe to you my present situation <strong>and</strong> ask you whether you can by any chance, in some<br />

way not too difficult for you, give me some advice or help. You know that by the annexation of<br />

Austria by Germany I have become a German citizen <strong>and</strong>, by the German laws, a German Jew (as<br />

three of my gr<strong>and</strong>parents were baptised only as adults). The same, of course, applies to my brother<br />

<strong>and</strong> sisters (not to their children, they count as aryans). As my people in Vienna are almost all retiring<br />

<strong>and</strong> very respected people who have always felt <strong>and</strong> behaved patriotically it is, on the whole, unlikely<br />

that they are at present in any danger. I have not yet heard from them since the invasion <strong>and</strong> there<br />

hasn’t been time as they would wait in any case with giving me news until things had settled down<br />

a bit. I wrote to them a week ago saying that if they needed me I would come home any time. But I<br />

believe that they aren’t going to call me <strong>and</strong> also that I couldn’t at present do anything for them, except<br />

possibly cheering them up a little. – If however I went to Vienna now the consequences would be<br />

a) that my passport, being an Austrian one, would be taken away from me <strong>and</strong> b) that, in all<br />

likelihood, no passport would be given to me; as passports, except in very special cases, are not, I<br />

gather, issued to German Jews. I could therefore c) not leave Austria again <strong>and</strong> d) never again get a job.<br />

My people, who were rich before the war, are still wealthyish <strong>and</strong> will probably, even when a lot<br />

will be taken away from them, still have enough money to keep me (<strong>and</strong> they would gladly do so) but<br />

I needn’t say this would be the last thing that I’ld wish to happen.<br />

I also must say that the idea of becoming (or being) a German citizen, even apart from all the nasty<br />

consequences, is appalling to me. (This may be foolish, but it just is so.)<br />

For all these reasons I have now decided to try 1) to get a University job at <strong>Cambridge</strong>, 2) to<br />

acquire British citizenship.<br />

The thought of acquiring British citizenship had occurred to me before; but I have always rejected<br />

it on the ground: that I do not wish to become a sham-Englishman (I think you will underst<strong>and</strong> what<br />

I mean). The situation has however entirely changed for me now. For now I have to choose between<br />

two new nationalities, one of which deprives me of everything, while the other, at least, would allow me<br />

to work in a country in which I have spent on <strong>and</strong> off the greater part of my adult life, have made my<br />

greatest friends <strong>and</strong> have done my best work.<br />

Now if I wish to try to become naturalised here I’m afraid I have to make haste; one of the reasons<br />

being that (as Sraffa pointed out to me) it would be easier as long as I hold an Austrian passport. And<br />

this I might have to give up before so very long.<br />

As to getting a job at <strong>Cambridge</strong> you may remember that I was an assistant faculty lecturer for 5<br />

years, <strong>and</strong> that the regulations don’t allow one to hold this job for more than 5 years. When my 5<br />

years had expired the faculty allowed me to go on lecturing as before <strong>and</strong> they went on paying me as<br />

before. Now it is for this that I shall apply, for there is no other job vacant. I had, in fact, thought of<br />

doing so anyway; though not now, but perhaps next autumn. But it would be important now for me to<br />

get a job as quickly as possible; for a) it would help me in becoming naturalised <strong>and</strong> b) if I failed in this<br />

<strong>and</strong> had to become a German I would have more chance to be allowed out of Austria again on visiting<br />

my people if I had a Job in Engl<strong>and</strong>. […]<br />

I want to add that I’m in no sort of financial difficulties. I shall have about 300 or 400 £ <strong>and</strong> can<br />

therefore hold out for another year or so.


<strong>Wittgenstein</strong> to Ramsey, Summer 1923<br />

I’ve got a letter from Mr. Ogden the other day saying that you may possibly come to Vienna in<br />

one of these next months. Now as you have so excellently translated the Tractatus into English I’ve<br />

no doubt you will be able to translate a letter too <strong>and</strong> therefore I’m going to write the rest of this in<br />

German.<br />

Minutes of <strong>Cambridge</strong> University Moral Sciences Club, 26 January 1923<br />

The basis of <strong>Wittgenstein</strong>’s logic is his theory of symbolism. His main concern is to express the<br />

conditions under which a proposition can express a fact. The reader held that in <strong>Wittgenstein</strong>’s<br />

analysis there is only what he calls sentence – no third entity, the proposition – the sentence is not a<br />

name for the proposition but they are equivalent. A series of words, to express a proposition, must<br />

have the logical form of the fact. The sentence has logical structure only if the proposition is true.<br />

The world consists of facts. Facts may contain parts which are other facts. The analysis of these parts<br />

yields finally the constituents which may be called ‘singles’ or ‘objects’, from which all complex<br />

entities are built up. An interesting point which was not revived in the later discussion dealt with<br />

<strong>Wittgenstein</strong>’s denial of the causal nexus. He seems here to be denying two different things <strong>and</strong><br />

incidentally to remove the possibility for holding the propositions of the natural science, which he yet<br />

seems to wish to retain. The reader of the paper raised among others three questions for discussion<br />

1) Is the picture theory expungable?<br />

2) Assuming it to be true what does it rule out?<br />

3) What are the ‘simples’?<br />

The discussion however turned largely on the question of the identification of sentence <strong>and</strong><br />

proposition – a position which was attacked by the chairman (Moore). A great many difficulties on<br />

this <strong>and</strong> other points were revealed, but not resolved by the discussion which terminated at 11.30 p.m.<br />

Ramsey to his mother,<br />

Velden am Wörther See, 22 July 1924<br />

We really live in a great time for thinking, with Einstein Freud <strong>and</strong> <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> all alive(, <strong>and</strong> all in<br />

Germany or Austria those foes of civilisation!)<br />

Puchberg am Schneeberg, 20 September 1923<br />

<strong>Wittgenstein</strong> is a teacher in the Village school. He is very poor, at least he lives very economically.<br />

He has one tiny room whitewashed, containing a bed, washst<strong>and</strong>, small table <strong>and</strong> one hard chair <strong>and</strong><br />

that is all there is room for. His evening meal which I shared last night is rather unpleasant coarse<br />

bread, butter <strong>and</strong> cocoa. His school hours are 8 to 12 or 1 <strong>and</strong> he seems to be free all the afternoon.<br />

He looks younger than he can possibly be; but he says he has bad eyes <strong>and</strong> a cold. But his general<br />

appearance is athlethic. In explaining his philosophy he is excited <strong>and</strong> makes vigorous gestures but<br />

relieves the tension by a charming laugh. He has blue eyes.<br />

Ramsey to <strong>Wittgenstein</strong>, 20 February 1924<br />

Thanks for your letter; except that I think you might enjoy it, I [all underlining by <strong>Wittgenstein</strong>]<br />

no longer want you to come here this summer, because I am coming to Vienna, for some <strong>and</strong> perhaps the<br />

whole of it! I can’t say exactly when or for how long, but very likely, next month, so I shall hope to<br />

see you quite soon now.<br />

This is for various reasons: I hope to settle permanently in <strong>Cambridge</strong>, but as I have always lived<br />

here, I want to go away for a time first, <strong>and</strong> have the chance now for six months. And if I live in<br />

Vienna I can learn German, <strong>and</strong> come <strong>and</strong> see you often, (unless you object) <strong>and</strong> discuss my work<br />

with you, which would be most helpful. Also I have been very depressed <strong>and</strong> done little work, <strong>and</strong> have<br />

symptoms so closely resembling some of those described by Freud that I shall probably try to be psychoanalysed,<br />

for which Vienna would be very convenient, <strong>and</strong> which would make me stay there the whole six months.<br />

But I’m afraid you won’t agree with this.<br />

Keynes still means to write to you; it really is a disease – his procrastination; but he doesn’t (unlike<br />

me) take such disabilities so seriously as to go to Freud! He very much hopes you will come <strong>and</strong> see<br />

him.


I haven’t seen Johnson for a long time but I am going to tea with his sister soon, <strong>and</strong> unless he is ill<br />

I will give him your love (last time I went there he was ill). The third part of his Logic is to be published<br />

soon. It deals with Causation.<br />

I am so sorry you are using up all your strength struggling with your surroundings; it must be terribly<br />

difficult with the other teachers. Are you staying on in Puchberg? When I saw you, you had some idea of<br />

leaving if it got too impossible, <strong>and</strong> becoming a gardener.<br />

I can’t write about work, it is such an effort when my ideas are so vague, <strong>and</strong> I’m going to see you<br />

soon. Anyhow I have done little except, I think, made out the proper solution rather in detail of some<br />

of the contradictions which made Russell’s Theory of Types unnecessarily complicated, <strong>and</strong> made him put<br />

in the Axiom of Reducibility. I went to see Russell a few weeks ago, <strong>and</strong> am reading the manuscript of<br />

the new stuff he is putting into the Principia. You are quite right that it is of no importance; all it really<br />

amounts to is a clever proof of mathematical induction without using the axiom of reducibility. There are no<br />

fundamental changes, identity just as it used to be. I felt he was too old: he seemed to underst<strong>and</strong> <strong>and</strong> say<br />

“yes” to each separate thing, but it made no impression so that 3 minutes afterwards he talked on his old<br />

lines. Of all your work he seems now to accept only this: that it is nonsense to put an adjective where a substantive<br />

ought to be which helps in his theory of types.<br />

He indignantly denied ever having said that vagueness is a characteristic of the physical world.<br />

He has 2 children now <strong>and</strong> is very devoted to them. I liked him very much. […]<br />

I had a long discussion with Moore the other day, who has grasped more of your work than I should have<br />

expected.<br />

I’m sorry I’m not getting on better with the foundations of mathematics; I have got several ideas<br />

but they are still dim.<br />

I hope you are well, <strong>and</strong> as happy as you can be under the circumstances. It gives me great<br />

pleasure that probably I shall see you soon.<br />

Ramsey to Keynes, Vienna, 24 March 1924<br />

With regard to <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> I do not think it is any good at all trying to get him to live any pleasanter<br />

a life, or stop the ridiculous waste of his energy <strong>and</strong> brain. I only see this clearly now because I have<br />

got to know one of his sisters <strong>and</strong> met the rest of the family.<br />

They are very rich <strong>and</strong> extremely anxious to give him money or do anything for him in any way,<br />

<strong>and</strong> he rejects all their advances; even Christmas presents or presents of invalid’s food, when he is ill,<br />

he sends back. And this is not because they aren’t on good terms but because he won’t have money he<br />

hasn’t earned except for some very specific purpose like to come <strong>and</strong> see you again. I think he teaches<br />

to earn money <strong>and</strong> would only stop teaching if he had some other way of earning money which was<br />

preferable. And it would have to be really earning, he wouldn’t accept any job which seemed in the<br />

least to be wangled for him. It is an awful pity; it seems to be the result of a terribly strict upbringing.<br />

Three of his brothers committed suicide they were made to work so hard by their father: at one time<br />

the eight children had twenty-six private tutors; <strong>and</strong> their mother took no interest in them.<br />

Ramsey to his mother, Puchberg am Schneeberg, 20 September1923<br />

He is prepared to give 4 or 5 hours a day to explaining his book. I have had two days <strong>and</strong> got through<br />

7 (+ incidental forwards references) out of 80 pages. And when the book is done I shall try to pump<br />

him for ideas for its further development which I shall attempt. He says he himself will do nothing<br />

more, not because he is bored, but because his mind is no longer flexible. He says no one can do<br />

more than 5 or 10 years work at philosophy. (His book took 7.) And he is sure Russell will do nothing<br />

more important. His idea of his book is not that anyone by reading it will underst<strong>and</strong> his ideas, but<br />

that some day someone will think them out again for himself, <strong>and</strong> will derive great pleasure from<br />

finding in this book their exact expressions. I think he exaggerates his own verbal inspiration, it is<br />

much more careful than I supposed but I think it reflects the way the ideas came to him which might<br />

not be the same with another man.<br />

He has already answered my chief difficulty which I have puzzled over for a year <strong>and</strong> given up in<br />

despair myself <strong>and</strong> decided he had not seen. (It is not in the 1st 7 pages but arose by the way.) He is<br />

great. I used to think Moore a great man but beside W!<br />

He says I shall forget everything he explains in a few days; Moore in Norway said he understood<br />

W completely <strong>and</strong> when he got back to Engl<strong>and</strong> was no wiser than when he started.


It’s terrible when he says “Is that clear” <strong>and</strong> I say “no” <strong>and</strong> he says “Damn it’s horrid to go through<br />

that again”. Sometimes he says I can’t see that now we must leave it. He often forgot the meaning of<br />

what he wrote within 5 minutes, <strong>and</strong> then remembered it later. Some of his sentences are intentionally<br />

ambiguous having an ordinary meaning <strong>and</strong> a more difficult meaning which he also believes.<br />

He is, I can see, a little annoyed that Russell is doing a new edition of Principia because he thought<br />

he had shown R that it was so wrong that a new edition would be futile. It must be done altogether<br />

afresh. He had a week with Russell 4 years ago.<br />

<strong>Wittgenstein</strong> to his sister Hermine, September 1923<br />

Auch ich konnte jetzt ein paar Tage kaum reden, weil ich in der letzten Zeit den ganzen Tag reden<br />

mußte. Vormittags in der Schule und nachmittags mit Ramsey aus <strong>Cambridge</strong> der beinahe 14 Tage<br />

hier geblieben ist. Es war ein Vergnügen auch für mich, wenn auch eine sehr große Anstrengung. –<br />

Ramsey wird mir in einiger Zeit ein Exemplar der Abh<strong>and</strong>lung schicken und das kannst Du dann<br />

haben.<br />

For a few days, I too could hardly speak as I have had to talk the whole day. Mornings at school<br />

<strong>and</strong> in the afternoon with Ramsey from <strong>Cambridge</strong>, who has stayed here for nearly a fortnight. It<br />

was a pleasure for me too, but at the same time a huge effort. – Ramsey will send me a copy of the<br />

Tractatus, which then you can have.<br />

Frank Ramsey to G.E. Moore, 14 July 1929<br />

In my opinion Mr <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> is a philosophic genius of a different order from anyone else I<br />

know. This is partly owing to his great gift for seeing what is essential in a problem <strong>and</strong> partly to his<br />

overwhelming intellectual vigour, to the intensity of thought with which he pursues a question to the<br />

bottom <strong>and</strong> never rests content with a mere possible hypothesis. From his work more than that of<br />

any other man I hope for a solution of the difficulties that perplex me both in philosophy generally<br />

<strong>and</strong> in the foundation of Mathematics in particular. It seems to me, therefore, peculiarly fortunate that<br />

he should have returned to research. During the last two terms I have been in close touch with his<br />

work <strong>and</strong> he seems to me to have made remarkable progress. He began with certain questions in the<br />

analysis of propositions which have now led him to problems about infinity which lie at the root of<br />

current controversies on the foundations of Mathematics. At first I was afraid that lack of mathematical<br />

knowledge <strong>and</strong> facility would prove a serious h<strong>and</strong>icap to his working in this field. But the progress he<br />

had made has already convinced me that this is not so, <strong>and</strong> that here too he will probably do work of<br />

the first importance. He is now working very hard <strong>and</strong>, so far as I can judge he is getting on well. For<br />

him to be interrupted by lack of money would be a great misfortune for philosophy. –<br />

F.R. Leavis, Memoirs of <strong>Wittgenstein</strong><br />

[A]s midnight approached I said, as if suddenly recalling the fact: “Didn’t you tell me that you were<br />

reading a paper to the Aristotelian Society at Nottingham tomorrow?” I added, by way of reinforcing<br />

the stimulus: “lt’s nearly twelve”. He exclaimed: “I’m a bloody fool! – Walk back with me.” […]<br />

Arrived at the front door, I knocked, <strong>and</strong> said to <strong>Wittgenstein</strong>: “You’ll go to bed at once, won’t you?”<br />

He answered, with the inertness of exhaustion: “You don’t underst<strong>and</strong>. When I’m engaged on a piece<br />

of work I’m always afraid I shall die before I’ve finished it. So I make a fair copy of the day’s work,<br />

<strong>and</strong> give it to Frank Ramsey for safe-keeping. I haven’t made today’s copy.”<br />

[…]<br />

I was walking once with <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> when I was moved, by something he said, to remark, with<br />

a suggestion of innocent inquiry in my tone: “You don’t think much of most other philosophers,<br />

<strong>Wittgenstein</strong>?” – “No. Those I have my use for you could divide into two classes. Suppose I was<br />

directing someone of the first to Emmanuel” – it was then my college – “I should say: ‘You see that<br />

steeple over there? Emmanuel is three hundred <strong>and</strong> fifty yards to the west-southwest of it’. That man,<br />

the first class, would get there. Hm! very rare – in fact I’ve never met him. To the second I should<br />

say: ‘You go a hundred yards straight ahead, turn half-left <strong>and</strong> go forty’ . . . <strong>and</strong> so on. That man<br />

would ultimately get there. Very rare too; in fact I don’t know that I’ve met him.” Thereupon I asked,<br />

referring to the well-known young <strong>Cambridge</strong> genius (who was to die while still young): “What about<br />

Frank Ramsey?” – “Ramsey? He can see the next step if you point it out.”


Ein beßrer Pädagog muß kommen, und dem Kinde das<br />

erschöpfte Elementarbuch aus den Händen reißen.–<br />

Lessing Die Erziehung des Menschengeschlechts<br />

A better teacher must come <strong>and</strong> tear the primer from the<br />

child that has outgrown it.<br />

Lessing Education of Mankind<br />

<strong>Wittgenstein</strong>’s Philosophy<br />

or a Reorientation of Science<br />

<strong>Wittgenstein</strong>’s Philosophy<br />

In Ludwig <strong>Wittgenstein</strong>’s own view, his work was primarily concerned with the<br />

foundations of mathematics, the language of science.<br />

Der Philosoph spürt Wechsel im Stil einer Ableitung, an denen der<br />

Mathematiker von heute, mit seinem stumpfen Gesicht ruhig vorübergeht. —<br />

Eine höhere Sensibilität ist es eigentlich, was den Mathematiker der Zukunft von<br />

dem heutigen unterscheiden wird; und die wird die Mathematik – gleichsam –<br />

stutzen; weil man dann mehr auf die absolute Klarheit als auf ein/das/ Erfinden<br />

neuer Spiele bedacht sein wird.<br />

A philosopher feels changes in the style of a derivation which a contemporary<br />

mathematician passes over calmly with a blank face. — What will actually<br />

distinguish the mathematician of the future from those of today will be a greater<br />

sensitivity, <strong>and</strong> that will – as it were – prune mathematics; since people will then<br />

be more intent on absolute clarity than on the invention of new games.<br />

Die philosophische Klarheit wird auf das Wachstum der Mathematik den<br />

gleichen Einfluß haben, wie das Sonnenlicht auf das Wachsen der Kartoffeltriebe.<br />

(Im dunkeln Keller wachsen sie meterlang.)<br />

Philosophical clarity will have the same effect on the growth of mathematics as<br />

the sun has on the growth of potato sprouts. (In a dark cellar they grow metres<br />

long.)<br />

Scientists, who divide the world into disciplines assigned to specialists, argue that<br />

<strong>Wittgenstein</strong> was mistaken about himself in the same way as Goethe, who considered<br />

himself more of a naturalist than a poet. Not surprisingly, <strong>Wittgenstein</strong>’s work on the<br />

foundations of mathematics is largely ignored. It is considered unworthy of the author of<br />

the Tractatus <strong>and</strong> the Philosophical Investigations.<br />

This is clearly an important problem for anyone studying <strong>Wittgenstein</strong>: Only<br />

a genius like Frank Ramsey, who to this day exerts a major influence on mathematics,<br />

was able to correctly assess <strong>Wittgenstein</strong>’s work in mathematics <strong>and</strong> its impact on his<br />

philosophy. In 1929 Ramsey wrote to G.E. Moore: “In my opinion Mr <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> is a<br />

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philosophical genius of a different order from anyone else I know. […] From his work<br />

more than that of any other man I hope for a solution of the difficulties that perplex me<br />

both in philosophy generally <strong>and</strong> in the foundation of mathematics in particular.“<br />

The investigation of the foundations of intellectual edifices – not only those of<br />

mathematics – is the hub of <strong>Wittgenstein</strong>’s work. His whole work shows an enormous<br />

<strong>and</strong> continuous effort to attain clarity <strong>and</strong> truth, <strong>and</strong> above all the separation of what is<br />

real from what is fantastic.<br />

In the preface to his first book, the Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus, in 1918,<br />

<strong>Wittgenstein</strong> writes that the philosophical problems that he is grappling with are<br />

largely the problems (<strong>and</strong> the expectations) of Russell <strong>and</strong> Whitehead in Principia<br />

Mathematica, <strong>and</strong> those of similar intellectual frameworks. He goes on to say that<br />

through his work he has resolved these problems, which in his opinion are caused by<br />

a misunderst<strong>and</strong>ing of the logic of language.<br />

Ich bin also der Meinung, die Probleme im Wesentlichen endgültig gelöst zu<br />

haben. Und wenn ich mich hierin nicht irre, so besteht nun der Wert dieser<br />

Arbeit zweitens darin, daß sie zeigt, wie wenig damit getan ist, daß diese<br />

Probleme gelöst sind.<br />

I am, therefore, of the opinion that the problems have in essential been finally<br />

solved. And if I am not mistaken in this, then the value of this work secondly<br />

consists in the fact that it shows how little has been done when these problems<br />

have been solved.<br />

In the autumn of 1919 <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> advised Ludwig Ficker, whom he approached as<br />

a potential publisher of his book, „das Vorwort und den Schluß zu lesen, da diese den<br />

Sinn am unmittelbarsten zum Ausdruck bringen“. “to read the preface <strong>and</strong> the end<br />

since they express the meaning in the most immediate fashion“.<br />

The penultimate sentence of the Tractatus shows how <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> overcame, with<br />

the propositions of his book, the problems caused by misunderst<strong>and</strong>ing the logic of<br />

language:<br />

Meine Sätze erläutern dadurch, daß sie der, welcher mich versteht, am Ende als<br />

unsinnig erkennt, wenn er durch sie – auf ihnen – über sie hinausgestiegen ist.<br />

(Er muß sozusagen die Leiter wegwerfen, nachdem er auf ihr hinaufgestiegen<br />

ist.)<br />

Er muß diese Sätze überwinden, dann sieht er die Welt richtig.<br />

My propositions are elucidatory in this way: he who underst<strong>and</strong>s me finally<br />

recognizes them as senseless [in the sense of direction or use], when he has<br />

climbed out through them, on them, over them. (He must so to speak throw<br />

away the ladder, after he has climbed up on it.)<br />

He must surmount these propositions; then he sees the world rightly.<br />

After completing his Tractatus, <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> was convinced to have exhausted his<br />

capacity for philosophy — he was looking for a new vocation. After the Great War<br />

he remained in Austria for ten years, working as a gardener, <strong>and</strong>, for six years, as a<br />

primary school teacher, later as an architect, building a house for his sister Margarete<br />

Stonborough. However, on his return to philosophy in 1927 <strong>and</strong> to <strong>Cambridge</strong> 1929,<br />

he resumed the central idea of hisTractatus in the second manuscript volume of his<br />

‘Philosophical Remarks’:<br />

Warum ist die Philosophie so kompliziert? Sie sollte doch ganz einfach sein?<br />

Die Philosophie löst Knoten in unserem Denken auf die wir unsinnigerweise<br />

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hinein gemacht haben; dazu muß sie aber ebenso komplizierte Bewegungen<br />

machen wie diese Knoten sind. Obwohl also das Resultat der Philosophie<br />

einfach ist kann es nicht ihre Methode sein dazu zu gelangen. In der<br />

Wissenschaft ist ein Resultat so einfach oder so kompliziert wie die Methode<br />

durch die wir dazu gelangen. Die Kompliziertheit der Philosophie ist nicht die<br />

ihrer Materie sondern die unseres verknoteten Verst<strong>and</strong>es.<br />

Why is philosophy so complicated? It ought to be entirely simple. Philosophy<br />

unties the knots in our thinking that we have, stupidly, put there. To do this it<br />

must make movements that are just as complicated as these knots. Although<br />

the result of philosophy is simple, its method cannot be simple if it is to succeed.<br />

The complexity of philosophy is not a complexity of its subject matter, but of<br />

our knotted mind.<br />

In the following year, in a draft preface for a publication of his current thoughts,<br />

he described his striving for clarity, <strong>and</strong> the significance of his investigations of the<br />

foundations, that is to say, on the foundations of the intellectual structures of our time:<br />

Unsere Zivilisation ist durch das Wort Fortschritt charakterisiert. Der Fortschritt<br />

ist ihre Form, nicht eine ihrer Eigenschaften daß sie fortschreitet. Sie ist<br />

typisch aufbauend. Ihre Tätigkeit ist es ein immer komplizierteres Gebilde zu<br />

konstruieren. Und auch die Klarheit dient doch nur wieder diesem Zweck und<br />

ist nicht Selbstzweck.<br />

Mir dagegen ist die Klarheit die Durchsichtigkeit Selbstzweck.<br />

Es interessiert mich nicht ein Gebäude aufzuführen, sondern die<br />

Grundlagen der möglichen Gebäude durchsichtig vor mir zu haben.<br />

Mein Ziel ist also ein <strong>and</strong>eres als das der Wissenschaftler und meine<br />

Denkbewegung von der ihrigen verschieden.<br />

Our civilization is characterized by the word progress. Progress is its form,<br />

not one of the properties that allow it to make progress. Typically, it builds. Its<br />

activity is to build a more <strong>and</strong> more complex structure. And clarity, again, is only<br />

a means to this end <strong>and</strong> not an end in itself.<br />

For me however, clarity <strong>and</strong> transparency, are ends in themselves.<br />

I am not interested in erecting a building but in having the foundations of<br />

possible buildings transparently before me.<br />

So my aim is different from that of the scientists <strong>and</strong> my thoughts move<br />

differently from theirs.<br />

<strong>Wittgenstein</strong>’s last manuscript entry, made two days before his death, on the 27 th of<br />

April 1951, <strong>and</strong> just before losing consciousness, refers to the distinction between the<br />

real <strong>and</strong> the fantastic, be it in the form of belief <strong>and</strong> superstition, or education <strong>and</strong><br />

misinformation.<br />

Wenn Einer glaubt, vor wenigen Tagen von Amerika nach Engl<strong>and</strong> geflogen zu<br />

sein, so glaube ich, daß er sich darin nicht irren kann.<br />

Ebenso, wenn Einer sagt, er sitze jetzt am Tisch und schreibe.<br />

„Aber wenn ich mich auch in solchen Fällen nicht irren kann, – ist<br />

es nicht möglich, daß ich in der Narkose bin?“ Wenn ich es bin und wenn<br />

die Narkose mir das Bewußtsein raubt, dann rede und denke ich jetzt nicht<br />

wirklich. Ich kann nicht im Ernst annehmen ich träume jetzt. Wer träumend sagt<br />

„Ich träume“, auch wenn er dabei hörbar redete, hat so wenig recht, wie wenn<br />

er im Traum sagt „Es regnet“, während es tatsächlich regnet. Auch wenn sein<br />

Traum wirklich mit dem Geräusch des Regens zusammenhängt.<br />

If someone believes he flew from America to Engl<strong>and</strong> a few days ago, then, I<br />

believe, he cannot be making a mistake.<br />

Just as someone who says that he is at this moment sitting at a table,<br />

writing.<br />

9<br />

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“But even if in such cases I cannot be wrong, isn’t it possible that I<br />

am under anaesthesia?” If I am <strong>and</strong> if the anaesthesia has robbed me of my<br />

consciousness, than I am not now really talking <strong>and</strong> thinking. I cannot seriously<br />

assume that I am at this moment dreaming. The dreamer who says ”I am<br />

dreaming”, even if he speaks audibly, is no more right than if he said in his<br />

dream “it is raining”, while it was in fact raining. Even if his dream were actually<br />

connected with the noise of the rain.<br />

<strong>Wittgenstein</strong>’s philosophical method<br />

In November 1931, in his eighth manuscript volume ‘Bemerkungen zur<br />

philosophischen Grammatik’, <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> contrasts his philosophical method with<br />

the intellectual habits <strong>and</strong> with thinkers of his time, in particular in contrast to his<br />

friend Frank Ramsey, who had died, aged 26, in January 1930:<br />

Ramsey war ein bürgerlicher Denker. D.h. seine Gedanken hatten den Zweck<br />

die Dinge in einer gegebenen Gemeinde zu ordnen. Er dachte nicht über das<br />

Wesen des Staates nach – oder doch nicht gerne – sondern darüber wie man<br />

diesen Staat vernünftig einrichten könne. Der Gedanke daß dieser Staat nicht<br />

der einzig mögliche sei beunruhigte ihn teils, teils langweilte er ihn. Er wollte<br />

so geschwind als möglich dahin kommen über die Grundlagen – dieses Staates<br />

nachzudenken. Hier lag seine Fähigkeit und sein eigentliches Interesse; während<br />

die eigentlich(e) philosophische Überlegung ihn beunruhigte bis er ihr Resultat<br />

(wenn sie ein’s hatte) als trivial zur Seite schob.<br />

Ramsey was a bourgeois thinker, i.e. his thinking aimed at clearing up things in<br />

some particular community. He did not reflect on the very nature of the state<br />

– or at least he did not like doing so – but on how this state might reasonably<br />

be organized. The idea that this state might not be the only possible one partly<br />

unsettled <strong>and</strong> partly bored him. He wanted to get down as quickly as possible to<br />

reflecting on the foundations – of this state. This was what he was good at <strong>and</strong><br />

what really interested him; whereas real philosophical reflection unsettled him<br />

until he put its result (if it had one) on one side as trivial.<br />

Die Unruhe in der Philosophie entsteht dadurch/kommt daher/, daß die<br />

Philosophen die Philosophie falsch ansehen, oder falsch sehen, nämlich<br />

gleichsam in (unendliche) Längsstreifen zerlegt statt in (endliche) Querstreifen.<br />

Diese Umstellung der Auffassung macht die größte Schwierigkeit. Sie wollen also<br />

gleichsam den Unendlichen Streifen erfassen und klagen daß es/dies/ nicht Stück<br />

für Stück möglich ist. Freilich nicht wenn man unter einem Stück einen endlosen<br />

Längsstreifen versteht. Wohl aber wenn man einen Quersteifen als Stück/ganzes<br />

definitives Stück/ sieht. — Aber dann kommen wir ja mit unserer Aufgabe/<br />

Arbeit/ nie zu Ende! Gewiß/Freilich/ nicht, denn sie hat ja auch keins.<br />

The disquiet in philosophy arises/comes about because philosophers view or<br />

see philosophy in the wrong way, as if it were dissected into (infinite)longitudinal<br />

strips rather than into (finite) cross-sections. This change of perception causes<br />

the greatest difficulties. They want to grab the infinite strip <strong>and</strong> then lament the<br />

fact that this cannot be done piece by piece. It is indeed impossible, if one thinks<br />

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of a piece as an infinite longitudinal strip, but possible if a cross-section is seen as<br />

a piece/a complete, definitive piece. — But then we never come to an end with<br />

our task. Quite so, since there is no end to it.<br />

Der Philosoph ist nicht Bürger einer Denkgemeinde. Das ist, was ihn zum<br />

Philosophen macht.<br />

The philosopher is not a citizen of any community of ideas. That is what makes<br />

him a philosopher.<br />

In that same year, in a draft for a lecture, he explains to his students the significance of<br />

his philosophy for science: how to ask the right questions, that is the right way to look<br />

at philosophical problems, <strong>and</strong> how to dissolve the knots in our language <strong>and</strong> in our<br />

thinking:<br />

What I should like to get you to do is not to agree with me in particular opinions<br />

but to investigate the matter in the right way. To notice the interesting kind of<br />

things (i.e. the things which will serve as keys if you use them properly).<br />

What different people expect to get from religion is what they expect to<br />

get from philosophy.<br />

I don’t want to give you a Definition of Philosophy but I should like you<br />

to have a very lively idea as to the characters of philosophical problems. If you<br />

had, by the way, I could stop/start/ lecturing at once.<br />

To tackle the philosophical problem is difficult as we are caught in the<br />

meshes of language. „Has the universe an end/beginning/ in Time“ (Einstein)<br />

You would perhaps give up Philosophy if you knew what it is. You want<br />

explanations instead of wanting descriptions. And you are therefore looking for<br />

the wrong kind of thing. Philosophical questions, as soon as you boil them down<br />

to . . . . change their aspect entirely. What evaporates is what the intellect cannot<br />

tackle.<br />

<strong>Wittgenstein</strong> <strong>and</strong> science<br />

<strong>Wittgenstein</strong>’s critique of modern science becomes particularly clear after the dropping<br />

of the atom bombs on Hiroshima <strong>and</strong> Nagasaki on the 6 th <strong>and</strong> on the 9 th of August<br />

1945. In fact, it is quite similar to that of Bertolt Brecht.<br />

On the occasion of the second performance of his historical drama “The Life of<br />

Galileo“, on the 30 th of July 1947 in Beverly Hills, Brecht extends the moral argument of<br />

his didactic play by accusing Galileo of the betrayal of science: „G gab den eigentlichen<br />

Fortschritt preis, als er widerrief, er ließ das Volk im Stich, die Astronomie wurde<br />

wieder ein Fach, Domäne der Gelehrten, unpolitisch, isoliert.“ “G ab<strong>and</strong>oned real<br />

progress when he retracted, he ab<strong>and</strong>oned the people, astronomy became a discipline<br />

again, a domain of the academics – apolitical, isolated.“ That is, Galilei relegated science<br />

from a means for everyone to underst<strong>and</strong> the world better <strong>and</strong> – with it – themselves,<br />

back into a domain for specialists. And it is only in the context of specialization that a<br />

development such as that of the atom bomb was possible; the world <strong>and</strong> everything<br />

that exists on it does not need it. When Albert Einstein, whom Brecht deeply<br />

13<br />

14<br />

15


espected, warned that the atom bomb must not be released to other powers, least of all<br />

to Russia, Brecht’s comment was: „Das brilliante Fachgehirn, eingesetzt in einen schlechten<br />

Violinspieler und ewigen Gymnasiasten mit einer Schwäche für Generalisierungen in der<br />

Politik.“ “A brilliant expert’s brain inside a bad violin player <strong>and</strong> eternal grammar-school<br />

boy with a weakness for generalizations in politics.“<br />

<strong>Wittgenstein</strong>’s view is very similar. In a comment about Einstein <strong>and</strong> the scientists<br />

of his day he writes on the 1 st of August 1946:<br />

Je weniger sich Einer selbst kennt und versteht um so weniger groß ist er, wie groß<br />

auch sein Talent sein mag. Darum sind unsre Wissenschaftler nicht groß. Darum<br />

sind Freud, Spengler, Kraus, Einstein nicht groß.<br />

The less well someone knows <strong>and</strong> underst<strong>and</strong>s himself the less great he is,<br />

however great his talent. For this reason our scientists are not great. For this<br />

reason Freud, Spengler, Kraus, Einstein are not great.<br />

But the atom bomb represented for <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> also a ray of hope. The hope, that its<br />

very existence, not its use, might herald the end of a science perverted by its specialization<br />

<strong>and</strong> its association with industry. This is how he describes it on the 19 th of August 1946:<br />

Die hysterische Angst, die die Öffentlichkeit jetzt vor der Atom-Bombe hat, oder<br />

doch ausdrückt, ist beinahe ein Zeichen, daß hier einmal wirklich eine heilsame<br />

Erfindung gemacht worden ist. Wenigstens macht die Furcht den Eindruck der,<br />

vor einer wirklich wirksamen bitteren Medizin. Ich kann mich des Gedanken<br />

nicht erwehren: wenn hier nicht etwas Gutes vorläge, würden die Philister kein<br />

Geschrei anheben. Aber vielleicht ist auch das ein kindischer Gedanke. Denn,<br />

was ich meinen kann, ist doch nur, daß die Bombe das Ende, die Zerstörung eines<br />

gräßlichen Übels, der ekelhaften, seifenwässrigen Wissenschaft, in Aussicht stellt.<br />

Und das ist freilich kein unangenehmer Gedanke; aber wer sagt, was auf eine<br />

solche Zerstörung folgen würde? Die Leute, die heute gegen die Erzeugung der<br />

Bombe reden, sind freilich der Auswurf der Intelligenz, aber auch das beweist<br />

nicht unbedingt, daß das zu preisen ist, was sie verabscheuen.<br />

The hysterical fear of the atom bomb the public now has, or at least expresses,<br />

is almost a sign that here, for once, a really salutary discovery has been made.<br />

At least the fear gives the impression of being fear in the face of a really<br />

effective bitter medicine. I cannot rid myself of the thought that, if there were<br />

not something good here, the philistines would not be making an outcry. But<br />

perhaps this too is a childish idea. For all I can mean really is that the bomb<br />

creates a prospect of the end, the destruction of a ghastly evil, the disgusting dishwater<br />

science <strong>and</strong> certainly that is not an unpleasant thought; but who is to say<br />

what would follow such destruction? The people now making speeches against<br />

producing the bomb are undoubtedly the dregs of the intelligentsia, but even that<br />

does not prove beyond question that what they abominate is to be praised.<br />

However, twelve months later, he has given up this hope, realizing that the kind of science<br />

that he so detests has associated itself ever closer with industry – a development that has<br />

not only persisted into the present time, but has gained speed. On the 14 th of July 1947 he<br />

writes:<br />

Es könnte sein, daß die Wissenschaft und Industrie, und ihr Fortschritt, das<br />

Bleibendste der heutigen Welt ist. Daß jede Mutmaßung eines Zusammenbruchs<br />

16<br />

17<br />

18<br />

19


der Wissenschaft und Industrie einstweilen, und auf lange Zeit, ein bloßer Traum<br />

sei/ist/, und Wissenschaft und Industrie noch und mit unendlichem Jammer die<br />

Welt einigen werden, ich meine, sie zu einem Reich zusammenfassen werden, in<br />

dem/welchem/ dann freilich alles eher als der Friede wohnen wird.<br />

Denn die Wissenschaft und Industrie entscheiden doch die Kriege, oder so<br />

scheint es.<br />

It may be that science <strong>and</strong> industry, <strong>and</strong> their progress, are the most enduring thing<br />

in the world today. That any conjecture of a collapse of science <strong>and</strong> industry for<br />

now <strong>and</strong> for a long time to come, is simply a dream, <strong>and</strong> that science <strong>and</strong> industry<br />

will unite the world causing infinite misery, merging it into one single realm, in which<br />

however anything but peace will reign.<br />

For it is science <strong>and</strong> industry that decide wars, or so it seems.<br />

In the meantime, however, industry <strong>and</strong> politics have “appeased“ us: They have made<br />

us believe that the atom bomb is, after all, a good thing that has granted us more than<br />

50 years of peace; that without nuclear power, the earth would warm up even more<br />

quickly <strong>and</strong> a large part of the inhabited world would be submerged under water; <strong>and</strong><br />

that without the further development of the neurotoxins, invented during the wars to<br />

kill people, into so-called agrochemicals, a large part of humanity would be starving,<br />

etc. etc.<br />

<strong>Wittgenstein</strong> believes, like Lessing, that science needs to re-define itself: It must<br />

free itself from the orthodox primer, from orthodox elementary thinking, where, as<br />

Lessing writes, the enforcement of rules <strong>and</strong> laws is ensured by penalties <strong>and</strong> rewards,<br />

where questions about the rules are not allowed. Results achieved by this method are<br />

either correct or wrong. They are free from ethical or moral “ballast”. If this opens up<br />

possibilities that cause conflicts with our world (like when Edward Teller argued that his<br />

hydrogen bomb was merely the result of a strict application of the laws of nature) society<br />

steps in with orders <strong>and</strong> interdictions. A science, on the other h<strong>and</strong>, that acts responsibly<br />

is not in need of an “ethics commission” that keeps it in check. Moral <strong>and</strong> ethical criteria<br />

have to derive directly from science itself, only that way will they be effective. Remarks 107,<br />

108 <strong>and</strong> 116 of the Philosophical Investigations explain how we, <strong>and</strong> science, need to change<br />

our way of looking at the world:<br />

Je genauer wir die tatsächliche Sprache betrachten, desto stärker wird der<br />

Widerstreit zwischen ihr und unserer Forderung. (Die Kristallreinheit der Logik<br />

[das Ideal einer Orthodoxie] hatte sich mir ja nicht ergeben; sondern sie war eine<br />

Forderung.)<br />

The more narrowly we view actual language, the sharper becomes the conflict<br />

between it <strong>and</strong> our requirement. (For crytalline purity of logic [the ideal of an<br />

orthodoxy] was, of course, not a result of investigation: it was a requirement.)<br />

Das Vorurteil der Kristallreinheit kann nur so beseitigt werden, daß wir unsere<br />

ganze Betrachtung drehen. (Man könnte sagen: Die Betrachtung muß gedreht<br />

werden, aber um unser eigentliches Bedürfnis als Angelpunkt.)<br />

The prejudice of crystalline clarity can only be removed by turning our whole view<br />

round. (One might say: the view must be rotated, but on the pivot of our actual<br />

need.)<br />

Wenn die Philosophen ein Wort gebrauchen – „Wissen“, „sein“, „Gegenst<strong>and</strong>“,<br />

„ich“, „Satz“, „Name“ – und das Wesen des Dings zu erfassen trachten, muß man<br />

20<br />

21<br />

22


sich immer fragen: Wird denn dieses Wort in der Sprache, in der es seine<br />

Heimat hat, je so gebraucht? —<br />

Wir führen die Wörter von ihrer metaphysischen, wieder auf ihre<br />

alltägliche Verwendung zurück.<br />

When philosophers use a word – “knowledge”, “being”, “object”, “I”,<br />

“proposition”, “name” – <strong>and</strong> try to grasp the essence of the thing, one must<br />

always ask oneself: is the word ever actually used in this way in the language in<br />

which it has its home? —<br />

We take words back from their metaphysical to their everyday use.<br />

When speaking of “our need” <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> does not mean the needs of stakeholders,<br />

of industry, of specialists, of politicians, but the needs of the world in general, <strong>and</strong> of<br />

everything that exists on it, not of mankind in particular.<br />

During the Great War, on the 2 nd of September 1916, while serving as a soldier at<br />

the front in Galicia, <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> described how he sees the significance <strong>and</strong> the role<br />

of man in the world:<br />

Das philosophische Ich ist nicht der Mensch, nicht der Menschliche Körper oder<br />

die Menschliche Seele mit den Psychologischen Eigenschaften, sondern das<br />

Metaphysische Subjekt, die Grenze (nicht ein Teil) der Welt. Der Menschliche<br />

Körper aber, mein Körper insbesondere, ist ein Teil der Welt unter <strong>and</strong>eren Teilen<br />

der Welt, unter Tieren, Pflanzen, Steinen etc. etc.<br />

Wer das einsieht, wird seinem Körper oder dem Menschlichen Körper nicht<br />

eine bevorzugte Stelle in der Welt einräumen wollen.<br />

Er wird Menschen und Tiere ganz naiv als ähnliche und zusammengehörige<br />

Dinge betrachten.<br />

The philosophical I is not the human being, not the human body or the human soul<br />

with its psychological properties, but the metaphysical subject, the boundary (not a<br />

part) of the world. The human body, however, my body in particular, is part of the<br />

world among others, among animals, plants, stones etc., etc.<br />

Those who realize this will not want to assign to their own or the human body<br />

in general a privileged place in the world.<br />

They will regard humans <strong>and</strong> animals quite naïvely as similar objects that belong<br />

together.<br />

23


References<br />

1 Gotthold Ephraim Lessing Die Erziehung des Menschengeschlechts, Werke, Bd 7,<br />

Theologiekritische Schriften I und II, München 1970 ff., Paragraph 53, p. 488.<br />

2 WA5.23.1 Wiener Ausgabe (Vienna Edition), Wien – New York 1993 ff.:<br />

(quoted as: WAVolume.Page.Remark)<br />

3 WA5.123.3<br />

4 G.E. Moore Philosophical Papers, London 1951, p. 254<br />

5 <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> Logisch-Philosophische Abh<strong>and</strong>lung, London 1922, p. 28<br />

6 <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> Briefe an Ludwig von Ficker, Salzburg, p. 97<br />

7 <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> Logisch Philosophische Abh<strong>and</strong>lung, London 1922, p. 188<br />

8 WA1.157.6<br />

9 WA3.112.2<br />

10 <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> Über Gewißheit, Frankfurt 1984, paragraph 675 f.<br />

11 WA4.172.7<br />

12 WA4.163.6<br />

13 WA4.173.7<br />

14 WA3.VII<br />

15 Bertold Brecht, Leben des Gallei (1955/56), Stücke 5, Frankfurt 1988, p. 342<br />

16 ibid. p. 346<br />

17 <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> Culture <strong>and</strong> Value, Oxford 1998, p. 516<br />

18 ibid. p. 518-519<br />

19 ibid. p. 538-539<br />

20 <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> Philosophische Untersuchungen, Frankfurt 1963, paragraph 107<br />

21 ibid. section 108<br />

22 ibid. section 116<br />

23 <strong>Wittgenstein</strong> Tagebücher, Frankfurt 1984, p. 177


<strong>Wittgenstein</strong>’s composite photograph, based on<br />

Galton’s composite-photography. <strong>Wittgenstein</strong><br />

made this experiment in the 1920s with the help of<br />

his friend, the photographer Moritz Nähr. It shows<br />

how <strong>Wittgenstein</strong>’s practical work is connected to<br />

his philosophy, <strong>and</strong> further, that during his time as a<br />

schoolmaster, gardener <strong>and</strong> architect, <strong>Wittgenstein</strong><br />

was indeed concerned with philosophy.<br />

Lecture on Ethics, given to the <strong>Cambridge</strong> Heretics<br />

17 November 1929<br />

My subject, as you know, is Ethics <strong>and</strong> I will adopt<br />

the explanation of that term which Professor Moore<br />

has given in his book Principia Ethica. He says:<br />

“Ethics is the general enquiry into what is good”.<br />

Now I am going to use the term Ethics in a slightly<br />

wider sense, in a sense in fact which includes what<br />

I believe to be the most essential part of what is<br />

generally called Aesthetics. And to make you see<br />

as clearly as possible what I take to be the subject<br />

matter of Ethics I will put before you a number of<br />

more or less synonymous expressions each of which<br />

could be substituted for the above definition, <strong>and</strong><br />

by enumerating them I want to produce the same<br />

sort of effect which Galton produced when he took<br />

a number of photos of different faces on the same<br />

photographic plate in order to get the picture of the<br />

typical features they all had in common. And as by<br />

showing to you such a collective photo I could make<br />

you see what is the typical – say – Chinese face; so if<br />

you look through the row of synonyms which I will<br />

put before you, you will, I hope, be able to see the<br />

characteristic features they all have in common <strong>and</strong><br />

these are the characteristic features of Ethics.<br />

The composite photo marks the beginning of<br />

the development of the central terms of his<br />

Philosophical Investigations: “Spiel” (games)<br />

<strong>and</strong> “Familienähnlichkeit”, (family resemblance)<br />

66. Consider for example the proceedings that we<br />

call “games”. I mean board-games, card-games,<br />

ball-games, Olympic-games, <strong>and</strong> so on. What<br />

is common to them all? – Don’t say: “There<br />

must be something common, or they would not<br />

be called games” – but look <strong>and</strong> see whether<br />

there is anything common to all, but similarities,<br />

relationships, <strong>and</strong> a whole series of them at that.<br />

To repeat: don’t think, but look! — […]<br />

And the result of this examination is: we see a<br />

complicated network of similarities overlapping<br />

<strong>and</strong> criss-crossing: sometimes overall similarities,<br />

sometimes similarities in detail.<br />

67. I can think of no better expression to<br />

characterize these similarities than “family<br />

resemblances”; for the various resemblances<br />

between members of a family: build, features,<br />

colour of eyes, gait, temperament, etc. etc.<br />

overlap <strong>and</strong> criss-cross in the same way. – And<br />

I shall say: ‘games’ form a family.<br />

71. One might say that the concept ‘game’ is a<br />

concept with blurred edges. – “But is a blurred<br />

concept a concept at all?” – Is an indistinct<br />

photograph a picture of a person at all? Is it even<br />

always an advantage to replace an indistinct<br />

picture by a sharp one? Isn’t the indistinct one<br />

often exactly what we need?


Components of <strong>Wittgenstein</strong>‘s composite photo from his photo album (not exactly the ones used for the<br />

composite photo, but from the same series of portraits): <strong>Wittgenstein</strong>’s sisters Gretl <strong>and</strong> Hermine, below his<br />

sister Helene <strong>and</strong> Ludwig <strong>Wittgenstein</strong>. The components can be identified by the background, shown only<br />

in the photo of his sister Gretl <strong>and</strong> further by the necklaces <strong>and</strong> dresses of his sisters as well as by Ludwig<br />

<strong>Wittgenstein</strong>’s tweed jacket <strong>and</strong> his open collar.

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