Wittgenstein and Nietzsche (Routledge Studies in Twentieth-Century Philosophy) [1 ed.] 9781032100494, 9781032112503, 9781003219071, 1032100494

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Wittgenstein and Nietzsche

This volume brings together essays that explore the intersections between Nietzsche and Wittgenstein from various perspectives. While some chapters focus on the philological and biographical connections of Wittgenstein’s reading of Nietzsche, others reflect on the ideas that are implicitly shared by the two thinkers. For Nietzsche and Wittgenstein, philosophy is inextricably connected to ethics and the arts and therefore takes a peculiar method that differs from the sciences. Nevertheless, their thinking strives for knowledge and truth by means of discursive text forms, however unconventional they may be. The first group of chapters contextualize explicit references to Nietzsche in Wittgenstein’s writings and clarify their philosophical function. In Part II, the contributors take a philosophical problem as their starting point and show how it can be illuminated by comparing or contrasting Wittgensteinian and Nietzschean arguments and methods. Together the chapters trace Nietzsche’s influence on Wittgenstein’s thought concerning the critique of language, ethics, aesthetics, religion, and philosophical method. Wittgenstein and Nietzsche will be of interest to scholars and advanced students working in the history of philosophy and intellectual history. Shunichi Takagi is Researcher at Kyoto University and Chief Research ­Officer of AaaS Bridge. His PhD thesis, Wittgenstein and the ‘Kantian Solution of the Problem of Philosophy’ (10 February 1931), recounts ­ Wittgenstein’s philosophical development from the Tractatus up until ­ around 10 February 1931, focusing on his engagement with Russell, Kant, and Ramsey. Pascal F. Zambito is Postdoctoral Fellow at University of Munich. He was Feodor Lynen Fellow at University of Vienna. His recent publications are “Essayism as a Form of Writing and a Form of Life” (2021) and “Searching in Space vs Groping in the Dark: Wittgenstein on Novelty and Imagination in 1929–30” (2023).

Routledge Studies in Twentieth-Century Philosophy Heidegger’s Ecological Turn Community and Practice for Future Generations Frank Schalow Lectures on a Philosophy Less Ordinary Language and Morality in J.L. Austin’s Philosophy Niklas Forsberg Heidegger and the Contradiction of Being An Analytic Interpretation of the Late Heidegger Filippo Casati Camus and Fanon on the Algerian Question An Ethics of Rebellion Pedro Tabensky Wittgenstein’s Philosophy in 1929 Edited by Florian Franken Figueiredo Henri Bergson and the Philosophy of Religion God, Freedom, and Duration Matyáš Moravec Kripke and Wittgenstein The Standard Metre, Contingent Apriori and Beyond Edited by Martin Gustafsson, Oskari Kuusela, and Jakub Mácha Between Wittgenstein and Weil Comparisons in Philosophy, Religion, and Ethics Edited by Jack Manzi The Turing Test Argument Bernardo Gonçalves Wittgenstein and Nietzsche Edited by Shunichi Takagi and Pascal F. Zambito For more information about this series, please visit: https://www. routledge.com/Routledge-Studies-in-Twentieth-Century-Philosophy/ book-series/SE0438

Wittgenstein and Nietzsche Edited by Shunichi Takagi and Pascal F. Zambito

First published 2024 by Routledge 605 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10158 and by Routledge 4 Park Square, Milton Park, Abingdon, Oxon, OX14 4RN Routledge is an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, an informa business © 2024 selection and editorial matter, Shunichi Takagi and Pascal F. Zambito; individual chapters, the contributors The right of Shunichi Takagi and Pascal F. Zambito to be identified as the authors of the editorial material, and of the authors for their individual chapters, has been asserted in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reprinted or reproduced or utilised in any form or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publishers. Trademark notice: Product or corporate names may be trademarks or registered trademarks, and are used only for identification and explanation without intent to infringe. ISBN: 978-1-032-10049-4 (hbk) ISBN: 978-1-032-11250-3 (pbk) ISBN: 978-1-003-21907-1 (ebk) DOI: 10.4324/9781003219071 Typeset in Sabon SPi Technologies India Pvt Ltd (Straive)

Contents

Notes on Contributors List of Abbreviations

Introduction: Wittgenstein and Nietzsche

vii x

1

SHUNICHI TAKAGI AND PASCAL F. ZAMBITO

PART I

Influence: Wittgenstein reads Nietzsche

15

1 Wittgenstein Reads Nietzsche: The Roots of Tractarian Solipsism 17 NUNO VENTURINHA

2 Schlick, Wittgenstein, and Waismann: Three Responses to Nietzsche 47 ANDREAS VRAHIMIS

3 Philosophy as Work on Oneself: Wittgenstein, Nietzsche, and Paul Ernst

77

STEFAN MAJETSCHAK

4 Transvaluation and Rectification: Wittgenstein reads Nietzsche and Lichtenberg on Values, Poetry, and Language

95

MARCO BRUSOTTI

5 ‘jenseits der Grenze’: Wittgenstein and Nietzsche on Value and Nonsense PASCAL F. ZAMBITO

124

vi Contents 6 Wittgenstein, Nietzsche, and Future Philosophers: The Notion of Truth in Philosophy

147

OSKARI KUUSELA

PART II

Dialogues: Philosophical Intersections between Wittgenstein and Nietzsche

167

7 Philosophical Style: Between Philosophy, Poetry, and Aphoristic Writing

169

PHILIP MILLS

8 Wittgenstein and Nietzsche on Language and Knowledge

187

PIETRO GORI

9 A Nietzschean Critique of Wittgenstein’s Philosophical Quietism 209 PAUL S. LOEB

10 Overcoming Chagrin in Cavell and Nietzsche

238

GORDON C. F. BEARN

11 A Remark on “the Particular Peace” in Philosophy in Wittgenstein and Nietzsche

257

PETER K. WESTERGAARD

Index 278

Contributors

Gordon C. F. Bearn is Stewardson Professor and Chair of Philosophy at Lehigh University. He is the author of Waking to Wonder: Wittgenstein’s Existential Investigations (1997) and Life Drawing: A Deleuzean Aesthetics of Existence (2013). He has published articles on Nietzsche, Derrida, Foucault, Wittgenstein, and Cavell. Inspired by Deleuze's reading of Foucault's Archaeology of Knowledge, he is writing his way into a book to be called Inklings and Algebra. Marco Brusotti is Professor at the University of Salento (Lecce, Italy). He was Lecturer in Philosophy at the Technical University of Berlin. He is president of the Nietzsche-­Gesellschaft and member of the Advisory Board of the Friedrich-­Nietzsche-­Stiftung. He is also on the Editorial Board of the journals Nietzsche-­Studien and Nietzscheforschung, of the series Monographien und Texte zur Nietzsche-­Forschung and of the database Nietzsche Online (de Gruyter). He has published widely on ­Nietzsche and on Wittgenstein. Among his recent publications are: ‘The “Continuous Line from the Formulations of the Magicians to the Formulations of the Sociologists”’; ‘“For the Marxists are racing motorists.” Wittgenstein on Max Eastman and on “the sound idea in Marx’s thinking”’; “Nietzsche and the Good Europeans beyond Europe”; [with Michael J. McNeal, Corinna Schubert, Herman Siemens:] European/ Supra-­European: Cultural Encounters in Nietzsche’s Philosophy (2020). Pietro Gori is fellow researcher at the NOVA University Lisbon, where he is also in charge of the chairs of Philosophy of Science and Philosophy of Knowledge. His academic expertise focuses especially on Modern and Contemporary Philosophy; History and Philosophy of Science; Epistemology; and Philosophical Anthropology. Within this context, Gori deals more in particular with representatives of an anti-­ foundationalist turn in philosophy (e.g. Friedrich Nietzsche, Ernst Mach and William James), as well as with the post-­empiricist approach of the

viii Contributors British philosopher of science Mary B. Hesse. On these topics, Gori published monographic essays, edited collective volumes, and a number of book chapters as well as articles in peer-­reviewed international journals and series. Among his recent works: Nietzsche’s Pragmatism. A Study on Perspectival Thought (2019); Practices of Truth in Philosophy. Historical and Comparative Perspectives (co-­edited. Routledge, forthcoming). Oskari Kuusela is Associate Professor in Philosophy at the University of East Anglia, UK. He is the author of The Struggle against Dogmatism (2008), Wittgenstein on Logic as the Method of Philosophy (2019), and Wittgenstein on Logic and Philosophical Method: Elements in the Philosophy of Wittgenstein (2022), as well as the co-­editor of five collections on Wittgenstein, including the Oxford Handbook of Wittgenstein (2011). Paul S. Loeb is Emeritus Professor of Philosophy at University of Puget Sound and is currently teaching at Hawai‘i Pacific University. He is the author, editor, and translator of a number of books on Nietzsche, including The Death of Nietzsche’s Zarathustra (2010), Nietzsche’s Metaphilosophy (edited with Matthew Meyer) (2019), Unpublished Fragments from the Period of Thus Spoke Zarathustra, Vols. 14 and 15 (translated with David F. Tinsley) (2019, 2021), Dionysus Dithyrambs (translated with David F. Tinsley) (2021), and Nietzsche’s Thus Spoke Zarathustra: A Critical Guide (edited with Keith Ansell-­Pearson) (2022) Stefan Majetschak is Professor of Philosophy at the School of Art and Design and at the Department of Philosophy at the University of Kassel, Germany. Book publications: Die Logik des Absoluten. Spekulation und Zeitlichkeit in der Philosophie Hegels (1992); Ludwig Wittgensteins Denkweg (2000); Ästhetik zur Einführung (2007; 5th ed. 2019), Wittgenstein und die Folgen (2019). Until recently, he was president of the International Ludwig Wittgenstein Society and editor in chief of Wittgenstein-­ Studien. International Yearbook for Wittgenstein Research. Philip Mills is a Postdoctoral Fellow in French Literature at the University of Lausanne. His first book, A Poetic Philosophy of Language: Nietzsche and Wittgenstein’s Expressivism (2022), connects the philosophies of Nietzsche and Wittgenstein to elaborate a philosophy of language that can account for poetic phenomena. His current research approaches poetry within the framework of Ordinary Language Philosophy (Wittgenstein, Austin, Cavell) and analyses ordinary practices at play in contemporary French poetry.

Contributors  ix Nuno Venturinha is Associate Professor of Philosophy at the Nova University of Lisbon. He is the author of Description of Situations: An Essay in Contextualist Epistemology (2018), and the editor of The Textual Genesis of Wittgenstein’s Philosophical Investigations (Routledge 2013) and Wittgenstein After His Nachlass (2010). He is currently editing a topical collection on the epistemology of John Greco for Synthese and working on a manuscript on Wittgenstein on belief formation for Cambridge University Press. In addition, he has published in journals including Analysis, British Journal for the History of Philosophy, Journal of Philosophical Research, Logos & Episteme, Nordic Wittgenstein Review, Philosophia, Philosophical Investigations, Philosophy, The Philosophical Quarterly, Topoi and Wittgenstein-­Studien. Andreas Vrahimis is an Assistant Professor at the Department of Classics and Philosophy of the University of Cyprus. His research interests include the History of Analytic Philosophy and its dialogues with other contemporary philosophical traditions, as well as Aesthetics and the Philosophy of Art. Apart from Bergsonism and the History of Analytic Philosophy (2022), and several articles, he is the author of Encounters Between Analytic and Continental Philosophy (2013). Peter K. Westergaard is Associate Professor at the Department of Cross-­ cultural and Regional Studies, University of Copenhagen. His areas of research are the history of ideas and the philosophy of religion. Westergaard’s interests centre on the philosophy of Nietzsche and Wittgenstein. His publications include Mennesket er et ceremonielt dyr. Ludwig Wittgensteins Bemærkninger om Frazers ‘Den gyldne gren’ [Man is a ceremonial animal. Ludwig Wittgenstein’s Remarks on Frazer’s ‘The Golden Bough’] (Copenhagen, 2013); Kritik og tro. Hume, Kant, ­Nietzsche og Wittgenstein [Critique and Belief. Hume, Kant, Nietzsche and Wittgenstein] (Copenhagen, 2015); Nietzsche. “… hvis man altid går til grunden …”. En afslutning [Nietzsche. “… if one always faces ruin …” A conclusion] (Aalborg, 2018). He also translated, and wrote an introduction to Georges Bataille’s Nietzsche. Memorandum (Aarhus, 2022).

Abbreviations

Works by Wittgenstein and Derivative Texts APR

AWL BBB BNE

BT CC

CL CV

Wittgenstein: Lectures & Conversations on Aesthetics, Psychoanalysis and Religious Belief. Compiled from Notes taken by Yorick Smythies, Rush Rhees and James Taylor, ed. by Cyril Barret. Berkeley/Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1968. Wittgenstein’s Lectures: Cambridge, 1932–1935, ed. by Alice Ambrose, Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1979. The Blue and Brown Books. Preliminary Studies for the ‘Philosophical Investigations’, ed. by Rush Rhees, Oxford: Blackwell, 1965 [1958]. Bergen Nachlass Edition, ed. by the Wittgenstein Archives at the University of Bergen under the direction of Alois Pichler. In: Wittgenstein Source, curated by Alois Pichler (2009–) and Joseph Wang-­ Kathrein (2020–) [wittgensteinsource.org]. [Quoted by manuscript or typescript number following G.H. von Wright’s catalogue.] The Big Typescript: TS 213, ed. & tr. by C.G. Luckhardt and M.A.E. Aue, Oxford: Blackwell, 2005. Gesamtbriefwechsel: Innsbrucker elektronische Ausgabe [Complete Correspondence: The Innsbruck Electronic Edition], 2nd release. Edited by Anna Coda, Gabriel Citron, Barbara Halder, Allan Janik, Ulrich Lobis, Kerstin Mayr, Brian McGuinness, Michael Schorner, Monika Seekircher, and Joseph Wang on behalf of the Brenner Archive Research Institute. Charlottesville: InteLex Corporation, 2011. Cambridge Letters. Correspondence with Russell, Keynes, Moore, Ramsey and Sraffa, ed. by B.F. McGuinness and G.H. von Wright, Oxford/Cambridge: Blackwell, 1995. Culture and Value/Vermischte Bemerkungen, ed. by G.H. von Wright, tr. by Peter Winch, Oxford: Blackwell, 1980. Culture and Value/Vermischte Bemerkungen, ed. by G.H. von Wright, tr. by Peter Winch, revised second edition, Oxford: Blackwell, 1998.

Abbreviations  xi GT IDP

LE LS LWL LWW MN NB NL OC OR

PG PI

PPF PO

Geheime Tagebücher 1914–1916, 3rd edn, ed. by Wilhelm Baum, Vienna: Turia & Kant, 1992. Interactive Dynamic Presentation of Ludwig Wittgenstein’s philosophical Nachlass [http://wittgensteinonline.no/]. ed. by the Wittgenstein Archives at the University of Bergen under the direction of Alois Pichler, Bergen: Wittgenstein Archives at the University of Bergen, 2016–. A Lecture on Ethics, in PO, 37–44. Lecture on Ethics, ed. by Edoardo Zamuner, Ermelinda Valentina di Lascio and D. K. Lewy, Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell, 2014. Licht und Schatten. Ein nächtliches (Traum-­)Erlebnis und ein Brieffragment, ed. by Ilse Somavilla, Wien/ Innsbruck: Haymon, 2014. Wittgenstein’s Lectures: Cambridge, 1930–1932, ed. by Desmond Lee, Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1980. Werkausgabe, Frankfurt: Suhrkamp, 1985–1989 [Quoted by volume and page number] Wittgenstein: Lectures, Cambridge 1930–33. From the Notes of G.E. Moore, ed. by D. G. Stern, B. Rogers, and G. Citron, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016. Notebooks 1914–1916, 2nd edn, ed by G. H. von Wright and G. E. M. Anscombe, tr. by G. E. M. Anscombe, Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1979. “The Notes on Logic”, ed. by Michael Potter. In Michael Potter, Wittgenstein’s Notes on Logic, 276–95, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008. On Certainty, ed. by G.E.M. Anscombe and G.H. von Wright, tr. by Denis Paul and G.E.M. Anscombe, Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1969. ‘On Religion: Notes on Four Conversations With Wittgenstein’, Notes by Rush Rhees, ed. by D.Z. Philips, in Faith and Philosophy: Journal of the Society of Christian Philosophers, 2001, Vol. 18 (4), 409–415. Philosophical Grammar, ed. by Rush Rhees, tr. by Anthony Kenny, Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1974. Philosophical Investigations / Philosophische Untersuchungen, ed. by P.M.S. Hacker and Joachim Schulte, tr. by G.E.M. Anscombe, P.M.S. Hacker and Joachim Schulte, Chichester: WileyBlackwell, 2009. Philosophy of Psychology—A Fragment [previously known as ‘Part II’ of the Philosophical Investigations], in PI 2009, 182–243e. Philosophical Occasions 1912–1951, ed. by J.C. Klagge and Alfred Nordmann, Indianapolis/Cambridge: Gardners Books, 1993.

xii Abbreviations PPO PR PTLP

RFM ROC RR RSD RW SRLF TLP VW WA WC WCL

Public and Private Occasions, ed. by J.C. Klagge and Alfred Nordmann, Lanham: Rowman & Littlefield. 2003. Philosophical Remarks, ed. by R. Rhees, tr. by R. Hargreaves and R. White, Oxford: Blackwell, 1975. Prototractatus: An early version of Tractatus Logico-­ Philosophicus, 2nd edn, ed. by B.F. McGuinness, T. Nyberg, G.H. von Wright; tr. by D.F. Pears & B.F. McGuinness, London: Routledge, 1996. Remarks on the Foundations of Mathematics, 3rd revised edn, ed. by G.H. von Wright, Rush Rhees, and G.E.M. Anscombe, tr. by G.E.M. Anscombe, Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1978. Remarks on Colour / Bemerkungen über die Farben, ed. by G.E.M. Anscombe, tr. by Linda L. McAlister and Margarete Schättle, Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1977. ‘Wittgenstein’s Philosophical Conversations with Rush Rhees (1939-­50): From the Notes of Rush Rhees’, ed. by G. Citron, Mind, 2015, Vol. 124 (439), 1–71. ‘The Language of Sense Data and Private Experience’, in PO, 289-­367. Recollections of Wittgenstein, ed. by Rush Rhees, Oxford University Press 1984. ‘Some Remarks on Logical Form’, Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society, 1929, Supplementary Volume 9: 162–171. Tractatus Logico-­Philosophicus, ed. by C.K. Ogden, tr. by C.K. Ogden and F.P. Ramsey, London: Kegan Paul, Trench, Trubner & Co. 1922. Tractatus Logico-­Philosophicus, tr. by D.F. Pears and B.F. McGuinness, London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1961. Tractatus Logico-­Philosophicus: Centenary Edition. Ed. by Luciano Bazzocchi, tr. by B. F. McGuinness and D. F. Pears, London: Anthem Press, 2021. The Voices of Wittgenstein. The Vienna Circle, ed. by Gordon Baker, tr. by Gordon Baker, Michael Mackert, John Connolly and Vasilis Politis, London/New York: Routledge, 2003. Wiener Ausgabe, ed. by M. Nedo, Wien: Springer-­Verlag, 1994– 2001; Klostermann 2020-­[Quoted by volume and page number]. Wittgenstein in Cambridge: Letters and Documents 1911–1951. Ed. by Brian McGuinness. Oxford: Blackwell, 2008. Whewell’s Court Lectures: Cambridge, 1938–1941. From the Notes by Yorick Smythies, ed. by Volker A. Munz and Bernhard Ritter, Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell, 2017.

Abbreviations  xiii WLPP Wittgenstein’s Lectures on Philosophical Psychology 1946–1947. Notes by T. Geach, K.J. Shah, A.C. Jackson, ed. by T. Geach, New York/London: Harvester-­Wheatsheaf, 1988. WVC Ludwig Wittgenstein and the Vienna Circle. Conversations ­recorded by Friedrich Waismann, ed. by B.F. McGuinness, tr. by J. Schulte & B.F. McGuinness, Oxford: Blackwell, 1979. Z Zettel, ed. by G.E.M. Anscombe and G.H. von Wright, tr. by G.E.M. Anscombe, Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1967. Works by Nietzsche

A

BGE BoT D EH

‘The Anti-­Christ: A Curse on Christianity’, tr. by Judith Norman, in The Anti-­ Christ, Ecce Homo, Twilight of the Idols, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005, 1–68. ‘The Antichrist: Curse upon Christianity’, tr. by Carol Diethe and Adrian del Caro, in The Case of Wagner, Twilight of the Idols, The Antichrist, Ecce Homo, Dionysus Dithyrambs, Nietzsche Contra Wagner, vol 9, Complete Works of Nietzsche, Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2021, 134–211. Beyond Good and Evil. Prelude to a Philosophy of the Future, tr. by Marion Faber, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998. Beyond Good and Evil. Prelude to a Philosophy of the Future, ed. by R.P. Horstmann and Judith Norman, tr. by Judith Norman, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001. ‘Beyond Good and Evil’, tr. by Adrian del Caro, in Beyond Good and Evil. On the Genealogy of Morality, Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2014. ‘The Birth of Tragedy’, tr. by Ronald Speirs, in The Birth of Tragedy and Other Writings, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999, 1–116. The Birth of Tragedy, tr. by Douglas Smith, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2008. Daybreak, tr. by R.W. Hollingdale, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997 [1982]. ‘Ecce Homo’, tr. by Aaron Ridley and Judith Norman, in The Anti-­Christ, Ecce Homo, Twilight of the Idols, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005, 69–152. Ecce Homo. How To Become What You Are, tr. by Duncan Large, Oxford/New York: Oxford University Press, 2007. ‘Ecce Homo’, tr. by Carol Diethe, Duncan Large, Adrian del Caro and Alan D. Schrift, in The Case of Wagner, Twilight of the Idols, The Antichrist, Ecce Homo, Dionysus Dithyrambs, Nietzsche

xiv Abbreviations

GM GS

HH JGB KSA KSB PT TI

Contra Wagner, vol 9, Complete Works of Nietzsche, Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2021, 212–318. On the Genealogy of Morals, tr. by Douglas Smith, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1996. On the Genealogy of Morality, tr. by Carol Diethe, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2017 [2006]. ‘On the Genealogy of Morality’, tr. by Adrian del Caro, in Beyond Good and Evil. On the Genealogy of Morality, Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2014. The Gay Science: With a Prelude in Rhymes and an Appendix of Songs. tr. by Walter Kaufmann, New York: Vintage Books, 1974. The Gay Science. With a Prelude in German Rhymes and an Appendix of Songs, tr. by Josefine Nauckhoff and Adrian Del Caro, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press 2001. ‘The Joyful Science’, tr. by Adrian del Caro, in The Joyful Science/ Idylls from Messina/Unpublished Fragments from the Period of The Joyful Science (Spring 1881–Summer 1882), Stanford: Stanford University Press 2023. Human, All Too Human. A Book for Free Spirits, tr. by R.J. Hollingdale, Cambridge: Cambridge University, Press, 1996 [1987]. Human, All Too Human. A Book for Free Spirits, tr. by Gary Handwerk, Stanford: Stanford University, Press, 2013. Jenseits von Gut und Böse, in Nietzsches Werke, Taschen-­ Ausgabe, Band VIII: Jenseits von Gut und Böse, Zur Genealogie der Moral, Aus dem Nachlaß 1885/86, Leipzig: Kröner, 1905. Sämtliche Werke. Kritische Studienausgabe in 15 Bänden, ed. by Giorgio Colli and Mazzino Montinari, Berlin/New York: Walter de Gruyter, 1988. Sämtliche Briefe. Kritische Studienausgabe, ed. by Giorgio Colli and Mazzino Montinari, Berlin/New York: de Gruyter, 1986. Philosophy and Truth: Selections from Nietzsche’s Notebooks of the Early 1870s, tr. by D. Breazeale, New Jersey: Humanities Press International, 1990 [1979]. ‘Twilight of the Idols’, tr. by W. Kaufmann, in The Portable Nietzsche, ed. and tr. by W. Kaufmann, Middlesex: Penguin Books, 1982, 463–563. Twilight of the Idols, tr. by Duncan Large, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1998. Twilight of the Idols, tr. by Judith Norman in The Anti-­Christ, Ecce Homo, Twilight of the Idols, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005, 152–230.

Abbreviations  xv

TL TSZ UM WP WS

‘Twilight of the Idols’, tr. by Carol Diethe, Duncan Large, Adrian del Caro and Alan D. Schrift, in The Case of Wagner, Twilight of the Idols, The Antichrist, Ecce Homo, Dionysus Dithyrambs, ­Nietzsche Contra Wagner, vol 9, Complete Works of Nietzsche, Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2021, 43–132. ‘On the Truth and Lies in a Nonmoral Sense’, in PT, 79–100. ‘On Truth and Lie in a Non-­Moral Sense’, in The Birth of Tragedy and Other Writings, tr. Ronald Speirs, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999, 139–154. Thus Spoke Zarathustra, tr. by W. Kaufmann, New York: Penguin, 1978. ‘Thus Spoke Zarathustra’, tr. by W. Kaufmann, in The Portable Nietzsche, ed. and tr. by W. Kaufmann, Middlesex: Penguin Books, 1982, 103-­439. Thus Spoke Zarathustra, tr. by Graham Parkes, New York: ­Oxford University Press. 2005 Thus Spoke Zarathustra, A Book for All and None, tr. by Adrian del Caro, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006 Untimely Meditations, tr. by R. J. Hollingdale, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997. The Will To Power, ed. W. Kaufmann, tr. W. Kaufmann & R.J. Hollingdale, New York: Vintage Books, 1968. The Wanderer and his Shadow, in HH

Other abbreviated works

Wittgenstein, Hermine: “Ludwig sagt…”: Die Aufzeichnungen der Hermine Wittgenstein. Ed. by Mathias Iven, Berlin: Parerga, 2006. CPR Kant, Immanuel: Critique of Pure Reason, tr. by Norman Kemp Smith, with an intr. by Howard Caygill, revised second edition, Basingstoke/New York: Palgrave Macmillan 2007. LP Pinsent, David Hume: “Letters”. In A Portrait of Wittgenstein as a Young Man: From the Diary of David Hume Pinsent 1912– 1914. ed. by G. H. von Wright, 95–112, Oxford: Blackwell, 1990. TLH Hänsel, Ludwig: Begegnungen mit Wittgenstein – Ludwig Hänsels Tagebücher 1918/1919 and 1921/1922, ed. by Ilse Somavilla, Innsbruck/Wien: Haymon 2012. WWR Schopenhauer, Arthur: The World as Will and Representation, 2 vols., tr. by E. F. J. Payne, New York: Dover Publications, 1969. AHW

Introduction Wittgenstein and Nietzsche Shunichi Takagi and Pascal F. Zambito

Introduction This volume collects essays on intersections between Ludwig Wittgenstein and Friedrich Nietzsche. As many of these intersections concern questions of influence, the direction of research is, so to speak, backwards: from Wittgenstein to Nietzsche – hence the non-chronological order of names. The first of the book’s two parts will deal with such, broadly speaking, historical issues: its chapters contextualise explicit references to Nietzsche in Wittgenstein’s writings and reflect on their philosophical implications. The second part will explore more systematic intersections between the two thinkers: its chapters bring Nietzsche and Wittgenstein into philosophical dialogues exploring styles, methods and topics in comparison and contrast. Both thinkers have interpreted the task of philosophy in peculiar ways. Although they reacted to the tradition and have themselves become very influential, they stand out from the history of philosophy and cannot easily be grouped to any intellectual school. The peculiarity of their thought is a similarity between them, but it also exacerbates a widespread objection to comparative studies in philosophy: It has been called a triviality that any two things can be called similar in some respect. According to this view, comparisons in the history of philosophy tend to overemphasise contingent resemblances and to construe patterns of intellectual influence or heritage without properly motivating them and often neglecting important differences.1 In his typical polemical manner, Nietzsche has advanced a version of this criticism: ‘He who wants to mediate between two resolute thinkers shows that he is mediocre: he has no eye for what is unique; seeing things as similar and making things the same is the sign of weak eyes’ (GS 2001, §2282). Since Nietzsche’s own philosophy is so idiosyncratic, a similar objection might be made against the attempt to bring it together with Wittgenstein’s work. Let us therefore dwell a bit on Nietzsche’s aphorism and address its implicit reproach. Thus, we shall give reasons why a

DOI: 10.4324/9781003219071-1

2  Shunichi Takagi and Pascal F. Zambito comparison between these two arguably resolute thinkers is not only legitimate, but even fruitful both in historical and philosophical terms. Like many aphorisms, Nietzsche’s saying expresses a profound but onesided insight which, despite its straightforward appearance, provokes further reflection rather than declaring a definitive truth. It is not clear which specific thinkers, if any, he has in mind,3 nor whom he is accusing of weak eyes (he was extremely myopic himself and almost blind on his right eye4). In our situation, we must ask ourselves: are we the mediators? Are Nietzsche and Wittgenstein two resolute thinkers that should only be appreciated in their uniqueness? Asked whether Nietzsche himself was a resolute thinker, the answer will most likely be Yes. Pressed for further elaboration, however, few would be able to provide a satisfactory answer.5 What Nietzsche means with the word ‘resolute’ (entschlossen) in the aphorism is likewise hard to say. Heidegger’s students used to joke about their teacher’s obsession with Entschlossenheit: Ich bin entschlossen, nur weiß ich nicht wozu – ‘I am determined, but I don’t know what for’.6 Considering the numerous internal tensions in his work, Nietzsche’s enschlossene Denker raise a similar problem. The issue is no less complicated in the case of Wittgenstein. The ‘resolute reading’ of his Tractatus has its followers, but it remains controversial. In a different sense, Wittgenstein might be called resolute insofar as he apparently had strong opinions in conversation and, sometimes, in his writings. Yet in his second main work Philosophical Investigations, unpublished, but carefully composed and extensively revised until shortly before his death, he is at pains to avoid any form of such dogmatism. In the final version, strong claims are mostly qualified or framed as tentative solutions; often there are more questions than answers or we are offered competing views without a clear preference for one side. Such a procedure, which might be called perspectivist, could be one point of intersection with Nietzsche. Is stating such a similarity already failing to see the unique? It is another triviality that any two things are different. Again, Nietzsche provides a pointed perspective: already the idea to summarise individuals under a concept may in a certain sense be called a form of lying (TL 1999, 145). Yet logic and philosophy are based on such a form of untruth: they are based on conceptual unification of the multiplicity of experience. Although closer to truth, ‘seeing the unique’ may, under certain conditions, be detrimental both to life (physical survival) and to thinking. ‘The predominant disposition’, Nietzsche writes, to treat the similar as identical – an illogical disposition, for there is nothing identical as such – is what first supplied all the foundations for logic. Similarly, in order for the concept of substance to originate, which is indispensable to logic though nothing real corresponds to it in the strictest sense, it

Introduction  3 was necessary that for a long time changes in things not be seen, not be perceived; the beings who did not see things exactly had a head start over those who saw everything ‘in a flux’. As such, every great degree of caution in inferring, every sceptical disposition, is a great danger to life. (GS §111) Apparently, Nietzsche’s aphorism against mediators is not as straightforward as it seems. Seeing the unique may be the proper way to truth in certain contexts, but strictly and universally applied it leads to the end of thought, to silence and intellectual barrenness. Of course, Nietzsche’s perspectivism is not exactly the same as Wittgenstein’s. And yet pointing out such similarities can enrich our understanding of both. Just as logic, the history of philosophy is based on recognizing patterns in the multiplicity of unique phenomena. It contextualises and compares ideas which are never exactly the same. Yet it is based on seeing similarities in the unique: an indispensable form of untruth at the basis of knowledge (cf. BGE 2001, §24). Leaving aside the interpretative difficulties of the aphorism, we would like to highlight that ‘making things the same’ is not our intention. Comparing does not necessarily result in making things the same, not even in stating similarities. A comparison may bring to the fore differences that were not visible before, aspects that improve our grasp of both sides of the comparison. Some differences may even become clearer against a background of partial similarities. And sometimes the result of a comparison is indeed a parallel or an analogous pattern. Seeing ‘what is unique’ is easy in the case of two thinkers as idiosyncratic as Wittgenstein and Nietzsche, who both sometimes appear as untimely monoliths in the history of ideas. In this case, recognizing similarities, contextualising their thoughts, may provide a better understanding than diligently carving out the differences and ending in silent admiration. In the end, it all depends on what the similarities and differences are, and to what degree they are relevant. We believe a comparison between Nietzsche and Wittgenstein is worthwhile for several reasons. They can be grouped in four categories. 1. Cultural Background 2. Explicit References to Nietzsche in Wittgenstein’s Writings 3. Similarities in Topics and Methods 4. Existing Debate

Cultural Background Both philosophers belong to the German-speaking intellectual world. They come from educated families and were introduced early on to that culture,

4  Shunichi Takagi and Pascal F. Zambito especially to the classics from the late 18th and early 19th century. While Wittgenstein is, in some respects, a very Austrian thinker, the influence of the German tradition must not be underestimated. And although he was born almost half a century later than Nietzsche, he described his own cultural ideal as continuous with the time of Schumann, omitting the second half of the 19th century (MS 107, 156–1577). For Wittgenstein as for Nietzsche, references to the German classics did not require any special explanation. They are not the result of a scholarly reading of Goethe, Schiller or others, but part of a cultural environment. Quotes and sayings are integrated casually into their writing, sometimes without even marking them as quotes or naming the author. Both philosophers refer, for instance, to Schiller’s letter to Goethe where he speaks of the poetic mood (BoT, §5; MS 136, 80a). Nietzsche’s examples of ‘higher men’, whose thriving is at the heart of his morality, are Goethe, Beethoven and Nietzsche himself.8 For Wittgenstein, precisely these three figures have – to different degrees – come close to the central problems of Western culture of which he speaks with admiration, but also some distance because that culture has already begun to disappear in his age of civilization (MS 110, 12). There is also a more specifically philosophical heritage. Both Nietzsche and Wittgenstein refer to Enlightenment thinkers of the German tradition, especially Georg Christoph Lichtenberg, as shown in Marco Brusotti’s contribution to this volume. Moreover, the two philosophers drew on Kant’s critical philosophy, though the inspirations they derived were most plausibly different and neither of them was a Kantian in any straightforward sense. By contrast, the philosophical systems of Fichte, Schelling, and Hegel seem to have attracted rather marginal attention.9 Instead, Nietzsche and Wittgenstein were, at least in their youth, ardent admirers of Schopenhauer’s continuation of the Kantian project. It is striking that the early writings of both philosophers, the Birth of Tragedy as well as Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus, advance a kind of philosophical universalism. To be sure they do not straightforwardly adopt Schopenhauer’s philosophy of the Will, but both seem at least ready to take a view of the world that leads it back to one unifying principle. And both are sympathetic to Schopenhauer’s idea that music has an intimate connection to this principle. While this is very clear in Nietzsche’s Birth (e.g. BoT §16), Wittgenstein considers connections between music and logic more waveringly (e.g. NB 7 February 1915) and finally decides to focus on the latter – yet without eliminating all traces of Schopenhauer in the Tractatus. The important role that is granted to music is not only a Schopenhauerian trait, but also part of the German tradition in a wider sense, especially of Romanticism. Both Nietzsche and Wittgenstein remain attached to music as they distance themselves from Schopenhauer in their later works.

Introduction  5 When Wittgenstein describes his cultural ideal as belonging to the early 19th century, he does not mention Goethe, Hölderlin, Kleist or Eichendorff as key representatives of the time, but Robert Schumann. Considering music as typical of a time and no longer, like Schopenhauer, as a timeless and universal mirror of a metaphysical truth is one symptom of Wittgenstein’s later appreciation of history in his philosophy. It is likely that the increasing importance of history was mediated by Oswald Spengler; it could thus indirectly be traced back to Nietzsche from whom Spengler took ‘history’ as his central question.10 For the later Nietzsche, too, music becomes more historical and instead of an absolute metaphysical principle it is seen as relative to, and characteristic of, certain peoples and cultures (see e.g. BGE, §§240–255). Considering the remark on the time of Schumann, we should note that Wittgenstein is talking about an ‘ideal’ and does not exclude that he was influenced by later ideas. To the contrary, his famous list of influences (MS 154, 15v) contains Ludwig Boltzmann and Heinrich Hertz, who were contemporaries of Nietzsche in the second half of the 19th century, and many contemporaries of his own, from the early 20th century. The fact that Nietzsche himself is not mentioned should not be overestimated. First, it may simply be the case that he was not very present on Wittgenstein’s mind around 1931 when the list was written, even though there are strong indirect hints to Nietzsche through Spengler and Weininger. Perhaps Nietzsche, like Goethe, needed no explicit mention on this list because he had himself become part of the German-speaking cultural heritage that ‘requires no special explanation’.11 Second, there is plenty of other evidence that supports the assumption that Nietzsche was on Wittgenstein’s mind at several stages of his life. We shall now turn to this evidence. Explicit References to Nietzsche in Wittgenstein’s Writings and Conversations We know that Nietzsche’s work was widely discussed among Wittgenstein’s family and friends. His sister Hermine, with whom he exchanged ideas on intellectual matters throughout his life, read Nietzsche’s Human All Too Human in 1915 as she writes in a letter to her brother (CC, 24 March 1915). In 1916, Wittgenstein was a member of the Olmütz Circle around Paul Engelmann where Nietzsche was discussed in direct or indirect ways, as Stefan Majetschak’s contribution to this volume shows. Ludwig Hänsel, who became one of Wittgenstein’s best friends, was reading Nietzsche’s work during the time when they met in a prisoner of war camp in Italy and talked about philosophical matters on a daily basis.12 Moritz Schlick and Friedrich Waismann, with whom Wittgenstein discussed philosophy in the late 1920s and early 30s, had read Nietzsche early on and

6  Shunichi Takagi and Pascal F. Zambito kept referring to his thought throughout their careers, which is shown in Andreas Vrahimis’ essay in this volume. Yet there is also ample evidence of Wittgenstein’s direct engagement with Nietzsche. In Wittgenstein’s own writings and other relevant materials, we find several references which span from his earliest manuscripts to his last years. They show a lifelong presence of Nietzschean ideas in his mind and sometimes indicate intriguing intersections with his own philosophical work at the time of the reference. Already in 1913, he shows a passage from Zarathustra to G.E. Moore, apparently reading the book at the time of his early studies at Cambridge, as Moore notes in his diary.13 During the war, in December 1914, Wittgenstein buys ‘Volume 8’ of Nietzsche’s works and leaves an unusually long coded comment in his manuscript (MS 102, 39v–40v). He connects Nietzsche’s ideas to the problem of solipsism that occupied him both personally and philosophically while he was working on the Tractatus (see Nuno Venturinha’s contribution in this volume). Precisely which works by Nietzsche he had read is not entirely clear as there existed several editions at the time. If it was the octavo edition, as is usually assumed, volume 8 would have contained poetry, the late texts The Case of Wagner, Twilight of the Idols, Nietzsche contra Wagner, The Antichrist and parts of what was at the time considered Nietzsche’s unfinished opus magnum, The Will to Power. In the more portable pocket edition from 1905, volume 8 contained Beyond Good and Evil and The Genealogy of Morals and some fragments from the Nachlass.14 In either case Wittgenstein would have found ‘hostility to Christianity’ by which he was ‘deeply moved’ according to his manuscript, and which he took seriously as an ethical and philosophical position, even though he did not agree. If we also take into account that Hermine read Nietzsche at the time and that the siblings likely discussed their readings, we may have reason to assume some Nietzschean influence on the Tractatus although his name is not mentioned in the final version.15 In the 1920s, there are only indirect connections to Nietzsche through Wittgenstein’s meetings with the Vienna Circle,16 but direct references come up soon after he starts writing philosophy again in 1929, probably rekindled through his reading of Spengler. In October 1930, he speaks of his time as a ‘revaluation of all values’ and asks whether Nietzsche had anticipated this development (MS 183, 53). In January 1931, he mentions Nietzsche as the only philosopher who had ‘perhaps passed by’ the problems of Western culture which Wittgenstein finds himself unable to tackle (MS 110, 12–13). In the Big Typescript, the summary of his middle period, there are some striking similarities to Nietzsche which seem to go beyond a mere terminological coincidence (TS 213,423r; see Majetschak’s essay in this volume).

Introduction  7 From 1933, Wittgenstein repeatedly refers to Nietzsche’s idea of eternal recurrence as an illustration of the relation between grammatical possibility and empirical actuality, a central theme of his later philosophy. The association to Nietzsche seems to have been important to Wittgenstein for he repeats it through various stages throughout the 1930s.17 The most programmatic reference, where Wittgenstein most clearly articulates his proximity to Nietzsche, is made in 1938. As its translation already raises several questions it is worth to be quoted fully in German: Wenn ich nicht eigentlich ein richtigeres Denken, sondern eine andere / neue Gedankenbewegung lehren will, so ist mein Zweck eine ‘Umwertung von Werten’ & ich komme dadurch auf Nietzsche, sowie auch dadurch, daß meiner Ansicht nach, der Philosoph ein Dichter sein sollte.18 (MS 120, 145r) Schulte has nicely put the fascination of this remark, which is not explained in its original context, ‘The more one thinks about this passage, the more one is tempted to despair of giving a convincing interpretation of the whole of it. And yet, the remark seems too evidently important to leave it alone’ (2013, 350). Almost every expression raises a number of open questions: at stake are not only the relation to Nietzsche, but also the much-discussed issue of Wittgenstein’s view on poetry and philosophy, the aim (Zweck) of his philosophy as a whole, the questions of values in this philosophy and the role of a ‘movement of thought’ (Gedankenbewegung) as opposed to ‘more correct thinking’ (richtigeres Denken). Due to its suggestiveness, the remark has provoked three, quite different, reactions in this volume (Brusotti, Kuusela, Zambito). Wittgenstein keeps on referring to Nietzsche until his last years. In 1946, he critically quotes a line from the Zarathustra as an example of a form of materialism which takes ‘soul’ as ‘just a word for something on the body’ (MS 131, 68; cf. TSZ, 23). In 1947, he mentions and modifies an idea about the creative process. While Nietzsche emphasises the element of selection in the works of genius – even the best thinkers, poets or composers have written mediocre things but they were able to separate them from the good ideas – Wittgenstein stresses the special role of incomplete sketches in the whole process of creation (MS 134, 125–125; cf. HH, I, §155). On a related issue, Rush Rhees remembers a conversation from around 1947 where Wittgenstein claimed with Nietzsche that philosophers want ‘to be learnt by heart’ (TSZ, 28) which motivates their sometimes poetic forms of writing (RR, 62–63.).

8  Shunichi Takagi and Pascal F. Zambito Similarities in Topics and Methods The explicit references in Wittgenstein’s writings prove a lifelong occupation with Nietzschean themes and ideas. It is, however, not only the quantity of the direct and indirect intersections between the two that make a comparison worthwhile. Independent of direct influence, their remarks on solipsism, on the task of philosophy, their critiques of language, culture and writing show a striking kinship in the choice of topics and methods. The legacies of both Wittgenstein and Nietzsche have an ambiguous position between the schools of 20th-century philosophy. With their rigorous critique of metaphysics they can be considered forerunners of analytic philosophy. In a negativistic spirit, both used philosophy of language to point out inconsistencies and problems in traditional ways of thinking and in traditional concepts such as ‘subject’, ‘soul’, ‘good’ and ‘evil’. And both outlined a new philosophy that should be as rigid as the sciences and resist all metaphysical nonsense. Historically, this aspect of Nietzsche’s and Wittgenstein’s thought was emphasised and adopted by members of the Vienna Circle. Up to the present analytic readings of Nietzsche stress his naturalism; and analytic readings of Wittgenstein appreciate the programmatic passages from the Tractatus where philosophy is restricted to the clarification of language and the rejection of metaphysical propositions as nonsense. Yet both philosophers are problematic forerunners of analytic philosophy. Their apparently scientistic claims are often undermined by a hypothetical and subjunctive presentation or by performative contradictions (e.g. TLP 6.53–6.54; BGE §16). In their own texts, both Nietzsche and Wittgenstein deviate decidedly from the ideal of clarity and unambiguousness that analytic philosophers typically aspire to. Their perspectival writing lacks a moderating voice which would decide between the various views that are presented. Often their style is more literary than philosophical. In any case it does not conform with conventional academic discourse. Nietzsche is sometimes seen more as a poet than a philosopher, while Wittgenstein seems to have been attracted precisely by this attitude when he famously summarises his attitude to philosophy with the idea that it ought be written ‘only as one writes a poem’ (CV 1998, 28).19 It seems plausible that in both cases this attitude is not a contingent aspect of their philosophy, but an integral part of it which also affects the more analytic claims in their work. That both Nietzsche and Wittgenstein treat ethics and aesthetics not only with analytic means, that they take philosophy to be not merely an academic, but also a deeply personal issue, has made them popular points of reference also for thinkers of the continental tradition. Existing Debate The two philosophers have been compared since the 1970s.20 Interestingly, the first scholars who brought them together were particularly interested in

Introduction  9 Nietzsche’s and Wittgenstein’s negative verdicts on academic philosophy and took more practical careers themselves. After his Krisis book on negative thought from Nietzsche to Wittgenstein (1976), Massimo Cacciari kept on publishing philosophical books, but also became a politician and got elected mayor of Venice twice. After From Nietzsche to Wittgenstein (1989), Glen T. Martin became a social reformer. There have been more specialised articles, chapters and doctoral theses in the past years, but there is no comprehensive attempt to trace the intersections and explore their philosophical implications in different directions. This is the aim of the present volume. In the past years several quality papers on Wittgenstein and Nietzsche have been advanced in German-speaking publications. One aim of our volume is to make this debate available to a wider English-speaking audience. Thus, Nuno Venturinha’s paper on solipsism, although written in English, was published in the German volume Ungesellige Geselligkeiten (2011), whose publisher Parerga has disappeared from the market. Stefan Majetschak’s ‘Philosophie als Arbeit an sich selbst. Wittgenstein, Nietzsche und Paul Ernst’ has hitherto only been available in the German volume Wittgensteins ,große Maschinenschrift‘. Untersuchungen zum philosophischen Ort des Big Typescripts (TS 213) im Werk Ludwig Wittgensteins (Peter Lang 2006). Marco Brusotti has written a seminal historical-philological piece ‘Wittgensteins Nietzsche. Mit vergleichenden Betrachtungen zur Nietzsche-Rezeption im Wiener Kreis’ in the German journal Nietzsche Studien (2009). – Venturinha’s paper is reprinted in this volume and supplemented by a postscript. Majetschak’s paper has been translated and is made available in English for the first time. Marco Brusotti has integrated parts of his German paper into a new English article, which he wrote specifically for this volume, and explores additional aspects that were not included in the older paper, such as Wittgenstein’s and Nietzsche’s relation to Lichtenberg. Some parts of Brusotti’s 2009 paper that have not been used in his new article, are covered and extended in Andreas Vrahimis’ work on the Vienna Circle’s reception of Nietzsche. Essays in this Volume The book consists of two parts. One is rather historical, the other rather systematic – although no sharp line can be drawn between them. The chapters of the first part Wittgenstein reads Nietzsche are mostly based on individual pieces of philological evidence, namely on Wittgenstein’s explicit mentions of Nietzsche in his writings and conversations. Thus, Nuno Venturinha’s essay sets out to situate Wittgenstein’s earliest written reference to Nietzsche within the genesis of the Tractatus and the development of its key ideas, notably the issue of solipsism. In a new afterword to this reprint of his 2011 paper, Venturinha deepens the discussion

10  Shunichi Takagi and Pascal F. Zambito of solipsism as a form of skepticism, explores a non-epistemic reading of Wittgenstein’s view and reacts to recent literature on this topic. The following essays proceed roughly chronologically towards the middle and late Wittgenstein and focus on the place of both thinkers in the development of German-speaking intellectual history. Andreas Vrahimis looks at Nietzsche as an important, but often-underappreciated influence on the Vienna Circle. Schlick and Waismann, who were closest to Wittgenstein in the Circle, appreciated Nietzschean ideas and developed readings of his philosophy that ran counter to the fascist appropriations of Nietzschean thought by many of their contemporaries. By focusing on Nietzsche’s ‘progressive’, scientific-minded and anti-metaphysical side, they can count as forerunners of today’s analytic readers of Nietzsche. At the same time, Vrahimis shows how different Waismann and Schlick reacted to Nietzsche’s views on morality and how Wittgenstein, as always, resists all straightforward classification, although he played an important part in this intellectual constellation. Stefan Majetschak’s contribution was published in German as a contribution to a 2006 volume that focused on the Big Typescript, Wittgenstein’s first attempt to compose a second book out of his hundreds of manuscript pages which he had written after his return to philosophy in 1929. In the translation presented here, English readers can for the first time follow Majetschak’s careful reconstruction of Wittgenstein’s affinity to Nietzsche’s critique of ‘the herd’ and its language – an underappreciated and surprising aspect of the middle Wittgenstein, who is already on track towards what shall later be called ordinary language philosophy. Rather than following the ‘herd’, both Wittgenstein and Nietzsche understand philosophy as ‘work on oneself’. Based on historical evidence and suggestive passages, Majetschak conjectures that the attraction to Nietzsche might have been mediated by Wittgenstein’s reading of Paul Ernst and discussions of Ernst in the Olmütz Circle during the First World War. Marco Brusotti, who has published numerous articles on both thinkers and their philological connections, argues that Wittgenstein’s critique of language could have been influenced by Nietzsche’s philosophy of language, but was more likely stimulated by another figure of German intellectual history, namely by Georg Christoph Lichtenberg. While Brusotti explores Lichtenberg’s famous dictum about the thinking subject (‘it thinks’ rather than ‘I think’) and Nietzsche’s and Wittgenstein’s reactions to it, he locates Nietzsche’s actual influence on Wittgenstein more on the level of values and philosophical style, especially its proximity to poetry. That values and poetry are two important connections between the two thinkers is supported by the most programmatic reference in Wittgenstein’s oeuvre which Brusotti also discusses: the 1938 remark about ‘Umwertung von Werten’. It has attracted two other authors in this volume to comment

Introduction  11 on it. Pascal Zambito looks at the respective remark through the lens of Wittgenstein’s early work. By comparing the peculiar roles of values and the limits of language in the Tractatus and in Nietzsche’s Beyond Good and Evil, he proposes a reading in which also Wittgenstein’s later work may be understood in terms of revaluation. Finally, Oskari Kuusela explores Wittgenstein’s view, expressed in the same remark from 1938, ‘that the philosopher should be a poet’ (MS 120, 145r). Kuusela connects this with the question of truth in philosophy and points out that Wittgenstein’s language-games and clarificatory stories have something in common with Nietzsche’s genealogy: they are not meant as literal truths, but as models and objects of comparison which throw light on the relation of language and reality. Chapters in the second part of this volume do not necessarily depart from concrete references, but explore topics that are relevant to both Nietzsche and Wittgenstein. Thus the first chapter of Part II takes up the topic of poetry from the end of the first part, but shifts the focus to philosophical style more generally. Philip Mills asks in what sense Wittgenstein and Nietzsche can be called ‘poetic’ philosophers. He compares their stylistic efforts, which manifest themselves in their different forms of aphoristic writing, and explores the philosophical implications of their relation to poetry. While the problem of truth is implicit in discussions of poetry, style and philosophical method, Pietro Gori frames the problem as a question of knowledge and certainty. In particular, he highlights perspectivist attitudes in both philosophers’ epistemologies. Emphasising the historical element in human knowledge, he suggests reading Nietzsche and Wittgenstein as advancing a form of pragmatism that does not reduce truth to an arbitrary function of utility, but pays special attention to the role of language in human practices. Similarities in terms of philosophy of language are also the starting point of Paul Loeb’s contribution. However, from the shared critique of grammatical confusions, he proceeds to carve out their different diagnoses of these errors: while Wittgenstein traces philosophical mistakes to deviations from ordinary language, Nietzsche sees common sense not as the solution, but as the primary cause of confusion. More than other authors in this volume, Loeb stresses the differences between the two thinkers and provides a pointed Nietzschean critique of Wittgenstein, contrasting his method to ‘bring words back … to their everyday use’ (PI §116) with ­Nietzsche’s sense of philosophical exceptionalism, and connecting this line of thought with their contrary positions regarding Christian values. It is interesting to see how two authors can touch a similar point from completely different directions and with different philosophical implications: Gordon Bearn also elaborates on the contrast between Nietzsche’s

12  Shunichi Takagi and Pascal F. Zambito ambition to go beyond common sense and grammatical conventions on the one hand – and the principles of ordinary language philosophy, as interpreted by one of Wittgenstein’s most forceful followers, Stanley Cavell, on the other hand. Bearn draws attention to the different strategies to react to forms of language that have become all too conventional, empty and lifeless: confronted with such ‘chagrin’, as Emerson would call it, Nietzsche is trying to get rid of grammar, moving forward, as it were, from the dead forms of convention – whereas Wittgenstein and Cavell are aiming to revive these forms of expression by restoring their real grammar, which they have lost, by bringing them back to human practice and the forms of life where they originated. The last chapter can be read as a reply to Loeb’s and Bearn’s readings which stress the quietist tendencies in Wittgenstein, where philosophy’s aim is apparently to bring philosophy to an end, and contrast it with ­Nietzsche’s forward-looking and constructive view of philosophy. Peter Westergaard, resembling Majetschak’s position in this aspect, sees ­Nietzsche as concerned with a form of self-knowledge that requires a kind of ‘bringing back’ not too different from Wittgenstein. Moreover, he ­argues that the clarity, which Wittgenstein’s philosophy strives for, is not the end of thinking but its starting point. In this spirit, we hope that this volume will inspire further debate. While many of its articles advance well-founded research on philological evidence, on historical intersections and plausible lines of influence, other questions will most likely remain open to further discussion. On the basis of the more or less solid philological and historical data, questions arise that cannot be settled once and for all, but will keep on attracting scholars to think about them. Can a proper appreciation of Nietzsche’s influence help reading the Tractatus as more than a continuation of the RussellFrege project? What is the relation of Wittgenstein and Nietzsche to the Vienna Circle and its heirs in analytic philosophy? How shall we understand Wittgenstein’s self-description as someone who aims at a ‘revaluation of values’? Which philosophical strategy is preferable: The practice of ordinary language philosophy to reconnect words with human forms of life? Or the attempt to go beyond grammar and perhaps even beyond the human form of life? And is it always clear that Wittgenstein would give a version of the first answer and Nietzsche a version of the second? Notes 1 Kerkmann 2022, 182. 2 While in German scholarship KSA has become the standard for referring to Nietzsche’s complete works, there exist several English translations of most of his writings. Therefore we added, in each chapter, the publication date to the

Introduction  13 first abbreviated citation of each work that has multiple translations. We use the §-sign, common in Wittgenstein scholarship, to refer to Nietzsche’s numbered sections or aphorisms. 3 A pre-stage of the aphorism names Schopenhauer and Spinoza as well as Plato and Kant as examples. The remark has also been interpreted as being about Wagner and Nietzsche himself (Kaufmann 2022, 1011). 4 See Young 2010, 209 and 561. 5 Here is a symptomatic passage from Robert Musil’s novel The Man without Qualities: The protagonist Ulrich asks his friend Clarisse: “‘But what was it Nietzsche actually wanted?’ Clarisse reconsidered. ‘Well, of course I don’t mean a Nietzsche monument or a Nietzsche street,’ she said in some embarrassment. ‘But people should try to live as he-’ ‘As he wanted?’ he interrupted her. ‘But what did he want?’ Clarisse started to answer, hesitated, and finally said: ‘Oh come on, you know all that yourself …’ (Musil 1995, 83) 6 Safranski 1998, 166. 7 We, as well as most authors in this volume, refer frequently to Wittgenstein’s Nachlass which is partly accessible in print in the Wiener Ausgabe (WA) or fully accessible online in the Bergen Nachlass Edition (BNE). References according to von Wright’s catalogue (MS 1xx for manuscripts, TS 2xx for typescripts, TS 3xx for dictations) can be retrieved in both editions. 8 See Leiter 2015, 93. 9 Thomas Brobjer’s systematic research on Nietzsche’s reading suggests that Nietzsche most likely read little of Fichte, Schelling, and Hegel, at least directly (Brobjer 2008, 185–236). As for Wittgenstein, he reportedly tried to read some Hegel in the 1940s but soon abandoned it (RR, 52). See also Berg 2021. 10 Spengler 1926, 20. 11 McGuinness 1988, 36. 12 Towards the end of July, Hänsel started reading a volume of Nietzsche which apparently contained The Birth of Tragedy. (TLH 74–75) 13 Due to the fact that Moore’s diaries are only stored at the University Library of Cambridge as manuscripts, this fact has supposedly been known to only a few scholars such as Josef Rothhaupt (see Pilch, 2019, 102; Moore 1912–1914). 14 See Brusotti 2009, 361. 15 See Pilch 2019, 102. 16 See again Vrahimis’ contribution to this volume. Another piece of evidence for Wittgenstein’s acquaintance with Nietzsche’s works is a letter to Schlick from 1932 where Wittgenstein describes his relation to the Vienna Circle with an image from Zarathustra (MS Z, 68) – and even cares to tell Schlick where his image comes from (CC, 6 May 1932). 17 Dictation for Schlick: TS 302, 5 (VW, 13); Brown Book: TS 310, 45; German translation and revision of Brown Book: MS 115, 164. See also Vrahimis’ paper in this volume. 18 As the remark has been revised multiple times, its original form is hard to reconstruct. See the facsimile in BNE: http://www.wittgensteinsource.org/BFE/ Ms-120,145r_f. 19 The original is ‘Philosophie dürfte man eigentlich nur dichten.’ Marco Brusotti’s contribution discusses issues about the translation of this passage. 20 One might count the reactions of the Vienna Circle to both thinkers as the first attempt to bring together elements of Nietzsche and Wittgenstein (see Vrahimis’ essay in this volume).

14  Shunichi Takagi and Pascal F. Zambito Sources Berg, A. (2021). Wittgensteins Hegel, Paderborn: Wilhelm Fink. Brobjer, T. (2008). Nietzsche’s Philosophical Context: An Intellectual Biography, Chicago: University of Illinois Press. Brusotti, M. (2009). ‘Wittgensteins Nietzsche. Mit vergleichenden Betrachtungen zur Nietzsche Rezeption im Wiener Kreis’. Nietzsche-Studien 38, 335–362. Cacciari, M. (1976). Krisis. Saggio sulla crisi del pensiero negativo da Nietzsche a Wittgenstein, Milano: Feltrinelli. Kaufmann, S. (2022). Band 3.2 Kommentar zu Nietzsches ‘Die fröhliche ­Wissenschaft’, Berlin/Boston: De Gruyter. Kerkmann, J. (2022). ‘Bernhard Ritter, Dennis Sölch (Hrsg.): Wittgenstein und die Philosophiegeschichte’, Review in Wittgenstein Studien 13(1), 179–184. Leiter, B. (2015). Nietzsche on Morality, New York: Routledge. Majetschak, S. (2006). ‘Philosophie als Arbeit an sich selbst. Wittgenstein, ­Nietzsche und Paul Ernst’, in Wittgensteins ‘Große Maschinenschrift’: Untersuchungen zum philosophischen Ort des Big Typescripts (TS 213) im Werk Ludwig Wittgensteins, ed. by S. Majetschak, Frankfurt: Peter Lang, 61–78. Martin, Glen T. (1989). From Nietzsche to Wittgenstein: the Problem of Truth and Nihilism in the Modern World, New York: Peter Lang. McGuinness, B.F. (1988). Wittgenstein: A Life, London: Duckworth. Moore, G.E. (1912–1914). George Edward Moore: Personal Papers and Correspondence. GBR /0012/MS Add. 8330 1/3/3. Cambridge: Cambridge University Library. Musil, R. (1995). The Man without Qualities, tr. by Sophie Wilkins, New York: Vintage International. Pilch, M. (2019). ‘1914–1918. Die Entstehung des Tractatus im Ersten Weltkrieg – Nachträge zur Biographie’, in Ludwig Wittgenstein: Die Tractatus Odyssee, ed. R. Schweitzer, Wittgenstein Initiative, 75–116. Safranski, R. (1998). Martin Heidegger. Between Good and Evil, tr. by Ewald ­Osers, MA: Harvard University Press. Schulte, J. (2013), ‘Wittgenstein on Philosophy as Poetry’, in Morphology: ­Questions on Method and Language, eds. M. Molder, D. Soica and N. Fonseca, New York: Peter Lang, 347–369. Spengler, O. (1926). The Decline of the West, tr. by C.F. Atkinson, New York: Knopf. Venturinha, N. (2011). ‘Wittgenstein reads Nietzsche. The Roots of Tractarian ­Solipsism’, in Ungesellige Geselligkeiten. Unsocial Sociabilities. WIttgensteins Umgang mit anderen Denkern. Wittgenstein’s Sources, ed. by Ester Ramharter, Berlin: Parerga 2019, 59–74. ——— (2018). ‘Agrammaticality’, in New Essays on Frege, ed. by G. Bengtsson, A. Pichler, S. Säätelä, Cham: Springer, 159–175. Young, J. (2010). Friedrich Nietzsche. A Philosophical Biography, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Part I

Influence Wittgenstein reads Nietzsche

1 Wittgenstein Reads Nietzsche The Roots of Tractarian Solipsism Nuno Venturinha

Introduction On 9 December 1914, after having been aboard a vessel in the Vistula, Wittgenstein was employed in an artillery workshop in Cracow. The remark that follows was written in code on the previous day in the second of the surviving wartime notebooks: Bought Nietzsche volume 8 and read in it. I am strongly impressed by his hostility against Christianity. For there is also some truth contained in his writings him. To be sure, Christianity is the only secure way to happiness; but what if someone spurned this happiness?! Might it not be better to ruin oneself, unhappy, in a despairing struggle against the external world? Such a life is senseless. But why not lead a senseless life? Is it unworthy? – How can it be reconciled with the strictly solipsistic point of view? But what must I do to prevent my life being lost to me? I must be always conscious of it – of the spirit.1 This long passage is particularly important to understand Wittgenstein’s early philosophy because it not only introduces the issue of solipsism, but does so in connection with a reading of Nietzsche. The volume Wittgenstein apparently refers to contained The Case of Wagner, from 1888, The Twilight of the Idols, from 1889, as well as the posthumous writings, prepared between August 1888 and January 1889, Nietzsche contra Wagner, The Antichrist – the first book of the project Transvaluation of all Values – and some Poetries.2 Incidentally, there is not a single occurrence of the term “solipsism” either in these works or in any other of Nietzsche’s. A closer look at Wittgenstein’s remark reveals, however, that he actually puts Nietzsche’s “hostility against Christianity” (Feindschaft gegen das Christentum) alongside his “strictly solipsistic point of view” (streng solipsistische[r] Standpunkt). Thus, if the encounter with Nietzsche gave Wittgenstein an extra illumination, this must have consisted only of an

DOI: 10.4324/9781003219071-3

18  Nuno Venturinha insight into the most possible negative way of establishing a human life, rejecting Christianity, which, by that time, was already conceived in a “solipsistic” manner. It is then Wittgenstein’s reaction to such a view, while elaborating his Tractarian conception of solipsism, that I shall be examining in the remainder of this essay. I In a letter to Russell of 22 May 1915, about two months before leaving Cracow, Wittgenstein wrote: The problems are becoming more and more lapidary and general and the method has changed drastically.–3 We shall never know exactly what Wittgenstein meant when he said that “the method [had] changed drastically”, but an analysis of the remarks written down at that time in MS 102 may offer us a clue. In fact, if the few coded entries for May 1915 on the left-hand pages are merely of biographical interest,4 there are quite a lot of un-coded philosophical remarks covering all that month on the right-hand pages.5 Among these, a segment that can be found just one day after the above-mentioned letter to Russell was written deserves special attention. Indeed, 23 May opens with the following considerations: The limits of my language mean the limits of my world. There really is only one world soul, which I for preference call my soul and as which alone I conceive what I call the souls of others. The above remark gives the key for deciding to what extent solipsism is a truth. I have long been conscious that it would be possible for me to write a book: “The world I found”.6 And the closing remark for that day reads as follows: In the book “The world I found” I should also have to report on my body and say something which members are subject to my will, etc. For this is a method of isolating the subject, or rather of showing that in an important sense there is no such thing as the subject; for it would be the one thing that could not come into this book. –7 Except for the second, all these remarks made their way into the Tractatus. They are interspersed from 5.6 onwards, the 5s ending precisely with a discussion of solipsism. Yet, it will be useful to consider as well how these

Wittgenstein Reads Nietzsche  19 remarks made their way into the so-called Prototractatus. Furthermore, in its notebook, MS 104, they are spread among different layers of the text. Following the lead of Brian McGuinness, I have argued elsewhere that a first treatise, which Wittgenstein concluded at Olmütz towards the end of 1916, was composed of only the first 70 pages of the Prototractatus manuscript.8 As a consequence, the last numerical proposition of it was not 7, which comes only on page 71,9 but 6.131 of page 66 – corresponding to the second paragraph of 6.13 of the Tractatus. This, interestingly enough, states that “[l]ogic is transcendental”. Given that the first ethical remark, later rubbed out, appears close to proposition 7, at the top of page 71,10 it seems then as if the “proto-Prototractatus”, in McGuinness’ words, would solely contain remarks about logic. Still, a genetic look at Wittgenstein’s elaboration of his treatise will show that the remarks on solipsism selected for the 1916 version actually make the bridge between what one might call a Tractatus Logicus and the Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus itself. II To begin with, let us list the relevant propositions that figure in MS 104 before page 70. They start with a reformulation of the first entry of 23 May 1915, which is taken as the main proposition, and run as follows: The limits of my language are mean the limits of my world. This remark gives the key for deciding [the question] to what extent solipsism is a truth. For what solipsism means is quite correct, only it cannot be said, but it shows itself. That the world is my world shows itself in the fact that the limits of my language (the only [only] language which I understand) mean the limits of my world. There is no such thing as the thinking, representing subject.11 Taking into account that proposition 5.3351, the first paragraph of 5.62 of the Tractatus, derives from the third entry of 23 May, it is likely that “the key” Wittgenstein alludes to is not to be found in proposition 5.335, 5.6 of the Tractatus, but in the (omitted) second entry for that day in MS 102.12 This is also the reading suggested by Peter Hacker.13 But, for instance, David Pears is of the opinion that the first paragraph of proposition 5.62 of the Tractatus constitutes a comment on 5.6, the same happening in the corresponding passages of the diary.14 Joachim Schulte, in turn, even criticizing Pears, notes that, in MS 104, the proposition that precedes 5.3351 is actually 5.335.15

20  Nuno Venturinha I leave this question open and turn now to the second appearance in the Prototractatus notebook of the topic of solipsism. And, contrary to what characterized his inaugural treatment, Wittgenstein would not insert this time the propositions consecutively, but these were interwoven with many of the ethical-religious remarks from the right-hand pages of MS 103, the third of the wartime notebooks that survived. Thus, after condensing in a sole proposition the fourth and the closing remark of 23 May 1915 on page 76, under the number 5.33541, forming the second paragraph of 5.631 of the Tractatus, Wittgenstein inserted on page 83 a proposition bearing the number 5.33531 – consisting, therefore, of a comment on 5.3353, the third paragraph of 5.62 of the Tractatus – which, corresponding to 5.621 of the final version, says that “[t]he world and life are one”. This, then, is immediately followed by a proposition, numbered 6.4221, the (parenthetical) third paragraph of 6.421 of the Tractatus, stating that “[e]thics and aesthetics are one”. Both come from remarks written down on 24 July 1916,16 with the other two remarks of that day, which never reached a later version, reading as follows: Physiological life is of course not “Life”. And neither is psychological life. Life is the world. Ethics does not treat of the world. Ethics must be a condition of the world, like logic.17 If we bear in mind that, as a result of an immanent procedure, the last proposition of what I called the Tractatus Logicus should conclude that “[l]ogic is transcendental”, it is of particular interest that both in the Prototractatus and the Tractatus the proposition that identifies ethics with aesthetics is immediately preceded by one saying that “[e]thics is transcendental”,18 the source of which is the last remark of 30 July 1916.19 In fact, after the extensive remark that marks the transition of the ethical entries from the coded left-hand pages to the un-coded right-hand ones in MS 103, dated 11 June 1916, where Wittgenstein already writes, in the sixth paragraph, that “life is the world”, anticipating the first record of 24 July,20 we clearly see that the reflections on solipsism lie with their application to ethical-religious views about our cognitive and linguistic limits. That is the reason why in MS 104, as well as in the Prototractatus and Tractatus numbering, the idea of the transcendentalism of ethics represents a comment on a proposition affirming that “ethics cannot be expressed”,21 something originally recorded also on 30 July 1916.22 Moreover, both in the Prototractatus and in the Tractatus, the proposition about the inexpressibility of ethics comes after one that ­follows 6.41, the more philosophical version, so to speak, of the remark of 11 June, with Wittgenstein writing that “there can be no ethical ­propositions”, and that “[p]ropositions cannot express anything higher”.23

Wittgenstein Reads Nietzsche  21 III This connection between solipsism and ethics or religion becomes even more clear when we verify that the next solipsistic proposition in MS 104, numbered 5.33542, 5.632 in the Tractatus – thus functioning as a comment on 5.33541 of page 76, the second paragraph of 5.631 of the Tractatus – immediately follows, on page 84, an intriguing remark, composed of two paragraphs, to which no number has been assigned. Proposition 5.33542, 5.632 of the Tractatus, mentions that “[t]he subject does not belong to the world but it is a limit of the world”. It stems from a remark dated 2 August 1916, which begins by saying that “[g]ood and evil only enter through the subject”.24 Looking now for the source of the unnumbered proposition referred to above, we see that it lies in the opening entries for 1 August 1916, appearing on the heels of that about the transcendentalism of ethics. I quote the two together: How things stand, is God. God is, how things stand.25 Further connections are well worth our attention, but there are two that I would like to mention here because they bring us back directly to Wittgenstein’s statement about Nietzsche. The first one has to do with the next entry for 1 August, in which it is said: Only from the consciousness of the uniqueness of my life arises religion – science – and art.26 While it is evident that this “uniqueness of my life” is related to “the strictly solipsistic point of view”, the use of the word “consciousness” ­(Bewußtsein), repeated on the very next day, where it is identified with “life itself”,27 seems to be truly reminiscent of the last sentence of 8 December 1914 where Wittgenstein emphasized that “to prevent [his] life being lost to [him]”, “[he] must be always conscious (bewußt) of it – of the spirit”. The second connection I would like to draw attention to concerns the two propositions that, in MS 104, precede the unnumbered remark at issue, following the view that “ethics is transcendental”. The former is the well-known proposition that affirms that “[t]he world of the happy is quite another than that of the unhappy”,28 deriving from an entry dated 29 July 1916.29 The other is the equally famous proposition about the laying down of any “ethical law” and the sort of “ethical reward” and “ethical punishment” that is at stake in our actions.30 Its source is the opening remark of 30 July,31 with Wittgenstein writing on that day, apart from the early versions of propositions 6.421 and 6.422, i.e. the first and second paragraphs

22  Nuno Venturinha of 6.421 of the Tractatus, three other remarks, which also have much in common with the framework of that on Nietzsche. They read as follows: I keep on coming back to this! simply the happy life is good, the unhappy bad. And if I now ask myself: But why should I live happily, then this of itself seems to me to be a tautological question; the happy life seems to be justified, of itself; it seems that it is the only right life. But we could say: The happy life seems to be in some sense more harmonious than the unhappy. But in what sense?? What is the objective mark of the happy, harmonious life? Here it is again clear that there cannot be any such mark, that can be described. This mark cannot be a physical one but only a metaphysical one, a transcendental one.32 We are now in a position to better understand Wittgenstein’s talk about Christianity as “the only secure way to happiness” in spite of the “truth contained in [Nietzsche’s] writings [Nietzsche]”. Indeed, there is nothing in the empirical world that justifies a “leap of faith”, to use a phrase of Kierkegaard, and, in so doing, we may be merely negating our will because we are not strong enough to affirm it, overcoming the very idea(l) of truth, that is, of a version about reality. Nevertheless, there is something inside of us that speaks against such a “will to power”,33 something that cannot be “described” or “put into words”: our “conscience” (Gewissen), which Wittgenstein, in an entry dated 8 July 1916, characterizes as “the voice of God”.34 IV Thus, when Wittgenstein writes that “[t]he subject does not belong to the world but it is a limit of the world”, he is not simply making an epistemological claim as the numbering both of the Prototractatus and of the Tractatus suggest. If we criss-cross Wittgenstein’s remarks in their original sequence, as well as in the sequence they take in MS 104, it becomes manifest that the problem of solipsism grew up in his mind along with an ethical-religious view on the world. A pair of remarks of 2 and 5 August 1916, neither of which are included in either the Prototractatus or in the Tractatus, reinforces the reading I am proposing here. They say: As the subject is not a part of the world but a presupposition of its existence, so good and evil which is are predicates of the subject, are not properties in the world.35 If the will did not exist, neither would there be that centre of the world, which we call the I and which is the bearer of ethics.36

Wittgenstein Reads Nietzsche  23 It was between these two days of notes that Wittgenstein wrote down, on 4 August, what came to be proposition 5.33543 of the Prototractatus, numbered 5.633 in the Tractatus, which follows, even in MS 104 on page 84, that about the subject being a limit of the world. There begins the remarkable discussion about the “field of sight” or “visual field”. He observes in his diary: Where in the world is a metaphysical subject to be found? You say that here it is just as it is for the eye and the visual field. But you do not actually see the eye. And I think that nothing in the visual field would enable one to infer that it is seen from an eye.37 Then, after a remark that echoes closely the last solipsistic proposition of the “proto-Prototractatus”, proposition 5.3354 – the first paragraph of 5.631 of the Tractatus – which comes before 5.33541, 5.33542 and 5.33543 (5.631[2], 5.632 and 5.633 in the final version), stating that “[t]he thinking subject is surely mere illusion” whereas “the willing subject exists”,38 there follows a train of reflections on the “I”. It starts with the remark about the “I” as the “centre of the world” and “bearer of ethics”, continuing as follows: What is good and evil is essentially the I, not the world. The I, the I is what is deeply mysterious! The I is not an object. I objectively confront every object. But not the I. So there really is a way in which there can and must be talk about the I in a non-psychological sense in philosophy. The I makes its appearance in philosophy through the world’s being my world.39 It is important to appreciate this earlier approach to the question because only the last two remarks made their way into the Prototractatus and the Tractatus. They constitute the two paragraphs of proposition 5.33551 of the former, which comes in MS 104 on page 85, and the first two paragraphs of proposition 5.641 of the latter, actually the final of the 5s. The third paragraph of proposition 5.641, bearing the number 5.33552 in MS 104 on page 94, was taken from a later remark, dated 2 September 1916. It also focuses on the “I” but revealing in a different way the “metaphysical subject”. The diary version differs significantly from the (Proto-)Tractarian versions because the second sentence of the remark was left out by Wittgenstein. In full the quotation is:

24  Nuno Venturinha The philosophical I is not the human being, not the human body or the human soul with the psychological properties, but the metaphysical subject, the boundary (not a part) of the world. The human body, however, my body in particular, is a part of the world among others, among beasts, plants, stones, etc., etc.40 Still on that day there are further contributions to the discussion about the “I”. The opening entry is the most important one since, in MS 104, further ahead on the same page where proposition 5.33551 was inserted, we find it, slightly modified, with the number 5.3355, coinciding with proposition 5.64 of the Tractatus. Consequently, it is meant to preface, in both texts, the two (or three) last-mentioned statements. And it is here that the word “solipsism” reappears. I quote from the final version: Here we see that solipsism strictly carried out coincides with pure realism. The I in solipsism shrinks to an extensionless point and there remains the reality co-ordinated with it.41 Bewilderingly, this remark begins by alluding to a “Here” which is by no means easy to determine. In effect, it is not related to the thoughts expressed on the previous days, neither on the right-hand pages nor on the left-hand ones, so that we must turn to the later versions in order to grasp its meaning. We verify then that in the textual sequence of MS 104 it is preceded by proposition 5.33545, whose two paragraphs form the second and third ones of 5.634 of the Tractatus. The first paragraph of proposition 5.634 of the Tractatus is numbered 5.33544 in MS 104,42 following, on page 85, proposition 5.33551, the one that numerically follows 5.3355. Accordingly, the puzzling “Here” drives us to the closing remarks of 12 August 1916, standing between them and the opening entry for that day – where the segment on the “I” apparently ended – the much-quoted remark with the diagram of the eye. This comes, in MS 104, immediately after proposition 5.33543, 5.633 in the Tractatus, bearing the number 5.335431 in the Prototractatus and 5.6331 in the final version. Here are the closing remarks of 12 August: This is connected with the fact that none of our experience is a priori. All that we see could also be otherwise. All that we can describe at all could also be otherwise.43 The addition Wittgenstein made to this sequence on page 92 of MS 104, writing down out of the blue, as it were, a proposition numbered 5.33546, in what would be the fourth paragraph of 5.634 of the Tractatus, saying that “[t]here is no order of things a priori”, cannot thus be seen as the root

Wittgenstein Reads Nietzsche  25 of the remark that makes solipsism coincident with realism, still less as a vindication of empiricism. Quite the contrary, the original context I have tried to reconstruct plainly shows that what Wittgenstein really means is that experience is, in a certain sense, always a posteriori since it is already my experience. That is why, in MS 104, after the proposition on solipsism and realism, Wittgenstein went on to write, on page 85, “I am my world” and parenthetically “the microcosm”, assigning to this proposition the number 5.33532, 5.63 in the Tractatus. It stems from a much later remark, dated 12 October 1916,44 but it came to follow proposition 5.33531, number 5.621 of the Tractatus, in which it is said that “[t]he world and life are one”. V This was, as we have seen, the first proposition that Wittgenstein selected for his second consideration of solipsism in MS 104. And, as we also have seen, that proposition was followed, on page 83, by 6.4221, which says, in turn, that “[e]thics and aesthetics are one”. So, in order to conclude this analysis, I would like to point out that the proposition that, in MS 104, follows 5.33532 states that “[t]he contemplation of the world sub specie aeterni is its contemplation as a limited whole”,45 something specified by a proposition that comes on the next page, with Wittgenstein writing that “[t]he feeling of the world as a limited whole is the mystical feeling”.46 To make things even more interesting, the former of these propositions is actually prefaced, in the Prototractatus numbering, by the proposition that in the manuscript follows 6.42, about the impossibility of “ethical propositions” given that “[p]ropositions cannot express anything higher”, which bears the same number in the Tractatus. It says that “[t]here is indeed the inexpressible”, that “[t]his shows itself”, that “it is the mystical”.47 And, perhaps the best of the story, the only remark in the diaries in which the word “mystical” appears was written down only two days after the first series of solipsistic remarks,48 preceding, in MS 104, where it was slightly modified, the proposition about the possible book “The world I found”.49 This criss-crossed net of relations makes us see that a theoretical reading of Wittgenstein’s solipsism cannot be entirely right. That kind of reading receives its classic expression in Hacker, who criticizes McGuinness’ association of phrases like “Man is the microcosm” or “I am my world”, as said on 12 October 1916, with “traditional mysticism”. Here is how Hacker poses the question: Wittgenstein’s solipsism was inspired by Schopenhauer’s doctrines of transcendental idealism. These he adapted to his own peculiar transcendental form of “theoretical egoism”. What the solipsist means, and is

26  Nuno Venturinha correct in thinking, is that the world and life are one, that man is the microcosm, that I am my world. These equations have little to do with traditional mysticism and are not descriptions of mystical experiences. Nor are they essentially connected with ethical Stoicism, involving a refusal to identify oneself with part of the world.50 And he goes on to say, criticizing McGuinness:51 McGuinness suggests that realization that the world is my world is an essential part of happiness, that “I am my world” is a refusal to identify oneself with the physiological or psychological peculiarities and life of a particular individual. He […] associates [this interpretation] with traditional mysticism.52 I do not have opportunity to consider in detail here Wittgenstein’s concept of “mysticism”, but it was surely influenced by Schopenhauer, who, in The World as Will and Representation, frequently alludes to mystics like Meister Eckhart or Angelus Silesius, a tradition of thought that Wittgenstein greatly admired.53 Thus, even though McGuinness’ view of Wittgenstein’s mysticism is somewhat confused, it is evident that Hacker’s interpretation overlooks the ethical-religious implications of solipsism.54 In truth, there is no “theoretical egoism” in Wittgenstein, as there is none in Schopenhauer.55 What they both aim at is precisely a negation of our natural egoism, the negation that Nietzsche seeks to overcome.56 The notes of Wittgenstein’s sister, Hermine, on Nietzsche’s criticism of Schopenhauer in Human, All Too Human, dating from 1917–1918, go exactly in that vein.57 And we know, from a postcard sent to her brother at the beginning of 1915, as well as from a letter dated 24 March of the same year, that she was already reading Nietzsche at that time, more specifically, as the letter reveals, the Human, All Too Human.58 I shall then close with a quotation from Nietzsche’s preface to the second volume of that work, a quotation that may have been an inspiration for both the preface and proposition 7 of the Tractatus:59 One should only speak where one may not remain silent; and only speak of what one has overcome – everything else is chatter, “literature”, lack of breeding.60

Afterword (2022) In his seminal paper “Knowledge by Acquaintance and Knowledge by Description”, first published in 1910–11, Russell contends that while it makes

Wittgenstein Reads Nietzsche  27 no sense to deny the role played by the subject in cognition, as that would be tantamount to assuming a purely materialistic view, one should avoid falling into the other extreme, namely “that what is presented is part of the subject”; by following this route, he warns, “we arrive at idealism, and should arrive at solipsism but for the most desperate contortions”.61 Although he essentially agreed with Russell on this matter, Wittgenstein did not see things in the same light and Russell’s “dualism of subject and object”62 was actually contorted into a strange mix of idealism or solipsism and realism. The last diary entry for 15 October 1916 seems to attenuate the coincidence between solipsism and realism that is found in the aforementioned entry for 2 September of the same year which would make its way into proposition 5.3355 of the Prototractatus, 5.64 of the Tractatus. Wittgenstein writes: This is the way I have travelled: Idealism singles men out from the world as unique, solipsism singles me alone out, and at last I see that I too belong with the rest of the world, and so on the one side nothing is left over, and on the other side, as unique, the world. In this way idealism leads to realism if it is strictly thought out.63 Still, this mitigated combination of idealism and realism was overshadowed by the emphasis on solipsism that characterizes both the Prototractatus and the Tractatus. Hence, we will run into problems if we interpret this solipsism on purely epistemological grounds as the balance inevitably tips to the internalist side. The externalist, realist side is swallowed up in it when we realize that any justification for our evidence that the external world really exists is mind-dependent. What emerges is the spectre of radical scepticism, which is often associated with solipsism. But this kind of interpretation – which I shall call the epistemic reading – falls short of noticing that Wittgenstein’s solipsistic perspective does not involve a sceptical line of argument. Sami Pihlström has recently articulated such a nonepistemic reading. Departing from the tendency to equate “the radical skeptical scenario that there is no world external to our thought” with “the solipsistic view that the world exists only due to our thinking”, Pihlström distinguishes between two conceptions of solipsism: one “as a mere skeptical idea” and another “as a ‘transcendental’ idea”.64 The former he describes as follows: “for all I know, it is possible, or conceivable, that nothing exists independently of my mind and experience”; the latter, in turn, corresponds to the realization that “‘the world is my world’ in the somewhat mystical sense of Ludwig Wittgenstein’s early work, Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus”.65 It is only when we explore this second stance, Pihlström argues, that we can grasp the extent to which solipsism can be

28  Nuno Venturinha “both ethically and metaphysically, or even existentially, fundamental to our self-understanding”.66 I sympathize with Pihlström’s approach for that is exactly what I have tried to demonstrate in this essay while focusing specifically on Wittgenstein’s reaction to Nietzsche. Still, I think that the success of the non-epistemic reading depends upon whether the cancellation of the epistemic reading is a valid cancellation. The purpose of this Afterword is to elaborate on this specific aspect. In an interesting analysis of the problem of solipsism, James Levine observes that at first glance it may seem reasonable to defend that “[s]ince, for Wittgenstein, understanding ~(Solip) precludes its truth, he is thereby committed to denying that ~(Solip) is a sentence with sense and to holding that, if ~(Solip) is a sentence at all, it is a contradiction”; but in this way, Levine points out, “he is committed to holding that, if (Solip) is a sentence at all, it is a tautology”.67 We thus get a paradoxical result if we look at the matter that way. So Levine concludes that “it is clear that he cannot regard (Solip) as a (senseless) tautology or ~(Solip) as a (senseless) contradiction, but is rather committed to regarding both as nonsensical pseudo-sentences”.68 While Wittgenstein does not qualify solipsism as either sinnlos or unsinnig in his early writings, he does use the latter adjective and not the former to talk about scepticism. As mentioned above,69 this occurs in the second remark for 1 May 1915 which, together with the one that follows in the diary, would form proposition 6.51 in both the Prototractatus and the Tractatus. I quote from the final version: Scepticism is not irrefutable, but obviously nonsensical (unsinnig), if it would doubt where a question cannot be asked. For doubt can only exist where there is a question; a question only where there is an answer, and this only where something can be said.70 When we consider the matter attentively, we quickly understand that scepticism or solipsism are by no means good candidates to be conceived as “senseless” (sinnlos) according to Wittgenstein’s technical use of this term. He reserves it for tautologies and contradictions,71 which, he specifies, “are, however, not nonsensical (nicht unsinnig)”.72 Using Levine’s notation, in order for (Solip) and ~(Solip) to count respectively as a tautology and a contradiction, we would need to affirm something like “~[(Solip) & ~(Solip)]” in the first case and “(Solip) & ~(Solip)” in the second. But in so doing we would be affirming nothing about (Solip) and ~(Solip) in themselves. Tautologies and contradictions, Wittgenstein explains, “are not pictures of reality” as these limiting cases of truth-functions “present no possible situation”.73 Of course, there are special cases of single propositions that are tautological (or contradictory), e.g. “a triangle has three straight sides and three angles” (or “a triangle does not have three straight

Wittgenstein Reads Nietzsche  29 sides and three angles”). Yet, what the proposition asserts does not go beyond the definition of a name (or its annulment). It is instructive what the Prototractatus tells us in this regard at 4.44602, a proposition that was not incorporated in the Tractatus: “Analytical propositions are tautologies.”74 Solipsism cannot be a “truth” to the same extent as the definition of triangle (a plane figure with three straight sides and three angles) is a senseless truth insofar the latter forms a tautology in virtue of its analyticity. All that solipsism (or its negation) wants to say, if anything, is wholly synthetic as the existence (or non-existence) of something outside my present experience cannot be derived from the concept of a subject who has this present experience. So how can solipsism be a nonsensical “truth”? John W. Cook first, Cora Diamond later and, more recently, Shunichi Takagi have all put forward substantive arguments that support an interpretation of Wittgenstein’s remarks for 1 May 1915 in light of a rejoinder to Russell’s 1914 book Our Knowledge of the External World as a Field for Scientific Method in Philosophy,75 which consists of the Lowell Lectures he gave in Boston in March and April 1914.76 In fact, the final entry for that day mentions that “Russell’s method in his ‘Sc[ientific] Method in Phil[osophy]’ is simply a retrogression from the method of physics”.77 “Scientific Method in Philosophy” is, however, the title of another work published by Russell in the same year consisting of the Herbert Spencer Lecture given on 18 November 1914.78 It thus becomes uncertain whether Wittgenstein’s reference is to the book, to the lecture or to both. Whereas Cook and Takagi believe that what Wittgenstein read was the book,79 Diamond leans toward the hypothesis that he did get the two texts from John Maynard Keynes.80 In a letter to Wittgenstein dated 10 January 1915, Keynes alludes indeed to “a new book” by Russell appeared “about the beginning of the War”,81 that is, June–August 1914, and in his reply, apparently written on 25 January 1915, Wittgenstein urges Keynes to send him that “book”.82 We shall never know exactly what Keynes sent to Wittgenstein, if he did manage to send anything at all. But if he did, Russell’s just 30-page long pamphlet of the lecture is unlikely to have been equated with the “book” alluded to in Keynes’ letter. Taking into account the striking parallels with Our Knowledge of the External World, there are good reasons to believe that Wittgenstein will have received some time after his exchange with Keynes, pace Diamond, the “British binding issue” of the first edition of that book, which came out in August 1914, one month before the publication of the “American binding issue” and various months before the publication of the Lecture.83 Our Knowledge of the External World represents Russell’s first major work after the collapse of his 1913 project of a Theory of Knowledge.84 This project was put behind mainly as a result of Wittgenstein’s acute criticism of Russell’s multiple relation theory of judgment (henceforth MRTJ),85

30  Nuno Venturinha a criticism that still finds an echo in the Tractatus where at 5.5422 Wittgenstein affirms: The correct explanation of the form of the proposition “A judges B” must show that it is impossible to judge a nonsense (Unsinn). (Russell’s theory does not satisfy this condition.) The same point had already been made by Wittgenstein in the 1913 “Notes on Logic”, dictated to Russell before leaving to Norway, where he would stay until the outbreak of the War in 1914. In the “Summary” Wittgenstein makes the following observation: In my theory p has the same meaning as not-p but opposite sense. The meaning is the fact. The proper theory of judgment must make it impossible to judge nonsense.86 Russell’s MRTJ was laid out long before the preparation of his 1913 Theory of Knowledge. In the 1910 paper “On the Nature of Truth and Falsehood”, he already writes that “judgment is not a dual relation of the mind to a single Objective, but a multiple relation of the mind to the various other terms with which the judgment is concerned”.87 Russell was convinced that only this theory could solve the problem of there being a false judgment as long as the dual relation theory requires that the judgment be inevitably true. But if we understand that any “judgment is a relation of a mind to several objects, one of which is a relation”, then it will be possible to say, he claims, that “the judgment is true when the relation which is one of the objects relates the other objects” for “otherwise it is false”.88 We find this same approach in “Knowledge by Acquaintance and Knowledge by Description”89 and, of course, in the Theory of Knowledge, where the relation of judging is largely explained in terms of a relation of believing.90 Thus, he maintains that the processes of “belief and understanding”, contrary to what happens in a dual, direct cognitive relation like that of perception, “have not a single object, the ‘proposition’, but have a plurality of objects, united with the subject in a multiple relation”.91 Russell’s rejection of a Fregean-like view based on the articulation between an intersubjective meaning or sense (the Sinn) and an objective denotation or reference (the Bedeutung), a rejection he had been formulating since the 1905 paper “On Denoting”, is well synthesized in this non-objectivist account of what does it mean to believe in something: […] the whole nature of belief must necessarily be misunderstood by those who suppose that it consists in a relation between “ideas”, rather than in the belief of a relation between objects. Something subjective

Wittgenstein Reads Nietzsche  31 must be so inseparably bound up with belief as to make it impossible to regard it as a dual relation to a single object, since, if we did so regard it, falsehood would become inexplicable.92 Russell is not suggesting that we are subjectivists through and through. Quite the contrary, his theory aims to safeguard an objectivity that necessarily has to be presupposed if we do not want to reduce the propositional content to “ideas” intersubjectively shared by human beings within a metaphysical, Platonist framework. After all, as he puts it in another text from 1913, the “two-term relation” that constitutes “presentation” or “acquaintance”, promoted by “a subject, or (better) an act, to a single (simple or complex) object”, is preserved alongside the “multiple relation” of believing or judging, that carried out by “a subject or act to the several objects concerned in the judgment”.93 And it is this understanding of the matter that, despite his criticism levelled against Russell’s theory in 1913, Wittgenstein will find again in Our Knowledge of the External World, specifically at the end of Lecture II. After reiterating why it is necessary to go beyond “a two-term relation” in the explanation of “the nature of judgment or belief”, Russell declares that incapacity to figure out this crucial aspect “vitiated almost everything that has hitherto been written on the theory of knowledge, making the problem of error insoluble and the difference between belief and perception inexplicable”.94 It is then particularly relevant that Wittgenstein’s reference to scepticism as being “not irrefutable, but obviously nonsensical” represents a direct response to Russell’s claim made just a few pages ahead (7 to be exact, if one excludes the blank pages), in Lecture III, that “[u]niversal scepticism, though logically irrefutable, is practically barren” and as such “can only, therefore, give a certain flavour of hesitancy to our beliefs” even if it “cannot be used to substitute other beliefs for them”.95 That Wittgenstein’s response is articulated within the framework of his opposition to Russell’s MRTJ has nevertheless passed unobserved by commentators of proposition 6.51 of the Tractatus.96 In the remainder of this Afterword I will do two things: I will explain why from a philosophical point of view this appears to be the best interpretation of the passage and how it coheres well with the non-epistemic reading I have been favouring on the basis of Wittgenstein’s reaction to Nietzsche; at the same time, I will lay down a series of philological arguments supporting such an interpretation which seem to have escaped the attention of scholarship. Russell’s admission that radical, “universal scepticism” is “logically irrefutable” involves a good deal of confusion. A proposition can only be logically irrefutable if it is a tautology and, for Wittgenstein, the whole business of logic consists in showing that logical propositions are tautological and therefore uninformative. We saw that, as a purely formal

32  Nuno Venturinha discipline, logic can do no more than allowing the construal of propositions like “~[(Solip) & ~(Solip)]” and “(Solip) & ~(Solip)” as being tautological and contradictory, respectively. Any claims of the form “there is something outside my present experience” or “there is nothing outside of my present experience”, which can be formalized in terms of “(∃y)(~Ay)” and “~(∃y)(~Ay)”, say nothing else than “not everything is the object of my present acquaintance” or “everything exists within my acquaintance”, which can be formalized in terms of “~(∀y)(Ay)” and “(∀y)(Ay)”.97 We have done no more than stating a logical equivalence between “(∃y)(~Ay)” and “~(∀y)(Ay)” on the one hand and “~(∃y)(~Ay)” and “(∀y)(Ay)” on the other. The content of these propositions is entirely irrelevant to logic as they could be used to express anything that is logically translatable through the same schemes, e.g.: “I am not the author of all books that exist in the world” or “I am the author of all books that exist in the world”. The empirical congruence or incongruence of these two propositions – as well as the previous ones – is of no interest to logic. It therefore comes as no surprise that Russell’s theory of types had been sharply criticized by Wittgenstein as it is for him inconceivable that a logical theory can declare that such and such proposition has sense and such and such is nonsensical. That some proposition is a tautology or a contradiction is shown in the symbolism alone.98 Yet, the shortcomings of Russell’s theory of types at the logical level are no less important than those of his MRTJ at the epistemological level. As we saw, Wittgenstein was convinced that Russell’s view of judgment had the unfortunate result of making it possible “to judge (a) nonsense”. If there is no “single Objective” to which a subject A is related in the judgment “A believes that the external world exists” and all that A is related to are the multiple constituents or objects of the judgment itself (viz. “A”, “A’s belief that it is so”, “the quality of being external”, “the world” and “the predicate of existence”), then it is difficult to see how, in Russell’s words, “the relation which is one of the objects relates the other objects” for A’s judgment to be true. Without any other condition than the judging relation itself – something that Russell thinks necessary to avoid a metaphysical hypostatizing of a Fregean “proposition” to which A’s judgment would refer – we are bound to accept as meaningful whatever relation that A entertains in its mind – even one resting solely in a subjective representation. A person with schizophrenia can affirm that he is Napoleon exactly as a radical sceptic can claim that there is no world external to her thought. As long as they are related to the objects of their judgments, “to judge (a) nonsense” becomes possible. Wittgenstein must have found it unbearable to defend such an account and vehemently wrote in the second entry for 1 May 1915 that “[s]cepticism is not irrefutable, but obviously nonsensical”. What is at issue is that we cannot form any representation of what could

Wittgenstein Reads Nietzsche  33 be the putative success of the radical doubt advanced by the sceptic. The question “Does the external world exist?” is a pseudo-question. There is nothing that I expect to be answered as there is no room for a negative answer. The confirmation that the sceptic was right in doubting about the existence of the external world is not articulable in any way. “Oh yeah, you’re right” is not an option here for it does not result in portraying a possible state of affairs. Scepticism is consequently far from being “practically barren”, as Russell thought, since if it were so it would nonetheless be something meaningful. That scepticism may “give a certain flavour of hesitancy to our beliefs” is not because we cannot logically refute it but rather because we fail to recognize the nonsense of the sequences of words that only apparently challenge our worldview. Hence, scepticism has by no means the capacity “to substitute” our most deeply rooted beliefs for new beliefs, not in virtue of a real-world inapplicability but as a result of there being no alternative to our way of thinking. If Wittgenstein read Nietzsche’s Human, All Too Human before May 1915, as the correspondence with his sister Hermine somehow suggests,99 we can well imagine his resistance to passages in which Nietzsche highlights a sceptical attitude in both the first volume100 and the second, as the opening section of the aforementioned Preface illustrates with its defence of “moral scepticism” and the view that nothing is worth believing in any longer.101 It is now time to give a philological demonstration that Wittgenstein’s entries for 1 May 1915 should be read in the context of his opposition to Russell’s MRTJ and that therein lies the key to understanding why scepticism is nonsense. Proposition 6.51 was inserted on page 50 of MS 104 at a time when only one of the other 6s had been registered in the notebook: proposition 6 itself on page 3 (about the “general form of truth-function”).102 There is something missing here because 6.51 cannot follow from 6. But there is one proposition in the Prototractatus that puts us on the right track: the equivalent there of the above-discussed 5.5422 of the Tractatus that so sharply criticizes Russell’s MRTJ for making it possible “to judge a nonsense”. This proposition was numbered 6.0043 and inserted on page 75 of MS 104. It is the corollary of a series of propositions that specifically address Russell’s MRTJ, namely 6.003, 6.004, 6.0041 and 6.0042, inserted in a row on pages 74 and 75.103 Among these, proposition 6.0041 of the Prototractatus, the first paragraph of 5.5421 of the Tractatus, is particularly interesting because, after criticizing “modern epistemology” – including not only Russell but also Moore – at the end of 6.003, the final paragraph of 5.541 of the Tractatus, Wittgenstein brings the “subject” into the discussion. I quote from the final version: This shows that there is no such thing as the soul – the subject, etc. – as it is conceived in contemporary superficial psychology.104

34  Nuno Venturinha This seems to be related to the claim made in the final solipsistic remark for 23 May 1915 (discussed in §I), in which Wittgenstein talks about “a method of isolating the subject, or rather of showing that in an important sense there is no such thing as the subject”,105 and (as observed in §II) the insertion of this remark on page 76 under the number 5.33541 is a clear indication that the matters are indeed related – regardless of inevitable changes in the author’s thought over time. I mentioned earlier (§V) that the only remark in Wittgenstein’s diaries that contains the word “mystical” was penned on 25 May 1915 and inserted later, actually without its opening sentence, in MS 104 on page 76 just before proposition 5.33541, bearing the number 6.52 in both the Prototractatus and the Tractatus. The omitted opening of the diary entry – that “[t]he urge towards the mystical comes of the non-satisfaction of our wishes by science”106 – receives important light against the background of Russell’s Our Knowledge of the External World, which in Lecture I offers a “justification of the scientific as against the mystical attitude”.107 We may therefore assume that Wittgenstein is responding to Russell when he says, to quote from the final versions of the remark, that “even if all possible scientific questions be answered, our problems of life have still not been touched at all”.108 That this is so becomes manifest when we see that the proposition inserted immediately before 6.52 in MS 104 on pages 75 and 76 is neither more nor less than 6.5, a number retained in the Tractatus. It brings us back to the main issue of 6.51, which it is meant to preface: For an answer which cannot be expressed the question too cannot be expressed. The riddle does not exist. If a question can be put at all, then it can also be answered.109 If we take into account that proposition 6.5 is preceded on page 75 of MS 104 by the aforementioned propositions 6.41 (about “the sense of the world” not lying in it),110 6.42 (about the incapacity of our propositions to “express anything higher”)111 and 6.43, numbered 6.522 in the Tractatus (about “the inexpressible” and “the mystical”),112 and that these, in turn, are preceded by proposition 6.0043 (about Russell’s MRTJ), the circle is finally closed. It is only at this point in the manuscript of the Prototractatus that the remark on scepticism becomes fully coherent and comprehensible. Diamond seems to have been alone in observing that “[t]he number of the remark about skepticism was plainly not originally 6.51”; she sensibly writes: “it looks to me as if it may have been 6.001, but it is hard to say.”113 It is definitely hard to say given that the number was corrected various times, as can be seen in Figure 1.1.

Wittgenstein Reads Nietzsche  35

Figure 1.1 Detail of fol. 50 of MS 104 (BNE, http://www.wittgensteinsource.org/ BFE/Ms-104,50_f). With the kind permission of The Master and Fellows of Trinity College, Cambridge; The Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford; The University of Bergen, Bergen.

It is plausible that when the proposition was inserted on page 50 Wittgenstein had not yet assigned a number to it114 or had followed the procedure we find on page 79 where the first ramification of proposition 5 is numbered 5.00.115 If he did so, the number 6.00 may have been (properly) corrected to 6.001 when propositions 6.01 and 6.02 (about the “general form of the operation” and the “general form of the cardinal number”) were inserted at the bottom of page 70.116 But the insertion of propositions 6.001 and 6.002 on page 74,117 right before the series 6.003–6.0043 on pages 74 and 75, made it necessary to correct the numbering again. Our 6.001 may have been then made 6.401 thus following a 6.3 on page 71 (about propositions being “of equal value”).118 But when, after the insertion of what was then 6.31, 6.32 and 6.33 on page 75,119 what is now proposition 6.5 was inserted at the bottom of page 75 under the number 6.4,120 our 6.401 became 6.411. Finally, when Wittgenstein decided to add a series on mathematics from page 101 onwards and that this should be the 6.2s, to follow the 6.1s on logic, the series on science that formed by then the 6.2s was corrected to 6.3s, the series on value that formed the 6.3s was corrected to 6.4s and the 6.4s turned into 6.5s with our 6.411 becoming 6.511. The exact sequence of these corrections is, to some extent, a matter of speculation. But this analysis gives a substantive account of the reason why Wittgenstein could not accept scepticism, or solipsism, as a viable position as the epistemic reading needs to assume. The engagement with sceptical or solipsistic arguments has the advantage of getting us closer to our inner self, but that can only result in an ethical or religious transformation. It

36  Nuno Venturinha does not bring about a change in our fundamental epistemological beliefs for the simple reason that, in this sphere, there is nothing to change. The early Wittgenstein could not disagree more with Nietzsche in this regard and the later Wittgenstein, despite the profound differences in terms of philosophical approach to the author of the Tractatus, would endorse similar views. A defence of such a continuity lies however outside the scope of this essay. Acknowledgements Earlier versions of this essay were published as “Wittgenstein on Nietzsche and Solipsism”, in Ludwig Wittgenstein – “przydzielony do Krokowa”/“Krakau zugeteilt”, ed. Józef Bremer and Josef Rothhaupt (Cracow: Ignatianum, 2009), 479–97, and, with revisions, as “Wittgenstein Reads Nietzsche: The Roots of Tractarian Solipsism”, in Ungesellige Geselligkeiten: Wittgensteins Umgang mit anderen Denkern/Unsocial Sociabilities: Wittgenstein's Sources, ed. Esther Ramharter (Berlin: Parerga, 2011), 59–74. My thanks to the editors, including Jens Kertscher as coeditor of the Wittgensteiniana series, as well as to Andrew Lugg for extensive comments on a draft of the original paper and to Richard Schmitt for insightful comments on its last quotation. Thanks also to the participants in a conference in Cracow in 2008 and in a seminar in Åbo in 2009 for their valuable comments on previous versions. I owe particular thanks to Luciano Bazzocchi, Martin Pilch and Shunichi Takagi for many incisive comments on a draft of this revised version, especially on the Afterword. Finally, I wish to express my deepest gratitude to the editors of this volume, Shunichi Takagi and Pascal Zambito, for their interest in a new publication of my essay. Notes 1 MS 102, 39v–41v; GT, 8.12.14, my translation. In quoting from the Nachlass, I have added to the linear transcription offered by the Wittgenstein Archives at the University of Bergen (IDP) some features of the diplomatic transcription, namely original supralinear insertions. 2 See in this regard Baum in GT, 49, n. 67. I say “apparently” because, as Brusotti (2009, 341–2) points out, it is not clear which edition Wittgenstein read, although Brusotti recognizes that researchers have tended to agree that it was the so-called Großoktavausgabe of Nietzsche’s Werke, not the Taschenausgabe, which included Beyond Good and Evil and On the Genealogy of Morality. 3 WC, 83. 4 Cf. MS 102, 71v–73v; GT, 1–24.5.15 (with many gaps). 5 Cf. MS 102, 81r–117r; NB, 1–31.5.15. It is worth noting that, even though Wittgenstein’s bipartite way of writing in this period does not raise so many

Wittgenstein Reads Nietzsche  37 difficulties as in the later one, certainly attempting to differentiate, whenever possible, the private from the public, there remain some questions about the nature of some remarks, namely the one on Nietzsche. In this essay, I cannot go into details, but I hope to contribute to clarify the matter. For a nice discussion of this problem, see Westergaard 1998, 145–7. Westergaard also traces some interesting parallels between Wittgenstein and Nietzsche in Westergaard 2007. See in addition Nájera 2008. 6 MS 102, 101r–102r; NB, 23.5.15[1–4], translation slightly amended. 7 MS 102, 105r; NB, 23.5.15[11], cancellation added and translation slightly amended. 8 See, among other texts, McGuinness 2002a, Ch. 23, and McGuinness 2002b, as well as Venturinha 2010, §§1, 3 and 12. 9 It remained unchanged in the Tractatus: “Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent.” Wittgenstein’s words are: “Wovon man nicht sprechen kann, darüber muß man schweigen.” It is of some interest to note that a letter from Hermine Wittgenstein to her brother of 7 June 1917 contains in Ludwig’s hand a version of proposition 7: “Worüber man nicht reden kann, darüber muß man schweigen.” (CC) Another version of these remarks occurs in the preface: “… wovon man nicht reden kann, darüber muß man schweigen.” (MS 104, 119; TLP 1922, 26) 10 It carries the number 6.3 and reads: “Ethics does not consist of propositions.” Here I have followed McGuinness’ translation in PTLP, x, n. 3. 11 MS 104, 59–60; PTLP, 5.335, 5.3351–4; TLP, 5.6, 5.62[1–3], 5.631[1]. These quotations are drawn from the Anscombe translation of the Notebooks, the Pears and McGuinness translation of the Prototractatus and the Ogden (and Ramsey) translation of the Tractatus with some emendation and combination. I have followed the editors of the Prototractatus, using square brackets to indicate additions or alterations in the Tractatus. 12 The Tractatus makes things even more puzzling because it includes a 5.61 consisting of four paragraphs, numbered 5.4041, 5.4042, 5.4043 and 5.40421 in the Prototractatus. These, however, have been inserted in MS 104 only on pages 90 (the latter) and 91, corresponding, as it will become clear in a moment, to an afterthought. Quoting from the final version: “Logic fills the world: the limits of the world are also its limits. | We cannot therefore say in logic: This and this there is in the world, that there is not. | For that would apparently presuppose that we exclude certain possibilities, and this cannot be the case since otherwise logic must get outside the limits of the world: that is, if it could consider these limits from the other side also. | What we cannot think, that we cannot think: we cannot therefore say what we cannot think.” It is on the basis of this proposition that Marie McGinn explores an interpretation of Wittgenstein’s discussion of solipsism as a response to Russell’s conception of the relation between the subject and the world in McGinn 2006. She argues that “it is Wittgenstein’s reflections on the nature and status of logic, and, in particular, his rejection of Russell’s idea that logic has something to do with how the world is – i.e. with a question of existence or non-existence – that provides the key to his reflections on solipsism” (268). For another expression of this epistemological interpretation, see Diamond 2000. My aim in this essay is to develop an alternative interpretative line. 13 See Hacker 1986, 91–2. 14 See Pears 1986, 179 and 182–3, as well as Pears 1987, 163 and 168, n. 50. See also Morris 2008, 305.

38  Nuno Venturinha 15 See Schulte 1995, 229–30. 16 Cf. MS 103, 30r; NB, 24.7.16[1, 4]. 17 MS 103, 30r; NB, 24.7.16[2–3]. 18 MS 104, 83; PTLP, 6.422; TLP, 6.421[2]. 19 Cf. MS 103, 37r; NB, 30.7.16[6]. Here Wittgenstein employs the adjective “transcendent” (transzendent) instead of “transcendental” (transzendental). 20 The notes of 11 June deserve to be quoted in full: “What do I know about God and the purpose of life? | I know that this world exists. | That I am placed in it like my eye in its visual field. | That something about it is problematic, which we call its sense. | That this sense does not lie in it but outside it. | That life is the world. | That my will penetrates the world. | That my will is good or evil. | Therefore that my will good and evil are somehow connected with the sense of the world. | The sense of life, i.e. the sense of the world, we can call God. | And connect with this the comparison of God to a father. | To pray is to think about the sense of life. | I cannot bend the happenings of the world to my will: I am completely powerless. | I can only make myself independent of the world – and so in a certain sense master it – by renouncing any influence on happenings.” (MS 103, 8r–10r; NB, 11.6.16, cancellation added and translation slightly amended) This long chain of thoughts will have also influenced proposition 6.41 of page 75 of MS 104, which coincides with 6.41 of the Tractatus. It reads: “The sense of the world must lie outside the world. In the world everything is as it is and happens as it does happen. In it there is no value – and if there were, it would be of no value. | If there is a value which is of value, it must lie outside all happening and being-so. For all happening and being-so is accidental. | What makes it non-accidental cannot lie in the world, for otherwise this would again be accidental. | It must lie outside the world.” It is worth mentioning that proposition 6.4 (“All propositions are of equal value”), lying in MS 104, on page 71, between the rubbed out 6.3 and number 7, opens, both in the Prototractatus and the Tractatus, the ethical debate. 21 Cf. MS 104, 83; PTLP, 6.421; TLP, 6.421[1]. 22 Cf. MS 103, 36r; NB, 30.7.16[3b]. 23 MS 104, 75; PTLP, 6.42; TLP, 6.42. 24 MS 103, 39r; NB, 2.8.16[7a]. 25 MS 103, 37r; NB, 1.8.16[1–2]. The German reads: “Wie sich alles verhält, ist Gott. | Gott ist, wie sich alles verhält.” It is interesting to compare this with how Wittgenstein characterizes in the Prototractatus the “most general propositional form” as: “This is how things stand (Es verhält sich so und so).” (MS 104, 46; PTLP, 4.4303a) This corresponds to 4.5[3]b in the Tractatus, where Wittgenstein speaks instead of the “general form of proposition”. 26 MS 103, 37r; NB, 1.8.16[3]. 27 In full the remark is: “And this consciousness is life itself.” (MS 103, 37r; NB, 2.8.16[1]) 28 MS 104, 83; PTLP, 6.4411; TLP, 6.43[3]. 29 Cf. MS 103, 33r; NB, 29.7.16[12]. 30 Cf. MS 104, 84; PTLP, 6.4412; TLP, 6.422. This is a completely different view from the one that we find in Nietzsche’s reflections on the same topic, for example in The Antichrist (cf. KSA 6, 194–5, 205 and 228). 31 Cf. MS 103, 34r–35r; NB, 30.7.16[1]. 32 MS 103, 35r–37r; NB, 30.7.16[2, 4–5], translation slightly amended. Note that here the adjective used by Wittgenstein is transzendent (see n. 19 above).

Wittgenstein Reads Nietzsche  39 33 I am here borrowing an expression (Wille zur Macht) that comes, among other texts, in The Case of Wagner, The Twilight of the Idols and The Antichrist (cf. KSA 6, 51, 118, 124 and 157, as well as 170, 172, 176 and 183, respectively). 34 He puts it as follows: “Certainly it is correct to say: Conscience is the voice of God.” (MS 103, 20r; NB, 8.7.16[21]) The “good conscience” (gute Gewissen) is obviously one of Nietzsche’s targets in the volume Wittgenstein apparently refers to in his remark of 8 December 1914, namely in The Case of Wagner, The Twilight of the Idols and The Antichrist (cf. KSA 6, 52, 84 and 94 [where it parenthetically qualifies the “consciousness of good actions” (Bewusstsein guter Handlungen)], as well as 175 and 193, respectively). Wittgenstein’s remark on Nietzsche is actually suggestive of this passage from The Twilight of the Idols, which would lead to a criticism of the “good conscience”: “The spiritualization of sensibility is called love: it is a great triumph over Christianity (Christenthum). Another triumph is our spiritualization of hostility (Feindschaft).” (KSA 6, 84, my translation) 35 MS 103, 40r; NB, 2.8.16[11], cancellation added. 36 MS 103, 42r; NB, 5.8.16[2]. 37 MS 103, 41r; NB, 4.8.16[2–3], insertion added. 38 MS 103, 41r; NB, 5.8.16[1]. 39 MS 103, 42r–43r; NB, 5.8.16[3–4], 7.8.16, 11.8.16[1–2], 12.8.16[1], insertion added, translation slightly amended. 40 MS 103, 50r–51r; NB, 2.9.16[6]. 41 The diary version is found in MS 103, 48r–49r; NB, 2.9.16[1]. 42 Indeed, the proposition is astonishingly numbered 5.33544a. 43 MS 103, 43r–44r; NB, 12.8.16[3–4]. 44 There Wittgenstein wrote: “It is true: Man is the microcosm: | I am my world.” (MS 103, 59r; NB, 12.10.16[7]) Luciano Bazzocchi (personal communication, 26 April 2022) is of the opinion that we can better capture the sense of “Here” in proposition 5.3355 of the Prototractatus if we look at proposition 5.3354 (which denies the existence of “the thinking, representing subject”), itself stemming from 5.3353 (that “the world is my world”), a sequence that the Tractatus simplifies by making proposition 5.64 a direct ramification of 5.63 (that “I am my world”). This is perspicuously presented in his tree-like edition of the text (TLP 2021, 204). The problem with this reading is that it does not take into account that the “Here” was already present in the diary entry of 2 September 1916 and therefore it is particularly difficult to explain it by reference to a proposition like 5.63 that not only on page 85 of MS 104, under the number 5.33532, follows, not precedes, the equivalent of 5.64, 5.3355, but also has its original source in an entry dated 12 October 1916. 45 MS 104, 85; PTLP, 6.431; TLP, 6.45[1]. 46 MS 104, 86; PTLP, 6.432; TLP, 6.45[2]. 47 MS 104, 75; PTLP, 6.43; TLP, 6.522. 48 It runs as follows: “The urge towards the mystical comes of the n ­ on-satisfaction of our wishes by science. We know feel that even if all possible scientific ­questions are answered our problem is still not touched at all. Of course in that case there are no questions any more; and that is the answer.” (MS 102, 107r–108r; NB, 25.5.15[2], cancellation added) 49 Cf. MS 104, 76; PTLP, 6.52; TLP, 6.52. 50 Hacker 1986, 99. 51 See McGuinness 2002a, Ch. 14.

40  Nuno Venturinha 52 Hacker 1986, 99, n. 17. 53 On this issue, see a letter from Bertrand Russell to Lady Ottoline Morrell of 20 December 1919, quoted in WC, 112, and Russell 1997, 178–9. See also a reference by Wittgenstein to Silesius’ Cherubinic Wanderer in an entry dated 22 February 1931 in MS 183, 68; PPO, 77. 54 For a related reading, see Kremer 2004, 59–84. At the beginning of this essay, he claims that readings of the Tractatus “have tended to focus on solipsism as an epistemological or metaphysical thesis” (59). He then says that “[his] approach is suggested by a remark of Brian McGuinness, that ‘solipsism […] in his [Wittgenstein’s] case was not an intellectual exercise but a moral and mystical attitude’” – cf. McGuinness 2005, 228; and see McGuinness 2002a, Ch. 13 – writing a bit further on that “[he] would prefer to say that solipsism is an intellectual, moral and mystical exercise aimed at bringing about a change in one’s spiritual life” (59). To support this view, Kremer contrasts “Hacker’s irresolute reading of the Tractatus” (64) with that offered by authors such as Cora Diamond and James Conant. This, however, is not to say that I am endorsing here the latter line of interpretation, which, as a matter of fact, is hard to reconcile with Kremer’s. For a more orthodox “resolute” reading, see McManus 2004, 137–61. 55 Here is a representative passage from WWR, Vol. 1: “[…] whether the objects known to the individual only as representations are yet, like his own body, phenomena of a will, is […] the proper meaning of the question as to the reality of the external world. To deny this is the meaning of theoretical egoism, which in this way regards as phantoms all phenomena outside its own will, just as practical egoism does in a practical respect; thus in it a man regards and treats only his own person as a real person, and all others as mere phantoms. Theoretical egoism, of course, can never be refuted by proofs, yet in philosophy it has never been positively used otherwise than as a sceptical sophism, i.e., for the sake of appearance. As a serious conviction, on the other hand, it could be found only in a madhouse; as such it would then need not so much a refutation as a cure. Therefore we do not go into it any further, but regard it as the last stronghold of scepticism, which is always polemical.” (104) See in addition WWR, Vol. 2, 193. “Scepticism” is a word that enters into Wittgenstein’s notebooks also in May 1915. Like Schopenhauer, Wittgenstein holds it as “obviously nonsensical” (cf. MS 102, 81r; NB, 1.5.15[2], translation slightly amended), but neither that remark nor the one that follows it, which talks of “doubt” (cf. MS 102, 81r–82r; NB, 1.5.15[3]), were selected for the solipsistic “chapters” of the Prototractatus and the Tractatus. Still, the proposition that derives from those remarks, having made its way into page 50 of MS 104 under the number 6.51, a number kept in the Tractatus, prefaces, in both texts, proposition 6.52. I should point out here that propositions 6.53 and 6.531, numbered 6.53 in the Tractatus, about the “right method of philosophy”, stemming from two remarks of 2 December 1916 (cf. MS 103, 88r–89r; NB, 2.12.16[3–4]), come in MS 104 on page 85 immediately after proposition 6.431, the first paragraph of 6.45 of the Tractatus, being followed by propositions 6.54 and 6.55, which form a single penultimate 6.54 in the Tractatus. This sequence ends, in MS 104, with proposition 6.432, the second paragraph of 6.45 of the Tractatus. 56 See, for example, KSA 6, 125 and 131–2 (from The Twilight of the Idols), as well as 187 (from The Antichrist). 57 See AHW, 70–73.

Wittgenstein Reads Nietzsche  41 58 See CC. 59 See n. 9 above. 60 KSA 2, 369, my translation. Nietzsche’s own words run as follows: “Man soll nur reden, wo man nicht schweigen darf; und nur von dem reden, was man überwunden hat, – alles Andere ist Geschwätz, ‘Litteratur’, Mangel an Zucht.” Martin Pilch has recently taken up this suggestion tracing also parallels between another passage from Nietzsche’s preface and proposition 6.54 of the Prototractatus. See Pilch 2018, 102ff, esp. 109. 61 “Knowledge by Acquaintance and Knowledge by Description”, in Russell 1992, 148. These passages were not included in the chapter with the same title published by Russell in The Problems of Philosophy (Russell 1992, Ch. V). This is a book that we know Wittgenstein read (see Slater’s “Introduction” to Russell 1992, xxviii) and which includes a discussion of “solipsism” (Russell’s word in the Index) in Ch. II, “The Existence of Matter”, 33–38. The topic is related to that of a 1912 paper Wittgenstein also read in which Russell mentions that “the problem of matter is involved in any attempt to refute solipsism” and that “if we are to refute solipsism, it must be by first finding some reason to believe in matter”. See “On Matter”, in Russell 1992, 80–81. 62 Russell 1992, 148. 63 MS 103, 64r; NB, 15.10.16[19]. 64 Pihlström 2020, 2. 65 Ibid., 2–3. 66 Ibid., 3. 67 Levine 2013, 200. Levine introduces his notation on page 181 in the following way: ~(Solip) (∃y)(I am not now acquainted with y) (Solip) ~(∃y)(I am not now acquainted with y)

[(∃y)(~Ay)] [~(∃y)(~Ay)]

Whereas the former proposition mentions that “there is something outside my present experience”, the latter vindicates that “there is nothing outside of my present experience” (ibid.). 68 Ibid., 201. 69 See n. 55 above. 70 I have followed here the Pears-McGuinness translation of the Prototractatus for the expression “offenbar unsinnig”, which the Ogden translation renders as “palpably senseless”. Anscombe’s option in the Notebooks, where the expression appears underlined, is “obvious nonsense”. 71 See MS 104, 45; PTLP, 4.448; TLP, 4.461[3]. 72 See MS 104, 38; PTLP, 4.4481; TLP, 4.4611. 73 See MS 104, 45; PTLP, 4.4482; TLP, 4.462[1], translation slightly amended. 74 MS 104, 36; PTLP, 4.44602. The nearest we have in the Tractatus comes in 6.1 and 6.11, which were inserted on page 64 of MS 104 forming propositions 6.1 and 6.1001 of the Prototractatus. The first states: “The propositions of logic are tautologies.” And the second: “The propositions of logic therefore say nothing. (They are the analytical propositions.)” 75 See Cook 2000, 167–79; Diamond 2014, 148–53; and Takagi 2021, 50–62. 76 Russell 1914a. 77 MS 102, 82r–83r; NB, 1.5.15[7]. I have rendered the reference to Russell’s work in accordance with the original merely correcting the German Methode to the English Method in what was certainly a slip of the pen.

42  Nuno Venturinha 78 Russell 1914b. The title of the lecture, as indicated on page 3 and in the running heads, is actually “On Scientific Method in Philosophy”. 79 See Cook 2000, 216, n. 10, and Takagi 2021, 55–7. 80 She writes: “I think Keynes sent [Our Knowledge of the External World] to Wittgenstein together with Russell’s essay “On Scientific Method in Philosophy”, and that Wittgenstein received the book and the essay some time in March or April.” (Diamond 2014, 148) However, on the next page Diamond notes that “[t]he matter is subject to some uncertainty” and that “[i]f Wittgenstein did receive the material from Keynes, it is possible that Keynes sent only the book, not the essay, and possible also that it was easier for him to arrange for the book to be sent from a neutral country and that the American edition was sent” (149, n. 9). 81 WC, 78. 82 WC, 79. The same request was made to David Pinsent who wrote to Wittgenstein on 2 March 1915, in reply to a letter dated 10 February, in the following terms: “I have not heard of Russell’s new book, but will try to find out about it and if possible send it to you.” (LP, 100) Even if there is no trace in their correspondence that Pinsent had sent Wittgenstein the book, Takagi does not exclude this possibility. See Takagi 2021, 50–51. The 1914 paper “The Relation of Sense-Data to Physics”, which Russell himself sent to Wittgenstein in a letter dated 28 July but received no earlier than December 1914 (see WC, 76), has certainly reignited Wittgenstein’s interest in Russell’s work. One might even wonder whether the adjective “solipsistic” – or the expression “le point de vue ‘solipsistique’” that translates the noun “solipsism” in the French version accompanying the original – is related to “the strictly solipsistic point of view” mentioned in the remark on Nietzsche of 8 December 1914. See “The Relation of Sense-Data to Physics”, in Russell 1986, 12–13 and 372. However, the fact that Wittgenstein wrote the remark on Nietzsche before joining the artillery workshop in Cracow, of which he already gives the address to Russell (see WC, 76), excludes such a supposition. 83 See in this regard Blackwell and Ruja 1994, 45–7 and 52–3. Takagi is also convinced that what Wittgenstein received was the first British edition of Our Knowledge of the External World even though he does not rule out as possibilities the first American edition or even the second impression (personal communication, 13 April 2022). However, this latter hypothesis does not match the apparent publication of that reprint in September 1915 (see ibid., 47). 84 The unfinished text was posthumously published in Russell 1984. Interestingly, the first chapter contains an extensive discussion of “the principles of solipsism”, which Russell attempts to refute by means of both “empirical” and “logical” arguments (see 10–14). 85 In a letter to Ottoline Morrell dated 21 May 1913 Russell reports that Wittgenstein made a “refutation of the theory of judgment which I used to hold” (quoted in Eames’s “Introduction” to Russell 1984, xxvii). This passage of a letter from Wittgenstein to Russell of 22 July 1913 is also illuminating: “I am very sorry to hear that my objection to your theory of judgment paralyses you. I think it can only be removed by a correct theory of propositions.” (WC, 42) 86 TS 201a1, a4; TS 201a2, a5; NL, 288 [C39]. A similar statement is found in this remark: “Every right theory of judgment must make it impossible for me to judge that this table penholders the book. Russell’s theory does not satisfy this requirement.” (TS 201a1, b15; TS 201a2, b15; NL, 280 [B33]) He also

Wittgenstein Reads Nietzsche  43 says there: “The epistemological questions concerning the nature of judgment and belief cannot be solved without a correct apprehension of the form of the proposition.” (TS 201a1, b20; TS 201a2, b21; NL, 283 [B55]) 87 Russell 1992, 122. 88 Ibid. 89 Here is an illustrative passage: “a judgment, as an occurrence, I take to be a relation of a mind to several entities, namely the entities which compose what is judged.” (Ibid., 154) 90 In the first chapter of the second part, devoted to “The Understanding of Propositions”, Russell avers that a “very important relation which comes under the head of knowledge of propositions is belief or judgment” and in the fourth chapter, “Belief, Disbelief, and Doubt”, he makes clear that with the word “belief” he envisages “the same kind of fact as is usually called ‘judgment’” (Russell 1984, 105 and 136). 91 Ibid., 137. 92 Ibid., 140. 93 “The Nature of Sense-Data: A Reply to Dr. Dawes Hicks”, in Russell 1992, 184. 94 Russell 1914a, 58. 95 Ibid., 67. See in addition 71. 96 Conversely, that Wittgenstein’s rejection of Russell’s MRTJ can be illuminated by a consideration of proposition 6.51 has passed unnoticed in the literature. Some notable examples include Hanks 2007; Potter 2008, 118–31 and 218–23; and Connelly 2021. 97 See n. 67 above. 98 In commenting specifically on “Russell’s Theory of Types”, Wittgenstein writes that “Russell’s error is shown by the fact that in drawing up his symbolic rules he has to speak about the things his signs mean” (MS 104, 55; PTLP, 3.20152b; TLP, 3.331). See in addition MS 104, 34; PTLP, 3.20171; TLP, 3.332. 99 See n. 58 above. 100 See, for example, KSA 2, 42 [§21] and 217 [§261]. 101 See KSA 2, 370. 102 MS 104, 3; PTLP, 6; TLP, 6[1]. Not only the formulae for the “general form of truth-function” are different in the two versions but there is also a second paragraph in the final one that is truly reminiscent of proposition 4.4303 of the Prototractatus, 4.5 of the Tractatus (see n. 25 above): “This is the general form of proposition.” Following Luciano Bazzocchi, one could even put forward the hypothesis that proposition 6 is a subsequent addition to page 3 of the manuscript, which features the main propositions of the work except the final one. See Bazzocchi 2007, where he writes that proposition 6 was “almost surely inserted in the first page [i.e. page 3] much later” (19); and see also Bazzocchi 2010, where he conjectures in a more precise way that when Wittgenstein reached page 70 and formulated what is now proposition 6 on page 3 “he transformed the old section 6 into 6.1” (19). In this scenario, other conjectures are possible: proposition 6 could have been formulated for the first time on page 3 when proposition 6.1 was inserted on page 64 (see Bazzocchi 2010, 15, and n. 74 above) or proposition 6.51 could have been originally numbered 6. However, the recent discovery by Martin Pilch of what must have been an additional folio just before page 3 that was cut out from the notebook, which contains a previous version of propositions 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

44  Nuno Venturinha and 6, but without numbers, seems to rule out the hypothesis of proposition 6 being a later insertion. See Pilch 2015, where he claims that “proposition 6 was, from the beginning, an integral part of the conception formulated by the six main propositions” and that initially “only the formula was missing, not the entire proposition” (71). As a result of this finding, Bazzocchi would change his mind subscribing to Pilch’s view. See Bazzocchi 2015, esp. 358. 103 See MS 104, 74–5; PTLP, 6.003, 6.004, 6.0041, 6.0042 and 6.0043. They correspond in the Tractatus to propositions 5.541[2–4], 5.542, 5.5421[1], 5.5421[2] and 5.5422. 104 We should not forget that already in the “Notes on Logic” we find Wittgenstein’s not particularly appealing claim that, in contrast to logic, “[e]pistemology is the philosophy of psychology” (TS 201a1, b21; TS 201a2, b22; NL, 283 [B62]), something repeated in both the Prototractatus and the Tractatus (MS 104, 33; PTLP, 4.100152; TLP, 4.1121[2]). 105 See n. 7 above. 106 See n. 48 above. 107 Russell 1914a, 19. Russell uses the phrase “scientific attitude” in other passages (see 6, 19–20 and 27). On the parallels between the 25 May entry and Russell’s Our Knowledge of the External World, see also Takagi 2021, 54. 108 MS 104, 76; PTLP, 6.52; TLP, 6.52, translation slightly amended, italics corrected and superscript added according to the manuscript. 109 MS 104, 75–6; PTLP, 6.5; TLP, 6.5. 110 See n. 20 above. 111 See n. 23 above. 112 See n. 47 above. 113 Diamond 2014, 165, n. 40. 114 Besides the unnumbered remark on page 84 that was mentioned in §III, Wittgenstein did not assign a number to remarks on pages 29, 35, 43, 86 and 93 of MS 104. None of them made their way into the Tractatus. 115 The editors of the Prototractatus write: “The number is incomplete. The place of the remark is probably between 5.00161 and 5.00162 or after 5.00162.” (PTLP, 136, n. 1) I am indebted to Martin Pilch for reminding me of this proposition. 116 MS 104, 70; PTLP, 6.01 and 6.02; TLP, 6.01[1] and 6.03. The formulae are again different in the two versions, with the final version of 6.01 including a second paragraph that reads: “This is the most general form of transition from one proposition to another”. It is only at this juncture that Wittgenstein will have been able to sketch the formula included in proposition 6 (see n. 102 above). 117 MS 104, 74; PTLP, 6.001 and 6.002; TLP, 5.54 and 5.541[1]. 118 See n. 20 above. 119 See n. 20, n. 23 and n. 47 above. 120 I assume that it was originally a 6.4. Although it looks like there is a “4” beneath the “6”, this may have been a slip of the pen when writing “6.4”.

References Bazzocchi, Luciano. (2007). “A Database for a Prototractatus Structural Analysis and the Hypertext Version of Wittgenstein’s Tractatus”. In Philosophy of the Information Society: Papers of the 30th International Wittgenstein Symposium, edited by Herbert Hrachovec, Alois Pichler and Joseph Wang, 18–20. Kirchberg am Wechsel: Austrian Ludwig Wittgenstein Society.

Wittgenstein Reads Nietzsche  45 ———. (2010). “The Prototractatus’ Manuscript and Its Corrections”. In Wittgenstein After His Nachlass, edited by Nuno Venturinha, 11–29. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. ———. (2015). “A Better Appraisal of Wittgenstein’s Tractatus Manuscript”. Philosophical Investigations 38, no. 4: 333–59. Blackwell, Kenneth, and Harry Ruja. (1994). A Bibliography of Bertrand Russell – Volume I: Separate Publications 1896–1990. London: Routledge. Brusotti, Marco. (2009). Wittgensteins Nietzsche. Mit vergleichenden Betrachtungen zur Nietzsche-Rezeption im Wiener Kreis. Nietzsche-Studien 38: 335–62. Connelly, James R. (2021). Wittgenstein’s Critique of Russell’s Multiple Relation Theory of Judgement. London: Anthem Press. Cook, John W. (2000). Wittgenstein, Empiricism, and Language. New York: Oxford University Press. Diamond, Cora. (2000).“Does Bismarck have a Beetle in His Box? The Private Language Argument in the Tractatus”. In The New Wittgenstein, edited by Alice Crary and Rupert Read, 262–92. London: Routledge. ———. (2014). “The Hardness of the Soft: Wittgenstein’s Early Thought About Skepticism”. In Varieties of Skepticism: Essays after Kant, Wittgenstein, and Cavell, edited by James Conant and Andrea Kern, 145–81. Berlin: De Gruyter. Hacker, P. M. S. (1986). Insight and Illusion: Themes in the Philosophy of Wittgenstein, 2nd edn. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Hanks, Peter W. (2007). “How Wittgenstein Defeated Russell’s Multiple Relation Theory of Judgment”. Synthese 154: 121–46. Kremer, Michael. (2004). “To What Extent is Solipsism a Truth?” In Post-Analytic Tractatus, edited by Barry Stocker, 59–84. Aldershot: Ashgate. Levine, James. (2013). “Logic and Solipsism”. In Wittgenstein’s Tractatus: History and Interpretation, edited by Peter Sullivan and Michael Potter, 170–238. Oxford: Oxford University Press. McGinn, Marie. (2006). Elucidating the Tractatus: Wittgenstein’s Early Philosophy of Logic and Language. Oxford: Clarendon Press. McGuinness, Brian. (2002a). Approaches to Wittgenstein: Collected Papers. London: Routledge. ———. (2002b). “Wittgenstein’s 1916 ‘Abhandlung’”. In Wittgenstein and the Future of Philosophy – A Reassessment after 50 Years: Proceedings of the 24th International Wittgenstein-Symposium, edited by Rudolf Haller and Klaus Puhl, 272–82. Vienna: öbv&hpt. ———. (2005). Young Ludwig: Wittgenstein’s Life 1889–1921, 2nd edn. Oxford: Clarendon Press. McManus, Denis. (2004). “Solipsism and Scepticism in the Tractatus”. In Wittgenstein and Scepticism, edited by Denis McManus, 137–61. London: Routledge. Morris, Michael. (2008). Routledge Philosophy Guidebook to Wittgenstein and the Tractatus. London: Routledge. Nájera, Elena. (2008). “The Writing of Nietzsche and Wittgenstein”. In Reduction and Elimination in Philosophy and the Sciences: Papers of the 31st International Wittgenstein Symposium, edited by Alexander Hieke and Hannes Leitgeb, 241–3. Kirchberg am Wechsel: Austrian Ludwig Wittgenstein Society.

46  Nuno Venturinha Pears, David. (1986). “Wittgenstein’s Treatment of Solipsism in the Tractatus”. In Ludwig Wittgenstein: Critical Assessments, vol. 1, edited by Stuart Shanker, 170–84. London: Croom Helm. ———. (1987) The False Prison: A Study of the Development of Wittgenstein’s Philosophy, vol. 1. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Pihlström, Sami. (2020). Why Solipsism Matters. London: Bloomsbury. Pilch, Martin. (2015). “A Missing Folio at the Beginning of Wittgenstein’s MS 104”. Nordic Wittgenstein Review 4, no. 2: 65–97. ———. (2018). “Die Entstehung des Tractatus im 1. Weltkrieg – Nachträge zur Biographie”. In Ludwig Wittgenstein: Die Tractatus Odyssee, edited by Radmila Schweitzer, 75–114. Vienna: Wittgenstein Initiative. Potter, Michael. (2008). Wittgenstein’s Notes on Logic. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Russell, Bertrand. (1912). The Problems of Philosophy. London: Williams and Norgate. ———. (1914a). Our Knowledge of the External World as a Field for Scientific Method in Philosophy. Chicago and London: The Open Court Publishing Company. ———. (1914b). Scientific Method in Philosophy: The Herbert Spencer Lecture. Oxford: Clarendon Press. ———. (1984) Theory of Knowledge – The 1913 Manuscript: The Collected Papers of Bertrand Russell, vol. 7. Edited by Elizabeth Ramsden Eames. London: George Allen & Unwin. ———. (1986) The Philosophy of Logical Atomism and Other Essays 1914–19: The Collected Papers of Bertrand Russell, vol. 8. Edited by John G. Slater. London: George Allen & Unwin. ———. (1992). Logical and Philosophical Papers 1909–13: The Collected Papers of Bertrand Russell, vol. 6. Edited by John G. Slater. London: Routledge. ———. (1997). “Ludwig Wittgenstein”. In Last Philosophical Testament 1943– 68: The Collected Papers of Bertrand Russell, vol. 9, edited by John G. Slater, 176–9. London: Routledge. Schulte, Joachim. (1995). “A Key to Solipsism: 23.5.15”. In The British Tradition in 20th Century Philosophy: Proceedings of the 17th International WittgensteinSymposium, edited by Jaakko Hintikka and Klaus Puhl, 228–35. Vienna: Hölder-Pichler-Tempsky. Takagi, Shunichi. (2021). “Wittgenstein and the ‘Kantian Solution of the Problem of Philosophy’ (10 February 1931)”. PhD thesis. University College London. Venturinha, Nuno. (2010). Lógica, Ética, Gramática: Wittgenstein e o Método da Filosofia. Lisbon: Imprensa Nacional-Casa da Moeda. Westergaard, Peter K. (1998). “‘… predestination in St Paul, is …’: Wittgenstein’s Religious-Philosophical Notes of August–December 1937”. In Arbeiten zu Wittgenstein, edited by Wilhelm Krüger and Alois Pichler, 145–60. Bergen: Working Papers from the Wittgenstein Archives at the University of Bergen. ———. (2007). “A Note on Wittgenstein and Nietzsche”. In Philosophy of the Information Society: Papers of the 30th International Wittgenstein Symposium, edited by Herbert Hrachovec, Alois Pichler and Joseph Wang, 242–4. Kirchberg am Wechsel: Austrian Ludwig Wittgenstein Society.

2 Schlick, Wittgenstein, and Waismann Three Responses to Nietzsche Andreas Vrahimis

1 Introduction During the early days of the First World War, Nietzsche’s work became the topic of heated public controversy.1 Largely due to Elisabeth ­Förster-Nietzsche’s efforts, a selection of Nietzsche’s writings had been ­‘enlisted in the service of German war propaganda’ (Martin 2003, 367). Alongside various other books similarly marketed to soldiers, publishers printed pocket-sized editions of Nietzsche’s works (so as to fit in soldiers’ knapsacks).2 In response, British propaganda targeted Nietzsche, with ­various newspaper articles claiming that this godless immoralist was the mastermind behind Prussian militarism and its ruthless wartime a­ ggression. As with various later attempts to embroil philosophers (including e.g. Kant and the German Idealists) into wartime propaganda, a controversy ensued in which Nietzsche’s detractors were answered by his apologists, ­contending e.g. that he was in fact a critic of German nationalism.3 Though now largely forgotten, these wartime controversies would centrally shape the Anglophone reception of Nietzsche’s work, including that by most prominent analytic philosophers.4 Even though he did not participate in the wartime debates, Bertrand Russell, one of Nietzsche’s most vehement analytic critics, began to name Nietzsche as an ancestor of fascism during the 1930s (Russell 1935, 87, 89–91, 97, 99, 101, 103). Russell continued this line of attack in later works, including most famously his History of Western Philosophy (1946, 114, 677, 746, 751–752, 756, 788– 800, 818), which was published in the aftermath of the Second World War, and which blamed several of Russell’s non-analytic philosophical foes for contributing to the rise of Nazism.5 At around the same time, an array of Anglophone philosophers addressed similar attacks, in which Nietzsche was taken to be a central influence on Nazi ideology.6 It was only after considerable scholarly efforts, distancing Nietzsche from his appropriation by Nazism, that interest in his work by Anglophone analytic philosophers was revived in the latter quarter of the

DOI: 10.4324/9781003219071-4

48  Andreas Vrahimis twentieth century.7 Even with this resurgence of interest, Robertson and Owen write that ‘while Nietzsche undoubtedly influenced much of socalled “continental philosophy”, his influence on its analytic counterpart may appear to be somewhat negligible’ (2013, 185). This chapter will challenge this assertion by looking back to a relatively overlooked aspect of Nietzsche’s reception by three Germanophone analytic philosophers. An altogether different story concerning Nietzsche’s analytic reception comes to light if one attends to the work of Moritz Schlick, Ludwig Wittgenstein, and Friedrich Waismann. Wittgenstein’s reading of Nietzsche is an exceptional case, differing both from that of his mentor Russell and other Anglophone commentators, and those of his Germanophone interlocutors Schlick and Waismann. Fighting on the opposite side of the trenches from most of his Anglophone colleagues, Nietzsche’s books were available to Wittgenstein, as a soldier, due to their use in Germanophone wartime propaganda.8 In a note from 8 December 1914, Wittgenstein states that he purchased Volume 8 of Nietzsche’s works.9 As Brusotti (2009, 341–342) clarifies, it is unclear whether this refers to the older octavo edition or the pocket-sized edition (with different contents than the octavo) newly issued specifically for soldiers. In either case, the war brought Nietzsche’s work to Wittgenstein’s attention. Reading Nietzsche at a time of existential crisis and spiritual conversion, Wittgenstein remained sceptical of his critique of Christianity.10 He also concurred with Nietzsche’s description of modern civilisation as characterised by the transvaluation [Umwertung] of all values – a topic to which we return in section 3.11 By contrast to those Anglophone figures whose reluctance to engage with Nietzsche’s work was shaped by the wartime controversies, in the work of Moritz Schlick we find a marked resistance against the appropriation of Nietzsche’s outlook by wartime militarists, and by interwar fascism and Nazism. Long before the war began, Nietzsche’s Zarathustra was one of the first philosophy books Schlick read, alongside Schopenhauer, as an adolescent in the late 1890s – at a time when Nietzsche was still alive, and little-known.12 Despite the later appropriation of Nietzsche’s thought by militarists and fascists, Schlick maintained his early admiration of the philosopher throughout his life. Schlick (2013) plainly states his high esteem for Nietzsche in a lecture series first delivered at the University of Rostock in the winter semester of 1912–1913.13 Being called to repeat his course on Nietzsche a few months after the outbreak of the war, Schlick’s notes indicate that he opened his lectures with an extensive objection against the interpretation of Nietzsche as a defender of militarism.14 Schlick instead utilised Nietzsche’s work in support of his own pacifist stance towards the war. A variant of this interpretation of Nietzsche was also put forth in Schlick’s unfinished book from the 1930s, Natur und Kultur (1952,

Schlick, Wittgenstein, and Waismann  49 77–79). There, he derides the far-right appropriation of what he claims are the biggest errors found in Nietzsche’s otherwise genius work, namely his Herrenmoral and his ‘gospel of power’ (79). In opposition to these ­far-right readings, Schlick interpreted Nietzsche as, broadly speaking, an early proponent of the scientific world-conception defended by Logical ­ ­Empiricism. In this, he was in agreement with, and arguably influential on, several other Vienna Circle members after him.15 Schlick’s engagement with N ­ ietzsche, especially in explicitly defending him against British ­propaganda in 1914, thus clearly sets him apart from all of Nietzsche’s Anglophone analytic critics between the 1930s and 1950s. In 1928, Schlick prepared a preface to Logik, Sprache, Philosophie, Waismann’s aborted effort to write a book about Wittgenstein’s views in collaboration with Wittgenstein himself, eventually published in 1965.16 In describing Waismann’s joint effort with Wittgenstein, Schlick notes that the thoughts which are to dominate the world “come on dove’s feet”, as Nietzsche's beautiful simile has it. (1979, 130)17 Waismann’s at-least-partial awareness of Schlick’s influence by Nietzsche is evident not only in Schlick’s preface, but also in Waismann’s later description of Schlick’s ethical outlook as being ‘in conformity with Nietzsche’ (1977, 36; cf. 1979, xvii). Nevertheless, as section 6 will demonstrate, many of Waismann’s criticisms of Nietzsche’s views are at odds with Schlick’s interpretations thereof. Writing in the late 1930s (while seeking refuge from Nazism), Waismann’s severe criticisms of Nietzsche’s Herrenmoral far exceed Schlick’s brief dismissals of this aspect of Nietzsche’s outlook. It is notable, however, that Waismann also repeatedly attributes to Nietzsche an idea that is central to his own Wittgensteinian project. In his foreword to Schlick’s posthumous Gesammelte Aufsätze, Waismann summarises this view as follows: Frege declared it the task of philosophy to break the power of words over the mind, by uncovering the deceptions which almost inevitably arise from linguistic usage. Nietzsche had hold of this truth when behind the similarity of Indian, Greek and German philosophy he perceived the unconscious dominance and guidance of the same grammatical categories. (1979, xxvii)18 Waismann goes on to add that Schlick was also engaged in precisely this Nietzschean project of overcoming the ‘common philosophy of grammar’

50  Andreas Vrahimis (Waismann 1968b, 176), not by simply diagnosing ‘the meaninglessness of questions’ (1979, xxvii), but rather by ‘push[ing] forward to fruitful ways of putting questions’ (xxvii). In other words, even though Waismann was heavily critical of Nietzsche’s ethical views, he also saw him as a progenitor of one of the central tasks of analytic philosophy, insofar as it is concerned with language use. In what follows, I endeavour to bring Schlick’s, Wittgenstein’s, and Waismann’s responses to Nietzsche into dialogue. In section 2, I begin with an account of Nietzsche’s contribution to the early Schlick’s conception of the naturalisation of the different branches of philosophy, focussing primarily on ethics. I show that Schlick’s reduction of all other drives to a fundamental ‘will to pleasure’ leads him towards a criticism of Nietzsche’s emphasis on the ‘will to power’. Section 3 undertakes a comparison between Wittgenstein’s and Schlick’s readings of Nietzsche, clarifying some of their implicit interpretative disagreements. In section 4, I turn to Wittgenstein’s criticisms of Schlick’s naturalisation of ethics, followed by section 5, which explores Waismann’s reconciliation of these two standpoints in his account of the relation between science and ethics. In section 5, I explore Waismann’s connected objections against Nietzsche’s ethics. Throughout the above, I reconstruct a dialogue between these three figures and their different readings of Nietzsche’s work, in many ways exceptional within the analytic tradition.19 2 Nietzsche’s influence on Schlick’s ethics (a) Schlick’s Nietzschean naturalism

Schlick’s admiration of Nietzsche, and his pursuit of the Nietzschean project of naturalising philosophy’s various branches, especially ethics, remain a constant throughout his intellectual development.20 In Lebensweisheit, Schlick’s first published philosophy book from 1908, Nietzsche’s central influence is evident not only in the many explicit references to his work (Schlick 2006, 98, 170, 178, 181, 237, 267, 286), but also in Schlick’s literary writing style.21 Though this eventually did not materialise, it was Schlick’s original intention to preface Lebensweisheit with a motto quoted from Zarathustra;22 Schlick ([1908] 2006, 170) did eventually use a quote from Zarathustra to preface his account of the origins of scientific knowledge. At the book’s core, one finds an evolutionary theory of the development of drives [Trieben]. Like Nietzsche, Schlick uses Schopenhauerian terminology in naming these drives, e.g. the ‘will to pleasure’, the ‘will to beauty’, the ‘will to truth’, and the ‘will to power’.23 In Schlick’s account, the evolutionary emergence of these different drive-types enables the human animal to engage in multifarious types of activity, including not only

Schlick, Wittgenstein, and Waismann  51 the basic struggle for survival and the attainment of practical goals, but also the aesthetic appreciation of art, the scientific investigation of nature, various religious attitudes directed towards the world as a whole, and also the entire range of ethical attitudes towards one’s fellow humans. This biological account of drives underlies Schlick’s efforts to naturalise aesthetics, epistemology, and ethics. The appeal to evolutionary biology, physiology, and psychology in explaining the origins of drives and emotions is a project that – particularly in the case of naturalising ethics – Schlick at least partly inherits from Nietzsche. This Nietzschean influence is partly reflected in the terminology Schlick uses to describe the evolution of drives. According to Schlick, drives are products of environmental adaptation, and become entrenched through habituation. Nonetheless, as environmental factors change over time, the entrenchment of drives can become a hindrance to adaptation. Drives that had previously fulfilled advantageous functions within specific environmental conditions can become obsolete once those conditions have changed. Using Nietzsche’s verbiage, Schlick calls such vestigial attributes the ‘all-too-human’ [‘allzumenschliche’ (99)] drives. In his view, ‘all-too-human’ drives are currently being overcome by the human species. They will eventually tend towards extinction, though some may become vestigial, i.e. they may be retained while functionless, like wisdom teeth or goose-bumps. On the other end of the spectrum, Schlick detects several nascent tendencies, which form what he calls the ‘overhuman’ [‘übermenschliche’ (99)] drives. The emerging ‘overhuman’ drives are more advantageous adaptations to the environment than the ‘all-too-human’ drives that they serve to overcome. On the basis of this distinction, Schlick paints an optimistic, if not utopian, picture of the future, according to which ‘overhuman’ drives continuously improve the human species’ adaptation to its environment, thereby harmonising human culture with nature. As Schlick ([1911] 1979) sees it, this is a very gradual and slow evolutionary process, and one which he describes using Nietzsche’s terminology as the ‘transvaluation of values’ (115).24 On the basis of the above evolutionary account, Lebensweisheit develops a detailed typology of drives, carefully setting out distinctions between different domains of human activity according to the different volitions that guide them. Schlick’s typology is premised on the view that the ‘will to pleasure’ is the single fundamental drive which guides all human action. In Schlick’s view, this entails that every other drive is ultimately produced by, and aims to satisfy, the fundamental pleasure-drive. In its simplest manifestations, the will to pleasure exists in both human and non-human animals. Its primary function is to motivate actions that aim to realise practical goals conducive to the continuing survival of either an individual or even an entire species. The will to pleasure has evolved in such a way as to guide different animals’ efforts to satisfy basic needs, such

52  Andreas Vrahimis as hunger or procreation. In the human species, which Schlick takes to be at a higher stage of evolutionary development than other animals, this drive takes more complex forms involving conscious efforts toward the realisation of specific practical ends. (b) Work and play

Contrary to many of his evolutionist predecessors (including e.g. American Pragmatism or Machianism), Schlick rejected the view that all human activity eventually aspires only to the attainment of practically beneficial outcomes.25 According to Schlick, the attainment of certain basic practical requirements allows higher forms of human activity, no longer guided by purely practical considerations, to emerge. The genesis of these higher forms is, nonetheless, still explainable by the biological principle of the will to pleasure. Schlick argues that, to formulate this explanation, a basic differentiation must be drawn between two fundamentally different ways in which pleasure motivates action. For a range of activities, such as those undertaken in order to achieve specific practical goals, the activity is not itself pleasurable, but is motivated by the aspiration of a potential satisfaction of the pleasure-drive through its outcome. Such activity, undertaken for the sake of some pleasurable outcome, is what Schlick characterises as ‘work’. Nevertheless, an altogether different way in which the will to pleasure can relate to action is also possible, when it comes to what Schlick calls ‘play’. Through the gradual evolutionary process of adaptation, it becomes possible for certain activities to become pleasurable in themselves. Indeed, the same activity can be undertaken in the guise of ‘work’ and ‘play’ interchangeably, depending on the motivating role of the will to pleasure in its undertaking. In Schlick’s ([1908] 2006, 144–145) example, for most players football is a game enjoyed for its own sake but, though the activity is roughly the same, in the case of a professional ‘player’ it is in fact classifiable as work. Conversely, an activity that was undertaken as work can be transformed into play once its agent comes to enjoy it for its own sake. This is precisely the basic idea that guides Schlick’s optimism concerning the future harmonisation of culture with nature. Schlick sees the long course of human evolution as a process of the gamification of work. This process creates (e.g. through habituation) the biological conditions that transform selected activities, previously either unpleasant or indifferent, into sources of pleasure. The emerging ‘overhuman’ drives, in Schlick’s view, will increasingly contribute to this evolutionary process. They will continuously transform work into play by increasing the human species’ capacity to take pleasure in action undertaken within a specific environment (assuming that environment remains relatively stable over time).

Schlick, Wittgenstein, and Waismann  53 Schlick thus hypothesises that the process of development of ‘overhuman’ drives will perpetually make culture more harmonious with nature, and increasingly improve the human species’ adaptation to its environment. Schlick explicitly attributes the basic insights behind his conception of ‘play’ to Nietzsche, and more specifically to his critique of Schopenhauer’s pessimism. According to Schlick, Nietzsche saw that ‘life has no meaning, so long as it stands wholly under the domination of purposes’ ([1927] 1979, 113). As already noted, what Schlick understands as ‘play’ concerns precisely those types of activity that are not purpose-driven, but rather are enjoyed for their own sake. Schlick even discerns in Nietzsche’s three phases a division between these types of activity that parallels his own typology of drives. The early Nietzsche urged his reader to ‘consider the world […] as an aesthetic phenomenon’ (Schlick, 113), an attitude which transforms sensation into a form of play. During his positivist phase, Nietzsche understood theoretical knowledge as a form of play: ‘look upon life as an experiment of the knower, and the world will be to you the finest of laboratories’ (Schlick, 113). Finally, in his most mature phase, Nietzsche reached the point of view Schlick also claims to advocate, namely that ‘the ultimate value of life, to him, was life itself’ (113). In Schlick’s view, the ‘wisest Nietzsche […] of Zarathustra’ (113) understood that the meaning of life is inherent in the playful attitude itself, rather than its specific manifestations in the guise of aesthetic appreciation or scientific knowledge. Paralleling in part the development he attributes to the various phases of Nietzsche’s outlook, Schlick ([1908] 2006) utilised the distinction between work and play in separating the domain of practical activity from aesthetic, scientific, religious, and ethical attitudes. Each of the latter is conceived by Schlick as a kind of game that is governed by different manifestations of will, and thereby different rules. In Schlick’s account, aesthetic attitudes involve a purely playful attitude directed towards sensory objects, which is what Schlick calls the ‘will to beauty’. Practical and aesthetic attitudes are directed towards the same objects – those that the human senses have evolved to detect, in order for the species to survive and adapt to its environment. Nevertheless, taking an aesthetic attitude towards sensory objects means enjoying the sensations as pleasurable in themselves, instead of merely functioning as guides for fulfilling practical ends. In the case of religion, as understood in a Nietzschean spirit by Schlick, a similarly playful attitude is directed toward the world as a whole, rather than in response to specific objects in the world. Schlick thus attempts a naturalistic explanation of religion, understood as an attitude towards the world, without any reference to any deity.26 The theoretical knowledge pursued by science also involves its own distinctive form of play, guided by the ‘will to truth’.27 According to Schlick, what sets science apart from all other human activity is that it uniquely

54  Andreas Vrahimis pertains to value-free facts, as opposed to the evaluative attitudes involved in either practical endeavours, or play in its aesthetic, religious, and ethical guises. Qua value-free knowledge of facts, Schlick claims that science must be divorced from any of the aforementioned domains, and purified from their possible encroachments into its own terrain. Theoretical knowledge has oft been confused with aesthetic contemplation, insofar as both are playful attitudes towards objects in the world.28 Yet while the aesthetic attitude is guided by an unrestricted will to beauty, scientific knowledge is restricted by the search for truth. Scientific theories and unverifiable metaphysical utterances alike can certainly be appreciated for their aesthetic qualities, but in so appreciating them one is not playing the game of scientific investigation. According to Schlick, the game of science is bounded by the will to truth, which demands that scientific hypotheses be tested by their predictive accuracy.29 In Lebensweisheit, Schlick explicitly attributes to Nietzsche the view that the scientific researcher must undertake their activity not as a type of work, but as a form of joyful play, a ‘fröhliche Wissenschaft’ (181).30 He chastises institutions of higher learning for ignoring this Nietzschean insight when they confuse the scientific search for knowledge with a drive to attain practical aims. He cites Nietzsche in decrying the academic aspiration to ‘seriousness’ as a justification for engaging in what is essentially a joyful game, and should be seen as such. This line of critique applies not only to the professionalization of academic learning, but also to the limitation of scientific research by recourse to its technological applicability. Schlick even argues that undertaking theoretical knowledge as the playful pursuit of truth ultimately results in the maximisation of the potential practical benefits reaped.31 (c) ‘Will to power’ vs. ‘will to pleasure’

As shown so far, Nietzsche’s influence significantly shaped Schlick’s overall project in Lebensweisheit. From Nietzsche’s oeuvre, among other influences, Schlick extrapolates the idea that the various sub-disciplines of philosophy, including aesthetics, epistemology, and ethics, can be naturalised by appeal to a psychology of drives rooted in evolutionary biology. When it comes to the naturalisation of ethics, in particular, Schlick additionally stressed the centrality of sociology. Both in Lebensweisheit, and even more prominently in the later Fragen der Ethik, it is a combination of sociology with psychology that provides Schlick’s proposed framework for explaining the fundamentally social nature of ethical emotions.32 As we shall see below, this trajectory will bring Schlick at odds with certain tenets centrally upheld by Nietzsche.33 In defending his view of the social character of ethical feelings, Schlick will criticise Nietzsche’s emphasis on the ‘will to power’.

Schlick, Wittgenstein, and Waismann  55 Schlick explicitly delimits the applicability of the ‘will to power’ as a principle for explaining actual human activity. Both the ‘will to pleasure’ and the ‘will to power’ are usually bundled together as being ‘egoistic’ (Schlick [1908] 2006, 72).34 Schlick (72–73) argues that the ordinary use of the term ‘egoism’ involves multiple confusions.35 All action, Schlick (78–80) argues, is ‘egoistically’ motivated, in the sense that desiring something is tantamount to expecting some form of pleasure from it. This does not, however, preclude the possibility that pleasure can be derived from ‘altruistic’ or other-regarding action. It is because it has evolved to strive for pleasure that the human animal is thereby led to develop social affects such as love, which can involve deriving pleasure from self-abnegating acts. In defence of Nietzsche’s individualism (and contra Guyau), Schlick rejects any form of sociological holism venturing to explain apparently ‘altruistic’ behaviour by recourse to some form of ‘will to society’ (193) that overcomes individualistic, self-interested drives. Lebensweisheit already upholds a version of the methodological individualism that Schlick’s later works defend more elaborately: social science does not deal with abstract entities like ‘state’, ‘society’, or ‘peoples’ [‘Volk’ (196)], but rather simply with collections of individuals. Schlick’s psycho-sociological ethics must therefore make sense of the apparently ‘altruistic’ behaviour of individuals without recourse to the assumption that these are driven by some social instinct that rises above the individualistic pleasure-drive.36 At first glance, it is not so clear that Schlick’s asserted primacy of the ‘will to pleasure’ is completely irreconcilable with the Nietzschean preference for the ‘will to power’. As Schlick’s discussion intimates, one could consider the former as a cause for the latter, if it were the case that an increase in power results in an increase in pleasure. Schlick ([1908] 2006, 202–203) readily concedes that the ‘will to power’ is a biological phenomenon that can be observed in all living things. In its earliest evolutionary development, power manifests itself in defensive guises: from poisonous plants in defence of their lives, to humans wishfully fabricating powerful protective gods. In the course of its development in humans, power can become a means of minimising displeasure and maximising pleasure by turning other humans into instruments of the will of the powerful (203– 204). Schlick concedes that ethical emotions are ultimately means of transforming other humans into instruments of pleasure. He contends, however, that the unrestricted exertion of power unavoidably fails to bring about this end. Absolute mastery over all other humans is, Schlick (204, 206– 207) argues, impossible in the natural world, where power is always limited, and excessive power is countered. Since there are natural limits to the degree of power an individual can accumulate, any excessive emphasis on the struggle for power, through the imposition of one’s will onto others,

56  Andreas Vrahimis will tend to overshadow other pursuits more readily conducive to pleasure (205). Instead, Schlick (205–206) proposes that a self-serving, pleasuremaximising strategy can involve neither the pure imposition of my will onto others, or my allowing others to impose their will onto myself, but rather a compromise solution of mutual accommodation. He argues that this is the most efficient way of turning other humans into means of pursuing my own pleasure. As formulated in Lebensweisheit, the above objection might appear to affirm the consequent: Schlick’s arbitrary rejection of Nietzsche’s assertion of the fundamentality of the ‘will to power’ relies on a prior commitment to the primacy of the ‘will to pleasure’. It is only once Schlick’s later Fragen der Ethik is taken into consideration that it becomes clear that Schlick’s objection does not take the form of an a priori argument, but is instead an a posteriori sociological observation. Schlick ([1930] 1939) elaborates on his view of a naturalised ethics as a descriptive enterprise.37 While Lebensweisheit is already engaged in this task, it neither makes this goal explicit, nor does it contain any of the extensive argumentation that Fragen der Ethik develops in defence of this view. From the perspective of Schlick’s later work, the question as to whether the ‘will to power’ or the ‘will to pleasure’ ultimately underlies the evolution of all other drives is tantamount to the empirical psycho-sociological question concerning which of the two principles best describes human action. By this hindsight, the 1908 critique of the limits of the ‘will to power’ is thus to be understood empirically: asserting the primacy of the ‘will to power’ over other drives does not accord with the observed power relations that hold within actual human societies. Instead, Schlick takes it that what observation discovers is a sort of social balance of power that at least to some degree curtails absolute mastery and domination by individuals over all others (though notice that this does not preclude mastery and domination by one social group over another). In Schlick’s view, therefore, power-hungry individuals are the unhappy exception to the rule, vainly seeking to attain pleasure by seeking for power, rather than beauty, truth, or loving relations with their fellow humans. (d) A genealogy of absolute values

Despite the clash between their fundamental principles, there remain significant parallels between Schlick’s and Nietzsche’s proposals for naturalising ethics. Schlick insists on a sharp distinction between the purely descriptive task of ethics, on the one hand, and the prescriptive efforts of moralists on the other. Throughout history, the two efforts were confusedly blended by philosophers, who have been tempted by their subject matter into becoming moralists, seeking to justify their normative prescriptions instead of simply

Schlick, Wittgenstein, and Waismann  57 describing the given norms of specific human societies. In Schlick’s view, insofar as it is conceived as scientific, i.e. as a purely theoretical form of knowledge engaged in the search for truth, ethics is only engaged in the latter task.38 Nietzsche detects a similar confused blending of the search for truth and the moralising impulse.39 For example he proclaims that all philosophers were building under the seduction of morality, even Kant – that they were apparently aiming at certainty, at ‘truth’, but in reality at ‘majestic moral structures’ (D, 3) Schlick largely concurs not only with Nietzsche’s overall view, but also with his more specific view of Kant, who ‘finds that the only way to arrive at metaphysics is to start with ethics’ (Schlick 1994, 6). Under Nietzsche’s (and Guyau’s) influence, Schlick engages in a thorough critique of Kantian ethics and its assertion of absolute values and obligations.40 The notes from one of Schlick’s last lecture courses, posthumously published under the title ‘The Main Ideas of the Theory of Values’ (1994), shed some light on Schlick’s genealogy for Kant’s absolutisation of ethics, clearly inspired by Nietzsche. In Schlick’s view, the Kantian metaphysics of absolute values and obligations results from the transition from antiquity to Christianity. Ancient virtue ethics only sought to develop ‘practical guidelines’ (1994, 4) for the attainment of eudaimonia. While there is consensus among the various ethical schools that this non-metaphysical goal is the desired outcome, they disagree when it comes to its definition, and thereby the method of its attainment (4–5). Like Nietzsche, Schlick sees the advent of Christianity as displacing the prior consensus by setting a goal of ethics different from ‘earthly happiness’ (5) attainable in this life. The pleasant is thereby separated from the good. As a result, ‘the concept of value is made absolute and hypostatized’ (5) in a manner which has ‘no parallel in antiquity [and …] is a product of modern civilized man’ (6). In its modern form, ethics thus becomes ‘pursued as a special part of metaphysics’ (5). It is transformed into a theory of absolute values, i.e. of mind-independent entities that are supposed to exist separately from human volition in a realm that ‘exists beside the so-called genuine reality’ (5). Schlick places squarely onto Kant the philosophical blame for the formulation of modern ethics. According to Schlick, the absolutisation and hypostatisation of the concept of value, one that was previously exclusively used in a relative sense, gives rise to various forms of nonsense unwittingly employed by modern ethics: Kant […] took these ideas, which made sense when they were part of the language of everyday life in antiquity, and reduced them to a

58  Andreas Vrahimis philosophical formula. In its absolute form the concept [of value] is completely metaphysical, for there is no absolute value to be found in the world. (Schlick 1994, 5) A prime example for Kant’s misuse of ordinary language is his conception of an absolute ‘ought’. Schlick ([1930] 1939, 110–115) argues that, in order to arrive at this concept, Kant deviates from the ordinary employment of this term, which can only be meaningfully used in a relative sense. In ordinary usage, ‘I ought to do x’ is really equivalent to ‘Jones wants me to do x’ (100–111). In such cases, ‘ought’ does not prescribe a categorical imperative, but only involves a hypothetical imperative – it concerns the expression (and possibly, given enough power, the imposition) of another’s will. This expression is relative, i.e. it describes my relation to Jones. While ‘ought’ can be meaningfully employed in this manner only, Schlick argues that Kant repurposes the term in order to prescribe an absolute. This misuse of the term results in a contradiction, insofar as ‘relativity, the relation to another desiring person, is constitutive of the ought in its usual sense’ (112). In Schlick’s example, an absolute ‘ought’ that bears no relation to another’s desire is equivalent to ‘an uncle who is such, not relatively to some nephew or niece, but simply in himself’ (112). The rejection of absolute values is part and parcel of Schlick’s account of a science of ethics that is merely descriptive of the relative norms and values contingently upheld within specific social settings in specific points in evolutionary history. Any attempt to justify these values is beyond the scope of a scientific ethics. One could here object that Schlick’s descriptivist aspirations are at odds with the Nietzschean project of the ‘transvaluation of all values’, if the latter is understood as a normative or justificatory enterprise.41 Schlick, however, interprets Nietzsche’s ‘transvaluation’ in a way that renders it compatible with his own descriptive project. The transvaluation of values is in fact, Schlick contends, a process that normally takes place during the gradual course of the evolution of human civilisation. Schlick thus chastises Nietzsche for naïvely assuming that transvaluation can be significantly affected by an individual genius. A naturalised ethics that only aims at describing relative values will indeed have to take into account these processes of transvaluation. What ethics must abstain from is the temptation to itself engage in evaluating its object of study, thereby confusing descriptive ethics with prescriptive moralising.42 3 Wittgenstein and Schlick on Nietzsche: A comparison The relations of mutual influence between Schlick and Wittgenstein are far too complex to summarise in this chapter.43 This section will focus on their

Schlick, Wittgenstein, and Waismann  59 readings of Nietzsche, showing that these diverged in interesting ways. As we shall see in what follows, their reception of Nietzsche was guided by their different responses to Schopenhauer, on the one hand, and Spengler, on the other. These differences in their reception of Nietzsche help frame Wittgenstein’s (and later Waismann’s) criticisms of Schlick’s naturalisation of ethics, to which we will turn in section 4. Like Nietzsche, Wittgenstein and Schlick shared a common interest in Schopenhauer. Both read him at an early age,44 and responded to him, implicitly or explicitly, throughout their intellectual development.45 We have already seen one example of Schopenhauer’s influence at work in the early Schlick’s evolutionary account of drives, identified as types of will.46 Schlick’s response to Schopenhauer is far from uncritical. For example, in his seminal ‘Experience, Cognition, Metaphysics’, Schlick ([1926] 1979, 107–109) vehemently attacks Schopenhauer’s proclamations of the limitations of scientific knowledge, as opposed to metaphysics.47 A similarly critical attitude accompanies Wittgenstein’s influence by Schopenhauer. The extent of Schopenhauer’s influence is subject to debate hinging on broader interpretative questions which I cannot here address.48 One significant difference between Wittgenstein’s and Schlick’s receptions of Schopenhauer is that the latter, and not the former, is significantly informed by the work of Nietzsche. Schlick’s various Schopenhauerian tendencies should be understood as filtered through and subsumed under his appraisal of Nietzsche. In Schlick’s (2013, e.g. 139–140, 204, 228–229) lectures on both thinkers, he presents Nietzsche as a critic of Schopenhauer’s romantic metaphysics. Schlick subscribed to the thesis, traceable back to Lou Andreas-Salomé, that Nietzsche began his career as a Schopenhauerian philologist (Schlick 2013, 128–132), only to overcome this early phase from Human, All Too Human onwards (205). Schlick argues that during this middle period Nietzsche became a positivist (Schlick 2013, 229), and outright rejected the possibility of metaphysical theorising (e.g. 250). Nietzsche’s later writings remain within the purview of naturalism, exploring the ethical implications that follow from upholding a scientific conception of the world (Schlick 2013, e.g, 240–241, 276–277). It is this Nietzsche, seen as a positivist, critical of metaphysics, committed to a scientific conception of the world, and thereby to the project of naturalising ethics, that Schlick and other members of the Vienna Circle praised, and even proclaimed to be their predecessor.49 The above attitude, attributed by the Vienna Circle to Nietzsche and also upheld by its own members, is certainly one towards which Wittgenstein was critically disposed.50 Wittgenstein’s critical tendency towards this attitude is reflected in his attribution to Nietzsche of the diagnosis, with which he seems to be in agreement, that ‘our age is really an age of the transvaluation of all values’ (PPO, 61). Wittgenstein describes modern

60  Andreas Vrahimis civilisation’s process of transvaluation as a situation in which ‘the procession of human-kind turns a corner & what used to be the way up is now the way down etc’ (61). While Schlick, Wittgenstein, and Nietzsche would agree that transvaluation has something to do with a ‘procession of human-kind’ (61), as we have seen in section 2, Schlick ([1911] 1979) has an account of the gradual process of transvaluation that is at odds not only with Wittgenstein’s pronouncement, but also with Nietzsche’s aims. By contrast to Wittgenstein’s literally revolutionary conception of transvaluation, Schlick’s evolutionary account concerns the gradual displacement of all-too-human drives by overhuman ones – a process which can be described by reference to biological facts, rather than to transcendent values. This tension between Schlick’s descriptivism, as opposed to Wittgenstein’s rejection of the relevance of theory to values, will manifest itself in Wittgenstein’s criticism of Schlick’s naturalised ethics, to which we return in the following section. Perhaps contrary to other members of the Vienna Circle (and especially its ‘left wing’), Schlick shared Wittgenstein’s critical attitude toward modernity. Already in Lebensweisheit, and much later in his posthumously published Natur und Kultur, Schlick decried the tendency of modern technological civilisations to create environments, like modern cities, to which human beings are not well-adapted, a tendency which leads astray from the harmonisation of nature with culture.51 Schlick (2013, e.g. 101) furthermore saw Nietzsche as centrally preoccupied with philosophical problems that specifically arise within modern civilisation. Concurring with Andreas-Salomé’s division of Nietzsche’s work into phases, Schlick (2013, e.g. 164–165) sees the early Schopenhauerian phase to involve a romantic rejection of modernity and its Enlightenment optimism concerning knowledge’s power to transform society for the better. He nonetheless argues that Nietzsche revised his appraisal of Socratic ‘Wissenskultur’ (Schlick 2013, 165) during his middle period. In Schlick’s view, given that Nietzsche’s later work remains committed to this reappraisal, it should be seen as primarily concerned with working out the philosophical, and especially axiological, consequences that arise from a commitment to modern civilisation’s scientific conception of the world. Like most of their contemporary Germanophone academics, both Schlick and Wittgenstein reproduced the dubious distinction between ‘culture’ [Kultur] and mere ‘civilisation’ [Zivilisation].52 In Schlick’s view, modern civilisation has been hitherto led astray by technological developments that destroy the habitats to which humanity became adapted through long and gradual evolutionary processes. Schlick the moralist thinks that a culture worthy of its name would instead strive towards its harmonisation with the natural environment. Wittgenstein similarly describes modernity as ‘a time without culture’ (CV 1998, 9). In Wittgenstein’s view, within

Schlick, Wittgenstein, and Waismann  61 Western (i.e. ‘European and American’ (8)) civilisation, an individualistic attitude focussed on technical specialisation has replaced an earlier, more collective mode of social organisation that was conducive to cultural pursuits (8–9). This earlier cultural world is connected, in Wittgenstein’s view, to problems I never tackle, which do not lie in my path or belong to my world. Problems of the intellectual world of the West […] which no philosopher has ever confronted (perhaps Nietzsche passed close to them). And perhaps they are lost to western philosophy, that is there will be no one there who experiences and so can describe the development of this culture as an epic. Or more precisely it just is no longer an epic, or is one only for someone who observes it from outside & perhaps Beethoven did this with prevision (as Spengler hints in one place). (CV 1998, 11–12) It is notable that here we find Wittgenstein partly sharing Schlick’s contention that Nietzsche was primarily a philosopher of culture, dealing with problems raised by modernity. Wittgenstein does not here explicitly state what the problems linked to ‘the end of this culture’ (12) are.53 Elsewhere, however, he explicitly connects the Western decline into modern civilisation with the tendency towards increasing technical specialisation (of the type promulgated e.g. by the Vienna Circle) in philosophy – something which he compares to the anti-decorative tendencies of modernist architecture.54 As the above quote reminds us, one of Wittgenstein’s key sources for the distinction between culture and civilisation is the work of Oswald Spengler.55 Spengler also mediates Wittgenstein’s reading of Nietzsche. Brusotti (2009) argues that Wittgenstein understood Nietzsche’s account of the transvaluation of values through the lens of Spengler’s account of the downfall of Western civilisation. Showing a trace of Spengler’s influence, Wittgenstein maintains that he ‘contemplate[s] the current of European civilization without sympathy, without understanding its aims if any’ (CV 1998, 9), since its ‘spirit […] is alien & uncongenial’ (8) to him. Yet Wittgenstein (8) insists that his declarations concerning the transition from an earlier culture to modern civilisation are not meant to be ‘disparaging’ (8) value judgements. To restate his view in the Nietzschean terms we already saw him employ, while Wittgenstein fails to sympathise with the transvaluation of values characteristic of modern civilisation, he also does not seek to evaluate this civilisation as somehow inferior from the preceding culture. Wittgenstein’s sympathy for Spengler clearly differentiates him from most of the Vienna Circle’s members, including Schlick.56 Spengler’s

62  Andreas Vrahimis popular declarations concerning the downfall of Western civilisation were, already in 1921, the target of an extensive rebuttal in Neurath’s Anti-Spengler. Despite his proximity to Wittgenstein (or his antagonism with Neurath), Schlick seems to have remained unconvinced by his friend’s enthusiasm for Spengler’s views. This is evident in the scathing and detailed objections against Spengler’s theses developed in Natur und Kultur. Among other criticisms, Schlick rejects Spengler’s account of history as unjustifiably teleological (Schlick 1952, 42), and his fatalism for being empirically unfounded (42–45).57 Schlick takes Spengler’s pessimism to rely on the erroneous thesis that nature and culture are opposed forces. Spengler takes technology to be the primary factor driving the development of human cultures and civilisations. Civilisational development is thus tantamount to a perpetually growing opposition to nature; and downfall is thus the destiny of all human civilisations, which must unavoidably lose this war. This pessimism is precisely the opposite view of the optimistic evolutionism we have seen Schlick develop since his earliest work. Contrary to Spengler, Schlick had argued that culture is an outgrowth of nature that can become fully harmonised with it. Once we clear away certain confusions caused by Spengler’s vague use of terms such as ‘opposition’ to characterise the relation between nature and culture, Schlick argues that the question of the direction of cultural development becomes an empirical matter. In his view, the empirical evidence favours his own optimism. In the opposition between Schlick and Spengler, we see two very different approaches towards interpreting Nietzsche. Spengler and other Lebensphilosophen looked to Nietzsche for a predecessor of their various forms of anti-intellectualism, if not irrationalism. Following its propagandistic use during the First World War, it is through its incorporation into popular Lebensphilosophie that Nietzsche’s thought came to be appropriated by the fascists and Nazis. As we have seen, Wittgenstein’s reception of Nietzsche, filtered through Spengler’s cultural pessimism, occupies a very unique place in the history of analytic philosophy, veering toward enemy camps. By contrast, though Schlick acknowledged the early Nietzsche’s romantic critique of the Enlightenment, what he appreciated was his later overcoming of his Schopenhauerian metaphysics, and his defence of a scientific world-conception. Schlick was thus thoroughly opposed to the appropriation of Nietzsche’s thought by militarists and fascists alike.58 In opposition to Spenglerian pessimism, Schlick looked to Nietzsche for a utopian vision of the future harmonisation of nature with culture. Thus, as this section has shown, despite their apparent convergence in remaining critical of ­modernity, Wittgenstein and Schlick saw Nietzsche’s stance towards ­modernity through very different prisms.

Schlick, Wittgenstein, and Waismann  63 4 Wittgenstein against Schlick’s ethics On 17 December 1930, Waismann recorded Wittgenstein’s remarks in response to Schlick’s Fragen der Ethik. The analysis so far undertaken by this chapter helps place one point of Wittgenstein’s agreement with Schlick into context. As shown in section 2(d), Schlick ([1930] 1939) developed an extensive Nietzschean criticism of the absolutisation of values and obligations that led to the Christian subsumption of ethics under metaphysics. Schlick’s main example for this move was Kant’s assertion of an absolute ‘ought’, which Schlick took to rely on a shift from the ordinary meaning of the term to its nonsensical metaphysical employment. Wittgenstein’s remarks apparently restate Schlick’s viewpoint, concurring with it without much modification: What does the word ‘ought’ mean? A child ought to do such-and-such means that if he does not do it, something unpleasant will happen. […] ‘Ought’ makes sense only if there is something lending support and force to it – a power that punishes and rewards. Ought in itself is nonsensical. (WVC, 118) Wittgenstein thus agrees with Schlick that ‘ought’ can be meaningfully used only in a relative, not an absolute, sense. By appealing to this particular example, Wittgenstein further links Schlick’s critique of the Kantian absolute imperative back to the Tractatus’ (6.422) assertion that ‘ethics has nothing to do with punishment and reward in the ordinary sense’ (TLP 1922, 183). According to the Tractatus, the consequences of an imperative must be extrinsic to its ethical import. The distinction between relative and absolute values was further elaborated in Wittgenstein’s ‘Lecture on Ethics’, thereby influencing the subsequent development of Schlick’s ethics.59 A fundamental disagreement concerning the meaning of the term ‘ethics’ looms behind the apparent agreement between Schlick and Wittgenstein concerning the meaninglessness of an absolute ‘ought’.60 Wittgenstein outright rejects the relation between ethics and science developed in Schlick’s book.61 As Wittgenstein insists, ethical values have ‘nothing to do’ (WVC, 115) with the sociological and psychological facts that Schlick’s ‘ethical science’ sets out to describe and explain. Wittgenstein thus asserts that scientific explanation, or indeed any theory of values, is simply irrelevant to ethics.62 For example, he contests Schlick’s thesis that ‘valuations are facts existing in human consciousness’ (Schlick [1930] 1939, 21) thus: Is value a particular state of mind? Or a form attaching to some data or other of consciousness? I would reply that whatever I was told, I would

64  Andreas Vrahimis reject, and that not because the explanation was false but because it was an explanation. (WVC, 116–117) In the above, Wittgenstein primarily rejects the applicability of the term ‘ethics’ to Schlick’s psycho-sociological theory. Schlick takes what he calls a ‘scientific ethics’ to be able to describe the set of norms upheld within a given society at a particular stage in its history (or, more broadly, humanity at a particular stage of its evolution).63 As Schlick insists, such a scientific enterprise would not endeavour to justify these norms – any such endeavour must inevitably fail. In his response to Schlick, Wittgenstein does not appear to reject the viability of such a scientific project. Rather, he contests its relevance to ethics. According to Wittgenstein, What is ethical cannot be caught. If I could explain the essence of the ethical only by means of a theory, then what is ethical would be of no value whatsoever. […] all I can do is to step forth as an individual and speak in the first person. (117) In other words, Wittgenstein asserts that ethics is not a form of theory. The theoretical enterprise Schlick set out on is ethically irrelevant; the word ‘ethics’ is inapplicable to it. In summarising his response to Schlick in 1930, Wittgenstein rephrases Schopenhauer’s aphorism: ‘to moralize is easy, to establish morality difficult’ (quoted in WVC, 118). According to Wittgenstein, instead, ‘to moralize is difficult, to establish morality impossible’ (118). Almost a decade later, in his unfinished notes for a lecture at Cambridge from 1938 or 1939, Waismann reiterates, and thereby interprets, Wittgenstein’s claim as follows: An ethicist can proclaim his doctrine and try to promote it […] by persuasion or by living by it. But there is one thing he cannot do: he cannot justify his ethics. Schopenhauer says: ‘it is easy to preach, but difficult to found, morality’. I say: it is difficult to preach, but impossible to found, morality. Ethics, like religion, is something you can only profess. (Waismann 1994, 50)

5 Waismann between Schlick and Wittgenstein In the Cambridge lecture notes, Waismann’s take on the relation between science and ethics integrates elements of Schlick’s project and

Schlick, Wittgenstein, and Waismann  65 Wittgenstein’s critique. At first glance, Waismann appears to side with Wittgenstein in his attempt to show that ethics is not a theoretical enterprise.64 Yet if one looks at its details, Waismann’s defence of this viewpoint does not go against any specific part of Schlick’s descriptive science of ethics. Indeed, Waismann’s lecture is simply not concerned with the type of project Schlick was engaged in.65 Instead, Waismann emphasises a point of agreement between Wittgenstein and Schlick when he argues that there can be no factual justification for normative claims. In arguing his case, Waismann shares the assumption common to both Wittgenstein and Schlick in their criticisms of absolute values and obligations: to justify ethics scientifically would only be possible once we can demonstrate the legitimacy of an ethic in an objective manner, i.e. in such a way that any human being must recognize this ethic as binding (Waismann 1994, 37) Yet, in Waismann’s view, such an absolute is unattainable. What we encounter in reality is disagreement between proponents of ‘mutually contradictory’ (44) ethical systems, among which Waismann (44) lists Epicurean, Stoic, Christian, and Nietzschean ethics. Waismann concurs that, once the basic tenets of either ethical system are accepted, justification can be offered for various views within each system. Yet any choice between competing ethical systems cannot itself be justified scientifically – there can be no recourse to facts in deciding ‘which morality is “correct”’ (45). Theoretical disagreements between ethical outlooks thus remain unresolvable. Proponents of ethical systems throughout history seem to have nonetheless insisted on theoretical dialogue. Waismann explains this insistence by reference to a confusion concerning the nature of ethical utterances. These often take a form similar to descriptions, and here ‘as so often, we are misled by language’ (45). Waismann does not follow Wittgenstein’s earlier assertion that ethical utterances are meaningless.66 Rather, his meta-ethical viewpoint is closer to the early Schlick’s Schopenhauerianism: ethics is a matter of the will, not of the understanding. This is why ethical sentences have nothing to do with knowledge and error nor with ‘true’ and ‘false’. (45) Like Schlick, Waismann understands ethics as involving expressions of volition. In Waismann’s view, his non-cognitivist denial of the truth-aptness of ethical sentences entails that theoretical dialogue between competing ethical systems, understood as competing forms taken by volition, is

66  Andreas Vrahimis untenable.67 Waismann’s view allows for the possibility that, starting from some basic form of volition, an ethical system directed towards its attainment can be erected. Neither does he preclude the possibility, explored by Schlick, that such a system can be described in a scientific manner. What he denies, in common with both Wittgenstein and Schlick, is that the conflicting volitional attitudes ultimately expressed by different ethical systems can ever be scientifically justified. 6 Waismann contra Nietzsche Waismann frames his brand of non-cognitivism within a broad genealogy of morality that partly resembles the Nietzschean historical account we previously encountered in Schlick. According to Waismann, different ethical systems have their historical origins in different religions, while he attributes the attempt to construct theoretical systems of ethics to the demise of religious belief. Ethical theory seeks to fill the gap that opens once faith in various religions’ revelatory commandments subsides. Like Schlick, Waismann takes modern ethics, from Spinoza to Schopenhauer, to have endeavoured ‘to give ethics a metaphysical foundation’ (Waismann 1994, 36). Waismann concurs with Schlick in taking Kant’s work to be the paradigmatic culprit for this move, since he conceived of ethics as the field in which man rises from the sphere of the empirical world subject to natural causes into an intelligible world of free spirits. (36) Waismann agrees with Schlick that a scientific attitude towards ethics ‘is undermining and gradually breaking up this metaphysical pseudoworld’ (36). In the wake especially of Darwinian evolutionary theory (35), a new type of approach to ethics has endeavoured to justify its assertions on the basis of scientific results. In at least partial contrast with Schlick, Waismann is critically disposed towards both the modern metaphysical, and the later naturalistic forms taken by ethical theory. When it comes to the latter, Nietzsche becomes the main target of ­Waismann’s criticism. Waismann employs the clash between a Christian and a Nietzschean morality as exemplary of robust, unresolvable ­disagreement between ethical systems. Waismann’s overall claim is that, despite Nietzsche’s multiple appeals to evolutionary biology, physiology, and p ­sychology, his ethical standpoint is ultimately unjustifiable by ­recourse to the results of science. By contrast with Schlick’s efforts to avoid Nietzsche’s appropriation by far right politics, Waismann’s lecture notes, composed soon after Schlick’s murder and Waismann’s escape from the Nazis to Cambridge as a refugee,

Schlick, Wittgenstein, and Waismann  67 concede from the outset that Nietzsche was associated with ‘certain ideologies’ (34) such as ‘the glorification of the blond beast’ (34) and the ‘idea of breeding supermen’ (34).68 According to Waismann, Nietzsche thought that the members of a ‘master race’ (47) are to be exempt from all moral strictures. In interpreting Nietzsche, Waismann clarifies that he uses the word ‘race’ in a non-biological sense. Membership in the master race is voluntary, to be gained by those who have ‘the courage to overcome the slave morality’ (47). For these masters, everything is morally permissible, while morality applies only to a lower caste of slaves. As a result, in Waismann’s view, Nietzsche proposes the institution of two legal systems. Waismann’s first objection to Nietzsche concerns a logical contradiction involved in the application of this double legal order. The imposition of morality onto the slaves would, by Nietzsche’s standards, be impossible, since anyone who breaks the rules applying to slaves could claim to be a master, a claim that is validated by the fact that they did not follow slave morality. However, as Waismann admits, this problem could be resolved by introducing further criteria for entry into the master caste, e.g. ‘selfdetermination, outstanding achievements, etc’ (48). Waismann’s second objection is directed against Nietzsche’s contention that the ‘rule of the will to power’ (48) was best exemplified in a ‘particular state of culture, one he found realized above all in the sixth century before Christ’ (48). Waismann argues that Nietzsche’s analysis of this culture is mistaken, since its growth and development were largely premised on trade, colonization and the beginnings of progress rather than on the will to power, which was frittered away on countless local wars that lacked any cultural value, ruined the land, and even contributed to the downfall of the great public figures. (48) Waismann thus argues that the Nietzschean must decide whether what they value above all is the unrestrained expression of the will to power or ‘great cultural achievements’ (48). The objection here is in some ways similar in spirit to Schlick’s contention that an unrestrained will to power will ultimately clash with the will to pleasure, the latter being more apt in describing actual sociological phenomena. At the same time, however, Schlick may have rejected Waismann’s interpretation of Nietzsche: according to Schlick’s division of Nietzsche’s works into phases, the admiration of pre-Socratic culture is characteristic of Nietzsche’s early metaphysical phase, while the assertion of the will to power is developed in the last positivistic phase. A further incompatibility between Waismann’s and Schlick’s interpretations is connected to Waismann’s third objection to Nietzsche. This concerns the notion of eternal recurrence, an idea that, perhaps surprisingly, Schlick,

68  Andreas Vrahimis Wittgenstein, and Waismann all address in different ways. As already noted, in his lectures on Nietzsche Schlick argues that the later Nietzsche remained a positivist, and was committed to the rejection of any metaphysical assertion concerning a supra-sensory world that goes beyond experience (Schlick 2013, 228). Schlick (298) argues that the doctrine of eternal recurrence is a case in point: it makes no reference to a supra-sensible world, but simply to an occurrence within the sensible world that cannot possibly be experienced.69 He therefore maintains that this view contains no contradiction, and is a plausible naturalistic hypothesis (298–299). By contrast to Schlick, as Brusotti (2009, 359) notes, Wittgenstein’s ­response to the idea of eternal recurrence is not concerned with ­interpreting Nietzsche, but rather with diagnosing a particular type of error which he takes such a view to exemplify. Wittgenstein uses his rendition of ­Nietzsche’s idea in the context of clarifying a specific use of the term ‘can’ expressing possibility: The use which is made of the word ‘can’ – the expression of possibility […] – can throw a light upon the idea that what can happen must have happened before (Nietzsche). It will also be interesting to look […] on the statement that what happens can happen. (BBB, 104) An elucidation of the above relatively obscure comment can be found in Waismann’s reporting of Wittgenstein’s views in his Principles of Linguistic Philosophy. Here, Nietzsche’s ‘idea to prove eternal recurrence’ (Waismann 1997, 341) is connected to Russell’s view that ‘the possible is that for which there are precedents’ (341). In Diktat für Schlick, Wittgenstein further clarifies his diagnosis that the confusing polysemy of ‘can’ is what tempts Nietzsche into considering the notion of possibility as necessitating eternal recurrence. This misunderstanding is of exactly the same kind as seeing possibility as a shadowy reality and the ability to do something as a shadowy performance. […] Here too belongs Nietzsche’s argument for the assertion of eternal recurrence. (VW, 13) In other words, Wittgenstein takes the idea of eternal recurrence to be a consequence derived from unwittingly identifying the meaning of an expression such as ‘he can do so and so’ (BBB, 104) with that of the expression ‘he has done so and so’ (104). Contrary to Schlick, who argued against a metaphysical interpretation, Waismann insists that the notion of eternal recurrence is metaphysics pure

Schlick, Wittgenstein, and Waismann  69 and simple. Perhaps contrary to Wittgenstein, who appears to have clearly understood the misunderstanding that it contains as originating in the use of ‘can’, Waismann claims that it is nonsensical. According to Waismann, the theory of eternal recurrence, to which Nietzsche attached such importance in his later years and which he regarded as the metaphysical underpinning of his ethics, is really meaningless. (48) Waismann describes Nietzsche’s position in terms of ‘all things and states of affairs in the world’ (48). He argues that if all the states of affairs that have taken and will take place simply repeat themselves infinitely many times, without any conceivable characteristic that differentiates between various repetitions, then it is meaningless to conceive of them as eternally recurring: one could just as well say that everything in the world is just what it is and that time is self-contained. (48) Waismann here seems to implicitly appeal to some version of Leibniz’s law. There is no discernible difference between the specific objects and states of affairs that are repeated infinitely many times. Thus their existence is a spurious metaphysical postulate. A possible response to Waismann’s view can be formulated on the basis of Schlick’s interpretation. The physical possibility of repeated sequences of states of affairs could be differentiated by their temporal position only. Two questions, which neither Schlick nor Waismann address, would then remain: (i) whether a non-metaphysical articulation of Leibniz’s law can be permitted within the bounds of Logical Empiricism; and (ii) whether this should be understood to take temporal differences into consideration. Even if it were granted that the above objections give theoretical reasons that motivate a rejection of Nietzsche’s ethics, Waismann concedes that any theoretical argument will be insufficient for the goal. He claims that Nietzsche does not present his meta-ethical theory as the result of logical argument which must convince his reader without any doubt. Instead ­‘Nietzsche uses every means in his language to talk us into accepting his theory of values, to seduce us’ (48–49). Given that Nietzsche does not rely on argument, but rather on psychological persuasion, there is little by way of argument that can convincingly answer his theory. Understood thus, what might have appeared as a theoretical system of ethics turns out to be nothing other than an assertion of Nietzsche’s will. The same diagnosis, Waismann contends, would ultimately apply to all other ethical systems.

70  Andreas Vrahimis 7 Conclusion With Waismann’s lecture at Cambridge, our story of the exceptional character of the Germanophone analytic response to Nietzsche has come full circle, returning to some of the criticisms made familiar in Anglophone analytic polemics. It is unclear whether Russell had any knowledge, direct or indirect, of Waismann’s objections. Whether under Waismann’s influence or not, his widely read History of Western Philosophy (Russell 1946, 137, 699, 799–800) repeats a variant of Waismann’s last claim against Nietzsche: his ethics is really a matter of sentiment rather than theory.70 The appropriation of Nietzsche’s work by Nazism motivated such criticisms by Anglophone analytic philosophers. As a result, Nietzsche would be of little interest to analytic philosophers during the third quarter of the twentieth century. As Robertson and Owen (2013) note, a resurgence of interest occurred, during the last quarter of the century, within Anglophone analytic debates in ethics. This chapter has demonstrated that this overall pattern in Nietzsche’s reception does not apply to the cases of three of the leading Germanophone figures in the history of analytic philosophy. Schlick, Wittgenstein, and Waismann had elaborate responses to parts of Nietzsche’s outlook. A significant Nietzschean influence guided Schlick’s project of naturalising ethics, both in its philosophical viewpoints and in the style of its exposition. Schlick nonetheless maintained a critical attitude towards various aspects of Nietzsche’s philosophy, such as his assertion of the will to power. Despite their proximity, Wittgenstein’s understanding of several of Nietzsche’s views (under the influence of Spengler) deviated from Schlick’s more elaborate interpretation. Wittgenstein concurred with Schlick’s criticism of an absolute ‘ought’, despite his overall rejection of Schlick’s naturalisation of ethics. In Waismann’s articulation of his own view of the relation between ethics and science, we find an emphasis on an element that is common in Schlick and Wittgenstein, namely their rejection of the possibility of scientifically justifying moral claims. As shown in this chapter’s last section, Waismann’s criticisms of Nietzsche’s ethics can be brought into dialogue with Schlick’s and Wittgenstein’s responses, especially in the case of the notion of eternal recurrence. The overall dialogue reconstructed by this chapter thereby deviates from the usual depiction of a split in Nietzsche’s reception along the lines of a purported divide between ‘analytic’ and ‘continental’ philosophy.71 Notes 1 See Martin 2003, 2006; Akehurst 2010, 18–23; Vrahimis 2015, 2022a, 55–59. 2 See Martin 2006, 154–155. Similar compact editions of Nietzsche’s aphorisms were published in the Second World War.

Schlick, Wittgenstein, and Waismann  71 3 See Vrahimis 2015, 2022a. 4 See Akehurst 2010. 5 See Akehurst 2010, 35–38. 6 See Akerhurst 2010. 7 See Robertson and Owen 2013. 8 See Brusotti 2009, 341. I am grateful to Shunichi Takagi for pointing out to me that G.E. Moore’s diaries from 1913 suggest that Wittgenstein was already familiar with Zarathustra. 9 See Brusotti 2009, 341. 10 See Brusotti 2009, 341–343. 11 See Brusotti 2009, 345–349. 12 Iven 2013, 55. 13 See Iven 2013, 63. The lectures were repeatedly delivered by Schlick at various times and places up until 1923. Schlick modified the lectures, e.g. with the subsequent addition of an introduction to Schopenhauer. The lecture notes were first published a century later as Nietzsche und Schopenhauer (Schlick 2013). 14 I analyse Schlick’s defence of Nietzsche against militarism in Vrahimis 2022a. 15 See Vrahimis 2020. 16 On the book’s Nietzschean overtones, see Brusotti 2006, 349–354. 17 The simile mentioned here is from Nietzsche (TSZ 2006, 117). 18 Similar remarks, citing Nietzsche, are also found in Waismann (1968a, 6; 1968b, 176). 19 I should note that this chapter will not focus on evaluating the correctness of these views qua interpretations of Nietzsche. 20 See Mormann 2010; Vrahimis 2020, 2022a. Another relevant central influence on Schlick is the less well-remembered work of Jean-Marie Guyau, whose project of naturalising ethics was highly influential on Nietzsche’s similar effort; see Ansell-Pearson 2009. It should be noted that the question whether Nietzsche was indeed a naturalist has been a subject of ongoing scholarly dispute. 21 Nietzsche is also mentioned in later works related to ethics, e.g. Schlick ([1927] 1979, 113, 120, 124, 127–128; [1930] 1939, 141, 172). 22 Iven 2006, 19–20. 23 See also Leinfellner 1985, 328, 336–337. 24 Schlick ([1911] 1979, 115) nevertheless rejects Nietzsche’s individualistic conception of transvaluation; see Vrahimis 2020, 6, 11. 25 See also Textor 2018. 26 As Ferrari (2022) points out, this is one of the disagreements between Schlick and Wittgenstein. 27 See Bonnet 2016. 28 See Vrahimis 2022a, 71–78. 29 See Lewis (1990); Uebel (2020). 30 Cf. Schlick [1932] 1979, 368. 31 This idea is further explored in Schlick ([1918/1925] 1974, 94–101; [1927] 1979, 116). 32 See Leinfellner (1985); Ambrus (2022). 33 In this, Schlick comes closer to Guyau’s social vision of the naturalisation of ethics; see Ansell-Pearson 2009. 34 Cf. Schlick [1930] 1939, 59. 35 Schlick ([1930] 1939, 56–78) later engages in a more sustained discussion of the term’s definition.

72  Andreas Vrahimis 6 See also Leinfellner 1985. 3 37 See also Ambrus 2022. 38 Apart from this conception of a scientific ethics, Schlick also conceives of a supplementary philosophical meta-ethics, which investigates the logical relations between possible sets of rules; see Ambrus 2022. 39 See Ansell-Pearson 2009, 103. 40 See Ferrari 2016. As Ansell-Pearson (2009) argues, Guyau’s work can be understood as the source for Nietzsche’s critique of absolute value. 41 But see e.g. Robertson and Owen 2013, 186–188. 42 Schlick ([1930] 1939) himself nonetheless traverses the distinction between the two; see Ambrus 2022. 43 See e.g. Uebel 2020. 44 Iven 2006, 22; Anscombe 1959, 11–12; see also Jacquette 2017, 60–61. 45 On Schopenhauer’s influence on Wittgenstein, see e.g. Jacquette 2017. On Schopenhauer’s significant influence on Schlick, see Textor (2018, 2021, 251– 260), and a brief mention in Leinfellner 1985, 328, 336–337. Waismann (e.g. 1968a, 3–4, 6; 1977, 31; 1994, 36, 50) also repeatedly mentions and discusses Schopenhauer’s views – including in the book that resulted from his failed collaboration with Wittgenstein (Waismann 1965, 6–7, 154, 189, 328). 46 See Leinfellner 1985, 328, 336–337. 47 A similar line of criticism directed against Schopenhauer is pursued in Schlick ([1930] 1979, 167–168; [1932] 1979, 324). According to Textor (2018, 113– 116; 2021, 325–329), Schopenhauer’s influence also extends to Schlick’s conception of acquaintance, which underlies his objections against its epistemic status – a line of criticism that Schlick upholds throughout his work. 48 See e.g. Jacquette 2017. 49 See Vrahimis 2020. 50 See e.g. Kienzler 2018. 51 See also Mormann 2010; Vrahimis 2021a. 52 See e.g. Mormann 2010; Vrahimis 2021b, 153–156. 53 On Wittgenstein’s account of the relation between modern civilisation and philosophy, see e.g. Kienzler 2018; Vrahimis 2021b. 54 See Vrahimis 2021b, 153–156. 55 As Kienzler (2018) shows, Spengler’s work also informs Wittgenstein’s criticisms of the Vienna Circle. 56 See Vrahimis 2020, 2022b. 57 See Vrahimis 2020, 54–56. 58 See Vrahimis 2022a, 66–68. 59 On the importance of the distinction between absolute and relative values for Wittgenstein’s reception of Nietzsche, see Brusotti 2009, 345. On the relation between Wittgenstein’s and Schlick’s ethical outlooks, see Ferrari 2022. 60 I further analyse Wittgenstein’s critical response to Schlick’s ethics in Vrahimis 2023. 61 This is something Schlick anticipates in his letter accompanying his dispatch of the book to Wittgenstein, where he acknowledges that ‘I think that your judgement will be that the whole [book] has nothing to do with ethics’ (quoted in Iven 2006, 338). 62 See also Ferrari 2022. 63 See also Leinfellner 1985; Ambrus 2022. 64 Nevertheless, as Sandis (2019, 48–50) shows, while Wittgenstein was warning against the scientism involved in Schlick’s project, Waismann was defending a kind of scientistic view of ethics.

Schlick, Wittgenstein, and Waismann  73 5 See also Sandis 2019, 48. 6 66 Sandis 2019, 49. 67 See Sandis 2019. 68 Schlick’s (2013, 284–285) early interpretation of Übermensch as a biological concept (and one related to breeding [‘Höherzüchtung’ (2013, 286)]) is nevertheless partly aligned with Waismann’s proclamation here; see Vrahimis 2020, 11. 69 See Vrahimis 2020, 11. 70 Russell’s earlier criticisms of Bergson instigated this type of criticism, gradually influencing the Vienna Circle’s anti-metaphysical stance; see Vrahimis 2022b. 71 I owe many thanks to Shunichi Takagi and Pascal Zambito for inviting me to contribute this chapter to their volume, and for all their editorial work. I also owe thanks to Benoît Berthelier for his insightful comments.

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3 Philosophy as Work on Oneself Wittgenstein, Nietzsche, and Paul Ernst1 Stefan Majetschak 1 Wittgenstein’s Reception of Nietzsche and Its Context In a note of 16 January 1931, Wittgenstein accorded Nietzsche’s thought a high rank. ‘Nietzsche’, he wrote, had ‘perhaps’ ‘passed close’ to problems which he himself never [tackles] […]. Problems of the intellectual world of the West which Beethoven (& perhaps Goethe to a certain extent) tackled & wrestled with but which no philosopher has ever confronted […]. (CV 1998, 11; MS 110, 12; WA3.154) Nietzsche belongs to those authors with whom Wittgenstein was concerned early on. He reads him in a context of other readings that makes it clear that he hoped for inspiration from all these authors with regard to the question of a ‘right view’ of the world, a view that – as he believed – would make the ethical problem of life, so pressing to him not least in the years of the First World War, ‘disappear’.2 At that time, between 1914 and 1916, when he was only gradually developing the basic ideas of his first and only published book during his lifetime, the Logisch-Philosophische Abhandlung, which is today usually referred to as Tractatus, he did not yet have a clear idea of what such a view should be and how it could be achieved in philosophy, according to the penultimate sentence of his book.3 He works ‘a lot’, as his diaries record in numerous places, on logical-philosophical problems on the one hand, for which he owes ‘in large measure the stimulation of [his] thoughts’ to ‘the great works of Frege and [his] friend Bertrand Russell’ (TLP 1922, Preface, 2), and on his ethical problems on the other hand, ‘but without real clarity of vision’ (GT, 12.11.14). He lacks ‘an overview [Überblick], and as a result the problem’ – one must assume: his logical as well as ethical problem – ‘appears unsurveyable [unübersehbar]’. (GT, 25.9.14) He struggles for a long time to find the ‘redeeming word’ [erlösende Wort]

DOI: 10.4324/9781003219071-5

78  Stefan Majetschak (GT, 21.11.14 and GT, 22.11.144) on both questions. He looks for guidance in his readings. He reads ‘Tolstoy’s “Elucidations of the Gospels”’ (GT, 2/9/1914) which he ‘constantly’ carries with him for weeks ‘like a talisman’ (11/10/14), as well as Emerson’s Essays which have, he believes, ‘a good influence’ on him (15/11/14). ‘One month after reading Emerson’, in December 1914, ‘Wittgenstein buys volume 8 of Nietzsche’s works in Kraków’ (published Leipzig 1904),5 which contains poetry, the late texts The Case of Wagner, Twilight of the Idols, Nietzsche contra Wagner, The Antichrist as well as parts of what was at the time considered Nietzsche’s unfinished opus magnum, The Will to Power; Wittgenstein is ‘strongly moved’ by Nietzsche’s ‘hostility towards Christianity’ (8/12/14) From the documents on his biographic and philosophical development, even from McGuinness’ very detailed work on Young Wittgenstein, we cannot decide if he read Tolstoy, Emerson and Nietzsche merely because he found these writings by chance, or if they were – especially in this constellation – motivated by other incitements than those by Frege and Russell. It can hardly be determined either how these readings contributed in detail to what he at different times considered ‘the right view’ of the world. What he meant by his vague remark from 1931 about problems which only ­Nietzsche of all philosophers, but not Wittgenstein himself, had touched,6 remains just as open a question in Wittgenstein scholarship as what he found remarkable, especially in the case of Nietzsche in the 1930s. Maybe this question was not even considered particularly important, since Wittgenstein’s reading of volume 8 of Nietzsche’s works in 1914 as well as his reading of further texts by Nietzsche in the 1930s and 40s7 seems at first sight to have left no more than rudimentary marks in his own writings. McGuinness assumes it might have been Nietzsche’s repeated emphasis on writing for few readers only which impressed Wittgenstein, perhaps even for a readership that did not even exist at the time. Nietzsche’s preface to the Antichrist begins with the words ‘This book belongs to the very few. Perhaps none of them is yet alive’ (A, Preface). And McGuinness rightly highlights that these words are surely ‘echoed in the preface of the Tractatus, and even more strikingly in Wittgenstein’s later remark that he thought he was writing for a race of men who would think in a quite different way from us’;8 in any case for no more than ‘a small circle’.9 Unmistakable echoes of Nietzsche can in fact be found in another text by Wittgenstein, namely in those passages of the Big Typescript which he labelled with the heading Philosophy, where he said more on his conception of philosophy than anywhere else in his work. Based on this text, I shall in the following suggest a conjecture – not more! – about how Nietzsche could have been relevant for Wittgenstein in the years of the First World War as well as in the early 1930s. According to this conjecture, Paul Ernst’s interpretation of Nietzsche might have been not only a motivation to read Nietzsche, but also a source of Wittgenstein’s own

Philosophy as Work on Oneself  79 conception of p ­ hilosophy.10 This conjecture cannot be proven philologically with the c­urrent state of documents on Wittgenstein’s development. For ­unfortunately Wittgenstein used to ‘give no sources’ for his thoughts ­because it was ‘a matter of indifference’ to him whether what he had thought had been ­‘anticipated by someone else’ (TLP 1961, Preface); even if such sources existed. Nevertheless the conjecture can perhaps be given a certain ­plausibility if a main feature of Wittgenstein’s understanding of philosophy in the Big Typescript is considered as well as the appeals to Nietzsche in this text. Although Wittgenstein’s explanation of his concept of philosophy in the Big Typescript has numerous parallels to the later Philosophical Investigations, which manifest themselves in, partly literal, agreements of both texts, he here emphasises an aspect of working on philosophy that is less explicit in the later work. ‘Working on philosophy’, he writes here, is, ‘similar to what working in architecture is often like – actually more’ than working on so-called factual problems ‘working on oneself. On one’s own understanding. On the way one sees things. (And on what one demands of them.)’ (BT, 407/300e). Precisely this task of philosophy could have been connected by Wittgenstein to Nietzsche’s name via the mediation of Paul Ernst, as shall be shown. To substantiate this claim, I shall first outline why philosophy was for Wittgenstein in a decisive sense ‘work on oneself’; subsequently I shall point out by means of Nietzschean traces in the Big Typescript that this concept of philosophy was anticipated by Paul Ernst’s interpretation of Nietzsche which Wittgenstein could have known, either through his own reading or through conversations with the Olmütz Circle around architect Paul Engelmann. 2 ‘Philosophy’ in the Big Typescript That philosophy must essentially be a work on one’s own perspective, which has to be done by each one individually, is connected to the specific difficulties which, according to Wittgenstein’s presentation in the Big Typescript, counter the attempt to cure philosophical thinking from the temptation to see the world in the light of those ‘false analogies’ (BT, 409/302e) which natural language – that ‘enormous net of well-preserved/viable meanders’ – time and again imposes on our thinking. Such false analogies, according to a diagnosis often repeated since the 1930s, derive from the fact that the grammar of our natural language is lacking ‘surveyability’ (BT, 417/308e);11 as a result, not only our ordinary thinking, but also the philosophical thinking of the tradition, is seduced to get caught in the net of language and, therefore, to regard as analogous phenomena of the world which are essentially uncomparable such as phenomena of the physical and the mental sphere (WA3.209). Thus the ‘primitive forms of our language – noun, adjective and verb – show the simple picture to whose form

80  Stefan Majetschak language tries to reduce everything’ (BT, 434/317e). On the surface, our language treats all phenomena according to this image. And as long as one does not look closer, one may easily believe that a sentence like ‘I know where Japan is’ speaks about an individuable, however obscure and unseizable, inner process in the same way as the sentence ‘I travel to Japan’ speaks about a process that is localisable in space and time. We lack, according to Wittgenstein, the overview over the very different grammars of verbs like ‘know’ and ‘travel’. And thus we are tempted to interpret basically uncomparable phenomena by means of the same pattern. As expressed in MS 110, from which many remarks were transferred to the Big Typescript, such false analogies are the actual morbus philosophicus (MS 110, 86; WA3.209) which traditional metaphysics, according to Wittgenstein, suffers from. Especially when it assumes, in the spirit of a philosophia perennis, ‘that the same problems occupy us which occupied already the Greeks’, it does not see that it is basically still misled by the same false analogy, because our language has remained constant and keeps seducing us into asking the same questions. So long as there is a verb “be” that seems to function like “eat” and “drink”, or ‘so long as there are the adjectives “identical”, “true”, “false”, “possible”’ (BT, 424/312e), which can be misinterpreted as predicable properties, such false analogisations cannot be completely avoided. While he believed that he could work against them by means of a ‘surveyable representation’ (BT, 417/307e)12 of the language-games that we actually play with these words in our natural language, he also saw that for someone who in principle sees through them, they still mean a ‘constant battle and uneasiness (a constant irritant, as it were)’ (BT, 409/ 302e). It is as if something seems to be a human being from afar, because at that distance we don’t perceive certain things, but from close up we see that it is a tree stump. The moment we move away a little and lose sight of the explanations, one figure appears to us; if after that we look more closely, we see a different figure; now we move away again, etc., etc. (ibid.) Thus the disquieting temptation to a misleading perspective returns again and again – also to Wittgenstein himself as we must assume. The reason for this is given in general terms in the Big Typescript. For Wittgenstein generally explains this tendency to relapse into a misleading perspective of things with a gap that opens up time and again, for ordinary as well as for philosophical thinking, ‘between understanding the subject’,

Philosophy as Work on Oneself  81 which would be in principle possible in a certain perspective, ‘and what most people want to see’ (BT, 406–407/300e–301e). What most people want to see is an image of things in analogy to established patterns of interpretation handed down by their language. This will is deeply anchored in the thinking of people, because it is connected ‘with the oldest thought habits, i.e. with the oldest images that are engraved into our language itself’ (BT, 423/311e); for this reason it is difficult to bring them to a changed perspective which also recognises the false analogisations, which come up in the course of this process, as misleading. In this consists the whole ‘difficulty of philosophy’ (BT, 406/300e), as Wittgenstein holds in the Big Typescript. For this difficulty, he writes, is ‘not the intellectual difficulty of the sciences’, which rests on the complexity of the respective scientific problem; rather it is the ‘difficulty of restructuring’ (ibid.) our perspective. ‘[N]ot a difficulty of the intellect, but of the will’ has to be ‘overcome’ in philosophy (BT, 407/300e) – which, however, cannot be achieved easily for reasons that are important and instructive for Wittgenstein’s understanding of philosophy. For the problem of restructuring our perspective suffers from the difficulty that Wittgenstein now, having definitively left behind the premises of his early work, cannot provide a criterion for the ‘right’ perspective of things which shall be achieved by means of the work on philosophy. And this is probably why, in the Big Typescript, he no longer calls the perspective that he is concerned with, the ‘right one’. For he is now lacking a criterion of distinction which allows, like formerly the picture theory, distinguishing adequate ways of speaking from inadequate ones. Therefore the restructuring of perspective, which shall be achieved by means of philosophical work, can no longer be, as it were, enforced with criteria and arguments such that someone who views the world in the light of metaphysics must accept it as binding for his or her thoughts. The reason is that there cannot be objective criteria to distinguish ‘right’ from ‘false’ perspectives, or ‘adequate’ from ‘inadequate’ ways of speaking simply because, as Wittgenstein is now convinced, we do not have anything but our ordinary language of the everyday, with all its contingent being such, to find orientation in the world; and nobody has such a complete overview over the world and the language which would enable us to distinguish bindingly between ways of speaking that are adequate to phenomena and those that are inadequate. Unlike many interpreters believe up to this day, the use of everyday language with its apparent primordiality in contrast to the language of metaphysics, cannot serve as a criterion of distinction. Wittgenstein may seem to contrast it with the philosophers’ metaphysical use of language when he writes in the Big Typescript (like later in Philosophical Investigations):

82  Stefan Majetschak When philosophers use a word and search for its meaning, one must always ask oneself: Is this word ever really used this way in the language for which it has been created?13 (BT, 430/315e) But in their changeability and unsurveyability, which Wittgenstein perceives as a problem, the language-games of everyday life can never actually achieve this. ‘Philosophy’, as Wittgenstein now understands it, ‘may not in any way infringe upon the […] /actual/ use of language’ precisely because in its found contingency it ‘cannot justify it either’ (BT, 417/308e; translation modified14) and accordingly, of course, cannot prove that it should be given preference over the language of metaphysics for binding reasons! If Wittgenstein’s method of describing everyday language-games in ‘surveyable representations’ since the 1930s aims to ‘create a clear order’ in the unsurveyable relationships of natural language (BT, 415/307e), he cannot for that reason be concerned at all with cataloguing the supposedly ‘objectively correct’ uses of words in everyday language by means of such representations. What he wishes to describe is ‘one of many possible orders’ of language, ‘not the order’ (PI §132). Every such ‘description gets its light – that is to say, its purpose – from the philosophical problems’ (PI §109/my emphasis) to which it is related. And this shows what Wittgenstein actually means when he brings the philosophical use of words in metaphysical criticism back to their everyday use:15 He means that the everyday use of words – just like the ‘clear and simple language games’ he occasionally invents – can be used ‘as an object of comparison’, i.e. ‘as a sort of yardstick’ (PI §131), not in the sense of a criterion for distinguishing ‘correctness’ and ‘incorrectness’, but as something only in comparison with which a metaphysical use of language can become recognisable to philosophically troubled thinking as a false analogy. It is not a question of ‘right’ or ‘wrong’ or any other criteria-based decisions, but only of the insight, which can be gained in comparison with everyday language under certain circumstances, but by no means inevitably, that in ‘philosophy’ often ‘words whose meanings are familiar to us from everyday life’ are ‘used in an ultraphysical sense’ (BT, 429/315e) due to unrecognised transpositions: for example, when we try to understand the human ‘spirit’ in a false analogy with the grammar of words for physical objects as an ultraphysical, intangible object. ‘If I rectify a philosophical mistake’, Wittgenstein therefore wrote in the Big Typescript, ‘I must always point out an analogy according to which one had been thinking, but which one did not recognize as an analogy’ (BT, 408–409/302e). In comparison with everyday language, it can be recognised clearly and, if applicable, as false. This insight can eliminate the disquiet that results from the fact that we always want to think of the mind

Philosophy as Work on Oneself  83 as a kind of thing, but nevertheless feel that it cannot be such a thing. And this is what really concerns Wittgenstein. ‘As I do philosophy’, he notes in the Big Typescript, ‘its entire task is to shape expression in such a way that certain disquietudes disappear’ (BT, 421/310e; translation modified), by no means that of opposing philosophy’s metaphysical use of language with a supposedly more appropriate one. ‘The problems’ are then, when the disquieting has disappeared through recognition of the false analogy that underlies them, ‘solved in the literal sense of the word – dissolved like a lump of sugar in water’ (ibid.). They no longer exist and no longer trouble us, because a perspective has been reached in which thinking ‘comes to rest’ (BT, 431/316e; translation modified) or – as Wittgenstein puts it elsewhere – to the actual ‘goal someone who philosophizes longs for’: ‘Thoughts at peace’ (CV 1998, 50). When this is the case, for Wittgenstein, the view which work on philosophy aims at is reached. Comparable to the ethical solution to the problem of life in the Tractatus, one recognises it in the disappearance of the problem. If one really takes Wittgenstein’s determination of the goal of philosophy seriously – and one has every reason to do so – it is not wrong to regard this goal as an ethical one even in his late philosophy. But, as said, it is not easy to get there. The resistances of the will that have to be overcome in the shift of view are difficult to break. At the time he compiled the Big Typescript, working on it must indeed have seemed to Wittgenstein an almost-agonising undertaking, for he speaks of overcoming the difficulty of philosophy with concepts of ‘torment’ and ‘redemption’. The disquieting of thought by an inscrutable philosophical problem seemed to him to be comparable to some extent to the ‘torment’ of a Sisyphus-like ‘ascetic’ who ‘stands there lifting’ his problem like ‘a heavy ball above his head, amid groans, and whom someone sets free by telling him: “Drop it”’ (BT, 416/307e). Of course, the remark ‘drop it’ is usually not enough for someone who is really struggling with a philosophical problem, and this is where the comparison is flawed. Rather, in his work of liberation, the ‘philosopher’ must strive for what Wittgenstein himself has always struggled for since the early diaries: ‘to find the redeeming word, and that is the word that finally permits us to grasp what until then had constantly and intangibly weighed on our consciousness’ (BT, 409/302e; translation modified). Finding this ‘redeeming word’ is so difficult because no account of the language-games of a natural language must necessarily convince those who remain attached to the language of metaphysics that their use of language, which differs from the everyday, is wrong or somehow illegitimate. And in this respect, for Wittgenstein’s attempts of criticism of metaphysics in his late work to prove traditional philosophical theories to be ‘houses of cards’ (PI §118) made of false analogies, there are also no intersubjectively

84  Stefan Majetschak binding criteria according to which they would necessarily be accepted by rational speakers of a natural language. For this reason, Wittgenstein can ultimately only ‘convict a person’, who is caught up in the language of metaphysics, ‘of an error’ if he or she also ‘acknowledges’ the hint at a possibly false linguistic analogy as convincing (BT, 410/303e). Since this is by no means achieved by any arbitrary analysis of ordinary word usages, Wittgenstein reckons that the ‘choice’ of his ‘words […] is so important’, because ‘it is necessary to hit the physiognomy’ of what the metaphysician thinks ‘exactly’ (BT, 410/303e), i.e. ‘to trace the physiognomy of every error’, and to do so in such a way that the ‘reader’ of his investigations who tends to a metaphysical view ‘says, “Yes, that’s exactly the way I meant it”’ (BT, 410/303e). Only if one ‘acknowledges’ of one’s own accord, without being compelled to do so by any (supposedly irrefutable) linguistic analyses, that the ‘analogy’ to which Wittgenstein points them was really the ‘source of their thought’, will one possibly be prepared to admit its falsity, which, as Wittgenstein sees it, brings convincing philosophical analyses considerably closer to ‘psychoanalysis’ (ibid.), whose therapeutic successes are just as much based on the patient’s interpretive acceptance as the ‘therapies’ (PI §133) that he himself proposes for philosophical disturbances.16 In both cases, each person must themselves carry out the insight that ‘redeems’ them from the respective disturbances. This is the reason why philosophical work on a view of things that makes philosophical problems disappear is something of which nobody can be relieved, but it must always be work on oneself for everyone in the decisive sense. 3 Traces of Nietzsche in the Big Typescript and the Nietzsche Interpretation by Paul Ernst In the passages of the Big Typescript in which Wittgenstein unfolds the suggestive notion of ‘philosophy as work on oneself’, there are some remarks that will recall Nietzsche to those of Wittgenstein’s readers who are familiar with both works: not least to Nietzsche motifs from Twilight of the Idols, which was included in the volume of the Nietzsche-Werkausgabe that Wittgenstein owned. Some of these correspondences, if one does not really believe in Nietzsche’s relevance for Wittgenstein, can be dismissed as coincidences or even as far-fetched associations of the reader who knows Nietzsche and Wittgenstein: For example, when someone feels reminded of Nietzsche’s description of the ‘case of the philosopher’ who gets ‘destroyed by a weight he can neither carry nor throw off’ (TI, 157) in Wittgenstein’s characterisation of the philosopher’s situation as the ‘torment’ of an ‘ascetic […] lifting’ his problems (BT, 416/307e). The same is true when one hears in Wittgenstein’s remark ‘All that philosophy can do is to destroy idols’ (BT, 413/305e), an echo of Nietzsche’s project of ‘sounding out idols’

Philosophy as Work on Oneself  85 in its entirety: those ‘eternal idols’ of the metaphysical tradition of philosophy, which in his writing are ‘touched with the hammer’ of devastating linguistic-philosophical criticism ‘as with a tuning fork’ (TI, Preface) in order to expose them as hollow by sound. Those who already see the alleged thematic correspondence in these two cases as owing to interpretative violence will certainly do so to an even greater extent with the suggestions that Nietzsche considers in his writing the ‘peace of the soul’ (TI, 173) that Wittgenstein’s later philosophy strives for, that he, too, regards the right ‘seeing’, that it is philosophically necessary to ‘learn’, as dependent on overcoming the will (TI, 190), or that he, too, wished to ‘do justice’ (TI, 186: ‘to be fair’ – ‘gerecht zu sein’) to the object of his critique, as Wittgenstein described it in the Big Typescript with the same words as his ‘task’ (BT, 420/309e). All these correspondences cannot prove that they actually go back to Wittgenstein’s reading memories, because the ‘seed’ of the inspiration, even if it really existed, fell on a ‘soil’ in which it grew differently ‘than it would in any other soil’ (CV 1998, 42). And this has often led him to recontextualisations of the adopted inspirations that no longer have much to do with the textual meaning of the source. Certainly, there is at least one place in the Big Typescript where Wittgenstein’s adoption of a thought motif that originates genuinely from Nietzsche is so clearly in Nietzsche’s sense that Wittgenstein’s reference to him can hardly be disputed: It is found where Wittgenstein speaks of a principal limit to his project of tearing ‘people’ out of those ‘philosophical i.e. grammatical confusions’ in which they are so ‘deeply […] imbedded’ (BT, 423/311e). To do this, as Wittgenstein writes, one must actually ‘regroup their entire language’ (ibid.). But this does not work for everyone. For this language emerged /developed/ as it did because human beings had – and have – the tendency to think in this way. Therefore extricating them only works with those who live in an instinctive state of rebellion against /dissatisfaction with/ language. Not with those who, following all of their instincts, live within the very herd that has created this language as its proper expression. (ibid. translation modified) Right down to the terminology, Wittgenstein refers here to one of Nietzsche’s basic ideas in his philosophy of language: the idea that the development of a natural language does not primarily reflect the subtle needs and expressive interests of a few individuals, but the ‘inclination’ of a broad mass of people to ‘think’ in a certain way. Nietzsche disparagingly calls this mass the ‘herd’ on the basis of his high esteem for large, single individuals, which need not be pursued further here. This is what lets him

86  Stefan Majetschak speak with regard to language of the fact that in it ‘the herd instinct’ comes, so to speak, to ‘words’ (GM I, §2; p. 12). For even if the ‘origin of language’ should go back to a ‘seigneurial privilege of giving names’, i.e. to a ‘manifestation of power’ (ibid.) of, initially, a few individuals, as Nietzsche once speculated, one must nevertheless interpret ‘the history of language’ as a whole as ‘the history of a process of abbreviation’, which at all times primarily aims at enabling all people ‘to quickly comprehend’ each other through the use of general signs, by means of which they can refer to numerous objects in abbreviated form. They need this out of ‘necessity’ (BGE §268), because man as a species, regarded as ‘the most endangered animal’, needed ‘help and protection, he needed his peers, he had to learn to express his distress and to make himself understood’ (GS, V, §354). According to Nietzsche, this universal need for communication conditions the development of language, whose history thus appears as the history of the development of the signs available for abbreviated communication. Since these signs – the words of language – as markers for possibilities of abbreviated reference will then naturally express the herd’s own worldview, Nietzsche also calls them ‘herd signal’ [Heerden-Merkzeichen] (ibid.). Because the ‘conscious thinking’ of man takes place ‘in words, that is, in signs of communication’, which in the respective manner of abbreviated reference to things are originally oriented to the thinking of the herd, and ‘the development of language and the development of consciousness’ go ‘hand in hand’ for humans, this has the consequence, according to Nietzsche, that what man consciously thinks about the world is always ‘translated back into the herd perspective’ solely through the use of language. Language as such suggests this perspective to him, thus leading him to consider surrogates of language – ‘falsification, reduction to superficialities, and generalisation’ (ibid.) in accordance with the worldview of the herd – to be an adequate view of things, to be ultimately knowledge and truth. Nietzsche considered complete liberation from such surrogates impossible. Wittgenstein, on the other hand, at least strove for it, but this did not seem possible for those ‘who, following all of their instincts, live within the very herd that has created this language as its proper expression’. Wittgenstein’s unambiguous and affirmative reference to Nietzsche's thoughts is astonishing; it can hardly be considered a terminological and intellectual coincidence of which he was unaware. It has probably not received interpretative attention so far because Wittgenstein does not even mention Nietzsche's name among the names he mentions in the Big Typescript as sources of inspiration for his concept of philosophy. We find, however, the name of the now largely forgotten neo-classical writer and philosophically ambitious literary theorist Paul Ernst (1866–1933). Given his influence on Wittgenstein’s thought, there are reasons to believe that Ernst’s interpretation of Nietzsche may have motivated Wittgenstein’s

Philosophy as Work on Oneself  87 undisclosed reference to Nietzsche not only in the years of the First World War, but even at the time of the compilation of the Big Typescript in the early 1930s. The most important one is probably that Wittgenstein’s concept of philosophy in the Big Typescript is, in essence, no different from the one that Paul Ernst highlights as Nietzsche’s. As we now know, Paul Ernst was an important inspiration for Wittgenstein.17 In the Big Typescript, Wittgenstein cites him as a source for the thesis that ‘in the forms of our language’, i.e. in the modes of expression and linguistic images that we ‘count among our own’, supposedly enlightened ‘vocabulary’, ‘an entire mythology is laid down’ (BT, 434/317e). Ernst, of course, was of considerable importance to Wittgenstein much earlier. In 1931, on the way to a second philosophical book, he noted: If my book is ever published, its preface must commemorate Paul Ernst’s preface to Grimm’s Fairy Tales, which already in the Log. Phil. Abhandlung should have been mentioned as the source of the expression ‘misunderstanding the logic of language’. (WA3.266) And if he had really done this when he claimed in the preface to the Tractatus that ‘philosophical problems’ of traditional provenance are based on a ‘misunderstanding of the logic of our language’ (TLP 1922, Preface), research would probably have been spared numerous one-sided interpretations that were able to see the Tractatus exclusively in the perspective of Frege and Russell’s problems. Wittgenstein probably already owned Paul Ernst’s edition of Grimm’s Fairy Tales when he studied with Russell before the First World War.18 In its afterword, which Wittgenstein mistakenly recalled as a preface19 about twenty years later, Paul Ernst was not concerned with philosophical questions. Rather, here he traced the logic of poetic imagination embedded in the historical development of mythical fairy-tale materials and motifs. In the wake of this project he – to put it very briefly – assumed that the ‘process’ of this development was ‘essentially always that’: ‘a problem’ of the credibility of a traditional material or motif, ‘insoluble by’ the respective contemporary ‘experience of reality’, was ‘solved by the poetic imagination through an invented rationalising story’,20 which adapted the older, no longer comprehensible motif to contemporary standards of acceptability. The reasons Ernst gives for such rationalising reinterpretations of outmoded literary motifs provided the young Wittgenstein with a decisive stimulus. For, according to Ernst, in the history of the development of a literary motif, rationalising reinterpretations became necessary, among other things, ‘through transformations of language’, as a consequence of which ‘a later

88  Stefan Majetschak time no longer understood the logic of language of the past and interpreted it through inventions’. As it seems, Wittgenstein simply applied this thought to philosophy in the Tractatus when he wrote that ‘[m]ost questions and propositions of the philosophers result from the fact that we do not understand the logic of our language’ (TLP 1922 4.003), and therefore tend to misleadingly interpret it in metaphysical theories. At least, this is how the connections appear, if one is prepared to believe Wittgenstein’s self-interpretation in his 1931 note. In it, however, he also writes that Ernst’s afterword should also be commemorated in the preface to his second book, to the preliminary stages of which the Big Typescript belongs. If he had done so – and in the preface to the Philosophical Investigations of 1945 he did not! – he would have had to include another aspect of Ernst’s afterword, as is clear in the Big Typescript. Here he should have referred to Ernst’s idea that the ‘power of man’ to invent rationalising myths that serve the interpretation of the world had shifted in modern times from literature to natural science.21 In this sense, according to Ernst, ‘we perhaps’ find ‘mythology in the various understandings of history, in Darwinism, in Kant-Laplace’s theory’ etc.; indeed, he certainly regarded ‘Darwin’s theory’ as ‘a grandiose mythology’.22 Wittgenstein, who probably shared this view precisely with regard to Darwinian theory (cf. APR, 26), went beyond Paul Ernst by also seeing mythology at work, mostly unrecognized, in the traditional images and forms of language. Although only his acquaintance with Ernst’s afterword to the edition of Grimm’s Fairy Tales is philologically verifiable, it may be assumed that Wittgenstein was certainly familiar – directly or indirectly – with other texts and ideas by Paul Ernst, as Josef Rothhaupt has been able to show. For, ‘once Wittgenstein had found inspiration and thought-provoking impulses in a work by a writer, scientist or philosopher, he took a closer interest in this author and in further works by him’.23 In the case of Paul Ernst’s writings, this is especially probable because it is now known that in the Olmütz circle around the architect Paul Engelmann, of which Wittgenstein was a member as a soldier in 1916, Ernst was ‘much talked about’.24 In these conversations, Wittgenstein cannot have failed to notice, against the background of his own Nietzsche reading of 1914, that Ernst was influenced by Nietzsche to an extraordinarily strong degree. For the reading of Nietzsche had ‘a deep after-effect’ on Paul Ernst, as the executor and editor of his Nachlass Karl August Kutzbach writes; from 1890 onwards, he repeatedly dealt with Nietzsche in numerous texts, who became ‘increasingly important’25 to him ‘as a critic of the times and as a fighter for new high values of life’.26 Particularly noteworthy with regard to Wittgenstein is his text Friedrich Nietzsche from 1900,27 with whose fundamental thesis Wittgenstein was supposedly familiar; – even if perhaps only from the conversations in the Olmütz circle.

Philosophy as Work on Oneself  89 If Wittgenstein had also known Ernst’s Nietzsche interpretation from his own reading, he could have found references here to Nietzsche’s critique of metaphysics based on his philosophy of language, according to which traditional concepts such as ‘spirit’, ‘soul’, ‘will’ etc. are merely linguistic hypostatizations, i.e. ‘fictions’28, which – as he says in Twilight of Idols – have our language as ‘a constant advocate’ (TI, 169); – a critique of metaphysics comparable to his own in more than external respects. And he should then also have known from Paul Ernst that Nietzsche, in the context of his distinction between a ‘master and slave morality’, speaks of the ‘herd’ which, according to Wittgenstein’s exposition in the Big Typescript, ‘created language’, as it has come down to us, ‘as its very expression’. If this were so, then it cannot also be ruled out that Wittgenstein came across this text even before the Olmütz conversations about Paul Ernst, shortly after his reading of the afterword to the Grimm’s Fairy Tales. For this would explain what may have motivated the young Wittgenstein at the beginning of the First World War to read Tolstoy, Emerson and Nietzsche as mentioned at the beginning. In Ernst’s interpretation of Nietzsche, Tolstoy and Emerson form the points of reference with regard to which Paul Ernst endeavours to elaborate Nietzsche’s concept of philosophy. But this circumstance, which may be nothing more than a coincidence, is not decisive here, where we are primarily concerned with Wittgenstein’s concept of philosophy in the Big Typescript. More important in this context is what Ernst then says about the underlying intention of Nietzsche’s philosophizing. In the very first sentence of his text, he emphasises what always interested Wittgenstein about Nietzsche,29 namely ‘that he wrote only for “the few”’30 who were able to understand a ‘writer as difficult to read as Nietzsche’31 at all: ‘Anyone who takes him purely at his word will soon run into inextricable and foolish contradictions.’32 His philosophical writing can only be adequately understood if one sees that in Nietzsche an understanding of philosophy is expressed to perfection that ‘Emerson’ had already admired ‘in his essay on Goethe […]: that philosophy is to be considered as ‘work on oneself’. According to Ernst, ‘Nietzsche is one of the noblest and bravest representatives of this urge’.33 And so he tries to make fundamental motifs of Nietzsche’s thinking – such as his critique of Christianity,34 which touched the young Wittgenstein so much when he read Antichrist – understandable from the fact that Nietzsche was concerned in his writings with overcoming his own preconceptions of his intellectual biography, precisely with philosophising as ‘going back to one’s own personality, working on oneself’.35 For him, ‘thinking was a very personal thing for a personal goal’, which Wittgenstein also shared in the Big Typescript: in thinking, not so much to arrive at new theories, but rather ‘to come to rest’.36 Irrespective of Nietzsche’s theories on language and morality in detail, which are to be

90  Stefan Majetschak taken with a pinch of salt, Nietzsche’s philosophical achievement for Ernst consists precisely in such a determination of the goal of philosophy, which the philosopher has to accomplish ‘through his and his followers’ work, each in himself’.37 His ‘great deed’ was therefore that he had once again ‘set up an ethical goal for philosophy’,38 regardless of what philosophical positions he may have held at different times.39 Such a conception of philosophy, whether adequate as a Nietzsche interpretation or not, is likely to have met with Wittgenstein’s approval, because it corresponds to his own view of philosophy still at the time of the work on the Big Typescript in a decisive fundamental trait. Even if he did not know Ernst’s text from his own reading, its presentation of Nietzsche’s understanding of philosophy long before he himself unfolded a concept of philosophy as ‘work on oneself’ – was probably a topic in the conversations in the Olmütz circle around the architect Paul Engelmann: something that at least Engelmann acknowledged, and which the two of them perhaps even talked about again when they jointly built the house for Wittgenstein’s sister in Vienna in the mid-1920s. For otherwise the fact that when Wittgenstein expresses a comparable understanding of philosophy himself, he explicitly mentions that not only the ‘work on philosophy’ but ‘in many cases’ also ‘the work on architecture’ is to be understood as a ‘work on oneself’ (BT, 407/275) would remain at least an oddity. If such a concept of philosophy was indeed associated in Wittgenstein’s memory with the names of Nietzsche and Ernst, it is not surprising that in a context in which he unfolds it, traces of Nietzsche are found alongside mentions of Paul Ernst. Notes 1 The present essay is a translation of ‘Philosophie als Arbeit an sich selbst. Wittgenstein, Nietzsche und Paul Ernst’ in Wittgensteins ,große Maschinenschrift‘. Untersuchungen zum philosophischen Ort des Big Typescripts (TS 213) im Werk Ludwig Wittgensteins, ed. by Stefan Majetschak 2006, Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang, 61–78. The translation was made by the editors of the present volume. 2 In the so-called Geheime Tagebücher, where Wittgenstein’s ethical concern is clearer than in the philosophical (uncoded) remarks or in the published text of the Tractatus, he puts this concern in the form of a question: ‘How must I thus live to persist in every moment? To live in the good and in the beautiful until life ends on its own’ (GT, 7/10/1914). The urgency of such questions presumably motivated Wittgenstein to write – perhaps a bit too pointedly – in a now famous letter from 1919 to Ludwig Ficker that the ‘sense’ of his first ‘book’ was ‘an ethical one’ (CC 20/10/1919). Based on this passage, Allan Janik and Stephen Toulmin have first advanced an interpretation of Wittgenstein that construes the Tractatus not only in terms of its convergence with theoretical themes from Frege and Russell (Janik and Toulmin 1973). Since then many have followed Janik and Toulmin’s line of interpretation. See, for instance, Hughes

Philosophy as Work on Oneself  91 2001, who speaks of Wittgenstein’s ‘ethical intention’ (74), as well as Majetschak 2000, 127. 3 Numerous interpreters have already pointed to the fact that the Tractatus not only deals with logical-philosophical problems, but also strives for a ‘right view’ of the world (see for example Gabriel 1978, 357; Scheier 1991, 24; Diamond 1991, 86). That Wittgenstein hoped for a solution to the ‘problem of life’ from such a view has also been emphasised by Matthias Kroß (2004, 98). The penultimate proposition of the Tractatus says that the understanding reader will reach it precisely by overcoming the propositions of the Tractatus and not at all by affirming them – ‘he who understands me finally recognizes them as senseless’: the Tractatus decrees in its characteristically apodictic form ‘He must surmount these propositions; then he sees the world rightly.’ (TLP 1922, 6.54) On the interpretation of this at first sight paradoxical self-cancellation of the Tractatus theory in favour of a ‘right view’ of the world, see Majetschak 2000, 124ff. 4 Cf. also GT, 17/10/14. 5 See McGuinness 1988, 225; cf. MS 102, 39v. 6 From the context of this remark we can assume that these problems must have been connected to being able to experience and describe the ‘progress’ of ‘Western Culture as an epos’ (cf. note 1). 7 At the beginning of the 1930s, Wittgenstein concerned himself with Nietzsche repeatedly. This is confirmed not only by the quoted remark from 1931, but also by a diary entry from 1930 where he calls his own time ‘a revaluation of all values’ of which Nietzsche had spoken at the beginning of his preface to Twilight of the Idols. (MS 183, 35; cf. TI 2005, 155). Another mention of Nietzsche can be found in [a remark from] 1947 which suggests that Wittgenstein must have known Nietzsche’s Human All Too Human as well (quote from Culture and Value). 8 McGuinness 1988, 225, note 26. 9 See MS 110, 18, where this remark stands close to Wittgenstein’s express admiration for Nietzsche, cf. note 1. 10 By contrast, Janet Lungstrum takes Fritz Mauthner’s Beiträge zu einer Kritik der Sprache (1901/02) as well as his Wörterbuch der Philosophie (1910/11) as an ‘important bridge between Nietzsche and Wittgenstein’ (Lungstrum 1995, 302). Most studies that compare the relation between the two, however, ignore the question of any direct or indirect influence of Nietzsche on Wittgenstein; they focus on the analysis of systematic similarities and differences. See, for instance the works by Kyle Wallace 1973, Meredith Williams 1988 and Daniel Steuer 1995 as well as Shoshana Ronen 2002. 11 The German concepts ‘Übersicht’, ‘Übersichtlichkeit’, and ‘Übersichtliche Darstellung’ play a central role in Wittgenstein’s later philosophy. As Peter Hacker already noticed in 1972, an adequate English translation of these terms has ‘given Wittgenstein’s translators much trouble. They have chosen to translate it non-systematically in conformity with the demands of English style, thereby partially obscuring the significance and pervasiveness of the concept in Wittgenstein’s work, e.g. “command a clear view” (Übersehen PI, § 122); “perspicuous representation” (Übersichtliche Darstellung PI, § 122); “synoptic account” (Übersichtliche Darstellung Z, § 273); ‘Survey’ (Übersicht Z, § 273); “synoptic view” (Übersichtlichkeit Z, § 464); “perspicuity” (Übersichtlichkeit RFM, 45); “capable of being taken in” (Übersehbar RFM, 81).’ (Hacker 1972, 113–114, fn. 3) Elsewhere I have argued that the terms ‘survey’ (Übersicht),

92  Stefan Majetschak ‘surveyability’ (Übersichtlichkeit) and ‘surveyable representation’ (übersichtliche Darstellung) most adequately represent what Wittgenstein had in mind (Majetschak 2016). 12 ‘The concept of surveyable representation’ describes – as I will specify later on – the fundamental methodological means for Wittgenstein since the early 1930s to strive for a ‘view of things’ in his own texts that allows for an overview. ‘It designates’, as he writes in the Big Typescript, ‘our form of representation, the way we look at things’ (BT, 417/307e). For a more detailed comment on this concept, see Majetschak 2000, 273ff. 13 See PI §116. On the question in what sense the everyday use of language can be seen as a measure of the metaphysical in Wittgenstein’s work, see Puhl 2004, 149 and following. 14 My emphasis. In the Big Typescript, Wittgenstein still oscillates between different alternatives of expression in this remark. In PI §124, he has decided for the version that is quoted above. 15 In the Big Typescript, the critique of philosophically misleading analogies is in fact still inexact: ‘We’re bringing words back from their metaphysical to their correct use in language’ (BT, 413/305e; my emphasis). Yet significantly, Wittgenstein corrected this wording in Philosophical Investigations where he writes more adequately: ‘We are bringing words back from their metaphysical to their everyday use’ (PI §116; my emphasis). For how should any speaker justify the ‘objective correctness’ of a certain use of language? 16 For more detailed explanations of the relation between psychoanalytic and philosophical ‘therapy’ according to Wittgenstein, see Majetschak 2010. 17 On Paul Ernst’s influence on Wittgenstein, see Paul Hübscher’s dissertation (1985), which also provides an overview over life and works of Paul Ernst, as well as Rothhaupt 1995 and Künne 1996. 18 See McGuinness 1988, 251–252. 19 This makes it unlikely that ‘Wittgenstein must have reread Ernst’s AFTERWORD at the beginning of the thirties’, as Wolfgang Künne holds (1996, note 34). For then he would presumably have noticed his mistake. 20 Ernst 1923, 308. According to Hübscher (1985, 75), this edition has the same text and pagination as the 1910 edition which Wittgenstein probably owned. 21 See Ernst 1923, 310. 22 Ernst 1923, 297 and 310. 23 Rothhaupt 1995 can support this claim with another example that is not contained in the afterword to Grimm’s Tales. 24 See McGuinness 1988. McGuinness discovered this in his biographical studies (251–252). 25 Kutzbach 1942, 388. 26 … which brought him the, from today’s perspective, questionable honour to access the circle of the Nietzsche-archive around Elisabeth Förster Nietzsche! See Kutzbach 1942, 389. 27 See Ernst’s text Friedrich Nietzsche, translated here from a slightly modified version from 1904 (Ernst 1942). 28 Ernst 1942, 206. 29 See McGuinness’s comment on the preface of the Tractatus and his later remarks on writing for a small circle (1988, 225, note 26). 30 Ernst 1942, 194. For Ernst, ‘[Nietzsche’s] doctrine shall only be valid for the few, while the many shall stick to the present values’ (209). 31 Ernst 1942, 195.

Philosophy as Work on Oneself  93 2 Ibid. 3 33 Ibid. 34 Ernst 1942, 195–196. 35 Ernst 1942, 218; cf. 219. 36 Ernst 1942, 202. 37 Ernst 1942, 219–220. 38 Ernst 1942, 222. 39 ‘Whether his positive doctrine – namely that this goal must be the “Superman”, the continuous nobilitation of the human race – will always and to everyone appear as this goal can surely not be unconditionally confirmed; this depends on general conditions under which humans live. Even more questionable are his historical and psychological genealogies and much more in his writings that may make him appear untrue and unveracious, and as a desperate masquerader. But this all doesn’t matter at all. That he had the courage to show us again a higher aim at all – this is enough to count him for ever among the greatest benefactors of mankind’ (cf. Ernst 1942, 222).

References Diamond, Cora. (1991). “Ethics, Imagination and the Method of Wittgenstein’s Tractatus,” In Bilder der Philosophie, eds. Richard Heinrich and Helmuth Vetter, 55–90. Wien/München: Oldenbourg Verlag. Ernst, Paul. (1923). “Nachwort,” In Kinder- und Hausmärchen gesammelt durch die Brüder Grimm (Vol. 3, 271–314). Berlin. ———. (1942). “Friedrich Nietzsche,” In Völker und Zeiten im Spiegel ihrer Dichtung. Aufsätze zur deutschen Literatur, ed. Karl August Kutzbach, 194–222. München: Albert Langen/Georg Müller. Gabriel, Gottfried. (1978). “Logik als Literatur? Zur Bedeutung des Literarischen bei Wittgenstein,” In Merkur 359, 353–362. Hacker, Peter M. S. (1972). Insight and Illusion. Wittgenstein on Philosophy and the Metaphysics of Experience. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Hübscher, Paul. (1985). Der Einfluß von Johann Wolfgang Goethe und Paul Ernst auf Ludwig Wittgenstein. Frankfurt am Main/Bern: Peter Lang Verlag. Hughes, Liam. (2001). “Wenn es einen Wert gibt, der Wert hat, so muß er ­außerhalb alles Geschehens und So-Seins liegen,” In Der Denker als Seiltänzer. Ludwig Wittgenstein über Religion, Mystik und Ethik, eds. Ulrich Arnswald and Anja Weiberg, 71–88. Düsseldorf: Parerga. Janik, Allan and Toulmin, Stephen. (1973). Wittgenstein’s Vienna. New York: ­Simon and Schuster. Kroß, Matthias. (2004). “Philosophie ohne Eigenschaften. Überlegungen zu ­Wittgensteins Philosophiebegriff,” In Erinnerung an Wittgenstein. ‘kein Sehen in die Vergangenheit’?, ed. Wilhelm Lütterfelds, 83–108. Frankfurt/Main: Peter Lang Verlag. Künne, Wolfgang. (1996). “Paul Ernst und Ludwig Wittgenstein,” Wittgenstein Studies, 1. www.phil.uni-passau.de/dlwg/ws05/18-1-96.txt Kutzbach, Karl August. (1942). “Anmerkungen und Ergänzungen,” In Völker und Zeiten im Spiegel ihrer Dichtung. Aufsätze zur deutschen Literatur, ed. Karl August Kutzbach. München: Albert Langen/Georg Müller.

94  Stefan Majetschak Lungstrum, Janet. (1995). “Wittgenstein and Nietzsche. Agonal Relations in Language,” In Deutsche Vierteljahrsschrift für Literaturwissenschaft und Geistesgeschichte, LXIV, 300–323. Majetschak, Stefan. (2000). Ludwig Wittgensteins Denkweg. Freiburg/München: Karl Alber. ———. (2010). “Psychoanalysis of grammatical misinterpretations: the relationship of Ludwig Wittgenstein with the work of Sigmund Freud,” In WittgensteinStudien 01, 151–170. ———. (2016). “Survey and Surveyability. Remarks on two central notions in Wittgenstein’s later philosophy,” Wittgenstein-Studien 07, 65–80. Puhl, Klaus. (2004). “Das Alltägliche als Kritik und Grenze der Metaphysik,” In Erinnerung an Wittgenstein. ‘kein Sehen in die Vergangenheit’?, ed. Wilhelm Lütterfelds, 149–166. Frankfurt/Main: Peter Lang Verlag. Ronen, Shoshana. (2002). Nietzsche and Wittgenstein. In Search of Secular Salvation. Warsaw: Academic Publishing House Dialog. Rothhaupt, Josef G.F. (1995). “Ludwig Wittgenstein und Paul Ernst– “Mißverstehen der Sprachlogik”,” Wittgenstein Studies, 2. www.phil.uni-passau.de/dlwg/ ws04/23-2-95.txt Scheier, Claus-Artur. (1991). Wittgensteins Kristall. Ein Satzkommentar zur Logisch-philosophischen Abhandlung. Freiburg/München: Alber Karl. Schneider, Hans Julius. (1992). Phantasie und Kalkül. Über die Polarität von Handlung und Struktur in der Sprache. Frankfurt/Main: Suhrkamp. Steuer, Daniel. (1995). “Mit der Stimme im Rücken: Nietzsche, Wittgenstein und die Sprache,” In German Life and Letters, 48. Wallace, Kyle. (1973). “Nietzsche’s and Wittgenstein’s Perspectivism,” In Southwestern Journal of Philosophy, 4. Williams, Meredith. (1988). “Transcendence and Return: The Overcoming of Philosophy in Nietzsche and Wittgenstein,” In International Philosophical Quarterly, 28.

4 Transvaluation and Rectification Wittgenstein reads Nietzsche and Lichtenberg on Values, Poetry, and Language Marco Brusotti “If my name lives on then only as the Terminus ad quem of great occidental philosophy. Somewhat like the name of the one who burnt down the library of Alexandria.”1 Akin to Nietzsche, who sees in his thought the reversal and overcoming of metaphysics, Wittgenstein refers to himself here as the epilogue of Western philosophy, as its annihilator. In the Nachlass of the 1930s, he makes Nietzsche’s “transvaluation of all values” into a formula first for the whole epoch and then for his own new “movement of thought”. Whereas my first headword obviously stems from Nietzsche,2 “rectification” [Berichtigung] comes from Georg Christoph Lichtenberg, to whose conception of philosophy as “rectification of language use” Wittgenstein occasionally subscribes. Hence, the subtitle of my essay could be phrased as follows: Wittgenstein reads Nietzsche on values as well as on poetry and Lichtenberg on the rectification of language. For it is in Lichtenberg, rather than in Nietzsche, that Wittgenstein met a critical view of language in which he at least partly recognised his own approach. Of course, he could also have found a strenuous philosophical critique of language in Nietzsche, whose texts contain many thoughts going in a direction comparable to Lichtenberg’s. However, it was mainly other aspects of Nietzsche’s philosophy that attracted Wittgenstein’s attention.3 But even if he largely overlooks Nietzsche as a philosopher of language, linguistic issues do also play a role. Besides appreciating Nietzsche’s rare mastery of style, Wittgenstein surprisingly self-identifies with him as a poet-philosopher. This selfidentification involves a peculiar conception of his own philosophy in which he sees a form not only of poetry but also of transvaluation (cf. §§ 1–5). The second part of my chapter (§§ 6–8) goes into Nietzsche’s and Wittgenstein’s assessment of the proposal to switch from “I think” to “it thinks” – perhaps the best-known example of the way Lichtenberg conceives of philosophy as “rectification of language use”. With what looks DOI: 10.4324/9781003219071-6

96  Marco Brusotti like Lichtenberg’s alternative to Kant’s pure apperception, neither Nietzsche nor Wittgenstein was really satisfied, but for distinct reasons and with different conclusions. 1 Wittgenstein, Spengler, and Nietzsche’s “transvaluation of all values” The almost Nietzschean tone of the remark in which Wittgenstein singles out himself as the terminus ad quem of Western philosophy is not unrelated to the book that helped to shape his Weltanschauung in the early 1930s – and with it his view of Nietzsche. The first volume of The Decline of the West had appeared in 1918. Wittgenstein discussed Spengler with his friend Ludwig Hänsel as early as 19214 and began to take a serious look at the book by 1925 at the latest.5 In 1931 he lists Spengler among the authors who “influenced”6 him, even if he soon distances himself from his sweeping generalisations.7 By 1930, Spengler seems to have convinced him of Nietzsche’s historical significance. Our age is really an age of the transvaluation of all values. (The procession of humankind turns a corner & what used to be the way up is now the way down etc.) Did Nietzsche have in mind what is now happening & does this achievement consist in anticipating it & finding a word for it?8 Here Wittgenstein adopts the following judgement from The Decline of the West almost verbatim, if only in part. When Nietzsche wrote down the word ‘transvaluation of all values’ for the first time, the spiritual movement of the centuries in which we are living found at last its formula. Transvaluation of all values is the most fundamental character of every civilisation. For it is the beginning of a civilisation that it remoulds all the forms of the culture that went before, understands them otherwise, practises them in a different way. It begets no more, but only reinterprets, and herein lies the negativeness common to all periods of this character. […]9 According to Spengler, Nietzsche “found” the “formula” for the current epoch with the “word ‘transvaluation of all values’” (my emphasis). In Wittgenstein’s remark, Spengler’s claim becomes a question, namely, whether it was Nietzsche’s accomplishment to “have found a word” (my emphasis) for our times. Here this question is left open, but other remarks point to an affirmative answer. In The Decline of the West, the transvaluation of all values is not only the formula for Spengler’s epoch; the phrase stands for the transition [1] of

Transvaluation and Rectification  97 every culture [2] to its phase of decay: all cultures decline, not only the West, and cannot but end in a Zivilisation, the protracted final stage that is no longer creative, but merely reinterprets the cultural forms already created. So, by “transvaluation”, Spengler does not mean the replacement of one culture by another but rather a process within a culture when it slowly declines after its flourishing. Wittgenstein, too, understands transvaluation as an historical phase that every culture goes through; often, but not always, he also adheres to Spengler’s negative interpretation of transvaluation as the transition of a culture to its final stage of deterioration. Wittgenstein interprets transvaluation in accordance with his own ethics, which is very far removed from Nietzsche’s point of view. The Lecture on Ethics (1929) distinguishes between the relative and the absolute use of ethical expressions. The former is not actually an ethical use since relative value judgements are ultimately only statements of fact (Wittgenstein’s examples: a good tennis player, the right way to Grantchester). Absolute use, in turn, is genuinely ethical; however, absolute value judgements have no descriptive content and are therefore actually meaningless, even though this urge “to run against the boundaries of language” is a “tendency” that Wittgenstein “cannot help respecting deeply”.10 Soon after the Lecture, however, he gives up the idea of language boundaries. The reflections influenced by Spengler no longer claim that “nonsensicality” is the “very essence”11 of absolute value judgements. In 1930, a new emphasis falls on historical mutability. The difference between relative and absolute value judgements is reinterpreted as a difference between the practical and the symbolic value of actions.12 Both are historically changeable, and they are mutually independent. In the transition to a new age, the mutability even of the symbolic value comes to light. For transvaluation means that new actions come to be viewed as valuable in themselves and acquire a symbolic character they did not have before, whereas the ways of acting that were previously symbolic lose the value that hitherto seemed to be inherent in them. In the transition to a new epoch, it turns out to be a deception “that the greatness, significance lies necessarily in that way of acting”.13 “And this belief is always reduced to absurdity just when a transvaluation of values comes about through an upheaval, that is, when true pathos now settles upon another way of acting.”14 This sudden shift in value is a displacement of the “true pathos”, which somehow always remains the same, even though it now changes its object. So Wittgenstein in 1930. For Nietzsche, however, the issue is not simply that new values emerge; he is more fundamentally concerned with a redefinition and transformation of the concept of value itself, with a ‘reversal’ of the metaphysical status of values. In contrast to Wittgenstein, who, not unlike Spengler, merely registers the historical turning point in which the “true pathos” changes its

98  Marco Brusotti object, Nietzsche does not see himself as a mere spectator. Granted, the stereotype of the prophet, a commonplace that Wittgenstein takes up from Spengler, is not entirely without connection to Nietzsche’s self-image: he repeatedly claims the role of the ‘seer’ who foretells, say, the nihilism of the next two centuries. Nevertheless, transvaluation is, above all, a deed, a feat that Nietzsche endeavours to accomplish himself as an outstanding personality that overturns traditional values and creates new ones. In contrast, Spengler understands transvaluation as a fateful epochal turn whose actual subjects are not single human beings but supra-individual ‘organisms’, the cultures, epochs lasting about a thousand years. And whereas Nietzsche’s “transvaluation of all values” is also a new beginning, Spenglerian transvaluation stands rather for decline; it is the hallmark of civilization, the long period of deterioration, after a culture has passed its zenith and before a still completely unforeseeable new culture replaces this now-aged and sterile organism. The great deeds that once brought this culture to adequate symbolic expression belong to a bygone time that has now inexorably faded away. Western culture reached its peak in Goethe’s and Beethoven’s works, several decades before Nietzsche foretold and proclaimed its downfall. So Spengler. Wittgenstein subscribes to his view that Western culture, which began in the tenth century AD, reached its peak with Beethoven’s chamber music. There are problems I never tackle, which do not lie in my path or belong to my world. Problems of the intellectual world of the West which Beethoven (& perhaps Goethe to a certain extent) tackled & wrestled with but which no philosopher has ever confronted (perhaps Nietzsche passed close to them) / And perhaps they are lost to western philosophy […]15 Here only Beethoven seems to have undoubtedly “tackled” the fundamental “problems of the intellectual world of the West”. As to Goethe and Nietzsche, whose medium is language, Wittgenstein hesitates: “perhaps” Goethe, too, “tackled” those problems, even if at most “to a certain extent”. Nietzsche, of the three the only philosopher, is unique insofar he might have succeeded in glimpsing the basic issues that “no philosopher” has “ever confronted”, Wittgenstein included. However, even Nietzsche did not really confront those problems, but merely “passed close to” them. If at all, he rather hinted at these issues than formulated, let alone solved them. Wittgenstein does not think he can do more himself. On the contrary: he, who at that time does not count himself among the Western thinkers, does not approach these “problems of the intellectual world of the West” at all. Firstly, because he does not feel at home in that world; but also

Transvaluation and Rectification  99 because he, who is influenced by the Decline, considers those problems now probably “lost to western philosophy”. Goethe and Nietzsche feature prominently at the end of Spengler’s preface: And now, finally, I feel urged to name once more those to whom I owe practically everything: Goethe and Nietzsche. Goethe gave me the method, Nietzsche the question (Fragestellung), and if I were asked to find a formula for my relation to the latter, I should say that I have made of his ‘outlook’ (Ausblick) an ‘overlook’ (Überblick).16 Wittgenstein probably would agree that Nietzsche did not go beyond sketching a future outlook, but he shows no sign of endorsing Spengler’s claim to have provided an encompassing overview. Wittgenstein’s implicit objection has itself a Spenglerian touch: decay is now too advanced, and those who experience the end of a culture cannot adequately “describe”17 it. Only in earlier times would it have been possible to achieve this – through foresight; anticipating is the only halfway adequate way of describing; “perhaps Beethoven did it with prevision (as Spengler hints in one place)”.18 But what his music could accomplish “in advance”19 at the zenith of Western culture, is now out of reach. Nietzsche may still have been able to provide an outlook. A few decades later, however, the waning culture can no longer be surveyed for it no longer develops organically; the historical process “is no longer an epic”, which is why Spengler’s and Wittgenstein’s epigonal generation cannot “describe” it “as an epic”.20 Going beyond Nietzsche and providing a comprehensive overview, as Spengler claims to do, seems no longer possible. 2 Wittgenstein’s new movement of thought as transvaluation Thus, in the Nachlass of the early 1930s, the word “transvaluation” [Umwertung] stands for the current “upheaval” [Umschwung] of Western culture and is associated more with Nietzsche’s far-sighted description of this epochal turning point than with a future achievement by Wittgenstein himself. By contrast, in a later remark (1938), in which he emphatically claims to be following Nietzsche, the transvaluation is to be accomplished by Wittgenstein’s own new “movement of thought”. If I want to teach not a more correct thinking, but a [different∣new] movement of thought, my purpose is a ‘transvaluation of values’ and I come to Nietzsche, as well as by the fact that, in my view, the philosopher should be a poet.21

100  Marco Brusotti Here Nietzsche is referred to in two respects: 1) Wittgenstein’s own philosophy aims at a transvaluation – not, however, of all values, but, more modestly, ‘of values’ (and he places the whole phrase in inverted commas); the “transvaluation” that his philosophy strives for consists in a new “movement of thought”; 2) in a sense to be further specified, the philosopher who teaches this new ‘movement of thought’ is a poet – or should be one; for Wittgenstein avows to be “someone who cannot quite do what he would like to be able to do”.22 1) The concept of transvaluation, Wittgenstein suggests here, implies that the new values, though different from (and, for Nietzsche, indeed opposed to) the old, are not objectively more valid than these; and of his own new movement of thought, Wittgenstein argues only that it is different from but not “more correct” than the old. He evidently sees a connection, to which we will return in § 4, between this status of his own movement of thought and the identification of the philosopher with the poet. 2) Like the prophet, the poet-philosopher is also a cliché, a then rather commonplace way of viewing Nietzsche. What is surprising, however, is that Wittgenstein has no reservations about committing to this understanding of philosophy as poetry. Even without referring to Nietzsche, he thus expresses his own attitude to philosophy: “Philosophie dürfte man eigentlich nur dichten.”23 The two current English translations are: “Philosophy ought really to be written only as a poetic composition.”24 Or “Really one should write philosophy only as one writes a poem.”25 Without attempting an alternative translation, I would merely point out that the German verb “dichten” does not exclusively mean or even necessarily involve “writing poetry”. The claim that one should actually only “dichten” philosophy means more broadly that one should indeed do (write, create, compose) philosophy as one does (writes, creates, composes) poetry. Here the whole remark: I believe I summed up where I stand in relation to philosophy when I said: really one should write philosophy only as one writes a poem. That, it seems to me, must reveal how far my thinking belongs to the present, the future, or the past. For I was acknowledging myself, with these words, to be someone who cannot quite do what he would like to be able to do.26 Does Wittgenstein intend the claim that “the philosopher should be a poet” (MS 120, 145r; 23.4.1938) in the sense that philosophy is something one should only practise poetically [“dichten” (MS 146, 25v)]? He holds both views but associates only the first one with

Transvaluation and Rectification  101 Nietzsche as well. The two claims do not necessarily coincide: the one he connects with Nietzsche could merely mean that, among other things, the philosopher should also be a poet. If so, the claim that philosophy should exclusively be practised poetically goes much further, even if Wittgenstein’s avowal that we should “really” [“eigentlich”] do so sounds somewhat half-hearted, also because he promptly admits that he can’t quite stick to it. When he associates his own view that “the philosopher should be a poet” with the name of Nietzsche, he could merely be meaning that this philosopher was indeed a poet (that Nietzsche fulfilled the requirement of being a poet, say, by writing Thus Spoke Zarathustra). Or does Wittgenstein also imply that Nietzsche, like him, claims that the philosopher should be a poet? Wittgenstein does not overtly state this, and still less does he explicitly ascribe to Nietzsche his own claim that philosophers should only “dichten” their philosophy. Would such ascription be right? The idea that the philosopher should also be a poet is obviously not alien to “the poet of Zarathustra”, as Nietzsche calls himself.27 However, Wittgenstein’s view that philosophy is something that one should exclusively do as poetry (dichten) is more radical, and it is doubtful that Nietzsche held something like this. Rather, Wittgenstein’s view has a certain Spenglerian touch. The way he resorts to the concept of poetry to set philosophy apart from the sciences rather echoes the sharp demarcation between history and the sciences in The Decline of the West: “Nature is to be handled scientifically, History poetically.”28 In science “the notions of truth and falsity have validity”; history, however, “belongs to the domain of significances, in which the crucial words are not ‘correct’ and ‘erroneous’, but ‘deep’ and ‘shallow.’”29 Nature is a matter of causality; history is a matter of fate, and about the latter one should only express oneself poetically. Still, Spengler considers the Decline a philosophical book; and Wittgenstein’s claim that doing philosophy should be doing poetry seems to apply Spengler’s conception of historiography to philosophy. Nietzsche, in turn, is not interested in claiming a great divide between natural sciences and historical studies. But what about philosophy? Does he hold that philosophy can be practised only as poetry? That philosophizing is only poetry-making? Given that his position is incomparably more complex than Spengler’s, it is not possible here to give an exhaustive overview. Even if Wittgenstein only addresses the link with poetry, Nietzsche also frames the issue in terms of art in general, not only when he conjures up his artist-philosophers. As usual with him, he experiments with different figures of thought and plays with opposite images. With intentions that are different from time to time but not necessarily contradictory, his texts sometimes equate and sometimes oppose cognition and poetry (or art).

102  Marco Brusotti On the one hand, he ascribes a creative nature to cognition and conceives of knowledge as an artistic, poetic activity. Now, if cognition in general and even perception has such an ‘artistic’ or ‘poetic’ character, then this must also hold for philosophy – but without being sufficient by itself to demarcate philosophy from science. On the other hand, Nietzsche often builds up a tension between cognition and poetry (or art in general). They appear again and again as opposite poles. However, this means often that they must be brought together in a higher unity. The Emersonian motto of The Gay Science (first edition) proclaims the synthesis of wisdom and poetry: “To the poet and sage, all things are friendly and hallowed, all experiences profitable, all days holy, all men divine.”30 Nietzsche refers to “the Provençal notion of ‘gaya scienza’, that unity of singer, knight, and free-thinker which distinguishes the marvellous early culture of the Provençal people from all ambiguous cultures”.31 The medieval troubadours who acted like aristocrats (knights) were poets (singers) and thinkers (free spirits). Nietzsche’s philosopher should do as they did: “science” – freedom of spirit and wisdom – is only joyful when it is also poetry, or at least when poetry goes with it. Thus, poetry also becomes a cipher for the shaping of one’s own life. This is “What one should learn from artists”32: “[…] we, however, want to be poets of our lives, starting with the smallest and most commonplace details”.33 Since The Birth of Tragedy, Nietzsche claims, his philosophical “task” has been “to look at science through the prism of the artist, but also to look at art through the prism of life.”34 The primacy of philosophy lies in the fact that it can assess, evaluate science from the point of view of art – as well as both science and art from the point of view of life. In this sense, the point of view of philosophy, while not coinciding with that of art, seems more akin to it than to the point of view of science. Thus, compared to science, philosophy has a clear specificity. Nietzsche urges his contemporaries to “stop mistaking philosophical laborers and scientific men in general for philosophers”.35 However, even if scholars are no philosophers, philosophers must have been scholars – and even “poets”. For the true philosopher, though, having been a scholar (or a poet) is only one of the many “preconditions for his task: the task itself has another will, – it calls for him to create values”.36 Creating new values is a task reserved for “the genuine philosopher”37 and alien to scientists and scholars. Transvaluation is a kind of artistic creation; and insofar philosophers create new values, they are artists. Since creating values is like creating new laws, philosophers are “legislators”: “But true philosophers are commanders and legislators.”38 “Their ‘knowing’ is creating, their creating is a legislating, their will to truth is – will to power.”39

Transvaluation and Rectification  103 Is Wittgenstein therefore right if he intends to suggest that Nietzsche – like him – does not conflate philosophy and science? There are substantial differences between the two thinkers even if Nietzsche, too, ascribes a specific aim to philosophy. For, while emphasising this distinctiveness, he considers science to belong to the (many) preconditions of philosophy. “Precondition” here is to be taken more in the sense of a required capability (skill) than of a logical presupposition. But even so, it goes without saying that Nietzsche, according to whom there is no such thing as purely factual knowledge, is far from implying a value–fact divide (as in the Tractatus) when he distinguishes value creation and scientific enquiry. Nor does this distinction coincide with the way the intermediate Wittgenstein delimits philosophy by demarcating conceptual from empirical issues. 3 Philosophers who want to be learned by heart. Nietzsche’s and Wittgenstein’s “poems” In his autograph remarks, Wittgenstein does not dwell on explaining why or in which sense “the philosopher should be a poet”40 or philosophy should only be practised poetically.41 In a conversation reported by Rush Rhees, however, he gives a few more hints. He draws on Nietzsche to emphasise the difference between philosophy and science and points out what the – or, at least, one – relevant commonality between philosophy and poetry consists of, an analogy which in his eyes is indeed also one between himself and Nietzsche. I remember one time when Wittgenstein was mentioning Nietzsche’s remark: ‘Wir wollen auswendig gelernt werden’ (‘We – i.e. philosophers – want to be learned by heart’). Wittgenstein was emphasizing the difference between a book on philosophy and a theoretical or scientific work. He was completing the Part I of the Investigations. In connection with this ‘We want to be learned by heart’, he said that he could understand why certain ancient philosophers had tried to write what they had to say as poems. (Once or twice later he referred to his manuscript of the Investigations as ‘my poems’.) […]42 So Nietzsche, too, who considered the pre-Socratics exemplary philosophical existences, belongs to the “philosophers” that “had tried to write what they had to say as poems” (ibid.). When addressing him as a poet, the reference to Thus Spoke Zarathustra is obvious, even if Wittgenstein’s manuscript remark on transvaluation and poetry does not mention this poem. In the conversation, Wittgenstein quotes from the speech On Reading and Writing: “Whoever writes in blood and sayings [Sprüchen] does not want to be read, but to be learned by heart.”43 According to

104  Marco Brusotti Zarathustra, what is to be learned by heart are literary short forms – sayings [Sprüche] or maxims [Sentenzen] – rather than poetry in general as with Wittgenstein.44 Zarathustra counts himself to those who write with their “blood”, i.e., stand behind their sayings with their whole self. “Of all that is written I love only that which one writes with his blood. Write with blood, and you will experience that blood is spirit.”45 Does Zarathustra, who elsewhere calls himself a poet,46 thereby intend to set himself apart from the scientists? Wittgenstein seems to suggest this. Zarathustra, however, does not state explicitly from whom he wants to distinguish himself. The vast group could include not only scholars and scientists, but, say, journalists, academic philosophers and even classics such as Kant. The reader may guess. Neither does the speech On Reading and Writing intend to specify a feature that set philosophical works apart from scientific treatises. Only with Wittgenstein does conciseness and memorability become a criterion for distinguishing between philosophy and science. According to him, those who “want to be learned by heart” are the philosophers in contrast to the scientists. Wittgenstein reads this contrast into Zarathustra’s speech. At least, he emphasises it very strongly. It is his peculiar use of the saying. A further, more general point should be emphasised: even the late ­Nietzsche, who indeed sees in Thus Spoke Zarathustra the apex of his ­entire philosophical production, does not regard himself exclusively as the author of this poem; he never declares that he wants to stand exclusively as the author of sayings and maxims such as those that make up ­Zarathustra’s speeches. Besides, Wittgenstein is aware that not all philosophers want or are able to write in such a way that their exact words remain engraved in their readers’ mind. In a conversation with Theodor Redpath, he contrasts Nietzsche with Russell: Russell he [Wittgenstein; MB] considered to have high philosophical talent but little quality as a writer. He said that he could not remember a single sentence that Russell ever wrote. When I asked him what philosopher he thought did write impressively his immediate reply was “Nietzsche”.47 That Russell does not belong to the philosophers that are apt to be “learned by heart” [“auswendig gelernt werden”] distinguishes him not only from the poet of Zarathustra, but also from Wittgenstein himself. For the Tractatus is teeming with pithy statements that most philosophers know by heart. But it is the Philosophical Investigations that Wittgenstein playfully called his “poems”. Despite this half-joke, however, he seems to doubt that he himself should try to write what he has to say as a poem. For he

Transvaluation and Rectification  105 acknowledges “to be someone who cannot quite do what he would like to be able to do”.48 Rhees’ account of the aforementioned conversation with him continues as follows: […] In connection with this ‘We want to be learned by heart’, he said that he could understand why certain ancient philosophers had tried to write what they had to say as poems. (Once or twice later he referred to his manuscript of the Investigations as ‘my poems’.) I made some silly bantering remark such as: ‘Well, why don’t you do that?’. ‘Yes’, said Wittgenstein. ‘Now let’s imagine what that would be like. Suppose I wrote it all in a poem. And then people would write about this, in Mind….!’49 The fact that these conversations were published precisely in Mind could perhaps be seen as a late revenge for Wittgenstein’s insinuation that this prestigious journal was conceivably unsuitable as an organ of literary criticism. He does not complain that too few articles on Thus Spoke Zarathustra appear in Mind, nor does he mean that the Philosophical Investigations are his own Zarathustra, all the less does he want to use verse meter and staff rhyme. Rather, he employs the analogy between philosophy and poetry to mark the difference between philosophy and science and thereby – not unlike the claim to revaluate values by teaching a new “movement of thought” – to define his relationship to his times. From the view that philosophising is making poetry, it should “emerge how far [his] thinking belongs to the present, the future, or the past”.50 Wittgenstein does not see his philosophy as really belonging to the present; in some respect, it may recall a bygone past, reaching back not only to the author of Thus Spoke Zarathustra, but even to the Pre-Socratics, when poetic expression was not yet alien to philosophy. And as to the future, who can ever know? Here Wittgenstein leaves the issue open. However, his new “movement of thought”, even if it is “not a more correct thinking”,51 is supposed to transform the philosophical way of looking at things. Indeed, ‘transvaluation’ is neither his only nor even his main model. He also compares the envisaged philosophical ‘change of aspect’ with Kant’s Copernican and with Einstein’s relativistic turn.52 Wittgenstein, who also strives for a ‘revolution of the way of thinking’, refers to the “Kantian solution of the problem of philosophy”53 as well as to a “kind of relativity theory of language”.54 Especially the reference to Einstein’s scientific theory can generate misunderstandings; but even the affinity to Kant can easily be pushed too far – and of course also the analogy with the transvaluation of all values. At any rate, Wittgenstein feels a kinship not exclusively, and not above all, with Nietzsche.

106  Marco Brusotti 4 The Autonomy of Grammar The new movement of thought leads Wittgenstein to the idea of the autonomy or arbitrariness of grammar. Grammar is autonomous insofar as it does not depend on reality (i.e. does not have to be isomorphic with it) and arbitrary insofar as it is not accountable to it (i.e. does not need a foundation or justification).55 Wittgenstein intends his new movement of thought to leave behind the outlook of the Tractatus. The autonomy or arbitrariness of grammar involves that it does not make sense to think of language as logically isomorphic with reality.56 But is Wittgenstein’s early book really entangled in isomorphism? The “received view”, that has been object of heated controversies in the last decades, is that the reader of the Tractatus should come to see that this language–world relation shows itself even if it cannot be meaningfully asserted. There is some merit to this “received view”. In any case, the question whether logical isomorphism in whatever form can be attributed to the Tractatus is irrelevant here. What matters is that, from the early 1930s onwards, Wittgenstein himself, who now openly rejects the idea of a correspondence between language and the world, sees no reason to absolve his Tractatus from isomorphism. It is just because he believes that he is only now on the way to overcoming this previous point of view that he considers his current movement of thought to be new even for himself. Wittgenstein dismisses logical isomorphism not as false, but as utterly senseless. Together with it, thus, the opposite option also drops out. The puzzle whether ‘grammar’ corresponds to reality is not to be answered in the negative but to be exposed as a false question. Like all philosophical problems, it turns out to be nothing but a misunderstanding. Philosophy is never concerned with the truth or falsity of propositions, but only with their meaning, which must be clarified to remove misunderstandings. Scientists deliver causal explanations, philosophers clarifications of meaning. These clarifications have no empirical criteria in the strict sense. They are valid only if the interlocutor allows them to be valid. The philosopher recalls the actual use of language; but it is up to the interlocutor whether to accept the clarification. One is not compelled to admit that her philosophical confusion arises from a false analogy or a misleading simile (in philosophy), Neither is one compelled to accept a certain reading of a work of art (in aesthetics) or to adopt the psychoanalyst’s interpretation of a dream or a joke. Wittgenstein calls recognition by the interlocutor an aesthetic criterion – the last two examples show why – and he considers his philosophical arguments closer to aesthetic than to scientific ones. It is not the philosopher’s task to replace the actual grammar; but even then it is up to the perplexed to keep the old grammar or adopt a new one,

Transvaluation and Rectification  107 and this precisely because grammar is autonomous. In any case, the philosopher may perhaps be able to propose a more perspicuous grammar, but not a more correct one; since a grammar that were correct in and of itself – or even just a grammar that were more correct than another – would not be autonomous. Wittgenstein assumes that grammar is autonomous when he calls his own philosophy – like Nietzsche’s – poetry. Being interested only in the sense (rather than the truth) of propositions, his philosophy keeps within the sphere of autonomous grammar, and for this very reason the philosopher – Wittgenstein himself – is a poet, and his new “movement of thought” cannot claim to be “a more correct thinking”57 – let alone the ultimately correct one. This is the very special sense that the analogy between philosophy and poetry takes on with Wittgenstein. Is claiming a “more correct thinking” alien also to Nietzsche’s intentions? Wittgenstein intends to suggest that Nietzsche’s concept of transvaluation implies that the new values are not objectively more valid than the old. Similarly, Wittgenstein himself only claims that his new movement of thought is different from the old but not that it is “more correct”. What to make of this analogy? No doubt Nietzsche rejects the idea of ultimately correct thought and of an objective truth independent of human perspective. The question, though, is whether he shares the autonomy of grammar. Nietzsche clearly denies logical isomorphism and claims that logic and language falsify reality. For Wittgenstein, however, isomorphism is not false, but nonsensical. Therefore, the opposite option turns out to be equally senseless. Does Nietzsche cling just to this latter option (logic falsifies reality)? To the extent that he does, one cannot ascribe to him the autonomy of grammar in Wittgenstein’s sense. Thus, the content Wittgenstein gives to both formulas he associates with Nietzsche, transvaluation and poet-philosopher, seems only loosely related to the latter’s views. 5 Great sayings: Poetry and truth There is a further unmistakable sign of distance. Wittgenstein declines to take a stand on the core concern of Nietzsche’s transvaluation of all values: the overcoming of Christian morality. It would seem that this central issue belongs to the general cultural problems that Wittgenstein – as he understands himself – “never tackle[s]”.58 In a conversation with Rhees, he admits to thinking that Christian morality is ‘deeper’ than Nietzsche’s critique.59 But it does not cross his mind to try to decide the conflict between these two moralities. In any case, he argues, it is not a matter of whether one position is “more free from objections” than the other; it is not a dispute that could be settled with arguments – a point that Wittgenstein emphasises rather than Nietzsche.

108  Marco Brusotti When I was speaking to Wittgenstein about conflicting moralities, and the question whether one could try to find some way of settling the issue between them, I mentioned Christian morality (as understood by ­Nietzsche), and Nietzsche’s criticism or opposition to it. Wittgenstein said something like, ‘Well, if you want to try to find a way of deciding between such a conflict, – go ahead and good luck to you. It is nothing I could do or dream of doing. I might say that one of these moralities was deeper than the other.’ But (and I think this was his point) this is not like trying to see whether the one is ‘more free from objections’ than the other.60 Wittgenstein comes to the same conclusion in another conversation.61 He first explains “the use of metaphors”, placing particular emphasis on “the point that there is not always a sharp line dividing what is metaphor from what is not”. Then he goes on to discuss three ‘great sayings’. The first and the last are by Goethe and Lichtenberg, respectively; the second, that is merely touched on, comes from Thus Spoke Zarathustra. How often would you say that, or ask whether a great saying were true or false? […] I [Rhees; MB] asked: ‘Do you think that is true?’ He [Wittgenstein; MB] laughed and said, ‘Why in so far as it has any sense to say that a great saying is true, I suppose I would say it is true.’ Or again with: Weh spricht: Vergeh.’ […] Remarks which you might call illuminating; from which you can learn; or which crystallise something which you had only half realized, etc.. You would not say that the question of whether you can learn from them depends on their being true. […]62 Did Wittgenstein really refer only to the single verse reproduced here? Does the great saying really consist only of the three words “Weh spricht: Vergeh”? More likely, he did rather mean the whole conclusion of “Zarathustra’s roundelay [Rundgesang]”: “Pain says: vergeh! / Yet all joy wants eternity – / – Wants deep, wants deep eternity.”63 Rhees/Wittgenstein himself does not translate the saying into English; and the translators of Thus Spoke Zarathustra evidently have difficulty with the verb “vergehen”.64 When pain says “vergeh!”, it speaks (1) to itself and (2) to the sufferer. (1) Pain tells itself to wear off, to fade away, to pass away. As Zarathustra explains: “Pain says: ‘Go! Away, you pain!’” [“Weh spricht: vergeh! Weg, du Wehe!’”].65 (2) But pain also tells the sufferer to ‘vergehen’. A person “vergeht vor Schmerzen” when pain makes her think/feel she will “pass out” or even “pass away”; however, Zarathustra rather means that pain pushes human beings to transform and overcome themselves and/or even to pass away (“What became perfect, everything ripe – wants to die!”). Hence, the contrast between the sufferer and the joyful, i.e., the contrast

Transvaluation and Rectification  109 between pain, that wants (the present) to pass, and joy, that wants (the present) to stay or to return, can be phrased as follows: “Pain says: […] I do not want myself”, whereas “joy wants itself, wants eternity, wants recurrence, wants everything eternally the same”.66 Thus, “Zarathustra’s roundelay”67 is “the song whose name is ‘Once More’ and whose meaning is ‘into all eternity’”,68 and the issue especially of the last three verses is life affirmation as saying yes to Eternal Recurrence. Does what Wittgenstein tells the reader about “great sayings” apply for Eternal Recurrence itself? His point here is that one should not ask if illuminating remarks such as those by Goethe, Nietzsche and Lichtenberg are ‘true’ or ‘false’. Just as it often makes no sense to draw a sharp dividing line between the metaphorical and the non-metaphorical, so one must not simply assume that the question of whether such ‘great sayings’ are ‘true’ can be meaningfully posed. Does Wittgenstein intend to suggest that this also holds for Eternal Recurrence? That the question if Zarathustra’s “thought of thoughts” is true cannot be meaningfully asked? Rhees’ report is too concise to allow such a speculative inference about Wittgenstein’s intention. In any case, it is likely that the philosopher who quotes this ‘great saying’ was familiar with the existential aspect of Eternal Recurrence.69 If the strict distinction between ‘true’ and ‘false’ does not apply to the language-games with such sayings, then the question whether poets tell the truth does not coincide with the question whether one can learn something from them. Wittgenstein reproaches his contemporaries for expecting instruction only from science and complains that it “never occurs to them” that poets (and musicians) “have something to teach them”.70 Poets do have something to “teach” us, although what they write need not be “true” (not in the same sense as a report or a scientific treatise). Relevant here is less the difference between ‘teaching’ and ‘true’ than that between the whole language-games in which these words are respectively used. A related distinction can be drawn involving Wittgenstein’s philosophy. Granted, even if he calls the Philosophical Investigations his “poems”, it is doubtful that he considers them to consist of ‘great sayings’ like the one he finds in Thus Spoke Zarathustra. Nevertheless, and even though philosophy and poetry are very far apart, there is a certain parallelism: as one can “learn” from great sayings even if they are not “true”, so can one learn from Wittgenstein’s new movement of thought even if it does not claim to be a “more correct thinking” and to discover new truths. 6 “Our entire philosophy is correction of the use of language”. Wittgenstein, Nietzsche, and Lichtenberg It has been frequently pointed out that Nietzsche and Wittgenstein are strikingly akin in their preference for philosophical short forms, apt to be

110  Marco Brusotti read slowly or even ‘learned by heart’. Such short forms are the propositions of the Tractatus and the remarks in the Philosophical investigations as well as Nietzsche’s aphorisms and the sayings in Zarathustra’s speeches. Rather than to a direct influence of Nietzsche on Wittgenstein, this affinity between them can be traced back to a shared philosophical and literary tradition. Lichtenberg (1742–1799), who introduced the aphoristic form in the German-speaking world, is undoubtedly a reference author even if obviously not the only source (in Nietzsche’s case, think among others of the French moralists). In particular, his Sudelbücher [Waste books] were important for both philosophers, and Lichtenberg’s example may show why it is so difficult to determine Nietzsche’s specific ‘influence’ on ­Wittgenstein. Many thoughts on language that we associate with Nietzsche were familiar to Wittgenstein through Lichtenberg and more in general through the German-language tradition from Hamann and Herder to ­Wilhelm von Humboldt. In The Big Typescript, Wittgenstein subscribes to Lichtenberg’s ‘definition’ of philosophy: “Lichtenberg: ‘Our entire philosophy is correction of the use of language, and therefore the correction of a philosophy, and indeed of the most general philosophy.’”71 This dictum from the Waste books is known to today’s philosophers mainly, even if not only, because The Big Typescript refers to it. Nietzsche, who never comments on this dictum, underlined the words “Berichtigung des Sprachgebrauchs” [“rectification of linguistic usage”] in his hand copy of the Vermischte Schriften.72 Already the young philologist holds Lichtenberg in high esteem as a critic of style. Even later, however, Nietzsche only occasionally takes him into consideration as a philosopher of language.73 But there is at least one relevant exception. Like Wittgenstein, Nietzsche, too, refers to the well-known criticism of the Kantian ‘I think’, albeit without mentioning Lichtenberg by name. The proposal to switch from “I think” to “it thinks” in aphorism K [76] of the Waste books can be taken as an example of the “rectification of the use of language” envisaged in aphorism H [146]. So, before dealing with the switch to “it thinks”, we should dwell a little more on H [146] that defines philosophy as a rectification of language use. This text is also about the subject as well as about its grammatical roots. I and me. I know myself – are two objects.74 Our false philosophy is incorporated in our entire language; we can, so to speak, not reason without reasoning falsely. We fail to consider that speaking, regardless of what, is a philosophy. Everyone who speaks German is a folk philosopher, and our university philosophy consists in restrictions of that philosophy. Our whole philosophy is rectification of linguistic usage, thus rectification of a philosophy, and indeed of the most universal and

Transvaluation and Rectification  111 general. But the common philosophy has the advantage of being in possession of the declensions and conjugations. So true philosophy is always taught by us with the language of the false one. Explaining words helps nothing, for by explaining words I do not yet change the pronouns and their declensions.75 For Lichtenberg’s “university philosophy”, it is not an easy task to “restrict” “folk philosophy” and rectify its use of language. The deep grammatical layers that this everyday use involves, such as the declension of the pronouns ‘I’ and ‘me’, cannot in fact be simply switched off or replaced. In the Big Typescript, Wittgenstein sees the difficulty. After quoting Lichtenberg’s sentence on the correction of linguistic usage, he comments on the first part of the same aphorism H[146]: “Why are grammatical problems so tough and seemingly ineradicable? – Because they are connected with the oldest thought habits, i.e., with the oldest images that are engraved in our language itself. ((Lichtenberg.))”76 Despite Wittgenstein’s question, it is rather Lichtenberg who wonders whether he is playing a losing game. Notwithstanding, Lichtenberg’s criticism of the ‘I think’ shows how the “rectification of the use of language” aims to be the “rectification of a philosophy”, though rather of Descartes’ cogito and Kant’s Ich denke than directly “of the most universal and general” philosophy.77 We should say it thinks, just as we say it lightens. To say cogito is already to say too much as soon as we translate it I think. To assume, to postulate the I is a practical requirement.78 What Lichtenberg finds objectionable is indeed already the first person singular (cogito) but above all the pronoun ‘I’ (in ‘I think’). With the formula ‘it thinks’, he probably takes up a suggestion in the Critique of Pure Reason; for Kant himself is concerned with “this I or he or it (the thing) which thinks”.79 Hence Lichtenberg may have considered his aphorism as a further development – and not only as a criticism – of Kant’s conception. The argument that one should say “it thinks” rather than “I think” certainly goes beyond a witty comment let alone a mere joke. However, it remains quite open if Lichtenberg’s suggestion really is a constructive proposal or even a kind of theory of consciousness in a nutshell. 7  Beyond Good and Evil on “it thinks”: making do without this little “it”? Nietzsche, who shares Lichtenberg’s scepticism about the possibility of really reforming the use of language, takes up his criticism of the ‘I think’ and carries it further. Aphorism 17 of Beyond Good and Evil tackles

112  Marco Brusotti Descartes and Kant and engages with a few other philosophers, albeit without mentioning them by name, not only with Lichtenberg but also with minor contemporaries such as Teichmüller, Drossbach, Widemann, and Spir.80 Here I focus only on Lichtenberg. As far as the superstitions of the logicians are concerned: I will not stop emphasizing a tiny little fact that these superstitious men are loath to admit: that a thought comes when “it” wants, and not when “I” want. It is, therefore, a falsification of the facts to say that the subject “I” is the condition of the predicate “think.” It thinks: but to say the “it” is just that famous old “I” – well that is just an assumption or opinion, to put it mildly, and by no means an “immediate certainty.” In fact, there is already too much packed into the “it thinks”: even the “it” contains an interpretation of the process, and does not belong to the process itself. People are following grammatical habits here in drawing conclusions, reasoning that “thinking is an activity, behind every activity something is active, therefore –.” Following the same basic scheme, the older atomism looked behind every “force” that produces effects for that little lump of matter in which the force resides, and out of which the effects are produced, which is to say: the atom. More rigorous minds finally learned how to make do without that bit of “residual earth,” and perhaps one day even logicians will get used to making do without this little “it” (into which the honest old I has disappeared).81 Here Nietzsche concludes by rejecting the suggestion to say ‘it thinks’ instead of ‘I think’; for “logicians” would actually have to renounce not only the ‘I’ (in ‘I think’) but also the ‘it’ (in ‘it thinks’). On the assumption that Nietzsche here refers (also) to Lichtenberg, should his text then be understood as dismissing his proposal? This is not excluded, but Lichtenberg’s proposal can also be given an alternative reading. The German physicist considers the expression ‘Ich denke’ (‘I think’) more questionable than the Latin ‘cogito’ because the German translation emphasises the postulated ‘I’ incomparably more. But if ‘cogito’ is better than ‘I think’, wouldn’t ‘cogitat’ be better than ‘it thinks’? So shouldn’t we emphasise only the change from first to third person, without postulating anything like an ‘it’? If we read Lichtenberg thus, Nietzsche takes his view further, rather than simply rejecting it, when he invites contemporary logicians to consider whether they could at some point do without the little word ‘it’. However, he thinks that it is still difficult for them to dispense with the ‘it’ and does not really commit himself as to how far a revision can be pushed. Thus, behind the possible dissent, there is still a certain agreement with Lichtenberg insofar the Enlightenment thinker already points out the difficulties faced by a rectification of language.

Transvaluation and Rectification  113 Lichtenberg claims an analogy between his suggestion ‘it thinks’ and a common expression like ‘it flashes’.82 In On The Genealogy of Morality, still without naming him, Nietzsche explains why the ‘it’ in ‘it flashes’ is misleading: “Basically, the common people double a deed; when they see lightning, they make a doing-a-deed [Thun-Thun] out of it: they posit the same event, first as cause and then as its effect.”83 The ‘doubling’, evident in ‘the lightning flashes’, is already present in ‘it flashes’ when the folk theorists misunderstand the expression in such a way that the pronoun ‘doubles’ the verb, i.e., when they detach the ‘it’ from the verb and misinterpret it as a “substratum”: as “doer” behind the deed, as “‘being’” behind the becoming – behind the “Thun, Wirken, Werden”.84 Nietzsche does not refer to Lichtenberg here. But the argument concerns his suggestion: if ‘it’ is misleading in ‘it flashes’, it is a fortiori so in ‘it thinks’. 8 Wittgenstein: “‘It thinks’. Is this sentence true + ‘I think’ false?” Wittgenstein is also not impressed by Lichtenberg’s suggestion: “‘It thinks’. Is this sentence true + ‘I think’ false?”85 Nietzsche would have answered this question in the negative: both sentences are false. ‘I think’ is clearly “a falsification of the facts”86 and ‘it thinks’, too, turns out to be inadequate. Logicians must leave behind the metaphysical view that thinking is the activity of a subject and question the ‘it’ that is the grammatical subject of ‘it thinks’. For Nietzsche, nevertheless, the new sentence ‘it thinks’ is a step in the right direction. Wittgenstein, in turn, considers Lichtenberg’s suggestion rather a step in the wrong direction, insofar as this proposal tries to replace a theory by a better one, and any such attempt is completely out of place in philosophy. Wittgenstein does not directly answer his question whether ‘I think’ is false and ‘It thinks’ true. However, already the wording suggests that he rejects the puzzle. This becomes even clearer if we focus on the textual context. Wittgenstein raises the issue of Lichtenberg’s proposal within the scope of the more general problem “is thought an experience or an activity?” [“ist der Gedanke eine Erfahrung oder eine Tätigkeit?”] (MS 115, 109; my translation) Lichtenberg’s objection against the ‘I think’ serves as an example because it involves that thinking is only apparently the activity of an I-subject since thinking is actually merely experienced and not produced. As Nietzsche puts it, “a thought comes when ‘it’ wants, and not when ‘I’ want”.87 With Wittgenstein, as expected, the alternative ‘experience versus activity’ ultimately turns out to be meaningless – and with it his own ironic question about the two sentences ‘I think’ versus ‘it thinks’ as well as Lichtenberg’s objection to Kant. “Yes, does this question make sense? […] The

114  Marco Brusotti peculiar, tenacious difficulty of this question already shows that it is not really a question.”88 Such “peculiar, tenacious difficulty” is characteristic of philosophical puzzles. They are no factual questions – and indeed, as Wittgenstein puts it, not really questions at all. Hence they cannot be answered by a theory but only be dissolved by grammatical remarks that expose them as misunderstandings. The alternative ‘I think’ versus ‘It thinks’ is puzzling insofar as it involves mistaking a grammatical question for a weird factual question: “The idea of the constituent of a fact &: ‘Is my person (or a person) a constituent of the fact that I see or not.’ This expresses a question concerning the symbolism just as if it were a question about the nature. / ‘Es denkt’. Ist dieser Satz wahr + ‘ich denke’ falsch?” (MS 148, 48v). The answer, again, is: no. For ‘I think’ is a form of representation and not a proposition of which one can say that it is (true or) false; accordingly, ‘it thinks’ would also be a form of representation and not a true (or false) proposition. It would thus be grammar, not experience. What Wittgenstein is getting at is that Lichtenberg, while he presumes that he is deciding a question about “nature”, is in fact struggling with a “question concerning the symbolism” (MS 148, 48v).89 Likewise, The Blue Book describes the solipsist as a philosopher that does not “disagree with us about any practical ‘question of fact’” (BBB, 59) but “is irresistibly tempted to use a certain form of expression” (BBB, 60). Lichtenberg, too, is dissatisfied with current grammar and intends to replace a common expression (“I think”) with an alternative that he feels is more accurate. Wittgenstein, however, sees in putting forward a new theory and in proposing a new grammar two distinct tasks – precisely because symbolism is arbitrary, grammar autonomous. Lichtenberg’s rectification of grammar, on the other hand, can be at least partly an empirical task. The false philosophy incorporated into the whole language encompasses all given systems of opinion and thought, and Lichtenberg’s own “university philosophy”, which seeks to restrain and rectify that popular philosophy, is enlightened knowledge, to which the natural sciences also belong, and not simply ‘philosophical grammar’. This is precisely the empirical way in which Wittgenstein does not conceive of the “rectification of linguistic usage”. Thus, while he subscribes to this task, he actually takes neither “philosophy” nor “rectification” in Lich­ tenberg’s sense. Unlike the Göttingen physicist, Wittgenstein, who strictly demarcates philosophy from science, does not mean the “rectification of a philosophy” as the replacement of folk-scientific views by more enlightened conceptions, among which scientific theories can also play a role. Rather, philosophical problems are to be solved through a (piecemeal) insight in ‘grammar’, and what Wittgenstein ‘rectifies’ is less common usage than philosophers’ jargon that deviates from it.

Transvaluation and Rectification  115 Nietzsche, who also leans more toward naturalism than Wittgenstein, does not see the rectification issue much differently from Lichtenberg even if he goes further in the critique of science, for he sees cognition as ultimately built on (mostly) useful fictions. All three thinkers seem to agree in the diagnosis: the root of the problem with the “I” lies in the grammar of our language. None of them denies that current grammar is largely up to the tasks of everyday life, in which it is embedded. Lichtenberg and Nietzsche, however, have similar misgivings: Lichtenberg regards grammar itself as a superstitious folk-science in need of (at least partly empirical, scientific) rectification, and for Nietzsche “the belief [Glaube] in grammar”90 is to blame: “I am afraid that we have not got rid of God because we still have faith [glauben] in Grammar…”91 For Wittgenstein, on the other hand, the problem is not that language users believe in grammar but that philosophers misunderstand it. Grammar itself is not a false prototheory in which the speakers believe in the way a hypothesis can be believed in. What requires rectification is not grammar itself, but only misunderstandings, which only need to be rectified conceptually, not empirically. It is important that philosophers are not deceived by language traps; however, they do not need to change anything about grammar; it is not their task to replace it with a ‘better’ one. The reason for Wittgenstein’s waiver of language reform is not that grammar is ‘correct’ but that it is arbitrary, autonomous. Thus, although neither Nietzsche nor Wittgenstein is completely satisfied with Lichtenberg’s criticism, the conclusions they reach diverge, which corresponds to the difference in their outlooks. Wittgenstein, however, ignores not only this difference but probably almost all of Nietzsche’s philosophy of language. 9 Conclusion In his Contributions to a Critique of Language [Beiträge zu einer Kritik der Sprache], Fritz Mauthner argues that Nietzsche, as a poet and master of style, was too enthralled by language to be its truly uncompromising critic, leaving this latter role to Mauthner himself. This antithesis between mastery of style and critique of language is a mere construction. Rooted in Mauthner’s thought, it ill suits Nietzsche, who from his youth was inspired by ancient (and modern) rhetoric where the two aspects closely interact. As a theoretical stance, the clear distinction of the two aspects cannot be attributed to Wittgenstein either – let alone their deliberate opposition. Thus, he is far from sharing Mauthner’s assessment of Nietzsche. Rather, one of the two closely interconnected aspects – the critique of language – largely escapes Wittgenstein: he simply does not take Nietzsche into account as a

116  Marco Brusotti philosopher of language (what Mauthner does). It is in Lichtenberg – and not in Nietzsche – that he sees something like a philosopher of language. While neglecting Nietzsche’s critique of language, he not only appreciates his mastery of style but more substantively self-identifies with the poet-philosopher and commits himself to a task that he understands as a kind of transvaluation. In 1938, the transvaluation of all values, that in the early 1930s stood for the whole age, becomes a formula for Wittgenstein’s own new “movement of thought”. However, he fills both formulas that he associates with Nietzsche, not only transvaluation but also the poet-philosopher, with a content that has only a distant affinity with the philosopher’s views. In 1930, the discrepancy could be largely traced to the fact that Wittgenstein came to the concept of transvaluation in the wake of the Decline of the West – so that his transvaluation was close to a Spenglerian upheaval. In 1938, however, Spengler’s influence is not the main reason for Wittgenstein’s divergence from Nietzsche. The reason is internal and lies in the peculiar nature of Wittgenstein’s new movement of thought. Actually, all models he chooses for this movement, including Kant’s Copernican turn and Einstein’s revolution, but especially transvaluation, rather than really having much in common with Wittgenstein’s thought, are different ways of emphasising the radical turn he intends to give to philosophy. Notes 1 MS 183, 64, 7.2.1931, in: PPO, 73. 2 Nietzsche’s ‘Umwertung’ is usually translated as ‘transvaluation’ or as ‘revaluation’. The prefix ‘um,’ which makes the word not easy to translate into English, implies reversal as in ‘Umsturz’ (overthrow) or ‘Umschwung’ (upheaval). Here I will rather use ‘transvaluation’ than ‘revaluation’ – not so much as a more faithful translation but as a term more typically associated with Nietzsche. 3 I offered a comprehensive overview of Wittgenstein’s encounters with Nietzsche in a previous paper. Cf. Brusotti 2009. §§ 1 and 2 are an abridged and much reworked version of sections 2 and 3 of that paper. The rest is new and partly based on sources that were not then available. 4 Hänsel spoke with Wittgenstein “about Spengler” in the afternoon of ­November 13, 1921. (Cf. TLH, 98, and on this Kienzler 2013, 321). Hänsel had “looked into Spengler, Decline of the West” (TLH, 94), on October 26 and had been “engaged” (TLH, 98) with the book in the days leading up to Wittgenstein’s visit (TLH, 98). Evidently it was because Hänsel had been reading the Decline that he and Wittgenstein came to talk about Spengler. Hänsel’s account does not convey whether Wittgenstein already knew of Spengler beforehand and/or read him shortly thereafter. The second volume of the Decline did not come out until 1922. In 1921 only the first volume was available, in the 1918 edition or in one of the many ‘unaltered editions’ [unveränderten Auflagen]; it was not until 1923 that the ‘33rd to 47th c­ ompletely remodeled editions’ of the first volume were successively released. In later years, Wittgenstein may have read both volumes, most probably using one of

Transvaluation and Rectification  117 the then accessible revised editions of the first volume. Especially in the case of this first volume, the question of which edition(s) he resorted to is not insignificant. For a term not used by Spengler in the first editions of the first volume, cf. Brusotti 2014, 25, n. 2. 5 Already the fragment of a letter to be dated before October 2, 1925, presumably addressed to Hermine Wittgenstein, is unmistakably “influenced” by Spengler. It was published under the title „Der Mensch in der roten Glasglocke” (“The Human in the Red Glass Bell Jar”). Cf. LS, 23–45; on this text, cf. ­Brusotti 2014, 24–27. On Wittgenstein’s reading of Spengler, cf. Brusotti 2014, 27–33, 264–273. 6 MS 154, 15v, in CV 1998, 16e. 7 Cf. MS 111, 119, 19.8.1931 (CV 1998, 21e–22e), and Brusotti 2014, 264–273. 8 MS 183, 53, 22.10.1930, in PPO, 61. “Unsere Zeit ist wirklich eine Zeit der Umwertung aller Werte. (Die Prozession der Menschheit biegt um eine Ecke & was früher die Richtung nach oben war ist jetzt die Richtung nach unten etc.) Hat Nietzsche das im Sinne gehabt was jetzt geschieht & besteht sein Verdienst darin es vorausgeahnt & ein Wort dafür gefunden zu haben?” (MS 183, 53, 22.10.1930, in PPO, 60). 9 Spengler 1926, 351 (translation slightly modified). „Als Nietzsche das Wort ‘Umwertung aller Werte’ zum ersten Male niederschrieb, hatte endlich die seelische Bewegung dieser Jahrhunderte, in deren Mitte wir leben, ihre Formel gefunden. Umwertung aller Werte – das ist der innerste Charakter jeder Zivilisation. Sie beginnt damit, alle Formen der voraufgegangenen Kultur umzuprägen, anders zu verstehen, anders zu handhaben. Sie erzeugt nicht mehr, sie deutet nur um. Darin liegt das Negative aller Zeitalter dieser Art. […]” (Spengler 1923, 451) I have already given this source of Wittgenstein’s remark in Brusotti 2009, 344–345. 10 LE 1993, 44. 11 LE 1993, 44. 12 I have dealt with this issue more extensively in Brusotti 2014, 27–33. 13 Ms 183, 24, 6.5.1930, in PPO, 31, 33. 14 PPO, 33. “Und dieser Glaube wird immer erst dann ad absurdum geführt, wenn durch einen Umschwung eine [U]mwertung der Werte eintritt d. h. das wahre Pathos nun sich auf andere Handlungsweise [sic; MB] legt.” (PPO, 32) Slightly changed, the implicit Greek model of Nietzsche’s transvaluation of all values (the old coins are newly minted, e.g. with a new effigy) becomes an explicit comparison in Wittgenstein’s diary: now a new currency applies and the old notes are worthless (cf. PPO, 32). 15 MS 110, 12; 12.–16.1.1931; CV 1998, 11e. In Wittgenstein’s remark, as in the Decline, the word „abendländisch” [western, occidental] stands for European culture from the tenth century A.D. onwards. On the consonances between his ideas and such views of Spengler, cf. Brusotti 2009, 343, esp. n. 27. On the triad Beethoven/Goethe/Nietzsche in The Decline of the West, cf. Brusotti 2009, 343–344. 16 Spengler 1926, 20. Atkinson himself puts “Ausblick” and “Überblick” in brackets when he translates their relationship as the difference between “outlook” and “overlook” (instead of this latter term I rather use “overview”). This passage on Goethe and Nietzsche comes from the preface of the revised edition of vol. 1. Cf. Spengler 1923, IX. 17 MS 110, 12; CV 1998, 12e.

118  Marco Brusotti 18 MS 110, 12; CV 1998, 12e. Perhaps Wittgenstein makes reference to: Spengler 1923, 300–301. 19 MS 110, 12; CV 1998, 12e. 20 MS 110, 12; CV 1998, 11e. 21 My translation. “Wenn ich nicht ein richtigeres Denken, sondern eine [andere∣neue] Gedankenbewegung lehren will, so ist mein Zweck eine, Umwertung von Werten’ und ich komme auf Nietzsche, sowie auch dadurch, daß meiner Ansicht nach, der Philosoph ein Dichter sein sollte.” (MS 120, 145r; 23.4.1938, in BNE. Unless otherwise indicated, texts from Wittgenstein’s Nachlass come from this edition.) 22 MS 146, 25v; 1933–1934; CV 1998, 28e. 23 MS 146, 25v; 1933–1934; CV 1998, 28e. 24 CV 1980, 24e. 25 CV 1998, 28e. 26 MS 146, 25v; 1933–1934; CV 1998, 28e; cf. CV 1980, 24e. “Ich glaube meine Stellung zur Philosophie dadurch zusammengefaßt zu haben, indem ich sagte: Philosophie dürfte man eigentlich nur dichten. Daraus muß sich, scheint mir, ergeben, wie weit mein Denken der Gegenwart, Zukunft, oder der Vergangenheit angehört. Denn ich habe mich damit auch als einen bekannt, der nicht ganz kann, was er zu können wünscht” (MS 146, 25v; CV 1998, 28). 27 EH 2007, “Thus Spoke Zarathustra”, § 4, 68. 28 Spengler 1926, 96. “Natur soll man wissenschaftlich traktieren, über Geschichte soll man dichten.” (Spengler 1923, 131) This passage is also quoted by Kienzler, according to whom Wittgenstein does not intend to versify, but to carefully craft his prose style. Cf. Kienzler 2006, 17. 29 Spengler 1926, 96. Cf. Spengler 1923, 131. In a similar sense, Wittgenstein’s above-mentioned remark denies that his movement of thought is “more correct” than another. See also below 105–107. 30 GS 1974, 8 (from W. Kaufmann: “Translator’s introduction”). Cf. KSA 3, 343. 31 EH 2007, The Gay Science (‘la gaya scienza’), 64. 32 Title of GS 2001, § 299, 169. 33 GS 2001, § 299; cf. Brusotti 1997, 457 ff. 34 BoT 1999, Preface, §2, 5. 35 BGE 2001, §211, 105. 36 BGE 2001, §211, 105. 37 BGE 2001, §211, 105. 38 BGE 2001, §211, 106. 39 BGE 2001, §211, 106. 40 MS 120, 145r; 23.4.1938. 41 Cf. MS 146, 25v; 1933–1934. 42 RR, 62. 43 TSZ 2006, I, “On Reading and Writing”, 28 (translation slightly modified). Cf. KSA 4, 48. 44 A first version, presumably unknown to Wittgenstein, reads: “Whoever writes maxims [Sentenzen] does not want to be read, but to be learned by heart.” (3[1]305, in KSA 10, 90; my translation.) 45 TSZ 2006, I, “On Reading and Writing”, 27. Cf. KSA 4, 48. 46 “Yet what did Zarathustra once say to you? That the poets lie too much? – But Zarathustra too is a poet. […]” (TSZ 2006, II, “On Poets”, 99). To the Dithyrambs of Dionysos belongs the poem “Mere fool! Mere poet!” [“Nur Narr! Nur Dichter!”], but Nietzsche does not see himself that way. A first version of

Transvaluation and Rectification  119 the poem is the magician’s song in the fourth part of Thus Spoke Zarathustra (cf. “The Song of Melancholy”, 242–244; cf. KSA 4, 371-374). 47 Redpath 1990, 41; also Redpath 1999, 18. 48 MS 146, 25v; 1933–1934; CV 1980, 24e; CV 1998, 28e. 49 RR, 62. Wittgenstein marks the same difference between a mathematician (but it could be any scholar), who wants to publish the results he has achieved right away, and an artist, who spends ages polishing his work: „For the artist […] just the apparent trivial details of statement may seem as important as anything else, and perhaps the most important thing.” (RR, 39) This dichotomy, which as such would come close to being a questionable commonplace, is actually a sort of self-portrait: Wittgenstein himself is the detail-obsessed artist who ultimately renounces the publication of the Philosophical Investigations during his lifetime. 50 MS 146, 25v; 1933–-1934; CV 1980, 24e. CV 1998, 28e. 51 MS 120, 145r; 23.4.1938. 52 In a not-so-different sense, the French philosopher of science Gaston Bachelard also comes to compare Einstein’s theory of relativity, Kant’s Copernican turn and Nietzsche’s transvaluation. Cf. Brusotti 2012, 53–55. 53 MS 110, 61. 54 MS 109, 58. Wittgenstein repeatedly compares the new, decisive “step” he takes in the early 1930s with “that of the theory of relativity” (MS 108, 270; cf. still OC, § 305). “The movement of thought that is necessary here is again the typical movement of the theory of relativity.” (MS 109, 199) 55 For more details, also on the connection with Nietzsche, cf. Brusotti 2009, 347–349. 56 This is only the main, though not the only, reason why grammar is autonomous or arbitrary. 57 MS 120, 145r; 23.4.1938; my translation. 58 MS 110, 12; 12.-16.1.1931; CV 1998, 11e. 59 A judgement that Wittgenstein had already expressed in 1914. Cf. MS 102, 39v, 40v, 41v (GT, 49–50) and Brusotti 2009, 341–343. 60 RR, 52. In this report to Drury from 30 June 1968, Rhees refers to a conversation he had had with Wittgenstein many years earlier. The editor, Gabriel Citron, remarks: “In Rhees 2001b (pp. 410–11), Rhees records Wittgenstein’s point about depth in a slightly different way: ‘If someone whom I think to be deeper than I am says, ‘Surely it must be possible to decide which is right’, I would say, ‘Well, all right, go ahead; good luck to you. I have no idea at all what sort of thing this will be, but good luck”.” (RR, 52, n. 155, with reference to OR.) In this latter case, the person Wittgenstein wishes good luck to is someone ‘deeper’ than he is, and not simply his interlocutor Rhees. 61 The report is taken “[f]rom Rhees’s notes entitled ‘Contradiction’ (2.5.1965), Rush Rhees Collection, UNI/ SU/PC/1/11/14.” Cf. the editor’s note: RR, 49, n. 134. 62 RR, 49. 63 TSZ 2006, The Sleepwalker Song, § 12, 264; translation modified. “Weh spricht: Vergeh! / Doch alle Lust will Ewigkeit – / – will tiefe, tiefe Ewigkeit!” (TSZ 2006, IV, Das Nachtwandler-Lied, § 12; KSA 4, 404). These verses belong to a song that appears first in the third part of Thus Spoke Zarathustra (TSZ 2006, The Other Dance Song, § 3, 184) and then, with an extensive verse-by-verse commentary, in the later written fourth part (The Sleepwalker Song, § 12).

120  Marco Brusotti 64 Kaufmann translates “go!” (TSZ 1978, 324). Alternative proposals like “Let it go!” (RR, 49, n. 137) or “Refrain!” (TSZ 2006, 264) are even further from the original. In other contexts, the verb “vergehen” is easier to translate. Its meaning comes close to that of “to pass” when this verb occurs in sentences like “all things must pass” or is used of time or a period (“the hours pass quickly”). “Alles vergeht” means “All things are passing”. “Wie die Zeit vergeht!” is akin to “how time flies!”, and the substantive “Vergänglichkeit” means “transience”, “impermanence”, “fleetingness”. 65 TSZ 2006, IV, “The Sleepwalker Song”, § 9, 262. Here Zarathustra’s whole commentary: “You grapevine! Why do you praise me! I cut you! I am cruel, you bleed – what does your praise want of my drunken cruelty? “What became perfect, everything ripe – wants to die!” so you speak. Blessed, blessed be the vintner’s knife! But everything unripe wants to live, alas! Pain says: “Go! Away, you pain!” But everything that suffers wants to live, to become ripe and joyful and longing, – longing for what is farther, higher, brighter. “I want heirs,” thus speaks all that suffers, “I want children, I do not want myself” – But joy does not want heirs, not children – joy wants itself, wants eternity, wants recurrence, wants everything eternally the same. Pain says: “Break, bleed, heart! Walk, legs! Wings, fly! Up! Upward! Pain!” Well then, well now, old heart! Pain says: “Go!” (TSZ 2006, IV, “The Sleepwalker Song”, § 9, 262, translation modified; Das Nachtwandler-Lied, § 9, KSA 4, 401–402.) 66 TSZ 2006, IV, “The Sleepwalker Song”, § 9, 262. 67 TSZ 2006, 264. 68 TSZ 1978, 324. Cf. TSZ 2006, 264. Cf. TSZ 2006, IV, Das NachtwandlerLied, § 12, KSA 4, 403. 69 This is not the case with the mention of Eternal Recurrence in The Brown Book (cf. D 310, 43; BBB, 104) and in its unaccomplished German reworking (cf. MS 115, 164–165, 25.8.1936; LWW, vol. 5, 151). Cf. Brusotti 2009, 359-360. 70 MS 162b, 59v; 1939–1940; CV 1998, 42e. 71 Ts 213, § 90, 422, in PO, 183; cf. already MS 112: 70v. Cf. Lichtenberg 1971, 197–198 (= Sudelbücher, Notebook H [146]); the whole aphorism is quoted below. Klagge/Nordmann and Luckhardt/Aue translate Lichtenberg’s “Berichtigung des Sprachgebrauchs” as “correction of the use of language”, Hollingdale as “rectification of colloquial linguistic usage”. I alternately use “correction” and “rectification”. 72 Lichtenberg 1867, 79; cf. Campioni et al. 2003, 354–356. Martin Stingelin chose these words as the title of his monograph on Nietzsche and Lichtenberg. Cf. Stingelin 1996. 73 To that extent, Nietzsche sees Lichtenberg differently from Wittgenstein. 74 I have changed the meaning of this sentence. Lichtenberg writes “Ich fühle mich”, and I have replaced “feel” [fühle] with “know”. I have done so because a reflexive verb is required which contains the two “objects” “I” and “me/ myself”. Whereas the German “ich fühle mich” is reflexive, the corresponding English “I feel” unfortunately is not. Instead, “I know myself” satisfies this requirement. 75 Lichtenberg 2000, 122. Hollingdale’s English edition is considerably abridged (for which reason the numbering of the aphorisms (here: [32]) differs from the canonical one); therefore, I have integrated his translation with my own version

Transvaluation and Rectification  121 of the omitted passages. Here is the German original of the first part of the aphorism: „Ich und mich. Ich fühle mich – sind zwei Gegenstände. Unsere falsche Philosophie ist der ganzen Sprache einverleibt; wir können so zu sagen nicht raisonnieren, ohne falsch zu raisonnieren. Man bedenkt nicht, daß Sprechen, ohne Rücksicht von was, eine Philosophie ist. Jeder, der Deutsch spricht, ist ein Volksphilosoph, und unsere Universitätsphilosophie besteht in Einschränkungen von jener. Unsere ganze Philosophie ist Berichtigung des Sprachgebrauchs, also, die Berichtigung einer Philosophie, und zwar der allgemeinsten. […]” (Lichtenberg 1971, 197–198 = Sudelbücher, Notebook H [146]). 76 TS 213, § 90, 422–423, in PO, 183, 185. Here Wittgenstein replaces ­Lichtenberg’s ‘einverleibt’ [incorporated, embodied] with “geprägt” ­[engraved]. ­Nietzsche, who does not mention aphorism H [146], uses the verb ‘­ einverleiben’ in a way similar to Lichtenberg’s. According to the author of the Waste Books, “our false philosophy” is “incorporated into the whole language”; for Nietzsche, metaphysical fallacies such as the category of substance are ­ ­embodied not only in our language, but – in the literal sense – in ourselves, that is, they are already inherent in the physiology of our sense organs, as nineteenth century Sinnesphysiologie teaches. 77 Lichtenberg 2000, 122. 78 Lichtenberg 2000, 190. This English translation by Hollingdale abridges the aphorism. Here the whole text in the original language: “Wir werden uns gewisser Vorstellungen bewußt, die nicht von uns abhängen; andere glauben, wir wenigstens hingen von uns ab [[andere, glauben wir wenigstens, hingen von uns ab]]; wo ist die Grenze? Wir kennen nur allein die Existenz unserer Empfindungen, Vorstellungen und Gedanken. Es denkt, sollte man sagen, so wie man sagt: es blitzt. Zu sagen cogito, ist schon zu viel, sobald man es durch Ich denke übersetzt. Das Ich anzunehmen, zu postulieren, ist praktisches Bedürfnis” (Lichtenberg 1971, 412 = Sudelbücher, Notebook K [76]). On ­Nietzsche’s reading marks in this aphorism, cf. Campioni et al. 2003, 354-356; Stingelin 1996, 123, n. 147, 179. The present article cannot deal with the full range of Lichtenberg’s conceptions, which, for example, often insist on the plurality of the selves of what is apparently the very same person. On this topic, see e.g. the chapter “Wer ist dieser Ich?”, in Stingelin 1996, 24–33. 79 CPR 2007, 331 [= KdrV A 345–346 / B 404]; my emphasis. Cf. the reference in Gasser 1996, 691–692; Loukidelis 2013, 51. 80 Among the rich literature, see especially Loukidelis 2013, who also discusses the minor philosophers mentioned in the text. They are no less important than Lichtenberg for Nietzsche’s aphorism. On Nietzsche and Lichtenberg about the “it thinks”, cf. also Canguilhem 1980, 909–910. 81 BGE 2001, §17, 17–18. Cf. KSA 5, 30–31. 82 Cf. Lichtenberg 1971, 501 (=Sudelbücher, Notebook L [806]), also cited in Stingelin 1996, 123-124, n. 149. 83 GM 2006, I §13, 26. Cf. KSA 5, 279. Just before the sentence quoted in the text, Nietzsche writes: “And just as the common people separates lightning from its flash and takes the latter to be a deed, something performed by a subject, which is called lightning, popular morality separates strength from the manifestations of strength, as though there were an indifferent substratum behind the strong person which had the freedom to manifest strength or not. But there is no such substratum; there is no ‘being’ behind the deed, its effect and what becomes of it; ‘the doer’ is invented as an afterthought, – the doing is

122  Marco Brusotti everything.” (GM 2006, I §13, 30.) Nietzsche mentions the example of lightning more than once. Cf. KSA 12, 2[84], 2[193] as well as Gasser 1996, 693– 694, Stingelin 1996, 124–125, who both refer to Lichtenberg. 84 GM 2006, I §13, 26. 85 MS 148: 48v; my translation. Cf. MS 115: 110; MS 157a: 19v. “Lichtenberg said: ‘For ‘I think’ we ought to say ‘It thinks’.’ (‘Es blitzt’.)” (MN, 287) “Remember the remark: One should not say ‘I think’ but ‘it thinks.’” (WLPP, 156) There is no reason to assume that Wittgenstein’s recurrent reference to this passage, repeatedly in oral communications and perhaps from memory, does not go back to a direct reading of Lichtenberg. However, the well-known aphorism from the Waste Books is also mentioned by authors intensively read by Wittgenstein. Otto Weininger calls Lichtenberg “the philosopher of impersonality” that “soberly corrects the linguistic ‘I think’ with a factual ‘it thinks’; thus, for him, the I is actually an invention of the grammarians.” (Weininger 1997, 198) – Freud declares that his term ‘id’ (Es = it) goes back to Georg Groddeck who drew it from Nietzsche. On the possible role of Nietzsche’s aphorism on “it thinks”, cf. Gasser 1996, 107–117; on BGE 2001, §17 and Lichtenberg, cf. also 692–693. 86 BGE 2001, §17, 17. 87 BGE 2001, §17, 17. 88 MS 115, 110; my translation. 89 This objection may apply to Lichtenberg’s “It thinks” whereas Kant does not take his “I think” as an empirical proposition. 90 KSA 11, 639; 40[23]. 91 TI 2005, “Reason” in Philosophy, § 5, 170; cf. KSA 6, 78.

References Brusotti, Marco. (1997). Die Leidenschaft der Erkenntnis. Philosophie und ästhetische Lebensgestaltung bei Nietzsche von Morgenröthe bis Also sprach Zarathustra, Berlin/New York: de Gruyter. ———. (2009). “Wittgensteins Nietzsche. Mit vergleichenden betrachtungen zur Nietzsche-Reception im Wiener Kreis.” Nietzsche-Studien, 38:1, 335–362. ———. (2012). “Diskontinuitäten. Nietzsche und der ‘französische Stil’ in der Wissenschaftsphilosophie: Bachelard und Canguilhem mit einem Ausblick auf Foucault”, in: Renate Reschke / Marco Brusotti (eds.): “Einige werden posthum geboren.” Friedrich Nietzsches Wirkungen, Berlin/Boston: de Gruyter, 51–78. ———. (2014). Wittgenstein, Frazer und die “ethnologische Betrachtungsweise”, Berlin/Boston: de Gruyter. Campioni, Giuliano et al. (eds.). (2003). Nietzsches persönliche Bibliothek, Berlin/ New York: De Gruyter. Canguilhem, Georges. ([1980] 2018). Le cerveau et la pensée, in Georges Canguilhem: Œuvres complètes, vol. V: Histoire des sciences, épistémologie, commémorations 1966–1995. Paris: Vrin, 895–932. Gasser, Reinhard. (1996). Nietzsche und Freud, Berlin/New York: de Gruyter. Kienzler, Wolfgang (2006). “Die Stellung des Big Typescripts in Wittgensteins Werkentwicklung”, in Stefan Majetschak (ed.): Wittgensteins “große Maschinenschrift”: Untersuchungen zum philosophischen Ort des Big Typescripts (TS 213) im Werk Ludwig Wittgensteins, Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang, 11–30.

Transvaluation and Rectification  123 ———. (2013). “Wittgenstein und Spengler”. In: Rothhaupt, Josef G. F./Vossenkuhl, Wilhelm (eds.): Kulturen und Werte. Wittgensteins Kringel-Buch als Initialtext, Berlin/Boston, 317–336. Lichtenberg, Georg Christoph. (1867). Vermischte Schriften. Neue ­Original-Ausgabe, 8 vols. (vol. 1). Göttingen: Dieterich. ———. (1971). Schriften und Briefe. Herausgegeben von Wolfgang Promies, 4 Vols. (Vol. 2). München/Wien: Hanser. ———. (2000): The Waste Books, Translated and with an Introduction by R. J. Hollingdale, New York: New York Review of Books. Loukidelis, Nikolaos. (2013). “Es denkt” – Ein Kommentar zum Aphorismus 17 aus “Jenseits von Gut und Böse”, Würzburg: Königshausen & Neumann. Redpath, Theodor. (1990). Ludwig Wittgenstein. A Student’s Memoir, London: Duckworth. ———. (1999). “A Student’s Memoir.” In F. A. Flowers III (ed.), Portraits of Wittgenstein (Vol. 3, 3–52). Bristol: Thoemmes Press. Spengler, Oswald. (1923). Der Untergang des Abendlandes. Umrisse einer Morphologie der Weltgeschichte, vol. 1: Gestalt und Wirklichkeit, 48. bis 52. völlig umgestaltete Auflage, München: Beck. ———. (1926). The Decline of the West, vol. 1, Form and Actuality, authorised translation with notes by Charles Francis Atkinson, New York: Knopf. Stingelin, Martin. (1996). “Unsere ganze Philosophie ist Berichtigung des Sprachgebrauchs”: Friedrich Nietzsches Lichtenberg-Rezeption im Spannungsfeld zwischen Sprachkritik (Rhetorik) und historischer Kritik (Genealogie), München: Fink. Weininger, Otto. (1997). Geschlecht und Charakter: Eine prinzipielle Untersu­ chung, München: Matthes & Seitz.

5 ‘jenseits der Grenze’ Wittgenstein and Nietzsche on Value and Nonsense Pascal F. Zambito

1 Movements of Thought Why does Wittgenstein associate his aim in philosophy to Nietzsche’s ‘Umwertung von Werten’ (MS 120, 145r)? He rarely discusses values in the mathematical, logical or grammatical reflections that make up the bulk of his writings. In this chapter, I approach this question by looking at both philosophers’ emphasis on the personal commitment to how one conceives the world, which might explain the word ‘value’, their attempt to change their readers’ perspective, which explains the envisaged change of value, and the role of language and morality in this shift. In particular, I present a Nietzschean reading of the Tractatus based on some key ideas in ­Nietzsche’s writings of which I focus on Beyond Good and Evil. In order to motivate and prepare the actual comparison, let me first give some background of the concepts involved and the historical context of Wittgenstein’s reference to Nietzsche as well as some philological discussion of this remark itself. There are two connected, but distinguishable, senses of ‘Umwerthung’ in Nietzsche’s writings. Both are present in Beyond Good and Evil where the first published use of the expression occurs.1 The first concerns a historical revaluation, namely from ancient and ‘noble’ values to Christian morality which Nietzsche condemns (BGE 2001, §46; similar in §§194– 195 and GM 2007, I, §§7–8). Later in the book, he calls for another ‘Umwerthung’ of those Christian values into something new (BGE §203). ‘Umwerthung’ in this second and forward-looking sense is, according to him, the task of future philosophers and becomes a slogan for all his later writings.2 Depending on their context, the mentions of ‘Umwerthung’ allow for various interpretations and suggest different translations. The anti-Christian remarks speak of a historic inversion of the ancient values. It is possible to understand the second sense of ‘Umwerthung’ as such an inversion too and hence as a re-valuation, a return to the values that were in place prior to

DOI: 10.4324/9781003219071-7

‘jenseits der Grenze’  125 Christian morality. This view implies a dichotomy of value systems: ancient/‘noble’ vs Christian. While Nietzsche’s remarks often point to such a dichotomy, some suggest an interpretation of ‘Umwerthung’ that has been called ‘utopian’ because it leaves open what the new values are.3 To indicate this openness, the word ‘transvaluation’ may be used. Which interpretation does Wittgenstein have in mind when he speaks of ‘Umwerthung’? His first use of the expression around 1930 is probably mediated through Spengler.4 It resembles Nietzsche’s historical usage of revaluation, but without referring to Antiquity or Christianity in particular. With every change of culture in a Spenglerian sense, the value that is attached to things or actions changes accordingly: drinking may at one time be a sacred ritual, at another just booze (MS 183, 22–23). Especially in times of a declining culture – as which both Spengler and Wittgenstein perceived the West in early 20th century – such a change amounts to an inversion of the values of the preceding high culture, a process for which Nietzsche’s expression ‘Umwertung aller Werte’ seems fitting (MS 183, 53). On 23 April 1938, Wittgenstein speaks of ‘Umwertung’ again. Remarkably, he does not refer to the change of values that has occurred in his home country one month earlier, the annexation of Austria by Nazi Germany.5 Instead Wittgenstein uses the word to refer to his own work, which gives it a kind of programmatic character. What makes it even more interesting is the fact that it appears at a critical phase of his development where he was generally concerned with the aim of philosophy. After the failed attempts to write a book in the early 1930s, the basis of Philosophical Investigations and its specific understanding of philosophy were developed primarily during two stays in Norway 1936 and 1937. In 1938, the Urfassung (MS 142) and the intermediate version (TS 220–21) were already in place and Wittgenstein was seriously considering publication; in August 1938 he wrote a preface (MS 225) which already resembles the final version from 1945. The difference to the earlier book projects is not so much a new content as a new form. In contrast to the Big Typescript and the Brown Book, this new form is marked by openness and methodological diversity, a criss-cross procedure that presents various perspectives on similar issues to solve philosophical confusions.6 In this period he writes the remark that interests me: Wenn ich nicht ein richtigeres Denken, sondern eine andere/neue Gedankenbewegung lehren will, so ist mein Zweck eine ‘Umwertung von Werten’ & ich komme auf Nietzsche, sowie auch dadurch, daß meiner Ansicht nach der Philosoph ein Dichter sein sollte. Considering the emphasis on different or new rather than correct thinking, I follow Nuno Venturinha’s translation as ‘transvaluation’ rather than Joachim Schulte’s ‘revaluation’;7 the new Gedankenbewegung or

126  Pascal F. Zambito Umwertung seems utopian rather than dichotomic.8 The expression ‘komme auf’ requires a free translation to capture Wittgenstein’s association of his philosophy with Nietzsche when he thinks about his aim (to capture this gist, Schulte translates it as ‘I come to resemble Nietzsche’). If I do not want to teach a more correct thinking, but a new movement of thought, then my aim is a ‘transvaluation of values’ and Nietzsche comes to my mind as well as through my view that the philosopher should be a poet. The singular in the end is clearly generic (Schulte therefore has ‘philosophers’ and ‘poets’). It is less clear, but likely, that ‘movement of thought’ is a generic singular too as there is a general emphasis on methodological pluralism in those years.9 Wittgenstein’s later philosophy can hardly be said to be one movement of thought (I will say more about Gedankenbewegung below). One should at least qualify it as a highly mobile way of thinking as the metaphor of criss-cross traveling over a field of thought suggests (PI, Preface; drafted in June 1938: MS 117, 112). As Schulte points out further, the whole structure of the sentence is hypothetical and may be read as a reminder that the ambition to teach philosophy could lead to far-reaching and potentially unwanted consequences.10 However, considering that April 1938 was the start of Easter term in ­Cambridge when Wittgenstein returned to teaching after a longer break,11 it is not implausible that he actually thought about what he would tell his students – especially as he had made such important progress in the ­preceding months. As this progress concerned primarily the question how to communicate his ideas (hence the new form of Philosophical ­Investigations), the word ‘teach’ does not seem all wrong here. Sure enough, he does not think about teaching a doctrine of philosophical ­propositions, but a certain attitude or method, a movement of thought. Lecture notes by Wittgenstein’s students support this assumption. A good candidate for a ‘new movement of thought’ could be his famous distinction between first person and third person uses of pain expressions. The expression ‘transvaluation of values’ is puzzling because it is far from obvious what values have to do with such ‘grammatical movements’.12 Yet in the first meeting of Easter Term, two days after the remark on ­Nietzsche,13 Wittgenstein speaks about pain expressions and related confusions. As ­becomes clear in the second meeting, this was an example for his more general view of philosophy. He uses the metaphor of the fly-bottle, which shall later become famous as illustrating his ‘aim in philosophy’ (PI §309), and suggests ‘training’ the fly (our mind) with specific exercises in order to facilitate certain movements. A connection to the question of values might be implied by his description of philosophical confusion as ‘in a sense a

‘jenseits der Grenze’  127 personal question’ and his remark shortly after: ‘What I do is, in a sense, influence your style. (What I do is alter your style.)’ (WCL, 8).14 Wittgenstein’s emphasis on style and the idiosyncratic form of his writing might explain the reference to poetry when he mentions Nietzsche. Most interpretations of the remark focus on this aspect.15 It is, however, unclear what the relation between the first statement (Umwertung) and the second (poetry) is. They are connected by the conjunction(s) ‘sowie auch’ which enumerates separate items rather than joining them together – there surely is some connection, but explaining one does not necessarily explain the other. And although instructive things have been said about philosophy as poetry, the question of ‘Umwertung’ remains obscure. Schulte is closest to an answer when he says that a major shift of one’s attitude might be called a ‘revaluation of values’16 – but this already presupposes some understanding of the kind of shift that is aimed at and of the kind of value that we are talking about. One reason why poetry has received more attention than value is the plausible connection between Wittgenstein’s (few but significant) remarks on poetry and his unconventional style. By contrast, the scarce statements on ethical or aesthetic value – for now I ignore instances like ‘value of a variable’ – mostly occur in private remarks whose relation to the philosophical arguments remains unclear. Why should Wittgenstein’s aim be a transvaluation of values? To approach this question, I suggest looking at the most prominent discussion of value in Wittgenstein’s oeuvre, namely the 6.4s of the Tractatus where he discusses the place (or non-place) of ethics in his system. Although the passage is as laconic and obscure as the whole book, it undoubtedly belongs to its philosophical climax and ‘ethical sense’, as he famously called it.17 While the extent to which his reading of Nietzsche influenced the Tractatus remains speculative, a Nietzschean perspective on the Tractatus provides a fresh approach to the book’s aim, presenting it as an attempted Umwertung. Interpreting early Wittgenstein with a late remark requires some justification. In 1938, he probably did not think of the Tractatus. Let me address the question of continuity by looking once more at ‘movements of thought’. The expression Gedankenbewegung, or Denkbewegung occurs in a number of different contexts which usually concern general remarks on philosophy. The earliest instance is this remark from 1930: What cannot be expressed, thereof one cannot speak either. (What I do is not so much the search for a discovery but rather exercises of thought, that is, exercises to make a certain movement of thought; as one does exercises for the trunk to finally be able to make a certain difficult movement.) (MS 108, 248)

128  Pascal F. Zambito The remark in parentheses clearly resembles the ideas from spring 1938: the ‘discovery’ – in a later typed version ‘discovery of a new truth’ (MS 210, 61) – corresponds to the ‘more correct’ thinking. Both remarks confirm Wittgenstein’s primary interest in intellectual movements, rather than true propositions. The idea that such movements require some form of mental exercise reappears in the 1938 lecture. The whole parenthesis comments on the preceding remark which is an echo of the Tractatus’ final sentence. By bringing together and anticipating ideas from 1918, 1930 and 1938, the remark can be read as a connection between these different phases in Wittgenstein’s writing which has to do with the role of ‘movements of thought’. What else do we know about them? There are roughly two interrelated senses in which the expression is used. First, it is used in the plural, as different ways to conceive of a problem. The quoted reflection from 1930 belongs to this group. So do other remarks from the years 1930–32, where Wittgenstein names concrete movements of thought, like the conception of non-Euclidean geometry, relativity theory, Freud’s theory of dreams18 and the well-known list of influences from Boltzmann to Sraffa.19 Later (1946–48) he mentions such movements more abstractly as methodical tools for his philosophical activity. As if in response to the express aim to teach new movements of thought ten years earlier, he considers the difficulty of learning new movements in 1948.20 In a second group of remarks, Wittgenstein speaks about his own Denk­ bewegung, in the singular, as a characteristic of his philosophy. Emphatically he highlights the difference between his and the scientists’ movement of thought; he is proud of, ‘in love with’, his own Denkbewegung.21 Although its main line has changed since the Tractatus,22 there seems to be some continuity insofar as his movement of thought can be found in the history of his mind and – a very Nietzschean idea – its ‘moral concepts’.23 In light of these remarks some questions arise. How many movements of thought are there? How much continuity is there from early to late Wittgenstein’s movement of thought? What is the connection between the movement of thought and morality? My answer to these questions amounts to a sort of guiding hypothesis for the remainder of the chapter: Wittgenstein does indeed have a characteristic Denkbewegung. It is his preference of sense over truth, his focus on methods, ways of thinking and perspectives rather than ‘discoveries’ or ‘more correct thinking’ in an already given framework. This concern with the conditions of truth rather than truth itself is already present in the Tractatus. It resembles a basic idea of Kant, as Wittgenstein himself notes later.24 Like Kant’s prime example of synthetic a priori knowledge is geometry, Wittgenstein’s preferred means to illustrate his Denkbewegung is geometrical imagery. The movement of thought gets modified later by recognizing that the ‘geometry’ described in the Tractatus is valid ‘only for

‘jenseits der Grenze’  129 this narrowly circumscribed area, not for the whole of what you were purporting to describe’ (PI §3). From 1930, Wittgenstein repeatedly compares his movement of thought to relativity theory.25 Extending this analogy, one might say: the Tractatus with its ‘logical space’ is a limiting case and roughly relates to Wittgenstein’s later philosophy like special relativity relates to general relativity. As in relativity, the word ‘space’ loses its meaning and gets replaced by a variety of situational geometries, fluid metrics that depend on local conditions; hence the emphasis on many Gedankenbewegungen (and methods of measurement) in the later Wittgenstein. What remains the same, however, is, first, the focus on sense rather than truth, on the structures that determine possibility in the first place before the question of truth comes up at all. And second, that these things cannot be expressed by means of the same language that constitutes the respective space of possibilities.26 ‘What cannot be expressed, thereof one cannot speak either.’ This statement is central to Wittgenstein’s ideas about ethics in the Tractatus. One of its traces leads to Nietzsche. 2 Nietzsche on Philosophy and the Limits of Language In this section, I sketch some of Nietzsche’s key ideas that I see at work in the Tractatus. I have other reasons to discuss mainly Beyond Good and Evil, but let me make one last philological remark. Wittgenstein’s familiarity with Nietzsche ‘requires no special explanation. It was part of his cultural heritage’, as Brian McGuinness says.27 He and other scholars have noted similarities of Zarathustra’s motto ‘Ein Buch für Alle und Keinen’ with the preface of the Tractatus. Others have pointed out his sister Hermine’s reading of Human, All Too Human in 1917 which may have been part of the siblings’ discussions and may have influenced the ideas of silence where nothing can be said, and of ‘overcoming’ one’s own positions.28 More concrete evidence is given in the form of Wittgenstein’s notebook entry from December 1914, stating that he had ‘bought and read volume 8 of Nietzsche’ and was ‘deeply moved by his hostility to Christianity’ (MS 102, 39v). It is generally assumed that this refers to vol. 8 of the Naumann edition, containing some late unpublished texts as well as The Antichrist, The Case of Wagner, Nietzsche contra Wagner and Twilight of the Idols.29 While familiarity with Nietzsche can thus be assumed, there is no conclusive evidence for Wittgenstein’s reading of a particular work. Instead of the large format Naumann edition, he might just as well refer to vol. 8 of the pocket edition which contains BGE and GM – and plenty of hostility to Christianity.30 Concerning our question, it also contains the first two published occurrences of ‘Umwerthung’: the historical Christian revaluation (BGE §46; similar in §§194–195) and the utopian task of

130  Pascal F. Zambito philosophers (§203). Be that as it may, the facts are at least compatible with my attempt to read the Tractatus through the lens of BGE, but I do not need to rely on them: ‘Umwertung’ was a widespread concept and associated with Nietzsche even by people who had not studied his work. The reason for looking at BGE in particular is its programmatic nature. Considered by some to be the ‘most important statement of his philosophy’,31 it contains concrete articulations of what Nietzsche rejects in the tradition of philosophy and expects from its future. In the following I highlight some elements of it and describe how they can throw light on the Tractatus even if Wittgenstein did not consciously write his book with BGE in mind. The first remarkable idea in Beyond Good and Evil is, somewhat surprisingly, not a challenge of morality, but a challenge of truth.32 Nietzsche calls the ‘will to truth’ into question (BGE §1). Among the ‘prejudices of philosophers’, which he aims to dismantle, is their belief to pursue the truth without any personal involvement. Although philosophers purport to be on a high-minded quest for the eternal and pure, their seemingly ­objective truths are, in fact, steeped in personal values and by no means opposed to the selfish and worldly sphere of nature (§2). The ‘prejudice’ is the pretension to achieve metaphysically necessary results ‘through the self-evolving of a cold, pure, divinely indifferent dialectic’. One example is Spinoza’s Ethics and its ‘geometrical’ method which appears maximally objective, but in fact, according to Nietzsche, expresses nothing but ‘the love of his wisdom’ (§5). It has gradually become clear to me what every great philosophy up till now has consisted of – namely, the confession of its originator,33 and a species of involuntary and unconscious auto-biography; and moreover that the moral (or immoral) purpose in every philosophy has constituted the true vital germ out of which the entire plant has always grown. (§6) In other words, the ‘sense’ of every philosophical book is ‘ethical’; every great philosophy codifies its author’s morality into a philosophical system. ‘It always creates the world in its own image’ (§9). Yet Nietzsche’s critique is not directed at the personal involvement of philosophers per se, but at their failure or reluctance to accept it. The codification of values into a system is a symptom of the Will to Power which is regarded positive as long as one is aware of it and does not believe to follow a strictly neutral will to truth. Admitting to oneself and to others one’s personal commitments, even in the seemingly non-moral statements about logic or epistemology, is a sign of ‘the good taste of courage’ (§5). Another major object of this critique are Kant’s synthetic judgements a priori which are said to belong to ‘the falsest opinions’ (§4) – an interesting

‘jenseits der Grenze’  131 superlative to which I shall get back later. Nevertheless Nietzsche does not condemn them: to believe in such apparently apodictic propositions might be indispensable for human beings although this does not make them true. The question should be why we need such beliefs, why they are necessary, and not, as Kant asked, ‘How are they possible?’ – ‘Synthetic judgements a priori should not “be possible” at all; we have no right to them; in our mouths they are nothing but false judgments. Only, of course, the belief in their truth is necessary, as plausible belief and ocular evidence belonging to the perspective view of life’. (§11) The personal involvement in philosophical systems explains why a change of perspective might be painful. A transvaluation as Nietzsche calls for ‘has to contend with unconscious antagonism in the heart of the investigator, it has “the heart” against it’ (§23). Accordingly, a doctrine’s capacity to make happy is not a sign of its truth. While these remarks are full of Nietzsche’s typical questions and ambiguities, their main purpose is clearly to introduce the idea that unhappiness and wickedness may be just as good, or better, conditions for ‘free spirits’ than the virtues of traditional morality. The value of ‘truth’ remains questionable, but at least hypothetically we are presented a view that was first articulated in Birth of Tragedy: that truth is terrible and ‘strength of mind might be measured by the amount of “truth” it could endure’ (BGE §39; cf. BoT §7). While happiness is merely ‘no argument’ here, Nietzsche’s aversion to the utilitarian pursuit of happiness is expressed more strongly in Zarathustra’s description of ‘the most contemptible person: but he is the last human being’ (TS Z 2006, 9). A lazy breed of enlightened hedonists who maximise pleasure and minimise suffering in every situation and have banned everything that is great and dangerous from the earth: ‘“We invented happiness” – say the last human beings, blinking’ (10). The fifth chapter of Beyond Good and Evil sets out to challenge a ‘Science of Morals’ which takes morality as a ‘given’ whose basics need only be discovered (§186). Against this, Nietzsche emphasises the plurality of possible value systems and takes up the idea from the first chapter that philosophers codify their personal preferences in their systems, their notations: ‘systems of morals are only a sign-language of the emotions’ (§187). Rather than s­ cience, philosophy resembles poetry in its creation of, and obedience to, certain rules – not because these rules are true, but because without them no moral action is possible at all. Creating a language, like the poets do, resembles creating a way of life. With a side-glance to Wittgenstein’s apparently ­Nietzschean view ‘that the philosopher should be a poet’, we can note that Nietzsche includes among the great poets ‘some of the prose writers of ­today, in whose ear dwells an inexorable conscientiousness’ (§188).34 Although many systems of morality are possible, the Christian ‘herd animal morality’35 rejects ‘such a “possibility”’ and claims to be the only

132  Pascal F. Zambito one: ‘it says obstinately and inexorably “I am morality itself and nothing else is morality!”’ (BGE §202). While Nietzsche thus emphasises the plurality of value systems, he implicitly assumes a hierarchy in which the Christian values are ranked low, whereas the free, unrestrained, acting out of the Will to Power is ranked high. Does he not claim that his preferred value system is, if not unique, better, the best, the right morality to follow? By what criteria though? His specification in Genealogy ‘higher value in the sense of advancement, benefit and prosperity for man in general’ (preface, §6) does not help much. What is advancement, benefit, prosperity when all moral concepts have been transvaluated? It seems in this kind of ‘Umwertung’ there is indeed no ‘more correct thinking’, only perspective and example. This explains the typical tensions between Nietzsche’s rejection of dogmatism and his own seemingly dogmatic statements. After his critique of other philosophers’ naive belief to have found the basis of knowledge and morality, his own claim ‘life itself is Will to Power’ (§13) seems at least questionable. After his, almost Wittgensteinian, reconstruction of the grammatical mistake to infer a single entity from the word ‘will’ – ‘a unity only in name’ (§19)36 – how are we to understand his thesis (‘mein Satz’) of ‘explaining our entire instinctive life as the development and ramification of one fundamental form of will – namely, the Will to Power’ (§36)? Like the philosophers whom he criticises, Nietzsche creates the world in his image. While he presents his thesis with the same or even greater conviction, he prides himself to stand out from other thinkers through his ‘courage’ to reveal the perspective and experimental character of his own view. In his texts, there are countless warnings not to take every word at face value: quotations, different voices, the subjunctive mood, ambiguities, irony and the preference of questions over affirmative statements. Not as clear as Wittgenstein, but recognizably, he is aware that his view itself cannot be straightforwardly articulated. ‘Language, here as elsewhere, will not get over its awkwardness’ (§24). In an insightful interpretation of §24, especially its performative undermining of a logic of oppositions, Martin Endres puts the central problem of Beyond Good and Evil thus: how is a linguistic expression possible beyond this Beyond, ‘jenseits dieses Jenseits’?37 While the critique of the ruling Christian morality is one of several topics in BGE, Nietzsche contours the problem more sharply in its ‘supplement and clarification’, the Genealogy of Morality: ‘the value of these values should itself, for once, be examined’ (Preface, §7). Obviously, the word ‘value’ is used in two senses here. The first is measure, the second is measured. But the use of the same word can be explained by the fact that the second is a measure too. Value in the second sense is a system of morality. ‘Good and bad’ are not two values; it is one value that is opposed to

‘jenseits der Grenze’  133 another value ‘good and evil’ (GM, I, §16) – at least at this point, N ­ ietzsche uses the word ‘value’ for an entire framework by which actions can be measured. This measure shall itself be measured when he asks for the value of such a system – and the question arises: what are the criteria? The ‘problem of values’, ‘to decide on the rank order of values’ (GM I, §17, note), is the task of future philosophers – but this is an impossible task! It is a central problem of Nietzsche. While his critique of dogmatic systems makes sense, he cannot make sense of his positive vision. Creating a morality is nonsense, but he lacks the philosophical means to clearly express why such an enterprise is hopeless. The creation and description of a new language transcends the possibilities that it itself determines. Nevertheless, ­Nietzsche’s frequent signs of irony and self-awareness show a hunch of this insight. He seems to be on the same page as Wittgenstein. For both, the task of philosophy is precisely to deal with such nonsense. ‘Our deepest insights must – and should – appear as follies’ (§30). 3 Value and Nonsense in Wittgenstein’s Tractatus Nietzsche claims the doctrine of Will to Power as his thesis, ‘mein Satz’ (BGE §36). A pre-stage of this aphorism corresponds to a dictation from 1885 which has become famous, also to English readers, through the Nachlass publication Will to Power: ‘And do you know what “the world” is to me? Shall I show it to you in my mirror?’38 I suggest regarding the Tractatus under this motto. The book may appear like ‘discoveries’, as Wittgenstein later regrets (MS 109, 213), but it can also, and perhaps better, be understood as a ‘possibility’, as a way to look at ‘the world’ – in his mirror. The Tractatus famously begins with ‘the world’. We can, another similarity to Nietzsche, assume a conscious echo of Schopenhauer as well as a conscious deviation. For Schopenhauer, the ‘world is my representation’ (WWR, 3), for Wittgenstein it is ‘everything that is the case’ (TLP 1). This opening may be read in a quasi-constructivist sense. It is not a description that may be true or false, but an announcement: this is what I will call ‘the world’. Wittgenstein too ‘creates the world in his image’. The definiens ‘everything that is the case’ (‘alles, was der Fall ist’) allows further associations to the book of Genesis. In an important sense the biblical Fall is indeed ‘beyond good and evil’: it is the condition of good and evil – which raises the question how the ‘original sin’ itself could have been evil.39 Likewise, Wittgenstein’s Tractarian system concerns the condition of true and false propositions – but how can the system itself be true as the preface confidently claims? The word ‘Wahrheit’ is emphasised in the preface, inviting the reader to pay special attention to a word that conflicts to its usage within the book. In

134  Pascal F. Zambito Wittgenstein’s system, a thought or a proposition is true if it depicts a fact, an actuality in the logical space of possibilities. The propositions of the Tractatus do not depict such facts. Whereas ordinary thoughts can be true or false, the ‘truth’ of the thoughts that are expressed in the Tractatus is ‘unassailable and definitive’. They are somehow truer than true, forming a ‘superorder of ‘super-concepts’ which Wittgenstein later calls a ‘philosophical superlative’ (PI §§97; 192). Recall Nietzsche’s verdict on a priori beliefs as the ‘falsest opinions’. The ‘unassailable truth’ resembles the ‘falsest opinion’ in that both are not true or false in the ordinary sense; both cannot be expressed in conventional language. One need not agree with Maudemarie Clark and David Dudrick’s whole ‘esoteric’ interpretation to appreciate their emphasis on the subtlety of Nietzsche’s writing: it is ‘in our mouths’ that such necessary statements are false (BGE §11) and only to certain ‘ears’ his insights ‘appear as follies’ (§30). They, like Kant’s synthetic judgements a priori, are not only ‘false’, but ‘the falsest’ because they do not even make sense in the language in which they are articulated. A new language is required to express the thoughts Nietzsche wants to express.40 The remark on truth in the preface is embedded in Wittgenstein’s twofold estimation of the ‘value’ of the Tractatus. First, it expresses ‘thoughts’ (in what sense? not in the sense of ‘logical pictures of facts’) and these thoughts are true (in what sense?). Second, the book’s value lies in r­ evealing its own limits, in showing ‘how little has been done’ when the problems of philosophy are solved. Both tasks are achieved by drawing a limit ‘to the expression of thoughts’. This limit is drawn ‘in language and what is on the other side of this limit (jenseits der Grenze) will be simply nonsense’. The drawing of this limit is not concerned with truth, but with its ­condition, with the possibility of truth which is called ‘sense’. Language has the ­capacity to represent the world truly or falsely because its propositions have sense, they describe possible situations in logical space which can be actual or not. Logic is concerned with the totality of such possibilities. The totality of possibilities itself is not a further possibility among them. In a sense it is a necessity, like a cube, a die, necessarily, that is, by definition, has six sides each of which is a possibility when the dice fall. At least, as long as we exclude other types of dice, or even other games (cf. TL 1999, 147; KSA 1.882). In the language of each game its rules are necessary and determine the totality of possibilities. From the outside, however, the game appears as one game among others, as one possibility among other possibilities. Yet from the inside this relativism is absurd. From the inside every totality of possibilities claims to be the only one. It says, as it were, ‘I am logic and nothing else is logic’. In this sense, the truth of the Tractatus is unassailable. Yet it aims to make its readers ‘see the world rightly’ – which implies the possibility to see it falsely, implies the possibility of other perspectives. At least allowing this possibility,

‘jenseits der Grenze’  135 Wittgenstein advances his propositions, meine Sätze (6.54),41 like ­Nietzsche advances his thesis, mein Satz. Nietzsche is prepared to push his thesis ‘bis zum Unsinn’ (BGE/KSA5 §36) and Wittgenstein even expects the reader who understands him to finally recognise his propositions as ‘unsinnig’, as nonsense. While they do not use Unsinn in exactly the same sense, both thinkers’ readiness to apply such a negative word to their own writing ­reveals an awareness – in different degrees – of the impossibility to describe a new game without a meta-language that would allow speaking about games outside any particular game.42 In order to present his view of the world, Wittgenstein introduces a signlanguage. He does so at times explicitly (TLP 3.324, 4.1121), sometimes implicitly by introducing new terminology and symbols.43 He knows that the principles of this notation cannot be expressed by means of the notation itself. The principles and motives to use this notation rather than others remain and should remain unexpressed;44 they only show themselves in the possibilities that the notation allows. Sign-languages and notations remain important for Wittgenstein after the Tractatus. In 1930, he complains about Ramsey who did not understand that in a notation ‘the whole way of seeing an object is expressed, the angle from which I am now looking at things. The notation is the last expression of a philosophical view’ (MS 105, 10–11). The Tractatus is such a notation. A notation determines possibilities of expression. It is thus not concerned with the actuality (truth) of these possibilities, but with their condition. For the philosophical concern with the conditions of possibility, Kant coined the term ‘transcendental’. Wittgenstein holds that logic is ‘not a body of doctrine, but a mirror-image of the world. Logic is transcendental’ (TLP 6.13).45 Yet precisely for this reason it is also ineffable. Like Nietzsche, Wittgenstein appreciates Kant’s method, but considers it naive to advance transcendental philosophy as ‘true’ propositions. Propositions can only be true if they are possible; hence the conditions of this possibility cannot themselves be true. Only what is possible can be expressed in language. And what cannot be expressed, cannot be said either. In the 6.4s, these threads are intertwined with the idea that one’s stance towards the world as a whole, which is codified into the possibilities of one’s language, is the place of the ethical – and not something that happens in the world, not something that can be expressed in language. After the preface, the word ‘value’ recurs for the first time in 6.4 ‘All propositions are of equal value’ (gleichwertig). The whole ‘sub-chapter’ 6.4 repeats the idea, expressed in 5.6, that language and world are coordinated, or even identical, by sharing the totality of possibilities in logical space. The argument is based on the logical holism that marks the Tractatus from its first propositions. Propositions (like facts) are treated from the perspective of totality; as possibilities, which together make up the whole, they all have

136  Pascal F. Zambito equal value.46 A higher value can only be found ‘outside’ the world. Because all propositions describe contingent situations in the world, there are no propositions that concern higher value, no ethical propositions (6.42). The will cannot change anything in the world, ‘not the facts; not the things that can be expressed in language’. It can only change the limits of the world; it affects the perspective as a whole (6.43). The mystical, prominent in the ending of the Tractatus, is that the world is, not how it is (6.44).47 It is ‘to see the world as a limited whole’ (6.45). At least two sub-remarks deserve closer inspection: 6.41 contains the reflection on value that motivated my focus on the Tractatus. It is one of the most elegant, but also most obscure passages of the book. Wittgenstein’s repetition and variation of the basic theme ‘The sense of the world must lie outside the world’ almost borders to poetry.48 However, he also repeats and varies themes of the preceding. The book has said much about the ‘sense of a proposition’, but the ‘sense of the world’ is new and by no means a mere application of the previous definitions. The sense of propositions accounts only for what can happen and be the case in the world, as Wittgenstein metaphorically says – metaphorically because there is no outside to this inside. Yet, having transcended the framework with the expression ‘sense of the world’, he now starts speaking of such an outside, if only via negativa. This outside is non-accidental, nicht-zufällig. Taking up and affirming the absence of Zufall in logic, postulated in the beginning of the Tractatus (TLP 2.012), Wittgenstein sees the contingency of all events in the world as the reason for their lack of value. Nietzsche makes similar claims when he contrasts events in the world with value; he condemns ‘the frightful rule of folly and chance which has hitherto gone by the name of “history” … the extraordinary fortuitousness which has hitherto played its game in respect to the future of mankind’ (BGE §203). What is ‘non-accidental’ is the proper field of philosophy, the ‘outside’ of Wittgenstein’s logical space with its specific necessity. Again like the dice necessarily have six sides, and when they fall, the result is Zufall, chance, contingency. Yet the construction of a six-sided die is outside, beyond, the game of dice. Let us consider another expression. Wittgenstein argues that if there was value in the world ‘it would be of no value’ and repeats this odd wording in the next sentence: ‘If there is a value that has value, it must be outside all happening and being-so’ (TLP 6.41). It is an unusual reasoning which Wittgenstein shares with Nietzsche: both ask for the ‘value of values’. Wittgenstein too uses value in the different senses of measure and measured. The value that is measured is the totality, the whole way of looking at things. But how shall it itself be measured? How are we to decide if it has value? This question, Wittgenstein sees, has no sense. We lack a standard when we deliberately go beyond the standard and try seeing it from the outside. There are no ethical propositions.49

‘jenseits der Grenze’  137 From the outside one would see the world as a limited whole – the mystical that eludes any attempt of expression. The repetition of the word ‘transcendental’ indicates the similar status of logic and ethics (6.421).50 Both concern the totality of possibilities, a holistic perspective of the world. The propositions of the Tractatus are nonsensical (6.54) because they do not stand in picturing relations to facts in the world, but constitute the world as a whole. These propositions are ‘my propositions’, the propositions of a subject that takes a particular attitude to, and in a certain sense is, ‘my world’ (5.63).51 It is tempting to put it in Nietzschean terms: the logical system of the Tractatus, presented with a lucidity comparable to Spinoza’s, is in fact a ‘confession of its originator’ who codifies his morality into a sign-language. No single proposition is ethical, but the design of the whole and the attitude it reveals. The subject, however, which created the world in its image, the ‘subject of the ethical’, is ineffable (6.423; also 5.631). In 1916, Wittgenstein writes in a notebook ‘good and evil do not exist’ (MS 103, 18r). At first glance this resembles an immoral position beyond good and evil. However, the non-existence is as little pejorative as the verdict of non-sense in TLP 6.54. Quite the contrary, a ‘value that has value’ must precisely be nonsense and non-existence. For things that ‘exist’ are in the world, whereas good and evil willing is not in the world. It concerns the world as a whole which, depending on the ethical will, ‘must so to speak wax or wane as a whole. The world of the happy is quite another than that of the unhappy’ (6.43). While there are similarities to both, it is hard to decide whether Wittgenstein’s statements on the will are closer to Schopenhauer or to Nietzsche.52 Nietzsche’s will seems to be directed at ordinary domination and rule, at the execution of power in the world.53 But there is more than that: it takes the will to ‘create values’ in the transcendental sense that I have sketched. If values concern holistic systems of possibilities, like the logic of the Tractatus, then the Will to Power might be understood as a will to create new possibilities, to create new possibilities of seeing the world as a whole – and according new possibilities of action.54 In one of his statements on philosophy, Nietzsche complains about his time ‘which would like to confine every one in a corner, in a “specialty,”’, a mark of ‘weakness of the will’. He requires philosophers to oppose these tendencies by fostering ‘strength of will’ and by placing ‘the greatness of man, the conception of “greatness”, precisely in his comprehensiveness and multifariousness, in his all-roundness’ (BGE §212). Obviously, Nietzsche very often uses ‘Will to Power’ in a more worldly sense, but whenever he considers the creation or transvaluation of values (§§211, 213), which seems to be his ultimate aim, his will comes to resemble Wittgenstein’s ethical will. ‘Whatever has value in our world now does not have value in itself, according to its nature – nature is always value-less, but has been given value at some time,

138  Pascal F. Zambito as a present – and it was we who gave and bestowed it. Only we have created the world that concerns man!’ (GS §301). Besides the difference that ‘will’ frequently has a more worldly character in Nietzsche, the most striking disagreement between the two is that Wittgenstein does not reject the Christian value ‘good and evil’. After his reading of Nietzsche in 1914, he is impressed by the hostility to Christianity and admits ‘there is also some truth in his writings’. Convinced that ‘Christianity is the only secure way to happiness’, he considers Nietzsche’s position: ‘But what if someone spurned this happiness? Could it not be better to perish, unhappily, in a hopeless struggle with the outer world? Such a life is senseless. But why not live a senseless life?’ (MS 102, 39v-40v). This is an instance of the sense (meaning) of life as opposed to the sense of a proposition. Taking world and life as one and the same (TLP 5.621), we are here on the level of the ‘sense of the world’, that is, on the level of the ‘value of values’ where we no longer have standards of meaningful measuring. The waxing and waning of the world as a result of the ethical will is specified in the 1916 notebook ‘As if by accession or loss of a sense’ (MS 103, 12r). While his considerations are on the same level as Nietzsche’s transvaluations of one’s attitude to the world, Wittgenstein does not join him in rejecting Christian morality. He associates the good will with sense per se and the evil will with the absence of sense. While for Nietzsche ‘good and evil’ is one way to look at the world among other moralities (at least ‘good and bad’ is an alternative), Wittgenstein, at least in his first book, considers only good or evil as the two possible moral attitudes (perhaps with degrees between them). Unlike Nietzsche, he seems to be more attached to moral absolutism (see also his Lecture on Ethics, LE) and thereby resembles Schopenhauer’s holding on to Christian values, which Nietzsche later attacked vigorously, despite his basically atheist metaphysics. Happiness may not be an argument for Wittgenstein, but somehow justified in itself, like a tautology (MS 103, 35r). 4 Philosophy at the Limits of Language Let us take stock. Despite the difference in how they value different possibilities to look at the world, Nietzsche and Wittgenstein agree on a number of basic assumptions. Both share the idea that seemingly objective philosophical systems are based on personal preferences and questions of morality. Only as such they have value, not in virtue of their objective truth. Wittgenstein shows what Nietzsche calls ‘the good taste of courage’ by admitting this personal involvement and by signaling to the reader the limits of his language. This leads to the second similarity: Both see the problem to express thoughts that concern the conditions of sense if the

‘jenseits der Grenze’  139 only thoughts that can be expressed are those that have sense. Thirdly, however, both agree that it is precisely this level where the work of philosophy begins. What Nietzsche only occasionally admits, the Tractatus makes very clear: philosophy is nonsense. By drawing the limit of sense it goes beyond this limit. By exploring the limits and conditions of language and morality, both Nietzsche and Wittgenstein run up against the limits of language. The Tractatus has value because it discusses the world as a whole. It advances a perspective that can only be communicated in a performative, literary manner or exemplary manner where not every word makes sense in the conventional way. Both thinkers’ views of language feature a certain tension between the common use of language which has sense, but no value – and a philosophical (poetic) use of language which has no sense, but which alone can touch the question of value.55 In this sense, the Tractatus is an attempted Umwertung, introducing a new language with new values and thus resembling Nietzsche’s attempts of a transvaluation of values. If this is somewhat plausible for the Tractatus, there remains the question whether Wittgenstein kept this view in his later work. Liam Hughes holds the later Wittgenstein to locate the sense of the world within it which would amount to a major difference to his earlier position.56 There are indeed no traces of an outside of the world in the Investigations or other late writings. Nevertheless, I claim that the basic movement of thought has not changed. It depends on how one understands ‘world’. It is possible to understand it as the structure or perspective through which we conceive situations. It is holistic only in the sense that a perspective determines everything that you see, but not in the sense of an absolute totality which at least resonated with the Tractatus. Revisiting his early philosophy, Wittgenstein leaves behind this absolutism and allows for a plurality of language-games, but he keeps the idea that language cannot go beyond itself. While he now speaks of many systems, many worlds, as it were – ‘A system is so to speak a world’ (MS 105, 30) – he still sees that every such system has its language and cannot transcend it. A new movement of thought creates a new world. His remarks about his own philosophy testify to the aim of nevertheless trying to transcend conceptual systems by presenting alternative views (philosophy as poetry) or by showing how the current system and its seeming necessities are merely contingent products of our forms of life (resembling Nietzsche’s genealogical method).57 In line with his efforts to change his students’ style of thinking and to teach new movements of thought, he wants to show his readers alternative ways of conceiving situations, to show them new languages, new notations (MS 113, 27r). Apart from the reference to Nietzsche in 1938, he seldom uses the terminology of value in his late work, but he still thinks about these matters in a similar way.

140  Pascal F. Zambito The seriousness of his late philosophy, which at first glance seems to concern only minor grammatical confusions, may count as evidence for this reading. Changing one’s perspective can be considered an ethical question. And it can be hard, like changing one’s habits; it can, in Nietzsche’s words, have ‘the heart against it’. In 1931, Wittgenstein writes ‘philosophy requires a resignation of feelings, not of the intellect. It can be difficult not to use an expression, like it can be difficult to withhold your tears, or an outburst of anger’ (MS 110, 189). And in 1938, he remarks, with a reference to Schopenhauer ‘If you find yourself stumped trying to convince someone of something & not being able to get anywhere, tell yourself that it’s the will & not the intellect you’re up against’ (MS 158, 34v). The shifts of perspective that Wittgenstein aspires to can be painful like Nietzsche’s transvaluations. While this is obvious in the case of Nietzsche’s concern with will and morality, Wittgenstein emphasises the less obvious connection – present but less prominent in Nietzsche – of will, value and language. Several times, he compares the problem of the will with his major problem of understanding a language (MS 107, 152 and 231; PI §174). Willing does not guarantee a successful (or good) action, nor does understanding make a proposition true – but both concern the conditions of possible actions and propositions and hence the perspective that one takes towards a situation as a whole. It is in this sense that Wittgenstein’s aim can be said to be a change of how one looks at things, a change of one’s ‘world’ on the level where philosophy works and where value resides. In this sense the aim of his late philosophy can be called Umwertung. While the Tractatus resembles Nietzsche’s ‘prophetic’ side which claims to proclaim the truth and the right morality, the late Wittgenstein can be compared to Nietzsche’s ‘critical’ side which stresses plurality.58 Let us go back to the remark from 1930 which takes up the Tractatus idea ‘what cannot be expressed, cannot be said either’ and connects it to the idea of movements of thought. A few lines before, we find another prominent occurrence of ‘value’ in Wittgenstein’s oeuvre: ‘The results of philosophy are the discovery of some piece of plain nonsense and the bumps that the understanding has got by running up against the limits of language. They – these bumps – make us understand the value of that ­discovery’ (MS 108, 247). This remark from 1930 got transferred to the Investigations almost without change (PI §119). The connection of ­nonsense to value thus appears as a constant in his philosophy. The limit that Wittgenstein drew in the Tractatus and that he keeps on drawing, ­although he changes from unity to plurality, is beyond true and false, like it is beyond good and evil. It is the limit between what can be expressed and what cannot be expressed. It is a notation, a perspective, an act of ­linguistic legislation. It determines sense and is itself nonsense, elaborating on the difference between possibilities and the setting of these possibilities

‘jenseits der Grenze’  141 which concerns the level of will and value. Although Wittgenstein and Nietzsche did not always make the same valuations, it seems plausible they were talking about the same thing. Notes 1 There are traces of the idea in Nietzsche’s notes earlier than Beyond Good and Evil (Brobjer 2010, 14), but these do not concern me here, as I focus primarily on Wittgenstein’s use of the expression who surely did not study the genesis of Nietzschean concepts. As with most of his ‘influences’ he took up an idea where he found it – possibly published Nietzsche volumes, but the expression was so widespread in cultural discourse that its mention cannot prove familiarity with any particular work – and used it for his own purposes. 2 Prominent instances appear in the preface of Twilight of the Idols and in the last words of The Antichrist. ‘Umwerthung aller Werte’ was also the title of a planned book project which remained incomplete due to Nietzsche’s mental collapse (Brobjer 2010, 20–23). 3 The ‘utopian’ interpretation is similar to the ‘critical’ one: the latter emphasises the critique of current values, the former the call for, or creation of, new values; both remain vague about what the new values are. For this reason, Thomas Brobjer prefers the ‘dichotomy’ interpretation which takes the new values to be in fact old, namely the noble values of the ancients before the Christian revaluation. It is supported by Nietzsche’s positive references to Antiquity and especially the Renaissance as a return to old values (GM, I, §16; Brobjer 1996, 2010, 25). In BGE, however, there remains Nietzsche’s emphasis on novelty, experiment and openness to vindicate utopian readings. 4 See Brusotti 2009, 344. 5 Ray Monk highlights the decisive change that this event brought about, especially for Wittgenstein and his family: ‘it marked the difference between being an Austrian citizen and a German Jew’ (Monk 1990, 391). It does not seem far-fetched to call this a ‘revaluation’ if one considers how formerly respected citizens like the Wittgensteins or Sigmund Freud were now discriminated and threatened by an ideology which exploited Nietzschean thought. 6 See especially Conant 2011 and Pichler 2013 for accounts of Wittgenstein’s developments after autumn 1936. 7 Venturinha 2018, 167 and Schulte 2013, 349. 8 One may argue that the idea ‘to bring words back from their metaphysical to their everyday use’ (PI §116; in 1937, Wittgenstein changed an earlier version from ‘correct use’ to ‘everyday’) implies a dichotomy between everyday and metaphysical, analogous to the dichotomy between ancient and Christian. The shift of perspective would indeed be a re-valuation in Brobjer’s sense. It could be supported by Nietzsche’s call for etymological studies of moral concepts which connects linguistic and moral re-valuations (GM I, §17). I leave this question to future work. 9 See Conant 2011. 10 Schulte 2013, 351. 11 Before his lecture on Knowledge in Easter Term 1938, he had not taught for five terms (WCL, x). 12 The word ‘grammatical movement’ occurs, for instance, in PI §401, first drafted in December 1937 (MS 120, 46v).

142  Pascal F. Zambito 13 In a letter to G.E. Moore, Wittgenstein states that his first meeting will take place on 25 April 1938 (WCL, 3). 14 Wittgenstein often regards a situational contrast more important than terminological consistency. Elsewhere, he draws a distinction between ‘Gedankenbewegung and ‘Stil’, between thinking and writing (MS 183, 100–101). Not much later in the same notebook he compares a new movement of thought to a painter’s change of style (Richtung) (141; cf. ‘Malweise’ in PI §401) – he seems to use the word ‘style’ in a broader sense only in his English lectures. See also Philip Mills’ essay in this volume. 15 Besides Brusotti 2009, Schulte 2013 and Venturinha 2018, see Oskari Kuusela’s and Philip Mills’ essays in this volume. 16 Schulte 2013, 350. 17 See CC, Wittgenstein’s letter from October 1919 to the publisher Ludwig Ficker. To get an idea of this ethical sense of the book, he recommends to read the preface and the end – I take this to include the 6.4s. 18 See MS 109, 189, 199 and 291. Freud’s ideas and grammatical moves in the context of his theory of dreams are also discussed in the second lecture in 1938 – another connection between the early and the late 30s (WCL, 8). 19 It is less well known that Wittgenstein qualifies his remark ‘I have never invented a movement of thought’ (MS 154, 15) a few pages later, saying that he did create new movements at the time of writing the Tractatus, whereas now, in 1932, he was only applying old ones (MS 154, 19). 20 See MS 130, 184; MS 131, 122; MS 133, 47; MS 136, 31a; MS 137, 47b. The remark on learning is in MS 137, 89b. 21 See MS 183, 100; MS 109, 207. The scientific methods that he does appreciate (Hertz’s geometrisation of mechanics, Boltzmann’s models, Einstein’s metrology) are exempt here; he was not against science, but against scientism. 22 See MS 183, 14. 23 ‘Die Denkbewegung in meinem Philosophieren müßte sich in der Geschichte meines Geistes, seiner Moralbegriffe & dem Verständnis meiner Lage wiederfinden lassen’ (MS 183, 125). 24 Based on a remark from 1930 (MS 110, 61), Brusotti connects Wittgenstein’s ‘movement of thought’ with Kant’s ‘intellectual revolution’ (2009, 347) – the connection is plausible but must not be pushed too far, as Brusotti admits. 25 See again Brusotti 2009, 347, but also Penco 2010 and Kusch 2011 for more detailed discussions. 26 In Wittgenstein’s own view, his similarity to Einstein and Kant consists precisely in this awareness of the limits of representation (MS 108, 271 and MS 110, 61; cf. Brusotti 2009, 347–348). 27 McGuinness 1988, 36. 28 See Pilch 2019, 102–109. 29 McGuinness 1988, 225. In this volume, the reprinted articles by Majetschak and Venturinha follow this assumption. 30 See Brusotti 2009, 361; the 1905 pocket edition has been published by Kröner (JGB). 31 Clark and Dudrick 2012, 2; similar Horstmann 2001, vii, and Sommer 2016, 28. 32 A similar connection is made in the 1873 essay On Truth and Lie in an ExtraMoral Sense. I prefer the translation of ‘außermoralisch’ as ‘extra-moral’ rather than ‘non-moral’ because, like ‘beyond good and evil’, it claims a non-committed perspective on morality ‘from the outside’ and not necessarily its negation.

‘jenseits der Grenze’  143 Apparently once good and evil are challenged, true and false are challenged too – as indicated by the unusual opposition of truth and lie. 33 Friedrich Waismann uses this passage almost literally, but without quotation marks, in Sprache, Logik, Philosophie. The book had started as a collaboration with Wittgenstein in the early 1930s, but was completed much later by Waismann alone. It should summarise Wittgenstein’s key ideas and integrate them into the programme of the Vienna Circle. In this context, Waismann seems to agree with Nietzsche’s diagnosis of the failures of traditional philosophy and suggests the new philosophy of language as a means to overcome them (see Brusotti 2009, 352). 34 Wittgenstein’s idea of philosophical dichten is not restricted to lyric poetry (see Janik 2018, 144; Klagge 2021, 84). 35 Occasionally, Wittgenstein speaks of the ‘herd’ and its language too. Philosophy is only possible for those who resist the grammatical confusions of the common ‘herd’-language (MS 113, 23v; see Majetschak’s contribution to this volume). 36 It is only almost Wittgensteinian because the ‘unity’ that is questioned is replaced not by a network of ‘family-resemblances’ (PI §§66–67), but by a composite phenomenon which still seems to have an essence for Nietzsche. 37 Endres 2013, 233. In this context, it is another striking coincidence that both Nietzsche and Wittgenstein call the theoretical quest for truth a ‘refinement’ (Verfeinerung) of a primitive level of practical life which is itself neither true nor false, but beyond (or prior to) this opposition (BGE §24; cf. MS 119, 147) 38 See Sommer 2016, 272–277; WP, 1067; in an early German edition of WP, the passage marked the end of the volume: ‘Diese Welt ist der Wille zur Macht – und nichts außerdem! Und auch ihr selber seid dieser Wille zur Macht – und nichts außerdem!’ (Nietzsche 1921, 696) – ‘This world is the Will to Power – and nothing else! And you too are this Will to Power yourselves – and nothing else!’. The published version in BGE is much more tentative, starting with ‘Supposing’ and largely put in the subjunctive mood. 39 Nietzsche frequently refers to the Fall (e.g. BGE §202) which is not surprising given his general concern with the origins of Jewish-Christian morality. His ideal of a ‘second innocence’ is discussed in P.K. Westergaard’s essay in this volume. The Genealogy of Morality is one of the Philosophical Myths of the Fall that Stephen Mulhall presents (2005). He also explores Heidegger and the late Wittgenstein, but not the Tractatus. 40 Clark and Dudrick 2012, 83. They link BGE §11 to §4 where Nietzsche explicitly speaks of his ‘new language’. 41 The possessive pronoun corresponds to that in TLP 5.6 (‘my world’). 42 Wittgenstein’s later method of language-games solves the problem of universality, which permeates the Tractatus, by presenting every language-game as one among others. But he holds on to his view that one cannot transcend a game. Therefore he tries to change the reader’s perspective by presenting examples and alternative views rather than conventional arguments that would require an objective standpoint outside any system. 43 See Kuusela 2019, 13. 44 Wittgenstein claims to express the ethical by remaining silent about it (see CC, letter to Ficker, October 1919). For Nietzsche, it is one feature of the philosophical sign-language that much may remain unexpressed in it (BGE §196). 45 While I mostly follow, Ramsey and Ogden’s authorised translation, here Pears and McGuinness’s translation is better because it keeps the Schopenhauerian/ Nietzschean language of ‘mirroring’.

144  Pascal F. Zambito 46 In this sense, they come to resemble the valueless ‘value of a variable’ as Quirin Oberrauch has pointed out to me. 47 The language of how and that has a Schopenhauerian ring just like the coordination of subject (will) and world. I am inclined to think that Schopenhauer, Nietzsche and early Wittgenstein share a similar view of ethics as far as its transcendental function is concerned. Nietzsche’s later attacks on Schopenhauer do not nullify his theoretical metaphysics, but inverse his valuation: instead of negation, Nietzsche calls for affirmation of the will. 48 See Perloff 2019, 22. 49 This implies that for Wittgenstein, as for Nietzsche, ethics is not a science (see Hughes 2000, 85). 50 I cannot address the question why ‘ethics and aesthetics are One’ here, but a Nietzschean approach seems again promising. Both thinkers’ literary attempts to change their readers’ perspective might be a fruitful trace. 51 The connection between 5.6 and 6.4 goes beyond the scope of this paper (on solipsism see Venturinha’s chapter in this volume). I only want to highlight a performative movement of linguistic self-overcoming, similar to the one that Endres reconstructs for BGE §24. Having stated that ‘we cannot say in logic, “The world has this in it, and this, but not that.”’ (TLP 5.61), Wittgenstein writes, only a few lines later, ‘there is no such thing as the subject that thinks and entertains ideas’ (5.631). The subject, with clear allusions to Schopenhauer, does not ‘exist’ in the sense of being in the world, but is its transcendental limit (5.632). 52 Glock also brings in Kant because of the distinction between good and evil willing (1999, 443). 53 Or in the soul of the subject: Nietzsche’s idea of ‘subjective multiplicity’ (BGE §12) as an arena of competing drives is a point of disagreement with Wittgenstein for whom a ‘composite soul would not be a soul any longer’ (TLP 5.5421). 54 At the end of the first essay of GM, Nietzsche calls for ‘etymological’ studies of moral concepts. While he probably thinks of traces like the connection from ‘schlecht’ (bad) to ‘schlicht’ (simple, plain), we can apply the method to his own thesis: the German ‘Macht’ comes from the Middle High German verb ‘mugen’ from which also ‘möglich’ (possible) is derived. The same connection of possibility and power is visible in the English word ‘might’. 55 Maria Alvarez and Aaron Ridley, who are otherwise very critical of comparisons between Nietzsche and Wittgenstein, admit and elaborate this similarity with regards to PI §531-352 (Alvarez and Ridley 2005, 13–15). 56 Hughes 2000, 87–88. 57 In his very last writings on certainty, Wittgenstein speaks of forms of life as ‘beyond justified and unjustified’ – one of the few instances of the word ‘jenseits’ in his oeuvre: ‘jenseits von berechtigt und unberechtigt’ (MS 175, 56r). 58 Peter von Zima distinguishes a prophetic and a critical, more dialogical, side of Nietzsche (2012, 111–117).

References Alvarez, M. and Ridley, A. (2005). ‘Nietzsche on Language: Before and After Wittgenstein’, Philosophical Topics 33 (2), 1–17. Brobjer, T. (1996). ‘On the Revaluation of Values’, Nietzsche-Studien 25, 342–348.

‘jenseits der Grenze’  145 ———. (2010). ‘The Origin and Early Context of the Revaluation Theme in Nietzsche’s Thinking’, Journal of Nietzsche Studies 39, 12–29. Brusotti, M. (2009). ‘Wittgensteins Nietzsche. Mit vergleichenden Betrachtungen zur Nietzsche Rezeption im Wiener Kreis’, Nietzsche-Studien 38, 335–362. Clark, M. and Dudrick, D. (2012). The Soul of Nietzsche’s Beyond Good and Evil, CUP. Conant, J. (2011). ‘Wittgenstein’s Methods’, in, The Oxford Handbook of Wittgenstein, eds. M. McGinn and O. Kuusela, OUP, 620–646. Endres, M. (2013). ‘“Nicht als sein Gegensatz, sondern – als seine Verfeinerung!” Nietzsches “subtiles” Schreiben in Jenseits von Gut und Böse’, in Texturen des Denkens. Nietzsches Inszenierung von Philosophie in Jenseits von Gut und Böse, eds. M. A. Born and A. Pichler, de Gruyter, 231–242. Glock, H.-J. (1999). “Schopenhauer and Wittgenstein. Language as Representation and Will”, in The Cambridge Companion to Schopenhauer, ed. C. Janaway, Cambridge University Press, 422–458. Horstmann, R.-P. (2001). ‘Introduction’, in BGE 2001, vii–xxviii. Hughes, L. (2001). “Wenn es einen Wert gibt, der Wert hat, so muß er außerhalb alles Geschehens und So-Seins gelten”, in Der Denker als Seiltänzer. Ludwig Wittgenstein über Religion, Mystik und Ethik, eds. U. Arnswald and A. Weiberg, Parerga, 71–88. Janik, A. (2018). ‘The Dichtung of Analytic Philosophy: Wittgenstein’s Legacy from Frege and Its Consequences’, in New Essays on Frege, ed by G. Bengtsson, S. Säätelä and A. Pichler, Springer, 143–157. Klagge, J. C. (2021). Wittgenstein’s Artillery. Philosophy as Poetry. MIT Press. Kusch, M. (2011). ‘Wittgenstein and Einstein’s Clocks.’, in Unsocial Sociabilities: Wittgenstein’s Sources, ed. E. Ramharter, Parerga, 203–218. Kuusela, O. (2019). ‘On Wittgenstein’s and Carnap’s Conceptions of the Dissolution of Philosophical Problems, and against a Therapeutic Mix: How to Solve the Paradox of the Tractatus’, Philosophical Investigations 42 (3), 213–240. Majetschak, S. (2006). ‘Philosophie als Arbeit an sich selbst. Wittgenstein, Nietzsche und Paul Ernst’, in Wittgensteins 'grosse Maschinenschrift': Untersuchungen zum philosophischen Ort des Big Typescripts (TS 213) im Werk Ludwig Wittgensteins, ed. S. Majetschak, Peter Lang, 61–78. McGuinness, B. (1988). Wittgenstein: A Life, Duckworth. Monk, R. (1990). Ludwig Wittgenstein: The Duty of Genius. The Free Press (Macmillan). Mulhall, S. (2005). Philosophical Myths of the Fall, Princeton University Press. Penco, C. (2010). ‘The Influence of Einstein on Wittgenstein’s Philosophy’, Philosophical Investigations 33 (4), 360–379. Perloff, M. (2019). ‘The Poetics of the Tractatus’, in Ludwig Wittgenstein: Die Tractatus Odyssee, ed. R. Schweitzer, Wittgenstein Initiative, 21–27. Pichler, A. (2013). ‘The Philosophical Investigations and Syncretistic Writing’, in The Textual Genesis of Wittgenstein’s Philosophical Investigations, ed. N. Venturinha, Routledge, 65–80. Pilch, M. (2019). ‘1914–1918. Die Entstehung des Tractatus im Ersten Weltkrieg – Nachträge zur Biographie’, in Ludwig Wittgenstein: Die Tractatus Odyssee, ed. R. Schweitzer, Wittgenstein Initiative, 75–116.

146  Pascal F. Zambito Schulte, J. (2013). ‘Wittgenstein on Philosophy as Poetry’, in Morphology: Questions on Method and Language, eds. M. Molder, D. Soica and N. Fonseca, Peter Lang, 347–369. Sommer, A. U. (2016). Kommentar zu Nietzsches Jenseits von Gut und Böse, De Gruyter. Venturinha, N. (2018). ‘Agrammaticality’, in New Essays on Frege. Between Science and Literature, eds. G. Bengtsson, S. Säätelä and A. Pichler, Springer, 159–173. von Zima, P. (2012). Essay, Essayismus: Zum theoretischen Potential des Essays: von Montaigne bis zur Postmoderne, Königshausen & Neumann.

6 Wittgenstein, Nietzsche, and Future Philosophers The Notion of Truth in Philosophy Oskari Kuusela Wittgenstein compares his attempt to teach a ‘new movement of thought’ with Nietzsche’s reevaluation of values, and connects his conception that philosophy should be written as poetry with Nietzsche’s approach to philosophy. This chapter develops an interpretation of Wittgenstein’s remarks in light of his rejection of philosophical or metaphysical theses in the sense of true/false propositions regarding universal/exceptionless essential ­necessities. Whilst philosophical accounts can on Wittgenstein’s view be true, truth in philosophy, as in poetry, isn’t to be understood in terms of the truth of propositions, regardless of whether the truths in question are contingent or necessary. I suggest that Wittgenstein’s conception of truth in philosophy can help to understand what Nietzsche may have had in mind by questioning the value of truth and by proposing a revaluation of ­philosophers’ will to truth. On this account Wittgenstein emerges as one of the non-dogmatic future philosophers, whose arrival Nietzsche predicts. I conclude by outlining how Nietzsche’s On the Genealogy of Morals can be seen, not as a poorly justified piece of empirical history, but as an instance of philosophical poetry in Wittgenstein’s sense. On this ­ ­interpretation, Nietzsche articulates an account of morality by proposing a novel picture (a mode of representing or envisaging) its genealogy. By putting forward this possibility he is able to question widely held ­ ­assumptions about the systematicity of morality, whilst the justification and truth of Nietzsche’s alternative account is judged on the basis of its clarificatory capacity in accordance with how Wittgenstein conceives of the justification and truth of philosophical accounts. Nietzsche’s approach in Genealogy can also be usefully compared with Wittgensteinian natural history, understood as a special case of philosophical methodology. 1 Philosophy, Truth and Philosophical Theses There are few things that philosophers agree about and haven’t questioned. This isn’t surprising, given how the critical examination of extant views is DOI: 10.4324/9781003219071-8

148  Oskari Kuusela an essential part of philosophy. This constant critical attitude can be connected with philosophy’s commitment to truth. Critical examination is important, because it helps to avoid untruth. Significantly, however, this commitment to truth itself, what it means and involves, hasn’t been similarly subjected to critical examination. One of the few critical examiners of this commitment, or the will of philosophers to truth, is Nietzsche who maintained that not even this matter is beyond revaluation (BGE 2001, §§1–5; GM 2006, III, §24). Here a disputed question arises: whether and in what sense Nietzsche’s critical examination of the commitment or will of philosophers to truth amounts to a rejection of the notion of truth, ­either generally or in philosophy specifically.1 In what follows I’ll argue that Nietzsche only rejects the notion of philosophical truth in the specific sense of metaphysical theses about an ideal reality or the real world behind a world of appearances which is similarly criticised and rejected by ­Wittgenstein in his later philosophy. Arguably, Wittgenstein’s account of truth in philosophy can help to understand what Nietzsche might have had in mind. This, at least, is suggested by how the proposed interpretation helps to solve certain problems that otherwise arise for Nietzsche or the interpretation of his philosophy. (For example, if there’s no truth, how is the project of revaluating the value of truth itself possible?) Accordingly, I propose that Wittgenstein can be envisaged as one of the future ­philosophers whose arrival Nietzsche predicts, characteristic of whom is that they are not afraid of ‘dangerous perhapses’ and that their approach can avoid ‘the prejudices by which metaphysicians of all ages can be ­recognized’ (BGE, §2). Another almost never questioned assumption is that the proper way to articulate philosophical truths are philosophical or metaphysical theses, understood as true/false propositions concerning universal/exceptionless necessities or the essential characteristics of philosophy’s objects of investigation. This assumption, which isn’t the same as the first one albeit connected, was questioned by Wittgenstein. Similarly to the difficulties of interpreting Nietzsche, Wittgenstein’s readers have struggled to make sense of his critique of philosophical theses. It has been confused with the rejection of philosophical views, as if theses were the only way to articulate philosophical views.2 Notably, the latter kinds of interpretations of Wittgenstein give rise to similar problems that have occupied the readers of Nietzsche. If there are no theses, is there such a thing as truth in philosophy? What might truth mean in philosophy, if it’s something distinct from the truth of empirical claims and metaphysical theses? As I will explain, Wittgenstein has an answer to these questions, and it seems helpful to read Nietzsche in a similar way. However, this way of interpreting Nietzsche is possible only insofar as he doesn’t reject the possibility of philosophical truth altogether. We must therefore start with this issue.3

Wittgenstein, Nietzsche, and Future Philosophers  149 Nietzsche writes about truth and philosophy: Suppose that truth is a woman – and why not? Aren’t there reasons for suspecting that all philosophers, to the extent that they have been dogmatists, have not really understood women? That the grotesque seriousness of their approach towards the truth and the clumsy advances they have made so far are unsuitable ways of pressing their suit with a woman? (BGE, Preface) Evidently, this isn’t to deny the possibility of truth, but to express doubt that philosophers as dogmatists can reach it. Perhaps there are better suitors for truth, such as the future philosophers that Nietzsche predicts. He comments further: And perhaps the time is very near when we will realize again and again just what actually served as the cornerstone of those sublime and unconditional philosophical edifices that the dogmatists used to build – some piece of folk superstition from time immemorial (like the soul-superstition that still causes trouble as the superstition of the subject or I), some word-play perhaps, a seduction of grammar or an overeager generalization from facts that are really very local, very personal, very human-all-too-human. (BGE, Preface) What has gone wrong according to this isn’t that there’s no such thing as truth in philosophy. It’s rather that, trying to establish metaphysical truths, philosophers have promoted folk superstitions, word plays, grammar, or an overeager generalization into ‘sublime and unconditional philosophical edifices’. Thus, again nothing is implied about the possibility of philosophical truth as such, only whether dogmatic philosophers can reach it. As Nietzsche also writes, dogmatic philosophy is a ‘monstrous and terrifying mask’ such as ‘all great things’ seem to have first worn when wondering about the Earth (BGE, Preface). But how could philosophy qualify as one of the great things, if there were no way for it to eventually realize its greatness? This gives rise to the following question: How can we overcome dogmatic philosophy, and unmask philosophy from this monstrous mode of existence? How should mature philosophy approach things in order to reach the truth? Relatedly, in order for Nietzsche to describe ‘Plato’s invention of pure spirit and the Good in itself’ as an error, and as involving ‘standing truth on its head’ (BGE, Preface), it seems he must assume that it’s possible to say something true in philosophy – at least that Plato’s philosophy constitutes an error. Indeed, even if Nietzsche’s claim about Plato

150  Oskari Kuusela turned out to be erroneous itself, presumably it must be so by some criterion of truth. We can also ask: How could anyone stand truth on its head if there were no truth? As this illustrates, philosophy can’t easily rid itself from the notion of truth. Accordingly, Nietzsche comments on the new arriving breed of philosophers: Are they new friends of ‘truth,’ these upcoming philosophers? Probably, since all philosophers so far have loved their truths. But they certainly will not be dogmatists. It would offend their pride, as well as their taste, if their truth were a truth for everyone (which has been the secret wish and hidden meaning of all dogmatic aspirations so far). (BGE, §43; cf. §42) Nietzsche thus isn’t claiming that the new breed of philosophers will abandon the notion of truth or that their philosophizing won’t be motivated by the will to truth. Accordingly, as he explains in the Genealogy, ‘the value of truth is tentatively to be called into question’ (GM, III, §24), i.e. not conclusively or permanently. The point is only that the future philosophers won’t be dogmatists who claim to establish the truth on behalf of everyone, as if there were no different perspectives or all perspectives could be reduced to the philosophical truth.4 Notably, however, with Wittgenstein we can add the following. That a philosophical truth isn’t ‘a truth for everyone’ needn’t have any relativistic implications. It can be taken to merely indicate the problem-relativity and consequent historicity of philosophical clarifications, i.e. that there are no ‘general purpose clarifications’, but clarifications constitute responses to particular problems in particular ­historical contexts (for Wittgenstein on the historicity of philosophy, see ­Kuusela 2008, chapter 7.2). Because the completeness of such ­clarifications depends on what needs to be said in response to the problems in question, different things might be said when addressing different problems ­pertaining to the very same objects of investigation, but this implies nothing about the relativity or subjectivity of truth (cf. PI §132; for Nietzsche’s ­perspectivism, see Mitchenson 2013, chapter 2). Explained in different terms, the problem with the claim to truth of dogmatic metaphysical philosophers is that: ‘You rob reality of its meaning, value and truthfulness to the extent that you make up an ideal world… The ‘true world’ and the ‘world of appearances’ – in plain language, the made-up world and reality…’ (EH 2005, 71). Interpreting this in Wittgensteinian terms, the characteristic universality/exceptionlessness of philosophical statements isn’t to be explained by postulating an ideal, neat and orderly, non-temporal reality as their target. Although this postulation might seem to explain the characteristic universality of philosophical

Wittgenstein, Nietzsche, and Future Philosophers  151 statements that makes it hard to see how they could be true of the messy, complex and changing empirical world full of exceptions, ultimately this way of construing the function of philosophical statements merely seems to result in the falsification of reality. The idealised accounts of philosophers, put forward as claims about what is really real, can’t do justice to the complexities of reality as we encounter it, thus robbing it of its meaning, value, and truthfulness. As Nietzsche also explains: – the truthful man, in that daring and final sense which faith in science presupposes, thus affirms another world from the one of life, nature and history; and inasmuch as he affirms this “other world”, must he not therefore deny its opposite, this world, our world, in doing so? (GM, III, §24) The truthful man in this remark is the dogmatic metaphysical philosopher who by postulating an ideal world denies the actual world of appearances as the real world. It then remains for Nietzsche and the future philosophers to find a way to philosophize about the actual world without falsifying it and denying its reality in the manner of metaphysical dogmatists. What we want to get to is this: The true world is gone: which world is left? The illusory one, perhaps? … But no! we got rid of the illusory world along with the true one! (Noon; moment of shortest shadow; end of longest error; high point of humanity; incipit Zarathustra). (TI 2005, 171) Nietzsche’s aim, I conclude, is to find his way out of this longest error, rather than to deny that there’s truth at all or truth in philosophy. Let’s turn next to how this way out of metaphysical philosophy can be construed with the help of Wittgenstein who worked it out for himself in responding to the errors of his early philosophy. There he had postulated a neat and regular ideal reality underlying the world of experience, assuming that its essential characteristics could be clarified through logical analysis. Later, however, he came to recognize this postulation as an instance of dogmatic metaphysics, characteristic of which is that the philosopher projects onto reality their mode of representing it, elevating this model of reality into a truth about what is really real. But this involves a failure to recognize what is really going on, i.e. that one has articulated a model of reality which now gets reified and turned into the true reality behind appearances. The influence of Nietzsche on Wittgenstein’s view of the problem with dogmatic metaphysical philosophy can’t be excluded, but it’s difficult to

152  Oskari Kuusela document. Wittgenstein himself only speaks of similarities between their views. Nevertheless, there’s a certain overlap in their terminologies that might indicate influence, with Wittgenstein describing metaphysical accounts as sublimated or as treating their object as something sublime (cf. PI §§38, 89, 94). Like Nietzsche he also identifies dogmatism as the problem with metaphysics, and similarly characterizes dogmatic metaphysics as turning particular observations, examples, and considerations into universal ‘truths’, through which reality is falsified (cf. note 4). Let’s start from how Wittgenstein explains the similarity between his philosophy and Nietzsche’s. 2 Wittgenstein on Nietzsche, Philosophy, and Truth Wittgenstein writes: ‘As I don’t want to teach more correct thinking, but a new movement of thought, my purpose is the “revaluation of values”, and thus I come to Nietzsche, just as through my view that the philosopher should be a poet’ (MS 120, 145r). About philosophy and poetry Wittgenstein writes: ‘I believe I have summed up my attitude towards philosophy by saying: philosophy should really only be written as poetry’ (MS 146, 50).5 Neither remark is self-explanatory. However, given other similar remarks, by a ‘new movement of thought’ we can understand Wittgenstein’s new approach to philosophy developed in his later work.6 This involves the revaluation of the value of truth in the sense that Wittgenstein rejects philosophical theses as the proper way to articulate or express what is true in philosophy. Instead, he proposes to understand the logical function, role or use of philosophical statements in a different way that helps to eliminate the risk of dogmatic falsification. It’s in this sense that Wittgenstein wants to teach a ‘new movement of thought’ rather than ‘more correct thinking’ that merely replaces old theories with better ones (see below and PI §§130–131). How he understands the connection between philosophy and poetry requires clarification in terms of other remarks. Wittgenstein writes about poetry and philosophy: ‘The poet too must always ask himself: “is what I write really true?” – which need not mean: “does it happen like this in reality”’ (MS 124, 29; cf. MS 161, 44v-45r). Given that in the context of both occurrences of this remark Wittgenstein is commenting on his own philosophical approach – ‘You must in any case only say something old – and yet new!’ – the phrase ‘the poet too’ can be understood in the sense of ‘the poet like the philosopher on my [Wittgenstein’s] account’. Again it’s not evident how the distinction between saying something true and saying how things happen in reality ought to be interpreted. However, clarification can be found in Wittgenstein’s remarks that contrast propositions with sentences in poems.

Wittgenstein, Nietzsche, and Future Philosophers  153 The sense of a sentence, the sense of a picture. If we compare a sentence with a picture, we must consider whether we are comparing it with a portrait (a historical representation) or with a genre-picture. And both comparisons make sense. (Sentences in poems correspond to genre-pictures.) (MS 114, 154; cf. PI §522) How is it with sentences that come up in poems. Here we certainly cannot speak of verification, and yet these sentences have sense. They relate to sentences for which there is verification like a genre-picture to a portrait. And this comparison ought to represent the matter completely. […] When I look at a genre-picture I do not take the people there to be real humans, on the other hand their similarity with real humans is essential for understanding the picture. (TS 213, 85–86; cf. TS 212, 281–282, TS 211, 336) Wittgenstein’s distinction between the truth of historical representations, such as portraits, and propositions on the one hand, and the truth of genrepictures or genre-paintings and poems on the other can be explained as follows. Whilst a historical representation or a proposition is true if things are as it represents them as being, this isn’t true of genre-pictures because they don’t represent any actual state of affairs. Accordingly, the truth of a genre-picture doesn’t depend on the obtaining of any such particular state of affairs. For example, a genre-picture that represents a scene from a certain period, such as the Peasant Wedding by Pieter Bruegel the Elder from 1568, couldn’t be regarded as true if some people in it wore contemporary clothes and had mobile phones. But the reason why the picture isn’t true isn’t that no one dressed like that or had a mobile phone at the wedding depicted, because it doesn’t represent any actual wedding. The question, rather, is whether the genre-painting captures something characteristic of such weddings. Is this how people in general behaved, dressed up, and so on in peasant weddings? One might also compare such a picture with reality in some specific respect, for instance, whether this kind of food was usually served in such weddings. Similarly to genre-pictures, philosophical statements don’t normally constitute assertions about particular cases but say something more general. Consequently, their truth doesn’t depend on any particular state of affairs but – roughly – on whether they capture something characteristic of the object of investigation, like a genre-picture.7 I’ll return to this in due course. The preceding can be further clarified with reference to another characterization Wittgenstein gives of his method, although here he compares his clarifications with paintings of landscapes rather than genre-pictures.

154  Oskari Kuusela However, what he says about philosophy, poetry and genre-pictures seems to hold similarly for landscape paintings. Just as a genre-picture, a landscape painting, in the sense relevant for Wittgenstein’s comparison, is meant to capture something characteristic of what it depicts. It’s not meant as an empirically accurate representation of the landscape at any particular moment. Wittgenstein writes about his logical or grammatical clarifications: If we look at the actual use of a word, what we see is something constantly fluctuating. In our investigations we set over against this fluctuation something more fixed, just as one paints a stationary picture of the constantly altering face of the landscape. When we study language we envisage it as a game with fixed rules. We compare it with, and measure it against, a game of that kind. If for our purposes we wish to regulate the use of a word by definite rules, then alongside its fluctuating use we set up a different use by codifying one of its characteristic aspects. (MS 140, 33/PG, 77) The point of Wittgenstein’s clarifications of language therefore isn’t to describe its uses exactly as they are in all their complexity and fluctuation. Instead, such clarifications are meant to capture characteristic aspects of use that are relevant for the particular clarificatory tasks, i.e. for ‘our purposes’. Herein lies the similarity between philosophical clarifications and landscape pictures.8 A landscape might look quite different depending on light and weather. A landscape painting can’t capture all these different faces of a landscape; it’s, literally, a static representation of something dynamic and changing. The same goes for philosophical or logical descriptions of language use. Thus, philosophical clarificatory statements differ from true/false propositions about actual language use. A proposition regarding actual language use is true if it represents its object accurately, similarly to a portrait or a historical painting. Although it’s a complex issue how we judge the similarity between a portrait and a person, a portrait is true/false depending on whether it accurately captures the pictured person. Likewise a historical painting is true if it accurately depicts what happened. With regard to Wittgenstein’s comparison between poetry and genre-pictures we can now say that philosophical clarifications resemble poems and genre-pictures by not being verifiable propositions about actual reality, including actual language use. However, insofar as we can raise the question ‘is what I write really true?’ in both poetry and philosophy, philosophy and poetry can nevertheless be understood as saying something true. To explain this, more needs to be said about the difference between philosophical statements and true/false propositions.

Wittgenstein, Nietzsche, and Future Philosophers  155 First, Wittgensteinian philosophical clarifications of language use may simplify (by abstracting away features of use) and idealize (by presenting use as more regular or neater than it is), as illustrated by Wittgenstein’s method of describing fluctuating uses of language by means of fixed and definite rules. Importantly, as he notes, language is here only compared with a game according to fixed and definite rules, not claimed to be one. His approach thus doesn’t involve putting forward any theses about the rules according to which language is actually used, or even claiming that language use really is governed by fixed and definite rules. Instead rules function here as the philosopher’s mode of representing language use. As Wittgenstein notes elsewhere, ‘[…] we do not actually assert that language is a game which is played according to rules (for otherwise we are asserting something false), but we compare the phenomena of language with such a game, and the one is more or less similar to the other’ (VW, 35/MS 302, 14; cf. PI §§81–83). The truth of philosophical clarifications of language therefore differs from the truth of propositions about actual language use in that whilst a proposition is false if it represents actual reality as different from what it is, for example as simpler than it is, this needn’t be so with a philosophical clarification. Rather, a philosophical clarification only needs to capture what is relevant for clarifying and solving the problems at hand. For this purpose something simplified and idealized that brings out something characteristic may suffice. Indeed, in philosophy something simplified and idealized may be just what is needed in that simplification and idealization can importantly help to achieve clarity by cutting through complexities that obscure what we are trying to understand. Rather than on empirical accuracy, the truth of a philosophical clarification depends on whether it clarifies the issues and enables one to solve relevant problems. Second, Wittgenstein’s point that the task of philosophy isn’t to represent actual reality empirically accurately can be further elucidated with reference to what he says about natural historical descriptions in philosophy (cf. PI §415). Distinct from descriptions given in terms of statements of rule employed to clarify uses of language, natural historical descriptions provide another example of Wittgensteinian methods (see Kuusela 2019, chapter 6). Wittgenstein comments on the role of natural historical considerations: If concept formation can be explained by facts of nature, shouldn’t we be interested, not in grammar, but rather in what is its basis in nature? – We are, indeed, also interested in the correspondence between concepts and very general facts of nature. (Such facts as mostly do not strike us because of their generality.) But our interest is not thereby thrown back on to these possible causes of concept formation; we are

156  Oskari Kuusela not doing natural science; nor yet natural history since we can also invent [erdichten] fictitious natural history for our purposes. (PI II xii/PPF §365) Insofar as philosophers can invent natural history for their purposes, they are evidently not in the business of true/false representation of reality in the sense of true/false propositions. A proposition that represents a made-up state of affairs says something false. By contrast, something made up and imaginary can in philosophy be used to bring out or draw attention to something that is true about the objects of investigation. For example, imagining or representing natural facts as different from what they are can serve the purpose of drawing attention to connections between language use and natural historical facts that are really there. In this way the natural historical method can then be used to highlight certain aspects of language use that, due to their familiarity, might otherwise escape our notice (cf. PI §129). Wittgenstein explains the point as follows: It is only in normal cases that the use of a word is clearly laid out in advance for us; we know, are in no doubt, what we have to say in this or that case. The more abnormal the case, the more doubtful it becomes what we are to say. And if things were quite different from what they actually are – if there were, for instance, no characteristic expression of pain, of fear, of joy; if rule became exception and exception rule; or if both became phenomena of roughly equal frequency – our normal language-games would thereby lose their point. – The procedure of putting a lump of cheese on a balance and fixing the price by the turn of the scale would lose its point if it frequently happened that such lumps suddenly grew or shrank with no obvious cause. (PI §142) Here we have sketches of examples of how imagining natural historical facts to be different can help to clarify the uses of language or their aspects or features. For instance, our usual language-game of fixing the price of cheese by weighing it would become impossible if cheeses grew and shrank randomly. The natural historical regularity that they don’t do so thus undergirds the language-game. However, given how accustomed we are to this regularity, it’s very easy to take it for granted. Consequently, its importance might only become obvious by imagining things to be different. Likewise, if Wittgenstein is right, our language-game with ‘pain’ would become impossible in the absence of characteristic external expressions of pain, such as crying, moaning, and other bodily expressions. This is so, insofar such external expressions are the basis of applying the concept to others in the third person case, and insofar as the basis of the language-game and its

Wittgenstein, Nietzsche, and Future Philosophers  157 most basic form is the first person expressive uses of relevant words, as Wittgenstein maintains. Were there no characteristic expressions of pain, it wouldn’t be possible to teach a child to replace the natural expressions of pain with their linguistic expressions which, according to Wittgenstein, is how the connection is first established between relevant linguistic expressions and pain.9 If this is right, the language-game couldn’t get off the ground in the absence of such reactions. Wittgenstein writes: How do words refer to sensations? […] This question is the same as: how does a human being learn the meaning of names of sensations? For example, of the word ‘pain’. Here is one possibility: words are connected with the primitive, natural, expressions of sensation and used in their place. A child has hurt himself and he cries; and then adults talk to him and teach him exclamations and, later, sentences. They teach the child new pain-behaviour. (PI §244) It’s significant that Wittgenstein only proposes this account as a possibility. For his purposes of offering an alternative to the account of knowledge of mental states as based on private definitions a possibility is enough. Nothing more is needed, because already this possibility suffices to undermine the supposed necessity of the traditional account, insofar as it provides us with the basis for a better way of thinking that can solve relevant problems, such as the problem of other minds. (Not just any possibility can achieve this, as illustrated by the proposal that understanding other’s mental states depends on demons mediating between us. This explanation involves notions that are equally or more problematic than those of the original account.) Accordingly, Wittgenstein’s remark about how children learn to use ‘pain’, doesn’t constitute a merely asserted, unjustified empirical claim, although, significantly, no evidence is given in its support. Rather, the justification of this observation as a philosophical clarification (or the starting point of one) depends on its problem solving capacity, i.e. whether this alternative way of thinking can render relevant matters comprehensible (see Kuusela 2019, 185–188 for discussion). As I’ll explain in section 3, Nietzsche’s genealogy can be understood analogously. By outlining possibilities, including imagining natural historical facts to be different, we can therefore bring out and draw attention to philosophically important features of the use of linguistic expressions. Seemingly paradoxically, we can thus bring to view something that is true about actual language use and our concepts by imagining or describing what isn’t the case. Accordingly, on Wittgenstein’s account philosophers should indeed be interested in possibilities and untruth, and not narrowly focused on articulating true theses. A yet different illustration of philosophical

158  Oskari Kuusela clarification by saying something strictly speaking false is Wittgenstein’s grocery language-game at the start of the Investigations. Here he presents the reader with a strange example of buying apples: Now think of the following use of language: I send someone shopping. I give him a slip of paper marked ‘five red apples’. He takes the slip to the shopkeeper, who opens the drawer marked ‘apples’; then he looks up the word ‘red’ in a chart and finds a colour sample opposite it; then he says the series of elementary number-words – I assume that he knows them by heart – up to the word ‘five’, and for each number-word he takes an apple of the same colour as the sample out of the drawer. (PI §1) This isn’t how we usually buy apples. Wittgenstein’s description says something false about our actual linguistic practices; it’s not an empirically accurate description. Nevertheless, the way in which the example misrepresents what it’s like to buy apples serves an important philosophical purpose of illustrating the differences between the uses of the words ‘five’, ‘red’, and ‘apple’. As the grocery example is set up, the way in which the shopkeeper uses each word is clearly different: ‘five’ is used to determine a certain quantity of apples by correlating them with number words said out loud; ‘apple’ is used as a name similarly to a label or a name tag; ‘red’ is used as a quality word with the shopkeeper identifying relevant quality on the basis of a colour sample. Again the point is to bring out something characteristic about the use of relevant words, but this isn’t the same as representing the situation in a way that corresponds to how we actually buy apples. Rather, here the differences between the uses of relevant words are clarified by exaggerating them similarly to how one might bring out something characteristic of a person’s face in a caricature by ­exaggerating its features. (These differences between the uses of relevant words don’t stand out as clearly in their usual use.) Here then is a third way in which saying something false can serve the purpose of understanding what is true. Let’s now look more closely into how this is possible and what it reveals about the notion of truth in philosophy. In order to get clearer about this, let’s revisit Wittgenstein’s comparison between philosophy, poetry and genre-pictures, the purpose of which is to clarify the notion of truth in the case of philosophy and poetry. Provided a genre-picture isn’t a representation of any particular state of affairs on which its truth depends, what does such a picture represent or communicate? How can it say anything true at all? Wittgenstein writes: When I look at a genre-picture, it ‘tells’ me something, even though I don’t believe (imagine) for a moment that the people I see in it really

Wittgenstein, Nietzsche, and Future Philosophers  159 exist, or that there have really been people in that situation. For suppose I ask: ‘What does it tell me, then?’ A picture tells me itself is what I’d like to say. That is, its telling me something consists in its own structure, in its own forms and colours. (PI §§522–523; cf. TS 213, 86) A genre-picture, and similarly the imagined grocery scene, tells us something, but not about anything in actual reality, i.e. that such and such happened. Rather, the picture ‘tells me itself’, as one might say of a poem or a novel. If so, however, how can a genre-picture be true at all, i.e. tell us anything about what is actually the case? How can such a picture even say anything that is characteristic or generally true, as I described genrepictures? Significantly, the same question arises for philosophical statements generally, as Wittgenstein conceives them. This can be helpfully discussed with reference to statements of grammatical rules, whose use Wittgenstein characterizes as non-temporal and non-spatial, and in the case of which the problem stands out. Unlike empirical statements that concern particular cases in time and space, grammatical rules don’t state anything about particular cases in time and space, either individually or generalizing over them (MS 117, 24–25/MS 118, 18r; TS 221, 156–157; RFM I § 102). On the one hand, this notion of non-temporal/non-spatial use explains the exceptionless generality or universality of philosophical statements without any need to postulate ideal non-temporal metaphysical entities as their target. Wittgensteinian philosophical statements are universal/exceptionless, because they don’t concern any particular cases to begin with, not because they concern something ideal that allows for no exceptions. On the other hand, however, this view gives rise to the questions I just asked about genre-pictures: What are philosophical statements true about in this case? How can they be true about anything, if they don’t speak of any actual cases? Wittgenstein’s answer is given in terms of his account of the use or logical status of philosophical models as objects of comparison: Our clear and simple language-games are not preliminary studies for a future regimentation of language – as it were first approximations, ignoring friction and air- resistance. Rather the language-games stand there as objects of comparison which, through similarities and dissimilarities, are meant to throw light on features of our language. For we can avoid unfairness or vacuity in our assertions only by presenting the model as what it is, as an object of comparison – as a sort of yardstick; not as a preconception to which reality must correspond. (The dogmatism into which we fall so easily in doing philosophy.) (PI §§130–131)

160  Oskari Kuusela Although this explanation refers to simple language-games, the point applies to other Wittgensteinian models too, including grammatical rules and natural historical pictures (as exemplified by Investigations §244 above). As it stands, such a model, like a genre-picture, merely ‘tells me itself’. By simply stating a rule for the use of a word or constructing a simple language-game, such as the grocery language-game, one hasn’t yet said anything about the actual reality of language use. Nevertheless, such a model can be brought into contact with reality by comparing actual reality with it. By so doing we can then, for example, highlight specific aspects of the actual use of language, such as the differences in the use of ‘five’, ‘red’, and ‘apple’. Thus, we can state something true (assuming these differences are real), although, as explained, truth doesn’t here depend on empirical accuracy, unlike the truth of empirical statements. Neither are philosophical statements true of an ideal reality, however. Wittgenstein’s method explains the possibility of simplification and idealization in philosophy as follows. From this point of view, the purpose of an idealized philosophical account isn’t to make a claim about a postulated ideal reality or ideal entities. Rather, idealized notions and models can be employed in philosophy to clarify specific aspects of the messy actual reality, whereby actual reality is presented as being neater and simpler than it is for the purposes of clarification by comparing actual reality with such models (cf. the quote from MS 140/PG). Because actual reality isn’t claimed to perfectly correspond to such a model, however, the problem of dogmatism is avoided. Now philosophers don’t have to insist that reality is actually like their models, because when reality is only compared with a model, exceptions can be readily acknowledged. They no longer automatically question the value of the model and falsify it, as counter-examples can falsify philosophical theses, because on Wittgenstein’s approach no claim is made about what all cases must be (RPP §633). Put in a yet different way, rather than a feature of reality which philosophers make claims about, essential exceptionlessness necessity is a characteristic feature of philosophical models: such a necessity is what a philosophical model presents us with. Unlike the philosophical tradition has assumed, however, philosophers’ statements about exceptionless necessity don’t constitute truth-claims about ideal exceptionless regularities found in reality, being true insofar as they correspond to such necessities. Rather, statements about exceptionless necessities are instruments for clarifying the features of actual messy and fluctuating reality. The truth of philosophical statements therefore doesn’t depend on any ideal reality. A criterion for their truth is whether the statements can clarify whatever they purport to clarify, i.e. whether they enable us to understand what we are trying to understand, and help us resolve our philosophical difficulties without giving rise to other similar difficulties. (As noted, different things might be said about

Wittgenstein, Nietzsche, and Future Philosophers  161 the same objects of investigation in response to different problems regarding them. Importantly, however, this doesn’t mean that what is true or the case depends on the problems we happen to have. What problems preoccupy us is a matter of contingent interests, but only the relevance of what is said, not truth, depends on our interests; see Kuusela 2019, chapter 6.6.) In conclusion to this section it’s worth noting how far Wittgenstein’s approach takes us from thinking of philosophical truth in terms of correspondence between philosophical statements and reality. Due to their function as objects of comparison, Wittgensteinian models enable us to bring into focus features of reality or language use also by showing how relevant cases differ from the models. The basic point is simple: by observing how certain cases differ from a model in specific respects, we can achieve an understanding of those cases too without the model representing them or saying anything about them directly. As §130 says, objects of comparison can throw light on things not only by way of similarities but also dissimilarities. A particular variant of this method is using cases as (what Wittgenstein calls) centres of variation (MS 152, 15–16; MS 115, 220–221). Here certain cases, models, descriptions or definitions thereof are treated as centres of variation,10 whereby other cases can be seen as differing from them in specific ways, oscillating around the centres. (There can also be mixed cases that exhibit the features of more than one centre of variation.) This method gives yet another illustration of how we can achieve a perspicuous view of a complex objects of study without risking false simplification that results from our requiring that all relevant instances neatly fit our account. 3 Nietzsche’s Genealogy of Morals as Philosophical Poetry In the preceding I have outlined how the notion of truth can be understood in philosophy without postulating an ideal reality or entities which the universal/exceptionless statements of philosophers would be true of. Importantly, this rejection of ideal realities doesn’t require us to reject traditional philosophical statements. Certainly, Wittgenstein isn’t trying to argue for the reduction of philosophical statements to merely empirical ones, but maintains that this would make it impossible to explain exceptionless logical necessity (PI §240–242; RFM VI §49/MS 164, 149–150; see Kuusela 2019, chapters 4 and 6, especially sections 4.6 and 6.3). Instead, Wittgenstein outlines a novel non-metaphysical way of using universal/exceptionless philosophical statements that makes it possible to avoid the problem of dogmatism that arises when statements about exceptionless necessities are put forward as true/false theses about exceptionless necessities in reality to which all relevant cases supposedly must conform. According to Wittgenstein, such statements also involve a confusion about

162  Oskari Kuusela the use of ideal notions in philosophy (PI §§100–102; see Kuusela 2019, chapter 4, especially sections 4.2–4.4). Ideal notions, such as exceptionless logical or grammatical rules, are better understood as instruments of philosophical clarification that function as modes of representing reality, rather than being regarded as targets of true/false representations concerning an ideal reality or ideal entities. As explained, by only comparing reality with such models, we can then acknowledge exceptions to philosophical accounts, and reach a richer and more nuanced understanding of reality in its complexity. It’s not possible to know for certain whether Nietzsche would welcome this Wittgensteinian approach as an example of future philosophy, as he envisages it. However, as I have presented Wittgenstein, there seems to be a good fit between what Nietzsche wants and what Wittgenstein delivers. Philosophy, as Wittgenstein conceives it, involves a revaluation of the value of truth as the object of philosophers’ theses in the sense that philosophers could claim to possess truth in their theses like a bottle contains wine. Nevertheless, this doesn’t mean giving up the commitment or will to truth, only rejecting the dogmatism of philosophers and their theses about ideal realities, as Nietzsche does on the interpretation outlined in section 1. Insofar as philosophical theses risk or involve the dogmatic falsification of reality, they are not the way to understand what is true. Rather, if Wittgenstein is right, grasping truth requires us to employ various methods and modes of representation to bring truth to view or make it reveal itself. Truth might also be hiding in plain sight, too familiar for us to be able to grasp its significance. Certainly, it may be more complex than traditional philosophical theses can account for. Further, Wittgenstein’s approach helps to make sense of what Nietzsche is trying to do in his Genealogy of Morals which seems helpfully compared with Wittgenstein’s natural historical methods. (Nietzsche calls for a natural history of morals in BGE, §186.) Notably, just as Wittgenstein’s remark about how children learn the use of pain (PI §244) isn’t an empirical claim in need of empirical support, Nietzsche’s Genealogy can hardly be understood as history in the sense of an empirical study backed up by evidence. The absence of any supporting evidence is equally striking in both cases, suggesting that this isn’t merely an accident. But if Nietzsche’s genealogy can’t be understood as a historical study in the usual empirical sense, how ought it to be understood? Note also the lack of philosophical significance of usual kind of empirical historical claims. How can Nietzsche then claim such significance for his study? In outline, Nietzsche sketches in his Genealogy an account of the development of ‘contemporary European morality’ from two different sources, what he calls the morality of the nobles, associated with the Ancient Greeks, and slave morality, associated with Jews and Christians. Due to

Wittgenstein, Nietzsche, and Future Philosophers  163 this genealogy, Nietzsche suggests, our contemporary morality is irreducibly complex. It involves different conceptions of the good, one contrasted with evil and the other with bad, that are not consistent with one another. If this is correct, contrary to what philosophers such as Kant have assumed, morality doesn’t constitute a consistent systematic whole, and it can’t be grounded on any single thesis regarding the nature of the good. Accordingly, moral judgments and actions may be informed and backed up by a variety of different, perhaps incompatible considerations, as if lit up by different suns. ‘[W]e modern men are determined by a diversity of morals; our actions shine with different colors in turn, they are rarely unambiguous – and it happens often enough that we perform multi-colored actions’ (BGE, §215). But if in the absence of proper evidential grounding, this is just a story or a picture, or a poem in the sense of the German ‘Dichtung’, what philosophical work can it do? Like Wittgenstein puts forward his account of how children learn the use of ‘pain’ as a mere possibility, so Nietzsche’s genealogy can be read as presenting us with a possible picture of the development of morality. Crucially, just as it suffices for Wittgenstein to bring up a mere possibility to question the necessity that philosophers have claimed for the traditional account of knowledge of mental states, likewise for Nietzsche. If it’s possible that our contemporary morality is the result of a development such as Nietzsche outlines, it can’t be taken for granted that a systematic account of morality can be given. Hence, all needed to justify the project of the revaluation of values, and of examining our moral notions, is a possibility (as long as it doesn’t introduce notions more problematic than it replaces; cf. section 2 above). In order for Nietzsche to problematize systematic accounts of morality, he therefore doesn’t need a properly documented history, just as Wittgenstein doesn’t need to appeal to developmental psychology. But is Nietzsche’s genealogy therefore merely speculative, something which can’t be established as true or justified? No. The truth of Nietzsche’s genealogy can be understood in light of what Wittgenstein says about the truth of genre-pictures, poetry, and philosophy. Nietzsche’s account seems indeed like a genre-picture in that it describes no scenes that could be documented as having actually happened (such as the Sack of Rome by Visigoths). There’s no answer to the question which historical persons correspond to the different types of characters in Nietzsche’s genealogy, such as the priests. Instead it provides us with a general picture that tries to capture something characteristic of the development of morality, for example, that certain conceptual regimes and modes of life collided during this history and produced what we now know as morality. The way that Nietzsche describes these conceptual regimes and modes of life may then be left impressionistic or idealized. Nietzsche only needs to include

164  Oskari Kuusela whatever he needs for the purpose of challenging the assumption about the systematicity of morality, other details being irrelevant. Hence, we might speak here of an idealized historical picture of the development of morality, corresponding to Wittgensteinian idealizations. If the preceding is accepted, we have in place an account of the truth and justification of Nietzsche’s genealogy. This isn’t a matter of whether his account is empirically accurate, contrary to what we demand of history. As explained, lack of empirical accuracy isn’t a problem for a philosophical account, as long as it captures whatever is relevant for dealing with the philosophical problems at hand. Accordingly, the philosophical work it can do provides the criterion of truth for Nietzsche’s account of morality. It can be regarded as true insofar as it successfully problematizes our assumptions about the systematicity of morality, i.e. if upon examination we conclude that our contemporary morality is indeed not systematic, and that it can be better understood as made up of different elements, such as Nietzsche describes. The truth of Nietzsche’s account therefore depends on neither its empirical accuracy nor its capturing the ideal essence of morality underlying our moral practices. Rather, Nietzsche’s genealogy is an instrument of philosophical thought, a philosophical device designed to clarify the nature of morality. Accordingly, its justification and truth can be assessed on the basis of whether it can clarify these matters to us. (On this account it’s possible to also maintain that an account of morality is partially correct, insofar as it can clarify merely some of its aspects.) As a final point, let’s return to Wittgenstein’s point that philosophy can only be written as poetry. Another variant of the remark quoted earlier puts the point about philosophy and poetry as follows: ‘The re/presentation [Darstellung] of philosophy can only be poetic [kann nur gedichtet werden]’ (MS 115, 30). We are now in a better position to understand what Wittgenstein means. As explained, a philosophical representation or model isn’t justified, like a proposition, with reference to a corresponding fact that makes it true. Neither can a philosophical representation be derived from any facts, so to speak, because philosophical representations are not representations of any facts, either empirical or metaphysical/ideal. Instead of representing any facts, a philosophical representation articulates a way of organizing or conceptualizing facts with the purpose of enabling us to render them perspicuous. As Wittgenstein conceives philosophy, this often involves the introduction/invention of new ways of conceptualizing and envisaging things, such that the problems plaguing the old way of thinking no longer arise in the context of these new ways of thinking (see Kuusela 2023). As this brings out, the design of a philosophical mode of representation, such as Nietzsche’s genealogy, is a creative act. Designing a philosophical representation resembles in this sense composing a poem rather than recording facts.11

Wittgenstein, Nietzsche, and Future Philosophers  165 Notes 1 See Clark 1990, chapter 1 for an overview of different interpretative positions with regard to whether and in what sense Nietzsche rejects the notion of truth. A somewhat different approach that emphasizes the connection of truth with value and its transformative potential is taken by Mitchenson 2013. Whilst Wittgenstein too emphasizes the importance of being able to transform one’s thinking in philosophy, and regards philosophy as requiring the development of certain intellectual and other virtues, my focus here is on the notion of truth. I’ll therefore not comment on these further similarities between the two philosophers. See Kuusela 2023 for discussion of the notion of transformation of thinking in Wittgenstein. 2 According to so-called therapeutic and liberatory readings, Wittgenstein merely aims to dissolve philosophical problems without committing to any views as true or correct (see Read and Hutchinson 2010, Read 2021). For a criticism and alternative to this view of dissolution, see Kuusela, 2023. 3 My aim in the following isn’t to offer anything like a conclusive argument for the view that Nietzsche doesn’t reject the possibility of truth or philosophical truth, which is beyond the scope of this discussion. It’s only to establish that it’s reasonable to read his late published works in this way. 4 Nietzsche’s criticism of the Stoics as projecting their idea of nature onto nature, thus turning nature into their own image illustrates his point. What results is a ‘huge eternal glorification and universalization of Stoicism! For all your love of truth, you have forced yourselves so long, so persistently, and with such hypnotic rigidity to have a false, namely Stoic, view of nature, that you can no longer see it any other way’ (BGE, §9). This criticism is parallel to how Wittgenstein criticises his early Tractatus as having projected a particular model of language onto language claiming it to capture its hidden sublime essence, whereby he fell captive to a certain dogmatic picture of language (PI §§89, 94, 104, 108, 114–115, 130–131). See Kuusela 2008, chapter 3 for the problem of dogmatism and Wittgenstein’s solution to it. 5 ‘Wenn ich nicht ein richtigeres denken…’ and ‘… Philosophie dürfte man eigentlich nur dichten’. He adds: ‘It seems that this reveals also how far my thinking belongs to the present, future or past. For herewith I have also revealed myself as someone who cannot quite do what he wishes’ (MS 146: 50). The interpretation suggests itself that Wittgenstein’s reservations about his abilities have to do with his difficulties with writing philosophy mentioned in the preface to the Philosophical Investigations. It’s unclear, however, how this helps to understand his relation to the present, future and past (cf. note 8). The two remarks are from 1938 (MS 120) and 1933 (MS 146), that is, from a period when Wittgenstein was still working out how exactly to characterise his new, the so-called later approach, although by 1938 a typescript version of the early parts of the Investigations (TS 220) was already in existence. For another remark on the revaluation of values, see MS 183, 54 from the same period. Klagge 2021 approaches the issue of Wittgenstein, philosophy, and poetry somewhat differently from what I propose below. Wittgenstein’s remarks on philosophy and poetry are also discussed by Schulte 2013 who connects them with Wittgenstein’s characterizations of himself as a painter. Again the way I develop these points is somewhat different. 6 Wittgenstein also describes himself as making propaganda for ‘one style of thinking as opposed to another’ (LC, 28).

166  Oskari Kuusela 7 Wittgenstein’s later clarifications are not falsified by counter-examples in the same way as traditional philosophical theses understood as exceptionless true/ false claims. See below. 8 Note the connection of this remark with Wittgenstein’s characterization of his clarifications as sketches of landscapes in the preface to the Investigations. Although paintings are not the same as sketches, the comparison between philosophical clarifications and landscape pictures evidently retains its significance for Wittgenstein after the early 1930s too, when the remark just quoted is drafted. 9 According to the so-called private language argument, this connection can’t be established by giving private definitions to words with reference to inner states inaccessible to others. If so, not only does the traditional account, according to which we know mental states from our own case, make knowledge of the mental states of others impossible. It also makes it impossible to explain our relation to our own mental states (PI §243ff.). 10 Wittgenstein’s examples are punishment as retribution, deterrent and reform; cf. Nietzsche’s discussion of different types of punishment in Genealogy (GM, II, §4). 11 I’m grateful to Paul Deb, Tom Greaves, and the editors of this collection for their comments on this essay.

Bibliography Clark, Maudemarie. (1990). Nietzsche on Truth and Philosophy. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Klagge, James. (2021). Wittgenstein’s Artillery: Philosophy as Poetry. Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press. Kuusela, Oskari. (2008). The Struggle against Dogmatism. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. ———. (2019). Wittgenstein on Logic as the Method of Philosophy. Oxford: Oxford University Press. ———. (2023) ‘Dissolution of Philosophical Problems and the Transformation of Thinking.’ In Lucilla Guidi (ed.), Wittgensteinian Exercises: Aesthetic and Ethical Transformations. Leiden: Fink/Brill, 111–136. Mitchenson, Katrina. (2013). Nietzsche, Truth and Transformation. Houndmills: Palgrave Macmillan. Read, Rupert. (2021). Wittgenstein’s Liberatory Philosophy. New York: Routledge. Read, Rupert and Hutchinson, Phil. (2010). ‘Therapy’. In K.D. Jolley ed., Wittgenstein: Key Concepts. Durham: Acumen, 149–150. Schulte, Joachim. (2013). ‘Wittgenstein on Philosophy as Poetry’. In M.F. Molder, D. Soeiro, and N. Fonseca eds., Morphology: Questions on Method and Language. Bern: Peter Lang.

Part II

Dialogues Philosophical Intersections between Wittgenstein and Nietzsche

7 Philosophical Style Between Philosophy, Poetry, and Aphoristic Writing Philip Mills

One of the most striking features of Nietzsche’s and Wittgenstein’s writings, at least at first glance, is their specific styles which contrast with the philosophical norm of structured argumentation. But is this feature only superficial or does it involve deeper philosophical roots? In other words, to what extent is style a philosophical concern for them? And how does style help us connect them to one another? In this investigation of style, philosophy encounters one of its oldest ‘rivals:’ poetry. Indeed, when Plato banishes poets from his ideal city and takes side with philosophy in what he calls ‘an ancient quarrel,’ he operates a philosophical move that marks the history of philosophy and places style in the second rank of philosophical concerns. Following this line of thought, philosophy should be written clearly and not poetically or stylistically.1 At the same time, however, philosophy shares with poetry the fact that both are written and therefore concerned with language, perhaps even more so since the ‘linguistic turn.’ As Donald Verene argues: ‘Philosophy shares with the poetic and rhetoric a dependence on the power of the word. Whatever philosophy does or can do is accomplished in language.’2 Philosophy, poetry, and rhetoric all rely on the performativity of language. In this sense, style is of central significance as ‘what’ is said is dependent on ‘how’ it is said. Against the idea that style should be erased from philosophical concerns, Manfred Frank argues that style is central to understanding: The language of philosophy belongs to traditions whose content can never be dissolved into transparent insight, and is influenced by a style in which ultimately a noninterchangeable individual manner of accessing the world demands a hearing. All understanding is based on this individual manner. Therefore, one does not get any closer to philosophy by extinguishing style; instead, by dispensing with style, one will be left without access to any understanding at all.3

DOI: 10.4324/9781003219071-10

170  Philip Mills According to Frank, one of the reasons for which style is a central philosophical concern comes from the fact that the style of writing is related to a specific ‘individual manner of accessing the world’ which grounds the possibility of understanding. Without style, without this individual manner, there can be no understanding at all. If style is central to understanding and if philosophy aims, at least in part, at understanding what ‘understanding’ is as well as at being understood, then it cannot forego an investigation of style. In this chapter, I therefore aim to show that Nietzsche and Wittgenstein share a common concern with style that is rooted in core philosophical issues, especially their critique of metaphysics and their revaluation of the relation between philosophy and poetry. My argument is divided into three steps: first, I focus on style as a tool for criticism to show how Nietzsche and Wittgenstein use stylistic criticism against traditional (systematic) philosophy; second, I show how this criticism leads to a revaluation of the relation between philosophy and poetry; third, I argue that the aphoristic writing they each practise is a way of finding a philosophical style that embraces the poetic rather than rejecting it. 1 Style as Critique If style is related to thinking and understanding as Frank suggests, how should a philosopher write? As often with Nietzsche, this question can be asked first from a negative perspective: how should a philosopher not write? This question leads Nietzsche to criticise the style of other philosophers as well as his own. For instance, he calls Plato the ‘first stylistic decadent’ which leads him to the conclusion ‘Plato is boring’ (TI 1998, ‘Ancients’ §2/KSA 6.155). Similarly, he criticises Spinoza’s ‘hocus-pocus of mathematical form’ which ‘disguised his philosophy (“the love of his wisdom” ultimately, if we interpret the word correctly and fairly)’ (BGE 1998 §5/KSA 5.19). Interestingly, as these two criticisms show, the critique of style leads to a critique of the philosopher behind the style, i.e. stylistic criticism leads to philosophical criticism and even personal criticism insofar as ‘every philosophy is the unconscious memoir of his author’ (BGE §6/ KSA 5.19). Behind every philosophy, there is a centre that is personal and subjective and the systematic style of Spinoza (or even Plato to some extent) aims to hide it, aims to reach an artificial objectivity. But why does Nietzsche criticise Plato and Spinoza? What is wrong with their style? Nietzsche’s criticism concerns the fact that their styles aim to hide something; as he says about Spinoza, to ‘armour and disguise.’ His critique of Hegel’s style on the same grounds offers a clear explanation: Of the celebrated Germans, none perhaps possessed more esprit than Hegel—but he also possessed so great a German fear of it that this fear

Philosophical Style  171 was responsible for creating the bad style peculiar to him. For the essence of his style is that a kernel is wrapped round and wrapped round again until it can hardly peep through, bashfully and with inquisitive eyes as ‘young women peep through their veils,’ to quote the ancient misogynist Aeschylus—but this kernel is a witty, often indiscreet inspiration on the most intellectual subjects, a daring and subtle phrase-coinage such as is appropriate to the society of thinkers as a condiment to science—but swathed in its wrapping it presents itself as the abstrusest of sciences and altogether a piece of the highest moral boredom! (D 1997, §193/KSA 3.166–7) The two elements of criticism noted above with Plato and Spinoza can be found in Nietzsche’s critique of Hegel: first, like Spinoza, Hegel hides and disguises his philosophy, wrapping its kernel with layers of artificial veils; second, like Plato, this wrapping, this style makes him boring, and even ‘a piece of the highest boredom.’ Hegel’s style is a way of diverting the eye, of hiding something under layers of ‘subtle phrase-coinage.’ By hiding the kernel of his philosophy, that is his personal and subjective ‘esprit,’ Hegel’s systematicity shows a lack of integrity. As Nietzsche suggests in Twilight of the Idols: ‘I mistrust all systematists and avoid them. The will to system is a lack of integrity’ (TI ‘Arrows’ 26/KSA 6.63). This lack of integrity comes from the fact that the systematists refuse the personal core of their philosophy and attempt to conceal it behind layers of veils. Although Plato, Spinoza, and Hegel have very different styles, Nietzsche considers them all to be systematists whose style aims at concealing something. This criticism is precisely the one Nietzsche makes to David Strauss in the first Untimely Meditation: A philosophy which chastely concealed behind arabesque flourishes the philistine confession of its author invented in addition a formula for the apotheosis of the commonplace: it spoke of the rationality of the real, and thus ingratiated itself with the cultural philistine, who also loves arabesque flourishes but above all conceives himself alone to be real and treats his reality as the standard of reason in the world. (UM 1, § 2/KSA 1.69–70) The relation to Hegel is quite explicit in the ‘rationality of the real [Vernünftigkeit alles Wirklichen]’ that originates in Hegel’s Philosophy of Right: ‘What is rational [vernünftig] is actual [wirklich] and what is actual [wirklich] is rational [vernünftig].’4 In his criticism of Hegel’s style, Nietzsche uses the same vocabulary of concealment as in his critiques of Plato and Spinoza: style conceals philosophy and its author, conceals it ‘chastely’ like Spinoza’s armour and Plato’s boredom. This concealment behind

172  Philip Mills ‘arabesque flourishes’ hides precisely the fact that the philosopher ‘treats his reality as the standard of reason in the world.’ Behind this criticism of style is the idea of the subjective character of philosophy and of the lack of integrity of philosophers who consider their subjective perspective as the standard for reason. In this sense, and as we will see with Nietzsche’s remarks on his own style, style becomes for Nietzsche a way to think perspectivism: he criticises other philosophers because their style aims to hide the fact that their philosophy is only one perspective among others. But before moving to consider Nietzsche’s own style in positive terms, let us look at how he criticises his own style. Indeed, Nietzsche does not only criticise others, but he also criticises himself, thus showing where his style has been somewhat inferior to what he expected, especially in his retrospective criticism of The Birth of Tragedy. In this ‘Attempt at self-criticism,’ he discusses two points where his language was stylistically insufficient. First, he criticises the fact that he used the language of others to express his own thought: How much I now regret that at that time I lacked sufficient courage (and arrogance?) to allow myself to express such personal and risky views throughout in my own personal language—that instead I laboured to express in the terms of Schopenhauer and Kant new and unfamiliar evaluations, which ran absolutely counter the spirit, as well as the taste, of Schopenhauer and Kant! (BoT 2008, ‘Attempt,’ §6) One of the problems of his style in The Birth of Tragedy is that he borrowed the style of Schopenhauer and Kant rather than using his own. It thus creates a discrepancy between the ideas expressed and the style used. He used the style of Schopenhauer and Kant, that is the style of metaphysics, to express something that ‘ran absolutely counter the spirit, as well as the taste, of Schopenhauer and Kant!’ Second, this idea that he used a language counter the spirit of his thought leads Nietzsche to think that ‘It should have sung, this “new soul”—rather than spoken! What a pity that I did not dare to say what I had to say then as a poet: I might have managed it!’ (BoT ‘Attempt’ §3/KSA 1.15). Rather than saying what he had to say as a poet, he used the language of metaphysicians. Rather than entering the realm of poetic language, he remained within the bounds of metaphysical language. For Nietzsche, there is therefore a relation between style and subjectivity, which Wittgenstein mirrors by quoting Buffon’s famous sentence ‘Style is the man.’ In Culture and Value, he makes a remark on this sentence: ‘“Le style c’est l'homme.” “Le style c’est l'homme même.” The first expression has a cheap epigrammatic brevity. The second, correct, one opens a quite different perspective. It says that style is the picture of the man’ (CV 1998,

Philosophical Style  173 89). By translating this idea to philosophy, we could say that style is the picture of the philosopher, thus coming back to Nietzsche’s idea that there is a relation between style, philosophy, and philosopher.5 Unlike Nietzsche, Wittgenstein does not criticise the style of other philosophers, but reflects on the limits of his own style which he describes as ‘bad musical composition’ (CV, 39). There are two ideas in this sentence: first, Wittgenstein likens his style to composition, and we will see that this idea affects the relation between philosophy and poetry (through the musical connection); second, he criticises his style as bad. Like Nietzsche, who considers that his new soul should have sung, Wittgenstein considers his style to be poor. However, Nietzsche considers his style to have improved, as he retrospectively criticises his style in previous works whereas Wittgenstein constantly regrets his incapacity to write better. The question then remains: how can one improve one’s style? 2 Improving One’s Style The question of style is important because it involves the possibility of understanding. To make explicit this connection, Wittgenstein uses the notion of ‘style of thinking’ in his Lectures on Aesthetics. Although this notion only appears in lecture notes and is therefore not typical of Wittgenstein, it epitomises his reflections on the relation between style and thought. Joachim Schulte acknowledges the importance of style of thinking: ‘Under style of thinking [Stil des Denkens], Wittgenstein does not only understand the way or the technique of thought, its form of expression, but also to a certain degree style as what can be found as a possible object of thought because this style marks the investigation and justification procedures.’6 The notion of style of thinking not only denotes the form or way the thought is presented but is at the core of philosophical investigation. In this sense, the style of writing reflects the style of thinking. Against the idea that there can be style on the one hand and thought on the other, both Wittgenstein and Nietzsche argue that style and thought are united. Style of thinking is one way of uniting them and is central to Wittgenstein’s way of doing philosophy: I am in a sense making propaganda for one style of thinking as opposed to another. (APR, 28) How much we are doing this changing the style of thinking and how much I'm doing is changing the style of thinking and how much I'm doing is persuading people to change their style of thinking. (APR, 28)

174  Philip Mills (Much of what we are doing is a question of changing the style of thinking.) (APR, 28) These three remarks from his Lectures on Aesthetics reveal Wittgenstein’s way of doing philosophy: philosophy should bring people to see things in the right perspective (or, to the extent that ‘right’ can be problematic, in a different perspective). More than new perspectives, the ideas from the Lectures on Aesthetics bring to the fore the notion of style: philosophy is not only a matter of changing our ways of seeing, but also our ways or styles of thinking. This new style of thinking calls, in turn, for a new style of expressing or writing: finding the right style is like searching for the right perspective. Style of thinking is, for Wittgenstein, a central element in conducting philosophical research, and not only in presenting it. Wittgenstein discusses further this idea of style as a core element of philosophy with the carriage on tracks metaphor. Writing the right style means, setting the carriage precisely on the rails. (CV, 44) We are only going to set you straight on the track, if your carriage stands on the rails crookedly; driving is something we shall leave you to do by yourself. (CV, 44) In these two remarks, Wittgenstein uses the metaphor of a carriage on tracks to express the idea of style of writing and thinking. Writing in the right style aims at setting the reader’s thought on the right tracks. This is the task of Wittgenstein’s philosophy: to show a way or style of thought which brings the reader to a better understanding. It is important to note that Wittgenstein considers that his task is only to set someone on the right tracks, and not to guide her along these tracks because his philosophy does not aim at establishing doctrines or truths and therefore at bringing someone to a specific point, be it the world of ideas, the absolute spirit, or a logical certainty, but at showing someone a different way of thinking, at bringing her to change her way of thinking.7 Or to use another of Wittgenstein’s metaphors, his task is ‘To show the fly the way out of the fly-bottle’ (PI §309). What is interesting in the carriage on tracks and the fly-bottle metaphors is precisely that they are metaphors. Philosophy, for Wittgenstein and Nietzsche, cannot survive without using such poetic elements because they

Philosophical Style  175 bring something that the language of metaphysics cannot bring. It is precisely that subjective element, the affective component of thought that the language of metaphysics misses and that Nietzsche’s style aims to bring to the fore: Instruction in the best style.—Instruction in style can, on the one hand, be instruction on how to find the expression that will let us convey any mood to the reader and hearer; or else instruction on how to find the expression for a human’s most desirable mood, the one that it is therefore most desirable to communicate and convey: the mood of a human who is moved from the depths of his heart, spiritually joyful, bright and sincere, someone who has overcome his passions. This will be instruction in the best style: it corresponds to the good human being. (WS 2013, §88/KSA 2.593) More than bringing the affective to the fore, Nietzsche’s idea of style brings up an ethical dimension. The relation between style and the man is pushed one step further in saying that the best style is the good human being. A linguistic consideration leads to an axiological one. Similarly, we can understand that best style leads to good philosophy, while the bad styles of Plato, Spinoza, and Hegel lead to bad philosophies that lack integrity. In this sense, one crucial skill is to be able to write well: Learning to write well.—The time of speaking well is past, because the time of civic cultures is past. […] Therefore anyone who is Europeanminded must now learn how to write well and to write better all the time: it is no use even if he was born in Germany, where writing badly is treated as a national prerogative. Writing better, however, also means thinking better; constantly discovering things that are more worth communicating and really being able to communicate them; it means being translatable into the languages of our neighbors, making ourselves accessible for the understanding of foreigners who learn our language, working toward making everything good into a common good and ­everything freely available to those who are free, and finally, preparing for that still far-distant state of things where their great task falls into the hands of good Europeans: the direction and oversight of the entirety of world-culture.—Anyone wo preaches the opposite, not concerning ourselves with writing well and reading well—both virtues grow along with each other—is in fact showing people a way in which they can become more and more nationalistic: he is increasing the sickness of this century and is an enemy of good Europeans, an enemy of free spirits. (WS §87/KSA 2.592–3)

176  Philip Mills ‘The time of speaking well is past,’ Nietzsche argues, and we can understand from this that rhetoric must move from being the art of speaking well to being the art of writing well. Writing well means being translatable for neighbours to understand, means being opened to the culture of others. Interestingly, Nietzsche connects here the question of style to the problem of nationalism. Those not concerned with writing well in the sense of a writing accessible to others are being nationalistic, are excluding others from entering into communication. It does not mean that style should be simplified for others to understand, but that it should remain opened to the other. If we translate this in terms of perspectivism: a culture which is untranslatable, which is not understandable for others, isolates itself and therefore lacks the multiplicity of perspectives which makes the world richer. We have seen so far that style can be a tool for criticism and that, consequently, one must learn to write well. However, how do Nietzsche and Wittgenstein enact these ideas? It is one thing to say one needs to write well; it is another to do it. Their reflection on their own style leads to a reconsideration of the relation between philosophy and poetry. Indeed, Wittgenstein famously states that ‘really one should write philosophy only as one writes a poem’ (CV, 28). Much has been said about this sentence and how it reflects upon Wittgenstein’s own writing. The term ‘dichten’ that he uses does not necessarily refer to lyric poetry and he probably considers other aspects of the term, such as the notion of composition mentioned in relation to his comparison of style with music. Another aspect of which Wittgenstein might be thinking in this term ‘dichten’ is the notion of rhythm that often comes to the fore in his discussions of poetry. Indeed, when describing his experience of reading Klopstock, Wittgenstein considers that the way of stressing the words is important in poetry: Take the question: ‘How should poetry be read? What is the correct way of reading it?’ If you are talking about blank verse the right way might of reading it might be stressing it correctly—you discuss how far you should stress the rhythm and how far you should hide it. A man says it ought to be read this way and reads it to you. You say: ‘Oh yes. Now it makes sense.’ […] I had an experience with the 18th century poet Klopstock. I found that the way to read him was to stress his metre abnormally. Klopstock put ∪–∪ (etc.) in front of his poems. When I read his poems in this new way, I said: ‘Ah-ha, now I know why he did this.’ (APR, 4) There are ways of reading poetry which make more sense than others and the poet, like Klopstock, might give a few hints on how the poem should be read. Other poets, by contrast, give no instructions at all, leaving the

Philosophical Style  177 reader free to read as she likes. In both cases, poetry requires from the reader that she stresses the words in a way different from everyday reading. A poem makes sense only once it is read in the right way. We should not understand ‘right way’ as something too specific: there can be multiple right ways to read a poem; more precisely, the right way to read a poem is the one that makes sense for the reader. Although the reader is free to read the poem as she likes, the poet can indicate how it should be read and Klopstock does so by indicating the rhythm. Reading a poem in one way might not make sense whereas reading it following the instructions does. Similarly, in reading philosophy, ‘Sometimes a sentence can be understood only if it is read at the right tempo. My sentences are all to be read slowly’ (CV, 65). Like Klopstock who indicates the rhythm in front of his lines, Wittgenstein indicates that his sentences must be read slowly. Understanding a sentence is therefore related to rhythm and tempo. Nietzsche suggests something similar: How many Germans have the knowledge—and expect it of themselves—that there is an art in every good sentence—art that must be perceived if the sentence is to be understood! Misunderstand its tempo, for example, and the sentence itself is misunderstood. (BGE §246/KSA 5.189) There is art in every good sentence, i.e. style in every good sentence, and understanding this style is necessary to understand the sentence. Style is related to understanding and one component of style is rhythm. Nietzsche further often suggests that reading and writing must be compared to dancing, which includes not only the idea of rhythm and tempo, but also the embodiment of these ideas. It is precisely this tempo or rhythm that makes it hard to translate a language, and perhaps that makes it harder to translate poetry or some forms of philosophy: The hardest thing to translate from one language to another is the tempo of its style; this style has its basis in the character of the race or to speak more physiologically, in the average tempo of the race’s ‘metabolism.’ (BGE §28/KSA 5.46) Nietzsche relates language to a certain physiology. Some language will have a faster tempo than others. And it is this tempo that is so difficult to translate. We could push this idea further in suggesting that every writer has her own tempo and that makes it so specific to translate. However, this difficulty must not hide the fact that good writing should be translatable in the abovementioned sense of being opened to others. Although Nietzsche’s

178  Philip Mills remark can sound problematic – and probably is to some extent – insofar as it connects style to a physiological dimension, we must keep in mind the openness required for good perspectival writing. Furthermore, if style is related to an inner tempo and that this inner tempo is related to the affects of the body, there might be many different styles in someone. Nietzsche considers himself, for instance, to have many stylistic possibilities: At the same time I’ll say something about my art of style in general. Communicating a state, an inner tension of pathos through signs, including the tempo of these signs—that is the point of every style; and considering that in my case the multiplicity of inner states is extraordinary, in my case there are many stylistic possibilities—altogether the most multifarious art of style anyone has ever had at their disposal. (EH ‘Books’ §4/KSA 6.304) This idea of having multiple styles comes back to the notion of perspectivism. Having a ‘multifarious art of style’ is being able to change perspective, to shift from one perspective to another. Nietzsche and Wittgenstein both acknowledge the importance of tempo in style, but how do they consider their own style? 3 Poetic and Aphoristic Writing The focus on rhythm and tempo brings to the fore the poetic dimension of style. For Nietzsche and Wittgenstein, this poetic dimension is to be found in their use of aphorisms or remarks. Indeed, this specific form of writing condenses the ideas and requires choosing the words wisely. As Wittgenstein suggests, his style is not original in form but in the choice of words: It’s possible to write in a style that is unoriginal in form—like mine—but with well chosen words; or on the other hand in one that is original in form, freshly grown from within oneself. (And also of course in one which is botched together just anyhow out of old furnishings.) (CV, 60) Although one might think that Wittgenstein’s style is original in form, that philosophy is usually not written as remarks, there is a long tradition of aphorisms and epigraphs in philosophy. The form is not original as such because Wittgenstein’s writings belong to an established tradition in philosophy. However, Wittgenstein considers that there is another way for writing to be original; that is, to choose the words well. This reminds us of what he says about poetry in PI §531:

Philosophical Style  179 We speak of understanding a sentence in the sense in which it can be replaced by another which says the same; but also in the sense in which it cannot be replaced by any other. (Any more than one musical theme can be replaced by another.) In the one case, the thought in the sentence is what is common to different sentences; in the other, something that is expressed only by these words in these positions. (Understanding a poem.) There are two forms of understanding for Wittgenstein: one in which words can be replaced by others, another in which they cannot. Wittgenstein does, however, not consider these two forms of understanding to be two different concepts of understanding, but to be showing two aspects of the concept of understanding. Understanding a poem, although it focuses on aspects different from understanding an everyday sentence, is still a matter of understanding. And we have seen that the question of style is related to the question of understanding. His way of writing might be poetic in the sense that he focuses on ‘well chosen words’ that are perhaps impossible to replace by others. He describes his way of writing in the preface to the Philosophical Investigations. I have written down all these thoughts as remarks, short paragraphs, and sometimes in longer chains about the same subject, sometimes jumping, in a sudden change, from one to another.—Originally it was my intention to bring all this together in a book whose form I thought of differently at different times. But it seemed to me essential that in the book the thoughts should proceed from one subject to another in a natural, smooth sequence. After several unsuccessful attempts to weld my results together into such a whole, I realized that I should never succeed. The best that I could write would never be more than philosophical remarks; my thoughts soon grew feeble if I tried to force them along a single track against their natural inclination.— And this was, of course, connected to the very nature of the investigation. For it compels us to travel criss-cross in every direction over a wide field of thought.—The philosophical remarks in this book are, as it were, a number of sketches of landscapes which were made in the course of these long and meandering journeys. The same or almost the same points were always being approached afresh from different directions, and new sketches made. Very many of these were badly drawn or lacking in character, marked by all the defects of a weak draughtsman. And when they were rejected, a number of halfway decent ones were left, which then had to be arranged and often

180  Philip Mills cut down, in order to give the viewer an idea of the landscape. So this book is really just an album. (PI, Preface) Wittgenstein acknowledges his original intention of writing up the remarks in the form of a book, which he defines as thoughts proceeding ‘from one subject to another in a natural, smooth sequence.’ This is Wittgenstein’s understanding of what philosophical books traditionally are, and he claims to be incapable of writing in such a manner. Such an incapability is, however, not the consequence of an inability to write but is ‘connected to the very nature of the investigation.’ If, as argued above, style and thought are closely related, thoughts cannot be expressed in any style, but style proceeds from the thoughts themselves. Edward Kanterian considers this dimension in Wittgenstein’s style to be an important one: The style answers in part to an aesthetic ideal, in part is justified by philosophical reasons pertaining to what is investigated, our conceptual scheme. This conceptual scheme is logically independent of the style and can be described in various other ways, but it lends itself in a natural way to an album-type investigation, just as much as a certain landscape can be captured by a series of loosely related sketches. But also by a ‘linear’ series of loosely connected sketches, or by a single wide-format panorama.8 Style intertwines aesthetic and conceptual aspects, and what might appear as a formal or ornamental feature is in fact related to the investigation itself. Although there is an independence between the conceptual scheme and style for Kanterian, Wittgenstein’s conceptual scheme ‘lends itself in a natural way’ to his specific style. Bringing Wittgenstein’s conceptual scheme in another style would somehow go against its nature and force it into being something it is not. Inasmuch as Wittgenstein’s style is compositional both in words and remarks, so is Nietzsche’s, and he acknowledges this double aspect in his writing of aphorisms. When describing his own style, Nietzsche considers words as central: My feeling for style, for the epigram as style, was stirred almost the moment I came into contact with Sallust. […] One will recognize in me, even in my Zarathustra, a very serious ambition for Roman style, for the ‘aere perennius’ in style.—My first contact with Horace was no different. To this day I have never had the same artistic delight in any poet as I was given from the start by one of Horace’s odes. In certain languages, what is achieved here cannot even be desired. This mosaic of

Philosophical Style  181 words, in which every word radiates its strength as sound, as place, as concept, to the right and to the left and over the whole, this minimum in the range and number of its signs, the maximum which this attains in the energy of the signs—all this is Roman and, if I am to be believed, noble par excellence. All the rest of poetry becomes, in comparison, something too popular—a mere emotional garrulousness. (TI ‘Ancients’ §1/KSA 6.154–5) Like Wittgenstein’s, Nietzsche’s style is not original in form inasmuch as it belongs to the long tradition of epigrams, going back to the Romans and even before them. His style also focuses on words and his ideal of style, Horace, makes the words radiate in many ways. The words are central for they carry the possibility of radiating to the other words. The meaning of a word can affect another, radiate on another as it were, and therefore modify its meaning. The French philosopher Henri Maldiney elaborates on this use of words in poetry and how it differs from the ordinary use: ‘If words in language have no neighbours, if in discourse they are in mutual servitude along the co-ownership regime of the sentence, in the poetic sequence their relations are of pure neighbourhood.’9 According to Maldiney, words in poetry are autonomous, they are not ruled by the grammatical necessity of syntax. In an everyday sentence, the relation between two words is defined by their grammatical functions: subject, object, verb, etc. In contrast, in poetry the relation between words is independent of grammar; it is a ‘relation of pure neighbourhood’ in the sense that it is the proximity between two words which creates an association, which makes sense, which creates meaning, rather than their grammatical functions. Poetry brings to the fore this aspect of language, according to which there is a radiation of meaning from every word. A word in a poem radiates and, by doing so, irradiates its neighbours. This radiation is what I would call a ‘semantic contamination:’ the meaning of a word in poetry contaminates its neighbours. Although Maldiney considers this contamination to be a feature specific to poetic language only, I would argue that ordinary language also presents such a contamination: puns, jokes, and many aspects of our everyday use of language are examples of it. It is a feature of language altogether which poets use to a wider extent, but which is at work in our everyday use of language. Inasmuch as poetic language is not separate from ordinary language, ‘semantic contamination’ belongs to both poetic and ordinary uses of language. Such a contamination is sometimes a ground for misunderstanding and it is also what is at play in Max Black’s interactionist view of metaphor: in a metaphor words interact in such a way that one word’s meaning modifies the other, and his understanding of metaphor is not limited to poetic language but also appears in everyday

182  Philip Mills idioms.10 The radiation of words in every direction makes us perceive the words differently, gives them a different meaning, brings us to another interpretation. Although Nietzsche is rather critical of words and concepts in On Truth and Lie, this does not mean that he cannot use words to overcome these critical aspects. On the contrary, Nietzsche – and the poet of whom he attempts to recreate the style – uses words in order to create new meanings and values. Words are therefore not only considered negatively as they can be used in a creative way, but the blind following of the ordinary use of words – that is for Nietzsche the following of the established moral and social order – needs to be overcome. The creative use of words, like in poetry, is a way to contest the ordinary order. Many avant-garde art movements, for instance, contest the established order by contesting the established language. Hugo Ball’s critique of the words in his Dada Manifesto is a perfect example of it: ‘I don’t want words that other people have invented. All the words are other people’s inventions. I want my own stuff, my own rhythm, and vowels and consonants too, matching the rhythm and all my own.’11 Ball considers that the words have been contaminated because they help to sustain the bourgeois order, and thus the bourgeois definition of art he aims to disturb. The creation of new words and new uses for words is a way for him to overcome this established bourgeois order and its related definition of art. Within the aphorisms, words can therefore contaminate each other in a poetic fashion. But this contamination also occurs among the aphorisms where their succession plays a role. To discuss this idea, Wittgenstein further describes aphorisms with a strange metaphor of raisins and cake: Raisins may be the best part of a cake; but a bag of raisins is not better than a cake; & someone who is in a position to give us a bag full of raisins still cannot bake a cake with them, let alone do something better. I am thinking of Kraus & his aphorisms, but of myself too & my philosophical remarks. A cake is not as it were: thinned out raisins. (CV, 76) For Wittgenstein, aphorisms and remarks are like raisins in a cake, and raisins alone are not sufficient to bake a cake. Wittgenstein expresses here the same problems of expression as those from the preface to the Philosophical Investigations: his incapability to write a book. The remarks he writes do not amount to a book in the sense already discussed of thoughts that ‘proceed from one subject to another in a natural, smooth sequence.’ This does not mean however that aphorisms and remarks cannot form a coherent whole. Wittgenstein spends quite some time arranging and rearranging his remarks and Nietzsche has similar concerns with his collection

Philosophical Style  183 of aphorisms. Collections of aphorisms are compositions in which the meaning of an aphorism will influence another. The same ‘semantic contamination’ occurs between aphorisms as it does between words. Such a contamination occurs within Nietzsche’s collection of aphorisms, and Wittgenstein’s description of his remarks as ‘jumping’ from one another in the preface to the Philosophical Investigations is a way of saying that the organisation of the remarks functions by making meanings jump from one remark to another. While this remark can apply to the Philosophical Investigations on which Wittgenstein constantly worked until reaching an almost final version, and hence shows an attention to the order of the remarks as significant as in Nietzsche’s case, it needs to be nuanced regarding Wittgenstein’s collections of remarks that have been edited posthumously, such as Culture and Value. That the meaning of aphorisms and remarks is related to the surrounding ones brings the notion of interpretation to the fore. Indeed, it is the interpretative task which reveals the connections between aphorisms. This notion of interpretation is central to Nietzsche’s understanding of the aphorism as he describes it in the preface to The Genealogy of Morals: In other cases, the aphoristic form presents problems: this stems from the fact that nowadays this form is not taken seriously enough. An aphorism, honestly cast and stamped, is still some way from being ‘deciphered’ once it has been read; rather, it is only then that its interpretation can begin, and for this an art of interpretation is required. In the third essay of this book I have offered a model for what I mean by ‘interpretation’ in such a case—the essay opens with an aphorism and is itself a commentary upon it. Admittedly, to practise reading as an art in this way requires one thing above all, and it is something which today more than ever has been thoroughly unlearnt—a fact which explains why it will be some time before my writings are ‘readable’—it is something for which one must be practically bovine and certainly not a ‘modern man:’ that is to say, rumination… (GM 1996, Preface §8/KSA 5.255–6) An aphorism cannot be read quickly; the reader needs to ‘decipher’ it, to interpret it, in order to understand it. A specific style, a specific writing calls for a specific reading. One cannot run through the aphorism if one aims to understand it. Digesting aphorisms takes time and this digestion process is one of interpretation. The right style calls for the right reader and the right reading. For Nietzsche, aphorisms require slow readers who are ready to actively engage with the text, interpreting it, rather than receiving it passively.

184  Philip Mills Wittgenstein too asks for slow readers who do not rush through the text: ‘Really I want to slow down the speed of reading with continual punctuation marks. For I should like to be read slowly. (As I myself read.)’ (CV, 77). For Wittgenstein, the purpose of punctuation is to slow down the readers. The form he uses, that of remarks, could be seen as inviting a fast reading, jumping from one remark to another as the remarks themselves jump from one theme to another. If one did so, many of Wittgenstein’s remarks would appear rather trivial and uninteresting. To the contrary, the careful reading that Wittgenstein calls for directs the reader’s attention to the words themselves, and we have seen that this focus on words is an important aspect of Nietzsche’s and Wittgenstein’s styles. Nietzsche and Wittgenstein therefore share a common concern with style that highlights some of their views on language and on the task of philosophy. Rather than rejecting the poetic as many philosophers have done, they consider to the contrary that philosophy can gain something from using the full range of linguistic possibilities. In their works, using this full range of possibilities leads them to write aphorisms and remarks, short forms of writing that share some characteristics with poetry. Their style is poetic in the etymological sense of poiesis: their style is a making. Insofar as style and philosophy are bound to one another, their concern with style reflects some of their philosophical concerns, as Nietzsche’s ‘multifarious art of style’ reflects his perspectivism and Wittgenstein’s careful choice of words reflects the idea of the importance of the positions of words in understanding a sentence. Against the idea that philosophy should avoid style, Nietzsche and Wittgenstein show and enact that style is central to philosophical understanding. Notes 1 This line of thought that traverses the whole history of philosophy up to some trends in analytic philosophy can already be found in Aristotle who criticises Heraclitus for being obscure: ‘What is written should generally be easy to read and easy to speak—which is the same thing. Use of many connectives does not have this quality, nor do phrases not easily punctuated, for example, the writings of Heraclitus. To punctuate the writings of Heraclitus is a difficult task because it is unclear what goes with what, whether with what follows or with what precedes.’ Aristotle 2007, 208, 1407b11–18. 2 Verene 2006, 92. 3 Frank 1999, 146. 4 Hegel 2008, 14. 5 More than merely stating a relation between style and subjectivity, Wittgenstein’s remark suggests that such a relation is one of picturing. There is a richness to the concept of picture in Wittgenstein that I cannot discuss extensively here, especially in relation to his ‘picture theory of meaning’ in the Tractatus, see Plourde 2017. The notion remains central to the later works as David Egan

Philosophical Style  185 for instance suggests that the term picture plays a foundational role in Wittgenstein’s later philosophy, see Egan 2011. 6 Schulte 1990, 60–61. My translation: ‘Unter dem Stil des Denkens versteht Wittgenstein nicht nur die Art und Weise oder die Technik der Überlegung bzw. die Form ihrer Darstellung, sondern der in diesem Sinne aufgefasste Stil bestimmt in gewissem Masse auch, was als möglicher Gegenstand des Denkens vorkommen kann, denn dieser Stil prägt die Verfahrensweisen des Untersuchens und Begründens.’ 7 To that extent, what Stegmaier says about Nietzsche’s philosophy as giving signs rather than doctrines could also be applied to Wittgenstein. Stegmaier, ‘Nietzsche’s Doctrines, Nietzsche’s Signs’. This idea that philosophy aims at effecting change can be coined in the idea that philosophy is a therapeutic activity, a characterisation that has been applied both to Nietzsche and to Wittgenstein but mainly separately. Peterman 1992; Ahern 1995; Ure 2008; Mills 2019. 8 Kanterian 2012, 129. 9 Maldiney 2012, 57. My translation: ‘Si les mots en langue sont sans voisinage, si dans le discours ils sont en servitude mutuelle selon le régime de la copropriété de la phrase, dans la séquence poétique leurs rapports sont de pur voisinage.’ 10 Black 1955. 11 Ball 2011, 128.

References Ahern, D.R. (1995). Nietzsche as Cultural Physician, University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press. Aristotle (2007). On Rhetoric: A Theory of Civic Discourse, tr. G. A. Kennedy, New York: Oxford University Press. Ball, H. (2011). ‘Dada Manifesto’, in: Danchev, A. (2011), ed., 100 Artists’ Manifestos: From the Futurists to the Stuckists, London: Penguin Books, M25. Black, M. (1955). ‘Metaphor’, Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society 55, no. 1: 273–294. Egan, D. (2011). ‘Pictures in Wittgenstein’s Later Philosophy’, Philosophical Investigations 34 (1): 55–76. Frank, M. (1999). ‘Style in Philosophy: Part I’, Metaphilosophy 30, no. 3 Hegel, G.W.F. (2008). Outlines of the Philosophy of Right, ed. Stephen Houlgate, trans. T. M. Knox, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Kanterian, E. (2012). ‘Philosophy as Poetry? Reflections on Wittgenstein’s Style’, Wittgenstein-Studien 3 (1): 95–132. Maldiney, H. (2012). L’art, l’éclair de l’être, ed. C. Chaput et al., Paris: Cerf. Mills, P. (2019). ‘La Philosophie Comme Thérapie Chez Nietzsche et Wittgenstein’, in Die Frage der Medizin in Nietzsches Philosophie / La Question de La Médecine Dans La Philosophie de Nietzsche, ed. Isabelle Wienand and Patrick Wotling, Basel; Berlin: Schwabe Verlag, 347–366. Plourde, J. (2017). ‘Wittgenstein’s Picture Theory and the Distinction between Representing and Depicting’, International Journal of Philosophical Studies 25 (1): 16–39.

186  Philip Mills Schulte, J. (1990). Chor und Gesetz: Wittgenstein im Kontext, Frankfurt am Main: Suhrkamp. Stegmaier, W. (2006). ‘Nietzsche’s Doctrines, Nietzsche’s Signs’, Journal of Nietzsche Studies 31(1): 20–41. Peterman, J.F. (1992). Philosophy as Therapy: An Interpretation and Defense of Wittgenstein’s Later Philosophical Project, Albany, N.Y.: SUNY Press. Ure, M. (2008). Nietzsche’s Therapy: Self-Cultivation in the Middle Works, Lanham: Lexington Books. Verene, D.F. (2006). ‘Philosophical Aesthetics’, Journal of Aesthetic Education 40(4), 89–103.

8 Wittgenstein and Nietzsche on Language and Knowledge Pietro Gori

In Philosophical Investigations, §109, Wittgenstein famously argues that “philosophy is a battle against the bewitchment of our intelligence by means of language”. Similarly, in the Blue Book (27), he observes that “philosophy (…) is the fight against the fascination which forms of expression exert upon us”. In this chapter, I will try to explore to what extent this view of philosophy can be applied to Nietzsche.1 In doing so, it is not my intention to argue that the Nietzschean conception of proper philosophical activity is exhausted by this definition – I am fully aware that Nietzsche’s writings contain much more than a critical reflection on our linguistic engagement with the world and that what he believes philosophy can and should do goes far beyond this thematic framework. On the other hand, however, Nietzsche’s interest in language seems to be a fundamental reference for his considerations on ethics, aesthetics, anthropology, and the like. That is, based on the idea that our experience of states of affairs is constantly translated into a human form of expression which, according to Nietzsche, does not literally reproduce what is described, he deals with language not only to reflect on epistemological issues such as the extent to which we have access to both the outer and the inner world and how we interpret or eventually “know” it, but also to develop further considerations on the role of language in our life. Thus, our philosophical interest in how the forms of expression we ordinarily use shape our world-picture need not be limited to the linguistic investigation that seems to characterize Wittgenstein’s approach, for it leads us through different paths which may also be relevant. In the following pages, I will try to elaborate on this, starting from the apparent agreement between Wittgenstein’s and Nietzsche’s remarks on the function and value of language, knowledge, and truth. I would like to make it clear that my aim is not to find direct correspondences between their views but only to explore issues that Nietzsche and Wittgenstein seem to have addressed in comparable – and sometimes even consistent – ways.

DOI: 10.4324/9781003219071-11

188  Pietro Gori The philosophical dialogue between Nietzsche and Wittgenstein that I will attempt to outline in the following sections will be structured as follows. In Section 1, I will deal with Nietzsche’s criticism of the traditional philosophical approach and will explore the basic tenets of his reflections on language. Section 2 will provide a tentative comparison between these reflections and how Wittgenstein approached the issue of language in The Blue and Brown Books, Philosophical Investigations, and On Certainty. In Section 3, I will therefore argue that the Nietzschean concept of the “herd perspective” may be interpreted as a Wittgensteinian world-picture or form of life. Finally, Section 4 will be devoted to a tentative approach to the similarity between Wittgenstein’s and Nietzsche’s views of language and knowledge in light of the broad pragmatist strategy that can be attributed to their philosophical attitudes. 1 On the Prejudices of Philosophers In his late period (1885–1888), Nietzsche was especially concerned with the prejudiced view held by the philosophers of his time. For him, their prejudice consisted in attributing a greater value to “truth” than to “illusion” – in devaluing the world of the appearances, the world of our actual experience, as a fabricated and misleading picture of a realm of pure essences with reference to which the value of those appearances was supposed to be assessable. As Nietzsche argues in BGE 2002, §2, “the prejudice by which metaphysicians of all ages can be recognized” is typified by the view that “things of the highest value must have another, separate origin of their own – they cannot be derived from this ephemeral, seductive, deceptive, lowly world, from this mad chaos of confusion and desire”. As he continues, “from these ‘beliefs’ they try to acquire their ‘knowledge,’ to acquire something that will end up being solemnly christened as ‘the truth’”. The metaphysicians believe especially “in opposition of values”; i.e. they pretend that “true” and “false”, as well as “good” and “bad”, “beautiful” and “ugly”, etc., are radically contraposed. Moreover, they argue that these contrapositions can be justified with reference to a context that is separate from that of the evaluation itself. “But”, Nietzsche continues, we can doubt, first, whether opposites even exist and, second, whether the popular valuations and value oppositions that have earned the metaphysicians’ seal of approval might not only be foreground appraisals. Perhaps they are merely provisional perspectives, perhaps they are not even viewed head-on (BGE §2). The aim of the “new breed of philosophers” foretold by Nietzsche (ibid.) is therefore to deal with these fundamental prejudices – and to finally be rid of them. Furthermore, Nietzsche deplores the philosophers’ “lack of historical sense, (…) their hatred of the very idea of becoming” (TI 2005, “Reason” 1).

Wittgenstein and Nietzsche on Language and Knowledge  189 Philosophers – especially metaphysicians – fail to see that concepts do not have a fixed meaning, that they are the product of an historical and cultural development, and that their value resides precisely in this. On the contrary, the Western tradition attributed great value to those features that were believed to stand still, eternally stuck in a state of unchanging perfection. But this is a mere illusion for Nietzsche, for he thinks that the things we pretend to “know” and the values we pretend to be the principles of our judgements are in fact a mere product of our valuational perspectives (individual, human, cultural, etc.). In Nietzschean terms, we might say that the “eternal idols” we fervently believe in are merely an expression of our creative engagement with the world, and the reason we believe in them is the important role they have played in the natural and cultural history of mankind (cf. e.g. HH 1996 I, §16 and GS 2001, §110). Furthermore, these idols have no hidden essence, nothing that could justify their value once and for all. They are in fact hollow, and Nietzsche argues that, as a philosopher, one should reveal this lack of content by sounding them out (TI, Preface). The revaluation of all values of which Nietzsche speaks, for example, in the Genealogy of Morals and Twilight of the Idols may be interpreted accordingly, as an attempt to provide a historico-critical analysis of the “old truths” that constitute the frame of reference of our being-in-theworld and, consequently, to reassess the value of the principles of our world-description based on a non-essentialist justification of their meaning. But this can be done only by genealogically tracing the origin of our evaluations and examining their natural and cultural foundation. In fact, this seems to be the only way for us to appreciate the “fluidity” of both the form and the meaning of most of the concepts we use daily, the historical and perspectival character of which we have forgotten (cf. GM 2006, II, §12). How might this premise be relevant to an investigation into Wittgenstein and Nietzsche, and how is it related to their view of language? First, we can appreciate the apparent agreement between the philosophical approach to the ordinary depiction of the world which Nietzsche tries to outline in his late works and Wittgenstein’s description of philosophy as a “fight against the fascination which our forms of expression exert upon us”. Second, it should be recalled that for Nietzsche, the world-picture we assume as the background of our engagement with the world is couched in language – and sometimes even depends on it. In Twilight of the Idols, for example, Nietzsche decries language for introducing us to a mindset where we cannot avoid making use of unity, identity, permanence, substance, and all the metaphysical entities made up by the prejudice of reason (TI, “Reason” 5). And this is not limited to the ontological plane. On the contrary, Nietzsche’s concern with how we depict states of affairs is focused on the general dogmatic approach that he considers to be the most distinct trait

190  Pietro Gori of Western philosophy. For him, the “seduction of grammar” has influenced our overall conception of the world and drove the philosophers to speculate on the actual existence of substance entities and absolute values (cf. BGE, Preface). As a result, we believe our world to be as we categorize it; we believe it to be understandable and knowable when we reduce its features into restricted artificial dichotomies such as “subject and object”, “cause and effect”, “good and bad”, etc. But this, for Nietzsche, is a terrible mistake, for we basically mistake a human representation of the world for a truthful explanation of it. In other words, we treat our human, all-too-human “criterion of truth” as a “criterion of reality”, and the “categories of reason” as much more than a mere “adjustment of the world for utilitarian ends” (PF 1888, 14[153]). On the contrary, Nietzsche maintains that what we ordinarily call “truths” are only conventional and provisional resting points in our active relationship with the world, which is biology- and culture-laden.2 A deeper exploration of this issue may reveal further features that Nietzsche’s view apparently shares with Wittgenstein’s. When Nietzsche reflects on the origin of our world-picture in the first edition of The Gay Science, he famously observes that during the evolutionary history of mankind the intellect produced nothing but errors; some of them turned out to be useful and species-preserving. (…) Such erroneous articles of faith were passed on by inheritance further and further, and finally almost become part of the basic endowment of the species (GS §110). These “basic errors” have been “incorporated since time immemorial”, and consequently “even in knowledge those propositions became the norms according to which one determined ‘true’ and ‘untrue’” (ibid.). However, “the strength of knowledge lies not in its degree of truth, but in its age, its embeddedness, its character of condition of life” (ibid.). Accordingly, in Human, All Too Human Nietzsche remarks that that which we now call the world is the outcome of a host of errors and fantasies which have gradually arisen and grown entwined with one another in the course of the overall evolution of the organic being, and are now inherited by us as the accumulated treasure of the entire past – as treasure: for the value of our humanity depends upon it (HH I, §16). Furthermore, Nietzsche maintains that human experience “has gradually become, is indeed still fully in the course of becoming, and should thus not be regarded as a fixed object”, and he therefore argues that the world-picture we refer to as the background of our practical activity is in fact a product of our experience itself: We have for millennia made moral, aesthetic, religious demands on the world, [and it] has gradually become so marvellously variegated, frightful, meaningful, soulful, it has acquired colour – but we have been the colourists: it is the human intellect that has made appearance appear and transported its erroneous basic conceptions into things. (…) The [very] idea of the world spun out of intellectual errors we have inherited (ibid.).

Wittgenstein and Nietzsche on Language and Knowledge  191 Our language conveys all this and fixes, once and for all, that inherited world-picture. In fact, Nietzsche argues that the words we use are the expression of an intellectual systematization involving all levels of human engagement with the world (epistemic, moral, aesthetic, etc.). Yet when we use names such as “subject”, “object”, “will”, “cause”, “good”, “bad”, “ugly”, and the like, we ordinarily conceive of them as an adequate expression of a state of affairs, not the result of an ongoing process of depicting world-events. That is, we attribute the greatest value to these concepts and to the dichotomies they imply while at the same time devaluing our actual experience as a merely “apparent” realm (cf. TI, “True World”). Why is this? Why – to use Nietzsche’s words – has man “for long ages believed in the concepts and names of things as in aeternae veritates”, pretending “that in language he possessed knowledge of the world” (HH I, §11)? Why was “the sculptor of language (…) not so modest as to believe that he was only giving things designations”, instead believing “that with words he was expressing supreme knowledge of things” (ibid.)? Nietzsche gave some thought to these questions in the 1873 unpublished writing On Truth and Lie in an Extra-Moral Sense, which is worth considering in order to glean further elements that may allow us to compare Wittgenstein and Nietzsche on language.3 In On Truth and Lie, Nietzsche conveys his critical attitude towards the idea that language is “the full and adequate expression of all realities” (TL 1999, 143). For him, language is only a matter of legislation; its origins rest in the establishment of conventions and designations which might be fruitful for the preservation of social groups (ibid.). Within this picture, words are mere “tokens of designation”, and what counts as the “truth” and a “lie” depends on how we use these tokens (ibid.). Nietzsche further defends the metaphorical value of “truths”, insofar as they are the mere translation of neural stimulations into concepts “which, after they have been in use for a long time, strike a people as firmly established, canonical, and binding” (TL, 146).4 Notably, Nietzsche conceives of this translation as a creative determination and not as the sort of direct mirroring that is at work in the correspondence conception of truth endorsed by common sense naïve realism (cf. HH I, §11). Nietzsche is quite clear on this and argues, for example, that “where words are concerned, what matters is never truth, never the full and adequate expression” (TL, 144). Furthermore, he remarks that truthfulness is only a moral obligation imposed by society, “i.e. the obligation to use the customary metaphors, or (…) firmly established conventions” (TL, 146). But if our judgements are based on social or cultural agreement, then, contrary to what is ordinarily believed, the value of truth and lies is not fixed and unchanging, but rather depends on the context within which these evaluations are made.

192  Pietro Gori 2 Family Resemblances Elaborating on what has been explored thus far, we can now tentatively compare Nietzsche’s view with Wittgenstein’s. As a preliminary remark, we can say that the frameworks underlying their interest in language are quite different, for likewise are their aims. In particular, one might argue that Nietzsche’s engagement with the value and function of language should be seen as part of his overall diagnosis of the anthropological degeneration of Western society (cf. e.g. GM, Preface and III, §§24–27; BGE §203; and Schacht 2006), while for Wittgenstein language is of primary interest to philosophical investigation.5 In addition, Nietzsche seems to be convinced that inquiry into the origin of the intellectual “articles of faith” reproduced by our language may allow us to counter the dogmatic worldview. That is, Nietzsche is especially interested in stressing how the forms of expression we use arose, because he believes it to be crucial to his philosophical project that we disclose the actual role they played (and continue to play) in our engagement with the world, namely as nothing more than fruitful means of communication with no metaphysical value. Wittgenstein may agree with this conclusion, but at the same time he seems to give few or even no emphasis to such a genealogical examination, also arguing that it is not explanation that should interest us but description alone (PI §§109 and 126). In On Certainty, §559, Wittgenstein remarks that “the languagegame (…) is there – like our life” and maintains that our aim as philosophers is only to reflect on how language works and “how the concepts that make up the different regions of our language actually function” (McGinn 1997, 13; cf. also Gray 2012, 115). With that said, if we look at Wittgenstein’s and Nietzsche’s general approaches to language as a phenomenon pertaining to each of us as human beings in relations with each other, we may find comparable features at the basis of their philosophical views. For example, both Wittgenstein and Nietzsche agree that language is an instrument for communication and that the meaning of the words we use lacks an essentialist foundation. Similarly to what Nietzsche argues, for example, in On Truth and Lie, right after the remark on philosophy as a fight against the fascination exerted upon us by our forms of expression, in the Blue Book Wittgenstein states that “words have those meanings which we have given them” (BBB, 27), and a few pages later he reiterates that “a word hasn’t got a meaning given to it, as it were, by a power independent of us (…). A word has the meaning someone has given to it” (BBB, 28). It should also be noted that, for Wittgenstein, the meaning of a word originates in its use in practice, and the word itself is like “a label [which] would only have a meaning to us in so far as we made a particular use of it” (BBB, 69). By focusing on the practical foundation of meaning, Wittgenstein further argues that it may occur that,

Wittgenstein and Nietzsche on Language and Knowledge  193 impressed by merely seeing a label on a thing, [we] forget that what makes these labels important is their use. In this way we sometimes believe that we have named something when we make the gesture of pointing and utter words like ‘This is…’ (the formula of the ostensive definition). We say we call something ‘toothache,’ and think that the word has received a definite function in the dealings we carry out with language when, under certain circumstances, we have pointed to our cheek and said: ‘This is toothache’. (ibid.)6 Thus, it seems that Wittgenstein and Nietzsche would have agreed that meaning is something that we attribute to words and that it does not depend on the adequacy of each word to convey the object it denotes (cf. e.g. OC §191). On the contrary, we should “think of words as instruments characterized by their use” (BBB, 67; cf. PI §569) and conceive of the meaning of a word only as “a kind of employment of it” (OC §61), trying not to be deceived by their practical fruitfulness as means of communication. But this is what in fact happens, as both Nietzsche and Wittgenstein remark. That is, “we easily forget how much a notation, a form of expression, may mean to us” (BBB, 57), and consequently we forget that the “truths” we rely on are in fact illusions (TL, 146). Therefore, we ordinarily – although erroneously – believe that great value attaches to our language, as if with words we could establish a definition (i.e., a function) once and for all. But meanings have no fixed character at all. Rather, they change; they are flexible, fluid. Nietzsche expresses this by talking of a “mobile army of metaphors” (my emphasis), while Wittgenstein observes that “the meanings of words change with the concepts”, which may themselves change “[w]hen language-games change” (OC §65; cf. also BBB 67).7 We can understand this view as the principle of a shared philosophical project aimed at stressing the merely instrumental value of language and of words, i.e. notations, i.e. “forms of expression” – one that allows humankind to look at the world in an unprejudiced way. This leads us to another important feature that can be found in both Wittgenstein’s and Nietzsche’s reflections, that is, a view of language as the background of our practical engagement with the world – the background of our evaluations and actions, of our epistemic and practical behaviour. As is well known, Wittgenstein calls this “substratum of all my enquiring and asserting” a “world-picture” (Weltbild; OC §162), further arguing that it is something that we do not invent on our own but rather learn in childhood.8 It is the “matter-of course foundation” of how we look at the world and practically engage it (OC §167), “the conceptual environment within which we live” and which “provides the criteria of correctness” for our judgements.9 It is a neutral – i.e. neither true nor false – framework of

194  Pietro Gori reference for our knowledge claims, the realm of certainty, which Wittgenstein contrasts with knowledge (cf. OC §205). At the same time, however, each world-picture has its own origin; that is, the “inherited background against which I distinguish between true and false” (OC §94) must be the product of a natural, historical, or cultural development – and for this reason it must be value-laden. I would like to stress this point because I think that, although Nietzsche’s sensibility to epistemological concerns such as the difference between “certainty” and “knowledge” was not as sharp as Wittgenstein’s, and given that both their aims and the background of their philosophical investigations differed, one can argue that their views on the linguistic framework of our engagement with the world do converge on some important details, which are therefore worth considering in detail. For example, it could be argued that the Wittgensteinian concept of a “world-picture” can be applied properly to Nietzsche’s view in Human, all too Human and The Gay Science. As noted above, the intellectual representation of a state of affairs is described by Nietzsche as a picturing activity that is based on the human perspective. Nietzsche indeed stresses that “we are the colourists” of the marvellous painting that is our world of representation, whose traits replicate our “moral, aesthetic, and religious demands” (HH I, §16). This conceptual framework is in fact, for Nietzsche, the inherited background of our further evaluations, which of course presupposes a series of judgements on which we instinctively rely. Although it would be wrong to say that this view is a proper anticipation of Wittgenstein’s ideas, given the subtle and yet relevant differences between them, the similarity between Nietzsche’s remarks on the human world of representations and Wittgenstein’s conception of a “world-picture” is nevertheless palpable. This resemblance can be further appreciated if we compare OC §94 with the above-considered §110 of The Gay Science, where Nietzsche refers to the basic intellectual errors inherited by humankind as “the norms according to which one determined ‘true’ and ‘untrue’”. GS §354 is also significant, for in this aphorism Nietzsche traces the origin of consciousness and language to our instinctive need for communication, arguing that we can only access the world from what he calls “the herd perspective”. In fact, it could be argued that the herd perspective can be interpreted as a Wittgensteinian world-picture or form of life – as I will try to show in the next section. 3 The Herd Perspective as a Form of Life In his 2017 paper The Epistemological Investigations of On Certainty, Michael Kober argues that, for Wittgenstein, “the notion of world picture describes a familiar cultural or anthropological phenomenon: the intuitive,

Wittgenstein and Nietzsche on Language and Knowledge  195 practical (cf. OC §§103, 167; PI §129) rather than discursive sharing of views exhibited in customs or institutions somehow overlapping, supporting, or supplementing each other (OC §§102, 275, 281, 298)”.10 Kober further observes that a world-picture is not necessarily a theory of the world, although it guides the behaviour of those holding fast to it. (…) A world-picture serves as a basis, a foundation (Grundlage, OC §167) or a ‘point of departure’ (OC §105) of a community’s looking at the world, though it contains both certainties and knowledge claims resting on them” (Kober 2017, 450). Moreover, Kober helps us to better appreciate the notion of a “form of life”, which is related to Wittgenstein’s reflection on language, insofar as the latter argues that “the speaking of language is part of an activity, or of a form of life” (PI §23, cf. PI §19). As Kober remarks, for Wittgenstein “forms of life consist of a plurality of language-games. They are not related to individual performers, but require a community sharing practices, customs, uses, institutions. (…) The notion of a form of life describes, or labels, the setting in which language-games are practiced, i.e., the concept of a practice or a language-game has to be linked with the concept of a community”.11 Finally, Kober deals with Wittgenstein’s conception of certainty by focusing on its groundedness in shared practices and thus its relation to “a community or a form of life whose members are engaged in these practices”.12 For Kober, in the notes in On Certainty Wittgenstein aims to explore “the epistemic foundations of our practices” and to contextualize “our knowledge and our certainty within our practices”. Therefore, certainty should be seen not as a strict indubitability but rather as “what is (…) not doubted within ongoing acting”.13 “Certainties”, Kober continues, “induce you to follow them, if you want to participate in certain practices of one community or another – that is, they determine your acting if you want to communicate with others”.14 I will use these definitions of the mutually related notions of a world-picture, languagegames, forms of life, and certainty as a reference for my further remarks.15 In what follows, I will focus in particular on the relationship between these notions and their social or communitarian framework, in an attempt to argue that this may be a crucial element of comparison between Wittgenstein’s and Nietzsche’s view of language and knowledge. Before turning to Nietzsche’s GS §354, let me just add a few considerations on the Wittgensteinian concept of a “form of life”, which will be relevant to the comparison I would like to suggest. Following Cavell (1989), Daniel Whiting argues that “one can distinguish ‘vertical’ and ‘horizontal’ senses of ‘form of life’. The vertical, broadly-speaking biological, sense concerns the life form all human beings share, with all its physiological peculiarities. (…) The horizontal, broadly-speaking social, sense concerns ways of life, which humans might or might not share”.16 As Whiting further remarks, Wittgenstein seems to view language-games as

196  Pietro Gori depending on certain “very general facts of nature” (PPF §365), but also on “a whole culture”’ (APR, 8). They are therefore an expression of perspectival viewpoints which “reflect their participants’ sense for what is or is not important”, and, most significantly, they can change depending on the framework in which they are based. Wittgenstein in fact remarks that “an education quite different from ours might be the foundation of quite different concepts” (Z §387) and that “an entirely different game is played in different ages” (APR, 8; I owe both references to Whiting). Thus, Wittgenstein seems to endorse a relativistic conception of judgement – but not in the detrimental sense of a complete lack of principles of judgement. The relativization in fact concerns only the foundation of our truth- (or value-) claims, which are not fixed, as has traditionally been thought.17 Couched in the actual use we make of our language, the meaning of words is fluid, for Wittgenstein: “When language-games change, then there is a change of concepts, and with the concepts the meanings of the words change” (OC §65, cf. also BBB, 56, 67, and 69). Therefore, our certainties themselves, i.e. the inherited background of the truth-values we attribute to states of affairs, aren’t fixed at all, for they reflect a context that can change both synchronically (different frames of reference or language-games may exist at the same time) and diachronically (the rules of a language-game may change at different times). As I will try to show, it is possible to ascribe to the herd perspective that Nietzsche outlines in GS §354 almost all of the abovementioned features that pertain to forms of life. In that text, Nietzsche conceives of consciousness as the product of the biological history of humankind, arguing that “consciousness has developed only under the pressure of the need to communicate”. He further argues that “consciousness is really just a net connecting one person with another. (…) Consciousness was necessary, was useful, only between persons (…) and it has developed only in proportion to that usefulness” (GS §354). Nietzsche’s fundamental idea is that thinking is an activity that takes place at the unconscious level, independently of our being aware of it. In fact, he argues that we are unaware of most of our thought, while “the thinking which becomes conscious is only the smallest part of it (…) – for only that conscious thinking takes place in words, that is, in communication symbols [Mittheilungszeichen]. (…) In short, the development of language and the development of consciousness (…) go hand in hand” (GS §354). This is already of some interest for our purposes here; indeed, it allows us to argue that Nietzsche agrees with Wittgenstein that we should give thought to the social foundation of our linguistic practices, focusing especially on how language works as a means of communication. Nietzsche indeed remarks that “language serves as a bridge between persons”, also claiming that this connection is made possible through the invention of “signs” (Zeichen), i.e. words. Thus, the aforementioned

Wittgenstein and Nietzsche on Language and Knowledge  197 instrumentalist view of language seems to be reiterated here. But the most important observation, to my mind, can be found in what Nietzsche goes on to argue, namely that consciousness actually belongs not to man’s existence as an individual but rather to the community- and herd-aspects of his nature; that accordingly, it is finely developed only in relation to its usefulness to community or herd; and that consequently each of us (…) will always bring to consciousness precisely that in ourselves which is “non-individual”, that which is “average”; that due to the nature of consciousness (…) our thoughts themselves are continually as it were outvoted and translated back into the herd perspective. (GS §354) How we look at the world is therefore couched in an inherited background which has been naturally selected along the history of humankind because of its fruitfulness for the preservation of the species (we may want to avoid utilitarian language). Nietzsche appears to be arguing something even subtler, however. He mentions not only the community but the herd, a crucial concept in Nietzsche’s critical engagement with European-Christian morality. He in fact repeatedly deplores the detrimental effect morality has had on the development of the human type (GM, Preface §6), given that it brought about the “degeneration and diminution of humanity into the perfect herd animal” (BGE §203; cf. also BGE §§199, 201 and 202). Therefore, the herd perspective is not at all a neutral frame of reference. On the contrary, it is value-laden, which means that any judgement we are capable of pronouncing is morally oriented, and it may take significant effort for us (philosophers) to win the fight against the forms of expression that determine our cultural framework. Given what has been shown thus far, the similarities between the Wittgensteinian conceptions of a “world-picture” and a “form of life” and the Nietzschean “herd perspective” are evident.18 Nietzsche describes the frame of reference of our being in the world by stressing the influence of our need for communication on its development. Conscious thinking arises both as a natural, i.e. biological, feature and as a social one. It embeds a well-defined attitude towards the world which can be properly described as a cultural or anthropological phenomenon that guides the behaviour of those who hold fast to it.19 The herd perspective is thus the “point of departure” of a community’s perspective on the world, a viewpoint which finds expression in the language we use. In fact, Nietzsche seems to endorse Wittgenstein’s view that “the speaking of language is part of an activity, or of a form of life” (PI §23). Most importantly, he is especially concerned with the social features lying at the origin of the herd perspective, in a way

198  Pietro Gori which resembles Wittgenstein’s approach to language and language-games. Indeed, we can apply to Nietzsche’s herd perspective the same remarks that Kober makes regarding forms of life: the herd perspective, too, is “not related to individual performers, but require[s] a community sharing practices, customs, uses, institutions. (…) [It] describes, or labels, the setting in which language-games are practiced”.20 There is one final aspect to be considered and which may ultimately allow us to conclude that the herd perspective can in fact be interpreted as a Wittgensteinian form of life: the contextualization of knowledge within the human world-picture and the consequent revaluation of the value of “truth” which is implied in Nietzschean perspectivism.21 In the final part of GS §354, Nietzsche provides us with the only proper definition of perspectivism that can be encountered in his published writings:22 “This is what I consider to be true phenomenalism and perspectivism: that due to the nature of animal consciousness, the world of which we can become ­conscious is merely a surface- and sign-world (…) – that everything which enters consciousness thereby becomes (…) a sign, a herd-mark [Zeichen, Heerden-Merkzeichen]” (GS §354). This is consistent with what has been argued above: we are only conscious of those thoughts that reach the higher (superficial) level of our mental awareness and which are therefore translated into words, i.e. communication symbols or herd-marks.23 These words are the frame of reference of our action and behaviour; they represent the perspective on the world that we, as members of a social or cultural community, share. This is of some interest because, contrary to what Nietzsche remarks in other classic passages devoted to our perspectival engagement with the world (namely PF 1886–1887, 7[60] and GM, III, §12), in GS §354 perspectivism is presented as the shared view of a group of individuals playing the same language-game.24 But it closely resembles what Wittgenstein has in mind when he reflects on the meaningfulness of our linguistic tokens: our individual relationship with the world always depends on shared viewpoints, on the perspective provided by the rules of the language-game we are playing. These premises imply an important consequence: if our engagement with states of affairs can only be perspectival (in the aforementioned sense), if there is no way for us to access the world directly and describe it literally (or “truthfully”, according to the correspondence theory of truth), then our very concept of “knowledge” must be reconceived. Accordingly, in GS §354 Nietzsche argues that “we simply have no organ for knowing, for ‘truth’: we ‘know’ (or believe or imagine) exactly as much as is useful to the human herd, to the species.” By stating this, Nietzsche apparently agrees with Wittgenstein that “knowledge” rests on a different plane than our certainties, i.e. that we can only “distinguish between true and false” against the background we inherit (for example by learning it in our

Wittgenstein and Nietzsche on Language and Knowledge  199 childhood; OC §§94 and 167; GS §110).25 It would therefore be appropriate to give up the ordinary idea of knowledge as an adequate description of the world and instead endorse a contextualist view which focuses on the dependence of our judgements on their frame of reference (whether biological, historical, cultural, etc.).26 That framework is where the languagegame is actually played; therefore, it is only with reference to it that we can assess the meaning of the words we use. As noted above, this implies a relativization of the value of our knowledge claims which does not necessarily lead to nihilism about values, for truth and falsehood can in fact still be adopted as meaningful categories, but only if we conceive of them in a new, re-valued way – that is, only if we view them as the result of perspectival judgements couched in shared linguistic practices (on this, cf. e.g. BGE §34). 4 Pragmatist Humanism What has been argued thus far allows us to offer some closing thoughts on the similarity between Wittgenstein’s and Nietzsche’s views of language and knowledge, which I have tentatively explored in this chapter. What I would like to argue in this final section is that the agreement between their views may be profitably approached by focusing on the broad pragmatist commitment that both seem to endorse, namely the idea that the human viewpoint is the sole reference and actual justification of our judgements.27 Both Nietzsche and Wittgenstein in fact focus on humankind (and its social and cultural dimension) as the frame of reference of our value- and knowledge-claims; they both maintain that what can be assessed as “true” or “false” lies within the human context, within the human perspective, and it is only with reference to our practical activity that our words acquire their meaning. “We behold all things through the human head and cannot cut off this head”, Nietzsche writes in Human, all too Human I, § 9, and in 1887 he reiterates that “we cannot look around the corner” and avoid seeing ourselves under our perspectival forms (GS §374). Although it can be argued that “there might be (…) other kinds of intellects and perspectives”, and therefore that the world “includes infinite interpretations” (ibid.), Nietzsche continues, it would seem that we are stuck within our own perspective or form of life.28 Similarly, for Wittgenstein it is impossible for us to consider our world-picture in a neutral and unprejudiced way:29 as a precondition of our valuational activity, a world-picture cannot be judged as true or correct (OC §162). On the contrary, truth can only be determined within the framework of a language-game, which is a practical framework.30 Therefore, we can agree with Kober that “if one accepts Wittgenstein’s descriptive conception of knowledge, [one must admit that] any question as regards the truth of a sentence or a theory is embedded

200  Pietro Gori within a certain practice”,31 and, consequently, one must consider that practice the sole justification of our knowledge-claims. In a 1992 lecture, Hilary Putnam argued that “even if Wittgenstein was not in the strict sense a ‘pragmatist’ (…), he shares with pragmatism (…) a central – perhaps the central – emphasis: the emphasis on the primacy of practice”.32 Commenting on this, David Backhurst and Cheryl Misak observe that there is indeed a sense in which we may agree with Putnam, given that Wittgenstein invites us to see mind and meaning “in their relation to human activity, as aspects of our natural history. Accordingly, explanation of mind and meaning finds its terminus in an appeal to practice – to custom, traditions, and forms of life.” Furthermore, they argue that “Wittgenstein and the pragmatists are united” in a defence of the view that “we should think of ideas, concepts, beliefs, and theories, not on the model of pictorial representations of reality, but as tools or instruments we deploy in our engagement with the world”.33 But these observations can be applied to Nietzsche as well. As I have tried to show in the previous sections, Nietzsche in fact maintains that the human world-representation – the “apparent” world of our actual knowledge – is the framework we inherit from the historical past of humankind. In addition, he argues that language and especially its tokens are the product of human practices aimed at communication, valuable only as fruitful designations of states of affairs. Finally, one of the basic tenets of Nietzsche’s attempt to develop a new (unprejudiced and anti-dogmatic) philosophical attitude is the idea that if we want to enlighten the various features of human life – and eventually understand them properly – we must deal with their origins as natural and cultural phenomena. That is, we must look at the practical framework of customs, traditions, etc., out of which they arose and with reference to which their significance may be justified. Thus, it is possible to say that both Wittgenstein and Nietzsche defended a form of anti-essentialism about knowledge according to which (i) the meaning of our world can be determined within our world itself and (ii) it is nonsense to search for it beyond the boundaries of our actual experience and practice – i.e. beyond the boundaries of our form of life.34 In a 2012 paper, Sami Pihlström stressed the pragmatist feature of ­Wittgenstein’s view based on a conception of pragmatism which is much more nuanced and philosophically significant than the “mythical ­pragmatism (which the real pragmatists all scorned) which says ‘It’s true (for you) if it is good for you’” (Putnam 1995, 51). For Pihlström (2012, §22), ­pragmatism should be seen first and foremost as an attempt to focus on the ­humanly contextualized word-representation, which is the only one we can develop. We look at the world from our human standpoint and we pronounce our judgements accordingly; therefore, each judgement is ­value-laden, for it depends on the individual (not necessarily subjective,

Wittgenstein and Nietzsche on Language and Knowledge  201 but also social, cultural, etc.) perspective which represents its frame of reference. Therefore, things have no meaning in themselves, independently of our judgement activity; there is no hidden essence which we might grasp, and the only value we can attribute to states of affairs is a human value that can be assessed only within the boundaries of our inherited background. With this definition of pragmatism in mind, Pihlström (2012, §7) finds it “easy to suggest at a general level that Wittgenstein provides us with a ‘pragmatist’ picture of human language-use and meaning”, for his “later philosophy generally can be read as an attempt to show that it is only against the background of our human form(s) of life, our habits of doing various things together in common environments, that meanings are possible”. This pragmatist point, Pihlström continues, “is highlighted by the fact that (…) the notion of language [that appears in Wittgenstein] must be construed (…) as a genuine human practice within the natural world” and that “the possibility of language and meaning is grounded in (…) habits of action whose radical contingency and continuous historical development are among their key features” (Pihlström 2012, §§9 and 39). Finally, Pihlström stresses that Wittgenstein leaves no room for a “higher standpoint for us to adopt than the humanly accessible perspectives internal to our language-games”, an observation which allows us to further compare Wittgenstein’s view with Nietzsche’s and to ascribe to both the pragmatist commitment outlined thus far. As noted above, in reflecting on the herd perspective as the inherited background of all our judgements, Nietzsche indeed remarks that any access to the world as it is in itself is precluded to us, and therefore no “knowledge” is possible – if we conceive of it as an adequate description of the state of affairs. For him, the world we “know” is only a representation based on one among several possible ways of conceptualizing reality. Any attempt to consider our world-picture as the single correct or privileged interpretation of experience is ill-founded, for there is no metaphysical foundation for it, as inquiry into its origin may reveal. But if language does not mirror an independent reality, if our engagement with the world can only be perspectival, should we give up all attempts to provide a meaningful description of it, that is, a description that might be consistently justified? Pragmatist thinkers aim precisely to answer this question in a non-sceptical way, arguing that, although deprived of metaphysical references, we can still assess the value of our judgement claims based on their function. I think that both Nietzsche and Wittgenstein adopted a consistent strategy.35 Indeed, their focus on the human perspective may be seen as an attempt to determine the context within which knowledge claims can be meaningfully assessed, leaving aside any metaphysical foundation that, for them, does not pertain to language.

202  Pietro Gori They indeed maintain that the role that language plays in our practical engagement with the world and in our social activities is the proper background against which we can determine the meaning of the words we use. It is only when a word is actually employed and thus “incorporated into our language” that it becomes meaningful (OC §61; PI §43), but “it is our acting, which lies at the bottom of language-game” (OC §204), the latter being superficial, perspectival –, which means that its significance isn’t grounded on a direct correspondence with the world (GS §354; PI §§92 and 116; OC §§90 and 215). Yet ordinary language deceives us and makes us believe it is the expression of a metaphysical reality. Fascinated by our forms of expression (e.g. because of their practical fruitfulness as a means of communication), we forget that they are the mere product of a natural and historical ongoing process involving a variety of language-games that may themselves change in time (which implies the sort of synchronic and diachronic relativism mentioned in Section 3; on this, cf. e.g. HH I, §16, BBB, 67 and OC §65). The philosophical attitude that Nietzsche and Wittgenstein outline (with the due differences, of course) aims especially to rid us of this fundamental prejudice: by focusing on how language actually works within our lives (cf. e.g. OC §147), we can appreciate what the words we use do in deed mean (OC §342), thus making a crucial strategic move in the battle against the bewitchment of our intelligence by means of language. Notes 1 An early interesting attempt to reflect on the correspondence and terminological coherence between Nietzsche’s view of grammar as the seductor of thought and Wittgenstein’s concern with philosophy in PI §§109 and 110 is provided in Steuer 1995. 2 In the late notebooks, for example, Nietzsche argues that “truth is not something that’s there and must be found out, discovered, but something that must be made and that provides the name for a process (…). Inserting truth as a processus in infinitum, an active determining, not a becoming conscious of something that is ‘in itself’ fixed and determinate” (PF 1887, 9[91]). 3 Relevant studies on Nietzsche’s On Truth and Lie and the beginning of his reflection on language include, e.g., Crawford 1988 and Reuter 2009. 4 On Nietzsche’s view of metaphors and the relationship between language and knowledge, see Emden 2005. 5 I agree with Maria Alvarez and Aaron Ridley that “Nietzsche, unlike Wittgenstein, is not primarily interested in the concepts of understanding, language, meaning, thinking, etc., but in ethics and human excellence, and in the effects that the historical character of our experience has on these. His remarks about language are thus subservient to a quite different sort of project” (Alvarez and Ridley 2005, 12). For that reason, I am not interested in defending any of the four theses that Alvarez and Ridley discuss in their paper and that refer to the general claim that “Nietzsche was more of a Wittgensteinian than he might at

Wittgenstein and Nietzsche on Language and Knowledge  203 first appear” (ibid., 2). Also, I think that it is possible to consistently reflect on the striking resemblances between Nietzsche’s and Wittgenstein’s views (especially on language) without necessarily attempting to either “construe Nietzsche as a proto-Wittgensteinian about language” or argue that these resemblances are an indication that Nietzsche arrived at Wittgenstein’s insights first (ibid., 15). The view that “for Wittgenstein, language is not the means, but the actual object of a philosophical research” is also defended in Steuer 1995, 502. 6 These remarks may be compared with the following passage from TL (145): “We call a man honest; we ask, ‘Why did he act so honestly today?’ Our answer is usually: ‘Because of his honesty.’ Honesty! (…) We have no knowledge of an essential quality which might be called honesty, but we do know of numerous individualized and hence non-equivalent actions which we equate with each other by omitting what is unlike, and which we now designate as honest actions; finally we formulate from them a qualitas occulta with the name ‘honesty’”. 7 Wittgenstein uses the metaphor of fluidity in On Certainty, § 96: “It might be imagined that some propositions, of the form of empirical propositions, were hardened and functioned as channels for such empirical propositions as were not hardened but fluid; and that this relation altered with time, in that fluid proposition hardened, and hard ones became fluid.” Walter Kaufmann stresses this parallel between Nietzsche and Wittgenstein in his edition of Nietzsche’s works. For a discussion on this, cf. Alvarez and Ridley 2005. 8 On Wittgenstein’s “world-picture”, cf. especially Hamilton 2014. 9 Boncompagni 2016, 116–117; cf. also Kober 2017, 450, 453–454. 10 Kober 2017, 450–451. 11 Kober 2017, 449–450. 12 Kober 2017, 449. 13 Kober 2017, 443. 14 Kober 2017, 458–459. 15 As is well known, Wittgenstein conceives of certainties “as a form of life” (OC §358) and as “something that lies beyond being justified or unjustified”, like a world-picture (OC §359). 16 Whiting 2017, 424. 17 On this topic, see Boncompagni 2016, 8 and 123. 18 It is interesting to note that Wittgenstein mentions the herd in an important passage from the Big Typescript (TS 213/423): “Human beings are deeply imbedded in philosophical, i.e. grammatical confusion. And freeing them from these presupposes extricating them from the immensely diverse associations they are caught up in. One must, as it were, regroup their entire language. – But of course this language developed as it did because of human beings had – and have – the tendency to think this way. Therefore extricating them only works with those who live in an instinctive state of dissatisfaction with language. Not with those who, following all of their instincts, live within the very herd that has created this language as its proper expression.” It is clear how this passage is relevant for this chapter. In a paper devoted to that text, Stefan Majetschak comments that “Wittgenstein’s clear and direct reference to Nietzsche is astonishing; it can hardly be considered a mere coincidence of words and thoughts, of which Wittgenstein could be unaware” (Majetschak 2006, 73. A translation of this paper is also published in this volume). As an explanation, Majetschak argues that Wittgenstein could have encountered references to Nietzsche’s view

204  Pietro Gori of the issue in the work of Paul Ernst. But it seems to be much more plausible that, in this case, the bridge between Nietzsche and Wittgenstein was Fritz Mauthner, as argued by Janet Lungstrum in a 1995 paper. Indeed, Mauthner’s Beiträge zur einer Kritik der Sprache (1901–1902) and Wörterbuch der Philosophie (1910–1911) “received much public attention during Wittgenstein’s formative years in Vienna“, and in these works Mauthner “publicized an implicitly Nietzschean insistence on the underlying metaphoricity of language” (Lungstrum 1995, 302–303). Most importantly, Lungstrum observes that Mauthner echoes Nietzsche in his own mention of the “herd instinct” (Herdeninstinkt; Mauthner 1906, 90), the “herd language”, and the “herd life” (Herdensprache and Herdenleben; Mauthner 1901–1902, I, 39–40). The latter may be the actual source of Wittgenstein’s remark in TS 213/423, for in that text Mauthner also refers to the human instincts and develops some considerations that are consistent with Wittgenstein’s. In particular, both the authors refer to the herd in a significantly different way than Nietzsche. While that notion is philosophically relevant for Nietzsche, who attributes to the herd a moral value and mentions the herd instinct and the herd animal in crucial passages of his oeuvre, both Mauthner and Wittgenstein talk of the herd as the “average viewpoint” of mankind. This difference in facts reflects the dissimilarity between Nietzsche’s and Wittgenstein’s philosophical projects that, as I have mentioned, undermines any attempt to establish an actual correspondence between their views on language. It might be worth mentioning that the excerpt from TS 213 contains another important element of connection, albeit indirect, between Wittgenstein and Nietzsche, namely Georg Lichtenberg’s remarks on language. In TS 213/422–423, Wittgenstein writes: “Lichtenberg: ‘Our entire philosophy is correction of the use of language, and therefore the correction of a philosophy – of the most general philosophy.’ /…/ You ask why grammatical problems are so tough and seemingly ineradicable. – Because they are connected with the oldest thought habits, i.e. with the oldest images that are engraved into our language itself. ((Lichtenberg))”. For what I could see, this reference remained unnoticed to the scholarship on Nietzsche’s and Wittgenstein’s views of language, but its importance is undisputable, given that Lichtenberg – one of the few authors cited by Wittgenstein in his writings – is a direct source of Nietzsche’s critical remarks on the “seduction of grammar” (GM, I, §13. See also BGE Preface; §§12, 20, 34, and 54; and TI Reason 5. The issue is also addressed in GS §354, where Nietzsche refers to “those epistemologists who have got tangled up in the snares of grammar (the folk metaphysics)”. On Nietzsche and Lichtenberg see e.g. Stingelin 1996, sec. 3.3; Sommer 2016, 54–55). This “missing link” may in fact provide a point of reference for any study devoted to the similarity between Wittgenstein and Nietzsche: by relating both the authors to a third view that inspired them one might solve some of the interpretive problems that still concern the relevant literature. 19 See Kober 2017, 450. 20 Kober 2017, 449–450. 21 In fact, one of the seminal studies devoted to a comparison of Nietzsche and Wittgenstein deals with perspectivism: Wallace 1973. 22 It might be worth remarking that Nietzsche uses the term “Perspektivismus” only once in his published writings, namely in GS §354. Of course, this does not undermine the relevance of the other passages where Nietzsche deals with the perspectival character of life and with perspectival seeing (e.g. BGE, Preface

Wittgenstein and Nietzsche on Language and Knowledge  205 and GM, III, §12), but at the same time I am firmly convinced that how this issue is addressed in The Gay Science is especially significant for appreciating Nietzsche’s view on the issue (I have tried to defend my view, e.g., in Gori 2019a, chap. 3). 23 On Nietzsche’s view of consciousness and his philosophy of mind, see Riccardi 2021. 24 Of course, the perspective addressed in GS §354 is not the only possible viewpoint for humankind. The evolutionary approach to the issue which Nietzsche endorses in that text should not mislead us: the path which led to the herd perspective is only one among several others, each one depending on the environment (biological and/or cultural) that surrounds – and therefore shapes – one’s particular social community. As Nietzsche observes as early as 1873, the actual existence of a variety of languages shows us that states of affairs can be expressed in many ways, which implies that the meaning of the words we use is not an essential property of the world but only the product of a contextual interpretation of it (cf. WL, 144). 25 I am not trying to avoid one of the most delicate questions concerning Nietzsche’s view of knowledge and truth, namely his “falsification thesis”. I simply do not have enough space to deal with it exhaustively. Very briefly, the problem at stake concerns Nietzsche’s coherence in rejecting the idea that we may reach the plane of things in themselves, thus grasping the “true” features of states of affairs, while describing our actual knowledge as an erroneous representation (e.g. HH I, §16 and GS §110) or even a falsification (GS §354) of the events we experience (on this, see Clark 1990, Hussain 2004, Andresen 2013, Nehamas 2015 and 2017). I recently tried to make a case for a fictional realist approach to the issue as a possible way to make sense of Nietzsche’s reiterated criticism of the ordinary approach to truth and the sceptical phenomenalist tenet he endorses. According to the modern fictionalist view, it is possible to take as true a representation the falsehood of which we are conscious. Insofar as it leads to productive results relative to particular interests and scopes, an inaccurate representation can in fact be a fruitful means of orientation, and within these boundaries it can be accepted as veridical, i.e. true enough (cf. on this Teller 2009; Remhof 2016). I am inclined to maintain that Nietzsche’s perspectivism can be interpreted consistently with this view, namely as the idea that the only “knowable” world is (for us) that of useful or regulative fictions, which are literally false but true enough to be accepted as principles of a world-description (cf. Gori 2019b and 2019a, chap. 2, §4). 26 In the Blue Book (25), for example, Wittgenstein argues that “there is no exact usage of the world ‘knowledge’; but we can make up several such usages, which will more or less agree with the ways the word is actually used”. 27 The question of the relation between Wittgenstein and pragmatism and between Nietzsche and pragmatism is an interesting but delicate one, as shown by the relevant literature on the topic. In this section, I will try to explore this relation by dealing with one feature which may be ascribed to pragmatism, without directly comparing either Wittgenstein or Nietzsche to classic pragmatist thinkers such as Charles Peirce, William James, and John Dewey. On this, I have little to add to the existing scholarship, including e.g. Haack 1982; Goodman 1998 and 2002; Bakhurst and Misak 2017; Boncompagni 2016 and 2019; Hingst 1998; Fabbrichesi 2009; Gori 2017 and 2019a. For those who are

206  Pietro Gori interested, the 2012 issue IV/2 of the European Journal of Pragmatism and American Philosophy hosted a symposium on Wittgenstein and Pragmatism. 28 Commenting on the comparison between Wittgenstein and Pragmatism, Anna Boncompagni makes the following interesting remark, which I think may be consistently applied to Nietzsche as well: “What emerges is a new way of conceiving the idea of the beginning of philosophical activity, no longer in need of an absolute primum, but wholly at ease in the framework of a human objectivity, feasible, solid but (and because of its being) to a certain extent changeable” (Boncompagni 2016, 10). 29 See Kober 2017, 465–466. 30 Cf. von Wright 1982, 178: “The fragments of a world-picture underlying the uses of language are not originally and strictly propositions at all. The preknowledge is not propositional knowledge. But if this foundation is not propositional, what then is it? It is, one could say, a praxis” (I owe this quotation to Moyal-Sharrock 2017). As is well known, in On Certainty (§§341–343) Wittgenstein maintains that our epistemic practices rest on non-propositional rules – or hinges, as he calls them – “whose certainty stems from the foundational role they play in given practices” (Salvatore 2018, 251; cf. also Pihlström 2012, sec. 2). On Wittgenstein’s notion of a “form of life” as “a path to evading the epistemic domain” and on the practical nature of certainties, see Boncompagni 2016, 72, 126 and 170. 31 Kober 2017, 465. 32 Putnam 1995, 52. 33 Bakhurst and Misak 2017, 733. 34 Cf. on this Haack 1982, 170 and Gray 2012, 115. 35 Of course, this does not imply that Nietzsche and Wittgenstein may have consistent views on the various aspects which pertain to this particular issue. Their conceptions of the metaphysical value of language itself or of our ordinary commitments towards language may be different, for different are their philosophical sensibilities, as remarked above. Nevertheless, it is possible to ascribe to them a comparable approach, a comparable attitude towards an issue that deeply interested both Nietzsche and Wittgenstein. It is this approach itself which is pragmatist at its very core. Staring at the consequences of anti-essentialist and instrumentalist commitments about evaluation claims, pragmatist thinkers do not give up to relativism. Rather, they search for consistent principles of evaluation in the realm of human praxis, thus providing a practical meaning to something that had eventually lost any metaphysical meaning.

References Alvarez, Maria and Ridley, Aaron (2005). “Nietzsche on Language: Before and After Wittgenstein”, in: Philosophical Topics 33/2, 1–17. Andresen, Joshua (2013). “Nietzsche, Naturalism, and Falsification”, in: Journal of Nietzsche Studies 44/3, 469–481. Bakhurst, David and Misak, Cheryl (2017). “Wittgenstein and Pragmatism”, in: A Companion to Wittgenstein, eds. H.J. Glock and J. Hyman, Chichester: Blackwell, 731–745. Boncompagni, Anna (2016). Wittgenstein and Pragmatism. On Certainty in the Light of Peirce and James, London, Palgrave Macmillan.

Wittgenstein and Nietzsche on Language and Knowledge  207 ———. (2019). “James and Wittgenstein”, in: The Oxford Handbook to William James, ed. A. Klein, Oxford Handbooks Online, DOI: 10.1093/ oxfordhb/9780199395699.013.26 Cavell, Stanley (1989). This New Yet Unapproachable America, Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Clark, Maudemarie (1990). Nietzsche on Truth and Philosophy, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Crawford, Claudia (1988). The Beginning of Nietzsche’s Theory of Language, Berlin/New York: DeGruyter. Emden, Christian (2005). “Nietzsche on Language, Consciousness, and the Body”, Urbana: University of Illinois Press. Fabbrichesi, Rossella (2009). “Nietzsche and James. A Pragmatist Hermeneutics”, European Journal of Pragmatism and American Philosophy 1/1–2, DOI: https:// doi.org/10.4000/ejpap.962 Goodman, Russel B. (1998). “Wittgenstein and Pragmatism“, Parallax 4/4, 91–105. ———. (2002). Wittgenstein and William James, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Gori, Pietro (2017). “Perspectivism, Pragmatism, Anthropology: A Consistent Triad”, in: Internationales Jahrbuch für Philosophische Anthropologie 7, 81–99. ———. (2019a). Nietzsche’s Pragmatism. A Study on Perspectival Thought. Berlin/Boston: DeGruyter. ———. (2019b). “Nietzsche’s Fictional Realism. A Historico-Theoretical Approach”, in: Estetica. Studi e Ricerche 9/1, 169–184. Gray, Jonathan (2012). “Hamann, Nietzsche, and Wittgenstein on the Language of Philosophers”, in: Hamann and the Tradition, ed. L.M. Anderson, Illinois: Northwestern University Press, 104–121. Haack, Robin (1982). “Wittgenstein’s Pragmatism”, in: American Philosophical Quarterly 19, 163–171. Hamilton, Andy (2014). Routledge Philosophy Guidebook to Wittgenstein and On Certainty, London: Routledge. Hingst, Kai-Michael (1998). Perspektivismus und Pragmatismus. Ein Vergleich auf der Grundlage der Wahrheitsbegriffe und der Religionsphilosophien von Nietzsche und James, Würzburg: Königshausen & Neumann. Hussain, Nadeem (2004). “Nietzsche’s Positivism”, in: European Journal of Philosophy 12/3, 326–368. Kober, Michael (2017). “Certainties of a World Picture: The Epistemological Investigations of On Certainty”, in: The Cambridge Companion to Wittgenstein, ed. H. Sluga and D.G. Stern, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 441–478. Lungstrum, Janet (1995). “Wittgenstein and Nietzsche. Agonal Relations in Language”, in: Deutsche Vierteljahrschrift fur Literaturwissenschaft und Geistesgeschichte 44, 300–323. Mauthner, Fritz (1901–1902). Beiträge zur einer Kritik der Sprache, III Bde., Stuttgart und Berlin: J. G. Cottasche Buchhandlung Nachfolger. ———. (1906). Die Sprache, Frankfurt am Main: Rütten & Loening.

208  Pietro Gori Majetschak, Stefan (2006). “Philosophie als Arbeit an sich selbst. Wittgenstein, Nietzsche und Paul Ernst”, in: S. Majetschak (Hgb.). Wittgensteins 'große Maschinenschrift'. Untersuchungen zum philosophischen Ort des “Big Typescripts” (TS 213) im Werk Ludwig Wittgensteins, Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang, 61–78. McGinn, Marie (1997). Routledge Philosophy Guidebook to Wittgenstein and the Philosophical Investigations, London: Routledge. Moyal-Sharrock, Danièle (2017). “Wittgenstein on Knowledge and Certainty”, in: A Companion to Wittgenstein, ed. H.J. Clock and J. Hyman, Oxford: Blackwell, 547–562. Nehamas, Alexander (2015). “Did Nietzsche hold a ‘Falsification Thesis’?”, in: Philosophical Inquiry 39/, 222–236. ———. (2017). “Nietzsche on Truth and the Value of Falsehood”, in: Journal of Nietzsche Studies 48/3, 319–346. Pihlström, Sami (2012). “A New Look at Wittgenstein and Pragmatism”, in: European Journal of Pragmatism and American Philosophy IV/2, DOI: 10.4000/ ejpap.715 Putnam, Hilary (1995). Pragmatism: An Open Question, Oxford: Blackwell. Remhof, Justin (2016): “Scientific Fictionalism and the Problem of Inconsistency in Nietzsche”, in: Journal of Nietzsche Studies 47/2, 238–246. Reuter, Sören (2009). An der “Begräbnissstätte der Anschauung”. Nietzsches Bildund Wahrnehmungstheorie in ‘Ueber Wahrheit und Lüge im aussermoralischen Sinne’, Basel: Schwabe. Riccardi, Mattia (2012). Nietzsche’s Philosophical Psychology, Oxford: Oxford University Press. Salvatore, Nicola Claudio (2018). “On Certainty, Epistemic Incommensurability and Epistemic Relativism”, in: Wittgenstein Studies 9/1, 249–265. Schacht, Richard (2006). “Nietzsche and Philosophical Anthropology”, in: A companion to Nietzsche, ed. K. Ansell-Pearson, Oxford: Blackwell, 115–132. Sommer, Andreas (ed.)(2012). Kommentar zu Nietzsches “Jenseits von Gut und Böse”, Berlin/Boston: De Gruyter. Steuer, Daniel (1995). “Mit der Stimme im Rücken: Nietzsche, Wittgenstein und die Sprache”, in: German Life and Letters 48/4, 499–515. Stingelin, Martin (1996). “Unsere ganze Philosophie ist Berichtigung des Sprachgebrauchs”. Friedrich Nietzsches Lichtenberg-Rezeption im Spannungsfeld zwischen Sprachkritik (Rhetorik) und historischer Kritik (Genealogie). München: Fink. Teller, Paul (2009). “Fictions, Fictionalization, and Truth in Science”, in: Fictions in Science, ed. M. Suárez, 235–247. von Wright, Georg Henrick (1982). Wittgenstein, Oxford: Blackwell. Wallace, Kyle (1973). “Nietzsche’s and Wittgenstein’s Perspectivism”, in: The Southwestern Journal of Philosophy 4/2, 101–107. Whiting, Daniel (2012). “Languages, Language-Games, and Forms of Life”, in: A Companion to Wittgenstein, eds. H.J. Glock and J. Hyman, Oxford: Blackwell, 420.432.

9 A Nietzschean Critique of Wittgenstein’s Philosophical Quietism Paul S. Loeb

Introduction In this essay I want to discuss the interesting fact that Nietzsche and the later Wittgenstein draw very different metaphilosophical lessons from their similar critiques of the philosophers’ tendency to be misled by language. Nietzsche offers this critique in order to clear the way for a future philosophy that will be able to make new progress because it will no longer be misled in this way. By contrast, Wittgenstein offers this critique as an end in itself. In his view, that is, philosophy is not able to offer any insights that are not already evident to the non-philosophical mind, and the only goal of future philosophy is to teach new philosophers how to avoid being misled by language so that they too might be able to reconcile themselves to these commonplace observations. Why is that? Why do both these thinkers strive to liberate philosophers from the traps set by language, but only Nietzsche expects that this critique will open the way to new philosophical progress?1 Why does Nietzsche propose an activist philosophical agenda while Wittgenstein rests content with a kind of philosophical quietism?2 In a few places, and very briefly, Wittgenstein suggested his own answer to these questions, namely that Nietzsche was simply mistaken in thinking that he had made any kind of new philosophical progress. In particular, he suggested that the theory of eternal recurrence, which Nietzsche thought was his most important discovery, was still a product of linguistic confusion (BBB, 103–109).3 This criticism is interesting, but his implied general point is less so, namely, that insofar as Nietzsche was still hoping to gain philosophical insights that are not evident to the non-philosophical mind, he was bound to be led astray by language. This is a somewhat dogmatic and uncharitable reading, since Wittgenstein most likely knew that Nietzsche had presented a similar linguistic critique of philosophical error. Indeed, as I explain below, Nietzsche claimed that his new philosophical insights—including his discovery of eternal recurrence (Loeb 2022b,

DOI: 10.4324/9781003219071-12

210  Paul S. Loeb 136–142)—were gained as a result of moving past this traditional kind of error. So I will concentrate here instead on trying to understand how Nietzsche might have answered these questions. This is why I have entitled my essay a “Nietzschean” critique—meaning an extrapolation of Nietzsche’s views that will help us see how he might have argued against the later p ­ hilosopher who extended his linguistic critique and yet refused to follow his ­optimistic metaphilosophical conclusions.4 My interpretive argument depends on my distinction between their critique of the philosophers’ linguistic confusion and their diagnosis of this confusion. First, I will explain why ­Nietzsche would claim that his diagnosis is more thorough and more accurate than Wittgenstein’s. Second, I will explain why Nietzsche would claim that Wittgenstein’s flawed diagnosis leads him to overreach by drawing metaphilosophical lessons that don’t actually follow from his linguistic ­critique. Thus, Nietzsche might admit that Wittgenstein’s critique is more detailed and extensive than his own, and he might agree that Wittgenstein’s metaphilosophical conclusions are more parsimonious than his own. ­Nevertheless, he would insist that he is the one who actually digs up the roots of the philosophical error and is for that reason able to restrict ­himself to metaphilosophical conclusions that actually follow from his ­critique. ­Finally, in my concluding section, I will explain Nietzsche’s likely suggestion that Wittgenstein’s philosophical quietism is actually inspired by his dogmatic faith in Christian virtues, values and morality. 1 A Shared Linguistic Critique: Reified Grammar I will begin with Nietzsche’s linguistic critique because it came first and probably had a significant influence on Wittgenstein’s linguistic critique.5 Beyond Good and Evil is the text that presents the most detail in Nietzsche’s critique of the philosophers’ misuse of language and also his fullest discussion of metaphilosophy.6 Right away in the Preface, Nietzsche accuses previous philosophers of incorporating some seduction on the part of grammar as the cornerstone in the construction of their theoretical edifices (BGE 2014, Preface). He then elaborates this hint at much more length in the first two parts of the book. His basic point is that philosophers up to now have fallen under the invisible spell of the grammatical functions that govern whatever languages they have used to philosophize. In particular, he claims, they have been subconsciously led to construct theories of the world that mirror the grammatical and syntactic structure of the sentences in which they think and write. Here are the examples Nietzsche offers. In the field of ontology, the philosophers’ reification of nouns has led them to believe that the world contains unitary, self-identical, and enduring substances, objects, and things

A Nietzschean Critique of Wittgenstein’s Philosophical Quietism  211 (GS 2023, §110; TI “Reason” 5);7 their reification of nominalized adjectives and adverbs has led them to believe that the world contains properties and opposites (BGE §§4, 24, 34); their reification of the nominalized verb “is” has led them to believe that there is being in the world (BGE §2; KSA 14.347); and their reification of the subject and object functions in the subject–predicate–object grammatical structure has led them to believe that there are mechanistic causes and effects in the world (BGE §§16–17, 21; GM, I, §13; KSA 11:2[139]). In the field of epistemology, this same reification of the subject and object functions has led philosophers to believe that there is a gulf between the knowing subject and the object of knowledge (BGE §34; GS §354; KSA 11:40[20]). In the field of philosophical psychology, philosophers have tended to assume that where there is a single noun there must be a corresponding simple and unitary phenomenon in the world—as in the case of “will,” for example, which is envisioned as a kind of cause or capacity (BGE §19; TI “Reason” 5; KSA 11:40[27]). Similarly, their reification of the pronoun “I” has led them to believe that there is a simple, unitary, self-identical and disembodied ego-substance which can be known with immediate certainty, while their reification of the associated subject–predicate function has led them to believe that all mental activity is caused by this ego-substance (BGE §§16–17, 54; TI “Reason” 5; KSA 11:35[35], 11:40[16, 20]).8 Indeed, Nietzsche even finds the latter sort of unconscious grammatical habit at work in the beliefs of scientific philosophers who suppose that forces must reside in material atoms (BGE §17; GM, I, §13; TI “Reason” 5); or in the beliefs of theologian-philosophers who suppose that the world must have been created by God (BGE §34; TI “Reason” 5). Finally, in the field of ethics, Nietzsche claims that the philosophers’ reification of the subject function in the grammatical subject–predicate structure has led them to believe in a split between the doer and the deed and in the related idea of agents who are free to choose their actions and who can therefore be praised and blamed accordingly (BGE §21; GM, I, §13; TI “Reason” 5). In sum, Nietzsche writes in one of his unpublished notes: “Up to now faith in grammar, in the linguistic subject, object, in verbs has subjugated the metaphysicians: I teach the renunciation of this faith” (KSA 11:35[35]; see also KSA 12 6:[13]). All these philosophical beliefs, Nietzsche writes, are actually superstitions (Aberglauben) and fictions (Fiktionen) (terms also used by Wittgenstein in PI §§35, 49, 110, 307) that are invented by philosophers who are still being subconsciously guided by the childish faith they placed in grammar when they first learned their languages (BGE Preface, §§4, 5, 20, 34; KSA 11:40[20, 27]). These philosophers may claim in their defense that they have strong intuitions supporting these beliefs, but they don’t realize that these intuitions are themselves the product of their grammatical habits (BGE §16; KSA 11:35[35], KSA 13:14[79]). More generally, Nietzsche

212  Paul S. Loeb argues, we should expect that philosophers who have learned similar grammatical categories, structures and functions in their respective languages will be subconsciously guided into positing similar philosophical systems that they will mistakenly believe they have discovered by looking into the world. This “linguistic kinship” and “shared philosophy of grammar” helps to explain what he calls—using a term perhaps adopted by Wittgenstein (PI §67)9—the “family resemblance” (Familien-Ähnlichkeit) of all Indian, Greek, and German philosophizing. These fetishistic systems of syntactic fictions are then considered to be accurate interpretations of the world simply because they are shared by many diverse philosophers in many different ages and cultures. But a study of philosophies devised in quite different languages—for example, language groups in which the grammatical subject function is least developed—shows that linguistic kinship is the actual source of the similar philosophizing.10 Where such kinship is present, everything lies ready from the beginning for a similar development and sequence of philosophical systems; while the route to certain other possibilities of interpreting the world seems almost barred (BGE §20; KSA 11:40[6]). Let me turn now to Nietzsche’s likely reading of Wittgenstein. I think he would have noticed right away an affinity in Wittgenstein’s focus at the start of the Philosophical Investigations on Augustine’s account of his childhood experience of learning language (PI §1; BBB, 77).11 This is because Wittgenstein singles out two features of this account as offering a particular picture of the essence of human language: first, that all words are names and second, that all names stand for objects. According to Wittgenstein, these are both radically mistaken assumptions, but they help to explain why philosophers such as Augustine become confused when they start philosophizing.12 Like Nietzsche, that is, Wittgenstein argues that philosophers are led astray by their subconscious tendency to nominalize and then reify most of the grammatical elements of the languages in which they speak and write (BBB, 108–109).13 Indeed, he quotes Plato’s explicit appeal to nominalization and reification in order to explain why he himself used to believe that reality is composed of simple constituent parts (PI §§46– 47). As he puts it at the start of The Blue Book, one of the great sources of philosophical bewilderment is that philosophers use substantives to which no ordinary physical objects correspond and then look in vain for things that correspond to them (BBB, 1, 5–6, 36, 108–109).14 They ask philosophical questions like, “What is X?”, which call for nominalized words in the place of X (BBB, 26)—for example, “What is time?” (BBB, 6, 26–27) or “What is knowledge?” (BBB, 26–27)—and then experience puzzlement, or a mental cramp, because they feel that they can’t point to anything in reply and yet ought to point to something. Their next move, then, is to assume that there is indeed something to be pointed to, but that they can’t

A Nietzschean Critique of Wittgenstein’s Philosophical Quietism  213 point to it because it is queer, strange, remarkable, extraordinary, unique, hidden, shadowy, invisible, immaterial, outside this world, and so on (BBB, 36, 47; PI §§36–38, 89). In other words, philosophers are prompted by a drop of grammar to invent a whole cloud of philosophy or to imagine an aura around certain ordinary phenomena (PPF §315, PI §97). They fall prey to grammatical illusions and fictions and, as a result, produce philosophical superstitions (PI §§110, 307). The examples that Wittgenstein offers to support these claims are quite often taken from areas of philosophy that he explored in his own first book while under the influence of Frege and Russell (PI Preface). These are areas that didn’t interest Nietzsche very much—philosophy of language, philosophy of logic, and philosophy of mathematics. For example, Wittgenstein points out that philosophers reify the word “meaning” and then expect to find a meaning-entity, such as a thought or an image, that accompanies all words and propositions (BBB, 1, 5, 18; PI §§40, 120). Or they are misled by the substantive “object of thought” and by the different meanings of “exist” and become puzzled by the philosophical question, “How can one think what is not the case?” (BBB, 30–32). Or they reify the word “number” and mistakenly look for something like numerals as a correspondent for this word (BBB, 27; PI §§133, 339). Or they nominalize and then reify demonstratives and indexicals such as “this,” “here,” and “now” and look for correlated simples, or sense-data, or indivisible places or times (BBB, 80–81, 108–109, PI §§38–39, 410). Nevertheless, there is still a considerable overlap with Nietzsche when Wittgenstein explores related areas of philosophical inquiry, such as ontology, epistemology, and especially philosophy of mind or philosophical psychology. But whereas Nietzsche tends to gesture quite generally and vaguely in the direction of subject–predicate structures, Wittgenstein microscopically examines the misleading analogies among a wider and more diverse array of grammatical structures. Thus, for example, he considers the analogy between singular first and third personal sentences as leading to the philosophical problem of other minds, the mind–body problem, sense-data, and solipsism (BBB, 46–74; PI §244); or the analogy between transitive and intransitive verbs as leading to the philosophical problem of intentionality (BBB, 22, 29, 160); or the analogies among past, present and future tenses as leading to problems in the philosophy of time (BBB, 6, 26–27, 31, 103–109; PI §89; CV 1998, 22). As Wittgenstein puts it, all these misleading analogies between forms of expression in different regions of language send philosophers in pursuit of chimeras (PI §§90, 94). In each of these cases, and many others, Wittgenstein points to the process of nominalization and reification that produces grammatical illusions: for example, with the pronoun “I” (PI §410) and the word “pain” (PI §257) or with the direct object of the verb “to will,” or with the indexical word “now.”

214  Paul S. Loeb However, unlike Wittgenstein, and except for a couple of places (BGE §§16, 19), Nietzsche simply tends to dismiss what Wittgenstein calls the cloud of philosophy that philosophers invent when they become obsessed with any of these particular drops of grammar. By contrast, Wittgenstein spends most of his time minutely analyzing and dismantling all the various elements that make up this cloud of philosophy (see Suter 1989)—as, for example, in the first analogy mentioned above, with his famous private language argument and its associated analysis of rule-following (PI §§243– 315).15 He explains that philosophy as he does it is complex because it strives to untie the knots in our thinking which we have tangled up in an absurd way and to do that it must make movements which are just as complicated as the knots (PR §2, Z §452). 2 Diverging Diagnoses: Too Much Common Sense and Too Little Having just shown that Nietzsche would have read Wittgenstein as offering a similar kind of linguistic critique of philosophical error, I will now explain why Nietzsche would claim that they differ in their diagnoses of this error. Obviously neither thinker is claiming that there is anything inherently mistaken about the philosophers’ predilection for nominalizing the non-substantival elements of their languages. Instead, like many of their predecessors in the history of philosophy, Nietzsche and Wittgenstein locate the error in the process of reification that follows this nominalization. Both of them are concerned to show that philosophers mistakenly believe that something exists in the world which doesn’t actually exist there. However, they have very different accounts as to why philosophers are led to believe this and what can be done to correct this error. Nietzsche thinks that this error is an instance of a more general tendency on the part of all human beings to project themselves into all of reality. By contrast, Wittgenstein thinks that this error is made only by philosophers who are intellectually confused by syntactic analogies and similarities. Thus, whereas Nietzsche thinks that this error is embedded in common sense, Wittgenstein thinks that this error is avoided by common sense. Accordingly, whereas Nietzsche aims to help philosophers escape the pitfalls of common sense, Wittgenstein aims to help philosophers recover their common sense.16 Again, I’ll start with Nietzsche. He is very clear that philosophers commit the error of reifying grammar because they inadvertently fall under the sway of a very common tendency among humans in general. This point is easy to overlook since he says the most about this error in the first part of BGE, which is devoted to the topic of philosophical prejudices, and in the

A Nietzschean Critique of Wittgenstein’s Philosophical Quietism  215 section of TI called “Reason’ in Philosophy.” But even in these two places he compares this error to folk superstition (Volks-Aberglabe) (BGE, Preface); he says that the philosophers need to avoid doing what the common people (das Volk) do when they commit this error (BGE §16); he says that this error is a folk prejudice (Volks-Vorurtheil) that has triumphed over the habitually minimal caution of philosophers (BGE §19); he says that when philosophers commit this error they are perpetuating the mythological thinking of their ancestors (BGE §21); and he complains that in making this mistake philosophers have fallen prey to a crude fetishism and a rudimentary form of psychology caused by the emergence of language among humans (TI “Reason” 5).17 In GS §354, Nietzsche explains these points at more length when he identifies the snares of grammar with folk metaphysics (Volks-Metaphysik).18 Here, and in BGE §268, Nietzsche claims that language, regarded as a system of shared signs, is by definition a social or public phenomenon that evolved so that endangered primitive human beings might communicate quickly with each other and help each other survive. But then these same primitive human beings reified these shared signs and came to believe in a metaphysics that was a falsification of actual reality—a metaphysics that was then inherited by their evolutionary descendants (see also GS §§110–112, BGE §21).19 Next, Nietzsche argues that the reason these primitive human beings reified their shared signs is that they, like all living beings, were striving to expand their sphere of influence as much as possible in their surrounding environment. In their quest to comprehend, assimilate, and control everything around them, they subconsciously projected themselves and their distinctive traits into all of reality. They imagined themselves as divine beings who created and governed the whole universe. They located their home in the center of the universe and fantasized that the sun, the stars, and everything else revolved around them. They thought of the universe in animist terms that reflected their own biological nature. They assumed a panpsychist conception of the universe that reflected their own psychology. They invented a rational, orderly, and purposive universe that reflected their own need for security and predictability. They were value realists who believed that their values inhered in the world as a whole. And finally, to return to our topic, they imagined an isomorphic correspondence between the syntactic structure of their languages and the world as a whole. Strictly speaking, then, Nietzsche does not think that the philosophers’ reification of grammar is a linguistic error. Instead, just like God and all these other falsifying and obscuring projections that he calls the shadows of God, this is a “composition” fallacy—namely, the weak inductive inference according to which properties that belong just to a part of the whole are said to belong to the whole itself.20 As he explains in GS §109, human

216  Paul S. Loeb beings, their defining traits, their evolution, and their planet, are an infinitesimal and radical exception to the norm, so projecting them into all of reality is an especially egregious instance of the composition fallacy. Yet this is what most human beings have done since they first evolved, driven by their need to make everything familiar, comprehensible, and predictable. Correcting this fallacy, then, means transcending this evolutionary history and the “common sense” projective errors that still preoccupy most human beings today. The key to doing so is summarized by Nietzsche in a Nachlass sentence that is contemporaneous with GS §109: “In earlier times, h[umans] and philosophers projected humans into nature—let’s deanthropomorphize nature!” (KSA 9:11[238]). This new “naturalistic” project is something he thinks philosophers and natural scientists have been pursuing in concert for a long time: for example, Xenophanes’ critique of ancient Greek theology, Copernicus’ critique of geocentrism, Descartes’ critique of final causes, Boscovich’s critique of atomism, Hume’s critique of the law of causality, and Darwin’s critique of creationism.21 In particular, since the reified grammatical structures of human language do not actually exist, philosophers can make new progress in understanding the world as a whole—and then human beings as a part of this world (GS §109, BGE §230, KSA 9:11[211])—if they identify these falsifications and remove them as much as possible. So, for example, Nietzsche argues that philosophers will understand the world, and themselves, better when they replace atoms with forces, permanence with flux, order with chaos, human reason with animal instincts, the Cartesian ego with multiple competing drives, value realism with value creation, and so on. Turning now to Wittgenstein, we find a very different diagnosis of the error involved in the philosophical reification of grammar, and hence a very different remedy as well. In his view, the error is purely linguistic because it involves the two misconceptions about human language mentioned in the quote from Augustine: that all words are names and that all names stand for objects. More specifically, Wittgenstein suggests that the second misconception involves a background assumption that the philosophically reified objects will be comparable to the kinds of physical and material objects that actually exist in the real world and that in ordinary life we call “objects” or “things” (BBB, 81)—for example, the tulips in our garden or the chairs in our dining room set (BBB, 36, 46–47, 61–64, 68–74; PI §253). For example, Plato converts modifying adjectives and adjectives such as “just” into the noun “Justice” and then expects to find an ontological correspondent for the latter that really exists in the sense that these ordinary physical or material objects exist in everyday life. Or Descartes takes singular first-personal sentences, which we use as forms of expression, and confuses them with singular third-personal sentences, which we use to name people, and then expects to find an ontological correspondent to the

A Nietzschean Critique of Wittgenstein’s Philosophical Quietism  217 first-person pronoun that really exists in the sense that these physical or material objects exist in everyday life. But these expectations are frustrated, which then leads these philosophers to invent a cloud of philosophy that floats above these drops of grammar. They come to believe that the ontological correspondents still do exist but are just very different from the kinds of ordinary objects that surround us and play a role in our everyday life—that is, they are aethereal, invisible, immaterial, indestructible, independent of the sensible world, and so on (BBB, 47). The remedy, Wittgenstein argues, is to remind philosophers about the actual ordinary uses of these words and sentences in everyday life, to show them their syntactic confusion, and to dissipate the clouds of philosophy (PI §133).22 This is progress in the sense that philosophers will no longer feel so frustrated by seemingly intractable problems—like the participation of non-sensible Forms in the sensible world, or the nature of the interaction between the non-physical mind and the physical body. But it is not progress if by this is meant discovering new aspects of the world that had not been recognized before. As Wittgenstein puts it, with his approach to philosophy everything already lies open to view, everything is left as it already is, and there is nothing new that remains to be discovered (PI §§98, 109, 124, 126, 128, 599). Non-philosophers, or commonsense people (BBB, 48), don’t get confused about syntax in the way that philosophers do when they are simply staring at language that is idling or gone on holiday (PI §§39, 132). They already know how language is actually used at home, or in ordinary and everyday life, and so “progress” in philosophy is just a matter of guiding philosophers away from their grammatical superstitions and back to the firm ground of common sense that is inhabited by nonphilosophers (BBB, 44–45; PI §§107, 116). As he famously writes, his aim in philosophy is to show the fly (that is, the philosopher) the way out of the fly bottle (that is, grammatical confusion) (PI §309).23 Like Kant before him (CPR, B xxx–xxxi), whose critical method he favored (Monk 1990, 322), Wittgenstein asks why his philosophical investigations should be considered important since they seem only to destroy everything that is interesting, great, and important. His answer is that he is only destroying castles in the air (Luftbäude) and clearing up the ground of language on which they stood (PI §118). But these castles in the air have been around since the time of the ancient Greeks and will continue to be built as long as language and grammar keep seducing us into asking the same kinds of questions. So there will always be a need for his kind of philosophical investigation, that is, for this struggle against the bewitchment of our understanding (CV, 15, 18; PI §109).24 At one point, Wittgenstein even imagines an exasperated interlocutor saying, “But then we will never come to the end of our job!”—to which he responds: “Of course not, because it has no end” (Monk 1990, 325–326). Nevertheless, in a diary entry from 1931, he

218  Paul S. Loeb anticipates his true legacy as an endpoint and a destroyer: “If my name lives on, it will do so only as the Terminus ad quem of great western philosophy. Just like the name of the person who burned down the Alexandrian library” (Brusotti 2009, 343). 3 The Physics of Physical Objects Now I want to explain why Nietzsche would claim that he has a better diagnosis of the philosophers’ linguistic confusions. As we have seen, Wittgenstein’s diagnosis of philosophical reification depends on his background assumption that there are ordinary physical objects surrounding us and playing a role in our everyday life—like the chairs in our dining rooms, or the tulips in our gardens. According to Wittgenstein, philosophers reify their grammatical constructs, such as the Cartesian ego, when they think of them as actually existing in the world just like these ordinary physical objects. Nietzsche, by contrast, makes no such assumption and his diagnosis of philosophical reification does not depend on it. Indeed, as I mentioned at the start of this essay, he actually criticizes this assumption as just one more instance of philosophers falling prey to the commonsense error of reifying grammar (TI “Reason” 5)—which means, more generally, that it is just one more instance of the commonsense error of anthropomorphizing all of reality. Thus, right after criticizing this general kind of error in GS §109, Nietzsche singles out the following propositions as examples: that there are enduring things, that there are same things; and that there are things, substances, bodies (“dass es dauernde Dinge gebe, dass es gleiche Dinge gebe, dass es Dinge, Stoffe, Körper gebe”) (GS §110). Against these errors, he explains that nothing is ever the same, that everything is in flux, and that we are always confronted by a continuum. But because we turn everything into our own image, we operate only with entities that do not exist: substance, cause and effect, motion, lines, planes, bodies, atoms, divisible times, and divisible spaces (GS §§111–112). Of course, none of this is commonsensical, but then neither is any of what we learn about the latest advances in modern physics. For Nietzsche, this point is essential: when he is applying his deanthropomorphic and naturalistic method, he thinks he is doing the same kind of thing that is done in the most advanced non-mechanistic physics of his time. He believes he is making discoveries about the nature of reality that are in harmony with the kinds of discoveries that are being made, or that are about to be made, by physics. More specifically, he argues that the consistent application of his naturalistic method, and the correction of all the errors mentioned above, shows that reality consists of nothing but competing forces that exist only in a constantly changing relation to each other (BGE §36; KSA 11:38[12]).25

A Nietzschean Critique of Wittgenstein’s Philosophical Quietism  219 Wittgenstein doesn’t say much about the physics of ordinary physical objects, but there is an interesting and important place in The Blue Book where he discusses the atomistic theory of physical objects.26 This is the theory, first proposed by Democritus, according to which all of reality consists of nothing but atomic particles and empty space. For example, Wittgenstein writes, popular scientists tell us that the floor on which we stand is not solid, as it appears to common sense, because it consists of particles filling space so thinly that it can almost be called empty. This picture, he says, is liable to perplex us because of course we know that the floor is solid, or that, if it isn’t solid, this may be due to the wood being rotten, but not to its being composed of electrons. So whereas popular scientists seem to have shown that nothing is really solid, they have in fact just misused the word “solid” by using it in such a way that it has no antithesis. To say that the floor is not solid because it is composed of electrons is to misuse language because the atomistic theory of the structure of matter is meant to explain this very appearance of solidity. Here Wittgenstein makes several debatable assumptions. He assumes that only popular scientists say this kind of thing; that the atomistic theory is meant to explain the appearance of solidity; that the floor is actually solid in the commonsensical use of that term; and, most importantly, that there even is a solid floor (as opposed to just atomic particles and empty space). I take it that Wittgenstein would say the same kinds of things about the atomistic theory and the ordinary physical objects that surround us in everyday life, and that in doing so he would be making similar debatable assumptions: that only popular scientists would say that these ordinary physical objects do not really exist according to atomistic theory; that these ordinary physical objects in our commonsensical use of that term actually do exist; and that the atomistic theory of the structure of matter is meant to explain the nature of these ordinary physical objects. So who is right? Do ordinary physical objects that play a role in our everyday lives, such as the chairs in our dining rooms, really exist? I won’t take a stand here, but I will note that many non-popularizing physicists and philosophers of physics would reject Wittgenstein’s assumptions and argue against his commonsensical realism about these ordinary physical objects.27 I will also note Nietzsche’s contrasting perspective, according to which the true scientific method instructs us to deanthropomorphize our theory of reality as much as possible, which means that we simply move past our previous projective errors. For example, once we realize that the sun is not a gendered god, we simply abandon the theological concept. We certainly don’t say that our new astronomical theory is meant to explain this appearance of gender.28 Similarly, insofar as Nietzsche thinks that our commonsensical realism about these ordinary physical objects is another such projective error, he would say that the atomistic theory—or better yet,

220  Paul S. Loeb his own theory of forces—does not aim to explain this realism but rather leave it behind.29 As the surrounding context of his discussion makes clear, Wittgenstein deploys this discussion of scientific theory as a means of illuminating his linguistic critique of philosophical theories—in this case, of phenomenalism (the theory that our personal experiences are the material of which reality consists). But there is an important difference. Whereas he rejects all philosophical theories as a product of linguistic error, he does not likewise reject scientific theories—only what he calls their misapplication (for ­example, by popular scientists). Thus, in this surrounding context, for ­example, he dismisses philosophical phenomenalism as nonsense, but he accepts atomistic physics as an accurate account of reality. However, this atomistic physics was in fact first proposed as a philosophical theory and is very much like the theory of forces that Nietzsche proposes after correcting what he claims is the general projective error of anthropomorphism and the fallacy of composition (of which he thinks the reification of grammar is an instance). So I don’t think Wittgenstein is justified in drawing such a sharp line between philosophical and scientific theories. Nor would he be justified in saying that Nietzsche’s own theory of forces is a scientifically unsupported philosophical theory and that this is why it must be a product of linguistic error. For it could very well be that this theory—just like Democritus’ philosophical theory of atomism—does end up earning scientific support (and some would argue that it already has, with the success of field theory). Indeed, if atomism was originally a philosophical theory that later received scientific support, is Wittgenstein committed to saying that the scientific support somehow removes the linguistic error? How would that process work exactly? In Wittgenstein’s view, one way to tell that scientific theories are not grammatical illusions is that they don’t make any claim to a special modal status (BBB, 55). But then neither does Nietzsche’s theory of forces. For Wittgenstein to claim that Nietzsche’s theory is a product of linguistic error, he would also have to claim that Nietzsche was not as aware of this error as he explicitly and repeatedly says he is, or that he simply did not succeed in keeping this error out of all his thinking—even when he claims to be discovering his theory of forces as a result of correcting this very linguistic error. Finally, notice Wittgenstein’s claim that all philosophical theories depart from common sense and that this is why they must be rejected. However, he seems to admit that scientific theories, such as the atomistic theory of the structure of matter, also depart from common sense because they have a more subtle knowledge of fact (BBB, 59). So how does he think we should tell the difference between them? According to Nietzsche, by contrast, common sense is saturated with anthropomorphic and linguistic errors and it is only when both philosophers and scientists are able to depart from common sense that these

A Nietzschean Critique of Wittgenstein’s Philosophical Quietism  221 errors can be avoided. In any case, if Nietzsche’s own philosophical theory of forces is anything like the earlier philosophical theory of atoms, then Wittgenstein is not in a position to claim that Nietzsche needs to abandon this theory in favor of a commonsense realism about ordinary physical objects. To summarize, I have argued here that Nietzsche would claim that Wittgenstein’s metaphilosophy doesn’t actually follow from his critique. Indeed, Wittgenstein doesn’t ever explain why philosophers shouldn’t just correct the linguistic errors he criticizes and then be in a position to make new progress. He can’t do this, Nietzsche would say, because his diagnosis is flawed, incomplete, and idiosyncratic. It’s flawed because physics refutes his background commonsensical realism about ordinary physical objects. It’s incomplete because the philosophers’ reification of grammar is just an instance of the more general error of humans projecting themselves and their distinctive traits into all of reality. And it’s idiosyncratic because there is a perfectly standard logical fallacy that explains this error, namely, the sort of weak inductive inference that is called the composition fallacy. 4 Contrasting Metaphilosophies: Philosophical Legislation and Philosophical Quietism In this final section, I want to compare the two metaphilosophies and explain how I think Nietzsche would criticize Wittgenstein’s metaphilosophy. I have already mentioned that Nietzsche thinks there is an overlap between the philosophical method and the scientific method, namely, deanthropomorphism.30 But he also thinks that philosophy and natural science need to part ways when it comes time for philosophy to perform its distinctive and essential function, which is to create or legislate values (BGE §211).31 At this point, natural science becomes a tool of philosophy by opening up the space that is needed for philosophers to feel free to perform this function. This is because once human beings erroneously projected their values into all of reality, for example by thinking of them as divine commandments, they forgot that they created them in the first place and they lost track of their ability to change these values or create new ones. More specifically, philosophers lost track of the value-legislating power that makes them unique and superior to all other human types (GS §301). So the allied deanthropomorphic theories of natural science and philosophy are important because they undermine value realism and in that way remind philosophers of what they can and must do in practice. Wittgenstein, by contrast, has no use for natural science and believes that philosophy and natural science have nothing in common (BBB, 18; Monk 2023). But he also refuses to assign philosophy any positive role

222  Paul S. Loeb in any area of human life. Whenever philosophy is active, it is mistaken. The best thing he and his followers can do is prevent philosophy from becoming active in the first place or stop philosophers who have already become active (PI §133). When done right, then, philosophy is a purely critical and self-consuming activity. It doesn’t make any new discoveries, it doesn’t extend human knowledge, it doesn’t solve any problems, it has no special methodological insights to offer other disciplines, it has no contributions to make to public intellectual life, it doesn’t offer any existential advice, and it certainly doesn’t create or legislate any values. This is why I have said that Wittgenstein endorses a kind of philosophical quietism.32 Again, what really matters to Wittgenstein is, as he puts it, to “defend common sense against the attacks of the philosophers […] by curing them of the temptation to attack common sense” (BBB, 58).33 When Wittgenstein uses this kind of therapeutic language, his implication is that philosophy (as it is usually practiced) is a kind of mental illness—especially when it is tempted to attack healthy common sense (BBB, 143; PI §§133, 255, 593; Z §382; RFM II-4, IV-53; OC §§467–468; CV, 44).34 Why is there such a big difference between these two metaphilosophies that are supposed to stem from a shared critique of philosophical error? The answer, I think, has to do with a fundamental divide between ­Nietzsche and Wittgenstein that has far-reaching implications. Whereas Nietzsche is a ferocious critic of Christian virtues, values and morality, Wittgenstein accepts these without question throughout his whole philosophical career.35 We know this from his lectures, his unpublished notes, his diaries, his letters, his study and praise of the Gospels (Monk 1990, 318; CV 30, 35), his favorite authors (for example, Kierkegaard and Dostoevsky),36 and the recollections of his family, lovers, friends, colleagues, and students. Although there is some effort in the scholarly literature to represent Wittgenstein’s ethical views as esoteric or idiosyncratic or philosophically complex, the details of his biography show otherwise. In his biography, Ray Monk provides an especially clear overview of Wittgenstein’s simple and unwavering commitment to Tolstoy’s interpretation of the Christian Gospels from the moment he encountered it during his wartime service in August 1914 (Tolstoy 2011; Monk 1990, 115–117, 132, 136; see also McGuinness 1988, 220–221, 273). Wittgenstein’s subsequent proselytizing was so insistent that he was known as “the man with the gospels,” and Monk describes him as “not only a believer, but an evangelist” (Monk 1990, 116, 132, 192, 213, 318). As McGuinness (1988, 273) and Monk (2023, 8–9) note, and as Edwards elaborates (1982, 60–76), it’s surely no coincidence that, a few years after feeling reborn through this conversion experience, Wittgenstein followed Tolstoy’s example by giving away all his newly inherited wealth (Monk 1990, 170–173) and going to live and teach

A Nietzschean Critique of Wittgenstein’s Philosophical Quietism  223 among the peasants in remote rural villages (Monk 1990, 192–194, 212– 213, 224–228).37 To be sure, Tolstoy’s interpretation of the Bible is unorthodox, but ­Nietzsche knew about it and located it squarely within the mainstream Christian tradition.38 Nietzsche would also emphasize Wittgenstein’s priestly inclinations: for example, his conviction that he had been called by God to become a Christian priest and that he had sinned by refusing this call (McGuinness 1988, 281; Monk 1990, 199–200);39 his spurned attempt to take holy orders and become a Christian monk (Monk 1990, 234); the times he spent living, or working as a gardener, in Christian monasteries (Monk 1990, 191, 234–235, 575); and his arrangements to consult a Christian priest shortly before dying (Monk 1990, 573–575). Turning to Christian psychology, Nietzsche would call our attention to Wittgenstein’s obsessive preoccupation with his guilt and sinful nature— especially in relation to his pride, vanity, and dishonesty (Monk 1990, 185, 366, 373–376, 408–410, 428, 554, 580). He would also point to Wittgenstein’s lifelong invocation of Christian prayer and confession as a means of overcoming his guilt (Monk 1990, 137–149, 142, 225, 316–318, 382, 534; CV 18, 46), as well as his repeated and elaborate staging of public confessions in which he recited his sins (Monk 1990, 18, 185–187, 366–372). Last, but not least, Nietzsche would cite Wittgenstein’s loathing of Bertrand Russell’s atheism and anti-Christianity (Russell 1957; Monk 1990 294, 410), Russell’s own contempt for Wittgenstein’s Christian beliefs (Monk 1990 210–211, 294), and the fact that the final break between them was precipitated by a mutual antipathy regarding this issue (Monk 1990, 210–212, 294). I think Nietzsche would say that all this evidence points to Wittgenstein’s dogmatic faith in Christian virtues, values and morality, but without meaning that he necessarily believed in the Christian God or in the details of Christian theology.40 Nietzsche thought that this was already a very common tendency in his own time and he attacked it as philosophically shallow because he thought that Christian virtues, values and morality could not stand alone without the background Christian theology (TI “Skirmishes” 5). Indeed, it is interesting that Wittgenstein’s commitment to Tolstoy’s version of Christianity was so strong that it was not disturbed even while living in a culture that was saturated by Nietzsche’s influence and even after having studied Nietzsche and some of his most famous intellectual heirs (such as Freud).41 In a conversation with Rush Rhees, Wittgenstein says that he wouldn’t dream of deciding a conflict between Christian morality, on the one hand, and Nietzsche’s criticism of it, on the other, since it’s not like trying to see whether one is more free from objections than the other (RR, 52; OR, 410–411). Here Wittgenstein is simply assuming a Tolstoyan and Kierkegaardian conception of Christianity that

224  Paul S. Loeb prioritizes ethical practice over doctrinal belief and that refuses to concede any need for philosophical or scientific proof (CV, 28–33, 53, 56, 62, 64, 72, 85–86; APR, 53–64; Monk 1990, 410–411, 490–491, 572–573).42 But of course Nietzsche’s whole point is that this is precisely what the conflict is about, since he doesn’t spend much time thinking about Christian doctrinal beliefs but rather presents a host of philosophical objections to the psychology and practice of Christian morality.43 This just shows how little Wittgenstein absorbed or cared about Nietzsche’s criticism. It’s strange, then, that most Wittgenstein scholars don’t mention his core background faith in Christian morality, or that they compartmentalize it as a part of his eccentric personal biography, or that they elide the specifically Christian nature of his ethics by simply referring to his devoutly religious inclination or his ethical seriousness, rigor, and integrity.44 Nietzsche wouldn’t do that. He would say that this dogmatic faith must have played an important role in his philosophizing (BGE §6), just as it played a crucial role in the thinking of most canonical figures in the history of philosophy since Christianity became an established religion.45 He would say, for example, that it’s no accident that Wittgenstein begins the Philosophical Investigations by quoting the religious Confessions of the Christian saint Augustine—a book that Wittgenstein said was possibly the most serious book ever written (Monk 1990, 282, 366).46 And Nietzsche would add that Wittgenstein’s virulent and apocalyptic opposition to scientific and technological progress (CV, 6–8, 48–49, 56, 63; Monk 1990, 404, 484– 489)—as alluded to in the motto attached to the Investigations—is a traditional priestly defensive maneuver that can be traced all the way back to the biblical warning about eating from the tree of knowledge (A §§48– 49).47 Indeed, Nietzsche would say that all of Wittgenstein’s discussions about religion and Christianity are superficial because they don’t recognize the controlling role of the priestly type of human being.48 Or rather, that they are actually biased on behalf of this priestly type because Wittgenstein himself is a priestly philosopher. Finally, Nietzsche would insist that it is this priestly bias—and not his linguistic critique—that is the actual source of Wittgenstein’s philosophical quietism.49 Here is how I think this Nietzschean critique would go. Nietzsche would say, first of all, that Wittgenstein, whether he knows it or not, is a Christian apologist who is concerned above all else to defend and reinforce his Christian values and morality. Second, he would say that the defense aspect of this apologetics is specifically directed against philosophers like Nietzsche who claim to undermine value realism in general, and Christian values in particular, in order to make room for their own creation of new values. More specifically, Nietzsche would say, this defense can be found in Wittgenstein’s refusal to go beyond his critique of reified grammar and to attack the generalized version of this error—that is, the projection of

A Nietzschean Critique of Wittgenstein’s Philosophical Quietism  225 distinctive human traits (such as language) into all of reality. This refusal leaves intact the projection of human values, especially Christian morality, and allows Christians to claim that their values are grounded in some kind of ontological reality. Third, Nietzsche would say that the reinforcement aspect of this apologetics can be found in Wittgenstein’s inversion of the usual relation that is supposed to obtain between philosophers and ordinary people.50 Whereas Nietzsche claims that genuine philosophers are an exceptional and superior type of human being, Wittgenstein suggests that they are all, almost by definition, confused, tormented, and even perhaps mentally ill. And whereas Nietzsche describes most ordinary people as superstitious group-thinkers, Wittgenstein follows Tolstoy in insisting that ordinary people51—especially working people who enjoy manual labor52— are clear-sighted, at ease in the world, and the picture of mental health. Finally, Nietzsche would say that the reinforcement aspect of this Christian apologetics can be found in Wittgenstein’s systematic attempt to annihilate the kind of pride that genuine philosophers usually take in themselves and their work.53 Nietzsche views himself and other genuine philosophers as extraordinary human beings with wisdom, passion, and reasoning talents far exceeding those of ordinary people. He believes that he is uniquely equipped to invent values and ideals that can guide and shape the course of human history. By contrast, Wittgenstein sets out to humble such arrogant and grandiose self-conceptions by showing that philosophers are actually devoid of wisdom, endlessly ruminating in delusions and flawed reasoning, and desperately in need of advice from ordinary people.54 Wittgenstein’s ultimate priestly goal, Nietzsche would say, is to convince those who believe they are destined to be philosopher-leaders that they should instead choose to live ordinary, humble, and unpretentious lives—that is, good Christian lives.55 Conclusion The history of philosophy is often viewed and taught as a kind of dialogue or conversation in which participants digest, and then build and improve upon, and perhaps even bring to fruition, the thoughts of their predecessors. So, for example, it is said that Aristotle built and improved upon the thoughts of the Presocratics, Socrates, and Plato. Or that each of the Modern rationalists and empiricists refined the thinking of their forerunners in their respective philosophical traditions, and that Kant built and improved upon all of them collectively. This progressive conception is problematic, however, because it feeds the prejudice that the history of philosophy is merely of antiquarian interest. There is really not much point in studying each of these individual figures for their own sake if we believe that their philosophical contributions have already been assimilated and improved in

226  Paul S. Loeb the work of later figures. Indeed, there is really not much point in studying the history of philosophy at all if we can simply study the most recent and up-to-date philosophical ideas which are presumed to have assimilated, and improved upon, all previous philosophical ideas. Even where there are competing lines of philosophical thought, why not just emphasize and study the most recent and up-to-date formulation of each of these lines of thought? This indifference to the history of philosophy is then exacerbated by the idea that natural science is making significant advances all the time and that only the most current philosophical ideas are able to keep up with these advances. Why should we study Aristotle’s ideas about the mind when he didn’t know anything about brain science? Or why should we study Kant’s ideas about spacetime and causality after the discovery of relativistic physics and quantum mechanics? Those of us who actually practice the history of philosophy look at things differently. We think that we should study these earlier figures because they have something important to teach us that has not been noticed and that we don’t understand yet. In fact, we claim that our most current philosophical ideas—and perhaps even some of our most advanced scientific theories—may be mistaken and that we may be able to correct them by studying the ideas of earlier philosophers who avoided these kinds of mistakes or even pointed them out in advance.56 Nietzsche, who wrote over a hundred years ago, is an especially instructive figure in this regard and I think we still have much to learn from him—including what we may be doing wrong still, despite all the philosophical and scientific advances since his time. He’s also an especially interesting figure because his ideas don’t seem to be the culmination of a long philosophical tradition but rather the beginning of a new one.57 No matter how influential he has been already, it appears that we are only getting started in understanding his philosophical significance. In this essay, I have presented one such case study by juxtaposing the very similar ideas about philosophical error in Nietzsche and Wittgenstein. Both thinkers believed that philosophers reify the nominalized grammars of the languages in which they write and that this error leads them to suppose that reality is quite different than it actually is. Since these ideas are so similar, and since Nietzsche probably influenced Wittgenstein in this respect, and since Wittgenstein develops a much more extensive and detailed version of this critique, shouldn’t we just leave Nietzsche’s ideas behind in favor of Wittgenstein’s more advanced contribution? Shouldn’t we just suppose that Wittgenstein absorbed everything Nietzsche had to say about this topic and built upon it and improved it, so that there is no more need for us to study Nietzsche’s contribution? This is a very natural suggestion and indeed it is the one I find most often when I read scholars who write about Nietzsche’s linguistic critique of philosophical error or about the

A Nietzschean Critique of Wittgenstein’s Philosophical Quietism  227 relation of his critique to Wittgenstein’s.58 Nevertheless, I think it is a mistaken suggestion and in this essay I have given my reasons for thinking this. In short, I have argued that, although they have similar critiques, the two philosophers offer very different diagnoses: Nietzsche thinks this error is just an instance of the more general error of projecting ourselves into all reality and committing the composition fallacy, whereas Wittgenstein thinks it has to do with treating all words in the human language as if they were names that stand for objects that exist in the world just like the ordinary physical objects that surround us and play a role in our everyday lives. I then showed why Nietzsche would say that his own diagnosis is superior because he is more thorough in claiming that even this background assumption about ordinary physical objects is still part of the same projective error and because physics appears to support his argument against the commonsense realist assumption of ordinary physical objects. Finally, I explained how Nietzsche would say that Wittgenstein’s flawed diagnosis is the reason why his philosophical quietism doesn’t follow from his critique but is inspired instead by his dogmatic faith in Christian virtues, values and morality. Thus, although Nietzsche and Wittgenstein seem to be saying the same thing, I think there are some interesting reasons for thinking that the earlier philosopher gets it right and can help us correct the later philosopher’s mistaken ideas about language, reality, and the nature of philosophy.59 Notes 1 Nietzsche’s expectation, in contrast with Wittgenstein, is especially surprising because he offers so many other criticisms of philosophers besides linguistic confusion, for example, their lack of historical sense, their excessive rationalism, their dogmatism, their moral bias, their fixation on generalities, their reliance on folk superstitions, their mistrust of the senses, and so on (see, for example, BGE Preface and Part One; and TI “Reason”). 2 Here I am disagreeing with some prominent philosophical scholars who think that Nietzsche was a philosophical quietist just like Wittgenstein. See for example Strong (1975, 76–86), Williams (1994, 237–238), Pippin (2010, xiv– xv), Branco (2015, 454–455) and Stegmaier (2017). Others, like Harries (1988, 32–33) and Leiter (2004, 1–23) would probably agree with the contrast I’ve drawn here. Still others, for example Alvarez and Ridley (2005, 15), argue that we should avoid construing Nietzsche as a proto-Wittgensteinian about language due to the relevant history that separates them and the crucial differences between their central concerns. But they don’t consider the shared linguistic critique that I outline below. The French philosopher Badiou (2019) identifies both thinkers as “antiphilosophers,” but his discussion is focused mostly on Wittgenstein’s Tractatus. 3 Although Wittgenstein doesn’t mention it, the idea he criticizes in The Brown Book—“that what can happen must have happened before” (BBB, 104)— seems to be taken directly from Nietzsche’s proof of eternal recurrence in the

228  Paul S. Loeb “Vision and Riddle” chapter of Thus Spoke Zarathustra (see also Brusotti 2009, 359n. 87). This would indicate that Wittgenstein was familiar with Nietzsche’s book (as Moore reports in his diary at the beginning of October 1913), and more specifically with what he elsewhere calls Nietzsche’s “Begründung” of eternal recurrence (Brusotti 2009, 359–361). But Wittgenstein misinterprets this idea (as many do), because what Nietzsche means by “happened before” is numerical, not temporal, precedence. What Nietzsche proposes is that, in order for a numerically preceding recurrence to be qualitatively identical, it has to happen at the same time. See Loeb 2022a. 4 See also Alvarez and Ridley: “[T]he ambition of this [ethical] version of Wittgenstein is, ultimately, to cure us of the need for philosophy altogether; whereas Nietzsche’s ethical ambitions require us only, and at most, to free ourselves from certain kinds of (what he regarded as) bad philosophy”(2005, 17n.20). 5 For a philological survey of the evidence regarding Nietzsche’s influence on Wittgenstein, see Brusotti 2009. Despite the influence of Lichtenberg on both thinkers, and despite Mauthner’s acknowledgement of his debt to Nietzsche’s linguistic critique, as well as Carnap’s quotation of Nietzsche’s linguistic critique in BGE and Waismann’s observation of the close relation between the linguistic critiques of Nietzsche and Wittgenstein, Brusotti suggests that we can’t know for sure whether Wittgenstein was familiar with this very famous precedent (Brusotti 2009, 337, 347n.41, 361; see also Branco 2015, 456–457). But I think this is an unreasonable standard of evidence: probability and likelihood are sufficient. Indeed, given the commonalities I outline in this paper, I'm inclined to think that Wittgenstein's failure to mention this precedent is evidence of his anxiety of influence with respect to Nietzsche's linguistic critique of philosophy (similar to Freud's anxiety about Nietzsche in the realm of psychology). 6 In a diary entry from 8 December 1914, Wittgenstein records his purchase of a volume from the collected works of Nietzsche that may have included Beyond Good and Evil (Brusotti 2009, 341–342). 7 In TI “Reason” 5, Nietzsche argues that we first reify the pronoun “I” and then project this I-substance into the world, which then leads us to believe in the existence of substances, objects, and things. See also KSA 11:35[35] and KSA 13:14[79]. As I show below, Wittgenstein does not follow Nietzsche in making this particular criticism because he takes for granted the existence of ordinary physical objects, such as chairs or flowers, that play a role in our everyday lives. 8 Riccardi (2021, 169–172) argues that this point of Nietzsche’s anticipates Wittgenstein’s later critique of the Cartesian ego. 9 Wittgenstein’s use of this term might also have been an allusion to Francis Galton’s term for hereditary likeness. But see Brusotti (2009, 352–354) on Waismann’s connection between the two philosophers’ use of this term and his close working relationship with Wittgenstein. Alvarez and Ridley (2005, 17n.16) argue that Nietzsche does not use this term in order to make a Wittgensteinian point, but rather to refer to similarities between the metaphysical presupposition of different languages that are induced by similar grammatical functions. But I am arguing that this kind of inducement is precisely Wittgenstein’s point, something that is missed in their comparative review and analysis. 10 He adds that this linguistic kinship can be traced back to shared geography, race, physiological conditions, etc. See also BGE §268. 11 It’s not clear whether Wittgenstein agrees with Nietzsche that philosophers are unduly influenced by the grammatical habits they learned as children. On the

A Nietzschean Critique of Wittgenstein’s Philosophical Quietism  229 one hand, he seems to criticize Augustine’s account of language learning during childhood (PI §32) and to suggest an alternative account in terms of primitive or simple language games (BBB, 17, PPF §161). On the other hand, he often suggests that philosophers think like children when they philosophize (BBB, 26; PI §§47, 282; PPF §§205–206). 12 See BBB, 18, 82 and PI §27 for Wittgenstein’s criticism of the first assumption; and BBB, 18, 82 and PI §§38–44 for his criticism of the second assumption. For a similar interpretive emphasis, see Fogelin (2018). Notice that Wittgenstein’s criticism still allows that some words are ordinarily used as names and that some names are ordinarily used to stand for objects. 13 These grammatical elements belong to what Wittgenstein calls “surface grammar” (Oberflächengrammatik), meaning for example the placement of words in the sentence structure (Satzbau), or the uniform appearance of words when we hear them in speech or see them written or in print, as opposed to “depth grammar” (Tiefengrammatik), or the way in which words are actually used in ordinary everyday language (PI §§664, 11). In this essay, I am using the term “grammar” only in the former, syntactic, sense. See Wittgenstein’s 1930–1932 lectures (Stern et. al. 2019, 367–378; and Monk 1990, 322–323) for his extended account of the relation between the two senses of “grammar” during his response to G.E. Moore. 14 Wittgenstein’s qualification that this is only one of the great sources of philosophical bewilderment points us in the direction of other psychological sources he mentions, such as the craving for generality, the preoccupation with the scientific method, the quest for perfection and exactitude, the search for essences, the image of an ideal, being held captive by a picture, and so on. But for Wittgenstein all these other psychological sources are either the result of linguistic confusion or contribute to linguistic confusion. On their own, these criticisms are not distinctive of his approach and Nietzsche would say that they don’t help to ensure Wittgenstein’s claim that there can’t be any new philosophical progress of the sort he, Nietzsche, has in mind. 15 Again, however, I think Nietzsche would argue that this aspect of Wittgenstein’s critique is not enough to justify his philosophical quietism. For example, he would say that nothing in Wittgenstein’s private language argument shows that he, Nietzsche, was mistaken in moving from his similar linguistic critique of the Cartesian ego to his new philosophical theory of the soul as an embodied structure of competing drives and affects that work at the sub-personal unconscious level (BGE §12). See for example Riccardi 2015, 542–545. 16 However, as he explains at more length in On Certainty, this is not philosophical common sense in the way that G.E. Moore, for example, uses it to refute skepticism about the external world: “Now the answer of the common-sense philosopher—and that, n.b., is not the common-sense man, who is as far from realism as from idealism” (BBB, 48, my italics). 17 See also KSA 11:35[35], where Nietzsche writes that, just like the common people (das Volk), metaphysicians have believed in grammatical fictions. 18 Danto (2005, 104–106) rightly contrasts Nietzsche’s claim that past philosophy has been a projection of the grammatical structure of ordinary language onto the neutral screen of reality with Wittgenstein’s claim that all philosophy is a deviation from ordinary language. 19 For a further discussion of Nietzsche’s theory of language as having to do with commonality and community, although without mention of Nietzsche’s critique of reified grammar, see Richardson 2015 and 2020, 204–233. However,

230  Paul S. Loeb Richardson does briefly discuss this critique in connection with Nietzsche’s doubts against the subject/agent (2020, 164–165) and he describes as “Wittgensteinian” a couple of early unpublished notes in which Nietzsche says that the philosophers are seduced by words and caught in the nets of language (2020, 218n.24). 20 This is Aristotle’s term, not Nietzsche’s. For further discussion, see Loeb 2021c and 2022c. 21 However, Nietzsche will often criticize the natural scientists of his time for not applying this method consistently or thoroughly enough, especially the mechanistic and materialistic paradigms in physics (BGE §§21, 36). 22 In his lectures in 1930–1932, Wittgenstein announced that he had discovered this philosophical method (or set of methods, PI §133) and was no longer interested in solving philosophical problems or formulating philosophical theses, doctrines, or theories. Monk (1990, 296–304) argues that this is a really decisive moment and the turning point between Wittgenstein’s transitional phase and his mature later philosophy. Monk also says that this method “has no precedent in the entire tradition of Western philosophy” (1990, 316), but I am arguing that Nietzsche’s linguistic critique was an important precedent and probably a significant influence (especially from his own reading of Nietzsche and his interactions with the members of the Vienna circle). 23 More specifically, Wittgenstein also has in mind a way out of philosophical solipsism (Monk 1990, 428). 24 For some examples of Wittgenstein commentators who endorse this anti-theoretical and deflationary interpretation of Wittgenstein’s metaphilosophy, see Edwards 1982, Suter 1989, Monk 1990 and 2019, Stern 2004, Horwich 2012, and Fogelin 2018. See also the commentators included in The New Wittgenstein anthology (Crary and Read 2000)—for example, James Conant and Cora Diamond—who are described in the Introduction as advancing a “therapeutic understanding of Wittgenstein’s conception of the aim of philosophy” (Crary and Read 2000, 1). See also Rorty’s essay on Wittgenstein and the linguistic turn (in Ahmed 2010, 300–333) and Horwich’s response to this essay (in Ahmed 2010, 336–372). 25 See my essay on will to power and panpsychism (Loeb 2015). For some debate on this issue, see Meyer (2023). I agree with Meyer, against Remhof, that ­Nietzsche is an eliminativist about physical objects, not a constructivist. 26 See also his observation that the following is a question of physics: “What are the ultimate constituents of matter?” (BBB, 35). Of course, Nietzsche rejected this atomistic theory long before Wittgenstein wrote this book, and indeed precisely because he thinks it commits the error of reifying grammar (BGE §§12, 17). Nevertheless, we can look at what Wittgenstein says about this atomistic theory in order to see what he might have said about an un-commonsensical theory of physical objects like the one that Nietzsche prefers. 27 Again, and especially in OC, Wittgenstein sharply distinguishes his own commonsensical realism that is rooted in the role these ordinary objects play in our everyday life from the philosophical commonsensical realism of philosophers such as G.E. Moore who try to defend statements that aren’t used in ordinary everyday life, such as “There are physical objects,” or “I know that that’s a tree there.” In fact, he wouldn’t call this background assumption “realism” at all, since he avoids all theses and theorizing. Also, at the start of The Brown Book and Philosophical Investigations, Wittgenstein invents primitive language games for a society of builders that provide a complete communication system

A Nietzschean Critique of Wittgenstein’s Philosophical Quietism  231 in which it is an ordinary part of everyday life to speak of actually existing material or physical objects that are called “building stones” (such as “blocks,” “pillars,” “slabs,” and “beams”) (BBB, 81). But I am arguing here that ­Nietzsche would say that Wittgenstein’s examples of dining-room chairs and building stones, which are the basis of his diagnosis of philosophical reification, are themselves reified grammatical constructs that do not actually exist and hence cannot be contrasted with other non-existent reified grammatical constructs such as the Cartesian ego. 28 “Everything has its day. — When human beings gave all things a sex they didn’t think that they were playing, but rather that they had gained a profound insight: — they did not admit to themselves the enormous extent of this error until very late and perhaps they have still not entirely admitted this even now. — In the same way, humans have ascribed to all that exists a connection with morality and laid an ethical significance on the world's back. One day this will have as much value, and no more, as the belief in the masculinity or femininity of the sun has today.” (D 1982, §3). 29 Similarly, once he has disposed of the grammatical illusion of the Cartesian ego, Nietzsche claims that there is now room for new conceptions and refinements of the soul-hypothesis, including his own conception of the soul as an embodied structure of competing drives and affects working at a sub-personal unconscious level—a concept which is in no way supposed to explain the Cartesian ego (BGE §12). 30 See my review of Leiter’s book on moral psychology with Nietzsche (Loeb 2021a). 31 See my essay on BGE §211 (Loeb 2019b). 32 See also Leiter’s Introduction to The Future for Philosophy (2004, 1–23). In this overview, Leiter doesn’t discuss Wittgenstein’s work and doesn’t find any anticipation of Wittgenstein’s linguistic critique in Nietzsche. Instead, he draws a contrast between a small set of English-speaking “Wittgensteinian” philosophers who became quietist under the pressure of Wittgenstein’s arguments and a much larger set of philosophers who became naturalists under the pressure of Quine’s very different arguments. Also, Leiter ascribes a Quinean naturalism to Nietzsche, whereas I am arguing that Nietzsche’s naturalism consists in his methodological deanthropomorphism (see Loeb 2021a). 33 Here Nietzsche would probably cite his observation about Kant’s similar critical philosophy: “Kant wanted to prove in a way that would dumbfound the ‘whole world’ that ‘the whole world’ was right: —that was the secret joke of this soul. He wrote against the scholars in favor of popular prejudice, but for scholars and not for the common people” (GS §193). See also BGE §210: “They [the philosophers of the future] consider it no small disgrace for philosophy when people decree, as is popular nowadays: “Philosophy itself is criticism and critical science—and nothing whatever besides. […] [O]ur new philosophers will say nevertheless: critics are instruments of the philosopher and for that very reason, being instruments, a long way from being philosophers themselves. Even the great Chinese man of Königsberg was merely a great critic. —” 34 See footnote 24 above where I cite Wittgenstein scholars who call his metaphilosopy “therapeutic.” Compare Leiter’s very different characterization of one aspect of Nietzsche’s metaphilosophy as “therapeutic” (Leiter 2013, 582–84, 596).

232  Paul S. Loeb 35 Alvarez and Ridley (2005, 17n.20) also note that Nietzsche inveighed against the kind of ethical values held by Wittgenstein, but they don’t consider Wittgenstein’s Christianity or its impact on his philosophical quietism. 36 See Schönsbaumsfeld (2007, 10–37) for an extended account of Kierkegaard’s influence on Wittgenstein—starting with Maurice Drury quoting Wittgenstein as saying that Kierkegaard was a saint and by far the most profound thinker of the last century (RW 87). Notice how Wittgenstein here elevates the Christian philosopher not just above Nietzsche, but also above two of his other important nineteenth-century influences, Schopenhauer (Monk 1990, 18–19, 143– 144) and Marx (Monk 1990, 247–248, 343, 486–487). For Wittgenstein’s interest in Dostoevsky as a Christian thinker, see Ilse Somavilla (in Bru et al. 2013, 263–288), Brian McGuinness (in Bru et al. 2013, 227–242) and Monk (1990, 136, 342, 490, 549). 37 Edwards also notes (1982, 70–71), correctly I think, that both Tolstoy and Wittgenstein were engaged in the traditional Christian practice of imitatio Christi, that is, living their lives as they imagined Jesus lived his and advised others to live theirs (see also Monk 2023, 7). In my view, Edwards offers the most insightful—although uncritical--scholarly account of Wittgenstein’s Christian ethics and of the relation Wittgenstein saw between this ethics and his later philosophical work. 38 See for example Section 7 of The Antichrist, and the Tolstoyan figure of the voluntary beggar in Part IV of Thus Spoke Zarathustra as well my commentary on this figure in Loeb and Tinsley (2022, 529–530). 39 According to McGuinness (1988, 274), a friend in prison camp, Franz Parak, reports that Wittgenstein said to him at the end of the war: “I’d most like to be a priest, but when I’m a teacher I can read the Gospels with the children.” 40 However, sometimes, including during the time he was writing PI, Wittgenstein seems to suggest that he might also have faith in the divine nature of Jesus and in the event of Jesus’ resurrection (CV, 32–33; Monk 1990, 383-384). Here Wittgenstein says that his faith would have to stem from his love and passion instead of his speculative intelligence and abstract mind (see also Monk 1990, 489–490)-—a contrast that Nietzsche would have said is standard fare in traditional Christian thinking. Monk also points to the circularity in Wittgenstein’s reasoning here—that he needs to have this faith in order to be saved but also that he needs to be saved in order to have this faith. But, again, for Nietzsche this is just a traditional Christian circularity that he specifically criticizes in A §50. 41 In a diary entry from 8 December 1914, Wittgenstein records his purchase of a volume from the collected works of Nietzsche that may have included The Antichrist (see Brusotti 2009, 341–342). He writes that he was strongly affected by Nietzsche’s hostility against Christianity because his writings also have some truth in them. It’s not clear what Wittgenstein means by this and the rest of the entry doesn’t really help to clarify his point. But I don’t think we should infer that he means there is truth in Nietzsche’s hostility against Christianity. Rather, his point seems to be that he is disturbed by this hostility precisely because Nietzsche also says some other true things about Christianity. For Wittgenstein, these other true things in The Antichrist would have included especially Nietzsche’s insistence on Christian psychology and practice rather than doctrinal beliefs (A §39). It might also have included Nietzsche’s claim that Paul corrupted the message and example of Jesus (A §§41–47)—something Wittgenstein seems to echo in his own later notes (CV, 30–33; see also

A Nietzschean Critique of Wittgenstein’s Philosophical Quietism  233 Monk 1990, 121–123, 540–542). In this same diary entry, Wittgenstein adds that Christianity is indeed the only sure way to happiness, but wonders about someone—presumably Nietzsche—who spurned this happiness (Monk 1990, 122). In A §50 Nietzsche criticizes this traditional Christian formula that faith brings happiness, therefore it is true. 42 Again, this idea that true faith requires a lack of proof is a traditional Christian idea that is targeted by Nietzsche in A §§50–55. But following Wittgenstein’s own presentations, in which he uses technical phrases like “the grammar of our language about God” or “the historical proof-game” (OR, 413–415, CV, 32), scholarly commentary tends to interpret Wittgenstein’s remarks about religious belief as guided only by his philosophical investigations into language. 43 McGuinness (1988, 225–226) makes the interesting observation that Tolstoy, Nietzsche and Wittgenstein all had the same starting point in David Friedrich Strauss’ pivotal rejection of the miraculous and mysterious in Christianity. 44 See for example Monk, who writes that Wittgenstein lived a “devoutly religious life” in a way that is “difficult to define” (1990, 580), or that “he sought a state of ethical seriousness and integrity that would survive the scrutiny of even that most stern of judges, his own conscience” (1990, 580). Here Monk, like Wittgenstein (in most places) and like most of his scholarly commentators, simply takes it for granted that Christian religion and morality are morality and religion per se. 45 Thus, Nietzsche would say that, no matter how much the later Wittgenstein took himself to be combating the dogmatism of his Tractarian period (Monk 1990, 320–321), this effort did not extend to the faith in Christian ethics which he came to cultivate during that period. 46 See also Wittgenstein’s remark to Norman Malcom that he began PI with the quotation from Augustine because “the conception must be important if so great a mind held it” (Monk 1990, 478). Compare Nietzsche’s estimation of Augustine in BGE §§50, 200, GS §359, and A §59. Of these, BGE §200 is the most interesting appraisal, since Nietzsche would have probably applied some of the same cultural and psychological analysis to Wittgenstein. In a letter to Overbeck, Nietzsche writes: “— Just now I’ve been reading the Confessions of St. Augustine for relaxation, with great regret that you weren’t with me. Oh this old rhetor! How false and ridiculous (augenverdreherisch)! How I laughed!” (March 31, 1885; KSB 7, 34). 47 This is not to say that there aren’t some similarities between the rejections of scientism in Nietzsche and Wittgenstein—especially in connection with aesthetics and music. See, for example, GS §373 and Monk 2019, Chapter 10. The difference is that Nietzsche considers natural science a valuable tool of philosophy, whereas Wittgenstein sees no philosophical role for natural science. 48 See my essays on Nietzsche’s account of the priestly type and the priestly philosopher (Loeb 2018, 2019a). 49 In this essay, I am only concerned with Wittgenstein’s later philosophy, but there is a case to be made that he was also a philosophical quietist in his first book, and for similar reasons (see Crary and Read 2000, 1–18). This would make sense if his Christian values and morality were the actual source of his quietism. Since Schopenhauer was an influence on both Wittgenstein and Tolstoy, there is also a case to be made for the influence of Schopenhauer’s quietism (WWR 2, Chapter 48), which he links to Christian thinkers and doctrines. McGuinness (1988, 225) even suggests that Tolstoy espoused a Schopenhauerian version of Christianity.

234  Paul S. Loeb 50 See the chapter on famous sages in Thus Spoke Zarathustra, where Nietzsche has Zarathustra criticize those philosophers who are servants and advocates of the common people and thereby turn wisdom into a poorhouse. 51 Wittgenstein uses the English phrases, “the common-sense man” and “the man in the street” (BBB, 48, 59). Heller (1988, 155) suggests that Wittgenstein valorizes ordinary language because, following Tolstoy, he valorizes ordinary people. 52 See for example Monk 1990, 247–248, 345–351, 569. Wittgenstein’s self-description as a communist at heart, his hatred of class distinctions, and his Tolstoyan infatuation with Russia and the Soviet Union as communist sites of an almost religious worship of working people, led him to visit Russia and petition the government to allow him to perform manual labor on a collective farm. However, Nietzsche would say that Wittgenstein’s political preferences and his Christianity have a common origin in a ressentiment morality that undermines the workers’ instincts and teaches them to be envious and vengeful (A §§24, 57). 53 See CV, 26 and Monk 1990, 366–367, 371, 413. 54 In this vein, it is interesting that Gilles Deleuze, who presents himself as an heir to Nietzsche’s philosophical legacy, remarks that the Wittgensteinian school was a philosophical catastrophe, a massive regression of philosophy, and an attempted assassination of philosophy (Deleuze 2004, letter “W”). However, Deleuze doesn’t try to explain why Wittgenstein’s animus against traditional philosophy seems to extend beyond his linguistic critique—an animus which I think Nietzsche would trace back to his Christian Weltanschauung. See, by contrast, Badiou (2019), who draws a connection between antiphilosophy and Christianity, but implausibly argues that Nietzsche is an antiphilosopher because he is still tied to Christianity by his hatred of it. 55 See the many anecdotes in Monk’s biography about Wittgenstein advising his students to leave the academic study of philosophy and join the working class and do honest work, especially manual labor (Monk 1990, 6, 181, 323, 402–404). 56 In Leiter’s terms (2004, 2, 8–11), I am arguing that the history of philosophy has intrinsic value and I am articulating a Nietzschean criticism of the role assigned to the history of philosophy by Wittgensteinian philosophical quietists—namely, as a means of dissolving philosophical problems by showing how we came to make the mistake of thinking there were such problems in the first place. 57 See my essay on Nietzsche’s place in the Aristotelian history of philosophy (Loeb 2017). 58 Poellner (1995, 3–4) also criticizes this scholarly tendency. 59 I am grateful to Daniel Blue, Chris Janaway, Scott Jenkins, and Mattia Riccardi for their helpful comments. Thanks also to the editors of this volume, Shunichi Takagi and Pascal Zambito, for their helpful information and valuable feedback. This paper also benefited from the questions and comments of the participants at the Tenth Annual Boston University Workshop on Late Modern Philosophy

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A Nietzschean Critique of Wittgenstein’s Philosophical Quietism  235 Alvarez, Maria and Ridley, Aaron. (2005). “Nietzsche on Language: Before and After Wittgenstein,” In Philosophical Topics 33:2, 1–17. Badiou, Alan (2019). Wittgenstein’s Antiphilosophy, translated with an Introduction by B. Bosteels. London: Verso Books. Branco, Maria João Mayer. (2015). “Questioning Introspection: Nietzsche and Wittgenstein on ‘The Peculiar Grammar of the Word ‘I’.” In Nietzsche and The Problem of Subjectivity, eds. João Constancio, Maria João Mayer Branco, and Bartholomew Ryan, 454–486. Berlin/Boston: Walter de Gruyter. Bru, S. Huemer, W. Steuer, D. (2013). Wittgenstein Reading, eds. S. Bru, W. Huemer, D. Steuer, 227–242. Berlin: Walter de Gruyter. Brusotti, Marco. (2009). “Wittgensteins Nietzsche. Mit Vergleichenden Betrachtungen zur Nietzsche-Reception im Wiener Kreis.” In Nietzsche-Studien 38:1, 335–362. Crary, Alice and Read, Rupert (2000). The New Wittgenstein. New York: Routledge. Danto, Arthur C. (2005). Nietzsche as Philosopher. Expanded Edition. New York: Columbia University Press. Deleuze, Gilles. (2004). L’ Abécédaire de Gilles Deleuze [DVD]. Paris: Éditions Montparnasse. Edwards, James C. (1982). Ethics Without Philosophy: Wittgenstein and the Moral Life. Gainesville: University Press of Florida. Fogelin, Robert J. (2018). “Wittgenstein’s Critique of Philosophy.” In The Cambridge Companion to Wittgenstein, Second Edition, eds. Hans Sluga and David G. Stern, 28–53. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Harries, Karsten (1988). “The Philosopher At Sea.” In Nietzsche’s New Seas: Explorations in Philosophy, Aesthetics, and Politics, eds. M.A. Gillespie and T.B. Strong, 21–44. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Heller, Eric. (1988). “Wittgenstein and Nietzsche.” In Eric Heller, The Importance of Nietzsche, 141–157. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Holub, Robert. (2018). Nietzsche in the Nineteenth Century: Social Questions and Philosophical Interventions. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Horwich, Paul. (2012). Wittgenstein’s Metaphilosophy. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Leiter, Brian. (2004). “Introduction.” In The Future for Philosophy, ed. B. Leiter, 1–23. Oxford: Oxford University Press. ———. (2013). “Nietzsche’s Naturalism Reconsidered.” In The Oxford Handbook of Nietzsche, eds. K. Gemes and J. Richardson, 576–598. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Loeb, Paul S. (2017). “Nietzsche’s Place in the Aristotelian History of Philosophy.” In Nietzsche and the Philosophers, ed. M. T. Conard, 9–39. London: Routledge. ———. (2018). “The Priestly Slave Revolt in Morality.” In Nietzsche-Studien 47, 100–139. ———. (2019a). “Nietzsche’s Critique of Kant’s Priestly Philosophy.” In Nietzsche and The Antichrist: Religion, Politics, and Culture in Late Modernity, ed. D. Conway, 89–115. London and New York: Bloomsbury Academic.

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A Nietzschean Critique of Wittgenstein’s Philosophical Quietism  237 Richardson, John. (2015). “Nietzsche, Language, Community.” In Individual and Community in Nietzsche’s Philosophy, 214–243. New York: Cambridge University Press. ———. (2020). Nietzsches’ Values. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Russell, Bertrand. (1957). Why I Am Not a Christian and Other Essays on Religion and Related Subjects. New York: Simon and Schuster. Schönsbaumsfeld, Genia. (2007). A Confusion of the Spheres: Kierkegaard on Philosophy and Religion. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Stegmaier, Werner. (2017). “Schreiben / Denken: Nietzsche – Wittgenstein.” In Nietzsche-Studien, 46:1, 184–218. Stern, David G. (2004). Wittgenstein’s Philosophical Investigations: An Introduction (Cambridge Introductions to Key Philosophical Texts). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Strong, Tracy B. (1975). Friedrich Nietzsche and the Politics of Transfiguration. Berkeley: University of California Press. Suter, Ronald. (1989). Interpreting Wittgenstein: A Cloud of Philosophy, A Drop of Grammar. Philadelphia: Temple University Press. Tolstoy, Leo. (2011). The Gospel in Brief: The Life of Jesus, trans. Dustin Condren. New York: Harper Press. Williams, Bernard. (1994). “Nietzsche’s Minimalist Moral Psychology.” In Nietzsche, Genealogy, Morality: Essays on Nietzsche’s On The Genealogy of Morals, ed. R. Schacht, 237–247. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press.

10 Overcoming Chagrin in Cavell and Nietzsche Gordon C. F. Bearn

1 Wittgenstein and Nietzsche are existential philosophers: their philosophies are composed in response to the threat of nihilism. This is familiar enough to readers of Nietzsche who can all recite that nihilism stands at the door, uncanniest of guests (WP, 9). It is rarer among readers of Wittgenstein where it is Cavell who most consistently insists on this reading, although it is true that Cavell refers to nihilism by what he calls its older name: skepticism (1990b, 94). Both Wittgenstein and Nietzsche understand philosophical work as work on oneself, an effort to become what one is, but with the codicil that one hasn’t a clue what one is (BT, 407/300e; EH 2021, 243).1 In this vein, philosophy is a way of living or becoming, not a body of doctrine. And if it seems that Wittgenstein is more focused on technical questions about language than Nietzsche, it helps to remember that Nietzsche was a professional philologist and that, for Wittgenstein, to imagine a language was to imagine a form of life (PI §19). There is much to recommend this parallel reading of Nietzsche and (Cavell’s) Wittgenstein. Nietzsche’s approach to becoming what one is comes out most clearly in Ecce Homo, where we find Nietzsche turning away from a long list of what in other hands would have been topics of philosophical treatises: “God,” “Soul,” “Virtue,” “Sin,” “the Beyond,” “truth,” “eternal life” (EH, 245). For Nietzsche, not those big things but little ones, “petty things,” are actually the “essential concerns of life”: “nourishment, place, climate, recreation, the whole casuistry of selfishness” (245). For Nietzsche, caring for these little things is essential also to becoming who we are. His scattered, strangely precise suggestions for living – such as avoiding tea in the afternoon and alcohol always, or insisting:

DOI: 10.4324/9781003219071-13

Overcoming Chagrin in Cavell and Nietzsche  239 Sit as little as possible; give no credence to any thought unless it is born in the fresh air when you are on the move – while your muscles are celebrating a festival as well. (EH, 233) – these scattered suggestions are a description of the practice that Nietzsche found essential to becoming who he was. In one telling of the arrival or approach of something he called the great liberation, Nietzsche writes of warming breezes and, describing a convalescing free spirit, he tells us: It seems to him as if his eyes are only now open to what is near. He is astonished and sits silent: where had he been? These near and nearest things: how changed they seem! what bloom and magic they have acquired! (HH 1987, 8) The near may be another way of saying little things, petty things, but these nearest things are now suddenly new, enlarged, seen for the first time. One aspect of Cavell’s existential reading of Wittgenstein is his sense that the experience of “intimacy with existence, or intimacy lost”, which is fundamental to his reading is conveyed “most directly and most practically” not by Austin and Wittgenstein, but by Emerson and Thoreau (Cavell 1981, 145–146). In Emerson, this shows up in “the familiar, the low”: “the meal in the firkin, the milk in the pan”.2 In Thoreau, it shows up in his recalling the intimacy of things after a gentle rain by the pond: “Every little pine needle expanded and swelled with sympathy and befriended me… I thought no place could ever be strange to me again.”3 There is much to recommend a parallel reading of (Cavell’s) Wittgenstein and Nietzsche. Nevertheless, in what follows, I will be trying to tease apart their philosophical trajectories. 2  Emerson is a natural enough starting point, since Nietzsche and Cavell, almost uniquely in a long century of philosophers, find Emerson’s writings to be sources of genuinely philosophical inspiration.4 After looking at Emerson’s invocation of chagrin, I will suggest that Cavell attempts an overcoming of chagrin by a practice of return, recovering the long material histories of our words, reigniting their lost grammatical energies. On the other hand, Nietzsche attempts an overcoming of chagrin by educating us out of the historical grammar of our words into the sensual enjoyment of

240  Gordon C. F. Bearn innocent becoming. The tone or sound of Cavell’s response to chagrin is serious, recovering a walking pace, andante, on rough ground. Nietzsche’s response bubbles with sounds of cheerfulness; his gait, dancing, touching the earth only to return to the air. It is the difference between going grammatically back and going creatively, perhaps even agrammatically, on. I sometimes think the best mnemonic for this elusive difference is as the difference between what Cavell called “aversive thinking” and what Foucault called “thinking otherwise”.5 It sounds simple enough. One is seriously slowing down to a walk, letting gravity ground us on the earth, the other is dancing, fluttering like a butterfly or a soap bubble, overpowering the spirit of gravity with laughter (PI §107, TSZ 2005, 36). What makes this comparison delicate is that the opposite trajectories of Cavell and Nietzsche, going back and going on, are equally features of Emerson and of Wittgenstein, so these divided trajectories may never precipitate into any crisp shape. But let’s go on. Let’s start with this phrase from Emerson: “every word they say chagrins us.”6 Cavell calls it an “outcry” or “outburst,” and it is something he has never ceased exploring (2003, 145; 1989, 81). It comes from Emerson’s “Self-Reliance,” and shows up towards the end of a paragraph beginning with this sentence: “The objection to conforming to usages that have ­become dead to you is that it scatters your force” (Cavell 1989, 155). “Scattering your force,” taken as an objection, is additional confirmation of the inheritance of Emerson by Nietzsche that Cavell insists upon (2004, 212ff). But it is “conforming to usages that have become dead to you” that, by invoking dead usages, starts Wittgensteinian concerns. Wittgenstein began his notes for students now called The Blue Book by asking the question “What is the meaning of a word?” (BBB 1965, 1). But he refused to answer. He was afraid his students would succumb to the temptation to look around “for some object which you might call ‘the meaning’ (1).” Such an object would have to have special properties, unlike those of moist pine needles, and so Wittgenstein can smear such purported special properties as “occult” (4). Yet without occult meanings, we seem to be left with only material signs, a position close to formalism in mathematics, which Frege had ridiculed (4). It is Wittgenstein’s Blue Book articulation of Frege’s ridicule that bring us to death. Frege’s idea could be expressed thus: the propositions of mathematics, if they were just complexes of dashes, would be dead and utterly uninteresting, whereas they obviously have a kind of life… And further it seems clear that no adding of inorganic signs can make the proposition live. And the conclusion which one [such as Frege] draws from this is that what must be added to the dead signs in order to make a live proposition is something immaterial, with properties different from all mere signs.

Overcoming Chagrin in Cavell and Nietzsche  241 But [Wittgenstein comments] if we had to name anything which is the life of the sign, we should have to say it was its use. (4) In this passage, the use of signs, not special occult meanings, brings signs to life. This familiar Wittgensteinian ground nevertheless raises the natural question of what governs those uses. The Investigations returns to this issue asking what is it about use that brings life to signs: Every sign by itself seems dead. What gives it life? -- In use it lives. Is it there that it has living breath within it? -- Or is the use its breath? (PI §432) Does the living breath of meaning enter the word while it is in use, or is it rather that nothing enters, and it is the use itself which is the breath? It feels as though Wittgenstein is inclining towards the use itself being the breath of linguistic life. We were looking for linguistic death in Wittgenstein because Emerson spoke of “conforming to usages that have become dead to you”.7 But now it seems that Emerson’s is a different form of linguistic death which Wittgenstein, or anyway The Blue Book, had not prepared us for, namely, the fact that even properly used signs can sour. Or sounding more like Cavell, just out of the gate, we could say that we sometimes find ourselves feeling that there are proper usages we are no longer seriously able to mean, although what precisely that comes to is the question itself. For Wittgenstein, the use of signs was their life, but Emerson is chagrinned by proper uses that have become dead. How did we ever let ourselves be convinced that the proper was alive? Let’s now turn directly to what Cavell calls Emerson’s outcry or outburst against conforming to usages which have lost their lives, and thereby also against the emptied lives of those who don’t sense that their proper usages have soured, those who have succumbed to the most requested virtue, conformism.8 Here, then, is Emerson’s outcry, itself: This conformity makes them not false in a few particulars, authors of a few lies, but false in all particulars. Their every truth is not quite true. Their two is not the real two, their four not the real four; so that every word they say chagrins us and we know not where to begin to set them right.9 Who is this they, whose every word chagrins us? It is those who conform to names, customs, usages.10 Many of us, caught in the midst of an argument, find ourselves saying things like: Well, as a representative of [this or

242  Gordon C. F. Bearn that philosophical position], I would say… But our conversational partners knew that already: “if I know your sect I anticipate your argument”.11 When we catch ourselves doing this, we can be brought up sharp by our words sounding thin, formulaic, hollow. The very argument in which they appeared can seem suddenly merely mechanical or staged, thoughtless manekins dueling to the death. When we catch others doing this, our unease with their words can ricochet back to ourselves. Are my words any less formulaic? Their words, every word they say, chagrins us, chagrins me. Dictionaries tell us that what chagrins us gnaws at us, vexes or mortifies us, and this “mortifying” links chagrin to what Emerson calls usages that have become dead to us. Bringing in death makes chagrin bad enough, but what cranks it up for me is Emerson’s saying that in our chagrin “we know not where to begin to set them right” (Emerson 2014, 155). We don’t know where to begin to set them right, because the offending words are not wrong, they are being used correctly. How, nevertheless, can they be dead to us? 3  To help us understand what he is saying, Emerson, in the last lines of the same paragraph, reminds us of a “mortifying experience” of pushing out a “forced smile… in company where we do not feel at ease, in answer to conversation which does not interest us”.12 It’s a fine example of the thin, hollow, or formulaic. The very word “hollow” makes it seem that what is missing here is content, as though the form needed to be filled with genuine emotion or intention. There is a vulgar version of the methods of Stanislavski, what in the US is called his “system”, that promises just such a solution to chagrin, filling the hollow smile with memories of a joy. We might understandably be a little skeptical about whether a lying kiss could be turned into a true one, simply by filling it with memories of a different one, however true. But in this Wittgensteinian context, we should be particularly suspicious of the idea that the person forcing the smile could turn it into a genuine smile by adding the recollected experience of genuine smiles, for Wittgenstein insists that “[m]eaning something is as little an experience as intending” (PPF §279). Nevertheless if we restrict ourselves to theatrical acting, so that every smile, every word said, is literally on stage, scripted, we are still able to distinguish stronger, convincing stage acting from weaker stage acting, thin, hollow, and formulaic. So it is not incredible to imagine even Stanislavski offering some real help with the problem of chagrin. Cavell may even have had a sense of this. Early on in Little Did I Know, Cavell avers that, incited by a difficult moment in his relation to his father, and intending to explore the capacity

Overcoming Chagrin in Cavell and Nietzsche  243 of moral imagination to put oneself in someone else’s shoes, he signed up for an acting class at Berkeley whose text, by Stanislavski, was then called An Actor Prepares. Later on, Cavell will think the exercises in that class might be relevant to the existence of other minds, although in a way that his philosophy professors would have likely refused (2010, 14). If we remember that Wittgenstein felt that philosophical work was really work on oneself, we could be encouraged by the full title of Stanislavski’s An Actor’s Work, as it is now called (BT, 407/300e). The full title of Part I of that work is: “An Actor’s Work on Himself in the Creative Process of Experience,” Part II was similarly titled but was addressed to the creative process of physical characterization.13 Much of the work on oneself that Stanislavski presented in An Actor’s Work can be construed as invented to deal with chagrin, or at least the false smile. For example, in his chapter on Concentration and Attention, Stanislavski is trying to overcome the unsurprising phenomenon that when students rehearse on stage with the curtain closed, their performances are stronger than when, a moment later, the curtain is opened to the empty, dark hall. With the curtain opened, one of the students, reports: “without realizing it, I had gone right off the track and fallen victim to ‘playacting’”.14 Opening the curtain had revealed the “big black hole” of the auditorium and its possible audience. Somehow, the attraction of that darkness overpowered the concentration of the students, and their words began to sound as scripted as they were.15 The exercises on oneself prescribed by Stanislavski’s fictional representative, Tortsov, were designed to teach his students how to hold their concentration by learning to “look and see,” thus anticipating another well-known Wittgensteinian remark.16 Tortsov’s exercises involved things like blacking out the stage, leaving only one light illuminated on a little table. The various things on that table were then the only things in view and the hope was that if the students gave themselves over to the knickknacks, then those little things would be able to hold and deepen their attention. It is a spiritual no less than a dramatic practice, a spiritual practice that recalls the Nietzschean insistence I have already invoked, namely, that we give up the capitalized abstractions and focus on “…these petty things -- nourishment, place, climate, recreation, the whole casuistry of selfishness… It is right here that people should start to change their ways” (EH, 245). Tortsov’s exercises involved expanding and contracting that circle of attention so the students would come to be able to sink into those objects with the stage in full light, and even in front of a gaping black hole. Where successful, such exercises may have turned the little, petty objects into something other than props. Would it be too much to say that they might acquire “bloom and magic” (HH, 8)? A prop, whatever else it is, is symbolic. On stage, a clock on the mantle symbolizes a clock on the mantle, so

244  Gordon C. F. Bearn it is easy to register: it’s a clock. It can almost seem that the clock could be replaced by a little cardboard sign: C L O C K. The exercises of attention and concentration on the clock are meant to bring life back to the merely symbolic clock, and by means of that life, to help the scripted performance of the actor become more than merely scripted. Furthermore, this work on oneself is more generally relevant than simply to the theatrical situation, because, as Bergson never tired of insisting, we mostly don’t see things, we simply read the conventional labels we collude in attaching to them: “tree” “leaf” “stick” “bark”. When every word chagrins us, this can be attributed to their having become only symbols of communication rather than living communication. The problem is not, as one interpretation of the forced smile might imply, that our speaking is not filled with genuine emotion. During an investigation of what happens when we exclaim “Now I can go on!” Wittgenstein discovered that almost anything, or even nothing, may be going on in our minds while we are speaking, or speaking our lines (PI §151). Although someone’s stage acting might in this or that case be improved by reigniting old emotions, the general problem, on- or off-stage, of being chagrinned by every word, is not a problem of what emotional liquid we pour or do not pour into the proper uses of words. As Stanislavski suggests, we abandon ourselves to the singularity of the clock, not contenting ourselves with its being an instance of the category clock, so Cavell will suggest that we abandon ourselves to the singular history of each word. This is nothing we add from our side of speech, it is something we receive from the side of words. We are “abandoned” to our words (1994, 125). 4  Cavell is the reason I have been focusing on the Emersonian idea of our being chagrinned by correct uses of words becoming dead to us. But even before he took Emerson seriously, something like the idea chagrin appeared in Cavell’s writing as disappointment, our disappointment with criteria, which in his terms is almost to say our disappointment with our linguistic life itself (Cavell 1979, 79, 81, 83). Our disappointment with criteria is due to the fact that criteria do not answer the skeptic; indeed they make skepticism possible. There are criteria for being in pain, as there are for smiling, but it is precisely those criteria which the simulator enlists in simulating pains or smiles. Criteria, Cavell insists, are criteria for what kind of thing something is, but not for whether it exists or is real (51). “The difference between real and

Overcoming Chagrin in Cavell and Nietzsche  245 imaginary, between existence and absence, is not a criterial difference, not one of recognition” (51). It is from such a thought that Cavell reaches his difficult, but well-known result that there is a truth in or of skepticism, even if skepticism is not true (1979, 241). In an essay on Emerson, he tells us that Emerson’s correct answer to skepticism …does not consist in denying the conclusion of skepticism but in reconceiving its truth. It is true that we do not know the existence of the world with certainty; our relation to its existence is deeper -- one in which it is accepted, that is to say, received… [E]xistence is to be acknowledged. (1981, 133) Our relation to the existence of the world is not one of knowledge: we neither know the world with certainty nor fail to (1979, 45). What you may think of as the space between words and things, between being called a smile and being a smile, cannot be closed by criteria, and hence the threat of being chagrined by our every word can never be fully and finally set aside (51). Somehow, without obliterating the threat, something like reception or acceptance or acknowledgement is meant to silence the threat. For a spell. This momentary silence, peace and quiet, Wittgenstein’s Ruhe, is one aspect of what Cavell means by the ordinary (2001, 353–354). I will better be able to explain how this is meant to work if I draw on a related concept from early in Cavell’s writing career: alignment.17 In a memorable passage from his first defense of the philosophical appeal to what we say, Cavell imagines looking up the word “umiak” in a dictionary of the English language. He remarks that although dictionaries are not about boats, looking up that word will teach us both what an “umiak” means and what an umiak is. And he comments, “if this seems surprising, perhaps it is because we forget that we learn language and learn the world together, that they become elaborated and distorted together, and in the same places” (2002, 18). On the same page, Cavell names this feature of learning: “learning is a question of aligning language and the world” (18). What Emerson calls chagrin can itself be construed as a failure of alignment. When words properly used nevertheless become dead to us, it is as if they have fallen off things. Smiling appropriately but lifelessly, it is almost as if we pasted the smile on our lips. Apologies forced out of our mouths by parents. Reciting some philosophical argument, we feel it has lost its life. When we are chagrined by our words, things and words have fallen out of alignment. Overcoming chagrin will then be a matter of realignment. Cavell will describe this in terms of receiving each words literality, but it is more than what is usually meant by the literal meaning of a word.

246  Gordon C. F. Bearn In his book on Walden Cavell doesn’t speak of this deadening of language in terms of chagrin, but in terms of defeating literality, evading each word’s literality (1981, 63). In these terms, chagrin threatens us when we lose our grip on each word’s literality, when we speak formulaically, merely conforming to correct usage. Here is Cavell: In religion and politics, literality is defeated because we allow our choices to be made for us. In religion our hymn books resound with a cursing of God because the words are used in vain. We are given to say that man’s chief end is to glorify God and to enjoy him forever. But we do not let the words assess our lives, we do not mean what they could mean, so what we do when we repeat those words becomes the whole meaning of “man,” and “chief,” and “glorify,” and “God,” etc., in our lives; and that is a curse. (1981, 63–4) These instances of evading a word’s literality, where the “object named does not exist for us in its name,” are instances of chagrin (64). They will be overcome by returning to each word its literality. But what does Cavell mean by literality? Cavell invokes the notion of literality in a passage which begins: …we have a choice over our words, but not over their meaning. Their meaning is their language; and our possession of the language is the way we live in it, what we ask of it. (“To imagine a language is to imagine a form of life.”) (63) If we try to choose the meanings of our words, or fall in with the choices of those others to whom we would conform, then however correctly those words are employed, they will taste artificial in our mouths. Chagrin. The passage continues: That our meaning a word is a return to it and its return to us… is expressed by the word’s literality, its being just these letters, just here, rather than any others. (63) A word’s literality is linked to its materiality, its letters, and its literality is also, if I may put it this way, linked to the materiality of its long history of usages. As Virginia Woolf put it: “Words, English words, are full of echoes, of memories, of associations -- naturally. They have been out and about, on people’s lips, in their houses, in the streets, in the fields, for so many

Overcoming Chagrin in Cavell and Nietzsche  247 centuries… they are stored with so many meanings, with memories, they have contracted so many famous marriages.”18 And it is to those histories of the words themselves that Cavell would return. A word’s literality is, in effect, its entire genealogy, not a little nugget of meaning, but the whole history of its usage, the whole extraordinary energy it brings to its every appearance. Tracing and abandoning oneself to the genealogy of each use of every word is what I imagine Cavell to have meant by providing a transcendental deduction of every word in our language (1989, 81). Sometimes, he simply calls this process philosophizing (1979, 125). 5  What Cavell construes as “philosophizing” may be his answer to the existential discovery of chagrin, although he was not yet ready to call it chagrin (1979, 125). At this point he spoke of our words feeling “merely conventional” which is another aspect of words feeling thin, hollow, or formulaic, and that feeling is what chagrins me. This philosophizing is indeed a kind of work on oneself, a kind of caring for oneself that he first learned from Austin and Wittgenstein, even if his understanding of this philosophizing was further extended by his readings, first of Thoreau, and then of Emerson. Here he is: In philosophizing, I have to bring my own language and life to imagination. What I require is a convening of my culture’s criteria, in order to confront them with my words and life as I pursue them and as I may imagine them; and at the same time to confront my words and life as I pursue them with the life my culture’s words imagine for me: to confront the culture with itself, along the lines in which it meets in me. (1979, 125) Whatever else the convening of my culture’s criteria is, it seems to require a recollection of my words and life as I imagine them in order to confront them with the life my culture’s words imagine for me. When every word we say chagrins us by its mere conventionality, Cavell’s response is a grammatical investigation of the words of our shared language in order to reveal how the rich historical grammar of those words has, in our own mouths, become embarrassingly thinned, emptied. The idea seems to be that by reminding ourselves of the rich grammatical genealogy or our words, we will overcome chagrin, and bring our words once again to life. Someone might be skeptical about there even being a rich grammatical genealogy of our words, skeptical about what a grammatical investigation of a word like “chair” might turn up, or even how to begin such an investigation. For Cavell, since “learning is a question of aligning language and

248  Gordon C. F. Bearn the world” (2002, 18), it is no surprise that he is fond of the way the demonstrative in this line from the Blue Book, enforces the entanglement of grammar and our life with things: It is part of the grammar of the word “chair” that this is what we call “to sit on a chair”. (BBB, 24; Cavell 1979, 71) The relacing or realigning of our human lives with the word chair requires a grammatical investigation, and this relacing or realigning is a matter of memory. It involves being reminded of a variety of structurally, but not especially systematically connected aspects of our lives with chairs. In a late essay, Cavell notes that the articulation of the grammar of the word chair will recall that the family of things we call chairs, hence the family of postures we describe as sitting on a chair, plays a distinct family of roles in human existence, essentially related to (what we call) sitting on a canvas camp stool or on a fence or a swing or on a bottom step and hence related to getting up and standing still and walking and resting and chatting and dining and presiding and squatting or kneeling and cushioning and leaning and stretching out and writing alone for hours at a table. (2012, 24) The grammar of the word chair brings in an enormous swathe of linguistic life, and by recovering that swathe we can evade the formulaic emptiness of our uses of words which is the source of our chagrin. Later in the same essay Cavell remembers his teacher Ernest Bloch interrupting himself while teaching, to ask his class of composition students: “‘By the way, do you know what a triad is?”’ (2012, 26). Cavell implies that this was as incredible a question in that context, as any philosopher asking grownup students: by the way, do you know what a chair is? And when one of Bloch’s students offered an example of a triad – “‘Well C, E, G, for example’” – Bloch responded to the student by covering a wall of musical staves with an overwhelming variety of different versions of a the C, E, G triad, only commenting, when the board was full, that he could fill up another board with the various ways these triads would be affected by instrumentation, dynamics, surrounding musical phrases and so on (26). Bloch was introducing his students to the grammar of what is called a triad, in just the way Cavell began introducing his readers to the grammar for being a chair. This is how he would revive our linguistic life, or, given the role of language in our lives, we could say simply say: revive our life. Wittgenstein was an existential philosopher.

Overcoming Chagrin in Cavell and Nietzsche  249 Someone might wonder how this could ever work. What does it matter whether I know the literal, grammatical genealogy of our words, that history will be there whether or not I know it. My learning the genealogical grammar of my words changes nothing. But it does. It changes us, and therefore it changes our linguistic life. The sounds made by an orchestra are unchanged whether or not you can tell an oboe from a clarinet, but if you can hear that difference, then the orchestral sounds will be that much richer. Each word is like a symphony and when your life with language acknowledges more aspects of the grammar of each word, your use of each word will be richer, your linguistic life, more alive. Literally. In this passage, cited now a second time, Cavell says more or less just that: …we have a choice over our words, but not over their meaning. Their meaning is their language; and our possession of the language is the way we live in it, what we ask of it. (“To imagine a language is to imagine a form of life.”) (1981, 63) A word’s literality is linked to its materiality, including its spelling on the page, its sound in our voices, and the genealogy of its appearance at this singular moment in our mouths and on the page. Recovering that literality is how Cavell means to overcome chagrin, realigning words and things so that finally things begin to exist for us in their names (64). But for Cavell, recovering from Chagrin is not a place of excitement or dance or even life so much as a place of silence, of quiet. In the midst of an early discussion of the problem of other minds, focussing on pain, Cavell concludes a sketch of the grammar of the words pain and pleasure by remarking that rummaging so comfortably around in our life with those words “rather dampens the mood of worry about whether I ever know another is in pain” (1979, 78–79). I think this dampened mood is related to his thought, later on, that philosophizing is punctuated, both at its start and at is momentary end, by silence. He even says death (2001, 354). Another name for the silence which begins philosophy could be chagrin: The silence with which philosophy begins is the recognition of my lostness to myself, something Wittgenstein’s text figures as the emptiness of my words, my craving or insistence upon their emptiness, upon wanting them to do what human words cannot do. I read this disappointment with words as a function of the human wish to deny responsibility for speech. (2001, 353)

250  Gordon C. F. Bearn In addition to the themes I have already entered, Cavell here shows that there is a sense in which we bring chagrin, this opening emptiness, upon ourselves by trying to automate our speech, fruitlessly trying to secure it against that very emptiness which our failed efforts and automation deliver us to. Othello’s “I’ll have some proof” (Cavell 1979, 484). Cavell’s response to this silence is what he calls philosophizing, “a convening of my culture’s criteria” (125). But when we are reminded of the rich grammatical genealogy of each word we speak, we are delivered over again to silence. “The silence with which philosophy ends is the acceptance of the human life of words,” and Cavell tells us what this comes to in a series of five clauses which I have separated with dashes

— that I am revealed and concealed in every word I utter, — that when I have found the world I had lost, that is, displaced from

myself, it is up to me to acknowledge my reorientation (Wittgenstein describes the work of philosophy as having to turn our search around, as if reality is behind us), — that I have said what there is for me to say, — that this ground gained from discontent is all the ground I have, — that I am exposed in my finitude without justification. (2001, 353) Cavell remarks that what is hardest in the news that the end of philosophy is silence, a peace without proof or system, is that “being at the end of my words strikes me as being at the end of my life, exposed to death” (353). As surprising as this may be it is not too far from what it quite literally means to accept our human life with words. More surprising perhaps is that what Cavell calls philosophizing, punctuated by these two silences, can be construed in Socratic terms as learning how to die, and thus “in ordinary language philosophy the ordinary is the scene of the recognition of one’s own death” (353). Usages that have become dead to us are to be revived in such a way that our chagrin and our anxiety about what we say are, by grammatical investigations, silenced. It is a long way from Nietzsche’s life affirming turn from decadence. Nietzsche would overcome chagrin not by learning to die but by intensifying life, not by remembering, reorienting backwards, but by forgetting, by beginning anew: Innocence the child is and forgetting, a beginning anew, a play, a selfpropelling wheel, a first movement, a sacred Yes-saying. (TSZ, 24)

Overcoming Chagrin in Cavell and Nietzsche  251 6  My main text for this interpretation of forgetting as another way of overcoming chagrin will be Twilight of the Idols, from 1888, but I want to seed my reading with a few words from an earlier and possibly even more famous little essay characterizing a nonmoral sense of truth and lying, from 1873. The nonmoral sense of lying comes from Nietzsche’s interpretation of words and concepts. He suggests that every word begins by being a reminder of an utterly singular thing, although Nietzsche speaks not of things but of a “unique and entirely original experience” (TL 1979, 83). Nietzsche introduces this idea with a well-known Leibnizian example of singularity: the unique shape of each leaf, even from the same tree. Each word reminds us of just such a unique singularity. A word becomes a concept when it is enlisted to remind us of multiple different leaves, ignoring their differences. The mismatch between the general use of the word and all the different singular leaves can incite the invention of the meaning of the word “leaf” which putatively governs the use of that word to apply to all the different singular leaves. But, according to Nietzsche, as also to the author of the Investigations, there need be no meaning of the word “leaf” which regulates its usage according to a rule (see PI §82).19 And therewith comes the nonmoral sense of lying: every concept ignores the differences between leaves and so fibs them into a single kind. Here is Nietzsche summing this up: We obtain the concept, as we do the form, by overlooking what is individual and actual; whereas nature is acquainted with no forms and no concepts, and likewise no species, but only with an X which remains inaccessible and undefinable for us. (TL, 83) There are two aspects of this early account that become clearer in Twilight. The first is the disappearance of that inaccessible and undefinable X. What use could there be for this inaccessible X, “let us do away with it” (TI 2021, 63). The second is that overlooking the differences between singular things might have a pragmatic purpose, the nonmoral sense of lying might be used to accomplish some desired situation. Nietzsche: “We have long ago gone beyond what we have words for. In all speech there is a grain of contempt. It seems that language was only invented for the average, the middling, the communicative. With speech the speaker has already vulgarized himself” (103). But now, a quick glance at Twilight.

252  Gordon C. F. Bearn However motivated by mockery, Nietzsche’s Twilight of the Idols was nevertheless titled as if the ancient idols of the philosophical tradition were not going to be preserved. In complete contrast to Nietzsche’s shaking off traditional idols, Cavell would preserve them by returning to their genealogical origins. Nietzsche’s book was to be a “war” against all those ancient idols which Nietzsche’s delicate little hammer sounded out, only to discover “that famous hollow tone that speaks of bloated guts” (TI, 43). That hollow tone also speaks of what incites our chagrin at continuing to use words for those idols formulaically. For Cavell, a grammatical investigations of those idols, a convening our culture’s criteria, would be able silence that chagrin. Grammar, the literal, would be our way to overcome chagrin. But Nietzsche is afraid “we shall not get rid of God because we still have faith in grammar…” (TI, 60). From Nietzsche’s point of view, if thinking is impossible except in the atmosphere of grammar, then we will never be rid of God. But Nietzsche’s was a war against those ancient idols which were already in their twilight. All the ancient idols are hollow because they are only grammatical forms, the very features of concepts which made them lies in a nonmoral sense. In Twilight, this criticism appears under the dismissive heading “metaphysics of language”, and this hollow metaphysics is a result of grammar being what Nietzsche calls a science of forms: “like logic and that applied logic, mathematics. In these reality does not exist, not even as a problem” (60, 58).20 Cause, Being, Will, Truth: these are just words (60). But they are words which Nietzsche thinks are the “most believed in” (44). The firmness of that belief, the bullying laughter which still greats their criticism today, is a measure of the power of the ways we speak, even the ways we yearn to live. The virtue in most request? Conformity. In a section concerning what the German’s lack in the way of education, and by way of preserving his Yes-saying, Nietzsche defines three tasks for educators which are, in effect, three aspects of a spiritual practice breaking the very alignment Cavell seeks to recover by means of grammatical investigations. These three aspects of Nietzsche’s own educational practice are learning to see, learning to think, and learning to speak and write (85). To learn to see, we need “not to react at once to a stimulus” (86). Our immediate, routine responses blinker our vision in just the way that words in use conceal the unique, sensual singularity of each thing. But learning “to delay making judgement… to examine and grasp the individual case from all sides,” this takes strength (86). Paradoxically, the quick strong reaction comes from weakness; it takes strength to “be able to defer a decision” (86). Looking at things from all sides will reveal smells, sounds, beautiful sensual irregularities in the most common things. Each purportedly identifiable stick can reveal inordinate colors and textures and sounds

Overcoming Chagrin in Cavell and Nietzsche  253 and tastes, becoming so much more than what it was identified as: A Twig. This indeed is a way for the ordinary to become extraordinarily alive. To learn to think also requires learning to resist the old steps, the old plodding logical steps, breaking the familiar customary implications, removing our heavy boots, becoming lighter: thinking “as a form of dancing” (86). Learning to think is learning to think otherwise, initiating thinking as dancing, with the bright flashes of sensual singularity we may have found the strength to see, to enjoy. To learn to write is also to learn to dance, this time with ink and paper. “This mosaic of words where every word pours out its force as sound, as place, as concept, right and left and all around, this minimum in range and number of signs, this maximum of energy in the signs thereby received” (125–126). These practices sever the alignment of words and things, releasing dancing singular things and words from their learned alignment with each other. Chagrin in this way is overcome by forgetting, by forgetting grammar, forgetting the idols, coming at last to enjoying: dancing the “innocence of becoming” (76). Dancing right over chagrin. 7  Emerson’s mentioning chagrin illuminated the ways in which even properly used words, used by others or by ourselves, can mortify us. But it is not just words. Properly resolving into the tonic in the cadence of clarinet sonata, or properly using the word “outrage”, or recognizably sketching a cat or John Lennon, each of these properly performed procedures can sour. They can come to seem thin, hollow, formulaic. And this feeling has its own expansive power so that we can sometimes feel that every word they say chagrins us. Cavell overcomes chagrin by recalling more and more of the grammar of resolving into the tonic, or the grammar of the word “outrage”, or the visual grammar of portraiture. Such grammatical investigations, the convening of my culture’s criteria, reaching back to the whole linguistic or musical or pictorial history of those practices, can bring us to a place where we find that our chagrin rather evaporates. I do not deny that this can happen, although it is never more than momentary. It happened to Cavell in his early grammatical investigations of pain and pleasure (1979, 78–79). Wittgenstein himself counts on, or hopes it happens to his readers when they approach the same philosophical landmark from many, and many more, directions, with luck, achieving peace, for a spell. It happens to many of us when, while reading Austin, we can then seem to feel for a moment that our concerns about knowing it was a goldfinch, have dissipated into silence. The deadening of merely correct usages dissipates as we recover the

254  Gordon C. F. Bearn rich historical grammar of every word, this brings us quiet and silence, recognition of our own death, our finitude (Cavell 2001, 354). Cavell’s overcoming of chagrin, taking our words, our tones, our lines, seriously, is however not the only way chagrin can be overcome. Nietzsche danced his overcoming. The way to dancing is to realize that while grammatical forms are general, they are instanced in singularities. Every properly resolved cadence is more than a properly resolved cadence. Every word properly used and properly pronounced is more than properly pronounced and properly used. Every line indicating John Lennon’s little round glasses does more than represent those little round glasses. This is the side of the problem of participation that unleashes dancing. Becoming-lithe. Every F#, from the same octave, is the same F#, whatever instrument it is played on. But there is a difference between that F# on a cello or on a clarinet or an oboe. And there are differences in sound even between clarinets, differences we attend to when we are deciding which clarinet to purchase or to perform with tonight. And even on the very same clarinet each production of that F# sounds differently. For grammatical or harmonic purposes we won’t mostly care, but the differences remain and they reach out to us differently. In order to feel them, it helps to break the grammar, to write agrammatically, or as with Cage, to prepare the piano.21 We can dance our way right over chagrin by approaching the linguistic and other aspects of our lives agrammatically. If we would but attend affectionately to the irregularities of every singular thing, we could enjoy the boundless novelty in every utterance, every sound, every line. If we do, we may find that every little pine needle expands and swells with sympathy. What bloom and magic they have acquired. Notes 1 “Where are you going? Where are you coming from? What are you heading for? These are totally useless questions” (Deleuze and Guattari 1987, 25). 2 Emerson 2014, 71 3 Thoreau 2012, 305. 4 Cavell 2003, Zavatta 2019. 5 Cavell 1990a, 36, 46; Foucault 1985, 9. 6 Emerson 2014, 155. 7 Emerson 2014, 155. 8 Emerson 2014, 153. 9 Emerson 2014, 155. 10 Emerson 2014, 153. 11 Emerson 2014, 155. 12 Ibid. 13 Benedetti 2004, 103. 14 Stanislavski 2017, 93.

Overcoming Chagrin in Cavell and Nietzsche  255 5 Stanislavski 2017, 95. 1 16 Stanislavski 2017, 96; see PI §66. 17 My focus here on alignment was provoked by the use of that notion by my colleague Filippo Casati in his studies of Cavell and logic. 18 Woolf 1942, 203. Here at a similar place is Ezra Pound: And the good writer chooses his words for their ‘meaning’, but that meaning is not a set, cut-off thing like the move of a knight or a pawn on a chessboard. It comes up with roots, with associations, with how and where the word is familiarly used, or where it has been used brilliantly or memorably. (Pound 1960, 36) 19 The Investigations opens with a description of a linguistically mediated shopping trip which can be understood without raising any question about the meanings of the words involved (PI §1). Soon enough we are told that the “general concept of the meaning of a word surrounds the working of language with a haze which makes clear vision impossible” (PI §5). The very notion of the rule by which we proceed loses its strength when (i) we don’t look up the rule in order to proceed and (ii) don’t give the rule when asked to supply one, and (iii) where it is a mathematical triviality that for any way of proceeding, there are countless rules that would descriptively model that way of proceeding (PI §82). 20 Conversation with my colleague Barry Hulsizer drew my attention to this dimension of Twilight. 21 In his 2018, Venturinha provides a provocative reading of Wittgenstein, himself, as drawn to agrammatical writing and so rather dissatisfied with his own philosophical prose (167).

Works Cited Benedetti, J. (2004). Stanislavski: An Introduction. New York: Routledge. Cavell, S. (1979). The Claim of Reason. New York: Oxford University Press. ———. (1981). Senses of Walden, an expanded edition. San Francisco: North Point Press. ———. (1989). This New Yet Unapproachable America. Albuquerque, NM: Living Batch Press. ———. (1990a). Conditions Handsome and Unhandsome. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. ———. (1990b). Contesting Tears: The Hollywood Melodrama of the Unknown Woman. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. ———. (1994). A Pitch of Philosophy. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. ———. (2001). “Silences Noises Voices,” in Floyd, J. & Shieh, S. (eds.) Future Pasts: The Analytic Tradition in Twentieth Century Philosophy. New York: Oxford University Press. ———. (2002). Must We Mean What We Say? (first published: 1969). New York: Cambridge University Press. ———. (2003). Emerson’s Transcendental Etudes, ed. by David Justin Hodge. Stanford: Stanford University Press

256  Gordon C. F. Bearn ———. (2004). Cities of Words: Pedagogical Letters on a Register of the Moral Life. Cambridge MA: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press. ———. (2010). Little Did I Know: Excerpts from Memory. Stanford: Stanford University Press. ———. (2012). “Philosophy as the Education of Grownups,” in Saito & Standish 2012, 19–32. Deleuze, G. & Guattari, F. (1987). A Thousand Plateaus. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Emerson, R.W. (2014). The Portable Emerson, ed. by J.S. Cramer. New York: Penguin Books. Foucault, M. (1985).The Use of Pleasures. New York: Pantheon Books. Pound, E. (1960). A B C of Reading. New York: New Directions Paperback. Saito, N. & Standish, P. (eds.) (2012). Stanley Cavell and the Education of Grownups. New York: Fordham University Press. Stanislavski, C. (2017). An Actor’s Work. New York: Routledge. Venturinha, N. (2018). “Agrammaticality”, in New Essays on Frege, ed. by G. Bengtsson, A. Pichler, S. Säätelä, Cham: Springer, 159–175. Woolf, V. (1942). “Craftsmanship,” in The Death of the Moth. New York: Harcourt Brace. Zavatta, B. (2019). Individuality and Beyond: Nietzsche Reads Emerson. New York: Oxford University Press.

11 A Remark on “the Particular Peace” in Philosophy in Wittgenstein and Nietzsche Peter K. Westergaard

Don’t stop thinking! Let me begin by admitting a certain personal disquiet in relation to the discussion that follows. In Wittgenstein’s Philosophical Investigations, the cluster of remarks about philosophy concludes with the well-known remark that “[t]he real discovery is the one that makes me capable of stopping doing philosophy when I want to”. He adds that what he hopes to achieve through his remarks on philosophy is a linguistic grammatical clarification “that gives philosophy peace” (PI §133). Which, he says, “simply means that the philosophical problems should completely disappear” (PI §133). Judging from these remarks, it would seem that what Wittgenstein wants is an end to philosophising. “Thoughts that are at peace. That’s what someone who philosophizes yearns for” (CV 1980, 43). His philosophical enquiries are “conceptual investigations” (Z §458) that carry an impetus towards their own dissolution. Not only do the descriptions of philosophy and the work of clarifying our forms of representation solve the problems of philosophy; they also abrogate the need for philosophical practice: thinking. It has been claimed, for example, that these remarks confront us with “the striking fact that the principal philosopher [Wittgenstein] of the twentieth century was intent upon the dissolution of philosophy and the destruction of its central problems”.1 And yet not so! For we also have Maurice O’C. Drury’s account of his final meeting with Wittgenstein and their parting in April 1951. A friend and student of Wittgenstein, Drury tells us that Wittgenstein accompanied him to the station in Cambridge, where, “before the train pulled out he said to me, ‘Drury, whatever becomes of you, don’t stop thinking.’”2 At first glance, Wittgenstein’s statements that the objective of philosophy should be its own cessation seem incompatible with his injunction to Drury not to stop thinking. But on closer consideration, this is not the case. For Wittgenstein, thinking can still continue after philosophy has performed its conceptual clean-up work. If paradoxes are what one wants, then

DOI: 10.4324/9781003219071-14

258  Peter K. Westergaard Wittgenstein’s cessation of thinking, the fact that thinking is brought to rest, is in fact the beginning of thinking. And it is in seeking to clarify this aspect of Wittgenstein’s thought that Nietzsche can be of help. Let me begin at the beginning. A number of affinities between Wittgenstein and Nietzsche are fairly obvious. But so too are the differences between the two. Both the affinities and the differences have been established in many contexts. In the following, I will focus on a train of thought in the late Nietzsche that exhibits certain similarities with several of Wittgenstein’s remarks on philosophy as such and the nature of its objectives. In drawing these parallels, I wish to emphasise, and perhaps even overemphasise, some of Nietzsche’s late remarks on the same subject. I shall also read several of Wittgenstein’s remarks in the light of those of Nietzsche in order to clarify Wittgenstein’s account of the objectives of philosophy and his words to Drury: Don’t stop thinking! Thus, I invite the reader to see Wittgenstein’s philosophy from a Nietzschean perspective. And I do so in the conviction that this approach will throw light on certain aspects of Wittgenstein’s late remarks on the “particular peace of mind [die besondere Beruhigung]” (BT, 416/307e) for which philosophy strives. In more general terms, in the following I present a Nietzschean reading of certain features of and ideas in Wittgenstein’s remarks on philosophy. At the same time, this undertaking encompasses a particular reading of the prefaces Nietzsche wrote for the new editions of The Birth of Tragedy, Human, All Too Human I and II, Daybreak, and The Gay Science that were published in 1886–87. These prefaces are my primary point of reference in Nietzsche. One essential underlying assumption in the following is that Nietzsche and Wittgenstein share a desire to guide the reader back to himself and his world. Both wish to lead the individual “back” to a situation from which he has become remote, namely himself and his surroundings. Both assume that the route home can be found through the practice of philosophy and that this practice will point the individual back to “the rough ground” (PI §107) where he belongs. Both advocate the motto: “Peace all around me and goodwill to all things closest to me” (WS §350). It is a motto and an attitude that points the individual back to a more nuanced and deeper view of himself and his landscapes. The point I wish to establish with the following Nietzschean clarification of the grammar of “the peace of philosophy”, is that one aspect of the “particular peace of mind” that philosophy aims for is a renewed ability “to go down deep” into our “most immediate and familiar surroundings” (MS 131, 182), and that “to go down deep” does not imply a cessation of thinking, but rather the injunction not to stop thinking. In short, my aim in the following is to pursue the trajectory of Nietzsche’s reflections on his own development and philosophical practice in the aforementioned prefaces in order to tease out certain meanings of

A Remark on “the Particular Peace” in Philosophy  259 Wittgenstein’s remarks on the “particular peace” of philosophy. In this context, “peace” is to be understood as a particular attitude of being at ease or familiar with oneself and one’s world, which includes a determination to continue thinking, and which I call Wille zur Durchsichtigkeit – will to transparency. To this end, I shall also explore Wittgenstein’s extensive ruminations on philosophy in his Pre-War Investigations (TS 220, 66–93), and the well-known cluster of remarks on the same in Philosophical Investigations.3 And in addition to Nietzsche’s late prefaces, I shall also briefly consider his remarks on “active forgetting” and a “second innocence” in On the Genealogy of Morals with reference to the “three metamorphoses” from Thus Spoke Zarathustra. From a slightly different angle, in Nietzsche’s account of his own philosophical practice, he occasionally returns to a description of the particular state that ensues as a result of critical philosophical thinking. It is a state characterised by a certain duality, viz., in part a calmness and willingness to act, in part a sober-minded openness to complexity and becoming. Here, peace is not a form of passive stagnation, but rather an attitude towards everyday life that encompasses an “everyday thinking”, an attitude that acknowledges and is attentive to the in-depth grammar of everyday life. In the following, I shall place the account of this state in dialogue with Wittgenstein’s remarks on the work and effects of philosophy, as exemplified by those that concern “clearing up the ground of language” (PI §118) and “peace” (PI §133). Thus, I begin by taking a closer look at Nietzsche and his account of the philosopher’s path to conceptual clarity, which gives the philosopher peace. Subsequently, I take a closer look at the content and features of this mode – “second innocence” and “forgetfulness” – before moving on to an examination of Wittgenstein’s remarks on the same subject in the light of Nietzsche’s discussions. Perhaps some will already be a little sceptical about my declared intention to explore Nietzsche’s use of a benign concept of “peace”. For it is well known that Nietzsche typically associates those who “seek quiet, stillness, calm sea, redemption from themselves through art and insight”, with the type of people “who suffer from an impoverishment of life” and who seek to distance themselves from the vicissitudes and turbulence of life – in contrast to “those who suffer from a superabundance of life” and are “capable of turning any desert into bountiful farmland” (GS 2001, §370). As we know, Nietzsche had reservations about the former. But at the same time, he remains aware that the desire for quietness – like the desire for destruction and the will to immortalise – “prove ambiguous upon closer examination”. For while an inner calm can be a state that releases and isolates the individual from his environment, as it does when it equates with evasion and personal insecurity, on the other hand it can also “be the expression of an overflowing energy pregnant with the future”, a state that

260  Peter K. Westergaard allows the individual to experience “the present” and to flourish (GS §370). A state in which “peace” amounts to a desire for “becoming [Werden]”, a desire for all that is in motion, emerging and changing, and hence the opposite of “a desire for fixing, for immortalising, for being [Sein]” (GS §370). Wittgenstein and Nietzsche both talk in their respective ways about “peace” as becoming. And perhaps some will accuse me of ignoring some of Wittgenstein’s central ideas and of presenting “the ordinary thing – with the wrong gesture” (Z §451). Which may well be the case! But what interests me here or what I wish is to read Wittgenstein in the light of Nietzsche in order to uncover a little of what Wittgenstein might have had in mind when he uttered his parting injunction to Drury. Let me come to the point. The great liberation In recent decades, Nietzsche’s prefaces to the second editions of The Birth of Tragedy, Human, All Too Human I and II, Daybreak and The Gay Science in 1886–87 have attracted renewed interest. As has frequently been pointed out, collectively they form a kind of autobiographical account of “how each book took its place in the arc of his becoming a philosopher”.4 The prefaces constitute an autobiographical story of personal developmental, in which Nietzsche describes the circumstances and questions from which his thinking grew, the course and content of his authorship. ­Nietzsche himself proposed this interpretation in his letters. His prefaces describe “a kind of ‘developmental story’” (KSB 8, 908). In the following I will sketch a train of thought contained in the prefaces that strikes a t­ ypological note, an approach that presupposes a view of the prefaces as an ­autobiographically framed narrative exemplifying the philosopher’s path to conceptual clarity, that which gives the philosopher peace. Nietzsche himself alludes to this typological approach. Nietzsche ends the preface to Human, All Too Human II by asking: “Shall my experience – the history of an illness and recovery, for a recovery was what eventuated – have been my personal experience alone? And only my ‘human, all-too-human’? ­Today I would like to believe the reverse; again and again I feel sure that my travel books were not written solely for myself, as sometimes seems to be the case” (HH 1987 II, Preface 6). In making this point, I wish simultaneously to suggest an affinity between the descriptive genre of Nietzsche’s prefaces and especially Wittgenstein’s expansive discussion of philosophy in the Pre-War Investigations, an enquiry that also constitutes an autobiographically framed narrative in which Wittgenstein describes the circumstances and questions from which his respective thinking grew, and the course and content of his own authorship. It too is an account with typological characteristics. A central and

A Remark on “the Particular Peace” in Philosophy  261 recurring metaphor in both Nietzsche’s and Wittgenstein’s accounts is “sickness – health” / “sickness – recovery”. And in his prefaces, Nietzsche even attributes his personal liberation, or that of philosophy, and the discovery of the path to himself and his authentic thought to the fact that he “turned” his “perspective around” (HH II, Preface 5). This foreshadows Wittgenstein’s words that “the axis of reference of our examination must be rotated, but about the fixed point of our real need” (PI §108). It is this turning around that duly results in “the great health” (GS §382), which for its own part is characterised as the healthy, liberating relationship to life that allows one to “‘become a man’ again” (D, Preface 1). This turning around, Nietzsche claims, is the root of “what is most important”. Ultimately, “from such abysses, from such severe illness, also from the illness of severe suspicion, one returns newborn, having shed one’s skin, more ticklish and malicious, with a more delicate taste for joy, with a more tender tongue for all good things, with merrier senses, joyful with a more dangerous second innocence, more childlike, and at the same time a hundred times subtler than one had been before” (GS, Preface 4). What I want to focus on in the following is the relationship between, on the one hand, this condition of “return[ing] newborn”, an outcome for Nietzsche of his philosophical work, and on the other Wittgenstein’s allusion to the “particular peace of mind” that philosophy seeks and achieves. Let us now take a closer look at Nietzsche’s typological account in the prefaces, concerning the path to the state that allows one to “‘become a man’ again”. Viewed as a single narrative, the account Nietzsche gives in his new prefaces of his authorship and thinking, with the accompanying elements of sickness, recovery, relapse, convalescence, and health, is laid out as an Entwicklungsgeschichte. It describes a development or trajectory towards ever-greater clarity. The narrative describes a formative journey, in the course of which a fettered spirit undergoes a metamorphosis to a free spirit. Nietzsche recounts how he found “the way to ‘myself’, to my task” (HH II, Preface 4) and points out the conditions under which the individual can become a free spirit, with a “more dangerous innocence, more childlike”. The prefaces emphasise that the author has a “peculiar scruple” which is, in effect, morality, a scruple that challenges us to regard morality as a human, all-too-human concern that has no anchorage in absolute, transcendent, and divine values. “My writings have been called a schooling in suspicion” (HH I, Preface 1). Nietzsche describes how the exercise of suspicion compels the one who entertains it to pause once in a while, and that this relaxation from suspicion opens the mind for new and essential insights that may further clarify thought: “[i]t is only now, at the midday of our life, that we understand what preparations, bypaths, experiments, temptations, disguises the problem had need of before it was allowed to

262  Peter K. Westergaard rise up before us, and how we first had to experience the most manifold and contradictory states of joy and distress in soul and body, as adventurers and circumnavigators of that inner world called ‘man’” (HH I, Preface 7). His account also takes the form of a story that describes how an individual achieves selfhood by first seeking distance from the self. In describing the conditions under which “one becomes what one is”, Nietzsche distinguishes between the steps that lead to the “mature freedom of spirit”, which is also “the sign of great health” (HH I, Preface 4). The route to great health goes via “a great liberation” (HH I, Preface 3) and a number of “midway conditions” (HH I, Preface 4). The first decisive condition for the formation of a free spirit is Loslösung from the state of being a fettered spirit (HH I, Preface 3). The fettered spirit is one that does not act freely, because it sees itself confined and chained “to its pillar and corner”; the various philosophical, moral and religious ideals that are handed down to us, in other words, the inherited ideals that we assume to be the highest values and truths, whereas they are in fact pure constructs that fail to represent the inherent value of life and the world. Here Nietzsche is thinking of Platonism, Christianity, and dogmatic philosophy with its “poor superstition” of conflicting values. Such systems of thought claim the existence of a different, more exalted world than the real one. Platonism, Christianity, and dogmatic philosophy all propose alternative, postulated, imaginary worlds that form the measure of every value that is considered desirable and worth striving for: Plato’s world of ideas, Christianity’s realm of the divine beyond, and the various rational and logic-bound systems of philosophy. All of these deny the real world and render its associated values nihil, null and void, relative to the constructed counter-world and its imaginary counter-values. As a consequence of the bonds that bind the fettered spirit to this counter-world and its counter-values, all assessments of the good, the true, and the beautiful are rooted not in the abundance, variability, and becoming of the real world, but in the supposedly exalted and eternal nature of the other imaginary world. The fettered spirit is the nihilist. The fettered spirit is spellbound by, feels at home in, and is committed to the mindset and values of the metaphysics inherited by tradition. The attitudes, longings, and ultimate goals of the fettered spirit are determined by ideals beyond “the rough ground”. Here Nietzsche also has in mind the “crude errors and over-estimations” of his own thinking, the fetters that bound him to the “romantic pessimism” of Schopenhauer and Wagner (GS §370). Nietzsche points out that the consequences of the “great liberation” and its impact on the fettered spirit are ambiguous. Certainly, when it comes, the emancipation is sudden, like “the shock of an earthquake”, “the youthful soul is all at once convulsed, torn loose, torn away – it itself does not know what is happening” (HH I, Preface 3). And in being torn free from

A Remark on “the Particular Peace” in Philosophy  263 its accustomed shackles, the fettered spirit is placed at a distance from itself. Written in 1876, the fourth of Nietzsche’s early Untimely Meditations, entitled Richard Wagner in Bayreuth, amounted to his own “liberation, a farewell” (HH II, Preface 1). It was his “first victory”, the first hesitant step towards selfhood as a free spirit, a victory that is at the same time “a sickness that can destroy the man” who has it (HH I, Preface 3). Hence the ambiguity: liberation is dangerous. The first manifestation of strength and will to achieve autonomy, to determine values for oneself, is ambivalent. The emancipation awakens curiosity and a will to conquer. “Better to die than to go on living here.” But emancipation drives the fettered spirit away from the “home” to which he was bound. The spirit is moved by a restlessness and curiosity, which encompasses a “sudden terror and suspicion of what it loved”, a scepticism towards what was hitherto taken for granted (HH I, Preface 3). Emancipation leaves one free to encounter life, phenomena, and the world on one’s own terms, to examine and sample things that have hitherto had a bad reputation, things that were previously condemned. But at the same time, it is a sickness, insofar as the restlessness, curiosity and yearning it brings with it manifest themselves without any plan or objective. Henceforth one lacks both fetters and coordinates. In short: “I don’t know my way about” (PI §123). Recall the madman’s description of man’s “continuously falling away” from all suns into a colder, darker empty space (GS §125). According to Nietzsche, this aimlessness and scepticism culminates in a new form of nihilism, one of a different kind from the nihilism of the fettered spirit. This restless, aimless curiosity concludes that meaning as such no longer exists: “Presupposition of this hypothesis. That there is no truth; that there is no absolute nature of things, no ‘thing-in-itself’. – This is itself a nihilism, and indeed the most extreme one” (KSA 12, 9 [35], 351). Nihilism is now also a consequence of the “history of the great emancipation”, of the liberation from the condition of being fettered, rather than of the bonds that bind one to an imaginary counter-world. It is a nihilism that encompasses a sickness, a “morbid isolation” from the world. The individual is cast out and alone. But at the same time this sickness is a means for the individual to transcend nihilism. Thus nihilism contains a “fish-hook of knowledge” that can lead “to that mature freedom of spirit”. A freedom that stems from a “self-mastery and discipline of the heart”, and which “permits access to many and contradictory modes of thought” (HH I, P 4). Eventually one makes a personal, well-thought-out effort to explore everything: to undertake a critical, self-controlled investigation. Accordingly, the emancipated person turns his gaze towards himself and examines the premises and motives behind his own attitudes. And in doing so he returns to the place, the surroundings, the world he left behind. But by this point he is free of his former bonds to the ideals; he has recovered from the

264  Peter K. Westergaard “fever” of the sickness, and is no longer in thrall to the values of the fettered spirit and categorical “Yes and no!” For now he has moved beyond the moral, religious, and dogmatic philosophical judgments that previously blocked his view of what was closest to him. Previously, he saw the world in the light of imagined and constructed ideals. Now he sees it in all its abundance, richness of nuance, and Farbenpracht [splendour of colour] (GS §152). Here he has achieved mature intellectual freedom, the condition also characterised as “the great health”. A health that encompasses a “superfluity of formative, curative, moulding and restorative forces” (HH I, Preface 4). All things closest to me Having achieved this metamorphosis, the philosopher leaves his moral, religious and dogmatic philosophical prejudices behind him. He is free from the “pillar and corner” to which he was previously chained, from where he was unable to see what was closest to him. Previously, he saw himself and his surroundings in the light of imagined and constructed ideals. Now he sees the full abundance, variety and Farbenpracht of both himself and his surroundings. By means of this transformation, Nietzsche concludes, the free spirit finds its way closer to life – albeit by gradual steps. As he puts it: It again grows warmer around him, yellower, as it were; feeling and feeling for others acquire depth, warm breezes of all kind blow across him. It seems to him as if his eyes are only now open to what is close at hand. He is astonished and sits silent: where had he been? These close and closest things: how changed they seem! what bloom and magic they have acquired! (HH I, Preface 5) Freed from his bonds and ideals and healed from his sickness, he is surprised by a new happiness and love for all that is close. He recognises the “depth” of his surroundings, and having sloughed off his “hardness and self-alienation”, he adopts a new attitude. His journey has brought him to a new perspective that includes a new openness towards himself, his surroundings, and the world. This is how Nietzsche describes the new qualities, gaze and state of calm of the homecomer: What a good thing he had not always stayed ‘at home’, stayed ‘under his own roof’ like a delicate apathetic loafer! He had been beside himself: no doubt of that. Only now does he see himself – and what surprises he experiences as he does so! What unprecedented shudders! […]

A Remark on “the Particular Peace” in Philosophy  265 How he loves to sit sadly still, to spin out patience, to lie in the sun! Who understands as he does the happiness that comes in winter, the spots of sunlight on the wall! They are the most grateful animals in the world, also the most modest, these convalescents and lizards. (HH I, Preface 5) The return to oneself and one’s environment after shaking off the shackles of the fettered spirit constitutes the attainment of great health. It is the calm intoxication of convalescence, “an amusement after long privation and powerlessness, the jubilation of returning strength” – “the gratitude of a convalescent” (GS, Preface 1). Finally, lest what is most important remain unsaid: from such abysses, from such severe illness, also from the illness of severe suspicion, one returns newborn, having shed one’s skin, more ticklish and malicious, with a more delicate taste for joy, with a more tender tongue for all good things, with merrier senses, joyful with a more dangerous second innocence, more childlike, and at the same time a hundred times subtler than one had been before. (GS, Preface 4) The “golden watchword” of the homecomer is: “Peace all around me and goodwill to all things closest to me” (WS §350). But what does it mean in more precise terms for the homecomer to be surrounded by peace and quiet and the good neighbour of everything close? My suggestion is that one’s physical surroundings assume greater depth, an unimpeded transparency and immediacy – that the human attitude is, as Nietzsche puts it, “more childlike”, “innocent”, and marked by “forgetfulness”. Let me elaborate on these three qualities. The consequences of the great liberation are one of the themes in Zarathustra’s first speech “On the Three Metamorphoses” in Thus Spoke Zarathustra. Here the attitude of the homecomer is described as possessing the immediacy of the child’s relationship to life. The transformation from submissive, tradition-laden camel to the lion who fights for freedom by challenging every “Thou shalt” returns the individual to a condition comparable to the uninhibited spirit of the child. Nietzsche asks: “Why must the preying lion still become a child?” His answer: “The child is innocence and forgetting, a new beginning, a game, a selfpropelled wheel, a first movement, a sacred ‘Yes’.” And concerning the active moment that this attitude entails, he adds: “For the game of creation, my brothers, a sacred ‘Yes’ is needed: the spirit now wills his own will, and he who had been lost to the world now conquers his own” (TSZ, I, On the Three Metamorphoses).

266  Peter K. Westergaard This familiar and paradigmatic account of the emancipated homecomer has a number of characteristics. At this point, I shall merely draw attention to that of the active aspect (“a new beginning”), and that the individual who is lost to the world has gained an attitude marked by “innocence and forgetting”. These qualities are consequences of the recognisant gaze turned on the world and the close relationship to it – “a sacred ‘Yes’”. Both figure in the preface’s description of the convalescent’s progress from sickness to health. With his recovery, the individual acquires “a more dangerous second innocence”. He becomes “more childlike”, and, Nietzsche adds in the preface to The Gay Science: “oh, how we learn now to forget well” (GS, Preface 4). “Innocence” and “forgetfulness” also play a part later on in On the Genealogy of Morals, which speaks of the “kind of second innocence” (GM 2006, II, §20) that manifests itself with the unmasking of “the consciousness of guilt” (GM II, §19) and “the maximum feeling of guilt” (GM II, 20), which the individual had imposed on himself with the acceptance of the Christian (creditor) God. Here, the “second innocence” is used to denote the new state that follows as a consequence of transcending and thus emancipating oneself from previously self-imposed misunderstandings. The “second innocence” is in one sense a return to an earlier state, and yet not so in another, insofar as it presupposes a course of sickness. The “second innocence” is a consequence of what has been overcome. That which is overcome is absorbed or assimilated into the new innocence and the new attitude of innocence. The first innocence was the state one experienced prior to developing and adopting the sense of guilt, while the second innocence occurs as a result of “the great suspicion” (GS, Preface 3) and the great liberation, which returns the individual to the world. The latter is therefore a new and more refined form of innocence. In short, the condition of “the child” or the homecomer is not that of a return to naivety, but “a more dangerous second innocence”, given that “a reversion, a return in any sense or degree is simply not possible” (TI 1982, Skirmishes of an untimely man, 43). At the same time, “forgetting” is characterised as a marker of the condition’s form of “spontaneity” or “immediacy” (GM II, 1). Nietzsche regards “forgetting” as a positive force that provides scope for something new and an open-minded view of the self and the surrounding world. The “active forgetfulness” constitutes a farewell to everything that has accumulated to become a burden on the philosopher’s “craft”. The childlike state is characterised by a dynamic of remembering and forgetting, as we find explained in the introduction to the second essay in On the Genealogy of Morals. Here the question under consideration is that of the transformation of man from animal to a being capable of promising. Initially, the human being was naturally inclined to forgetfulness, meaning that he had

A Remark on “the Particular Peace” in Philosophy  267 to struggle to acquire the ability to remember. This latter ability is a precondition for being able to formulate and keep a promise, and hence also a precondition for becoming “calculable, regular, necessary” (GM II, 1). As an ability, memory is therefore a kind of counterpart to natural forgetfulness, and “forgetfulness” is seen as a natural-historical fact that is weakened by memory, and which has to be recovered – or recalled! Nietzsche situates “to make promises” alongside the opposing human force of “forgetfulness”. He points out that “[f]orgetfulness is not just a vis inertia, as superficial people believe, but is rather an active ability to suppress, positive in the strongest sense of the word” and a precondition for “a form of robust health” (GM II, 1). The reason for this is that an overactive memory impels us to cling on to the past and its thought forms, which then prevent us from being open to ourselves and the physical world – to rudimentary experience. “Forgetfulness” sharpens, focuses, and concentrates attention on “all things closest to me”. Nietzsche points out that active forgetfulness makes room for “a little peace, a little tabula rasa of consciousness […] for something new, above all for the nobler functions and functionaries”. Further: “there could be no happiness, cheerfulness, hope, pride, immediacy, without forgetfulness” (GM II, 1). Here “forgetfulness” should not be regarded as a straightforward loss of or erasure of memory, as in the case of the man who drowns “im Meere der Vergessenheit” (KSA 8, 11 [18], 204). Rather, active forgetfulness entails the ability to let the past lie, to set it aside. “Forgetfulness” is not a form of aphasia, unconscious instinct, or unreflective behaviour, but rather an active and in the strictest sense positive faculty of repression: the ability to ignore and not let oneself be determined by the mindset of the past.5 It implies not the forgetting of past mistakes, but an active capacity to step beyond mistakes and their consequences in order to maintain immediacy. It is a setting aside that nevertheless amounts to retention. A qualified looking away from. A kind of forgetting at the discretion of memory. The antithesis of the actively forgetful person is “a dyspeptic” who lacks the ability to renounce or finish anything: “The fly that can’t get through the glass” (KSA 9, 6 [430], 308). In summary, Nietzsche’s autobiographically framed and typological description of the task and objective of philosophy leads us to an account of the desirable state of clarity and peace that replaces bewilderment and agitation. He describes a metamorphosis from weakness and sickness to strength and recovery, from the emancipation of the fettered spirit to “the mature freedom of spirit”, “the sign of great health”. The golden watchword for the attitude and orientation to which philosophy leads is “peace all around me and goodwill to all things closest to me”. It is an attitude that is further characterised by peace, a second innocence, forgetfulness, and immediacy. The “child” is “the good neighbour of all things closest”; the surroundings that it encounters are transparent, plastic, in the process

268  Peter K. Westergaard of becoming, and possess an “immediacy”, a richness of nuance, Farbenpracht, and a “depth”, all of which encourage new action and thought (“a new beginning”) and allow the child to set to work with the insouciance of a fly (KSB 2, 569) that has just been guided out of the fly-bottle. Back to the everyday use With Nietzsche’s account of the newborn who returns to all things closest in mind, it seems reasonable to make a comparison with Wittgenstein’s description of the condition and attitude of the philosopher once a philosophical problem has dissolved, “like a lump of sugar in water” (BT, 421/310e). Here, the state of mind is one that brings the philosopher to “peace” (PI §133), to that “particular peace of mind” (BT, 416/307e) that occurs, when the philosopher feels able to return to his practical concerns, to a condition in which he is no longer bewildered and disoriented and “is no longer tormented by questions” (PI §133). Through the practice of grammatical “suspicion”, philosophy is brought to “the subjects of our every-day thinking” (PI §106). The resolution of philosophical problems does not imply the cessation of thinking. For in the state of peace, one can think in a manner that is receptive to impressions of grammatical facts (BT, 422/311e). In short, a manner of thinking driven by a Wille zur Durchsichtigkeit – a will to “transparency” (BT, 421/310e). Back home in practical life after the dissolution of the “wild conjectures and explanations” (Z §447), one finds an ability “to go down deep” in our “most immediate and familiar surroundings” (MS 131, 182). The thinking we undertake in a state of peace is in contact with the material world; it is attentive to “all things closest” and seeks to uphold “what is present before all new discoveries and inventions” (BT, 419/309e). As for Nietzsche, the attitude and relationship to the world imply a state of becoming: “[I]n everyday life we never have the feeling that the phenomenon eludes us” (BT, 428/314e); here a will to transparency asserts itself in the form of a “quiet weighing of linguistic facts” (TS 220, 93). It is a peace that leads us to think more deeply about practical life and all that is close: “This peace is like refreshing sleep” (GT, 54). Wittgenstein does not advocate a dissolution of philosophy. Let me now expand on this by juxtaposing Nietzsche’s description of “he [who] loves to sit sadly still” and “to spin out patience, to lie in the sun” with Wittgenstein’s remark about the philosopher who no longer “exaggerates, screams, as it were, in his helplessness” (BT, 421/309e). Like Nietzsche, Wittgenstein applies an autobiographical perspective in his presentation of philosophy and the way to bring it to rest. This approach is evident when we consider his extended discussion of philosophy in the Pre-War Investigations (TS 220, 66–93). Here, Wittgenstein asks

A Remark on “the Particular Peace” in Philosophy  269 what the subject, task, methods, and goals of philosophy are. He reflects on the early mistakes and “wild conjectures” of his Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus. He asserts that in his early philosophical work and his remarks on language, he was seduced by the field of study as such and by his own use of language. In the endeavour to understand the essence, function, and structure of language, he was seduced in particular by the analogy between “proposition” and “picture” (TLP 4.01). And this seduction was amplified by his inclination to seek a “general form” (TLP 4.5). Wittgenstein uses the Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus as an autobiographical illustration of the wrong turnings that language can tempt us to take. In TS 220 he writes: “‘Every proposition states: This is how things stand.’ [TLP 4.5]. Here we have a form of the kind that can seduce us. (That seduced me.)” (TS 220, 87). Wittgenstein explores this interpretation of philosophical problems, as the upshot of our being seduced in our cognitive work by “the forms of our language” (TS 220, 77), in the Pre-War Investigations. He elaborates by saying that this seduction is a consequence in part of certain ways of asking questions and orienting oneself within the philosophical tradition – consider the quest for essence and the “preconceived idea of crystalline purity” (TS 220, 76) – and in part of certain “natural” cognitive inclinations, such as “the tendency to generalize” (Z §444), certain “deep disquietudes” (TS 220, 77), and “queer” impressions (TS 220, 69) that arise in conjunction with certain uses of language, forms of speculation and perceptions of reality. The forms of language lead us to confuse its forms of representation with the actual inherent form of the thing represented. And these forms, together with the confusion, generate new questions and speculations. As a result, we lose sight of the form of the objects and focus our gaze and our minds instead on the forms of the representation as such and the questions and answers that ensue. Wittgenstein famously compares this way of representing things to wearing “a pair of glasses on our nose through which we see whatever we look at. It never occurs to us to take them off” (TS 220, 73). The gaze and “wild conjectures” of the form of representation cause a kind of blindness and prevent us from recognising the diversity of language and hence of the world and its Farbenpracht. As he writes in The Big Typescript: “Indeed, when we hand over the reins to language and not to life, that’s when philosophical problems arise” (BT, 521/365e). But in overcoming this seduction or enchantment by means of philosophical questions about the adequacy of these forms of representation and whether or not language really uses words in such and such a way, the individual and his understanding are brought back to their “Heimat” (TS 220, 89). “What we do is to bring words back from their metaphysical to their everyday usage” (TS 220, 89). And the restoration of words in this way simultaneously implies the restoration of the individual to the horizon of everyday life.

270  Peter K. Westergaard In the Pre-War Investigations, Wittgenstein also lays out the fundamental method that philosophy ought to apply: “a perspicuous representation” (TS 220, 80). Philosophy amounts to a description of the uses of language in the form of a linguistic phenomenology (BT, 437/320e; 442/322e), meaning a grammatical study of how we use language, the purpose of which is in part to remind ourselves of the correct and diverse uses of language and in part to create an overview of these uses. As words are restored to their correct use, we become aware of how the forms of language are seducing us and the seduction ceases. “The work of the philosopher consists in assembling reminders for a particular purpose” (TS 220, 82). And once this “particular purpose” has been achieved, there is no further justification for philosophical thought. Philosophy is then dissolved. Such is the claim! Wittgenstein’s account of the steps towards a cessation of seduction and hence towards the dissolution of philosophical problems is depicted, as in Nietzsche, as a movement from agitation to peace, from disorientation to clarity, from a fettered state to one of redemption and emancipation. “The philosopher strives to find the word that delivers us” (TS 220, 83). The familiar metaphor he uses repeatedly in this context is that of “sickness – health” / “sickness – recovery”. The cessation of seduction is a cure for “philosophical disease” (PI §593). “The philosopher’s treatment of a question is like the treatment of an illness” (PI §255). And with Nietzsche’s prefaces in mind, it is tempting to argue that Wittgenstein’s talk of exposing “the ground of language” (TS 220, 90) includes a return “to the rough ground!” (TS 220, 76), i.e. a return to everyday language and its “everyday usage” (TS 220, 89) – which amounts in turn to a return to the diversity, nuance and Farbenpracht of practical everyday life. The progress that Wittgenstein describes from Unruhe (disquiet) to Ruhe (peace) is also apparent in the concluding remarks about philosophy of the Pre-War Investigations. Here he writes: The real discovery is the one that makes me capable of stopping doing philosophy when I want to. – The one that gives philosophy peace, so that it is no longer tormented by questions which brings itself in question. – Instead, we now demonstrate a method, by examples, and the series of examples can be broken off. – – Problems are solved (difficulties eliminated), not a single problem. Disquiet in philosophy might be said to arise from looking at philosophy wrongly, seeing it wrong […]. (We want to replace wild conjectures and explanations by quiet weighing of linguistic facts.) (TS 220, 93, cf. PI §133, Z §447)

A Remark on “the Particular Peace” in Philosophy  271 Given the perspective laid out above, what interests me in these remarks is not so much the suggestion that the disquiet of philosophy arises primarily from a misunderstanding of “the true nature of the philosophical enterprise”, in other words of its proper means and task, a misunderstanding that effectively puts philosophy in conflict with itself, leaving it “constantly torment[ing] itself by questioning its own legitimacy”.6 Instead, the aspect I wish to stress is that philosophy ceases and is brought to peace when philosophical problems are “solved” by means of a perspicuous representation. In brief, our philosophical problems, our restless and “wild conjectures and explanations” are resolved by means of “linguistic phenomenology”, by grammatical analysis, by a “quiet weighing of linguistic facts”, aimed at the ways language is used within the problems. And if we follow the train of thought that Nietzsche traces in his prefaces, the consequence is a return, a coming back to the tranquility of the home. What is thereby exposed is the home ground of language and with it the horizon and complexity of everyday life emerges with grammatical depth. But what this return and peace entails is not passivity or inertia so much as an active attitude towards everyday life that involves an “everyday thinking”, “a new beginning”, made possible by an ability to perceive and recognise the deeper grammar of everyday life. The “everyday thinking” that follows the resolution of philosophical problems is a quietly continuing weighing of linguistic facts that is now focused on the diverse language uses of everyday life, the practical horizon of which it seeks to maintain and deepen. Here the will to transparency is directed not at the solution of philosophical problems, but rather at domestic landscapes. With the resolution of philosophical problems, thinking does not cease, but is put to work instead in the ongoing pursuit of grammatical clarity within everyday life and the maintenance of its horizon. Henceforth, thinking is directed not at philosophical problems, but at the many aspects and forms of action of everyday life. What we begin to discern is “a complicated network of similarities overlapping and criss-crossing: sometimes overall similarities, sometimes similarities of detail” (TS 220, 51). The purpose of calm grammatical reflection is not some revisionistic aim but rather to grasp and maintain diversity, nuance, and the Farbenpracht of everyday life; in other words, its “depth”. Philosophy “leaves everything as it is” (TS 220, 81). As a Wille zur Durchsichtigkeit, philosophy stands in the service of everyday life. Out of the fly-bottle Having recovered from the philosophical diseases and achieved the peace and the “new beginning” of thinking that follows from the dissolution of philosophical thinking – “Philosophy is a tool which is

272  Peter K. Westergaard useful only against philosophies and against the philosopher in us” (TS 219, 11) – we occupy ourselves instead with “the subjects of our everyday thinking” (PI §106). After moving beyond the problems of philosophy, thinking focuses now on anything that belongs “in practical life” (BT, 427/314e). Henceforth, thinking is oriented towards things as “spatial and temporal phenomen[a] of language” and thus not as “some non-spatial, non-temporal phantasm” (PI §108), meaning things in the diversity of their everyday usage. In other words, whereas thinking was formerly preoccupied with “wild conjectures”, the philosopher’s new watchword is: “Peace all around me and goodwill to all things closest to me”. Or, to put it another way: “Philosophy simply puts everything before us, and neither explains nor deduces anything. – Since everything lies open to view there is nothing to explain. For what is hidden, for example, is of no interest to us.” And Wittgenstein adds: “One might also give the name ‘philosophy’ to what is possible before all new discoveries and inventions” (PI §126). – Philosophy transformed into “philosophy”, in other words, thinking in quotation marks, a “philosophy” that embraces the tasks and concerns of everyday life. What Wittgenstein envisages is not the cessation of thinking but rather a “philosophy” – a will to transparency – beyond the resolution of philosophical problems. A “philosophy” suitable for a returning prodigal son, for him who comes back to the familiarity of the homely neighbourhood, to himself from “remote regions” (CV 1998, 76) where he was exposed to enchantment, disorientation and “explanations”. Wittgenstein’s description of the state of mind and the attitude associated with this “peace” – viz. it “grows warmer around him, yellower, as it were; feeling and feeling for others acquire depth”, and it “seems to him as if his eyes are only now open to what is close at hand. He is astonished and sits silent” (HH, I, Preface 5) – revolves largely around the qualities of “presence” or “immediacy”, as was also the case with Nietzsche. Wittgenstein emphasises the aspects of the ordinary and the mundane in a state that is open and attentive to diversity, nuance and depth – to the rough ground. It is a state that allows us to see the aspects of things that are most important to us yet otherwise “hidden because of their simplicity and familiarity”. That which is close and which we usually fail to notice “because it is always before one’s eye”. Now one glimpses the “most striking and most powerful”, which one otherwise would not notice (PI §129). Things for which one now has understanding. And to gain understanding for that which is close means to gain insight into its depth. “The sentence, when I understand it, acquires depth for me” (MS 114, 34v). To put it another way, and with Nietzsche’s somewhat different but concise formulation “Peace all around me and goodwill to all things closest to me” in mind:

A Remark on “the Particular Peace” in Philosophy  273 To plumb the depths, you do not need to travel far; you can do it in your own back garden. //; Indeed, [to do so] you don’t even need to leave your immediate and familiar surroundings. (MS 131, 182) The physical world, die Welt, one’s surroundings are now anything but “quite simple”, anything but “broad and flat”, trivial, and without “depth” (Z §456). Instead, reality, die Wirklichkeit now manifests what Nietzsche characterised as “an enchanting wealth of types, the abundance of a lavish play and change of forms” (TI, Morality as Anti-Nature, 6). This “particular peace of mind” encompasses “a change in the way things are perceived” (CV 1998, 70). This state of peace brings with it a clarity of vision, a sober-mindedness and genuine engagement, which come as a relief after “one has wandered along tortuous or zigzagging paths”, after striding “straight through the thicket of questions out into the open” (CV 1998, 91). Wittgenstein’s accounts of the end of disquiet differ and assume various forms that echo the characteristics of the condition that Nietzsche describes in his prefaces. Peace presupposes emancipation from the fetters of “ultraphysical” meanings (BT, 429/315e), constituting a release to a state of everyday life free from the “traps” of language and the “network of well kept wrong turnings” (CV 1998, 25). A celebrated analogy for this situation is the fly, not the “wriggling fly” to which we might ascribe sensations (PI §284), but the restless fly that is released into the open to its familiar surroundings from the captivity, seduction, and enchantment of the flybottle. With Nietzsche in mind, the decisive point of the fable is not that it illustrates how we “unsuspectingly” (PI §308) stray into the fly-bottle or how philosophical problems and language in general keep animal symbolicum captivated.7 And perhaps what Wittgenstein was aiming at here was something more than the merely therapeutic possibilities available for the fly. For he asks: “What is your aim in philosophy?” To which he replies: “To shew the fly the way out of the fly-bottle” (PI §309). In other words, to show the way out in order to bring the fly out into the open, into the environment from which it came. The fly only finds peace once it has been guided out of the hole in the bottom of the bottle and has returned to its familiar surroundings. “(The solipsist flutters and flutters in the flyglass, strikes against the walls, flutters further. How can he be brought to rest?)” (MS 149, 34r). Wittgenstein answers: “(The particular peace of mind that occurs when we can place other similar cases next to one we thought was unique, occurs again and again in our investigations when we show that a word doesn’t have just one meaning (or just two), but is used with five or six different meanings.)” (BT, 416/307e). Having escaped from the bottle via the indicated route and found peace, the former captive takes “a wider

274  Peter K. Westergaard look round” (RFM, 127) with a gaze attuned to diversity and difference. The fly has come home, newborn, healed: “A philosopher is a man who has to cure many diseases of the understanding in himself, before he can arrive at the notions of common sense” (CV 1998, 50). The healing involves the overcoming of enchantment – a coming to reason. And in this situation, the philosopher perceives things and his surroundings “in daylight”, meaning as they are and within the nexus to which they belong: “Compare the solution of philosophical problems with the fairy tale gift that seems magical in the enchanted castle and if it is looked at in daylight is nothing but an ordinary bit of iron (or something of the sort)” (CV 1998, 13). But what about the “second innocence” that constitutes one aspect of the homecomer’s state of peace? Here it is worth recalling one of Wittgenstein’s well-known remarks from The Big Typescript. He writes: “The problems are solved in the literal sense of the word – dissolved like a lump of sugar in water” (BT, 421/310e). The philosophical problems – perturbations, paradoxes, contradictions, our mental knots and linguistic confusions – are dissolved by grammatical descriptions and perspicuous representations, “like a substance / a lump of sugar / in water” (MS 110, 99). Once the lump has dissolved, the philosopher seems to find himself back where he was before becoming aware of the lump. The philosophical problem has dissolved in water; in other words by means of the philosopher’s application of linguistic phenomenology. But we should not forget that once the lump has dissolved, the composition of the water is no longer the same. It has lost its natural state, its “first innocence”. The sugar crystals are now dispersed in the water, which looks as it did before, but is different nonetheless. Since the water now holds the dissolved sugar, the philosopher can no longer return to the first innocence that prevailed before the discovery of the lump. At first glance, the water looks the same, but in reality it has a new composition and taste. In short, the water, i.e. the philosopher, “returns newborn”, with a “more dangerous second innocence”, and “a hundred times more subtle” than he was before (GS, Preface 4). And what about the “active forgetting” and the “spontaneity” or “immediacy” that was mentioned as an aspect of peace? Wittgenstein’s injunction is: “don’t think, but look!” (PI §66). In other words, leave your expectations and the errors and philosophical prejudices handed down from the past lying where you find them. See for yourself! Wittgenstein asserts further that our conceptual work on philosophical problems is the occasion to present grammatical Betrachtungen (PI §90) and Bemerkungen (PI §574) and “lists of rules” (BT, 426/313e) that can be set up like “signposts” to show us a path through the labyrinth of language (PI §203). “Language sets everyone the same traps; it is an immense network of well kept wrong turnings”. He continues: “What I have to do then is to erect

A Remark on “the Particular Peace” in Philosophy  275 signposts at all the junctions where there are wrong turnings so to help people past the danger points” (CV 1998, 25). These grammatical road signs are erected to indicate the direction and as reminders of the dangerous mistakes and forms of thought that have tempted people in the past to go astray. Finding one’s orientation and the right direction within the labyrinth of language would thus seem to require a clear memory or heightened awareness for these signposts and their meanings. But usually we fail to stop at the signs or to consider their instructions. We do not always recall why a sign is placed exactly where it is. That’s not how we act. Following a signpost in language presupposes an active forgetfulness. How does it accommodate this kind of “active forgetting”? Because we don’t give the road signs any thought at all! We do not follow them by means of analysis or interpretation (PI §201). “We are trained to do so; we react in a particular way” (PI §206). We act spontaneously. “A rule stands there like a signpost” (PI §85). “When I obey a rule, I do not choose. I obey the rule blindly” (PI §219).8 I act immediately and am present in the traffic of everyday life – through the city’s “maze of little streets and squares, of old and new houses, and of houses with additions from various periods” (PI §18). – Let me conclude. Drury never stopped thinking. Some two decades after Wittgenstein’s injunction, Drury published the collection of essays, The Danger of Words (1973), which is perhaps “in its tone and concerns, the most truly Wittgensteinian work”.9 Drury points out that the danger in using or understanding words and statements in a simplified sense, is that we reduce the scope and ignore the versatility, plasticity, and Farbenpracht not just of those words and statements, but also of people, things, and everyday life. Drury wants to highlight and maintain the depth in our “most immediate and familiar surroundings” – “a goodwill to all things closest”. Several years before the publication of The Danger of Words, Drury concluded a lecture on the method of philosophy with the following: “Perhaps some of you feel that to put an end to this way of metaphysical speculation and to limit human speech to the truths of everyday life […] is to empty life of all serious meaning and significance. I can only say that I have not found this to be the case. On the contrary what is valuable in life shines all the clearer when freed from the metaphysical entanglements we put upon it.”10

Notes 1 Clack 1999, 23. 2 Drury 1984, 170. 3 Let me just add that, in the following, I presuppose that Wittgenstein’s discussions of philosophy from the early 30s to the mid-40s – in TS 213, 405–435;

276  Peter K. Westergaard TS 220, 66–93; PI §§89–133 – are determined by a basic aim, namely the objective which in the following is described as “a desire to guide the reader [philosopher] back to himself and his world”, a “return” which comprise “a renewed ability ‘to go down deep’ into our ‘most immediate and familiar surroundings’”. For discussions of Wittgenstein’s philosophical method see Kenny 1984, 38–60, Baker and Hacker 1988, 259–293, Hilmy 1989, and Westergaard 2000, 203–272. 4 Lampert 2017, 2. See also e.g., Westergaard 2018 and Fortier 2020. 5 Here I follow Lawrence J. Hatab (2008, 69–75). 6 See Baker and Hacker 1988, 247. 7 See Hallett 1977, 382–383 and Hacker 1990, 263–264. 8 For an analysis and discussion of the concept of ‘following a rule’ see Malcolm 1986, 154–181. 9 Monk 1990, 264. 10 Drury 2019, 171–177.

References Baker, Gordon P. and Hacker, Peter. (1988). Essays on the Philosophical Investigations. Wittgenstein. Meaning and Understanding, Vol. 1. Oxford: Basil Blackwell. Backer, Gordon P. and Hacker, Peter M.S. (1988). An Analytical Commentary on Wittgenstein’s Philosophical Investigations, Vol. 1. Oxford: Basil Blackwell. Clack, Brian R. (1999). An Introduction to Wittgenstein’s Philosophy of Religion. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Drury, Maurice O’C. (1984). “Conversations with Wittgenstein”. In Recollections of Wittgenstein. Ed. Rush Rhees, 97–171. Oxford: Oxford University Press. ———. (2019). “The Method of Philosophy”. In The Selected Writings of Maurice O’Connor Drury. On Wittgenstein, Philosophy, Religion and Psychiatry. Ed. John Hayes, 171–177. London: Bloomsbury. Fortier, Jeremy. (2020). The Challenge of Nietzsche. How to Approach His Thought. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press. Hacker, Peter M.S. (1990). Wittgenstein. Meaning and Mind. An Analytical Commentary on the Philosophical Investigations, Vol. 3. Oxford: Basil Blackwell. Hallett, Garth. (1977). A Companion to Wittgenstein’s “Philosophical Investigations”. Ithaca: Cornell University Press. Hatab, Lawrence J. (2008). Nietzsche’s On the Genealogy of Morality. An Introduction. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Hilmy, S. Stephen. (1989). The Later Wittgenstein. The Emergence of a New Philosophical Method. Oxford: Basil Blackwell. Kenny, Anthony. (1984). “Wittgenstein on the Nature of Philosophy”. In The Legacy of Wittgenstein. Anthony Kenny, 38–60. Oxford: Basil Blackwell. Lampert, Laurence. (2017). What a Philosopher Is. Becoming Nietzsche. Chicago: The University of Chicago Press. Malcolm, Norman. (1986). Wittgenstein. Nothing is Hidden. Oxford: Basil Blackwell.

A Remark on “the Particular Peace” in Philosophy  277 Monk, Ray. (1990). Ludwig Wittgenstein. The Duty of Genius. London: Jonathan Cape. Westergaard, Peter K. (2000). Ludwig Wittgenstein. Hele billedligheden i vor udtryksmåde [Ludwig Wittgenstein. All our pictorial modes of expression]. Aarhus: Slagmark. ———. (2018). Nietzsche. “… hvis man altid går til grunden …” En afslutning [Nietzsche. “… if one always faces ruin …” A conclusion]. Aalborg: Aalborg Universitetsforlag.

Index

Pages followed by “n” refer to notes. aesthetic/-s 20, 25, 51, 53–54, 106, 127, 144n50, 180, 187, 190–191, 194 analytic 8, 10, 12, 47–49, 62, 70, 184n1 Andreas-Salomé, Lou 59–60 The Antichrist 6, 17, 38n30, 39n33, 39n34, 40n56, 78, 89, 129, 141, 232n38, 232n41; A 78, 232n40, 232n41, 233n42, 233n46, 234n52 architecture 61, 79, 90 Aristotle/Aristotelian 184n1, 225–226, 230n20, 234n57 ascetic 83–84 Augustine 212, 216, 224, 228n11, 233n46 Beethoven, Ludwig van 4, 61, 77, 98–99, 117n15 Bergson, Henri 73n70, 244 Beyond Good and Evil 6, 11, 36n2, 111, 124, 129–132, 141n1, 210, 228n6; BGE 3, 5, 8, 86, 118n35, 118n36, 118n37, 118n38, 118n39, 121n81, 122n85, 122n86, 122n87, 124, 129–137, 141n3, 143n37, 143n38, 143n39, 143n40, 143n44, 144n51, 144n53, 148–150, 162–163, 165n4, 170, 177, 188, 190, 192, 197, 199, 203n18, 204n22, 210–212, 214–216, 218, 221, 224, 227n1, 228n5, 228n10, 229n15, 230n21, 230n26, 231n29, 231n31, 231n33, 233n46 The Big Typescript 6, 10, 78–85, 87–90, 92n12, 92n14, 92n15, 110–111, 125, 203n18, 269,

274; BT 79–85, 87, 90, 92n12, 92n15, 238, 243, 258, 268–270, 272–274 The Blue and Brown Books: BBB 68, 114, 120, 192–193, 196, 202, 209, 212–213, 216–217, 220–222, 227n3, 228n11, 229n12, 229n16, 230n26, 230n27, 234n51, 240, 248; The Blue Book 114, 187–188, 192, 205n26, 212, 219, 240–241, 248; The Brown Book 13n17, 120n69, 125, 188, 227, 230n27 Birth of Tragedy 4, 13n12, 102, 131, 172, 258, 260; BoT 4, 118n34, 131, 172 Boltzmann, Ludwig 5, 128, 142n21 Carnap, Rudolf 228n5 The Case of Wagner 6, 17, 39n33, 39n34, 78, 129, 263 Cavell, Stanley 12, 195, 238–254, 254n4, 254n5, 255n17 certainty 11, 57, 112, 144n57, 174, 194–195, 206n30, 211, 245 Christianity 17–18, 22, 39n34, 48, 57, 78, 89, 125, 129, 138, 223–224, 232n35, 232n41, 233n43, 233n49, 234n52, 234n54, 262 Christian/-s 11, 63, 65–66, 107–108, 124, 131–132, 141n3, 141n8, 143n39, 165, 197, 210, 222, 225, 227, 232n36, 232n37, 232n40, 233n42, 233n44, 233n45, 266 cogito 111–112, 121n78

Index  279 continental 8, 48, 70 Copernicus/Copernican 105, 116, 119n52, 216 Darwin, Charles/Darwinian/Darwinism 66, 88, 216 Daybreak 258, 260; D 57, 171, 231n28, 261 Deleuze, Gilles 234n54, 254n1 Descartes/Cartesian 111–112, 216, 218, 228n8, 229n15, 230n27, 231n29 Dewey, John 205n27 Dostoevsky, Fyodor 222, 232n36 Drury, Maurice 119n60, 232n36, 257–258, 260, 275 Ecce Homo 238; EH 118n27, 118n31, 150, 178, 238–239, 243 Einstein, Albert 105, 116, 119n52, 142n21, 142n26 Emerson, R.W./Emersonian 12, 78, 89, 102, 239–242, 244–245, 247, 253 empiricism/empiricist/-s 25, 225; Logical Empiricism 49, 69 Engelmann, Paul 5, 79, 88, 90 Epicurean 65 Ernst, Paul 9–10, 78–79, 84, 86–90, 92n17, 92n19, 92n27, 92n30, 203n18 eternal recurrence 7, 67–70, 109, 120n69, 209, 227n3 family resemblance/-s 143, 192, 212 Fichte, J.G. 4, 13n9 fly-bottle 126, 174, 268, 271, 273 form of life 12, 188, 194–195, 197–200, 203n15, 206n30, 238, 246, 249 Förster-Nietzsche, Elisabeth 47, 92n26 Foucault, Michel 240 free spirit/-s 66, 102, 131, 175, 239, 261–264 Frege, Gottlob/Fregean 12, 14, 30, 32, 49, 77–78, 87, 90n2, 213, 240 Freud, Sigmund 121n79, 122n85, 128, 141n5, 142n18, 223, 228n5 future philosopher/-s/philosophy 124, 133, 147–151, 162, 209 The Gay Science 102, 118n31, 190, 194, 204n22, 258, 260, 266; GS 1, 3, 118n30, 118n32, 118n33, 138,

189–190, 194–199, 202, 203n18, 204n22, 205n24, 205n25, 211, 215–216, 218, 221, 231n33, 233n46, 233n47, 259–266, 274 genealogical/-ly/genealogy/genealogies 11, 56–57, 66, 93n39, 139, 147, 157, 162–164, 189, 192, 247, 249–250, 252 The Genealogy of Morals/Morality 6, 36n2, 113, 132, 143n39, 147, 150, 161–162, 166n10, 183–189, 259, 266; GM 86, 121n83, 122n84, 124, 129, 133, 141n3, 141n8, 144n54, 148, 150–151, 166, 183, 189, 192, 197–198, 203n18, 204n22, 211, 266–267 God/god/-s 21–22, 38n20, 39n34, 55, 115, 211, 215, 219, 223, 233n42, 238, 246, 252, 266 Goethe 4–5, 77, 89, 98–99, 108–109, 117n15, 117n16 grammar/-s 12, 49, 79–80, 82, 106– 107, 114–115, 119n56, 149, 155, 181, 190, 202n1, 203n18, 210–211, 213–218, 221, 224, 226, 229n13, 229n19, 230n26, 233n42, 239, 247–249, 252–254, 258–259, 271 Hänsel, Ludwig 5, 13n12, 96, 116n4 Hegel, G.W.F. 4, 13n9, 170–171, 175, 184n4 Heidegger, Martin 2, 143n39 Heraclitus 184n1 herd 10, 85–86, 89, 131, 143n35, 188, 194, 196–198, 201, 203, 203n18, 205n25 Hertz, Heinrich 5, 142 history 5, 10, 56, 58, 62, 64–65, 86–88, 101, 128, 136, 147, 151, 156, 162–164, 189–190, 196–197, 200, 216, 227n2, 244, 246–247, 249, 253, 260, 263; of philosophy 1, 3, 169, 184n1, 214, 224–226, 234n56, 234n57 Human, All Too Human 26, 33, 59, 129, 190, 258, 260; HH 7, 189– 191, 194, 202, 205n25, 239, 243, 260–265, 272 Hume, David 216 idealism 27, 229n16; transcendental 25

280 Index James, William 205n27 Kant, Immanuel/Kantian 4, 13, 47, 57–58, 63, 66, 88, 96, 104–105, 110–113, 116, 119n52, 122n89, 128, 130–131, 134–135, 142n24, 142n26, 144n52, 163, 172, 217, 225–226, 231n33 Keynes, J.M. 29, 42n80 Kierkegaard, Søren/Kierkegaardian 22, 222–223, 232n36 Kraus, Karl 182 language-game/-s 11, 80, 82–83, 109, 139, 143n42, 156–160, 193, 195–196, 198–199, 201–202 Lichtenberg, G.C. 4, 9–10, 95–96, 108–116, 120n71, 120n72, 120n73, 120n74, 121n76, 121n78, 121n80, 121n83, 122n85, 122n89, 203n18, 228n5 logic/logical/logically 2–4, 19–20, 31–33, 35, 37n12, 41n74, 44n104, 67, 69, 72, 77, 87–88, 91n3, 103, 106–107, 124, 130, 132, 134–137, 144n51, 151–152, 154, 159, 161, 180, 213, 221, 252–253, 255n17 Mauthner, Fritz 91n10, 115–116, 203n18, 228n5 metaphor/-s/metaphorical/-ly/ metaphoricity 108–109, 126, 136, 174, 181–182, 191, 193, 202n4, 203n7, 203n18, 261, 270 Moore, G.E. 6, 13n13, 33, 71n8, 142n13, 227n3, 229n13, 229n16, 230n27 morality 4, 10, 57, 64–67, 89, 107–108, 124–125, 128, 130–133, 137–140, 142n32, 143n39, 147, 162–164, 197, 210, 222–225, 227, 231n28, 233n44, 233n49, 234n52, 261; slave 67, 89, 162 movement/-s of thought 7, 95, 99–100, 106–107, 109, 116, 118n29, 119n54, 126–129, 139–140, 142n14, 142n19, 142n24, 147, 152 music/musical/musicians 4–5, 98–99, 109, 173, 176, 179, 233n47, 248, 253

naturalism/naturalistic/naturalist/-s 8, 50, 53, 59, 66, 68, 71, 115, 216, 218, 231n32 Nazis/-m 47–49, 62, 66, 70, 125 Neurath, Otto 62 nihilism/nihilist 98, 199, 238, 262–263 nonsense 8, 30, 32–33, 41n70, 57, 124, 133–135, 137, 139–140, 200, 220 On Certainty 188, 192, 194–195, 203n7, 206n30, 229n16; OC 119n54, 193–195, 199, 202, 203n15, 222, 230n27 ordinary language 10–12, 58, 81, 181, 202, 229n18, 234n51, 250 overhuman 51–53, 60; see also Superman; Übermensch/übermenschliche Peirce, C.S. 205n27 perspectivism 3, 150, 176, 184, 198, 204n21, 205n25 pessimism 53, 62, 262 phenomenology 270–271, 274 Philosophical Investigations 2, 79, 81, 88, 92n15, 103–105, 109–110, 119n49, 125–126, 139–140, 158, 160, 165n5, 166n8, 179, 182–183, 187–188, 212, 224, 230n27, 241, 251, 255n19, 257, 259; PI 11, 82–84, 91n11, 92n13, 92n14, 92n15, 126, 129, 134, 140, 141n8, 141n12, 142n14, 143n36, 144n55, 150, 152–153, 155–159, 161–162, 165n4, 166n9, 174, 178, 180, 192–193, 195, 197, 202, 202n1, 211–214, 216–217, 222, 228n11, 229n12, 229n13, 230n22, 232n40, 233n46, 238, 240–241, 244, 251, 255n16, 255n19, 257–259, 261, 263, 268, 270, 272–275, 275n3 Pinsent, D.H. 42n82 Plato/Platonist 13n3, 31, 149, 169– 171, 175, 212, 216, 225, 262 poet/poetry/poetic 4, 6–8, 10–11, 78, 87, 95, 99–105, 107, 109, 115, 126–127, 131, 136, 139, 143n34, 147, 152, 154, 158, 161, 163–164, 165n5, 169–170, 172–174, 176–178, 181–182, 184

Index  281 pragmatism/pragmatist 11, 52, 188, 199–201, 205n27, 206n28, 206n35 private language 166n9, 214, 229n15 Ramsey, F.P. 37n11, 135, 143n45 realism/realist 25, 27, 191, 205n25, 215–216, 219–221, 224, 227, 229n16, 230n27 Redpath, Theodor 104, 119n47 ressentiment 234n52 revaluation 6, 11, 91n7, 116n2, 124–125, 127, 141n5, 147–148, 152, 162, 165n5, 170, 189, 198; see also transvaluation; Umwerthung/Umwertung Rhees, Rush 7, 103, 105, 107–109, 119n60, 119n61, 223 Romanticism 4 rule-following 214 Russell, Bertrand 12, 18, 26–27, 29–34, 37n12, 40n53, 41n61, 41n77, 42n80, 42n82, 42n84, 42n85, 42n86, 43n90, 43n96, 43n98, 44n107, 47–48, 68, 70, 73n70, 77–78, 87, 90n2, 104, 213, 223 Schelling, F.W.J. 4, 13n9 Schlick, Friedrich Albert Moritz 5, 10, 13n16, 13n17, 48–70, 71n13, 71n14, 71n20, 71n26, 71n33, 71n35, 72n38, 72n42, 72n45, 72n47, 72n59, 72n60, 72n61, 72n64, 73n68 Schopenhauer/Schopenhauerian/ Schopenhauerianism 4–5, 13n3, 25–26, 40n55, 48, 50, 53, 59–60, 64–66, 71n13, 72n45, 72n47, 133, 137–138, 140, 143n45, 144n47, 172, 232n36, 233n49, 262 Schumann, Robert Alexander 4–5 skepticism/scepticism 10, 27–28, 31, 33–35, 40n55, 111, 229n16, 238, 244–245, 263 solipsism 6, 8–10, 17–22, 24–29, 35, 37n12, 40n54, 41n61, 42n82, 42n84, 144n51, 213, 230n23 Soul, soul 7–8, 18, 24, 33, 85, 89, 144n53, 149, 172–173, 229n15, 231n29, 231n33, 238, 262 Spengler, Oswald Arnold Gottfried 5–6, 59, 61–62, 70, 72n55, 96–99, 101, 116, 116n4, 117n5, 117n15, 125

Spinoza, Baruch 13n3, 66, 130, 137, 170–171, 175 Sraffa, Piero 128 Stoic/-s/Stoicism 26, 65, 165n4 Strauss, David 171, 233n43 style/-s 1, 8, 10–11, 50, 70, 91n11, 95, 110, 115–116, 118n28, 127, 139, 142n14, 165n6, 169–185 Superman 93n39; see also overhuman; Übermensch/übermenschliche synthetic a priori 128 Thus Spoke Zarathustra 6–7, 13n16, 48, 50, 53, 71n8, 101, 103–105, 108–110, 118n27, 118n46, 119n63, 120n65, 129, 131, 151, 180, 227n3, 232n38, 234n50, 259, 265; TSZ 7, 13n16, 71n17, 118n43, 118n45, 118n46, 119n63, 120n64, 120n65, 120n66, 120n67, 120n68, 131, 240, 250, 265 Tolstoy, Leo/Tolstoyan 78, 89, 222–223, 225, 232n37, 232n38, 233n43, 233n49, 234n51 Tractatus 2, 4, 6, 8–9, 11–12, 18–34, 36, 37n9, 37n11, 37n12, 38n20, 38n25, 39n44, 40n54, 40n55, 41n74, 43n102, 44n103, 44n104, 44n114, 63, 77–78, 83, 87–88, 90n2, 91n3, 92n29, 103–104, 106, 110, 124, 127–130, 133–137, 139–140, 142n19, 143n39, 143n42, 165n4, 184n5, 227n2, 269; TLP 8, 37n9, 37n11, 38n18, 38n21, 38n23, 38n28, 38n30, 39n44, 39n45, 39n46, 39n47, 39n49, 41n71, 41n72, 41n73, 43n98, 43n102, 44n104, 44n108, 44n109, 44n116, 44n117, 63, 77, 79, 87–88, 91, 133, 135–138, 143n41, 144n51, 144n53, 269 transcendental 19–22, 25, 27, 38n19, 135, 137, 144n47 transvaluation 48, 51, 58–61, 71n24, 95–100, 103, 105, 107, 116, 116n2, 117n14, 119n52, 125–127, 131, 137, 140; see also revaluation; Umwerthung/Umwertung Twilight of the Idols 6, 17, 39n33, 39n34, 40n56, 78, 84, 89, 91n7,

282 Index 129, 141, 171, 189, 251–252, 255n20; TI 84–85, 89, 91n7, 122n91, 151, 170–171, 181, 188–189, 191, 203n18, 211, 215, 218, 223, 227n1, 228n7, 251–252, 266, 273 Übermensch/übermenschliche 51, 73n68; see also overhuman; Superman Umwerthung/Umwertung 7, 10, 48, 99, 116n2, 117n8, 117n9, 118n21, 124–127, 129–130, 132, 139–140, 141n2; see also revaluation; transvaluation Untimely Meditations 263; UM 171 value/-s 6–7, 10–12, 35, 38n20, 48, 51, 53–54, 56–61, 63–67, 69, 72n40, 72n59, 88, 91n7, 92n30, 95–100, 103, 105, 107, 116, 117n14, 124–127, 130–141,

144n46, 147–148, 150–152, 160, 162–163, 165n1, 182, 187–194, 196–201, 204, 206n35, 221–225, 227, 231–234, 261–264 Vienna Circle 6, 8–10, 12, 13n16, 13n20, 49, 59–61, 72n55, 73n70, 143n33, 230n22 Wagner, Wilhelm Richard 13n3, 262 Waismann, Friedrich 5, 10, 48–50, 59, 63–70, 71n18, 72n45, 72n64, 73n68, 143n33, 228n5, 228n9 Weininger, Otto 5, 122n85 The Will to Power 6, 78; WP 143n38, 238 will to power 22, 50, 54–56, 67, 70, 102, 130, 132–133, 137, 143n38, 230n25 Wittgenstein, Hermine 5–6, 26, 33, 37n9, 117n5, 129