Ray Monk, Ludwig Wittgenstein: The Duty of Genius (1990)
[IN A NUTSHELL]
The art of philosophical deconstruction of a solitary thinker whose world-reengineering elitism made him isolated and shivering in loneliness.
What readers expect from a biography will differ from what they expect from a philosophical treatise. Examining the most crucial moments in a philosopher’s life is as enlightening (if not more so) as delving into their own works. What an individual puts out into the world is the most faithful expression of their life, whatever form it may take. A philosophical system, of course, but also works of art, literary compositions, political decisions, and even the attitude of a waiter serving a glass of water to a guest, or the subtle gestures made during a conversation—all of these are acts of self-expression. Therefore, the best way to understand someone’s body of work is to become a thoughtful witness to their life.
Ray Monk made an effort to illuminate both the public and private lives of Ludwig Wittgenstein, citing a significant amount of personal correspondence. Through his equally intriguing life, readers could gain a clearer understanding of his philosophy. However, more serious philosophical readers may feel disappointed that the author devoted too little space to explaining Wittgenstein’s philosophy itself.
In this book, the relatively sparse discussion of philosophical reasoning itself compared to other philosophers’ biographies may stem from the fundamental difference in philosophical attitude between Wittgenstein and other philosophers. Let’s compare Hegel and Wittgenstein. Hegel established a complex and grandiose metaphysical system, upon which he based extensive systematic writings throughout his life on many key areas such as mind, history, logic, politics, law, and religion.
Wittgenstein’s philosophy is more like a sharp dagger piercing through the ambitions of constructing grand philosophical systems.
On the other hand, Wittgenstein’s philosophy is more like a sharp dagger piercing through the ambitions of constructing grand philosophical systems. He believed that it was sufficient to undermine the foundation of philosophical reasoning, namely language. He asserted that the grammar of thought should be poetic rather than systematic or logical, which succinctly summarizes his attitude toward philosophy.
Wittgenstein, instead of constructing another system to dismantle metaphysical frameworks, scrutinizes the fundamental operations of philosophy, namely language and logic. He believed that the “primary condition” for philosophy is “doubt about grammar,”, and if he were to draft his philosophical manifesto, the opening sentence might have been “All philosophy can do is a critique of idols.”1 These idols represent all kinds of grand doctrinal systems attempting to interpret the world and claiming to be successful—be it religious, philosophical, or political. Therefore, perhaps a lengthy discourse might not be necessary to explain his philosophy. Wittgenstein himself did not leave behind a comprehensive philosophical system, nor did he desire one. Furthermore, due to his perfectionist nature, he was unable to publish a single book properly.
Wittgenstein was not interested in addressing the problems that philosophy was supposed (and believed) to solve. Instead, he questioned the validity of philosophizing itself and sought to reveal its inherent limits. Reasoning can only occur through the medium of language, which necessarily consists of symbolic and abstract symbols, and language is inevitably a product of a specific culture. While we reason with the symbolic system of language bestowed upon us by society, we unwittingly accept the worldviews and assumptions deeply embedded within that language. For example, in traditional societies, the prevalent assumption is that there are only two sexes or genders, male and female. There are no words to express various other gender forms (in fact, the concept of gender itself is a modern invention and importation). This demonstrates that the assumptions inherited from traditional societies, namely that biological sex and social gender roles are identical, are already ingrained in the language we use. And language users comprehend the world through these assumptions.
When Wittgenstein said, “The limits of my language are the limits of my world,” he meant precisely this.
However, such assumptions are not a necessary way of perceiving the world but rather arbitrary ones based on the uniqueness of culture and language. Using language without recognizing its historicity and relativity is to uncritically accept the assumptions inherent within it. We do not have our current worldview because of its accuracy but rather because we have inherited it. When Wittgenstein said, “The limits of my language are the limits of my world,” he meant precisely this. This is a very accurate observation and should no longer be a new fact that feels revolutionary now.
“But I did not acquire my picture of the world by convincing myself that it was right. Nor do I acquire it by being convinced that it was correct. Not at all. It is the background we have inherited, and on this background, I distinguish between truth and falsehood.”
Consider people sharing the same language and culture and engaging in conversation using words like justice or love. From a hermeneutic perspective, the meanings each person ‘actually’ intends when using those words must not be equivalent. Simply put, the process through which the meaning of a given word is formed as a specific meaning—emotion, feeling, or image, for instance—for an individual is entirely unique, so even within the same cultural context, the specific meanings of words used by individuals vary. If we were to judge rigorously, communication of the kind where meanings are a hundred percent definitively expressed and interpreted is theoretically impossible.
“We cannot speak about what a word means. … How do I know that when two people say they believe in God, they mean the same thing?”
The traditional philosophy that relies on language can say nothing at all. Such philosophy is nothing but a meaningless language game, and the arrows shot by so-called academic philosophers miss the target of truth entirely, flying off into absurd directions. Therefore, philosophy must now remain silent. Philosophy speaks about what cannot be spoken about, and what Wittgenstein meant to say is this very ‘not-being-able-to-be-spokenness.’ Wittgenstein ruptures this language game. He cleanses the “foundation of language,” which supports our world of meaning, in order to collapse that world, which is like a “house of cards made of language.” Perhaps this is the duty of the genius Wittgenstein.
It is clear that we cannot reach complete objective truth through a specific language, which is a product of culture. Nevertheless, we still make sense of our lives based on our inherited cultural background. Even though our perspectives may be confined by specific languages and methodologies, the meaning we give to our lives is never ‘non-truth.’ It is through this meaning-making that makes us human. This is the essence of being human, and therefore, we inevitably need a horizon of meaning. Wittgenstein also understood this point well and acknowledged the validity of religion in providing a horizon of meaning.
“I have my own picture of the world. Is it true or false? Above all, it is the foundation of all my inquiries and assertions. There is no reason why religious faith cannot provide this foundation, and there is no reason why religious belief should not become part of “the background against which we distinguish between true and false, the background we have inherited.”
Like iconoclasts, it was Wittgenstein’s duty to shatter all philosophical idols. However, after completing the demolition of philosophical dogmas, he generously left room for religious faith. Since life is lived not through rigorous philosophy but through passion, Wittgenstein himself longed for such faith. Of course, this faith does not mean intellectual agreement with doctrines but rather a specific attitude aroused by passion. He distinguished between wisdom (philosophy and rigor) and passion (faith and action), stating that “wisdom is ashy” while “life and religion are colored.” In other words, a passionate attitude (faith) redeems human existence.
“Faith is not about my rational intellect; it is about believing in what my heart and my soul demand. Because what needs to be saved is not my abstract mind but my soul, which is imbued with passion, so to speak, with flesh and blood.“
The subtitle of the book, “The Duty of Genius,” makes me somewhat uncomfortable. It reminds me of a friend armed with an elitist consciousness. Although we are now estranged, he is also the one who recommended this book to me. He bears many resemblances to Wittgenstein in various aspects, so I couldn’t help but wonder if he gave me this book as his own introduction to me. I even had the thought that he was imitating and mimicking Wittgenstein, adopting his tastes and attitudes as if they were his own. And certain aspects of both of them made me quite uncomfortable.
Wittgenstein’s philosophizing is undoubtedly valuable, but his arrogant attitude is almost unbearable.
Wittgenstein’s philosophizing is undoubtedly valuable, but his arrogant attitude is almost unbearable. He completely disdained tastes that did not meet his standards and openly expressed his discomfort with individuals who held such tastes. Social conventions and etiquette were lightly dismissed, like ignoring STOP signs on the road, and his emotions were expressed unfiltered to those around him. Perhaps because his greatest ethical challenge in life was uncompromising honesty, he seemed quite content with this “honest” attitude of his, which was sufficient to isolate himself.
He showed his first-class instinct for human re-engineering without hesitation towards those who seemed to be ill-cultivated among his acquaintances, and I found these very traits in the friend who recommended this book to me. Elitism, the mission of re-engineering humans and the world, and the discomfort and pettiness expressed when one’s own will is not fulfilled, are, of course, uncomfortable aspects that are found in a milder form (this is very fortunate) in me as well.
“My day passes with logics, whistling, walking, and getting depressed.”
Due to his incredibly meticulous thinking and even more meticulous sense of elitism, Wittgenstein was lonelier than anyone else and sometimes wanted comfort from a same-sex lover. However, he tortured himself by thoroughly hating his vulnerability and solitude. He firmly believed that it was his “perpetual alienation”-the fact that he did not belong to any specific relationship or community-that made him a philosopher. He wrote, “My day passes with logic, whistling, walking, and getting depressed.” His loneliness was self-inflicted, and the gravity of his loneliness is heavy enough to evoke the reader’s sympathy. If we closely and kindly witness to life of a human being, it would be hard not to feel sympathy for him or her.
Wittgenstein was undoubtedly a genius, and he was faithful to the duty given to the genius. He prayed, “May I become more intelligent and may everything become clear to me in the end, or else may I not need to live longer (146).” Is there an item on the sacred duty list of geniuses, such as “Must be arrogant!” in addition to examining the presuppositions of our world and presenting new perspectives? I often sense a sign of a dictator in geniuses who show almost missionary zeal to reengineer the world. A sentence written by Michel Foucault in the “Preface” of Gilles Deleuze and Felix Guattari’s Anti-Oedipus: Capitalism and Schizophrenia suggests a certain relationship between a dictator and a genius who is trying to fulfill his or her sacred duty.
“How does one keep from being fascist, even (especially) when one believes oneself to be a revolutionary militant? How do we rid our speech and our acts, our heart and our pleasures, of fascism? How do we ferret out the fascism that is ingrained in our behavior?“
- All Wittgenstein citations are my private reverse translations from the Korean translation of the original English work. ↩︎
Late-Seeing 