Where Is Meaning?

Indeed, to deny that Wittgenstein’s later work improves on his early work is to commit two errors: 1) to overlook or submit to the intellectualist nature of Tractatus; 2) to fail to grasp the crucial insight that his later work provides. Tractatus claims that the better one masters the syntax of a language, the broader his experience and understanding of the world. This is a misled intellectualist view because it values the skill of applying language (as a priori) over and above all other skills and, more importantly, the matters themselves to which language is applied (i.e. any set of circumstances in the world that we attempt to describe). I have only seen shallow and insufficient evidence to support this view. After all, it is the things to which language is applied that matter, not the language itself.

Because there are no limits to how one can experience the world, we should never be misled into believing there are strict boundaries that limit our usage of a word. Our statements are an expression of our understanding. Our statements do not dictate understanding, as early-Wittgenstein thought. In fact, by this notion, we should even be allowed to take a word completely out of context, and just as long as we are able to communicate to at least one other person whatever idea is present to us by using that word, even if it is definitively unrelated, then we would not be using that word incorrectly. In fact, whether we realize it or not, we do this very often.

Whether true or untrue, contemporary schools of thought take for granted that meanings are not in the head. However, it seems clear that anyone’s interpretation of meaning is. It would seem that the most we can agree on is that communication occurs when two or more parties agree on meaning, but they could very well be using identical statements to assert two different things.

Perhaps “where is meaning?” is the wrong question to ask. There is nothing out there in the universe that we can observe in any fashion that dictates meaning. There are no dictionary definitions so precise that, from that definition, we are able to connote everything that is included in the word’s realm of possible references. If definitions were this way, i.e. if they served as rules of meaning, then such a dictionary would be so incredibly large, that it could never be printed. Perhaps it would have to be stored online for anyone to access and edit at a moment’s notice, much like Wikipedia. But still, usage among speakers would be dictating the definitions, so what good would these rules be at all? Definitions would begin to overlap more and more until every word would have so many connotations that it would be virtually indistinguishable from several other words. Is this not already the case?

Usage of phrases and words is in a constant state of flux. We collectively, and often unknowingly, adapt to these constant changes so there remains enough continuity for us to effectively communicate what we mean. Since this adaptation process is often subconscious, we need not think about it; we presume meaning by our usage, and we are almost always correct provided we, and those receiving our message, are fluent in that language.

If Tractatus were more accurate than P.I. in describing the fundamental nature of language, then to learn language would require a lot of memorization, much like one “learns” a foreign language in a classroom. This may allow us to learn something about the concepts of a language, but it does not teach us to effectively use the language within societal contexts, so, learning, in this case, would be much more difficult, and for many, impossible.

So, how to we actually learn language? We’ll have to go back to a time that we do not remember, so we must forget everything we now misunderstand about language. I’ll use the most parallel analogy I can think of:

When parents are teaching a child to walk, they do not simply explain to the child how to walk and expect him to be able to do it without practice. Obviously, the child is not yet proficient in grasping such a concept. Nor does a parent grab one of the child’s legs, put it in front of the other, then do the same with the other leg repeatedly, because the child has not yet developed the practical skill of walking, and one cannot learn such a skill in such a forced manner. The child needs a reason to walk, so the parents teach the child to walk by working toward a goal. One parent (let’s say, the father) stands the child up, and the other parent (the mother) kneels down a few feet away, holding her hands out to the child. The father acts as the spotter, and the mother acts as the goal. The child sees his mother, desires to reach her, and he has to walk to get there in the same way that he learned to crawl (or at least his parents will condition him to believe this based on their training methods). The same is true of language. It is the tool we use to communicate because we need to communicate to get what we want or need. We start out, as babies learning language, by blurting out the word ‘bear’ and pointing to our teddy bear in order to achieve the goal of the teddy bear itself. The child says ‘bear’ to express the general idea “I want that teddy bear” or the command “give that teddy bear to me”. He is communicating with the parent in this sense. He is expressing a desire to achieve a goal. He is not merely making a statement (that would be impossible). Language is the road, not the end of the road. There is no language for language’s sake just as there is no walking for walking’s sake. Language is used for a purpose – a goal – in any given situation.

How each person achieves his goal varies greatly. Not all children walk the same. Some are bowlegged, some are pigeon-toed, some drag their feet and trip on their shoelaces, and some cannot walk at all, so they utilize other tools such as wheelchairs. But they each adapt to their handicaps to get what they need – to get from A to B. Likewise, not everyone speaks the same. Some slur their ‘r’s, some pronounce their ‘s’s with a ‘th’ sound, some use poor grammar, and some cannot speak at all, so they learn sign language. Regardless, each adapts to their handicaps and uses language for the same purpose – to communicate.

Language in general is meant to be used practically, not to be merely understood conceptually. Of course, there are logical concepts to understand which will help us be more precise, but the understanding of those concepts is something like our understanding of how to walk: put one foot in front of the other. As long as you practice walking, you will learn the concept of walking to some extent, but it is the act of walking that is fruitful for the individual. Likewise, one learns the concepts of language to the extents that they need to, but only to the extent that they need to. This is why some children (and adults) in school grasp grammar well, and others do not, though they are able to orally communicate to much of the same effect in social and professional circles. Some are more conceptually-minded. Those prefer to master grammar in order to be as precise as possible both in writing and in speech. They will also make better teachers because they can adapt their language usage to a wide range of listeners. Others prefer to stick to practice and master other types of skills, and perhaps they will become better doers. Either way, practice comes prior to understanding in this case (but not necessarily in the case of everything).

And this is the point: It is only in the case that we look to the world that one might be able to explain language. The world is untamed, and so is the way we understand it and attempt to describe it – i.e. so is language itself. We play language games to adapt the meanings of utterances to our world. Otherwise meaning would be of no use to us, and that is certainly not the case.