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Educação e Realidade

versão impressa ISSN 0100-3143versão On-line ISSN 2175-6236

Educ. Real. vol.45 no.3 Porto Alegre  2020  Epub 21-Out-2020

https://doi.org/10.1590/2175-6236106763 

THEMATIC SECTION: WITTGENSTEIN AND EDUCATION

Wittgenstein’s Revolutionary Cookery: foods for taste-changing

João José R. L. de AlmeidaI 
http://orcid.org/0000-0002-9497-525X

IUniversidade Estadual de Campinas (UNICAMP), Campinas/SP - Brazil


Abstract:

It has always intrigued me how it would be possible that a strictly deconstructive form of philosophy, which never gives the reader any positive content at all, would be capable of holding some kind of concern with instruction and teaching. Perhaps a closer examination of one remark from a 1931 manuscript could help us to better evaluate whether this type of thinking would have such capacities and, for that matter, any pedagogical value.

Keywords: Wittgenstein’s Aesthetics; Anti-System Education; Learning vs. Conditioning

Resumo:

Sempre me intrigou como seria possível que uma forma de filosofia estritamente desconstrutiva, que nunca oferece nenhum conteúdo positivo a/o leitor/a, poderia ter algum tipo de interesse por educação e ensino. Talvez um exame mais de perto de uma observação de um manuscrito de 1931 pudesse nos ajudar a avaliar melhor se este tipo de pensamento seria capaz disso e, de resto, tivesse algum valor pedagógico.

Palavras-chave: Estética de Wittgenstein; Educação Antissistema; Aprendizagem versus Condicionamento

In arguing against a view of pedagogically informative concepts in Wittgenstein’s “learning by training”, Luntley has called our attention to the violent and arbitrary character of the noun Abrichtung, and the correlated verb abrichten, consistently used by the philosopher to describe contexts of acquisition of knowledge and skills in his numerous examples of language games. This tiny but colossally decisive detail about a particular use of an expression has remained practically unnoticed to the secondary literature for a long time. Anscombe chose the harmless designation of “training” to convey the rather harsh idea of “conditioning”, creating an unintended smoke screen around the term. But Luntley had the ability to see the problem and dispel the haze by observing that “‘Arbrichtung’ has a ‘very brutal tone’ and a native German speaker would ‘never use the term for children’” (2008, p. 697). In fact, the digging up and disclosure of this issue was carried out by Huemer two years before in a particular discussion about reasons, causes, and innate capacities:

Though the translation is definitely literal, it is crucial to note that there is an important difference between ‘abrichten’ and ‘to train’: while the English word ‘to train’ can be used for persons or animals - we speak of a trained piano player and can train children to ski or to ride a bike - the German ‘abrichten’ is exclusively used for animals, for training dogs to sit down on the command ‘sit’, or horses to gallop when the rider performs a certain bodily movement (typically she increases the pressure of the left leg and keeps the reins loose). The German word for training a child to play chess, to ski, or to speak a language is ‘lehren’ or ‘beibringen’ rather than ‘abrichten’ (Huemer, 2006, p. 207-208).

It is true that Wittgenstein never employs “lehren” or “beibringen” when describing pupils learning language games, except in cases of detailing or exemplifying how training operates in assimilating a particular procedure in trying to follow rules correctly, as can be seen, for example, in the circumstance described in RFM Part VII § 26.4 This is precisely the way in which Abrichtung and abrichten appear 12 times in PI (§§ 5, 6, 27, 86, 157-8, 189, 198, 206, 223, 441, 630); in RFM, nothing less than 24 times in similar contexts: Part I: § 1 (two times); § 22 (two times); Part III § 80; Part IV: § 30; Part V §§ 3, 9; Part VI §§ 16, 23, 31 (three times), 33 (four times), 42, 43; Part VII: §§ 26, 27, 30, 43, 47; and in the whole Nachlass,5 302 times in all their inflectional forms or declinations. The philosopher had really made a deliberate choice for an imperious name to designate learning by training, and didn’t fail to make his choice clearly explicit in at least two passages: one from BB, when he declares “I am using the word ‘trained’ in a way strictly analogous to that in which we talk of an animal being trained to do certain things” (1958, p. 77); another from RFM, when he ponders: “Am I to say: ‘Well, this arises from that type of training. Human beings who are so trained, so conditioned, then get into this kind of difficulty’?” (Part VII § 27).

Also working on the same disclosure, Friesen (2016) explored the consequences of this systematic employment of “training as conditioning” a little bit further, but now in order to outline the view that Wittgenstein would possibly have on education in general. For him, the conclusion that Wittgenstein has a tragic conception of the matter is undeniable: accordingly to a pessimistic tone in German-language contexts, he has couched his philosophy of education in very similar patterns to those of Nietzsche’s and Freud’s perspectives. Pedagogy is conceived as a kind of acculturation that alienates children from their own “original” nature (p. 9).

We could not but rapidly draw up the conjecture that all of these indications, taken together, are raw material to build a much more deconstructive than formative or edifying account of notions such as “rule-following”, “language games” or “forms of life” in Wittgenstein. Concepts certainly proposed by the author in connection with the warning that “If someone were to advance theses in philosophy, it would never be possible to debate them...” (PI § 128), or that “The work of the philosopher consists in marshalling recollections for a particular purpose” (PI § 127). They were only created to make comparisons and clarify problems, none of them was really meant to be used as an informational piece on anything empirical or philosophical. Their particular purpose surely is that “philosophical problems should completely disappear” (PI § 133). But if we ask ourselves now about the purpose of this deconstructive task in itself, we solely receive the answer that “what we are destroying are only houses of cards, and we are clearing up the ground of language on which they stood” (PI § 118). We then learn that we are effectively engaged in a task of destroying insubstantial buildings that were of no use, set up with confusing applications of our ordinary language.

No one should be caught by surprise in this situation about eventual side effects of sheer deconstructive interpretations of Wittgenstein’s philosophy. One of them probably corresponds to what has become known in the secondary literature as “quietism”. Although this label has acquired varied connotations (McDowell, 2009), what I particularly mean here is the idea that in the face of the tragic state of affairs and the darkness of our present time there is nothing effective that we could bring about to yield benefits or satisfaction to anything human, specially any cognitive content that could change our regrettable conditioning and docile adaptation to the inexorable forces of the fragmentation of culture and loss of strength in the affirmation of the individual, as a section of a preface to an intended book to be published in 1930 seems to be complaining (MS 109, p. 204-205). So, rule-followers just react as they are trained (PI § 198), act without reasons (PI § 211), blindly obey rules (PI § 219), and philosophy, noting that this is really the case, “leaves everything as it is” (PI § 124). It is in this sense that we could immediately jump to the conclusion that therapy does not have an agentive or constructive side by itself, and, on account of that, we would voice the same exasperated question uttered in PI § 118: “Where does this investigation get its importance from, given that it seems only to destroy everything interesting: that is, all that is great and important?”.

If this form of quietism is to obtain, there will hardly be any pedagogical value in Wittgenstein’s philosophical program. Nevertheless, it can be perfectly argued that this is definitely not so. An attentive examination of his texts can show that there is in fact an active and more important side of the therapeutic work which decisively belongs to the reader. But this can only happen if the text is taken literarily. It is only under this frame that we can realize that the textual structure needs a completion that otherwise would become more obscure or at least very difficult to get a full sense of it. Precisely in line with what Wittgenstein said in his 1930 preface just mentioned, it seems that transparency is clearly dependent on a respondent interaction:

[...] if a book has been written for only a few readers that will be clear just from the fact that only a few understand it. The book must automatically separate those who understand it & those who do not. [...] The decent thing to do is: put a lock on the doors that attracts only those who are able to open it & is not noticed by the rest (MS 109, p. 208-209).

So, the question that I want to briefly examine here is whether this particular reader operative side of Wittgenstein’s therapeutic program is triggered through this sort of “attraction factor” deliberately settled in his texts. In order to investigate what this might be, perhaps the best clue can be found in Cavell’s indications about “the literary conditions” of PI’s philosophical aims (2004, p. 21). However, I also think that it is not to be dismissed, in this case, Paul’s suggestions about PI’s incompleteness and, therefore, embeddedness into the Nachlass: “what deserves the term ‘original’ even more than Investigations itself is the complete effort in which that work is embedded as a central piece” (2007, p. 23) - a view in which Wittgenstein’s literariness should now be extended to the totality of writings: manuscripts, typescripts, notes, corrections, lectures, and letters. In this regard, we should also pay attention to another extremely important remark to understand PI’s literary character. It is a passage scribbled on April 23, 1938, but crossed out right after it had been noted down, right in the middle of the composition of the pre-war version of the unfinished book:

If I don’t really want to teach a more correct thinking, but a new movement of thought, then my purpose is a ‘transvaluation of values’, and I thereby come to Nietsche [sic] as well as to my view that a philosopher should be a poet (MS 120, p. 145r)6.

It is specifically in accordance with this proposal that Paul recommends that we should consider all of Wittgenstein’s texts as a single composite work of art. If we are to see his writings from an artistic point of view, then this is supposed to be our respondent interaction. But in the end, we should note, this is just an attitudinal issue: we can take his texts as either argumentative or literary. Which means that only the last perspective interests us for the completion of the therapeutic cycle, a situation in which judgments of taste are required rather than cognitive judgments. It is completely up to the reader, if we are to follow this lead, a predisposition of reckoning with the imagination (Altieri, 2015). It can be eventually done if there is propensity to respond in this way.

Assuming this point of view, it is Wittgenstein’s therapeutic project that is put under scrutiny. Does it presuppose a certain individuality, innateness, and inner competence in human nature? If this is so, is it possible to avoid, at the same time, the kind of response offered by Luntley in drawing a distinction between “learning by training” and “learning by reason”? It seems to me that, regarding Wittgenstein’s radicality in the face of “the darkness of our time” (PI’s preface), it would be better to skip any postulation of a “platform” of rational capabilities that would enable anyone to become a member of a social practice.7 In order to redeem some pedagogical values in Wittgenstein’s philosophical program, bypassing a problematic divide expressed by the dichotomy between reasons (normativism) and causes (determinism), and thus exploring Wittgenstein’s own anthropological naturalism, the best condition seems to be definitely to begin from Luntley’s (2017, p. 450) own conclusions:

[...] the subject that responds to training with learning does so because they are creatures of the aesthetic, creatures with an innate capacity and drive to make and live in patterns. Training a res imaginatio means providing affordances that engage their sense of aesthetic patterns. It requires a pedagogy framed by playful encounters with the patterns of the aesthetic.

Therefore, I would say that if we are to pursue the path to teaching in a more aesthetical or imaginative terms in accordance with Wittgensteinian lines, we should investigate the frame in which the philosopher has enclosed his “attraction factor”. And an outstanding candidate for this position in the Nachlass, to all appearances, is a remark collected from the MS 112, p. 112v: “Someone who teaches philosophy nowadays gives his pupil foods, not because they are to his taste, but in order to change his taste”. Let’s get a closer look into it.

Composing Remarks for a Philosophical Grammar

This remark is part of a collection of notes written in a 270-page manuscript during the fall of 1931. Since this is an excerpt embedded in the Nachlass, in the center of which is the capital and incomplete work of Wittgenstein, the Investigations, its context certainly deserves more detailed attention. We always have to ask ourselves how this small segment connects with the wide network that makes up the single composite work of art. Thus, MS 112, the large notebook that encompasses that remark, is set in an environment where Wittgenstein is eager to publish a new book. Only two years had passed since he returned to Cambridge determined to give a clear account of some dramatic changes in his philosophical perspective after almost a decade of TLP’s publication. It is possible that this situation was still a little bit confused at that time because this was being simultaneously done in two distinct fronts: on the one hand, Friedrich Waismann, a distinguished member of the Vienna Circle, took charge of writing down all the author’s discussions with him and Moritz Schlick during the philosopher’s periodic visits to Vienna, at Christmas and Easter, and compiling enough material for the publication of a new book (VW, p. xvi-xviii); on the other hand, the author himself was composing in Cambridge a collection of manuscripts and typescripts for exactly the same purpose. Those changes of philosophical perspective were not precisely related to his determination to use philosophy for anti-cognitive and therapeutic purposes, since this was quite assured and clear already in the section § 6.54 of TLP (Conant, 2001). Wittgenstein never departed from the feeling that the typically academic form of philosophy was foreign to him, and it was right in this direction that he was having a strong influence on Waismann and Schlick at the time (Wittgenstein, 1984). But his natural reaction was to develop a kind of philosophy in which academic subjects are engulfed in literary forms, something that perhaps was not yet clearly noticeable to Waismann.

Cavell depicts this typical literary response as a sort of stream flowing through, and bounded by, two distinct shores with different dynamics over the river that runs alongside both of them (2004). In reality, within this river, it was his method that was suffering drastic refinements, and would still suffer in the subsequent years. As Wittgenstein’s response inside this dynamic always consists of a critique of the use of language, he went from a logical and abstract view of the uses of the proposition in the capacity of mirror of facts, which represents the perspective sustained in the TLP, to a view of the use of propositions, and even words, as parts of systems endowed with pragmatic purposes, on which he was actually working out in 1931, to finally arrive, from 1933 until the end, on the idea of language games practiced within forms of life. Of course, the idea of language games as well as his written expression continued to refine over the years. The beauty of accompanying the development of the Nachlass as a whole is to watch the parade’s procession of different methods and therapies along the years (PI § 133).

In the Cambridge front of the battle for writing this book, Wittgenstein composed 8 manuscripts between the winter of 1929 and the fall of 1931 (MSS 105, 106, 107, 108, 109, 110, 111, and 112). From these manuscripts, just three typescripts were brought forth: TSS 208 (from MSS 105, 106, 107, and 108), 209 (based on the TS 208), and 210 (based on the second half of MS 108). His philosophical development in this short period of time can be grasped even through the successive changing in the titles of the manuscripts. He went from “Philosophical Remarks” (MSS 105, 108, and 110) and “Philosophical Considerations” (MS 107) up to “Remarks Concerning Philosophy” (MS 111) and “Remarks Concerning Philosophical Grammar” (MS 112). Thus, MS 112 is characterized in this series for emphasizing the method of analyzing propositions and words inside systems endowed with pragmatic purposes, precisely seeking the grammars in which these propositions and words are immersed at the occasion of their application. This is the context in which we have to read his rare pedagogical indication.

The Philosopher Unexpected Spices

Taking all this background into consideration, I think that it is possible to rescue at least five indications contained in that remark, confirming them elsewhere in the same manuscript as well as in the Nachlass. So, the first element that calls our attention here is that it is completely indifferent in the excerpt about what kind of foods are to be offered to the pupil, that is, if they are the same or different from those he or she already knew. The point is that they have to be exotic to him or her, because the purpose of that teaching is to expand the pupil’s aesthetic repertoire. Nevertheless, there is nothing more difficult, indeed, than to change one’s taste, since it is inherited in one’s culture, and, for this reason, it is deeply entrenched by early education and family relations. Arbitrarily constraining a person to change his/her taste is a method that would clearly fail in this case. The only hope is to capture the pupil’s will by the visual aspect of the dish or through the condiments added to complement the foods. So, there is no doubt that Wittgenstein was working on an aesthetic plan to change cognitive attitudes through aesthetic means, but not exactly to please or entertain the learner. A later reverberation of this philosophical preference can be found when he says in the MS 162b, p. 59v that “People nowadays think, scientists are there to instruct them, poets, musicians, etc., to entertain them. That the latter have something to teach them; that never occurs to them”.

The second significant element in that remark is that our author is really committed to a profound modification of the dominant culture in which the pupil is immersed. But curiously his engagement is with the individual, not with the society as a whole. For a person who believes that education is only conditioning, this is a very eloquent sample of a belief in the individual’s capacities, apart from any social coercion, however rooted it may be. This is probably an indication that Wittgenstein wants a more complete form of revolution than simply overthrowing one social or political regime and replace it with another. It seems to be a revolution on our life system as a whole, on our way of thinking, reasoning, and conceiving life as it is implied in the word progress: “our civilization is characterized by the word progress” (MS 109, p. 207). This is a kind of change that cannot simply be produced by the same forces that sustain our present civilization, and that can only occur suddenly and unexpectedly by accident, such as the result, for example, of a pandemic:

The sickness of a time is cured by an alteration in the mode of life of human beings, and it was possible for the sickness of philosophical problems to get cured only through a changed mode of thought and of life, not through a medicine invented by an individual.

Think of the use of the motor-car producing or encouraging certain sicknesses, and mankind being plagued by such sickness until, from some cause or other, as the result of some development or other, it abandons the habit of driving (RFM, Part II, § 23).

As for what he saw as a real revolutionary change, he characterized it thirteen years later by saying: “The revolutionary will be the one who can revolutionize himself” (MS 165, p. 204).

The third important element I want to highlight in that remark is that the cookery’s attractiveness is actually dispensed through writing. This is revealed two pages later in the manuscript where he notes: “I must be nothing more than the mirror in which my reader sees his own thinking with all its deformities & with this assistance can set it in order” (MS 112, p. 113v). Obviously, what is expected as a result of widening one’s aesthetic repertoire is that the reader can finally recognize the difference between before and after, and, subsequently, see things differently. But recognizing deformities in one’s thinking and set it in order is dependent on comparison with a standard, so what will be the accepted measurement? The answer is none but the reader’s own thinking, since the text is meant to be just a mirror. In other words, the reader is allured by a text in which she or he expects to get something in the same way that a gourmet looks forward to exploring cuisine’s pleasures. But, in return, neither the reader, nor even the gourmet, really gets what is expected.

So, the fourth element is about the frustrating results. Seeing specifically oneself means that there is no cognition about empirical matters, no piece of new information about anything, and, worse than that, nothing alluring or hidden at all, because “everything lies open to view” (PI § 126). It is all about the same things we’ve been doing all the time and couldn’t see because of its familiarity and closeness (PI § 103). It is interesting that in the same page 113v, already alluded to, that we can find other two significant remarks. The first reads: “The only dignified task of philosophy is: to destroy the old idols of philosophy. That is, its only connection with gods”; and the second: “Philosophy takes all of its emphasis from the conception it destroys”. Both are clearly resounded in the section § 118 of PI, quoted above. It is in this sense that we can see that the real question when this task of destruction is complete can only be: “Then, what is left?”. The answer, also hinted at PI § 118, is just the ground of language on which those conceptions were built up. Consequently, the real discovery was already there all the time, it’s not a discovery at all, except those about “some piece of plain nonsense and the bumps that the understanding has got by running up against the limits of language” (PI § 119). This means that the reader’s conceptions and assumptions probably were ill founded according to the same material from which they were built up in the first place. The image in the mirror simply prompted us to ask what we did to ourselves with what we had previously at hand, and who or what forced us, after all, to become like that. At our disposal rests our own confused employment of language. As attested by the continuation of PI § 119, “the bumps make us see the value of that discovery”.

The fifth element, of course, has to do with the bumping after-effects particularly designed to the right kind of reader, the only one who is able to open the locked door. And perhaps this is the main reason why Wittgenstein is not ultimately interested in the universal competence of human reason, despite assuming it anyhow. Inner competence is not enough to open the door. The only capacity that can be exercised from that point on is the efficient use of the will. So, revolutionizing oneself is a previous condition.

This was expressively demonstrated a bunch of pages before in the manuscript, when Wittgenstein commented about Ramsey’s bourgeois mentality by doing philosophy of mathematics:

Ramsey was a bourgeois thinker. I.e. he thought with the aim of clearing up the affairs of some particular community. He did not reflect on the essence of the state - or at least he did not like doing so - but on how this state might reasonable be organized. The idea that this state might not be the only possible one partly disquieted him and partly bored him. He wanted to get down as quickly as possible to reflecting on the foundations - of this state. This was what he was good at & what really interested him; whereas real philosophical reflection disquieted him until he put its result (if it had one) on one side as trivial (MS 112, p. 70v-71r).

Wittgenstein is clearly interested in getting us out of this bourgeois state and does not admit any compromise solution with the rationale of which he describes as “the prevailing European and American civilization [...], the expression of which is the industry, architecture, music, of present day fascism & socialism” (MS 109, p. 205). It is because of this that he cannot but conclude that the philosopher must always be an outsider: “(The philosopher is not a citizen of a community of thinking. That is what makes him a philosopher.)” (MS 112, p. 72r). Making oneself understood out of the bourgeois system, or to lost oneself in the language’s labyrinth of paths and confessing “I don’t know my way about” (PI § 123), surely is such a condition. This is also made clear when we read eight pages ahead of the remark in focus that “Language sets everyone the same traps; it is an immense network of well-kept wrong turnings” (MS 112, p. 116v). Finding and inventing ways through the maze wandering, and thus creating surveyable representations that could get us to “see connections” (PI § 122), should provide us with the kind of understanding we need in such a tragic civilizatory condition, as far as I can tell by reading such remarks. It is in such capacity that the mirror created by the author’s writing might serve as “... signposts at all the junctions where there are wrong turnings, to help people past the danger points” (MS 116, p. 116v).

A Claim for Inclusive Education

The operative side of the therapeutic cycle is clearly up to the reader. Wittgenstein’s texts simply don’t offer a model to be applied, nor even they are able to be easily followed. In fact, it is quite the opposite: the reader is compelled “to travel crisscross in every direction over a wide field of thought” (PI’s preface). Through this journey, she or he assembles all the sketches of landscapes that could be collected during the excursion the way that looks best to her or him. The fact is that PI, and, for that matter, the whole Nachlass, is just an album, that is, it requires a much more interactive approaching than a regular book of philosophy; it demands a kind of reading agency that reminds those types of judgments for which Kant has circumscribed to the will the dominant part: spontaneous acts of judgment exercised in the realms of ethics and aesthetics. While in the cognitive realm the imagination is reproductive and restricted to applying models received from conceptual frameworks, in the latter the imagination is rather productive and creates for itself rules according to which it will conceptualize, in an unprecedented way, the material perceived in the empirical world. According to this conception, the spontaneity of the human will assemble the necessary capacities to set this operation in motion.

Wittgenstein never confines to merely the human reason the decisive role, as if the most fundamental questions of philosophy could be reached solely in terms of the rational use of the argument. This is exactly what he wrote about Moore’s proof of an external world: “From its seeming to me - or to everyone - to be so, it doesn’t follow that it is so. What we can ask is whether it can make sense to doubt it” (OC § 2). That is, he always appeals to the human will as the fundamental kind of engagement in which certainty is deposited in grammatical settings. Globally speaking, Wittgenstein incites the reader to a rebellion for which there is yet no model available, as if it were a permanent resistance in human nature waiting for the formation of something still unpredictable, whose realization still depends on everyone being adequately prepared. To be sure, ideals like these are easily found in the Schillerian romantic paradigm of Aesthetic Education. But, despite the similarities, and although having quoted Schiller so many times (MSS 110, p. 256; 156b, p. 33r; 116, p. 292; 128, p. 4, 7; 129, p. 146; 130, p. 154; 183, p. 25-26; 134, p. 34r; 136, p. 80a; TS 228 §§ 212, 296), I doubt we could establish any kind of metaphysical affiliation to such form of thinking. Wittgenstein is a much closer follower of Goethe’s morphological program (GB, p. 133), which he pragmatically employs into his synoptic methodology (PI § 122).

These are the aesthetical parameters, so it seems to me, in which the author expects something could be taught. Just like when he quotes Nietzsche and the need for a literary form of philosophy (see above), it is notorious how easily he uses the verbs “lehren” (to teach) and “belehren” (to instruct) in connection to aesthetic situations, as in this curious commentary on American movies from 1947:

A foolish & naive American film can in all its foolishness & by means of it be instructive. A fatuous, non-naive English film can teach nothing. I have often drawn a lesson from a foolish American film (MS 134, p. 89).

This productive use of the imagination is expected as long as the reader therapeutically works out the texts, engaging her/his will or reckoning with her/his own imagination to see things differently after bumping her/his head sometimes against the limits of language. But looking for a way out of the maze of philosophical confusions by establishing surveyable presentations of the problems is an exercise that is entirely up to the reader.

I think this revolutionary summoning within an aesthetic environment is, in fact, a form of inclusive education, but in the reverse direction of customary pedagogical practices. Instead of widening opportunities to include people into the kind of instruction that ultimately feeds the same system that excluded them in the first place, the imaginative Wittgensteinian proposal seems to summon the necessary capacities to bring together the excluded through a pedagogical form primarily based on a sort of strange education of the senses in order to eventually change the world.

REFERENCES

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LUNTLEY, Michael. Wittgenstein and the Path of Learning. In: PETERS, Michael; STICKNEY, Jeff (Ed.). A Companion to Wittgenstein on Education. Basel: Springer, 2017. P. 437-451. [ Links ]

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WITTGENSTEIN, Ludwig. The Bergen Nachlass Edition. 2020. Disponível em: Disponível em: <http://www.wittgensteinsource.org >. Acessado em: 15 jul. 2020. [ Links ]

1According to a customary convention on Wittgenstein’s works, the following abbreviations are used in this paper: BB – The Blue and Brown Books (Wittgenstein, 1965); GB – Remarks on Frazer’s Golden Bough (Wittgenstein, 1993); MS – Nachlass’ manuscript (Wittgenstein, 2020); OC – On Certainty (Wittgenstein, 1969); RFM – Remarks on the Foundations of Mathematics (Wittgenstein, 1978); PI – Philosophical Investigations (Wittgenstein, 2009); TLP – Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus (Wittgenstein, 1974); TS – Nachlass’ typescript (Wittgenstein, 2020); VW – The Voices of Wittgenstein (Wittgenstein, 2003). The sign “§” refers to sections in some of Wittgentein’s works; the letters “v” or “r” added to some manuscript’s page numbers correspond to “verso” (the leftt-hand page of an open book) or “recto” (the right-hand page of an open book).

2Wittgenstein’s Nachlass (his literary estate), can be found nowadays for the most part in the Wittgenstein Archives at The University of Bergen. Free access in: http://www.wittgensteinsource.org.

3This translation is mine.

4Luntley employs the word “platform” 31 times in the 17 pages of his Luntley, 2008.

Editor-in-charge: Carla Vasques

Received: June 02, 2020; Accepted: August 23, 2020

João José R. L. de Almeida is Associate Professor at the School of Applied Sciences in the State University of Campinas, Brazil. ORCID: http://orcid.org/0000-0002-9497-525X E-mail: joaojose@unicamp.br

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