This book is intended as a guide for anyone who faces the daunting task of reading Ludwig Wittgenstein’s Philosophical Investigations. Hence, it is primarily aimed at philosophy students, but I think it might be used by anyone with an interest in reading the Investigations. The key word here is used. This book is intended to be a handbook, and so should be read in conjunction with the Investigations. It is not meant to be a summary or exposition of the Investigations that can be read independently. I will elaborate on this in what follows.
Attempting any sort of commentary on Wittgenstein’s Philosophical Investigations is bound to be a difficult business. The chief difficulty is the obscurity of the work. Most of the “blame” for this rests with Wittgenstein himself, who took no pains to clarify his work or make understanding it any easier for the reader. A further tendency among commentators that adds greatly to the confusion surrounding the Investigations is the attempt at fitting Wittgenstein into a particular philosophical mold. There has been an inclination, particularly early on, but which still exists, to see Wittgenstein simply as an analytic philosopher or a positivist. Many commentators have tried to understand Wittgenstein through the lens of traditional philosophy—whether that tradition is classical, modern, analytic, or even phenomenological. He has also been linked to Freudianism, deconstruction, existentialism, skepticism—the list of “Wittgenstein and . . .” books is long. Clearly, there is an enormous amount of secondary literature on Wittgenstein, and it shows no sign of abating. It has been well said that for someone who generally disdained academic philosophy, Wittgenstein has certainly kept many of us in business.
It is not my purpose here to take issue with any of Wittgenstein’s interpreters, but it should be noted that there are a variety of often-conflicting approaches to Wittgenstein and the study of his work. A beginning student trying to survey this secondary literature would understandably get confused, possibly dizzy (or maybe just bored silly).
Obviously, this scholarship on Wittgenstein contains a great deal that is commendable—his work would be impossible to understand without it. And there is undoubtedly a similarity between Wittgenstein and some other thinkers of the twentieth century, particularly those we would call “postmodern.” It would be wrong to deny the connection between Wittgenstein and analytic philosophy or positivism. For a while Wittgenstein was certainly taken with Freud, and many have noted the “therapeutic” nature of Wittgenstein’s later work. Wittgenstein’s admiration for Kierkegaard is well documented, and so a connection with existentialism is certainly not beyond the pale.
Be that as it may, I think many of the approaches that connect Wittgenstein to various “isms” have suffered, in general, from trying to connect Wittgenstein to one or more philosophical theories. Typically, from Wittgenstein’s remarks on psychology one thinker tries to see Wittgenstein as advancing or supporting some psychological hypothesis. Based on his remarks on language another makes a connection to a theory of meaning. But I hope I can demonstrate in what follows that this approach to the Investigations clouds rather than clarifies the work.
Wittgenstein expressly denies that he is advancing any philosophical theories in the Investigations, and I would say that he makes a similar denial in the Tractatus. Consider the following quote from the Tractatus.1
6.53 The correct method in philosophy would really be the following: to say nothing except what can be said, i.e., the propositions of natural science—i.e. something that has nothing to do with philosophy—and then, whenever someone else wanted to say something metaphysical, to demonstrate to him that he had failed to give a meaning to certain signs in his propositions. Although this would not be satisfying to the other person—he would not have the feeling that we were teaching him philosophy—this method would be the only correct one.
While reading Philosophical Investigations I have often felt like the would-be student of philosophy mentioned above. That the work contains a critique of various philosophical ideas becomes obvious after a while, but I have often wanted to say, “Well, if this is wrong, then tell me what is right. What is the correct theory of concepts, the mind, language, etc.?” Despite vehement protests from the work to the contrary, I kept thinking that there were theories or viewpoints to be found, that it must be a puzzle that I was supposed to figure out, as in one of Wittgenstein’s much beloved detective magazines. After all, Wittgenstein said in his preface that he was not trying to “spare anyone the trouble of thinking.” But the theories or philosophy that I was hoping to find eluded me, and I began to think that perhaps they always would.
However, once I let go of the notion that the Investigations contained certain theories or ideas that were cryptically presented, the work became clearer. Contrary to first impressions, I think Wittgenstein is being very straightforward in the Investigations. Wittgenstein maintains (and often corrects) many important themes of the Tractatus. In fact, although this statement will require a great deal of elaboration, I would say that the heart of both the Tractatus and the Investigations is logic. The Investigations identifies philosophy with the logical critique of language, and the whole project is aimed at showing the futility of trying to cross the boundaries of language. We invest in many pictures that we think will get us “there.” It is only when we give up these pictures that the truth has a chance to emerge. But don’t look to Wittgenstein for this truth. Wittgenstein’s work is of a logical nature, and so is neither true nor false in that sense. In other words, a truth of logic such as a = b, b = c, therefore a = c does not represent an empirical or scientific truth. A logical truth cannot be proven by real-world facts or evidence in the way, for example, a scientific theory is proven true by an experiment or an observation. So, as we will see, Wittgenstein is not doing science, psychology, anthropology, or anything of the sort. His aim is to focus the lens through which we look at language so that we say clearly only what can be said.
Of course I am sure there are those who would disagree, at least in part, with the above paragraph. Again, it’s not the purpose of this book to disagree with or analyze other interpretations of the Investigations. This would involve critiquing readings of readings of Wittgenstein, and my purpose here is to stick as close to his text as possible. The intent here is to produce a reading of the Investigations, not a detailed commentary on Wittgensteinian scholarship.
I certainly would not claim the last word on the Investigations. Thanks to many years of hard work and the hard work of the many scholars who have tackled the Investigations, I can admit to experiencing less puzzlement now than when I started reading the book, and this is something I would like to impart to others, particularly students. I think the Investigations deserves its reputation as a great, original work of philosophy, and it deserves to be read. Sometimes I get the impression that we are getting to a point in the appreciation of Wittgenstein that is straying from the original texts. Once again, Wittgenstein is mostly to blame for this state of affairs. The Investigations, as we will see, aims at a high degree of precision (even that the book has this aim is far from obvious) and so is devoid of ornament of any kind. There is no fluff to cushion the shock of reading the book. Hence we naturally turn to anything else—lecture notes from students, Wittgenstein’s own notes, anything to make the work more accessible. This is fine as long as we then read the book. A similar situation occurs in modern art—we find it inaccessible, so we turn to notes made by the artist—preliminary sketches and so on, so that we can understand the work. But this should not be mistaken for viewing the work itself. I’m sure many would agree that an appreciation of the text is of primary importance.
There are, of course, a number of good books commenting on the Investigations. There are a few points that I hope will distinguish my approach. First and foremost I aim to make the book accessible to students or beginners—and to do so without distortion. In general, I’d like the Investigations to show itself. Wittgenstein has a lot to offer to even the casual student of philosophy, but beginners can be put off by the lack of traditional style, among other things. While I don’t intend to rewrite the book by any means—I think the style and order to the book is intentional, even artistic—I do think many readers will benefit from some general background. However, to do proper justice to the “background” of the Investigations would require a few separate volumes (at least). My aim is to supply what’s needed so that students can get the general drift of what’s going on and then can head back to the text at their own pace. If a reader is patient, open-minded, and does not try to force the work into any particular mold, Wittgenstein will answer most of our initial questions (“What is going on?” “What has grammar got to do with anything?” “Is this some bold new psychological theory?” “Why can’t you just say what you think?”). Always remember Wittgenstein is a great talker but a terrible listener. My text is meant to help you listen.
I am also aiming at a certain degree of completeness. Because this work is introductory there will be depths and controversies to the Investigations that we will not touch. It is not my intention to slide over any important section, but certain parts will get shorter shrift than others. In lieu of dissecting every bit of the text, I have tried to comment on what I think are representative texts from each major section or idea of the Investigations. My hope is that this will give the reader enough direction to fly solo. I also want to say a good bit on part II. Part II, I think, is somewhat overlooked and sometimes little understood.
There is a tremendous temptation to try to understand Wittgenstein through biographical information, his conversations with students, and various other of Wittgenstein’s published notes and writings. All of this is extremely valuable, and the student may find many or all of these sources helpful. But all of this would take a great deal of sorting and weeding out. Reading Remarks on the Foundations of Mathematics or Philosophical Grammar would take as much work (or more) than reading the Investigations. This approach would throw some light on the Investigations, but it would be slow going and would probably decrease the value of the present introduction. In what follows, I have tried to explain the text by sticking to the text.
The only point at which I have deviated from this plan of not relying on outside texts is by including some biographical and cultural information and some remarks on the Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus. While I don’t want to include a reading of Wittgenstein’s earlier classic here, it is clear that, as Wittgenstein instructs in his preface, the Investigations should be seen against the backdrop of the Tractatus. The Tractatus is a wonderful but difficult book that is still the center of controversy. Much of this difficulty has come from a failure to appreciate the intellectual arena in which Wittgenstein was working. Wittgenstein’s philosophical work was done mostly in Cambridge, so he is most often associated with analytic philosophy. However, Wittgenstein’s intellectual formation took place in Vienna, and I agree with those who think his work must be seen in this light.
Finally, I wish to shed some light on the relationship of the Investigations to ethics and aesthetics. Although these areas are somewhat neglected in commentaries on the Investigations, I believe they are integral to understanding the work. Just as we have come to realize that the Tractatus embodies an ethical and aesthetic stance that has deep connections to Wittgenstein’s cultural background, I think we will also see a similar relationship in the Investigations. Although Wittgenstein expanded his philosophical horizons as time wore on, he never intellectually wandered too far from his Viennese roots.
The subject of many biographies, novels, and even films, Ludwig Wittgenstein remains one of the twentieth century’s most intriguing figures. While at Cambridge University, first as a student (1911–1914) and later as a professor (1929–1947), Wittgenstein was noted for his austerity. His rooms were sparsely furnished and his attire very plain. As a teacher, Wittgenstein rarely, if ever, took part in the displays of status and privilege that would normally be accorded to faculty members, let alone the Cambridge Professor of Philosophy. However, this outward simplicity belied a very complex personality. And though the lifestyle of Wittgenstein’s later years was extremely humble, the ambiance of his youth was anything but.
Born in 1889, Ludwig Wittgenstein was the youngest member of one of Europe’s wealthiest families. Ludwig’s father, Karl, was a major force in the Austrian steel industry, a self-made multimillionaire. Karl’s family was Jewish in his grandfather’s time but had converted to Protestantism, probably motivated by anti-Semitism. Anti-Semitism, which was soon to play a dominant role in the emergence of National Socialism, has had a long history in Austria. Because of Ludwig’s mother, the children were all baptized Roman Catholics. In contrast to other German-speaking countries, the Catholic Church played a very significant role in Austrian society, particularly among the aristocracy. However, it is unlikely that the Wittgenstein children were baptized to ensure social status. The Wittgenstein’s had little involvement with Austrian politics or the titled nobility. When it was offered, Karl refused to have the aristocratic “von” attached to his name. Apparently the family was not overly religious, and Ludwig’s own interest in practicing Catholicism lapsed in grade school.
Where the arts were concerned the story was completely different. The Wittgenstein’s were passionate about the arts, particularly music. The Wittgenstein children, who were held to very exacting standards by their father, were not expected simply to appreciate music but to be accomplished musicians. Paul Wittgenstein became a well-known concert pianist, and when he lost his right arm during the First World War, he commissioned Ravel to compose a concerto for the left hand. Ludwig’s brothers, Hans and Rudolf, also wanted to pursue careers in music. But Karl refused to allow it, insisting instead that they study engineering and join the family business. Both Hans and Rudolf committed suicide.
The grand “Palais Wittgenstein,” as the Wittgenstein mansion was known outside the family, was a magnet for the cultural elite of Vienna. Many of the great musicians and artists of the day, such as the composer Brahms and the artist Gustav Klimt, were family friends, and many more greatly benefited from the family’s extensive patronage of the arts.
In Wittgenstein’s day, Vienna drew those figures that were near the pinnacle of the arts and sciences in modern Europe. Mozart, Beethoven, and Brahms all found their way to Vienna in their time. Vienna was home to Schubert, Gustav Mahler, the Strauss family, and Arnold Schoenberg. Viennese scientists included Ernst Mach, who had an influence on Einstein; Ludwig Boltzmann, the father of statistical mechanics and early champion of the atomic theory; and of course Freud and the founders of psychoanalysis. Literature in Vienna was no less distinguished, with the likes of Robert Musil, Arthur Schnitzler, and Georg Trakl. Otto Wagner and Adolf Loos are lauded as founding figures in modern architecture. In addition to Klimt, the notable artists working in Vienna during Wittgenstein’s life included many leaders of the German expressionist movement, such as Oskar Kokoschka, Egon Schiele, and Richard Gerstl. Philosophy in Vienna gave us not only Wittgenstein but also the likes of Moritz Schlick, Rudolf Carnap, and Karl Popper. The majority of the above luminaries worked in Vienna during Wittgenstein’s life, and he knew or worked with many of them. We have already noted that Brahms and Klimt were family friends. Wittgenstein met with the architect Adolf Loos on several occasions and worked with Loos’s student, Paul Engelmann, on the design and construction of Margaret Wittgenstein’s house in Vienna. He likely attended lectures by Boltzmann and was intent on studying with him. Both Carnap and Schlick expressed the depth of Wittgenstein’s impact on their work. He left, anonymously, a large portion of his substantial inheritance to Georg Trakl (Rainer Maria Rilke also benefited from Wittgenstein’s largesse). If we add the names of Gottlob Frege, Bertrand Russell, and Alfred North Whitehead, founders of modern logic, Wittgenstein’s intellectual circle included many of the prime movers in the birth of contemporary arts, sciences, and philosophy.
The list of geniuses associated with Vienna during Wittgenstein’s lifetime is indeed long and impressive, but there was also a darker side to Viennese life. Many Viennese youth, particularly from the upper classes and many prominent intellectuals, including the aforementioned Boltzmann, abruptly and often inexplicably ended their lives. Despite the conspicuous wealth and cultural splendor of Vienna, poverty and homelessness were equally obvious, yet often callously ignored by the wealthy. Anti-Semitism was openly practiced. Adolph Hitler was educated and eventually indoctrinated into the tenets of National Socialism in Vienna under the tutelage of the future mayor of Vienna, Karl Lueger, who made anti-Semitism a major plank in his political party (though he was not the first to do so).2
To the casual observer, Vienna was a city of magnificent architecture and grand boulevards dotted with cafes and shops offering the finest in luxuries. A growing, wealthy middle class, enjoying the benefits of a booming economy, built lavish homes, spent excessively, and patronized the arts to signify their wealth and taste. But beneath the surface, Viennese society was fractured by the many tensions that were symptomatic of the broader decline and approaching demise of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. The Empire, which would dissolve altogether in 1918 after a crushing defeat in World War I, had been a dominant power in Europe since the Middle Ages. But by the late nineteenth century it had become a loose federation of various nationalities—Austrians, Hungarians, Serbs, Croats, Czechs, Slays, to name a few. Very little united these people other than the recognition of Franz Joseph (1830–1916) as emperor, and they were at odds more often than not. Each group at various times sought independence or at least recognition of its unique culture and language. Language was a particularly contentious issue in the region. Most other nationalities resented having German as an official language and often refused to speak it. Outside of Austria, the conflict over language sometimes grew violent. Within Austria, this situation was partly responsible for generating a strong pro-German movement and a desire among many in the middle-and lower-middle classes for unification with Germany. Sadly, the Austrians would get their wish with the Anschluss at the start of World War II.
While the majority of the bourgeois and the aristocracy in early twentieth-century Vienna partied incessantly, apparently blithely unaware of the disaster on the horizon, a group of young intellectuals started to criticize the pretense and façade that dominated Viennese culture. Clearly the middle class in Vienna was obsessed with art. But for these young intellectuals art had become mere decoration and ornament. The Viennese collected art almost as indifferently as one might collect stamps, coins, or baseball cards. Owning expensive art was little more than a sign of status. The meaning of the art—its depth—particularly any moral significance—escaped them entirely. Another feature of art for the middle class that infuriated these young intellectuals was its use as a means of recalling the past glory of the Austrian Empire. Most bourgeois Viennese were only interested in art that imitated past masters or dwelt on historical themes. This not only stifled artistic innovation but also caused social stagnation by blinding the middle class to the problems of the present.
These young Viennese thinkers brought the darker side of life in Vienna into focus, revealing their society as morally bankrupt. The real passion of the Viennese middle class was business, practiced with a ruthlessness that might make Machiavelli blush. The successful Viennese businessman enjoyed a decadent, hedonistic lifestyle, cloaked with the words and ritual of pious Christianity and a meticulous adherence to the manners of Old World European civilization. Autocratic fathers ruled their families absolutely and favored a repressive educational system where the students were expected, master a demanding curriculum and absorb the Christian morality that the adult population preached but did not practice. Children were allowed to succeed only on their fathers’ terms, and failure was not tolerated. Family life could be as difficult for the wives as it was for the children. A man married to advance his business interests and social standing; love was not of primary importance, if regarded at all. The concerns of women were not counted, and women were not expected to have lives outside the home. As for the rest of society, the wealthy, noble, and famous were to be courted and fawned over, while the poor, unfortunate, or unsuccessful were best forgotten. As far as social attitudes were concerned, the Viennese elite openly practiced racism and anti-Semitism. It is a small wonder that Freud’s practice, even though it was more or less officially disdained, was so successful in such an environment
Among the Viennese intellectuals who critiqued and tried to alter this state of affairs were Arnold Schoenberg in music, Adolf Loos in architecture, and perhaps most importantly the journalist and social critic Karl Kraus. Kraus’s journal Die Fackel (The Torch) was a lightning rod for the criticism of the superficiality and what he and many others saw as the moral degeneracy of Viennese society.
A thorough examination of these thinkers would be beyond the scope of this introduction, but we will return to some of their ideas in the conclusion. For now, we can say that they believed that many of their fellow artists had been alienated from the true meaning and purpose of art. They thought that many of their contemporaries had sold out to the middle class’s desire for art as mere decoration. Art, they believed, had become all about form and lacked content. Even in architecture, function, logical simplicity, and clarity of design had become lost in layers of clutter that was supposed to be beautiful but was actually useless, signifying nothing. The architect Adolf Loos’s seminal article “Ornament and Crime” lamented the fraudulent substitution of decoration for quality in materials and craftsmanship. Loos’s own architecture integrated the natural beauty of the materials with a functional simplicity in design and construction. Wittgenstein counted Loos’s ideas as one of his principle influences.
In general, these thinkers held that art should reject ornamentation and style, and the artist of every discipline should strive for purity. Above all, the purpose of art should be moral and reveal the character of the artist, meaning that only a person of integrity can create true art. For Kraus this was most evident in language. For Kraus, many of the horrors of the modern age were caused by the corruption of language. It was Kraus’s belief that in its pure state certain evils cannot be spoken in German. An extraordinary statement to be sure, but one about which Kraus was passionate. He spent his life searching to purify the German language. Kraus was fond of saying, “I cannot get myself to accept that a whole sentence can ever come from half a man.” For Kraus, language revealed the person, and he saw no distinction between ethics and aesthetics. The artist who simply manipulated a medium merely for money, style, or conformity to a particular school was amoral at least, and therefore usually the subject of a scathing, often satirical, polemic in Die Fackel. Kraus believed an artist lacking a moral dimension was worthy only of contempt. Kraus revered authors such as Kierkegaard and Tolstoy whose intensely personal moral dilemmas became the subject of their works and whose lives reflected simplicity and lack of pretense. As is the case with his friend Loos, Kraus had huge impact on Wittgenstein. Wittgenstein was rarely without the latest edition of Die Fackel. He even had it delivered to him while in seclusion in Norway in 1913. Probably because of Kraus’s influence, Wittgenstein became an avid reader of both Kierkegaard and Tolstoy. He claimed that reading Tolstoy’s The Gospel in Brief saved his life. Again we will return to these ideas in depth in the conclusion.
Wittgenstein’s plans to study physics with Ludwig Boltzmann were thwarted by Boltzmann’s suicide in 1906. Possibly trying to accede to his father’s wishes, but also through his own early inclination, Wittgenstein registered as a research student in engineering, specializing in aeronautics at the University of Manchester in 1908. At some point, apparently coinciding with reading Russell’s Principles of Mathematics, published in 1903, Wittgenstein became interested in logic and the foundations of mathematics. After reading Russell’s work, Wittgenstein sought out and had some discussions on logic with the brilliant and original German logician Gottlob Frege. Frege was one of the founders of modern logic, and he spent most of his career in an attempt at proving that mathematics was a branch of logic, a view Wittgenstein shared. Frege’s command of the science of logic greatly impressed Wittgenstein during these meetings, but apparently Frege was more puzzled by Wittgenstein than anything else. Wittgenstein followed Frege’s advice and went to Cambridge to study with Bertrand Russell.
At the turn of the twentieth century, Russell and his colleague G. E. Moore started a philosophical revolution at Cambridge that came to be known as analytic philosophy. The philosophy of the period had been dominated by German idealism, which Russell and Moore believed had needlessly confused philosophers by blurring issues with layers of convoluted idealist metaphysics. Russell and Moore relied on logic and a realist theory of knowledge to banish confusion from philosophical concepts, and therefore, they believed, to actually solve the philosophical problems that had plagued mankind for over two thousand years. In much the same way, the logical positivists, such as Moritz Schlick and Rudolf Carnap of the so-called Vienna Circle, turned to logical analysis and empiricism in order to purge scientific discourse of metaphysical speculation.
Wittgenstein began attending Russell’s lectures in 1911, and then registered formally as a student in 1912. Though he was soon impressed with Wittgenstein’s genius, Russell at first did not know what to make of this intense young man who would discuss logic and mathematics incessantly, sometimes long into the night. It was not long before Russell began to think of Wittgenstein first as a protégé, then as a colleague, friend, and collaborator. However, Russell and Wittgenstein eventually came to a parting of the ways. Russell was a committed philosopher, but unlike Wittgenstein it was not his ruling passion. Russell told of one late-night philosophy discussion during which Wittgenstein nervously and silently paced the floor. “Are you thinking about logic or your sins?” asked Russell. “Both,” replied Wittgenstein. I don’t think Russell appreciated the depth of that remark, but I believe Wittgenstein was absolutely serious. Indeed, for Wittgenstein, as a true Krausian, philosophy required an intensely personal, moral commitment.
Although he was the son of a wealthy aristocrat and could have avoided active military service, Wittgenstein enlisted in the Austrian army at the outbreak of World War I in the summer of 1914. He had already begun his first great work, the Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus, and he continued to work on the book throughout the war, even carrying the manuscript with him in his knapsack when he was finally transferred to the front, after repeated requests. At the end of the war, despite his wealth, connections, and status, Wittgenstein had no success in getting the book published. Thanks to the intervention of Russell, the book was finally published, first in German and then in an English translation with a German parallel text in 1922. Wittgenstein believed he had solved the problems of philosophy once and for all, so he promptly gave it up. He also gave away the immense fortune he had inherited at the death of his father and settled into a career as a grade school teacher in a remote Austrian village.
However, Wittgenstein eventually realized that his temperament and background left him ill-suited to the simple country life. The Tractatus came to be considered a philosophical classic, and intellectuals from Cambridge and Austria started to seek him out. Apparently he came to believe that he had not quite settled all the problems of philosophy. He was lured back to Cambridge in 1929. As it turned out he had completed the requirements for a PhD, except for a doctoral dissertation. He submitted the Tractatus. Moore and Russell conducted a brief oral examination. Wittgenstein brought the proceedings to a close by clapping each on the shoulder, saying “Don’t worry, I know you’ll never understand it.” Moore’s examiners report stated: “It is my personal opinion that Mr. Wittgenstein’s thesis is a work of Genius; but, be that as it may it is certainly well up to the standard required for the Cambridge degree of Doctor of Philosophy.” Soon Wittgenstein would begin his career as a teacher and eventually become the Cambridge Professor of Philosophy, which he would hold until his retirement in 1947. It was during this second tour at Cambridge that Wittgenstein developed the ideas that would become Philosophical Investigations.3
1. All quotes from the Tractatus are from:
Ludwig Wittgenstein, Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus, trans. D. F. Pears and B. F. McGuinness (New York: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1974). Each individual section of the Tractatus, hereafter TLP, has its unique identifying number. All quotes are referenced by this number.
All quotes from Philosophical Investigations are from:
Ludwig Wittgenstein, Philosophical Investigations, eds. Rush Rhees and G. E. M. Anscombe, trans. G. E. M. Anscombe (Oxford: Blackwell Publishers, 2001). This edition of Philosophical Investigations, hereafter PI, was issued as a fiftieth anniversary commemoration and includes the final revision of Ms. Anscombe’s translation. For references to part I of the Investigations this presents no problem, since each section has its own unique number. References to part II present a slight problem because we have to go by page number and the pagination in this edition differs from the previous editions. To solve this difficulty I have cross-referenced the earlier edition:
Ludwig Wittgenstein, Philosophical Investigations, eds. Rush Rhees and G. E. M. Anscombe, trans. G. E. M. Anscombe (Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice Hall, 1973).
References to page numbers have a “p.” (the “e” following the page number refers to the English translation, otherwise the number in a reference refers to an individual remark in part I.
2. The original name of the party was the Christian Social Association. When he took control of the party, Hitler styled it National Socialism. An excellent study of the topic is by Brigitte Hamann, Hitler’s Vienna: A Dictator’s Apprenticeship (Oxford University Press, 1999).
3. Several good biographies of Wittgenstein exist. Recommended are:
Ray Monk, Ludwig Wittgenstein: The Duty of Genius (New York: The Free Press, 1990).
Brian McGuinness, Young Ludwig: Wittgenstein’s Life 1889–1921 (Oxford University Press, 2005).
Norman Malcolm and G. H. von Wright, Ludwig Wittgenstein: A Memoir with a Biographical Sketch (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 2001).
Paul Engelmann, Letters from Ludwig Wittgenstein with a Memoir, ed. B. F. Mcguinness, trans. L. Furtmuller (New York: Horizon Press, 1968).
O. K. Bouwsma, Wittgenstein: Conversations 1949–1951, eds. J. L. Craft and Ronald E. Hustwit (Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Co., 1986). Not a biography but a good insight into Wittgenstein’s personality and certain ideas that occupied him during the last years of his life.
Also not strictly a biography but an excellent guide to the world in which Wittgenstein grew up:
Allan Janik and Stephen Toulmin, Wittgenstein’s Vienna (New York: Touchstone, 1973).