John Cleese & Jonathan Miller Turn Profs Talking About Wittgenstein Into a Classic Comedy Routine (1977)

Every­one inter­est­ed in phi­los­o­phy must occa­sion­al­ly face the ques­tion of how, exact­ly, to define phi­los­o­phy itself. You can always label as phi­los­o­phy what­ev­er philoso­phers do — but what, exact­ly, do philoso­phers do? Here the Eng­lish come­di­ans John Cleese of Mon­ty Python and Jonathan Miller of Beyond the Fringe offer an inter­pre­ta­tion of the life of mod­ern philoso­phers in the form of a five-minute sketch set in “a senior com­mon room some­where in Oxford (or Cam­bridge).”

There, Cleese and Miller’s philoso­phers have a wide-rang­ing talk about Lud­wig Wittgen­stein, sens­es of the word “yes,” whether an “unfetched slab” can be said to exist, and the very role of the philoso­pher in this “het­ero­ge­neous, con­fus­ing, and con­fused jum­ble of polit­i­cal, social, and eco­nom­ic rela­tions we call soci­ety.” They come to the ten­ta­tive con­clu­sion that, just as oth­ers dri­ve bus­es or chop down trees, philoso­phers “play lan­guage games” — or per­haps “games at lan­guage” — “in order to find out what game it is that we are play­ing.”

As inten­tion­al­ly ridicu­lous as that expla­na­tion may sound, it would­n’t come across as espe­cial­ly out­landish in many phi­los­o­phy-depart­ment com­mon rooms today. Cleese and Miller, no strangers to play­ing their own kinds of lan­guage games, get laughs not so much from mock­ing the non­sen­si­cal com­plex­i­ties of phi­los­o­phy — and indeed, most of their lines make per­fect sense on one lev­el or anoth­er — as they do from so vivid­ly express­ing the dis­tinc­tive man­ner of the “Oxbridge Philoso­pher” char­ac­ters they por­tray. It has every­thing to do with man­ner, both ver­bal and phys­i­cal, tak­en to as absurd an extreme as their lines of think­ing.

Cleese and Miller’s ver­sion of the Oxbridge Philoso­pher sketch here comes from the 1977 Amnesty Inter­na­tion­al ben­e­fit show and tele­vi­sion spe­cial An Evening With­out Sir Bernard Miles (also known as The Mer­maid Frol­ics), but oth­ers exist. It goes at least as far back as Beyond the Fringe’s days pio­neer­ing their huge­ly influ­en­tial brand of British satire on the stage in the 1960s; their ear­li­er per­for­mance just above fea­tures Miller and fel­low troupe mem­ber Alan Ben­nett. It can still make us laugh today, but we might well won­der whether any­one in the his­to­ry of human­i­ty has ever real­ly sound­ed like this — in which case, we should watch footage of real-life Oxford philoso­phers back in those days and judge for our­selves.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Mon­ty Python Sings “The Philosopher’s Song,” Reveal­ing the Drink­ing Habits of Great Euro­pean Thinkers

Mon­ty Python’s Philosopher’s Foot­ball Match: The Epic Show­down Between the Greeks & Ger­mans (1972)

John Cleese Touts the Val­ue of Phi­los­o­phy in 22 Pub­lic Ser­vice Announce­ments for the Amer­i­can Philo­soph­i­cal Asso­ci­a­tion

Athe­ism: A Rough His­to­ry of Dis­be­lief, with Jonathan Miller

The Mod­ern-Day Philoso­phers Pod­cast: Where Come­di­ans Like Carl Rein­er & Artie Lange Dis­cuss Schopen­hauer & Mai­monides

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

The Sights & Sounds of 18th Century Paris Get Recreated with 3D Audio and Animation

In what is often called the “Ear­ly Mod­ern” peri­od, or the “Long Eigh­teenth Cen­tu­ry,” Europe wit­nessed an explo­sion of satire, not only as a polit­i­cal and lit­er­ary weapon, but as a means of react­ing to a whole new way of life that arose in the cities—principally Lon­don and Paris—as a dis­placed rur­al pop­u­la­tion and expand­ing bour­geoisie rad­i­cal­ly altered the char­ac­ter of urban life. In Eng­land, poets like Alexan­der Pope and Jonathan Swift sav­aged their rivals in print, while also com­ment­ing on the increas­ing pace and declin­ing tastes of the city.

In France, Voltaire punched up, using his pen to nee­dle Parisian author­i­ties, serv­ing 11 months in the Bastille for a satir­i­cal verse accus­ing the Regent of incest. Despite the huge­ly suc­cess­ful pre­miere of his play Oedi­pus sev­en months after his release, Voltaire would ulti­mate­ly be exiled from his beloved city for 28 years, return­ing in 1778 at the age of 83.

Now, of course, Parisians cel­e­brate Voltaire in every pos­si­ble way, but what would it have been like to have expe­ri­enced the city dur­ing his life­time, when it became the buzzing cen­ter of Euro­pean intel­lec­tu­al life? In the video recre­ation above, we can par­tial­ly answer that ques­tion by expe­ri­enc­ing what 18th cen­tu­ry Paris may have looked and sound­ed like, accord­ing to musi­col­o­gist Mylène Par­doen, who designed this “his­tor­i­cal audio recon­sti­tu­tion,” writes CNRS News, with a “team of his­to­ri­ans, soci­ol­o­gists and spe­cial­ists in 3D rep­re­sen­ta­tions.”

The team chose to ani­mate “the Grand Châtelet dis­trict, between the Pont au Change and Pont Notre Dame bridges” because, Par­doen explains, the neigh­bor­hood “con­cen­trates 80% of the back­ground and sound envi­ron­ments of Paris in that era, whether through famil­iar trades—shopkeepers, crafts­men, boat­men, wash­er­women on the banks of the Seine… or the diver­si­ty of acoustic pos­si­bil­i­ties, like the echo heard under a bridge or in a cov­ered pas­sage­way.” The result is “the first 3D recon­struc­tion based sole­ly on a son­ic back­ground.”

“We are the whipped cream of Europe,” Voltaire once said of his Paris, a lux­u­ri­ous, aris­to­crat­ic world. But 18th cen­tu­ry Paris was also a grimy city full of ordi­nary labor­ers and mer­chants, of “cesspools and kennels”—as a com­men­tary on Dick­ens’ A Tale of Two Cities notes—and of wine-stained streets with­out prop­er drainage. And it was a city on the verge of a rev­o­lu­tion from below, inspired by icon­o­clasts from above like Voltaire. In the 3D video and audio recre­ation above, we get a small, video-game-like taste of a bustling city caught between immense lux­u­ry and crush­ing pover­ty, between medieval the­ol­o­gy and human­ist phi­los­o­phy, and between the rule of divine kings and a bloody sec­u­lar rev­o­lu­tion to come.

We start­ed the video above at the 2:06 mark when the ani­ma­tions kick in. Feel free to start the video from the very begin­ning.

via @WFMU/CNRS News

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Fly Through 17th-Cen­tu­ry London’s Grit­ty Streets with Prize-Win­ning Ani­ma­tions

Beau­ti­ful, Col­or Pho­tographs of Paris Tak­en 100 Years Ago—at the Begin­ning of World War I & the End of La Belle Époque

What Makes Paris Look Like Paris? A Cre­ative Use of Google Street View

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

An Animated Introduction to French Philosopher Jacques Derrida

Since the bold arrival of his book Of Gram­ma­tol­ogy in 1967, French philoso­pher Jacques Der­ri­da has been understood—or misunderstood—as many things: a rad­i­cal rel­a­tivist who ”rejects all of meta­phys­i­cal his­to­ry,” a fash­ion­able intel­lec­tu­al play­ing lan­guage games, a bril­liant phe­nom­e­nol­o­gist of lan­guage…. One asso­ci­a­tion he vehe­ment­ly reject­ed was with the kind of iron­ic, lais­sez faire post­mod­ernism rep­re­sent­ed by Sein­feld. But when it came to clar­i­fy­ing his work for puz­zled read­ers and onlook­ers, Der­ri­da could seem as will­ful­ly, frus­trat­ing­ly eva­sive in per­son as he was on the page. His work, writes Williams Col­lege pro­fes­sor Mark C. Tay­lor, can “seem hope­less­ly obscure… to peo­ple addict­ed to sound bites and overnight polls.”

Most peo­ple famil­iar with some of Derrida’s work know a few key terms of his thought: dif­fĂ©rance, trace, apo­r­ia, phar­makon. Those who’ve only heard the name prob­a­bly know only one: Decon­struc­tion, a “way of doing phi­los­o­phy,” says Alain de Bot­ton in his video intro­duc­tion to Der­ri­da above, that “fun­da­men­tal­ly altered our under­stand­ing of many aca­d­e­m­ic fields, espe­cial­ly lit­er­ary stud­ies.” But what exact­ly is “Decon­struc­tion”? Rather than a method, Der­ri­da him­self described it as a process already occur­ring with­in a writ­ten work, one we can observe when we “do not assume that what is con­di­tioned by his­to­ry, insti­tu­tions, or soci­ety is nat­ur­al.” 

Derrida’s med­i­ta­tions on the inabil­i­ty of lan­guage to con­tain or com­mu­ni­cate nat­ur­al or meta­phys­i­cal truth devel­oped in unique life cir­cum­stances. Born into a Jew­ish fam­i­ly in French colo­nial Alge­ria in 1930, the philoso­pher grew up very con­scious of “hav­ing been in an infe­ri­or posi­tion at the nexus of three dif­fer­ent reli­gions, Judaism, Chris­tian­i­ty, and Islam, all of which claimed to speak the truth,” says de Bot­ton. Upon arriv­ing in Paris to study in 1949, Der­ri­da found him­self even fur­ther on the social mar­gins. “Though Der­ri­da was not an auto­bi­o­graph­i­cal writer, it’s hard not to read his work as a response to big­otry and exclu­sion.”

The claim that the philosopher—whose name has almost become syn­ony­mous with post-mod­ernism, for good or ill—was not an auto­bi­o­graph­i­cal writer may seem strange to some. One of his most-read books in col­lege cours­es, Mono­lin­gual­ism of the Oth­er, pro­ceeds from an inves­ti­ga­tion into his fraught rela­tion­ship with the French lan­guage because of his upbring­ing as a reli­gious minor­i­ty in a Euro­pean colony. Lat­er, Der­ri­da deliv­ered a ten-hour address to a con­fer­ence called The Auto­bi­o­graph­i­cal Ani­mal, pub­lished posthu­mous­ly (and excerpt­ed here).

Nonethe­less, Der­ri­da would not have made much of his place as the author, this being only a rhetor­i­cal occa­sion for analy­sis. Der­ri­da, writes Nazenin Ruso at Phi­los­o­phy Now, argued that “once the text is writ­ten, the author’s input los­es its sig­nif­i­cance.” The per­son of the author—his or her phys­i­cal pres­ence, bio­graph­i­cal expe­ri­ences, emo­tions, desires, and intentions—becomes irre­triev­able for read­ers, one of many absences in the text that we mis­take for pres­ence.

It’s hard to see, then, how we can speak of what Derrida’s “hope” was for his read­ers’ self-improve­ment, as de Bot­ton says in his video intro­duc­tion. This being the School of Life, we are treat­ed to a rather util­i­tar­i­an read­ing of the philoso­pher, one he would per­haps reject. But Der­ri­da bris­tled at the idea that lan­guage could suf­fice to tell us how and who to be in the world. His sus­pi­cion of logo­cen­trism, “an over-hasty, naĂŻve devo­tion to rea­son, log­ic, and clear def­i­n­i­tion,” says de Bot­ton, means he felt that “many of the most impor­tant things we feel can nev­er be expressed in words.” To hear Der­ri­da talk about the prob­lem of priv­i­leg­ing lan­guage over oth­er means of expres­sion with an artist who unique­ly agreed with his posi­tion, read his inter­view with jazz great Ornette Cole­man.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

140 Free Online Phi­los­o­phy Cours­es

Phi­los­o­phy with a South­ern Drawl: Rick Rod­er­ick Teach­es Der­ri­da, Fou­cault, Sartre and Oth­ers

Jacques Der­ri­da on Sein­feld: “Decon­struc­tion Doesn’t Pro­duce Any Sit­com”

Philoso­pher Jacques Der­ri­da Inter­views Jazz Leg­end Ornette Cole­man: Talk Impro­vi­sa­tion, Lan­guage & Racism (1997)

Teacher Calls Jacques Derrida’s Col­lege Admis­sion Essay on Shake­speare “Quite Incom­pre­hen­si­ble” (1951)

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

 

The Philosophy of Bruce Lee Gets Explored in a New Podcast

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Years ago, we fea­tured a won­der­ful clip show­ing Bruce Lee, only 24 years old, audi­tion­ing for a part in the 1960s TV show, “The Green Hor­net.” In the clip, Lee puts on a remark­able dis­play of his mar­tial arts skills, all while explain­ing the phi­los­o­phy that guides his moves. The actor, who stud­ied phi­los­o­phy in col­lege, looks at the cam­era and explains the rela­tion­ship between kung fu and a glass of water. He says: “water is the soft­est sub­stance in the world,… but yet it can pen­e­trate the hard­est rock or any­thing, gran­ite, you name it. So, every kung fu man is try­ing to do that,… to be soft like water, and flex­i­ble and adapt itself to the oppo­nent.”

That’s a good prompt to tell you about the brand new pod­cast that explores the phi­los­o­phy of Bruce Lee, who died in 1973. Launched by his daugh­ter Shan­non Lee, each episode promis­es to “dig deep into Bruce’s phi­los­o­phy to pro­vide guid­ance and action on cul­ti­vat­ing your truest self.” As the pod­cast moves along, it will help you find wis­dom in Lee’s pro­nounce­ments, like: “Emp­ty your mind, be form­less, shape­less like water. Now you put water into a cup, it becomes the cup, you put water into a bot­tle, it becomes the bot­tle, you put it in a teapot, it becomes the teapot. Now water can flow or it can crash. Be water, my friend.” By now, you’re start­ing to see, Lee had a thing for water.

You can get the pod­cast via iTunes and Stitch­er. Below, stream one of the first episodes that delves into his phi­los­o­phy.

Relat­ed Con­tent

Bruce Lee Audi­tions for The Green Hor­net (1964)

Watch 10-Year-Old Bruce Lee in His First Star­ring Role (1950)

Bruce Lee’s Only Sur­viv­ing TV Inter­view, 1971: Lost and Now Found

Kung Fu & Mar­tial Arts Movies Online

Simone de Beauvoir Defends Existentialism & Her Feminist Masterpiece, The Second Sex, in Rare 1959 TV Interview

Giv­en how many aca­d­e­m­ic phi­los­o­phy depart­ments have ban­ished Exis­ten­tial­ism into some prim­i­tive wilder­ness, it seems strik­ing to hear peo­ple talk about it as a cur­rent phe­nom­e­non with a seri­ous, liv­ing pedi­gree and a hip youth van­guard dis­till­ing its ideas into pop cul­ture. By the time I’d heard of Albert Camus—by way of The Cure’s ear­ly sin­gle “Killing an Arab”—the ref­er­ences to the French philoso­pher and his nov­el The Stranger were already exot­ic, and as kitschy as the faux-Mid­dle East­ern gui­tar line in the song. But in 1959, the hip­ster exis­ten­tial­ist was a phe­nom­e­non so wide­spread that Nor­man Mail­er wrote a scathing essay about the char­ac­ter.

And a Cana­di­an jour­nal­ist, sit­ting down to inter­view Exis­ten­tial­ist philoso­pher Simone de Beau­voir, began by ask­ing her to com­ment on the “group of noisy, row­dy jazz-lov­ing young peo­ple, in the imme­di­ate post-war peri­od.” This first wave of 50s Parisian hip­sters embraced Sartre, Camus, and Beau­voir right along with Coltrane and Char­lie Park­er.

Beau­voir dis­miss­es any con­nec­tion between her kind of Exis­ten­tial­ism and that of the row­dy mass­es except that of phys­i­cal prox­im­i­ty. Nonethe­less, like 90s fem­i­nist punk rock­ers who spread the ideas of third wave fem­i­nism, the French and Amer­i­can Beats made Exis­ten­tial­ist phi­los­o­phy cool.

Beau­voir prefers to draw a clear bound­ary between her work and the next generation’s appro­pri­a­tion. By this time, both Sartre and Camus had dis­avowed the term Exis­ten­tial­ist and had a falling-out over Com­mu­nism. But Beau­voir uses the term and refers to a “We,” who “think—and it’s one of the most impor­tant points in existentialism—that man is the pur­pose of man, his own future, and the pur­pose of all his activ­i­ties.” She draws on stark bina­ry oppo­si­tions of “good” and “evil” to explain the “fun­da­men­tal basis of what you could call our ethics,” and yet, she says, “we don’t ask meta­phys­i­cal ques­tions.”

If it sounds like Beau­voir is sum­ma­riz­ing Sartre, that’s part of what’s going on. The inter­view­er keeps press­ing to under­stand the “exis­ten­tial­ist man’s con­cep­tion of the world.” She oblig­es, dis­cussing “Sartre­an Exis­ten­tial­ism” and his major work Being and Noth­ing­ness and enter­tain­ing vague ques­tions about athe­ism and pol­i­tics. Final­ly, around 12:15, they begin to talk about the book for which de Beau­voir is best known, The Sec­ond Sex, which would go on to inspire 60s fem­i­nists like Bet­ty Friedan, Glo­ria Steinem, and UK col­lec­tivist mag­a­zine Spare Rib.

Calm and mea­sured through­out the con­ver­sa­tion, Beau­voir defends her ideas, includ­ing the most provoca­tive, that, as the inter­view­er para­phras­es, “You don’t believe in the exis­tence of a fem­i­nine nature. You believe peo­ple are first human, before being male or female.” She makes it clear right away that her anti-gen­der essen­tial­ism has roots in an even more fun­da­men­tal, and very Exis­ten­tial­ist, skep­ti­cism: “I don’t believe in the exis­tence of a human nature.” All of us, what­ev­er gen­der we’re taught to iden­ti­fy with, become prod­ucts of our “place, time, civil­i­sa­tion, and tech­nique etc.” through cul­tur­al con­di­tion­ing, not inner neces­si­ty.

The Sec­ond Sex, she says, is not a revolt or a protest, but a descrip­tion of an oppres­sive set of rela­tions that “cur­rent­ly nei­ther men nor women can just trans­form… with a mag­ic wand.” Nev­er­the­less, de Beau­voir became increas­ing­ly activist as she aged, giv­ing the elo­quent inter­view on “Why I’m a Fem­i­nist” in 1975. And above all, the younger gen­er­a­tion who picked up piece­meal Sartre also picked up enough of Beauvoir’s work to begin forc­ing changes in the mate­r­i­al con­di­tions she iden­ti­fied as cre­at­ing gen­der-based forms of social oppres­sion.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Simone de Beau­voir Tells Studs Terkel How She Became an Intel­lec­tu­al and Fem­i­nist (1960)

Down­load All 239 Issues of Land­mark UK Fem­i­nist Mag­a­zine Spare Rib Free Online

11 Essen­tial Fem­i­nist Books: A New Read­ing List by The New York Pub­lic Library

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

 

Watch Hannah Arendt’s Diagnosis of the Banality of Evil as an 8‑Bit Video Game

Per­mit us a cou­ple of great over­sim­pli­fi­ca­tions: Han­nah Arendt became well-known by writ­ing about evil. Video games, espe­cial­ly clas­sic ones, usu­al­ly chal­lenge the play­er to fight some kind of evil. And so we have a suit­able, if at first seem­ing­ly incon­gru­ous, meet­ing of form and sub­stance in this video, â€śWhat is Evil?,” from the 8‑Bit Phi­los­o­phy series. It casts the 20th-cen­tu­ry polit­i­cal the­o­rist as the hero this time around, ren­der­ing in vin­tage video-game aes­thet­ics her quest not sim­ply to fight evil, but to iden­ti­fy evil — a much more trou­bling enter­prise.

“Tra­di­tion­al con­cep­tions of evil focus on the utter mon­stros­i­ty of evil actions — the com­plete awe and unthink­a­bil­i­ty of hor­ror,” says the nar­ra­tor. “Called pure or rad­i­cal evil, this is the sort of evil asso­ci­at­ed with antag­o­nists or vil­lains — is is the antithe­sis of good.”

It also hap­pens to be just the sort of obvi­ous straight-up evil video games tend to put their play­ers up against: ene­my ships you can only shoot down before they shoot you down, mad doc­tors you can only blow up before they blow the world up, mon­sters you can can only jump on before they eat you.

Arendt start­ed see­ing things dif­fer­ent­ly from this black-and-white (or in the case of eight-bit video games, 64-col­or) con­cep­tion after she saw the tri­al of Adolf Eich­mann. “Put on tri­al for numer­ous hor­rors, Eich­mann was found guilty of crimes against human­i­ty — espe­cial­ly against the Jew­ish peo­ple, for over­see­ing the trains that trans­port­ed peo­ple to Nazi death camps.” Sound like a mean piece of work though the guy may, Arendt beheld in the court­room “an alto­geth­er innocu­ous and seem­ing­ly nor­mal lit­tle man,” a “stereo­typ­i­cal bureau­crat” who “nev­er stopped to put him­self in any­one else’s shoes,” dri­ven by an “unques­tion­ing sense of oblig­a­tion to author­i­ty.”

To put it in video-game terms, Arendt expect­ed the sort of grotesque, cack­ling big boss that appears in the last stage, and she got the kind of drone who sim­ply stands around wait­ing to be slain with one hit in the first. This led her to coin her immor­tal phrase “the banal­i­ty of evil,” which, she explains in Eich­mann in Jerusalem, describes it “only on the strict­ly fac­tu­al lev­el. He was not stu­pid. It was thought­less­ness, some­thing by no means iden­ti­cal to stu­pid­i­ty. Such remote­ness from real­i­ty can wreak more hav­oc than all the instincts tak­en togeth­er.” And what kind of sword, laser, or pow­er-up could defeat that?

Relat­ed Con­tent:

A Look Inside Han­nah Arendt’s Per­son­al Library: Down­load Mar­gin­a­lia from 90 Books (Hei­deg­ger, Kant, Marx & More)

Enter the Han­nah Arendt Archives & Dis­cov­er Rare Audio Lec­tures, Man­u­scripts, Mar­gin­a­lia, Let­ters, Post­cards & More

Han­nah Arendt Dis­cuss­es Phi­los­o­phy, Pol­i­tics & Eich­mann in Rare 1964 TV Inter­view

Han­nah Arendt’s Orig­i­nal Arti­cles on “the Banal­i­ty of Evil” in the New York­er Archive

8‑Bit Phi­los­o­phy: Pla­to, Sartre, Der­ri­da & Oth­er Thinkers Explained With Vin­tage Video Games

Exis­ten­tial Phi­los­o­phy of Kierkegaard, Sartre, Camus Explained with 8‑Bit Video Games

Based in Seoul, Col­in Mar­shall writes and broad­casts on cities and cul­ture. He’s at work on a book about Los Ange­les, A Los Ange­les Primer, the video series The City in Cin­e­ma, the crowd­fund­ed jour­nal­ism project Where Is the City of the Future?, and the Los Ange­les Review of Books’ Korea Blog. Fol­low him on Twit­ter at @colinmarshall or on Face­book.

Hear Wittgenstein’s Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus Sung as a One-Woman Opera

wittgenstein opera2

Image by Aus­tri­an Nation­al Library, via Wiki­me­dia Com­mons

What is it about Aus­tri­an philo­soph­i­cal prodi­gy Lud­wig Wittgen­stein’s Trac­ta­tus Logi­co-Philo­soph­i­cus that so inspires artists? Jasper Johns, the Coen Broth­ers, Derek Jar­man…. Per­haps it’s easy to see his appeal to writ­ers. His suc­cinct phi­los­o­phy of lan­guage con­tains a ground­break­ing claim, for its time, wrote Bertrand Rus­sell in his 1922 intro­duc­tion: “In order that a cer­tain sen­tence should assert a cer­tain fact there must… be some­thing in com­mon between the struc­ture of the sen­tence and the struc­ture of the fact.”

There may be no high­er praise for care­ful, pre­cise lan­guage. Recall­ing the stock advice to “show, don’t tell,” Wittgen­stein assert­ed that what­ev­er bonds togeth­er the struc­ture of sen­tences and the struc­ture of the world, it is only some­thing we can show, not some­thing we can say. In this regard, Wittgen­stein also ele­vat­ed images, and he him­self had a keen eye for pho­tog­ra­phy and archi­tec­ture. Of course, the imag­i­na­tive, mys­ti­cal aspect of Wittgenstein’s lit­tle book of apho­risms and sym­bols appeals to musi­cians and com­posers as well.

John Cage drew heav­i­ly on Wittgenstein’s work and the Trac­ta­tus has been adapt­ed by oth­ers in musi­cal pieces rang­ing from the under­stat­ed and med­i­ta­tive to the com­i­cal­ly ridicu­lous. The adap­ta­tion above takes a stark oper­at­ic approach. Com­posed by Bal­duin Sulz­er, the “one woman opera,” as the singer Anna Maria Pammer’s site describes it (in Google trans­la­tion from Ger­man), “dri­ves the metic­u­lous­ness and insis­tence of the text on the top.” Draw­ing on the work of the Sec­ond Vien­nese School, “the basic musi­cal idea comes from the music of the time of ori­gin of the Trac­ta­tus, i.e. the time of World War I.”

Wittgen­stein has long been asso­ci­at­ed with Arnold Schoen­berg and the Trac­ta­tus has been called a “tone poem.” The chill­i­ness, alter­nat­ing with rapid crescen­dos, with which Pam­mer deliv­ers the philo­soph­i­cal libret­to recalls the book’s tenor, as well as Wittgenstein’s tem­pera­ment more gen­er­al­ly. Giv­en to vio­lent out­bursts and fits of deri­sion, Wittgen­stein spent the first part of his life attempt­ing to cre­ate per­fect sys­tems— “a log­i­cal­ly per­fect lan­guage,” wrote Rus­sell. In between this aus­tere pur­suit, he lived just as aus­tere­ly and some­times vio­lent­ly. John Cage’s enact­ment of Wittgenstein’s the­o­ries comes clos­er to the intent of “show don’t tell,” but Sulzer’s adap­ta­tion per­haps best dra­ma­tizes the mys­ti­cal ellipses of Wittgenstein’s first major work. If you need Spo­ti­fy’s free soft­ware, down­load it here.

Relat­ed Con­tent:

Wittgenstein’s Mas­ter­piece, the Trac­ta­tus Logi­co-Philo­soph­i­cus, Gets Turned into Beau­ti­ful, Med­i­ta­tive Music

Lud­wig Wittgenstein’s Trac­ta­tus Gets Adapt­ed Into an Avant-Garde Com­ic Opera

In Search of Lud­wig Wittgenstein’s Seclud­ed Hut in Nor­way: A Short Trav­el Film

The Pho­tog­ra­phy of Lud­wig Wittgen­stein

Free Online Phi­los­o­phy Cours­es

Down­load 135 Free Phi­los­o­phy eBooks: From Aris­to­tle to Niet­zsche & Wittgen­stein

Josh Jones is a writer and musi­cian based in Durham, NC. Fol­low him at @jdmagness

The Entire Discipline of Philosophy Visualized with Mapping Software: See All of the Complex Networks

philosophy tax 3

Dai­ly Nous, a web­site about phi­los­o­phy and the phi­los­o­phy pro­fes­sion, recent­ly fea­tured a detailed map­ping of the entire dis­ci­pline of phi­los­o­phy, cre­at­ed by an enter­pris­ing French grad stu­dent, Valentin Lageard. Draw­ing on a tax­on­o­my pro­vid­ed by PhilPa­pers, Lageard used Net­workX (a Python soft­ware pack­age that lets you study the struc­ture and dynam­ics of com­plex net­works) to map out the major fields of phi­los­o­phy, and show how they relate to var­i­ous sub-fields and even sub-sub-fields. The image above shows the com­plete map, reveal­ing the aston­ish­ing size of phi­los­o­phy as an over­all field. The images below let you see what hap­pens when you zoom in and move down to dif­fer­ent lev­els.

philosophy taxonomy 2

To explore the map, head over to Dai­ly Nous–or open this image, click on it, wait for it to expand (it takes a sec­ond), and then start maneu­ver­ing through the net­works.

If you’re inter­est­ed in see­ing phi­los­o­phy dia­grammed from anoth­er point of view, check out this post in our archive: The His­to­ry of Phi­los­o­phy, from 600 B.C.E. to 1935, Visu­al­ized in Two Mas­sive, 44-Foot High Dia­grams.

philos tax 4

via Dai­ly Nous

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Relat­ed Con­tent:

The His­to­ry of Phi­los­o­phy Visu­al­ized

Free Online Phi­los­o­phy Cours­es

Leo Strauss: 15 Polit­i­cal Phi­los­o­phy Cours­es Online

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