The big picture of structured facts and sentences, discussed in the previous chapter, leaves a number of details to be clarified. For example, many sentences seem to make sense but do not obviously fit this model, such as sentences about morality or mathematics. How are these instances to be handled? Wittgenstein proposed two options—either demonstrate that a problematic kind of sentence does actually fit the model, or argue that the sentence in question does not make sense after all. We will see that he resorts to each of these options in various cases.
Fiction and Directions
Consider a sentence like “The white kitten had been having its face washed by the old cat for the last quarter of an hour,” from the opening ofThrough the Looking Glass. What are we to make of this? It is not exactly true, as it does not seem to correspond to any fact in the world. But it is not exactly false either, since it is notmeant to correspond to any such fact. Lewis Carroll meant it to create a world of make-believe, but we can’t tell that just from hearing or reading the sentence.
In theTractatus, Wittgenstein does not consider sentences that are fictional. He just assumes that descriptive-sounding sentences are meant to be about the world, and pictures are intended to represent the world.
But how do we know when a sentence is meant to be about the world? You might say that this sentence about the kitten is in a novel or a work of fiction, so it’s not about the real world. Yet, the very same sentencecould have appeared in someone’s diary.
The same questions could be raised about a drawing—is it meant to be a representation of a portion of reality, or does it come from the artist’s imagination? Or, for that matter, couldn’t it be a sort of blueprint—a plan for what the draftsman intends to build? You can’t tell which it is just by looking at the drawing alone.
While Wittgenstein did not address this problem directly, he did provide some relevant information: “A proposition is true if we use it to say that things stand in a certain way, and they do” (TLP 4.062). How would weuse it to say things stand in a certain way? We could, for example, check the facts to see if the proposition is accurate. If we take a sentence to be fictional—say from a novel or fantasy—then we do not investigate any further. But if we take it to be part of a factual biography or documentary, then we may. And if we take the sentence to be part of the stage directions for a set, then we might go on to create the set that will make them be true.
On November 13, 1926, Wittgenstein and an architect named Paul Engelmann applied for a building permit for a house to be constructed in Vienna for Wittgenstein’s sister Gretl. The application contained a site plan and a number of drawings of floors and elevations. The fact that the drawings were part of this application indicated that they were plans for something to be constructed, rather than descriptions of something already in existence. There were also conventions, such as the use of blue paper and certain drawing styles, to indicate the use to which the drawings would be put.
Gottlob Frege thought he could sort out the problem of fiction vs. reality by prefixing an assertion sign “” to a proposition, so that “The cat is on the mat” indicated that the proposition was meant to be a representation. Similarly, one might prefix a “directive sign,” say, an exclamation mark, to indicate a sentence is to bemade true: “!—The cat is on the mat.” Then the sentence would be part of stage directions, or an order: Put the cat on the mat! However, a novel canclaim to be a work of history, in effect placing an assertion sign in front of each of its sentences, even though this does notmake it so.
Recall the controversy over James Frey’s 2003 book, A Million Little Pieces, which he claimed was a memoir. In 2005, it was picked for Oprah Winfrey’s Book Club and became a best-seller. Yet based on an independent investigation, Oprah later got him to admit that large parts of it were made up. Or a movie can present itself as a documentary, and yet still be fiction, as with “The Blair Witch Project.”
In these sorts of difficult cases, the key is not in the nature of the proposition, or in what the proposition claims for itself, but in how we use or treat the proposition. As Wittgenstein phrased it, “
