Peter Stiers’ “Logic and Value in Wittgenstein’s Philosophy” in Philosophical Investigations Volume 44, Issue 2 April 2021 Pages 119-150 is worth reading, although I don’t know how much of it I agree with.
Here’s the
abstract:
In Tractatus
Logico‐Philosophicus (TLP),
Wittgenstein gave ethics the same semantic status as logic. This paper first
investigates this claim from the perspective of Wittgenstein’s lifelong
semantic framework. This reveals that ethical sentences are meaningless
expressions, which can only be used to ostensively point out conditions of
meaningfulness. Secondly, the paper assesses the implications of this
conclusion for understanding the seven cryptic remarks on value and ethics in
TLP. Using the connection between will and value in TLP and will and sentence
interpretation in Philosophical Investigations, it is suggested
that Wittgenstein held lifelong views on value and ethics.
And
here are the parts that seem most questionable to me:
Asking
which ethical attitude is the right one makes no sense, because “we do not
know… how it would be determined, what sort of criteria would be used, and so
on.” [And now another quotation from Wittgenstein:] “[S]uppose I say Christian ethics is the
right one. Then I am making a judgment of value. It amounts to adopting Christian
ethics. It is not like saying that one of these physical theories must be the
right one. The way in which some reality corresponds — or conflicts — with a
physical theory has no counterpart here.” (pp. 123-124)
If
saying that Christian ethics “is the right one” makes sense, which I take
Wittgenstein to imply here, then surely it makes sense to ask which ethical
attitude is the right one? It would not make the same kind of sense that it makes to ask which physical theory
is right, for instance, but that doesn’t make it nonsense. Say I am telling
students about various ethical attitudes, views, and theories, and one of them
asks me which one is right. They might
be confused, but they might not be. They might mean: “which one do you live
by?” And then I might name any of them and make perfectly good sense.
To be
fair to Stiers, on p. 124 he says only that “in a way [my emphasis], it makes no sense to ask whether” an
ethical sentence is true or false, right or wrong. Which is what I think he
should have said all along.
Here's more:
Now
suppose that Wittgenstein, when confronted for telling a preposterous lie,
would similarly respond that he knows he behaved badly but did not want to
behave any better. In such case, we would admonish him by saying, “you ought to
want to behave better.” The analogy of the circumstance of this utterance to
Moore’s insistence that his hands exist or to the chess player's holding up the
rook is clear: it is an ostensive pointing out of the rules of the game. This
demonstrates that ethical utterances do have a use and, thus, are part of the
practice in which language has its place. Like logical sentences, they are not
nonsensical because they have an unequivocal interpretation in the context of
the language‐game to which they belong.
(p. 128)
I think
it’s fair to wonder here what counts as an ethical utterance. Such utterances are supposed
to have a use in a practice, so that saying something like “You should not lie”
is reminding someone of the rules of the game. I think this is one use of
sentences like that.
But
what about “Abortion is wrong” or “Abortion is not always wrong”? A person
might say either of these as a reminder to someone of what they already
believe. But that is not the only use these sentences can have. They can also
be used as part of an attempt to change someone else’s mind. Or (probably in modified form) as slogans
chanted by a group whose identity is defined partly by its stance on abortion.
Or, no doubt, in other ways too (as examples in a blog post, say).
And
then there are similar-looking sentences that aren’t a reminder of anything,
such as “In this paper I shall argue that robots have moral rights.” Even if
one agrees with this thesis, it isn’t part of a practice (except the practice
of doing applied ethics). The kind of robot that might be thought to have rights either doesn't exist yet or doesn't play a big enough part in enough people's lives for there to be a practice of recognizing their rights. But I wouldn’t call the thesis statement about robots' rights nonsense for this reason.
Stiers again:
“we
cannot understand someone who does not subscribe to the truth of these ethical
sentences.” (p. 129)
I think
this is probably true of certain ethical utterances. If someone said that
murder is OK I would wonder what they meant. But students have a tendency to
say things like “Technically murder can be right” when they mean that war or
capital punishment can be justified. So I wouldn’t rush to call even the claim
that “murder is OK” nonsense without some further clarification.
And surely we can understand people who disagree with us on
abortion or robot rights, even if we don’t always do so. A nice example of this
kind of thing is Brandon Boulware on coming to accept his daughter’s
being trans:
He certainly seems as though he can understand people who don’t share his view. (Which is not to claim, of course, that he can understand all of them. Some of them might have very different views or ways of viewing things.)
Last one:
Just as the logical insight inherent in a tautology is recognized by
someone who knows language, the ethical aspect in ostensively uttered ethical
propositions is recognized by someone who already has these practical insights.
Thus, ethics, as well as logic, is ineffable. Moreover, all “moral” discussions
must be of the form of an ostensive collision between forms of life. (p. 132)
I think
I want to question the word ‘already’ here. Say I am witnessing an event where
pro-choice and pro-life protestors are waving signs and shouting slogans.
Imagine I am undecided about the ethics of abortion, or pro-life but with some
doubts. Now someone shouts “A woman has the right to control her own body!” And
I think, “You know what? That’s right! She does.”
I doubt
this happens often, but doesn’t it seem possible? The pro-choice way of framing
the issue invites me to see it a certain way, and when I try out this way of
looking at it, suddenly I seem to see clearly. (It could go the other way, too,
of course, with the pro-life view, or a
pro-life view, seeming to make sense of the whole issue to someone.)
I’m not sure I would call this a collision of forms of life. But perhaps it’s good to think of the abortion debate as a struggle within our form of life.
