- Look at my new car! It’s beautiful, don’t you think?

- Well… Beauty is a subjective perception.

- Subjective perception? When you and I look at my car, do we perceive different things?

- Obviously.

- What do I perceive when I look at it and see it as beautiful?

- You perceive, for example, that it is new and shiny.

- Are you saying that “beautiful” means the same as “new and shiny”?

- No, of course not. Beautiful is beautiful and shiny is shiny. My point is this: When you say “It’s beautiful” you are really saying “I personally like it.”

- Really? Is “beautiful” the same as “I like it”? I personally like your car, I like the way it looks – wild and nasty and powerful, but it is really quite ugly.

- Alright, alright. So what is YOUR answer? What do you see in your new car?

- Beauty of course.

- Yes, yes, but what is beauty?

What kind of word is “beautiful”? An interjection.
Ludwig Wittgenstein (1889-1951) was an Austrian-born philosopher who wrote and taught mainly at Cambridge University in England. He was one of the most influential philosophers of the 20th century, who helped make philosophy of language central to the field. Wittgenstein was born in Vienna to a very rich family, mostly Jewish. As an Austrian soldier in World War I, he wrote his first book Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus, which he completed in prison camp. The very short book was published when he was 22-years-old, and made him famous in the field of philosophy. Afterwards he left academia and worked as a school-teacher in a remote Austrian village, and as a gardener. He returned in 1929 to Cambridge to develop a different kind of philosophical approach, often called his “later philosophy.” This included his famous book Philosophical Investigations (published after his death in 1953), as well as the text below.

The following passages are adapted from class-notes of students in a course given by Wittgenstein at Cambridge University in 1938 (published in English as Lectures and Conversations – on Aesthetics, Psychology and Religious Beliefs).
       For Wittgenstein, in order to understand the meaning of a word (such as “beautiful”), we need to examine how people use it in ordinary conversations. Every word is associated with typical gestures, facial expressions, behaviors, interactions, circumstances – or what Wittgenstein calls “a language-game.” Therefore, in order to understand what “beautiful” means, we need to understand the language-game around this word.
       The word “beautiful” is an adjective, but when we examine the language-game of this word we realize that people don’t use it to refer to a specific quality, like “square” or “red” of “big.” Wittgenstein argues that the word functions as an interjection similar to “Wow!” or “Great!”
       Wittgenstein also argues that the word “beautiful” is not very important in the language-game of aesthetic appreciation. When we evaluate a painting, or analyze a poem, or admire a dress – we don’t focus on “beauty” but rather on what is aesthetically correct or accurate.
 

1. The subject of Aesthetics is very big and entirely misunderstood, as far as I can see. The use of words such as “beautiful” is more likely to be misunderstood than the use of most other words, if you look at the linguistic form of the sentences in which they occur. “Beautiful” is an adjective, so you are inclined to say: “This thing has a certain quality, the quality of being beautiful.”
 

  
4. I have often compared language to a tool-box, containing a hammer, a chisel, matches, nails, screws, glue. It is not by chance that all these things have been put together – but there are important differences between the different tools – they are used in a family of ways – although nothing could be more different than glue and a chisel. There is a constant surprise at the new tricks which language plays on us when we get into a new field.
 
5. […] If you ask yourself how a child learns the words “beautiful,” “fine,” etc., you will find that he learns them roughly as interjections. (“Beautiful” is an odd word to talk about because it is hardly ever used.) […]

       What makes the word an interjection of approval? The game in which it appears, not the grammatical form of words. Language is part of a large group of activities – talking, writing, traveling on a bus, meeting a person, etc. We should concentrate not on the words “good” or “beautiful” themselves – they are not special at all, generally just subject and predicate (“This is beautiful”), but on the occasions on which they are said; on the enormously complicated situations in which the aesthetic expression has a place. And the expression itself has almost a negligible place.
 
7. A characteristic thing about our language is that a large number of words which are used in aesthetic contexts are adjectives – “fine,” “lovely,” etc. But you see that this is by no means necessary. You saw that they were first used as interjections. Would it matter if instead of saying “This is lovely!” I just said “Ah!” and smiled, or just rubbed my stomach?
 
8. It is remarkable that in real life, when typical judgements are made, aesthetic adjectives such as “beautiful” or “fine” play almost no role at all. Are aesthetic adjectives used in a musical criticism? You say: “Look at this transition,” or: “The passage here is incoherent.” Or you say in poetical criticism: “His use of images is precise.” The words you use are more similar to “right” and “correct” than to “beautiful” and “lovely.”
 
13. What does a person say when trying on a suit at a tailor’s shop? “That’s the right length,” “That’s too sort,” “That’s too narrow.” Words of approval play no role, although he will look satisfied when the coat suits him. Instead of “That’s too short” I might say, “Look!” Or, instead of “Right” I might say “Leave it as it is.” A good tailor may not use any words at all, but he may make a chalk mark and later change it. How do I show my approval of a suit? Mainly by wearing it often, liking it when I see it, etc.
 
35. In order to get clear about aesthetic words, you have to describe ways of living. We think that we have to talk about aesthetic judgement like “This is beautiful,” but in aesthetic judgment we don’t find these words at all. These words are used like a gesture, accompanying a complicated activity.
 

Beauty elevates us towards harmony
Friedrich Schiller (1759-1805) was a German writer in the areas of philosophy, history, poetry, and theatrical plays. At an early age he started writing plays, and eventually became one of the most important playwrights in German history. As a young man he studied medicine and became a military doctor in Stuttgart, but did not like this position and escaped to Weimar. He became a professor of philosophy and history in nearby Jena. Together with Goethe, he founded the influential Weimer Theater. He died at the age of 45 from tuberculosis. Schiller’s philosophical work is mainly about ethics, aesthetics, and human freedom. In his philosophy he often develops, in his own way, ideas that originate from Immanuel Kant.

The following passages are adapted from Schiller’s main philosophy book On the Aesthetic Education of Man (1794). This thin book is composed of 27 philosophical “letters” that are addressed to a fictional, anonymous reader. The central idea is that beauty can touch us and elevate us towards harmony.
       The sense of Beauty, according to Schiller, is based on two impulses (instincts, drives) which move us: the “sensuous” impulse that relates us to physical reality and physical pleasure, and the “formal” impulse that relates us to the intellectual, rational, spiritual, abstract. Beauty creates an equilibrium between the two impulses. It thus creates harmony within us, and this gives us a sense of play, or playfulness, which means freedom, enthusiasm, and happiness. Furthermore, unlike personal tastes which differ from one person to another, ideal beauty is one, and it therefore unifies society and makes it harmonious.
 

From LETTER 12
Two opposite forces drive us, and since they drive us towards their object, they are appropriately called “impulses.” The first impulse, which I will call the sensuous, comes from the person’s physical existence, or from his sensuous nature. It tends to enclose him within the domain of time, and to make him a material being. […]
        The second impulse, which we may call the formal impulse, comes from the person’s absolute existence, or from his rational nature. It tends to liberate his nature, to bring harmony into its many manifestations, and to maintain a stable identity throughout changes.

From LETTER 15
The object of the sensual impulse may be called “life” in the widest sense of the word. This concept refers to all material beings and everything that is immediately present to the senses. The object of the formal impulse may be called “form,” both in the figurative and the literal sense. This concept includes all the formal qualities of things, and all their relations to the intellectual faculties.
        The object of the play impulse (which unifies the impulse of sensual matter and the impulse of form), can therefore be called living shape. This concept denotes all the aesthetic qualities of phenomena, which is what we call Beauty in the broadest sense of the term.

from LETTER 16
The interaction of the two opposing impulses, the association of the two opposing principles, is the origin of the beautiful, whose highest ideal is, therefore, the most perfect possible union and equilibrium between material reality and form. But this equilibrium always remains a mere idea which can never be completely achieved in actuality. In actuality, one element will always be dominant over the other, and the most that we can experience will be oscillation between the two principles, so that at one moment material reality is dominant, and at another moment form. The idea of beauty is something indivisible and unique, since only one single equilibrium can exist. But beauty in actual experience is always divided to two, since through oscillation the balance may be destroyed toward one side or the other.



from LETTER 18
Through beauty, the sensuous person is led to form and to thought. Through beauty, the spiritual person is brought back to matter, and he is restored to the world of the senses.

from LETTER 27
Although need may drive a person into society, and reason may give him social principles, only beauty can give him a social character. Only beauty brings harmony into society, because it establishes harmony in the individual. All other forms of perception divide a person, because they are exclusively based either on the sensuous, or on the intellectual part of his being. Only the perception of beauty makes him something whole, because it demands the cooperation of his two natures. All other forms of communication divide society, because they relate exclusively either to the individual’s private taste or private skills, and therefore to what distinguishes one person from another. Only the communication of the beautiful unites society, because it relates to what is common to all its members (which is the ideal unification of sensual matter and form). We enjoy the pleasures of the senses as individuals, but the nature of the human race that lives within us takes no part in these pleasures. Therefore, we cannot extend our sensuous pleasures into being universal, because we cannot make our own individuality universal. […] It is only beauty that we enjoy both as individuals and as representatives of the human race. […] Only beauty makes the whole world happy, and everyone forgets his limitations as long as he experiences beauty’s enchantment.

THE REVOLUTIONARY MESSAGE OF “PHILOSOPHICAL TOPICS"

by Ran Lahav

Agora’s “Philosophical Topics” is much more than a collection of useful philosophical texts. It is also a revolutionary statement – a statement which is at the heart of the philosophical practice movement. It says: For us, philosophical practitioners, the important treasures of the history of philosophy are not found in grand abstract theories, but in "small" passages on everyday situations.

For centuries, mainstream philosophy has revolved around remote issues of metaphysics and epistemology: What are the categories of space and time? How do I know that the world exists? In contrast, issues such as “What is friendship?” or “What does it mean to be authentic?” have been pushed to the periphery. The movement of philosophical practice is turning this picture upside down. It is turning the center into the periphery, and the periphery into the center.

For us, philosophical practitioners, Kant’s short text on friendship may be more valuable than his famous metaphysical discussions on the world-in-itself or the transcendental deduction. For us, Plato’s dialogue on love may be more important than his metaphysical speculations on the world of ideas. And Bertrand Russell’s book on happiness (which he did not intend for professional philosophers!) is of greater interest than his influential logical-analytic works.

Likewise, “minor” philosophers such as Miguel de Unamuno or Max Picard, who were always on the periphery of the philosophical world, are for us not less important than Aristotle or Descartes.

This is, then, the revolutionary message of philosophical practice which is expressed in Agora’s “Philosophical Topics.” It calls for an entirely new way of looking at the history of Western philosophy: The treasures of philosophy are found in obscure passages, in “unimportant” chapters, and in forgotten booklets which have been pushed aside by the “major” books of mainstream philosophy. These “major” works are indeed great, but like the books of Darwin or Freud, they are somebody else’s great texts, not ours.

WHAT IS BEAUTIFUL IN PHILOSOPHICAL PRACTICE?

by Carmen Zavala

When I am asked to think of a beautiful sight, most beautiful images that come to my mind are not related to philosophical practice. That´s alright because it is not the aim of philosophical practice to create beautiful sights or moments. Philosophical counseling, Socratic dialogue, philosophical contemplation have been focused on how we think, what we feel, our inner world. I rarely look at my inner self to admire its beauty. This might be so because, as Santayana suggests, I am more self-conscious and critical in relation to myself and I am more impulsive and susceptible in relation to others or to external events. The assumption is that we use the word beauty when we do not only feel pleasure in the presence of an object but when we are in a passionate mood.

Philosophical practice does not need to focus only on our self though. One of the original aims of philosophical practice used to be to bring philosophy to the people in the street. Why would anybody want to impose philosophy to the people of the street? There is no rational reason. We can give arguments for the advantages that philosophy can have for those who get involved in philosophy and for the rest of the world. I might agree with these arguments, but they do not necessarily make me get up and become engaged in trying to bring philosophy to the people. For that second “active” step, it requires some passion.

And in this passion there is beauty. It is a passion for the good. This is how philosophical practice can create beautiful moments: In the process of philosophizing, a person or a group suddenly understands something, becomes aware of a new idea, is inspired by a new insight. There is beauty in this moment.

We can experience such beautiful moments, when we reflect on different conceptions of beauty, of love, of time and the world – like those conceptions that are found in the philosophical texts that are selected on Agora. This beauty is visible to the passionate soul. Because there is beauty in reason and in a bright mind, or as Plotinus beautifully puts it: The Intellect and all that comes out of it reveal the beauty of the soul. And this intellect or soul can be best appreciated when we reflect on some topic philosophically in togetherness.