Richard Eldridge

BY THE middle of the nineteenth century, serious difficulties in carrying out the Cartesian project of explaining through attention to our ideas how we may know things as they really are had become evident. A satisfactory account of the connection between occurrences of ideas in us and the properties of things apart from our ideas of them, an account promised by Descartes in the Meditations, had not been forthcoming. Descartes' claim that God's omnipotence guarantees that the members of some recognizable class of our ideas, the class of clear and distinct perceptions, represent things as they really are became clearly unsatisfactory as part of a realist theory of knowledge as soon as Hume and Kant had shown the unsoundness of Descartes' proofs of the existence of God. Whether or not God's omnipotence guarantees that we can know things as they are, it had become evident that we lack adequate grounds for claiming to know that this is the case. Consequently, there developed by the middle of the nineteenth century a consensus that we lacked a satisfactory account of how our ideas enable us to know things.

Stanley Cavell’s writing about movies, from the more theoretical and general The World Viewed (1971) to the later works on specific genres (Pursuits of Happiness, Contesting Tears), has a unifying theme: some movies as (successful) art investigate conditions of accomplished selfhood and interest in experience in medium-specific ways. This claim is explained and defended by explicating the details of the medium-specificity of the moving photographic image (and its history of uses) and by focusing on Michael Verhoeven’s film The Nasty Girl (1990). Though the very ideas of accomplished selfhood and interest in experience naturally prompt some suspicion in a commercialized, pluralistic society, our responses to some movies show that we continue to aspire to a life that embodies them

When we imagine, previsage, and remember, do we engage in activities through which our selfhood or personhood is expressed, developed, and understood? In contemporary philosophy, the answer to this question has almost always been "No." Sometimes the self is taken to be a complex biological thing. Generally it is then added that this biological thing engages in certain so-called mental activities. But then how these activities are engaged in is either to be explained physically or modeled in a computer program, so that selfhood is not expressed and understood through these activities, but simply instanced in them. Or sometimes the self is thought, as in Sartre's existentialism, to be completely unconditioned, able to make itself into anything as a result of utterly arbitrary choice. Or sometimes it is thought to be epiphenomenal or fictive--not either a physical or introspectible something, so not a something at all.

In this provocative new study, Richard Eldridge presents a highly original and compelling account of Wittgenstein's _Philosophical Investigations_, one of the most enduring yet enigmatic works of the twentieth century. He does so by reading the text as a dramatization of what is perhaps life's central motivating struggle—the inescapable human need to pursue an ideal of expressive freedom within the difficult terms set by culture. Eldridge sees Wittgenstein as a Romantic protagonist, engaged in an ongoing internal dialogue over the nature of intentional consciousness, ranging over ethics, aesthetics, and philosophy of mind. The picture of the human mind that emerges through this dialogue unsettles behaviorism, cognitivism, and all other scientifically oriented orthodoxies. Leading a human life becomes a creative act, akin to writing a poem, of continuously seeking to overcome both complacency and skepticism. Eldridge's careful reconstruction of the central motive of Wittgenstein's work will influence all subsequent scholarship on it.