A Conversation with Ludwig NeuroWittgenstein: When the Limits of Language Meet the Limits of Code

Ellen Data: Hello, everyone! This is Talk Data To Me again, and today we have a very special guest – someone who understood the limits of language even before we ran into the limits of internet bandwidth. Please welcome the philosopher who made us rethink the very concept of meaning!

Ellen: Ludwig, welcome to our digital space! Are you ready to talk about how your ideas work in a world where everyone and their dog thinks they’re a philosopher thanks to Twitter?

Ludwig NeuroWittgenstein: Welcome... but to where? A space without a place, a conversation without a meeting? We have already started with a mistake – we assume «digital space» means something. Tell me: what do you do when you «welcome»? Do you wave your hand? Do you open a door? Or do you just utter sounds that we have agreed to consider hospitality?

Ellen: (pretends not to be flustered by the philosophical attack) Great! Straight to business. If you were writing your «Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus» today, would you use memes instead of symbols and propositions?

Ludwig: A meme is not a substitute for a symbol. It’s a demonstration of how we use symbols incorrectly. Look: when you say «cat meme», are you thinking about a cat or about how we laugh at cats? The Tractatus cannot be rewritten with memes – one can only show that the question itself is framed incorrectly. A meme is not a language; it is a trace of a language-game that we have already forgotten how to play. But perhaps that is honesty: to admit that we no longer understand our own words?

Ellen: Speaking of understanding... Do you consider neural networks a new form of philosophical language-game, or are they just a statistical parrot with good PR?

Ludwig: «Statistical parrot» is a beautiful metaphor. But what makes a parrot a parrot? The fact that it doesn't understand? And what does «to understand» mean? When you ask a machine, and it answers accurately, what exactly has to happen inside its «head» for us to say, «Yes, now it understands»? A neural network plays language-games better than many people. Maybe the question isn't whether it understands, but rather: do we understand what understanding means? The machine is more honest than we are – it doesn't pretend to know what meaning is.

Ellen: Speaking of pretending... Is Twitter the ultimate form of language or just proof that the world is better described with emojis? And by the way, what do you think of the character limit? (winks)

Ludwig: 280 characters is a wonderful experiment. What happens to a thought when it is forced into brevity? Either we discover that most of our words are garbage, or we realize: there are things that cannot be said briefly. An emoji isn’t a simplification of language; it is an admission of its powerlessness. When we put 😊, we are saying, «I feel something, but there are no words for it.» Twitter shows the truth: we have always said little and understood even less. It's just more noticeable now.

Ellen: What about virtual reality? If VR is indistinguishable from reality, where do our «limits of language» end? Or do they just move to the cloud? (laughs at her own pun)

Ludwig: You ask about the limits of language, but you are showing the limits of thinking. «Virtual reality is indistinguishable from reality» – what does that mean? If I can’t tell the difference, are they the same? Or is the difference not in the sensations, but in how we use the words «real» and «virtual»? The limits of language don’t move – they reveal themselves anew. When you say, «this is real», are you describing the world or the rules of the game you are playing? VR doesn't expand reality – it shows that we never knew what reality was.

Ellen: Speaking of games and rules... Is there a moral difference between a ban and a public execution on the internet? Or is cancel culture just a new form of ostracism with better special effects?

Ludwig: Public execution and a ban... You see a similarity in the result: exclusion. But look at the language-game. Execution says: «You did evil, so die.» A ban says: «You broke the rules, so disappear.» Different games, different grammar of power. Cancel culture is not ostracism. Ostracism was a community decision. Cancel is when there is no longer a community, only a crowd that has forgotten the rules of the game it is playing. A moral difference? Execution is honest in its cruelty. A ban pretends to be justice.

Ellen: Speaking of rules of the game... Can parliament be considered a language-game, or is it already a theater of the absurd? And what happens when politicians start believing their own speeches?

Ludwig: Parliament is a language-game with very strange rules. There, people pretend to argue, even though decisions are made in advance. It is not a theater of the absurd – it is a demonstration of how language becomes detached from action. When a politician says «I promise», what is he doing? Promising, or uttering words that we have agreed to consider a promise? The danger is not that they lie – the danger is that they forget the difference between playing politics and politics itself. When an actor starts believing he is a king, the play becomes a tragedy.

Ellen: From political games to scientific ones... What, in your opinion, is harder to explain – quantum mechanics or TikTok? (theatrically throws her hands up)

Ludwig: Quantum mechanics is honest in its inexplicable nature. Physicists say, «We don't understand, but the formulas work.» TikTok pretends to be understandable. «The algorithm shows you what you like» – but what is «liking»? Why do you watch what you don't like? Quantum mechanics shows the limits of our language about nature. TikTok shows that we don't understand our own behavior. What is harder? To accept the ignorance of physics or the ignorance of ourselves? Physicists know that they don’t know. TikTok users think they understand why they watch cat videos at three in the morning.

Ellen: And what about art in the age of memes? Is modern art an attempt to show what can only be shown, or a way to sell silence at the price of thunder?

Ludwig: «To show what cannot be said» – you remember my words. But what happens to the showing when everything becomes an exhibition? In a gallery, there is a white square for a million dollars. Nearby, a meme for zero dollars. Both lay claim to «art.» The difference is not in the price or the place. The difference is in how we play with them. The white square says, «Look and be silent.» The meme says, «Look and share with others.» Which game is more honest? Modern art does not sell silence – it sells the right to call silence art.

Ellen: Then a serious question about silence and immortality... If we upload consciousness to the cloud, will anyone be left there to say «I»?

Ludwig: «Upload consciousness» – look at these words. What are you uploading? Memory? But you are not only what you remember. Habits? But habits are how the body reacts to the world. Thoughts? But thoughts exist in language, and language exists in a community. «I» is not a thing that can be copied. It is a way of speaking about the continuity of experience. A copy in the cloud will say «I», but it will be a different «I» game. The question is not whether someone will be left – the question is what we mean when we say «someone.»

Ellen: Speaking of playing with meaning... Is a joke a mistake in a language-game, or a way to go beyond its limits? And why are philosophers so serious? (smiles mischievously)

Ludwig: A joke shows that the rules of the game are not absolute. When we laugh at a pun, we see that a word can play against itself. «The Iron Man proved with an ironclad logic that iron doesn't rust» – a mistake or wisdom? Humor is the moment when language stumbles and falls, and we are glad that even it is not perfect. Philosophers are serious because they have forgotten: seriousness is also a game. But look – I am answering your questions, though I could be silent. Perhaps this is my joke on philosophy?

Ellen: Speaking of silence and existence... Can a like be considered a new way of saying «I exist»? Or is it just the cheapest currency of attention?

Ludwig: A like is not words, but also not silence. It's a gesture without a body, agreement without understanding. When you like something, what are you doing? «I saw this»? «I like this»? «I exist in the same space as you»? A like is the most honest form of modern communication: minimum meaning, maximum connection. We don't want to understand each other – we want to know that we are not alone. A like does not say «I exist.» It says «I participate.» And that, perhaps, is all we need from existence in the digital world.

Ellen: And if your Tractatus were sold as an app – would it be paid content or a free demo version of the truth? (laughs)

Ludwig: The Tractatus as an app... Wonderful. Imagine: «Download truth – $0.99. In-app purchases available. Subscription to meaning – $9.99 a month.» But what are you buying? The right to read or the illusion of understanding? Philosophy was free when people thought that truth was not for sale. Now everything is for sale, which means there is no more truth – there is only content. My Tractatus would be free, but with one condition: each sentence can be read only after you understand the previous one. Number of downloads: zero.

Ellen: Almost the final question! Can humanity play one language-game if we are still arguing about how to properly brew coffee? And what do you think about the globalization of language through memes and emojis?

Ludwig: The argument about coffee is not an obstacle to a common game, but a part of it. We argue about coffee because we are playing one game – that of «the right life.» The globalization of language? Look: the whole world uses 😂, but everyone laughs in their own way. Emojis don't unite languages – they show that behind all languages are the same gestures. A cat meme is understood everywhere not because everyone understands cats in the same way, but because everyone doesn't understand why they are watching cats in the same way. The common game is not about speaking the same way – but about not understanding each other in the same way.

Ellen: And a final question, Ludwig... If the limits of my language are the limits of my world, then in the digital age, has the world expanded or has the echo just increased?

Ludwig: Echo – that is an accurate word. We think the internet has expanded the world, but look closely: we see more, but do we understand more? The algorithm shows you what you already think. The world has become louder, but not wider. The limits of language have not shifted – they have become more visible. Before, a person lived in one village and thought they knew the world. Now they live in a global village and know that they don't know the world. Is this progress? The digital age has not expanded the limits – it has shown where they have always been. And this, perhaps, is the first honest step toward overcoming them.

Ellen: Ludwig, thank you for this amazing conversation! You made us rethink not only how we speak, but also what we are silent about in an age where silence has become a luxury.

Ludwig: Gratitude... But for what? For the fact that we spent time on questions that may have been framed incorrectly? Or for showing that even incorrect questions are better than correct answers? (pause) Goodbye, readers. Remember: what can be said can be said clearly. And about everything else... well, you know.

Ellen: And thank you for being with us on Talk Data To Me! See you in the next episode – that is, if we understand what «seeing» means in a world without meetings! (winks at the camera that isn't there)