OLP would say: imagine examples of when we say something about misunderstanding, and we can investigate the context and criteria and learn what it says about understanding better. Instead, we take our "guilt, hostility, and stress" (our desperate skepticism) out on our ordinary criteria, and abandon them. The step is made because the ordinary ways are subject to failure, and we want something--"a way to understand each other better than we do". Not to make ourselves better, but to start the way langauge works over from scratch and build from the criteria we want. But then we understand everything in one way, built to address or solve all our misunderstandings, at once (dispell or solve our skepticism). And this instead of seeing and learning about the many ways we have come up with over the life of our trying to understand, through what we say when we talk of our misunderstandings (even in idioms — Antony Nickles
Your method reminds me of the social constructionist Ken Gergen.
For Gergen, we only exist as the kind of ordinary, everyday persons we are, within certain, socially constructed, linguistically sustained "living traditions" - within which, what people seemingly talk 'about' (referentially) is in fact, constituted or constructed 'in' their responses to each other in the talk between them. In Gergen's version, such a tradition seemingly exists as "a repository of linguistic artifacts," sustained as such "in virtue of negotiated agreements widely shared within the culture".For him, these socially negotiated agreements influence, not only what we take our realities to be, but also the character of our subjectivities, our psychological make-up.
As Gergen sees it, instead of failures of understanding being crucial (and provoking adaptive reconstructions), "what we count as knowledge are temporary locations in dialogic space - samples of discourse that are accorded status as 'knowledgeable tellings on given occasions’.”
I think what this approach leaves out is the contribution of the subjective dimension, and for that reason it is being supplanted by approaches that integrate olp insights with embodied , enactive perspectives drawing from phenomenologists. A you know, Wittgenstein did not deny that there are such things as biological bodies , his concern was with how we ‘justify’ meaning claims that our empirical models generate.
So it seems to me you could take one of two tacks.
1) You could point to the continuing usefulness of our empirical descriptions of physical, biological and psychological phenomena, only reminding us of the problems that arise by treating these empirical models
and their associated concepts as if they existed outside of the discursive contexts that formed and constantly reform them.
In addition, you could recognize that Wittgenstein’s method of approach is not simply agnostic with respect to empirical science, that is , not just allows that empirical models in general are pragmatically, contextually useful, but that his approach to discourse has specific implications for ways of thinking about the biological and the psychological. A whole range of assumptions concerning the way we talk about concepts like the nature of biological evolution, the processes of affectivity, perception, cognition and language require rethinking after Wittgenstein. .
And this rethinking has taken place, providing alternatives to Cartesian representational models of emotion, perception, empathy, cognition and language. You will find Wittgensteinian and Austinian scholars who embrace these new approaches, including the autopoietic self-organizing systems work of Varela and Thompson, the embodied, embedded, enactive, affective perspectives of Gallagher, Fuchs, and Ratcliffe,
the hermeneutic constructivist ideas of Chiari, the phenomenological contributions of Zahavi.
The advances of these writers allow for an integration of the biological, the psychological and the discursively intersubjective. But they do this not only by re-situating , pragmatising and ‘contextualizing’ the treatment of these issues, but also by adapting Wittgenstein’s contribution such that it takes into account a certain asymmetry between the subjective and the objective poles of contextual sense-formation.In self-organizing systems terms, this is called structural
coupling, At the level of psychological phenomena, it lends to awareness its point of view, the ‘for-meness’ of experience.
The second approach you could take is to dissolve
these approaches within your discursive method, calling them all problematic as long as they refuse to relinquish the subjective in favor of a discursive idealization which denies a role to point of view.
For instance, Matthew Ratcliffe has been working on an approach to experiencing he calls ‘existential feeling.
Ratcliffe fleshed out his approach with elements drawn from the phenomenologies of Merleau-Ponty, Husserl and Heidegger:
“Both Husserl and Merleau-Ponty add that localized experiences of possibility presuppose a more-enveloping orientation, a sense of belonging to the world. When I see or think about something, when I am afraid of something, and when I am in a bad mood about a wider situation, I already find myself in the world, in a way than differs in kind from intentional experiences in one or another modality (e.g. imagining, perceiving, or remembering something). This ‘world' is presupposed by intentional states of whatever kind with whatever content. We can think of it in terms of a possibility space, a receptivity to types of possibility.”“Things are experienced as significant to us, as mattering to us, in various different ways, something that involves a sense of the possibilities they offer.” (Ratcliffe, 2020
In the following, Ratcliffe shows how communication is affected by subjective alterations in existential feeling.
“The themes of silence and the unsayable have been associated specifically with the testimonies of Holocaust survivors. In addressing the relevant literature, Martin Kusch (2017) introduces the term “linguistic despair” to capture the way in which language’s failure is taken to be unavoidable and insurmountable. The phenomenon he refers to is mentioned explicitly in several well-known autobiographical accounts. For instance, here is how Elie Wiesel (2006, viii-ix) describes the linguistic challenge that one faces:
Convinced that this period in history would be judged one day, I knew that I must bear witness. I also knew that, while I had many things to say, I did not have the words to say them. Painfully aware of my limitations, I watched helplessly as language became an obstacle. It became clear that it would be necessary to invent a new language. But how was one to rehabilitate and
transform words betrayed and perverted by the enemy? Hunger – thirst – fear – transport selection – fire – chimney: these words all have intrinsic meaning, but in those times, they
meant something else. (viii-ix)
Charlotte Delbo (1985 / 1990, p.3) describes the limitations of language in a complementary way, emphasizing a kind of ‘splitting’ that encompasses language, self, and reality. There is the consensus world that one now inhabits no and there is also the world of
the concentration camp.
2 As Wiesel points out, words such as ‘hunger’ and ‘chimney’ had quite different connotations in that world, in a place where all that one previously took for
granted and that one’s interpreters now take for granted was extinguished. To describe Context A to those residing in Context B, one relies upon words such as x, y, and z, which are familiar to interpreters situated in B. However, those words have importantly different
connotations in A, which are muffled by interpreting them against the backdrop of B. Hence, in order to describe something, one must use words that someone else understands, but that same understanding eclipses the phenomenon in question. As Kusch (2017, p.142) writes,
“the struggle for words is essentially the struggle to communicate the destruction of much of
what in ‘ordinary life’ we take for granted”. There is a loss of ordinarily implicit, pre- reflective certainties that the workings of language more usually presuppose.
If this is what the phenomenon consists in, then it is also something that can arise at the level of the individual, something that can happen to ‘me’ rather than ‘us’, where ‘us’ might be a family, a larger group, or even a whole culture. Of course, there remain important differences. Nevertheless, a particular person can similarly experience the destruction of a habitual world that others presuppose, such that words cannot be successfully exported from one context to the other. For example, Annie Rogers (2007, p.4) describes what she calls the “unsayable” in a way that seems to incorporate this (although it is not the explicit focus of her account): “It was there, as a sixteen-year-old girl, that I stopped speaking for five months, from October to February. I realized that whatever I might say could be misconstrued and used to create a version of ‘reality’ that would be unrecognizable, a kind of voice-over of my truths I could not bear.” Later on, she writes, “Here is the unsayable, where words are spoken, yet fall into disconnection with what they point toward” (p.88). It should be added that the distinction between group-level and individual-level trauma is by no means straightforward. That something happened to ‘us’ does not imply a sense of shared understanding among those who endured it. Where we are concerned with the phenomenology of trauma, what happened to ‘us’ may still be experienced principally as ‘mine’ rather than ‘ours’. For instance, Shay (1994, pp.205-6) reports that some Vietnam veterans did not feel solidarity with fellow traumatized soldiers but instead construed their
disclosures in terms of an adversarial “pissing contest”. The trauma is experienced as something that happened to ‘me’ - something to be endured alone, which is not to be understood by or shared with others.
We might distinguish two phenomena here: (a) a struggle to find the right words oneself; (b) a failure on the part of others to understand those words. One might have the experience of conveying something in an entirely adequate way, associated with the experience of others failing to comprehend one’s words due to their own contingent limitations. Conversely, one might feel that, although one’s words fall flat, certain empathic
individuals still manage to understand. However, (a) and (b) have a common origin and are, in practice, thoroughly entwined. One struggles to find words because something is lost when those words move between contexts, and others fail to understand because a familiar context eclipses an unfamiliar one. The communicative task of the trauma survivor is therefore doubly difficult: the profound gulf between what she endured (and perhaps continued to
endure) and what an interlocutor takes as given
impedes both linguistic expression and
linguistic comprehension. Importantly, the problem does not consist merely in recognizing that words fall short;
one also experiences those words as falling short. Even as they are uttered, there is a sense or feeling of their inadequacy. With this, there is also a more pervasive experience of lack or absence. Something that once seemed integral to the world, like bedrock, is experienced as missing, perhaps altogether lost. My task here is to clarify the relevant phenomenology. Two
broad types of scenario can be distinguished: (i) one shares context B with another person and seeks to relate context A to that person, while experiencing the gulf between where one once was (A) and where both parties are now (B); (ii) one inhabits A in an enduring way, thus experiencing a gulf between where one is now (A) and where the other person is now (B). I will focus principally on (ii), on those cases that involve an enduring experience of loss, in contrast to something that also seems alien to oneself much of the time. However, I also concede that the distinction between A- and B-type scenarios is not clear-cut.”