“The limits of my language mean the limits of my world.”
Clarity and success.
That quote up there was something taught by Ludwig Wittgenstein (April 26, 1889–April 29, 1951) an Austrian-born philosopher who spent most of his life in England, including teaching at Cambridge.
Since Wittgenstein’s original statement was in German (“Die Grenzen meiner Sprache bedeuten die Grenzen meiner Welt”) there are variations based on how it’s translated. For example, it could also be written as “The limits of my language stand for the limits of my world.”
The definition of bedeuten is “to mean” or “to signify.” I might have been less literal and, using Wittgenstein’s own ideas, written the translation using an English word that has more impact for English speakers: “The limits of my language define the limits of my world.”
It may seem like splitting very fine, blond hairs, but Wittgenstein dedicated his life to clarity and precision of language. (And translation requires bringing both the meaning and the intent into another language, so it’s seldom accomplished with literal translations.)
Wittgenstein also expressed the same idea from a slightly different angle, “The limits of my language are the limits of my mind. All I know is what I have words for.”
He talked about language and understanding as being inseparable, and that the language we use determines whether or not we are clearly understood. Of course, he also said the extent to which we can be understood will be limited if our audience lacks the language to follow what we say.
The ability to name things, and understand each other when doing so, is one of the key things that sets us apart from the rest of the animal kingdom.
Parenthood and responsibility.
While Wittgenstein – considered one of the greatest philosophers of the 20th century – was describing the limits of one’s world as an adult being determined by the depth and quality of one’s language, a recent New York Times article describes a study that shows that the very same is true for very young children: their futures can be determined by the quality of the language they’re taught.
There is nothing simpler or quicker than creating a child. Nature designed it that way. (It takes more time to make breakfast.) Conversely, few things are more difficult than raising a child properly and ensuring some amount of independence and success.
More than ever, language is at the core of that success.
Wittgenstein also said, prophetically, “The difficulty in philosophy is to say no more than we know.” That certainly isn’t a statement I’d limit to philosophy.
People who say far more than they know is a symptom of our age. Language, sadly, is seldom used for clarity today. Lawyers, politicians … and even TV news anchor persons make a practice of using as many words as possible in an effort to make certain that all meaning is lost.
As communicators, clarity of communication is what we’re about. Obfuscation is what “they” are about.
It goes double for marketing.
Early in my career, I was interviewing for a position at an ad agency and the creative director wasn’t just looking at my portfolio, he was reading every line of copy. I felt slightly embarrassed because I had a lot of samples. So, to be polite, I said something like, “I didn’t expect you to read all the copy.”
His reply was illuminating. “I always read the copy because lots of people can be involved in headlines. It’s usually just the copywriter who writes the copy.”
Writing ad copy is a remarkable education. It’s unlike any other kind of writing. Even when the copy is short, it has to have a beginning, a middle and an end. It has to be like a very short story that educates readers while exposing them to something new.
The copy has to pay off the headline – which has to be good enough to get people to read the copy – and it has to close in a satisfying way, if possible with humor.
The copy also has to tie in to the tag line, which is often something inherited and which every writer on an account has to work with because tag lines go on far longer than any other element of a campaign.
Copywriters are taught that what we write has to be able to stand on its own. Meaning, if you have to be there to explain it to the reader or viewer, it doesn’t work. (Don’t you wish movie-makers followed the same rule?)
Copywriting is a craft unlike any other, and its demands teach one a great deal about writing.
Most of all, it shows that we have to know how to use language better than “the average person.”
I know full well that Wittgenstein might not be amused to see his ideas being applied to something as prosaic as marketing and advertising. But what he taught applies to our discipline as much as any other, if not much more.
Our job is to touch people where they live – to reach their emotions. In order to touch people’s emotions – because that’s what good copy does – we have to know a great deal about language in order to be able to use the precise language that will get us there.
