Wittgenstein indicates that the shared nature of language also informs our descriptions of our own internal experience. He tries to imagine a language in which words “refer to what only the speaker can know—to his immediate private sensations. So another person cannot understand the language” (243).
7 He then imagines the case of a man who labels a particular internal sensation “S” whenever he experiences it, wondering if “S” could become a private word, known only to this speaker. However, Wittgenstein points out that for the man to conceive of “S” as a sensation is already to rely on shared language: “For ‘sensation’ is a word of our common language, which is not a language intelligible only to me” (261). The private word simply substitutes for, and therefore relies on, the speaker’s knowledge of a shared term. We learn to use a word like “pain,” then, by speaking with others and familiarizing ourselves with the standard contexts in which people employ this term. When I grimace and say, “I am in pain,” my companion knows what I mean, Wittgenstein suggests, because I am using the word in accordance with conventions we have both learned for its use. [End Page 170]
In “Knowing and Acknowledging,” an essay in
Must We Mean What We Say? (1969), Cavell expands on Wittgenstein’s discussion by considering the case of the skeptic: the speaker who [...] points to the impossibility of knowing another’s pain the way I know my own. For Cavell, the fact that the word “pain” is used in shared ways does not actually refute the skeptic’s point. After all, when the skeptic says something like “I cannot know you are in pain because I cannot have your pain,” we understand this statement; the skeptic does not use words in ways that are incoherent to us, inconsistent with our shared linguistic practices. Moreover, Cavell points out, in a certain sense the skeptic’s statement is exactly right: my knowledge of your pain is of a different order than my knowledge of my own, a different level of certainty. To respond to the skeptic, Cavell writes, requires that we attend to a different use of the word “know”: that of expressing acknowledgment. In this sense, to say “‘I know you are in pain’ is not an expression of certainty . . . ; it is an expression of
sympathy” ([1969] 2002, 263). The problem with the skeptical position is that concern with the inaccessibility of other minds may prompt us to discount our connections to, or obligations toward, those around us. The skeptic’s picture of the divide between mind and world relegates not only “objects of knowledge,” as Simona Bertacco and John Gibson suggest, “but nearly the entire range of objects of human concern, of
value” (2011, 109) to the far side of this divide. So Cavell decides that while we cannot know (be certain) of another’s pain, we can acknowledge (respond to, do something about) it.