Why I Am Not a Fan of Ludwig Wittgenstein

I tried. I really did. I sat down with Wittgenstein, ready to be enlightened.

Ready to be dazzled by his legendary intellect.

And what did I get? A headache. A migraine of the soul.

Look, I get it. The guy was smart. Smarter than me, smarter than you. Smarter than a room full of philosophy professors with tenure and tweed jackets.

But sometimes, just sometimes, being smart isn’t enough.

Sometimes, you need to actually say something instead of playing mind games with words like a cat batting around a half-dead mouse.

So, here are seven reasons why I am not a fan of Ludwig Wittgenstein.

And no, it’s not because I didn’t “understand him.” It’s because I did.

1. The Man Was an Intellectual Tease

Ever had a conversation with someone who answers your question with another question? You ask, What time is it? and they say, Well, what do you mean by time?

And suddenly, what should have been a simple glance at a clock turns into a deep dive into the nature of existence. That’s Wittgenstein.

You go to him looking for answers, and instead, he hands you a riddle.

You sit there, twisting and turning the words in your head, thinking you’ve cracked the code.

But then he leans in and says, Ah, but was that really the question? And now you’re not just confused—you’re doubting everything.

The ground shifts beneath you, and he’s over there, nodding like a magician who just made your common sense disappear.

It reminds me of something he actually said: “A serious and good philosophical work could be written consisting entirely of jokes.”

The problem is, he wasn’t telling the kind of jokes that make you laugh.

He was telling the kind that make you stare at the wall for three hours, wondering if language has tricked you into believing the world is real.

2. He Loved to Burn Bridges (and His Own Ideas)

He wrote Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus, a book that basically said, “Here is the final truth about language and logic.”

Then, years later, he said, “Nah, forget all that,” and wrote Philosophical Investigations, which contradicted his earlier work.

That’s like a chef serving you a meal and then slapping it out of your hands, saying, “Actually, food is meaningless.”

3. He Treated Language Like a Puzzle, Not a Tool

Wittgenstein was obsessed with how language works, but he got so deep into the mechanics that he forgot people actually use language to communicate.

It’s like dissecting a joke so much that it stops being funny. Sure, words have limits. Sure, meaning is complicated. But sometimes, a chair is just a damn chair, Ludwig.

4. He Thought Philosophy Should Be Therapy (But He Was a Terrible Therapist)

Philosophy, he said, is just about clearing up confusion. It’s like therapy.

Great. Except his “therapy” was like going to a psychiatrist who only answers your questions with more questions.

“Doctor, I feel lost.” “What does ‘lost’ mean?” “I don’t know, that’s why I’m here!” “Perhaps your confusion is the problem, not the solution.”

Thanks, doc. Real helpful.

5. His Writing is a Labyrinth Without an Exit

Some philosophers take you by the hand, walk you through their ideas, and by the time you’re done, you feel like you’ve climbed a mountain, lungs full of clean air, head clear with new understanding.

Wittgenstein? He hands you a map written in a language you don’t speak, points toward a fog-covered hill, and tells you the journey is the destination.

Take Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus. It’s not a book. It’s a list. A collection of numbered statements, each one looking like it should connect to the last, but instead, it leaves you dangling. You read one line, and it almost makes sense.

You read the next, and suddenly, the first one doesn’t make sense anymore. It’s like trying to build a chair with IKEA instructions, except halfway through, the booklet starts questioning whether chairs even exist.

And just when you think you’ve got a grip on it, he hits you with something like, “Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent.” Which sounds profound, sure. But try using that in real life. Imagine telling someone, “I have something important to say, but I can’t say it, so I won’t.” That’s not wisdom—that’s just walking away from the conversation.

6. He Was a Genius, but a Miserable One

Wittgenstein wasn’t just difficult on paper. He was difficult in life. He alienated people, burned friendships, and walked around like he had a storm cloud over his head.

If he was a rock band, he’d be one of those avant-garde noise groups that breaks up on stage mid-performance.

7. He Left Us With More Questions Than Answers

After all his thinking, all his writing, all his intellectual gymnastics, what did he really leave us?

A bunch of ideas about how language works, a cryptic farewell (“Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent”), and a feeling that we’ve been tricked into running a marathon on a treadmill.

Summary Table

Point #	Reason	Short Explanation
1	Intellectual tease	Answers questions with riddles
2	Burns his own ideas	Writes one thing, then contradicts it
3	Language as a puzzle	Overcomplicates basic communication
4	Bad philosophical therapist	Makes confusion worse
5	Impossible writing	Reads like a cryptic code
6	Miserable genius	Difficult personality
7	No real answers	Leaves us hanging

Conclusion

So, after all this, do I hate Wittgenstein? No. Hate is too strong a word.

But I wouldn’t want to be stuck in an elevator with him. I wouldn’t want to drink with him, unless I was already drunk and in the mood to fight.

And I definitely wouldn’t want him as my therapist.

He was brilliant, yes. But brilliance alone isn’t enough. Sometimes, you just want someone to say what they mean.