Women themselves, for the most part, think of themselves as the sensible sex, whose business it is to undo the harm that comes of men's impetuous follies. For my part, I distrust all generalizations about women, favourable and unfavourable, masculine and feminine, ancient and modern; all alike, I should say, result from paucity of experience.

Most people are acquainted with the abuse of language that is involved in political propaganda. They accept that even in the best of times politicians aim, in part, to deceive their listeners, to put a good face on the worst of failures, to play down the successes of their opponents. In a general way, political language aims to guide people's perceptions of conditions and events in a way that is favourable to the interests of a politician and his party, interests which may or may not be consistent with the interest of his listeners. Such language is not meant to engender consideration of issues, but rather to free them from the burden of consideration. In the worst of times there is little or no interest in the fidelity between a speaker and his words and between words and things. The accuracy of language is abandoned in favour of its effect; truth is subordinated to ambition.

In order to entertain the argument to be presented here, you have to begin by casting away a presupposition. The ultimate aim will be to restore it again as a presupposition, but the immediate aim will be to test for and make clear its undoubted worth and usefulness by imagining what happens to our knowledge-system when we remove it.

In spite of his profound influence on philosophy in general, Wittgenstein has had no discernible effect upon the philosophy of education. It was not to be expected that his rejection of doctrine in favour of the clarification of language as the goal of philosophical activity would readily find favour with those for whom the medium was intrinsically less important than the message it was intended to convey. Nevertheless philosophers of education have no medium other than language and no means of identifying the subject of their discourse other than the word ‘education’. They cannot convey a clear message if the meaning of their words, ‘education’ in particular, is not clear. Accordingly they cannot take for granted but must clarify in accordance with a postulated theory of meaning the nexus between ‘education’ and education. In his early Tractatus and his later Philosophical Investigations respectively, Wittgenstein proposes alternative theories of meaning. I apply each in turn to ‘education’ and sketch my view of a Wittgensteinian philosophy of education.

In everyday English usage, the words ‘literal’ and ‘figurative’ are normally taken to be opposite in meaning. It is an opposition with very ancient roots. One of its forbears was the medieval theory of Scriptural hermeneutics, which distinguished among the literal, allegorical, moral, and anagogic senses of Scripture. This itself had an ancestry in pre-Augustinian times: Augustine tells in his Confessions how he learned from Ambrose the trick of interpreting Scripture figuratively, thus eliminating the problems and contradictions created by a literal reading. Earlier still, the distinction and the opposition were at least implicit in Poetics 21, where Aristotle differentiated between the standard or normal name for a thing, and various other types of name among which he listed metaphor. The antonymy of the literal and the figurative is therefore deeply embedded in our intellectual history, and it is perhaps for this reason that it has remained, to a large extent, unexamined and unquestioned.

In The Philosophy of John Stuart Mill, Alan Ryan suggests there is an underlying unity of conception in Mill's philosophical writing. He identifies this single idea as ‘inductivism’ and, in the first of the two chapters devoted to Mill's ethics, he states that ‘once we understand how this concept of rationality holds together his views on mathematics and justice’, we will find that much ‘light can be shed on the dark places of Mill's philosophy’. No mention will be made in the present essay of Mill's opinions on mathematics, and it is only incidentally concerned with his ideas about justice. However, it shares Ryan's premise that an inductivist interpretation of Mill's moral philosophy is likely to be most enlightening. In particular, our aim is to show how this approach can brighten up two undeniably murky spots in Utilitarianism: the ‘proof passage’ of chapter 4, and the distinction between higher and lower pleasures in chapter 2.