IV.

—WHAT IS A PHILOSOPHICAL
QUESTION?

BY NERMI UYGUB

IT is quite an odd fact that the intellectual activity commonly

called philosophy is under a fog. Not only sporadically philoso-

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phizing laymen but also professional philosophers are rarely
given the opportunity to discern their whereabouts. To attribute
this to order-destroying tendencies of our sophisticated times
would, no doubt, be unjust, for one always meets with difficulties
in answering the question, ' What is philosophy?' or in deter-
mining the domain of philosophy from its beginnings.
In this paper I shall attempt to give an answer to this question.
Yet a detailed examination of properties pervasive to the entire
domain of philosophy lies beyond my purpose. My intention is
rather to investigate only one of the numerous dimensions of
philosophy. I seek to elucidate the specific structure of philoso-
phical questions in general, Thus, I believe, the fog that envelops
philosophy would be largely dissipated.
The following are points I wish to avoid : (a) To the question,
' What is philosophy ?' I shall not reply with a single complete
formula. I am inclined to think that such a formula is neither
available nor necessary, (b) Equally, I shall not undertake to
make a list of miscellaneous questions belonging to the tradition
of philosophy, for such an inventory cannot be made before
philosophizing. Philosophy is an inquiry which often fashions
its own questions without excluding new ones. Where questions
do not change, inquiry cannot deserve this name. If by phUoso-
phia perennis we are to understand the permanence of questions
of philosophy, then philosophy is the very reverse of perennis ;
it possesses no fixed framework because it is constantly renewed
through fresh questions, (c) From this follows the reason why
I shall not have recourse to gathering the questions of philosophy
out of its history. Countless questions have arisen during its
long history but this cannot ensure conclusively their being
philosophic, although some of them have persisted as a stereo-
typed centre of activities for centuries. Philosophy has, in fact,
undergone several revolutions regarding its store of questions.
It is usual that either a key question is transferred from the realm
of philosophy to that of science, thus transforming those philoso-
phers who tried to answer it into pioneers of a certain branch of
64
 WHAT IS A PHILOSOPHICAL QUESTION? 65

science ; or questions which have given birth to various philoso-

phical schools and kept them alive for a long time are unmasked
as non-philosophical ones, (d) Finally, I shall not attempt to
prescribe new questions for the republic of philosophers. Investi-
gators can never have questions imposed from outside except
those arising from the subject matter of their own inquiries.
My main object is to scrutinize the typical structure of a genuine
philosophical question without regard to the stage of research it
might animate. My chief concern is to describe only the salient

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characteristics of a philosophical question. I see my task in
showing what is contained in such a question ; I want to throw
light on what is asked in it, trying to point out, as correctly as I
can, the basic form of a question proper to philosophy. The
leading question in the present essay is : What is a philosophical
question? Here a question manifests itself which, so far as I
know, appears for the first time in contemporary philosophy,
and in particular in British philosophy, in G. E. Moore and L.
"Wittgenstein, to name its two classical figures. It would not,
however, be too much to say that nowadays the question demands
to be stated more precisely and answered far more radically,
despite some latent beginnings which can lead to fructification.
It is my contention, therefore, that the fog enveloping the pro-
vince of philosophy may thus be sufficiently removed.
In order to attain my aim, I shall try each time to elucidate the
question from a different point of view. Through comparison
with the specific framework of everyday questions, sometimes
with those of science, the examination and understanding of the
structural background of philosophical questions will in a great
measure be sharpened, although it can only be carried out roughly
in this essay. Finally, I shall deal briefly with the function and
importance of the study of philosophical questions as such.

n
In analysing the structure common to philosophical questions
one difficulty which seems to confuse matters is the link between
philosophical questions and the world {or universe). For this
reason I shall now endeavour to clarify this link
Everyday questions, owing to their multiple sources and re-
sponse-directions, are naturally interwoven in the voluminous
net of the world, so rich in preoccupations as well as situations.
A brief consideration of tie different functions of everyday
questions will suffice to prove this. It must be noted that every-
day questions never perform a uniform task. Such a question is
5
66 N. UYGUB :
uttered by the necessities of an almost unique situation, as can
easily be gathered from the spoken or written form.
For the most part, ordinary questions involve a hick or break,
as it were, in the body of a word order usually called a question-
sentence. It is tofillthis hick or amend the break that an appeal
is made to the person questioned. This can be shown in the air
of unsatisfactoriness which often pervades the question, as in-
dicated by convenient interrogative particles like ' how ', ' who ',
' how much ', etc., which plainly ' ask' the question. ' How

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many rooms are there in this house?'—puts a question which is
answered by someone who is able to replace the ' how many'
by the real number of rooms. Thus the ignorance of the
questioner about some worldly matter of fact is overcome by the
awareness of another. The statement, for instance, ' There are
five rooms in this house ' proves wholly sufficient. A confront-
ation of the two sentences may give rise to an impression of
obscurity, or even defectiveness, in regard to the question-
sentence. This impression is in a sense delusive. Question-
sentences containing not only one but several interrogative
particles are nonetheless complete sentences in virtue of their
syntactic status (e.g.: question : ' How many rooms has each
lodger in this block? '—answer : ' A's have four rooms, B's have
five rooms '). That part which is lacking in a question-sentence
is not that which is inherent in its structural form but in its con-
tent. To overcome this one must have recourse to the world,
viz. to relevant perceptions, actions, and experiences.
Such a recourse is structurally not required by a philosophical
question, because it does not contain any formal lack to be filled.
' What is explanation?', ' What is meant by causality?', ' What
is this—probability? ',—all these are no doubt philosophical
questions. Nevertheless, there is no word which permits sub-
stitution. There is no need to replace ' what is', for instance,
by some other word. Propositions Buch as,' This is explanation ',
' That is explanation ', should at no time be considered as replies
to the question, ' What is explanation? ' In philosophy, no
substitute sentences can eliminate the re-asking of the very ques-
tion which gave rise to them ; on the contrary, they contribute
to the much more energetic re-statement of the related question.
But whoever puts forward an ordinary question is completely
satisfied when he adequately understands the reply provided by a
substitute sentence which makes logically superflous the repetition
of the question as such in virtue of its now completed form.
The link with the world becomes more apparent in another
kind of everyday question, namely disjunctive questions. ' Is
 WHAT IS A PHILOSOPHICAL QUESTION? 67

the door of the house open or shut?' is the expression of a question

in which someone vacillates between two facts related to the
world-situation, only one of which is believed to be actually
inherent. As a rule, one can only reply to this question by going
to the door of the house where the relevant world-fact is to be
found. The correct answer excludes one of the two terms (or
clauses) of the disjunction (e.g. ' The door of the house is shut').
Hesitation is thus exchanged for resoluteness. From this it
follows that disjunctive questions presuppose a decision con-

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cerning the world which is valid for the majority of everyday
questions, in that they are principally questions whose ground
for decision is supplied by a definite fact in the world, whether
one term of the disjunction be omitted or not (e.g. ' Is the door
of the house shut? ' is in a sense identical with the question, ' Is
the door of the house open or shut? ').
But philosophical questions are in sharp contrast to these, in
that they do not incorporate any hesitation. They all necessarily
ask something. It may even happen that they express a dis-
junction. Yet they can never be decided upon by facts of the world.
Let us take the question, ' "What is explanation?' At a certain
stage in our investigation we may think the question has been
uttered as, ' Does the explanation tend to find out the causes or
purposes of facts?' It must be noted nevertheless that the
recourse to some world-reality can never still the hesitation,
for it does not concern the clarification of a certain world-state.
In a philosophical question the attention is released, as it were,
from the world to concentrate on discourses on the latter. The
hesitation is directly rooted in the discourses, since it is only asking
whether the explanation of world-facts is concerned with their
causes or purposes. To answer this question one must abstain
from inquiring into the world-facts as such and only attempt to
elucidate them ; in the case considered, therefore, the expression
of explanations. This is true of all concepts questioned in philo-
sophy. The hesitation presented in the question, ' Is conscious-
ness a mechanism or organism? ' requires primarily a thorough
investigation of the respective concepts ' mechanism' and
' organism '. The ground for treating philosophical questions is
thus not various world-facts—e.g. machines or living beings—
but different discourses embodying these concepto.
A further particularity helps to show the way in which philoso-
phical questions, in a sense, are not concerned with the world.
If they were concerned with it, i.e. with its contents, construc-
tion and interconnection of facts, they would often never have
been put forward, since the occurrence of some world-perception
68 N. UYGUB :
would make them superfluous. A question whose answer is
known cannot be considered as a question which is not asked if it
can be postponed until relevant world-orientations (or relevant
experiences) are provided. He who has learned to wait generally
asks little in everyday life. But philosophical questions can never
be eliminated through world-orientations. However satisfac-
torily our perceptions of the world be expounded, they can never
contrive the renunciation of philosophical questions. Since
what is asked in them is not merely the world, they cannot be

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rendered wholly needless through any conceivable saturation of
world-knowledge. Let us assume, for instance, that we have
stated all possible cause-effect connections among the totality of
world-facts. Then there will be no need to aak any questions about
the causality concerning concrete facts. Yet we would still ask,
despite the perfection of our world knowledge, and perhaps owing
to it, the question, ' What is causality? ' This quite odd situ-
ation illustrates a typical particularity of philosophical questions :
the sum total neither of activities nor of knowledge concerning
the world can furnish elements in answering any philosophical
question, in that ita immediate ground lies beyond, the world.

m
Viewed from their expression, philosophical questions often
appear in a monotonous garment. To make this characteristic
more apparent, it will be sufficient to add some new questions
to those I have cited : ' What is beauty? ', ' What is matter? ',
' What is history?', ' What is meaning? ', ' What is science? '.
All those questions are, as is evident, what-is questions. They
unanimously perform the same function: they ask the what-is
of a certain word (or concept) contained in the question. There
are, of course, questions which are not fitted to this pattern,
being devoid of what-is, as is shown in the philosophical question,
' How many kinds of ways of knowing are there? ' Nevertheless,
on closer examination they will be seen to spring from the same
source as what-is questions, since they attempt as a rule to under-
stand the same concept in respect of its what-is. Indeed, the
question, ' How many kinds of ways of knowing are there? ' can
be traced back directly to the question,' What is knowledge? ',
for there exists no essential difference between that asked separ-
ately by both questions. Most questions bearing the stamp of the
monotonous what-is cannot be definitely denied the qualification
of being philosophical, although one is rarely aware of this at
first sight.
 WHAT IS A PHILOSOPHICAL QUESTION? 69

The reason for this is doubtless resident in the very intention

of philosophical questions, which is directed not to the occur-
rences of everyday life as such, in that their subject matter goes
beyond the network of worldly orientations through actions as
well as cognitions. It is from the abundant variety of concrete
world-situations that everyday questions borrow their hetero-
geneous functions in accordance with diverse circumstances. To
account for this, one has to listen, free from prejudices, to the
polymorphic as well as polytonic discourses of one's surroundings.

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Joy : ' Where have you come from?'; challenge: ' Who says I
am clumsy?'; request: ' Would you please give me your fountain
pen V ; sometimes an appropriate way of teaching : ' What are
the parts of this gun?'; need of repeating a pleasant or unpleasant
thing : ' Can I swim?'; denial: ' Was it I who has said it? ' ;
astonishment: ' Do you really not want to come with me? '
Contrasted with these, all philosophical questions appear in a
sense to be quite ' weak', in that they both have different con-
structions. The latter have a distinct configuration: a word
(or concept) transcending everyday interest in relation with a
' what-is ' ; whereas the former break away from a fixed scheme.
In daily life every question iB moulded on the limited diversity
of concrete and unrepeatable world-situations. Some of them
are not infrequently used in surmounting, through rhetoric, the
monotony of daily discourses, in preference to working out a
pattern to befilledby a piece of knowledge or action on the part
of the person questioned. The question, for instance, ' Was it
I who has said it?' expounds in certain situations a denial-sentence
serving to confirm the contention, ' I assure you, I haven't said
it,' although it feigns to put the question on someone else. Viewed
from this standpoint, philosophical questions give the impression
of being ' dry ' or ' lifeless '. Numerous are those who think so.
And it is beyond doubt, I may say, that they covertly or openly
wish to underrate philosophical questions by means of these qualifi-
cations. Kightly understood, it is quite possible to apply the
word ' dry' as a positive qualification in expressing a positive
trait of their peculiar construction ; they have, in fact, a simple,
i.e. an uncomplicated pattern ; what they ask is expressly asked ;
their what-is cannot simultaneously simulate asking without
asking at all; in other words, there is no disparity between what
it does ask in appearance and what it does ask in reality; a
philosophical question is in no way a rhetorical question.
The what-is determines the very construction of philosophical
questions. What-is gives us a token to distinguish them from
other kinds of questions, especially from those of everyday life.
70 N. UYGUR :
It provides us not only with an easy ground for delimitation of a
certain type of questions, but it also supplies the very criterion
to build and recognize as such a philosophical question. The
what-is of philosophical questions is far more than a mere annexe;
it is the Tnnin basis for their being philosophical. This can
already be shown in the small quantity of what-is questions
outside the plane of philosophy. The function of any everyday
what-is varies from that of the what-is in philosophy. He who
in everyday life fonnulates his questions with a what-is thereby

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demands of someone else the name of something. ' What is
this?' amounts t o , ' Would you please tell me the name of this? '
Most children's what-is questions are included in this class.
Some everyday what-is questions have, on the other hand, a
rhetorical purport, as is the case in reproach and disgust. ' What
is this that you are doing?', ' What is this that I have had to
suffer because of you? ' It is true that an interest other than in
mere questioning pervades these question-sentences, so that the
' ? ' of them can be replaced without any important change by
' I'. Philosophical questions, on the contrary, do not purport
to appeal to someone to name a certain thing. In putting forward
the question, ' What is mind?' we are inquiring into something
we primarily know. What we intend knowing is not the mere
name of' mind' whioh we imply that we know at least nominally
in our question; our purpose is something other than this, al-
though related to ' mind '. Philosophical questions constructed
by the introduction of what-is have nothing at all to do with
rhetoric. Obviously, ' What is mind? ' is neither reproach nor
an expression of disgust. The question considered asks directly—
beyond any rhetorio—what it is asking in virtue of its what-is.
One circumstance, on the other hand, seems to refute this
statement: though philosophical what-is questions without
exception not only ask something, they express astonishment at
the same time. Hence the claim that they do not ask anything
which is in general not a frivolous surprise concerning some con-
cepts transgressing the framework of daily life. According to
this view, the question ' What is mind? ' ought to be a rhetorical
expression of an odd behaviour in respect of ' mind '. Such an
assertion, I maintain, by no means distorts the structure of
philosophical questions, although it touches upon a fact to be care-
fully remembered. It is true that wonderment is inherent in
every philosophical question. But this wonderment incorporated
in every philosophical what-is, is not rhetorical, for it is neither
frivolous nor convertible into another sentence form. It con-
statutes the sine qua non of any philosophical question. The
 WHAT IS A PHILOSOPHICAL QUESTION? 71

questioning and wonderment expressed by a philosophical

inquirer are not to be separated. What is asked in philosophy
is nothing other than the pivot of wonderment; the subject matter
of wonderment is necessarily the impulse which gave rise to
questions. It would prove vain to establish a link of anteriority
or posteriority between wonderment and the what-is by means of
questioning. What makes up a philosophical question is a
questionfilledwith wonder. Li every ' ?' which marks the com-
pletion of a philosophical question is hidden a'!'. A philosophical

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question mirrors, therefore, not only any human behaviour which
changes according to the peculiar disposition of individuals. It
also has trans-relative consistence from which the questioning
borrows its objective character: the composition of a philoso-
phical question discloses the deep-seated unity of questioning and
wonderment. ' What is mind? '—this question transgresses the
state of being an instantaneous halting place of fugitive wonder-
ment. The what-is of mind is challenged with extreme admir-
ation and a reverence. It would not be a misplaced attempt to
analyse it as follows : ' I am amazed by " mind ". I cannot
help asking the question, " What is mind? " because I feel sur-
prised at the very word " mind ". Through this question, I
inevitably assume the task of inquiring into the concept of mind.
That's all that I desire.' This way of analysis can mutatis
mutandis be applied to all philosophical questions.

IV
What is a philosophical what-is? What is that which it asks?
To what kind of questions exactly does it give rise? The answer
to these closely interrelated questions, I maintain, may contribute
the decisive light in making visible the distinctive structure of
philosophical questions. The whole weight of philosophical
questions is supported by the corner stone of what-is, the sound
formation of each being dependent on the appropriate use and
interpretation of what-is, as I have been trying to elucidate from
several angles. Nevertheless, this effort has resulted in a some-
what ' negative ' issue, in that it might have drawn attention to
that about which the philosophical what-is does not ask. Now
it may not untruly be stated that philosophical questions, in a
sense, do not question the world. What is left is therefore the
positive survey, as it were, of what they ask straightforwardly,
of the direction in which they are turned : I am confident that
some sections of this task have been smoothed by the previous
descriptions.
72 N. UYGUR :
In philosophy, the what-is asks the meaning of concepts. In
it is manifested an inquiry borne out of wonderment. The
what-is adheres, as it were, to the ' meaning'. The what-is
amounts to ' What is the meaning of . . .V All philosophical
questions—if they really are such—can. be moulded on this
scheme. For instance, he who asks the question,' What is good?'
has essentially asked,' What is the meaning of the word " good "?'
if he has asked himself a philosophical question. Philosophy is
preoccupation with the meaning of concepts which the what-is

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has made into its subject matter. Every philosophical question
aims to clarify the meaning of a concept or a nexus of concepts.
Preoccupation with the meaning, that is where the distinctive
mark of philosophical questions lies. As a counter to this,
ordinary questions are indifferent to ' meaning '. The question,
' Is the door of the house shut? ' seeks the statement of a definite
world-fact. Attention here is centred directly on the world-fact
rather than on single words or their interconnection in question-
sentences. What is required is the door of the house such as it is
in reality. Consequently, any expression permitting an answer
to the questioned state of the door, e.g. the drawing of convenient
signs in the air, would have proved sufficient to answer the ques-
tion. Certainly, the question, ' Is the door of the house shut? '
has a meaning differing in no way from that of, " Is the door of
the house shut? " The question's main concern is only with the
fact and not with the ' meaning'. In everyday life questions
look on the world ; to follow them up, e.g. to answer them, one
has to plunge into the world. But in philosophy questions exhibit
an uneasiness as to the meaning of some word ; it is an appeal to
dig into the meaning of these concepts. World and meaning—
here are the two dimensions of inquiry readily opened to everyday
and philosophical questions respectively.
This division may induce some people to form a batch of
opinions which, distorted as they are, are to be avoided. Some
of them such as, ' The world is without meaning',' The meaning
has nothing to do with the world.' ' The Meaning transcends
the world', ' Philosophy's subject matter is to be found in the
" Other " world', may suggest themselves with great force, so
that they have been, and are nowadays too, able to prescribe
ways of preoccupations called philosophy. Yet, I think there is
no place for them in the realm of philosophy, especially in the form
in which they are put forward. Nevertheless, I do not intend to
dwell on this subject at present. I only want to point out how
these distorted opinions arise from an erroneous view about the
behaviour of philosophical questions aa questions. The fact
 WHAT IS A PHILOSOPHICAL QUESTION? 73

should be clearly recognized that the statement,' No philosophical

questions ask about the world (or universe)', signifies they aim
at some knowledge about the' other ' world. Indeed, philosophy
contains no question which directly and solely concerns the world
in general, neither this one nor the other. A further feature is
likewise of importance in this connection : the meaning subjected
to clarification through the initiative of a philosophical question
does not constitute a new world beyond the known. The meaning
in ' What is the meaning of . . .? ' concerns concepts. Now

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language does not build up a reality transcending the world.
From this it follows none the more that philosophical questions
are dealing merely with language. They ask neither about the
world as world nor about language as language. The core of
their function may be briefly put by saying that they initiate
deepening-of-ihe-field-qf language-directed-to world. I t must be
stressed that the totality of philosophy is permeated in this
peculiar deepening.

To see the behaviour of philosophy in respect to its questions

it will now be convenient to grapple briefly with the words,
' world ', ' language ', and ' meaning '.
There is no need for my purpose, I think, to enter into details
relating to the word ' world ' or ' universe' which, to be sure, con-
stitutes one of the most baffling items of philosophical contro-
versies. It has many shades of meaning. But I may say that
I have been using it from the beginning of this essay in its every-
day sense; and that I have used it to point out just that to which
it expressly referred. According to this restriction, I under-
stand by it the realm through which our everyday lives are con-
tinuously flowing. Phrases, for example, like,' So is the world ',
' What an annoying world is ours ', ' 0, wonderful world ', ' Our
world is three-dimensional', point out roughly the same reality.
Viewed from this standpoint, the world is not only the scene of
everyday deeds but also the subject matter of scientific approaches.
Each branch of science works out a relatively independent
group of events which not infrequently are, at the same time,
everyday occurrences. The totality of sciences examining all
that which makes up the world—from the hive in the garden
through thousandfold inter-human relations to the complex
physicochemical reactions occurring on furthest galaxies—can be
termed world sciences. There is no science which does not inquire
into the world, though differently, i.e. with different methods and
74 N. UYGCB:
interests. Each science asks for itself the question,' How is the
world-matter constituted? ' Sciences are attempts to interpret
the world.
But world-interpretations imply, and yield in a sense, means
through which world-eventa are traced back to comprehensive
grounds, e.g. scientific laws, or are recognized and described as
unique phenomena. These means set up, on the other hand, a
world in itself varying from one science to another, and they
are called in general ' language' such as word-interconnection

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akin to that served in human interrelations, maps, graphs, mathe-
matical signs, etc. To know the world through a certain language
signifies to construct a certain side of the world by means of a
language proper to the related science where every stage is to be
considered as an answer to questions concerning the constitution
of the world itself. The question,' How is the world constituted?'
often gives way to, or precedes, another one, ' How is the world
to be changed? ' Thus all sciences form a body of questions and
answers about the world.
But the questions of inquiring are not exhausted on the
world. Men's questions sometimes concern the language through
which we inquire about the world, so that they can be classified
into two groups. There is, on the one hand, the question-pattern,
' How is language made up?' and on the other, ' What is the
meaning of language?' the former being the impetus of linguistic
sciences and the latter of philosophical investigations. A brief
confrontation between these two kinds of questions will be
helpful in throwing light on the distinctive properties of a philo-
sophical question.
The question, ' How is language made up? ' appears only
rarely in this particular shape, since it represents a type com-
prising numerous questions rather than incorporating a concrete
one. ' How is language made up? ' resumes almost all the pos-
sible questions that animate inquiries into language in general
or into single languages. Closely viewed, there exists an essential
similarity of structure between the two questions, ' How is the
world made up?' and ' How ia language made up? ' Indeed,
every world-question, e.g. ' How is the material in the seas com-
pounded? ', ' Which persons attended the scene of Socrates'
drinking the hemlock? ', can be conceived as part-questions of
the basic,' How 1B the world made up?' It is exactly in the same
relationship that separate questions about languages {e.g. ' How
is the process of speech constructed? ', ' What is the part played
by environment on the infant in the acquisition of speech? ',
' How is English expanded precisely as a state language in the
 WHAT IS A PHTLOSOPHIOAL QUESTION? 75

second half of the twentieth century?') imply the main question,

' How is language made up? ' All these questions emerge in the
domain of complicated groups of science, such as language
psychology, language geography, language history, etc. The
link binding the two questions, 'How is language made up?'
and ' How is the world made up?' consists in the fact that
questions relative to language are, at the same time, questions
about the world owing to the peculiarity that the former are in
a sense directed to a special group of world-phenomena called

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languages. The question,' How is language made up? ' amounts
therefore to the question, ' How is the class of the world-pheno-
mena termed " language " made up? '
As regards the word ' meaning', it would not be an exag-
geration to say that it has not yet been given due clarification,
although especially since the beginning of the twentieth century
it has been subjected to fruitful studies. Notwithstanding this
fact, I am inclined to think that it will always lack perfect trans-
parency, in that it raises a problem never to be solved, and per-
haps one having really nothing to do with solutions in the current
sense of this word. But I do not want to discuss this issue now.
My aim at present is the elucidation of the word ' meaning'
contained in the question pattern,' What is the meaning of. ..? '
which will, I believe, make intelligible some features of philoso-
phical questions.
What is needed is, first of all, to stress an important fact: that
the question-pattern of philosophy, 'What is the meaning o f . . . ? '
is as a question concerned with language. For the empty space
(...) in the question-matrix must befilledeach time with a word.
What is asked, for instance, in the question,' What is the meaning
of consciousness? ' is focused on the word ' consciousness' and
nothing else. No philosophical question can be accomplished
by pointing to a fact with a finger and asking at the same time
the question, ' What is the meaning of. . .?' The reply to such a
question requires no philosophical activity. What is needed is
another kind of answer varying according to the situation, namely,
the name of the indicated thing in a definite language, the relation-
ship of things to other things, their importance for man and
society. On the other hand, there is no doubt that this sort of
question emerges within the boundary of everyday discourses.
Let UB imagine someone going for a walk through a wood on
Sunday pointing out some whitish-thorny plants to a forester
and asking him, ' What is the meaning?' which may be given
the reply, ' These are hawthorns ; some people call them buck-
thorn ; they are used in dyes and medicine.' Seen from this
76 N. tJYGUB :
angle, the question, ' What is the meaning?' may be held to stand
respectively for, ' What is the name of this? ', ' What is the use
of this? ', ' What is the (practical) importance of this? ' thus
building an ambiguous body because of the obscurity of the word
' meaning'.
Contrary to this fact, philosophical questions mirrored in the
pattern, ' What is the meaning of . . .? ' perfectly express clear
and distinct questions when the empty space isfilledwith words
giving rise to concrete questioning. They all ask the meaning

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of definite words already mentioned in the questions and not of
any realities whatsoever transcending them.
A further point should not be overlooked at this juncture: the
question-pattern, ' What is the meaning of . . .? ' where the
empty space is supplied with a word does not set in motion
exclusively philosophical inquiries. It demands the meaning of
a certain word, as ite contents show ; therefore, it must naturally
be placed within the framework of language studies. Indeed,
a ramified body of scientific explanations is nowadays commonly
comprehended under the title Semantics or Science of Meaning,
itsfieldof activity being recognized in the thoroughgoing <vrftmin-
ation of meaning, so that it is held by the majority of contempor-
ary scholars to constitute the fundamental basis of linguistics.
The survey of what words of various languages mean, the research
into changes in the word-definitions through language-develop-
ment, the analysis of word-groups and slides of word-meanings,
the multidimensional confrontation of word-meaning belonging
to the same stages of language (or languages) . . .—the fulfilment
of all these highly important tasks belong to the Sciences of
Meaning. Semantically orientated linguists, no matter what
their aims might be called, usually subject the meaning of words
to examination from a restricted standpoint, such as that at a
certain stage of a determined language. The question, for
instance,' What is the meaning of prayer? ' conceived as a seman-
tic question, often has to do with a fixed language. In view of
this, the questions:' What is the meaning of the word'' prayer'' in
English?', 'What do Englishmen understand by the word
"prayer"?', 'What is found to be written in English dictionaries
against the entry " prayer "? ' are likely to be synonymous with,
' What is the meaning of prayer?'
' What is the meaning of . . .? ' regarded as a mere type of
philosophical question differs radically from semantic questions
couched sometimes in the same form. For what they respectively
ask varies distinctly. Their purpose and therefore reply-
directions are quite HiBwiTnilnr The semanticist's preoccupation
 WHAT IS A PHILOSOPHICAL QUESTION? 77

centres on the word-meaning as mere language-content in order

to display the ' how' of a definite historical phenomenon, that
is, of a definite language with respect to what its forms and situ-
ations mean. But a philosopher does not pursue his what-is
question about the meaning of a word of a definite language as
an historical matter. Although he carries on his investigations
in the field of language, he does not, however, intend to explain
it as such. In philosophy, ' What is the meaning of . . .? ' does
not explore the ' word '-phenomena, or the phenomena of words.

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He does not scrutinize the word for it6 own sake, but rather for the
' world '-phenomena for which it stands ; not language as such,
but ' things ' of which it ' speaks '. His working field can never
extend beyond the region of language. As philosopher, he is
not allowed to bid farewell to language in order to make direct
experiences with things, which, as a rule, concern men of science.
Nevertheless, he investigates things or phenomena. He asks
questions about them which are introduced by ' what' instead
of' how '. And ' what' can, in a sense, only be seen in the realm
of language.
A brief glance at a concrete philosophical question may help to
distinguish the particularity of the philosophical what-is. Let us
now deal with the question, ' What is prayer? ' as a philosophic,
and not a semantic one. This question is tantamount to this :
' What is the meaning of the phenomenon prayer which is
expressed by the word " prayer "? ' The philosopher can answer
the related what-is only when he moves within the boundaries
of language. Thus the aim of his clarification does not reside
in the ' word ' as such but rather in the meaning-content, i.e. the
world-fact indicated by the word in question. Undoubtedly,
the philosopher has to carry out his inquiries in the field of a
definite, historic language. He may set out his question, say in
English. His scope is scarcely English, say 'prayer', or 'prayer'
according to the English language. His main task is then, for
instance, directed to the various features of the meaning of the
fact ' prayer', such as solicitation of something from God (or
Gods), banking God for his blessings, turning toward God in
silence in order to be filled by Him. Religious witnesses as well
as achievements of those who have already carried out scientific
researches into the subject matter prayer (e.g. descriptive
accounts of the Psychology of Religion, Sociology and Theology)
yield, of course, the most secure support for the philosopher in his
specific endeavour. It should be pointed out, however, that
scientific dealing with the phenomenon prayer seek as a rule the
statement of the world in respect of its ' how ' concerning prayer>
78 N. UYGUB :
whereas the philosopher examines its ' what-is'. Herein one
meets with a problem which is never the centre of attention for
the ordinary man or scientist, e.g. semanticist. In ordinary life
a great many relations may link men with prayer : some pray
habitually, some in definite circumstances, and some do not pray
at all, according to their faith or lack of faith, or some other
ground. But no one in everyday life ever asks the question,
' What is prayer? ' As to the man of science, whether a seman-
ticist or a social psychologist, he generally takes no interest in

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the what-is of the whole phenomenon of prayer, but grapples
with questions concerning either the word ' prayer ' or a definite
state (side, feature, etc.) of it such as children's prayers, primitive
prayers. Evidently there is, therefore, in a sense, no mortal
except the philosopher who has an accurate notion about the what-
is of prayer, regardless of the fact that he might never believe in
the existence of the Unknown to which one is turned in various
forms of prayers, because it is solely he who asks the question,
' What is prayer? ' Interested as I am in prayer only as an illu-
stration, I shall not dwell on it at present.
The point I want to stress is this : the philosopher's what-is
are of the type asking the meaning of the words philosophically.
Man's life is interwoven in the net of the complex variety of
questions. Everyman's life is permeated by world orientations ;
linguists inquire into the ' how ' of language or languages ; and
the central question of the scientist is, ' How is the world made
up? ' As distinct from these, the ground of philosophical ques-
tions may be said to be expressed in the question, ' What is the
world?' Accordingly the common ground of all these main
types of questions is evident. Their ultimate boundary is that
of the world ; they all ask it, however, from different perspectives.
The philosopher's main goal, as focused by the totality of his
part-questions framed with what-is, does not reside directly in
the elucidation of world meaning. Through his what-is he parti-
cipates relatively at a later stage in the discourses on the u orld. The
possibility of a philosophical question (not any question, however,
but a philosophical one) implies the prior constitution of language
mniring possible both everyday and scientific activities.

VI
A further issue which legitimately stands at the centre of
philosophical discussions can be put under the heading : ' the
value of philosophical questions as such '. A quick look at the
history of philosophy would prove this fact though it has rarely
 WHAT IS A PHILOSOPHICAL QUESTION? 79

been given the attention it deserves. Philosophers, whether

as individuals or as members of a school, do not unusually come
into conflict with each other. The issue enters into the foreground
in proportion to the degree of force with which each philosopher
tries to demonstrate the futility of the questions dealt with by the
' opposite ' philosopher ; once this is achieved, he sees himself
perfectly j ustified in pronouncing the defeat of his opponent. For
thirty or forty years, especially in some circles, much has been
written and spoken of inappropriate questions of philosophy.

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What has been done consists as a rule in checking questions as to
whether they agree or not with presuppositions already definitely
taken for granted. Hence a question held to be right by one
philosopher is trumpeted as erroneous by another. But I shall
not venture at present to make any evaluative criticism of con-
crete questions of philosophy, because I am not in possession of
any definite philosophical' doctrine ', nor do I believe that such
an undertaking can lead to fruitful consequences. To set out
from ready-made answers in order to determine questions fitted
to them lies beyond my intent. In the following, I want to
clarify by mere description the value question in general, independent
of any •presuppositions whatsoever.
If the phrase ' a false philosophical question ' serves to indicate
a question's being really a question although not a philosophical
one, I maintain that this kind of question covers unlimited
examples. Everyday life, as well as science, provides us abun-
dantly with them. It is obvious that they can be labelled' false '
whenever they inappropriately appear in philosophical contexts,
such a labelling having claim only to a relative warrant. Indeed,
the so-called false questions may often play an important part in
inquiries of philosophers, whether as subject matter or illu-
stration. But they are not the very questions which introduce
and direct philosophical activity. This is why an investigator
has no claim to the title of ' philosopher' when he is tackling
questions, e.g. scientific ones, essentially lying outside philosophy.
A philosopher, for instance, asking why stones fall and studying
the cause by means of laboratory experiments should be con-
sidered to be treating a true scientific question on the (false)
ground of philosophy.
Furthermore, the discarding of some philosophical questions
under the terms of ' not genuine questions' implies that they
really are not philosophical questions although they appear to be
so. Such (pseudo-) questions can—already on account of their
labelling—never give rise to genuine philosophical inquiries.
According to the account above (V), the what-is cannot then be a
 80 N. UYGUR :

word, the meaning of which really asks a question out of mere

philosophical interest: instead it may have another intent, say
semantic. But I am wholly convinced that confusion of this
kind is rarely conceivable, if the philosopher proceeds along the
lines of common sense. That the questioner is not aware of
the intention of his question seems to me to be incompatible
with the very structure of human discourse in general and ques-
tioning in particular. As one knows perfectly that one is speaking
of bread and not, say, iron, so the questioner clearly sees the

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specific function of the what-is as to its meaning in questioning.
Nothing is so natural as the philosopher's recourse to semanticist's
explanations and conclusions laid down in semantics. He is
not, however, to be misled in his task of looking into the pheno-
mena-through-language, instead of into language, expressed as it is
in his philosophical what-is. The one is philosophical and the
other linguistic.
However, confusion is forced upon us when we undertake to
make hard and fast demarcations between pseudo-questions and
words which a what-is question tries to clarify from a philosophical
point of view. What is usually done consists in dividing words
into classes in respect of their philosophical value or import on
account of the claim that some of them are in principle uninterest-
ing for philosophy whereas others are declared to have an inherent
philosophical merit. For instance, the word ' knowledge' is
held open to philosophical what-is while the word ' house' is
denounced as incapable of replacing the (...) in the ' What is
the meaning of . . .? ' This classification, I may say, leads to
a conclusion in some ready-made philosophies rather than to an
exposition of unbiased descriptions. In fact, the delimitation
between the so-called pseudo-concepts and true concepts of
philosophy (between the ' noble ' and ' proletariate ' concepts as
it were) varies widely according to special requisites of various
philosophies. One cannot help but see in this a hidden Platonism,
for Plato—as it is reported—could scarcely avoid suffering the
same predicament himself in arguing against the existence of the
Idea of the Horse, although in its favour.
A value assessment tending to discriminate whether a concept
has the merit of being philosophical or not involves illogical
consequences although it might be urged for logical reasons. As
nobody can anticipate the limits, i.e. networks of concepts, to
which concrete inquiries will some day lead, no truly philoso-
phical reason necessitates stamping the sentence, ' What is
a house? ' (' What is the meaning of house? ') with the seal of
the pseudo-question. It is a conspicuous fact that the question,
 WHAT IS A PHILOSOPHICAL QUESTION? 81

' What is a house? ' would be as much a pseudo-question of philo-

sophy as the sentence,' The world is the house of man ' ; i.e. an
untrue proposition, since nobody would venture to call this pro-
position untrue unless he had his starting-point in a completely
gratuitous convention. Supposing that he commits such an
error, it is not nevertheless necessary that he might have previous-
ly asked the very question,' What is a house? ' as a philosophical
one. So I maintain that the philosophical what-is can, in principle,
be related to any word. A convincing backing for t.hiH argument

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is established by studies concerningthe philosophy of mathematics.
Plenty of words constituting the fundamental definitions of
geometry, e.g. ' between ', 'is called ', ' distance ', etc., are
essentially bound up with a philosophical : what-is ' within the
territory of philosophy of methods, albeit, according to some
investigators, they are deprived of any philosophical importance.
The third charge used to diHrniRH philosophical questions is
mirrored in the claim of their so-called ' meaninglessness '. As
is known, the word ' meaningless ' has become the pivot of some
philosophical trends. The reason for such an attitude is rooted
in the emotive connotation of the word meaningless, which
suggests at least an impression of repugnancy, fear, avoidance,
and condemnation. There is perhaps no argument which could
seriously undermine a philosophical inquiry as the meaningless-
ness of its questions.
However, it should be remarked that no question which asks
through a ' what-is ' the meaning of any word can be said to be
meaningless, since possible demarcation cannot lay claim to a
universally valid meaning. The question, for instance, ' What
is the meaning of the world?' is a meaningless question in the
minds of some people. Consequently, it is convenient (it is said)
to argue that almost all questions of philosophy are meaningless
on account of the reducibility to the fundamental question,
' What-is the world?' Apart from their aggressiveness, pre-
tentions like these are held to be supported generally on the basis
of the following scheme : no one has yet experienced the entirety
of the world; it has never been ' given' to anyone through
any perceptions whatever ; the word ' world ' is not the name
of any definite thing, nor does it stand for an entity, it is an
empty word ; now there is no sense in asking what an empty
word is, since it cannot be investigated ; so the question, ' What
is the world? ' is meaningless. The premisses of this argument
transcend in fact the attempt to describe objective implications
of the word ' world '. A hidden theory lies at the back of them :
the meaning of a word, or various arrangements of words, such
6
82 N. UYGUB :
as sentences, presupposes the perception of the entity it indicates.
Yet it is obvious that such a theory of meaning imprisons the
meaning of words in only one condition, and thus only partially
conceives the meaning. Following up this theory the philoso-
phical question-type ' What is the meaning of . . .? ' receives an
answer which already bars the way to any liberty in questioning.
For instance, the question ' What is the world? ' is included in
the list of meaningless questions. For freer attention such
imperatives prove to be illogical in contrast to the appearance

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of their logical necessity. The evidence flows readily from the
absurdity according to which the word ' meaning' amounts to
being quite meaningless. But, in fact, the theory attempts to
throw light on the meaning of the word ' meaning ' held first as
meaningless, although it continues in a quite one-sided manner.
If this explanation be true, the so-called meaningless words
and therefore questions of the type,' What is the meaning of...? '
which are dismissed by some people as meaningless philosophical
questions, are legitimate questions in the view of a free observer
who does not feel at home within the chains of the theory con-
ventions. Perhaps the most philosophical question of all philoso-
phical questions is the one expressed in, ' What is the meaning of
meaning?' from which—paradoxically enough—the apostles
of meaningless philosophical questions as a rule start. But I do
not want at present to follow up the extreme difficulties involved
in this question. I consider it sufficient if I have partly brought
into the open the meaningless act which is intended to attach
the label of meaninglessness to the questions of philosophy
having the form, ' What is the meaning of . . .? '

vn
As regards the philosophical content of the present essay—no
matter what its actual value might be—the following positive
conclusion can directly be deduced from its entirety : ' What is
a philosophical question? ' is a genuine philosophical question.
Because, firstly, it is completely in accordance with the what-is
type of philosophical questions. Secondly, it is by means of its
emergence that consciousness about philosophy reaches a signifi-
cant dimension. It constitutes the necessary and perhaps the
primordial question to throw light on the what-is of philosophy.
It does not, therefore, embody a merely possible or fortuitous
inquiry into the field of philosophy among other fields ; it does
express, in fact, a really important question for philosophy.
Multifarious difficulties, or rather deadlocks, in philosophy have,
 WHAT IS A PHILOSOPHICAL QUESTION? 83

in the hist instance, their origin in an alternative position con-

cerning that question either in ite being not asked at all or in its
being answered superficially, if not through hidden prejudices.
It would be better for philosophers, as well as laymen, to grapple
first of all with the very question ' What is a philosophical
question? ' when they really want to know what they may
expect of philosophical activities, if they have decided to defend
the whole territory of philosophy against the dangers of their
own fallacious operations, and save themselves from their own

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disappointment, the source of such great pains. To start
philosophizing in such a way takes into account the description
of the salient peculiarities of a philosophical question in general
and would further develop philosophy at its outset from an evi-
dently sound basis. Thus the advantage of philosophizing
directly is already secured at the beginning of philosophical
labours, the seduction of meta-philosophical generalities and,
moreover, the presuppositions, if not pitfalls, of ready-made
philosophy being so avoided.
Yet, surprising as it may seem, philosophical questions as such
have in the thousands of years of the history of philosophy
never been duly examined, with the exception of the above
mentioned references to British contributors. I maintain that
the hick of interest in this direction springs either, generally,
from the difficulty of loosing the chains of certain preconceived
philosophical commitmenta, or, specifically, from disregard of
the structure of question-forms, caused again through adherence
to some philosophical doctrine, if not to some philosophically
elaborated system of logic or linguistics. But a close elucidation
of this position lies beyond the subject-matter of the present
essay.
University of Istanbul {Turkey)