When Silence Dies, the Truth Bleeds
- David Lapadat
- Jun 2
- 4 min read
What if our words don’t mean what we think?
What if our deepest theories are just echoes of nonsense?
And when silence fades, does the truth start to bleed?
These questions aren’t just for philosophers. They’re alive in our daily struggles—when we search for meaning in a chaotic world.
Today, I’m diving into Ludwig Wittgenstein’s Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus.
It’s a book from 1921 that challenges everything we think about language and truth.
Let’s explore its depths together. Through philosophy. Through art. Through the silence we’ve lost.
Words as Shadows: my take on the Tractatus
I see the Tractatus as a mirror. It reflects a question that burns: do words and theories hold real meaning?
Or are they nonsense pretending to be truth?
Wittgenstein says language can only describe what’s logical. Facts we can picture in the world.
“The world is the totality of facts, not of things,” he declares in proposition 1.1. That hit me hard. It’s a thunderclap of clarity.
But here’s the rub. Much of what we say—our big ideas, our moral rants, our metaphysical dreams—might be empty. Noise. Shadows.
I think of some social media debates. Endless arguments over “truths” we can’t prove. Are we just shouting into a void?

Art and the Silence We Cannot Speak
Wittgenstein’s final line in the Tractatus haunts me.
Proposition 7.
“Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent.”
It’s a call to stop talking where words fail. But I disagree. I think art can bridge that gap.
Music, poetry, fiction—they don’t just tell. They show.
My songs and poems for example don’t explain freedom, pain, loss. They embody them. You feel them. Through rhythm. Through words that dance.
Poetry does this too. A line from a poem can capture what philosophy can’t.
Fiction lets us live truths we can’t name.
Art doesn’t need to speak. It breathes.
It shows what Wittgenstein says we should leave silent. And in that showing, we find meaning.
Wittgenstein: A 20th-Century Genius
Why was Wittgenstein seen as a genius by his peers?
In the early 20th century, he reshaped philosophy. Thinkers like Bertrand Russell called him a prodigy. His ability to strip language to its bones—logical, raw, unapologetic—stunned his contemporaries.
The Tractatus wasn’t just a book. It was a revolution.
A new way to see the world through language’s limits.
The Awesome Points of the Tractatus
Let’s break down the Tractatus. It’s structured as seven main propositions. Each one builds on the last.
Here are the highlights.
First, Wittgenstein redefines reality. “The world is the totality of facts, not of things.” Facts are what exist. Things are just their pieces. This shifts everything. Reality isn’t objects—it’s relationships.
He then ties language to this reality. “A proposition is a picture of reality,” he says in 4.01. Words work when they mirror facts. If they don’t, they’re meaningless. It’s a radical idea. Language isn’t free. It’s bound by logic.
Ethics and metaphysics? They’re out.
Proposition 6.42: “Propositions cannot express anything that is higher.”
Beauty, morality, God—these can’t be spoken. They’re beyond language’s reach.
Finally, that famous line. “Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent.”
Wittgenstein ends by urging silence. Where words fail, stop talking. It’s a bold finish. A challenge to philosophy itself.
Criticisms of the Tractatus: Three Main Voices
But the Tractatus isn’t perfect. It faced sharp criticism. Let’s look at three key critiques.
1. The Limits Are Too Strict
Some philosophers, like Frank Ramsey, argued Wittgenstein’s view of language was too rigid. Language isn’t just logical pictures. We use it to express emotions, metaphors, even nonsense that still means something. Ramsey famously said, “What we can’t say, we can’t say, and we can’t whistle it either.” He meant: Wittgenstein’s silence ignores how humans actually communicate.
2. Self-Defeating Structure
The Tractatus itself became a target. Wittgenstein says metaphysical claims are nonsense. But isn’t the Tractatus a metaphysical work? Critics like Karl Popper pointed this out. If its own propositions are meaningless, why should we care? This paradox troubled many readers. It’s a crack in the book’s foundation.
Or is it?
I could argue it is just Wittgenstein way of embodying his creed into the book.
In my opinion, only the last sentence of the book matters, but you need to go through every page to really savor it.
3. Ignoring the Everyday
Later, Wittgenstein himself turned against the Tractatus.
In his Philosophical Investigations, he rejected its strictness. Language isn’t just logic, he realized. It’s a game. A tool shaped by life.
Critics agreed: the Tractatus misses the messy, human side of words. It’s too cold. Too abstract for our lived reality.
Although I think that was the whole point of it.
As for Ludwig Wittgenstein’s rejection of his own work, there can be an explanation.
I only can imagine that if you want to continue to write, you cannot do it after publishing an opus that said everything there was to say, so clear and concise, that only silence could follow.
When Silence Dies, What’s Left?
The Tractatus leaves me torn. Wittgenstein’s logic is sharp. It cuts through like a knife.
But it also feels like a cage.
If we can’t speak of beauty, love, or God, what’s left? Silence? I don’t think so.
When silence dies, the truth bleeds. It spills out in ways words can’t hold. That’s where art steps in.
Music, poetry, fiction—they don’t just speak. They show. They live. My music tries to do this. To feel what can’t be said.
Wittgenstein wanted silence where words fail. But I say: let’s fill that silence with art.
Let’s show the truths we can’t name. In a world that’s always shouting, maybe that’s the “rebellion” we need.
What’s a truth you can’t put into words? Share it below. Let’s find it together—through the stories that bind us.
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