Ever since we started reading Crosswhite, I've been scratching my head -- a lot. Never mind his choice of dense language and arcane terminology, with precious few examples to help us visualize the application of his abstract ideas. To me, far more dubious was his mission to bring the masses to a place of non-violence through a text that could challenge even the most erudite among his philosopher clique. Then I came to Chapter 6, and I began, I think, to get a glimmer of the light Crosswhite sees, even if I question the need to pursue the ramification of every point and counter-point prior to arriving at this place.
In Chapter 6 the author unravels his view of the problems with formal logic versus informal logic. In particular, he focuses on the issue of supposed “fallacies” that arise when using the latter, some of which can work to a writer’s advantage and almost none of which, according to Crosswhite, qualify as official fallacies of logic, since the writer is usually presenting an argument, not a formal logical proof. He shows how even ambiguity is not a fallacy per se, but depends on the way the audience receives it. The problem, he says, comes when a particular audience mistakes itself for the universal audience, at which point they have stepped over the line, into the zone of the “unreasonable.” Though it’s taken him 181 pages to make this assertion, few could maintain that this isn't vital in a pursuit of settling disputes, and no one could argue that it isn’t founded on solid reasoning. Anyone who values reason would probably read this chapter and realize, “Yes, even I can be unreasonable." This is a stinging indictment for every enlightened fool, every religion, every country that prides itself on having discovered “the way” for the rest of the planet.
I wrote a couple weeks ago that I felt reason alone is incapable in waking people up to our own fallacious potential, an essential awareness for meeting another person in the middle. Interestingly, through a rhetoric of reason, Crosswhite has arrived at that same point, at least on a theoretical basis.
While I still hold that the statesmen who govern us are inherently unreasonable (even the most reasonable are corrupted by the system simply to survive the system), and are therefore immune to any such reasonable remedies, in Crosswhite’s utopia, where even the jaded can be redeemed by reason -- a world we’d all prefer to live in, perhaps -- if anything he offers could change our world, this chapter is it.
Of course, with money to be made all over the planet -- government and business in cahoots (by nefarious means or otherwise) -- and with a drowsy America unable to raise its sleepy head in objection (assuming they had an opinion), how many folks in Washington will take the reasonable path, even though they know, thanks to Crosswhite, that they're essentially despots foisting their ways on the defenseless?
Continuing his utopian model for world peace, the author insists on a consistently idealistic means of diplomacy. Argumentation, he says, depends not on our expectation of an interlocutor's having developed "a common human nature," but is essentially "a practice of hope" and a "desire to create," that is, build bridges. Expect the worst, he says, and hope for the best. (186-87) This is rich in wisdom, so far as a utopian model goes. While, by and large, I embrace this myself, politically, this can lead to trouble. In the real world, people tend to follow the notion of saving face, rather than turning the other cheek. The classic situation is the new guy arriving in a prison; the only way to have any peace, it's said, is to confront the biggest, baddest opponent to establish your reputation or end up everyone's punk. In global diplomacy, the same idea holds true. After you get into Vietnam, you don't dare pull out for fear that the whole international community will consider you "weak." How many lives have been lost because leaders couldn't risk looking like a "sissy"?
I would like to ask to what extent we can really adopt Crosswhite's notion that the writing class is "equally uncomfortable" for all participants when some have never really considered the "other," and some, especially minorities, have not only considered it, but may revel in it as a kind of vindication for marginalization.
While I still hold that the statesmen who govern us are inherently unreasonable (even the most reasonable are corrupted by the system simply to survive the system), and are therefore immune to any such reasonable remedies, in Crosswhite’s utopia, where even the jaded can be redeemed by reason -- a world we’d all prefer to live in, perhaps -- if anything he offers could change our world, this chapter is it.
Of course, with money to be made all over the planet -- government and business in cahoots (by nefarious means or otherwise) -- and with a drowsy America unable to raise its sleepy head in objection (assuming they had an opinion), how many folks in Washington will take the reasonable path, even though they know, thanks to Crosswhite, that they're essentially despots foisting their ways on the defenseless?
Continuing his utopian model for world peace, the author insists on a consistently idealistic means of diplomacy. Argumentation, he says, depends not on our expectation of an interlocutor's having developed "a common human nature," but is essentially "a practice of hope" and a "desire to create," that is, build bridges. Expect the worst, he says, and hope for the best. (186-87) This is rich in wisdom, so far as a utopian model goes. While, by and large, I embrace this myself, politically, this can lead to trouble. In the real world, people tend to follow the notion of saving face, rather than turning the other cheek. The classic situation is the new guy arriving in a prison; the only way to have any peace, it's said, is to confront the biggest, baddest opponent to establish your reputation or end up everyone's punk. In global diplomacy, the same idea holds true. After you get into Vietnam, you don't dare pull out for fear that the whole international community will consider you "weak." How many lives have been lost because leaders couldn't risk looking like a "sissy"?
I would like to ask to what extent we can really adopt Crosswhite's notion that the writing class is "equally uncomfortable" for all participants when some have never really considered the "other," and some, especially minorities, have not only considered it, but may revel in it as a kind of vindication for marginalization.
No comments:
Post a Comment