My OperaMy imaginary foes...
Friday, September 29, 2006 4:33:12 AM
... are ostensibly rational. And so, just as I am always forced to admit that I could be wrong, I must also consider the possibility that my argument does not appear clearly, as well as that the argument itself does not stand any amount of scrutiny.
My real foes do not have this problem - to seek the fundamental disagreement, if it exists, and if for no other reason than to understand better how the opposing view came into being, is simply not interesting. To question the fundament of your own convictions in order to know they are sound, is simply not necessary. Because, obviously, they are fundamental convictions. And they must always be sound, and those who oppose them must be misled or otherwise corrupt or deceitful, or simply fundamentally too different - just as much as these fundamental convictions must be good and right.
But, looking at my premises, I am forced to consider how truthful and consistent they are. Is it not possible that my general concept is flawed in some way? For instance, am I not myself saying that these convictions are true? In demanding that I always question my convictions, am I deliberately making the case that I cannot be wrong?
Of course I am. But from this, I could perhaps conclude that I have not discovered a flaw in the argument, but the fundamental key to the sound application of the principle I have just described. If, in fact, I can question my convictions, there must be something to question. So at this first layer, I have discovered a simple difference between the approaches - will I seek to question, or will I not seek to question at all.
But either choice, obviously, will lead me to decide I am always correct. Still, when questioning, I will probably have to accept sooner or later that in order to come to any conclusion at all, I will have to dismiss what I consider beyond the relatively reasonable. Does this then mean the difference between the fundamental dismissal of all unwanted information and my questioning approach is simply one of degrees? Of the effort in which you put into your conclusion, perhaps?
Why, yes, and I must describe the process in the particular, so the application of the principle can be examined. And so we come to the conclusion: without sufficient description of the argument, the presumption of it's reasonableness cannot be sound. In other words, if a conclusion happened to be correct, but not correctly described, it would not at all be possible to consider it reasonable. It would be a matter of faith.
My real foes do not have this problem - to seek the fundamental disagreement, if it exists, and if for no other reason than to understand better how the opposing view came into being, is simply not interesting. To question the fundament of your own convictions in order to know they are sound, is simply not necessary. Because, obviously, they are fundamental convictions. And they must always be sound, and those who oppose them must be misled or otherwise corrupt or deceitful, or simply fundamentally too different - just as much as these fundamental convictions must be good and right.
But, looking at my premises, I am forced to consider how truthful and consistent they are. Is it not possible that my general concept is flawed in some way? For instance, am I not myself saying that these convictions are true? In demanding that I always question my convictions, am I deliberately making the case that I cannot be wrong?
Of course I am. But from this, I could perhaps conclude that I have not discovered a flaw in the argument, but the fundamental key to the sound application of the principle I have just described. If, in fact, I can question my convictions, there must be something to question. So at this first layer, I have discovered a simple difference between the approaches - will I seek to question, or will I not seek to question at all.
But either choice, obviously, will lead me to decide I am always correct. Still, when questioning, I will probably have to accept sooner or later that in order to come to any conclusion at all, I will have to dismiss what I consider beyond the relatively reasonable. Does this then mean the difference between the fundamental dismissal of all unwanted information and my questioning approach is simply one of degrees? Of the effort in which you put into your conclusion, perhaps?
Why, yes, and I must describe the process in the particular, so the application of the principle can be examined. And so we come to the conclusion: without sufficient description of the argument, the presumption of it's reasonableness cannot be sound. In other words, if a conclusion happened to be correct, but not correctly described, it would not at all be possible to consider it reasonable. It would be a matter of faith.
