Much to my disappointment, I notice that I, on occasion, passionately hold opinions about matters of which I have little to no knowledge. On these occasions, when I come upon a view contrary to my own, I almost instinctively draw my sword, raise the banner, and launch a thousand ships, ready to battle in a fit of Homeric rage. Of course, my opponent has but to breathe the slightest breath in support of his position, and my sword is shattered, my banner is torn, and my fleet is lost to the stormy sea. I retreat and seek shelter in the labyrinths of Wikipedia or Google, hoping against hope that I might find some posthumous support for my uninformed opinion.
I take some comfort in knowing I am not alone. Walking down the street in my neighborhood would bring me into the presence of people who hold adamant and various views on climate change but who couldn’t tell me the difference between climate and weather. I would not have to look far to find advocates and opponents of same sex marital unions who couldn’t tell each other anything substantial about the institution of marriage. I need only peruse the Internet for a short while to come across defenders and detractors of socialism who couldn’t precisely define social without the aid of a dictionary.
Why am I known, on occasion, to spout uninformed comment? Looking back on such occasions, I observe that I have sometimes repeated the views of someone I trusted without bothering to understand those views. I find myself hearing an opinion that suits me well, that perhaps fits with my fashionable worldview, and, because I hold the speaker or writer as an authority, I put in on and wear it with pride. If asked where my new suit was made, I am at a loss. If questioned about the fabric, I cannot say with certainty, though I might hazard a guess based on the feel. If asked why I wear the suit, I can at most respond by saying that I got it from an authoritative tailor who sews only those fabrics of the good and true. I’m not always right about this tailor, though.
My wife and I watched the movie Thank You for Smoking over the weekend. In the film, the protagonist, a smooth-talking lobbyist played by Aaron Eckhart, discusses argumentation with his school-age son. He shows him that some arguments you can’t win the conventional way, so you have to switch from debating the agreed upon subject and show instead that your opponent is wrong in some larger sense. While his son defends chocolate ice-cream as the best and all he needs, he admits to needing more than chocolate, more than even vanilla. He says he needs freedom, choice when it comes to ice-cream, liberty. “But that's not what we're talking about,” his son objects. “Ah! But that's what I'm talking about,” Eckhart’s character retorts. He then explains to his son that to win the argument, he didn’t need to prove that vanilla was better than chocolate, he only needed to show that his son was wrong because he opposed liberty. “But you still didn't convince me,” his son remarks. “It’s not you I’m after. I'm after them.”
I would like to say that I am never susceptible to such rhetorical tricks, that my mind always and everywhere functions in a logical and analytic manner. I would like to say that I am never one of “them,” but I cannot say that truthfully. I have fallen for fallacious reasoning because I liked the conclusion. I have shouted statements to the heavens without having done the work to determine if they are true. I have sought attention by agreeing with what sounded like it could be true. Yes, to my disappointment, I am, on occasion, one of them.
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