Chapter Seven. I stink. I really stink



Irene: But did you have to be so unfriendly about it?


T : Yes, I certainly did. It was the only way of breaking past a philosophical stonewalling. The sort of business, where someone crosses his arms, so to speak, and simply says "I disagree", and refuses to acknowledge any points that he has no answer to.

The only truly effective response is to show that he truly doesn't mean what he is saying, and there is no way of doing that and staying friendly. It has to get a little personal. There is no way of getting around the fact that hypocrisy is not a pleasant trait, or of keeping that fact from being glaringly and obtrusively obvious. To observe reality is to attack him, automatically.

Short of that, one is left with a lengthy and circuitous analysis on what the impact of the adoption of an attitude on life is, whether or not that is good, what good is, and why. The hypocrite chooses to be what he is. We don't owe it to him to take such a long and uncertain detour, in order to get to the truth.


Irene: Well, it seems to me that you just think about the issue, but I think of the other person arguing as someone with feelings.


T : As if I did not. The difference is, that you can put the pain of those who would be harmed by Robert's irresponsibility out of your mind, and I can't. When confronted with the negative consequences of your brand of compassion, your answer is either to refuse to think about it, or to place little weight on that pain you are not forced to witness. This isn't compassion, this is weakness of spirit, enabled by a failure of imagination.

It's a question of balance, like most of ethics.

The sort of consideration, where we let a foolish remark stand unchallenged in order to avoid hurting someone's feelings, is the consideration that we extend to a child, which Robert no longer is. He wishes to be taken seriously as an adult, and that must change the way we deal with him. One can't adopt the authority of adulthood, without accepting the burdens that, of necessity, attend it. The consequences of allowing an effective child the influence of an adult would be too unpleasant to contemplate the acceptance of.


Irene: Why do you feel the need to be so unpleasant, so often, in such a variety of cases?


T : Was Robert being civil? You seem to think that I should never be hostile, in any argument.

Why not? Radical feminists, new agers, militant white power advocates and minority bigots alike, the unprincipled rich .... all have been more than willing, if not eager, to use incivility as a tool, and demand that others be civil in return, a demand that places those foolish enough to yield to it, in a position where it almost looks like they're pleading. It is a simple exploitation of a quirk in human psychology. If one is rude, and another polite in return, for a while, those around will react hostily to the rudeness, disliking the discomfort it brings. But should the situation persist, or the one being rude seem to utterly gain the upper hand, people will adjust their attitudes, to rationalise the apparent power structure, and loyalties will reverse, the victim being blamed. Life is so much more comfortable, if one can pretend that life tends to be just, that that which gives the lie to this comforting illusion, will often be angrily overlooked.

By allowing another to abuse one, indefinitely, without response in kind, is to send the subconscious message that such an imbalance of power exists. Sad to say, the bully who is percieved as being successful, is often popular, on a surface level, until he is dethroned, and people find the courage to be honest with themselves again. Eventually, one must have the sense to recognise popular 'wisdom' for the conveniently empty posturing that it is, and have enough respect for oneself to get hostile back.

Turning the other cheek, for the moment, is an expression of patience and concern for one who may be well intentioned, but mislead. Eventually, though, the weight of evidence renders this possibility an implausible one, and even a kind man may strike back.

I refuse to accept an arrangement where others can write rules for me, that they, themselves, may then refuse to be bound by. Noone should. Why have you remained "politely" silent, when members of these factions have elected to argue by throwing tantrums when their positions have been questioned? Where has been your criticism of their incivility? Has politeness become nothing more than a codeword for collective cowardice?


Irene: Do two wrongs make a right?


T : Yes, they do, when the second "wrong" returns a rightful balance to the situation in question.

In refusing to accept this double standard, and asserting my right to practice no greater a level of incivility, that few have been seen criticising those on more fashionable sides of these arguments for practicing, I do no more than assert my right to an even playing field, as our arguments compete for the support of the listener. I refuse to allow others to win, in spite of the weakness of their points, merely through intimidation.


Irene: And what of those who are going to complain that you went after the man, here, and not the argument? You know you're going to hear from them, if you take this tack.


T : What argument? Robert was left standing on nothing but an assertion.

Yes, of course, I know that someone will eventually speak up, to complain about this "ad hominem argument", acting on the common bit of popular wisdom, that holds that "criticism" and "ad hominem" are synonomous.

Wrong. An ad hominem only occurs, when a concrete argument is answered with a commentary on the person making it. And, I would add, with some bitter amusement, that it is something that more than a few of those who push this fallacy, engage in, habitually, on a regular basis.

If the "argument" consists of the offering of a gut reaction, then the character, credentials or reliability of the person offering the argument, in effect ARE the argument, and as such, become a proper subject for discussion. To demand that they not be addressed, at that point, is to make a disingenuous demand to, in effect, leave the reliability of the gut reaction that the others are being persuaded to take as conclusive, unevaluated. To do so, would be intellectually dishonest.

As for what I'm going to do about the stubbornly ignorant - is there anything that really can be done? The rest of us should reach each other on a rational level as best we can, and make it clear to all who can be reasoned with, exactly what it is that these people are, and why one is not making more of an effort to include them in the conversation.


Irene: And what if those people decide not to be as cooperative as you want them to be, and insist on taking part anyway?


T : Then it is time for a little strategic rudeness, in order to be rid of them, so that the rest of us can proceed without being obstructed by their idiocy. The discussion should not be dumbed down to the level of understanding of the most obtuse individual who decides to include himself into it, nor should its progress be stoppable by the veto of every stubborn passerby, who refuses to understand a point.

Sometimes, friendliness is not appropriate.


Irene: And what of those who will be turned off by such an attitude?


T : What of them? They seek to promote a conception of ettiquette that makes the pursuit of the reasoned discussion necessary for the maintenance of a free society, a futile endeavour. In their own sweet sounding way, they're being as obtuse as the people we seek to drive away, and the discussion will benefit from their absence.

To grant what they want would render reasoned discussion impossible, anyway, so what would be the point of appeasing them?


Irene: To avoid being excluded yourself, as the people you reject go off, and form their own, larger, more inclusive discussion.


T : And I am left with the rational minority.


Irene: Leaving their views, the prevailing ones, as they are the ones that most will hear. So, who wins?


T : Except that the discussion of the moment, is not, generally speaking, the last that will ever occur.


Irene: But it may be the only one that some hear for a long, long time, and they might not be inclined to listen once your future discussion with them occurs.


T : And what use do I have for someone who bases his views on the first thing that he hears, then stubbornly refuses to consider changing his mind? If I wished to bash my head into a brick wall, I wouldn't need to travel this far to find one.

It is the nature of human society, that people will tend to break into subgroups based on compatibility of values, customs, attitudes, and, I suppose, probably on race as well, as little as we like to hear that. To attempt to do away with association based on the first three, though, is to reduce conversation to a cyclical futility, in which no progress is ever made, because nothing is ever granted as being part of the consensus.

Those who live rationally, will often live better, and others will notice, and often get lured into their camp. Robert's position, here, should prove a classic example of this. It is one bound, should it be accepted, to lead to a string of senseless tragedies, because people will simply cease to take the care needed to avoid them. Stay visible, and keep people conscious of the arguments against his position, and many will eventually come around. But, for the opportunity for others to join one's camp to be present, one has to have a camp to join. If one is allowing others to put brick walls in the way of the process of discussion that establishes that camp in the first place, the array of arguments that others would, later, be persuaded by, will never come into existence, and that opportunity will be absent.

Sometimes, one has to take the longer view.

As for those who truly can't be reached on this issue - the suicidal tend to be short on descendents. This is not a happy thought, but we never had a chance to save them, anyway. One doesn't get to work with the options one wants, merely with the ones that one has remaining. Those who will not be reasonable, will simply have to be written off as a dead loss. In a manner of speaking.


Irene: ... leaving their viewpoint with a shortage of people that it has been passed down to, in the long run. Sweet.

Doesn't this make your challenge to Robert more devious than philosophical? If he, and those who think like him, die, who will be left to argue their point of view?


T : Why should anyone be left to do so? Why would it matter?

You assume that if nonexistence is good for one, it must be good for all. No, that which is desirable for one, may very well be undesirable for another, for all we know, as desirability of a thing, is defined by the nature of the one doing the desiring. If oblivion would truly be preferable to existence for one of Robert's supporters, as a matter of fact, and not merely posturing or unexamined assumption, then let him pass into it, and make more room for those to whom existence would be a blessing. All would be best served by such a transaction.

But, somehow I doubt that such a person is to be found. I would think that natural selection would have eliminated the trait a long time ago. Like I said, the suicidal tend to leave few descendents, and such a person would be stongly nudged in that direction, by the mere nature of his existence.

As for those of us remaining, when those to whom existence is a curse are no more - why should anyone remain to convince us of what, for us, would be a falsehood? Besides which, if one proceeeds from the assumption, that what Robert seems to consider to be a common state, actually is, one would have to conclude that Robert's camp would not be running out of people for the forseeable future. If Robert is wrong, yet sincere, or even right - for himself, then what we've heard from him is merely an irrelevant, albeit tragic autobiographical detail, and there is no reason for those not so afflicted to spend much time thinking about it.


continue