Newmania – 3: Rules for bloggers?
In the first of his Oxford University Sermons, preached in 1826, when he was only twenty-five years old, and entitled “The Philosophical Temper, First Enjoined by the Gospel,” Newman, before arguing his case, noted that Christians are often accused of impeding the advance of philosophical and scientific knowledge. He admits a certain justice in the indictment:
It must be confessed that the conduct of Christians has sometimes given countenance to these erroneous views respecting the nature and tendency of Revealed Religion. Too much deference has been paid to ancient literature. Admiration of the genius displayed in its writings, an imagination excited by the consideration of its very antiquity, not unfrequently the pride of knowledge and a desire of appearing to be possessed of a treasure which the many do not enjoy, have led men to exalt the sentiments of former ages to the disparagement of modern ideas. With a view, moreover, to increase (as they have supposed) the value and dignity of the sacred volume, others have been induced to set it forth as a depository of all truth, philosophical as well as religious; although St. Paul seems to limit its utility to profitableness for doctrine, reproof, correction, and instruction in righteousness. Others, again, have been too diligent and too hasty in answering every frivolous and isolated objection to the words of Scripture, which has been urged,—nay, which they fancied might possibly be urged,—from successive discoveries in science; too diligent, because their minute solicitude has occasioned them to lose sight of the Christian Evidence as a whole, and to magnify the objection, as if (though it were unanswerable) it could really weigh against the mass of argument producible on the other side; and too hasty because, had they been patient, succeeding discoveries would perhaps of themselves have solved for them the objection, without the interference of a controversialist. The ill consequences of such a procedure are obvious: the objection has been recognized as important, while the solution offered has too often been inadequate or unsound. To feel jealous and appear timid, on witnessing the enlargement of scientific knowledge, is almost to acknowledge that there may be some contrariety between it and Revelation….
The last of these tendencies, various forms of superficial concordism, is the sort of thing that Aquinas warned is likely to incur the irrisio infidelium [the mockery of unbelievers] when they conclude that Christians hold their beliefs for ridiculous reasons. (One thinks of creationism, or efforts to equate the six days of creation with geological epochs.)
That said, the sermon goes on to argue that the moral dispositions urged by Christianity encourage the development of the intellectual skills and habits needed for science and philosophy, and he offers a description of them that might even be considered to describe the temper needed by debaters on the internet:
It is by a tedious discipline that the mind is taught to overcome those baser principles which impede it in philosophical investigation, and to moderate those nobler faculties and feelings which are prejudicial when in excess. To be dispassionate and cautious, to be fair in discussion, to give to each phenomenon which nature successively presents its due weight, candidly to admit those which militate against our own theory, to be willing to be ignorant for a time, to submit to difficulties, and patiently and meekly proceed, waiting for farther light, is a temper (whether difficult or not at this day) little known to the heathen world; yet it is the only temper in which we can hope to become interpreters of nature, and it is the very temper which Christianity sets forth as the perfection of our moral character.
Not just for bloggers. I suggest we apply this to parish life.
Cardinal Newman would make a great Patron Saint of Catholic Education including Catholic Universities. We certainly could use his wisdom in the creation of a new Land of Lakes Statement:-)
What a notion, Fr. Komonchak! Sober blogging! I’d better start watching my p’s and q’s.
Newman prescribes the practice of the familiar intellectual and moral virtues, which are gifts of the Spirit also, are they not? Should be easy, but we seem also to have the flesh always with us and activating the vices opposed to those virtues. (Yes, I have been reading Romans.) I wonder if Newman always followed his so elegantly worded prescriptions. (I have also been reading Terry Eagleton.)
Bernard Dauenhauer, you have nothing to worry about, as you are a model blogger already, wise and thoughtful and temperate, and well informed.
But Newman’s advice might be especially helpful to those in high ecclesiastical office tempted to respond in haste (and with the public voice of authority) to errors they spot in the behavior of others. Allowing themselves time to reflect, to do their homework, to listen, have some dialogue– not a bad idea at all.
I think most people on this blog would readily subscribe to Newman’s guidelines. But there are still difficulties. It’s not entirely unlike making pie crust out of flour, butter, salt and water, and sometimes sugar. There is a lot of “not too much” and “not to little”.
These oblique calls for civility always sound sound real nice–and I’m all for sticking with the topic at hand (unless it’s about floppy disks or William Shatner) and refraining from ad hominems as much as possible.
But, while it may be possible to make an edible pie crust with butter, anybody who ever knew my Aunt Agnes knows that the best pie crust is made with lard, which, like any argument worth consuming, involves a process that requires a good deal of experience, mess, and exhausting labor to render.
Jean: My sister Bernie will never even try to make a pie without lard. She was at a store a year or two ago, with lard in hand, and a young woman said: “Don’t you know that that’s just pig grease.” “Yes,” Bernie replied, “and it makes the best pies!” And then there was that first course I had at a monastery in Italy, grissini con lardo–breadsticks with lard–and it was delicious, or was it the special wine that made it so good?
For what it’s worth (and not to change the subject) Julia Child’s recipe, part butter, part lard, is perfection–and not that messy or exhausting–unless of course you have to kill the pig and render the fat. In that case,……
“To be dispassionate and cautious, to be fair in discussion… is the very temper which Christianity sets forth as the perfection of our moral character.”
Doesn’t that also happen to be what the British value? Says Kipling:
“If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
…
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And – which is more – you’ll be a Man my son!”
Just trying to riff on Joseph Gannon’s pie crust analogy by noting that good arguments, like rendering lard, take a fair amount of effort and aren’t necessarily pretty to watch (saw my gramma in the process a couple of times, and I thought plucking a chicken was bad), though the results are sometimes worth the trouble.
I have concocted out of memory of what it was like in Roman restaurants a recipe for Fettuccine Alfredo, which people have asked me for. But it’s one of those: How much cream? How much cheese?–Enough. Until it tastes right” things. Don’t many recipes say: Season to taste. You need to know what it’s supposed to taste like.
So also “to be dispassionate and cautious, to be fair in discussion, to give to each phenomenon which nature successively presents its due weight, candidly to admit those which militate against our own theory, to be willing to be ignorant for a time, to submit to difficulties, and patiently and meekly proceed, waiting for farther light” are good arrows pointing in the direction of courteous and profitable conversation, but they don’t substitute for, only encouorage, the habits of attentiveness, intelligence, reason, and responsibility.
“to be willing to be ignorant for a time”
Strikes me that that’s pretty much a lifetime condition for us humans. Which raises a lot of questions about why people argue at all.
It seems to me that a lot of the heat in arguments derives from our having carefully constructed some sort of sense of life, which we often raise up to the level of truth (or even Truth, as Nancy Danielson puts it). And does anybody really want to ditch what they’ve carefully, perhaps painfully, constructed and admit they’re wrong?
On the other hand, that’s what conversion is, and why, in my experience, it’s such a pain in the neck. You acknowledge the sense you’ve made of things is a hash. This comes with a fair amount of humliation b/c it means you’ve done a lot of really stupid, perhaps even bad things, that don’t fit with the new sense. You have to wait the rest of your life for the larger truth to take shape–a truth that doesn’t always make sense or tally with what you’ve seen of life so far–though as a human you will never truly see the whole shape, and you’ll never know if you’ve got it right.
Ardent, long-time supporters of the new truth come along and preach at you and make you feel even stupider, and, even when they’re right (which they aren’t, always), you can’t help resenting their rubbing it in.
I had to improvise this when I had unexpected guests at the last minute and a batch of fettucine alfredo went horribly wrong:
1 can evaporated milk (whole or skim)
8 oz. gorgonzola cheese, crumbled
1/4 cup toasted walnut bits (optional)
Enough fettucine for four servings
Put the milk and cheese in a heavy skillet and heat on medium, stirring constantly, while you boil up the fettucine. It will take the milk and cheese 15 minutes or more to meld and thicken, but you CANNOT turn up the heat for any reason whatever, or stop stirring it, however much your legs ache, or you’re getting bored, or you’re sick of stirring. Give it up to God and be glad it’s not polenta, which takes even longer and is a pain to clean out of the pot.
DO NOT mix the fettucine in with the sauce as Raber insists on doing. Put the fettucine on the plate, ladle the sauce on it, and top with the walnuts.
Eat this with a side of baby spinach salad with raisins and mandarin oranges. No need for dressing b/c of the oranges.
New Orleans food isn’t as good as it used to be either. Too much pepper in too many things is what has ruined it.
I wonder if there is a correlation between the amount of pepper we now add and the incivility that is endemic. Peper shouts down everything else and is painful to boot. Why do people enjoy this? Have we turned masochists?
“New Orleans food isn’t as good as it used to be either.”
I’m betting it still beats a Michigan pasty.
I really shouldn’t make such wide generalizations about our food. It’s just that real cheap food here used to be quite good, but now it’s gone the corner-cutting route and relies too much on pepper, which is cheap.
But I’ll bet Michigan pasties are a lot better than New Orleans pasties. Baking here was never much good, exept for old-fashioned New Orleans French bread — which isn’t made any more. But we still have Hubig’s pies. I hear that on the TV series Treme’ they’re often mentioned fondly. They’re the ultimate comfort food. and they’re AWFUL and they ALWAYS WERE awful. So be grateful for your pasties :-)
JR: “It seems to me that a lot of the heat in arguments derives from our having carefully constructed some sort of sense of life, which we often raise up to the level of truth (or even Truth, as Nancy Danielson puts it). And does anybody really want to ditch what they’ve carefully, perhaps painfully, constructed and admit they’re wrong?”
And the opposite is true as well…our interlocutor (to use a neutral term) has the same sense…and amazingly they are often wrong. What then?
Ms. S. –
Below is a quotation from a conversation between some very bright young atheist psychologists which was sponsored recently by the site Edge. There site includes about a half-dozen fascinating papers on the biological sources of morality. Of course, they all seek to found our failures in the mind (i.e., brain), but that is their bias. Still their work looks illuminating. For the conversation go to:
http://www.edge.org/3rd_culture/morality10/morality.haidt.html
One of the most important topics (mysteries) is the confirmation bias, which is about your question: why is it so hard to change our minds? Here’s a bit of a conversation from the conference:
Why is the confirmation bias, in particular— this is the most damaging one of all—why is the confirmation bias so ineradicable? That is, why do people automatically search for evidence to support whatever they start off believing, and why is it impossible to train them to undo that? It’s almost impossible. Nobody’s found a way to teach critical thinking that gets people to automatically reflect on, well, what’s wrong with my position?
And finally, why is reasoning so biased and motivated whenever self-interest or self-presentation are at stake? Wouldn’t it be adaptive to know the truth in social situations, before you then try to manipulate?
The answer, according to Mercier and Sperber, is that reasoning was not designed to pursue the truth. Reasoning was designed by evolution to help us win arguments. That’s why they call it The Argumentative Theory of Reasoning. So, as they put it, and it’s here on your handout, “The evidence reviewed here shows not only that reasoning falls quite short of reliably delivering rational beliefs and rational decisions. It may even be, in a variety of cases, detrimental to rationality. Reasoning can lead to poor outcomes, not because humans are bad at it, but because they systematically strive for arguments that justify their beliefs or their actions. This explains the confirmation bias, motivated reasoning, and reason-based choice, among other things.”
Now, the authors point out that we can and do re-use our reasoning abilities. We’re sitting here at a conference. We’re reasoning together. We can re-use our argumentative reasoning for other purposes. But even there, it shows the marks of its heritage. Even there, our thought processes tend towards confirmation of our own ideas. Science works very well as a social process, when we can come together and find flaws in each other’s reasoning. We can’t find the problems in our own reasoning very well. But, that’s what other people are for, is to criticize us. And together, we hope the truth comes out.
But the private reasoning of any one scientist is often deeply flawed, because reasoning can be counted on to seek justification and not truth. The problem is especially serious in moral psychology, where we all care so deeply and personally about what is right and wrong, and where we are almost all politically liberal. I don’t know of any Conservatives. I do know of a couple of people in moral psychology who don’t call themselves liberal. I think, Roy, are you one? Not to out you, but … (Laughter).