think/feel
Am I about to sound crusty? Maybe so...but I am going to hazzard a description of how one little thing has changed in the past decade.
Ten years ago when I was lazily chasing a BA in creative writing at Ohio University I remember classroom discussion containing the usual steamy pile of academic poopy, politically correct disclaimers and monochramatic musings. I can report to you that, after a year and a half back at school (this time not as lazy a chase and for a masters degree now) that same pablum persists. But I've noticed one significant change (and pehaps this is due to my lack of perception in my first go around, but I don't think so.) The change is in how students begin their arguments these days.
My fellow students (many are a decade my junior) often say things like: "I feel like Margaret Meade's point of view was really skewed by the era she wrote in," or "I feel like Christopher Hitchens' argument breaks down when he changes tone on the fourth page." Notice how they start off with "I feel" instead of "I think."
It seems like a little thing at first until you look closely at how ingenious a rhetorical move it really is --and what a stiffling effect it has on learning through discourse.
See, when you begin an assertion with "I think" -- or if you skip the preamble positioning altogether -- then you bear the burden of constructing some kind of logical argument based upon reason and facts and rationality. Of course, such an argument is hard to construct. It takes work. And worst of all, it can be assailed by someone more reasonable, more well-equipped with the facts, or nimble with rhetoric.
On the other hand, when you begin a statement with "I feel," you have secured your argument behind a fortress of ad hominem. Anything someone says contrary to your point is then attacking your feelings, and since we all have a right to our feelings -- which needn't be based on reason or facts -- their attack is automatically ad hominem. Even if the assailent makes valid points against your "feeling," his position is in trouble because you can always retreat to your castle of feelings by saying "well, that's just the way I feel."
Brilliant really, and yet totally suffocating.
It's no wonder that much of what happens in class is a series of these feeling assertions and then agreement or a change of subject -- it's hard to go deep into a debate about any one thing or another when the conversation is like an unarmed crusade travelling between fortresses.
So what am I going to do about it? Well, for one, I'll use the damn tactic when I feel like it! And when I come up against it I'll ask probing questions. Ultimately, that's the best offense against the "I feel" tactic. Just keep on asking questions about the feelings until the person's argument breaks down or holds up or whatever. It doesn't make sense to refute someone's feelings (afterall, how can you refute the way someone feels?) but you may be able to expose contradictions and gaps by asking the right questions.
Alas, that's just a little, but insidious, change I've noticed recently. I feel like this could represent an erosion of our societry's ability to learn from one another.
-----
In another note, last week the class went out for an end-of-the-term drink with Christopher Hitchens, who co-taught my class. It pleased me that I had the chance to talk with him one on one for abojut 20 minutes as we walked to the bar since I'd had to miss two of his four classes due to IBM obligations.
The best part is that when we placed our order at the Waverly Tavern my peers all ordered this and that martini or cosmo or whatever and I ordered a Black Label on the rocks. Hitchens said something to the effect of "now that's a good drink" and ordered a Black Label too. I guess we admire/personify/perpetuate the same writerly stereotypes.
Ten years ago when I was lazily chasing a BA in creative writing at Ohio University I remember classroom discussion containing the usual steamy pile of academic poopy, politically correct disclaimers and monochramatic musings. I can report to you that, after a year and a half back at school (this time not as lazy a chase and for a masters degree now) that same pablum persists. But I've noticed one significant change (and pehaps this is due to my lack of perception in my first go around, but I don't think so.) The change is in how students begin their arguments these days.
My fellow students (many are a decade my junior) often say things like: "I feel like Margaret Meade's point of view was really skewed by the era she wrote in," or "I feel like Christopher Hitchens' argument breaks down when he changes tone on the fourth page." Notice how they start off with "I feel" instead of "I think."
It seems like a little thing at first until you look closely at how ingenious a rhetorical move it really is --and what a stiffling effect it has on learning through discourse.
See, when you begin an assertion with "I think" -- or if you skip the preamble positioning altogether -- then you bear the burden of constructing some kind of logical argument based upon reason and facts and rationality. Of course, such an argument is hard to construct. It takes work. And worst of all, it can be assailed by someone more reasonable, more well-equipped with the facts, or nimble with rhetoric.
On the other hand, when you begin a statement with "I feel," you have secured your argument behind a fortress of ad hominem. Anything someone says contrary to your point is then attacking your feelings, and since we all have a right to our feelings -- which needn't be based on reason or facts -- their attack is automatically ad hominem. Even if the assailent makes valid points against your "feeling," his position is in trouble because you can always retreat to your castle of feelings by saying "well, that's just the way I feel."
Brilliant really, and yet totally suffocating.
It's no wonder that much of what happens in class is a series of these feeling assertions and then agreement or a change of subject -- it's hard to go deep into a debate about any one thing or another when the conversation is like an unarmed crusade travelling between fortresses.
So what am I going to do about it? Well, for one, I'll use the damn tactic when I feel like it! And when I come up against it I'll ask probing questions. Ultimately, that's the best offense against the "I feel" tactic. Just keep on asking questions about the feelings until the person's argument breaks down or holds up or whatever. It doesn't make sense to refute someone's feelings (afterall, how can you refute the way someone feels?) but you may be able to expose contradictions and gaps by asking the right questions.
Alas, that's just a little, but insidious, change I've noticed recently. I feel like this could represent an erosion of our societry's ability to learn from one another.
-----
In another note, last week the class went out for an end-of-the-term drink with Christopher Hitchens, who co-taught my class. It pleased me that I had the chance to talk with him one on one for abojut 20 minutes as we walked to the bar since I'd had to miss two of his four classes due to IBM obligations.
The best part is that when we placed our order at the Waverly Tavern my peers all ordered this and that martini or cosmo or whatever and I ordered a Black Label on the rocks. Hitchens said something to the effect of "now that's a good drink" and ordered a Black Label too. I guess we admire/personify/perpetuate the same writerly stereotypes.
Labels: argue, black label, discourse, feel, hitchens, new school, reason, think
posted by Ethan at 9:30 PM
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