Editor’s Note: We hope you enjoy this bonus/encore article from the May issue of The Worldview Bulletin.
Why “Crushing” Our Philosophical Opponents Is a Losing Strategy
by David Baggett
For a long time as a philosopher I gave little thought to matters of rhetoric, largely because I understood it in terms of sophistry—where the concern was more about projecting an appearance of winning an argument than caring about the truth. Then, far too late, I came across Aristotle on rhetoric, and saw that he distinguished it from sophistry. The guiding idea of rhetoric rightly understood is caring about the truth while also caring about the best ways in which it can be presented—in a way that is actually persuasive rather than off-putting or divisive. So in more recent years I have devoted some thought to what works rhetorically in an effort to facilitate healthy dialogue and honest discussion that is mutually beneficial, especially because we live in contentious times. Partisan divides and ideological battles, culture wars and worldview conflicts seem to dominate the headlines. We need healthier exchanges and less acrimonious debate.
One of the pitfalls that at least a significant swath of philosophers are particularly susceptible to is treating disagreements as always and only about rationality versus irrationality. Such an attitude tends not to lend itself to the most effective rhetorical strategies. If a philosopher—or politician or apologist—communicates not just what he is convinced of and why, but also suggests that others should agree on pain of irrationality, this tends to arouse suspicions of pedantic lack of epistemic humility. Such a style of arguing, however, is normative fare for the internet, in conversations between believers and unbelievers, between opposing political parties and philosophical disputants, and even among Christians who disagree on one matter or another.
It is an understandable temptation, but one, I am convinced, that should be avoided in most every case. Some questions are, as they say, “no-brainers,” but many difficult, complex, and challenging questions admit room for legitimate disagreement. People need to be accorded the space and time they need to think an issue through, and they need the “mental freedom,” as William James called it, to come to their own conclusions. Backing dialogue or debate partners into a corner, pretending to have “crushed” their view, treating them like dolts for not immediately agreeing, conducting a discussion as if it were a game of one-upmanship—or a scorched-earth exercise or a zero-sum-game—with a clear winner and a clear loser, one rational person and one irrational person, only puts people on the defensive, strains relationships, and builds divides.
Recently I started reading a book by Robert Nozick called Philosophical Explanations, which is remarkably insightful on this score. Born in 1938, Nozick trained at Columbia, Princeton, and Oxford, and he taught at Harvard. His best-known book is probably Anarchy, State, and Utopia, which offers an alternative to a Rawlsian account of justice. Philosophical Explanations contains several examples of the irrepressible playfulness Nozick brought to his work in philosophy, as well as an inviting methodology that, I am convinced, Christian believers and thinkers can benefit from immensely.
Nozick can help us see a better way—and a preferable one from a Christian perspective, although Nozick himself was not a believer. He first concedes that often the terminology of philosophical art is coercive. “Arguments are powerful and best when they are knockdown, arguments force you to a conclusion, if you believe the premises you have to or must believe the conclusion, some arguments do not carry much punch, and so forth.”[1] Nozick was viscerally averse to this understanding of philosophy, which he characterized as “bludgeoning.” If instead we approach philosophy intent to learn what we can, he thought, perhaps we should find a better way to do it.
What Nozick preferred to coercive proofs was possible and plausible explanations. He saw his own work in philosophy in this light. Various philosophical matters needed to be explained, and he introduced theories to explain them, to render them coherent and better understood. He was often content with postulating merely possible explanations; indeed, he thought even impossible explanations can be illuminating and instructive, and here he exhibited some of that penchant for philosophical playfulness. Even false hypotheses can offer some understanding. To get at reality requires true hypotheses, but he did not take this to suggest that hypotheses offered as possible explanations of important phenomena have to be antecedently plausible. Such an insistence would preclude philosophy revealing something new and surprising.
This approach emphasizing possible and perhaps even surprising explanations of important truths to be accounted for contrasted, to Nozick’s thinking, with philosophical argument aiming to get someone to believe something whether he wants to believe it or not. The latter, he wrote, is not a nice way to behave toward someone. Nor does a desire to produce uniformity of belief best cohere with the sense of puzzlement and curiosity that initially drives people to do philosophy. A successful proof transmits convictions from premises to conclusion, but an explanation may introduce hypotheses not already believed. And its explanatory power may finally lend support and induce belief, previously absent, in the hypothesis.
Some years ago I often found myself resisting overly deductivist arguments in philosophy and apologetics. Such arguments seemed guilty of overreach, and subject to easier refutation. They also seemed to partake of and reinforce the lamentably pervasive sense of hubris too often manifest in certain intellectual circles. Rather than facilitating dialogue, they seemed to fuel an adversarial mindset, already ubiquitous in our tendentious times. The worst of the most rabid political partisanship seemed to be creeping into apologetics conversations in particular, especially on the internet. This was a profoundly troubling trend—and lately it has only escalated as if on steroids. So I intentionally started moving more toward an abductivist (or “best explanation”) approach to, say, the moral argument for God’s existence. I found that doing so made it easier to find points of convergence, overlap, and resonance with competing ethical theories, and more opportunities for fruitful discussion.
Of late I have begun to see that even a “best explanation” approach can often be hasty. Establishing that a particular hypothesis is the very best of any and every alternative view is quite ambitious—more the goal of a lifetime of work rather than a conference paper or chapter in a book. Even harder to establish is the “best possible explanation,” or “only explanation,” or “only possible explanation.” I know some presuppositionalists or transcendentalists might demur; but fortunately, following my own advice, I need not insist that those who disagree with me are irrational. Incidentally, note that this shows that the problem of overreach is not solved just by shifting to the language of explanation, though I think the move from alleged proof to suggested explanations is a good start.
What I have personally taken to doing, for whatever it is worth, is relaxing a bit when it comes to apologetics specifically and conversations generally. My goal is not to “crush” an opponent, but to listen and learn—and to share what I think and the reasons why—but without insisting that they immediately see it my way. I try to have confidence in the truth to make itself known, to them and to me, and for the Holy Spirit to operate in people’s hearts and minds. I know that I myself am not always immediately convinced by even good arguments. I need not tell people, or even subtly intimate, that if they disagree or remain unpersuaded by my argument, they are silly or stupid, irrational or perverse. Doing such a thing is hardly a good example of loving my neighbor as myself.
I may instead suggest that I think there are principled reasons to think that, for example, God best explains moral goodness or moral duties, moral freedom or moral knowledge, moral transformation or moral rationality, but admit that there is more work to be done to establish such a thing. In fact, there is enough work for a community over a long period of time; good philosophy requires patience. Lately I have even taken to using language like a good explanation, or plausible, or powerful, or persuasive explanation, and then allowing others to weigh the evidence for themselves. I do not think such an approach means we care about truth less, but it does perhaps better avoid burning bridges or giving needless offense. We can, after all, be both rigorous and kind, intellectual and relational, philosophical and loving.
Especially as Christians, we need to strive to be bridge builders who tear down walls, not the ones putting them up. We must not indulge a desire to use truths as bullets with which to shoot people, or baseball bats with which to beat (or bludgeon) them. Speak the truth, the Bible tells us, but in love; without love, even if we know all the mysteries there are to be known, we are merely a resounding gong or clanging cymbal.
Notes
[1] Robert Nozick, Philosophical Explanations (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1981), 4.
— David Baggett is the author or editor of about fifteen books, most recently The Moral Argument: A History, with Jerry Walls. Starting in the fall of 2020 he and his wife will be teaching at Houston Baptist University.
Book Highlight
Everyday Apologetics: Answering Common Objections to the Christian Faith is a very helpful overview of Christian apologetics aimed at those who are new to the subject. The contributors explain the need for apologetics, consider common objections to Christianity (such as suffering, Old Testament violence, and science), and then build a positive case for the trustworthiness of Christian belief (including God’s existence, the resurrection, and meaning in life). For anyone looking for an informative but accessible introduction to apologetics, this is a great place to start.
“Everyday Apologetics offers many practical insights on a host of topics, providing clear guidance for defending one’s faith. This concise handbook on key faith questions can help embolden believers in their witness for Christ.”
— Paul Copan, Pledger Family Chair of Philosophy and Ethics, Palm Beach Atlantic University; author of Is God a Moral Monster?
“Everyday Apologetics will help you investigate and respond to common objections to Christianity so that you can grow in your personal confidence and share the gospel with your friends and neighbors.”
— J. Warner Wallace, Dateline-featured Cold-Case Detective; Speaker and Senior Fellow at the Colson Center for Christian Worldview; author of Cold-Case Christianity
Find Everyday Apologetics at Amazon, Lexham Press (you can get the ebook/Logos version here), and other major booksellers.
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