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The Great Idea of Dialectic, by Mortimer J.
Adler, Ph.D. (Continued)
III. Dialectical neutrality
Neutrality is not a virtue exclusively possessed
or displayed by the dialectician. It is exercised
by others who do not normally look upon themselves
in that way. It is, for example, a virtue which the
encyclopedist regards as a necessity of his
profession; it is also displayed by the historian
of ideas who wishes to preserve the purity of his
historical approach to controversial subjects by
maintaining his detachment from the truth or
falsity of the theories, of which he aims to give
only a historical account. Though the encyclopedist
and the historian are not professed dialecticians,
the neutrality they try to achieve is,
nevertheless, like that of the
professional.[7]
Nor is impartiality an ideal only for those who
are aged in reporting other men's thought. It is
also the ideal of the thinker, insofar as he is
concerned with the thought of other men in relation
to his own. This holds for every field -- history
and science as well as theology and philosophy.
Anyone who proposes a theory for which he claims
truth is obligated to consider the rival claims of
other theories. Wherever such rivalry makes anyone
a partisan for the view he holds against the
partisan views held by others, such partisanship
needs to be supplemented by impartiality in order
to get at what is dialectically true about the
disputed matters.
Some philosophers have shown themselves able to
achieve a modicum of impartiality in their
understanding of theories they reject. Such
impartiality, whenever and to whatever extent it is
achieved, is akin to the neutrality that is
essential to the dialectician. In a sense, the
philosopher who manages to be impartial in his
treatment of theories he rejects as false does so
by functioning like a dialectician. It may be
thought that in this respect he does not differ
from the historian of ideas or the encyclopedist
who also manages to be impartial toward the views
he is considering. But to say no more than this
would be to overlook a crucially significant
difference between them.
The historian of ideas and the encyclopedist are
not as such engaged in propounding
philosophical theories of their own. But the
philosopher, precisely in virtue of being a
philosopher, takes that to be his principal task.
To combine being a philosopher with being something
of a dialectician requires the individual, who
would try to do both, to overcome a tension between
two different kinds of work that does not exist in
the case of the historian and the encyclopedist.
That is why it is more difficult for one man to be
both a philosopher and a dialectician or, what is
even harder, to be equally good at both tasks.
Hence it can be said that the pursuit of truth
requires a division of labor, not only to get the
dialectical task itself done well, but also to
enable philosophers, assisted by the independent
work of dialecticians, to achieve more fully the
impartiality that philosophers themselves
acknowledge as ideal.[8]
But we are here concerned with quite another
problem, the reverse of the problem of combining
partisanship with impartiality. The question is
whether impartiality can be separated from all
partisanship. There are really two questions here.
(1) Does the dialectician's effort to be neutral
require him to be totally without any doctrinal
commitments, totally devoid of any point of view of
his own? And (2) can anyone who is concerned with
truth be so completely detached or open-minded?
Let us acknowledge at once that a completely
open mind is the mind of an infant, not a man. To
be completely without commitments is an unearthly
and inhuman state of intellectual innocence. Since
the dialectician is ordinary flesh and blood, the
answer to the first question cannot be that
dialectical neutrality requires the dialectician as
a person to achieve absolute point-of-viewlessness
or complete detachment from every vestige of
philosophical doctrine. There is no reason why a
man who engages in dialectical work should not have
philosophical views of his own. In fact, if
philosophizing is the general vocation of every man
regardless of his more specialized profession, the
man who engages in dialectical work is no more
exempt from this common calling than is the
physician or the engineer, the scientist or the
historian.
Nor can there be any question whether it is
possible for the dialectician to achieve the
neutrality requisite for his work in spite of his
own personal philosophical views, whatever they may
be. We have already affirmed that, though
difficult, it is certainly possible for the
philosopher to combine an impartial understanding
of his adversaries with partisanship for his own
point of view.
In one sense, it should be easier for the
dialectician, because he is more nearly in the
position of the engineer or the physician.
Philosophizing may be his vocation as a man, but it
is not part of his work. He can perform his tasks
as a dialectician, just as the engineer and the
physician can perform their professional duties,
without having to be active partisans for a
particular philosophical point of view. The
professional philosopher, on the other hand, cannot
do his work without being an active partisan for
the philosophical theories or doctrines he holds to
be true.
In another sense, the dialectician faces a
greater difficulty. Impartiality may be an ultimate
ideal for the philosopher to aim at, but he can do
his work without achieving it or even if he only
approximates it to some degree. As history amply
shows, a man may be a great philosopher in the
originality and power of his work and, at the same
time, have failed signally to combine impartiality
with his partisanship. Impartiality, in other
words, is an ideal for the philosopher, not a basic
necessity. But it is a basic necessity for the
dialectician, not an ideal. Unless he can maintain
neutrality throughout every phase of his work, he
cannot produce the result his method aims at.
These things being so, the problem is not
whether the dialectician can maintain the
neutrality that is indispensable to his work in
spite of having some philosophy of his own. The
real problem is whether the assumptions implicit in
the dialectician's method and aim bring him
inevitably into conflict with certain points of
view. If that were the case, then the very use of
the method itself would elicit from certain
quarters the charge that the dialectician cannot
accommodate all points of view without prejudice or
embarrassment to some of them, at least.
To estimate the seriousness of this problem, let
us consider a few of the most obvious cases in
which the exponent of a certain point of view might
object to the dialectician's attempt to treat his
doctrine, on the grounds that the dialectical
method itself inevitably violates its
integrity.
The extreme skeptic, for example, might say that
the dialectical method assumes that incompatible
positions cannot both be true and that, when these
are contradictory, one must be true and the other
false. This assumption the extreme skeptic rejects.
According to his position on truth, either no
opinion is true or false or all opinions are
equally true or equally false. If the dialectician
were to construct the controversy implicit in the
discussion of truth itself, the skeptical position
would be one he would have to represent on certain
basic issues. But this, the skeptic claims, is
precisely what he cannot do, at least not fairly,
because his method requires him to treat the
skeptic's position as if it were either true or
false. To treat it that way is to misrepresent the
skeptic's intention.
The trouble is not that the dialectician as a
person holds a point of view contrary to that of
the skeptic. The fact that he personally holds a
theory of democracy, law, or freedom that is
contrary to certain points of view represented in
the controversies on those subjects need not
prevent him from preserving neutrality in his
treatment of them. However difficult that may be,
humanly speaking, it is by no means impossible. But
if his method itself requires him to override or
distort what is essential to a doctrine, like that
of the skeptic, then it is absolutely impossible
for him to apply that method to the doctrine and at
the same time to claim that the doctrine has been
treated with the requisite neutrality.[9]
The mystic, to take another example, might raise
an objection more general than the skeptic's. He
might say that the dialectical method assumes that
discursive thought is the only approach to knowing
the truth. It is, therefore, able to deal only with
thought that proceeds in terms of definitions and
propositions, premises and conclusions, and the
whole apparatus of analysis and reasoning or
argumentation. But the mystic's approach to reality
is by intuition or vision -- an immediate grasp of
the whole without analysis or dissection of any
sort, a knowledge of truth that can be expressed
without resort to any of the logical articulations
involved in discursive thought. Hence if the
dialectician were to construct a controversy about
any subject on which the mystic claims to have
insight, he could not represent what the mystic
claims to know without distorting it. The
dialectical method itself would make it impossible
for him to be fair in his treatment of the
mystic.
In the foregoing example, the conflict seems to
be one between the general methodological
assumptions of the dialectician and a methodology
(if one can speak of the "method" of a mystic) that
denies those assumptions. The mystic is not the
only one who might raise an objection of this sort.
A similar objection might be raised by any
philosopher whose method involves a logic which
either transforms or transcends the principles of
ordinary logic, such as the familiar "laws of
thought" -- the laws of identity, excluded middle,
and contradiction.
The objecting philosopher can with justice point
out that the logic of controversy, which underlies
the dialectician's method of constructing one,
presupposes (a) that a subject of discussion can be
identified and thereafter retain its identity
unchanged throughout a prolonged and varied
consideration of it; (b) that the answers to a
given question are either compatible or
incompatible; and (c) that if they are
incompatible, either they are contradictory and so
exclude a middle ground, or they are not and so
permit other alternatives. But according to the
method of the objecting philosopher, contradictory
positions are seldom if ever exhaustive and
exclusive. Their antithetical points can be
reconciled in a synthesis that embraces both and
includes the partial truths they represent.
Therefore, by its acknowledged logical
assumptions, the dialectical method inevitably
violates a philosophy whose method does not honor
those assumptions. In constructing any controversy
in which that philosophy should be treated as an
important point of view, the dialectician cannot
accord it the treatment its own method demands.
Closely related to the objection just considered
is the objection of the philosopher who insists
that the only way his doctrine can be understood is
as a whole. To treat any part of it in isolation as
a position which can be understood in separation
from the systematic context of the whole is to
distort the meaning of that part. Yet the
dialectician's method of constructing a controversy
requires him always to represent the position an
author takes on a particular issue, in isolation
from that author's whole philosophy. He can never
bring an author's whole philosophy to bear on a
particular issue. In constructing each issue, he
can only formulate positions that are opposed
answers to the particular question at issue. He
must, therefore, do injustice to any philosophy
whose proponent insists that his views on
particular subjects cannot be fairly treated when
they are wrenched from the whole of which they are
integral parts.[10]
Finally, since the dialectician's method
involves him in dealing with the language of
thinkers, not for its own sake but for the sake of
comparing their thought, he may meet objections
from still another quarter. Concerning language in
relation to thought or meaning, the presuppositions
of his method are (a) that men can have the same
conceptions or meanings in mind even when they use
quite different words; (b) that they can have
different conceptions or meanings in mind even when
they use the same words; and (c) that it is
possible to discover which is the case from the way
in which they employ whatever words they use. In
addition, that phase of his method by which he
identifies general subjects of discussion, like
democracy, freedom, or law, assumes that the words
that name such subjects refer to objects of thought
that have reality.
These assumptions underlying his method might be
challenged by those who hold that language can be
made to serve as a medium of emotional or practical
communication, but that it sets up an almost
insuperable barrier to intellectual communication;
and who, in addition, maintain that when words do
not refer to particular things, they can only refer
to other words or to fictions in the mind itself.
From their point of view, the dialectical method
rests on a questionable metaphysics if it assumes
that two men who are discussing democracy, for
example, are referring to anything other than the
word itself or the ideas each has in his own
mind.
It might be said in reply that the method of the
semanticist also rests on a questionable
metaphysics if it assumes that when two men are
talking and thinking about democracy in general,
there is no reality whatsoever to which their words
and conceptions refer (except, perhaps, such
particular things as the democracy of Athens or of
the United States, which they were not
discussing). But far from removing the objection,
this reply makes it clear. The semanticist's
objection is precisely that the dialectical method
cannot impartially treat his view of language and
thought, since the dialectician's use of language
rests on a contrary view. In constructing
controversies on subjects to which the
semanticist's view might be relevant, the
dialectician cannot use his method and still remain
neutral to all relevant points of view.
The foregoing examples of conflict between
certain points of view and points of view implicit
in the dialectical method itself may not exhaust
all the typical cases in which the dialectician's
neutrality seems to be destroyed or impaired by his
own method. But even if an exhaustive enumeration
of such cases had been made, it would still
represent a small set of exceptional instances. In
other words, the dialectician is not embarrassed by
his method in handling most of the points of view
with which he must deal on most of the subjects he
wishes to treat. That still leaves these exceptions
to be considered as a limitation or a blemish on
the method, for which the dialectician might
otherwise be inclined to claim universal scope or
the possibility of unqualified success.
Confronted with these exceptions, the
dialectician seems to have only two alternatives.
(1) In order to preserve his neutrality unimpaired,
he can concede the limited applicability of his
method. It cannot be applied to all points of view
on every subject, but only to those that are
unaffected by the application of the method itself.
(2) In order to achieve universal scope or
comprehensiveness of application, he can explicitly
acknowledge that his method is prejudicial to
certain points of view. When he treats these points
of view, he can compensate to some extent for his
inevitable loss of neutrality by acknowledging it.
On either alternative, the fact remains that the
dialectician must, like any other investigator, pay
a certain price for the use of his method.[11]
As between these alternatives, the dialectician
does not need to make a fixed and unalterable
choice. It might conceivably be prudent for him to
adopt the first procedure in dealing with a subject
like truth or language and omit any reference to
the skeptic or the semanticist whose views he
cannot treat with the requisite neutrality. But in
treating a subject like democracy, law, or freedom,
the other choice might be wiser; that is, to treat
all relevant points of view even if the method of
treating some of them distorts them somewhat, but
calling attention, of course, to what is
prejudicial in the treatment.
One subject that has not so far been mentioned
might be thought to raise special difficulties for
the dialectician, and that is the nature of
dialectic itself. The discussion of dialectic
across the centuries contains various, apparently
conflicting, theories of what dialectic is and what
it does.
To
Page Three
Endnotes
7. In his Prefatory Notice to the
Ninth Edition of the Encyclopaedia
Britannica, the editor, Thomas S. Baynes, wrote
that, in the conflict of opinion, "a work like the
Encyclopedia is not called upon to take any
direct part.
It cannot be the organ of any
sect or party in Science, Religion, or Philosophy.
Its main duty is to give an accurate account of the
facts and an impartial summary of results in every
department of inquiry and research" (p. viii).
Referring to this statement by Baynes, Hugh
Chisholm added, in the Editorial Introduction to
the Eleventh Edition, that "every effort has been
made to obtain, impartially, such statements of
doctrine and belief in matters of religion and
similar questions as are satisfactory to those who
hold them, and to deal with these questions, so far
as criticism is concerned, in such a way that the
controversial points may be understood and
appreciated, without prejudice to the argument" (p.
xxi).
8. The main reason for a division
of labor is that the philosophical and the
dialectical tasks are each arduous and exacting and
so make demands on time and energy that it would be
very difficult for a single individual to fulfill
adequately. It is the tension between the pulls of
two different kinds of creative work, not the
impossibility of combining partisanship with
impartiality, that calls for a division of
labor.
9. What is said above about the
dialectician's attempt to construct the controversy
about truth would hold as well for attempts to deal
dialectically with the discussion of certain other
subjects on which the skeptic takes an extreme
position, such as knowledge or the power of human
reason. It would also hold for a dialectical
treatment of the discussion of the nature of
philosophy, on which subject the contemporary
logical positivist or semanticist holds the
moderate skeptical view that science is involved
with objective truth but that philosophy is not and
cannot be. Since the problem about the nature of
philosophy is itself a philosophical problem, the
dialectician's attempt to construct a controversy
about this subject would itself be prejudicial to
the view held by the positivist or semanticist, for
his method of doing so presumes that objective
truth is at stake in philosophical issues -- about
philosophy or anything else.
10. In his essay "On Some
Conditions of Progress in Philosophical Inquiry,"
Professor Lovejoy mentions this objection to the
dialectical dissection of whole philosophies, when
they are treated problem by problem and issue by
issue. He quotes, without naming, a colleague who
said that philosophical knowledge is characterized
by "its incapacity to answer any one of its
problems, without anticipating in broad outline the
kind of answer that has to be given to all the
others. In other words, it deals with problems for
which no method of successful isolation has yet
been formulated.
The various philosophical
problems cannot be, treated as so many separate
issues." Commenting on this, Professor Lovejoy
points out, first, that only a few philosophers
hold a view of philosophy that regards every
philosophical issue as "inextricably intertwined
with all of the others." And, second, he suggests
that by a process of hypothetical reasoning, it is
possible to deal piecemeal with doctrines whose
exponents insist upon their irrefragable wholeness.
See The Philosophical Review 26, 2 (March
1917): pp. 155-58.
11. Modern physics provides us
with a striking instance of the general rule that
every method imposes certain limitations or has
certain defects. Over a large area of the phenomena
that the physicist investigates, his methods do not
embarrass him in any way. But at the fringes, where
he deals with astronomical speeds and distances or
with subatomic quantities, the contemporary
physicist explicitly recognizes that his techniques
of observation affect and limit the results he can
obtain. The same thing is, of course, true of the
biologist who experiments with living organisms, or
of the psychologist who tries to observe mental
phenomena under laboratory conditions.
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