Every now and then, I feel envigorated by conversation, great conversation. There are also moments when I am depressed by how a discussion makes it only too clear how distant we are to each other and how little we care. Working with philosophy makes one think about these things. Philosophy and philosophical discussion, at worst, is indulgent, self-important prattle, and at best it testifies of the joy of exploring and being together. Thinking back on my training in philosophy, I think that we have got our share both of the virtues and vices of discussion. During my years of studying philosophy, I think that the most valuable things I've learned has concerned a certain degree of persistence in discussion. On the more negative side, I suspect philosophy has made me wearier, more paranoid, and more prone to focus on Points and the tedious making of them in conversation. I wish I could have more of the former, more persistence, and less of the latter self-awareness, the opposite of which is not forgetfulness or indulgence but rather joyful discussion immersed in mutuality.
I often wonder what it is that makes something a good conversation. I would never say that a good conversation produces new knowledge. And it has nothing to do with "coming up with solutions" or even "coming to an agreement about something". In some sense, the conversations I've enjoyed the most are characterized by a certain kind of openness between people (....), but I am puzzled about what this openness is about and what sets it apart from the bad conversation, the clumsy conversation, the embarrassing conversation. We may be tempted by the image of the good conversation as the situation in which persons become irrelevant, the point at which personal stuff is obliteratad to give way to a pure intermingling of thoughts. I think that's wrong-headed and that this may even epitomize the worst kind of alienation between people, "pure minds".
I don't know S very well. We've met on several occasions, but I guess most of the time I've been too shy to talk to him because of language difficulties &, I must confess, out of sheer laziness. We walked home together from the bingo (yes, I am 70 yrs old) and for some reason the language barrier just withered away and so did the shyness and we were suddenly able to talk to each other. We talked about what it is to produce text in relation to different standards with regard to language skills. He said that most of all he wants to express himself clearly. I agreed with him & added that sometimes I have the feeling that people don't even care about whether they are understood or not and whether what they've said was clear or not.
Misunderstandings may arise in the best of conversations. That's no problem in itself. But sometimes a situation is suffocating to the point that every little thing, every small misunderstanding, becomes a fatal blow that undermines the conditions for honest discussion. Misunderstanding do not matter in themselves. In this case they are symptoms of what kind of relation we have with each other. It's better to say that the spirit of a discussion will determine the role of misunderstandings. One could talk about smugness here, or good and bad intentions, or benevolence.
A misunderstanding is corrected. When it has dawned on me that I misunderstood what you said the whole thing is forgotten and there's no longer a need for clarification. I made a mistake, that's all. But there's other, more serious forms of lack of understanding. The possibility of clearing up the mistakes to proceed with what is important does not even arise. There are variations here. There's open hostility and there's wavering embarrassment as one dares not even look into the other's face. The more we talk, the more we realize that we don't want to understand each other. We are not interested in each other. Other stuff may be of importance. The manufacturing of a profound point, the need to impress, the gratification of a successful provocation, the titillation of tease.
But let's be clear on this. I would not say that the single thing that matters is that I understand what you say. Your message might be all too clear, and that makes the situation even worse. And, as I said, the same goes for "not understanding". Everything boils down the content of the notion of understanding. I would even say that a real conversation is one in which we have something to say to each other. But having something to say is not at all understandable in terms of "originality" or even "relevance". You might be profound & you might have tons of new stuff to tell me. But if I don't feel that these things are told to me, then what you say leaves me cold. If I feel that you are performing, and if I realize I am not really interested in our conversation here and now, but rather in some future gain (your acceptance etc.). But what does it mean that what you say is said to me? Flattery is directed at me. By flattering me, you bring out the worst in me, and I am the one to feel responsible if I am flattered. But flattery & sugary ingratiation hardly makes for great conversation.
If my memory does not deceive me, Rush Rhees (whose style of writing keeps inspiring me as it is conversational and inviting and truly exploratory) writes about the spontaneity in relations that is central to the concept of "having something to say". I think this is Wittgenstein and the possibility of discourse, a quite tedious, but also very wonderful, book about philosophy of language that, in my opinion, is not like anything written in that field. While philosophers of language have usually been going on and on about sentences, grammar and the structural side of language, not to mention the relationship between language and reality, very few have, I suspect, talked about conversation/discussion. Rhees can't quite get over the image of the builders in Philosophical investigations. Can they be said to have language if all they say to each other is "block", "pillar" and "slab"? Rhees is very troubled by this and his at times rambling text struggles with this issue in a very down-to-earth way. For Rhees, language is about having something to say (rather than, for example, "having words"). Rhees is sympathetic to Wittgenstein, of course, and the idea of meaning as use. But he his not satisfied with this. He wants to see how "use" of words cannot be thought in isolation from the discussions we have with each other. He writes about discourse and what it means that what is said within the course of conversation in some sense is saying something new.
In a good conversation I am not taking any positions and I am making no points and I am not trying to bring anything home and I am making no conclusions. So, if this is not the case, in what sense, if any, is a good conversation demanding? What does it demand and in what sense? It has nothing to do with standards. As soon as I start to worry about my lack of eloquence, as soon as I feel I am stupid and that I bore you with my infantile views on things, our conversation is doomed. I will not talk to you. I will talk to your ego while I am convinced that you are talking to the Eternal tribunal of Intellectual Standards.
I think it would not be completely stupid to say that a good conversation lacks all forms of external demands. It does not demand anything and as soon as it does something has come up between us that is an obstacle to honesty. That's why there is no distinctions to make in terms of subject matters. I may talk to you about beer or Kant. It doesn't matter as long as our relation lacks compulsion, as it lacks cramps.
A good conversation veers from the silly to the serious, from the offbeat to the highly intense. In some situations, I am scared by the sheer intensity and energy of a certain discussion. But I know I shouldn't. A good discussion doesn't throw me out in the dark and neither am I treading scary unknown lands by myself. It's not a minefield of embarrassment and shrewdness or soliloquy and taking turns.
A robust bond. Joy. Curiosity. Mutuality.
A bad conversation is laborious. The other is suffocated rather than let in. It's a trial of strength. A test. I've always hated the way challenging discussion is compared to training in boxing or martial arts ("sparringpartner"). My discussion partner is not a boxer. We are not taking turns of thinking aloud, trying out jabs on each other. Every time I feel that I am genuinely thinking with another person, I exprience it as a bliss.
Still, I find it very hard to describe the mutuality of discussion. There are so many false pictures of the personal and the impersonal at play here.
When everything works, what you say is an invitation.
No comments:
Post a Comment