Describing the Dialectic: 1

First a brief review of some things said earlier about the dialectic (expect review and repetition on and between my blogs).

The word dialectic is rooted in the word dialogue, which is best understood in contrast to monologue. In a monologue one person is speaking, on a chosen topic, with no response from anyone else. In a dialogue more than one person is speaking, and they speak in response to each other. What they say is influenced by what each other says. They may have intended to say something specific, but change because what the other person has said requires them to modify what they will say next.

Just because two people are in a conversation with each other doesn’t necessarily mean they are having a dialogue. Often our interchanges are merely reciprocal monologues. We pay little attention to what the other person is saying, waiting only for a break in their monologue so we can resume our own monologue.
The core idea of the dialectic is that other positions are always taken into account.

The dialectic seems to be rooted in a principle that can be expressed in three differing ways. First, that no human statement is ever complete by itself. By statement we should understand not just a single sentence. Sometimes a paragraph makes a single statement. A speech sometimes makes one clear statement, as may a book, a law, or a television program. Whether a statement is simple or elaborate, it remains true that no human statement is ever complete by itself, therefore is never the whole truth.

A second way of understanding the core of the dialectic is that there is always something else that can be said. There is always more to it, no matter what we are talking about. Some aspects have been left out. The world, and our life in it, is too complex to be included in one statement.

A third way of expressing the foundational principle of the dialect is the recognition that it is always possible that we might be wrong. In whatever I think or say, I could be wrong. To believe otherwise is to claim infallibility, and humans are not infallible.

So the dialectic grows out of the realization that there is always another side, another perspective that must be taken into consideration if we are to arrive at truth. To think dialectically is to always consider the possibility of our own error and then to examine our thought to see where the flaw in our thought might be.

We can never take it for granted that what we think, is the truth, and certainly not that it is the whole truth. It is to automatically search for other ways of looking at the same thing. In its most active form, the dialectical thinker seeks out those who hold different views and asks for their response to his own ideas, with the expectation that these voices from another side will lead to the modification of his own thought.

Mortimer Adler has said that the Greek words, men and de, are the greatest contribution the Greeks made to civilization. These words are commonly translated, “on the one hand,” “on the other hand.” In a Greek text, the little particle, men, may show up in an unexpected place. It is not always necessary that it be literally translated, but it is always indicative that only one aspect of something is being presented. When, somewhere later in the text, de, shows up, it simply indicates that we are looking at the same thing from a different perspective. Whatever is being presented, the dialectical thinker’s characteristic response is, “On the other hand.” The dialectic warns us to never forget there are other perspectives; it reminds us to remain constantly aware of the other side.

Dialectic is the language of relationship. It keeps us from forgetting others and our relationship to them. It strikes out against monism, individualism, isolationism, absolutism, and all self-centeredness. The dialectical ear is always listening, the dialectical eye is searching constantly, the dialectical voice always considering the listener.

Dialectical thought is always in process, never complete. “What have I left out, what have I not considered?” These questions become routine. “What if my presuppositions are wrong?” Part of the processive character of the dialectic is that it is always developing, alternately expanding and focusing. It grows and is enriched; it sharpens and clarifies.

Historically, three major philosophers--Heraclitus, Socrates, and Hegel--developed the dialectic, each somewhat differently. Heraclitus stressed the unity of opposites, the idea that contradiction was the source of all. Only as both sides struggled with and against each other is development possible. Thus opposites effect a unity. They become parts of a new order that has resulted from their conflict. In traditional logic, contradictories cannot both be true, but in actuality the tension between them is the driving force of life, expanding and enriching even as they are constantly changing.

The Socratic dialectic takes the form of an intense, purposive conversation. Socrates never allows the dialogue to degenerate into a mere conversation, but keeps it directed toward the clarification of the problem at hand. It is a more analytic than synthetic dialectic. The resolution of the issue at hand always depends on the interaction between the two conversants. Repeatedly the inadequacies of statements are exposed, then revised in the process of seeking a reliable conclusion.

Hegel developed a systematized logic of the dialectic. People who are familiar with the term, dialectic, tend to identify it with the Hegelian dialectic. I do not tie the dialectic to the Hegelian pattern, but it is tremendously useful. I realize that it is far more complex than popular understanding takes it to be. Nonetheless, the common, simple form that I present will be helpful in understanding how the dialectic process typically develops.

Whatever is the starting point under consideration is called the thesis, the place you first take your stand. Always there is something more to be considered, something left out, or ignored. This is called the antithesis. The antithesis is popularly understood as the opposite of the thesis: black and white; male and, female; day and night; or being and non-being. Often this is the case, but more often it is just another significant consideration. If paper is the thesis, what might we understand as its opposite? Canvas, pencil, fire? Depending on the context, many things might be understood as the antithesis of paper, but are they really its opposite?

Tension exists and persists between the thesis and antithesis. Each makes its own claim and resists change. This is the tension so important to Heraclitus. As long as we hold our thesis and are aware of its antithesis, tension is inescapable. B ut tension makes us uncomfortable. How much of our life is given to seek relief from varied tensions? As tension builds, sooner or later something gives, something changes, and a new, revised stance is adopted, a synthesis of the thesis and antithesis.

The synthesis may be only a slight modification of the original thesis, it may be the mid-point between thesis and antithesis, or anywhere between. It might even be much closer to the original antithesis than to the original thesis. Because the synthesis is a more satisfactory position than either of the earlier options, it becomes the new thesis.

Since any thesis has an antithesis, the new thesis is soon accompanied by a new antithesis and the process continues. Thesis calls forth antithesis, the ensuing tension creates a synthesis which becomes the new thesis. The process is ongoing. Man marries woman, they have a child. The child grows up, marries, has a child, and the process moves along. One nation wars with another until some resolution is accomplished, then after a period of time, the resolution is challenged.

This, Hegel believed, is the pattern of all reality. He claimed that the dialectic is “historical, logical, and ontological.” By this he meant that the dialectic is the way history has developed, it is the way all logical thinking operates, and that it is the way reality itself is.