Considerate Thinking

Appendix, Page 1

2011-07-02T14:01:00.000-07:00

Appendix

The Categorical Syllogism

If you had rather not get into abstract depths, you may want to ignore this appendix. But, if you do the work, it will be worth it. Do the exercises—paper is cheap.

Some years ago, I was summoned for jury duty. During the voir dire questioning, the prosecuting attorney asked my occupation. I replied, “philosophy professor.” Whereupon, he asked, “If you are selected to sit on the jury, will you decide the case using syllogistic logic?” My answer was, “No, I will not reduce everything to syllogisms, but I will use good logic in making any decisions.” (I wound up on the jury.)

What, you may ask, was the lawyer talking about? What is syllogistic logic, and what are syllogisms? This appendix is written to explain the nature and value of syllogistic logic.

First, we must locate the syllogism as one form of the Dialectic, specifically a form of deductive logic. As outlined in Part Two, deduction is that logic in which if the form is correct and the premises are true, the conclusion must necessarily be true with no possibility at all of being false. Notice that, like all logic, this rests completely on the “if.” If the form is correct, and if the premises are true, then, and only then, is the conclusion of the argument necessarily true.

Chapter 11, Page 1

2011-07-02T14:00:00.000-07:00

Chapter 11

Truth, Treasures, and Dreams

You will use the Dialectic differently from other readers because you are different. Your background, beliefs, values, and goals are unique. We each have distinct personalities, perspectives, and possibilities. Our best thought must be consistent with who we are. There is a logic of life. We are the basis of our own thinking—the thesis, the major premise—therefore, we must each determine what that is to be. If we are to think with integrity, we must clarify our basic beliefs, values, and goals. We must know who we are.

Ideally, to do the best thinking, we must be or become good persons, persons of good character. So we must know ourselves, our personal and communal convictions and values. We must determine and give shape to our own unique character. We cannot do our best thinking until we know who we are and why, not until we can clearly and concisely state our starting position in life. If we don’t realize where we’re coming from, there is no telling what will follow. We must know ourselves, decide who we are, and who we intend to become, then live the life of that person. We must live what we believe, else life disintegrates.

All our thought is rooted in what we accept as truth. What do you believe? What do you believe to be true? What do you feel certain about? What do you accept without question? What are your convictions, that is, those things you are convinced of? These core beliefs form the basic theses of our lives. They are, consciously or unconsciously, the starting point of all our thinking.

Chapter 10, Page 1

2011-07-02T13:58:00.000-07:00

Chapter 10

You Are the Thinker

Anyone can become a good thinker; anyone can become a better thinker, but if we are to be the best thinker possible, we must be people of good character. Our character precedes all our thought processes. We may develop the Dialectic as our habitual way of thinking; we might even do the necessary work and practice to learn some basic logic and use it when it is appropriate. More important, however, than the Dialectic and logic is the person doing the thinking. I hope this book doesn’t get into the hands of an embezzler or a burglar, a terrorist or a drug dealer, an unethical politician or businessman because I do not want them to become better thinkers at what they do. On the other hand, I suspect that if they became truly good thinkers, some of them would realize they needed to change their ways.

All our thought is ultimately determined by who we are. Have you ever taken time to think about who you are, about what has shaped your life thus far, and what you hope to become and accomplish. or have you gone with the flow, drifting through life? Do you know what things are most important to you? Among those things, do you know what is your ultimate concern? Do you know what you believe to be true? Do you have goals you are working toward? These things form your character, and your character determines the value of your thinking. This last part of the book concentrates not on how to think but on who the thinker is—who we are.

Chapter 9, Page 1

2011-07-02T13:57:00.000-07:00

Chapter 9

Probable Truth

Induction

The philosopher Bertrand Russell told a story to introduce inductive logic. I have adapted Russell’s story for that same purpose. My version, however, is more elaborate than his.

In early May, Hoot Shoemake bought fifty two-day-old Rhode Island Red chicks, as he did every spring. When they outgrew the brooder, he moved them into a coop out in the barnyard. Every day about sundown, he would lock them in the coop so they would be secure from raccoons, coyotes, foxes, owls, and other nighttime predators. In the morning, a little before sunup, he would let them out, give them fresh water and feed, and let them run and play, scratch for bugs, and chase grasshoppers. In the evening, he would shut them back into their nighttime security. This was the daily pattern.

June came and then July. Life was wonderful, especially for the little chick that Hoot’s daughter, Kaycee, had named “Rhoda.” When it was dark, she was always securely locked in and huddled up close to the rest of the little flock. When it was light, she was always free to run, play, scratch, chase grasshoppers, and enjoy fresh water and all she wanted to eat. As far as she could remember, this had been the pattern for every day of her life. Therefore, inductively, when daylight came one morning and Rhoda heard Hoot’s footsteps coming, she knew what the day would bring. Except …

Except that all days are not created equal. Some days are exceptional. What little chicken Rhoda didn’t know was that this was Sunday, July 11, and the Shoemake family had invited the preacher to eat lunch with them. So she was surprised, no, shocked, when, as she

Chapter 8, Page 1

2011-07-02T13:56:00.000-07:00

Chapter 8

Let’s Be Reasonable about It

Without logic, our thought is always at risk—the risk of inconsistency, the risk that our ideas will not fit together but rather will contradict each other, the risk of becoming a mere hobgoblin of ideas like a cluttered garage. Logic is about consistency, about how things do or do not fit together. Above all, it is about what can or cannot follow from any given starting point.

Contrary to popular belief, everything is logical. Later, I will have more to say about this claim. Meanwhile, since everything follows from something else, anything is open to logical clarification.

Logic is not different from the Dialectic. It is a particular and rigorous instance of dialectical thinking. (Interestingly, math is a particular and extremely rigorous instance of logic.)

If we are going to talk about good thinking, that means that we will of necessity deal with logical thinking. Conventional wisdom says that good thinking is either logical or critical thinking. Yes, but it is more than this. We have seen that good thinking is dialectical thinking, considerate thinking. Good thinking is OTOH, BOTOH. On the other hand, logic, like bipolar thinking, is a particular form of the Dialectic. Although critical thinking—a ubiquitous but ambiguous concept, however you define it—is not what good thinking is all about, it is one part, one that we shall ignore because it is already implicit in all this book says.

The Dialectic is the only way to become a good thinker, but, on the other hand, logic is a valuable assistant. As noted earlier, in the Sears, Roebuck and Co. catalogs of the 1930s and ’40s, many items were available in three different qualities and priced accordingly: good, better, and best. For instance, we could buy a “good” shirt, or a “better one,” or their “best.” The

Chapter 7, Page 1

2011-07-02T13:55:00.000-07:00

Chapter 7

Magnetic Thinking

We seek stability. All our lives, we seek the security, comfort, and peace of stability. We don’t like uncertainty. We want things to be settled, to be definite, to stay in place. The Dialectic, however, is dynamic and is the only appropriate response to a dynamic world of uncertainty. There is a special class of relationships where we tend to claim certainty: things that we see as opposites, where we stand on one side or the other, where there is a distinct right and wrong, true and false, black and white, with no space between, no gray areas. We feel we must choose one pole or the other. I call this a bipolar tension. It’s a special form of the Dialectic: the Dialectic of bipolarity.

Definition

I use Dialectic in a broader and more inclusive sense than many others, but I use bipolarity in a narrower, more particular sense. In this chapter, I give it specific definition: It is a relationship between two seemingly incompatible opposites, a relationship in which neither pole is true by itself. It is not, as many say, a relationship of opposites in which both poles are paradoxically true. The poles are true only in the dialectical tension between them. Truth always lies somewhere between the poles, never at the pole. Sometimes, it is almost indistinguishable from a polar position, but still unpolarized, still in tension with the other pole.

Both or Neither?

So much for an attempt at definition. What am I talking about? The simplest approach to understanding bipolarity is to picture a magnet. We know that each pole of the magnet is

Chapter 6, Page 1

2011-07-02T13:53:00.000-07:00

Chapter 6

The Medical Dialectic

In the summer of 2009, our daughter had four major surgeries to correct almost unbearable physical problems. It was a medically dialectical summer. The medical dialectic comprise three things: doctor/patient relationship; the doctor’s thought pattern, particularly in diagnosis and choice of treatment; and the nature of medications.

Doctors Are Not Gods

The Dialectic dictates that we live by dialogue with each other. In a medical situation, this means that: we should be prepared to tell the doctor clearly and concisely what we understand our problem to be; the doctor should be a good listener; and she should be prepared to engage her patient in question and answer dialogue. Too often we give our physician an incomplete and somewhat vague account of our symptoms and their history. If our problem is at all serious, we might be wise to take written notes with us lest we forget something important.

In Neil Ravin’s novel, M.D., he tells of a woman who after months of being treated for asthma, told her doctor that she only wheezed when she was in his waiting room, a room furnished with wool-upholstered chairs. And she was allergic to wool. When asked why she had never before mentioned this, she responded that he had never asked. Needless to say, her physician cancelled all her medicines and suggested she stay away from his waiting room. Who was at fault in this situation? Was it the doctor, or the patient? He had not asked, she had not told. No Dialectic at work.

Chapter 5, Page 1

2011-07-02T13:51:00.000-07:00

Chapter 5

The Dialectic at Home

Home is where life gets itself together (or pulls itself apart). Home is our first school. Rebel against it as we may, the Dialectic of home life cannot be shaken. It shapes our thought, habit, and action more than we are aware of. We are much more like our parents than we suppose. On the other hand, to the degree that we rebel against parental example, it is that example that is calling the shots, telling us what we do not want to become. As with most of us, I was a parent, perhaps even a grandparent, before my dialectical relationship with home came into focus.

Are You Listening?

Deep into his sermon, he would lean over the pulpit and ask, “Dear hearts tonight, are you listening?” That was a long time ago, but I can still hear him addressing his congregation with these old-timey words of endearment. Daddy used the rhetoric of a bygone era, but everyone in the church knew that they were dear to him, and we knew he wanted us to pay attention because his sermons were punctuated repeatedly with, “Are you listening?” After all, what is the point of preaching if nobody is listening?

And what about us? What can we accomplish in our conversations if no one is listening? If we are going to live with each other, we will have to listen, hear, and acknowledge each other. If I don’t listen, or at least look, I may not realize when you are hurting and that you are about to go under unless someone comes to your rescue. If I don’t listen, I may not realize how much you

Chapter 4, Page 1

2011-07-02T13:50:00.000-07:00

Chapter 4

The Dialectic

Exactly what is the Dialectic? It can be most easily understood by contrast, the contrast between dialogue and monologue. A monologue is an extended uninterrupted speech by a character in a drama, often a one-person monologue spoken to an audience. In a monologue, only one person speaks. No response from others is allowed. You are probably familiar with the dramatic monologue as a form of popular entertainment featuring someone such as Bill Cosby, Jerry Seinfeld, David Letterman, or Tevye in Fiddler on the Roof.

In contrast, a dialogue includes at least two speakers responding to each other. What each says is influenced by what the other has said. One speaker may have to say something other than he had first intended because what the other person has said requires a new response.

However, simply 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 each are attempting a fundamentally uninterrupted and extended speech. We have something we want to get said. When someone interrupts us, we pay little attention to what he has to say. We are only waiting for a break in the other’s monologue so we can resume our own monologue. Although more than one speaker is involved, there is no interactive dialogue taking place.

Chapter 3, Page 1

2011-07-02T13:49:00.000-07:00

Chapter 3

The “How” of Thinking

General George Patton’s Advice

General George Patton said: “Never tell people how to do things. Tell them what to do and they will surprise you with their ingenuity.”

That depends on the people and the task. I am certain that General Patton always made sure before taking his troops into battle that they had been taught how to aim and fire their weapons, how to disassemble and clean them, and how to operate and maintain their tanks and other vehicles. He wanted, as a minimum, for his men to have been through basic training in military “hows.”

Patton did not take raw recruits straight from the streets, schools, factories, and farms, put them on the battlefield, and then order them to defeat the enemy. He did not win his great victories simply by telling his soldiers what to do and leaving it up to their ingenuity to figure out how to do it.

We often follow Patton’s advice. We tell people to “Think about it,” or “Think it over,” and we ask, “Why didn’t you think?” But we cannot assume that, left to their own ingenuity, people will know how to think. They may not. But they can learn. And, after you have read this book, you will know how to thin

Chapter 2, Page 1

2011-07-02T13:45:00.000-07:00

Chapter 2

Thinking Made Easy

It is common to hear someone say, “Thinking is hard work,” but that is not so. Thinking is not that hard, if you know how to do it. Many things are hard work if you have no training and experience at the job, but not unusually hard once you learn the relevant skills, tricks of the trade, and have the right tools. For most of us, digging ditches would be grueling labor but the experienced ditch digger knows to sharpen the shovel before he begins work and to wear boots that have sturdy construction, particularly a heavy sole and good arch support.

Supposedly, the “work” that more people fear than any other is public speaking. However, almost anyone who has earned the right to speak on his topic, and is enthusiastic about letting others hear his ideas, can make a good speech. His passion will help override his stage fright, and his earned right to speak on the subject will supply the needed confidence.

Knowledge of a simple outline such as the following, can organize most speeches: Ho Hum, Point, Explanation, Example, So What? Assume your audience is half-asleep or disinterested (Ho Hum) and begin with something that will wake them up. Then state your Point clearly, Explain what it means, how it works, and so on, give a concrete Example or two, then let them know how you would like them to respond (So What?). With only a little experience of this approach, anyone can do a satisfactory job of speaking in public. And feel good about it.

Chapter One,...like an Octopus

2011-05-29T12:14:00.000-07:00

Chapter One

Be Ye Not Mentally Lazy

You may have grown up, as I did, convinced that the authority figures in your world were telling the truth, at least to a degree. I sensed a core of truth in what they so dogmatically said, but I knew in my gut that at some points they were wrong. I recognized that, while maybe they were right, there was more to it than they let on, and often that "more to it" was what mattered most. I also knew that some people and the views they so strongly condemned were not as bad as they were made out to be.I knew that a lot of the wrongs they attacked were not always necessarily, totally wrong.Although at the time I could not have articulated it, I was developing a core of skepticism.

But I was well socialized, so never did I consider challenging any of this. They were bigger, older, smarter, richer, and they held the power to either punish or reward.There was no future in challenging their positions.

On the other hand I knew better than to trust my own mind. In school my classmates made better grades, were better athletes, better looking, and more popular. I was not a leader; no one ever followed or looked up to me. I was painfully aware of my own inadequacies, but although I was not fully conscious of it, I was also vaguely aware of the limitations of those in authority and even of my more popular and more gifted classmates.

I was nearly fifty-years-old before I realized the full implications of those childhood perceptions. Gradually I came to see that my tacit disagreement with society somehow comprised the elements of a more honest and complete approach to truth and life. The seeds of a new way of thinking had been planted; a way I much later came to call The DIALECTIC, the theme of this book.

After floundering through life for long years, I finally learned that it is easy to become a good thinker. Good thinking, however, is in short supply both because many of us are mentally lazy and because it requires something more than mere critical thinking, keen intellect, and formal education.

On the Other Hand

What it takes to become a good thinker is to make,"On the Other Hand," your habitual response to ideas, whether your own or those of others, spoken or written, in formal or in informal settings. No matter what is presented, always consider what might be "on the other hand," because no human statement is, by itself, ever complete, something is always left out, there is always more to be said, and it is always possible that what has been presented might be wrong. Develop a deep sense and appreciation of human limitations, determine to make "on the other hand" thinking second nature, and you are on the road to becoming a good thinker. Results will appear almost immediately. You will become a voice to be reckoned with.

Is that all there is to it? No, but if "on the other hand" thinking becomes a regular practice, you will quickly become a respected thinker. I remember from my youth that the Sears, Roebuck catalog offered a choice of merchandise at varying levels of quality: good, better, and best. You already have read enough to reach the genuinelygood level of thinker.

When you come to understand the larger dimensions of THE DIALECTIC--the proper name for "on the other hand thinking"--and when you add to that an elementary understanding of how logical thinking works, you will become a betterthinker.

And if you are still here when we come to the last pages of the book, we will consider how you can become the bestthinker that can be made out of your unique personality and place in the world.

Becoming a Thinker

Daddy was a workaholic and always gone, Mother was an old-fashioned housewife, a good one, busy doing all the work that entails, so I was pretty well left alone and by default became a lonely, lazy dreamer. I roamed the rivers, creeks, and hills, knowing I had been born fifty years too late to be the cowboy or mountain man that I read and dreamed of. I drifted mindlessly through the years until one day I found myself a high school graduate. I remember three graduation gifts, one of them in particular. Neither the creamy-yellow sport jacket nor the fancy corduroy shirt of many colors ever looked right on me, but somehow I have remembered them. More to the point was Mother's gift of a book of inspirational poetry and prose, Quests and Conquests. For years I enjoyed reading the book but was never inspired to actually do anything. The book didn=t change me, but Mother's inscription written in the front of the book, "Be ye not mentally lazy," haunted me.

Mother's admonition was based on accurate observation. I don't remember having ever thought much about anything for the first twenty years of my life, but when I read her inscription I knew immediately that I needed whatever it was that she was calling for. However, I neither knew what to do about it nor how. The problem was that I had no thinking equipment, skills, or coaching, and had no prior encouragement to think (few schools or homes teach us how to think).It would be long years before I made any progress in that direction, but Mother's words were never far from my consciousness; I felt their challenge continually.

Several years later, I found myself in a theological seminary studying to become a minister. There I heard professor Gordon Clinard declare that the greatest weakness of Southern Baptist preaching was shallowness.Immediately I vowed that my sermons would have depth. During seminary years, I worked, without adequate tools for thinking, at exploring the depths of God's word and of human experience. I was still depending on others, teachers and books, to do my thinking for me, and I still trusted them. Yet I knew they were missing it somewhere.

When I was given my first teaching position and found that I had to teach--and thus learn--logic, I discovered, finally, a method of systematic thinking.Logic, I came to realize, should be required of all high school graduates--not symbolic logic, but traditional, elementary logic.

Now, I was a beginning philosophy teacher and confident of my ability as a thinker. But I had a lot to learn. It took a half-dozen years of teaching philosophy before all of the above began to converge in the idea ofTHE DIALECTIC. I completely rewrote my philosophy courses, making the DIALECTIC central, and have taught it now for more than thirty years. Mother would be proud of her easy-going son because across the years, among faculty and students alike, I have gained a reputation for making people think.They tell me they now think about things they never thought about before, and from perspectives they would have never before considered. Let's talk about how you can improve your thinking ability and practice.

But on the Other Hand

The words of a Randy Travis song suggest the way. Early in his career Travis sang about a fellow who has just met an exciting woman. She has captivated his complete attention, has him almost spellbound. As he considers the possibility of spending the night with her, he sings, "On one hand I count the reasons I could stay with you . . . all night long . . . and on that hand I see no reason why it's wrong." That is one way for him to look at the situation. But the refrain reveals the rest of the picture, as he sings, "But on the other hand there's a golden band, to remind me of someone who would not understand." He has been tempted to forsake his marriage, and might have done so if he just looked at things from the most obvious point of view, the way he felt. He sings about a strong desire to stay, but the logic of marital love and commitment tells him that, "the reason I must go is on the other hand."

This indicates the importance of DIALECTICal thinking for even the most careless of us. On one hand--every day, throughout the day--we see things we believe to be right and that feel right at the time, but on the other hand there is always more to be considered. On one hand we are ready to act; on the other hand it is always possible that we might be wrong and regret what we did.

In life too much is at stake for our conduct to be decided by one-handed thinking. President Harry Truman once told his cabinet members that he wished they would find him a one-hand economist. He said that every economist that briefed him presented a good analysis of the economic situation, and advised an appropriate course of action. However, Truman complained, once they laid all this out, they would say: "But on the other hand . . . ," and proceed to build the case for a different analysis and course of action. He wanted someone who had the answer.

The truth is that no single way of looking at anything ever sees the whole picture. There is always more. Mortimer Adler made the strange claim that the greatest contribution Greek civilization ever made to our culture was the idea of men andde. These strange words are two little particles in the Greek language, commonly translated into English as on one hand/but on the other hand. When we think of Greek culture, sculpture, philosophy, and drama, we might wonder what Adler was thinking when he made such an audacious claim. Why would he say on the one hand/but on the other hand is the greatest contribution of the Greeks? Because it is a concise expression of that which this book is about, that which we call the DIALECTIC.

The DIALECTIC

The DIALECTIC will not make you a better person--that is a whole different issue--but it will make you a better thinker.It will keep you out of a lot of trouble. You will not be surprised easily or often. It will make it easier for you to understand and get along with other people. Others will begin to respect you and your ideas more than they have in the past. If you are a student, you will become a better learner, performing better in the classroom and making better grades, gaining broader understanding and deeper insight. If you are married, you will become a better and more appreciated spouse. If you are part of a team at work, you will become a better and more valuable team member.

If all this sounds as though the DIALECTIC is some kind of a magic pill or silver bullet, you are hearing it right. No matter who you are, what you are interested in, or what you do, it will fit you. It will apply directly to what you are about. All this, and it is easy to learn and put to use.

Think like an Octopus

"On the other hand." That's the silver bullet. That's all it takes to become a good thinker. It's that simple. But on the other hand, it helps to notice still another hand.

I was sitting at the breakfast table, reviewing plans for my first philosophy class of the day. I was thinking specifically about the dialectic. Then I remembered that I had a problem student in that class. I only had three problem students in thirty-some years of teaching. This was one of them. He was one of those back row, disruptive whisperers.I had spoken to him about it a couple of times, to no avail. He seemed to have a lack of respect for me. So I shifted my mind from preparation for class to preparation for dealing with this aggravation.

I spent two years in the army as basic training officer. I have experience in sounding tough, and I can make the appropriate face to go along with the speech.I=ve never used that style in teaching.However, that morning, I was considering it.On the other hand, I could quietly inform him that if the whispers did not cease, he would receive an "F" in the class. On the other hand, I wasn't sure that would be a fair course of action. In fact, he might dare me to try it (he was the kind to do that). On the other hand, I had to do something because he was disrupting the class. So, on the other hand . . . Wait a minute, how many other hands do I have?

On the other hand is the dialectical formula. It is the way. But on which other hand. Mentally, we have more than two hands. Our left hand has its own right and left hands, and they have theirs. We need to think on as many hands as possible. We need to learn to think like an octopus. An octopus can think "on the other hand" several times before he runs out of perspectives to consider.

The way to become a good thinker is to think like an octopus. Usually there are many hands to consider. Each hand has other hands itself. Don't forget the left hand. Like a construction supervisor, hire other hands if they are needed. Don't settle on an answer, conclusion, or idea until you have to because there are always these other hands to turn to.We will never have time to check them all out, but don't quit early, especially if there is much at stake.

Think dialectically, consider others, even your enemies, maybe especially your enemies, and think like an octopus thinking on all eight hands. However, if we seek to examine all hands, can we ever make a decision?

At some point we have to cut off thought and act on the best judgment we can make at the time, always realizing that what we do may turn out wrong. We have no choice, however, but to use our best judgment at the time, however incomplete it may be.

Blog Termination?

2011-01-22T09:13:00.001-08:00

I'm sure you've noticed months ago that I have stopped posting to this blog. The book I was in the process of blogging--Think Like an Octopus--has been published and is available from your book seller.

I may post occasionally to this blog as ideas of value come to me that are not covered in the book. i might not.

Chapter 7/11

2010-11-08T09:40:00.000-08:00

Freedom and Determinism

Freedom and determinism? We need to understand this dialectic if we are to think clearly.

We are free to make choices. The range of our choices, however, is limited. Heredity and socio-cultural heritage limit our options. Every free choice we make determines a wide range of future options. Many decisions we make are irreversible; others can be reversed. So the development and character of life is determined by heritage, circumstances beyond our control, and personal decisions made within the limits imposed by heredity and environment–heritage, environment, and free choice.

We are and are becoming the embodiment of the dialectical interaction of these three factors. These are the elements that comprise the bipolar tension between determinism and freedom.

We are free to choose neither our genetic makeup nor our social heritage. My immediate heritage involves the Great Depression and World War II, rural southern Oklahoma, and small Baptist churches. My more distant heritage includes poverty-stricken, uneducated, Scotch-Irish farmers who fled Ireland’s Great Potato Famine and became Appalachian hillbillies. I had no more choice in any of this than I did of the genes that gave me a tall, slender frame, blue eyes, and an introverted personality.

If you were born in Vietnam in the 1960s, the daughter of a United States Marine and a Vietnamese mother who, before the war, had lived in a well-to-do home, your heritage would be quite different from mine. Perhaps now you live in Caldwell, Kansas where your husband has become a successful realtor, and you are an active member of the PTA. In your mind and heart you are still Buddhist.
Your thinking and mine will come from widely differing starting points. Although it is unlikely, it is possible that we might find common ground and come to similar conclusions for similar reasons. This could happen only after many dialectical considerations.

None of us choose our heritage, yet it is an inescapable element of our body, soul, and mindset. It provides the fundamental framework within which we find our personal options for making decisions.

Chapter 7/10

2010-10-30T12:58:00.000-07:00

Reason and Emotion

Another fundamental–essential–element of good thinking is the dialectical bipolar tension between reason and emotion. As in all true bipolar relations, neither of these, taken by itself, is valid. Good thinking exists only in the tension between the two. And there is no magic balance. Sometimes it is primarily emotion that powers good thinking; on other occasions reason rides in the driver’s seat. In either case, the other is consulted and taken seriously. Considerate thinking finds its place all along the spectrum between the two poles.

The movie, Guess Who’s Coming for Dinner? , draws its power from the tension of racism in conflict with love. Matt Drayton (Spencer Tracy) and Mr. Prentice (Roy Glenn) are convinced that their beloved children, “Joey” Drayton (Katharine Houghton) and Dr. John Prentice (Sidney Poitier) have lost their minds. The fathers are totally convinced that this interracial marriage would be a horrible mistake. They can think only of all the potential problems that would accrue were the marriage to take place. The situation comes to an impasse, until, finally, Mrs. Prentice (Beah Richards) confronts the two “old” men.

She speaks to their feelings, which she says have dried up long ago. She rebukes them for having forgotten what it is like to be young and deeply committed, as this young couple is. Her pain-laden challenge wakens Drayton’s heart and mind. Now he understands the situation as a whole, and in an impassioned speech, pours out the love and commitment to his wife that has not diminished across long years of marriage. The issue is resolved. The marriage receives the blessing of both parents.

Only as love’s emotion arises in antithesis to racism’s reason can any of them think clearly and thus see beyond their preconceived ways of thinking.

Chapter 7/9

2010-10-21T08:33:00.000-07:00

Aging

The morning I turned forty-five, before I even got out of bed, I decided that I was now “old enough.” All my life I had heard, “You’re not old enough . . .” to remember . . . , to do that, to wear that, to understand . . . , to enjoy. . .. On that day, February 15, 1979, I decreed that I was old enough for whatever.
But that notion begat another: I may be old enough, but I was not yet “old.” So, at forty-five I began to prepare for old age. I began studying gerontology. In succeeding years, I began carefully observing elderly people. I soon concluded that most people, if they live long enough, flunk old age. At least most that I have observed did not have a happy ending to their story.

People who had accumulated wealth and all that comes with it, or who had risen to prestigious positions of leadership, or who had the sophistication that accompanies world travel and education from elite universities–people such as these I have watched, and in large measure seen them end their years in the misery of emptiness. As a result, I began in earnest to study individuals who had earned good grades in aging. I knew my time would come, and I wanted to know the joy of a life fulfilled.

Now I am an old man in my seventies. What have I learned across the past thirty years? I’ve learned that the secret of successful aging lies in the bipolar dialectic of continuity and change, the every-changing, but necessary tension between thinking–and thus, living–like a conservative and like a progressive. Tradition and novelty.

Somewhere along the way I read and bought into the idea that the secret of successful aging was the ability to adapt. Those who can’t, or don’t, or won’t adapt are shunted off the road of life, into the ditch of bitterness. Yes, adaptability is essential. It is a necessary, but not sufficient condition for a good old age. The ability to adapt is one of those poles that is invalid when taken by itself. It makes its contribution to life, to old age, only as it lives in tension with the other pole: the commitment to hold onto those things that we have staked our lives on, believe in, and have integrated into our character.

On the other hand, necessary as it is to hold onto the best of the past, conservativism is insufficient to lead us to Browning’s “best [that] is yet to be, the last of life for which the first was made.” To adopt a purely conservative stance toward life is to become stagnant, then sour, then morose; it is a guarantor of misery.

It takes both. Some of us will need to maintain more continuity with the past, and keep more traditions, while others will need to venture more into the new cultures that continually emerge. But all of us must conserve that which we most value and believe in. All of us must adapt to some of the unavoidable novelty that seems so foreign to the world in which we spent most of our lives.
Myself, I hold to the matchless personal and social value of traditional marriage with its associated lifetime vows. In a world that increasingly distances itself from the natural, favoring rather the man-made modifications and replacements of nature, I am a determined conservative of the natural, the wild, and that which is essentially untouched, left in its apparently chaotic biodiversity. The blue bib overalls and western-style hats that are part of my rural Oklahoma heritage and that I still wear much of the time help give continuity to who I am.

On the other hand, I am on good terms with Gmail, blogging, Twitter, cell phones, and solar panels. I relate easily and comfortably with the generation of body piercings, tattoos, iPods, and MTV. They speak a different language, dress differently, and represent a culture completely foreign to what feels natural to me. But I made the choice back when I was forty-five that I would gradually become a naturalized citizen of this new nation, the nation of the younger, because, as is commonly said, I know that we are more alike than we are different.

It has not been easy to live feeling the strong pull from both poles. I have often lost my balance, often allowed myself to be pulled down, often failed to live the tension. Often I think I could relax and feel more comfortable if I allowed myself to completely polarize, but that would be to choose to lose so much that is vital.

Chapter 7/8

2010-10-14T09:23:00.000-07:00

Activity and Rest

A fundamental dialectic is the bipolar movement between activity and rest: day and night, six work days and a sabbath, break time during the work day, the growing seasons and winter, two hours of driving on the road followed by a rest stop, (federal law allows truckers thirteen hours on the road and mandates at least ten hours off duty before driving again, although many studies show this to be an inadequate rest period). If we stay only at one pole, we eventually burn out; if we stay too long at the other pole, we accomplish little or nothing. We need both rest and activity.

So it is with thinking. Think too long and your mind gives out. On the other hand, don’t quit too soon. I remember when our university bestowed an honorary doctorate on a wealthy south Texas farmer/business man. In his acceptance speech he said he often was asked the secret of his success. He told us it was just three words: “A little more.”

Thinking is work. In the early stages of becoming a considerate thinker, it can be hard work. The mind balks and says, “Leave me alone.” When this occurs, see if you can give it just “a little more.” Try to think of just one more “other hand” possibility, one more aspect of the antithesis, or another facet of either thesis or antithesis. Just one more try, then give it a rest.

The oak tree and the grape vine need winter’s dormant period so they can digest, stabilize, and incorporate the gains of the growing season. They need winter also for rest, restoration, and recovery. The birds of the air, the beasts of the field, the reader and writer–people like you and me–all need daily sleep. Some of us get by on a little less, others of us seem to require a bit more, but we slight our sleep only at great risk.

When the mind tires of cerebration, it calls us to move, for a while, toward the other pole: mindlessness. Myself, I check CNN online for a news update, get a snack from the kitchen, play a card game with my wife, go outside and enjoy the wide diversity of my native plant yarden, or watch my little flock of bantam chickens. It might be a good time to go shopping, visiting, or to bed and sleep. Do just about anything, but give thinking a rest.

I spoke of thinking as hard work, particularly as we begin deliberately to think according to the dictates of the dialectic. The “a little more” stretches the mind, even as a little more stretches our physical muscles. Just as we grow stronger lifting weights, gradually increasing the weight, so our minds grow stronger as we gradually demand more of them.

Think, think a little more, retreat, rest, allow time and space for re-creation. Cognitive ability will grow. Some of us will require more, some less mental rest and restoration. Give yourself whatever time is required to enable you to come back with readiness and enthusiasm. The time will come when thinking is no more tiring than walking or talking. The dialectic calls for some kind of rhythmic movement between activity and rest. Think about it.

Chapter 7/7

2010-10-07T14:01:00.000-07:00

We polarize for two or three reasons. When we take a polar position on anything, it gives us a sense of security. Polar positions are absolute. They leave us with no questions. A correlative of this is that we polarize because at the polar position we do not have to think. And, as always, it is easier to follow our comfortable crowd. Security, with no need to do the work of thinking, and plenty of company.

But the power of a magnet lies in neither its positive nor its negative pole. Rather the power resides in the tension between them. Were we to decide against negatives and make it all positive, or vice versa, we would be left with a piece of mere metal.

We are called on, regularly, to pick a pole: conservative or liberal, pro-life or pro-choice, freedom or determinism, capitalism or communism, socialism or individualism. “Which are you,” we are asked? Every time we adopt a polar position, something is destroyed, something vital. Reality, life, and truth exist in those polar tensions.

If we insist on the supremacy of individual rights and reject the claims of society, our thinking is invalid. If we claim that individual rights must be subordinated to the needs of society, our thinking is invalid. Neither pole, taken alone, is ever right. Only with the support of a healthy society can an individual attain her full potential; only when composed of a diverse body of well-developed individuals can a society maintain its health. The bipolarities of life are true, they are right but only in relation to each other, only as the tension is acknowledged.

Nor should we look for truth in a middle-of-the-road balance. Reality, life, and truth exist along an unceasingly shifting, fine line somewhere between the poles. Think of the tightrope walker with her balancing pole. It is rarely held perfectly horizontal. Sometimes it is tipped a little to the left or right, and sometimes it is tipped rather deeply one direction or the other, whatever is needed for the walker to maintain her balance. At times we see the pole tilted rapidly back and forth, from one side to the other.

Chapter 7/6

2010-10-06T16:28:00.000-07:00

Living the Tension

At times truth may lie so close to one pole that it seems to be polarized. The difference is that, no matter how close to one pole, it still feels the pull of the other. Once polarized, however, we feel no tension at all–and thus, are out of touch with the real world, the world of tensions. Today, talking with you, I may sound like a flaming liberal, just like the dogmatic liberal. The difference between me and the liberal is that I am still aware of the conservative pole and the values and challenges it holds. Thus, next week, talking with her, I may sound just like a hidebound conservative. Again, however, I have not allowed myself to choose a pole, I am still in the tension, the living, moving tension. Truth, reality, and life exist along a fine line that continually moves between the poles.

Too many of us are uncomfortable with tension, change, and the relativity of living this spectrum. In our desire for stability, we want to be solidly anchored like a great oak tree. We are called, rather, to the stability of the eagle soaring high in the air, apparently with no support. The eagle, however, riding the wind currents and thermal air columns, is as secure as the oak. But it is a living security, not a fixed and static one. Life has to be engaged moment by moment. We can never lock into safety.

So learn, when confronted by an either/or situation, to stop and consider the possibility that a bipolarity is involved, in which case we should not accept the either/or that we are presented with. If the occasion is bipolar, we recognize that it is both/and, and must make a judgment about where across the spectrum we should take our stand. Make it habit always, in the face of either/or, to consider and be prepared to deal with the bipolar.

chapter 7/5

2010-10-05T06:44:00.000-07:00

Other of the most general bipolarities of life are:
Community Character
Tension Release
Solitude Company
Work Sabbath
Worship Service
Being Doing
Doubt Belief
Decision Habit
Environment Genetics
Is Ought
Situation Rules
Act Wait
Yin Yang
Universal Singular
Serious Lighthearted
Individual Community
Personal Social

Again, truth exists in the tension between the poles. Note that it does not rest in the center between them, in fact it does not rest at all. Truth–and life and reality–move all along the spectrum between. Today, in this situation, relative to this moment, it may lie in the center, but later in the day, when the situation has changed, it may be closer to one pole and further from the other, still feeling the tension from both directions.

Think like an Octopus

2010-10-04T09:21:00.000-07:00

Reminder that the book this blog, Think like an Octopus: the Key to Becoming a Good Thinker, is now available from Amazon or Barnes & Noble.

Chapter 7/4

2010-10-04T09:20:00.001-07:00

Notice that the Bible doesn’t merely state that God is sovereign. It also emphasizes human freedom. But it doesn’t just emphasize human choice and responsibility, it also claims God’s control. We want to affirm that both are true, independently of the other--objectively true. But we live in a world where everything exists in relation to other things. Nothing exists independently of anything else. Thus, truth always exists in some relational context. Bipolar kinds of truths are true only in relation to each other. I reiterate, neither is true by itself.

Our common response to bipolarities is to either accept the copout notion that they are a paradox, or else we polarize. We agree they are contradictory, that the truth of one implies the falsity of the other and vice versa, so we feel compelled to defend one and attack the other. This is the root of many of our problems: we cannot accept the tensions inherent in bipolarity. If we affirm the truth of one and reject the other, the tension is eliminated. But we fail to consider the necessity of tension in the real world.

Everything exists and is held together in tensions of all sorts. If all tension--muscular, cellular, and other--were eliminated from our bodies, they would collapse into a protoplasmic heap. Tension is a necessary part of reality. Only inappropriate tension is a problem.

Retired HPU Professor Visits Campus for Book Signing

2010-10-02T15:17:00.000-07:00

Retired HPU Professor Visits Campus for Book Signing

Chapter 7/3

2010-10-01T15:32:00.000-07:00

Both or Neither?

So much for an attempt at definition. What am I talking about? The simplest approach to understanding bipolarity is to picture the horseshoe-shaped magnet. We know that each pole of the magnet is charged, one positive, the other negative. Neither of the poles is the more important, neither the more necessary. If both poles were to be made positive, the magnetism would be lost. So if both were negative. The opposite poles set up a magnetic tension between. The magnetism is dependant on the tension rooted in this opposition of the poles.

Many of the most basic features of our world exist in bipolar tension with each other. Take, for instance, the classic tension between of the sovereignty of God and human freedom. These seem to be complete opposites, incompatible with each other. In its strongest statement, if God is the sovereign ruler of the universe, then everything that happens is as he directly ordains. Everything is done precisely as God desires, with no option for variation. Humans are left with no freedom of choice. On the other hand, if humans are genuinely free, they may contradict God’s desires and may do so on a regular basis, in which case, God is not sovereign in the strongest sense. Similar bipolarities characterize many of the basic realities of life and our understandings of it.

Quite commonly, these contradictions are accepted as paradoxical. The reference to paradox is intended to make contradictories acceptable while leaving them inexplicable. We need to note that the idea of contradiction, in the strict logical sense, means that one element--pole--must be true and the other must be false. When two things contradict, they cannot both be true. In a paradox we have that which seems to be contradictory, yet in which both elements seem to be true.

An understanding of bipolarity enables us to make sense of this and present a reasoned resolution to these difficulties. In contrast to many understandings of bipolarity, the concept I present affirms, not that, while they are contradictory, both poles seem to be true. Rather, I affirm that in a bipolarity, neither pole is true--not by itself. Just as a magnet’s positive or negative pole is magnetically useless if it exists by itself, so in bipolarity either pole is untrue, if taken alone. Both poles are true, but only in tension with the other pole.

Chapter 7/2

2010-09-10T14:34:00.000-07:00

Definition

I use DIALECTIC in a broader, and more inclusive sense than many others, but I use bipolarity in a narrower, more particular sense. In this chapter I give it specific definition: It is a relationship between two seemingly incompatible opposites, a relationship in which neither pole is true by itself. It is not, as many say, a relationship of opposites in which both poles are paradoxically true. The poles are true only in the DIALECTICal tension between them. Truth always lies somewhere between the poles, never at the pole. Sometimes it is almost indistinguishable from a polar position, but still unpolarized, still in tension with the other pole.

chapter 7/1

2010-08-30T17:29:00.000-07:00

Magnetic Thinking

We seek stability. All our lives we seek the security, comfort, and peace of stability. We don’t like uncertainty. We want things to be settled, to be definite, to stay in place. The DIALECTIC, however, is dynamic and is the only appropriate response to a dynamic world of uncertainty. There is a special class of relationships in particular where we tend to claim certainty: things that we see as opposites, things where we either stand on one side or on the other, where there is a distinct right and wrong, true and false, black and white with no space between, no gray areas. We must choose one pole or the other. I call this a bipolar tension, a special form of the DIALECTIC: the DIALECT of bipolarity.

Chapter 6/5

2010-08-28T09:08:00.001-07:00

The DIALECTIC of Good Health

When it comes to our health, the DIALECTIC dictates that we consider more than going on a diet. Nutrition is a necessary, but not sufficient element of good health. Other considerations are essential, among them are: exercise, sleep and rest, sanitation, work, regular checkups, and attitude. We also must avoid certain abusive habits: drugs, including alcohol and tobacco; overeating and eating junk foods; becoming a couch potato; promiscuous sex; unsafe driving practices–we all know most of the rest of the unhealthy habits to be avoided. The maintenance and restoration of good health is many-handed; each item listed above has other hands of its own, and some of those hands have still other hands. Think Like an octopus.

The Book Is Available

2010-08-21T20:03:00.000-07:00

The book that I've been serializing on this post is now available at Amazon and at Barnes & Noble. Any reviews would be appreciated. I hope you find the book useful.

I will continue serializing until the end of the book is reached.

Chapter 6/4

2010-08-21T16:01:00.000-07:00

Side Effects

The DIALECTIC of medications tells us that we must always consider side-effects, or as it might be called, “the law of unintended or unforeseen consequences.” This law states that often there are unexpected but logical consequences to our decisions and actions. We can almost say that we should always expect the unexpected, never be surprised by surprises.

All medications have side-effects. Some of these are positive, some are negative (usually when we speak of side-effects we are thinking of the negative). Some depend on other factors whether they work good or ill. Aspirin, for instance, is taken for relief of minor aches and pains. It also thins the blood, in some people, dangerously so. However, it is commonly prescribed, not for aches and pains, but specifically to thin the blood as a precaution against stroke.

Cancer is a particularly tricky illness to deal with. Radiation and chemotherapy (treatment with “poison”) have saved or prolonged many lives, but there is no guarantee. Side effects are almost guaranteed (although I have had two friends who took chemo with no apparent side-effects at all). With cancer treatment, the side-effects can be so serious that some prefer to take their risks or accept death rather than endure the misery of the side-effects of radiation or chemo. This is so with many medications. On one hand they are, or may be, salutary, but on the other hand they may have unintended consequences that cause some of us to forego the medicine, preferring to live with our problems, however severe they may be.

Chapter 6/3

2010-08-19T09:32:00.000-07:00

How Doctors Think

Doctors think just like the rest of us. Some of us are better thinkers than others. Most of us, as adults, think within the parameters of our training. Once we are well trained, we tend to fall into habitual patterns of thought. The farmer sows his wheat in September, the teacher continues to think that grades above ninety are to be graded, “A,” the merchant begins in September, if not earlier, thinking about Christmas sales. And the physician tends to use tests and follow procedures that have worked well in the past.

After I began writing this chapter, Dr. Jerome Groopman published a book, How Doctors Think. I revised this section and it is now greatly indebted to Groopman’s book. He addresses two fundamental issues: poor thinking on the part of many doctors, and the pathway to good medical thinking. Although he does not mention the word, the book’s thesis echoes the DIALECTIC. Doctors, he says, need to recognize the fact that it is always possible they could be wrong in their initial diagnosis, to realize there is always more to be considered and to thus ask what else it could be, even, what the worst might be.

Groopman introduces his book with the story of a woman who over a fifteen-year period had seen almost thirty doctors, had been examined and tested from seemingly all angles, and had grown steadily worse. A consensus had formed that her problems comprised an eating disorder, irritable bowel syndrome, and some sort of mental illness. As she went from one doctor to another, her records followed her, thus the previous diagnoses followed her. Each new diagnosis was some variation of what the doctors read on the records they received. This is a typical pattern in human thinking. If everyone else thinks a certain idea is true, we are apt to think the same way. It is easier than thinking for ourselves.

Grudgingly, Groopman says, the lady went to one more specialist, a doctor who recognized the symptoms for the earlier diagnoses, recognized that the correct measures had been taken to treat these problems, but felt something more was involved. Do you remember that at the foundation of the DIALECTIC is the idea that “no human statement (medical or otherwise) is ever complete by itself; there is always something more?” So, one more unpleasant test was run and it was discovered that she had a condition which, at the time, was relatively unknown: gluten allergy. It explained everything, and with proper treatment, she improved rapidly.

One of the most satisfying comments ever made to me by a student was when Oma came in after class one day and commented: “I notice something different about you from other teachers. No matter what question anyone asks you, you always begin thinking about it from scratch. Unlike other teachers, you don’t seem to reach into your mental cabinet and pull out the well-prepared answer.” Often doctors make the mistake of giving a standard diagnosis when faced with what seems to be a set of standard symptoms. If flu is “going around,” and you come in with the same symptoms, you are apt to be treated for flu with no thought given to it. Like all the rest of us, Groopman says, doctors tend to go with the quick and easy answers. They have other patients waiting.

There are several reasons for this tendency among physicians. They are human. In medical school–just as in our schooling--they are not trained in thinking skills. Rather, they are trained in scientific method. They locate the medical field in the domain of science and understand themselves as scientists. They are also trained to recognize certain patterns of symptoms, tests, and treatment. But the problem is that we don’t all fit these same patterns.

Another problem that mitigates against good thinking is the patient load that limits the doctor’s time to think things through. Good thinking takes time, and doctors simply don’t have time; they seem never to have enough time for all aspects of their work. This problem explodes, Groopman notes, in the emergency room with its crises, patient overload, bed shortage, and impatient patients in the waiting room.

If the situation is to improve, we must take the initiative and ask questions such as: “Doctor, what is the worst this might be,” “what else might it be,” and “why did you say that?”. We must tell our story and the doctor must listen. It is our responsibility to help our doctors think. The DIALECTIC must work if we are to get good medical attention. If your doctor won’t enter in dialogue, change doctors. Your health is at stake.

Chapter 6/2

2010-08-16T15:21:00.000-07:00

Forty-some years ago I had a troubling medical problem myself, so I went to one of the most respected doctors in Fort Worth. After examination, he said, “As soon as you can take off work for two weeks, you need surgery.” The problem was that, at the time, I was dealing with the scholarly demands of doctoral studies, working a forty-hour job, and was married, with three teenagers. There was no way I would ever be able to take off two weeks without serious consequences at home, work, and school.

A friend suggested I see the school physician. He was an old elderly gentleman who devoted one day a week, pro bono, to the school. The rest of the time he was a member of the faculty at Baylor Medical in Dallas. After he examined me, he scoffed at the other doctor’s opinion and told me there was no need of surgery at all. He had a few suggestions for self-help and dismissed me. The first doctor’s call for surgery could be seen as the thesis–the starting point–and the school doctor’s opinion as the antithesis. My problem was real. It was aggravating. I wanted help, but I could see no way to take two weeks off. I felt the tension between the two opinions.

I could not trust expert medical opinion to make the decision. The experts disagreed. Which was right? Or was there, perhaps a third option? Two doctors and I were involved in this dilemma. Ultimately I was in the driver’s seat; I was the controlling agent in this DIALECTIC. The road signs pointed in opposite directions. I decided to trust the old physician and at least postpone the idea of the operating table. I learned to live with the problem and now, more than forty years later, although I still sometimes wonder about surgery, I am glad I went for a second opinion.

Chapter 6/1

2010-08-09T10:01:00.000-07:00

The Medical Dialectic

In the summer of 2009, our daughter had four major surgeries to correct almost unbearable physical problems. It was a medically dialectical summer. The medical dialectic comprise three things: doctor/patient relationship; the doctor’s thought pattern, particularly in diagnosis and choice of treatment; and the nature of medications.

Doctors Are Not Gods

The Dialectic dictates that we live by dialogue with each other. In a medical situation, this means that: we should be prepared to tell the doctor clearly and concisely what we understand our problem to be; the doctor should be a good listener; and she should be prepared to engage her patient in question and answer dialogue. Too often we give our physician an incomplete and somewhat vague account of our symptoms and their history. If our problem is at all serious, we might be wise to take written notes with us lest we forget something important.

In Neil Ravin’s novel, M.D., he tells of a woman who after months of being treated for asthma, told her doctor that she only wheezed when she was in his waiting room, a room furnished with wool-upholstered chairs. And she was allergic to wool. When asked why she had never before mentioned this, she responded that he had never asked. Needless to say, her physician cancelled all her medicines and suggested she stay away from his waiting room. Who was at fault in this situation? Was it the doctor, or the patient? He had not asked, she had not told. No Dialectic at work.

We need to give our doctors the clearest and fullest information we can, and we need doctors who will listen and be willing to deal with our questions. Otherwise, the Dialectic will not work. If we find ourselves with a doctor who has a god complex, one who dictates without listening, a doctor who makes us uncomfortable, nervous, or angry, we should find another physician. If, for some reason, we question the doctor’s decisions, the Dialectic strongly suggests we get a second opinion before proceeding. The doctor-patient relationship is one of the most important elements in our ongoing health.

Earlier, I said that our daughter Cynthia had a medically dialectical summer. She dismissed her family physician and a prominent specialist because of, among other things, unsatisfactory doctor-patient relationships. Moreover, Googling led her to seriously question the procedure the specialist had scheduled. She searched for another specialist from whom she could get second opinion. When she did find the one specialist in the state who was qualified to deal with her specific condition, she found that, even there, she had to separate herself from one of his arrogant nurses.
Cynthia took the initiative for her life and health and did extensive research on her problem. On the World Wide Web, she found that the procedure recommended by the first specialist was dangerous and had many enduring side effects. But, she he was able to track down, via the Internet, the Houston specialist who, by way of three surgeries, ended her problems and restored her to a normal life.

Chapter 5/8 Correction

2010-08-09T07:57:00.000-07:00

In Chapter 5/8 I noted that my wife and I had been married 58 years. I don't know where I got that figure. We have been married 55 years this past January.

Chapter 5/8

2010-08-07T12:41:00.000-07:00

Compromise

Compromise, for all its dangers, risks, and the warnings against it, makes human society possible. Marriage, the home, economics, and politics—whether local, state, national, or international— all live by compromise. It is the glue that holds social structures in place. It is not optional. It is a necessity, a daily necessity. Few things are as risky as compromise, but few are as essential.

One day, my wife and I were filling in and signing some legal forms. One question asked how long we had been married. The answer was fifty-eight years. The notary public who was assisting said, “Wow. That’s impressive. You don’t hear that much anymore. What is your secret?”
“Compromise,” I answered. “Daily compromise. A marriage cannot last, in fact, I don’t think it can exist, without compromise.” Those who study the causes of divorce commonly list—and link—a lack of communication, compromise, and commitment. Marriage is a daily OTOH, BOTOH. It is a complex of countless theses and antitheses, with a constant commitment to finding some degree of synthesis or compromise.

Yes, there are situations where we cannot compromise. When dealing with a state of affairs where the other entity is committed to upholding a single principle, we cannot compromise unless we are willing to subjugate everything else to their one principle. Abraham Lincoln said he was afraid of a “man of principle.” He found them very dangerous. He noted that although we could work with men of principles, with the man of a single principle, we waste our time offering any concessions. They would be taken as signs of weakness, and would change the other side not in the least.

Compromise is the law of life together. It is so necessary and so potentially dangerous, we need to be always prepared to make some concessions, except in those cases where compromise would be disastrous. There is one basic criterion for making a decision in these cases: our values. We need to know what we value, that is, what would we be willing to give up in order to hold on to the things we value. For Patrick Henry, liberty was the highest value. He would not compromise with anything that might cost him his freedom: “Give me liberty or give me death.” We should always be ready to consider making concessions unless we find ourselves in the place where we are unwilling to give at all, where we are prepared to say, “You can kill me, but on this point I will not change. I am prepared to die on this hill.”

Book Almost Complete

2010-08-03T16:03:00.000-07:00

Today I received the galley proofs for this book on considerate thinking, Think like an Octopus: the Key to Becoming a Good Thinker. I should finish this last chance at editing in another day or two. Then it will go to press and be released for sale soon. I will let you know on this blog when the release date is announced.

Tell your friends.

Chapter 5/7

2010-08-03T16:01:00.000-07:00

Philosopher Alfred Whitehead called it “the fallacy of misplaced concreteness.” He was talking about the difference between our ideas and the world of concrete reality.

Concrete reality is the world as it is apart from our understanding of it, our idea of it. It is the world as it actually is—actual individuals, communities, love affairs, wars, businesses, grass, automobiles, clouds, and trombones. It is actual, specific instances of events and things, not our idea of family, of children dying of starvation, or of hurricanes. It is your family, this child named Ndondo that is dying, Hurricane “Katrina.”

The mistake—the fallacy, as Whitehead called it—is mistaking our ideas for actualities. Ideas exist only in our minds. Ideas are mental actualities. They do exist, but only in the world of our thought. The idea of marriage has no concrete reality, there are only actual marriages. The fallacy of misplaced concreteness is to believe we will find our actual marriage to be just like our idea of it. It is to misplace the concrete with the mental.

Barry and Rachel fell in love with each other, so it seemed to them, but more likely than not, they have fallen in love with their idea of each other. “Love is blind” to many concrete realities that the rest of us see. They, however, have composed an idea-lized image of their beloved, based on their dreams and their experience. In the illusory world of courtship, they see in each other only the idea-l.

Then they marry. The honeymoon ends when they find their marriage partner fails to conform to the idea. Marriage—this actual marriage of Rachel and Barry—is, at many points, not like they supposed it would be. Marital problems, at heart, arise from a refusal to accept and adjust to the concrete character of life together.

“You are not the man I married. You have changed.” These words are common in the early years of marriage. But no, neither the husband nor the wife has changed. What has happened is that they have become dis-illusioned. Quite often, our ideas of each other, and of the nature of marriage, are illusions. Yet we allow ourselves to believe the reality will match the illusion. We have made the mistake of misplacing the concrete with a dreamy idea.

Ideas are necessary guides, suggestive of life’s road, of its speed limit, its potholes, curves … but the ideas are not the road any more than a map is the territory it symbolizes.

No matter how good we become as thinkers, we must always remember the distinction between what we think and what actually is, was, or will come to be. This applies to the teacher’s idea of what she will do in the classroom today, the painter’s idea of the picture she is about to paint, our idea of what a church or minister is, or how the boss will respond to any one of our requests.

On the one hand, think, but on the other, remember there are always more “other hands” than we can wrap our minds around. Expect the unexpected.

Consider other perspectives. For some of us, that means we first must realize there are perspectives other than our own. Bill Hendricks, a theologian, was one of the finest men I have known, one of the most brilliant and learned—some believed he even thought in Latin. Some would also say he was rather arrogant. Everyone looked up to him. No one challenged him.

One fall, there came on the faculty a scroungy-looking little Dutchman, also a theologian, named Jan Kiwiet. He was, as someone who knew him said, “a Dutchman in whom there is no guile.” A modest man, he was a published scholar. At a faculty get-together before school started in the fall, Hendricks was pontificating about some doctrinal issue when, to the shock of everyone, Kiwiet, our new man, innocently, but without hesitation, said, “Bill, that’s just what you think. Other theologians, they think different.” Yes, Doctor Hendricks, there are perspectives other than your own, many of which are worthy of consideration.

I have written about considerate thinking and its part in the making of my long, rich, and satisfying marriage. Carol and I entered marriage after thinking, romantically, that we had talked through everything that could be considered. We had done this for more than four years before marriage. We thought we agreed on everything. But, we brought two widely divergent family perspectives to the actual marriage. I was not a considerate thinker at the time of our wedding.

It took years of obstinate and persistent challenges before I, rather than coming down to her level, realized that in reality I was not up to her level. She had a hard time convincing me, against my heritage, that she was a person as much as I was, with the same rights, with a mind of her own. And a sharp mind it was, sometimes coupled with a sharp tongue. I was a slow and highly resistant learner. She was not about to leave me, nor was she about to leave me with my obsolete mindset. I loved her and she persisted. She prevailed. And I became a better man.

She changed my views on sex, money, raising children, television, in-laws, and who knows what all else. I moderated her views on money, religion, housekeeping, and perhaps another thing or two. For long years now, we have thought through almost everything together and arrived at comfortable, practical consensus. Our minds complement each other. We have found that neither of us thinks clearly nor productively unless we depend on mutual input, checks and balances.

Chapter 5/6

2010-07-31T14:59:00.000-07:00

Let’s look at a particular case. Lisa has lived all her life in Grass Valley, California, a small town in the heart of the Gold Rush country. Her father is a carpenter, her mother a clerk in Lew Howard’s Drugstore. Lisa is the youngest of eight children. Her eldest sister has children Lisa’s age. She is the only one in the family to have attended college. She is the most devoutly religious. She is twenty years old.

Tim had lived in eight towns all over Kansas, Oklahoma, and Texas, before going to college. He got his entire high school education from Andy Dekaney High School in Houston, where his father was a petroleum engineer and his mother was a traditional, stay-at-home mom. He has two younger brothers that he has little in common with, except they share the same parents. The family is Presbyterian. Tim lived with Sharly for two years before she left him for another guy. He dated very little for the next year, then began seeing Lisa. He is twenty-five. They met at Oklahoma State University where both were enrolled: she as a sophomore music major, he as a second-year senior marketing major. They have been engaged for a little over a year.

How many different thesis-antithesis-synthesis triads could you make of this? I hope they have spent a good bit of their time together this past year thinking about it, talking about it. For instance, take only one small tension they must deal with. She has two brothers and five sisters, all older and with less education. If she is the thesis, they have been the antitheses, and she now brings to marriage whatever synthesis has been made of that. He is the eldest of three brothers. He has never paid them much attention, while, unbeknownst to him, they have looked on him as their hero. He the thesis, they the antitheses, and he brings to marriage whatever family synthesis this has led to.

The Hegelian dialectic says that all reality exists in this triadic relationship; all history develops dialectically, and, therefore, if we are to be in touch with reality, we must think dialectically—thesis, its antitheses, and the multifarious syntheses possible. Life is complex.

The easiest way to simplify it is to embed “but on the other hand” in our minds. Then be alert and attentive to how much lead time we have before decision must be reached.

Donna was a cut above everyone else in my high school graduating class. We were always a bit in awe of her. She was the smartest and most sophisticated, wealthy and good-looking. Art was the playboy of our class, highly sophisticated, wealthy, handsome, and suave. They married within a year after graduation.
I knew the lady who was their housekeeper. She knew what their marriage was like. And she told me. Donna was often out of the public eye for months at a time, recovering from beatings, waiting for bruises to disappear, and afraid to talk with anyone. She had learned that Art was a heavy-drinking, very abusive man. She took it for three years before putting a bullet through her head.

How did this come about? She was the smartest in our class. Always prepared, always knew the answers, intensely involved, she was loved by all our teachers. Where were her smarts when she said yes to Art Hall? Always thoroughly prepared for classes, why did she not know what she was getting into in this marriage?
My best guess is that, perhaps like most of us, once she “fell in love,” her mind took a vacation. Ordinarily, we give little thought to what marriage involves and what marriage to this particular person entails. We are sure that love will work it all out. Not many take the route of killing either themselves or their spouse, but we are well aware of the numbers who find themselves in miserable and failed marriages.

Herbert and Margaret were the classic high school marriage: a big football hero and the smartest girl in the class. She was committed “until death do us part,” so she stayed with him through all his shady and crooked business dealings. She stayed while he spent a year in prison. Never a happy marriage, but she stayed with him.
When they were in their middle-sixties, they bought an elegant new home. The next year, they celebrated their golden wedding anniversary. Less than a year later, he moved out and rented an apartment across town. Margaret learned of it when she came home from work to an empty house.

Then came the divorce.
(Not long afterward, to the surprise of all of us, she went on a date to Las Vegas with an old man she had just met, and soon they were married.)

After dating Bobby Lee for her first three years of college, Charlene took a philosophy course where I taught the main ideas that I’m presenting in this book. By the middle of November, she had reconsidered a lot of things about marriage, herself, and Bobby Lee. They had been engaged for six months when she came and told me that the course had taught her how to think, and that it led her to realize marriage to Bobby Lee would be a horrible mistake. I didn’t probe, and she didn’t tell me the particulars.

She had put the academic idea of the Dialectic to work, and thought better of the status of her love life. When you learn how to think, and, rather than following others, think for yourself, your life will begin changing, sometimes dramatically.

(Seven years ago, she married a medical student. They now have a handful with three boys, and a new medical practice; the marriage looks good, and they seem happy.)

Don’t get serious about dating anyone without stopping for a dialectical checkup. Don’t even think about marrying, until you have given it a dialectical test. Sex, as prominent, important, and fun as it is, cannot be the main consideration. Trust and reliability should be the foremost considerations. Run as soon as you discover a hot temper—it won’t change, it will only get worse. Finances and in-laws are ignored at great cost. Think like an octopus. There are, always, many other hands to consider.

Chapter 5/5

2010-07-25T12:49:00.000-07:00

Marriage

Her family had lived on the border of poverty all her nineteen years. Frequently, they crossed that border. One day, frustrated from being told again there was no money for a movie, she said, “When I get married, I’m going to marry a rich man.”

Her father’s immediate response, “You’d better marry someone you love.”

“Well, it’s as easy to love a rich man as to love a poor man.”

We marry because we believe there is something to be gained: wealth, prestige, acceptance, stability, power, or whatever else we feel is lacking in our life. We believe marriage can fill that need. Most of us, however, unthinkingly hope to marry the handsome fellow or the beautiful girl with an attractive figure.

My wife once said she married me for my beautiful hair, my beautiful eyes, and my intelligent mind. My hair has long since been gone, and we were married less than four years before she had to see my eyes through the lenses of glasses. I hope I don’t lose my mind. We had our first date sixty years ago, and I would hate to lose her after all this time.

Ideally, we marry for that vague thing called love. Often this indefinable experience, falling in love, overrides all other intentions, hopes, and dreams.

Where does thought come into the picture? Is choosing a marital partner to be given deliberate consideration, or would that remove the romance and reduce the relationship to careful calculation? The philosopher Immanuel Kant, one of the handful of greatest thinkers in history, was once in love, but he realized there were many considerations to be reflected upon. Choosing the idea of marriage as the thesis of his deliberations, he realized the enormity of antitheses, the tensions they raised, and the possible syntheses they might lead to.

On one hand, we should use all the time we have available to think things through before making serious decisions. On the other hand, there are occasions when our time is limited. Sometimes we must decide now or never. Sometimes it is dangerous to wait. Kant did not realize that a prospective bride might grow impatient. Before he had time to consider all that is—or might be—involved in marriage, he learned that she had given up and married someone else. He never married.

Anyone contemplating marriage in the twenty-first century should give some thought to the odds against successful marriage, at least in the United States. When marriage is on your mind, divorce is the most obvious antithesis. Any clear-thinking person must realize the enormous tensions that can develop between the idea of marriage and the potential for divorce, or between the fact of marriage and the possibility of divorce. Being “in love,” while it might be an essential element of a good marriage, provides little assurance of enduring marital stability. Something to think about.
I’ve said that the Hegelian dialectic can be understood simply as the movement from thesis and antithesis to synthesis. I also said that we would need to look beyond this simple pattern into the complexities Hegel had in mind. According to Hegel, we could take our stance anywhere, thus, even an antithesis could be taken as a thesis of its own. The synthesis always becomes a new thesis. Whatever our original thesis, we will find that it is the antithesis to other theses. Each thesis has multiple antitheses and each thesis/antithesis may lead to any number of potential syntheses.

How might this work out when marriage is being considered? Marriage is going to be the synthesis of a male and a female. Ordinarily, however, little thought is given to the obvious: he will think like a man, she like a woman. And men and women are different. This tension will increase across time, being reconciled only as a succession of syntheses are reached.

Chapter 5/4

2010-07-06T07:41:00.000-07:00

Getting married made me a better thinker. I am a man and men need to hear from women if they are to complete their thoughts, and if they are to clarify what they think. That is one reason I married. That way I always have a woman handy to serve as my antithesis, my complement—the yin to my yang.

Without dialogue I cannot become a whole person. If in the home we don’t share our inner lives, we remain family, but are familiar with each other only in a limited sense. Without the exchange of ideas, plans, hopes, and fears, we never live in community on this earth. Our pain, our emptiness, and our horrors are, in large measure, rooted in our lack of dialogue. It is a historical commonplace that the declaration of war is immediately preceded by the announcement that “talks have broken off.” They usually have broken down because the negotiation between diplomats is, too often, an exchange of reciprocal monologues. Each tries to convince the other side, but neither seeks to hear and understand the other’s heritage, position, predicament, or philosophy.

However, we are stuck with each other. Our radical individualism and egoism cannot eliminate all the others—people, nature, and God—linked with our life. The twentieth-century French thinker Jean-Paul Sartre argued that “hell is other people,” but he also tells us there is NO EXIT from this world of others. We are inescapably social, made for relationship, and directly linked with the natural order. If we fail to take others into account, we risk denying our humanity and destroying hope for a human and global future. Because everything is ultimately connected and interrelated in one great ecosystem, we must acknowledge otherness, listen and respond to it, and work toward a more satisfying harmony of all its parts, including the part that is our self. Apart from dialogue, we are doomed.
On the other hand, we have available a method of thinking and living that can clear the way to a more promising, satisfying, and humane future. That method is the Dialectic.

Chapter 5/3

2010-07-04T16:07:00.000-07:00

Daddy died in 1997. The night before the funeral—at which I was to be the speaker—I stood beside his open casket looking into that face I had known for sixty-three years and cried in lonely anger for the years of opportunity lost to both of us. So few were the hours we ever listened to each other. Precious as those times were, they never began to fill the void that I felt in my relationship to a man who, for nearly forty years, was one of the most loved and respected humans ever known in Blackwell, Oklahoma and Gainesville, Texas. He was a truly great man and, in my confusion and anger, I still was able to speak appreciatively of him to the hundreds who came to the funeral. But I miss him, and not just now; I always did.

Was he afraid? Was he afraid of what he might hear if he listened? Was he afraid that if he revealed much of himself I would lose some degree of respect? There were a few times late at night, after I was an adult, when he hinted at a self-image that he dared not acknowledge. He told me, once, that he wore the stern face and used the no-nonsense voice to ward off any attempt to penetrate his defenses.

Isn’t that the all-too-common human story, at least in the United States? We are afraid to let conversation move much deeper than a recitation of socially accepted pattern of speech. There is a certain reciprocity, but not much, in our exchanges about how we feel, what we think of the weather, the economy, our favorite TV show, or our favorite ball team. I suspect that sports and gossip bring us closest to anything that resembles true dialogue. Beyond that we guard ourselves, and continue to inhabit a silent loneliness.

Mother was different. She was a patient listener—usually. I could talk with Mother about anything—and at length—and did so for over three-quarters of a century. In her presence I could express myself knowing that I was not likely to be squelched. I could dream dreams that had no possibility of being realized in the real world. So I felt much closer to Mother than to Daddy. On the other hand, Mother mostly listened. She never said much, told me little of what she thought about my words, and gave little advice and few instructions. Except on one or two subjects—bird-watching was one—she rarely revealed many of her own thoughts, feelings, or dreams (I’ve often wondered what they were). She listened to my monologues, knowing that listening, all by itself, is good for the human soul and some of the best therapy possible.

So I was raised in a home that knew little dialogue. It was a family with three brothers, who each went his own way, only occasionally acknowledging the existence of the others. I doubt that we were an unusual American family. And other societies would doubtless recognize this experience.

I don’t know how well this describes the homes in which Mother and Daddy themselves grew up, but I have heard enough from cousins and other family members to believe my parents’ homes were much like mine, and that the pattern could be traced back for at least a generation or two. And I fear that my own daughters might see this as a description of their father and their own experience. (My wife was a different kind of mother to our children. She and our daughters dialogued; they connected, not always in the best way, but they got involved in trying to know and be known. This remains true, and continues with our grandchildren. Because of her, we are a close-knit family. Her family was much the same, and I’m sure other such families exist.)

Somehow we don’t take time for each other; we don’t listen to those nearest to us. We are family, that is, we are familiar with each other, but don’t know each other. And, thus, we don’t know ourselves. Without the opportunity to learn what others feel and think, we don’t understand clearly our own inner life. Without sharing our thoughts and feelings with someone else, our own self-perception remains out of focus. We can know ourselves only in dialogue with others.

Chapter 5/2

2010-06-18T09:17:00.000-07:00

Daddy listened to his church members--actually to everyone in the community--better than he did to his three sons. Many of you might say the same thing about your fathers. Fathers often engage in more genuine dialogue on the job than they do at home. One reason is that, like my father, there are many dads who spend precious little of their time at home, and when they do get home, they are already talked out and tired. Maybe that is the reason. I don’t know. I do know that Daddy rarely seemed to hear me, and that there was so much I wanted to say. But, before I really got started trying to make some sort of connection, Daddy would stop me with clear dogmatic instructions guaranteed to get my life moving on the right track--before he even knew what I was attempting to say. He was good at discouraging dialogue.

For the first thirty years of my life I felt that he never really heard much I was trying to say. Across the next thirty-three we had a few times when we heard each other and responded to what we heard. Sometimes we argued late into the night, long after others had gone to bed, closing their doors to shut out some of our fierce and loud efforts to understand and to reconcile. And there were times--rare times--of confession. Daddy actually listened as I confessed fears, weaknesses, disappointment, and anger. To my amazement, on two or three occasions, Daddy confessed the same to me. On those occasions I was thrilled that he treated me as a real person, as a confidant, as someone he loved and trusted.

Chapter 5/1

2010-06-12T17:00:00.000-07:00

The DIALECTIC at Home

Home is where life gets itself together (or pulls itself apart). Home is our first school. Rebel against it as we may, the DIALECTIC of home life cannot be shaken. It shapes our thought, habit and action more than we are aware of. We are much more like our parents than we suppose. On the other hand, to the degree that we rebel against parental example, it is that example that is calling the shots, telling us what we do not want to become. As with most of us, I was a parent, perhaps even a grandparent, before my DIALECTICal relationship with home came into focus.

Are You Listening?

Deep into his sermon, he would lean over the pulpit and ask, "Dear hearts tonight, are you listening?" That was a long time ago but I can still hear him addressing his congregation with that old-timey phrase of endearment. Daddy used the rhetoric of a bygone era, but everyone in the church knew that they were dear to him, and, we knew he wanted us to pay attention because his sermons were punctuated repeatedly with, "Are you listening?” After all, what is the point of preaching if nobody is listening?

And what about us? What can we accomplish in our conversations if no one is listening? If we are going to live with each other, we will have to listen, hear, and acknowledge each other. If I don't listen, or at least look, I may not realize it when you are hurting and that you are about to go under unless someone comes to your rescue. If I don't listen, I may not realize how much you care, or even that you care, about me or about whatever might be the issue at hand at any given time. If we don't listen to each other, we each merely speak our own respective and reciprocal monologues. Except when presented by professional entertainers, most monologues quickly become boring. We need dialogue. We need to hear each other.

Daddy's, "Dear hearts tonight," (he didn't often use this term with the Sunday morning crowd) "are you listening," was not a strictly rhetorical question; he actually wanted to see it in their eyes, their posture, and even in the expression of their faces; he wanted to know that they were engaged with him.

Yet the sermons–as most sermons--were monologues. He would not have appreciated it if someone had spoken out with an answer; his question was more a device to maintain or recover attention. On the other hand, I might be wrong, as I have been so many times about Daddy. It is too late now for me to ask him, but although he didn't expect spoken response he might have actually welcomed it; he might have welcomed the opportunity to engage in true dialogue about the Christian gospel. The more I think about it, the more I suspect that he might have welcomed it. But neither he nor the congregation of six or eight hundred people expected it because that is not part of the accepted pattern of public worship. I wonder what might happen if immediate spoken feedback became an expected part in the sermon?

On the other hand, if the preacher is to expect his congregation to listen, he had better have been listening to them during the week. If he doesn't know their problems, hopes, fears, dreams, doubts, excitements, moral dilemmas, existential crises, laughter and tears, his sermon may miss the people completely. They may continue to come, thinking it is somehow important that they be in church Sunday morning, but it will not be long before they stop listening with any sense of expectation and hope. Preaching will be boring--an accurate description of altogether too many Sunday mornings. Again, what about all the rest of us and all the talking we do? If you don't listen to me, why should I listen to you.

Chapter 4/11

2010-06-09T09:41:00.000-07:00

Conversational DIALECTIC

Although some would distinguish conversation from the DIALECTIC, in the broad sense, conversation is an aspect of the DIALECTIC. The Socratic dialogues, although conversational in appearance, are more focused than an ordinary conversation. Whereas it is normal for a conversation to make many shifts of subject matter and operate on varying levels of intensity, the Socratic dialogue sticks to the subject, pursues an objective, and excludes discussion of trivia. In this sense, the DIALECTIC and conversation can be distinguished. Nonetheless there is value in recognizing the DIALECTICal character of free conversation.

In a conversation, varying points of view emerge, and are sometimes challenged by someone of another persuasion. Even the common free associational shifts of topic make the important contribution of bringing up topics and perspectives that have not before been considered by some of the participants. The DIALECTIC is involved wherever differing positions are recognized and dealt with.

Chapter 4/10

2010-06-08T12:18:00.000-07:00

On one hand, the pattern is more complex that I have described, but on the other hand, it can be understood more simply: Hegel started with Being vs. Nonbeing and synthesized these with Becoming. We might look at black, white, and gray (or colors); male, female, and the reproduction of the species; truth, falsehood, and the fuzzy, ambiguous mix and mess that is the reality in which we live.

We must remember that the antithesis is not always the opposite of the thesis. For instance, if paper is the thesis, what would we understand as its opposite? Canvas, pencil, fire? Depending on the context, many things might be understood as the antithesis of paper, although not necessarily its opposite?

The synthesis may be only a slight modification of the original thesis, it may be the midpoint between thesis and antithesis, or anywhere between. It might even be much closer to the original antithesis than to the original thesis. Nonetheless, because the synthesis is a more satisfactory position than either of the earlier options, it 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 calm, the resolution is challenged. This, Hegel believed, is the pattern of all reality.

The root reason for this is that all is related, everything is connected, and we cannot escape all the others–personal and impersonal--in our relational world. We are not absolute; we cannot isolate ourselves. We are linked inextricably with each other, with the entire ecosystem.

Chapter 4/9

2010-06-04T08:51:00.000-07:00

Remember Heraclitus and the unity of opposites (thesis and antithesis)? Remember he said that conflict is the source of everything? Now look at your triangle, at the bottom corners, your thesis and antithesis, and give your attention to the line between them. This line carries their differences, puts them into active conflict, puts our mind into tension. Thought is the business of recognizing both ends of the line–thesis and antithesis–and seeking the best way to resolve the tension between.

The answer may come quickly or it may take hours, months, or years. Meanwhile the thesis and antithesis (antitheses) are in dialogue with each other in a growing DIALECTICal tension. Feeling the tension, you go to a specialist for a second opinion. The new physician sees no need for surgery. Now the tension increases between two medical opinions. What should you do? You trust your family doctor, but the specialist is the best in the state. Weeks pass, weeks of indecision and anxiety. Subconscious tension builds. You lose sleep, become irritable, eat all the time, and your condition worsens.

You decide to go ahead with surgery, but meanwhile you have begun googling for help. Repeatedly you find reference to a new medicine for your problem. You ask your doctor about it. He tells you that surgery and the new medication together would work the best.

After surgery you are given a prescription for the new drug, and within a few months everything has cleared up and you feel like your old self again. You are now at the peak of the Hegelian triangle/triad. You have reached a synthesis of the thesis and antithesis.

Thesis, antithesis, and synthesis–the recurrent pattern of the DIALECTIC according to Georg Hegel. The synthesis does not come about as a gradual progression from a foundational beginning. Rather, it is through the opposition between a thesis with which you take your stand and an antithesis that stands in challenging opposition to it. It is a struggle, tension, uncertainty that rules until a synthesis finally emerges. Rather than a smooth and gradual movement up the side angles, it is more as if the synthesis pops directly up, jumps out of the tension between surgery and the options.

It is a rule of the Hegelian DIALECTIC that every thesis has an antithesis. Moreover, every synthesis comes to be seen as a more satisfying place to take our stand. Thus, it becomes our new thesis. It doesn’t take long to realize that there are new antitheses, and the process starts all over again.

In this book I will not limit the DIALECTIC to the Hegelian version of it, but his systematic logic is very useful. We will refer to it often.

Chapter 4/8

2010-05-30T18:21:00.000-07:00

“The Dialectic Is Logical, Ontological, and Historical.”

Before we leave the philosophers and go back to the world the rest of us live in, we need to look at one more of them, Georg W. F. Hegel. (With Hegel, we must slow our reading down and study carefully, think about what he has to say.) Hegel believed that the DIALECTIC is what everything is all about. Specifically, he said, “The dialectic is logical, ontological, and historical”; it is how our minds work, what is fundamentally and ultimately real, and how all history moves. Everything is DIALECTICal (thus, the DIALECTIC is the only way to understand anything).

Not only did Hegel believe that all reality is DIALECTICal, he also systematized it, reduced it to a logical order, an order that always involved three processive elements.

I suggest you now find a blank sheet of paper and draw a triangle–one line across the base with two lines converging to a point at the top. Hegel thought in such triangular patterns, or as he called them, triads. Think of the bottom left corner as the starting point of your thinking, action, or understanding, the place you hold to, where you take your stand, what you believe or plan or hope for.

This position, Hegel called, your thesis. It might be anything from your income to your job or hobby. It could be spiritualism, surgery, snack food, the school board, or anything else that might be the starting point–the thesis–for your thought.

Now look to the bottom right corner of the triangle. Hegel called this the anti-thesis. By this he meant anything that stands apart from your basic thesis. It could be its enemy, its opposite, or merely something left out or ignored by the thesis. It is something to be considered over and against your thesis.

Suppose, for instance, your thesis is an illness for which the doctor has recommended surgery. The surgery is scheduled and seems to be the best course of action. On the other hand, you are uneasy about going under the knife, and there are medicines that sometimes take care of the problem without resort to surgery. This medicine would be an antithesis to surgery. (Ordinarily, there are many antitheses although only one or two may be significant.)

Again, acupuncture might be a promising option, another antithesis to consider. You may imagine other possible antitheses to surgery, including foregoing the operation and taking your chances without medical treatment.

Chapter 4/7

2010-05-23T10:42:00.001-07:00

Socrates would then ask them to explain what they meant by some key word or phrase, particularly when they used the heavy words: justice, love, courage, good, excellence, integrity, or beauty. When they had explained how they were using words or sentences, he then suggested that if this is what they meant, then something else, something they could not accept, would have to be true. By continual questioning, he showed their definitions to be inadequate, incomplete, or even self-contradictory.

Let’s suppose one of us commented on the beauty of a rich red rose on a bush and the other asked what she had meant by beauty. Further suppose the answer was, “Just look at the rich red color, have you ever seen anything more beautiful?”

“Oh, so you mean that the beauty of the rose lies in its redness.”
“Yes, that’s what makes it beautiful.”
“So, if we see a pure yellow rose, we cannot say it is beautiful, because it is not red.”
“No, that’s not what I mean. A yellow rose can be beautiful, as can a pink or a white one.”
“Ah, so do you mean that beauty lies in pure, rich color?”
“Yes, that is exactly what I mean.”
“Look across the street at the young lady on the sidewalk. Don’t you think she is beautiful?”
“She is very beautiful. That is Jessica Taylor, everyone knows how beautiful she is.”
“Does her beauty reside in the color of her skin, or of her hair, her eyes, or her clothing?”
“No, there is more to beauty than color.”
“So, what is this ‘more’ you speak of?”

In such manner Socrates led others to rethink their ideas. His goal was to expose ignorance so that the search for truth could begin. All of this was done through guided, persistent, and purposive conversation. The resolution of the issue at hand always depended on the interaction between the two conversants. Socrates never told others his own ideas, but rather led them to think through their own. Teachers, lawyers, parents, and others have picked up this “Socratic method” and continue to use it to this day. This is Socrates’ use of the DIALECTIC.

Chapter 4/6

2010-05-17T09:30:00.000-07:00

Everything Can Be Questioned

We don’t know much about Heraclitus himself. In the ancient world he was called “Heraclitus the Obscure.” We don’t know what drove his thinking. With Socrates, however, we can have a good idea of what he was about. He wanted people to think about and think through whatever they had to say, particularly if they were dealing with life issues. He found that most people he talked with did not understand what they were talking about. Their mental laziness amazed him.

The word got out in Athens that the Delphic Oracle had declared Socrates to be the wisest man in the entire city. Socrates knew that could not be true because there was so much he did not understand. Thus he began a search to find those who were wiser, those who were not as ignorant as Socrates knew himself to be. He went to the most respected, the most successful, the most powerful citizens and questioned them about their knowledge and understanding. Repeatedly he found that they knew and understood even less than he did. He realized that much of the time they did not know what they were talking about.

So, after seeking out all those who might be wiser, he decided that the oracle was right. He, after all, was the wisest, in the sense that he was at least aware of his ignorance; at least he did not pretend to understand things. The Socratic wisdom and the Socratic ignorance were synonymous. He came to believe that “the god” (he was a Greek monotheist) had called him to help his fellow citizens become good people by becoming good thinkers.

The Socratic DIALECTIC takes the form of intense, purposive conversation. Socrates never allows the dialogue to degenerate into a mere bull-session or a bantering of the conventional wisdom. He kept the conversation directed toward clarification of the problem at hand. His method was to ask if his fellow conversants meant what they said. Usually, just like us, they claimed that indeed, they meant what they said, they knew what they were talking about.

Chapter 4/5

2010-05-06T18:53:00.000-07:00

The Unity of Opposites

Heraclitus stressed the unity of opposites. He believed that contradiction is the source of everything. Only as both sides struggle 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: male and female, night and day, work and play, nature and technology, emotion and reason,. . . .

Heraclitus is most famously known as the ancient who claimed we can’t step twice into the same river. The river flows constantly. The river we step into the second time is not precisely the same as it was when we took that first step. The current changes continually. The chemical makeup of the water varies slightly each time we dip into it. Everything about it is in flux. In fact, that is a core idea of Heraclitus: everything is in flux, everything flows, nothing remains the same. The only thing permanent is change.

Moreover, when we step into the river the second time, we are no longer the same person who took that first step. We now have experienced the river as we had not before our first step. We, like the river, are constantly in flux. When I was a boy setting trotlines in the Chikaskia river in northern Oklahoma, it seemed to me that it was always the same river, the Chikaskia. Much in life does seem to be constant. Much appears unchanging, but Heraclitus is the apostle of change. Everything changes constantly, even if infinitesimally.

Thus, we must always take into account that things might differ from what experience tells us. We must learn to look for what the eye of habit, the mind of habit, neither sees nor thinks. Heraclitus bids us, like the highway sign at the railroad tracks, to Stop, Look, and Listen. We must look both directions–and also up and down–before proceeding with life. We must make DIALECTICal thinking our new eye and mind of habit.

Chapter 4/4

2010-05-02T17:08:00.000-07:00

Among the Philosophers

I first discovered the DIALECTIC deep within the pages of a book on General Philosophy, by Elton Trueblood. Trueblood gives it only a half-dozen pages, but for me, it resonated immediately. My way of thinking, understanding, analyzing–and my way of living–was transformed and has never been the same. The DIALECTIC became a major part of who I am.

But none of the ideas in this book (well, almost none) are original with me. The DIALECTIC is not something new. It has been around at least since the DIALECTICal relationship of Adam and Eva, whoever they were. It is ancient. I am merely attempting to present, in a way that is simple, clear, fairly complete, and useful, what others before me have practiced and taught.

Historically, three major philosophers--Heraclitus, Socrates, and Hegel--developed the DIALECTIC, each somewhat differently.

Chapter 4/3

2010-04-29T18:03:00.000-07:00

More of the Story

As noted earlier, Mortimer Adler has said that the Greek words, men and de, are the greatest contribution the Greeks made to civilization. Quite a claim. A DIALECTICal claim. These words are commonly translated, “on the one hand,” “but 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 translated at all, but it always indicates that a particular aspect of something is being presented. When, somewhere later in the text, de, shows up, it indicates that we are looking from a different perspective.

Whatever is being presented, the good thinker’s characteristic response is, “But 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.

Paul Harvey’s The Rest of the Story is an instance of the DIALECTIC. “ For more than sixty years on the radio he told us stories, true stories, but saved a surprising twist to end with. When he had told this last information, he ended saying, “And now you know . . . the rest of the story.” On one hand was the story; on the other hand we learned the rest of the story.

There is always more to be said. In a sense, the scholar’s footnotes are the same sort of thing. There are many kinds of footnotes. Sometimes they tell us the source of the noted material, sometimes they refer us to other pages or other books that will tell us more about what has been noted in the text, and at other times they add explanation, definition, or asides.

The 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 constantly searching, the DIALECTICal voice is always considerate of the listener. Whether we think of family or workplace relationships, love or any other of life’s relationships, they are bound to disappoint, disintegrate, diminish, or fail without the DIALECTIC.

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, then focusing. It grows and is enriched, it sharpens and clarifies.

Chapter 4/2

2010-04-26T18:35:00.000-07:00

Dialectic

The DIALECTIC is rooted in the idea of dialogue. The core idea is that other perspectives, positions, and possibilities must always be taken into account. The DIALECTIC seems to be rooted in a principle that can be expressed in three differing ways.

• No human statement is ever complete by itself.

By the word statement we should understand this is not necessarily a single sentence. Sometimes a paragraph makes a single statement. A speech may do that, 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, and therefore, is never the whole truth.

• There is always more that can be said.

Always there is something else 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 reduced to a single statement.

• It is always possible that we might be wrong.

In whatever we think or say, we could, on occasion, be wrong. To believe otherwise is to claim that we are infallible, that we are never mistaken. But humans are not infallible. We do make mistakes, and often.

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 approach the full 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 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. (At one point I considered using “Considerate Thinking” as the title of this book. Consideration is what it is all about.)

Several months after an automobile accident with a driver in a stolen car, the accident that totaled our Buick, the police finally found the offender and a date was set for his trial. I was called to court as a witness. Judge Ellis’s docket was full, so I sat through two afternoons of trials by the judge before they got to our case. As I listened, I began to realize that being sworn in was going to present me with a problem. As a philosopher, I realized that I could not tell the truth about the accident because it all happened so fast and so much was involved that I had the truth only as I remembered it. Moreover, I was not in position to know the whole truth. And again, I knew that it was always possible that I, as a human being, could be wrong. How could I swear “to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth” (whether with God’s help or not)?

In a court of law, we may “swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth,” but the truth is we cannot do what we swear to do. We can never know the whole, and often, unintentionally, some of what we say may be in error. The DIALECTIC automatically searches 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 some modification of his own thought.

One task of a courtroom is the effort to determine, as best is possible, what the truth is. It should not be assumed that any one witness could establish the irrefutable truth. Fortunately, I never had to face the issue because the case was settled out of court. I was saved from confrontation with the traditional oath.

Chapter 4/1

2010-04-21T08:27:00.000-07:00

The Dialectic

Exactly what is the DIALECTIC? It can be most easily understood by contrast, the contrast between dialogue and monologue. A monologue is an extended uninterrupted speech by a character in a drama, often a one-person monologue spoken to an audience. In a monologue only one person speaks. No response from others is allowed. You are probably familiar with the dramatic monologue as a form of popular entertainment featuring someone like Bill Cosby, Jerry Seinfeld, David Letterman, or Tevye in Fiddler on the Roof.

In contrast, a dialogue includes at least two speakers responding to each other. What each says is influenced by what the other has said. They may have meant to say one thing but had to change because what the other person has said requires a response other than what they had intended.

However, 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 each are attempting a fundamentally uninterrupted and extended speech. We have something we want to get said. When someone else interrupts us, we pay little attention to what they have to say. We are just waiting for a break in their monologue so we can resume our own monologue. Although more than one speaker is involved, there is no interactive dialogue taking place.

A Responsibility to Think

2010-04-15T08:41:00.000-07:00

We Have a Responsibility to Think

Thinking is not what life is all about, but it is a vital part of it. Thinking shapes our decisions, and our decisions shape our actions. Thought seeks truth in order to make decisions as a basis for action, as an aspect of living and understanding the meaning of our lives. Whatever else might be involved, thought includes, at least: analysis, synthesis, comparison, contrast, implication, evaluation, imagination, arrangement, and review. Our study will enhance all these.

Better thinking leads to better living. Just as certainly as every normal person can walk and talk, so everyone can think--and, you can, without question, learn to be a much better thinker.

Not only is it in our own best interest to become better thinkers, we have a moral obligation to think more clearly in order to make better moral decisions. Many of the bad things that happen in the lives of both individuals and society are because, as a blundering friend of mine says from time to time, “I just didn’t think about that.” We have a moral and social, as well as prudential obligation to think about that.

A dominant reason for the prevalence of divorce is that there are many important things people just don’t think about before marriage. I am sure that Garth Brooks’ song, “Unanswered Prayers,” resonated for a lot of people. The song tells of a fellow who, in high school wanted a particular girl so much that he prayed God would let him have her. But he didn’t get her. Years later, with his wife, he saw her at a football game, and, seeing the changes in both her and in him, wound up extremely grateful that God had not answered his prayer.

(God was good to me; I got the one I prayed for, and have been grateful for almost sixty years).
Whether we think about marriage and family or other social issues, one of the major ways to develop a better society filled with good people is to learn and determine to think more clearly, completely, and creatively. I hope you share that conviction and dream.

Chapter 3/3

2010-04-13T08:50:00.000-07:00

Good thinking at its best, includes considerations of three different but interconnected sorts. First we must consider perspectives other than our own: we must think DIALECTICally. Further, we must consider the implications of our ideas: we must think logically. Finally, we must consider our own mind, heart, and aim in life: we must think purposively. In keeping with these three essential Good thinking at its best, includes considerations of three different but, the book comprises three parts.

Part One lays out the basics of the DIALECTIC and explores its fundamental nature, which is consideration of others and other ways of thinking and living. It expands DIALECTICal thought and shows how it is involved in all aspects of our daily lives and what it can contribute to those lives. It also introduces the concept of bipolar understanding. When we become aware of the bipolarity that pervades our world, many of our disturbing dilemmas and contradictions evaporate. Our lives adjust to a more rhythmic and harmonic resolution of common tensions.

Part Two offers a user-friendly survey of the most useful elements of logical thinking. Much of part two we already know as commonsense, but it will help to bring that commonsense into sharper focus. It describes the fundamental nature of logic: a method of assuring consistency in what we say, how we think, and ultimately, how we live. It distinguishes, in clear and simple language, the difference between deductive and inductive logic.

Part Three addresses the content and purpose of our thinking. As I said earlier, the DIALECTIC is the key to good thinking; it is the heart of the book. Logic sharpens the abilities of the DIALECTICal thinker. It makes you more than a good thinker; you become a better thinker. But neither of these tells you what to think nor even why you think, any more than a pencil or a word processor tells you what to write or for what purpose. Neither the DIALECTIC nor logic has any content. They can be used effectively by both the scoundrel and the saint--as well as the rest of us.

If we are to become the best thinker possible, we have to consider who we are and what we are about in life. Part Three helps us clarify what we believe to be the truth about life, what we are personally convinced of: our basic convictions. In part three we will become more aware of our personal values--not only what we believe to be true, but what we believe to be important and worth giving ourselves to. It challenges us to determine and decide what we want out of life, and more importantly, what we want to become. Finally, it shows that all our thinking, DIALECTICal and logical, is rooted in and aimed toward the things emphasized in Part Three. In the end, it pulls the entire book together, correlating the elements that go into making us the best thinker we can possibly become.

Chapter 3/2

2010-04-11T11:38:00.000-07:00

It Is Not too Late

As I said, I was almost forty-years-old. You are not too old; it is not too late. You can learn to think. And again, it is easy.

I have heard that if you can walk you can dance, if you can talk you can sing, and if you can write you can draw. To my amazement I learned, in middle-age, that all this is true. I am not a good dancer, but I can dance; only a fair singer, but I sing; and I’ve learned to draw quite well. I had never thought I could. I have also learned that if you think at all, you can become a good thinker–probably not an Einstein, but a respected thinker nonetheless.

What You Will Gain from this Book

Skill in developing, correcting, and expanding your own ideas and insights.
Skill at critiquing what you hear and read from others.
Skill in functioning as an effective team or committee member.
You will become a more convincing and respected speaker and writer.
You will begin to persuade your critics to seriously consider your position.
You will become more logical in all you think and do.
You will easily spot the illogical and inconsistent in all you hear and read.
You will learn to see more clearly where others are coming from.
You will easily distinguish mere probabilities from inescapable necessities.
Your use of language will become increasingly clearer.
You will come to think before you speak.
You will come to know yourself better.
You will come to see more clearly where your thought is coming from.
You will come to see more clearly where your own thinking is headed.
You will learn much about the DIALECTIC of life itself.
You will develop a greater appreciation of other people.
You will become a wiser and more considerate person.
Your life will become richer, more productive, and more wonder-filled.

YOU WILL BECOME:

A person whose ideas must be reckoned with.
A person of greater integrity.
A person who is rarely blind-sided.
A better conversationalist
A better learner.
More honest, modest, and moderate.
More confident
More respected and more respectful.
More patient and appreciative.
More open to change
More courteous, considerate, and sympathetic.
More patient and less arrogant.
More aware, and less apt to go off half-cocked.

We think in order to clarify, comprehend, and create--ultimately in order to decide, to appreciate, and thus, to act and become. If we don’t think, we live muddled, uncomprehending lives, stuck in the habitual and overwhelmed by a complicated world. We make wrong decisions, appreciate little, do things we regret and that harm us, and never become persons of character and wisdom.

Chapter 3/1

2010-04-05T09:08:00.000-07:00

General George Patton’s Advice

General George Patton said: “Never tell people how to do things. Tell them what to do and they will surprise you with their ingenuity.”

That depends on the people and the task. I am certain that General Patton always made sure before taking his troops into battle that they had been taught “how” to aim and fire their weapons, how to disassemble and clean them, and how to operate and maintain their tanks and other vehicles. He wanted, as a minimum, that his men had been through basic training in military “hows.”
Patton did not take raw recruits straight from the streets, schools, factories, and farms, put them on the battlefield, and then order them to defeat the enemy. He did not win his great victories simply by telling his soldiers what to do and leaving it up to their ingenuity to figure out how to do it.

We often follow Patton’s advice. We tell people to “Think about it,” or “Think it over,” and we ask, “Why didn’t you think?” But we cannot assume that, left to their own ingenuity, people will know how to think. They may not. But they can learn. After you have read this book, you will know how to think.

Needed: a Method

We don’t require much instruction before we can use a computer effectively, but we do need to be taught how to perform a few simple procedures. We don’t need much instruction before we can drive an automobile, but we do need some instruction and practice before we can safely drive a car. We do not need much instruction before becoming able to think better than most people. Although some of us might be good thinkers by nature, most of us require, and all of us can benefit from some special instruction and practice.

After reading and practicing the next chapter, you will have completed basic training as a thinker. That will be enough to satisfy some of you. That may be all of this book you read. Learning how to read easy music and play the piano was enough for me. That was all that I had serious interest in learning. No advanced musical training for me, no long hours of practice. Just occasional playing, usually with one finger on the right hand, for my own ears is good enough for my own entertainment.
If, however, you want to become good as a thinker, you will find benefit in every chapter. You may find yourself living on higher ground than you would ever have imagined possible. What makes me suggest that?

I assume you are not like dim-witted Harry Robarts in Patrick White’s novel, Voss. Harry was “glad to offer his services to someone who might think for him.” On the contrary, you are already a thinker of some sort or you would not have picked up this book. If you are already a good thinker, you will rapidly improve all your thought processes. Whatever your situation, you can do it.

No, this is not a gimmick, not a “limited time only” offer, not a trick of some kind. I am not a writer looking for an idea to sell; I am a teacher. I don’t deal in gimmicks and commercial ideas. For the past thirty years I have dealt with ideas and thought; I am a philosophy teacher. My students have dug into Plato and Aristotle, Kant, Kierkegaard, Comte, and Nietzsche. They have investigated epistemology, existentialism, ontology, and axiology (language you won’t find used in this book). The clue to good thinking isn’t a passing fad. It has been tested rigorously for centuries. Now I make it available to you, without big words and without any need on your part to know and understand philosophy.

My entire reputation--limited as it is to a small area of central Texas where I have chosen to quietly enjoy life-- has been built on my ability to teach people to think. When students leave my classes, they often say I am the first teacher in all their schooling who has made them think, and who has helped them learn how to think. When I speak in public, the most common responses are, “I’d never thought about that before,” “You make us think,” and, “You gave us something to think about.” The other common response is, “You make it so easy to understand,” and “You make it so simple.” That is what I can do for you. I have written this book because, after spending my whole career in the classroom at a remote little university, my students have insisted that I need to write so I can teach the process of good thinking to a larger classroom. One that includes you.

Before you have finished reading the next chapter, you will have the tool that will change and improve the way you think. You can put that tool to work immediately. If you read no further than that, you will be well on your way to developing a reputation as a good thinker. People will begin to recognize that your ideas are a force to be dealt with. Of course I hope you read the rest of the book. Reading it will help you understand what you are working with, and it will show you how to use the DIALECTIC in all areas of life.

I know you can do it because I have been teaching DIALECTICal thinking for more than thirty years and have seen all sorts of people become good thinkers. Many of them became better people in the process. Some didn’t. Their thought processes were improved, but their character was untouched. Jesus, in a story about a sower who lost three quarters of the seed he planted, seemed to tell his followers to expect only limited success. But he said that where there was appropriate response, success would be astounding. I hope for something like that for my readers.

Chapter 1/6 (new addition)

2010-03-30T10:11:00.000-07:00

Think like an Octopus

“On the other hand.” That’s the silver bullet. That’s all it takes to become a good thinker. It’s that simple. But on the other hand, it helps to notice still another hand.

I was sitting at the breakfast table, reviewing plans for my first philosophy class of the day. I was thinking specifically about the dialectic. Then I remembered that I had a problem student in that class. I only had three problem students in thirty-some years of teaching. This was one of them. He was one of those back row, disruptive whisperers. I had spoken to him a couple of times about it, to no avail. He seemed to have a lack of respect for me. So I shifted my mind from preparation for class to preparation for dealing with this aggravation.

I spent two years in the army as basic training officer. I have experience in sounding tough, and I can make the appropriate face to go along with the speech. I’ve never used that style in teaching. However, that morning, I was considering it. On the other hand, I could quietly inform him that if the whispers did not cease, he would receive an “F” in the class. On the other hand, I wasn’t sure that would be a fair course of action. In fact, he might dare me to try it (he was the kind to do that). On the other hand, I had to do something because he was disrupting the class. So, on the other hand . . . Wait a minute, how many other hands do I have?

On the other hand is the dialectical formula. It is the way. But on which other hand. Mentally, we have more than two hands. Our left hand has its own right and left hands, and they have theirs. We need to think on as many hands as possible. We need to learn to think like an octopus. An octopus can think “on the other hand” several times before he runs out of perspectives to consider.
The way to become a good thinker is to think like an octopus. Usually there are many hands to consider. Each hand has other hands itself. Don’t forget the left hand. Like a construction supervisor, hire other hands if they are needed. Don’t settle on an answer, conclusion, or idea until you have to because there are always these other hands to turn to. We will never have time to check them all out, but don’t quit early, especially if there is much at stake.

Think dialectically, consider others–even your enemies, maybe especially your enemies, and think like an octopus thinking on all eight hands. However, if we seek to examine all hands, can we ever make a decision?

At some point we have to cut off thought and act on the best judgment we can make at the time–always realizing that what we do may turn out wrong. We have no choice, however, but to use our best judgment at the time, however incomplete it may be.

Conjunctions and Decision-making

2010-03-23T08:38:00.000-07:00

Written sentences end with a period–or, sometimes with a question mark or an exclamation point. Spoken sentences end with a full stop, at least they are supposed to. In many cases, however, they end with a comma–a slight pause–and continue with what is, in effect, a new sentences, just as I am doing now, with sentence joined to sentence in an almost nonstop sequence, often linked together with a conjunction and continue until they are interrupted.

Good thinking, dialectical thinking, doesn’t use periods; it always uses conjunctions. It doesn’t use periods because “no thought is ever complete by itself.” It always implies “and” or “moreover” or “furthermore. OTOH/BOTOH is always implicit.

Another issue. If no human statement is ever complete, how can we ever decide a course of action? On one hand we realize that there is more that should be considered, but on the other, life continually requires us to make decisions, to cut off debate and dialogue in order to act.

Immanuel Kant was one of the greatest critical thinkers ever. He fell in love and was to be married, but unlike most of us, in love he did not lose his head. He realized better than most that marriage entailed many considerations. As the engagement lingered on, other hands kept calling for his attention. No one has ever thought through marriage more carefully than Kant, but since there is always more to be considered, his beloved gave up and married another. Thoughtful Immanuel never married.

At some point we have to cut off thought and act on the best judgment we can make at the time–always realizing that what we do may turn out wrong. We have no choice, however, but to use our best judgment at the time, however incomplete it may be.

Chapter 2/5

2010-03-22T07:21:00.000-07:00

Not Thinking Is Dangerous

If you are not a DIALECTICal thinker, you will continually have problems that could easily be prevented, problems that are the result of misunderstandings on your part. Without the DIALECTIC, you are more likely to be blind-sided because you haven’t looked at the other side. You are more likely to have difficulty getting along with people who are important to you, because you haven’t taken seriously their unique perspective. You are more likely to regret the attendant results.

Some people believe that logic is the pathway to good thinking. Logic is very important and will make you a much better thinker, but logic alone is inadequate. Good simple logic makes our thought clear and precise, but that is not enough. As we will see in Part Two, logic is a component of the DIALECTIC. It is immeasurably useful, but has serious limitations.

Critical thinking is often pushed---in the university and in business--as the way to good thinking, but it also is inadequate. Thinking in the critical mode is, in the strict sense, an analytic process. Analysis, by definition and nature leads to disintegration; by itself it cannot integrate. Again, the DIALECTIC is a corrective to critical thinking.

Logic and critical thinking are both important. They are essential considerations if one is to become an exceptionally good thinker. But on the other hand . . .

Nor will it be enough that you have a lot of good common sense because, for one thing, “common sense” is a vague idea. It might even include the DIALECTIC, but everything depends on what you mean by “common” sense, and on who shares this sense in common with you.

The only way to become a good thinker is to think DIALECTICally, to make the DIALECTIC as natural as breathing. Isn’t it presumptuous to say it is the only way? The DIALECTICal answer to this affirms both the statement and the challenge. It is the only way, but by its very nature, the dialectic challenges the idea that the dialectic is the only way. It has told us that “there is always something more,” and that “we always might be wrong,” as well as “no human statement is complete by itself.” The dialectic tells us that there is more to good thinking than the dialectic includes. However, if there is more, that more is merely the other hand of the dialectic.

Tests Challenge Us

2010-03-19T06:25:00.000-07:00

All human development occurs in the dialectical movement between an expanding vision of reality and the challenges that accompany this enlarged frame of reference. They accompany each other as surely as tests accompany classroom studies. A few instances: when a child conquers the challenges of speech, walking, the first grade, adolescence, entering the workplace, marriage. Each challenge conquered expands the borders of our vision; the broader field of vision presents new challenges.

Sooner or later the time comes when we decide that we have reached a satisfactory state of development. We close our borders and back off from significant further challenge. We have attained successful maturity or we are painfully conscious that we are unlikely ever to succeed. We live with a feeling either of adequacy or inadequacy. For the majority, this occurs by the time we are forty-five. By that age, most have already either begun to climb the ladder of success or given up hope and settled into what Thoreau called, “lives of quiet desperation.” For the former, their field of vision is working, and since it “ain’t broke,” they see no need to fix it, expand or extend it. The latter already have faced and lost too many challenges. They want no more tests of their ability. Persistent failure is painful.

All tests challenge us; all challenges test us. Personal maturity comes as we move toward a worldview without borders and as we accept the most threatening challenges to human well-being. This also serves as a measure of the health of a society. The American people need the leadership that will expand the borders of our national vision and accept the challenges that most threaten the well-being of that larger, world-wide vision. Whether we are alert to it or not, in this election year we are being challenged to accept the larger vision and its more subtle challenges.

Chapter 2/4

2010-03-12T05:52:00.000-08:00

OTOH/BOTOH

In one sense all there is to becoming a better thinker is that we pause and think, on the other hand. But on the other hand, there is much more to it than this. Nonetheless, in the end, after we have considered the DIALECTIC more completely, on the other hand will mean a great deal more to you, and will still, in some sense, be the bottom line.

None of this requires that you become an intellectual or a philosopher. DIALECTICal thinking is for the everyday, moment-by-moment life decisions, dilemmas, and working relationships of life. It requires nothing more than the standard God-given equipment that comes with being human. Therefore, we all are included.

If we think effectively, we think, with two hands. We consider something “on the one hand,” and then realize or are told or somehow learn that “on the other hand” there is more to it than we had first realized. This is the basic pattern of good thinking. The acronym, otoh, botoh, has been suggested to help us remember the pattern, “On the One Hand, but on the Other Hand.”

Ever since Plato philosophers have called this way of thinking The DIALECTIC, the subject of this book. No other approach to understanding can match it in value. No idea can be of more practical value for all of us, almost any hour of the day, in almost any situation, no matter what we are involved in doing. The DIALECTIC is a necessary part of our approach to life if we would be wise in our judgments and conduct. By itself it is not sufficient to make us wise, but it is an indispensable element in our mental toolkit.

Again, you don’t have to become a scholar or a genius. You do not have to be “a brain,” at least no more brain than God gives to every normal or at least semi-normal human. All you need is the desire to improve your thinking, to develop a more useful understanding of other people and thus improve your relationship with them, and to make fewer mistakes in judgment. What this book presents is a method of thinking that many people use naturally; it is one part of our common sense. Don’t let the term, The DIALECTIC, throw you. Some people use the term in very sophisticated ways, but we will be using it in the broadest sense, a sense that comprehends the simplest and the most sophisticated and technical usages.

You may be just plain mentally lazy as I was, or think of yourself as mentally ordinary, but with the DIALECTIC, you can improve your life by becoming--rather quickly and easily--a better thinker than most of the people you deal with daily. It is almost effortless, and it is guaranteed. You may consider yourself a doer, not a thinker, but remember that thinking is doing, and that thought is required in deciding what to do, how best to do it, and how to evaluate the work when it is done. You can improve your performance simply by using the DIALECTICal method as accompaniment to everything you do.

Chapter 2/3

2010-03-09T09:04:00.000-08:00

Thinking Invites Trouble

Be aware, however, that the DIALECTIC will bring new troubles into your life as you begin to recognize problems that DIALECTICal thinking has made you aware of but that you had rather not deal with. Moreover, you will find that you have to be careful in school, with your spouse, on the job, or wherever you are because others will not always appreciate the changes that clear thinking often calls for. So, on one hand, we want to do our own thinking and act on the basis of that thinking, but we need to be careful how we negotiate our relations with other people.

Therefore, before you read another sentence, be warned: thinking is dangerous; this is a dangerous book. When, in 1937, Lyndon Johnson first went to the United States House of Representatives, his fellow Texan, Sam Rayburn, House Majority Leader, counseled him: “Lyndon, the way to get along is to go along.” The truth is that any time we begin thinking, we are apt to make enemies, and in this, our one chance at life between the cradle and the casket, we need to make as few enemies as possible. One of the most dependable ways to avoid making enemies is to go along with whatever the majority thinks.

But, at the heart of good thinking is the realization that things we have been taught are not true. At least some of them, some of the time. Maybe even most of what we've been lead to believe. Once we accept the idea that authorities, even experts and professionals, could be wrong, we begin trying to figure why such things are allowed and accepted. If we come to think that we have figured out something that is nearer the truth, we may then decide to challenge some socially accepted truths, the conventional wisdom.

That is another danger that accompanies thinking: if we think on anything long enough, sooner or later we are likely to tell others what we have been thinking, or, in some other way, to put our thoughts into action. Any time we put our thinking on public display we have taken a step that is a quick and easy way to lose friends and alienate society. Societies cannot operate without consensus. Those who do not go along are commonly ignored or ostracized. They find they have become social misfits.

On the other hand, what are we to do if our mind or conscience will not let us “go along?” What are we to do if our mind will not walk away and find other things to think about? What if we insist on what we see as the truth? What if our mind will give us no rest until we do our own thinking?
What happens is, we decide that although thinking is dangerous, not thinking just might be more dangerous. Maybe socially accepted wisdom is a lie, even one that is widely acknowledged, but a lie that seems to be working well.

However, we find that this is one sleeping dog that we cannot allow to lie. Maybe error or ignorance seem to work better than the discovery and revelation of truth, but we suspect truth has never been given a fair trial. No matter what the cost, some of us are going to think. But if we are going to cross the accepted with any degree of confidence, it is important that our thinking be clear, comprehensive and cogent.

2010-03-03T10:09:00.000-08:00

Chapter 2/2

Mental Habits

It is not easy to stop living by an unthinking, undeliberated, unconsidered acceptance of whatever is our community’s conventional wisdom, or by decisions we have made merely because, at the moment, they felt right. On the other hand, for others--antisocial mavericks--it is hard to break loose from their rebellious, reactive pattern of always thinking whatever is contrary to the established order. Thinking is not hard, but the will and determination to think, and to persist in it, this is hard, until it becomes a habitual, characteristic trait. Then, it is easy.

What I am saying is that it is easy to coast along, living by habit and the socially acceptable, without ever actively engaging the mind, just leaving it in neutral most of the time. The simple argument of this book is that once we understand the DIALECTIC, a smidgen of logic (Part Two of this book), and identify our own basic beliefs and ultimate goals (part three), thinking becomes easy. But it becomes easy only as we engage the gears of the mind and put it to work.

Thinking Invites Trouble

Be aware, however, that the DIALECTIC will bring new troubles into your life as you begin to recognize problems that DIALECTICal thinking has made you aware of but that you had rather not deal with. Moreover, you will find that you have to be careful in school, with your spouse, on the job, or wherever you are because others will not always appreciate the changes that clear thinking often calls for. So, on one hand, we want to do our own thinking and act on the basis of that thinking, but we need to be careful how we negotiate our relations with other people.

Therefore, before you read another sentence, be warned: thinking is dangerous; this is a dangerous book. When, in 1937, Lyndon Johnson first went to the United States House of Representatives, his fellow Texan, Sam Rayburn, House Majority Leader, counseled him: “Lyndon, the way to get along is to go along.” The truth is that any time we begin thinking, we are apt to make enemies, and in this, our one chance at life between the cradle and the casket, we need to make as few enemies as possible. One of the most dependable ways to avoid making enemies is to go along with whatever the majority thinks.

But, at the heart of good thinking is the realization that things we have been taught are not true. At least some of them, some of the time. Maybe even most of what we've been lead to believe. Once we accept the idea that authorities, even experts and professionals, could be wrong, we begin trying to figure why such things are allowed and accepted. If we come to think that we have figured out something that is nearer the truth, we may then decide to challenge some socially accepted truths, the conventional wisdom.

That is another danger that accompanies thinking: if we think on anything long enough, sooner or later we are likely to tell others what we have been thinking, or, in some other way, to put our thoughts into action. Any time we put our thinking on public display we have taken a step that is a quick and easy way to lose friends and alienate society. Societies cannot operate without consensus. Those who do not go along are commonly ignored or ostracized. They find they have become social misfits.

On the other hand, what are we to do if our mind or conscience will not let us “go along?” What are we to do if our mind will not walk away and find other things to think about? What if we insist on what we see as the truth? What if our mind will give us no rest until we do our own thinking?

What happens is, we decide that although thinking is dangerous, not thinking just might be more dangerous. Maybe socially accepted wisdom is a lie, even one that is widely acknowledged, but a lie that seems to be working well. However, we find that this is one sleeping dog that we cannot allow to lie. Maybe error or ignorance seem to work better than the discovery and revelation of truth, but we suspect truth has never been given a fair trial. No matter what the cost, some of us are going to think.

But if we are going to cross the accepted with any degree of confidence, it is important that our thinking be clear, comprehensive and cogent.

Chapter 2/1

2010-02-22T12:28:00.000-08:00

“Thinking Made Easy”

In the preface to Michael Levine’s Lessons at the Halfway Point, he says, “Thinking is the hardest work there is, which is probably why so few engage in it.”

Levine is wrong. Thinking is not that hard, if you know how to do it. Many things are hard work if you have no training and experience at the job, but not unusually hard when you learn the relevant skills, tricks of the trade, and have the right tools. For most of us, digging ditches would be grueling labor. The experienced ditch digger knows to sharpen the shovel before he begins work, and knows to wear boots that have sturdy construction, particularly a heavy sole and good arch support.

Supposedly, the work that more people fear than any other is that of public speaking. However, almost anyone who has earned the right to speak on his topic, and is enthusiastic about letting others hear his ideas can make a good speech. His passion will help override his stage fright, and his earned right to speak on the subject will supply the needed confidence.

Knowledge of such a simple outline as the following one can organize most speeches: Ho Hum, Point, Explanation, Example, So What? Assume your audience is about half-asleep or disinterested (Ho Hum) and begin with something that will wake them up. Then state your Point clearly, Explain what it means, how it works, etc., give a concrete Example or two, then let them know how you would like them to respond (So What?). With only a little experience along these lines, anyone can do a satisfactory job of speaking in public. And feel good about it.

No, Mr. Levine, thinking, like any other work, is not as hard as the untutored expect it to be. The hard thing about thinking is overcoming our inertia. To the lazy, any work is hard. Most of us follow the thinking of the herd. We live largely by habit, letting others do our thinking for us, and living by slogans and commonplace beliefs.

Chapter 1/5

2010-02-18T07:14:00.000-08:00

The DIALECTIC

The DIALECTIC will not make you a better person--that is a whole different issue--but it will make you a better thinker. It will keep you out of a lot of trouble. You will not be surprised easily or often. It will make it easier for you to understand and get along with other people. Others will begin to respect you and your ideas more than they have in the past. If you are a student, you will become a better learner, performing better in the classroom and making better grades, gaining broader understanding and deeper insight. If you are married, you will become a better and more appreciated spouse. If you are part of a team at work, you will become a better and more valuable team member.

If all this sounds as though the DIALECTIC is some kind of silver bullet or magic pill, you are hearing it right. No matter who you are, what you are interested in, or what you do, it will fit you. It will apply directly to what you are about. All this and, it is easy to learn and put to use.

Chapter 1/4

2010-02-09T09:16:00.000-08:00

But on the Other Hand

The words of a Randy Travis song suggest the way. Early in his career Travis sang about a fellow who has just met an exciting woman. She has captivated his complete attention has him almost spellbound. As he considers the possibility of spending the night with her, he sings, “On one hand I count the reasons I could stay with you . . . all night long . . . and on that hand I see no reason why it’s wrong.” That is one way for him to look at the situation. But the refrain reveals the rest of the picture, as he sings, “But on the other hand there’s a golden band, to remind me of someone who would not understand.” He has been tempted to forsake his marriage, and might have done so if he just looked at things from the most obvious point of view, the way he felt. He sings about a strong desire to stay, but the logic of marital love and commitment tells him that, “the reason I must go is on the other hand.”

This indicates the importance of DIALECTICal thinking for even the most careless of us. On one hand--every day, throughout the day--we see things we believe to be right and that feel right at the time, but on the other hand there is always more to be considered. On one hand we are ready to act; on the other hand it is always possible that we might be wrong and regret what we did. In life too much is at stake for our conduct to be decided by one-handed thinking.

The truth is that no single way of seeing anything ever sees the whole picture. There is always more. Mortimer Adler made the strange claim that the greatest contribution Greek civilization ever made to our culture is the idea of men and de. These strange words are two little particles in the Greek language, commonly translated into English as on one hand/on the other hand. When we think of Greek culture, sculpture, philosophy, and drama, we might wonder what Adler was thinking when he made such an audacious claim. Why would he say on the one hand/on the other hand is the greatest contribution of the Greeks? Because it is a concise expression of that which this book is about, that which we call the DIALECTIC.

Chapter 1/3

2010-02-08T10:17:00.000-08:00

Becoming a Thinker
Daddy was a workaholic and always gone, Mother was an old-fashioned housewife, a good one, busy doing all the work that entails, so I was pretty well left alone and by default became a lonely, lazy dreamer. I roamed the rivers, creeks, and hills, knowing I had been born fifty years too late to be the cowboy or mountain man that I read and dreamed of. I drifted mindlessly through the years until one day I found myself a high school graduate.

I remember three graduation gifts, one of them in particular. Neither the creamy-yellow sport jacket nor the fancy corduroy shirt of many colors ever looked right on me, but somehow I have remembered them. More to the point was Mother’s gift of a book of inspirational poetry and prose, Quests and Conquests. For years I enjoyed reading the book but was never inspired to actually do anything. The book didn’t change me, but Mother’s inscription written in the front of the book, “Be ye not mentally lazy,” haunted me.

Mother’s admonition was based on accurate observation. I don’t remember having ever thought much about anything for the first two decades of my life, but when I read her inscription I knew immediately that I needed whatever it was that she was calling for. However, I neither knew what to do about it nor how. The problem was that I had no thinking equipment, skills, or coaching, and had no prior encouragement to think (few schools or homes teach us how to think). It would be long years before I made any progress in that direction, but Mother’s words were never far from my consciousness; I felt their challenge continually.

Several years later, I found myself in a theological seminary studying to become a minister. There I heard Professor Gordon Clinard declare that the greatest weakness of Southern Baptist preaching was shallowness. Immediately I vowed that my sermons would have depth. During seminary years, I worked, without adequate tools for thinking, at exploring the depths of God’s word and of human experience. I was still depending on others, teachers and books, to do my thinking for me, and I still trusted them. Yet I knew they were missing it somewhere.

When I was given my first teaching position and found that I had to teach--and thus learn--logic, I discovered, finally, a method of systematic thinking. Logic, I came to realize, should be required of all high school graduates--not symbolic logic, but traditional, elementary logic.

Now I was a beginning philosophy teacher and confident of my ability as a thinker. But I had a lot to learn. It took a half-dozen years of teaching philosophy before all of the above began to converge in the idea of THE DIALECTIC. I completely rewrote my philosophy courses, making the DIALECTIC central, and have taught it now for more than thirty years.

Mother would be proud of her easy-going son because across the years, among faculty and students alike, I have gained a reputation for making people think. They tell me they now think about things they never thought about before, and from perspectives they would have never before considered. Let’s talk about how you can improve your thinking ability and practice.

Chapter 1/2

2010-02-07T12:26:00.000-08:00

On the Other Hand
What it takes to become a good thinker is to make, “On the Other Hand,” your habitual response to ideas, whether your own or those of others, spoken or written, in formal or in informal settings. No matter what is presented, always consider what might be “on the other hand,” because no human statement is, by itself, ever complete, something is always left out, there is always more to be said, and it is always possible that what has been presented might be wrong. Develop a deep sense and appreciation of human limitations, determine to make “on the other hand” thinking second nature, and you are on the road to becoming a good thinker. Results will appear almost immediately. You will become a voice to be reckoned with.
Is that all there is to it? No, but if “on the other hand” thinking becomes a regular practice, you will quickly become a respected thinker. I remember from my youth that the Sears, Roebuck catalog offered a choice of merchandise at varying levels of quality: good, better, and best. You already have read enough to reach the genuinely good level of thought. When you come to understand the larger dimensions of THE DIALECTIC--the proper name for “on the other hand thinking”--and when you add to that an elementary understanding of how logical thinking works, you will become a better thinker.
And if you are still here when we come to the last pages of the book, we will consider how to become the best thinker that can be made out of your unique personality and place in the world.

Chapter 1/1

2010-02-02T08:52:00.000-08:00

Chapter One
“Be Ye Not Mentally Lazy”

You may have grown up, as I did, convinced that the authority figures in my world were telling the truth, at least to a degree. I sensed a core of truth in what they so dogmatically said, but I knew in my gut that at some points they were wrong. I recognized that, while maybe they were right, there was more to it than they let on, and often that “more to it” was what mattered the most. I also knew that some people and the views they so strongly condemned were not as bad as they were made out to be. I knew that a lot of the wrongs they attacked were not always necessarily, absolutely, totally wrong. Although at the time I could not have articulated it, I was developing a core of skepticism.

But I was well socialized, so never did I consider challenging any of this. They were bigger, older, smarter, richer, and they held the power to either punish or reward. There was no future in challenging their positions.

On the other hand I knew better than to trust my own mind. In school my classmates made better grades, were better athletes, better looking, and more popular. I was not a leader; no one ever followed or looked up to me. I was painfully aware of my own inadequacies, but although I was not fully conscious of it, I was also vaguely aware of the limitations of those in authority and even of my more popular and more gifted classmates.

I was nearly fifty-years-old before I realized the full implications of those childhood perceptions. Gradually I came to see that my tacit disagreement with society somehow comprised the elements of a more honest and complete approach to truth and life. The seeds of a new way of thinking had been planted; a way I later came to call The DIALECTIC, the theme of this book.

After floundering through life for long years, I learned that it is easy to become a good thinker. (We need more of them around.) Good thinking is in short supply both because many of us are mentally lazy and because it requires more than mere critical thinking, keen intellect, and formal education.

Book Title

2010-02-01T14:44:00.000-08:00

I intend to publish a book about good thinking this summer. From the beginning I have given it the working title: The Quick and Easy Way to Become a Good Thinker. That may not be the best way to title a book, so I am listing eight that I am considering. I would appreciate it if you commented, telling me your choice (or suggesting something else),

Become a Good Thinker:
The Quick and Easy Way

The Key to Becoming a Good Thinker

The Secret of Good Thinking

Consider This:
The Key to Good Thinking

Have You Considered This?
The Key to Becoming a Good Thinker

Before You Decide:
Consider This

Out-think Most Anybody:
The Key to Becoming a Good Thinker

Could I Be Wrong?
Becoming a Good Thinker

I'm Back

2010-02-01T14:33:00.000-08:00

It’s been over a year since I have blogged. I took time off to finish writing a book that I began years ago. The first full draft is now finished. I expect to edit and rewrite for a few months, then publish late this summer. The book focuses on how to become a good or better thinker.

I intend to serialize it, a chapter per month, on my “Considerate Thinking” blog. Meanwhile, I am posting snippets of it on Twitter daily. Check Twitter–wallaceroark. http://twitter.com/#home

I hope to update at least two of my several blogs (see the bottom of My Profile) each week

Becoming a Popular Singer

2009-03-31T19:40:00.000-07:00

We’ve never heard the best singers, singers that we would enjoy, would enjoy more than we do our favorite performers. Why haven’t we heard them? Why are they not recorded? Why have they never been heard except in their hometown church or local night spots? Many reasons come to mind. For whatever reason, there may be things that they count as more important CDs, celebrity, being professional entertainers twenty-four-seven.

But if they wish they were on the charts, yet have never made it–I know a young man like that like that–the main reason is that they can’t make it on their own. No one can. Becoming a musical star is always a cooperative process. Someone has to write the songs. The songwriter is part of the winning team. The singer himself has to find ways to be heard beyond the local scene. Encouragers are essential. The musical accompaniment is crucial to the process. The quality and professionalism of the recording session and the studio can make all the difference. So can the personality of the singer, her ability to connect, communicate, and to entertain her audience. Showmanship matters.

All of this, however, can be the best. The singer and the band may develop a distinctive and compelling voice, phrasing and style. Yet we will never hear from them unless someone promotes this singer and his recorded songs. Our favorites won out over better performers because they had better producers and marketers. That’s what it takes to succeed (not as a singer, nor as a musician) in the music business. Although all the other components of the process must be in place, in the end, salesmanship wins over everything else. Or perhaps a better way to say it is: salesmanship is what brings it all to us.

The same is true in almost any kind of business.

There Has To Be a Reason

2009-03-30T17:29:00.000-07:00

In the Thurlos’ White Thunder, an apparently random attack has been made on Ella Clah’s life. Of this, the Thurlos write: "The dark side of human nature seldom made sense to her. Malicious behavior all too often existed in defiance of logic." That’s the way it often seems. Things just don’t make sense. Often there appears to be no logical explanation for things that happen or the way people are. But, l as we all know, things are not always what they seem to be; appearance can be deceptive; reality can remain hidden from our eyes and our minds.
When my wife, our daughters, and I moved to Texas thirty-five years ago, I began noticing an unusual, but apparently very popular, bumper sticker: There has to be a reason. This both interested and confused me. It interested me because I am a teacher of logic. Logic is the study of reasoning. I readily agreed that there must be a reason. No matter how enigmatic anything may seem to be, there is a reason for everything. Nothing happens without a cause. But the bumper confused me because that was all it had to say. There was no fine print. There were no images. Just the philosophical statement: There has to be a reason.
I doubted that this was a particularly philosophical town I had moved to. Why would cars by the dozen have a bumper sticker that was merely philosophical. This didn’t make sense to me. The day finally came when, in a parking lot, I saw a lady getting out of a car with the ubiquitous bumper statement. I stepped over and asked her for an explanation.
She said it was to arouse curiosity and cause people like to me to ask for the meaning. The answer was that this was an incomplete statement. It required a living person to complete it. She completed it for me: "There must be a reason why everyone banks at the First National Bank." I guess that was good enough for me; I have banked there as the institution has gone through five different names. At present, it is Bank of America. There must be reasons for these changes.
No, Ellen Clah, the dark side of human behavior, malicious behavior, is neither senseless, not does it defy logic. I’ve said there are reasons for everything. Everything can be understood logically. I found, that for me, logic is both simply and comprehensively understood as: "The study of what follows."
The attempt on her life followed someone’s intentional decision. It could be anything from revenge to part of a rite of initiation into a violent gang. If it was not preceded by some intentional decision, then it was an accident. Accidents, however, follow some kind of failure: carelessness, a break in the steering linkage of a vehicle, or a hunter mistaking her for a deer. Something lay behind it the threat to Inspector Clah’s life. Some perverse premises, or accidental premises led to the conclusion that almost caused her death. She understood none of this at the time, when Clah has done enough investigation, she will understand that someone had a logical reason to want her dead.
The main reason we fail to see the logic in things is that we have our own beliefs and ways of seeing the world, ways that cause us to prejudge what can and cannot make sense. Therefore, we find it hard to realize how much difference the experience of reality can be if people have different beliefs and ways of seeing the world than we do. If we can’t see where they are coming from, many things do seem to defy logic.
Everything is logical, but it always depends on where things are coming from, depends on what premises we are prepared to accept. For instance, the mentally ill commonly think more logically that most of us. The problem is not with their logic, but with their beliefs and the way in which they see the world. If we accepted their premises, we would see how all their behavior makes good sense. The rocket scientist has a different worldview from the safecracker; their actions will follow from that worldview.
If you were to ask me what might be the major premise from which malice and evil arise, I must confess that I left in ultimate mystery. I am prepared to consider the entire dialectic of explanations that have been given. Nonetheless, none of our words of explanation will be the last word. There is more to be said than we can understand. The major premise lies hidden in mystery.

Conjunctions not Periods

2009-03-22T17:38:00.001-07:00

When we write, we must end our sentences with a period, a question mark, or sometimes an exclamation point. Not so with dialectical thinking. Good thinkers punctuate their thinking with conjunctions, commas, colons, semi-colons, dashes, or ellipses. Some writers use up a lot of phrases before they deem it necessary to come to a "full stop," the British term for a period. Nonetheless, they terminate their sentences with an appropriate punctuation mark.
Most English speakers find the German language hard to read. Their sentences tend to be confusingly complex. In the theological writing of Karl Barth, I have found German sentences that traveled more than a full page of fine print before coming to a halt
However, it remains true that writers must use terminal punctuation for their sentences. Good thinkers, however, punctuate their thinking with conjunctions and a variety of punctuational pauses, but never come to a full stop until they encounter the need to act on their thought.
Dialectical thinkers can bring their thought to termination. Thinkers can act. They know the entire point of thinking (unless they are playing intellectual games) is to determine the best course of action at a given point in time and space. But until they must act, their thought continues as they connect one idea to still other considerations.
This is a simple picture of the punctuation of good thinking.
My wife and I are thinking about attending a dulcimer festival in a few weeks, but we question whether we can afford it, however, (please try to read this entire, but admittedly interminable, sentence) for our psychological well-being, it might forestall greater expense in the future, thus we have reserved a room at a Bed and Breakfast establishment for Saturday night–the festival begins on a Friday and concludes Sunday noon–meanwhile my wife is suggesting we fork out the money for another night’s lodging so that we may be there for the entire festival since this is all the vacation we will have this year (have you begun to get the point?), even though we admitted in the beginning that if we go at all, it will take a small bite out of our retirement investment, and that would be a dangerous precedent, especially in a time of major recession (2009) so we don’t know what would be the wise course of action because there are so many things to consider on the one hand, but on the other hand. . . .
We all know that a sentence is a series of words that begins with a capital letter, then proceeds through . . . and ends with full stop punctuation. Remember however, that although sentences must have terminal punctuation, good thoughts end only when they must. Until then they end with conjunctions that link to further considerations. Conjunctions constitute the core of the grammar of the dialectic.

Lie that Reveals Truth

2009-03-13T19:59:00.000-07:00

When, back 1958, I entered the Christian ministry, my pastor father advised me to read all kinds of books. He said, "Don’t limit your reading to theology and biblical commentaries; read everything." "But," he said, "don’t waste your time on fiction." Fiction, as everyone knows, is by definition, not true. It was years later, studying philosophy under John Newport, that I learned Daddy was wrong. Novels, fictional short stories, drama, painting, and other art forms do present truth to those of us who have eyes and ears, minds and hearts, to re-cognize them.
As Picasso said, "Art is a lie that reveals the truth." A particular painting, story, or ballad may not represent actual events, persons, or empirical facts of any sort. Yet, in the presence of true art, we find that the art-ifice, awakens us to wider, deeper realities we had never before noticed. Art captures our attention, holds it, and demonstrates to us something of the world with which we are involved.
As we watch The Color Purple, listen to Tevya in Fiddler on the Roof, or read John Grisham, some of us find ourselves wiping tears from the corners of our eyes. On one hand, we are fully aware that none of this is real. Yet, perhaps unconsciously, we are moved by the existence of a human sadness of which we had been only vaguely aware, or never even suspected.
It is fiction, thus artificial, thus not true, but in it we have encountered layers of reality we had never before faced.
Consider the possibility that anywhere, anytime, we may find ourselves face to face with experiences, on the face of which, we find nothing out of the ordinary, but that, if we are sensitive and alert, may awaken us to a more intimate appreciation of the mystery of this thing we call life.

Not too Late

2008-02-15T14:48:00.001-08:00

Tanya Tucker was singing about a most common experience: friends had warned us against dating that person. He is nothing but trouble, we are told. She will break your heart; don’t do it. He is bad news, temper like a yellow jacket and strikes like the snake that he is. But, for reasons we can’t explain even to ourselves, we have already lost our heart to them. That’s why she sings: “Well, it’s a little too late to do the right thing now.”

Hooked on pot before we knew it, took that first drink, lost our virginity, turned in a research paper that we bought off the internet, or even in blind rage killed our husband’s lover. Yes, it’s a little too late to do the right thing now. What’s done can’t be undone. But not really; there is more to it than that.

Considerate thinking--another term for the otohbotoh dialectic–says that we always are in an on-the-other-hand situation. It may be a little too late to do what was the right thing to do at the time, but this time is not that time. The clock has moved on, maybe even the calendar. We did the wrong thing, but that’s in the past. “Now” means that we are in the present.

In the aftermath of any mistake, we have choices available in the now. Something is the right thing to do now. Find it and do it. Like Andrei Gromyko, I have gotten a lot of mileage out of the old Russian proverb: “No matter how long you’ve been traveling the wrong road, turn around.” We face a new set of choices. In the present, in the now, we can turn around and move toward that which is the right way for the now.

This is what Christian repentance is about. We have seen the destruction our habitual philosophy of life led to. We have understood the world one way, have believed that way was the truth, we’ve followed some particular mental map of reality and found it to be a dead-end. Repentance means that we can choose to be reoriented, begin to walk the way that leads to life, believe that Jesus has Reality mapped out right.

No, it is not too late to do the right thing now.

The Quick and Easy Way to Become a Good Thinker

2007-10-10T07:40:00.000-07:00

It is not enough to be a critical thinker, or a creative thinker, or a logical thinker, or a scientific thinker; to be a good thinker, in all senses of the term, is to be a considerate thinker. Consideration is the key to greatly improved thinking.

By thinking dialectically you can Improve your thinking immediately. The dialectic, as old as Socrates, can be used easily and effectively in the 21st Century. Like the unfolding of a flower bud, simple and beautiful itself, it opens into new depths of beauty and fragrance.

The dialectic will lead you to:
• Consider other perspectives.
• Consider logical implications.
• Consider who you are.
• Consider who you want to become.
• Consider what is possible, what can actually be done.

You will quickly become:
• A person whose ideas must be reckoned with.
• A person who is rarely blind-sided.
• More honest.
• More respectful and more respected.
• More aware and appreciative.
• More courteous.
__________________

If this is your first visit, some of the early posts on this blog will explain how I use the term, “The Dialectic.”

How I Go about Thinking

2007-10-08T08:27:00.000-07:00

Recently I heard from one of those three or four individuals who read my blogs on a regular basis, and he told me that, as a result, he believed he was beginning to learn how to think. That, coupled with a provocative discussion another fellow–a friend--and I had, is what lies behind today’s blog.

Our intense conversation was stimulating and challenging. My friend and I appeared to have major disagreements about where we were coming from and where we were we believed it took us. We had time to stir things up a bit, but not enough to clarify much, and although as friends we retain a harmonious relationship, we left our discussion without resolving our differences. We will meet again; of that I am confident.

This kind of emotionally charged attempt to reason together is an encounter not uncommon for me. It always drives me, always, to reconsider my own thinking. As I drove home that day, reconsidering my thoughts, I began trying to do a complete review of how my thinking characteristically proceeds. What follows is a provisional statement of the essential elements of my thought processes.

Four reference points are always consulted; yes, and a fifth is also involved. These are linked interdependently.

• The Christian’s Holy Scriptures
• Logic
• Words: their usage, definition, and etymology
• The actual life context of whatever is at issue
• And to be honest, I must include my experience of life as I have seen, felt, and understood it.

Three assumptions are always present in the pattern of my thinking:

• No human statement is ever complete. It matters not whether it a sentence, a speech, an essay, a book, or a political platform that makes the statement, it can never be complete.
• There is always more to be said. Sometimes that more changes everything.
• [Thus] It is always possible that I am wrong.

The scriptures that Christians consider holy, when taken as a whole, are fuzzy. This is why they always have been and will remain, subject to interpretation. Many interpretations exist. Therefore, we can see that Christians have never reasoned from Scripture alone, although many have claimed to do just that.

Logic is equally fuzzy. None of its premises are incontrovertibly true. The reasoning process often is invalid. Inductive logic, by its very nature, cannot produce conclusions that will always prove worthy of our trust.

Trying to settle matters by logic, it is essential that we must understand and accept the premises from which we are reasoning. We must also accept the validity of the reasoning process. Otherwise, we are unlikely to agree on conclusions.

Anytime we disagree with the conclusion of someone’s reasoning, there are only two ways they can be challenged: the truth of their premises and the validity of their reasoning process. This is true at least for deductive reasoning. Since inductive reasoning always goes somewhere beyond the evidence offered in the premises, we may reasonably disagree on the conclusions. The only way to clarify the matter is to reduce it to some deductive pattern. Then it can be subjected to rigorous testing.

The meaning of words lies more in how they are used than in what dictionaries, lexica, or etymologies have to say. Nonetheless, unless we clearly stipulate how we are using language, we cannot stray far from established meaning without jeopardizing our ability to communicate.
_________

Personally:

• Within the Holy Scriptures, my heart, mind, emotions, and soul turn to the following passages as interpretative signposts and as illuminators of the rest of these writings:
--I John 4:16
--Matthew 7:24-27
--John 14:6
--Colossians 1:15-20
--John 1:1-18
--Ephesians 1:10
--2 Corinthians 5:17-21
╶ Revelation 5

• When I turn to logic, my major methods of testing by deduction are:
--The categorical syllogism
--The conditional syllogism
--The dilemma
╶ The reductio ad absurdum
Inductively, I turn to the ways of testing:
--Analogies
--The hypothetico-deductive method
--Simple induction

• I approach the biblical writings using a logic appropriate to stories rather than to strict propositional logic. As story, the Bible speaks with multilayered, multifaceted, and somewhat open-ended meaning.
• Therefore I concur with Jan Zwicky’s judgment that none of it--whether understood as story or parts of the story, or understood in propositional language–can be reduced to unidimensional meaning without misre-presentation of its intention.
• I also concur with Ludwig Wittgenstein when he says, “That which is ragged should be left ragged.” In spite of the ultimate clarity that is visible when we look at the big picture of the biblical theme and when we have acknowledged its unity and harmony, the Bible remains a rather ragged collection of writings.

________________

A couple of ideas that came up in the conversation that stimulated this little essay might clarify some small piece of what I’ve been saying.

1. The word, introvert, was used a few times. It was not clear to me how it was being used; its usage did not fit with my own. The real heart of our concerns was sabotaged by this vagueness. “Contrary to what most people think, an introvert is not simply a person who is shy. In fact, being shy has little to do with being an introvert! Shyness has an element of apprehension, nervousness and anxiety, and while an introvert may also be shy, introversion itself is not shyness. Basically, an introvert is a person who is energized by being alone and whose energy is drained by being around other people.”

In context, “introvert” was used to designate a group that was perceived to represent a representative majority of the population of the United States, if not actually most of the entire human population. The majority were identified as introverts. Among authorities, the well-established fact is that introverts constitute only about 25% of the population.

This ratio seems validated in my own life experience as, for at least sixty-five years, I’ve observed human social interaction. Day in and day out, wherever you go, the great majority of our world, as well as almost any select group, is made up of extroverted people. And, as an introvert myself, I suspect that God intended us to be so, so that we can live in societies rather than in reclusion, seclusion, and isolation.

On the other hand:
Most people believe that an extrovert is a person who is friendly and outgoing. While that may be true, that is not the true meaning of extroversion. Basically, an extrovert is a person who is energized by being around other people. This is the opposite of an introvert who is energized by being alone.
[About.com is a helpful starting point for understanding these two types of human personality.]

2. It was said that Jesus called us–whoever that might be--to be “fishers of men.”

When Jesus actually called a few fishermen to become his special trainees, he did say he would make them “fishers of men.” When, however, he called a collector of governmental revenues, he neither told him that he was to become a “fisher of men,” nor that he was to be a “revenuer for God.” When he called a fellow who was part of a quasi-military group, he said nothing to him about either “fishing” or fighting.

What we can appropriately extrapolate from ancient texts, sacred or otherwise, is another discussion altogether.
_________________

This has been an essay into something of how, in practice, I put my concept of considerate/dialectical thinking to use. It is written to whomever it concerns, and for whatever it is worth.
___________

Now, in private, I will, along these lines, go about analyzing the aforementioned challenging discussion.

Preventing Bad Luck

2007-10-07T16:53:00.000-07:00

On the old TV show, Hee Haw, every week, with downcast face and voice, they sang:

Gloom, despair and agony on me!
Deep dark depression, excessive misery!
If it weren't for bad luck I'd have no luck at all!

Dialectical–considerate–thinking shuts out most of our bad luck. Nothing can stop all of it, but it can usually be avoided if we live with our eyes and ears and mind “on the other hand,” which is where bad luck ordinarily comes from. When we can avoid being caught by surprise, we can be prepared for whatever might be headed our way. We can be like Nathan Bedford Forrest who said of Stonewall Jackson, “he got there firstest with the mostest.”

If we make it our habit to consider life from several perspectives, we can seize the initiative and “get there the firstest with the mostest.” Sometimes we can catch that potential “bad luck” before it gets to us, and be prepared to ambush it before the bad luck knows what is happening.

Likewise, thinking like an octopus, considering the many hands, using all the time available to us before decision-making time, will open the door and put out the welcome mat for good luck to walk into our house for a visit. A perennial truism says that the more we pre-pare, the more we stay alert, the more are aware, the more we pay attention, the luckier we get.

Yeah, yeah, we know all of that. We’ve heard it all our lives. We know it’s true, yet we continue to believe that some people are just born lucky and others unlucky. We might ought to wipe the dust and cobwebs off of those wise old words, so that, like the Boy Scouts, we can “be prepared.” If so, we just might get to be among the lucky ones.

Good luck!

Sing, Draw, Dance, Think

2007-09-19T18:39:00.000-07:00

Anyone can become a good thinker, I am convinced.

I have read, and I believe, that if you can talk, you can sing. For some of us, it takes a lot of help and training to become a halfway decent singer, but any of us can do it, after some fashion.

An art teacher once told us that if you can write, you can draw. Writing requires that we develop the ability to draw each character of the alphabet well enough to distinguish it from the other letters. We have to draw these letters with enough clarity that they can be read. If we can write, we have already developed some degree of drawing ability.

As a matter of fact, all children draw, even more naturally than they write. They begin drawing before they know anything about reading and writing. It is only after they are art classes where art teachers tell them what they’ve done wrong, that they decide they can’t draw. Anyone who can write can draw, and with training and encouragement, can learn to draw fairly well.

A teacher of choreography told me that anyone who can walk can dance. We can maintain our balance, move our feet in proper sequence, and adjust our pace to walk with some else. Most of us can even learn to march in step with music. As dancers, we probably will never become a public performer nor become known as an artist, but we can move our feet rhythmically and/or move our feet to music.

These are things I have heard said, and that I believe.
_______________

I say: If you ever think at all, you can become a good thinker. Maybe not like Einstein, but effectively. The following repeats what I wrote in a much earlier blog.

If you learn to think considerately–dialectically–then you will become more:

• considerate
• moderate
• appreciative
• aware,
• diplomatic
• honest
• respectful

You will:

• understand others better (including your opposition)
• ask more questions
• read more
• eliminate arrogance
• be less apt to go off half-coked
• make fewer mistakes
• need to make fewer apologies

You will have more:

• patience
• humility
• wonder
• openness
• integrity
• sympathy
• tolerance
• people who respect you
• have more patience

You will be less apt to be blind-sided because you have thought and looked more than one way.

If you are new to this blog, the early posts on this site will help you understand more fully what has been said in this one.

If you are not new, you are aware that I’ve neglected–to my disappointment–this blog. I hope to remedy that, because I have much more I want to say on the subject of dialectical/considerate thinking.

Thinking about Health

2007-08-29T08:26:00.000-07:00

Consider getting a second opinion. In 1957 I suffered an aggravating health problem so I went to one of the most highly respected physicians in Fort Worth. After the doctor examined me, he said I needed to come in for surgery as soon as I could take two weeks off all activity. I was in the middle of graduate studies and saw no way to miss that much school for two weeks, so I continued to endure the aggravation.

But it got worse, so I decided to take advantage of the school doctor. He was free. He was a seasoned teacher at Baylor Medical School in Dallas, who gave one day a week to the school. I went to see him. I told him what the other doctor had said. The old medical school physician examined me, and told me I did not need surgery at all. He suggested a few ways to alleviate the aggravation.

Considerate thinking. Considerate medical thinking. Since I could not easily follow the first doctor’s recommendation, I gave the matter some thought and considered getting another opinion. But then I had to consider two conflicting medical recommendations. How was I to know which was right? Both were highly regarded in their field.

One of the essential elements in considerate thinking is to use all the time you have available before a decision must be made. At least, if possible, sleep on it. Let the unconscious mind do some of your thinking. Of course there are times when decisions must be made and action taken immediately. In those cases instant consideration is given to the consequences of delay. This spurs us to a prompt decision.

I decided to take some time considering both options. Inertia set in. The recommendations of the second doctor helped, so I continued to delay decision. Of course the decision to postpone decision is a decision not to act right then. The end of the story is that, almost by default, I decided against the surgery that I had been told was needed as soon as possible.

That was fifty years ago. I’ve not had the surgery and have gotten by, most of the time, quite well.

If you have any question about a doctor’s diagnosis or recommendations, consider getting a second opinion.

Recently, a relative was having some memory problems and thought perhaps Alzheimer’s was the problem. A specialist was consulted and within five minutes, Alzheimer’s was confirmed. Further testing that morning substantiated the five minute judgment.

Thinking about this devastating diagnosis that promises such a black and bleak future, a second opinion was considered. The family physician doubted the disturbing diagnosis, and recommended a nationally acclaimed doctor who has developed the first definitive, objective test for Alzheimer’s.

After seven hours of careful testing, the national expert reversed the diagnosis. With a more than 95% certainty, the doctor assured that the problem was not serious and certainly was not Alzheimer’s. Unimaginable relief.

Think about it; always consider a second opinion.
_____________________

Many other medical matters call for considerate thinking.

• Is my condition serious enough to go to the doctor, or do I decide just to live with it or try any of a variety of home remedies and means of relief?

• Do I trust the doctor completely, or do I ask questions, perhaps hard questions?

• Do I eat a healthy diet, exercise, get proper sleep, and take other measures to maintain good health, or do I merely do as I please, trusting in the medical community to fix whatever might go wrong?

• When medicine is prescribed, do I take the brand name or consider the generic? Do I, without further thought, merely trust the doctor and take the prescribed medication, or do I consult information about possible side effects?

• If I am diagnosed with cancer, do I take radiation and chemo, both of which potentially have miserable side effects, or do I take my chances without such treatment? There are many things to consider.

• Do I want to draw up an advance directive, a living will? What do I want done if death looks imminent? Do I want heroic measures to be taken when I am no longer able to live without artificial support–measures such as resuscitation, the use of a feeding tube, or oxygen equipment that breathes for me?

These and many other health-related issues need to be thought through dialectically: On the one hand; but on the other hand; yes, but on the other hand; yes, but. . . . Sometimes we have to think like an octopus because there are several hands to consider.

Our health, well-being, and life itself depend in large measure on the quality and extent of our thinking.

I hope it is well with you today. But think also about tomorrow.

Randy Travis

2007-07-19T17:38:00.000-07:00

Back in 1986, Randy Travis sang about a fellow who has just met an exciting woman. She has his complete attention, has him almost spellbound. He considers the possibility of spending the night with her. Then he sings, “On one hand I count the reasons I could stay with you . . . all night long . . . and on that hand I see no reason why it’s wrong.” That is one way for him to look at the situation.

But the refrain reveals the rest of the picture, as he sings, “But on the other hand there’s a golden band to remind me of someone who would not understand.” He has been tempted to forsake his marriage, and might have done so if he just looked at things from the most obvious point of view, the way he felt. He sings about a strong desire to stay, but the logic of marital love and commitment realizes that, “the reason I must go is on the other hand.”

Therein lies one of life’s crucial lessons. On one hand--every day, throughout the day--we see what we believe to be right and what feels right at the time. On the other hand there is always more to be considered, another side. On one hand we are ready to act; on the other hand it is possible that we might be wrong.

The truth is that no single way of seeing anything is ever the complete picture. There is always more. Mortimer Adler made the strange claim that the greatest contribution Greek civilization ever made to our culture is the idea of men/de, two little particles in the Greek language.

These little particles, men and de, are commonly translated into English as on one hand/on the other hand. When we think of Greek culture, sculpture, philosophy, and drama, we certainly might wonder what the man was thinking to make such an audacious claim. On the other hand. . . .

On the Other Hand: Sports

2007-07-10T09:21:00.000-07:00

I’m not a sports fan. I don’t know what went wrong. Maybe I wasn’t raised right. I am an American citizen, but whether genetics or whatever, I almost completely ignore the world of sports. I have, on rare occasions, attended or listened to a sporting event. I mention two to illustrate something of the nature of the dialectic.

Do you have the dialectic down yet? Concisely, it always responds with: “On the other hand.”

When I was a young man attending Oklahoma A&M College, our greatest rival was the University of Oklahoma, led by coach Bud Wilkinson. Wilkinson won football games - more in one stretch than any major-college coach in history. His Oklahoma teams set the NCAA record by winning 47 consecutive games. When I was in college, OU was at the top of its game.

During my college career I attended only one football game. It was unforgettable. We were playing OU in the traditional homecoming game. At the time, A&M was somewhere near the bottom in college football ranking. The first play of the game was what made the game memorable.

Opening kickoff. A&M received. Bill Bredde picked the ball up on our two-yard line and ran through the entire OU team for a ninety-eight-yard touchdown. A&M against OU, first play: the stands exploded. I’ve never seen or heard anything like it. No one did that against Bud Wilkinson’s team.

We were elated, but on the other hand, our rival was still the best team in the United States. They beat us something like 49-7. Our game ended after the first play.

We might have felt a sense of hope. We might have thought we had a chance. But we had another thought coming, and we should have known it. No one human action ever tells the whole story.
____________________

The other memorable sporting event was a heavyweight world-championship boxing match between Ingmar Johansson and Floyd Patterson in June 1960. I was driving to work that night, listening to the fight on car radio.

In 1959, Johansson had defeated Patterson and taken the heavyweight championship title from him. They were fighting a rematch in 1960. I was a Patterson fan, and as I drove, I suffered, because for most of fifteen rounds, Johansson pummeled Patterson mercilessly. Patterson clearly was being slowly defeated, continually he was knocked to the canvas. Sports announcers talked about the fight being stopped and Patterson defeated by a technical knockout.

Late in the last round, the fifteenth, Floyd was down. It was unbelievable that after such a beating he could force himself back on his feet. The referee’s count came to “nine,” and to everyone’s surprise, Patterson, with great difficulty, dragged himself into an upright position, then, with a quick knockout, ended the fight. His Swedish contender took the entire ten-count. Patterson became the first world-champion, heavyweight boxer to regain his crown.

As the fight proceeded, Patterson, without question, was the loser. But, on the other hand. . . .

For the considerate thinker, there is always another hand to be considered.

[Patterson and Johansson met again. Patterson defeated the Swede in the sixth round.]

Home Life

2007-07-09T20:46:00.001-07:00

Mother was different. She was a patient listener, usually. I could talk with Mother about anything, and at length, and did for over half a century. In her presence I could express myself and dream dreams that had no possibility of being realized in the real world, knowing that I was not likely to be squelched. So I felt much closer to Mother than to Daddy.

On the other hand, Mother mostly just listened. She never said much, told me little of what she thought about my words, and gave little advice and few instructions. Except on one or two subjects--birdwatching was one--she rarely revealed much of her own thought, feeling, or dreams (I often wonder what they were). She just listened to my monologues, knowing that, listening, all by itself, offers the human soul some of the best therapy possible.

So I was raised in a home that knew little dialogue, a family with three brothers who, for the most part, each went his own way, only occasionally acknowledging the existence of the others. And I doubt that we were an unusual American family. And there are other nations whose societies echo this same experience.

I don’t know how well all of this describes the homes in which Mother and Daddy themselves grew up, but I have heard enough from cousins and other family members to believe their homes were much like mine, and that the pattern could be traced back, on both sides, for at least a generation or two before that. And I fear that my own daughters might see this as a description of their own father and their own experience.

(I must say that it was quite different with their mother. She and our daughters have dialogued; they have connected, not always in the best way, but they got involved in trying to know and be known. Something of this seems to have been true of my wife’s family. Not all families are like the one I was raised in, but many are, and they tend to reproduce.)

Somehow we don’t take time for each other; we don’t listen to those nearest to us. We are family, that is, we are familiar with each other, but don’t know each other. And thus we don’t know ourselves. Without the opportunity to learn what others feel and think, we don’t understand clearly our own inner life. Without sharing with someone else our thoughts and feeling about each other, our own self-perception remains out of focus. We can know ourselves in only dialogue with others.

Without dialogue I cannot become a whole person. If in the home we don’t all share our inner lives, we remain family, but are familiar with each other only in a limited sense. Without the exchange of ideas, plans, hopes, and fears, we never live in community on this earth. Our pain, our emptiness, and our horrors are in large measure, rooted in our lack of dialogue.

It is a historical commonplace that the declaration of war is immediately preceded by the announcement that “talks have broken off.” They usually have broken down because the negotiation between diplomats is, too often, an exchange of reciprocal monologues, each trying to convince the other side, never seeking to hear and understand the other’s heritage, position, predicament, or philosophy.

However, we are stuck with each other; our radical individualism and egoism cannot eliminate all the others--people, nature, and God--that are linked with our life. Sartre claimed that “hell is other people,” but he also tells us there is NO EXIT from this world of others. We are inescapably social, made for relationship, and directly linked with the natural order. We fail to take others into account at risk of denying our humanity and destroying hope for a human and global future.

Because everything is ultimately connected and interrelated in one great ecosystem, we must acknowledge otherness, listen and respond to it, and work toward a more satisfying harmony of all its parts, including that part which is our self. Apart from dialogue, we are doomed.

On the other hand, we have available a method of thinking and living that can clear the way to a much more promising, satisfying and humane future. That method is the dialectic, and the dialectic is the heart of this ongoing discussion of “considerate thinking.”

Thinking as Dialogue

2007-07-06T09:11:00.000-07:00

Deep into his sermon, he would lean over the pulpit and ask, "Dear hearts tonight, are you listening?" That was a long time ago but I can still hear him addressing his congregation with that old-timey phrase of endearment.

Daddy used the rhetoric of a now bygone era, but everyone in the church knew that they were dear to him, and, we knew he wanted us to pay attention because his sermons were punctuated, repeatedly, with, "Are you listening?" After all, what is the point of preaching if nobody is listening?

And what about us? What are we trying to accomplish in our conversations with each other if no one is listening? If we are going to live with each other, we will have to listen, hear, and acknowledge each other. If I don't listen, or at least look, I may not realize it when you are hurting, and that you are about to go under, unless someone comes to the rescue. If I don't listen, I may not realize how much you care, or even that you care, about me or about whatever might be the issue at hand at any given time.

If we don't listen to each other, we each merely speak our own respective and reciprocal monologues, and--unless presented by professional entertainers--most monologues quickly become boring. We need dialogue. We need to hear each other.

Daddy's, "Dear hearts tonight," (he didn't often use this term with the Sunday morning crowd) "are you listening," was not a strictly rhetorical question; he actually wanted to see it in their eyes, their posture, and even in the expression of their faces. He wanted to know that they were engaged with him.

Yet the sermons were almost exclusively monologues. He would not have appreciated it if someone had spoken up with an answer; his question was more a device to maintain or recover attention.

On the other hand, I might be wrong, as I have been so often about Daddy. It is too late now for me to ask, but although he didn't expect spoken response he might have actually welcomed it; he might have welcomed the opportunity to engage in true dialogue about the Christian gospel.

The more I think about it, the more I suspect that he very well might have welcomed it. But neither he nor the congregation of six or eight hundred people expected it because that is not part of the accepted pattern of public worship. I wonder what might happen if immediate spoken feedback became a part of the sermon?

On the other hand, if the preacher is to expect his congregation to listen, he had better have been listening to them during the week. If he doesn't know their problems, hopes, fears, dreams, doubts, excitements, moral dilemmas, existential crises, laughter and tears, his sermon may miss the people completely. They may continue to come, thinking it is somehow important that they be in church on Sunday morning, but it will not be long before they stop listening with any sense of expectation and hope. Preaching will be boring--an accurate description of altogether too many Sunday mornings.

Again, what about all the rest of us and all the talking we do? If you don't listen to me, why should I listen to you.

I think Daddy listened to his church members--actually to everyone in the community--better than he did to his three sons. Many could say the same thing about their father. Fathers often engage in a great deal more genuine dialogue on the job than they do at home.

One reason is that, like my father, there are many dads who spend precious little of their time at home, and when they do get home, they are already talked out and tired. Maybe that is the reason. I don’t know. I do know that Daddy rarely seemed to hear me, and that there was so much I wanted to say.

Before I really got started trying to make some sort of connection, Daddy would stop me with clear dogmatic instructions guaranteed to get my life moving on the right track--before he even knew what I was attempting to say. He was good at discouraging dialogue.

For the first thirty years of my life I felt that he never really heard much of anything I was trying to say. Occasionally across the next thirty-three years, we had times when we heard each other and responded to what we heard. Sometimes we argued late into the night, long after others had gone to bed, closing their doors to shut out some of our fierce and loud efforts to understand and to reconcile.

And there were times--rare times--of confession. Daddy actually listened as I confessed fears, weaknesses, disappointment, and anger. To my amazement, on two or three occasions, Daddy confessed the same to me. On those occasions I was thrilled that he treated me as a real person, as a confidant, as someone he loved and trusted.

Daddy died in 1997. The night before the funeral--at which I was to be the speaker--I stood beside his open casket looking into that face I had known for sixty-three years and cried in lonely anger for the years of opportunity lost to both of us.

So few were the hours we ever listened to each other. Precious as those times were, they never began to fill the void that I felt in my relationship to a man who, for nearly forty years, was one of the most loved and respected humans ever known in Blackwell, Oklahoma and Gainesville, Texas.

He truly was a great man. and in my confusion and anger, I could speak appreciatively of him to the hundreds who came to the funeral. But I miss him, and not just now; I always did.

Was he afraid? Was he afraid of what he might hear if he listened? Was he afraid that if he revealed much of himself I would lose some degree of respect? There were a few times late at night, after I was an adult, when he hinted at a self-image that he dared not acknowledge. He told me, once, that he wore the stern face and used the no-nonsense voice to ward off any attempt to penetrate his defenses.

Isn’t that the all-too-common human story, at least in the United States? We are afraid to let conversation move much deeper than a recitation of socially accepted speech patterns.

There is a certain reciprocity, but not much, in our exchanges about how we feel, what we think of the weather, the economy, our favorite TV show, or our ball favorite team. I suspect that sports and gossip bring us the closest to anything that resembles true dialogue. Beyond that we guard ourselves, and continue to inhabit a silent loneliness.

Living the Tension

2007-07-02T09:17:00.000-07:00

When my wife turned sixty, our daughters gave her a week-long, all-expense-paid trip to New England to shop for antiques. They gave her shopping cash. They also said they would pay for one other person to accompany her, so I got to go along. (I have no memory of what they gave me for my sixtieth.)

Vermont was the most impressive part of that, my first, trip through New England. My desk at home, indeed my entire office, and my pickup truck all are wildernesses
of clutter . I think I liked Vermont because it was uncluttered. I’ve never seen anything so clean, neat, and well-trimmed. Uncluttered, but not sterile like I have always perceived German communities to be.

I like the uncluttered. I like the Kansas Flint Hills, the Oklahoma Osage country, the deserts of the Southwest; I like “the wide-open spaces.” In art, I am attracted to paintings, especially watercolors, with large uncluttered areas, simple use of space.

I have no sense that I am claustrophobic, but I may be a spaceophile.

Yet I like wild, tangled regions. They offer a multifaceted richness, variety, and mystery. They call for exploration and adventure. They are filled with hidden surprises.

The uncluttered can be sterile, merely empty, a vacuum, boring. Don’t unclutter everything. Brambles and thickets are needed as much as open spaces

If creativity is located where the incongruent is comfortably embraced–as studies indicate that it is–don’t be too anxious to simplify everything. Live the tension between the mess and the well-kept.

But we must traverse the tension. Sometimes truth and life and progress and development require that we move so close to one pole that we appear to be polarized. Either pole, alone, is destructive to some degree.

Whichever we feel the need to move toward, the simple or the complex, “islands of simplicity” and times of solitude are essential. The complications of bramble, thicket, and confusing mystery will show up on their own.

Living these tensions is one way that the dialectic works itself out in the business of working out our lives. Don’t allow yourself to become overwhelmed but don’t get too comfortable.

Thinking Came Late

2007-06-26T17:44:00.000-07:00

I grew up, as you may have, convinced that the authority figures in my world were telling the truth, at least a certain degree of truth. Although I sensed a core of truth in what they so dogmatically proclaimed, I knew in my gut that they were wrong at points. But I recognized that, while maybe they were basically right, there was more to it than they let on.

That “more to it” was the part that often mattered most. I also knew that some of the people and views that they continually condemned were not as bad as they were made out to be. Moreover, a lot of the wrongs they attacked were not always necessarily, absolutely, totally wrong. Although I could not have articulated it at the time, a fundamental scepticism was developing.

But I was well socialized, so not for a moment did I ever consider challenging any of this. They were bigger, older, smarter, richer, and they held the power to either punish or reward. There was no future in challenging their positions.

On the other hand, I certainly knew better than to trust my own mind. In school my classmates made better grades, were better athletes, better looking, and more popular. I was not a leader; no one ever followed or looked up to me. I was painfully aware of my own inadequacies. Still, although I was not fully conscious of it, I was also vaguely aware of the limitations of those in authority, as well as those of my more popular and more gifted classmates.

I was nearly fifty-years-old before I realized the full implications of those childhood perceptions. Gradually I came to see that my tacit disagreement with society somehow comprised the elements of a more honest and complete approach to truth and life, the seeds of the dialectic–our subject for a few days--had been planted.

But after long years of floundering through life, I have learned that it is easy to become a good thinker--a human resource sorely needed but always in short supply. Good thinking is in short supply because many people are mentally lazy. Another reason for this short supply of good thinking is that it requires more than more, and yet less than critical thinking, keen intellect, and formal education.

What it does take to become a good thinker is to make, “On the Other Hand,” your habitual response to ideas, whether your own or those of others, spoken or written, in formal or in informal settings. No matter what is presented, always consider what might be “on the other hand.” Other hands can always be found, because no human statement is, by itself, ever complete, something is always left out, there is always more to be said, and it is always possible that what has been presented might be wrong.

Develop a deep sense and appreciation of human limitations, determine to make “on the other hand” thinking second nature, and you are on the road to becoming a good thinker. Results will appear almost immediately. You will become a voice to be reckoned with.

Is that all there is to it? No, but if “on the other hand” thinking becomes a regular practice you will quickly become a good thinker. On the other hand, I remember from my youth a popular mail-order catalog that routinely offered a choice of merchandise at varying levels of quality: good, better, and best.

You already have read enough to reach the genuinely good level of thought. When you come to understand the larger dimensions of the dialectic--the proper name for “on the other hand thinking”--and when you add to that an elementary understanding of how logical thinking works, you will become a better thinker.
And if you are still here when we come to the last post of this blog, we will consider how to become the best thinker that can be made out of your unique personality and place in the world.
________________________

Daddy was a workaholic and always gone, Mother was an old-fashioned housewife, a good one, busy doing all the work that entails. Therefore, I was pretty well left alone and by default became a lonely, lazy dreamer. I roamed the rivers, creeks, and hills, knowing I had been born fifty years too late to be the cowboy or mountain man that I read and dreamed of. I drifted mindlessly through the years until one day I found myself a highschool graduate.

I remember three graduation gifts, one of them in particular. Neither the nice creamy-yellow sport jacket nor the fancy, corduroy shirt of many colors ever looked right on me, but somehow I have remembered them. More to the point was Mother’s gift of a book of inspirational poetry and prose, Quests and Conquests. I enjoyed reading the book for years but was never inspired to actually do anything. The book didn’t change me, but Mother’s inscription written in the front of the book, “Be ye not mentally lazy,” haunted me.

I have no doubt that Mother’s admonition was based on an accurately observed need. I don’t remember having ever thought much about anything for most of the first two decades of my life, but every time I read her inscription I knew immediately that I needed whatever it was that she was calling for. However, I didn’t know what to do about it or how.

The problem was that I had no thinking equipment, skills, or coaching, and had no prior encouragement to think. It would be long years before I made any progress in that direction, but Mother’s words were never far from my consciousness; continually I felt their challenge.

About seven years later, in response to an unexpected encounter with God, I found myself in a theological seminary studying to become a prepared Christian minister. Sometime in the first month of my studies, Gordon Clinard, in his class on the preparation of sermons, declared that the greatest weakness of Southern Baptist preaching was shallowness. Immediately I vowed to be innocent of that fault.

Therefore, during seminary years, I worked, without adequate tools for thinking, at exploring the depths of God’s word and of human experience. I was still depending on others, teachers and books, to do my thinking for me. I still trusted them. Yet, I knew they were missing it somewhere.

Then I encountered Carlyle Marney, that unique, thinking Southern Baptist preacher and writer, and for the first time realized that I did not have to think like all the other Baptists I knew, heard, and read. For long years I had been convinced that if the Baptist emperor was not indeed naked, he certainly was poorly clad in ill-fitting clothing. Marney pointed to a way of thinking that sounded like it actually would fit the gospel message that was at the heart of what Baptists are about. I learned that it was possible to think differently, and express the Christian faith more adequately. I found a sense of freedom that I had never dreamed possible. Now I copied Marney--with a little uneasiness.

In the process of completing three advanced degrees in theology and philosophy I met the existentialist philosophers, the linguistic analysts, and the process philosophers. Thrilled throughout, I entered a new world of living thought. For the first time in my life I began to do a fairly good job of thinking for myself.

When I was given my first teaching position and found that I had to teach--and thus learn--logic, I discovered, finally, a method of systematic thinking. Logic, I came to realize, should be required of all highschool graduates, not symbolic logic, but traditional, elementary logic.

More yet to come.

Describing the Dialectic 2

2007-06-24T18:26:00.000-07:00

We need to be aware that the dialectic goes beyond the simple schema: thesis, antithesis, synthesis. It comprises many complexities. Any given thesis might have many antitheses, giving rise to triads within triads, each complicating the whole.. The tension may be weak or strong, and may exist for a brief time or last for centuries before a synthesis is worked out.

The Soviet Union unexpectedly broke apart after almost eighty years of internal and external dialectical tensions illustrating the fact that the dialectic is at work, even when nothing seems to be happening for a long time. As long as the tension is there, process is active.

Another variable in the Hegelian pattern is that the stair step development of repeated thesis, antithesis, and synthesis is not necessarily an upward progression. It could work in a retrogressive manner or in a lateral fashion.
In the broad sense, conversation is an aspect of the dialectic, although some would distinguish the two.

The Socratic dialogues, although conversational in appearance, are more focused than an ordinary conversation. Whereas normal conversations make many shifts of subject matter and operate on varying levels of intensity, the Socratic dialogue sticks to the subject, pursues an objective, and excludes discussion of trivia. In this sense, the dialectic and conversation can be distinguished.

Nonetheless there is value in recognizing the dialectical character of free conversation. In a conversation, varying points of view emerge, and are sometimes challenged by someone of another persuasion. Even the common free associational shifts of topics make the important contribution of bringing up topics and perspectives that have never before been considered by some of the participants. The dialectic is involved wherever differing positions are recognized and dealt with.

The dialectic takes on a more specialized form: Bipolarity. Bipolarity, like dialectic, is a widely used term, with several distinct usages. I use dialectic in a broader, and more inclusive sense than many others, but I use bipolarity in narrower, more particular sense.

The most simple approach to understanding bipolarity is to picture the horseshoe shaped magnet. We know that each pole of the magnet is charged, one is positive, the other negative. Neither of the poles is the more important, neither the more necessary. If both poles were to be made positive, the magnetism would be lost. So if both were negative. The opposite poles set up a magnetic tension between. The magnetism depends on the tension rooted in this opposition of the poles.

Many of the most basic features of our world exist in bipolar tension with each other. Take, for instance, the ideas of the sovereignty of God and human freedom. These seem to be complete opposites, incompatible with each other.

In its strongest statement, if God is the sovereign ruler of the universe, then everything that happens is as he directly ordains. Everything is done precisely as God desires, with no options for variation. The human is left with no freedom of choice. On the other hand, if human beings are genuinely free, they may contradict God’s desires and may do so on a regular basis, in which case, God is not sovereign in the strongest sense.

Similar bipolarities characterize most of the basic realities of life and our understandings of it.

Quite commonly, these contradictions are accepted as paradoxical. The reference to paradox is intended to make contradictories acceptable while leaving them inexplicable. We need to note that the idea of contradiction, in the strict logical sense, means that one element--pole--must be true and the other must be be false. When two things contradict, they cannot both be true. In a paradox we have that which seems to be contradictory, but in which both elements seem to be true.

An understanding of bipolarity enables us to make sense and present a reasoned resolution of these difficulties. In contrast to many understandings of bipolarity, the concept I present here affirms, not that, while they are contradictory, both poles seem to be true. Rather, I affirm that in a bipolarity, neither pole is true--not by itself. Just as a magnet’s positive or negative pole is magnetically useless if it exists by itself, so in bipolarity either pole is untrue, if taken alone. Both poles are true, but only in tension with the other pole.

Notice, for instance, that the Bible doesn’t merely state that God is sovereign. It also emphasizes human freedom. It doesn’t simply emphasize human choice and responsibility, it also claims God’s control. We want to affirm that both are true, independently of the other--objectively true. But we live in a world where everything exists relation to other things. Nothing exists independently of anything else, thus truth always exists in some relational context. Bipolar kinds of truth are true only in relation to each other. I reiterate, neither is true by itself.

Our common response to bipolarities is to either accept the copout idea that they are a paradox, or else we polarize. We agree they are contradictory, that the truth of one implies the falsity of the other and vice versa, so we feel compelled to defend one and attack the other.

This is the root of many of our problems: we cannot accept the tensions inherent in bipolarity. If we affirm the truth of one and reject the other, the tension is eliminated. But we fail to consider the necessity of tension in the real world.

Everything exists and is held together in tensions of all sorts. If all tension--muscular, cellular, and other--were eliminated from our bodies, they would collapse into a protoplasmic heap. Reality includes tension as a necessary component. Only inappropriate tension causes problems.

The following relationships seem bipolar in character: freedom and determinism; objectivity and subjectivity; personal and social; fact and value; singular and universal; feeling and thinking; theoretical and practical; being and becoming; ideal and actual; material and spiritual. These are some of the most general bipolarities of life.

Describing the Dialectic: 1

2007-06-23T16:16:00.000-07:00

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.

Some Benefits of Dialectical Thinking

2007-06-23T16:13:00.001-07:00

If you think dialectically:

• You will become more considerate, moderate, appreciative, aware, diplomatic, honest, respectful.
•
• You will be less apt to be blind-sided, because you will already have looked at that side.

• You will not need to make as many apologies.

• You will make fewer mistakes.

• You will be less apt to go off half-cocked.

• You will eradicate personal arrogance.

• You will understand others–including your opposition--better.

• You will ask more questions.

• You will read more.

• You will come to have more patience, humility, wonder, openness, sympathy, integrity, appreciation, community, tolerance, honesty.

• Others will come to respect you more.

The Dialectical Foundation

2007-06-21T15:08:00.000-07:00

No human statement is complete by itself.
A statement may be a single sentence. A well-written paragraph makes a single statement. Often a long speech can be seen as making one statement, just as can an entire book. Not even in the Bible is any one statement complete by itself. It is only a "portion of God's word," and thus incomplete--which means:
There is always more to be said.

As in, say, the rest of that Bible. Nonetheless we need to remember that since no human statement is complete in itself, there is always something else to be said, something else that needs to be heard, read, learned, sought out, and considered.
We are now into the second century since the death of Abraham Lincoln, but even with the innumerable books written on his life, his administration, and his character, more continues to be said that helps to fill out the picture: witness the tremendous popularity, just two or three years ago, of LINCOLN'S VIRTUES.

It is always possible that you/I/we could be wrong.
Since there is always more to be said because no human statement is complete by itself, then it is always possible that we just might be wrong. None of us, Lincoln included, is infallible. Often we are unaware that we are wrong. We are convinced that we are right, only to learn later that we were wrong. Those who are convinced they are never wrong are the ones to be most mistrusted.

Because of the three principles above, we should always be considerate of others. We could be wrong, so we do well to listen to others: a family member, experts in the field, a person who holds opposing views. We just might learn that they are right and we are wrong. We might see that we are right, as far as we go, but other viewpoints may shed light of different facets of the issue, facets we were unaware of, and, who knows, theirs might be a brighter light.

So be at least a little bit slow in attacking the view of anyone else. Be considerate. Be considerate of them, and reconsider your own position. I believe it was Emerson who said something like, "Everyone knows something that we are ignorant of." Let’s learn from each other.

There is a lot to consider. A whole lot.

Three Rules of Chess

2007-06-19T08:49:00.000-07:00

Thirty-some years ago, when I began to teach at Howard Payne University, one of my students offered to teach me to play chess. For several months, on most Friday afternoons, we played chess. I’ve played little since Bill and I quit playing, but I do remember the three rules he told me I should play by: 1) Protect the Queen; 2) Control the center; 3) Remain flexible.

My wife, daughter, and I were playing a game of Five Crowns this afternoon when a book on a nearby shelf caught my wandering attention. It was the book by Covey, et al, First Things First. When I glanced at the Table of Contents, one chapter stood out immediately, “The Main Thing Is to Keep the Main Thing the Main Thing.”

“Seek ye first the Kingdom of God, and all these things shall be added unto you,” is Jesus’ reminder of the need to keep the main thing the main thing. Stating the same thing differently, he also said that the main thing is to love God with all we’ve got, and to love our neighbor as we love ourselves.

One of the major sources of our problems is our failing to know or acknowledge the main thing, and even more the tendency to forget the main thing as we follow tangential, but promising looking trails and never look back. Much like the common experience of doing internet searches. We begin by looking for one thing, but one helpful site has interesting links that we follow to other interesting links. An hour later we have learned much. We have learned things useful and trivial, things we had always wanted to know, and things we had never before heard of. But the main reason for our search was long forgotten, and thus never found and acted on.

My chess-playing student told me to focus on the three main things necessary to win: protect the queen, control the center, and remain flexible. I am married. We had our first date in the summer of 1950, and have been married for fifty-two-years. We are moving into life’s homestretch. I believe that to seek first the Kingdom of God and to love with a godly love, my first responsibility, since I am married, is to protect the “queen” of our home. That is the main thing that I try never to forget is the main thing. Under God everything else is secondary, is as dispensable as pawns. Protecting the queen is at the heart of marriage.

In my blogging, the main thing is to keep the main thing the main thing, and in this internet relationship, the main thing is to focus on the center: The eternal love of the triune God. Serious Christian theology and ordinary cultural Christianity make a host of other things–some of them good things–central to their practice and proclamation of a Christian religion. Above all else, in my blogging I need to claim the center, renew the center, and control it against all challengers.

In a world where everything is relative, changing, connected to everything else, and where surprising novelty is a constant, without flexibility the queen can neither be protected, nor can the center be gained, much less controlled. Not the kind of flexibility that has no central core, not like nailing Jello to the wall, not like being so open-minded that our brains fall out on both sides. Rather the flexibility of bamboo, one of the strongest yet most flexible things to be found in the natural world. Rather the flexibility of the eagle or vulture, constantly adjusting to the ever-changing air with its highs and lows, its stiff winds, and its dead air. Rather the flexibility of the sailor who must constantly adjust his sails and tack with the wind in order to stay on course, in order to keep the main thing the main thing.

On an earlier occasion I have indicated that in this last phase of my life –“The last of life for which the first was made”–I have only three commitments: love my wife, write, and take care of the quotidian. Protect the queen, write to claim and control the center, and be flexible enough to maintain an ever-changing balance as life, wife, and writing make their appropriate demands.

We live in a culture that tries to sucker us off into a jillion tangential tasks and trails. Make sure you know what the main thing is, then make sure that you keep the main thing the main thing.

Considerate Thinking Concisely Stated

2007-06-19T08:48:00.000-07:00

Become a Good Thinker
A Concise Presentation

If you want to become a good thinker, do three things: 1) consider other perspectives, 2) consider foreseeable results, and 3) remember who you are and what you are about. Make these three steps a habitual part of your character and you are on your way. Let them become your most valued intellectual virtues. When these three traits characterize your normal response to life you will be a good thinker.

Any one of these steps will help but all three are necessary if you are to think at your best. Nothing will improve your thinking ability so quickly as the practice of considering other perspectives, what others think or might think. Try to identify any elements of your idea that you might have overlooked or failed to regard. Realize the possibility that another viewpoint might reveal some error in your thought. Considering other perspectives is important no matter what you are thinking about, but it is not enough to produce your best thought.

The second step in good thinking, consideration of foreseeable results, leads to the study of how logic operates. Historically, logic has been defined as the study of argument, the study of reasoning, the study of proof, the study of inference, and perhaps others that don’t come to mind immediately. Review those definitions, looking for links between them.

Before I continue, let me acquaint you with Occam’s (Ockham’s) Razor, or as it is sometimes called, The Principle of Parsimony. So far as we know it originated with William of Occam. He said something like this: “That which can be explained with fewer principles is not well served by explaining it in more.” Shave off everything superfluous, remove repetitions. In the words of Einstein, “Make things as simple as possible, but no simpler.” One of my habits of thought is to shave most everything with Ockham’s Razor. I try to get to the core of things as quickly as possible.

Now, to continue. After teaching logic and using the above definitions for years, I came to a more comprehensive definition: Logic is the study of “what follows.” Logic helps us to know what can follow, what can’t, what might follow, what probably won’t, and sometimes reveals that, based on our present, limited knowledge, we can have no idea at all of what might follow.

The second step of good thinking is logical analysis. This enables us to have a better idea of the foreseeable results of our ideas. This, in turn, helps us prepare ahead of time, thus coping with life more effectively.

The first step makes us good critical and creative thinkers. The second makes us good critical thinkers (and it is popular in recent decades to identify “critical thinking” with good thinking, but that is not so). We need to be critical and constructive thinkers, analytical and synthetic, conservative and creative, using both the right and left brain.

These first two steps will train us in thinking skills, just as a good knowledge of arithmetic gives us good mathematical skills. But arithmetic has no idea or interest in what we are counting; we may be bank auditor, or the banker who is embezzling. Arithmetic works just as well with one as the other. So it is with skill as a critical or creative thinker. We may be a terrorist creatively constructing a bomb or a musician bringing joy to generations.

Ideally, the third step in becoming a good thinker is to be a good person. Whatever our values, character, beliefs, commitments, good thinking must always be consistent with those personal traits, whether they are individual traits, or traits of the group. We cannot be good thinkers until we know who we are and why, not until we can clearly and concisely state our starting position. If we don’t realize where we’re coming from, there is no telling what will follow.

Realize that no human statement is ever complete; remember there is always more to be said; reckon that it is always possible you could be wrong

Notice of Recovery

2007-06-19T08:33:00.000-07:00

This blog was begun in December 2006, but evaporated into the electronic ether sometime in April 2007. I have searched, but it seems, mysteriously, to have simply disappeared in the dark of the night, sometime after January 31, 2007. Some seventeen posts were lost from the internet, but had been saved to my hard drive, so I will re-post them and then pick up where I left off.

This blog presents a quick and easy way to become a good thinker. It is an invitation to dialogical living. It will explore the value and nuances of considerate thinking and living.

Considerate Thinking

Appendix, Page 1

Chapter 11, Page 1

Chapter 10, Page 1

Chapter 9, Page 1

Chapter 8, Page 1

Chapter 7, Page 1

Chapter 6, Page 1

Chapter 5, Page 1

Chapter 4, Page 1

Chapter 3, Page 1

Chapter 2, Page 1

Chapter One,...like an Octopus

BLOG ARCHIVE

Blog Termination?

Chapter 7/11

Chapter 7/10

Chapter 7/9

Chapter 7/8

Chapter 7/7

Chapter 7/6

chapter 7/5

Think like an Octopus

Chapter 7/4

Retired HPU Professor Visits Campus for Book Signing

Chapter 7/3

Chapter 7/2

chapter 7/1

Chapter 6/5

The Book Is Available

Chapter 6/4

Chapter 6/3

Chapter 6/2

Chapter 6/1

Chapter 5/8 Correction

Chapter 5/8

Book Almost Complete

Chapter 5/7

Chapter 5/6

Chapter 5/5

Chapter 5/4

Chapter 5/3

Chapter 5/2

Chapter 5/1

Chapter 4/11

Chapter 4/10

Chapter 4/9

Chapter 4/8

Chapter 4/7

Chapter 4/6

Chapter 4/5

Chapter 4/4

Chapter 4/3

Chapter 4/2

Chapter 4/1

A Responsibility to Think

Chapter 3/3

Chapter 3/2

Chapter 3/1

Chapter 1/6 (new addition)

Conjunctions and Decision-making

Chapter 2/5

Tests Challenge Us

Chapter 2/4

Chapter 2/3

Chapter 2/1

Chapter 1/5

Chapter 1/4

Chapter 1/3

Chapter 1/2

Chapter 1/1

Book Title

I'm Back

Becoming a Popular Singer

There Has To Be a Reason

Conjunctions not Periods

Lie that Reveals Truth

Not too Late

The Quick and Easy Way to Become a Good Thinker

How I Go about Thinking