In the previous commentary, I pointed out that D'Souza's opening remarks are rooted entirely in political rhetoric—which addresses motivations rather than understanding.
Remember, though, that there is nothing inherently wrong with political rhetoric. Its legitimacy depends entirely on how it is used.
Dennett made use of political rhetoric in his opening remarks as well, some of it legitimate (pointing out that religion was not, on the whole, increasing in numbers), and some of it not (his little joke about churches becoming museums).
D'Souza's use of political rhetoric is, for the most part, unfortunately, of the second type.
You will remember that what made Dennett's joke a misuse of political rhetoric was the fact that it was rooted in a baseless argument. Most of what D'Souza says, in Part 4 is, in fact, baseless.
He accuses Dennett of not citing sources, where, in fact, Dennett has cited consistently, and it is D'Souza whose single citation is weak and unclear.
He claims to correct Dennett's factual statements (and implies that they are false), but then only introduces "counter facts" which are questionable (in the sense that they are impressions, rather than data) and do not really contradict what Dennett actually said.
He accuses Dennett of "dripping elitist contempt" where there as been no evidence of any such thing, and proceeds to misquote Dennett, out of context, as saying that not a single point of religious doctrine has any factual basis. This shift of context and misquoting appears to be designed to give him a way to respond, but even then his response is baseless.
All of these arguments are misuses of political rhetoric.
The reason for this would seem to be a fundamental weakness in political rhetoric itself.
If I am trying to talk someone down from a ledge, or lure a child out of a burning building I may be perfectly justified in using baseless arguments. I can tell the child that mommy is waiting around the corner, whether she is or not. I can tell the suicide they have a phone call whether they do or not.
These situations tend to have several things in common:
- They're emergencies. There isn't time for understanding to do its work. The suicide may really need therapy, but that isn't going to help fast enough, and something has to be done now.
- The question at hand is entirely a question of action. It doesn't really matter why the child unlocks the door, as long as she does.
- There is no real debate. No one believes the child should remain in the building. No one believes the suicide should jump.
- I am clear what I am doing. I don't convince myself that mommy is around the corner, or that the phone call is real. The deceit, in these cases is clean, in the sense that I know I am lying, know exactly why I am lying, and have no intent to deceive the person involved for the long term.
On the other hand, when political rhetoric is used in an open debate, on subjects of importance to society as a whole, it needs to have greater restrictions—it needs, in fact, to be limited by the same considerations as scientific rhetoric.
It's perfectly appropriate to address people's motives, but not in a way that involves a misrepresentation of the facts, or unsound arguments.
The difference between these two cases has to do with who gets to make the decision at hand—the debater or the audience. If you are talking a suicide down from a ledge, or a child out of a burning building, the circumstances give you reason to believe that you have that right, rather than the child or the suicide.
But in matters of public concern, the speaker does not have the right to try to take the question out of the audience's hands by misleading them—even inadvertently.
The difficulty is that people who come to an issue from a political stance tend to believe that they do have this right, or even this responsibility.
They believe that they are dealing with matters of (sometimes eternal, sometimes societal) life and death. They believe that they are dealing with an emergency—that it is important to win people over now, and let understanding come later. They believe, in short, that getting people to act is more important than getting them to understand.
This can lead them to neglect the limits of clarity, accuracy, and understanding—the limits of scientific rhetoric.
Ironically, they tend to make this mistake when they allow the first consideration in the list above to act as political rhetoric on themselves. The sense of life or death, and the sense of emergency, can override the other criteria.
They can fail to notice that there is a real debate, and that the arguments they are making are not temporary.
And, as in the case we're talking about, they can confuse a question of understanding with a question of action.
In the first part of his opening remarks, D'Souza does this consistently—but not completely. He does make one point which deserves serious consideration.
That will be the topic of Commentary #6.
