That would be "dialogue." Here are some thoughts from an excellent essay, "Dialogue Is Never Enough," written by Fr. James V. Schall, S.J., in October 2005 for Ignatius Insight:
The term "dialogue" is, of course, of classical origin. Literally, it means a conversation, particularly an organized written conversation between two or more people. The dialogue is about a given subject usually of some gravity or consequence, though playful dialogues are certainly part of the literature. The word comes from Greek and means "to gather," "to speak," "to reason." Logos, of course, is the philosophic word that refers to Christ in the Prologue of the Gospel of John. It signifies that a meaning is to be found in things. Each being has its measure or rule according to what it is, by which we know it to be this thing and not that thing. Logos always refers to intellect or reason, not to will. Dialogue will be the disciplined, engaged exchange of ideas. Its purpose is to become more articulately reasonable. The end of dialogue is truth now spelled out in the light of all feasible objections to it, themselves manifested in the exchange. The knowledge of what is true includes the knowledge of what is not true.
Dialogue, moreover–though it can, and perhaps should, be delightful and charming–is not a mere device by which we hear ourselves talk. It is not simply a babbling on. Its eloquence and style serve dialectic and syllogism. The phrase "locked in conversation" is closer to its meaning. Dialogue is for the purpose of arriving at a conclusion, a truth through honorable conversation or exchange of ideas. Dialogue should take place in an atmosphere beyond the threat or coercion, as Plato’s Gorgias reminds us. The rules of logic are themselves guidelines to arriving at the truth that is the purpose of conversation and controversy. But moral virtue, the honesty and courage to seek the truth, must be an intrinsic part of dialogue if it is to achieve its end.
Dialogue, moreover–though it can, and perhaps should, be delightful and charming–is not a mere device by which we hear ourselves talk. It is not simply a babbling on. Its eloquence and style serve dialectic and syllogism. The phrase "locked in conversation" is closer to its meaning. Dialogue is for the purpose of arriving at a conclusion, a truth through honorable conversation or exchange of ideas. Dialogue should take place in an atmosphere beyond the threat or coercion, as Plato’s Gorgias reminds us. The rules of logic are themselves guidelines to arriving at the truth that is the purpose of conversation and controversy. But moral virtue, the honesty and courage to seek the truth, must be an intrinsic part of dialogue if it is to achieve its end.
<snip>
The danger in the "dialogue" format as it has developed in recent times is, no doubt, the relativist temptation. The conversation is merely for the sake of conversation. Nothing will ever really be resolved. No conclusions will ever be arrived at as that would stop the dialogue. It is a kind of public relations show to demonstrate good will or perhaps public etiquette. But to hope for anything more is really naive. Too there is the "world parliament of religion" school of thought that wants to incorporate all religions, including particularly Catholicism, into a kind of political super-church. This world organization, under the protection of the UN, will harness or pacify the disruptive forces said to be found in religion of any species. Religion, as the ancient Epicureans taught, is useful to keep the masses busy, but it is at best a myth.
The Catholic position, for its part, has generally been that it is open to any truth wherever and however formulated, provided that it can be put in proper context. No doubt this approach will seem "condescending" to many but the very nature of the Church is itself a claim to truth. Any mitigation of its essence would, no doubt, be an admission that it did not believe in itself. In this sense, Catholicism is not a "religion," but a revelation. Religion is what men seek to offer to the gods, while revelation is bound by what is handed down. Its essence is loyalty to what is revealed. Its impact is to explain itself to mankind in terms both of itself and what man has understood by itself. Catholicism does not stand for what man holds about God but about what God holds about man.
But something more is at stake here. Any reader of Tolkien, for instance, will suspect that something ominous can be found in the way that dialogue, by itself, does not produce intended results by articulated agreement. Both Aristotle and Scripture in various ways suggest to us that truth itself is not simply a calm acceptance of rationally supported argument. It is that, indeed, but there seems to be a curious, long-term rejection of the light. Our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against principalities and powers. At more than one point in the study of modern philosophy and politics it seems that we run up against not so much difficulties of understanding but of a determined "non serviam," of a deliberate rejection of truth even when it is known, perhaps because it is known.
Christ said that He would send His disciples among men as "sheep among wolves." This suggests that they would not find their activities only in debating forums, academic chairs, or gentle dialogues. Indeed, they were told that they would be persecuted. They would be told how to answer magistrates, almost as if it was not their words that were being rejected. This realization brings up the limits of dialogue. Argument can be rejected not merely because it is illogical or inconsistent, but also because it is true. Of course, it will be rejected in the name of some other truth, or apparent truth. But the fact is that much modern thought, in its intellectual inconsistencies, is ultimately not rooted in reason but in will.
In the end, it is not surprising that truth is rejected because it is illogical but because it is a truth that does not allow what we want to be true. Modern philosophy is often a system to prevent us from knowing the truth. It systematically defends itself and its first principles not because it rejects the arguments of truth or revelation, but because it sees that philosophy in fact does lead in the direction of revelation. In many ways, philosophy is an enormous system designed to protect us from facing the truth, if that truth itself leads to the coherence and consistence of revelation and its relation to philosophy as such.
In the beginning, I cited a passage from Acts and another from Chesterton. In Acts, Paul is threatened with death precisely because he presents arguments for the truth of his position. And Chesterton remarks that the purpose of argument or dialogue is not ultimately to disagree but to agree. The purpose of disagreement is in the end to agree. That is to say, dialogue is intended to achieve something beyond itself. It is well that we do not agree before we understand why we should agree. On the other hand, it is also true that we refuse to argue or agree to philosophic positions because we are afraid of where the argument leads, if it leads to a coherence in the universe between reason and revelation.
The world is not divided merely by intellect and its understandings of things. It is more fundamentally divided by will, by the thesis that, as Benedict XVI said, "we want unlimited possession of the world and of ourselves." To accomplish this latter ambition, we have to lie to ourselves about ourselves and about the coherence of the world. To protect our self-generated view of ourselves, we have to develop a theory that justifies what we do according to our own wills. This is why, however useful, dialogue runs up against our wills that enable us to choose another view of the world but the one that is.
The danger in the "dialogue" format as it has developed in recent times is, no doubt, the relativist temptation. The conversation is merely for the sake of conversation. Nothing will ever really be resolved. No conclusions will ever be arrived at as that would stop the dialogue. It is a kind of public relations show to demonstrate good will or perhaps public etiquette. But to hope for anything more is really naive. Too there is the "world parliament of religion" school of thought that wants to incorporate all religions, including particularly Catholicism, into a kind of political super-church. This world organization, under the protection of the UN, will harness or pacify the disruptive forces said to be found in religion of any species. Religion, as the ancient Epicureans taught, is useful to keep the masses busy, but it is at best a myth.
The Catholic position, for its part, has generally been that it is open to any truth wherever and however formulated, provided that it can be put in proper context. No doubt this approach will seem "condescending" to many but the very nature of the Church is itself a claim to truth. Any mitigation of its essence would, no doubt, be an admission that it did not believe in itself. In this sense, Catholicism is not a "religion," but a revelation. Religion is what men seek to offer to the gods, while revelation is bound by what is handed down. Its essence is loyalty to what is revealed. Its impact is to explain itself to mankind in terms both of itself and what man has understood by itself. Catholicism does not stand for what man holds about God but about what God holds about man.
But something more is at stake here. Any reader of Tolkien, for instance, will suspect that something ominous can be found in the way that dialogue, by itself, does not produce intended results by articulated agreement. Both Aristotle and Scripture in various ways suggest to us that truth itself is not simply a calm acceptance of rationally supported argument. It is that, indeed, but there seems to be a curious, long-term rejection of the light. Our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against principalities and powers. At more than one point in the study of modern philosophy and politics it seems that we run up against not so much difficulties of understanding but of a determined "non serviam," of a deliberate rejection of truth even when it is known, perhaps because it is known.
Christ said that He would send His disciples among men as "sheep among wolves." This suggests that they would not find their activities only in debating forums, academic chairs, or gentle dialogues. Indeed, they were told that they would be persecuted. They would be told how to answer magistrates, almost as if it was not their words that were being rejected. This realization brings up the limits of dialogue. Argument can be rejected not merely because it is illogical or inconsistent, but also because it is true. Of course, it will be rejected in the name of some other truth, or apparent truth. But the fact is that much modern thought, in its intellectual inconsistencies, is ultimately not rooted in reason but in will.
In the end, it is not surprising that truth is rejected because it is illogical but because it is a truth that does not allow what we want to be true. Modern philosophy is often a system to prevent us from knowing the truth. It systematically defends itself and its first principles not because it rejects the arguments of truth or revelation, but because it sees that philosophy in fact does lead in the direction of revelation. In many ways, philosophy is an enormous system designed to protect us from facing the truth, if that truth itself leads to the coherence and consistence of revelation and its relation to philosophy as such.
In the beginning, I cited a passage from Acts and another from Chesterton. In Acts, Paul is threatened with death precisely because he presents arguments for the truth of his position. And Chesterton remarks that the purpose of argument or dialogue is not ultimately to disagree but to agree. The purpose of disagreement is in the end to agree. That is to say, dialogue is intended to achieve something beyond itself. It is well that we do not agree before we understand why we should agree. On the other hand, it is also true that we refuse to argue or agree to philosophic positions because we are afraid of where the argument leads, if it leads to a coherence in the universe between reason and revelation.
The world is not divided merely by intellect and its understandings of things. It is more fundamentally divided by will, by the thesis that, as Benedict XVI said, "we want unlimited possession of the world and of ourselves." To accomplish this latter ambition, we have to lie to ourselves about ourselves and about the coherence of the world. To protect our self-generated view of ourselves, we have to develop a theory that justifies what we do according to our own wills. This is why, however useful, dialogue runs up against our wills that enable us to choose another view of the world but the one that is.
Phenomenal Carl.
Thank God for your work.
Posted by: Pete | Wednesday, May 20, 2009 at 07:34 AM