This
blog may strike many readers as an opinionated one but let me assure
you that I am more of a hesitant mugwump – with my bum on
both sides of the fence. I
am loathe to choose sides – not least because I can see so many.
Indeed it’s
why
the blog carries the name it does. It’s
a celebration of
the benefits from looking at the world from different angles. An
article
by Agnes Callard n the current issue of the Boston Review
impressed me
both for the clarity of
the language and the message it contained about the importance
of questioning loose thinking.
This
blog may strike many readers as an opinionated one but let me assure
you that I am more of a hesitant mugwump – with my bum on both
sides of the fence. 
I
am loathe to choose sides – not least because I can see so many.
Indeed it’s why
the blog carries the name it does. It’s a celebration of the
benefits from looking at the world from different angles. An article
by Agnes Callard n the current issue of the Boston Review
impressed me both for the clarity of the language and the message it
contained about the importance of questioning loose thinking.
 
Socrates did not write philosophy; he simply went around talking to people. But these 
conversations were so transformative that Plato devoted his life to writing dialogues 
that represent Socrates in conversation. These dialogues are not transcripts of actual 
conversations, but they are nonetheless clearly intended to reflect not only Socrates’s 
ideas but his personality. Plato wanted the world to remember Socrates. Generations 
after Socrates’s death, warring philosophical schools such as the Stoics and the 
Skeptics each appropriated Socrates as figurehead. Though they disagreed on just 
about every point of doctrine, they were clear that in order to count themselves as 
philosophers they had to somehow be working in the tradition of Socrates
Over and over again, Socrates approaches people who are remarkable for their lack 
of humility—which is to say, for the fact that they feel confident in their own 
knowledge of what is just, or pious, or brave, or moderate. You might have supposed 
that Socrates, whose claim to fame is his awareness of his own ignorance, would 
treat these self-proclaimed “wise men” (Sophists) with contempt, hostility, or 
indifference. But he doesn’t. The most remarkable feature of Socrates’s 
approach is his punctilious politeness and sincere enthusiasm. 
The conversation usually begins with Socrates asking his interlocutor: Since you 
think you know, can you tell me, what is courage (or wisdom, or piety, or justice . . .)? 
Over and over again, it turns out that they think they can answer, but they can’t. 
Socrates’s hope springs eternal: even as he walks toward the courtroom to be tried
—and eventually put to death—for his philosophical activity, he is delighted to 
encounter the self-important priest Euthyphro, who will, surely, be able to say what 
piety is. (Spoiler: he’s not.) 
Her
article resonates with those of us who are sceptical of the
mainstream media (MSM) and the polarisation brought by the social
media 
Most
people steer conversations into areas where they have expertise; they
struggle to admit error; they have a background confidence that they
have a firm grip on the basics. They are happy to think of other
people – people
who have different political or religious views, or got a different
kind of education, or live in a different part of the world - as
ignorant and clueless. They are eager to claim the status of
knowledge for everything they themselves think. 
Socrates saw the pursuit of knowledge as a collaborative project involving two 
very different roles. There’s you or I or some other representative of Most People, 
who comes forward and makes a bold claim. Then there’s Socrates, or one of his 
contemporary descendants, who questions and interrogates and distinguishes and 
calls for clarification. This is something we’re often still doing—as philosophers, 
as scientists, as interviewers, as friends, on Twitter and Facebook and in many 
casual personal conversations. We’re constantly probing one another, asking, 
“How can you say that, given X, Y, Z?” We’re still trying to understand one another 
by way of objection, clarification, and the simple fact of inability to take what 
someone has said as knowledge. It comes so naturally to us to organize ourselves 
into the knower/objector pairing that we don’t even notice we are living in the 
world that Socrates made. The scope of his influence is remarkable. But equally 
remarkable is the means by which it was achieved: he did so much by knowing, 
writing, and accomplishing—nothing at all. 
And yet for all this influence, many of our ways are becoming far from Socratic. 
More and more our politics are marked by unilateral persuasion instead of 
collaborative inquiry. If, like Socrates, you view knowledge as an essentially 
collaborative project, you don’t go into a conversation expecting to persuade any 
more than you expect to be persuaded. 
By contrast, if you do assume you know, you embrace the role of persuader in advance, 
and stand ready to argue people into agreement. If argument fails, you might tolerate 
a state of disagreement—but if the matter is serious enough, you’ll resort to enforcing 
your view through incentives or punishments. Socrates’s method eschewed the pressure 
to persuade. At the same time, he did not tolerate tolerance. His politics of humility 
involved genuinely opening up the question under dispute, in such a way that neither party 
would be permitted to close it, to settle on an answer, unless the other answered the same. 
By contrast, our politics—of persuasion, tolerance, incentives, and punishment—is deeply 
uninquisitive. 
But
the additional message it contains is the value of geniune
exchanges – of real conversations and here we enter the realm made
famous by Theodor
Zeldin (who
will
be 90 in a few weeks and is perhaps best known for his encouragement
of the
art of conversation).
He is also
a maverick historian whose books have searched for answers to three
main questions
	- 
	Where
	can a person find more inspiring ways of spending each day? 
- 
	What
	ambitions remain unexplored, beyond happiness, prosperity, faith,
	love, technology, or therapy? 
	- 
	What
	role could there be for individuals with independent minds, or those
	who feel isolated, different, or are sometimes labeled as misfits? 
His work has brought people together to engage in conversations in a variety
 of settings – communal and business – on the basis of some basic principles
His latest book is The Hidden Pleasures of Life It's an epub so does need 
conversion
 
Socrates did not write philosophy; he simply went around talking to people. But these conversations
 were so transformative that Plato devoted his life to writing dialogues that represent Socrates in 
conversation. These dialogues are not transcripts of actual conversations, but they are nonetheless
 clearly intended to reflect not only Socrates’s ideas but his personality. Plato wanted the world to 
remember Socrates. Generations after Socrates’s death, warring philosophical schools such as the 
Stoics and the Skeptics each appropriated Socrates as figurehead. Though they disagreed on just 
about every point of doctrine, they were clear that in order to count themselves as philosophers they 
had to somehow be working in the tradition of Socrates.
Over and over again, Socrates approaches people who are remarkable for their lack of humility—which 
is to say, for the fact that they feel confident in their own knowledge of what is just, or pious, or 
brave, or moderate. You might have supposed that Socrates, whose claim to fame is his awareness of 
his own ignorance, would treat these self-proclaimed “wise men” (Sophists) with contempt, hostility, 
or indifference. But he doesn’t. The most remarkable feature of Socrates’s approach is his 
punctilious politeness and sincere enthusiasm. 
The conversation usually begins with Socrates asking his interlocutor: Since you think you know, can 
you tell me, what is courage (or wisdom, or piety, or justice . . .)? Over and over again, it turns out that 
they think they can answer, but they can’t. Socrates’s hope springs eternal: even as he walks toward 
the courtroom to be tried—and eventually put to death—for his philosophical activity, he is delighted 
to encounter the self-important priest Euthyphro, who will, surely, be able to say what piety is. 
(Spoiler: he’s not.) 
Her
article resonates with those of us who are sceptical of the
mainstream
media (MSM) and the polarisation brought
by the
social media
Most people steer conversations into areas where they have expertise; they struggle to admit error; they have 
a background confidence that they have a firm grip on the basics. They are happy to think of other people - people 
who have different political or religious views, or got a different kind of education, or live in a different part of 
the world - as ignorant and clueless. They are eager to claim the status of knowledge for everything they themselves think. 
Socrates saw the pursuit of knowledge as a collaborative project involving two very different roles. 
There’s you or I or some other representative of Most People, who comes forward and makes a bold claim. Then 
there’s Socrates, or one of his contemporary descendants, who questions and interrogates and distinguishes and 
calls for clarification. This is something we’re often still doing—as philosophers, as scientists, as interviewers, as 
friends, on Twitter and Facebook and in many casual personal conversations. We’re constantly probing one another,
 asking, “How can you say that, given X, Y, Z?” We’re still trying to understand one another by way of objection, 
clarification, and the simple fact of inability to take what someone has said as knowledge. It comes so naturally 
to us to organize ourselves into the knower/objector pairing that we don’t even notice we are living in the world 
that Socrates made. The scope of his influence is remarkable. But equally remarkable is the means by which it was 
achieved: he did so much by knowing, writing, and accomplishing—nothing at all. 
And yet for all this influence, many of our ways are becoming far from Socratic. More and more our politics 
are marked by unilateral persuasion instead of collaborative inquiry. If, like Socrates, you view knowledge as an 
essentially collaborative project, you don’t go into a conversation expecting to persuade any more than you expect 
to be persuaded. 
By contrast, if you do assume you know, you embrace the role of persuader in advance, and stand ready to argue 
people into agreement. If argument fails, you might tolerate a state of disagreement—but if the matter is serious 
enough, you’ll resort to enforcing your view through incentives or punishments. Socrates’s method eschewed the 
pressure to persuade. At the same time, he did not tolerate tolerance. His politics of humility involved genuinely 
opening up the question under dispute, in such a way that neither party would be permitted to close it, to settle 
on an answer, unless the other answered the same. By contrast, our politics—of persuasion, tolerance, incentives, 
and punishment—is deeply uninquisitive. 
But
the additional message it contains is the
value of geniune exchanges – of real conversations and here we
enter the realm made famous by Theodor
Zeldin
(who will
be 90 in a few
weeks
and is perhaps best known for his encouragement of the
art of conversation).
He is
also a maverick historian
whose
books have searched for answers to three main questions
His work has brought people together to engage in conversations in a variety of settings 
– communal and business – on the basis of some basic principles
His latest book is The Hidden Pleasures of Life It's an epub so does need conversion
A
Zeldin Resource
http://www.gurteen.com/gurteen/gurteen.nsf/id/book-conversation
https://www.researchgate.net/publication/263330798_Zeldin_Theodore_1998_Conversation
http://www.oxfordmuse.com/media/muse-brochure[final].pdf
hidden
pleasures of
life http://www.anilgomes.com/uploads/2/3/9/7/23976281/gomes_tls.pdf
http://delarue.net/blog/wp-content/uploads/2008/08/OLC-April-2011_DeLaRue_Art-of-Conversation.pdf