We shouldn’t use the adjective “logical” as a reward for people who think like we do. Nor can we dismiss the views of others we oppose by simply naming their statements as “emotional.”
One of the overworked judgments we often make about the communications of others is that the things which excite them are motivated by more “emotion” than “logic.” This is an old and stale dichotomy that clings to communication analysis like Velcro. Even though the distinction goes back as far as Aristotle, it’s proven to be nearly useless as a useful tool of insight. But this mental habit is slow to die. Thus, a law school professor regrets that “emotion can activate any behavior which has not been inhibited by reason.”1 And a defense attorney in a recent murder case expresses satisfaction that “We got 12 people that said they could look at the case based on reason, based on the evidence and not based on emotion.”2
There was perhaps a time when a person might appear to be saying something insightful about another’s errant thoughts by selling them short as “emotional rants.” But the judgment is now mostly a cop out: usually an attempt to dismiss another’s ideas as not worthy of serious consideration. Most of us have an image of emotion as the wayward and undisciplined child that parents could never control.
The more accurate view more in line with current thinking about everyday reasoning and cognitive psychology is that when we have strong feelings about some subjects, our heightened emotions are actually a function of a reasoning sequence, not a replacement for one. The next time you find yourself particularly agitated, consider the reasons you feel that way. You’ll surely find them. Just because someone else’s good reasons are not our’s is not sufficient justification to waive off the legitimacy of what has been said. The critic Kenneth Burke made the same point years ago, noting that descriptions of Adolph Hitler prior to and during World War II made a hash of understanding his appeals by calling them “emotional.” Hitler had his reasons for striking out at his neighbors and demonizing segments of his own population. To be sure, they were awful. But there was an internal logic at work flowing partly from a long-embedded norm of antisemitism, as well as psychic wounds that remained after World War I.
Important thinkers like Stephen Toulmin have reminded us that practical argumentation proceeds from logics that may indeed have faulty premises or bad evidence. But even logics of hate are often built on reasoning sequences that need to be understood as entailing a conclusion or world view. That’s what practical logic is about: reasoning from premises and evidence to a conclusion that follows.
The proper ground for assessing another’s view is usually with reference to the moral consequences of their assertions. Give people their due: they probably have a reasoning process for their understanding of how the world is constituted; that reasoning has no doubt intensified their feelings. What is more productive as a critique of a passionate conclusion is whether the advocate has considered the consequences of their reasoning, especially cherished principles that may be violated. From this perspective we may understand why someone has concerns about undocumented workers “taking” the jobs of Americans. We may question the factual basis of the claim. We may want to call the claim irrational and emotional. But we would get further to ask if the remedies to this ostensible problem (mass deportation, separating family members, and so on) creates more misery than it solves. That question begs us to consider whether we have the compassion to treat all humans–regardless of their status–with a reasonable level of decency. With this kind of analysis we are bound to create more light than heat. As the conservative critic Richard Weaver sought to remind us, “Ideas have consequences.”
____________________
[1] Gray L. Dorsey, “Symbols: Vehicles of Reason or of Emotion?” in Lyman Bryson, Louis Finkelstein, R. M. McIver, and Richard McKeon (Eds.), Symbols and Values: An Initial Study (New York: Cooper Square, 1964), p. 445.
[2] Katharine Seelye, “Tragedy From Last Season Lingers in Lake George,” New York Times, April 21, 2017, p. A24.
Of course we can do politics at a distance through all kinds of dreary media: direct mail, tweets, television advertising, robocalls and other poor substitutes for direct citizen action. But there’s a better option.
In the age of video politics and social media it may come as a surprise that political canvassing survives as a vital way to connect with voters. Though for many it may seem like a stretch to actually show up at someone’s front door and ask for their support, thousands of Americans are comfortable doing it. Canvassing is a proven way to increase a candidate’s chances. One study indicated a 10 percent increase in the likelihood a voter will show up on election day if they have met someone from the campaign.
We have over 500,000 elective offices in the United States. Most are for small districts, featuring local candidates who cannot afford TV buys or big campaign budgets. The solution? Put your supporters, friends and family to work going door to door and asking voters for their support. It’s always been an important feature in American political life. This humble approach is even credited with Barack Obama’s impressive presidential win in 2008. The former Chicago organizer seemed to remember a thing or two about mobilizing neighborhoods. In that year thousands were mobilized for a street by street effort in key states, spreading enthusiasm from one front porch to the next.
When insiders talk about a good “ground game” this is partly what they mean. It’s no wonder that the emerging wisdom in campaign strategizing is to put less money into video ads and more into organizing recruits to knock on the doors of the still undecided.
Social media and face to face canvassing share the common thread of a more interpersonal approach to political persuasion. The canvas in particular is a hopeful exercise in direct citizen to citizen action. By comparison, candidates who phone in a plea for support via robocalls seem positively lazy .
Two recent developments are reminders of the importance of canvassing. One is a new book by Jonathan Allen and Amie Parnes on the failed 2016 Clinton campaign. Shattered: Inside Hillary Clinton’s Doomed Campaign lays part of her defeat to the fact that her staff did not follow the Obama playbook of fully committing to get-out-the-vote efforts. Of course neither did the victor’s campaign. But Donald Trump in 2016 was an outlier in so many ways that it is risky to view his path to the White House as a bellwether.
The second development comes from recent reports that some of the parties fighting for dominance in the French elections are trying out American-style canvassing. The tradition is deeply entrenched in Britain, but not across the Channel in France, where talking politics at the front door of a stranger’s home is considered unusual. But it reflects a feature that motivates so much effective canvassing: an urgency at the grassroots to do something to stave off an election disaster: in this case, what some fear could be a Trump-style victory by far-right candidate Marine Le Pen. Whatever the outcome of the final vote on May 7, the result is good for democracy in France. More citizens will have engaged in meaningful contact with their neighbors on a vital question worthy of their effort.
Few householders are hostile. And most seem surprised that someone cares enough to show up.
Of course we can do politics at a distance through all kinds of dreary media: direct mail, tweets, television advertising, robocalls and other mechanical means that are poor substitutes for direct citizen action. But all are disembodied, remote and impersonal. Only social media come close to rendering an impression of direct contact with others we know. And even that is partly an illusion: something short of a genuine conversation with a neighbor in real time and space.
A modern canvasser should not expect a cakewalk. Many doorbells will not be answered. And some campaigns send their workers to the wrong houses (a micro-targeting challenge that is never easy). But few householders are hostile. Most seem surprised that someone cares enough to show up. And all seem grateful that the canvasser isn’t launching into a lecture about eternal salvation.
