Caught Unawares

“We are most revealed in what we do not scrutinize” claims Gould (qtd. in Mishra 141). I think this quote could be used to talk about all three texts by Mishra (“The Role of Abstraction in Scientific Illustration: Implications for Pedagogy”), Lakoff and Johnson (Metaphors We Live By—I’m guessing is the book), and Gross (“Rhetorical Analysis”). In other words, we are most revealed by what we assume.

Assumptions mask values—and beyond that, belief systems. Lakoff and Johnson describe metaphorical “concepts we live by,” which are basically “assumptions” we make at a linguistic level. For example, they point out our metaphorical concept that “argument is war” (4-6). Though they explain how we contrive argument as war, they don’t explain why we have arrived at this subtle conceptual metaphor (in contrast, note their explanation for the “time is money” metaphor on pages 8-9). Perhaps we “assume” that argument is war because we (at least Americans) value the idea of “winning” and superiority brought about by hard work and individualistic effort. Of course, even the values underlying this metaphorical concept of “argument is war” are metaphorical in nature, which leads us to question whether our values shape metaphor or metaphor shapes our values (a classic “chicken vs. egg” debate)…

Nonetheless, we might still pursue the idea that values underlie assumptions. Gross points out the common faulty assumption that science is emotionless and passionless: “the general freedom of scientific prose from emotional appeal must be understood not as neutrality but as a deliberate abstinence: the assertion of a value” (574). That value is “objectivity,” an emphasis on reason versus “unreasonable” emotion (an assumption in itself). Mishra’s discussion about a diagram of a heart compared to an actual heart (146-147) on one hand supports the assertion that diagrams are inherently symbolic for the express purpose of better understanding the reality; on the other hand, the “neat arrangements” of the diagrammed heart reveals our value for orderliness (we can control order, not chaos; ultimately, underneath the value of orderliness is the value of power).

We function by making assumptions—otherwise, we’d never be able to do anything. Just think about all the assumptions we make even waking up in the morning: 1) There’s a reality outside of me, and therefore, the alarm I’m hearing is an actual stimulus and not part of my imagination 2) the alarm is ringing, so it must be 6 am 3) I have to wake up because it’s a school day 4) I can’t miss classes because my grades will worsen…etc. etc. That’s a silly example (with a ton of assumptions built into each “assumption” itself), but I hope that it gets my point across: essentially, we are assumption-making beings. Assumptions, after all, aren’t always bad things; they are what make language and communication feasible.

However, assumptions also limit the scope of what we can “see”: “The very systematicity that allows us to comprehend one aspect of a concept in terms of another…will necessarily hide other aspects of the concept” (Lakoff and Johnson 10). Following the same lines, Root-Bernstein says, “Pictures, tables, graphs can be dangerous things. Revealing one point, they hide assumptions, eliminate possibilities, prevent comparisons—silently, unobviously. Thus, a pattern makes sense of data but also limits what sense it can make up” (qtd. in Mishra 154). Throughout many of these blog posts, we’ve examined the uncertain nature of language, knowledge, and truth functioning in science; some of us have even come to the conclusion that “truth” and “knowledge” are both unstable constructs invented by humans. According to certain kinds of theoretical frameworks, these conclusions appear to make sense. However, the frameworks themselves are a sort of assumption which allows us to see certain things while at the same time obscuring others.

In the particular framework we’ve been using, we’ve discounted the existence of absolute, certain truth or knowledge because we assume that we can’t be given them from an outside source; in other words, we write off the possession of absolute truth or knowledge because we disbelieve in supernatural revelation. Underlying this assumption is probably a multitude of different values: the value of independence, freedom from judgment, and control over one’s life, to list a few. And yet, tied to the assumption that a higher power doesn’t exist are other assumptions as well: if a good, all-powerful God were real, pain wouldn’t exist in the world; nothing can exist without a cause; physical bodies couldn’t reside in “heaven”—assumptions and questions Quinn brings up in her article, “Sign Here If You Exist.”

I think it’s interesting that in his syllabus, Doug decided to label the two readings for Thursday as “Choosing truths.” The nuance of the word “choosing” makes me regard it as something done on an arbitrary whim, just as I would happen to “choose” chocolate ice cream over vanilla ice cream. But perhaps this impression is exactly the intent of the phrase. Earlier in the semester, I wrote a blog post about the “Faith of Science,” and both Liam and Doug (in a follow-up email) made excellent counterpoints about the nature of evidence and how we qualify good evidence. Doug wrote, “From the very earliest ages, we find ourselves able to have faith in something because we already have faith in something else.” Basically, we already have faith in the very evidences we use as the basis for faith in something else. It all goes back to assumptions. What if someone asserts, “Reasoning is futile nonsense”? Most of us would disagree with this statement, but we can’t prove it because the only way to argue with this statement would be to reason about it—which is a circular argument. We “know” that reasoning isn’t “futile nonsense” because we take it on faith (J. Budziszewski). 

If most of our knowledge—and reason itself—is taken on faith (which could be thought of as assumptions), then how do we “choose”?

“But which side will you choose? Reason cannot decide for us one war or the other; we are separated by an infinite gulf. A game is on, at the other side of this infinite distance, where either heads or tails may turn up. Which will you wager on?” ~Blaise Pascal