The well thinkings
John Gray makes a familiar point.
SEEING THEMSELVES as fiercely independent thinkers, bien-pensants are remarkable chiefly for the fervor with which they propagate the prevailing beliefs of their time.
Prevailing where? Prevailing among whom?
Bertrand Russell, John Stuart Mill’s godson and a scion of one of England’s great political dynasties, exemplified this contradiction throughout most of his life. British philosopher A. C. Grayling can now be counted amongst his number.
Okay – he means “prevailing among people who think similar things” – which is a tautology. He’s pointing out that independent thinkers (fierce or otherwise) are not usually so very independent that they think things that no one else anywhere thinks. Right. Well we knew that, actually. If you’re such an independent thinker that no one on the entire planet agrees with you about anything, you’re a paranoid schizophrenic.
He’s letting us know that independent thinkers too form clumps, or groups, at least in the sense that one can point out ideas that they have in common. Yes – that’s true – but who thought it wasn’t?
His point perhaps is that you can’t claim to be an independent thinker if you have ideas in common with other self-proclaimed independent thinkers, because ideas-in-common rules out independent-thinking.
It doesn’t though, because the ideas could be in common and also independent in the sense of examined, thought about, questioned, critically considered, analyzed.
There’s another thing: I don’t actually know anyone who goes around saying “I am a fiercely independent thinker.” How does John Gray know that’s how bien pensants see themselves? I don’t think he does know; I think it’s his interpretation. There may be some truth in it, but his flat-footed announcement is a trifle smug, especially for the purposes of deriding the putative smugness and bien pensantness of other people.
His real point, stated more neutrally and clearly than he managed, is that people can pride themselves on being independent thinkers while still in fact conforming closely to the norms of their own social group. True. It is possible to be critical and skeptical in one direction and conformist and credulous in another, or the former in some directions and the latter in others. It’s as well to be aware of that.
But then again, it’s also as well not to get too hung up about it. Being an independent thinker isn’t the only good, or an absolute good, or the highest good. There are some parts of the bien pensant Book of Rules that are worth conforming to. Sometimes conformity is better than independent thinking. Traffic is one example – but equality is another. That’s at the heart of Gray’s sneer, I think – the terrible bien pensant herds of Hampstead all think alike on the subject of equality; they are all sheeplike in their aversion to racism and sexism and homphobia. Well, good. Independent thinking that takes the form of belief in social subordination is no loss.
I’m a fascist anarchist, how independent is that?
[Disclaimer: contents may not match packaging.]
John Gray’s clarity of reason and magnificence of prose reminds me of nothing so much as how Madeleine Bunting would write if she were an Oxford-trained academic.
Roll a die a thousand times; the outcome of any individual roll is statistically independent of any other, but after the fact, we can still sort the results into groups. “Rolls 1, 4, 5, 7, 11, 14, … and 993 all came up 2.”
Well, if you happen to be right about something, you’re bound to agree with others who are also right.
He does go on, doesn’t he? I suspect that the main reason that Gray’s article is so tediously protracted is that inspiration was lacking and he had to resort to emotive and rebarbative padding. It is possible to say nothing at all very fluently, and every good preacher knows just how useful that can be.
Gray is a man of faith, but a grouchy one with a determination to be unreasonable. He is a negative exemplar of the sort of mind of which Karen Armstrong is the positive.
They have the same remarkable ability to synthesise every little detail that turns up, and the same lack of the self-criticism which should cause them to question whether the resulting mélange is truthful.
This is why their books seem to read like a collage of associations arranged to produce a certain picture. Hence the non sequiturs, hence the continual generalising, the curious chronologies, the odd way in which different historical events are arranged on the page, the ignoring of the points-of-view of real people. Hence the tendency to fit particular individuals into a distorting frame, passing off their just cries of outrage with some convenient comparison. Whereas in Armstrong’s case the flow of associations is intended to arouse a sort of ecstasy in the reader (and perhaps a conversion experience?) Gray merely aims to depress (minds, values…). But ultimately, both are in the same business of undermining, not in fact an iconic “rationalism”, but mere honest reasonableness. Myth rules, critical thinking and intelligent observation are repressed.
I suspect that both of them enjoy the exhilarating sense of going with the flow, of seeing the ecstatically mystical or satisfyingly Wagnerian picture that emerges. But it’s dishonest because, although allowing the mind to follow this kind of game-of-association can in principle end up anywhere, in practice the direction is determined by personal leanings.
It’s possible, as they show, to get very good at this, and it can produce a sense of complete knowledge, even wisdom, which can be intoxicating. The will to take advantage of it is what makes a good preacher. In another direction, it is what produces a composer like Bach (or Wagner). The question of whether synthetic skills are employed appropriately and honestly is critical.
I am certainly independent of whatever Gray’s clique is.
Blimey, Gordon; very eloquent.
Why, thank you very much, Ophelia. And thank you, Josh for the paragraphs.