The real problem with Trump’s rhetoric

It has taken me forever to try to figure out why Trump’s hyperbolic bluster, outright lies, and paranoiac screeching has any effectiveness at all – and it’s not simply that the media find it fascinating.

 

The fact is, Trump is saying exactly what his core followers would say in the same situation.  They would want to order people about; they would want to threaten and bully; they want to belittle people noticeably different from themselves.  They want to “grab her by the pussy;” they want to laugh at the disabled; they want to threaten nuclear war.  They want to gloat over perceived enemies after every little victory, and to blame others for every failure.

 

The key to understanding Trump’s behavior since entering the White House is that he is always playing to these core followers.  He has nothing to say to Merkel; it is more important to his followers that he say something about her.  By now he must know that bullying doesn’t work with Congress – even his Republicans; but that doesn’t matter, it’s the appearance of bullying that delights his core following.  He mocks the press because they have not fallen in line and glamorized him as he thinks they ought to – and that thrills his core following, who believe him glamorous as they could never be.

 

The real problem with Trump’s rhetoric is – Trump’s voters (or at least what I am calling his core followers, his true believers).  They represent about a third of the electorate, and they have no contact with any reality science can study, any logic one might wish to use in argument, and evidence not promised in conspiracy theories that will never be brought out in public (because of course non-existent; but that doesn’t matter to them, because they ‘believe’ in it, that’s all the validation they need).

 

That’s the problem.  A third of the electorate unreachable by any reasonable discourse or fact or evidence.  A personality cult verging on a religion.

 

It has been often said, without an informed an electorate, democracy is unsustainable.  Well, America is at least a third underwater now; and unfortunately, they’re the ones who elected the captain of the boat.

The election’s over; what now?

Among the many gaffes, groundless accusations, false flags, insults and general whining these past couple weeks, Donald Trump assured his followers that he couldn’t possibly lose in Pennsylvania unless the election were rigged.   Let’s stop and consider the logic of that.  Trump was not relying on any polls (indeed he has taken to deny they matter).  He was not referring to a tsunami of letters to the editor of various news organizations, or some set of petitions.  His reference point seems to be entirely his own ‘gut,’ his confidence that everyone recognizes him as the ‘smartest guy in the room,’ who so many people love and admire.

Actually, my suspicion is that his true reference point is simply and only the applause he hears from fans at rallies.  If true, that tells us a lot about the man, first of all that he really doesn’t get the difference between fans applauding and an electorate voting.  But I think it is becoming more and more obvious that this is exactly the case.

But the logic of his assertion that he can only lose if the election’s rigged, extends beyond the rallies.  Basically, what he’s saying is, that since it s so obvious that he’s so smart, and would do such wonderful things, and is so beloved for this – the election is now immaterial.  Indeed, if Trump’s gut were a true measure of reality, then we shouldn’t hold the election at all.  Hillary should simply throw in the towel, and the House of Representatives appoint him to office.

The irony is that Trump is making his gut known on this matter at exactly the moment when it is now possible to admit that the next President of the United States will be Hillary Clinton.

Hillary Clinton is some not so nice things for a progressive – or even a liberal.  She does lie, she is dishonest, she is conniving and manipulative.  She’s also a neocon on foreign policy, and a neo-liberal on economics.  The judge she appoints to the Supreme Court will steadfast moderates – meaning that while the train-wreck that was the Roberts court is now over, it’s legacy will not be undone by any major reversals.  On top of that, she has now a small constituency of anti-Trump Republicans that she will have to accommodate after election.  In short, Clinton’s offers to become the most conservative Democratic administration since Woodrow Wilson.

However there is one thing Clinton is not, that Trump now obviously is – She is not mentally ill.

Call it sociopathy, or narcissism or delusions of grandeur or some other out-of-touch egomania, what you will.  Donald Trump has not the slightest clue as to the nature of the political process, the nature of government, what it means to be a political leader of the most powerful nation in a very complicated world order that is untethering at the seams in response to years of finance-capital-elite driven globalization.  (In fact, by some reports, he wouldn’t even know what to do in day to day administrative tasks, and is not entirely enthusiastic about becoming President for that reason.)

However – the good news is, that the election is all but over.  Whatever the final numbers prove, this is why Donald Trump has lost the election:

Demographics:  Besides loyal Democrats, Trump has alienated the majority of each of the following voting blocks:

African Americans, Asian Americans, Hispanic Americans, Muslim Americans, non-Muslim Americans from pre-dominantly Muslim nations, Mormons, Jews, Americans with disabilities, LGBT Americans, atheist Americans, scientists, veterans, parents of veterans, attractive women, not so attractive women, mothers, women who menstruate (I think that’s quite a number), Republican women, Republican moderates, Republican politicians struggling to retain their seats in the next congress, Republicans concerned for national security, Republican business people, the college educated (left and right), Americans who don’t like Putin, Americans who like babies – and the list goes on.  Trump has failed to alienate angry uneducated white men, but recent polls indicate that he’s no longer doing so well among them.  (And yes, he has alienated the Christian Right, but then hired Mike Pence for VP to make amends.)

But, that’s not all.  Trump has utterly failed to understand the post-nomination campaign process.  He has no ground game, few storefronts with door-to-door campaigners, few liasons with local Republican politicians.  (It’s not even clear he understands why that’s needed.)  He expected the RNC to fund his campaign, when part of the responsibility of the Presidential nominee is to raise funds for the Party.  He has isolated himself from the national press, failing to realize that he is expected, in part, to speak through them, especially were he to become the President.

It clear now that Trump has no strategy.  His pet boy Manafort may be able to guide him to battleground states, but in as lop-sided an election as this, he can’t just ignore previously safe ‘Red’ states – even Arizona, probably the most right-wing Republican state in the West, and one suffering severe tensions between dominant Anglos and a Mexican American underclass, is now in play.

But Trump’s biggest problem, of course, is his own mouth.  He can’t stop it.  That’s why he is clearly pathological.  He sounds like a robot when he reads a written speech, but when he goes off-text, he’s an uncontrollable, foam-at-the-mouth ranter, and self-promoter.  Even if his people could get him to reign it in, it’s probably too late.

The next big moment of the campaign season is the arrival of the Presidential debates.  My guess right now is that Trump will probably make it through one or two before he blows up.  After which he will ‘double-down’ on the narrative that the ‘system is so rigged against me, they won’t let me win,’ because by that time it will be obvious even to him that he has already effectively lost the election.

So the discussion progressives and liberals now need to begin is, what are we do during the Clinton administration – how do we further progressive causes and somehow begin winning seats in Congress and in State capitols?    That’s a long game to play; but otherwise we may have more nightmares like 2016 further down the road.

The dead end of moral relativism

I confess that I would find it very difficult to go to the families of the victims in Orlando, and explain that ethical prohibitions against murder are simply a question of taste; that their suffering is a matter of complete indifference, philosophically; and that the deaths of their loved ones are of little importance because these were somehow predestined by random physical acts at the Big Bang; or because, being gay, they weren’t expected to pass on their genes.

If evolution has gotten us to that point – it wasn’t worth it.

There are certainly those suggesting such a perspective – by logical implication and extension – that there is no ‘wrong’ to it. Don’t we even have those proudly declaiming that they are happy making no judgment concerning Hitler?

Come on – let’s get real. Ethics is not about theory (and certainly not about meta-theory), it’s about behavior – those behaviors we enact, and those of others we live with.

I find the denial of ethics to be inhumane, arrogant, and egotistical. It’s really a way of saying, ‘ethical standards do not apply to me (or only when I want them to).’

The squirrelly, weaseled language defending such a vacuous, self-centered, anti-social antipathy toward all the social bindings that make living human difficult, painful, and sometimes joyous is *at best* evidence of a lack of tact and rhetorical skill; at worst… well, something far worse.

How can people who claim that ethics is entirely a matter of feelings, be so insensitive to the feelings of others, so as not to recognize that our discussions of ethics, both in the Academy and in the wider community, are part of the process that brings people together, that forms the community, that generates our laws and our sense of decency.

I should note that conventionalism, ala Hume and Darwin, is in itself an ethic (not a meta-ethic) that the Logical Positivists relied on in their effort to curtail discussion of ethics in philosophy. This is almost never discussed as such in philosophy, because its faults are plain: projected out from a given society, it spirals down the rabbit hole of relativism. (‘We don’t like murder of girl infants in Europe; but if they practice that in the backwoods of China, who are we to say it’s wrong?’) Consequently it is usually defended as a consequentialism. But consequentialism, just as such, is fundamentally simplistic, and blurs into psychological anxieties involving such issues as peer pressure and legal sanction. Someone who’s gay can still be fired for this some states. The self-loathing bisexual in Orlando, no longer able to tolerate the multiple threats to his own sense of identity, produced a consequence he apparently hoped would meet approval from at least one group of self-serving religious fanatics – and he accomplished this consequence. He wanted to die doing that – and he did.

Ethics must be complex, complicated, sociologically rich and psychologically layered, in addressing human needs, fears, hopes, because it is about maintaining a stable society with as little potential for harming others as possible.

We all behave according to ‘oughts;’ whether derived from utility, or religion, or deontologically; virtue, or convention or consequence. The question is *how we share these with others*. Because when we don’t, the only ‘oughts’ an individual may comply with are psychological drives, some of which lead to destruction or self-destruction.

Again, this iss the logical implication of what is said, extended into the practicalities of real life – and not empty and undisciplined ‘theorizing.’

Ideas have consequences. We live with them. That is why study, sharing, caution and care, are so important.

I didn’t lose anybody in Orlando. But I did on 9/11/01. Gesticulations about ‘utilizations’ for maximum ‘good/bad’ in some empty theory insult me in times like this.

I don’t care to discuss such matters with those who even won’t pass judgment on Hitler; half the family of my first girlfriend (whose memory I still cherish) was wiped out in Dachau.

Such people keep saying its all about emotions, likes and dislikes; but they don’t care about any of this, any of the real feelings of the people they address – even on their own terms, why the hell should we care about them?

I’m sorry; I won’t talk to any of them about such matters anymore – they don’t have anything to say that I would find interesting in any way. If I found myself on a bus with them, I would get off and hitch-hike. Then maybe I’d get a ride from someone with something interesting to say about politics and ethics. It might not be ‘philosophical,’ in the professional sense (and certainly not ‘theoretical’) – but at least it would be the meat and potatoes of real people talking about real things.

The moral relativists should explain how their positions properly ground condemnation of the Orlando murders. All of them, really. Or let them keep their disgusting egoism to themselves, because I won’t be paying attention anymore… .


Note added next day:

I’ve realized that I need to clarify to what or whom I am referring to as “moral relativists” –  especially since I am to some extent a relativist of a kind, in that I think weighing the differing behaviors of peoples from different cultures must always be undertaken carefully and with charitable tolerance for behaviors that may be useful and conducive to greater well-being within the given culture.  No, what I am referring to here are those who gleefully proclaim their independence from ethics all together, who would even argue that we should have no discussion of ethics, particularly in philosophy or politics.  This makes no sense at all. We do not have any guidance of behavior that is somehow free of the necessity for public articulation or public argument; and as long as this is the case, there must also be a corresponding philosophic discussion of the general principles of such articulation and argument.  And the inevitable response to this seems to be, that we don’t need any guidance of behavior at all, and this is clearly false, for reasons I suggested above.  We will have such guidance; the question is whether it will be reasonable and social, or whether it will be egocentric or psychologically driven.  I believe the former is more conducive to the possibility of stability and greater flourishing.  The latter creates monsters and generates violence.  And we just don’t need that anymore- we ought not to have it anymore – we cannot survive together like that anymore.

Hitler’s religion

Was Adolf Hitler a Christian? Was he, as others charge, an atheist? [1]

These questions are poorly formed. A more apt question would be, ‘What did he ‘believe’ beyond his own destiny, if anything?’

A preliminary point that needs to be made concerns the touchy question about which scholars one trusts and which one does not; but I don’t really want to raise that issue. Nonetheless, a rule of thumb is, if the same historical trend has been noted independently by different scholars giving careful interpretation of the source materials, then likely their remarks can be trusted, and any disagreements resolved through consideration of their differing perspectives. The majority of scholars I’m familiar with agree that Nazi Germany, and the Nazis themselves, were not as religiously homogenous. Hitler’s own beliefs depend on a careful study of Mein Kampf – selected passages will mean nothing taken out of context.

Such a move leaves one utterly unable to account for the complexities of Hitler’s psychology; unable to account for his biography, what led him to the juncture that Mein Kampf marks as the arrival of the historical Hitler; unable to account for the complex relationship Hitler had with the German right and the German people as a whole. It will certainly not adequately account for the anti-Semitism; or for the obvious tensions between Hitler’s own cosmogony and that of Christianity, which are not identical and in many respects antagonistic.

Quite a number of scholars believe that the evidence strongly suggests that the Nazis not only intended to re-interpret Christianity, but do away with it entirely. (The ‘bible’ they placed on the alter of the one church they established themselves, in Berlin, was of course – Mein Kampf.) That doesn’t make them atheists, but I never said it did. The matter needs greater study, more complex and nuanced argument, greater accounting of the historical context. The problem at the time was not simply Nazism, nor religion, but the history of Germany to that date, and the malaise the Germans found themselves in during the 1920s. The issue simply cannot be reduced to a question of whether they had a religion or not. They had Hitler.

What Hitler himself seems to have believed about himself and his place in the world, is that Fate – some cosmic force, which he sometimes equates with ‘the Almighty,’ but also simply refers to as a less personalized ‘Fate’ or ‘Destiny’ – had placed him at the epicenter of an age old racially determined struggle between the Aryan and the Jew. ‘Good’ (Aryan) and ‘evil’ (Jew) are entirely defined by this struggle, there is no morality otherwise. [2] His dedication to this struggle effectively became his religion.

Thus, Hitler’s own profound sense of personal destiny and his rage against the Jews led to his religion – not the other way around.

Mein Kampf is an act of self-creation. It’s a passion, a narrative of apotheosis of a self-identified savant and savior.

After the disappointment of the Beer Hall Putsch, Hitler wanted to trash the established right-wing, with its old militarism, and re-define Nazism as a holistic anti-Semitic revolution, and at the same time culminate the reconstruction of his personality that had been on-going after his nervous collapse at (and as response to) the end of WWI. This meant providing an entire cosmogony that could synthesize with both traditional beliefs and prejudices as well as then-contemporary popular understandings of scientific knowledge. It also meant providing a mythic figure that could function as both prophet and savior – Hitler himself, of course.

It is not at all clear what Hitler really thought about the trends of belief that came before him, whether that which could be found in traditional churches, or the developments of science. Paganism, eugenics, Weimar hedonism, evangelical tent-revivals, blind faith in technological innovation, paranoid denial of then current physics – all were simply melted into the alloy forged in the furnace of Hitler’s rage against the world (where he had only felt belonging as a soldier during during the First World War [3}). (A close reading of Mein Kampf reveals that he actually held Germans in contempt almost as much as Jews – “Are these still human beings, worthy of being part of a great nation?” he allows himself to wonder in evident disgust, concerning the German construction workers with whom he worked before the war. [4]) Hitler’s racism was conditioned by Social Darwinism as well as by ‘special creation’ theories, since both were prevalent in that day; but originated in his personal disgust with the human, and his experience of the world as little more than a battleground in a war of all against all.

Claiming to know “what Hitler believed” is simply facile, without struggling to grasp who this cypher was [5] or why his speeches resonated so well with the Germans of his day. It is also a misconception of modern revolutions to try to define their attempts to supplant previous religious beliefs with their preferred ideology, as reducible to the imperatives of their ideology. It is in the nature of modern revolution itself to supplant and dissolve traditional religion. This is as true of ISIS as it was true of the French Revolution’s “Church of Reason.” And it was certainly true of Hitler’s self-created messianism. Of course Hitler would find it useful to claim the authority of “the All-Mighty” for his project. But beyond some profound sense of personal destiny, it is wholly unclear that Hitler believed there was anything ‘out there’ but chaos and never-ending conflict. Although Hitler courted the Wagner family to lay claim on Nietzsche, in fact the only philosopher he read was Schopenhauer (although he inverted Schopenhauer’s understanding of Will as what needed to be constrained, choosing instead to unleash it).

So what did Hitler believe? I have tried to suggest here that, while the question is most certainly interesting, answers to it cannot be reduced to ‘ready-mades’ to fit our own ideological preferences. He was a product of history – but that history was not simple, not linear, and not uni-vocal. Like most of history, it was – and remains – a morass of conflicting urges and social pressures against the individual’s will to achieve some importance – some sense of ‘being there.’

That’s the problem – the will to become a self in opposition to all other selves.

Any ideology promising that will only bring about heart-break.

—–

[1] Really, the dangling of the ‘Hitler-monster’ in the theist/ atheist god debate has got to stop. It does no justice to the victims of Nazism, and distorts the history rather than clarifying it. ‘Well, they started it!’ each side claims – I don’t care. It’s got to stop. It is poorly informed, a-historical, and contributes to the general stock of discursive muddle that plagues the public mind, especially on the internet. Those who think they really have a case to make, should engage in the research necessary to make that case, and not mine for quotes. As raw source, Hitler can be made to say practically anything. Anyway, the whole “believers in X do nasty things, therefore X is wrong,” is a bad argument. Every ideology contains imperatives that can be used to justify even heinous acts. The real lesson of Hitler here is that, if one wants to perform those acts, one will find the justification for it – or make it up.

[2} See: Lucy S. Dawidowicz, The war against the Jews, 1933-1945. Weidenfeld And Nicolson (1975).

[3] See: Kenneth Burke, “The Rhetoric of Hitler’s Battle” in The Philosophy of Literary Form: Studies in Symbolic Action. Vintage. pp. 191-220. Reprinted Berkeley, California: University of California Press(1974).

[4] Adolf Hitler, Mein Kampf. Translated and edited by Alvin Johnson et.al., Reynal & Hitchcock (1941); page 54.

[5] See: Joachim C Fest, Hitler. Translated by Richard and Clara Winston, Harcourt (1973).

Hitler’s Mom

I’ve remarked in comments here and elsewhere, that I once wrote a critical-rhetorical analysis of Adolf Hitler’s Mein Kampf  (circa 1994). I would like to submit here a chapter of that analysis, so that if further reference to it becomes necessary, there is evidence of its existence.

This particular chapter, as essay, reveals the somewhat odd relationship Hitler had with his mother, at least as far as can be gleaned from Hitler’s text.

The argument:  Hitler uses rhetoric to redefine his early experiences in a way that tends to bury facts, suppress anxieties concerning women and sexuality, and shape those experiences as seeming necessities of fate. The principle revealing rhetorical moment is when, having effectively blamed his mother for the poverty he suffered in Vienna (eliding his own irresponsibility as something of a wastrel), he tropes a new mother for himself (‘Dame Care’), which thenceforth effaces memory of his actual mother altogether.

One reason for posting here is the recent legalized publication of Mein Kampf  in Germany for the first time since WWII. It is also always a good thing to remind ourselves, not only of what Hitler and his  followers did, but the kind of people they were – especially since there are many such people among us, unfortunately even in politics.

Finally, I hope the essay demonstrates the helpful interaction between rhetoric and history (and indirectly psychology). The understanding of history is not simply the recording of facts, but a greater understanding of the people who make history, and of their motivations.

(Another time, I will probably tell something of the story of why I did not follow the full study through to publication, which is not without its own interest…. )
—–

Hitler’s Two Mothers, by E. John Winner:

My mother, to be sure, felt obliged to continue my education in accordance with my father’s wish; in other words, to have me study for the civil servant’s career.
(…)
Concerned over my illness, my mother finally consented to take me out of the Realschule and let me attend the Academy.
(…)
Two years later, the death of my mother put a sudden end to all my highflown plans.
It was the conclusion of a long and painful illness which from the beginning left little hope of recovery. Yet it was a dreadful blow, particularly for me. I had honored my father, but my mother I had loved.
(…)
What little my father had left had been largely exhausted by my mother’s grave illness(…). [1]
(…)
When my mother died, Fate, at least in one respect, had made its decisions. [2]
(…)
After the death of my mother I went to Vienna (…). [3]
(…)
I exalt it [poverty] for tearing me away from the hollowness of a comfortable life; for drawing the mother’s darling out of his soft downy bed and giving him ‘Dame Care’ for a new mother (…). [4]

In a book of some 300,000 words, much of it purporting to be autobiographical in nature, and from a man who had, at the time of writing, lived nearly half his life with his mother, the above handful of sentences and fragments comprise every last word Adolf Hitler chose to write about his mother in Mein Kampf.

Respect his father but love his mother? Considering her nearly complete absence from his autobiographical material here, one wonders if he thought much about her at all.

Historians tend to agree that Klara (Polzl) Hitler, the young wife of a middle-aged man (who, by some accounts, abused her), several of whose children died before the age of six, spoiled her only surviving son (excluding step-children), Adolf. One could expect that. And one could expect that the son would be devoted to his mother in return; or, if the relationship took a pathological turn, perhaps the son would respond to the fawning attentions of the mother with an equal pathology, in what might be termed a ‘love/hate’ relationship. It could take on even a sado-masochistic quality. Certainly Hitler’s character and reputation invite this interpretation. But, alas! why doesn’t it show up in what he writes of her?

To be sure, National Socialism’s brutally exclusionary ideology, and its dominating attitude toward women, are well known. The ideal ‘Aryan’ is a male; women, even in terms of their most admirable qualities, are little more than baby-making housekeepers. Their greatest virtue, accordingly, would be their ‘racial purity’ – bearers of good genes. Nothing else would be asked, or expected of them. Indeed, any more would be too much. (But see the discussions in When Biology Became Destiny. [5])

Hitler’s own attitudes were kinky enough, even as manifest and openly expressed, without (pace the once famous OSS psychoanalysis by Langer [6]) speculating on his behavior in the bedroom. Hitler was oft dependent on women, and yet uncomfortable around them. He idealized them, avoided them, talked down to them. He treated both of his known mistresses, Geli Raubal and Eva Braun, as sometimes amusing, sometimes annoying, children. The matter is made more pathetically complex when one remembers that Hitler surrounded himself with the promiscuously homosexual leadership of SA, as well as pathologically sado-masochistic anti-Semites like Jules Streicher. And Hitler’s rants in Mein Kampf – against syphilis, prostitution, and genetic contamination – are widely held as evidence of his own sexual pathology, although no one is quite sure anymore what that pathology might of been. Disgust? Suppressed desire? Certainly these rants are mad parodies of reformist rhetoric, and need closer reading. But when revivalist ministers begin foaming at the mouth about the terrors of Hell, are they expressing a personal fear? doing all they can to save the souls of their listeners? or simply selling a belief in exchange for filled coffers? (And who would want to believe in the terrors of hell, and to what purpose?)

At any rate, the point is, Hitler’s attitude towards women per se is enough of a question that anything he might say about the first woman he would know intimately, his own mother, would promise to reveal much about that more general attitude which so informed the ideology of a major political movement that would eventually dominate an entire nation.

But such is not the case. Hitler’s one great opportunity to wax sentimentally over the virtues of motherhood, in their embodiment in the form of his own mother, slips by with little remark.

In sum, the story Hitler tells is this: His mother (notice the absence of name) feels obliged to continue with his dead father’s plans for his son. Then her own illness brings about her death. This impoverishes the son. He leaves for Vienna, and further poverty. However, this turns out to be fortuitous – indeed, decided by Fate. The son learns more from the harshness of his poverty than he could have learned from his comforting mother and her comfortable lifestyle. So much so, that itself becomes his surrogate mother thenceforth, figuratively speaking.

But what is the nature of this figure of speech? The unnamed actual mother becomes displaced by the figural mother, ‘Dame Care’ – apparently a noblewoman, and a masterly one. The actual mother could teach Hitler nothing, but ‘Dame Care’ is insistent, unyielding. From her, he begins to learn his lessons about life. She is thus his real mother, since she fulfills the parenting function.; the actual is thus displaced by the real. The actual had obligations, but would not meet them; thus her position is surrendered to the real. Of course, the death of the actual was convenient; but perhaps more than that: Fate, again, takes a hand.
There is bitterness in this little fable, but there is more. Interestingly, no scholar I’ve read seems to pick up on it; but Hitler’s ambivalence towards his mother, and towards her death, are right there on the surface, nothing could be clearer. He “loved” her, but her death turns out to be a good thing. She loved him, but this was not such a good thing, he learned nothing thereby. Perhaps (could this thought have crossed his mind?) it would have been better for her to fulfill her obligations to the dead father and push Hitler to pursue a civil servant’s career? But he hated this idea. Nonetheless, he would not have suffered in poverty if she had done so. Yet if he hadn’t suffered in poverty, he would never at last have learned the world, would never become the leader of a historically important political movement. So it was good that she relented, and good also that she died, and good that her death forced him into a life of poverty, and good that she was revealed as not a very good mother (for loving too much) by a parenting figure, Dame Care, poverty, who proves a much better mother indeed – because she (poverty) does not love her son.

So the matter stands thus: Whatever he actually once felt for his mother, by the time of the writing of Mein Kampf, Hitler had condemned her for loving too much, and fulfilling her parental (rather than wifely) obligations. He turned instead to experience itself to be his guide, assuming it to have a will (and thus a personality), and an intention for the education it was giving him. His own experience thus becomes projected outside of himself, as a power greater than himself, directing him in his career. As much as to say: ‘This happens to me, but the “This” has its reason for happening; it wills me to move in a given direction. It is not me, yet it makes me who I am.’

On the surface this sounds terribly optimistic, a healthy means of learning from one’s mistakes, so to speak. But Hitler isn’t writing of mistakes – all this has been fated, there are no mistakes. Under this seeming surrender to experience lies a complete denial of the lessons that could be learned from experience. ‘This wills itself on me;’ i.e., ‘I am not doing this, it is doing itself.’

Perhaps a bit of factual detail helps clarify the matter.  In his subtle but unmistakable condemnation of his mother, Hitler effectively accuses her of impoverishing him by growing ill and dying, thus incurring costs for medical treatment and burial. But according to all his recent biographers, the evidence is clear that this is false. The family pension on which he lived at the time, continued after her death; he appears to have squandered it by acting as a kind of bargain-basement spend-thrift. To be sure, he had little; but what little he had he spent carelessly. Yet poverty, he claims, ‘happened’ to him, and he implies that this was his mother’s fault.

Well, if poverty is such a great teacher, perhaps Hitler owed his mother thanks, and this was his round-about way of expressing it. But the point is, Hitler, however he might be viewed objectively, presents himself as a kind of motherless child – the actual mother failed him; his ‘real’ mother, Dame Care, is simply a figure of speech. He is thus thrown into the arms of Fate, propelling him to his destiny….

And that is why Klara Polzl Hitler, to give her back the name he refuses her, so quickly disappears from view in the autobiographical passages of Mein Kampf. The love mother and son shared was but temporary weakness; its only contribution to his life was its closure. Any further memory of it – tracing possibilities to which he had turned his back – would merely prove annoying.

—–

[1] Adolf Hitler, Mein Kampf (hereafter MK), 1925; Trans. Ralph Manheim, Houghton Mifflin, 1943; p. 18.

[2] MK, p. 19.

[3] MK, p. 20.

[4] MK, p. 21.

[5] Renate Bridenthal, Atina Grossmann, Marion A. Kaplan, When Biology Became Destiny: Women in Weimar and Nazi Germany; Monthly Review Press, 1984.

[6] Walter C. Langer. The Mind of Adolf Hitler: The Secret Wartime Report; Basic Books, 1943.

Language, innovation, history; in philosophy

A blogger writing under the handle Philosopher Eric, recently replied to a comment at Plato’s Footnote ( https://platofootnote.wordpress.com/2016/01/29/platos-weekend-suggestions-4/comment-page-2/#comments ), “(…) my actual theory is that meaning doesn’t just exist as consciousness, but rather as the positive/negative sensations which consciousness presumably produces for a given subject to experience. Thus for a cat in a world without humans, “pain” would be something meaningful to it. While you have no ability to logically assert that this definition of meaning happens to be “wrong (…)” – which, of course happens to be mistaken, as his interlocutor pointed out. (Much of what follows is my own commentary on the discussion.)

The hard fact is that we cannot change the of philosophy (less so of science) willy-nilly simply by thinking matters through and coming up with some Great Idea that will answer everybody’s questions, and set all matters right. Further, the language we have with which to communicate just is as it is; it may be highly specialized in specific fields of discourse; but it is not open to sudden change by sheer will. Innovations in language require time, effort, but most importantly community. Language is a shared practice; if you can’t get others on board to your personal language usage, you might as well keep a journal of your unique and special proclamations – and burn every day’s entry upon completion, because nobody’s ever going to read it besides your self. (As Eric’s interlocutor, Daniel Kaufman, noted, “While you are free to invent a word, argument by stipulation is rarely very persuasive.”)

I see this misstep frequently from people who believe they have discovered The True Philosophy (their own or another’s), and are convinced that if readers don’t get what they are saying, or read it in contextual ways they won’t allow, or expect clarification in commonly understood conversational terms, that there is something wrong with the readers, or with the conventions of normal conversation, or with commonly understood language usage.

Language does not function communicably that way. Language has never functioned that way. Language cannot function that way. Language is a communal system of verbal signification that came before us, prepared us in our youth, and will speak eulogies over our graves.

Of course language changes over time; But this takes concerted responses by groups of people engaged in determined efforts to do so. It may be a collection of academic professionals, it may be an ethnic minority unsatisfied with expected norms, it may be poets or novelists looking for better ways to express themselves – but it’s always a group, it is never an individual, and it is never achieved through a top-down injunction. Esperanto failed, Positivist purification failed, puritanical grammarians have failed – all efforts to ‘clarify’ language from some supposed position of wisdom ‘outside of language’* will inevitably fail. Language just is, in the first instance, what we speak; and what we speak, if it is to communicate, must respect the expectations of our audience. Refusal here leads to isolation, not to superior authority or winning arguments.

As to the question, whether ‘pain’ is ‘meaningful’ to a cat: here the distinction between semiotics and philosophy of language may be useful. If a cat steps on a thorn and thereby reacts in a manner attempting riddance of the invasive object, we can indeed say (semiotically) that its sensations have significance – the sensation signifies the invasion into the body of the foreign material, as immediate response to the thorn as sign of threat, calling forth the ‘ridding’ response.

That doesn’t make it ‘meaningful’ in the semantic sense, since this requires an ability to formulate the experience conceptually for verbal expression.

This also illuminates the issues of whether there is inherent meaning to the universe or to life. The universe is filled with phenomena that can be responded to as signs – but only by living beings, since that is in the nature of life, that it is responsive to the stimuli it encounters as significant to its survival in one way or another.

But if meaning is a function of language, then only an intelligent species capable of language (and humans are the only species we know to be so capable) will be able to ‘make’ or ‘find’ or other wise articulate meaning, for meaning to be understood.

And it has to be understood, by those of like intelligence, in order to be communicated; else-ways we are spinning wheels in isolation. That may make someone feel good about themselves or their ideas; but it won’t effect anyone else’s thought, nor the common language in which these thoughts are communicated.

Bottom line: If one reader doesn’t understand you, that may be his or her problem. If multiple readers do not quite ‘get it’ or read it differently than you intended, then it is best to rethink your writing strategies. Believe me; I been there; I know.

And if you have something truly new to contribute to science or to philosophy, or to some other field of inquiry, find some way to express it within the many streams of discourse that we inherit in our history. Innovation is difficult, but not impossible. The question is whether you can attract others to it in way that is meaningful for them, given that they share the same history.

Or start a religion; but don’t expect others to flock to your church. You may be your only congregation. That might not be a bad thing – you can always save yourself. But others might think it more reasonable to find traditions in which they feel comfortable – and there’s nothing wrong with that either. **

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*There is no ‘outside of language’ for the human animal; hence no position of pure authority from which to adjudicate and purify language usage.

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** It is said that, after his enlightenment, the Buddha met a Hindu yogi on the road, and explained all that he had learned.  The yogi listened patiently;  saying something like, “very well for you,”  he walked away.  The Buddha thus learned that his message was only for those who wanted it.

Justice in the court of rhetoric

The court of rhetoric has two jurisdictions. The first is that of public discourse, and anyone is invited to the jury. The other is that of those trained to rhetorical analysis. That sounds as if the trained critic of rhetoric ought to be considered the ‘Supreme Court” of the whole domain, or at least, one might say, ‘the final court of appeal’. But in fact the matter is the other way around; the public decides what rhetoric is persuasive by their active responses to it – by being persuaded by it. The critic has largely an advisory role. The critic clarifies the claims, discovers the fallacies, weighs the epistemic ground of the rhetoric – the unstated assumptions, the evidence provided for the claims, the implications of tropes and innuendos and their possible consequences.

A number of problems recur in the court of rhetoric, which explains why many people, from fascistic censors to philosophers, mistrust or even hate it. The principle of these, as I have discussed before, is that rhetoric, to be properly judged as successful, is not to be judged on whether its claims are right or wrong; in order to understand rhetoric as rhetoric, the principle determination of successful rhetoric is whether it works or not – whether it persuades its intended audience. So rhetoric arguing for ethically repugnant positions may be considered successful, if in fact it wins over its audience. Nobody’s really happy with that (except the successful rhetorician), but it is true nonetheless – how could it be otherwise? Rhetoric is a tool, not a strict form of communication; its whole reason for existence is getting others to do what one wants – whether voting a certain way, buying a certain product, or simply experiencing certain feelings leading to certain acts or behavioral responses. There is no logic to the statement “I love you,” but its rhetorical value is clear; and lovers have been relying on it for many centuries. What does the statement communicate? Maybe that the utterer loves the audience; but maybe not. That judgment awaits on consequences.

That is another problem for the court of rhetoric: Rhetorical analysis and criticism, like any analysis, is directed towards the past – towards what has been said and what has unfolded as consequence to the success or failure of this. But rhetoric in practice is always directed towards the future – to hoped for events, behaviors, and consequences. That makes it difficult to adjudge a rhetorical usage successful or not until it has actually proved successful (or not). What a critic of rhetoric can achieve, concerning a current rhetoric practice, is determine the strength of its claims, the assumptions it depends on, the nature of its tropes and implications, the possible consequences of accepting these.

Yet this leads to another problem. The court of rhetoric does not have the same standard of judgment as that of logic. Logic judges much like a criminal court – the judgment is supposedly decided as absolute – “beyond a reasonable doubt.” The court of rhetoric, like civil procedure courts, decides on the standard of, “the weight of the evidence.” This is actually a just premise, because claimants before the court of rhetoric have opposing beliefs, not simply opposing interests. It would be unjust to one who actually believes in a position morally repugnant to others to assert that ‘no reasonable person would believe that, therefore they are lying.’ Of course they believe it – humans believe in a lot of objectionable, even repugnant things. They aren’t lying; they believe in what they are saying; the question then is whether their claims are weaker or stronger than counter-claims by those who believe otherwise.

To an absolutist mode of thought, trained in logic, that is really hard to comprehend. Yet the court of rhetoric can not function otherwise without itself committing injustice – otherwise it becomes mere tool to a censor’s agenda.

Yet a strong and well-informed critic of rhetoric ought to be able to demonstrate when ethically questionable rhetorical claims are also weak rhetorical claims, because what is ethically questionable often relies on prior claims that are inadequately supported. Donald Trump’s claim that most Mexican immigrants are involved in criminal behavior, or that American Muslims celebrated the 9/11 attacks, can be easily undercut through reference to statistics in the first instance, or reliable reports by those on scene in the second. So these are weak claims before the court of rhetoric. Yet Trump’s rhetoric resonates with a small percentage of the population riddled with fears of differing ethnic groups and differing religions. This must not only be acknowledged, but addressed. Simply saying that what Trump says is ‘untrue’ or ‘unjust’ misses the complexity of what is going on (and frankly does injustice to his presumed audience). Also, it sets up opponents of Trump with a blind side: First, we lose sight of the appeal he has for his audience, and thus will find it more difficult to understand that audience and find some way to appeal them with a countering rhetoric.  Then, if we think the issue is Trump’s being ‘wrong,’ or simply lying, this may lull us into believing that all we need do is dismiss what he says. But in the public arena, this amounts to ignoring what he says. That means that his potential audience have only what he says to rely on, to feel some comfort in their already held fears and beliefs. That means that Trump’s essentially weak claims will appear stronger to his audience than they actually are. The danger is if Trump’s rhetoric begins persuading a potential audience without adequate response. Then, as has happened all too often in the past, weak rhetorical claims could prove successful.

Which should remind us that the judgments made in the court of rhetoric actually have profound practical consequences. The chief of these is that its determinations contribute to a stronger rhetoric in response to ethically questionable claims. It’s not enough to say that Trump is ‘wrong;’ one has to win over his audience, or at least his potential audience. And that requires a stronger rhetoric than Trump himself deploys, supplementary to any logical or other reasonable arguments we make against what he has to say. (Clinton’s suggestion, that Trump’s remarks on Muslims would be used for recruitment to ISIS, while not strictly true when made, was actually a clever rhetorical move – which since has been somewhat validated.)

As with courts of civil law, and unlike criminal courts or that of logic (which chop between the black-and-white of true-or-false), the court of rhetoric must adjudicate cases on a grey scale. That is because opposing interests are rarely easy to decide between, especially if grounded in beliefs truly held by the opponents; and because rhetoric triggers a host of responses – emotional, social, cultural – that are not reducible to ‘reasonably held’ positions.*

The art of persuasion – its theory, its practice, its criticism – is not about what is wrong or right or true or false, and never about some ‘view from nowhere’ or what some god might want us to be – and certainly not about what world we might prefer to live in. It is about the world as it is, and about people as they are. That understandably frustrates us; but the world is by nature a disappointment.

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*Part of the reason for having a careful study of rhetoric is that it clears some of the ground for further study of human psychology and of social and cultural relationships.