In fewer than 350 pages, Mortimer Adler and Charles
Van Doren will more than likely transform the way you read and argue—for the
better.
The most
useful book you could read in 2018 isn’t about contemporary politics, or
socio-cultural trends, or even about God. It’s not on the New York Times best-seller
list — as far as I can tell, it has never been on the
best-seller list. It wasn’t written by one of those famous names of Western
civilization, someone you might recognize from some high-school or college
English class.
For anyone
interested in improving his ability to read and debate, Mortimer J. Adler and
Charles Van Doren’s “How to Read a Book,” originally published in 1940 solely
under Adler’s name, is the surest, most faithful guide. You can get it on numerous online stores for
less than $10, making it one of the most affordable long-term investments on
the market. Here’s why: in less than 350 pages, Adler and Van Doren (hereafter
just Adler, since he was the original author) will more than likely transform
the way you read and argue.
Adler played a significant role in influencing American education
in the twentieth century. A Jewish convert to Episcopalianism, Adler was a
prominent philosopher and educational theorist who sought to preserve and
promote classical Western knowledge, to include an identifiable Western canon
of literature, for future generations. His “How to Read a Book,” one of many
texts he authored, is a “guide to intelligent reading” that has much to teach
us in these contentious times.
For this
last article in my January series, I’ll
highlight a few dominant lessons in Adler’s book, ones applicable not only for
reading books, but any publication, to include any article on The Federalist!
Incorporating Adler’s suggestions will make you only a better reader, but a
better debater, too.
We Need
to Learn to Suspend Judgment
The progression of online communication to the fore of human
interaction, particularly via social media, has significantly altered the way
we engage with other humans. It has in many respects reinforced our desire to
“shoot from the hip” when debating. Frequently, we read a headline, a topic
sentence, or a paragraph, and make up our minds about an article’s argument.
Have we actually taken the necessary time and energy to comprehend what we are
reading?
This is why one of Adler’s rules of reading is: “You must be able
to say, with reasonable certainty, ‘I understand,’ before you an say any one of
the following things: ‘I agree,’ or ‘I disagree,’ or ‘I suspend judgment.’”
As readers
(or listeners), we must be able to accurately state the position of those we
are reading or listening, before we challenge them. If we encounter difficulty
repeating our interlocutor’s arguments in our own words(i.e. not theirs),
then it’s likely we don’t understand them. If we don’t understand those we are
debating, how can we possibly have a useful conversation with them?
Yet, Adler observes, based on his own experiences in the
classroom: “Students who plainly do not know what the author is saying seem to
have no hesitation in setting themselves up as his judges. They not only
disagree with something they do not understand but, what is equally bad, they
also often agree to a position they cannot express intelligibly in their own
words.”
Adler adds that “failure to understand is usually the reader’s
fault.” When we do express our misunderstanding, we should be careful with our
tone. Rather than implying the author or speaker failed to communicate
effectively, one should concede the possibility that we simply haven’t
comprehended. Tone, whether in spoken or written word, often gives away another
frequent fault when we read or debate: contentiousness.
Can the
Contentiousness
The more I read the comments in online articles (or watch talking
heads on evening debate programs), the more I’m convinced many Americans have a
growing addiction to being contentious. This habit is dangerous not only for
own intellectual health, but the health of civic society. The most important
reason why is because it suggests we are more concerned with victory than
truth.
Adler writes, “When you disagree, do so reasonably, and not
disputatiously or contentiously. There is no point in winning an argument if
you know or suspect you are wrong. Practically, of course, it may get you ahead
in the world for a short time. But honesty is the better policy in the slightly
longer run.”
I would add that circumstances are probably rare when we are
absolutely certain we are right. As finite human beings, we are very likely to
make mistakes, poor judgments, or bad arguments. Cultivating the humility to
consider our own failings is usually the first step in growing as persons and
citizens.
Adler continues: “Most people think that winning the argument is
what matters, not learning the truth. He who regards conversation as a battle
can win only by being an antagonist, only by disagreeing successfully, whether
he is right or wrong.”
Yet consider so many of the evening news programs, whether on the
Right or the Left. How often do the hosts acknowledge they were wrong on some
topic? How much more often do they gleefully advertise their own rhetorical
skills and sagacity, while depicting their opponents, by default, as stupid, if
not intentionally immoral? The war of words in our civic discourse seems to
imply a far deeper cultural malady: a nihilistic doubt about the potential to
resolve disagreements.
The Need
to Hope for Resolution
Adler was indeed frustrated by the substance and tenor of public
discourse — in the 1950s! Yet despite this cynicism, he believed we could
indeed improve ourselves, and even resolve the most contentious of disputes.
He writes,
“another condition prior to the undertaking of criticism… recommends that you
regard disagreements as capable of being resolved…. One is hopeless about the
fruitfulness of discussion if he does not recognize that all rational men can
agree. Note that we said ‘can agree.’ We did not say all rational men do agree.”
Sometimes we disagree because of what Adler terms “passion and
prejudice.” The cure there is simply to diminish the role of those influences
in reading or debating. Other times we disagree because one party is ignorant
of the truth. Of course, telling one’s interlocutor he or she is stupid is
unlikely to achieve the desired effect. As the popular cartoon caption from a
few years back reads: “I can’t come to bed, honey. Someone on the Internet is
wrong!”
Charity and long-suffering are the virtues required in such
scenarios. Name-calling and personal attacks demonstrate we aren’t really
interested in authentic debate, and are wasting our time, as well as that of
everyone else. If you really think your intellectual sparring partner is that
dumb, why argue with him? Would you discourse on the existence of God with your
dog? Would you debate tax policy with a two-year-old? If you think your
opponent that intellectually incapable, there should be no point in writing or
saying anything.
Fatigue can set in when we make little progress in convincing
another party of his error, which is often when we succumb to just declaring
“Well, that’s your opinion,” as if resolving debates truly is a chimera. Yet if
we surrender to this kind of thinking, we have abandoned the very foundations
of our political system, which presuppose that man’s mind, given sufficient
evidence and sound argumentation, can be changed.
Moreover, our own history has demonstrated time and again that
American society is capable of being persuaded to change its opinion — of
racial equality, of women’s right to vote, of the possibility of
non-Protestants to make positive contributions to the American experiment. It’s
in our blood to debate, but it’s just as much human to persuade and be
persuaded.
Let Adler
Be Your Guide
This article has barely scratched the surface of the wisdom found
within “How to Read a Book.” It is truly a goldmine of valuable insights into
the art of reading and debate. We should do ourselves a favor this year: for
every minute normally spent writing or reading comboxes, we should pick up
Adler’s decades-old gem, and revolutionize the way we read.
Then we can more likely avoid one of the dilemmas Adler addresses
early in his book: “the ignorance of those who have misread many books.” Such
people, Adler argues, “are, as Alexander Pope rightly calls them, bookful
blockheads, ignorantly read. There have always been literate ignoramuses who
have read too widely and not well.”
Let’s make 2018 the year we stopped being blockheads.
Casey Chalk
is a graduate student at the Notre Dame Graduate School of Theology at
Christendom College.
