Abstract: Intellectual humility involves acknowledging one’s position as one among many, and one’s limitations and fallibility as a perceiver and knower. On controversial matters, the intellectually humble person would, it seems, be disinclined to treat her own beliefs about those matters as more likely to be correct than the beliefs of her epistemic peers. But then it would seem that an intellectually humble person would be disinclined to have strong convictions about controversial moral matters—controversial in the sense that epistemic peers are inclined to hold different and conflicting positions about those issues. I suggest that things are not as they seem, and that a person can maintain intellectual humility even while holding to those convictions with which she most deeply identifies and to which she is strongly committed.Comments appreciated, as always. (Thanks to the EKU College of Arts and Sciences for giving me money this summer to work on this.)
Showing posts with label Disagreement. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Disagreement. Show all posts
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Humility & Moral Disagreement
Here's a little something I've been working on, a mashup of (something like) "virtue ethics" and epistemology of disagreement, as it were. I guess that's what some people mean by "virtue epistemology":
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Humility & Disagreement
At first glance, it might seem that being intellectually humble is at odds with having strong convictions on matters of controversy. (Here I will focus on the messy moral cases.) This is because (a) we might assume that at least some of the people with whom we disagree are, in some sense, our "epistemic peers" (that they share familiarity with the ins and outs, arguments, etc., bearing on the issue, and are just as reasonable, thoughtful, etc., as we are) and (b) an intellectually humble person will appreciate that the features that make those others one's epistemic peer imply that one is one among many, and that there is no prima facie reason to suppose oneself more likely to be right about the controversial issue. (For those familiar with the literature on the epistemology of disagreement, it might seem that intellectual humility favors adopting the Equal Weight View, which says that we should "split the difference" in cases of disagreement and move in the direction of agnosticism.)
The difficulty with this is that we may find ourselves strongly convinced of, and practically committed to, some controversial moral view because we still find the considerations in favor of that view the best. Is remaining unmoved irrational, or unreasonable? One way to avoid this is to conclude that those who disagree are not after all my epistemic peers. (Tom Kelly criticizes the Equal Weight View for making it too hard to ever arrive reasonably at this judgment once I've initially judged that a person is my peer. [Warning: it's a long paper!]) In a lot of cases, this might seem like a cheap move (though it's one, as Kelly notes, that Elga (above) seems to make, too, in explaining why the Equal Weight View doesn't have radical agnostic consequences in the non-ideal real world.)
Moral cases are particularly tricky because practical considerations are intertwined with "pure" epistemic (or theoretical) considerations, and as Catherine Elgin notes (in her essay in the disagreement volume linked above) that it may not be psychologically possible at any rate just to abandon (an especially deeply held) belief. I'm working on a line of thought that suggests a rough distinction between intellectual and practical contexts, and suggests that to be intellectually humble about our convictions, we have to moderate our acceptance of those convictions in contexts where the issue is up for (say, philosophical) discussion and debate. We can't just (obnoxiously) beg the question. Practically, we have strong reasons for accepting the view as a personal policy (in our own moral decision-making, etc.), since it is, after all, our conviction. (It's being our own doesn't give it special epistemic weight, but just special practical weight.) (By "acceptance" here, I mean it in the sense articulated by L. Jonathan Cohen, who says that to accept p is to take it as a premise in argument, deliberation, etc.) So, humility requires something like not brow-beating those who disagree with us, or being merely dogmatic. We have to try to discuss the issue as if it is open (even if we think it is not), for multiple reasons (both to attempt to persuade others and, I think, to show due respect for their not-yet-rejected status as peers).
But there can be cases where even this seems too demanding (or somehow alienating). A person's convictions might involve the thought that the alternative view is pretty bad, and that although there is a controversy about the issue, one thinks this itself shows something pretty bad, say, about the state of society. Perhaps, e.g., along the lines of what Gaita says about those who think that torture ought to be "undiscussable." Maybe if it turns out that there's just no arguing with the other side--or as Cavell says, "no hope of agreement"--then one is warranted in rejecting that those others are epistemic (or moral) peers. (And you go engage in activism and rhetoric and so forth, rather than argument of a more rational form.)
Something else that I think can be said here is that humility doesn't require moderating one's belief (or acceptance) in those cases where the opposing view is itself a product of a failure of humility (in the broader, moral sense). Take those who have struggled against various forms of oppression, racism, sexism, etc. Where they have good reason for thinking that those who disagree are motivated by a sense of moral superiority, then their views are themselves (I suggest) incompatible with humility, ruled out as immoral by it. One needn't humbly "split the difference" with those who are motivated (intentionally or not) by a kind of arrogance, self-righteousness, etc.
There's more to say, I think, but that's where I'm at. (The rest of the puzzle has to do with the cases where our convictions call for practical action that's directed at those with whom we disagree, and what we might say about that from the perspective of humility.)
The difficulty with this is that we may find ourselves strongly convinced of, and practically committed to, some controversial moral view because we still find the considerations in favor of that view the best. Is remaining unmoved irrational, or unreasonable? One way to avoid this is to conclude that those who disagree are not after all my epistemic peers. (Tom Kelly criticizes the Equal Weight View for making it too hard to ever arrive reasonably at this judgment once I've initially judged that a person is my peer. [Warning: it's a long paper!]) In a lot of cases, this might seem like a cheap move (though it's one, as Kelly notes, that Elga (above) seems to make, too, in explaining why the Equal Weight View doesn't have radical agnostic consequences in the non-ideal real world.)
Moral cases are particularly tricky because practical considerations are intertwined with "pure" epistemic (or theoretical) considerations, and as Catherine Elgin notes (in her essay in the disagreement volume linked above) that it may not be psychologically possible at any rate just to abandon (an especially deeply held) belief. I'm working on a line of thought that suggests a rough distinction between intellectual and practical contexts, and suggests that to be intellectually humble about our convictions, we have to moderate our acceptance of those convictions in contexts where the issue is up for (say, philosophical) discussion and debate. We can't just (obnoxiously) beg the question. Practically, we have strong reasons for accepting the view as a personal policy (in our own moral decision-making, etc.), since it is, after all, our conviction. (It's being our own doesn't give it special epistemic weight, but just special practical weight.) (By "acceptance" here, I mean it in the sense articulated by L. Jonathan Cohen, who says that to accept p is to take it as a premise in argument, deliberation, etc.) So, humility requires something like not brow-beating those who disagree with us, or being merely dogmatic. We have to try to discuss the issue as if it is open (even if we think it is not), for multiple reasons (both to attempt to persuade others and, I think, to show due respect for their not-yet-rejected status as peers).
But there can be cases where even this seems too demanding (or somehow alienating). A person's convictions might involve the thought that the alternative view is pretty bad, and that although there is a controversy about the issue, one thinks this itself shows something pretty bad, say, about the state of society. Perhaps, e.g., along the lines of what Gaita says about those who think that torture ought to be "undiscussable." Maybe if it turns out that there's just no arguing with the other side--or as Cavell says, "no hope of agreement"--then one is warranted in rejecting that those others are epistemic (or moral) peers. (And you go engage in activism and rhetoric and so forth, rather than argument of a more rational form.)
Something else that I think can be said here is that humility doesn't require moderating one's belief (or acceptance) in those cases where the opposing view is itself a product of a failure of humility (in the broader, moral sense). Take those who have struggled against various forms of oppression, racism, sexism, etc. Where they have good reason for thinking that those who disagree are motivated by a sense of moral superiority, then their views are themselves (I suggest) incompatible with humility, ruled out as immoral by it. One needn't humbly "split the difference" with those who are motivated (intentionally or not) by a kind of arrogance, self-righteousness, etc.
There's more to say, I think, but that's where I'm at. (The rest of the puzzle has to do with the cases where our convictions call for practical action that's directed at those with whom we disagree, and what we might say about that from the perspective of humility.)
Friday, April 22, 2011
Hot Off the Press: Communities of Justice
I'm happy to announce the publication of the latest Philosophy of Peace volume, Communities of Justice: Confronting Injustice and Creating Justice, edited by Danielle Poe (U Dayton), in which my essay, "Moral Conviction and Disagreement" appears. I heard some of these papers at the 2009 Concerned Philosophers for Peace conference in Dayton, and Arnold Farr's paper was my first encounter with the lovely line by Adorno, "Wrong life cannot be lived rightly."
Saturday, January 22, 2011
Where Is the High Road?
This sort of stuff can be infuriating. Importantly, I imagine that it's infuriating to folks on both sides of the political lines. Rhetoric tends, perhaps by its very nature, to certain kinds of excess and "flourish," and in the current context, I'm certainly alarmed by what appears to be a growing class of political terrorists in the U.S.--that is, people who believe that killing those with whom they politically disagree (or even discussing it or encouraging it or joking about it) is an acceptable course of action. (At the same time, I realize that a vast majority of people see through this; but a terrorist class does not have to be large to be a problem.) This seems particularly problematic in the context of what is supposed to be a (deliberative) democracy. It belies a terrible ignorance of history and the humanities--Plato's Apology for a start, and Socrates' warning that killing him would not accomplish very much--which reflects something deeply amiss in the American social fabric.
But what I've really been pondering is the question: what is the right response to violent rhetoric and political violence? There seem to be a few options:
1. Find a scapegoat: Blame Glenn Beck and Sarah Palin. Which is roughly what's happening, and I can't see this achieving much, except infuriating everyone over and over.
2. Give a warm-hearted, earnest speech: Talk about bipartisanship and working together and tolerance and the point that violence simply can't be the right way to resolve political disagreements in a (supposedly) civil and democratic society. The sort of speech Obama would deliver with typical eloquence. Edifying, but yawn.
3. Fight fire with fire: Buy guns and create counter-balancing violent factions, i.e. in this context, well-armed lefties. Let Obama (and Peolosi, etc.) start carrying unconcealed handguns. Incompatible with #2.
4. Embrace the One's Targethood: Tell the violent rhetoric-mongers and the actual terrorists, "Bring it on." This probably sounds childish, but honestly, I don't think anything else could have any significant chance of speaking to the people who feel so disenfranchised by the society that they need to resort to the language of violence or to violent action. It would also get the attention of the yawning majority in a way that #2 alone can't. So, take away the thing the violent are trying to have for themselves: the status of a sacrificial lamb. Don't blame them (or their alleged order-barkers), don't ask them for a tolerant hug (since that's not what they want): acknowledge this desire and will to advocate and do violence, acknowledge one's vulnerability to it, and one's willingness to be killed if it must come to that. This is hard. (Seriously: it's very easy to talk about dying for one's beliefs and another thing to face that prospect in all seriousness unless you are a very marginalized person without anyone who loves you.) And this is a non-ideal solution, for a non-ideal situation. In an ideal situation, no one has to be in a position where they must be willing to die for what they believe. I don't think that "bring it on" is exactly the right phrasing, although there is a sense in which this is what Socrates was up to in the Apology. And there are worse examples by which to live.
5. Play Deaf: Just ignore the rhetoric; acknowledge the violence that happens, condemn it, and those who would support such acts, and move on. This is what I try to do because otherwise I'll go crazy. But it's not obviously the right response for those who are more directly engaged in political activity. Perhaps merely "vowing to fight on"--insofar as this is a distinct response from #2 (or #4) fits here.
In any event, I think it would be great to hear Obama and others to acknowledge in a more unnerving and less abstract way that some people think that that political rivals should be killed, to openly acknowledge themselves as those rivals, and in this and other ways to personalize themselves as the targets of this violent rhetoric and, in some cases, action. (Maybe they have, and given my relative inattention, I've missed it.) Violence is easier when the enemy isn't a real, concrete person.
But what I've really been pondering is the question: what is the right response to violent rhetoric and political violence? There seem to be a few options:
1. Find a scapegoat: Blame Glenn Beck and Sarah Palin. Which is roughly what's happening, and I can't see this achieving much, except infuriating everyone over and over.
2. Give a warm-hearted, earnest speech: Talk about bipartisanship and working together and tolerance and the point that violence simply can't be the right way to resolve political disagreements in a (supposedly) civil and democratic society. The sort of speech Obama would deliver with typical eloquence. Edifying, but yawn.
3. Fight fire with fire: Buy guns and create counter-balancing violent factions, i.e. in this context, well-armed lefties. Let Obama (and Peolosi, etc.) start carrying unconcealed handguns. Incompatible with #2.
4. Embrace the One's Targethood: Tell the violent rhetoric-mongers and the actual terrorists, "Bring it on." This probably sounds childish, but honestly, I don't think anything else could have any significant chance of speaking to the people who feel so disenfranchised by the society that they need to resort to the language of violence or to violent action. It would also get the attention of the yawning majority in a way that #2 alone can't. So, take away the thing the violent are trying to have for themselves: the status of a sacrificial lamb. Don't blame them (or their alleged order-barkers), don't ask them for a tolerant hug (since that's not what they want): acknowledge this desire and will to advocate and do violence, acknowledge one's vulnerability to it, and one's willingness to be killed if it must come to that. This is hard. (Seriously: it's very easy to talk about dying for one's beliefs and another thing to face that prospect in all seriousness unless you are a very marginalized person without anyone who loves you.) And this is a non-ideal solution, for a non-ideal situation. In an ideal situation, no one has to be in a position where they must be willing to die for what they believe. I don't think that "bring it on" is exactly the right phrasing, although there is a sense in which this is what Socrates was up to in the Apology. And there are worse examples by which to live.
5. Play Deaf: Just ignore the rhetoric; acknowledge the violence that happens, condemn it, and those who would support such acts, and move on. This is what I try to do because otherwise I'll go crazy. But it's not obviously the right response for those who are more directly engaged in political activity. Perhaps merely "vowing to fight on"--insofar as this is a distinct response from #2 (or #4) fits here.
In any event, I think it would be great to hear Obama and others to acknowledge in a more unnerving and less abstract way that some people think that that political rivals should be killed, to openly acknowledge themselves as those rivals, and in this and other ways to personalize themselves as the targets of this violent rhetoric and, in some cases, action. (Maybe they have, and given my relative inattention, I've missed it.) Violence is easier when the enemy isn't a real, concrete person.
Tuesday, May 04, 2010
The Difficulty of Experience
I've just posted a draft of a paper I've been working on for awhile. Here it is. And here's a description:
Some things are hard to put into words, including profound experiences that inform our way of judging the world. This paper explores the intersection of the problem of putting such experiences into words and the problem that some disagreements hinge on unshared experiences. I suggest that two ways of dealing with these difficulties--which I call mysticism and extreme anti-mysticism--are both false. I consider in detail examples involving Wittgenstein's "wondering at the existence of the whole world", J.M. Coetzee's character Elizabeth Costello and her horror at the treatment of animals, and a correspondence between Freud and Romain Rolland about the "oceanic feeling." Often, what we need is not simply to put our experience into words but rather to find a way to give the other a similar experience.Comments will be greatly appreciated.
Wednesday, February 03, 2010
More Understanding without Agreement
I've recently expanded (and hopefully improved) the paper I've been calling "Understanding Without Agreement". You'll notice that the paper actually questions how to make sense of the thought that we can understand people without agreeing with them, at least on certain issues of moral judgment.
In this newest version, I've added a couple examples, treated in some length, to help illustrate the difficulties in grasping other perspectives--at least, that our disagreement might reasonably lead one who has that perspective to say, "Well, you haven't really understood." (One example involves Elizabeth Costello of J.M. Coetzee's "The Lives of Animals", later included in the novel Elizabeth Costello. The other has to do with Amish forgiveness, as exemplified a few years ago in the Nickel Mines shootings.)
Comments here or by e-mail will be greatly appreciated!
In this newest version, I've added a couple examples, treated in some length, to help illustrate the difficulties in grasping other perspectives--at least, that our disagreement might reasonably lead one who has that perspective to say, "Well, you haven't really understood." (One example involves Elizabeth Costello of J.M. Coetzee's "The Lives of Animals", later included in the novel Elizabeth Costello. The other has to do with Amish forgiveness, as exemplified a few years ago in the Nickel Mines shootings.)
Comments here or by e-mail will be greatly appreciated!
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Understanding without Agreement
[Update: The second and third links in the text below now take you to a newer version of this paper.]
I've been thinking about the relationship between understanding and agreement, specifically, about whether there are cases where we can't really be said to understand a person with whom we disagree.
I've been drafting a short paper about this, and would appreciate any comments. It's a bit compressed, but I'm hoping, if the project seems on the right track, to try to submit it to a conference or two in the spring.
Here's a short abstract:
When two people disagree about a matter of judgment (say, about a moral issue), the disagreement will often be explained in terms of psychological differences. This leaves it open that one party to the disagreement could understand the other without agreeing with her. This paper explores the thesis that there are cases in which understanding and agreement do not come apart because psychological explanation is not always an adequate way of explaining the disagreement. That is, sometimes it may be that we cannot claim to understand a person unless we have also come to agree with her.
Again, the paper is here.
I've been thinking about the relationship between understanding and agreement, specifically, about whether there are cases where we can't really be said to understand a person with whom we disagree.
I've been drafting a short paper about this, and would appreciate any comments. It's a bit compressed, but I'm hoping, if the project seems on the right track, to try to submit it to a conference or two in the spring.
Here's a short abstract:
When two people disagree about a matter of judgment (say, about a moral issue), the disagreement will often be explained in terms of psychological differences. This leaves it open that one party to the disagreement could understand the other without agreeing with her. This paper explores the thesis that there are cases in which understanding and agreement do not come apart because psychological explanation is not always an adequate way of explaining the disagreement. That is, sometimes it may be that we cannot claim to understand a person unless we have also come to agree with her.
Again, the paper is here.
Monday, November 02, 2009
Understanding and (Dis)Agreement
Here's a vignette I've been thinking about:
I'm working on the subtleties of this, but I'm curious what others think.
Pete and Vera, good friends, are having a discussion about the ethics of eating other animals. Pete eats meat, but is somewhat troubled by the arguments for vegetarianism that he has encountered. He wonders whether he has been missing something. Vera, a vegetarian, discusses the several arguments with Pete late into the night, and draws his attention, in particular, to the line of argument that she herself has found to be the decisive one. As morning draws near, Pete remarks, “I understand what you’re getting at with this argument and why you accept it, but I simply don’t see things that way.”I think people sometimes respond to disagreement as Vera has here, and I'm wondering what such a comment as hers amounts to. Does it imply that Pete could only come to understand her if he came to agree with her? (Or, that his understanding just would involve his agreeing with her?) And if that's a plausible interpretation of what she says, does her remark make sense? Can't we understand other people without agreeing with them?
Vera responds, “Then you don’t at all understand me.”
I'm working on the subtleties of this, but I'm curious what others think.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Moral Conviction and Disagreement: Getting Beyond Negative Toleration
Here it is.
ABSTRACT: Toleration seems essential for peace in any sufficiently diverse society. At the same time, no one thinks that we should (or can) tolerate everything. That there are limits to what is tolerable gives rise to a difficult puzzle to be resolved by any society in which some of the differences between individuals or groups are, or seem to be, differences in their moral convictions. Toleration of beliefs and practices that conflict with one’s moral convictions seems problematic: how can it be compatible with living in accordance with one’s convictions that one tolerate things that one judges to be morally intolerable? This apparent conflict can be resolved by showing that tolerant engagement is compatible with moral integrity, and is furthermore an appropriate relationship to cultivate with those with whom one has moral disagreements, given other basic values (of persons and of humility). Tolerant engagement can take the form of discourse, compromise, and integration. None of these activities guarantees the resolution of moral disagreements, but they provide a better starting point than more adversarial relations (such as what I call “civil intolerance”) because they encourage the development of a community moral judges rather than, as it were, a community of moral strangers.
Comments are welcome.
ABSTRACT: Toleration seems essential for peace in any sufficiently diverse society. At the same time, no one thinks that we should (or can) tolerate everything. That there are limits to what is tolerable gives rise to a difficult puzzle to be resolved by any society in which some of the differences between individuals or groups are, or seem to be, differences in their moral convictions. Toleration of beliefs and practices that conflict with one’s moral convictions seems problematic: how can it be compatible with living in accordance with one’s convictions that one tolerate things that one judges to be morally intolerable? This apparent conflict can be resolved by showing that tolerant engagement is compatible with moral integrity, and is furthermore an appropriate relationship to cultivate with those with whom one has moral disagreements, given other basic values (of persons and of humility). Tolerant engagement can take the form of discourse, compromise, and integration. None of these activities guarantees the resolution of moral disagreements, but they provide a better starting point than more adversarial relations (such as what I call “civil intolerance”) because they encourage the development of a community moral judges rather than, as it were, a community of moral strangers.
Comments are welcome.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
The Paradox of Conviction
Here's a puzzle I've been thinking about (with qualifiers, especially about the rife usage of the term reasonable below):
1. Most of us are, more or less, reasonable.
2. Most of us have some convictions about controversial issues (and reasonable people have conflicting convictions; hence, the controversy).
3. When our beliefs conflict with the beliefs of other (equally) reasonable people we should weaken our confidence in our own belief (tantamount to withdrawing our conviction, possibly adopting an agnostic stance on the issue).
4. Thus, it would seem that reasonable people should not have convictions (about controversial issues).
5. But reasonable people do have such convictions.
6. Thus, reasonable people are not reasonable!
Qualifiers:
A. By reasonable, I mean susceptible to evidence, disinclined to take radical skepticism seriously (or a pragmatic reason for disbelief), not inclined to the preposterous view that we are infallible (or even less fallible than our peers), etc.
B. I limit "controversial issues" to disagreements between reasonable persons. So, whether the Holocaust occurred is not a controversial issue.
Thoughts:
- Maybe 1 is false? Let's hope not! (If we aren't, to some degree, reasonable, how will we get out of this mess?)
- I'm inclined to think there is something wrong with 3, even though it looks...reasonable. But denying 3 seems tricky. One possibility is that not all reasonable people are "epistemic peers"--that is, our background beliefs might be sufficiently different to give us each independent justification for holding the particular convictions we have. Nevertheless, if I have to assume that your background beliefs are just as prima facie reasonable as mine, then when confronted with a genuine, persisting controversy, I seem to have some reason to weaken my belief.
The puzzle, in part, has to do with a way I'm proposing we understand the notion of a conviction: we have convictions precisely about those things that are controversial in the sense above. If an issue is not controversial, then it does not, on my account, count as a "matter of conviction." (It's not my conviction that the Holocaust occurred, or that slavery is wrong...but I do, of course, believe these things and am completely convinced of them.) (NB: Convictions in my sense are not "blind": the person of conviction has reasons for her beliefs.)
So the puzzle is that it looks like it is never reasonable to have convictions on the very issues on which it is possible to believe with conviction (i.e. controversial issues). So, either we're not being reasonable in having convictions or, roughly, 3 above must go. (Or maybe my working account of conviction is the trouble-maker here?) To be continued...
1. Most of us are, more or less, reasonable.
2. Most of us have some convictions about controversial issues (and reasonable people have conflicting convictions; hence, the controversy).
3. When our beliefs conflict with the beliefs of other (equally) reasonable people we should weaken our confidence in our own belief (tantamount to withdrawing our conviction, possibly adopting an agnostic stance on the issue).
4. Thus, it would seem that reasonable people should not have convictions (about controversial issues).
5. But reasonable people do have such convictions.
6. Thus, reasonable people are not reasonable!
Qualifiers:
A. By reasonable, I mean susceptible to evidence, disinclined to take radical skepticism seriously (or a pragmatic reason for disbelief), not inclined to the preposterous view that we are infallible (or even less fallible than our peers), etc.
B. I limit "controversial issues" to disagreements between reasonable persons. So, whether the Holocaust occurred is not a controversial issue.
Thoughts:
- Maybe 1 is false? Let's hope not! (If we aren't, to some degree, reasonable, how will we get out of this mess?)
- I'm inclined to think there is something wrong with 3, even though it looks...reasonable. But denying 3 seems tricky. One possibility is that not all reasonable people are "epistemic peers"--that is, our background beliefs might be sufficiently different to give us each independent justification for holding the particular convictions we have. Nevertheless, if I have to assume that your background beliefs are just as prima facie reasonable as mine, then when confronted with a genuine, persisting controversy, I seem to have some reason to weaken my belief.
The puzzle, in part, has to do with a way I'm proposing we understand the notion of a conviction: we have convictions precisely about those things that are controversial in the sense above. If an issue is not controversial, then it does not, on my account, count as a "matter of conviction." (It's not my conviction that the Holocaust occurred, or that slavery is wrong...but I do, of course, believe these things and am completely convinced of them.) (NB: Convictions in my sense are not "blind": the person of conviction has reasons for her beliefs.)
So the puzzle is that it looks like it is never reasonable to have convictions on the very issues on which it is possible to believe with conviction (i.e. controversial issues). So, either we're not being reasonable in having convictions or, roughly, 3 above must go. (Or maybe my working account of conviction is the trouble-maker here?) To be continued...
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