None of us
shines all the time. Mundane pleasantries have their place. Each morning, walking
across campus to my office in the dark, I greet custodians, faculty, students,
strangers. That represents a minimal gesture of courtesy and respect. Civility can soothe
an unhappy sensibility or at least not exacerbate the unhappiness. I enjoy the
small opportunities for wit presented to us throughout the day. What a pleasure
to make another person laugh, if only politely. Some days what I remember best since
waking that morning is someone’s wisecrack, joke or pun, cherished all the more
because utterly gratuitous.
True
conversations, the rich, stimulating sort, are rarer. Michael Oakeshott puts it
like this in “The Voice of Poetry in the Conversation of Mankind” (Rationalism
in Politics and Other Essays, 1962): “Conversation is not an enterprise
designed to yield an extrinsic profit, a contest where a winner gets a prize,
nor is it an activity of exegesis; it is an unrehearsed intellectual adventure.
It is with conversation as with gambling, its significance lies neither in
winning nor in losing, but in wagering.” In other words, conversation is more
like dance than debate. It works best when one’s partner is limber, energetic
and conversant with all the moves. In an interview I discovered on Monday, the
late Sir Roger Scruton says:
“Self-expression
is fine if you’ve got an interesting self to express. But what makes a self
interesting is precisely that it’s gone through a rigorous process of
discipline and order and self-understanding of a kind that, for instance,
Milton went through. Self-expression that hasn't done that is just
embarrassing.”
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