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Volume 15 Number
4
Responding to "Student Relativism"
James Rhem,
Executive Editor
Philosophy
may rightly boast the oldest "scholarship of teaching and learning" of any field
of study. Since at least the time of Socrates, philosophers have examined how we
know, how we learn, and how we frame and solve problems. In the last several
decades teachers of philosophy have returned with some frequency to the
pedagogical problem of "student relativism" seen most often in statements such
as "That
might be true for you, but not for me," or "Who's to say what's right
or wrong?" FORUM readers familiar with William Perry's work on students'
intellectual development know student relativism as "level" or "position four"
Late Multiplicity, or "everyone has a right to his own opinion."
Working with students caught in this frame of mind can be frustrating. Moreover,
the very ideas of democracy and tolerance may seem to encourage a relativistic
posture, and in a sinister way, so can a shallow understanding of collaborative
learning, where "community" and "consensus" become the source of truth-making
authority. These influences, combined with youthful idealism and energy, can
pose a daunting challenge for teachers in most any discipline. Indeed, student
relativism actually poses a variety of challenges, since it represents
students' confrontation with ambiguity, and responses to ambiguity vary widely.
Some students drop out of college altogether. Others retreat from fields like
literature and philosophy to major in math or science where concrete answers
seem easier to come by. Still others simply come to see critical thinking and
logic not as reliable tools of inquiry or paths to deeper understanding, but as
mere academic parlor games. As Gerald Erion writes in his overview of
philosophy's pedagogical responses to the problem ("Engaging Student
Relativism," Discourse: Learning and Teaching in Philosophical and Religious
Studies, V5N1, Autumn, 2005), "their work takes on a distressing
character aimed at simply learning the rules of the game, not at using these
rules to advance their own understanding."
Erion, who also presented research on this topic at the October 2005
International Society for the Scholarship of Teaching and Learning meeting in
Vancouver, first became aware of it as a pedagogical problem while a graduate
student teaching his first course in critical thinking. "There was quite a bit
of logic in the course, and many students were learning to ‘play the game,' but
not applying their logic skills in their actual thinking," he recalls. How did
he handle his first encounters with student relativism as a beginning teacher?
"Probably not all that well," he admits, though many might envy the approach he
was able to take: because the class was relatively small, Erion was able to talk
to students individually about their relativistic postures, employing what he
now calls the "traditional approach."
The Traditional
Approach
The traditional approach to confronting student relativism in philosophy classes
lies in framing the response as a philosophical one and then rebutting it as if
it were a genuine philosophical position. The approach begins by presenting or
eliciting the claim, articulating it precisely, then analyzing it, and finally
criticizing it with classic counter arguments. Students who take a
relativistic position quickly see that, if relativism is true, then statements
such as 2+2=4 and "The earth moves around the sun" are not objectively
true. Indeed, within the context of philosophy courses, assertions such as "all
truth is relative" ca n quickly demonstrate their own inadequacy. As Theodore
Schick and Lewis Vaughn write in their useful text How To Think About Weird
Things: "If the proposition ‘All truth is relative' is an objective truth,
it refutes itself because it serves as its own counter example. So if the
statement ‘All truth is relative' is objectively true, it's objectively false."
Unfortunately, however tidy relativism may appear as a philosophical problem, it
proves much stickier as a teaching challenge, as Erion has come to realize as a
more experienced teacher. "The overall design of our philosophy courses may . .
. inadvertently encourage student relativism," he writes. "For instance,
students who are forced to march through a series of radically opposed positions
on fundamental philosophical issues without pausing to consider the implications
of this sort of disagreement may see no hope for intellectual reconciliation
but relativism."
Suit of Armor
Erion's investigation of the problem of student relativism as a knotty teaching
problem led him to a valuable review of what other teachers of philosophy have
had to say about it. For instance, in a somewhat surly article in 1986, Stephen
Satris argues that student relativism is not a philosophical position at all,
but rather "a method of protection, a suit of armor" that students invoke as a
means of avoiding critical engagement, especially when doing so might challenge
the student's personal (albeit unexamined) beliefs. Despite his obvious
irritation at having to deal with student relativism, a seasoned teacher's
compassion emerges as Satris moves toward suggesting means of removing student
armor.
In general, Satris promotes an approach that puts how we examine questions at
the center of the discussion rather than the presumption of coming to right or
wrong answers. One approach offered five years earlier by fellow philosopher
Michael Goldman begins by having students address the question of why relativism
is such a pervasive feature in contemporary American culture. In this approach,
writes Satris "the tables are cleverly turned: [student relativism] cannot so
effectively be used as a conversation stopper when the conversation is precisely
about [student relativism]." But Satris cites this suggestion in passing before
moving on to Goldman's primary suggestion and his improvement on it.
Advocacy
"The best pedagogical device against student relativism," says Goldman, is a
method he calls advocacy. Basically, Goldman suggests the teacher
take a philosophical position, articulate it and its proof as an example to
students of the mode of thinking being taught. Satris suggests the same thing
except that Satris emphasizes putting the method (rather than a
particular position) in the spotlight. "One need not focus on the direct
advocacy of particular conclusions," says Satris.
Certainly, the move toward "showing" and away from "telling" seems a wise one in
responding to objections to authority. But how to do it? How to practice
philosophy (or any humanities discipline) in front of students with anything
like the authority of a math teacher working a problem? Perhaps an answer lies
in making students work the problems.
One twist on the advocacy approach involves subtly reassigning roles and moving
students into the position of active critics, readers, and judges, bringing
their critical resources to bear rather than casting them as passive receivers
of the teacher's authoritative statements. Satris suggests collecting students'
written responses to questions and then distributing anonymous duplicated copies
for the class to discuss critically. In this way students come to see that some
responses miss the point or are obviously mistaken; that some are well-written
and well-argued and that others aren't. Thus, they begin to learn critical
thinking without having their own armor assailed.
Young (Naïve)
Philosophers?
As an interview with Erion moves along, two things become clear: first, teachers
of philosophy were producing a rich "scholarship of teaching and learning" long
before anyone coined the phrase, and second, that a teacher's careful
consideration of the problem of student relativism can produce the deepening of
understanding that student relativism seeks to block. While impatience pleads
for "the answer" to the problem, mature discourse finds a variety of them and
Erion feels sympathy for and sees utility in most all of them.
For example, says Erion, not everyone sees students' insistence on relativism as
a psychological armor. Erion points to a short article by Roger Paden that takes
a very different view. Faced with students who hold tenaciously to relativistic
positions almost against their will, Paden comes to see the position as a kind
of "first-order ethical belief," a seemingly unshakable conviction in the value
of tolerance, a conviction some students hold even though they don't always like
it. This behavior leads Paden to begin regarding his students as "young
philosophers, who hold strong, albeit somewhat odd, beliefs about the world."
That view has two implications. First, Paden concludes that student relativism
must be taken seriously and treated with respect, since it forms a deep and
serious part of the students' identities as young adults. Second, since these
students have little experience in framing formal arguments, Paden recommends
coaxing an argument from them that all could regard as a fair representation of
student relativism.
Over time (and Paden and the others Erion examines all acknowledge how much
patience and time is required to confront student relativism effectively), Paden
evolved the following argument that most students will accept as a fair
representation of their relativism.
1) Respect for persons requires
that everyone has a right to his or her own opinion.
2) Therefore, it is wrong (i.e.,
impermissible) to try to
force anyone to change his or her opinion.
3) Arguments can force someone to
change his or her opinion.
4) Therefore, it is not morally
possible (i.e., is impermissible) to argue against someone's opinion.
5) If it is not possible to argue
against an opinion, it must be true.
6) Therefore, if someone holds some
belief, then due respect for that person compels us to say that belief is true
for that person (even though it is not true for me.)
Carefully creating this sort of collective argument to serve as an objective
construct to be discussed works to separate students from their emotional
commitment to relativism. This comfortable distance then allows students to
bring their latent capacities for reason to the fore, just as Goldman's posing a
general question about relativism in society and Satris's anonymous critique of
student papers do.
Respect and Force
Paden's approach quickly brings the concept of respect up for review, since it
lies behind the entire argument students have constructed. Leading students to
see that respect for others does not require us to insulate them from our
beliefs is crucial. Demonstrations of this point are easy to come by since
students, as a rule, readily agree that scientists' (for example) rigorously
testing each other's ideas reflects their respect for each other's work. Led by
such an objectivist case, they usually come to see that ideas deserve the same
respect as scientific insights. Under the umbrella of "tolerance," "ideas" and
"beliefs" seem to overlap and get mixed up in students' minds, and they begin to
object to "forcing" people to change their minds. Again, it becomes at least
possible at this point to demonstrate the difference between coercion (as in the
case of a dictator's fiat) and persuasion. And if the ethos of civil argument
has been carefully laid, students can easily see that, in Paden's words, "reason
compels only those who voluntarily submit to its authority." People who change
their minds in the face of rational argument have only proved themselves to be
rational, not lacking in conviction or power.
Getting Out In
Front
"Student relativism shows up in nearly every class I teach," says Erion. "I try
to get out in front of it, and so I typically introduce a unit on it early in
the semester. . . . I find myself using all of the approaches that I
survey in my article, so that I can tailor my response to the students who I
actually have with me in the class. Many of them do arrive with the armor Satris
writes about, and that certainly can be difficult to deal with, but it's
important to do so because our students need a deep understanding of the tools
of critical thinking if they are going to get lasting value out of their college
experiences."
Though he attempts to address student relativism early in the semester, Erion
reports that, like Rasputin, it keeps reappearing. "We have to revisit the issue
throughout the semester," he says. "Student relativism can come up in
discussions of most any philosophical topic, but at least they've had some boot
camp, some basic training early, and I think that helps. What worries me is
whether or not the thinking skills they begin to learn in my classes carry over
and get reinforced in their other classes or whether, under the thoughtless
cultural pressure for relativism we all experience, they sink back into ‘Who's
to say what's right or wrong?'"
  
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