Clarifying the Narrative Paradigm.

I I were to respond to Professor Rowland's essay in the usual way, I would argue that he does not test the narrative paradigm, that he tests his understanding of it, and it is his understanding that fails. I would, of course, substantiate my claims with detailed citations from his text. In particular, I would point him (and others) to the Preface of my book where the questions I am pursuing are presented, indicating the precise nature of my project, and to the introduction of chapter seven where I propose how one can go about using the narrative paradigm. However, I do not think that counter-attack is the best tack to take—at least for now. Rather than counter-attack, I want to try again to clarify my position. This statement will be an addition to a brief piece I recently published in Argumentation and Advocacy (1988, pp. 49-53), in which I responded to articles by my colleaguefriends, Bruce Gronbeck (1987, pp. 569-577) and Allan Megill (1987, pp. 557-563). My purpose was not so much to dispute what they had to say about historical writing as to question the heavy distinction they each made between argument and narrative. One of the moves I made in that essay is relevant here, a delineation of three senses in which I understand narration: narration— individuated forms such as depiction, ancedote, and characterization; narration— generic forms such as argumentation and narration; and narration—a conceptual framework, like dramatism, for understanding human decision, discourse, and action. Given narration, narration and narration can be interpreted and assessed as modes of expressing good reasons, as rhetorical forms inducing conclusions about people, community, and the world. I have no quarrel with those who insist on the utility of narration and narration. Efforts to use these distinctions to criticize the narrative paradigm, however, miss the thrust of my project. Such efforts seem to hold that the distinctions are not only useful but inviolate. The decision not to counter-attack probably requires some justification. My reasons are as follows: One, I have never read an author's reply to critics that did not come across as defensive, hurt, and/or petulant. I must confess that these feelings are not unknown to me, but I also feel that they are unproductive—for me or anyone else who wishes to advance ideas. Two, the replies of authors are usually followed by retorts from critics, the result often being more heat than light and a further fractioning of the spirit that inspires a scholarly community. Disagreements are, of course, constitutive of conversation, but not if they center on fundamental misconstruals. Three, I believe, along with William James (1974, pp. 131-132), that there is a natural evolution in the affirmation of new ideas. In regard to pragmatism, he wrote: "First, you know, a theory is attacked as absurd; then it is admitted as true, but obvious and insignificant; finally it is seen to be so important that its adversaries claim they themselves discovered it. " I do not mean to suggest by using James' observation that the narrative paradigm and pragmatism are somehow equal ideas, only that they, in their own times, are alike in being "new. " And four, I wholeheartedly agree with Max Planck (1936, p. 96), who wrote: "An important