Plato, possibly the greatest of all contemplators—ancient or modern—vehemently denounced the actions of his arch foes, who worked tirelessly to convince the public that eternal truths were intangible and their chase will always be fruitless. Rhetoric, the sophists claimed, prevailed over all else. Persuasion, words, diction, these were the stuff of action. These were the stuff of truth, limited as they may be.
As much as I admire Plato’s vociferous march to dignify eternal truths and rebuke its detractors, after reading the ambivalent reviews of the season-two finale of the Showtime series “Homeland,” I must corroborate the sophists’ claim that stronger arguments outlast such eternal truths to hold at least some water.
After watching the pilot episode of “Homeland,” I found myself mesmerized and spellbound. I kowtowed to the drama, completing all 24 hours of it within a week. Sure, I caught wind of some of the inevitable plot holes along the way, but each episode was riveting and left me on the edge of my seat. Voyeurs into TV’s rendition of CIA life hooked me onto the show, a personal addiction rivaled by only Starbucks coffee.
Naturally, after watching the season two finale, meaning all the episodes produced to date, I pined to see how critics and fellow fans felt about the direction of the series. I tirelessly flipped through Internet reviews of the season finale, which I felt to be nothing short of spectacular, and was met by a barrage of both praises and criticisms. New Yorker… bad. Rolling Stone…bad. New York Times… good.
Then it dawned on me: I really didn’t give a crap about what any of the reviews said. I definitely could not have cared less what other fans thought. I liked to see people engaged with the show, but their opinions did not affect mine at all. Moreover, I realized that their reviews and ideas were directly related to their own personal experiences, their moods while they were watching the show and writing their reviews, and how pedantic they felt like portraying themselves.
Although it was not news to me, I again realized that all views are subjective. When it comes to analysis, there are no eternal truths. There is only the legitimacy that we lend to so-called experts.
To make a left turn here, I want to propose that while we remain checked in our own beliefs and remain cognizant that additional insight will always bring alternating viewpoints along with it, we should not regard any “expert’s” opinion to appear as truth to us. We must remain committed to our own senses. We must recognize that if we like or dislike something, our visceral tendencies may be apropos.
This is to say that if, as a Wisconsinite, you somehow don’t like cheese curds, there may be something about cheese curds that really is unappealing, despite the overwhelming majority of people who place cheese curds on a hegemonic pedestal. The same goes for Leonardo DiCaprio films. Conversely, if by some freak chance you believe that the Chicago Cubs are a halfway decent franchise, then there really may be some aspect of the last century (which is widely believed to have brought nothing but devastation and embarrassment to the organization and its fans) that you can draw positivity from.
What I am trying to say is that many of our own opinions derive from how strong we perceive the arguments surrounding them, or how good we are at rationalizing or lying to ourselves. Arguments make the world go round, so argue well. Is that only a subjective truth? Well it depends how well you defend its claim. How is that for a sophisticated answer?
Did you watch the “Homeland” season two finale? What did you think? Share your own argument with Zac by sending him an email at pestine@wisc.edu.
