For this assignment please answer question #4 on p. 103 & question #1 on p.104: the pdf is attached below and use the hw template
4. What were the historical justifications for excluding women, men of color, and poor and working-class people from engaging in intellectual and academic arguments?
1. What differences do you see between the adversarial model of argumentation and the cooperative model? Consider a time in your life when you argued cooperatively rather than in an adversarial way. What were the advantages? What were the challenges?
Page ix → Acknowledgments When my son was about six years old, he searched the house in frustration trying to locate a set of instructions for a new complicated Lego model he had received as a gift. After giving up on ever locating the booklet and sharing his dilemma with a friend, the suggestion was made that perhaps there was a video on YouTube demonstrating how to build that particular model. We searched online, and to my complete surprise there were a whole host of how-to videos made by different kids putting together various Lego sets. What struck me as we learned about this genre was the number of children and adults who cared enough to patiently document the process for completing a project. These videos were not intended to make stars out of the instructors. In many cases only the narrator’s hands were shown, and the focus was solely on the parts and the process. The objective of the videos was to share information in a clear, correct, and reliable way. Throughout my life, I have always responded so deeply to people who act from this objective. Like the newly enlightened prisoner returning to the cave in Plato’s Republic, there is something beautiful, generous, even optimistic in the effort to share what you know with others. To me it seems to stem from an obligation, a tacit duty that some people feel to continue meaningful conversations and projects by supporting fellow travelers. There are many people who have shared with me what they know and have invited me into lifelong conversations, giving me a direction for my work. Some of them I do not know personally, but their work has had a profound influence on my thinking. Most prominently in this category are feminist philosophers and women’s and gender studies scholars, among them Patricia Hill Collins, Marilyn Frye, bell hooks, Audre Lorde, Linda Martin Alcoff, Nancy Tuana, Sara Ruddick, Lorraine Code, Maria Lugones, Peggy McIntosh, Chandra Mohanty, and Genevieve Lloyd. Among the philosophers and scholars I have been lucky enough to know personally, the following people have generously shared their time, knowledge, and most significantly their friendship, and I am truly grateful for their gifts. They are Suzanne Bergeron, Catherine Hundleby, Phyllis Page x → Rooney, Ann Garry, Margaret Crouch, Ami Harbin, Lisa Schwartzman, and Jami Weinstein. Deborah Smith-Pollard suggested that I talk to an editor and consistently encouraged, challenged, supported, and cheered my efforts to get these ideas published. I have benefitted tremendously from her guidance and her friendship. Thank you all for setting the bar so high and keeping the work relevant and challenging. Thank you too for the times you actually sat at a bar (or the in-house nonalcoholic equivalent) with me while we discussed these challenges. An earlier version of this manuscript benefitted from the careful and generous reading of outside reviewers. In the process of completing this book I have come to know three of them, and although any missteps are all my own, they provided incredible guidance. Thank you Catherine Hundleby, Alison Bailey, and Patrick Grzanka not only for the care you took with my work but also for the work that you do to address social injustices. I have been fortunate to be part of an interdisciplinary academic women’s writers group for more than twelve years with some of the sharpest, funniest, and most lovingly perceptive women I have ever known. They include Lora Lempert, Jackie Vansant, Georgina Hickey, Patricia Smith, and Carolyn Krauss. Thank you for all the time and attention you gave to several of these chapters—they and I are better for it. At the University of Michigan–Dearborn I have had the benefit of some wonderful colleagues who were willing to read and/or think through some of the ideas that made their way into this book. Paul Hughes and Jonathan Smith both read early versions of the book proposal and provided helpful feedback as well as encouragement. Kathy Wider has been a mentor and a friend since I first arrived on campus, and her combination of theoretical precision and an ethical heart has served as an example for me my whole career. Gloria House hosted a series of faculty workshops on privilege and power, and some of the insights I gained from those meetings have made their way into these pages. Elias Baumgarten has led by example in his concern to address religious and cultural differences in the classroom. Marty Hershock has been a supportive colleague, friend, and Dean. Kate Davy is the uncommon provost who reminds you to protect your writing time when you are asked to serve on a committee. I am grateful for her reminders and her kindness. Christopher Burke, Francine Alexander, and Tiffany Marra have all provided helpful insights related to cognitive biases and world traveling. University of Michigan–Ann Arbor’s Office of Research along with University of Michigan–Dearborn’s Office of the Provost both provided funding to further the publication of this book, and I am very grateful for their support. I would especially like to thank the students in my Fall 2014 Phil Page xi → 390Q: Special Topics course at University of Michigan-Dearborn for contributions to this work. My dearest friends Janet Farrell, Scott McCrossin, Mike Kelly, Melinda Bryce, Rachel Saputo, and Jonathan Lethem have each contributed something unique and especially meaningful to this project. I have benefitted so much from their humor and their unique genius. My friends and family, including Nicole Stillman, Judy Laird, Jack Laird, Mike Laird, Jane Mineroff, Rosemary Colgan, Christine Dorta, Sheila Kostoff, Kevin Kostoff, Cathy Brown, and Marie Briganti, have all in a variety of different ways provided support and encouragement for this book. I want them to know how grateful I am for believing in this project. I also want to thank the West Bloomfield Public Library for the many productive hours I spent in the Quiet Study Area overlooking the woods. I have never encountered a better-managed or more well-maintained public library than the one in my neighborhood. Thank you to the staff at the University of Michigan Press, especially LeAnn Fields, Susan Cronin, and Renee Tambeau, and the team at Book-Comp, including Nicholle Lutz and M. Yvonne Ramsey, who provided much- needed help at various stages of this project. To my editor and friend Melody (“Pace yourself, honey!”) Herr at the University of Michigan Press, I am deeply grateful. From our first conversation in March 2012, Melody demonstrated great skill at virtuous listening and cooperative reasoning. She believed in this project and saw a bigger picture even while she encouraged me to develop the details. Melody consistently reminded me to look for greater dimensions and more depth in my analyses of conflict, and she cheered me on at every step. Her elegant aesthetic sense may not come through in my writing, but I hear her voice on every page. Finally, I want to express my love and gratitude to Patrick Laird and our son Jackson. Thank you for all those days you understood that I had to work. Thank you too for all those days you did not and you dragged me away from the computer so that we could spend more time together. I love you both with all my heart and soul. My greatest hope for you, Jackson, is that you will grow up to live in a world where empathy is seen as a sign of great intelligence and where the desire to exploit others for selfish gain is seen as a serious cognitive deficit. Page xii → Page xiii → Preface Office Hours I came to the Detroit metropolitan area in the late 1990s as a new assistant professor fresh from graduate school. Over time, I came to see the city and the region as a remarkable microcosm of the emerging challenges facing the United States in the twenty-first century. When I first arrived, racial disparities were on people’s minds following the economic booms that seemed to have benefitted every corner of the American Midwest with the exception of inner-city Detroit. According to census data, between 1980 and 2000 the city of Detroit lost one-fifth of its population, including one hundred thousand white residents. The residents who remained were 80 percent African American, and half the households were made up of nonmarried families with children. While the poverty rate within the city had declined during those twenty years, residents were still among some of the poorest in the country and were certainly poorer than their white neighbors in the northern and western suburbs. The 2000 census also showed that the Detroit metropolitan area was the most racially segregated urban region in the United States. This fact drew national attention and put a spotlight on an issue that everyone in the region lived with daily. When the census data and subsequent news stories came out, I remember asking students in my critical thinking course, “How many of you think that racism is a significant factor facing the Detroit metropolitan area?” A majority of hands went up. I then asked, “How many people think that racism is a factor facing you and your neighbors living in and around Detroit?” Again, a majority of hands sprang into the air. Finally I asked, “How many of you here think that you are contributing to the racism that we are facing?” Not a single hand would rise. After attempting some analysis with my students, I realized that although they were able to talk about race and racism in the abstract, they had a very hard time speaking out about their own attitudes and behaviors around race. One discussion I recall in particular involved the “riots” of the late 1960s. Several white students in the class shared how their own Page xiv → families, who had lived in the city for most of the early and mid-twentieth century, had fled practically overnight and left their homes without even putting them up for sale. After this discussion, an African American student in the class came to see me during office hours and explained that in his family they referred to the “riots” as “the uprising.” He said that his parents had taught him about the history of racial discrimination in the city, particularly in the areas of policing, education, real estate, and housing. African Americans living in the city, as he was told by his parents and relatives, were regularly humiliated by store owners, discouraged from using