Every fall since 2005 I have worked on at least one paper to present at the November conferences. A seemingly inevitable companion to this process is  frustration. How could this be? Isn’t scholarship the purest way to pursue Knowledge? Well, I am not so sure. Here is what I am talking about.

When the call for papers comes out, there is typically some measure of dissatisfaction with the status quo on some issue. If not, why would I propose a paper on the topic? I have read the literature and come to the conclusion that I have a contribution to make on the matter, so I submit a proposal. So from the very beginning, the proposal is based on frustration at some level. But wait, there is more.

Then comes the literature review and preparation for writing the paper. This is where I should be adding to my already profound arsenal of Knowledge, filling my cup til it runneth over. Realistically, I feel like many use this stage to fill their quiver with barbs that they will launch at other scholars. Why? Because some folks seem more interested in being right than in getting it right. I recognize it is arrogant to level such a charge, representing myself as though I was somehow above the fray. The impetus for writing this post is finding one of what will likely be many places where I would like to rephrase my argument in the discourse grammar. Alas, I digress.

So we have an area we are passionate about in our proposal. The ultimate, altruistic goal is to make a contribution to knowledge. The more carnal motive is more like wanting people to say, “Hey, that guy in the bow tie really knows his stuff.” Part of adding to knowledge is interacting with and–ideally speaking–BUILDING on what is already known. But this is where I feel like the wheels come off all to often.

The conflicting goals of adding something new and showing you are right cause problems. If I allow the being right value to outweigh the getting it right, there can be a tendency to tear down all other arguments so that yours is the only one left standing. Yours may or may not be right. I was shocked my first time at SBL in 2001 to hear some of the papers. People were proposing new things that seemed ludicrous. They seemed more interested in the novelty of the proposal than in how it actually addressed or resolved the core problem. I had a lot to learn.

In reading my lit review for the historical present paper, I am finding myself struggling with anger. I am not just talking about the initial motivational one that gives you the courage to submit the proposal. I am talking about the anger that comes from reading a scholar dismissing another’s argument because it does not use their preferred framework, or does not use the proper term in the proper way. It is maddening! Do they think folks like Thackeray, Robertson, Wallace or Buth are simpletons? Dolts? Come on!

I did some blog posts–that actually were much more like a rants here and here–about the huge need in scholarship to engage your opponents arguments on their own merits. Instead, too often we find dismissive scholarship, intellectual engagement that is limited to picking a few nits and then casting it aside.

The specific issue that has got me in a tizzy is folks getting it mostly right, but being dismissed because of the portion that is lacking. To put it another way, instead of remodeling the missing element of the structure, they demo the whole thing so that THEY can be the builder, THEY can save the day.

Let me give you a case in point, one where I–your beloved host–botched it. Here is an excerpt from my Discourse Grammar chapter on the historical present.

The tense reduction view rejects understanding the present tense verbs as true presents, viewing them instead as more of a sequential form as found in Hebrew and other languages. Another factor lending credence to the tense reduction view is that “their exegetical significance differs from other verbs which may appear as historical presents”. Battle seems to accept the idea that the historical present is indeed used for vividness’ sake, and is more focused on the semantic issue of the tense’s meaning rather than on its pragmatic effects in past-tense contexts. He offers the following proposal to explain the usage in Matthew and Luke-Acts:
Matthew and Luke-Acts, especially the former, nearly always connect the historical present to the aorist. Very seldom is it tied to an imperfect. This fact can show either that the historical present is substituted for an aorist in what would normally be a chain of aorists, or that the historical present takes the place of the imperfect which would normally be used to break the monotony of continuous aorists. The first explanation seems simpler, and thus better.1
Battle’s view appears to attribute the usage to stylistic variation, without a definable discourse function in the gospels. He understands the HP as a substitute form verb form, describing what is possible without stating a motivation for the departure from the norm.
Wallace holds a comparable reductionist view regarding the semantics of the present, while affirming the pragmatic effect of vividness:
The aspectual value of the historical present is normally, if not always, reduced to zero. The verbs used, such as λέγει and ἔρχεται, normally introduce an action in the midst of aorists without the slightest hint that an internal or progressive aspect is intended. The historical present has suppressed its aspect, but not its time. But the time element is rhetorical rather than real.2
This explanation accounts for the usage, but does little to help one understand why it was used in the context other than for vividness.3

This is a great example of knocking something down needlessly so that I alone can make the point from scratch.  Here is the revised version from my current paper, commenting on the same quote from Wallace:

In claiming this, Wallace is not so much taking a reductionist view as he is reacting to the contextual factors. He is observing that the context ostensibly expects an aorist form, with no semantic need for present tense or imperfective aspect. His claim about the usage being “rhetorical” rather than semantic evidences an understanding of markedness. The HP usage stands out in the context because of its departure from the expected norms.

Recall my earlier claim that the HP usage represents a marked departure from the expected norms in terms of aspect and tense. This contention will be supported by claims made by those arguing for the HP have little or no temporal or aspectual value. Such claims are responding to the mismatch between the usage and the discourse context in an effort to reconcile the two.

You see, dear reader, I needlessly represented Wallace as a reductionist. He may actually be one, the shoe may fit. But I do not need Wallace to be a reductionist to make my point. I can give him the benefit of the doubt and focus on what he gets right, building on the conclusions that underlie his observations. In fact, he may be completely right, just not using the proper jargon to clearly communicate what I am looking for. I came across a claim this morning from Thackeray about the discourse function of the HP. I need to run it down, but he may have already claimed essentially what I am claiming, but rather poorly. He may have used the best terminology of his day, leading to a clouding of his point from our “modern, enlightened, linguistic perspective.”

It behooves me in writing my paper to stop and ask what my objective is: to be right or to get it right? If I am claiming something that no one else has ever claimed before, I have good reason to fear. If I am claiming something that represents the core idea the grammarians have expressed for over a century and I can build on or clarify that argument, there is a far greater chance of getting things right. It is a win-win: in getting it right, I get to be right.

Tearing down all other arguments to leave yours as the sole survivor may appear, for a time, to be right, may appear to be a sound strategy. However, this should not be our goal. Our goal should be to get it right. The best way to accomplish this is to build on a solid foundation. The dead grammarians are firm ground, not sand. They did not get everything right any more than I do. But they were far closer to the stated goal that many give them credit for.

Learning is an iterative process. I learned a lot while writing the grammar, but there are still things that need more learning, that need revision. I have come a long way from my MA thesis argumentation, the thankfully unpublished one. Despite this, I still have more to learn about being a gracious scholar. I feel my argument is far stronger by building on Wallace’s observations than dismissing them as reductionistic. I hereby repent, and this is my confession. Learn from my mistake: Engage instead of dismissing. It takes far more time and thought, but I believe it the first step in getting it right.