Norm Cons

NormCons / Tad Dunne / February 3, 2008 1

EXERCISES TO REVEAL THE NORMS OF CONSCIOUSNESS

By Tad Dunne

Lonergan readers usually suffer a bout of objectivity fright. Once they understand how knowing and deciding actually work, it dawns on them

that every truth they hold dear and every value they might die for originated in fallible, human minds. Especially when they see that the

criterion for making a sound judgment is the absence of relevant questions, they feel on the brink of sheer relativism

But those who persevere with Lonergan as he moves from questions about objectivity to questions about method discover that our most

profound moral achievements and our greatest scientific advances can be intelligibly traced back to norms in consciousness. So, to help my

students to get beyond their fright, I designed some exercises to help

them recognize these norms in themselves. While these exercises are only a beginning, they can establish a personal base for overcoming

methodological problems they will encounter as they explore the realms of art, science, history, philosophy, politics, or religion.

Before beginning them, however, I recommend discussing vertical finality -- the dynamism by which the entire universe produces higher

and more complex forms over time. I have the impression that most contemporary theologians and philosophers of science haven't realized

the explanatory power of vertical finality. To my mind, it delivers far more understanding of evolution than Darwin's natural selection or

Spencer's survival of the fittest. I believe it's the same reality that Jesus referred to as the "breath" of God (pneuma) blowing where it

pleases, and that St. Paul referred to as the pneuma in one great act of childbirth. This is the very same law that governs "natural"

evolution -- the law governing the emergence, under conditions of

probability, of successively higher forms of reality, including all the truths and values that make us who we are. One brief but

comprehensive description of it can be found in Lonergan's article, “Mission and the Spirit.”1

Another reason for the vertical finality setting is that, to my mind, it was the setting Lonergan had in mind when he talked about love. As

usual, Lonergan's view of love was a network of insights that linked world process and individual consciousness. He frequently invited his

readers to notice the differences between being attentive, being intelligent, being reasonable, and being responsible – that is, notice


how different it feels to be in these distinct modes of self-awareness.

He then led them to grasp how these different levels relate to one another, to verify what they grasped, and to deal with life more in line

with how their knowing and deciding actually work. He located love at the top level, but did not restrict "being in love" to what a single

person does. Instead, being in love is a way of being with others; it's a higher routine that makes being responsible, reasonable, intelligent

and attentive more effective. Being in love is not a distinct level of an individual conscious intentionality that raises questions beyond the

other levels. Rather it is a level of vertical finality as shows in human consciousness considered collectively, with a subconscious level below

and a network of love above the "four levels of conscious intentionality" that he usually speaks of.2

The marvel of it is that we experience vertical finality directly. It articulates itself in vertical ways that are noticeable, intelligible and

verifiable in our own consciousness. What is more marvelous is that

vertical finality in human consciousness provides "leads" that actually promote the emergence of good ideas and responsible commitments.

These "leads" are normative without being automatic. What follows, then, are exercises for noticing these leads or norms at each level of

our consciousness.

The Norms of Experiencing

At the first level, Lonergan says "There is the spontaneity of sense."3 Here he seems to hold that the norm of attentive consciousness is

spontaneous. But that doesn't mean it's purely random, only that it works without our bothering to allow it. In many other places he notes

how attention is prepatterned -- the biological, the dramatic, the practical, the artistic, the intellectual, and the mystical. Both the

spontaneity and the patterning of paying attention are norms; that is, they are operator functions that specify how paying attention works.

For an exercise, ask the students to spend about 30 seconds "not noticing anything." Of course it can't be done, and they will let you

know that. The lesson here is that noticing is spontaneous. There is a drive to be attentive.

Then have students "spend the next two minutes noticing." No further directions. Perhaps have them jot down what they notice. Then discuss

what they noticed. I'd expect that each student's list will show some

degree of patterning corresponding to Lonergan's "patterns of experience." One student may be distracted by a nagging headache –

the biological pattern. Another will notice how desks are constructed,


windows are hung -- the practical pattern. Another may notice how

various other students look, who they are attracted to, what opportunities present themselves -- the dramatic pattern. There may

even be some who notice their own feelings during the exercise – also the dramatic pattern, but noticing the data of consciousness rather

than the data of sense. Still another may notice the colors, textures and arrangements of trees outside -- artistic pattern. A few may notice

something that arouses their curiosity about how a strange-looking window lock works, or why the chalkboard is green – the intellectual

pattern. And so on.

The main point here is that experience is patterned. We might notice

the hum of an air conditioner or the roar of traffic noise, but not both together, because a hum is one pattern and a roar is another. We

don't notice buildings that are ugly or useless. When they tear one down, we drive by the empty lot and cannot remember what was

there. When we take a picture, it isn't until we see the print that we

notice a distracting telephone pole that we didn't "see" when we took the picture. Although everything we notice is patterned, the point here

is that our noticing is itself patterned. Noticing, paying attention, "experiencing," is not at all like running a mental camera. Our noticing

is not an open channel for bypassing data to fall into. It is quite selective, and it follows the inbuilt norm that the act of noticing is not

random; it follows some pattern.

There's a second point to make that will help students perform these

exercises with some objectivity. It is that our five senses are not the only data input channels. There are also the data of consciousness,

which appear in the student who notices her feelings during the exercises. This is important because the whole point of these exercises

is to find the normative events that occur in consciousness, not the events of looking, tasting, smelling, etc.

The Norms of Intelligence

Exercises for the second level can be a lot of fun. Lonergan favored

math problems, and they work well, but not for math-haters. Here's some non-math questions that I've used which require insight: (1) I

bought a sapling from a nursery. The salesman encouraged me to plant flowers at its base. Why? (2) A mother of four children under 12

insists that a box of cereal stays fresher stored on its side. Why? (3)

Three ladies emerging from a beauty salon notice a little boy asking them for help. There's a steel pipe sticking up 4 inches from the

concrete sidewalk it's embedded in. Inside the pipe, at the bottom,


there's a ping-pong ball whose diameter is very slightly less than the

inside diameter of the pipe. The boy asks the ladies to help him get the ball out of the pipe. They have a box of Wheaties, 20 feet of string,

a wire coat hanger, and one nail file. How can they get the ball out of the pipe? I'll give the answers at the end. What counts for the exercise

is not getting the right answer but noticing the push of curiosity and its dissatisfaction with half-baked ideas.

Additionally, almost any joke requires insight to get the point. Sometimes a mediocre joke -- the kind that not everyone gets --

conveys even better the difference between getting a point and not getting it because the insight is slow in coming.

For example: Joe is visiting his old friend Harry, and Harry is driving Joe around town. Harry comes up to a red light and drives right

through it. Joe says, "Hey! That was a red light!" Harry says, "Don't worry, my brother does it all the time." A few minutes later, Harry

drives through another red light. Joe cries out, "Watch out! That light

was red!" "Don't worry," Harry says. "My brother does it all the time." Then they come up to a green light and Joe starts to breathe more

easily. But Harry pulls to a stop. So Joe says, "Now why in the world would you stop for a green light?" Harry says, "My brother's in town."

As I say, not a great joke. The insight is that if Harry's brother is coming down the street that shows red, he will be driving through it.

Because the insight may come slowly in some, it's a good way to help student sort out the events that led to understanding -- the "aha!"

At this point, I suggest asking one student to explain the joke in a complete sentence. As they struggle with the right words, ask what

they consulted to ensure that the words were right. It's the insight itself, the grasp of an intelligibility inherent in the data. This is what

intellectual consciousness does here. It performs a search for "sense" or "cogency" or "coherence" -- either in things in their relation to

ourselves or in relation to each other. And this insight is the basis for

the concepts and words that we use to talk about it.

When this happens, a singular part of evolving reality -- human

consciousness at the second level -- is grasping the "form" or "intelligibility" of some other part of reality. That's a wonderful

phenomenon, when you think about it. That the inner dynamic governing the functioning of this or that thing can be "grasped by" or

"contained in" another thing. The intelligibility of reality is searched out by the intelligence of reality.

It's important to point out that we experience this norm in a certain kind of question – the question for intelligence. It shows in the words


how or why. The inbuilt norms of our intellectual consciousness seek to

grasp the intelligibility immanent in the data of experience. Vertical finality has not only moved us to notice; it has then moved us to

wonder how or why about what we noticed.

The Norms of Reasonableness

Exercises on the third level are about verification. The third level

norms are, mainly, the pure desire to know, the absence of relevant

questions, and the requirement that judgments be supported by data. In an initial, simple exercise, we might lead students to notice how

insights require verification. As Lonergan says, "insights are a dime a dozen," since most of them are unverifiable.

One exercise I've developed and use often is to get a fairly large

spool of string and lay in on its side, with the string coming out

the bottom toward you. An empty spool of electrical wire

(about 4" wheels, 2" axle), with a few feet of string wrapped

around the axle works great. A spool of sewing thread has too

fat an axle. Ask the class what

will happen to the spool if you pull slowly on the string. Either the spool will roll toward you, away

from you, or must necessarily skid in place. Have students explain the reasons supporting their position. Encourage them to use diagrams or

drawings, if that would help. Then offer your own explanation, with your own drawing, that supports what the spool will actually do.

At this point you may be wondering what the spool will actually do. Good. This is exactly where it is good to leave the students. There will

be various explanations, but our minds beg a look at the data. "Pull the spool, damn it!" That's the norm of reasonable consciousness at

work. How often have we said things like, "What the hell is going on here!" "Nonsense!" "No more bullshit!" All these expressions are the

work of reasonable consciousness desperate to know reality and not live in a myth. Reason is thirsty for that data that proves a hypothesis

correct or incorrect.

Notice how different this is from the norm of intelligence for which internal consistency, cogency and logic are sufficient. This difference

corresponds roughly to Newman's distinction between a notional


assent ("It makes sense") and a real assent ("It's really true!") Again,

I will delay telling what the spool will do until the end, just so you too can feel the norms of your own reasonable consciousness at work.

As I say, this exercise shows "simple" functioning of the third level. That fact that Lonergan locates the functional specialties "history" and

"doctrines" on this level suggests that the typical functioning is more complex.

Corresponding to "history," third level wonder is about whether our stories are correct or not. Historians aim to provide the most plausible

explanation of human events that they can. The best accounts make sense of all the data -- all the relevant questions. For an exercise here,

one might ask students to tell "the story" of what happened to their family at some critical point -- say, the death of a parent or the birth

of a child. If you then tell them, "I think you got that all wrong," they will ask for your reasons. If you say, "No reason; I just think you got it

wrong," they will think this preposterous -- and it is. Then point out

that their strong objection is the work of their reasonable consciousness that demands a further relevant question before it

allows anyone to assail a cherished belief. It is usually loaded with far more passion than the norms at the second level.

Then, corresponding to "doctrines," third level wonder is about whether our understanding of nature -- human and non-human -- is

correct or not. As Lonergan says, "doctrines are not just doctrines. They are constitutive both of the individual Christian and of the

Christian community. They can strengthen or burden the individual's allegiance. They can unite or disrupt. They can confer authority and

power. They can be associated with what is congenial or what is alien to a given polity or culture."4 For an exercise, ask students what

"myths" they had when they grew up, and what new beliefs have replaced those myths.

Examples: myths about the opposite sex; personal myths about how

to avoid trouble; myths about what jocks do; myths about how romantics behave; myths about how to get ahead in life, how to be a

success, how to make money; myths about China or Islam, myths about God and how to be holy; etc. For the sake of simplicity and

ensuring student attention, one might just take myths about the opposite sex. After some sharing about this, have them notice how

their minds naturally scrutinized myths to make sure they were correct, how our spirits loathe error, how we appeal to data to verify

the correctness of our beliefs etc. For example, I have suggested that "Women forgive but don't forget, while men forget to forgive." This

nugget of pop wisdom almost always meets criticism. It's too much a


generalization. But in the urge to criticize it we experience the norms

of our reasonable consciousness.

These norms are alert for data that may not fit, but there are the two

extremes of overcertainty and undercertainty to be avoided. Sometimes, with strongly held stories or principles, we tend to distort

data to fit what we hold to be true. At the other extreme, the immature never really claim a story or principle as their own but

instead flit from one view to another, often understanding, seldom judging. At each extreme, third level consciousness is uneasy because

relevant questions have not been given their due.

It would be important here to note how the norm for reasonableness

has to fight against our need to belong. Although third level consciousness lays a steady hand on me to live in the truth, it's a soft

touch compared to the eruptions of the fears and insecurities that arise when the beliefs of my community are threatened. This resistance to

the light is stubborn because I have swallowed entire some

mythologized historical accounts or unreasonable doctrines as a price of feeling part of a family, a clique, a nation, even a religion. Along

these lines, I can attest that many adult Catholics I know have had to disengage what they saw as the Church's erroneous teaching on

sexual morality and ecclesiology from their continuing allegiance to the Church.

This, too, would make for an exercise, but probably one separate from the simpler exercise where they notice the pressure of being

reasonable. The aim of this more complex exercise would be simply to isolate what it feels like to belong, and compare that feeling with the

exigence to be reasonable. Students could take any inherited story or doctrine that they disagree with. The point of the exercise, though, is

not to justify their disagreement, but to help them identify the distinct feeling of each kind of normativeness – the transcendental precept, Be

Reasonable, and the instinct to "Be enmeshed."

The Norms of Responsibility

Structurally, the norms for judgments of value are partly the same as for judgments of fact -- the "positive" experience of a desire for the

good and the "negative" experience of an absence of relevant questions. But our experience of the question whether something is

good feels vastly different than the question whether something is

true. While I may be passionate about my beliefs, it usually doesn't bother me that others think differently. But if others are going to act

differently, then I'm alert to acting at cross purposes. Also, if I am


being reasonable -- that is, focused on knowing the truth -- then I

would ordinarily suppress any feelings that complicate a review of the relevant data. But when I'm being responsible -- focused on doing

better -- my consciousness is dominated by feelings. One might say that feelings are relevant questions about value.

Here, exercises might focus on any ethical question, but the more controversial and live the better. So, easy questions will deliver

satisfied consciences -- for example, is it OK to murder a driver who cut you off in traffic? But difficult questions will create disturbed

consciences -- for example, Would you sign an advance directive, right now, stipulating that food and water be withheld from you under

certain conditions? Or take live questions people have about relationships among family members or about career choices. The

more personal the better.

The other big difference to notice here is that you can't "verify" the

correctness of a value judgment strictly by returning to the data, as

we do with fact judgments. True, what is valuable is also intelligible. That is, any proposal to do something has to meet the norms of

intellectual consciousness. It's also true that our intellectual understanding of the situation that the proposal applies to has to be

correct, which means that our analysis of the current situation should meet the norms of reasonable consciousness. But being responsible is

more than being intelligent and reasonable. There are all the probablys and perhapses that modify what we know. There are the Sophie's

Choices between two evils or the surplus of equally good options that we sometimes encounter. And there is the shame of knowing right and

doing wrong.

Being responsible goes beyond knowing to doing. And because it does,

it involves us irrevocably not only in making history but in making the selves we are becoming. So the norm at this level of consciousness

involves all other levels of consciousness as well, since the selves we

are becoming comprise all these other levels. The norm, then, is an inner harmony among all the levels.

To isolate what this inner harmony feels like, I have often used an exercise from Ignatius Loyola. It comes from his rules for "discerning

inspirations" (more commonly but more misleadingly referred to as "discerning the spirits"). He suggests that a spiritual mentor describe

in detail the difference between water falling on a rock and water penetrating a sponge. I have taken a sponge, soaked it in a pail of

water, and, holding it high, squeezed out the water so it fell to a rock on the floor. I had participants describe that action -- "noisy,"

"spattering in all directions," "chaotic," etc. Then, after squeezing out


all the water, I dipped a corner of the sponge into the pail. I asked for

a description of that action of the water moving into the damp sponge -- "quiet," "easy," "subtle," "fulfilling," etc. The point here is that bad

inspirations feel like water falling on a rock, while good inspirations feel like water penetrating a damp sponge. And, what's crucial for

spiritual guidance, this almost always holds even when the content of the inspiration suggests otherwise. For example, suppose a young

woman keeps thinking she ought to be a nun. The content of the thought is praiseworthy, but if it strikes her like water hitting a rock,

then she should ignore it. Contrariwise, if a father keeps thinking he should punish his son for some misdeed -- something he is loathe to

do -- but the thought hovers in his mind like water penetrating a wet sponge, then he should probably follow it.

Ignatius was very shrewd about the norms of consciousness. He also noticed that ideas, concepts and words tend to upset normal behavior,

while feelings tend to secure it. Thus, in a person who is not morally

converted, the norms of pleasure and self-gratification dominate behaviors, while conscience delivers its sting through thoughts or the

words of others. By contrast, feelings in the morally converted person tend toward what is truly good rather than the merely satisfying, while

the source of misguided anxieties, fears and hesitations usually come from too much thinking or listening to the warnings and scoldings of

others. So the advice, "If it feels good, do it" is the worst possible advice for the morally unconverted, while it does carry some merit for

the converted.

The Norms of Love

Just as at the bottom level of human being there is a "quasi-operator" that delivers affect-laden images from the subconscious to the level of

experience, so at the top there is a "quasi-operator" that lifts the fourth level operations to their fullest context of interpersonal

relations.5

It is difficult to design "exercises" at this level because you can't

pretend it. Being in love involves a real commitment. If a Judy is "being in love," then she already has the data of a consciousness in

love to draw upon. Unfortunately, a Joe who grew up in an abusive situation and whose affectivity is distorted is more likely to rely on

definitions of "being in love" drawn from country-western music.

The chief norm in consciousness that moves us toward love is the impulse toward sharing consciousness. I'm not talking about having

the same views. I'm talking about consciousness in Lonergan's


technical sense. It's the self-presence that accompanies acts. For

example, when I look at a boat, I not only see the boat, I experience myself as looking. I am "conscious" in the sense of being self-present

as I look. By the same token, if you and I are singing a duet, we are present to ourselves in the plural as we follow the notes on the score.

Just as operations bring individual consciousness, so cooperations bring common consciousness. The norm that we experience here is the

impulse toward cooperating and, with that cooperating, being a "we."

To help students see how the norm of becoming a "we" works, we

might compare a person in love to a person who is not. I'm thinking of the highly "ethical" person who doesn't like people much. I can

imagine an exercise in which students draw pictures of two characters in the Prodigal Son parable -- the elder brother and the benevolent

father. The elder brother is ethical but unloving; he doesn't know how to allow fifth level operations -- which are always and essentially

cooperations --to sublate his bitter fourth level successes. He doesn't

really grasp what his father is telling him, "Son, you are with me always and all I have is yours." That is, the father always thought of

himself as cooperating with the elder brother, while the elder brother thought of himself as merely obeying the father. (Doesn't this give a

poignant insight into Jesus' view of Yahweh?)

Anyway, then have each student describe the consciousness of the

elder brother and the father as depicted in the drawing. I would expect that most students will portray how alone, isolated, and subservient

the elder brother feels, while the father thinks of himself as part of his family. They may see that the son experiences a pain of isolation,

while the father experiences a pain of frustrated love. Both feel the impulse toward being a "we," but a self-righteousness in the son

(presuming Jesus aimed this at the Pharisees) is holding him back and the father is helpless to eradicate it.

The natural question students will ask here is, "What really is love?

How do I distinguish it from mere infatuation?" I suggest that the answer is simple and quite practical. Being in love is that orientation to

others which make me effectively more responsible, more reasonable, more intelligent, and more attentive.6 So, for a different exercise, a

teacher might simply ask for stories of how being in love made a person more responsible that he/she would have been otherwise; then

how it makes us more reasonable; and so on.

Again, what counts here is the perspective of vertical finality. When

being responsible functions well, we appreciate and care for others. But if these others also appreciate and care for us, then there's a new

reality ordering an otherwise coincidental manifold of individual


operations of caring and appreciating. The new reality is a community,

and the operations that define it are essentially cooperations. It can take many forms -- a friendship, a family, a club, a nation, etc. This

community, by its cooperations, sublates the fourth-level caring, appreciating, and deciding that occurs among its members.

The shared operations that constitute this new reality include the same value judgments about most things in our common experience, and

particularly about the "us" that has emerged. That is, I may be very conscious of being pleased with the "us" that has emerged, but what

constitutes this "us" is also our being pleased together with things in the world we share. This is not a high achievement; it is rather

ordinary. It forms the live context of the growing up of most children, though unfortunately not all.

It's important to anticipate that the norms resulting from this level of vertical finality are not the result of operations specific to that

individual alone; they depend partly on operations occurring in others.

So my wife has a better sense of me than I have, just as I believe I appreciate her more -- or more accurately -- than she does. And we

depend on our mutual love to provide the norms for our life together. So, Lonergan: "As [the passionateness of being] underpins and

accompanies, so too it overarches conscious intentionality. There it is the topmost quasi-operator that by intersubjectivity prepares, by

solidarity entices, by falling in love establishes us as members of community."7 Real community is constituted by common experience,

understanding, judgments and -- and here's the full normative factor -- common purpose. That is, our community gives us norms for living --

"our" customs and laws.

The norm at this level is this "quasi-operator." Lonergan calls it "quasi-

" to distinguish it from the operators that appear as questions in the consciousness of the individual. This operator appears as spontaneous

intersubjectivity, the experience of belonging to a group, and by falling

in love. While these are three distinguishable movements, Lonergan sees them as part of a single dynamic headed toward community with

others and the love of God.

The problem, of course, is that it's terribly difficult to go all the way

with this quasi-operator. Our spontaneous intersubjectivity and feeling of solidarity have often destroyed people. Think of wives sticking with

abusive husbands, teenagers doing drugs rather than splitting from the gang, mere partisan voting in our legislatures, etc. As children we

are saturated with the worldview and values of the community we are born into. Gradually, the norms in our consciousness test these views

and values, accepting some and rejecting others. We eventually face


the issue of minor authenticity and major authenticity. With minor

authenticity, we obey the norms presented to us, whether from within or from without. With major authenticity, we rely on inner norms as

the basis for evaluating the external, inherited norms.

The Ambiguity of Vertical Finality

The point of these exercises has been to notice and understand how

the various norms in consciousness work. No one claims they work

well. From the doctrine of Original Sin to the plain evidence of history, both our inner norms and the norms that spring from community are

in need of healing.

"Here we meet the ambiguity of man's vertical finality," Lonergan

says.8 While it is natural to us to fall in love, we are also under the power of sin, and, under its spell, we will adhere to both internal and

external norms that contradict the dynamism of vertical finality.

While this marks the end of exercises to reveal the norms we

experience, it can also mark a transition to a discussion of evil and of the structure of redemption. The world is a mess because these norms

do not work infallibly. We can suppress them. If, then, God has provided a redemption, it will be something that heals the biases that

inhibit the norms within us, and incarnates both a community of love and a person living an unassailably best life.

Conclusion

It is important to conclude with a remark about the importance of this exercise. Point out that these norms are transcendental. That is, they

are the dynamic, operating source of any principles, truths or values that have ever been discovered – or ever will be.

Answers to Second Level puzzles:

(1) People assume flowers need water, but usually neglect a tree's

need for water. If you plant the flowers at the base of a new tree, you're more likely to get water to the tree. (2) Kids are more likely to

roll up the inner lining to prevent spills -- thus keeping the contents fresher. (3) Pee in the pipe: the ball floats out. This last example is a

good jumping off point for how we also suppress the images that lead to insight. In this case, we're squeamish about imagining three women

peeing into a pipe on a sidewalk so we suppress the image. Images can be suppressed for all four of the biases . . . etc.


Answer to the third level puzzle:

One explanation is to imagine replacing the wheels of the spool with gears. Then imagine lopping off the upper half of the spool, and then

lopping off most of the gears except the few teeth nearest to the ground. What do you have? A croquet-wicket-shaped thing with a

string attached near the top of the crossbar. Here it's easy to see that if you pull the string, the wicket-thing will tip toward you, shifting its

point of contact with the ground to the teeth nearer you. OK. Let the number of teeth go to infinity and their depth go to zero and you have

what happens in the first instant of pulling on the spool. It must roll toward you. Really. Not satisfied? It's no surprise; the third level

norms want to return to the data for verification. OK, go ahead and pull the damn thing. (By the way, a more complicated version of this,

one that can win you money from experienced bicyclists, is to ask what happens to a bike when you pull backwards on the bottom

pedal.)

© Tad Dunne 2008

1 See Third Collection (New York: Paulist Press, 1985), pp. 24-27 et passim.

2 For specifics, see my "Being in Love" in Method: Journal of Lonergan Studies

13/2 (Fall 1995) 161-175.

3 Third Collection, p. 142

4 Method in Theology (New York: Herder & Herder, 1972), p 319.

5 These technical terms come from “Mission and the Spirit,” op. cit., pp 28-30.

6 I’m thinking here of the healing movement in history. See Lonergan’s

“Healing and Creating in History,” in Third Collection, pp 100-109.

7 See “Mission and the Spirit,” Third Collection, p. 30.

8 Ibid.

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