Perhaps ironically, despite the idealizations that can be found in their accounts of disagreement, Hales (2014) and MacFarlane (2007)themselves pro-vide the arguments that point in this direction. Hales denies that, say, Jones’ announcement ‘I (here and now) find rhubarb delicious’ is invariably and prop-erly answered with a tolerant shrugging of shoulders. It all depends on the context. Sometimes one might invoke an expert opinion against Jones: ‘Are you sure? Smith likes this rhubarb, and he has tried rhubarb in many different dishes over the last few days.’ Or one might offer a compromise: ‘I think you tried a piece of the pie that hasn’t been in the oven long enough; have one of my pieces, I am sure that will change your mind.’ On other occasions the right thing to do is to propose a suspension of judgement: ‘Let’s not jump to conclusions quite yet; let’s try different varieties and dishes and then make up our mind’ (Hales 2014, 77). MacFarlane invites us to imagine a world in which we had no terms like ‘delicious’ or ‘funny’ (the key terms focused on in debates over faultless disagreement). In such a world, rather than uttering sentences like ‘rhubarb is delicious’, we would only be able to say things like ‘rhubarb is very pleasing to my taste buds’. The difference between the imagined world and our world, MacFarlane (2007, 29) suggests, is that in the imagined world ‘there would be a lot less controversy’. It makes sense to respond to ‘rhubarb is delicious’ with ‘no, not at all; rhubarb is bland.’ But to counter ‘rhubarb is very pleasing to my taste buds’ with ‘no, rhubarb is not pleasing to my taste buds’ is infelicitous. MacFarlane goes on to reflect why it is that we have expressions like ‘delicious’ and ‘funny’ even though there is ‘no (nonrelative) truth on which both parties can converge’. Why do we use ‘controversy-inducing ... vocabulary’ (2007, 30)
can be useful for mapping out responses/outcomes