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Philosophical Essays on Many Subjects

The Logic of Conspiracy Theories I: Argument from Authority

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While the details of each conspiracy theory vary, they typically involve attributing excessive power and influence to a small group engaging in nefarious activities. A classic example is the notion that NASA faked the moon landings. There are also many “false flag” conspiracy theories that range from the idea that the Bush administration was behind the 9/11 attack to the idea that mass shootings are faked to the claim that the pro-Trump stickers on the mail bomber’s van were placed to frame Republicans. There are also various medical conspiracy theories, such as those fueling the anti-vaccination movement.

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There has been considerable research into why people believe in conspiracy theories. An intuitively plausible explanation is that anxiety and feelings of a loss of control lead to accepting such theories. Ironically, people who embrace conspiracy theories seem to be less inclined to act to counter the perceived conspiracy, perhaps because they feel helpless in the face of such imagined power. This is not to say that this always holds true—the conspiracy theory about Hillary Clinton running a slavery operation in a pizzeria led to a concerned citizen shooting up the place.

It is certainly tempting to embrace the stereotype of the conspiracy theorist: someone immune to logic, oblivious to opposing evidence and perhaps suffering from mental illness. To broadly dismiss conspiracy theorist using this stereotype would be an error, though it certainly does apply in some cases. My contention is that some conspiracy theorists use the same tools of logic and reasoning as everyone else and I will endeavor to show that this is true.

Since the world is a complicated place and is beyond the understanding of any one person, we all turn to experts when we want to know if something is true or not. For example, most of us lack the time and resources to investigate in person the nature of migration, so we must rely on (supposed) experts to provide us with (one hopes) true claims. Accepting such claims based on the (alleged) expertise of the person making the claim is to use an argument from authority. This argument has the following form:

Premise 1. Person A is (claimed to be) an authority on subject S.

Premise 2. Person A makes claim C about subject S.

Conclusion. Therefore, C is true.

This reasoning is inductive (the premises provide a degree of support for the conclusion that is less than complete) and its strength depends on the quality of the authority/expert making the claim. If the authority is qualified to make reliable claims in the subject area, then the argument would be a good one. For example, believing that this is what an argument from authority is because of my expertise as a philosophy professor who has taught critical thinking/logic since 1989 would be good reasoning, If the alleged authority is not qualified to make reliable claims in the subject area, then the argument would be a fallacious appeal to authority—the premises would fail to properly support the conclusion. For example, if you believed what I said about quantum theory because of my alleged expertise, then you would fall victim to this fallacy—my expertise in philosophy does not confer expertise in quantum theory.

Most people who rationally believe any theory believe it based on an argument from authority—the exceptions are those who are experts in the theory. For example, most of us believe in the theory of relativity because of Einstein and other scientists, not because we have done the research ourselves.  In the case of conspiracy theories, believers often use an argument from authority: they believe the theory because an (alleged) expert has told them it is true. For example, those who accept the anti-vaccination theory point to the infamous paper that asserts a causal link between vaccines and autism or they believe because a celebrity they admire tells them vaccines are dangerous. Those who dislike Trump and believe that Putin has a urination tape as leverage probably do so because they heard the account from a source they want to believe. As such, for almost everyone the reasoned belief in a theory is the result of an argument from authority. So, then, what is the difference between the conspiracy theorist who believes that vaccines are dangerous because of what a celebrity says and a person who accepts relativity because of what Einstein said?

The difference, in general, is that conspiracy theorists tend to fall for fallacious arguments from authority as opposed to accepting well-founded arguments from authority. For example, believing that vaccines cause autism because of a debunked paper or because of what an actor says would be to fall into this fallacy. After all, unless the actor is also a medical expert on vaccines what they say about vaccines has no logical weight.

Resisting fallacious arguments from authority can be challenging, especially when the alleged authority is appealing, or the view being presented fits nicely with what one wants to believe. However, there are standards by which to assess an argument from authority. To be a good argument, it must be such that:

1. The person has sufficient expertise in the subject matter in question.

2. The claim being made by the person is within her area(s) of expertise.

3. There is an adequate degree of agreement among the other experts in the subject in question.

4. The person in question is not significantly biased.

5. The area of expertise is a legitimate area or discipline.

6. The authority in question must be identified.

If all these conditions are met, then the conclusion is probably true. However, since the argument from authority is inductive it suffers from the classic problem of induction: even if all the premises are true, the conclusion could still turn out to be false.

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White Supremacists vs Muslims

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After the terrorist attack by an apparent white nationalist in New Zealand, President Trump was offered the opportunity to strongly condemn white supremacists. He declined to do so. While white supremacists killed more Americans in 2017 than another other domestic extremist group, authorities are often reluctant to treat them as terrorists. For example, they are not on the terror watchlist—even though white supremacists meet the definition of “terrorist.”

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In contrast, Trump and others are quick to cast most (or even all) Muslims as potential or actual terrorists. Trump and others also present Mexicans and migrants as presenting such a threat that he declared a state of emergency on the southern border. This disparity invites investigation and explanation.

One possibility is that the disparity is warranted—that white nationalists do not present a significant threat and are merely isolated individuals while Muslims, Mexicans and migrants present a significant and organized threat. The obvious problem with this view is that it fails to match the facts. In terms of the number of Americans killed, white supremacists are the deadliest domestic extremist group. Even if they were not the deadliest, this would still not warrant such an extreme disparity in the rhetoric and actions.

One plausible explanation lies in the realm of politics. One key tactic in politics is to demonize a group and cast them as a scapegoat for problems. The targeted group must, obviously enough, not be part of the politician’s base—it must be relatively unimportant to the politician politically and demonizing it must gain more than what is lost in doing so. It obviously also helps if the groups being demonized are relatively weak and even better if they are seen as outsiders.  Demonizing Muslims, Mexicans and migrants works quite well because these groups are relatively weak within the United States and are generally regarded as outsiders. There are also pre-existing prejudices that can be used effectively. Trump and others have made no bones about being anti-Muslim and anti-migrant. They have also openly appealed to such sentiments in others as a political tool.

While Trump and others might get some criticism from the left, casting Mexicans as rapists, migrants as murders and Muslims as terrorists comes with little political cost and considerable political gain with their base. There is also the fact that their base is often afraid of such people and easily buy into the stereotypes, scare tactics and hasty generalizations used to influence them.

While Trump and other politicians in his camp probably do not condone the murder and violence conducted by white supremacists, demonizing and scapegoating white supremacists presents a problem. In the case of migrants, Mexicans and Muslims, Trump is fine with presenting them as a general threat—though he is willing to admit that despite so many being rapists, there are fine people among the Mexicans. What Trump and others do is make hasty generalizations and appeals to anecdotes in order to claim from a few examples or anecdotes about crimes, acts of terror or violence conducted by migrants, Mexicans or Muslims that most of them are thus criminals, violent or terrorists.

Taking the same approach to white supremacists would involve generalizing from the relatively few white people who are domestic terrorists to white people in general. Even if it were restricted to white people who like guns and dislike non-whites, this would still generalize to a significant section of the white population. Demonizing whites to win white votes would not be a winning strategy. Also, Trump’s base includes a significant number of white people who like guns and are not very fond of non-whites. Demonizing them would presumably not work well for him.

It could be pointed out that this, at best, explains why Trump and his ilk demonize Mexicans, migrants and Muslims and not white supremacists. It does not explain why Trump and his fellows are so reluctant to condemn white supremacists and categorize them as terrorists.

One obvious explanation is that white supremacy and racism are part of the ideological, economic, moral and political foundation of the United States. Racism is not just a matter of history—it is still active today across all of America.  While white people often claim that it does not exist, the evidence is rather strong that it does. Interestingly, when people deny that it exists or that they are racist, they often do so in the context of being racist. As such, to be critical of white supremacy and racism is to be critical of the very foundations of the United States and it is to attack part of the institutionalized power of white people. Since the wealth and power of Trump and his fellows are at least partially built on this foundation and maintained by the current institutions, it is hardly surprising that they are unwilling to condemn white supremacists. To do so would be to condemn racism and to thus attack themselves.

In contrast, Islam is not part of the foundation of the United States nor is it part of the institutions that maintain power and wealth. When Trump and his fellows demonize and attack it, they are not attacking the foundation and maintainer of their own wealth and power—it is a safe target for them.

In short, it makes perfect sense why Trump and his fellows attack migrants, Muslims and Mexicans while treading lightly when it comes to white supremacists. Demonizing migrants, Mexicans and Muslims is politically useful while attacking white racism would be to attack what is foundational and sustaining for their wealth and power.

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College Admission & Unfairness

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That college admission is a commodity for sale is an open secret—one I was aware of even in my naïve student days. As with any such practice, there arose a set of norms and laws governing the legal and acceptable ways of buying admission. For example, donating large sums of money or funding a building are well within the norms and the laws. Recently, however, celebrities and other elites broke the norms and the laws in their efforts to get their children into elite colleges. On the face of it, there is no real need to argue that what they did was morally wrong—such an argument would garner almost no opposition. What is more interesting is considering the matter in the context of fairness.

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On the surface, the actions of the accused fraudsters are clearly unfair. While the tactics varied from student to student, they included altering admission test results, bribing coaches to accept non-athletes as recruited athletes, and direct bribes. Interestingly, much of the commentary on these misdeeds makes note of the fact that these elites could have used the above-mentioned legal and acceptable methods of getting their children into elite institutions. As far as why they did not, one explanation is that for some mere admission was not enough, their children had to believe that they earned their admission. It has also been claimed that status beyond that of mere admission was desired. The unfairness arises because the children did not earn their admission or their status by their merits, thus they might have unjustly taken the places of students who merited admission or status. While the parents did act unfairly, it is worth considering this unfairness within the broader context of our society.

As others have noted, the normal admission system is unfair. Children who are born to parents who lack wealth will generally live in poor neighborhoods and attend inferior schools. They will also have far less opportunity to engage in the application buffing activities available to the well-off. These children will also not be able to afford tutors, test preparation training, personal statement coaches and so on. They will also generally lack the connections that can influence admission. In contrast, children born into wealth will enjoy a cornucopia of advantages when it comes to admission.

It might be countered that some notable people did arise from poverty to attend elite institutions and go on to great success, while some people born into wealth have been academic and life losers. The easy and obvious reply is to note that such anecdotes are interesting but to point out that this is a matter of statistics. It is true that some people succeed despite the incredible odds, but the compelling nature of their story proves the general point: only the most exceptional or lucky people can make it out of poverty and reach the elites schools. If this was a common occurrence, such success would be unremarkable—as are the stories of how the wealthy elite get to attend elite schools.

In general, college admissions are like the rest of life. To use an analogy, both are like a race in which some people must run on foot, some get bikes, and some get cars. Some also get their own special starting lines that are far into the course. While one can certainly speak of the ability or merits of people in these races, the competition is fundamentally unfair in artificial and intentional ways. I do, obviously, recognize that people vary greatly in abilities. My point is, to stick to the analogy, that even the most talented runner is going to have a hard time competing with someone who gets to race with a car (especially if the parents or paid professionals are driving the car).

While the elites cheated, they cheated in an already unfair race. To continue the analogy, their children already got to start far into the course and were driving fast cars in competition with people forced to run or bike from a starting point far behind. These parents did do things analogous to cutting the course and using illegal modifications on their cars. While this certainly matters, it does not matter that much from the perspective of those who were already competing by running or biking. Again, I am not denying that people do vary in ability or that no one ever wins this race on foot or that no one crashes their metaphorical car. My point is that if fairness truly matters, then we should not just be outraged when the elites cheat in an unfair system, we should be outraged by the unfair system.

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Politics & Public Educators

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A New Jersey teacher was accused of bringing politics into the classroom in the form of an anti-Trump t-shirt.  While the legality of the matter is up to the courts, this situation does raise an interesting moral problem about the free speech of public educators. As a professor at a state university, I am both an educator and a public employee, so this matter is relevant to me.

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One aspect of the moral concern is that the educator is a public employee and thus paid by the taxpayers and working in a public institution. While being employed by the state does not strip a person of their right to free expression, there are limits to this right. The most common example of a limit is, of course, about yelling fire in a theater when there is no fire.

Since public employees are paid by the taxpayers to do a job, it makes sense that they do not have the right to express their own political views to the public while on the clock. To use the obvious analogy, it would be absurd to claim that I have the right to try to sell my students my books during class time or office hours. Likewise, it would be absurd to say that I have the right to try to sell my politics to my students during class time or office hours. There is also the matter of professionalism—while I am on the clock, I am representing my institution and not myself. As such, I am obligated to distinguish between my own views and those of the institution.

It might be objected that elected public officials routinely use their offices to engage in political activities that benefit themselves and their party. As such, it is unfair to deny the same opportunity to other public employees. One obvious counter is that elected public officials are politicians, so politics is their job. That said, there are certainly moral concerns about politicians using public resources to campaign for their re-election or the elections of others; but this is more a matter of the use of public funds than a free-speech issue. As such, it seems morally acceptable to insist that public employees who do not hold political office, etc. to refrain from political activities while on the clock. But perhaps being an educator makes a difference.

On the one hand, it could be argued that even in political classes the educator does not have the right to preach their own politics to the students. After all, the function of the educator is to teach rather than preach. If a teacher takes a clear stance on a political issue, then students are pressured to accept (or at least act as if they accept) that view—especially if it somehow makes it into the grading process. There is also the concern that expressing political views will alienate students and thus harm their education. For example, a teacher who expresses anti-Trump views strongly in class, can create a hostile learning environment for students who like Trump (or simply dislike having their class politicized). The teacher has plenty of time outside of the classroom to express their views to people who are free to ignore them or speak back as equals; using class time to engage in politics would thus be wrong.

On the other hand, it can be argued that educators do not surrender their right of free expression and if they use it responsibly in the classroom, they have the right to express their political views. This view does have considerable appeal at the college level—professors are supposed to have positions on intellectual and academic issues, and these include political issues. This does become a matter of teaching/educational philosophy. One classic ideal is the professor as professor—advancing their positions on the academic issues and inviting students to engage them. Of course, this does involve the obvious problem with the power disparity and grades. Another classic ideal is the professor as neutral shoveler of theories and ideas—laying out all the various positions and letting the students decide which they like best. One problem with this is that such an approach does not help the students determine which theories and ideas are better—which would be an obvious problem in the context of engineering, math and science classes in which it is often assumed there must be a right answer that the professor is to convey to the students. This, of course, leads into the jungle of the dispute over which subjects are objective and which are not—a jungle far beyond the itinerary of this brief essay.

My practical solution to the problem in my own classes is to avoid endorsing/condemning any candidate (and not just because this would probably get me fired) and to stick to the general issues of politics. Since I do not want my students to simply repeat what they think I think on papers and tests, I am careful to present the positions fairly. If pressed for my opinion in class, I will refer to any writings I have done on the issues and note that they should not simply accept what I say. I also carefully point out that paper grades are not based on whether I like their position or not but based on how well they argue for their position. When I use examples of politicians (usually for fallacies and rhetoric) I do try to include examples across the spectrum. However, the party in power does tend to be the subject of more examples than the party out of power—which is to be expected.

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Sentencing Justice

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While there are many theories of punishment and these invite endless debate, there are some basic principles that seem quite plausible within the context of the political and moral philosophy of American thought.

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In general, it seems reasonable to accept (within this context) that punishments in the legal system need to be consistent, impartial and proportionate. Consistency in punishments requires that the same crimes be punished in the same manner and to the same degree, allowing for application of the principle of relevant difference. The need to allow for relevant difference is, of course, the fact that crimes are rarely identical and the differences between crimes of the same type can be relevant to sentencing. Naturally, one might insist that these differences would make for different crimes, but this can be considered by comparing relevantly similar crimes.

Impartiality requires that the same punishments be applied to people regardless of their race, religion, economic class and other such factors that are not relevant. Naturally, relevant differences can be justly applied—which can cause considerable debate over what is and is not relevant.

Proportionate punishment requires that, as the saying goes, the punishment fits the crime. This can also be applied across crimes. For example, since cocaine and crack are essentially the same sort of drug, any punishments for possessing or selling them should be the same regardless of whether the drug was cocaine or crack cocaine.

As should be expected, the American criminal justice system relentlessly fails to meet these basic principles. To illustrate this, I will make use of the case of Paul Manafort.

Manafort was, in a recent trial, sentenced to 47 months in prison for committing crimes amounting to millions of dollars. The judge regarded the sentencing guidelines, which recommended 19-24 years, as too harsh and elected for this far more lenient sentence. While it can certainly be argued that the guidelines are harsh, the general concern is whether the basic principles of justice are applied. As would be expected, they are not.

Manafort’s sentencing represents nicely the impact of being rich, white and connected on sentencing. In contrast, blacks receive 20% more time for the same crime as whites. It could be replied that blacks commit worse financial crimes or more financial crimes than white offenders and thus deserve the harsher sentences. While it is true that worse crimes should receive harsher punishment and that multiple crimes would thus result in more punishment it is not true that the 20% greater time is due to doing worse or more crimes. Black offenders are sentenced to harsher punishment for the same crimes. In fact, black offenders receive harsher punishment for lesser crimes, relative to white offenders.

For example, while Manafort was sentenced to 47 months for crimes amounting to millions of dollars, William Jefferson was sentenced to 13 years for crimes amounting to under $100,000. Jefferson is black.  There are many other noteworthy examples of black people sentenced to far more time for crimes less than or equal to Manafort’s misdeeds. Naturally, people can focus on each example and contend that there are differences between these sorts of cases and Manafort’s and contend that the difference in sentencing had nothing to do with his race (or wealth, class and connections). After all, no two cases will be strictly identical. However, it would be wildly implausible to argue that the differences between Jefferson’s and Manafort’s crimes are such that they warrant 13 years for less than $100,000 in crimes and 47 months for millions of dollars in crimes. The simple fact is that even in the context of white collar crimes, if there is white skin above the white collar the sentence is consistently less than if there is black skin above that white collar. This is clearly unjust.

 Drug crimes are also treated far more harshly even when the damage they do is far less than financial crimes. For example, the same judge who sentenced Manafort has sentenced a non-violent drug offender to 40 years in prison; the judge said that the guidelines gave him no choice. The same could be said of many other crimes—white collar financial crimes generally result in far less punishment than other offenses. This includes those that involve money. For example, shoplifting could result in six months to a year in jail (though this is rarely the case). In Florida, shoplifting more than $300 in merchandise is a felony and can be punished with up to five years in jail. As such, if someone steals an Xbox from a store in Florida, they could be sentenced to more time than Paul Manafort got for committing crimes amounting to millions of dollars. This is not likely, but it does show a fundamental injustice in how the justice system works.

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Is it Wrong to Provide Water to Migrants?

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While there are safe ways to enter the United States on the southern border, there are also areas of deadly desert. Crossing these areas is extremely dangerous and has resulted in the deaths of many migrants. As would be expected, some Americans have tried to aid those crossing these desolate areas by leaving water and other supplies. The Unitarian Universalist Church of Tucson has organized No More Deaths to provide such support and, as the name states, reduce the number of deaths.

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 This group seems to be on solid theological footing, following the guidance of Deuteronomy 10:18-19: “For the Lord your God…loves the strangers, providing them food and clothing.  You shall also love the stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.” However, rendering such aid has resulted in the arrest of some members. Four women from the group were sentenced for leaving water for migrants. They were not charged with providing humanitarian aid; rather they were charged with abandoning personal property and entering the area without a permit. While they got off with a fine and probation, Scott Warren was arrested and charged with a felony for harboring migrants—in this case, harboring was giving the migrants food and water.  While one cannot truly know what is in the hearts of others, No More Deaths seems to be dedicated to reducing the number of deaths among migrants trying to cross the border—as opposed to having some nefarious intent to smuggle in criminals. However, their actions are illegal—they are abandoning personal property (or littering) and rendering aid to people who are engaged in illegal attempts to cross the border. But what is illegal need not be immoral, so the question remains as to whether they are acting wrongly.

One interesting approach to this matter is to look at is a case of a religious group exercising their freedom of religion. Conservatives have been very supportive of companies that do not want to accept the birth control mandate of the Affordable Care Act and of business owners who do not want to provide goods and services for same sex couples getting married. If it is morally acceptable to grant exceptions to laws on religious grounds to allow for discrimination, then it would be odd to deny exceptions to laws on religious grounds to allow for rendering humanitarian aid—as commanded by God. However, there seems to be little conservative support for this religious liberty and what could be seen as religious persecution—people being arrested for trying to act upon their sincerely held beliefs.

The easy and obvious reply is to contend that religious exceptions are not granted in all cases and that while allowing people to refuse service to same sex couples is a matter of religious freedom, allowing people to aid those dying in the desert is not. In any case, my main concern as a philosopher is with the ethics of the matter rather than the religious aspects.

One approach to this issue is the utilitarian approach, that the ethics of an action depends on its consequences. On the face of it, providing water in the desert to people who are at risk of dying would seem to be morally right. After all, the water can prevent suffering and death, and this seems to be obviously good. One could also use the golden rule: if I was dying in the desert, I would want someone else to render me aid. As such, it would be immoral of me to deny aid to others. Another approach is to embrace deontological ethics, that there is an obligation to aid others who are in need. All of these approaches would indicate that providing water would be the right thing to do. They can, however, be countered.

The utilitarian approach in favor of providing water can be countered by contending that providing water does more harm than good. One possible argument would involve trying to show that providing water encourages migrants to try to cross the border in dangerous areas, thus increasing their chance of suffering and dying. Another approach would be to argue that providing such aid encourages migrants to cross the border illegally, perhaps because they think Americans are generous and welcoming. The obvious counter is that migrants obviously try to cross the border even without the hope that Americans will provide water and without being tricked into thinking Americans are generous and welcoming by water bottles in the desert. As such, targeting people providing water would not deter migration; it would simply result in more suffering and death. Some claim that this is the intended consequence.

In reply to the golden rule, it could be pointed out that if I was a criminal, I would want others to aid me in my criminal endeavors—but it would not be right to do so. A reasonable counter to this is to contend that the people providing water are not aiding in committing a crime but trying to prevent deaths. To use an analogy, a doctor who patches up a wounded criminal to save their life is not aiding in a crime.

Deontology does provide a counter: one could argue that there is a duty to obey the law. The problem is, of course, that there are and have been many wicked laws. One cannot have a moral duty to do evil. But it could be argued that the laws used to prevent aid to migrants are just laws and should be obeyed, even in the face of death. After all, the migrants are breaking the law willingly—they are not compelled to enter the desert.

My own view is that providing water in the desert is morally acceptable because doing so will reduce human suffering and death. Since migrants cross the desert even without such aid, arresting people for providing humanitarian aid would not impact migration—except to the degree that doing so would increase the number of deaths. While the United States does have the right to control its borders, it does not have the right to use the desert to kill migrants trying to enter the country and it does not have the right to use such a threat to deter migration. As the bible notes, there are  moral obligations binding us together across national borders.

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