Category: Critical Thinking

As a philosopher, I became familiar with the notion of the modern political concept of privilege as a graduate student. This occurred sometimes in classes and sometimes when I was lectured by other students about my privileges as a white man. Lest anyone think I was exploiting my privileges, the lectures were always about my being a man and my general appearance of whiteness (I am only mostly white) as opposed to any misdeed I had committed. I was generally sympathetic to most criticisms of privilege, but I recognized that it is a fallacy to use a person’s membership in a privileged class as grounds for rejecting their claims. Back then, there was no handy phrase to check a member of a privileged class. Fortunately (or unfortunately) such a phrase emerged: “check your privilege!” Thanks to the victory of the right, this phrase is used less often these days. But as the right has been adept at adopting the tools of the left, I would expect them to have a variation on this to use against those who, in fact, lack privilege.

The original intent of the phrase was to remind someone making a claim on a political (or moral) issue that they are speaking from a position of privilege, such as being a male or straight. While it is most used against members of the traditional privileged classes (males, whites, the wealthy, etc.) it can also be employed against people of classes that are either privileged relative to the classes they are commenting on or in a different non-privileged class. For example, a Latina might be told to “check her privilege” for making a remark about black women. In this case, the idea is to remind the transgressors that different oppressed groups experience their oppression differently.

As might be imagined, some take issue with being told to “check their privilege.” In some cases, this can be mere annoyance with the phrase. This annoyance can have some foundation, given that the phrase can have a hostile connotation, and it can seem like a dismissive reply. But to be fair and balanced, it is no doubt exhausting arguing with the privileged and having a quick reply can save time and effort.

In other cases, the use of the phrase can be taken as an attempt to silence. Roughly put, “check your privilege” can be interpreted as “stop talking” or even as “you are wrong because you belong to a privileged class.” In some cases, people are interpreting the use incorrectly; the privileged are often very defensive and can, oddly, see themselves as the “real victims.”

Thus, the phrase can be seen as having two main functions (in addition to its dramatic and rhetorical use). One is as a reminder, the other is as an attack. I will consider each of these in the context of critical thinking.

The reminder function of the phrase is grounded in a real need to remind people of two common cognitive biases, namely in group bias and attribution error. In group bias is the tendency people have to easily form negative opinions of people who are not in their group. This bias leads people to see members of their own group more positively while seeing members of other groups more negatively. For example, a rich person might think that other rich people are hardworking while thinking poor people are lazy, thieving and inclined to use drugs. As another example, a woman might regard her fellow women as kind and altruistic while regarding men as violent, sex-crazed and selfish.

Given the power of this bias, it is worth reminding people about it, especially when their remarks show signs that this bias is likely to be in effect. Of course, telling someone to “check their privilege” might not be the nicest way to engage in the discussion and it is less specific than “consider that you might be influenced by in group bias.” But an insistence on “niceness” or “civility” is often a tool used to silence critics, so I understand why people would not be inclined to be “civil.” After all, “civil” can often be intended to mean “know your place” or “shut up.”

Attribution error is a bias that leads people to not appreciate that other people are as constrained by events and circumstances as they would be if they were in their situation. For example, consider a discussion about requiring voters to have a photo ID, reducing the number of polling stations and reducing their hours of operation. A person who is somewhat well off might claim that getting an ID and driving across town to a polling station on his lunch break is no problem—because it is no problem for him. However, for someone who does not have a car and is poor, these can be serious obstacles. As another example, someone who is rich might express the view that the poor should not be helped because they are obviously poor because they are lazy (and not because of the circumstances they face, such as being born into poverty).

Given the power of this bias, a person who seems to make this error should be reminded of this. But telling them to “check their privilege” might not be the most diplomatic way to engage and it is certainly less specific than pointing out the likely error. But, given the limits of social media, it might be a viable option when used in this context.

But using it to silence a person or to reject the person’s claim would not be justified. While it is reasonable to consider the effects of biases, to reject a person’s claim because of their membership in a class would be an ad hominen.  An ad hominem is a general category of fallacies in which a claim or argument is rejected based on some irrelevant fact about the author of or the person presenting the claim or argument. Typically, this fallacy involves two steps. First, an attack against the character of person making the claim, her circumstances, or her actions are made (or the character, circumstances, or actions of the person reporting the claim). Second, this attack is taken to be evidence against the claim or argument the person in question is making (or presenting). But such attacks are irrelevant to the person’s claim, whether it is a traditional ad hominem or a “check your privilege” attack.

 

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The rise of social media created a new world for social researchers. One focus has been on determining how quickly and broadly emotions spread online. Over a decade ago, researchers at Beijing University found that rage spread the fastest and farthest online. Researchers in the United States found that anger was a speed leader, but not the fastest in the study: awe was even faster than rage. But rage was quite fast. As might be expected, sadness was a slow spreader and had a limited expansion.

This research helped explain how social media made the world worse. Rage tends to be a strong motivator and sadness tends to be a de-motivator. The power of awe was an interesting finding, but some reflection shows this does make sense—it tends to move people to want to share. IRL, think of people eagerly drawing the attention of strangers to things like beautiful sunsets, impressive feats or majestic animals.

In general, awe is a positive emotion, and it seems to be a good thing that it travels far and wide on the internet. Rage can be a mixed bag but has largely proven to be a negative influence.

When people share their rage via social media, they are sharing with an intent to express (“I am angry!”) and to infect others with this rage (“you should be angry, too!”). Rage, like many infectious agents, also has the effect of weakening the host’s “immune system.” In the case of anger, the immune system is reason and emotional control. Anger tends to suppress reason and lower emotional control. This makes people even more vulnerable to rage and susceptible to the classic fallacy of appeal to anger. This is the fallacy in which a person accepts anger as proof that a claim is true. Roughly put, the person “reasons” like this: “this makes me angry, so it is true.” This infection also renders people susceptible to related emotions (and fallacies), such as fear (and appeal to force).

Because of these qualities of anger, it is easy for untrue claims to be accepted far and wide via the internet. This is, obviously enough, the negative side of anger.  Anger can also be positive—to use an analogy, it can be like a cleansing fire that sweeps away brambles.

For anger to be a positive factor, it would need to be a virtuous anger (to follow Aristotle). Put a bit simply, it would need to be the right degree of anger, felt for the right reasons and directed at the right target. This sort of anger can mobilize people to do good. As a recent example, people were outraged by the actions of Trump’s ICE. In response, people protested and ICE started murdering citizens. This caused more protests and the Trump regime changed its tactics.

The challenge is, of course, to distinguish between warranted and unwarranted anger. This is a serious challenge—as noted above, people tend to feel that they are right because they are angry rather than inquiring as to whether their rage is justified or not.

It is wise to follow the advice of Aristotle and consider whether the anger is at the right people, at the right time, for the right reasons and to the right degree. But anger, ironically, makes it hard to engage in such assessment.

 

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The assuming an authority of dictating to others, and a forwardness to prescribe to their opinions, is a constant concomitant of this bias and corruption of our judgments. For how almost can it be otherwise, but that he should be ready to impose on another’s belief, who has already imposed on his own? Who can reasonably expect arguments and conviction from him in dealing with others, whose understanding is not accustomed to them in his dealing with himself? Who does violence to his own faculties, tyrannizes over his own mind, and usurps the prerogative that belongs to truth alone, which is to command assent by only its own authority, i.e. by and in proportion to that evidence which it carries with it.

-John Locke

 

As a philosophy professor who focuses on the practical value of philosophical thinking, one of my objectives is teaching students to be critical thinkers. As I see it, critical thinking is the rational process of determining whether a claim should be accepted as true, rejected or false or subject to the suspension of judgment. A critical thinker operates on the principle that belief in a claim should be proportional to the evidence for it, rather than in proportion to  interests or feelings. In this I follow John Locke’s view: “Whatsoever credit or authority we give to any proposition more than it receives from the principles and proofs it supports itself upon, is owing to our inclinations that way, and is so far a derogation from the love of truth as such: which, as it can receive no evidence from our passions or interests, so it should receive no tincture from them.”

Unfortunately, people often fail to follow this principle in important matters such as climate change and vaccinations. They reject proofs and evidence in favor of interests and passions.

Even though the scientific evidence for climate change is overwhelming, there are those who deny it. These people are typically conservatives—although there is nothing about conservatism itself that requires denying climate change.

While rejecting scientific evidence for climate change can be seen as irrational, it is easy to attribute a rational motive to this view. After all, there are people who have an economic interest in denying it or preventing action from being taken that is contrary to their interests. This interest provides a motive to make claims that one knows are not true as well as a psychological impetus to sincerely hold a false belief. As such, climate change denial can make sense even in the face of overwhelming evidence: money is stake. However, denial is less rational for most climate change deniers—they are not profiting greatly from the fossil fuel business. However, they could be motivated by financial concerns because addressing climate change could raise their energy bills. Of course, not addressing climate change will cost them much more.

I understand climate change denial in that I have a sensible narrative as to why people reject science because of their interests. However, I was much more confused by the vaccine skeptics.

While vaccines are not risk free, the scientific evidence is overwhelming that they are safe and effective. Scientists understand how they work and there is extensive empirical evidence of their positive impact—such as the massive reduction in cases of diseases such as polio and measles. Oddly, there is significant number of Americans who willfully deny the science of vaccination. What struck me as most unusual is that some of these people are college educated. While MAHA has embraced vaccine skepticism, political liberals are also vaccine skeptics, thus showing that science denial can be bi-partisan. It is fascinating, but also horrifying, to see someone walk through the process of denial—as shown in an old segment on the Daily Show. This process is complex: evidence is rejected, experts are dismissed and so on—it is as if the person’s mind switched into a Bizzaro version of critical thinking (“kritikal tincing” perhaps). This is in marked contrast with the process of rational disagreement using  critical thinking  to support an opposing viewpoint. Being a philosopher, I value rational disagreement and I am careful to give opposing views their due. However, the use of fallacious methods and outright rejection of rational methods of reasoning is not an acceptable method.

As noted above, climate change denial makes sense—behind the denial is a clear economic interest. However, vaccine science denial seems to lack that motive for most people (although not everyone). As such, an alternative explanation is needed for those who aren’t vaccine skeptics for the purposes of grifting.

Some research provides insight into the matter and it is consistent with Locke’s view that people are influenced by both interests and passions. In this case, the motivating passion seems to be a person’s commitment to their concept of self. When a person’s self-concept or self-identity is threatened by facts, they will reject facts in favor of identity.  In the case of the vaccine skeptics, the belief that vaccines are harmful has become part of their self-identity. Or so goes the theory as to why these deniers reject the evidence.

To be effective, this rejection must be more than asserting the facts are wrong. After all, the person is aiming at self-deception to maintain self-identity. As such, the person must create a narrative which makes their rejection seem sensible and believable to them. A denier must, as Pascal said about his famous wager, make themselves believe their denial. In the case of science, a person needs to reject not just claims made by scientists but also the scientific method. The narrative of denial must be a complete story that protects itself from criticism. This is, obviously enough, different from a person who denies a claim based on evidence—since there is rational support for the denial, there is no need to create a narrative tale.

This is a major danger of this sort of denial—not the denial of established facts, but the explicit rejection of the methodology  used to assess facts. While people often excel at compartmentalization, this strategy runs the risk of corrupting the person’s thinking across the board.

As noted above, as a philosopher one of my main tasks is to train people to think critically and rationally. While I would like to believe that everyone can be taught to be an effective and rational thinker, I know that people are far more swayed by rhetoric and fallacious reasoning then by good logic. As such, there might be little hope that people can be “cured” of their rejection of science and reasoning. Aristotle took this view—while noting that some people can be convinced by “arguments and fine ideals” most people cannot. He advocated the use of coercive habituation to get them to behave properly and this could (and has) been employed to correct incorrect beliefs. However, such a method is agnostic in regard to the truth—people can be coerced into accepting the false as well as the true.

Interestingly, a past study by Brendan Nyhan shows that reason and persuasion both fail when employed in attempts to change false beliefs that are critical to a person’s self-identity. In the case of Nyhan’s study, there were various attempts to change the beliefs of vaccine science deniers using reason (facts and science) and various methods of persuasion (appeals to emotions and anecdotes). Since reason and persuasion are the two main ways to convince people, this is a problem.

That study and other research did indicate an avenue that might work. Assuming that it is the threat to a person’s self-concept that triggers the rejection mechanism, the solution is to approach a person in a way that does not trigger this response. It is like trying to conduct a transplant without triggering the body’s immune system to reject the transplanted organ.

One obvious problem is that once a person has taken a false belief as part of their self-concept, it is difficult to get them to see any attempt to change their mind as anything other than a threat. Addressing this might require changing the person’s self-concept or finding a specific strategy that is not seen as a threat. Once that is done, the second stage, that of addressing the false belief, can begin.

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 People want to gain as much as they can for as little effort as possible. For example, people seem to buy exercise equipment thinking it will make exercise easier. They usually find out that is not the case—thus the trade in barely used exercise equipment that spent its time buried under clothes. Years ago, brain training games were all the rage. The appeal was, of course, that the games were supposed to fun rather than burdensome, unliked education. The question was whether such games worked.

The idea that playing brain games can have positive effects makes sense. After all, exercising the body improves it. By analogy, the same should hold for the brain. The obvious concern is that not everything that people think is exercise improves the body. Likewise, some brain games might be like useless exercises for the body: you are doing something, but it is having no significant effect. To address this matter, the thing to do is to turn to science.

As it stands, the research showed that the commercial brain training games had no meaningful impact. While people do get better at the games, this is most likely due to familiarity. For example, I used to play World of Warcraft and I “got good” at boss fights by doing them repeatedly until I was familiar with the mechanisms. While there is some skill transference between fights, I found I had to learn each boss to “get good.” The same generally holds for brain games and getting better at such a game does not entail that one is smarter or more mentally capable.

Fortunately for me, video games of the more “traditional” sort can improve memory and mental skills. This is not surprising as they typically present challenges analogous to those in the real world. As such, rather than simply focusing on a simple game that is narrowly focused, the gamer is forced to fully engage the general challenge and develop a broader set of capabilities. As such, video games of this sort probably help improve mental abilities in a way analogous to how reality does: you improve skills that have a general application. In the case of video games, the challenges will tend to be more challenging and more frequent than what a person would generally encounter in the real world. For example, participating in a World of Warcraft dungeon or raid involves tracking abilities, maintaining situational awareness, following (or giving) orders, using strategy and so on. That is, it provides a mental workout. So, a person looking for games to make her smarter would be better off getting a gaming console or PC and selecting challenging games. They will probably be much more fun than most brain games and apparently more effective.

That said, there are certain brain games that do seem to have a positive benefit. One promising example is a speed training game that seems to help reduce the risk of developing Alzheimer’s and other types of dementia.

I would also like to put in a plug for traditional tabletop games as well—be they games like Risk or role-playing games like D&D. They can provide enjoyable challenges that seem to have a positive impact on cognitive abilities. Plus, they are social activities—and that is better for a person than playing solo brain games.

One cognitive bias is the tendency of a person to regard themself as better than average—even when there is no evidence for that belief. Surveys illustrate this bias: most Americans rank themselves as above average in everything ranging from leadership ability to accuracy in self-assessment.

Obviously, most people cannot be better than average—that is just how averages work. As to why people think the way they do, the disparity between what is claimed and what is the case can be explained in two ways. One is another cognitive bias, which is the tendency people have to believe their performance is better than it is. Teachers see this often—students generally believe that they did better on a test or paper than they really did. I have lost count of the number of students who have told me their papers “felt like an A.” I never doubted this; having felt the same thing about various C and D papers I wrote as a student. Given that people regard their own performance as better than it is, it certainly makes sense that they would see their abilities as better than average.

Another reason is yet another bias: people tend to give more weight to the negative over the positive. As such, when assessing other people, we tend to consider negative things about them as more significant than the positive. So, for example, when Sally is assessing the honesty of Bill, she will give more weight to incidents in which Bill was dishonest relative to those in which he was honest. So, Sally will probably see herself as being more honest than Bill. After enough comparisons, she will probably see herself as above average.

This self-delusion probably has some positive effects. It no doubt allows people to maintain a sense of worth. But there are downsides—after all, a person who does not do a good job assessing himself and others will be operating based on inaccurate information and this rarely leads to good decision making.

The better-than-average delusion holds up well even in the face of clear evidence to the contrary. For example, the British Journal of Social Psychology did a survey of British prisoners asking them to compare themselves to other prisoners and the general population in terms of such traits as honesty, compassion, and trustworthiness. Not surprisingly, the prisoners ranked themselves as above average. They did, however, only rank themselves as average when it came to the trait of law-abidingness. This suggests that reality has some slight impact on people, but not as much as one might hope.

 

Negativity bias is the tendency to give more weight to the negative than the positive. For example, people tend to weigh wrongs done to them more heavily than the good deeds done for them. As another example, people tend to be more swayed by negative political advertisements than by positives ones. This bias can also have an impact on education.

Some years ago, one of my colleagues always asked his logic students if they planned to attend law school. When he noticed a dramatic decline in logic students planning on law school, curiosity led him to investigate. He found that logic had been switched from being a requirement for pre-law to just recommended. Back then, my colleague said it seemed irrational for students who planned on taking the LSAT to avoid the logic class, given that the LSAT was largely a logic test and that law school requires logical reasoning.  From his philosophical soap box, he said that students prefer to avoid the useful when it is not required and only grudgingly take what is required. We discussed how this relates to the negativity bias.  A student who did not take the logic class when it was required would be punished by being unable to graduate. When the class became optional, there remained only the positive benefits of taking the class. Since people weigh punishments more than rewards, this behavior made sense—but still seemed irrational. Especially since many of the students who skipped the logic class ended up paying for LSAT preparation classes to spackle over their lack of logic skills.

Over the years, I have seen a similar sort of thing in my own classes. My university had a policy that allowed us to lower a student’s grade if they missed too many classes. While attendance has always been required in my classes, I have never inflicted a punishment for missing class. Not surprisingly, when the students figure this out, attendance plummets. Before I started using Blackboard and Canvas for coursework, attendance would increase dramatically on test days. Now that all work can be done on Canvas (a relic of COVID), attendance remains consistently low. Oddly, students often say my classes are interesting and useful. But, since there is no direct and immediate punishment for not attending (just a delayed “punishment” in terms of lower grades and a lack of learning), many students are not motivated to attend class.

I do consider I might be a bad professor or that most students see philosophy courses as useless or boring. However, my evaluations are consistently good, former students have returned to say good things about me and my classes, and so on. That said, perhaps I am deluding myself and being humored. That said, it is easy enough to draw an analogy to exercise: exercise does not provide immediate rewards and there is no immediate punishment for not staying fit—just a loss of benefits. Most people elect to avoid exercise. This and similar things show that people often avoid that which is difficult now but yields lasting benefits latter.

I have, of course, often considered adopting the punishment model for my classes. However, I have resisted this for a variety of reasons. The first is my personality: I am inclined to offer benefits rather than punishments. This is an obvious flaw given the general psychology of people. The second is that I believe in free choice: like God, I think people should be free to make bad choices and not be coerced into doing what is right. It must be a free choice. Naturally, choosing poorly brings its own punishment—albeit later. The third is the hassle of dealing with attendance: the paperwork, having to handle excuses, hearing poorly crafted lies, and so on. The fourth is the that classes are generally better for the good students when people who do not want to be there elect to do something else. The fifth is my moral and religious concern for my students: if they are not punished for missing classes, there is no reason to lie to me about what they missed. Finally, COVID changed things and if I punished students for not attending, too many students would end up failing simply because of not attending enough.

I did consider adopting the punishment model for three reasons. One is that if students are compelled to attend, they might learn something and I do worry that by not compelling them, I am doing them a disservice. The second is that this model is a lesson for what the workplace will be like for most of the students—so habituating them to this (or, rather, keeping the habituation they should have acquired in K-12) could be valuable. After all, they will probably need to endure awful jobs until they retire or die. The third is that perhaps people must be compelled by punishment—this is, of course, the model put forth by thinkers like Aristotle and Hobbes. But I will almost certainly stick with my flawed approach until I retire.

As a runner, I have been accused of being a masochist or at least possessing masochistic tendencies. As I routinely subject myself to pain and my previous essay about running and freedom was pain focused, this is hardly surprising. Other runners, especially those masochistic ultra-marathon runners, are often accused of masochism.

In some cases, the accusation is not serious. Usually, people just observe that runners do things that both hurt and make little sense to nonrunners. However, some see runners as masochists in a strict sense. Being a runner and a philosopher, I find this interesting, especially when I am the one accused of being a masochist.

Some do accuse runners of being masochists with some seriousness. While some say runners are masochists in jest or with some respect for the toughness of runners, it is sometimes presented as an accusation: that there is something wrong with runners and running is deviant behavior. While runners do like to joke about being odd and different, we probably prefer to not be seen as mentally ill deviants. After all, that would indicate that we are doing something wrong—which I believe is (usually) not the case. Based on my experience and meeting thousands of runners, I think that runners are generally not masochists.

Given that runners engage in painful activities (such as speed work and racing marathons) and that they often run despite injuries, it is tempting to believe they are masochists and that I am in denial about our collective deviance.

While this does have some appeal, it rests on a confusion about masochism in terms of means and ends. For the masochist, pain is a means to the end of pleasure. The masochist does not seek pain for the sake of pain, but seeks pain to achieve pleasure. However, there is a special connection between the means of pain and the end of pleasure: for the masochist, the pleasure they desire is that which is generated specifically by pain. While a masochist can get pleasure by other means (such as drugs, cake or drug cakes), it is the desire for pleasure caused by pain that defines the masochist. So, the pain is not optional—mere pleasure is not the end, but pleasure caused by pain.

This is different from those who endure pain as part of achieving an end, be that end pleasure or some other end. For those who endure pain to achieve an end, the pain can be part of the means or, more accurately, as an effect of the means. It is valuing the end that causes the person to endure the pain to achieve the end—the pain is not sought out as being the “proper cause” of the end. In the case of the masochist, the pain is not endured to achieve an end—it is the “proper cause” of the end, which is pleasure.

In the case of running, runners usually see pain as something to be endured as part of the process of achieving their desired ends, such as fitness or victory. However, runners usually prefer to avoid pain when they can. For example, while I endure pain to run a race, I prefer running with as little pain as possible. This is like a person putting up with the unpleasant aspects of a job to make money—but they would prefer as little unpleasantness as possible. After all, she is in it for the money, not the unpleasant aspects of work. Likewise, a runner is typically running for some other end (or ends) than hurting herself.  It just so happens that achieving that end (or ends) requires doing things that cause pain.

In my essay on running and freedom, I described how I endured pain while running the Tallahassee Half Marathon. If I were a masochist, experiencing pleasure by means of that pain would have been my primary end. However, my primary end was to run the half marathon well and the pain was an obstacle to that end. As such, I would have been glad to have had a painless start and I was pleased when the pain diminished. I enjoy the running and I do enjoy overcoming pain, but I do not enjoy the pain itself—hence the aspirin in my medicine cabinet.

While I cannot speak for all runners, my experience is that runners do not run for pain, they run despite the pain. Thus, we are not masochists. We might, however, show some poor judgment when it comes to pain and injury—but that is another matter. But I would suggest to any masochists that they do take up running, as running is really good for a person.

In the previous essay I discussed how to assess experts. While people argue based on the views of experts, they also make arguments based on studies (and experiments). While using a study in an argument is reasonable, making a good argument based on a study requires being able to rationally assess studies.

Not surprisingly, people often select the studies they believe based on fallacious reasoning. One erroneous approach is to favor a study simply because it agrees with what one already believes. The mistake is that to infer a study is right because I believe the results gets things backwards. It should be first established that study is plausible, then it is reasonable for me to believe it.

Another erroneous approach is to accept a study as correct because one wants it to be so. For example, a liberal might accept a study that claims to prove that liberals are smarter and more generous than conservatives.  This sort of “reasoning” is the classic fallacy of wishful thinking. Wishing that something is true (or false) does not prove that the claim is true (or false).

Sometimes people attempt DIY “studies” by appealing to their own anecdotes. For example, someone might claim that poor people are lazy based on an experience with some poor person. While anecdotes can be interesting, taking an anecdote as evidence is to fall victim to the classic fallacy of anecdotal evidence.

While fully assessing a study requires expertise in the relevant field, non-experts can still make rational evaluations. The following provides a concise guide to evaluating studies and experiments.

In normal talk, people often jam together studies and experiments. While this is fine for informal purposes, the distinction is important. A properly done controlled cause-to-effect experiment is the gold standard of research, although it is not always a viable option.

The objective of such an experiment is to determine the effect of a cause and this is done by the following general method. First, a random sample is selected from the population. Second, the sample is split into two groups: the experimental group and the control group. The two groups need to be as alike as possible and the more alike the two groups, the better the experiment.

The experimental group is then exposed to the causal agent while the control group is not. Ideally, that should be the only difference between the groups. The experiment then runs its course, and the results are examined to determine if there is a statistically significant difference between the two. If there is such a difference, then it is reasonable to infer that the causal factor brought about the difference.

Assuming that the experiment was conducted properly, whether the results are statistically significant depends on the size of the sample and the difference between the control group and experimental group. The idea is that experiments with smaller samples are less able to reliably capture effects. As such, when considering whether an experiment shows there is a causal connection it is important to know the size of the sample. After all, the difference between the experimental and control groups might be large but not significant. For example, imagine an experiment that involves 10 people. 5 people get a diet drug (experimental group) while 5 do not (control group). Suppose that those in the experimental group lose 30% more weight than those in the control group. While this might seem impressive, it is not statistically significant: the sample is so small, the difference could be due entirely to chance.

While the experiment is the gold standard, there are cases in which it would be impractical, impossible or unethical to conduct an experiment. For example, exposing people to pathogens to test their effects would be immoral. In such cases studies are used rather than experiments.

One type of study is the Nonexperimental Cause-to-Effect Study. Like the experiment, it is intended to determine the effect of a cause. The difference between the experiment and this sort of study is that those conducting the study do not expose the experimental group to the suspected cause. Rather, those selected for the experimental group were exposed to the suspected cause by their own actions or by circumstances. For example, a study of this sort might include people who were exposed to pathogens by accident. A control group is then matched to the experimental group and, as with the experiment, the more alike the groups are, the better the study.

After the study has run its course, the results are compared to see if there is a statistically significant difference between the two groups. As with the experiment, merely having a large difference between the groups need not be statistically significant.

Since a study of this sort relies on using an experimental group that was exposed to the suspected cause by the actions of those in the group or by circumstances, the study is weaker (less reliable) than the cause to effect experiment. After all, in the study the researchers must take what they can find rather than conducting a proper experiment.

In some cases, what is known is the effect and what is not known is the cause. For example, we might know that there is a new illness but not know what is causing it. In these cases, a Nonexperimental Effect-to-Cause Study can be used to try to sort things out.

Since this is a study rather than an experiment, those in the experimental group were not exposed to the suspected cause by those conducting the study. In fact, the cause is not known, so those in the experimental group are those showing the effect.

Since this is an effect-to-cause study, the effect is known, but the cause must be determined. This is done by running the study and determining if there is a statistically significant suspected causal factor. If such a factor is found, then that can be tentatively taken as a causal factor—one that will probably require additional study. As with the other study and experiment, the statistical significance of the results depends on the size of the study, which is why a study of adequate size is important.

Of the three methods, the effect-to-cause study is the weakest (least reliable). One reason for this is that those showing the effect might be different in important ways from the rest of the population. For example, a study that links cancer of the mouth to chewing tobacco would involve the complication that those who chew tobacco are often ex-smokers. As such, smoking might be the actual cause rather than the chewing. To sort this out would involve a study involving chewers who are not ex-smokers.

It is also worth referring to my essay on experts—when assessing a study, it is also important to consider the quality of the experts conducting the study. If those conducting the study are biased, lack expertise, and so on, then the study would be less credible. If those conducting it are proper experts, then that increases the credibility of the study.

As a final point, there is also a reasonable concern about psychological effects. If an experiment or study involves people, what people think can influence the results. For example, if an experiment is conducted and one group knows it is getting pain medicine, the people might be influenced to think they are feeling less pain. To counter this, the common approach is a blind study/experiment in which the participants do not know which group they are in, often by the use of placebos. For example, an experiment with pain medicine would include “sugar pills” for those in the control group.

Those conducting the experiment can also be subject to psychological influences—especially if they have a stake in the outcome. As such, there are studies/experiments in which those conducting the research do not know which group is which until the end. In some cases, neither the researchers nor those in the study/experiment know which group is which—this is a double-blind experiment/study.

Overall, here are some key questions to ask when assessing a study:

 

  • Was the study/experiment properly conducted?
  • Was the sample size large enough?
  • Were the results statistically significant?
  • Were those conducting the study/experiment experts?

The argument from authority is a weak, but useful argument if used correctly. While people rarely follow the “strict” form of the argument, using it is to infer that a claim is true based on the (alleged) expertise of the person making the claim. Unlike deductive logic, the quality of an argument from authority does not depend on its logical structure but the quality of the expert making the claim. As a practical matter, anyone could be used as an “expert” in an argument from authority.  For example, someone might claim that secondhand smoke does not cause cancer because Michael Crichton claimed that it does not. At least he did before he died. As another example, someone might claim that astral projection/travel is real because Michael Crichton also claims it can occur. Given that people often disagree, it is also quite common to find that alleged experts disagree with each other. For example, most medical experts claim that secondhand smoke does cause cancer. They do not, of course, claim that everyone who is exposed to it will get cancer or that no one who is not exposed to it will not get cancer. This is a claim about causation in populations: if everyone was exposed to secondhand smoke, then there would be more cases of cancer than if no one was.

If you are an expert in a field, you can pick between the other experts by using your own expertise. For example, a medical doctor who is trying to decide whether to believe that secondhand smoke causes cancer can examine the literature and perhaps even conduct her own studies. Being an (actual) expert means being qualified to make an informed pick. An obvious problem is, of course, that experts pick different experts to accept as being correct.

The problem is far greater when it involves non-experts trying to pick between experts (and perhaps alleged experts). Being non-experts, they lack the expertise to make informed choices about which expert is most likely to be right. This raises the question of how to pick between experts when you are not an expert.

Not surprisingly, people tend to pick based on fallacious reasoning. One approach is to pick an expert because she agrees with what you already believe. This is not good reasoning: to infer that something is true simply because I believe it gets things backwards. It should be first established that a claim is probably true, then it should be believed (with appropriate reservations).

Another common approach is to believe an expert because they make a claim you want to be true. For example, a smoker might elect to believe someone who claims secondhand smoke does not cause cancer because he does not want to believe he might increase the chance that his kids will get cancer. This “reasoning” is the fallacy of wishful thinking. Obviously enough, wishing that something is true (or false) does not prove that the claim is true (or false).

People also pick their expert based on qualities they see as positive but that are irrelevant to the person’s (logical) credibility. Factors such as height, gender, appearance, age, personality, religion, political party, wealth, friendliness, backstory, courage, and so on can influence people emotionally, but are not relevant to assessing a person’s expertise.  For example, a person giving you advice about warts might be very likeable but be completely wrong about how warts should be treated.  

Fortunately, there standards for recognizing an expert. They are as follows.

 

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

Claims made by a person who lacks the needed degree of expertise to make a reliable claim will not be well supported. In contrast, a person who has expertise in a subject is more likely to be right about claims in their field. The challenge is being able to judge whether a person has sufficient expertise. In general, the question is whether a person has the relevant qualities and these are assessed in terms of such factors as education, experience, reputation, accomplishments and positions.

 

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

If a person makes a claim about a subject outside of their expertise, then their expertise does not apply. Hence, the claim is not backed by the expertise and is not reliable. People often mistake expertise in one area (or being a celebrity) for expertise in another area. For example, an expert physicist’s claims about politics or ethics are not backed up by their expertise in physics. A person can be an expert in more than one field and there are cases where expertise in one field can be relevant in another. For example, a physicist who is also a professional ethicist would be an expert in both fields. As another example, a physicist’s expertise in nuclear weapons could be relevant to claims made in politics or ethics about nuclear weapons.

 

  1. The claims made by the expert are consistent with the views of the majority of qualified experts in the field.

This is a very important factor. As a rule, a claim that is held as correct by the majority of qualified experts in the field is the most plausible claim. The majority of experts are more likely to be right than those who disagree with the majority.

As no field has complete agreement, a degree of dispute is acceptable. How much is acceptable is, of course, a matter of serious debate.

It is also important to be aware that the majority could be wrong. That said, it is reasonable for non-experts to go with the majority opinion because non-experts are, by definition, not experts. If I am not an expert in a field, I would be hard pressed to justify picking the expert I happen to like or agree with against the view of the majority of experts.

 

  1. The person in question is not significantly biased.

 Experts, being people, are subject to biases and prejudices.  If someone is biased  in a way that would affect the reliability of their claims, then their credibility is reduced. This is because there would be reason to believe that the claim is being made because of bias or prejudice. For example, an expert being paid by an oil company who claims that fossil fuels are not causing climate change would be biased. But a biased expert’s claims could still be correct.

No one  is completely objective and a person will favor their own views. Because of this, some degree of bias must be accepted, provided that the bias is not significant. What counts as a significant degree of bias is open to dispute and can vary from case to case. For example, most would suspect that researchers who receive funding from pharmaceutical companies will be biased while others might claim that the money would not sway them if the drugs proved ineffective or harmful.

Disagreement over bias can itself be a significant dispute. For example, those who doubt that climate change is real often assert that the climate experts are biased. Questioning an expert based on potential bias is a legitimate approach—if there is adequate evidence of bias that would be strong enough to unduly influence them One way to look for bias is to consider whether the expert is interested or disinterested. Or, more metaphorically, to consider whether they have “skin in the game” and stand to gain (or suffer a loss) from their claim being accepted as true. Merely disagreeing with an expert is, obviously, not proof that an expert is biased. Vague accusations that the expert has “liberal” or “conservative” views also do not count as adequate evidence. What is needed is actual evidence of bias. Anything else is most likely a mere ad homimen attack.

These standards are not infallible. However, they do provide a guide to logically picking an expert to believe. They are certainly more logical than just picking the one who says things one likes.

 

 

Doubling down occurs when a person is confronted with evidence against a belief and their belief, rather than being weakened, is strengthened.A plausible explanation of doubling down rests on Leon Festinger’s classic theory of cognitive dissonance. When a person has a belief that is threatened by evidence, she has two main choices. The first is to adjust her belief in accord with the evidence. If the evidence is plausible and strongly supports the inference that the belief is false, then it is rational to reject the old belief. If the evidence is not plausible or does not strongly support the inference that the belief is false then it is rational to stick with the threatened belief on the grounds that the threat is not much of a threat.

Assessment of what is plausible evidence can be problematic. In general terms, assessing evidence involves considering how it matches one’s own observations, one’s background information, and credible sources. This assessment can push the matter back: the evidence for the evidence also needs to be assessed, which fuels classic skeptical arguments about the impossibility of knowledge. Every belief must be assessed, which leads to an infinite regress, thus making knowing whether a belief is true impossible. Naturally, retreating into skepticism will not help when a person is responding to evidence against a beloved belief (unless the beloved belief is a skeptical one)—the person wants her beloved belief to be true. As such, someone defending a beloved belief needs to accept that there is some support for the belief—even if the basis is faith or revelation.

In terms of assessing the reasoning, this is objective if it is deductive logic.  Deductive logic is such that if an argument is doing what it is supposed to do (be valid), then if the premises are true, then the conclusion must be true. Deductive arguments can be assessed by such things as truth tables, Venn diagrams and proofs; thus, the reasoning is objectively good or bad. Inductive reasoning is different. While the premises of an inductive argument are supposed to support the conclusion, inductive arguments are such that true premises only make (at best) the conclusion likely to be true. Inductive arguments vary in strength and while there are standards for assessing them, reasonable people can disagree about the strength of an inductive argument. People can also embrace skepticism here, specifically the problem of induction: even when an inductive argument has all true premises and the reasoning is as good as inductive reasoning gets, the conclusion could still be false. The obvious problem with trying to defend a beloved belief with the problem of induction is that it also cuts against the beloved belief—while any inductive argument against the belief could have a false conclusion, so could any inductive argument for it. As such, a person who wants to hold to a beloved belief in a way that is justified would seem to need to accept argumentation. Naturally, a person can embrace other ways of justifying beliefs—the challenge is showing that these ways should be accepted. This would seem, ironically, to require argumentation.

A second option is to reject the evidence without honestly assessing it and rationally considering the logic of the arguments. If a belief is very important to a person, perhaps even central to her identity, then the cost of giving up the belief would be very high. If the person thinks (or feels) that the evidence and reasoning cannot be engaged fairly without risking the belief, then the person can reject the evidence and reasoning using various techniques of self-deception and bad logic (fallacies serve well here).

 This rejection has less psychological cost than engaging the evidence and reasoning but is not always consequence free. Since the person probably has some awareness of their self-deception, it needs to be psychologically “justified”, and this results in a strengthening of the commitment to the belief. There are many cognitive biases that help here, such as confirmation bias (seeking, interpreting, and remembering information to confirm existing beliefs) and other forms of motivated reasoning. These can be hard to defend against, since they derange the very mechanisms that are needed to avoid them.

One interesting way people “defend” beliefs is by categorizing the evidence against the beliefs and opposing arguments as unjust attacks, which strengthens their resolve in the face of perceived hostility. After all, people fight harder when they believe they are under attack. Some people even infer they must be right because they are being criticized. As they see it, if they were not right, people would not be trying to show that they are in error. One variation of this is when a person claims they must be right because everyone disagrees with them.

People also, as John Locke argued in his work on enthusiasm, take the strength of their feelings about a belief as evidence for its truth. When people are challenged, they often feel angry and this makes them feel even more strongly. Hence, when they “check” on the truth of the belief using the measure of feeling, they feel even stronger that it is true. However, how they feel about it (as Locke argued) is no indication of its truth. Or falsity.

As a closing point, one intriguing rhetorical tactic is to accuse a person who disagrees with you of being the one who is doubling down. This accusation, after all, comes with the insinuation that the person is irrationally holding to a false belief. A reasonable defense is to show that evidence and arguments are being used to support a belief. The unreasonable counter is to employ the very tactics of doubling down and refuse to accept such a response. That said, it is worth considering that one person’s double down is often another person’s considered belief. Or, as it might be put, I support my beliefs with facts and logic while my opponents double down.