Category: Critical Thinking

Prior to Trump’s first victory mainstream Republicans attacked and criticized. His victory not only silenced almost all his conservative critics most became fawning Trump loyalists. Lindsey Graham provides an excellent example of Trump’s transformative power: he was polymorphed from a savage attacker to Trump’s attack dog. Few dared oppose him during his first term, such as John McCain and Mitt Romney. But the Republicans in congress now act in accord with his will and whims. There are a few surviving conservative critics of Trump, but they have proven politically irrelevant. This does make sense, as Trump is the logical result of decades of GOP strategies and efforts. If the Republican party were a Pokemon, Trump would be the final evolution of the party.

The surrender and assimilation of the Republican leadership was not surprising; the party focused on winning and holding power rather than developing and advancing meaningful policy goals. Whatever ideology once defined the party has become a devotion to power for the sake of power and profit. Under Trump, all talk of a balanced budget, all worries about deficits and have ceased.  What is more interesting is the impact Trump has had on his followers.

When Joe Walsh  made a futile effort to challenge Trump for the Republican nomination. During his effort, he asked Trump supporters if Trump has every lied. They said that he had not. Walsh brought up Trump’s criticism of Obama playing golf and Trump’s claim that he would be too busy as president to play golf. While most people did not care about, some insisted Trump had never played golf as president. His supporters also believed that hundreds of miles of the wall had been built and paid for by Mexico and that the Democrats in congress are treasonous liars.  Walsh closed by noting that he “…realized once and for all that nobody can beat Trump in a Republican primary. Not just because it’s become his party, but because it has become a cult, and he’s a cult leader. He doesn’t have supporters; he has followers. And in their eyes, he can do no wrong.” This raised some interesting philosophical concerns.

Some might respond by saying “what about the Democrats?” and accuse them of being a cult. While one could debate political cults, this “what about” would (as always) be irrelevant. Even if the Democrats were a cult, this would prove or disprove nothing about Republicans. My concern is with looking at the epistemology and thinking of the voters Walsh encountered.

One possible explanation is that Trump voters have normal epistemic abilities and hold to true beliefs but are lying in this case. They believe that Trump lies, that the wall was not paid for by Mexico and so on. People often lie in support of people they like, especially when they think those people are being attacked. This is a matter of ethics: believing that it is right to lie in defense of someone you support especially when speaking their opponent. While subject to moral assessment, this need not be cultish. After all, people will lie to defend their friends.

A second explanation is that these voters’ epistemic abilities and critical thinking skills have always been defective and they are unusually bad at forming true beliefs and critically assessing claims. This could be due to various biases and the usual reasons people fall victim to fallacies and rhetoric. But this need not be cultish since believing false things because of epistemic defects or failures in critical thinking is a common occurrence. On this explanation, Trump supporters are wrong, but they are not wrong because of being cultists. Rather, they are following Trump because they are wrong.

A third explanation is that these voters’ epistemic abilities and critical thinking skills have been corrupted by Trump’s influence. That is, they reject the rational methods of forming beliefs and critical thinking in favor of believing in Trump because Trump tells them to believe in him. They are wrong because they are following Trump. In this case, they might be cultists. They would be accepting a “Trump command theory” in what Trump says is true is true because Trump says so and what Trump says is false because Trump says so. If this explanation is correct, Trump is shaping the perceived reality of his followers. They are not lying to defend him or themselves, they are true believers in Trump’s false description of the world. That is, they are a cult with a charismatic leader.

As a political tool, members of congress threaten or engage in a government shutdown. When the government is shut down, federal workers can be furloughed and sent home without pay and forbidden from working. Others, like TSA agents, can be compelled to work without pay. As the government shutdown does not shut down bills and expenses, the unpaid workers will be harmed by their lack of income. While some federal workers are well paid, many live from paycheck to paycheck and have few financial reserves. Because of this, some federal workers have turned to food banks during past shutdowns. In addition to the impact on workers, there are indirect impacts on those providing goods and services. After all, people who are not getting paid will be spending less.

In addition to the financial impacts, there are other harms. One example is the national parks. There is also the harm suffered by those who need the federal services. There are also the long-term harms of the shutdown. While one could write almost endlessly of the harms of a shutdown, it suffices to say they are harmful and something that should be avoided.

Debating about who is to blame for any shutdown is often a fruitless endeavor because of the partisan divide. Minds will generally not be changed by evidence or reasons. That said, a shutdown requires both parties: if one party gives in to the other, then the shutdown will end. From a moral standpoint, both sides bear some blame. However, the blame need not be equal.

After all, refusing to give in to a threat to harm others can be morally acceptable. And it is usually the Republicans who make such threats.  From a utilitarian standpoint, giving in would be wrong if it created more harm than refusing to do so. This utilitarian calculation can consider more than just the immediate factors. For example, it should also include that yielding to such tactics encourages their future use.

The ethics of the shutdown comes down to two moral concerns. The first is whether it is morally acceptable to hurt innocent people to get what you want. The second is whether it is morally acceptable to refuse to give someone what they want when they threaten to harm the innocent.

From a utilitarian standpoint, the matter is settled by weighing the harm against benefit. The benefits can include preventing harm. So, a shutdown would be morally acceptable if doing so prevented greater harm, since shutdowns are always harmful. What must also be considered is whether there is an alternative to the shutdown. To use an analogy, if someone proposed a risky surgery, failing to consider alternatives would be morally irresponsible. In the case of the shutdown, there are alternatives. One is to use a less harmful process of negotiation and for each side to agree they will not use the shutdown as a political tool.

One practical problem is that the shutdown is perceived as a useful, albeit risky, political tool. The side pushing a shutdown will think that it will probably work; the other side thinks they can keep it from working. Both sides think they can score political points. Using a shutdown as a tool requires ignoring or even not caring about the harm being inflicted on the American people. After all, while politicians can lose political points or not get what they want, they are not harmed by their shutdown. This willingness to use people as pawns is morally problematic, assuming you agree with Locke that the purpose of the state is the good of the people.

That said, political, economic and military calculations always involve harming pawns—so the shutdown could be seen as just another move in the political game. This can be countered by arguing that there are better alternatives, and so causing harm is not necessary. As such, the shutdown would seem to be an unethical political tool. Unfortunately, just as it takes two to shut down the government, it also takes two to avoid it: both parties must agree to not shut it down. But as long as it is seen as a viable tool and if politicians are willing to hurt Americans to achieve their political goals, then we must expect future shutdowns.

The denotation of a word is what it literally means. The connotation is the emotional loading of the word, which can be negative or positive; this is how the word makes you feel. To illustrate, “swarm” and “infestation” have strong negative connotations. Whether the connotation is negative or positive depends on various factors, such as how the audience feels about the word. For example, the connotation of “socialism” is negative for most Americans but obviously positive to socialists. Two words can have the same denotation, but very different connotations. For example, the slang “pig” and the word “police” have the same denotation, but different connotations. As would be expected, rhetoric uses the influence of connotation to affect how people feel.

Words that have strong connotations can be powerful rhetorical tools. As with any powerful tool, people will want to use it, even if they must steal it. Hence, connotation theft.  A word can derive its connotation from a variety of factors, such as historical context, and this is how the connotation is earned. If the word is then knowingly used for that connotation in a manner inconsistent with those factors, then the connotation has been stolen. This can also involve intentionally ignoring a word’s denotation to use its connotation.  A person can also unintentionally steal connotation by being unaware that their use is inconsistent with the factors, such as the historical context or denotation, that give the word the connotation in question.

Put into a template, connotation theft looks like this:

 

  1. Word W has connotation C because of P,Q and R.
  2. Word W is used in situation S because it has connotation C.
  3. But S is inconsistent with P, Q, R.

 

A good example is the word “fascism.” The word has a strong negative connotation primarily because of the Nazis and their numerous crimes. To a lesser extent, fascist Italy and Spain also contributed to this negative connotation. Because of the strong negative connotation of “fascism” calling something “fascism” or associating it with fascism can be an effective rhetorical tactic. Doing this can generate negative feelings towards the thing in question and these can influence what people think. Because of this, it is not surprising that the term is often used in American politics. George W. Bush’s administration was called fascist. Bush in turn used the term “Islamofascism” (which is distinct from Islamic fascism) to create negative feelings. Obama was called a fascist and, of course, Trump is being called a fascist now. Interestingly, the left is now being called fascist and some claim that the Nazis were leftists (mainly because of the “socialism” in their name). One might thus agree with a quote attributed to George Orwell, that “[T]he word Fascism has now no meaning except in so far as it signifies ‘something not desirable.'” This, it could be argued, arose from connotation theft: using the word for its negative connotation while ignoring its denotation and historical context served to split them apart.

Orwell’s remark shows a problem with connotation theft: it can rob a word of its denotation and historical context, making it just a rhetorical tool. Another problem is that connotation theft is a deceit because the emotional power of the word is exploited by intentionally misapplying it. For example, some on the right assert that the left and the socialists are fascists. Since most people feel fascism is bad, this misuse of the term can make people feel the left is bad. But the claim that fascism is leftist is a lie. First, while the National Socialists used the word “socialist”, they were neither socialists nor leftists. Fascism is a reaction to and an opponent of the left. Second, the negative connotation of “fascism” did not arise from any socialist style programs or policies the Nazis or other fascists might have implemented. It arises from the fascism of the fascists and the Nazi’s multitude of crimes. As such, applying the term “fascist” to the left is an attempt at connotation theft (or, at best an act of ignorance). This is most certainly not to claim that the left is without sin, just that fascism is a sin of the right rather than the left.

The main defense against being deceived by connotation theft is being aware of what gives a term its emotional power, such as its correct denotation and historical context. For example, when someone is accused of being fascist, one should consider if the word applies or, as Orwell said, it is just signifying something the speaker finds undesirable and hopes you will too.

 

Politicians recognize the political value of mass shootings, with Republicans trying their best to prevent Democrats using these events to pass gun control laws. When a mass shooting occurs, two standard Republican tactics are to assert that it is not time to talk about gun control and to accuse Democrats of trying to score political points. I will consider each of these in turn.

The assertion that after a mass shooting is not the right time to talk about gun control does have some merit. Emotional decisions made in haste are usually worse than those resulting from cool and deliberate consideration. A good example of this is the flood of laws passed in response to 9/11. That said, there is a negative side to waiting as motivation and political will can fade until nothing is ever done. When people debated acting against slavery in the United States, there was a similar dispute between those who proposed gradualism and those who demanded action. Those in favor of immediate action often used an analogy to rescuing people from a fire: gradually removing them from a burning house would be a terrible idea. Likewise for addressing slavery and, perhaps, gun violence.

One response to Republicans who use this tactic is to point out that they do not hold to it consistently. While they say this after every mass shooting, they do not take the same approach in other situations of intense emotion and calls for hasty action. As such, they are obviously using the “not the time” rhetorical device rather than following a principle of when action should take place. The goal of this rhetorical device is not to call for calm deliberation but to delay action or prevent action. To be fair, Democrats who use this rhetorical tactic against Republicans in other areas are equally guilty. Now to the second tactic.

When the Democrats try to act in response to a mass shooting, Republican politicians often accuse them of trying to score political points and of playing politics. Ironically, in making this accusation they are trying to score political points by accusing the other side of trying to score political points.

On the one hand, this charge has merit. If a Democrat is just cynically using a mass shooting politically and does not care otherwise, then they would be justly accused of playing politics. But the motivation of a politician is just relevant to a moral assessment of the person and is  irrelevant to whether the their claims are true and whether their proposals are good.

Attacking someone for playing politics and rejecting their claims would be a type of ad hominem which could be called the “accusation of playing politics fallacy.” The form is as follows:

 

Premise 1: Politician A accuses politician B of trying to score political points by playing politics about subject S.

Premise 2: Politician B makes claim C about subject S.

Conclusion: Claim C is false.

 

This is obviously bad logic. Even if one politician is trying to score political points, this does not prove that their claim is not true. While assessing their motives is relevant to assessing their ethics, their motives have no bearing on their claim being true or false.

The “accusation of playing politics” can also be a rhetorical device—it is a type of red herring in which one tries to switch the discussion from one issue to another. In the case of mass shootings, the goal is to switch the issue from whether there should be more gun control to whether Democrats are playing politics. The end game is, of course, to keep attention away from the original issue.

This is not to deny that Democrats and Republicans are playing politics. Democrats do try to use mass shootings to get more gun laws passed, Republicans try to prevent this with the two methods described above. Some pro-gun people also try to score political points off mass shootings by appealing to fear that the Democrats will try to do something about mass shootings. But what is important, at least to people who would prefer fewer mass shootings, is addressing the problem of mass shootings and gun violence. This does require doing politics and the time to do so, as always, is now

When a mass shooting occurs, Republican politicians blame mental illness or video games. Placing the blame on video games makes use of an argument that dates back at least to Plato. In the Republic, Plato argues that exposure to art can have a corrupting effect, making people more likely to engage in bad behavior. While Plato focused mainly on the corrupting influence of tragedy (which could cause people to fall victim to inappropriate sadness) he also discussed the corrupting influence of fictional violence. As he saw it, exposure to fictional violence could incline people to real violence. Plato’s solution to the threat was to ban such art from his ideal city.

This argument has some appeal. People are influenced by experiences and repeated exposure to fictional violence could affect how a person feels and thinks. Exposure to non-fiction, such as hateful speech, writings and tweets could influence a person in negative ways. The critical question is whether the influence of video games can be a causal factor in violence, especially a mass shooting.

Determining whether video games are a causal factor in mass shootings involves assessing causation in a population. The challenge is showing whether there would be more mass shootings in a population if everyone played video games than if no one did. If there is a statistically significant difference, then video games can would have a causal influence on violent behavior. So, let us consider this matter.

If video games were a statistically significant causal factor for mass shootings, then we would expect to see the number of mass shootings varying with the number of video game players in a country. While the United States is a leader in both video game revenues and mass shootings, other countries also have large populations of gamers, yet do not have a corresponding level of mass shootings. As such, video games would not seem to be a significant causal factor in mass shootings.

This does not prove that video games are not a factor at all. Perhaps video games combined with other factors do cause mass shootings. So, we need to look at the differences between the United States and other countries to see what factors combine with video games to cause mass shootings. Now, If video games play a causal role in mass shootings, the question is the extent to which they have this effect.

About 67% of Americans play video games of one form or another. But the concern is not with video games but with violent video games like Call of Duty and Fortnite. While most Americans do not play these games, millions of Americans do. The overwhelming majority of people who play violent video games never become mass shooters. As such, if violent video games do have causal influence, it must be extremely limited, otherwise mass shootings would be more common.

Some politicians have tried to make use of the method of difference to argue that video games are causing mass shootings. This method involves comparing cases in which an effect has occurred to similar cases in which the effect did not occur and finding a plausible difference that could be the cause. This method is a good one but must be used with care to avoid falling into error. The gist of the argument made by these politicians is to conclude that violent video games cause mass shootings because mass shootings increased when violent video games were created. Because of the difference between before and after, video games are taken to be a causal factor.

While it is true that the number of mass shootings correlates with the number of violent video games available (both have increased over the years), correlation is not causation. After all, the number of tech startups has also increased, yet it would be absurd to conclude that they are causing mass shootings. To simply assert that since mass shootings increased as more violent video games appeared would be to commit the cum hoc fallacy, that because two things correlate, there must be a causal connection. This does not entail that violent video games do not play a role, but more is needed than mere correlation. As argued above, there seems to be no significant causal connection between violent video games and mass shootings; they merely happen to correlate as do many other things.

While blaming video games has political value, it does nothing to address the problem of mass shooting since there seems to be no meaningful causal connection between real violence and video games.

The foundation of legitimate political authority has been explored by political philosophers like Hobbes and Locke. When the thirteen American colonies revolted, they sought a foundation for political authority. While there are many views, the founders of the United States adopted a philosophy shaped by John Locke: legitimate political authority requires the consent of the governed and the majority should rule. Being aware of what Mill later called the tyranny of the majority, the founders put in place constitutional protections against oppressive incursions by the majority (and the state).

While these ideas appeal to me psychologically because of my upbringing, they also stand up well to philosophical scrutiny. As such, I accept that political legitimacy stems from the consent of the governed and that majority rule with proper protection against the tyranny of the majority is a good idea. For the sake of this essay, I will assume that these two basic principles are correct while acknowledging that they could be refuted.

Since the legitimacy of the government depends on the consent of the governed, it is essential that the governed can provide or withhold consent. As a practical matter, voting is fundamental to this consent. A citizen can also provide consent by not voting, if they are free to vote and decide against doing so. If a citizen is unjustly denied their right to vote, then their consent is not obtained. This weakens a government’s legitimacy  since the it would be extending its authority beyond the provided consent. To avoid a charge of absurdity, I must make it clear that I am not claiming that disenfranchising a single citizen destroys the legitimacy of the state. Rather, each unjustly disenfranchised citizen reduces the legitimacy of the state to that degree. I cannot specify the specific number of disenfranchised voters that would destroy the legitimacy of a state, but to require this would be to fall victim to the line drawing fallacy. But if most citizens were unjustly disenfranchised, that would be an indisputable case in which the state lost legitimacy. At levels less than this, the legitimacy of the state would be reduced proportionally to the degree of unjust disenfranchisement. Simply put, the more unjustly disenfranchised citizens, the less legitimate the state. Individual citizens who are unjustly disenfranchised can make a reasonable case that they owe little or no obedience to the state that has disenfranchised them. One can appeal to the principle of no taxation without representation.

While we praise the right to vote, the United States has a long and persistent history of unjust disenfranchisement. While the past is of interest, what is of practical concern is the present unjust disenfranchisement of citizens.

One means of unjust disenfranchisement it to use the specter of voter fraud to “justify” measures denying citizens their right to vote. While voter fraud does exist, all the evidence shows that it is incredibly rare.  To use an analogy, the obsession with voter fraud seems like a confused person who thinks Americans face a dangerous epidemic of excessive exercise and that a lack of health insurance is not a serious problem. This confused person would work hard to impose restrictions and limits on exercise while expressing no concern about insurance.  While athletic overtraining does occur, it is not a general problem and the focus should be on the lack of health insurance. Likewise for voter fraud and voter suppression: voter fraud does occur, but the real problem is voter suppression.

There is also the fact that the methods used are often ineffective against the sort of fraud that does occur. These methods are more effective at disenfranchising voters, especially narrowly targeted voters. One example is the Republican’s voter ID law in North Dakota that requires voters to have an ID that shows a street address. Many native American voters live in rural areas and have PO boxes rather than street addresses and they are now trying to get new IDs that meet the requirement of the law. In terms of why the law exists, it is not because there was an epidemic of fraudulent voting by people using government IDs that lack street addresses. Rather, it is because Democratic Senator Heidi Heitkamp won her election by less than 3,000 votes in 2012. 80% of majority-Native counties voted for her, so suppressing their votes could have resulted in a Republican victory. This law will also impact other citizens.

Another example of voter suppression is disenfranchising felons. While felon disenfranchisement impacts Republican and Democratic voters (Trump is a convicted felon), it is seen as impacting Democrats more, which explains why Republicans tend to favor it.

There are other ways in which citizens are unjustly disenfranchised, most of which are the result of strategies of the Republican party. It might be countered that I and the Democrats are only concerned about voter suppression because the voters being targeted are more likely to vote for Democrats. One might go beyond this and claim that I and the Democrats would be fine with the suppression of Republican voters. One might point to how Democrats engage in gerrymandering and other political trickery, perhaps even their own version of voter suppression.

My reply is that I cannot speak for other Democrats; but I can speak for myself. My view is that voter suppression is wrong regardless of who is being unjustly suppressed. As such, if the Democrats engage in voter suppression, I condemn that as strongly as I condemn voter suppression by Republicans. Or anyone, for that matter. While I would generally prefer that a Democrat win (if only from the pure self-interested fact that Democrats tend to be much friendlier to education and more pro-environment than Republicans), I would rather lose an election fairly than win through voter suppression. This is because, as noted above, voter suppression reduces the legitimacy of the state by robbing citizens unjustly of their opportunity to consent. In a nation that professes to be a democracy (yes, I know that it has a republican system at most levels) to rob citizens unjustly of their right to vote is a crime of the highest order. This is because it denies the foundational right of the citizens of a democracy and damages democracy itself. As such, voter suppression is treason, plain and simple.

 

In the previous essay in this series, I presented the argument by elimination and ended with a promise to address how to assess the competition between explanations. The overall method of elimination in this context can be presented in the following form:

 

Premise 1: There are X (some number) explanations for Y (some phenomenon).

Premise 2: E (an explanation) is the best of the X explanations.

Conclusion: E is (probably) correct.

 

Sorting out the second premise involves “scoring” each explanation and then comparing these scores to see which one does the best. As noted in the previous essay, to the degree that there are reasonable doubts that all plausible explanations have been considered, there are reasonable doubts that the correct explanation has been found. But the focus of this essay is on the competition.

While the scoring metaphor is useful, scoring explanations is not exact and admits of some subjectivity. As such, reasonable people can reasonably disagree about the relative ranking of explanations. That said, there are objective standards used in assessing explanations.

Conspiracy theorists often use this method and argue their theory best explains the facts. However, problems often arise when all the standards for assessing explanations are applied.

There are obvious defects that any explanation needs to avoid to be a good explanation. At a minimum, an explanation needs to avoid being too vague (lacking adequate precision), ambiguous (having two or more meanings when it is not clear what is intended), and circularity (merely restating what is to be explained). These are minimal standards because an explanation that cannot meet them is not worth considering. For example, if an explanation is too vague, one does not even know what it is saying. There are other standards as well.

One standard is that an explanation needs to be consistent with established fact and theory. As would be imagined, conspiracy theories will almost by definition fail to meet this standard. For example, the conspiracy theory that NASA faked the moon landing goes against established fact. As another example, the view that the earth is flat goes against established fact and theory.

When faced with this standard, conspiracy theorists will often point out that some now established facts and theories were once inconsistent with the facts and theories of an earlier time. On the one hand, they are right to point out that old facts and theories have been overturned and thus this standard is not decisive. On the other hand, the fact that it has occurred in other cases does not prove that a specific conspiracy theory is thus proven. To use an analogy, while it is true that some criminal convictions have been overturned, this does not entail that a specific person is thus innocent. Overturning established fact and theory requires showing that they have defects serious enough to warrant their overthrow—merely pointing out that it has happened does not show that it will happen in any particular case. When explanations compete, the explanation that better matches established fact and theory is better—unless compelling reasons can be given to overturn them.

A second standard is that an explanation needs to keep it simple. This involves avoiding unnecessary assumptions and needless complexities. The famous Occam’s Razor falls under this standard, with the enjoinder to not multiply entities beyond necessity. For example, explaining the phenomenon of night terrors in physiological terms as opposed to invoking demons or witches is simpler and hence better. As another example, those who favor evolution over creation contend that the theory of evolution explains everything that the creation explanation explains but has the advantage of not postulating God. As a third example, faking the moon landing in the 1960s would have required far more advanced technology than was available at the time as well as a global conspiracy between competing nations. The simpler explanation is that the landings took place. As the examples illustrate, explanations compete in terms of simplicity: all other things being equal, the simpler explanation is better.

Explanations can become more complicated as they deal with problems or objections. This need not be a fatal problem if the increased complication is warranted. In other cases, the increased complexity is ad hoc and serves primarily to try to save the explanation from criticism in an unprincipled way. This typically involves presenting more explanations to account for the problems that arise for the original explanation. For example, when experiments  show that the earth is not flat, flat-earthers try to explain these failures by using some new factor(s) such as a previously unknown type of energy that affects gyroscopes. When challenged, they can say that this is an accepted method in science: almost all explanations are modified as complications arise. The challenge, then, is sorting out what is a legitimate modification in the face of a complication and what is an ad hoc attempt to save the explanation by bringing in new entities or complexities. This leads to what might be the most important standard, that of testability.

If an explanation gets it right, then it should yield predictions that turn out to be true. These predictions need to be testable, otherwise there is no way to know whether the explanation is correct. As such, if an explanation produces predictions that cannot be tested, then that is a problem for establishing its correctness: it might be correct, but we cannot know. If an explanation yields predictions that are tested and turn out to be false, then that is a problem for the theory—but this need not be fatal. As noted above, an explanation can be modified in the face of failure to account for that failure. This should yield a new prediction that can be tested. If the prediction turns out to be true, that is a plus for the explanation. As would be suspected, explanations compete in terms of explanatory power: all other things being equal, the explanation that yields better predictions is better. If the new prediction turns out to be false, then the explanation can be modified again to yield another prediction for testing. For example, if a new type of energy is postulated to explain how gyroscopes work, then predictions need to be made and tested for this energy. If it is claimed that the prediction is that gyroscopes would work the way they do and thus the energy has been shown to be real, then this would seem to be reasoning in a circle. As would be suspected, this is where conspiracy theories often hit the rocks: they advance explanations that yield false predictions and then modify the explanations, which then yield false predictions. They then modify then explanations, which yield more false predictions and so on. The problem does not lie with the basic method: as noted above, modifying explanations in a principled way in the face of findings is a legitimate method. The problem is that the proponent of the explanation simply refuses to accept testability—nothing can refute their explanation because they will simply modify it to respond to every failure. 

It might be objected that such persistence is a good thing—that if the great thinkers of the past gave up at the first failure of their predictions, we would not be where we are today. While there is much to be said of persistence, there is a point at which the proponent is simply refusing to accept testability—nothing can ever refute their explanation. But this makes the theory meaningless as it becomes useless as an explanation. To use a silly analogy, consider the invisible unicorn.

When I was in grade school, a kid told us they had a unicorn. Being kids, we doubted this but really wanted to see it. The unicorn kid claimed that we could not see it because it was invisible. A smart kid pointed out that we should be able to hear it. But unicorn kid said their unicorn was silent. Then someone said that we should be able to touch it or see its prints on the ground. To which unicorn kid said it was too quick and was flying. And so on, for every test that would prove (or disprove) the unicorn. While we might not be able to draw an exact line at which an explanation starts becoming an invisible unicorn, once it reaches that zone the game is over.  As would be guessed, conspiracy theories often end up in the land of invisible unicorns.

Photo by ubahnverleih

As discussed in the previous essays on this subject, conspiracy theorists often use the methods of critical thinking to support and defend their theories. One method, which is a core component of scientific reasoning, is the inference to the best explanation. As the name suggests, this reasoning aims at finding the best explanation and this typically involves pitting competing explanations against each other until the best emerges.

This reasoning can be seen as a version of the argument by elimination. This argument has two basic forms. One version is the extermination method in which the goal is to show that something cannot be the case. The idea is to present all possible options, refute all of them and then conclude a total elimination. As an example, Kant used this method to argue that the existence of God cannot be proven (and that it could not be disproven). His reasoning was as follows:

 

Premise 1: There are only three possible ways to prove the existence of God: the teleological argument, the ontological argument and the cosmological argument.

Premise 2: None of these arguments can succeed in proving the existence of God.

Conclusion: There is no way to prove the existence of God.

 

While this is a valid deductive argument (if all the premises are true, then the conclusion must be true), showing that it is also sound (valid plus all true premises) is the real challenge. Doing so requires showing that there are only three ways to prove God’s existence and that they all must fail.

Since this method aims at total elimination, it is only useful in this context when trying to argue that no explanation is possible.

The second version is like a marathon: the competition runs until one victor emerges from the pack. In its simplest form (which has but two options), it can be presented as a disjunctive syllogism:

 

Premise 1:  P or Q

Premise 2: Not Q

Conclusion: P

 

It can also be expanded to include potentially infinite options:

 

Premise 1: P or Q or R or …

Premise 2: Not Q and Not R and Not…

Conclusion: P

 

This sort of reasoning is often used in mystery/crime stories: if there are only five possible suspects and one of them did it, then elimination four of them will reveal the culprit.  This presentation can be misleading, however. While the logic is valid, to avoid committing the fallacy of false dilemma it must be the case that the two (or more) options that are presented are the only viable options. To the degree that other options remain a possibility, the truth of the first premises remains in doubt.

Conspiracy theorists (and many others) sometimes make the mistake of falling into a false dilemma when they claim that their refutation of their main competitor(s) proves their theory. For example, a flat-earther might reason like this:

 

Premise 1: The earth is flat or the earth is a sphere.

Premise 2: The earth is not a sphere.

Conclusion: The earth is flat.

 

The obvious problem is that while the best-known earth shapes are spherical and flat, this does not entail that those are the only options. There are, after all, many other shapes in geometry and the flat option only wins by elimination when all those shapes have also been eliminated.

It is at this point that a skeptic can argue that one can never be sure that all the options have been considered, so one can never know that the right explanation has been found. After all, the skeptic can say, the right explanation might not even be in the competition. This fact is sometimes used by conspiracy theorists to cast doubts on an accepted explanation. This explanation might be the best among the known explanations but is not the true explanation. Unfortunately for the conspiracy theorist, this same doubt also applies to their conspiracy theory, so they need more than skepticism to support their own explanation.

While the skeptic might be right about the impossibility of certainty, it is still possible to hold the competition between the known explanations while keeping in mind that alternatives have been missed. But the mere fact that there could be missed alternatives does not itself show that a good explanation has not been found. To use an analogy, think of a career. While there might be a better match for a person out there, this does not entail that their current career is not a good one (or even the best). After all, the career can be assessed by various standards and against the known alternatives. The same holds for explanations. So, while the possibility of unknown explanations should be kept in mind, their mere possibility should not be taken as refuting an explanation.

 The second challenge is that of establishing the second premise—eliminating the competition.

To the degree that the elimination of the other explanations is in doubt, the truth of the second premise remains in doubt. This leads to the matter of how explanations compete, which is the subject of the next essay in this series.

 

As noted in the previous essays in the series, people who believe in conspiracy theories can use good methods of argumentation to establish their claims. As such, it would be an error to simply dismiss such folks as automatically being irrational or illogical. In this essay I will briefly look at how the argument by example can be used to support a conspiracy theory and how to assess such reasoning to avoid accepting fallacies.

An argument by example is, obviously enough, when one tries to support a conclusion by presenting examples. It has the following form, although people generally present it informally:

 

           Premise 1: Example 1 is an example that supports claim P.

           Premise n: Example n is an example that supports claim P.

           Conclusion: Claim P is true.

 

In this case n is a variable standing for the number of the premise in question and P is a variable standing for the claim under consideration. To use a non-conspiracy example, a politician might argue that they are competent in foreign policy by giving examples of their success in this area.

There are many ways this argument can be used in conspiracy theories. One is to argue for the existence of conspiracies in general by providing examples that purport to show that conspiracies do occur. For example, a Flat Earther might try to prove that it is reasonable to believe that supposedly proven science can be a hoax or conspiracy by giving examples of such occurrences (such as the Piltdown Man hoax).

While this approach is a legitimate use of the argument, to conclude from establishing the general claim that there have been conspiracies to a specific conspiracy theory being true is bad logic. To use an analogy, consider counterfeit art. It is easy to find many examples of counterfeit art, and this supports the conclusion that art has been counterfeited. But it would not follow that a specific work of art, such as the Mona Lisa, was a counterfeit.

 The second method is to argue for a specific conspiracy theory by presenting examples that support the theory. For example, someone who believes the Illuminati run the world could present examples of what they think is the Illuminati in action and conclude their theory is correct. The question is whether the examples adequately support the conclusion, and this concern leads to the standards used to assess this argument.

First, the more examples, the stronger the argument. Second, the more relevant the examples, the stronger the argument. Using the Illuminati example as an illustration, the question would be whether the examples provide evidence of the Illuminati. As should be suspected, this is where the main dispute would occur. The person arguing that the Illuminati is real would be seen by their critics as seeing things that are not there, while the proponent of the theory would think their critics blind.

Third, the examples must be specific and clearly identified. Vague and unidentified examples provide little. Conspiracy theories are often supported by vague and unidentified examples, but sometimes they are precise and clearly identified. For example, the Illuminati theorist might point to a detailed and documented account of UN activities they see as example of the Illuminati influence.

 Fourth, counterexamples must be considered. A counterexample is an example that counts against the claim. One way to look at a counter example is that it is an example that supports the denial of the conclusion being argued for. The more counterexamples and the more relevant they are, the weaker the argument. In the case of the Illuminati example, counterexamples could be cases that would tell against Illuminati control. One common failing of conspiracy theories is that counterexamples are ignored or downplayed. As would be imagined, this can lead to a battle over whether the supposed counterexample is really a counterexample. For example, if someone claims the world is ruled by a super-competent Illuminati, counterexamples would include all the things that arise from poor decision making and ignorance. But, of course, a clever theorist can try to explain away these supposed counterexamples. For example, chaos, wars and economic disasters are not evidence against a global Illuminati, but proof it exists because they are brilliantly causing people to make bad decisions that cause wars and economic disasters.

As such, conspiracy theorists who use the argument by example are not being irrational or illogical. They are using a basic inductive tool. The problem is with how they assess their examples and their failure to give due weight to counterexamples. That said, the battles over the relevance of examples, whether a counterexample is really a counterexample, and the weight given to examples is one that can become very complicated. As such, theorists who are willing to apply the standards and consider criticism should not be simply dismissed. As with the other types of reasoning, conspiracy theorists are using good tools badly

This essay continues the discussion of the logic of conspiracy theories. Conspiracy theorists use the same logical tools as everyone else, but they use them in different ways. In the previous essay I discussed how conspiracy theorists use the argument from authority.  I will now look at the analogical argument.

In an analogical argument you conclude that two things are alike in a certain respect because they are alike in other respects. An analogical argument usually has three premises and a conclusion. The first two premises establish the analogy by showing that the things (X and Y) being compared are similar in certain respects (properties P, Q, R, etc.).  The third premise establishes that X has an additional property, Z. The conclusion asserts that Y has property Z as well. The form looks like this:

 

           Premise 1: X has properties P,Q, and R.

           Premise 2: Y has properties P,Q, and R.

           Premise 3: X has property Z.

           Conclusion: Y has property Z.

 

While one might wonder how reasoning by analogy could lead to accepting a conspiracy theory, it works very well in this role. If property Z is a feature of a conspiracy theory, such as the government harming citizens, then all that is needed to make the argument is something else with that property. Then it is easy to draw the analogy. 

For example, consider an anti-vaxxer who thinks there is a conspiracy to convince people that the unsafe vaccines are safe. They could make an analogical argument comparing vaccines to what happened during the opioid epidemic. This epidemic was caused by pharmaceutical companies lying about the danger of opioids, doctors being bribed to prescribe them, pharmacies going along with the prescriptions, and the state allowing it all to happen. Looked at this way, concluding that what was true of opioids is also true of vaccines can seem reasonable. Yet, the conspiracy theory about vaccines is mistaken. So, how does one sort assess this reasoning and what mistakes do conspiracy theorists make? The answer is that there are three standards for assessing the analogical argument and conspiracy theorists don’t apply them correctly.

First, the more properties X and Y have in common, the better the argument. The more two things are alike in other ways, the more likely it is that they will be alike in a specific way. In the case of vaccines and opioids, there are many shared similarities; for example, both involve companies, doctors, pharmacies and the state.

Second, the more relevant the shared properties are to property Z, the stronger the argument. A specific property, for example P, is relevant to property Z if the presence or absence of P affects the likelihood that Z will be present.  Third, it must be determined whether X and Y have relevant dissimilarities as well as similarities. The more dissimilarities and the more relevant they are, the weaker the argument.

In the case of inferring an unreal conspiracy to sell dangerous vaccines from the very real opioid conspiracy one must weigh the similarities and differences. While there are clearly relevant similarities, there are some crucial differences. Most importantly, vaccines have been extensively tested and are known to be safe. In contrast, all the scientific evidence supports common sense: opioids are addictive and potentially dangerous. While people want to make money off both, this does not entail that vaccines are not safe, even though opioids are dangerous.  While the analogy between the opioid conspiracy and the vaccine conspiracy breaks down; there is nothing wrong with reasoning by analogy. If the standards are applied and relevant differences are considered, this method of reasoning is quite useful.

It is rational for conspiracy theorists to consider real cases of wrongdoing. For example, we know that governments do engage in false flag operations or lie to “justify” wars and violence. But this fact does not prove, by itself, that any specific event is a false flag or a lie. As such, the mistake make by conspiracy theorists is not arguing by analogy, but in not being careful enough in applying the standards. So they commit the fallacy of false analogy.