In any given discussion where two parties differ strongly on a particular point, one or both parties may attempt to persuade the other by means of argument, in order that they will both agree. This is in fact not usually successful, but that doesn't stop us from trying; when it is successful, we talk of the opposing party having 'changed their minds'. But can we in fact change someone's mind, and, more interestingly, are we in fact trying to?
At first glance, the answer seems an obvious 'yes' to both questions: we disagree, I want to make us agree, and if I succeed, what has happened, if not a change of position from that originally held? It seems impossible for there to be any other explanation. But there is. In actual fact, when one tries to persuade another to agree, one is in fact not trying to change the other's mind in any sense; quite the opposite, in fact. Rather, the whole process of persuasion relies on the other not changing their mind, since any such change would be disastrous to the persuasion.
So what is persuasion, then, that it seeks to create agreement where disagreement once stood, and to do so somehow without a shift in position? Persuasion is in fact an attempt by one person to show another that in fact no disagreement exists in the first place, and the disagreement that exists stems from an erroneous judgement. Think about it: when you want to persuade someone, what do you do? You start from a common point of agreement, and then attempt to show that if you hold this initial point on which you both agree, then it is necessary for you in fact to agree on the matter at hand. Your opponent in turn tries to do the same to you.
The crucial point in persuasion is the point of agreement from which you start. Your whole argument is reliant on the belief that your opponent will not 'change his mind', and end up disagreeing on the starting point. Your persuasion relies on the belief that as long as you both agree, it will end up that you both in fact agree on the matter at hand also.
Persuasion, then, is about saying "No, you don't actually believe that; you only think you do. In actual fact you and I agree completely, let me show you." I assume the ideal end to persuasion is for you both to laugh about it together, wondering how you could ever have been so foolish as to think there was a disagreement. What usually happens, though, is that neither succeeds in persuading the other, and both go away thinking the other an illogical fool. But who says we can't try?
If you still don't believe me, look at what I'm doing right now, what I've been doing throughout this post: I've been persuading you to understand persuasion as I do, by arguing that you already agree, or, more precisely, that you already act in agreement, but just haven't realised.
So, can I change your mind? No, to be honest, I don't think I can, nor can anyone other than yourself. But that's okay, because 98% of the time, I don't have to; I just have to prove that you already agree with me. Sadly, that's not as easy as it sounds...
Sunday 29 September 2013
Sunday 22 September 2013
The Slippery Slope: A Logical Fallacy?
The slippery slope argument. I'm sure we've all heard it before, on numerous occasions; perhaps we've even used it ourselves, since it seems to be a natural argument for people to give, even people who criticise it in others. And, of course, I'm sure we've all heard it swept aside with those five words: "Oh, that's a logical fallacy!" Okay, so you may wish to claim there are only four words there, since 'oh' is more a sound like 'umm', but the point stays the same, and I'm sure you all agree. This sweeping statement usually is sufficiently derisive as to discredit whoever is using the slippery slope argument (though it rarely makes him change his mind). The question is, are we right in calling it a logical fallacy?
At first glance, it certainly seems to be the case that it is an example of one of my favourite problems in philosopy: Hume's problem of induction. In essence, the problem runs as follows: no matter how many times you see something one way, it doesn't mean it will be that way next time. Hume uses this to show that we have no way to say something causes another; no matter how many times a glass breaks when I drop it, it may not the next glass I drop, simply because I don't know until it happens. To use one final example is swans. Until Europeans came to Western Australia, they believed all swans to be white, because indeed all the swans they had previously seen were white. Yet once they went to Western Australia, what did they see, but black swans! God, I love this problem.
Now, it seems to be the same case with the slippery slope argument, since the argument seems to run like this: If we allow you to push the boundaries this far, this will mean others will push the boundaries further, and eventually everything will end up in the gutter, so to speak. Even if the chap can bring historical evidence to back him up, surely, you may be saying to yourself, this is predicting future events based on past contingencies?? See how Hume turns in his grave, you say! Out, out, damned fallacy!
And yet, this is not all. The slippery slope argument, upon closer scrutiny, in fact reveals itself to be a lot subtler, and a lot harder to refute. Actually, I think it's impossible to refute, but we'll get to that. As is often the case with my discussions, it comes down to a very subtle distinction in understanding or meaning, a distinction which makes all the difference. The slippery slope argument is not saying, "If you let this slide, you'll have a landslide." Well, it is, but not in the way you think. Most people take it to be saying that this will happen immediately and necessarily, which would indeed be a logical fallacy. But the argument runs differently.
The slippery slope argument is the argument that if you let this slide, you set a precedent. You have, irrefutably, shaken the foundations on which we stand; now, certainly, the one who wants to push the boundaries may firmly believe that pushing any further is wrong, but he forgets one thing. What he forgets is that his mind has been formed in an environment with boundaries that go only so far. If he succeeds in pushing the boundaries, the future will be populated by those whose minds are formed by an environment with boundaries that go a little further. The point is, the mindset changes, and a precedent for change in this area will be part of what forms future minds. The slippery slope argument is that if you let this slide, you won't be there to make sure it stops safely, whether you want to be or not. And this is irrefutable. And this can be backed up by historical evidence. It is simply a logical fact that allowing the boundaries to be changed, changes the game.
I shall take one example, the example that, incidentally, started me on a defence of the slippery slope argument, since I used it against a Moral Nihilist philosopher (I know, right, who thought they still existed?!) while discussing this example. In 2011 in the United States, the Institute of Medicine made the recommendation that pregnancy be declared a disease under law, to enable health care provision for contraceptives and the like. Now, here one can make a plethora of easy arguments against this, and one of them is the slippery slope argument: by allowing pregnancy, a natural physical result of a natural physical act, to be considered a disease, a precedent is set. The precedent says that you can say whatever you want under the law, as long as you can get it approved, and it has the desired effect. This is an irrefutable claim, because if future change is opposed the current example can always be used as a "But you did it before" statement.
The slippery slope does not say things will continue to slide, it says you are enabling things to slide further. You may dream of a better world where things will not be changed past a certain point, but it remains that: a dream. In response to the slippery slope argument, one can only quote Yeats: "Tread softly, because you tread on my dreams."
At first glance, it certainly seems to be the case that it is an example of one of my favourite problems in philosopy: Hume's problem of induction. In essence, the problem runs as follows: no matter how many times you see something one way, it doesn't mean it will be that way next time. Hume uses this to show that we have no way to say something causes another; no matter how many times a glass breaks when I drop it, it may not the next glass I drop, simply because I don't know until it happens. To use one final example is swans. Until Europeans came to Western Australia, they believed all swans to be white, because indeed all the swans they had previously seen were white. Yet once they went to Western Australia, what did they see, but black swans! God, I love this problem.
Now, it seems to be the same case with the slippery slope argument, since the argument seems to run like this: If we allow you to push the boundaries this far, this will mean others will push the boundaries further, and eventually everything will end up in the gutter, so to speak. Even if the chap can bring historical evidence to back him up, surely, you may be saying to yourself, this is predicting future events based on past contingencies?? See how Hume turns in his grave, you say! Out, out, damned fallacy!
And yet, this is not all. The slippery slope argument, upon closer scrutiny, in fact reveals itself to be a lot subtler, and a lot harder to refute. Actually, I think it's impossible to refute, but we'll get to that. As is often the case with my discussions, it comes down to a very subtle distinction in understanding or meaning, a distinction which makes all the difference. The slippery slope argument is not saying, "If you let this slide, you'll have a landslide." Well, it is, but not in the way you think. Most people take it to be saying that this will happen immediately and necessarily, which would indeed be a logical fallacy. But the argument runs differently.
The slippery slope argument is the argument that if you let this slide, you set a precedent. You have, irrefutably, shaken the foundations on which we stand; now, certainly, the one who wants to push the boundaries may firmly believe that pushing any further is wrong, but he forgets one thing. What he forgets is that his mind has been formed in an environment with boundaries that go only so far. If he succeeds in pushing the boundaries, the future will be populated by those whose minds are formed by an environment with boundaries that go a little further. The point is, the mindset changes, and a precedent for change in this area will be part of what forms future minds. The slippery slope argument is that if you let this slide, you won't be there to make sure it stops safely, whether you want to be or not. And this is irrefutable. And this can be backed up by historical evidence. It is simply a logical fact that allowing the boundaries to be changed, changes the game.
I shall take one example, the example that, incidentally, started me on a defence of the slippery slope argument, since I used it against a Moral Nihilist philosopher (I know, right, who thought they still existed?!) while discussing this example. In 2011 in the United States, the Institute of Medicine made the recommendation that pregnancy be declared a disease under law, to enable health care provision for contraceptives and the like. Now, here one can make a plethora of easy arguments against this, and one of them is the slippery slope argument: by allowing pregnancy, a natural physical result of a natural physical act, to be considered a disease, a precedent is set. The precedent says that you can say whatever you want under the law, as long as you can get it approved, and it has the desired effect. This is an irrefutable claim, because if future change is opposed the current example can always be used as a "But you did it before" statement.
The slippery slope does not say things will continue to slide, it says you are enabling things to slide further. You may dream of a better world where things will not be changed past a certain point, but it remains that: a dream. In response to the slippery slope argument, one can only quote Yeats: "Tread softly, because you tread on my dreams."
Saturday 7 September 2013
The Problem of Equality
Equality is a term we all hear bandied around with great frequency these days; a term that has been the catch-phrase of all those who fight for progress since the Bastille rang with the sound of "Liberté, égalité, fraternité!" Certainly, to be going against equality in any form is a great taboo, a line none dare cross. Yet what on earth does the term actually mean? The more the word is used as a means of making one's position unassailable, the more ambiguous the word becomes.
Equality is often claimed to mean the same opportunity for everyone. This definition, however, can be taken in two very different ways: with the emphasis on 'opportunity', this definition can be read as stating that all should have the same opportunity to pursue whatever field houses their interests. With the emphasis on 'same', however, this means that all must have the same, i.e. qualitatively identical, opportunity. This is a far more radical claim, and, indeed, a dangerous claim. Sadly, this is what the term 'equality' is usually used to denote.
Why is this bad? Let me give a practical example or so, before returning to the realm of abstraction. It is quite common today to hear the claim that everyone's opinion is equally valid. Now, here we have that dangerous word 'equal' again. What people mean when they make this claim is that everyone's opinion (usually theirs specifically) is just as important, and should be given just as much weight, as any other opinion you might come across. But consider this (purely fictional) scenario. In a dilemma about whether a particular car is a safe buy, I ask two of my friends to inspect it with me. Now, one of my friends is a mechanic, the other an English teacher. In regards to the current shape of the car I'm considering buying, I'm obviously going to give more weight to my mechanic friend than to my friend who is an English teacher (perhaps I will trust the opinion of the latter more with regards to colour, or size of the car, or something of the like). The point here is that one opinion on a given question is not necessarily as good as the next, because it may be a more informed opinion.
A second example (really an extension of the first) is found in preschool. I don't attend preschool, nor in fact have I ever attended it, but it is a stereotype that in preschool, kindergarten, and the like it is quite common to be told that 'there is no right answer', because 'everyone's opinion is equally valid'. No right answer?? Of course there's a right answer, for God's sake! Not necessarily in every case, but in the area of education people often learn facts, and with facts there is a right answer. So, while it is true that everyone's suggestion is equally valid, in the sense that everyone has the right to come up with an answer to a given question, some of those suggestions are just plain wrong. And that's not a bad thing. In fact it's a good thing. If nothing is ever wrong, there's no point in improving; a challenge only exists when one might not succeed.
Back to the realm of abstraction. What this radical idea of equality does is it mistakenly takes equality to mean everyone must have the same situation. Yes, this can be used to pull up those who are, in a sense, and for lack of a better phrase, lagging behind. This can also be used to pull down those who are ahead, however, and it is here that danger lies. As the Irish writer Iris Murdoch said, "The cry of equality pulls everyone down". Why? Because we feel it 'unfair' that someone else should have something that in our position we can't or don't have, for whatever reason, and so we pull them down, back into line.
Equality is about giving everybody the freedom to pursue what is good, and what is of interest to them in their own way. What is right for one situation is not for another. Now, I'm not talking about anything in particular, but we can see parallels in the fight over 'marriage equality'. The word 'equality' doesn't factor here, because same-sex unions are already equal under the law. The only problem is, it's not called marriage. This is akin to me and my friend who is Filipino being equal under the law, but me not being Filipino. A controversial example, perhaps, but where's the fun in placid examples?
So this is equality. Those who are supposed to have 'natural talent', whatever that means, are judged more harshly because 'it's easier for them'. Those who struggle are judged more leniently, because 'it's harder for them, poor dears'. That is not equality, not in a true sense. Unfortunately that is equality in the sense we have it today. Those who are good must suffer, and those who are not are exalted.
Orwell was right: "All animals are equal, but some are more equal than others."
Equality is often claimed to mean the same opportunity for everyone. This definition, however, can be taken in two very different ways: with the emphasis on 'opportunity', this definition can be read as stating that all should have the same opportunity to pursue whatever field houses their interests. With the emphasis on 'same', however, this means that all must have the same, i.e. qualitatively identical, opportunity. This is a far more radical claim, and, indeed, a dangerous claim. Sadly, this is what the term 'equality' is usually used to denote.
Why is this bad? Let me give a practical example or so, before returning to the realm of abstraction. It is quite common today to hear the claim that everyone's opinion is equally valid. Now, here we have that dangerous word 'equal' again. What people mean when they make this claim is that everyone's opinion (usually theirs specifically) is just as important, and should be given just as much weight, as any other opinion you might come across. But consider this (purely fictional) scenario. In a dilemma about whether a particular car is a safe buy, I ask two of my friends to inspect it with me. Now, one of my friends is a mechanic, the other an English teacher. In regards to the current shape of the car I'm considering buying, I'm obviously going to give more weight to my mechanic friend than to my friend who is an English teacher (perhaps I will trust the opinion of the latter more with regards to colour, or size of the car, or something of the like). The point here is that one opinion on a given question is not necessarily as good as the next, because it may be a more informed opinion.
A second example (really an extension of the first) is found in preschool. I don't attend preschool, nor in fact have I ever attended it, but it is a stereotype that in preschool, kindergarten, and the like it is quite common to be told that 'there is no right answer', because 'everyone's opinion is equally valid'. No right answer?? Of course there's a right answer, for God's sake! Not necessarily in every case, but in the area of education people often learn facts, and with facts there is a right answer. So, while it is true that everyone's suggestion is equally valid, in the sense that everyone has the right to come up with an answer to a given question, some of those suggestions are just plain wrong. And that's not a bad thing. In fact it's a good thing. If nothing is ever wrong, there's no point in improving; a challenge only exists when one might not succeed.
Back to the realm of abstraction. What this radical idea of equality does is it mistakenly takes equality to mean everyone must have the same situation. Yes, this can be used to pull up those who are, in a sense, and for lack of a better phrase, lagging behind. This can also be used to pull down those who are ahead, however, and it is here that danger lies. As the Irish writer Iris Murdoch said, "The cry of equality pulls everyone down". Why? Because we feel it 'unfair' that someone else should have something that in our position we can't or don't have, for whatever reason, and so we pull them down, back into line.
Equality is about giving everybody the freedom to pursue what is good, and what is of interest to them in their own way. What is right for one situation is not for another. Now, I'm not talking about anything in particular, but we can see parallels in the fight over 'marriage equality'. The word 'equality' doesn't factor here, because same-sex unions are already equal under the law. The only problem is, it's not called marriage. This is akin to me and my friend who is Filipino being equal under the law, but me not being Filipino. A controversial example, perhaps, but where's the fun in placid examples?
So this is equality. Those who are supposed to have 'natural talent', whatever that means, are judged more harshly because 'it's easier for them'. Those who struggle are judged more leniently, because 'it's harder for them, poor dears'. That is not equality, not in a true sense. Unfortunately that is equality in the sense we have it today. Those who are good must suffer, and those who are not are exalted.
Orwell was right: "All animals are equal, but some are more equal than others."
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