For greater appreciation of what an argument is and what it does, it is useful to contrast the entire category of arguments with things that are not arguments. What other kinds of things do we typically do with words, in passages of text or in speeches, conversations, etc.?
In fact, not arguing at all can be a sign of an unhealthy, unhappy or disconnected relationship. When neither partner has the energy or desire to patch things up, it may signal they’ve checked out of the relationship. That said, there are productive, respectful ways to hash things out with your partner.
We might just tell, or pass along, facts (or apparent facts) about a situation, pointing out some event or some feature of a situation. We could call such doings “reports.”
Or we might be saying how we feel about some person or state of affairs. We could call this “stating an opinion.”
There are general laws that require drivers to be attentive and not engage in distracting activities such as arguing whilst driving. Distracted drivers could be charged with a range of offences such as. When women argue, they are not trying to find the objective truth but rather are after manipulating the other(s) into feeling unified with them towards their opinion. If the herd believes 1+1=3, then it is correct – because the herd believes it is so.
Or we might talk about what we believe to be the case with respect to a given situation. That sounds like the word “belief” might capture the idea.
(Now, even though I just presented opinion and belief as two categories, for the purpose of this course, I’m going to suggest we not concern ourselves with insisting on their difference. In my view, they have more in common, and that’s what’s important: they are both expressions of a claim, made without supporting evidence. The difference (that one seems to express a personal feeling, while the other expresses what someone thinks is true) is less important, from the point of view of logic, than is the fact that if you add another statement, and a conclusion or premise indicating word, you’ll get an argument from them both.)
Often what we do is something like telling others what they ought to do (or what they ought not to do!) or how they ought to do it. On the positive side, this would be advice; viewed a little more negatively, you might call it a “warning.”
In none of those five cases are we providing an argument, because in none of them are we giving reasons to support what we are conveying. (But that last sentence was an argument: It proposed a reason why you should believe that none of the others were arguments. Hopefully, you noticed “because” functioning as a premise indicator.)
Reporting, advising, warning, stating your belief about something or expressing your opinion about something –these are all very commonplace everyday things we do with words. Being able to identify and name cases of them as they occur –around us and within us–is a matter of a tiny little skill at observing, paying attention, and categorizing. In Philosophy in general, and in Logic in particular, that kind of skill is quite important to cultivate.
Let’s move on to some other kinds of things that we do with words. These are a little more sophisticated perhaps.
You might claim something is true (that’s stating a belief), but then give an example of it to help make the point you’re trying to convey more clear. Giving an example is what we’ll call an “illustration.” “If it’s not obvious enough what I mean, let me draw you a picture!” one might say. And with that, I have provided an illustration of what “illustration” means.
Conditionals
You might claim that something is true on condition that something else is true. This is not the same thing as merely expressing a belief, because in this case, the believed thing is presented as dependent on some other thing, which is presented as hypothetical. To illustrate, consider this:
“If the Pope is a Nazi, I’m a monkey’s uncle.”
Strange enough proposal, you might think. And you might immediately realize that the point of it is that whoever said it wanted whoever heard it to reject as utter nonsense the notion that the Pope is a Nazi. We will call such things “conditional statements.” At first glance, it could seem that a conditional statement is making an argument: is it not proposing that something is true as a result of something else?
The answer to this question is “No.” What a conditional statement is doing is saying that one thing is the case if something else is the case. But it is not claiming that either of them actually is the case. The conditional is one single claim, not a series of claims; the word “if” brings this about.
This claim requires that we be very literal, and of course, in everyday life we seldom are. Consider the following conditional statement, one of the most consequential perhaps, of 2019, from Robert Mueller’s press conference on the day he resigned from the Justice Department: “If we had had confidence that the president clearly did not commit a crime, we would have said so.” Literally this is just a single statement. But it is hard not to hear “and we did not say so, so we do not have confidence that the president did not commit a crime.” In context, single statements can have more force than they have on their own, decontextualized. As you will see later in the course, this conditional statement is the first premise in a formal argument pattern called “Modus Tollens.”
A conditional statement has two parts. The “if” clause is known as the antecedent, and the “then” clause is known as the consequent. You’ll want to get those terms into your vocabulary if you don’t already use them. Conditionals are a very central topic in Logic, and we’ll be talking about the relations between antecedents and consequents quite a lot later on. For now, it is worth pointing out that “if” and “then” are paradigmatic ways to express conditionals in English, but not the only ways. “Then” need not be said; “if” can do all the work. Also, “if” can be expressed by other words, such as “given that,” or “provided that,” or “on condition that.” Also, in ordinary everyday language, the order in which antecedent and consequent come makes no difference:
If it rains, you’ll wish you had an umbrella.
You’ll wish you had an umbrella if it rains.
It doesn’t hurt to point out –since we’re on the topic–that there are two kinds of conditions, and that their location in a conditional statement is quite predictable. A necessary condition is a state of affairs that has to be met in order that something else happen, such as rain being necessary for plant life, or gas in the tank being necessary for the car to run.
But more than gas is needed for the car to run; it may be necessary, but it’s not all that’s needed –that is, it is not sufficient. It would require quite a lengthy list of necessary conditions to constitute the sufficient condition for a car to run.
But, if the car is already running, there is something we can be quite sure of, isn’t there? Namely that there is gas in the tank! If all we have to know is that the car is running, in order for us to know that there is gas in the tank, then the car running is a sufficient condition of there being gas in the tank.
If we try to capture this in a conditional statement, it’s going to be this one: If the car is running, there’s gas in the tank.
Now, we just saw that
a) Gas in the tank is necessary for the car to run.
and
b) The car is running is sufficient for there being gas in the tank.
This conditional statement says both these things, because the antecedent of a conditional expresses a sufficient condition (for the consequent), and the consequent expresses a necessary condition (for the antecedent).
Being a mammal is necessary for being a cat, so it makes sense to say “If Socrates is a cat, then he’s a mammal.”
And it also makes sense to say this because being a cat is sufficient for being a mammal.
Being 21 is old enough to buy a drink: that doesn’t mean that if you are 21, you can buy a drink; it means that if you can buy a drink, you’re 21. Being 21 is a necessary condition for buying a drink; it is not sufficient (you also need money, for instance).
Explanations
A final example for our purposes here in telling arguments apart from non-arguments is the case of explanations. In fact, there are two kinds of explanations, so this will give us two categories to distinguish between.
In everyday life we use “explanation” and “explain” to talk about a) making the meaning of something more clear or evident, as well as b) why things happen the way they do. For instance (illustration), if, in talking about Descartes’ Meditations, I mention his version of the ontological argument for God’s existence in the 5th Meditation, you might raise your hand and say “Can you explain why that’s an ‘ontological’ argument?” Probably, what you’re asking for is what “ontological” means in that context, i.e., you want to have some insight into the meaning of that word and its relevance. What I would offer would be an explanation in the sense of an explication: exhibiting and clarifying meaning (the meaning of a word or phrase).
But there is another perfectly standard meaning of “explanation” which is not focused on the meanings of words or actions, but on the causes of events. “What is the explanation of poverty?” asks for an account of why poverty exists, not what it is. Of course, if you put “poverty” in quotation marks, and ask “What is the explanation of ‘poverty’?,” by this shift from use to mention, you have shifted the meaning of “explanation” from “causal account” to “clarification of meaning.” Now you’re not asking what causes poverty, you’re asking what the word itself means.
Some textbooks in Logic use “expository passage” to refer to what I’m thinking of as an explication. That makes sense too, since in an expository passage, one is exposing, at some length, the meaning or significance of some claim. But I think it’s a bit more narrow than “explication,” and I think it’s not as clear, in part because there is no acknowledgement that in everyday life we use “explanation” in both senses, and it is perfectly legitimate to do so. I’ll follow the standard, however, and say that we are going to use “explanation” to mean “a causal account of why something is the way it is.” In addition, I’ll introduce “explication” (you can interchange it with “exposition” if you like) to mean “a clarification of the meaning of something.”
The distinction between arguments and explanations is quite important, and there can be cases where it is difficult to make it with complete confidence. Another way to say this is:
Words like “because” have a logical sense as well as a causal sense.
We saw at the outset of this course that “because” is a very common word for signaling a premise: whenever you encounter “A because B” you can be sure that A is the conclusion and B is the premise. Well, now we have to admit that that’s the case only if we are talking about an argument. If I replace “A” with “The lights are on” and “B” with “Someone forgot to turn them off,” then this is not an argument, but rather, an explanation. “The lights are on” is what’s called an explanandum (the thing to be explained), and “Someone left them on” is called an explanans (the thing that explains it). Pardon my Latin.
With very minor paraphrasing, we can turn this explanation into an argument (actually we don’t even need the paraphrasing; it is a matter of a shift in attention):
No one turned the lights off, therefore they are on.
What accounts for the difference?
In the one case, I know the lights are on, but I don’t know why they are. What I am given is an explanation. In the other, I don’t know they are on, but I am wondering about it, and I am given a reason to believe they are on — an argument.
When someone says “It’s going to rain because the WUSA meteorologist said so,” is this an argument or an explanation? How about “Dr. Ackermann is here today because a student saw him”?
Both are arguments. To understand them as explanations would be to say that the student’s vision had the power to hallucinate Dr. Ackermann into existence, and that the weather forecaster has the ability to make it rain, by calling for it. It just takes a second to realize that that’s not the right interpretation of either.
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Now, the rest of this chapter is simply three sets of exercises, selections of passages you can read over. Decide whether they are arguments or not. And if you think they are not, then draw on this list of non-arguments to see how it makes best sense to categorize them. They come from a range of sources, and this is the beginning of a phase in your thinking/ reading such that you should try to be mindful, and be on the lookout, as you read papers, websites, articles, etc., for these various things we do with words.
Here’s a brief audio recording that reviews these distinctions:
http://logic.umwblogs.org/files/2011/12/Non-arguments.mp3Here is a list of the seven kinds of non-arguments we’re identifying for the purposes of this class:
Advice/ warning,
Report,
Opinion/belief,
Conditional,
Illustration,
Explication,
Explanation.
It’s the first of several lists that you’ll need to commit to memory for the duration of this course (and beyond).
This link will open a Powerpoint that reviews this material:
An Impeachment Example
On January 7, 2020, the Washington Post published this quote from a statement made by John Bolton (Trump’s former National Security Adviser, who did not appear before the House of Representatives during the Impeachment Inquiry):
“It now falls to the Senate to fulfill its Constitutional obligation to try impeachments, and it does not appear possible that a final judicial resolution of the still-unanswered Constitutional questions can be obtained before the Senate acts. Accordingly, since my testimony is once again at issue, I have had to resolve the serious competing issues as best I could, based on careful consideration and study. I have concluded that, if the Senate issues a subpoena for my testimony, I am prepared to testify.”
Five of our distinctions of things done with words can be applied to explicate what is going on in this passage. See if you can spell them out as clearly as you can before you read any further.
The first statement is a Report. The second statement (the second part of the first sentence) is an Opinion or Belief. The second sentence is an Conclusion based on the report and belief (note “Accordingly”). The conclusion is really “I have had to resolve this the best I could” which is presented here as the explanandum of an Explanation: the “since” is causal, not logical. The final statement looks like a conclusion, but I think it’s more accurate to say this is a Report of a conclusion, since he does not really give any information as to how he arrived at it (except “study and consideration”). And this report of a conclusion is in the form of a Conditional Statement.
Thank you Mr. Bolton, for a great and up-to-date example!
Now go on to 3.1 and other sets of exercises to continue practicing this ability to tell arguments from non-arguments. It’s fundamental to the course to be able to avoid confusing them.
Argument is everywhere. From the kitchen table to the boardroom to the highest echelons of power, we all use argument to persuade, investigate new ideas, and make collective decisions.
Unfortunately, we often fail to consider the ethics of arguing. This makes it perilously easy to mistreat others — a critical concern in personal relationships, workplace decision-making and political deliberation.
The norms of argument
Everyone understands there are basic norms we should follow when arguing.
Logic and commonsense dictate that, when deliberating with others, we should be open to their views. We should listen carefully and try to understand their reasoning. And while we can’t all be Socrates, we should do our best to respond to their thoughts with clear, rational and relevant arguments.
Since the time of Plato, these norms have been defended on what philosophers call “epistemic” grounds. This means the norms are valuable because they promote knowledge, insight and self-understanding.
What “critical thinking” is to internal thought processes, these “norms of argument” are to interpersonal discussion and deliberation.
Read more: How to make good arguments at school (and everywhere else)
Why ‘ethical’ arguing is important
In a recent article, I contend that these norms of argument are also morally important.
Sometimes this is obvious. For example, norms of argument can overlap with commonsense ethical principles, like honesty. Deliberately misrepresenting a person’s view is wrong because it involves knowingly saying something false.
More importantly, but less obviously, being reasonable and open-minded ensures we treat our partners in argument in a consensual and reciprocal way. During arguments, people open themselves up to attaining worthwhile benefits, like understanding and truth. If we don’t “play by the rules”, we can frustrate this pursuit.
Worse, if we change their minds by misleading or bamboozling them, this can amount to the serious wrongs of manipulation or intimidation.
Instead, obeying the norms of argument shows respect for our partners in argument as intelligent, rational individuals. It acknowledges they can change their minds based on reason.
Read more: No, you're not entitled to your opinion
This matters because rationality is an important part of people’s humanity. Being “endowed with reason” is lauded in the UN’s Universal Declaration of Human Rights to support its fundamental claim that humans are born free and equal in dignity and rights.
Obeying the norms of argument also has good effects on our character. Staying open-minded and genuinely considering contrary views helps us learn more about our own beliefs.
As philosopher John Stuart Mill observed,
He who knows only his own side of the case knows little of that.
This open-mindedness helps us combat the moral perils of bias and groupthink.
What’s more, the norms of argument aren’t just good for individuals, they are also good for groups. They allow conflicts and collective decisions to be approached in a respectful, inclusive way, rather than forcing an agreement or escalating the conflict.
Indeed, arguments can make collectives. Two arguers, over time, can collectively achieve a shared intellectual creation. As partners in argument, they define terms, acknowledge areas of shared agreement, and mutually explore each other’s reasons. They do something together.
All this accords with everyday experience. Many of us have enjoyed the sense of respect when our views have been welcomed, heard and seriously considered. And all of us know what it feels like to have our ideas dismissed, misrepresented or caricatured.
Why we have trouble arguing calmly
Unfortunately, being logical, reasonable and open-minded is easier said than done. When we argue with others, their arguments will inevitably call into question our beliefs, values, experience and competence.
These challenges are not easy to face calmly, especially if the topic is one we care about. This is because we like to think of ourselves as effective and capable, rather than mistaken or misguided. We also care about our social standing and like to project confidence.
Read more: Arguments matter, even if they come down to “semantics”
In addition, we suffer from confirmation bias, so we actively avoid evidence that we are wrong.
Finally, we may have material stakes riding on the argument’s outcome. After all, one of the main reasons we engage in argument is to get our way. We want to convince others to do what we want and follow our lead.
All this means that when someone challenges our convictions, we are psychologically predisposed to hit back hard.
Worse still, our capacity to evaluate whether our opponents are obeying the norms of argument is poor. All the psychological processes mentioned above don’t just make it hard to argue calmly and reasonably. They also trick us into mistakenly thinking our opponents are being illogical, making us feel as if it’s them, and not us, who’s failing to argue properly.
How should we navigate the moral complexity of arguing?
Arguing morally isn’t easy, but here are five tips to help:
Avoid thinking that when someone starts up an argument, they are mounting an attack. To adapt a saying by Oscar Wilde, there is only one thing in the world worse than being argued with, and that is not being argued with. Reasoned argument acknowledges a person’s rationality, and that their opinion matters.
There is always more going on in any argument than who wins and who loses. In particular, the relationship between the two arguers can be at stake. Often, the real prize is demonstrating respect, even as we disagree.
Don’t be too quick to judge your opponent’s standards of argument. There’s a good chance you’ll succumb to “defensive reasoning”, where you’ll use all your intelligence to find fault with their views, instead of genuinely reflecting on what they are saying. Instead, try and work with them to clarify their reasoning.
Never assume that others aren’t open to intelligent argument. History is littered with examples of people genuinely changing their minds, even in the most high stakes environments imaginable.
It’s possible for both sides to “lose” an argument. The recently announced inquiry into question time in parliament provides a telling example. Even as the government and opposition strive to “win” during this daily show of political theatre, the net effect of their appalling standards is that everyone’s reputation suffers.
The upshot
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There is a saying in applied ethics that the worst ethical decisions you’ll ever make are the ones you don’t recognise as ethical decisions.
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So, when you find yourself in the thick of argument, do your best to remember what’s morally at stake.
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Otherwise, there’s a risk you might lose a lot more than you win.