A logical conclusion: the slippery slope of logical fallacies

My dorky friends and I love to talk about what makes a good argument and the pitfalls of logical fallacies. This is one of my all-time favorite topics of discussion, which is no doubt why I’m widely regarded to be so hip and cool. (Note: Anyone who calls herself “hip and cool”… is not.)

Anyway, I’ve wanted to write a blog post for some time on logical fallacies, but I didn’t think I had any original thought to add to the subject. I needed a good, solid example with a common thread running through it—and boy, have I found it.

In response to a controversy that is brewing in my hometown of Dahlonega, Ga., regarding teacher-led prayer in school, I started a new Facebook page called LC True. The “yes to teacher-led prayer in school” crowd has plenty of support (including that of the principal and school board), so I wanted to provide a place for students, teachers, parents, community members, and anyone else to come together and discuss the issues. I hoped, among other things, to provide high school students with support and to let them know that someone out there is listening to them. As a side-effect, I hoped to deflect some wrath away from 15-year-olds and onto myself, ‘cause I can take it. (Mission accomplished!)

In all of the arguing back and forth, I’ve been fascinated by the logical fallacies that have hit the table. I think it’s an interesting illustration, so I wanted to share some of them. (I’m not saying that I’m immune to logical fallacies. My friend Tim had diagnosed me with a Straw Man problem at one time, and he was right!)

How do you know?

One of my Criminal Justice professors used to challenge us like this: “How do you KNOW what you know?” This was a life-changing question for me, because until that point, I could get away with bad argument. At that moment, I became fascinated with what makes a good argument—in other words, are we weighing the facts and truly proving or disproving a premise to get closer to the truth? When people utter that obnoxious phrase “education teaches you how to think!,” this is what they mean, I believe.

A sound argument is based on a fact which supports a premise, which leads in turn to a conclusion. If the facts are sound and the premise is sound, the conclusion will be true. For example: All humans are mammals. If Robin is a human, then Robin must also be a mammal.

This example is so simple as to be silly, but what if we say this:

It is a violation of the First Amendment’s Establishment Clause for public school teachers to lead students in school prayer.

The teachers at LCHS led students in a Christian prayer at LCHS on Wednesday, May 1, 2013.

The teachers therefore violated the First Amendment.

(Now, of course, there are many mini-arguments to be made here. The first statement is not really valid unless you first show that the Supreme Court has held that public schoolteachers are agents of the state, and that as such, if they lead students in religious activities, it’s the same as the state sponsoring a religion. Also, you’d need to show that teachers were present and led or aided in the prayer. Plus, you’ll want to discuss the Establishment Clause and cite Supreme Court cases holding that the Establishment Clause says what you think it says.)

Fighting fair

In a previous blog post and on the LC True page, I’m making the above argument. A lot of people have disagreed with me, as I hoped they would. It can be frustrating, though, that we’re not arguing about the same thing. In fact, we appear to agree on some key points, and yet disagreement persists in spite of that. Why is this? How can we agree and disagree at the same time?

Religion is the most emotional subject around, and by definition we have deeply-held beliefs about it. I suspect our arguments often fail because not only are we not playing by the same rules, we’re not even playing the same game. For example, I once heard a brilliant scientist discuss evolution. She carefully laid out her premises, which included key points from the fossil record. An audience member said, “That stuff is not true. Satan put those fossils there to fool you!” She responded: “I can’t argue with that logic,” and the man left, satisfied that he had won the argument. The audience were outraged! How could this brilliant woman fail to put this clown in his place? She explained: He’s using a different system of logic. If he’s allowed to punt in favor of the supernatural, we’re not arguing about the same thing at all. There’s no use arguing.

With that in mind, here are some examples of a few logical fallacies from the LC True movement. (Fair is fair: I’ve tried to find examples from all sides of the issue.)

Ad hominem

Latin for “to the man,” this method attempts to refute a person’s premise by attacking the person herself and not the premise.

Example: “You’re wrong. You can’t see the truth because you’re not a Christian. You are arrogant; you think you’re so smart, etc.” and from the other side: “(A certain teacher) once made a racist, sexist, etc., comment to me when I was in school there, so you can see he doesn’t care about children.”

I will note here that I’ve been tempted to make one of these arguments myself. When more than one person demanded that I declare my religion, prayer habits, and plans for the afterlife in public, I had to refrain from comparing this tactic to Nazism. Also, it’s easy (but wrong) to make someone look stupid by attacking poor spelling and grammar.

Ad ignorantium

Because we don’t know it’s NOT true, it must be true.

Example: “You weren’t there, so you can’t say that God wasn’t moving at that school. You can’t prove that God didn’t command this.” Also, I would add this: “Some things are true but can’t be proven with logic and reason.”

No True Scotsman

This occurs when your opponent tries to disprove your premise by offering examples of why it’s not true. If I argue that all Scotsmen wear kilts all the time, and you show me pictures of Sean Connery and Billy Connolly in pants, I could erroneously say, “Well, then, they’re not TRUE Scotsmen.”

Example: One person argued that the county is majority Christian and that all Christians support teacher-led prayer in school. Another person countered: “I’m a Christian, and I think what happened was wrong.” The response: Well, then, you’re not a TRUE Christian.

Post-hoc ergo propter hoc

Latin: “After this therefore because of this”—because an event happened after another event, the first event caused the second.

Example: “The Supreme Court took prayer out of school. Then, you had all these school shootings.” From another viewpoint: “I wonder if this recent prayer-in-school movement is responsible for the drop in the LCHS graduation rate.”

Straw Man

Rather than refuting the original premise, you make up a new premise and refute THAT “straw man” premise.

Example: “You’re wrong! It’s not illegal for people to pray in public” (when the issue is whether it’s a violation of the Establishment Clause for teachers to lead prayer, etc.).

Hey, nobody is saying it should be illegal to pray in public, but that’s not what the controversy’s about.

Moving the goalpost

When your opponent successfully refutes your premise, you change your premise.

Example: “Big deal. It was before school and only last a few minutes into first period.” Counter: “No, it lasted until nearly 2 p.m.” “Well, so what. It was student-led.” “No, up to 12 teachers participated.” “Yeah, but it was voluntary.” “Not really, because…” Etc.

Slippery slope

This fallacy warns us that, if we accept a premise, it will inevitably lead to the extreme of that premise.
Example: “If you don’t let teachers follow their convictions, the next thing you know, you’ll be saying that they can’t pray at their desks in private—or even at home.” OR “If you let these kids pray, you’ll have to set up special foot-washing stations for Muslim prayer at taxpayer expense. Then, we’ll be forced to serve kosher meals in the lunchroom.”

A logical conclusion

It’s easy for any of us to become flustered when arguing—particularly when we’re arguing about a touch subject like religion—and to seek refuge in a logical fallacy. This is a complex problem, though, so we’ve got to stick to the real issues. If we don’t we’ve got no hopes of finding common ground, and we owe it to those high school kids to try. You can’t argue with that logic.