Apologetics

APOLOGIA

By Hendrik van der Breggen
The Carillon, April 1, 2015

Apologetics

What is apologetics? Why is it important for Christians?

Apologetics is the intellectual discipline/ practice in which one presents reasons for one’s worldview or philosophy or spirituality, to commend it as true—done typically in response to questions or objections, to arbitrate between competing worldviews, philosophies, and spiritualities.

"Apologetics" derives from the Greek word apologia, which means a reasoned defence or justification of an intellectual position or even conduct. Plato’s book Apology is an extended apologia in which Socrates defends himself at a trial against false charges of corrupting Athenian youth, charges that arose from his relentless questioning of Athenian cultural pretenses. (An apology, then, doesn't always mean saying sorry.)

For truth-seeking individuals, the doing of apologetics—the presenting of an apologia—involves not only setting out reasons for a position, but also carefully assessing the reasons pro and con. If there are false or deceptive worldviews, philosophies, and spiritualities, we should strive to be critical thinkers who discern truth.

Specifically Christian apologetics involves setting out reasons for commending the Gospel as truth and refuting objections to knowledge of God, and such apologetics is to be done with gentleness and respect (1 Peter 3:15).

Why is apologetics important for Christians?

There are at least three reasons, which Christian philosopher, theologian, and apologist William Lane Craig sets out in his book On Guard: Defending Your Faith with Reason and Precision.

First, apologetics (done well) shapes culture in such a way that it inclines people to be more open to the good news of Jesus Christ. That is, apologetics creates an intellectual milieu such that the truths concerning the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus are not wholly dismissed as mere superstition. The alleged truths become, in the words of William James, a "live hypothesis" (i.e., a real possibility to be considered).

(This fits with what the Christian philosopher Francis Schaeffer called "pre-evangelism." This also fits with the notion of apologetics more broadly defined by religion professor John Stackhouse Jr., who suggests that "anything that helps people take Christianity more seriously than they did before, anything that helps defend and commend it, properly counts as apologetics." Stackhouse includes art and music.)

Second, apologetics strengthens those who are already followers of Jesus. I can attest personally that knowing that there are good reasons for believing that God exists, that Jesus claimed to be God, and that Jesus did in fact resurrect bodily after being killed—knowing these reasons helps me continue to be a follower of Jesus when I'm in doubt or struggling. Apologetics has helped me maintain my faith (and grow in faith) through three philosophy degrees at universities that were sometimes intellectually inhospitable to Christianity.

Third, apologetics wins people to Christ. Craig writes: "Like a missionary called to reach an obscure people group, the Christian apologist is burdened to reach that minority of persons who will respond to rational argument and evidence."

Craig goes on to point out that he and apologist Lee Strobel (author of the popular books The Case for Christ and The Case for Faith) "continually are thrilled to see people committing their lives to Christ through presentations of the gospel coupled with apologetics." Craig adds that Strobel "has lost count of the number of people who have come to Christ through his books." Many persons have also come to Christ through Craig's well-attended debates with leading atheists, agnostics, and Muslims.

Clearly, the Holy Spirit uses reason and evidence to draw people to God!

Of course, apologetics isn't the only means whereby people are drawn to God. Living a life characterized by love of God and neighbour—what Craig calls the "ultimate apologetic"—is crucial. So is prayer.

To learn more about Christian apologetics, I invite readers to take the one-week course Special Studies in Philosophy of Religion: William Lane Craig's Campus Apologetics. This course will be offered at Providence University College from April 20 to 24 (check ProvidenceUC.ca) and will be taught by…me.

Happy Easter!

(Hendrik van der Breggen, PhD, is associate professor of philosophy at Providence University College. The views in this column do not always reflect the views of Providence.)

Resources that I've found helpful and which I recommend: 

• Paul Copan, Loving Wisdom: Christian Philosophy of Religion
• William Lane Craig, On Guard: Defending Your Faith with Reason and Precision
• William Lane Craig, Reasonable Faith: Christian Truth and Apologetics
• John S. Feinberg, Can You Believe It's True? Christian Apologetics in a Modern and Postmodern Era
• Douglas Groothuis, On Jesus
• If God Made the Universe, Who Made God? 130 Arguments for Christian Faith
• Nabeel Qureshi, Seeking Allah, Finding Jesus: A Devout Muslim Encounters Christianity
• John Stackhouse, Jr., Humble Apologetics: Defending the Faith Today

Genetic Fallacy

APOLOGIA
By Hendrik van der Breggen
The Carillon, April 7, 2011

Genetic Fallacy

A fallacy is a mistake in reasoning or argument. Some fallacies are so common that they have been given their own names. Today we will look at the genetic fallacy.

Philosopher J. P. Moreland explains the genetic fallacy as follows: "This fallacy occurs when someone confuses the origin [genesis] of an idea with the reasons for believing the idea and faults the idea because of where it came from (for example, because of who said it or how the idea first came to believed) and not because of the adequacy of the grounds for the idea."

For example, consider this argument (said by a critic of objective moral truth): You learned about right and wrong from your parents, so your beliefs about the reality of right and wrong should be dismissed.

In reply, let's say it's true that I learned about right and wrong from my parents. We should notice, however, that from this truth it does not follow logically that what I learned should be dismissed as false.

My parents also taught me that Ottawa is the capital city of Canada, that water freezes at 0 degrees Celsius (under normal atmospheric conditions), that the Holocaust happened, and that 2+2=4. Surely, whether we should think that a belief is true depends on whether there are good reasons for believing it, not merely on where or from whom it was learned.

C. S. Lewis writes the following as a general reply to those who are inclined to commit the genetic fallacy (Lewis had in mind the Marxists and Freudians of his time): "[Y]ou must show that a man is wrong before you start explaining why he is wrong. The modern method [of argumentation] is to assume without discussion that he is wrong and then distract his attention from this (the only real issue) by busily explaining how he became so silly."

So the question that's missed or dismissed by the critic is this: Regardless of whether my parents taught me about right and wrong—regardless of how I "became so silly"—do I have good reasons for thinking that moral truths actually exist? The fact is that I—we—do. (Take a look at philosopher Paul Chamberlain’s book Can We Be Good Without God, available in many libraries, or take a look at chapter 2 of my PhD dissertation, available online.)

The genetic fallacy would have us ignore this fact right from the get go.

Now consider another example (a criticism of Christianity, which is popular in our present postmodern era): You are a Christian because you grew up in a Christian country, but if you grew up in a Muslim country you'd probably be a Muslim—so your religious beliefs should be dismissed.

Okay, let's say it's true that I grew up in a Christian country, and let's say it's true that growing up in a Christian or Muslim country makes it probable that I would be, respectively, a Christian or a Muslim. These are interesting truths. But they're beside the point.

Whether one's Christian or Muslim beliefs should be accepted or dismissed depends on whether there are good reasons for those beliefs, not merely on where or from whom the beliefs were learned.

So the question that's missed or dismissed by the critic is this: Regardless of where I grew up—regardless of how I "became so silly"—do I have good reasons for thinking that Jesus is God and Muhammad isn't? The fact is that I—we—do. (Take a look at philosopher William Lane Craig’s books Reasonable Faith or On Guard, available in most bookstores, or take a look at the rest of my PhD dissertation.)

Again, the genetic fallacy would have us ignore this fact right from the get go.

Moreland clarifies the problem that lurks at the heart of the genetic fallacy by drawing much-needed attention to an oft-missed distinction. In answering the question—Why do you believe in x?—the genetic fallacy gains traction because people tend to confuse a psychological-sociological originating "why" with a rational-justifying "why."

To be sure, answering the why question in terms of personal or social origins is interesting and important from the point of view of psychology and sociology. Personality quirks and motives plus social and cultural contexts can and do influence what we believe—and it's good to be aware of this. (Think of Joe whose ego is so huge that he believes he can never do wrong, or think of Jane who is racist because she grew up in a society that promotes the view that one race is inferior to another.)

Nevertheless, and this point is crucial, answering the why question in terms of whether the belief is actually well grounded in truth and reason is a different, independent question—and answering this question allows us to assess the logical and truth-related merits of the psychological and sociological influences. (By discerning truth, we can know that both Joe and Jane are mistaken.)

Why do you believe in x? Answers to the psychological-sociological “why” may provide grounds to suspect that belief in x is problematic, but answers for the rational-justifying “why” must be dealt with first.

The genetic fallacy occurs, then, when one thinks that the psychological and sociological factors in an idea's discovery are the whole story when in fact there's another, more fundamental story—one that has to do with the testing and justification of the idea via truth, evidence, and critical reasoning.

What's silly is the genetic fallacy.

P.S. For further reading on the genetic fallacy, I recommend C. S. Lewis's essay "Bulverism" which can be found in his book God in the Dock. (Lewis's book is available in most libraries and bookstores; his essay is also available online).

Update: Here is a very short video interview with William Lane Craig on the Genetic Fallacy: The One Minute Apologist.

(Hendrik van der Breggen, PhD, is assistant professor of philosophy at Providence College, Manitoba, Canada. The views in this column do not always reflect the views of Providence.)

The Straw Man Fallacy

APOLOGIABy Hendrik van der Breggen

(The Carillon, August 13, 2009)

The Straw Man Fallacy
A fallacy is a mistake in reasoning or argument. Some fallacies are so common that they have been given a name. The straw man fallacy occurs when a person criticizes a weak position that an author did not really hold and then concludes—on the basis of the criticized misrepresentation—that the author’s real position is logically flawed.

In other words, instead of the real flesh-and-blood version of the opponent’s view or argument, the critic sets out a straw scarecrow or fake target-practice version of the opponent’s view or argument, and then proceeds to knock down the straw version as if it were the real McCoy.

But finding a logical flaw in a misrepresentation isn’t the same as finding a logical flaw in the original argument.

Some instances of the straw man fallacy are easy to spot. Jane says to John: “Valentine’s Day is overrated, so please don’t purchase me any expensive gifts.” John later tells Jake: “Jane thinks Valentine’s Day exploits men, so she should be okay with me not giving her anything.” Clearly, John has misrepresented Jane’s view (and John may be in some serious trouble).

But other instances of the straw man fallacy are not so easy to spot.

In the preface of an academic book criticizing Intelligent Design theory, Richard Dawkins (Oxford University’s professor for the public understanding of science) writes the following as a summary representation and dismissal of the case for Intelligent Design: “[Intelligent Design] leaps straight from the difficulty—‘I can’t see any solution to the problem’—to the cop-out—‘Therefore a Higher Power must have done it.’” [Richard Dawkins, "Foreword," in Niall Shanks, God, the Devil, and Darwin: A Critique of Intelligent Design Theory (Oxford & New York: Oxford University Press, 2004), ix.]

In other words, Dawkins characterizes Intelligent Design (ID) as an argument from ignorance or gaps in our knowledge: I don’t know how X happened, therefore X must have been due to an intelligent designer—and, of course, such an argument is weak (a “cop-out”).

If this is what ID actually does, then Dawkins would have a point. Dawkins’ point is beside the point, however, because he misrepresents the view he is criticizing.

In my study of ID literature (for part of my PhD), I found that ID proponents do not argue, “I can’t see any solution to the problem…therefore a Higher Power did it.” Rather, they argue in a much more sophisticated manner, as follows: (1) The scientific community knows that, after years of investigating X and learning about nature’s capacities regarding X, there is much positive evidence for thinking that non-intelligent causes are not able to produce X; (2) the more we investigate X, the more we know that the structure of X bears features that closely resemble the effects of known intelligent causes; (3) therefore, in view of what we know, it is reasonable to think that an intelligent cause is responsible for X; (4) of course, we could be mistaken, but this is where the known evidence presently points us.

In other words, and contrary to what Dawkins would have us believe, ID’s appeal to an intelligent cause is based on what we know, not on what we don’t know. It’s based (tentatively) on positive knowledge, not on knowledge gaps or ignorance.

In the above case, then, Dawkins commits the straw man fallacy: he criticizes ID by misrepresenting it as a feeble straw caricature.

Whether we agree with Intelligent Design or not, this principle of careful logical thinking remains: If we are going to critique a view, we should at least represent it accurately. No straw men allowed.

(Hendrik van der Breggen, PhD, is assistant professor of philosophy at Providence College, Otterburne, Manitoba. The views in this column do not always reflect the views of Providence.)

The Ad Hominem Fallacy

APOLOGIA
By Hendrik van der Breggen

(The Carillon, July 2, 2009)

The Ad Hominem Fallacy

A fallacy is a mistake in reasoning or argument. Some fallacies are so common that they have been given their own names. The ad hominem fallacy is the mistake of criticizing an arguer instead of his/her argument, when doing so is not relevant. (Argumentum ad hominem is Latin for “argument to/against the man.”)

The ad hominem fallacy occurs when something about the arguer’s person—his/her character, attitude, ethnicity, race, religion, sex, circumstance, or even behaviour—is attacked instead of the truth claims or logical structure of the argument presented, when this something about the arguer’s person has no bearing on the truth or logic of the argument presented.

Some instances of the ad hominem fallacy are easy to spot. Consider the following arguments:

“Einstein is Jewish, therefore his theory of relativity should be rejected.”

“Your doctor is a woman, therefore don’t believe what she says about prostate cancer.”

Clearly, in the above arguments the premise (i.e., the bit before “therefore”) is not relevant to the conclusion (the bit after “therefore”).

But some instances of the ad hominem fallacy are not so easy to spot.

Consider an example from the abortion debate. A pro-life spokesperson—a man—has just set out several detailed arguments for thinking that what is aborted is in fact a human being with the right to life. After his presentation, someone from the audience says the following (loudly and angrily): “You are a man, therefore your arguments against abortion don’t count!”

The above “critique” commits the ad hominem fallacy.

The arguer (the pro-life spokesperson) is being criticized (for being male) resulting in the dismissal of the arguer’s argument (his case concerning the fetus’s status as a human being having rights). Neglected by the critic, however, is the fact that an argument should be assessed on the basis of its merits (or lack thereof), not on the basis of whether the argument has been set out by a male or a female.

The crucial but missed issue is whether the argument is logically cogent; the sex/gender of the arguer is wholly beside the point.

Now consider an example from the homosexuality debate. A gentleman respectfully sets out an argument for questioning the wisdom of celebrating Gay Pride parades, which promote homosexual sex. His argument appeals (1) to a couple of serious medical problems associated with some homosexual sexual practices, especially for males, and (2) to the apparent general difficulty of homosexual couples maintaining long-term monogamous relationships. The response from several critics (stated loudly and angrily): the man is a “homophobe,” therefore we should ignore him.

The above “critique” also commits the ad hominem fallacy.

First, it is important to note that a person can have legitimate, reasonable concerns about a behaviour if there are in fact some serious medical and/or social health issues associated with the behaviour. In other words, not all such concerns are irrational fears or phobias. (As politically incorrect as this may sound, the public does have a legitimate interest in behaviour that may harm people, cost public health dollars, and/or promote domestic arrangements which aren’t in the best interests of children.)

Second, neglected by the critics is the fact (again) that an argument should be assessed on the basis of its merits (or lack thereof), not on the basis of whether the argument has been set out by a homophobe or a non-homophobe.

The crucial but missed issue is whether the argument is logically cogent; the homophobic/non-homophobic attitude of the arguer is wholly beside the point.

A homophobic attitude of the arguer might provide grounds to suspect that the arguer’s argument is poorly constructed; nevertheless, the argument itself should be assessed to determine whether it is in fact poorly constructed.

Of course, sometimes ad hominem arguments are not fallacious, as, say, when a smart lawyer presents good evidence for thinking that a witness is not trustworthy and so the witness’s testimony should not be accepted.

How, then, can we tell the difference between acceptable and non-acceptable ad hominem arguments? Answer: Via the art of critical thinking—coupled with the courage not to be intimidated by irrelevant personal attacks.

(Hendrik van der Breggen, PhD, is assistant professor of philosophy at Providence College, Otterburne, Manitoba. The views in this column do not always reflect the views of Providence.)

More Critical Thinking Clarifications: Tolerance vs. Tolerance

APOLOGIABy Hendrik van der Breggen
(The Carillon, June 18, 2009)

More Critical Thinking Clarifications: Tolerance vs. Tolerance

In previous installments of Apologia we disentangled three blurred conceptual distinctions which hinder the art of argument and critical thinking: judge vs. judge (i.e., damn vs. cognitive discernment), argument vs. argument (i.e., quarrel vs. premises supporting a conclusion), and opinion vs. opinion (i.e., mere guess vs. reasonable belief).

This week we will disentangle a fourth blurred distinction: tolerance vs. tolerance.

“Be tolerant” is today’s oft-heard moral imperative. This principle of tolerance sounds good, but critical thinkers should ask: Is it sound?

Answer: No and yes.

It turns out that there are two senses of “tolerance.” Let’s call them tolerance 1 and tolerance 2. (If my labels seem to lack imagination, blame Dr. Seuss.)

Tolerance 1 is the contemporary popular understanding of tolerance. On this understanding, all views or lifestyles are accepted as somehow equal and true and good. “It’s all interpretation,” so a view/behaviour may be “true for you, but not for me” (and vice versa).

According to tolerance 1, you are intolerant if you disagree with someone’s ideas or conduct, that is, if you think someone is actually mistaken or wrong. According to contemporary popular culture, such intolerance is always a sin.

Sin or no sin, tolerance 1 is false. From the point of view of reason and morality, it’s simply not the case that all ideas and acts are equal, it’s simply not the case that all interpretations are equal.

Think about it. That the Holocaust occurred is true and well supported by evidence, whereas the belief to the contrary is false and not well supported by evidence. That 5+5=10 is true logically, whereas 5+5=11 isn’t true logically.

Think about it some more. Western democracy is a better idea morally than a Nazi government (because the former tends to respect the intrinsic moral worth of people whereas the latter does not). Talking with one’s spouse to resolve a dispute is a better idea morally than beating one’s spouse (because ditto). Child care is a better idea morally than child abuse (because ditto). You get the picture.

Now, consider tolerance 2, which is the classic understanding of tolerance. Tolerance 2 is the practice of forbearance (i.e., patience, self-control, and respect in the face of provocation) toward other persons who hold beliefs or engage in conduct with which we strongly disagree. It’s a willingness to accept a person’s right to espouse a view or engage in a behaviour even though we think the idea is mistaken or the conduct unwise or even immoral.

According to tolerance 2, intolerance is not always a sin. We may be appropriately intolerant of an idea if the idea is truly false and can be shown to be false, and we may be appropriately intolerant of a behavior if the behavior is truly harmful to others and can be shown to be harmful to others.

For example, according to tolerance sense 2, teachers are appropriately intolerant of false answers on an exam and of bullies on the school playground. Also, judges are appropriately intolerant of perjury and of murderers. Also, citizens are appropriately intolerant of governments or other organizations which engage in disinformation or commit (or prepare to commit) genocide.

Clearly, the classic understanding of tolerance (tolerance 2) is superior, intellectually and morally, when compared to the contemporary popular understanding of tolerance (tolerance 1).

Of course, the question now arises: Who’s to say what’s true and good? That is to ask: How do we arbitrate between competing claims about what’s true and good?

Answer: We are to say what’s true and good. How? By discerning what’s true and good via critical thinking—i.e., careful investigation coupled with a humble and truth-seeking heart.

Prayer is helpful too.

(Hendrik van der Breggen, PhD, is assistant professor of philosophy at Providence College, Otterburne, Manitoba. The views in this column do not always reflect the views of Providence.)

P.S. The photo above is of the Holocaust Memorial Museum in Washington D.C., shortly after white supremacist Holocaust-denier James W. von Brunn went on a shooting spree, killing security guard Stephen T. Johns.

Critical Thinking Clarifications Continued: Opinion vs. Opinion

APOLOGIABy Hendrik van der Breggen

(The Carillon, June 4, 2009)

Critical Thinking Clarifications Continued: Opinion vs. Opinion
In contemporary popular culture the art of argument and critical thinking seems to have become a sometimes forgotten art, if not a lost art. Moreover, lack of proficiency in this art seems due in part to a blurring of (at least) four important conceptual distinctions.

In a previous installment of Apologia we disentangled two of these blurred distinctions: judge vs. judge (damn vs. cognitive discernment), and argument vs. argument (quarrel vs. premises supporting a conclusion). This week we will disentangle a third blurred distinction: opinion vs. opinion.

The following claim often signals the end of what may have begun as an interesting conversation about an important topic: “Everyone is entitled to their opinion.” The idea is that all opinions are equal, and so we can’t go any further intellectually. In other words: please shut up.

Legally and politically, the claim that everyone is entitled to their opinion is true (at least in most Western countries). Logically and evidentially, however, the claim often is not true.

In other words, yes, we do have the right to hold any opinion, but that doesn’t automatically make the opinion right. I have the right to believe that the moon is made of cheese, but that doesn’t mean the moon is made of cheese. Members of the Heaven’s Gate religious cult have the right to believe that killing themselves will get them onto a spaceship behind a comet, but that doesn’t make this religious claim reasonable to believe.

Also, yes, we do have the right to hold any opinion, but that doesn’t automatically make the opinion wrong either. It could be that an opinion corresponds with the facts. In my opinion, the moon is made of some sort of rock. In my opinion, there’s no good evidence for thinking that suicide is a ticket to ride on a spaceship.

To avoid being bamboozled by everyone-is-entitled-to-their-opinion, careful thinkers should make a distinction between (a) mere opinion and (b) opinion as reasonable belief. Careful thinkers should also understand that these sorts of opinion are on opposite ends of a continuum.

On the mere opinion end of the continuum, an opinion is basically a guess or an ungrounded intellectual stab at getting something right. For example, in my (mere) opinion, when my car engine sputters it’s because of some moisture in the gas line. I confess: I am not mechanically inclined, so I’m guessing—and I’m probably mistaken. The sputtering is probably due to dirty spark plugs, or a plugged air filter, or a malfunctioning carburetor, or…. You get the picture. (And, yes, unscrupulous mechanics usually smile with dollar signs in their eyes when they see me walk into their garage.)

On the other end of the continuum, we have opinion as reasonable belief. Such an opinion is well supported by good arguments and evidence and so we are justified in our confidence in thinking the opinion is probably true. Such opinion verges on knowledge or perhaps even is knowledge.

For example, my son’s opinion that his BMW has more horsepower than Ma and Pa’s ancient Mazda is an opinion that’s supported not just by the wonderful (but all too short) drive I was allowed to have in the BMW, but also by various reports from automotive experts. My son’s opinion is not a mere opinion; it’s a reasonable belief.

Another example: Let’s say that you have five doctors’ opinions which say you have cancer. Surely, it would be reasonable to think that you do have cancer! (Hopefully you don’t have cancer, but you get the point.)

In between the two ends of the opinion continuum—i.e., between mere opinion and opinion as reasonable belief—we have opinions that are either weakly or strongly supported, depending on the quality of the evidence and arguments that have been mustered.

So, what should we do the next time we set out a claim backed up with some good reasons and then someone dismisses our view saying, “Well, that’s just your opinion” or “Everyone has a right to their opinion”? We can respond (politely), “Yes, this is my opinion, but it’s not a mere opinion; it’s a reasonable opinion. I’ve got some good reasons for it. So which of these reasons do you think are problematic, and what are your reasons for thinking this?”

Happily, having dispensed with the mind-numbing everyone-is-entitled-to-their-opinion mantra, we could now have a conversation that actually respects the mind of the person with whom we’re talking.

Next week: tolerance vs. tolerance.

(Hendrik van der Breggen, PhD, is assistant professor of philosophy at Providence College, Otterburne, Manitoba. The views in this column do not always reflect the views of Providence.)

Critical Thinking Clarifications: Judge vs. Judge, Argument vs. Argument

APOLOGIA
By Hendrik van der Breggen

(The Carillon, May 21, 2009)

Critical Thinking Clarifications: Judge vs. Judge, Argument vs. Argument

Part of the core of a liberal arts education is the art of argument and critical thinking. I hope I don’t sound snobby saying so, but in contemporary popular culture the art of argument and critical thinking seems to have become a sometimes forgotten art, if not a lost art. Moreover, lack of proficiency in this art seems due in part to a blurring of (at least) four important conceptual distinctions.

In today’s installment of Apologia I would like to disentangle two of these blurred distinctions.

Blurred distinction #1: Judge vs. judge

“Don’t be judgmental,” we are often told. Many people today take this to mean that we should not judge positions/ views as true or false, plausible or implausible, right or wrong. With all due respect, these people are mistaken.

Yes, of course we shouldn’t be judgmental if by “judge” we mean to dismiss another person as morally inferior or worthless (usually when compared to oneself) or we mean to damn that other person (to hell). After all, Jesus said, “Do not judge, or you too will be judged” (Matthew 7:1). It would seem that this sort of judging is God’s job, not ours.

However, Jesus also said, “Stop judging by mere appearances, and make a right judgment” (John 7:24). There is, then, another sense of “judge” which is our job, not just God’s. By this sense of “judge” we mean the cognitive activity of making an accurate discernment.

Surely, some judgments are true and right: e.g., that the earth revolves around the sun; that clean drinking water and food are necessary for good health; that we should try to alleviate the suffering of others. Surely, too, some judgments are false and wrong: e.g., that the earth is the centre of our solar system; that oil spills help animal life flourish; that it’s morally permissible for a father to lock his daughter in a basement so he can rape her.

So, contrary to popular opinion—and as odd as it may sound to contemporary ears—sometimes we should be judgmental (in the sense of making an accurate discernment). Significantly, this requires proficiency in the art of argument and critical thinking.

Blurred distinction #2: Argument vs. argument

“Don’t argue,” we are often told too. Again, an unnoticed ambiguity needs to be brought to light.

The word “argument” can mean quarrel, which happens when voices are raised, fists are clenched, and more heat than light is generated. If this is what we mean by “don’t argue,” then—yes, please—do not argue!

However, the word “argument” can also mean rational persuasion. In this sense, an argument involves a set of statements (premises) which are used to support, prove, or give reasons for another statement (conclusion). Such arguments are used in courts of law, in medicine, in the sciences, in history, in theology, in philosophy—in all careful investigation.

In this second sense of “argument”—i.e., argument as rational persuasion—the art of arguing is a collaborative affair. That is, when engaging in argument (sense 2) people work together to discern which position has the best reasons for thinking it’s true (or not). An important aid to success in this collaboration is that people show respect to those with whom they disagree. In this way, one’s ego or culture doesn’t readily get in the way of truth, since others often know more than we do, and their arguments may be better than ours.

If “don’t argue” means that we should not engage in argument as rational persuasion, then we are inadvertently promoting forms of non-rational persuasion: e.g., propaganda, emotional manipulation, and appeals to force. Significantly, to avoid such non-rational persuasion requires proficiency in the art of argument and critical thinking.

The art of argument and critical thinking is a staple of a liberal arts education. Clearly, a society that promotes liberal arts education is a society that respects and nourishes the minds of its citizens.

Next: Opinion vs. opinion, and tolerance vs. tolerance.

(Hendrik van der Breggen, PhD, is assistant professor of philosophy at Providence College, Otterburne, Manitoba. Providence is a Christian liberal arts college.)

The Principle of Non-Contradiction

APOLOGIA
By Hendrik van der Breggen

The Carillon, May 7, 2009

The Principle of Non-Contradiction

Near the beginning of C. S. Lewis’s The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, a wise professor (in whose home the Pevensie children first discover a passage to Narnia) utters in exasperation, “Logic! Why don’t they teach logic at these schools?”

Lewis (1898-1963) was bemoaning a general lack of proficiency in logic and critical thinking. Were he alive today, I suspect Lewis’s exasperation would continue.

Hoping Lewis would approve, I am going to devote occasional installments of Apologia to the clarification of some fundamental principles of logic and critical thinking.

For starters, let’s consider the Principle of Non-Contradiction (PNC). PNC says this: It is not the case that something can both be and not be, at the same time and in the same sense. The truth of PNC is known via rational intuition/insight: we simply “see” it to be true, once we think about it.

Strictly speaking, PNC cannot be proved because PNC is foundational to logic and thinking. Nevertheless, it seems quite reasonable to offer an indirect defence of PNC. How? By relying on PNC long enough to allow us to have a look at what would be the case if we attempted to abandon PNC.

(Note: We needn't be embarrassed at this limited question-begging since any opponent of PNC would have to do this too when he or she relies on PNC to argue for, contemplate, or assert the rejection of PNC.)

As an indirect defence of PNC, consider the following fun but insightful dialogue between A and B, two fictional disciples of the philosopher Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel (1770-1831). (This dialogue is from H. Gensler’s book Formal Ethics [Routledge 1996], pp. 36-37.)

A: Are you still a follower of Hegel?

B: Of course! I believe everything that he wrote. Since he denied the law of noncontradiction [a.k.a. PNC], I deny this too. On my view, P [where P is any proposition] is entirely compatible with not-P.

A: I'm a fan of Hegel myself. But he didn't deny the law of noncontradiction.

B: You read the wrong commentators!

A: Don't get so upset! You said that he did deny the law, and I said that he didn't. Aren't these compatible on your view? After all, you think that P is compatible with not-P.

B: Yes, I guess they're compatible.

A: No they aren't!

B: Yes they are!

A: Don't get so upset! You said that they are compatible, and I said that they aren't. Aren't these two compatible on your view? Recall that you think that P is compatible with not-P.

B: Yes, I guess they're compatible. I'm getting confused.

A: And you're also not getting confused! Right?

(End of fun but insightful dialogue.)

In other words—and more seriously—if one accepts contradictions, then the following pairs of theses are logically compatible (i.e., can be true together): that Martin Luther King's teachings against racial segregation are true, and that Afrikaner teachings in favour of apartheid are true; that women are morally equal to men (a view of western civilization), and that women are morally inferior to men (a Taliban claim); that murder is wrong (believed by most people), and that murder isn’t wrong (believed by serial killer Ted Bundy).

Surely, though, each of the above pairs of claims is logically inconsistent—logically contradictory—and cannot be true together.

It very much seems, then, that the Principle of Non-Contradiction is true: it’s not the case that something can both be and not be, at the same time and in the same sense.

Logic! It should be taught in every school.

(Hendrik van der Breggen, PhD, teaches critical thinking at Providence College. Hendrik ensures that all his students learn the Principle of Non-Contradiction.)

Introducing Apologia

APOLOGIA
By Hendrik van der Breggen
(The Carillon, August 7, 2008)

Introducing Apologia

It is with pleasure that I introduce The Carillon’s first installment of my column “Apologia” (pronounced ah-puh-LOW-jee-uh). This column will appear monthly [actually, every other week] and will, I hope, live up to its name.

Apologia is a Greek word that means a reasoned defence or justification of an intellectual position or opinion or even conduct. Plato’s book Apology (c. 399 BC) is an extended apologia, consisting of Socrates’ famous speech delivered at his trial in Athens. Socrates defended himself against charges of corrupting Athenian youth, charges that arose from his relentless questioning of Athenian cultural pretenses. (Apologies, then, don’t always mean sorry.)

The intellectual discipline known as Apologetics (often practiced in university philosophy classes but without using the label) also derives from apologia. Typically, to engage in apologetics is to present reasons for one’s worldview or philosophy, whether one is Christian, Muslim, Marxist, a follower of Ayn Rand, or just plain skeptical. Apologetics may also involve presenting reasons for one’s moral views on, say, abortion, euthanasia, stem cell research, same-sex marriage, war, etc.

For truth-seeking individuals, the doing of apologetics—the presenting of an apologia—involves not only setting out reasons for a position, but also carefully assessing those reasons (a.k.a. critical thinking).

Significantly, any form of apologia involves argument. The sense of “argument” of interest here is not that of raised voices and clenched fists, where more heat than light is usually generated. Rather, the sense of “argument” of interest here involves premises and a conclusion. And we ask of such argument: (1) Are the premises true or reasonable to believe to be true? (2) If true, are they relevant to their conclusion? (3) If relevant, do they provide adequate support for the truth of the conclusion?

Most importantly, any argument in an apologia centers on showing respect to those persons with whom one disagrees. (Yes, I am here influenced by 1 Peter 3:15b.)

Because many people today are eager to belittle or hurt those with whom they disagree (for example, by insult or, worse, by wearing explosives), I am convinced—and convicted—that the art of apologia should be revived. Hence, this column.

Caution: I will undoubtedly err in this column. I hope, therefore, that my mistakes will provide opportunities for us to work together to draw nearer to truth.

Plato calls truth our “common master.” I believe he is right.

(Hendrik van der Breggen, PhD, is assistant professor of philosophy at Providence College, located in Otterburne, Manitoba, Canada.)