A few weeks ago, I did something I’ve never done, and it hurled me down a vortex of weirdness from which I wasn’t sure I would escape. I got into an argument in a website’s comments section. I usually avoid that area, but I couldn’t resist when one gentleman wrote about the message of a film...without actually seeing the film. I had seen the film, so I typed a short reply asking for clarification: did he really believe this? He said I didn’t know what I was talking about. I should’ve left it alone, but I pointed him to some writing I had done about the film and suggested he take a look for a different perspective.
He was not happy. We exchanged several somewhat heated posts until he finally said I didn’t actually exist. This has to be some equivalent to Godwin’s Law that deserves a name. If a thread goes on long enough, someone will claim you are not a real person. It was at this point that I said he was right, I don't exist, and I gave up. I signed off, and haven’t checked back with him since. Know when to fold ‘em, I say.
During our back-and-forth, I exasperatedly commented that he wrote like a college freshman. He was very upset at this, but even though I was being a bit snarky, I was actually giving an honest assessment. My actual college freshmen hear these writing warnings from me every day. Here were the problems with this gentleman’s argumentation and how young writers can improve in their essay writing.
Stay on topic: This was intended to be a discussion about a film. However, the gentleman hadn’t even seen the film at the time of his first post, and since he never once referenced the film again throughout our exchanges, even weeks later I still don’t know if he ever actually saw it. Instead, he wanted to talk about context, which is great, but that context must be related to the film. Otherwise, this is a very different conversation to be conducted in a very different venue. This demonstrated to me that he didn’t want to talk about specifics found in the film and how those specifics relate to the real world; he only wanted to offer his predetermined and tangential talking points with complete disregard for how they pertain to the topic at hand. Make sure you are actually arguing about the given topic. Otherwise, you are just spinning your wheels—causing a lot of commotion but going nowhere—and confusing your reader.
Avoid pathos: Not everyone feels to the same degree. One person’s weepiness over free range chickens is another’s eye rolling at the price increase in chicken wings at the grocery store. And even if other parties do feel a similar level of emotion about a topic, that feeling does not necessarily correlate with a particular action. For example, everyone might feel truly saddened that a child did not get breakfast before going to school. However, that sadness does not automatically equate to increased government funding for school breakfast service. A variety of alternative solutions may be more appropriate. Emotions may work for 30-second commercial spots, but relying on emotion for real arguments about complex issues is the weakest form of debate. Stick to logic, and your message will go much further. Speaking of logic...
Watch out for logical fallacies: My counterpart continuously trapped himself in logical missteps, points of argument that sounded smart but didn’t make sense in reality. He offered more straw men than an Indiana cornfield and more red herrings than a sardine shelf at Safeway. He also used the appeal from ignorance fallacy when he said he’d never personally seen what I was describing, so I must have been lying. I’ve never seen a platypus, but that doesn’t mean they don’t exist. He just didn’t have enough experience, so he relied on a fallacy. But his biggest error was his use of false cause. He didn’t quite understand the basic rule of research, that correlation is not causation. He tried to connect things that were happening simultaneously—and yes, even incentivized action—with the root cause of human behavior. We must remember the axiom that only individuals act (see: Ludwig von Mises). And individuals make choices based on what they believe will maximize utility. Even coercion does not inhibit an individual’s power to choose. My friend tried to claim that people aren’t responsible for their actions. (His initial premise was that people who sign a legal contract to borrow money are not required to pay back that money. Yes, he believed that.) While broader institutions may create environments in which fewer or worse choices are available, this does not negate the individual’s unique authority to choose his own action. I know there are too many logical fallacies in your textbook to keep track of, but make sure you are aware of at least some of them so you can avoid them in your writing.
Watch your ethos: I would consider myself something of an expert in a few areas—though there are certainly many who are much more expert than I—and it is those specific fields I explore on this website. But there are infinite areas in which I know I’m certainly not an expert. The task of a good scholar is knowing when you are not an expert. That is when research becomes vital. In my responses to this gentleman, I offered extensive primary sourcing—firsthand expertise from those who deal with the issue at hand every single day—as well as credible secondary sources from authors and publications, from each ideological side, who have earned broad respect. He offered no such sources. Instead, he kept offering facts without any real experience from those most intimately associated with the issue. He ultimately said my sources were fictitious, even though I pointed him directly to them. (He had a real problem focusing on reality, apparently.) He also undermined his own credibility when he let it slip that he had actually done the same thing in his personal life that he was decrying in his assumptions of the still yet unseen film. His hypocrisy exposed a fatal flaw in so many arguers: it’s easy to take a stand with words, but actions reveal one’s true values. He claimed sympathy for the benighted, but he was just as guilty as the supposed villains he had built up in his mind. Remember that your ethos goes to your credibility, why you should be trusted. If you are not a recognized expert whose actions reflect your rhetoric, why should anyone listen to what you say?
Understand the difference between intelligence and wisdom: This gentleman was clearly a bright guy, in the sense that he had a lot of information at hand and he was able to communicate it coherently. But being able to spout facts is not the same as having a true comprehension of the world. There’s a funny quote out there that says, “Knowledge is knowing a tomato is a fruit. Wisdom is not putting it in a fruit salad.” Details and data are useful, but if you don’t know what they mean or how they affect real people in real situations, they can be rather pointless. Assuming that an awareness of simple facts can change the world for the better is egoism at its zenith, and has led to much of the ruination of humans throughout history. Wisdom is an understanding of human nature, how people act and react, based on study, observation, and experience. One must live in the world as it is, not as we wish it to be, in order to gain wisdom. As I’ve stated many times on this site, embrace ignorance. Acknowledge that you don’t know everything. Seek out good sources. Be open to a variety of views. And then aim to understand how the information you gather can reflect the truth of human nature and then be appropriately applied to your own life. Be careful when making arguments in your papers that you are not just demonstrating your intelligence, but try your best to exhibit wisdom as well.
I wish my intellectual sparring partner the best. Though his awareness of human fallibility was lacking and his trust in human perfection was naïve, he seemed like a decent guy and will surely find some measure of success. He reminded me of the endless variety of folks that are out there, influencing others, making decisions. And he has steeled my will to help my writing students become not just smarter, but wiser. After all, they may be arguing with a random stranger on the web someday. And I don’t want their counterparts posting a blog about their writing inadequacies.
He was not happy. We exchanged several somewhat heated posts until he finally said I didn’t actually exist. This has to be some equivalent to Godwin’s Law that deserves a name. If a thread goes on long enough, someone will claim you are not a real person. It was at this point that I said he was right, I don't exist, and I gave up. I signed off, and haven’t checked back with him since. Know when to fold ‘em, I say.
During our back-and-forth, I exasperatedly commented that he wrote like a college freshman. He was very upset at this, but even though I was being a bit snarky, I was actually giving an honest assessment. My actual college freshmen hear these writing warnings from me every day. Here were the problems with this gentleman’s argumentation and how young writers can improve in their essay writing.
Stay on topic: This was intended to be a discussion about a film. However, the gentleman hadn’t even seen the film at the time of his first post, and since he never once referenced the film again throughout our exchanges, even weeks later I still don’t know if he ever actually saw it. Instead, he wanted to talk about context, which is great, but that context must be related to the film. Otherwise, this is a very different conversation to be conducted in a very different venue. This demonstrated to me that he didn’t want to talk about specifics found in the film and how those specifics relate to the real world; he only wanted to offer his predetermined and tangential talking points with complete disregard for how they pertain to the topic at hand. Make sure you are actually arguing about the given topic. Otherwise, you are just spinning your wheels—causing a lot of commotion but going nowhere—and confusing your reader.
Avoid pathos: Not everyone feels to the same degree. One person’s weepiness over free range chickens is another’s eye rolling at the price increase in chicken wings at the grocery store. And even if other parties do feel a similar level of emotion about a topic, that feeling does not necessarily correlate with a particular action. For example, everyone might feel truly saddened that a child did not get breakfast before going to school. However, that sadness does not automatically equate to increased government funding for school breakfast service. A variety of alternative solutions may be more appropriate. Emotions may work for 30-second commercial spots, but relying on emotion for real arguments about complex issues is the weakest form of debate. Stick to logic, and your message will go much further. Speaking of logic...
Watch out for logical fallacies: My counterpart continuously trapped himself in logical missteps, points of argument that sounded smart but didn’t make sense in reality. He offered more straw men than an Indiana cornfield and more red herrings than a sardine shelf at Safeway. He also used the appeal from ignorance fallacy when he said he’d never personally seen what I was describing, so I must have been lying. I’ve never seen a platypus, but that doesn’t mean they don’t exist. He just didn’t have enough experience, so he relied on a fallacy. But his biggest error was his use of false cause. He didn’t quite understand the basic rule of research, that correlation is not causation. He tried to connect things that were happening simultaneously—and yes, even incentivized action—with the root cause of human behavior. We must remember the axiom that only individuals act (see: Ludwig von Mises). And individuals make choices based on what they believe will maximize utility. Even coercion does not inhibit an individual’s power to choose. My friend tried to claim that people aren’t responsible for their actions. (His initial premise was that people who sign a legal contract to borrow money are not required to pay back that money. Yes, he believed that.) While broader institutions may create environments in which fewer or worse choices are available, this does not negate the individual’s unique authority to choose his own action. I know there are too many logical fallacies in your textbook to keep track of, but make sure you are aware of at least some of them so you can avoid them in your writing.
Watch your ethos: I would consider myself something of an expert in a few areas—though there are certainly many who are much more expert than I—and it is those specific fields I explore on this website. But there are infinite areas in which I know I’m certainly not an expert. The task of a good scholar is knowing when you are not an expert. That is when research becomes vital. In my responses to this gentleman, I offered extensive primary sourcing—firsthand expertise from those who deal with the issue at hand every single day—as well as credible secondary sources from authors and publications, from each ideological side, who have earned broad respect. He offered no such sources. Instead, he kept offering facts without any real experience from those most intimately associated with the issue. He ultimately said my sources were fictitious, even though I pointed him directly to them. (He had a real problem focusing on reality, apparently.) He also undermined his own credibility when he let it slip that he had actually done the same thing in his personal life that he was decrying in his assumptions of the still yet unseen film. His hypocrisy exposed a fatal flaw in so many arguers: it’s easy to take a stand with words, but actions reveal one’s true values. He claimed sympathy for the benighted, but he was just as guilty as the supposed villains he had built up in his mind. Remember that your ethos goes to your credibility, why you should be trusted. If you are not a recognized expert whose actions reflect your rhetoric, why should anyone listen to what you say?
Understand the difference between intelligence and wisdom: This gentleman was clearly a bright guy, in the sense that he had a lot of information at hand and he was able to communicate it coherently. But being able to spout facts is not the same as having a true comprehension of the world. There’s a funny quote out there that says, “Knowledge is knowing a tomato is a fruit. Wisdom is not putting it in a fruit salad.” Details and data are useful, but if you don’t know what they mean or how they affect real people in real situations, they can be rather pointless. Assuming that an awareness of simple facts can change the world for the better is egoism at its zenith, and has led to much of the ruination of humans throughout history. Wisdom is an understanding of human nature, how people act and react, based on study, observation, and experience. One must live in the world as it is, not as we wish it to be, in order to gain wisdom. As I’ve stated many times on this site, embrace ignorance. Acknowledge that you don’t know everything. Seek out good sources. Be open to a variety of views. And then aim to understand how the information you gather can reflect the truth of human nature and then be appropriately applied to your own life. Be careful when making arguments in your papers that you are not just demonstrating your intelligence, but try your best to exhibit wisdom as well.
I wish my intellectual sparring partner the best. Though his awareness of human fallibility was lacking and his trust in human perfection was naïve, he seemed like a decent guy and will surely find some measure of success. He reminded me of the endless variety of folks that are out there, influencing others, making decisions. And he has steeled my will to help my writing students become not just smarter, but wiser. After all, they may be arguing with a random stranger on the web someday. And I don’t want their counterparts posting a blog about their writing inadequacies.