The main topic of this book is the proper evaluation of evidence. This means the proper evaluation of arguments.
An
argument, again, is a set of sentences (or, as weâll sometimes call them: claims, statements, or propositions) consisting of one or more
premises and a
conclusion. The
premises are statements that are offered as
evidence for the conclusion, and the
conclusion is the statement whose truth the argument is intended to establish. Logicians typically distinguish between
deductive arguments and inductive arguments. Roughly speaking, an argument is
deductive if the truth of premises would guarantee the truth of the conclusion; an argument is
inductive if the truth of premises would render the truth of the conclusion probable, without guaranteeing it. Some inductive arguments are very powerful, and the probability they confer is extremely high. Thereâs nothing
wrong with an inductive argument just because it doesnât absolutely guarantee its conclusion. Nevertheless, inductive arguments are messier and more complicated than deductive arguments. Thus, in this chapter and
Chapters 2 and
3, we will focus on the stronger and simpler kind of argument, the
deductive argument. Simple doesnât mean easy, and the next two chapters will be a bit abstract, but please bear with us. The skills and concepts mastered here will be important for nearly all other reasoning.
Our provisional understanding of deduction is rough in two ways. First, weâll want to say quite a lot more about whatâs meant by âguarantee.â Second, if we were to define deductive and inductive arguments as those that guarantee or make probable their conclusions, it would follow that there couldnât be
bad arguments of either type, arguments that abjectly fail to provide the kind of support theyâre intended to. Consequently, weâll officially define deduction and induction in terms of the
aims of the argument, that is, in terms of the
intentions of the person offering the argument. Thus, we will define a
deductive argument as one that
aims at
validity, i.e., one that purports to be valid. âValidity,â of course, is a technical term that replaces the more intuitive but less precise âguarantee.â Just what it means is the topic of this chapter. (Weâll say more about aims and intentions a bit in this chapter, but more so in
Chapter 3.)
1. DISTINGUISHING THE GOOD FROM THE BAD
The goal here is to distinguish good arguments, ones whose premises provide a genuine reason to believe the conclusion, from bad ones. The good news: You already know a lot about how to do this. From an early age, we reliably use this ability on a daily basis. So, the task of this book is not to introduce some alien, intellectual discipline, but to develop and refine a skill you already possess. To see that we have this skill, take the following pair of examples:
- (P1) All members of species X have lungs.
- (P2) y is a member of species X.
- (C) Therefore, y has lungs.
- (P1) All members of species X have lungs.
- (P2) y has lungs.
- (C) Therefore, y is a member of species X.
The first is a good argument and the second is a bad one, and we confidently make that judgment. So, in some sense, we already know the difference.
The question now is: can we say what the difference is? What is it about the good argument that makes it good and the bad one that makes it bad? What is the relevant contrast between them, the difference that makes a difference?
What counts as a successful answer here? First, we want to know what makes arguments good in general, not just the first argument in particular. It is relevant and true to say, âthe first argument is good, because ây has lungsâ follows from y being a type X and all Xs having lungs,â but that answer is too specific. It does not tell us how to evaluate arguments about economics or physics or the likelihood of rain. Thereâs another problem with that answer. To say that the conclusion follows from the premises is correct, but unhelpful. If we canât say what that means in simpler terms, saying âit followsâ is no more illuminating than saying the argument is good. We havenât explained what it is for the argument to be good. The same goes for saying that the conclusion is a consequence of the premises, or that the premises imply the conclusion, or, if youâve already been exposed to some logic, that the argument is valid. All true, but they wonât explain the idea to someone who genuinely lacks the ability to discriminate the good from the bad, or help us better understand the nature of good argumentation so we can improve our own ability.
We can sneak up on the problem by focusing on the bad argument. It has a hole in it: it could be that all Xs have lungs, but there are other species that also have lungs, and so, y could be one of those. If Xs are dogs, and cats also have lungs, then maybe y is a cat. So, the conclusion would be false.
As it happens, lots of species have lungs. But even if there werenât any other species with lungs, the premises leave open the possibility that such species exist and that is enough for the argument to have a hole in it. And this hole is what makes it a bad argument. The first argument is good because it has no hole; itâs airtight: if all type Xs have lungs, and y is an X, the conclusion that y has lungs is inescapable.
Thereâs something to this, but unfortunately, talk of holes is just a metaphor here, and so, itâs too wooly to provide precise guidance. Thereâs not literally a hole in the argument, as when we say thereâs a hole in the wall or in my sweater. For someone who doesnât already have the skill of evaluating arguments, telling them to look for holes is vague, hand-waving advice.
But it does capture something important. So, we need to figure out the precise idea to which the metaphor points. Hereâs a way of putting it: what is special about the first argument is that the truth of the premises would absolutely guarantee the truth of the conclusion; if the premises were true, the conclusion would have to be true. Or, to put it most precisely: it is impossible for both the premises to be true and the conclusion to be false together. This statement is non-metaphorical, and it explains the goodness of the argument in simple terms that do not presuppose specialized logical knowledge: impossible, true, and false. We call arguments like this âvalid.â
An argument is valid if and only if it is impossible for the premises to be true and the conclusion to be false together.
The other ones, the ones that lack this special property, we call âinvalid.â
This definition fits with our two examples. What makes the first argument good is that it is absolutely impossible for it to be false that y has lungs, given that it is true that y is an X and all Xs have lungs. What makes the second example bad is that it clearly is possible for all Xs to have lungs, and for y to have lungs, and yet for y not to be an X (i.e., for it to be false that y is an X). And if we fail to recognize the disconnect between the second argumentâs premises and its conclusion, we are clearly allowing ourselves to be misled, to be persuaded by premises that just donât provide a good reason to believe the conclusion. On the other hand, if we allow ourselves to believe the conclusion of the first argument, given its premises, we make no such error.
More generally, in life we typically want to believe truths and only truths. To have any success at that goal, we need to have some kind of policy for deciding what to believe. Hereâs one policy: every time you are confronted with a proposition, flip a coin. If the coin comes up heads, undertake to believe the proposition; if it comes up tails, donât. This is an obviously bad policy. If you followed it, any truths you came to believe would be a matter of sheer luck, and if you acted on the beliefs you acquired, you probably wouldnât do very well. âEating the rat poison will be a nutritious and delicious experienceâ: Letâs flip a coin.
We need a policy that tracks the truth: picks out truths and avoids falsehoods. Picking out
valid arguments and rejecting invalid ones is part of such a policy, a crucial component of it. However, just paying attention to validity is not enough. Validity on its own provides
no reason to believe the conclusion is true. And this is made explicit in our definition: all it says is that a valid argument canât have
true premises and a false conclusion. It guarantees
conditional support between the premises and the conclusion:
If the premises are true,
then the conclusion must be too.
If not, all bets are off. Valid arguments with false conclusions are not hard to find. For instance:
- (P1) All human beings have tentacles.
- (P2) All creatures with tentacles live in the sea.
- (C) So, all human beings live in the sea.
Itâs valid, but it provides no reason to believe the conclusion. Why? Because one of the premises is obviously false, and valid reasoning from a false premise provides no reason whatsoever to believe that we have a true conclusion.
Another way of putting this is to say that valid arguments are
truth-preserving: all true premises guarantee a true conclusion: Truth in; truth out. Falsehood in; who knows? (Unless youâre lucky, a false conclusion.) Certainly, the argument gives you no reason to believe it true. So, our policy for truth-tracking should be this: believe only the conclusions
of arguments that are valid
and that have all true premises. These arguments are important enough that we need a name for them. Weâll say an argument is
sound if and only if it is valid and has all true premises. A
sound argument must have a true conclusion:
Truth-preservation +
all true premises guarantees a true conclusion.
A word of caution: these two features of an argument (i) its validity, and (ii) the actual truth values of its premises, have nothing to do with each other. It is worth emphasizing this point, as people often mistakenly think that the actual truth values of the premises and conclusionâwhether the premises and conclusion happen to be true or falseâcan tell us whether the argument is valid or not. But this is not so. For example:
- (P1) Beethovenâs music is excellent.
- (P2) If someoneâs music is still well-known centuries after their death, their music must be excellent.
- (C) So, Beethovenâs music is still well-known centuries after his death.
Itâs perfectly possible that someone might have written excellent music and also that music only survives the test to time if it is truly excellent, and yet some great composer could be unlucky enough for their work to be lost or destroyed before achieving any popularity, and so never be well-known. Thatâs not how it was for Beethoven, but it could have happened. So, the argument is invalid, and yet the premises and conclusion are all plausibly true. Validity and true premises guarantee a true conclusion, but it doesnât work the other way around: true premises and a true conclusion guarantee nothing about the quality of reasoning.
Just to hammer home the point, letâs return to our first pair of arguments:
- (P1) All members of species X have lungs.
- (P2) y is a member of species X.
- (C) Therefore, y has lungs.