Critical Thinking About Questions
Why-Questions
and Range of Answers: Contrast Classes
How-Questions:
Manner, Method and Means
Surveys
and Ambiguous Questions
Today we see a distinct separation between the questions of Modern
Science and Modern Philosophy. Both inquiries
use similar rational methods, but they are different in terms of the sorts of
questions each seeks to answer.
·
Scientific questions ≠ Philosophical
questions
What is the nature of this difference? Science seeks to answer questions that are empirical
(observational) in nature. If
one can answer a question by doing an empirical investigation, then it is not a
philosophical question; it is a scientific question. (I am conceiving of science
very broadly so as to include history and the social
sciences.)
Empirical: Observational. Refers to what can be known through sensory
experience.
But what about questions which cannot be answered by empirical
investigation, questions that no amount of science could hope to answer? Are all non-empirical questions necessarily
“Philosophical?”
No.
Some non-empirical questions are simply nonsense questions.
Examples:
·
"How high is 'up'?"
·
"What is the color of love?"
·
"What is east of the moon?
Note, that these are indeed properly formed questions in the English
language. They commit no grammatical/syntactical
mistakes in terms of being properly
formed interrogative sentences. And note
further that they are non-empirical questions; no amount of empirical
investigation could hope to answer them.
However…
The only person who would seriously ask such a question and hope
for an answer is someone who literally doesn’t know what he or she is talking
about. (My four-year-old grandnephew
perhaps.) However, in these cases, at
least, it is easy to see that they are nonsense questions because any and all answers are equally silly.
EX:
·
Q: “What is the color of love?”
·
A:
“Mauve.”
All answers would be equally ridiculous.
Nonsense
Questions and Category Mistakes
These non-empirical questions can be labeled “category
mistakes.” One is asking to know the
height of something that does not belong to the category of “Things with a
Height” or to know the color of something which does not belong to the category
of “Colored Things.” The questions
themselves presume category membership that does not in fact obtain.
Some philosophers would claim that many/most/all questions which
cannot be answered by science are literally non-sense.
Example:
·
What is the meaning of life?
Some have argued that far from being a deep and important
philosophical question, this is in fact a nonsense question. It too is a “category mistake.” “Life,” they argue, does not belong to the category
of “things with a meaning.” Words belong
to that category; signs do, symbols do. But not life.
The view that most philosophy questions (or non-empirical
questions in general) are simply nonsense questions and involve category
mistakes gained wide acceptance, even among philosophers, in the first part of
the 20th century and some philosophers hold this view today. The proper response to such questions is not to
try to answer them, but rather, to explain why the question is simply nonsense
and one should stop asking it.
(I am not one of these philosophers, for the record.)
However, this is NOT the traditional view within the discipline of
philosophy. Traditionally, philosophy
seeks to answer non-empirical questions which are taken to be both meaningful
and important and which can and do admit of answers, some of which are better,
more reasonable, than others.
Example: “Is there a God?”
Note that, unlike obviously non-sense questions for which all
answers are equally ridiculous, the problem here seems to be there are TWO
possible, perfectly meaningful answers: “Yes” and “No.” What remains to be seen is which, if either,
of the perfectly sensible possible answers is true (or can garner greater
rational support).
A rhetorical question is a device used to persuade or subtly
influence the audience. It's a question asked not for the answer, but for the rhetorical
effect. Often a rhetorical question is used to emphasize a point or just to get
the audience thinking.
“Are you stupid?”
“It’s too hot today, isn’t it?“
“Way pay more?”
Notice, while these are technically question,
according to the grammar, they are not genuine questions in the sense that no an answer is expected.
These rhetorical questions are often asked to emphasize a point:
·
Is the Pope Catholic?
·
Is rain wet?
·
You didn't think I would say yes to that, did
you?
·
Do you want to be a failure for the rest of
your life?
·
Does a bear poop in the woods?
·
Can fish swim?
·
Can birds fly?
·
Do dogs bark?
Writers employ rhetorical questions for rhetorical effects, and we
cannot easily quantify the impact rendered by a rhetorical question. These are often employed in poetry and poetic
prose for literary affects.
JULIET:
” ’Tis but thy name that is my enemy.
Thou art thyself, though not a
Montague.
What’s Montague? It is nor hand, nor
foot,
Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part
Belonging to a man. O, be some other
name!
What’s in a name? That
which we call a rose
By any other name would smell as
sweet.”
“If Winter comes, can Spring be far
behind?”
Percy Bysshe Shelley
Good rhetorical questions can make hearers/ readers realize
something that they weren't previously aware of. They can make them think and perhaps gain some
insight. Note Juliet’s question “What’s
in a name?” is an intriguing one, enough to prod the hearer in to considering
the matter further. But this only works
if the rhetorical question is sharp and well crafted.
Rhetorical
Questions as Disguised Claims
However, what interests us the most here it when rhetorical
questions are used to disguise assertions.
Recall the old debater’s motto:
“He who asserts must prove.” The
idea is that, generally, the burden of proof remains with the affirmative
team. If they are asserting “P” they are
expected to prove “P.” And this is true
in normal conversations/ exchanges as well as debates where one individual is
trying to persuade another. The person
asserting is expected to support the assertion.
But one can sometimes use a rhetorical question as a way of disguising
a claim in such a way that it does not immediately seem to need support
or evidence. In fact, rhetorical
questions can be crafted in such a way to make the hearers believe they came to a conclusion themselves. Therefore, they can be a powerful
rhetorical device used to persuade
someone without providing reason to be persuaded.
For instance, people don't like to be told what to do.
Let’s say you want Randy to stop swearing in front of the
children.
So you tell him to stop:
You: "Randy please stop swearing
in front of the children."
Randy: "It's a free fuckin'
country,"
However, say instead you ask him the rhetorical question:
You: "Randy do you think swearing
in front of the children is the best thing to be doing?"
So, rather than simply asserting one’s
point, one “leads” the hearer to it. It feels more like a conversation and less
like a lecture. Indeed, one may even
convince the hearers that they have come to this conclusion on
their own.
Now had you merely boldly declared, “Swearing
in front of the children is not the best thing to be doing.” you may not be nearly as convincing. In fact, you may invite a challenge. “How do you know?” Randy might respond. In both cases you really are making a
claim. But when disguised as a rhetorical questions, you may be able to slip the claim by
without being subject to critical review.
Consider:
·
Why would anyone buy anything else?
·
Have you ever met a more disgusting man?
·
Who in their right mind could support that crazy
proposal?
·
Does anyone really believe that America isn’t
a racist country?
·
What could be better evidence for the failure
of socialist models of economic distribution than Venezuela?
Agreement to the presumed “answer” to
the rhetorical question is assented to by the hearer often because it is presented
as required by “Common Sense.” It is
thought that a vast consensus exists as to what the “right” answer is within
the “Universal Audience.” (This is
related to Perelman & Olbrecht-Tyteca’s
“mind-adherence” concept.) But of course,
this may not be true. There may in fact
be no such broad consensus and the assertion, now disguised as a question, may
well be controversial and in need of defense.
This is why the critical thinker must be on guard when confronted with a
rhetorical question.
A complex question is a fallacy in
which the answer to a given question presupposes
a prior answer to a prior question. Also known as a loaded question, a trick question,
a leading question,
the fallacy of the false question, and the fallacy of many questions.
The classic example of a complex question would be "Have you
stopped beating your wife?". Ralph
Keyes has traced this example back to a 1914 book of legal humor. Since
then, he says, it "has . . . become the standard allusion to any question
that can't be answered without self-incrimination" (I Love It When You Talk Retro, 2009).
Examples
and Observations
"'Let's talk about Glaucon. Where did you get the
poison you used on him?'
(Bruce Macbain, The Bull Slayer:
A Plinius Secundus Mystery. Poisoned Pen Press,
2013)
"He was woken two hours later and presently a doctor examined
him.
"'What drugs were you on?' he asked.
"Wilt stared at him blankly. 'I've never taken any drugs in my life,' he
muttered."
(Tom Sharpe, Wilt in Nowhere. Hutchinson, 2004)
The Unjustified Presumption
"Plurium interrogationum, which
translates as 'of many questions,' is otherwise known as the fallacy of the complex question. When several questions
are combined into one, in such a way that a yes-or-no answer is required and
the person they are asked of has no chance to give separate replies to each,
the fallacy of the complex question is committed.
·
Have you stopped beating your wife?
·
Did John ever give up his bad habits?
·
Did the pollution you caused increase or
decrease your profits?
·
Did your misleading claims result in you
getting promoted?
·
Is your stupidity inborn?
·
Are you still a heavy drinker?
·
Can our failed foreign policy be saved?
·
How long did you think you could deceive us?
All of them contain an assumption that the concealed question has
already been answered affirmatively. It is this unjustified presumption which
constitutes the fallacy. In each of
these questions there lies an assumed answer to a previous (unasked) question. Consider the question “Did John ever give up
his bad habits?” The unasked question
whose answer is assumed is “Did John have any bad habits?”. We need to withhold any answer to the complex question
until this prior question has been resolved. In some instances of this fallacy,
considerable struggle may be necessary in order to liberate ourselves from the
misleading influence of a complex question.
"The complex question has to be
broken into simpler ones; and often the denial of the fact presumed invalidates
the larger question altogether."
(Madsen Pirie, How to
Win Every Argument: The Use and Abuse of Logic, 2nd ed. Bloomsbury,
2015)
The fallacy of complex question is
the interrogative form
of the fallacy of begging the question. Like the
latter, it begs the question by assuming the conclusion at
issue.
Although not an argument as
such, a complex question involves an implicit argument. This argument is usually intended to trap the
respondent into acknowledging something that he or she might otherwise not want
to acknowledge.
The serious consequences of complex questions can be appreciated
by considering these trick questions, which would be out of order in a court of
law:
·
What did you use to wipe your fingerprints
from the gun?
·
How long had you contemplated this robbery
before you carried it out?
·
Who helped you forge the documents?
Why-Questions
and Range of Answers: Contrast Classes
Two types of contrast in explananda (a phenomenon that is
to be explained)
It is now commonly accepted that most or all explanations involve answering
a question which admits of a class of possible contrasts answers. (See, for example, Van Fraassen
1980 [28]; Hitchcock 1996 [46], 1999 [47]; Woodward 2003 [142]; Lipton 2004
[72]). These contrasts appear in the form of a ‘rather than’ clause in the
explanatory request, sometimes explicitly, but often implicitly.
Thus, Van Fraassen 1980 ([28], p. 127)
gives us the famous example:
·
Why did Adam eat the apple?
He then notes that this question/ explanatory request remains ambiguous
until we make explicit the intended contrast class. For instance, the
questioner might have meant any of the following:
·
Why did Adam eat the apple, despite
being explicitly told not to do so by God?
·
Why did Adam eat the apple, rather than someone else? (e.g.
Sam or Mary or Satan)
·
Why did Adam eat the apple, rather
than doing something else with it? (e.g. bake it into a pie)
·
Why did Adam eat the apple, rather than any of
the other fruits? (e.g. the papaya)
What counts as a satisfactory answer to the initial question depends
on which of the more explicit questions is meant. “Because Adam was
hungry” may be a good answer to the third, but not to the others. This feature of “Why” questions is key to
understanding explanation and more specifically what sort of explanation is
being sought or would be found satisfactory.
(Incidentally, this is the mechanism at work in jokes like, “Why did the
chicken cross the road?” or “Why do firemen wear red suspenders?”
Technically, we can say (with van Fraassen)
that an explanandum consists of a
fact embedded in a contrast class, that is, contrasting what actually happened to what could have happened, a set of
alternative possibilities that did not come true. We call these alternative possibilities the
“foils” of the fact. Very roughly,
giving an explanation is showing what it was that picked
out the actual fact from among all the alternative possibilities
in the contrast class. It may be thought
that not all explananda have a
contrastive form however.
Unambiguous contrast questions have explicit contrast classes of
alternatives to the fact being explained, though this is often supplied by the
context within which the question is being asked. An ambiguous contrast question provides no
such contrast class. It is often it is
easier to answer an unambiguous contrast question than to explain an ambiguous
one. For instance:
Q: “Why did Adam eat the apple, rather
than any of the other fruits?”
A: Because on this occasion, Eve
offered him the apple rather than any other fruit (e.g. a papaya).
So, if one knows that Joe has a preference for Marvel Films over
Period Pieces, that fact can explain “Why did Joe rented “Thor” rather than “Dangerous
Liaisons?” But that fact alone does not
explain why he rented Thor un-contrasted with alternatives, that is, “Why did
Joe rent any movie at all?”
But this is not always the case. Sometimes it can be the other way around. We can explain why Jones contracted the flu
without explaining or being able to explain why Jones contracted the flu rather
than Smith.
When asking the questions “What explains the fatal car accident
last night?” Or, “Why did the fatal
accident occur last night?” we see that these are ambiguous questions. Until I establish what the contrast(s) is
(are), the fact and attending foils, I do not know what is being asked. A car crash, for instance, always involves
the convergence of numerous factors. For
example, it may have involved faulty brakes, insufficient roadway grading,
inadequate signage, and alcohol consumption, weather factors, the laws of
gravity and momentum. Any and all of
these factors may have contributed to the crash, and to varying degrees.
The extent to which any one of these can be call “the” cause of
the accident will require different sort of causal explanations and causal
chain and conceptual resources. (e.g. breaks and the chain of physical factors,
alcohol and biological and perceptual factors, etc.) One way of giving content to the idea that
there are different kinds of causes and causal relations is to view causal
relations as explanatory ones, and to view explanations as answers to certain
kinds of questions.
Four Causes: Answers to the questions “Why?”
The ancient Greek philosopher Aristotle (384-322 bce) delineates four “causes” or four explanations to answer
the question "why?": material, formal, efficient, and final. Aristotle wrote that "we do not have
knowledge of a thing until we have grasped its why, that is to say, its
cause."[1]
Aitia (Greek: αἰτία),
the word that Aristotle used to refer to the causal explanation, is translated
as "cause," but he is using it more broadly than we normally use the
English word “cause.” Our contemporary
understanding of “cause” most nearly approximates
Aristotle’s notion of “efficient cause.”
Aristotle's αἰτία that is nearest to current
ordinary language notion of "explanation."
In Physics II.3 and Metaphysics V.2, Aristotle maintains
that there are four kinds of answers to "why" questions:
Consider a Wooden Mantel Clock
1.
Why does it float when thrown into a pond?
2.
Why does it have the numerals 1-12 distributed
in a radial symmetric pattern on its dial?
3.
Why does it exist here in my house on this
shelf?
4.
Why does it chime each hour on the hour?
1.
Material Cause: Because it is made of wood.
2.
Formal Cause: Because it is an analog clock (instance
of a species)
3.
Efficient Cause: Because it was manufactured
in New York, purchased by me in a store, carried home by me and placed on the shelf.
4.
Final Cause: Because it is supposed to tell
time.
Material Cause (of an aspect, change or movement): this is what
explains an aspect of the change or movement that is determined by the material
that composes the moving or changing things.
Formal Cause (of an aspect, change or movement): this is what explains an aspect, change or
movement that is determined by the thing’s inherent nature.
Efficient Cause (of an aspect, change or movement): this is what
explains an aspect, change or movement, of a think by reference to some
external agency.
Final Cause (of an aspect, change or movement): that is what
explains by reference to the end or purpose of the thing.
Definition of "cause"
The Greek word had initially been used in a "legal"
context referring to what or who is "responsible." This was mostly, but not always, in a bad
sense of "guilt" or "blame." Alternatively, it could mean "to the
credit of" someone or something. The
appropriation of this word by Aristotle and other philosophers reflects how the
Greek experience of legal practice influenced the concern in Greek thought to
determine what is responsible.
How-Questions: Manner, Method and
Means
Aristotle defended an account of causation and explanation along
these lines. A cause (aitia), he
said, was an answer to the question dia ti (διατί):
‘Why?’ or ‘On account of what?’ (Physics 194b16-20). Bas van Fraassen makes
a similar claim: ‘An explanation’, he says, ‘is an answer to
a why-question’ (1980: 134).
Others have suggested that it is not just with
regard to why-questions, but also how-questions since many how-questions
are requests for explanation as well (Jaworski 2009[2]). A similar point comes out with
how-questions. Examining the presupposed
logic of why- and how-questions can expose what the range of explanatory factors
and relations are being sought. Sometimes
these presuppositions exclude equally good and potentially preferable
explanatory accounts.
EX: ‘How did Judith kill Holofernes?’ (Biblical Story)
This too is an ambiguous question.
Is it a question about manner, method of means? Manners, methods, and means are among the
things we ask about with how-questions.
Answer A: ‘With a mixture of
revulsion and determination.’
Answer B: ‘With a mixture of bile
and snake venom.’
Answer C: ‘With a mixture of
seduction and cunning.’
The first answer supplies the manner; the second
supplies the method, and the third supplies the means. Manner and Method are two words that are
often confused due to their similarity in meanings. As a matter of fact, they are two different
words with different meanings.
Manner is a stylized way a thing is done or the way
a thing happens as in the sentence ‘He always sings in this manner.’ It is adverbial and therefore incidental to
the actual task performed. The very same
task (method) could have conducted in a different manner. We might say he sang “Proud Mary” bel
canto, but he could have sung the same song (i.e. performed the same task) in
a modern rock style, that is, in a different manner. Manner can also refer to
social behavior as in the sentence ‘It is bad manners to speak loudly.’ Sometimes the word ‘manner’ suggests a kind of
polite or well-bred behavior such as in ‘That fellow has no manners’.
In this sentence you can find that the
word ‘manners’ refer to the polite behavior which a man is expected to conduct
himself, irrespective of the tasks he is performing.
The word ‘method’ is used in the sense of a specific procedure followed
to accomplish the task, a technical execution by which a task is achieved. The word ‘method’ can have the nearest
equivalent in the word ‘procedure’. On
the other hand, the word ‘manner’ can have the nearest equivalent in the word
‘way’.
Means is very similar to method, but is often suggested setting the table for the method.
Q: How did he win the election?
A: By getting more votes than his opponent (method).
Q: Yes of course, but HOW did he do that?
Q: By ingratiating himself to his constituents (means).
Thus How-questions are ambiguous and can be answered in very
different ways.
Q: How to porcupines make love?
A: Very carefully
Q: How did our football team win the game?
A: By scoring more points than the other team.
Q: How was your dinner?
A: Delivered by Uber Eats.
Surveys and Ambiguous Questions
Surveys can help us learn how a group of people feels about
something, be it customer or employee satisfaction, future needs, attitudes
towards an organization, views of some policies, or a whole host of other
things. To truly learn the data
collected must be valid, that is, they must measure what you’re intending to
measure. But there are numerous ways we can corrupt our survey process. Perhaps the single biggest mistake is
ambiguous wording in survey questions.
That happens when the meaning of key words or phrases is unclear. People could have different interpretations
of the question. If the respondents
understand the question differently, they are answering different questions, despite the fact that the question
are expressed in the same language. When
this happens, we cannot interpret the resulting data in a reliable way.
Consider a survey question asked after the 2016 presidential
election regarding Russian meddling.
“Do you think Russia interfered in the 2016 election?”
The question might be posed as a binary Yes/No question or on an
Agreement-interval rating scale.
It may, at first, appear straightforward, right?
But look at the ambiguity in the question phrasing. The question contains four words that form
how you interpret what the question is asking.
1.
Think.
Various respondents might require
different levels of proof to assert that they “think” or “believe” something in reality happened.
Imagine how differently some would respond if the question asked: “Are you
certain…”
2.
Russia.
What does “Russia” mean in this
context? The Russian people? Russian oligarchs? The Russian
government? Many
might would interpret this as Vladimir Putin or his
operatives directly, but perhaps opters would not.
3.
Interfered.
This word is open to interpretation
and needs to be viewed in the context of the following prepositional phrase “in
the 2016 election”. How you interpret
“election” affects how you interpret “interfered.” (i.e. influence people’s views/ change voting
results?)
4.
Election.
Here we have real ambiguity. For some “election” means the actual casting
or tallying is votes and voting process. Others may view “election” as
including the months-long campaign.
Those are quite different.
So, if the survey results tell is that “55%” of the respondents
“think” that “Russia” “interfered” in the 2016 “election” what does that really
tell is?
Nothing particularly worthwhile.