Writing Rhetorically

The story goes like this: fugitive peasants being chased by authorities would drag a bunch of fish across their trail as they escaped, in an effort to divert the attention of the tracking dogs. Another story tells of hunters tying fish to a string and dragging them along a trail to train their dogs.

Either way, these stories tell the origin of the term “Red Herring.” Today, when someone accuses the other of using a Red Herring, he does not refer to someone who loves to drag fish around. He refers to a logical fallacy, the fallacy of distraction.

Red Herrings appear in many forms. They can be ad hominem fallacies, taking on a rich, lovely double-whammy and earning extra bonus points, if you’re counting fallacies in an argument. One could, in a debate, call his opponent a slimy dog, thus earning the simple ad hominem–distracting from the main point by attacking your opponent. Or, to add depth to one’s fallacy, one could not only slander, he could accuse his opponent of wrongdoing, causing him to stop in his tracks and defend himself, thus completely derailing the entire debate.

In the political world this commonly happens before elections. Sometimes, in the month before a major election, the “October Surprise,” reveals some huge dirt on an opponent. Then said opponent must spend time and resources defending himself instead of concentrating on bringing home the votes. The one dishing the dirt laughs all the way to the voting booth. He has taken attention off the vital points of the campaign, thus perhaps winning the election, or at least doing some major damage to his opponent’s reputation.

Sometimes listening to political commentators frustrates me. I want to hear the whole argument, but instead I find the opponents shouting each other down or diverting from the main point into little side issues that don’t matter. “How did you get yourself dragged down that trail? Get back to the topic!” I find myself shouting to the TV. And yet it happens again and again.

Debaters can (and should) control the argument better,  by saying, “Now, you’re trying to pull me away from the main point here. Let’s go back and answer the real topic at hand.”  Or a candidate could say “I reject the premise. Let’s get back to the question.” Who gets the victory when someone is dragged away from the main point? That’s right–your opponent.

In class, I call this a “bunny trail.” Students love to try them out. Discussion goes in one direction; a student takes it down some irrelevant line of discussion. If the teacher does not maintain control of the discussion, guess who does? Now, sometimes a bunny trail can be a great place for a while. Good side discussions can become a learning experience themselves. I just want to have some measure of control of where we go down that little trail, and haul it up short if we go so far we can’t see the main road.

So Fallacies of Distraction can take several forms. If you were in a debate, could you recognize them, divert them, and return to the point at hand? It’s harder than you think, when the heat of debate is on.

For more information about fallacies and logic, check out my Classical Rhetoric text book, Thoughts Clothed in Words, at amazon.com.

Recently a commentator labelled someone’s ad baculum fallacy as “soft tyranny.” This intrigued me so much, I decided to look a little deeper. Ad baculum is another fallacy of distraction, like ad hominem. If you can pull your opponent off topic–get him to forget the subject you were debating–you win. Ad hominem attacks the opponent with a slur (“Oh yeah? Well, you’re stupid!”). Ad baculum slips in a veiled threat.

Ad baculum can be as sleazy as an outright threat: “Someone might get hurt if he insists on sneaking around in my back yard.” It can be backhanded, almost as an afterthought. “Oh, he won’t try anything. I’m sure he cares about his family.”

Adolf Hitler was the master of fallacy. In 1938, while contending to the world that Germany was no warlike nation, Hitler inserted a pretty great ad baculum fallacy into a speech:

“If ever international agitation or poisoning of opinion should attempt to rupture the peace of the Reich, then steel and iron would take the German people and German homesteads under their protection. The world would then see, as quick as lightning, to what extent this Reich, people, party, and these armed forces are fanatically inspired with one spirit, one will.” (February 20, 1938)

Not really a threat…just a hint of one. Enough to make someone back off just a little.

In politics, ad baculum fallacies abound on all sides. During one campaign, I believe it was Clinton vs Dole, the Democrats insisted that if the Republicans won, old people would be thrown out into the streets (Medicare would be destroyed), children would starve (the public school lunch program would end), and the waters of this country would be poisoned (the EPA would lose its funding). Yes, folks, the monsters want your vote. Don’t give it to them!

And in 2010, then-Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi spoke out about a proposed mosque that some Muslims wanted to build in the shadow of Ground Zero in New York City. She said, “I join those who have called for looking into how is this opposition to the mosque being funded?  How is this being ginned up?” If it wasn’t intentionally done, it at least had the (perhaps-unintended?) effect of stifling dissent. (“Wow,” one might think, “if I speak out on this issue, someone will be nosing around in my business. I don’t want to attract attention to myself like that. I’d better be quiet.”) Needless to say, this is a violation of the First Amendment, but since it’s a veiled threat, you can’t really call it a direct threat, right? Clever!

Ad baculum, then, has consequences: to shut up one’s opponent because he fears the threat, and to move the discussion from the topic at hand onto a side note or distraction. Striking fear in the heart of your opponent definitely fits the bill of what one commentator calls “Soft Tyranny.” The threat of harm will stifle a good, hearty debate. It’s a fallacy, it’s used by folks on all sides of the political spectrum, and it’s incredibly powerful.

For more discussions on logical fallacies, see my Classical Rhetoric text, Thoughts Clothed in Words, available on Amazon.

I remember fighting with my sister, and when things started going badly, I resorted to the ever-useful “Oh yeah–well, you’re stupid!” There–that’ll show HER.

My own children began using that brilliant slur, and many others just like it, when they ventured into sibling arguments. A couple of them tried telling me they didn’t do well in class because the teacher was stupid and ridiculous. They tried that until we home schooled and I worked alongside the teachers in our little home school program. (A smart kid won’t try that too often when the mom is one of the teachers. I have smart kids.)

Anyway, the attack on one’s opponent, called ad hominem, occurs when one 1)runs out of a reasonable line of argumentation or 2)is losing the argument. It is a fallacy of distraction. See how easily it works? Political candidate “A” calls his opponent “B” a tool of Wall Street because he used to be a banker. Suddenly the argument becomes not a discussion of issues, but a defense of one’s personal character.  Success! “A” now has the upper hand, and “B” is on the run.

Watch any politician who wants to defend himself against accusations of ethical violations. When a reporter asks him a question regarding these accusations, what does he do? He tells the reporter his question was “dumb.” He confronts the reporter, repeating that his questions are “dumb,” and belittles the young reporter for wanting to make a name for himself in the news business. Has he answered the question? No, and the reporter doesn’t push through the ad hominem attack; he follows right down the path this politician wants him to go: away from the discussion at hand. It almost makes you think of a wild animal trapped in a cage, lashing out viciously. Oops–was that an ad hominem attack?

Ad hominem is one of the simplest fallacies to spot, because it is so easy to commit. It is part of our human nature, to reach for a low point instead of appealing to a more upright, honest level of discussion. Why go for honesty when you can drag someone through the mud?

When you watch election campaigns, see if you can spot ad hominem attacks. The streets will be filled with the mud of these filthy, childish tactics. How should a politician, or a news reporter or commentator, answer ad hominem attacks, instead of allowing himself to be driven down the muddy route?

For more information about ad hominem and other fallacies, see my text book, Thoughts Clothed in Words.