Teaching Critical Thinking

Dialogue and Dialectic

John E. McPeck

• Publisher: Routledge
• Year: 2016
• ISBN:
  9781315526478
• Edition: 1
• Topic: Education
• Subtopic: Education General

This book, first published in 1990, takes a critical look at the major assumptions which support critical thinking programs and discovers many unresolved questions which threaten their viability. John McPeck argues that some of these assumptions are incoherent or run counter to common sense, while others are unsupported by the available empirical evidence. This title will be of interest to students of the philosophy of education.

Part I
The position

Chapter 1
What kind of knowledge will transfer?

Every book or paper I have ever read, and every person I have ever asked, claims that the purpose of critical thinking is, in one way or another, to improve people's reasoning ability about everyday problems and issues. This aim, indeed, would appear to be straightforward enough and given the complex world we live in, few educational goals could be more laudable. But as simple and straightforward as this goal is to state, there is an important confusion over what it means. In particular, the basic notions of "reasoning ability" and "everyday problems" admit of more than one interpretation. And how one interprets these notions determines in large measure the type of instruction one designs to promote critical thinking. I, for one, continue to be surprised at how much more the standard approaches to critical thinking seem designed to fit the ready-made solutions than the solutions are made to fit the problem.

The standard approaches to critical thinking (this would include the work of Robert Ennis, Howard Kahane, Johnson and Blair, and Scriven's book Reasoning) all reduce the notions of "reasoning ability" and "everyday problem" to what have come to be called "argument analysis" or "everyday argument." More often than not they go on to collapse these distinctions by simply talking about "everyday reasoning"—a phrase which has a nice ring about it if for no other reason than it suggests something which is clear and understood by everybody. And on the face of it, what could be more useful? Thus, it is not surprising that students should flock to courses in critical thinking or informal logic after reading the enticing promissory notes contained in course descriptions. Indeed, there is a burgeoning cottage industry in textbooks and materials promising to improve everyday reasoning—as though this merely required a few special methods and skills. I suspect, in fact, that "argument analysis" has just the right amount of technical connotation, mixed with an intriguing jargon, to lend it the required air of legitimacy for commercial appeal. Perish the thought, but perhaps we are not far from the radio call-in show offering psychological help and counseling to all who would avail themselves. Unwittingly no doubt, but courses entitled "Speed Reasoning," and the like, come dangerously close to this kind of merchandising.

To underscore this trend, notice how far we have come: from the longstanding and legitimate need to improve reasoning about complex social problems o the quick-fix course in "everyday reasoning" and "argument analysis." Surely things cannot be so simple. We have not, to my knowledge, recently discovered any new miracle cure for the longstanding frailty of human judgment. Not one nor even three courses in critical thinking are likely to overcome this known deficiency in the educational process. Where did we go wrong? What accounts for the boundless enthusiasm for critical thinking courses as the hope for the future? Have we begun to believe our own promotional literature and taken its claims too seriously?

Reasoning ability

As noted, the standard approaches to critical thinking tend to fuse the notions of "reasoning ability," "argument analysis," and "everyday reasoning," using these terms almost interchangeably and treating them as one homogeneous ball of wax. But it is precisely at this point where we begin to go wrong; and this partially explains why we have been duped into taking our own rhetoric more seriously than performance justifies.

To take them one at a time, the notion of "reasoning ability" introduces several dificulties which quickly get lost in the shuffle. Notice that even to use a phrase like "reasoning ability" suggests that we are dealing with a single underlying capability. That is, we use "reasoning ability" in much the same way that we refer to the ability to speak English, say— either one does or does not possess the skill. For example, statements like "Ronald Reagan does, but Aleksey Kosygin does not speak English" accentuate this binary conception of language skill. Despite the fact that we can (and do) speak of a person using English more or less well, we still tend to think of it as an either/or skill. But what leads us to think that reasoning ability similarly denotes a singular skill? It could be that we have been led astray by the grammar of the phrase, thinking (uncritically!) that it too must denote some ontological reality. (Gilbert Ryle, where are you?!) Whatever the reason for such beguiling usage, reasoning ability covers all manner of cognitive phenomena, scarcely any cluster of which resembles another. Just as chess and crossword puzzles require reasoning ability, so does finding one's way home, investing money, fishing, driving a car, doing sums, shopping, playing hopscotch, voting intelligently, building math models, writing poems, and countless other classes of activities. Thus, the phrase "reasoning ability" does not denote any particular skill, nor indeed any particular kind of skill. About all that these activities have in common is that they are all done by conscious beings and require reasoning of some sort.

Elsewhere I have suggested that the concept of reasoning ability functions something like the concept of "speed" (see my Critical Thinking and Educational 1981). If, out of the blue, someone offered to improve our speed, the first thing we would properly ask is, "At what?" We'd probably all like to be speedier at running, or reading, or typing, or even changing mufflers, but we know that no single course could improve our speed at all things. Given that the range of things over which we'd like to improve our "reasoning ability" is perhaps even wider than the range of activities in which we might desire to improve our speed, then the prospects for improving our general reasoning ability are even dimmer. And the reason they are dim, I'm suggesting, is that the very notion of "general reasoning ability" is, upon reflection, incoherent.¹ At the very least, clarity will be served and progress more likely if we simply drop the phrase "reasoning ability" from our critical thinking lexicon, to be honest, and clear, we are not in the business of improving reasoning ability simpliciter.

Argument analysis

When the literature in informal logic and critical thinking uses the phrase "reasoning ability," is is usually referring to the reasoning involved in argument analysis. Indeed "reasoning ability" and "argument analysis" are sometimes used interchangeably. Again, however, these two notions are hardly equivalent.² In fact, I would argue that "argument analysis," as such, comprises only a very small portion of reasoning ability. In the early pages of Reasoning (p. 7), Scriven points out that there is no a priori reason to believe that animals do not reason, since some clearly manifest behavior which should count as reasoning. I have no quarrel with this observation, but surely he does not mean that they reason in the sense that they analyze arguments. Argument analysis, after all, has to do with the assessment of relations between propositions, and not only do animals not do this, but they would have little use for it if they did. I am sufficiently confident in saying this about animals because I'm convinced that the value of argument analysis has been greatly oversold to humans.

If one could calmly and objectively determine how much of an intelligent person's reasoning is actually spent analyzing arguments as such, I would be surprised if it reached 5 percent. (My social-science friends, by the way, are always dazzled by the statistical rigor with which I arrive at such figures!) In reasoning our way through the day, the month, or even the year, the bulk of our mental effort is spent choosing and deciding, solving problems, learning how to do things, interpreting meanings (e.g., complex statements or concepts, train schedules, tax laws, etc.), and perhaps most importantly, determining the truth, not the validity, of various statements and putative evidence. Argument analysis, on the other hand, as we have come to know it, is quite beside the major point of such reasoning. While it is true that argment analysis can something play a role in some (though not all) of these reasoning tasks, it is of limited value because: (1) argument analysis is always an ex post facto reconstruction of past reasoning, positing neither alternatives nor hypotheses for future consideration; and (2) the major focus of argument analysis is to determine the validity of arguments, not the truth of premises or evidence. And the truth (of premises) is more difficult to determine, but unquestionably of more value in practical affairs.

When one stops to think about it, the differentiation of validity from invalidity, as such, is a nearly exclusive preoccupation of logicians—and a fairly specialized or esoteric preoccupation at that. But when nonlogicians (e.g., business executives, artists, or average citizens) express an interest in improving their reasoning ability, I doubt that the systematic study of validity or soundness of arguments is what they have in mind. And as interesting a pursuit as argument analysis is, it remains little more than an article of faith that it provides the kind of reasoning improvement required for our complex social world. Moreover, this is as true of informal logical analysis as it is of the deductive variety. I agree with the view that effective reasoning is perhaps more important now than it ever was; but the study of argument analysis, formal or informal, seems an unlikely means for achieving that goal. As a philosopher, I have as much respect and appreciation for argument analysis as anyone, and I am aware of its obvious utility. But I do not think we are doing anyone a service by regarding it as the equivalent to, or a substitute for, general reasoning ability.

By liberally reinterpreting the general problems demanding reasoning, we have twisted the problem to fit our ready-made and cherished solutions—informal logic and argument analysis. We have mistaken the most visible tip of the iceberg (i.e., argument analysis) for the entire object. On the rare occasion when this view of reasoning is seriously questioned, we comfort ourselves with accepting the answer, "Oh well, even if argument analysis isn't the whole of reasoning, it's clearly the most important part of it." I think a more likely conclusion would be, "Since argument analysis is the only way that we philosophers know to describe reasoning, it must be synonymous with reasoning itself."

Everyday argument

In addition to the notions of reasoning ability and argument analysis, yet another troublesome term remains which requires scrutiny. That is the recurrent notion of "everyday argument," which is meant to circumscribe the domain of informal logic. Johnson and Blair suggest (perhaps correctly) that the phrase is meant to cover all those arguments which we might think of as "practical," "everyday," "ordinary," and/or "mundane," as distinct from "formal" or "mathematical" arguments. Perhaps the longer phrase "ordinary everyday arguments" captures this domain best. Be that as it may, the literature and textbooks on informal logic nevertheless gloss over and abuse this notion more than any other idea or concept in the area. Indeed, a much-needed paper still waits to be written on the concept of "everyday argument" and all that the phrase entails.

For the present, however, let us set aside the definitional question, simply accept Johnson and Blair's characterization of "everyday argument," and begin to consider what has to be known in order to analyze an everyday argument. That is, let us focus more closely on the actual ingredients of an everyday argument. As we proceed, we should bear in mind that the truth of the premises is every bit as important as the validity of the argument. This point is worth repeating not only because the analysis of real argument requires it, but also because informal logic distinguishes itself from formal logic in its preemptive concern with soundness in contrast to simple validity. Let us further agree (with the standard approach) that everyday argument is typically concerned with public issues of the sort that informed citizens must decide upon. Recent examples of such issues might include Reagan's economic policies, American intervention in El Salvador, economic sanctions against Po land, creationism versus evolution in science classes, nuclear disarmament, minority and women's rights, gun control, plea bargaining, nu clear power stations, etc. Several things can safely be observed about such issues. First, the survival of a healthy democracy requires public debate about such questions. Second, our public schools would like to prepare people for making intelligent decisions about such questions. Third, these are the sorts of questions where honest and intelligent disagreement is possible, even likely. Finally, these are complex issues in the sense that they typically encompass a substantial amount of information or putative facts, some of which are likely to be independently contentious.

Now the standard formal logic approach to such issues is to take an existing argument and examine it for any fallacies, formal or informal, that might affect its validity. This, in fact, is the strongest suit of the standard approach. Failing that, or when fallacies are not found, then the standard approach suggests looking for unstated assumptions and/or questioning the truth of given premises. If fault can be found in any of these facets of the argument, the one has objective grounds for rejecting the argument. This, admittedly, is a thumbnail sketch of the procedure, but a reasonably faithful characterization of the overall strategy.

Several serious shortcomings of this strategy deserve attention. Notice first that even if a bona fide fallacy is discovered in a given argument, one still cannot infer from this that the opposite point of view is correct. To so infer would be a clear case of "affirming the consequent." At best, all that one can infer is that this particular argument is fallacious, but for all that the general point of view could still be true (or preferable). Therefore, in this type of public issue, one is still not able to make an intelligent decision on the question simply because he or she knows that a particular argument is fallacious. Thus, detecting fallacies is not as useful (or practical) to the decision maker as some might assume. One still does not know what is right, true, or correct. I do no mean to suggest that validity, as such, is irrelevant to weighty public issues, but merely that its usefulness is quite limited in deciding such questions.

With respect to that phase of argument analysis called "assumption hunting," proponents of informal logic are already painfully aware of the difficulties inherent in this task. I do not, therefore, want to dwell on these problems here beyond making two points which have not received sufficient attention. First, it should be recognized that by making suitable assumptions it is always possible, in principle at least, to make a given argument as strong (or as weak) as one wants. For example, if the "principle of charity" is taken far enough one could take any abysmally weak argument and nurse it back to health: it simply requires positing suitable assumptions for it. Conversely, practical syllogisms which are otherwise strong can be weakened if suitable contexts, conditions or assumptions are brought to bear on them. What is to be regarded as "suitable" in either case will be determined by contingent contexts, beliefs, values, and judgments, etc., which perforce go beyond any set of rules, formal or informal. This is because rational judgment is distilled from a matrix of values and beliefs with infinite combinations.

The second point about looking for "unstated assumptions" is that when a single argument is being examined, such as one finds on an editorial page, there is no method for determining what assumptions the author might actually be making. And short of being psychic, there can be no such method. This is because there is potentially an indeterminate number of possible assumptions underlying any given premise. More over, each of these possible assumptions may have an indeterminate number of assumptions underlying them. The various suggestions we have seen in the literature, from Scriven and others, for avoiding a "straw-man," using the "principle of charity," and making "minimal assumptions" are all designed to create assumptions about the argument. I wish to stress the point that these new assumptions are created for the argument, rather than found or discovered, as the phrase "assumption hunting" might suggest. As "unstated assumptions," they do not come as part of the original argument. The analyst simply infers certain assumptions, even though they are not necessarily implied by the argument. When one does this, however, one is no longer analyzing the actual argument given but an altered or preferred interpretation of it. And this, I would suggest, is a very dangerous business indeed, not only because it can easily strap someone with an assumption that they were not in fact making, but also because it threatens to strip argument analysis of its objective integrity by encouraging subjective interpretations.

Clearly, something is wrong in this business of "assumption hunting," and that is the belief that assumption hunting is necessary for argument analysis. I submit that assumption hunting is neither necessary nor desirable in argument analysis. It is undesirable for the reasons suggested above. The only reason assumption hunting might appear necessary in the first place rests on confusing an assumption with a presupposition. But these are both logically and psychologically distinct. To wit: an assumption of an argument can be false yet the argument itself remain sound. By contrast, if a presupposition of an argument is false, then the argument cannot be sound.³ Assumptions, after all, have more to do with the contingent belief state of the arguer than with the objective validity of an argument. So, unless we are more interested in showing that some individual happens to be making a mistake (as one might in a debating society), we would be better advised to seek out false presuppositions, and treat assumption hunting as largely beside the point.

This whole tactic of assumption hunting points to the larger question ...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Half Title
• Title
• Copyright
• Original Title
• Original Copyright
• Dedication
• Contents
• Foreword
• Preface
• Acknowledgments
• Part I: The Position
• Part II: Critiques of the Position
• Notes
• Index