[Off-Topic] The Argument from Intimidation

There is a certain type of argumentation that is, in fact, not argumentation at all, but a means of avoiding debate and extorting agreement from an adversary based on unchallenged notions. It’s a method of bypassing logic using psychological pressure. Since it is particularly common in today’s culture and will continue to grow, it’s good to learn to identify it and be on guard.

This method has a certain similarity to the ad hominem fallacy, comes from the same psychological root, but is essentially different. The ad hominem fallacy consists in trying to counter an argument by accusing the character of its proponent. Example: “candidate X is immoral, since his argument is false.”

The psychological pressure method consists in threatening the integrity of an opponent’s character to then contest his argumentation, without debate. Example: “Only the immoral does not see that candidate X’s argument is false.”

In the first case, candidate X’s immorality (real or invented) is offered as proof of the falsity of his arguments. In the second case, the falsity of his argument is asserted arbitrarily and offered as proof of his immorality.

In today’s epistemological jungle, the second method is used more frequently than any other type of irrational argument. It should be classified as a logical fallacy and can be designated as “the argument from intimidation.”

The essential characteristic of the argument from intimidation is its appeal to moral self-doubt and its dependence on the victim’s fear, guilt or ignorance. It is used in the form of an ultimatum requiring the victim to renounce his idea without discussion, under penalty of being considered morally unworthy. The pattern is always: “Only those who are bad (dishonest, cruel, insensitive, ignorant, etc.) have these ideas.”

The classic example of the intimidation argument is the story The Emperor’s New Clothes

In this story, some charlatans sell non-existent clothes to the Emperor, claiming that the unusual beauty of the clothing makes them invisible to those who are morally condemnable at heart. Note the psychological factors necessary to make this work: the charlatans count on the Emperor’s self-doubt; and he does not question this claim, nor his moral authority. He surrenders at the same time, claiming that indeed he sees the garments, thus denying the evidence of his own eyes and invalidating his own conscience instead of facing a threat to his precarious self-esteem. His distance from reality can be assessed by the fact that he prefers to walk naked in the street, displaying his non-existent clothes to the people, rather than risk incurring the moral condemnation of two scoundrels. The people, motivated by the same psychological panic, try to outdo each other with loud exclamations about the splendor of their garments, until a child shouts that the king is naked.

This is the exact model of the work of the Argument from Intimidation, as it is being worked around us today.

We have all heard and continue to hear this kind of thing constantly:

• “Only those who lack more refined instincts fail to accept the morality of altruism.”
• “Only the ignorant do not know that reason has been invalidated.”
• “Only black-hearted reactionaries can defend capitalism.”
• “Only war-mongers can oppose the United Nations.”
• “Only lunatics still believe in freedom.”
• “Only cowards do not see that life is a sewer.”
• “Only the superficial seek beauty, happiness, fulfillment, values or heroes.”

As an example of an entire field of activity based on nothing but the argument from intimidation, I give you modern art, where, in order to prove that they actually possess the special discernment that only the “mystical” elite has, the population tries to outdo each other in loud exclamations of the splendor of some pieces of canvas smeared with paint.

The argument from intimidation dominates today’s discussions in two forms. In public speeches and print, it flourishes in the form of long, involved, elaborate structures of unintelligible verbiage, conveying nothing except a clear moral threat. (“Only primitive-minded people fail to perceive that clarity is oversimplification.”) But, particularly, in everyday life, it comes without words, in the lines, in the form of inarticulate sounds containing undeclared implications. It is based not on what is said, but on how it is said — not on content, but on tone of voice.

The tone is generally one of belligerent or disdainful incredulity. “Surely you’re not a defender of capitalism, are you?” And if that does not intimidate the prospective victim, who responds correctly: “I am” — the dialogue proceeds more or less like this:

• “Ah, you couldn’t be! It’s not true!
• “True.”
• “But everyone knows capitalism is outdated!”
• “I don’t.”
• “Ah, it can’t be true!”
• “Since I don’t know, will you tell me the reasons for thinking that capitalism is outdated?”
• “Oh, don’t be ridiculous!”
• “Will you tell me the reasons?”
• “Well, if you really don’t know, I could possibly tell you!”

All this is accompanied by raised eyebrows, wide eyes, shrugs, grunts, and the whole arsenal of non-verbal signals communicating sinister insinuations and emotional vibrations of a single kind: disapproval.

If these vibrations fail, if such debaters are challenged, it turns out that they have no arguments, no evidence, no proof, no reason, no motive to base themselves on — that their noisy aggression serves to hide the vacuum — that the argument from intimidation is a confession of intellectual impotence.

The primordial archetype of this argumentation is evident (and so are the reasons for its recourse to the neo-mysticism of our era): “For those who understand, no explanation is necessary; for those who do not understand, none is possible.”

The psychological source of this argument is social metaphysics.

A social metaphysician is one who treats other men’s consciousness as superior to his own and to the facts of reality. For a social metaphysician, the moral evaluation of himself by others is a primary concern that replaces truth, facts, logical reason. Others’ reproach is so terrible for him that nothing can resist its impact within his consciousness, thus he would deny the evidence of his own eyes and invalidate his own conscience in favor of the moral approval of any idle charlatan. Only a social metaphysician could conceive such an absurd thing as hoping to win an intellectual argument by insinuating: “But people won’t like you!”

Strictly speaking, a social metaphysician does not perceive his argumentation in conscious terms: he finds it “instinctively,” by introspection, since it represents his psycho-epistemological form of life. We have all found the irritating type of person who does not listen to what someone says, but to the emotional vibrations of the other’s voice, eagerly translating them into approval or reproach, and then responding accordingly. This is a kind of self-imposed argument from intimidation, to which a social metaphysician surrenders in most of his human encounters. And thus, when he finds an adversary, when his premises are challenged, he automatically resorts to the weapon that scares him most: the withdrawal of his moral approval.

Since this kind of psychological terror is unknown to healthy men, it can be considered as argument from intimidation, precisely because of its innocence. Not understanding the reason for the argumentation or believing that it is just a meaningless bluff, they assume that its user has some kind of knowledge or reasons to support his seemingly self-confident, belligerent claims, giving him the benefit of the doubt — and are left in confused perplexity. It is thus that social metaphysicians victimize the young, the innocent, the conscientious.

This is particularly prevalent in college classrooms. Many professors use the argument from intimidation to stifle independent thinking among students, to dodge questions they cannot answer, to discourage any critical analysis of their arbitrary premises or any deviation from the intellectual status quo.

“Aristotle? My dear fellow” (a tired sigh) “if you had read Professor Spiffkin’s work” (respectfully) “from the January 1912 issue of the magazine Intellect, that” (with disdain) “obviously you didn’t read, you would know” (lightly) “that Aristotle was refuted.”

“Professor X?” (where X is the name of a distinguished free enterprise economics theorist) “You’re quoting Professor X? Oh come on!” – followed by a sarcastic laugh intended to convey that Professor X has been completely discredited. (By whom? End of discussion.)

These professors are frequently assisted by the gang of “liberal” lackeys in the classroom, who explode in laughter at appropriate moments.

In our political life, the argument from intimidation is the almost exclusive method of discussion. Predominantly, today’s political debates consist of smear and excuse, or intimidation and appeasement. The first is generally (but not exclusively) practiced by “liberals,” the second by “conservatives.” The champions, in this context, are the “liberal” Republicans who practice both: the first, in relation to their “conservative” Republican colleagues, the second, to Democrats.

All smears are intimidation arguments: they consist of derogatory assertions, with any hint or proof, offered as substitutes for evidence or proof, aiming at the moral cowardice or unthinking credulity of the listeners.

The argument from intimidation is not new, has been used in all ages and cultures, but rarely on such a broad scale as today. It is used more crudely in politics than in other fields of activity, but is not limited to politics. It permeates our entire culture. It is a symptom of cultural bankruptcy.

How can one resist this argument? There is only one weapon against it: moral certainty.

When entering any intellectual battle, large or small, public or private, one cannot seek, desire or expect approval from the enemy. Truth or falsehood must be the exclusive concern and criterion of judgment — not the approval or disapproval of anyone, and above all not the approval of those whose standards are the opposite of one’s own. (obs: have you seen those arguments that start “I respect you very much, but…” — clearly seeking approval).

Let me emphasize that the intimidation argument does not consist in placing moral judgment on intellectual issues, but of substituting moral judgment for intellectual argument. Moral assessments are implicit in most intellectual issues; it is not merely allowed, but obligatory to place a moral judgment when and where necessary; suppressing such judgment is an act of moral cowardice. But a moral judgment must always follow, and never precede (or substitute), the reasons on which it is based.

When one gives reasons for a verdict, one assumes responsibility for it and places oneself at the disposal of objective judgment: if one’s reasons are wrong or false, one suffers the consequences. But condemning without foundation is an act of irresponsibility, a kind of moral hit-and-run, which is the essence of the argument from intimidation.

One observes that men who use this argument are those who fear a founded moral attack more than any other type of battle, and when they find a morally confident adversary, they are the highest in protesting that “moralization” must be kept out of intellectual discussions. But, discussing evil in a way that implies neutrality is a way of approving it.

The argument from intimidation illustrates why it is important to have certainty of one’s premises and one’s moral foundation. It illustrates the kind of intellectual trap that awaits those who venture without a complete, clear and consistent analysis of one’s own convictions, fully integrated to the foundations — those who imprudently jump into battle, armed only with a few random floating notions in a fog of the unknown, the unidentified, the undefined, the unproven, and supported by nothing but their feelings, hopes and fears. The argument from intimidation is their greatest enemy. In moral and intellectual issues, it is not enough to be right: it is necessary to know that one is right.

by Ayn Rand – last chapter of “The Virtue of Selfishness”, 1964