Tag: history

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The Hidden Fallacies of “the Wrong Side of History”

By Jim Spiegel

Ever heard someone refer to a certain view as being on the “wrong side of history”?  It is an increasingly common expression.  And I find it particularly annoying, because it is typically used as a way of challenging, if not completely dismissing, the view in question, while the speaker or writer offers nothing in the way of an argument or evidential support for doing so.

Lately this phrase has been employed by everyone from Lucas Case at the Huffington Post to Shephard Smith at Fox News as both have appealed to the notion that those opposing same-sex marriage are “on the wrong side of history.”  Other recent examples can be found here and here.

So what exactly does this popular phrase really mean?  Two possibilities come to mind.  The expression might be intended to suggest that, as time goes on, most people, perhaps everyone, will hold the view in question.  Thus, Case and Smith are just saying that eventually a strong majority of Americans will favor same-sex marriage.  But, if this is what it means, then we might well ask, what does that have to do with the truth of the view?  How relevant is majority opinion to discovering the correct view on this issue?  The answers to those questions, of course, are “Nothing” and “Not at all.”  To suggest otherwise is fallacious reasoning, a logical error known as the ad populum (appeal to popular opinion) fallacy.  Even if everyone agrees about a particular view, it doesn’t follow that its true.  (History is replete with cases of extremely popular views that we know to be horribly mistaken.)

Another possible meaning of the expression “wrong side of history” is that the view in question will eventually be proven true, such as through some scientific or philosophical argument.  So, on this interpretation, Case and Smith are using the phrase to communicate their belief that reason will inevitably demonstrate that their view, that same-sex marriage should be legal, is correct.  But how could Case and Smith be so confident about that?  They certainly don’t offer any arguments themselves, nor even suggest whence such arguments might eventually come.  So their bold proclamations really amount to groundless dogma.  And this, too, is a logical fallacy, specifically known as the fallacy of unsubstantiated claim.

These two interpretations of the phrase “wrong side of history” seem to me to be the only really plausible ones.  Perhaps there is a more reasonable sense of the phrase that I am overlooking.  If so, those who use this expression have effectively concealed it, for they never explain what they mean.  But if I’ve correctly identified the hidden meanings of the phrase, then the implications aren’t flattering for those who use it.  For it appears that those who do so commit one of two fallacies: the ad populum fallacy or the fallacy of unsubstantiated claim.  In either case, use of this phrase appears to be, as it were, on the wrong side of logic.

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Thoughts on Hitler’s Demise

By Jim Spiegel

I’m a big fan of Quentin Tarantino films, as is probably apparent to regular readers of this blog.  I am especially fond of his most recent effort, Inglourious Basterds (see my October 29, 2009 post for a full review), which excels in nearly all cinematic categories.  Some have been critical of the film because of its deliberate (and extreme) distortion of history.  In case you haven’t seen the film—spoiler alert!—the story concerns two fictional plots to assassinate Hitler and his fellow Third Reich imps.  Unlike the actual Stauffenberg assassination attempt that merely injured the Fuhrer, Tarantino’s film brings Hitler to an extremely violent end.  Part of the incentive to concoct such a story, presumably, would be to give viewers the satisfaction of watching Hitler get what he deserved—indeed, the fate that many of us would like to see all genocidal maniacs meet.  I think Tarantino has indicated as much in some interviews about the film.

While reading excerpts from Ian Kershaw’s recent Hitler biography, I’ve been reflecting a bit on the historical facts and have concluded that Tarantino’s invented story of Hitler’s demise is really less satisfying (in the sense of being pleased by the wicked getting their just deserts) than what actually took place.   On the afternoon of April 30, 1945, Hitler, Eva Braun, and assorted Nazi officers were holed up in a bunker at the Reich Chancellery in Berlin, as the Red Army closed in.  The Fuhrer had heard that Mussolini had been captured and killed (though he probably was not aware of the gory details), and he wished to avoid such a fate, as well as the ignominious prospect of his body being permanently displayed by the Soviets as a trophy of their triumph.  So Hitler’s plan was to commit suicide and have his body cremated.  Specifically, he would take a pill of prussic acid.  However, being doubtful about the effectiveness of the poison, he instructed one of his officers to test it on his dog, an Alsatian named Blondi.  The dog died almost immediately upon ingesting the poison—which apparently prompted no emotional response from Hitler, despite the fact that he showed more love to the animal than any human in his life, including his long-time lover Eva Braun.

So when it was clear the Soviet army was only a few hundred meters away and could storm the Chancellery at any minute.  Hitler and Eva Braun executed their plan…and themselves.

Why is this true story more fitting than that envisioned by Tarantino, or, for that matter, any of our own dreams of, say, a live Hitler capture, trial, and execution?  For one thing, there is the powerful symbolism of the self-destructiveness of evil.  The pursuit of absolute power is self-defeating, and those who live by the murderous sword often fall upon it.  Hitler, of course, is only one of the more recent examples of this fundamental truth about the human condition.  History has seen myriad despots destroy themselves, whether directly by their own hand or as an indirect consequence of their wicked actions.

One must also consider the emotional dimension of the story.  What despair must Hitler have experienced in those final days and, especially, his last hours.  Perhaps during that time he came to some sober reflections on the true moral horror of what he had done.  Perhaps not.  But the despair he felt surely gave him at least a taste of what so many millions of innocent Jews and other victims of the Nazi scourge felt as they awaited their fate in concentration camps—a sense of hopelessness and the most sickening sorrow.

Of course, in the end, there really is no completely just recompense for the wicked on this earth.  As Scripture tells us, we must wait for Judgment Day for that (cf. Eccl. 12:14; 2 Cor. 5:10).  But human history, and particular narratives, may nonetheless be more or less pleasing from the standpoint of justice.  Some point better than others to deep moral, spiritual, and human truths.  And it seems to me that, in these respects, however much we may want to indulge our own fantasies about Hitler’s fate, we can’t improve on the tale as told by God.

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Is Busyness the Modern Cross to Bear?

By Amy Spiegel

History is a fascinating business:  to see, with the 20/20 vision of the present, the themes of years past; to study eras from beginning to end with the comfortable assurance that you have already read the last page of the story and know whether the bad guys won or lost. Being a Christian brings, of course, an even great poignancy to the events of the past, because we believe that all of those events are leading toward something, serving a greater good.

I fear sometimes that my love of history taints my vision a bit. While my current surroundings seem bleak and dull, times of yore begin to appear rather rose colored. I look back longingly and see romance and sunshine rather than disease and deprivation. This starry-eyed longing for days gone by is usually directly proportional to the stress and frustration I am experiencing here and now. “Oh those pioneer women,” I say to myself, “they never had to deal with doctors’ waiting rooms and crowded grocery stores.” Of course, they also had to deliver their own babies, often dying in the process, and they had to eat whatever they could manage to grow themselves. When we near the end of some sports season or another (currently it’s soccer), I begin to corner Jim, threatening to pull the kids out of all their extracurricular activities and move to the backwaters of Montana, preferably with him. Whatever the cause, be it baseball, art lessons or just the social demands of life, I tend to see this harried pace as an obstacle to be overcome, a problem to be solved rather than just a characteristic element of everyday life in the 21st century. But perhaps that isn’t so.

Now there is busyness and there is busyness. Jim and I are fairly conservative with regards to outside stuff. We each have a regular Bible study and the kids have one or two outside commitments that we feel are important. While our schedule does take some organization of the You-pick-up-so-and-so-while-I-stay-at-home-with-everyone-else variety, it doesn’t require strategists from the Pentagon to plan or accomplish. So maybe all my complaining about the pace of modern life is chronological envy or simply ingratitude. Many of the technologies I grouse about (enrichment activities for the kids, slow internet connections, mini vans) bring with them a host of advantages that seem to be overlooked in my quest for “simplicity.” What would a pioneer woman have given to have been able to pile the kids in the car in order to meet a friend at the park, or to email her family thousands of miles away?

This is not to say that we should follow blindly after the latest thing just because we can. But perhaps I need to show a greater appreciation for the era in which I have been placed. It is unique, and a limited number of us will experience it first-hand. If God can speak to humanity through the Black Plague and the French Revolution, then surely He can make something beautiful out of Starbucks and mini vans. You just need the right perspective to see it.