Logic and Nature: A Glimpse into the Logician's Toolbox

Chapter 1 - Logic and Lunacy

Before diving into the meat of the matter, I should make clear that the title of this first chapter, Logic and Lunacy, is not my own. Rather, it comes from a fine book by the name of All is Grist, written by an even finer man, the great G.K. Chesterton. The inspiring chapter "On Logic and Lunacy" was what primarily motivated me to start my humble series about logic on Wattpad. If you yourself have never come across any Chesterton in your reading, you are doing yourself a great disservice; he is a remarkable author who has a rather interesting sense of humor, which gives his writings a particular charm to it, something that would otherwise not be present in other discourses. 

In a way, I think as though it might be pointless to have this first chapter in the first place, when I could instead just direct the Wattpad reader to Chesterton himself. Indeed, why bother with my silly attempt at intellectual discourse when there exists Chesterton, who himself is many times smarter than me? In spite of this, I hope to still bring something to the table, as it were, and I hope that you, dear reader, will gain something from this as well. 

Chesterton opens up his chapter with a somewhat depressing outlook on the place of logic in modern society, and I think he is right to do this. Indeed, the very people nowadays who exclaim, "Please, would you just be logical!" are more often than not themselves illogical. Perhaps such people have no idea of what true "logic" entails, and rather assume that their line of reasoning to a given conclusion has to be correct, merely on account of because it seems to be correct to them. 

Let us start with a silly situation that does not matter. To use Chesterton's example, let us imagine a debate where the interlocutors are arguing whether women ought to have cigars. Such a sentence that might be said in this debate would be: "If you let a woman smoke a cigarette, why can't you just be logical and let her smoke a cigar?" Now I do not care whether she smokes a cigarette, a cigar, an e-cig, three cigars at once, or whether she is an anti-tobacco fanatic. But I do care quite a bit if anyone reads that aforementioned sentence and thinks that any ounce of logic is being deployed. You might as well say, "You like horses; why don't you be logical and like giraffes?" The only answer is: "I don't, and it is not illogical, because it does not in any way invade the realm of logic." One has a perfect right to say he likes one thing and not something else, even if those two things are somewhat similar. 

Questions of logic are never questions of liking. There is no logical compulsion for someone to like giraffes because she also happens to like horses. Anyone who thinks that matters of liking and subjectivity belong in the realm of logic are using a horribly warped notion of "logic."

Before I return to our cigarette problem, I need to talk about a philosophical idea called "first principles." What philosophers call "first principles" are the underlying foundation for an argument, which must be accepted as true for the argument to progress. First principles themselves cannot be proven (they are assumptions), otherwise they would not be first, but rather come after the statements that prove them. In other words, we have to have at least a little bit of faith in the first principles in order to have an argument. I would say in most cases, first principles are accepted by all parties. 

To give an example, imagine I made the argument: "It is wrong to commit murder. Therefore, you should not commit murder." The simplicity of this example makes it almost silly, but it works for the sake of talking about first principles. There is, in fact, an extra invisible statement in that argument--a first principle--which is assumed to be accepted by all parties. That first principle is "There exists concepts of good and evil; one should strive toward the good, and avoid what is evil." I would hope that you, dear reader, believe that it is good to be good, and it is bad to be bad. This kind of first principle is so basic that I have no doubt that the vast majority of readers would be willing to accept it as true. But, if this first principle was not accepted, then it becomes pointless to argue that it is wrong to commit murder. Indeed, how can you convince someone that murder is wrong, if that person does not believe in the concept of "wrong" to begin with? It must be assumed as a first principle. 

This is essentially the problem when the modern man says, "Would you just be logical!" He cannot take his own advice, and therefore he cannot state his own first principles. Let us go back the the cigarette example. To remind the reader, the argument in question is this: "If you let a woman smoke a cigarette, why can't you just be logical and let her smoke a cigar?"

You might already be on to the problem here, dear reader, namely that there is a lack of first principles here. Maybe what is meant is this: "I approve of women smoking cigarettes because women can jolly well do anything they want to. Therefore, it is illogical in me to object to women liking cigars (or anything else, for that matter)." This argument is quite logical, because the logical reason is given as a first principle: Women should be able to do whatever they want. Another way of fixing this would be to say: "My first principle is that women should be able to do everything that men do. Therefore, I am bound to approve of cigarettes to women just as much as I approve of cigarettes to men." This is also perfectly logical. In both of these examples, there is no matter of liking cigarettes or liking cigars. 

I would like to take a moment here to make sure you, dear reader, do not jump to the other end of the spectrum, as it were. There is a common stereotype in pop culture about the typical logician: A man (or woman, but usually man) who is bound by logic and reason, who has no room in his heart for emotions, who is governed only by his brain power, whose opinions or biases never sway him in a direction. Spock from the Star Trek franchise comes to mind as the best example. Sherlock Holmes is perhaps another (or most anyone in the genius detective role). You might even think these kind of characters are incapable (or at least severely hindered) of falling in love, for there can be no room in their hearts for such a silly emotion such as love. 

On the contrary, there is nothing illogical in having affections, passions, or appetites, so long as we recognize them reasonably as what they are. Logicians are not cold-blooded anti-romantics who delight only in solving logic problems. People who study logic also have dreams, desires, and emotions. Perhaps they are just a little bit better at identifying them as such, and leaving them aside when it comes to argumentation. 

To conclude this first chapter, I want to go back to the beginning of it, where I mentioned how Chesterton is disappointed in the modern man's idea of logic. In the midst of his desperation, I want to offer a word of hope. All of us use logic, whether we consciously know it or not, to some degree in our every day lives. To borrow from Chesterton again, using logic is like using our legs. Logic is as normal as legs, but legs can be neglected as well as logic. Our reason can atrophy if we do not train ourselves to understand true logic. But the opposite is also true: With practice, our rational minds can grow strong, and we can be well equipped to handle the voice who cries out, "Would you just be logical!"