Why your Thanksgiving dinner debate was probably just conclusions dressed up as reasoning
Picture this scene.
You’re at Thanksgiving dinner. Your uncle corners you in the kitchen to explain why he knows climate change is a hoax. He talks for fifteen minutes. His voice gets louder. He mentions Al Gore, something about ice cores, and the fact that it snowed in April. By the end, he’s basically yelling at the refrigerator while you stare at the potato salad wishing you could teleport.
Sound familiar? Most of us have been there.
Here’s my question: Was that an argument?
In the everyday sense, we’d probably call it one. Your uncle certainly thought he was making his case. He got worked up. He had strong feelings. He walked away convinced he’d proven something.
But in the sense we need to start using that word, no. That wasn’t an argument at all.
We’ve spent ten essays diagnosing what goes wrong inside your head. System 1 hijacks your thinking. System 2 refuses to engage. Shortcuts distort perception. Biases filter reality. Your ego defends itself. Memories lie. The crowd sways you.
But understanding why people reason badly is only half the battle. Now we need to learn what good reasoning looks like. That starts with a specific definition of what an argument is.
Stuart Hanscomb lays this out in “Critical Thinking: The Basics.” An argument, in the logical sense, is a set of statements – called premises – offered in support of another statement called the conclusion. Premises plus conclusion. Reasons plus what the reasons are supposed to prove.
That hypothetical kitchen rant contains almost no argument in this sense. Your uncle stated a conclusion: climate change is a hoax. He expressed emotions: frustration, certainty, contempt. He listed adjacent topics: Al Gore, ice cores, April snow. What he did not do was offer premises that logically connect to his conclusion.
Compare that to an actual argument: “Carbon dioxide traps heat. Human activity has increased atmospheric CO2 by about 50% since pre-industrial times. Therefore, human activity is contributing to warming.” Three statements. The first two are premises. The third is a conclusion that follows.
Notice what’s different. In the logical argument, you can evaluate whether the premises are true. You can examine whether the conclusion follows. You can identify exactly where you agree or disagree. You can have a productive conversation.
In the kitchen rant, there was nothing to engage with. No claims to evaluate. Just a conclusion wrapped in emotion and adjacent facts that didn’t support anything. This is what most “arguments” in public discourse actually are – conclusions masquerading as reasoning.
Here’s why this distinction matters.
Every cognitive bias we’ve discussed operates most powerfully on conclusions, not premises. Your confirmation bias doesn’t scrutinize conclusions you already want to believe – it scrutinizes the path to get there. When someone presents an unsupported conclusion matching your existing beliefs, System 1 just accepts it. Done.
But when someone presents actual premises leading to a conclusion, something different happens. Your brain has to process each step. This engages System 2. This creates opportunities for genuine assessment rather than pure tribal reflex.
The whole point of learning to identify arguments is to slow down and actually examine what’s being claimed. Is there even an argument here, or just a conclusion with emotional decoration? If there’s an argument, what are the premises? Are those premises true? Does the conclusion follow?
Most political “debate” in America fails at step one. People shout conclusions at each other. My side is right. Your side is evil. Everyone gets more entrenched. Nobody’s mind changes. This isn’t an accident. Shouting conclusions is easier than constructing arguments. It feels satisfying. It signals tribal loyalty.
Here’s the uncomfortable part. In that Thanksgiving scenario, the person listening probably doesn’t do much better. Rolling your eyes and muttering something about scientific consensus is also just stating a conclusion without premises. Being right about the science is nice, but it doesn’t make your reasoning any better than his.
Knowing the difference between an argument and a fight means knowing when someone is giving you something to engage with – and when you’re offering something back. The next few essays will dig into how arguments work: how premises connect to conclusions, how to spot hidden assumptions, how to evaluate whether reasoning holds together. But none of those tools matter if you can’t first recognize when an argument is present.
I often run into this lack of argument problem when people in my comments criticize my use of AI images. They drop conclusions that they have heard other people make, but rarely present a valid argument.
If you’ve made it this far – I’ll share with you that I’ve posted several things over the past few days to illustrate the concepts in this essay – if you want to test yourself – go back and see if you can spot the mistakes in the comments.
So – here’s my challenge for you. The next time you’re in a political discussion, ask yourself: what exactly is being said? Is anyone actually making an argument? Are there premises being offered in support of conclusions? Are people making conclusions that are not being argued:? Or are we all just yelling conclusions at each other and calling it thinking?
My guess is you’ll be surprised how rarely genuine arguments appear.