Argument from Final Consequences, feat. Jack White

In the SG definition, "Such arguments (also called teleological) are based on a reversal of cause and effect, because they argue that something is caused by the ultimate effect that it has, or purpose that is serves." As the White Stripes put it in their song, "Effect and Cause": "first comes an action, and then a reaction, which you can't switch around for your own satisfaction." Another fitting example from the song: "if you're headed for the grave, don't blame the hearse."

I've decided to be a bit abstract in my interpretation of the fallacy. Normally, the negative space, or the space around the snail shape, is an effect of the snail. In this drawing, I have shifted the negative space to the foreground, allowing it to cause a shadow. I have effectively cut out the negative space and placed in front of a telescope. The fallacy is sometimes called the "teleological" (end/purpose) fallacy because it makes effects, or ends, seem closer, earlier, or more important than they really are. I like to think of it as the telescope fallacy, magnifying results rather than underlying causes.

One impulse to treat the effect as the cause may come from an urgent need to place credit or blame on the nearest event, as when I kill or reward the messenger.

The reversal may also arise from a confused perception of order, as in the idea only smart people study, or only people who purchase diamonds become rich. As with correlation without causation, we may see that cause and effect have some connection, but we get the order backwards.

Another source of this fallacy may be our ambiguous use of language. In some cases, when we discuss the "reason" an event occurs, we don't mean its true cause, but rather its grander purpose, its "ultimate reason for being," which is really an effect. I might say that I'm eating a sandwich because it fills me up, when really, I'm eating a sandwich because I purchased it(hopefully) and put it in my mouth.

The fatalist takes the problem one step further, believing that the universe has intentions, and all events to occur for the sake of final effects. The string of causes that happen along the way are merely trappings, side effects rather than necessary steps. This view can give the world a nice feeling of organization . . . and terrifying enclosure. Shakespeare knew well enough how we like to see a fated effect control all the mounting action in a play and finish in the spotlight. Or he would have, if The Globe had used spotlights.

Certainly, visualizing ends and intentions can be a powerful motivation to action, which creates effects. The mistake comes when we say that the house guided the construction crew, when we really mean the blueprint.

Bringing the effect before the cause is fallacious because the two have an order in time, and that order cannot be artificially reversed . . . unless you're making an intentionally fallacious and impossible picture of snails.

In some real-life cases, the effect actually does lead back to the cause, which creates a feedback loop of events. The seed grows a plant which drops a seed that becomes a plant, and so on. This can lead to the problem of "circular cause and consequence," which is also listed as a fallacy. Building loops of cause and effect into thought patterns (I consume biased media, which increases my bias, which makes me crave more biased media) or into institutions (one cannot get insurance if one has not had insurance in the past) creates closed systems that exclude new input or new members.

Circular cause and consequence is truly a separate problem from the one I set out to illustrate. However, the feeling of circularity and isolation was also an inspiration for the circles surrounding the snails, forcing them to travel in loops.

For a refresher on the Argument from Final Consequences, I recommend you listen to the White Stripes song. A word of warning: Jack White's vocal stylings can resemble those of a deranged alley cat to those hearing them for the first time. However, after a few plays, his voice grew on me a bit, which made me listen to him more . . . Oh, dear.