Begging the Question

I typically let most grammar and usage mistakes slide. Mind you, when I find one in print or hear one spoken, it still makes me cringe. I have learned, though, just to let it go, except when I think that pointing it out would be beneficial to all parties involved (for instance, when I am grammarian at a Toastmasters meeting). I come across a few mistakes, however, over and over again, and sometimes I must comment.

The particular oft-misused phrase stuck in my craw at the moment is begging the question. Countless times have I heard or read something like, “The Rockies have been on a tear since firing manager Clint Hurdle. That begs the question, why was Hurdle not fired sooner?” The fact of the matter is Hurdle’s firing does not beg the question of timing. It raises the question.

Begging the question (a.k.a. petitio principii) is a logical fallacy in which a statement or claim is assumed to be true without evidence other than the statement or claim itself. Note that in the phrase begging the question, beg does not mean “plead for” but rather “assume” and question does not mean “a sentence in interrogative form” but rather “the thing one is trying to prove.” Thus, begging the question literally means “assuming the thing one is trying to prove.”

For example, the famous zinger, “When did you stop beating your wife?” begs the question. It assumes that you have been beating your wife, even though no evidence has been produced that you do in fact beat her. Another example is, “OJ could not have killed his wife, because he just wouldn’t do that sort of thing.” It assumes that OJ could not have killed his wife because he would not kill his wife. No evidence is produced to suggest why he would not perform such an act other than “he just wouldn’t.”*

Perhaps I am being way too anal about this, but I believe that clear and cogent thinking is extremely important, and an important part of solid thinking is having a solid understanding of the words and phrases used. Furthermore, not only is the phrase begging the question often misused, the real fallacy of question-begging is common, as well. Thus knowing the true meaning protects you from misusing your words and your logic.

So the next time you read, “The economic crisis begs the question, when will things turn around?” join me in cringing in your chair. Let out a good, hearty scream while you are at it. And then relax by chanting this mantra: It doesn't beg the question; it raises the question...It doesn't beg the question; it raises the question...It doesn't beg the question; it raises the question...It'll make you feel better. I promise.

*Apologies for the misogynistic examples; ladies, please do not take offense!

A Challenging Legacy

I never realized what kind of a man he was until it was too late.

I last saw my grandfather a week ago Sunday. It was my birthday, and Jessica, Brodie and I had traveled back to my hometown in Kansas for a long weekend. All of the family was supposed to come over to my parents' house at 5 PM Saturday to see us and celebrate. A little before 5, Grandma called and said that Grandpa was running a fever. It was decided that they would not come, since there was a baby at the house. A little after 5, Grandma called back and said that Grandpa had fallen. My dad, aunt and cousin left the party to go to my grandparents' house to help out. My cousin, an RN, decided once they were there that Grandpa needed to go to the hospital. That is where he was the next day when I saw him.

I walked into the room, and Dad introduced me to him. Grandpa, whose mind was failing him, said, "I remember Jon, but that's not what he looks like." (I can't blame him for that; I have changed my looks quite a bit over the years.) After we assured Grandpa that I was his grandson Jon, he turned and looked at me and asked, "Are you a Christian?"

This is when I realized what kind of man my Grandpa was. Here he lay dying in a hospital bed. His body was failing him; his mind already had. He wasn't even really clear about who I was. Yet he wanted to make sure that I believed in Christ. His faith somehow, miraculously, was still strong.

I assured him that I was a Christian and introduced him to his newest great-grandson, Brodie. In the course of our short conversation, he repeatedly told me to raise Brodie up to honor his father and mother and as a Christian. Again, I witnessed a man at the end of his days--so weak he couldn't stand--and his primary concern was to make sure that my family and me (who were, for all he knew, strangers) loved Jesus.

He soon fell asleep and I left the room. That was the last time he was lucid, and although he lived for a few more days, that was when I said goodbye to Grandpa. That was also the moment that his legacy was crystalized in my mind. He was a man of faith.

My dad told me about the last thing Grandpa said. He had spotted a new doctor, one he hadn't seen before, and in a garbled mumble, said to him, "Do you believe in Jesus as your personal Lord and Savior?"

A man of faith to the very end.