These are representations for a way in which we naturally think everyday. I knew that in order to pass my exam today, I would have had to study the last chapter. But I was too tired and could not focus last night, so I went to bed early. And sure enough, the exam covered the last chapter. I didn’t do so well, but at least I feel better now that I’ve had some sleep. Embedded in this sad internal dialogue are a couple of deductive arguments: If I study, I will pass. I did not study, so I did not pass. If I sleep, I will feel better. I slept, so I feel better. A certain conclusion necessarily follows from two propositions; this is the basic form of an argument called the syllogism which can also look like:

All x are y. All y are z. Therefore, all x are z.

In everyday speech, this may be: All wars that inflict more harm than good are unjust, and this war certainly inflicts more harm than good, so this war is unjust. These ways of organizing and analyzing thought typically fall under a branch of philosophy called logic. The study of logic, as the ancients maintained, “is extremely useful, for it indicates what is valid, and this makes a big contribution towards correcting one’s opinions; such orderliness and good memory indicate attentive comprehension… /by providing the means by which/ things more clearly grasped lead to something which is less clearly grasped” (Diogenes Laertius on the Stoics, VII.45). Understanding the ways in which we think and express ourselves makes us better thinkers, communicators, and listeners. This cornerstone of philosophical practice can be acquired through storytelling, forensic, and grouping games which assess (1) the form of an argument (e.g. not deductive, but inductive or generalizing), (2) the soundness and validity of argumentation, and perhaps most exciting, (3) methods by which simple arguments (sound or otherwise) can be made more attractive and persuasive.