Whataboutisms as a Philosophical Problem

Why has it been difficult to offer satisfactory account of fallacious whataboutisms?

Act 1. A accuses B for doing bad thing X.

Act 2. B argues that A is being a hypocrite. She gives evidence that A does not actually care about X – for example, because A does X (or something sufficiently similar) herself or because she has remained silent when, knowingly to her, others have patently also done X (or something sufficiently similar) – and thus asks A to recognize that she is using X just to get at her for other reasons that have nothing to do with X. 

Act 3. A argues that B is trying to change the topic from her doing X by introducing other irrelevant cases of X, when the issue is if B has done X and not whether someone else, even A herself, have also done X or anything similar. Since B cannot give us reasons to doubt that she has actually done X nor that X is a bad thing, she is trying to distract us from this point and thus derail the discussion.

Who, if anyone, is right and why? 

This simple question has proved very difficult to answer. 

The literature has focused on Act 2. There is widespread agreement that if, in Act 2, the evidence B gives for her claim that A does not actually care about X is not good, for example, if the case she brings up is of someone else in very different circumstances doing something not really that similar to X, then we will be more likely to conclude that she is indeed trying to derail the discussion and that A is right in Act 3 of pointing this out to her. Most of the literature on this sort of exchanges has focused on this meta-argument. It is a meta-argument because it is target is not whether B did X or not, but whether A’s arguing so is right or wrong in some larger sense. For example, if A is not honest about her intensions behind her argument, then hers might be what D. Pinsof calls a “pseudo-argument”, i.e., something that sounds like an argument but is not actually 

“…trying to change [anyone’s] minds. More often, we’re trying to posture, pontificate, trap them in “gotchas,” impugn their tribe, insult their intelligence, make them feel bad, silence them, punish them for speaking out against us, and defend our honor (or our tribe’s honor) in the eyes of onlookers. Since doing all this ugly stuff makes us look ugly, we pretend that what we’re really doing is trying to change their minds. You know, because we care about “truth” or “logic” or whatever." (Pinsof 2026)

But what if all the evidence and arguments that make this meta-argumentative case are fine? What if A has successfully shown that A did B, but B has also successfully shown that A does not seem to care about X? I have argued that, then, B is not wrong in Act 2 and that even if A has given us good evidence in Act 1 to accept that A did bad thing X, she is wrong in Act 3 at saying that B’s response is irrelevant and she has to actually come clean and at leats try to explain why she is bringing up A’s doing X or accept that she is not being honest about her true intensions. 

It has been argued that at least in very institutionalized environments – for example, in court or a hearing, or in a scientific discussion, that is in contexts of inquiry, deliberation, or information seeking dialogue – where the issue of whether B did X or not is all that matters, then A would be right in both Act 1 and Act 3, regardless of how well B argued or how good her evidence was at Act 2. 

I assume they think so because in these contexts, the beliefs or intensions of the arguers are not important (something already recognized at least as far back as Walton 1998). The aim of arguments in these contexts is not to overcome disagreement in the sense of trying to reach a common consensus, like a common belief or intension. Thus, the epistemic value of the argument is all that matters. In other words, borrowing a distinction from Castro (2021), in these arguments, the social component is minimal to non-existent, while the epistemic component is fundamental. Thus, the meta-argument in Act 2 is completely misguided. 

And here is where its meta-argumentative nature becomes key to the explanation as to why this is so. If the question is not whether B did X or not, but whether A is right in arguing for this – in other words, if the issue is A’s argument in Act 1 and not its conclusion, premises or validity – then it is essential to determine what makes B’s argument a good argument, besides its soundness, in its context. In ordinary contexts, when we are aiming to reach an agreement among the arguers, as I have argued, sincerity is fundamental and, therefore, meta-arguments like B’s in Act 2 are apt; in other purely epistemic contexts, they are not.