The special pleading fallacy is a logical error in which someone applies a different standard to a specific case without justifying why that case should be treated differently. It normally occurs when someone attempts to make an exception for his behavior.
For instance, let’s say a student argued, “I know I didn’t turn in my essay on time, but you should still give me full credit. Yes, I understand your policy is to deduct points for late work, but my situation is different because I had a really busy week.” This person is attempting to make an exception to a general rule without justification and would be committing a special pleading fallacy.
This fallacious argument is relevant in topics relating to the biblical canon. The biblical canon is something that every Christian must account for. In order to avoid the special pleading fallacy, any standards that Christians set to determine what books should be allowed in the Bible need to be consistent. A Protestant’s standards for what constitutes Scripture need to allow for exactly sixty-six books. If those standards allow for sixty-five or even sixty-seven books, they need to be modified. However, it seems impossible to create a consistent standard.
For example, Protestants generally give three criteria for determining canonicity. According to John MacArthur and Richard Mayhue in their book on biblical doctrine, these criteria are
- written by an apostle or prophet, or someone associated with one;
- no contradictions with previous Scripture; and
- accepted by a consensus of the church.
These standards, however, are inconsistent. Starting off with 2), we must first address the issue of canonicity before considering potential errors. The proper order is to establish a book as Scripture, and only then should we attempt to reconcile apparent errors or contradictions. It’s crucial to understand that Scripture is not deemed Scripture because it is error-free; rather, it is error-free because it is Scripture. We must not confuse this order of reasoning.
The third criterion likewise contains an inconsistency, and this argument is one that many other Protestants make as well. For instance, James White, in his book on sola scriptura, argued this:
Likewise, pointing to canonical disagreements does not mean God has not accomplished his will in leading his people to a sufficient knowledge of canon. Indeed, with reference to the New Testament, there is hardly any meaningful disagreement to be noted (p. 120).
In the footnote, he says,
Obviously, many disagree with this statement, pointing to isolated statements all over the historical record as evidence. But it is precisely the scattered nature of these statements, and the fact that they never reflect a consensus of believers over any period of time or great distance, that substantiates my claim.
White is attempting to argue that God led his people to sufficient knowledge of the canon. He then argues that even though some may disagree, these disagreements never reflect a consensus, which is a good reason to believe that God inspired those books.
However, if Protestants like White want to take seriously the consensus of the church, they have to accept the deuterocanonical books. As Protestant scholar J.N.D. Kelly notes, for the great majority of early Church Fathers, the Deuterocanon ranked as Scripture in the fullest sense (p. 55).
All that’s left is 1) “written by an apostle or prophet, or someone associated with one.” However, one important issue is missing. How do we know that the apostles wrote the New Testament? How do we know that Matthew wrote his Gospel and that it was not written by an anonymous source, as some scholars have suggested (p. 175)? Generally, Protestants will appeal to the traditions and consensus of the Church.
Therefore, 2) is an invalid order, and 1) and 3) become consensus questions. If a Protestant wants to accept things like the four Gospels because of this consensus, while also rejecting the Deuterocanon, which also has consensus, he commits the special pleading fallacy. The Protestant would need to either accept both or reject both, as accepting one without the other would be special pleading.
Further, this inconsistency undermines attempts to reject certain doctrines that also have a great consensus, like baptismal regeneration (p. 95), solely on biblical grounds. If we acknowledge that our understanding of what constitutes the Bible relies on early Church consensus, it becomes problematic to dismiss other widespread early Church beliefs by attempting to interpret the biblical text.
Other Protestants try giving other standards. For example, Michael Kruger, a scholar who has written extensively on the canon, made a different, but still fallacious, argument in a speech in 2022. He said,
What do we mean by self-authenticating? What it means is the real way you know that God’s word is God’s word is because God demonstrates the validity of his word through his word. In other words, the word bears God’s own divine attributes and qualities. . . . I know the Bible is the word of God from the word of God. It exhibits God’s own qualities and characteristics. . . .
So what are the characteristics that mark God’s word as God’s word? . . . One of those characteristics is the amazing unity and harmony of these books, how they all fit together so remarkably.
Kruger goes on to talk about how another way we can tell is that because the Bible “does something” to the reader, it must be from God. Protestants John MacArthur and Richard Mayhue make a similar argument, where they argue that the Bible is the word of God because it has a practical or emotional effect on individual lives (p. 103).
The problem is that these arguments suffer from circular reasoning and don’t actually prove anything. A Mormon or a Muslim could make the same claim about his holy book. Both of them could say their books have unity and harmony and do something to the reader.
The assertion that the Bible inherently displays God’s qualities and characteristics also faces challenges when considering books like the Protestant version of Esther, which notably lacks any direct mention of God. It’s difficult to reconcile how a text can embody divine attributes without explicitly referencing the deity. It should likewise be noted that a Christian who holds to a sixty-five-book canon with every book except Esther would also be able to make Kruger’s argument. These standards just cannot get us to a consistent sixty-six-book canon, no more and no less.
There seem to be two options for Protestants with regard to their canon, both involving fallacious arguments.
- Have inconsistent standards that would include books like the Deuterocanon (special pleading).
- Assume their canon is correct, then fit standards around it (begging the question).
In conclusion, the Protestant approach to establishing the biblical canon faces significant logical challenges. The criteria used to determine canonicity often lead to inconsistencies when applied rigorously, resulting in either special pleading or circular reasoning. The reliance on Church tradition and consensus for certain aspects of canonicity while rejecting these for others creates a problematic double standard. Furthermore, arguments based on the Bible’s internal qualities or its effect on readers fail to provide a unique justification for the specific Protestant canon.