WHAT MAKES AN ARGUMENT CONSIDERABLE?

You don’t have to spend long on the internet to notice something: everyone is an expert.

On any subject you can imagine—how to brew better coffee, how geopolitics works, whether war is justified, or who has the right to defend a nation—you’ll find confident, polished opinions presented as fact. The real question isn’t whether arguments exist. It’s whether they deserve to be taken seriously.

So what actually makes an argument valid?

A good place to start is the opposite: understanding what makes an argument invalid.

That’s where a solid epistemological framework begins—by learning what should be filtered out before it even reaches serious consideration.

Take one of the most extreme examples: the claim that the Earth is flat. At first glance, it might seem harmless, even laughable. But when you examine the structure of the argument, it reveals patterns that show up in far more consequential debates.

Flat Earth arguments often rely on a sweeping distrust of established knowledge. They propose a hidden conspiracy controlled by vague “elites,” while positioning believers as uniquely enlightened. The narrative is seductive: everyone else is blind, but you’ve seen the truth.

And yet, the argument collapses almost immediately under scrutiny.

First, it isn’t verifiable.

It doesn’t present claims that can be meaningfully tested or independently confirmed. A reliable argument invites examination—it can be checked, replicated, and challenged using shared methods. When something cannot be tested in any practical way, it stops being knowledge and becomes belief.

Second, it’s unfalsifiable.

Any evidence that contradicts the claim is dismissed as part of the conspiracy. This creates a closed system where no possible observation could prove it wrong. But if nothing can disprove a claim, then the claim isn’t grounded in reality—it’s insulated from it. The burden of proof always lies with the person making the claim, not with others to disprove it. Otherwise, anyone could invent anything and demand belief.

Third, it relies on ad hoc reasoning.

Instead of following consistent logic, the argument constantly patches itself. When one flaw is exposed, a new assumption is introduced to protect the conclusion. This isn’t a search for truth—it’s a defense mechanism for a belief that cannot stand on its own.

Fourth, it lacks explanatory power.

Strong arguments explain more with less. They simplify reality without distorting it and make accurate predictions. Conspiracy-based thinking does the opposite—it multiplies assumptions while explaining very little. When a simpler, evidence-based explanation accounts for the same observations more effectively, the more complex one loses its footing.

Now, apply this framework to more serious and politically charged claims.

For example, some critics argue that Reza Pahlavi would become a tyrant if given power, comparing him to figures like Khamenei. At first, this may sound like a cautious or even reasonable concern—but does it actually hold up under scrutiny?

Start with intent.

Is he actively seeking authoritarian control? By his own repeated statements over decades, the answer is no. He has consistently emphasized a vision of a secular, democratic Iran—one where power is determined by the people, not imposed upon them.

Then consider falsifiability.

The claim is rooted in a hypothetical future. It cannot be tested, observed, or meaningfully evaluated in the present. While caution about future power is valid in principle, arguments based purely on speculation—without supporting patterns of behavior—don’t carry much analytical weight.

Next, look at whether the argument offers an alternative.

Criticism alone isn’t enough. A strong argument doesn’t just point out perceived risks; it presents viable solutions. Many opposing voices fail here—they reject one path without outlining a coherent or realistic replacement.

Finally, examine historical patterns.

Tyrants are not created in a vacuum. They typically emerge through a clear pursuit of unchecked power, often wrapped in ideological or religious absolutism that discourages opposition. Comparing every potential leader to history’s worst figures without matching those underlying conditions weakens the argument rather than strengthening it.

None of this means any individual should be beyond criticism. Quite the opposite. The point is that criticism itself must meet a standard—it must be grounded, testable, and logically consistent.

In a world overflowing with opinions, the ability to filter arguments is more valuable than the ability to produce them. Being analytical doesn’t mean rejecting everything—it means knowing what earns your consideration.

And that applies just as much to your own beliefs as it does to anyone else’s.

Written by Shayan Goodarzifar