The author likens a common foreign-policy dodge to ancient Gnosticism: claiming secret knowledge that outweighs public facts. “I don’t know, but leaders have classified intel, so their policy is probably right” treats unknown evidence as if it already proved the government’s case.

That “black box” (classified files, deliberations) is used as a stand-in for an argument. Possible extra facts are not proof of what those facts say; the box can swallow every counterpoint and become unfalsifiable.

Tied to what he calls a “statist non sequitur”: a problem does not automatically require state force. Combined with secret-intel trust, it flips a presumption of peace into a presumption of war and insulates coercion from criticism.

Very early in the history of Christianity, within the first and second centuries, there arose one of the greatest philosophical-theological challenges to early Christianity in the form of proto-Gnosticism or Gnosticism. Evidence of Christianity’s interaction with proto-Gnosticism can be seen in the New Testament itself (e.g., Colossians, 1 John, etc.) and also in the ante-Nicene Fathers.

The main concern in the New Testament and in early Church history was that Gnosticism—a worldview fundamentally at odds with Biblical religion and historic Christianity—was popular and being confounded with Christianity. Gnostics adopted Christian terminology—like “Jesus”—into their system, but fundamentally changed their content. But, if the contradiction was so obvious, why were they even limitedly successful in attracting followers?

At least part of the answer is because they argued that they had privileged, secret knowledge (gnosis; γνῶσις) that was inaccessible to others but which provided a higher, truer knowledge than what existed. That knowledge was to act as an interpretive grid regarding and superseding other evidence (i.e., eyewitnesses, scriptures, extant evidence, etc.).

In order to do this they would often appeal to private visions (cf. Colossians 2:18) or an esoteric secret tradition that was allegedly given by Jesus and/or His apostles but for which there is no extant evidence. Thus, “Having denied the historical basis of the gospel, the Gnostics seek to reinterpret it in alien terms with the aid of a spurious tradition.” Similar argumentation is recorded in a dispute between Jesus and the scribes and Pharisees over rabbinic traditions that were supposedly traced back to Moses (Matthew 15:1-9; Mark 7:1-13; cf. Exodus 24:4 cp. Joshua 8:35).

A fallacious claim could be made—and has been many times since—that because we do not possess an exhaustive account of everything Jesus said and did, which is true (John 20:30; John 21:25), it means someone can claim positive evidence concerning Jesus, even contrary to existing evidence. Whether one believes in Jesus or not, the fallacious nature of the argumentation ought to be obvious.

What is the point, and what in the world does this have to do with US foreign policy?

Foreign Policy Gnosticism

The lesson is that there is a burden of proof on those who assert the existence of inaccessible evidence that also supposedly establishes their argument, particularly when their claim contradicts publicly-available evidence. In effect, the argument is that, since there is a possibility of additional confirming evidence of which we are unaware, that alleged evidence must support one’s conclusion. However, the mere possibility that additional evidence likely exists tells us nothing about what that evidence says. To infer that the unknown evidence supports one’s conclusion simply because it is unknown is to beg the question—to assume the very proposition that one is attempting to establish. Unknown information certainly exists, but the mere existence of unknown information cannot serve as evidence for either side and cannot be assigned whatever content is necessary to rescue one’s conclusion.

While this fallacy might be observed in many contexts, it seems to be particularly prevalent in debates over foreign policy, whether concerning present or past events. If one demonstrates a superior command of the existing facts in a foreign policy debate, the opponent will often make what—by itself—would be an altogether fair retreat: “I don’t know.” “I don’t........

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