Kilmar Abrego Garcia, Oat Bran, and the Aristotelian Example
Arguing from example has benefits and problems, as we will see with the example of Kilmar Abrego Garcia.
I am going to discuss the rhetoric of using Kilmar Abrego Garcia as an example of the Trump administration’s violation of due process, but, first, I need to discuss oat bran.
In 1987, the Reagan administration launched the “Know Your Cholesterol Campaign.” A series of press conferences announced the campaign, which promoted the importance of adding soluble fiber to your diet to reduce cholesterol.
The concept of “soluble fiber” is difficult to process. Reporters wanted an example. They were told “oat bran.”
Then, the same basic headline ran in many newspapers: “Oat Bran Reduces Cholesterol.” In 1989, sales of the Quaker Oats products rose from 1 million pounds annually to 20 million pounds.
Even though there are hundreds of sources of soluble fiber, many that are arguably healthier than oat bran, the American public fixed its attention on all forms of oats.
It is easy to understand the example that oat bran can reduce your cholesterol. It is difficult to understand the concept that soluble fiber reduces your cholesterol. We naturally simplify concepts by focusing on a single, concrete example.
On March 15, 2025, the Trump administration deported Kilmar Abrego Garcia and others to CECOT, a nasty prison in El Salvador. He was deported without due process. Even government lawyers admitted in court that including him with a group of members of the MS-13 gang was a mistake. Abrego Garcia is a legal resident, married to an American citizen, and without a criminal record. He is not a member of MS-13, although some members of the Trump administration have disputed this, without providing evidence to support their claim.
The concept and importance of due process is as difficult to understand as soluble fiber. The American public needed an example to understand why due process is important.
Kilmar Abrego Garcia soon became that example.
The example, as a rhetorical strategy, is effective because it carries emotional force. It is easy to build a narrative around an example. A story, if told well, can generate empathy. Those who argue for “due process” can show photos of Abrego Garcia with his wife and discuss how he is a good father to his special needs child.
An example, to be effective, should be paradigmatic; it should represent some larger group or a concept. This is conveyed more clearly by the Greek word that Aristotle used to discuss the example: paradigma. The example is a paradigm for something else. It is a form of metaphor.
A metaphor is most effective when it presents a quick insight. For example, if I were arguing against the United States launching a war against Iraq, I might say, “It will be another Vietnam.” In other words, it will be a long, protracted war that the United States will eventually lose. The quick insight can be very effective—in the short term.
For a metaphor to work, it needs clarity. The two things being compared need to fit.
The more a metaphor is discussed, the more fuzzy the comparison becomes. It soon ceases to be effective. If we continue the Iraq/Vietnam metaphor, we will realize that Vietnam was a jungle war; Iraq will be a desert war.
No example, no metaphor, no comparison aligns perfectly. Details destroy metaphor.
The even greater problem with the example is that, as discussion progresses, we tend to focus more completely on the example, rather than the paradigm. The greater point can be lost.
It is easy to counter the example of Abrego Garcia by suggesting, even without evidence, that he actually is a member of MS-13, that he abused his wife, or that he doesn’t go to church on Sunday. It is even easier to argue that the other people deported with Abrego Garcia are not at all like him. That they got what they deserved. That Abrego Garcia is just an outlier, a random mistake, and is not that important.
It is damn hard to argue that, even if the others deported with Abrego Garcia are indeed members of MS-13, even if they are horrible and dangerous people, they still deserve due process. But we have to defend their rights. It is the only way to defend our rights.
For an example to remain effective, it should be supported with other evidence, such as statistics, additional examples, history, testimony, etc.
Most importantly, the example needs to be framed. The frame needs to be conveyed in a simple phrase and repeated over and over.
Senator Chris Van Hollen of Maryland, who visited El Salvador to speak with Abrego Garcia, has done this more effectively than anyone else. He keeps saying, “It is always the right thing to defend the constitution.” He keeps saying, “If one of us is denied due process, we can all be denied due process.” He is constantly connecting the example to all of us.
I wish that Senator Van Hollen would add one addition point to his frame. It’s a more complex point, so it is harder to convey in a simple phrase. This is my best attempt: “If the government identifies gang members, the enemy, by tattoos or a baseball cap, then we are all in danger.” Maybe, in the comments, someone can help me to find a way to make this point more effectively.
This point, I believe, is crucial. Too many Americans believe that it is okay to suspend due process for some other group of people because those people can be clearly identified as the enemy. They fail to realize that a government that is willing to operate outside the law, to ignore due process, can label any of us as the enemy. They can invent the mark of the enemy. And they will. At this point, all of us lose our rights.
It will be hard, but we need to fight any attempt to identify the enemy or the outsider or the people who are not “real” Americans—without due process.
When we have some historical distance, we are able to recognize the flaws of this kind of thinking. We now recognize that phrenology, the identification of criminals by examining the bumps on their heads, was an absurd pseudoscience. We need to be better at recognizing the pseudoscience—the sheer stupidity—behind current attempts to find simple markers of otherness.
Our worst instinct as human beings is that we want to mark people we don’t know as friend or enemy. From an evolutionary perspective, this instinct may have served us, but it can also bring out the worst in us. To continue our evolution, we need to learn to monitor and moderate this instinct. If we don’t, it will likely destroy us.
Today, the enemy, some other person, some stranger in a distant city, might be identified as the enemy by a particular kind of tattoo. Tomorrow, we might be identified as the enemy by the books we read, the company we keep, or even a moment of kindness to the wrong kind of person.
The only people we should be worried about are those who are convinced that they can sort the good people (the “we”) from the bad people (the “they”) with a clear boundary. We need to help them blur that binary. We need to make their reality a little more messy.