Note & Excerpt - Love is a Fallacy

Love is a Fallacy (by Max Shulman) Extracts: ▶ Dicto Simpliciter Dicto Simpliciter means an argument based on an unqualified generalization. For example: Exercise is good. Therefore everybody should exercise.” “I agree,” said Polly earnestly. “I mean exercise is wonderful. I mean it builds the body and everything.” “Polly,” I said gently, “the argument is a fallacy. Exercise is good is an unqualified generalization. For instance, if you have heart disease, exercise is bad, not good. Many people are ordered by their doctors not to exercise. You must qualify the generalization. You must say exercise is usually good, or exercise is good for most people. Otherwise you have committed a Dicto Simpliciter. Do you see?” ▶ Hasty Generalization “It will be better if you stop tugging at my sleeve,” I told her, and when she desisted, I continued. “Next we take up a fallacy called Hasty Generalization. Listen carefully: You can’t speak French. Petey Bellows can’t speak French. I must therefore conclude that nobody at the University of Minnesota can speak French.” “Really?” said Polly, amazed. “Nobody?” I hid my exasperation. “Polly, it’s a fallacy. The generalization is reached too hastily. There are too few instances to support such a conclusion.” ▶ Post Hoc “Next comes Post Hoc. Listen to this: Let’s not take Bill on our picnic. Every time we take him out with us, it rains.” “I know somebody just like that,” she exclaimed. “A girl back home—Eula Becker, her name is. It never fails. Every single time we take her on a picnic—” “Polly,” I said sharply, “it’s a fallacy. Eula Becker doesn’t cause the rain. She has no connection with the rain. You are guilty of Post Hoc if you blame Eula Becker.” ▶ Contradictory Premises “Here’s an example of Contradictory Premises: If God can do anything, can He make a stone so heavy that He won’t be able to lift it?” “Of course,” she replied promptly. “But if He can do anything, He can lift the stone,” I pointed out. “Yeah,” she said thoughtfully. “Well, then I guess He can’t make the stone.” “But He can do anything,” I reminded her. She scratched her pretty, empty head. “I’m all confused,” she admitted. “Of course you are. Because when the premises of an argument contradict each other, there can be no argument. If there is an irresistible force, there can be no immovable object. If there is an immovable object, there can be no irresistible force. Get it?” ▶ Ad Misericordiam “Our first fallacy tonight is called Ad Misericordiam.” She quivered with delight. “Listen closely,” I said. “A man applies for a job. When the boss asks him what his qualifications are, he replies that he has a wife and six children at home, the wife is a helpless cripple, the children have nothing to eat, no clothes to wear, no shoes on their feet, there are no beds in the house, no coal in the cellar, and winter is coming.” A tear rolled down each of Polly’s pink cheeks. “Oh, this is awful, awful,” she sobbed. “Yes, it’s awful,” I agreed, “but it’s no argument. The man never answered the boss’s question about his qualifications. Instead he appealed to the boss’s sympathy. He committed the fallacy of Ad Misericordiam. Do you understand?” ▶ False Analogy “we will discuss False Analogy. Here is an example: Students should be allowed to look at their textbooks during examinations. After all, surgeons have X-rays to guide them during an operation, lawyers have briefs to guide them during a trial, carpenters have blueprints to guide them when they are building a house. Why, then, shouldn’t students be allowed to look at their textbooks during an examination?” “There now,” she said enthusiastically, “is the most marvy idea I’ve heard in years.” “Polly,” I said testily, “the argument is all wrong. Doctors, lawyers, and carpenters aren’t taking a test to see how much they have learned, but students are. The situations are altogether different, and you can’t make an analogy between them.” ▶ Hypothesis Contrary to Fact “Next we’ll try Hypothesis Contrary to Fact.” “Sounds yummy,” was Polly’s reaction. “Listen: If Madame Curie had not happened to leave a photographic plate in a drawer with a chunk of pitchblende, the world today would not know about radium.” “True, true,” said Polly, nodding her head “Did you see the movie? Oh, it just knocked me out. That Walter Pidgeon is so dreamy. I mean he fractures me.” “If you can forget Mr. Pidgeon for a moment,” I said coldly, “I would like to point out that statement is a fallacy. Maybe Madame Curie would have discovered radium at some later date. Maybe somebody else would have discovered it. Maybe any number of things would have happened. You can’t start with a hypothesis that is not true and then draw any supportable conclusions from it.” ▶ Poisoning the Well “The next fallacy is called Poisoning the Well.” “How cute!” she gurgled. “Two men are having a debate. The first one gets up and says, ‘My opponent is a notorious liar. You can’t believe a word that he is going to say.’ ... Now, Polly, think. Think hard. What’s wrong?” I watched her closely as she knit her creamy brow in concentration. Suddenly a glimmer of intelligence—the first I had seen—came into her eyes. “It’s not fair,” she said with indignation. “It’s not a bit fair. What chance has the second man got if the first man calls him a liar before he even begins talking?” “Right!” I cried exultantly. “One hundred per cent right. It’s not fair. The first man has poisoned the well before anybody could drink from it. He has hamstrung his opponent before he could even start ... Polly, I’m proud of you.”

[ HERE COMES THE REVERSAL ] “Polly,” I said when next we sat beneath our oak, “tonight we will not discuss fallacies.” “Aw, gee,” she said, disappointed. “My dear,” I said, favoring her with a smile, “we have now spent five evenings together. We have gotten along splendidly. It is clear that we are well matched.” “Hasty Generalization,” said Polly brightly. “I beg your pardon,” said I. “Hasty Generalization,” she repeated. “How can you say that we are well matched on the basis of only five dates?” I chuckled with amusement. The dear child had learned her lessons well. “My dear,” I said, patting her hand in a tolerant manner, “five dates is plenty. After all, you don’t have to eat a whole cake to know that it’s good.” “False Analogy,” said Polly promptly. “I’m not a cake. I’m a girl.” I chuckled with somewhat less amusement. The dear child had learned her lessons perhaps too well. I decided to change tactics. Obviously the best approach was a simple, strong, direct declaration of love. I paused for a moment while my massive brain chose the proper word. Then I began: “Polly, I love you. You are the whole world to me, the moon and the stars and the constellations of outer space. Please, my darling, say that you will go steady with me, for if you will not, life will be meaningless. I will languish. I will refuse my meals. I will wander the face of the earth, a shambling, hollow-eyed hulk.” There, I thought, folding my arms, that ought to do it. “Ad Misericordiam,” said Polly. I ground my teeth. I was not Pygmalion; I was Frankenstein, and my monster had me by the throat. Frantically I fought back the tide of panic surging through me; at all costs I had to keep cool. “Well, Polly,” I said, forcing a smile, “you certainly have learned your fallacies.” “You’re darn right,” she said with a vigorous nod. “And who taught them to you, Polly?” “You did.” “That’s right. So you do owe me something, don’t you, my dear? If I hadn’t come along you never would have learned about fallacies.” “Hypothesis Contrary to Fact,” she said instantly. I dashed perspiration from my brow. “Polly,” I croaked, “you mustn’t take all these things so literally. I mean this is just classroom stuff. You know that the things you learn in school don’t have anything to do with life.” “Dicto Simpliciter,” she said, wagging her finger at me playfully. That did it. I leaped to my feet, bellowing like a bull. “Will you or will you not go steady with me?” “I will not,” she replied. “Why not?” I demanded. “Because this afternoon I promised Petey Bellows that I would go steady with him.” I reeled back, overcome with the infamy of it. After he promised, after he made a deal, after he shook my hand! “The rat!” I shrieked, kicking up great chunks of turf. “You can’t go with him, Polly. He’s a liar. He’s a cheat. He’s a rat.” “Poisoning the Well ,” said Polly, “and stop shouting. I think shouting must be a fallacy too.”