I discussed with her three fallacies; Hasty General-ization, Post Hoc. ,
Contradictory Premises. She rarely understood anything. But still she
liked it. So we decided to made another session next night.
Contradictory Premises. She rarely understood anything. But still she
liked it. So we decided to made another session next night.
I deposited her at the girls' dormitory, where she assured me that she had had perfectly teriff evening, and I went glumly home to my room. Petey lay snoring in his bed, the raccoon coat huddled like a great hairy beast at his feet. For a moment I considered waking him and telling him that he could have his girl back. It seemed clear that my project was doomed to failure. The girl simply had logic-proof head.
But then I reconsidered. I had wasted one evening; I might as well waste another. Who knew? May be somewhere in the extinct crater of her mind, a few embers still smoldered. May be somehow I could fan them into flame. Admittedly it was not a prospect fraught with hope, but I decided to give it one more try.
Seated under the oak the next evening I said, "Our first fallacy tonight is called Ad Misericordiam."
She quivered with delight.
"Listen closely," I said. "A man applies for a job. When 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?"
"Have you got a handkerchief?" she blubbered.
I handed her a handkerchief and tried to keep from screaming while she wiped her eyes. "Next," I said in a carefully controlled tone, "we will discuss False Analogy. Here is an example: Students should be allowed to look at their textbook during examinations. After all, surgeon 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 textbook 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 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."
"I still think it's a good idea," said Polly.
"Nuts." I muttered.
(to be continue…)
Max Schulman