Say "Can't" With Care
Suppose a student fails a math test. Casual observers will often announce, “He can’t do the math.”
Or suppose a country has a horrible corruption problem. Casual observers will often announce, “The government can’t solve this corruption problem.”
In each case, I detect a casual logical fallacy.
Namely: If person X actually does Y, we can legitimately infer, “X can do Y.” But if person X does not do Y, you cannot legitimately infer that they can’t. Maybe they don’t do Y because they can’t do Y. Maybe they don’t do Y because they choose not to do Y.
What’s the real story? Figuring that out requires further investigation. Before you declare that, “X can’t do Y,” start with this simple checklist:
Step 1: See if the actor in question even tried to do Y.
Step 2: If the actor tried, examine how hard he tried.
Step 3: Look at how successful comparably-able actors are when they try their very hardest.
Thus, before you say that a kid who fails a math test “can’t” do it, you should examine (a) whether he even tried to pass, (b) if so, how hard he tried, and (c) the pass rate for comparable students who try their very hardest.
Similarly, before you say that a country “can’t” solve its corruption problem, you should examine (a) whether the country even tried to do so, (b) if so, how hard it tried, and (c) the success rate for comparable countries that try their very hardest.
You could respond, “Running such an investigation sounds awfully difficult. How do we know whether someone tried? How hard they tried? How do we find comparable actors? How do we know whether the comparable actors ‘tried their very hardest?'”
I fully agree. Knowing what someone can’t do tends to be hard. Which is precisely why you should make such claims with care.
The most egregious misuses of “can’t,” however, come when even token efforts reliably produce success. When someone says, “He can’t stop drinking,” or “He can’t stop cheating,” common sense revolts. Maybe you aren’t smart enough to pass a math test. But what skill does it take not to consume a beverage? To abstain from sex? Just don’t do it – and it is done.
The post appeared first on Econlib.
As someone who has struggled with alcohol addiction, I have to say that I think there isn’t always a bright line between can and can’t. My best analogy is to confession under torture. How should we judge someone’s claim that, “I couldn’t bear the torture any longer, so I confessed.” It seems like Bryan would have to say that this is false. What does it take to not confess? Just don’t open your mouth to speak and it’s done. Obviously, it’s reasonable in common parlance to say “can’t” when what one literally means is that the costs of doing something are so overwhelming that they choose not to do it. This is the experience of many people who struggle with addiction. It is obvious that we possess the physical capability to not consume a beverage. But the psychic costs of resisting a drink can often be so overwhelming that statements like “I couldn’t resist” feel justified (though of course they are literally false). I do think certain people who have never struggled with an addiction have a psychological blind spot when it comes to correctly assessing addicts’ actions and statements. For those who have never had the experience of addiction, a helpful empathy exercise can be to imagine how you would feel if you tried to resist eating any food or keep yourself in solitary confinement for a long period of time. The anguish you would feel along with the practically irresistible urge to break your fast or solitude is very similar to what many alcoholics feel when they try to stop drinking. That’s why many addicts describe their experiences attempting to get sober as hellish. They are not exaggerating. Hence, simplistic admonitions like, “just don’t drink alcohol,” are worse than useless. To know what it feels like to hear that as an alcoholic just imagine someone telling you “just never see or talk to another human again.” It’s not impossible, but it is a brutally painful way to live and some may legitimately prefer death.
I once had a student who failed basic finance three times with three different professors. Then she took my section, reputed to be the hardest, and got one of the top grades. How? By doing the required work as I laid out. How do I know? Because I monitored her. As they say in the military, the troops do what the sergeant inspects.