Ad hominem is one of the better-known fallacies, perhaps because it is so common. In Latin, it means: "to the man." In American, it translates fuzzily to: "Oh yeah? Well, you're ugly."
Broken down, the ad hominem argument looks like this:
Person 1 makes claim X
There is something objectionable about Person 1 (maybe ugliness)
Therefore claim X is false
Ad hominem is one of the many red-herring arguments, fallacious when it diverts attention from the core argument to focus on some flaw about the arguer.
In creating my illustration, I needed a distracting character, and what character is more distracting than one of those bellowing circus-game people with the rings, bottles, and inflatable dolphin prizes?
I quickly realized my vocabulary lacked a word for a purveyor of state-fair gamery, other than the generic "carney." Perhaps this is because I have never played a circus game, due to my lack of coordination and my dominant interest in spending my tickets on gut-flipping rides. I didn't even know what sort of object is typically thrown in most games, aside from rings. I took pity on the game vendor and drew a sort of child-safe beanbag. Research was obviously in order. After a few entreaties to my internet oracle, I hit upon a bevy of circus lingo. Thanks to this tawdry, peanut-scented lexicon, I know that my illustrated hominem is called an "agent," or a "jointee." See below.
Agent — The one who works a game, especially a game that requires some skill and finesse to sell to the marks, and most especially a rigged game. Sometimes the owner, sometimes an employee working on percentage. Many carnies feel that the name 'agent' implies dishonesty.
From the sound of it, not even carnival workers relish the agent status. The agent's career rests on his ability to persuade, to cajole passing "marks" to throw darts or basketballs or dimes at a target. The agent makes one simple argument: you should throw things at these snails because it is fun, and because it is possible to win a prize. So what has my agent done to provoke his customer's wrath, distracting from the argument of the game? What hand hurls these child-safe objects, and why? I imagine three possible scenarios based on the three different forms of ad hominem.
1. ad hominem abusive - rejection of a claim based on general disapproval of arguer's character
Customer A spends too much time watching cinema wherein villains wear black mustaches and crooked swords. As a result, Customer A believes in an inverse correlation between virtue and facial hair. He spends his token, but scorns the game based on the vendor's mustache, which he views as an badge of rascality. The customer aims his tosses at the offensive cookie duster, hoping to knock it off in an act of moral reform.
2. ad hominem circumstantial - rejection of claim because the source is biased
Customer B realizes that he won't be able to knock down a snail and win the second cauliflower on the right, which his girlfriend has been eyeing all evening. He concludes that the vendor has "joed", or rigged, his snails upright in order to reduce his cauliflower overhead.
3. tu quoque -- literally "you too;" a claim that one's opponent is a hypocrite, so the opposing argument must be false
A moment earlier, a near-sighted agent notices Customer C, a midget with a taco salad. Mistaking Customer C for a child with a catcher's mitt, the agent playfully tossed beanbags at him. Customer C takes the agent's actions as confirmation of his own suspicions that aiming at people is much more fun than aiming at snails. Later, as the security carries Customer C away, he will cries "You did it too! You owe me a taco salad!"
***********************************
It's entirely possible that the agent is a hypocrite and prefers throwing things at people rather than snails. The agent may also be greedy and dishonest, or perhaps his mustache curls with pure malice. However, none of these proves that it is impossible to have fun or win a prize by pitching things at a snail. All are merely distractions from the game at hand.
In other games and arguments, faults in the agent's character may be more pertinent. If the agent touts his skills as a manny or wants to cohabit your 200-square-foot apartment, ad hominem can constitute a sound argument structure. You may then pelt the agent with beanbags all you like. This will either bring out the agent's true and relevant nature, or thoroughly prepare him for afternoons with your toddler.
This week's fallacy deals with insults. If you admire the art of insulting, fallacies be darned, then I recommend you consult the master.
Broken down, the ad hominem argument looks like this:
Person 1 makes claim X
There is something objectionable about Person 1 (maybe ugliness)
Therefore claim X is false
Ad hominem is one of the many red-herring arguments, fallacious when it diverts attention from the core argument to focus on some flaw about the arguer.
In creating my illustration, I needed a distracting character, and what character is more distracting than one of those bellowing circus-game people with the rings, bottles, and inflatable dolphin prizes?
I quickly realized my vocabulary lacked a word for a purveyor of state-fair gamery, other than the generic "carney." Perhaps this is because I have never played a circus game, due to my lack of coordination and my dominant interest in spending my tickets on gut-flipping rides. I didn't even know what sort of object is typically thrown in most games, aside from rings. I took pity on the game vendor and drew a sort of child-safe beanbag. Research was obviously in order. After a few entreaties to my internet oracle, I hit upon a bevy of circus lingo. Thanks to this tawdry, peanut-scented lexicon, I know that my illustrated hominem is called an "agent," or a "jointee." See below.
Agent — The one who works a game, especially a game that requires some skill and finesse to sell to the marks, and most especially a rigged game. Sometimes the owner, sometimes an employee working on percentage. Many carnies feel that the name 'agent' implies dishonesty.
From the sound of it, not even carnival workers relish the agent status. The agent's career rests on his ability to persuade, to cajole passing "marks" to throw darts or basketballs or dimes at a target. The agent makes one simple argument: you should throw things at these snails because it is fun, and because it is possible to win a prize. So what has my agent done to provoke his customer's wrath, distracting from the argument of the game? What hand hurls these child-safe objects, and why? I imagine three possible scenarios based on the three different forms of ad hominem.
1. ad hominem abusive - rejection of a claim based on general disapproval of arguer's character
Customer A spends too much time watching cinema wherein villains wear black mustaches and crooked swords. As a result, Customer A believes in an inverse correlation between virtue and facial hair. He spends his token, but scorns the game based on the vendor's mustache, which he views as an badge of rascality. The customer aims his tosses at the offensive cookie duster, hoping to knock it off in an act of moral reform.
2. ad hominem circumstantial - rejection of claim because the source is biased
Customer B realizes that he won't be able to knock down a snail and win the second cauliflower on the right, which his girlfriend has been eyeing all evening. He concludes that the vendor has "joed", or rigged, his snails upright in order to reduce his cauliflower overhead.
3. tu quoque -- literally "you too;" a claim that one's opponent is a hypocrite, so the opposing argument must be false
A moment earlier, a near-sighted agent notices Customer C, a midget with a taco salad. Mistaking Customer C for a child with a catcher's mitt, the agent playfully tossed beanbags at him. Customer C takes the agent's actions as confirmation of his own suspicions that aiming at people is much more fun than aiming at snails. Later, as the security carries Customer C away, he will cries "You did it too! You owe me a taco salad!"
***********************************
It's entirely possible that the agent is a hypocrite and prefers throwing things at people rather than snails. The agent may also be greedy and dishonest, or perhaps his mustache curls with pure malice. However, none of these proves that it is impossible to have fun or win a prize by pitching things at a snail. All are merely distractions from the game at hand.
In other games and arguments, faults in the agent's character may be more pertinent. If the agent touts his skills as a manny or wants to cohabit your 200-square-foot apartment, ad hominem can constitute a sound argument structure. You may then pelt the agent with beanbags all you like. This will either bring out the agent's true and relevant nature, or thoroughly prepare him for afternoons with your toddler.
This week's fallacy deals with insults. If you admire the art of insulting, fallacies be darned, then I recommend you consult the master.
Thanks for your comment — I really enjoy finding ways to combine type and image. I like the fact you’ve used a limited colour range for this one and still achieved depth. I wonder what would happen, though, if you swapped around the stick and the character. That way, the audience might read the title, follow the top of the stick down and rest their eye on the character. You’d be using the stick as an ‘arrow’ to point from the title to the character. If it’s a vector image, I’d give it a go.
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