Iocane and Incredulity

The Argument from Incredulity (AFI):

I cannot explain or understand this, therefore it cannot be true.

The AFI is a reactive fallacy, an irrational form of rebuttal to opposing ideas. Arguing from Incredulity takes arrogance, gerrymandering the borders of possibility to suit an incumbent imagination. If it cannot fit my brain, it cannot fit the world, either--a solipsistic thought at best. A special kind of character fancies his brain larger than the world. That character is Vizzini from The Princess Bride.

Vizzini: "He didn't fall?" Inconceivable!"

Inigo: "You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means."

Inigo wisely sticks to semantics in his response. Inigo dabbles a bit in wordplay, and knows better than to question Vizzini's overall strategy because, well, Vizzini is never wrong.

Genius though Vizzini may be ("Ever heard of Plato? Aristotle? Socrates? Morons."), his hubris and his intolerance for "inconceivable" outcomes brings him down. It is inconceivable that Westley would scale the Cliffs of Insanity by releasing the severed rope in time and jamming his fists into the cliff face, but Westley does. (Not sure I believe that one either, but eh.) Vizzini never guesses that a pirate might be hip to Inigo's "left handed" swordsman rhuse, or that Fezzik will allow himself to lose at hand-to-hand combat rather than to engage in unsportsmanlike behavior. 

This brings us to the picnic scene. Before Vizzini accepts Westley's challenge to a "battle of wits," he holds at least a 50% advantage with a knife to Buttercup's throat. He could stall long enough for his employer, Prince Humperdinck, to show up, but Vizzini knows himself for the world's greatest strategist, so if a battle of wits presents itself, why hesitate? The hapless Sicilian dies laughing, unconvinced even in death of his ability to err.

Why is it so difficult to allow for certain outcomes? Experience builds an expectation of the typical: "some local fisherman, out for a pleasure cruise through eel-infested waters" rather than the Man in Black. The Princess Bride deals mostly with exceptional people -- the world's best fencers and fighters, most beautiful women, best huntsmen, etc. It is a fairy tale, but not an unusually fantastic one. Vizzini is the only one of the three kidnappers whose backstory goes untold in William Goldman's book, but I get the feeling that he sees the world as less of a fairy tale and more like a military history, or maybe in something by Machiavelli. He knows which way the wind blows in his world, and judging by his past success, he's usually right. But not always.

In my illustration, the islander also understands the direction the wind is blowing his kite, so the ship bothers him. How dare it follow a contradictory wind!? I have tried to keep the waves impartial on the subject. The islander takes the snail beneath his feet for solid ground. He does not understand that the snail actually moves forward, keeping his kite afloat with its motion like a parasailer. Perhaps the islander will ignore the ship, taking it for hallucination, because it doesn't follow the rules of his "island." And if you try to explain the situation, he will scoff, "Snails of Unusual Size? I don't think they exist." 


Of course, incredulity is usually a healthy sign of skepticism, as long as that doubt leads to careful observation. William Goldman, author of The Princess Bride, is famous for testing his readers' credulity with fictional introductions and editorial inserts. I believed the real fairy tale of The Princess Bride -- that it is the "good parts" version of Morganstern's lengthier classic, rather than an original -- well into my college years. Goldman's westerns, including Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, and Maverick, are populated with tricksters as well. In the worlds he creates, incredulity is a survival skill. Around his characters, you can't just yell, "inconceivable," then go have a picnic, or iocane might find its way into your wine.