Chapter 3: Facts, Inferences, Judgments
FATTO SCIENZA WAS TERRALOGICA’S RECORD-KEEPER. Like everyone who wasn’t a potter, he lived in the neighboring village of Alleata, where people had every type of job you could imagine.
Mayor M. had requested his attendance at the third meeting of the Logician’s Council to provide important contextual information that would convince the citizens of Terralogica to participate in the bowl-distribution campaign, which had been named Operation Better Bowl.
“I thought we might include some more detailed information when we announce the operation,” Mayor M. told the council. “To increase our ethos. Is that correct, Penso?”
“Ethos is right.” Penso smiled and nodded. “Adding information would definitely support your credibility.”
Fatto pulled out a large chart from behind the speaker’s podium.
“Thank you, Mayor M.” Fatto had a gray ring of hair around a bald spot at the top of his head and a gray mustache that looked like the wire brush Donalta used to clean the family kiln. His voice was a little shaky, like it made him nervous to speak in front of people. “I appreciate the chance to add some insight to your project. This graph shows the number of Fondis that Terralogica makes each month from selling pottery.”
He took a piece of chalk from the slate board and used it to point to a red line in the middle of the graph. For most of the graph, the line traveled in a gentle wave: up a bit, then down a bit, then back up again.
“The higher months are the summers, when more tourists come,” Fatto said. “The lower months are during winter, when Terralogica has fewer tourists.”
Fatto pointed at the far right of the chart.
“Here’s what’s concerning. Notice that the last few years, the high points of the wave have been getting slightly lower each time.”
The councilmembers studied the chart. Fatto was correct; the crest of each wave was growing slightly lower, and the bases of each wave were a bit lower as well.
Fatto removed the chart to reveal a second chart behind it.
“If we analyze this same data by year instead of by month, we see the problem.”
The new chart had a green line instead of a red one. The green line traveled horizontally across the chart until it neared the right side. Then it began to dip.
Fatto pointed to the place where the line’s descent began.
“This is the year that Nemico’s pottery was first spotted in Scontro’s shop. Since then, there has been a subtle decline in sales each year. Shops may not have detected it, because the dip was small. But what is troubling from a mathematical perspective is that the amount of the drop has increased each year. The first year, it was a two percent drop from the previous year. The next year, the drop was four percent. And the year after that, the drop was six percent.”
“It is possible that some other factor could have contributed to this drop. But my staff and I examined other potential causes, and we could not find any. Tourists have not faced a difficulty reaching Terralogica. The numbers of tourists have stayed the same; they are simply buying less. Some further research suggests that tourists come to Terralogica to choose signatures that they enjoy, and then purchase pottery with those signatures from Nemico rather than from Terralogica.”
Several gasps echoed around the room. Mayor M. frowned and nodded.
“Since the time records have been kept,” Fatto said, “there has only been one similar drop in Terralogica’s sales. That was during the war with Gemella, but there is no war now. Our studies lead us to conclude that Nemico is the most likely cause for the drop. And furthermore, if no action is taken, it seems likely that sales will continue to decrease at an escalating rate. If this trend continues, in five more years, Terralogica’s sales will be less than half of what they were before Nemico arrived.”
There was another set of gasps, plus a low, angry grunting noise from Scontro.
“That will be catastrophic!” Ana said. “Everyone will become poor at once, and no one will be able to contribute to the village fund!”
The village fund was how the families of Terralogica survived during times of crisis. Every family contributed ten percent of their sales during regular times. If a family faced a hardship, such as a death or illness, they could take Fondis from the fund to purchase food and supplies from the markets in Alleata. After the war with Gemella, families who had not faced losses contributed extra to support families such as Ana’s and Mayor M.’s. Grandma Lucy’s wheelchair had been purchased from Alleata using the village fund, as were most wheelchairs, canes, and devices for getting around. But if everyone’s sales were hurt by Nemico, no one would be able to help those in need.
“It is very concerning information,” Mayor M. said. “I think we should include it in the Newspost announcing Operation Better Bowl. It will help persuade people to participate.”
“Don’t persuade, just command!” Ana scoffed. “You’re the mayor! Any decent citizen of Terralogica should do their part to help us avoid the destruction of our village.”
“People hate being ordered around,” Cugina said.
“They sure do,” Scontro said. “Persuading is better.”
“If you want to be persuasive—” Penso picked up his chalk. “I have a suggestion. I think it would be helpful to distinguish between these three types of information.”
In his terrible handwriting, Penso wrote on the slate board: facts, inferences, judgments.
“Cane.” Penso pointed at the board. “Tell us the definition of these terms.”
“Facts,” Cane said. “Information that can easily be proven correct or incorrect.”
“That’s right,” Penso said. “It’s also important to point out that, in the study of argumentation, facts are not always true. Information can be factual but incorrect. For example, if I say I am seven feet tall, that is a fact, but it is incorrect. For a strong argument, the speaker needs to include correct facts.”
“Wait,” said Ana. “Facts aren’t always true?”
“Not in logic language,” Penso said. “Facts still need to be checked to make sure they are true. Otherwise they might be out of date or just plain incorrect. But facts are always easy to verify.”
He turned to Cane and said, “Now inferences.”
“Inferences,” Cane said. “Logical conclusions based on evidence.”
“Correct,” said Penso.
“Judgments,” Cane said. “Statements of opinion or values.”
“Very good,” Penso said. He wrote Cane’s definition next to each term.
“Let’s practice.” He turned to the rest of the council. “Can anyone give an example of a fact?”
“I’ve got one,” Scontro said. “Nemico is a bunch of stinking rats.”
“That’s an insult!” Grandma Lucy pointed at the core values list. “You’re the one who decided we don’t do that.”
“But they can’t be trusted!” said Ana. “That’s not an insult. It’s a fact!”
“Cane,” Penso said. “Are those facts?”
“No, they’re judgments,” Cane said. “Opinions. You couldn’t prove conclusively that they are correct or incorrect.”
Penso wrote “Nemico can’t be trusted,” under the word judgment.
“What are some other judgments?” Penso asked. “Remember, it’s an opinion or value.”
Scontro pointed at the core values list. “Aren’t those our values?”
Penso smiled. “That’s right. If we change the wording just a bit, everything on that list is a judgment. For example, instead of saying ‘Terralogica avoids wastefulness,’ we could say, ‘It is good to avoid wastefulness.’ Or we could say, ‘It is not honorable to insult others.’”
Penso wrote those sentences on the board under judgments.
“Back to facts now,” Penso said. “Something that can easily be proven true or false. Does anyone have an example?”
“I’ve got one,” said Grandma Lucy. “The road to Alleata is one mile and a quarter long.”
“The clay used in Terralogica pottery comes from the village of Sporca,” said Ana.
“Terralogica was founded two hundred and forty-six years ago,” Scontro said.
Penso wrote their examples under facts.
“All right,” Penso said. “Here’s the trickiest one. Inference. A conclusion based on evidence. Cane, can you give us an example?”
Cane thought for a minute.
“How about what Fatto said?”
“No.” Fatto’s mustache bounced lightly as he shook his head. “My presentation was purely factual.”
“I think you had some inferences.” Cane bit his lip as he thought. “When you said that Nemico is the most likely factor leading to Terralogica making less money. And that our sales will probably continue to decrease. And that in five years we will probably have half the current amount of sales.”
“It’s a fact that if they continue at the same rate, that will be the percentage,” Fatto said.
“If they continue at this rate,” Penso said. “But if we predict a future number based on past experience, that’s an inference. We don’t know for sure, but we have come to a conclusion by examining factual evidence.”
Cane felt a thrill in his stomach as Penso wrote Fatto’s statements on the board under inferences. He loved being correct about argumentation terms, and it was even better to be more correct than the village record-keeper about his own presentation.
Everyone looked at the definitions and examples on the board.
Facts: statements that can easily be proven true or false
The road to Alleata is one mile and a quarter long.
The clay used in Terralogica pottery comes from the village of Sporca.
Terralogica was founded two hundred and forty-six years ago.
Inferences: conclusions based on evidence
Nemico is the most likely factor leading to Terralogica making less money.
Terralogica’s sales will probably continue to decrease.
In five years, Terralogica’s sales will likely be half of what they are now.
Judgments: statements of opinion or values
Nemico can’t be trusted.
It is not honorable to insult others.
It is good to avoid wastefulness.
Even with Penso’s horrible handwriting, it was easy to see the similarities between the items in each category.
“I see what you’re getting at,” Cugina said. “Facts are the best.”
“So if we want people to help us with Project Better Bowl,” Grandma Lucy said, “we should stick with just the facts.”
Cane shot his hand up in the air.
“You don’t need to raise your hand,” Penso said. “What did you want to tell us?”
“A persuasive argument usually includes facts, inferences and judgments! Just facts is boring. It would just sound like the way Fatto talks.”
“Cane!” Ana said.
“It doesn’t bother me to be called boring,” Fatto said, his mustache quivering proudly. “Facts are boring.”
“Exactly,” Cane said. “Facts are boring!”
“But we need facts,” Mayor M. said. “Otherwise we’re just making guesses.”
“That’s corect,” Penso said. “Facts are extremely important for making good decisions and communicating those decisions to others. Every credible argument needs to be grounded in facts. But facts alone can’t persuade an audience. People need interpretation of the facts, some expert opinions about what those facts might mean—inferences. And people also need to know what’s important, what the goal is, where the speaker stands on the issues—judgments.”
Penso asked everyone to share facts, inferences and judgments to include in Mayor M.’s Newspost about the bowls. He made a list of their ideas on the slate board.
“Perfect,” said Mayor M. “I’ll draft a Newspost that includes all of this information, along with our directions for the bowls. It can be sent out tomorrow.”
The Newspost arrived on Ana and Cane’s doorstep the next afternoon, delivered by one of the children who volunteered for the mayor as part of their school duties. The post read:
Dear Citizens of Terralogica,
I am writing to inform you of some alarming news, and to let you know how you can help.
As you may have learned at the Village Meeting or in our recent Newspost, Terralogica has become the target of an aggressive campaign to outsell us with cheap, breakable imitations of our pottery. Terralogica’s record keeper has informed me that our pottery sales have been declining at an increasing rate since the first sighting of Nemico pottery. While the decreases in sales may seem small at the moment, if this trend continues at the same rate, Terralogica is predicted to have a fifty percent income reduction in five years.
As your mayor, I am confident that Terralogica pottery is worth paying for. We do not need to lower our prices or lessen our quality. What we do need to do is let people in neighboring villages see what makes our pottery superior.
To this end, I need your help. Working with several advisors, we have devised a plan to demonstrate the high quality of Terralogica pottery to our potential customers. For this plan, we will need you to create small bowls to distribute as samples; details are on the attached “bowl design” document. You will be compensated fairly for your work.
Participation is voluntary, but I very much hope you will join me in this effort for the future success of Terralogica.
Sincerely,
Mayor Moderata Lizardflower
Ana read the Newspost aloud to Cane, Donalta and Gatta.
“It’s so persuasive,” Donalta said. “I wasn’t sure about this idea when you described it the other day, but this makes me want to participate.”
“It has facts, inferences, and judgments,” Cane said. “Plus logos, ethos and pathos.”
“I can’t wait to start making the bowls!” Gatta said.
More than seventy families signed on to participate in Project Better Bowl. Ana’s shop stopped production of Rabbitleaf pottery for a full week and dedicated the shop to full-time bowl creation. They followed the measurements for the bowls exactly, tiny bowls that fit in the palm of a hand. The first set had their own decorations: little yellow daisies with green leafy flourishes around the writing. But soon Ana loved the bowls so much that she decided to decorate them with the Rabbitleaf signature.
“It’s actually quite charming,” Ana said, when Donalta handed her one of the first finished bowls. She held it in both hands, admiring Gatta’s brushwork: Terralogica quality speaks for itself. She had worried about the ugliness of writing on bowls, but the deep brown flourishes of the letters shone beautifully against the pale clay.
“Don’t forget the bottom” Gatta said.
Ana flipped the bowl upside down and saw, in the tiny, perfect lettering: Made with love.
It was her own bowl, made by her own shop by her own hands and those of her family, and yet she found herself desiring it as though she had seen it in someone else’s shop. She could already imagine how nice it would look on the windowsill holding a few loose blossoms, or near the kitchen stove filled with sparkling salt crystals.
“I think this plan is going to work,” she said to Cane.
Cane felt something similar, holding one of the freshly-fired bowls, but not exactly the same. He’d never cared about pottery one way or another, never felt positively or negatively about it. For his entire life, as long as he could remember, pottery was just there, as predictable and unquestioned as trips to the market or the rising of the sun or the or the fact that Gemella was the enemy. Holding the small bowl in his hands, reading the words he helped create, he felt excited about pottery for the first time in his life.
Project Better Bowl ended up working exactly as the Logician’s Council had hoped. Bowls were distributed to all the neighboring village by teams of volunteers. Teachers organized school trips, and students distributed bowls door to door.
“This bowl certainly is nice,” people in the villages would say. “I’ve always meant to visit Terralogica someday.”
“You should visit soon!” The student would drop a bowl, pretend to gasp, then lift it undamaged from the ground. “Did we mention our pottery is unbreakable?”
Even tourists who regularly came to Terralogica were delighted by the tiny bowls that were handed out by each shop owner. Some trekked from shop to shop, trying to collect as many free bowls as they could.
“I’m going to give one to each of my twelve grandchildren,” a visitor to the Rabbitleaf shop told Donalta. “And then I’ll have a set of my own on the windowsill!”
Not all of these collectors bought something, but enough of them did to raise Rabbitleaf sales as high as they’d ever been, numbers higher than before anyone had ever heard the word Nemico.
Mayor M. convened one final meeting of the Logician’s Council to celebrate their triumph.
“Project Better Bowl has succeeded beyond our hopes and expectations,” the mayor said. “I can’t thank each of you enough for your role in saving Terralogica.”
Mayor M. had brought bowl-shaped cookies to celebrate. Cugina and Grandma Lucy split a cookie. Ana offered to split one with Cane, but he wanted his own. Scontro licked the icing off of his before eating it. Cane was surprised to see Stanca-Eth and Stufo-Eth also sharing a cookie, splitting it neatly in half and each nibbling daintily on their piece as they listened to everyone else talk.
Mayor M. turned to Penso.
“And of course, our greatest debt of gratitude goes to Penso. Without your help, none of this would have been possible.”
Penso smiled and bowed ever so slightly at the waist. He still looked like an adult-sized child, Cane thought, but he was starting to show some new wrinkles around his eyes that hadn’t been there a few weeks earlier.
“I want you to know,” Penso said, “that my services are always available should my help be needed in the future.”
“It will be needed,” said Stufo-Eth from their seat next to Stanca-Eth, behind everyone else.
Everyone turned to look at the two Before-People, startled by the ominous statement.
“Just a prediction,” Stufo-Eth said, shrugging.