Tu-Quoque Tessa

Tessa's reflex was born from a sting. Being told you're wrong hurts — a hot little flare of embarrassment — and young Tessa had discovered that the fastest way to make the hurt stop was to fling it right back. "Oh yeah? Well you did it too!" For one sweet second, the spotlight swung off her and onto someone else, and the sting eased.

But the eased feeling never lasted, because the actual problem was always still sitting there. Her spilled milk didn't un-spill just because her brother had spilled his yesterday. Pointing back felt like winning, but nothing ever got cleaned up, fixed, or better. Tessa slowly realized her mirror only moved the blame around the room — it never solved a single thing. She decided to teach people to catch the reflex before it fired.

Tessa came to LogicQuest last of all — the twelfth and final fallacy-archetype — and stood before Inspector Logos.

"What is tu quoque?"

"It's dodging a criticism by saying the critic does the same thing," Tessa said. "'You too!' And maybe they do — but that's beside the point. Whether I was wrong doesn't change just because someone else is wrong too." Her shell warmed a little. "I do it because being criticized stings, and firing it back makes the sting stop for a second. The skill is noticing the blame-bounce, and going back to fix the first problem anyway."

Inspector Logos nodded. "Someone else's fault never cancels your own — two messes are just two messes. Catching that is the job." She smiled. "Appointed. You complete the cast."

Tessa's lesson came at the school science fair, where she, Pip the squirrel, and Barnaby the badger were building a giant paper-mâché volcano. Tessa was mixing the paste.

"Tessa," Pip said, "your paste is too watery — the paper's sliding right off!"

Tessa's shell went warm, and — snap — the reflex fired. She spotted a fleck of red paint on Pip's paws. "Well, YOU got paint on the floor yesterday! A big red smudge by the door!"

"That was one tiny drop! And it's not about that — the volcano's going soggy!"

Barnaby, calm as ever, pointed at the sagging, melting paper. And Tessa — this was the whole lesson — caught herself mid-mirror, and set the stick down. "Okay. Freeze. Look what I just did. Pip pointed at my watery paste, and I pointed at his old paint smudge — and meanwhile the volcano is still melting." She looked around at the others. "So here's how you catch it. First, feel the sting — that's the trigger; the you-too reflex fires right after it. Second, ask two questions: Has the first problem been fixed? and Does it actually matter that the other person did it too? Third — almost always the answer is: no, it's not fixed, and no, it doesn't matter. The old mess doesn't fix the new mess." She grabbed the flour. "The watery paste is still watery, even if Pip spilled paint. So — more flour, and fix the actual thing." She stirred; the paste thickened; the volcano held.