#3        You have informed me that you come from a culture that KNOWS that all students in philosophy classes should fail their first exam.  I believe that this theory of yours is incorrect.  I will present the following arguments as criticism of your theory and attempt to sway your hold on this belief as well.

            I understand that you are taking the position known as hard universalism in telling me that you know that all philosophy students should fail their first exam.  This is because you tell me that you KNOW.  If you meant that you believed that it was correct to fail on the first test, you might have said that this would be one path towards a final end in which we both believe.  I might have construed this as a soft universalistic view. If you had told me that in this day and age in your culture it would be ideal to fail students on their first philosophy test, I would have imagined that you were an ethical relativist.  If you had told me that you did not care about what anyone else did, I might have thought that you were a moral nihilist.  Therefore, I am confident that you take the viewpoint of a hard universalist when it comes to the matter of failing philosophy students on their first test.

            The best way to demonstrate my argument to you is with a critical but logical dialogue.  I will attempt to demonstrate that your theory is not correct.  I will take the position of a soft universalist and you will take the position of a hard universalist in the matter of failing philosophy students on their first test.

Me: Why is it that you believe in such a ridiculous theory?  In Brooklyn, we have never even heard of such nonsense.

You: Liar and Slave!  You attempt to refute the word of the great g*d Failya?  How dare you?

Me: I’m sorry.  I did not know that failing philosophy students on their first test was a divine order.  In that case, I would like to know more about the history of this practice.

You: Many thousands of semesters ago, the great g*d Failya failed his first philosophy test.  Seeing as how Failya was always correct in what he did, he must have failed on purpose.  Our oracles tell us that he did this for the greater purpose.  We follow in his footsteps and fail all the philosophy students in an enactment of the original divine act.

Me: But is there any practical purpose in continuing a practice such as this?

You: Practical?  If you want to think like an infidel then there is indeed a practical purpose.  Such an act forces the students to get very high grades on all subsequent tests because they know that they will otherwise fail.  In this manner, we force all students to work extra hard.  They then accumulate more knowledge.

Me: I see then that the reason you fail on the first test is to force students to work extremely hard on all subsequent subject matter.  They realize that unless they score extremely high on the next test, failure is imminent.  The greater purpose is for the good of the student.  Am I correct in thinking this?

You: Quite right.

Me: Let me ask you something about this theory though.  What about those students who would have worked extremely hard regardless of the grading system?  Do you not give such students an excuse to not study for the first test?  If they are to fail no matter how hard they try, then why even show up?   

You: Why it is obvious.  They want to do well in the class.  By not showing up they ensure a grade even lower than the failure mark.

Me: Okay so leave us suppose that they show up and take the test and failing grade.  Why would they work hard to understand the material if they know it will be graded poorly anyhow?  Is this practice not meant for the betterment of the student?

You: Yes it is.

Me: And yet it gives them an excuse to not bother to study on the first test.

You: If you want to look at it that way, then I will have to suppose you a weak minded fool.  The act is towards the betterment of the majority.  The minority that truly would have actually studied must make this small sacrifice.

Me: Okay so let us presume that the majority does benefit in the end.  How about when they all get out into the corporate world?  Will they not all assume that this is how the real world also functions?  Strictly speaking from the point of view of the student, will they not imagine that a glass roof exists over their heads, preventing any promotional advancements?

You: But they learn more in school by this practice.

Me: But it does no good in the end does it?  They gain more knowledge and yet you have warped their minds in such a manner as to prevent them from ever working hard again unless forced to in the real world.  Don’t you agree that they will not give it 100% unless in danger of losing their jobs?

You: Yes I suppose you are correct.

Me: And was this practice not meant for the betterment of the students?

You: Yes it was.

Me: And yet it reduces them to low-level workers with no passion in bettering their stake in life.  In the end it turns out that it was not the few who were sacrificed and the majority who were bettered, but indeed, the majority who were warped.  Do you think that this is what your Failya originally wanted?

You: I suppose not.

Me: And yet you say that he was always correct.  Maybe you misinterpreted his intentions.  If he is always correct in what he does, don’t you suppose you did misinterpret him somewhere along the line?

You: I suppose so.

Me: Your ultimate purpose was to advance the students learning.  You don’t need to fail them to do this.  Indeed you are working against the continuation of an intelligent society by doing so.  If you want intelligent future generations the means by which it is to come about is not through failing but rather rewarding based on performance. 

You: I must go now.  We can continue this conversation at some later time.

Me: But wait!  You have not explained to me why failing students is in their best interest.  How am I to enlighten others if I myself am unenlightened as to why it is done?

In the above dialogue I criticized your theory.  Using the fictional Failya, whom you hold to be a deity, I attempted to convince you that you were incorrect in assuming the theory you held to KNOW.  My argument ran you around in a circle and forced you to acknowledge the fact that you were advancing a contradiction by implementation of your theory.  The fictional Failya had no bearing on the story except as a reason for why you held a hard universalist view.