For this reason, when I was last wandering through the library, I couldn’t resist pulling out William March’s book, 99 Fables.
And I was particularly struck by Fable #4, “The Persimmon Tree,” about a loophole-invoking possum.
In the fable, a possum looks longingly at the delicious persimmons hanging from the fox’s tree, and thinks about how badly he wants one. “’No,’ he said. ‘The fox is my friend and benefactor, and he trusts me. Oh, no!’”
Several days later, he stares again at the persimmon tree, where the fruits had reached their finest flavor. His mouth waters, but he turns away and goes home.
There, he sees his wife, who says, “’What a morning this would be for eating persimmons! When I think how sweet they are…I could break down and cry my eyes out.’”
The possum says, “’That settles it. I’ll take those persimmons if it’s the last thing I ever do…Why, what sort of a creature would I be if I deprived my sweet, faithful wife of persimmons—endangering her health and making her cry her dear eyes out.’”
The fable concludes: “We often do for the sake of others what we would like to do for ourselves.”
I identify the ten — yes, ten — categories of loopholes. (Here’s a list of all ten.) Now, what’s a loophole? A loophole is a justification that we invoke to excuse us from keeping this particular action or habit in this particular situation. We’re not mindfully making exceptions, we’re invoking a loophole as an excuse.
The possum is invoking the “concern for others” loophole. We tell ourselves that we’re acting out of consideration for others and making generous, unselfish decisions. Or, more strategically, we decide we must do something in order to fit in to a social situation.
It will hurt my girlfriend’s feelings if I get up early to write.
I’m not buying this junk food for me, I have to keep it around for others.
So many people need me, there’s no time to focus on my own health.
It would be so rude to go to a friend’s birthday party and not eat a piece of birthday cake.
I don’t want to seem holier-than-thou.
Changing my schedule would inconvenience other people.
I can’t ask my partner to stay with the kids while I go to class.
At a business dinner, if everyone is drinking, it would seem weird if I didn’t drink. (This loophole comes up a lot with drinking. Teenagers aren’t the only ones to feel peer pressure to drink, it seems.)
We all have the few loopholes that we invoke most readily. My own personal favorite is the false choice loophole.
Do you agree with the moral of the fable, that “We often do for the sake of others what we would like to do for ourselves”?
Have you ever done something that you thought you shouldn’t, for the benefit of someone else? This loophole is tricky, because sometimes to do that is a form of virtue, and other times, a form of self-deception.