Big Mood

A meme, a mishap, and a moral.

First, a little background. Long ago (2021) on a website called 4Chan (if you have to ask, don’t), a story circulated that a grad student had tested inmates at San Quentin State Prison on their ability to answer hypothetical questions. The claim was that low-IQ individuals can’t imagine things that might have happened, but didn't, such as: “how would you feel if you hadn’t eaten breakfast today?” So asking that question online is now a way of implying that your opponent can’t answer it, meaning he’s cognitively impaired. I could go on, but I care for you and respect your time, so I won’t.

Next, a mishap. On the Whatever podcast, which exists to generate viral clips for saps like me who take the bait, the host tested one of his guests with the breakfast question. Except—plot twist!—she actually hadn’t eaten breakfast that morning, so the question wasn’t hypothetical. At this point I lost focus and spiraled off into avuncular concern. Is she getting enough to eat? Intermittent fasting is in, I know. But I just want to make sure she’s not starving herself, getting enough protein…okay, she looks fine. Not the point, Spence. Maybe this is why the podcast is called Whatever.

Anyway, the thrilling conclusion: the young woman didn’t really know how to answer the question. I think this was supposed to make her look stupid, because along with generating viral clips, making young women look stupid also often seems to be the point of the Whatever podcast. And in the typical sequence of the meme, the foolish interlocutor (who cannot simulate the imaginary situation), replies: but I did eat breakfast today! This actually is an inappropriate response. And it is superficially very close to what the woman said, but different in an important way.

If the hypothetical scenario didn’t actually happen, that’s irrelevant. But if it did actually happen, it’s the scenario that’s irrelevant, and the question, not the answer, that becomes meaningless. All of which is a long way of saying that the host, not the guest, ended up looking a little stupid.

And now, a grammar lesson. “If-then” statements like the one featured in the meme are called “conditional” constructions, because they present a condition (“if this”) and propose or interrogate a possible consequence if the condition is fulfilled (“then this”). The fancy word for the “if” part is a protasis, and the “then” part is called an apodosis. Think of it like this: in the protasis you propose a scenario, whether hypothetical or actual. (In the apodosis you “give back” a corresponding result, which is what the word means.) Conditional sentences are a little like algebra equations: you have to balance the “if” with a grammatically appropriate “then.”

So, “hypothetical” is actually kind of an inexact term to describe what the question is supposed to be. Strictly speaking, the host was trying to propose a counterfactual, which is what it’s called when the protasis didn’t actually happen. But if you propose a counterfactual that actually did happen, you are simply using words that mean nothing, a bit like saying “the color yellow is square-shaped.” It’s a tiny snag where the fabric of our language creates technical possibilities that don’t actually map onto any underlying reality, like a wrinkle where the rug doesn’t lie quite flat on the floor.

So if you pose your protasis as a counterfactual, but in fact it is…factual, then you have set up an algebra equation that has no solution. There simply isn’t an apodosis that can appropriately match what’s being proposed—hence the young lady’s confusion.

All of this is made a little more clear in languages like Greek and Latin, which indicate the shift from counterfactual to factual with a shift in the type of verb, typically from indicative (the kind that indicates facts) to subjunctive or optative (the kinds that speculate about hypotheticals).

These shifts are called changes in “mood,” and I just think that’s really great because they’re kind of like vibe shifts: the vocabulary stays the same, but the flavor changes a little. We do have moods in English, but we’ve gradually lost our sharp distinctions between subjunctives and indicatives, which is a big mood. Turns out counterfactuals do care about your feelings. Isn’t this fun?! Okay, okay, I’ll stop.

But finally, a moral to the story. If we wanted to have a conversation about civilizational decline, then we would indeed have to get serious about the impoverishment of our language and ask whether grammatical laxity has made all of our thoughts fuzzier (unreal present conditional). But if all we’re interested in is snickering at randos who (we think) embody that civilizational decline, then more likely than not we will discover the joke’s on us (simple open indicative conditional). Because should we ever get around to looking in the mirror, we will discover that we, too, have been corrupted by the same social maladies of which our chosen hate object is also a victim (future, I’m afraid, rather less vivid than more).

It turns out you can’t undo 50 years of sexual revolution just by pointing at the children it produced, miserable and degraded though they often are, and saying, “look how miserable and degraded!” You actually have to make the much more difficult effort of rebuilding from the rubble, which starts at home. That would involve getting up in the morning, suiting up, and asking how you, personally, can move one step closer to the apodosis you’d like to see in the world. Oh, and don’t forget to eat breakfast. Or not. Whatever.

Rejoice evermore,
Spencer

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