Congratulations, You’ve Met Everyone on Earth

The intellectual laziness of sweeping generalizations

There are roughly eight billion human beings wandering around this planet, and apparently some people have managed to meet every single one of them.

It’s an extraordinary accomplishment. Between working, sleeping, eating, scrolling through TikTok, and arguing with strangers on Facebook, these remarkable individuals have somehow found time to personally evaluate the character, intelligence, morality, and behavior of entire populations.

How else could they confidently announce things like:

“All conservatives are evil.”

“All liberals are idiots.”

“All men are sexual predators.”

“All Christians are hypocrites.”

“All Somalis are criminals.”

That’s a tremendous amount of field research. I’m particularly impressed by the logistics.

Of course, there’s another possibility.

They haven’t met everyone. They haven’t conducted any research. They haven’t even bothered to think particularly hard about what they’re saying.

They’ve simply mistaken their prejudices for facts.

And thanks to social media, they now have an international audience for their intellectual achievements.

The Eight-Billion-Person Survey

Let’s start with a simple question.

When someone announces that all conservatives are evil, how many conservatives have they personally known well enough to make an informed judgment about their character?

Ten? Fifty? A hundred? A thousand?

Let’s be generous and assume they’ve personally known a thousand conservatives. Not merely encountered them online, watched a selectively edited video, or exchanged insults over a political bumper sticker. Actually known them.

That’s a pretty impressive social circle.

Now, how many conservatives are there in the world?

Nobody knows the precise number, partly because political labels vary between countries, but we’re certainly talking about an enormous population. At least a billion.

So our amateur sociologist has examined a tiny fraction of the relevant population and confidently announced a moral judgment about everyone else.

That’s not research. That’s a rounding error with an attitude.

And there’s another little problem.

Even if those thousand acquaintances were uniformly unpleasant, what makes them a representative sample? Were they selected randomly? Did they come from different countries, economic backgrounds, age groups, and cultures?

Or were they simply people our researcher happened to encounter?

Perhaps they were selected from the comments section of a Facebook political argument, which is roughly equivalent to conducting a survey of human intelligence outside a bar at closing time.

A personal experience can be genuine without being representative.

Your unpleasant neighbor may be a conservative. That doesn’t make every conservative unpleasant.

Your obnoxious coworker may be a liberal. That doesn’t make every liberal obnoxious.

And your cousin who insists the Earth is flat may be a complete idiot, but unfortunately, idiocy doesn’t come with an exclusive political affiliation.

Does That Include Your Son?

Now let’s examine one of the more disturbing sweeping generalizations:

“All men are sexual predators.”

That’s quite an accusation.

We’re talking about billions of human beings, including people who have never committed a sexual offense, never contemplated committing one, and would be horrified at the suggestion.

So let’s ask a few questions.

Does that include your father?

Your grandfather?

Your husband?

Your brothers?

Your sons?

What about your six-year-old nephew? Should we notify the authorities now, or wait until he reaches puberty?

Suppose you have a newborn grandson. Is he already guilty, or does his criminality begin at some predetermined developmental milestone? He was, after all, showing a little excitement when his diaper was changed.

The absurdity becomes obvious when the speaker is required to apply the accusation to actual human beings rather than an abstract category.

Often the response is something like, “Well, obviously I don’t mean every man.”

Wonderful.

Then why did you say every man?

Words mean things. That’s generally why we use them.

And if you genuinely believe every male human being is a sexual predator, including your own family members and infant children, the problem isn’t with the people asking you to clarify your statement.

It’s with your apparent inability to distinguish human biology from criminal conduct.

Sexual assault is a serious crime. Its victims deserve justice, and its perpetrators deserve accountability.

But accusing billions of innocent people of being potential or actual criminals based entirely on their sex doesn’t advance either objective. The USAF did exactly that with its SAPR training, and it was not taken well at all. I maintain that it damaged the credibility of the training and the trainers. It replaced individual responsibility with undeserved collective guilt.

The One-Person Problem

Here’s a delightful little inconvenience for people who make absolute declarations.

You only need one genuine exception to disprove them.

If someone says all liberals are idiots, produce one intelligent liberal.

If someone says all conservatives are evil, produce one decent conservative.

If someone claims every veteran is psychologically damaged, find one veteran who isn’t.

The original universal claim is now false.

This is not advanced mathematics. It doesn’t require a PhD in philosophy, a government research grant, or a subscription to an academic journal.

It’s basic logic.

There’s even a name for the underlying mistake: the hasty generalization fallacy.

It occurs when someone draws a broad conclusion from evidence too limited or unrepresentative to justify it.

And when that conclusion becomes an absolute statement about every member of a population, a single legitimate counterexample is enough to defeat it.

Of course, that’s usually when the verbal gymnastics begin.

“Well, I didn’t literally mean all of them.”

Then perhaps you should stop literally saying all of them.

The Great Retreat: All, Most, Some

There’s an interesting progression that sometimes occurs when sweeping declarations encounter basic questioning.

“All conservatives are evil.”

Really? Every single one?

“Well, most of them.”

Interesting. What evidence establishes that a majority are evil?

“Well, a lot of them are.”

How many? And how are you measuring evil?

“Well, I’ve seen plenty of examples.”

And there we have it.

We’ve traveled from a universal moral condemnation to an unspecified collection of personal observations, most of which are from time spent on social media.

Quite a journey.

Here’s something that shouldn’t require explanation:

All, most, many, and some are not interchangeable words.

“All” means every member of the group.

“Most” means more than half.

“Many” indicates a substantial but unspecified number.

“Some” indicates at least a portion of the group.

These words represent different claims and require different levels of evidence.

If someone says most members of a group exhibit a particular behavior, demonstrating that some members don’t exhibit it does not disprove the claim.

And yet people routinely respond to “most” as though the speaker said “all.”

I’ve even had artificial intelligence do that to me. Apparently, we have successfully taught computers to misunderstand qualifiers with the same enthusiasm as humans.

Perhaps that’s the real breakthrough in artificial intelligence: machines that can construct straw men without ever understanding the original argument.

But there’s an equally important point.

Replacing “all” with “most” doesn’t magically make your accusation factual.

If you’re going to claim that a majority of millions of people possess some particular characteristic, you still need evidence that supports a majority.

A few videos, personal encounters, and online arguments don’t establish that.

They establish that you’ve seen a few videos, had some personal encounters, and participated in online arguments.

Congratulations. So has practically everyone else.

The Social Media Freak Show

Imagine visiting a zoo where the staff deliberately displays only the most aggressive, obnoxious, and unusual examples of every species.

After spending three hours watching a chimpanzee throw feces, you conclude that all chimpanzees spend their entire lives throwing feces.

That’s approximately how millions of people develop their opinions about political, religious, and social groups.

Except the zookeeper is now an algorithm.

Social media platforms have an obvious incentive to keep people engaged. Anger, outrage, conflict, and absurd behavior are remarkably effective at accomplishing that.

A reasonable person quietly discussing a complicated issue with a political opponent isn’t necessarily going to attract much attention.

A screaming lunatic accusing half the country of treason, stupidity, or moral degeneracy?

Now we’re generating engagement.

The result is a digital environment where the most extreme examples of human behavior can become disproportionately visible.

Watch enough videos of obnoxious liberals, and you may begin believing that all liberals behave that way.

Watch enough videos of obnoxious conservatives, and the same thing happens in reverse.

Watch enough videos of badly behaved men or women, and suddenly entire sexes become suspect.

You’ve mistaken the freak show for the census.

And the more you engage with that material, the more similar material you’re likely to encounter.

Eventually, your information environment begins reinforcing what you already believe.

You aren’t necessarily learning more about humanity.

You’re repeatedly examining the same carefully selected slice of it.

It’s confirmation bias with a recommendation engine.

The Convenient Exception Department

One of the most revealing aspects of sweeping generalizations is how quickly people begin making exceptions when the accusation reaches someone they actually know.

“All rich people are greedy.”

What about your wealthy uncle who quietly funds scholarships?

“Well, he’s different.”

“All government employees are lazy.”

What about your daughter who works twelve-hour shifts at a VA hospital?

“Obviously, I don’t mean her.”

“All military officers are incompetent.”

What about that outstanding commander you served under?

“Well, there are exceptions.”

Of course there are exceptions.

That’s precisely the point.

Once you’ve acknowledged them, your original absolute statement is no longer defensible.

But there’s a deeper problem here.

People are often perfectly capable of recognizing individual complexity when dealing with someone they know personally.

Their neighbor isn’t merely a political label.

Their father isn’t merely a man.

Their daughter isn’t merely a government employee.

Their friend isn’t merely a member of a religion.

These are people with histories, personalities, principles, flaws, virtues, and individual experiences.

Yet millions of strangers are denied that same complexity because they’re easier to condemn when reduced to a label.

Apparently, individuality is a privilege reserved for people you’ve met.

Try That in the Military

Military veterans should have a particular appreciation for the absurdity of collective judgment.

Imagine an airman in one maintenance squadron violates a technical order.

Rather than investigate the incident, identify the responsible individual, determine the contributing factors, and take appropriate corrective action, the Air Force announces that every aircraft maintainer in the service is incompetent.

Every crew chief.

Every avionics technician.

Every engine mechanic.

Every weapons loader.

Guilty.

Including people who weren’t on the installation, didn’t know the individual, and had never even worked on that type of aircraft.

Now, anyone who has served knows the military occasionally enjoys the time-honored tradition of making an entire unit suffer because one individual did something profoundly stupid.

But even the most enthusiastic practitioner of collective punishment would have difficulty justifying disciplinary action against every maintainer on the planet.

And yet people perform the intellectual equivalent every day.

One police officer commits a crime. All police officers are corrupt.

One veteran behaves badly. All veterans are unstable.

One religious leader is exposed as a fraud. All religious people are hypocrites.

One immigrant commits a crime. All immigrants are dangerous.

One political activist behaves like a lunatic. Everyone sharing that political affiliation must be equally deranged.

The logic doesn’t become more sophisticated merely because the speaker feels strongly about the subject.

Collective guilt is still collective guilt.

And assigning it based on group membership rather than individual behavior is fundamentally incompatible with the concept of personal accountability.

The Substitution Test

Here’s a particularly useful exercise.

Take your favorite sweeping generalization and substitute a different group.

If someone says all conservatives are evil, substitute liberals.

If someone says all liberals are stupid, substitute conservatives.

Replace men with women.

Replace one religion with another.

Replace one nationality with another.

Now ask yourself whether the statement suddenly sounds offensive, discriminatory, or intellectually indefensible.

If the answer changes depending on which group is being condemned, perhaps your standard isn’t quite as principled as you imagined.

The validity of a logical argument doesn’t depend on whether its target happens to be fashionable to dislike.

Of course, different groups can have different histories and circumstances. Those differences may matter when evaluating specific social problems or documented patterns.

But none of them transforms inadequate evidence into adequate evidence.

And none gives someone magical insight into the private character of millions of strangers.

The same reasoning standards ought to apply regardless of whose ox is being gored.

Prejudice in a Respectable Disguise

Perhaps the most entertaining contradiction comes from people who proudly announce their opposition to prejudice, stereotyping, and intolerance.

Their social media biographies may celebrate compassion, inclusion, diversity, and respect.

They’ll explain, sometimes at considerable length, why making assumptions about people based on group identity is morally reprehensible.

Then they’ll casually announce that everyone belonging to a particular political, religious, or demographic group is stupid, evil, dangerous, or morally inferior.

Apparently, prejudice is unacceptable unless directed toward someone they already dislike.

At that point, it becomes moral clarity.

That’s quite a convenient arrangement.

You can condemn stereotyping while engaging in it.

You can celebrate diversity while despising people whose opinions differ from yours.

You can declare yourself compassionate while expressing contempt for millions of strangers.

And when someone points out the contradiction, you can accuse them of defending the people you’ve just condemned.

It’s a wonderfully efficient system for avoiding introspection.

But intellectual consistency doesn’t work that way.

If judging people according to stereotypes is wrong, then it’s wrong even when the target belongs to a group you dislike.

If individuals deserve to be evaluated according to their conduct, then that principle applies to individuals whose political opinions offend you.

You don’t get to suspend your principles whenever they’re inconvenient.

Well, technically you can.

But you probably shouldn’t congratulate yourself for your moral superiority while doing it.

Criticizing Behavior Isn’t Condemning Identity

None of this means people must abandon criticism.

Quite the opposite.

Criticize politicians who lie.

Condemn criminals who assault others.

Expose religious leaders who exploit their followers.

Challenge political philosophies you believe are destructive.

Call out military leaders who abuse their authority.

Hold corporations accountable for unethical conduct.

There is nothing inherently wrong with strong criticism, harsh language, or moral judgment when they’re directed toward identifiable actions, claims, or behavior.

The problem begins when specific criticism is converted into universal condemnation.

“That politician lied” is a claim that can be investigated.

“That man committed sexual assault” is an allegation that can be evaluated against evidence.

“That religious leader stole money” describes conduct that can be examined.

“Everyone belonging to their group is equally guilty” is something entirely different.

You’ve stopped evaluating conduct and started assigning guilt by association.

And you’ve done so without evidence concerning the individuals you’re condemning.

That’s not intellectual rigor.

It’s intellectual laziness dressed up as certainty.

The People You Never Hear From

One final consideration.

Most of humanity isn’t appearing in your social media feed.

Millions of people are working, raising families, helping neighbors, volunteering, attending religious services, enjoying hobbies, and generally trying to get through their lives without becoming the subject of an internet argument.

They’re not filming political tirades from their cars.

They’re not screaming obscenities at strangers.

They’re not announcing that everyone who disagrees with them deserves to be miserable.

They’re simply living.

But ordinary people doing ordinary things don’t always produce spectacular engagement.

So the loudest, angriest, and most outrageous members of a group may become its most visible representatives.

Visibility, however, is not prevalence.

The person attracting ten million views for behaving like a jackass isn’t automatically representative of the millions of people who share one of his characteristics.

He’s simply a jackass with excellent distribution.

And if you build your understanding of an entire population around people like him, perhaps the problem isn’t the population.

Perhaps it’s your research methodology.

Congratulations, You’ve Met Everyone

The next time you’re tempted to announce that all conservatives are evil, all liberals are idiots, all men are predators, or every member of some other enormous group possesses the same objectionable characteristic, consider the magnitude of what you’re claiming.

You’re making a declaration about people you’ve never met.

People whose lives you’ve never examined.

People whose character you’ve never evaluated.

People whose actions you’ve never witnessed.

You’re claiming that a label tells you everything necessary to judge an individual.

Maybe you’ve had terrible experiences with members of that group.

Maybe you’ve encountered genuinely reprehensible behavior.

Maybe you have legitimate criticisms of beliefs, institutions, or social patterns associated with the group.

Those experiences and criticisms deserve to be considered on their merits.

But they don’t grant you omniscience.

They don’t transform anecdotes into representative statistics.

And they certainly don’t establish the guilt, stupidity, or moral inferiority of every stranger who happens to share a characteristic with someone you dislike.

If you’re going to condemn a person’s conduct, identify the conduct.

If you’re going to challenge an idea, challenge the idea.

If you’re going to claim that most members of a group behave a certain way, provide evidence that actually supports that conclusion.

And if you’re going to use the word “all,” you’d better be prepared to defend it.

Otherwise, perhaps a little humility is in order.

You haven’t met everyone on Earth.

You haven’t interviewed them, studied them, or evaluated their character.

You don’t know what every conservative believes, what every liberal thinks, or what every man or woman has done.

You’ve simply decided that knowing something about a person’s group tells you everything you need to know about the person.

There’s a word for that.

And I suspect it’s probably not the word you use to describe yourself.

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Dave Chamberlin runs a consulting and training company and brings more than 40 years of civilian and military aviation experience to his work. He retired as a Chief Master Sergeant after 38 years as an aircraft crew chief in the U.S. Air Force and Air National Guard, and has also worked in technical, instructor, consultant, and leadership roles. He holds an FAA Airframe and Powerplant license and a master’s degree in aeronautical science, and his writing often focuses on military issues, especially those affecting aircraft maintenance personnel.

As the Voice of the Veteran Community, The Havok Journal seeks to publish a variety of perspectives on a number of sensitive subjects. Unless specifically noted otherwise, nothing we publish is an official point of view of The Havok Journal or any part of the U.S. government.