Apples and oranges

Everyone, at some point in their life, encounters the phrase “you can’t compare apples to oranges.” If you are anything like me, you see this as an outright punt. I am not stubborn; I consider myself to be quite open-minded and easygoing. There are certain common weak thinking points, however, that I have to stick my neck out against. To help you understand, let's first put this phrase in the singular.

"You can’t compare an apple to an orange."

Already, your mind may start to think about the plausibility of making this judgment. Picture this: you take a nice walk down Eddy Street to procrastinate a dreaded theology reading assignment. The heavens open above Trader Joe's, and you suddenly crave some fresh produce. Naturally, you parse through the orange section and pick out the brightest, juiciest orange. Then, some orange hater comes up to you while pretentiously tossing a yellow, moldy apple in the air. 

They say, “Dude, why are you getting an orange? Apples are way better.”

You respond politely, “I think oranges are better.”

Then, they attack your character. Are you going to be a pacifist and claim you cannot compare apples to oranges? No! You’re going to comment on the fact that a worm with tiny glasses is peaking its head out of its rotten apple and claiming to have the better fruit. It would be ridiculous to concede because of a categorical fallacy when you can make a clear qualitative judgment of the fruits.

Of course, in the case there is a perfect apple and a perfect orange, they cannot be properly compared. Even if both are rotten, they cannot be compared. This is because categorically different things which are qualitatively equal cannot and should not be compared. However, in my experience, I have mostly encountered this idiom in contexts where the quality of apples and oranges can be assessed.

I also acknowledge there is subjectivity involved in most discussions of this sort. If you surveyed the Eddy Street Trader Joe’s patrons on their produce preferences, their answers would come down to what they have a stronger taste for. That is fair. More often than not, people’s tastes become truth — if someone really enjoys oranges, they may forget other people come from different experiences and chalk up their preference for apples to willful ignorance.

Most comparisons are more complex than apples and oranges. If a friend came up to you claiming the Emoji Movie is better than your favorite movie, and you gave them ten reasons why they were wrong, and then they were to rebut with “You can’t compare apples to oranges” and walk away, I am certain you would be frustrated or confused. It’s obvious why. You gave them qualitative reasons for how the acting, drama and screenplay contributed to making your movie superior, and they used the “apples and oranges” point to avoid an assessment of the Emoji Movie’s quality. 

My fear is that backing down from making proper judgments on music, books, disciplines, people or anything we encounter can lead to feeble thinking and weak worldviews. Accepting the “Emoji Movie” take is valid because it is too different to compare with “Oppenheimer” is not sufficient reason to hold it in the same arena of cinematic masterpieces. The "apples and oranges fallacy" is just one example of mental escapism. There are plenty of other ways we open the door to poor ideas. What about extreme relativism and the Western movement toward absolute individualism? We are losing sight of the importance of discourse by defaulting to subjectivism.

Before writing off a discussion, think harder about ways you can make judgments for comparison. Which fruit is more fragile? How difficult is it to deal with the seeds? I do not think comparing apples and oranges is at all important, but plenty of objects of comparison confront us every day. Should I get steak frites from Rohr’s or sushi from the Huddle? Basing my judgments on relative quality has allowed me to appreciate different things more superficially. Sure, I do not listen to country music and could not relate to Johnny Cash’s songs, but I can appreciate that his music can bring an old man to tears. For his restraints — maintaining simple instrumental compositions and having a low vocal register — he creates catchy, meaningful songs. I believe that by viewing food, music, movies and people in their own contexts and without judging how they are presented categorically, we are able to see their own relative beauty.

Matt Baird, proud native of Danville, California, is a sophomore majoring in English and Finance. He enjoys walking, listening to music and humming.