Is All Fair In Love And War?

Hey, Vsauce. Michael here. Love and war are exactly alike. It is lawful to use tricks and slights to obtain a desired end. But is all fair in love and war? That's a good question; let's pencil it in for this episode. Of course, pencil is not permanent. It can be erased. It's not like whatever I write down is being chiseled into granite.

But pencil lead is made out of carbon atoms organized into a structure called graphite - a nonmetallic mineral with some metallic properties found naturally in rocks, which means things written in pencil, though erasable, are still technically written in stone. In video games, if the bad guys really wanted to stop you, why did they walk around in such predictable patterns? Wouldn't their chances be better if they just came right at you?

There's a great name for this logic: "mook chivalry." It's as if there's a sort of unwritten Geneva Convention that applies to fictional baddies that respects not reality, or what would make sense, but instead the higher purpose of fun and a good story. But in real life, we aren't that much different from the mooks. We construct voluntary obstacles in the way of even honorable goals, like truth, justice, or right over wrong.

Not all is fair in love and war. And it's the exceptions that make us who we are. Torturing your enemies to get information from them, to demoralize them, or just for fun has been a "might is right" part of war since war began. But in the second half of the 19th century, Henry Dunant, the founder of the Red Cross, organized an official moral code of warfare - The Geneva Conventions, that today, across its now 4 conventions, has been agreed to be followed by 196 nations.

And since then, various other customs, codes, and principles have been established totaling up into what may now be called the "Rules of war." Their enforcement is handled by regional, national, and international powers. Of course, an unconcerned force would simply ignore these rules because the quickest route to victory is the one full of unfair advantages, but nonetheless we treasure them. Try to, at least. And believe that all others should.

The values they recognize are telling. Things unrelated to military necessity, or valued in a sense more greatly than immediate victory are protected. For instance, The Environmental Modification Convention prohibits controlling the weather and using the weather as a weapon against your opponents. Before the convention, that happened. For example, during Operation Popeye, US airplanes seeded rain clouds over Vietnam and successfully extended the monsoon season by more than a month, increasing rainfall by 30 percent - a move that made enemy road surfaces muddy, blocked by landslides, washed out, and much less passable.

The laws of war protect certain symbols. Parties or infrastructures bearing symbols that indicate they are only there to help, or are neutral, culturally important buildings that should be protected for posterity are off-limits. It's a violation of the laws of war to attack such targets or to pretend to be such targets if your intentions are otherwise. That is called perfidy. A kind of deception that involves pretending to act fairly and honestly to invite the confidence of an adversary, only to then take advantage of that trust, betray it, and kill, injure, or capture.

If you do one of those three things while pretending to be dead or injured or surrendered or civilian or a non-combatant, well, that's a violation of the rules of war. Espionage is allowed. But if caught, you can be prosecuted and punished. Whereas if you are lawful combatants, on the other hand, you're entitled to protection as an official prisoner-of-war. Conditions like these reveal something we desire to hold above quick vengeance: dignity and respect.

Both sides wish to be treated with that and uphold the bargain. Athletes agreed to play fair, to avoid prohibited things, even technically safe and otherwise legal things that would nonetheless give them an unfair advantage. They do this because the spirit of the sport is more important to them than the quickest victory possible, sportsmanship. Likewise, a sort of "lovesmanship" exists in US courtrooms.

If the most sure-fire way of getting the truth of someone's guilt involves spoiling a bond of love, spousal privilege says chill. Love is sacred. Truth will come second; find another way. So, if you are planning on committing crimes in the US, and you need an accomplice, marry them. Your spouse cannot be forced to testify against you. There are different privileges applying to other relations of yours, allowing them to refuse to give evidence against you.

These rules exist to honor something that we deem, or like to deem, greater than easy victory. You cannot travel faster than light. Or escape from a black hole. Or commit perfidy in a time of war. Or cheat on your significant other. That's usually considered unfair, but the final two aren't physical limitations of matter. They are voluntary obstacles reflecting what we value.

Whether we respect those values or not is another story. And how we interpret what actions are over the line and what aren't is a matter of judgment. We didn't get to create protons or planets - they were already here. But we do get to create judgments. We even named ourselves after that ability. We call ourselves Homo sapiens. 'Homo' meaning hummus - the soil, we are from the earth. 'Sapien' means sapiens, the ability to make wise judgments.

Very few people would argue that all truly is fair in love and war, but in love and war, behaviors otherwise not acceptable can be not only forgiven but recommended. Reading messages not meant for yourself, using disguises, even murder can be downgraded to a crime of passion or lawful combat. But love and war put different things at stake.

And just because unfair things are expected during love and war doesn't mean that within their respective domains we prosecute or prohibit unfairness in the same way. Violating the law of war is a crime, but there is no official law of love. You can prosecute someone for perfidy, or desertion, or weaponizing the weather, but you can't prosecute cupid for heartbreak.

You can't have someone arrested for not loving you back, and you shouldn't call 911 if someone leaves you for someone else. You see, there is no Geneva Convention for love. Furthermore, we often root for friends or fictional characters who follow their hearts, even if it means leaving someone we care less for - a minor character for instance - alone or stranded at the altar.

Does this mean that love is a better excuse for bad behavior than war? Obviously not for criminal behavior, but otherwise? As far as authoritative powers and our modern conception of love are concerned, war - its technologies and strategies are human inventions. Whereas love is a human condition. Love is like inertia or death - inevitable. A law of nature and blameless, if unkind.

We legislate where a bomb can fall, where debris can fall, and prosecute those who violate those rulings. But we don't prosecute gravity for making things fall. We support voluntary restrictions on fair play in sports more - public etiquette. But the players in love's battlefield are blameless victims of their passion, even if those passions are nonsensical. The heart has its reasons, which reason knows nothing of.

Deceiving others, that is what the world calls a romance. Maybe love has this power intrinsically, or maybe we give it that power by leaving it so legally alone. But either way, broken bones are the domain of law. Broken hearts are the domain of 'aww,' 'shucks,' 'sorry.' And as always, thanks for watching.