ISSA Proceedings 1998 – Bad Reasoning, Good Humor
This paper focuses on the rhetorical-hermeneutical aspects of production and understanding of a text containing fallacies generating humor. My emphasis is on deceptive or misleading discourses as a means of creating witty remarks. Humor certainly involves a mistake or deviation, a vice or a flaw; but the error involved is not censurable or damaging, but harmless and good.
In working on the theme of that which is comical in rhetoric and about rhetoric, I noticed how the possible classifications of fallacies, that is to say forms of reasoning which despite being logically unacceptable appear to be persuasive and efficient, are similar or can be juxtaposed with the possible taxonomies of those mechanisms which generate humor. There are at least as many types of humor as there are bad arguments, that is fallacies. And perhaps it is no coincidence that for this very reason there is no satisfactory theory of fallacies, not even a satisfactory theory of humor.
The first sketches of a theory of humor used in conversation and of humor understood as wit (humor as it is used by an orator and humor as it is studied by a rhetorician) can be found in Aristotle, Cicero and Quintilian.
Hilarity that sparks off a fallacy is not something to be ignored; the jibe, the jest, the comical element all have their use in disputes, because, as Gorgia rightly advised, “we should kill [or confound] our opponent’s seriousness with our ridicule and his ridicule with our seriousness” (Aristotle 1924: 1419b 3-5). In this same context Aristotle observes that “the majority of jests arise from metaphors and from being able to surprise through the use trickery” (Aristotle 1924: 1412a, 18-19). Such trickery can come about in three ways:
– with single words (words used with a different meaning from that which is expected, as in play on words, double meaning);
– with unexpected actions (surprising developments);
– with speeches which create an illusion which induces the belief in the reality of something which in fact does not exist (as in the case of what we call fallacies). Read more
ISSA Proceedings 1998 – Wittgenstein And Cognitive Psychology
Wittgenstein’s philosophy of psychology has often been characterized to be behavioristic. On the other hand, the rise of cognitive psychology partly resulted from a critique of behaviorism. It seems that there is an incompatibility between Wittgenstein and cognitive psychology. The thesis that they have only hostile relationship seems to be supported by the work of Rom Harre.[i] According to Harre, Wittgenstein’s philosophical-psychological doctrine would refute the possibility of artificial intelligence. In this article, however, I will argue that such a thesis that there is a-zero-sum game relationship between Wittgenstein and cognitive psychology has to be modified. Certainly, Harre’s thesis is correct insofar as the “strong AI” is concerned. But this does not exclude a positive cooperation between Wittgenstein and cognitive psychology, if one just maintains the “weak AI.” Namely, in terms of John Searle’s distinction of the strong AI and the Weak AI, one can well develop a different picture of the relationship between Wittgenstein and cognitive psychology. In order to support my thesis, I will mainly focus on the clarification of the connection between Wittgenstein’s conception of logical compulsion and P. N. Johnson-Laird’s mental-models theory of inference. Since “thinking” is a key concept for Wittgenstein’s philosophical psychology as well as for cognitive psychology, my clarification should concretely demonstrate in what way a positive dialogue between them can be possible. In particular, this should also provide a concrete example for showing how the weak AI approach can contribute to the development of philosophical psychology.
1.
In Remarks on the Foundations of Mathematics Wittgenstein writes, “In what sense is logical argument a compulsion? –’After all you grant this and this; so you must also grant this!’ This is the way of compelling someone. That is to say, one can in fact compel people to admit something in the way – Just as one can e.g. compel some to go over there by pointing over there with a bidding gesture of the hand.” (§ 117) It is well known that here Wittgenstein tries to show that inference is basically a kind of skill or practice. But one can also clearly see that Wittgenstein approaches the phenomenon of logical inference from a “third person” standpoint. Namely, he construes the “logical must” in terms of “order-giving.” Even in speaking of “order-obeying,” Wittgenstein does not dig out its internal structure from a “first person” standpoint. In addition, Wittgenstein is satified with his explanation to leave out the account of the way how these orders operate. To be sure, in terms of speech act theory, one might say that Wittgenstein traces the source of logical compulsion back to the illocutionary force. In this sense, his account of the “inexorability” of logic is purely “linguistic” in character. For Wittgenstein, a logical compulsion is in reality not merely psychological. Read more
ISSA Proceedings 1998 – Satisfying The Argumentative Requirements For Self Advocacy
1. Introduction
Recent advances in treatments for individuals with a Human Immunodeficiency Virus (HIV) infection or Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome (AIDS) have generated hope for renewed life for many who believed they would die prematurely from the disease, but have also created much confusion and uncertainty for those individuals and their physicians (Brashers, Neidig, Cardillo, Dobbs, Russell, & Haas, in press). Treatments are not equally effective for all individuals, the long-term efficacy and safety of many drugs are unknown, antiviral drugs and treatments can be used in many different combinations, and the selection of some drugs can lead to difficult lifestyle accommodations (e.g., drug regimens with large numbers of pills taken each day, rigid eating schedules, and uncontrollable patterns of diarrhea and nausea). These and many other factors must be considered when making decisions about treatment options.
Many individuals with HIV or AIDS have taken to educating themselves about treatments, reading scientific reports and engaging in activities such as journal clubs and discussion groups, so that they may make informed treatment decisions (Brashers, Haas, Klingle, & Neidig, 1998). These activities provide the basis for patients to argue for preferred treatments in discussions with their physicians. Yet, despite their increased knowledge about treatment options, many patients have difficulties in the process of advocating for themselves.
Why is advocating for oneself problematic? Argumentation often is seen as a circumstance which calls for objective reasoning. Individuals who need to promote their own interests (i.e., self-advocacy) in what might be taken as an argumentative context (e.g., requests for medications or treatments from a physician, letters of application for employment, or other requests for actions that benefit the advocate) often appear too interested in the outcome to remain sufficiently objective. Self-advocacy is a form of argumentation which can create unique requirements, including how to promote one’s self-interest while providing evidence and reasoning will be free from personal biases.
The requirements for self-advocacy argumentation are a function of norms and circumstances that vary across situations. In this paper, we explore the argumentative requirements of self-advocacy in the context of individuals with a Human Immunodeficiency Virus (HIV) infection or Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome (AIDS) and their interactions with health care providers. Literature on activism and self-advocacy will be reviewed as background. Data from a larger project on AIDS activism and self-advocacy is used to examine specific argumentative strategies reported by individuals to promote their interests in interactions with health care workers. The analysis will be used to explore claims about the unique argumentative burdens of self-advocacy, as well as to demonstrate how supporting self-advocacy claims may lead to perceptions of fallacious moves in the discussion (e.g., playing on the opponent’s compassion or providing a personal guarantee of the correctness of the claim, see van Eemeren & Grootendorst, 1992). Read more
ISSA Proceedings 1998 – How To Lose An Argument
Arguments are like families: the happy ones all resemble one another, but each unhappy one is unhappy in its own way. Like families, no one wants to be part of a dysfunctional one. Like families again, as a general rule of thumb, it is the unhappy arguments that are the most interesting for argumentation theorists and the most fun for non-participant spectators. There is a notable exception to this, an unhappy argument that loses its appeal to spectators rather quickly – the interminable filibuster. And yet, while filibusters may be uninteresting to spectators, they should be quite interesting for argumentation theorists.
There are many ways of conceptualizing arguments (Cohen 1995). Two stand out in particular because they are individually so common and so compelling yet they embody completely different criteria for success and failure. For many, the first thing that comes to mind when we speak of arguments is the idea of some sort of verbal warfare. This is the “adversarial” paradigm for arguments, the subject of rhetoric. Two arguers are each trying to persuade the other of something, or to do something, while simultaneously trying to resist all of the other’s attempts at persuasion. This is the notion of arguments that is enshrined in what Robert Nozick has called “coercive philosophy” – making people believe things whether they want to or not (Nozick 1981: 4). It is also manifest in the militaristic language we use to talk about arguments. Good arguments are “strong” or “knockdown;” they are “right on target” with “lots of punch,” while bad arguments are “weak,” “vulnerable to counterattack,” and easily “shot down.” And like warfare, argumentation is an art. Success can be achieved in many ways, so ready arguers should have a well stocked arsenal at their disposal, one whose weapons include the brute force of reason, the carefully constructed ambush, the verbal jujitsu of Socratic elenchus, the captivating analogy, the deadly barbs of satire, or perhaps even the bombshell of a surprise revelation (Lakoff and Johnson 1980: Ch. 1). Filibusters lay siege.
The result of a successful argument, according to the adversarial paradigm, is the end of resistance and a victory over the now converted opposition who henceforth will believe or act in accordance with the dictates of the winner. From the other side, this means that unsuccessful arguments suffer a particularly ignominious kind of failure: losing. But isn’t there something wrong with this picture? If someone has successfully constructed an argument leading us to a true, or at least now-warranted, conclusion, why should we feel that we have lost rather than gained something? Why are we resentful rather than grateful? The discomfort arises because there is a second way to conceptualize arguments that also appeals to us as arguers and holds sway in our thoughts. An argument is an extended chain of reasoning – a sequence of elements, propositions or speech acts, say – in which acceptance of the starting points, the premises, leads or commits one, in some logical sense, to accepting the final element, the conclusion. We subject ourselves to the less arbitrary and more benevolent “dictates of reason” rather than to those of any lesser master. This is the “argument as proof” paradigm, the subject of logic. It is the ideal of reasoning that is embodied (we like to think) in the pages of academic journals of mathematics and symbolic logic. Whether the absolute objectivity inherent in this conception is taken as transcendental proof that we are more than the sum of this mortal coil or dismissed as the incoherent by-product of hypostatizing linguistic convention, there is a normative force to this ideal that is integral to our evaluations of arguments. Read more
ISSA Proceedings 1998 – Acts Of Argumentation: Beyond Spoken Dialog
1. Introduction: four approaches to argumentation
Theories, or treatments or conceptions of argumentation form three large classes which I will call the formal-logical, the dialectical and the rhetorical.
Formal-logical treatments take argumentation to be a structure of propositions whose truth relations are the only concern of a disembodied Pure Reason. The formal-logical approach to argumentation consists in classifying forms of argument as valid or invalid, assuming that every argument has a readily determined form and declaring each argument valid if it has a valid form, invalid otherwise. That is all you do. Ten zillion logic texts exemplify this approach. But it is true that some inferences are invalid and this can be good to know.
Dialectical accounts, pioneered by Hamblin (1970), take argumentation to be a rule-governed two-party game with claims, in which the aim of one or both parties is to secure the acceptance by the other of some specific claim. The dialectical approach to argumentation improves on the formal-logical approach in recognising argumentation to be action. The recent book of Van Eemeren, Grootendoorst, Jackson and Jacobs (1993) illustrated how the concept of speech act helps us understand argumentative norms other than truth conditions.
The leading concept in a rhetorical approach is the audience. Rhetorical conceptions take argumentation as attempts at rational persuasion of various audiences. In realistically highlighting the persuasive rationale for argumentation and the multifariousness of real examples, rhetorical approaches tend to be open to platonic charges of being concerned with success, not cogency. Crosswhite (1996) is a recent example of this approach.
I will argue for a still more realistic approach to studying argumentation, in two specific respects. My main point is that something more than a shift to rhetorical accounts is needed, specifically, we need more fully pragmatic accounts which observe the material realities introduced into argumentation by writing; that is, we need to take account of the fact that much important argumentation is necessarily written. My secondary point is that a pragmatic perspective demands recognising that much important real argumentation is multi-party – it involves many more participants than two. I will sketch an argument for these two rather general claims via a discussion of ad hominem argument.
2. Are ad hominem arguments fallacious?
Consider the following letters to the editor of The Age, a Melbourne newspaper, one day in February this year:
1.
Pardon?
John Howard states that Kim Beazley is a failed Finance Minister and a failed Employment Minister. Is Australia’s worst Prime Minister the most appropriate person to make such an assessment?
Colin Cleary, Epsom
2.
What makes an expert?
The loss of Walter Mikac’s family was tragic beyond words, but it is sheer emotionalism to imply this gives him technical expertise in the field of effective firearms regulations.
Chris Armstrong, Ringwood North Read more
ISSA Proceedings 1998 – The Power And Perceived Truthfulness Of Visual Arguments In U.S. Political Campaign Biofilms
A relatively new, and certainly significant, controversy about the nature of argument revolves around whether it is possible to argue visually or whether argumentation is solely a linguistic phenomenon. Fleming (1996) offers a succinct review of advocates both for and against the extension of argument to visual images. Scholars who reject the extension of argument to visual messages assume a priority of verbal over non-verbal means of communication. Language, they argue, offers reasons for belief; linguistic reason-giving is the necessary characteristic of argument and, without language, argument cannot exist (van Eemeren & Grootendorst 1984, Balthrop 1980, Toulmin, Rieke, & Janik 1979, Kneupper 1978). Fleming explains the rejection of non-linguistic forms of argument by contending that argument must both assert and prove, which in the case of pictures is impossible because one cannot differentiate between these two necessary elements. Fleming writes, “To say that a picture can be an argument is to leave individuals with the impression that they have argued for something when they have merely placed it in someone else’s field of vision” (1996: 13).
Although Fleming writes that “argument requires a structure in which conceptually-distinct ideas can be sequentially linked” (14), which verbal arguments are capable of achieving, the characterization of arguments as linear (Hintikka & Bachman 1991, Andrews, Costello & Clark 1993, Postman 1985) is limiting and short-sighted. We contend, as others who support the extension of argument to visual images, that neither verbal nor visual arguments are always linear and that pictures can be visual messages that argue enthymematically when they evoke a shared cultural claim and offer proof of that claim (Willard 1989, Hesse 1992, Fisher 1988, Fisher & Filloy 1982, Medhurst & DeSousa 1981).
Like verbal messages, visual messages are not absolute, but they nonetheless make the proposition that what is depicted is real or truthful. In political persuasion, anything that leads an audience to say “this is real,” or “this is truth,” is a powerful component of the rhetorical process meriting further attention. As Shelley (1996) writes, “in the case of rhetorical visual arguments, the individual elements of a picture evoke a pattern of verbal and emotional associations in the mind of the viewer” (67). The message is not just placed in someone’s field of vision; by careful association an enthymematic appeal is made. Of course, the visual message can reinforce a linguistic message, but we contend that even without the verbal claim, the argument can be completed by the viewer. There is no guarantee that all viewers will interpret the visual message in the same manner, but there is similarly no guarantee that an audience will interpret a verbal message in the same manner. Read more