ISSA Proceedings 1998 – Simplement, As A Metalinguistic Operator

ISSAlogo1998The use of simplement, I will be dealing with is often viewed as a weaker version of the adversative marker mais (known as ‘mais-pa’). Simplement, however, will not be appropriate in all the environments where mais-pa is to be found; furthermore, it affects cohesion in different ways, as it calls for different types of continuation, gives rise to a different situation schema and context construction, and lends itself to strategic uses of its own. In this paper I will attempt to clarify those various aspects, which, following Anscombre and Ducrot, I will construe in procedural terms, or in terms of semantic constraints on interpretation.

1. Introduction
The use of simplement (henceforth SPT) I am concerned with is one that occurs in examples such as:

(1)
A: Pourquoi est-ce tu ne manges pas ta soupe? Elle est froide?
B: Ce n’est pas qu’elle soit froide, simplement je n’ai pas faim.
A: Why aren’t you eating your soup? Is it cold?
B: It’s not that it’s cold, it’s just that I am not hungry.

(2)
A: Pourquoi est-ce que tu ne veux pas voir Marie?
B: Ce n’est pas que je ne veuille pas la voir, simplement je suis fatigué.
A: Why don’t you want to see Marie?
B: It’s not that I don’t want to see her. It’s just that I am tired.

(3)
A: Ils ne sortent jamais. Est-ce parce qu’ils ont trois enfants?
B: Ce n’est pas qu’ils aient trois enfants. Simplement ils préfèrent travailler le soir.
A: They never go out. Is that because they have three children?
B: It’s not that they have three children. It’s just that they prefer working in the evening.

(4)
A: Pourquoi est-il si triste?
B: Ce n’est pas qu’il ne mange plus de caviar. Simplement ses investissements sont tombés en chute libre.
A: Why does he look so sad?
B: It’s not that he no longer eats caviar. It’s just that his investments have taken a nose dive.
Although my main concern will be with the ce n’est pas que P SPT Q construction, I will also be referring to the following:

(5)
A: Vous êtes pour ou contre cette grève?
B: On les soutient à 100%, simplement cela commence à compliquer la vie de tous les jours.
A: Are you for or against this strike?
B: We are a 100% behind them. It’s just that it is beginning to make everyday life difficult.

(6)
A: Vous avez été voir ce film?
B: Il est tout ce qu’il y a de plus inintéressant. Simplement les enfants ont insisté pour le voir.
A: You went to see that film?
B: It is totally uninteresting. It’s just that the children insisted on going.

(7) Le combat est loin d’être achevé. Simplement il n’a plus le visge d’une action collective.
The struggle is far from over. It’s just that it no longer involves collective action.

Leaving these aside, for the time being, let us turn to the ce n’est pas P SPT Q construction.
As a first approximation of what the speaker S does in saying ‘Ce n’est pas que P SPT Q’, one might want to interpret ‘Ce n’est pas que P’ as a rejection of a real or possible proposal that C1 is the cause of some prior event E; ‘simplement Q’ could then be understood as a counter proposal, that C2 is the actual cause, one which is ‘simpler’ than C1 in some respect.

From this outline two points emerge which require further development. One is the nature and function of the negation involved, the other, the meaning of SPT, which, following Anscombre and Ducrot, I will construe in procedural terms, or in terms of reading instructions.

2. Nature and function of Neg P
From the gloss I have just given one will have gathered that I am leaning towards a metalinguistic reading of the negation, as opposed to a descriptive one. For a quick reminder of what the distinction involves, let’s turn to Horn (1989: 363). According to Horn, ‘…metalinguistic negation focuses on the assertability of an utterance’; by contrast, descriptive negation focuses on the truth or falsity of a proposition. Metalinguistic negation (to quote Horn again) is a ‘…device for objecting to a previous utterance on any grounds whatever, including the conventional implicata it potentially induces, its morphology, its style or register, or its phonological realization’. For examples of metalinguistic negation, consider (8) and (9), borrowed from Anscombre and Ducrot (1977: 26) and Horn (op.cit.: 404), respectively:

(8)
A: Est-ce que Pierre est français?
B: Non, il n’est pas français mais belge.
A: Is Pierre french?
B: No, he isn’t french but belgian.

(9)
We don’t have three children but four.
Metalinguistic negation thus constitutes a comment on a (presumed) comment on facts, which may, but do not necessarily, correspond to the state of affairs described in the propositional content. Descriptive negation, by contrast, will be a comment on the state of affairs described in the propositional content.

Horn (op.cit.: 393-412) proposes three diagnostics for metalinguistic negation. First, metalinguistic negation cannot incorporate prefixally. Thus one can deny the appropriateness of using the predicate ‘possible’ by saying (10), but not (11):

(10)
It’s not possible to see him – it is necessary.

(11)
*It’s impossible to see him – it is necessary.

Similarly, in French one can have (12), but not (13):

(12)
Ce n’est pas possible de le voir – c’est nécessaire.

(13)
*C’est impossible de le voir – c’est nécessaire.

Note also that (14) cannot be taken to express a metalinguistic negation:

(14)
*C’est peu possible de le voir – c’est nécessaire.
* It’s little possible to see him – it’s necessary.

The second diagnostic is based on the fact that metalinguistic negation, unlike descriptive negation, does not trigger negative polarity items. Thus, alongside (15), one will have (17):

(15)
Il n’a rien à me dire.
He has nothing to tell me.

(17)
Il n’a pas quelque chose à me dire, il a beaucoup de choses à me dire.
He does not have something to tell me, he has a lot to tell me.
Where (17) is a metalinguistic negation followed by a rectification of:

(16)
Il a quelque chose à vous dire.
He has something to tell you.

The third diagnostic relies on the correlation that exists between metalinguistic negation and contrastive mais (henceforth mais-sn) on one hand, descriptive negation and concessive mais (henceforth mais-pa) on the other (in Horn this point was made about but ). Thus in (18), a clear case of rectification, the mais is a mais-sn:

(18)
Ce n’est pas beau mais-sn divin.
It’s not beautiful but-sn divine.

By contrast in (19) where S denies that the object under discussion is divine, the mais is a mais-pa:

(19)
Ce n’est pas divin, mais-pa c’est tout à fait charmant.
Neg – P – Q
It’s not divine, but-pa it’s quite charming.

In argumentative terms Anscombre and Ducrot (op.cit.) describe P and Q as arguments for the same conclusion r, with P being argumentatively superior to Q.

My claim that SPT is preceded by a metalinguistic negation does not fare too well by these diagnostics. Thus, X can include a morphologically incorporated negation, as in (6):

(6)
Il est tout ce qu’il y a de plus inintéressant, simplement les enfants ont insisté pour le voir.
It is totally uninteresting; it’s just that the children insisted on gong.

Furthermore, an appropriate substitute for SPT would be mais-pa, rather than mais-sn, which correlates with the failure of Neg P SPT Q constructions to exhibit distributional properties characteristic of mais-sn: according to Anscombre and Ducrot (op.cit.), mais-sn appears only after a syntactic negation and in reduced clauses, and collocates with au contraire, which can also replace it. To these we may add the possibility of a paraphrase with non or non…pas, suggested by Plantin (1978). This contrast between mais-sn and SPT is shown in the following paradigms:

(20)
Ce n’est pas intéressant mais-sn révélateur.
It’s not interesting but-sn revealing.

(21)
*C’est inintéressant mais-sn révélateur.
*It’s uninteresting but-sn revealing.

(22)
Ce n’est pas intéressant mais-sn au contraire révélateur.
It’s not interesting but-sn, on the contrary, revealing.

(23)
Ce n’est pas intéressant, au contraire, c’est révélateur.
It’s not interesting, on the contrary, it’s revealing.

(24)
C’est non pas intéressant mais-sn révélateur.
It’s not interesting but-sn revealing.

(25)
Ce n’est pas intéressant, simplement c’est révélateur.
It’s not interesting, it’s just that it is revealing.

(26)
C’est inintéressant, simplement c’est révélateur.
It’s not uninteresting, it’s just that it is revealing.

(27)
*Ce n’est pas intéressant, simplement au contraire c’est révélateur
*It’s not interesting, on the contrary it’s just that it is revealing.

(28)
?Ce n’est pas intéressant, au contraire c’est révélateur.
?It’s not interesting, on the contrary, it is revealing.

(29)
*C’est non pas intéressant, simplement c’est révélateur.
It’s not interesting, it’s just that it is revealing.

Diagnostic two – the failure of metalinguistic negation to trigger negative polarity items – is the only one that yields positive results, as shown by:

(30)
Ce n’est pas qu’il ait quelque chose à me dire, simplement il a besoin d’une voiture pour demain.
It’s not that he has something to tell me; it’s just that he needs a car for tomorrow.

So, if I wish to maintain that SPT requires a preceding metalinguistic negation, I need to be able to explain why one should disregard the results of diagnostics one and three. Diagnostic one, which, one will recall, relies on the inability of lexical negation to function metalinguistically, is best construed as a means to seek an answer to the following question: ‘Given two explicit negations, one syntactic, one lexical, which of the two can function metalinguistically?’. The underlying assumption being that a negation cannot have this function unless it is inherently metalinguistic. The question one needs to ask in the case of SPT concerns its function only: ‘Given an X SPT Y construction, does the utterance of X always constitute a metalinguistic rejection of some aspect of a prior utterance (either real or presumed)?’ In other words, metalinguistic negation, as envisaged under a functional aspect (i.e., as a process), need not be effected uniquely via a syntactic negation. In addition to such a negation, X may be instantiated by a lexical one, or even no negative element at all. The metalinguistic value in all cases would be due to or reinforced by an instruction conveyed by SPT.

Now, what about diagnostic three? The problem with diagnostic three is that it takes rectification (or correction of A’s utterance at the utterance production level) to be a constant feature of metalinguistic negation. If the function of metalinguistic negation is to object to a prior utterance on any grounds whatever, then, unless for some reason, corrections have to be confined to the ‘materiality’ of the prior utterance, it is unclear why one has to have a rectification as a compulsory feature of metalinguistic negation. In other words, with Neg P SPT Q constructions, Neg P can still be a metalinguistic negation of P if the utterance of ‘SPT Q’ does not constitute a rectification in the canonical sense. Under diagnostic three, there is one important correlate of
metalinguistic negation pointed out by Anscombre and Ducrot (op.cit), which I did not list, and that is the possibility of replacing ‘mais-sn Q’ by paratactic syntax with no overt conjunction. Although SPT cannot be replaced by mais-sn, since the correction does not occur at the same level, ‘SPT Q’ can be replaced by a paratactic clause. Thus, alongside (30), one can have:

(31) Ce n’est pas qu’il ait quelque chose à me dire: il a besoin d’une voiture pour demain.
It’s not that he has something to tell me: he needs a car for tomorrow.

The acceptability of (31) as a paraphrase for (30) I take to be an indication that SPT can be preceded by metalinguistic negation.

Having explained why existing diagnostics do not always work for SPT, I propose to turn to those that do work. Once the notion of rectification has been put into perspective, what remains of ‘core features’ of metalinguistic negation are: a) the fact that it constitutes an objection to a prior utterance; and b) that the truth value of P plays no role in its rejection. The first point has already been taken care of by diagnostic two, so let’s turn to the second. Consider again (1) to (4) (repeated in (32) to (35)). The claim that the truth value of P plays no role in its rejection is supported by the fact that Neg P is compatible with a continuation which unambiguously forces this reading on the string:

(32)
Ce n’est pas qu’elle soit froide – ou pas froide d’ailleurs/ elle est même gelée/quoiqu’elle le soit, effectivement – simplement je n’ai pas faim.
It’s not that it is cold – or not cold, for that matter/ it is even frozen/although it is cold – it’s just that I am not hungry.

(33)
Ce n’est pas que je ne veuille pas la voir – ou que je le veuille d’ailleurs/ même si en fait je veux la voir – simplement suis fatigué.
It’s not that I don’t want to see her – or want to, for that matter/even if in actual fact, I do want to see her – it’s just that I am tired.

(34)
Ce n’est pas qu’ils aient trois enfants – ou même quatre/d’ailleurs ils n’en ont pas – simplement ils préfèrent travailler le soir.
It’s not that they have three children – or even four/ as a matter of fact, they don’t have any – it’s just that they prefer to work in the evening.

(35)
Ce n’est pas qu’il ne mange plus de caviar – ou qu’il en mange encore, d’ailleurs / en fait il n’en a jamais mangé/ quoique cela demande à être vérifié – simplement ses investissements sont tombés en chute libre.
It’s not that he no longer eats caviar – or that he still eats it, for that matter/ as a matter of fact he has never eaten it/ although that remains to be seen – it’s just that his investments have taken a nose dive.

Matters, however, are less straightforward with other realizations of Neg P. Nonetheless, there is a type of continuation that appears to work for all cases involved, and that is ‘la question n’est pas là’ (‘that’s not the point’). Thus this continuation would be compatible with (5) to (7) (repeated in (36) to (38)), as well as (1) to (4):

(36)
On les soutient à 100% – là n’est pas la question – simplement cela commence compliquer la vie de tous les jours.
We are 100% behind them – that’s not the point – it’s just that it is beginning to make everyday life difficult.

(37)
Il est tout ce qu’il y a de plus inintéressant – là n’est pas la question – simplement les enfants ont insisté pour le voir.
It is totally uninteresting – that’s not the point – it’s just that the children insisted on going.

(38)
Le combat est loin d’être achevé – là n’est pas la question – simplement il n’a plus le visage d’une action collective.
The struggle is far from over – that’s not the point – it’s just that it no longer involves collective action.

3. Neg P SPT Q
On the basis of what we have just seen, it would appear that the grounds on which P is being rejected have nothing to do its truth value, but rather with the fact that it belongs to a category of causes which is deemed irrelevant. If we were now to assume that Q is introduced by SPT as an appropriate substitute for P, then the question of the relationship between P and Q will have to be posed. But first we need to specify what a situation schema for Neg P SPT Q would include.

Consider (2) again. The prior event E could be B’s lack of enthusiam at the prospect of inviting Marie. A’s question presupposes P (=/tu ne veux pas voir Marie/) which expresses a cause C1 for E. In saying ‘ce n’est pas que je ne veuille pas la voir’, B is objecting to P on grounds that whether or not he wants to see her is beside the point. In proceeding with ‘simplement je suis fatigué’, B purports to provide the actual cause C2 for his lack of enthusiasm, a cause which is presented as ‘simpler, in the sense of ‘socially more acceptable’. (With the right assumptions in place, A’s question could be construed as an indirect accusation, and B’s ‘SPT Q’, as an attempt to show that the actual cause for E is less incriminating than what A had supposed. In any case, the mere fact of presenting Q as simpler creates an implicature that A should have known it all along, hence the value of reproach which could be associated with the use of SPT).

A situation schema for this type of construction would then have to include a prior event E, a presumed or actual proposal P of A’s, that C1 is the cause of E, and a rejection of P on the part of S, to be followed by a proposal Q that C2 is the cause of E, with C2 being presented as ‘simpler’ than C1. In addition, it would have to cater for the fact that ‘Ce n’est pas que P’ gives rise to a paradigm, and ‘SPT Q’ to a scale. The paradigm arises in the sense that one cannot fully understand the negation, unless one can sort out what it cannot be taken as not meaning, no matter how incidental this might be. As for the scale, it is presupposed by SPT, which presents the category of causes that includes C2 as outranking the one that includes C1, in terms of appropriateness and simplicity. Both appropriateness and simplicity are relational properties of causes, with the former highlighting their relation to E, and the latter, their relation to the speech participants. Simplicity, as envisaged here, should be taken to mean ‘obvious’, to cater for the interrelational aspect of SPT: to say ‘SPT Q’ is to presuppose, to varying degrees, that Q should be obvious to A.

In (2), the paradigm triggered by ‘ce n’est pas que P’ would include values such as:

– J’ai toujours plaisir à la voir.
– I always enjoy seeing her.

– (quoique) je ne suis/sois pas sûr de vouloir la voir.
– (although) I am not sure I want to see her.

– Cela m’est indifférent de la voir ou non.
– I don’t mind one way or another.

Each of which functions as an indirect denial that P is being rejected on grounds of its truth value, and can provide an appropriate, albeit parenthetical, continuation to ‘ce n’est pas que P’. As for the scale, it would exhibit, at one end, the category of causes that includes P and ~P ( /je veux la voir/, /je ne veux pas la voir/), and, at the other, the one to which Q (/je suis fatigué/) belongs.

Paradigm and scale together constitute a two step correction process, with the paradigm providing a rejection of a descriptive interpretation of Neg P, and the scale providing a value for its metalinguistic interpretation.

4. Relationship between P and Q
The question of the relationship between P and Q (or rather the causes they express) naturally arises because of the contrast presented by examples such as (39) and (40), both of which are S’s responses to A’s question:

A:
John semble avoir beaucoup d’argent.
John seems to have a lot of money.

(39)
S: ? Ce n’est pas qu’il travaille pour la CIA, simplement il fait partie de MI5.
? It’s not that he works for the CIA, it’s just that he is a member of MI5.

(40)
Ce n’est pas qu’il travaille pour la CIA, simplement sa famille est très aisée.
It’s not that he works for the CIA, it’s just that he comes from a well-off background.

This contrast would appear to indicate that there is a constraint at work, one which requires that C1 and C2 should belong to the same category of causes. This finds corroboration in the oddity of (41), which involves gradual predicates:

(41)
*Ce n’est pas que ses mains soient gelées, simplement elles sont froides.
*It’s not that his hands are frozen, it’s just that they are cold.

To be acceptable (41) would require a context where ‘froid’ could be construed as part of an unrelated scale, and a member of a category that could be opposed to that of ‘gelé’ and ‘pas gelé’. In other words, SPT in this case would have the effect of ‘dislocating’ a natural scale. Note, however, that the level of acceptability improves markedly if C1 and C2, though thematically part of the same category, belong on opposite scales, e.g. that of heat and that of cold, as in:

(42)
Ce n’est pas que ce soit froid, simplement c’est tiède.
It’s not that it is cold, it’s just that it is lukewarm.

Furthermore, if one remains within the same scale, a dislocation would appear to be easier if C1 and C2 are not adjacent. Thus, although both (43) and (44) involve the epistemic scale, (43) seems to be more acceptable than (44):

(43)
Ce n’est pas que ce soit certain, simplement c’est possible.
It’s not that it is certain, it’s just that it is possible.

(44)
*? Ce n’est pas que ce soit certain, simplement c’est probable.
*? It’s not that it is certain, it’s just that it is probable.

As for non gradual cases, (45) gives some idea of how close C1 and C2 can be and still be appropriately used with SPT:

(45)
Ce n’est pas que je ne veuille pas inviter Marie, simplement j’aimerais inviter quelqu’un d’autre.
It’s not that I don’t want to invite Marie; it’s just that I would like to invite someone else.

In a context where there can only be one guest at a time, this gives an impression of backtracking on the part of S. However, closer scrutiny reveals that, although inviting someone else also necessarily excludes inviting Marie, the fact of the matter is not whether Marie should be invited, but whether there is someone else S wants to invite. That inviting someone else should exclude inviting Marie is incidental. In other words, what separates C1 and C2 (or rather their respective categories) can simply be a matter of focus. The fact that a sheer difference in focus qualifies as a relevant distinction appears to be behind a frequent strategic use of SPT, one which enables S to maintain contradictory stances by introducing ‘hair splitting’ differences. Consider (5) again, where S, while objecting to the idea that he is against the strike appears to be preparing the grounds for withdrawn his support. A further example is (26), where S may be perceived as wanting her cake and eating it too:

(46)
Ce n’est pas que le combat pour la parité soit achevé, simplement maintenant c’est chacune pour soi.
It’s not that the struggle for equality is over; it’s just that now it is each woman for herself.

In this case the difference between C1 and C2 is one between a process and how it is carried out.

One last point needs to be raised about the situation schema. So far my main concern has been with Xs that include an overt negative element. What about cases like (5), where X is an affirmative clause, and the value for what S cannot be taken as not meaning (¬P) is clearly stated? Surely (5) can hardly be said to give rise to any paradigm of possible values for ¬P ? My proposal is to view ‘on les soutient à 100%’ as an element of the paradigm itself, but one whose selection and materialization has rendered the rest of the paradigm less accessible. The underlying situation schema for (5) would not start with a value for ¬ P, but a rejection of P (which might have been realized as ‘ce n’est pas qu’on ne les soutienne pas’), to be followed by a paradigm of possible values for ¬P, from which ‘on les soutient à 100% would be chosen.

As my final point, I propose to turn to a possible objection: if SPT requires a metalinguistic negation, how come the same environments can accept mais-pa? This objection is based on the assumption that the elements to be contrasted are the same in both cases, which is debatable. Consider:

(47)
Ce n’est pas qu’on ne les soutienne pas, simplement cela commence à compliquer la vie de tous les jours.

(48)
Ce n’est pas qu’on ne les soutienne pas, mais-pa cela commence à compliquer la vie de tous les jours.

The appropriate gloss for (48) would be: It is not that we don’t support them, but from the fact that we are rejecting the idea that we might not support them one is not to infer r (i.e. that we will continue to support them indefinitely), the reason being Q. An alternative way of analyzing (48) that shows that mais-pa is not directly concerned with the metalinguistic negation involves the use of the situation schema. Consider:

(49) Ce n’est pas qu’on ne les soutienne pas–on les soutient à 100% – (see: illustration)

ISSA1998-page-609

In (49) where the value to be attributed to ¬P is made explicit in Z (a value, incidentally, which is to be associated with a descriptive interpretation of the negation), it is the latter that makes a more convincing candidate for what precedes mais-pa. To wrap up this argument, one might say that the assumption behind this objection is that we are dealing with the Neg P mais-pa Q construction, when in fact the relevant one is simply P mais-pa Q. The surface structure may contain a metalinguistic negation, but the latter is not on the same level as mais-pa.

5. Conclusion
While much about SPT has been left untouched, the following points emerge which have a direct bearing on the study of argumentation. As a metalinguistic operator construed in procedural terms (as opposed to distributional ones), SPT brings further support to the idea, inherent in Anscombre and Ducrot’s Argumentation Theory, that language constitutes a possible source for patterns of reasoning and inferential routes. Furthermore, the fact that it gives rise to a paradigm and a scale provides some insight into how evaluation contexts are constructed. From a strategic standpoint, while the use of SPT suffices to constrain A’s inferential routes and delay the construction of her own context of evaluation, thinking in procedural terms caters for a further form of manipulation: the fact that a situation schema is being projected on available contents (as opposed to the actual context and cotext being assessed for their level of appropriateness) means that C2s that would not normally qualify as simpler or as belonging to a distinct category from C1s can, nevertheless, be presented as meeting those criteria – albeit to varying degrees.

REFERENCES
Anscombre, J.C., Ducrot, O. (1977). Deux mais en Français? Lingua 43, 23-40.
Horn, L.R. (1985). Metalinguistic negation and pragmatic ambiguity. Language 61(1), 121-174.
Horn, L.R. (1989). A Natural History of Negation. Chicago: Chicago University Press.
Nyan, T. (1998). Metalinguistic Operators, with reference to French. Berne: Peter Lang.
Nyan, T. (1998).Vers un schéma de la différence.To appear in Journal of French Language Studies.
Plantin,C. (1978) Deux mais. Semantikos 2 (2-3),89-93.




ISSA Proceedings 1998 – Reductionism In Fallacy Theory

ISSAlogo19981. What Does “Reduction of Fallacy Theory” Mean?
The Scope of this Paper
In contemporary theory of argumentation fallacy theory has become a subdiscipline on its own, rather separated from positive and systematic approaches to establishing criteria for good arguments. This at first glance is a bit strange, and another approach seems to be more natural: First there should be a positive theory of good arguments, among others, providing exact criteria for good arguments; then ‘fallacy’ should be defined as an argument not complying with these criteria; finally, there should be a systematization and explanation of fallacies in relation to those criteria. And given the historical fact of a wealth of fallacy theory, an additional task should be: to define exactly and to explain the falsity of all traditionally known and scrutinized types of fallacies with respect to the criteria for good arguments (and the justification of such criteria), or to reject their assumed fallaciousness, and to decide open questions in fallacy theory. This project I call the “reduction of fallacy theory”.
The advantages of such a reduction are rather obvious: The explanation why something is a fallacy is not ad hoc but justified by a positive theory of arguments; there are exact criteria for dividing fallacious from correct arguments; a complete systematization of fallacies may be developed; etc. But up to now there are only few attempts at a reduction of fallacy theory. One reason for this is the poor state of positive argumentation theory itself, viz that there are even less attempts to develop exact criteria for the correctness not only of deductive arguments but of several other types of arguments and arguments in general as well. Even existing endeavours to reduce fallacy theory are suffering from this disease, e.g. the pragma-dialectical approach.[i]
I have developed such a positive theory of arguments, the “practical theory of arguments”, which provides exact criteria for the correctness of several types of arguments and for arguments in general and which gives epistemological reasons for these criteria.[ii] In what follows I shall sketch a reduction of fallacy theory on the basis of the practical theory of arguments.

2. What are Fallacies? – A Definition of ‘Fallacy’
What do I mean by “fallacy”? A rather common and, I think, completely right idea in current fallacy theory is that logically invalid arguments are not the only type of fallacy and that there are informal fallacies as well. But some important theorists now extend the expression “fallacy” to false moves in discursive dialogical argumentation (e.g. Eemeren / Grootendorst 1995: 136; Walton 1991: 224). Some reasons they offer for this are: Otherwise the purpose of argumentation could not be taken into account (Eemeren / Grootendorst 1995: 133 f.; Walton 1995: 232); only this would allow to treat the pragmatic aspects of arguments and fallacies (Walton 1991: 224). But this is not true: Purposes and pragmatics exist already on the level of monological argumentation when an arguer e.g. in a book presents an argument to an addressee for convincing him. In spite of that prominent account in fallacy theory I use the term “fallacy” exclusively for incorrect arguments or incorrect use of arguments, with “argument” meaning something that consists of a thesis, an indicator of argument and further judgements describing grounds for the thesis; the latter judgements I name “reasons (for the thesis)”. False dialogical moves I call “incorrect debating”; one big subclass of incorrect debating consists of fallacies. I shall restrict my analysis to fallacies in the expounded sense – not denying that we need a theory of correct and incorrect debating too. Theories of correct or incorrect debating presuppose theories of correct argumentation and of fallacies. But these theories instead can be developed independently of those theories; and not all fallacies are forms of incorrect debating, e.g. fallacies in books often are not because they are not part of a debate.

A good starting point for defining “fallacy” is Johnson’s definition: “A fallacy is [1.] an argument [2.] that violates one of the criteria / standards of good argument and [3.] that occurs with sufficient frequency in discourse to warrant being baptized” (Johnson 1995: 116). My main concern about Johnson’s definition is that it does not enclose fallacies consisting of an inadequate use of perhaps good arguments, e.g. presenting an argument with true premises which the addressee does not know to be true. For enclosing these fallacies we must define ‘fallacy’ as a two-adic notion with the situation (consisting of an addressee and the time) being the second variable and introduce a further disjunctive condition that the argument in this situation does not fulfil its standard function. But what is a good argument if not an argument that at least in one situation can fulfil the standard function of arguments? But if the argument can not fulfil the standard function in any situation it can neither in the specified situation. So if we have introduced the disjunctive condition the original condition [2], that the argument must be a good one, is already implied and thus superfluous. – A minor concern is that the frequency of a type of incorrectness should not determine if some sort of incorrectness is a fallacy or not. Therefore I drop Johnson’s condition [3]. The resulting definition then is: x is a fallacy in the situation l (consisting of an addressee h and the time t) iff 1. x is an argument and 2. x in l does not fulfil the standard function of arguments.

3. Positive Theory of Arguments – A Rush through the Practical Theory of Arguments
The definition of ‘fallacy’ which I have just developed is neutral with respect to different positive theories of argumentation in that it does not specify what the standard function of arguments is. This specification must be provided by a positive theory of arguments. Here is not the place for developing and defending such a theory. Instead of this I shall rely on my own practical theory of arguments and sketch some of its main features.
According to the practical theory of arguments, the standard function of arguments is to rationally convince an addressee. And to “rationally convince” means leading the addressee to get the knowledge that the thesis of the argument is acceptable, i.e. true, probable or verisimile. This leading works in such a manner that verbal material is presented to the addressee which he can examine; and if he has examined this material with a positive result he has won the intended knowledge. The material which he has to examine, of course, are the explicit and implicit reasons of the arguments, and the examination consists of checking if these reasons are true. In good argumentation these reasons are chosen in a way that the addressee can immediately check their truth: He already knows that they are true, and he must only remember this; or they are analytically true, and he can immediately recognize this; or they are of a sort that he believes the arguer that they are true.

But why does recognizing the truth of the reasons of correct arguments amount to recognizing the acceptability of the thesis? This is guaranteed by the fact that such arguments are based on epistemological principles, e.g. the deductive epistemological principle: ‘A proposition is true if it is logically implied by true propositions’; or the genesis of knowledge principle: ‘A proposition is true if it has been verified correctly’; or the interpretative epistemological principle: ‘A proposition is true if it is part of the only possible explanation of a known fact’ etc. So epistemological principles are general propositions that propositions are true under certain conditions. There are efficient epistemological principles which when applied really guarantee the acceptability of the thesis; and there are inefficient epistemological principles. It is a task of epistemology to examine and prove the efficiency of epistemological principles; such proofs are ultimately based on the truth definitions of propositions. Of course, good arguments are based only on efficient epistemological principles. And the various types of arguments differ in on what epistemological principle they are based: Deductive arguments are based on the deductive epistemological principle; genesis of knowledge arguments (like arguments from authority) are based on the genesis of knowledge principle etc.

Epistemological principles are general criteria for the acceptability of propositions. For their application in an argument they have to be concretized for the specific thesis, i.e. their variables have to be filled in. If you want to argue deductively for the thesis that Socrates is mortal one concretization of the deductive principle of knowledge (that a proposition is true if it is logically implied by true propositions) might be this: ‘’That Socrates is mortal’ is true if
1. ‘that Socrates is mortal’ is logically implied by ‘all human beings are mortal’ and ‘Socrates is a human being’ and
2. if the latter two propositions are true.’ Such concretizations of principles of knowledge I call “criteria of acceptability”. The art of good arguing consists of finding such criteria of acceptability for a given thesis the conditions of which are fulfilled and by the addressee are known to be fulfilled. An ideal argument then consists of the thesis, an indicator of argument and reasons in which the several conditions of such a criterion of acceptability are judged to be fulfilled.
The ideal version of our example then would be: ‘Socrates is mortal, because 1.1. all human beings are mortal, 1.2. Socrates is a human being, and 2. because these two propositions logically imply that Socrates is mortal.’ The two premisses 1.1 and 1.2 are material reasons, and the last judgement is a formal reason. Of course, most arguments are not that ideal; the formal reason and even material reasons are omitted. But this is not problematic if enough reasons are left over for reconstructing the ideal version.

The process of acquiring knowledge guided by an argument then ideally works in this way: The addressee understands the judgements functioning as reasons and recognizes the underlying principle of knowledge by means of the indicator of argument or with help of other hints. The argument then gives him the criterion of acceptability which the arguer has in mind, or at least gives him so many parts of this criterion that the addressee could reconstruct the complete criterion. The addressee now has to verify if this criterion of acceptability really is a concretization of the principle. Then he has to check if all the conditions of the criterion of acceptability are fulfilled, i.e. if the reasons are acceptable. An argument is suitably chosen for rationally convincing the addressee only if he immediately can check the truth of the reasons. If the results of all these checks are positive he knows the thesis to be acceptable.

According to this analysis, arguments are instruments for rationally convincing by being guides for the acquisition of knowledge. Instruments have to fulfil their standard function; or more precisely: They must be functioning, i.e. they must be able to fulfil their standard function in at least one (specifiable) situation of application; otherwise they are not instruments in the narrow sense but only in the wide sense that someone believes them to be instruments in the narrow sense. But even a functioning instrument is not apt to fulfil its standard function in every situation; it may be inadequate in this situation. All this is true for arguments as well. A functioning argument, i.e. an argument which can fulfil the standard function of arguments in at least one situation, I call “(argumentatively) valid”. Argumentative validity is different from logical validity. In deductive arguments argumentative validity includes logical validity but it also includes the truth of the premisses and more. In non-deductive arguments argumentative validity does not include logical validity. ‘Argumentatively valid’ is a one-adic notion: Arguments are valid or they are not. ‘Adequate’ instead is a three-adic notion: ‘Instrument x is adequate in a situation l for fulfilling the function f.’ But if I speak about the adequacy of arguments I often omit the third variable, presupposing that the standard function of arguments is meant, i.e. to convince rationally. A valid argument may be adequate in one situation but inadequate in another, e.g. if the addressee does not know the reasons to be acceptable. But, according to what I have said about the functioning of instruments, valid arguments must be adequate in at least one situation; this requirement I call “adequacy in principle”. Circular arguments are not adequate in principle and therefore not valid: Nobody could be rationally convinced by such arguments; either he has not yet accepted the thesis, then he has neither accepted one reason of the argument yet, so that he cannot immediately check if all the conditions of the criterion of acceptability are fulfilled; or he has already accepted the thesis, then he cannot get convinced of it by the argument.

4. The General Criteria for the Validity and Adequacy of Arguments
The exposition given so far should suffice for understanding the following definitions of ‘valid argument’ and ‘argument’ in general and the adequacy criterion for arguments. The definition of ‘valid argument’ and the adequacy criterion are the positive criteria on the basis of which the single types of fallacies will be defined.

x is a valid argument, i.e. an argument in the narrow sense :=
A0: Domain of definition: x is a triple i p_,i,q, consisting of
A0.1: a set p_ of judgments a1, a2, …, an,
A0.2: an indicator i of argument, and
A0.3: a judgment q;
a1, …, an (the elements of p_) are called the “reasons for q” and q is called “the thesis of x”.
A1: Indicator of argument: i indicates that x is an argument, that a1, a2, …,an are the reasons and that q is the thesis of x; in addition i can indicate the type of argument, i.e. the epistemological principle the argument is based on.
A2: Guarantee of acceptability: There is an epistemological principle e and a criterion c for the acceptability which fulfil the following conditions:
A2.1: Efficient (epistemological) principle: the epistemological principle e is efficient; and
A2.2: Concretization (of the principle): the criterion c is a concretization of the principle e for the thesis q, and the reasons a1,
a2, …, an are judgments claiming of at least a part of the conditions of c that they are fulfilled; and
A2.3: True reasons: all conditions of c are fulfilled.
A3: Adequacy in principle: x fulfils the standard function of arguments; i.e.: there is a subject s and a time t for which holds:
A3.1: the subject s at the time t is lingustically competent, open-minded, discriminating and doesn’t know a sufficiently strong
justification for the thesis q; and
A3.2: if at t x is presented to s and s closely follows this presentation this will make s know that the thesis q is acceptable; this process of cognition will work as follows: s, using e and c, will recheck – among others – those conditions for the acceptability of the
thesis q which are claimed to be fulfilled in a1, a2, …, an, thereby coming to a positive result. x is an argument (in the broad sense):=
A4.0: Domain of definition: The domain of definition is the same as that of valid arguments.
A4.1: Valid argument: x is a valid argumentation, or
A4.2: Seemingly valid argument: there is a person s and a moment t with s at t believing or (explicitly or implicitly) holding the view that x is a valid argument.

A valid argument x is adequate for rationally convincing an addressee h (hearer) at t of the thesis (q) of x iff condition A5
holds:
A5: Situational adequacy:
A5.1: Rationality of the addressee: The addressee h (at t) is linguistically competent, open-minded, discriminating and does not know a sufficiently strong justification for the thesis q. And
A5.2: Argumentative knowledge (of the addressee):
A5.2.1: The addressee h at t knows at least implicitly the underlying epistemological principle e of the argument x; and
A5.2.2: at t he (h) is able to develop the criterion c of acceptability (which is intimated in x) by means of his knowledge of the principle e if all the reasons of an ideal version of x are presented to him. And
A5.3: Acceptance of the reasons: The addressee h at t knows that the propositions p1, …, pm are true, with p1, …, pm being the conjuncts of the antecedent of the criterion c of acceptability (intimated in x). And
A5.4: Expliciteness: If in the reasons of x not all conditions of the criterion c of acceptability (intimated in x) are claimed to be fulfilled the addressee h at t is able to add the most important conditions of acceptability.
A5.5: Sufficient argumentative power: The criterion c of acceptability (intimated in x) together with the subjective probabilities of the addressee (h at t) that the conditions of c are fulfilled provide a sufficiently high degree of probability of the thesis (q of x) – sufficiently high according to the desires of the addressee (h at t).

5. Fallacies of (Argumentative) Validity
The criteria presented in the last section provide that standards the violation of which lead to fallacies. This means all fallacies are and can be characterized as being violations of at least one of the specified conditions. And the easiest (and perhaps the only) way for arriving at a complete taxonomy of fallacies is to define main groups of fallacies the elements of which violate one of the general conditions for the validity or adequacy of arguments. Then more subgroups or more specific fallacies can be defined following the pattern of genus proximum and differentia specifica where the genus proximum always is a fallacy of the main group. Logically there is no limitation in inventing more and more fine grained types of fallacies. Pragmatically one should define and invent names for special types of fallacies only if their extension is big enough or if it  explains what type of error the fallacy stems from. Doing this one must not look for a further form of (non-trivial) completeness because completeness is already reached on the level of the main groups. Unfortunately, there is no traditional name for any of the main types of fallacies. So please excuse me for having invented names for them; but these names lean on the names for the conditions just outlined. Astonishingly, even for many of the second order types of fallacies we have no traditional names.

Some of the traditionally known fallacies can only be defined in a way that their differentia specifica refers to conditions of the validity or adequacy of specific types of arguments, such as deductive or genesis of knowledge arguments. One such type-specific fallacy is the non sequitur which can occur only in deductive arguments. Defining these type-specific fallacies exactly, requires reference to the positive conditions of the appertaining type of argument. Here is not enough room for specifying these conditions; therefore, the description of these type-specific fallacies here often will be rather sketchy.

But before discussing the single types of fallacies I would like to mention some moves or arguments which according to some theories are treated as “fallacies” but which according to my definition are not. Argumenta ad baculum or a simple ad hominem attack (which I distinguish from an argumentum ad hominem, cf. below) normally not even look like arguments; there is no indicator of argument saying that because of a threat or negative properties of an opponent a thesis is true. They are types of incorrect debating. The dialogical tu quoque, that an opponent points out to the fact that the proponent is acting against his own advices or claiming something which he has earlier denied, is a dialogical move too and, therefore, not an argument; but it is a quite legitimate move which should be understood as a request to the proponent to clear up this contradiction. (Later on I shall discuss an argumentative tu quoque, which is a fallacy.) Finally, argumenta ad verecundiam or ad misericordiam are arguments but as such are not fallacies, though certain forms of them are fallacies.

According to the two types of requirements for good arguing we must distinguish between fallacies of validity, which affect the argument as such and in any situation in which it is used, and fallacies of adequacy, which only can be attributed to the use of an argument in a given situation. The zero-condition for a valid argument (A0) requires that valid arguments must belong to a certain domain of definition. But this condition holds for invalid arguments as well. Because, according to my definition of ‘fallacy’, a fallacy must at least be an argument, there is no fallacy consisting of a violation of condition A0. According to the condition A4.0, even unvalid arguments consist of judgements, i.e. meanings of declarative utterances, (and an indicator of argument) and not of utterances or sentences themselves. That means before arriving at the argument much work of interpretation already may have been done; and a given sequence of utterances may be interpreted in two or more ways, thus providing two or more arguments. Such unclarity of meaning (with its many subforms like equivocation, vagueness etc.) by itself would not be a fallacy but a semantic error, situated on a level already before the level of meaning on which arguments are located; the resulting arguments however may be fallacious. So later on we shall get to know the fallacy of ambiguity, which not consists of the ambiguity itself but of some other distortion resulting from the ambiguity of the utterances used to express the argument.

F1: False indicator: The indicator of argument defines which judgement is the thesis and which judgements are the reasons for it. Therefore, here is not much room for fallaciousness. But an indicator may be false in specifying a different epistemological principle than the argument is actually relying on, e.g. if in a non deductive argument ‘from this follows’ is used.

F2.1: Error of (epistemological) principle: One major class of fallacies consists of arguments relying on no epistemological principle at all (F2.1.1: lack of principle) or on an epistemological principle which is not suited as basis for rational justification. The latter may occur in two ways: The principle appealed to is not efficient (F2.1.2: inefficient principle), or the arguer is alluding to an efficient principle but does not know it exactly and that is why his argument is grossly impaired (F2.1.3: distorted principle). Often it will not be clear to which of these subclasses a given argument belongs: The argument may be so confused that it is difficult to say if the arguer had no principle at all in mind, not even vaguely, or if he was relying on a confused principle; and if he had some form of principle in mind this must not have been a clear one. In such cases the argument itself often does not help very much to answer these questions. Lack of principle is not very interesting theoretically.

F2.1.2: Inefficient (epistemological) principle: Inefficient principles e.g. are: 1. ‘If x and y are analogous with respect to F1, …, Fn they are also analogous with respect to Fn+1.’ That two things are analogous in certain respects is only a heuristic that they are analogous in further respects but no proof. 2. ‘If an event e has very negative consequences then it cannot happen.’ 3. ‘If an opponent s holds that p but earlier has held that not p then not p is true.’ Arguments based on these epistemological principles are fallacies and are called: 1. “argument from analogy”, 2. “argumentum ad consequentiam”, 3. “tu quoque-argument”, respectively.

F2.1.3: Distorted (epistemological) principle: The standard case of the fallacy of distorted principle is not that the arguer has a specific principle in mind but that he has only some vague idea of how one could argue; and this idea gets some backing by its resemblance to an efficient principle. Most often important parts are lacking, which would be necessary for the validity of the argument; this type of the fallacy of distorted principle could be called “grossly insufficient evidence”. E.g. a practical argument pleading for a certain alternative may contain reasons which could only prove that this alternative has positive value; i.e. the comparison to other alternatives is completely missing. Or in an interpretative argument the fact that a set of hypotheses would explain some known fact is already taken as a proof that these hypotheses are true; i.e. the comparison with other possible explanations and the consideration of their probabilities is missing. The fallacies just described have no traditional names (though the last one in modern psychological literature is named “baseline fallacy”); but there are some types of arguments from distorted principles with conventional names. For some of them one can construct the distorted epistemological principles they seem to appeal to: The argumentum ad hominem seems to rely on the principle: ‘If subject s is not reliable or a bad person and s holds that p then p is false.’ Here one can find elements of a (negative) genesis of knowledge principle. The emotional argumentum ad personam or appeal to emotion seems to reason from the principle: ‘If somebody s desires / appreciates that p and q would imply or make it more probable that p then it would be optimum for s to make efforts that p.’ This would be a distorted version of a practical principle. Another type of practical argument with grossly insufficient evidence is the narrowing argumentum ad misericordiam which unduly ignores other relevant aspects of the considered alternative. The fallacious argumentum ad ignorantiam, which simply appeals to the principle: ‘If it is not known / proved / … that not p, then p.’, is a case of grossly insufficient evidence in the domain of genesis of knowledge arguments. And hasty generalization is a form of grossly insufficient evidence in the domain of generalizing arguments.

F2.2: False concretization: Conretizing a principle of knowledge means to fill in its variables with singular terms in such a way that the same variables must be substituted by the same singular terms; and this may go wrong. There are three main classes of such false concretization:

1. F2.2.1: Insufficient evidence: At least one reason which, according to a correct concretization, must be part of the argument is missing. In a deductive argument this occurs in the form that one premise which, according to the judgement on the logical implication, is necessary is not contained by the argument: ‘p1&…&pnªq; p1; …; pn-1; therefore, q.’ Insufficient evidence is different from enthymematic argument: The missing reason, according to the rules of enthymematic argument, may not be omitted. But because in valid deductive arguments the judgement on the logical implication may be dropped we often cannot decide if the argument is a case of insufficient evidence, false reason or non sequitur. In non-deductive arguments there are less problems of differentiation.

2. F2.2.2: Ignoratio elenchi: The reasons are reasons for a different thesis than that of the argument. In the deductive case we have an argument of the form: ‘p1&…&pnªq; p1; …; pn; therefore, r.’ Subtypes of the ignoratio elenchi are the straw man fallacy (the thesis of the argument is that a certain claim or theory is false; but what is actually criticized is a different claim or theory) and fallacious ambiguity of the thesis with its subforms fallacious equivocation and fallacious amphiboly (i.e. the ignoratio results from the fact that the expression of the thesis has two meanings, one actually being the thesis and the other being argued for).

F2.2.3: Missing fit: One intension which, according to the epistemological principle, should be held identical in two places in the reasons of the argument actually is exchanged. The deductive version of missing fit looks like this: ‘p1&…&pnªq; p1; …; pn-1; r; therefore, q.’ In the deductive argument the intensions which are exchanged, against the principle, are complete propositions; in other arguments these may be only parts of propositions, e.g. numbers in practical or probabilistic arguments. A subtype of missing fit is fallacious ambiguity of the reasons (again with the subforms of fallacious equivocation and fallacious amphiboly of the reasons); in this case the missing fit stems from the fact that some expression for the reasons has two meanings; one meaning occurs in one part of the argument, the other meaning in another part, though it should be the same meaning.

F2.3: False reason: The reasons of an ideal argument are judgements that the propositions p1, …, pn are true where p1, …, pn are all the conditions of a criterion of acceptability for the thesis. If one of these reasons actually is not true the argument cannot support the thesis. A traditionally known fallacy which is a subtype of the fallacy of false reason is a certain form of the argumentum ad populum which I call “emotional argumentum ad populum”: The reason is false but popular and it is already accepted by the addressee. Another subtype of this kind is the descriptive argumentum ad personam: The reason is false, and the arguer knows it, but the addressee accepts the reason. These two types of fallacies do not refer to any specific type of reason; other subtypes of false reason however do. The reasons which can be part of an argument are quite heterogeneous. But a good first distinction is that between formal and material reasons; formal reasons should be analytically true and they judge the structural conditions of the criterion of acceptability to be fulfilled. The formal reason of a deductive argument is the judgement that the premises logically imply the thesis; of course, this formal reason usually is omitted. The material reasons in a deductive argument are the single premises, including the implicit premises. The deductive version of the fallacy of false formal reason then is the non sequitur (with many subforms like affirming the consequent or denying the antecedent); and the deductive version of the fallacy of false material reason is the fallacy which could be named “false premise”; one special case of such a false premise is post hoc ergo propter hoc. Non-deductive arguments  have a more complex structure than deductive; therefore for the non-deductive arguments we have much more (type-specific) subtypes of the fallacy of false reason, though there are only few traditional names for them: e.g. appeal to false authority, which occurs in genesis of knowledge arguments and means that the (implicit) material reason that the witness being the source of the thesis is an expert in this field is false. A special case of appeal to false authority is the form of the argumentum ad populum which I call “winning argumentum ad populum”: The argument tries to win a not yet convinced addressee for supporting the thesis by pointing out the popularity of the thesis; i.e. the populus is taken as an authority.

F3: Fundamental inadequacy: “Fundamental inadequacy” means that an argument though it may fulfil all the other validity conditions is not apt to lead anybody in the standard way to a new and rational conviction. Of course, the most prominent type of fundamental inadequacy is circular reasoning, one necessary reason – this may be an implicit reason – of the argument being identical with the thesis. Often circular reasoning is identified with the petitio principii or begging the question. But I would like to distinguish a strict petitio, which is identical with an explicit circularity and which is a fallacy of validity, from the soft petitio, which is a fallacy of adequacy and will be treated below. I had introduced the requirement of non-circularity with instrumental reasons: If an argument is circular there is no situation where it could be used as an instrument for rationally convincing somebody of the thesis who is not already convinced (s. above and Lumer 1990: 55 f.; 68-70). A criterion for the strict deductive petitio exactly on this line has been formulated by Jacquette and interpreted and defended by McGrath: A deductive “argument begs the question if it contains a premise which it is not possible to be justified in believing unless one is also justified in believing in the conclusion” (McGrath 1995: 351; cf. Jacquette 1993: 322). This criterion leaves open if there are instances of the strict petitio different from formal circularity. But I conjecture that there are not: If the suspicious reason is different but quite similar to the thesis and even if it seems too natural to justify the reason starting from the thesis and not vice versa, e.g. in the case of ‘p&q‘ being the reason and ‘p‘ being the thesis, one might have arrived at the reason on a justified but unusual way, e.g. by an argument from authority, which does not take the route via the thesis.[iii] But apart from circular reasoning there are other forms of fundamental indadequacy: absolute shortness, i.e. the argument does not provide enough information for putting an experienced addressee in a position to unproblematically, i.e. using standard techniques of interpretation, complete the argument to an ideal argument. There is a difference between only inspiring an intelligent addressee to find the complete argument and providing him with sufficient information for constructing the complete version according to standard rules of interpretation. Only the latter form of argument is valid. Another form of fundamental inadequacy is disarray: Ideal arguments may contain very different forms of reasons
and closed subsets of reasons which should be arranged in a connected way. Otherwise the addressee cannot be guided by the argument in recognizing the acceptability of the thesis.

6. Fallacies of Adequacy
F5.1: False rationality: Arguments are instruments for rationally convincing people. But if an addressee in the specific situation is not rational in the specified sense of A5.1 (i.e. not linguistically competent, not open-minded, not discriminating or does already know a sufficiently strong justification for the thesis), then it is useless to present to him an argument with the aim of convincing him.

F5.2: Excessive (argumentative) demand: A similar form of inadequacy is excessive argumentative demand: The addressee does not know the underlying epistemological principle, or the argument is too difficult for him to be followed.

F5.3: Unaccepted reason: Adequate use of arguments for rationally convincing presupposes that the addressee already knows the reasons of the ideal version of the argument to be true; “already” here shall include an acquisition of that knowledge in the moment of arguing. The knowledge must rely on some sort of justification, but this justification may be rather weak. If the reasons e.g. report only facts rather simple to verify the addressee may accept them because they are claimed by the arguer and because he trusts the arguer in this respect. If the addressee does not know one necessary (implicit or explicit) reason to be true even in this weak form then I speak of an “unaccepted reason”, which is a fallacy of adequacy. The most prominent subtype of unaccepted reason is the soft petitio principii. Walton is right in arguing (with the help of a good example) that the same argument may be petitious in one situation but not in another (cf. Walton 1995: 230-233) – but this is true only of the soft petitio. And it is difficult to spell out the conditions of a soft petitio. I do it this way: An argument x with the thesis q is a soft petitio principii in the situation l if x contains an unaccepted reason (in the sense just explained) a and 1. the (for the addressee) most obvious attempts to find a valid and adequate argument for (the unknown reason) a all contain the thesis q as reason, or 2. the unknown reason a is similar to the thesis and the (for the addressee) most obvious attempts to find a valid and adequate argument for a are to a great extent identical with the (for the addressee) most obvious attempts to find a valid and adequate argument for the thesis q itself, in particular they contain some same unknown reason. The point of this definition is not to refer to absolute possibilities of justification for the unaccepted reason, but to possibilities of justification which are at hand for the addressee. These possibilities may be different for different addressees.

F5.4: Relative shortness: One of the fallacies of validity was absolute shortness. ‘Absolute shortness’ is defined with respect to an expert. But what is a not too short version of an argument for an expert might be still too short for an addressee not being an expert: He cannot follow the argument in the sense of being able to fill in the omitted reasons. The argument then is an instance of relative shortness.

F5.5: Unaccepted weakness: Arguments differ in strength, i.e. the resulting degree of subjective probability which they can provide for their respective theses may be quite different. If the resulting subjective probability is to low with respect to the degree desired by the addressee using this argument is an instance of the fallacy of unaccepted weakness. Low probability of the thesis stems from the low probability of the reasons, which then is transferred to the thesis. Genesis of knowledge arguments, and arguments from authority in particular, are notoriously weak arguments; they are always considerably weaker than the direct argument or verification they are reporting on. In many situations in science the strongest available evidence is demanded. Then arguing from authority, which is one level more indirect, hence weaker, than the argument developed by the authority himself, is an instance of unaccepted weakness, which can be named “false appeal to authority” (which is different from appeal to false authority).

I am at the end of my rush through the main groups of fallacies, which are defined following the positive conditions for the validity and adequacy of arguments, given by the practical theory of arguments. I hope to have shown that taking this theory as basis the reduction of fallacy theory works and provides reasonable and exact definitions also of the major types of traditionally known fallacies.

NOTES
[i] For a critique from an epistemic point of view see: Siegel / Biro 1995: 290-294.
[ii] The general theory is developed in: Lumer 1990a. An English description of some main ideas is: Lumer 1991; a German analogue is: Lumer 1990b. Lumer 1992 and Lumer 1995 are extensions and applications of the general theory to further special types of arguments. Lumer 1988 treats the application of the theory in a theory of dialogical argumentation.
[iii] Walton holds that not all forms of circular reasoning are fallacious; and he defends this view with several examples. But, I think, none of these examples is correct: 1. In the case of the economist (Walton 1995: 233 f.), if he really wants to defend his factual claim that people are leaving the state by pointing to the poor economy, so if this really shall be an argument, then it is fallacious. This does not exclude that the same sequence of sentences is a valid explanation. 2. When only proving the equivalence of A and B by proving that A implies B and vice versa (Walton 1995: 234) one does not use A as a reason, one does not affirm A to be true even if one uses the formula ‘suppose A to be true’. The reasons in such arguments instead are judgements on implications, e.g.: ‘A -> C1; C1 -> C2; …; Cn -> B; therefore, A -> B’ etc. So in this case there is no circularity. 3. If we have independent reasons for R and then additionally want to defend R in a circular way (Walton 1995: 236), this second argument is fallacious; it gives no further evidence for R and cannot raise its probability. – But Walton is right in claiming that the same argument may beg the question in one situation but not in another. This may occur in cases of the soft
petitio, which is a fallacy of adequacy (cf. below).

REFERENCES
Eemeren, F. H. van & R. Grootendorst (1984). Speech Acts in Argumentative Discussions. A Theoretical Model for the Analysis of Discussions Directed towards Solving Conflicts of Opinion. Dordrecht / Cinnaminson: Foris.
Eemeren, F. H. van & R. Grootendorst (1992). Argumentation, Communication, and Fallacies. A Pragma-Dialectical Perspective. Hillsdale, NJ / Hove / London: Erlbaum.
Eemeren, F. H. van & R. Grootendorst (1995). The Pragma-Dialectical Approach to Fallacies. In: H. V. Hansen & R. C. Pinto (eds.), Fallacies. Classical and Contemporary Readings (pp. 130-144, Ch. 9), University Park, Pennsylvania: Pennsylvania State University Press.
Hamblin, Ch. L. (1970). Fallacies. London: Methuen.
Jacquette, D. (1993). Logical dimensions of question-begging argument. American Philosophical Quarterly 30, 317-327.
Johnson, R. H. (1995). The Blaze of her Splendors. Suggestions about Revitalizing Fallacy Theory. In: H. V. Hansen & R. C. Pinto (eds.), Fallacies. Classical and Contemporary Readings (pp. 107-119, ch. 7), University Park, Pennsylvania: Pennsylvania State University Press.
Lumer, Ch. (1988). The Disputation. A Special Type of Cooperative Argumentative Dialogue. Argumentation 2, 441-464.
Lumer, Ch. (1990a). Praktische Argumentationstheorie. Theoretische Grundlagen, praktische Begründung und Regeln wichtiger Argumentationsarten. Braunschweig: Vieweg.
Lumer, Ch. (1990b). Argumentation, Argumentationstheorie. In: H. J. Sandkühler (ed.), Europäische Enzyklopädie zu Philosophie und Wissenschaften. Vol. 1 (pp. 246-255), Hamburg: Meiner.
Lumer, Ch. (1991). Structure and Function of Argumentations. An Epistemological Approach to Determining Criteria for the Validity and Adequacy of Argumentations. In: F. H. van Eemeren [et al.] (eds.), Proceedings of the Second International Conference on Argumentation. Organized by the International Society for the Study of Argumentation (ISSA) at the University of Amsterdam, June 19-22, 1990 (pp. 98-107), Amsterdam: Sicsat.
Lumer, Ch. (1992). Handlungstheoretisch erklärende Interpretationen als Mittel der semantischen Bedeutungsanalyse. In: L. Danneberg & F. Vollhardt (eds.), Vom Umgang mit Literatur und Literaturgeschichte. Positionen und Perspektiven nach der “Theoriedebatte” (pp. 75-113), Stuttgart: Metzler.
Lumer, Ch. (1995). Practical Arguments for Theoretical Theses. In: F. H. van Eemeren [et al.] (ed.), Analysis and Evaluation. Proceedings of the Third ISSA Conference on Argumentation. (University of Amsterdam, June 21-24, 1994.) Vol. II (pp. 91-101), Amsterdam: Sicsat. – Revised reprint: (1997) Argumentation 11, 329-340.
McGrath, P. J. (1995). When do deductive arguments beg the question? In: F. H. van Eemeren [et al.] (eds.), Analysis and Evaluation. Proceedings of the Third ISSA Conference on Argumentation. Vol. II (pp. 345-352), Amsterdam: Sic Sat.
Siegel, H. & J. Biro (1995). Epistemic normativity, argumentation, and fallacies. In: F. H. van Eemeren [et al.] (eds.), Analysis and Evaluation. Proceedings of the Third ISSA Conference on Argumentation. Vol. II (pp. 286-299), Amsterdam: Sic Sat.
Tindale, Ch. W. (1995). Walton and the standard treatment. In: F. H. van Eemeren [et al.] (eds.), Analysis and Evaluation. Proceedings of the Third ISSA Conference on Argumentation. Vol. II (pp. 274-285), Amsterdam: Sic Sat.
Walton, D. (1985). Are Circular Arguments Necessary Vicious? American Philosophical Quarterly 22, 263-274.
Walton, D. (1991). Begging the question. Circular Reasoning as a Tactic of Argumentation. New York: Greenwood Press.
Walton, D. (1994). Begging the question as a pragmatic fallacy. Synthese 100, 95-131.
Walton, D. (1995). The Essential Ingredients of the Fallacy of Begging the Question. In: H. V. Hansen & R. C. Pinto (eds.), Fallacies. Classical and Contemporary Readings (pp. 229-239, ch. 16), University Park, Pennsylvania: Pennsylvania State University Press.




ISSA Proceedings 1998 – Arguing Emotions

ISSAlogo1998These reflections on emotions in rhetorical argumentative discourse build on Walton’s pioneer work while re-evaluating the role of emotion in argument. First, I’ll list some important questions which, nevertheless, can’t be dealt with here since they would go beyond my present scope. Second, I’ll present the general framework of the study ; third, I’ll propose a method permitting a systematical treatment of emotion in some kind of discourses, and, by way of conclusion, I’ll give a brief illustration.

In the discussion, I’ll use the following two examples (these texts are analyzed more fully in Plantin, to appear a, b, c.) :
– A militant text about Ex-Yugoslavia, entitled “Sarajevo : Citizenship Assassinated” [Sarajevo : La citoyenneté assassinée]. This text constructs in an ideal audience, emotions ranging from apathy to pride, via shame. It is a classical written rhetorical address, delivered by a leader of a democratic movement ICE “Citizens Initiative in Europe” [Initiative des Citoyens en Europe], calling for democratic action and intervention in Ex-Yugoslavia. This address, which will be referred to as (D1), introduces a leaflet entitled “Ex-Yugoslavia – Proceedings of the Third ICE Meeting, Ecole Normale Supérieure, Ulm Street, Paris, December 1992”  [Ex-Yougoslavie – Compte-rendu de la troisième rencontre ICE, ENS Ulm, Paris, décembre 1992].
– A paper from the newspaper Le Figaro (moderate wing of the right) February 13, 1997, about the evolution of the structure of the French population since the beginning of this century : more and more people live in town, less and less people in the country. As shown by the title “The empty parts of France : the frightening figures” [La France du vide : les chiffres qui font peur], this text exemplifies the rhetorical construction of fear ; it will be referred to as (D2).

1. Preliminary questions
To investigate the emotional involvement of participants in a communicative event would be a whole program, maybe a domain, in itself. It goes without saying that essential problems can’t be touched here, such as :
– The problem of the universality of so-called basic emotions : are they universal or language and culture specific ?
– The connection emotion – action.
– The conceptual / terminological distinction between emotion, affect, feeling, or psychological state. All these terms will be used indifferently in this paper, “emotion” being considered as an “umbrella term”.
– The question of emotion as drawing a dividing line between rhetorical studies and argumentation studies won’t be tackled, either as a conceptual question or as a historical legacy.
– and finally, the problem of the evaluation of “emotional interventions”.[i]
We’ll focus on the discursive / rhetorical dimension of emotion.

2. A basic situation : dissenting about emotions
If we turn now to the general framework, one fundamental point must be made first.[ii]  Some situations or events are intrinsically perceived as “emotional”, for example dangerous and fearful (imagine a big truck speeding towards you). In other situations the same information, linguistic or perceptual, doesn’t elicit the same emotional reaction : One person may feel nothing while the other may overreact ; it’s an individual matter, rather like a musical event. Consequently, some psychologists (though not all) argue that there is a cognitive component in emotion. Thinking of the link language-cognition, a rough formulation of our research question would be : are there linguistic counterparts or correlates of this cognitive component ? Such a program can build on a whole set of research in pragmatics, pyschology, discourse analysis and grammar. The following ones are particularly interesting : Cosnier (1994) ; Scherer (1984a, 1984b) ; Caffi & Janney (1994) ; Ungerer ; Balibar-Mrabti (1995). Classical rhetoric should appear right on the top of this list (Lausberg, 1960) : actually, it is very often possible to trace back some modern “principle of inferencing” or “emotional axis”, or “cognitive facet” to some well-known old rhetorical topos or rhetorical recipe. So, to use Scherer’s words, I would say that I’m interested in the structure of the linguistic component of emotions. Now, this is a very general theme, how is it related to argumentation studies ?

Argument will be considered as basically a discursive activity, developping in specific languages and cultures[iii]. Argumentative interactions and addresses are very good objects to start with when one studies emotion in discourse, for two reasons. First because in argumentative discourse, people are deeply involved in what they say, maybe even more than in any other form of discourse. There is a striking discrepancy between the rich emotional texture of argumentative discourse – and the poverty, the lack of systematicity of the tools at our disposal to deal with this texture.

The second reason is that argument supposes a dissensus ; once again, contradiction makes us see something interesting. Example :
(1)
A : – I’m afraid !
B : – Me too !

B assents to A’s utterance and shares her feelings. The temptation here is to consider that these two people agree just because the situation is frightening in itself : they share the situation, they have the same perceptual system, a causal process took place, producing fear in these two people; so their common fear seems to be perceptually/physically induced by the situation. Now, dissensus reveals that such is not obligatorily the case :
(2)
A : – I’m not afraid
B : – You should be !

Disagreement is linguistically richer than agreement. B’s dissenting utterance opens up on a justificatory sequence : now B has to explain why she disagrees. In other words, B has to argue for her emotion.[iv] Under its most general definition, argumentative discourse is a discourse supporting a thesis, something one should believe ; or a discourse providing reasons for something one should do. In the same way, speakers argue their emotions. They give reasons for what they feel and for what you should feel. They can do so because emotions are not something that fall on people like a book falls on the ground in virtue of a physical law.Because they are linguistic-cultural entities, emotions can be questioned :
(3)
That is not a reason to be in such a state!

Crude facts do not determine emotions. If P is dead, some emotion is certainly in order, but according to one’s ideological system (that is, principles of inferencing), it is possible to argue for joy or for sadness:
(4)
A : – Let’s rejoice, the tyrant is dead !
B : – Let’s mourn the death of the Father of our Country[v]

(5)
X : – Our brand new townhall is the most beautiful, I’m proud of it !
Y : – When I think of the cost, and all the unemployment, I’m ashamed !

To take an example from real political life, the following exchange gives evidence of the importance of discursive emotional display in political discourse[vi] :
(6)
The distress I feel concerning the repeated and tragic actions that you have undertaken as Head of the Israeli Government is real and truly profoun.
La détresse que j’éprouve suite aux actions tragiques et répétées que vous avez prises à la tête du gouvernement d’Israël est réelle et profonde.
First sentence of the letter adressed on March 9, 1997, by King Hussein of Jordan to the Israeli Prime Minister, Benjamin Netanyahou.

I have read your letter with deep anxiety, the last thing I would wish is to provoke your doubt and bitterness
J’ai lu votre lettre avec une profonde inquiétude, je ne voudrais surtout pas susciter le doute et l’amertume chez vous.

First sentence of the answer addressed on March 9, 1997, by the Israeli Prime Minister, Benjamin Netanyahou to King Hussein of Jordania. Quoted from Le Mond, March 15 1997, p. 3 (translation translated).

Maybe one of these political partners doesn’t feel distressed and the other one doesn’t feel anxious. Maybe militants and/or future historians will tell us that these linguistic emotional displays were just emotional lies, serving machiavelic strategies. Discourse analysis, led from a linguistic point of view, gives no access to the reality of the feelings.
The conclusion will be that the discursive dimension of emotions appears with a particular clarity when emotion is in debate, I mean when the object of debate is emotion itself. So, our point of departure will be a/ disagreement about emotions, then, extending the perspective, b/ doubt cast on an emotional state, or finally c/ the construction of an emotion by linguistic means, by a speaker adressing a hearer who is just supposed to feel nothing or to feel differently of what he/she should feel in the speaker’s opinion.
Disgreement about an emotion, doubt cast on an emotion, construction of an emotion by linguistic means : all this implies that we’ll have to start with openly declared emotions. A clear distinction must be drawn between words and inner states, between what is really experienced (if anything is experienced at all) in a given situation and what is said to be experienced in this situation. This will be one of the permanent puzzling points of this investigation, and maybe even an irritating one. But, for sure, sometimes people say that they feel something and attribute feelings to other people.
Our basic object being the organization and development of dissensual, value-loaded discourses about expressed emotions, we’ll consider as basic data for this investigation discourses in which emotions are expressed, thematized and openly declared.

2. A method: Two ways to emotions
As there is a place for emotion in argument – she fired because she
was afraid – there is a place for argument in emotions :
(7)
A : – She was frightened by the young men shouting and running around
B : – But they were not threatening, they were rejoicing!

If we acknowledge the fact that the rightfulness or the legitimacy of an emotion can be called into question, that reasons for / against emotions can be given, we now have to give some thoughts to the specificity of this kind of discourse as argumentative discourse, namely to the characteristics of their conclusions and their arguments. Consequently, the program will run as follows :
– First, the general form of the conclusion has to be determined ; we have to know what kind of emotion is aimed at and who is the person affected : who feels / should feel what ? A core definition must be provided for this concept of conclusion, that will be called in what follows “emotion sentences”[vii].
– Second, what kind of arguments can be put forward to (de)legitimate such a conclusion ? Here we have to provide the basic guidelines along which the structure of a discourse oriented towards an “emotion sentence” can be investigated.

2.1 Emotion sentences : who feels what ?
An emotion sentence asserts or denies that a particular individual (who ?) is in the grip of a particular emotion, or in such and such psychological state (what ?). In linguistic terms an emotion sentence is defined as a sentence connecting an experiencer to an emotion term ; both of which must be defined.

Experiencers
Prototypical experiencers are human beings, so the basic set of potential experiencers corresponds to the list of [+Human] terms or phrases (terms referring to humans) : proper names, personal pronouns, definite descriptions. Animals can also be experiencers : a sad cow is not a sad landscape (the cow is sad, and maybe that makes you sad ; the landscape makes you sad). It might be interesting to study the emergence of animals as experiencers in our culture. Note that the speaker must be considered as an experiencer. If somebody says :
(8)
I think this is frightful news

Certainly the locutor (the linguistic being to which refers the first personal pronoun, and who is characterized by her ethos) is frightened ; and, by application of the sincerity rule, the emotion is ascribed to the speaker as a person.
(9)
This is frightful news

Here the news must be considered as frightening per se ; everybody should be frightened. The difficult question of the linguistic tools of empathy must be faced here.

From a practical point of view, a distinction must be drawn between experiencer and potential experiencer. The first move in investigating the emotional dimension of a discourse is to list the potential experiencers. For example, in (D2) the main potential experiencers are :
(10)
I
We
A list of positive individuals belonging to the we -set
The victims
The crazy men from Pale
A list of negative individuals associated to The crazy men of Pale – set The opponents :
our military and political leaders

As a rule, the potential experiencer will be designated by one of the terms mentioned in the text[viii]; no external (“neutral”) designation is needed. The set of terms or expression referring to one potential experiencer will be called the “designative paradigm” characterizing this actor. For example, in (D2) the “designative paradigm” of the crazy men from Pale is :
(11)
– some feudals who have mistaken this century for another / quelques féodaux qui se sont trompés de siècle
– some political leaders who have withdrawn into their own identity which quickly evolved into madness / quelques dirigeants politiques [qui] ont sombré dans un repli identitaire qui s’est vite transformé en folie
– the crazy men from Pale / les fous de Palé
– men who have interpreted in their own way what is sometimes called “the epic vertical” of the great medieval narratives / des hommes ayant interprété à leur manière ce que d’aucuns appellent la « verticale épique » des grands récits du Moyen Age

Emotion terms
Emotion terms can be defined or listed. The list includes probably some hundred of terms, basically the classical emotion terms, such as fear, anger, shame…, but not exclusively. For example the following predicates are emotion terms:
(12)
to piss sb off ; to be fed up…

Simple lists of terms of affect are very good instruments to start with ; they largely correspond to the lists provided by psychologists who pay attention to what they call “verbal labels attached to emotions”[ix] This basic set of emotion terms can be extended. Consider for example the sentence:
(13)
Peter was boiling

(13) contains no emotion term. But, for sure, the experiencer, Peter, really experiences something, and certainly not shame nor fear or joy ; maybe something like indignation, maybe impatience. Consequently, the emotion sentence associated to (13) will be : {Peter : /indignation/ /impatience/} – the slashes show that the emotion terms have been reconstructed and not directly taken in the text. Along these lines, some emotions can be easily identified on such purely lexical grounds. Other forms of extension are equally possible. The general conclusion is that a rich set of linguistic data can be exploited to reconstruct emotion terms.

Examples : Reconstructing emotion sentences

With these simple notions of experiencers, emotion terms and emotion sentences, we can have a look at a text or a corpus with our very simple question in mind : who experiences what ? In (D2), the emotion sentence determining the emotional orientation is given in the title of the paper:
(14)
The empty parts of France : the frightening figures / La France du vide : les chiffres qui font peur.

The emotion term is fear (peur), the experiencer /everybody/, so the reconstructed emotion sentence will be :
(14’){/everybody/, fear}.

(14’) determines the general emotional orientation, which will remain stable throughout the paper. The emotional situation is much more sophisticated in (D1), “Sarajevo : The Assassinated Citizenship”. The first reason is that the text stages several emotionally well differenciated experiencers:

– The enemies, the crazy men from Pale, feel a kind of joy.
– In our text, the class of the victims has not been qualified from the emotional point of view. This might be an important aspect helping to tell apart this kind of militant political intervention from horror tales.
– The opponents feel nothing, they are apathetic.
The second reason is that the we-class, which includes the ideal audience, is richly endowed with emotions, and goes through a series of emotional transformations in the address. At the beginning “we” adhere to the opponent’s thesis and is apathetic ; then the arguer turns this apathy into shame ; finally, the call for action having been accepted “we” feels proud. Let’s consider this process of emotional attribution in more detail. Consider (15), the first sentence of the text:
(15)
Bosnia has now been at war for more than nine months, and the consequences should make everyone’s conscience shudder / Cela fait plus de neuf mois que la Bosnie-Herzégovine connaît la guerre, et un bilan à faire frémir toutes les consciences.

The verb frémir [to shudder] denotes a kind physical vibration which can be determined by a physical or, as in this sentence, by a mental-linguistic emotional stimulus. The French language says frémir de joie [to quiver with joy], which is clearly inappropriate in the context “ – conscience” ; the same is true for frémir d’horreur [to shudder with horror]. The only possible interpretation is to be found in the series frémir d’indignation [to shiver with indignation]… So, the emotion sentence associated to (14) will be:
(15’){/everybody/, /indignation, anger/}.

Consider now the sentence (16):
(16)
Le rouge nous montera au visage et nous resterons muets devant les questions gênantes de nos enfants / We’ll become red in the face and we’ll remain speechless in reaction to our children’s questions

In French, colère [anger] and honte [shame] are linguistically associated with this kind of red which monte au visage [rises to the face] ; the coordinated sentence is a cliché associated to shame[x], never to anger. We get here two very different emotions : anger and shame. Applied to emotion denoting terms, the principle of coordination reduction excludes anger. So, the emotion sentence associated to (15) will be :
(16’){we, /shame/}.

This is not the end of the emotion story. Consider sentence (17):
(17)
It seems that no crime against humanity can shock us and that we are getting used to horror / Il semble qu’aucun crime contre l’humanité ne nous choque et que nous nous habituions à l’horreur.

“Not being shocked by any crime”, “getting used to horror” : this lack of affect can be rephrased as “being apathetic”. The third emotion sentence is:
(17’){we, /apathy/}

So, in a few lines, three different emotions are attributed to “we” : our interpretation is that this experiencer corresponds to the ideal audience, first apathetic (believing in the the discourse of the Opponents “our governments”, “our political and military leaders”) ; then convinced by the orator’s arguments, turning indignant. Different modalities are attributed to these two emotional states, “we” is apathetic when it should be indignant : this is a rather good definition of shame. Shame is a value-based emotion, an incentive to action ; and the last lines of the speech are in a very different emotional tone, something like pride:
(18)
Like us, [our guests] think that war criminals that have initiated the ethnic purification must know that they won’t remain unpunished / Comme nous, [nos invités] estiment que les cirminels de guerre qui ont entrepris la purification ethnique doivent savoir qu’ils ne resteront pas impunis.

Note that this sentence contains no emotion term. This suggests that radically different ways of reconstructing emotion must be considered now. I would suggest something like the following emotional stereotype : « the proposed action is basically in agreement with the deepest political value of the audience [so we must be proud to fight for such a goal] ». This stereotype corresponds to topos T6, which will be introduced in the next paragraph.

2.2 Pathemes: Emotional facets, principle, axes, topoi… argumentative features
The emotion sentence being reconstructed as previously mentioned, the emotional conclusions of the discourse are now at our disposal. We must now ask for what explains, justifies, or argues for… for this conclusion, what counts for a reason backing this conclusion, what makes the surrounding discourse coherent with it ? This construction / argumentation of emotion can be systematically investigated. The basic element of this reconstruction could be called “argumentative emotional features” (or “pathemes”, from “pathos”).
In this second phase of the work, emotions are not diagnosed from their subsequent manifestations, but constructed from their antecedents. If the discourse is emotionnally coherent, constructed emotion and diagnosed emotion coincide. In empathic communication, emotion is identified and transmitted both by expression and justification.
An event can be emotionally evaluated / constructed along the following emotional axes, roughly defined here as classical topoi considered in their relation with the experiencer as a person – a person being defined as a set of values.

(T1) Position of the event on the euphoric / dysphoric axes (pleasant/unpleasant) ? This position of the event can be directly asserted, or constructed along the following axes. Often both processes are used :
(19)
This consequence would be unpleasant (S1). Our interests would be harmed (S2)

Here the emotional quality of the event is first directly asserted in (S1), and then argued in (S2). According to the normal argumentative interpretation, (S2) is an argument for (S1).

(T2) Category of people affected ? Is there a link between these people and the experiencer ? For example, in our culture the maximal emotional investment is on children : “children/ordinary citizens are dying” is emotionally most efficient than “adults/militia are dying”. Here we are in the realm of emotions socio-culturally associated with different categories of people or groups (or emotional stereotypes, commonplaces or clichés, all these designations being not obligatorily pejorative). Such emotional inferences are necessary to account for the use of but in sentences like (20):
(20)
Children are dying from hunger, but that doesn’t move him The kind of person affected is not exclusively defined by such broad stereotypes. The link between these people and the experiencer plays an essential part in the construction of emotion : what affects a citizen of my country / my village, or my children, is more moving that what affects other people.

(T3) Analogy ? Is there a correspondance between the event to be emotionally evaluated / constructed and domains where emotion is socially / personally stabilized?
(T4) Quantity, intensity ? The bigger the number of victims, the bigger the shock – and the time on TV. It seems that this emotional parameter is not capable of creating emotion just to stress a pre-existing emotion. But big / small is beautiful and it seems that low/high quantity can create enthusiasm whatever the object may be (cf. The Book of Records).
(T5) What are the causes ? Who are the agents ? How are they linked to the (potential) experiencer’s interests, norms and values (personal / group / social)?
(T6) What are the consequences ? Do they affect the (potential) experiencer’s interests, norms and values?
(T7) Control? : Can the event be controlled by the (potential) experiencer?
(T8) Distance ? Spatio-temporal construction of the event ? Global distance from the (potential) experiencer ? This set of principles can be illustrated by examples taken from our corpus.[xi]

4. Illustration
4.1 Building an orientation towards /indignation/ : Text (D1) “Sarajevo : the assassinated Citizenship” (see the first  paragraph in Annex).

This orientation is built in two moments : first as a kind of /horror/, associated with a dysphoric field ; then, by mentioning the agents, as /indignation/.

– Topos (T1) : the events are basically oriented towards the dysphoric side by the following terms and expressions :
(21)
war, dead, refugees / guerre, morts, réfugiés
(22)
camps where people are tortured and killed / des camps où l’on torture et massacre

– Topos (T2), Who ? Mainly civilians (vs military people, militia…)
(23)
80% civilians / 80% de civils

– Topos (T3), Analogy ? Second World War camps : (28) camps / des camps the biggest extermination enterprise since World War II / la plus grande entreprise d’extermination depuis la seconde guerre

– Topos (T4), Quantity ? Big quantity :
(24)
165 000 dead / 165 000 morts

(25)
tens of thousands of civilians trapped in camps / des dizaines de milliers de civils enfermés dans des camps
– Topos (T8), Distance ? Near :

(25)
under our eyes / sous nos yeux

(26)
to morrow … the day after tomorrow… / demain… après demain

This set of topoi builds a feeling of the type /horror/.

– Topos (T5), Cause and Agent ? The following designations are extracted from the designative paradigm (11) :
(27)
feudals who have mistaken this century for another / quelques féodaux qui se sont trompés de siècle political leaders… withdrawn into their identity… evolving into madness / dirigeants politiques…repli identitaire … folie the crazy men from Pale / les fous de Palé.

The reponsible agents are clearly designated (some of them are explicitly mentionned) ; they are the embodiment of counter-values for an experiencer posited as a “citizen” (cf. the title of the address) ; the situation calls for action. The feeling is turned from /horror/ into /indignation/. One last point : Starting from the same situation, other types of feelings could be rhetorically- argumentatively constructed, for example by a discourse locating the process far away somewhere in the Balkans, depicting the events as a tribal war, etc : this will create the orientation towards /apathy/ characterizing the Opponent’s discourse.

4.1 Building an orientation towards /fear/ : Text (D2) “The empty part of France : the frightening figures”. What are these “frightening figures”?
(28)
Two French people out of ten lived in town at the beginning of this century, five out ot ten after the Second World War, eight out of ten nowadays, that is to say 47 out of 58,5 millions of inhabitants of the Hexagon / Deux Français sur dix vivaient dans une ville au début du siècle, cinq sur dix après la seconde guerre mondiale, huit sur dix aujourd’hui, soit 47 des 58,5 millions d’habitants de l’Hexagone.

Is this “really” frightening ? A euphoric discourse could be very easily built on these figures : “France is no longer an outdated rural country, its main cities are now reaching a critical size, they are able to attract international investments…”. The option chosen by the paper is quite different, and clearly dysphoric. This negative picture is built according to the following topical lines.
– Topos (T1) : The description of the “empty part of France” is built on basically dysphoric terms.

On this dysphoric basis, the specific feeling of “fear” is constructed along four “emotional lines”, or classical topoi : analogy, causality and control.

Table 1

Table 1

– Topos (T3), Like what ? Analogy turns more precisely this description towards fear by assignating to the dysphoric process an interpretation in the field of disease, death and disasters. The choice of such an interpretant for the described phenomenon commits to a certain conception of control (cf. infra, Topos T5).

(T7) Control ? The process escapes all real possibility of control.

– Topos (T5), Cause and Agent ? This “death” is attributed to abstract agents, “unemployment”, “mechanization”, “productivity race”.

Note the difference it would make if the agents were not these ones but for example :
(29)
The bureaucrats from Brussels
Mr So and So, our Minister of Agriculture

ISSA1998-page-636

Table 2

This second kind of agents might provide for grounds for a call to action or revolt ; in this case, the appropriate emotion would be /indignation/, not “fear”. This orientation towards non-political feelings is confirmed by a last set of fictional agents, “cannibals” and “vampires”.

4. Conclusion
In this paper, I have tried to show that argumentative situations can be considered basic for investigating the emotional dimension of discourse. The concept of emotion sentence has been defined. I have suggested that an experiencer- oriented set of emotional axes or topoi is basic for the construction / orientation of discourse towards emotion. The examples chosen show that these methods and notions are operative as regards real discourse. One important problem still has to be discussed : a set of basic emotions should be defined in agreement with the topical rules ; such a definition would be rhetorical, that is based on stereotypes or commonplaces (cf. Aristotle’s Rhetoric, Book 2).

Annex : Text (D1) :
Sarajevo : la citoyenneté assassinée Cela fait plus de neuf mois que la Bosnie-Herzégovine connaît la guerre, et un bilan à faire frémir toutes les consciences : 165000 morts, dont 80% de civils, plus de 9 millions de réfugiés et des dizaines de milliers de civils enfermés dans des camps dont certains – cela a été prouvé – sont des camps où l’on torture et massacre. Sous nos yeux e déroule la plus grande entreprise de nettoyage ethnique depuis la dernière guerre. Demain il suffit au général hiver d’intervenir à sa manière pour achever le programme de nettoyage entrepris par quelques féodaux qui se sont trompés de siècle. Et lorsque après-demain, quand il faudra faire les compte, nous réaliserons la quantité de dégâts humains causés par la folie nationaliste, le rouge nous montera au visage et nous resterons muet devant les questions gênantes de nos enfants.

ISSA1998-page-637

Table 3, 4 & 5

Impuissance de nos gouvernants, démobilisation de l’opinion, l’Europe reste interdite. Il semble que plus aucun crime contre l’humanité ne nous choque et que nous nous habituions à l’horreur Contrairement à ce que les responsables politiques et militaires occidentaux tentent de nous faire croire […].

Bosnia has now been at war for more than nine months, and the consequences should make everyone’s conscience shudder : 165 000 dead of whom 80% are civilians, more than 9 millions refugees and tens of thousands of civilians trapped in camps some of which are – it has been proved – camps where people are tortured and massacred. Under our eyes the biggest enterprise of ethnic purification since World War II is in progress. Tomorrow “general winter” has only to intervene in its own way to complete this cleaning program initiated by some feudals who have mistaken this century for another. And when, the day after tomorrow we’ll have to take stock, we’ll realize the quantity of human damages provoked by nationalist madness, we’ll become red in the face and we’ll remain speechless in reaction to our children’s embarrasing questions. Ineffectiveness of our governments, demobilization of our governments, Europe remains mute. It seems that no crime against humanity can shock us and that we are getting used to horror. Contrary to what our political and military leaders try to make us believe […]

NOTES
[i] This is not to deny the importance of a critical approach to emotions; it could even be argued that an investigation of the linguistic – rhetorical dimension of emotions is basic for a real education of emotions, particularly in public life.
[ii] This paragraph deals with my “external hypotheses”; the following one with my “internal hypotheses”. These two kinds of hypotheses must be distinguished; cf. Ducrot, Les mots du discours, Paris: Le Seuil, 1980, p. 20; the concept can be traced back to the philosopher Pierre Duhem (1861-1916). Internal hypotheses are intra-theoretical hypotheses, and are currently considered as the only kind of hypotheses on which a theory is built. The external hypotheses are the set of hypotheses made on the object of investigation. Internal hypotheses are not independant of external hypotheses. In our field, a much needed reflexion of argumentative genres, or on the method for collecting corpora would be instrumental to the constitution of an (explicit) set of external hypotheses.
[iii] My examples are taken from French, and the method implies that one has to stick to the original linguistic data. An approximative translation is provided.
[iv] If her argumentation succeeds, she will have convinced A that he should be afraid. Will A really be afraid? Maybe she will, but this is another question. I should believe but I don’t; I should do, but I don’t; I should feel, but I don’t: I certainly know, but nonetheless … Je sais bien, mais quand même.
[v] The utterance “Let’s rejoice, the tyrant is dead! ” refers to the dead person, X via the nominalized predicate “is a tyrant”, and the conclusion follows analytically from the argument, in virtue of the common place “One must rejoice when a tyrant is dead” (“one must cry when a tyrant is dead”). Idem, mutatis mutandis, for the other case. In other words, when X is dead, under the predicate “is a tyrant” one rejoices; under the predicate “is the father of our country” , one cries; cf. Plantin, 1996: 58 on this kind of hologrammatic phenomenon.
[vi] This might be characteristic of a genre of political discourse, and/or of a period in time.
[vii] The expression “emotion sentence” translates “énoncé d’émotion”. It conveys a different meaning from “emotional sentence”.
[viii] Quotations from (D1) and (D2) are underlined.
[ix] For the French language Cosnier (1994) has provided a list of basic emotion terms in French language and culture. The fact is that the linguist list and the psychologist list do coincide.
[x] American-English informants tell that the expression “to become red in the face”is associated with anger or shame/embarrassment, and “blood coming up to the brow”associated with anger only.
[xi] To quote fully (D1) and (D2) is not possible here. See a less incomplete analysis in Plantin 1997.

REFERENCES
Balibar-Mrabti A. (ed.) (1995). Grammaire des sentiments, Langue Française 105.
Battachi M. W., Th. Suslow, M. Renna (1996). Emotion und Sprache. Frankfurt: Peter Lang.
Caffi Cl. & R. W. Janney (1994). Toward a pragmatics of emotive communication. Journal of pragmatics 22, 325-373.
Cosnier J. (1994). Psychologie des émotions et des sentiments. Paris : Retz.
Fiehler R. (1990). Kommunikation und Emotion. Theoretische und empirische Untersuchungen zur Rolle der Emotionen in der verbalen Interaktion. Berlin/NexYork : de Gruyter.
Gross M. (1995). Une grammaire locale de l’expression des sentiments. Langue Française 105, 70-87.
Hoffman M. L. (1984). Interaction of affect and cognition in empathy. In: Izard C. E., J. Kagan & R. B. Zajonc, Emotions, cognition and behavior. Cambridge : Cambridge University Press, 103-131.
Kövecses Z. (1990). Emotion concepts. New York : Springer Kerbrat-Orecchioni.
C. (1980). L’énonciation De la subjectivitédans le langage. Paris : A. Colin.
Lausberg H. (1960). Handbuch der literarischen Rhetorik. Munich: Max Hueber.
Lewis M. (1993). Self-conscious emotions : embarrassment, pride, shame and guilt. In LEWIS M. & J. M. HAVILAND, (eds), Handbook of emotions. New York : Guilford Press, 563-573.
Plantin Ch. (1996). L’argumentation. Paris : Le Seuil (“Mémo”).
Plantin Ch. (1997). L’argumentation dans l’émotion. Pratiques 96, 81-100.
Plantin Ch. (to appear a). Les raisons des émotions. In M. Bondi (Ed.), Forms of argumentative discourse / Per un’analisi linguistica dell’argomentare, Bologne.
Plantin Ch. (to appear b). La construction rhétorique des émotions. Proceedings of the 1997 IADA conference in Lugano Rhétorique et argumentation.
Plantin Ch. (to appear c). “Se mettre en colère en justifiant sa colère”. Proceedings of the conference Les émotions dans les interactions communicatives, Lyon 1997.
Rimé B. & K. Scherer (éds) (1993). Les émotions. Neuchâtel : Delachaux et Niestlé (1st ed. 1989).
Scherer K. R. (1984a). Les émotions : Fonctions et composantes. Cahiers de psychologie cognitive, 4, 9-39.
Scherer K. R. (1984b). On the Nature and function of emotion : A component process approach. In Scherer K. R., & P. Ekman (eds) (1984). Approaches to emotions. Hillsdale, N. J. : Lawrence Erlbaum. 293-317.
Ungerer F. (1995). Emotions and emotional language in English and German news stories. In S. Niemeyer et Dirven (eds), The Language of emotion. Amsterdam/Philadelphia John Benjamins. 307-328.
Walton D. (1992). The place of emotions in argument. University Park : The Pennsylvania State University Press.
Walton D. (1997). Appeal to Pity. Albany : State University of New York Press.




ISSA Proceedings 1998 – The Problem Of Truth For Theories Of Argument

ISSAlogo1998I. Introduction[i]
A. The historical background
In the beginning, as I like to tell the story, there is Aristotle. His Prior and Posterior Analytics present what might be thought of as the original theory of argument. According to it, a good argument must satisfy two conditions. First, the argument must be valid; that  is, the conclusion must follow logically from the premises. Second, the premises must be true.[ii] In modern logic, much the same story is told by combining truth and validity in the ideal of soundness which becomes enshrined in the logic doctrine of the 20th century. (In (1986), I baptized this theory as FDL, an abbreviation for “formal deductive logic” and shall continue to so refer to it.) There are those who object that the idea of soundness was never intended to be the whole story of what counts as a good argument. That may be true. Yet the fact remains that many logicians and philosophers have presented it as such (Lambert & Ulrich 1980) and continue to do so (Solomon 1989).
For centuries, FDL reigned supreme as the theory of argument, until it was challenged by theorists like Toulmin and later Hamblin and later still informal logicians, and others who take the view that FDL does not provide an adequate theory of argument. Some, like Toulmin (1958), challenged the architecture of FDL; others like Hamblin (1970) challenged the truth-requirement; still others (Barth 1985) and Govier 1987) have challenged the deductivism they believe is implicit in FDL.
A kind of standard critique of FDL has emerged which goes as follows. Soundness is neither a necessary nor a sufficient condition for goodness in argumentation. It is not necessary because there are good arguments which do not satisfy this requirement, such a good inductive arguments. It is not sufficient because there are argument which satisfy this but are not good arguments. An example would be an argument which begs the question yet has true premises. I am sympathetic to the first line of argument though not to the second, the reason being that the example used to make the point (typically “p p”) strikes me as an implication rather than an argument.
In this paper, I am interested only in the issue of what has come to be called premise-adequacy: What requirements must the premises of a good argument satisfy?[iii] Must they be true, as FDL theorists have insisted? Or is something “less” – acceptability – adequate, as some informal logicians have held (Govier, 1996)? Or should we embrace both sorts of requirement, as both Allen (1997) and I (1996) have argued?
B. The significance of the issue
The issue is an important one. For one thing, the old ideal promoted the notion that the only really good arguments are conclusive arguments – a dangerous doctrine tending toward skepticism and so well worth challenging. My concern it that the alternative suggestion – that the premises of an argument must be acceptable – is some ways so problematic and weak that it may promote an unhealthy relativism and so well worth challenging.
C. My position
The position I defend in this paper is that logicians and argumentation theorists should include truth as a requirement for premise-adequacy. I begin by examining the arguments for including it. I then examine the arguments against. I then put forth what I believe is a decisive line of reasoning for including it. Then I review the dialectical situation, draw some conclusions, and end.

II. Arguments for a truth-requirement for premiseadequacy
The truth-requirement was accurately stated by Hamblin (1970): “The premises of an argument must be true.” Let’s briefly review the main arguments for including truth as a requirement for premise-adequacy.
First, the imposition of such a requirement has much history on its side. Going right back to Aristotle, we find logicians embracing the idea that the premises must be true in order for the argument to be a worthy one. This requirement for premise-adequacy is part and parcel of FDL’s approach.
Second, it seems a natural enough method of dealing with arguments. That is, quite apart from what our theories of argument may dictate, it seems an intuitive and natural move to criticize someone’s argument on the grounds that one of the premises is not true. We all do it, even a sophisticated philosopher liked Dennett, who in responding to a suggestion by Stich, says: “This is just not true” (1987:95).
Third, if we conceive of argumentation as a method for getting at the truth (again I say this seems a natural enough interpretation of what argumentation is about), then it is difficult to see how we may hope to arrive at that destination if we do not require that the premises of our arguments satisfy that requirement. Those, then, are some of the more prominent lines of argument for truth as a requirement for premise-adequacy.

III. Arguments against a truth-requirement for premise-adequacy
There seem to me to be at least six main opposing lines of argument. First, it can be notoriously difficult to determine what is true.
William James says that “no concrete test of what is true has even been agreed upon.” As one moves away from science and towards other spheres of reasoning – the practical sphere of human decision-making, the areas of morals, ethics, politics and everyday human affairs – it becomes more and more problematic in its application. This is not because the criterion of truth is entirely inapplicable to human affairs, but rather because as one reviews the nature and functions of argumentation in this arena, it seems that  the premises need not be true in order for the argument to be a good one (See Blair and Johnson, 1987).
Second, it can be argued that the truth-requirement is not a necessary condition, because the mere presence of a false premise does not in and of itself mean that the argument is a bad one, if the other true premises are sufficiently powerful to “cover” for it. Here is an example. The arguer begins with this premise: January 1998 has begun, with all major cities throwing parties with fireworks and people breaking in the new year with hopes of a better life.

The arguer proceeds to argue that all people need to get involved in the process of helping to heal the earth. Now suppose that P1 is false because one or two major cities (Tokyo and Madrid) did not throw such parties; suppose however that all others did. As matters stand then the premise is false. Will this falsity be enough to cause a rational person to reject the argument? Not necessarily, it seems to me, especially if
i. the other premises of the argument are strong enough to compensate
for this weakness; and
ii. the premise is just barely false.

Third, and related to the first, even if one decided to impose the truth-requirement on the premises of an argument, it will be asked which of the many versions of theories of truth will be selected? Will we define truth in terms of correspondence, coherence, reliability, or what? The objection from this direction is that there is a severe theoretical obstacle in the way – choosing one particular theory of truth rather than some other.
Fourth, there is Hamblin’s argument which more or less directs itself to the correspondence theory of truth, arguing that to impose truth as a requirement is unwise, since truth (and validity) are “onlookers’ concepts and presuppose a God’s-eye-view of the arena” (242).
Fifth, there is the objection that the ideal of truth has been notoriously abused, pressed into service of the most heinous ideologies. Given the abuse historically associated with this requirement, it is thought that we are better off not invoking it.[iv]
Sixth, there is Stich’s challenge (1990) to truth as an epistemic value – a challenge not developed with argumentation in mind but which surely would apply to any theory of argument that opted for truth. Stich argues that the appropriate epistemic value is not that our beliefs be true but rather that they satisfy our purposes. His alternative, broadly described as pragmatic, is both pluralistic and relativistic, though not, Stich argues, in any pernicious way.

These are, then, some of the reasons that have been cited for rejecting the truth-requirement, at least in any primitive form. Before we move on, a couple of observations:
First, the above is admittedly sketchy but it contains in germinal form a point of great importance for argumentation theory: there can be good arguments on both sides of a proposition. As I have argued before (1992), this realization (found in Hamblin) is fatal to those who promote FDL as a theory of argument, because FDL cannot accommodate this requirement.
Second, now what happens? Some of my students would urge that because there are six arguments against and only three for the truth-requirement, we should conclude against it. But we know that there are better ways to handle this situation than simply counting noses. We could, for example, proceed to determine the strength of the various reasons. Some, (Grennan (1986) and Bowles (1990)) would do this by assigning some numeric value to the premises. Or we might proceed to burrow deeper into the individual arguments. Or we may wish to cast about for additional reasons on one side or the other. Which is the option I choose here.

IV. Further arguments for the truth-requirement
I want to introduce a line of argument for the truth-requirement that I take to be very strong. It is that it is virtually impossible to engage the work of argument evaluation without some recourse, whether explicit or implicit, to the truth-requirement. Let me refer to this as Johnson’s Conjecture:
Even when a logician (or a argumentation theorist) explicitly dismisses truth as a requirement for premise adequacy, the truth-requirement will continue to perform important work in that theorist’s evaluative apparatus in any or all of the following ways:
1. by making unofficial use of it even after they have discharged it;
2. by continuing to rely on it by using terms in their theory of evaluation which themselves presuppose some commitment to the truth-requirement. This happens when a theorist assigns an evaluative role to such notions as contradiction, assumption, validity, consistency – all of which seem to require that truth be assigned a normative role. It is further questionable whether a term like acceptability (often put forward as an alternative to the truth-requirement) can be rendered intelligible without recourse to the truth-requirement. The same can be said for relevance.
3. by using the truth-requirement in their metatheory, that is in the metalanguage in which they set up their theory of evaluation. The second situation is by far the most common and the one I will illustrate here. I shall cite four cases.

Case I: Logical Self-Defense by Johnson and Blair.
In LSD (1993), Johnson and Blair embrace acceptability rather than truth as the appropriate logical requirement for the premise adequacy. They do not exclude truth as an appropriate criterion in many cases, where the arguer is attempting to establish “the way things are in the world … for such arguments … the premises must be true” (62). But they maintain that truth is not a logical requirement. This is part of their larger view that criticizing a premise for not being true is a substantive rather than a logical criticism. So Johnson and Blair acknowledge the role of truth in argument evaluation but do not regard it as a logical criterion for premise-adequacy.
Still when it comes to the discussion of some of the fallacies, their account seems to clearly presuppose the truth-requirement.
For example, when they discuss the fallacy of inconsistency, Johnson and Blair rely heavily on the truth-requirement. They claim that two premises are inconsistent if they cannot be true together.[v]
This seems correct but not compatible with their position that a fallacy is a violation of one of the (logical) requirements for a good argument. The truth-requirement makes its presence felt elsewhere. Look, for example, at their account of the test they propose for determining relevance: “Let me suppose that P is true; does the truth of P dictate a truth value for C (the conclusion)?” (54-55). Now if truth is required in order to explain relevance, and relevance itself is a criterion for the evaluation of the premises of an argument, would that not suggest that truth should be included as a criterion?
The truth-requirement also makes an appearance in their formulation of the conditions for popularity (173-75) and dubious assumption (206), among others. It is hard to imagine any account of the fallacy of popularity which would not invoke as a norm the following claim: that many or all persons believe a premise to be true does not make it true.[vi]
Thus, although truth is not included among the logical criteria which the premises must satisfy, still it appears to be highly functional in their theory of evaluation.

Case 2: Argumentation, Communication and Fallacies by van Eemeren and Grootendorst (1992).
Noteworthy here is the attempt on the part of pragma-dialecticians to carefully avoid reference to the truth-requirement. The word does not appear in their Index except under the entry “logical truth”! Instead they use the notion of acceptability (5,7,9), or acceptance (96). It is clear from what they write on page 96 that acceptance is meant to play a role in pragma-dialectics similar to the role truth plays in logic. However, van Eemeren and Grootendorst have not, so far as I can see, offered a clear account of acceptability/acceptance that differentiates it from truth and shows that it can stand independently of the truth-requirement.
Moreover, when we examine the critical apparatus they use, we see the continuing influence of the truth-requirement. If we look at page 95, we find the authors noting “the general importance of avoiding contradiction” and they quote Frits Stall: “No rational human being would claim that ‘The telephone is over there’ and ‘The telephone is not over there’ can both be true at the same time.” Clearly, pragma-dialectics will not tolerate inconsistent premises.
On page 270, the authors state: “The most obvious type of inconsistency is when two premise are contradictory. This is the case if they contain proposition that can neither both be true nor both be false at the same time.” Thus it seems that pragma-dialectics wishes to expunge inconsistency and that it understands this fundamental relationship in terms of the truth-value of the respective propositions. (It is possible that inconsistency can be spelled out in terms of acceptability, though I am skeptical that such an analysis can be provided.) Here again we see the influence of the truth-requirement in their critical apparatus.
Perhaps even more noteworthy is its behind-the-scenes presence in the notion of validity. Rule 8 appears to restrict the argumentation schemes to those which are valid or a capable of being validated. I say “would seem” because van Eemeren and Grootendorst want to avoid equating validity with deductive validity. They say “we do not want to take a specific and definitive stance on the question of exactly what kind of logical validity criterion is to be preferred” (60). They appear to reject Rescher’s idea that an inductive inference is a failed deductive one, and they are sensitive to Govier’s critique of deductivism. Yet in their treatment of unexpressed premises, they commit themselves to propositional logic and first-order predicate logic as the vehicles for fleshing out missing premises. On pp. 70-71 they embrace argument forms from propositional logic. To the degree that they are willing to embrace the traditional concept of validity as having some role to play in their evaluative apparatus, to that same degree, it appears, that they too have no choice but to embrace some form of the truth-requirement – unless validity can be explained without recourse to the truth-requirement. Further evidence of the role of the truth-requirement in pragma-dialectics can be found in we consult Rules 5 and 6 both of which are formulated with the adverb “falsely”.
And so it appears that the truth-requirement plays a significant, if unacknowledged, role in pragma-dialectics.

Case 3: Reasoning by Pinto, Blair and Parr (1993).
In telling their story about how to evaluate inferences, the authors adopt acceptability at the appropriate criterion: “a premise is acceptable just in case it is reasonable to accept it” (122). They go on then to discuss acceptability and the first point they make is that “acceptability is not the same thing as truth.” A premise can be reasonable to believe and yet fail to be true.[vii]
Still the criterion of truth continues to play a significant role in their metatheory. On the very same page that they introduce the criterion of acceptability, they say:
And no matter how strong a link there is between the premises and the conclusion, if the premises are unacceptable, the inference is defective. [Example omitted.] Here the premiss is so tightly linked to the conclusion that if it is true …. the conclusion must be true too. (122)
Notice that when they explain what a strong link looks like, they invoke truth. In other words, their metatheory makes reference to a truth-requirement. Again my point is that if the concept of truth is good enough for the metatheory it is good enough for the theory of evaluation itself. Indeed, it is difficult to get on with the business premise evaluation without invoking it, as becomes clear later in the text. For when the authors present a strategy for testing the strength of an inference, they rely heavily on the criterion of truth (128-129). Thus, in order to test the strength of the inference, the premise(s) are evaluated with respect to their truth-potential; but when it comes to evaluating the premise itself, the truth-requirement is discharged and the acceptability requirement is imposed.
Further use is made of the truth-requirement in Chapter 5 in which the authors discuss logical notions of entailment, incompatibility, consistency and contradiction. I think that other elements of the critical apparatus introduced in this text (e.g the notion of credibility) likewise lean upon the truth-requirement. So although Pinto, Blair and Parr appear to discharge the truth-requirement, it continues to play a significant role in their theory.

Case 4: A Practical Study of Argument by Govier (1997).
In her articulation of the conditions for a good argument, Govier discusses the truth-requirement:
In addition, the concept of truth in the traditional account of soundness poses problems. In arguments, what is really important is not so much that the premises be true but that we know them to be true, or, if, knowledge is not obtainable, that we have good reasons to believe them. Many important have premises that are plausible and accepted by the arguer and the audience but that we would hesitate to say are true in an absolute sense. (74)
But how can we understand the idea of a premise’s being plausible or having good reasons to believe something without some notion of truth in the background? In her definition of argument, Govier invokes the concept of truth. She states:
In effect, an arguer putting forward an argument does these three things:
1. She asserts the premises.
2. She asserts that if the premises are true (or acceptable), the conclusion is true (or acceptable).
3. She asserts the conclusion. (65)

When she discusses relevance later she states:
Premises are positively relevant to the conclusion when, if true, they constitute some reason to believe the conclusion is true. (165) Here again we notice the theorist tacitly relying on the truthrequirement. If my sample is representative[viii] and if my reasoning is good, then it follows that even those authors who wish to avoid the truth-requirement are in some sense committed to it. The conclusion that I draw from these sordid tales is that the truth-requirement should be included as a requirement for premise-adequacy.[ix]

V. Dialectical Pause: Where Are We?
Have I persuaded you then that the truth-requirement belongs in the set of requirements for premise adequacy? Let’s see where we are dialectically. I began by reviewing the reasons for; then we looked at “the other side” – the reasons against; and most recently I have introduced yet another line of reasoning to support my claim. But there are a number of things I have not done. So I hope that you have not yet been persuaded because, as I think, my argument is radically incomplete. What I need to do, it seems to me, and what I shall not be able to do here, is return to the original arguments that oppose my position and show why, on the grounds that I have developed, I find them unsatisfactory. I have not made any argument that the reasons for the truth-requirement are stronger than those against it. Nor have I responded in detail to Hamblin’s objections.
Nor have I addressed alternative positions, for example Allen’s proposal (1997) for combining truth and acceptability. The failure to do these things constitutes a severe lapse in argumentation. For it means that I have thus far failed to discharge my dialectical obligations (Johnson, 1997).
I acknowledge the validity of this assessment. Alas, in the time that remains I cannot discharge these obligations. I can however refer you to a location where you will find them dealt with (See my Manifest Rationality, forthcoming).

VI. Conclusion
I suspect that many informal logicians abandoned the truth-requirement for two reasons. First, they saw it as part of the FDL which they were criticizing. Second, they were persuaded by Hamblin’s case against the truth-requirement. I certainly belong to that tribe; or better, belonged. For I now believe that abandoning the truth-requirement is a mistake and that “for better … for worse,” in something very like a marriage vow, informal logicians and argumentation theorists should embrace the truth-requirement.

NOTES
i. I am grateful to Gordon Plumer for his criticisms of parts of this paper.
ii. This is not Aristotle’s terminology. He speaks of the demonstrative syllogism rather than argument, the term ‘validity’ is not known to him, and it appears that his requirement for the premises is even stronger; the premises must be necessary truths. In recognizing Aristotle as the original theorist, we must be cognizant that he makes room for other types of argument in Topics and De Sophisticis Elenchis .
iii. In putting the matter this way I want to make it clear that I am not accepting the conventional account of argument accordingto which an argument is composed of premises plus an inference from the premises to the conclusion. But this is not because I find Toulmin’s proposal for the architecture of arguments much better. I don’t care for the term ‘premise-adequacy’ because in fact we want our premises to be not just adequate but good or strong. ‘Adequate’ is too weak.
iv. The truth-problem for us is in some respects like the truth-problem for Nietzsche. He saw clearly many of the unwelcome consequences of the ideal of truth (i.e., that it was bound up with a metaphysical faith and otherwordly hopes, that it lies at the core of the Judaeo-Christian religiosity which he so strongly attacks) and yet he was himself unable to critique those views without at various points leaning heavily on the very notion of truth.
v. It is possible, though not likely, that the requirement of consistency can be unpacked without truth but using for example the concept of acceptability. However I think this is not likely, because I think it is possible and may well be rational for a given person to accept both P and not-P.
vi. Notice what happens if instead of truth we invoke acceptability. This fallacy will disappear. For the fact that most or all accept a premise does mean that it is acceptable at least on some versions of acceptability.
vii. I abstract from the issue of whether an account of acceptability can be given without invoking the truth-requirement at some point.
viii. I have selected here four texts whose authors are more or less sympathetic to informal logic and who have distanced themselves form the truth-requirement. In other words, these are, in my opinion, hard cases.
ix. I also believe that acceptability should be a requirement. I want them both. Whether I can develop a line of argumentation that rationally supports this desire is another matter that I cannot deal with in this paper.

REFERENCES
Allen, D. (1997.) “Should We Assess Basic Premises For Truth Or Acceptability?” In: H.V. Hansen, C.W. Tindale & A. Colman (Eds.), Argumentation & Rhetoric, St. Catharines: OSSA. (CD-Rom).
Barth, E.M. (1987.) Logic to some purpose: Theses against the deductive-nomological paradigm in the science of logic. In: Argumentation: Across the Lines of Discipline, F.H. van Eemeren, R. Grootendorst, J.A. Blair, and C.A. Willard, Dordrecht: Foris Publications, 33-45.
Blair, J.A. Blair and R.H. Johnson. (1987.) Argumentation as dialectical. Argumentation 1, 41-56.
Bowles, G. (1990). Propositional Relevance. Informal Logic 12, 65-77.
Dennett, D. (1989.) The Intentional Stance. Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press.
van Eemeren, F.H. & R. Grootendorst. (1992.) Argumentation, Communication and Fallacies. Hillsdale, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates.
Govier, T. (1987.) Problems in argument analysis and evaluation. Dordrecht: Foris.
Govier, T. (1997.) A Practical Study of Argument. Belmont, CA: Wadsworth Publishing Co. (4th edition)
Grennan, W. (1986.) A ‘Logical Audit’ Scheme for Two-premise Arguments. Informal Logic 8, 125-32.
Grennan. W. (1997.) Informal Logic: Issues and Techniques. Kingston: Queen’s University Press.
Hamblin, C.L. (1970.) Fallacies. London: Methuen.
James, W. (1896.) The Will to Believe. In: H. S. Thayer (Ed.), Pragmatism: The Classic Writings, Indianapolis: Hackett.
Johnson, R.H. & J.A. Blair. (1993.) Logical Self-Defense. Toronto: McGraw-Hill Ryerson. (3rd edition)
Johnson, R.H. (1987.) Logic Naturalized: Recovering a Tradition.” In: F.H. van Eemeren, R. Grootendorst, J.A. Blair, and C.A. Willard, (Eds.) Argumentation: Across the Lines of Discipline. Dordrecht: Foris Publications, 48-56.
Johnson, R.H. (1993.) The Impact of the Continuum Hypothesis on Theories of Argument. In: F.H. van Eemerean, R. Grootendorst, C. Willard and J.A. Blair, Argumentation Illuminated, Amsterdam: Sicsat, 148-59.
Johnson, R.H. (1996.) The Rise of Informal Logic. Newport News, VA: Vale Press.
Johnson, R.H. (1997.) Argumentative Space: Logical and Rhetorical Approaches. In: H.V. Hansen, C.W. Tindale & A. Colman (Eds.), Argumentation & Rhetoric, St. Catharines: OSSA. (CD-Rom).
Johnson, R.H., Manifest Rationality: A Pragmatic Study of Argument. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates. (Forthcoming)
Lambert, K. & W. Ulrich. (1980.) The Nature of Argument. New York: Macmillan.
Pinto, R.C. & J A. Blair & K.E. Parr. (1993). Reasoning: A Practical Guide for Canadian Students. Toronto: Prentice-Hall.
Solomon, R. (1989.) An Introduction to Philosophy. NewYork: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich. (5th edition)
Stich, S. (1990.) The Fragmentation of Reason. Cambridge: The MIT Press.
Toulmin, S.E. (1958.) The Uses of Argument. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.




ISSA Proceedings 1998 – Figures Of Speech: Definition, Description And Critical Evaluation

ISSAlogo19981. Introduction
What are ‘figures of speech’ (henceforth: ‘FSP’)? How can they be classified? And how can we evaluate their use in keeping with the standards for rational discussions? These three general questions will be discussed in this paper.
As far as the first question is concerned, I wish to review a few attempts to define and characterize FSP. More particularly, I would like to criticize views which mainly characterize FSP as ornamental devices or as a means to make everyday language more persuasive. This way, the existence of a ‘neutral’, non-figurative language, which supposedly presents the bare facts, is taken for granted. These views were already formulated in ancient rhetoric, but still find their successors in recent theories of style which characterize FSP as a deviation from a kind of ‘zero-variety’ of language.

I would like to defend a radically different point of view, which has been developed over the last few decades by linguists, philosophers and psychologists like for example Ivor Armstrong Richards, Eugenio Coseriu, Max Black, Paul Ricoeur, Umberto Eco, George Lakoff and Mark Johnson. They suggest that FSP like metaphor, metonymy, hyperbole and irony 1) are an integral part of our ability to use language and 2) play an eminent role in our cognitive system. This role cannot be reduced to ornamental and persuasive functions, because according to this view, FSP partake in the definition of language as a creative communicative activity. Therefore, they cannot be seen as secondary phenomena which always have to be derived from a zero-variety of language via certain linguistic operations, contextual clues or conversational implicatures.
The second question will be approached by taking a critical look at various traditional and modern typologies of FSP. Several recent attempts have tried to overcome the traditional division of FSP into tropes, figures of diction, and figures of thought. There is no doubt that these new typologies provide important insights and improvements as far as modern linguistic standards of classification are concerned. However, there remain many empirical and theoretical problems which I would like to discuss briefly, using examples from various types of texts and from different languages (all examples from languages other than English will be translated; unless indicated otherwise, these translations are mine).
The third question concerns the problem of distinguishing between rational and fallacious uses of particular FSP. Most of the traditional types of fallacies are connected with problems of formulation, including those fallacies which Aristotle classified as ‘extra-linguistic’ (cf. Aristotle, soph.el. 165b). Therefore, it very often depends on how a particular line of reasoning is verbally presented with the help of FSP whether it can be considered as rational or irrational. Of course, any attempt to distinguish between rational and fallacious uses of FSP presupposes a definition of rationality. Therefore, I will first briefly deal with some problems of defining rationality and then proceed with an analysis of some examples, again taken from authentic texts in different languages.
One final remark before I begin: given the fact that there is an overwhelming amount of literature about FSP, it has become virtually impossible to deal with all the major contributions, let alone consider most or everything that has been written about FSP. So let me put it this way: I have tried to take into account as much as possible without drowning…

2. On Defining FSP
In ancient rhetoric, FSP[i] were characterized as a kind of ornament which is added to plain speech, which is merely clear and plausible. Thus FSP are conceived of as a kind of ‘clothing’, an ‘ornament’ which makes ordinary speech more attractive and efficient (cf. Quintilian inst.orat. 8.3.61: ‘ornatum est, quod perspicuo ac probabili plus est’). Further metaphorical characterizations of FSP in ancient and medieval rhetoric are ‘flores’ (flowers), ‘lumina’ (highlights) and ‘colores’ (colours) (cf. Cicero or. 3.19, 3.96, 3.201; Knape 1996: 303). More specifically, tropes are characterized by Quintilian as a kind of semantic change, where the proper meaning of a word or phrase is replaced by a new meaning which enhances the quality of speech (cf. Quintilian inst.orat. 8.6.1: ‘tropos est verbi vel sermonis a propria significatione in aliam cum virtute mutatio’). FSP in the narrow sense are defined as some artistic innovation of speech (cf. Quintilian inst.orat. 9.1.14: ‘figura sit arte aliqua novata forma dicendi’).
This perspective has been taken up and refined by modern linguistic theories of style and poetic language. Within these frameworks, FSP are conceived as deviations from everyday language. In his classical article on poetics and linguistics, Jakobson (1960: 356) has tried to formulate a general semiotic framework for a deviational perspective where ‘The set (Einstellung) toward the MESSAGE as such, the focus on the message for its own sake, is the POETIC function of the language’. This specific focus on the message for its own sake is realized by ‘the principle of equivalence’ (ibid. 358): ‘The poetic function projects the principle of equivalence from the axis of selection into the axis of combination’: semantically equivalent or similar linguistic units are selected from a paradigm in a way that phonetically equivalent or similar units are established on the syntagmatic level. For example, the adjective ‘horrible’ is selected from a lexical paradigm also containing the synonyms ‘disgusting’, ‘frightful’, ‘terrible’ etc. to produce the alliterating noun phrase ‘horrible Harry’.

Following the basic semiotic principles outlined by Jakobson, linguists and literary criticists have developed detailed and sophisticated deviational approaches, for example G. Leech (1966), T. Todorov (1967), the Belgian ‘groupe m’ (Dubois et al. 1974) and H.F. Plett (1975). I will return to these approaches (cf. section 3). Despite its intuitive appeal, deviation theory has had to face severe criticism (e.g. by Coseriu 1971, 1994: 159ff.; Spillner 1974: 39f.; Ricoeur 1975: 1173ff.; Knape 1996: 295ff.). I consider this criticism as basically justified. It is true that modern deviation theory has developed much more sophisticated standards of explicitness and consistency than ancient rhetoric. But still, the following weak points remain:
1. It is very hard to isolate a zero-variety of language which could serve as the basis from which figurative language is derived via the principle of equivalence and more specific linguistic operations. That a zero-variety is difficult to establish is conceded even by deviation theorists (cf. Todorov 1967: 97ff.; Dubois et al. 1974: 59). FSP occur – and sometimes are even extremely frequent – in many instances of everday language: in conversations, political speeches, advertising texts, fairy tales, slogans, idioms and proverbs (many examples are given by Klöpfer 1975). Moreover, Gibbs (1994: 123f.) refers to empirical studies which provide frequency counts of metaphors within different types of text. These studies show that speakers use 1.80 creative and 4.08 dead metaphors per minute of discourse. Finally, recent publications on metaphor stress the crucial role of metaphor even in languages for specific purposes (for example, in scientific language: cf. Kittay 1987: 9; Pielenz 1993: 76ff., Gibbs 1994: 169ff.).
2. Quite often FSP are not even replaceable by a ‘proper’ expression because such a proper expression simply does not exist and we have to rely on figurative language (cf. Weydt 1987, Coseriu 1994: 163). This was already acknowledged by ancient deviation theorists like Quintilian (cf. inst.orat. 8.6.6.: ‘necessitate nos ‘durum hominem’ aut ‘asperum’: non enim proprium erat quod daremus his adfectibus nomen’; cf. also Aristotle poet. 1457b 25-26).

This is not to deny the fact that in many cases we can distinguish proper and figurative language. As far as metaphor is concerned, Kittay correctly remarks: ‘One can and ought to make the literal/metaphorical distinction while agreeing that metaphors are central to our understanding and acting in the world’. Even ‘dead’ or ‘frozen’ metaphors, which have almost become ‘literal’ expressions, can be recognized as such: ‘One need only make the distinction relative to a given synchronic moment in a given language community’ (Kittay 1987: 22; cf. also Pielenz 1993: 67, n. 40). But quite often, they can no longer be replaced by ‘proper’ expressions and have become basic elements of our conceptual system.
Moreover, the psycholinguistic evidence referred to by Gibbs (1994: 80ff., 399ff.) provides reasons to assume that FSP are processed as naturally and quickly as ‘proper’ expressions. Thus, this evidence challenges the view that figurative speech requires special or additional mental processes for it to be understood. It also shows that the ability to use FSP is acquired early by children.
3. Deviation theory could imply the assimilation of FSP with mistakes, which are indeed ‘deviations’. However, unlike mistakes, FSP are the result of intentional operations. Furthermore, in the normal case the results of these operations are texts which have been adapted well for their specific purpose. It would be most implausible to assume that we first choose ‘proper’, but less adequate expressions from a zero-variety, then recognize that they are not adequate and then substitute them with figurative expressions. It is more plausible to assume that we directly select the most suitable verbal tool from the available paradigms in our language. Therefore, deviation theory should be replaced by a selection theory of style (cf. e.g. Marouzeau 1935: Xff., Spillner 1974: 64, Van Dijk 1980: 97) or, on a more general level, by a pragmatic theory which models language use as a process of selective adaptation to context (cf. Verschueren 1998).
4. FSP are phenomena occurring at the textual level of language. Traditionally prevailing views of sentence grammarians (which reappear in modern rhetorical studies like for example those of Dubois et al. 1974: 260f.) claimed that the text level does not belong to the language system proper. However, textlinguists have amply demonstrated in the past few decades (cf. e.g. Van Dijk 1980, Coseriu 1994) that the text level, too, is at least partially organized according to language-specific rules. FSP are realized by verbal strategies which form an essential part of our textual and/or communicative competence. Therefore, they are not merely secondary phenomena of ‘parole’ or linguistic performance, but partake in a definition of language as a creative, communicative activity (cf. Coseriu 1956:22: ‘la creación, la invención, es inherente al lenguaje por definición’ and Coseriu 1971, Ricoeur 1975: 87ff.; Kienpointner 1997).

From these arguments we can derive the following conclusion: FSP are not merely ornamental or aesthetic devices. Many FSP are linguistically and cognitively basic. Therefore, they inevitably shape our cognition and culture-specific views or reality. This has been especially stressed in recent studies on metaphor: ‘Our ordinary conceptual system, in terms of which we both think and act, is fundamentally metaphorical in nature’ (Lakoff/Johnson 1980: 3)[ii]. In this respect, also conventionalized tokens of FSP are particularly important because unlike newly created instances of FSP they have ceased to attract our attention and have thus become unnoticed cognitive background phenomena. At this stage of the discussion, deviation theorists would perhaps accept some of the criticism mentioned above. But they could still argue that a restricted version of deviation theory is correct under the following conditions:
1. Its claims are restricted to poetic literature in the narrow sense of the word.
2. The difference between everyday language and poetic language is no longer seen as a qualitative deviation but as a quantitative deviation: truely poetic texts like poems usually contain more FSP than, say, editorials or parlamentary speeches.
3. It is restricted to creative FSP, which have not (yet) been conventionalized.
For example, creative metaphors – unlike dead metaphors – clearly seem to deviate from everyday language. This is a plausible claim. After all, a radical view like the one taken by Nietzsche, who states that everyday speech is basically equivalent to figurative speech[iii], cannot explain the undeniable difference between creative and conventionalized FSP.

These arguments are relevant and important. Still, I believe that they can be refuted. It is true that there is a clear statistical difference between the frequency of FSP in poetic texts and everyday language. However, this difference does not justify considering poetic language as a deviation from everyday language. As FSP partake in the definition of language as a creative activity and FSP are present in all kinds of language varieties, the difference of frequency simply does not justify seeing poetic language as a deviation from other varieties of language. Rather, everyday language or scientific language could be seen as ‘deviations’ from or ‘reductions’ of poetic language. Only the latter fully exhausts the creative potential of language by using all available verbal strategies. Poetic language (or figurative language in general) can thus be seen as language in its fullest sense, as the realization of all or most creative possibilities offered by language (cf. Coseriu 1971: 184). In this respect, conventionalized FSP are not substantially different from creative FSP. In both cases, figurative patterns are used to produce texts for some communicative purpose, only that in the case of creative FSP, new ways of formulating meaningful texts are recognized and implemented by gifted individuals (who, however, need not be poets or trained speakers to be successful!). Conventionalized FSP are verbal strategies used to repeat these original creations, to ‘re-create’ tokens of utterances according to stylistic patterns which are already accepted and widely used in a speech community. But this is only a difference of degree, because new realizations of FSP can gradually spread to the whole speech community and sooner or later also become conventionalized. It is in this context that Spitzer (1961: 517f.) rightly characterized syntax and grammar as ‘frozen stylistics’. In the light of the preceding discussion, I suggest the following definition of FSP (cf. also Ricoeur 1975: 10):
FSP are the output of discourse strategies which we use to select units from linguistic paradigms of different levels (phonetics/ phonology, morphology, syntax, semantics) to create texts which are adequate as far as their communicative purpose in some context is concerned.

From the perspective of the audience, the same process can be conceived of as an infinite sequence of the interpretations of texts. This time, the FSP in a text are used as interpretive clues or hints for the attentive hearer/reader. Again, most of the time we repeat or ‘re-create’ standard interpretations of these texts. But the list of standard interpretations can be creatively extended by detecting new FSP in the text or by detecting non-traditional interpretations of well-known FSP. In this way, non-standard interpretations can be found. The use of FSP can thus be defined as an open-ended, creative communicative activity of both speaker and hearer (cf. Coseriu 1958, 1994).

3. Towards a Classification of FSP
From antiquity onwards, FSP have been classified according to the trichotomy of
1. tropes (e.g. metaphor, metonymy, hyperbole, irony),
2. figures of diction (e.g. anaphor, parallelism, climax, ellipsis)
and
3. figures of thought (e.g. rhetorical question, exclamation, persuasive definition, personification).

This typology was often taken up in (slightly) modified versions in medieval and early modern times and survives even into our times: for example, in spite of some modifications the classification of FSP in the neo-classical handbook by Lausberg (1960) still resembles the ancient typology (e.g. by taking up the distinction between tropes and figures) and the treatment in Ueding/Steinbrink (1986: 264ff.) is even closer to the ancient typology. Already Quintilian, however, conceded that there is no consensus as to the number of tropes and the delimitation of certain other FSP (inst.orat. 8.6.1). Moreover, the traditional typology offers no clear demarkation of linguistic levels, apart from the problematic dichotomic distinction of figures of diction and figures of thought (cf. Knape 1996: 310ff.). According to this dichotomy, figures of diction are fundamentally changed if the specific wording of a figure is altered. Figures of thought are said to remain the same even if the formulation is (slightly?) modified[iv]. Furthermore, promising attempts to classify all FSP according to the four basic linguistic operations used to realize them were not carried out consistently[v].
Therefore, it is not surprising that recent typologies (cf. Leech 1966, Todorov 1967, Dubois et.al. 1974, Plett 1975, 1985) try to overcome the deficiencies of the traditional typology. Most of these  typologies use two basic principles for the classification of FSP: 1) a distinction of linguistic levels at which the FSP are situated; 2) a distinction of several basic operations which realize particular FSP. I would like to stress that these principles of classification are valuable even if we are not willing to accept the deviational framework behind such typologies.

To illustrate these typologies, I have taken Plett (1975) as an example. Plett starts from a deviational perspective, but refines it considerably, distinguishing between ‘rule-violating’ deviation and ‘rule-strengthening’ deviation (cf. also Todorov 1967: 108). This way he avoids part of the criticism against deviation theory mentioned above (cf. section 2): at least some FSP are rightly classified as operations which enforce rules of everyday language – often extending their frequency of application – rather than violating them. Rule-violating deviation is based on the four elementary operations of addition, subtraction, permutation and substitution, which are executed at all linguistic levels, from the phonemic/morphemic level to text level. Some examples of FSP derived by these four operations are: prosthesis, parenthesis, tautology (addition); syncope, ellipsis, oxymoron (subtraction); metathesis, inversion, hysteronproteron (permutation); substitution of sounds or syllables, exchange of word classes, metaphor, metonymy, irony (substitution).
Rule-strengthening deviation is based on various kinds of repetition, which concern either the position of linguistic elements or their size or their degree of similarity, frequency and distribution. Here are some examples of FSP resulting from rule-strengthening deviation, again taken from various levels (from phonemic/morphemic level to text level): alliteration, assonance, anaphor, parallelism, synonymy, simile, allegory (position); rhyme (size); partial equivalence of vowels /consonants, puns, parison (similarity); the same FSP can be studied as to their frequency and distribution in a text.

ISSA1998-page-447

Plett’s elaborate classification could be subsumed under a definition of FSP like the one I have defended in section 1. From the perspective of a selection theory of style, we could see the 4 operations as an implementation of selection strategies, as a means to transform linguistic units of a paradigm into other units of the same paradigm (at the same level) and vice versa. This perspective is summarized in Figure 1:
Abbreviations: LU1-5 = Linguistic units from different paradigms at different linguistic levels (e.g. phonemic, morphemic, syntactic, semantic level): sounds, syllables, words, phrases, clauses, sentences; word meaning…sentence meaning; Operation 1-4: Addition, Subtraction, Permutation, Substitution.

This display shows that, unlike deviation theory, we need not assume that one of these linguistic units (phonemes, morphemes, phrases, clauses, word meanings and sentence meanings) is part of a zero-variety of language and all the others are derived from it. Rather than assuming a unidirectional transformation of linguistic elements which always starts from an unmarked zero-level, the four operations would be better conceived of as multilateral transformations which can operate in all directions, from linguistic unit 1 to unit 2, 3, 4, 5 as well as from unit 2 to unit 1, 3, 4, 5 etc.

ISSA1998-page-448

I will now turn to the details of Plett’s typology. Plett distinguishes the following linguistic levels: phonology, morphology, syntax, semantics and graphemics[vi]. Plett classifies all FSP according to the respective operations and levels of analysis. The following display shows a summary of Plett’s typology (1975: 148). Note that ‘rule-strengthening’ deviation is a further operation which has to be added to the 4 basic ‘rule-violating’ deviations:

Plett illustrates his typology with examples which are mainly taken from German and English poetic texts. Due to lack of space I must content myself with quoting only a few of Plett’s examples for rule-violating FSP at the semantic level (cf. Plett 1975: 252ff.). However, I have added a few further examples taken from other languages and other types of discourse such as everyday conversation, political speeches and advertisements:

I. Rule-violating Deviation at the semantic level
1. Addition:
Tautology (with the help of synonymic expressions, the same semantic content is predicated twice):
(1)
Hamlet:: There’s ne’er a villain dwelling in all Denmark
But he’s an arrant knave (W. Shakespeare, Hamlet I.5: 123f.; H. Craig: The complete Works of Shakespeare. Chicago: Scott 1951: 911)
(2)
GW: Why would you want to hack in Paoli eight hours a day?
DE: A job’s a job.
(6 March 1985; from the corpus of tautological utterances in Ward/Hirschberg 1991: 512ff.; cf. also colloquial tautologies like Boys will be boys, Business is business etc.)

2. Subtraction
Oxymoron/Paradoxon (antonymic semantic properties are ascribed to the same object simultaneously, within the same noun phrase or sentence):
(3)
Romeo: Why, then, o brawling love! O loving hate!...O heavy lightness!…cold fire, sick health! Still-waking sleep, that is not
what it is!
(W. Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet I.1.182-187; H. Craig: 397)
(4)
Opel Omega. Son silence est la plus belle des symphonies.
(Opel Omega. Its silence is the most beautiful symphony)
(LE FIGARO 491/30.9.89, S. 51)
(5)
Patria… tacita loquitur
(Our native country talks silently) (Cicero, In Catilinam 1.7.18)
(6) Cum tacent, clamant
(While being silent they shout) (Cicero, In Catilinam 1.8.21)

3. Permutation
Hysteronproteron (a clash between temporal succession and linear word order: a chronologically later event 1 is presented earlier in the text and followed by the chonologically earlier event 2 later in the text):
(7)
Ihr Mann ist tot und läßt Sie grüßen.
(Your husband is dead and sends you his regards)
(W. v. Goethe, Faust I. 2916)
4. Substitution
Metaphor (expressions containing semantic features like [+abstract] or [+visual] are combined with other expressions containing semantic features like [+concrete] or [+acoustic]/[+tactile] in the same phrase, clause or sentence):
– [+abstract] -> [+concrete]:
(8)
…hands/ That lift and drop a question on your plate
(T.S. Eliot, The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, 29f.)
(9)
stirps ac semen malorum omnium
(the root and the seed of all evils)(Cicero, In Catilinam 1.12.30)
(10)
He (= Ronald Reagan) took words and sent them out to fight for us
(Peggy Noonan, TIME 151.15 (April 13 1998): 101)
(11)
C’est une Française qui a donné une medaille à la France
(It’s a French woman who has given a medal to France)
(Roxana Maracineanu, L’EXPRESS 2439, 2/4 (1998): 10)
– [+visual] -> [+acoustic]:
(12)
Pyramus: I see a voice
(W. Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night’s Dream V.1. 194; H. Craig: 203)
– [+visual] -> [+tactile]:
(13)
Von kühnen Felsen rinnen Lichter nieder
(From bold rocks lights are flowing down) (Cl. Brentano, Der Abend)

Apart from its deviation-theoretic background, which can of course be criticized (cf. section 2), Plett’s typology is to be praised for the following reasons:
1. The principles of classification are much more transparent than in traditional classifications.
2. Standards of explicitness and demarkation are thus considerably raised.
3. The cross-classification based on basic operations and linguistic levels is carried out much more consistently than in typologies following the classical tripartite classification.

But still, important points of criticism remain. First, a high degree of intersubjective reliability has apparently been realized only at the phonological, morphological and syntactic levels. Here, different typologies classify in much the same way. This can be seen by a comparison of recent typologies by Plett and the ‘groupe m’ (Dubois et al. 1974: 80ff.; Plett 1975: 150ff.). At the semantic level there are considerable discrepancies. For example, Plett defines oxymoron as a FSP derived via semantic subtraction (cf. above), whereas Dubois et al. (1974: 200) derive it via semantic substitution:
(14)
Cette obscure clarté qui tombe des étoiles
(This dark brightness which falls from the stars)(P. Corneille, Le Cid IV.3. 1273; G. Griffe: Corneille. Le Cid. Bordas 1965: 88)

There are more examples for discrepancies at the semantic level:
Dubois et al. consider only a small part of the classical tropes to be semantic figures (‘Métasémèmes’, 1974: 152ff.), while they treat most of them as extra-linguistic logical figures (‘Métalogismes’, 1974: 204ff.). Plett, however, treats all tropes as figures of semantic deviation. The view of Dubois et al. could be criticized as the problematic equation of semantic phenomena of natural languages with the semantic phenomena of formal logic.

Another example is provided by problematic attempts to reduce semantic FSP like metaphor, metonymy and synecdoche to one basic type (e.g. metaphor to a double synecdoche, cf. Dubois et al. 1974) or to one linguistic dimension (e.g. metaphor to the paradigmatic dimension, metonymy to the syntagmatic dimension, cf. Jakobson 1971). These attempts have plausibly been criticized as instances of reductionism (cf. Ricoeur 1975: 222ff.; Eggs 1994: 188ff.; cf. also Eco’s (1985: 169ff.) encyclopedic model of metaphor, metonymy and synecdoche).
Second, a great part of the traditional ‘figures of thought’ has not been systematically integrated in recent typologies (cf. the relatively short remarks in Todorov 1967: 110; Dubois et al. 1974: 218f.; 260ff.; Plett 1975: 302). Take, for example, ‘praeteritio’ (‘faked omission’), where the speaker mentions a fact which is harmful for his opponent while pretending at the same time not to refer to it. In the following example, Cicero pretends to omit the financial problems of his enemy Catilina while at the same time mentioning them:
(15)
Praetermitto ruinas fortunarum tuarum.
(I omit the ruin of your fortune) (Cicero, In Catilinam 1.6.14)
Or see the following example of another important ‘figure of thought’, namely, rhetorical question (‘interrogatio’):
(16)
What use is a smoke alarm with dead batteries?
Don’t forget it, check it.
(The Observer, 3.3.1991, quoted after Ilie 1994: 103)
The neglect of ‘figures of thought’ in modern typologies may be due to the fact that unlike other FSP they cannot easily be classified with the help of formal and structural features.

Third, the distinction of different linguistic levels from phonology to semantics should not obscure the fact that all FSP are strategies at the textual level, that is, discourse strategies. They are means to produce and enhance adequate sense relations within a given type of discourse. Therefore, in principle all FSP could be called ‘textual’ or ‘pragmatic’ figures. Only for the sake of analysis or clearness of presentation can we isolate FSP involving phonemes, morphemes, phrases, clauses and so on (this kind of criticism is acknowledged by Plett 1975: 149; 301f.).
Finally, it has to be criticized that structural typologies tend to neglect the fact that FSP should be considered as linguistic elements having certain communicative functions like clarification, stimulation of interest, aesthetic and cognitive pleasure, modification of the cognitive perspective, intensification or mitigation of emotions etc. Ideally, each structurally identified FSP should be assigned one or more functions as a complementary part of its description (for a first attempt cf. Plett 1985: 77, quoted after Knape 1996: 340). This is also important because one and the same FSP can have different functions according to the type of text in which it is used (cf. Knape 1996: 320, 339f.).

4. Aspects of a Critical Evaluation of FSP
Any attempt to distinguish rationally acceptable uses of FSP from more or less irrational uses has to define the concept of rationality. Before I try to do so, however, I would like to criticize some unrealistic expectations as far as the rational use of FSP is concerned. Some philosophers have postulated that rational discourse has to avoid all kinds of FSP. Take the example of John Locke (1975: 508; in: ‘An Essay Concerning Human Understanding’, 3.10.34):
‘But yet, if we would speak of Things as they are, we must allow, that all the Art of Rhetorick, besides Order and Clearness, all the artificial and figurative application of Words Eloquence hath invented, are for nothing else but to insinuate wrong Ideas, move the Passions, and thereby mislead the Judgment; and so indeed are perfect  cheat: And therefore however laudable or allowable Oratory may render them in Harangues and popular Addresses, they are certainly, in all Discourses that pretend to inform and to instruct, wholly to be avoided’:

However, as my remarks on the problems of isolating a zero-variety of language have already made clear, it is simply not possible to refrain from using FSP. Of course, we can do without creating new (applications of) FSP. However, to speak or write without using any already established FSP like dead metaphors or dead metonymies, repetitions of sounds, words or phrases, parallel syntactic structures etc., is almost impossible. Even Locke in his severe criticism uses dead metaphors like ‘to move passions‘ and ‘to mislead judgment‘! (cf. Kittay 1987: 5). Nor would it be desirable to speak or write without using FSP. A postulate to present the ‘naked’ facts and nothing else – note that the postulate, too, makes use of a metaphorical expression! – is not only completely unrealistic, it also obscures the fact that FSP can make a positive contribution to the rationality of argumentation by making good arguments even stronger. Therefore, the application of stylistic strategies should not be deplored unless plausible reasons can be given that FSP have been applied in a fallacious way.
It is also impossible to ban or stigmatize specific types of FSP unconditionally. A prominent example is metaphor. Aristotle (together with other prominent authors) is often quoted as an authority for the prohibition of metaphors in rational discourse (Topics 139b, 34f.: ‘metaphorical expressions are always obscure’; transl. by Forster; cf. Pielenz 1993: 60, n. 12). However, Aristotle supports a much more sympathetic view of metaphor in his Rhetoric and Poetics, where he acknowledges its positive cognitive role[vii]:
‘To learn easily is naturally pleasant to all people, and words signify something: so whatever words create knowledge in us are the pleasantest…Metaphor most brings about learning, for when he calls old age “stubble”, he creates understanding and knowledge through the genus, since both old age and stubble are [species of the genus of] things that have lost their bloom’. Even in the Topics, he recognizes the fact that metaphors can make a certain contribution as to the better recognition of an object (Top. 140a 8-10).
Moreover, it has to be made clear that ‘metaphorical thought, in itself, is neither good nor bad; it is simply commonplace and inescapable’ (Lakoff 1991: 73, quoted after Pielenz 1993: 109, n. 141). The same metaphors can be used in a more or less rationally acceptable way, for example, ‘light’ and ‘darkness’ as metaphorical symbols for more or less respectable ideological concepts. Furthermore, different metaphorical domains, only some of which are rationally acceptable, are applied to the same concept: ‘love’ can be portrayed metaphorically as ‘war’, ‘madness’, but also as a ‘collaborative work of art’ or a ‘journey’ (Lakoff/Johnson 1980: 139ff.). Likewise, ‘anger’ can be linguistically portrayed in many different ways, for example, as ‘boiling liquid in a container’, ‘fire’, ‘explosion’ or ‘madness’ (Lakoff 1987: 397ff.).
Third, it is not plausible to ask for standards of the rational application of FSP which would be equally valid for all kinds of discussion, let alone for other types of discourse like poetry or narrative texts; here, I will mainly deal with FSP in argumentative texts. Walton’s remarks (1996: 15; cf. also Walton 1992: 19ff.) on the rationality of argumentation schemes equally apply to FSP. Plausibility judgments have to take into account if you are dealing with a quarrel, a TV talk show, a parliamentary debate, a scientific inquiry or a critical discussion in the sense of Van Eemeren/Grootendorst (1984, 1992). In a competitive type of discussion, it would not only be unrealistic, but also implausible to demand that even moderate verbal retaliations to previous attacks should be banned completely.
This would be in contradiction to widely accepted and rationally acceptable principles of fair play. But it is certainly right that in cooperative types of discussions all applications of FSP which block the goal of resolving a conflict of opinion by rational means should be prohibited.
Fourth, a distinction between acceptable and unacceptable bias has to be made (cf. Walton 1991). Neither is it unacceptable that FSP are used to enhance strong and relevant arguments nor would it be realistic to require that everybody should refrain from making their own standpoint as strong as possible. Only if a speaker uses  FSP to hide a lack of critical distance in relation to his or her standpoint and tries to immunize their own standpoint, can FSP become fallacious.

How, then, can we distinguish rational and fallacious uses of FSP in a particular type of discussion? In what follows, I shall attempt a preliminary answer to this difficult question.
First of all, I will try to elaborate a concept of rationality which could be used as the basis of standards of evaluation for FSP. This concept cannot rely on foundationalist principles of rationality if it is designed to avoid the standard criticisms of being dogmatic (cf. Kopperschmidt 1980: 121ff., 1989: 104ff.; Van Eemeren/Grootendorst 1988: 279ff.). More particularly, it is very difficult to find ideas, concepts, theories which could be accepted as universally valid foundations of rational reasoning beyond reasonable doubt. Furthermore, philosophers like Wittgenstein (1975) have rightly pointed out that standards of rationality are relative to rules of language games and forms of life. Language games can be so different that the problem of incommensurability arises (cf. Fuller/Willard 1987, Luekens 1992). Moreover, Perelman/Olbrechts-Tyteca (1983) have correctly stressed the important role of the audience. Most of the time, it is hardly possible to evaluate a particular type of argumentation without taking into account that standards of rationality differ from audience to audience (cf., however, Siegel’s (1989) criticism of relativistic positions).

In the light of these problems I prefer to take a procedural approach in defining rationality. Thus I follow the lines of reasoning developed by scholars like Habermas (1981) and Van Eemeren/ Grootendorst (1984, 1992). Habermas’ normative concept of ‘discourse’ within an ideal speech situation and Van Eemeren/Grootendorst’s code of conduct for rational discussants are interesting approximations towards a procedural definition of rationality.

However, one important problemstill remains. The discursive  procedures guaranteeing the rationality of the outcome of the discussion should be motivated in a way that the following question can be answered: why should people engage in a critical discussion in the first place? Here we ought to be realistic and should not simply postulate that rational people should behave rationally. So there should be some independent motivation. This motivation could be provided by a basic principle of rationality, which I would like to call ‘the conciliation of interests’ (cf. Kienpointner 1996a): a discussion can be called rational if and only if the outcome of the discussion leads to a conciliation of the interests of all the persons and groups involved. To a lesser degree, it could still be called rational if it at least makes some compromise between the respective parties possible. If persons who start a discussion have a realistic chance that their interests – including egoistic interests – will be at least partially taken into account, they could be willing to accept further and more detailed procedural rules. This is not a completely unrealistic assumption because all participants can now expect that the discussion will lead to some sort of compromise regardless of factors like power, gender, race or age.

Of course, such a conciliation of interests cannot be achieved in all the kinds of discussions mentioned above. Therefore, some of them are excluded as inherently irrational, for example quarrels (which is not to deny that quarrels can have useful effects for all involved persons sometimes, cf. Walton 1992). From the more general reflections above we can derive the following five global criteria for the rational acceptability of FSP:

– 1) FSP should contribute to the appropriateness of verbal contributions to the discussion, both at the informational and at the interpersonal and situational level (cf. Kienpointner 1996a and the comparable term ‘aptum’ in ancient rhetoric, e.g. Cic. or. 3.53).

More particularly, a contribution is appropriate at the informational level if it makes sure that the verbal presentation of the arguments is clear, understandable and to the point (cf. the maxims of Grice 1975 and Van Eemeren/Grootendorst 1992: 50ff.). It is appropriate at the interpersonal level if it is well adapted to the personal needs of the discussants, that is, if it is formulated in a polite, interesting, stimulating way. It is appropriate at the situational level if it is well adapted to the situational context of the discussion, that is, if it takens into account whether the discussion takes place in a public or a private context, in a tense or a relaxed atmosphere etc.

– 2) FSP should contribute to all dimensions of appropriateness.
This standard rules out the possibility that discussants use FSP with the goal of manipulating other discussants. True, in this case FSP can still be judged as highly efficient. However, they are no longer appropriate or rationally acceptable, because they are less than optimally informative and try to conceal personal interests instead of furthering a conciliation of interests. Moreover, also clear, relevant and honest formulations are not fully appropriate if discussants fail to present them in a way which makes them interesting and stimulating for the other participants of the discussion. In this case, even plausible arguments can fail to convince their audience because they appear in the form of boring and monotonous speech. And of course, it is not in the interest of all participants that strong arguments get ‘lost’.

– 3) FSP should not be used to hide a false belief or assumption.
In this case the speakers follow principles like Searle’s (1969) sincerity condition of speech acts and Grice’s (1975) maxim of quality[viii]. The only exceptions are cases where it is in the interest of the other participant(s) that the speaker uses FSP to conceal his or her real belief, for example, for reasons of politeness or to protect the feelings of the other discussant(s).

– 4) FSP should never be used to replace arguments.
This means that speakers should not use FSP to fake a substantial argument with the help of some argument-like formulation where there is none. Moreover, they should not be used to exaggerate the evidence for a certain standpoint in a way which immunizes the standpoint or even tries to preclude further discussion. It cannot be in the interest of all persons/groups involved that substantial arguments are not brought forward or that the possibility of a future revision of previous results of a discussion is prevented.

– 5) FSP should not be formulated in a way that they aggressively attack other participants in the discussion.
This criterium also holds if the aggressively attacked people are absent at the moment the respective formulations are used and the people which are present could be effectively persuaded with the help of the aggressive formulations. This is another obvious implication of the principle of the conciliation of interests: it concerns  all persons involved, whether they are present or not at the moment when the respective FSP are employed.

More specific standards can only be developed if specific FSP are discussed on the basis of authentic examples, to which I will now turn. Due to lack of time, I will only provide a short survey of some rational and irrational ways of using metaphor. For the same reason, I will not try to provide an elaborate definition of metaphor, but content myself to state that I follow interactional and conceptual approaches to metaphor (cf. Black 1983, Ricoeur 1975, Lakoff/Johnson 1980, Eco 1985: 133ff.; Lakoff 1987). A brief, but basically acceptable characterization of metaphor is given by Lakoff/Johnson (1980: 5): ‘The essence of metaphor is understanding and experiencing one kind of thing in terms of another’.

Clear cases of irrational metaphors are the verbal attacks of political opponents in public speeches which use animal metaphors (or other kinds of degrading metaphors). It cannot be in the interests of all participants to dehumanize an opponent, even if he or she is sincerely believed to be some sort of monster. Nevertheless, the history of political rhetoric provides us with many examples of this abuse of metaphor, from antiquity to our times. Here are a few of them. Demosthenes, arguably one of the greatest orators of all times, did not refrain from calling his political opponent Aischines ‘a spiteful animal’ and a ‘monkey of melodrama’ (kivnado”.. aujtotragiko; “pivqhko”; Dem. 18.242; transl. by C.A. Vince/J.H. Vince, London: Heinemann 1963: 179). In his turn, Aischines addressed Demosthenes in a no less insulting way, for example, with ‘you curse of Hellas’ (with‘” JEllavdo” ajleithvrie; Aisch. 3.131; transl. by Ch.A. Adams; London: Heinemann 1968: 411). Cicero,
maybe the only rival of Demosthenes as the putatively greatest speaker of all time, thanked Jupiter for having saved Rome from ‘a so dreadful, so horrible, so hostile plague of the republic’ (tam taetram, tam horribilem tamque infestam rei publicae pestem; In Catilinam 1.11) as his political enemy Catilina. Moreover, Cicero called Catilina’s followers ‘the scum of the republic’ (sentina rei publicae; In Catilinam 1.12), although some of these were members of the Roman senate and even present during Cicero’s speech, as he himself admits (In Catilinam 1.8).

Unfortunately, these examples from antiquity cannot be dismissed with the remark that such FSP would be impossible in modern political speech. Nowadays, the dubious practice of denigrating political opponents with animal metaphors has found many successors, among them the leaders of Nazi-Germany. To quote just a few examples: in his infamous speech of 18th February 1943 in the Berliner Sportpalast, Joseph Goebbels (in: H. Heiber (ed.): Goebbels-Reden. 2 Bde. Düsseldorf 1971; Rede Nr. 17: 182f.) formulated violent antisemitic attacks with the help of dehumanizing metaphors, calling the Jews die Inkarnation des Bösen (the incarnation of evil), Dämon des Verfalls (demon of decay), eine infektiöse Erscheinung (an infectious phenomenon), diese Weltpest (this world plague).
But also politicians in democratic systems abuse metaphors in this way, for example, former U.S. President Ronald Reagan, who called the totalitarian leader of Lybia, Moamar Gaddhafi, a mad dog. As an Austrian, I am ashamed to add our present minister of foreign affairs, Wolfgang Schüssel, member of the conservative  Austrian People’s Party (ÖVP), to this list[ix]. Several Austrian journalists, who also made statutory declarations and against whom Schüssel took no action, testified that at a press conference (here in Amsterdam in June 1997) Schüssel called the chairman of the German Central Bank, Hans Tietmeyer, a real pig (eine richtige Sau; cf. PROFIL 28, 7.7.97, p. 21).
The same kind of criticism applies to racist or sexist metaphors in clichés, slogans, proverbs or other kinds of idiomatic expressions in everyday language which dehumanize racial minorities or women. Examples can be found in many languages[x] 264.
Another kind of criticism applies to metaphors which are too obscure or very hard to understand (cf. already Aristotle rhet. 1410b 31-32; Quintilian 8.6.14ff.). This does not mean, of course, that bold or difficult metaphors have to be avoided at all costs (cf. Aristotle rhet. 1412a 9-14; Cicero or. 3.160) or in all types of discourse. In poetry, obscure metaphors can even be appreciated as a virtue of style (cf. Eco 1985: 176ff.). Moreover, ‘bold’ metaphors need not always be difficult to understand or far-fetched. Weinrich (1976: 295ff.) correctly remarks that the very concept of ‘distance’ between the two conceptual spheres which are mapped onto each other is 1) metaphorical itself (which again shows that we cannot escape metapher even when we are talking about metaphors) and 2) has no direct connection with the degree of ‘boldness’ of metaphors. Weinrich argues that common everyday metaphors like Redefluß (flow of words) connect elements with greater semantic ‘distance’ than ‘bolder’ metaphorical connections like les lèvres vertes (the green lips) in Arthur Rimbaud’s poem ‘Métropolitain’ or schwarze Milch (black milk) in Paul Celan’s poem ‘Todesfuge’ (Weinrich 1976: 303ff.; note that Weinrich classifies ‘oxymoron’ as a subtype of metaphor). However, in everyday argumentation obscure metaphors should normally not be used. It should not happen that plausible arguments are not easily understood because they contain expressions which are hard to process.
A further kind of criticism concerns metaphors which are stilistically inadequate in relation to the situational context, that is, too refined, too vulgar or simply ridiculous. Especially ridiculous metaphors do not only not contribute to the force of potentially plausible arguments, but even prevent their effectiveness.

Trivial examples of metaphors which have gone wrong in this  way are provided by slips of the tongue in public speeches, like the following example reported by Sigmund Freud (1974: 80): in the year 1908, a representative (Lattmann) tried to convince the German parliament (‘Reichstag’) to express the common will of the German people in an address to the emperor, William II., and intended to continue: ‘if we can do that in a way that truly respects the feelings of the emperor, we should do that without reserves‘ (‘wenn wir das in einer Form tun können, die den monarchischen Gefühlen durchaus Rechnung trägt, so sollen wir das auch rückhaltlos tun’). However, the speaker unwillingly produced a  metaphor which not only expressed the opposite of what he wanted to say but was also ridiculous in the given institutional context; it caused laughter which went on for some minutes: ‘wenn wir das…tun können, so sollen wir das auch rückgratlos tun’ (lit. ‘if we can do that…we should do that spinelessly‘, that is, ‘we should act without backbone, in a bootlicking way‘).
Of course, in this case we are not dealing with an FSP as the result of a verbal strategy, but with a mistake, a deviation in the narrow sense of the word. But there are cases where metaphors cannot achieve their goal even if they are intentionally used by a participant in a discussion, for example, when they mix up several hardly compatible conceptual spheres.

The following dialogue provides an example: in a debate which took place in the year 1978, the opponents were two German physicians, J. Hackethal and C.F. Rothauge. At that time, Hackethal was well known for his severe criticism of orthodox medicine. Rothauge accuses Hackethal of exaggerating his criticism beyond reasonable limits. To enforce his arguments, Rothauge combines a traditional metaphor with an innovative extension of the conceptual sphere of the traditional metaphor (cf. Pielenz 1993: 111ff.) and a comparison (SPIEGEL 40.2 (1978): 155):
(17)
ROTHAUGE: Ich kann dazu nur sagen, daß Herr Kollege Hackethal in der Manier eines Michael Kohlhaas nun hier das Kind mit dem Bade ausschüttet und dann noch die Mutter mit der Badewanne totschlägt. (The only thing I can say is that my colleague, Mr. Hackethal, acting like a second Michael Kohlhaas, is now throwing out the baby with the bathwater and then goes on to kill the mother with the bathtub)
………..
HACKETHAL: …zu Zeiten von Kohlhaas gab’s noch keine Badewannen….
(…in Kohlhaas’ days, bathtubs had not been invented…)

To demonstrate that Hackethal overstates his point, Rothauge not only uses the traditional metaphor to throw out the baby with the bathwater, but also hyperbolically extends it (to kill the mother with the bathtub; on extensions of metaphorical domains cf. Lakoff/Johnson 1980: 139; Pielenz 1993: 71ff.). Adding a comparison  of Hackethal with the legendary M. Kohlhaas (1500-1540, a German merchant who became a symbol of fanatic struggles for justice without success), Rothauge himself comes close to overstatement. Therefore, he can be criticized of combining to many semantic spheres which are only partially compatible and thus forming a somehow inconsistent whole. This is recognized by his opponent Hackethal who tries to ridicule Rothauge’s remark by pointing out the internal inconsistency of his FSP.

What, then, are clear cases of rationally used metaphors? The treatment of irrational metaphors has already partially answered this question: as good metaphors are the opposite of bad ones, they have to avoid aggressive attacks and have to be easily understandable, clear and consistent. But more than this, they should also provide interesting cognitive insights and shed new light upon the debated problem. The following metaphorical argument from an article on Martin Luther King seems to be a good candidate:
(18)
It is only because of King and the movement he led that the U.S. can claim to be the leader of the “free world” without inviting smirks of disdain and disbelief…How could America have convincingly inveighed against the Iron Curtain while an equally oppressive Cotton Curtain remained draped across the South? (Jack E. White, in TIME Magazine 151.15 (1998): 88)

In this passage, the relevance of White’s argument is guaranteed by a warrant which is called the rule of justice by Perelman/Olbrechts-Tyteca (1983: 294; Kienpointner 1992: 294ff.). According to this type of warrant, persons, groups or social institutions who can be subsumed under the same category have to be treated equally: all human beings, for example, have to be granted fundamental human rights by the respective authorities. It can hardly be denied that violations of the human rights of black people were widespread in the U.S. even after the Supreme Court struck down racial segregation in 1954. Moreover, these offenses were comparable with at least some of the severe violations of human rights in the former Eastern block. One could reply that the total amount of violations of basic human rights was higher in the Eastern block than in the U.S. and that, therefore, the rule of justice cannot apply. But this remark would come close to the fallacy of the two wrongs: even a higher rate of violations of human rights in the east could not justify violations of human rights in the west. Therefore, White’s argument can be judged plausible because a U.S. criticism of human-rights offenses in the former Communist countries could hardly have been consistent without a commitment to high standards of civil rights in America.

To enhance the strength of his argument, White 1) formulates it as a rhetorical question and thus increases the direct involvement of the reader, and 2) uses a dead metaphor (Iron Curtain) together with a creative metaphor (Cotton Curtain) and thus increases the weight of his argument according to the rule of justice. Recall that the latter asks for identical treatment of persons or institutions belonging to the same category. Now the new metaphor (Cotton Curtain) makes it cognitively much easier to perceive the oppressive treatment of black people in the U.S.A. and the oppressive treatment of citizens in the Communist states as parallel cases. If my analysis of White’s argument is acceptable, this has been an example of a rational use of metaphor. Unfortunately, most arguments involving metaphors neither belong to the clearly rational nor the clearly irrational cases. They lie somewhere in between and evaluative assessments will vary according to the cultural and political background of the hearers/readers. I wish to conclude this section providing a few examples of borderline cases: in newspaper reports, editorials, comments and political speeches the Hong Kong handover in July 1997 was metaphorically portrayed quite differently by authors and speakers with a western and/or a democratic background and those of a Chinese and/or a communist background, respectively. These two groups include on the one hand western journalists, British ex-governor Chris Patten or members of the pro-democracy movement in Hong Kong like Martin Lee, and on the other hand mainland-Chinese journalists, representatives of the newly established Provisional Legislative Council of Hong Kong like Tung Chee Hwa or the President of the People’s Republic of China, Jiang Zemin[xi]. Here are some metaphors used by the opposed parties. On the one hand, in the German and Austrian press and in media from the English and French speaking world, Hongkong is often metaphorically called ‘a jewel’ or the ‘crown jewel’ (‘das Kronjuwel’, ‘ein Juwel’ cf. Th. Sommer, ZEIT Punkte 3 (1997): 72; 73; cf. similarly: Tiroler Tageszeitung 148 (1997): 7;  H.L. Müller in Salzburger Nachrichten June 28 (1997): 1), ‘one of the safes of the planet’ (‘un des coffres-forts de la planète’; Frédéric Bobin in LE MONDE June 29./30 1997: 12), ‘a bride’ (‘the bride Hongkong…is bringing…the biggest dowry since Cleopatra’: ‘die Braut Hongkong…bringt …seit Kleopatra die größte Mitgift’; Th. Sommer, ZEIT Punkte 3(1997): 73), ‘the goose which lays golden eggs’ (‘die Gans, die…die goldenen Eier legt’; ibid. 76; cf. similarly H. Bögeholz in ainfo (= the newsletter of the Austrian section of Amnesty International) July (1997): 6; B.  Voykowitsch in DER STANDARD July 1 (1997): 30), Martin Lee claims that ‘Beijing is putting a noose around the goose’s neck and still expecting it to lay golden eggs’ (TIME July 1 (1997): 24): – the future of Hong Kong is often conceived of pessimistically, for example, some fear that ‘Hong Kong could become the Miami of China, dominated by the underworld, awash in dirty and laundered money and swamped with migrants from China’ (TIME July 1 (1997): 26);
– Great Britain is still sometimes referred to as Hong Kong’s ‘motherland’ (‘Mutterland Großbritannien’; U.J. Heuser, ZEIT Punkte 3 (1997): 78); – the People’s Republic of China is called ‘the giant in the north’ (‘der Koloß im Norden’; ibid. 81), ‘the only master of the area’ (‘Pékin a démontré que la Chine était désormais le seul maître des lieux’; Francis Deron in LE MONDE July 3 1997: 4), the Provisional Legislative Council is called a ‘shadow parliament’ (‘Schattenparlament’, ainfo July (1997): 7), whose members were ‘handpicked’ by Beijing (‘handverlesen’; ibid. 8), the members of the pro-democratic camp are said to be unsure how to fight ‘an adversary as formidable as mainland China’ (TIME July 1 (1997): 24).

On the other hand, in Chinese sources, – the People’s Republic of China is called Hong Kong’s ‘motherland’ (China Today July (1997): 7), the handover is ‘the return of Hong Kong to the motherland’ and is ‘erasing a century-old national humiliation’ (ibid.), the Chinese people struggled to wipe out their national humiliation (ibid.); the interests of Hong Kong and China are ‘intricately linked and intertwined’ (Tung Chee Hwa in his speech at the Special Administrative Region Establishment Ceremony, in: South Morning Post July 2 (1997): 8). In the same vein, Chinese President Jiang Zemin calls ‘Hong Kong’s return to the motherland…a shining page in the annals of the Chinese nation’ (South Morning Post July 2 (1997)); – Tung Chee Hwa writes that the inhabitants of Hong Kong are finally ‘the masters of our own house’ (NEWSWEEK May-July (1997): 48) and calls the last-minute pro-democratic reforms of Britain ‘political baggage’ (ibid. 49); – the future of Hong Kong is seen optimistically (e.g. by Tung Chee Hwa in his speech at the Special Administrative Region Establishment Ceremony: ’We can now move forward… to lead Hong Kong to new heights’; South Morning Post July 2 (1997): 8), ‘Hong Kong and the mainland will move forward together, hand in hand’ (ibid.).

These two groups of metaphors follow the criteria for a rational use of FSP I stated above, at least to a certain degree : all in all, they are not aggressively dehumanizing the political opponent and they are clear and consistent. At the same time, the examples show that both groups of metaphors are strongly biased to one side of the question. However, if you do not share the cultural and political values which are presupposed and metaphorically reinforced by the respective parties, it becomes quite difficult to judge whether either sort of bias could be rationally justified or not (remember that bias in itself is not a sufficient criterium for a fallacious use of FSP). Perhaps one could argue that metaphors which do not exclusively portray Hong Kong as part of the western culture on the one hand or part of the Chinese tradition on the other would be more rational insofar they arguably are more in the interest of all parties involved. Luckily, such metaphors have been used, too: for example, both Chinese President Jiang Zemin and Britain’s Foreign Minister, Robin Cook, have metaphorically called Hong Kong a ‘bridge’ between China, Britain and the rest of world (cf. South Morning Post July 2 (1997); DER STANDARD July 1 (1997): 2). Let’s hope that this metaphor, rather than more aggressive ones, will shape future discursive treatments of this important political issue and the resulting policies…

5. Conclusion
The remarks I have made in this paper have more often than not been only sketchy (esp. in sections 3 and 4). Obviously, there is still a great deal more work to do before a full answer to the three basic questions concerning the definition, classification and critical evaluation of FSP can be given. I would like to finish with a short list of open problems. Definitions of FSP should try to solve the difficult question of how to elaborate a clearer distinction between creative and conventionalized uses of FSP (e.g. creative and dead metaphors). Typologies of FSP should apply the standards of explicitness and demarkation achieved in recent approaches while integrating the so far missing classes of FSP which have traditionally been classified as figures of thought. As far as the evaluation of FSP is concerned, one of the goals should be the formulation of complete and detailed lists of critical questions as to the rational use of FSP, very much in the same way as these critical questions have already been elaborated for argumentation schemes (cf. Van Eemeren/Kruiger 1987, Kienpointner 1996a, Walton 1996).

NOTES
i. Note that I use of this term in its broadest sense, including both tropes and FSP in the narrow sense, that is, figures of diction and figures of thought.
ii. Similarly, Ricoeur remarks (1975: 25): ‘Il n’y a pas de lieu non métaphorique d’où l’on pourrait considerer la métaphore, ainsi que toutes les autres figures, comme un jeu déployé devant le regard’.
iii. ‘Eigentlich ist alles Figuration, was man gewöhnliche Rede nennt’; quoted after Knape 1996: 293.
iv. ‘Sed inter conformationem verborum et sententiarum hoc interest, quod verborum tollitur, si verba mutaris, sententiarum permanet, quibuscumque verbis uti velis’; Cic. or. 3.200.
v. The four operations are: addition, subtraction, substitution, permutation (‘adiectio, detractio, immutatio, transmutatio’; cf. Quintilian inst. orat. 1.5.38).
vi. I will not deal with graphemics here.
vii. Cf. rhet. 1410b 10-15; translation by G.A. Kennedy: Aristotle: On Rhetoric. Oxford: Oxford Univ. Press 1991: 244; cf. also Arist. poet. 1459a 5-8; Ricoeur 1975: 49; Eco 1985: 151; Kittay 1987: 2ff.
viii. For a synthesis of the approaches of Searle and Grice see Van Eemeren/Grootendorst 1992: 51.
ix. Not to mention the Austrian right wing politician Jörg Haider, who frequently uses dehumanizing metaphors as a political strategy, cf. Scharsach 1992: 214f.
x. The following examples are taken from English, French and German: there’s a nigger in the woodpile, parler petit nègre (to talk gibberish, lit.: to talk little negroe), daherkommen wie ein Zigeuner (to have a scruffy appearance, lit.: to come along like a gypsy); cf. also the widespread habit of calling women chicken, cows, bitches; poules, lièvres, souris; Hasen, Bienen, Bären; for racist metaphors in the media cf. e.g. Van Dijk 1993: 263f.
xi. I would like to thank my colleague Shi Xu, University of Singapore, for allowing me to use part of his English data concerning the Hong Kong handover.

REFERENCES
Aristotle (1959). Rhetoric. Ed. by W.D. Ross. Oxford: Clarendon.
Aristotle (1960). Posterior Analytics. Ed. and transl. by H. Tredennick. Topica. Ed. and transl. by E.S. Forster. London: Heinemann.
Aristotle (1965). Poetics. Ed. by R. Kassel. Oxford: Clarendon.
Aristotle (1958). Topics. Sophistical Refutations. Ed. by W.D. Ross. Oxford: Clarendon.
Black, M. (1983). Die Metapher. In: A. Haverkamp (Hg.): Theorie der Metapher (pp. 55-79), Darmstadt: Wiss. Buchgesellschaft.
(German Translation of: M. Black: Metaphor. In: Proceedings of the Aristotelian Society 55 (1954), 273-294).
Cicero (1951). De oratore. Ed. by A.S. Wilkins. Oxford: Clarendon.
Coseriu, E. (1956). La creación metafórica en el lenguaje. Montevideo: Univ. de la República.
Coseriu, E. (1958). Sincronia, diacronia e historia. Montevideo: Univ. de la República.
Coseriu, E. (1971). Thesen zum Thema ‘Sprache und Dichtung’. In: W.D. Stempel (Hg.): Beiträge zur Textlinguistik (pp. 183-188), München: Fink.
Coseriu, E. (1994). Textlinguistik. Tübingen: Francke.
Dubois, J. et al. (1974). Allgemeine Rhetorik. München: Fink (German Translation of: J. Dubois et al.: Rhétorique générale. Paris Larousse 1970).
Eco, U. (1995). Semiotik und Philosophie der Sprache. München: Fink (German Translation of: U. Eco: Semiotics and the philosophy of language. London: Macmillan 1984).
Eggs, E. (1994). Grammaire du discours argumentatif. Paris: Kimé.
Freud, S. (1974). Zur Psychopathologie des Alltagslebens. Frankfurt/ M: Fischer.
Fuller, S. & Ch.A. Willard (1987). In Defense of Relativism: Rescuing Incommensurability from the Self-Excepting Fallacy. In: F. Van Eemeren et al. (eds.), Argumentation. Perspectives and Approaches (pp. 313-320), Dordrecht: Foris.
Gibbs, R. (1994). The Poetics of Mind. Cambridge: Cambridge Univ. Press.
Grice, H.P. (1975). Logic and Conversation. In: P. Cole & J.L. Morgan (eds.), Syntax and Semantics 3 (pp. 41-58), New York: Academic Press.
Habermas, J. (1988). Theorie des kommunikativen Handelns. 2 Bde. Frankfurt/M.: Suhrkamp.
Ilie, C. (1994). What Else Can I Tell You? A Pragmatic Study of English Rhetorical Questions as Discursive and Argumentative Acts. Stockholm: Almqvist &Wiksell.
Jakobson, R. (1960). Closing Statement: Linguistics and Poetics. In: Th.A. Sebeok (ed.). Style in Language (pp. 350-377), Cambridge/ Mass.: MIT-Press.
Jakobson, R. (1971). Two Aspects of Language and Two Types of Aphasic Disturbances. In: R. Jakobson, Selected Writings. Vol. 2. (pp. 239-259), Mouton: The Hague.
Kienpointner, M. (1992). Alltagslogik. Stuttgart: Frommann-Holzboog.
Kienpointner, M. (1996a). Vernünftig argumentieren. Reinbek: Rowohlt.
Kienpointner, M. (1996b). Whorf and Wittgenstein. Language, World View and Argumentation. In: Argumentation 10: 475-494.
Kienpointner, M. (1997). Sprache, Dichtung, Kreativität. Bemerkungen zu Eugenio Coserius Thesen zu Sprache und
Dichtung. In: M. Sexl (Hg.), Literatur? (pp. 69-90), Innsbruck: StudienVerlag.
Kittay, E.F. (1987). Metaphor. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
Kloepfer, R. (1975). Poetik und Linguistik. München: Fink.
Knape, J. (1996). Figurenlehre. In: G. Ueding (Hg.), Historisches Wörterbuch der Rhetorik. Bd. 3. (pp. 289-342), Tübingen: Niemeyer.
Kopperschmidt, J. (1980). Argumentation. Stuttgart: Kohlhammer.
Kopperschmidt, J. (1989). Methodik der Argumentationsanalyse. Stuttgart: Frommann-Holzboog.
Lakoff, G. (1987). Women, Fire and Dangerous Things. Chicago: Chicago Univ. Press.
Lakoff, G. (1991). War and Metaphor. The Metaphor System Used to Justify War in the Gulf. In: P. Grzybek (ed.), Cultural semiotics: Facts and Facets (pp. 73-92), Bochum: Brockmeyer.
Lakoff, G. & M. Johnson (1980). Metaphors we Live by. Chicago: Chicago Univ. Press.
Lausberg, H. (1960). Handbuch der literarischen Rhetorik. München: Hueber.
Leech, G.N. (1966). A Linguistic Guide to English Poetry. London: Longmans.
Locke, J. (1975). An Essay Concerning Human Understanding. Ed.by P.H. Nidditch. Oxford: Clarendon Press.
Geert-Lueke Lueken (1992). Inkommensurabilität als Problem rationalen Argumentierens. Stuttgart: Frommann-Holzboog.
Marouzeau, J. (1935). Traité de stylistique. Paris: Les Belles Lettres.
Perelman, Ch. & L. Olbrechts-Tyteca (1983). Traité de l’argumentation. La nouvelle rhétorique. Bruxelles: Editions de l’université.
Pielenz, M. (1993). Argumentation und Metapher. Tübingen: Narr.
Plett, H.F. (1975). Textwissenschaft und Textanalyse. Heidelberg: Quelle & Meyer.
Plett, H.F. (1985). Rhetoric. In: T.A. Van Dijk (ed.), Discourse and Literature (pp. 59-84), Amsterdam.
Quintilianus (1970). Institutio oratoria. Ed. by M. Winterbottom. Oxford: Oxford Univ. Press.
Ricoeur, P. (1975). La métaphore vive. Paris: Editions du Seuil.
Scharsach, H.H. (1992). Haiders Kampf. Wien: Orac.
Searle, J. (1969). Speech Acts. Cambridge: Cambridge Univ. Press.
Siegel, H. (1989). Epistemology, Critical Thinking and Critical Thinking Pedagogy. In: Argumentation 3.2, 127-140.
Spillner, B. (1974). Linguistik und Literaturwissenschaft. Stuttgart: Kohlhammer.
Spitzer, L. (1961). Stilstudien. Bd 2. München: Hueber.
Thucydides. (1952). The History of the Peloponnesian War (Richard Crawley, Trans.). Chicago: Encyclopaedia Britannica.
Todorov, T. (1967). Littérature et signification. Paris: Larousse.
Ueding, G. & B. Steinbrink (1986). Grundriß der Rhetorik. Geschichte – Technik -Methode. Stuttgart: Metzler.
Van Dijk, T.A. (1980). Textwissenschaft. München: dtv.
Van Dijk, T.A. (1993). Elite Discourse and Racism. London: Sage.
Van Eemeren, F. & R. Grootendorst (1984). Speech Acts in Argumentative Discussions. Dordrecht: Foris.
Van Eemeren, F. & R. Grootendorst (1988). Rationale for a Pragma-Dialectic Perspective. In: Argumentation 2.2, 271-291.
Van Eemeren, F. & R. Grootendorst (1992). Argumentation, Communication and Fallacies. Hillsdale, N.J.: Erlbaum.
Van Eemeren, F. &T. Kruiger (1987). Identifying Argumentation Schemes. In: F. Van Eemeren et al. (eds.), Argumentation. Perspectives and Approaches (pp. 70-81), Dordrecht: Foris.
Verschueren, J. (1998). Understanding Pragmatics. London: Arnold.
Walton, D. (1991). Bias, Critical Doubt and Fallacies. In: Argumentation and Advocacy 28, 1-22.
Walton, D. (1992). The Place of Emotion in Argument. University Park, PA: Pennsylvaina State Univ. Press.
Walton, D. (1996). Argumentation Schemes for Presumptive Reasoning. Mahwah, N.J.: Erlbaum.
Ward, G.L./J. Hirschberg (1991). A Pragmatic Analysis of Tautological Utterances. In: Journal of Pragmatics 15.6, 507-520.
Weinrich, H. (1976). Sprache in Texten. Stuttgart: Klett.
Weydt, H. (1987). Metaphern und Kognition. In: J. Lüdtke (Hg.), Energeia und Ergon. Studia in honorem Eugenio Coseriu. Bd 3. (pp. 303-311), Tübingen: Narr.
Wittgenstein, L. (1975). Philosophische Untersuchungen. Frankfurt/ M.: Suhrkamp.

 




ISSA Proceedings 1998 – Dialogical Argumentation: Statement-Based, Argument-Based And Mixed Models

ISSAlogo19981. Introduction
The dialectical style of studying argumentation is old, very old. Already Aristotle and Protagoras did recognize the dialectical nature of argumentation. A few millennia later, from the beginning of the 1990s onwards to be exact, researchers involved in the field of Artificial Intelligence & Law (AI & Law) became interested in dialogical models of argumentation [e.g., Gordon, 1993; Loui et al., 1993; Farley & Freeman, 1995; Lodder & Herczog, 1995; Prakken, 1995; Kowalski & Toni, 1996]. By approaching argumentation dialogically the research on AI & Law followed in the footsteps of prominent researchers from various fields, like philosophy [e.g., Perelman & Olbrechts-Tyteca, 1971; Habermas, 1973; Rescher, 1977], logic [e.g., Lorenz, 1961; Barth & Krabbe, 1982], legal theory [e.g., Aarnio, Alexy & Peczenik et al., 1981], and argumentation [e.g., Hamblin, 1970; Van Eemeren & Grootendorst, 1982; Woods & Walton, 1982].

There is a difference between the product and process of argumentation. If the product of argumentation is studied, general structures of support between sets of premises and a conclusion are defined. In a product-approach of argumentation a statement is justified:
– if the premises are justified, and
– if by valid inference,
– the conclusion can be derived from the premises.

The product of argumentation is static. Conversely, the process of argumentation is dynamic. If the process of argumentation is studied procedural rules are defined that determine for each stage of the process whether a statement is justified. In a process approach of justification a statement is justified:
– if after a sequence of one or more steps, the statement is justified according to the rules of the procedure.

If the procedural model of argumentation is defined as a dialog game, statements are justified if they are successfully defended in a dialog, that is, if a player (the proponent of the statement) succeeded in convincing his opponent. A commonly accepted starting point in dialogical models is that a player who claims a sentence must be willing to defend it, or, in other words, on the claiming players rests the burden of proof. This paper elaborates on the various ways this defense can be modeled. Therefore, three dialogical models of argumentation are discussed. One, probably the best known dialogical model of argumentation, stems from the field of argumentation: MacKenzie’s DC. The other two are AI & Law models: Gordon’s Pleadings Game and my own DiaLaw. Especially by concentrating on the possible moves of the game and the way in which commitment is used, these models will be characterized. Moreover, by showing a representation of the same sample dialog in the three models differences are illustrated. The reason to discuss these three models is that they are examples of what I like to call statement-based models (DC), argument-based models

(Pleadings Game), and mixed models (DiaLaw). Besides introducing this taxonomy of models, the different model types are related to the possible purposes of argumentation models, viz. empirical purposes, theoretical purposes and normative purposes.

The paper is structured as follows. First, definitions are given of both arguments and statements. Subsequently, the legal sample dialog is introduced and the three models are discussed. Finally, the possible purposes of argumentation models are briefly introduced, and it is suggested that a statement-based model is best suited as an empirical model, that a mixed-model is best-suited as a theoretical model, and that an argument-based model is best suited as normative model.

2. Terminology
There is a difference between a statement and an argument. Suppose we have two statements:
1. Jeffrey is punishable, and;
2. Jeffrey has intentionally killed someone.
An argument shows a relation between statements. Arguments indicate that a statement supports or justifies another statement. An example is the argument that Jeffrey is punishable, because he has intentionally killed someone.

Since we are dealing with dialogical models, the discussion is restricted to statements and arguments that are putted forward in a dialog. If a concrete support relation is expressed, what is asserted is called an argument. If the support relation is general, e.g., a rule or principle, what is asserted is called a statement. In fact, if not a concrete support relation is expressed, what is asserted is called a statement. An argument indicates a support relation between sentences or propositions that could be expressed as statements.
Since everybody is familiar with the Modus Ponens argument, I will use this argument type to illustrate the difference between a statement and an argument. The premises A and A _ B together with the conclusion B can be used in the following Modus Ponens argument.

A
A -> B
_______
B

Note that the Modus Ponens argument in fact has three elements.
First, a set of premises: {A -> B, A}. Second, a conclusion: B.
Finally, a derivation rule (implicitly present in the Modus Ponens argument), that guarantees that if the set of premises is accepted, it is warranted to accept the conclusion:[i] If {A -> B, A}, then B. If the premises or conclusion of this Modus Ponens argument are introduced in the dialog, and they are not a part of an argument, they are statements, e.g., A, B, A & B, A -> B, etc.

3. A sample dialog
In all models, that is MacKenzie’s DC, Gordon’s Pleadings Game, and DiaLaw, there are two parties (see [Lodder, 1998] for a detailed discussion of each of these models). In the representations of the sample dialog in the following sections, the participants of the dialog are named as in the original work. The dialog is based on the following case.

On October 3, 1991, Tyrell attends a football game with two fellow gang members. The week before there had been a shooting incident at a game. The police is afraid that it will happen again and is therefore very vigilant. One of Tyrell’s gang members attracts the attention of the police officers, because he is wearing a heavy, quilted coat – although the temperature is in the eighties.[ii]  They are all searched, and on Tyrell marihuana is found. So far it seems a clear case of illegally obtained evidence, but there is a complicating factor. Namely, Tyrell had been placed on probation subject to, amongst others, the condition: “to submit to a search of his person and property, with or without a warrant, by any law enforcement officer…”. The searching officer, however, is unaware of the probation condition. The question that arises is the following. Is evidence concerning the possession of marihuana obtained illegally, because the search was without probable cause, or was the evidence obtained legally given the probation condition? In the example dialog we concentrate on two arguments:
– Only suspects may be searched, and Tyrell was not a suspect;
– One of Tyrell’s probation conditions was that he had to allow search any time.
Bert: It was not allowed to search Tyrell.
Ernie: Why do you think so?
Bert: Only if someone is a suspect he may be searched, and Tyrell was not a suspect.
Ernie: I agree, but Tyrell was on probation and had to allow a search at any time.
Bert: You are right, search was allowed.

In subsequent sections each game is briefly introduced and demonstrated by using this example dialog. The following abbreviations are used:
– sa = search was allowed;
– s = suspect;
– pc = probation condition.

4. Statement-based dialogical models
To investigate fallacies, Hamblin [1970, p. 265f.] developed the dialog game ‘Why-Because system with questions’, often abbreviated as ‘H’. To my knowledge, the game H was the first to use the notion of commitment in dialogs and the possibility to retract moves. A well-known variant of the game H is the game DC by MacKenzie [1979]. The players exchange statements.

4.1 Moves
The players perform moves in turn, and are only allowed to make one locution at each turn. There are five different locutions or move types.[iii]
The move Statement is used for the introduction of statements. In addition to normal statements, also the ordinary compounds of statements may be claimed. After the move statement, both players are committed to the statement. The principle silence implies consent is used, because it saves time (not every statement a player agrees to has to be conceded) and it fits in with daily life discussions (normally someone will let it be known if he disagrees). The principle structures the dialog: it forces the players to react to what the other says, in order to prevent commitment to statements they do not want to be committed to.

Move type - Representation

Move type – Representation

The move Withdrawal is used for the retraction of statements. The challenge is a demand for evidence for a particular statement.
The resolution demand is meant to confront the opponent with an inconsistency in his commitment store.
A question (is it the case that P?) forces the opponent to make his position about the statement P clear. There are no preconditions for this move, what makes it possible for instance to ask this question to a player who is already committed to P. Although this appears to be redundant, a player may sometimes want to be sure. For instance, if a player introduces the material implication ‘If P then Q’ in order to prove Q, he may want to be sure about the opponent’s position regarding P.

4.2 Commitment
The commitment stores in DC are empty at the beginning of the dialog. This is different from Hamblin [1970, p. 265], who included the axioms of the language in the initial commitment store. In Mac-Kenzie’s game each player has his own commitment store, in which the statements are stored that he is committed to.
The commitment store is not closed under logical consequence. It is for instance possible to be committed to P -> Q, P and ~Q. Only immediate contradiction, e.g., P and not P, is forbidden. The idea behind this way of modeling commitment is that a player is not omniscient and cannot be aware of all consequences of his commitments, especially not when these consequences are remote. In one of the systems discussed in Hamblin [1971] commitment is closed under logical consequence, and it appears that such strict commitment is not very useful in modeling (daily life) discussions.

Wilma & Bob

Wilma & Bob

4.3 The example dialog
The game starts with the Wilma’s statement that search was not allowed. In the second move Bob challenges the statement Wilma started with. In defense Wilma puts forward the statement that there was not a suspect. Bob replies with the statement that if the probation condition is fulfilled, search is allowed. On the basis of this information Wilma decides that search was allowed after all.

5. Argument-based dialogical models
After nonmonotonic logics were introduced in a special issue of Artificial Intelligence in 1980, many new nonmonotonic logics have been developed. Generally characterized, these logics aim to model human reasoning by using theories of defeasible knowledge. From more recent date are the argument-based approaches, known as formal argumentation. [e.g., Vreeswijk, 1993; Pollock, 1994; Gordon, 1995; Verheij, 1996]. In these approaches the notions of argument and counterargument are central. Put simply, in the argument-based theories a conclusion is justified only if it is supported by an undefeated argument.

Gordon’s Pleadings Game [1995] is used as an example of an argument-based model.

5.1 Moves
A player can declare a rule. If a player declares a rule, he claims that the way he represents the rule is accurate. A rule expresses a general relation between a condition and a conclusion. A rule is not necessarily based on legislation, but can be based on a legal principle as well, or on whatever other general relation the player likes to express. Rules play an important role in the Pleadings Game, because arguments are based on rules. This brings us to the move in which arguments are introduced.

An argument is introduced as a request to the opponent to defend his statement against the argument. So, an argument only indirectly supports one’s own standpoint, and directly attacks the statement of the opponent.[iv]

Statements can be part of the game, but are only introduced indirectly: the consequence of a move can be that a statement is added. For instance, if an argument is introduced, the condition of the argument becomes a statement in the game. So, if a player introduces an argument in which A is meant to support p, his opponent can react to the statement A. He can either concede A, question A, or adduce an argument against A.

5.2 Commitment
Gordon’s way of handling commitment is rather complicated. Each player is committed to statements in four different sets. It is confusing in the present context, but arguments are called statements in Gordon’s work. The statements of a player are stored in the triple i O, D, C.

The proponent (ᴾ) is in the first place committed to all statements he claimed and the opponent did not respond to (Oᴾ), deny (Dᴾ), or concede (Cᴾ). Furthermore, he is committed to statements claimed by his opponent (