A topos in Danish public debate is former Prime Minister Jens Otto Krag’s notorious remark: “You hold a position until you take another!”[i] Krag said this in 1966 when he formed the Social-Democratic Government, supported by the left wing party SF – the ‘Red Cabinet’ – in spite of his former statements that he would never do so (Wikipedia, retrieved June 22, 2010). Krag’s one-liner is frequently alluded to when politicians go back on their words and make a decision that is considered a breach of promise, in particular when, after the election, they break an election pledge.

The case that I present in this paper concerns such an election pledge and its aftermath. It is known as ‘the Five Thousand Cheap Flats’ and is a case that has caused intense public debate in Denmark. The case relates to the prominent Danish politician Ritt Bjerregaard of the party The Social Democrats. In her election campaign to become Lord Mayor of Copenhagen she made it a top issue to provide housing that ordinary citizens could afford. She was elected and took office as Lord Mayor for the period 2006-2009, but the great construction plan failed.
I approach this case as an example of unfair political argumentation,[ii] one that belongs to a general kind of improper argumentative conduct, namely that of ‘fudging speech acts’. By this expression I refer to violations of fair argumentation in which arguers communicate manipulatively with regard to the speech acts they perform: they deny the act they are performing or have performed, they pretend not to perform the speech act that they actually are performing, or they say that they are performing another speech act than the one they are engaged in. We encounter the fudging of speech acts when for instance arguers say that they are not making a threat while doing it, or when politicians avow that they only want to inform the citizens when actually trying to persuade or convince. Likewise, politicians and other public debaters tend to make apologies without really doing it – or to do it for other purposes than they pretend.[iii] As these examples indicate, I propose the ‘fudging of speech acts’ as a general term for a pattern of political debate conduct that involves various illocutionary and perlocutionary types of speech acts, in which the arguers relay their speech act to the audience in a way that is misleading in the situation. The word ‘fudge’ seems appropriate for characterizing such discursive behavior because it may refer to more or less conscious and deceptive violations. The elasticity of the word allows the critic to evaluate the fudging of speech acts by degrees in the specific situation on a scale from minor offenses, e.g., involuntary blunders and instances of less importance in the context (more in the nature of ‘fiddling’), to major ones, e.g., those that are consciously abusive and toxic to the notion of legitimate and fair deliberative rhetoric. The following case study illustrates the kind of analyses and discussions I suggest for further investigations into the fudging of speech acts.

The case at hand relates to the illocutionary speech act of promising, the standard example in speech act theory (Austin 1975, Searle 1969). As a result of the future oriented discourse characteristic of the deliberative genre, promises play an important role in political rhetoric addressed to the public. Especially during election campaigns, advocating main party issues for future politics easily turns into politicians actually performing the act of promising to implement a certain policy or to make sure that it shall not be carried out. In Denmark, this is a tendency that has increased along with the development of ‘contract politics’ launched in Denmark by the former Prime Minister Fogh Rasmussen. (The expression ‘contract politics’ refers to a set list of governmental issues that the politicians promise to enforce and uphold unconditionally until the next election.) When an election promise subsequently is broken, citizens usually feel deceived and, in retrospect, perceive the broken promise as a trick used to secure power by any means.

However, there are cases in which it is acceptable – even reasonable – not to keep a promise. This is the dual point of the topos introduced by Krag. On the one hand, his remark expresses the cynical pragmatism of political compromise, but on the other hand – or on second thoughts – it voices the absurdity of not allowing politicians the right to change their minds, either because of a change of circumstances or through the force of the better argument.

In my discussion of the case of the inexpensive flats, I contemplate the issue of public political promises from the rhetorical critic’s point of view. I focus on two texts and apply notions from speech act theory in order to specify how Ritt Bjerregaard fudged her speech acts.[iv] I first present some background information and next take a closer look at the two texts.

1. The communicative situations
Ritt Bjerregaard, born 1941, a teacher by profession, has been an influential Danish Social Democrat over the years. She was a member of the Danish Parliament for most of the period from 1971 till 2005. She has served several times as minister (for Education, Social Affairs, and Food, Agriculture and Fisheries). In between she was European Commissioner for the Environment, EU.

Throughout her political career, Ritt Bjerregaard has been involved in a number of controversies that have made spectacular top stories in the media.  However, she has shown a remarkable capability of political survival in spite of the setbacks within the party and in the eyes of the public. Her ability to set the agenda for the issues she raises is outstanding. She has a reputation of arrogance, extravagance, exclusive taste, and coldness. She is admired for her courage, and criticized as well for her frankness, sometimes speaking her mind and raising issues to the inconvenience of the top leaders in her own party. She does not take orders in a crisis from her superiors, but has been accused of a dictatorial attitude to staff and colleagues. She has an image of a dedicated feminist with guts. She is considered intelligent, competent and knowledgeable about her issues, but in certain respects lacking in judgment. When she retired as Lord Mayor, comments were that she had excelled in positioning herself at the center of Danish politics rather than achieving political results (Davidsen-Nielsen 2009b; Wikipedia, retrieved May 27, 2010).

In her election campaign in 2005 to become Lord Mayor of Copenhagen, Ritt Bjerregaard presented her plan to secure housing in the city at a rent that people with ordinary incomes, such as teachers, nurses, policemen and young families, could afford. She did it under the slogan: ‘Five thousand flats for five thousand DKR in five years’, i.e., a monthly rent of approximately 670 Euro or 800 USD (exchange rates June 2010). I use the translation ‘flats’ for the less specific Danish word (‘boliger’); alternatives would be ‘dwellings’, ‘homes’ or ‘tenements’. Prices on the housing market were going up and up at that time, before the later financial crisis set in.

The election to the City Council was a victory for the Social Democrats, and Ritt Bjerregaard took office January 2006 as Lord Mayor of the City of Copenhagen with as much as 60,000 personal votes. The general opinion was that her plan for the cheap flats was the main reason.

Everyone agreed that there was a housing problem. In Bitzer’s terms, it presented an obvious exigence of pressing urgency to most Copenhageners, including those who did not themselves face the problem directly, but worried about the consequences for the city. We may also maintain that the plan was considered fitting response by large parts of the audience acting as mediators of change, in particular those who allegedly voted for her because of the cheap flats. The crux of the rhetorical situation of course rests with the constraints (Bitzer 1968). Predictably, Ritt Bjerregaard’s opponents in the election campaign disputed the feasibility of the project.

After the election, the implementation of what everyone had taken to be an election pledge was followed closely in the media. It soon became apparent that the construction plan was dragging on. The debate surfaced intensively towards the summer 2007, after the project had met various hindrances, especially the refusal from the right wing Government to let the city sell municipal plots below market price for the purpose. At that time, 12 of the inexpensive homes had been built. Ritt Bjerregaard decided to explain her difficulties in a newspaper interview (Weiss 2007). She now claimed that she had never made the promise expressed in the slogan, and that she had only put forward what she would work towards if elected.

The denial instigated a stormy debate in the Danish media, conducted by citizens who felt deceived, gloating politicians of opposing parties, other social democrats and mayors who in interviews distanced themselves in diplomatic terms from the act of issuing hasty election promises and afterwards denying them, and a few supporters on the retreat.

After the summer 2007 it became more and more evident that the whole scheme would hardly ever be realized. In December 2008, still only 12 flats built, Ritt Bjerregard admitted that the price could not be kept at 5,000 DKR (Nielsen & Knudsen 2008). In 2009, before the next election campaign, she proclaimed her resignation at the end of her term. She gave the administrative structure of the City Council as her main reason for not seeking reelection. The case of the cheap flats had nothing to do with her decision, she said. According to an opinion poll in the election campaign, 38 per cent of Copenhageners found that she had done “well or very well” as Lord Mayor, whereas 39 per cent answered that she had managed the job “poorly or very poorly” (Davidsen-Nielsen 2009a).

2. The promise before the election
The question now is whether Ritt Bjerregaard made a promise in the first place? My answer is a definite Yes. To substantiate this, I refer to an election manifesto by Ritt Bjerregaard (2005) in a newspaper, see excerpts from text 1 in (1) below. Ritt Bjerregaard presented her housing plan in many other contexts, expressing herself in like ways. If Ritt Bjerregaard did issue a promise once during the election campaign, the other texts in which she said words to the same effect are in principle irrelevant.

(1) TEXT 1: Excerpts from election manifesto by Ritt Bjerregaard in the newspaper Information, October 27, 2005:

Copenhagen Must not Become a Ghetto for the Affluent
It is possible, as I have promised, to build 5,000 flats for 5,000 DKR a month within five years
[….]
Therefore I have committed myself to building 5,000 flats for 5,000 DKR a month within five years. But since I first proposed this, politicians representing the Liberals and SF (!) have raced to be the first to shoot down my proposal. […] I simply do not accept the claim that it is not possible to lower the construction costs in Copenhagen.
[…]
Because of the large-scale advantages […] I am dead certain that it is feasible.
[…]
The proposal for 5,000 flats for 5,000 DKR is of course a departure from received opinion in the construction industry and the housing policy apparatus in Copenhagen. And this is why the proposal meets opposition. But of course it is feasible, and of course the flats will be lovely. I would not be surprised if, once the election campaign is over, quite a lot of those politicians who now find fault with the idea, will take part in implementing it.

In my translation of the text I have emphasized the words in italics that most clearly are indicators of the speech acts she performs.[v] As it appears, Ritt Bjerregaard uses the word promise herself. As communicators rarely do, she does not use the performative formula “I hereby promise you …”, but the sentence as I have promised leaves no doubt that she is issuing a promise. She even uses the phrase that she has committed herself to the building of the flats etc. She next uses the weaker propose and proposal, but in the context it does not neutralize the promise: she first proposed the idea and then turned it into a promise. Her next words are equally insistent on the feasibility of the propositional content of her promise, note simply, dead certain, and of course.

3. The denial after the election
One year and a half after taking office, Ritt Bjerregaard decided to make her revision of the construction plan public, some said in order to have the foreseeable negative reactions over and done with in good time before the next election (Qvortrup 2007). She did it in an interview in July 2007 under the headline I Never Promised 5,000 Cheap Flats in Five Years, see text 2 in (2) below. Much of the interview deals with her explanations of legislative and political obstacles that have exceeded her expectations, including the strategy of shifting the blame to the government and other opponents.

(2) TEXT 2: Excerpts from interview with Ritt Bjerregaard in the newspaper Berlingske Tidende, July 10, 2007:
I Never Promised 5,000 Cheap Flats in Five Years
[…]
It is possible to build 5000 cheap flats – but not within five years.
[…]
That said, I never promised that the cheap flats would be completed in five years. It is one of my leading principles not to engage in contract politics, since I find it an unhealthy way of conducting politics in a democracy. In the election campaign I merely stated what I would work towards if I were to become Lord Mayor or my party were to gain sufficient influence.

Interviewer: […] Did you not make sure that the project was feasible before presenting it to the electors­?

Yes, I did – and I maintain that it is still possible – although not in five years. I can only say that every single time we meet with obstacles and need help, no help is available. […] I am fully aware that, to some degree, the next election campaign will involve personal attacks against me on account of the cheap flats, but I can only say that we are in the middle of a long and tough pull, and surely the flats will materialize – I promise.
[…]

Ritt Bjerregaard attempts to make her denial appear as a modification of the election pledge, relating only to the time span. She maintains that building the flats is possible, but admits that it cannot be accomplished in five years; it may take up to ten years. The effort to restrict the promise is pronounced in the utterance I never promised that the cheap flats would be completed in five years. Out of context this might indicate that it would be taking the promise too literally to expect all flats to be ready after five years. But when she continues to say that she does not engage in “contract politics” and that she merely stated what she would work towards, she rules out this interpretation. The implication is that she denies the entire promise, not just one part of it, namely the five years. All the same, and quite absurdly, she repeats her promise below: the cheap flats shall be built – I promise! Note that on this occasion the price is not mentioned.

The argumentation presents a curious example of fudging speech acts. She seems to suggest that the locution of an utterance articulated as a promise in the context of elections campaigns does not count as a true promise! Such a distinction, however, is indeed odd; every normal communicator would respond that a promise is a promise. As demonstrated, she did make a promise in text 1, and her denying it now is a downright lie.

4. Evaluation
To further explore the fairness problem, I now turn to the felicity conditions. Cases of broken election pledges are typically related to the sincerity condition on the allegation that the politician made the promise deceptively in order to secure votes. In my reading, Ritt Bjerregaard cannot be accused of initially making a promise that she did not honestly wish to keep. A more likely interpretation is that she made a hasty promise, i.e., a promise she had not made sure she could fulfill. As the later events demonstrated, she had not done her homework properly and therefore could not keep the promise afterwards. This way of fudging the speech act relates to the preparatory conditions, as the question is whether Ritt Bjerregaard was in a position to authorize the promise. What makes the promise ‘unhappy’ in this respect, however, is not whether she is the right person or the circumstances are appropriate (Austin’s rule A.2, 1975, p. 15). According to Austin, breaches of this kind make the speech act ‘void’, i.e., the promise would be a ‘misfire’, not executed correctly to take effect (Austin 1975, pp. 16-17, 25ff). This does not apply here. As candidate in the election campaign, Ritt Bjerregaard was entitled to make election pledges. Thus, the main problem in her argumentation in text 1 is the certainty with which she asserts that the propositional content of her promise is feasible. The illegitimacy thus does not concern the sincerity of her intentions, but the expertise that she is feigning. This is unfair argumentation because the arguer exploits the asymmetric relation between herself and the audience. In the situation, people would naturally expect her to have considered the legislative, technical, and political difficulties thoroughly before totally dismissing them. Applying the fairness standard as an evaluation by degrees, one may perhaps argue that Ritt Bjerregaard’s insisting on the feasibility of the project on lose grounds does not constitute a grave violation, as she probably thought that the difficulties could be overcome. Even so, I find that the critic must maintain that in the situation she ought at least to have acknowledged their existence. And had she done this, she would have argued more fairly.

The denial of the promise in text 2 poses the real major fairness problem. Denying the fact that during the election campaign she made the promise to build the 5,000 flats for 5,000 DKR within five years is a lie and thus an ‘abusive’ speech act – a direct contradiction to the promise that she in her own word had committed herself to fulfill, not just work for.

The whole case may be seen as an illustration of a politician caught in the trap of her own catchy slogan, the numbers of 5,000 flats for 5,000 kr. in five years forming such a fine figure of speech! This suggestion underscores the danger of seeking persuasive victory in the short run by means that undermine ethos in the long run.

We may recapitulate that the promise was unwise, and that Ritt Bjerregaard should not have made it the way she did. But to deny the promise seems such a tremendous rhetorical blunder, that it is hard to understand why she did it? The answer could be that the alternative was to admit incompetence to some degree. She might have done this, saying something like: I regret that it is not possible for me to keep my promise. In hindsight, I should not have made the promise. I honestly thought the plan was feasible, but the fact that it is not is due to all the difficulties I could not predict and the many obstructions others have made.

Regardless, Ritt Bjerregaard’s ethos was bound to suffer harm, and had she followed this line of defense, her ethos would have been lowered in the competence dimension (McCroskey 1997). But the damage to her trustworthiness and honesty in the character dimension must be considered much worse because of her glaringly false denial of the promise. In view of her general ethos, to admit that she had been wrong might even have made her appear more human than the public tends to regard her.

In conclusion, let me add that communicators have always committed violations of the kind exemplified in the case. I do, however, suspect that the tendency to fudge speech acts is increasing in contemporary political discourse. Whether or not this is the case, I suggest rhetoricians and argumentation theorists pay special attention to the problem. The argumentative conduct of fudging speech acts flouts the norms of legitimate deliberative rhetoric in ways that are highly counterproductive to the formation of informed public debate. It adds fuel to the general distrust of politicians, confirming citizens of the futility of engaging in public deliberation.

NOTES
[i] In Danish: ’Man har et standpunkt til man tager et nyt’.
[ii] For a presentation in English of the standard of fairness, see Jørgensen 2007, p. 170ff.
[iii] For a Danish example in which the former Prime Minister Anders Fogh Rasmussen was accused of issuing an official apology for his own political purposes, see Villadsen 2008.
[iv] Both texts are used as exercises in our Danish textbook on argumentation (Jørgensen & Onsberg 2008).
[v] I have tried to keep my translations of text 1 and 2 by Ritt Bjerregaard as close as possible – verbum verbo – to the Danish expressions, especially in those passages that are in italics.

REFERENCES
Austin, J. L. (1975) [1962]. How to Do Things with Words. Second Edition. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Bitzer, L. F. (1968). The rhetorical situation. Philosophy and Rhetoric, 1, 1-14. Reprint Philosophy and Rhetoric, Supplementary Issue 1992, 1-14.
Bjerregaard, R. (2005, October 27). Kampen om København: København må ikke blive en velhaverghetto. Information, p. 22.
Davidsen-Nielsen, H. (2009a, October 26). Vælgerne spår Frank J. større succes end Ritt B. Politiken, p. 3.
Davidsen-Nielsen, H. (2009b, December 20). Thi kendes for Ritt. Politiken, PS p. 3.
Jens Otto Krag. (n.d.) In Wikipedia. Retrieved June 22, 2010, from http://da.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jens_Otto_Krag
Jørgensen, C. (2007). The relevance of intention in argument evaluation. Argumentation, 21, 165-174.
Jørgensen, C., & Onsberg, M. (2008). Praktisk argumentation (3rd ed.). Copenhagen: Nyt Teknisk Forlag.
McCroskey, J. C. (1997). Ethos: A dominant factor in rhetorical communication. An Introduction to Rhetorical Communication (7th ed., pp. 87-107). Boston: Allyn and Bacon.
Nielsen, J. & Knudsen, J. (2008, December 9). Ritt B. opgiver husleje på 5.000 kr. Politiken, p. 5.
Qvortrup, H. (2007, July 16). Ritts smarte træk. Berlingske Tidende, p. 11.
Ritt Bjerregaard. (n.d.) In Wikipedia. Retrieved May 27, 2010 from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ritt_Bjerregaard
Searle, J. R. (1969). Speech Acts: An Essay in the Philosophy of Language. London: Cambridge University Press.
Villadsen, L. S. (2008). Speaking on behalf of others: Rhetorical agency and epideictic functions of official apologies. Rhetoric Society Quarterly, 38, 25-45.
Weiss, J. (2007, July 10). Interview: Jeg har aldrig lovet 5.000 billige boliger på fem år. Berlingske Tidende, pp. 8-9.

1. Introduction
This paper offers an alternative historical account of debate practices in Japan during the Meiji and Taisho eras (1868-1926). Most previous studies on the modern history of debate in Japan have focused on Yukichi Fukuzawa (1835-1901) or political advocacy by voluntary associations (minken kessha) in the Freedom and People’s Rights Movement (1871-1890). Contrary to the prevailing view that debate had largely dissipated by 1890 due to the Meiji government’s strict regulations and crackdowns, we demonstrate that debate continued to be an important activity of youth clubs across the nation. Emerging around the late 1880s, youth clubs regularly held intra-group debates on various topics in order to advance knowledge in academic and practical matters.

This paper also questions the popular belief that debate was primarily a means of fighting for democracy and people’s rights in early modern Japan. On the contrary, debate in youth clubs was instrumental in preparing the members to be respectable citizens who would contribute to their communities and country. Not surprisingly, the central government and local authorities encouraged debating in youth clubs, along with participating in athletic meets, playing football and music, and practicing karate and judo. At the same time, youths were strongly discouraged from becoming “too ambitious orators” who would dare to meddle in political affairs. The youth in farming villages, for instance, were dissuaded from debating political topics on the grounds that they were neither fitting nor well suited to their social status. We conclude by suggesting that far from suppressing debates altogether, political authorities tolerated, and even promoted, certain forms of debate they deemed fit for producing active yet subservient citizens.

2. Literature Review
Historical studies on debate theory and practice in early modern Japan are few and far between and have mostly focused on two themes. First, many of the previous studies are concerned with Yukichi Fukuzawa and his associates at the Keio Gijuku (now Keio University) (e.g. Matsuzawa, 1991; Murakami, 1993; Hirai, 1996; Matsuzaki, 2005). Fukuzawa was one of the most influential intellectuals and eminent educators of his time and played an important role in the modernization of Japan in the late 19th century.

Recognizing, above all, the value of public discourse and deliberation in modern society, he “undoubtedly was a pioneer in systematically introducing and popularizing the persuasive and argumentative art of public speechmaking to Meiji Japan” (Kim, 2008, p. 229). Fukazawa authored several treatises on Western-style rhetoric and took the initiative to found the Mita Oratorical Society (Mita Enzetsu Kai) and the Kojunsha Club in which the members learned and practiced speech making, debating, and holding conferences. He went so far as to invest a large portion of his personal fortune in building the Mita Speech Hall (Mita Enzetsukan) in 1875. For this reason, Fukuzawa has drawn so much scholarly attention that he is often credited as “a promulgator of Western rhetoric” (Okabe, 1973, p. 186), “the ancestor of public speaking” (enzetsu no soshisha), and “the father of Western speech and debate in Japan” (Okabe, 2002, p. 281).

Most other studies in this area explore the roles speech and debate played in the Freedom and People’s Rights Movement (Ohata, 2002; Arai, 2004; Inada, 2009). The Freedom and People’s Rights Movement refers to a wide range of activities that lasted roughly between 1871 and 1890 (Kim, 2008, p. 3). Among others, People’s Rights activists advocated such political changes as the establishment of a national assembly, the installation of a more representative system of government, and the reduction of the land tax (chiso keigen). To achieve these goals, people from different strata of society, including ex-samurai (shizoku), urban intellectuals, local notables, and wealthy farmers (gono), formed voluntary associations called kessha and conducted speeches and debates as a regular part of their activities.

It is clear that the existing research on debate in modern Japan has been heavily concentrated on the mid-1870s and late 1880s, the period Tomasi (2004) calls “the golden age of oratory” (pp. 45-64). Consequently, it is commonly believed that debate and speech were introduced to Japan by Fukuzawa and his colleagues at the beginning of the Meiji era, reached their heyday in the rise of the Freedom and People’s Rights Movement, and began to lose their popularity around 1890. Underlying this account is the view that despite relentless efforts made by Fukuzawa’s group, as well as fierce political struggles for freedom of speech by People’s Rights activists, debate failed to take root in modern Japan.

However, this historical narrative is problematic on three counts. First, it has reinforced the assumption that the tradition of debate did not exist in Japan prior to the Meiji period (Tomasi, 2004). As several studies have already been conducted to dispel this myth (Branham, 1994; Okabe, 2002; Tomasi, 2004), this paper does not delve into this point. Second, it has been taken for granted that the practice of debate had largely dissipated by 1890 due to strengthened government regulations, the promulgation of the Imperial Constitution (1889), and the opening of the national Diet (1890). For instance, Okabe (2002) contends that “the popularity of Western speech and debate declined all of a sudden at the turn of the century” (p. 288). In his view (which is widely held among historians and communication scholars alike), the decline in the Freedom and People’s Rights Movement coincided with, if not caused, the decline in speech and debate. Last but not least, the rise and fall of debate have been attributed to Fukuzawa and a handful of other intellectuals in the dominant historical account.

Let us address this last point first. There is no doubt that Fukuzawa was among the most important figures in the history of debate in Japan. At the same time, we should resist the tendency to elevate him to “founding father” status in the absence of historical evidence. For instance, contrary to popular belief, no documents show that Fukuzawa translated the English word “debate” as toron. Although Fukuzawa himself reminisced about having translated debate as toron in Kaigiben (How to Hold a Meeting, circa 1884), the term is nowhere used in the book (Matsuzawa, 1991, p. 479). We surmise that the term might have been used earlier by Sadamasu Oshima in Kaigi Bempo (1884), supposedly a Japanese rendering of Luther Cushing’s Rules of Proceeding and Debate in Legislative Assemblies (also known as Cushing’s Manual).

Moreover, Fukuzawa held a rather restrictive, even reductive view of debate. That is, unlike People’s Rights activists who conceived debate as a tool for spreading their political views to the masses, he regarded it as a means of exchanging ideas and cultivating knowledge among educated citizens. After all, the Mita Oratorical Society and the Kojunsha club were both academic associations cum social clubs rather than political organizations. Indeed, Fukuzawa maintained a critical distance from the Freedom and People’s Rights Movement and even denigrated many leaders of the Movement as irresponsible radicals. This indicates that by the late 1870s speech and debate became more ubiquitous and was attended by more “ordinary” people than he had expected (Kim, 2008, p. 235). It also means that by restricting the role of debate and speech to a method of learning among “men of substance,” Fukuzawa failed to appreciate their potential as “the catalysts for the people to assemble, organize, and transform themselves into the politically conscious ‘public’” (Kim, 2008, p. 253). His contribution to popularizing debate in Japan must be re-assessed in this larger historical context.

Second, mainstream scholarship on the Liberation and People’s Rights Movements focuses its analysis on speech meetings (enzetsukai) or speech and debate meetings (enzetsu toron kai) and assigns only a secondary role to debate. For instance, Kinichi Matsuzaki (2005), former deputy director of the Fukuzawa Memorial Center for Modern Japanese Studies, views debate as nothing more than another form of speech (p. 58). Likewise, communication scholar Mitsuhiro Hashimoto makes little to no mention of debate in his study of public communication during the Freedom and People’s Rights Movement (Hashimoto, 2000; Hashimoto, 2008). Yet it should be noted that debate and speech performed different functions in the nascent stage of many kessha groups. As Tokujiro Obata, one of Fukuzawa’s longtime associates, recalled, the Mita Oratorical Society originally started as an informal gathering modeled after a European debating society (Matsuzaki, 1991, p. 78). Accordingly, the members initially spent the most time on debate activities. As the Society began to expand its membership and make its activities open to the public, it gradually shifted its focus from debate to speech. It stopped holding a debate session altogether shortly after the opening of the Mita Speech Hall and literally became an oratorical society. As with the Mita Oratorical Society, many kessha associations were originally founded as study and debate groups. As Murakami (1993) observes, the rise of the Freedom and People’s Rights Movements spurred Fukuzawa and many People’s Rights activists to take speech more seriously than debate (p. 158). Although intra-group academic debates played an important role in cultivating knowledge and forging group solidarity among the kessha members, they have been neglected in the existing literature on the Movement.

In addition, Kim points out the class-bound, elitist nature of mainstream scholarship on the Freedom and People’s Rights Movement. That is, the vast majority of the present studies have been concerned with prominent figures – such as Emori Ueki and Chomin Nakae – and metropolitan intellectual associations. Accordingly, speech and debate meetings organized by local notables in the countryside have received little attention with the exception of a few minshushi (the People’s History) historians, notably Daikichi Irokawa’s group (see, for example, Irokawa, Ei, and Arai, 1970). This is regrettable because “local lecture meetings [enztezukai] turned more and more fiercely anti-government in rhetoric, surpassing those of the metropolitan intellectuals” (Kim, 2008, p. 241).

The existing research on the Freedom and People’s Rights Movement also largely ignores female orators and women’s public speaking societies despite the fact that the Movement led to a rapid increase in speech, if not debate, meetings by women (Tomasi, 2004, p. 55). Several speech textbooks for women such as Speech Instructions for Women (Fujin Enzetsu Shinan) (1888) were published around this time. More importantly, such renowned female orators as Toshiko Kishida embarked on a national speech tour, delivering political speeches at local meetings throughout the country, which in turn inspired many women to organize public speaking societies (Tomasi, 2004, p. 55). Many of them held speech and debate meetings; at least one of them, the Okayama-based Joko gakusha, incorporated debate into its curriculum (Tomasi, 2004, p. 56). Yet few, if any, studies have examined speech and debate activities by women and their significance and implications for the Liberation and People’s Rights movement.

Largely owing to the aforementioned reasons, it is now taken for granted that debate had virtually died away by 1890. However, while it is true that the number of political speech and debate meetings (seidan enzetsu toron kai) had sharply dropped after the Public Assembly Ordinance (Shukai Jorei) was strengthened by an amendment in 1882, it does not follow that all forms of debate and speech had ceased to be practiced. Lack of research into debate occurring between the mid-Meiji and Taisho eras should not lead to the conclusion that there was a decline in the debate tradition during this period. The next section will demonstrate that debate continued to be practiced across the nation after the opening of the national Diet.

3. Analysis
3.1 Drastic Increase of Youth Clubs in Early Modern Japan
Partly as a replacement/reorganization of the older youth associations such as wakarenchu and wakamonogumi, youth clubs started to emerge in the Meiji 10s (1877-1886) in farming villages across the nation (Monbusho, 1972, p. 417). With their goals to “acquire knowledge, improve moral order and reform agricultural affairs,” the clubs evolved to be active enough to draw the attention of the government (Monbusho, 1972, p. 417). The Russo-Japanese War (1904-1905) provided the momentum for the government to officially start to encourage the clubs and their activities, because the government saw that the clubs were useful to increase home front support for the war (Monbusho, 1972, p. 417; Kumagaya, 1942/1989, p. 90).

The governmental support resulted in a drastic increase in the number of youth clubs nationwide. In Meiji 29 (1896), Yamamoto conducted what is presumably the first national survey of youth clubs and recorded that 699 clubs had become active by the same year (Kumagaya, 1942/1989, pp. 83-84). After the Russo-Japanese War, the number of youth clubs drastically increased; there were 5,920 in Taisho 4 (1915) (Murakami & Sakata, 1981, p. 327), 9,965 in Taisho 9 (1920), 11,476 in Taisho 14 (1925) and 13,688 in Showa 5 (1930) (Murakami & Sakata, 1981, p. 329). About ten thousand new youth clubs were established in the fourteen years from Meiji 40 (1907) to Taisho 10 (1921), constituting 75 percent of the entire number of youth clubs recorded until Showa 5 (1930) (Murakami & Sakata, 1981, p. 329).

3.2 Governmental Support for Youth Clubs
The drastic increase in the number of youth clubs during this time was triggered by the increased governmental support after the Russo-Japanese War. The government’s first official recognition of the youth clubs was seen in a note issued by the Ministry of Home Affairs in Meiji 38 (1905) (cited in Kumagaya, 1942/1989, p. 197) followed by another note from the Ministry of Education three months later (cited in Kumagaya, 1942/1989, pp. 197-198). Oikawa (2001) argues that due to these notes youth clubs that were forming as voluntary activities in local regions were integrated into national politics (p. 25).

The government expected the youth clubs to be instrumental in preparing their members to be respectable citizens who would contribute to their communities and country. Some salient motives of the government are clearly revealed in the governmental order regarding youth clubs co-issued by the Ministry of Home Affairs and the Ministry of Education in Taisho 4 (1915). The order starts with a claim that “one of the most exigent tasks under the current domestic and international situation” is “to direct the youth clubs to develop themselves completely.” In response to this exigency, the order demands that the youths “improve themselves” to be “healthy and good citizens” by upholding “loyalty and moral character,” “developing physical strength,” and “growing intelligence suitable for pragmatic need,” so that they can “help the nation to advance” (cited in Kumagaya, 1942/1989, p. 199).

The government believed that youth clubs would offer some distinctive education that the regular schooling system could not match. The term shuyo or “improve oneself” used in the order is an important concept in characterizing the youth clubs. Practicing shuyo made youth clubs places to improve oneself by learning from others. Makiyama (1918), a high official in the Ministry of Education, clarifies in his publication that shuyo is “self-disciplinary” (p. 80). Also, Yamamoto (1918) notes that unlike school, youth clubs have no teacher, which is why group unity and autonomous control are important issues (pp. 111-112). A Ministry of Home Affair official, Itsuki (1916) also emphasizes autonomous self-development within youth clubs when he states that “for the youth club to grow, self improvement within the group is desired, as well as external stimulus” (qtd. in Inenaga, 2005, p. 164). This kind of autonomous learning was highly valued as Tago (1918), an official from the Ministry of Home Affairs, states that the education “developed through friendly competition” is “civil training” and “can not be achieved in school” (p. 49).

Another important term worth scrutinizing in this governmental order is “intelligence.” The order supports the growth of intelligence of young people. However, the intelligence the order upholds is only for the purpose of “pragmatic need.” Endorsement of such intelligence needed in agriculture, or in other occupations, is consistently found in other documents.

3.3 Debate Practiced in Youth Clubs
Under governmental guidance, many youth clubs adopted debate as one of their regular activities along with other popular activities such as participating in athletic meets, playing football and music, and practicing karate and judo (Maeshiro, 1993; Iwata, 1996; Ishise, 2008). These activities were often stipulated in the bylaws of youth clubs as something the clubs should regularly do. For example, in 1907 a youth club in Nagano Prefecture put speech, conversation, debate and cross-examination regarding education, knowledge and health on top of its list of activities, which included athletic meets, travel, excursions and climbing (Hirayama, 1988, p. 137). Similarly, a governmental report in 1912 shows that a youth club in Gifu Prefecture had a bylaw stipulating that “…[we] hold monthly regular meetings to pursue knowledge and martial arts, to do physical exercise and games, to invite some distinguished people to give speeches or to debate among the members” (cited in Kamiya, 1986, p. 519).

As the government encouraged the youth clubs, several books on how to run the clubs were published at the end of the Meiji era (e.g. Yamamoto, 1909; Okazaki, 1910; Kawasaki, 1910). One of them written by Okazaki (1910) has a list of some 50 recommended activities for youth clubs. Okazaki (1910) notes that the most suitable activities may be different for each youth club, hence each club should carefully choose ones from the list of all activities (p. 200). Okazaki claims that he listed “all activities,” so we could probably presume that those activities were generally accepted or at least considered to be typical in those days. Debate is listed under the category of “compensatory education” “independent from the schooling system” (Okazaki, 1910, p. 200).

Another book published by a government-affiliated publisher in 1918 included a collection of reports from selected youth clubs from all over Japan. These reports describe how each youth club selects and practices its activities based on its socio-cultural background. One report from a youth club in Ishikawa Prefecture demonstrates why debate is adopted and practiced in this fishery village. Jinbo, the head of the youth club, describes this in the report:
…the main industry of our village is fishing. However we frequently experience rather prolonged periods of poor catch, so the village head and others have encouraged us to have a side job. Now 30-40 percent of the people are engaging in sericulture and increasing their income. That is why, even though it is a small village…with a population of 1,600… our village governance was credited as exemplary by the Minister of Home Affairs in Meiji 42. Therefore, in our youth club we do not bother to encourage early rising or helping with housework at all. We only encourage cultivating the sense of unity, the custom of reading, the service for society and the interest in hobbies such as the pursuit of knowledge…. The activities in our youth club are evening-study, lecture and debate for the purpose of enhancing public awareness, and reading in our youth club library which now stores 450 books and attracts 40 to 50 members a day during the periods of poor catch. (cited in Seinendan Chuobu, 1918, p. 362)

According to Jinbo’s description of the club, the young people in this village were already diligent and hardworking enough, so they did not need to be told to get up early or to help their family. Therefore in this village the youth club put a higher emphasis on pursuing knowledge. One of the ways to achieve knowledge is through debate. However this pursuit of knowledge is not considered to be a scholarly or intellectual pursuit, rather it is a pursuit of knowledge as hobby or enjoyment.

3.4 Propositions Debated in Youth Clubs
Here we would like to examine debate propositions that were actually used in youth clubs and attempt to see what kind of arguments were exchanged and also how those arguments helped educate the club members to be respectable citizens who could contribute to their communities and country. The topics we have discovered are wide-ranging. Some of the topics are closely related to daily life and some of them concern national policy. First, in Fukushima Prefecture, the following topic was debated in Meiji 35 (1902): “Which are more beneficial, cattle or horses?” (Kumagaya, 1942/1989, p. 67). This topic should have been best suited to the beginner of debate in a farming village, for it bears upon their economic life. In the same youth club in Fukushima, a proposition on a national policy was debated in Meiji 34 (1901): “Which of the following should Japan promote, industry or commerce?” (Kumagaya, 1942/1989, p. 67). As it is stated, the topic concerns national policy. However, it should not have been considered too political, because debating for either side on this topic means to seek the best path to strengthen the nation. That was exactly what the government wanted youth club members to ponder so that they would be active in helping the nation to advance.

Another youth club in Kyoto Prefecture also left their debate propositions on record. One of the topics debated in Taisho 1 (1912) is very specific to agriculture: “What would be the benefit of an inflated price of rice?” (Kumagaya, 1942/1989, p. 67). This topic again is undoubtedly relevant to the lives of the youth club members in the village. Also, in the same youth club, topics regarding “the youth” were debated. That is, these topics asked debaters to find “ideal youths.” For example, they debated the following proposition: “Which is more appropriate for physical education for the youth, swordsmanship or sumo-wrestling?” (Kumagaya, 1942/1989, p. 67). A topic like this would have reinforced the idea of “self-discipline” among the members because the topic forced the debaters to seek a better way to run their youth club. Also, at the same time, it made them visualize the ideal youth that they should become. Another proposition debated in the same year states: “The youth should practice riding a bicycle” (Kumagaya, 1942/1989, p. 67). On first glance, riding a bicycle seems harmless, however, to the youth in those days the topic was controversial because bicycle riding was considered to have a significant negative effect on the youth. According to Iwata (1996), some of the young men in those days had a very active nightlife, visiting girls in neighboring villages (p. 131). Some of them, Iwata (1996) describes, “expanded their field of activities by riding bicycles, but their tires were occasionally deflated by somebody who envied them” (p. 132). Since there were concerns about affronts to sexual morality, and ways to reduce the problem were called for in those days (Nakajima, 1918, p. 223; Iwata, 1996, p. 87), debating the problems associated with riding bicycles was probably intended to help form such morality among the participants.

3.5 Form and Procedure of Debate in Youth Clubs
In his first book, Takinosuke Yamamoto, who has been considered to be the founder of youth clubs in Japan (Kimura, 1998, p. 146), proposes a procedure for making debate fit into the series of activities in a youth club. Yamamoto (1896) notes:
…[We should] review current affairs based on newspapers and magazines…. [Next, we should] put together a miscellany of members’ writing and circularize it in the club so that we can compete with each other in writing. [Next, we should] elaborate on thoughts and bring in two or three issues to every meeting and debate on them. [Next, we should] divide the members into two and sumo-wrestle [or compete] our encyclopedic knowledge by way of questioning…. (pp. 53-54)

Yamamoto’s proposal is somewhat similar to our current procedure of debate; starting with research and strategy followed by debate and cross-examination. His proposal may not be the best evidence to demonstrate how debate was actually conducted in youth clubs, however, given his leadership and attempts to vitalize youth clubs in Japan, we argue that his idea was probably reflected in the actual practice of debate in the youth clubs.

Another book gives us a clue to understanding how young people argued in the early 20th century. In his “speech training” book, Yokoyama (1901) listed things to keep in mind in making arguments. In debate, Yokoyama points out, you should “listen to opponent’s arguments with special attention” so that you can “prepare your refutations” and “argue fully” to the end (p. 84). Ad hominem is forbidden as Yokoyama (1901) clearly expresses his view by suggesting that debaters must not retaliate, even against “insulting remarks” from the opponents, by giving back similar or even worse remarks. He also points out that debaters must not see their opponents as “pathologic” (p. 85). Arguments should be “based upon their reasons” not upon “arguer’s social standing” (Yokoyama, 1901, p. 85). Yokoyama supports arguments based on reason and discourages any attacks on opponents’ character, which is more or less in accordance with today’s debate pedagogy. However, the last part of Yokoyama’s list does an about-face from his endorsement for active engagement in argumentation. He states that “you must always remember that compliance with public opinion is the obligation of the Japanese people” (Yokoyama, 1901, pp. 85-86). Here Yokoyama argues that people should argue fully to the end, however they should stop arguing once public opinion is set.

3.6 More Written Accounts of the Youth Clubs Debates
We have found two more written accounts of debate in youth clubs in early modern Japan. Kumagaya (1929/1984), who was another important contributor to the development of youth clubs, wrote an anecdote of his workshop camp with leaders from youth clubs in Tokyo, in which one of the leaders proposed to debate about “defending one’s chastity” (p. 17). A youth named “T” started the debate with the following argument:
I argue that women must defend their chastity, but men do not have to. The fact that the nation is allowing state-regulated prostitution is the basis for my claim. A friend of mine who is a sailor on a vessel on a foreign route told me that since there are so many private brothels in foreign countries, men’s chastity is not well defended. Moreover, let me ask you this. How many of us are still defending chastity? Isn’t it easy for us to figure out the answer to this question, given the current situation in our society? Gentlemen, I believe that women must defend their chastity but men don’t have to. What do you say?” (Kumagaya, 1929/1984, p. 18)

Since this argument was advanced with “full confidence,” Kumagaya (1929/1984) explains, it overwhelmed the opponent’s arguments (p.18). Even though the opponents responded with arguments such as “equality between the sexes,” “morality” and “monogamy,” it turned out in the end that the participants were closer to unanimous agreement with the denial of the necessity of men’s chastity (p.18). Kumagaya (1929/1984) laments that this passionate “argument based only on fervor” prevailed in the debate and explains that the youth who are not familiar with logic are easily bewildered and unable to find a fallacy in rather weak arguments (p.18).

Kumagaya (1929/1984) was then asked by the youth club members to give some comments on the debate. In his comments, he admonishes the youths for presenting extremely “unfair” views on the topic and calls their argument an “egotistical tyranny by males” (p. 18). Kumagaya (1929/1984) moves on to argue that “the fact that only women are compelled to chastity under the status quo” does not mean that it is “the norm of our life” (p. 18). In this new era, Kumayaga (1929/1984) continues, “our ideal will never endorse unfair attitudes” (p. 18). Kumagaya (1929/1984) then closes his comment with the following call:
Gentlemen, we, who are the creators of an upcoming new era, must never corrupt ourselves under the status quo. Let us be ashamed of being conservatives devoid of soul-searching. With our fresh eyes, let us seek for the truth and work on to complete our duty as the creators of a new era. (p. 19)

After listening to Kumagaya’s comments, the youth members fully understood what he meant so “their faces looked so bright” (Kumagaya, 1929/1984, p. 19). In the end, Kumagaya (1929/1984) praises their debate because they debated very seriously on the topic, which could be considered to be obscene or could easily allow the members to make obscene remarks if it were debated fifteen years ago (p. 19).

We have shown that Kumagaya endorsed active argumentation in youth club debate. However there were also attempts to set some limitations on how argumentative the youths could be. For example, Amano (1913) recognizes the value of debating in youth clubs as “it raises their spirits,” however he discouraged the youth from becoming “ambitious orators” who would dare to meddle in political affairs (p. 163). As he notes, there are some people who are debating on national policies these days, however they should know that it is better to “choose familiar topics that are more suitable for people in farming villages” (p. 163). Amano (1913) also advises not to debate too frequently, because “arguing like fire on grease paper is not something youths in farming village should be proud of,” or because people would criticize the youths for becoming a “real stickler for logic” (p. 163).

From the reading of records and written accounts on debate in the youth clubs, we can discern certain forms of debate that the government deemed fit for producing active yet subservient citizens. Active debating was generally encouraged in youth clubs, however, there certainly were voices against the youth becoming too political, too argumentative, or too logical.

3.7 Dissent from the Depoliticization of Debates
Even so, not all youth clubs practiced their debate as the government wished. In his paper, Matsuzaki (2002) introduces an episode from a youth club in the Meiji 20s (1887-1896), which describes that the club hanged out their paper lanterns from windows when they had speech or debate, so that they could, even provocatively, draw the attention of outsiders including the police. Matsuzaki (2002) argues that this rather inflammatory act that “creates a tense atmosphere” was the representation of the youths’ consciousness that “practicing speech and/or debate” were the moments to “face the government” (pp. 39-40). Also, in the late Meiji, newspapers started to run articles that gave a spur and encouragement to the youths. For example, in Meiji 44 (1911), Toyokichi Hasegawa editorialized that unlike in the Freedom and People’s Rights Movement when “the pursuit of sound argument was encouraged,” these days “the government intervenes in the youth clubs everywhere and encourages their blind deference to the government” (Suehiro, 1994, np). As such, we would argue that some youth clubs must have debated more politically than others. At the very least, the arguments to oppose the government’s depoliticization of debate were allowed to appear in the public discourse in those days.

3.8 Other Forms of Debate outside the Youth Clubs
In the days when debate was promoted as an activity for youth clubs across the country, there were still other debates conducted in different forms with different purposes. Debaters in youth clubs were advised not to become too political, however some other groups seemed to debate enthusiastically with clear political agendas. One particular example we should discuss here is the debate by a labor union that took place on July 8, 1919. The debates here were undoubtedly more politically oriented, as we can see by looking at some of the topics debated on that day:
(1) Should labor movements be limited within the field of economy or extended to the field of politics? (2) Should labor insurance be issued by the labor union or by the government? (3) Should the labor hours be eight? (4) Should Japan make Labor Union Laws?…. (Kono, 1919, np)

Over these propositions, as newspaper articles report, active debates were conducted (Sau, 1919; Teikoku, 1919). The excitement and enthusiasm of the participants were represented in the chair’s opening address: “The convention we have today is by no means a moot diet [or mock parliament]. The debate we have today is not an imitation of the Imperial Diet. On the contrary, our national diet could imitate this debate we will have today” (Teikoku, 1919, np).

Another example we would like to discuss is the debate at a convention of youth clubs in Kanagawa Prefecture. The convention took place in 1922 and 200 representatives from local youth clubs in Kanagawa Prefecture were assembled (Takemoto, 1926, p. 21). Ishikawa youth club from Yokohama proposed a topic that stated, “the house tax should be imposed on public buildings” (Takemoto, 1926, p. 21). The debate was “heated with arguments and questions” and finally it reached a decision that “public buildings should be exempted from the house tax” (Takemoto, 1926, p. 21). After the debate, the chair declared that the decision would be forwarded for “negotiations with the revenue department” (Takemoto, 1926, p. 21). With the limited evidence we have at this moment, we cannot conclude this debate was a kind of moot diet or a substantial part of political decision-making. However, in either case, active arguments were exchanged on a policy-making topic that could be considered too political for typical youth clubs.

4. Conclusions
This paper has demonstrated that debate was actively practiced in Japan even after 1890 – the year that debate had largely dissipated according to the prevailing historical accounts that we have examined. The political motive to strengthen the country after the Russo-Japanese War gave a good reason to the government to support youth clubs in order to produce “healthy and good citizens” who would contribute to the community and the country. Our analysis of historical documents demonstrated that at least some of the youth clubs actively and regularly practiced debate and, generally, political topics were avoided in order to conform to governmental guidance. Policy topics, if they were used in a youth club, were written in such a way that arguing for either side in the debate would still allow the debaters to support the prevailing government policy. The topic analyzed earlier regarding the choice between either “industry” or “commerce” for national policy is a good example of this.

Also, our analysis revealed that a monolithic view of debate in the era should be abandoned as we have laid out some evidence to show that different organizations practiced different forms of debate and utilized different kinds of topics. In addition, two prominent leaders of youth clubs in the era, Kumagaya and Amano, had clearly different positions regarding how an ideal debate should be done. Kumagaya advocated that debaters should take nothing for granted and seek for the truth, whereas Amano discouraged the youths from becoming real sticklers for logic. As more historical documents become available in digital archives, such as the Japanese National Diet Library Digital Archive, we should make steady efforts to conduct more specific research on each form of debate practice in different socio-political situations, rather than having a univocal and overly linear view of debate in our historical context.

REFERENCES
Amano, F. (1913). Noson to goraku. Tokyo: Rakuyodo.
Arai, K. (2004). Jiyu minken to kindai shakai. In K. Arai (Ed.), Nihon no. 22 – Jiyu minken to kindai shakai (pp. 7-107). Tokyo: Yosikawa Kobunkan.
Branham, R. (1994). Debate and dissent in late Tokugawa and Meiji Japan. Argumentation and Advocacy, 30 (3), 131-149.
Hashimoto, M. (2000). Nihon no enzetsu to retorikku. In M. Hashimoto, et al. (Eds.), Nihon no retorikku to komyunikeshon (pp. 106-124). Tokyo: Sanseido.
Hashimoto, M. (2008). Meiji no genron to media – Enzetsu no ryuko –. In M. Hashimoto, et al. (Eds.), Hito,kotoba,shakai,bunka to komyunikeshon (pp. 160-179). Tokyo: Hokujyu Shuppan.
Hirai, K. (1996). Fukuzawa Yukichi no komyunikeshon. Tokyo: Seiji Shobo.
Hirayama, K. (1988). Gappon seinen shudanshi kenkyu josetsu. Tokyo: Shinsensha.
Inada, M. (2009). Jiyu minken undo no keifu–Kindai nihon no genron no chikara.  Yoshikawa-Kobunkan.
Inenaga, Y. (2005). Taishoki seinendan ni okeru kotoku shin no syuyo. Bulletin of Modern Japanese Studies, 22, 163-194.
Irokawa, D., Ei, H., & Arai, K. (1970). Minshu kenpo no sozo–Umoreta tamano jinmyaku. Tokyo: Hyoronsha.
Ishise, Y. (2008). Meiji chuki ni okeru seinen no kenshu katsudou to sado gakkai rengo kai. Sado Dento Bunka Kennkyuujo Nenpo, 1, 49-56.
Iwata, S. (1996). Mura no wakamono, kuni no wakamono–minzoku to kokumin togo. Tokyo: Miraisha.
Kamiya, K. (ed.). (1986). Chiho kairyo undo shiryo shusei, (Vol. 5). Tokyo: Kashiwashobo.
Kawasaki, S. (1910). Chiho seinen dantai no shido. Tokyo: Mizunoshoten.
Kim, K. H. (2008). The age of visions and arguments. Parliamentarianism and the national public sphere in early Meiji Japan. Boston, MA: Harvard UP.
Kimura, N. (1998). “Seinen” no tanjo-meiji nihon ni okeru seijiteki jissen no tenkan. Tokyo: Shinyosha.
Kono hakkajo wo ikani suruka: Rodo mondai no dai ronso. (1919, May 31). Kobe yushin nippo. Retrieved December 20, 2010, from http://www.lib.kobe-u.ac.jp/das/jsp/ja/ContentView.jsp?METAID=00791505&TYPE=IMAGE_FILE&POS=1
Kumagaya, T. (1929/1984). Teiso ni tsuite no toron. In Kumagaya Tatsujiro zenshu kanko iinkai (ed.), Kumagaya Tatsujiro zenshu (pp. 17-19). Tokyo: Keiso Shobo.
Kumagaya, T. (1942/1989). Fukkokuban dainihon seinendan shi. Tokyo: Nihonseinenkan.
Maeshiro, T. (1993). Meijiki no okinawaken ni okeru syakai taiikushi: Seinen kai to taiiku kaino katsudo wo chushin ni. Bulletin of College of Education, University of the Ryukyus, 43, 377-386.
Makiyama, E. (1918). Seinen kuniku no yogi. In Seinendan Chuobu (Ed.), Seinendan shido (pp.79-98). Tokyo: Teikoku Seinen Hakkojo.
Matsuzaki, K. (Ed.). (1991). Mita enzetsukai shiryo. Tokyo: Keio Gijuku Fukuzawa Kenkyu Senta.
Matsuzaki, K. (2005). Katarite toshiteno Fukuzawa Yukichi–Kotoba wo buki toshite. Tokyo: Keio University Press.
Matzuzaki, M. (2002). Meiji 20 nendai no seinen kasha to enzetsu toron–Taisei kai, kouu kai, machida kurabu –. Media Kenkyu, 2, 29-44.
Matsuzawa, H. (1991). Kogi yoron to toron no aida–Fukuzawa Yukichi no shoki  gikaisei kan. Hokudai Hogaku Ronshu, 41, 429-484.
Murakami, S. (1993). Komyunikeshon shuho no tankyu–toron (dibeto) no shiteki kosatsu wo chushin ni. Hiroshima Jyogakuin Daigaku Ronshu, 43, 135-159.
Murakami, S, & Sakata ,Y. (Eds). (1981). Meiji bunka shi 3: Kyoiku do toku. Tokyo: Hara Shobo.
Monbusho [Ministry of Education] (1972). Gakusei hyakunen shi. Tokyo: Gyousei.
Nakajima, R. (1918). Seinen no shinri. In Seinendan Chuobu (Ed.), Seinendan shido (pp.208-227). Tokyo: Teikoku Seinen Hakkojo.
Ohata, S. (2002). Soshu jiyu minken undo no tenkai. Tokyo: Yurindo.
Oikawa, K. (2001). Chiho ni okeru seinenkai seisaku to sono doko ni tsuite–kanagawa ken no jirei kara. Chiho Shi Kenkyu, 51, 23-43.
Okabe, R. (1973). Yukichi Fukuzawa: A promulgator of Western rhetoric in Japan. Quarterly Journal of Speech, 59, 186-195.
Okabe, R. (2002). Japan’s attempted enactments of Western debate practice in the 16^th and the 19^th centuries. In R. T. Donahue (Ed.), Exploring Japaneseness: On Japanese enactments of culture and consciousness (pp. 277-291). Westport, CT: Ablex Publishing.
Okazaki, Y. (1910). Mohanteki chiho seinen dan no shishin. Tokyo: Kaihatsusha.
Sau no ryoto ni wakare doudoutaru ronjin wo hari. (1919, June 10). Osaka Asahi Shinbun. Retrieved December 20, 2010, from http://www.lib.kobe-u.ac.jp/das/jsp/ja/ContentViewM.jsp?METAID=00791525&TYPE=HTML_FILE&POS=1
Seinendan Chuobu. (ed.). (1918). Seinendan shido. Tokyo: Teikoku seinen hakkojo.
Suehiro, Y. (1994). Dai yon sho taisho democrasi to kenmin: Dai issetsu dai ichiji sekai taisen to sengo shakai. Fukuiken shi tsushi hen, 5. Fukuiken. Retrieved June 18, 2010, from http://www.archives.pref.fukui.jp/fukui/07/kenshi/T5/T5-4a5-01-01-01-05.htm
Tago, K. (1918). Seinen dantai no soshiki. In Seinendan Chuobu (Ed.), Seinendan shido (pp.33-56). Tokyo: Teikoku seinen hakkojo.
Takemoto, S. (1926). Kanagawa ken seinen taikai narabini yuben taikai. In J. Kawakami (ed.), Ishikawa seinen kaikan kaikan shiki kinen cho (pp.21-23). Yokohama: Ishikawa Seinenkai.
Teikoku gikuwai ni nazoraheta rodosha no toron kai (1919, June 9). Osaka Mainichi Shinbun. Retrieved December 20, 2010, from http://www.lib.kobe-u.ac.jp/das/jsp/ja/ContentViewM.jsp?METAID=00728796&TYPE=HTML_FILE&POS=1
Tomasi, M. (2004). Rhetoric in modern Japan: Western influences on the development of narrative and oratorical . Honololu, HI: University of Hawai’i Press.
Yamamoto, T. (1896). Inaka seinem. Hiroshima: Author.
Yamamoto, T. (1910). Chiho seinen dantai. Tokyo: Rakuyodo.
Yamamoto, T. (1918). Seinendan kunren no jissai. In Seinendan Chuobu (Ed.), Seinendan shido (pp.99-122). Tokyo: Teikoku Seinen Hakkojo.
Yokoyama, K. (1901). Hanashi kata kyoju no eda ori. Tokyo: Toyosha.

1. Introduction
In this paper, I would like to deal with potentially fallacious uses of figurative analogies. The latter can be briefly defined as follows: Figurative analogies (also called “a priori analogies”, cf. Govier 1987, p. 58 or “different-domain analogies”, cf. Juthe 2005, p. 5, Doury 2009, p. 144) are arguments where similarities between entities belonging to entirely different spheres of reality are invoked. Some scholars dismiss such analogies as rationally insufficient means of argumentation. For example, eminent philosophers such J. St. Mill (cf. e.g. Mill 2005, p. 520f.; on Mill’s view of analogy cf. Woods 2004, p. 254) stressed the fact that arguments from analogy are based on a weak notion of similarity and often rely on false analogies. More recently, Lumer (1990, p. 288) criticized that arguments from analogy were given a place as a rational means of argumentation by Perelman & Olbrechts-Tyteca (1983); And Lumer even generally classified arguments from analogy as fallacies (cf. Lumer 2000, p. 414).

However, figurative analogies were considered not only as an ubiquitous, but also as a rational, albeit weak and often defeasible means of argumentation by other authors in many recent studies (cf. Kienpointner 1992, p. 392; Mengel 1995, p. 13; Woods 2004, p. 253; Juthe 2005, p. 15; Garssen 2007, p. 437; Langsdorf 2007, p. 853; Walton et al. 2008, p. 44). It is this perspective that I wish to take up and also consider to be the most plausible and fruitful one. The question, then, is not so much whether figurative analogies are fallacious. Rather, we have to ask which figurative analogies are fallacious, and in which contexts, and according to which parameters.

Starting from standard treatments of analogical arguments such as Perelman & Olbrechts-Tyteca (1983, p. 502ff.), but also taking into account recent treatments of figurative analogies within Pragma-Dialectics (cf. Garssen 2007), I would like to provide a systematic description of fallacious uses of arguments from figurative analogy. In order to do this, I will use a corpus of about 100 authentic examples, mostly taken from political discourse in Austrian newspapers and parliamentary debates, occasionally also from reports, interviews and advertising texts in Austrian media.

2. On the Structure of Figurative Analogies
In order to evaluate arguments from figurative analogy, we have to reconstruct their argumentative structure and to ask a series of critical questions. In the following, I take up suggestions made by Perelman/Olbrechts-Tyteca (1983), Coenen (2002) and Walton et al. (2008) for an explicit reconstruction of the structures underlying arguments from figurative analogy. This reconstruction can be supported by the presence of indicators of analogical argumentation, most of which also indicate arguments from direct comparison (cf. the following English, French and German indicators such as to be (just) as/like, to be the same as, to be similar to, can be compared to, as if, as though; être (exactement) comme, être comparable avec, c’est comme si (on disait); (genau) so zu sein wie, vergleichbar zu sein mit, Das wäre wie/als ob; cf. also Snoeck Henkemans 2003, p. 970ff., van Eemeren et al. 2007, p. 141ff. and Doury 2009, p. 148ff.).

Although Perelman & Olbrechts-Tyteca have not provided us with an explicit argument scheme underlying all arguments from figurative analogy, they plausibly follow Aristotle in analysing the basic structure of analogies. This basic structure is an essential part of arguments from figurative analogy, which occurs as a propositional element of the premises and conclusions of such arguments, namely, as the proposition “ C : D = A : B” stating the relevant similarity between the figuratively analogical entities. Perelman & Olbrechts-Tyteca reconstruct the basic relation between these entities, which belong to clearly differing domains of reality, as this proportion “C : D = A : B”, much in the same way as Aristotle explained metaphor as an analogy between two pairs of concepts (e.g. “high age : life = evening : day”; cf. Aristotle poet. 1457b; rhet. 1410b; Coenen 2002, p. 109).

Perelman & Olbrechts-Tyteca (1983, p. 501) call the better known (often concrete) terms C and D the “phoros” (“phore”) of an analogy, and the less well known (often abstract) terms A and B the “theme” (“thème”) of an analogy. They call an analogy adequate when the phoros is able to focus attention on those properties of the theme which are considered to be of prime importance. As to the problem of the evaluation of arguments from figurative analogy, Perelman & Olbrechts-Tyteca consider them an unstable means of argumentation (1983, p. 527), which has to be critically tested later on.

Variations of the basic structure “C : D = A : B” can be analogies with only three terms, for example, “B : A = C : B”. Perelman & Olbrechts-Tyteca (1983, p. 505) give the illustrative example of Heraclitus’ saying “In the sight of the divinity, man is as puerile as a child is in the sight of a man”, that is, “Man : divinity” = child : man” Analogies can be simpler (cf. above) or more complex than the prototypical four-term structure. More complex structures are analogies which involve a six-term structure “C : D : E = R : S. T” (cf. Coenen 2002, p. 195): “Marriage : spouse1 : spouse2 = prison : prison officer : prisoner”.

Valuable as it is as a first approximation, the analysis provided by Perelman & Olbrechts-Tyteca only allows a partial reconstruction of the structure of arguments from figurative analogies. Walton et al. are an important step forward in this respect, as they explicitly reconstruct all premises and the conclusion of arguments from figurative analogy (but cf. already Coenen 2002, p. 170, Woods 2004, p. 257f., Juthe 2005, p. 11ff. for comparable attempts). Moreover, they reconstruct analogical arguments involving facts as well as analogical arguments concerning values and norms. That is, Walton et al. (2008, p. 58, p. 62, p. 74) provide explicit reconstructions of descriptive and normative versions of schemes underlying arguments from figurative analogy, as well as a list of critical questions.

As to the plausibility vs. fallaciousness of arguments from figurative analogy, Walton et al. (2008, p. 61) insist that “argument from analogy is best seen as a defeasible argumentation scheme that is inherently weak and subject to failure, but that can still be reasonable if used properly to support a conclusion”. What does “be reasonable if used properly” mean? Walton et al. (2008, p. 83) explain that in spite of their inherent weaknesses, arguments from analogy can shift the burden of proof, if they are used together with other types of argument, such as arguments from expert opinion or appeals to witness testimony.

Below, I formulate slightly modified versions of these argument schemes: Unlike Walton et al. (2008), I use strictly parallel formulations for the descriptive and normative versions of the schemes. Furthermore, I formally distinguish the propositions “A” and “A’ ” in order to make clear that in the case of figurative analogies, proposition A and proposition A’ (and, likewise, action A and action A’) are only “figuratively” equivalent, as they belong to different domains of reality. Walton et al. (2008, p. 43ff.), however, use the term “analogy” indiscriminately both for “same domain” analogies and for figurative analogies.

Finally, I had to reformulate the original version of critical question 3 (“CQ3: Are there important differences (dissimilarities) between C1 and C2?”; cf. Walton et al. 2008, p. 62), because in the case of figurative analogies it is unavoidable that there exist important differences between Case 1 and Case 2 (cf. Juthe 2005, p. 5). The problem for the critical evaluation is whether these important differences are so overwhelming that the argument becomes fallacious (“Generally” in the Major Premise is not to be understood in the sense of a universal statement, cf. Govier 1987, p. 59f., Kienpointner 1992, p. 385, Juthe 2005. p. 16ff. and below, section 2):

Argument from figurative analogy, descriptive version:
Major Premise: Generally, case C1 is similar to C2 and C1 and C2 belong to (totally) different domains of reality.
Relevant Similarity Premise: The similarity between C1 and C2 observed so far is relevant.
Minor Premise: Proposition A is true (false) in case C1.
Conclusion: Proposition A’ is true (false) in case C2.

Argument from figurative analogy, normative version:
Major Premise: Generally, case C1 is similar to C2 and C1 and C2 belong to (totally) different domains of reality.
Relevant Similarity Premise: The similarity between C1 and C2 observed so far is relevant.
Minor Premise: To do A is right (wrong) in case C1.
Conclusion: To do A’ is right (wrong) in case C2.

Critical Questions for Arguments from Figurative Analogy
CQ1: Is A true (false)/Is it right (wrong) to do A in C1?
CQ2: Are C1 and C2 similar, in the respects cited?
CQ3: Are the important (that is, the most relevant) differences (dissimilarities) between C1 and C2 too overwhelming to allow a conclusion which crosses the different domains of reality to which C1 and C2 belong?
CQ4: Is there some other case C3 that is similar to C1 except that A’ is false (true)/to do A’ is wrong (right) in C3?

3. Criteria for the Evaluation of Arguments from Figurative Analogy
The following five pragmatic parameters (which are to be applied by relying on information about the verbal and situational context of the arguments from figurative analogy) allow a relatively clear distinction between plausible, albeit defeasible arguments from figurative analogy on the one hand, and fallacious arguments from figurative analogy on the other:
Parameter 1 concerns the balance between “distance” and “closeness” of the differing domains of reality. If the analogically related terms are too distant from each other, that is, if they belong to domains which have some shared similarities, but lack relevant similarities, we compare “apples with oranges” and commit the fallacy of false analogy (cf. Juthe 2005, p. 14); if the analogically related terms are too close to each other, we pretend to make a figurative analogy, but rather make a straightforward comparison, a mistake nicely illustrated by Woods (2004) with the example “Verdi is the Puccini of music”, which incorrectly applies the structure “X is the Y of Z” to a straightforward comparison, unlike the figurative analogy “Amsterdam is the Venice of northern Europe”, where the structure “X is the Y of Z” is used appropriately.

Of course, this does not mean that the resulting straightforward comparison is necessarily fallacious in itself. However, whenever a speaker tries to formulate a figurative analogy, but in fact makes a straightforward comparison, he or she fails in applying the respective argumentation schemes appropriately. Such a misapplication of a certain type of argument scheme or an inappropriate mixing of argument schemes could be called a fallacy in the broader sense of being an illegitimate move within a critical discussion aimed at the rational resolution of a conflict of opinions (cf. van Eemeren et al. 1996, p. 299; van Eemeren & Grootendorst 2004, p. 172).

Parameter 2 concerns the burden of proof assigned to arguments from figurative analogy. If these arguments are used as independent means of argumentation, they carry a greater part of the burden of proof and hence are more vulnerable to criticism; if, however, they are used as additional elements of proof (or only as presentational device; cf. Garssen 2007), supporting other arguments brought forward to prove or make plausible a controversial standpoint, they carry a smaller part of the burden of proof or are only intended to shift the burden of proof together with these other arguments. Their use as independent means of argumentation does not necessarily make figurative analogies fallacious, but it becomes more difficult for them to shift the burden of proof without additional arguments brought forward to support the respective controversial standpoint.

Parameter 3 deals with the use of figurative analogies as pro or contra arguments. If arguments from figurative analogy are used as means of argumentation which cast doubt on the opponent’s standpoint, they have a less ambitious goal than arguments intended to be a full proof of the own standpoint or a refutation or “reductio ad absurdum” of the opponent’s standpoint (on the dialectical orientation of figurative analogies cf. Doury 2009, p. 147). That is, sometimes figurative analogies are only intended as an objection to the argumentation of the opponent rather than as an argument for the opposite standpoint of the opponent.

Parameter 4 concerns the “didactic” value of figurative analogies. If arguments from figurative analogy are used to provide a simplified access to highly complex controversial issues, their argumentative value cannot simply be dismissed because they are a too simple means of argumentation.

Parameter 5 has to do with the “seriousness” of analogical arguments. If arguments from figurative analogy are intended as a humorous or satirical means of argumentation which tend to entertain or “let off steam” rather than to argue seriously, they have to be judged differently than arguments which are intended to be fully serious means of argumentation. This does not mean that humorous or satirical figurative analogies can never be judged as fallacious arguments. In fact, they could be considered fallacies according to the standards of a critical discussion within the Pragma-Dialectical framework. However, they could be justifiable as weak, but not necessarily fallacious arguments within other, more emotional types of argumentative dialogue, such as a quarrel (an eristic type of dialogue, cf. Walton 1992: 22).

Together with the critical questions listed above, some of these parameters will now be used to analyse a few test cases in some detail. These 6 case studies range from clearly fallacious uses of arguments from figurative analogy to clearly plausible uses, with cases of problematic, but not clearly fallacious instances in between.

4. Case Studies
The first case concerns a figurative analogy brought forward by Fiona Griffini-Grasser, a fashion designer and heiress of the Swarovski group, an Austrian crystal manufacturing enterprise. As a jet set lady, Griffini-Grasser has a record of making notorious public statements. In January 2010, in defence of her participation in the victory celebrations of skiing stars during the downhill races in Kitzbühel, Austria, two weeks after the catastrophic earthquake in Haiti (January 12, 2010) which killed approximately 230.000 people, Griffini-Grasser used the following argument from figurative analogy to justify her participation:
(1) Unsere Schifahrer riskieren auch ihr Leben. Das ist genauso wie in Haiti. Warum soll man sie nicht feiern?
(“Our skiers risk their lives, too. That’s just like in Haiti. Why shouldn’t we celebrate them?”)
(Kleine Zeitung, 23.1.2010, http://www.kleinezeitung.at/sport/schi/schialpin; seen last time on May 9, 2010)

The figurative analogy invoked by Griffini-Grasser can be reconstructed as follows: “Professional skiers (= C) : their great personal risk at downhill races (= D) = inhabitants of Haiti (= A) : their great personal risk due to the earthquake of January 12, 2010”.

Major Premise: Generally, running the deadly risk of living in an earthquake zone such as Haiti (= C1) is essentially similar to running the deadly risk of participating in downhill races as a professional skier (= C2) and C1 and C2 belong to (totally) different domains of reality.

Relevant Similarity Premise: The similarity between C1 and C2 observed so far, namely to run a deadly risk, is relevant.
Minor Premise: “Living in an earthquake zone such as Haiti is running a deadly risk” is true in case C1.
Conclusion: “Participating in a downhill race as a professional skier is a deadly risk” is true in case C2 in exactly the same way.

Checking this argument with the help of the critical questions listed above, I would like to make the following remarks: There is no doubt that it is true that the inhabitants of Haiti took a great risk in Haiti during the earthquake, as the enormous numbers of dead victims have shown (cf. CQ1, concerning the Minor Premise: Is A true (false) in C1?). As to the second critical question (CQ2: Are C1 and C2 similar, in the respects cited?), one could say that although professional skiers, skiing downhill races, the inhabitants of Haiti and the dangers of earthquakes belong to clearly different domains of reality, there are not only differences, but also some similarities. As such similarities, one might adduce the following ones: 1. Both downhill races and earthquakes pose a threat to the life of the persons who are regularly doing downhill races or persons who live in areas with a risk of dangerous earthquakes; 2. Both professional skiers and inhabitants of threatened areas are pursuing their potentially dangerous way of life intentionally (and as professional skiers could choose another job, Haitians could move away from Haiti, at least in principle, cf. below).

Of course, there are also differences, for example: You are paid for being a professional skier, but you are not paid for living in an area where dangerous earthquakes can occur; winning downhill races can bring you both economic success and social prestige, while living in areas threatened by earthquakes cannot bring you wealth or prestige just because your live there.

The third critical question (CQ3: Are the important (that is, the most relevant) differences (dissimilarities) between C1 and C2 too overwhelming to allow for a conclusion which crosses the different domains of reality to which C1 and C2 belong?) tries to check whether the similarities are relevant and important enough to counter these differences (cf. Juthe 2005, p. 14). While Griffini-Grasser’s argument survives the first and the second critical question relatively well, the third critical question has to be answered affirmatively, in a way which clearly demonstrates the fallacious character of her argument: The similarities between professional skiers and the inhabitants of Haiti are not relevant, whereas the differences clearly are: Downhill racers risk their lives for considerable amounts of money and out of ambition, whereas the inhabitants of Haiti earn nothing for their risk, nor are they ambitious just because they stay in Haiti.

Moreover, most of the Haitians are much too poor to be able to move elsewhere, anyway: Haiti was already the poorest country in Latin America before the earthquake, with extremely high rates of unemployment, illiteracy and starvation (cf. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Haiti; seen last time May 9, 2010). So Griffini-Grasser cannot plausibly justify her participation in the celebrations of professional skiers with the alleged “equivalence” of their endangerment of life with the victims of the Haiti catastrophe. Not only qualitatively, but also quantitatively, the 230.000 dead victims of the earthquake cannot be reasonably compared with the dead victims of accidents as a result of downhill races (probably not more than a few dozen in the last 50 years).

As to the parameters outlined in section 2, the distance between the domains of life of professional skiers and of (mostly poor) Haitians is too great to allow a plausible comparison of their risks (so Griffini-Grasser is comparing “apples and oranges”). Furthermore, she is not relying on other types of arguments which would reduce the burden of proof for her analogy. Moreover, there are no verbal indications that Griffini-Grasser did not mean her argument seriously. Finally, there are no downtoners like “in a way”, “somehow” or “almost”, which would make her analogical comparison less vulnerable to criticism. On the contrary, she said that professional skiers risk their lives “just like” (using the German indicator genauso wie) the inhabitants of Haiti. This, then, is a clear example of a fallacious use of an argument from figurative analogy.

Other arguments from figurative analogy are less clear-cut cases of fallacies and have some degree of plausibility, but are formulated in such an exaggerated way that they cannot claim to be acceptable in this formulation. Georg Schärmer, head of the Tyrolean section of “Caritas”, the charity organization of the Austrian Catholic church, is quoted by the ORF, the Austrian public television network, as harshly criticising the Austrian school system. This system allocates children at the age of 10 into two types of high schools: “Gymnasium” (10-18 years, the basis for college and university education) and “Hauptschule” (10-14 years, the basis for an apprenticeship, or, alternatively, for moving on to a “Gymnasium” or other types of advanced secondary schools, with an option of a following tertiary education). Schärmer is quoted calling this division “a system of apartheid” (ein Apartheidssystem), which divides up young children far too early and separates society into different layers:
(2) Heute gebe es ein Apartheidssystem. Kinder würden heute viel zu früh auseinanderdividiert in Leistungsgruppen oder in Hauptschule bzw. Gymnasium. “Wenn wir Kinder schon so früh auseinanderdividieren, dividiere man eine Gesellschaft auseinander.”
(“Today we have a system of Apartheid. Children are being separated much too early into different performance groups or into “Hauptschule” or “Gymnasium”. “If we divide children so early, we are dividing also society”; http://tirol.orf.at/stories/401294/; seen last time on 19 June 2010)

This assumption of an analogy between the Austrian school system and former South African apartheid was subsequently critized by Thomas Plankensteiner, a Tyrolean school inspector, who calls it an example of “Geschmacklosigkeit” (“bad taste”) to compare the Austrian school system with a political system where citizens were deprived of their rights and persecuted because of the colour of their skin (in an article in the Tyrolean newspaper Tiroler Tageszeitung, November 12, 2009, p. 28). And indeed, it has to be conceded to Plankensteiner that the figurative analogy “the black majority and other “coloured” people in the South African apartheid system (= C) : the ruling white minority in South Africa during the time of apartheid (= D) = the allocation of the lower classes in the Austrian school system” (= A) : the allocation of the upper class in the Austrian school system” (= D)” is hardly tenable.

Schärmer has a point when he insists on the fact that the Austrian school system still tends to support existing social structures and hierarchies, but it cannot be denied that nowadays many children who go to “Hauptschule” later on move to the upper section of “Gymnasium” or other advanced secondary schools (according to Plankensteiner (ibid.), 70% of the pupils who pass the final exam of highschools at the age of 18 in Tyrol come from “Hauptschulen”). More important than this, he cannot plausibly try to relate the controversial and much debated issue of the best way to organize the Austrian national school system with the South African apartheid system of the years 1948-1994. Schärmer’s analogical comparison of the Austrian school system with an authoritarian, racist and exploitative society such as in South Africa during this period, where black and other “coloured” people were deprived of their citizen rights, is simply unacceptable. There is no relevant similarity which would be important enough to justify this analogical comparison. Therefore, Schärmer’s analogy fails to comply with CQ3. While his other critical arguments, involving the negative effects of an early division of school children, would certainly deserve further consideration, their plausibility is weakened by his argument from figurative analogy.

Even more problematic is the following case. Although the presumption of innocence is to be respected for any person facing ongoing law suits, there are justified doubts about the acceptability of attempts by Silvio Berlusconi, Italy’s Prime minister, to use his political power to modify Italian laws in order not to be found guilty in law suits concerning bribery and tax fraud. According to Berlusconi, the law suits against him are the attempts of subversive judges and state attorneys to overturn the government and to ruin his political career. Be that as it may, the following argument is formulated in such a clearly exaggerated way that it cannot successfully pass the examination with critical questions on arguments from figurative analogy (cf. especially CQ2 on similarities, CQ3 on relevant differences between the analogically related entities):

(3) Berlusconi: “I miei processi? I legali mi sconsigliano di presentarmi, troverei un plotone d’esecuzione”.
(“Berlusconi: “My law suits? My lawyers discourage me from presenting myself, I would face an execution squad”; la Repubblica online, 20.1.2010; http://www.repubblica.it/ politica/2010/01/20/news/aula-processo-2016916/; seen last time May 9, 2010)
[Already last year, Berlusconi was quoted in the Austrian newspaper Salzburger Nachrichten, November 28/29, 2009, p. 4 as follows: ““Die Gerichte, die über mich urteilen, sind Hinrichtungskommandos, denen das Handwerk gelegt werden muss”, erklärte der Premier”; “The courts which judge me are execution squads which have to be stopped, declared the Prime Minister”]

Berlusconi claims that “A person to be executed (= C) : the execution squad (= D) = Silvio Berlusconi (=A) : Italian courts (= B)”. Differently from further examples from political discourse which I will present below, this argument is not intended as a humorous or satirical attack, or at least there are no clear verbal indicators of irony or of a satirical hyperbole. So there are no mitigating factors, apart from the fact that Berlusconi does bring forward other arguments for his position, which are, however, weakened rather than supported by this implausible exaggeration.

The following examples are taken from parliamentary discourse. They contain arguments from figurative analogy which are part of heckling shouts on members of parliament. As far as their evaluation is concerned, they pose problems differing from those which have appeared in the other examples discussed so far. That is, on the one hand, they are clearly fallacious uses of the argument from figurative analogy because they evidently compare “apples with oranges”, and they are at the same time abusive attacks ad hominem; on the other hand, they clearly cannot be analysed according to standards of a critical discussion (cf. van Eemeren & Grootendorst 2004, pp. 123ff.), because they are a constitutive part of heckling in parliamentary discourse, that is, a quarrel, a dialogue type where very often standards for the rational solution of a conflict of opinion are suspended in order to “let off steam” and/or to make fun of the political opponent, frequently by using aggressive satirical formulations. This is clearly not rational and cooperative, but different from the other examples of problematic arguments from figurative analogy discussed so far, these instances of heckling are not intended to be taken seriously. Therefore, the classification of fallacious arguments from figurative analogy must assign them a specific place.

Here are two examples, in which the political opponent – in these cases the Austrian Social Democrats (= SPÖ) – is compared to a mentally handicapped person, a (small) child, and a little side car, respectively, whereas the Austrian Conservatives (= ÖVP), who are currently working together with the Social Democrats in a government coalition, are portrayed as their trustee, their legal guardian, or as a car which has a little side car, respectively. Of course, it can hardly be justified that political parties of about equal strength as far as parliament members and percentage of voters are concerned, such as the SPÖ and the ÖVP (with the SPÖ at the moment being even slightly stronger and providing the prime minister), can be equated with asymmetric role distributions such as “parent/legal guardian : children” or “trustee : mentally challenged people”, where the ÖVP is made the superior partner. So again, the relevant similarities are lacking (cf. CQ3).

These heckling attacks often are aggressive reactions (interrupting shouts) to speeches presented by Social Democrats or by Conservatives. They are very often brought forward by members of the BZÖ, an Austrian right-wing conservative party, which was the result of internal conflicts and a following split within the Austrian right-wing Freedom Party (= FPÖ). These BZÖ members accuse the ruling government of trying to cover up several alleged political scandals, with the ÖVP acting as the leading partner and the SPÖ as the passive follower of the ÖVP. All three figurative analogies (e.g. “A trustee (= C) : a mentally challenged child (= D) = ÖVP (= A) : SPÖ (= B)”) mentioned above are (repeatedly) formulated in example (5):
(4) Nat.Abg. G. Grosz (a member of the BZÖ): Die ÖVP ist eigentlich der Sachwalter der SPÖ!
(“Member of Parliament G. Grosz: The ÖVP actually is the trustee of the SPÖ!”; Protocol of the 50th Session of the National Assembly (“Nationalrat”), November 12, 2009, p. 299)
(5) Nat.Abg. J. Bucher (another member of the BZÖ): Lieber Herr Kollege Cap, heute haben wir es schon gehört, Sie sind das Beiwagerl der ÖVP, die ÖVP ist der Erziehungsberechtigte der SPÖ. Meine sehr geehrten Damen und Herren, die ÖVP ist mittlerweile der Sachwalter der SPÖ! (Beifall beim BZÖ und bei Abgeordneten der FPÖ)
(“Member of Parliament J. Bucher: Dear colleague, Mr. Cap, today we have already heard that you are the tiny side car of the ÖVP, the ÖVP is the legal guardian of the SPÖ: My dear ladies and gentlemen, in the meantime the ÖVP has become the trustee of the SPÖ! (Applause from the BZÖ and some Members of Parliament of the FPÖ, the Austrian right-wing Freedom party)”; Protocol of the 50th Session of the National Assembly (“Nationalrat”), November 12, 2009, p. 305)

The cases I have analysed so far rather suggest that arguments from figurative analogy are indeed inevitably fallacious or at least in danger of becoming fallacies. However, the following example shows that this is not always the case. In fact, this example is a rather clear case of a plausible application of arguments from figurative analogy.

It is taken from a guest commentary in the Austrian newspaper “Der Standard”, written by Dr. Franz Fischler, Conservative politician and former Austrian Minister of Agriculture, also former EU Commissioner of Agriculture:
(6) Franz Fischler: […] Es wäre geradezu verantwortungslos, den Fehler, dass man bei der letzten Steuerreform einer Steuerstrukturdebatte aus dem Weg gegangen ist, zu wiederholen. Noch dazu, wo eine bessere Annäherung an die von uns selbst gewählten Kiotoziele [sic!] auch beträchtliche Einsparungen bringen würden.
Es ist eine Illusion zu glauben, dass wir beim Energieverbrauch weitermachen können wie bisher. Eine Ausrichtung unseres Steuersystems auf soziale und Klimaziele ist daher schon längst fällig. Nicht Ökosteuern sind „ein Schuss ins eigene Knie“, wie es derzeit von manchen Titelseiten prangt, sondern nichts zu tun und die Dinge laufen zu lassen wie bisher wäre ein „Schuss ins Knie“, nämlich ins Knie unserer Kinder und Enkelkinder.
(Franz Fischler: […] It would really be irresponsible to repeat the mistake of evading a debate about the structure of taxes as was done during the last tax reform. And that in spite of the fact that a better approximation towards the Kyoto goals chosen by ourselves could also lead to considerable spending reductions.
It is an illusion to believe that we can continue our energy consumption as we have until now. An orientation of our tax system towards social and climate goals, therefore, is long overdue. Not ecotaxes are like “shooting ourselves in the foot”, as you can read on many front pages today. But to do nothing and carry as we have before would be to “shoot ourselves in the foot” – in the feet of our children and grandchildren”; Der Standard, March 27/28, 2010, p. 12)

In this passage, Fischler puts forward several arguments in favour of ecotaxes. These arguments are “pragmatic arguments” (cf. Perelman & Olbrechts-Tyteca 1983, p. 358; Schellens 1985, p. 153ff.; Kienpointner 1992, p. 340f.), which argue for or against the performance of certain acts with their assumed positive or negative effects. More particularly, according to Fischer, ecotaxes would have positive effects on the global climate and on the reduction of the budget deficit, whereas going on with the status quo would have a negative impact on the climate. Only after these pragmatic arguments does Fischler use an argument from figurative analogy, which is actually a counter argument against another figurative analogy, as he quotes, “the Austrian economy (= C) : the introduction of ecotaxes (= D) = a person (= A) : shooting oneself in the foot (= B)”. Fischler’s counter analogy claims that “the Austrian economy (= C): continuing without the introduction of ecotaxes (= D) = a person (= A) : shooting in the feet of his/her children and grandchildren (= B)”.

The structure of Fischler’s argument can be reconstructed as follows:
Major Premise: Generally, to shoot in the feet of one’s children or grandchildren (= C1) is similar to performing acts which have very dangerous effects on one’s planet’s climate (= C2) and C1 and C2 belong to (totally) different domains of reality.
Relevant Similarity Premise: The similarity, namely, to do considerable harm, between C1 and C2 observed so far is relevant.
Minor Premise: “To shoot in the feet of one’s children or grandchildren is wrong” in case C1.
Conclusion: “To go on with the status quo as far as the tax system is concerned (with all the resulting bad effects on the climate)” is wrong in case C2.

I would now like to turn to the evaluation of Fischler’s argument from figurative analogy. There is no doubt that “shooting in the feet of one’s (grand-)children” is wrong (cf. CQ1). There are also similarities between C1 and C2, namely, doing considerable harm to somebody/something. Furthermore, this harm is both avoidable and the result of irresponsible, unacceptable acts both in C1 and C2 (cf. CQ2).

As to the decisive question whether this similarity is a relevant/important one, the following remarks seem to be justified: As the overwhelming majority of climatologists predict catastrophic consequences of the ongoing climate change, Fischler’s analogy is far from being exaggerated. One could even claim that it is an understatement and that doing nothing against climate change would rather be like “shooting in the head of one’s children and grandchildren”. So his analogy is not exaggerated and makes important and relevant similarities between different kinds of harm explicit, namely, the analogy between “harming oneself or one’s children and grandchildren severely” and “harming the planet’s climate severely”.

The figurative analogy also has didactic merits, as it is far easier to understand that hurting one’s (grand)children seriously is a most irresponsible and unacceptable kind of action than understanding how the current economic and ecological policies negatively affect the earth’s climate: a complex of causes and effects which is far more complex and not easy to understand and evaluate for lay persons. Moreover, Fischler uses the figurative analogy only as a supportive additional argument for his pragmatic arguments, not as the only one or the most central and fundamental one. Finally, Fischler’s figurative analogy is also used as a counter argument against the dubious assumption that ecotaxes would have very negative effects (“to shoot oneself in the foot”). Even if Fischler’s argument from figurative analogy is not accepted as a full refutation of the status quo of tax policies and a definitive proof of his own standpoint, it has at least enough plausibility to cast doubt on the status quo as far as ecotaxes are concerned. So, all in all, this is a case of a plausible argument from analogy.

5. Conclusion
Arguments from figurative analogy have been reconstructed with the help of a slightly revised version of the descriptive and normative argument schemes and the list of critical questions established by Walton et al. (2008). The most important critical question is the following one (= CQ3): “Are the important (that is, the most relevant) differences (dissimilarities) between C1 and C2 too overwhelming to allow a conclusion which crosses the different domains of reality to which C1 and C2 belong?” In addition, a few pragmatic parameters for the evaluation of arguments from figurative analogy are useful for clarifying the argumentative value of these arguments (e.g. their use as independent arguments or as additional, supportive arguments; their status as pro or contra arguments; their seriousness etc.).

The 6 case studies analysed above have shown that many instances of the argument from figurative analogy are fallacious or that they are at least highly problematic types of argument. Nevertheless, there are also plausible uses of this type of argument. Therefore, a general negative evaluation of arguments from figurative analogy as fallacies is out of place. Such a generally negative attitude towards these arguments cannot explain the substantial differences as to their degree of plausibility which manifests itself if authentic examples from everyday argumentation are taken into consideration. The case studies have also shown that arguments from figurative analogy can be seen as specific cases of “strategic maneuvering” (cf. van Eemeren 2008; van Eemeren & Houtlosser 2002; van Eemeren & Grootendorst 2004) which can be a legitimate means of argumentation in some cases, but can also “derail” in other situations. So I fully agree with the following remark by Juthe (2005, p. 4): “As with all the other types of arguments, there are good and bad arguments by analogy”.

REFERENCES
Aristotle  (1965). Poetics. Ed. by R. Kassel. Oxford: Clarendon.
Aristotle (1991). On Rhetoric. Transl. by G.A. Kennedy. Oxford: Oxford University Press.
Coenen, H.G. (2002), Analogie und Metapher. Berlin: de Gruyter.
Doury, M. (2009). Argument Schemes Typology in Practice: The Case of Comparative Arguments. In F.H. van Eemeren & B. Garssen (Eds.), Pondering on Problems of Argumentation (pp. 141-155). New York: Springer.
Eemeren, F.H. van (Ed.)(2008). Special Issue: Strategic Maneuvering in Institutional contexts. Dedicated to Peter Houtlosser (1956-2008). Argumentation. 22 (3).
Eemeren, F.H. van, & Grootendorst, R. (2004). A Systematic Theory of Argumentation. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Eemeren, F.H. van, & Houtlosser, P. (2002). Strategic Maneuvering with the Burden of Proof. In F.H. van Eemeren (Ed.), Advances in Pragma-Dialectics (pp.13-28). Amsterdam: SicSat.
Eemeren, F.H. van, Grootendorst, R., Snoeck Henkemans, A.F., Blair, J.A., Johnson, R.H., Krabbe, E.C.W., et al. (1996). Fundamentals of Argumentation Theory. Mahwah, N.J.: Erlbaum.
Eemeren, F.H. van, Houtlosser, P., & Snoeck Henkemans, A.F. (2007). Argumentative Indicators in Discourse. A Pragma-Dialectical Study. Dordrecht: Springer.
Garssen, B. (2007). Comparing the Incomparable: Figurative Analogies in a Dialectical Testing Procedure. In F.H. van Eemeren, J.A. Blair, Ch.A. Willard & B. Garssen (Eds.): Proceedings of the Sixth Conference of the International Society for the Study of Argumentation (pp. 437-440). Amsterdam: SicSat.
Govier, T. (1987). Problems in Argument Analysis and Evaluation. Dordrecht: Foris.
Juthe, A. (2005). Argument by Analogy. Argumentation 19 (1), 1-27.
Kienpointner, M. (1992). Alltagslogik. Stuttgart/Bad Cannstatt: Frommann-Holzboog.
Langsdorf, L. (2007). Changing our Minds: On the Value of Analogies for Extending Similitude. In F.H. van Eemeren, J.A. Blair, Ch.A. Willard & B. Garssen (Eds.): Proceedings of the Sixth Conference of the International Society for the Study of Argumentation (pp. 853-857). Amsterdam: SicSat.
Lumer, Chr. (1990). Praktische Argumentationstheorie. Braunschweig: Vieweg.
Lumer, Chr. (2000). Reductionism in Fallacy Theory. Argumentation, 14 (4), 405-423.
Mengel, P. (1995). Analogien als Argumente. Frankfurt/M.: Lang.
Mill, J.St. (2005). A System of Logic Ratiocinative and Inductive. Boston, MA: Elibron Classics, Adamant Media Corporation (orig. 1843).
Perelman, Ch. & Olbrechts-Tyteca, L. (1983). Traité de l’argumentation. Bruxelles: Editions de l’université de Bruxelles.
Schellens, P.J. (1985). Redelijke argumenten. Utrecht: ICG Printing.
Snoeck Henkemans, A.F. (2003). Indicators of Analogy Argumentation. In F.H. van Eemeren, J.A. Blair, Ch. A. Willard & A.F. Snoeck Henkemans (Eds.): Proceedings of the Fifth Conference of the International Society for the Study of Argumentation (pp. 969-973). Amsterdam: SicSat.
Walton, D.N. & Reed, Chr., & Macagno, F. (2008). Argumentation Schemes. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Woods, J. (2004). The Death of Argument. Dordrecht: Kluwer.

1. Introduction
1.1  Political structure in Croatia
Political system in Croatia is multi-party parliamentary republic. The State Authority is divided into the Legislative, Executive and Judicial Authority. The Legislative Authority is Croatian Parliament that may have a minimum of 100 and a maximum of 160 members, who are elected directly by secret ballot based on universal suffrage for a term of four years. 6^th assembly of the Croatian Parliament was constituted on 11 January 2008 following the parliamentary elections held on 25 November 2007 in 12 electoral districts. 153 representatives were elected. Currently the Croatian Parliament has 153 members. They are in session twice a year: the first session runs between 15 January and 15 July, while the second session runs from 15 September to 15 December. The Croatian Parliament can also hold extraordinary sessions at the request of the Croatian President, the Government or a majority of parliamentary deputies. Extraordinary sessions may be convened by the Speaker of the Croatian Parliament after obtaining the prior opinion of the clubs of parliamentary parties. Executive powers are exercised by the Croatian Government that consists of the Prime Minster, one or more Deputy Prime Ministers and ministers. The organization, mode of operation and decision-making of the Government are regulated by law and the rules of procedure. Currently, the head of the Government is Jadranka Kosor and the Government is formed by HDZ (Croatian Democratic Union) in coalition with HSS (Croatian Peasant Party) and SDSS (Independent Democratic Serbian Party). Political life in Croatia includes political parties as well. From the beginning, i.e. from the first free, multiparty democratic elections in 1990, the number of parties is constantly changing. Šiber (2001:103) says that that kind of numerical instability, as well as parties with vague political profiles, are typical for countries in transition. He continues that political parties in stable democracies have tradition and clear and stable programs, while countries in transition are still trying to form their party system because political parties merge, fraction, appear and disappear. Čular (2001:89) points out that Croatian party system consists of 7 larger parties: HDZ (Croatian Democratic Union), SDP (Social Democratic Party), HNS (Croatian Peoples Party), HSLS (Croatian Social Liberal Party), HSS (Croatian Peasant Party), IDS (Istrian Democratic Assembly) and HSP (Croatian Party of the Right). In January 2008 there were 11 parties: above-mentioned plus HDSSB (Croatian Democratic Alliance of Slavonia and Baranja), HSU (Croatian Party of Pensioners), SDSS (Independent Democratic Serbian Party) and SDA (Party of Democratic Action of Croatia).

1.2. Left-wing and right-wing parties in Croatia
According to the Lexicon of basic political terms the dominant feature of left-wing parties is liberalism. Prpić (1994:223) defines it as a political philosophy that takes freedom to be the main criterion for the evaluation of social institutions. Key terms of liberalism are freedom, individualism, equality, social justice and democracy. On the other hand, dominant feature of the Right is conservativism which is considered to have great influence on the development of modern states. It implies the respect for authority while the key terms are law, legality, sovereignty, nationalism and union. According to the research conducted by Banković-Mandić (2007:5-6), the identity of the Right is seen through a great amount of pathos, moralizing and emotions thus reflecting law, sovereignty and nationalism. The identity of the Left is connected with reasoning, situation analysis, rationality, lack of emotions, social justice and equality. Political parties in Croatia use their programs to declare their affiliation to the Right or Left option, or to the Centre. But the research by Banković-Mandić (2007:5-6), based on the usage of rhetorical figures, as well as the public opinion survey, have shown that many parties have problems with their profile – they classify themselves one way and the public perceives them differently. There is also a discrepancy between the wing the party belongs to (and public identity) and political statements members of particular party give. For example, HDZ (Croatian Democratic Union) emphasizes their vicinity to the Centre, but the public sees them as the Right. IDS (Istrian Democratic Assembly) declare that they are left-wing party, but the public perceives them as right-wing. Interesting results appear concerning HSP (Croatian Party of the Right) which classify themselves as right-wing party (even ultra right-wing 10 years ago) while on the basis of the statements from their members they are considered to be the Centre, even slightly left-wing. Left-wing parties in Croatia are thought to be SDP (Social Democratic Party) and HNS (Croatian Peoples Party). Struggle for the equality of all citizens and abolition of impregnability as left-wing trademarks, have been assigned to HNS. HSLS and HSS have been recognized as the Centre just as they classify themselves. Škarić (2009:15-16) used to talk about left-wing parties and their ideology and rhetoric as well as how people perceive that ideology in Croatia. “Left-wing ideology is much safer because those who represent it have taken position of those whose ideology does not need explanations. Those who are left-wing are therefore a priori right, at the same time they are more ethical, and they are in position to criticize without having fear for their own position. On the other hand, those who are in the Centre and on the Right are in the position that constantly makes them feel guilty about their ideology.”

2. Theoretical Background
Fallacies in argumentation have been in the spotlight for many years and analyzed by many argumentation theorists. Therefore, many definitions and different classification of fallacies have been made, but all of them agree that fallacies are mistakes in reasoning. Hamblin says: “As almost every account from Aristotle onwards tells you, a fallacious argument is the one that seems to be valid but is not so.” (1970:12). The first classification of fallacies was given by Aristotle who made difference between fallaciae dictionis (refutations that depend on language) and fallaciae extra dictionem (refutations that do not depend on language). After Aristotle there were many classifications of fallacies, but for the purpose of this research, Tindale’s classification has been used. It includes a great number of fallacies and covers most of the fallacies used in political discourse as well as in everyday argumentation. Tindale says: “A fallacy is a particular kind of egregious error, one that seriously undermines the power of reason in an argument by diverting it or screening it in some way.”(2007:1). In Tindale’s classification there are: fallacies of diversion, fallacies of structure, problems with language, ad hominem arguments, other “ad” arguments, the ad verecundiam and misuse of experts, sampling, correlation and cause and analogical reasoning. The other author who was also of great importance for our research is Weston. He simply states that “fallacies are mistakes, errors in arguments” (1992:52) and that some are more common then the others. The two most common fallacies by Weston are: generalizing from incomplete information and overlooking alternatives. We included them in our analysis.

3. Purpose and Hypothesis
The research has several closely connected purposes. Firstly, the aim is to find out how often do Croatian politicians in Croatian Parliament make fallacies. Their argumentation is of main interest, as well as their tendency to use “false arguments”. Secondly, the aim is to see whether the politicians are going to differ in the usage of fallacies according to the party they belong to as well as according to their position in the Parliament. Previous research (Kišiček, 2008:189-203) analyzed fallacies in argumentation according to the gender of the politician (regardless of the party he or she belongs to). The paper has shown that there are fallacies that are more typical for male as those that are more typical for female speakers (e.g. argumentum ad verecundiam was used more by male speakers and argumentum ad misericordiam was used more by female speakers). However, most of the fallacies were used equally by both male and female (argumetum ad populum, generalizing from incomplete information, false cause, overlooking alternatives, red herring, etc.). The purpose of this research is to find out differences on the basis of political affiliation.

Starting hypothesis was based on the main characteristics of the Left and the Right. Taking into account that left-wing parties are in favor of equality of all people and equal rights, it was expected to see them using more argumentum ad populum, ad misericordiam and overlooking alternatives. On the other hand, right-wing parties that represent respect for authority, national awareness and moral are expected to use more argumentum ad baculum, ad hominem, ad verecundiam and generalizing from incomplete information.

However, it is believed that the great number of fallacies will be equally used by all parties and the type and frequency will depend on the topic of discussion. For example, if the topic is the prevention of juvenile violence or violence against women, ad misericordiam is likely to be used, if the topic is house building, there will be false analogy, red herring, false cause and if the topic is the modification of the Constitution, non sequitur, ad baculum and ad hominem will probably appear.

4. Materials and Methods
For the purpose of the research 20 sessions of the Parliament (from 23 September 2009 to 20 May 2010) have been analyzed. Duration of the session depends on the agenda and the topic discussed. However, on average they last for two hours.

In order to see whether the type and number of fallacies in argumentation is influenced by the topic of discussion, different topics have been taken; from Act on Golf Courses and Juvenile Violence Act to constitutional changes that are most interesting to the media. As one session (the discussion on one topic) lasts two hours in average, altogether about 40 hours of material have been analyzed. The procedure was made easier by the fact that all sessions from the past few years are available for viewing at the official internet site of Croatian Parliament (http://itv.sabor.hr/video/).

The list of the fallacies obtained from the analyzed sessions includes the following information: name of the fallacy, name of the person who used it, date and time, and the topic of discussion. In determining whether the mistake in reasoning really happened, the context of the fallacy was taken into consideration. The material gathered is analyzed in order to find out which fallacy is used most often in the Parliament as well as in order to see which party is most prone to the usage of fallacies. However, the main goal of our research is to find which “side” i.e. which ideology (right of left) makes more fallacies and are there differences in the types of fallacies they make. Therefore, we were not interested in particular speakers and their duration and frequency of speaking, but in the duration and frequency of member of particular party. Finally, what was important for the analysis was that both “sides” (left and right) participated in analyzed parliamentary debate for the same amount of time.

For this purpose, Tindale’s (2007) classification of fallacies has been used as well as Weston`s division on “two great fallacies” (1992:52-53).

5. Results and Discussion

The analysis of fallacies in Croatian Parliamentary debate includes 404 fallacies which are listed according to the frequency of their usage.

Most often used fallacy is argumentum ad populum – a fallacious argument that concludes a proposition to be true because many or all people believe it. This fallacy is often accompanied by words like: “Everybody knows that.”, “It is common sense.” and similar. Argumentum ad populum was equally used by all politicians regardless of their political position. However, IDS representatives with 43% have the greatest percentage of usage among Parliament Members. They are followed by HDZ with 25% and SDP and HNS, both with 13%.

Another fallacy on the top of the list is argumentum ad hominem. However, that fallacy is not used by all Members of Parliament and all political parties equally. It can be found in the speeches given by the members of HDZ in much higher percentage – 66%. Other parties use it occasionally, SDP – 20%, HNS -7%, HSS – 7%. This kind of ad hominem distribution confirms the starting hypothesis that right-wing parties will use Argumentum ad hominem more often. It is important to note that the party that uses ad hominem most often is the party in power. When being criticized for their way of governing, it was more or less expected from the party in power, in lack of arguments, to reach for this kind of fallacy in order to attack and discredit the opposition.

The third fallacy according to the percentage is considered to be one of the two greatest fallacies by Weston (1992:53). The usage of overlooking alternatives also confirmed our hypothesis. It was mostly used by the parties in opposition, by left-wing representatives who form their claims proposing only one possibility that would bring social justice, fairness and equality. The fallacy of overlooking alternatives is distributed in the following way: 43% SDP, 38% IDS, 16% HNS and only 3% HDZ.

Right next to the fallacy of overlooking alternatives in the percentage of usage is red herring known also as diverting attention. This fallacy includes the introduction of a new equally interesting topic in order to temporarily or permanently conceal the lack of arguments on the topic discussed. It can be found in speeches of all parties, i.e. IDS – 47%, HDZ – 25%, SDP – 14%, HNS – 14%.

Another fallacy that was not evenly distributed among left-wing and right-wing parties is argumentum ad misericordiam or the appeal to pity. Our hypothesis that it would be used more by left-wing parties has been confirmed: SDP – 50%, IDS-20%, HDZ – 17 %, independent representatives – 13%.

On the other hand, fallacy that was used more by right-wing parties is generalizing from incomplete information. Faced with a lot of criticism, the party in power gives incomplete information and makes general conclusions in order to justify their actions. Therefore, the percentage of usage of this fallacy by HDZ is 66%, by SDP 17% and by independent representatives 17% as well.

There are other fallacies that are constantly used in Croatian Parliamentary Debate by both the Right and the Left, although not so often: non sequitur, ad baculum, concession, false analogy, false cause, qualification, peticio principii, slippery slope, equivocation, straw man, argumentum ad verecundiam.

Table 1
List of fallacies according to the percentage of usage

When analyzing fallacies according to the parties speakers belong to, most fallacies were made by HDZ – 31 %. Right behind in the number of fallacies are IDS representatives, particularly one representative Damir Kajin, with 29 %. 24 % of all fallacies belong to SDP, 8 % to HNS, 7 % to independent representative Dragutin Lesar and 1 % to HSS.

Overall analysis shows that left-wing parties, which are in opposition to the party in power, make more fallacies than right-wing parties. However, Parliamentary debates very often take form in which the opposition is in fact the Affirmative trying to change the existing state and therefore they make more confrontation, more criticism and more fallacies. The party in power, even when proposing an act, has parliament majority so they take the position of  “the defense” as they argue in favor of their ideas.

6. Conclusion
Concerning the given analysis, one can conclude that Parliamentary debates are full of fallacies in argumentation. Every politician included in the analysis had made a fallacious argument during the session. However, not all politicians provide the same amount of fallacies in argumentation. Although, on the basis of Škarić’s (2009:15-16) conclusion, one would expect less fallacies from the Left because they are a priori in the position of representing ethical goals that do not need explanations, the analysis has shown the opposite. The reason for such results is their current role of opposition in the Parliament, meaning that they criticize more often; they contradict the Parliament majority more often and therefore make more fallacies in argumentation. This does not mean that they are less logical or that right-wing party in Croatian Parliament has better argumentation, it just goes to show that left-wing Members of Parliament make a stand more often.

The analysis has shown that there are certain fallacies that are more characteristic for particular parties. For example, argumentum ad hominem is definitely the fallacy typical for HDZ – right-wing party that is currently in power, while the fallacy of overlooking alternatives is typical for left-wing parties in opposition. Most often used fallacy is argumentum ad populum that is equally characteristic for all political parties.

Further research might include the analysis of Parliamentary Debate from 2000 to 2004 when the circumstances concerning the party in power and the opposition were reversed; when left-wing parties were in power. It would be interesting to see whether fallacies were used differently back then, i.e. whether the argumentation (and fallacies in argumentation) depends on political ideology or political position.

REFERENCES
Banković-Mandić, I. (2007). The left and the right identities. In. J. Granić (Ed.) Language and Identities (pp. 5-6), Zagreb-Split: HDPL.
Čular, G. (2001). Vrste stranačke kompetencije i razvoj stranačkog sustava. Zagreb: Fakultet političkih znanosti.
Hamblin, Ch. L. (1970). Fallacies. London: Methuen.
Kišiček, G. (2009). Equally different? Comparison of female and male rhetoric in political discourse. Govor, časopis za fonetiku. 2 XXV; 189-203.
Krabbe E; Walton, D. (1993). It’s All Very Well for You to Talk! Situationally Disqualifying Ad Hominem Attacks. Informal Logic, Vol 15, No 2. (www.informallogic.ca)
Prpić, I. (1994). Leksikon temeljnih pojmova politike. Sarajevo: Otvoreno društvo BiH.
Schmidt, M. & R. Grootendorst (1986). On Classifications of Fallacies Informal Logic. Informal Logic, Vol 8, No 2. (www.informallogic.ca)
Šiber, I. (2001). Političko ponašanje birača u izborima 1990-2000. Zagreb: Fakultet političkih znanosti, Zagreb).
Škarić, I. (2009). Left ideology always fails in praxis. Zagreb: Glas Koncila br. 1, 1802
Tindale, C. (2007). Fallacies and Argument Appraisal (Critical reasoning and argumentation), Cambridge / New York : Cambridge University Press.
Walton, D. (2004). Relevance in Argumentation. Mahwah, New Jersey, London: LEA Publishers.
Walton, D. (2006). Fundamentals of Critical Argumentation. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Weston, A. (1992). A rulebook for Arguments. Indianapolis / Cambridge:Hackett Publishing Company.
Woods, J. and Walton, D. (1989). Fallacies: Selected Papers 1972-1982. Dordrecht: Foris.

During the latter part of the 20^th century, and in particular during the last two decades, advertising has become increasingly visual (cf. Leiss et al. 2005, Gisbergen et al. 2004, Pollay 1985). Imagery now dominates advertising. Considering advertising as a kind of argumentation, we may ask how we actually argue by means of pictures, or more specifically, how we argue with ads that are predominantly visual.

In this article, I will argue that visual rhetorical figures in advertising – meaning both tropes and figures – are not only ornamental, but also support the creation of arguments about product and brand. My claim is that rhetorical figures direct the audience to read arguments into advertisements that are predominantly pictorially mediated. Pictures are ambiguous, but rhetorical figures can help limit the possible interpretations, thus evoking the intended arguments.

1. Pictorial Argumentation
This article limits itself to examining a certain kind of pictorial argumentation, namely visual tropology in commercial advertising. However, it should be acknowledged that several works have accounted for the existence and nature of visual argumentation in general (e.g. Finnegan 2001, Birdsell & Groarke 2007, Kjeldsen 2007, Groarke 2009). Drawing upon such works, we may assume that, in spite of the reservations of some researchers (e.g. Flemming 1996, Johnson 2004), it is both possible and beneficial to consider pictures and other instances of visual communication as argumentation. My own view is that visual argumentation is characterised by an enthymematic process, in which the visuals (e.g. pictures) function as cues that evoke intended meanings, premises and lines of reasoning. This is possible because an argument, whether visual or verbal, is not a text, or “a thing to be looked for, but rather a concept people use, a perspective they take” (Brockreide 1992). Argumentation is communicative action, which is performed, evoked, and must be understood in a rhetorical context of opposition.

I have suggested elsewhere (e.g. Kjeldsen 2001, 2002) that pictorial rhetoric can be characterised by four specific visual qualities: 1) the power to create presence (evidentia), 2) immediacy in perception, 3) realism and indexical documentation, and finally 4) semantic condensation. Semantic condensation can be both emotional (evoking emotions) and rational (evoking arguments and reasoning).

Pictures, I suggest, argue primarily by means of context and condensation. They offer a rhetorical enthymematic process where something is omitted, and, as a consequence, the spectator has to provide the unspoken premises. Rational condensation in pictures, then, is the visual counterpart of verbal argumentation. However, the spectator needs certain directions to be able to (re)construct the arguments,  i.e. some cognitive schemes to make use of.
Sometimes, such schemes may be found in the context itself, such as in the circumstances of the current situation (cf. Kjeldsen 2007). At other times – particularly in advertising – the viewer’s (re)construction of arguments is enabled through visual tropes and figures. Metaphor and metonymy, synecdoche and hyperbole, ellipsis and contrasts are among the most common types of visual argumentation (e.g. Kjeldsen 2000, 2008, McQuarrie & Mick 2003, Forceville 2006).
No print advertisement is entirely without words, however. Verbality in ads can be either found as written words, as the name of the product or even as the viewers’ mental concepts for interpretation. Despite this, the dominance of the pictorial renders the question of visual argumentation pertinent. According to semiotics, verbal communication employs an arbitrary code, and pictures an iconic one. Viewed as a code based on motivated signs, a picture is perceived to have either no articulation or only second-order articulation (cf. Barthes 1977, Eco 1979, Chandler 2006).

Consequently, “pertinent” and “facultative” signs in pictures cannot be clearly distinguished. Umberto Eco, among others, suggests that the iconic coding in pictures is weak (Eco, 1979, p. 213). This means that pictures lack the syntax to guide the viewers to determine precisely what the different elements might mean or how these elements should be semantically connected.
This might seem to suggest the exclusion of the possibility that pictures can make arguments – and it would mean that advertisements would have to let the words do the argumentation. However, by accepting the fact that most print advertising is predominantly visual and the claim that advertising is argumentation, we should acknowledge that pictures in advertisements do in fact perform argumentation – or at least play an important role in establishing arguments in advertisements (cf. Ripley 2008, Kjeldsen 2007, Slade 2003).
On the other hand, some claim that advertising is not really argumentation, but rather a subconscious and irrational kind of psychological persuasion (Johnson & Blair 1994, p. 225, Blair 1996, cf. Slade 2003). However, the fact that theoretical definitions, demarcations, delineations, and descriptions of argument from Aristotle to van Eemeren actually fit advertising communication quite nicely suggests that “an ad is indeed an argument” (Ripley 2008, cf. Slade 2002, 2003). I should probably add that the ability of pictures and advertisements to provide arguments does not ensure that all such arguments are good, valid or convincing.

2. Reconstruction of Pictorial Argumentation through Context
One of the ways pictures are able to produce argumentation is their use of the viewer’s knowledge of the situation and context that will allow the viewer to (re)construct the argument herself (cf. Kjeldsen 2007). However, this requires a particular kind of situation that will lead the viewer to perceive the image as a piece of argumentation and provide enough cues to let the viewer construct the argument. Situations or circumstances that help the viewer to evoke the arguments must entail a context of opposition.
Establishing claims, premises and their connection through such contextual knowledge is more readily done in ongoing debates and in specific, well-defined situations – something we encounter in politics from time to time. In such circumstances, the visual will be able to tap into existing and already proposed arguments. As an illustration of this fact, let us take a closer look at a cartoon of the NATO Secretary General, Anders Fogh Rasmussen.

The drawing was published in the Danish newspaper Politiken (9 Dec. 2001)[i] while Fogh Rasmussen was the Prime Minister of Denmark. It shows the standing, unshaven Prime Minister in frontal pose, looking directly at the viewer. He is removing his suit jacket, revealing himself as an ancient cave man wearing a shaggy animal hide.
The cartoon only makes sense if we are aware that Anders Fogh Rasmussen was known as an economic liberalist, and the author of the book “From the Social State to the Minimal State”.[ii] He was a proponent for limiting state intervention in the life of individuals, claiming that everyone would be better off fending for themselves. While most people outside Denmark would not be able to make rhetorical sense of the cartoon without this piece of information, it enthymematically tapped into an ongoing debate in Denmark about limiting the Danish welfare state. The cartoon is not an illustration, since it is not accompanied by a text, and it is more than just a visual statement, because it invites the viewer to construct a metaphorical argument against the Prime Minister; the cartoon argues that under the classy suit, the Prime Minister is really a political cave man, a primitive social Darwinist, who does not acknowledge or care for people unable to fend for themselves and in need of a proper welfare state to help them.

Contextual decoding, as required in the above example, might be more difficult in commercial advertising, where the viewer is usually unable to connect the particular text to any specific circumstances, debates or discourses. All we have is knowledge of the general genre and its aim: to sell products and to promote brands.
As a general rule, advertising cannot be regarded as a mixed difference of opinion, where two parties hold opposing standpoints (cf. Eemeren et al. 2002, p. 8ff.). Advertising communication is best described as a single, non-mixed difference of opinion; only one party (the advertiser) is committed to defending only one standpoint. Because we know the context of this difference of opinion, we also know the stated aim: “Buy this!” This is a proposition shared by all commercial advertising. No matter what an advertisement communicates, it will always, either directly or indirectly, carry this claim.

This ultimate proposition may be called the final claim. Knowing the context and the final claim, every viewer is provided with a starting point for discovering the premises supporting the final claim, and in this way reconstructing the argumentation. We should, of course, not forget that advertising also performs other argumentative functions (or claims) such as enhancing a company’s image and reputation (ethos). Much contemporary commercial advertising aims more at brand reputation than directly encouraging consumers to buy the product. In such advertisements, a penultimate claim argues for the character or quality of the brand, claiming something along the lines of “This brand/company is cool/socially responsible/high class”.
Because of the artful execution of the advertisements I analyse in the present text, it would also be possible to extract such ethos argumentation, forwarding propositions such as: “This is an artful and intelligent advertisement, so the product/brand/user must be artful and intelligent”. In this text, however, I will only be examining argumentation entailing the final claim “Buy this!”

3. Reconstruction of Pictorial Argumentation through Rhetorical Figures
In the hermeneutic circumstances of advertising, the use of rhetorical figures may help guide the viewer to making the intended inferences. Figures are constituted by certain recognisable patterns: A metaphor requires viewing something in light of something else; a contrast requires opposites; and a chiasmus is only a chiasmus if it presents a repetition of ideas in inverted order.
Thus, the figurative presentation controls the interpretation by letting the viewer notice “an artful deviation in form that adheres to an identifiable template” (McQuarrie and Mick 1996). This kind of augmented control is possible (Philips & McQuarrie 2004, p. 114):
because the number of templates is limited, and because consumers encounter the same template over and over again, they have the opportunity to learn a response to that figure. That is, through repeated exposure over time consumers learn the sorts of inference operations a communicator desires the recipients to undertake […]. Because of this learning, rhetorical figures are able to channel inferences.
So, rhetorical figures may function argumentatively by directing the viewer’s attention toward certain elements in the advertisement and offering patterns of reasoning. This guides the viewer towards an interpretation with certain premises that support a particular conclusion.
This understanding of rhetorical figures as patterns of thought and reasoning was not prominent in classical rhetoric. Modern theory of rhetoric has, however, acknowledged these epistemological and argumentative dimensions.

The works of Lakoff and Johnson (1980), Jeanne Fahnestock (2004), Christian Plantin (2009), and, of course, Perelman and Olbrechts-Tyteca (1971) have illustrated the argumentative character of rhetorical figures. Perelman and Olbrechts-Tyteca reject the common view of tropes and figures as pure ornament. Tropes and figures may be embellishment, but sometimes they are best considered as a form of argumentation. They consider (1971, p. 169):
a figure to be argumentative, if it brings about a change of perspective, and its use seems normal in relation to this new situation. If, on the other hand, the speech does not bring about the adherence of the hearer to this argumentative form, the figure will be considered an embellishment, a figure of style. It can excite admiration, but this will be on the aesthetic plane, or in recognition of the speaker’s originality.

According to Perelman and Olbrechts-Tyteca, tropes and figures may bring about a change in perspective in three ways: They may impose a choice, increase the impression of presence, and they may bring about communion with the audience (ibid.). Christopher Tindale provides a slightly more technical explanation of the argumentative dimensions of rhetorical figures. Like arguments, they are “regularised patterns, or codified structures that transfer acceptability from premises to conclusions” (2004, p. 73).

These argumentative changes in perspective and the transference of acceptability are also possible in pictures, because communication through tropes and figures such as metaphors, metonymies or contrasts is not a verbal, but a cognitive phenomenon (cf. Lakoff & Johnson 1980, McQuarrie and Mick 2003, Forceville 2006, Kjeldsen 2002, 2007).
Furthermore, pictorial tropes and figures are potentially more efficient than words in increasing the impression of presence, since pictures actually show us what words can only tell us. Pictorial tropology is also, I suggest, at least equally as efficient in imposing choice and bringing about communion. Thus, the formal character of tropes and figures may also be found in pictures, and help elicit lines of reasoning evoked visually.

4. Examples of Pictorial Argumentation established by Rhetorical Figures
If figures “are to be recognised as arguments”, whether verbal or visual, “they will need to encourage the same movement within a discourse, from premise to conclusion.” (Tindale 2004: 73). In order to show how a rhetorical figure may help the viewer construct the argument of the advertisement, I will provide a few examples of how visual figures encourage the transfer of acceptability from premise to conclusions in commercial advertising.
The first ad is for Energizer Batteries. The brief was to increase sales of Energizer Lithium Batteries over the Christmas period. Because of the large number of batteries intended for toys commonly purchased over the Christmas period, parents were identified as the target audience. The picture shows a boy standing in a garage or a workshop. Behind him is a cupboard with paintbrushes and paint. He holds a brush with red paint in his right hand, smiling down at a white, unwitting dog sitting next to him.

What might the viewer’s route of interpretation look like when attempting to decode this ad? When trying to make sense of the ad, the viewer will search the picture’s central elements for any clues to its meaning. Firstly, the viewer might notice the boy looking at the dog while holding a paintbrush in his hand. Secondly, the viewer might notice the product logo and slogan in the lower left-hand corner: “Energizer. Never let their toys die. The world’s longest lasting battery. Energizer.” Since neither the slogan nor the picture make much sense on their own, the viewer must look for the connection between the two in order to make sense of them together. Confronted with the proposition: ”Never let their toys die”, the viewer is inclined to question why, and then to seek an answer in the image. Seeing the boy, who is looking at the dog, the viewer is invited to question what is actually taking place. What does the picture (and the ad as a whole) say? The answer is found when the viewer infers what the boy might be thinking and what he is about to do. In Toulmin’s terms, the intended argumentation can be (re)constructed more or less like this:

Final claim 1: Buy this battery.
Ground 1: It will keep the toys working (for a long time).
Warrant 1: You want to keep your toys working for a long time.

Claim 2 (warrant 1): You want to keep your toys working for a long time.
Ground 2: Working toys keep children occupied.
Warrant 2: You want to keep your children occupied.

Claim 3 (warrant 2): You want to keep your children occupied.
Ground 3: Children who are not occupied cause unfortunate events to happen.
Warrant 3: You do not want unfortunate events.
Backing 3: You do not want the kids to paint your dog.

Refraining from showing what will happen, the ad makes use of a visual ellipsis. Through omission, it invites an enthymematical construction of an argument based on a causal argument scheme (cf. Eemeren & Grootendorst 1992, Eemeren et al. 2002, Eemeren & Grootendorst 2003) proposing that buying Energizer Batteries will lead to the prevention of unfortunate events. The implicit story in the ad has a somewhat hyperbolic character, which seems to be a common trait among many of the ads eliciting arguments through visual figures. The exaggeration helps make the meaning – and argument – clear.

We can see the same kind of elliptic and hyperbolic character in an ad for Kitadol, a pharmaceutical brand manufactured in Chile. The product is designed to help women cope with the effects of menstrual pain and abdominal swelling. It was promoted in a print advertising campaign aimed at women’s male partners. In the ads, the women were replaced with a boxer, a wrestler and a Thai boxer. The tag line is “Get Her Back”, followed by the brand name and indication of use: “Kitadol Menstrual period”. The campaign won a Silver Press Lion at the Cannes International Advertising Festival 2010.

How does this ad work rhetorically?
We look at the picture and realise that something is not quite right. The boxer does not seem to belong in this particular setting. He is placed exactly where a woman, i.e. a wife and a mother, would normally sit. The boxer and the man reading the paper exhibit the nonverbal behaviour that we would normally recognise as the interaction between man and woman in a tense or strained relationship. The man is looking nervously at the boxer, and the boxer has turned his back on the man while staring sourly into the adjacent child’s stroller.
Hence, in accordance with relevance theory (Sperber and Wilson 1986), we realise that the boxer does not belong in this setting, and we have to replace him with something else if the advertisement is to have any relevance for us, or if it is to make any sense at all. The picture creates an implicature[iii], an implicit assumption, which the viewer has to transform into an explicit proposition, namely the metaphoric claim that “female spouses are (like) aggressive boxers when they have their periods”. Since a major part of this proposition is visually manifest (we can actually see an aggressive boxer), we may consider the proposition as strongly implicated (Sperber & Wilson 1986, p. 194ff., Forceville 2006, p. 90ff.)
Taken together, the genre, the knowledge of the brand, the final claim and the metaphorically communicated implicature invite the viewer to a line of inference that will be something like this:
Female spouses are (like) aggressive boxers when they have their periods.
Kitadol removes this aggressiveness.
Therefore you should buy Kitadol (for your wife).

In Toulmin’s model, it can be described like this:
Final claim: You should (Q: really) buy Kitadol.
Ground: Female spouses are (like) aggressive boxers when they have their periods.
Warrant: Kitadol removes this aggressiveness.

Of course, the key to the correct figurative interpretation is the brand name and the slogan “Get her back”, which indicates that your spouse is gone because she has mutated into an aggressive monster. This invites a similar line of reasoning:
Claim:  Your spouse is gone.
Ground: She has turned into an aggressive boxer (because of her period).
Warrant: When your spouse has turned into an aggressive boxer, she is gone.

This connects to an argument, with the slogan functioning as claim:
Claim: You should get your spouse back.
Ground: She has turned into an aggressive boxer.
Warrant: When your wife turns into an aggressive boxer, you should get her back.

Often, it makes the most analytic sense to view the figurative implicature (which is partly manifest here) as a ground in the argument; however, it may also make sense to view the implicature as backing. Because both ground and backing usually emerge as facts, evidence and categorical statements, they appear to be more readily expressed visually than warrants do:
Claim: You should get your spouse back.
Ground: She has changed.
Warrant: Menstrual periods change women.
Backing: During their periods, spouses behave like aggressive boxers.

The different possibilities of argument construction outlined above illustrate that visual figures may offer several avenues of interpretation to one main argument. However, they also illustrate one of the challenges with analysis of predominantly pictorial argumentation. Because of the semiotic character of pictures, they often do not give the viewer any clear signs of what the different elements of the argument are, or how they should be connected.

Compared with verbally dominated argumentation, pictures do not allow for the same kind of indicators of argumentation (cf. Eemeren et al. 2002, p. 39). Furthermore,  pictures do not generally provide us with indicators such as because, therefore or with the exception of. Neither do they offer much help in determining and distinguishing between claim, ground, warrant, backing or qualifier.
However, even though it may be difficult to establish a single and undisputed reconstruction of the argument, the figurative explicature provides the consumer with clear directions to the main argument for buying Kitadol: It will bring their spouses back. We might analytically reconstruct the main line of argument in many ways, but to the viewer, I propose, the argument is still pretty obvious.
Through a visual hyperbolic metaphor, the ad helps the viewer construct an argument based on a causal argument scheme (cf. Eemeren & Grotendorst 1992, Eemeren et al. 2002, Eemeren & Grotendorst 2003), suggesting that buying Kitadol will lead to the solution of a pertinent problem.

Hopefully, these two examples have illustrated how visual figures invite the construction of arguments. Once we acknowledge this persuasive ability in predominantly pictorial communication, we may be able to more readily recognise this kind of visual argumentation in similar ads. Without any elaborate analysis, we may, for instance, recognise the argument in the ad from the Israeli bookstore chain Steimatzky: The visually manifest part of the implicature in the ad is the shrunken head. It is a visual metaphor evoking an argument based on a causal argument scheme, and it proposes that if you don’t read, your brain will shrink. The reasoning can be rendered like this:

Final claim 1: Buy books.
Ground 1: You should read more.
Warrant 1: If you buy more books, you read more.

Claim 2 (Ground 1): You should read more.
Ground 2: If you watch TV instead of reading, your brain will shrink and become underdeveloped (you will become stupid).
Warrant 2: You don’t want an underdeveloped brain.

Claim 3 (Ground 2): If watch TV instead of reading, your brain will shrink and become underdeveloped (you will become stupid).
Ground: Reading is like exercise or food for your brain.
Warrant: What you do not exercise or feed will shrink and become underdeveloped.

Whereas most visual figures seem to invite arguments based on causal argument schemes, we can also find advertising argumentation based on other kind of schemes. In an ad for the Snicker’s chocolate bar, we once again encounter a hyperbolic representation, this time through bodily distortion, creating an argument based on a symptomatic argument scheme, claiming that Snickers belong to the categories of big things:
Final claim 1: Buy this Snickers.
Ground 1: It is big.
Warrant 1: You should buy big chocolates.

Claim 2 (Ground 1): It is big.
Ground 2: If you put it into your mouth it will stick out of your neck.
Warrant 2: Anything that will stick out of your neck after you put it into your mouth is big.

5. Conclusion
Visual figures hold a special rhetorical potential in persuasive communication because they allow for interpretative openness and active involvement while simultaneously providing clear directions that guide the viewer towards certain arguments.
The ads using visual figures are open to interpretation concerning the connotations of the different elements shown. In the Energizer ad, we may think of different things in connection with the garage as a place, with being a boy or with the pleasure or pain dogs may provide. As described by Eco (1979, 1989), such interpretative possibilities are characteristic of open texts. The necessary participation of the viewer in constructing the meaning and arguments of the ads also distinguish such open texts.
Ketelaar, Gisbergen and Beentjes (2008) have argued that such open ads have the common characteristic that consumers are not manifestly directed toward a certain interpretation, and that the presence of rhetorical figures are one of five antecedents rendering an advertisement more open; the others being presence of a prominent visual, absence of the product, absence of verbal anchoring, and a low level of brand anchoring.

However, my analysis of the above advertisements indicates that the presence of rhetorical figures actually helps delimit the possibilities of interpretation, hence creating not an open ad, but rather an ad that is open in some respects and closed in others. It is closed in the sense that particular rhetorical figures guide the viewer’s construction of the arguments in the ad in question.
The rhetorical figures thus help create relatively straightforward arguments. These arguments may prove complex when analysed, but may, nonetheless, be relatively easily decoded by the viewer, presuming of course that the viewer’s attention has been caught. Hence, ads using visual figures bear the characteristics of a closed text in Umberto Eco’s sense. The openness in the advertisements does not obstruct or obscure the lines of reasoning offered by visual figures;  the cognitive participation of the viewer in creating the reasoning is controlled by the formal characteristics of the visual figures.
While hopefully my brief analyses have indicated the argumentation embedded in these advertisements, they may also have given the impression that pictorial argumentation is simply a matter of extracting verbal lines of reasoning and presenting them in argumentation models. This is clearly not the case. Pictorial communication simply cannot be transformed into verbal propositions. There is a difference between the two modes of representation. Pictures and visual figures provide vivid presence (evidentia), realism and immediacy in perception, which is difficult to achieve with words only. We can actually see the big boxer and are invited to feel the pain he may inflict and experience the similarities between him and a spouse in a bad mood. In this manner, the semantic condensation of pictorial representation has the ability of performing a sort of “thick description” (cf. Geertz 1973) in an instant, while providing both a full sense of an actual situation and an embedded narrative. This “thickness” disappears when we reduce the pictorial representation to “thin” propositions. Nevertheless, if we are to understand the rhetorical potential of the advertisements, we must reconstruct and explain the arguments they offer. This is best done through words and models. We just have to bear in mind that this is only part of the rhetorical and argumentative potential of advertisements that are predominantly pictorial.

NOTES
[i] The cartoon can be seen at: http://politiken.dk/fotografier/reportagefoto/article657481.ece (drawing no. 2) .
[ii] The Danish title is: “Fra socialstat til minimalstat – En liberal strategi” (Samleren, København 1993).
[iii] Explicatures are assumptions that are explicitly communicated: ”an explicature is a combination of linguistically encoded and contextually inferred conceptual features. The smaller the relative contribution of the contextual features, the more explicit the explicature will be, and inversely” (Sperber and Wilson 1986, p. 182).

REFERENCES
Birdsell, David & Leo Groarke. 2007. Outlines of A Theory of Visual Argument. Argumentation & Advocacy 43, 103-113.
Blair, J.A. (1976). The Possibility and Actuality of Visual Argument. Argumentation and Advocacy 33, 1-10.
Brockriede, W. (1992). Where is Argument. In W.L. Benoit, D. Hample, & P.J. Benoit (Eds.), Readings in Argumentation (pp. 73-78).
Eco, U. (1979). The Role of the Reader. Bloomington: Indiana University Press.
Eco, U. (1989). The Open work. Cambridge, Massachusetts: Harvard University Press.
Chandler, D. (2006). Semiotics. The Basics. New York: Routledge.
Eemeren, F. H. van, & Grootendorst, R. (1992). Argumentation, Communication, and Fallacies: a Pragma-dialectical Perspective. Hillsdale, N.J.: L. Erlbaum.
Eemeren, F. H. van, Grootendorst, R., Snoeck Henkemans, F. (2002). Argumentation: Analysis, Evaluation, Presentation. Mahwah, NJ: L. Erlbaum.
Eemeren, F.H. van, & Grootendorst, R. (2003). Systematic Theory of Argumentation: The Pragma-Dialectical Approach. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Fahnestock, J. (2004). Figures of Argument. Informal Logic, 24(2), 115-135.
Finnegan, Cara A. (2001). The naturalistic enthymeme and visual argument: photographic representation in the ”skull controversy”. Argumentation and Advocacy, 37, 133-149.
Fleming, David (1996). Can Pictures Be Arguments? Argumentation and Advocacy, 33, 11-22.
Forceville, C. (2006 (1996)). Pictorial Metaphor in Advertising. New York: Routledge.
Geertz, C. (1973). Thick Description: Toward an Interpretive Theory of Culture. In The Interpretation of Cultures: Selected Essays (pp. 3-30). New York: Basic Books.
Groarke, Leo. (2009). Five Theses on Toulmin and Visual Argument. In F.H. van Eemeren B. Garssen (Eds.), Pondering on Problems of Argumentation (pp. 229-239). Amsterdam: Springer.
Johnson, R. H. & Blair, J.A. (1994). Logical Self-Defense. New York: McGraw-Hill.
Johnson, Ralph H. (2004). Why ‘Visual Arguments’ aren’t Arguments. In Hans V. Hansen, Christopher Tindale, J. Anthony Blair, and Ralph H. Johnson (Eds.), Informal Logic at 25, CD-ROM. Winsor, Ont.: U of Winsor 2004.
Ketelaar, P., Gisbergen, M.S. & Beentjes, J.W.J. (2008). The Dark Side of Openness for Consumer Response.  In McQuarrie, E.F., Phillips, B.J. (Eds.), Go figure. New Directions in Advertising Rhetoric. Armonk, N.Y.: M.E. Sharpe.
Kjeldsen, J. E. (2000). What the Metaphor could not tell us about the Prime Minister’s Bicycle Helmet. Rhetorical Criticism of Visual Rhetoric. Nordicom Review, 21(2), 305-327.
Kjeldsen, J. E. (2001). The Rhetorical Power of Pictures. In Jostein Gripsrud & Fredrik Engelstad (Eds.), Power, Aesthetics, Media (pp. 132-157). Oslo: Unipub forlag.
Kjeldsen, J. E. (2002). Visuel retorik [Visual Rhetoric]. PhD. Thesis. Department of Media Studies. University of Bergen. Norway.
Kjeldsen, J. E. (2003). Talking to the Eye – Visuality in Ancient Rhetoric. Word & Image, 19(3), 133-137.
Kjeldsen J. E. (2007). Visual Argumentation in Scandinavian Political Advertising: A Cognitive, Contextual, and Reception Oriented Approach. Argumentation & Advocacy, 43, 124-132.
Kjeldsen, J. E. (2008). Visualizing egalitarianism – political print ads in Denmark. In Jesper Strömbäck, Toril Aalberg & Mark Ørsten (Eds.), Political Communication in the Nordic Countries (pp. 139-160). Göteborg: Nordicom.
Lakoff, G.. & Johnson, M. (1980). Metaphors We Live By. Chicago: Chicago University Press.
Leiss, W., Kline, S., Jhally, S., & Botterill. J. (2005). Social Communication in Advertising. Consumption in the Marketplace. New York: Routledge.
McQuarrie, E. F., & Mick, D.G. (1996). Figures of Rhetoric in Advertising Language. Journal of Consumer Research, 22, 424-437.
McQuarrie, E. F. & Mick, D.G. (2003). The Contribution of Semiotic and Rhetorical Perspectives to the Explanation of Visual Persuasion in Advertising. In L. Scott & R. Batra (Eds.), Persuasive Imagery: A Consumer Response Perspective (pp. 191-221). Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum.
Perelman, C. & Olbrechts-Tyteca, L. (1971 (1969)). The New Rhetoric: A Treatise on Argumentation. Notre Dame: University of Notre Dame Press.
Philips, B. J. & McQuarrie, E. F. (2004). Beyond Visual Metaphor: A New Typology of Visual Rhetoric in Advertising. Marketing theory, 4, 113-136.
Plantin, C. (2009). A Place for Figures of Speech in Argumentation Theory. Argumentation, 23, 325-337.
Pollay, R. (1985) The Subsiding Sizzle: A Descriptive History of Print Advertising 1900-1980. The Journal of Marketing. 49(3). 24-37.
Ripley, M. L. (2008). Argumentation Theorists Argue that an Ad is an Argument. Argumentation, 22, 507-519.
Slade, C. (2002). Reasons to Buy: The Logic of Advertisements. Argumentation, 16, 157-178.
Slade, C. (2003). Seeing Reasons: Visual Argumentation in Advertisements. Argumentation 17, 145-160.
Smith, V. (2007). Aristotle’s Classical Enthymeme and the Visual Argumentation of the Twentyfirst century. Argumentation and Advocacy, 43, 114-123.
Sperber, D. & Wilson, D. (1986) Relevance: Communication and Cognition. Oxford: Blackwell.
Tindale, C. (2004). Rhetorical Argumentation. Principles of Theory and Practice. Thousands Oaks: California.
van Gisbergen, M. S., Ketelaar, P.E. & Beentjes, H. (2004). Changes in Advertising? A Content Analysis of Magazine Advertisements in 1980 and 2000. In Peer Neijens, C. Hess, B. van der Putte & E. Smith (Eds.), Content And Media Factors in Advertising (pp. 51-61). Amsterdam: Het Spinhuis.

Credits for ads
Ad number 1:
Energizer Batteries: “Never let their toys die. The world’s longest lasting battery. Energizer”
Advertising Agency: DDB South Africa
Creative Director: Gareth Lessing
Art Director: Julie Maunder
Copywriter: Kenneth van Reenen
Photographer: Clive Stewart
Published: December 2007
Link to ad: http://adsoftheworld.com/media/print/energizer_lithium_batteries_paint?size=_original

Ad number 2:
Kitadol menstrual period: “Get her back”
Advertising Agency: Prolam Y&R, Santiago, Chile
Executive Creative Director: Tony Sarroca
Creative Director: Francisco Cavada
Art Director: Jorge Muñoz
Copywriters: Fabrizio Baracco, Cristian Martinez
Account manager: Francisco Cardemil
Link to ad: http://adsoftheworld.com/media/print/kitadol_menstrual_period_boxer?size=_original
Courtesy of: Y&R

Ad number 3:
Steimatzky book chain: “Read more”
Advertising Agency: Shalmor Avnon Amichay / Y&R Interactive Tel Aviv, Israel
Chief Creative Director: Gideon Amichay
Creative Director: Tzur Golan
Creative Team Leader: Amit Gal
Art Director: Ran Cory
Copywriter: Geva Kochba
Link to ad: http://adsoftheworld.com/media/print/steimatzky_read_more?size=_original
Courtesy of: Shalmor Avnon Amichay / Y&R Interactive Tel Aviv

Ad number 4:
Snickers chocolate: “50% extra”
Advertising Agency: The Assistant
Creation: J.O & J.B
Photography: K. Meert
Published: 2007
Link to ad: http://adsoftheworld.com/media/print/snickers_big?size=_original

1. Introduction
Argument scholars have articulated a conception of argument skills that can be used to examine the relation of meta-cognitive knowledge to skillful argument use. Walton (1989), for instance, suggests that skillful argument includes proving your own thesis, challenging your opponent’s claim and reasoning, and honestly responding to your opponent’s challenges. Van Eemeren and Grootendorst (2004) believe that to be a reasonable discussant, one should at least defend one’s standpoint with relevant argumentation, applied with appropriate argument schemes, clear formulations and without falsely attributing starting points or unexpressed premises to one’s opponent.

Applying a constructivist framework, four competence issues could be conceived in relation to any specific argument skill. These include the nature and forms of specific functional competencies, such as what counts as skillful argument; the determinants of skillful behavior for specific competencies, such as the abilities and motivations necessary to engage in argumentation; the antecedents of specific competencies, such as socialization experiences related to argument skills or educational efforts designed to cultivate argument skills; and finally the consequences of individual differences in specific competencies, such as the effects of particular argument skills (Burleson, 2007).

Most constructivist research has focused on social perception and the message production process. Individual differences in social knowledge (such as cognitive complexity) have been found to be positively related to integrative and person-centered message strategies in a variety of communication contexts (see the review of Burleson & Caplan, 1998). That is, communicators with highly complex cognitive systems are more likely to design persuasive and behavioral change messages that acknowledge, legitimate, and elaborate on the desired individual attributes of the interactants. Extending the constructivist framework to argument skill, constructivist theorizing could focus on identifying important activity types relevant to argument (such as facilitating behavior change) and relevant issues within these activity types; theorizing could also examine the role of reasoning in constituting taken as shared understandings in argument activities (Taylor, 1992), as well as focus on the role of reasoning for designing person-centered and integrative messages that facilitate argument acceptance. It is the last skill that is the focus of this empirical study. Differences in the extent to which arguers reflect on matters of evidence and proof to provide the best justification for their claims may affect how arguers design person-centered and integrative messages to facilitate audience acceptance of their arguments.

1.1. Research on meta-cognitive knowledge and argument skill
Two programs of research on intellectual development are relevant to theorizing the relationship of meta-cognitive knowledge about argument and argument skill. One research program is that of Deanna Kuhn and her colleagues (e.g., Kuhn, 1991, 2005; Kuhn, Goh, Iordanou & Shaenfield, 2008; Kuhn & Udell, 2003). Kuhn contends that intellectual development includes the development of both inquiry and argument skills and should be the aim of education because these skills prepare students for thinking and citizenship in a democratic society. In Kuhn’s model, argument skills comprise activities such as generating, elaborating and developing reasons into arguments, evaluating reasons, generating counterarguments and rebuttals, and conducting two-sided arguments. Focusing on middle school students, Kuhn and her colleagues have documented age-related changes in argument skills, and they have also shown that at risk students can be trained in argument skills (Kuhn, 2005; Kuhn & Udell, 2003).

A second program of research on intellectual development has been the work of King and Kitchener (1994). Their Reflective Judgment Model is situated within the  cognitive-developmental tradition, and describes developmentally ordered changes in individuals’ epistemic beliefs about knowledge and knowing, and how these beliefs are reflected in the way beliefs about controversial issues are justified (Kitchener, King & Deluca, 2006). Among young adults, pre-reflective thinking is characterized by justifying views with authorities or personal opinion, quasi-reflective thinking is characterized by beginning to use evidence to justify beliefs, and fully reflective thinking is featured by comparing evidence, reasoning and opinions from different perspectives.  King and Kitchener (1994) provide extensive empirical support for their Reflective Judgment Stage Model on controversial scientific issues.

In a similar but separate line of work, Kline has sought to pinpoint specific relationships between meta-cognitive abilities and argument skill. In a series of studies (Kline & Chatani, 2001; Kline, 2006, 2010, Kline & Delia, 1990) Kline has examined high school and college students’ abilities to analyze regulative and persuasive messages. She has found systematic age-related changes in meta-cognitive knowledge about regulative messages. She has also found that advanced message monitoring is positively related to person-centered regulative message strategies. That is, in situations calling for behavioral regulation and persuasion, those who had advanced message monitoring also produced persuasive arguments that legitimated and elaborated upon the message recipient’s feelings and beliefs.

1.2. Hypotheses and research questions
The purpose of this empirical study is to apply King and Kitchener’s (1994) framework to examine the relationship between an arguer’s ability to reflect upon evidence and reasoning (called here reflective reasoning) and the arguer’s ability to engage in particular argument skills. While King and Kitchener’s (1994) focus has been on young adults’ reasoning about scientific problems, the focus here is on analyzing the everyday arguments of young adult friends. Reflective reasoning at higher levels is expected to be linked to arguers’ verbal abilities to reason about opposing points of view, as well as arguers’ verbal abilities to legitimize and individuate opposing points of view.

Past work (Kline & Chatani, 2001; Kline, 2006, 2010) has shown that the ability to monitor one’s message is positively related to person-centered regulative communication, or communication designed to convince others to change their behavior. Given this line of work, it is expected that reflective reasoning will be positively related to person-centered regulative strategies:
H1: Reflective reasoning is positively associated with arguments expressed in  person-centered messages.

The ability to reflect upon the role of evidence and reasoning to justify an arguer’s position should also be related to the use of integrative proposals and reasoning acts, given that reflective reasoning likely creates a capacity for arguers to create unifying lines of reasoning. Reflective reasoning is also likely to shape the appropriate expression of arguers’ emotions, as arguers determine how to best express their standpoints and reasoning to one another. Recognizing, for instance, the need to show one’s interactant how standpoints are similarly constructed may necessitate expressions of interest and positive regard, instead of vehemence or venting. Such reasoning leads to two other hypotheses:

H2: Reflective reasoning is positively associated with integrative reasoning acts.

H3: Reflective reasoning is negatively associated with negative emotions expressed in resolved disputes.

Except for Hample’s work (2005), the everyday arguments of young adults have not been the focus of extensive analysis. So another general aim of the study was to learn the topics and themes that characterize the disputes of young adults. Narratives of disagreements among friends were solicited, including disputes that have been successfully resolved and disputes that remain unresolved:

RQ1: What topics and themes characterize the resolved and unresolved dispute narratives of young adults?

2. Method
2.1. Participants and argument tasks
Participants were 60 undergraduates (14 males, 46 females) enrolled in two communication classes at two Midwestern U.S. universities.  Approximately 15% of the students were Hispanic, African-American or Native American; the other students were Caucasian. In exchange for course credit, participants completed a lengthy written questionnaire about three types of disagreements (see the Appendix for scenario descriptions).

Participants first read a true story about two grandparents and three of the five grandchildren they were raising. The oldest grandson, a college dropout, had expressed negative opinions about grades and work habits that the grandparents didn’t want to adversely influence their younger twin grandsons, who were successes in school and athletics. Participants were asked to write down what the grandparents should say in the situation to their grandchildren. This regulative communication situation was used to measure person-centered regulative communication skill.

Participants were also asked to provide narratives of two disagreements with friends; a disagreement that was successfully resolved and a disagreement that was not successfully resolved (See the Appendix for a fuller description).  Participants indicated the specific arguments and reasoning used to resolve both dispute types. After each scenario, participants were asked specific questions about how they reflected on the best arguments to use in the scenario. These questions employed ideas from King and Kitchener’s Reflective Judgment Interview (1994). After the first scenario, participants were asked how it is possible that communication and parenting experts disagree about how best to handle this type of situation, and given experts’ disagreements, how one determines how best to handle the situation. After the second and third scenarios, participants were asked (a) if it was the case that one point of view was right and the other was wrong, (b) how could we say that one opinion or point of view is in some way better than the other in the situation, and (c) how is it possible (or not) to determine that your final position on the issue would be correct.

2.2. Measures
Four measures were constructed to assess the research hypotheses. A first measure assessed participants’ Reflective Reasoning, and was formed from an analysis of the participants’ reasoning about their interpersonal arguments they used in the two disputes they resolved successfully and unsuccessfully.  Based on King and Kitchener’s (1994) work, responses were analyzed for the extent to which they generally fit the Stages of Reflective Judgment, but the measure was adapted to fit the interpersonal disputes described by the participants.

Employing King and Kitchener’s (1994) stage reasoning, participants’ responses ranged from Stage 3 to Stage 6. Some participants saw points of view as relative and fitted to their feelings in the situation without a clear link between evidence and belief (Stage 3; e.g., “I think I was right, even if Catie is independent it’s just stupid to walk home alone”). Other participants saw their points of view as based upon evidence and reasoning, but in a comparison the best evidence and reasoning fit the participants’ feelings (Stage 4; e.g., “Experts may disagree because different approaches may create different outcomes; I would try to satisfy all the parties”). Some participants recognized that beliefs should be  evaluated with “rules of inquiry for that context and by context-specific interpretations of evidence” (King & Kitchener, 1994, p. 65, Stage 5; e.g., “Generally no one is entirely right or wrong, but when one person’s choices negatively affect the other person so the first person can have what they want, it is ‘wrong.’”), while a few recognized that beliefs are evaluated with criteria such as with “the weight of the evidence, the utility of the solution, and the pragmatic need for action” (p. 69, Stage 6; e.g., “I would probably recommend an integrative approach as researchers seem to agree that direct and constructive ways to dealing with conflict are more likely to work”). Reflective reasoning differed in the extent to which participants talked abstractly about features of evidence and reasoning in relation to the specific context. Reflective reasoning was assessed for participants’ reasoning about best viewpoints in their successful and unsuccessful disputes, and these were averaged to form a measure of reflective reasoning (alpha = .85, M = 4.08, SD = .844).

A second measure focused on the regulative messages produced in response to the regulative communication scenario involving the three grandchildren. The regulative messages the grandparents expressed to the oldest grandson was analyzed for its level of person-centeredness using the nine level regulative message coding hierarchy developed by Applegate (1980) and used by constructivist communication researchers to measure person-centeredness in regulative communication situations. Each regulative message was analyzed for the extent to which it legitimized and elaborated the interactants’ perspectives in reasoning about effective and appropriate conduct in the situation. At the first major level of the coding hierarchy participants denied the legitimacy of the interactants’ perspectives as they discussed the children’s conduct, either with coercion, criticism, threats, or commands, and/or through application of situational directives or rules (e.g., “Max, that is disrespectful behavior…” “You need to respect your boss”).  At the second major level participants implicitly legitimized the interactants’ perspectives by providing simple or multiple consequence reasoning or (e.g., “If you go back to school you can earn a degree where you can be the boss and make the rules”), or non-feeling centered explanations of the context or application of general principles as the basis for appropriate conduct (e.g., “Everyone has a purpose and each person will have a different path”).  At the third major level participants explicitly acknowledged and individuated the recipients’ perspectives (e.g., “Max, the boys look up to you. Why would you say that grades, even in middle school, do not count?”), or elaborated and/or coordinated the interactants’ perspectives in crafting a rational basis for behavior (e.g., “It’s not that your brother is wrong…but grades and achievements DO count. Do you think you would ever be soccer stars if you never touched a soccer ball until you were in high school? The same goes for your grades. You’re learning the information that is necessary to learn the harder stuff in high school. We know you’ll keep doing your best. At this rate you’ll be achieving your dreams like it’s nothing!”). Participants’ messages were analyzed for the highest level attained on the coding hierarchy; these responses ranged from 3 to 9 (M = 6.17, SD = 1.82).

A third measure focused on the integrative reasoning employed by the participants in each of their dispute narratives. Reasoning that explicitly extended or critiqued the reasoning of the other’s standpoint in ways that linked that standpoint to the participant’s standpoint was counted; this measure incorporated what Berkowitz and Gibbs have called transacts (Berkowitz & Gibbs, 1983, 1985). Reasoning that invited a mutual solution or integrative standpoint, showed how a line of reasoning would benefit the other or how the other person’s reasoning linked to their own reasoning were counted. For instance, in one narrative the participant proposed to the other that “he should put himself  in his friend’s shoes to decide whether or not…” while in another narrative, the participant “tried problem solving and told him he could drop [the fliers] off after class.” The number of integrative reasoning acts was summed for each dispute narrative (Ms = 1.83 & 1.20, SDs = 1.15 & 1.27, for resolved & unresolved scenarios, respectively).

The last measure was the number of expressions of negative emotions (e.g., anger, frustration) explicitly stated by each participant in each dispute narrative.  An emotion term was counted if the participant described their own negative emotions or emotional expressions (e.g., “I was extremely frustrated,” “Furious, I explained how upset I was”) or the participant attributed a negative emotion or negative expression to their friend in the situation (e.g., “He became angry,” “she was very hurt,” “she just kept yelling”). The number of negative emotion states and expressions was counted for each narrative (Ms = 1.28 & 1.65, SDs = 1.71 & 1.94, for the resolved and unresolved dispute narratives, respectively).

The coding for each measure was completed separately after multiple readings of the questionnaires. Coding reliabilities for the measures was assessed by having a second coder blind to the study hypotheses independently code 20% of the protocols. The Cohen  kappas were acceptable, with none below .68. Beside these measures, a grounded theory analysis of the participants’ narratives was conducted. The topics and themes that characterized the resolved and unresolved dispute narratives were analyzed, which involved noting the general topic of each narrative and considering how each sentence was relevant to participants’ reasoning activity.  Constant comparative methods and invivo coding were used to form categories and their properties, following grounded theory procedures (Charmaz, 2006; Corbin & Strauss, 2008).

3. Results
Tests of the hypotheses are presented first, followed by the grounded theory analysis of the dispute narratives. The hypotheses were assessed with correlation and regression methods.

3.1. Hypothesis tests
Table 1 presents the Pearson correlations of the variables. The first hypothesis, that reflective reasoning is positively related to person-centered messages, was supported, for reflective reasoning was positively correlated with person-centered regulative strategies at the p < .05 level. The second hypothesis, that reflective reasoning is positively related to integrating reasoning acts, was nearly supported, as reflective reasoning was correlated with integrative reasoning acts at the p < .10 level. Finally, the third hypothesis, that reflective reasoning is significantly related to negatively expressed emotions, was weakly supported in the expected directions. Reflective reasoning was negatively related to negative expressed emotions in resolved disputes at the p < .10 level, but positively related to negatively expressed emotions in unresolved disputes (at the p < .05 level). These hypothesized relationships turned out to be weak in magnitude, except for the relationship between reflective reasoning and person-centered regulative strategies, which was moderate-sized.

A simple multiple regression was then conducted to determine how person-centered message strategies, integrative reasoning acts, and negatively expressed emotions collectively accounted for variation in reflective reasoning. Each predictor variable was mean-centered prior to entry into the regression. The analysis was statistically significant, F (5, 54) = 5.153, p < .01, and accounted for 26% of the variance in reflective reasoning (R = .57). Integrative reasoning on unresolved disputes (b = .21, p < .08), person-centered message strategy (b = .35, p < .01), and negative emotions in the resolved and unresolved disputes (bs = -.28 & .21, ps < .05) were all significant (or near significant) predictors of reflective reasoning. Person-centered message strategy uniquely accounted for 12% of the variance in reflective reasoning, while negative emotions in resolved and unresolved disputes each uniquely accounted for 8% of the variance in reflective reasoning (semi-partial rs were .34, -.28, and .28, respectively; integrative reasoning accounted for 4% of the variance in reflective reasoning). Advanced reflective reasoning, then, was predicted by the ability to express arguments in person-centered messages, express negative emotions in unresolved disputes, and not express negative emotions in resolved disputes.

3.2. Grounded theory analysis
Dispute topics. The narratives were first analyzed for the topics covered, followed by the themes that characterized the participants’ felt meaning and significance of the disputes. Resolved disputes focused on seven topics.  Nearly two-thirds of the disputes were over disagreements regarding spending time or contact with one’s friend (24%), living together with roommates (21%), or lifestyle and health choices (18%). Another 36% of the resolved disputes were about money and financial responsibilities (12%), dating issues (12%), specific topics (6%) and scheduling issues (6%). Unresolved disputes focused on seven topics. Half the unresolved disputes were over disagreements about dating or impressions of the friend’s girl or boyfriend (25%) or over changes in spending time or contact with one’s friend (25%). Another 30% of the unresolved disputes were over specific issues, such as whether women should be able to get an abortion (15%), and issues over living together, such as TV watching etiquette (15%).  The remaining unresolved disputes were over abusing alcohol or safety issues, such as texting while driving (9%), deception (6%), and general issues, such as jealousy or a mean interaction style (6%).  A series of McNemar Chi square tests showed no significant differences between the resolved and unresolved dispute topics.

Resolved dispute themes.  Five themes characterized the narratives of participants who had successfully resolved their disputes with friends. Several participants (39%) reported that a key feature in resolving their disputes successfully was the role of understanding and listening. Participants considered it a success when they had constituted a mutual state of understanding and respect. As one participant put it, “We still felt we were right…but at the same time, we understood both sides so we put it behind us. Because we were able to openly communicate about our feelings for the situation and actually listen to and reason with the other person’s situation, it made for an understanding and eased the situation” (#16). Another participant described a protracted disagreement with her girlfriend over spending more time with a new boyfriend instead of her friends: “Eventually we were both able to understand each other’s point of view, even though we both still believed in our own. Because we could understand and respect each other’s opinions however, we were able to start hanging out more often while she still understood that I would be still be spending time with my boyfriend. We never changed our opinions, we just were/are able to respect each other’s opinions and change our behaviors accordingly” (#30).

Participants also used the term, “understanding”, in instances when the disagreement was due to a misunderstanding of each other’s viewpoints: “By talking about the conflict we had due to a misunderstanding, we were able to correctly know what the other meant” (#13). Other participants used the terms “listening”, “trust” or “respect”: “I have the ability to listen to other opinions and arguments to make my decisions” (#31).

A second theme involved participants or their friends giving specific integrative proposals to resolve the dispute (30%). Integrative proposals displayed types of integrative reasoning, compromise or appeasement. For instance, roommates with conflicting band preferences decided to play other music in their home. Roommates with unwashed dishes in the sink resolved their dispute with one participant proposing that “everyone should clean their dishes that same day, but they have the end of the night to do it” (#25). A dating couple with money disagreements decided to “set aside a certain amount of money each pay before doing anything individually” (#33). A friend with tattoo plans moved the location of her tattoo after hearing her friend’s arguments.

Some of these practical solutions required face-saving efforts by one friend to enable the other friend to feel satisfied. For instance, one participant with a friend jealous of her time spent with other friends, resolved the dispute by reassuring her friend of her closeness. In another instance, a participant propelled her female friend to not walk home alone on her terms: “After I said she was being a brat and rude to Andy she finally let him walk with her but made clear to him that she didn’t need anyone to walk her home that they were just going in the same direction” (#18).

A third theme involved participants using skillful reasoning or communication practices. Participants (23%) cited that the way they reasoned with their friend actively shaped the dispute resolution. For some, a “logical manner” meant also speaking in ways to preserve face and relational harmony: “I insisted on presenting the situation to her in a logical manner. Because my intention was not to prove her wrong but to maintain our relationship, I found myself being very careful with words, and also putting myself in her shoes…it worked great” (#04). Other participants recognized that being able to communicate with arguments meant that you were persuasive: “I still don’t know how I was talked into it but we ended up living with the girls. I think Miriam was a really strong communicator with her argument and stronger than me so her point of view won.” She was also very positive with the subject by constantly reassuring me that this would be a good thing so I eventually agreed” (#27). Another participant staged a campaign to convince a friend to attend a musical festival the last week of classes: “I thought my point of view was better and so I spun it into his head for a month and got him to realize it” (#28).

A fourth theme that occurred in the resolved disputes was that for some participants (21%) resolving the dispute took time. The initial exchange of standpoints often was accompanied by feelings of upset, anger, frustration, after which the participants often did not speak for a time. One participant wrote about a girlfriend becoming jealous about her hanging out with others; an intense exchange led to their not speaking for three months before reconciling. Other participants noted that helping the other change his/her mind just required time. One participant focused on helping another see that his life choices needed reconsideration: “He needed to go through the belly of the best first until he could understand where I was coming from” (#12). In another instance, a participant had a disagreement with her friend who was hanging with a person who the participant believed “was not good for the goals that Marisa wanted to accomplish.” The participant then wrote, “I also felt that Marisa would eventually see that, so I distanced myself.”…”It took Marisa 1 year…she then came to see my opinion” (#15).

A final theme of the resolved disputes was that sometimes participants considered the dispute resolved, but that their original viewpoints were maintained (18%).  The friendship was maintained, but so were the original viewpoints.  For instance, one participant wrote about socializing with a friend who spent the evening texting while ignoring his two male friends. Despite the disagreement he noted that, “I don’t really think we changed anyone’s view” (#24).

Unresolved dispute themes. Three themes characterized the unresolved dispute narratives: attributed inabilities and motivations for not resolving the dispute, the role of insult, attack, and hurtful messages, and the engagement of minimal argumentation.

Of the participants, 45% indicated that their disputes remained unresolved because of various inabilities of their friend or themselves to resolve the dispute. Participants wrote that their disagreements remained due to their stubbornness (“We were both stubborn”), jealousy (“My family hates that I am successful”), emotional involvement (“She was too absorbed in the situation to see clearly”), or close-mindedness (“My grandma was so close-minded, she would not listen”). Participants also cited the inability to be honest (“Due to his inability to be honest and straightforward with us we could not keep I him in the band”), or the ability to make credible arguments (I came at him with statistics…while he usually supported his arguments with “because I say so”). Some participants (15%) cited some type of argument or conflict management skill as a factor in their inability to resolve the dispute.

Other participants (45%) indicated that insults, hurtful messages, emotional upset and/or anger played an important role in their unresolved disputes.  For instance, one participant wrote:  “She called me stupid for staying with him and said nothing good will come of our relationship. Her insults to my boyfriend, then to me, were very hurtful and I ended up ending our friendship” (#14).  Another participant repeatedly described how she was upset by her friend ignoring her, and that “he didn’t know why I was so upset he was hanging out again with Drew (another friend), and that I should be happy that he is happy” (#18). Participants commented that sometimes they were too upset or their friend was too absorbed to gain a broader perspective on the situation.

A third theme that characterized narratives of unresolved disputes was that the dispute became intractable because the participants could not discover a way to transcend their opposing standpoints. One third of the participants (36%) described that the differing perspectives that characterized the disagreement produced an inability to discover integrating moves. Disagreements remained intractable because of differing priorities or different perceptions on issues like safety (e.g., “It was really hard for us to settle this conflict because she is used to driving home under the influence and she felt like I had no right to take her keys,” #08). In other instances, the disagreement was over one friend disliking another friend’s boyfriend; the other friend was “blinded by love” or too absorbed” to see the situation the way the participant saw the situation. Importantly, in several instances, the participant believed that the friend’s boyfriend was violent or sexually manipulative but that the dispute remained unresolved because the participant could not convince the friend to leave the boyfriend. These participants typically indicated a recycling of initial standpoints. For instance, one participant wrote: “We weren’t able to resolve it because we weren’t on the same page. I was looking out for her best interests and she was looking for the satisfaction she got from that relationship in the moment” (#17).      Other participants (18%) indicated that they couldn’t find a workable consensus (e.g., “The conflict was only temporarily fixed,” #16) or that initial similar viewpoints had shifted (e.g., “I decided I didn’t need a friend who I couldn’t count on to be there for me when I needed her,” #20). A few participants (9%) indicated that the disagreement was rooted in ideological or religious differences that prevented a resolution (e.g., “For her religion was the base for her argument which made it nearly impossible to change her mind… there was no middle ground,” #01). Some participants (18%) invoked Biblical, religious or spiritual perspectives to ground their standpoints.  For instance, while one participant recognized that she had no response for her friends’ counterarguments, she nevertheless disagreed, saying that she had faith that God would take care of situations in which a woman’s life is in danger” (#09). Others relied upon religious principles like the Golden Rule to tell them how to manage the dispute. For instance, one participant wrote that she “personally judges everything I do and say by the Bible. If something goes against the Bible or my faith it is wrong.” This led her to seek solutions that would resolve the problem “peacefully” (#22).

4. Discussion
This analysis tested the general hypothesis that reflective reasoning is positively associated with argument skill. As predicted, reflective reasoning was positively associated with the use of arguments expressed in person-centered messages. That reflective reasoning was associated with person-centered regulative message strategies is consistent with previous research that used different measures of reflective reasoning (Kline & Chatani, 2001; Kline, 2006, 2010). However, that reflective reasoning was only weakly associated with integrative reasoning acts suggests that the differentiation of context, evidence, and reasoning that typifies advanced reflective reasoning practices may not be needed in proposing integrative ideas for settling disagreements among friends. Finally, and as expected, reflective reasoning was negatively associated with negative emotions in resolved dispute narratives, but positively associated with negative emotion expression in unresolved dispute narratives. While these relationships were also weak in magnitude, both measures of negative expressed emotions were predictors of reflective reasoning in the regression analyses, suggesting that reflective reasoning is related to the expression of negative emotions in interpersonal disputes. Future research could focus on unpacking the relationship between the emotional experience of argumentation and reflective reasoning abilities.

Taken together, the findings on the relationship of reflective reasoning to person-centered message strategies and integrating reasoning acts are significant, for interpersonal conflict and persuasion researchers have typically not used insights about proof, evidence, and argument in their studies, focusing instead on understanding individuals’ conflict styles and tactics, behavioral patterns in conflict, or the use of persuasive strategies. However, these findings suggest that understanding interpersonal disputes might profit by understanding how actors conceptualize the role of proof, evidence, and reasoning, and how reflective reasoning is associated with the way individuals go about managing their everyday disputes. Understanding what counts as the best proof and evidence to use may provide a basis for arguers to craft more individuated or person-centered arguments and to express fewer negative emotions in their disputes.

These hypotheses about reflective reasoning and argument skill need to be tested with larger samples, and use more refined tasks and measures to assess reflective reasoning and argument skill. Argument scholars have not really settled on a conception of the cognitive and meta-cognitive abilities that are embedded in argument skill; this work could propel the creation of tasks for measuring these abilities. While the measure of reflective reasoning used in this study was adapted from King and Kitchener’s (1994) work on reflective judgment, a task and measure of  reflective reasoning could be developed that would be easier to administer. In addition, argument skill could be assessed with dyadic interactional tasks as well as through oral interviews. Despite the field’s history of training debaters, designing interventions for teaching everyday argument skills remains to be achieved. Developing conceptions of argument skill would begin to correct these deficiencies in the existing literature on argument pedagogy.

Argument scholarship has also tended to focus on argument practices in public and political contexts, ignoring the role of everyday argument and deliberation in the lives of neighbors, friends, group, and family members. The grounded theory analysis presented here of dispute narratives produces an exploratory set of insights about everyday argument that could stimulate future work. Five themes characterized the successful resolution of disputes: the role of understanding and listening to the other’s viewpoint, use of integrative proposals, skillful reasoning, taking time to reach a consensus, and sometimes agreeing to disagree. Three of these themes point to key argument skills, communication skills in listening and securing understanding, reasoning, and inventing integrative proposals, each of which may have distinct determinants.

Perhaps the most intriguing theme that surfaced in the analysis of the resolved disputes was that several participants regarded their disputes as resolved when they had reached an understanding with the other person even though their opinions remained opposed. Some said they “agreed to disagree” because they prioritized their friendship. For these participants everyday argument was inextricably bound with whether the dispute had resulted in an interpersonal conflict that had implications for their friendship.

This theme points to a conceptual problem that may play an important role in everyday interpersonal argument. Some years ago O’Keefe and Shepherd (1987; O’Keefe & Delia, 1982) analyzed the arguments of young adults and showed that an argumentative situation is characterized by at least two goal relevant choices; whether to acknowledge that arguers are in conflict with each other, and whether to advance their own position. Both choices are important in everyday argument, as the first represents the degree of interpersonal conflict, while the second represents the way in which one can integrate one’s own position with the other’s wants. Both choices reflect the resolved dispute theme of agreeing to disagree; that is, resolving to remove the conflict while not resolving the opinion opposition. The findings suggest that future work could advance argument studies by examining the structural relationship between these two types of choices. What, exactly, is the structural relationship between issue opposition and relational opposition? How can reasoning moves address both of these states or goals?

Three themes characterized the narratives of friends regarding their unresolved disputes: the role of anger, emotional upset and hurtful messages, the inability of arguers to transcend opposing viewpoints, and the inability to come up with integrative proposals or reasoning to move beyond seemingly intractable opposition. Participants recognized that communication or argument skills as well as motivations like jealousy or stubbornness sometimes prevented them from resolving their disputes with friends. In addition, they acknowledged the role of emotional upset, anger or hurtful responses in stalling dispute resolution. Managing one’s own emotional response and learning how to handle others’ hurtful responses may be communication skills that should be studied in relation to argument skill.

Finally, participants recognized their inability to invent integrative proposals or reasoning in disputes that contained seemingly irreconcilable viewpoints. Different values, shifting views, different priorities, and different perspectives were all named as reasons why friends could not transcend their differences. Personal motivations often trumped the often acknowledged superiority of logical force, and participants sometimes acknowledged their inability to be convincing with their friend. Unfortunately, nearly 20% of the unresolved dispute narratives concerned a friend’s inability to convince their friend to change unsafe behaviors or to leave a violent or manipulative boyfriend.

This last theme highlights two areas for future research. First, young adults’ arguments often focused on issues surrounding dating and lifestyle issues, issues that can seriously affect their well-being. Argument scholars could contribute to the general community by determining best argument practices for helping young adults talk persuasively to each other about dating and health issues. Second, argument scholars could focus on identifying the strategies that help others accept positions that they already recognize as having logical force. For instance, are there particular argument practices that may help others change their views?

In sum, the findings presented here provide evidence that the ability to reflect upon the adequacy of evidence and reasoning to justify one’s beliefs is positively related to the use of person-centered regulative message strategies. Argument pedagogy may profit from using findings such as these to enhance young adults’ everyday argument skills.

REFERENCES
Applegate, J. L. (1980).  Person- and position-centered communication in a day-care center. In N. K. Denzin (Ed.), Studies in Symbolic Interaction (Vol. 3, pp. 59-66). Greenwich, CT: JAI Press.
Berkowitz, M., & Gibbs, J. C. (1983). Measuring the developmental features of moral discussions. Merrill-Palmer Quarterly, 29, 399-410.
Berkowitz, M., & Gibbs, J. C. (1985). The process of moral conflict resolution and moral development. New Directions for Child Development, 29, 71-83.
Burleson, B. R. (2007). Constructivism:  A general theory of communication skill. In B. B.  Whaley & W. Samter (Eds.), Explaining Communication:  Contemporary Theories  and Exemplars (pp. 105-128). Mahwah, NJ: Erlbaum.
Burleson, B. R., & Caplan, S E. (1998).  Cognitive complexity. In J. C. McCroskey, J. A. Daly, & M. M. Martin (Eds.), Communication and Personality: Trait Perspectives (pp. 230-286). Creskill, NJ:  Hampton.
Charmaz, K. (2006). Constructing Grounded Theory: A practical Guide through Qualitative Analysis. Los Angeles, CA: Sage Publications.
Corbin, J., & Strauss, A. (2008). Basics of Qualitative research: Techniques and Procedures for developing Grounded Theory 3e. Los Angeles, CA: Sage Publications.
Hample, D. (2005). Arguing: Exchanging Reasons Face to Face. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates.
King, P.M., & Kitchener, K.S. (1994). Developing Reflective Judgment: Understanding and promoting Intellectual Growth and Critical Thinking in Adolescents and Adults. San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass Publishers.
Kitchener, K.S., King, P.M., & DeLuca, S. (2006). Development of reflective judgment in adulthood. In C. Hoare (Ed.), Handbook of Adult Development and Learning (pp. 73-98). Oxford, UK: Oxford Univ. Press.
Kline, S. L., & Chatani, K. (2001). Social perception and message awareness as correlates of person-centered regulative messages. Communication Research Reports, 18, 274-284.
Kline, S. L. (2006). Deliberating about behavior change: The role of message monitoring in person-centered regulative messages. In P. Riley (Ed.), Engaging Argument:Proceedings of the Alta Argumentation Conference (pp. 578-588). Washington, DC: NCA publications.
Kline, S. L. (2010). Creating discursive space to consider incongruous perspectives: The role of dialogical mechanisms in argument. In D. S. Gouran (Ed.), The Functions of Argument and Social Context: Proceedings of the Alta Argumentation Conference   (pp. 250-258). Washington, DC: NCA publications.
Kline, S.L. & Delia, J.G. (1990).  Reasoning about communication and communicative skill. In B.F. Jones and L. Idols (Eds.), Dimensions of Thinking and Cognitive Instruction, Vol 1 (pp 177-207). Hillsdale, NJ:  Lawrence Erlbaum.
Kuhn, D. (1991). The Skills of Argument. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge Univ.Press.
Kuhn, D. (2005). Education for Thinking. Cambridge, MA: Harvard Univ.Press.
Kuhn, D., Goh, W., Iordanou, K., & Shaenfield, D. (2008). Arguing on the computer: A microgenetic study of developing argument skills in a computer-supported environment. Child Development, 79(5), 1310-1328.
Kuhn, D., & Udell, W. (2003). The development of argument skills. Child Development, 74, 1245-1260.
O’Keefe, B. J., & Delia, J. G. (1982).  Impression formation and message production.  In M. E. Roloff & C. R. Berger (Eds.), Social Cognition and Communication (pp. 33-72). Beverly Hills, CA: Sage Publications.
O’Keefe, B.J., & Shepherd, G.J. (1987). The pursuit of multiple objectives in face-to-face persuasive interactions: Effects of construct differentiation on message organization. Communication Monographs, 54, 396-419.
Taylor, T. T. (1992). Mutual Misunderstanding: Skepticism and the theorizing of Language and Interpretation. Durham, NC:  Duke Univ. Press.
Van Eemeren, F. H., & Grootendorst, R. (2004). A Systematic Theory of Argumentation: The Pragma-dialectical Approach. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge Univ.Press.
Walton, D. N. (1989). Informal Logic: A Handbook for Critical Argumentation. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge Univ. Press.

Appendix
Regulative Message Scenario
This is a true story. Sam and Evan are seventh grade identical twins, who are motivated, intelligent, handsome, and star athletes in hockey, baseball, and soccer. They are being raised by their grandparents, their parents having passed away when the twins were four years old. They love and look up to their older brother, Max, who dropped out of OSU earlier this year with a lack of focus and poor grades. Last week Max dropped by the family home, and while with the family, listened as the twins discussed their recent achievements at school. “Haven’t they learned yet that middle school grades don’t count?” Max proclaimed with a laugh. Later in the conversation, Max told them about his part time job at a local computer store, a job he’s wanted for a long time. He commented that he gets a 15 minute break, but on a recent one, his boss entered the break room and requested that everyone return to their checkout positions to handle the long lines that had formed. Max commented to the family that he looked at his watch, determined that he had 5 more minutes to his break and stayed behind, to make sure he got his full break. Having heard Max’s comments, his grandparents became concerned about Max’s influence on his little brothers.

Please write down what you think Max’s grandparents should say to the entire family at that moment. Write down the actual words you think they should say, just as though they were engaged in conversation.

Resolved Dispute Narrative
Now I would like for you to think of a good friend that you have, and to a time in which you had an honest disagreement with your friend about an issue. You and your friend had different points of view about a subject or issue. Yet you and your friend were able to resolve this difference of opinion with communication, reasoning and argument. Can you tell me about this instance? You can write your account like a story if you want – what I’m interested in is learning what the different points of view were, and exactly how you went about resolving the difference of opinion. What specific arguments or reasoning were used to resolve the difference of opinion? What did you say? What did your friend say? Did you or your friend change his/her view to resolve this difference of opinion?

Unresolved Dispute Narrative
Finally, I would like for you to think of a good friend that you have, and to a time in which you had an honest disagreement with your friend about an issue. You and your friend had different points of view about a subject or issue. But this time you and your friend were NOT able to resolve this difference of opinion with communication, reasoning and/or argument. Can you tell me about this instance? You can write your account like a story if you want – what I’m interested in is learning the different points of view, and what specific arguments or reasoning were used to try to resolve the difference of opinion? What did you say? What did your friend say?  Why do you think you were not able to resolve the difference of opinion?