1. Introduction
I submit that appeals to shame, here defined as a concern for reputation, may be not only relevant to but make possible argumentation with reluctant addressees. Traditionally emotional appeals including shame appeals have been classified as fallacies because they are failures of relevance (Govier 2005, p. 198; van Eemeren and Grootendorst 1992, p. 134); we ought to believe or act based on the merits of a case rather than because we feel shame or some other emotion. However, Walton (1992, 2000) among others has argued that emotional appeals are not inherently fallacious, that they may also be strong or weak arguments, and that critics ought to evaluate them based on the inferential structure of the practical reasoning they involve as well as on the type of dialogue in which they occur.
In what follows I aim to build on Walton’s insights that critics ought to attend to the practical reasoning involved in and the context of emotional appeals. Specifically, I argue, first, that to analyze and evaluate emotional appeals critics ought to attend to the discourse strategies that arguers actually use rather than relying on reconstructions alone. Second, I argue that to analyze and evaluate emotional appeals critics ought to consider context more broadly than the type of dialogue. Doing so enables critics to assess proportion in emotional appeals as well as the practical reasons they create, and to better understand complex argumentation such as political discourse.

2. Attending to actual discourse strategies
When analyzing and evaluating emotional appeals, critics ought to attend to the discourse strategies arguers actually use rather than relying on reconstructions only for two main reasons. First, examining the strategies arguers actually use enables critics to assess the proportion (Brinton 1988a, 1988b, 1994) or intensity of the emotional appeal. This is necessary because ordinary arguers make judgments about whether the emotional intensity “fits” the contours of the argumentation, the subject matter, and the occasion. More is at stake here than social norms. An appeal that attempts to make an act seem to be more shameful than it is, or an appeal of overwhelming intensity may shut down dialogue. It is a fallible sign that the arguer may not understand the nature of the occasion, subject matter, or addressees’ interests. The lack of propriety thus creates a reason for addressees to conclude that the argument does not deserve serious consideration. Because, other things being equal, addressees may risk little in ignoring such an argument, lack of propriety may foreclose the possibility of dialogue.
How is it possible to evaluate the proportion of emotional appeals? Brinton has proposed that “[p]erfectly appropriate rhetorical embellishment would reconstruct the situation for us in such a way that we experience it in exactly the same way we would experience it as first-hand observers” (1994, p. 40). In this way amplification may “somehow actually help to provide grounding, or count among reasons for misericordia” or other emotions (1994, pp. 39, 40). Ethical considerations enter as Brinton, following Aristotle, suggests that how one is affected is a sign of one’s virtue; if one’s feelings hit the mean, then one has an appropriate level of virtue (1994, pp. 36-37; 1988a, p. 78; 1988b, pp. 209-11). This kind of judgment can ground a critic’s assessment of the appropriateness of an emotional appeal.

This method of analysis and evaluation would work in cases where the “rhetorical embellishment” is designed to make addressees virtual spectators of some circumstances, event, character, and the like. However, most techniques of rhetorical amplification are not best understood as being designed to recreate the situation in a way that enables addressees to experience it as if they were first-hand observers. Any number of techniques may serve to amplify and argue: allusion, antithesis, repetition, and exclamation are a few examples. Therefore, it is necessary to use a method of analysis and evaluation that may incorporate the full presentational design of the emotional appeal.
A second reason for examining the discourse strategies arguers actually use is that doing so enables critics to provide a fuller explanation of why an appeal may be compelling or not in a given situation. Presumably arguers could design a message in such a way that a reconstruction is redundant because it matches the actual message design. But most of the time reconstructions do not match message design. As Jacobs (2000) has put it, a reconstruction “is what could have been said, but wasn’t. The puzzle is, why wasn’t it said that way in the first place” (p. 265). In addition, a traditional analysis tends to focus almost exclusively on intellectual force alone. If the support for each premise is acceptable, relevant, and sufficient, and if the argument addresses critical questions, then it may be judged as a reasonable argument. This kind of analysis and evaluation explains why an argument ought to be intellectually compelling in the mind of a single individual. But intellectual force alone is not always sufficient for belief or action. A theory of argumentation ought to be able to explain pragmatic force – how all discourse strategies in argumentation may work to reasonably pressure addressees to do something (Manolescu 2005a, 2005b).

3. Attending to formal propriety
The main reason why it is necessary to extend consideration of context beyond the type of dialogue is that much complex discourse does not fit squarely into any single type of dialogue. Political discourse may be the most conspicuous example.
To analyze and evaluate emotional appeals in context, critics ought to consider the formal propriety of the appeal (Manolescu 2004). Formal propriety is a fit among the appeal, argumentation, and occasion based on audience expectations. There are five kinds of form (Burke 1968). Most recognizable to students of argumentation is syllogistic form, where one or more premises may induce an expectation for a particular conclusion. Based on what has come before in the argument, addressees may see that a conclusion is fitting or not. If an arguer states the premises “Women are citizens and citizens have the right to vote,” then the message is designed in a way that enables addressees to anticipate that the additional premise “Women ought to have the right to vote” may or will be asserted. Thus syllogistic form incorporates inferential structures but considers how they are manifested in the actual presentational design of the message. Another kind of form recognizable to students of argumentation is conventional form. Here addressees note whether argumentation meets expectations generated by the conventions of, say, an institution and its procedural rules. There are different conventional expectations for critical discussions and negotiations. Courts of law and parliaments permit and prohibit different kinds of arguments. An argument may meet the standard of formal propriety if it fulfills conventional expectations.
There are three additional kinds of form that may be less familiar to students of argumentation but that help critics to evaluate emotional appeals and other kinds of discourse strategies that may be left out of more traditional reconstructions.
First, qualitative form involves a judgment about whether one quality fits with another. We can imagine solemn occasions where any kind of humor would be inappropriate; the quality of humor on a particular occasion does not fit with the quality of solemnity. This kind of judgment is relevant to evaluating the proportion of emotional appeals.
Second, repetitive form – repetition of the same principle in different guises – involves judgment about consistency. For an appeal to exhibit formal propriety, addressees recognize a fit among premises within the argument more broadly – an absence of inconsistencies – whether this broader argument is conceived as the arguer’s entire case on a particular occasion or her case developed on a number of occasions or a case developed by numerous people on numerous occasions.
Third, minor or incidental forms are parts of an argument that are formal events in themselves; any single argument for example may be isolated from the argument as a whole and analyzed as a separate episode. The same is true for other kinds of strategies such as digressions or descriptions.

4. Case study
Carrie Chapman Catt’s 1917 “Address to the United States Congress” is a good case study for illustrating how formal propriety can be used to analyze and evaluate shame appeals in argumentation. Catt uses shame appeals throughout the address to pressure members of Congress to vote for woman suffrage, and Catt was well known for devising other kinds of tactics designed to pressure members of Congress (Campbell 1989).
Catt first orally delivered the address to participants in the 1917 National American Woman Suffrage Association convention. In the speech she directly addressed members of Congress who of course were not present. But afterwards a pamphlet version was presented by women on the NAWSA’s Congressional Committee to every member of Congress in person. Certainly Catt intended for the address to pressure Congressmen to vote for woman suffrage–or at least explain why they are voting against it. I have chosen to focus on Catt’s address as an appeal to members of Congress but, as will be discussed below, it is significant that she also delivered it to members of the woman suffrage convention.
The following discussion explains how Catt uses shame appeals to pressure members of Congress to either vote for woman suffrage or argue against it. Pressuring them to argue is an important task because behind-the-scenes lobbying and deal-making involving the liquor interest had been a key factor in women not yet having the right to vote; the liquor interest feared that if women had the right to vote, they would vote for prohibition. After sketching a more traditional analysis I explain how it may be supplemented by considering formal propriety.

The following is an excerpt from a shame appeal designed in part to convince members of Congress to vote for woman suffrage.

Do you suppose that any woman in the land is going to be content with unenfranchisement when she once comprehends that men of other countries have given women the vote? Do you not see that when that time comes to her she is going to ask why you, her husband, her father, who were so placed, perhaps, that you could observe the progress of world affairs, did not see the coming change of custom and save her from the humiliation of having to beg for that which women in other countries are already enjoying? (Catt 1989, p. 526)

A traditional analysis may judge the shame appeal as a fallacy because feeling shame is not a relevant reason for voting for woman suffrage; the vote ought to be based on the merits of the case itself. But, as has been noted (Walton 2000), this kind of judgment seems to involve treating a prudential claim – you ought to do something – as an evidential claim – you ought to believe something. Avoiding shame may be a good, prudential reason to do something. This points to the desirability of considering contextual matters such as the type of dialogue; while a shame appeal may be fallacious in a persuasion dialogue such as a critical discussion, it may be judged as appropriate in a negotiation dialogue where arguers attempt to advance their own interests. Moreover, it points to the need to look at the prudential reasoning that may be involved in the appeal.

One way of reconstructing the inferential structure of the shame appeal is the following based on Walton’s (2000) analysis of fear appeals:
Vote for woman suffrage, or you will feel shame.
Feeling shame is undesirable.
Therefore you ought to prevent shame if possible.
But the only way for you to prevent shame is to vote for woman suffrage.
Therefore you ought to vote for woman suffrage.

The passage quoted above may be understood as support for the initial reconstructed premise: Vote for woman suffrage, or you will feel shame. The passage invokes a potential scenario where a member of Congress may be in the shameful position of having to explain why he did not see what Catt describes as the inevitable – the arrival of woman suffrage – and why he put United States women in the humiliating position of having to beg for what women in other countries already had. This would be particularly shameful since at the time of the address the United States was fighting in the Great War to “make the world safe for democracy.” A more traditional analysis would involve asking whether the support provided by the passage is acceptable, relevant, and sufficient; and asking critical questions such as whether shame may be avoided by some other means. It would also consider the appropriateness of the appeal based on the type of dialogue. One problem with evaluating proportion or propriety based on the type of dialogue is that political discourse may not fit squarely into any single type of dialogue. Still, if the appeal meets these criteria, then a critic might judge it to be a good argument and perhaps assert that it shifts the burden of proof. But how does it do this? How could it pressure even reluctant addressees, such as those who plan to vote against woman suffrage because they want campaign contributions from the liquor interest, to argue?

To answer these kinds of questions, we may use as a guide work by Goodwin (2001, 2002) and Kauffeld (1995, 1998) that has explained the pragmatic reasoning involved in the design of compelling accusations, proposals, appeals to authority, calls to make something an issue, and more; and the conception of formal propriety outlined above. The appeal is part of a longer series of questions near the conclusion of the address that Catt poses to “those who still harbor honest misgivings” (1989, p. 525) about voting for woman suffrage. The appeal does not involve an abrupt change in level of intensity within the address as a whole or within this particular part of the address, and therefore fits the contours of the qualitative form of the address itself. The level of intensity also fits conventional expectations for an address to Congress. This formal propriety is not trivial or irrelevant to the argument. It is a fallible sign that Catt is a serious person who understands politics and how to argue – a significant matter since, as Catt notes in the address, some people think women are illogical and sentimental (1989, p. 523) and therefore ought not to have political rights such as the right to vote.
Formal propriety in this case makes it more difficult for members of Congress to ignore her on the grounds that her views do not deserve serious consideration. To do so may subject them to criticism for not recognizing that her appeal has been made responsibly – a somewhat serious charge given that members of Congress ought to understand the proprieties of addressing each other in the course of political deliberation. In short, among the practical reasons created by the strategy of using emotional appeals that meet the standard of formal propriety is this: Take the argument seriously or you will feel shame. In this way the proportion of the emotional appeal exerts some pressure on Congressmen to argue. Now, the argument manifests other signs that it deserves to be taken seriously: by its analytical design and careful reasoning, it manifests that it was responsibly formed; by anticipating and answering objections, it manifests a willingness to engage opposing views. The point is that formal propriety, coupled with other signs, creates practical reasons for members of Congress to argue; otherwise, they risk looking bad.
Moreover, this is a relevant appeal to shame – not a kind of ad baculum tactic that may not even qualify as an argument (Levi 1999). Catt does not threaten to shame members of Congress by exposing their indiscretions, for example. Instead, the appeal to shame is grounded in norms of argumentation such as taking seriously an argument that manifests signs of understanding the nature of the subject, occasion, and addressees’ interests; other things being equal, addressees who do not engage such argumentation may be vulnerable to criticism. Thus the reason created – take the argument seriously or you will feel shame – is best understood as a reason for at least arguing against if not voting for woman suffrage as opposed to a reason why a member of Congress faced with such an appeal may vote for it.

Another discourse strategy involved in this shame appeal and the argument as a whole is first orally presenting it to members of the NAWSA and then having them personally deliver a pamphlet version of the speech to members of Congress. This strategy is outside the scope of a more traditional analysis because it cannot be reconstructed as a premise presented in the discourse. But it ought not to be abstracted out of the argument because it is an aspect of the actual presentational design and because it is possible to analyze and evaluate its reasonability under the circumstances. To do so, we ask: what practical reasons are created by this strategy?
The strategy helps to foreclose the possibility that members of Congress can in the future excuse their vote against woman suffrage by simply saying, “I didn’t see it coming.” The appeal invokes a shameful quality – not having vision – and forewarns Congressmen about the possibility of being held accountable in the future for their vote. Orally delivering the warning first to women of the NAWSA, and then having them hand-deliver a pamphlet version of the warning to Congressmen shows members of Congress that women know that the Congressmen have been forewarned. So to deny that they saw it coming may mean they did not read her argument – shameful since it manifests signs that it deserves to be seriously considered. Or to deny it may mean they did not believe her even though it turns out that she was right. This may be shameful because it is a sign that a woman can have more vision than a man – a potentially troublesome implication for a member of Congress who advocates against woman suffrage on the grounds of women not being fit for politics. Thus the shame appeal is grounded in a norm of argumentation: holding responsibly-formed positions. Even if the member of Congress could claim to have never before encountered a woman intellectually fit for politics, due to the strategy of first orally presenting the speech to women who then handed the pamphlet version to members of Congress, he could not claim this without risk.

5. Implications
This analysis has attempted to show that to analyze and evaluate shame appeals critics ought to consider the discourse strategies arguers actually use and incorporate different levels of context into the discussion, including the occasion of the argument as well as the argument itself, and arguments on other occasions. The advantages of doing so include that the proportion of appeals to shame and other kinds of emotion may be assessed; another level of analysis may be added, namely the practical reasons created by actual discourse strategies; and complex argumentation such as political discourse may be better explained. Analyzed and evaluated this way, we may conclude that relevant shame appeals may be both presented in discourse and created by discourse strategies.
A pedagogical implication of the discussion is that it is worthwhile to consider real cases of complex argumentation. This may be cumbersome but, at the same time, it may enable students to make their implicit assumptions about norms of argumentation explicit. A theoretical implication of the discussion is that we need not and ought not assume that cooperation is the norm. It is possible to reasonably pressure even reluctant addressees to argue in a way that invokes and reinforces norms of argumentation – by shaming them into argumentation.

REFERENCES
Brinton, A. (1988a). Appeal to the angry emotions. Informal Logic 10(2), 77-87.
Brinton, A. (1988b). Pathos and the “appeal to emotion”: An Aristotelian analysis. History of Philosophy Quarterly 5, 207-19.
Brinton, A. (1994). A plea for argumentum ad misericordiam. Philosophia 23, 25-44.
Burke, K (1968). Counter-Statement. Berkeley: University of California Press.
Campbell, K.K. (1989). Man Cannot Speak For Her (Vol. 1). Westport/London: Praeger.
Catt, C.C. (1989). Address to the United States Congress. In: K.K. Campbell (Ed.), Man Cannot Speak for Her (Vol. 2, pp. 503-32). Westport/London: Praeger.
Eemeren, F.H. van, & R. Grootendorst (1992). Argumentation, Communication, and Fallacies: A Pragma-Dialectical Perspective. Hillsdale, NJ: Erlbaum.
Goodwin, J. (2001). Cicero’s authority. Philosophy and Rhetoric 34, 38-60.
Goodwin, J. (2002). Designing issues. In: F.H. van Eemeren & P. Houtlosser (Eds.), Dialectic and Rhetoric: The Warp and Woof of Argumentation Analysis (pp. 81-96). Dordrecht/Boston: Kluwer Academic Publishers.
Govier, T. (2005). A Practical Study of Argument. 6th ed. Belmont, CA: Wadsworth.
Jacobs, S. (2000). Rhetoric and dialectic from the standpoint of normative pragmatics. Argumentation 14, 261-86.
Kauffeld, F.J. (1995). The persuasive force of argumentation on behalf of proposals. In: F.H. van Eemeren, R. Grootendorst, J.A. Blair & C.A. Willard (Eds.), Proceedings of the Third ISSA Conference on Argumentation (Vol. 2, pp. 79-90). Amsterdam: Sic Sat.
Kauffeld, F.J. (1998). Presumptions and the distribution of argumentative burdens in acts of proposing and accusing. Argumentation 12, 245-66.
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Manolescu, B.I. (2004). Formal propriety as rhetorical norm. Argumentation 18, 113-25.
Manolescu, B.I. (2005a). Norms of forcibleness. In: D. Hitchcock (Ed.), The Uses of Argument: Proceedings of a Conference at McMaster University, 18-21 May 2005 (pp. 336-45). Hamilton: Ontario Society for the Study of Argumentation.
Manolescu. B.I. (2005b). Norms of presentational force. Argumentation and Advocacy 41, 139-51.
Walton, D. (1992). The Place of Emotion in Argument. University Park: Pennsylvania State University Press.
Walton, D. (2000). Scare Tactics: Arguments that Appeal to Fear and Threats. Dordrecht/Boston/London: Kluwer Academic Publishers.

“Do you believe that you could do a better job than President Bush in preventing another 9/11 attack on the United States?”[i] This question, directed toward Senator Kerry by moderator Jim Lehrer, opens the 2004 Presidential Debates in the United States. The issue Lehrer raises seems appropriate and unremarkable, since in the aftermath of 9/11, security had become a dominant concern in American political discourse. The phrasing of the question, however, offers a less obtrusive but perhaps more important measure of the political atmosphere. Lehrer does not focus upon policy or party or ideology but instead asks for a direct comparison between the Senator and his opponent and thus gives priority to the persons who are competing in the debate. Moreover this strong emphasis on the two individuals accurately reflects the tenor of the whole campaign and anticipates the later course of all three debates. These debates center on persons, and in this direct and literal sense, their arguments rest upon ad hominem considerations.
This arrangement of priorities reverses the normal expectations in argumentation studies, where the propositions advocated by the arguer represent the focal concern for evaluation, and the persona of the arguer is, at best, a secondary consideration. To consider the debates from an argumentative perspective, therefore, requires an alteration in perspective and a revision or expansion of existing conceptions of the role of character in argument. And so I need to begin by reviewing some of these conceptions in an effort to open space for my purpose, which is to present a realistic analysis of the debates that maintains contact with traditional interests in argumentation scholarship.

1. Ad hominem, Ethos, and Ethotic Argument
One traditional conception of argumentation (associated with what is called the “standard treatment”) hardens the distinction between arguer and argument to the point that ad hominem appeals are treated categorically as fallacies. From this perspective, rational inquiry requires strict attention to the quality of the argument qua argument, and any reference to the person making the argument constitutes an irrelevant distraction. This position, of course, virtually exiles campaign debates from the domain of rational argument and leads us to view them as exercises in “mere rhetoric,” designed to manipulate opinion with little regard for the substance of the issues and without any relation to normative principles of reasoning. And in fact, the debates are routinely treated in this way by much of the public, by the press, and even by scholars who study them. It is not an accident that the large and diverse scholarly literature on U.S. presidential debates contains very few entries devoted to argumentation.

A more recent approach to ad hominem argument, developed by Douglas Walton (1998, 2000, 2001), Alan Brinton (1985, 1986, 1995), Trudy Govier (1999) and others, offers a more fluid conception of the relationship between arguer and argument than the standard treatment allows. On this view, the character, commitments, and actions of an arguer often are relevant to the assessment of an argument, and hence ad hominem considerations, while they may sometimes be irrelevant, often are legitimate and appropriate resources for rational argumentation. But, while these revisionist positions allow space for assessing the role of persons in arguments, they still maintain a focus on the proposition or stand-point of the advocate rather than on the advocate per se. Brinton, for example, explains that ad hominem argument deals with an arguer, a proposition endorsed by the arguer, and the proposition itself, and a “logically healthy” ad hominem draws a conclusion only about the second element in this sequence. That is, the reasoning proceeds from characteristics of the arguer to a judgment about the propriety or legitimacy of that arguer’s advocacy of the proposition (Brinton 1995, p. 214).
David Zarefsky (2003) productively complicates this view of the relationship between person and argument by demonstrating the potential interaction between two species of ad hominem that normally receive separate treatment. Contemporary theorists divide ad hominem arguments into a number of types, the two most prominent of which are the direct or (the misleadingly named) abusive ad hominem and the circumstantial ad hominem. Direct ad hominem raises doubt about an arguer’s position because of some character flaw (e.g. Jones is a pathological liar, and therefore his testimony is unreliable). Circumstantial ad hominem calls attention to an inconsistency between the arguer’s position and the arguer’s actions (e.g. Mayor Jones has given himself a raise, and therefore he ought not to claim that the budget crisis justifies salary cuts for all city workers), or an inconsistency between the arguer’s position and other commitments that the arguer has made (e.g. Congressman Jones has repeatedly supported the principle of equal rights for all citizens, and so he ought to not support a ban on gay marriage). For the most part, informal logicians have classified arguments as belonging to one or the other of these types and treated them in isolation. Zarefsky, however, uses the U.S. Supreme Court decision in Bush v. Gore (the case that decided the outcome of the 2000 presidential election) to indicate how the two may be linked together.
Zarefsky argues that the majority opinion in Bush v. Gore inconsistently departs from the justices’ prior commitments in four respects, and thus it stands open to circumstantial ad hominem critique. He then adds that the circumstantial inconsistency warrants a direct ad hominem judgment, since a decision so much “at odds with … prior commitments” raises a legitimate question about the basis for the decision and supports the conclusion that it is based on political preferences rather than legal principle (2003, p. 307). In this case, then, Zaraefsky holds that circumstantial considerations provide logical grounds for a charge of direct or abusive ad hominem.
This effort to connect a typology of arguments with the character of arguers nudges the study of ad hominem into territory more familiar to rhetoricians than to informal logicians. The tendency is hardly surprising given Zarefsky’s disciplinary affiliation (note the ad hominem here) and his conviction that “personal character is intrinsic to argument” (2003, p. 307). This view, of course, follows from a long-standing rhetorical interest in ethos (character) as a mode of proof, and Zarefsky’s essay implicitly supports Alan Brinton’s cogent but neglected appeal for argumentation scholars to explore the relationship between the study of ad hominem argument and rhetorical ethos (Brinton, 1985, 1986).

In the remainder of this paper, I intend to pursue what Brinton has recommended and Zarefsky has illustrated by studying ad hominem argument and the uses of ethos in the Bush/Kerry debate. Because I am dealing with a political debate where ethos is the central concern, my study changes and expands some of the interests developed in Zarefsky’s analysis of a judicial argument. First, instead of focusing upon how character enters into the assessment of a particular case, my attention shifts to consider how reference to cases and other matters bear on perception of the general character of the arguers. Secondly, while Zarefsky assesses the way that character flaws detract from an argument, study of campaign debates requires recognition of constructive as well as negative uses of character arguments. This difference encourages, perhaps even necessitates, a direct connection between ad hominem and rhetorical argument, and for this reason, a third modification is necessary. While Zarefsky makes only implicit reference to rhetorical ethos, it plays an explicit and central role in my analysis, though I am going to depart from conventional rhetorical usage in one respect. Following Aristotle’s use of the term ethos, rhetoricians typically label character arguments as “ethical proof.” Unfortunately, the adjective ethical is ambiguous and sometimes confusing or misleading when applied to argumentation. Consequently, I prefer to use the term “ethotic,” a neologism devised by Brinton (1986), and my purpose is to consider how “ethotic argument”, as it is understood and used by rhetoricians, and ad hominem argument, as understood and used by informal logicians, enter into the 2004 presidential debates.

2. Character and Argument in Bush’s Rhetoric
As I noted earlier, Jim Lehrer’s opening question in the first debate suggests the central role of character in the contest between the two candidates. Toward the end of that debate, Lehrer raises the matter directly when he asks President Bush whether he believes that there are “underlying character issues … serious enough to deny Senator Kerry the job as commander in chief of the United States?” (1, p.31). Both Bush’s answer and Kerry’s follow-up comment reveal much about the status of character in the debates and the strategies used to deal with it.

Bush makes a carefully measured response. After complaining that the question is “loaded”, he proceeds to praise Kerry for his “service to our country,” for being “a great Dad,” for his twenty years of service in the Senate, and he also adds, on a lighter note, that he will not hold it “against him that he went to Yale.” But, Bush continues, he is concerned because Kerry “changes positions on the war in Iraq. He changes positions on something as fundamental as what you believe in your core, your heart of hearts, is right in Iraq.” Kerry, Bush maintains, sends mixed messages and that makes it impossible to lead, since it confuses our troops, our allies, and the Iraqi citizens. And, as someone “who knows how this world works,” Bush can testify that “there must be certainty from the U.S. president” (1, p.31).

Kerry’s remarks follow the mood and sequence of Bush’s comments. He first expresses appreciation for Bush’s kind words on personal matters and returns them with his own praise for the President’s family and especially for his wife, a “terrific person” and a “great first lady.” Then Kerry pauses. There are differences between them, Kerry notes, but he is not “going to talk about a difference of character,” since that is not “my job or may business.” On second thought, however, Kerry thinks he should respond to the President’s concluding theme. This has to do with “certainty.” Maybe the issue concerns a “character trait,” or maybe it doesn’t, but Kerry observes that it is possible to “to be certain and be wrong.” He worries that Bush fails to acknowledge what “is on the ground,” to acknowledge “the realities of North Korea or “stem-cell research,” or “global warming.” “Certainty,” Kerry concludes, “sometimes can get you in trouble” (1, pp. 31-32).

In a well known passage of the Rhetoric (1378a5-19), Aristotle identifies three sources for arguments based on character – good moral character (arete), goodwill (eunoia), and good judgment (phronesis). Bush and Kerry both studiously avoid making charges that directly address either of the first two considerations, and they speak about character only after explicitly dismissing concerns about moral integrity and enacting a display of mutual goodwill. They locate their difference not in relation to rectitude or intentions but to the somewhat less morally charged issue of judgment. On that matter, the debaters present symmetrically opposed positions: Bush represents Kerry as wavering, inconsistent, and thus unable to lead effectively. Kerry represents Bush as inflexible, insensitive to changing facts and circumstances, and thus prone to exercise bad judgment. These two ethotic arguments surface repeatedly in the debates and form the most consistent argumentative thread running through them.

As it is fully developed, Bush’s ethotic argument coordinates both constructive and negative aspects – a positive image of the President set against a contrasting, negative assessment of Kerry’s character. The constructive side of this argument appears in Bush’s response to the first question directed toward him. Bush side-steps its specific wording, which asks whether Kerry’s election might increase the chances of a terrorist attack, and predicts that he will win the election because “the American people know that I know how to lead.” He declares that he has made some tough decisions, and while some disagree with him, the people “know where I stand” and “what I believe.” Moreover, he has demonstrated that the way to protect the nation and defeat “the ideology of hate” is “to never waver, to be strong, to use every asset at our disposal, is to stay on the offensive, and at the same time spread liberty.” And he is confident that if “we remain strong and resolute, we will defeat this enemy” (1, pp. 3-4).

An interesting variation on this theme occurs in the second debate. When one of the “town-hall” participants asks about the ill-will that Bush’s Iraq policy has generated in other parts of the world, the President replies by emphasizing his determination to stand firm on principle even in the face of criticism. He knows that that “taking Saddam Hussein out was unpopular.” Nevertheless, he made a decision that he thought “was in the right interests of our security.” Likewise, in making decisions about Israel and about the International Criminal Court in The Hague, he acted on his convictions even though they led him to choices that “people in Europe didn’t like.” And so,” Bush sums up, “what I’m telling you is that sometimes in this world you make unpopular decisions because you think they’re right” (2, p. 10).

The theme of principled consistency returns again in Bush’s concluding remarks in the final debate: “I’m optimistic that we’ll win the war on terror, but I understand it requires firm resolve and clear purpose. We must never waver in the face of the enemy” (3, p. 40). Thus, the President ends the debates where he began – asserting his unwavering commitment to principle and stressing the importance of a steady, resolute Presidential character.
This construction of Bush’s ethos conforms to his already long-established image and to certain aspects of his performance as a debater. However else he is perceived, Bush is not generally regarded as a clever orator or a cunning politician. His language is not ornate or elegant. He does not express complex ideas, make fine-grained distinctions between concepts, or generate elaborate chains of argument. Instead, Bush appears plain-spoken, colloquial, apparently uncomplicated, and even somewhat inarticulate. These are not characteristics that American audiences associate with a master of devious politics – a “Slick Willie” or a “Tricky Dick,” and so Bush’s professions of simple, straight-forward openness and guileless consistency seem to fit his persona.

The negative side of Bush’s argument constructs Kerry as a foil to the President – as irresolute, temporizing, and inconsistent. The contrast is so direct and is repeated so often that it also appears simple and straight-forward, but when examined carefully, a rather sophisticated argumentative pattern emerges. Much like Zarefsky’s critique of Bush v Gore, Bush’s ad hominem reasoning displays sensitivity to the relationship between apparent circumstantial inconsistencies and flaws of character. In Bush’s argument the connection applies not to a judgment about a particular case but to a general assessment of character, and so, consistent with the demands of campaign rhetoric, the focal concern is the representation of character rather than the evaluation of an argument. Nevertheless, as I hope to show, the principle of inference remains the same, and its recognition casts some light on how Bush argues.

“The only [thing] consistent about my opponent’s position,” Bush says in the middle of the first debate, “is that he’s inconsistent” (1, p. 19). The theme is a leitmotif running through Bush’s rhetoric in the debates, and it is applied to most of the issues that he addresses. Its earliest and most prominent manifestation, however, refers to Kerry’s position on Iraq. On that matter, Bush produces a list of circumstantial ad hominem claims: Kerry voted to authorize the use of force, but he now says that it is the wrong war, in the wrong place, at the wrong time. Kerry said that Saddam Hussein was a grave threat, but he now thinks that it was mistake to remove Saddam Hussein from power. Kerry complains that U.S. troops were not adequately equipped, but he voted against the 87 billion dollar appropriation to support the military effort. In fact, Kerry isn’t even consistent in talking about his vote, since he has said that he voted for the appropriation bill before he voted against it.

These circumstantial inconsistencies, Bush implies, are not random or accidental. They represent a basic weakness of judgment and a defect in character. Instead of displaying resolute commitment to principle, Kerry alters his attitudes to suit political convenience. “As his politics change,” Bush asserts, “his positions change” 1, p. 18). More specifically, on the issue of Iraq, Bush claims that his opponent’s stance on the war reflects his interests as a candidate: “You know, for a while he was a strong supporter of getting rid of Saddam Hussein. He saw the wisdom – until the Democratic primary came along and Howard Dean, the anti-war candidate, began to gain on him, and he changed positions. I don’t see how you can lead this country in time of war, in a time of uncertainty, if you change your mind because of politics” (2, pp.2-3). The inference, then, is clear. Kerry’s inconsistencies on policy indicate a serious character flaw – an irresolute tendency to abandon core principles and a corresponding vulnerability to political pressure.
Echoing his original theme about presidential character, Bush repeatedly and emphatically stresses that Kerry’s flaws are incompatible with leadership from the White House. Kerry does not and cannot act as a commander in chief should in time of war. He sends disparaging and mixed messages. Someone who says “wrong war, wrong time, wrong place” cannot function effectively as the leader of the war effort. Someone who keeps changing position confuses and demoralizes the troops, fails to secure help from allies, and undermines efforts to win the support of Iraqi citizens. In short, Kerry is unable to exercise leadership as a wartime president because, unlike Bush, he does not demonstrate the kind of character and judgment needed to do the job.

When the components of this ethotic argument are arranged as I have just summarized them, the argument takes shape as a complex and carefully considered effort to encompass the crucial issue of character. The reasoning, placed in a logical order, follows this sequence of propositions:
(1) In time of war, a president must demonstrate steady, consistent judgment and adhere to core principles without regard for political popularity.
(2) George Bush has demonstrated this kind of judgment.
(3) Therefore, George Bush has shown that he can lead.
(4) But, John Kerry inconsistently shifts his positions on the war.
(5) These inconsistencies result from his willingness to sacrifice core principles for political expediency.
(6) Therefore, his behavior reveals a character flaw that renders Kerry unable to meet a necessary requirement for presidential leadership.
(7) Therefore Kerry cannot lead the country effectively in the war in Iraq or the war against terrorism.

The argument has notable weaknesses, especially in regard to support for premises, but its basic structure seems reasonably solid. The premises are coherently related to one another and offer relevant grounds for conclusions about the character of the candidates. The argument fulfills its comparative purpose by including both constructive and negative phases, and the progression of the negative phase conforms to Zarefsky’s prescription for a well behaved ad hominem, since attacks based on circumstantial inconsistencies support a direct (or “abusive”) judgment about character.
This fully developed ethotic argument is the best example of Bush’s sensitivity to the character issue and his tendency to rely upon ad hominem tactics. But his use of ad hominem appears in other forms throughout the text of the debates, and it is an almost defining characteristic of Bush’s rhetoric that he rarely defends himself without including an attack against his opponent. Moreover, unlike the extended example we have just considered, these other ad hominem arguments are often logically weak or transparently fallacious.
This pattern is well illustrated in an exchange concerning the status of the coalition in Iraq. The argument opens when Kerry criticizes the President for failing to build an adequate international coalition prior to the invasion; in fact, Kerry asserts, the United States went in with only two allies, Australia and Britain. In response, Bush corrects Kerry by noting that Poland was also involved, and he adds that there are now 30 nations “standing side by side with our American troops.” Then, comes a shift to the attack mode: Bush “honors the sacrifices” of our allies, and he doesn’t appreciate “it when [a] candidate for president denigrates the contributions of these brave soldiers. You cannot lead if you do not honor the contributions of those who are with us” (1, p. 15). The ad hominem here is not cogent. It blatantly distorts what Kerry said and uses an emotionally charged expression of indignation to distract from the issue at hand.

In a similar spirit, Bush uses circumstantial ad hominem arguments that are based on weak or equivocal evidence about Kerry’s actions: Thus, Bush maintains that Kerry is not credible about Medicare, because in his twenty-year tenure, the Senator has done nothing to improve it, and while Kerry says he supports progressive environmental policy and medical liability reform, he has failed even to show up and vote on key legislation dealing with those issues. Bush also deploys a number of somewhat better grounded but still dubious ad hominem attacks based on Kerry’s voting record: Kerry declares that we need better intelligence, but in 1993 he voted to cut the intelligence budget by more than seven billion dollars; he claims to oppose partial birth abortions, but he voted against a bill that banned them; and he talks about balancing the budget, but he has voted to increase taxes ninety-eight times and to break the budget cap more than two hundred times.

In respect to the last of these issues, fiscal responsibility, Bush not only attacks Kerry through a circumstantial ad hominem but also by labeling him as a liberal. Kerry is not a credible fiscal conservative, Bush explains, because he is liberal; in fact, the National Journal named Kerry “the most liberal in the United States Senate,” and this was not “because he hasn’t shown up to many meetings. They named him because of his votes” (2, p. 22, p.23). Coupled with references to his voting record, Kerry’s status a ‘liberal” might have some logical bearing on an assessment of his claims about fiscal policy. But Bush also uses this ploy in instances where the “L-word” functions as an entirely irrelevant effort to poison the well. For example, in the third debate, Kerry criticizes Bush because he did not provide twenty-eight billion dollars of the funding he had promised for the No Child Left Behind program. Bush replies: “Only a liberal senator from Massachusetts would say that a forty-nine percent increase in funding for education was not enough” (3, p.28). And in the second debate, Bush offers this dismissive assessment of Kerry’s stance on health care: “He said he’s going to have a novel health care plan. You know what it is? The federal government is going to run it. It’s the largest increase in federal government health care ever. And it fits with his philosophy. That’s why I told you about the award he won from the National Journal. That’s what liberals do. They create government-sponsored health care.” This passage seems remarkable to me and not just because it is such a blatant effort to distract from meaningful debate about an important issue. It also implicitly undermines Bush’s repeated charges about Kerry’s inconsistency. If the only thing consistent about Kerry is his inconsistency, how could Kerry have earned the title of most liberal member of the Senate? Wouldn’t that require a consistently liberal record? And if Kerry was not consistent, how could Bush understand so clearly what “fits with his philosophy” and know with such assurance that the philosophy reveals the true motive behind the policy?

Bush makes significant use of one other type of ad hominem argument, the tu quoque. Against the charge that he made errors and misled the public in making the case for war against Saddam Hussein, Bush repeatedly argues that Kerry (and others) had access to the same information and came to the same conclusion that he did. Bush frequently combines this “you too” response with the circumstantial arguments that he uses to attack Kerry’s consistency. Thus, in the first debate, just at the point that the issue of the President’s credibility becomes explicit, Bush defends himself in these words:

He said I misled on Iraq. I don’t think he was misleading when he called Iraq a grave threat in the fall of 2002.

I don’t think he was misleading when he said that it was right to disarm Iraq in the Spring of 2003. …

The intelligence I looked at was the same intelligence my opponent looked at, the very same intelligence. And when I stood up there and spoke to Congress, I was speaking off the same intelligence he looked at to make his decisions to support the authorization of force (1, pp. 18-19).

Later in that debate, Bush makes the point in somewhat different terms: “You know, we looked at the same intelligence and came to the same conclusion: that Saddam Hussein was a grave threat. And I don’t hold it against him that he said grave threat. I’m not going to go around the country saying he didn’t tell the truth, when he looked at the same intelligence I did” (1, p.37).

This argument, coming from a halting and apparently artless speaker, demonstrates a remarkable bit of verbal legerdemain. Somehow Bush manages to put himself on the same footing as Kerry; the Senator who voted to authorize force has the same responsibility for the decision to go to war as the President who made the case for war. It is true, I suppose, that both “looked at” the same intelligence. But it was the President, not John Kerry or anyone else in the Senate, who gathered, organized, and presented the intelligence. To say that they are equally culpable for mistakes is to argue that the reader who believes errors contained in a document is as responsible for them as the author of the document.

3. Character and Argument in Kerry’s Rhetoric
In response to Bush’s central ethotic argument and his scatter of specific ad hominem attacks, Kerry seems to be forced into a defensive position. He has no retort to the matter or manner of Bush’s convoluted tu quoque argument, and his only response to the well poisoned by the “L word” is to say that labels are unimportant. At times, he does make sharp responses to Bush’s allegations: Against the charge he has done nothing in the Senate to improve Medicare, Kerry cites specific legislation he has sponsored. On the issue of partial birth abortions, he explains that he opposes them in principle but could not vote in favor of a specific bill that precluded exceptions where the life of the mother was threatened. To counter Bush’s ad hominem reference to his voting record on fiscal policy, Kerry devises a rather clever tu quoque in the form of a simile: “Being lectured by the President on fiscal responsibility is a little like Tony Soprano talking to me about law and order” (1, p. 9). But these responses are isolated and are far less notable than Kerry’s defensive remarks about the charge of inconsistent.

On occasion, Kerry considers how Bush’s tactics might connect with a general assessment of his conduct and character. In the town-hall debate, when asked about the perception that he is “wishy-washy,” Kerry says: “The President didn’t find weapons of mass destruction in Iraq, so he’s really turned his campaign into a weapon of mass deception” (2, p. 2). In the third debate, he notes that Bush shifts ground by turning a question about jobs into a speech about education, and he suggests that his opponent’s incorrect account of his record on Medicare fits into a pattern of misleading rhetoric. These strands, however, are never gathered together into a coherent counter-position, and whenever Kerry comes to the verge of a systematic offensive, he drops back into a defensive posture. This tendency displays itself clearly in the following passage:

Now, the president wishes that I had changed my mind. He wants you to believe that because he can’t come here and tell you he’s created new
jobs for America… .

He can’t come here and tell you he’s created health care for Americans… .

He can’t come here and tell you that he’s left no child behind because he he didn’t fund no child left behind. RARE ZIN????

So what does he do? He’s trying to attack me. He wants you to believe that I can’t be president. And he’s trying to make you believe it because
he wants you to think I change my mind.

Well, let me tell you straight up: I’ve never changed my mind about Iraq (2, pp. 2-3).

The direction of thought Kerry’s thought here moves from criticism of his opponent and his motives to self-justification. But consider the impact of a change in order and emphasis so that Kerry begins with positive affirmation of his character and ends with an attack on Bush. And think also about the impact of this alternative arrangement carried out on a larger scale, where the basic point about Bush’s motives was repeated frequently and connected to a broad range of issues. By coordinating his responses in that fashion, Kerry might have found some ground for stabilizing his own image and systematically reversing Bush’s ad hominem attacks. Against Bush’s charge that Kerry’s “rhetoric doesn’t match his record,” Kerry might well have argued that Bush’s rhetoric doesn’t match his record or the image he seeks to project. The President, from this perspective, emerges as a wolf in sheep’s clothing – an extraordinarily skillful politician who disguises partisan motives and opportunistic tactics under the veneer of plain speech and folksy mannerisms.

Kerry, however, fails to order and coordinate his arguments in any fashion that allows him to pivot out of a defensive posture. This problem is especially acute, since unlike Bush, Kerry does not construct a balanced ethotic argument, where an affirmative self-image contrasts with negative critique of the opponent. He does make a few widely separated references to his career in public office and his military record, but these remarks are too isolated and far too infrequent to generate a positive ethos, and for the most part, Kerry’s identity in the debates is negative –  he is not George Bush. And even though President’s record makes him appear an easy target for a negative campaign, Bush’s rhetorical skill is sufficient to manufacture a self-image that can open space for a positive comparison with his opponent and serve as a platform for launching ad hominem attacks. Given the range and density of these attacks, Kerry hardly was able to sustain a coherent position while holding to a defensive position.
Kerry fashions two main lines of ethotic argument against Bush. The first is the direct ad hominem attack that accuses him of exercising bad judgment. The second involves charges of misleading the public and breaking promises. Some aspects of this second argument make direct claims about the inaccuracy of Bush’s public statements, but for the most part, Kerry uses a kind of circumstantial ad hominem: Bush’s actions are not consistent with his commitments – he misleads by failing to do what he promises.

The attack on Bush’s judgment concentrates on Iraq, and Kerry strings together a long list of charges that get spread through the debates: Kerry argues that the President made “a colossal error of judgment” when he diverted attention from Afghanistan and Osama Bin Laden, the “center of the war on terror” and decided to go after Saddam Hussein in Iraq. Bush made a “huge, catastrophic mistake” when he failed to build a global coalition. The President “rushed to war without a plan for peace” and has left the U.S. without a viable exit strategy. He has misjudged and mismanaged the situation, failing to bring in enough troops to do the job, to equip the troops adequately, to seal the Iraqi borders, and to safeguard ammunition dumps and nuclear facilities. He has refused to listen to advice from military advisors, terrorism experts, the State Department, and U.N. officials, and he has given priority to a tax cut for the wealthy over adequate funding for homeland security.
The second major line of ad hominem argument is more difficult to summarize, largely because its elements are somewhat jumbled. The unifying point is that Bush has exhibited bad faith by making misleading statements or by making promises that he did not keep. The misleading statements refer mainly to Iraq, and Kerry ticks them off rather quickly: Bush erroneously claimed that the Iraqis were seeking to obtain nuclear materials, that they possessed weapons of mass destructions, and that the war could “be won on the cheap.” Somewhat better developed are the charges that Bush has not made good on his promises. Many of these concern domestic issues: Bush promised in the 2000 campaign to work as a unifier and encourage bipartisan cooperation, but he has presided over the most bitterly partisan government in recent memory; the President said he would allow importation of drugs from Canada, but he now has blocked it; he has funded the No Child Left Behind Bill at twenty-eight billion dollars below the level that he had promised; and he has not made good his commitment to reform immigration policy. Other charges, however, involve the war in Iraq and circle back to Kerry’s criticism of the President’s judgment. Thus, Kerry complains that Bush broke his word when he failed to create a genuine international coalition, or to go to war as a last resort, or to plan carefully, or to devise an exit strategy.

While Kerry’s points about bad judgment and bad faith might have interacted productively, he tends to dissipate their force by mixing and confusing them. This problem surfaces early in the first debate when Kerry is asked to specify his claims about Bush’s misjudgments, and he replies: “First of all, he [Bush] made the misjudgment of saying to America that he was going to build a true alliance, that he would exhaust the remedies of the United Nations and go through inspections. … He also promised America that he would go to war as a last resort” (1, p. 5). These remarks are not truly responsive to the question, since the “misjudgments” he enumerates are all examples of broken promises, and they indicate a problem in sorting and arranging the components of a key argument. This confusion, and it occurs routinely in Kerry’s remarks, makes it difficult to discern the logical coherence of his position. His two main points seem to bleed into one another without maintaining distinctive shape, pattern, or relationship.

Perfectly disciplined logical order is probably impossible and almost certainly not desirable in a campaign debate. But basic principles of direction and coordination of argument surely must have some relevance. At least, this conclusion seems warranted when we consider the comparison between Bush and Kerry. Bush generates a widely scattered and often fallacious set of ad hominem arguments, but he also develops a well focused and plausibly constructed ethotic argument that centers his attacks and gives them the appearance of coherence. Kerry, however, not only violates the “Zarefsky” rule by failing to link circumstantial ad hominem arguments to direct character attacks, but he does not develop a clear sequence of arguments nor any basic argumentative structure capable of framing or centering his specific allegations. The result is that his attacks manifest themselves as a shotgun attack against the President, a desultory list of complaints, and as a consequence, Kerry’s argumentation sustains its identity only in relation to its target. Little wonder, then, that Kerry, both in the debates and in the campaign, was unable to construct a positive image or mount a sustained, coherent riposte that would have allowed him to get out from under Bush’s ad hominem attacks on his consistency and judgment.

NOTE
[i] All references to the debates are taken from the transcripts found at the website for the Commission on Presidential Debates, http://www.debates.org. In the text of the paper, I cite references by indicating the number of the debate in the sequence of three (i.e. 1 for the first debate, 2 for the second debate, and 3 for the last debate) and then citing the page number based on the printer friendly version of the print-out. The quotation cited here is on the second page of the first debate, and hence the citation is: 1, p.2.

REFERENCES
Brinton, A. (1985). A rhetorical view of the ad hominem. Australaisian Review of Philosophy. 63, 50-63.
Brinton, A. (1986). Ethotic argument. History of Philosophy Quarterly. 3, 245-58.
Brinton, A. (1995). The ad hominem. In H.V. Hansen and R.C. Pinto (Eds.), Fallacies: Classical and Contemporary Readings (pp. 197-212, Ch. 14), Pennsylvania State Univ. Press, University Park.
Govier, T. (1999). Political speech, Oliver Sachs, and the credibility concern. In J. Hoagland (Ed.), The Philosophy of Argument (pp. 13-24, Ch. 2), Newport News, Vale.
Walton, D. (1998). Ad Hominem Arguments. Tuscaloosa: Univ. of Alabama Press.
Walton, D. (2000). Use of ad hominem argument in political discourse: The Battalino Case from the impeachment trial of President Clinton. Argumentation and Advocacy. 36., 179-195.
Walton, D. (2001). Searching for the roots of the circumstantial ad hominem. Argumentation, 15, 207-221.
Zarefsky, D. (2003). Felicity conditions for the circumstantial ad hominem. In F. H. van Eemeren, et. al. (Eds.), Anyone who has a View: Theoretical Contributions to the Study of Argumentation (pp. 297-308, Ch. 23), Dordrecht, Kluwer.

1. Introduction
Studying some texts by the so-called “Fathers of Europe” in the French-speaking area (Robert Schuman, Jean Monnet, Paul-Henri Spaak and Denis de Rougemont) and comparing them among each other and with their “inter-discourse” (cf. Amossy 2000, pp. 97-99), it is possible to perceive some nuances of their argumentation and in particular to detect some specific emotive strategies (cf. Plantin 1999, pp. 209-216 and Caffi 2001, pp. 69 ff.). In fact, discourses for Europe in the Fifties reveal a relevant presence of emotive communication.
In this paper, we focussed in particular on the evocation of emotions in their orientation towards the future or the past. In fact on the one hand authors often refer to the disphoric couple grieve and fear and on the other hand they point to pride and hope. Observing the temporal characterisation of these emotions, it can be said that grieve refers to the recent past of Europe and fear to its future, in that immediate decisions about the management of the political international situation will determine peace or another war like the two World Wars just finished at the moment of the discussion. On the other hand, when authors argument for pride and hope, they refer pride to the ancient past of European countries, made of great honour and cultural traditions. Pride turns out to be an argument in favour of hope about the political international situation (cf. Schuman 1963, passim).
It should be noticed that the analysis of the historical context allows us to state the “contextual reasonableness” of emotional involvement (i.e. spontaneous expression of emotions) and the relevance of emotive discourse (i.e. strategically provoking emotions in the audience)[i].

The traditional distinction we just mentioned between emotional and emotive communication was firstly proposed by Anton Marty in 1908 and it is still considered valid even if it goes on posing a number of problems. Let us see some of the most important ones.
Emotional communication of ten provokes emotions in the addressee (it causes a natural phenomenon of «emotional synchronization» as Martina Drescher calls it, cf. Drescher 2003): a first important question is to what extent it is correct to call this communication emotive, as addressee’s involvement is not sought after purposely by the speaker. Many effects of emotional synchronization do not depend on strategic communication, as they are a natural effect of the addressee’s emotive capacity (Caffi – Janney 1994, p. 327) when reacting sympathetically with the speaker. The pathological lack of this capacity as a consequence of neurological diseases or chirurgical interventions has been studied e.g. by Damasio (cf. Damasio 2001) while a specific psychological trouble, alexithymy, has been used by Christian Plantin as a metaphor to stigmatize the modern refusal of emotion as intrinsically fallacious in argumentation theory and in some currents of Western culture (Plantin 1998).
Another problem concerns the recognition of an emotion as authentic: it is obviously difficult to determine by a verbal distinctive feature whether an emotion is genuine or simulated; moreover it is sometimes uncertain whether the distinction makes any sense at all. In therapeutic contexts, for instance, the therapist displays towards the patient a “bigger” quantity of involvement than expected in a “normal” context, in order to oblige him to synchronize and guide him back to a “normal” involvement (cf. Caffi 2001).

Finally, emotive communication may be used purposely in order to manipulate the addressee (in the sense explained by Quintilian, when he says that anyone is able to create arguments if he has proofs at his disposal, but what the orator must be able to do is to make the judges see reality in a different way, provoking emotions with his discourse, and thus changing the judge’s view, cf. Quintilian VI, 2, 5-6). This notion of emotive communication could be easily linked to the censure of emotions as sources of fallacies. But emotive communication can be “used” in a reasonable (cf. Rigotti – Rocci – Greco 2006, pp. 268-272) way also in argumentative contexts, not for manipulation purposes. In this case, emotive communication aims at provoking the due involvement in the addressee, i.e. at making him feel the relevance of the decision or choice he is facing. Emotive appeal focuses on the interest of the addressee, in the sense that the author suggests him that it would make no sense to decide without considering some particular implications of his decision. These implications could not be perceived if they were not described in detail and thus imagined and evaluated. The author’s intention, anyway, is not to twist (cf. Rigotti 2005) the addressee’s view. On the contrary: emotive communication is used in a strategic way in order to make the interlocutor consider in a more serious way some relevant aspects of the situation. Here emotion plays its most natural role: it works as a magnifying glass, producing in the addressee a magnified image of a relevant detail. Relevance is addressee oriented (it is not a particular interest of the speaker to make him see that detail, in order to bias his judgment; on the contrary, he realizes that the addressee could miss a relevant point and “forces” him to consider it).

The following methodological remarks (paragraph 3) aim at clarifying how interdiscourse in our corpus has been used in order to define the communicative context of discourses in support of Europe during the Fifties as a persuasive (i.e. not-manipulative) one.

2. Emotions and time
Time is generally acknowledged as a relevant variant in the description of emotions: emotions differ from each other and they differ from feelings, affects, sentiments, passions etc. (also) because of their temporal configuration. In fact it is generally agreed in psychologists’ descriptions that emotions rise in a sudden way and that they have a short duration, while feelings and other attitudes are more persistent i.e. differently time-bound[ii]. This condition is gradual more than discrete and it depends on the origin of the emotion: the very attitudes we are dealing with (grieve, fear, pride and hope) may assume different temporal configurations depending on situations and therefore be experienced both as emotions and as feelings (cf. Plantin 2005 and D’Urso – Trentin 1998).
However, independently of the time of its origin, references to an emotion in texts aim at provoking a reaction now. In this sense, it as been said that emotions are “energy for action” (Plantin 1998), allowing to switch from the decision to its execution[iii]: they may lead further than a simple argument supporting a certain conclusion in discourse.
The roots of involvement and its precise shade should be found in the interdiscourse of the text, i.e. in the co-text and in other texts (experiences, interpretations, evaluations, and the like) shared by the particular speech community addressed (Aristotle’s Rhetoric II): for the text we analysed, e.g., the interdiscourse shows how grieve is linked to the shared experience of war and pride to the common European citizenship, as we will see below.

The text we analysed displays a significantly high presence of signals linking the argumentation to time (adverbs, verb tense, lexical meaning of many words). In fact the argumentation developed in the corpus is not an abstract dissertation about some general principles, but an urgent speech pushing Europeans to make some rapid decisions about the political organization of the continent.
The sense effect of urgency is especially amplified by the repetition of deictic elements meaning that the danger is very near (present tense: “Europe is threatened”, “Europe is divided”, “our present anarchy exposes us tomorrow…”): the disphoric memory (grieve) of the recently past experience of war is evoked as an argument in itself for making up a decision and avoiding the fearful repetition of such a calamity.
The sense of urgency is not linked to euphoric emotions in a strictly similar way: pride and hope open up the discourse to larger time perspectives. Pride is rooted in the tradition of European countries. The more ancient this tradition, the stronger the argument for pride. The stronger pride is argued for, the better reason it is for hoping: if we have been able to create such important values (freedom and human rights in particular are quoted), why shouldn’t we be able to give them vigour again or at least to preserve them? This argument appears anyway to be less strong than the argument based on fear, because the present situation is represented by the orator starting from the disphoric features characterising it: the time component plays an important role as war has just finished – while glorious tradition seems to be somehow lost in the past – and the probable immediate evolution is the negative one – while the hope of recreating the old conditions seems to be far and somehow desperate.
In order to sum up what we have been saying, let us make two points. Firstly, emotions that have been experienced by the addressees in the past are evoked and made present in the discourse: grieve and pride are proposed as relevant elements in the text world created by the proponent. At this stage emotive strategy is based on interest dynamics (Cigada 2006), in that the perception of relevance – among other factors – is time-bound: it is a general interest-principle implication that what is happening at the discourse time is more interesting for the addressee than what happened years before or than what will happen in a very long time. That is why the speaker evokes past events showing that they are linked to the present situation. Imagination (Rigotti – Cigada 2004, pp. 116-120) causes not only the conceptual memory of these events, but their re-presentation (“Veranschaulichung” in Drescher 2003, pp. 101-102 and 189-194; cf. Cigada 2006) and therefore allows a present repetition of the effective experience of the emotions these past events caused time ago.
Secondly, the renewal of grieve and pride is used for the present argumentation. In the decision making process, fear is supported by the representation of the consequences of war and hope by the recalling of Europe’s achievements.

3. Emotions in interdiscourse: methodological remarks
During the Fifties, how to build Europe probably was the most relevant question in political debate, in the whole French speaking area and especially in France. In fact the opposition between France and Germany had been particularly cruel and disconcerting, with the occupation of France, the armistice between Hitler and Pétain, the resistance of a part of French army led from Great Britain by Charles de Gaulle.
Promoting the overcoming of barriers built up after World War II between European countries and between France and Germany in particular appeared to be a necessity, in order to oppose a strong Europe to Soviet Union’s increasing influence.
The “interdiscourse work” takes into consideration three different kinds of text. First, we compare political discourses, official declarations, and public messages produced during the Fifties by the protagonists of political life (French Minister for Foreign Affairs Robert Schuman and his collaborator Jean Monnet; the Swiss federalist Denis de Rougemont; Belgian President Paul-Henry Spaak); secondly, it is relevant to compare this first source with texts written by the same persons some time after the events, in which they remember and explain their former political action (we consider especially Pour l’Europe by Schuman, Mémoires and Les Etats Unis d’Europe ont commencé by Monnet, discourses by Rougemont). Finally, the interdiscourse is built up by newspapers (Le Monde, Figaro and L’Humanité), through which we can perceive the immediate reaction to political decisions in public opinion.

The text we are studying for the present paper (Message to Europeans) was pronounced in 1948 by Denis de Rougemont, who cooperated with politicians from France and other countries in order to prepare a consistent project for the first European Community. This is one of the first texts in our corpus from a chronological point of view (even if we take into account some older registrations of Pétain’s discourses broadcasted by the radio and De Gaulle’s answers, during Vichy).
From a methodological point of view, taking into account interdiscourse is particularly meaningful because it helps defining the communicative context (“discourses in support of Europe during the Fifties”) as a persuasive (and not-manipulative) one. It is reasonable to do so for some important conditions our corpus meets.
In fact, interdiscourse is a reasonable warranty about the intentions of the orator: written memories by the author himself and by other credible persons who worked with him for a long time guarantee about his éthos, i.e. about the sincerity of his commitment to the cause of Europe and peace.
It should be remembered that the interdiscourse of these texts tells us about the strong emotive effect they caused in people at the time (cf. newspapers’ articles commenting on the diffusion of discourses and declarations). Sometimes, interdiscourse even tells us about the strategic intention of producing emotion. It is the case of Schuman’s Declaration about the first economic treatise between France and Germany in 1950: both Schuman and Monnet remember how they worked secretly in order to create a strong surprise effect in governments and in public opinion.
It should be noticed also that the study of the immediate historical context tells us about the positive result of the communicative strategy in the immediate decision making by French and German Governments[iv].

Interdiscourse plays another relevant role for the interpretation of texts. As a matter of fact, the description of emotions cannot be made on the bases of a self analysis of the researcher (Caffi – Janney 1994). If studying discourses pronounced in a (relatively) past time surely helps avoiding the dynamics of self-identification with the effective target audience (cf. Cigada 2006), another instrument is necessary in order to check descriptive objectivity at some acceptable degree. This instrument is the comparison between the semantics of some verbal expressions and their use in other texts in the interdiscourse (same age, same context).
For instance: the expression “genius of variety” used by Rougemont in the Message is used and discussed in Schuman’s Pour l’Europe, where the French minister diffusely praises the idiosyncrasy of French génie in European cultural tradition. That is why we interpret this expression as a reference to a positive value: it brings about an explicit reference to the constructive contribution that each European country gave to the formation of specific aspects of European culture in past centuries and, at the same time, the respect in front of differences between nations and their mutual integration.
Besides, comparing Rougemont’s discourse with others of his texts, it is possible to detect in the expression “genius of variety” a strategic feature of his personal discursive éthos as a Swiss man. In a conference held one year before the Message (Rougemont 1947), in fact, Rougemont compared Switzerland with Europe, speaking about Switzerland as «union paisible de deux religions, de quatre langues, de vente deux républiques, et je ne sais combien de ‘races’ en un Etat qui les respecte» and he said that «cette union prend l’allure à la fois d’un antiracisme déclaré et d’un anti-nationalisme». Assuming the stereotype that a Swiss citizen generally is a good federalist and a good democrat, Rougemont’s discourse about the possibility that Europe follows the example of Swiss Confederation sounded more or less as an expertise. So his éthos is the most congruent to confirm that a traditional “genius of variety” is a very positive condition to build a federation of nations. His authoritative evaluation encourages Europeans to be proud of their own “genius” and to believe that diversity and unity can be successfully combined.

4. Analysis of the corpus
During the final session of the European Congress which took place in The Hague in May 1948, eight hundred participants adopted this basic text, Message to Europeans, drawn up by Rougemont (Rougemont 1948). The text of the message is integrally quoted[v].

Message to Europeans
Europe is threatened, Europe is divided, and the greatest danger comes from her divisions.
Impoverished, overladen with barriers that prevent the circulation of her goods but are no longer able to afford her protection, our disunited Europe marches towards her end. Alone, no one of our countries can hope seriously to defend its independence. Alone, no one of our countries can solve the economic problems of today. Without a freely agreed union our present anarchy will expose us tomorrow to forcible unification whether by the intervention of a foreign empire or usurpation by a political party.
The hour has come to take action commensurate with the danger.
Together with the overseas peoples associated with our destinies, we can tomorrow build the greatest political formation and the greatest economic unit our age has seen. Never will the history of the world have known so powerful a gathering of free men. Never will war, fear and misery have been checked by a more formidable foe.
Between this great peril and this great hope, Europe’s mission is clear. It is to unite her peoples in accordance with their genius of diversity and with the conditions of modern community life, and so open the way towards organised freedom for which the world is seeking. It is to revive her inventive powers for the greater protection and respect of the rights and duties of the individual of which, in spite of all her mistakes, Europe is still the greatest exponent.
Human dignity is Europe’s finest achievement, freedom her true strength. Both are at stake in our struggle. The union of our continent is now needed not only for the salvation of the liberties we have won, but also for the extension of their benefits to all mankind.
Upon this union depend Europe’s destiny and the world’s peace.
Let all therefore take note that we Europeans, assembled to express the will of all the peoples of Europe, solemnly declare our common aims in the following five articles, which summarise the resolutions adopted by the Congress:

PLEDGE
(1) We desire a United Europe, throughout whose area the free movement of persons, ideas and goods is restored;
(2) We desire a Charter of Human Rights guaranteeing liberty of thought, assembly and expression as well as the right to form a political opposition;
(3) We desire a Court of Justice with adequate sanctions for the implementation of this Charter;
(4) We desire a European Assembly where the live forces of all our nations shall be represented;
(5) And pledge ourselves in our homes and in public, in our political and religious life, in our professional and trade union circles, to give our fullest support to all persons and governments working for this lofty cause, which offers the last chance of peace and the one promise of a great future for this generation and those that will succeed it.

As it is evident, the message has a twofold structure, the first part ends with the words Upon this union depend Europe’s destiny and the world’s peace and the second part is connected to the first by the connector therefore which opens the pledge’s declaration. The first part displays an explanatory premise function towards the pledge. The argumentation is mainly emotive.

It is not worthwhile to do here a complete textual analysis in order to show in detail the linguistic features of argumentation for each emotion[vi]: it will be enough to highlight that the first part of the premise is mostly disphoric, while euphoric emotive orientation prevails in the second part as the pledge comes nearer (it would not make sense to commit to some common action if the situation were absolutely desperate).
Past-oriented disphoric emotion of grieve is based on division concept, which is contextually referred to as an immediate and painful consequence of the war: divided, divisions, barriers, disunited, present anarchy… Besides, the systematic use of passive verbal forms conveys a sense effect of defeat and inertia (threatened, divided, impoverished, overladen, disunited). Defence and economic problems are mentioned. War is explicitly mentioned too, associated to fear and misery.
Future-oriented disphoric emotions (fear) is argued both as perpetuation of the present negative situation and as its degeneration (…will expose us tomorrow to forcible unification whether by the intervention of a foreign empire [i.e. Soviet Union] or usurpation by a political party [as Hitler did]). Danger (twice) and great peril ground fear. The intensity of fear is high, as the perspective is desperate (Europe marches towards her end and …no one of our countries can hope to defend its independence).

Euphoric movement starts as an opposite movement, grouping expressions referring to political and economic unity as a source of power. The argumentation of future-oriented euphoric emotions – hope – is based on the notion of unity and unity of free men in particular (together…we can tomorrow build the greatest political formation and the greatest economic unit our age has seen; so powerful a gathering of free men). Hope is evoked both explicitly (this great hope) and implicitly by verbal forms as we can…, future indicative tense and terms like mission, destiny or extension… to all mankind.
The specification of unity as unity of free men is used to pass to past-oriented euphoric emotion. Freedom is implied in the genius of diversity and mentioned both in organised freedom for which the world is seeking and as Europe’s true strength. Some expressions link freedom to European tradition (and the reference to the forced union of the Soviet Union is clear): in addition to the genius of diversity we discussed before, Rougemont uses the verb revive in Europe’s mission is… to revive her inventive power. This verb presupposes that Europe had an inventive power in former ages. Or the adverb still: Europe is still the greatest exponent (of protection and respect of the rights and duties of the individuals), meaning that Europe has always been the greatest exponent of these values. In the first point of the pledge, the verb restore is used, presupposing as well that free movement of persons, ideas and goods had already been possible in the past. Besides, Rougemont states that human dignity is Europe’s finest achievement: the abstract noun refers to the positive conclusion of a process (to achieve – achievement). Pride is not explicitly mentioned, but it is clearly the emotive result the speaker aims at.

5. Concluding remarks
As a sense effect result, the Message – like the other texts in the corpus – shows as a peculiar character the shared perception between orator and audience of the historical relevance of the decisions at stake. Emotional/emotive references to past and future events make the argumentative process lively, “interesting” in the most dramatic sense of the word: Rougemont is not just speaking about political chances that could be changed by a democratic majority, but of a decision upon which the destiny of the whole continent and the values it created depend on.

And maybe this historical consciousness is precisely the dimension that has been lost and we are missing in nowadays discussions about Europe.

NOTES
[i] In particular, it seems to be relevant in this sense the apparent oxymoron between some historical events – such as the French proposal of a Treaty establishing the “European Coal and Steel Community” in 1950 – and the extreme intensity of emotional and emotive involvement surrounding them (cf. Cigada 2006).
[ii] Let us notice en passant that, besides this specific meaning, the term emotion often displays in literature a comprehensive value entailing both emotions and the other emotional attitudes in general.
[iii] It is very interesting to analyse argumentation, decision making and execution when some emotions push towards different contrasting actions, or when emotion pushes towards a certain decision while a more comprehensive (reasonable) evaluation indicates a decision contrasting with it (cf. Cigada 2005).
[iv] The argumentative situation created in that political context was so convincing that it was difficult to find a true opponent: French newspapers quote the objections made by German socialists against Schuman’s proposal, but these objections were very weak and abstract indeed. I thank Christian Plantin for posing this question during my presentation and suggesting me to consider this point. I agree that it will be useful to enlarge the interdiscourse taking into account the argumentation of a completely different point of view on the unification of European nations: presently I am working on articles published by the French newspaper L’Humanité, supporting the Communist party.
[v] The French text of the message: “Message aux Européens. L’Europe est menacée, l’Europe est divisée, et la plus grave menace vient de ses divisions. Appauvrie, encombrée de barrières qui empêchent ses biens de circuler, mais qui ne sauraient plus la protéger, notre Europe désunie marche à sa fin. Aucun de nos pays ne peut prétendre, seul, à une défense sérieuse de son indépendance. Aucun de nos pays ne peut résoudre seul les problèmes que lui pose l’économie moderne. A défaut d’une union librement consentie, notre anarchie présente nous exposera demain à l’unification forcée, soit par l’intervention d’un empire du dehors, soit par l’usurpation d’un parti du dedans. L’heure est venue d’entreprendre une action qui soit à la mesure du danger. Tous ensemble, demain, nous pouvons édifier avec les peuples d’outre-mer associés à nos destinées, la plus grande formation politique et le plus vaste ensemble économique de notre temps. Jamais l’histoire du monde n’aura connu un si puissant rassemblement d’hommes libres. Jamais la guerre, la peur et la misère n’auront été mises en échec par un plus formidable adversaire. Entre ce grand péril et cette grande espérance, la vocation de l’Europe se définit clairement. Elle est d’unir ses peuples selon leur vrai génie, qui est celui de la diversité et dans les conditions du vingtième siècle, qui sont celles de la communauté, afin d’ouvrir au monde la voie qu’il cherche, la voie des libertés organisées. Elle est de ranimer ses pouvoirs d’invention, pour la défense et pour l’illustration des droits et des devoirs de la personne humaine, dont, malgré toutes ses infidélités, l’Europe demeure aux yeux du monde le grand témoin. La conquête suprême de l’Europe s’appelle la dignité de l’homme, et sa vraie force est dans la liberté. Tel est l’enjeu final de notre lutte. C’est pour sauver nos libertés acquises, mais aussi pour en élargir le bénéfice à tous les hommes, que nous voulons l’union de notre continent. Sur cette union l’Europe joue son destin et celui de la paix du monde. Soit donc notoire à tous que nous, Européens, rassemblés pour donner une voix à tous les peuples de ce continent, déclarons solennellement notre commune volonté dans les cinq articles suivants, qui résument la résolution adoptée par notre Congrès: Engagement. 1) Nous voulons une Europe unie, rendue dans toute son étendue à la libre circulation des hommes, des idées et des biens. 2) Nous voulons une Charte des Droits de l’Homme, garantissant les libertés de pensée, de réunion et d’expansion, ainsi que le libre exercice d’une opposition politique. 3) Nous voulons une Cour de Justice capable d’appliquer les sanctions nécessaires pour que soit respectée la Charte. 4) Nous voulons une Assemblée Européenne, où soient représentées les forces vives de toutes nos nations. 5) Et nous prenons de bonne foi l’engagement d’appuyer de tous nos efforts, dans nos foyers et en public, dans nos partis, dans nos églises, dans nos milieux professionnels et syndicaux, les hommes et les gouvernements qui travaillent à cette oeuvre de salut public, suprême chance de la paix et gage d’un grand avenir pour cette génération et celles qui la suivront”.
[vi]. From an empirical point of view, we can observe throughout the corpus the presence of some typical linguistic choices in denomination and in the deictic structure of the textual world, used in discourses to argue dysphoric or euphoric emotions. Observing different texts it is possible to notice the different linguistic and textual phenomena surrounding emotion (for instance: the lexical choices in the denomination of friends and enemies, or the use of many details in descriptions, the intensification of emotional situation and the superposition of different and even opposite emotions; repetitions, tropes…): typical phenomena connected to emotional and/or emotive communication.

REFERENCES
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1. Introduction
The paper aims at the analysis of children’s arguments. Paraphrasing the words by Piaget “There is no better introduction to child logic than the study of spontaneous questions” (Piaget 1971, 162), it could be stated: “There is no better introduction to child logic than the study of their argumentation”.

Many scholars have investigated children’s argumentation (see, for example, the works of J. Piaget 1967, R. Maier 1991, M. Miller 1987, C. McCall 1991). A very impressive list of literature on children’s argumentation can be found, in particular, in rather an interesting article by D. Brownlee and I. Fielding 1991. Yet, I claim that children’s arguments until recently have been examined insufficiently. In the paper I will make an attempt to analyse them from different perspectives and as thoroughly as possible.
As D. Brownlee and I. Fielding correctly mention, “Determining the extent to which children’s argument has been studied depends upon how one defines “argument”” (D. Brownlee and I. Fielding 1991, 1198). In other words, it is important to clarify first whether children use “arguments” in the sense which is understood by scholars and whether children use arguments in general. With regard to the latter C. McCall writes: “… can young children reason? One might reverse the question and ask why should young children be excluded from the category of reasoners? There is no doubt that many theorists do so exclude them”. (C. McCall 1991, 1192). I can’t but agree with the author who states that “it is a large step from saying that … children do not perform correctly to saying that children are uncapable of reasoning.” (C.McCall 1991, 1192).
As an argument in favour of this thesis C. McCall correctly claims that “evidence that children do not do X, does not imply that they cannot do X… young children who are not exposed to situations which require reasoning will not do well on tests for reasoning skills, but this does not mean that they do not have the capacity to reason” (C. McCall 1991, 1193). Little children not only can reason and use arguments – they do reason and use arguments, though in a very specific way. In other words, children’s argumentation can be viewed as a very specific phenomenon typical of children only and denoting their own, a very special way of giving reasons and persuading. As it is correctly mentioned by K. Chukovsky, a famous Russian investigator of children’s discourse, adults often use such expressions as “childish logic”, “to reason like a little child”, “to be as silly as a child” when speaking about a person who talks nonsense. But if we try to penetrate into child logic and reasoning, we can see the desire of a child to comprehend the surrounding world and to establish causal relationship between life phenomena (K. Chukovsky 1990, 154). That is why the notion of “children’s argumentation” should be distinguished from that of “childish argumentation”, the latter characterizing some adults.

The data for the research were extracted from several sources: a) recorded spontaneous discourse of my two children during the age period from 2,5 to 11, b) several diaries of Armenian parents, c) K. Chukovsky’s (1990) book “From two to five”, which contains speech corpora of little children of different nationalities, collected for several decades. Thus, the factors of different cultural and social backgrounds, as well as the diachronic aspect were taken into account.
First, the whole corpus under investigation was classified thematically, according to the particular topic of argumentative discourse: discourse concerning birth, death, philosophical problems, time and age, sex differentiation, animated and inanimate objects, family ties. Then the arguments have been examined from the point of view of their form of manifestation, structure and character. Finally, a comparative analysis has been made.

2. The analysis of children’s arguments
The results show that taken the parameter of the level of representation, or form of manifestation, explicit, implicit and partially-implicit arguments can be singled out in children’s discourse.

Explicit argumentative discourse takes mainly the form of causal and conditional utterances, which is typical of adults’ argumentative discourse as well. Below are examples of explicit causal argumentative discourse:
“I’ll not become an academic because Lenin was the cleverest academic and died, and I don’t want to die” (Ara, 5 years old).

“The woman was crying because she had died” (Tatevik, 3 years old). The indicator of argumentation here is the conjunction “because”. Here is an example of an explicit argumentative discourse in the form of a conditional with the indicator of argumentation “if”: “If Tateveik and I don’t give birth to children we’ll die and the Zilfugarians’ family will not exist anymore. We don’t want it to happen” (Ara, 7 years old).

Regarding the conditionals in children’s reasoning, it should be mentioned that all types are used: both real and unreal conditionals. This fact proves that children differentiate the modality of reality and irreality, the pragmatic meaning of such utterances, and express their attitude towards facts and situations accordingly. Here is an example of a real conditional utterance:
On my refusal to give birth to a brother or sister for the birthday, my son said: “If you don’t, I’ll ask Daddy to do it” (Ara, 7 years old).
And in the following counterfactual conditionals, in addition to the modality of irreality, the pragmatics of disapproval is expressed as well: “If I knew that the world was so bad, I’d not like to live in this world” (Ara, 8 years old).
A little girl to her mother: “If I knew that you are so disgusting, I would never be your daughter”.

Let us consider now cases of partially-implicit argumentation in children’s dialogic discourse. In the following discourse the first utterance “Tatevik, don’t make Mummy angry, otherwise she won’t bring us a child. She must go to a hospital in Yerevan and buy there a child for us” (Ara, 6 years old) can be easily transformed, due to the conjunction “otherwise”, into an explicit conditional utterance of the form: “Tatevik, don’t make Mummy angry, because if you make her angry, she won’t bring us a child”.

Once my 5 year-old son suggested to me the following formula of immortality: “I’ve had the idea of doing so that you’ll never die. Be a good man, and you’ll never die”. The second utterance here, due to the use of imperative mood in the antecedent, as well as the conjunction “and” can be easily transformed into an utterance with “if”: “If you are a good man, you’ll never die”. Another illustration of partially-implicit argumentation is the following:
“Are fascists buried deep in the earth so that they won’t come out of there when they recover?” (Ara, 4 years old).
Here the indicator of partially-implicit argumentation is the conjunction “so that”. Let us consider the following dialogic discourse:
“I don’t know yet of the way how not to have bad dreams”.
“You think of nothing”.
“To think of nothing means to die” (Ara, 8 years old). The last part of this discourse can be considered as partially-implicit conditional, with the indicator of argumentation “means”.
Now, let us pass on to the analysis of fully implicit argumentation.
Little George has cut a worm in two.
“Why have you done it?”
“The worm was bored. Now there are two of them. They are having fun now”.
5 year-old Ara says about his younger sister:
“She’ll never die, it happens not in life but only in tales”.

Before leaving for Belarus I asked my son what present he would like to get, adding that he shouldn’t be offended if there were no fishing-rods there (which was his dream at that time). The response was: “I don’t need any fishing-rods. I am not a man of fashion”. The contextual analysis reveals the implied causal meaning in the examples above, that is with the lack of formal indicator of causal relation this meaning is expressed at the deep level. Let us consider the following dialogic discourse:
“On what day did you become pregnant?”
“I don’t remember”.
“You should remember. These days must be celebrated just like birthdays.” (Ara, 10 years old).

Here we deal with a case of a fully implicit causal argument of emotional character which can be explicated as follows: “You should remember the day when you became pregnant, as it is as important as the day of birth”. It is worth mentioning that cases of fully implicit argumentation in children’s discourse are scarce, which can be explained, probably, by the explicit character of their thinking processes. These observations, by the way, are contradictory to J. Piaget’s conclusions.

A very interesting case of arguments is the one met in metaphoric expressions coined by children, as well as in their metaphoric comparisons. Below are some illustrations:
“Little children are cars for ants and grown-ups are buses, because ants climb on me so that I’ll take them away” (Ara, 4 years old).

“A huge apple is the elephant of apples, because it is as large as the son of the elephant” (Ara, 5 years old).

Once my 9-year old son reproached me for having punished his sister in the following way: “Tatevik is foil and you are tin. Just like foil must grow to become tin, so Tatevik must grow to become a grown-up” (the argument is “She is little”). On my return home from a business trip I asked my 10-year old son whether he had missed me. The response was the following: “Just like the gas-burner can’t exist without gas, so a child can’t stay without his mother” (the implicit argument here is that he had missed me because a child cannot stay, live without his mother).

A very interesting group in children’s argumentative discourse form cases of their etymologies of unknown words and proper names expressed by means of complex sentences of reason. As the material under investigation is in Armenian and in Russian, the illustrations will be omitted. However, it should be mentioned that almost every time children come across a new word, they try to explain it, to give reasons, arguments why objects or people are called this or that way. It is natural that their etymologies (etymological conclusions) can’t be scientific and that they are mainly false, being based on either phonetic associations or surface morphological analysis. However, it is worth mentioning that sometimes etymologies, though false, made by different children are identical, which speaks to the specific logic and reasonableness of their arguments. Also, cases of true and false etymologies of one and the same word made by different children have been singled out. In addition, there are very interesting and rather intricate cases of complex argumentative discourse consisting of partially true and partially false etymological explanation of one and the same word.
What regards the structure of children’s argumentation, cases of single and complex arguments can be singled out, the former prevailing in the analysed age range. Let us analyse first some cases of single argumentation when only one argument is being put forward. Thus, for example, in “We’re men, aren’t we? Let’s watch a football match” (Ara, 2 years old) one argument is put forward – the argument of “being a man” with the implicature of “being strong” and “being grown-up”. In the following discourse: “Those who are dishevelled are boys. Mummy is a boy because she is dishevelled and Tatevik, Daddy and I are girls because we aren’t dishevelled” (Ara, 4 years old) also one argument in put forward, and rather an amusing and trivial one.
And now let us consider cases of complex argumentation. In: “Tatevik, don’t make Mummy angry, otherwise she won’t bring us a child. She must go to a hospital in Yerevan and buy there a child for us” the argument which is put forward in the first part of the discourse is strengthened by an additional supporting argument expressed in the last part.

After watching a TV programme about newly-born children and their mothers, my 6-year-old son, who had already learned that children are not being bought or given, said: “In Yerevan, children are born, as you’ve told us, and in Moscow, they are simply given to their mothers”. This is a bright example of a case when within one and the same discourse two arguments are used-one true and the other false. Acquiring new knowledge, children reformulate their old beliefs (and points of view) with reluctance. The first part of the discourse contains “argumentum ad verecundiam”, appeal to authority, with the phrase “as you’ve told us” being its indicator, whereas the second, false argument is emphasized by “simply”, the conjunction “and” in adversative meaning, as well as by the opposition of the place-names “Yerevan-Moscow”.

Finally, let us consider the following dialogic discourse:
“Oh, Mummy, Mummy! Why haven’t you got 2 husbands?”
“Why should I?”
“It would be nice. One would go to work, the other would stay home and vice versa” (Ara, 7 years old).

In this exchange, the axiological argument “it would be nice” of emotional character, which is expressed in the principal clause of the counterfactual conditional in the elliptical form and with the pragmatics of regret, is strengthened further by specifying arguments.

Let us now analyse children’s argumentation from the perspective of the character of arguments. In this case various kinds of arguments can be distinguished: true, false, partially‑true, partially-false, “argumentum ad verecundiam” (argument to authority), “argumentum ad baculum”, argument to the power of words, argument from analogy, axiological, emotional arguments, etc. Let us consider some of them.

In the above-mentioned discourse “If Tatevik and I don’t give birth to children we’ll die and the Zilfugarians’ family will not exist anymore. We don’t want it to happen” (Ara, 7 years old), the argument can be qualified as true, axiological, emotional. The examples below illustrate false argumentation based on the limited or distorted, wrong knowledge: children think of dying for some time, of reanimating or recovering after death, of not dying completely:
“Are fascists buried deep in the earth so that they won’t come out of there when they recover?” (Ara, 4 years old).
“Do they put the dead people in the earth so that they won’t run away from there?” (Ara, 5 years old).
“Why are they going to bury this man tomorrow? Is it because they want him to die well?” (Ara, 5 years old).
“The woman was crying because she had died” (Tatevik, 3 years old).
In the example below the false argument of “being a schoolgirl” is put forward:
“She couldn’t give birth to a baby at the age of 14 because she was a schoolgirl then” (Tatevik, 9 years old).

In the following statement about the younger sister “She’ll never die, it happens not in life but only in tales” (Ara, 5 years old) the false argument of “children’s purposefulness” (“not in life by only in tales”) is put forward. Such arguments are often put forward by children in uncomfortable situations, namely in cases concerning death of their relatives, dear people.

Once, when I asked my 5-year-old daughter what mark she had got in tennis, she answered, “An excellent”. To my question how she knew it, she answered: “My coach hasn’t said that I got “an excellent” but I did get “an excellent”. She hasn’t said it because she is sick and tired of telling it all the time”.

Cases of partially-true, or partially-false argumentation can be found, too. It should be added that this refers to cases of single argumentation (example N1), as well as to cases of complex argumentation when one argument is true whereas the other one is false (example N2):
Example N1. “To think of nothing means to die”.
Example N2. “In Yerevan, children are born, as you’ve told us, and in Moscow, they are simply given to their mothers”.

In addition, cases of irrelevant argumentation (“ignoratio elenchi”) are often found in children’s speech. The following argumentative discourse illustrates it.

After the death of the leader of the country:
“Are you sorry for Chernenko?”
“Yes. His wife is now alone” (Tatevik, 6 years old).

The study shows that in the process of argumentation children also use arguments to authority (“argumentum ad verecundiam”). It can be illustrated by the following utterances which have been already quoted above:
“In Yerevan, children are born, as you’ve told us…”.
“I’ll not become and academic because Lenin was the cleverest academic and died…”.

Children intensively use also “argumentum ad baculum”, they make pressure of emotional character, like, for example, in the following case:
“If you don’t become pregnant, I’ll put a tablet into your coffee so that you’ll drink it and give birth to a baby” (Ara, 9 years old).
In the following utterance of my 3-year-old daughter “Do it, or else I’ll die” the argument of death can be characterized as “argumentum ad baculum”, making conditional threat, emotional blackmail (cf. observations on children’s arguments in the form of power voiced in Maier 1991).

A bright example of an argument to the power of words can be found in the following counterfactual conditional with the pragmatic meaning of irreality and regret:
“How I wish that there wasn’t such a word like “dying”. It would be so: mummy, granny, again mummy”.
“If there wasn’t such a word, what would be then?”
“It would be nice. Nobody would die” (Tatevik, 6 years old).

Little Ann: “They are speaking about war on the radio. What is war?”
“It is when the enemies attack a peaceful country, kill people, destroy cities and villages”.
The girl is taking the radio down the wall.
“Where are you taking it? Put it back”.
“I am going to throw it away”.
“Why?”
“So that there is no war”.

Children use also arguments from analogy. This fact has been observed by many scholars. It is mentioned that even at a very early age they reason by analogy (see A. Brown 1989, 369‑412). Let us illustrate it with the following sequence uttered by my 9-year-old son: “A hair doesn’t do any harm to a hair. A wolf doesn’t do any harm to a wolf. A fish doesn’t do any harm to a fish. And a man must not do any harm to a man”.

Or, when I asked my 9-year-old son why, in his opinion, the side-show was called Moon‑park, he answered, rather convincingly: “I think the Moon-park is called so because everything is fantastic and unique there and the Moon is unique. That is why it is called so”. This discourse of causal character is based on the laws of strict analogy.

This argument from analogy has at the same time axiological character – it is an ethical argument juxtaposing virtue and vice, kindness and harm.

It should be mentioned that various kinds of axiological arguments abound in children’s discourse. Some of them have been already considered above. Let us analyse some more examples. In the above-mentioned discourse “I don’t need any fishing-rods. I am not a man of fashion” the ethical argument of being/not being a man of fashion, of belonging/not belonging to a high society is put forward. The axiological (moral) argument of bad versus good is put forward in the statement: “If I knew that the world was so bad, I’d not like to live in this world”. In “Be a good man, and you’ll never die” the axiological (ethical) argument of “being a good man” is used.

It should be noted that many of the analysed arguments, in particular, axiological arguments and arguments “ad baculum”, have at the same time emotional colouring. Finally, then, let us consider the following case of the use of emotional argument. When once in a toy‑shop I asked my 4-year-old son why he was insisting on buying the toy which he already had at home, he answered laconically: “For joy”, thus putting forward a very strong emotional argument. It is worth mentioning that, generally, emotional arguments prevail at a very young age.

It can be argued that the reason for the specific character of children’s arguments is due to their very limited knowledge and special mentality with its own system of values.

The observations show the evolution in the use of arguments by children in the course of time: the older children become, the better, more logical, reasonable and more convincing arguments they use, which are based on generally accepted presuppositions. The following example comes to illustrate it:
“Our tape-recorder is the leader of other tape-recorders”.
“Why?”
“Because it is so nice” (Ara, 6 years old).

The argumentation here is based on the generally accepted presupposition that only what is nice, what is the best can be “the leader”. Compare in this regard the conclusion drawn by C.McCall after a course of training sessions with little children: “Over the course of time the children, using the limited vocabulary available to them, developed their own reasoning procedures” (C. McCall 1991, 1195).

The comparative analysis of different children’s arguments has revealed that with all the individual differences there is much in common, which is in agreement with the hypothesis I put forward. This is corroborated also by K.Chukovsky who claims the typicalness of children’s reasoning after having investigated a great number of utterances of children living in different parts of the former Soviet Union and at different periods (K. Chukovsky 1990, 203, 321). The results of the comparative analysis of children’s and adults’ arguments suggest that children’s arguments are in many respects similar to those of adults. Compare in this respect the following conclusion drawn by M. Willbrand (1981, 602): “For the present it appears that in terms of types of reasons in unplanned discourse the language of the 5 year old demonstrates most of the strategies of the adult”.

On the other hand, it is common knowledge that children’s arguments are often in discrepancy with arguments of adults, which leads to failure in communication: strong, reasonable arguments from children’s point of view are considered by adults as unreasonable and weak. Compare: “A good argument is one … which “we” judge to be reasonable…” (C. McCall 1991, 1190).

3. Conclusion
From what has been said above, it becomes obvious that the examination of children’s arguments has not only great cognitive value, but also important educational aspect. The deeper study of children’s argumentation process will help us better understand them and bridge the gap between two “different worlds”; it will, at the same time, enable us to teach young children reason more logically and use better arguments. Isn’t it a good argument for doing so?

REFERENCES
Brown, A.L. (1989). “Analogical Learning and Transfer: What Develops?” Similarity and Analogical Reasoning. S. Vosniadou and A. Ortony (eds.). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Brownlee, D. and I. Fielding (1991). “Models of Reasoning in Children’s Television Programming: a Preliminary Investigation”. Proceedings of the II International Conference on Argumentation. F. H. van Eemeren et al. (eds.). Amsterdam: SIC SAT, 1198-1206.
Chukovsky, K. (1990). “From Two to Five”. Proceedings. Moscow: Pravda, vol I: 73-404 (in Russian).
Maier, R. (1991). “Argument and Power”. Proceedings of the II International Conference on Argumentation. F. van Eemeren et al. (eds.). Amsterdam: SIC SAT, 108-116.
McCall, C.C. (1991). “Reasoning and Young Children”. Proceedings of the II International Conference on Argumentation. F. H. van Eemeren et.al. (eds). Amsterdam: SIC SAT, 1190-1197.
Miller, M. (1987). “Argumentation and Cognition”. Social and Functional Approaches to Language and Thought. Hickmann, M. (ed.). New York: Academic Press, 225-249.
Piaget, J. (1967). Etudes Sociologiques. Droz, Geneva.
Piaget, J. (1971). The Language and Thought of a Child. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul edition.
Willbrand, M.L. (1981). “Child reason in supplicatory discourse: Rules to be refined”. Dimensions of Argument. G. Ziegelmueller and J. Rhodes (eds.). Annandale, VA.

1. Introduction
The purpose of this article* is to show how with diaphonic appropiation (Roulet, 1985, quoted by Perrin, 1995) argumentations and refutations, topical negotiations and political rival´s disqualifications take part, turning the debate into a “language game”, particularity when roles that are ideologically tied to institutional restrictions where the interactions take place.
In the study of reported speech two uses can be distinguished: polyphony and diaphony. In the first of them, the another´s words are raised as a reference object, but he or she does not become an interlocutor, so there is not a true interaction in the argumentative sense. In polyphony, the reference has only narrative aims. On the other hand, in a diaphonic structure the enunciator appropiates and gives a new interpretation to the addressee´s words in his or her own speech (L. Perrin, 1995). As a consequence of this, every  diaphonic appropiation has a argumentative value. In Roulet´s words, “diaphonic appropiation’s structure is also one of the privileged characteristics of points of view negotiations present in every interaction” (Roulet et al., 1985, p. 71). Our corpus belongs to a debate held on September 22nd, 2004, in the National House of Representatives, where the subject treated was the retroactive sanction of a bill submitted by the National Executive Power to allow the access to the country to foreign troops and the exit of national troops.

According to Miche (1996), parlamentary debate develops a triangular interaction between three actors: the speaker or direct enunciator, the receiver or interlocutor (indirect) and the blank actor, or assembly. Nevertheless, the kind of interaction in a parlamentary debate is a complex one, for different reasons. The first being that representatives are generally speaking in the name of broader collective enunciators, as political blocs are. Second, media often have cameras and other transmission devices, ready to receive and spread representatives´ speeches to new audiences. Leaving to be defined who the real audience is, the people present or the television viewers. In conclusion, to reduce the actual communicative relationship in Congress to a triangular interaction is a matter of opinion. Using this, we will show, in this analysis, how this acting scheme becomes more complex when considering that participant’s places in the debate are, in one way, previously determined, but in another they are roles developing during the speech and the communicative situation.
Although representative’s statements are verbally addressed to a primary audience (in this case, the Speaker), turning the assembly into an indirect or secondary addressee, from the speech´s point of view it can be noted that the hierarchy is the opposite. When a statement is addressed to both at the same time, they are both direct audiences. So, if we look at the parlamentary debate as an example, the roles are filled by representatives, the Speaker and the audience, as complex enunciating devices. Each of the representatives exposes his point of view (in fact, it is a collective one, because it represents his or her whole block, party and constituent’s desires). The public can be seen as a listener, a primary or secondary audience, and their identity depends on the discoursive construction and the situation (media, general public, people present). The Speaker, in addition to his role as addressee, has the task to give the order of speakers, to take control of the time used by each, and mainly to bring order to the discussion, avoiding deviations.

2. Analysis of a discoursive identity construction
Our corpus belongs to a debate held on September 22nd, 2004, in the National Congress House of Representatives, where the subject treated was the retroactive sanction of a bill submitted by the National Executive Power to allow the access to the country to foreign troops and the exit of national troops.
Its discussion and approval by a majority first occured in the Foreign Relationships and Worship Commission and then in the Parlamentary Labour Commission. The latter is where agreement is reached on the matters which will be considered in each session, the order, and the results of the treatment of each subject, previously known. Each bloc´s president is allowed to take part in these meetings.

It can be perceived, when the debates´ transcriptions are analysed, that the Speaker doesn´t make a single action when he speaks: it is more than the mere act of speaking means more than this. In fact, in the start of the session, when the Speaker invites Luis Zamora[i] to speak, says:
(1) “The representative for the Capital city –who has just asked for his place in the order of speakers- has the floor”.

It should be noted that the subordinating clause “who has just asked for his place in the order of speakers” is adding unnecessary, but not irrelevant, information. Using this “extra” information, the audience can make his or her own hypothesis, in other words, find his or her own implication (cfr. Grice:1979). What could this implication possibly be? For example, that Zamora had no previous interest in the subject, or that he is entering the debate in an opportunist way. Zamora answers the direct statement, but he also responds to its implication:
(2) “Mr. Speaker: Exactly, I´ve just booked to speak, but I´ve signed the dispatch in the Foreign Relationships and Worship Commission in total disagreement”.

Also noteworthy is the importance of making present the implicit elements that are relevant in every argumentation analysis (van Eemeren, Frans and Grootendorst, Rob, 2004). Zamora makes clear that he got interested on time about the subject. The word exactly is a mark of polyphony (Miche: 1996): it confirms the validity of the previous enunciation and allows for the strategical maneuvering of concession, followed by a counter-argumentation introduced by the adversarial connector “but”, where he shows his point of view, turning the mediator-Speaker into an opponent.
We suggested at the beginning that parlamentary debate is a complex interaction. What can be seen here is that from the start the role of the Speaker as neutral and regulatory, vanishes when, answering to his implicit assertion, Zamora treats him not on a mediator but as an opponent.
As van Eemeren and Grootendorst (2004) state, argumentation frequently makes use of non explicit premises (implicits). Sometimes it is easy to detect them and sometimes it is not, but “a logical analysis, based only on logical criteria of validation is then undecisive (…) It also requires a pragmatic analysis which makes use of the contextual information and the background” (p. 3). Taking into account this idea, in our example, it must be said that the Speaker of the House takes the place of the opponent because he shows the official block´s point of view.
When we note that it is necessary to add the rhetoric dimension to the analysis (cfr. van Eemeren and Houtlosser, 2002), it can be seen, in addition to Zamora’s maneuvering of concession, the use of refutation, which runs parallel to the configuration of an ethos: Zamora configures a scene where he defines the protagonists and antagonists´ roles and he makes himself the representative of the people´s interests, also building the opponent´s image as the executor of political decisions connected to interests against the best interest of the nation.

Recently, different theorists of argumentation defend the importance of making a place for rhetoric in the dialectical device. We hold that the consideration of rhetoric is an undeniable part in every analysis of argumentative speech. “There is no reason –  van Eemeren and Houtlooser state- to think that rhetoric norms of persuasion are necessarily in contradiction with the dialectic ideals of reasonableness, although both tendences, in fact, are always in tension”. The need to soften this tension ends in what van Eemeren and Houtlosser call “strategical maneuvering”. “Each part tries to fit optimally into the situation, using the available material in the context in the quickest way, taking into account the beliefs, preferences and expectations of the other party or of the audience, and expressing his own contributions in the more proper way” (van Eemeren and Houtlosser, 2002). In this sense, we consider that self configuration  (ethos) is the result of an advanced strategical maneuvering in the first stage of the argumentation, which allows the orator, on one hand, to select the most suitable topics to fit his own image as he presents it, and on the other, to take a position on the argumentative sense, identifying himself with several values and ideological points of view, and acting according to them. In doing this, he never gives up using his antagonist, in this  way each party in the discussion builds his identity in opposition to the other. It should be noticed the efficacy of Zamora´s following intervention, where he appropiates his own words diaphonically again, making them operate as an ideological affirmation.

(3) Some time ago we have said that it is an exercise of dignity that makes us proud that we can say no to these propositions of the government of President Kirchner – as for previous governments that acted exactly the same way- and to American pressures…

It also appears in Patricia Walsh’s intervention[ii]:
(4) Mr. Speaker: Izquierda Unida´s block will vote against this bill. In previous opportunities, we have stated with fundamentals our position on this matter.

Manouverings like these help to show a commitment with the construction of an ethos proposing, while at the same time, an ethic identity and a way of behaviour.

In the first moment, the goal of Luis Zamora´s speech was to establish the topics of the discussion. It is not a matter, for Zamora, of the bill in itself but about of the conditions in which this law is being discussed. The object of the discussion is displaced over itself, over its own conditions. We are placed between the first and the second stage of what van Eemeren (2006) defines as a critical discussion, in other words, the confrontation stage, where a topic is brought, and the opening stage, where both parties find the common ground over which discussion is placed. Then, what kind of negotiation is held? On one hand, points of view are negociated (speech level), and on the other, the rules governing the discussion (meta-speech level).  The conditions of debate under question can be divided in two blocks:
1) Zamora asserts the need to respect the law that orders that the Executive Power must send bills with enough time to be discussed by national representatives, because it asked Congress to sanction the law, when military operations had already begun a few days ago.

2) Zamora speaks at against the trend usually House discusses, numerical questions (number of soldiers, guns, costs, etc.) but not the goal and who the issue relates to the idea of what the country should do. To do this, he uses an argumentative scheme based on the strategy of the analogy:

(5) It would be interesting to listen to some of the representatives that took part in a previous debate, when the problem that arose in Osetia was discussed; I mean, those of them who said that the rejection to Bush´s policy was not in discussion there. As that policy is really in discussion now, it will be interesting to listen to them. They now say that they reject all kind of terrorism and also what Bush does.”[iii]

Here we have an appropiation of other representatives´ words, with a diaphonic value, because the speaker is not only telling that some time ago other representatives said such things, but also, fundamentally, that it is useful for him to give a new interpretation. From this appropiation Zamora displaces the argumentation’s point of view: the law itself is no longer being discussed (as the Speaker of the House suggested), but the subject will now be around Bush´s policy. As it can be seen, there is a further negotiation of the topic. This supports Zamora´s long argumentation, which could be summed up in a few propositions, like the following:
a) President George Bush uses terrorist policies.
b) Representatives support the access to the country of President Bush´s troops to operate with Argentine troops.
c) Representatives support terrorist policies (so, bill mustn´t be passed).

In this sense, we can say that diaphonic appropiation is a particular way of strategical maneuvering with specific argumentative goals. Let´s look at the following part of Rep. Zamora´s speech:
(6) For these reasons, I reject those who said that the issue I´m developing was not in discussion when the terrorist action of Putins and Bushes in the world took place to bring us all their ideals. Now it is to be decided if troops financed, paid and supported by the people of Argentina are going to take part in military operations with terrorists and torturers of Abu Ghraib, Guantánamo and Irak”.

The diaphonic appropiation functions to appeal to those who held that Bush´s policy was not being discussed and to put that point of view into the debate. In this case, the maneuvering is positioned at the confrontation stage, and its function is to defend its own point of view sustainability, referring to others´ judgement.
(7) Kerry[iv] said that the United States should have intervened in Argentina, on December 19th and 20th, 2001. For these kind of operations –that the House is considering today- Army, Navy and Air Force are being prepared in our country.

or the following:
(8) Clarke´s book –he has been Bush´s functionary- agrees with other books written about that matter and U.S. Congress´s investigation. Bush asked for targets to bomb and occupy in several continents. (…) U. S. President thought about bombing Argentina, Brasil and Paraguay! It is now being discussed if Argentina will take part of operations with American army, that means international terrorists.

In these cases, it is clear that polyphonic appropiation is a part of a strategical maneuvering with rethorical goals. It is a conciliatio. As soon as the reasons for considering the tendentiousity, unscrupulousity and terroristness of Bush´s military are accepted, the (implicit) point of view that everybody who cooperates with those operations is also a terrorist and should be considered in the same way.

From here it is useful to remember the difference between rationality and reasonableness set by van Eemeren and Peter Houtlosser (2002). This difference was already in Toulmin (Return of reason), who identified rationality with dialectics, and reasonableness with rhetorics. Rationality is a logical principle, while reasonableness means putting logic to work. Therefore, reasonableness is a pragmatic principle that places discussion in a frame of certain intersubjective agreements[v] (Van Eemeren and Houtlooser, 2002, p. 131). This is what shows the evolution of a dialectical model to a pragma-dialectical one. Now the question is: can real arguments – let´s suppose, those settled in a Congressional debate – be subjected to norms and schemes of the critical discussion model?

According to pragma-dialectics (van Eemeren, Grootendorst and Henkemans, 2002) four stages in every critical discussion can be distinguished: confrontation, opening, argumentation and conclusion (van Eemeren et al., 2002). Now, as the difference of opinion is defined in the confrontation stage and the agreements for any sustained discussion are settled in an opening stage (van Eemeren and Houtlooser, 2002), if these stages can not be completed, an argumentative stage will never be reached, and a conclusion will be much less possible. In this case, the conclusion will be the result of only practical actions, but not of a critical discussion. Our conclusion on this issue, according to what we have seen from our corpus, is that parlamentary debate cannot proceed past the confrontation and opening stages. It can also be said that as participants cannot reach an agreement on the discussion rules, this stage becomes a part of the argumentative stage, because when someone´s opinion is confronted, the frame of discussion is also put under discussion. Anyway, the agreement is still missing. As we have explained before, every representative in the House knows in advance the political and ideological position that the others will take, so it is generally unnecessary to make the difference of opinion clear, because the participants are expecting it. This is an example of what Michel Foucault described as excluding proceedings from speech: “The speech (…) the prohibitions lying on it, show very soon, its link to desire and power (…) speech is not just what expresses disagreements and power, but it is the cause and the means of that fight, that power which someone is hoping to get” (Foucault, 1980, p. 12).

Every diaphonic appropiation places as an object for an intervention a constitutional part of the dialogue held by the locutor and his interlocutor. The proceeding consists of referring to a real or potential speech act from his or her addressee and the continuation of a talk begun from that act (Perrin, 1995). It is a constant in this parlamentary debate that representatives, when revealing their point of view, make the same maneuvering: they redefine the speech object by a diaphonic appropiation. Let´s look at an example:
(9) Mr. Daniel ESAIN[vi]: Mr. President: (…) What is underlying here is if Argentina needs to have military forces or not. This is the key of this debate, beyond it is disguised as a behavior of subordination to the United States, which in fact is inexistent. If you want to discuss if military forces are unnecessary, you should do it openly (…) So, if we want to discuss here if military forces are unnecessary, do it openly. In this way, we can´t mix here, like Enrique Santos Discepolo would say, the Bible with the water heater.

It should be noted here how the speaker redefines his point of view, at the same time considering the other´s point of view as a deviation or incongruence. The authority quotation with which he closes his enunciation is a polyphonic use of the lyrics of a tango, which serves as a counterargument for the former appropiation.
Frequent expressions in our corpus, like “I mean that the expositions made here have nothing to do with the subject we are considering”, “what we are considering is”, “this has nothing to do with everything said until now”, “I repeat that these are things with nothing to do with…” show that, when the potential topic is chosen, the strategic maneuvering in the confrontation stage is driven to the most effective choice between the potential topics for discussion, rectifying the “disagreement field” in the interest of both parties´s preferences. “In the opening stage, this is reached when the strategic maneuvering is aimed to build the most convenient point of view, for example, bringing to memory or taking the other part´s concessions” (van Eemeren and Houtlooser, 2002, p. 139).
In the interactionist approach (Filletaz, 1996), the speech´s referential dimension adopts, as a major principle, the mixed nature of speech forms. In this orientation the following representations can be distinguished: a) prototypic representations (those consentedly shared by both interlocutors); b) individual representations (linked to the individual point of view of one of the interlocutors), and c) the mixed interaction representations (which mix individual representations which complete each other to build the speech object). As a matter of fact, it is crucial, in a difference of opinion, to identify the issue in discussion as to select the most suitable arguments for defending the point of view and thus arriving to a more succesful resolution. Now, the starting point (the one that provokes the discussion) is not given once and for all, but, instead, it is up for negotiation. Notice, however, that although this perspective shows how the speech object´s identification is attained by means of negotiations which lead to the co-partnership of that object, this interactive-modular formulation views the demands for precision done by the interlocutors as the recognition of the incomplete nature of verbal interactions, without stopping at the argumentative aspects of every negotiation. In this sense, the demands for precision, deviances and misunderstandings can´t be considered as bad actualizations or wrongful actualizations of the speech object. We would like to emphasize that it can´t be missed, in a speech analysis, until every act of naming an object is an operation of selection and designation, and so, it acquires an argumentative nature. Let us warn that every topical negotiation is located in a ideological and power field of battle.

3. Conclusions
In conclusion, we consider that the diaphonic appropiation of another´s word constitutes a substantial strategic maneuvering for topical reorientation, and its argumentative value lies on the possibility to define what can be discussed or not, including what is acceptable and leaving out everything considered irrelevant. So, the question is about the power to say. Each representative defines the topic, expressing a point of view of the object; in other words, he or she holds an ideological and ethical position, and in the same time he or she fights for the power to say it.

NOTES
* Translated from Spanish by Hernán Biscayart.
[i] Luis Zamora is a national representative, chief of a party in the oposition, Autodeterminación y Libertad (Selfdetermination and Freedom) . In December 2003 (almost a year before this debate in the House) he had asked for stopping the “Unitas Operation”, and has accused President Néstor Kirchner to allow the access of army corps, ships, airplanes, helicopters and four hundred American marines, added to five hundred Spanish soldiers and corps and ships from other countries, with no Congress permission, as Constitution orders to do.
[ii] The daughter of the “desaparecido” writer, Rodolfo Walsh.
[iii] The current position of Rep. Luis Zamora is the same which he held on Septiembre 22nd, 2004, when the House approved a law proposal in rejection of terrorist actions in Beslan, North Osetia, Russia, on September 1st, 2004, when a command claiming for the retirement of Russian troops from Chechenia kept under their power more than 300 people in a school in North Osetia Republic. In the attempt to rescue them more than 200 people were killed. Many of them were children, according to press reports. Because of that conflict, the House of Representatives discussed a law project.
[iv] Senator John Kerry was the Democrats´ candidate for United States President in the elections of 2004.
[v] For example: that argumentation must be based on sustainable premises, that it must fit in a particular situation and in a specific culture, and that participants must obey the rules of a critical discussion, until the difference of opinion is resolved.
[vi] A member of the parlamentary bloc “Participación Ciudadana”.

REFERENCES
Eemeren Frans van y Houtlosser, Peter (eds.) 2002, Dialectic and  Rhetoric. The Warp and Woof of Argumentation Analysis, Academic Publishers. Kluwer.
Eemeren Frans van, Grootendorst, P. Y Henkemans (2002). Argumentation, Lawrence Erlbaum Associates Publishers, London.
Eemeren, Frans van y Grootendorst, Rob (2004), A Systematic Theory of Argumentation, Cambridge University Press.
Filletaz, L. (1996), “Vers une approche interactionniste de la dimension référentielle du discours”, Cahiers de Linguistique Française 18, p. 33-67.
Fillettaz, Laurent y Roulet, Eddy (2002), The Geneva Model of discourse análisis: an interactionist and modular approach to discourse organization., Discourse Studies, vol.4, n° 1, p. 369 – 393.
Foucault, Michel (1980), El orden del discurso, Paris, Tusquets.
Grice, H. Paul, Logique et conversation, in Communications, 30, 1979, p.57-72.
Marafioti, Roberto (comp.) (1998), Recorridos semiológicos, Buenos Aires, Eudeba.
Miche, E., (1996), “Approche modulaire de l’organization polyphonique dans une discourse parlamentaire genevois”. Cahiers de linguistique francaise 18, 95-125.
Perrin, Laurent. 1995. “Du dialogue rapporté aux reprises diaphoniques”. Cahiers de linguistique française. 16. Université de Genève. p. 211-240.
Roulet, Eddy, (1996) “Une description modulair de l’organization topicale d’un fragment d’entretien”, Cahiers de Linguistique Française 18, 11-32.
Roulet, E,. Filliettaz, L, Grobet, A (2000) “De la liguistique de la langue à l’analyse du discours”. Un modèle et un instrument d’analyse du discours”:11-26.

“My client in this law suit would be the first to outrage if the allegations brought up against him concerning child molestation turned out to be true.” (defence attorney)

1. Background considerations
In The New Rhetoric (Perelman and Olbrechts-Tyteca 1969), argumentation schemes are observed as effective techniques of persuasion by seeking and establishing agreement among interlocutors regarding the acceptability of the argumentative process. Such agreement-seeking is in accord with the speaker’s orientation at prospective perlocutionary effects to be achieved in the hearer. This very orientation lies in the heart of the psychological faculty of mental-state-attribution too, whose manifestation is the intentional nature of mental events and the intentional relations constituting human communication (cf. Dennett 1987, Komlósi 1996). Argument schemes are considered to be complex mental entities whose validity domains are enlarged by a set of potential adjoining propositions often inducing implicational consequences for sound reasoning. The paper attempts to show that the interplay of these observed faculties inherently contributes to the achievement of agreement among the audience in matters of soundness and acceptability of arguments. It is claimed in my approach to everyday reasoning practices that the intentional orientation inherent in the argumentative schemes ought to be treated as a meta-discursive parameter.
The paper provides fundamental support from contemporary studies of the types of mental operations in dynamic meaning construction in ordinary language use and sets out to apply those mechanisms to argumentation and reasoning practices (see earlier research in Komlósi 2002, 2003, 2006b, Komlósi & Knipf 2005). A central claim of the paper concerns the occurrence of these dynamic mental processes at very different levels and varying complexity of meaning construction: at the levels of lexical construction, conceptual construction, conversation and argument construction alike. The argumentation techniques in the New Rhetoric rest on two principles: association and dissociation. Association consists in unifying elements into a single whole by bringing together elements which previously were regarded as separate. Dissociation consists in letting existing wholes disintegrate by separating elements previously regarded as units.
After an initial analysis of the nature of premises (both explicit and intended ones), the paper distinguishes presumptions (that show audience agreement) and assumptions (that show lack of audience agreement and are in need of further negotiation and confirmation) in order to provide for a case study of presumptive arguments. The main objective of the analysis, however, is to render underlying mental operations widely studied in cognitive disciplines (such as categorization, mapping, selective projection, detachment, association, compression, substitution, counterfactual reasoning, conceptual blending and conceptual integration) to reasoning practices and propose appropriate applications of these mental operations to the study of argumentation, especially argumentation schemes. Observing and acknowledging the mechanisms of integrating various mental spaces (or alternatively conceptual domains) in our everyday mental activities, the paper provides further confirmative evidence for Perelman’s original classification of argumentation schemes (one type producing argumentation based on the structure of reality, another type producing argumentation establishing the structure of reality) with the help of the conceptual apparatus of fit between mental models and reality. Association and dissociation constituting argumentation schemes are regarded as complementary mechanisms (with integrative – disintegrative – reintegrative moves) allowing for flexible and dynamic argument evaluation.

2. Argumentation schemes in reasoning
My interest in studying argumentation schemes increased beyond expectation when I started to realize what a potential the concept of argument scheme revealing the internal relationships within an argument may have for everyday reasoning practices and rational argumentative discourse. It was held for at least a quarter of a century that what The New Rhetoric by Perelman and Olbrechts-Tyteca (1958, 1969) proposed was that argumentation schemes should be observed as effective techniques of persuasion by seeking and establishing agreement among interlocutors regarding the acceptability of the argumentative process. It also offered the taxonomy of argumentation schemes by introducing a level of abstraction to provide for a guideline in understanding the logical ways responsible for the internal combinatorial arrangements of premises inside a single argument, as opposed to argumentation structure that describes the external organization of the various arguments, i.e. the composition of the argument as a whole. However, it is important to see that the situation is more delicate and the phenomenon of argumentation schemes is much more complex: argumentation schemes ought to be conceived of as having a much more challenging nature and a much more complex function than just the taxonomic one (cf. Komlósi 2006a). The revised view on the status of argument schemes appeared in the formulation of (van Eemeren, Grootendorst, Snoeck Henkemans et alii, 1996, p. 19.) as follows:
“Argumentation schemes relate to the kind of relation established in a single argument between its premises and the standpoint the argument aims to justify or refute. Just as logical argument forms, argumentation schemes are abstract frameworks which can have an infinite number of substitution instances. All substitution instances can, of course, be logically analyzed as involving an argument form of the modus ponens-type, but this argument form does not reveal the distinctive features of the various argumentation schemes. (…) An analysis of the argumentation schemes used in a discourse should produce information as to the principles, standards, criteria, or assumptions involved in a particular attempt at justification or refutation.”

If argumentation schemes are used by protagonists as effective techniques of persuasion by seeking and establishing agreement among the interlocutors regarding the acceptability of the argumentative process, then an accurate argument evaluation procedure should be able to spell out the particular principles, criteria or assumptions which are being applied as the distinctive features of argumentation schemes.

I find contemporary ideas in the theory of argumentation and rhetoric, – such as e.g. the fine-grained analysis of argument schemes and strategic maneuvering, – extremely crucial for exploiting the challenging opportunity for a wider understanding of both the way we think and the way we use natural language in our everyday practices of reasoning, arguing and conducting social interaction. In short, it is timely to study the ways we negotiate and construct social reality in a discursive framework (cf. Komlósi 1989, Komlósi & Knipf 1987, Komlósi 2004). A branch of this inquiry is the investigation of the practical, everyday routine of our argumentative practices. I find it appropriate to reconstruct the possible ways arguers interpret implicit arguments with the help of making bridges between implicit premises and inferred conclusions. I want to indicate, specifically, how and by what mechanisms arguers rely on the force of presumptive arguments for generating certainty in their audience in order to positively influence the acceptance of the standpoints by the audience. I claim that a certain subset of presumptive arguments shows characteristics of entrenchment for which I attempt to point out that such types of implicit arguments make it possible for everyday argumentative practices to exploit the effect of conventionalized persuasive power inherent in argumentation. This is another motivation for me to use of the revised concept of argument schemes.

In looking for ways of generating certainty and predictability as a desirable result of discursive behavior, I take the opportunity to look at how we are bound to apply different types of reasoning in certain types of disciplines. I adopt the claims of Nicholas Rescher’s rationality thesis (Rescher 1988) with his notion of the dichotomy in the nature of human inquiry according to which we practice deductively formal reasoning in certain discipline-bound inquiries, however we also pursue dialectically informal types of reasoning secured by the prismatic complexity of reasoning in other types of inquiries.
It is a triviality to observe that scientific activity, much like scholarly activity itself, takes place in a social setting, and is negotiated and validated within the community. Systematic analyses have pointed out that the cultural and conceptual components of scientific inquiries are constituted in social interaction. Social interaction ought to be rational, adaptive, context-sensitive and consensus-oriented. Our social behavior is – to a great extent – symbolic verbal behavior. It is in the context of social interaction that we come to appreciate the dialogical, discursive faculties constitutive of language use. If we acknowledge that the establishment of social reality is intricately related to successful mastering of rational argumentative discourse, we can also be content in accepting that reasoning and argumentative practices in all walks of life are bound to be validated as reliable and coherent.
For such argumentative reliability and coherence, however, we must possess epistemic certainties as premises for our reasoning and argumentation. How certain can we be of these premises? We often challenge other people’s standpoints, we try to persuade them of our views, and sometimes we yield to their views and arguments as well. This is basically the scene for the social construction of meaning. We negotiate, confirm, reject and accept views so that we should feel comfortable holding certain views. We do not like epistemic or cognitive dissonance in the long run, just as we dislike emotional dissonance.

The questions arise: How formal and how rational is our thinking or reasoning? What are the principles that help us select relevant information for constructing meaning? Is our reasoning and argumentation determined by a consistent set of internal norms and axioms? Or else, is our thinking likely to be influenced by context-specific factors, situations, competing alternative solutions, tensions, undecidedness, therefore by varying degrees of acceptability? The answer has to be sought in our reasoning culture. Nicholas Rescher (1988) claims that – depending on the task and the situation – we entertain different attitudes towards acceptability and consistency. For some inquiries we need to possess certainties, for others it is perfectly agreeable to have provisional credibility. Rescher argues that in natural sciences we reason in a deductively valid way from assured premises: thus we apply linearly inferential reasoning. In many walks of the social sciences and the humanities, however, we often apply dialectically cyclic reasoning: we repeatedly reconsider old issues from newly attained points of view. In dialectical reasoning we make assertions that are negated, corrected or rectified by subsequent counter assertions. We can easily see that the notion of proof and refutation/falsification are very different in the natural sciences and in the social sciences. Rescher acknowledges that the human sciences are bound to tackle the prismatic complexity of human thought that is inherently complex and many-sided, that is a matter of inner tension of competing pushes and pulls in varying directions.
Argument schemes reflect the internal organization of individual single arguments by specifying the principles on which the constituent arguments rely for defending the standpoint. Constituent arguments in an argumentation scheme are often implicit, the interpretation of which involves different degrees of inferential mechanisms. Constituent arguments are taken to be propositions that may induce implicational consequences, depending on the intrinsic nature of the propositions: they may entail, presuppose or implicate adjoining propositions.

As mentioned above, argument schemes are considered to be complex mental entities whose validity domains are enlarged by a set of potential adjoining propositions. It is due to these implicational and inferential mechanisms that argument assessment strategies are bound to take into consideration both formal validity between premises and conclusions and plausible inferences and the transmission of acceptance from premises to conclusions.
When we permit plausible inferences and the pragmatic influencing of transmission of acceptance from premises to conclusions, the question arises: Can we still speak of a controlled system of critical discussion? How far does this permissiveness take us away from reasoned argument and critical argument assessment? In light of these questions I want to formulate my aim: I am convinced that with current research in argumentation theory we are in the position to understanding the compatibility of the requirements of formal validity and inferential reasonableness in reasoned argument and critical discussion. I advocate that we need both a logical analysis and a pragmatic analysis to be able to define underlying implicit arguments more truthfully.
Eemeren (2001: 18-19) advocates the pragmatic attitude in argumentation studies which helps to determine the commitments of an arguer by claiming: “The analyst must not only carry out a logical analysis, based on a formal validity criterion, but also a pragmatic analysis, based on standards for reasoned discourse. In the logical analysis, an attempt is made to reconstruct the argument as one that has a valid argument form; in the pragmatic analysis, the unexpressed premise is then more precisely defined on the basis of contextual information and background knowledge.”
My quest for a non-underdetermined notion of pragmatic and contextual information crucial for argument evaluation finds strong support from the pragma-dialectic analysis of unexpressed premises and argument schemes (cf. Gerritsen 2001, Garssen 2001). Gerritsen (2001: 68) for example notes that “When the context is not taken into consideration in a given case, it seems virtually impossible to identify the unexpressed premises. Many theorists have stressed that contextual information is often decisive in making analytical decisions and that the context should therefore be included in our analyses.” This requirement seems to parallel the growing interest in the notion of argument schemes in which the emphasis is not on studying the formal structure of the argument, but rather the study of its generalized content. Some arguments are based on causal relations, other rely on resemblance or analogy, as the case may be for the generalized content to be manifested in the arguments.

2. A brief survey of the classification of argumentation schemes
There is obviously little need, let alone room in this paper to survey the different classifications of argumentation schemes proposed by different scholars (cf. Perelman and Olbrechts-Tyteca 1969, van Eemeren and Grootendorst 1984, Kienpointner 1992, Garssen 2001, 2002, etc.) in detail. My brief recapitulation of the major tenets and the characteristic features the known classifications tend to focus on is meant to throw some light on the complexity of the internal inferential structure represented by argument schemes.
The New Rhetoric (Perelman and Olbrechts-Tyteca 1969) distinguishes argumentation techniques (i) that are based on the principle of dissociation (renouncement of an opinion by introducing a division/differentiation into a concept or elements of an argument regarded as a single entity, though challenging unity by figuring as a source of incompatibilities) and (ii) those based on the principle of association (elicitation of an opinion by introducing a link between elements of an argument that were previously separate, thus promising unity).
Dissociation is a creative technique to show that something (a concept or an argument) is not what it is believed to be, while association is a creative technique to show that something is what it ought to be in virtue of the manner elements are suggested to be related and linked together. The two techniques are not in opposition but rather complementary to each other which actually occur simultaneously in order to be exploited as rhetorical means in argumentation. Argument schemes based on association are general schemes of putting elements of arguments into particular argumentative relation:
(i) quasi-logical relations,
(ii) relations based on the structure of reality and
(iii) relations establishing the structure of reality.
The Pragma-Dialectic Typology of van Eemeren and Grootendorst (1984) looks for argument assessment criteria in terms of rule-compliance and rule-violation by establishing the possible types of link between premises and conclusions. Rule violation can occur when the protagonist is relying on an inappropriate argumentation scheme or is using an appropriate argumentation scheme incorrectly. Van Eemeren and Grootendorst distinguish three main categories of argumentation schemes:
(i) symptomatic argumentation (“token type” with a relation of concomitance between the premises and the conclusion),
(ii) comparison argumentation (“similarity type” with a relation of resemblance) and
(iii) instrumental argumentation (“consequence type” with a causal relation).
Alltagslogik in (Kienpointner 1987, 1992) proposes a relational typology as well in which the possible types of link figure between a warrant and the conclusion in an argumentation scheme. In his typology, Kienpointner distinguishes
(i) warrant-using argumentation schemes (linking already acceptable warrants to conclusions),
(ii) warrant-establishing argumentation schemes (in which inductive argumentation takes place by acknowledging the warrant itself as the conclusion) and
(iii) no-warrant argumentation schemes (in which the conclusion is derived from functions of illustration, analogy or authority).
The Argumentative Practice Approach is taken in (Garssen 2001, 2002) where argument schemes are examined from the point of view of understanding and processing. Garssen reexamines both the pre-theoretical notion and the existing practical notion of the particular relation between premises and standpoints as entertained by the arguers themselves.

3. The case of presumptive arguments
It seems highly relevant to discuss in the analysis of implicational and inferential reasoning practices manifested in argumentation schemes the role of presumptions and presumptive arguments. Presumptive arguments, together with presumptions as particular types of implicitly intended propositions in general, possess a particular force enabling them to function in the argumentation process with a special status. In effect, they represent a unique type of an inference based only in part on evidence related to the truth of the conclusion. It must be seen that the other part of the evidence in the case of a presumptive argument within a given argumentation process is suggested and expected to be derived from the context of the presumption and the pragmatic attitude associated with it.
Presumptive arguments deserve a special attention in our analysis as being arguments inherently sensitive to contextual and pragmatic information for their success as inferences. In argumentative discourse a decisive pragmatic aim of an arguer is to enhance the acceptability of the proposed standpoint. In such a view, a protagonist in an argumentation process who puts forward an argument can be taken to attempt to favorably affect the transfer of acceptance from the premise to the standpoint. The act itself in a holistic perspective is that of convincing the opponent, the outcome of which should be the acceptance of the standpoint by the opponent.
Walton (1996) observes the significance of presumptive reasoning in argumentation and analyzes presuming as a virtual speech act contributing in specific ways to certain kinds of argument schemes. In my analysis I adopt the speech-act-view of Walton’s approach to presumptive inferencing.
According to the Amsterdam School of Argumentation, argumentation is a particular kind of speech event which presupposes an expressed (anticipated or presumed) disagreement. In Anthony Blair’s conception (Blair 2002: 125) “disagreement denotes a lack of complete identity of commitment to some position or standpoint”. This formulation suggests that it is a rather delicate communicative act to get intended or preferred arguments based on suppressed or presumed standpoints across so that they should function as a rival standpoint or position.
With the help of the pragmatic attitude, bridges are made between implicit premises and inferred conclusions. I want to point out how and by what mechanisms arguers rely on the force of presumptive arguments for gaining certainty towards the acceptance of standpoints. I claim that a certain subset of presumptive arguments shows characteristics of entrenchment, thus exploiting an effect of conventionalized persuasive power in argumentation. As Anthony Blair himself claims, his “corrupt use of logic” has the virtue of allowing for the possibility that reasoning might seem to be logical in a sense that it is rational to use it or to accept it, even if its premises do not entail its conclusion.

Rhetorical reasoning, drawing on the rules of informal logic, allows for argument assessment beyond entailment relations (i.e. strict logical implications), thus including different types of implication relations that support the inference making faculties applied in argumentative discourse. It becomes obvious from the literature on argumentative discourse that argument schemes are among the concepts studied intensively by argumentation theorists. Analyzing the potential of argument schemes for argument assessment is a challenge to create a complementary alternative to the formal logical models and their validity norms.
The study of argumentation schemes supports the claim that the architecture of our inferential mechanisms is fairly flexible. This flexibility can be traced in the way The New Rhetoric opts for an extremely relativistic audience-dependence in argumentative discourse. I want to draw some parallel between the philosophy and techniques of The New Rhetoric and recent developments in research on mental operations in terms of conceptual integration.
As we have discussed above, The New Rhetoric envisages two principles in argumentation techniques: association and dissociation. Association means the unification of separate elements into a single whole (bringing elements together), while dissociation disintegrates and separates elements that formed a unit before (disintegrating units in which a concept is differentiated from a host concept it was part of before).
It is easy to see that both association and dissociation are types of re-categorization. Re-categorization requires the rearrangement of constituent elements in a designated unit. In association, one makes a new category by changing the constituents of a category with the help of the notion addition. In dissociation, one makes a new category by changing the constituents of a category with the help of the notion subtraction. In addition to these types of constituent-rearrangement, there can yet be other ways of bringing about new categories. One can, for example, take certain constituents away, but add some new ones to the category at the same time. The constituency of the category would thus be substantially altered. It would, however, still carry some properties of the original category. In fact, there are well-known combinatorical procedures for the rearrangement of constituent elements. In this way, one can talk about categorization, mapping, selective projection, detachment, association, compression, substitution, counterfactual reasoning, conceptual blending and integration. These mental operations are used in concept structuring and in argument structuring alike.

Conceptual integration as a cover term for a variety of mental operations responsible for tangible constructs used in verbal interaction has become widely used in the conceptual and methodological framework of mental space operations (cf. Fauconnier & Turner 2002). In the tradition of mental space operations and conceptual integration, many concepts are seen to have a flexible and even temporary nature since the way an entity is to be categorized on any specific occasion is very much a function of the concerns of the speaker, the purpose of the communication, and the conceptual model constructed and established by negotiation in prior linguistic acts. If some concepts may have flexible and temporary interpretations that depend on the pragmatic parameters of use, linguistic forms representing these concepts should also be interpreted in flexible ways. Flexible interpretations closely link up with the concept of dynamic meaning construction. Linguistic creativity and our capacity for language greatly depend on our ability to use a relatively limited inventory of grammatical and lexical forms to prompt for virtually unlimited ranges of cognitive representations. While lexical listing of meaning properties makes use of entrenched storage of idiosyncratic meaning properties in long-term memory, conceptual integration makes use of the combinatorial potentials of lexical items prompting selective projections of mental contents into novel conceptual structures, such as mental spaces or cognitive schemes, argument schemes included. Conceptual integration believes in the creative character of human thinking and linguistic meaning and shows the highly plastic nature of cognition and the various powers of the mind to shape new meanings. Blended mental spaces, for example, are locally constructed scenarios which lack generality, abstractness and stability. These mental spaces are not concrete domains of experience: a generic space is skeletal but emergent construct that is abstracted from phenomenal experience selectively. The most surprising aspect of the conceptual blending program is the study of how conceptual blending systematically compresses vital relations (change, cause-effect, temporal order, counterfactual reasoning, identity) into each other. An over-arching goal of compression through blending is the achievement of human scale in the blended space of the full conceptual integration network.
I want to claim here that there is a highly similar motivation at work, namely a pragmatic attitude behind both (i) the argumentation schemes as reasoning constructs and (ii) figurative, idiomatic, often metaphorical discourse as cognitive constructs. Both are designed to facilitate credibility for the acceptance of standpoints (or proposed meanings) with the help of explicit or implicit premises. Argument schemes, just like blended mental spaces, are emergent, unstable and ephemeral mental constructs whose success as effective means of persuasion greatly depends on contextual factors.

4. A proposed analysis of counter-factual argumentation
In the last part of the paper I make an attempt to illustrate how the mechanism of conceptual integration is exploited by reasoning strategies, especially in counter-factual argumentation. Let us examine the following example in (1):
(1) In France, a sexual affair would not have harmed Clinton.

It should be obvious that the proposition in (1) is assigned a sentence meaning (a linguistic meaning) and several utterance interpretations (an argument, a counter-argument, a criticism of the US presidential law, a criticism of the presidential system in France, a justification, etc.).
The conditional clause calls for a counter-factual interpretation of some possible world WP – in addition to the existing real world WR – whose mental contents could be represented by the following (non-exhaustive) sets:
WP = Clinton is president of France; Clinton has a sexual affair in France; the sexual affair is revealed to the public in France; no harm is caused to the president of France; etc.
WR = Clinton is president of the US; Clinton has a sexual affair in the US; a sexual affair is a private matter in France; a sexual affair is not a private matter in the US; the sexual affair is revealed to the public in the US; harm is caused to Clinton as president in the US; etc.

However, some elements of these mental contents are not merely propositions (i.e. descriptions of states of affairs), they are mental spaces. These mental spaces do interact with each other. Some properties are retained in the original mental space, some other properties are projected into other mental spaces. For example, almost all of Clinton’s personal properties keep being attributed to him, except for the fact that he is the president of France instead of being the president of the US. The fact that he should be speaking French as president of France remains unspecified. Also, both the French and the US presidential systems are retained in the respective worlds. What should be surprising here is that noone can be claimed to entertain clear and separate pictures of WP and WR! Instead, everybody will entertain a smooth operative picture called a blend of the possible and the real worlds. It is very likely that the blended space in this situation would contain generic properties of the French president in the French administration and actual properties of Clinton as an individual with his own morals and behavior, beside containing a lot of arbitrary and contingent properties highly underspecified for the purposes of the blend.

The next example can directly be related to argumentation schemes under discussion.

After allegations against Michael Jackson for child molestation were made, Michael Jackson’s defence attorney claimed:
(2) “Michael would be the first to outrage if the allegations turned out to be true!”

The lawyer’s argument is fallacious due to informal logical flaws in the argument and epistemic and moral contradictions between the possible worlds created by the counterfactual argument which results in the defendant being represented as possessing incompatible properties. Thus, incompatibility ensues between the possible worlds too.
(2a) “Michael would be the first to outrage if …”

This conditional proposition is ambiguous since it permits the interpretation of two different mental states on the part of the defendant. He might be outraged because he, as a law abiding citizen, condemns the act of child molestation as a criminal act (whoever should commit such a crime- in an extreme interpretation even if he did!), or because he knows that the allegations cannot be true as he had not committed the act of child molestation. On the one hand the lawyer’s argument appeals to a “general moral standards” and a “generally shared sense of moral values” which he attributes first and foremost to his client, Michael Jackson. Thus, the lawyer’s claim emphasizes M. J.’s correct moral judgement on the basis of which M. J. finds – beyond any doubt – an act of child molestation reprehensible. On the other hand, there is an interpretation according to which M. J. insists that he knows he has not committee the act he is being accused of, thus he is outraged over a case of injustice against him.

So far there is no interpretational contradiction except for the following ambiguity. There is a presumption that many other people too ought to be attributed the same generally shared sense of moral values according to which child molestation is immoral, therefore it is found reprehensible and is considered a crime generally. The lawyer exploits the conditional proposition (1a) as a rhetorical device to persuade the public that his defendant is “a moral being” with a right sense of moral values, who would condemn the commitment of the criminal act of child molestation even if he himself had committed it. However, in the “real world”, (i.e. in the non-counter-factual world) neither M. J., nor the other people with the shared sense of moral values are outraged as long as the allegations have not been proven.

Thus, the conditional proposition in (2a) brings about several possible worlds in one of which the alleged child molestation indeed had taken place, however the good moral sense of M. J. would make him feel outraged over an immoral criminal deed which he is claimed to condemn. There seems to be no logical contradiction between these possible worlds, however, a contradiction of an epistemic nature does ensue due to the consequences of the full counter-factual argument (2), made complete by (2b):
(1b) “…if the allegations turned out to be true!

The counter-factual conditional brings about another possible world as well – in which the child molestation indeed had taken place and the public are informed about the evidence only to prove the truth of the matter according to which Michael Jackson did commit crime in the form of child molestation. In technical terms, in this possible world the people possess access to the knowledge of the truth of the matter according to which M. J. did actually commit the crime.
Now there is a conflict and a contradiction between the possible worlds due to the different constituting elements for each world. In one case, M. J. is one of the many people who are attributed a shared sense of moral standards according to which child molestation is a crime. In another case, however, M. J. but not the other people, has – necessarily and intrinsically – a privileged access to the truth of the matter all the way through, regardless of the fact whether or not the truth of the matter has been constituted and confirmed by evidence against M. J. by an appropriate body of authority.
The contradiction triggers a feedback to the “real world”: M. J. not only has privileged access to the truth of the matter in the “counter-factual” world, but he also has privileged access to that knowledge in the “real world” as well. Consequently, the choice whether M. J. is outraged or not has nothing to do – logically – with the “counter-factual” world! If his lawyer’s presumption is true according to which M.J. is claimed to be “a moral being”, M.J. should be outraged if the child molestation did indeed take place, since he, M. J. has exclusive access to the knowledge whether or not the criminal act has been committed.

The dilemma that is brought about by the interplay of possible worlds constituted by different parameters is an epistemic and a moral nature, not so much of a logical nature. It is not illogical to assume that someone commits a crime while knowing that this act is to be condemned on general moral standards. It is, however, counter to normal social practice to assume that someone commits a crime while condemning such an act and, at the same time, getting outraged over the commitment of such an act.

For M.J. not being outraged in the “real world” may have different reasons:
(i) the allegations have not been proven,
(ii) he knows that the child molestation he is being accused of has not happened, or
(iii) he knows that the child molestation he is being accused of has happened but he does not consider it an immoral deed, he does not condemn such an act, therefore, he does not find it a criminal act.

Possible worlds are almost identical with an exception of a slight difference, but not much of a difference. – Other things being as close to equal as possible – certain decisive parameters will be different in the comparison (or cross-identification) of possible worlds. The example above of a rhetorical device exploited by a defence attorney is a revealing one for argumentation theorists. Counter-factual argumentation allows for the activation of possible worlds that are almost identical with slight differences that may bring about logical, epistemic or moral conflicts or contradictions. In the present example a fallacious argument seems to have been effective in creating a rhetorical effect with a persuasive power.

5. Conclusion
In my view, Perelman made an innovative move by identifying argumentation schemes on the basis of the combinatorial variation of the arrangements or constellations of premises of a full argumentation. The relativized rhetoric he proposed in The New Rhetoric is highly rhetor- bound, i.e. the argument schemes chosen by the protagonist for argumentation are adaptations of the protagonist to the cognitive and effective states of the partner.
The protagonist and his audience are embraced in a binding by a constructed mental space brought about under the circumstances of dynamic argumentative interaction. This effort is not arbitrary: this is how participants are engaged in creating social reality around themselves. It is a social reality which is consensus-based, interactively controlled and ultimately negotiable. I have attempted to show that persuasion through argumentation and discursive reasoning receives a new status and importance under the presented view: persuasion is a specific interactive skill that is aimed at controlling the social environment and shaping of social reality by the choice of appropriate argument schemes.

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