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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ad number 3:
Steimatzky book chain: “Read more”
Advertising Agency: Shalmor Avnon Amichay / Y&R Interactive Tel Aviv, Israel
Chief Creative Director: Gideon Amichay
Creative Director: Tzur Golan
Creative Team Leader: Amit Gal
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1. Introduction
Argument scholars have articulated a conception of argument skills that can be used to examine the relation of meta-cognitive knowledge to skillful argument use. Walton (1989), for instance, suggests that skillful argument includes proving your own thesis, challenging your opponent’s claim and reasoning, and honestly responding to your opponent’s challenges. Van Eemeren and Grootendorst (2004) believe that to be a reasonable discussant, one should at least defend one’s standpoint with relevant argumentation, applied with appropriate argument schemes, clear formulations and without falsely attributing starting points or unexpressed premises to one’s opponent.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At this conference four years ago, one of my European colleagues began a conversation with the question:  What is your project?  My response – “rhetorical argument” – drew a confused stare and an “Oh!” As I pondered this moment, the texture of modern argumentation studies came to the fore. We are a coalition of approaches and projects, gazing somewhat at the same human phenomenon, but from different perspectives and with different sensitivities. In this coalition, there are groups that we recognize and generally understand regardless of our own interests. There is the pragma-dialectical approach most vibrantly practiced under the influence of those here at the University of Amsterdam. There are the informal logicians spawned principally from philosophy departments in North America. There are the studies of conversational argument applying qualitative and quantitative social scientific methods to understand day-to-day interpersonal argument.  These are three easily identifiable groups.

But those whose work is closest to mine are not so easily captured in a single thought or with a single name. There are those of us who study the history of the theory of argumentation from the classical period to the present. There are those who examine arguments in their historical context, tracing their power to direct social order in particular ways.  There are those who are concerned with the place of argument in political processes, the challenges of the moment in the texture of democratic life, and the improvement of argument’s contributions to the public sphere. In fact, these diverse concerns were arguably the founding agenda of modern argumentation studies. Yet, those pursuing them today often seem to us – at least to my interlocutor at the last conference in Amsterdam – as more intellectual waifs than children of a common and seminal argumentation study. So, my purpose today is to focus, to explain, and to encourage: to provide an account of that parentage; to locate the origins of the commonality in this work; to trace its development to the present day; and to bring its blurry lines into sharper focus; to consider the questions and approaches of rhetorical argument. To accomplish this purpose, I will offer a history, a characterization, and finally a distillation.

1. Rhetoric and Argument
We begin with a history of the relationship between rhetoric and argument. Of course, rhetoric has a long and storied tradition in Western culture. That history traces from humble beginnings in the Greek classical era, through a lofty status as one of the seven liberal arts in the medieval university, and back into relative obscurity. But argument has not always been a part of that history. For a millennium and a half after its classical heights rhetorical theory emphasized elements other than argument. Then, in the 17^th century, the influential Port Royalists formally separated argument from rhetoric, placing the former into the domain of logic. As the enlightenment proceeded that division held. Thus, our story is not of the long history of argument in rhetoric, but of the recent recovery of rhetorical argument. That history must be traced in two phases, pivoting in the 1960s around evolving definitions of rhetoric. In that evolution, rhetorical argument participated in the great intellectual movements of the 20^th century.

By the 1960s, a well rounded study of rhetorical argument had emerged built within the context of neo-Aristotelianism. There were two forces shaping this study. The cultural force shared the movement within American education away from a notion of education as a refining and polishing of human character toward a more practical endeavor. This force had begun in the 19^th century in the United States with the industrial revolution and the Morrill Act, which placed the federal government into the business of encouraging education in technology and agriculture. When the political organization of the American university into departmental divisions picked up steam near the turn of the 20^th century, a revolt began within English departments – the home of language study – championing the practical uses of language over the normative study of literatures. In this move, Aristotle’s Rhetorica (322 b.c.e.) was broadly rediscovered and gave force to the practical study of argument. This was a particularly astute choice in the environment of the day.  Spotlighting Aristotle reached across the divide in pedagogy to the proponents of classical education, and identified rhetoric with the Greek Revival and its celebration of democracy.

Rhetoric is, Aristotle (322 b.c.e) proffered, “the faculty of discerning in every case the available means of persuasion” (1355b). By the early 20th century, departments of English in the United States were beginning to spawn departments of speech or oratory composed of these practicality rebels, and built around practical uses of language. David Zarefsky (1995), in his keynote at this conference in 1994, traced the contribution of this developing discipline to argumentation study. As the 20^th century proceeded, scholars concerned with the practical – both those remaining in English departments and those joining the new departments – developed an interest in rhetoric and Aristotle’s definitions took the lead.

By 1925, William Utterback (1925) noted that all roads to understanding rhetoric led back to Aristotle.  He praised Aristotle not only for his fit to the practical demands of the culture – “The function of rhetoric is to provide the speaker with the tools of his trade” (p. 221) – but also because his method was adaptable to 20^th century intellectual change.  The social sciences were developing at the time, based in admiration for the scientific advances of the early industrial age, and seeking to bring what Stephen Pepper (1942) called a “mechanistic” understanding of human behavior to the practical questions of human activity. Replacing the normative and formal concerns of the earlier age, the mechanistic was marked by analytic methods, that is, the tendency to proceed by dividing things into their parts, exploring each of those parts, and constructing a theory of the relationship among the parts. In addition, this intellectual move focused on the importance of causal chains, particularly those that related to effectiveness.

Utterback (1925) praised Aristotle’s rhetoric for providing a vocabulary to study rhetoric in this fashion. In his account, dichotomies and category systems helped to sort elements of rhetoric. And one of these elements that could be studied was, of course, argument. Argument was conceptualized as that component of the “means of persuasion” denoted as logos. Arguments in turn could be broken into their parts: premises and conclusions. A particularly important dichotomy in this study was that between conviction and persuasion, with argument relating to the former and emotion to the latter. Arguments were understood in terms of their potential effectiveness in practical settings. Rhetorical argument, Utterback noted, was marked by a near-universal model for practical discourse: speakers, seeking to accomplish persuasive purposes, analyzed subjects and audiences.  Based on this intellectual understanding, speakers called upon systems of argument to formulate practical messages seeking to convince others of the truth or goodness of their position. Thus, a facility for argument was located in mental, perhaps even cognitive, processing, with the test of that processing resting in the power of the arguments to effect the convictions and behaviors of others.

Of course, Aristotle’s Organon identified three modes of argument – scientific demonstration, dialectic, and rhetorical argument. But his laying out of the differences among these modes was imprecise enough that the place of the enthymeme – the rhetorical syllogism – and the rhetorical topoi became a convenient inquiry to mature neo-Aristotelian argument. By the 1950s and 1960s, much inquiry was focusing on the meaning of these terms in Aristotle. Because the central thrust of this work was practical, the exploration of argument extended beyond the theory of argument formation to also consider argument as situated in history. Guided by Herbert Wichelns’ “The Literary Criticism of Oratory” (1925), scholars of rhetorical argument studied the great arguments of history and how their use by great men effected the course of history.

By the 1960s a substantial volume of scholarship had accumulated around neo-Aristotelian argument. Wiley (1956), Bitzer (1959), Mudd (1959), Walwick (1960), Fisher (1964), Aly (1965), and Chronkite (1966) had built on the seminal work of James McBurney (1936) to explore the enthymene. Characteristic patterns of proof – neo-Aristotelian versions of Aristotle’s topics – had been developed and described.  Standard histories of influential speakers and writers had been written with attention to their important and powerful arguments, most notably in the three volume set on The History and Criticism of American Public Address edited by Brigance (1943) and Hochmuth (1955). In addition to these intellectual moves, well developed pedagogical systems for teaching neo-Aristotelian argument had developed in departments of English and speech in American universities, particularly in the land grant universities established by the Morrill Act as homes for practical education.

2. A Second Tradition
But there is a critical point of change in our historical narrative. Near mid-century, the dominance of the mechanistic perspective on human behavior began to tease out lively alternatives. By the 1970s the so-called “linguistic turn” had reoriented the study of human activity. The linguistic turn emphasized the centrality of language in understanding and action, thus placing language acts at the center of inquiry. Quite literally, the linguistic construal of context became the central process in which humans related themselves to the world around them. The resulting spread of what Pepper (1942) called “contextualism” through intellectual circles from philosophy through social science and into the humanities turned the attention of those studying the powers of language from mechanical effectiveness to organizing perception and action. Cultures were shaped in the performance of language. Patterns of power were instantiated through the perceptual and volitional possibilities of language forms.

A broad range of intellectual disciplines now turned to understand the powers of language. Certainly Wittgenstein’s ideas about language were key to the linguistic turn, but so also were those in the movements known as structuralism and post-structuralism. The interaction between European and American interest in rhetoric became a fruitful and complex dialogue of influences. Even the term “rhetoric,” still more likely to be embraced as a key term in North America than in Europe, became current on the continent after Perelman and Olbrechts-Tyteca (1958) subtitled their 1958 book A New Rhetoric.[i] 

As the linguistic turn energized rhetorical studies, definitions of rhetoric began to change. The powers of rhetoric were drawn more broadly in a definition that defined rhetorical study as concerned with “the relationship between language and social order.”  Language under mechanistic ways of thinking was referential: words were assumed to re-present some aspect of non-linguistic reality, and the manipulations of language were judged by their correspondence to manipulations of this non-linguistic world. But after the linguistic turn, contextualist ways of thinking viewed the possibilities and powers of language as shaping human interaction with the world. As opposed to the analytic inquiry of mechanism, the synthetic inquiry of contextualism sought to understand how language’s power to construct context through the assertiveness of text enacted environment into human consciousness and action.[ii]

From the perspective of this broadened view of rhetoric, the inventional process merged many forces drawn from biography and society into a socially meaningful discursive action. Human symbolic exchange replaced the mental processes of strategic design at the center of rhetoric. To this exchange, each participant brought a biography of particular and shared interests and capabilities. The exchange filtered and shaped these into a socially coordinated texture of understanding and action. Argument performed negotiation within this exchange, adapting understanding to circumstances, and participants to understandings, that together guided action (Bryant, 1953).

Obviously, such a move dramatically altered the place of rhetorical argument. The sociolinguistic power of argumentative form to influence ongoing human activity was unmistakable. To be sure, these strands in rhetorical argument predated the linguistic turn by decades. As early as 1917, Mary Yost (1917) had authored “Argument from the Point-of-view of Sociology” in which she argued, “Argument as we read and hear it and use it every day is directly and fundamentally communication between members of a social group, a society in the sociological meaning of the term” (113). In the old dichotomous thinking of the time, Yost was rejecting argument’s association with analytic logic in favor of a practical effectiveness. Yet, the emphasis on the social group as a context for argumentative power was to become a key to understanding the linguistic turn. In 1947, Ernest J. Wrage’s (1947) “Public Address: A Study in Social and Intellectual History” had emphasized that the power of argument to evolve ideas was a vital creative force driving historical change.  By 1963, Karl R. Wallace’s (1963) “The Substance of Rhetoric: Good Reasons” had fixed the motivational qualities of rhetoric in their sociolinguistic force rather than their referential power. During the same time period, Perelman and Olbrechts-Tyteca (1958/1969) had grounded a rhetoric – still mechanical and concerned with effectiveness in many ways – in social contexts. And Stephen Toulmin had written The Place of Reason in Ethics (1950) and The Uses of Argument (1958) which together made the case for grounding the motivational powers of human language in cultural contexts. This developing European thought had infiltrated American thinking on rhetorical argument by the 1960s. By the time Robert L. Scott (1967) declared rhetoric to be a “way of  knowing” in 1967, the linguistic turn was well established in rhetorical argument.

Thus, the two great intellectual movements of the 20^th century – mechanism and contextualism – had spawned two understandings of rhetoric. These two interpretations were not inconsistent, but related from the more narrowly defined neo-Aristotelianism with its analytic patterns and practical concern for effectiveness, to the more general definition of the linguistic turn, highlighting the synthetic power of rhetoric to transform human experience into social activity.

3. Today’s Study of Rhetorical Argument
Now, let me turn from this narrative history of the perspective of rhetorical argument to characterize the disparate research I pointed to earlier – seemingly unfocused forays by theorists, historians and critics associated with the rhetorical tradition. If I have achieved my purpose to this point, my account of the evolution of rhetorical study with the shifting intellectual forces of the 20^th century will indicate the generative coherence of research in rhetorical argument. So, a survey of research tracing to the influences of the tradition is in order.

Many studies today are motivated by a belief that the neo-Aristotelian project remains incomplete: we are learning ever more about the pragmatic effort to invent arguments that will effectively influence others. Indeed, our interest in a historical and useful understanding of Aristotle’s thinking on argument remains alive. Particularly active in the last few years, especially among European classicists, is work to better understand the topics as an approach to rhetorical argument. Interest in reinvigorating Aristotle’s distinction between demonstration, dialectic, and rhetorical argument remains an active pursuit. But our efforts to develop ways of thinking through the strategic, pragmatic problem of invention has extended attention beyond Aristotle to theorists from our own time. David Frank’s recent conference on the work of Chaïm Perelman and the Ontario Societies’ conference on the work of Stephen Toulmin (Hitchcock, 2005; Hitchcock & Verheij, 2006) deepened our appreciation of the potential of those 20^th century theorists.  No doubt Toulmin’s recent death will spur retrospectives that will add to our facility with his working logic.

Our theoretical work has not, however, only attempted to round out the theory of the giants of the neo-Aristotelian project. Pursuit of a better understanding of pragmatic argument has extended to new theoretical work. Most noteworthy among these new approaches is the effort to account for the pragmatic power of visual argument. I would also be remiss if I were not to acknowledge the active project of incorporating the work of informal logicians, the findings of experimental scholars, and the implications of the pragma-dialectical approach of the Amsterdam school into the advice we provide to arguers inventing discourse. The neo-Aristotelian’s vision of effective arguers achieving their defined purposes by formulating arguments after a structured analysis of subject matter and audience remains a primary concern of rhetorical argument.

The pragmatic power of argument has always animated the work of historians who have featured its contribution in biographies of leaders and accounts of political change. Today, our historians continue to document the pragmatic power of effective argument in these contexts. US presidents have been a favorite, a focus no doubt stimulated by general academic interest in the rhetorical presidency during the late 20^th century. But recent work has extended the focus of leadership beyond the obvious target of the head of state, and beyond the American head of state. I would point particularly, for example, to Kelly Carr’s (2010) recent study of Justice Lewis Powell’s invention of diversity as a legal value in the Bakke decision of the United States Supreme Court. Other studies have extended to strategies employed by corporate businesses in encountering the challenges of business life.  James Wynn’s (2009) recent study of Darwin’s use of inductive argument illustrates the line of work in scientific argument. This research has established a firm record of the importance of rhetoric in historical development in many venues of life. In the process it has also enriched the theoretical understanding of how arguers go about achieving pragmatic goals.

But as the definition of rhetoric broadened with the linguistic turn the late 20^th century, historians of argument have also altered their project. Taking the view of Ernest Wrage (1947), these scholars have moved beyond the documentation of effectiveness to document the cultural evolution of argumentative forms. I believe one of the most underappreciated but important documents in rhetorical studies in the 20^th century was The Prospect of Rhetoric, the report of the 1970 National Developmental Conference on Rhetoric. The report of the Committee on Invention took a notably Wragean perspective calling for understanding “the processes of change and habituation which constitute” life, and finding the key to that understanding in “a generative theory of rhetoric” (Bitzer & Black, 1971, p. 230). The most noteworthy early work in this line of inquiry may have been John Angus Campbell’s (1970) essay on Darwin’s development of the evolutionary argumentative form. Campbell traced how Darwin synthesized strains of old form into a new way to structure scientific and popular thought. The argumentative form that Darwin loosed on the world – an evolution driven by natural variety and mechanisms of selection – has carried beyond biology into multiple aspects of life. For example, I call upon the form quite literally in my recent work on argumentative ecology (Klumpp, 2009). Campbell’s interest in science as a domain of argumentative power was a focus of Toulmin’s later work (1972) and the POROI group (Project on the Rhetoric of Inquiry) centered at the University of Iowa whose work has been prominent at our conferences.

But the influence of the Wragean notion that the ideas that drive history are a product of culturally authorized argumentative form has animated our historians of argument beyond the sciences.  Robert Ivie’s interest in the motivations for war led him to track the characteristic arguments with which American presidents call for war. More broadly his book Dissent from War (2007) critiques the argumentative form that justifies war. Another important cluster of work in this tradition has studied the development of nationalistic and democratic form in Central and Eastern Europe since the revolutions of 1988-90.

The detailed catalogs of arguments by the great arguers of the past that characterized the neo-Aristotelian studies in The History and Criticism of American Public Address (Brigance, 1943; Hochmuth, 1955) helped to establish an historical record of success and leadership, and suggested to theorists the patterns of invention that characterized consequential argument. Historical work within the newer definitions of rhetoric has emphasized a kind of social history in contrast to the “great man” history of the neo-Aristotelians. Their histories of the evolution and power of justification complexes project the central role that their perspective gives to argumentative forms in defining cultures. The evolutionary dynamic at the heart of this approach to rhetorical argument places this study near the center of modern intellectual history.

Another characteristic focus of scholarship in rhetorical argument through the neo-Aristotelian era and since is the importance of the public sphere. Christian Kock (2009) recently argued that the essential characteristic of rhetorical argument is its domain: “issues of choice in the civic sphere” (77). He traced this influence through classical rhetorical theory and down into contemporary times. Kock’s emphasis on the venue of argument owes much to the neo-Aristotelian impulse. Indeed, as I have argued, one of the reasons that Aristotle was the favored figure in early work in rhetorical argument was his connection to Greek democracy in the polis, or as Kock calls it “the civic sphere.”

But the most energetic work in the public sphere followed the linguistic turn.  Focusing on the public sphere as a context that placed demands on argument posed different trajectories of inquiry. When the contextualist view on politics began to ask about the quality of participation in democratic social order, rhetorical argument began a necessary exploration of the place and form of argument in the democratic context. Indeed, beside Perelman and Toulmin, the third great European intellectual who has most influenced the study of rhetorical argument is Jürgen Habermas. Habermas began his work as a historian and critic in The Structural Transformation of the Public Sphere (1962/1989) and The Legitimation Crisis (1973/1975). His history illustrated the usefulness of a new contextualist vocabulary to characterize communication in democracies. But the theory that animated his history turned from more generally rhetorical to explicitly argumentative in his Theory of Communicative Action (1981/1984, 1987). That work also turned from an historical project to a normative one. In rhetorical argument, Tom Goodnight’s (1982) adaptation of Habermas differentiated the personal, technical, and public spheres of argument. This separation became germinal, perhaps because it posed most forcefully the tension between a pragmatic and the more general definitions of rhetoric that were marking the emergence of newer rhetorical concerns. His distinction charted the need to make that transition to normative study of the public sphere.

Habermas’ public sphere also became important because criticisms of his work were extremely fruitful in turning normative ideas about the public sphere into critical treatments of argumentative practice within the contemporary world. By the time the influence of Habermas’ public sphere had worked its way through rhetorical argument, a vast literature sought to understand modern public argument as a social practice. Theoretically, there has been much development, most thoroughly in Gerald Hauser’s (1999) Vernacular Voices, and most recently in Robert Asen’s (2004) search for “a discourse theory of citizenship.”

Critical work since Habermas has been decidedly normative, suggesting that contemporary argumentative praxis comes up short when evaluated against democratic theory (Tannen, 1998). Concern for the breadth of meaningful participation in argument has been primary. But in addition, particular characteristics of modern argumentative form – highlighted by Goodnight’s (1982) focus on the public sphere and Walter Fisher’s (1987a, 1987b) idea of narrative rationality – have spawned considerable critical normative work seeking to improve democratic practice.

The linguistic turn dictated, however, that not all critical work in the public sphere would be normative. One of the accomplishments of the linguistic turn was to transform criticism from an objective, distanced, normative evaluation of rhetoric into an active force in socio-political dialogue. Students of rhetorical argument have responded by overtly offering critique to correct or improve argument within the public sphere. The United States government’s adventure in Iraq in the early 21^st century presented an obvious argumentative morass that reopened many of the questions about deliberative argument and war-making in modern democratic states. For example, my 2005 keynote at the Alta Conference (2006) drew on the Iraq experience to critique the failure to attend to questions of veracity within argumentation theory.

The theoretical, historical, and critical work with the democratic public sphere carried the initial interest of the neo-Aristotelians – citizens governing through argument – into contemporary interest in the power of argumentative form to embody democratic participation. Because argumentative form was viewed as structuring democratic praxis beyond pragmatic decision, the scope of criticism expanded with the definition of rhetoric: who argues, the structural limits on the power of their argument, the appropriate subjects of democratic argument, the quality of argument performed in the argumentative structure, all moved into the purview of rhetorical argument.

This expansive view of the public sphere hints at the final type of study that has become a part of contemporary inquiry in rhetorical argument. Contemporary rhetorical theory’s view that argumentative forms provide a structure of justification for social practice has turned critics to consider that productive power. Absorbing the sensitivities of cultural studies, justificatory implication has become a way to assess the qualities of the argumentative relationships reproduced through performance of argumentative form. Thus, the power of justification highlighted by this expansive view of the public sphere becomes diffused throughout social arrangements in the culture. Michel Foucault’s studies of the praxis of discourse formation, particularly Discipline and Punish (1975/1977), Birth of the Clinic (1963/1973), and History of Sexuality, (1976/1978) has influenced this work.  Raymie McKerrow’s (1993) focus on cultural approaches in the 1993 Alta conference he directed has facilitated the development of this line of research. Ron Greene’s (for example, 2002, 2003) recent work illustrates this interest. It is the justificatory power of argumentative form, founded in revisionary precepts of contemporary contextualist rhetorical theory that have turned students of rhetorical argument toward these diverse interests.

4. The Commitments of Rhetorical Argument
I hope this very brief survey of the variety of studies that compose rhetorical argument has succeeded in seating that variety in the evolving perspective on rhetoric as the intellectual movements of the 20^th century unfolded. But beyond the characterization of these relationships I promised a distillation of the common intellectual commitments, born of that history, that unite this work from the Neo-Aristotelians to the postmoderns.  I believe the commitments can be distilled to three. First,  rhetorical argument recognizes that arguments are per-formed in language. In saying this, we are emphasizing that the power of argument lies not in the correspondence of word-maps with underlying non-linguistic reality, but in deploying the resources of language to negotiate human influence on the environment.  This commitment highlights that argument calls upon the resources of language to invent culturally adapted forms through which it transforms human experience into intellectual and volitional influence. Arguments transform experience into a constructed, meaningful context, and in that ordering of experience humans take their place as players in shaping environment. It is in this way that argument is a source of human power.  Thus, this commitment originates the study of rhetorical argument in the potentialities and performance of language.

The second commitment follows: argument inherently engages the social.  Humans do things with other humans in a complex dance of reasons and justifications that shape the world and their relationships with others. The social context manifests many dimensions – the cultural, political, historical, even rhetorical tradition – but whatever the highlighted social context, the tradition of rhetorical argument depicts argument grounded in an awareness of, and ultimately achieving, social connectivity. Argument is performed within this connectivity. Thus, the power exercised in argument is at once instrumental and social, one and inseparable. Through argument humans array the power of their language to accomplish their interaction with their environments, material and social.

The third commitment structures our inquiry: rhetorical argument is an observable and consequential activity. We can see it, read it, hear it.  Rhetorical argument is neither a mere window into the mind nor the soul.  It is manifest in human activity. Humans use argument to form the texture of human interaction with each other and with the world around them. The capacity for language entails the unique human capacity to relate to others and to nature through complex argument. Understanding this capacity conceptually and pragmatically requires theoretical, historical, and critical insight. Those working in rhetorical argument do that work.

These commitments orient the way. There is an empiricism of experience as the starting point, with sensitivities to the resources of language and their powers to manifest reasons and justifications in social praxis. The neo-Aristotelians champion the arguer and his or her power to wield influence through this complex. Those influenced by the linguistic turn see the power as more diffuse in cultural processes and social activity. But all focus our study on human use of language to shape activity within society through the power of reason and justification. We believe that taken together the diverse studies in which we engage as we study argument in this way will provide us a well rounded understanding of a fundamental human activity.

5. Rhetorical Argument in the Context of Argumentation Studies
One of my students at Maryland with whom I shared my project for this keynote responded: “Oh, you are doing identity work.” Well, perhaps. For certain, I hope to provide a more vivid recognition of “rhetorical argument” and to encourage others to acknowledge the importance of rhetorical argument in argumentation studies. But my purpose is more than just acknowledgment.

All of us working in argumentation studies today are blessed with a structure of reporting our research that provides a vital circulatory system. We have two wonderful journals that anchor our work, Argumentation and Advocacy, and Argumentation. Other journals supplement these two including Controversia, Informal Logic, and several forensics journals in the United States. This list could be far longer. We have multiple conferences that regularly bring us together for interaction including this conference, the Alta conference, the Wake Forest conference, the OSSA conference, the Tokyo conference.  I have no doubt left out some that I should have recognized. We have a well established book series in Europe, although we still lack one in North America. The volume of work we have produced in these outlets has encouraged our experimentation with the limits of our study. Indeed, it makes singling out authors a chancy practice in a presentation like this.

It is the vitality of argumentation study that we should all take great pride in. And an important part of that vitality is how we reach across our identities to encounter each other’s work. When van Eemeren and Houtlosser (2000) reach out to incorporate rhetorical issues in their pragma-dialectical project, when Christopher Tindale (1999) reaches out to center his work on rhetorical concerns, when Dale Hample frames precepts of rhetorical theory into experimental hypotheses to refine our understanding of argumentative processes, it testifies to the vitality of our research venues.

And I believe that truly valuing each other’s interests entails a fulsome appreciation for the depth of intellectual heritage that establishes identity. So, that has been my purpose today:  to trace that intellectual heritage of rhetorical argument. I have sought to identify the common origins and interests of those who work in rhetorical argument; to trace the diachronic track that evolved rhetorical argument through the 20^th and into our own century; to see the linkages of the key intellectual movements of the 20^th century to that work and how today those movements provide ample roots to turn the diversity of our work from cacophony to symphony. And, yes, were I to repeat that conversation at this conference about what my project is, I would hope that I have created the tapestry from which my interlocutor and I would find that my response “rhetorical argument” would fruitfully carry us into a conversation for a luncheon rather than for pastry and tea.

Christopher Tindale has it about right. To make a society, people argue. They give reasons; they attempt to set each other right. They urge particular interpretations; they attempt to motivate each other to act. As they do this, cultures acquire their character, for good or ill.  They progress in dealing with the circumstances of their shared lives, or they fail. They make choices that evolve their day-to-day activities, and create their histories.  The relationship between humans as creators and users of symbols and the social practices that define their political, social, and cultural activities captures our gaze. Whether framed as the pragmatic skills of arguers seeking influence or the justificatory power of culturally constructed and reproduced argumentative forms, whether pursued theoretically, historically, or critically, these interests have carved rhetorical argument into the texture of our research in productive and lasting ways.

NOTES
[i] Tellingly when the English translation by Wilkinson and Weaver was published in 1969 it reversed the title and subtitle acknowledging the greater currency of rhetoric in North America.
[ii] Although the linguistic turn was a very broadly based movement, many rhetoricians taking the turn in North America were heavily influenced by Kenneth Burke. Yet, Burke’s relationship to argumentation theory has not been an obvious one. In introducing a special issue of Argumentation and Advocacy entitled “Dramatism and Argumentation,” guest editor Donn W. Parson (1993) observed, “‘Finding’ a theory of argument, or positions that inform argument theory, [in Burke’s work] will be an inferential process, and the work may be that of a detective” (146). That special issue explored the relationship between Burke and argumentation theory in some depth, highlighting the relationships of language and social order. In doing so, it may provide an interesting case study on how the evolution of rhetorical theory alters the study of argument after the linguistic turn.

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1. Issues
What is the argumentative intention of using Japanese words in foreign contexts? Prior to the 1990s, traditional Japanese words known in France consisted of geisha, samouraï, sushi, etc. In the 1990s, when Japanese popular culture such as mangas, extravagant street fashions, and video games, was imported to France and other countries, the term kawaii started to appear in French media. In our paper, which focuses on the traditional Japanese word geisha and the recently appearing Japanese word kawaii and classifies the two words as xenism or peregrinism, we examine the argumentative functions used in contemporary French national newspapers Le Figaro (conservator), Libération (left), and Le Monde (centre-left), published from 1995 to 2008.[i] How is each word used as an argumentative device? Are there differences in the argumentative functions of the two words? Or are these functions similar?

2. The Foreign Words Geisha and Kawaii in French Context
72 Japanese words appear in the French Dictionary CD-ROM of Le Petit Robert 2008, of which 69 words are nouns and 3 words are nouns and adjectives: nippon, zen, and kamikaze. Geisha appears in this dictionary, but kawaii does not.

The French dictionary Le Robert dictionnaire historique de la langue française indicates that the term geisha was ‘firstly Gallicised as guecha (1887) [in the novel Madame Chrysanthème by Pierre Loti], and it was rewritten as geisha (1889) according to the transliteration of the Japanese word.’ The term geisha is traditionally known in France; Geisha means ‘Japanese singer and dancer who is rented for certain meetings and amuses the men with her conversation, her music, and her dance.’

We must also explore how geisha is used in France today. For example, the book Idées reçues: Le Japon (Fixed ideas: Japan) indicates that ‘a woman is submissive to men and to her husband,’ which is one of the famous fixed ideas regarding Japan. Japon des Japonais (Japan of the Japanese) also shows that ‘the Japanese woman makes one part of our phantasm to the Orient. To oriental women’s sensuality, she (Japanese woman) adds a little submission to the desire of a man (Pons & Souyri. 2002, pp. 69-70). Japanese women have often been described as the embodiment of the “Orient as phantasm,” the most famous representative of which is the geisha.

According to the second Japanese-French dictionary, Petit Royal (Oubunsha), the term kawaii is translated as mignon (cute), gentil (kind), adorable (adorable), and joli (beautiful). This adjective is considered a key word that represents Japanese popular culture. According to the sixth edition of Kojien, The Dictionary of the Japanese Language, the definition of kawaii is ‘pitiful, poor; must love, feel deep affection; small and beautiful.’ Recently, the utilisation of kawaii is frequent in Japanese women’s magazines to appreciate the “immature” or the childish, describing in particular decorative taste, which is one of the two principal aesthetics in Japan, the other being minimalism. In a contemporary Japanese context, this term is primarily reserved for girls, who are considered weak in a macho society, to qualify any object without distinction (from any fashion style to emperor behaviour) (Koga 2009, pp. 202-215; Yomota 2006, p.10).

The terms geisha and kawaii are foreign words that are used as xenism and peregrinism. According to Dictionnaire de linguistique,
The distinctions between a xenism and a peregrinism allow us to take into account the usage of certain words: a xenism is a foreign word mentioned with reference to a linguistic code of origin and to foreign realities. A peregrinism reflects foreign realities, but its meaning is understood by the interlocutor,[ii] (Debois, Mathée, Gespin, Marcellesi, Marcellesi & Mével, 2001, p. 512)[iii]

Thus, we will examine how the terms geisha and kawaii as xenism and peregrinism are used as argumentative devices in our corpus.

3. Argumentative Functions of Xenism and Peregrinism
As our hypothesis, there are three types of argumentation concerning the usage of foreign words. The first is persuasion concerning the construction of meaning of a loaned neologism; the second, construction of the effect of reality for a text in which the foreign word is used; and third, construction of connivance, in particular, of derision.

3.1. Argumentation via Xenism: Construction of the Meaning of a Loaned Neologism with a Gloss or Definition
As we mentioned, a xenism is used with its gloss or definition. Using a xenism signifies that the gloss of xenism will be a translation or an explanation. For the interlocutor, this term is not yet familiar; he/she has not yet acquired common knowledge concerning this subject. But does this gloss – a translation or an explanation – objectively reflect its actual definition? Could a definition be manipulated not to present the word objectively?

A definition, according to Philippe Breton, could be considered an argumentation of framework; the meaning of the new reference is constructed through some argumentation devices such as “framework” – a description emphasising one side, underestimating the other side. He also says that this manipulation is realised through an authority, which can be a “specialist,” someone with “experience,” or a “witness” as an author’s ethos (Breton 1996, pp.44-45).

On the one hand, since xenism permits the speaker to construct his ethos, his self-image as a specialist in current Japanese culture shows his individual and subjective judgment on this xenism through the gloss. The gloss, or ‘translation, which is presented as pure explanation, does in reality give only one biased idea of [the] sense of the word in the loaned language’ (Steuckardt and Honoré 2006, p. 3). That is, the gloss would permit one to construct a subjective idea as objective.

This type of argumentation is realised when a foreign word appears with its gloss, a subjective definition, as a xenism. In our corpus, we could not find the xenism of geisha, which is in the company of its gloss because, for over 100 years since the first apparition of this term in a French context, it has become traditionally popular; it is not necessary to use a translation or an explanation. So, the argumentation of framework by means of a definition must occur immediately after a new word appears.

3.2. Kawaii as xenism: Gloss in apposition and implicit judgment
The term kawaii qualifies objects related to Japanese culture with a gloss in apposition, which is a definition or a “literal” translation. The gloss[iv] most commonly used for this term is mignon (“cute,” “sweet,” or “kind” in English).
(1) “An incarnation of the kawaii (mignon) culture and a cure for loneliness, dogs number 13 million in Japan today”
(Incarnation de la culture kawaii (mignon) et remède contre la solitude, les chiens sont aujourd’hui 13 millions au Japon.)
(Le Figaro Magazine, 03/24/2007).

(2) This Japanese [Takashi Murakami], who conquers contemporary art with his pop art mixed with Nippon naivety, presents to Paris a panorama of Japanese youth, a happy hodgepodge where the taste known as kawaii (mignon in Japanese) predominates (Ce Japonais [Takashi Murakami], qui a conquis l’art contemporain avec son pop-art mâtiné de naïveté nippone, présente à Paris un panorama de la jeune création japonaise, joyeux fourre-tout où prédomine le goût prononcé pour le kawaii (mignon, en japonais).
(Libération, 07/04/2002).

Here, each object that the term kawaii qualifies is related to Japan, such as dogs in Japan (1) and the popular art of Takashi Murakami (2). That is, the term qualifies the adorable domestic animals or popular culture. Used in this way, kawaii designates things that are not concerned with small animals or popular culture. It appears from these examples that such a gloss is a literal translation, but this is not always the case:

(3) In spite of the coldness and rain, Roppongi Hills, the chic district of Tokyo, had its big opening night party. The two stars of the film, Kirsten Dunst and Tobey Maguire, were welcomed by « kawaii » (trop (very) mignon in Japanese) by hundreds of fans. (MALGRÉ le froid et la pluie, Roppongi Hills, le quartier chic de Tokyo, avait son air des grands soirs de fête. (…)Les deux stars du film, Kirsten Dunst en tenue évanescente en chiffon rose et Tobey Maguire, ont été accueillies par des « kawaii » (« trop mignon » en japonais) par des centaines de fans)

(Le Figaro, Le Figaro Économie, 4/17/2007).

(4) The cosplayers must know the characters that they interpret well (their attitudes,their gestures, etc.), so they must have read [the manga’s] “biography” (…) he must be able to integrate some Japanese terms into his vocabulary. Examples: gomen, which signifies “pardon”; kawaii, which signifies “mignon, adorable”[…].
(Le cosplayeur doit bien connaître le personnage qu’il interprète (son attitude, ses gestes), donc il doit avoir lu sa « biographie » (les mangas).[…] il doit pouvoir intégrer quelques termes japonais à son vocabulaire. Exemples : gomen qui signifie « pardon, désolé », kawaii qui veut dire « mignon, adorable » […].)
(Le Figaro, 02/28/2007).

(5) […] an illustrator working in Japan, she knows how to mix kowai and kawaii, horror and feebleness.
([…] une illustratrice travaillant au Japon, elle sait mêler kowai et kawaii, horreur et mièvrerie)
(Libération, 02/13/2008).

In extract (3), kawaii and its gloss describe the reaction of Japanese supporters of a foreign actress visiting in Japan. In extract (4), kawaii is introduced as a Japanese word qualifying the “cosplay” of manga characters. In extract (5), it is used as one of the characteristics of Japanese animations, of which the other is “horror.” Concerning the gloss, the translation mignon is accompanied by the adverb expressing the excessive quantities trop (“too much” in English) or très (“very” in English) as the familiar language in extract (4) or by the adjective “adorable” in extract (5). Kawaii is also translated as mièvrerie (“feebleness” in English), a substantive with a negative nuance. The first 2 glosses have positive connotations, but the last one has a negative connotation. Thus, the gloss is not a literal translation but a mark of the subjective judgment of the locutor.

3.3. Xenisme kawaii bringing explicit comments in the form of definition
Sometimes, not only is the gloss apposition attached to the term kawaii, but also a certain subjective explanation/interpretation of the locutor. We will look at some examples.

(6) The violence is certainly one of the characteristics of Japanese cartoons and video games. Pokemon belongs to another vein: the cult of kawaii, which is “mignon”. The word which signifies a little sickly sentiment of affection which aroused a child or a small animal became, as like “cute” in Anglo-American, the password of the imaginary world of Nippon youth.
(La violence est certes l’une des caractéristiques de l’univers de la bande dessinée et des jeux vidéo japonais. Les Pokémon relèvent d’une autre veine : le culte du kawaii,  qui est ” mignon “. Le mot qui signifie le sentiment d’affection un peu mièvre que suscite un enfant ou un petit animal est devenu, comme ” cute ” en anglo-américain, le mot de passe du monde imaginaire de la jeunesse nippone.)
(Le Monde, 12/17/1999).

The gloss first cites a translation of the term mignon. A further explanation is as follows: “the sentiment of affection aroused by a little sickly child or a small animal” and “the password of the imaginary world of the Nippon youth.” The objects that this term qualifies delimit this word, defined with regard to children or small animals.

(7) His [Takashi Murakami’s] work borrows especially from the aesthetics of Manga and the culture of kawaii (in other words, mignon). He plays on two perverted and reassuring tensions. Following the example of Walt Disney, he invents his own characters, such as Mr. Dob, a kind of Mickey Mouse, who is sometimes ferocious and ironic, and sometimes sickly.
(Son [Takashi Murakami] œuvre emprunte surtout à l’esthétique du manga et à la culture du kawaii (autrement dit ce qui est mignon). Il joue de fait sur deux tensions, perverse et rassurante. A l’instar de Walt Disney, il invente ses propres personnages, comme Mr. Dob, une sorte de Mickey tantôt féroce et ironique, tantôt mièvre.)
(Le Monde, 10/23/2006).

(8) KAWAII. The expression kawaii which signifies mignon in Japanese, and is borrowed from the exposition of Takashi Murakami at the Cartier Foundation, has become the gimmick (…), which also appreciates all the acid and false manga’s ingenuous aesthetic.
(KAWAII. L’expression kawaii qui signifie mignon en japonais, empruntée à l’exposition de Takashi Murakami à la Fondation Cartier, est devenue le gimmick des modeux qui apprécient aussi toute l’esthétique acidulée et faussement ingénue des mangas.)
(Le Figaroscope,10/23/2002).

In the extract (7), with the gloss mignon (cute in English), the culture of kawaii is presented as one of the sources of imagination for Japanese artist Takashi Murakami. In this extract (8), the term kawaii is explained by means of the signification mignon and by its origin in the exposition of Takashi Murakami. The signification “the acid aesthetic and false ingenuous of manga,”, which is far from the sense of kawaii diffused in Japan, is added to the adjective kawaii.

(9) He [Matsumoto] mixes the perverted cute of kawaii with his habitual ruffled character, the costumes of an eclectic folklore, and the idempotent architecture.
(Il [Matsumoto] mélange le mignon pervers du kawaii avec son trait hérissé habituel, les costumes d’un folklore éclectique et l’architecture idem.)
(Libération, 08/20/2004).

(10) There was Takashi Murakami, whom gallery owner Emmanuel Perrotin discovered in France. Very quickly, this artist, coming from manga art, created a group titled Kaikai Kiki. The artists have in common recourse to the long Japanese tradition related to the contemporary phantasmagoria influenced by video games, science fiction, or the observation of Japanese society. It is also called the “Kawaii movement”
(il y a eu Takashi Murakami que le galeriste Emmanuel Perrotin fit découvrir en France. Très vite cet artiste, venu de l’art manga, créa un groupe intitulé Kaikai Kiki. [Les] artistes ont en commun le recours à la grande tradition japonaise liée à une fantasmagorie contemporaine influencée par les jeux vidéo, la science-fiction ou l’observation de la société japonaise. Ce que l’on appelle aussi le mouvement Kawaii.)
(Le Figaro, Le Figaroscope, 05/21/2008).

Kawaii qualifies a Japanese manga, but signifies “mignon-pervers” (cute pervert) in extract (9). In extract (10), this term is used to designate the activity of a popular artist like Takashi Murakami. Here, the signification of this term is far from the way that kawaii is used in Japan.

The xenism kawaii elaborates two ideas about Japanese contemporary popular culture. On the one hand, it is described pejoratively in terms of its cuteness, adorableness, and feebleness, and on the other hand, it is described in terms of its perversity, irony, and fierceness.

The embodiment of two ideas for one xenism, kawaii could confirm that the choice of these glosses is not objective. Furthermore, the second idea for kawaii does not exist in Japan. In spite of these facts, the translation or explanation of the term kawaii is not presented as a subjective interpretation, but as a definition or literal translation.

4. Xenism and Peregrinism : Construction of Effect of Reality and Connivance
Xenism and peregrinism construct the “effect of reality – effet de réel” (Magri, 1995, p. 79) as argumentative devices. Thus, here xenism and peregrinism are used to construct a kind of “Japaneseness” as an effect of reality. The xenisms permit readers to persuade themselves that “this text concerns the real Japan” thanks to the gloss or the explanation. But how does the usage of peregrinisms realise this persuasion?

Using a peregrinism signifies that the meaning of this word has already penetrated into the common knowledge of the society that uses this term. A Peregrinism is one of the forms of implicit. The implicit is an argumentative device[v] (Amossy 2000, pp.151-153; Ducrot 1972, p.12).

When such a peregrinism qualifies objects with which it is not logically associated,[vi] “indirect, scattered, or incomplete” (Amossy & Herschberg Pierrot 1997, p.73) data from which an abstract, reductive schema, and stereotype are constructed are interpreted by the reader through his social shared knowledge.

4.1. The term kawaii as a peregrinism
When used as a peregrinism, the term kawaii could not be found in Le Monde, but it minimally appeared in June 2008 in Le Figaro and in 2004 in Libération.

(11) (…) two girls of 25 years old, dressed in black in Victorian fashion, wearing platform shoes of at least ten centimetres in height, and proclaiming everywhere that they love Dragon Ball Z […], it’s simply “too much kawaii “.
([…] deux filles de 25 ans, vêtues de noir à la mode victorienne, vissées sur des platform shoes d’au moins dix centimètres de haut, qui clament partout que si elles adorent Dragon Ball Z  […], c’est simplement «trop kawaii»)
( Libération, 05/29 /2006).

The word kawaii started to be used without a gloss to designate French women’s costumed as characters of Japanese animations or as “gothic Lolitas.”[vii] The locutor presupposed thus that the interlocutors knew the significance of the term kawaii in the context of Japanese youth culture, so this foreign word would already have penetrated into the culture of interlocutors.

(12)   TSUMORI CHISATO (…) recognised the queen of the kawaii motifs.
(TSUMORI CHISATO. (…) reconnaît la reine des motifs kawaii.)
(Le Figaro, 06/30 /2008).

With neither inverted comment nor gloss, the term kawaii is not used to designate the features of popular culture such as manga or the gothic Lolita, but to designate the features of the creations of a Japanese fashion designer. The locutor presupposes thus that the interlocutor knows what kawaii is. Each term implicitly designates the literal meaning kawaii in any way to construct a kind of connivance between the locutor and the reader. But the effects of reality created by the terms kawaii and geisha are not the same. The term geisha is also used to construct connivance through its synecdochical meanings.

4.2. The term geisha as peregrinism.
In French newspapers, the term geisha is not used to designate the real geisha herself but to construct connivance between the locutor and the readers as a synecdoche or a metaphor.

Geisha = epithet noun denoting “Japanese”
The term geisha is synecdochically used as an adjective instead of the word Japanese. In this stage, it would be possible that the term geisha could implicitly include the sense of submission according to the context; therefore, it could be used as a peregrinism.

First, a critical article “Japonaiseries” about the novel Metaphysique des tubes, the Belgian writer Amelie Nothomb‘s autobiography, will be examined:

(13) While reading this insipid “prêchi-geisha,” we deplore that a final original subject is treated in such a disappointing way
(En lisant ce prêchi-geisha insipide, on déplore qu’un sujet somme toute original ait été traité d’une façon si décevante)
(Le Figaro, Le Figaro Littéraire 08/31/2000).

The French expression Prechi-precha signifies “moralising discourse.” For example, it is used in the following way: “He bothers us with his Prechiprecha (moralising discourse).” The expression prechi-geisha is a pun of Prechi-precha. As a matter of fact, this book is not about geishas. In this context, the term geisha could be considered as denoting “Japanese” or “in the Japanese style.” The expression prechi-geisha could signify “discourse in the Japanese style” or “discourse about Japan.” The adjective “insipid” that is, “dry and dull,” evokes the idea that this expression would be used negatively, for example, as discourse by the writer who repeats the same clichés about Japan.

Geisha=traditional Japan
The following three examples are going to be analysed:

(14) Pronuptia (the name of shop) visits the geisha again. […the shop proposes] “japanizing” style in origami named kabuki, chizuko, shogun, or Yokohama
(Pronuptia revisite la geisha […le boutique propose] des silhouettes japonisantes en origami baptisées Kabuki, Chizuko, Shogun ou Yokohama.)
(Le Figaro 06/09/2005).

(15) In addition, we find the geisha corner with its ancient furniture; it’s practically impossible to find a named tansu, or this bath for girls of the last century”
(Ailleurs, on trouve le coin Geisha, avec ses meubles anciens, quasiment introuvables et baptisés Tansu, ou cette baignoire de fille du siècle dernier.)
(Le Figaro 02/10/2005).

In the two examples above, the term geisha is used synecdochically: in the extract (14), it refers to “japanizing style”; furthermore, in the extract (15) the “geisha corner” refers to the corner in which some Japanese traditional furniture is sold (of course, tansu isn’t exclusive only to a geisha’s room, but also to all Japanese). These examples show that the term geisha is such a plausible Japanese word that it can easily evoke the best things related to Japan.

Geisha = “Japanese women”

The term geisha is synecdochically used to designate “Japanese women,” which is expressed in the following two examples.

(16) When Raymond Guerlain offers to a Tokyoite geisha a bottle of Blue Time in 1962, we are amused to read about the embarrassment on the young woman’s face, the symbol of a person who doesn’t wear perfume.
(Lorsque Raymond Guerlain offre à une geisha tokyoïte en 1962 un flacon d’Heure Bleue, on est amusé de lire l’embarras sur le visage de la jeune fille, emblème d’un peuple qui ne se parfume pas.)
(Le Figaro 05/11/2000).

(17) Two brands have invented the new age perfume for geishas again. The perfume is consumed by the Japanese with the greatest discretion
(Deux marques réinventent le parfum pour les geishas New Age. Le parfum est consommé par les Japonaises avec la plus extrême discrétion.)
(Le Monde 05/24/2000).

These articles were published almost at the same time and described perfume for Japanese women. In these examples, the statement could refer to “the young woman” in (16) and to “the Japanese women” in (17). But in the first example, it is ambiguous to decide what the reference of the term geisha is: “a real geisha” or the “young woman.” It depends on the reader’s interpretation. In any event, the fact that the term geisha is implicitly used as an epithet noun denoting traditional “Japanese women” shows that this term could be an argumentative device in a triple sense:
I. The term geisha, one of the most famous Japanese words in foreign countries, is used in contexts unrelated to the geisha to construct a kind of Japaneseness, that is, an effect of realism in the text.
II. Using this term as peregrinism without gloss presupposes that the readers already know it, and this term constructs the connivance between locutor and reader.
III. Using this term with synecdochical signification would not construct simple connivance but one of derision between the locutor and the reader, produced by a humorous act. As Patrick Charaudeau said:

Humorous acts participate in various discursive strategies that dispose a speaking subject to try, in a particular communication situation, to seduce the interlocutor or the audience in producing the effects of several connivances…The connivance of derision tries to make share the insignificance of the target. The derision aims to disqualify the target and lower it. (Charaudeau2006, p.37, p.39)

Could we not say that geisha, which is a stereotyped symbol of phantasm in Japanese woman, is used as synecdoche for  Japan, Japanese, or Japanese women and constructs the connivance of derision to permit the reader to adhere to this text?

5. Conclusion
As we examined, the Japanese words kawaii and geisha used in French contemporary medias are used as argumentative devices such as the construction of meaning, effect of the reality, and, in particular, the construction of derision. What’s more, we could add another argumentative function: reinforcing a stereotyped image of Japan.

As we mentioned, Pierre Loti first introduced the term geisha in his book Madame Chrysanthemum. He wrote, ‘I exploit really the adjective petit (small), mièvre (small, vapid), mignard (cute pejoratively used) – (…) the physical and moral aspects of Japan are completely explained in these three words.”

In our time, more than 100 years after the publication of this book, thanks to the development of information techniques, the distance between Japan and occidental countries such as France has narrowed. But even now, as Brian Moeran discusses about images of Japan presented in British advertisements, Japanese people are often represented as children, women, or incomprehensible (1996, pp. 77-112). The adjective “cute” (pejoratively used, “mignard” in French) that Pierre Loti used to qualify Japanese women and guesha reappears today in the form of the term kawaii, a Japanese xenism or peregrinism in the French media.

Thus, even the new term kawaii recently appeared under the boom of Japanese popular culture; the notion of kawaii could be easily accepted by interlocutors in France who have a common knowledge about one of the stereotypical Japanese characteristics – petit, mièvre, mignard. In addition, the new word kawaii and the traditionally well-known term geisha could be also exploited to reinforce obstinate stereotypical Japanese characteristics: “petit, mièvre, mignard”, which would be as argumentative device in foreign texts on Japan.

NOTES
[i] In particular, we investigated the term geisha in the three newspapers published in 1995, 2000, 2005 and the term Kawaii in the same newspapers from 1999 to 2008. The first reason for this is we had to wait for the apparition of the term kawaii by December 17^th, 1999 in the article “Des figures de la culture « kawaii » imprégnées des valeurs japonaises” published in Le Monde, and it started to be used often in Libération since 2002 and in Le Figaro since 2006. The second reason is that occurrences of the term « kawaii » are minimal. In total, in our corpus, though the term « geisha » appeared 5 times in Le Monde, 5 times in Libération, and 13 times in Le Figaro, « kawaii » was only used 4 times in Le Monde and 11 times each in Libération and in Le Figaro. Articles in which we can find the term geisha are more numerous than articles using the term kawaii. Thus we limited the research period of publication of articles concerning geisha to 1995, 2000, and 2005.
[ii] Jean Dubois et al. explain that being a loan word is the last stage of the loan word, which is introduced into the French vocabulary and which could, for example, enter in some process of derivation and of composition (Dubois et al. 2001, p. 512). In our paper, we do not discuss loan words, which are no longer considered foreign words.
[iii] The translation of all the citations in French is done by the author of the paper.
[iv] Glosses of kawaii, such as mignon in French are not translated in English.
[v] Because the implicit ‘initiates a decoding activity that allows «cooperation» […]The implicit reinforces the argumentation by presenting under indirect and veiled form the beliefs and opinions which construct the undisputed premise[…] and the implicit permits to locutor at the same time to say certain things, and to be able to do as if he did not say them’ (Amossy 2000, p.152).
[vi] For example, the peregrinism Hiroshima is used in French newspapers to qualify Japanese fashion and is not related to the atomic bomb at all (Koma, 2009, pp.40-43).
[vii] Gothic Lolita, sometimes shortened to GothLoli (ゴスロリ, gosu rori), is a combination of the gothic and Lolita fashions. The fashion originated in the late 1990s and has been speculated to be “the social backlash” in response to Japanese fashion (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lolita_fashion#Gothic_Lolita on July 6, 2010).

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Although there has been some historical research on the development of argumentation studies in the US and Canada, it is safe to say that history of argumentation studies on the second half of the last century is less developed than the theory and empirical research of argumentation. As other fields of inquiries such as economics, political theory, and communication studies have history of those inquiries as their components, history of argumentation studies should exist and constitute the field of inquiry called argumentation. In addition to refining theories of argumentation proposed by Toulmin, the New Rhetoric Project, informal logicians, Pragma-Dialecticians, we need to examine under what historical contingencies those theories were proposed and defended. With a hope of developing history of argumentation as a legitimate subfield of argumentation studies, this paper attempts to offer a historical-rhetorical analysis of one pivotal argumentative exchange for the development of informal logic: the review process for publication of Logical Self-Defense[i].

In the review process of the manuscript of Logical Self-Defense, Johnson and Blair had to overcome arguments against publication by two reviewers. What were those objections and how did Johnson and Blair attempt to fulfill their dialectical obligations? Given that the triad criteria of argument evaluation (relevance, sufficiency, and acceptability) offered in Logical Self-Defense have been influential to introductory textbooks and research on informal logic, non-publication of Logical Self-Defense must have presented a different landscape of argumentation theory in general, and informal logic in particular.
It is therefore important to study in depth, as part of the historical project to track the development of informal logic since 1970s, how Johnson and Blair attempted to answer the critical objections. In addition to its significance to the history of argumentation, this paper has implications for theoretical and critical studies of argumentation, such as consideration of goals/purposes of argumentative exchange and use of argumentation schemes in the analysis of extended argument. This paper will initially situate the present research within the history of argumentation studies based on the research agenda proposed in the previous research (Konishi 2009). Then in section 2, the focus will shift to the analysis of the actual argumentative situation that Johnson and Blair faced in the review process of Logical Self-Defense. In section 3, a close historical-rhetorical analysis of the argumentative exchange between Johnson and Blair and the reviewers will reveal how Johnson and Blair maneuvered themselves. The final section will offer conclusions and suggestions for future research.

1. Publication of Logical Self-Defense as a key historical event
Published in 1976, Johnson and Blair’s Logical Self-Defense has been one of the most influential introductory textbooks on argument appraisal using the fallacy approach. The initial motivation to publish Logical Self-Defense came from their interest in refining the fallacy approach that Kahane offered in Logic and Contemporary Rhetoric for evaluating argument in natural language. Not satisfied with Kahane’s fallacy approach on its insufficient attention to the analysis of argument, unclear conditions for each fallacy type and not demanding the students to defend their charge of fallacy (Blair, 2007a), they wrote supplementary materials. In addition to tightening up these theoretical and practical aspects for argument evaluation, they essentially ‘Canadianized’ the textbook, taking examples of argument from Canadian sociopolitical topics (Johnson 2007).

Not only did Johnson and Blair refine Kahane’s fallacy approach, but offered a unique theoretical insight for evaluating different types of fallacious arguments based on the triad criteria of ‘relevance’, ‘sufficiency’, and ‘acceptability’. These criteria are geared toward evaluation, but can be used for classifying different types of fallacious arguments, without resorting to the deduction-induction binarism. These three criteria have been influential within the informal logic movement pedagogically and theoretically. Other than Logical Self-Defense, Damer (2001), Govier (2001), Groarke and Tindale (2004), Konishi (2003), Romain (1997), and Seech (1993) have adopted the triad criteria with some modified wording. In addition to the contribution to pedagogy, the triad criteria have guided scholars to investigating theoretical aspects of argumentation. Johnson (2000) examined how these three criteria and the truth condition constitute the sufficient condition for a good argument. Gooden and Walton (2007) resorted to the acceptability criterion in defending normative binding force of argumentation schemes. Blair (2007b) reviewed scholarship on the triad criteria and defended the tenability with some modifications of their original conceptualization. Although the reason for wide acceptance of the triad criteria is beyond the scope of the current work, suffice it to say that the criteria of relevance, sufficiency and acceptability are important inspirations for pedagogy and theory of informal logic, and thus the publication of Logical Self-Defense marked the key moment for the informal logic movement.

Despite the above significance, a close examination of development of Johnson and Blair’s ideas has not been conducted. According to the research agenda on history of argumentation studies offered by the previous research by the present author (Konishi 2009), historical-rhetorical analysis of important events is one of the major research agenda for developing history of argumentation. How did theorists of argumentation – Johnson and Blair – strategically use symbols to influence others (the publisher and the reviewers) in defending their pedagogically and theoretically important ideas? Using archived materials and oral historical interviews, this article examines the actual argumentative exchange by Johnson and Blair and the two reviewers of the manuscript of Logical Self-Defense, attempting to show how rhetorical dimension of the discourse affects the making of the history.

2. Reconstruction of rhetorical contingencies for publishing Logical Self-Defense
While teaching Applied Logic course at University of Windsor preparing the supplementary materials to Kahane’s textbook, Johnson and Blair started to search for a publisher for their own manuscript. They (1974a) wrote to Gordon Van Tighem, Humanities Editor of McGraw-Hill Ryerson, on February 18, 1974, regarding the possibility of publishing a textbook. Including the first chapter as a sample, they emphasized the significance of using Canadian examples and stated that they want to publish it so that they could make the textbook more readily available to students rather than turn a profit. In May 1974, they (1974b) agreed with McGraw-Hill Ryerson about the publication and promised to finish their manuscript by June 15, 1975. According to a memorandum titled ‘Notes of organizational meeting for Applied Logic text, October 1, 1974’, they were developing lines of thinking to endorse the eventual title of their textbook, Logical Self-Defense.

• Our angle will be that we are treating that part of critical thinking that might be called ‘defensive thinking’. This angle provides a (rough) principle of unity: everything in the text can (more or less) go under the rubric of “something you need to know to be able to think well defensively”.
• … Part I imparts the knowledge and skills needed for self-defence in the rough and tumble of argumentation. Part II imparts the knowledge skills required for Self-Defense against other important and socially prevalent assaults. Part I presents the concept of argument, and a list of the more frequent poisonous species (fallacies). Part II covers three areas [information, advertisements and cliches].

Taking more time to finish the manuscript than Johnson and Blair promised to the publisher, they turned in the manuscript of Logical Self-Defense (then tentatively titled Applied Logic) in August 1975, assuming it would be published. After the manuscript was reviewed, though, both of the two reviewers advised against publication in November 1975. One review (hereafter called Long’s review because it is longer) was critical of logical defects of the manuscript, whereas the other (hereafter called Short’s review) doubted if the manuscript would be marketable. Facing the possibility of the manuscript not being published, Johnson and Blair discussed how to maneuver this difficulty. An undated memo, which seems to be the one that Blair used in calling McGraw-Hill Ryerson, reveals their concerns:

About the criticisms
…We wonder how Jane [Abtamowitz, McGraw-Hill Ryerson’s representative] takes the criticisms. To us they are no problem. We get the impression from Herb [Hildlerly, the former representative of McGraw-Hill Ryerson] that there may now be hesitation about the book, because of them. Is that true?

 What we want to know from Jane and what we want to tell her.

…What do you want us to do now? What is your position now?

After calling Abramowitz, Johnson and Blair understood how their audience took the negative reactions by the reviewers and started to strategize how they would approach the argumentative situation. In Blair’s (1975) understanding, Abramowitz was “sympathetic to the need to get someone who understands the point of the text and is open to the possibility of some kind of applied logical course other then (sic) the traditional intro. to logic course.” However, Blair did not feel she was totally committed to the publication project:
My impression was that she is not entirely enthusiastic about the project herself – not to committed to it. I don’t think she has read the text, or read it with much care. She is afraid her judgement isn’t authoritative: “I’m not a philosopher….” So she takes reviews like Long and Short as authoritative. She said she sees it now as two in favor (us) and two against (Long and Short). That’s why she wants another reviewer.

In this situation, Johnson and Blair thought they should include preface to let the reviewers know how the textbook would be used and to guide the reviewers how to read the manuscript. Also, they (Blair 1975) would like more sympathetic reviewers to read it and were thinking about coming up with their “suggestions for questions” that they would “like the reviewers to answer.” Based on their understanding of the argumentative situation, they advanced arguments to persuade the publisher that the reviewers did not understand the project. How they constructed their arguments is the focus of the next section.

3. Arguments for and against the manuscript of Logical Self-Defense
Among the two reviews, Long’s review (Anonymous, n.d.a), titled “Re: Applied Logic R. H. Johnson & J. A. Blair” was more polemic and provided more substantive criticisms on the manuscript. Recognizing some “virtues (an agreeable style; a lively selection of examples), its logical defects are so serious as to make it a worthless introduction to the subject which it professes to treat” (p. 1 emphasis in original). Dividing logic and stylistics and use of examples, Long advances a claim that the manuscript is not worthy of the name of logic. In the next paragraph, he reiterates that authors are not capable: “(Y)ou will see how much the authors manage to get wrong in the span of a few pages [pages 71-79]” (p. 1 emphasis mine).

Impressing the reader of the authors’ inability at the beginning, Long elaborates how Johnson and Blair ‘get wrong’ in the section of irrelevant reason. Stating that “this is a pretty important section in the book; here for the first time the reader is shown applied logic at work, in the detection of fallacies”, Long puts the burden of proof on Johnson and Blair and demands that their account “be thoroughly convincing” (p. 1). In clarifying Johnson and Blair’s account of the fallacy of irrelevant reason, they use the following argument as an instance of fallacy of irrelevant reason, in which Canadian Minister of Health Marc Lalonde replies to the charge advanced by Grace MacInnis that the Department had been promoting the sale of corn flakes that has little nutritional value.

(1) “As for the nutritional value of corn flakes, the milk you have with your corn flakes has great nutritional value.” (p. 1)
In the reconstruction, Johnson and Blair are quoted by Long as saying:
(2) P1: The milk that one has with corn flakes has great nutritional value.
so) C: Corn flakes have more than a little nutritional value.

Long questions adequacy of this reconstruction by offering an alternative interpretation.

Where does he speak of the “more than little nutritional value” of corn flakes? Is he not rather saying something else, that it is worthwhile to promote the sale of corn flakes – regardless of their nutritional value – because their consumption leads to the consumption of milk, which has great nutritional value? And that, surely, is a defensible position. (p. 1)

Contrasting with his own interpretation, Long charges Johnson and Blair for committing the fallacy of straw person, because their interpretation makes it easier to conclude that the original argument commits the fallacy of irrelevant reason.

In addition to the problematic reconstruction of the argument, Long does not believe Johnson and Blair’s account of the fallacy of irrelevant reason is firmly based on the principles of logic. Discussing the above example and another example that Johnson and Blair offered in the manuscript, Long argues that they failed to account for the difference between two types of the fallacy of irrelevant reason – ones arising from “presupposing a false major (=general) premiss” and ones arising from “presupposing a false minor (=particular)” (p. 2).

Thirdly, in Long’s view, Johnson and Blair’s suggestion to defend the charge of irrelevance is “logically horrible” (p. 2 emphasis in original). They suggest to the critic of the argument that s/he construct another argument in which the conclusion of the original argument is supported by different, relevant premisses. This approach, Long argues, would not convince the original arguer if s/he were tough-minded. Presented with this criticism, the tough-minded arguer would say that the new argument presented by the critic is fine but would still question how it shows the original argument is fallacious. Instead of using this ‘horrible’ method, Long suggests the use of counterexamples, which “has been known to logicians over two millenia, and which Johnson & Blair themselves use, but apparently without realizing that they do!” (p. 3 emphasis in original). The method of counterexamples is to “show argument A to be faulty by producing an argument B, identical in structure with A, which is obviously fallacious” (p. 3 emphasis in original). Contrasting Johnson and Blair’s mwthod with that of counterexamples, Long supports the superiority of the latter method:
So we have the distressing spectacle of professional logicians wittingly advising their readers to follow an inferior procedure while themselves unwittingly following the proper one. No textbook of applied logic which omits to teach the method of counterexamples has any worth. (p. 3 emphasis in original)

In conclusion, Long addresses four weaknesses in Johnson and Blair’s account of irrelevant reason: (1) inadequate reconstruction of the original argument to be evaluated, (2) failure to subdivide the fallacy of irrelevance arising from presupposing a false major or minor premisses, (3) logically horrible advice to defend one’s charge of the fallacy of irrelevant reason, and (4) ignorance of the method of counterexamples[ii]. In developing these criticisms, Long makes use of arguments based on division. Contrastively referring to what Johnson and Blair say and to the stock of knowledge of logic such as straw person, distinction between major premiss and minor premiss or the method of counterexample, Long distinguishes Johnson and Blair from professional logicians, thereby questions Johnson and Blair’s credibility as reliable writers of a logic textbook.

While Long advances more substantial criticisms in the three-page review, Short (Anonymous n.d.b) focuses more on the marketability of Johnson and Blair’s textbook. The review points out that Bentham’s Handbook of Political Fallacies, Ward and Holter’s Fallacy: The Counterfeit of Argument, and Michalos’ Improving Your Reasoning “do more in much shorter space”, and they will be “vastly cheaper than” Johnson and Blair’s textbook (p. 1). In addition to the marketability issue, Short makes two brief comments on the substance of the text. First, it points out that “(t)he author’s accounts are not more precise generally. He is just long winded” (p. 1). Then it points out that the scope of the text is “narrow compared to what is covered in most introduction to logic,” and because of this narrow scope, “the book would not be used in ordinary logic courses – which is where the big market is.” Based on these reasons, Short suggests that the publisher publish only the exercise as a workbook. Although Short’s criticisms are more weakly developed than Long’s ones, they still constitute rhetorical obstacles that Johnson and Blair must overcome.

In replying to these negative reviews, Johnson and Blair (1975) resorted to what they should be good at: argumentation. They wrote a twelve-page document that pointed out how the original reviewers “were not fully acquainted with the goals and scope of the text” (p. 12). Understanding that the representative of McGraw-Hill thought the review to be “troublesome”, they felt that they have to re-establish their “credibility” (p. 1). The reconstruction of their credibility “cannot be done briefly, particularly given the nature of Long’s comments” (p. 1). They followed the original structure of the two reviews in their replies, for it would help the publisher “go over those reviews once more, and have them, and the Manuscript, at hand while reading what follows” (p. 1).

On the longer and harsher review by Long, Johnson and Blair (1975) sound polemical at the outset, criticizing Long’s credibility while enhancing their own:
…as we show the below, point by point, Long’s objections are in the main straight mistakes, misreadings of the text, or unsupported controversial opinions taking issue with the considered judgement of the authors. This is not a matter of one opinion against another. We show that Long is, time and again, wrong. It is infuriating to have to take the time to defend the text against the sloppy, churlish, and even stupid comments Long makes. We think you were seriously ill-served by this review. (p. 2 emphasis in original)

After setting a tone of their reply, they address each of the points raised by Long. As regards Long’s first criticism that their reconstruction commits the fallacy of straw person, they remind the reader that natural language argument is often open to alternative interpretation, and that the mere existence of an alternative interpretation does not automatically discredit their interpretation. It would simply mean that adequacy of the two competing interpretations must be determined by reason.

Reminding the reader of the nature of natural language, Johnson and Blair add reasons why their interpretation is more reasonable than Long’s, by referring back to the argumentative text and its background. According to their reference to the context, Lalonde, who has initially advanced an argument on the nutritional value of corn flakes, “does not choose to defend the claim that corn flakes have nutritional value. Instead, he switches to the different question, whether eating corn flakes will lead people to drink milk, which does have nutritional value” (Johnson and Blair, 1975, p. 3). In contrast, Long’s interpretation attributes to Lalonde the argument that “the sale of corn flakes is worthwhile because it leads people to drink milk” (p. 3). However, Johnson and Blair argue that Long’s interpretation dismisses the point that Lalonde attempts to shift the issue. In their judgments, “He (Lalonde) convinces Long, but not the careful critic” (p. 3). Johnson and Blair criticize Long’s alternative interpretation and imply that Long is an uncritical judge.

On Long’s second critique – the failure to subdivide the fallacy irrelevant reason that arises from presupposing a false major or minor premises, Johnson and Blair (1975) do not believe that the distinction will help students become good critics of natural language argumentation:
The question we’ve had to ask throughout is: What distinctions will help students develop the practical skills that this book is explicitly designed to teach? It is a serious misconception of the text to see it as intending to provide a complete presentation of the subject called “applied” or “informal” logic. The goal is not to get across a body of information, but to instill a skill. That is and should be a major selling point of the book. We’ve chosen not to introduce the distinction Long thinks is important. Our reason for doing so is that to teach this distinction would require a digression that stands to confuse and lose some of the practically-oriented students the text is designed for. Our disagreement with Long on this point is in no way a logical defect in the book. (p. 3)

In this passage Johnson and Blair contrast ‘practical skills’ or ‘practically-oriented’ and ‘a body of information’ of applied/informal logic or ‘a digression’. In light of the goal to which the book is written, practical skills are much more important than presenting the body of information about informal logic, and the failure to account for the subtypes of the fallacy of irrelevant reason is therefore not significant. Here they present a hierarchy between practical use to the students and the body of information about informal logic, and appeal to the publisher that Long’s charge, if it were true, does not make any sense in light of the goal of the manuscript. In conclusion, their disagreement with Long on this point is not “a logical defect” of the manuscript, but comes from Long’s failure to understand the nature of the manuscript (Johnson and Blair 1975, p. 2).

On the third line of Long’s critique – ‘logically horrible advice’ to evaluate the fallacy of irrelevant reason, Johnson and Blair (1975) refer to the manuscript and point out Long’s misunderstanding.

…what we actually say on p. 84 [of the manuscript] is this:
“On the basis of this discussion of irrelevance, you can see that to prove condition (2) of Irrelevant Reason satisfied it is necessary to show with specific reference to the argument in question how the truth of the conclusion is independent of the truth of the premise. This is what we did when we charged Lalonde with Irrelevant Reason. We argued that whether milk has nutritional value makes no difference to whether corn flakes have nutritional value, since they are two different substances and their nutritional properties are independent of one another.”
What we actually say bears no resemblance to what Long makes us out to have said. (p. 5)

Clarifying that Long has misread the manuscript, they further attempt to block a potential question that may well come up: “Perhaps you will be thinking that if Long was misled, then can’t it at least be said that in the passage is misleading?” (p. 6) On this potential question, they appeal to their successful teaching practice. They (1975) say: “All we can reply is that in teaching the concept of relevance over the past five years in this course we have never found our student mistake this sort of contrast for a proof of irrelevance” (p. 6 emphasis in original). Contrasting Long’s misreading of the manuscript with the successful teaching practice at University of Windsor, they conclude that “the evidence is mounting – and there’s more – that Long did not read the text with much attentiveness” (p. 6). By charging the sloppy reading of Long, they cast a doubt on Long’s credibility as a reviewer.

On the use of counterexamples, they refer to Kahane (1971), Capiladi (1973), and Fearnside and Holther (1959) and point out that this notion is not widely used in these books. On this basis, Johnson and Blair (1975) conclude that: “(i)t’s absurd to say that our not explicitly introducing the notion of counterexamples demonstrates the worthlessness of the text” (p. 6). In addition, they argue that including the use of counterexamples will force them to deal with the method of logical attack, to which the manuscript was not designed.

To discuss it [the method of counterexamples] would get us into territory we’ve deliberately avoided: strategies of logical offense. We’ve designed the whole text around what might be called “defensive logic” – how to avoid being taken in by others’ bad logic. It would call for an entirely new section – and in fact a different orientation; a different book – to catalogue and teach the methods of logical attack[iii]. (p. 6)

After attempting to demonstrate that Long has not supported his case in his review, Johnson and Blair (1975) remind the publisher of other significant parts of the manuscript on which Long has not said anything. Those significant parts include their treatment of media and advertisement, extended arguments, standardization of arguments, classification of fallacies, appeal to authority or two wrongs:
The list could go on and on. When we think of the variety of questions that even a sympathetic critic could address himself to, and compare the trivial quibbles Long manufactures, we wonder about the time and care he devoted to assessing the text, and indeed about his experience with this philosophical material.

Long’s review was written with such a lack of good faith, and of care, as to be useless to us and to you. It was a waste of your time and money. It’s a waste of our time to have to reply to it. (p. 8)

Throughout the process of replying to Long’s review, Blair and Johnson address the issue of credibility: Long’s interpretation of the argumentative text cannot convince careful critics; his charge on the failure to distinguish two types of irrelevance comes from his inability to understand the nature of the manuscript; his charge of logically ‘horrible’ advice is denied by the successful pedagogical practice; his call for the use of counterexample is not widely supported by logic textbooks and ignores orientation of the manuscript; and he does not say anything on other important aspects of the manuscript. These points collectively weaken the credibility of Long and transform this harsh critic into an uncareful reader who do not understand the nature of the manuscript. With these replies they implicitly enhance their own credibility.

Having concluded that Long’s review was off the point and useless, Johnson and Blair start replying to Short’s review. Their tone toward Short is less harsh and polemical than that toward Long. While acknowledging Shorts’ goodwill, Johnson and Blair (1975) focus more on what they disagree with Short’s review. On the first critique by Short – other textbooks dealing with more fallacies in shorter space, they argue that it is rather “a virtue” of the text, for they deal with “the most frequently occurring ways to spoil an argument” (p. 9 emphasis in original). They emphasize the purpose to which the manuscript was written. It is not for the “the traditional introduction to logic that briefly surveys ‘informal logic,’ nor is it for informational course that tells the students what the traditional fallacies are. Instead, it’s a handbook teaching a skill – a skill that is useful, and immediately applicable in a practical way” (p. 9). Again, they use a contrast between logic for practical skills and logic for the sake of knowledge/information and imply that Short’s comments are not meaningful in light of the purpose to which the manuscript was written.

In addition, Johnson and Blair deny Short’s criticism of the long-windedness of the manuscript, by addressing two audience members that Short do not explicitly consider. First, they consciously speak to the publisher, contrasting their manuscript with others on the market and arguing for the superiority of their own. They point out that those other textbooks do not provide detailed accounts, such as how different fallacies occur, why they are fallacious, why people commit them, and so on. Their manuscript simplifies the taxonomy of fallacies so as not to confuse “people who need a fairly simple working map of the area” (Johnson and Blair 1975, p. 9). Neither do these other textbooks use actual, everyday arguments; they instead use artificial ones. These points would be selling points for the manuscript. Besides, the criticism on the length does not consider another group of the audience of the textbook – university students without much philosophical background:
Note that what would be worrisome would be non-philosophers finding the text long-winded. It can be tedious for a philosopher to work through material treated in detail when he already knows it backward, but not so for a student meeting the ideas for the first time. (Johnson and Blair 1975, p. 10).

Constructing the main readers of the textbook as someone who do not have much philosophical background but need skills in argumentation, they attempt to persuade the publisher that Short’s review is off the mark. Given the main readers of the textbook, they need to offer a detailed account for helping students’ skills for argument evaluation.

Finally, on the issue of narrow scope, Johnson and Blair acknowledge the criticism that standard logic courses covers larger scope of topics than their manuscripts does. However, since the logic course can use more than one text, it does not follow that their work would not be used in logic courses. Besides they remind the publisher that their text has aimed at different markets from the outset, such as humanities courses, communications arts courses, community colleges and high schools. For these reasons, they doubt whether their textbook would not be competitive with other textbooks.

Having responded to these two reviews, Johnson and Blair (1975) offer general concluding remarks. They thought “(i)t is unfortunate that the reviewers were not fully acquainted with the goals and scope of the text” (p. 12). In addition, they request the publisher that the manuscript be sent anonymously to the reviewers, for their affiliation with University of Windsor may remind the reviewers of the university’s previous ties with Catholicism, which may adversely influence how the reviewers think of Johnson and Blair’s credibility. In the last sentence, they advance another punch line against Long:
Finally, we would like to see a copy of our comments about Long’s review get back to him. (p. 12).

4. Summation
Although McGraw-Hill Ryerson seemed to have already agreed with Johnson and Blair to have another round of reviews before they sent their rejoinder, it could have improved Johnson and Blair’s credibility as writers of the textbook for evaluating argumentation while discrediting the initial reviews. Both of the second-round reviewers (Trudy Govier and Michael Gilbert[iv]) positively supported the publication of Logical Self-Defense, and it was eventually published in 1977.

The above close historical-rhetorical analysis of the argumentative exchange between Blair and Johnson and the initial two reviewers presents us with the following issues to be considered: (1) importance of the goal/purpose of argumentation and (2) use of argumentation schemes or argument based on division. In the review process of Logical Self-Defense, parties concerned were Johnson and Blair, the reviewers, and the publishers. In this argumentative situation, what mattered the most for the arguers was not to resolve difference of opinion, to enter into negotiation, or to maintain the difference among arguers: the ultimate purpose/goal of this argumentation was to convince the third party (the publisher) of the substance of writing as well as their own credibility as arguers, with the polemical questioning of the other party’s credibility functioning as a subsidiary purpose/goal. The analysis of this argumentative exchange seems to endorse the view of many theorists of argumentation (Pragma-Dialecticians, Gilbert, Johnson, Govier, to name a few) that the goal of argumentation is important. However, the present article also suggests that applying a certain pre-existing purpose/goal in interpreting argumentative text may systematically deflect our attention to what is actually going in the text. Although this historical-rhetorical analysis does not deny the importance of ready-made goal/purpose of argumentative exchange, it suggests that argumentative dialogues are inherently mixed, and we have to reshape our understanding of the role of the goal/purpose. The goal/purpose is an important construct for argument evaluation, but we should rather leave the goal/purpose as a null set, which arguers and critics fill in each time they enter into argument or argument evaluation. This way, critics can maintain the adequate balance between theory and practice of argumentation. On the one hand the critics can rely on different theories of argumentation in reconstructing the argumentative situation and interpret the illative core and dialectical components of arguments; on the other hand they can avoid distorting what is actually going on in the particular argumentative situation. In other words, any pragmatic theory of argumentation, which emphasizes particular sets of the ready-made purposes/goals of argumentation ought to be viewed as a frame of reference for understanding the argumentative text, but the text in itself should be the starting and end points for offering situated theories that pays enough attention to the argumentative situations.

Secondly, the above historical-rhetorical analysis has revealed that both parties appeal to the argumentation scheme of division, or the use of contrast. Referring to the existing knowledge of logic such as straw person major/minor premiss, and counterexample, Long contrasts Johnson and Blair with ‘professional logicians’, thereby drawing a conclusion that the manuscript ought not to be published because Johnson and Blair are not up to professional logicians. In contrast, Johnson and Blair resort to the argumentation schemes of division and show the difference between the careful critic and the uncareful critic, logic for practical skills and a body of information of applied/informal logic, successful teaching practice and the uncareful critic who is misled, and defensive logic and offensive logic. These differences collectively support Johnson and Blair’s thesis that Long is not a good reviewer and they need another round of review by good reviewers. Resorting to the argumentation schemes of division, both parties express their disagreement on what logic should be or how it should be taught to the students. A more important but discouraging sign in Long’s use of division is that it reveals some bias of a traditionally-trained philosopher to then emerging informal logic movement. Literature of informal logic has repeatedly reported the negative reactions of the establishment of philosophy against informal logic, and this review process clearly shows an instance of the explicitly expressed bias. Although this is a discouraging sign, a historical-rhetorical analysis would help us collect instances of the bias against informal logic and understand what the bias has actually been like, and would help philosophers of argumentation and informal logic strategize how to justify argumentation and informal logic within the discipline of philosophy.

Although this paper has examined one pivotal argumentative exchange in the process of publishing Logical Self-Defense, further in-depth analysis of the whole process of publication of the book must be conducted; for it is not clear yet how Johnson and Blair gradually crystallized the triad criteria of relevance, sufficiency and acceptability through revising the manuscripts several times, or how the second-round reviewers’ comments on the length of the manuscripts helped to decide the final product of Logical Self-Defense. In addition, additional historical-rhetorical analyses of the argumentative exchanges between informal logicians and other philosophers may help uncover the bias of the philosophical community against informal logic. This being said, the author hopes that the present paper has shed light on the emergence of informal logic and convinced the readers of the legitimacy of history of argumentation as a potential significant area of inquiry for argumentation scholars.

NOTES
[i] Although Eemeren, Grootendorst, Snoeck Henkemans, Blair, Johnson, Krabbe, et al. (1996) refer to some historical facts of the recent argumentation theories, they do not critically examine how those facts came into existence. Further promoting history of argumentation studies requires the historical-rhetorical approach. I take this phrase from Turner’s ‘rhetorical history’, a close analysis of archived or unpublished materials and use of interviews in the historical research. It helps us discover how argumentation scholars used symbolic means to propose and defend their scholarly ideas in key historical events.
[ii] One more line of criticism by Long is that Johnson and Blair are not consisitent in the use of letters (A, B, and C, or P1, P2, and P3) in standardizing arguments. Since this is not a strong criticism, this paper does not discuss it.
[iii] Although dismissing the need of counterexamples here, the second edition of Logical Self-Defense explicitly uses the notion (Johnson and Blair 1983, p. 3). It is not clear whether the newer edition has expanded its focus to deal with logical offense as well as defensive logic.
[iv] Michael Gilbert has informed the author that he was the reviewer during the ISSA conference. I appreciate him for providing the information.

REFERENCES
Annonymous. (n.d.a). Re: Applied Logic R. H. Johnson & J. A. Blair.
Anonymous. (n.d.b). Untitled.
Blair, J. A. (1974, October 1). Notes of organizational meeting for applied logic text. Accession number 05-004, file 84.
Blair, J. A. (1975, November 5). Notes from memory and written notes of telephone conversation with Jane Abramowitz of McGraw-Hill Ryerson, 4 November 1975. Accession number 07-101, box 4.
Blair, J. A. (2007). Interviewed by Takuzo Konishi at University of Windsor, March 7.
Blair, J. A. (2007b). Relevance, acceptability and sufficiency today. Anthropology & Philosophy, 8.1-2, 33-47.
Damer, T. E. (2001). Attacking Faulty Reasoning. 4th ed. Belmont, CA: Wadsworth.
Eemeren, F.H. van, Grootendorst, R., Snoeck Henkemans, A.F., Blair, J.A., Johnson,R.H., Krabbe, E.C.W., et al. (1996). Fundamentals of Argumentation Theory: Handbook of Historical Backgrounds and Contemporary Developments. Mawhah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum.
Freeman, J. (1988). Thinking Logically: Basic Concepts for Reasoning. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall.
Godden, D. and Walton, D. (2007). Advances in the theory of argumentation schemes and critical questions. Informal Logic 27, 267-292.
Govier, T. (2001) A Practical Study of Argument. 5th ed. Belmont, CA: Wadsworth.
Groarke, L. & C. Tindale. (2004). Good Reasoning Matters!. 3rd ed. Don Mills, ON: Oxford University Press.
Johnson, R. H. & Blair, J. A. (1974a, February 18). Personal correspondence to Gordon Van Tighem. Accession number 07-010, box 4.
Johnson, R. H. & Blair, J. A. (1974b, May 13). Personal correspondence to Gordon Van Tighem. Accession number 07-010, box 4.
Johnson, R. H. & Blair, J. A.  (1975, November 5). Reviews of Applied Logic Manuscript.
Johnson, R. H. & Blair, J. A.  (1977a). Logical Self-Defense. Toronto: McGraw-Hill Ryerson.
Johnson, R. H. & Blair, J. A. (1983). Logical Self-Defense. 2nd ed. Toronto: McGraw-Hill Ryerson.
Johnson, R. H. (2000). Manifest Rationality: A Pragmatic Theory of Argument. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Earlbaum.
Johnson, R. H. (2007). Interviewed by Takuzo Konishi at University of Windsor, March 6.
Konishi, T. (2003). Ronriatama no Tsukurikata [Logical Competence]. Tokyo: Subarusha.
Konishi, T. (2009). Toward a history of argumentation: Canadian informal logic. In J. Ritola (Ed.), Proceedings of the Seventh Ontario Society for the Study of Argumentation Conference. Windsor, ON: OSSA.
Romain, D. (1997). Thinking Things Through: Critical Thinking for Decisions You Can Live With. Mountain View, CA.
Seech, Z. (1987). Logic of Everyday Life: Practical Reasoning Skills. Belmont, CA: Wadsworth.

1. The main question
Logical studies in Poland are mainly associated with the Lvov-Warsaw School (LWS), labeled also the Polish school in analytical philosophy (Lapointe, Woleński, Marion & Miskiewicz 2009; Jadacki 2009).[i] The LWS was established by Kazimierz Twardowski at the end of the 19th century in Lvov (Woleński 1989, Ch. 1, part 2). Its main achievements include developments of mathematical logic (see Kneale & Kneale 1962; McCall 1967; Coniglione, Poli & Woleński 1993) that became world-wide famous thanks to such thinkers as Jan Łukasiewicz, Stanisław Leśniewski, Alfred Tarski, Bolesław Sobociński, Andrzej Mostowski, Adolf Lindenbaum, Stanisław Jaśkowski and many others (see e.g. Woleński 1995, p. 369-378).

In ‘the golden age of Polish logic’, which lasted for two decades (1918-1939), ‘formal logic became a kind of international visiting card of the School as early as in the 1930s – thanks to a great German thinker, Scholz’ (Jadacki 2009, p. 91).[ii] Due to this fact, some views on the study of reasoning and argumentation in the LWS were associated exclusively with a formal-logical (deductivist) perspective, according to which a good argument is the one which is deductively valid. Having as a point of departure a famous controversy over the applicability of formal logic (or FDL – formal deductive logic – see Johnson & Blair 1987; Johnson 1996; Johnson 2009) in analyzing and evaluating everyday arguments, the LWS would be commonly associated with deductivism.[iii]

However, this formal-logical interpretation of the studies of reasoning and argumentation carried on in the LWS does not do full justice to its subject-matter, research goals and methods of inquiry. There are two reasons supporting this claim:
(1) Although logic became the most important research field in the LWS, its representatives were active in all subdisciplines of philosophy (Woleński 2009). The broad interest in philosophy constitutes one of the reasons for searching applications of logic in formulating and solving philosophical problems.
(2) Some of the representatives of the LWS developed a pragmatic approach to reasoning and argumentation. Concurrently with the developments in formal logic, research was carried out which – although much less known – turns out to be particularly inspiring for the study of argumentation: systematic investigation consisting in applying language and methods of logic in order to develop skills which constitute ‘logical culture’. Two basic skills that the logical culture focuses on are: describing the world in a precise language and correct reasoning. My paper concentrates on the second point.

The discipline which aimed at describing these skills and showing how to develop them was called “Pragmatic Logic”; this is also the English title of Kazimierz Ajdukiewicz’s 1965 book Logika pragmatyczna (see Ajdukiewicz 1974). The program of pragmatic logic may be briefly characterized as applying general rules of scientific investigation in everyday communication. This inquiry focused on the question whether the tools of logic can be used to educate people to (1) think more clearly and consistently, (2) express their thoughts precisely and systematically, (3) make proper inferences and justify their claims (see Ajdukiewicz 1957, p. 3). It should be added that this pragmatic approach to logic was something more fundamental than just one of many ideas of the school: it constituted the raison ď être of the didactic program of the LWS. Thus, the pragmatic approach to reasoning and argumentation had a strong institutional dimension: teaching how to think logically was one of the main goals of the school. The joint effort of propagating the developments of logic and exposing the didactic power of logic as a tool of broadening the skills of thinking logically may be illustrated by the passage from the status of the Polish Logical Association, founded on the initiative of Jan Łukasiewicz and Alfred Tarski in April 22^nd, 1936.[iv] The aim of the association was ‘to practice and propagate logic and methodology of science, their history, didactics and applications’ (see The History of the Polish Society for Logic and Philosophy of Science).

The inspiration for exposing this research field in the LWS comes from numerous publications on the origins of the informal logic movement and the pragma-dialectical theory of argumentation. In their writings informal logicians and pragma-dialecticians explained the phenomenon of revitalizing argumentation theory in the 1970s (e.g. Johnson & Blair 1980; Woods, Johnson, Gabbay & Ohlbach 2002; van Eemeren & Grootendorst 2004; Blair 2009; Johnson 2009; van Eemeren 2009). They indicated a pragmatic need to evaluate arguments in the context of everyday communication as one of the main causes of this phenomenon. Thus, at the beginning of the modern study of arguments in the early 1970s we observe the ‘marriage of theory and practice’ in the study of logic (Kahane 1971, p. vii; see Johnson 2009, p. 19). In the case of the LWS this ‘marriage’ was realized by treating formal and pragmatic logic as two interrelated, and not competing, wings of inquiry:

From what has been said above, some similarities are noticeable between the approaches of the LWS and contemporary argumentation theory (including informal logic and pragma-dialectics). My paper aims at making those similarities more explicit, so I raise the question: what relation obtains between logical studies carried on in the LWS and the recent study of argumentation? The answer is given in three steps. In section 2 I present some elements of the conceptual framework of the LWS, which are relevant for exploring connections between the school and argumentation theory. Among those elements there are concepts of: (a) logic, (b) logical fallacy, (c) argument, and (d) knowledge-gaining procedures. These concepts are helpful for introducing the conception of (e) logical culture. In section 3 I discuss some crucial elements of the program of pragmatic logic, which was aimed at elaborating a theoretical background for developing knowledge and skills of logical culture. Among those elements there are: (a) the subject-matter of pragmatic logic and (b) its main goals. Section 4 explores some perspectives for the rapprochement of pragmatic logic with argumentation theory. In the paper I refer to the works of the representatives of the LWS, as well as to the tradition of the school that is continued to this day.

2. The conceptual framework of the LWS
 2.1. Logic
Due to its achievements in formal logic the LWS is usually associated with the view on logic as a formal theory of sentences (propositions) and relationships between them. This understanding of ‘logic’ (so-called ‘narrow conception of logic’) is dissociated from the ‘broad conception of logic’ that embraces also semiotics and methodology of science (see e.g. Ajdukiewicz 1974, p. 2-4). Both conceptions of logic are employed in the tradition of the LWS what is illustrated by the fact that in it ‘logical skills’ encompass not only formal-logical skills, but also skills which can be described as using tools elaborated in semiotics, e.g. universal tools for analyzing and evaluating utterances, and in the methodology of science, e.g. tools for developing and evaluating definitions, classifications, and questions occurring in scientific inquiry (see the Appendix A in Johnson 2009, p. 38-39). An interesting example of the broader account of logic can be found in Tarski (1995, p. xi). ‘Logic’ refers here to the discipline ‘which analyses the meaning of the concepts common to all the sciences, and establishes the general laws governing the concepts’. So, if such a notion of logic is introduced, its obvious consequence relies on treating semiotics (a discipline dealing with concepts) and the methodology of science (the one dealing with principles of scientific inquiry) as fundamental parts of logic[v].

Other members of the LWS gave substantial reasons for treating the methodology of science as an element of logic in the broad sense. Jan Woleński makes this point explicit by focusing on the methodology of science as a discipline that uses tools of logic in exploring the structure of scientific theories:
The philosophy of science was a favourite field of the LWS. Since science is the most rational human activity, it was important to explain its rationality and unity. Since most philosophers of the LWS rejected naturalism in the humanities and social sciences, the way through the unity of language (as in the case of the Vienna Circle) was excluded. The answer was simple: science qua science is rational and is unified by its logical structure and by definite logical tools used in scientific justifications. Thus, the analysis of the inferential machinery of science is the most fundamental task of philosophers of science (Woleński 2009).

Treating the methodology of science as part of  logic is not that obvious for other research traditions because of the fact that methodology of science is seen as associated with philosophy rather than with logic. The broad conception of logic employed by the LWS includes semiotics and the methodology of science within logic, not within philosophy (Przełęcki 1971), which is one of the reasons why this treatment of logic is unique. Another distinctive feature of the LWS is the analytical character of philosophical studies – the very reason for introducing the broad conception of logic. For semiotics and the methodology of science are treated in the LWS as disciplines developing universal tools used not only in scientific inquiry, but also in everyday argumentative discourse where analyzing meanings of terms (the skill of applying semiotics) and justifying claims (the skill of applying the methodology of science) are also of use.

2.2. Logical fallacy
One of the consequences of employing this conception of logic is the LWS understanding of logical fallacies as violations of norms of logic broadly understood. These norms of logic in a broad sense are: (1) rules for deductive inference (formal logic), (2) rules for inductive inference (inductive logic), (3) rules for language use as elaborated in semiotics (syntax, semantics and pragmatics), and (4) methodological rules for the scientific inquiry. If these are the ‘logical’ norms, then consequently there are at least three general types of logical fallacies, i.e. (1) the fallacies of reasoning (also called the fallacies in the strict sense; see Kamiński 1962), (2) fallacies of language use (‘semiotic fallacies’), and (3) fallacies of applying methodological rules governing such procedures as defining, questioning or classifying objects (‘methodological fallacies’).

There are some difficulties with such a broad conception of fallacy. Two major objections against it are:
(a) This conception is too broad because it covers fallacies that are not violations of any logical norms strictly understood. For instance, it would be very hard to point to any logical norm, strictly understood, which would be violated in the case of improper measurement.
(b) The types of fallacies discerned from the viewpoint of the broad conception of logic overlap. For example, the fallacy post hoc ergo propter hoc may be classified both as the fallacy of reasoning and as a methodological fallacy. The fallacy of four terms may be classified both as a fallacy of reasoning and a semiotic fallacy, because of the fact that it is caused by the ambiguity of terms, and the ambiguity is classified as a semiotic fallacy.

Despite these and other objections, this conception was useful at least in determining a general scope of logicians’ interests in identifying fallacies. For example, affirming the consequent may be classified as a fallacy of reasoning, amphibology as a semiotic fallacy and vicious circle in defining as a methodological fallacy.  This conception of fallacy was briefly presented to show that the conception of logical fallacy accepted by the majority of researchers of the LWS was much broader than that elaborated exclusively from the perspective of formal deductive logic.

2.3. Argument
Another element of the conceptual framework of the LWS is the concept of argument. Since most representatives of the LWS dealt basically with reasoning (e.g. elaborating very detailed classifications of reasoning), the conception of argument is related to the conception of reasoning. For instance, Witold Marciszewski (1991, p. 45) elaborates the definition of argument by associating it with a kind of reasoning performed when the reasoner has an intention of influencing the audience:
A reasoning is said to be an argument if its author, when making use of logical laws and factual knowledge, also takes advantage of what he knows or presumes about his audience’s possible reactions.

This definition is treated by Marciszewski as a point of departure for seeking theoretical foundations of argumentation not only in formal logic, but also in philosophy:
Therefore the foundations of the art of argument are to be sought not only in logic but also in some views concerning minds and mind-body relations including philosophical opinions in this matter.

These general remarks point to the need of analyzing argumentation not only from the formal-logical perspective, but also with bearing in mind the broader context of reasoning performed in any argumentative discourse. One of the ideas that may be used in analyzing arguments in a broader context is the conception of knowledge-gaining procedures. The procedures are treated in the LWS as components of argumentation.

2.4. Knowledge-gaining procedures
From the perspective of the broad conception of logic elaborated in the LWS, arguments may be studied by analyzing and evaluating the main knowledge-gaining procedures (or ‘knowledge-creative procedures’; see Jadacki 2009, pp. 98-100) and their results. According to Jadacki (2009, p. 99), in the Polish analytical philosophy the following knowledge-gaining procedures were examined in detail:
(1) Verbalizing, defining, and interpreting;
(2) Observation (the procedure consisting of experience and measurement);
(3) Inference:
(a) Deduction (proof and testing);
(b) Induction (statistic inference, ‘historical’ inference, inference by analogy, prognostics and explanation);
(4) Formulating problems;
(5) Partition, classification, ordering.

When we take argumentation as a process, it may be studied as a general procedure consisting of activities as those listed above. When one is dealing with argumentation as a product, the results of these procedures are to be analyzed and evaluated. The major research interests in the LWS focused on the following results:
Ad. (1) Concepts and definitions (as the results of verbalizing, defining, and interpreting);
Ad. (2) Observational sentences;
Ad. (3) Arguments understood as constellations of premises and conclusions:
(a) Deductive inference schemes;
(b) Inductive inference schemes;
Ad. (4) Questions (as results of the procedure of formulating problems);
Ad. (5) Typologies and classifications (as results of the procedure of ordering).

As Jadacki emphasizes, the procedure which was carefully investigated in the LWS, was inference[vi]. So, one of the most interesting results of the knowledge-gaining procedures are arguments understood as constellations of premises and conclusions.

2.5. Logical culture
The conception of logical culture joins two components: (1) advances in the logical studies (i.e. research in logic) are claimed to be applicable in (2) teaching critical thinking skills. According to Tadeusz Czeżowski (2000, p. 68):
Logical culture, just as any social, artistic, literary or other culture, is a characteristic of someone who possesses logical knowledge and competence in logical thinking and expressing one’s thoughts.

Thus, the term ‘logical culture’ refers both to the knowledge of logic (as applied in using language and reasoning) and to the skill of performing commonsense and scientific reasoning (Koszowy 2004, p. 126-128). Logic broadly understood elaborates tools helpful in sharpening the skills of the logical culture. The general areas of its application are illustrated by Figure 2:

We may here observe that some skills characteristic of the person who possesses logical culture are also substantial for the two normative models in the study of argumentation: (a) an ideal of a critical thinker in the tradition of teaching informal logic in North America, (b) the ideal of a reasonable discussant in a pragma-dalectical theory of argumentation.

3. The program of pragmatic logic
The concept of logical culture as presented in the previous section is here a point of departure for introducing Ajdukiewicz’s program of pragmatic logic. The term  ‘logical culture’ denotes both knowledge of logic and skills of applying this knowledge in science and everyday conversations, whereas the term ‘pragmatic logic’ refers to a discipline aimed at describing these skills and showing how to develop them.

The program of pragmatic logic is based on the idea that general (logical and methodological) rules of scientific investigation should be applied in everyday communication. Pragmatic logic is a discipline aimed at applying logic (in a broad sense) in teaching and in everyday language use. So, two basic goals of pragmatic logic are: extending knowledge of logic and improving skills of applying it.

3.1. Subject-matter of pragmatic logic
Pragmatic logic consists of the analyses concerning:
(1) Word use: (a) understanding of expressions and their meaning, (b) statements and their parts, (c) objective counterparts of expressions (extension and intension of terms), (d) ambiguity of expressions and defects of meaning (ambiguity, vagueness, incomplete formulations) and (e) definitions (e.g. the distinction between nominal and real definition, definitions by abstraction and inductive definitions, stipulating and reporting definitions, definitions by postulates and pseudo-definitions by postulates, errors in defining).

(2) Questioning: (a) the structure of interrogative sentences, (b) decision questions and complementation questions, (c) assumptions of questions and suggestive questions, (d) improper answers, (e) thoughts expressed by an interrogative sentence and (f) didactic questions.

(3) Reasoning and inference: (a) formal logic and the consequence relation (logical consequence, the relationship between the truth of the reason and the truth of the consequence, enthymematic consequence), (b) inference and conditions of its correctness, (c) subjectively certain inference (the conclusiveness of subjectively certain inference in the light of the knowledge of the person involved), (d) subjectively uncertain inference (the conclusiveness of subjectively uncertain inference, logical probability versus mathematical probability, statistical probability, reductive inference, induction by enumeration, inference by analogy, induction by elimination).

(4) Methodological types of sciences: (a) deductive sciences, (b) inductive sciences, (c) inductive sciences and scientific laws, (d) statistical reasoning.

Since inference is one of the key topics of inquiry, in order to show that the program of pragmatic logic has a similar subject-matter to the contemporary study of argumentation, I shall discuss, as an example, Ajdukiewicz’s account of the ‘subjectively uncertain inference’.

According to Ajdukiewicz (1974, p. 120), a subjectively uncertain inference is the one in which we accept the conclusion with lesser certainty than the premises. It results from the fact that in spite of the premises being true the conclusion may turn out to be false. The instances of this type of inference are such that the strength of categorically accepted premises leads to a non-categorical acceptance of the conclusion. This is illustrated by the following example:

The fact that in the past water would always come out when the tap is turned on, makes valid – we think – an almost, though not quite, certain expectation that this time, too, water would come out when the tap is turned on. But our previous experience would not make full certainty valid (p. 120).

If we are to be entitled to accept the conclusion with less than full certainty, it suffices if the connection between them is weaker than the relation of consequence is. Ajdukiewicz deals with this kind of reasoning in terms of the probability of conclusion:
Such a weaker connection is described by the statement that the premisses make the conclusion probable. It is said that a statement B makes a statement A probable in a degree p in the sense that the validity of a fully certain acceptance of B makes the acceptance of A valid if and only if the degree of certainty with which A is accepted does not exceed p (pp. 120-121).

So, ‘a statement B makes a statement A probable in a degree p, if the logical probability of A relative to B is p’:
P1(A/B) = p.

Furthermore, Ajdukiewicz distinguishes the psychological probability of a statement (i.e. the degree of certainty with which we actually accept that statement) from the logical probability of a statement (that degree of certainty with which we are entitled to accept it). The logical probability is related to the amount of information one possesses at a given stage, because ‘the degree of certainty with which we are entitled to accept the statement depends on the information we have’. This claim is in accord with the ‘context-dependent’ treatment of arguments: argument analysis and evaluation done both in informal logic and in pragma-dialectics depends on the context in which arguments occur. Ajdukiewicz is aware of the fact that evaluating the logical probability of a given statement (P) depends on the actual knowledge of the subject who believes P. The following example confirms this interpretation:
If we know about the playing card which is lying on the table with its back up merely that it is one of the cards which make the pack used in auction bridge, then we are entitled to expect with less certainty that the said card is the ace of spades than if we knew that it is one of the black cards in that pack (p. 121).

This example gives Ajdukiewicz reasons not to speak about the logical probability of a statement ‘pure and simple’, but exclusively about the logical probability of that statement relative to a certain amount of information. Ajdukiewicz points to the fact that this relation between the logical probability and the amount of information we possess in a given context is clearly manifested in the following definition of logical probability:
The logical probability of the statement A relative to a statement B is the highest degree of the certainty of acceptance of the statement A to which we are entitled by a fully certain and valid acceptance of the statement B (ibid.).

This definition is helpful in giving the answer to the question: when is an uncertain inference conclusive in the light of the body of knowledge K? Ajdukiewicz’s answer is given in terms of the degree of certainty of the acceptance of the conclusion:
Such inference is conclusive in the light of K if the degree of certainty with which the conclusion is accepted on the strength of a fully certain acceptance of the premises does not exceed the logical probability of the conclusion relative to the premises and the body of knowledge K (ibid.).

This piece of Ajdukiewicz’s account of the subjectively uncertain inference shows that pragmatic logic deals with defeasible reasoning by looking for objective (here ‘logical’) criteria of evaluating defeasible reasoning. It clearly shows the tendency in pragmatic logic to analyze and evaluate not only deductively valid arguments, but also defeasible ones, as it is done in the contemporary theory of argumentation[vii].

3.2. The goal of pragmatic logic
The goal of pragmatic logic may be extracted from Ajdukiewicz’s view on logic treated as a foundation of teaching. This part of Ajdukiewicz’s analyses shows how important pedagogical concerns are for the program of pragmatic logic. It also explains why logic is called ‘pragmatic’.

For Ajdukiewicz ‘the task of the school is not only to convey to the pupils information in various fields, but also to develop in them the ability of correctly carrying out cognitive operations’ (Ajdukiewicz 1974, p. 1). This excerpt clearly explains why analysis and evaluation of knowledge-gaining procedures and their results is the main goal of pragmatic logic. If teaching students how to reasonably carry out major cognitive procedures (aimed at achieving knowledge) is one of the main purposes of teaching, then pragmatic logic, understood as a discipline aimed at realizing this goal, has as its theoretical foundation the description of the basic principles of knowledge-gaining procedures.

Ajdukiewicz’s crucial thesis is that logic consisting of formal logic, semiotics and the methodology of science constitutes one of the indispensable foundations of teaching. Logical semiotics (the logic of language) ‘prepares the set of concepts and the terminology which are indispensable for informing about all kinds of infringements, and indicates the ways of preventing them’ (Ajdukiewicz 1974, p. 3). The methodology of science provides ‘the knowledge of terminology and precise methodological concepts, and also the knowledge of elementary methodological theorems, which lay down the conditions of correctness of the principal types of cognitive operations, must be included in the logical foundations of teaching’ (p. 3). Ajdukiewicz gives an example of a science teacher, who informs students about the law of gravitation and its substantiation by explaining how Newton arrived at the formulation of the law:
When doing so he will perhaps begin by telling pupils that the said law was born in Newton’s mind as a hypothesis, from which he succeeded to deduce the law which states how the Moon revolves round the Earth and how the planets revolve round the Sun, the law which agrees with observations with the margin of error. That agreement between the consequences of the said hypothesis with empirical data is its confirmation, which Newton thought to be sufficient to accept that hypothesis as a general law (p. 2).

Thus, according to Ajdukiewicz, the role of the methodology of science in the foundations of teaching is revealed by the fact that crucial terms such as ‘hypothesis’, ‘deduction’ or ‘verification of hypothesis’ are in fact methodological and this is why they are useful in the process of achieving knowledge.

However, pragmatic logic is to be applied not only to scientific research or at school, but also to everyday speech communication. As Ajdukiewicz clearly states, pragmatic logic is not the opposite of formal logic, but both formal and pragmatic logic complement each other. Moreover, pragmatic logic is much more useful for the teacher, who aims – among other things – at training students to make statements that are relevant, unambiguous and precise, which is ‘one of the principal tasks of school education’ (Ajdukiewicz 1974, p. 3).

4. Pragmatic logic and argumentation theory: towards bridging the gap
The overview of the concepts of logic, logical fallacy, argumentation, logical culture, pragmatic logic, subjectively uncertain inference and the logical foundations of teaching gives support for the claim that in the LWS and in argumentation theory there are similar tendencies of crucial importance. One of the issues is that the two disciplines share in fact the same subject-matter. To show this in detail, however, would require further inquiry.

Future research should also answer the question of how the main ideas of pragmatic logic may be of use in the analysis, evaluation and presentation of natural language arguments. Research on such applicability of pragmatic logic may focus on the analysis of those components of the program of pragmatic logic which also constitute the subject-matter of argumentation theory. Some similarities may be treated as a point of departure for further systematic exploration of the connection between pragmatic logic and argumentation theory. Figure 3 sketches future lines of inquiry by showing the relation between three research topics in pragmatic logic and in argumentation theory:

Moreover, some fundamental assumptions of pragmatic logic harmonize with methodological foundations (i.e. the subject-matter, goals and methods) of informal logic and pragma-dialectics. The main assumptions of this kind are: (1) the normative concern for reasoning and argumentation and (2) the claim that the power of the study of reasoning and argumentation manifests itself in improving critical thinking skills.

As it was shown above, the representatives of the LWS were fully aware of the pragmatic need of studying everyday reasoning. And the ideas of Ajdukiewicz were aimed to be systematically applied to teaching and educational processes. The title given by Ajdukiewicz to one of his papers (Ajdukiewicz 1965: What can school do to improve the logical culture of students?) clearly illustrates this approach to teaching logic. In order to stress the pragmatic dimension of this project, it should be mentioned that Ajdukiewicz together with other thinkers of the LWS applied the program in their work as academic teachers. In the Preface of his Introduction to Logic and to the Methodology of Deductive Sciences (1995) Tarski states:
I shall be very happy if this book contributes to the wider diffusion of logical knowledge. These favorable conditions can, of course, be easily overbalanced by other and more powerful factors. It is obvious that the future of logic as well as of all theoretical science, depends essentially upon normalizing the political and social relations of mankind, and thus upon a factor which is beyond the control of professional scholars. I have no illusions that the development of logical thought, in particular, will have a very essential effect upon the process of the normalization of human relationships; but I do believe that the wider diffusion of the knowledge of logic may contribute positively to the acceleration of this process. For, on the one hand, by making the meaning of concepts precise and uniform in its own field, and by stressing the necessity of such a precision and uniformization in any other domain, logic leads to the possibility of better understanding between those who have the will to do so. And, on the other hand, by perfecting and sharpening the tools of thought, it makes man more critical – and thus makes less likely their being misled by all the pseudo-reasonings to which they are in various parts of the world incessantly exposed today (Tarski 1995, p. xiii).

The program of pragmatic logic shows that the idea of the necessity of choosing formal and informal analyses of arguments is a false dilemma. For instead of competing with each other, formal logic and pragmatic logic are both legitimate instruments of research and teaching[viii].

NOTES
[i] LWS is characterized as an analytical school which was similar, to some extend, to the Vienna Circle (Woleński 1989; Woleński 2009) It should be noted, however, that Polish analytical philosophy is a broader enterprise than the LWS, since there were prominent analytic philosophers, such as Leon Chwistek or Roman Ingarden, who did not belong to the school (Jadacki 2009, p. 7). However, the analytic approach to language and methods of science constituted the key feature of the research carried on in the school.
[ii] Heinrich Scholz, who is claimed to be the first modern historian of logic (Woleński 1995, p. 363) called Warsaw one of the capitals of mathematical logic (Scholz 1930).
[iii] Deductivism is the view concerning the criteria which allow us to distinguish good and bad reasoning. The main thesis of deductivism states that good reasoning in logic is minimally a matter of deductively valid inference (Jacquette 2009, p. 189). The logical tradition of the LWS accepts deductivism, however it deals not only with reasoning, but also with broader ‘logical’ norms of defining, questioning or ordering. For the detailed characteristic of deductivism in formal and informal logic see Jacquette 2007, Jacquette 2009 and Marciszewski 2009.
[iv] The first President of the Association was Jan Łukasiewicz. The other members of the first Executive Board were Adolf Lindenbaum, Andrzej Mostowski, Bolesław Sobociński and Alfred Tarski. The constitution of the Association was adopted in 1938 (see The history of the Polish Society for Logic and Philosophy of Science).
[v] I do not claim, however, that the broad conception of logic, as accepted in the LWS, is unique. Examples of such a broad understanding of the term ‘logic’ may be found in the works of Antoine Arnauld and Pierre Nicole (Port Royal Logic), John Stuart Mill (The System of Logic. Ratiocinative and Inductive) and Charles Sanders Peirce (Collected Papers) (see the Appendix A in Johnson 2009, p. 39).
[vi] This is why classifying various types of inference was one of the crucial tasks for the representatives of the LWS (see Woleński 1989).
[vii] In the paper I do not discuss whether defeasible inference is a separate type of inference, as distinct from inductive inference. For the brief overview of the literature on this topic see e.g. Johnson 2009, p. 32.
[viii] I am grateful to Prof. Ralph H. Johnson for discussion which was inspiring for raising the main question of this paper. I thank Prof. Agnieszka Lekka-Kowalik for her helpful comments.

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