ISSA Proceedings 2006 – Textual Allusion As Rhetorical Argumentation: Gorgias, Plato And Isocrates

• by: Christopher W. Tindale - University of Windsor

1. Introduction
A central characteristic of rhetorical argumentation is the way in which it anticipates the responses of the audience in the structure of the argument, inviting a co-development through expressed and implicit commonalities. Strategies of invitation include ways to capture the audience’s prior beliefs and understandings, to expand the cognitive environment of the argumentation in relevant ways.
One such strategy is allusion (Tindale, 2004, Ch.3) and a key variety of this is textual allusion, where an arguer uses intertextual references and imitations to evoke ideas in the minds of an audience and draw them toward a conclusion. Allusions convey an indirect reference in passing without making explicit mention. So for an arguer to employ this strategy she must be confident that the reference alluded to is sufficiently present in the cognitive environment (that is, the beliefs, knowledge and background information) of her audience in order for the association to be grasped and the further conclusion drawn.
We see some vivid cases of this confidence in the textual allusions of early Greek practitioners of argument, Plato and Isocrates, as they try to win their audiences’ support for particular ways of conceiving the concept ‘philosopher’. Each reminds the audience of alternative ideas while at the same time gaining weight in the eyes of the audience by allusion to earlier texts with which they are familiar. In Plato’s case, he structures the Apology of Socrates so as it refers to the Defense of Palamedes by Gorgias (483-376 BC), a text with which his audience would be familiar. Isocrates in turn tries to establish his ideas in his own defense, the Antidosis, by allusion to and direct imitation of Plato’s Apology.
This paper discusses the details of this strategy and how it works in the cases surveyed, emphasizing its core rhetorical power as it draws on the audience’s prior understandings and recasts them in a new frame. On strictly logical terms, textual allusion and imitation of this nature would seem to have no argumentative force. But when audience considerations are highlighted in a rhetorical treatment of argumentation, the power of the strategy becomes evident.

2. Arguments and Figures
Arguments and figures are similar in several relevant ways. Both, of course, are audience-directed pieces of discourse that draw on the contextual situations involved. They are also discourses that move in the sense of transferring ideas or claims from one point in the discourse to the end. Arguments traditionally do this from premises to conclusion, and figures encourage a similar movement, especially when put to persuasive ends. Reboul (1989, p.181) shows how an argument “possesses the same status of imprecision, intersubjectivity and polemic” as a figure, and Jeanne Fahnestock (1999) in her work on rhetorical figures in science, takes us even further in laying bare the cognitive heart of figuration. Beyond this, she identifies within key figures crucial features of rhetorical argument like collaboration and experience (the writer/speaker collaborates with the audience; the audience experiences the discourse). Chaim Perelman and Lucie Olbrechts-Tyteca (1969, p.168) are also important contributors to this discussion. They propose that a figure can be argumentative depending on whether it meets certain conditions: It must be recognized to have a codified structure; its inner activity promotes the movement from premises to a conclusion; and it has one of the goals of argumentation (adherence, persuasion, re-enforcement, etc.). Moreover, as already implied in the foregoing, when we are looking at argument from a rhetorical (rather than logical or dialectical) perspective, we are asking certain fundamental questions like ‘How is this discourse experienced?’ and ‘How does it invite collaboration?’ Such questions help us see the force of figures like allusion when used in argumentative contexts. Read more

ISSA Proceedings 2006 – The Gospel Of Matthew As An Argument

• by: Mika Hietanen - University of Amsterdam

1. Introduction: the Meaning of ‘Gospel’
For ‘gospel’, the dictionary gives us ‘the record of Christ’s life and teaching’ (NOD 2001). Earlier, in pre-Christian times, the term ‘gospel’ (Greek root euangel-) denoted the message of a messenger who was sent from the battlefield to convey good news about a battle. John Dickson (2005) argues that in antiquity the use of the word always connoted a message that was news. Dickson (2005, p. 220) states that ‘the larger eschatological context […] makes clear that euangel– for the synoptists connotes news disclosed to the world with the arrival of the Messiah.’ He also refers to Liftin (1994, p. 195–197) who points out that since euangel– in classical usage connoted ‘report’ rather than ‘persuasion’, it was of little significance in the rhetorical practices and literature of the period.
We should, however, not draw the conclusion that the gospels are non-persuasive and void of rhetorical practices. The gospels do not present Christ’s life and his teaching directly, but conveys them through a complex process of reflection and revision. They are far from neutral historical accounts. If the gospels are news, they are a very special kind of news, presented in a certain way and with a certain intention.

The Christian evangelists adopt a whole set of standpoints that go against the status quo of the time. Consequently, the gospel was and is by many received as an argument. It therefore seems probable that the purpose of the gospel from the beginning was not only to report, but also to persuade. This aspect is often not given enough attention in commentaries and exegeses. Dickson’s comment relating to the matter about the agent of the gospel is illustrative (2005, p. 220):
‘Although Jesus is the principal herald of the gospel in the synoptic traditions, numerous others also take part in this act of eschatological disclosure: angels (Luke 1.19; 2.10), the Baptist (Luke 3.19), the disciples (Luke 9.6; Matt 24.14), and even the narrator himself (Mark 1.1). In all of these texts “gospel” connotes news.’

Certainly the evangelist wants to give an impression of many witnesses, but are these truly separate witnesses (or agents of ‘eschatological disclosure’)? Is it not the author who presents arguments; directly and also often indirectly through the way the story is told, and through the characters in the story? If so, the evangelist is the principal ‘herald of the gospel’. My hypothesis is that the gospel can be viewed as an argument and that viewing the gospel as an argument illuminates an important aspect of the text.
In the next Section I briefly sketch a foundation for the analysis by putting the text in its historical context and by taking a look at some research from the point of view of narrative criticism and rhetorical criticism. Specifically I am interested in to what extent the gospel has been viewed as an argument. I then go on to attempt a preliminary argumentation analysis of the gospel. Does it make sense to outline the gospel as an argument-structure with standpoints, sub-standpoints, and premisses? In addition to presenting a structure of the gospel, I take a look at a shorter passage, the virgin conception (1: 18–23). Does the story lend itself to an argumentation analysis?

2. The Gospel of Matthew: Background and Some Earlier Approaches
2.1 Historical Context
Of the four gospels, I find Matthew to be a good choice for an argumentation analytical perspective for four reasons:
(a) it is a Jewish Christian gospel, providing many comments relating to Jewish tradition, testifying often to the Old Testament background and to Jesus’ clashes with the official representatives of the Jewish religion and nation. The background of a disagreement between the status quo (Judaism) and the new Jesus-movement (Christianity) is very clear in Matthew.
(b) It is a carefully constructed gospel. In comparison with the other synoptists, Matthew ‘impresses by the care and literary artistry involved in its composition’ (France 1990, p. 21).
(c) Matthew seems to lend itself most naturally to an argumentation analysis. This is a consequence of the careful composition.
(d) In comparison with John, Matthew is older and closer to the historical situation, to the original dispute. This is not to say that the same arguments are not present in the other gospels, but in Matthew they are easier to identify. Read more

ISSA Proceedings 2006 – Purpose, Argument Fields, And Theoretical Justification

• by: Robert C. Rowland - The University of Kansas

Twenty-five years ago, a theory of argument fields was one of the most important issues facing argumentation as a discipline. Building on the essential work of Stephen Toulmin, theorists developed a number of different approaches to field theory, including sociological, historical, psychological, and pragmatic perspectives, and focused in detail on laying out a sophisticated theory of how fields function. Other topics included methodological issues related to the best approach to defining particular fields or evaluating the argumentative practices in a given field. Some theorists, notably David Zarefsky (1982), rejected the conventional wisdom and argued that field theory had only limited value. These and other issues were debated in convention programs, at the first and second Alta argumentation conferences, and in journals, notably the Journal of the American Forensic Association (now Argumentation and Advocacy).
Twenty-five years later, the situation is quite different. Argument field theory has all but disappeared as a contested issue within the discipline of argumentation studies. As Godden noted, “the debate surrounding field theory seems to have reached its peak more than two decades ago” (2003, p. 370). The topic has been noticeably absent in the proceedings of recent conferences, including ISSA and Alta. Nor have field studies or field theory been featured in recent years in argumentation journals. It would appear that the somewhat skeptical judgment of Zarefsky almost a quarter century ago has been proven correct. And yet despite his criticisms of various approaches to field theory as including considerable “conceptual fuzziness,” Zarefsky rejected “abandoning the troublesome concept altogether,” noting “It is a potential aid to explaining what happens in argumentative encounters, to classifying argument products, and to deriving evaluative standards” (1982, p. 203). In the spirit of attaining those goals, a reassessment of field theory is in order. Surely, Toulmin’s fundamental insight that argumentation practices only can be understood in context and that the practices in particular coherent fields best are understood in relation to the norms of that field, remains a useful and essentially unquestioned principle in the discipline today. If the core idea at the heart of field theory is so widely accepted, a reconsideration of the underlying theory is long overdue.
In this essay, I argue that one reason that field theory is no longer a highly contested issue is that the description of individual fields, apart from the description of a particular argumentative controversy, is not a generally useful endeavor. I then argue that field theory declined as a contested issue because the various approaches that were developed in relation to fields were complementary, not competing approaches. I conclude by arguing that theoretical principles derived from those approaches have important implications for the study of argumentation itself as a field.

1.
At first, it may seem paradoxical, but one major reason for the decline of field theory as an area of contested debate is that while the theory is essential in many domains of argumentation, field studies by themselves are not particularly useful or interesting. Field studies exist at a mid-point between field theory and a case study of an actual controversy. The theory is important because it informs the way that argumentative practices evolve and illuminates the epistemic rules governing any particular domain. Application of those principles to a particular controversy can be enormously revealing, a point that is evident in the many case studies presented at argumentation conferences and published in disciplinary journals. But the middle ground of an analysis of a particular field lacks the generalizability of the theory and the specificity of the study of a particular controversy. This situation helps explain the judgment of Pamela Benoit in relation to research on individual fields that “theoretical development in argument fields has been disappointing” (1988, p. 38), as well as Ray McKerrow’s observation that field studies tend more toward detailed description than they do to application of the theoretical terminology found in a given theory of fields (1986, p. 185). A study of a general field, such as the law, is likely to be useful only for the very narrow pedagogical purpose of explaining the overall structure of argumentative activity, a topic of interest to almost no one. On the other hand, careful analysis of a given argumentative controversy can be enormously useful. Such analysis may not apply the terminology of field theory, but it inevitably depends upon that theory to explain particular argumentative practices, practices which always are constrained by norms of the field in which they occur. As Prosie, Mills and Miller note, “Field theory helps argumentation scholars understand practical argument” (1996, p. 127) in a particular controversy. Read more

ISSA Proceedings 2006 – Confrontational Manoeuvring By Pointing Out A Pragmatic Inconsistency

• by: Jan Albert van Laar - University of Amsterdam, University of Groningen

1. Introduction
According to some argumentation scholars, such as Brinton (1985, 1986), ad hominem arguments, or personal attacks, can be reasonable, and, according to some dialecticians among them, such as Walton (1987, 1998, 1999) or the pragma-dialecticians (Van Eemeren & Houtlosser 2003), they can be dialectically sound. In this paper I will restrict myself to the kind of personal attack where a critic charges an arguer with a so-called pragmatic inconsistency: the arguer, allegedly, didn’t practice what he preaches, or he defected from his own policy. The question is: why would an arguer care for the (pragmatic) consistency of his argumentative position?[i]
For example, according to the British local council of West Lincolnshire, roadside memorials, put there to remember the victims of traffic accidents, cannot be tolerated because they distract drivers. A critic responds:
It’s total hypocrisy. The authorities are happy to put up signs that make big money. But if we campaign to put up signs they treat us as troublemakers, and expect us to keep quiet when our children have been slaughtered. (The Guardian, London, November 3, 2005, Features Pages, p. 8).

I will discuss this kind of personal attack from the pragma-dialectical perspective of strategic manoeuvring between dialectical and rhetorical objectives (Van Eemeren & Houtlosser 1999a, 1999b, 2002, 2003). One problem to be solved is that, dialectically speaking, there is nothing wrong for a protagonist to have an inconsistent position. So any such charge seems to be irrelevant. I will try to solve this problem by using the distinction between the role of the protagonist in the model of a critical discussion, and the person adopting that role in argumentative practice. This person can be vulnerable to the inconsistency charge in three ways. Correspondingly, I will distinguish three versions of this personal attack. One of these versions is metadialogical in nature, and that one will be examined in some further detail.

2. Critical discussion
A model for critical discussion specifies a normative procedure for resolving differences of opinion by critically testing whether a particular standpoint is tenable vis-à-vis a particular antagonist with particular commitments. A critical discussion has four stages (Van Eemeren and Grootendorst 2004, pp. 57-62). The parties develop and formulate their difference of opinion in the confrontation stage. They decide on procedural and material starting points in the opening stage. In the argumentation stage they exchange arguments and criticisms. Finally, in the concluding stage, they determine whether the difference has been resolved, and if so, in whose favour.
Within a critical discussion there is a division of labour to stimulate the parties to consider all relevant pros and cons. The division of labour in the pragma-dialectical notion of a non-mixed discussion resembles the division of labour in the formal dialogues of Barth and Krabbe (1982). The individual task of the protagonist is to show to the antagonist that her critical position is untenable, or, equivalently, that his standpoint is defensible on the basis of the agreed upon starting points. He must do so by offering argumentation that starts from the antagonist’s commitments and that leads to his standpoint. However, his primary aim is not to show to the antagonist that the standpoint he defends is true, or acceptable in its own right. The antagonist’s aim is to make it clear to the protagonist that her position as a critic is tenable after all, and she does so by challenging and testing the parts of the protagonist’s defence.

Shared goals and the individual dialectical tasks can be specified for each of the four stages. Consider the confrontation and the concluding stage. The shared goal of the confrontation stage is to formulate the difference of opinion in a way that furthers its resolution. The parties carry out the mutually opposite tasks of wording their positions and usage declaratives in ways that facilitate their individual defensive or critical tasks in the argumentation stage. In an impeccable confrontation, however, they do not become overly opportunistic. Discussion rules prevent them to nip the resolution process in the bud and impel them to remain within the bounds of reason. So, the parties do not hinder one another when advancing or adapting a standpoint or critical doubt; they formulate their contributions as clearly and univocally as possible; they interpret the formulations of the other party carefully; they accede to requests for usage declaratives; and the issue of the status or the position of the arguers does not arise (Van Eemeren & Grootendorst 2004, pp. 60, 135-137, 190-191). The main goal of the concluding stage is to determine whether the difference of opinion is resolved, and if so, whether it has been resolved in favour of the protagonist or in favour of the antagonist. So, a discussion has three possible outcomes. The protagonist may give up his attempt to show to the antagonist that her critical position is untenable. In that case the conflict of opinions has been resolved in favour of the antagonist. The antagonist may give up her attempt to challenge the main standpoint, resulting in a resolution in favour of the protagonist. Or the parties may decide that their discussion ends unresolved. Read more

ISSA Proceedings 2006 – The Rule Of Law Argument (Its Elements And Some Open Questions And Cases)

• by: Marijan Pavčnik - Faculty of Law, Ljubljana, Slovenia

“No, we cannot say: everything that is useful to the people is law, but just the opposite must be said: only what is law is useful to the people.”
(Gustav Radbruch)

I. The Concept and Elements of a State Governed by the Rule of Law
A state governed by the rule of law is a modern state[i] where the actions of state bodies are legally determined and where basic (human) rights are guaranteed. The administration and the independent judiciary, which issue individual and executive acts or carry out material acts (especially the administration), are subject to the constitution and statutes passed by the representative body (national assembly, parliament, etc.). It is organized as a democratic state based on the principle of the separation of powers. One of the fundamental principles of the European Union and of its member states is that they are states governed by the rule of law.
The design of the modern state governed by the rule of law is a result of historical development, with the most intensive contributions coming from English (later also North American) and European continental law.[ii] The original elements of the English (common law) rule of law are the supremacy of the parliament in relation to other state bodies [together with the principle of the necessity of the legal (not arbitrary!) actions of the organs of state power], equality before the law, and the protection of basic rights before courts.[iii] Basic rights exist already before that power and thus, as the substantive principle, define the limit that the state power must not violate. This insight was also accepted by the continental (especially German) variant of the state governed by the rule of law, which originally put more emphasis on the legality itself of the state organisation (hence the expression Rechtsstaat) and the subordination of the administration to statutes passed by the representative body. It is generally accepted in modern theory that there are no essential differences between the European-continental Rechtsstaat and the Anglo-American rule of law.[iv] Even more clearly: the rule of law is the result and the aim of both systems and they understand it very similarly as regards its contents, while they approach it in different ways depending on the differences between the two families of law.

In a state governed by the rule of law, legality is a quality that is specially emphasized. It holds true for such a state that the constitution, the statutes, and other formal legal sources treat legal subjects equally (the principle of equality before the law) and foreseeably. Violations of the law are also defined in advance (of special importance is the principle Nullum crimen nulla poena sine lege certa) and the procedure used by the responsible state body in order to establish whether a violation of law has taken place and which legal consequence should be pronounced (the principle of legal certainty!). In a state governed by the rule of law the rights and duties of legal subjects are defined by law, the most important among them are contained and promulgated as the basic rights in a legally formal manner by the constitution or some other constitutional documents. Another element of a state governed by the rule of law are the legal remedies used by legal subjects to exercise their rights and achieve the realization of duties.
The design of the state governed by the rule of law is very broad. Its main dimension is a legal framework as regards the contents and the procedure within which legal decision-making should take place and state bodies should decide. By way of example, let us look at the elements of the state governed by the rule of law as enumerated by Herzog in Maunz/Dürig’s commentary. Herzog bases his explanations on the original Maunz’ division defining the following elements as corresponding to the concept and tradition of the state governed by the rule of law: the division of powers; basic rights; the legality of the administration and judiciary also encompassing being bound to “law and justice” (cf. Art. 20/3 of the Basic Law for the Federal Republic of Germany); the restrictability of state activity, which must be measurable and foreseeable (sub-elements of this element are the principle of legal certainty; trust in the law within a limited scope; the prohibition of retroactivity; the principle of definiteness in legislation, and the prohibition of excessive state interventions together with their necessity and proportionality); legal protection together with the principles ensuring an independent and fair trial; Nullum crimen nulla poena sine lege; the existence of a formal constitution, which is “the crown of a state governed by the rule of law”.[v] Read more

ISSA Proceedings 2006 – On Taking The UN Seriously As A Site For Public Arguments: Does The UN Have A Role In The 21st Century?

• by: Patricia Riley - University of Southern California, Thomas Hollihan - University of Southern California & James F. Klumpp - University of Maryland

In a series of essays we have examined the challenges to democracy and to deliberative political participation posed by globalization. We have considered the declining power of nation states, the changing patterns of media production and consumption and the impact of new communication technologies on argumentation theories and practices (Hollihan, Riley & Klumpp, 2003; Klumpp, Hollihan & Riley, 2002; Klumpp, Riley & Hollihan, 2000; Hollihan, Klumpp & Riley, 1999). In this research we have been interested in understanding how new forms of social and political networks have created powerful opportunities for social organization and political action. These changes have empowered people in unique ways, some of which may be socially beneficial (e.g., increasing the power of environmental movements), while others may have led to enhanced opportunities for the angry, alienated, and dispossessed to feed each other’s rage (e.g., the use of the Web by racist hate groups) (Hollihan, Riley & Klumpp, 2003; Riley, Hollihan & Klumpp, 1998). We have also focused on various institutions in the globalized world: some local democratic sites, some new structures within the altered global power distributions, some in between. We have focused explicitly on the role of NGOs in this process, and most recently we explored the challenges toward winning public consensus and governmental adherence to the United Nations’ (UN) principles of human rights (Hollihan & Riley, 2006).
This paper expands upon this earlier work and returns our attention to the UN. We want to examine the UN as an argumentative site within the altered democratic landscape of the 21st century. We will argue that the UN faces unique challenges as a site for deliberation in this era of globalization but that it also provides an essential contribution to democracy and civil society. The paper discusses the dual purposes of the UN as a site for the development of values and moral arguments and as a political actor on the world stage. We identify the challenges to the UN as a forum for arguments that would legitimate actions and identify the procedural conditions for argumentative practices and structural changes that would strengthen the UN as a site for democratic renewal.

1. The Place of the UN in a Globalized World
The structural and institutional challenges faced by the UN are readily apparent. The UN was created in a world that had just fought a World War based on nationalistic interests. The temporary allies that had won that war were dividing into bipolar camps in which the national interests of two powers dominated the interests of others, even as the UN’s birth was being consummated. The institution’s first half century was shaped by this bipolar reality and the efforts of smaller, formerly colonial powers, to respond to their own nationalisms and carve out a place within that bipolar world. The largely peaceful revolution that ended the bipolar Cold War left a changed world. The initial response to this change promised a more diverse and decentralized world with the opportunities and dangers posed by these transformations. The attack of September 11, 2001, and particularly the invasion of Iraq two years later, triggered a reasserted nationalism in which the dominance of the United States as a military power presented a very old pattern of empire.
At the beginning of the 21st century the United Nations remains organized around the six major organs that it was given at birth. Three of these dominate public awareness. The Security Council is an organ of the powerful. It is a deliberative body that through extended diplomacy often takes action to impose order on a disorderly world. It functions best in peacekeeping roles. The Security Council is no match for the nationalistic interests of powerful nations and is often simply ignored by them, unless the interests of the powerful coincide. Debates in the Security Council do not so much decide the choice of action as they legitimate actions. Success in the Security Council provides international legitimacy; failure often simply shifts the terms of legitimacy to national interest.

The Secretariat is, in reality, the coordinator of a decentralized plethora of agencies, including the Economic and Social Council and the Trusteeship Council, that address many of the problems of the social, economic, and political world. The International Court of Justice brings international law to disputes among nations. The Court has recently acquired new importance because of its war crimes trials. The various minor councils, agencies of the Secretariat, and non-subsidiary agencies reporting to the UN, from UNESCO to the International Atomic Energy Commission, provide a decentralized administrative structure that struggles to expand international cooperation by marshaling cross-national resources of personnel and knowledge. Although the Secretary General is responsible for coordinating these ancillary functions, he enters public consciousness most effectively as a voice of the UN’s power to shape the legitimacy of member actions. Thus, he is publicly more an extension of the General Assembly than of the other parts of the UN.
The one place where all 191 nations of the UN come together, the General Assembly, has been ridiculed as the worst sort of debating society. But this characterization misconstrues its purpose and sees it as a site for traditional policy deliberation. In fact, it is a legitimation body. The Assembly provides a venue for the development of international humanitarian values and a place where at its best, the powerful feel the opportunity, and occasionally the compulsion, to come to justify their actions. The power of the General Assembly is moral suasion and its most important work is developing values and framing institutional policy legitimation.

Our interest today is primarily in the General Assembly. The Assembly is caught in a contradiction. It is not democratic in composition, being organized around the nation-state and granting a seat and a voice to those nation-states. Yet, it is democratic in argumentative design, planned as a place for debate and focused on the creative power of hearing all perspectives. Read more