A Theory of Contemporary Rhetoric (16 page)

The rise of interest in argumentation, then, is a result of a complex combination of factors. A further dimension is digitally driven social networking innovation. By reference to this social phenomenon, we mean not only social network sites such as Facebook, but also means by which academics and the general population come together to solve problems online. Crowdsourcing, specialist interest groups, blogs, Wikipedia, and online colloquia are examples of such networking that operate outside the institutional framework for the generation and production of knowledge. One could criticize these innovations for working toward a weak consensual view of knowledge that is the result of the accretion of different views and perspectives, but the grit of argumentation in the production of knowledge is evident in questioning, challenging, and refinement of accepted truths. Perhaps more positively, the realization of the provisional nature of knowledge and its grounding in dialogic exchange is testimony to the live, argumentational nature of knowledge production and dissemination.

To return to the wider theme of the relationship between argumentation and rhetoric, we could say that the increased interest in argumentation in demotic, academic, professional, and governmental contexts puts an onus on rhetoric to sharpen the tools of argumentation so that debate is clear, based on evidence, logical, understood in its wider social and political functions, and fit for purpose. Rhetoric thrives when it is
needed
. It is a means by which to make sense of the function of argumentation in societies, so as a theory it need not build up a bank of devices, a set of
progymnasmata
(exercises), or an orthodoxy of approach, but rather oil the wheels of democracy by providing the following: an awareness of the power and limitations of communication in whichever mode or modes, a sense of the affordances of each of the modes, an understanding of the relationships between modes and media, and a critical perspective on communication and action and how they work in relationship to each other. Nor are rhetoric and argumentation to be seen as purely intellectual, rationalist activities; passion and feeling are as much part of the everyday and political dimensions of rhetoric. A
contemporary
rhetoric must acknowledge the range of thought and feeling that goes into communication.

If rhetoric can be considered as “the arts of discourse,” which arts are employed in the development and maintenance of good argumentation?

Again, we can use Habermas (1984) to start the exploration of the importance of argumentation to learning: “Argumentation plays an important role in learning processes as well. Thus we call a person rational who, in the cognitive-instrumental sphere, expresses reasonable opinions and acts efficiently; but this rationality remains accidental if it is not coupled with the ability to learn from mistakes, from the refutation of hypotheses and from the failure of interventions” (18).

The first assumption here is that we would (like to) “call a person rational” in a reasonable society: one who not only expresses reasonable opinions and acts “efficiently” but who also can listen to and appreciate others' opinions and arguments. What follows is more relevant to our developing argument that rhetoric and argumentation are essential, not only to society but also to learning in contemporary societies: “this rationality remains accidental if it is not coupled with the ability to
learn from mistakes, from the refutation of hypotheses
and from the
failure of interventions
” (Habermas 1984, 18). The refutation of hypotheses is the most obviously central characteristic of argument, linked closely to the freedom to oppose, to refute, and, indeed, to rebut refutations. Such refutation can be in relation to various elements of an argument: to use Toulminian terms, refutation can be of the proposed relationship between a proposition or claim and its “warrant”; it can be between the evidence, data, or grounds and the warrant; and it can also be between the “backing” and the warrant; that is, in the very assumption that a particular set of values or disciplinary practices require a certain set of warrants (for this, read methodologies and methods) to validate them.

But “learning from mistakes” and from “the failure of interventions” are also key to argumentation within rhetorical theory and within democratic societies. As I write, a bill to reform (indeed, to marketize) the National Health Service is currently going through the UK parliament. It is facing problems and has already come back to parliament with 136 revisions to the original proposal. However, there is criticism from all political parties that the fundamental principles of the bill are flawed and that the government needs to go “back to the drawing board,” to first principles. Learning from this “mistake” could be costly to the government, not only in time and resource, but also in reputation. It may take a surface approach and attempt to see through the bill, with some further amendments, on the basis of its majority in parliament—this might be seen as a “purely rhetorical” approach. A more deeply rhetorical approach would be to engage democratic principles—not just its democratically elected majority
in the parliament—and admit the failure of its intervention, learn from its mistake, and rethink the whole problem. The reasons politicians are usually reluctant to learn from mistakes is that they are driven, ultimately, not by the good of the nation but by their desire to stay in power.

Argument
is itself a contentious term. It refers to everyday arguments— tiffs, spats, rows, argy-bargies—that take place in domestic, professional, and public contexts and that at the same time appall and fascinate, divide and unite us. But it also refers to the most highly prized type of academic discourse: something that is deemed essential to a thesis, to an article in a research journal, to a dissertation, essay, and to many other kinds of writing within schools and the academy.

When the whole range of definitions of argument is considered, there are a number of aspects of argument that are highlighted: the two broad definitions cited previously, but also “the working out of a third point from two given points” in logic and in mathematics and astronomy. More specifically, with regard to mathematics: “the angle, arc or other mathematical quantity from which another required quantity may be deduced.”
Argument
also meant to Swift and his contemporaries a synopsis of the plot: each of the chapters of
Gulliver's Travels
begins with a short “argument.” The argument in this case is pure chronicle, the bare bones of the narrative. Embodied in such a definition is the notion that a narrative can signify an argument and that what follows in a time sequence or narrative sequence (not always the same thing) somehow is a causal result of what came before: the principle of
post hoc ergo propter hoc
(after this, therefore because of this). Parables and fables are examples of compressed narratives that are clearly and explicitly argumentational. But, if you accept the
post hoc
… principle, all anecdotes, all stories, and all novels are arguments to one degree or another. The two meta-genres, narrative and argument, simply operate in different ways: the first, largely inductively, and the second largely deductively.

A final aspect of argument is the process of argument: argumentation. This is a technical term, distinguishing the processes of argument from the phenomenon, the product, the thing itself.

In a January 2009 issue of
The New York Review of Books
(Link 2009), China's Charter 08 was translated into English with a preface and postscript by Perry Link. Charter 08 was composed in 2008, conceived in admiration of the Czechoslovakian Charter 77. As Link says, it “calls not for ameliorative reform of the current political system, but for an end to some of its essential features, including one-party rule, and their replacement with a system based on human rights and democracy” (54). The charter sets out the historical context, a set of fundamental principles,
and a section on “what we advocate.” In other words, it is radical, polemical, and, in an authoritarian context, highly risky. Link records in his post-script that a number of signatories of the charter were, in the days running up to its announcement on December 10, 2008, visited in their homes by the police for what is described as a “chat” and threatened with prison. “Do you want three years in prison,” they are quoted as saying, “or four?” Even in that short sentence, the uncontestable power of authoritarianism is present. Indeed, Liu Xiaobo, one of the first signers of the charter and a veteran of Tiannanmen Square in 1989, was taken away by police on December 8 and in late January 2009 was still in detention “somewhere in the suburbs of Beijing.” My point here is not so much about the politics of China as about the importance of argument in an authoritarian society even when it is denied.

Not that democracies are pure when it comes to detention, nor the free passage of argument and argumentation. We only have to consider the war against terrorism, the reasons proffered for the invasion of Iraq, and the establishment and use of Guantánamo Bay to find actions taken without argument and without the application of valid evidence. The proposed closing of Guantánamo—the very first act promised by the new president of the United States—seemed like the act of a
deus ex machina
until we remember that it is the result of a democratic process and that the dismantling of Guantánamo and its supporting infrastructure of fear and, more importantly, a proper legal and judicial review of its detainees will require a great deal of patient, detailed, and passionate argumentation. By 2013, however, it had not taken place.

Democracies, in general, are seen to be the natural home for argument because they are in tune with change: creating, understanding, tolerating, and resolving difference, where possible. Argument is prized in true democracies, just as it was in the crucible of pre-Athenian and Athenian democracy. It is seen as the
sine qua non
, the very life-blood of democracy in action. Behind the centrality of argument in such societies is the notion that “truth emerges from the clash of opposites” or that the quality of life can be enhanced by arguing out the best way forward; that by, at first, polar opposition and then by degrees, refinement of a proposition takes place until it becomes workable law and practice. This is the function argument has within democratic societies. One has to accept that, in the end, the decision on how to move forward may be taken by one person, or that he or she may be the leader of a party that has a numerical majority, but the base of the iceberg of that process is argumentation.

Imagine, for a moment, a world without argument. It would either be an authoritarian or tyrannical state, or like the island of Tennyson's lotus-eaters, where “All round the coast the languid air did swoon/Breathing like one that hath a weary dream”—a land where intellect and difference are suspended. So simply to wake up, to be fully conscious, is to be ready
for argumentation; for discussion “with edge.” You might think Buddhism worked toward a state where there was none of the pull-and-push of Hegelian dialectic, no division, a melting of self and the world—and so, in essence, it is, but of a very different kind from Tennyson's One of the most interesting strands in the International Society for the Study of Argumentation conferences, which happen every four years in Amsterdam, is on “Buddhist argumentation.” Buddhists enjoy argument as both a space in which they can play at dialecticism in which the world is trapped, or use it to break through to higher ground.

Back in the world, and more locally, negotiations over a curriculum, or debates about what should go in a core module for a new Masters program, require argument. In our professional lives, argumentation plays an important part because, again, it is a means of resolving difference, a way of exploring an idea to its logical conclusion, and a means by which a range of views can be expressed, arrayed, clarified, and then used to form the basis for a decision, based on the best available evidence. You may not end up agreeing with the way forward in a particular situation; but if you have had a chance to express your views, challenge existing orthodoxies, and make a difference to the outcome, you feel enfranchised and engaged. You can sidle off and grumble if you lose the argument, or you can marshal your resources and re-enter the argumentational fray. Those who can see the process for what it is worth, who can see the limitations of power and see that argumentational exchange is a force for good, can sometimes prize the process more than the outcome. There is a danger in that position, of course, because you can end up winning the arguments or enjoying the argumentational process, but losing the battle for
what happens
once a consensus of sorts is agreed.

Even more locally, arguments take place in everyday life, in domestic and personal circumstances, from time to time. Sometimes, it has to be admitted, the generation of an argument can lead to division and estrangement, even to violence (though it is hoped that argumentation, in both personal and political settings, would be a key way of resolving difference without recourse to violence). In most cases, however, arguments or tiffs, spats, and rows have a number of functions. They are often triggered by something that is not the real cause of the difference. The real causes emerge during the course of the exchange, but the functions include clarification of position, catharsis, recognition, discovery of the truth, and defense of your position. Rarely does a personal argument end up doing what the participants think it does: persuading the other party to accept your point of view.

In fact, argument and argumentation are not the same as persuasion, despite Aristotle's definition of rhetoric (one of argument's principal theoretical frameworks) as “the art of persuasion.” Advertisements persuade, physical presence sometimes persuades, but they don't always argue their case. Persuasion can be seen as one of the functions of argument, alongside
clarification, catharsis, amusement, defense, attack, and winning, as well as the discovery of ideas and the creation and resolution of difference. Having separated the phenomenon of argument and its process, argumentation, from the function of persuasion, there is one other ground-clearing act that needs to be done before we can go on to explore the theoretical hinterland of argument in education. Argument, while properly associated with rationality, is often opposed to passion and feeling. As suggested earlier in this chapter, rather than accept such an easy polarity, argument and rationality can be seen as deeply implicated in passion and feeling. There are many examples of this close relationship in personal and public life. One such example centers on the notion of
intuition:
you will hear people say “I decided that intuitively” or “My intuition told me that …” Rather than see intuition as diametrically opposed to argument and argumentation, it is possible to see it as
high speed rationality
.