The Art of Argument
Arguments. For most of us, they occur on a near daily basis; from the benign “Blade Runner sucks!” vs. “You’re crazy! It’s a masterpiece!” to the much more malignant “I think we should have pizza for dinner” vs. “No, I want Chinese takeout!”. They are everywhere, all the time, taking every form. But despite they’re ubiquity and mutative power, most arguments can be boiled down into relatively simple structures, with the burden of proof being no different. And of course, like almost all else, this basic structure was studied and archived by the ancient romans, particularly by a man named Cicero, his teachers, and his students. In his book How to Win an Argument, James M. May translates the works and writings of Cicero, fleshing out some key principles that will be summarized below. Let’s begin.
To start, arguments can be stripped of their glitter and glam, and stuffed into one of four categories, or stances. The first type, arguments about facts, are dubbed conjectural arguments. These often take the form of “you did the thing” vs. “no, I didn’t”. Have you ever had someone accuse you of farting when you scoot your chair away from the table? This is a conjectural argument.
“Did you just pass gas at the dinner table?”
“No, it was my chair, I swear!”
This if often followed by an honest, but feeble, attempt to recreate the sound in an effort to prove flatulent innocence. The air in the room then suddenly reeks of shame (and pizza, or Chinese takeout; whichever you decided on for dinner), but we’re getting off topic.
The second type of argument is known as definitional arguments. These arguments take the form of “you did the thing” vs. “yes, I did, but it wasn’t the thing. It was actually this”. To stick with our example of bodily exhaust, one might accuse you of farting when pushing your chair away from the table, to which you would reply “I did make a sound, but it wasn’t a fart; I pooped myself”. The point of contention here lies within the perception of the act itself. On a more serious note, these types of arguments often occur around events of high-level abstraction; racism, justice, good things vs. bad things. These all have high levels of abstraction and are often left to the interpretation of the parties involved.
“You just assaulted that man!”
“It wasn’t assault, I was merely defending myself.”
Our third type of argument involves the quality of one’s actions, and as such, are dubbed qualitative disputes. These disputes often take the form of “you did the thing” vs. “yes, but I had to do it" or “yes but I didn’t mean to do it”. A good example of this is the Heinz dilemma in moral philosophy. The issue goes something as such: your family member is sick. A local drug store has the medication needed for treatment, but it’s expensive and you can’t afford it. Do you steal it to cure your ailing family member, or do you adhere to societies moral framework knowing your family member will die? Assuming you steal the medicine but get caught in the act, the dispute would call into question the quality of your actions. Did you do something illegal? Yes. But was it for a good cause? Debatable.
Our fourth and final type of argument revolves around translation of the situational parameters. In his book How to Win an Argument, Cicero, through the translations of James May, states these disputes require things like the transfer to another court, a change in the form of pleading, the right person is not pressing charges or the charges are being pressed against the wrong person, the charges are presented in the wrong court, or the wrong penalty is being requested. In our day-to-day lives, this may take more subtle, and thankfully, less serious forms. For instance, if you make a sexually overt comment in the workplace, and the finance team is deciding what your punishment would be, this would be a translative error in the dispute; clearly this is an HR problem. Similarly, and thankfully less serious an issue, if a customer has a complaint about a product, this complaint would be best serviced by the customer success team, not the product design team. Another example, a little closer to home: if your child sneaks a cookie before dinner, you’re not going to ask the dog for their opinion on the appropriate punishment (dogs are notoriously easy to bride, so they’ve probably already sided with the child; ask your cat instead). All these examples require proper understanding and translation of the situation in order for the appropriate outcome to manifest.
While knowing the types of arguments is helpful, it’s equally important to know the types of proof so that you can adequately defend yourself, or prosecute others, when engaged in an argument. Cicero outlines two types of proof – non-artistic and artistic – that can be used in prosecution or defense.
The first type, non-artistic proof, can be understood as your classical style of proof. Non-artistic proof would include things like contracts, witness testimony, quantitative data, physical evidence. These are all objective forms of information that you can systematically document and point to when presenting your argument.
The second type, artistic proof, has to do with the way you present the information to the parties involved in casting judgment. Artistic proof involves things like the rationale for your argument, the presentation of the character in question, and the level of emotional arousal in the audience observing the argument. These forms of proof often require more creative elements – such as spoken word, hand gestures, body language, and facial expressions – used during a testimony.
When combined, both these forms of proof come together to create a perception for the audience. A sound synthesis of non-artistic and artistic proof can easily sway the opinions of the audience to believe your side of the story. Rhetoric at its finest. Conversely, only presenting non-artistic proof, or only presenting artistic proof, may leave ample room for doubt to creep into the minds of the audience, weakening your case and leaving your argumentative flank exposed. Like all things in life, the best recipe for success is the path of the middle way, utilizing the strengths of both forms of proof.
In concluding, it’s important to remember that arguments are always going to happen, but that doesn’t mean they have to get mean and nasty. If you should find yourself in a great debate with someone, keep it professional, keep it mature, and remember, victory is only a few well-placed linguistic strokes away. While this piece of writing is brief, and certainly not all-encompassing, it hopefully serves as a nice appetizer for those who enjoy the art of the argument. If you want the full course meal, be sure to check out James M. May’s How to Win an Argument.