Models for Arguments I. Three models for argumentsA. the

Models for Arguments
    Good morning, everyone. My name is David and I am good at arguing. So, welcome to our introductory lecture on argumentation. Why do we want to argue? Why do we try to convince other people to believe things that they don’t want to believe? Is that even a nice thing to do? Is that a nice way to treat other human being, try and make them think something they don’t want to think? Well, my answer is going to make reference to three models for arguments.
     (1)The first model—let’s call this the dialectical model—is that we think of arguments as war, and you know what that’s like—there’s a lot of screaming and shouting and winning and losing.(2)And that’s not really a very helpful model for arguing, but it’s a pretty common and fixed one. I guess you must have seen that type of arguing many times, in the street, on the bus, or in the subway. Let’s move on to the second model. The second model for arguing regards arguments as proofs. Think of a mathematician’s argument. Here’s my argument. Does it work? Is it any good?(3)Are the premises warranted? Are the inferences valid? Does the conclusion follow the premises?(4)No opposition, no adversariality—not necessarily any arguing in the adversarial sense.(5-1)And there’s a third model to keep in mind that I think is going to be very helpful, and that is arguments as performances, arguments as being in front of an audience.(7)We can think of a politician trying to present a position, trying to convince the audience of something.(6)But there’s another twist on this model that I really think is important, namely, that when we argue before an audience, sometimes the audience has a more participatory role in the argument. That is, you present your arguments in front of an audience who are like the juries that make a judgment and decide the case.(5-2)Let’s call this model the rhetorical model, where you have to tailor your argument to the audience at hand.
    Of those three, the argument as war is the dominant one.(8)It dominates how we talk about arguments, it dominates how we think about arguments, and because of that, it shapes how we argue, our actual conduct in arguments. We want strong arguments, arguments that have a lot of punch, arguments that are right on target. We want to have our defenses up and our strategies all in order. We want killer arguments. That’s, the kind of argument we want. It is the dominant way of thinking about arguments. When I’m talking about arguments, that’s probably what you thought of, the adversarial model. But the war metaphor, the war paradigm or model for thinking about arguments, has, I think, negative effects on how we argue.(9)First, it elevates tactics over substance. You can take a class in logic argumentation. You learn all about the strategies that people use to try and win arguments, and that makes arguing adversarial: it’s polarizing. And the only foreseeable outcomes are triumph—glorious triumph—or disgraceful defeat.(10)I think those are very destructive effects, and worst of all, it seems to prevent things like negotiation and collaboration. Um, I think the argument-as-war metaphor inhibits those other kinds of resolutions to argumentation.(11)And finally—this is really the worst thing—arguments don’t seem to get us anywhere: they’re dead ends. We don’t get anywhere.
    Oh, and one more thing.(12)That is, if argument is war, then there’s also an implicit aspect of meaning—learning with losing. And let me explain what I mean.(13)Suppose you and I have an argument. You believe a proposition, and I don’t. And I say, "Well, why do you believe that?" And you give me your reasons. And I object and say, "Well, what about...?" And you answer my objection. And I have a question: "Well, what do you mean? How does it apply over here?" And you answer my question. Now, suppose at the end of the day, I’ve objected, I’ve questioned, I’ve raised all sorts of questions from an opposite perspective, and in every case you’ve responded to my satisfaction.
    And so at the end of the day, I say, " You know what? I guess you’re right. " Maybe finally I lost my argument, but isn’t it also a process of learning? So, you see arguments may also have positive effects.(14)So, how can we find new ways to achieve those positive effects? We need to think of new kinds of arguments. Here, I have some suggestions: If we want to think of new kinds of arguments, what we need to do is think of new kinds of arguers—people who argue. So try this: Think of all the roles that people play in arguments. There’s the proponent and the opponent in an adversarial, dialectical argument. There’s the audience in rhetorical arguments. There’s the reasoner in arguments as proofs. All these different roles. Now, can you imagine an argument in which you are the arguer, but you’re also in the audience, watching yourself argue?(15)Can you imagine yourself watching yourself argue? That means you need to be supported by yourself. Even when you lose the argument, still, at the end of the argument, you could say, " Wow, that was a good argument!" Can you do that? I think you can. In this way, you’ve been supported by yourself.
    Up till now, I’ve lost a lot of arguments. It really takes practice to become a good arguer in the sense of being able to benefit from losing, but fortunately, I’ve had many, many colleagues who have been willing to step up and provide that practice for me.
    OK. To sum up, in today’s lecture, I’ve introduced three models of arguments. The first model is called the dialectical model, the second one is the model of arguments as proofs, and the last one is called the rhetorical model, the model of arguments as performances. I have also emphasized that though the adversarial type of arguments is quite common, we can still make arguments produce some positive effects. Next time, I will continue our discussion on the process of arguing.