A PSYCHOLOGICAL VIEW OF ARGUMENTATION

H

WILLIAM E. UTTERBACK

ERBERT SPENCER opened the argument of his essay on the philosophy of Style with this observation:

No general theory of expression seems yet to have been enunciated. The maxims contained in works on composition and rhetoric are presented in an unorganized form. Standing as isolated dogmas-as empirical generalizations, they are neither so clearly apprehended, nor so much respected, as they would be were they deduced from some simple first principle. In this, as in other cases, conviction will be greatly strengthened when we understand the why. And we may be sure that a comprehension of the general principle from which the rules of composition result, will not only bring them home to us with greater force, but will discover to us other rules of like origin.

This obvious utility of rhetorical theory has twice in the history of rhetoric prompted the formulation of a body of psychological principles to systematize and explain the rules of the art, both occasions marking an important step in its development. The history of rhetoric, like that of many another science, begins with Aristotle. He constructed out of Aristotelian psychology the theoretical foundation which first elevated rhetoric from the status of a craft to the dignity of a science. After Aristotle no substantial advance was made in the science of psychology for twenty-one centuries, and it was accordingly not until the advent in the eighteenth century of the "faculty" psychology of Wolff and Tetons that rhetoricians felt the need of reconstruction. Tetons' tripartite division of the mind into the independent "faculties," emotion, reason, and will, then became the basis of a new rhetorical structure developed by Whately and others.

In spite of the enormous strides which psychology has made since the eighteenth century the theory of rhetoric formulated at that time has continued in vogue up to the present day. There is, however, a growing conviction that recent developments in psychology make it The Philosophy of Style, New York, 1920, p. 10.

1

possible and desirable to undertake again the restatement of basic rhetorical theory. Several students, notably James A. Winans 1 and C. H. Woolbert,2 have already addressed themselves to this task of reconstruction. This paper represents an attempt to contribute to the solution of the problem by examining the psychological basis of that portion of rhetoric usually discussed under the head of "argumentation."

I

Argumentation is ordinarily defined as "the art of convincing others by reasoned discourse." We must here emphasize "reasoned” because the use of suggestion and emotional appeal will often convince, at least temporarily, and we wish to exclude these rhetorical methods from the scope of this paper. We are concerned here only with spoken or written discourse which attempts to convince and which does so by proposing "reasons" why the hearer or reader should accept a proposition as true. When we speak of "convincing others," we may mean either one of two quite different things. A speaker may desire to induce in his hearer that momentary state of mind with reference to an idea which leads the hearer to accept it at the time as true, to say, while the idea is in his conscious mind, “I believe, I accept your proposition." On the other hand, the speaker may desire so to affect his hearer's thinking that if his proposition should enter the hearer's mind at some time in the future, it will bring with it that state of mind which constitutes acceptance of the idea. This distinction between the two purposes of argumentation is so useful that it will be worth while to designate each by a separate term. Such words as belief, conviction, acceptance, assent, etc., which might be expected to serve us here, have been worn so smooth by careless and long-continued use that they are used almost interchangeably in ordinary speech. Suppose, therefore, that we somewhat arbitrarily say, let belief be the momentary acceptance of an idea which is at the time in the field of consciousness; and let conviction be that predisposition which determines that when a given idea enters the mind it will bring with it the state of belief. A conviction is thus a potential, or quiescent, belief.

1 See James A. Winans, Public Speaking, New York, 1920, ch. VIII, IX. 'See C. H. Woolbert, "Persuasion: Principles and Methods," Quarterly Journal of Speech Education, V (1919), 12-25, 101-19, 212-38.

Belief and conviction are psychological phenomena. It is in terms of psychology that they may be most fully understood. If psychology can explain the nature of belief and conviction, and more especially if it can tell us the conditions necessary to produce them in another, we will have a basis upon which to erect a theory of argumentation. First, then, let us examine the nature of belief and the conditions necessary to produce it.

Viewed psychologically, belief is an aspect of attention. That is, any idea which prevails stably in the focus of attention is believed. If the reader could hold steadily in the center of attention the idea that the world is flat, he would, for the time at least, believe as implicitly in that doctrine as do Voliva and his followers at Zion City. As James says, "The most compendious possible formula perhaps would be that our belief and attention are the same fact. For the moment, what we attend to is reality." And Pillsbury agrees: "Personally I can discover in a moment of belief nothing but the stable persistence of the idea or state that is believed." 2

When put thus baldly the proposition does not at first appear plausible. Someone objects: by an effort of the Will I can concentrate my attention for a few seconds upon any idea, however absurd, for example, that my name is Napoleon; but I do not therefore believe that I am Napoleon. No, but the idea that you are Napoleon does not prevail stably in the focus of attention; you are holding it there precariously by an effort of the Will. Relax your effort for the fraction of a second and the idea will disappear from the focus of attention. A slightly different objection may be illustrated as follows: I believe that this is the month of December, and yet at the same time I have in mind the idea that it may possibly be May. I am giving my attention to both ideas at the same time, but I cannot believe in both at the same time for they are contradictory. True, the idea that this is May is in your mind, but it is not in the focus of attention. The field of attention may be likened to the circle of light thrown on the ground by a street lamp. The brightly illumined center, corresponding to the focus of attention, shades off imperceptibly into darkness in every direction. It is quite possible for an idea to exist in this twilight fringe while an opposing idea occupies the focus of attention, though this may not often happen under

'William James, Psychology, New York, 1890, p. 322 n.

'W. B. Pillsbury, The Psychology of Reasoning, New York, 1910, p. 57.

normal conditions. It is only while in the focus of attention that an idea gives rise to that state of mind we call belief. This objection suggests another: is it possible for two mutually contradictory ideas to occupy the focus of attention at the same time?

A ten minute introspection will convince one that contradictory ideas cannot prevail stably in the focus of attention at the same time. Either one is in the focus and the other in the fringe of attention, or the two alternate in the focus of attention. One other objection may be worth noticing. It may be argued that one can for a few seconds force into the focus of attention an entirely colorless idea, which is neither believed nor disbelieved, as for example, that this coin will fall heads up. Is this really belief? No, but here again the idea that the coin will fall heads up does not prevail stably in the focus of attention. Relax the Will and it will quickly flicker out, not, in this case, due to the competition of opposing ideas, but because it lacks the emotional intensity necessary to maintain it in the focus of attention. As James says, "The idea to be consented to must be kept from flickering and going out. It must be held steadily before the mind until it fills the mind. Such filling of the mind by an idea, with its congruous associates, is consent to the idea and to the fact which the idea represents." 1

The mere definition of belief in terms of attention does not throw much light on rhetorical method. The rhetorician is concerned, not with the phenomenon of attention itself, but with the means of inducing it. The conditions of attention then are what we must seek to understand.

Obviously the first condition of attention is the initial entrance into consciousness of the idea attended to. This may take place in any one of three ways. (a) An idea already in the focus of attention arouses a dormant idea with which it is connected, and the idea thus awakened succeeds the first in consciousness. This is the familiar phenomenon of association. (b) As the result of little understood subconscious processes an idea may be precipitated abruptly into consciousness, putting to rout any ideas which it may find there. (c) An idea may be called to the surface of consciousness by an external stimulus, i.e., by the perception of an object in the physical environment or by spoken or written speech. This last condition, the perception of the spoken or written word, is the only one over which the 'Op. cit., p. 564.

rhetorician can exercise control and is consequently the only one with which we are here concerned.

When an idea has been called into the conscious field, two conditions determine whether it will quickly lapse from attention or will "fill the mind" with that persistent stability which constitutes belief. The first condition is that the idea must possess a very considerable emotional intensity. An emotionally colorless idea will not prevail stably in the focus of attention. If the idea of the desirability of a protective tariff on steel occurs to, or is brought to the attention of, an illiterate farm laborer, belief in the desirability of a tariff will not result. The idea lacks the emotional energy necessary to maintain. it in the focus of attention. The laborer may humor you by concentrating his mind on the idea for a few seconds, but leave him to his own devices and almost at once "tariff" slips from his attention. But when the same idea enters the conscious mind of a stockholder in the United States Steel Corporation, it is highly charged with emotional energy and will hold a secure place in the center of attention. If we were permitted to pry into the mind of the investor in steel, we would find that the idea of the desirability of a protective tariff forms a part of a complex system of ideas built up around the concept of private gain. The mental elements composing this system, including perhaps such diverse ideas as those of the desirability of voting the Republican ticket and the undesirability of balloon tires, are united more or less perfectly by the bond of logical consistency. All of its elements have a bearing on the central theme, private gain. But the system is also united by the bond of emotional congruity. Each element in the system shares to at least some degree in the affective tone, or emotional charge, if we may call it so, of the entire system. The amount of energy possessed by any element will depend upon the closeness of its connection with the core of the complex. Our conception of the structure of the mind then must be that of an intricate reticular structure, roughly organized into systems on the basis of logical consistency and drawing from the primitive instincts, about which the systems are built up, a supply of emotional energy, or "psychic energy," as Tansley prefers to call it. When an element of one of these emotionally charged systems enters consciousness it possesses, by virtue of its logical connection with the system, the emotional intensity necessary to its maintenance in the focus of attention. The desirability of a protective tariff on steel does not form a