Symposium Introduction
It is a familiar observation that arguments can be either information complexes of premises and conclusions or they can be deeds of reason-exchange. You can give an argument or you can have one with another person. In the subfield of logic focused on this deed or actional element of argument, we use the term argumentation to highlight the process of those reasons being weighed and exchanged. Arguments are, for sure, still informational at their core, but we have additional matters to address in navigating those informational questions, particularly because the questions that necessitate arguments emerge in and from the lives we share with others. Once we see that arguments are deeds, the standard moral categories of deeds emerge as we evaluate them: agents and patients, obligatory and permissible acts, and questions of standing and regard. And once we see these categories as salient, we see that argumentation is a fecund site for moral theory.
Three topoi for critical discussion of the ethics of argumentation have emerged in the last few years. First, the adversariality debate regards whether argumentation must be adversarial and what the consequences are for how we might de-escalate many of our very hot discussions. Second, the autonomy debate bears on the question of how paternalistic argumentation is with others whose beliefs we are trying to change, and whether there are more or less objectionable interventions. Third, the appropriateness debates regard the scope of appropriate matters for argument, the standing for who gets to argue (or who must be replied to) or not, and whether particular norms of argument are exclusionary. All three questions are ones emergent from the broad attitude that argumentation theory is applied philosophy, and so should avoid the idealisms of perfect dialogue conditions or assumptions of social or political equality. Rather, philosophers in this research program ask how argument is possible in a world where we’ve consistently failed to meet so many of our ideals of rationality and conditions for rationality.
It is into this churning (and recently emerging) intersection of issues that Katharina Stevens’s The Ethics of Argumentation makes its contributions. Roles as arguers come with arguing, but they can be applied and taken on in a milieu of other standing social roles and expectations. Much of Stevens’s case depends on the core distinction between arguments as premise-conclusion complexes and arguments as reason-exchanges, and here Stevens repurposes James O’Keefe’s terms for actional elements of both—arguing1 is in giving informational complex arguments, arguing2 is in exchanging reasons with others. In this regard, even the informational complexes, insofar as we give them to each other, are still conceived in the arguments-as-deeds view. Consequently, the mereology of the processes of argumentation still grounds out in arguments as informational complexes, but they are manifestations, still, of us giving them. Arguments, at bottom, are deeds, and so an ethics of argumentation is an analysis of argument’s fundamental building blocks.
Here, for this symposium, we’ve collected three scholarly takes on the implications of Stevens’s view. We have questions of whether, if there is an ethics of argumentation, there is an ethics of refusing to argue. We have questions of whether, given power asymmetries having distorting effects on argument, the powerful have greater responsibilities of redressing distortions. There is a question of whether deceptive argument1 and argument2, given the broader functions of reasons at play, must always be morally wrong. So, just as with the possibility of morally permissible (and even obligatory?) lies, are there morally permissible (or obligatory) deceptive arguments? There is a question of how intersectional power analyses are, and whether social identity is a matter of wielding power or some other factor in the exchange. And, finally, we have the meta-theoretical question as to whether particular ideal theories of argument, when applied without attention to unjust intellectual circumstances, instead of improving argument, exacerbate the asymmetries of the cases and perpetuate their injustices. There is, it should be clear, much to discuss and argue2 over here.
10.7.26
On the Possibility of Context-Based Reasons for Deceptive Arguing
On the Possibility of Context-Based Reasons for Deceptive Arguing
Katharina Stevens’s The Ethics of Argumentation offers an entirely new perspective on the normativity of argumentation. The analysis she offers in her book is of impressive breadth and detail, since she sets out an entirely new systematic point of view on this topic. In particular, the book entirely redefines several core notions at different levels of normativity of argumentation, such as the notion of argumentative function at the foundational level. In what follows, I will focus on her account of deceptive arguing (chap. 2), which derives from the normative foundation of argumentation she proposes, grounded in a realist and pluralist view on normative moral reasons.
In chapter 2, Stevens argues that, while there may be only prima facie pro tanto normative reasons against lying, there are always context-independent pro tanto normative reasons against deceptive arguing. However, her position raises difficulties especially regarding how to distinguish the moral status of these two actions in terms of the strength of the normative moral pro tanto reasons against them. In particular, I am not fully convinced that deceptive arguing always undermines self-trust in the way she suggests. My impression is, indeed, that there are two hidden assumptions underlying the claim that deceptive arguing gives rise to a species of deceitfully morally wrong action that is worse than lying, which may be partially challenged.
The first concerns the degree of epistemic responsibility that can be attributed to the addressees of an argument. Stevens endorses a form of belief involuntarism regarding the audience’s acceptance of perceived reasons (32). On her view, rational agents are, by default, compelled to evaluate the reasons presented to them. Their will cannot prevent a “causal impact” between their epistemic states and the reasons offered in an argument, even when these are presented deceptively. Reducing the epistemic responsibility of the addressees, in turn, increases the moral responsibility of the arguer. As Stevens writes when introducing deceptive arguing1: “The perception of a (new) reason enters our mind, that will influence our mind whether we like it or not” (32). She also acknowledges that we only exercise indirect control over our beliefs, through, for instance, seeking further information or considering opposing reasons (33), although she exclusively associates this with cases of inherently honest arguing. This restriction generates a specific negative consequence in deceitful cases. When an addressee is deceived by an instance of deceptive arguing, her self-trust in her own reasonableness is compromised (47). According to Stevens, this humiliates, rather than merely disrespects her, and it is the feature that makes deceptive arguing morally worse than lying.
The second assumption, which I discuss more briefly, concerns the marginal role assigned to intellectual and ethical virtues in Stevens’s account. Although she acknowledges the value of promoting ethically good behavior in rational agents (13), such virtues do not play a central role in her normative framework. By critically examining these two assumptions, one might argue that deceptive arguing is not necessarily more morally wrong than lying. Rather, it may be understood as a form of deceitful action against which we have normative moral pro tanto reasons, though these reasons may be only prima facie.
Let me start with Stevens’s definition of deceptive arguing as “arguing without pursuing the argumentative function” (29). Stevens distinguishes between arguing1 and arguing2 and maintains that there are always context-independent pro tanto moral reasons against deceptively arguing1 and arguing2 (30). Since the argumentative function for both arguing1 and arguing2 is split into a moral and epistemic component, deceptive arguing entails arguing without pursuing at least one of these two functions. Deceptive arguing is inherently either morally or epistemically dishonest (or both). A function of arguing1 is the purported presentation of a reason, and deceptive arguing1 is the merely purported presentation of reasons. In turn, arguing2 is the purported attempt to “make reasonable progress on an issue through the reciprocal identification and evaluation of reasons with (an) other(s)” (37). Deceptive arguing2 only simulates this rational reciprocity, and rational agents may end up only “arguing past each other” (36).
Crucially, both deceptive and non-deceptive arguing1 “presents itself as intrinsically honest” (35) and appear to promote critical reflection in the audience. However, only arguing1 “openly and correctly” presents reasons for a claim and is inherently honest. Deceptive arguing1 does not stimulate critical reflection and exerts directly an illegitimate persuasive and normative force on the addressees. Deceptive arguing2 occurs when people are not collaborating intellectually in an authentic way, and there is the mere appearance of an authentic critical engagement through arguing1 that in a mutual exchange of reasons—rational reciprocity is just pretended.
On this basis, Stevens argues that there are pro tanto normative moral reasons against deceptive arguing1, deceptive arguing2, and lying, since they are all forms of morally wrong deceptions (42). However, Stevens adds that both kinds of deceptive arguing constitute more serious moral wrong than lying. Lying typically involves disrespect. However, we may have pro tanto moral reasons against lying that are only prima facie, since there are contexts in which reasons for lying trump normative reasons against it (54). However, deceptive arguing not only disrespects the addressee but also humiliates her (48). It does so, as it fundamentally disrespects her autonomy and self-governance (49). According to Stevens’s analysis, it follows that we always have context-independent pro tanto moral reasons against deceptive arguing. Crucially, since arguing invites critical reflection in others, deceptive arguing does not break trust in others, but breaks self-trust: a rational agent loses confidence in her own ability to critically assess reasons (48).
Let me then turn now to the first assumption, namely Stevens’s endorsement of a form of belief involuntarism on perceived argumentative reasons. Arguing1 is inherently honest because it stimulates critical engagement of the addressee and promotes the use of different forms of indirect doxastic control. Ways to exercise this indirect control include “seeking new information, thinking of opposing reasons” (33).
On the contrary, deceptive arguing1 falsely stimulates critical engagement, and deceptive arguing2 creates the illusion of reciprocity in a mutual exchange of reasons. Both deceptive arguing1 and deceptive arguing2 do not stimulate any indirect form of doxastic control over our beliefs. Given that we lack direct control over our beliefs as well, the addressee is thus portrayed as highly vulnerable to deception.
However, this account may underestimate the epistemic responsibility of the addressee.
If we allow rational agents to exercise at least some degree of direct rational control over their beliefs, this may affect the connection Stevens draws between deceptive arguing and the undermining of self-trust. In particular, her account seems to overlook cases in which deception might actually contribute to the development of epistemic autonomy. For example, the experience of being deceived may prompt an agent to reassess her competence in a given domain and adjust her beliefs accordingly (see McKeon 2024, 321). This may lead to reactions such as recognizing one’s epistemic limitations or withdrawing from discussions in areas where one lacks expertise, thereby expressing a form of intellectual humility.
Suppose, then, that the addressee (i) has direct control over at least some of her beliefs and (ii) responds to a deceptive argument with intellectual humility. One of the consequences of deceptive arguing can be that the addressee does not lose trust in her own reasonableness when deceived. Instead, it may lead her either to recalibrate her trust in the interlocutor or to treat the experience as an opportunity to strengthen her epistemic autonomy.
Indeed, one might even imagine contexts in which a form of pedagogically motivated deceptive arguing could foster intellectual autonomy and rational self-governance. Just as there are situations in which lying may be permissible because trust is not expected (54), there may be educational contexts in which critical engagement is not initially invited, yet it is permissible for the arguer to deliberately argue deceptively to provoke a constructive epistemic response. Although a full account of such cases lies beyond the scope of this reply, their possibility suggests that, once we incorporate epistemic evaluations, including a partial doxastic voluntarism and the role of intellectual virtues, deceptive arguing may be permissible in certain contexts. This would, however, depend on the arguer’s intentions, in particular a genuine commitment to promoting the addressee’s intellectual autonomy.
To conclude, I am convinced that deceptive arguing prima facie disrespects autonomy and there are pro tanto reasons against it. However, I am not persuaded it undermines the addressee’s self-trust in a way that humiliates her, once additional epistemic considerations are taken into account. If this is correct, pro tanto reasons against deceptive arguing may be only prima facie, much like the reasons against lying may be. But I look forward to discussing more about it.
10.7.26
Trust, Autonomy, and Deceptive Arguing: A Response to Davide Dalla Rosa
Trust, Autonomy, and Deceptive Arguing: A Response to Davide Dalla Rosa
The very best thing that can happen when someone comments on your work is that they draw your attention to something you hadn’t considered. I am so grateful to Davide Dalla Rosa for doing just that. In his comment, Dalla Rosa points out that people may benefit from diminished self-trust—namely if their self-trust was over-inflated before. And so, they may also benefit from learning that they fell for a fallacy or some other form of deceptive arguing—making the fact that deceptive arguing undermines trust only a prima facie moral reason against it. I think this is correct, and I believe that I should amend my trust-based argument based on this insight.
Now, importantly, in the book I say that I believe we have context-independent moral reasons to foster trusting relationships and not undermine them—and I treat this as a basic premise, together with the equally basic premises that we have context-independent moral reasons not to cause harm and to promote well-being and that we have context-independent reasons to respect the standing of other human beings as reasonable and therefore autonomous persons. In other words, I treat trust as a kind of base value. So, it might be strange that I so readily admit that, indeed, it might be a good thing when someone who has too much trust in themselves loses some of it. Davide Dalla Rosa suggests looking at the issue from the point of view of virtue theory: people may become more virtuous (i.e., humble) when their over-inflated self-trust diminishes to a more appropriate size. I think this is likely true, but I would like to stay with the idea that trusting relationships are in themselves valuable—that trust is a basic moral value. The trick here, I think, is that a valuable relationship, even one with yourself, must be balanced in the sense that the amount of trust that the people in it have for each other should be proportional to how trustworthy they are. And, famously, trustworthiness has elements not only of goodwill, but also of competence. It is a mistake to trust someone with respect to some matter if they are incompetent with respect to that matter. I think, then, Dalla Rosa may have alternatively put his point like this: Finding out that I am limited with respect to my competence in identifying fallacies and rhetorical tricks can be healthy for the trusting relationship I have with myself. And this can happen if my response is to re-evaluate my competence, and then to trust myself to integrate meta-level reasons about my competence into my critical engagement with other people’s arguments1 in the future (this, by the way, is also how I think Dalla Rosa could have argued his case without having to rely on the assumption that we have direct control over our beliefs).1 If this happens, then in effect, the experience of having been deceived in argument has not undermined, but improved my trusting relationship with myself.
I think that this version of Dalla Rosa’s argument hits the nail on the head and draws into question whether our trust-based reasons against deceptive arguing are really context-independent. For further, Dalla Rosa points out that sometimes, arguers may argue deceptively with the goal of making their interlocutors recalibrate their self-trust to a more appropriate level. And again, I agree. In fact, I do this. In critical thinking class. I show my students how easy it is to fall for fallacies because I find it important that they take them seriously, and because I know that most people overestimate their own ability to spot them. I have the best intentions when I argue deceptively like this, of course, and I tell my students what I have done very soon after. This is necessary since, if I didn’t, I would be abusing their trust both in me and their trust in themselves. Telling them is what ensures that their trusting relationship with themselves will benefit from the exercise.
So, with respect to trust, I agree with Dalla Rosa. I do not, however, think I agree with him when it comes to autonomy. I must admit that I always feel a bit slimy when I use a fallacy on my students like that. It might be for their own good and therefore all things considered justified. But I do think that there is a pro tanto reason against it, just one that is made very light by the immediate disclosure, and that pales in comparison with the pedagogical benefits. This reason exists because even in this case, my behavior is disrespectful of their standing as autonomous people in an important sense, and differently so than mere lying would be.2 To show why the autonomy-based and the trust-based reasons against deceptive arguing are importantly different, it might be helpful to briefly explain the autonomy-based reason here.
In the book, I point out that lying is disrespectful of autonomy because lying constitutes treating another person in a way that is arbitrarily designed to make futile their attempts at governing their own lives via assessing their own reasons. This is because lying is designed to falsify the victim’s impression of how the world is—and that, in turn, undermines their ability to self-govern through assessment of their reasons.
I go on to say that I am not sure whether this constitutes a context-independent or a merely prima facie reason against lying because it seems that there are certain kinds of “lies” that are not designed to generate such a false impression (like saying “fine” in response to a passing question about how one is doing, even if one is not fine) or that act as a kind of self-defense against illegitimate questioning. However, I admit that I am not sure whether these acts really constitute lying, or whether they constitute something else. And I leave it open whether lying is context-independently or only prima facie wrong on this basis—because some lying (if it then counts as lying) does not aim to falsify another’s impression of the world in a way designed to arbitrarily make futile their attempts at self-governance.
But I argue that deceptive arguing always aims at making futile another’s attempt at assessing their own reasons, and therefore always disrespects the right to self-governance—and that it does so in an especially disrespectful way. This is because arguing appeals to a person’s self-respect to exert its persuasive force: A person who is confronted with an argument for a claim is invited to critically evaluate this argument. If the argument passes the evaluation, then the addressee’s self-respect for their own ability to govern themselves with their own reasoning requires of them to adjust their beliefs accordingly. Arguing, then, uses self-respect to generate adherence conditional on the addressee’s positive evaluation of the argument. But deceptive arguing is designed to generate this positive evaluation through deception. It therefore abuses the addressee’s self-respect to generate adherence. This is a special kind of disrespect. I do not know of any kinds of deceptive arguing that don’t involve this twisting of self-respect into a tool for deception, and therefore I know of no reason to consider it possible that the autonomy-based reasons against deceptive arguing are only prima facie. This, of course, does not mean that they cannot be outweighed—they are still only pro tanto.
Importantly, I think that Dalla Rosa is correct that in cases like my deceptive use of fallacies in the critical thinking classroom, deceptive arguing may ultimately enhance the future ability of the addressee to self-govern effectively—namely if it improves the trusting relationship with oneself and thereby makes reasoning more reliable in the future. But I think this is a different point: people can, at the same time, deserve to be treated respectfully of their standing as autonomous beings with a right to self-govern based on their own reasoning and be in need of improvement when it comes to their ability to exercise this right effectively.
- I might take this opportunity to add a quick clarification. I should say that I did not claim that deceptive arguing never in fact prompts critical engagement—it might. What I said was that when people argue deceptively, then they issue the invitation to critically engage, but build things into their arguing that are intended to undermine that same critical engagement. Of course, the attempt to undermine can fail, but that an attempt at doing something wrong fails does not mean that the attempt wasn’t wrong. ↩
- In the book I called it “humiliating,” and since people have told me that this was not a good choice because “humiliating” does not quite convey what I wanted to convey, I have come to agree. I should have made up a term for the kind of disrespect I am interested in here. ↩
10.12.26
Understanding and Evaluating the Role of Power within (The Ethics of) Argumentation
Understanding and Evaluating the Role of Power within (The Ethics of) Argumentation
One of the many contributions Katharina Stevens makes in The Ethics of Argumentation is her analysis of the ways in which dominant theories of normative argumentation neglect the role of power in object-level argumentation. This issue is especially salient in the “opening stage.” Stevens argues, “Implementing an opening stage obscures both the influence of object-level arguing on argumentative norms and the influence of personal power, hiding the moral responsibility that powerful arguers have, including from themselves” (5).
I agree with Stevens that normative argumentation theory should abandon the opening stage and that arguers must remain attentive to the role of power within object and meta-level argumentation (5). It is, indeed, impossible for power disparities to be left at the meta-level door and for arguers to step neutrally into object-level arguing. And, while not everything that is required for an ethics of argumentation can be accounted for in this one book, I will make one suggestion in this paper: that future iterations of the ethics of argumentation include some tool(s) for guiding arguers (and perhaps analysts) in weighing social factors that function in tandem with power—specifically, social identity categories such as race, gender, ability, and class, among others, given that they frequently shape argumentative contexts.
I am motivated by a worry that, just as without an applied ethics arguers lack guidance for engaging in moral reasoning, without guidance on how to evaluate the role of social identity in shaping argumentative contexts, arguers will be ill-equipped to assess the role of power in argumentation. I agree that an ethics of argumentation already does better than the dominant, Millsean, single-set theories because it makes the advantages of powerful arguers explicit (63). However, to know power relations exist at the meta- and object-levels is not also to know what those relations pertain to and how to (re)assign responsibilities in light of them. We do not yet have a tool—or the intent to search for a tool—that can guide arguers through an understanding and evaluation of how power relations interact with certain factors, such as social identity.
One may think that such guidance regarding social identity is not necessary for an ethics of argumentation because the kind(s) of reasoning one must engage in to address power disparities is not strictly moral. Nevertheless, guidance for this kind of reasoning is pertinent to an ethics of argumentation because social identity influences moral reasoning through power: as Stevens explains, power disparities affect the moral responsibility of arguers. And, since power will continue to function along lines of race, gender, ability, class, etc., given that the related systems of oppression will persist, normative argumentation theorists can expect this kind of problem to continuously face arguers, with some frequency.
Consider the following example. In the context of normative argument design, two women—one white and one Black—are meta-level arguing about what roles and norms they should take up. The white woman says they should both abide by a norm of politeness. The Black woman explains that norms of politeness are often used to exclude and silence Black women in conversations,1 to which the white woman responds, “But we’re both women, so you don’t have to worry about that.” The white woman fails to understand and correctly evaluate the power relations at play. If left unaddressed, the normative argument design would include at least one norm to the detriment of the Black woman arguer—a burden not faced by the white woman arguer.
What resources do the arguers have to rectify this problem? That is, what resources does an ethics of argumentation provide to assist arguers in reaching an understanding, and not just an awareness of, the issue? Having already tried to explain why the normative argument design should not include a politeness norm, the Black woman may decide to proceed to object-level arguing after assessing that she cannot risk losing energy by arguing at the meta-level about the politeness norm—energy that she will need at the object-level. This is a likelihood Stevens is attuned to (79). Also, while the white woman was made aware that the politeness norm is an issue, we may grant that she genuinely does not understand the issue, given her assessment that both she and the other arguer are women. Or, she may think that she did, in fact, address the concern raised—again, by pointing out that both arguers are women. So, how can she correctly assess the situation?
I think Stevens would rightly say that the white woman must take into account the role of power. But again, my worry is that the guidance on moral reasoning provided by applied ethics and role-based ethics is not the kind of reasoning this arguer must engage in here. So far, the ethics of argumentation can make arguers aware of power disparities and motivate arguers to address them, but it does not provide them with tools to understand it.
What the white woman arguer does not understand is that the relevant factor is not just gender, but the intersection of race and gender. I propose that intersectionality is a helpful tool for understanding this. Intersectionality is born out of the experiences of Black women, who, in recognizing that they have multiple, complex, and interlocking identities, conversed and wrote about this idea throughout the last two centuries (even before Kimberlé Crenshaw coined the term in 1989). While its complexity, history, and varying definitions cannot be explicated in the space I have here, the following definition will suffice for the purposes of this paper: intersectionality “. . . offers a rich philosophical framework for contemplating being-in-the-world and being-with-others. Intersectionality is a term that refers to the multiple, interconnected layers of existence and identity (including but not limited to the existential, political, social, and personal—and ranging from race, class, gender, sexuality, nationality, ethnicity, culture, and religion, to one’s relationship with oneself and with others)” (Belle 2011, 275).
Some of the core commitments of intersectionality, as part of Black feminism, resonate with Stevens’s project. First, intersectionality is antithetical to single-axis frameworks (Crenshaw 1989, 139); in a similar vein, Stevens’s ethics of argumentation is set in opposition to single-set theories. Second, both emphasize the importance of attending to the role of power. Kathryn S. Belle writes, citing Patricia Hill Collins, “We must remain as attentive to unjust power relations as we are of intersecting identities and oppressions. Collins explains, ‘treating race, class, and gender as if their intersection produced equivalent results for all oppressed groups obscures differences in how race, class, and gender are hierarchically organized, as well as the differential effects of intersecting systems of power on diverse groups of people’” (Belle 2011, 280).
With this insight, the white woman arguer in the example above, as well as argument analysts, are better equipped to evaluate where she went wrong and how she might course-correct. This is because, by assuming that any detrimental effect the politeness norm might have on the Black woman arguer is avoided due to the arguers’ shared experiences as women, the white woman fails to account for the role of power in creating a unique experience for her fellow arguer. She treats race and gender as two stand-alone categories, and as a result, she generates what Collins calls a “myth of equivalent oppression” (Belle 2011, 280). The politeness norm is a problem for the Black woman not just because she is a woman, nor just because she is Black, but because she is a Black woman (King 1988, 47).
As Stevens rightly notes, analyzing social identity is not sufficient for an analysis of power in argumentative contexts (160), but it is a consistently relevant factor in argumentation. I hope my proposal and explanation has been sufficient to demonstrate that the reasoning required for understanding and evaluating power, particularly in relation to social identity, is harmonious with moral reasoning, both in its complexity and in its need for guidance. Adding a tool, such as intersectionality, to further support the excellent ethical framework Stevens puts forward would, I believe, complement many of the core commitments and contributions Stevens provides in The Ethics of Argumentation.
References
Belle, Kathryn S. (published as Kathryn T. Gines). 2011. “Black Feminism and Intersectional Analyses: A Defense of Intersectionality.” Philosophy Today 55 (Supplement): 275–84. https://doi.org/10.5840/philtoday201155Supplement68.
Crenshaw, Kimberlé. 1989. “Demarginalizing the Intersection of Race and Sex: A Black Feminist Critique of Antidiscrimination Doctrine, Feminist Theory and Antiracist Policies.” University of Chicago Legal Forum 1989 (1): 139–67.
Henning, Tempest M. 2021. “‘I Said What I Said’—Black Women and Argumentative Politeness Norms.” Informal Logic 41 (1): 17–39. https://doi.org/10.22329/il.v41i1.6687.
King, Deborah H. 1988. “Multiple Jeopardy, Multiple Consciousness: The Context of a Black Feminist Ideology.” Journal of Women in Culture and Society 14 (1): 42–72. https://doi.org/10.1086/494491.
Stevens, Katharina. 2025. The Ethics of Argumentation. Routledge.
- See Tempest M. Henning’s “‘I Said What I Said’—Black Women and Argumentative Politeness Norms” for a thorough analysis of politeness norms in argumentation. ↩
10.12.26
Building the Conceptual Toolbox: A Response to Alison Emery
Building the Conceptual Toolbox: A Response to Alison Emery
In her insightful commentary, Alison Emery suggests that a future ethics of argumentation ought to include tools that arguers can use to take the influence of social factors, especially social identity, into account when they determine how to engage ethically in argumentation. I wholeheartedly agree. I believe that a fully developed ethics of argumentation needs to include a whole set of conceptual tools for understanding the way in which social identity shapes the relationships of power between arguers, as well as how social identity influences arguers’ needs and vulnerabilities during argumentation. In fact, this is probably one of the tasks that ought to be tackled as soon as possible in the development of such an ethics.
In the book, I attempted to suggest as much by calling for the development (or import) of normatively thick descriptive terms that address social identity and the hurdles arguers face because of the structures of marginalization and oppression that characterize modern society (and, as Emery correctly points out, can be expected to characterize our societies into the future). I gave some examples of some such terms that had already been developed: “oppressive politeness norms,” “argumentative code-switching,” or “argumentative smothering” (Henning 2018, 2021; Hundleby 2013). Terms like these are indispensable as conceptual tools that arguers can use to think through their ethical obligations during normative argument design.
However, I also argued that I should not attempt to offer a suite of such conceptual tools in the context of the book. This is because I intended the book to do two things: to argue for the need of an ethics of argumentation and to provide the groundwork for one. I decided against going further than this by trying to develop a full ethics that would include all the conceptual tools arguers may need. The reason for this was not just that developing such an ethics is a monumental task that I don’t think any single theorist can adequately accomplish, especially not a theorist like myself, who is writing from a position of social privilege (and therefore from a position considerably lacking in epistemic access to certain important areas of knowledge about oppression and marginalization). It was also that I believe that the set of conceptual tools arguers need to make responsible decisions about normative argument design will not only be different in different cultural contexts but also change over time. Developing, maintaining, and updating them should be an ongoing enterprise that I could not hope to adequately undertake in a book of the kind I was writing.
Now, Emery also makes a concrete suggestion for inclusion. She offers the concept of intersectionality as a helpful addition to a complete ethics of argumentation. More than that, if I understand her correctly, then she might have intended to suggest that this specific concept ought to have been a part of the groundwork I was trying to lay in the book. I agree with her that the concept of intersectionality is necessary for arguers to fully understand the ways in which social identities ought to inform morally responsible decision making about normative argument design: Emery is entirely correct that the white woman in her example is making a mistake and (intentionally or not) committing an injustice by dismissing the way in which gender and race intersect and create hurdles for the Black woman that she, as a white woman, does not share. And so, I agree with her that the concept of intersectionality ought to be part of a full ethics of argumentation.
I am, however, less certain that I should have addressed intersectionality specifically in the book I wrote, rather than doing what I did, which is this: I attempted to make clear (though I am still unsure whether I succeeded) that determining who has more power and whose hurdles to participation ought to be prioritized in a given context is a difficult and highly complex task. It is difficult and complex because it requires considering a whole host of factors. Central among these factors are the social identities of the arguers, including intersectional identities. It is deeply relevant that being a Black woman is to face different hurdles than being a brown man, or a white disabled woman, and the specific type and intensity of the experienced injustice and oppression can influence, even determine, which normative argument design is required in a given situation. But there are also factors that have to do with the personal relationship between the arguers. It may, for example, be relevant that one arguer loves the other in an unrequited, but mutually known way. There are factors that have to do with the stakes that each arguer has in the argument. It may, for example, be relevant that one arguer has better exit options than the other, i.e., is better able to deal with it if the argumentative engagement fails or devolves into outright fighting. And there are factors that have to do with personal character traits of the arguers. It may, for example, be relevant that one arguer has a personal history that has created in them a panic response in the face of confrontation. In fact, these latter factors may sometimes outweigh ones having to do with social identity. Whether they do so cannot be determined in advance—it is a contextually dependent question that each arguer faces anew in each argumentative situation. In sum, then, I can say that the conceptual toolbox that arguers need to make morally good decisions definitely includes concepts that enable arguers to engage in considerations about social identity, oppression, marginalization, and structural injustice. But it also includes concepts that enable arguers to consider the moral import of personal character traits, inter-arguer relationships, differences in stakes, and outside obligations. In short: a complete ethics of argumentation must draw on many of the conceptual tools we may develop to help people be morally responsible in general and make them useful for the activity of argumentation. I think I still stand by my choice to leave the development of the conceptual toolbox to normative argumentation theory as a community.
References
Henning, T. 2018. “Bringing Wreck.” Symposium 5 (2): 197–211.
Henning, T. 2021. “‘Don’t Let Your Mouth’: On Argumentative Smothering within Academia.” Topoi 40 (5): 913–24. https://doi.org/10.1007/s11245-021-09751-4.
Hundleby, C. 2013. “Aggression, Politeness, and Abstract Adversaries.” Informal Logic 33 (2): 238–62. https://doi.org/10.22329/il.v33i2.3895.
10.14.26
Weaponization of Ideal Argumentation Theories
Weaponization of Ideal Argumentation Theories
I must admit at the outset that I am very sympathetic to Katharina Stevens’s project, particularly in its de-idealizing tendencies regarding argumentation theory—i.e., the insistence that argumentation theories must be context-sensitive. For that reason, I shall only attempt to strengthen Stevens’s contention that we need context-sensitive theories of argumentation. I do this in two steps.
First, I provide more evidence for her claim that the idealized single-set normative theories of argument, which purport to be context-independent, are currently dominant throughout Western argumentation discourse (68, 171). Second, I would like to illustrate, through a particular example, that single-set theories are perhaps even more harmful than Stevens appreciates when they are deliberately weaponized by arguers. Taken together, it is very easy to weaponize single-set theories, such as the dominant adversarial model of argument (or DAM), against marginalized peoples precisely because DAM is dominant, and one therefore cannot be blamed for deploying it. In effect, I hope to underscore the urgency of Stevens’s project, which advocates the continued development of context-sensitive normative theories of argumentation guided by moral considerations.
Regarding the claim that single-set theories are dominant, I’d like to present evidence from critical discourse analysis conducted by Leonel Lim and Michael Apple (Lim 2011, 2012, 2014; Lim and Apple 2015). Critical discourse analysis can be understood as a research method that seeks to read a text (broadly construed, e.g., a set of sentences, a picture, a song, a cultural habit, etc.). Such discourse analysis is critical in that it seeks to uncover and articulate not only what is literally said in the message but also how it is framed, who the author is, who the (non-)addressee is, the assumptions made about the addressee, the socio-politico-economic context in which the message is embedded, and—perhaps most importantly—what is omitted from the message (Janks 1997). In line with Stevens’s understanding of ideal and non-ideal philosophy (63), we conduct critical discourse analysis precisely to de-idealize our thinking.
Returning to the normative theories of argumentation, Leonel Lim and Michael Apple conduct a critical discourse analysis of Cambridge-commissioned textbooks on critical thinking. Their motivation is that, since these university textbooks are used internationally as canonical guides to what proper reasoning (and arguing) ought to look like and are therefore highly influential, their discursive analysis will give us an authentic picture of how we (ought to) argue in the West.
The findings of this analysis can be summarized as follows (Lim 2011, 788): university students learn that argument evaluation is about
assessing the soundness of arguments—whether particular arguments should be accepted based on the evidential strength of their premises. In addition to an argument’s validity, it asks whether the premises and their assumptions are accurate or reasonable. It does this by considering a taxonomy of common pitfalls and fallacies in reasoning and language.
In other words, the influential view of how we should evaluate arguments closely follows the idea that arguments must be logically valid, and if they aren’t, we can dismiss them. Importantly, this advice is context-independent. As Lim (2011, 788) puts it:
On such a curriculum, thinking that centers on considerations of rightness/wrongness, empathy, care, intuition, etc., become ipso facto deferred if not dismissed. What is privileged is a particularly narrow conception of rationality that accepts as logical only the standards of truth/falsity and validity/invalidity.
I think this work importantly vindicates Stevens’s contention that universities promulgate an adversarial model of argumentation.
But why is the dominance of DAM problematic? As Stevens explains, DAM is a single-set normative theory, meaning it aims to provide norms of argumentation that are independent of the context in which the argument takes place. In other words, DAM, in virtue of being a single-set normative theory, is an ideal theory. As Stevens explains, using political philosopher Charles Mills (63), the general problem with ideal theories is that they abstract away from contextual factors (e.g., power imbalances between arguers of different genders), which creates the impression that such factors do not influence the outcome of argumentative exchange (which is empirically false) and needn’t be accounted for by argument norms. This effect is detrimental to socially marginalized parties, who are disadvantaged by the norms of proper argument. For instance, DAM requires arguers to be comfortable with conflict, thereby disadvantaging those who are not.
So, DAM is dominant and can be harmful when deployed outside its appropriate context. At this point, I would like to extend Stevens’s point about the harm done by single-set theories, for it seems to me that they can be even more harmful when deliberately weaponized.
To get a sense of what I mean, consider the “debate bro” that has proliferated in recent years on online platforms like YouTube. Looking at shows like #WhateverPodcast or Fresh&Fit podcast, we see that a debate bro is a person, usually male (but not necessarily; see online influencers like Pearl Davis or Candace Owens), who invites others, usually female, to “debate” topics like whether “bodycount” (the number of one’s sexual partners) matters or whether cis-women are by nature promiscuous. The problem is that these debates are not conducted in good faith; instead, they serve as a platform for normalizing the misogynistic, homophobic, and often racist worldviews of an internet subculture called the “manosphere.”
What is important here, however, is that these gentlemen purport to adhere to the DAM norms of argumentation (at least until you point out their inconsistencies, at which point they start calling you names) by relying on logic and facts. In doing so, they often reprimand their opponents, who often follow a different set of argumentation norms (they display empathy and use anecdotal evidence or emotional arguments), for not doing the same. Debate bros take the refusal to adhere to DAM as a failure to engage in a (narrowly understood) rational discourse. So, what we are left with is an arguer not only unreflectively following a single set of normative theory but also intentionally forcing others to do the same. The resulting situation creates a sexist picture of rational men patiently educating (i.e., belittling and demeaning) emotional women.
The point is that single-set theories are perhaps even more harmful when used as a weapon to discursively exclude or demean some arguers from the debate. This becomes much more worrisome considering that DAM, a single-set theory, is currently the dominant normative theory of argumentation.
I don’t think this second point in any way challenges Stevens’s argument. In fact, her argument is perhaps stronger precisely because she shows that single-set theories, because they are ideal, harm some arguers even when no malicious intent is involved at any point during the argumentative exchange (83). Therefore, what I say is relevant only to the extent that it increases the urgency, articulated in Stevens’s book, for us to replace the dominant single-set normative theories of argumentation with multi-set ones.
References
Janks, H. 1997. “Critical Discourse Analysis as a Research Tool.” Discourse: Studies in the Cultural Politics of Education 18:329–42. https://doi.org/10.1080/0159630970180302.
Lim, L. 2011. “Beyond Logic and Argument Analysis: Critical Thinking, Everyday Problems and Democratic Deliberation in Cambridge International Examinations’ Thinking Skills Curriculum.” Journal of Curriculum Studies 43:783–807. https://doi.org/10.1080/00220272.2011.590231.
Lim, L. 2012. “Ideology, Class and Rationality: A Critique of Cambridge International Examinations’ Thinking Skills Curriculum.” Cambridge Journal of Education 42:481–95. https://doi.org/10.1080/0305764X.2012.733342.
Lim, L. 2014. “Ideology, Rationality and Reproduction in Education: A Critical Discourse Analysis.” Discourse: Studies in the Cultural Politics of Education 35:61–76. https://doi.org/10.1080/01596306.2012.739467.
Lim, L., and M. W. Apple. 2015. “Elite Rationalities and Curricular Form: ‘Meritorious’ Class Reproduction in the Elite Thinking Curriculum in Singapore.” Curriculum Inquiry 45:472–90.
Stevens, K. 2026. The Ethics of Argumentation. New York: Routledge.
10.14.26
Normative Traps: A Response to Serhij Kiš
Normative Traps: A Response to Serhij Kiš
I want to thank Serhij Kiš for drawing attention to an important aspect of the ethics of normative argument design that I should probably have highlighted more: While I spent a lot of effort in the book to point out how normative design on argumentation can be unintentionally or negligently harmful, I did not emphasize enough that it can also be intentionally used to harm, exclude and oppress. And it absolutely can be, and is, used in this way. In fact, I think that Kiš’s example from the manosphere is just one of many examples of such intentional abuse.
What Kiš points to here is a subtype of what Aikin and Talisse have called the Owl of Minerva Problem—namely the problem that the tools we create to prevent and control abuses in argumentation become weapons for further, and more sophisticated abuse themselves (Aikin and Talisse 2020). In fact, the way in which Aikin and Talisse introduce the problem in their book Political Argument in a Polarized Age fits incredibly well with Kiš’s observations:
Aikin and Talisse point out that one way in which we may ensure that our argumentative engagements stay civil and respectful is by watching our tone. Accordingly, it seems to make sense to ask of arguers that they speak to each other in a way that serves as a constant reassurance that they value and take seriously their conversational partners. Yet, the moment this is recognized as an explicit norm, tone policing becomes a possibility (and one that people engage in almost gleefully, especially during political argumentation). Tone policing is the weaponization of the tone-related civility norm. A person tone-polices their interlocutor if they use the fact that the interlocutor’s tone has slipped out of the socially sanctioned range as a reason to dismiss them. Tone policing moves the topic of discussion away from the issue at hand and toward the arguer—it is a way of showing that the arguer is unfit to contribute. Depending on the kind of tone-slip, it can be used to portray the interlocutor as irrational (if their tone has expressed socially unacceptable amounts of stress, for example) or as abusive (if their tone has expressed socially unacceptable amounts of anger, for example), but it could also be used to portray them as cold and unfeeling (if their tone has expressed socially unacceptably low amounts of emotion).
Kiš’s example of (as he ironically puts it) “rational men patiently educating (i.e., belittling and demeaning) emotional women” connects this insight about tone policing to the way in which argument design can be abused. This is because, as he points out, the reason that the “debate bro” can tone-police their interlocutor in this way is because the social norms surrounding the DAM do not allow heightened emotionality. But the abuse that Kiš points out does not consist solely in the act of tone policing. Instead, it consists in setting up a normative argument design that contains norms forbidding emotionality under conditions where adhering to those norms will be much easier for the debate bro than for their interlocutor—and then deliberately increasing the emotional pressure to encourage a tone-slip. In other words, what Kiš describes as the weaponization of dominant normative models for argumentation is the setting, and then executing, of a normative trap.
It is important, I think, that we note that the DAM is not the only normative model that can be used for traps like this one. While I agree that DAM is the model still associated most with “rational argumentation”, I do not think it is the only argumentative model in use. In fact, as I argue in the book, the reason why both Bailin and Battersby’s inquiry model and Gilbert’s coalescent model are relatively easy to understand for their intended audiences is simple (Bailin and Battersby 2010; Gilbert 1997): these audiences (which include me) are socialized to recognize and participate in the normative structures that those two models capture and refine.
Accordingly, these normative structures, too, can be set as traps. Take coalescent argumentation as an example. It is unlikely that a debate bro will set up a coalescent-type normative argument design, but those designs are regularly used, for example in argumentative exchanges between friends trying to work out how a fight escalated or why a misunderstanding took place (and who should take responsibility for it). And this is also exactly the context in which they can be abused—where, for example, tone policing can happen if someone is acting too distant, or too guarded. I might not be the only one who has witnessed such tone policing—e.g., when someone accuses another of not really caring, or of being inauthentic, because they did not adopt the expected degree of emotional openness.
In sum, then, I would like to sincerely thank Kiš for emphasizing the possibility of abusing normative argument design deliberately—and all I want to add is that I do not think this is a problem only for single-set models. Even if we accept a multi-set model, normative argument design will remain open to intentional abuse—it just is one of the ways in which people can deliberately hurt each other (but since it is always nice to end on an optimistic note, I should say that it therefore is also one of the ways in which people can deliberately help and support each other).
References
Aikin, S. F., and R. Talisse. 2020. Political Argument in a Polarized Age. Cambridge, UK: Polity Press.
Bailin, S., and M. Battersby. 2010. Reason in the Balance: An Inquiry Approach to Critical Thinking. 1st ed. Toronto: McGraw-Hill Ryerson.
Gilbert, M. A. 1997. Coalescent Argumentation. Mahwah, NJ: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates.
10.5.26 Amalia Haro Marchal
Comment on Katharina Stevens’s The Ethics of Argumentation
Comment on Katharina Stevens’s The Ethics of Argumentation
Katharina Stevens’s The Ethics of Argumentation aims to show that ethical considerations should occupy a central place within normative argumentation theory. Her proposal aims to establish the groundwork for the ethics of argumentation “consisting of a moral foundation for normative argumentation theory and the outlines of an applied ethics of meta- and object-level arguing” (3). Along the six chapters, Stevens presents her proposal insightfully and in great detail, focusing on the key aspects that must be taken into account in order to integrate an ethics of argumentation into normative argumentation theory. As she herself notes, however, the ambition of the book is more modest than providing a fully developed theory. Rather, its aim is to “provide both an argument for why normative argumentation theory needs to include an ethics of argumentation and the groundwork for such an ethics” (113). The fuller development of this project, therefore, still remains to be carried out.
Her proposal constitutes a significant contribution to the emerging project of developing non-ideal approaches to argumentation theory (Almagro Holgado and Haro Marchal 2025; Stevens 2025). The aim of this short comment is therefore to take a step further within the de-idealization project that Stevens advances. More specifically, I seek to push this project forward by focusing on some aspects of her proposal that, in my view, call for further development and closer examination.
A key theme running through Stevens’s analysis and overall motivation is the idea that power imbalances shape argumentative practices, both at the meta-level and at the object level. Stevens argues that part of what makes certain approaches to argumentation theory idealized is precisely that they fail to take into account how power relations influence normative argument design (64–66). This concern is central to her critique of single-set theories, which she examines and challenges throughout the book (see especially chapter 3).
As has been pointed out (Almagro Holgado and Haro Marchal 2025), part of the problem with ideal theories is that they rely on both a descriptive and a prescriptive idealization: namely, that all participants can and/or should engage in argumentative practices on equal footing.
In the case of normative argument design, the descriptive idealization can be outlined as the assumption that all arguers follow moral considerations when engaging in normative argument design; the prescriptive one, in turn, assumes that all arguers should follow moral considerations in doing so.
Stevens’s proposal clearly rejects the descriptive idealization. In several parts of the book, she addresses the issue of how certain arguers, the less powerful, due to their underprivileged social positions, are especially burdened with taking moral considerations into account in argumentative practices, and in particular in normative argument design. As she points out:
With regard to the prescriptive idealization, consider the continuation of the aforementioned quote:
In my view, the first part of this claim opens the door to different potential interpretations. If what Stevens means by this is all arguers should have the same obligation to follow moral considerations when engaging in normative argument design, this might appear somewhat akin to the prescriptive idealization. However, the second part of the claim—“[. . .] especially more powerful arguers who do not need to protect themselves”—suggests a different interpretation, as do other claims she makes in the book, especially when she emphasizes the importance of the context in determining who has the greater responsibility for the normative argument design in a given context:
I believe this is the way forward for a fully non-ideal account of normative argument design. As I view it, this requires further elaboration on why more powerful arguers may be especially burdened with moral obligations concerning normative argument design, and how context may influence this. As Stevens notes, and as has been widely shown by feminist argumentation theorists (see Moulton 1983; Govier 1999; Burrow 2010; Rooney 2010; Hundleby 2013; Yap 2020; Henning 2021; and Stevens 2022, among others), less powerful individuals are frequently the target of injustices within argumentative interactions. As a result, they tend to be more attuned and sensitive to ethical concerns, bearing a disproportionate share of the moral burdens required for engaging in normative argument design. This results in a form of overtraining in precisely the skills required for careful normative argument design. Thus, if we take seriously the idea that less privileged individuals already bear a higher burden in these matters, then it follows that not all agents should bear equal moral obligations regarding normative argument design.
At least in some contexts, it should be the more powerful participants who carry the primary responsibility for attending carefully to how the interaction unfolds, both at the meta-level and at the object level, thereby freeing less powerful participants from bearing an undue burden that they often carry. In other words, the time, attention, and resources required to meet the moral responsibilities of argumentation should, in practice, be borne primarily by the more powerful participants. It is worth recalling here a point often emphasized by feminist activism: expecting women to make special efforts to explain why feminist arguments are valid, and to assume that they should always be ready to conduct their arguments in ways that maximize the chances of being understood by audiences that do not share their experiences, while also minimizing those audiences’ resistance to listening, is itself another expression of the unjust demands of care that have traditionally been imposed on women; in other words, it reinstates the already unfair burden of care on them, reproduced within the domain of argumentation.
I believe that Stevens’s proposal is consistent with this perspective, and I agree with her that “What the applied ethics of argumentation ought to do is to help arguers re-train themselves so that, instead, they consider both the appropriate overall functions (and goals) and the needs of all involved” (163). What I would add is that this re-training is not (so) necessary for a significant portion of arguers. In this sense, less powerful arguers may, paradoxically, possess an advantage with respect to normative argument design: it should be the most powerful ones who invest more time and resources into acquiring capacities for ethical normative argument design that oppressed individuals have had countless opportunities to already develop through their heightened exposition to friction and to the need to anticipate and accommodate to their oppressors’ perspectives. Recognizing this fact and continuing the project inaugurated by Stevens requires explicitly acknowledging and integrating the differential burdens and responsibilities of less and more powerful participants into the framework of a non-ideal theory of argumentation.
In addition, I would like to conclude this short comment by pointing to a possible line of inquiry that could extend the project for which Stevens’s book provides the groundwork. This line concerns cases in which arguers have moral reasons not to engage in argumentation. I believe that part of the moral considerations that should guide normative argument design relates to situations in which it may be morally permissible, or even required, not to engage in normative argument design. Such situations may arise, for example, when a less powerful participant perceives—and, as noticed, they are generally better positioned to perceive—that the more powerful party is failing to fulfill their moral responsibility to contribute to a normative argument design that is fair to both parties. In these contexts, it can be appropriate to just resist participating in the exchange, at least until the powerful party acknowledges and assumes responsibility for an ethical design of the argumentative exchange. That is, it seems that the less powerful may at least sometimes have a moral right to withhold engaging in normative argument design if they perceive or anticipate that the more powerful party fails (or will fail) to uphold their ethical responsibilities.
In sum, I believe that moving toward a non-ideal theory of argumentation, for the reasons outlined throughout the book, represents a step in the right direction. Stevens’s work provides a crucial contribution by clarifying the foundations on which such a project should be built.
References
Almagro Holgado, M., and A. Haro Marchal. 2025. “Against the Neutral View of Poisoning the Well.” Argumentation 39 (1): 129–46.
Burrow, S. 2010. “Verbal Sparring and Apologetic Points: Politeness in Gendered Argumentation Contexts.” Informal Logic 30 (3): 235–62.
Govier, T. 1999. The Philosophy of Argument. Vale Press.
Henning, T. M. 2021. “‘Don’t Let Your Mouth’: On Argumentative Smothering within Academia.” Topoi 40:913–24.
Hundleby, C. 2013. “Aggression, Politeness, and Abstract Adversaries.” Informal Logic 33 (2): 238–62.
Moulton, J. 1983. “A Paradigm of Philosophy: The Adversary Method.” In Discovering Reality, edited by S. Harding and M. B. Hintikka, 149–64. D. Reidel.
Rooney, P. 2010. “Philosophy, Adversarial Argumentation, and Embattled Reason.” Informal Logic 30 (3): 203–34.
Stevens, K. 2022. “Silence at the Meta-level: A Story about Argumentative Cruelty.” Philosophy and Rhetoric 55 (1): 76–82.
Stevens, K. 2025. “Standing Norms in Argumentation.” Philosophers’ Imprint 25 (20).
Stevens, K. 2026. The Ethics of Argumentation. Routledge.
Yap, A. 2020. “Argumentation, Adversariality, and Social Norms.” Metaphilosophy 51 (5): 747–65.
10.5.26 Katharina Stevens
Who Needs to Re-train? A Response to Amalia Haro Marchal
Who Needs to Re-train? A Response to Amalia Haro Marchal
I am immensely grateful for Amalia Haro Marchal’s insightful engagement with my attempt to construct the groundwork for an applied ethics of argumentation within the field of normative argumentation theory. Her suggestions are valuable and well-taken, and I agree with much, almost all, of what she has to say.
To begin, she is right to zero in on the project’s ambition to avoid the pitfalls of ideal-theory making. And I think that she is also correct in her claim that less powerful arguers should carry less responsibility for normative argument design than more powerful arguers. The book supports this idea mainly by pointing out that arguers with more power overall also have more power to shape the way the argument will go. This is so simply because the less powerful arguer has more reason to fear the more powerful arguer’s resentment when they try to change the argument’s structure than the other way around: if I am your boss, for example, and I prefer to have a debate over some aspect of the workflow, then you may think twice before risking my resentment by pointing out that you would prefer a more cooperative deliberation about it—but I have much less reason to worry about you resenting me. Since, then, power over argument design is unequally distributed, and since the person with more power over some activity generally also has greater responsibility to ensure the activity goes well, powerful arguers carry more responsibility for how arguments are designed than less powerful arguers.
I also agree with Haro Marchal that arguers who experience structural oppression are regularly and unjustly expected to shoulder more of the burden to design interactions (including arguments) in ways that meet the needs and wants of the privileged. In the book, I use this insight to argue against the idea that it might be too much to expect that arguers can take responsibility for normative argument design. I argue that arguers are fully capable of doing so because, after all, a large part of the population (the powerless) is already constantly designing arguments to suit the needs of others (the powerful). But Haro Marchal rightfully places special emphasis on the moral implications of this point: It is morally unacceptable that the oppressed are forced to acquire competencies and invest efforts to the advantage of the already and unjustly privileged. We ought to demand that the privileged (since many of us will be academics, that is often ourselves) live up to their responsibilities instead of relying on their power to shirk them.
Where, then, do Haro Marchal and I come apart? I am not even sure that we do—but I want to push back on just one of her comments. This is the suggestion that re-training toward treating normative argument design as a moral responsibility of the arguer is “not (so) necessary for a significant portion of arguers.” This re-training, as I understand it, is aimed at making arguers realize that they ought to take responsibility for normative argument design exactly when they do not have to—i.e., when they are in the more powerful position and do not need to worry about offending the more powerful. Haro Marchal suggests that arguers belonging to oppressed groups do not need to learn this, that they are already well versed in it. I agree that arguers belonging to oppressed groups are more likely to be apt at shaping argumentative encounters to fit the needs of their (regularly more powerful) interlocutors. But I am not so sure that this neatly translates into the claim that they are also aware and reliably responsive to the moral reasons that apply to them when they find themselves in the more powerful position.
I suspect that most of us, including most arguers belonging to oppressed groups, move from interactions in which they have less power to interactions in which they have more power and back many times in a single day. Very few of us live lives in which we are always the more powerful person in an interaction, or always the powerless one. Take Haro Marchal’s example of female-presenting arguers making feminist arguments to, presumably, privileged and male audiences. Her example serves to illustrate her point very well: it is indeed unjust when feminist, female-presenting arguers making arguments relating to experiences of oppression also need to design the argumentative situation so that it is non-threatening enough that privileged audiences deign to listen. But it is important to see that those feminist, female-presenting arguers presumably lead full lives with many relationships and have arguments about issues other than those related to their feminism. Maybe, one of them has a friend who is more attached to them than they are to the friend. Or a gay teenaged kid. She might argue with the friend over who ought to apologize for a misunderstanding over a dinner invitation. Or with the kid over whether he ought to be able to close his bedroom door when he has male friends over. And when she does this, she is presumably the more powerful one. In this situation, she will feel much less pressure to adjust her arguing to avoid negative consequences or resentment (the friend is too desperate for her approval, and teenagers are constantly resentful of their parents anyway). But she should shoulder the burden of designing the argument in such a way that her friend or her kid can make their reasons heard. She should be aware that she is now in power, and that her power comes with responsibility. I am not convinced that she will automatically live up to this responsibility just because she is well versed in adapting when she must. Unfortunately, (unjust) suffering does not make a person automatically morally better—or even more aware—of all of her own responsibilities (though, as standpoint epistemologists rightly point out, it does give her better access to understanding that type of suffering, including in others (Hill Collins 2000)).
This is what I have in mind when I point out that arguers ought to ask themselves seriously whether they are the person in power and then shoulder responsibility accordingly. And it is what I mean when I say that we arguers ought to re-train ourselves. I suspect that at the moment, we all learn that the powerful will do what they can and the powerless will suffer what they must when it comes to normative argument design. This is because we have so far treated argumentation as an activity that is subject to epistemic and logical normativity, but overlooked that it is also, and centrally, subject to moral normativity. But as everywhere, this is not what morality demands. Morality demands that we, all of us, learn that when we find ourselves in the position of the more powerful, we must design argumentation so that the less powerful can meaningfully participate. I agree with Haro Marchal, though, that those of us who belong to oppressed groups and unjustly experience powerlessness much more regularly will be more apt at designing argumentation to suit others and will have less to learn in this respect.
I would like to end this response by saying that I very much welcome Haro Marchal’s suggestion that a complete applied ethics of argumentation must also address when arguers ought to engage in argumentation—and when they are justified and required to refuse (further) engagement. I did not address this in the book—partially because I had set myself the task of writing about the way moral reasons apply to how we should behave while arguing, and partially because I think that moral reasons surrounding the question when and when not to engage are immensely complex. I know that Haro Marchal is working on these questions and I am excited to read everything she produces on this matter. My own intuitions arise from my treatment of argumentative encounters as a kind of cooperative enterprise, governed by norms that the participants mutually rely on and whose force is at least partially grounded in this reliance. If that is correct, then it might be fruitful to look toward the literature on the justification for civil and uncivil disobedience—another area where theorists have attempted to make normative theory about when it is permissible and/or required to break norms governing a cooperative enterprise based on mutual reliance (e.g., Rawls 1969).
References
Hill Collins, P. 2000. Black Feminist Thought: Knowledge, Consciousness, and the Politics of Empowerment. 2nd ed. New York: Routledge.
Rawls, J. 1969. “Definition and Justification of Civil Disobedience.” In Civil Disobedience: Theory and Practice, edited by H. A. Bedau, 103–21. New York: Pegasus.