DAMed If You Do; DAMed If You Don’t: Cohen’s “Missed Opportunities”

Sharon Bailin and Mark Battersby

1. Introduction

In his paper, “Missed Opportunities in Argument Evaluation,” Cohen (2015) has in his sights a “curious” asymmetry in how we evaluate arguments: while we criticize arguments for failing to point out obvious objections to the proposed line of reasoning, we do not consider it critically culpable to fail to take into account arguments for the position. Cohen views this omission as a missed opportunity, for which he lays the blame largely at the metaphorical feet of the “Dominant Adversarial Model” of argumentation – the DAM account. We argue here that while Cohen criticizes the DAM account for conceptualizing arguments as essentially agonistic, he accepts its basic framing and does not follow his critique where it leads. In so doing, he misses the opportunity to develop an alternative, non-adversarial account of argumentation which would avoid his criticism of how we evaluate arguments.

2. Missed Opportunity

Let us exam in more detail the conundrum that motivates Cohen’s paper. His focus is the kinds of argumentative moves which are problematic and for which proponents of arguments can and should be held accountable. Among these is the failure to address relevant objections to one’s argument. In such cases, it is part of the mandate of the opponent to the argument to point out such an omission, and failure to do so means being remiss in his or her dialectical obligation.

Cohen notes, however, that missing relevant arguments in support of one’s position is equally problematic as it lessens the potential strength of the argument, yet we do not hold arguers accountable for such omissions. Pointing out this failure is not part of the mandate of the opponent of the argument, and indeed is in tension with this mandate. Nor is it the responsibility of the other, non-direct participants such as evaluators, judges, or audience, as they are to remain neutral with respect to the actual argumentative exchange.

Cohen summarizes the problem thus:

On the one hand, it is taken as fair game to point out obvious objections to a line of reasoning that have not been anticipated. Arguments that fail to do this are not as strong as they could be and should be. Elementary critical thinking textbooks and advanced argumentation theorists all agree that the failure to criticize an argument for failing to take relevant and available negative information into account would be critically culpable. Of course, arguments that fail to take relevant and available positive information into account are also not as strong as they could be and should be, but those same voices are curiously silent on this omission (Cohen 2015, p.121).

Cohen clearly believes that this situation is unfortunate, that it would enhance the quality of the argumentation if this omission were pointed out, and that the absence of this type of positive, constructive critical engagement is a missed opportunity.

3. DAM

One of the main sources of this asymmetry is, according to Cohen, the Dominant Adversarial Model of argumentation (henceforth know as DAM). DAM frames argumentation as essentially an adversarial enterprise in which arguers are opponents or enemies in a battle to win. Offering arguments supportive of an opponent’s position would then be ruled out as tantamount to “giving aid and comfort to the enemy.” Moreover, the required neutrality of those participants not directly involved in the “battle” (such as judges and audience members) eliminates them as a possible source for this type of helpful criticism. Thus there is no one in a position to point out missed opportunities.

4. Adversariality

In advancing his critique of DAM, Cohen adds his voice to those of a substantial number of theorists who have decried the dominance of battle metaphors in argumentation and the framing of argumentation as essentially agnostic (Lakoff and Johnson 1980, Blair 1987, Moulton 1989, Ayim 1991, Bailin 1992, Cohen 1995, Govier 1999, Rooney 2010, Hundleby 2013). This type of adversarial stance prizes winning over reasoned judgment and undermines co-operation, open-mindedness, and a willingness to concede to the strongest reasons. Hundleby, in her analysis of Govier’s view of adversariality, makes the point thus:

Adversarial and aggressive metaphors can foster interpersonal aggression, encouraging people to slide into arguing against each other when they disagree rather than just questioning each other’s ideas. Adversarial structures in law, politics, and debate, and the personal stake we often have in our own views heighten the likelihood that opposing opinions will slip into aggressive modes that interfere with rational exchange (Hundleby, p.240).

Cohen further maintains that these metaphors can interfere with our rational goals since they tend to presuppose that:

the subject at hand can be carved into distinct and opposing positions, and this tends to squeeze the discussion of even the most complex questions into a black-and-white view of the world (Cohen 1995, pp.180-181).

It has been argued, by Govier (1999) among others (e.g., Hundleby, Mouffe, Rooney), that some degree of adversariality is necessary in debates over controversial issues since controversy, by its nature, involves the confrontation of opposing views:

It would appear that in any controversy there must be proponents and opponents of various views. Insofar as we are engaged in a controversy, we will be arguing with others who disagree with us and are, in that sense at least, our opponents or antagonists (p.247).

And further:

The existence of controversy is a healthy thing in many contexts, and if controversy implies a degree of adversariality, then perhaps some modest adversariality is acceptable in the interests of critical thinking and lively debate (p.51).

The type of adversariality supported by Govier is what she calls minimal adversariality:

I would submit that argument is not necessarily confrontational, and that adversariality can be kept to a logical, and polite, minimum… I am concerned to show that argument may embrace the positive goals of persuasion and justification without necessitating adversariality in any negative sense (p.55).

It is clear that the type of adversariality which Govier supports is not that suggested by the argument-as-battle metaphors nor the winning-at-all costs view of argumentation, of which she is highly critical. To the extent that her argument is referring to adversariality in the sense of the confrontation of opposing views, we would tend to agree: getting the strongest arguments on various sides of an issue on the table for consideration is crucial for the comparative evaluation of arguments about controversial issues.

Adversariality for Govier seems to go beyond the confrontation of opposing views, however, to encompass a confrontation between arguers:

When we argue for a claim, we at the same time, and necessarily, argue against an envisioned opponent, one who does not accept the claim (p.243).

Her characterization of an adversarial practice as one in which “people occupy roles which set them against each other, as adversaries or opponents” (p.242) seems to confirm this, as does her reference in the quote above to those who disagree with us as opponents or antagonists.

This slide from “arguing for claims” to “arguing against people who disagree with those claims” is, we would argue, problematic (as Govier herself seems, in places, to acknowledge).^[1] Moreover, viewing the person holding the opposing position as one’s opponent introduces an unnecessary and unhelpful element of adversariality (Rooney, p.221). As Rooney states:

[W]hy are you my “opponent” if you are providing me with further or alternative considerations in regard to X . . . whether I end up agreeing with X or not-X? (p.221)

Govier herself, in fact, recognizes the difficulty inherent in this oppositional terminology:

If we accept that there is a positive value in controversy . . . then what reason is there to regard those who participate with us in controversy as opponents or antagonists with whom we are in conflict? Given all the positive aspects of controversy, there is an important sense in which such people are helping us by disagreeing with us. Thus we might wish to regard them as partners, not opponents (p.254).

Argumentation involves the confrontation of ideas with the goal of reaching the best justified position but this need not and indeed should not be viewed in terms of a conflict between individuals. Arguers may come to an argument with various initial intentions including, but not limited to, wanting to persuade their interlocutor of a different view. But so long as they are open to seriously considering alternative arguments, and willing to follow the reasoning where it leads and to alter their own position accordingly, they are involved in a joint endeavour and are not opponents (Bailin and Battersby 2009, 2016).

5. The DAM Dilemma

The critique of the DAM account is at the heart of Cohen’s argument, but in our view, it does not go far enough. The conundrum which motivates the paper is, we would argue, a consequence of this failure to follow the critique where it leads. On the one hand, Cohen argues that argumentation should not be viewed as adversarial, that interlocutors should be seen as colleagues or partners in argumentation rather than as opponents and enemies, and that arguers should help each other by pointing out missed opportunities. On the other hand, he accepts the language and assumptions of the DAM account, that is, he frames the issue in terms of proponents and opponents (and “supporting cast”). The problem is that opponents are not supposed to help each other (nor are the supporting cast supposed to help the main players). Cohen is not happy with this situation and is trying to find a way to interpret the roles in such a way as to allow for such help. Nonetheless, the language of “proponents” and “opponents” presupposes adversariality:

When we talk about opponents, about adopting and defending positions, scoring points, or, simply, winning and losing arguments, it is difficult to know how we might articulate the things we mean by these phrases without using these warring and related sports metaphors (Rooney, p.211).

We might imagine a parallel conundrum to Cohen’s with respect to a child’s cooperative game. In this type of game, players do not compete with each other but instead must work together to overcome some common obstacle. Thus, one might say that the opponents in this game should not view the other players as adversaries, which means that they should work together and help each other. But helping each other is antithetical to the role of opponents, so we have a problem.

Clearly, in this context, it makes no sense to speak in terms of opponents the way one might in a traditional competitive game. The language of opposition only makes sense in a context where winning is the goal, that is, in an adversarial context.

6. The Problem with Roles

One of the main reasons for Cohen’s acceptance of the DAM language is his commitment to the notion of roles in argumentation. The puzzle regarding missed opportunities is predicated upon arguers having defined roles in argumentation which generate particular duties and expectations. Cohen explains it thus:

What emerges, then, is a more or less natural division of labor and division of expectations for the participants in arguments:

• Proponents are expected to find good reasons for their positions, so they can be criticized when they do not.
• Opponents are not expected to point those reasons out for the proponents when they don’t present such reasons, so they cannot be criticized for remaining silent.

…

• Critics are expected to note missed opportunities, so they should be open to criticism for their silence on that score [although Cohen further notes that the expectations of impartiality and non-interference preclude them from taking on this responsibility].
• Judges, juries, and audiences do have critical roles, so they can be expected to take note of missed opportunities, but they are not expected to point them out and, in many cases, expected to remain neutral, i.e., not to interfere and to refrain from pointing them out (Cohen 2015, p.125).

This neat division into roles is problematic, however, as Cohen himself acknowledges. Roles are fluid and often overlap in practice, thus making it difficult to separate them:

We may start out in the proponent’s primary logical task of arguing for a position but then find ourselves in the subsidiary, dialectical task of defending it against objections or revising it in light of those objections, and then we might end up as an opponent arguing against a contrary position. Similarly, objecting to a pro-argument, another opposition role, presupposes argument evaluation, a critic’s activity. As van Radziewsky 2013 notes, the transitions are continual, effortless, and seamless (Cohen 2015, p.124).

This fluidity of roles is, he argues, a source of contradictory expectations on arguers; for example, critics can be expected to note missed opportunities but are also expected to be impartial and thus should not point them out.

Given the fluidity of roles, the impossibility of separating them, and the paradoxes generated by the resulting conflicting role expectations, one might wonder about the utility of the concept of roles in thinking about argumentation. The situations in which the concept is most applicable are those that are formally structured as adversarial and involve clearly defined roles, for example the courtroom or a formal debate. Even in such cases, however, the participants need to perform a number of different dialectical tasks in fulfilling their roles, e.g., a defense attorney will propose alternative arguments; a prosecuting attorney will need to defend his arguments against objections; a supreme court judge may question apparent problems or weaknesses in lawyers’ arguments. Moreover, the arguments offered by Cohen and others (including ourselves) suggest that such formally structured cases are not paradigmatic of argumentation. The concept of role would seem to have little applicability, as least with respect to identifying expectations for particular arguers in other contexts.

Nonetheless, Cohen is intent on defending the existence of distinct roles, claiming that, although they are intertwined in practice, they are conceptually distinguishable in theory and useful in analyzing arguments. The concept of role is ambiguous, however. It can refer to a particular individual performing a particular task, e.g., an opponent in an argument, whose role is to argue against a position and who has certain dialectical obligations with respect to this role. The argument to this point has, however, shown this notion of role to be problematic (with the exceptions noted above).

We might instead conceive of the various roles in argumentation in terms of aspects. There are various aspects to argumentation, various dialectical tasks involved in the practice, for example, coming up with an argument, finding objections, evaluating arguments, revising positions, generating alternative arguments, and so on. These tasks may be performed by, shared among, and even switched between various numbers or combinations of individuals. They may be performed by two individuals arguing different points of view, but they may equally be done by one person in an individual inquiry, by a group of individuals engaged in solving a problem, by presenters and commentators, and so on. It is important for successful argumentation that the various tasks be performed, but the division of labor is, we would argue, incidental. We agree that the concept of role in the sense of aspects can be useful in analyzing the tasks of argumentation, but it is generally not helpful as a way to categorize arguers, except in adversarial contexts.

We would also contest Cohen’s claim that the notion of different roles is useful because the different roles have different goals, they require different skill-sets, and they follow different rules which generate different expectations (Cohen 2015, p.124). Although it is possible to make conceptual distinctions among aspects, for example, between constructing arguments and evaluating arguments, these aspects are intertwined and inseparable in practice. For example, constructing arguments integrally involves critical evaluation. Such constructions most often arise from the recognition of problems in other arguments, they involve building a coherent chain of reasoning conforming to the critical standards that guide evaluation, and they must take into account any logical vulnerabilities in the argument. Similarly, argument criticism involves constructive aspects such as the interpretation of arguments, supplying missing premises and unstated assumptions, coming up with counter-examples, constructing a cogent argument to support the critique, and revising one’s argument in the light of objections and alternative arguments. Argument construction and evaluation are, thus, inseparable and intertwined aspects of the same process. Nor should the constructive and evaluative aspects be viewed as separate and distinct processes which take place sequentially. One does not simply generate arguments in an unconstrained, non-evaluative way and then choose among them using critical judgment. Rather, the arguments one comes up with are based on an evaluation of other arguments and involve critical judgments in their construction. Thus one evaluates in the process of constructing. Similarly, the various constructive aspects of evaluation described above mean that one constructs in the process of evaluation. Perhaps a less ambiguous way to frame Cohen’s insight that the argumentative enterprise involves going in and out of various roles is to conceive of it in terms of performing various interrelated dialectical tasks (Bailin 2003).

7. Epistemological Versus Dialectical Conceptions

At the heart of the conundrum with which Cohen is struggling is, we believe, a deeper tension between two different perspectives on argumentation, dialectical and epistemological. On the one hand, Cohen’s discussion of roles is grounded in a dialectical perspective on argumentation which focuses on argumentation as a social practice. Argumentation takes place in a variety of contexts and is structured in various ways in practice. There are formally structured contexts such as traditionally structured debates and argumentation in a courtroom, in which there is a clear division of labour with respect to the argumentative tasks and clear expectations of those who play the various roles. These are contexts in which there are formally declared winners and losers, and which are thus inherently adversarial. But there are many other ways in which argumentation is conducted in practice including an individual trying to persuade another of his or her position (in a discussion, a speech, an editorial, letter to the editor, or blog, etc.), an individual deliberating about an issue, several people inquiring together in a collaborative group, and individuals with differing views trying to come to an agreed-upon judgment.

But there is also another perspective on argumentation at play here, implicit, and at times explicit, in Cohen’s argument, that is an epistemological perspective. The focus here is on the overarching goals of argumentation. Regardless of how argumentation may be structured in different contexts, the underlying goal is seen as an epistemological one. There are variations in how this goal is cashed out by different theorists — to yield knowledge or reasonable belief (Biro and Siegel 1997, 2006), to lead to rationally justified belief (Lumer 2005), to come to a reasoned judgment (Bailin and Battersby 2009, 2016), the bettering of our belief systems (van Radziewsky 2013) — but all are versions of epistemic goals.

Cohen (2014) explicitly cites an epistemic goal for argumentation, “the bettering of our cognitive systems.” He further claims, in the paper under discussion, that even if one “loses” an argument, it can be a good argument if one has made cognitive gains. And his dissatisfaction with the problem of missed opportunities seems to stem from the belief that positive, productive critical engagement is desirable epistemologically.

In our view, the problem which troubles Cohen is rooted in a tension between these two perspectives. On the one hand, the epistemological goal for argumentation which he proposes — the bettering of our cognitive systems — necessitates that arguers are colleagues and partners in the enterprise. On the other hand, the dialectical roles of arguers, which are grounded in an adversarial paradigm, preclude such a constructive critical partnership.

8. A Non-adversarial Account

In our view, the resolution to this tension lies in accepting the epistemological perspective as fundamental and viewing argumentation in its various dialectical instantiations as instances of trying to “better our cognitive systems” (or what we have called inquiry) (Bailin and Battersby 2009, 2016).

It is true that arguers may have various intentions when they begin, from the genuine desire to resolve a puzzlement or dispute to the wish to persuade their interlocutor without any intention to co-operate. We would argue, however, that such intentions are irrelevant epistemologically. Van Radziwesky (2013) makes a distinction that is helpful in this regard:

[T]he goal someone might have while arguing is not the same as the good or goal of argumentation as a whole: One is the good that the arguer expects for himself in one instance of argumentation, the other is what we expect from argumentation as a phenomenon altogether (p.3).

The goal of argumentation is to better our cognitive systems, or in our terms, to inquire in order to reach a reasoned judgment. Even in cases of rational persuasion, there is an epistemological obligation on arguers to inquire into the issue under discussion before trying to persuade someone else of a position, as “only then have you satisfied yourself (at least) about the strength of the grounds for its correctness” (Blair 2012, p.78). In addition, the various normative constraints on arguers in conducting rational arguments (e.g., van Eemeren and Grootendorst 1983), for example a willingness to modify one’s position if the arguments warrant or to concede to the strongest argument, require that claims be put to the test of reason and that those which are to be accepted are the ones which have the strongest warrant. Thus, whatever the initial intentions of the participants, provided that they are willing to abide by the rules of rational argument, the epistemological structure of the enterprise necessitates inquiry (Bailin 1992, Bailin and Battersby 2009).

There are, however, contexts in which it is possible to win arguments, or lose them. Obvious examples are courtroom argumentation (in the Anglo-American system) and formal debates. Both these contexts are structured in an adversarial manner with “proponents” and “opponents” and there are formally recognized winners and losers (this is the prototypic case of the DAM model). In the courtroom case, however, there is a judge or jury who is charged with making a judgment, and although winning is the goal of the particular proponents and opponents, the goal of the enterprise as a whole is to come to a reasoned and just decision. In the case of formal debates, the primary goal is to win. The possibility for epistemic gains is minimal as there is a forced choice between opposing positions with no allowance for the recognition and possibly incorporation of the strongest aspects of each side.^[2]

It might be argued that winning and losing are also possible in cases of rational persuasion. In such cases, one of the arguers may win and the other lose in the sense of being successful or unsuccessful at persuading (Aberdein 2015). The first point to note, however, is that defeating someone in an argument may silence them, but it does not necessarily persuade them. But even in cases when the interlocutor or audience is persuaded (or not), these are not really cases of winning (or losing) when viewed from an epistemological perspective. Aberdein’s distinction between real and mere winners and losers is helpful in this regard:

[T]here are two sorts of loser: real losers, who lose the argument deservedly, because they are in the wrong, and mere losers, who lose the argument undeservedly, because they are in the right. Hence there must also be two sorts of winner: real winners, who win the argument deservedly, because they are in the right, and mere winners, who win the argument undeservedly, because they are in the wrong (p.2).

Even if one does not accept Aberdein’s framing of the issue in terms of arguers being right and wrong and instead talks of arguers being rightly or wrongly persuaded, his distinction is still useful. In the case of mere winners, that is, when the audience is wrongly persuaded (unjustifiably persuaded), no one is a winner epistemologically. In the case of real winners, that is, when the audience is rightly, or justifiably persuaded, everyone is a winner epistemologically in that all participants have undergone an improvement to their cognitive systems, including those who have changed their minds. Rooney makes this point with respect to cases in which one comes to accept the interlocutor’s position:

[W]e are now very close to an additional step . . . which involves a claim we also readily make in the event that, after our exchange of evidence and reasoning, I end up agreeing with your not-X. I lose the argument and you win . . . But surely I am the one who has made the epistemic gain, however small. I have replaced a probably false belief with a probably true one, and you have made no such gain (though, of course, you might claim some achievement and satisfaction in helping me to my epistemic gain) (Rooney, pp.121-122).

Johnson makes a similar point:

[O]ne reason argumentation is such a powerful practice is that if each party does its very best, then both sides will gain as a result of the process (Johnson, p.243).

The epistemological perspective also makes sense of Cohen’s observation that arguers can walk away from an argument having had their positions changed, either by winning or losing or listening and learning, and declare it a good argument on that account (p.129).

Much of the discussion regarding adversariality takes as its context two person persuasive argumentation. This is a context in which the framing in terms of winning and losing is most plausible. The collegial nature of argumentation can be seen more clearly with respect to cases of group deliberation, where the goal of the group is to come up with the best decision, and where the participants have a clear individual and as well as collective interest in making the best judgment.

9. Missed Opportunity as a Failure of Judgment

From an epistemological perspective, the argumentation project is a collective one: arriving at better justified judgments. Thus, regardless of the division of labour in particular argumentative interactions, arguers are essentially “colleagues and partners” in the project. If argumentation is viewed in this way, the problem Cohen envisages is no longer problematic as the offering of arguments both for and against a position is an integral aspect of the enterprise.

It is important, from an epistemological perspective, that the various dialectical tasks be covered but the responsibility for covering them can be seen to be a collective one. They may be covered in various ways by various participants, and in some contexts, particular individuals may take on particular tasks. In group deliberation, for example, it may be useful to have a participant play the role of devil’s advocate to discourage groupthink or deferral to the implicit group hierarchy and to ensure that alternative arguments are given due consideration. Although this may appear to be a case of adversariality, it is really the ideas which are in confrontation. And any arguer is in a position to offer such criticisms and objections as well as to propose arguments, offer supporting arguments, revise arguments, and so on. The process of inquiry can be considered faulty if any of the aspects are omitted, including the offering of additional arguments in support of one position or another. We have referred to the failure to undertake a comprehensive examination of the various competing arguments as a failure of judgment:

Since reaching a reasoned judgment involves a comparative evaluation of the various reasons and arguments on an issue, the failure to take into account any of the significant arguments on the issue constitutes a serious defect in a case (Bailin and Battersby 2016, p.245).

10. Overcoming Obstacles to Critical Inquiry

In the end, Cohen tries to resolve his conundrum by observing that one of the roles all arguers must play, regardless of whatever other roles they have, is that of argument evaluator, and that, as such, they all have the obligation to recognize missed opportunities. He further points out, however, that there are significant obstacles for arguers to overcome in order to do this, obstacles largely created by the DAM account and stemming from the different argumentative roles. For proponents, the primary obstacle is the difficulty of acknowledging, and even spotting weaknesses in one’s own arguments; for critics, the obstacle is their required stance of neutrality and non-interference; for opponents, the obstacle is the injunction against helping one’s adversary.

Although we are not in agreement with Cohen’s construal of the issue in terms of roles, we do agree that there are obstacles to be overcome in arriving at reasoned judgments (Bailin and Battersby 2016). We also agree that the DAM account is a part of the problem.^[3] But we would argue that at least part of the solution lies in a more complete rejection of the language and assumptions of adversariality. Framing the argumentative project in terms of proponents and opponents, however these roles are construed, likely reinforces the tendency for arguers to see the project as, on the one hand, making a case for positions they already hold and defending them against any proffered objections, and on the other, finding faults in arguments with which they disagree and ignoring any points in their favour. This framing works against fostering the habits of mind or virtues of argumentation.^[4] With this construal of the project, promoting positive and constructive critical engagement is an uphill battle. If, however, we frame the argumentative project as inquiry, then considering all sides of an issue in a fair-minded way is integral to the enterprise and positive, constructive critical engagement is the name of the game for all arguers. With this construal of the project, habits of mind or virtues such as open-mindedness, fair-mindedness, and a willingness to follow an argument where it leads can be seen as embedded in the practice and required by its epistemic goals (Bailin and Battersby 2015). Thus, for example, someone exhibiting the virtues of inquiry evaluates opposing views in a fair and open-minded manner because she understands that such a weighing is what is called for in order to reach a reasoned judgment (Bailin and Battersby 2009, 2015).

11. Conclusion

The critique which Cohen offers of the DAM account and its adversarial construal of argumentation is right on track. By focusing on the conundrum of missed opportunities, he elucidates one way in which such an account works against a more adequate, collegial conception of argumentation. We have argued, however, that his critique does not go far enough. The framing of the issue and of his attempt at resolution in terms of proponents and opponents makes the adversarial assumptions built into the DAM language unavoidable. Elucidating a collegial conception of argumentation within this framing is a task fraught with contradictions. What is required, instead, is a truly alternative, non-adversarial account based on the epistemological underpinnings of argumentation.

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