What is it that makes an argument good? Is it just about the hard evidence—the data? Or is it about the ability to identify a logical fallacy, which proves your opponent’s position irrational and an embarrassment?
Certainly, part of argumentation is the quality of the rhetoric. The atheist journalist Christopher Hitchens, for example, routinely offered arguments that, when carefully studied, were little more than caricature and derisive ad hominem. But boy, could he deliver them well. Two decades ago, at Georgetown University, I watched Hitchens go toe to toe with renowned Protestant scholar Alistair McGrath. McGrath was erudite and well spoken, his presentation defined by careful nuance and intellectual sophistication. Hitchens, a master of the clever retort and pithy analogy, ran rhetorical circles around him. McGrath probably won, but few noticed.
Unfortunately, it’s not just enough to deliver a coherent, logical argument. You need to do so in a convincing manner—one that appeals to people’s natural sensibilities, and even employing rhetoric in a manner that is not only accurate, but appealing.
I’d like to offer a few suggestions for how to do this, based in part on a recent book by University of Dallas professor of English Gregory Roper, Mastering the Four Arguments: The Classical Art of Persuasive Writing.
“Once you know how arguments are supposed to work, you will have a template for critically examining others’ arguments,” Roper explains. “You will know a good or bad argument when you see one, and you will know why. You will be able to say, ‘That’s not a very good evaluative argument, because he never established his criteria,’ or ‘I agree with her that this is a problem, but she never showed how her solution is better, cheaper, or more feasible than other solutions.’” Let’s take a look at some of these examples in action in religious repartees.
A lot of debates get confused practically immediately because the parties are using different definitions. Protestant apologist and Presbyterian teaching elder Anthony Rogers in a recent debate tried to secure a rhetorical victory over Catholic Answers’ Trent Horn by getting him to admit that “Scripture interprets Scripture.” Except what Rogers (and other Protestants) mean by that phrase is different from Horn’s definition (and that of St. Augustine, for that matter). To Horn’s credit, he exposed that definitional divergence, which Rogers failed to address. A good rhetorician pays attention to definitions and demands that his opponent define his terms. Obviously, this avoids confusion. It also illuminates if your opponent isn’t being clear or consistent.
The skilled rhetorician also makes effective use of what Roper calls either the “single difference” argument or the “common factor argument.” The former is finding two or more equivalent situations or people or phenomena and then identifying the single difference that accounts for two different results, which can then be employed to make a causal argument (in other words, x caused y). For example, one might compare two founders of a religion—say, Jesus and Muhammad—and consider the veracity and beauty of their doctrine, and what single difference explains their divergence (Jesus’ divinity).
The “common factor,” in contrast, identifies the common factor existing across situations. For example, as many Catholic scholars and apologists observe, various Protestant traditions have a certain fissiparous quality to them. Indeed, it’s hard to think of a single Protestant tradition that hasn’t divided over the interpretation of the Bible. What might explain that tendency toward division and the creation of new, competing, often irreconcilable Protestant communities and theologies? Certainly, a common factor among all Protestant traditions is placing ultimate interpretive authority of the Bible in the conscience of the self-identifying Christian. A strong case can be made that this paradigm necessarily encourages denominational divergences.
Then there’s the need for arguments to effectively and persuasively solve problems. The first task in that process is not only describing the problem, but persuading your audience that there is a problem in the first place. To continue with the above observation regarding the fissiparous character of Protestantism, we first have to demonstrate to our Protestant brethren that this reality is undesirable. A good place to start is Jesus’ prayer that his disciples “may be one, even as we are one” (John 17:11). If Jesus is praying that his followers be united in some way analogous to the unity that Jesus enjoys with the Father, you know it’s important!
Roper explains that once you’ve gotten your interlocutor to recognize that there is a problem, you have to show that your proposal will solve the problem, that it’s feasible, and that it’s better than other solutions. You also have to address any counterarguments against your proposal. So, again, you need to show that the Catholic Church’s unity, manifested in bishops enjoying apostolic succession who are all in communion with the successor or Peter, is a better means of achieving Christian unity than trying to get individual Christians to agree to the Bible’s meaning. And then you must respond to critiques, such as “Aren’t Catholics divided, too?”
Mastering these skills will undoubtedly make you a more effective communicator in debate. But they will also more broadly improve your ability to evaluate any argument you encounter. As Roper notes, you’ll be able to parse through information quickly to identify what is relevant and what is not, you’ll recognize the most important questions and those that are secondary or peripheral, and you’ll understand issues in their proper context.
As anyone who has engaged regularly with non-Catholics in religious debates or discussions learns, it’s typically not enough simply to present data, whether about the Bible, Catholic teaching, or history. You have to prove to your interlocutor why those data matter, and do so in a way that is not only true, but thoroughly human, leveraging all the habits of a skilled rhetorician. As I’ve learned the hard way, it’s not enough simply to win the debate. You have to make them notice that you did.