As dedicated readers of Praxis (and we know you're out there!) have surmised, argumentation is a popular pastime here at Taylor. Not in a hostile or confrontational sense, but defined more literally -- as in the presentation and elaboration of an argument or point of view.

In fact, presenting and elaborating points of view is at the very heart of what I do professionally, from writing proposals that attempt to convince the reader to select us, to reports that offer a point of view on what our findings say and mean.

What's more, being a bit (maybe more than a bit) over-analytical by nature, I've always been interested not just in analyzing research results themselves, but also in analyzing the analysis. In other words, understanding the different strategies and techniques for making an argument.

This, in turn, has led to my interest in classical rhetoric -- or, the art of persuasive discourse. Granted, you're not going to find books on rhetoric on The New York Times bestsellers list or displayed at your local Barnes & Noble. They're not even easy to find as textbooks, given that rhetoric long ago went out of style as an academic subject. (There are several good books still around, though: editions of Aristotle's Rhetoric, of course, but also broader surveys of the subject, like Classical Rhetoric for the Modern Student by Edward P. J. Corbett and Robert J. Connors and In Defence of Rhetoric by Brian Vickers.)

In spite of rhetoric's demise as an academic subject, I personally believe that an understanding of rhetoric helps me tremendously in my own argumentation. For example, simply understanding there are three fundamental modes of persuasion (logos: persuasion based on reason and logic; ethos: persuasion based on the character and reputation of the writer; and pathos: persuasion based on emotional appeal) not only helps me structure my own writing, but also helps me identify and more clearly understand the tactics others use in their attempts to persuade me.

I've also always had an interest in trying to identify logical fallacies in the arguments of others (like begging the question, ad hominem arguments, or the slippery slope), not to mention rhetorical figures of speech. For example, did you know that when you draw attention to something by saying you're not going to talk about it -- "not to mention rhetorical figures of speech" -- there's a term for that: apophasis? (Side note: I do have a life -- really!)

But there's a nagging question in all of this: does an understanding of the guts of an argument really make one better at arguing? I don't think about the parts of speech I'm using when I write, but I can put a decent sentence together. I don't understand much about how my car engine works, but I consider myself a pretty good driver. Does -- can -- an understanding of rhetoric improve the ability to present a point of view?

And I mean that as an actual -- not a rhetorical -- question. Tell me what you think.