Rhetoric as a Technique and a Mode of Truth: Reflections on Chaim Perelman

In memoriam: Henry Johnstone, fons et origo.

In one of his many criticisms of The New Rhetoric, the philosopher Henry W. Johnstone Jr. complains about its chapter "The Dissociation of Concepts" that "one is never sure whether [Chaïm Perelman is] thinking of rhetoric primarily as a technique or primarily as a mode of truth. One wonders, too, what status [he is] claiming for the book itself" (1978, 99). ¹ Since the chapter in question largely concerns philosophical argument, the doubt is very much apropos. But the response to Johnstone's implied question--a response that Johnstone does not think available--is that the correct answer legitimately varies in a systematic way. While in philosophical contexts, and, incidentally, in scientific ones, rhetoric is invariably a mode of truth, in contexts of public address it need not be. To see how this systematic variation might be the case, I will focus, as does Johnstone, on the dissociation of concepts as a test case of the robustness of a rhetoric oriented toward truth. To do so, I must first define dissociation and then come to terms with the way in which concepts are dissociated in public address, in philosophy, and in science. In treating these examples, however, I must be wary. While they will vary systematically according to field, they are not each instances of any general "law" of dissociation. Johnstone is surely right to "doubt whether there is any general logic of dissociation; there is only the logic of each particular dissociation, generated in each case by a particular problem" (99). When I have run through my examples, I can return to Johnstone's question about the status of rhetoric and of Perelman's study of it.

Suppose that, in a campaign for the United States Senate, my opponent says that the central issue is high taxes, not the rise of medical costs, while I say that the central issue is medical costs, not high taxes. Neither of us need be engaged in the dissociation of concepts; we may simply be excluding taxes and medical care, respectively, from political matters that deserve our immediate and full attention; we may simply be breaking the link between these issues and those of high political salience. In Perelman's words, "[T]he technique of breaking up a liaison consists . . . in asserting that elements that should remain separated and independent are improperly associated" (Perelman and Olbrechts-Tyteca 1969, 411). Yet, if we think that adequate medical care for all Americans is a moral issue, that it transcends politics, we are dissociating this issue from the category of campaign issues of the ordinary sort, those that deal "merely" with expediency. In the process, we are devaluing matters of mere expediency. Dissociation is a way of taking the argumentative high ground, of putting an issue on a different plane, an act that in this case turns a political race into a moral contest. In Perelman's words, "[T]he dissociation of notions brings about a more or less profound change in the conceptual data that are used as a basis of argument. It is then no more a question of breaking the links that join independent elements, but of modifying the very structure of these elements" (412).

To illustrate this difference, I will use two parallel passages on the same topic: one from Stephen Douglas and the other from Abraham Lincoln, both from the debate between them in Alton, Illinois, on 15 October 1858. In his passage, Douglas stoutly defends states' rights:

This government was made on the great basis of the sovereignty of the States--the right of each state to regulate its own domestic institutions to suit itself, and that right was conferred with the understanding and expectation that inasmuch as each locality had separate and distinct interests, each state must have different and distinct local and domestic institutions, corresponding to the wants...