Book I



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  LET us now discuss sophistic refutations, i.e. what appear to be

refutations but are really fallacies instead. We will begin in the

natural order with the first.

  That some reasonings are genuine, while others seem to be so but are

not, is evident. This happens with arguments, as also elsewhere,

through a certain likeness between the genuine and the sham. For

physically some people are in a vigorous condition, while others

merely seem to be so by blowing and rigging themselves out as the

tribesmen do their victims for sacrifice; and some people are

beautiful thanks to their beauty, while others seem to be so, by

dint of embellishing themselves. So it is, too, with inanimate things;

for of these, too, some are really silver and others gold, while

others are not and merely seem to be such to our sense; e.g. things

made of litharge and tin seem to be of silver, while those made of

yellow metal look golden. In the same way both reasoning and

refutation are sometimes genuine, sometimes not, though inexperience

may make them appear so: for inexperienced people obtain only, as it

were, a distant view of these things. For reasoning rests on certain

statements such that they involve necessarily the assertion of

something other than what has been stated, through what has been

stated: refutation is reasoning involving the contradictory of the

given conclusion. Now some of them do not really achieve this,

though they seem to do so for a number of reasons; and of these the

most prolific and usual domain is the argument that turns upon names

only. It is impossible in a discussion to bring in the actual things

discussed: we use their names as symbols instead of them; and

therefore we suppose that what follows in the names, follows in the

things as well, just as people who calculate suppose in regard to

their counters. But the two cases (names and things) are not alike.

For names are finite and so is the sum-total of formulae, while things

are infinite in number. Inevitably, then, the same formulae, and a

single name, have a number of meanings. Accordingly just as, in

counting, those who are not clever in manipulating their counters

are taken in by the experts, in the same way in arguments too those

who are not well acquainted with the force of names misreason both

in their own discussions and when they listen to others. For this

reason, then, and for others to be mentioned later, there exists

both reasoning and refutation that is apparent but not real. Now for

some people it is better worth while to seem to be wise, than to be

wise without seeming to be (for the art of the sophist is the

semblance of wisdom without the reality, and the sophist is one who

makes money from an apparent but unreal wisdom); for them, then, it is

clearly essential also to seem to accomplish the task of a wise man

rather than to accomplish it without seeming to do so. To reduce it to

a single point of contrast it is the business of one who knows a

thing, himself to avoid fallacies in the subjects which he knows and

to be able to show up the man who makes them; and of these

accomplishments the one depends on the faculty to render an answer,

and the other upon the securing of one. Those, then, who would be

sophists are bound to study the class of arguments aforesaid: for it

is worth their while: for a faculty of this kind will make a man

seem to be wise, and this is the purpose they happen to have in view.

  Clearly, then, there exists a class of arguments of this kind, and

it is at this kind of ability that those aim whom we call sophists.

Let us now go on to discuss how many kinds there are of sophistical

arguments, and how many in number are the elements of which this

faculty is composed, and how many branches there happen to be of

this inquiry, and the other factors that contribute to this art.



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  Of arguments in dialogue form there are four classes:

  Didactic, Dialectical, Examination-arguments, and Contentious

arguments. Didactic arguments are those that reason from the

principles appropriate to each subject and not from the opinions

held by the answerer (for the learner should take things on trust):

dialectical arguments are those that reason from premisses generally

accepted, to the contradictory of a given thesis:

examination-arguments are those that reason from premisses which are

accepted by the answerer and which any one who pretends to possess

knowledge of the subject is bound to know-in what manner, has been

defined in another treatise: contentious arguments are those that

reason or appear to reason to a conclusion from premisses that

appear to be generally accepted but are not so. The subject, then,

of demonstrative arguments has been discussed in the Analytics,

while that of dialectic arguments and examination-arguments has been

discussed elsewhere: let us now proceed to speak of the arguments used

in competitions and contests.

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  First we must grasp the number of aims entertained by those who

argue as competitors and rivals to the death. These are five in

number, refutation, fallacy, paradox, solecism, and fifthly to

reduce the opponent in the discussion to babbling-i.e. to constrain

him to repeat himself a number of times: or it is to produce the

appearance of each of these things without the reality. For they

choose if possible plainly to refute the other party, or as the second

best to show that he is committing some fallacy, or as a third best to

lead him into paradox, or fourthly to reduce him to solecism, i.e.

to make the answerer, in consequence of the argument, to use an

ungrammatical expression; or, as a last resort, to make him repeat

himself.



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  There are two styles of refutation: for some depend on the

language used, while some are independent of language. Those ways of

producing the false appearance of an argument which depend on language

are six in number: they are ambiguity, amphiboly, combination,

division of words, accent, form of expression. Of this we may assure

ourselves both by induction, and by syllogistic proof based on

this-and it may be on other assumptions as well-that this is the

number of ways in which we might fall to mean the same thing by the

same names or expressions. Arguments such as the following depend upon

ambiguity. 'Those learn who know: for it is those who know their

letters who learn the letters dictated to them'. For to 'learn' is

ambiguous; it signifies both 'to understand' by the use of

knowledge, and also 'to acquire knowledge'. Again, 'Evils are good:

for what needs to be is good, and evils must needs be'. For 'what

needs to be' has a double meaning: it means what is inevitable, as

often is the case with evils, too (for evil of some kind is

inevitable), while on the other hand we say of good things as well

that they 'need to be'. Moreover, 'The same man is both seated and

standing and he is both sick and in health: for it is he who stood

up who is standing, and he who is recovering who is in health: but

it is the seated man who stood up, and the sick man who was

recovering'. For 'The sick man does so and so', or 'has so and so done

to him' is not single in meaning: sometimes it means 'the man who is

sick or is seated now', sometimes 'the man who was sick formerly'.

Of course, the man who was recovering was the sick man, who really was

sick at the time: but the man who is in health is not sick at the same

time: he is 'the sick man' in the sense not that he is sick now, but

that he was sick formerly. Examples such as the following depend

upon amphiboly: 'I wish that you the enemy may capture'. Also the

thesis, 'There must be knowledge of what one knows': for it is

possible by this phrase to mean that knowledge belongs to both the

knower and the known. Also, 'There must be sight of what one sees: one

sees the pillar: ergo the pillar has sight'. Also, 'What you profess

to-be, that you profess to-be: you profess a stone to-be: ergo you

profess-to-be a stone'. Also, 'Speaking of the silent is possible':

for 'speaking of the silent' also has a double meaning: it may mean

that the speaker is silent or that the things of which he speaks are

so. There are three varieties of these ambiguities and amphibolies:

(1) When either the expression or the name has strictly more than

one meaning, e.g. aetos and the 'dog'; (2) when by custom we use

them so; (3) when words that have a simple sense taken alone have more

than one meaning in combination; e.g. 'knowing letters'. For each

word, both 'knowing' and 'letters', possibly has a single meaning: but

both together have more than one-either that the letters themselves

have knowledge or that someone else has it of them.

  Amphiboly and ambiguity, then, depend on these modes of speech. Upon

the combination of words there depend instances such as the following:

'A man can walk while sitting, and can write while not writing'. For

the meaning is not the same if one divides the words and if one

combines them in saying that 'it is possible to walk-while-sitting'

and write while not writing]. The same applies to the latter phrase,

too, if one combines the words 'to write-while-not-writing': for

then it means that he has the power to write and not to write at once;

whereas if one does not combine them, it means that when he is not

writing he has the power to write. Also, 'He now if he has learnt

his letters'. Moreover, there is the saying that 'One single thing

if you can carry a crowd you can carry too'.

  Upon division depend the propositions that 5 is 2 and 3, and odd,

and that the greater is equal: for it is that amount and more besides.

For the same phrase would not be thought always to have the same

meaning when divided and when combined, e.g. 'I made thee a slave once

a free man', and 'God-like Achilles left fifty a hundred men'.

  An argument depending upon accent it is not easy to construct in

unwritten discussion; in written discussions and in poetry it is

easier. Thus (e.g.) some people emend Homer against those who

criticize as unnatural his expression to men ou kataputhetai

ombro. For they solve the difficulty by a change of accent,

pronouncing the ou with an acuter accent. Also, in the passage

about Agamemnon's dream, they say that Zeus did not himself say 'We

grant him the fulfilment of his prayer', but that he bade the dream

grant it. Instances such as these, then, turn upon the accentuation.

  Others come about owing to the form of expression used, when what is

really different is expressed in the same form, e.g. a masculine thing

by a feminine termination, or a feminine thing by a masculine, or a

neuter by either a masculine or a feminine; or, again, when a

quality is expressed by a termination proper to quantity or vice

versa, or what is active by a passive word, or a state by an active

word, and so forth with the other divisions previously' laid down. For

it is possible to use an expression to denote what does not belong

to the class of actions at all as though it did so belong. Thus (e.g.)

'flourishing' is a word which in the form of its expression is like

'cutting' or 'building': yet the one denotes a certain quality-i.e.

a certain condition-while the other denotes a certain action. In the

same manner also in the other instances.

  Refutations, then, that depend upon language are drawn from these

common-place rules. Of fallacies, on the other hand, that are

independent of language there are seven kinds:

  (1) that which depends upon Accident:

  (2) the use of an expression absolutely or not absolutely but with

some qualification of respect or place, or time, or relation:

  (3) that which depends upon ignorance of what 'refutation' is:

  (4) that which depends upon the consequent:

  (5) that which depends upon assuming the original conclusion:

  (6) stating as cause what is not the cause:

  (7) the making of more than one question into one.



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  Fallacies, then, that depend on Accident occur whenever any

attribute is claimed to belong in like manner to a thing and to its

accident. For since the same thing has many accidents there is no

necessity that all the same attributes should belong to all of a

thing's predicates and to their subject as well. Thus (e.g.), 'If

Coriscus be different from "man", he is different from himself: for he

is a man': or 'If he be different from Socrates, and Socrates be a

man, then', they say, 'he has admitted that Coriscus is different from

a man, because it so happens (accidit) that the person from whom he

said that he (Coriscus) is different is a man'.

  Those that depend on whether an expression is used absolutely or

in a certain respect and not strictly, occur whenever an expression

used in a particular sense is taken as though it were used absolutely,

e.g. in the argument 'If what is not is the object of an opinion, then

what is not is': for it is not the same thing 'to be x' and 'to be'

absolutely. Or again, 'What is, is not, if it is not a particular kind

of being, e.g. if it is not a man.' For it is not the same thing

'not to be x' and 'not to be' at all: it looks as if it were,

because of the closeness of the expression, i.e. because 'to be x'

is but little different from 'to be', and 'not to be x' from 'not to

be'. Likewise also with any argument that turns upon the point whether

an expression is used in a certain respect or used absolutely. Thus

e.g. 'Suppose an Indian to be black all over, but white in respect

of his teeth; then he is both white and not white.' Or if both

characters belong in a particular respect, then, they say, 'contrary

attributes belong at the same time'. This kind of thing is in some

cases easily seen by any one, e.g. suppose a man were to secure the

statement that the Ethiopian is black, and were then to ask whether he

is white in respect of his teeth; and then, if he be white in that

respect, were to suppose at the conclusion of his questions that

therefore he had proved dialectically that he was both white and not

white. But in some cases it often passes undetected, viz. in all cases

where, whenever a statement is made of something in a certain respect,

it would be generally thought that the absolute statement follows as

well; and also in all cases where it is not easy to see which of the

attributes ought to be rendered strictly. A situation of this kind

arises, where both the opposite attributes belong alike: for then

there is general support for the view that one must agree absolutely

to the assertion of both, or of neither: e.g. if a thing is half white

and half black, is it white or black?

  Other fallacies occur because the terms 'proof' or 'refutation' have

not been defined, and because something is left out in their

definition. For to refute is to contradict one and the same

attribute-not merely the name, but the reality-and a name that is

not merely synonymous but the same name-and to confute it from the

propositions granted, necessarily, without including in the

reckoning the original point to be proved, in the same respect and

relation and manner and time in which it was asserted. A 'false

assertion' about anything has to be defined in the same way. Some

people, however, omit some one of the said conditions and give a

merely apparent refutation, showing (e.g.) that the same thing is both

double and not double: for two is double of one, but not double of

three. Or, it may be, they show that it is both double and not

double of the same thing, but not that it is so in the same respect:

for it is double in length but not double in breadth. Or, it may be,

they show it to be both double and not double of the same thing and in

the same respect and manner, but not that it is so at the same time:

and therefore their refutation is merely apparent. One might, with

some violence, bring this fallacy into the group of fallacies

dependent on language as well.

  Those that depend on the assumption of the original point to be

proved, occur in the same way, and in as many ways, as it is

possible to beg the original point; they appear to refute because

men lack the power to keep their eyes at once upon what is the same

and what is different.

  The refutation which depends upon the consequent arises because

people suppose that the relation of consequence is convertible. For

whenever, suppose A is, B necessarily is, they then suppose also

that if B is, A necessarily is. This is also the source of the

deceptions that attend opinions based on sense-perception. For

people often suppose bile to be honey because honey is attended by a

yellow colour: also, since after rain the ground is wet in

consequence, we suppose that if the ground is wet, it has been

raining; whereas that does not necessarily follow. In rhetoric

proofs from signs are based on consequences. For when rhetoricians

wish to show that a man is an adulterer, they take hold of some

consequence of an adulterous life, viz. that the man is smartly

dressed, or that he is observed to wander about at night. There are,

however, many people of whom these things are true, while the charge

in question is untrue. It happens like this also in real reasoning;

e.g. Melissus' argument, that the universe is eternal, assumes that

the universe has not come to be (for from what is not nothing could

possibly come to be) and that what has come to be has done so from a

first beginning. If, therefore, the universe has not come to be, it

has no first beginning, and is therefore eternal. But this does not

necessarily follow: for even if what has come to be always has a first

beginning, it does not also follow that what has a first beginning has

come to be; any more than it follows that if a man in a fever be

hot, a man who is hot must be in a fever.

  The refutation which depends upon treating as cause what is not a

cause, occurs whenever what is not a cause is inserted in the

argument, as though the refutation depended upon it. This kind of

thing happens in arguments that reason ad impossible: for in these

we are bound to demolish one of the premisses. If, then, the false

cause be reckoned in among the questions that are necessary to

establish the resulting impossibility, it will often be thought that

the refutation depends upon it, e.g. in the proof that the 'soul'

and 'life' are not the same: for if coming-to-be be contrary to

perishing, then a particular form of perishing will have a

particular form of coming-to-be as its contrary: now death is a

particular form of perishing and is contrary to life: life, therefore,

is a coming to-be, and to live is to come-to-be. But this is

impossible: accordingly, the 'soul' and 'life' are not the same. Now

this is not proved: for the impossibility results all the same, even

if one does not say that life is the same as the soul, but merely says

that life is contrary to death, which is a form of perishing, and that

perishing has 'coming-to-be' as its contrary. Arguments of that

kind, then, though not inconclusive absolutely, are inconclusive in

relation to the proposed conclusion. Also even the questioners

themselves often fail quite as much to see a point of that kind.

  Such, then, are the arguments that depend upon the consequent and

upon false cause. Those that depend upon the making of two questions

into one occur whenever the plurality is undetected and a single

answer is returned as if to a single question. Now, in some cases,

it is easy to see that there is more than one, and that an answer is

not to be given, e.g. 'Does the earth consist of sea, or the sky?' But

in some cases it is less easy, and then people treat the question as

one, and either confess their defeat by failing to answer the

question, or are exposed to an apparent refutation. Thus 'Is A and

is B a man?' 'Yes.' 'Then if any one hits A and B, he will strike a

man' (singular),'not men' (plural). Or again, where part is good and

part bad, 'is the whole good or bad?' For whichever he says, it is

possible that he might be thought to expose himself to an apparent

refutation or to make an apparently false statement: for to say that

something is good which is not good, or not good which is good, is

to make a false statement. Sometimes, however, additional premisses

may actually give rise to a genuine refutation; e.g. suppose a man

were to grant that the descriptions 'white' and 'naked' and 'blind'

apply to one thing and to a number of things in a like sense. For if

'blind' describes a thing that cannot see though nature designed it to

see, it will also describe things that cannot see though nature

designed them to do so. Whenever, then, one thing can see while

another cannot, they will either both be able to see or else both be

blind; which is impossible.



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  The right way, then, is either to divide apparent proofs and

refutations as above, or else to refer them all to ignorance of what

'refutation' is, and make that our starting-point: for it is

possible to analyse all the aforesaid modes of fallacy into breaches

of the definition of a refutation. In the first place, we may see if

they are inconclusive: for the conclusion ought to result from the

premisses laid down, so as to compel us necessarily to state it and

not merely to seem to compel us. Next we should also take the

definition bit by bit, and try the fallacy thereby. For of the

fallacies that consist in language, some depend upon a double meaning,

e.g. ambiguity of words and of phrases, and the fallacy of like verbal

forms (for we habitually speak of everything as though it were a

particular substance)-while fallacies of combination and division

and accent arise because the phrase in question or the term as altered

is not the same as was intended. Even this, however, should be the

same, just as the thing signified should be as well, if a refutation

or proof is to be effected; e.g. if the point concerns a doublet, then

you should draw the conclusion of a 'doublet', not of a 'cloak'. For

the former conclusion also would be true, but it has not been

proved; we need a further question to show that 'doublet' means the

same thing, in order to satisfy any one who asks why you think your

point proved.

  Fallacies that depend on Accident are clear cases of ignoratio

elenchi when once 'proof' has been defined. For the same definition

ought to hold good of 'refutation' too, except that a mention of

'the contradictory' is here added: for a refutation is a proof of

the contradictory. If, then, there is no proof as regards an

accident of anything, there is no refutation. For supposing, when A

and B are, C must necessarily be, and C is white, there is no

necessity for it to be white on account of the syllogism. So, if the

triangle has its angles equal to two right-angles, and it happens to

be a figure, or the simplest element or starting point, it is not

because it is a figure or a starting point or simplest element that it

has this character. For the demonstration proves the point about it

not qua figure or qua simplest element, but qua triangle. Likewise

also in other cases. If, then, refutation is a proof, an argument

which argued per accidens could not be a refutation. It is, however,

just in this that the experts and men of science generally suffer

refutation at the hand of the unscientific: for the latter meet the

scientists with reasonings constituted per accidens; and the

scientists for lack of the power to draw distinctions either say 'Yes'

to their questions, or else people suppose them to have said 'Yes',

although they have not.

  Those that depend upon whether something is said in a certain

respect only or said absolutely, are clear cases of ignoratio

elenchi because the affirmation and the denial are not concerned

with the same point. For of 'white in a certain respect' the

negation is 'not white in a certain respect', while of 'white

absolutely' it is 'not white, absolutely'. If, then, a man treats

the admission that a thing is 'white in a certain respect' as though

it were said to be white absolutely, he does not effect a

refutation, but merely appears to do so owing to ignorance of what

refutation is.

  The clearest cases of all, however, are those that were previously

described' as depending upon the definition of a 'refutation': and

this is also why they were called by that name. For the appearance

of a refutation is produced because of the omission in the definition,

and if we divide fallacies in the above manner, we ought to set

'Defective definition' as a common mark upon them all.

  Those that depend upon the assumption of the original point and upon

stating as the cause what is not the cause, are clearly shown to be

cases of ignoratio elenchi through the definition thereof. For the

conclusion ought to come about 'because these things are so', and this

does not happen where the premisses are not causes of it: and again it

should come about without taking into account the original point,

and this is not the case with those arguments which depend upon

begging the original point.

  Those that depend upon the assumption of the original point and upon

stating as the cause what is not the cause, are clearly shown to be

cases of ignoratio elenchi through the definition thereof. For the

conclusion ought to come about 'because these things are so', and this

does not happen where the premisses are not causes of it: and again it

should come about without taking into account the original point,

and this is not the case with those arguments which depend upon

begging the original point.

    Those that depend upon the consequent are a branch of Accident:

for the consequent is an accident, only it differs from the accident

in this, that you may secure an admission of the accident in the

case of one thing only (e.g. the identity of a yellow thing and

honey and of a white thing and swan), whereas the consequent always

involves more than one thing: for we claim that things that are the

same as one and the same thing are also the same as one another, and

this is the ground of a refutation dependent on the consequent. It is,

however, not always true, e.g. suppose that and B are the same as C

per accidens; for both 'snow' and the 'swan' are the same as something

white'. Or again, as in Melissus' argument, a man assumes that to

'have been generated' and to 'have a beginning' are the same thing, or

to 'become equal' and to 'assume the same magnitude'. For because what

has been generated has a beginning, he claims also that what has a

beginning has been generated, and argues as though both what has

been generated and what is finite were the same because each has a

beginning. Likewise also in the case of things that are made equal

he assumes that if things that assume one and the same magnitude

become equal, then also things that become equal assume one magnitude:

i.e. he assumes the consequent. Inasmuch, then, as a refutation

depending on accident consists in ignorance of what a refutation is,

clearly so also does a refutation depending on the consequent. We

shall have further to examine this in another way as well.

  Those fallacies that depend upon the making of several questions

into one consist in our failure to dissect the definition of

'proposition'. For a proposition is a single statement about a

single thing. For the same definition applies to 'one single thing

only' and to the 'thing', simply, e.g. to 'man' and to 'one single man

only' and likewise also in other cases. If, then, a 'single

proposition' be one which claims a single thing of a single thing, a

'proposition', simply, will also be the putting of a question of

that kind. Now since a proof starts from propositions and refutation

is a proof, refutation, too, will start from propositions. If, then, a

proposition is a single statement about a single thing, it is

obvious that this fallacy too consists in ignorance of what a

refutation is: for in it what is not a proposition appears to be

one. If, then, the answerer has returned an answer as though to a

single question, there will be a refutation; while if he has

returned one not really but apparently, there will be an apparent

refutation of his thesis. All the types of fallacy, then, fall under

ignorance of what a refutation is, some of them because the

contradiction, which is the distinctive mark of a refutation, is

merely apparent, and the rest failing to conform to the definition

of a proof.



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  The deception comes about in the case of arguments that depend on

ambiguity of words and of phrases because we are unable to divide

the ambiguous term (for some terms it is not easy to divide, e.g.

'unity', 'being', and 'sameness'), while in those that depend on

combination and division, it is because we suppose that it makes no

difference whether the phrase be combined or divided, as is indeed the

case with most phrases. Likewise also with those that depend on

accent: for the lowering or raising of the voice upon a phrase is

thought not to alter its meaning-with any phrase, or not with many.

With those that depend on the of expression it is because of the

likeness of expression. For it is hard to distinguish what kind of

things are signified by the same and what by different kinds of

expression: for a man who can do this is practically next door to

the understanding of the truth. A special reason why a man is liable

to be hurried into assent to the fallacy is that we suppose every

predicate of everything to be an individual thing, and we understand

it as being one with the thing: and we therefore treat it as a

substance: for it is to that which is one with a thing or substance,

as also to substance itself, that 'individually' and 'being' are

deemed to belong in the fullest sense. For this reason, too, this type

of fallacy is to be ranked among those that depend on language; in the

first place, because the deception is effected the more readily when

we are inquiring into a problem in company with others than when we do

so by ourselves (for an inquiry with another person is carried on by

means of speech, whereas an inquiry by oneself is carried on quite

as much by means of the object itself); secondly a man is liable to be

deceived, even when inquiring by himself, when he takes speech as

the basis of his inquiry: moreover the deception arises out of the

likeness (of two different things), and the likeness arises out of the

language. With those fallacies that depend upon Accident, deception

comes about because we cannot distinguish the sameness and otherness

of terms, i.e. their unity and multiplicity, or what kinds of

predicate have all the same accidents as their subject. Likewise

also with those that depend on the Consequent: for the consequent is a

branch of Accident. Moreover, in many cases appearances point to

this-and the claim is made that if is inseparable from B, so also is B

from With those that depend upon an imperfection in the definition

of a refutation, and with those that depend upon the difference

between a qualified and an absolute statement, the deception

consists in the smallness of the difference involved; for we treat the

limitation to the particular thing or respect or manner or time as

adding nothing to the meaning, and so grant the statement universally.

Likewise also in the case of those that assume the original point, and

those of false cause, and all that treat a number of questions as one:

for in all of them the deception lies in the smallness of the

difference: for our failure to be quite exact in our definition of

'premiss' and of 'proof' is due to the aforesaid reason.



                                 8



  Since we know on how many points apparent syllogisms depend, we know

also on how many sophistical syllogisms and refutations may depend. By

a sophistical refutation and syllogism I mean not only a syllogism

or refutation which appears to be valid but is not, but also one

which, though it is valid, only appears to be appropriate to the thing

in question. These are those which fail to refute and prove people

to be ignorant according to the nature of the thing in question, which

was the function of the art of examination. Now the art of examining

is a branch of dialectic: and this may prove a false conclusion

because of the ignorance of the answerer. Sophistic refutations on the

other hand, even though they prove the contradictory of his thesis, do

not make clear whether he is ignorant: for sophists entangle the

scientist as well with these arguments.

  That we know them by the same line of inquiry is clear: for the same

considerations which make it appear to an audience that the points

required for the proof were asked in the questions and that the

conclusion was proved, would make the answerer think so as well, so

that false proof will occur through all or some of these means: for

what a man has not been asked but thinks he has granted, he would also

grant if he were asked. Of course, in some cases the moment we add the

missing question, we also show up its falsity, e.g. in fallacies

that depend on language and on solecism. If then, fallacious proofs of

the contradictory of a thesis depend on their appearing to refute,

it is clear that the considerations on which both proofs of false

conclusions and an apparent refutation depend must be the same in

number. Now an apparent refutation depends upon the elements

involved in a genuine one: for the failure of one or other of these

must make the refutation merely apparent, e.g. that which depends on

the failure of the conclusion to follow from the argument (the

argument ad impossible) and that which treats two questions as one and

so depends upon a flaw in the premiss, and that which depends on the

substitution of an accident for an essential attribute, and-a branch

of the last-that which depends upon the consequent: more over, the

conclusion may follow not in fact but only verbally: then, instead

of proving the contradictory universally and in the same respect and

relation and manner, the fallacy may be dependent on some limit of

extent or on one or other of these qualifications: moreover, there

is the assumption of the original point to be proved, in violation

of the clause 'without reckoning in the original point'. Thus we

should have the number of considerations on which the fallacious

proofs depend: for they could not depend on more, but all will

depend on the points aforesaid.

  A sophistical refutation is a refutation not absolutely but

relatively to some one: and so is a proof, in the same way. For unless

that which depends upon ambiguity assumes that the ambiguous term

has a single meaning, and that which depends on like verbal forms

assumes that substance is the only category, and the rest in the

same way, there will be neither refutations nor proofs, either

absolutely or relatively to the answerer: whereas if they do assume

these things, they will stand, relatively to the answerer; but

absolutely they will not stand: for they have not secured a

statement that does have a single meaning, but only one that appears

to have, and that only from this particular man.



                                 9



  The number of considerations on which depend the refutations of

those who are refuted, we ought not to try to grasp without a

knowledge of everything that is. This, however, is not the province of

any special study: for possibly the sciences are infinite in number,

so that obviously demonstrations may be infinite too. Now

refutations may be true as well as false: for whenever it is

possible to demonstrate something, it is also possible to refute the

man who maintains the contradictory of the truth; e.g. if a man has

stated that the diagonal is commensurate with the side of the

square, one might refute him by demonstrating that it is

incommensurate. Accordingly, to exhaust all possible refutations we

shall have to have scientific knowledge of everything: for some

refutations depend upon the principles that rule in geometry and the

conclusions that follow from these, others upon those that rule in

medicine, and others upon those of the other sciences. For the

matter of that, the false refutations likewise belong to the number of

the infinite: for according to every art there is false proof, e.g.

according to geometry there is false geometrical proof, and

according to medicine there is false medical proof. By 'according to

the art', I mean 'according to the principles of it'. Clearly, then,

it is not of all refutations, but only of those that depend upon

dialectic that we need to grasp the common-place rules: for these

stand in a common relation to every art and faculty. And as regards

the refutation that is according to one or other of the particular

sciences it is the task of that particular scientist to examine

whether it is merely apparent without being real, and, if it be

real, what is the reason for it: whereas it is the business of

dialecticians so to examine the refutation that proceeds from the

common first principles that fall under no particular special study.

For if we grasp the startingpoints of the accepted proofs on any

subject whatever we grasp those of the refutations current on that

subject. For a refutation is the proof of the contradictory of a given

thesis, so that either one or two proofs of the contradictory

constitute a refutation. We grasp, then, the number of

considerations on which all such depend: if, however, we grasp this,

we also grasp their solutions as well; for the objections to these are

the solutions of them. We also grasp the number of considerations on

which those refutations depend, that are merely apparent-apparent, I

mean, not to everybody, but to people of a certain stamp; for it is an

indefinite task if one is to inquire how many are the considerations

that make them apparent to the man in the street. Accordingly it is

clear that the dialectician's business is to be able to grasp on how

many considerations depends the formation, through the common first

principles, of a refutation that is either real or apparent, i.e.

either dialectical or apparently dialectical, or suitable for an

examination.



                                10



  It is no true distinction between arguments which some people draw

when they say that some arguments are directed against the expression,

and others against the thought expressed: for it is absurd to

suppose that some arguments are directed against the expression and

others against the thought, and that they are not the same. For what

is failure to direct an argument against the thought except what

occurs whenever a man does not in using the expression think it to

be used in his question in the same sense in which the person

questioned granted it? And this is the same thing as to direct the

argument against the expression. On the other hand, it is directed

against the thought whenever a man uses the expression in the same

sense which the answerer had in mind when he granted it. If now any

(i.e. both the questioner and the person questioned), in dealing

with an expression with more than one meaning, were to suppose it to

have one meaning-as e.g. it may be that 'Being' and 'One' have many

meanings, and yet both the answerer answers and the questioner puts

his question supposing it to be one, and the argument is to the effect

that 'All things are one'-will this discussion be directed any more

against the expression than against the thought of the person

questioned? If, on the other hand, one of them supposes the expression

to have many meanings, it is clear that such a discussion will not

be directed against the thought. Such being the meanings of the

phrases in question, they clearly cannot describe two separate classes

of argument. For, in the first place, it is possible for any such

argument as bears more than one meaning to be directed against the

expression and against the thought, and next it is possible for any

argument whatsoever; for the fact of being directed against the

thought consists not in the nature of the argument, but in the special

attitude of the answerer towards the points he concedes. Next, all

of them may be directed to the expression. For 'to be directed against

the expression' means in this doctrine 'not to be directed against the

thought'. For if not all are directed against either expression or

thought, there will be certain other arguments directed neither

against the expression nor against the thought, whereas they say

that all must be one or the other, and divide them all as directed

either against the expression or against the thought, while others

(they say) there are none. But in point of fact those that depend on

mere expression are only a branch of those syllogisms that depend on a

multiplicity of meanings. For the absurd statement has actually been

made that the description 'dependent on mere expression' describes all

the arguments that depend on language: whereas some of these are

fallacies not because the answerer adopts a particular attitude

towards them, but because the argument itself involves the asking of a

question such as bears more than one meaning.

  It is, too, altogether absurd to discuss Refutation without first

discussing Proof: for a refutation is a proof, so that one ought to

discuss proof as well before describing false refutation: for a

refutation of that kind is a merely apparent proof of the

contradictory of a thesis. Accordingly, the reason of the falsity will

be either in the proof or in the contradiction (for mention of the

'contradiction' must be added), while sometimes it is in both, if

the refutation be merely apparent. In the argument that speaking of

the silent is possible it lies in the contradiction, not in the proof;

in the argument that one can give what one does not possess, it lies

in both; in the proof that Homer's poem is a figure through its

being a cycle it lies in the proof. An argument that does not fail

in either respect is a true proof.

  But, to return to the point whence our argument digressed, are

mathematical reasonings directed against the thought, or not? And if

any one thinks 'triangle' to be a word with many meanings, and granted

it in some different sense from the figure which was proved to contain

two right angles, has the questioner here directed his argument

against the thought of the former or not?

  Moreover, if the expression bears many senses, while the answerer

does not understand or suppose it to have them, surely the

questioner here has directed his argument against his thought! Or

how else ought he to put his question except by suggesting a

distinction-suppose one's question to be speaking of the silent

possible or not?'-as follows, 'Is the answer "No" in one sense, but

"Yes" in another?' If, then, any one were to answer that it was not

possible in any sense and the other were to argue that it was, has not

his argument been directed against the thought of the answerer? Yet

his argument is supposed to be one of those that depend on the

expression. There is not, then, any definite kind of arguments that is

directed against the thought. Some arguments are, indeed, directed

against the expression: but these are not all even apparent

refutations, let alone all refutations. For there are also apparent

refutations which do not depend upon language, e.g. those that

depend upon accident, and others.

  If, however, any one claims that one should actually draw the

distinction, and say, 'By "speaking of the silent" I mean, in one

sense this and in the other sense that', surely to claim this is in

the first place absurd (for sometimes the questioner does not see

the ambiguity of his question, and he cannot possibly draw a

distinction which he does not think to be there): in the second place,

what else but this will didactic argument be? For it will make

manifest the state of the case to one who has never considered, and

does not know or suppose that there is any other meaning but one.

For what is there to prevent the same thing also happening to us in

cases where there is no double meaning? 'Are the units in four equal

to the twos? Observe that the twos are contained in four in one

sense in this way, in another sense in that'. Also, 'Is the

knowledge of contraries one or not? Observe that some contraries are

known, while others are unknown'. Thus the man who makes this claim

seems to be unaware of the difference between didactic and dialectical

argument, and of the fact that while he who argues didactically should

not ask questions but make things clear himself, the other should

merely ask questions.



                                11



  Moreover, to claim a 'Yes' or 'No' answer is the business not of a

man who is showing something, but of one who is holding an

examination. For the art of examining is a branch of dialectic and has

in view not the man who has knowledge, but the ignorant pretender. He,

then, is a dialectician who regards the common principles with their

application to the particular matter in hand, while he who only

appears to do this is a sophist. Now for contentious and sophistical

reasoning: (1) one such is a merely apparent reasoning, on subjects on

which dialectical reasoning is the proper method of examination,

even though its conclusion be true: for it misleads us in regard to

the cause: also (2) there are those misreasonings which do not conform

to the line of inquiry proper to the particular subject, but are

generally thought to conform to the art in question. For false

diagrams of geometrical figures are not contentious (for the resulting

fallacies conform to the subject of the art)-any more than is any

false diagram that may be offered in proof of a truth-e.g.

Hippocrates' figure or the squaring of the circle by means of the

lunules. But Bryson's method of squaring the circle, even if the

circle is thereby squared, is still sophistical because it does not

conform to the subject in hand. So, then, any merely apparent

reasoning about these things is a contentious argument, and any

reasoning that merely appears to conform to the subject in hand,

even though it be genuine reasoning, is a contentious argument: for it

is merely apparent in its conformity to the subject-matter, so that it

is deceptive and plays foul. For just as a foul in a race is a

definite type of fault, and is a kind of foul fighting, so the art

of contentious reasoning is foul fighting in disputation: for in the

former case those who are resolved to win at all costs snatch at

everything, and so in the latter case do contentious reasoners. Those,

then, who do this in order to win the mere victory are generally

considered to be contentious and quarrelsome persons, while those

who do it to win a reputation with a view to making money are

sophistical. For the art of sophistry is, as we said,' a kind of art

of money-making from a merely apparent wisdom, and this is why they

aim at a merely apparent demonstration: and quarrelsome persons and

sophists both employ the same arguments, but not with the same

motives: and the same argument will be sophistical and contentious,

but not in the same respect; rather, it will be contentious in so

far as its aim is an apparent victory, while in so far as its aim is

an apparent wisdom, it will be sophistical: for the art of sophistry

is a certain appearance of wisdom without the reality. The contentious

argument stands in somewhat the same relation to the dialectical as

the drawer of false diagrams to the geometrician; for it beguiles by

misreasoning from the same principles as dialectic uses, just as the

drawer of a false diagram beguiles the geometrician. But whereas the

latter is not a contentious reasoner, because he bases his false

diagram on the principles and conclusions that fall under the art of

geometry, the argument which is subordinate to the principles of

dialectic will yet clearly be contentious as regards other subjects.

Thus, e.g. though the squaring of the circle by means of the lunules

is not contentious, Bryson's solution is contentious: and the former

argument cannot be adapted to any subject except geometry, because

it proceeds from principles that are peculiar to geometry, whereas the

latter can be adapted as an argument against all the number of

people who do not know what is or is not possible in each particular

context: for it will apply to them all. Or there is the method whereby

Antiphon squared the circle. Or again, an argument which denied that

it was better to take a walk after dinner, because of Zeno's argument,

would not be a proper argument for a doctor, because Zeno's argument

is of general application. If, then, the relation of the contentious

argument to the dialectical were exactly like that of the drawer of

false diagrams to the geometrician, a contentious argument upon the

aforesaid subjects could not have existed. But, as it is, the

dialectical argument is not concerned with any definite kind of being,

nor does it show anything, nor is it even an argument such as we

find in the general philosophy of being. For all beings are not

contained in any one kind, nor, if they were, could they possibly fall

under the same principles. Accordingly, no art that is a method of

showing the nature of anything proceeds by asking questions: for it

does not permit a man to grant whichever he likes of the two

alternatives in the question: for they will not both of them yield a

proof. Dialectic, on the other hand, does proceed by questioning,

whereas if it were concerned to show things, it would have refrained

from putting questions, even if not about everything, at least about

the first principles and the special principles that apply to the

particular subject in hand. For suppose the answerer not to grant

these, it would then no longer have had any grounds from which to

argue any longer against the objection. Dialectic is at the same

time a mode of examination as well. For neither is the art of

examination an accomplishment of the same kind as geometry, but one

which a man may possess, even though he has not knowledge. For it is

possible even for one without knowledge to hold an examination of

one who is without knowledge, if also the latter grants him points

taken not from thing that he knows or from the special principles of

the subject under discussion but from all that range of consequences

attaching to the subject which a man may indeed know without knowing

the theory of the subject, but which if he do not know, he is bound to

be ignorant of the theory. So then clearly the art of examining does

not consist in knowledge of any definite subject. For this reason,

too, it deals with everything: for every 'theory' of anything

employs also certain common principles. Hence everybody, including

even amateurs, makes use in a way of dialectic and the practice of

examining: for all undertake to some extent a rough trial of those who

profess to know things. What serves them here is the general

principles: for they know these of themselves just as well as the

scientist, even if in what they say they seem to the latter to go

wildly astray from them. All, then, are engaged in refutation; for

they take a hand as amateurs in the same task with which dialectic

is concerned professionally; and he is a dialectician who examines

by the help of a theory of reasoning. Now there are many identical

principles which are true of everything, though they are not such as

to constitute a particular nature, i.e. a particular kind of being,

but are like negative terms, while other principles are not of this

kind but are special to particular subjects; accordingly it is

possible from these general principles to hold an examination on

everything, and that there should be a definite art of so doing,

and, moreover, an art which is not of the same kind as those which

demonstrate. This is why the contentious reasoner does not stand in

the same condition in all respects as the drawer of a false diagram:

for the contentious reasoner will not be given to misreasoning from

any definite class of principles, but will deal with every class.

  These, then, are the types of sophistical refutations: and that it

belongs to the dialectician to study these, and to be able to effect

them, is not difficult to see: for the investigation of premisses

comprises the whole of this study.



                                12



  So much, then, for apparent refutations. As for showing that the

answerer is committing some fallacy, and drawing his argument into

paradox-for this was the second item of the sophist's programme-in the

first place, then, this is best brought about by a certain manner of

questioning and through the question. For to put the question

without framing it with reference to any definite subject is a good

bait for these purposes: for people are more inclined to make mistakes

when they talk at large, and they talk at large when they have no

definite subject before them. Also the putting of several questions,

even though the position against which one is arguing be quite

definite, and the claim that he shall say only what he thinks,

create abundant opportunity for drawing him into paradox or fallacy,

and also, whether to any of these questions he replies 'Yes' or

replies 'No', of leading him on to statements against which one is

well off for a line of attack. Nowadays, however, men are less able to

play foul by these means than they were formerly: for people rejoin

with the question, 'What has that to do with the original subject?' It

is, too, an elementary rule for eliciting some fallacy or paradox that

one should never put a controversial question straight away, but say

that one puts it from the wish for information: for the process of

inquiry thus invited gives room for an attack.

  A rule specially appropriate for showing up a fallacy is the

sophistic rule, that one should draw the answerer on to the kind of

statements against which one is well supplied with arguments: this can

be done both properly and improperly, as was said before.' Again, to

draw a paradoxical statement, look and see to what school of

philosophers the person arguing with you belongs, and then question

him as to some point wherein their doctrine is paradoxical to most

people: for with every school there is some point of that kind. It

is an elementary rule in these matters to have a collection of the

special 'theses' of the various schools among your propositions. The

solution recommended as appropriate here, too, is to point out that

the paradox does not come about because of the argument: whereas

this is what his opponent always really wants.

  Moreover, argue from men's wishes and their professed opinions.

For people do not wish the same things as they say they wish: they say

what will look best, whereas they wish what appears to be to their

interest: e.g. they say that a man ought to die nobly rather than to

live in pleasure, and to live in honest poverty rather than in

dishonourable riches; but they wish the opposite. Accordingly, a man

who speaks according to his wishes must be led into stating the

professed opinions of people, while he who speaks according to these

must be led into admitting those that people keep hidden away: for

in either case they are bound to introduce a paradox; for they will

speak contrary either to men's professed or to their hidden opinions.

  The widest range of common-place argument for leading men into

paradoxical statement is that which depends on the standards of Nature

and of the Law: it is so that both Callicles is drawn as arguing in

the Gorgias, and that all the men of old supposed the result to come

about: for nature (they said) and law are opposites, and justice is

a fine thing by a legal standard, but not by that of nature.

Accordingly, they said, the man whose statement agrees with the

standard of nature you should meet by the standard of the law, but the

man who agrees with the law by leading him to the facts of nature: for

in both ways paradoxical statements may be committed. In their view

the standard of nature was the truth, while that of the law was the

opinion held by the majority. So that it is clear that they, too, used

to try either to refute the answerer or to make him make paradoxical

statements, just as the men of to-day do as well.

  Some questions are such that in both forms the answer is

paradoxical; e.g. 'Ought one to obey the wise or one's father?' and

'Ought one to do what is expedient or what is just?' and 'Is it

preferable to suffer injustice or to do an injury?' You should lead

people, then, into views opposite to the majority and to the

philosophers; if any one speaks as do the expert reasoners, lead him

into opposition to the majority, while if he speaks as do the

majority, then into opposition to the reasoners. For some say that

of necessity the happy man is just, whereas it is paradoxical to the

many that a king should be happy. To lead a man into paradoxes of this

sort is the same as to lead him into the opposition of the standards

of nature and law: for the law represents the opinion of the majority,

whereas philosophers speak according to the standard of nature and the

truth.



                                13



  Paradoxes, then, you should seek to elicit by means of these

common-place rules. Now as for making any one babble, we have

already said what we mean by 'to babble'. This is the object in view

in all arguments of the following kind: If it is all the same to state

a term and to state its definition, the 'double' and 'double of

half' are the same: if then 'double' be the 'double of half', it

will be the 'double of half of half'. And if, instead of 'double',

'double of half' be again put, then the same expression will be

repeated three times, 'double of half of half of half'. Also 'desire

is of the pleasant, isn't it?' desire is conation for the pleasant:

accordingly, 'desire' is 'conation for the pleasant for the pleasant'.

  All arguments of this kind occur in dealing (1) with any relative

terms which not only have relative genera, but are also themselves

relative, and are rendered in relation to one and the same thing, as

e.g. conation is conation for something, and desire is desire of

something, and double is double of something, i.e. double of half:

also in dealing (2) with any terms which, though they be not

relative terms at all, yet have their substance, viz. the things of

which they are the states or affections or what not, indicated as well

in their definition, they being predicated of these things. Thus

e.g. 'odd' is a 'number containing a middle': but there is an 'odd

number': therefore there is a 'number-containing-a-middle number'.

Also, if snubness be a concavity of the nose, and there be a snub

nose, there is therefore a 'concave-nose nose'.

  People sometimes appear to produce this result, without really

producing it, because they do not add the question whether the

expression 'double', just by itself, has any meaning or no, and if so,

whether it has the same meaning, or a different one; but they draw

their conclusion straight away. Still it seems, inasmuch as the word

is the same, to have the same meaning as well.



                                14



  We have said before what kind of thing 'solecism' is.' It is

possible both to commit it, and to seem to do so without doing so, and

to do so without seeming to do so. Suppose, as Protagoras used to

say that menis ('wrath') and pelex ('helmet') are masculine:

according to him a man who calls wrath a 'destructress' (oulomenen)

commits a solecism, though he does not seem to do so to other

people, where he who calls it a 'destructor' (oulomenon) commits no

solecism though he seems to do so. It is clear, then, that any one

could produce this effect by art as well: and for this reason many

arguments seem to lead to solecism which do not really do so, as

happens in the case of refutations.

  Almost all apparent solecisms depend upon the word 'this' (tode),

and upon occasions when the inflection denotes neither a masculine nor

a feminine object but a neuter. For 'he' (outos) signifies a

masculine, and 'she' (aute) feminine; but 'this' (touto), though

meant to signify a neuter, often also signifies one or other of the

former: e.g. 'What is this?' 'It is Calliope'; 'it is a log'; 'it is

Coriscus'. Now in the masculine and feminine the inflections are all

different, whereas in the neuter some are and some are not. Often,

then, when 'this' (touto) has been granted, people reason as if 'him'

(touton) had been said: and likewise also they substitute one

inflection for another. The fallacy comes about because 'this'

(touto) is a common form of several inflections: for 'this' signifies

sometimes 'he' (outos) and sometimes 'him' (touton). It should

signify them alternately; when combined with 'is' (esti) it should be

'he', while with 'being' it should be 'him': e.g. 'Coriscus

(Kopiskos) is', but 'being Coriscus' (Kopiskon). It happens in the

same way in the case of feminine nouns as well, and in the case of the

so-called 'chattels' that have feminine or masculine designations. For

only those names which end in o and n, have the designation proper

to a chattel, e.g. xulon ('log'), schoinion ('rope'); those which do

not end so have that of a masculine or feminine object, though some of

them we apply to chattels: e.g. askos ('wineskin') is a masculine

noun, and kline ('bed') a feminine. For this reason in cases of this

kind as well there will be a difference of the same sort between a

construction with 'is' (esti) or with 'being' (to einai). Also,

Solecism resembles in a certain way those refutations which are said

to depend on the like expression of unlike things. For, just as

there we come upon a material solecism, so here we come upon a verbal:

for 'man' is both a 'matter' for expression and also a 'word': and

so is white'.

  It is clear, then, that for solecisms we must try to construct our

argument out of the aforesaid inflections.

  These, then, are the types of contentious arguments, and the

subdivisions of those types, and the methods for conducting them

aforesaid. But it makes no little difference if the materials for

putting the question be arranged in a certain manner with a view to

concealment, as in the case of dialectics. Following then upon what we

have said, this must be discussed first.



                                15



  With a view then to refutation, one resource is length-for it is

difficult to keep several things in view at once; and to secure length

the elementary rules that have been stated before' should be employed.

One resource, on the other hand, is speed; for when people are left

behind they look ahead less. Moreover, there is anger and

contentiousness, for when agitated everybody is less able to take care

of himself. Elementary rules for producing anger are to make a show of

the wish to play foul, and to be altogether shameless. Moreover, there

is the putting of one's questions alternately, whether one has more

than one argument leading to the same conclusion, or whether one has

arguments to show both that something is so, and that it is not so:

for the result is that he has to be on his guard at the same time

either against more than one line, or against contrary lines, of

argument. In general, all the methods described before of producing

concealment are useful also for purposes of contentious argument:

for the object of concealment is to avoid detection, and the object of

this is to deceive.

  To counter those who refuse to grant whatever they suppose to help

one's argument, one should put the question negatively, as though

desirous of the opposite answer, or at any rate as though one put

the question without prejudice; for when it is obscure what answer one

wants to secure, people are less refractory. Also when, in dealing

with particulars, a man grants the individual case, when the induction

is done you should often not put the universal as a question, but take

it for granted and use it: for sometimes people themselves suppose

that they have granted it, and also appear to the audience to have

done so, for they remember the induction and assume that the questions

could not have been put for nothing. In cases where there is no term

to indicate the universal, still you should avail yourself of the

resemblance of the particulars to suit your purpose; for resemblance

often escapes detection. Also, with a view to obtaining your

premiss, you ought to put it in your question side by side with its

contrary. E.g. if it were necessary to secure the admission that 'A

man should obey his father in everything', ask 'Should a man obey

his parents in everything, or disobey them in everything?'; and to

secure that 'A number multiplied by a large number is a large number',

ask 'Should one agree that it is a large number or a small one?' For

then, if compelled to choose, one will be more inclined to think it

a large one: for the placing of their contraries close beside them

makes things look big to men, both relatively and absolutely, and

worse and better.

  A strong appearance of having been refuted is often produced by

the most highly sophistical of all the unfair tricks of questioners,

when without proving anything, instead of putting their final

proposition as a question, they state it as a conclusion, as though

they had proved that 'Therefore so-and-so is not true'

  It is also a sophistical trick, when a paradox has been laid down,

first to propose at the start some view that is generally accepted,

and then claim that the answerer shall answer what he thinks about it,

and to put one's question on matters of that kind in the form 'Do

you think that...?' For then, if the question be taken as one of the

premisses of one's argument, either a refutation or a paradox is bound

to result; if he grants the view, a refutation; if he refuses to grant

it or even to admit it as the received opinion, a paradox; if he

refuses to grant it, but admits that it is the received opinion,

something very like a refutation, results.

  Moreover, just as in rhetorical discourses, so also in those aimed

at refutation, you should examine the discrepancies of the

answerer's position either with his own statements, or with those of

persons whom he admits to say and do aright, moreover with those of

people who are generally supposed to bear that kind of character, or

who are like them, or with those of the majority or of all men. Also

just as answerers, too, often, when they are in process of being

confuted, draw a distinction, if their confutation is just about to

take place, so questioners also should resort to this from time to

time to counter objectors, pointing out, supposing that against one

sense of the words the objection holds, but not against the other,

that they have taken it in the latter sense, as e.g. Cleophon does

in the Mandrobulus. They should also break off their argument and

cut down their other lines of attack, while in answering, if a man

perceives this being done beforehand, he should put in his objection

and have his say first. One should also lead attacks sometimes against

positions other than the one stated, on the understood condition

that one cannot find lines of attack against the view laid down, as

Lycophron did when ordered to deliver a eulogy upon the lyre. To

counter those who demand 'Against what are you directing your

effort?', since one is generally thought bound to state the charge

made, while, on the other hand, some ways of stating it make the

defence too easy, you should state as your aim only the general result

that always happens in refutations, namely the contradiction of his

thesis -viz. that your effort is to deny what he has affirmed, or to

affirm what he denied: don't say that you are trying to show that

the knowledge of contraries is, or is not, the same. One must not

ask one's conclusion in the form of a premiss, while some

conclusions should not even be put as questions at all; one should

take and use it as granted.



                                16



  We have now therefore dealt with the sources of questions, and the

methods of questioning in contentious disputations: next we have to

speak of answering, and of how solutions should be made, and of what

requires them, and of what use is served by arguments of this kind.

  The use of them, then, is, for philosophy, twofold. For in the first

place, since for the most part they depend upon the expression, they

put us in a better condition for seeing in how many senses any term is

used, and what kind of resemblances and what kind of differences occur

between things and between their names. In the second place they are

useful for one's own personal researches; for the man who is easily

committed to a fallacy by some one else, and does not perceive it,

is likely to incur this fate of himself also on many occasions.

Thirdly and lastly, they further contribute to one's reputation,

viz. the reputation of being well trained in everything, and not

inexperienced in anything: for that a party to arguments should find

fault with them, if he cannot definitely point out their weakness,

creates a suspicion, making it seem as though it were not the truth of

the matter but merely inexperience that put him out of temper.

  Answerers may clearly see how to meet arguments of this kind, if our

previous account was right of the sources whence fallacies came, and

also our distinctions adequate of the forms of dishonesty in putting

questions. But it is not the same thing take an argument in one's hand

and then to see and solve its faults, as it is to be able to meet it

quickly while being subjected to questions: for what we know, we often

do not know in a different context. Moreover, just as in other

things speed is enhanced by training, so it is with arguments too,

so that supposing we are unpractised, even though a point be clear

to us, we are often too late for the right moment. Sometimes too it

happens as with diagrams; for there we can sometimes analyse the

figure, but not construct it again: so too in refutations, though we

know the thing on which the connexion of the argument depends, we

still are at a loss to split the argument apart.



                                17



  First then, just as we say that we ought sometimes to choose to

prove something in the general estimation rather than in truth, so

also we have sometimes to solve arguments rather in the general

estimation than according to the truth. For it is a general rule in

fighting contentious persons, to treat them not as refuting, but as

merely appearing to refute: for we say that they don't really prove

their case, so that our object in correcting them must be to dispel

the appearance of it. For if refutation be an unambiguous

contradiction arrived at from certain views, there could be no need to

draw distinctions against amphiboly and ambiguity: they do not

effect a proof. The only motive for drawing further distinctions is

that the conclusion reached looks like a refutation. What, then, we

have to beware of, is not being refuted, but seeming to be, because of

course the asking of amphibolies and of questions that turn upon

ambiguity, and all the other tricks of that kind, conceal even a

genuine refutation, and make it uncertain who is refuted and who is

not. For since one has the right at the end, when the conclusion is

drawn, to say that the only denial made of One's statement is

ambiguous, no matter how precisely he may have addressed his

argument to the very same point as oneself, it is not clear whether

one has been refuted: for it is not clear whether at the moment one is

speaking the truth. If, on the other hand, one had drawn a

distinction, and questioned him on the ambiguous term or the

amphiboly, the refutation would not have been a matter of uncertainty.

Also what is incidentally the object of contentious arguers, though

less so nowadays than formerly, would have been fulfilled, namely that

the person questioned should answer either 'Yes' or 'No': whereas

nowadays the improper forms in which questioners put their questions

compel the party questioned to add something to his answer in

correction of the faultiness of the proposition as put: for certainly,

if the questioner distinguishes his meaning adequately, the answerer

is bound to reply either 'Yes' or 'No'.

  If any one is going to suppose that an argument which turns upon

ambiguity is a refutation, it will be impossible for an answerer to

escape being refuted in a sense: for in the case of visible objects

one is bound of necessity to deny the term one has asserted, and to

assert what one has denied. For the remedy which some people have

for this is quite unavailing. They say, not that Coriscus is both

musical and unmusical, but that this Coriscus is musical and this

Coriscus unmusical. But this will not do, for to say 'this Coriscus is

unmusical', or 'musical', and to say 'this Coriscus' is so, is to

use the same expression: and this he is both affirming and denying

at once. 'But perhaps they do not mean the same.' Well, nor did the

simple name in the former case: so where is the difference? If,

however, he is to ascribe to the one person the simple title

'Coriscus', while to the other he is to add the prefix 'one' or

'this', he commits an absurdity: for the latter is no more

applicable to the one than to the other: for to whichever he adds

it, it makes no difference.

  All the same, since if a man does not distinguish the senses of an

amphiboly, it is not clear whether he has been confuted or has not

been confuted, and since in arguments the right to distinguish them is

granted, it is evident that to grant the question simply without

drawing any distinction is a mistake, so that, even if not the man

himself, at any rate his argument looks as though it had been refuted.

It often happens, however, that, though they see the amphiboly, people

hesitate to draw such distinctions, because of the dense crowd of

persons who propose questions of the kind, in order that they may

not be thought to be obstructionists at every turn: then, though

they would never have supposed that that was the point on which the

argument turned, they often find themselves faced by a paradox.

Accordingly, since the right of drawing the distinction is granted,

one should not hesitate, as has been said before.

  If people never made two questions into one question, the fallacy

that turns upon ambiguity and amphiboly would not have existed either,

but either genuine refutation or none. For what is the difference

between asking 'Are Callias and Themistocles musical?' and what one

might have asked if they, being different, had had one name? For if

the term applied means more than one thing, he has asked more than one

question. If then it be not right to demand simply to be given a

single answer to two questions, it is evident that it is not proper to

give a simple answer to any ambiguous question, not even if the

predicate be true of all the subjects, as some claim that one

should. For this is exactly as though he had asked 'Are Coriscus and

Callias at home or not at home?', supposing them to be both in or both

out: for in both cases there is a number of propositions: for though

the simple answer be true, that does not make the question one. For it

is possible for it to be true to answer even countless different

questions when put to one, all together with either a 'Yes' or a 'No':

but still one should not answer them with a single answer: for that is

the death of discussion. Rather, the case is like as though

different things has actually had the same name applied to them. If

then, one should not give a single answer to two questions, it is

evident that we should not say simply 'Yes' or 'No' in the case of

ambiguous terms either: for the remark is simply a remark, not an

answer at all, although among disputants such remarks are loosely

deemed to be answers, because they do not see what the consequence is.

  As we said, then, inasmuch as certain refutations are generally

taken for such, though not such really, in the same way also certain

solutions will be generally taken for solutions, though not really

such. Now these, we say, must sometimes be advanced rather than the

true solutions in contentious reasonings and in the encounter with

ambiguity. The proper answer in saying what one thinks is to say

'Granted'; for in that way the likelihood of being refuted on a side

issue is minimized. If, on the other hand, one is compelled to say

something paradoxical, one should then be most careful to add that 'it

seems' so: for in that way one avoids the impression of being either

refuted or paradoxical. Since it is clear what is meant by 'begging

the original question', and people think that they must at all costs

overthrow the premisses that lie near the conclusion, and plead in

excuse for refusing to grant him some of them that he is begging the

original question, so whenever any one claims from us a point such

as is bound to follow as a consequence from our thesis, but is false

or paradoxical, we must plead the same: for the necessary consequences

are generally held to be a part of the thesis itself. Moreover,

whenever the universal has been secured not under a definite name, but

by a comparison of instances, one should say that the questioner

assumes it not in the sense in which it was granted nor in which he

proposed it in the premiss: for this too is a point upon which a

refutation often depends.

  If one is debarred from these defences one must pass to the argument

that the conclusion has not been properly shown, approaching it in the

light of the aforesaid distinction between the different kinds of

fallacy.

  In the case, then, of names that are used literally one is bound

to answer either simply or by drawing a distinction: the tacit

understandings implied in our statements, e.g. in answer to

questions that are not put clearly but elliptically-it is upon this

that the consequent refutation depends. For example, 'Is what

belongs to Athenians the property of Athenians?' Yes. 'And so it is

likewise in other cases. But observe; man belongs to the animal

kingdom, doesn't he?' Yes. 'Then man is the property of the animal

kingdom.' But this is a fallacy: for we say that man 'belongs to'

the animal kingdom because he is an animal, just as we say that

Lysander 'belongs to' the Spartans, because he is a Spartan. It is

evident, then, that where the premiss put forward is not clear, one

must not grant it simply.

  Whenever of two things it is generally thought that if the one is

true the other is true of necessity, whereas, if the other is true,

the first is not true of necessity, one should, if asked which of them

is true, grant the smaller one: for the larger the number of

premisses, the harder it is to draw a conclusion from them. If, again,

the sophist tries to secure that has a contrary while B has not,

suppose what he says is true, you should say that each has a contrary,

only for the one there is no established name.

  Since, again, in regard to some of the views they express, most

people would say that any one who did not admit them was telling a

falsehood, while they would not say this in regard to some, e.g. to

any matters whereon opinion is divided (for most people have no

distinct view whether the soul of animals is destructible or

immortal), accordingly (1) it is uncertain in which of two senses

the premiss proposed is usually meant-whether as maxims are (for

people call by the name of 'maxims' both true opinions and general

assertions) or like the doctrine 'the diagonal of a square is

incommensurate with its side': and moreover (2) whenever opinions

are divided as to the truth, we then have subjects of which it is very

easy to change the terminology undetected. For because of the

uncertainty in which of the two senses the premiss contains the truth,

one will not be thought to be playing any trick, while because of

the division of opinion, one will not be thought to be telling a

falsehood. Change the terminology therefore, for the change will

make the position irrefutable.

  Moreover, whenever one foresees any question coming, one should

put in one's objection and have one's say beforehand: for by doing

so one is likely to embarrass the questioner most effectually.



                                18



  Inasmuch as a proper solution is an exposure of false reasoning,

showing on what kind of question the falsity depends, and whereas

'false reasoning' has a double meaning-for it is used either if a

false conclusion has been proved, or if there is only an apparent

proof and no real one-there must be both the kind of solution just

described,' and also the correction of a merely apparent proof, so

as to show upon which of the questions the appearance depends. Thus it

comes about that one solves arguments that are properly reasoned by

demolishing them, whereas one solves merely apparent arguments by

drawing distinctions. Again, inasmuch as of arguments that are

properly reasoned some have a true and others a false conclusion,

those that are false in respect of their conclusion it is possible

to solve in two ways; for it is possible both by demolishing one of

the premisses asked, and by showing that the conclusion is not the

real state of the case: those, on the other hand, that are false in

respect of the premisses can be solved only by a demolition of one

of them; for the conclusion is true. So that those who wish to solve

an argument should in the first place look and see if it is properly

reasoned, or is unreasoned; and next, whether the conclusion be true

or false, in order that we may effect the solution either by drawing

some distinction or by demolishing something, and demolishing it

either in this way or in that, as was laid down before. There is a

very great deal of difference between solving an argument when being

subjected to questions and when not: for to foresee traps is

difficult, whereas to see them at one's leisure is easier.



                                19



  Of the refutations, then, that depend upon ambiguity and amphiboly

some contain some question with more than one meaning, while others

contain a conclusion bearing a number of senses: e.g. in the proof

that 'speaking of the silent' is possible, the conclusion has a double

meaning, while in the proof that 'he who knows does not understand

what he knows' one of the questions contains an amphiboly. Also the

double-edged saying is true in one context but not in another: it

means something that is and something that is not.

  Whenever, then, the many senses lie in the conclusion no

refutation takes place unless the sophist secures as well the

contradiction of the conclusion he means to prove; e.g. in the proof

that 'seeing of the blind' is possible: for without the

contradiction there was no refutation. Whenever, on the other hand,

the many senses lie in the questions, there is no necessity to begin

by denying the double-edged premiss: for this was not the goal of

the argument but only its support. At the start, then, one should

reply with regard to an ambiguity, whether of a term or of a phrase,

in this manner, that 'in one sense it is so, and in another not so',

as e.g. that 'speaking of the silent' is in one sense possible but

in another not possible: also that in one sense 'one should do what

must needs be done', but not in another: for 'what must needs be'

bears a number of senses. If, however, the ambiguity escapes one,

one should correct it at the end by making an addition to the

question: 'Is speaking of the silent possible?' 'No, but to speak of

while he is silent is possible.' Also, in cases which contain the

ambiguity in their premisses, one should reply in like manner: 'Do

people-then not understand what they know? "Yes, but not those who

know it in the manner described': for it is not the same thing to

say that 'those who know cannot understand what they know', and to say

that 'those who know something in this particular manner cannot do

so'. In general, too, even though he draws his conclusion in a quite

unambiguous manner, one should contend that what he has negated is not

the fact which one has asserted but only its name; and that

therefore there is no refutation.



                                20



  It is evident also how one should solve those refutations that

depend upon the division and combination of words: for if the

expression means something different when divided and when combined,

as soon as one's opponent draws his conclusion one should take the

expression in the contrary way. All such expressions as the

following depend upon the combination or division of the words: 'Was X

being beaten with that with which you saw him being beaten?' and

'Did you see him being beaten with that with which he was being

beaten?' This fallacy has also in it an element of amphiboly in the

questions, but it really depends upon combination. For the meaning

that depends upon the division of the words is not really a double

meaning (for the expression when divided is not the same), unless also

the word that is pronounced, according to its breathing, as eros and

eros is a case of double meaning. (In writing, indeed, a word is the

same whenever it is written of the same letters and in the same

manner- and even there people nowadays put marks at the side to

show the pronunciation- but the spoken words are not the same.)

Accordingly an expression that depends upon division is not an

ambiguous one. It is evident also that not all refutations depend upon

ambiguity as some people say they do.

  The answerer, then, must divide the expression: for

'I-saw-a-man-being-beaten with my eyes' is not the same as to say 'I

saw a man being-beaten-with-my-eyes'. Also there is the argument of

Euthydemus proving 'Then you know now in Sicily that there are

triremes in Piraeus': and again, 'Can a good man who is a cobbler be

bad?' 'No.' 'But a good man may be a bad cobbler: therefore a good

cobbler will be bad.' Again, 'Things the knowledge of which is good,

are good things to learn, aren't they?' 'Yes.' 'The knowledge,

however, of evil is good: therefore evil is a good thing to know.'

'Yes. But, you see, evil is both evil and a thing-to-learn, so that

evil is an evil-thing-to-learn, although the knowledge of evils is

good.' Again, 'Is it true to say in the present moment that you are

born?' 'Yes.' 'Then you are born in the present moment.' 'No; the

expression as divided has a different meaning: for it is true to

say-in-the-present-moment that "you are born", but not "You are

born-in-the-present-moment".' Again, 'Could you do what you can, and

as you can?' 'Yes.' 'But when not harping, you have the power to harp:

and therefore you could harp when not harping.' 'No: he has not the

power to harp-while-not-harping; merely, when he is not doing it, he

has the power to do it.' Some people solve this last refutation in

another way as well. For, they say, if he has granted that he can do

anything in the way he can, still it does not follow that he can

harp when not harping: for it has not been granted that he will do

anything in every way in which he can; and it is not the same thing'

to do a thing in the way he can' and 'to do it in every way in which

he can'. But evidently they do not solve it properly: for of arguments

that depend upon the same point the solution is the same, whereas this

will not fit all cases of the kind nor yet all ways of putting the

questions: it is valid against the questioner, but not against his

argument.



                                21



  Accentuation gives rise to no fallacious arguments, either as

written or as spoken, except perhaps some few that might be made up;

e.g. the following argument. 'Is ou katalueis a house?' 'Yes.' 'Is

then ou katalueis the negation of katalueis?' 'Yes.' 'But you

said that ou katalueis is a house: therefore the house is a

negation.' How one should solve this, is clear: for the word does

not mean the same when spoken with an acuter and when spoken with a

graver accent.



                                22



  It is clear also how one must meet those fallacies that depend on

the identical expressions of things that are not identical, seeing

that we are in possession of the kinds of predications. For the one

man, say, has granted, when asked, that a term denoting a substance

does not belong as an attribute, while the other has shown that some

attribute belongs which is in the Category of Relation or of Quantity,

but is usually thought to denote a substance because of its

expression; e.g. in the following argument: 'Is it possible to be

doing and to have done the same thing at the same time?' 'No.' 'But,

you see, it is surely possible to be seeing and to have seen the

same thing at the same time, and in the same aspect.' Again, 'Is any

mode of passivity a mode of activity?' 'No.' 'Then "he is cut", "he is

burnt", "he is struck by some sensible object" are alike in expression

and all denote some form of passivity, while again "to say", "to run",

"to see" are like one like one another in expression: but, you see,

"to see" is surely a form of being struck by a sensible object;

therefore it is at the same time a form of passivity and of activity.'

Suppose, however, that in that case any one, after granting that it is

not possible to do and to have done the same thing in the same time,

were to say that it is possible to see and to have seen it, still he

has not yet been refuted, suppose him to say that 'to see' is not a

form of 'doing' (activity) but of 'passivity': for this question is

required as well, though he is supposed by the listener to have

already granted it, when he granted that 'to cut' is a form of

present, and 'to have cut' a form of past, activity, and so on with

the other things that have a like expression. For the listener adds

the rest by himself, thinking the meaning to be alike: whereas

really the meaning is not alike, though it appears to be so because of

the expression. The same thing happens here as happens in cases of

ambiguity: for in dealing with ambiguous expressions the tyro in

argument supposes the sophist to have negated the fact which he (the

tyro) affirmed, and not merely the name: whereas there still wants the

question whether in using the ambiguous term he had a single meaning

in view: for if he grants that that was so, the refutation will be

effected.

  Like the above are also the following arguments. It is asked if a

man has lost what he once had and afterwards has not: for a man will

no longer have ten dice even though he has only lost one die. No:

rather it is that he has lost what he had before and has not now;

but there is no necessity for him to have lost as much or as many

things as he has not now. So then, he asks the questions as to what he

has, and draws the conclusion as to the whole number that he has:

for ten is a number. If then he had asked to begin with, whether a man

no longer having the number of things he once had has lost the whole

number, no one would have granted it, but would have said 'Either

the whole number or one of them'. Also there is the argument that 'a

man may give what he has not got': for he has not got only one die.

No: rather it is that he has given not what he had not got, but in a

manner in which he had not got it, viz. just the one. For the word

'only' does not signify a particular substance or quality or number,

but a manner relation, e.g. that it is not coupled with any other.

It is therefore just as if he had asked 'Could a man give what he

has not got?' and, on being given the answer 'No', were to ask if a

man could give a thing quickly when he had not got it quickly, and, on

this being granted, were to conclude that 'a man could give what he

had not got'. It is quite evident that he has not proved his point:

for to 'give quickly' is not to give a thing, but to give in a certain

manner; and a man could certainly give a thing in a manner in which he

has not got it, e.g. he might have got it with pleasure and give it

with pain.

  Like these are also all arguments of the following kind: 'Could a

man strike a blow with a hand which he has not got, or see with an eye

which he has not got?' For he has not got only one eye. Some people

solve this case, where a man has more than one eye, or more than one

of anything else, by saying also that he has only one. Others also

solve it as they solve the refutation of the view that 'what a man

has, he has received': for A gave only one vote; and certainly B, they

say, has only one vote from A. Others, again, proceed by demolishing

straight away the proposition asked, and admitting that it is quite

possible to have what one has not received; e.g. to have received

sweet wine, but then, owing to its going bad in the course of receipt,

to have it sour. But, as was said also above,' all these persons

direct their solutions against the man, not against his argument.

For if this were a genuine solution, then, suppose any one to grant

the opposite, he could find no solution, just as happens in other

cases; e.g. suppose the true solution to be 'So-and-so is partly

true and partly not', then, if the answerer grants the expression

without any qualification, the sophist's conclusion follows. If, on

the other hand, the conclusion does not follow, then that could not be

the true solution: and what we say in regard to the foregoing examples

is that, even if all the sophist's premisses be granted, still no

proof is effected.

  Moreover, the following too belong to this group of arguments. 'If

something be in writing did some one write it?' 'Yes.' 'But it is

now in writing that you are seated-a false statement, though it was

true at the time when it was written: therefore the statement that was

written is at the same time false and true.' But this is fallacious,

for the falsity or truth of a statement or opinion indicates not a

substance but a quality: for the same account applies to the case of

an opinion as well. Again, 'Is what a learner learns what he

learns?' 'Yes.' 'But suppose some one learns "slow" quick'. Then his

(the sophist's) words denote not what the learner learns but how he

learns it. Also, 'Does a man tread upon what he walks through?

'Yes.' 'But X walks through a whole day.' No, rather the words

denote not what he walks through, but when he walks; just as when

any one uses the words 'to drink the cup' he denotes not what he

drinks, but the vessel out of which he drinks. Also, 'Is it either

by learning or by discovery that a man knows what he knows?' 'Yes.'

'But suppose that of a pair of things he has discovered one and

learned the other, the pair is not known to him by either method.' No:

'what' he knows, means' every single thing' he knows, individually;

but this does not mean 'all the things' he knows, collectively. Again,

there is the proof that there is a 'third man' distinct from Man and

from individual men. But that is a fallacy, for 'Man', and indeed


every general predicate, denotes not an individual substance, but a

particular quality, or the being related to something in a

particular manner, or something of that sort. Likewise also in the

case of 'Coriscus' and 'Coriscus the musician' there is the problem,

Are they the same or different?' For the one denotes an individual

substance and the other a quality, so that it cannot be isolated;

though it is not the isolation which creates the 'third man', but

the admission that it is an individual substance. For 'Man' cannot

be an individual substance, as Callias is. Nor is the case improved

one