An argument supports a thesis. An argument is a lot like a building. In fact it is a lot like the Parthenon of ancient Athens!1 The thesis statement is the roof, visible for miles around. The building is made from the raw material of facts that you have discovered through reading on your topic. But a building also has a design. Raw material does not hold up a roof by itself. It needs an architect to design a strong structure.
The Parthenon
In the Parthenon Model of Argument2, there are three main things we need: (1) a claim, (2) evidence for the claim, and (3) warrants, or reasons why the facts lead to or support the claim as a generalization.
[ CLAIM or THESIS STATEMENT ]
[warrant] [warrant] [warrant]
| | | | | |
| f | | f | | f |
| a | | a | | a |
| c | | c | | c |
| t | | t | | t |
| s | | s | | s |
| | | | | |
---------------------------------------So as you can see, there is a logical structure at work here. You have facts on your topic, and you know that these facts are problematic. They need an explanation. Some of the facts seem to hang together, to indicate something more. They are evidence of something. In order to use facts as evidence, you must also explain your reasons why the facts in this case support the larger claim of the paper. That’s the warrant. The warrant is, basically, an assumption about how the world works. In this way, it serves as a lens with which to view facts and draw conclusions from them.
This is, more often than not, the reason for class discussions. In class, we learn about other people’s ideas about certain topics. But your own project for the semester could be about a completely different topic. Class discussion is a chance to develop your understanding of warrants for drawing your own conclusions, even if these ideas are formulated in a completely different empirical context. We read other people’s work them not so we can learn their conclusions, but because we want to understand the mechanics of their reasoning. Other authors give us warrants for drawing our own conclusions.
Don’t wait to get started—Build your Parthenon on paper
Building a Parthenon in your own mind takes a lot of effort. Remember, though, building the Parthenon in your own mind does not just happen in your mind. It happens on paper. So don’t wait for the lightbulb to go off before you start writing. Just start writing. You’ll edit it later. And when you get stuck, talk to people about it. Take long walks. (Talking and walking are, arguably, like writing. They get the gears of the brain moving. So when someone asks you what you did all day, and all you did was walk for 10 km, just say, “Oh I was drafting my research essay for anthro…” It’s true.)
And keep at it. Eventually it will all—ding!—appear as one structure, and then you will never, ever forget it. I still remember arguments I made in my undergrad essays. I’m not saying they were the best ideas I ever had. But I do remember when—ding!—it all clicked.
The hard part is building the same building in someone else’s mind…
References
Toulmin, Stephen. 2003 [1958]. The Uses of Argument, 3rd edition. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.
Or, really any building. The Parthenon has columns; that seems to be the only thing about it that is useful for this metaphor.↩︎
The Parthenon Model of Argument was first presented to me by Jackie Giordano, the director of the Making of the Modern World freshman composition program at the University of California, San Diego in 2000. She said that it is a simplified version of Stephen Toulmin’s (2003 [1958]) Model of Argument.↩︎