I’ve invited Lisa Munro to write about the craft of writing and she’s chosen to focus on the central element of all scholarly writing: the argument. Boldly stating your argument requires confidence! That’s not always easy. I particularly like how she provides a formula to help you proceed, even if you are experiencing discomfort. You can do this! — JoVE
If you’re an academic scholar who feels like you keep flailing around in the dark and bumping into the furniture while trying to figure out how to write a real academic argument, keep reading.
Many scholars, when asked about their argument, will launch into extended explanations about the general topic instead of the argument, largely because no one’s ever just sat them down and taught them how to write real academic arguments.
And make no mistake, developing an actual debatable argument that *matters* and says something important (not a topic-as-argument, identifying a “gap in the literature,” an observation, a statement, or a totally unsubstantiated opinion) is THE KEY SKILL you need to learn to stand out in a crowded field of scholarship to get published, advance your career, and make your mark in the world of ideas. (see also: What it means to make a contribution to knowledge)
First, never lose sight of this:
ALL ACADEMIC WRITING IS PERSUASIVE WRITING.
It’s the argument (and the evidence you present in support of that argument) that persuades readers to believe something, or to believe something more strongly than they do now.
I’ll let you in on a secret that I’m guessing no one has told you about: a lot of academic writing is formulaic and you can use that to your advantage.
I’m going to teach you the three main parts of an academic argument and you can then use those three parts to create your own powerful argument.
Step 1: Identify the scholarly idea to which you are responding
We know that scholarship is a conversation, but your readers aren’t necessarily going to know which conversation you’re taking part in, unless you tell them. And you’re not just going to tell your readers which conversation you’re taking part in, you’re going to tell them what the opposing viewpoint is and then contrast it against your own. You’re going to first identify the counter-argument to clarify your own position.
One way to figure out the opposing viewpoint is to figure out what “they say” about your topic.
Here, you’re looking for the common view, the general consensus, the accepted position, or the unspoken assumption about your topic, the idea that’s become invisible because everyone thinks it’s so evident. You can think about it as something “they say” (a big general “they”) about your topic.
When you don’t include the “they say” in your argument, you’ve left readers wondering to which idea you’re responding. Your argument will appear to be floating around in the ether, completely unattached to anything. You’re not entering the existing conversation; you’re having a conversation of one, which is not scholarship.
Your argument needs to engage other people’s ideas. Anchor your argument for the reader by identifying what “they say” and starting your argument with that.
Step 2: Identify what you say in response.
Once you’ve figured out what “they say,” you can juxtapose it against your own idea.
This is your thesis statement, your argument, or your central claim. So this is the part where you articulate your unique take on your topic against what’s come before.
The trick here is to juxtapose the “they say” with what you say.
The juxtaposition is powerful: when you put two opposing ideas together like this, you’re not only signaling to the reader the nature of the conversation you’re having, but you’re also outlining scholarly debates and highlighting your own position.
- “They say” lets readers know what idea you’re challenging
- “I say” let’s readers know what you’re arguing in response
But what happens now if you agree with the previous scholarship? You can still make a strong argument by starting with the “they say” part, but your rhetorical move here is to agree and extend. (Jo notes: This is an incredibly common way to make a scholarly argument.)
I’ll give you an example from my own scholarship.
I was developing an argument about the history of a multinational corporation, which all previous scholarship had framed as terrible. (Because it really was. It’s really just not even debatable.)
There was no way I was going to make an argument that said, “They said that this multinational corporation is terrible, but I say it wasn’t so bad because it brought jobs.” Because it was terrible and I completely agree with the previous scholarship on this.
So, instead, I agreed with the previous scholarship and extended the argument to include my own claim, while also taking the existing scholarship in a slightly different direction. It sounded something like this:
“Previous scholarship has argued that the Terrible Multinational Corporation was terrible because of X, but I argue that it was also terrible because of how it contributed to Y (my own contribution to that conversation).”
Step 3: Tell the reader why you think your idea is true.
This part, for a lot of people, is one of the hardest parts about argumentation.
It’s easy to tell someone what you think; scarier to tell people why you think what you think is true.
But this is the part where you tell us about your reading of the evidence.
- Why do you think that your argument is true?
- What did your reading of the evidence suggest to you to make you think that your argument is true?
Oftentimes, this is a good place to use the words “because” or “as” or “through” or “by” or “based on” because you’re telling us WHY you think your idea is true, or HOW you think something happened based on your reading and interpretation of your evidence. (Jo note: doing this carefully will help you be more confident about your argument, too.)
- How do you know if you really have an argument?
One way to tell if you have an argument is to test it out and see if other people disagree with you. If they do, congratulations–you have an argument.
I have an argument that I keep testing out on Twitter and every time I do, several hundred people show up to tell me why I’m wrong. But this experience has shown me that I do, indeed, have a real argument.
Sometimes you might find yourself feeling anxious about sharing your argument with someone, complete with that butterflies-in-your-stomach feeling. On the other hand, if you’re feeling supremely confident about your argument, you can be pretty sure that it isn’t really an argument.
Arguments often emerge as a response to wonderment or a persistent puzzle the author sees in the world.
If you’ve ever thought, “I wonder how X happened?” or “I wonder why Y happened?” and you’ve answered those questions, you probably have an argument.
Where should you put the argument?
One truism in writing is that if you want your audience to notice something, mention it early.
As the reader, we need you to articulate your argument early on for us. Sometimes novice writers worry about giving away the argument too early, because they think that no one will keep reading.
I love a good mystery novel with a stunning plot twist as much as the next person, but I suggest not using the mystery novel structure for your scholarship (you know, the kind where you do the big reveal of the argument at the end). (Jo notes: My supervisor said almost this exact thing to me when giving me feedback on the first draft of my PhD conclusion.)
Academic writing is persuasive when you present the argument first and then the evidence, rather than sifting through the evidence and then pulling the argument out at the end like a magician pulling a rabbit out of a hat.
- If you’re writing a book, we need the main argument somewhere in the introduction, preferably closer to the beginning, maybe within the first few pages. You might then remind us about the argument periodically throughout the body chapters so we remember what it is, and then also in the conclusion.
- If you’re writing a journal article or conference paper, you’ll want to put the argument in the abstract (which needs to be the best paragraph of your whole paper because it’s the one part you can guarantee people will read) and then put it somewhere in the introduction within the first few paragraphs, and most definitely within the first three pages. You’ll also want to restate the main argument in the conclusion.
Keep working at it. It takes a long time to make a good idea–arguments don’t happen overnight.
You can also keep revising your argument as you draft. Writing helps you think about your evidence and what you think it all means. Then tell us about it in a clear and compelling way.
Related Posts:
How to stop writing for your harshest critics
You don’t have to find a “gap” in the literature
What it means to make a contribution to knowledge
Writing summaries and abstracts
This post was originally sent to the General Newsletter on Friday 17 May and has been lightly edited for republishing here.
