Adam Kissel
March 1998

Anyone who seeks to study "the rhetorics of science and religion," whether or not science and religion are seen as ultimately commensurate domains, probably ought to begin with this question: which rhetorical strategies, generally speaking, are particular to "science," which strategies are particular to "religion," and which strategies can be used profitably, even if in different ways, by both? In fact it seems essential to define and describe rhetoric before proceeding to try to describe the unwieldy terms religion and science. If one goal of the study of rhetoric is to find common ground from which opponents can develop their arguments, it seems important to begin with a search for rhetorical strategies that can be shared, understood, appreciated, and granted persuasive force by "religionists" and "scientists" alike, especially by what seems like a large number of people who believe, rightly or wrongly, that religion and science are fundamentally opposed.

The present study does not claim to explain or even outline the strategies shared by science and religion. Rather it tries to point the way toward further, more comprehensive studies. Toward this end I have chosen a relatively short piece, of limited scope: an evolution debate from 1925, just a few weeks before the famous Scopes trial.¹ Even so, a full examination of all the rhetorical strategies here is outside the scope of this paper. I find in this debate a topic that is easily accessible and still of interest today, but debated today with quite different data (the debate predates molecular genetics). For these reasons I expect that contemporary readers will be better disposed to focus on the rhetorical strategies in play than on the quality of the content of the debate. Following the judges of the debate, my goal is that we deliberate "on the merits of the debate, and not on the merits of the controversy" (176). Thus I hope to bring the rhetorical strategies into relief better than if I chose a debate in which the reader's passion outstrips the desire to truly understand the strategies of both points of view.

At the same time, I recognize that one is hard pressed to find readers fully sympathetic to the views of an anti-evolutionist. As a Christian, I am about as sympathetic as can be to those who would take the Genesis account literally, but given the evidence, biological evolution seems to me to be a much stronger interpretation than would be a literal creation of each species by God out of nothing. My mind certainly is with the scientist. Nevertheless, as a Christian I also am convinced that such evolution has a rather limited value in explaining the implications, especially the ethical ones, of the universe in which we live. While my mind is with the scientist, my heart is with the religionist.

The field of rhetoric studies is immense. Again, merely to point the way to a more complete study, I have chosen just two sources. Chaim Perelman and L. Olbrechts-Tyteca have published a remarkable treatise, The New Rhetoric: A Treatise on Argumentation (Notre Dame: U. of Notre Dame, 1969), from which I draw the majority of my understanding of rhetorical strategies. Also, Wayne Booth and Marshall Gregory, in The Harper and Row Rhetoric (2^nd ed., New York: HarperCollins, 1991; hereafter HRR), give a rather thorough explanation of the uses and misuses of what are often called "rhetorical fallacies." Occasionally I will direct the reader to one of these sources for more information.

I follow Perelman and Olbrechts-Tyteca in justifying the usefulness of this kind of project:

Likewise I follow them in their important warning about such a method:

Keeping this warning in mind, I will take each speech in turn, analyzing its rhetorical strategies and, where appropriate, its defenses against its opponent and its strategies of reinforcement when the original strategies are challenged.

Even before the debate has started, the evolutionist (Maynard Shipley) has several advantages. First, the theory of evolution itself makes use of the "device of stages." Perelman explains that when we see "a detailed account of the successive stages of a phenomenon," we are more likely to believe in the conclusion (145). Some stages may be clearer than others, but once a few stages are seen to be clear, we more readily agree to the other stages. Evolutionists, likewise, provide as many "missing links" as they can, and then reasonably assume that we will believe in the existence of the other missing links, even though we have no samples of them.

Second, evolutionary theory sets itself up as a science, in which physical evidence can be brought directly into the room. One cannot deny the existence of a fossilized Archaeopteryx or a living "crossover" species like the platypus, even if the objects are not physically present during the discussion. Thus the evolutionist has the advantage of presence. In other words, as Perelman notes, things that we see, or ideas which are presented to our consciousness, tend to gain priority and importance merely because they are in front of us (115 ff.). The opponent must instead reinterpret the evidence. We will see below how the debaters use competing interpretations of the evidence.

Third, the definition used for the present debate presupposes a broad analogy: biological evolution is patterned after the gradual development of the universe (6). This analogy gives biological evolution an extra foothold. In the analogy, if we can be persuaded that the structure of the universe is such that we may speak of "the gradual development from the simple unorganized condition of primal matter to the complex structure of the [present] physical universe," we are already more disposed to believe that "in like manner, [there has been] a gradual unfolding and branching out" of all the world's species. Repetition of the word "gradual," together with the syntax of the final sentence of the definition, completes the analogy: "the first is called inorganic, the last, organic evolution." Indeed the question itself to be debated presupposes the analogy, as though evolution is singular: "Resolved, That the earth and all life upon it are the result of evolution" (7, italics always in original).

Once the debate begins, Shipley uses the advantage given by this analogy, taking inorganic evolution as a conceptual grounding for organic evolution:

Shipley is presenting a universe in which evolution seamlessly proceeds from inorganic to organic development. In this model evolution is a law, in which biological development merely awaits the full inorganic development of the earth. We will see that his opponent (Francis Nichol) challenges the universe which Shipley is presenting, not on the basis of the analogy, but by challenging each kind of evolution separately. If Nichol is successful in that strategy, then no challenge of the analogy would seem to be necessary.

Shipley uses several other rhetorical strategies that are especially suitable for use by an evolutionist. As a scientist, Shipley can claim added credibility when he invokes the cautious skepticism of the scientific method. Concluding the introduction to his first speech, Shipley remarks:

The first part of the first sentence is an explicit attempt to give presence to the idea of the scientific method, as well as to a vision of real scientists working carefully in their laboratories. In the second part of the sentence, Shipley emphasizes the quality of the research, which, he says, is always advancing and purging false ideas. The conclusion for the audience to draw is that any scientific proposition, on the authority of scientists the world over, is true if they all (or almost all) agree that it is true.

Again, Shipley repeats the point and adds to it. Shipley is explaining scientific method to the audience, using repetition to increase "presence," with the advantage of showing respect for the audience's ability to understand:

Shipley's goal fits squarely with an end no lesser than "the advancement of human knowledge." By showing that scientists are willing to abandon a cherished idea for the greater goal of knowledge, Shipley likely gains credibility with the audience.

Shipley returns once more to the scientific method at the end of his first speech, reminding the audience that

In this iteration Shipley has added a few strategies. First, he distinguishes "official" science from the mistaken idea of science that theologians have. Second, implicitly equating "high scientific standing" with having superior scientific knowledge, he again appeals to the authority of the most knowledgeable scientists.

Taking a step back for a moment, it seems that scientific reasoning, with its emphasis on knowledge, has a particular edge when it aims to persuade. The scientific method provides an ethos of credibility; tangible evidence provides presence; knowledge can be easily linked to authority in direct proportion; and scientists can maintain a hold on what counts as "true" science. In returning to Shipley's first speech, I next shall examine his appeals to authority and to "real" science.

What makes for a scientific authority?² Shipley does not really answer this question, except to say that it has something to do with keeping up with the scientific literature (when he challenges that William Jennings Bryan is not an authority, 16). But what is sure is that scientific authorities are "the only persons competent to judge such matters" relating to their own fields (25; implied, 23). Anyone who challenges such an authority, however, "exposes himself either to the charge of insincerity or to inexcusable ignorance of the subject" (25). Shipley claims both sincerity and knowledge for the side of scientists in general and evolutionist scientists in particular.

Second, appeals to "real" science make for what Perelman calls a "dissociative philosophical pair," in which two kinds of abstract terms are compared by devaluing the first and emphasizing the value of the second (411 ff.). Here, Shipley contrasts pseudo-science with "real" science, and the pseudo-scientist with the real scientist. For example, William Jennings Bryan, he says, has been challenging biological evolution not as it really is, but as Bryan, a person without scientific authority, sees evolution (14 ff.). Bryan himself had set up the "pseudo-science-real science" dissociative pair in order to label his own "wart theory" understanding of evolution as pseudo-science. Turning the tables on Bryan, however, Shipley accepts that the "wart theory" is pseudo-science. Real science, on the other hand, has nothing to do with Bryan's "wart theory," as Shipley proceeds to demonstrate. All of this is to establish a new dissociative pair, "pseudo-scientist-real scientist," under which Bryan is a pseudo-scientist and practicing evolutionists are the real scientists.

In the same context, Shipley introduces another set of dissociative pairs. The truly "honest student of science," the truly "sincere opponent of evolution," would be able to "find out what evolutionists really teach," merely by reading "one up-to-date textbook on the subject" (16). Shipley repeats: "No sincere student would assert to-day that either real scientists or 'pseudo-scientists' teach that limbs developed from warts" (16). Again, in setting up the pairs "dishonest-honest" and "insincere-sincere," Shipley constructs a division between the anti-evolutionists and the evolutionists.

Likewise, quoting Thomas Huxley, Shipley refers to another dissociative pair for which scientists have some affinity, "rhetoricians-scientists." The rhetorician, it is often said,

Here the rhetorician and the religiously prejudiced and the anti-evolutionist are all thrown together on the same side of a divide as pseudo-students of science, while scientists and sincere students, who respect their audience, are the only ones who can be trusted.

The use of dissociative philosophical pairs, when taken to this extreme, begins to cross over into a rhetorical fallacy called "false dichotomy," in which the terms dissociated are actually not as distinct as the speaker claims. When he quotes Huxley, Shipley is just starting to cross the line, for it is clear that Shipley himself has not stayed completely clear of rhetorical strategies; moreover, they seem to fundamental to his argument, and we shall identify briefly about a dozen more such strategies.

The danger of falling into a false dichotomy is particularly salient in a speech of a scientist, for the scientist often wants to distance himself from an idea such as "religion." Many scientists, too many to name, write using an "either/or thinking" that seems to require us to accept only one of two alternatives: either the scientist is "right" and "religion" is wrong, or--if we disagree--then we are said to be against science, against even rationality. Many rhetoricians, again too many to name, challenge such a rash use of either/or thinking. While such thinking is useful when it highlights a true dichotomy, religion and science are fluid enough terms to prevent such a neat separation. This fluidity is one topic Nichol will emphasize in his dissenting speech.³

It is disappointing that the proponent of science, supposedly the more rational, logical debater, so easily (and so often) uses this fallacious reasoning. Shipley's fault is especially clear when he suggests an inescapable choice between natural science and supernatural religion, or, specifically, between "natural law" and "magic":

Later, in his rebuttal to Nichol, Shipley uses either/or thinking even more starkly: "if you do not accept the theory of evolution, you have to substitute for it a theory of magic" (86; see also 13, 27). The "modern" student, who is keeping up with the textbooks, who is logical and clear-headed, puts myths aside in favor of the better, true story of evolution told by the unerring proponents of natural law. In turn, "the evolutionist is simply a student of nature [who proceeds in a] reasonable, rational, logical way" (86). Shipley adds the strategy of "transitivity" (Perelman 227) to this part of the argument: nature does not lie, so the clear-headed evolutionist cannot be deceived; if so, the clear-headed student of the evolutionists cannot be deceived; therefore Shipley, who is not religious and therefore clear-headed, cannot be deceived; so, if the audience would only dissociate itself from the "pre-scientific myths and legends of antiquity," nature will not deceive them either.

Although Shipley accepts that his belief in evolution is a form of faith (he is nonetheless quite wary of the term), he is careful to note that he believes in a "law of evolution" to the same degree that he believes in a "law of gravitation" (39). Shipley's faith in evolution is grounded in the natural and the rational. To him this is faith enough, so that no further supernatural religion is needed. He would scarcely call his beliefs "faith" at all.

Shipley's faith also presupposes the ability of the scientific method to produce accurate results. If the scientist's methods and aims are correct, he implies, the conclusions will be correct as well (10). What Shipley minimizes, however, is a critical look at the methods of science in themselves. When so much rides on a proper interpretation of the evidence, we might hope that Shipley would explain a little more about how evolutionists come to their conclusions. But Shipley leaves the question of interpretation primarily to Nichol (to Nichol's advantage), claiming only (to his own disadvantage) that a theory is required before interpretation can proceed (11). He instead demonstrates four important, while not logically rigorous, methods of reasoning: reasoning by agency-in-analogy, by example, by multiple hierarchies, and by the "device of stages."

First, Shipley cannot escape the presumption that homologous structures in different animals are related by more than mere analogy. If an ancient fish fin has nearly all the same parts as an amphibian hand, Shipley links the fish to the amphibian with the claim of evolution (17). Likewise, if lungfish structures "resemble" or are "very much like" amphibian structures, Shipley interprets the homology as an evolutionary link (21). Shipley does not consider alternate explanations, and this silence gives Nichol an opportunity to sow doubt in the minds of the audience.

Second, one of Shipley's stronger arguments is that evolution not only can explain certain curious facts such as embryonic development, but it also can "predict the existence of unknown facts" (34-35). For example (and it is hard to prove this point except by example), because Goethe believed the theory of evolution, he knew to look for a human mid-jaw-bone that is homologous to that of other mammals, and he found it (35-36). Shipley's point is strong, but look how he embellishes his example:

Look, Shipley exclaims, Goethe-the great poet-and philosopher, too-was an evolutionist, and Goethe even challenged the orthodoxy of his day in the name of truth. Day after day, Goethe worked hard in a sea of human remains, until he finally found a proper skull and vindicated clear-headed science over against the enemy, namely, insincere anti-evolutionists. Shipley, it seems, can not help but draw on stories and examples, including well-placed qualifiers (cf. Perelman 126 ff.), in order to strengthen his position.

Third, Shipley presumes a multiple hierarchy (cf. Perelman 341) of three sets of relationships: the lower the stratum of rocks, the older the rocks, the more primitive the fossils (13, 30, 37). As in the vast majority of such scientific hierarchies, the relationships are quantitative rather than qualitative, although one could argue that judgments of "more primitive" are actually qualitative judgments. These hierarchies make use of, as I mentioned above, the "device of stages": the relations in age among certain strata of rocks in a certain location may be clear, but, as Nichol will show, other strata in other locations will not so clearly fit the same age-depth double hierarchy, yet we tend to persist in imagining the relationship. This multiple hierarchy is essential to evolutionists' interpretation of physical evidence, yet such uncertainties make it more fragile than it at first seems. This fragility becomes even more evident when, as Nichol will claim, one has to accept all three hierarchies ahead of time and then arrange the data to match the presumptions.

Fourth, the "device of stages" cannot be overstressed, for one of evolution's greatest aspirations is to show conclusively how the fish became amphibians, how the amphibians then became reptiles, and how the reptiles then became birds and mammals. While it is hard to believe that a fish birthed an amphibian, it is much easier to believe that there were a series of intermediate forms:

Gradual transformation is much easier to believe than sudden change. Thus evolutionists often insist on a very gradual transition from one form to another, beginning with very "general" kinds of organisms (22, 23, 30, 32). The identification of further "missing links" or "bridges" (21) becomes a vital tool of persuasion for evolutionists.

These four methods of quasi-logical reasoning (this term is Perelman's), so long as they remain essential to persuasion about the justification of the theory of evolution, help to ensure that evolution remains a questionable theory and not, as Shipley concludes, a "proved theory" (38). We tend to see what we would prefer to see, and it is clear that the evolutionist prefers to interpret the evidence-even if he is correct-in the way most favorable to the theory of evolution. Shipley is persuasive, but he is not convincing. His rhetorical strategies match those of the scientist, yet he cannot help but use quasi-logical strategies as well. Following the "device of stages" to its logical conclusion, realizing that today's humans are not likely to be the final result of human evolution, Shipley sees in evolution a new kind of faith, quoting Huxley, "a reasonable ground of faith in [our] attainment of a nobler future" (39).

Before moving ahead to Nichol's response, it is worth briefly mentioning a few of Shipley's rhetorical strategies that are not even quasi-logical but which seek to persuade by other means. First, Shipley appeals to the audience's fear of "waste." Perelman explains that in general we desire to avoid an irreparable situation or a situation in which something is lost or wasted; anything that does not fulfill its potential is lamented (279). What are we to do, then, Shipley asks, with fossilized bones? He proposes to preserve their value by fitting them into a scheme of evolution: "Without the theory of evolution fossilized bones would be junk" (11).

Second, as I mentioned briefly above, Shipley is careful to show respect for the audience. He makes sure to refer to the audience every so often with a phrase like, "Some one may ask here, . . ." (18). Also, he appeals to the intelligence of the audience. He claims that it is so easy to understand the origin of the earth, given the purposes of the present debate, that an explanation "may be dismissed in a few words" (11; cf. 12). Since it is likely that neither Shipley nor the audience cared much about inorganic evolution, but instead wanted to consider organic evolution (and besides, inorganic evolution seems to have been introduced primarily as an analogy to help justify organic evolution), Shipley shows respect for the audience by expatiating on the subject they really came to hear about.

Third, Shipley is not above attacking his opponents personally. In the process of ridiculing Bryan's "wart" theory, Shipley accuses Bryan of deliberately distorting the theory of evolution in order to draw "fat fees" for his own lectures. Shipley nearly accuses him of "obtaining money under false pretenses" (18). But even if the attack is justified, Bryan's morals in fact have nothing to do with the validity of the theory of evolution. If it were not for Bryan's standing as an authority in other matters, one would think that Shipley is simply discrediting the wildest anti-evolutionist dogma, tearing down Bryan as a straw man, in order to lend credence to his own theory.

Fourth, Shipley shows sincerity, a trait which he stresses and repeats elsewhere, by admitting weak points in his argument (cf. Perelman 473). For example, he explains where "the geological record is very incomplete," as in the case of fossilized birds, and then gives a good reason for the incompleteness of the data (23). Even though this weakness is minor, because enough evidence yet exists for the "device of stages" to hold sway, Shipley shows the careful reasoning which he has espoused as the unique province of the scientist.

Fifth, Shipley resorts to quantitative evidence that clearly has no power to convince, but which is designed primarily to persuade by virtue of numbers. He quotes Huxley to say that humans are more similar to the higher apes than the higher apes are to the lower apes; "in other words, there are greater differences" among the apes themselves than among certain ape species and humans. Shipley is relying on an argument of comparative similarity, organ by organ (33). Next, he names the large number of structural characteristics ("nearly 400") shared by humans and the apes. Although this fact seems compelling, Shipley does not mention how many characteristics are different-are there 400 similarities but 4,000 differences?

Sixth, and finally (if only because further examples provide us with diminishing returns), Shipley does not mind summing up his points with sheer wordplay:

From all these examples, it is clear that Shipley, while presenting a case grounded in the natural and the rational, aims to persuade the audience also with quasi-logical and even, almost, illogical rhetorical strategies.

I have already mentioned many of the points at which Nichol's speech will challenge Shipley's. Nichol also goes beyond Shipley's points and uses rhetorical strategies that Shipley does not use. Again, what will be interesting to examine is not just the variety of rhetorical strategies Nichol uses, but the extent to which these strategies are particularly well suited to a nonscientist or a "religionist." In the present study it is also important to identify strategies that Shipley and Nichol use in common.

Nichol opens with a rather different perception of the audience. Shipley spoke as a scientist, as much to a "universal audience" (Perelman 30 ff.) as to the audience in front of him, putting the debate in the context of the whole history of mankind, and launching into his speech without a single word recognizing the specific people before him (9). Nichol, in contrast, opens with a recognition of each group of people in the audience, including his opponent:

Furthermore, Nichol does not neglect the universal audience, suggesting that his speech will appeal to "all thinking people." In the same phrase Nichol shows respect for the intelligence of his audience, while in the next phrase, as Shipley did not, he also suggests respect for the audience's values. While Shipley had said only that people have been curious about their origins, Nichol makes sure to emphasize that the question is seen as tremendously important to everyone.

When Nichol proceeds to the content of his speech, he (like Shipley) seeks to establish "presence," but in his own view. Repeating verbatim the terms of the resolution they are debating, he reminds the audience that Shipley carries the burden of proof, while Nichol's task "is simply to show that the evidence submitted does not warrant the conclusion he has drawn" (40-41). In this sentence Nichol makes clear that he will be thinking rationally, like Shipley, weighing the evidence at least as carefully as Shipley himself. In fact Nichol will present about five major challenges, and several minor challenges, to Shipley's version of evolution. While the presence of empirical evidence and strict conclusions seems to favor the scientist's side, the ability to provide the presence of novel interpretations and ambiguous conclusions, rationally using the same evidence, seems to favor the religionist's side.

Nichol's first substantial challenge to Shipley comes at the broadest level: the structure of reality. Nichol does not accept the broad analogy presumed by the evolutionary theory, that the universe has been constantly evolving seamlessly from inorganic through organic evolution. Rather he breaks the analogy into its parts, asserting a different structure of reality, one having three distinct (and numbered) parts:

While Nichol might have claimed that God is the source of each part, he probably also would have claimed that each origination was a separate creation. In any case, the burden of proof is on Shipley, and Nichol has swiftly brought into question Shipley's most basic presumption.

Nichol's strategy here has another use. Shipley had avoided Part 2 almost entirely, claiming only that the smallest examples of organic life, the ones closest in form to inorganic matter, were simply too small to see (12). Indeed the largest gap, the "most missing" among the missing links, is the original life form that rose out of the dust or slime of the earth (42-43). By giving Part 2 a presence coequal with the other parts, and then showing that Part 2 is completely lacking in evidence, Nichol is able to drive a wedge between Parts 1 and 3, destroying the analogy.

Nichol's next substantial challenge comes in his objection to the extent of the authority of the scientists. Perelman explains how a successful challenge of the authorities creates a condition of "universal doubt," in which we must question humanity's very ability to reason adequately about certain points (309-10). Perhaps Nichol returns us to a world mostly enshrouded in mystery and in which not even the scientists, despite a vast collected knowledge, have a suitable explanation of its workings. At the very least, Nichol accepts and appropriates the hierarchy that Shipley used when Shipley implicitly equated "high scientific standing" with superior scientific knowledge, only to posit its inherent incompatibility. If the people with the most knowledge yet admit that the evidence is ambiguous, a condition of "universal doubt" prevails, and the authorities are really no more authoritative than anyone else on questions of evolution. In Nichol's words:

The two-part implication is, first, that on Shipley's own terms-in light of Shipley's own admission of inferiority to the cosmologists-since inorganic evolution is doubted among the authorities, Shipley (and the audience) must also doubt inorganic evolution; second, if nobody is a worthy authority, inorganic evolution likewise has no support except by educated guesses.

Nichol shows, right and left, that the kind of authorities Shipley presumed upon in fact admit their inability to come to positive conclusions regarding evolution (43, 52, 57, 67, 69, 81). For example, when it comes to the geological record, Nichol finds an authority who makes a good case for the idea that "the interpretation of the geological record [is] extremely hazardous" (65). Even if the aims and methods of science may be correct, even if the authorities are correct, at least one authority is unwilling to confirm or deny evolution on the basis of fossils. This point seems to be rather important to Nichol, or at least he wants the audience to think so, for he repeats the word "hazardous" three more times (65-67). As another example, while today many of the problems of biological evolution have cleared with the rise of molecular genetics, in 1925 it was reasonable for an authority ("in the same class with . . . Darwin") on Mendelian genetics to state "that it has no relation whatever to the evolution of species . . . but is really antagonistic to such evolution!" (81).

These two challenges set the stage for Nichol's main challenge, that evolutionists, snowed by "Darwin's persuasive theories and descriptions to get them to 'seein' things'" (65), seeing only what they expect to see, are reasoning in a circle.⁴ If the structure of reality is not necessarily the way the evolutionists say it is, and if universal doubt prevails at least enough to render the authorities far less than authoritative, on what can the evolutionists base their reasoning? They must build their theories on the evidence, but they are stuck interpreting their evidence in terms of their pre-existing theories. Nichol argues that

Even if theories involving the supernatural are not accepted, Nichol implies, evolutionists themselves have been willing to entertain other theories of the origin of species via natural laws. Nichol concludes that what is now taken as evidence for evolution really consists primarily of "tampered witnesses" (46 ff.).⁵

Nichol goes so far as to conclude, again with reference to published evolutionist authorities, that the theory of evolution is held "not because of any convincing evidence, for the evidence is equivocal," but as a matter of faith (82-83). Evolutionists look through Darwin's broken glasses and, out of habit or desire, see nothing but evolution (48). Evolutionist science in Nichol's view is looking more and more like a religion. The evolutionists seem to be caught in a tight circle. How can they extricate themselves?

To leave Nichol's reasoning for a moment, it seems that the circle in fact is not quite as tight as Nichol draws it. First, as HRR points out, that "all reasoning is finally circular" does not necessarily disqualify the reasoning or the science that uses it (239). Second, to borrow a term from physicist Steven Weinberg, a theory may safely use "retrodiction" as part of its justification; people wrongly tend to fear that "for the theory to fit [previously known] facts is not a reliable test of the theory."⁶ Third, from Shipley's point of view, evolution is a broad theory accepted across a wide range of scientific disciplines. Evolution in his view was not invented to account for anomalies in some other theory regarding the empirical evidence, but to account for nearly the whole of the evidence itself. Thus to Shipley evolution is a "proved theory," proved through a method of reasoning that plausibly connects the empirical facts together (38-39). As he had said at the beginning of the debate, "an accumulation of recorded facts is practically worthless unless we have a well grounded theory on which the facts can be rationally and logically interpreted" (199). To Shipley this is not begging the question, but accounting for a very large and diverse set of mutually supportive evidence.

Nichol answers this response in his final rebuttal: "no theory is true simply because it is plausible" (91). Again Nichol returns to the fact that although evolution seems completely plausible, other interpretations of the facts are not unlikely to arise. As evidence he notes that Darwin's own particular theory of evolution had already been discredited by proponents of a newer, more general theory of evolution (92). If evolutionary theory is so malleable, Nichol argues, it is better to take away the adjective "proved" and let evolution remain merely a "theory" (93). But to me this line of reasoning prohibits us from claiming any real knowledge about anything; I would follow Shipley in retreating only half an epistemological step to say that we can know things at least as well as we can know the law of gravity.

In any case, once Nichol has challenged the evolutionists' interpretations in general, rightly or wrongly, his fourth, extended challenge comes in his reinterpretation of Shipley's evidence. Since in the present project the rhetorical strategies are more important than the content of the reinterpretations, I mention only one item here. Shipley had based a significant portion of his claims on the presumption that homologous structures, in different animals, are related by more than simple analogy. But Nichol challenges, "All that can be proved" is the analogy:

In this case, Nichol's interpretation of homologous structures is simpler than Shipley's. Nichol similarly reinterprets the evidence of embryological recapitulation (56-57) and fossils in geological strata (59-61).

Nichol's fifth major challenge is to shatter the geological "multiple hierarchy" established by Shipley. Does the evidence really prove that the lower strata of rocks both are older and contain more primitive fossils? Nichol asserts that it does not, and he shows that the strata seem to be haphazardly mixed. Again, Nichol's presentation of the evidence (62-63, 66-68) is less important here than his strategy. It is as though the scientist keeps saying to the religionist, "Look, the world is much more understandable than you thought," and the religionist looks at the same world and keeps replying, "Indeed, the world is much less understandable than you thought." The scientist builds hierarchies and finds patterns in analogies, and the religionist tears them down. The reverse might turn out to be true in a debate about ethics: the religionist may construct a system of morals that the scientist will challenge as baseless. Because of the limitations of the present debate, then, it is "extremely hazardous" (65) to draw any firm conclusions about rhetorical strategies.

Let us now briefly examine, for the sake of somewhat more completeness, a few of Nichol's minor challenges. The first four can be considered responses to Shipley and can be considered to be shared understandings about a common rhetorical strategy. Others use the same strategies that Shipley used but concern different topics, and others are new altogether, but we will examine only a few.

First, Shipley had claimed an epistemological analogy between gravity and evolution (39). Nichol, conversely, separates the "theory of evolution" from the "law of gravitation" in his metaphor of the broken three-legged stool (69). In this image, the stool, representing evolution, crashes to the ground under the weight of "real" science, represented by gravity. Second, Shipley had belittled creationism as myth and magic, but Nichol uses the same strategy of ridicule to belittle the predictions and reconstructions of evolutionists (79). Third, Nichol appropriates the sheer wordplay used by Shipley and extenuates the humor:

Fourth, Nichol presents a dissociative philosophical pair, namely "unscientific fact-'truly scientific fact'": the evolutionists' unscientific facts dictate that life has arisen from non-life, but "The only truly scientific fact known as to life is that life can not be produced except from life" (42). This incompatibility, in Nichol's view, is what causes so many evolutionists to become "baffled" (43).

Nichol's new rhetorical strategies are much more interesting. Most important among them is the challenge of "false composition" (see HRR 244). Nichol cries foul, for example, when scientists "construct a whole man out of a jawbone" (76). Can the Heidelberg Man, a supposed human ancestor, be constructed from one piece of bone? Again it seems that Nichol, though his point may be correct, is being unfair. Perelman explains how someone in the scientist's place, when challenged upon a difficult point, may have to use arguments that are too difficult or subtle for the audience to grasp. Shipley does not have the time, Nichol knows, to adequately explain what can and cannot be extrapolated from a jawbone. When Shipley has his chance to reply, then, he can only give the barest outline of an answer. The charge of "false composition" seems particularly well suited to an anti-science position in a debate, but it also seems particularly unethical.

Minor new strategies of Nichol include appealing to a relativistic mode of interpretation as opposed to the supposedly objective mode of science (48); using humor (using a goat story, 49-50); using an argument by exclaiming that he will not mention it (51); making a point of explaining rhetorical strategies to the audience in order to undercut the devices of the opponent-minimizing objections (51), knowing the difference between an example and an illustration (54; see Perelman 358), and breaking rules of evidence (56); also, showing the practical dangers of believing his opponent (you could have lost your thyroid, 54); and enallage of person (Perelman 177-78), i.e., using a change of pronouns to intensify the thought (70, where suddenly the debate is "they" versus "us").

After this onslaught, what can Shipley do? Shipley's response can be divided into three categories: those rhetorical strategies which he reinforces or repeats, those strategies which he brings forth in order to answer Nichol's challenges, and new strategies. It is important to note, as does Shipley, that the rebuttal time is quite limited, and thus only a few points can be addressed (90); of course this is a rhetorical strategy in itself.

In the first category, Shipley repeats his bifurcation of the "theory of evolution" and the "theory of magic" (85-86); he reasserts his trust in the authority and reasonableness of the evolutionists (85-86); and he again shows sincerity by admitting exceptions to his rule that "all men of science the world over believe in evolution":

Shipley's sincerity in finding exceptions is undercut, however, by his humorous inability to find scarcely one exception, maybe, and a German at that. But what is this nationalism doing in his argument? It is understandable in its contribution to the humor of the passage, but as a convincing scientific argument, it barely deserves a place-and yet Shipley repeats his appeal to post-World War I nationalism: "I did not have time to show you how many in England or this country were evolutionists" (85). This strange appeal makes me think that Shipley knew that he had lost the upper hand in the debate.

In the second category, a few items are worth noting. Shipley does try to answer the charge of false composition regarding the Heidelberg jawbone, explaining that other skeletons with similar jawbones are available for comparison (87-88). But this argument by comparison of homologous structures has already been challenged by Nichol, so to proponents of Nichol the argument probably falls flat, and there is not time to give the full explanation. Likewise there is not enough time to explain fully the causes of the inconsistencies of the rock strata, but Shipley does what he can (89-90). Also, he challenges Nichol's strategy as a destructive, ridiculing "tearing down," which on the level of Shipley's hierarchies and presumptions is true (89). In fact Nichol's job in the debate was to see if he could expose and tear down Shipley's presumptions as false.

In the third category, beyond the pathos of nationalism, Shipley lays on thick the pathos of hardworking, well-meaning scientists:

and so forth (89). Again, it is hard to understand Shipley's words of impassioned humanness (whether feigned or real) except in the context of someone who has decided that reason alone will not win the day.

To conclude this study and examine Nichol's final rebuttal, it could be divided into four categories: he could challenge anything among the three categories of Shipley's rebuttal, and he could add another set of rhetorical strategies of his own. It may be easier, however, to consider many of these short arguments together and leave out the less interesting ones. In general, Nichol asserts that Shipley has not adequately met Nichol's challenges. In particular, he reaffirms that Shipley commits the rhetorical fallacy of claiming a false dichotomy between magic and evolution (91); he explains that Shipley has been unable to recover from the challenge of his authorities (91, 92); Nichol complains that Shipley's new explanations are tainted interpretations (95); and Nichol says that he has not in fact been ridiculing science (91, 96). Nichol also uses a form of epitrope (Perelman 488), granting that evolutionists are indeed widespread, but countering that he also has shown why they believe in evolution (91), and he uses preterition (Perelman 487), bringing up a tender argument from which the evolutionists had shied away (95).

Furthermore Nichol uses an example to increase "presence" regarding the insufficiency of Shipley's argument by homologous structures. After reading a passage which explains that the Neanderthal skull is quite similar to some human specimens, including that of a Catholic bishop, he exclaims:

Nichol's argument by counterexample here seems to close the book on Shipley's argument.

Finally, Nichol returns with his dissociative philosophical pair, "'science'--true science," in full force:

In this final turning of the tables, Nichol has the last word,⁷ and he defines "true science" as the opposite of evolution "science."

What have we learned from this long explanation of the rhetorical strategies of a seventy-five-year-old debate? Following Nichol, any hasty conclusion is likely to be "extremely hazardous." Perhaps examinations of at least three or four more debates, on widely divergent topics, are required before we can say that we have enough data to draw up some moderately firm generalizations. Nevertheless it has been clear that many rhetorical strategies are available in common to, and can be used successfully by, at least one religionist and at least one scientist. This study has been mostly descriptive, pointing the way toward a comprehensive study of the common, preferred, and unique rhetorical strategies used by "religion" and by "science."