Book 1, Chapter 7

The Use of Sophistical, Hypothetical, and Similar Arguments[62]

5 min

The handling of sophistical and hypothetical arguments, and of those which derive their conclusions from questioning, and in a word the handling of all such arguments, relates to the duties of life, though the many do not know this truth. For in every matter we inquire how the wise and good man shall discover the proper path and the proper method of dealing with the matter. Let then people either say that the grave man will not descend into the contest of question and answer, or, that if he does descend into the contest, he will take no care about not conducting himself rashly or carelessly in questioning and answering. But if they do not allow either the one or the other of these things, they must admit that some inquiry ought to be made into those topics (τόπων) on which particularly questioning and answering are employed. For what is the end proposed in reasoning? To establish true propositions, to remove the false, to withhold assent from those which are not plain. Is it enough then to have learned only this? It is enough, a man may reply. Is it then also enough for a man, who would not make a mistake in the use of coined money, to have heard this precept, that he should receive the genuine drachmae and reject the spurious? It is not enough. What then ought to be added to this precept? What else than the faculty which proves and distinguishes the genuine and the spurious drachmae? Consequently also in reasoning what has been said is not enough; but it is necessary that a man should acquire the faculty of examining and distinguishing the true and the false, and that which is not plain? It is necessary. Besides this, what is proposed in reasoning? That you should accept what follows from that which you have properly granted. Well, is it then enough in this case also to know this? It is not enough; but a man must learn how one thing is a consequence of other things, and when one thing follows from one thing, and when it follows from several collectively. Consider then if it be not necessary that this power should also be acquired by him, who purposes to conduct himself skilfully in reasoning, the power of demonstrating himself the several things which he has proposed, and the power of understanding the demonstrations of others, and of not being deceived by sophists, as if they were demonstrating. Therefore there has arisen among us the practice and exercise of conclusive arguments and figures, and it has been shown to be necessary.

Handling sophistical arguments, hypothetical arguments, and arguments that reach conclusions through questioning is part of the business of life. The same is true of all such arguments, though most people do not know it. In every matter, we ask how the wise and good man will find the right path and the right way to deal with it. Let people say, then, either that a serious man will not enter a contest of questions and answers, or that, if he does, he will not care whether he questions and answers rashly or carelessly. But if they accept neither claim, they must admit that we should study the topics (τόπων) in which questioning and answering are especially used. What is the aim of reasoning? To establish true propositions, reject false ones, and withhold assent from those that are not clear. Is it enough, then, merely to have learned this? A man may reply that it is enough. But is it also enough for a man who wants to avoid mistakes with coins to have heard this rule? He should accept genuine drachmae and reject counterfeit ones. No, that is not enough. What should be added to the rule? Surely he needs the ability to test drachmae and tell the genuine from the counterfeit. So in reasoning, too, what we have said is not enough. A man must also acquire the ability to examine and distinguish what is true, what is false, and what is not clear. Must he not? He must. Besides this, what is the aim of reasoning? You should accept what follows from what you have rightly granted. Well, is it enough in this case, too, merely to know this? It is not enough. A man must learn how one thing follows from others, and when it follows from one thing or from several things taken together. Consider, then, whether a man who intends to reason skillfully must also acquire this ability. He must be able to demonstrate for himself the various things he has put forward, and understand the demonstrations of others. He must also be able to avoid being deceived by sophists who make it seem as if they are demonstrating something. That is why we have developed the practice and exercise of conclusive arguments and figures, and why they have been shown to be necessary.

See Schweig.'s note on ἀποδείξειν ἕκαστα ἀποδόντα.

These are syllogisms and figures, the forms (τρόποι) by which a syllogism reaches its proper conclusion.

The title is περὶ τῆς χρείας τῶν μεταπιπτόντων καὶ ὑποθετικῶν καὶ τῶν ὁμοιων. Schweighaeuser has a long note on μεταπίπτοντες λόγοι, drawing on various critics. Mrs. Carter translated the title 'Of the Use of Convertible and Hypothetical Propositions and the like.' But "convertible" might be understood in its usual logical sense, which is not what Epictetus means. Schweighaeuser explains that μεταπίπτοντες λόγοι are sophistical arguments. In these arguments, the meaning of propositions or terms should remain the same, but is skillfully changed and twisted into another meaning.

But in fact in some cases we have properly granted the premises or assumptions, and there results from them something; and though it is not true, yet none the less it does result. What then ought I to do? Ought I to admit the falsehood? And how is that possible? Well, should I say that I did not properly grant that which we agreed upon? But you are not allowed to do even this. Shall I then say that the consequence does not arise through what has been conceded? But neither is this allowed. What then must be done in this case? Consider if it is not this: as to have borrowed is not enough to make a man still a debtor, but to this must be added the fact that he continues to owe the money and that the debt is not paid, so it is not enough to compel you to admit the inference that you have granted the premises (τὰ λήμματα), but you must abide by what you have granted. Indeed, if the premises continue to the end such as they were when they were granted, it is absolutely necessary for us to abide by what we have granted, and we must accept their consequences: but if the premises do not remain such as they were when they were granted, it is absolutely necessary for us also to withdraw from what we granted, and from accepting what does not follow from the words in which our concessions were made. For the inference is now not our inference, nor does it result with our assent, since we have withdrawn from the premises which we granted. We ought then both to examine such kinds of premises, and such change and variation of them (from one meaning to another), by which in the course of questioning or answering, or in making the syllogistic conclusion, or in any other such way, the premises undergo variations, and give occasion to the foolish to be confounded, if they do not see what conclusions (consequences) are. For what reason ought we to examine? In order that we may not in this matter be employed in an improper manner nor in a confused way.

In some cases, we have rightly accepted the premises, or assumptions, and a conclusion follows from them. Though the conclusion is false, it still follows. What should I do then? Should I accept the falsehood? How could I? Should I say I was wrong to accept the premises we agreed on? But I cannot do that either. Should I say that the conclusion does not follow from what I accepted? I cannot do that either. What, then, must I do? Consider whether the answer is this: borrowing money is not enough to make a person a debtor still. The person must also continue to owe the money, and the debt must remain unpaid. In the same way, having accepted the premises (τὰ λήμματα) is not enough to compel you to accept the inference. You must also stand by what you have accepted. If the premises remain to the end just as they were when we accepted them, we must stand by them. We must also accept their consequences. But if the premises do not remain as they were when we accepted them, we must withdraw our acceptance. We must also refuse to accept what does not follow from the words in which we made our concessions. For the inference is no longer ours, nor does it follow with our agreement. We have withdrawn our acceptance of the premises. We should therefore examine these kinds of premises and the ways they change from one meaning to another. Premises can change during questioning or answering, when a syllogistic conclusion is drawn, or in some other such way. These changes can confuse foolish people if they do not see what conclusions follow. Why should we examine them? So that we do not deal with these matters improperly or confusedly.

Compare Aristotle, Topic. viii. 1, 22 (ed. J. Pac. 758). Later, Epictetus uses τὰ ὡμολογημένα to mean λήμματα (premises or assumptions).

"The inference," τὸ ἐπιφερόμενον. "Ἐπιφορά est 'illatio' quae assumptionem sequitur" (Upton).

And the same in hypotheses and hypothetical arguments; for it is necessary sometimes to demand the granting of some hypothesis as a kind of passage to the argument which follows. Must we then allow every hypothesis that is proposed, or not allow every one? And if not every one, which should we allow? And if a man has allowed an hypothesis, must he in every case abide by allowing it? or must he sometimes withdraw from it, but admit the consequences and not admit contradictions? Yes; but suppose that a man says, If you admit the hypothesis of a possibility, I will draw you to an impossibility. With such a person shall a man of sense refuse to enter into a contest, and avoid discussion and conversation with him? But what other man than the man of sense can use argumentation and is skilful in questioning and answering, and [6] incapable of being cheated and deceived by false reasoning? And shall he enter into the contest, and yet not take care whether he shall engage in argument not rashly and not carelessly? And if he does not take care, how can he be such a man as we conceive him to be? But without some such exercise and preparation, can he maintain a continuous and consistent argument? Let them show this; and all these speculations (θεωρήματα) become superfluous, and are absurd and inconsistent with our notion of a good and serious man.

The same is true of assumptions and arguments based on them. Sometimes we need to ask someone to accept an assumption so that we can proceed with the argument. Must we accept every assumption proposed, or reject them all? And if we should not accept them all, which should we accept? If someone has accepted an assumption, must he always stand by it? Or must he sometimes withdraw it, while accepting its consequences and rejecting contradictions? Yes, but suppose someone says, If you accept an assumption about what is possible, I will lead you to an impossibility. Should a sensible man refuse to debate with such a person and avoid discussing or talking with him? But who other than a sensible man can reason skillfully, ask and answer questions, and [6] resist being cheated and deceived by false reasoning? And should he enter the debate without taking care not to argue rashly or carelessly? If he takes no such care, how can he be the sort of man we imagine him to be? But can he maintain a continuous and consistent argument without some such practice and preparation? Let them show that he can. Then all these theories (θεωρήματα) are unnecessary, absurd, and inconsistent with our idea of a good and serious man.

Why are we still indolent and negligent and sluggish, and why do we seek pretences for not labouring and not being watchful in cultivating our reason? If then I shall make a mistake in these matters may I not have killed my father? Slave, where was there a father in this matter that you could kill him? What then have you done? The only fault that was possible here is the fault which you have committed. This is the very remark which I made to Rufus when he blamed me for not having discovered the one thing omitted in a certain syllogism: I suppose, I said, that I have burnt the Capitol. Slave, he replied, was the thing omitted here the Capitol? Or are these the only crimes, to burn the Capitol and to kill your father? But for a man to use the appearances presented to him rashly and foolishly and carelessly, and not to understand argument, nor demonstration, nor sophism, nor, in a word, to see in questioning and answering what is consistent with that which we have granted or is not consistent; is there no error in this?

Why are we still lazy, careless, and sluggish? Why do we make excuses for not working hard and staying alert as we develop our reason? “But if I make a mistake in these matters, I haven’t killed my father, have I?” Slave, where was there a father in this matter for you to kill? What have you done, then? You have committed the only fault that was possible here. That is just what I said to Rufus when he criticized me for not finding what was missing from a syllogism. “I suppose I’ve burned the Capitol,” I said. “Slave,” he replied, “was it the Capitol that was missing here?” Are burning the Capitol and killing your father the only crimes? What about someone who responds to the appearances presented to him rashly, foolishly, and carelessly? What if he understands neither argument, nor demonstration, nor sophistry? What if, in short, he cannot see whether questions and answers agree with what we have already accepted? Is there no error in that?

Rufus is Musonius Rufus (i. 1). Killing a father and burning the Roman Capitol are examples of the greatest crimes. Comp. Horace, Epode, iii.; Cicero, De Amicit. c. 11; Plutarch, Tib. Gracchus, c. 20.