Balancing Neutrality and Advocacy: How to Write a Political Science Case Study Like a Political Scientist

By Paige Harriss

Writing 210: Advanced Academic Writing

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Abstract:

Current researchers suggest that political science students at the university level are unskilled in developing arguments in their writing. This article guides the discovery of what a political science “argument” is, and how, within the argument, a political science writer must maintain a balance between neutrality and advocacy. To do so, it unpacks Professor William Walldorf’s political science article entitled “Argument, Institutional Process, and Human Rights Sanctions in Democratic Foreign Policy” and includes a discourse-based interview with Walldorf to discover the specific writing choices he made within the article. As this study shows, certain rhetorical devices (view-oriented first-person markers and short noun phrases) do indeed allow a writer to subtly introduce an argumentative tone amid an otherwise neutral relating of evidence. Moreover, it shows that these strategies are conscious and methodical choices within a piece of writing. Implications of the study for political science students and the resulting impact on the discipline as a whole are discussed.

Introduction:

Many researchers are finding that, specifically at the university level, political science students often lack the writing skills necessary to perform well within the discipline after college. “Performing well” is a necessarily vague term, for “according to the US Department of Labor’s Bureau of Labor Statistics, more than 60% of political scientists work for the US federal government. Others may want to work for international organizations, think tanks, political consultation firms and lobby groups, or local and regional administration” (Trueb 137). Thus, while the bar for “performing well” cannot readily be labeled across each organization, it is nevertheless true that “in all these areas, writing skills are required that differ from the type of academic writing students are usually taught during their years of study” (Trueb 137).

The dilemma may lie in the fact that “many writing teachers have a bent for literary or auto-biographical writing . . . however, the writing of students fed a steady diet of personal writing often falls apart in the face of more rigorous argumentative and analytical assignments” (Londow 529). In sum, researchers argue, “we have not taken the time to explain how to construct a political science argument” (Londow 529).

Yet while researchers such as Trueb and Londow perhaps agree that students are unprepared in the construction of a political science argument, there seems to be significant difficulty in defining exactly what a “political science argument” is and how, within that argument, a writer must navigate the tricky line between advocating for a specific stance and neutrally exploring an outside viewpoint or legal principle. Focusing on the construction of an argument at the university level holds significant merit. Not only are these students the future of the discipline, but “writing, like playing the piano, is not a skill which can be learned once and for all in freshman composition. It is, arguably, a shared responsibility throughout the liberal arts” (Londow 529).

This article attempts to target my dilemma, explaining how a writer within the political science discipline attempts to balance these two purposes—neutrality and advocacy—within an argument. Most researchers in the discipline do acknowledge the existence of the two—that, in some cases, the writer’s goal is simply to outline a set of prescribed legal principles and in others to advocate for a specific theory or policy. However, in this particular study I propose that even within articles that seem to clearly operate under one purpose, both are nevertheless subtly interconnected and present within the article. In other words, in one piece of writing, both goals—neutrality and advocacy—are present and in conversation with one another, and it is thus the job of the writers to move between placing themselves within the conversation and stepping back into the role of a neutral arbitrator.

Methods:

In order to understand how an author maintains a certain detached yet argumentative presence within his or her writing, a case study approach is a useful method of analysis. The method is “used to generate an in-depth, multi-faceted understanding of a complex issue in its real-life context” in order to “explore an event or phenomenon in depth and in its natural context” (Crowe et al 1). In other words, this emphasis on “real-life” grounds broad and theoretical claims in a more evidence-based reality. Ultimately, then, the approach is a facilitator of “important connections between the theory taught in the classroom and the real-life policy making process” (Trueb 137).

In my specific piece, I will unpack a journal article entitled “Argument, Institutional Process, and Human Rights Sanctions in Democratic Foreign Policy” written by William Walldorf, Associate Professor in the Politics and International Affairs Department at Wake Forest University. Professor Waldorf also provided further insight into the writing choices he made throughout the article in an interview.

Professor Walldorf has written two books regarding American foreign policy and security affairs, as well as numerous peer-reviewed articles. Walldorf taught at Gordon College, Dartmouth College, the University of  Virginia, and Auburn University before instructing at Wake Forest University. Walldorf’s article lent itself well to my study for I noted particular rhetorical devices, such as view-oriented first-person markers and short noun phrases connected within a longer cumulative sentence that seemed to balance the neutral tone of the study with subtle argumentation.

In order to maintain precision, I will first define and explain what I mean by “view-oriented first-person markers” and “short noun phrases.” View-oriented first-person markers such as “from my perspective” or “in my view” “help display the writer’s presence and knowledge and…connect the personalized statement to a perspective or argument (versus an experience)” (Aull 49). Thus, there is a clear link between personalized pronoun evidence markers and argumentation. Additionally, a common lexical cohesion strategy within academic writing is to “use nouns to name main ideas . . . to be more concise” (Aull). Thus, short noun phrases are an interesting device to analyze, not only because they seem to signal the detachment of an academic writer, but also because their placement (back-to-back in a cumulative sentence with semicolons) may introduce a subtle, dramatic effect. Of course, other rhetorical strategies were substantial within the piece, but ultimately, I found these devices significant for their role in balancing the tension between neutrality and advocacy.

View-Oriented First-Person Markers in Addressing a Critical Reader:

One of the primary rhetorical strategies present within the article was the frequent use of view-oriented first-person markers, such as “I argue that,” “I demonstrate the argument,” “I turn first to,” and “I conclude with.” Aside from the obvious deduction that these markers place Walldorf at the forefront of the argument, I noted several other interesting aspects of his use of the strategy. For one, the markers were not consistent throughout the piece—they dwindled during the sections detailing historical-based evidence and increased when the author set out to make claims or address a critical reader. For example, Walldorf separates his argument from or contrasts it to a critical reader’s stance in stating that “some might claim that my argument diminishes the traditional role that constructivists assign to agents. The complaint here is that agents do more than present information or public opinion pressure—they argue, frame, re-frame, and debate. My argument validates the importance of this kind of work by agents” (Walldorf 656). This strategy is twofold—it would seem that in acknowledging the argument of a “critical reader,” Walldorf creates a neutral balance by shedding light on another side of the issue. Walldorf echoed this sentiment in the interview: “If you trash your critics repeatedly, you’re setting up a hostile relationship with your readers. People like to be acknowledged.” However, argument is not absent from this balance. The first-person markers place Walldorf squarely in the middle of the debate and increase the intensity of the discussion. Rather than a neutral relating of an opposing viewpoint, this is a debate, or perhaps a defense, of why Walldorf’s argument should not be overlooked or disregarded by an unwitting “opponent.” However, the intensity of this debate must be suppressed in an effort to maintain the balance between neutrality and argument. Thus, we may perceive this subtle argumentation primarily through the first-person markers and the underlying challenge it engenders.

Furthermore, in increasing the use of these markers during moments of claim-staking and decreasing their use during heavy historical evidence, Walldorf highlights a distinction in tone between sections of the piece. It is evident that Walldorf intends his breakdown of the 1967 Grecian military coup and the US termination of military assistance to Turkey to be neutral – the evidence is not subject to his interpretation or his argument, but rather facilitates his argument in a later section. In other words, he, as the author, is not present within this retelling. In fact, Walldorf voices this intention himself within the article, stating, “In the following, I turn first to alternative ideational explanations of when norms matter. Building upon strengths in this literature, I then detail my argument” (Walldorf 641).

Moreover, in interviewing Walldorf, it was evident that every choice made within the piece, particularly in addressing a “critical reader,” serviced his advocacy within the article. Walldorf commented that in responding to a critical reader, “You’re capturing them and you’re addressing their point. They may not be convinced by how you addressed their point, but you disarmed them by acknowledging the point they raised. It makes the reader either rethink or be convinced or it allows their voice to be heard in your writing.”

Thus, Walldorf confirms the twofold neutrality and advocacy present in addressing a critical reader; the author is not only allowing his or her “voice to be heard” and acknowledging multiple viewpoints, but is also striving to “convince” and “disarm” the opponent in service of the author’s argument. Moreover, Walldorf states, “I think it’s important to admit where those explanations have some leverage, you know, give them their due and then hopefully what you’re saying in your argument is that it does seem to have some leverage there, but here’s the weakness.” Walldorf stresses the give and take of not only leveraging between his own neutrality and advocacy, but also between his argument and the argument of the “other side.”

Syntax to Create a Rhetorical Effect:

Even in the dense evidence sections of the articles, Walldorf subtly prompts an argumentative tone through his use of syntax. Under the section entitled “The Wrong Pressure and Liberalization: US Policy from 1977 to Mid-1984,” Walldorf includes one long cumulative sentence:

Media reports captured daily developments: police kill 50 and wound 174 in a 1980 demonstration; state bans on all political meetings critical of the government; two blacks shot and killed by police at a funeral; the closing of all black newspapers in 1981; the arrest and permanent detention of 43 black trade- union leaders in 1981; the mysterious deaths of anti-apartheid activists while in police detention; new measures that detain individuals indefinitely without trial; widespread reports of torture; and the arrest of 28 black protestors in early 1983. (Walldorf 648)

Short noun phrases are typically indicative of an academic tone, for they develop a concision in their ability to use nouns as main ideas. Walldorf’s placement of these noun phrases, however, seems to introduce an underlying dramatic effect to this academic tone. In explaining the use of the cumulative sentence, Walldorf states, “If there’s a phenomenon that I’m trying to highlight, it’s effective to have punchy historical examples in a rhythmic short sequence. Bam bam bam bam bam—by having them one right after the other, it gives you the sense that they were all talking about the same thing at the same time within a two- or three-day time period.” Clearly, then, if the cumulative sentence does create a dramatic effect, what purpose does the strategy serve? In general, the author strives to maintain a level of neutrality in the midst of this dense historical evidence while also pushing forward his own argument. The cumulative sentence, with its rhythmic sequencing and eye-catching length, is a perfect maneuver for this balance. It serves as a subconscious argumentative maneuver, employing the syntax within the neutral evidence to emphasize the author’s central argument and advocate for his specific theory.

Discussion and Implications of Findings:

Why, then, is it useful to understand how political scientists balance the tension between two differing ideals in their writing, as this case study strives to do? As previously stated, at the university level specifically, this tension may be lost on students trained to write in prose and lacking the skills necessary to craft a sophisticated and rigorous argument. The core of the problem may lie in the fact that even researchers in the political science discipline often neglect to explicitly identify the balance between neutrality and argumentation within the discourse community more generally and how one should be expected to maintain it through the use of rhetorical strategies. Both researchers and students striving to understand the discipline at large must understand this balance.

This analysis, then, guides the discovery of what a political science “argument” is, how it is crafted, and how it connects to the overall goals of the discipline—goals that at times come into conflict because, as Dr. Walldorf states, social science is “social but it’s also scientific. You’re dealing with stories and history, and history is a humanity.” Perhaps, going forward, we must focus on training our political science students at the university level to operate within the space of this ever-present conflict for, in doing so, we will develop an academic political science community capable of generating even more sophisticated arguments in the future. In the meantime, we must also further analyze the ways in which a writer must navigate the tricky line between, essentially, argumentation and neutrality.

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Works Cited

Aull, Laura. Nouns and Concision Handout. Wake Forest University, Writing 210. 2018.

Aull, Laura. Writing 210 Course Packet. Wake Forest University, Writing 210. 2018.

Crowe, Sarah, et al. “The Case Study Approach.” BMC Medical Research Methodology, vol. 11, no. 1, 2011,

doi:10.1186/1471-2288-11-100.

Londow, David Z. “Writing in Political Science: A Brief Guide to Resources.” PS: Political Science & Politics, vol. 26,

no. 03, 1993, pp. 529–533, doi:10.1017/s1049096500038488.

Trueb, Bettina. “Teaching Students to Write for ‘Real Life’: Policy Paper Writing in the Classroom.” PS: Political

Science & Politics, vol. 46, no. 01, 2013, pp. 137–141doi:10.1017/s1049096512001333.

William Walldorf, C. “Argument, Institutional Process, and Human Rights Sanctions in Democratic Foreign Policy.”

European Journal of International Relations, vol. 16, no. 4, Dec. 2010, pp. 639–662, doi:10.1177/1354066109344015.

Walldorf, William. Personal interview. 2 November 2018.

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A Word from Paige    

  My inspiration for writing this paper was very much inspired by frustrations I had with my own writing. Coming into college, I was somewhat aware that I could write reasonably well and craft some semblance of an argument. However, particularly in my political science classes freshman year, the grades I received on papers were rarely what I expected. After weeks pouring over my writing in the library for an assignment, I would receive a less than stellar grade. I was frustrated – I thought I knew how to write. I thought that, especially as an intended political science major, these were the classes I was supposed to excel in. Turns out, I didn’t even realize that I had no idea what the writing conventions of my discipline were or how to apply them myself. Receiving the prompt for this paper in the fall of my sophomore year, in which I was to investigate the writing tropes of a discipline of my choosing, I thought to myself, enough was enough. This was going to be the assignment where I finally understood how to write in the political science discipline and would no longer have to pave my own road.

Conducting research for the case study was eye-opening. I found that I was not the only one who had no idea how to write in my discipline – many students trained to write in their high school English class have little grasp on the discipline-specific rhetorical strategies they are expected to know upon entering college. Ultimately, I learned two valuable lessons from my experience writing this paper. First and foremost, just because you do not understand the conventions of a certain discipline does not mean you are not a good writer or do not have the skills to craft an argument. Secondly, learning the conventions of a discipline takes time—it does not come to you in a surge of inspiration or even with the tenth, eleventh, or fifteenth paper you write. This knowledge may not even be offered to you in a handout or in the rubric of an essay prompt. You have to do a little digging and ask the right questions. The advice I received from Dr. Aull and Dr. Walldorf, and the disciplinary tools I gained from writing this case study, have shown me that taking the time to learn about one’s discipline is important— but it might be that we have to show students what they don’t know before the process begins.

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From Professor Laura Aull

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Paige’s essay “Worn Ties” was published in the 2018 edition. You may view her narrative essay here.