assertion sentence in an essay

Definition of Assertion

When someone makes a statement investing his strong belief in it, as if it is true, though it may not be, he is making an assertion. Assertion is a stylistic approach or technique involving a strong declaration, a forceful or confident and positive statement regarding a belief or a fact. Often, it is without proof or any support. Its purpose is to express ideas or feelings directly, for instance, “I have put my every effort to complete this task today.”

Types of Assertion

Assertion has four types, including:

Basic Assertion

It is a simple and straightforward statement for expressing feelings, opinions, and beliefs such as:

• “I wish I could have expressed this idea earlier, because now someone else has taken the credit.”
• “Excuse me, first I want to finish my work, then I shall go with you.”

Emphatic Assertion

It conveys sympathy to someone, and usually has two parts: the first encompasses recognition of the feelings or situations of the other person, and the second is a statement that shows support for the other person’s viewpoint, feelings, or rights such as:

• “I understand you are busy, and me too, but it is difficult for me to finish this project on my own. So, I want you to help me complete this project.”
• “I know this is making you angry and frustrated because you have not gotten a response yet. But I can help you by giving you an estimate of how long it might take.”

Escalating Assertion

It occurs when someone is not able to give a response to a person’s basic assertions, and therefore that person becomes firm about him or her such as:

• “If you do not finish this work by 6:00 tonight, I I will engage the services of another worker.”
• “I really want to finish this point before you start yours.”

Language Assertion

It involves the first person pronoun “I,” and is useful for expressing negative feelings. Nevertheless, it constructively lays emphasis on a person’s feelings of anger such as:

• “When you speak harshly, I cannot work with you because I feel annoyed. Therefore, I want you to speak nicely and then assign me a task.”
• “When I don’t get enough sleep, it affects my nerves and I feel irritated. Therefore, I try to go to bed earlier.”

Examples of Assertion in Literature

Example #1: animal farm (by george orwell).

In Animal Farm , pigs make use of assertion as a tool for making propaganda in the entire novel . This is to weaken the position of other animals, preventing contradiction with their rules and leadership. In chapter seven, Squealer informs other animals that they need not sing the original anthem of the Old Major, Beasts of England — a song they used to inspire the revolution in the chapter one. Squealer asserts, saying:

“It’s no longer needed, comrade … In Beasts of England we expressed our longing for a better society in days to come. However, that society has now been established. Clearly this song has no longer any purpose.”

Look at his language where he gives them information that is obvious, which they have realized already, and no one can make arguments against it. Thus, no one argued against his assertion.

Example #2: Pride and Prejudice (By Jane Austen)

Elizabeth conceals her surprise at the news of Darcy’s plan to marry her. When Lady Catherine objects to this marriage, as Bennets have low connections and their marriage would ruin Darcy’s position before his friends and society, Elizabeth attempts to defend her family background by asserting:

“ I am a gentleman’s daughter.”

In fact, she sets herself free from the exasperating control of snobs like Miss Bingley, Mr. Collins, and Lady Catherine, and declares:

“I am … resolved.”

Then further says with assertion:

“… to act in that manner, which will, in my own opinion, constitute my happiness, without reference to you, or to any person so wholly unconnected with me.”

Example #3: Cherry Orchard (By Anton Chekov)

Trofimov and Lopakhin exchange barbed words, and Lopakhin calls Trofimov an “eternal student.” When Lopakhin asks Trofimov’s views about him, Trofimov replies that he considers Lopakhin as “a soon-to-be-millionaire,” and “a beast of prey.” Then, Gayev points towards the conversation about pride the two men had earlier.

Trofimov asserts with reasoning about the folly of their pride, as man is a “pretty poor physiological specimen,” they are in misery, and “the only thing to do is work.” Although, he was pessimistic about the current situation of humans, however, he starts feeling optimistic for their future. He expresses this idea with assertion and rebukes Russian intellectuals, as they do not even know the meaning of work.

Example #4: Othello (By William Shakespeare)

DESDEMONA : “I never did Offend you in my life, never loved Cassio But with such general warranty of heaven As I might love. I never gave him token.”

In these lines, Desdemona makes a dying assertion that she is innocent, denying Othello ’s accusations. However, blinded by emotion and furious, Othello is resolved to kill her.

Function of Assertion

The function of assertion is to let readers to feel that they should not disagree or dispute what they read or hear; rather, they should accept the idea or notion as an indisputable fact. It has proved to be one of the best approaches for writers to express their personal feelings, beliefs, and ideas in a direct way. By using this technique, writers can defend others’ feelings and rights if violated. This rhetorical style also expresses self-affirmation and rational thinking of personal respect or worth. It is very common in various fields of life, like literature, politics, advertisements, and legal affairs.

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How to Write Assertions

The assertion is one of the most important parts of an essay- especially an argumentative one- so it’s very important that you know how to write them.

The assertion is where you make a claim and/or clearly define the side you want to argue. It's easy to get lost when coming up with assertions. . Here’s a quick guide to help you write perfect assertions for your essay.

Be knowledgeable

Before you start writing your assertions, make sure your facts are straight. Do some research on the subject, and collect any important information that you might need. Remember, every topic has two sides to it. 

Learn what they are, the pros and cons of each, and then compare. Be extra vigilant when looking for sources. There should be a reputable source behind any claim, so that you can be sure they’re accurate.

Back it all up

Your assertions needs to be a stable throughout. One of the best ways to hold up your assertions is to surround them with your research findings. I recommend following the assertion, evidence, commentary rubric. 

An essay asserting that Martin Luther King Jr. was a great man would be true, but unconvincing if you don’t have enough evidence to support it, and commentary to explain yourself? In addition, be careful not to stray too far away from your topic when using evidence. Use your thesis statement as a stabilizing guide while you are writing.  

Be clear and concise

Since each assertion lets you take a stand on your topic, it’s very important that you keep things clear and concise. Don’t beat around the bush. State your claim during the introduction, but don’t elaborate extensively yet. That’s for the latter parts of the essay. There’s also no need to use too many adjectives. Just keep everything short and to the point. Ideally, an assertion is only one sentence long, much like a thesis statement.

Be thematic

Once you’ve written your assertions down, you can proceed with the rest of your essay. You have to keep in mind that your essay’s structure has to be built around the assertions that you made in the first place. This means that most of the things you write afterwards should support and corroborate your assertions, and not contradict them. 

You can present differing evidence, but be sure that they are used as possible counter-arguments, and address them efficiently in your essay.

Other Tools & Resources

The hitchhikers guide to the galaxy is a wholly remarkable book. The day we meet our adventurous crew is the single worst Thursday of Arthur Dent's life. "'Funny,' he intoned funereally, 'how just when you think life can’t possibly get any worse it suddenly does. '" Sadly, it is not just Arthur who is having a bad day. This particular Thursday, is the Thursday earth is udderly destroyed for a completely disappointing reason. There's only one who knew what was to take place, and he himself was not even from earth. Ford Prefect, best friend of Arthur is a smooth talking, blanket carrying person from the remote planet of Betelgeuse Five. “A towel, [The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy] says, is about the most massively useful thing an interstellar hitchhiker can have." As you were probably able to infer, Ford Prefect was not the name given to him by his parents, but instead the name of a car that was never popular, which he chose as his moniker, as to better fit in with the humans of earth. Our story begins with Arthur waking up early at his London flat. This was just like any other Thursday, except that outside, a demolition crew was beginning to destroy his house to create a highway bypass. This was news to Arthur...

An abstract is a single paragraph, without indentation, that summarizes the key points of the manuscript in 150 to 250 words. For simpler papers in Paul Rose’s classes, a somewhat shorter abstract is fine. The purpose of the abstract is to provide the reader with a brief overview of the paper. When in doubt about a rule, check the sixth edition APA style manual rather than relying on this template. (Although I prefer only one space after a period, two spaces after a period are suggested by the sixth­edition APA manual at the top of page 88.) This document has a history that compels me to give credit where it’s due. Many years ago I downloaded a fifth­edition template from an

 on the outcome of one man's idealistic motives and desires of dabbling with nature, which result in the creation of a horrific creature. Victor Frankenstein is not doomed to failure from his initial desire to overstep the natural bounds of human knowledge. Rather, it is his poor parenting of his progeny that lead to his creation's thirst for the vindication of his unjust life. In his idealism, Victor is blinded, and so the creation accuses him for delivering him into a world where he could not ever be entirely received by the people who inhabits it. Not only failing to foresee his faulty idealism, nearing the end of the tale, he embarks upon a final journey, consciously choosing to pursue his creation in vengeance, while admitting that it may result in his own doom. The creation of an unloved being and the quest for the elixir of life holds Victor Frankenstein more accountable for his own death than the creation himself.

Although humans have the tendency to set idealistic goals to better future generations, often the results can prove disastrous, even deadly. The tale of Frankenstein, by Mary Shelley, focuses on the outcome of one man's idealistic motives and desires of dabbling with nature, which result in the creation of a horrific creature. Victor Frankenstein is not doomed to failure from his initial desire to overstep the natural bounds of human knowledge. Rather, it is his poor parenting of his progeny that lead to his creation's thirst for the vindication of his unjust life. In his idealism, Victor is blinded, and so the creation accuses him for delivering him into a world where he could not ever be entirely received by the people who inhabits it. Not only failing to foresee his faulty idealism, nearing the end of the tale, he embarks upon a final journey, consciously choosing to pursue his creation in vengeance, while admitting that it may result in his own doom. The creation of an unloved being and the quest for the elixir of life holds Victor Frankenstein more accountable for his own death than the creation himself.

What is Assertion? Definition, Usage, and Literary Examples

Assertion definition.

An assertion (uh-SUR-shun) is an emphatic declaration by a speaker or writer. It’s not necessarily factually correct, but the person making the assertion forcefully states their belief as if it were true.

The word assertion first appeared in English in the early 15th century as assercioun and meant “a declaration or confirmation.” The word derived from either the Old French assercion or Late Latin assertionem , which translates as “to claim to or to appropriate.”

Types of Assertion

There are five types of assertion: basic, emphatic, escalating, I-language, and positive.

• A basic assertion is a straightforward statement that expresses a belief, feeling, opinion, or preference. For example: “I would like to finish this email before we have our conversation.” or “I would like you to wait until I have finished speaking.”
• An emphatic assertion occurs when the speaker or writer conveys sympathy or recognition of the other person’s position or feelings. This acknowledgement is then followed by a statement that conveys the speaker’s own beliefs. For example: “I recognize you are busy with multiple projects, but I still need a response to my email by Thursday.”
• An escalating assertion begins with an assertion that doesn’t receive a response. The speaker or writer then escalates by making a second assertion that states their position more forcefully. For example, “If I do not hear back from you by Thursday, I will have to hire someone else to work on this project.”
• I-language assertions are frequently used during interpersonal conflict to defuse the situation. As the term’s name indicates, these statements rely on the first person pronoun I . An I-language assertion requires a description of the other person’s behavior followed by how it affects the speaker, a description of their feelings, and a statement indicating what the speaker wants. For example: “When you are late to a meeting, I become irritable because I feel as if you do not value our work enough to be on time. Therefore, I would like you to arrive on time for our meetings.”
• Positive assertions occur when speakers asserts positive feelings about themselves or others. For example, “My presentation went very well today.” or “You used a wonderful analogy in your essay.”

Why Writers Use Assertion

Assertions are emphatic direct statements. Because assertions are to the point, they leave little room for confusion; therefore, writers use them to clearly convey information to their readers. Assertions appear in many different genres as a way of expressing passionate statements of belief, communicating information clearly, or building a persuasive argument.

Assertion vs. Claim

The words assertion and claim tend to be used interchangeably, but they are not the same.

There are two significant differences between these two terms. Firstly, claims need to be arguable; assertions can be statements of fact that don’t need to be argued. Secondly, assertions are stated in a forceful and direct manner, while claims can be presented with greater nuance and support.

Although claims and assertions are both declarations, assertions are more emphatic.

Assertion Outside of Literature

We encounter assertions in our personal and professional lives. Assertions can be communicative declarations in the workplace or in personal relationships. People who comfortably make assertions about their preferences, beliefs, feelings, boundaries, and opinions are referred to as assertive.

Examples of Assertion in Literature

1. Nikki Giovanni, “ BLK History Month ”

Giovanni ends her free verse poem with a concluding couplet :

You’re As Good As Anybody Else

You’ve Got A Place Here, Too

These assertions convey plainly and strongly the value of Black history and Black people, as well as how much they belong.

2. Maggie Nelson, The Argonauts

In Nelson’s book of autotheory, she combines memoir with thoughts about the writing process, psychoanalysis, developmental psychology, and queer and feminist theory. Early in her book, she recounts the beginning of her relationship with her partner:

I feel I can give you everything without giving myself away, I whispered in your basement bed. If one does one’s solitude right, this is the prize.

Nelson’s unambiguous assertion about her feelings, and the combination of intimacy and personal boundaries that she wants the relationship to contain, allows the romance to progress.

3. William Shakespeare, Henry VI, Part 3

In Scene II of this early Shakespeare play, King Edward IV and Lady Grey have the following exchange:

KING EDWARD IV: To tell the plain, I aim to lie with thee.

LADY GREY: To tell you plain, I had rather lie in prison.

In this dialogue, Edward asserts his desire to be physically intimate with Lady Gray, and she asserts her strong preference for going to prison rather than becoming close with him. These assertions in such quick succession set up the relationship that will ultimately develop between these two characters and show them both to be plainspoken and direct rather than deceitful.

Further Resources on Assertion

Melanie Newton wrote a useful post about how to use the five types of assertions to communicate better in professional and personal relationships.

Amanda Petrona offers advice on the Classroom website about how to make effective assertions in literary analysis.

Related Terms

• Thesis 

Chapter 3 Developing Assertions: From a Close Reading of Examples

3.1 a close reading of the details, learning objectives.

• Understand how to provide a close reading of different types of details.
• Explain how to provide a close reading of creative works, non-fiction, and personal experiences.
• Discuss how to extend the implications of loaded words, metaphorical language, images, and sounds.

Everywhere we turn, we hear people engaging in analysis. Sitting in a coffee shop, we overhear fellow caffeine addicts discussing diet fads, politics, and the latest blockbusters. Watching television, we listen to sports commentators discuss which team has the best chance to win the Super Bowl, comedians rip on the latest cultural trends, and talk show hosts lecture their guests on the moral repugnance of their actions. Still most of the time I find myself dissatisfied with the level of these conversations. Too many people throw out blanket judgments they can’t defend while too many others mindlessly nod in agreement. If more people actually took the time to carefully examine their subjects, they might discover and articulate more satisfying and worthwhile perspectives. This chapter will help you to consider the components that make up your subject in a way that avoids the traps of a closed mind—trying to make everything fit into a ready-made interpretation—or an empty mind—giving your subject a fast read or a cursory glance.

The best way to begin your analysis is with an attentive, open mind; something that is more difficult than most of us care to admit. Our analytical muscles often grow flabby through lack of use as we rush from one task to the next, seldom pausing long enough to consider anything around us. From an early age, overwhelmed by school, scheduled activities, and chores, we discovered that it is much easier to accept someone else’s explanations than to think for ourselves. Besides, original thinking is rarely encouraged, especially in school where deviating from the teacher’s perspective seldom results in good grades. It should therefore come as no surprise that the ability to slow down long enough to fully consider a subject is, for most of us, difficult, and not something that comes naturally. It is, however, definitely worthwhile to do so. Remember how Jeff, the frustrated student from Chapter 1 "Analysis for Multiple Perspectives" , wasted hours staring at his computer screen because he did not think very deeply about The Tempest when he first read it? Paying close attention when you first encounter a subject will save you time down the road.

Learning to prioritize the details on which to focus is just as important as learning how to pay close attention to a subject. Each detail does not warrant the same amount of consideration. Consider, for example, meeting someone at a party who relates every single detail of what happened to him throughout the day (I woke up at 6:58 a.m., brushed each of my teeth, had breakfast consisting of two thirds cereal and one third milk….). Who would not try to find an excuse to move to the other side of the room? Likewise, sometimes teachers will tell students to make sure that they use plenty of concrete details in their essays. Yes, concrete details are good to include and examine, but only if they matter. You risk boring your reader if you simply include details for their own sake without exploring what makes them important. When you read this section, keep in mind that you do not have to pay equal attention to all the kinds of details presented. Instead, focus on those that are most essential to your subject and purpose.

Events, Plots, and Actions

Usually the first detail we relate when someone asks us “what’s new?” is an important event or recent action we’ve taken in our life: “I ran a marathon on Sunday, found out I got into law school, got engaged to my girlfriend.” Events and actions also tend to be the first things we consider about our subjects. Sometimes actions are overt—we see a movie about a superhero who saves a city; sometimes they’re implied—we see a painting of a distraught face and we assume that something bad must have recently happened. Events and actions tend to consume the majority of our attention, whether they happen on a small scale to us individually or on a large scale to an entire city, country, or culture.

The subject that focuses the most closely on this type of detail is, of course, history. Certain events are so central to a particular era that they are studied again and again, often with different perspectives and conclusions. Take, for example, the big event of 1492. Up until I got to college, I was told that this was the year Columbus discovered America. Later I discovered that many historians disagree with this assessment of what happened. First of all, you can’t discover a place that has already been found, yet the fact that people were living in America already was always brushed aside in my high school history texts. Given that many Native Americans had more sophisticated forms of government and agriculture than their European counterparts makes this oversight seem particularly troubling. And even if we were to revise the assessment to state “Columbus was the first European to discover America,” that too would be wrong. New discoveries of Viking settlements in southern Canada and the northern United States suggest that they beat Columbus by several decades. Understanding the event in light of these facts may cause us to revise the assessment of the event to “Columbus introduced the Americas to the people of Europe,” or, less charitably, “Columbus opened up the Americas to modern European imperialism.”

This is not to say that we should now consider Columbus a nefarious figure (at least from the Native American’s point of view). He could not have anticipated the centuries of conquest that would follow his arrival. Often in history, people are caught up in forces they don’t completely understand. The same holds true when you examine the actions of fictional characters. For instance, sometimes characters create the condition for their own downfall, which inspires us to learn from their mistakes. Other times, characters may act nobly yet come to bad ends anyway. Such plots may encourage us to try to change the system that rewards bad behavior and punishes good, or they might leave us feeling frustrated with the seemingly random nature of our existence.

In the first ten minutes of Mike Judge’s film Office Space , all the actions solidify into a very definitive attitude about the problems with the modern workplace. Mike Judge, dir., Office Space (Twentieth Century Fox, 1999). Angry music plays as we see an above shot of a typical Southern California traffic jam. We now see it from the perspective of Peter Gibbons, one of the unfortunate drivers attempting to get through the jam. He moves a couple of feet, brakes; moves a couple of more feet, brakes. He tries to switch lanes, but whenever he does the one he just left begins to move and the one into which he moved comes to a grinding halt. All this time, an elderly man with a walker, who was once behind him on an adjacent sidewalk, has caught up and passed him. Peter responds with a momentary flare of anger that ends with a sigh of resignation. After the camera switches to a few of his colleagues stuck in the same jam, we see Peter arrive at his place of work, “Initech.” He sighs again with resignation as he gets the usual electrical shock from the brass doorknob that opens into a large room made up of a sea of office cubicles. Once again, the camera shot is from above, showing Peter lost among the crowd of workers.

Before he has a chance to get much work done, his boss comes by his cubicle to talk to him. He begins by asking Peter “how’s it going?” in a tone of voice that makes it clear that he doesn’t really care about the answer, and before Peter can respond the boss interrupts to chastise him for not using the correct cover sheet for the “TPS Report” he sent out the previous day. Two other bosses visit Peter repeating their predecessor’s instruction and tone. During all of this, Peter continues to reveal the same look and sigh of resignation, until finally he begs two of his friends to take a coffee break out of fear that he might “lose it.”

All of these actions inspire us to ask the question: Does it have to be this bad? I don’t think so. A more critical analysis could provide solutions to both the social and personal concerns touched on in the film. It could lead us to create much better systems of public transportation that get us to work in a more timely, less stressful manner. It could also lead bosses to discover better ways to encourage enthusiasm and dedication from their employees.

Understanding the implications of recent events and actions can be much more difficult than evaluating those that occur in the distant past or in fiction. At what point, for example, do the seemingly inappropriate actions of one country justify another to declare war on it? At what point do the actions of an individual justify another to call the police? Like everything else, most of this is a matter of interpretation, but success in professional settings often requires the ability to justify your point of view through a close reading of what actually occurred. Take for instance the proverbial story of a woman stealing a loaf of bread to feed her starving children. You could look at this action as extremely noble, as the mother puts herself in danger to keep her children healthy. The baker, however, may not share this sentiment, particularly if he too is struggling to survive.

Loaded Terms and Stock Phrases

Though actions may speak louder than words, words are what usually inspire the actions to occur in the first place. In addition, we often base what we know of the world on what people tell us rather than on our direct experiences. Thus, unless we are able to discern how language may be manipulated, we stand a good chance of being manipulated ourselves. For instance, consider how politicians often ignore their opponent’s actions and simply repeat loaded terms Words that imply strong, sweeping attitudes that are often used in place of more accurate descriptions, such as “bleeding heart liberal” or “heartless conservative.” , words infused with negative associations like “bleeding heart liberal” or “heartless conservative,” to characterize an opponent as being against the public good. I came across a particularly blatant example of this when writing my dissertation on the Red Scare in America that followed World War II. The Red Scare was a period when the fear of the spread of communism abroad inspired a great deal of domestic suspicion and conformity. In a series of pamphlets released by the House Committee on Un-American Activities (often referred to as HUAC), the members attempted to feed this fear in the manner in which they explained the nature of communism to the American public. The pamphlets were set up in a question/answer format, similar to the FAQ sections of websites today. Several of the answers attempted to show communism as a warped view from its inception by going after the man whom we often credit with inventing it: “What was Marx’s idea of a Communist World?” HUAC’s answer: “That the world as we know it must be destroyed—religion, family, laws, rights, everything. Anybody opposing was to be destroyed too.” U.S. Congresss, House, Committee on Un-American Activities, 100 Things You Should Know About Communism in the USA (80th Congress, 2d Session), 1. The repetition of “destroyed” clearly inspires a feeling of dread, and presents an overly simplistic, and nearly cartoonish duality: melodramatic socialist villains twirling their mustaches while planning the destruction of their own families versus the warm-hearted capitalistic politicians in Washington who are only out to serve the public’s best interests.

When loaded terms combine into stock phrases Sayings that people often repeat without fully considering their implications, such as “winning isn’t everything; it’s the only thing.” , aphorisms that people often repeat without fully considering their implications, you should be especially careful to look beyond the obvious meaning that’s usually attached to them. Take the phrase, often attributed to legendary football coach Vince Lombardi: “Winning isn’t everything; it’s the only thing.” First of all, does this mean that we can never engage in sports for fun, exercise, or friendship? On the contrary, in sports and in all of life, we often learn best from our mistakes and our failings. If we only play it safe and try to win all the time, then we don’t get to experiment and discover anything new. As Thomas Edison pointed out, he had to allow himself to fail over a thousand times when trying to invent the light bulb in order to discover the right way to do it. Clearly, winning isn’t the only thing, and I doubt that it should even be the most important thing, at least for most of us.

Be especially attentive when analyzing creative works to make note of any stock phrases or loaded terms the characters repeat, as it often reveals insights about how they see themselves and the world. In J.D. Salinger’s novel Catcher in the Rye, Holden Caulfield, the troubled teenage protagonist, has just been expelled from his high school and goes to see his old history teacher, Mr. Spencer in his home. After a polite exchange, Mr. Spencer asks Holden to repeat what Dr. Thurmer, the principal, said to him just before giving him the boot:

“What did Dr. Thurmer say to you, boy? I understand you had quite a little chat?…”

“Oh…well, about Life being a game and all. And how you should play it according to the rules. He was pretty nice about it. I mean he didn’t hit the ceiling or anything. He just kept talking about life being a game and all. You know.”

“Life is a game, boy. Life is a game that one plays according to the rules.”

“Yes, sir. I know it is. I know it.” J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye (Boston, MA: LB Books, 1951), 8.

Though Holden agrees with Mr. Spencer out of politeness, he goes on to narrate:

“Game, my ass. Some game. If you get on the side where all the hot-shots are, then it’s a game, all right—I’ll admit that. But if you get on the other side, where there aren’t any hot-shots, then what’s a game about it? Nothing. No game.”

What disturbs me even more about the phrase is that it leaves absolutely no room for creativity because nothing new can be brought into a world that has already been completed, making us all seem like those blue or pink pegs in the Milton/Bradley game Life , generic people with generic goals.

One reason that we often fall victim to erroneous conclusions is that every day we get bombarded with a form of media that pushes us to accept the most absurd phrases—advertising. Take for instance the slogan “things go better with Coke.” What “things”? If I drank a Coke while running a marathon, I might get sick. And some things that actually do go better with Coke, I could do without, such as tooth decay and weight gain. To be fair, the slogans of Coke’s chief competitor do not stand up to scrutiny either: “Pepsi, The Choice of a new generation.” Which generation? And how did they determine that it’s their choice? Often advertisers use ambiguous language like this in their slogans to deceive without lying outright. For instance, saying that a detergent helps to eliminate stains does not tell us that it actually will .

Arguments and Policies

When analyzing a more articulated argument or policy, we’re often tempted to use a phrase either to wholeheartedly agree with a position or to dismiss it entirely. But in doing so, a critical examination often gets lost in a barrage of name-calling and hyperbole. To try to understand the other side of an argument, I like to write an issue dialogue An imaginary dialogue between people representing opposing sides of an issue that moves toward more reasonable positions and characterizations of the opponent. , starting with the most extreme positions and moving toward more reasonable compromises. Consider, for instance, the debate that surrounds whether universities should continue to raise tuition in order to make up for government cut backs to education:

For: Universities should raise tuition. Why should taxpayers cover the expense? You students want to have a first rate education but you don’t want to pay for it. You’re just a bunch of lazy young people who feel entitled to every government handout you can get.

Against: Not true. Education is an investment. What you greedy old people don’t realize is that when a student eventually receives a better job because of his education, he will pay more in taxes. This increased revenue will more than repay the government for what it spent on his education.

For: That’s assuming that a student will get a better job because of his education; many people, like Bill Gates, have done pretty well without a degree. And even if you can prove that students will make more money, that doesn’t mean that they will remain in the community that invested in their education.

Against: True, but most probably will, and anyway, the university invests a lot of its money in these surrounding communities. As for your second point, for every Bill Gates, there are thousands of college dropouts who are flipping burgers or living on the streets.

For: But why should someone who doesn’t have children or live near a university town have to support an institution that doesn’t give anything back to them? Would you want to have to spend your hard earned money to support a senior center’s golf course?

Against: Studies have shown that when governments do not spend money on education, they have to spend more on prisons so it’s not as though cutting funding for education will benefit those taxpayers you describe. However, I agree that certain families should pay more for their children’s education, as long as they can afford it.

For: And I will concede that governments should continue to provide access to education for those who can’t afford it, but I think even children of poor families have an obligation to give back to the community that supported them when they finish their degrees.

Though this could continue for several more pages, you can see that both sides are starting to move toward more reasonable characterizations of each other. Again, when writing an issue dialogue, it is tempting to ridicule those on the other side with stock phrases to make it easier to dismiss their views (especially when looking at perspectives from different cultures and eras). But the more we can reasonably state the opposing view’s arguments, the more we can reasonably state our own, and we should apply the same amount of scrutiny to our own beliefs that we do to those who disagree with us.

Part of this scrutiny may involve raising questions about the author’s period, culture, and biases (see the previous chapter, regarding analysis of sources). In addition, you should consider the strength of the arguments, evaluating how well the author supports the main assertions with sound evidence and reasoning while paying particular attention to whether they rely on any fallacies Errors in reasoning, such as hasty generalizations (the weather’s cold outside; thus, global warming doesn’t exist) or faulty syllogisms (all cats die; Socrates is dead; therefore Socrates is a cat) —errors in reasoning. For instance, does the author make any hasty generalizations? Consider someone who attempts to argue that global warming doesn’t exist on the basis that the weather has been quite cold for the last few days. Obviously the person would make a stronger case for her argument by presenting more encompassing evidence. Another common fallacy is the faulty syllogism (i.e. all cats die; Socrates is dead; therefore Socrates was a cat). Just because two items under considerations have a certain quality in common, does not mean that these items are the same. Perhaps the most common fallacy that I see students make is “guilt by association.” This may be due to the fact that politicians use it all the time. For instance, in the 2008 presidential election, many tried to associate Barack Obama with terrorists simply because his middle name (Hussein) was the same as the deposed leader of Iraq. John McCain’s significant personal wealth was seen as evidence that he would be insensitive to the needs of the poor, even though liberals like Franklin Roosevelt and John Kennedy were also very well off. Also, be aware of the opposite fallacy—success by association. Go to any tennis shoe commercial on YouTube and you will see famous athletes performing incredible acts, as though the shoes, and not years of practice, are responsible for their success.

Metaphorical Language

Not all the details you analyze will suggest a literal action or point of view; many will be of a metaphorical, or symbolic, nature. Though there are many different types of tropes Words and phrases that point toward figurative meanings, such as the metaphor “love is a rose.” (words or phrases that point toward a figurative meaning)—such as metaphor, simile, and synecdoche. The basic function of each is to allow someone to literally “see what you mean” by comparing an abstract concept to something concrete. One reason the metaphor “love is a rose” is so well known is that the object and the concept match extremely well. A rose, like love, may manifest in many different forms and have several complex layers when examined closely. Roses show the cheerful side of love because they look nice, smell sweet, and inspire warm fuzzy feelings. However, they also show the dangers of love by having thorns, and being difficult to care for. Like the different people you love, a rose requires just the right amount of attention and care—neither too much nor too little.

The need to extend metaphorical implications is especially apparent when analyzing a poem or a song. For instance, in her song “China,” Tori Amos explores the different metaphorical significance the central term has on a crumbling relationship: a far away location that represents the distance couples often feel between each other, a place with a Great Wall that can refer to the figurative barriers we build to protect ourselves emotionally, and fancy plates that, on closer examination, have cracks (just like those who seem to have the perfect relationship and then suddenly announce that they are breaking up). Tori Amos, “China,” Little Earthquakes (Atlantic Records, 1992). In this case, understanding the metaphorical significance can give us an even greater appreciation of the song. When we say that a song (or any piece of art) “strikes a chord,” we mean that it resonates with our thoughts, feelings, and memories, and an understanding of its central metaphors allows us to relate to it in even more ways.

Metaphorical language does not come up only in the arts, but also in other disciplines, especially theology and philosophy. Nearly all religious texts are filled with parables and analogies because they provide us with concrete images to explain spiritual concepts. Perhaps the most famous analogy from antiquity is Plato’s “Allegory of the Cave,” in which Socrates compares human understanding to people locked in chairs and forced to look at the shadows of themselves, cast by the light of candles against a cave wall. In time, they confuse that reality for the true reality that lies above them. When one brave soul (read Socrates) escapes these confines and leaves the cave to discover the true reality, he returns to the people left behind to tell them of their limited existence. Instead of being grateful, they choose not to believe him and have him put to death because they prefer to accept the reality to which they’ve become accustomed.

While this analogy continues to be told in various forms, it still needs to be examined critically. For instance, you might ask who put them in the cave and why? Is our reality set up as a training ground to move on to more satisfying forms of existence, as proposed in the film The Matrix ? Or is it a cruel joke in which we’re allowed only a glimpse of the way things should be while wallowing in our own inability to effect change? In addition, many have argued that the analogy relies on a transcendent notion of Truth that cannot be communicated or realized—that Socrates believes that there is a greater place outside of our natural existence only because he has a vivid imagination or a need to prove his own importance. If this is true, then we might do better to improve the existence we actually experience than to stagnate while hoping for a better one.

But while poets, philosophers, and songwriters use metaphorical language to entertain and enlighten, many others use it primarily to manipulate—drawing off of the symbolic value of certain terms. Again, advertisers are masters of this, helping companies to embed their products with metaphorical significance, beginning with what they choose to call them. Car companies often use the names of swift predatory animals to associate their products with speed, control, and power. And advertisers love to use analogies because they don’t have to be proven. For example when stating that a product works “like magic,” they get all the associations with a mystical process that offers quick, painless solutions without having to demonstrate its actual effectiveness. Be particularly on guard for inappropriate analogies when analyzing arguments. For instance, people may attempt to justify violent acts to advance their version of the public good by using the analogy that “you have to break a few eggs to make a cake.” A person is far more valuable than an egg, and the analogy is simply inappropriate. The analogy would be far more appropriate and effective if used to justify how you might need to give up smoking or sleeping late in order to get back into shape.

Images, Sounds, Tastes, and Smells

Images, like words, are often imbued with metaphorical significance and thus can be manipulated in a similar manner. For instance, the politician who stands in front of a flag while giving a speech is attempting to feed off of the patriotic implications associated with it. Likewise, fast food companies often use images of clowns and cartoon figures to associate their products with the carefree days of childhood when we didn’t have to worry about gaining weight or having high cholesterol. But images we see in painting, sculpture, photography, and the other arts offer more subtle and variant interpretations and deserve more careful examination.

In fact, we can look at certain paintings more than a hundred times and continue to discern new patterns of meaning. For me, this is especially true of Van Gogh’s “The Starry Night.” In his song “Vincent,” singer-songwriter Don Mclean describes the painting as “swirling clouds in violet haze” that reflect the eyes of an artist who suffered for his sanity because the people around him could not understand or appreciate his vision. Don McClean, “Vincent,” American Pie (United Artists Records, 1971). Sometimes I see the painting this way, and other times I see it as a joyous dance of the stars moving in constant circles unencumbered by human misery (if you want to consider what the painting might mean to you, go to http://www.vangoghgallery.com/painting/starryindex.html) .

Music can also create feelings of triumph, joy, or despair without the need for any words to convey a direct message. Again, sometimes this can happen in a way that seems apparent and universal, (such as how the theme song from the film Star Wars evokes feelings of heroism, excitement, and adventure) or in ways that are more subtle and complex. Jerry Farber, Professor of Comparative Literature, explains that the aesthetic appeal of Mozart’s Violin Concerto in A Major emerges through the contrast among the various musical themes within it:

Now there are moments when many listeners, I think, are likely to get isolated in the music immediately at hand, losing much of their awareness of the whole structure. Particularly during one section, a so-called ‘Turkish’ episode in a different time signature and a minor key, the listener is likely, once having adjusted to this new and exotic atmosphere, to be swept far away from the courtly minuet. Still, the overall structure is the context in which we hear this episode and is likely, if only by effect of contrast, to help shape our resonant response. Jerry Farber, A Field Guide to the Aesthetic Experience (New York: Forwards, 1982), 106.

Which of these details you analyze depends on the unique features of the subject’s particular genre. For instance in analyzing both a poem and a song, you can consider the major metaphors, key terms, and actions. But with a song, you should also consider how it’s sung, which instruments are used, and how the music underscores or contrasts with the lyrics. Likewise, an analysis of both a painting and a film requires attention to the color, composition, and perspective of the scene. But with a film, you should also consider the dialogue, background music, and how each scene relates to the ones that come before and after it. Keep in mind that although different kinds of texts tend to stimulate particular types of responses, sometimes it is fruitful to think about pieces in light of seemingly incongruous perspectives. For instance, you could look at a love song as reflecting cultural attitudes about gender roles or a political speech as encouraging psychological disorders such as paranoia.

When your analysis focuses on personal experiences, decisions, and encounters, you can discuss those details that correspond with the other senses as well. In fact, taste and smell can play a crucial role in our experiences, as they have the strongest connection to memory. In Swann’s Way , the first part of his prolific novel In Search of Lost Time , French author Marcel Proust describes how dipping a pastry in tea helped him to recall a period of his life that he might have otherwise permanently forgotten. Though at first he couldn’t recall why the taste had such a powerful effect on him, he eventually remembered that it was something his grandmother gave him as a child when the family visited her in the summer. The taste helped him to recall not only his moments with his grandmother but the details of the house and town itself. As he puts it:

But when from a long-distant past nothing subsists, after the people are dead, after the things are broken and scattered, taste and smell alone, more fragile but more enduring, more unsubstantial, more persistent, more faithful, remain poised a long time, like souls, remembering, waiting, hoping, amid the ruins of all the rest; and bear unflinchingly, in the tiny and almost impalpable drop of their essence, the vast structure of recollection. Marcel Proust , Swann’s Way, trans. C.K. Scott Moncrieff and Terence Killmartin (New York: Random House, 1981), 50–51.

Though the personal experiences you write about do not have to be as significant to you as this was for Proust’s narrator, you still need to recall the details as best you can. When doing so, take a step back and try to look at yourself as you might a character in a novel. Detaching yourself like this can be very hard to do, especially when you have a vested interest in seeing yourself in a certain light. However, you often get your best insights when you try, to paraphrase the poet Robert Burns, to see yourself as others see you. To illustrate, I will show how I can both present and analyze a recent visit to my gym.

As I swiped my card at the entrance, the gentleman at the front desk greeted me with a friendly, “Hi Randy.” I felt the usual twang of guilt because I can never remember his name and have to respond with a generic and slightly overenthusiastic, “Hey, how’s it going?” Inside, the YMCA has its usual mix of old and young, most of whom are trying to get back into shape as opposed to other gyms where the main motivation for coming is to show off the body you already have.

I take a bitter sip from the rusty drinking fountain and head to the weight room where I see a young man completing his set on the first machine. He is definitely impressed with himself, periodically looking in the mirror with an expression that would make Narcissus ashamed. When he gets off, I wait until he turns around so he can see me move the key down to include more weight than he was just using. The satisfaction I get from this action comes partly from deflating some of his ego and partly from inflating my own. However, my own smugness is short-lived, because as soon as I get up, a much older man with a noticeable beer belly and smelling of Ben Gay sits at the machine and lowers the key much further than where I had it.

I go through my weight routine with a bit more humility and then wander over to the elliptical for the aerobic portion of my workout. I pull out my iPod and click to Credence Clearwater Revival, the only group with a happy enough sound to take my mind off my aching feet. After enough time, I leave the same way via the guy at the front desk (only now I return his, “Bye Randy,” with a generic and slightly over enthusiastic, “See you later; have a good day”).

Though there was no text to consult this time, I can still interpret the experience by recalling and focusing on the key details that make it up. I could discuss why I find it embarrassing to admit any personal weakness, whether it stems from my bad memory for trying to recall names or from my inability to lift as much weight as others. I could discuss the key in the weight machine metaphorically, and how I warped it in my mind from a simple tool to a larger symbol of competition. I could also discuss the effect of music and how it takes a lot of sting out of exercise by allowing me to focus on something other than the painful routine that stretches out before me. Finally, I could discuss how the rusty taste of the drinking fountain water or the smell of Ben Gay and sweat will always remind me of this particular gym.

When looking at a relationship or a decision, the analytical process is essentially the same as when you examine a specific event; you still need to consider, recall, and imagine various moments—just more of them. Whereas a relationship with another person is the sum total of all the time you’ve already spent with that person, making a decision involves imagining what might come about as a result of our choices. Oftentimes our analysis inspires thoughts that leap around in time as we reconsider past patterns to predict likely future events. For instance, if I were to analyze whether I should get a kitten, my mind may race through a string of potentially good and bad memories of having had cats in the past: images of soft, cuddly, purring little creatures that also like to destroy drapes and meow in my ear at five in the morning. Of course no matter how long and hard we think about something, we can never be sure that the outcome will work out for us in the way we hope and expect. Still, to be satisfied that we at least tried to make an informed, intelligent, and aware decision, we must slow down and reconsider all the relevant moments that we’ve already experienced.

Think of four concrete words, those which represent something we can see, touch, taste, or smell (for example, desk, willow, seaweed, or sidewalk), and four abstract words, those that represent concepts, feelings, or attitudes (for example, jealousy, freedom, fear, or arrogance), and then think of how each of your concrete words illustrate an aspect of your abstract ones. For instance, you might consider how fear is like a willow. Both may spread a lot of shade over our lives. At times fear may keep us in the dark, “rooted” like a willow from moving forward to places we need to go. However, at other times our fears may protect us from those dangers we are not yet ready to face.

Write an issue dialogue on a policy that is important to you. First freewrite on your own position, considering all of the places where you got your information from in the first place; then freewrite on the opposite point of view, again, considering all the places where you have heard these perspectives articulated. Write a dialogue in which you take both sides seriously by fully considering the merits of each argument. How did your own position change as you considered other points of view? What possible compromises did you come to?

Select something in your own life that is important to you at the moment. It could be the desire to recall a past experience, to reflect on an important relationship, or to analyze a decision that you must make. Now, take a moment to freewrite on all the significant details and factors that are involved. Reflect further on what you just wrote. To what extent do/did you have choices regarding the outcome? To what extent does/did it seem predetermined and by which people and what circumstances? What can you still learn or do about the situation to maximize its benefits? How can you better accept those aspects of it that are not likely to change?

Key Takeaways

• A close reading of a subject involves understanding the implications of the actions, terms, phrases, arguments, and images that make it up.
• Metaphorical language can help us to understand a concept further as we extend how something concrete compares to something abstract.
• An analysis of personal experiences, decisions, and relationships necessitates a certain level of detachment and a close reading of the relevant details.

3.2 From Interpretations to Assertions

• Reveal the kinds of assertions that block a successful analysis.
• Discuss how to produce meaningful assertions.
• Explain how to unite meaningful assertions into a working thesis.
• Show how to evaluate and modify a working thesis.

A close reading of the key details of a subject should help you to discover several intriguing interpretations about an array of different subjects: the consequences of an event, the motivations of a character, the effectiveness of an argument, or the nature of an image.

Interpretations

An assertion differs from an interpretation by providing perspective on an underlying pattern, a perspective that implies what it means to you and why you think it’s significant. Without such a perspective, an interpretation merely becomes a statement with no potential for development. Just as one might utter a statement that kills the mood of a particular situation (“What a romantic dinner you cooked for me! Too bad I’m allergic to lobster and chocolate…”), so one can make types of statements that block any possibility for further analysis. What follows are some of the most common:

1. Statements of Fact

Factual statements might help support an analysis but should not be the main force that drives it. I might notice that Vincent Van Gogh used twenty-five thousand brush strokes to create Starry Night , that global warming has increased more rapidly in the polar regions, or that Alfred Hitchcock used erratic background music throughout his film Psycho . But what else can I say about any of these statements? They simply are true or false. To transform these factual statements into assertions that can be explored further, you need to add your own perspectives to them. For instance, you could argue that the erratic music in Psycho underscores the insanity of the plot and results in a cinematic equivalent to Edgar Allen Poe’s frantic short sentences, or that global warming in the polar regions will result in higher sea levels that will cause enormous damage if we don’t do anything to keep it in check.

2. Statements of Classification

It is not enough to simply assert that the focus of your analysis fits into a pre-established category like “modernism,” “impressionism,” “neo-conservativism,” or “first wave feminism.” Of course it can be useful to understand the nature of these broader categories, but you still need to explore why it is important to see your subject in this light. For instance, rather than simply point out that Family Guy can be seen as a satire of the American family, you should also consider what this perspective reveals about the show’s development and reception. It might also be worthwhile to consider how a work transcends the standard notions of its period or genre. You might point out that while most of the time the Family Guy characters are show as broad and ridiculous, they can sometimes act in ways that are familiar and endearing. Similarly, when looking at a policy or argument, you should not simply categorize it as belonging to a particular social attitude or political party, but consider it on its own merits. Though political pundits often use terms associated with their opposition as curse words and summarily dismiss anything they advocate, you want to appear much more reasonable in an academic analysis.

3. Statements of Taste

Similarly, an analysis is not just a review in which you simply state how you feel about a piece or dismiss an argument or policy as being “distasteful.” A good assertion will not only reveal how you feel about the focus of your analysis but will also inspire you to explore why it makes you feel that way. In her article, “ Babe, Braveheart and the Contemporary Body,” Susan Bordo, Professor of Media Studies, explains that the reason she liked the film Babe much better is that it shows the need for self-acceptance and connection to others in a society that overly values conformity and competition. Susan Bordo, Twilight Zones: The Hidden Life of Cultural Images from Plato to O.J. (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press), 1999. This assertion allows her to explore different aspects of contemporary American culture that may have inspired each of these films. Had she simply stated her opinion without stating why her subject, the films, made her feel this way, her article would not have been as compelling or convincing.

4. Statements of Intention

When looking at creative works, we often want to assert that our point of view is the one the author intended, yet when we equate our perspective with the author’s, we (rather arrogantly) assume that we have solved the mystery of the piece, leaving us with nothing more to say about it. And even if we can quote the author as saying “I intended this,” we should not stop exploring our own interpretations of what the piece means to us. John Lennon tells us that his song “Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds” was written in response to a drawing given to him by his son, Julian. Others suspect that his real intention was to describe a drug trip brought about by LSD, the initial letters in the words of the title of the song. John Lennon and Paul McCartney, “Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds,” Seargent Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club B and (Apple Records, 1967). I have never seen his son’s drawing, and I don’t use psychedelic drugs, so neither interpretation means much to me. I love the song because it guides me through a kind of Alice in Wonderland fantasy of “looking glass ties” and “tangerine trees.” To be able to show why a given interpretation matters to us, we should not phrase our assertions as being about what we think the author intended but what it causes us to consider.

Likewise you should be careful to avoid simply stating that you know the “real intentions” behind a work of non-fiction, a social policy, or a particular action or decision. For example, consider if a business decides to move its operations overseas to save money. This may inspire some to say that the company’s real intention is to destroy the American economy or to exploit workers overseas, but it would sound far more persuasive and reasonable to actually show how these concerns could come about, even if they were never the stated intentions.

Worthwhile Assertions

In short, worthwhile assertions Statements that have potential for further development because they express points of view that move beyond fact, individual taste, classification, or intention. should reveal a perspective on your subject that provides possibilities for further exploration. Statements based on facts, classifications, opinions, and author intentions provide only inklings of perspectives and should be revised to inspire more prolific and meaningful analysis. Once you come up with some initial interpretations of your subject, reconsider it in light of what it means to you, perhaps by asking some or all of the following questions:

• What memories does it spark?
• How does it cause you to react emotionally and intellectually?
• What personal decisions/relationships does it cause you to ponder?
• What social, political, or intellectual concerns does it make you consider?
• How does it confirm or contradict your morals and beliefs?

Questions like these will help you to reflect on the subject further, enabling you to transform the aforementioned problematic statements into meaningful assertions. For instance, consider how the interpretation, “The CEO is moving his company’s operations overseas because he hates America and wants to exploit the workers of the third world” can be revised: “Though the CEO’s stated intention for moving the company’s operations overseas is to save money, the end result could be disastrous for both the local economy and the new country’s employees who will have to work under unsafe conditions.” Similarly, the statement “John Lennon’s real intention in writing ‘Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds’ is to promote the use of LSD” can be revised: “Whatever John Lennon’s real intention, I see ‘Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds’ as being about the power of the imagination to transcend the deadening routine of daily life.”

Once you have made several assertions like these, you can combine your favorite ones into a working thesis The initial (subject to change) argument or center of focus of an essay that may express a definitive point of view or an exploration of ambivalence. , your initial argument or center of focus for your essay. It’s called a “working” thesis because your point of view is likely to evolve the more you consider each aspect of your subject. Contrary to what you may have heard, the thesis does not have to be set in stone before you begin to write, guiding all the ideas that follow. When you revisit your responses, your point of view will evolve to become more precise, more thoughtful, and more sophisticated. For example, sometimes your thesis may start off as a brief and somewhat vague notion: “This ad manipulates through patriotic images of our country’s nature,” and later becomes more developed and clear: “Though this ad appeals to the patriotic spirit by showing images of our cherished countryside, it attempts to sell a product that will cause harm to the very environment it uses in the background for inspiration.” Each time you return to your thesis, you will think about it in a more nuanced manner, moving from the initial simplicity of a gut reaction to the complexity of a thoughtful and sophisticated response.

For this reason, you do not always need to state your thesis as a definitive argument that shows how you feel in no uncertain terms. Instead, it is often desirable to show your ambivalence about your position as long as you are clear about why you feel this way. For example, you might feel uncertain as to whether your school should build a new football stadium. Although you might think the money could be spent on more pressing educational needs, you might also want to have a more safe and comfortable place to watch the games. You can discuss the advantages and disadvantages of such a proposal, making it clear that you haven’t yet decided which side to support. Some of the most intriguing essays are exploratory, highlighting the mysteries of a subject, rather than persuasive, trying to convince us of a particular point of view.

While a thesis does not need to be limited in terms of argument, it should be limited in terms of scope. Perhaps the most common mistake I see students make is to choose a thesis that encompasses too many aspects of the subject. Remember that it is almost always better to write “a lot about a little” than “a little about a lot.” When you discuss too many aspects of your subject, it becomes difficult to provide any new perspectives. Challenge yourself to write about an aspect of your subject that may appear too small to inspire even a page response. Then think about the nature of your perspective a bit further, putting it to the following tests before you put too much more time into it.

1. The Evidence Test

Before engaging in further analysis, look again at your subject and ask yourself, “Is there really enough evidence here to support my point of view?” If I were to write about the film Office Space as showing just how much employees love to go to work in the Tech Industry, I might have a very difficult time finding enough scenes to match my perspective. You should also research the details surrounding your subject to see if your assertion needs to be modified, for instance by considering the historical circumstances that were in place at the time the event happened or the piece was created. One student, when writing about the speech from The Tempest , (quoted in Chapter 1), wrote that when Prospero’s actors disappear into “thin air,” they must have been projected on film with the camera suddenly switching off. Of course, Shakespeare could not have had that in mind given that he wrote three hundred years before we had the technology to carry this out. Still, one could argue that the scene might best be performed this way now. If a statement cannot be justified or at least modified to match the evidence, then you may have even more problems with the next category.

2. The Explanation Test

Oftentimes when there isn’t enough evidence to support a thesis, writers will be accused of stretching their explanations. I once heard a talk on how technicians assigned terms associated with women to parts of the computer to give themselves an illusion of control. Some of the assertions made sense—for instance that “mother” in motherboard shows how men may want to recall/dominate the nurturing figure of their childhoods. However, when the speaker pointed out that the “apple” in Apple Computers recalls the forbidden fruit that Eve handed to Adam, I started to squirm. The speaker even tried to argue that the name Macintosh was chosen because it’s a “tart” apple, and “tart” is a derogatory term that men use to refer to women of ill repute. Nonetheless, I would rather see a stretch than an analysis in which the explanation isn’t even necessary because the thesis is so obvious: “Othello reveals the destructive consequences of jealousy,” or “Beavis and Butthead’s stupidity often gets them into trouble.” Ideally, the assertion should require some explanation of the relevant details within or directly implied by the thesis. Remember that the goal is not to come up with an answer to the question “what’s THE meaning of the piece?” But rather to explore dimensions of the subject that do not have definitive answers, allowing us to consider our own subjectivities.

3. The Significance Test

You should also try to avoid wasting time on a thesis that does not have any significance by applying what many teachers call the “so what?” test. If your assertions do not lead to a deeper consideration of any of the questions for further thought raised earlier, then it probably will be boring for both you to write and for your audience to read. Oftentimes to make an assertion more interesting, we simply need to add more to it. For instance, I could argue that Peter feels beaten down by the soulless routine of his workplace throughout the film Office Space. But I need to remember that Peter is just a character in a film and cannot benefit from any of my conclusions. To make this more significant, I also need to consider how Peter represents the attitude of many contemporary workers and reveal the broader consequences of this attitude.

All of these considerations will help your thesis to become clearer, nuanced, and unique. In addition, it will allow your research questions (discussed in the previous chapter) to become more precise and fruitful as you compare and contrast your points of view with those of others. If there is one thing that I hope that I made clear throughout this chapter it is that the goal of a careful examination should not be to arrive at the same conclusions and have the same thoughts as everyone else. If we all came to the same conclusions when looking at a subject, then there would be no reason to write a new essay on it. I always tell my students that I know what I think and sometimes what most experts think when I look at a subject; I want you to tell me what you think instead of presenting opinions that have already been stated by someone else. Developing a perspective that is both unique and worthwhile takes time, and although carefully examining a piece may help you to form an initial understanding and lay the cornerstone for your analysis, you still need to build the rest of the essay. In the next chapter, we’ll look at ways to do this, first by helping you to explain more thoroughly how you arrived at your perspective and second by helping you to explore the significance of your perspective in a manner that moves beyond the most obvious lessons.

Look over the exercises you have completed so far in this chapter. Choose one and list the main assertions that you came up with on your subject. Cross out those that reveal only statements of fact, classification, taste, or intention and then consider what the remaining ones have in common. Try to construct a working thesis that presents a point of view that implies all of these perspectives. Put this working thesis to the evidence, explanation, and significance tests, and modify it accordingly. Remember the thesis does not have to be stated as a definitive argument but can reveal your ambivalence about your subject.

• Certain statements do not lead to productive essays, especially if they reveal only a fact, an individual taste, or a particular classification.
• The remaining worthwhile assertions should connect to each other through a working thesis or center of focus.
• This thesis may reveal a definitive perspective or an exploration of ambivalence, as long as it is justifiable, clear, and worthwhile (passes the evidence, explanation, and significance tests).

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An assertion is a speech act in which something is claimed to hold, for instance that there are infinitely many prime numbers , or, with respect to some time t , that there is a traffic congestion on Brooklyn Bridge at t , or, of some person x with respect to some time t , that x has a tooth ache at t . The concept of assertion has occupied a central place in the philosophy of language, since it is often thought that making assertions is the use of language most crucial to linguistic meaning. In recent years, by contrast, most of the interest in assertion has come from epistemology.

The nature of assertion and its relation to other categories and phenomena have been subject to much controversy. Some of the ideas of assertion will be presented below. The article will situate assertion within speech act theory and pragmatics more generally, and then go on to present the current main accounts of assertion. [ 1 ]

By an account of assertion is here meant a theory of what it consists in to make an assertion. According to such accounts, there are deep properties of assertion: specifying those properties is specifying what a speaker essentially does in making an assertion (e.g., express a belief ). There must also be surface properties, which are the properties by which we can tell whether an utterance is an assertion, for instance that it is made by means of uttering a sentence in the indicative mood. Some accounts specify deep properties only, while others relate deep properties to surface properties, as we shall see.

1. Speech acts

2.1 presupposition, 2.2 implicature, 2.3 indirect speech acts, 3.1 communicative intentions, 3.2 communicative commitments, 4. self-representation, 5.1 relation to truth, 5.2 models of communication, 6.1 conventions, 6.2 norms of assertion, other internet resources, related entries.

Gottlob Frege characterized the assertoric quality of an utterance as an assertoric force (“ behauptende Kraft ”; Frege 1918b: 22 ) of the utterance. This idea was later taken over by J.L. Austin ( 1962: 99–100 ), the founding father of the general theory of speech acts. Austin distinguished between several levels of speech act, including these: the locutionary act, the illocutionary act and the perlocutionary act. The locutionary act is the act of “ ‘saying something’ in the full normal sense” ( 1962: 94 ), which is the utterance of certain words with certain meanings in a certain grammatical construction, such as uttering ‘I like ice’ as a sentence of English.

The notion of an illocutionary act was introduced by Austin by means of examples (1962: 98–102) , and that is the normal procedure. Illocutionary acts are such acts as asserting, asking a question, warning, threatening, announcing a verdict or intention, making an appointment, giving an order, expressing a wish, making a request. An utterance of a sentence, i.e., a locutionary act, by means of which a question is asked is thus an utterance with interrogative force , and when an assertion is made the utterance has assertoric force (sometimes ‘assertive’ is used instead). Each type of illocutionary act is a type of utterance with the corresponding illocutionary force.

The perlocutionary act is made by means of an illocutionary act, and depends entirely on the hearer's reaction. For instance, by means of arguing the speaker may convince the hearer, and by means of warning the speaker may frighten the hearer. In these examples, convincing and frightening are perlocutionary acts.

The illocutionary act does not depend on the hearer's reaction to the utterance. Still, according to Austin (1962: 116–7) it does depend on the hearer's being aware of the utterance and understanding it in a certain way: I haven't warned someone unless he heard what I said. In this sense, the performance of an illocutionary act depends on the “securing of uptake” ( Austin 1962: 117 ). However, although Austin's view is intuitively plausible for speech acts verbs with speaker-hearer argument structure (like x congratulates y ) or speaker-hearer-content argument structure ( x requests of y that p ), it is less plausible when the structure is speaker-content ( x asks whether p ). The verb ‘assert’ is of the latter kind, as opposed to, for example, ‘tell’ . It may be said that I failed to tell him that the station was closed, since he had already left the room when I said so, but that I still asserted that it was closed, since I believed he was still there. As we shall see, several theories of assertion focus on hearer-directed beliefs and intentions of the speaker, without requiring that those beliefs are true or the intentions fulfilled.

Austin had earlier (1956) initiated the development of speech act taxonomy by means of the distinction between constative and performative utterances. Roughly, whereas in a constative utterance you report an already obtaining state of affairs—you say something—in a performative utterance you create something new: you do something ( Austin 1956: 235 ). Paradigm examples of performatives were utterances by means of which actions such as baptizing, congratulating and greeting are performed. Assertion, by contrast, is the paradigm of a constative utterance. However, when developing his general theory of speech acts, Austin abandoned the constative/performative distinction, the reason being that it is not so clear in what sense something is done , for instance by means of an optative utterance, whereas nothing is done by means of an assertoric one. Austin noted, for example, that assertions are subject both to infelicities and to various kinds of appraisal, just like performatives ( Austin 1962: 13–66 ). For instance, an assertion is insincere in case of lying as a promise is insincere when the appropriate intention is lacking ( Austin 1962: 40 ). This is an infelicity of the abuse kind. Also, an assertion is, according to Austin, void in case of a failed referential presupposition, such as in Russell's

• (1) The present King of France is bald. ( Austin 1962: 20 )

This is then an infelicity of the same kind— flaw-type misexecutions —as the use of the wrong formula in a legal procedure ( Austin 1962: 36 ), or of the same kind— misinvocations —as when the requirements of a naming procedure aren't met ( Austin 1962: 51 ), or again when I try to sell you something that isn't mine ( Austin 1962: 137 ).

Further, Austin noted that when it comes to appraisals, there is not a sharp difference between acts that are simply true and false, and acts that are assessed in other respects ( Austin 1962: 140–7 ). On the one hand, a warning can be objectively proper or improper, depending on the facts. On the other hand, assertions (statements) can be assessed as suitable in some contexts and not in others, and are not simply true or false. An example is

• (2) France is hexagonal. [ 2 ]

As an alternative, Austin suggested five classes of illocutionary types (or illocutionary verbs): verdictives , exercitives , commissives , behabitives and expositives ( Austin 1962: 151–64 ). You exemplify a verdictive, for example, when as a judge you pronounce a verdict; an exercitive by appointing, voting or advising; a commissive by promising, undertaking or declaring that you will do something; a behabitive by apologizing, criticizing, cursing or congratulating; an expositive by acts appropriately prefixed by phrases like ‘I reply’, ‘I argue’, ‘I concede’ etc., of a general expository nature.

In this classification, assertion would best be placed under expositives, since the prefix ‘I assert’ is or may be of an expository nature. However, an assertion need not in itself be expository. As a classification of illocutionary types Austin's taxonomy is thus not completely adequate.

Other taxonomies have been proposed, for instance by Stephen Schiffer (1972), John Searle (1975b), Kent Bach and Robert M. Harnish (1979), and Francois Recanati (1987). In Bach and Harnish's scheme, similar to Searle's, there are four top categories: constatives , directives (including questions and prohibitives ), commissives (promises, offers) and acknowledgments (apologize, condole, congratulate) ( 1979: 41 ). The category of constatives includes the subtypes, in Bach and Harnish's terms, of assertives , predictives , retrodictives , descriptives , ascriptives , informatives , confirmatives , concessives , retractives , assentives , dissentives , disputatives , responsives , suggestives and suppositives ( 1979: 41 ).

In this list, predictives are distinguished by concerning the future and retrodictives by concerning the past, dissentives by the fact that the speaker is disagreeing with what was earlier said by the hearer, and so on. Assertives, according to this taxonomy, is not distinguished from other constatives by any such feature. As Bach and Harnish point out ( 1979: 46 ), most of the specialized types of constatives satisfy the definition of assertives ( see section 3.1 ). This type then stands out as a higher category, including most but not all of the constatives; not for instance suggestives (suggesting, conjecturing) and suppositives (assuming, stipulating).

A leading idea in the taxonomies of Searle (1975a) and Recanati (1987) is to distinguish between between types according to direction of fit . Constative utterances have a word-world direction of fit (what is said is supposed to conform to what the world is like), while performative utterances have world-word direction of fit (the world is supposed to be changed to fit what is said). Again, assertion is the paradigmatic constative type, if not the constative type itself.

2. Pragmatics

Assertion is generally thought of being open, explicit and direct, as opposed for instance to implying something without explicitly saying it. In this respect, assertion is contrasted with presupposition and implicature . The contrast is, however, not altogether sharp, partly because of the idea of indirect speech acts, including indirect assertions.

A sentence such as

• (3) Kepler died in misery.

is not true unless the singular term ‘Kepler’ has reference. Still, Frege argued that a speaker asserting that Kepler died in misery, by means of (3) does not also assert that ‘Kepler’ has reference ( Frege 1892: 574 ). That Kepler had reference is not part of the sense of the sentence. Frege's reason was that if it had been, the sense of its negation

• (4) Kepler did not die in misery.

would have been that Kepler did not die in misery or ‘Kepler’ does not have reference , which is absurd. According to Frege, that ‘Kepler’ has reference is rather presupposed , both in an assertion of (3) and in an assertion of its negation.

The modern treatment of presupposition has followed Frege in treating survival under negation as the most important test for presupposition. That is, if it is implied that \(p\) , both in an assertion of a sentence \(s\) and in an assertion of the negation of \(s\) , then it is presupposed that \(p\) in those assertions (unless that \(p\) is entailed by all sentences). Other typical examples of presupposition ( Levinson 1983: 178–81 ) include

• (5) John managed [didn't manage] to stop in time.

implying that John tried to stop in time, and

• (6) Martha regrets [doesn't regret] drinking John’s home brew.

implying that Martha drank John's home brew.

In the case of (3), the presupposition is clearly of a semantic nature, since the sentence ‘Someone is identical with Kepler’, which is true just if ‘Kepler’ has reference, is a logical consequence both of (3) and of (4). By contrast, in the negated forms of (5) and (6), the presupposition can be cancelled by context (e.g., as in (7))

• (7) John didn't manage to stop in time. He didn't even try.

This indicates that in this case the presupposition is rather a pragmatic phenomenon; it is the speaker or speech act rather than the sentence or the proposition expressed that presupposes something. However, the issue of separating semantic from pragmatic aspects of presupposition is complex, and regarded differently in different approaches to presupposition (for an overview, see Simons 2006 ). [ 3 ]

In either case, presupposing should be kept distinct from asserting. One further reason is that the presupposition occurs in other illocutionary types as well. For instance, in asking

• (8) Did John [didn't John] manage to stop in time?

the speaker normally assumes that John tried and is only asking about the success. Still, it is not easy to distinguish assertion from presupposition in pure speech act terms. Typically, the distinction is based either on the meaning properties of the sentence used, or on properties of the conversational setting, that is on what is taken for granted (cf. section 5 , regarding Stalnaker's account).

For instance, by

• (9) We regret that the pool will be closed today.

a concierge may inform a group checking in to a hotel about the state of the pool. [ 4 ] Formally, in (9) it is presupposed rather than asserted that the pool will be closed, but the information is conveyed equally well by means of the presupposition as by means of a more direct assertion with

• (10) The pool will be closed today.

given that the guests did not already know that the pool would be closed, and given that the guests were able to compute the presupposition (both taken for granted by the concierge). By contrast, assuming that the concierge believes that a guest does know that the pool will be closed, (9) will not be used to convey information about the pool, only about the attitude of the staff, while a sincere utterance of (10) is an assertion that the pool will be closed, whatever is assumed about the hearer's prior knowledge. The contrast between (9) and (10) highlights a common intuition about a central feature of assertion: explicitness. On this intuition, only the content that is explicitly expressed is asserted, while further contents may be indirectly conveyed, relying on background knowledge and reasoning. This idea is controversial, however, and the opposite intuition is that indirect ways of conveying information can be assertoric in their own right. More on this theme below.

Frege noted ( 1879: 20 ) that there is no difference in truth conditional content between sentences such as

• (11) a. John works with real estate and likes fishing.
• b. John works with real estate but likes fishing.

‘And’ and ‘but’ contribute the same way to truth and falsity. However, when using (11b), but not when using (11a), the speaker indicates that there is a contrast of some kind between working with real estate and liking fishing. The speaker is not asserting that there is a contrast. For instance, forming a conditional with (11b) in the antecedent preserves the contrast rather than make it hypothetical:

• (12) If John works with real estate but likes fishing, I think we can bring him along.

It is usually said that the speaker in cases like (11b) and (12) implicates that there is a contrast. These are examples of implicature . H. Paul Grice ( 1975, 1989 ) developed a general theory of implicature. Grice called implicatures of the kind exemplified conventional , since it is a standing feature of the word ‘but’ to give rise to them.

Most of Grice's theory is concerned with the complementing kind, the conversational implicatures. These rely on general conversational maxims, not on features of expressions. These maxims are thought to be in force in ordinary conversation. For instance, the maxim Be orderly ! requires of the speaker to recount events in the order they took place. This is meant to account for the intuitive difference in content between

• (13) a. John took off his shoes and sat down.
• b. John sat down and took off his shoes.

According to Grice's account, the speaker doesn't assert, only implicates that the events took place in the order recounted. What is asserted is just that both events did take place.

Real or apparent violations of the maxims generate implicatures, on the assumption that the participants obey the over-arching Cooperative Principle. For instance, in the conversation

• (14) A: Where does John spend the summer?
• B: Somewhere in Canada.

B implicates that he doesn't know where in Canada John spends the summer. The reasoning is as follows: B violates the Maxim of Quantity to be as informative as required. Since B is assumed to be cooperative, we can infer that he cannot satisfy the Maxim of Quantity without violating some other maxim. The best candidate is the sub-maxim of the Maxim of Quality that requires you not to say anything for which you lack sufficient evidence. Hence, one can infer that B doesn't know. Again, B has not asserted that he doesn't know, but still managed to convey it in an indirect manner.

The picture is more complex because of a distinction Grice made within the domain of conversational implicatures, between particularized and generalized implicatures ( Grice 1975: 37–8 ). Generalized implicatures do not depend on contextual features, but are default inferences associated with ways of including or not including explicit information. One of Grice's own examples is

• (15) X is meeting a woman this evening. ( Grice 1975: 37 )

carrying the generalized implicature that the woman is not “ X 's wife, mother, sister or perhaps even close platonic friend”. [ 5 ]

The clear distinction between assertion and implicature, as Grice thought of it, is to some extent undermined by acknowledging indirect assertion as a kind of assertion proper. A standard example of an indirect speech act is given by

• (16) Can you pass the salt?

By means of uttering an interrogative sentence the speaker requests the addressee to pass the salt. The request is indirect. The question, literally concerning the addressee's ability, is direct. As defined by John Searle ( 1975b: 59–60 ), and also by Bach and Harnish ( 1979: 70 ), an indirect illocutionary act is subordinate to another, more primary act and depends on the success of the first. An alternative definition, given by Sadock ( 1974: 73 ), is that an act is indirect just if it has a different illocutionary force from the one standardly correlated with the sentence-type used.

Examples of indirect assertions by means of questions and commands/requests are given by

• (17) a. May I tell you that, obviously, the square root of a quarter is a half?
• b. Let me tell you that, obviously, the square root of a quarter is a half! ( Levinson 1983: 266 )

Rhetorical questions also have the force of assertions:

• (18) Is not Switzerland a peace-loving nation?

Another candidate type is irony:

• (19) Switzerland is known for its aggressive foreign policy.

assuming the speaker does mean the negation of what is literally said. However, although in a sense the act is indirect, since the speaker asserts something different from what she would do on a normal, direct use of the sentence, and relies on the hearer to realize this, it is not an indirect assertion by either definition. It isn't on the first, since the primary act (the literal assertion) isn't even made, and it isn't on the second, since there is no discrepancy between force and sentence type.

Irony does, however, qualify as indirect assertion on the definition given by Recanati ( 1987: 125 ). According to Recanati, an indirect speech act is a special kind of conversational implicature, where the speaker not only implicates some proposition \(p\) , but also intends to convey that \(p\) . In the case of (19), there is an apparent flagrant violation of the Quality principle to say only what is true. On the assumption that the speaker is cooperative, together with background knowledge of her political awareness, the hearer can infer that she does not mean what she literally says, but rather the opposite, that is, that what she wants to communicate is the negation of what she says. For Recanati, the communicative intention is what brings this act under the category of assertion proper ( see section 3.1 ).

Although Searle's definition of indirect speech acts is different, Searle too thinks that they work by means of an inferential mechanism, including that of conventional implicature. The hearer is supposed to understand that the speaker cannot merely be performing the primary act, since that would violate conversational principles, and then again conclude by conversational reasoning what other act has been performed.

The very idea of indirect speech acts is, however, controversial. It is not universally agreed that an ordinary utterance of (16) is indirect, since it has been denied (e.g., by Levinson 1983: 273–6 ) that a question has really been asked, over and above the request. Similarly, Levinson have questioned the idea of a standard correlation between force and sentence form, by which a request would count as indirect on Sadock's criterion.

The notion of an indirect assertion is controversial, and in need of further clarification. What is common to all ideas is that indirect assertions are not explicit: what is expressed, or literally said, is not the same as what is asserted. One question is whether an utterance is an assertion proper that \(p\) if that content is not exactly what is expressed, or whether it is an act of a related kind, perhaps an implicature. Another question is how far an utterance may deviate from explicitness and yet be counted as an assertion, proper or indirect. This question comes up in discussion of proposed counterexamples to certain theories (cf. sentence (21) in subsection 3.2 ). [ 6 ]

3. Social character

Many accounts of assertion emphasize, one way or another, its social character . Some do it from a normative, and some from a descriptive, perspective. In this section and the next, we shall focus on the descriptive versions. These fall into two broad types: the communicative intentions type and what we shall here call the commitment type. According to the former, it is the intentions a speaker has with respect to the mind of the hearer that constitutes assertion, while according to the latter, assertion is constituted by the change of the social relation between speaker and addressee that the utterance brings about.

By an utterance we shall here understand any physical item, event or state of affairs by means of which a speaker communicates. This may be an oral utterance (vocalizing), a physical gesture or sequence of gestures (as in sign languages), an inscription (analogue or digital), or the intentional creation or preservation of some state of affairs (e.g., a configuration of objects). A hearer is someone who observes the utterance and who can understand its communicative significance (exactly what this modal qualification amounts to will not be an issue here). We will need to distinguish between being an addressee, that is the intended receiver of an utterance, and being an actual hearer. There may be other hearers of the utterance than the addressee, some known by the speaker to be hearers (as when speaking to one member of a group of people) and perhaps some unknown (e.g., eaves-droppers). It may also be that the addressee is in fact not a hearer (i.e., does not in fact notice the utterance), only intended to be so by the speaker. We shall first be concerned with the intentions variety.

Typically, the speaker who makes an assertion has addressee-directed intentions in performing a speech act. The speaker may intend the hearer to come to believe something or other about the speaker, or about something else, or intend the hearer to come to desire or intend to do something. Such intentions can concern institutional changes, but need not. Intentions that are immediately concerned with communication itself, as opposed to ulterior goals, are called communicative intentions .

The idea of communicative intentions derives from Grice's (1957) article ‘Meaning’ , where Grice defined what it is for a speaker to non-naturally mean something. Grice's idea can be set out as follows:

S non-naturally means something by an utterance \(u\) if, and only if, there is a hearer \(H\) such that i) \(S\) intends u to bring about a response \(R\) in \(H\) , and ii) \(S\) intends \(H\) to recognize that (i), and iii) \(S\) intends at least part of \(H\) ’s reason for \(R\) to be that (i).

(cf. Strawson (1964: 28) ; here ‘that (i)’ is short for ‘that S intends \(u\) to bring about a response R in H ’ ). That is, the speaker intends the hearer to react in a certain way because of recognizing that the speaker wants him to react in that way. Often, for instance in Grice's original examples, the intended reaction is one of coming to believe something, and that is a reaction that typically fits the speaker's intention or at least desire when making an assertion. Although Grice did not explicitly attempt to define assertion, the idea can be straightforwardly applied to provide one:

• (Gr-A) S asserts that p by the utterance u iff there is a hearer H such that
• i. S intends u to produce in H the belief that p
• ii. S intends H to recognize that i)
• iii. S intends H to believe that p at least partly for the reason that i)

In the early to mid 1960s Austin's speech act theory and Grice's account of communicative intentions began to merge. The connection is discussed in Strawson 1964 . Strawson inquired whether illocutionary force could be made overt by means of communicative intentions. He concluded that when it comes to highly conventionalized utterances, communicative intentions are largely irrelevant, but that on the other hand, convention does not play much role for ordinary illocutionary types. Strawson also pointed out a difficulty with Grice's analysis: it may be the case that all three conditions are fulfilled, but that the speaker intends the hearer to believe that they aren't, for instance by intending the hearer to believe that the speaker wants him to believe that \(p\) for an entirely different reason.

Such intentions to mislead came to be called sneaky intentions ( Grice 1969 ), and they constituted a problem for speech act analyses based on communicative intentions. The idea was that genuine communication is essentially open: the speaker's communicative intentions are meant to be fully accessible to the hearer. Sneaky intentions violate this requirement of openness, and therefore apparently they must be ruled out one way or another. Strawson's own solution was to add a fourth clause about the speaker's intention that the hearer recognize the third intention. However, that solution only invited a sneaky intention one level up (cf. Schiffer 1972: 17–42 ).

Another solution was to make the intention reflexive . This was proposed by Searle ( 1969 ), in the first full-blown analysis of illocutionary types made by appeal to communicative intentions. Searle combined this with an appeal to social institutions as created by rules. We return to these in the following subsection.

Searle criticized Grice for requiring the speaker to intend perlocutionary effects, such as what the speaker shall come to do or believe, pointing out that such intentions aren't essential ( 1969: 46–7 ). Instead, according to Searle, the speaker intends to be understood , and also intends to achieve this by means of the hearer's recognition of this very intention itself. Moreover, if the intention is recognized, it is also fulfilled: ‘we achieve what we try to do by getting our audience to recognize what we try to do’ ( Searle 1969: 47 ). This reflexive intention is formally spelled out as follows:

• (Srl-I) S utters sentence T and means it (i.e., means literally what he says) = S utters T and
• a) S intends (i-1) the utterance U of T to produce in H the knowledge (recognition, awareness) that the states of affairs specified by (certain of) the rules of T obtain. (Call this the illocutionary effect, IE)
• b) S intends U to produce IE by means of the recognition of i-1
• c) S intends that i-1 will be recognized in virtue of (by means of) H 's knowledge of (certain of) the rules governing (the elements of) T . (Searle 1969: 49–50)

The illocutionary effect IE is the effect of generating the state specified in the constitutive rule. In the case of assertion, the speaker intends that her utterance counts as an undertaking that p represents an actual state of affairs, depending on the constitutive rule (see next subsection).

Bach and Harnish follow Searle in appealing to reflexive communicative intentions. On their analysis ( Bach & Harnish 1979: 42 ), assuming a speaker S and a hearer H ,

• (BH-A) S asserts that p iff S expresses
• i) the belief that p , and
• ii) the intention that H believe that p .

According to Bach and Harnish's understanding, a speaker S expresses an attitude just in case S R -intends (reflexively intends) the hearer to take S 's utterance as reason to think S has that attitude. They understand the reflexive nature of the intention pretty much like Searle. They say ( 1979: 15 ) that the intended effect of an act of communication is not just any effect produced by means of recognition of the intention to produce a certain effect, it is the recognition of that intention .

These appeals to reflexive intentions were later criticized, in particular by Sperber and Wilson ( 1986: 256–7 ). Their point is that if an intention I has as sub-intentions both the intention J and the intention that the hearer recognize I , this will yield an infinitely long sequence: the intention that: J and the hearer recognize the intention that: J and the hearer recognize the intention that: J and …). If this is an intention content at all, it is not humanly graspable.

Another variant of the communicative intention analysis is Recanati's. Part of Recanati's solution to the sneaky intention problem, following Grice ( 1969 ), consists in simply demanding that sneaky intentions be absent. This is what it is for an intention to be open , or default-reflexive ( Recanati 1987: 191–207 ). He also follows Sperber and Wilson's idea of making something manifest , i.e., perceptible or inferable ( 1987: 120, 180 ; Sperber & Wilson 1986: 38 ). Putting the various ingredients together (including prototypicality conditions of assertion— Recanati 1987: 183 ), we get:

• (Re-A) To assert that p is to make an utterance u by which it is made manifest that the speaker has an open (default-reflexive) intention that
• (a) u gives the audience reason to believe that the speaker knows that p and wishes to share that knowledge with the audience, and
• (b) the audience recognize (a), and recognize it as open.

This is another complex analysis. The complexity of these accounts is itself a problem, since it assumed that ordinary speakers are in the habit of making assertions, and thereby to have the required intentions for doing it. But since it requires detailed analytic work to come up with the accounts, and there even are competing accounts, it is unlikely that ordinary speakers have the intentions required. If they do, they are clearly not aware of having them as agents usually are aware of their intentions. Postulating such intentions in ordinary speakers is clearly problematic.

The difficulty is made more severe, because there are speakers with a demonstrated inability to understand belief and other cognitive attitudes. Some speakers with autism, who are clearly by everyday standards using language for making assertions, fail so-called false-belief tests. Thereby they reveal an inability to distinguish between a proposition being believed and being true, and hence (since they do distinguish between truth and falsity), reveal a lack of understanding of what it is to believe something. If you cannot understand what it is to believe something, you cannot intend someone to believe something either (cf. Glüer & Pagin 2003 ). All in all, the complexity and sophistication required of asserters by these communication-intentions accounts, gives a reason to suspect that they do not provide necessary conditions for making assertions.

Normative and commitment accounts of assertion do not seem in general to suffer from these problems.

The other aspect of the social character of assertion concerns what the speaker does by means of making an assertion. The idea is often stated in terms of making a commitment/undertaking , or taking responsibility . This was emphasized by C.S. Peirce:

What is the nature of assertion? We have no magnifying-glass that can enlarge its features, and render them more discernible; but in default of such an instrument we can select for examination a very formal assertion, the features of which have purposely been rendered very prominent, in order to emphasize its solemnity. […] This ingredient, the assuming of responsibility, which is so prominent in solemn assertion, must be present in every genuine assertion. For clearly, every assertion involves an effort to make the intended interpreter believe what is asserted, to which end a reason for believing it must be furnished. But if a lie would not endanger the esteem in which the utterer was held, nor otherwise be apt to entail such real effects as he would avoid, the interpreter would have no reason to believe the assertion. ( Peirce 1934: 547 )

We can distinguish three ideas in the quote from Peirce, and add a fourth that has been proposed by later authors. Firstly , as a matter of socio-linguistic observation, speakers in fact in some sense take responsibility for, or commit themselves to, being right in what they say. The speaker puts her cognitive authority behind it, so to speak, and has to suffer some measure of social humiliation if what she says turns out false. This idea of commitment can also serve to distinguish between assertion proper and weaker constative forms, such as guesses and conjectures, since these differ from assertion with respect to commitment.

Secondly , there is the further idea that the commitment is made to the addressee or the hearers in general. The speaker who makes an incorrect assertion opens himself to criticism by his addressee, perhaps for misleading him, in a way similar to a subject who fails to live up to a promise. In this respect, the social relation between speaker and addressee has changed because of the assertion. Typically, the addressee will hold the speaker accountable for the correctness of the assertion, and the speaker accept to be held so accountable. This is again a socio-linguistic observation: it does not follow that the speaker actually is accountable.

Thirdly , Peirce has the idea that it is the responsibility-taking that gives the addressee the reason to believe what is asserted. It is unclear whether Peirce speaks of reasons in the descriptive sense (a person's actual reason, good or bad) or in the normative sense (a good reason, actual or not). It is again probably socio-linguistically true that hearers are more prone to believe the speaker when they perceive him as sincere , thereby as taking responsibility. However, a speaker may be sincere but unreliable (prone to error) and also reliable but insincere (for instance, conveying messages without caring about their accuracy). As regards having a good reason, it seems that the reliability of the speaker is the crucial factor, not sincerity (but see Moran 2005 for the opposite view).

Fourthly , we might take the commitment idea to be what essentially characterizes assertion: on this idea, asserting that \(p\) consists in committing oneself to the truth of \(p\) . This is the leading idea of commitment accounts of assertion. [ 7 ]

Commitment-making is a central idea in Searle's ( 1969 ) account. In Searle's view, there are five rules for the use of force indicating devices, that is, devices that exhibit the utterance as having a particular force. In the case of assertion, they are as follows. Here S is the speaker and H the hearer:

• (Srl-A) 1. The propositional content rule: what is to be expressed is any proposition p .
• 2. First preparatory rule: S has evidence (reasons etc.) for the truth of p .
• 3. Second preparatory rule: It is not obvious to both S and H that H knows (does not need to be reminded of, etc.) p .
• 4. Sincerity rule: S believes p .
• 5. Constitutive rule: Counts as an undertaking to the effect that p represents an actual state of affairs.

The fifth rule is the crucial one, and it is held to be constitutive of assertion. Constitutive rules are contrasted with regulative rules rules (the terminology is taken from Kant). Roughly, whereas regulative rules regulate a pre-existing activity, such as traffic regulations regulate traffic, constitutive rules in a sense create a new activity. Paradigm examples are rules of games, taken as defining the games, and thus making it possible to play them. The distinction was introduced by Rawls ( 1955 ), and also suggested by C.G.B. Midgley ( 1959 ), in the same terms and format as later by Searle ( 1969: 33–42 ; cf. Glüer & Pagin 1999 ).

That is, according to Searle, without rule 5, the practice of assertion would not exist. Once the rule is in force, an utterance with the relevant assertion-indicating device creates the undertaking, and thereby also the assertion itself. According to Searle ( 1969: 65) , the speaker expresses the state required by the sincerity rule, i.e., in the case of assertion, expresses a belief. Also, the speaker implies that the preparatory conditions are met.

The analysis is completed by first requiring that normal input and output conditions obtain, second that the conditions of Rules 1–4 are met, and finally that the semantical rules of the dialect spoken by S and H are such that T is correctly and sincerely uttered if and only if the aforementioned conditions are met. Searle's account is thus a complicated combination of appeals to linguistic conventions, social relations, and reflexive communicative intentions (see previous subsection).

Later social accounts have tended to focus either on the conventional/institutional or on the intentional features. An example is Kotatko ( 1998: 236–9 ), who like Searle stresses the importance of social conventions about what counts as making a commitment or undertaking. Another example is Alston (2000: 120) :

• (Als-A) U asserted that p in uttering S iff
• 1. U R 'd that p
• 2. S explicitly presents the proposition that p , or S is uttered as elliptical for a sentence that explicitly presents the proposition that p .

Here the locution “ \(R\) 'd that \(p\) ” is short for “ \(U\) took responsibility for its being the case that \(p\) ” ( 2000: 7 ).

There is in such accounts a question of what it exactly consists in to make a commitment or undertaking to the truth of a proposition. One elaboration of this idea is provided by Brandom ( 1994 ). According to Brandom ( 1994: 173–5 ), the nature of assertion consists in the fact that in asserting, the speaker achieves two different social results at the same time: on the one hand she authorizes the hearer to claim anything that follows from what is asserted and on the other she undertakes the responsibility of justifying it.

Another suggestion is given in MacFarlane (2005) :

• (MF1-A) (W*) In asserting that p at \(C_{1}\), one commits oneself to withdrawing the assertion (in any future context \(C_{2}\)) if p is shown to be untrue relative to context of use \(C_{1}\) and context of assessment \(C_{2}\).

This is the idea that assertion is partly characterized by a commitment to take back, withdraw , or (in later writings) retract , the assertion in later adverse contexts. MacFarlane's framework is relativist , with the idea that the truth of a sentence, as well as the evaluation of an assertion, for some particular kinds of sentences (e.g., concerning future contingents) must be judged with respect to both the original context of use, and a separate independent context of assessment (e.g., by an assessor at a future time). As we shall see, later MacFarlane restates the idea in terms of norms of assertion, but then too, the idea of retraction of an assertion is central.

It may be noted here that Dummett in passing expresses a related idea in saying that “an assertion is a kind of gamble that the speaker will not be proved wrong” ( Dummett 1976: 84 ). Should it turn out that the speaker was wrong, he “may subsequently be compelled to withdraw it as incorrect” ( Dummett 1991: 165 ).

Both Searle and Brandom took an analysis of promising as the role model for analysing assertion. There are clear similarities. For instance, by means of a sincere utterance of

• (20) I promise to call the repair shop

the speaker has committed herself, in relation to the addressee, to do something. Both speaker and hearer will regard the speaker as having incurred an obligation to the addressee. The relation between asserting and promising is discussed in detail in Watson 2004 . Watson elaborates on the similarities in commitments made with assertions and with promises: both involve a secondary commitment of what to do in case things go wrong ( 2004: 67 ). But he also emphasizes the basic difference: that in the case of assertion, but not in the case of promises, the commitment is to something that is independent of the speaker. According to Watson, this is not the truth of what is asserted, but its defensibility ( 2004: 68 ). A consequence of this is that the speaker is obliged to to defend the assertion if challenged ( 2004: 70 ).

Sandy Goldberg ( 2013 ) has recently drawn attention to the phenomenon of anonymous assertion , which is exemplified in particular in anonymous posts in comment threads or discussion forums on the Internet. He remarks that in such circumstances, hearers cannot hold speakers responsible for their utterances, and have no means of assessing the epistemic credentials of the speakers, which leaves them without warrant to trust the speakers, and speakers know this. As a result,

when it is mutually known by all parties that a claim was made under conditions of anonymity, this has a diminishing affect on the sort of (assertion-generated) expectations that speakers and hearers are entitled to have of one another. ( 2013: 135 )

The question is how much of the commitment remains. If utterances in these circumstances are still recognizably assertions, there seem to be assertions without, or with hardly any, speaker commitments. Although this is not an issue raised by Goldberg, it seems hard for a commitment account to accommodate.

Suppose, nonetheless, that it is true that in general (or perhaps even always), that speakers do make commitments when asserting. Suppose, similarly, that in general, or perhaps always, speakers do have communicative intentions of some kind when asserting. Would either assumption directly provide an account of assertion in these terms? The answer is no, for the assumptions are only that committing oneself, or having certain communicative intentions, is a necessary condition for making an assertion. It is a further step to infer that the respective conditions are sufficient as well, that is, that there are no other ways of expressing the relevant commitments or communicative intentions that are not assertions.

Are there other ways? It is argued in Pagin (2004) that there are, since one can use the very statement of a social character account itself to construct an utterance type that isn't assertoric, but that would be assertoric by the account in question. A simple example is given by

• (21) I hereby commit myself to the truth of the proposition that there are black swans.

Intuitively, a sincere utterance of (21) would not be an assertion that there are black swans. What is said does not entail that there are black swans. It seems to be no more than a declaration of the speaker's stand on the issue, and that declaration may be accurate even if there are no black swans. Still, it does incur a commitment to the truth of the proposition that there are black swans. If this is right, then incurring a commitment to truth is not sufficient for asserting. Similar constructions can be made out of other accounts, for instance by letting the speaker declare herself to have certain complex intentions.

Pagin's arguments have been criticized. For instance, Pegan (2009) argues, among other things, that the proposed counterexamples can be blocked by carefully amending the theory (cf. Pagin (2009) for a reply). Both MacFarlane (2011) and García-Carpintero (2013) argue that we should distinguish between what is said and what is asserted, and that this allows us to maintain that an indirect assertion that swans are black are made by means of directly saying that the speaker commits himself. According to both, Pagin's attempt to block the indirect assertion route fails.

According to Frege ( 1918a: 22 ), an assertion is an outward sign of a judgment ( Urteil ). The term ‘judgment’ has been used in several ways. If it is used to mean either belief , or act by which a belief is formed or reinforced , then Frege's view is pretty close to the view that assertion is the expression of belief .

How should one understand the idea of expressing here? It is natural to think of a belief state, that is, a mental state of the speaker, as causally co-responsible for the making of the assertion. The speaker has a belief and wants to communicate it, which motivates an assertoric utterance. But what about the cases when the speaker does not believe what he asserts? Can we still say, even of insincere assertions, that they express belief? If so, in what sense?

Within the communicative intentions tradition, Bach and Harnish have emphasized that an assertion gives the hearer evidence for the corresponding belief, and that what is common to the sincere and insincere case is the intention of providing such evidence:

For S to express an attitude is for S to R -intend the hearer to take S 's utterance as reason to think S has that attitude. ( Bach & Harnish 1979: 15) , italics in the original)

(‘ R -intend’ is, as above, short for ‘reflexively intend’). On this view, expressing is wholly a matter of hearer-directed intentions.

This proposal has the advantage of covering both the sincere and the insincere case, but has the drawback of requiring a high level of sophistication. By contrast, Bernard Williams ( 2002: 74 ) has claimed that a sincere assertion is simply the direct expression of belief, in a more primitive way. Insincere assertions are different. According to Williams ( 2002: 74 ), in an assertion, the speaker either gives a direct expression of belief, or he intends the addressee to “take it” that he has the belief (cf. Owens 2006 ).

Presumably, the intention mentioned is an intention about what the addressee is to believe about the speaker. In this case the objection that too much sophistication is required is less pressing, since it only concerns insincere assertions. However, Williams's idea (as in Grice 1969 ) has the opposite defect of not taking more sophistication into account. The idea that the alternative to sincerity is the intention to make the addressee believe that the speaker believes what he asserts, is not general enough. An insincere speaker \(S\) who asserts that \(p\) may know that the addressee \(A\) knows that \(S\) does not believe that \(p\) , but may still intend to make \(A\) believe that \(S\) does not know about \(A\) 's knowledge, precisely by making the assertion that \(p\) . There is no definitive upper limit to the sophistication of the deceiving speaker's calculations (cf. Pagin 2011: Section 7 ). In addition, the speaker may simply be stonewalling, reiterating an assertion without any hope of convincing the addressee of anything.

A more neutral way of trying to capture the relation between assertion and believing was suggested both by Max Black ( 1952 ) and by Davidson ( 1984a: 268 ): in asserting that p the speaker represents herself as believing that p . This suggestion appears to avoid the difficulties with the appeal to hearer-directed intentions.

A somewhat related approach is taken by Mitchell Green (2007) , who appeals to “expressive conventions”. Grammatical moods can have such conventions (2007: 150) . According to Green ( 2007: 160 ), an assertion that \(p\) invokes a set of conventions according to which the speaker “can be represented as bearing the belief-relation to \(p\) ”.

As one represent oneself as believing, one can also represent oneself as knowing. Inspired by Davidson's proposal, Peter Unger ( 1975: 253–70 ) and Michael Slote ( 1979: 185 ) made the stronger claim that in asserting that p the speaker represents herself as knowing that p . To a small extent this idea had been anticipated by G.E. Moore when claiming that the speaker implies that she knows that p ( 1966: 63 ).

However, it is not so clear what representing oneself amounts to. It must be a sense different from that in which one represents the world as having certain features. The speaker who asserts

• (22) There are black swans.

does not also claim that she believes that there are black swans. It must apparently be some weaker sense of ‘represent’, since it is not just a matter of being, as opposed to not being, fully explicit. By means of answering the question what I believe with an utterance of (22) I do represent myself as believing that there are black swans, equivalently with asserting it. What I assert then is wrong if I don't have the belief, despite the existence of black swans.

On the other hand, it must also be stronger than the sense of ‘represent’ by which an actor can be said to represent himself as believing something on stage. The actor says

• (23) I’m in the biology department.

thereby representing himself as asserting that he is in the biology department, since he represents himself as being a man who honestly asserts that he is in the biology department. By means of that, he in one sense represents himself as believing that he is in the biology department. But the audience is no way invited to believe that the speaker, that is, the actor, has that belief.

Apparently, the relevant sense of ‘represent’ is not easy to specify. That it nevertheless tracks a real phenomenon is often claimed to be shown by Moore's Paradox. This is the paradox that assertoric utterances of sentences such as

• (24) It is raining but I don’t believe that it is raining.

(the omissive type of Moorean sentences) are distinctly odd, and even prima facie self-defeating, despite the fact that they may well be true. Among the different types of account of Moore's Paradox, Moore's own emphasizes the connection between asserting and believing. Moore's idea ( 1944: 175–6 ; 1966: 63 ) was that the speaker in some sense implies that she believes what she asserts. So by asserting (24) the speaker induces a contradiction between what she asserts and what she implies. This contradiction is then supposed to explain the oddity.

An analogous move has been made as regards knowledge-varieties of Moorean sentences, such as

• (25) It is raining, but I don't know that it is raining.

Clearly, utterances of sentences like (25) are bad, and some think that they are as bad as the paradigmatic Moorean sentences like (24). It is then argued that their badness show that a speaker who asserts that \(p\) also represents himself as knowing that \(p\) (cf. Unger 1975: 256–60 ; Slote 1979: 179 , and Williamson 2000: 253–5 with application to the knowledge norm).

Linguistic arguments of this kind in general, explicitly or implicitly, have the form of an inference to the best explanation. As such, they are problematic, since there are competing explanations of the badness of Moorean utterances. We return to this topic at end of subsection 6.2 .

A definition proposed by Dummett ( 1981: 300 ) may be seen as a way of cashing in the talk of self-representation:

• (D-A) A man makes an assertion if he says something in such a manner as deliberately to convey the impression of saying it with the overriding intention of saying something true.

Dummett's proposal is presumably intended to give necessary as well as sufficient conditions, but there are problems with both. With the necessary conditions because of the possibility of direct expressions of belief, as urged by Williams, and with sufficiency for reasons of the same kind as discussed at the end of the previous section: a speaker may try to convey the Dummett-type impression in deviant ways.

5. Cognition

Communicative intentions accounts, commitment accounts, and self-representation accounts are all descriptive: they say nothing about what ought to be done, about the existence of norms, or about the propriety/correctness of assertions. However, except for the idea that a sincere assertion is the expression of a belief that a speaker actually has, none of these types of account focuses on the cognitive features of representing the world and judging the representation to be true as a main characteristic. A few more cognitively oriented accounts do that.

As noted above, Frege held ( 1918a: 22 ) that an assertion is an outward sign of a judgment ( Urteil ). A judgment in turn, in Frege's view, is a step from a Thought , that is, a representational content, to the acknowledgment of its truth ( Frege 1892: 34 ; translation in Frege 1960: 64 , with ‘admission’ instead of ‘acknowledgment’ for ‘ Anerkennung ’ ). Since for Frege, the truth value is the Reference ( Bedeutung ) of a sentence, a judgment is an advance from Sense to Reference. In case the subject makes a mistake, it is not the actual Reference, but anyway the Reference the subject takes it to have.

We can transform Frege's view slightly, in the following way: in judging that \(p\) , the subject advances from the content that \(p\) to the relevant point of evaluation , with respect to which this content is either true or false. Frege countenanced exactly one point of evaluation: the World. In a sense, judging is applying a content to the World.

In this form, the idea generalizes. If contents are possible-worlds propositions, the points of evaluation are possible worlds. All actual judgments are then applications of propositions to the actual world . If contents are temporal propositions, true or false with respect to world-time pairs, then all actual judgments are applications to the ordered pair of the actual world and a relevant time, usually the time at which the judgment is made. This is the point with respect to which a sentence, used in a context of utterance, has its truth value (cf. Kaplan 1989: 522 ). Again, the relation is general: if the content of a judgment is a function from indices of some type to truth values, then a judgment is the very step of applying that content to the relevantly actual index.

On this picture, what holds for judgment carries over to assertion. It is in the force of an utterance that the step is taken from the content to the actual point of evaluation. This view has been stated by Recanati with respect to the actual world :

a content is not enough; we need to connect that content with the actual world, via the assertive force of the utterance, in virtue of which the content is presented as characterizing that world. ( Recanati 2007: 37 )

Essentially, this is Frege's view: the speaker gives an outer sign of taking the proposition to be true. The question is whether this view can be given a non-metaphorical rendering that improves on the idea of expressing a belief.

One phrase that is often used in this context that of “presenting a proposition as true” (cf. Wright 1992: 34 ). Prima facie , it characterizes assertion well. However, there are two problems with the idea. The first is that it should generalize to other speech act types, but does not seem to do so. For instance, presenting the proposition that Elsa is at home as a proposition that the speaker would like to know the truth value of, leaves it open whether the utterance is interrogative, optative, or imperative:

• (26) a. Is Elsa at home?
• b. I would like to know whether Elsa is at home.
• c. Inform me whether Elsa is at home!

Secondly, it is unclear what “presenting” amounts to. It must be a sense of the word different from that in which the word ‘heterological’ is presented as long in

• (27) ‘Heterological’ is a long word.

For if the word is presented as long in the sentence (27), then also the proposition that snow is white is presented as true in the sentence

• (28) The proposition that snow is white is true.

even if the sentence is not uttered assertorically. There is therefore a weak sense of ‘present’ , which does not require that the presentation itself is made with assertoric force (like an obsolete label on a bottle), and that sense is too weak. It would be instantiated by conjectures, assumptions, and perhaps also by forceless utterances. There is clearly also a stronger sense of ‘present’ which does require assertoric force (for cases when the label is taken to apply), but that is just what we want to have (non-circularly) explained. Simply using the phrase “present as true” does not by itself help.

Another idea for characterizing assertion in terms of truth-related attitudes is that assertion aims at truth. This is stated, for instance, both by Bernard Williams ( 1966 ) and by Michael Dummett ( 1981 ). It can be understood in two rather different ways, the one intended by Williams and the other by Dummett (for some ways of understanding what it could be for belief to aim at truth, see Engel (2004) , Glüer & Wikforss (2013 ).

On Williams's view, the property of aiming at truth is what characterizes fact-stating discourse, as opposed to, e.g., evaluative or directive discourse. It is natural to think of

• (29) The moon is about 384.000 km from the Earth

as stating a fact, and of

• (30) Bardot is good

as expressing an evaluation, not corresponding to any fact of the matter. On Williams's view, to regard a sincere utterance of

• (31) It is wrong to steal

as a moral assertion , is to take a realistic attitude to moral discourse: there are moral facts, making moral statements objectively true or false. This view again comes in two versions. On the first alternative, the existence of moral facts renders the discourse fact-stating, whether the speaker thinks so or not, and the non-existence renders it evaluative, again whether the speaker thinks so or not. On the second alternative, an utterance of (31) is an assertion if the speaker has a realistic attitude towards moral discourse and otherwise not.

On these views, it is assumed that truth is a substantial property ( Williams 1966: 202 ), not a concept that can be characterized in some deflationary way. As a consequence, the sentence

• (32) ‘Bardot is good’ is true.

is to be regarded as false, since (30) is objectively neither true nor false; there is no fact of the matter.

Pointing to the difference between fact-stating and evaluative discourse may help to distinguish assertions from evaluations, but does not, again, help to distinguish assertion from other acts within the fact-stating family, such as conjectures and assumptions. In fact, unless we read a lot into “stating”, it is not enough even to distinguish assertion from other acts that concern facts, or states of affairs, such expressing a wish that a fact obtains.

In addition, recent years have seen a broadening of the use of the terms ‘truth’ and ‘assertion’ that runs counter to characterizing assertion by means of the fact-value dichotomy. In various forms of relativism , expressions of judgments of personal taste, such as

• (33) Licorice is tasty.

are characterized as assertions, and the semantic treatments use truth as the basic sentence property. Common to varieties of relativism with respect to predicates of personal taste is the idea that there is an extra parameter of evaluation, a standard of taste , over and above, say, possible world and time. Despite the lack of objectivity in a more ordinary sense, such a semantics is typically coupled with treating utterances of sentences such as as assertions (cf. Kölbel 2004: 71 ; Lasersohn 2005 ; Egan 2012 ; MacFarlane 2014: Chpt. 7 ). There is, of course, a further question whether such a treatment is appropriate.

Perhaps the best way of capturing the cognitive nature of assertion is to to give a theory of the cognitive features of normal communication by means of assertion. A classic theory is Stalnaker's ( 1974, 1978 ). Stalnaker provides a model of a conversation in which assertion and presupposition dynamically interact. On Stalnaker's model, propositions are presupposed in a conversation if they are on record as belonging to the common ground between the speakers. When an assertion is made and accepted in the conversation, its content is added to the common ground, and the the truth of the proposition in question will be presupposed in later stages. What is presupposed at a given stage has an effect on the interpretation of new utterances made at that stage. Stalnaker uses a possible worlds framework, and characterizes the common ground as a set of possible worlds (the worlds where all that is presupposed is true), the context set .

In this framework Stalnaker (1978: 88–89) proposes three rules for assertion:

• (Stal) i. A proposition is always true in some but not in all of the possible worlds in the context set.
• ii. Any assertive utterance should expresses a proposition, relative to each possible world in the context set, and that proposition should have truth value in each possible world in the context set.
• iii. The same proposition is expressed relative to each possible world in the context set.

Stalnaker comments on the first rule:

To assert something incompatible with what is presupposed is self-defeating […] And to assert something which already presupposed is to attempt to do something that is already done.

On such an approach, the satisfaction of a presupposition is an admittance condition of an assertion (cf. Karttunen 1974; Heim 1983). This idea connects with Austin's more general pragmatic idea of felicity conditions of speech acts.

However, as was already pointed out by Stalnaker ( 1974: 55 ), and later stressed in Lewis (1979) , an assertion that intuitively presupposes the truth of another proposition need not fail, but can instead have the effect of adjusting the common ground. In so-called accommodation , the hearer adds background assumptions that would be required for interpretation. For instance, upon hearing Lewis utter

• (34) The cat has gone upstairs

the hearer who didn't know may accommodate by adding the assumption that there is a unique, contextually salient cat. Accommodation is further discussed in Stalnaker (2002) , where it is stressed, among other things, that it works, when it works, because of what is already presupposed. For example (34), it is presupposed that the speaker knows whether or not he has a cat.

Whatever the truth about presupposition accommodation, Stalnaker offers a model of the cognitive features of communication and the role of assertion therein. Does it thereby also offer an account of assertion? The answer is no, for the role of assertion is shared by other speech acts such as assuming and conjecturing . What is added to the common ground is only for the purpose of conversation, and need not be actually believed by the participants. It is only required that it be accepted (cf. Stalnaker 2002: 716 ).

Stalnaker has not (as far as I am aware) attempted to add a distinguishing feature of assertion to the model. This has, however, been attempted by Jonathan Schaffer (2008) and by Max Kölbel ( 2011: 68–70 ). Schaffer proposes to add a topic-sensitive knowledge norm (cf. subsection 6.2 ) to the Stalnakerian picture. Kölbel focuses on commitments instead. According to Kölbel, assumptions differ from assertion in two respects. Firstly, they are temporary, which means that they can be revoked when they have served their purpose. Secondly, they do not have the same commitment properties. On Kölbel's view, an assertion that \(p\) is made with the (Brandomian) undertaking of the “obligation to justify that \(p\) on request”. This undertaking, according to Kölbel, also distinguishes assertion from presupposition, although in a more subtle way. It is not, however, clear why in Kölbel's view, Stalnaker's account would be needed in addition to the obligation property.

Another cognitive account is offered by Pagin ( 2011 ). The account is summarized by the phrase: “an assertion is an utterance that is prima facie informative”. For an utterance to be informative is for it to be made in part “because it is true”. What this amounts to is different, but complementary, for speaker and hearer. For the speaker, part of the reason for using a particular sentence is that it is true (in context); that is, the speaker believes, with a sufficient strength, that the sentence expresses a true proposition. For the hearer, taking the utterance as informative, means, by default, to update his credence in the proposition as a response to the utterance, both in the upwards direction and to a level above 0.5.

The prima facie element of the account means that the typical properties on the speaker and hearer side are only default properties associated with surface features of the utterance: the declarative sentence type, a typical intonation pattern, etc. There are many possible reasons why a speaker my utter such a sentence without believing the proposition, and why a hearer may not adjust his credence in the typical manner. For example, the speaker may be lying, the hearer may distrust the speaker, or may already have given the proposition a very high credence before the utterance. On Pagin's picture, it is the cognitive patterns associated with surface features, on the production and comprehension sides, that characterize assertion. This way of dividing the account between speaker and hearer is somewhat controversial.

Yet another cognitive account is elaborated in Jary (2010) . Jary's account is situated within Relevance Theory , a more general account of cognition and communication. As a typical ingredient of this general framework, when an assertion is made, the proposition expressed by the utterance is presented as “relevant to the hearer” ( 2010: 163 ), where ‘relevant’ is a technical term ( Sperber & Wilson 1995: 265 ).

What distinguishes assertion from other speech act types is something different:

Assertion cannot be defined thus, though. In order for an utterance to have assertoric force, it must also be subject to the cognitive and social safeguards that distinguish assertion. […] It is the applicability of these safeguards that distinguishes assertion both from other illocutionary acts and from other forms of information transfer. ( Jary 2010: 163–4 )

Social safeguards consist in sanctions against misleading assertions, while cognitive safeguards consist in the ability of the hearer to not simply accept what is said but meta-represent the speaker as expressing certain beliefs and intentions ( 2010: 160 ). It is part of a full account of assertion, according to Jary, that assertions are subject to these safeguards. This also distinguishes assertions from promises and commands, where the proposition is not presented as subject to the hearer's safeguards; “rejection is not presented as an option for the hearer” ( 2010: 73 ).

Although Jary's account no doubt captures some of the cognitive ingredients in producing and comprehending assertions, it seems also to be a fairly liberal mixture of social character accounts and communicative intentions accounts. One wonders whether it is impossible to make assertions without the existence of social sanctions, and how plausible it is to suppose the average speaker to intend his utterance to be subject to the hearer's ability to meta-represent the speaker.

The idea that language use in general is governed by rules or norms is old and widespread. That speech acts, as speech acts, are governed by norms, is again a well established idea. It is also currently (2014) a very popular idea: by far most of the literature on assertion over the past fifteen years has concerned the question of the so-called “norms of assertion”, often simply taking for granted that there are such norms, and that they play a central and fundamental role. The task is then to identify them.

In the literature, two very different types of norm have been discussed. One type concerns the decision whether or not an assertion has been made by means of an utterance. These norms are usually characterized as conventions . The other type concerns conditions of propriety , or correctness , of assertion (in some cases actions following an assertion). These are typically called “norms”, and are sometimes characterized as “constitutive” of assertion as a speech act type. We shall discuss these two types separately.

Austin held that illocutionary acts as opposed to perlocutionary acts are conventional , in the sense that they can be made explicit by the so-called performative formula ( Austin 1962: 103 ). According to Austin, one can say ‘I argue that’ or ‘I warn you that’ but not ‘I convince you that’ or ‘I alarm you that’ . Presumably, the idea was that a speech act type is conventional just if there exists a convention by which an utterance of a sentence of a certain kind ensures (if uptake is secured) that a speech act of that type is performed. Austin probably thought that in virtue of the performative formulas this condition is met by illocutionary but not by perlocutionary act types.

The more general claim that illocutionary force is correlated by convention with sentence type has been advocated by Michael Dummett ( 1981: 302, 311 ). On this view, it is a convention that declarative sentences are used for assertion, interrogative for questions and imperative for commands and requests. Similar views have been put forward by Searle ( 1969 ) and Kotatko ( 1998 ), and the idea has been more recently defended by Kölbel (2010) . According to Searle ( 1969: 38, 40 ), illocutionary acts are conventional, and the conventions in question govern the use of so-called force-indicating devices ( Searle 1969: 64 ) specific to each language. Searle does not claim that the standard sentence types are force indicating devices (but speculates that a representation of illocutionary type would be part of the syntactic deep structure).

However, the view that illocutionary acts types are conventional in this sense has met with much opposition. Strawson ( 1964: 153–4 ) objected early on that ordinary illocutionary acts can be performed without relying on any convention to identify the force, for instance when using a declarative sentence like ‘The ice over there is very thin’ for a warning. This kind of criticism, now directed against Dummett, has later been reinforced by Robert J. Stainton ( 1997, 2006 ), stressing that in appropriate contexts, sub-sentential phrases like ‘John's father’ (pointing at a man) or ‘very fast’ (looking at a car) can be used to make assertions, and gives linguistic arguments why not all such uses can be treated as cases of ellipsis, that is, as cases of leaving out parts of a well-formed sentence that speaker and hearer tacitly aware of. If Strawson and Stainton are right, convention isn't necessary for making assertions.

Moreover, Donald Davidson ( 1979 , 1984a ) stressed that no conventional sign could work as a force indicator in this sense, since any conventional sign could be used (and would be used) in insincere utterances, where the corresponding force was missing, including cases of deception, jokes, impersonation and other theatrical performances. Basically the same point is made by Bach and Harnish ( 1979: 122–7 ). If Davidson, and Bach and Harnish are right, then conventions are also not sufficient.

Kölbel ( 2010 ) argues against this that in certain circumstances misuse is impossible. For instance, according to Kölbel ( 2010: 125 ) in a situation of contract signing, you cannot just pretend to be signing a contract; if you write your name at the appropriate place, you have thereby signed the contract, whatever went on in your mind. This is no doubt correct, but if Davidson and Bach and Harnish are right, it is possible to fake an entire contract signing situation, as a joke or as part of a performance. Within a fake situation, you can also fake the signing, by performing an action that looks just as the genuine signing itself.

The situation is complicated by the fact that the general question of when a convention, or rule of any kind, is in force for a speaker, is substantial and complex (cf. Pagin 1987: Chpt. 1 ). For instance, it may be fully determined by purely public features of a linguistic context \(c\) whether according to a convention \(R\) an assertion was made, but yet not itself settled by purely public features whether convention \(R\) was in force for the speaker in \(c\) . This would still leave it a non-public issue whether an assertion was made.

Most of the discussion of norms during the past fifteen years has concerned the propriety , or correctness , of assertions, not conventional means of recognizing them (Kölbel ( 2010 ) is one of few to discuss both).

In general, an account of assertion in terms of norms is an account that invokes the existence , or the being in force , of norms that uniquely govern assertions. This is not just a sociological observation. I can note that \(S\) has committed himself to doing \(F\) , in the sense of accepting such a commitment, without myself thinking that \(S\) is obligated to do it, just as well as I can think that \(S\) is obligated although he himself does not recognize it. By contrast, if I both say that assertions are actions governed by such and such norms, and that furthermore assertions are in fact made, I have myself taken a normative stance, acknowledging the force of norms.

Does such an acknowledgment come already with classifying assertions as correct or incorrect? Is correctness an inherently normative notion, or is it just descriptive? According to, for instance, (an earlier view of) Paul Boghossian ( 1989: 513 ), the mere fact that we can evaluate assertions as correct or incorrect shows that words are governed by norms of use. According to Kathrin Glüer, Anandi Hattiangadi, and Åsa Wikforss, and to a later view of Boghossian's, on the other hand, there is no reason to see in the notions of correctness and incorrectness anything more than a descriptive classification, which may then be coupled with certain a preference for correct assertions over incorrect ones, both in making and in taking (cf. Glüer 2001: 60–5 ; Hattiangadi 2010 ; Wikforss 2001 ; Boghossian 2003 ; Glüer & Wikforss 2009a, 2009b ). Those preferences may then be explained by wholly external factors, for instance by appeal to social psychology, or the desire for knowledge, but is not internal to the idea of assertion itself. Moreover, even if we are using a genuinely normative notion of correctness, it may well be that the norm in question is not unique to assertion, but governs a broader range of actions, perhaps actions in general, as in the case of moral norms. We shall return to this latter point.

As has often been noted, an assertion can be correct in different respects. For instance, a speaker can say something true but be impolite in saying it, thereby making an assertion that is incorrect with respect to norms of etiquette. It may also have been immoral, or imprudent, tactically or strategically bad. Moreover, an assertion may have, for instance an implicature that is incorrect, even though the primary act considered in isolation is to be deemed correct.

Sometimes, a distinction is made between aspects of badness that can be eliminated by means of retracting an assertion, and aspects that can't be. I can take back a claim if I find I was wrong, but I cannot eliminate for instance a breach of confidence. According to Dummett ( 1976: 48 ), this distinction is drawn between aspects that concern what is said and aspects that concern the saying of it , respectively (compare Kvanvig 2009: 148 ). The relevant notion of correctness, according to Dummett, concerns only what is said. He adds that

an undifferentiated concept of the acceptability of an utterance—of an utterance's not being open to criticism of any kind—would be of little use for our purposes.

Clearly, it is the epistemic aspects of assertions that have been the concern in the literature when characterizing assertions as “correct”, “justified”, “proper”, “warranted”, “assertible”, or “warrantedly assertible”. Such a notion was taken on board in pragmatism, and in later forms of anti-realism. John Dewey ( 1938 ) seems to have been the first to characterize truth in terms of assertoric correctness, with his notion of warranted assertibility , even though this idea had a clear affinity with the verifiability principle of Moritz Schlick ( 1936 ). Dewey was later followed by, notably, Dummett ( 1976 ) and Hilary Putnam ( 1981 ). Common to them is the position that there cannot be anything more to truth than being supported by the best available evidence. Dewey, following Peirce, regarded truth as the ideal limit of scientific inquiry ( Dewey 1938: 345 ), and a proposition warrantedly asserted only when known in virtue of such an inquiry. Warranted assertibility is the property of a proposition for which such knowledge potentially exists ( 1938: 9 ).

Putnam ( 1981: 54–6 ) operated with an idea of assertibility under ideal epistemic conditions. Under normal conditions, a speaker can be justified in making an assertion even though what she asserts is false. The evidence is enough for truth under normal circumstances, but because of abnormal interference the evidence falls short. For instance, improbable changes, say because of a fire, may have taken place after the speaker's observation. However, in ideal epistemic conditions evidence that is sufficient for justifying an assertion is also conclusive.

On Dummett's view, we do get a notion of truth distinct from the notion of a correct assertion only because of the semantics of compound sentences ( 1976: 50–2 ). In particular, the conditions of correctly assertorically uttering a conditional \(\phi {\ \rightarrow\ }\psi\) may depend on the truth-conditions of \(\phi\) rather than the conditions of correct assertions by uttering \(\phi\) . This is the case in particular in the future tense, as in ‘If it will rain, the ceremony will take place indoors’ . In this case, whether it is correct or not, at the time of utterance, to assert that it will rain, or that it will not rain, is irrelevant to the correctness of an assertoric utterance of the conditional itself.

In these early discussions, the strategy was that of getting a handle on truth by means of an appeal to the notion of the correctness of an assertion, which was taken as more fundamental. The question of what the correctness of an assertion consists in was not itself much discussed, although Dummett ( 1976: 77–8 ) is careful to distinguish between the case where a speaker makes an assertion on the basis of adequate evidence, and the case where adequate evidence is available , but the speaker makes the assertion without being aware of it. In the latter case, according to Dummett, the speaker was not correct, but the assertion was.

In recent discussions, by contrast, the general strategy has been to get a handle on knowledge , and most of the contributors have been concerned with assertion in the context of investigations in epistemology, often from different epistemological standpoints. Nevertheless, the scope of the discussion of assertion has increased, with more of a focus on the very question itself: under what conditions is an assertion correct , or proper .

The recent wave of discussion was started by Timothy Williamson ( 1996, 2000 ), who proposed that assertion is governed by a norm of assertion. Williamson proposed what has come to be known as the knowledge norm , or knowledge rule :

• (K-A) One must: assert p only if one knows p . ( Williamson 2000: 243 )

(K-A) is proposed as part of an account of assertion. Other norms have been proposed, and some ideas about the role and status of the norm proposed are usually shared. Let's use \(N\) as schematic for a norm of assertion.

• (N1) N applies specifically to assertion.

By (N1), the norm is a norm only for the making of assertions. As a norm of assertion, the norm is in place to govern the making of assertions in general, and to govern nothing else.

• (N2) The condition of N uniquely identifies assertion.

If (N2) holds of (K-A), then there is one unique speech act type, or even one unique action type such that the agent is permitted in general to perform actions of this type, with respect to a proposition \(p\) , only of the agent knows that \(p\) . Knowing what the condition of permissibility is, we will also know what the action type is. This is different from (N1), for (N1) leaves it open that another norm with exactly the same condition (knowledge that \(p\) ) would hold for some other action type than assertion. This is ruled out by (N2).

• (N3) Being subject to N is essential to assertion as an action type.

(N3) goes beyond (N2) insofar as (N2) leaves it open that assertion is only actually individuated by \(N\) , and that assertion could have been governed by some other norm. It should be emphasized here that on the norm view, it is being subject to the norm that characterizes assertion, not conforming to the norm . An assertion that violates the norm is still an assertion. Nothing but an assertion could violate the norm, if the (N2) and (N3) properties hold.

• (N4) Assertion is constituted by N .

This is a stronger property than (N3), but several of the theorists do claim that their proposed norm has this property. We return below to what constitutivity amounts to.

• (N5) A particular assertion can be subject also to other rules with different areas of application, such that the all-thing-considered outcome is that an assertion ought not to be done, even though not a violation of N .

As we shall see, although this is a property everyone agrees on, it has been used in the debate over the intuitive support of some candidate norms over others.

• (N6) Norms are related to evaluations of assertions. An assertion that violates N is incorrect / improper . An assertion that satisfies all relevant norms is correct / proper .

On some understandings of the matter, (N6) is simply trivial. However, it is perfectly possible to see some candidate norms as ideals , while the evaluations of individual assertions may take into account various relations between the assertion and the norm over and above conformity. In fact, this has been an issue in the debate, as we shall also see.

The positive evaluation requires satisfaction of all relevant norms. If there is only one, this norm cannot be only prohibitive, that is, specify necessary conditions, as does (K-A), but should be biconditional, and also give sufficient conditions as well. A biconditional strengthening of (K-A) is

• (K2-A) It is permissible for S to assert that p iff S knows that p .

Williamson gives only the prohibitive version. The biconditional version is discussed in Hawthorne 2004: 23 and Lackey 2011: 251–75 , as well as in Brown 2010 and 2011 (Brown (2010) argues against the sufficiency part by means proposed counterexamples).

It may be noted that (K2-A) is prima facie inconsistent with (N5): if the norm says that an assertion is permissible while another norm says that it is not, we have a contradiction, unless we specify a separate respect in which assertions are assessed with respect to the norm of assertion. As long as the norm is couched in neutral deontic terms, there is a problem. Merely prohibitive norms do not have this problem, unless in relation to other norms that are themselves biconditional.

For the most part, the literature on norms of assertion has concerned the question which the norm of assertion is. That is, it is in general not asked whether there are norms of assertion (in some sense or other), what status such norms have, whether they are constitutive, or what constitutivity amounts to. It is normally taken for granted that there is a norm that holds for all assertions and for assertions specifically (the property). The question is which, and what the reasons are for favoring this or that answer.

Over and above Williamson himself, the knowledge norm (K-A) (or (K2-A)) has been favored by Keith DeRose ( 2002 ), Steven Reynolds ( 2002 ), Jonathan Adler (2002: 275) , John Hawthorne ( 2004 ), Jason Stanley ( 2005 ), Pascal Engel ( 2008 ), Jonathan Schaffer ( 2008 ), and John Turri ( 2010 ).

Some have proposed norms that are similar to (K-A), but instead sets the condition in relation to the transmission of knowledge to the hearer. An example is Manuel García-Carpintero ( 2004: 156 ):

• (TK-A) One must (assert p only if one's audience comes thereby to be in a position to know that p )

Similar norms have also been proposed by Pelling (2013) and by Hinchman (2013) . Carpintero suggests that his version is preferable to Williamson's because it brings out the social, communicative function of language ( 2004: 157 ). He argues that only (TK-A) could be expected to be a convention , and takes that to speak in its favor.

Most alternatives to the knowledge norm that have been proposed are weaker, in requiring less than knowledge. It has been proposed that assertion goes just with truth, just with knowledge, or just with justification. Matthew Weiner ( 2005 ) proposed a truth norm:

• (T-A) Assert only what is true.

(this formulation is close to what Weiner says. Cf. also the survey article Weiner (2007 ). MacFarlane ( 2014: 103 ) also proposes a truth rule, but requires it to be qualified as being reflective : this means, in the context of MacFarlane's relativism , that the proposition should be true in the context of utterance, as assessed from the same context of utterance. [ 8 ] According to MacFarlane, the truth rule needs to be complemented by a retraction rule (see below).

A corresponding statement of a belief norm would be

• (B-A) Assert only what you believe.

With ‘say’ instead of belief, this is close to a reformulations of Grice's second submaxim of Quality (“Do not say what you believe to be false.” Grice 1989: 27 ). The belief norm is explicitly stated by Bach (2008: 77) . Bach directly infers that the norm of assertion is the belief norm from the fact that an assertion is sincere if, and only if, the speaker believes what she asserts.

A justifed belief norm requires more than (B-A):

• (JB-A) Assert only what you believe with justification.

Exactly what justification amounts to varies between authors. Igor Douven ( 2006 , 2009 ) argues for a norm of rational belief .

Several authors have argued that it is the justification itself that is the key to evaluating assertions. A standard formulation would be

• (J-A) Assert only that for which you have proper justification.

This view has been taken by Jonathan Kvanvig ( 2009: 145 ; 2011: 249–50 ). Kvanvig proposes that the relevant concept of justification is such that it is sufficient for knowledge, provided the proposition is both believed and true (and the justification is undefeated). Justification is also emphasized by Jennifer Lackey ( 2007: 608 ), who proposes a Reasonable to Believe norm, according to which belief is not required; what is required is that it is reasonable to believe that \(p\) , and that the speaker asserts that \(p\) for this reason (even if in fact not believing that \(p\) ). Lackey backs this idea up with thought experiments about so-called “selfless” assertions, where speakers make assertion in accordance with their evidence but against their beliefs. Also, Ishani Maitra and Brian Weatherson ( 2010: 112 ) propose what they call The Evidence Responsiveness Rule , that one assert that p only if one's attitude towards \(p\) is properly responsive to the evidence (they also propose to complement it with an action rule , that it is proper to assert that \(p\) only if acting as if \(p\) is “the thing for you to do”.)

These alternatives to the knowledge norm all propose norms with weaker requirements. But a stronger requirement has also been suggested by Stanley ( 2008 ):

• (EC-A) Assert only what is epistemically certain.

Here one is epistemically certain of a proposition \(p\) is

if and only if one knows that \(p\) (or is in a position to know that \(p\) ) on the basis of evidence that gives one the highest degree of justification for one's belief that \(p\) . ( 2008: 35 )

Stanley also considers as an alternative a subjective certainty norm, where it is the degree of confidence of the speaker that matters, but in the end opts for regarding this norm as derivable from the epistemic certainty norm.

Some authors have proposed norms for what to do after an assertion. MacFarlane ( 2014: 108 ) holds that a speaker is required to retract an assertion if it turns out not be true, in a context of assessment:

• (R-A) Retract an (unretracted) assertion if it turns out not to be true.

Again, in MacFarlane's case, this rule is stated in the context of his relativism, with respect to a context of use and a context of assessment. In MacFarlane's theory, assertion is governed jointly by the (reflective) truth norm and the retraction norm. According to Michael Rescorla ( 2009 ), there is no norm at all for proper making of assertions. There are only norms that govern later reactions. He proposes three similar alternatives, which share the idea that when a speaker is challenged with respect to an assertion he has made, he must either defend the assertion or else retract it ( Rescorla 2009: 103–5 ).

Many authors have noted that standards for judging assertions vary between contexts, and have proposed to work that into the account. The first to do so was Keith DeRose ( 2002 ). DeRose argued from the knowledge norm and the varying standards for assertion as premises, to the conclusion that epistemic contextualism is true ( 2002: 182 ). Epistemic contextualism is the view that ‘know’ is semantically context dependent. The truth value of a knowledge attribution ‘X knows that \(p\) ’ depends on standards of knowledge in the context of the knowledge attributor .

DeRose's argument has been challenged by several authors. For instance, Brown (2010) points out that the argument depends on the biconditional version (K2-A) of the knowledge norm, and argues that the sufficiency part is less well supported. Stanley also criticizes DeRose, despite accepting that the standards of proper assertion vary between contexts. According to Stanley, the reason this does not lead to contextualism about knowledge is that assertion is governed by the certainty norm ( 2008: 55–6 ). According to Stanley, the varying standards of proper assertion depends on the context dependence of ‘certain’ , not on any context dependence of ‘know’ (which Stanley rejects). According to Schaffer ( 2008 ), on the other hand, knowledge itself is relative to a question under discussion , which is reflected in his version of the knowledge norm ( Schaffer 2008: 10 ).

Some authors who note that standards of proper assertion appears to vary between context suggest that there is not a single norm with a contextual parameter, but rather that different norms apply in different contexts, still governing one and the same speech act type, assertion. This line has been taken by Jim Stone ( 2007 ) and by Janet Levin ( 2008 ). In some contexts knowledge is required, in some contexts something less demanding, such as justified belief. Patrick Greenough ( 2011 ) takes this line even further by proposing norm-relativism : what norm is relevant for an assertion in a context is relative to a perspective .

One question that arises with respect to such views is this: if the speech act type is individuated by the norm governing it, and norms of utterances vary between contexts, is it then still the case that one and the same (illocutionary) speech act type is performed across contexts. One who has denied this is John Turri ( 2010 ). Turri suggests a class of “alethic” speech acts, including conjecturing, asserting, and guaranteeing. The first is weaker and the third stronger than assertion. They are ranked on a so-called “credibility index” ( 2010: 85 ), depending on what degree of credibility is required by the speech act type. In contexts with different demands on credibility, different speech acts are performed. For assertion itself, the standard is invariant, it is simply knowledge. Turri uses this view to counter DeRose's argument for epistemic contextualism. The view itself, however, seems not to conform to the standard view concerning which utterances belong in the extension of ‘assertion’ .

A more radical conclusion from the assumed normative variation has been drawn by Herman Cappelen ( 2011 ). According to Cappelen, the proper conclusion is that assertion as a speech act type doesn't exist. In Cappelen's words, the term ‘assertion’

fails to pick out an act-type that we engage in and it is not a category we need in order to explain any significant component of our linguistic practice. ( 2011: 21 )

The picture is complicated even further by the fact that many accounts recognize more than one evaluation of assertions. This is proposed by Williamson himself ( 2000: 256–7 ), who speaks of a case where it is reasonable to assert that \(p\) if one reasonable believes that one knows that \(p\) . He goes on to say

There may be other evidential norms for assertion, if they can be derived from the knowledge rule and considerations not specific to assertion. The reasonableness of asserting \(p\) when one reasonably believes that one knows \(p\) has just been derived in exactly that way ( Williamson 2000: 257 ).

The same distinction between what the norm requires and what is reasonable in its light has been drawn by DeRose. In the terminology of DeRose ( 2002: 180 ), it is known as the distinction between primary and secondary propriety. It is primarily improper but secondarily proper to assert what you reasonably believe that you know but you in fact don't. Similarly, Adler ( 2002: 235, 275 ) distinguishes between proper assertions, requiring knowledge, and warranted assertions, requiring full belief. Equally, Turri ( 2014 ) distinguishes between good assertions, requiring knowledge, and permissible assertions, requiring reasonable belief.

In these cases, a weaker secondary norm is derived from a stronger primary norm. Others have proceeded in the opposite direction. Both Bach ( 2008: 77 ) and Frank Hindriks ( 2007: 403–4 ) derive a knowledge norm from a belief norm by means of appealing to a knowledge norm for belief : since you should assert only what you believe and believe only what you know, you should also assert only what you know. In a somewhat similar fashion, Weiner derives a reasonable belief norm from the truth norm by appeal to Gricean cooperation: the requirement that one's utterance have some point is part and parcel of Grice's Cooperative Principle. An assertion does not satisfy this requirement just by be being true ( 2005: 232–8 ) or by being based on facts equally available to the hearer. The speaker must have additional reasons, and in some cases knowledge.

Some authors reject this distinction between primary and secondary propriety. Examples are Lackey ( 2007: 604 ), Engel ( 2004: 56 ), and Kvanvig ( 2011: 242 ). They all think that what we need is an unequivocal notion of when a speaker has acted appropriately and when not: if one has acted in an inappropriate way, then one is subject to legitimate criticism, and otherwise not. [ 9 ]

Accepting the distinction between primary and secondary propriety induces a problem for the intuitive support for the various theories. A large part of the intuitions that serve to support one or the other norm theory relies on raw intuitions about what one should or shouldn't assert in some situation, or what is proper or improper to assert there. If there are several ways an assertion can be proper or improper, then it is not easy to see what concept of propriety is being tracked by these intuitions.

Indeed, the distinction was introduced precisely in order deflect counterintuitive consequences. Several authors have objected to the knowledge norm that it is too demanding: many assertions seem not improper even in case the speaker does not know what he asserts. As noted above, Williamson discusses such cases. The idea is that a particular intuition that seems to disconfirm a particular normative theory can be explained away by saying that it does not in fact track the primary propriety, but instead only some secondary propriety. The problem with this move is that for the theory to be supported by intuitions of correctness/propriety, the application of the primary/secondary distinction should itself be based on these very intuitions. Since intuitions don't come labeled as “primary” and “secondary”, there is a risk of a substantial underdetermination of theory by data: two theorists need not agree about whether or not an intuition about a particular case supports a certain theory. Hawthorne and Stanley ( 2008: 585–6 ) remark that

[…] intuitions go a little hazy in any situation that some candidate normative theory says is sufficient to make it that one ought to \(F\) but where, in the case described, one does not know that situation obtains.

The situation is not solved by rejecting the primary/secondary distinction. As noted, everyone agrees that assertions are governed by various norms: moral, prudential, conversational, rules of etiquette. When does an intuition track the intended notion of a proper assertion, and when something else altogether? Kvanvig ( 2011: 235 ) and Engel ( 2008: 52–4 ) have drawn attention to this situation. According to Kvanvig, intuitions typically concern whether assertions are all-things-considered appropriate. Kvanvig points out that an assertion may be all-things-considered appropriate without being appropriate from the epistemic point of view. However, although this is an important distinction, the question is how intuition does support the idea that the epistemic point of view is what is relevant.

Virtually throughout the discussion, authors have simply appealed to their own intuitions. However, this is an area where experimental philosophy would be highly relevant, since the question largely seems to concern what norms ordinary asserters accept. The situation is about to change. Recently, John Turri ( 2013 ) has published results from a series of survey studies, where the aim was to determine whether speakers accept a factive or a non-factive norm: the norm is factive in case an assertion is proper only if what is asserted is true, otherwise non-factive. Turri reports six studies, where subjects are presented with written scenarios and are given multiple choice questions in relation to them. Turri concludes that they all showed that speakers apply a factive norm. A story character Maria has strong evidence for a proposition \(p\) , but knows that the evidence is inconclusive (an inventory that is only almost complete). In one particular case, the evidence is misleading, and subjects are asked whether Maria “should” assert the false but well supported proposition. A clear majority answer no. However, when given a choice between alternatives of what to say in the same evidential situation where it is false that \(p\) (Experiment 4), almost as many answer prefer “ \(p\) ” or “probably \(p\) ” as prefer “probably not \(p\) ”, “not \(p\) ”, or “definitely not \(p\) ”. Furthermore, when asked to evaluate an assertion in a situation of blameless mistake, where the speaker had every reason to expect the evidence not to be misleading (Experiment 5), the outcome was also not straightforward. With respect to the question “Is there a sense in which it is incorrect for Robert to make the statement?”, a little more than half answered no . These results indicate that it is not so clear exactly what properties the subjects' intuitions track, nor to what extent there is intersubjective agreement. Further studies may help to clarify the picture.

In addition to direct intuitions about propriety, proponents of the knowledge norm have adduced indirect evidence in the form of intuitions about conversational patterns, claiming that these patterns are best explained by the acceptance of the knowledge norm. Williamson himself appeals to such patterns, two of which concern utterances of like

• (35) It is raining, but I don't know that it is raining.
• (36) Your ticket did not win.

Concerning the first, it is claimed ( Williamson 2000: 253 ) that an utterance of (35) is as odd as ordinary belief-related Moorean sentences such as (24) above. The oddity is explained by appeal to the knowledge norm. If the assertion is proper, the speaker knows that the proposition expressed by (35) is true. Since knowledge distributes over conjunction, she knows that it is raining and she knows that she does not know that it is raining. As knowledge is factive, since she knows that she does not know that it is raining, she does not know that it is raining. So we have a contradiction. Hence, the assumption that the assertion is proper leads, on the knowledge account, to a contradiction. An assertion that cannot be proper is odd. Since the oddity is explained by the knowledge account, it supports the knowledge account.

(36) is imagined uttered by speaker A in the following situation. The draw of a (fair) lottery with a large number of tickets has been held. It is known that only one ticket wins. B has a ticket, but neither A nor B knows the result. A asserts (36) on merely probabilistic grounds. The probability that the ticket has won is very low (and one can get it arbitrarily low, short of zero, by increasing the number of tickets in the lottery). According to the argument, an assertion of (36) in such a case is intuitively incorrect. According to Williamson ( 2000: 246–49 ), A is criticizable, since A represented himself as having an authority for the assertion which he lacked. The conclusion is that only knowledge provides proper warrant, since no probability short of 1 escapes the criticism for lack of authority. Hence, the knowledge account explains the unacceptability of A 's utterance.

Both arguments have been criticized by a number of authors. The most common line is that the data can be equally well or better explained by other competing accounts, extraneous principles, or a combination of these. For instance, Kvanvig (2009: 149–50) presents a derivation to show that the oddity of (35) can be explained by appeal to a justification norm. Similarly, Douven (2009) , with respect to his rational belief account. According to Stanley (2008) , since the certainty norm requires more than just knowledge, everything that can be explained by appeal to the knowledge norm can also be explained by appeal to the certainty norm. Others have pointed to the general pragmatic/rhetorical infelicity of (35) as a fact extraneous to norms of assertion, including Douven (2006: 474–5) , Maitra & Weatherson (2010: 110) , and Cappelen (2011: 38–40) . Maitra and Weatherson claim that there need be nothing wrong with first asserting that \(p\) , and later, in response to a question, deny that one knows that \(p\) , but without retracting the assertion. What is strange is just conjoining the two statements. The opposite view on the matter was taken by Paolo Casalegno (2009: 246) .

Concerning the lottery example (36), Weiner (2005: 236) explains the apparent unacceptability of the utterance by appeal to Grice's maxim of Manner: putting it categorically, as in (36), instead of in terms of high probability, legitimizes the inference that A has more information than what was known before the draw. Kvanvig (2009: 156) claims that the oddity is explained by the justification account, since for a belief to be justified, in Kvanvig's sense, requires that there is no need of further investigation. This is a condition that is not met for the utterance of (36) in the lottery scenario. In lotteries, you always have to wait for the draw in order to close the inquiry.

Further conversational patterns have been adduced in favor of the knowledge norm, by Williamson and others. For an overview, see Turri (2014: 565–6) . A general problem with the appeal to conversational patterns is that they don't seem to favor specifically normative views over corresponding non-normative views. For instance, it appears that any linguistic phenomenon that can be explained by appeal to a knowledge norm can be equally well explained by appeal to the view that asserters represent themselves as knowing what they say (although there is no norm). Combine this with extraneous, non-assertion-specific norms. That A 's utterance of (36) is bad can then be explained by appeal to self-representation of knowledge, together with the general moral norm that it is wrong the mislead hearers, for instance by representing oneself as having knowledge.

Let's finally turn to the question of the normative status of the proposed norms. In much of the literature, this question is not touched upon, but when it is, authors tend to favor the idea that the norm is constitutive of assertion. Williamson himself ( 2000: 238–41 ) is an example, and so are Stanley (2008: 52) , Rescorla (2009: 99–101) , Kölbel (2010: 109–11) , and MacFarlane (2014: 101–2) . Typically, norms of assertion are held to be constitutive of assertion as a speech act type as rules of a game define the game and are constitutive of game action types. Thus, proponents take their preferred norms of assertion to have properties (N1)–(N4) above (by contrast, Dummett's view ( 1976: 89 ) was that convention settles what warrants assertion in a community).

Against the constitutivity claim, Pagin (2011) has argued that insofar as there are norms of assertion, their status among speakers do not much resemble rules of games. Firstly, players of a game rarely disagree about what the rules of the game are. If there is a disagreement, it is settled either by appeal to a generally recognized authority, such as a rule-book, or by stipulation, if it concerns a new case to be covered by rules. We don't find players appealing to intuition or the oddity of certain conversational patterns to convince each other of claims about what the rules are . By contrast, in the literature on norms of assertion itself, (as is evident from the presentation above) authors disagree widely about what the norm is, and they appeal to both intuition and linguistic arguments to support their own view. It seems that these authors, and perhaps speakers in general, find it easier to agree about whether an utterance was an assertion than about whether it was or was not proper.

Secondly, for a constituted game action type, like castling in chess, to be performable at all, the rules of chess must by some decision be in force ; if the rules of chess are not in force for a person at a particular time, her moving two pieces of wood at that time does not constitute castling (cf. Pagin 1987: Chpt. 3 ; Glüer & Pagin 1999 ). But this again seems very unlike the relation of norms to assertion. It does not seem that an utterance is recognizable as an assertion in virtue of a decision to regard it as subject to this or that norm. Rather, it seems that recognizing an utterance as an assertion precedes seeing it as subject to evaluation.

Maitra ( 2011 ) also criticizes the game analogy. Maitra claims that proposed norms fail to be properly constitutive:

By contrast, neither the knowledge nor the truth norm tells us what it is to assert something. Rather, they each assume that there is something that counts as asserting, and tell us at what an asserter ought to be aiming when performing the speech act ( Maitra 2011: 282 ).

According to Maitra, the reason for this failure on the part of the truth and knowledge norms is that they don't tell us what counts as asserting. They cannot be rewritten in that format either, because that would leave them incomplete. If we try “A speaker asserts \(p\) when he utters a sentence appropriately related to \(p\) and is criticizable for not knowing \(p\) ”, this leaves out a required specification of the kind of criticizability at issue ( 2011: 282, note 12 ). We might add a specification of this as well, but as I have understood Maitra, this information was supposed to be provided by the norm itself, and if it doesn't, the game analogy is of no help. A similar point, that we don't get the relevant specific notion of correctness from the general concept of a rule, is argued in Pagin (1987: Chpt. 2) .

Finally, there is a fundamental question that is not discussed at all: In virtue of what is a norm of assertion in force for a speaker or a speech community, if it is in force? Is it because of a collective acceptance? If so, it must be tacit, and, because of the wide disagreement among theorists, usually not accessible to introspection. Is it because of some metaphysical fact that assertions are essentially governed by this or that norm whenever they are performed, and whatever speakers think about it? That would indeed make sense of the debate, since it can be construed as an investigation into normative reality. But there remains a question of what influence normative reality has on linguistic practice. Probably none, or at best a pretty haphazard one, judging from the disagreement. Is it perhaps something internal to each speaker, and not intersubjectively shared? That can explain the differences among the participants in the debate. But it is hard to square this with the assumption that we share a practice of making and understanding assertions. If you and I accept different norms, then I simply misapply my norm to your utterances when interpreting them, and consequently systematically misinterpret your utterances. But for all we can tell, this does not generally seem to happen. All in all, the norm approach to assertion seems to have rather many challenges.

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Austin, John Langshaw | convention | Davidson, Donald | defaults in semantics and pragmatics | Frege, Gottlob | Grice, Paul | Peirce, Charles Sanders | pragmatics | Quine, Willard van Orman | speech acts | Strawson, Peter Frederick

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Thesis Statements

What this handout is about.

This handout describes what a thesis statement is, how thesis statements work in your writing, and how you can craft or refine one for your draft.

Introduction

Writing in college often takes the form of persuasion—convincing others that you have an interesting, logical point of view on the subject you are studying. Persuasion is a skill you practice regularly in your daily life. You persuade your roommate to clean up, your parents to let you borrow the car, your friend to vote for your favorite candidate or policy. In college, course assignments often ask you to make a persuasive case in writing. You are asked to convince your reader of your point of view. This form of persuasion, often called academic argument, follows a predictable pattern in writing. After a brief introduction of your topic, you state your point of view on the topic directly and often in one sentence. This sentence is the thesis statement, and it serves as a summary of the argument you’ll make in the rest of your paper.

What is a thesis statement?

A thesis statement:

• tells the reader how you will interpret the significance of the subject matter under discussion.
• is a road map for the paper; in other words, it tells the reader what to expect from the rest of the paper.
• directly answers the question asked of you. A thesis is an interpretation of a question or subject, not the subject itself. The subject, or topic, of an essay might be World War II or Moby Dick; a thesis must then offer a way to understand the war or the novel.
• makes a claim that others might dispute.
• is usually a single sentence near the beginning of your paper (most often, at the end of the first paragraph) that presents your argument to the reader. The rest of the paper, the body of the essay, gathers and organizes evidence that will persuade the reader of the logic of your interpretation.

If your assignment asks you to take a position or develop a claim about a subject, you may need to convey that position or claim in a thesis statement near the beginning of your draft. The assignment may not explicitly state that you need a thesis statement because your instructor may assume you will include one. When in doubt, ask your instructor if the assignment requires a thesis statement. When an assignment asks you to analyze, to interpret, to compare and contrast, to demonstrate cause and effect, or to take a stand on an issue, it is likely that you are being asked to develop a thesis and to support it persuasively. (Check out our handout on understanding assignments for more information.)

How do I create a thesis?

A thesis is the result of a lengthy thinking process. Formulating a thesis is not the first thing you do after reading an essay assignment. Before you develop an argument on any topic, you have to collect and organize evidence, look for possible relationships between known facts (such as surprising contrasts or similarities), and think about the significance of these relationships. Once you do this thinking, you will probably have a “working thesis” that presents a basic or main idea and an argument that you think you can support with evidence. Both the argument and your thesis are likely to need adjustment along the way.

Writers use all kinds of techniques to stimulate their thinking and to help them clarify relationships or comprehend the broader significance of a topic and arrive at a thesis statement. For more ideas on how to get started, see our handout on brainstorming .

How do I know if my thesis is strong?

If there’s time, run it by your instructor or make an appointment at the Writing Center to get some feedback. Even if you do not have time to get advice elsewhere, you can do some thesis evaluation of your own. When reviewing your first draft and its working thesis, ask yourself the following :

• Do I answer the question? Re-reading the question prompt after constructing a working thesis can help you fix an argument that misses the focus of the question. If the prompt isn’t phrased as a question, try to rephrase it. For example, “Discuss the effect of X on Y” can be rephrased as “What is the effect of X on Y?”
• Have I taken a position that others might challenge or oppose? If your thesis simply states facts that no one would, or even could, disagree with, it’s possible that you are simply providing a summary, rather than making an argument.
• Is my thesis statement specific enough? Thesis statements that are too vague often do not have a strong argument. If your thesis contains words like “good” or “successful,” see if you could be more specific: why is something “good”; what specifically makes something “successful”?
• Does my thesis pass the “So what?” test? If a reader’s first response is likely to  be “So what?” then you need to clarify, to forge a relationship, or to connect to a larger issue.
• Does my essay support my thesis specifically and without wandering? If your thesis and the body of your essay do not seem to go together, one of them has to change. It’s okay to change your working thesis to reflect things you have figured out in the course of writing your paper. Remember, always reassess and revise your writing as necessary.
• Does my thesis pass the “how and why?” test? If a reader’s first response is “how?” or “why?” your thesis may be too open-ended and lack guidance for the reader. See what you can add to give the reader a better take on your position right from the beginning.

Suppose you are taking a course on contemporary communication, and the instructor hands out the following essay assignment: “Discuss the impact of social media on public awareness.” Looking back at your notes, you might start with this working thesis:

Social media impacts public awareness in both positive and negative ways.

You can use the questions above to help you revise this general statement into a stronger thesis.

• Do I answer the question? You can analyze this if you rephrase “discuss the impact” as “what is the impact?” This way, you can see that you’ve answered the question only very generally with the vague “positive and negative ways.”
• Have I taken a position that others might challenge or oppose? Not likely. Only people who maintain that social media has a solely positive or solely negative impact could disagree.
• Is my thesis statement specific enough? No. What are the positive effects? What are the negative effects?
• Does my thesis pass the “how and why?” test? No. Why are they positive? How are they positive? What are their causes? Why are they negative? How are they negative? What are their causes?
• Does my thesis pass the “So what?” test? No. Why should anyone care about the positive and/or negative impact of social media?

After thinking about your answers to these questions, you decide to focus on the one impact you feel strongly about and have strong evidence for:

Because not every voice on social media is reliable, people have become much more critical consumers of information, and thus, more informed voters.

This version is a much stronger thesis! It answers the question, takes a specific position that others can challenge, and it gives a sense of why it matters.

Let’s try another. Suppose your literature professor hands out the following assignment in a class on the American novel: Write an analysis of some aspect of Mark Twain’s novel Huckleberry Finn. “This will be easy,” you think. “I loved Huckleberry Finn!” You grab a pad of paper and write:

Mark Twain’s Huckleberry Finn is a great American novel.

You begin to analyze your thesis:

• Do I answer the question? No. The prompt asks you to analyze some aspect of the novel. Your working thesis is a statement of general appreciation for the entire novel.

Think about aspects of the novel that are important to its structure or meaning—for example, the role of storytelling, the contrasting scenes between the shore and the river, or the relationships between adults and children. Now you write:

In Huckleberry Finn, Mark Twain develops a contrast between life on the river and life on the shore.

• Do I answer the question? Yes!
• Have I taken a position that others might challenge or oppose? Not really. This contrast is well-known and accepted.
• Is my thesis statement specific enough? It’s getting there–you have highlighted an important aspect of the novel for investigation. However, it’s still not clear what your analysis will reveal.
• Does my thesis pass the “how and why?” test? Not yet. Compare scenes from the book and see what you discover. Free write, make lists, jot down Huck’s actions and reactions and anything else that seems interesting.
• Does my thesis pass the “So what?” test? What’s the point of this contrast? What does it signify?”

After examining the evidence and considering your own insights, you write:

Through its contrasting river and shore scenes, Twain’s Huckleberry Finn suggests that to find the true expression of American democratic ideals, one must leave “civilized” society and go back to nature.

This final thesis statement presents an interpretation of a literary work based on an analysis of its content. Of course, for the essay itself to be successful, you must now present evidence from the novel that will convince the reader of your interpretation.

Works consulted

We consulted these works while writing this handout. This is not a comprehensive list of resources on the handout’s topic, and we encourage you to do your own research to find additional publications. Please do not use this list as a model for the format of your own reference list, as it may not match the citation style you are using. For guidance on formatting citations, please see the UNC Libraries citation tutorial . We revise these tips periodically and welcome feedback.

Anson, Chris M., and Robert A. Schwegler. 2010. The Longman Handbook for Writers and Readers , 6th ed. New York: Longman.

Lunsford, Andrea A. 2015. The St. Martin’s Handbook , 8th ed. Boston: Bedford/St Martin’s.

Ramage, John D., John C. Bean, and June Johnson. 2018. The Allyn & Bacon Guide to Writing , 8th ed. New York: Pearson.

Ruszkiewicz, John J., Christy Friend, Daniel Seward, and Maxine Hairston. 2010. The Scott, Foresman Handbook for Writers , 9th ed. Boston: Pearson Education.

You may reproduce it for non-commercial use if you use the entire handout and attribute the source: The Writing Center, University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill

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How to Use assertion in a Sentence

Some of these examples are programmatically compiled from various online sources to illustrate current usage of the word 'assertion.' Any opinions expressed in the examples do not represent those of Merriam-Webster or its editors. Send us feedback about these examples.

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Former U.S. Ambassador and National Security Council Official Admits to Secretly Acting as Agent of the Cuban Government and Receives 15-Year Sentence

Victor Manuel Rocha, 73, of Miami, a former U.S. Department of State employee who served on the National Security Council from 1994 to 1995 and as U.S. Ambassador to Bolivia from 2000 to 2002, pleaded guilty today to secretly acting for decades as an agent of the government of the Republic of Cuba. Immediately thereafter, a federal judge sentenced Rocha to the statutory maximum penalty of 15 years in prison.

“Today’s plea and sentencing brings to an end more than four decades of betrayal and deceit by the defendant,” said Assistant Attorney General Matthew G. Olsen of the Justice Department’s National Security Division. “Rocha admitted to acting as an agent of the Cuban government at the same time he held numerous positions of trust in the U.S. government, a staggering betrayal of the American people and an acknowledgement that every oath he took to the United States was a lie."

“Victor Manuel Rocha secretly acted for decades as an agent of a hostile foreign power. He thought the story of his covert mission for Cuba would never be told because he had the intelligence, knowledge, and discipline to never to be detected. Rocha underestimated those same skills in the prosecutors and law enforcement agents who worked tirelessly to bring him to justice for betraying his oath to this country,” said U.S. Attorney Markenzy Lapointe for the Southern District of Florida. “I am mindful that Rocha’s decades-long criminal activity on behalf of the Cuban Government is especially painful for many in South Florida. Rocha’s willingness to cooperate, as required by his plea agreement, is important, but does not change the seriousness of his misconduct or his clandestine breach of the trust placed in him. Rocha’s 15-year prison sentence, the maximum punishment for his crimes of conviction, sends a powerful message to those who are acting or seek to act unlawfully in the United States for a foreign government: we will seek you out anywhere, at any time, and prosecute you to the fullest extent of the law.”

U.S. District Court Judge Beth Bloom accepted Rocha’s guilty plea to counts 1 and 2 of the indictment, which charged him with conspiring to act as an agent of a foreign government and conspiring to defraud the United States and acting as an agent of a foreign government without notice as required by law.

The court then sentenced Rocha to the statutory maximum penalty on his counts of conviction: 15 years in prison, a $500,000 fine, three years of supervised release and a special assessment. The court also imposed significant restrictions on Rocha.

Under the terms of the parties’ plea agreement, Rocha must cooperate with the United States, including assisting with any damage assessment related to his work on behalf of the Republic of Cuba. Rocha must relinquish all future retirement benefits, including pension payments, owed to him by the United States based upon his former State Department employment. Rocha must also assign to the United States any profits that he may be entitled to receive in connection with any publication relating to his criminal conduct or his U.S. Government service.

“Despite swearing an oath to defend the Constitution of the United States, Rocha betrayed the U.S. by secretly working as a Cuban agent for decades,” said Executive Assistant Director Larissa L. Knapp of the FBI’s National Security Branch. “After years of lying and endangering national security and U.S. citizens, he finally accepted responsibility for his actions and received the maximum prison sentence. This should serve as a notice to our adversaries that the FBI will work tirelessly to stop foreign intelligence services and any who work with them against the interests of the United States and prosecute them to the fullest extent of the law.”

“Victor Manuel Rocha was sentenced to 15 years in prison today for deceiving our nation,” said Special Agent in Charge Jeffrey B. Veltri of the FBI Miami Field Office. “He blatantly violated the oath of office he willingly took as an employee of the State Department and disregarded the loyalty to the United States that is inherent with that oath. As this case demonstrates, the counterintelligence threat facing our nation is real, pervasive, and has the potential to cause great harm to our national security. I want to commend the U.S. Attorney’s Office for the Southern District of Florida for their close partnership on this highly sensitive matter. I also want to thank our Washington Field Office and our Counterintelligence Division, as well as the Department of Justice’s National Security Division and the Department of State’s Diplomatic Security Service for their valuable contributions to this case.”

“The investigation of this crime demonstrates the sustained threat from hostile intelligence services,” said Assistant Director for Domestic Operations Andrew Wroblewski of the U.S. Department of State’s Diplomatic Security Service (DSS). “Today’s guilty plea and sentencing are another example of our commitment to successfully work together with our federal law enforcement partners in the pursuit of those who compromise the security of the United States.”

In pleading guilty, Rocha admitted that, beginning in 1973, and continuing to the time of his arrest, he secretly supported the Republic of Cuba and its clandestine intelligence-gathering mission against the United States by serving as a covert agent of Cuba’s General Directorate of Intelligence.

By his own admission, to further that role, Rocha obtained employment at the U.S. Department of State, where he worked between 1981 and 2002, in positions that provided him access to nonpublic information, including classified information, and the ability to affect U.S. foreign policy. Aside from serving as the U.S. Ambassador to Bolivia and on the White House National Security Council, Rocha’s career included a stint as Deputy Principal Secretary of the State Department’s U.S. Interests Section in Havana, Cuba from 1995-97. After his State Department employment ended, Rocha engaged in other acts intended to support Cuba’s intelligence services.

Rocha kept his status as a Cuban agent secret to protect himself and others and to allow himself the opportunity to engage in additional clandestine activity. Rocha provided false and misleading information to the United States to maintain his secret mission and traveled outside the United States to meet with Cuban intelligence operatives.

In a series of meetings during 2022 and 2023, with an undercover FBI agent posing as a covert Cuban General Directorate of Intelligence representative, Rocha made repeated statements admitting his “decades” of work for Cuba, spanning “40 years.” When the undercover told Rocha he was “a covert representative here in Miami” whose mission was “to contact you, introduce myself as your new contact, and establish a new communication plan,” Rocha answered “Yes,” and proceeded to engage in lengthy conversations during which he described and celebrated his activity as a Cuban intelligence agent. Throughout the meetings, Rocha behaved as a Cuban agent, consistently referring to the United States as “the enemy,” and using the term “we” to describe himself and Cuba. Rocha additionally praised Fidel Castro as the “Comandante,” and referred to his contacts in Cuban intelligence as his “Compañeros” (comrades) and to the Cuban intelligence services as the “Dirección.” Rocha described his work as a Cuban agent as “enormous … More than a grand slam,” and asserted that what he did “strengthened the Revolution … immensely.”

The FBI Miami Field Office investigated the case, with valuable contributions by the FBI Washington Field Office and the U.S. Department of State’s Diplomatic Security Service (DSS).

Assistant U.S. Attorneys Jonathan D. Stratton and John C. Shipley for the Southern District of Florida and Trial Attorneys Heather M. Schmidt and Christine A. Bonomo of the National Security Division’s Counterintelligence and Export Control Section prosecuted the case.

Anyone with tips can call 1-800-CALL-FBI (800-225-5324) or visit tips.fbi.gov .

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Parents of Michigan school shooter Ethan Crumbley both sentenced to 10-15 years for involuntary manslaughter

PONTIAC, Mich. — The first parents to ever be charged , then convicted, in their child’s mass shooting at a U.S. school were both sentenced Tuesday to 10 to 15 years in prison after they faced the victims' families at a sentencing hearing in a Michigan courtroom.

James Crumbley, 47, and his wife, Jennifer, 46, were sentenced one after another by Circuit Court Judge Cheryl Matthews as they appeared together for the first time since they attended joint hearings before their landmark trials were separated last fall. Their son, Ethan, now 17, pleaded guilty as an adult to the 2021 shooting at Oxford High School in suburban Detroit and was sentenced to life in prison.

Matthews' sentencing decision was in line with what Oakland County prosecutors had asked for after both parents were found guilty on four counts of involuntary manslaughter, one for each of the students their son killed.

Matthews told the Crumbleys that the jury convictions were "not about poor parenting" but about how they repeatedly ignored warning signs that a "reasonable person" would have seen.

"These convictions confirm repeated acts that could have halted an oncoming runaway train," she said.

The couple will get credit for time served in an Oakland County jail since their arrests in the wake of the shooting on Nov. 30, 2021. The pair sat apart at the defense table with their lawyers beside them as the families of the four students who were killed asked before sentencing for the maximum terms to be imposed.

"When you texted, 'Ethan don't do it,'  I was texting, 'Madisyn I love you, please call mom,'" Nicole Beausoleil, the mother of shooting victim Madisyn Baldwin, 17, told the Crumbleys. "When you found out about the lives your son took that day, I was still waiting for my daughter in the parking lot.

"The lack of compassion you've shown is outright disgusting," she added through tears.

Jill Soave, the mother of another slain student, Justin Shilling, 17, said the parents' inaction on the day of the shooting "failed their son and failed us all."

Justin's father, Craig Shilling, said he was troubled by Jennifer Crumbley's testimony during her trial in which she said she would not have done anything differently, even today.

"The blood of our children is on your hands, too," Craig Shilling said.

James Crumbley wore an orange jumpsuit and headphones to help with his hearing, and Jennifer Crumbley wore a gray-and-white jumpsuit. He did not look at his wife, while she glanced in his direction.

In Michigan, prosecutors said, felonies that rise out of the same event must run concurrently, so the most Matthews could have imposed is 15 years in total. And while prosecutors wanted the parents to receive sentences that exceeded the advisory guideline range, Matthews had the ultimate discretion, weighing factors such as past criminal behavior and the circumstances of their crimes.

Before she was sentenced, Jennifer Crumbley told the court that she felt "deep remorse, regret and grief" about the shooting, but she also deflected some of the blame onto school officials and took offense to the prosecution's strategy portraying her as a neglectful mother .

"We were good parents," Crumbley said. "We were the average family. We weren't perfect, but we loved our son and each other tremendously."

James Crumbley also addressed the court, explaining to the judge that he did not know beforehand about his son's planned attack on his school and telling the victims' families directly that he would have acted differently on the day of the shooting.

"Please note that I am truly sorry for your loss as a result of what my son did," he said. "I cannot express how much I wish I had known what was going on with him or what was going to happen."

Matthews said during Tuesday's sentencing that the family would not be housed together and that the state Corrections Department has indicated James and Ethan Crumbley specifically will not be in the same facility given their relationship. Ethan is being held in a state prison 17 miles from Oxford High School. Jennifer Crumbley would be sent to the state's only women's prison.

James and Jennifer Crumbley have not been able to communicate as part of a no contact order since their arrests.

In both parents' cases, prosecutors wrote that their "gross negligence changed an entire community forever."

They both could have prevented the shooting with "tragically simple actions," prosecutors wrote, adding that they "failed to take any action when presented with the gravest of dangers."

Legal experts had suggested James Crumbley could have faced a harsher sentence than his wife after prosecutors said he made threats in jail.

During his trial, Matthews restricted his communication to only his lawyer and clergy.

The sentencing memo for James Crumbley referred to allegations that he made threats against the prosecutor and said that "his jail calls show a total lack of remorse" and that "he blames everyone but himself."

The memo details the expletive-ridden threats he is alleged to have directly addressed to the prosecutor on multiple recorded jail calls. In one call before the trial, he said, "Karen McDonald, you're going down," according to prosecutors. In other calls, he threatened retribution, they said.

James Crumbley’s lawyer, Mariell Lehman, wrote in court documents that the calls did not include threats to physically harm the prosecutor but that he expressed his desire to ensure that McDonald is not able to continue practicing law as a result of her actions in the case.

"It is clear Mr. Crumbley is venting to loved ones about his frustrations related to the lack of investigation done by the prosecution prior to authorizing charges," Lehman wrote, saying her client is understandably angry at his situation.

The prosecution's memo also says James Crumbley asserted his innocence in a pre-sentence report, indicating a lack of remorse.

"I feel horrible for what happened and would do anything to be able to go back in time and change it! But I can't. And I had nothing to do with what happened," he wrote, according to the prosecution memo. "I don't know why my son did what he did. HE is the only one who knows."

Lehman has not said whether she plans to appeal James Crumbley's verdict, while a lawyer for Jennifer Crumbley, Shannon Smith, has written that she will.

Two separate trials

James Crumbley did not take the stand during his trial. His wife testified that she placed the responsibility of securing the 9 mm semiautomatic handgun used in the shooting on her husband.

Asked whether she would have done anything differently, Jennifer Crumbley told jurors, "I don't think I'm a failure as a parent."

Prosecutors argued that she knew of her son's deteriorating mental health and social isolation and that he had access to a gun but that she cared more about her hobbies and carrying on an extramarital affair than about being present at home.

Her defense lawyer attempted to portray her as a caring mother, albeit one who did not know her son was capable of such violence — suggesting instead that his school failed to fully inform her of his troubles and that her husband was responsible for the weapon.

Smith continued to defend her client in her sentencing memo.

"Criticizing Mrs. Crumbley for being 'rarely home' is a sexist and misogynistic attack on a mother," Smith wrote.

In a pre-sentence report, Jennifer Crumbley said she has the hindsight now to know she would have handled things differently.

"With the information I have now, of course my answer would be hugely different," she said. "There are so many things that I would change if I could go back in time."

Both her and her husband's trials centered on the day of the shooting.

A day after Thanksgiving, prosecutors said, James Crumbley bought their son the handgun, while Jennifer Crumbley took him to a gun range that weekend.

On Tuesday, a teacher said she had found a note on Ethan's desk with a drawing of a gun and a person who had been shot, along with messages including: "The thoughts won't stop. Help me."

That discovery prompted the school to summon the parents for a meeting, but school officials testified that they declined to bring him home because they had to go back to work.

The officials also said that if the parents had informed them that their son had access to a gun, they would have been more authoritative to ensure immediate safety.

Ethan would go on to commit the school shooting later that afternoon, killing Baldwin; Shilling; Tate Myre, 16; and Hana St. Juliana, 14.

Victims' families want accountability

In the aftermath of the trials, the victims' families have demanded further accountability. They are seeking changes to governmental immunity laws that protect schools from being sued and want to see a requirement for independent reviews after any mass shooting.

Oakland County prosecutors have said they do not plan to charge anyone else in connection with the massacre.

Buck Myre, the father of Tate Myre, said during Tuesday's sentencing that families still want a government-led investigation.

"It's time to drive real change from this tragedy," he told the judge.

Later, James Crumbley stood and addressed Buck Myre directly when he was given the chance to speak.

"It is time that we all know the truth," he said. "I, too, want the truth, because you have not had it."

Selina Guevara and Maggie Vespa reported from Pontiac and Erik Ortiz from New York.

Selina Guevara is an NBC News associate producer, based in Chicago.

NBC News Correspondent

Erik Ortiz is a senior reporter for NBC News Digital focusing on racial injustice and social inequality.

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Parents of Michigan School Shooter Sentenced to 10 to 15 Years in Prison

Jennifer and James Crumbley, whose son killed four people, each faced up to 15 years in prison for involuntary manslaughter convictions.

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By Jacey Fortin and Anna Betts

Jennifer and James Crumbley, who were convicted of involuntary manslaughter for failing to prevent their teenage son from killing four fellow students in the deadliest school shooting in Michigan’s history, were each sentenced on Tuesday to 10 to 15 years in prison.

Their separate jury trials ended in guilty verdicts in February and March , making them the first parents in the country to be convicted over the deaths caused by their child in a mass shooting.

Involuntary manslaughter charges carry a penalty in Michigan of up to 15 years in prison, and prosecutors asked in sentencing memos filed to the court last week that the Crumbleys each serve at least 10 years. Both have been in jail for more than two years while awaiting trial and will receive credit for time served.

“Parents are not expected to be psychic,” Judge Cheryl Matthews of the Oakland County Circuit Court in Pontiac, Mich., said before issuing the sentence. “But these convictions are not about poor parenting. These convictions confirm repeated acts or lack of acts that could have halted an oncoming runaway train — repeatedly ignoring things that would make a reasonable person feel the hair on the back of her neck stand up.”

Before the hearing, prosecutors said that Ms. Crumbley, 46, was asking to be sentenced to house arrest on her defense lawyer’s property, rather than serving prison time. And Mr. Crumbley, 47, said that he had been wrongly convicted and his sentence should amount to the time he had already served in prison, adding that he felt “absolutely horrible” about what had happened.

On Tuesday, each of them spoke in the hearing before the judge pronounced sentence.

“I stand today not to ask for your forgiveness, as I know it may be beyond reach, but to express my sincerest apologies for the pain that has been caused,” Ms. Crumbley said in court, addressing the relatives of students who were killed.

Mr. Crumbley also apologized. “I cannot express how much I wish that I had known what was going on with him or what was going to happen, because I absolutely would have done a lot of things differently,” he said.

Relatives of some of the victims also spoke during the hearing, describing the overwhelming effects the shooting had on their lives.

“The ripple effects of both James’s and Jennifer’s failures to act have devastated us all,” said Jill Soave, the mother of Justin Shilling, 17, who was killed in the shooting at Oxford High School on Nov. 30, 2021. “This tragedy was completely preventable. If only they had done something, your honor, anything, to shift the course events on Nov. 30, then our four angels would be here today.”

Steve St. Juliana, whose daughter, Hana, 14, was killed, said that the Crumbleys continued to fail to take responsibility for what had happened.

“They chose to stay quiet,” he said. “They chose to ignore the warning signs. And now, as we’ve heard through all of the objections, they continue to choose to blame everyone but themselves.”

The Crumbleys’ son, Ethan, was 15 when he carried out the shooting that killed Justin and Hana, as well as Madisyn Baldwin, 17, and Tate Myre, 16. Seven others were injured. Ethan Crumbley pleaded guilty to 24 charges, including first-degree murder, and was sentenced last year to life in prison without parole . He is still eligible to appeal that decision. His parents may appeal, too.

In the trials of both parents, prosecutors focused in part on their failure to remove their son from school after he made a violent drawing on the morning of the shooting. It included a written plea for help.

They also emphasized Ethan’s access to a handgun that Mr. Crumbley had purchased. And they said that Ms. Crumbley had missed signs that her son was struggling with his mental health, adding that she took him to a gun range just days before the shooting.

Defense lawyers for both parents said they could not have foreseen the unspeakable violence their son would commit.

Ms. Crumbley grew up in Clarkston, a Detroit suburb about 20 minutes from Oxford, her lawyer said during a hearing after the couple’s arrest in 2021 . Before her arrest, she had worked as a marketing director, her lawyer said.

Mr. Crumbley’s job history included work at a handful of small software and technology companies.

The couple once lived in Florida but returned to Michigan several years ago, their lawyers said. They bought their home near downtown Oxford in 2015.

The trials of Jennifer and James Crumbley became a lightning rod for issues of parental responsibility at a time of high-profile gun violence by minors. In recent months, parents in other states have pleaded guilty to charges of reckless conduct or neglect after their children injured or killed others with guns.

But the manslaughter charges against the Crumbleys were unique, and legal experts said their trials could serve as a playbook for other prosecutors who seek to hold parents accountable in the future.

Ekow Yankah, a professor at the University of Michigan Law School, said the effect of the ruling on Tuesday might be felt beyond the state.

“This is going to be precedent, most obviously in Michigan and its home jurisdiction, but prosecutors all over the country will see this as a new and viable form of liability,” Mr. Yankah said. “I think we should not underestimate the precedential power of this case, even as we recognize that the facts were quite extraordinary.”

For Matthew Schneider, a former United States attorney in Michigan, what makes this case so different from many others is that most criminal sentences are related to the actions of a defendant, rather than being “about inactions, and how the inactions of a person result in a criminal sentence.”

The sentencing is “very much about making an example of the defendants,” Mr. Schneider said. “This is a shot across the bow to all parents, to all people who have firearms in their house, to keep them locked up, if they could be in the hands of the wrong people.”

Jacey Fortin covers a wide range of subjects for the National desk of The Times, including extreme weather, court cases and state politics all across the country. More about Jacey Fortin

Anna Betts reports on national events, including politics, education, and natural or man-made disasters, among other things. More about Anna Betts

Live Blog: Sentence handed down to Jennifer, James Crumbley

Pontiac — The parents of the Oxford High School shooter were sentenced 10 to 15 years in prison Tuesday , drawing to a close historic criminal proceedings that marked the first time a father and mother of a mass school shooter had not just been charged but convicted of manslaughter in connection to their child's crime.

James and Jennifer Crumbley faced a maximum of 15 years in prison for their gross negligence in the 2021 shooting at Oxford High School carried out by their son, Ethan. The sentence was in line with what prosecutors had sought.

More: Parents of Oxford High School shooter sentenced to 10-15 years in historic case

Prosecutor addresses court

Oakland County Prosecutor Karen McDonald said it was not true that the Crumbleys were left in the dark about their son's challenges. She referenced texts from the shooter about seeing things in the house, Jennifer telling his friend’s mother he was depressed and the shooter telling his friend he asked for help and was denied. 

McDonald said the Crumbleys have not shown remorse and accountability. The victims wanted them to say that they messed up and should’ve taken different actions, she said.

“Jennifer Crumbley and James Crumbley were not convicted based on a narrative,” McDonald said. “They were not convicted because somebody thought they were a bad parent.”

She again called out the Crumbleys' negligence and the suggestion that they are victims. She urged Matthews to even exceed the guidelines.

“They do nothing, and then they come here today and they claim they’re victims of the school, of the prosecution, of the emotional tensions of public opinion,” McDonald said. 

'There are no winners here'

Mariell Lehman, James' attorney, maintained that the gun used in the shooting was stored legally, with the gun and ammunition stored separately.

She also touched on the testimony of the shooter's counselor and the school's dean of students at the time, who said they didn't believe Ethan posed a threat to other people, even with their specialized knowledge and training to recognize warning signs.

“Even those individuals said they did not believe that his son was a threat to other people," said Lehman.

She said whatever Matthews decides, "there are no winners here. Everyone has lost."

Judge Cheryl Matthews seemed to agree, repeating what was said in an earlier memo: "It's possible to be sad for everyone here."

James Crumbley addresses court

Speaking for the first time in court, James addressed the parents' whose children were fatally shot by his son on November 30, 2021, saying his heart is "broken" for everyone involved.

James said he's cried "for your children more times than I can count," he said. "I know your pain and loss will never go away."

"I can’t express how much I wish that I had known what was going on with him (the shooter) or what was going to happen," he said. "I absolutely what have done a lot of things differently."

He asked Matthews for a "just and fair" sentence "based on the truth." He asked for time served with a GPS tether.

“I know the full amount of pressure that you have on you and the responsibility that has been placed on you during this case,” James said, addressing Matthews. “I’m simply going to ask you sentence me in a fair and just way.” 

He also called for the "truth" to be presented to the victims' families.

"It is time that we all know the truth. We have been prohibited from telling the whole truth," he said. "The whole truth has not been told. And I’m with you, Mr. Myre. I too want the truth. Because you have not had it, you have not had the truth at all. The truth has not been presented to you.” 

A 'damned' mother

Shannon Smith addressed how Jennifer has been "damned" in the court of public opinion, portrayed as a mother who was negligent but she was, and is, a caring person.

“(Jennifer) was not the person who was responsible for storing the gun and believed it was being stored properly and that it was locked,” Smith said.

Jennifer Crumbley addresses the court

Jennifer Crumbley expressed her "deepest sorrow" to the victims, acknowledging that there was nothing she could do to ease the victims' pain and suffering. She talked about grief and the "anguish and shame" she feels for her son's action.

"I will be in my own internal prison for the rest of my life," she said.

She also explained the statement she made during her trial that she wouldn't have done anything differently during the trial. She said she said it was misunderstood.

“With the benefit of hindsight and what I know now, my answer would be different,” Jennifer said.

She touched on what school officials said to her and James the morning of the shooting and how they testified that they didn't view her son as a threat. She also contended that the school never asked her and James to take the shooter home that day.

Jennifer also touched on finding faith and praying.

"One day you can wake up and everything can change," she said.

And she maintained that she and James were good parents and wanted their son to have everything he needed.

"We weren't perfect, but we loved our son," she said.

She maintained that what happened to her as a parent could happen to anyone.

"Ethan could be your child, your grandchild," she said.

Tate Myre's family addresses Crumbley

Buck Myre, whose son, Tate Myre, was fatally shot, said he was fighting for everyone in the courtroom room to protect their rights.

“This tragedy has taken an incredible toll on our family,” Myre said, his voice rising with emotion. “So our family isn’t going to give the Crumbley family a second of our time up here.”

Myre said it’s time to turn their focus to Oxford schools, who played a role in the tragedy.

"It's time to drive real change from this tragedy," he said.

Hana St. Juliana's father, sister speak in court

Steve St. Juliana, whose daughter, Hana, was fatally shot in 2021, said his daughter's death has destroyed a large part of his soul.

"Every day is a battle," he said, detailing everything he won't experience with his daughter, from graduation to marriage. "...I mourn all of the memories that will never be."

He said the Crumbleys "continue to choose to blame everyone but themselves."

“Hana, Tate, Madisyn and Justin are the ones who have lost everything,” St. Juliana said. “Not the defendants.” 

Reina St. Juliana, Hana's older sister, said her sister's life had only started. She called her a "light for so many others."

“She took her last breath in her own pool of blood in a school she hadn’t even been in for three months,” Reina said. 

Reina said the Crumbleys did fail as parents.

"Both of you,” Reina said. “Your mistakes created our everlasting nightmare.”

She said after the Crumbleys serve their sentences, she said she hoped they would live their lives more like Hana, "loving unconditionally."

Justin Shilling's parents address Crumbleys

Jill Soave, the mother of Justin Shilling, another student who died, said the ripple effects of James and Jennifer’s failures to act has touched everyone. She said her son was brave, kind and inclusive to all. He was full of love and joy and his future was so bright and full of possibilities.

Soave detailed all the "if only" choices the Crumbleys faced: getting their son counseling rather than buying him a gun; taking him home on the day of the shooting rather than leaving him; and not checking his backpack that day.

She said if they'd made different choices, "I wouldn't be standing here today."

"You have failed your son and failed us all," said Soave, calling for the maximum sentence for both parents.

Craig Shilling, Justin’s father, also called for the maximum sentence. He spoke wearing a sweatshirt with Justin’s smiling face on it. He said every aspect of his life has been impacted by the shooting.

“The wounds are still as fresh as they were that tragic day,” Shilling said. “I fight every day to not lose more of myself in that hole.”

He said the Crumbleys failed in their parental responsibilities and "did nothing" to address their son's deteriorating mental state. They also gave him what he wanted, a gun, and failed to secure it.

Shilling said he "almost died" when he heard Jennifer say during her trial that she wouldn't have done anything differently leading up to the shooting.

"Four precious lives were lost at the hands of her son...," he said. "The blood of our children is on your hands too."

Madisyn Baldwin's mom speaks

Nicole Beausoleil — the mother of Madisyn Baldwin, 17, who also was shot at Oxford High School — said her daughter lit up the room when she walked in and she had an infectious laugh. She said Madisyn had an influence that most would never achieve.

"The passion that she had for everything and everyone was remarkable," she said.

Beausoleil said her mind keeps going back to the moment when Jennifer testified that she wouldn’t do anything different.

“While your son was hearing voices and asking for help, I was helping Madisyn pick out her senior classes. While you were purchasing a gun for your son and leaving it unlocked, I was helping her finish her college essays,” Beausoleil said. “When you left without hesitation and not taking him home, I was worried if she’d be OK driving in her first snowfall of the season and if she brought a coat.”

When the Crumbleys were on the phone with each other, trying to figure out where the gun was, Beausoleil said she was on the phone with Madisyn’s father and family, trying to figure out where she was.

"The one thing I would've wanted to be different was to take that bullet that day," she said. "...You show no remorse, no respect, no compassion for our family."

Beausoleil said the Crumbleys failed as parents and asked Circuit Judge Cheryl Matthews to give them the maximum because of the "life sentence" she'll face without her daughter.

"The punishment that you face will never be enough," she said.

Threats to prosecutor

Mariell Lehman, James' attorney, denied her client was threatening Oakland County Prosecutor Karen McDonald in calls he made from the Oakland County Jail over the last seven months in which he called her expletives and said she was "going down."

"He never threatened harm," Lehman said.

But Oakland County Assistant Prosecuting Attorney Marc Keast rejected the notion James wasn't threatening McDonald. He also read some of the threats, noting that James knew the calls were being recorded.

“I don’t know any other purpose for what James Crumbley did other than to interfere with the administration of justice,” Keast said. “Rarely do we see the defendant threatening the prosecutor, let alone the trial team, let alone the elected prosecutor.” 

When Keast read James’ threats into the record, Jennifer glanced at James, shook her head and rolled her eyes. 

False narrative about Crumbleys' arrest?

Shannon Smith, Jennifer's attorney, accused prosecutors of continuing to use a "false narrative" that the Crumbleys were running from police before their arrest in early December 2021. She also accused the media of repeating that narrative "over and over and over again." They were arrested in a warehouse in Detroit, laying on a mattress and with $6,000 in cash.

"I can’t control the media," said Judge Cheryl Matthews. "Trust me."

Still, Smith called out prosecutors for how they handled the couple's arrest.

"It's complete garbage that the prosecution has been able to carry this narrative out through trial," she said.

But Matthews said prosecutors had no obligation to alert the Crumbleys of the charges.

Prosecutors "do not have to make arrangements with you (to turn the defendants in),” Matthews said. “The defendants were aware and did not turn themselves in. … They  brought this circus to the city of Detroit. They did.” 

Separate acts or one act

Attorneys for Jennifer and James raised several questions about the scoring for the sentencing guidelines outlined in a presentence report and whether the shooting in 2021 was one act or four separate acts.

"This is one act that resulted in four deaths," said Lehman, James' attorney. "I'm not trying to minimize that those students were killed" but it was one act... "There aren't four separate acts of gross negligence."

But several times, Matthews said she believed the report was accurate.

Matthews said she believes James and Jennifer weren't charged for their son's actions, but rather, "they were charged with everything they did and didn’t do up until the moment he used that weapon."

Scoring guidelines too high?

Smith, Jennifer's attorney, argued that prosecutors are scoring the sentencing guidelines too high. Both Crumbleys were given points for multiple victims, but Jennifer had no impact on how many people her son shot, Smith said.

Smith repeatedly reiterated there are no previous cases to guide them on how to sentence parents for their child's mass shooting.

"At the end of the day, Mrs. Crumbley shouldn't be sentenced as if she could control that four people were murdered, or if she had shot 100 people."

“The guidelines don’t take into account a situation like this,” Smith said. 

Oakland County Assistant Prosecuting Attorney Marc Keast disagreed and said the "statute is extremely clear, four separate counts," for the four students killed.

"They don’t get to have a scoring of zero as if three children weren’t killed," he said.

Matthews agreed with Keast, saying each victim should be counted as a separate act. 

No contact order

Smith, Jennifer's attorney, raised questions about a proposed no contact order in the presentence report that would prohibit Jennifer and James from having contact with one another and their son, Ethan.

"This is a family," Smith said. "Despite even having felonies on their records, they have a constitutional right to be a family unless the prosecution can articulate a reason that is valid and surpasses a certain standard to disrupt the family from being able to have contact with each other."

Matthews said traditionally, codefendants are not housed together in prison. She said the Michigan Department of Corrections would treat James and the shooter as enemies and would not house them together.

Keast said they are asking for the defendants to be treated like any other defendants, and to not allow contact because they are codefendants.

Matthews said she did not see a reason for a no contact order and agreed to hold on making a decision on one.

Alleged inaccuracies in presentencing reports

Attorneys for both parents raised issues about alleged inaccuracies in the presentencing reports, one about James having mental health issues and another about Jennifer never being home.

“It’s very obvious that probation did not sit through trial and hear all the evidence that came out in trial. There is a number of mistakes and it is so biased,” said Smith, Jennifer's attorney, referring to the narrative of the crime in the presentence report. 

Keast said he believed the reports were accurate.

History of substance abuse

A presentence investigation noted both James and Jennifer had issues with drug and alcohol abuse.

Mariell Lehman, James' attorney, said the presentencing report was inaccurate and that he didn't have a substance abuse issue.

Matthews noted that the investigation found that he used marijuana daily and also had issues with alcohol.

Matthews amended the report to note that Jennifer did not have a drug problem.

Defendants in courtroom

Shortly before proceedings began just after 9:15 a.m., James and Jennifer were brought into the courtroom, both in jail uniforms and handcuffs.

The couple, who've been barred from having contact with one another, made no eye contact. Jennifer did look at James, but he didn't look at her.

Who will deliver sentence?

Matthews, who presided over each parent's trial, will deliver their sentences. Victims impact statements will be read in court before the sentence is handed down.

Separate juries found each parent guilty of four counts of involuntary manslaughter earlier this year for the deaths of four students shot by their son at Oxford High School in 2021: Madisyn Baldwin, 17; Tate Myre, 16; Justin Shilling, 17; and Hana St. Juliana, 14.

Families in courtroom

Families of all four victims were in court Tuesday morning: Steve and Reina St. Juliana; Craig Shilling; Buck and Sheri Myre; and Nicole Beausoleil, Madisyn's mom. Krystyna Baldwin, Baldwin's stepmom, also was in court.

Shilling wore a sweatshirt with his son's photo on it. Buck Myre wore a shirt with a name for the peer counseling foundation, 42 Strong, his family created in Tate's memory.

Sentencing memorandums

Oakland County prosecutors portrayed the Crumbleys as grossly negligent parents who not only ignored their son Ethan's spiraling mental health before the 2021 shooting, but bought him a gun, which wasn't securely stored. In their sentencing memorandums for both parents, they also said the Crumbleys have shown little remorse.

Attorneys for Jennifer, 46, and James, 47, meanwhile, are calling for time served. The Crumbleys have been held at the Oakland County Jail since their arrest in December 2021, days after the shooting.

Ethan is already serving a life sentence without the chance of parole after he pleaded guilty and was sentenced in December of 2023. He's now at the Thumb Correctional Facility in Lapeer.

How will James' threats will factor into sentencing

In calls made from Oakland County Jail, James called Oakland County Prosecutor Prosecutor Karen McDonald expletives and said she was "going down." Prosecutors delved into the alleged threats in their sentencing memorandum.

But Lehman, James' attorney, said the calls weren't threats, but her client venting his frustration over the lack of an investigation before he and his wife were charged.

Come back to The Detroit News for more on this developing story.

More: After historic convictions, will James and Jennifer Crumbley get maximum penalty?

More: Jennifer Crumbley asks for time served; attorney says case was 'no-win situation'

More: Attorney: James Crumbley didn't threaten prosecutor, he was 'venting to loved ones'

• International

Mississippi's "Goon Squad" sentenced

By Emma Tucker , Aditi Sangal and Tori B. Powell , CNN

The "Goon Squad" was sentenced on state charges today. Catch up on the key details

The six former Mississippi law enforcement officers , who are members of the self-styled “Goon Squad,” received state sentences Wednesday ranging from 15 and 45 years. They had pleaded guilty in August to charges stemming from the January 2023 torture and abuse of two Black men.

Here's what you need to know:

The sentence: All of the state sentences are to run concurrently with their federal sentences.

• Brett McAlpin: State court sentenced him to 20 years after federal court gave him 27 1/4 years in prison.
• Jeffrey Middleton: State court sentenced him to 20 years after federal court gave him 17 1/2 years.
• Daniel Opdyke: State court sentenced him to 20 years after federal court gave him 17 1/2 years.
• Christian Dedmon: State court sentenced him to 25 years after federal court gave him 40 years.
• Hunter Elward: State court sentenced him to 45 years after federal court gave him 20 years.
• Joshua Hartfield: State court sentenced him to 15 years after federal court gave him 10 years

Victim statements: Malik Shabazz, attorney for victims Michael Jenkins and Eddie Park, read their statements in court.

• Michael Jenkins: "Your honor, they killed me. I just didn't die," he said in his statement . He also described how the actions of the former officers have affected his life. "I am a musician and a signer, and now because of the gunshot wound that shattered my jaw, I can no longer do what I love, and that's sing," he said, adding that he sometimes wakes up at night covered in sweat due to nightmares about what happened. "I'm broken inside, and I don't think I will ever be the person I was."
• Eddie Parker: “I never knew the ones that were sworn to protect and serve would be the ones that needed protection from," the statement read . "The humiliation and embarrassment from the sexual assault is too great for me to talk about. Therefore, I am in therapy now and for the future.”

Reaction to the sentences: Shabazz said today's sentencing is "significant," but added that he still hoped the former officers received more time. He noted that the judge departed from the initial recommendations of "low" prison sentences for the squad, and in doing so " set a new standard here in Rankin County, that police brutality will not be tolerated in Rankin County."

Victim's parents react to sentencing: "Now people's eyes are open"

From CNN's Tori B. Powell and Emma Tucker in Brandon, Mississippi

Melvin Jenkins, the father of victim Michael Jenkins, called the sentencing of six officers who pleaded guilty to torturing and abusing his son and another Black man "a monumental day."

He said their son's story has inspired others to speak out against injustice.

"I know several people today who are afraid still to come out because of retaliation against them," he said Wednesday at a news conference. "I'd like to thank the judges, the lawyers and you people for making this nationwide."

Michael's mother, Mary Jenkins, called on people to speak out about the "Goon Squad" and their actions.

"Please don’t condone what they’re doing. Let them know you don’t want this Goon Squad representing them," she told CNN.

She said she is happy about the sentencing.

"I’m glad they got as much time as they did," she said. "This has never happened in Mississippi before and now people's eyes are open."

"Goon Squad" member Daniel Opdyke takes full responsibility for his "wrongful actions," attorney says

From CNN's Emma Tucker in Brandon, Mississippi

Daniel Opdyke, one of six former Mississippi officers sentenced today , “has admitted and taken full responsibility for what wrongful actions and inactions he was guilty of that night,” his attorney Jeff Reynolds told CNN after Wednesday's hearing.

During Opdyke’s federal sentencing hearing last month, it was revealed that he was the officer who turned over the text messages from the “Goon Squad” group chat, which was on the encrypted messaging service WhatsApp, to the federal government on April 12, 2023.

“The Feds themselves admitted in their downward departure motion filed in federal court that these texts played a vital role in the procurement of the guilty pleas of the other five officers,” Reynolds told CNN. “Without the texts and Daniel’s early cooperation, who knows where we would be right now? The Goon Squad might still be corruptly abusing people in Rankin County.”

NAACP official wants DOJ to examine the Rankin County Sheriff's Department and "clean house"

The Rankin County NAACP president Angela English said the chapter has spoken to the Department of Justice about "a clean sweep" of the county's sheriff's department.

"This chapter of the book has been written, but the book is not finished," she said after the sentencing of six "Goon Squad" members for abusing and torturing two Black men.

"We have, in leadership, the sheriff who we consider the leader of the Goon Squad. So we are going to continue our fight to remove him from office. We have spoken with the Department of Justice. We have reiterated that we want a clean sweep. We want them to go throughout the Rankin County Sheriff's Department and we want them to clean house. We want them to go into the jails and reopen all of these cases that these lawless officers have created. The lives of these people who are still in jail have been ruined by this," he said.

Victims' attorney says he hoped for longer sentences for "Goon Squad" members

From CNN's Tori B. Powell

While attorney Malik Shabazz said today's sentencing is "significant," he still said he hoped the officers who pleaded guilty to charges stemming from the January 2023 torture and abuse of two Black men received more time.

"Yes, we would have preferred that a couple of more years of extra time were added to the defendants' sentences," he said Wednesday at a news conference. "However, we respect the judgement of this court. We respect the wisdom of this court and Mississippi has spoken here."

The six officers each received additional prison sentences ranging from 15 to 45 years Wednesday in state court. All of their state sentences are to run concurrently with their federal sentences.

Shabazz also spoke about the impact the crimes had on his clients.

"When you conduct acts of sexual depravity that is designed to take advantage of the victims can take years or a lifetime to recover. I mean can you imagine being captured by these six criminals in this house and them torturing and abusing you?" he told CNN.

Today is a "day we've long awaited," attorney for the victims says

From CNN's Aditi Sangal

Today "is a day we've long awaited," attorney Malik Shabazz said after six White former Mississippi officers were sentenced in state court for torturing and abusing his clients Eddie Parker and Michael Jenkins.

The court has "given out justice," Shabazz said.

In departing from the initial recommendations of "low" prison sentences for the squad, the judge "set a new standard here in Rankin County, that police brutality will not be tolerated in Rankin County," Shabazz said.

Jenkins also reacted to the sentencing, telling reporters that it's been "a long time coming."

CNN's Emma Tucker contributed reporting to this post.

Sixth member of "Goon Squad" sentenced to 15 years by state court  

The sixth of six former Mississippi law enforcement officers who pleaded guilty to charges stemming from the January 2023 torture and abuse of two Black men was sentenced in state court on Wednesday to 15 years in prison. The hearing is now complete.  

Joshua Hartfield was sentenced to 15 years to run concurrently with his federal sentence.  

Remember: The six White officers — Rankin County Sheriff’s deputies Hunter Elward, Brett McAlpin, Christian Dedmon, Daniel Opdyke, Jeffrey Middleton, and former Richland Police Department officer Joshua Hartfield – received federal prison sentences last month ranging from 10 to 40 years.  

Fifth "Goon Squad" member sentenced to 20 years

The fifth of six former Mississippi law enforcement officers who pleaded guilty to charges stemming from the January 2023 torture and abuse of two Black men was sentenced in state court on Wednesday to 20 years in prison.

The hearing is ongoing.  

On Wednesday, Daniel Opdyke was sentenced to 20 years to run concurrently with his federal sentence.  

The six White officers – Rankin County Sheriff’s deputies Hunter Elward, Brett McAlpin, Christian Dedmon, Daniel Opdyke, Jeffrey Middleton, and former Richland Police Department officer Joshua Hartfield – received federal prison sentences last month ranging from 10 to 40 years.  

Fourth member of the "Goon Squad" sentenced to 45 years

The fourth of six former Mississippi law enforcement officers who pleaded guilty to charges stemming from the January 2023 torture and abuse of two Black men was sentenced in state court on Wednesday to 45 years in prison. The hearing is ongoing.

On Wednesday, Hunter Elward was sentenced to 45 years to run concurrently with his federal sentence. 

Remember: The six White officers — Rankin County Sheriff’s deputies Hunter Elward, Brett McAlpin, Christian Dedmon, Daniel Opdyke, Jeffrey Middleton, and former Richland Police Department officer Joshua Hartfield – received federal prison sentences last month ranging from 10 to 40 years. 

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• Knowledge Base
• How to write an essay introduction | 4 steps & examples

How to Write an Essay Introduction | 4 Steps & Examples

Published on February 4, 2019 by Shona McCombes . Revised on July 23, 2023.

A good introduction paragraph is an essential part of any academic essay . It sets up your argument and tells the reader what to expect.

The main goals of an introduction are to:

• Catch your reader’s attention.
• Give background on your topic.
• Present your thesis statement —the central point of your essay.

This introduction example is taken from our interactive essay example on the history of Braille.

The invention of Braille was a major turning point in the history of disability. The writing system of raised dots used by visually impaired people was developed by Louis Braille in nineteenth-century France. In a society that did not value disabled people in general, blindness was particularly stigmatized, and lack of access to reading and writing was a significant barrier to social participation. The idea of tactile reading was not entirely new, but existing methods based on sighted systems were difficult to learn and use. As the first writing system designed for blind people’s needs, Braille was a groundbreaking new accessibility tool. It not only provided practical benefits, but also helped change the cultural status of blindness. This essay begins by discussing the situation of blind people in nineteenth-century Europe. It then describes the invention of Braille and the gradual process of its acceptance within blind education. Subsequently, it explores the wide-ranging effects of this invention on blind people’s social and cultural lives.

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Table of contents

Step 1: hook your reader, step 2: give background information, step 3: present your thesis statement, step 4: map your essay’s structure, step 5: check and revise, more examples of essay introductions, other interesting articles, frequently asked questions about the essay introduction.

Your first sentence sets the tone for the whole essay, so spend some time on writing an effective hook.

Avoid long, dense sentences—start with something clear, concise and catchy that will spark your reader’s curiosity.

The hook should lead the reader into your essay, giving a sense of the topic you’re writing about and why it’s interesting. Avoid overly broad claims or plain statements of fact.

Examples: Writing a good hook

Take a look at these examples of weak hooks and learn how to improve them.

• Braille was an extremely important invention.
• The invention of Braille was a major turning point in the history of disability.

The first sentence is a dry fact; the second sentence is more interesting, making a bold claim about exactly  why the topic is important.

• The internet is defined as “a global computer network providing a variety of information and communication facilities.”
• The spread of the internet has had a world-changing effect, not least on the world of education.

Avoid using a dictionary definition as your hook, especially if it’s an obvious term that everyone knows. The improved example here is still broad, but it gives us a much clearer sense of what the essay will be about.

• Mary Shelley’s  Frankenstein is a famous book from the nineteenth century.
• Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein is often read as a crude cautionary tale about the dangers of scientific advancement.

Instead of just stating a fact that the reader already knows, the improved hook here tells us about the mainstream interpretation of the book, implying that this essay will offer a different interpretation.

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Next, give your reader the context they need to understand your topic and argument. Depending on the subject of your essay, this might include:

• Historical, geographical, or social context
• An outline of the debate you’re addressing
• A summary of relevant theories or research about the topic
• Definitions of key terms

The information here should be broad but clearly focused and relevant to your argument. Don’t give too much detail—you can mention points that you will return to later, but save your evidence and interpretation for the main body of the essay.

How much space you need for background depends on your topic and the scope of your essay. In our Braille example, we take a few sentences to introduce the topic and sketch the social context that the essay will address:

Now it’s time to narrow your focus and show exactly what you want to say about the topic. This is your thesis statement —a sentence or two that sums up your overall argument.

This is the most important part of your introduction. A  good thesis isn’t just a statement of fact, but a claim that requires evidence and explanation.

The goal is to clearly convey your own position in a debate or your central point about a topic.

Particularly in longer essays, it’s helpful to end the introduction by signposting what will be covered in each part. Keep it concise and give your reader a clear sense of the direction your argument will take.

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As you research and write, your argument might change focus or direction as you learn more.

For this reason, it’s often a good idea to wait until later in the writing process before you write the introduction paragraph—it can even be the very last thing you write.

When you’ve finished writing the essay body and conclusion , you should return to the introduction and check that it matches the content of the essay.

It’s especially important to make sure your thesis statement accurately represents what you do in the essay. If your argument has gone in a different direction than planned, tweak your thesis statement to match what you actually say.

To polish your writing, you can use something like a paraphrasing tool .

You can use the checklist below to make sure your introduction does everything it’s supposed to.

Checklist: Essay introduction

My first sentence is engaging and relevant.

I have introduced the topic with necessary background information.

I have defined any important terms.

My thesis statement clearly presents my main point or argument.

Everything in the introduction is relevant to the main body of the essay.

You have a strong introduction - now make sure the rest of your essay is just as good.

• Argumentative
• Literary analysis

This introduction to an argumentative essay sets up the debate about the internet and education, and then clearly states the position the essay will argue for.

The spread of the internet has had a world-changing effect, not least on the world of education. The use of the internet in academic contexts is on the rise, and its role in learning is hotly debated. For many teachers who did not grow up with this technology, its effects seem alarming and potentially harmful. This concern, while understandable, is misguided. The negatives of internet use are outweighed by its critical benefits for students and educators—as a uniquely comprehensive and accessible information source; a means of exposure to and engagement with different perspectives; and a highly flexible learning environment.

This introduction to a short expository essay leads into the topic (the invention of the printing press) and states the main point the essay will explain (the effect of this invention on European society).

In many ways, the invention of the printing press marked the end of the Middle Ages. The medieval period in Europe is often remembered as a time of intellectual and political stagnation. Prior to the Renaissance, the average person had very limited access to books and was unlikely to be literate. The invention of the printing press in the 15th century allowed for much less restricted circulation of information in Europe, paving the way for the Reformation.

This introduction to a literary analysis essay , about Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein , starts by describing a simplistic popular view of the story, and then states how the author will give a more complex analysis of the text’s literary devices.

Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein is often read as a crude cautionary tale. Arguably the first science fiction novel, its plot can be read as a warning about the dangers of scientific advancement unrestrained by ethical considerations. In this reading, and in popular culture representations of the character as a “mad scientist”, Victor Frankenstein represents the callous, arrogant ambition of modern science. However, far from providing a stable image of the character, Shelley uses shifting narrative perspectives to gradually transform our impression of Frankenstein, portraying him in an increasingly negative light as the novel goes on. While he initially appears to be a naive but sympathetic idealist, after the creature’s narrative Frankenstein begins to resemble—even in his own telling—the thoughtlessly cruel figure the creature represents him as.

If you want to know more about AI tools , college essays , or fallacies make sure to check out some of our other articles with explanations and examples or go directly to our tools!

• Ad hominem fallacy
• Post hoc fallacy
• Appeal to authority fallacy
• False cause fallacy
• Sunk cost fallacy

College essays

• Choosing Essay Topic
• Write a College Essay
• Write a Diversity Essay
• College Essay Format & Structure
• Comparing and Contrasting in an Essay

 (AI) Tools

• Grammar Checker
• Paraphrasing Tool
• Text Summarizer
• AI Detector
• Plagiarism Checker
• Citation Generator

Your essay introduction should include three main things, in this order:

• An opening hook to catch the reader’s attention.
• Relevant background information that the reader needs to know.
• A thesis statement that presents your main point or argument.

The length of each part depends on the length and complexity of your essay .

The “hook” is the first sentence of your essay introduction . It should lead the reader into your essay, giving a sense of why it’s interesting.

To write a good hook, avoid overly broad statements or long, dense sentences. Try to start with something clear, concise and catchy that will spark your reader’s curiosity.

A thesis statement is a sentence that sums up the central point of your paper or essay . Everything else you write should relate to this key idea.

The thesis statement is essential in any academic essay or research paper for two main reasons:

• It gives your writing direction and focus.
• It gives the reader a concise summary of your main point.

Without a clear thesis statement, an essay can end up rambling and unfocused, leaving your reader unsure of exactly what you want to say.

The structure of an essay is divided into an introduction that presents your topic and thesis statement , a body containing your in-depth analysis and arguments, and a conclusion wrapping up your ideas.

The structure of the body is flexible, but you should always spend some time thinking about how you can organize your essay to best serve your ideas.

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