Today’s Plan:
- Ethos
- Miller
- For Next Class
Different Senses of Ethos
Aristotle’s On Rhetoric identifies 3 different forms of rhetorical appeals, which are the elements that Aristotle believes drive any persuasive speech act. These are logos, ethos, and pathos. I would argue that, out of the three, ethos is the term that generates the most disciplinary controversy–that is, you will find the least agreement among scholars, teachers, and textbooks as to what the term means and/or how a rhetor can/should develop it. Generally, it means something like credibility, character, and/or culture–but the point of emphases or the nuance or the relationship between these things gets complex.
So let me dig into these three different senses a bit to try and illustrate that complexity (though, let me also say, that these senses overlap–they are not mutually exclusive). My goal here is to unpack ethos in a way that helps us understand its relationship to demagoguery.
Let’s start with Aristotle, who is a logocentric philosopher. In On Rhetoric, Aristotle makes the argument that ethos should be a property of the speech itself and not a valuation of the speaker’s character. This interpretation of Aristotle isn’t universally accepted; I am focusing on one particular discussion of ethos early in the text; moreover, I emphasize should be because–as I’ll explain below, that’s Aristotle’s position as a philosopher; he acknowledges that most other people don’t think about ethos this way. Let me focus on a particular passage from On Rhetoric:
There is persuasion through character whenever the speech is spoken in such a way as to make the speaker worthy of credence; for we believe fair-minded people to a greater extent and more quickly than we do others on all subjects in general and completely so in cases where there is not exact knowledge but room for doubt. And this should result from the speech, not from a previous opinion that the speaker is a certain kind of person; for it is not the case, as some technical writers propose in their treatment of the art, that fair-mindedness [epiekeia] on the part of the speaker makes no contribution to persuasiveness, rather, character is almost, so to speak, the controlling factor in persuasion.
Yes, Greeks like long sentences.
What does Aristotle mean here when he writes that “persuasion should result from the speech?” My interpretation is that the formal organization of the speech, as well as its argumentative tone (and the quality of its composition), what we might call the voice and temperament, is perhaps the most important element of persuasion. In essence, I should take the name off the paper and grade it based on the quality of its craft and argument alone.
- Does it present a logically constructed argument, citing evidence as we would expect a smart, rational person to do?
- Does it handle its opponents claims fairly, civilly, acknowledging both their concerns and evidence objectively?
To refer back to a few examples we’ve discussed earlier: an Aristotelian understanding of ethos as I have discussed it here, as credibility inferred by the formal elements of the speech alone, makes it “easier” (that’s probably the wrong word) to read Heidegger–because we can focus on his contributions of thought detached from his private Nazi beliefs. [Note: a retweet is not an endorsement here!] Similarly, such a belief might make it easier for us to vote a racist or spousal abuser into Baseball’s Hall of Fame, since their personal failures can be distanced from what they do in the speech what they do on the field.
Aristotle’s idea of ethos asks us to assess whether the formal qualities and voice of a “textual” object resemble a fair, rational, objective (etc) thinker. Does this voice sound like a credible person in this thing?
Other interpretations of Aristotle, those that focus on other sections of his Rhetoric, speak more to the character of a speaker. To what extent is the speaker a good person? Does her character suggest that this is someone to whom I should listen. Or, even if we think about this in terms of credibility, I might ask: why/is the speaker credible to speak? Rhetorical handbooks (both ancient and contemporary) will encourage speakers to defend themselves as speakers. “Having studied rhetoric for 10 years and having taught graduate and undergraduate seminars on rhetorical theory, I offer the following–narrow–interpretation of Aristotelian ethos.” “While I might not have played professional baseball, I have studied advanced analytics for 10 years.” “As a mother, I have experience raising children. And that’s why…” If you read an author making a case for why they are qualified to write about a subject, then you are witnessing someone make an argument about themselves as a character. If you see an argument about why we shouldn’t listen to Jaylen Brown (basketball player) or Curt Schilling (retired baseball pitcher) talk about politics, you are reading an argument in which someone questions whether he has the character to talk about politics.
Similarly, we might question whether a person’s moral failings exclude them from a conversation. Certainly, one would not ask Harvey Weinstein to talk about the Me Too movement. [Marc: Google Lance Armstrong Charity]. At what point does personal failure exclude? From this perspective, one would feel less comfortable reading Heidegger, because the historic significance of this thought would be overshadowed by the evil in his heart.
I should say that when I think of ethos, I think about it in a third sense–as sense of community. Is the speaker one of “us” or one of “them”? I am not idealizing this sense of ethos; rather I am arguing that our tendency–contra Aristotle–is to identify with speakers who most closely resemble our sense of how the world works, of who we are, of what we value. This is a natural process. In the ancient world, this sense of ethos traces back to Isocrates.
20th and 21st century rhetoricians are quick to point out the dangers of this system, since it can quickly lead to dogmatism and demagoguery (and I’m sure we can talk about this in connection with Miller today). When I rhetorically analyze a speech, I pay particular attention to the ways in which the speaker identifies with the audience (link to Wikipedia page on Burkean identification). Burke argues that identification, forming a common bond with the audience [one predicated on the sharing of values and identity], is essential to human communication, and precedes and underwrites any “logical” (in the parlance of rhetorical theory, ethos precedes logos, even if Aristotle would emphasize that logos should take priority over ethos).
However, it is also prone to abuse, since it can easily slide into demonization of those who are not us. For instance, Isocrates, writing at a precarious time for Greek city-states facing Mongol invasion. He proposes that “Greek” is not a matter of birth, blood, or geography, but rather a matter of ideological commitments to intellect, beauty, freedom, honor, and responsibility. Anyone who pledges themselves is thus properly Greek (and here’s potential overlap with Aristotle, since if their speech does those things, then it must be Greek–maybe–I don’t know I’d have to think about this more). Okay–so great, we have a potentially useful term/idea for how to unite city-states under one collective identity. Except Isocrates makes abundantly clear that anyone who doesn’t fly under the Greek banner is a barbarian. And we definitely need to kill all those people. Isocrates thus becomes a really interesting historic figure: someone who advocates for the power of language and compromise as central to peaceful democracy, and someone who develops a rhetorical-philosophical model that supports genocide.
Kenneth Burke wrote “The Rhetoric of Hitler’s Battle” in 1939, early into Germany’s aggression but before the start of World War 2. Before most academics (and politicians) took Hitler seriously. Let’s take a look at a few quick passages (as a way of thinking about / transitioning to our reading on demagoguery).
The yearning for unity is so great that people are always willing to meet you halfway if you will give it to them by fiat, by flat statement, regardless of the facts. (p. 205-6)
Burke is writing in 1939. Since then, social and neuroscience have proven this theorem (look up terms like “confirmation bias,” “cognitive bias,” or something like the Dunning Kruger Effect. I want to end today with a brief passage from a podcast I listen to–one that asks a question: who is to blame for demagoguery? Is it a bottom up movement or a top down movement?
There is much more I’d like to quote/write here, but already I fear this stretches long. But I want to take some time with the Miller. How does Miller’s chapter resonate with these concepts of ethos?
For Next Class
Read Miller through page 93. Write Up #2 due Monday.
