The art of convincing through speech is a culture that is both near and far. It is close to us because it is familiar: we all seek to convince. But it is at the same time distant from us because the art of convincing, the art of rhetoric, can hardly be taught anymore. Historically, the rhetoric corresponds to a profound political change: that of the birth of democracy. Indeed, if we do not have the right to speak, it does not matter if we cannot speak. But if our opinion becomes as valuable as that of another, then the art of convincing becomes as precious as gold. Rhetoric as the art of convincing is above all useful to citizens involved in civilian life. The teaching of this art should be necessary and even vital in a democracy. Yet it was precisely when rhetoric became useful that it was at the same time criticized for being assimilated to manipulation. The Greek sophists who, four centuries before Jesus Christ, were the first masters in the art of convincing, the first initiators to public speech, were at the same time accused of being cynical and manipulative impostors. Even though direct democracy needed to exercise the public voice of the citizen, the technique that was to teach it was too quickly condemned. Hence this ambivalent relationship with this art, both near and far, familiar and disturbing. Isn’t it democracy itself rather than the oratory technique that could have frightened at this time when tradition ceased to be the sole master on board? The question deserves to be asked today, in this period when institutions are changing as much as the uses of public speech.
Ethos, pathos, logos
What exactly does this art of convincing consist of? It is of course a matter of exchanging arguments to influence opinions. Speech is therefore at the center of the activity. You have to know how to express yourself in public, find good examples, counter attacks, choose or invent situations that will strike the audience. There are also the emotions, which are always mobilized in this exercise, as well as the confidence that the speaker must inspire. For Aristotle, the first great theoretician of rhetoric, the side effects of logos (the logical argument itself) are an integral part of the art of rhetoric. So there is the ethos, whereby the speaker will inspire confidence, and the pathos, which will have to put the audience in the right emotional mood. Ethos, pathos, and logos are three equally important proofs and form the triptych of the art of convincing. Moreover, each of these proofs must be exercised for itself, but also considered in its relationship with others. It is the mastery of this set that will make the speaker a good craftsman of his art: a master of persuasion. Of course, there are practical tips, even strings. But there is also (and perhaps above all) the experience of the seasoned citizen in public speaking.
Now imagine Aristotle as a professor of rhetoric in a world like ours. What advice would he give us to make our voice heard in an assembly of citizens gathered to make a decision concerning the common good? Let’s say that it is a question of fighting against the installation of a railway in the region, or of campaigning for the reception of undocumented migrants in the town, or even to obtain a day of vegetarian meal at the school of the district? Aristotle will tell us first that we must ensure that the idea of the common good is shared by all and that it constitutes a prior agreement. The discussion will only focus on the means. For those who do not share this ultimate aim (those who refuse to work for the common good), Aristotle would have simply excluded them from the discussion. Our rhetoric teacher will then invite us to build our ethos, the queen of evidence. And here, things are very clear: do not play experts, you are a citizen and we will appreciate your experience, but also your openness to discussion. Then we have to put our audience in the right frame of mind. It is pathos, and, in these matters, indignation is always a good lever for political action. But we can be indignant in all directions. We can call for a TGV in the region or fear it. The same goes for undocumented migrants or vegetarian meals. Emotion is present in all political causes, it is its source that changes.
Aristotle’s model designed for public life
Finally, there is the logos. And there, Aristotle will undoubtedly advise us to find in common history an example, a lived history which resembles the situation to be discussed. Storytelling, as it is called today, did not invent anything. It has the merit of reminding us that we are not only beings of deduction, but that we need to bring our arguments to life with the help of stories and images. It is not manipulation, but simple respect for human nature of which the universal mechanisms of persuasion are a consequence.
After centuries of prejudices on public speech as well as on reason, the model of ancient rhetoric is now avant-garde. The vision of persuasion it conveys is both broader and more realistic than that found in classical heritage. More practical and more realistic than that of logic alone, Aristotle’s model, inspired by the teaching of the sophists, also has the advantage of having been designed for public life, and not for an ideal and abstract world.
Still, the art of rhetoric is little taught today. Either we prefer a system of thought deemed to be more rational, or we venture into various kinds of coaching, often with very local uses, not to say opportunistic. Are we afraid of the art of convincing or of the freedom it brings? There is, however, research which is interested in the effects produced by regular learning of rhetoric. It develops the hypothesis that citizens acquire, through public speaking, more tolerance, empathy, but also creativity and flexibility of mind. Thus, by learning to produce arguments, to persuade and to be persuaded in return, everyone can acquire, like second nature, a better disposition to live together, in a complex world where diversity is not a problem to be solved but an opportunity to be seized.