People say that you should always avoid two thins in conversation to avoid conflict: religion and politics. Well, what about cloning, homosexuality, Darwinism, euthanasia, gun control, terrorism, extra-terrestrial life, and last, but certainly not least, education? Surely, all of these topics are going to create some kind of emotional response, and in most cases, depending on how the rhetor approaches the topic, of course, will be anger. The best way to begin is with a well-placed enargeia:
Take a trip to your local zoo and look around you. There is a chimp sitting in a cage, simply for entertainment’s sake. You can feed him, and he has been taught to smile at you afterwards. He may know a few tricks, and may be able to turn over or jump when instructed by a zookeeper, and at his most intelligent stage, understand a few words of sign language or figure out a puzzle in order to get to the treat he desires. However, he is by no means intelligent. Looking into this animal’s face, however, is simply a look at yourself a few million years ago.
However, the well-trained and responsible rhetor is able to construct an appeal to more than anger, the easiest emotion to appeal to. They may use their skills to appeal to their audience’s sense of anger, love, hate, fear, shame, compassion, pity, indignation, envy, joy, and hope.
What about an appeal to fear concerning cloning?
You walk through the main entrance of the local mall, searching for a specific shirt that you saw in a newspaper ad this weekend. It should only take five minutes, which is good, since you don’t like the feeling of being cramped in the crowds that always exist in the mall. It makes you anxious. The store is just past the food court, and you decide to stop for a smoothie. The line is long, and you’re frustrated before you reach the counter. You start to tell the person behind the register that you would like a raspberry-banana twist when you suddenly stop. This person has your face. You start to think about the identical-twin-separated-at-birth scenario, when you see their nametag. Their name is the same as yours, and the small freckle you have above your lip? It’s there on their face, staring back at you like the ugly truth. You forget all about your smoothie and run, as fast as you can, back to your car, never looking back.
Or, perhaps, if it’s more your style, an appeal pity and euthanasia?
Your eighty-nine year old grandmother lies in the hospital bed after she has broken her hip for the second time. She has been told that she will never walk again, though that was before her Alzheimer’s got so bad that she couldn’t even remember the names of her children. She tells you that she is in incredible pain when she is coherent enough to express how she is feeling. The hospital has her connected to many machines to keep her alive, and the bills are becoming larger every day. Her power of attorney is in your hands, and you must decide if you will have her continue this existence until she can no longer be resuscitated or allow her to ease the pain with the “inhumane” procedure of euthanasia.
No comments:
Post a Comment