Category Archives: Models

Examples we can productively study

The Power of Rhetorical Transcendence

President Barack Obama and his congressional rival, John Boehner. AFP/Getty Images
President Barack Obama and his congressional rival,                 John Boehner.   AFP/Getty Images

Think of “transcendence” as a verbal bridge: a single word or phrase that narrows the gap between two views to the point where “opposing sides” almost disappear. 

The title for this short piece may sound hopelessly arcane.  But these are the exact words that should be used to describe what is a simple yet significant process for turning conflict into agreement.  The power is real and the process is useful.

The word “rhetoric” has few friends.  But it’s the right word to describe the daily chatter that emanates from us from morning until the end of the day.  We are not fact machines, but rhetorical machines.  We are not cameras, but practical artists:  rendering in the brush strokes of our own style what we have witnessed in life. The truth is that we routinely bend the world to our perceptions.  Apart from some forms of mathematical or programming language, our discourse is a complete mix of words and expressions that name as well as judge.  And because we usually do this to seek acceptance and agreement with others, we are—for good and ill—rhetorical.

Think of “transcendence” as a verbal bridge: a single word or phrase that narrows the gap between two views to the point where “opposing sides” almost disappear.  One of the virtues of thinking rhetorically is that it is easier to imagine escapes from hopeless impasses with others by thinking creatively about this kind of language of agreement.  If we sometimes use words as grenades that scare off potential supporters, transcendent ideas do the reverse.  So if someone baits another by calling the Affordable Care Act as “socialized medicine,” the impression is clear that there’s an unbridgeable divide that separates that person from a supporter.  That the program encourages people to sign up mostly with private insurers ought to be enough to get the flame thrower to pull back from such toxic language.   If not, there is still a rhetorical path to agreement. Different and more general words–sometimes called “ultimate terms”–can encompass the same subject area, but carry more of a tone of reassurance than threat.  As the critic Kenneth Burke noted, these terms tend to focus on values, first principles, common beliefs and the like.  So if we choose to describe the Act as a way to “guarantee a birthright of basic healthcare for every American,” it surely sounds better.  We recognize a “birthright” as a guarantee that comes with being a citizen of the country.  So while the lower end of the abstraction ladder includes terms or claims that still provoke disagreement–that insurance exchanges will actually work, that people will pay no more while still seeing their own doctors, and so on–the much broader “birthright” value is a point on which more Americans might find common ground.

Trancendance captureIn rhetorical terms, this is the point of transcendence.  It’s a universal principle or value where differences begin to yield to agreements.  So it is often the effective communicator who is capable of reframing an issue to find this point.  In public discussions and debates we often recognize the process of finding common values when an opponent probes the other side with a series of questions, for example: “Would you agree that no American should be sent into combat if a war does not involve our vital interests?”  “Can we both accept the idea that parents with children need adequate health coverage?”  “Can we start by accepting the principles enshrined in the First Amendment?”  Can we agree that all students in this city have a right to a good and comprehensive education?

So the ability to break through conflict is sometimes started—if rarely finished—by seeking the point of rhetorical transcendence where shared values are acknowledged by both sides.  That acknowledgment will not melt away conflicts.  But it’s often overlooked as a useful place to start.

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Sometimes the Perfect Response is No Response

The psychological rewards of angry responses are overrated.  Even a brilliant retort is not likely to force an errant advocate back on their heels.

Photo: Harry Truman, the Library of Congress
Photo: Harry Truman, Library of Congress

For many of us the urge to enter the fray to correct or admonish others is a constant.  It is always tempting to think that we are being helpful when we explain to the misguided how they have failed to notice their mistakes.  It’s a self-fulfilling process.  Others offer corrections or criticisms of our ideas or acts; the least we can do is return the favor.

Aristotle was one of the first to systematically describe how a person should defend their ideas when challenged.  He equated the ability to make counter-arguments as just another form of personal defense. Though the great philosopher used other words, he essentially noted that we shouldn’t allow ourselves to be pushed around. This was about 380 B.C., demonstrating that some things never change.

Even so, it has perhaps become too easy to fire off a rejoinder or a personal attack. Most of us find it hard to be in a public space and not encounter cross-court slams from an ideological opponent that seem to need an equally aggressive return.

The digital world easily brings our indignation to the fore.  Many websites welcome comments, the majority of which are misguidedly protected with anonymity.  And it isn’t just the trolls that are rattling on about a writer’s sloppy logic or uncertain parentage. In private and public settings everyone seems to be ready with a hastily assembled attitude.  The felicitous put-down is so common that screenplays and narratives seem to wilt in their absence.  What dramatist could write a scene about a family Thanksgiving dinner without including at least a couple of estranged relatives rising to the bait of each other’s festering resentments?  To make matters worse, some of us actually get paid to teach others how to argue, with special rewards going to those who are especially adept at incisive cross examination.

There are many circumstances when the urge to respond is worth suppressing.  Sometimes saying nothing is better than any other alternative: less wounding or hurtful, or simply the best option in the presence of a communication partner who is out for the sport of a take-down.

The psychological rewards are also overrated.  Even a brilliant rejoinder is not likely to force an errant advocate back on their heels. You may be itching to correct them. But they are probably determined to ignore you.

And there are costs to becoming shrill. Harry Truman famously sensed this.  The former President had a hot temper.  Even before he was elected he had more than his share of critics.  But his approach to responding to criticism made a lot of sense.  In the days when letters often carried a person’s most considered rebuttals, his habit was to go ahead and write to his critics, often in words that burned with righteous indignation.  But he usually didn’t mail them.  The letters simply went into a drawer, which somehow gave Truman the permission to move on to more constructive activities, such as a good game of poker.

Not responding to someone else’s provocative words can have at least two advantages.  The first is that your comments probably won’t be received anyway.  We tend to ignore non-congruent information, a process known in the social sciences as “confirmation bias,” but familiar to everyone who has ever said that “we hear only what we want to hear.”  The second advantage is that rapid responses to others can carry the impression that the responder lacks a certain grace. Not every idea that comes into our heads is worth sharing. In addition, fiery replies sometimes indicate that we weren’t really listening.

Time gives us a better perspective.  It allows us to better anticipate how our responses will be judged.  Most importantly, it helps us break the cycle where one wounding response is simply piled on to another.

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