Category Archives: Rhetorical Mastery

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A.I.: Are We Giving Up on the Idea of Authorship?

It pays to be aware of A.I. messages that are inherently fraudulent without an actual author.

Our identity is closely tied to our words: the words that we use amount to our rhetorical fingerprint. The ways we use the tools of literacy always mark us as a unique person. Ask yourself how often you have paused when asked to sign a petition with grievances or actions already listed. What if the petition doesn’t quite express your views? Ditto even for a drug store sympathy card: not in your style, perhaps, or too flowery. Look at any greeting cards and you realize how hard it is to take “of the shelf” sentiments and try to own their thoughts. By contrast, even a brief note written by us is also a piece of us. And what about A.I. poetry, if there is such a thing? Doesn’t it need a human source: someone who uses expressive language to tap into their life experience?  An authorless book makes as much sense as a airplane without a pilot on board.

In non-technical areas, trusting our ideas to ChatGPT and other large language models of artificial intelligence requires the same kind of leaps into skins that are not our own. We now have chatbots that can talk more than friends or relatives guilty of the worst kinds of unearned familiarity.

Of course there are routine messages where A.I. may get a simple point across, or necessary history on a topic or problem. Businesses like the idea of A.I. for messages because they can come up with facsimiles of transactional exchanges. Predictable requests are identified and answered, policies are explained, and web addresses are passed on. But there is another whole side of language. Language is expressive as much as instrumental. It exists to convert our feelings into words that have meaning for us and the receiver. Ordinary language is the domain of sentient beings who are biological rather than electrical.

Consider as well, the pronoun “I.” Our awareness of it gives us the power to take ownership of objects, needs, feelings, and a reserved space in what is usually a growing social network. Children learn this early, building an emerging sense of self that expands rapidly in the first few years. Eventually they will distinguish the meanings of  other pronouns that allow for the possibility of  not just “I,” but “we, “you,” and “them” as well. This added capacity to name a specific person is a major threshold. It is necessary to make inferences about others with their distinct social orbits and prerogatives.

Language has more meaning when its human sources can be identified.

This shift to “I” from “we” also enables us to assert intellectual and social kinship, one biological creature to another, bound by an awareness of similar arcs that include learning, living and dying. These natural processes motivate us to assert our own sense of agency: to be engines of action and reaction. We “know” and often boldly announce our intentions, at the same time doing our best to infer them in others. Estimations of motive shape most of our conversations with others. Every time ChatGPT uses forms of everyday language, it is ignoring the fact that it has no resources of the self: no capability to “feel” as a sentient being. Think of  the “I” statements used by others as sitting atop a deep well of attitudes and feelings that often come to the surface. When A.I. implies personhood, it is a counterfeit.  We all know the feeling when we have fronted for an organization, whose policies and key words sometimes mesh poorly with our own views.

Children are especially vulnerable to the effects of not comprehending what it means that that there is no human presence behind a message. In spite of what the New York Times dismisses as the “doom industrial complex” of A.I. concerns, they have also reported on kids hooked on Character A.I. apps that contribute to social isolation, sometimes disastrous results.

Consider the somewhat parallel case of works of art. To those in the thrall of painting and other forms of art it matters what the provenance of a painting is, especially if there is monetary value in a known artist. As we have explored here before, fakes can be hard to sort out from the authentic work of a master. The person who, in our context, “authored” the painting seems to sometimes matter more than the work in front of our eyes. That is what all of the documentaries on art fraud remind us. If it is so with art, why is the equivalent of provenance for our words something we are so willing to give up?

One answer is that writing is not easy; invention imbedded in literacy taxes the best of us. Some will accept any A.I. facsimile that takes them off the hook. But a key point remains obvious:  it pays to be aware of fraudulent messages from A.I. that have no identifiable source.

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When Words Do Not Matter

One British shop owner’s reaction after the election of Donald Trump in 2016.  London Evening Standard

We may no longer have the patience to read ourselves into the implicit contracts we must make to meld the private with the public.

I was in high school in April of 1962 when an angry President Kennedy delivered remarks to the nation, expressing his displeasure with the steel industry for raising prices that he thought would prolong a recession. Who remembers presidential comments while running the chaotic maze of high school? For many of us the landscape of national life was different then. Kennedy’s criticism of the steel industry caught our attention because presidents typically did not make disparaging comments about core businesses. With unexpected fury as he noted that “simultaneous actions of United States Steel and other steel corporations, increasing steel prices by some 6 dollars a ton, constitute a wholly unjustifiable and irresponsible defiance of the public interest.” As was his habit, he talked about the national values. Hence, the rhetorical blow against “big steel,” which still supplied most of the American carmakers. “Some time ago I asked each American to consider what he would do for his country, and I asked the steel companies. In the last 24 hours we had their answer.” The famous Kennedy style of understated affability had been momentarily wiped away by his revulsion. The chill was consequential even for a high schooler. At the time it seemed as if the nation fell silent for just a moment to ponder the weight of his words.

I offer this example in representative contrast to what has unraveled in the years since then. In 1962 Americans noticed a President’s atypical displeasure. How times have changed, with the words of Donald Trump falling like so many lit matches in a dry and empty forest. The pulse quickens from the spectacle, but fewer seem shocked by a national figure who has constructed his persona around daily taunts and obscene asides. Forget a major American industry like steel, no person has been too small to be picked off in a shooting gallery of rhetorical assaults.

The use of presidential rhetoric for incitement and harassment was rare in 1962. Kennedy and his 1960 presidential campaign opponent, Richard Nixon, kept their comments to each other and their supporters civil. Neither sought to use the plentiful indecencies of rhetorical attack to impugn the character of the other. In the end, the steel price hikes were rescinded, and the nation moved on.

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Now, it seems, words from former president Donald Trump seem to rush into the vacuum of what passes for civil discourse. We no longer pay much attention because the nonstop roar of hortatory language in the digital world is more distanced and transactional. In a culture of professional shouters we have apparently come to believe that we don’t have time to care. It seems not to matter that a candidate for the Presidency of the United States can suggest that a heckler should “get the hell knocked out of her,” or that he would deploy the military to handle the “enemy from within,” meaning “radical-left lunatics” like former House Speaker Nancy Pelosi. No wonder former Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, Mark Milley, has recently noted that the President he served under is “fascist to the core.”  And we should remember that in 2016 Trump indicted himself and the nation even more in the comment that he could “shoot somebody and not lose voters.” As The Atlantic’s Anne Applebaum recently wrote, he “has brought dehumanizing language into American presidential politics.”  He has made language a disposable afterthought.

As a rhetorician I have a professional distaste for his sloppy indifference to the advantages of a tempered response. As for his brazen palaver, the acceptance of it by a sizable portion of the county is its own national crisis: maybe less than Kennedy’s confrontation over Cuban Missiles, but certainly more than JFK’s showdown with big steel.

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Because government reaches further into our lives, its rules and stipulations provoke in some a barely dormant impulse to celebrate chaos. 

It follows that his conviction for multiple felonies and an assault on at least one woman seems not to be disqualifying. A discouraging number of Americans have dismissed the details of the former President’s crimes of rebellion against the rule of law. It is no coincidence that the British chose a hasty exit from the EU at about the same time Americans first elected Trump. Both societies behaved like bored middle-schoolers searching for a sense of identity in a confusing world.

The influential conservative writer David Brooks has noted that the United States is “a democracy in decline,” in part because more Americans with lives shrunken to the size of their personal devices are ill suited to deal with pages and paragraphs that are needed to make sense of a complex society. Primary sources have been overwhelmed by influencers and interpreters. With news readership and viewership at record lows, too many distracted owners no longer feel compelled to confront the stressed political environment. It is easy to get comfortable with the realization that no one is really paying much attention.

There are also other forces at work. Speaking in broad strokes, because government reaches further into our lives, its rules and stipulations provoke in some a barely dormant impulse to feed a backlash that celebrates chaos. Many no longer have the patience to read themselves into the implicit contracts with civil institutions such as schools and libraries that meld the private with the public. The ubiquitous use of film violence targeting men offers a clue. It seems to function as an opportunity for vicarious release from the work of living in an interdependent and culturally diverse society. To self-identify as dispossessed is reason enough not to care.