Rhetoric and the Power of Imagination–or the Opposite

A few weeks ago, I was invited to speak at the APU (Azusa Pacific University) Honors College on the topic of “What We Can Learn about Argument from Classical Rhetoric.” As I prepared to give this talk, I was struck again by the focus of the ancient Greeks on making arguments from consensus. The method Aristotle especially seems to outline has to do with finding common ground with others, and to use that as the basis of an argument.

The modern rhetorician Kenneth Burke once filled in some of the background on this when he noted our existential need for rhetoric. We are divided. We are isolated. We seek consensus. We have need of an art that will help us to find what he called identification. Burke’s suggestion here comes out of his reading of Aristotle. 

Today, I find divisions arising between myself and others I know, many of them people I was able to talk to just four years ago without too much trouble. I’m not going to blame them or me for the division, but in thinking about Aristotle’s approach, I think we could learn something from him. This seems especially urgent when I listen to our most prominent politicians. I always wonder about the leaders we follow who seem to stress what divides us: What are they gaining in terms of power by keeping us divided? I wonder how much we might gain if we instead try to imagine the common ground we share.

As always happens to me when I think about Classical Rhetoric, I found my thoughts moving toward the importance of the imagination in our public discourse. In popular culture, of course, imagination is relegated to the artists, the writers, the creatives. But it takes imagination to fulfill the universal call to love one’s neighbor.

It takes imagination to understand other people and how they are experiencing their lives. It takes imagination to actually think about what others might really need, especially those who are quite different from us. It takes imagination to recognize what we have in common with those we seem most different from.

The opposite seems to be happening in our political discourse right now, anyway, the opposite of identification. We seem to have less imagination to spare for those we disagree with politically. Or, just as possible, we often seem to use our imaginations to create monsters of them. The evidence of this can be found in our uses of fallacies, such as ad hominem attacks, or the use of devil terms–all the terms we use to divide. Instead of considering that others might have valid reasons for what they believe, we attribute to them evil, debased, or stupid intent.

This is the quickest way I can think of to a narrow mind. Everyone who doesn’t agree with me is misinformed, stupid, or evil. And if my main interaction with people happens on social media, and I spend my time telling just about everyone to get off my metaphorical lawn, it becomes very easy to believe that most other people are not worth my time. 

I will admit that my thoughts here are coming from some personal encounters. After a few recent, nasty social media interactions, I have decided this month to avoid situations where I might be reduced to the equivalence of a bumper sticker slogan. I will try instead to talk with others in real time, where we can interact more fully, and try to understand where we are each coming from. I plan this because I am coming to suspect that social media–Facebook, Twitter, the rest of it–may be instrumental, a technology of our division. We use it for both, for identification with those of our tribe, and division from those we insult. 

Dialogue, conversation, rather than posting images and insults, seem the better way to go at this point. It does bother me, though, that social media are so pervasive and influential.