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I come not, friends, to steal away your hearts... I am no orator, as Brutus is But as you know me all, a plain, blunt man Who loved his friend - And that they know Who gave me public leave to speak of him For I have neither wit, nor words, nor worth Action nor utterance, nor the power of speech to stir men's blood I merely speak right on. I tell you that Which all of you do know Show you sweet Caesar's wounds These poor, poor dumb mouths And bid them speak for me. But were I Brutus, and Brutus Antony There were an Antony would ruffle up your spirits And put a tongue in every wound of Caesar That would move the stones of Rome to rise and mutiny.
- Mark Antony's speech, Julius Caesar - Shakespeare
Every time I hear somebody say "That's just rhetoric; it's not reality," I think of this part of Antony's speech. Every time I hear somebody say "That's just flash; there's no substance," I think of this part of Antony's speech. Every time I hear O'Reilly drone on about a "no spin zone," or the million and one other pundits and commentators who insist that they "merely speak right on," that they are just "plain, blunt" people, I think of this part of Antony's speech. I don't believe in plain, blunt people. They simply don't exist. It is, of course, the speech's crescendo, the moment when Antony is most an orator, most a rhetor. It's Shakespeare's little joke. We're supposed to laugh at this part.
Indeed, the whole speech is Shakespeare making fun of classical rhetoric, or at least the way it was taught in Elizabethan England. In the early part of the speech, Antony catches the vapors like a faux outraged John Boehner ("My heart is in the casket there with Caesar, and I must pause til it come back to me..."); the pause is filled by the reactions of the audience, which of course map perfectly on to the classical appeals of logos ("I do see reason in his saying"), ethos ("There's not a nobler man in Rome"), and pathos ("His eyes are red as fire with weeping..."). But this particular moment is where the money is. This is the moment that contains the simple lesson: people are at their most rhetorical when accusing others of being merely rhetorical.
Every Greek and Roman schoolboy knew that when you are outmatched by a powerful speaker, you retreat into this mode: I am no orator, as Brutus is. You disclaim the mantle of rhetoric in your declamation: I merely speak right on. It is, quite literally, the oldest trick in the political book. It's still effective, because the old suspicion of rhetoric - of the good speaker - remains strong. So it's not a bad trick. Most people still fall for it, as evidenced by O'Reilly's absurd ratings, or the still cringe-worthy romanticism for the "plain spoken man." But I remain astounded by how effective it still is, even though anyone who understands argument understands that it is just a move, a play, a gambit, a strategy. A rhetorical strategy.
As for me, I am no gifted arguer, as some members of this board seem to be. I'm just givin' ya the facts, kiddo. The plain facts. But if I were one of our gifted posters, if I had the savvy and the smarts and the talent, I'd want to get you thinking about this point: maybe we should be more suspicious of the accuser when "style over substance" is the accusation.
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