Emotions in Aristotle's Rhetoric (DRAFT)

AF T Emotions in Aristotle’s Rhetoric R Christof Rapp -D I. One of the main attractions of Aristotle’s Rhetoric is the part of the work that deals T with the pathê tês psychês – which have come to be called the affections of the soul or AF the emotions. Aristotle seems to assume that it is possible for a rhetorician to manipulate the feelings of his audience. The interest of these chapters mainly derives R from the striking analyses of particular types of emotions; some of the thoughts -D Aristotle presents about anger, pity, shame and envy seem to be applicable down to the present day. At the same time, however, these chapters are somehow T disappointing from a philosophical point of view, since most of the assumptions AF Aristotle makes about the nature of the emotions, about the impact of emotions on our judgment, and about how emotions come about are nowhere articulated – let R alone argued for – in a coherent way. This lack of theoretical interest is typical of -D major parts of Aristotle’s Rhetoric. It is has often been explained in terms of the pragmatic nature of such rhetorical manuals or handbooks. This is certainly part of T the truth. Another part of the truth that I would like to add is this: in the first two AF books of the Rhetoric, we find the ambitious attempt to create a complete art of rhetoric mainly by means of dialectic: Aristotle applies and adjusts the dialectical D R inventory to the specific requirements of public speech, and draws up several catalogues of topoi that are meant to carve up the field of what is possibly persuasive. Obviously, it would be unfair to expect such an endeavor to engage in detailed theorybuilding. 1 So: ample material, exciting analyses, promising presuppositions, but no explicit overarching theory. What I want to do in my lecture is to make plain how I AF T understand the Aristotelian technique of manipulating the audience’s feelings to work. At the same time, I will try to lay bare some of the assumptions about the nature of R emotions that seem to be presupposed in the description of this technique. -D If we understand emotions in terms of what we know from other Aristotelian works, there might be prima facie reasons for doubting that it is feasible to manipulate the emotions of a public audience. For according to the famous account of the T Aristotelian Ethics, our emotional reactions are primarily a matter of long-term habits AF and attitudes that we have acquired in the course of our upbringing, and that we have further shaped and cultivated by exposing ourselves to relevant situations and actions. R For an orator, by contrast, who is faced only momentarily with a public mass audience, -D such individual long-term attitudes are completely out of reach: he cannot address individual preferences and attitudes, and he has only a limited time frame. Readers of T the De Anima, and many interpreters of the Poetics, also assume that, for Aristotle, AF emotions are primarily a matter of one’s physiological condition. Again, this physiological condition of a public audience is nothing that the orator would be able R to manipulate directly. Obviously, he cannot treat his individual addressees with hot -D or cold cataplasms (i.e. compresses) in order to agitate them or to calm them down. So there are mainly two questions I would like to address. First: how can it be AF T possible in the first place to arouse the emotions of a public audience? And, second, what account of the emotions is required and presupposed by such a technique? R Before I can directly deal with these two questions, there are a couple of preliminaries D that I should address. 2 II. As you will remember, Aristotle thinks that rhetoric is a counterpart to dialectic. Just AF T as Aristotle’s Topics promises to develop a method by which we can argue for and against any given thesis, the Rhetoric attempts to consider what is possibly persuasive in R any given case. And just as the Topics is interested in conclusiveness and validity, the -D Rhetoric is interested in persuasion. The affinity of the disciplines of dialectic and rhetoric is grounded in the fact that, for Aristotle, proofs or conclusive arguments are an essential ingredient of persuasion. People are most convinced, Aristotle says, if they T think that something has been proven. This might be the reason why the major part of AF Aristotle’s Rhetoric is concerned with proof-based persuasion. Nevertheless, Aristotle’s enthusiasm for dialectical argumentation theory does not mislead him into thinking R that all conclusive proofs would be persuasive or that proofs are – under all -D circumstances – sufficient for bringing about persuasion. First of all, rhetorical proofs must proceed from premises that are actually accepted by an audience; furthermore, T the intended conclusions of a rhetorical argument must follow in a comprehensible AF way from the audience’s given convictions and must not require a long chain of intermediate inferences. In addition, the persuasive effect of an enthymeme – the R Aristotelian rhetorical proof - will be obstructed if the speaker or orator is held to be -D an untrustworthy person, or if the audience happens to be in an emotional condition that is somehow hostile to the intended conclusion. For example, the hearers might T be reluctant to reach a favorable judgment about a person whom they dislike or whose AF behavior they find outrageous. Vice versa, it will be easier for the hearers to accept a suggested conclusion if their emotional attitude is in line with what the argument D R suggests. 3 This is obviously the point at which the treatment of emotions proves to be of systematic importance. In the famous passage that is quoted in text 11 we are told that AF T there are exactly three means of persuasion (pisteis) that are provided through speech: one works through the character of the speaker; one through argument, that is, by either showing or seeming to show something; and one through disposing the listener R in a certain way. In text 22 we are told that persuasion comes about “through the -D listener when they are led by the speech to feel an emotion (pathos), for we do not give the same judgement when grieved and rejoicing or when being friendly and hostile.” T As for the purpose of the arousal of emotions I regard a text (text 33) as decisive that AF is taken from a passage in the Rhetoric that marks the transition from the discussion of arguments to the discussion of character and emotions. Here, Aristotle says: “But R since rhetoric aims at a judgement (krisis)… it is necessary not only to look at the -D argument, that it may be conclusive and convincing, but also to present oneself as a certain kind of person and to prepare the audience.” The reason for introducing T emotions in the first place is clearly stated. What an orator aims at is the judgment AF (krisis) of an audience: the orator wants the audience to actually judge, i.e. to vote or to cast their ballots in a certain way. For the formation of such a judgment, R argumentation, logos, plays an indispensable role – this is why Rhetoric I and one half of -D Rhetoric II deal almost exclusively with arguments. But argumentation is not the only effective factor in the process of judgment formation: the character of the speaker and T the emotional state of the audience also play a role. This is why Aristotle’s account of AF the art of rhetoric has to explain how to prepare the emotional state of the audience. Text 1: Of the pisteis pro ided through spee h there are three spe ies: for so e are in the character (ēthos) of the speaker, and some in disposing the listener in some way, and some in the argument (logos) itself, by showing or seeming to show something. - … ῶ ὲ ιὰ οῦ ό ο ο ι ο έ ίσ ία ἴ ἔσ ι · αἱ ὲ ά ἰσι ἐ ῷ ἤθ ι οῦ έ ο ος, αἱ ὲ ἐ ῷ ὸ ἀ οα ὴ ιαθ ῖ αί ς, αἱ ὲ ἐ αὐ ῷ ῷ ό ῳ ιὰ οῦ ι ύ αι ἢ φαί σθαι ι ύ αι. Rhetoric I.2, 1356a1-4). 2 Text 2: „ ιὰ ὲ ῶ ἀ οα ῶ , ὅ α ἰς άθος ὑ ὸ οῦ ό ο οα θῶσι · οὐ ὰ ὁ οί ς ἀ ο ί ο ὰς ίσ ις ού οι αὶ αί ο ς, ἢ φι οῦ ς αὶ ισοῦ ς· ὸς ὃ αὶ ό ο ι ᾶσθαί φα α α ύ σθαι οὺς ῦ ο ο οῦ ας. Rhetoric I.2, 1356a14-17). 3 Text 3: ἐ ὶ ὲ ἕ α ίσ ώς ἐσ ι ἡ ῥ ο ι ή …, ἀ ά ὴ ό ο ὸς ὸ ό ο ὁ ᾶ , ὅ ς ἀ ο ι ι ὸς ἔσ αι αὶ ισ ός, ἀ ὰ αὶ αὑ ὸ οιό ι α αὶ ὸ ι ὴ α ασ ά ι . Rhetoric II.1, 1377b21-24). D R 1 4 Probably the easiest way to confer Aristotle’s account of emotions in the Rhetoric is by AF T the following table: Table 1: Emotions in Rhet. II 2-11 praotēs: mildness (II 3) philia /philein: love (II 4) misein: hate (appendix to II 4) T “wanting for someone what one thinks are good things for him, not what one thinks benefits oneself and being productive of them …” R AF (opposed to philein) tharsos / tharrein: confidence (II 5) (opposed to phobos) T -D phobos: fear (II 5) “sort of pain or agitation derived from the imagination of a future destructive or painful harm/evil …” “Let praünsis be a settling down and quieting of anger” -D „desire (orexis) accompanied by pain for an apparent revenge for an apparent slight … done by someone who was not entitled” R orgē: anger (II 2) (anaischuntia: lack of shame) “sort of … indifference with respect to the same things” -D R AF aischunē: shame (II 6) „sort of pain or agitation about evils, present, past or future ones, that are expected to bring about bad reputation (adoxia)” charin echein: gratefulness (II 7) AF T „Let favor (charis)-that in virtue of which the person who has received it is said to be grateful-be a service rendered to someone in need …” eleos: pity (II 8) D R “sort of pain at an apparent evil/harm, destructive or painful, happening to one who does not deserve it …” unnamed emotion # 1 (II 9) taking pleasure in deserved misfortune; (deriving from a good character –as opposed to Schadenfreude) charin aphaireisthai: to annihilate the favor / acharistous poiein: to make them ungrateful (appendix to II 7) nemesan: to be indignant (II 9) “pain at an undeserved success …” (deriving from the same sort of character as pity) unnamed emotion # 2 (II 9) taking pleasure in deserved success (deriving from a good character) 5 “sort of pain at an apparent presence of honorable goods, which are possible for us to obtain …” (sign of a good character) R “sort of pain at an apparent success of one’s peers” … in attaining the sort of goods typical of indignation (sign of a bad character) zēlos: emulation, ambition (II 11) AF T phthonos: envy (II 10) -D As you can see, Aristotle attaches to each of the basic emotions (anger, love, fear, shame, gratefulness, pity – see the left column) something like an opposite or counterpart (which is located in the right column). The status of these counterparts AF T differs from case to case. Sometimes, as in the case of hate and confidence, they seem to be genuine types of emotions; sometimes, as in the case of gratefulness, the R opposite is just the terminating of the corresponding emotion; and sometimes, it is -D unclear whether Aristotle wants to define a genuine emotion, the quitting of an emotion, or the mere absence of an emotion. For example, some passages about praotês (mildness) seem to deal with the absence of anger in situations when we would AF T expect people to be angry. Apart from the sort of opposition that holds between the emotions in the left and in the right column, there are some other interesting relations R holding between particular items in the list: for example, shame is defined as a sort of -D fear and is thus dependent on fear. Or, to take another example, the emotion of pity is the basic emotion in a small system of six emotions, that also includes indignation, T envy, emulation as well as two more, unnamed, emotions. AF Most of the emotions mentioned in the left column and some of the emotions mentioned in the right one include a reference to pleasure or pain (the full definition D R of anger [text 8, by the way, on the handout], even includes both pain and pleasure). However, it is striking that Aristotle seems to be reluctant to present a full or regular definition of emotions in general. In text 6 from the Rhetoric, Aristotle says that the emotions are those things through which, by undergoing change, people come to differ in their judgments and which are accompanied by pain and pleasure: for 6 example, anger, pity, fear, and other such things and their opposites.4 Now, that people differ in their judgments in accordance with their emotions is of course an AF T effect of emotions, but this can hardly be read as a regular definition. Whenever Aristotle comes to speak about emotions he uses ostensive definition, introducing emotions by typical examples (see text 75). The lists of examples given in different R texts slightly vary: the example of epithumia typically occurs on the ethical lists, but in -D other lists epithumia is left out; anger and fear are always included. At any rate, the fact that Aristotle does use such ostensive definitions most probably indicates that the T terms pathē and even pathē tēs psuchēs are too unspecific to pick out the phenomena that AF he has in mind. In addition, he might intentionally avoid giving a proper definition of emotions, either because the corresponding phenomena are too heterogeneous and do R not form a proper kind, or because the class of phenomena have no well-defined -D limits. The closest Aristotle comes to giving even part of a definition of emotions is the T constantly occurring requirement that pathê are followed by pleasure and pain. A AF famous exegetical problem derives from the fact that some particular emotions on our table – in particular, the definitions of gratefulness and love – do not include an R explicit reference to either pleasure or pain. I think that this problem can be solved if -D we do not expect that pleasure and pain play exactly the same role in all types of emotion; the relatively vague formula, that pathê are followed by pleasure and pain, T does allow of a certain flexibility. Thus in the case of anger, for example, the pain we AF feel about the humiliation we just suffered seems to be the reason for the desire to take revenge; gratitude or gratefulness, on the other hand, only has an indirect relation D R to pleasure and pain, in so far as the feeling of being grateful is always caused by a Text 6: The e otio s are those thi gs through hi h, y u dergoi g ha ge, people o e to differ i their judgments and which are accompanied by pain and pleasure, for example, anger, pity, fear, and other such things and their opposites. – ἔσ ι ὲ ὰ άθ ι᾽ ὅσα αβά ο ς ιαφέ ο σι ὸς ὰς ίσ ις οἷς ἕ αι ύ αὶ ἡ ο ή, οἷο ὀ ὴ ἔ ος φόβος αὶ ὅσα ἄ α οιαῦ α, αὶ ὰ ού οις ἐ α ία. (Rhetoric II.1, 1378a20-23) 5 Text 7: By pathos I mean desire (epithumia), anger, fear, courage, envy, joy, friendship (philia) and in general e erythi g that is follo ed y pleasure a d pai . (Nicomachean Ethics II.5, 1105b21-23). 4 7 favour someone did to us, and a favour is something that relieves us from the burden of pain. In a similar way we can account for the absence of pleasure and pain in the AF T definition of love (philein). Love is the most anomalous emotion, both in Aristotle and in real life. Its discussion in the Rhetoric deviates in more than one respect from the discussion of other emotions. Anyhow, in text 11, which immediately follows the R definition of love, Aristotle says: “This being assumed, a friend is necessarily one who -D shares pleasures in good things and distress in painful things, not for some other reason but because of the friend. For all rejoice when the things they want come to T be, but are pained when the contrary happens, so that pains and pleasures are signs of AF what we want.”6 It is by wanting the good for our friends and our beloved ones that we are bound to share pleasures and pains with them, with the result that even love is R intrinsically connected with pleasure and pain. – Thus we can say that all emotions pain, in one way or the other. -D on the left side of our table – the basic ones – do indeed imply states of pleasure or T Before we leave this table of emotions, let me just highlight one more feature of AF the emotions that are mentioned here: many definitions of the particular emotions mention that something is phainomenon – apparently the case. Anger is a sort of pain R because of what appears to be an insult, fear is pain about what appears to be a -D destructive evil, pity is a pain directed at an apparent evil, envy is a pain directed at an apparent success, and so on and so forth. It is quite obvious why this qualification is T inserted: in order to feel a certain emotion, it is sufficient that one takes something to AF be an insult or that one takes something to be dangerous. It is not always the case that what appears as an insult or humiliation to us was actually meant as an insult or D R humiliation; and very often the things we are frightened of turn out to be quite harmless (whether a particular spider is really dangerous or not does not matter if we 6 Text 11: ού ὲὑ ο ι έ ἀ ά φί ο ἶ αι ὸ σ ό ο οῖς ἀ αθοῖς αὶ σ α οῦ α οῖς οῖς ὴ ιά ι ἕ ο ἀ ὰ ι᾽ ἐ ῖ ο · ι ο έ ὰ ὧ βού ο αι αί ο σι ά ς, ῶ ἐ α ί ὲ οῦ αι, ὥσ ῆς βο ήσ ς σ ῖο αἱ ῦ αι αὶ αἱ ἡ ο αί. Rhetoric II.4, 1381a3-8). 8 have an arachnophobic disposition.) For this reason, Aristotle’s technique of calming down anger – to take an example – involves showing that the apparent humiliation AF T was not a real humiliation. It is the purpose of the word “phainomenon” in all the definitions to allow for the difference between something’s being a real cause and something’s being only an apparent ground of a particular emotion, so that there is no -D R need to look for more far-reaching implications of this formula. T III. AF In text 4 Aristotle points out that one has to divide the discussion of each emotion according to three different aspects: “I mean, for example, in speaking of anger, what R their state of mind is when people are angry, and against whom are they usually angry, -D and for what sort of reasons; for if we understood one or two of these but not all, it would be impossible to create anger ...”7 In order to arouse a particular emotion, such T as anger, we have to know with whom we are typically angry, for what reasons, and in AF what kind of state of mind we typically are in when we are angry. The discussion of each emotion must be structured in accordance with these three factors; indeed, R Aristotle sticks to this tripartation almost entirely throughout his discussion of each -D individual emotion (only in the case of love does he fail to insert a passage about its proper reasons.) In the discussion of each emotion, these three factors – with T whom/for what reasons/in what state of mind – are derived from the initial definition AF of the particular emotion: if, say, anger, is such-and-such, then these are the people at which we get angry, these are the reasons, and these are the states of mind in which we D R get angry. Since Aristotle in fact defines anger as a reaction to an insult from people who are not entitled to insult us, Aristotle can derive a list of several patterns of Text 4: „ ῖ ὲ ιαι ἰώθασι ὀ ί σθαι, ὀ ὴ ἐ οι ῖ · ὁ οί οὕ αὶ ὶ ού 7 ῖ ὶ ἕ ασ ο ἰς αὶ ἐ ὶ οίοις· ἰ ὰ ς ὲ αὶ ἐ ὶ ῶ ἄ οιήσ αὶ ιέ ία, έ ᾽ οἷο ὸ ὲ ἓ ἢ ὰ ύο ἔ . ὥσ οὖ αὶ ἐ ὸ ἰ έ ο ὶ ὀ ῆς ῶς ια ί οι ὀ ί οι ἰσί, αὶ ίσι οι ού , ἅ α α ὲ ή, ἀ ύ α ο ἂ ἴ ὴ ὶ ῶ ο ι έ ι ά α ὰς ο άσ ις, ό ο . Rhetoric II.1, 1378a23-27). 9 behavior that are seen as insulting, as well as a list of people at whom we are angry, namely, people that are not entitled to treat us in a dismissive manner. AF T Hence, all the chapters introducing Aristotle’s material about the emotions are, as it were, deductively structured: they start with a definition and derive the reasons, target-persons and states of mind proper to each emotion. It is typical of such R deductive chapters within the Rhetoric that they do not include many practical -D instructions of how to apply the presented material for a rhetorical purpose. In fact, it is only during the concluding parts of a few chapters that Aristotle introduces such T practical advice. In these respects, the chapters on the emotions are entirely AF structurally equivalent to the presentation of the specific topoi in Rhetoric I; this is, in fact, what Aristotle says in text 5: that the lists of propositions concerning emotions R will be derived in the same way as the specific topoi were.8 Indeed, this allows for a -D variety of different applications of the chapters’ contents: Being acquainted with certain emotions is not only useful for arousing emotions, but also, for example, for T dealing with the motives for crimes. AF This again is significant for assessing the theoretical status of the material about the emotions. If Aristotle is himself eager to emphasize that his remarks about the R emotions are developed in the same way as the topoi of Rhetoric I – which are said to be -D accepted or acceptable propositions on each of the issues (that is, propositions that are commonly accepted - not only by experts) – then the chapters on the emotions cannot T be intended to Aristotle’s well-considered theory of emotion. At the same time, AF however, the topoi on the emotions are meant to actually bring about certain emotions and not just to coincide with what people think about them: the arbitrary definitions R of particular emotions that the Rhetoric introduces are neither meant as merely popular D opinions nor as the definite scientific accounts of such emotions. In this respect, it is also worth mentioning that all definitions of particular emotions (texts 8, 9, 10) are Text 5: Just as e ha e dra up a list of propositions on the subjects discussed earlier, let us do so about these and us divide them in the way mentioned. – ὥσ οὖ αὶ ἐ ὶ ῶ ο ι έ ι ά α ὰς ο άσ ις, οὕ αὶ ὶ ού οιήσ αὶ ιέ ὸ ἰ έ ο ό ο . (Rhetoric II.1, 1378a28-30). 8 10 indeed introduced by the phrase “estô”, which I read as “let x be defined by y”. This formulation has received some attention in the literature; in the present context, it AF T seems to be safe to assume that this formulation is meant to indicate that the following definitions are only provisionally adopted: this is less than saying that the following is the definite definition of x, but it is more than saying that this is what R certain people happen to think of x. Therefore, the formula “estô”, reminds us that, -D just as in the case of the topoi from Rhetoric I, the definitions of pathê tês psyches in Rhetoric II should be collected by the dialectician himself – and that the skillful T dialectician can choose between better or worse attested views, but does not aspire to -D IV. R AF compete with an expert. Let get back to the two questions I formulated a while ago: Against that background, T how is it possible for an orator to arouse the emotions of his audience, and what AF presuppositions concerning the nature of emotions are made by such a technique? We have seen that emotions are thought to be psychological states that are connected with R pleasure and pain and that occur under specific circumstances, and that even a -D preliminary definition of each emotion allows us to derive the three factors: at whom/for what reasons/in which states of mind. From these facts, it is not too T difficult to derive a technique to influence the audience’s emotions: if people get angry AF whenever they think they have been insulted by a person who is not entitled to do so, the orator should try to make them think that such an insult has taken place and that it D R was done by a person who was not entitled to act in such a way. As we said, the orator cannot influence the audience’s characters or its members’ bodily conditions, but he can influence at least what these people think about certain facts in the world; and if the orator succeeds in making them think that the typical objects of a particular 11 emotion are given, i.e. the typical reason plus the typical target person, the corresponding emotion will most likely follow. And this is more or less what Aristotle AF T recommends that we do. For example, in text 12, Aristotle recommends the following in the case of the emotion of gratefulness: R Text 12 AF T -D “Thus, since it is evident to whom and for what reasons gratefulness comes about … it is clear speakers should derive it from these sources, showing that some people either were or had been in such pain and need and that others had performed some such service in time of want or were doing so. – ὥ ἐπ φα α ἷ α ἐφ᾽ ἷ α χ α π ἔχ υ , ῆ ἐ ω πα α υα , α α υ ἐ α ῃ πῃ α , π α ἐ α ῃχ ᾳ π α .” (Rhetoric II.7, 1385a30-34) R For the emotion of love and hate we find a similar recommendation in text 139. -D By showing or demonstrating that the typical objects of an emotion are given, the orator can bring about the emotions he likes. Whatever background theory about T emotions one envisages for Aristotle, it is clear that this theory must maintain that AF there is some degree of covariance between what people think and what they feel. Especially if they think that the objects of a certain emotion are given, they will ceteris R paribus feel this emotion. In the Poetics, by the way, Aristotle recommends that for the -D arousal of the tragic affections pity and fear one should look up the corresponding topoi from the Rhetoric. I take this to mean that the topoi from the Rhetoric, which spell T out which situations (reasons) and persons are responsible for certain emotions, (that AF these topoi ) can also be used for incorporating actions and characters into a dramatic plot that make the audience think, for example, that someone has suffered an R undeserved misfortune. The spectators of such a dramatic plot will feel pity in D accordance with the same mechanism: namely, the mechanism that determines that Text 13: Fro this, the it is e ide t that it is possi le for a speaker oth to de o strate that people are enemies and friends and to make them so when they are not and to refute those claiming to be and to bring those who through anger or enmity are on the other side of the case over to whatever feeling he chooses. – φα ὸ οὖ ἐ ού ὅ ι ἐ έ αι ἐ θ οὺς αὶ φί ο ς αὶ ὄ ας ἀ ο ι ύ αι αὶ ὴ ὄ ας οι ῖ αὶ φάσ ο ας ια ύ ι , αὶ ι᾽ ὀ ὴ ἢ ι᾽ ἔ θ α ἀ φισβ οῦ ας ἐφ᾽ ὁ ο έ α ἂ οαι ῆ αί ις ἄ ι . (Rhetoric II.4, 1382a16-19). 9 12 thinking someone to suffer an undeserved misfortune will ceteris paribus lead to the feeling of pity, since pity is a pain about underserved misfortune. The only difference AF T between the rhetorical and the poetical situation is that in the theatre the appropriate actions and characters must be mimetically performed, while in the speech the orator can only state and show that such actions or characters are given. -D R It seems, then, that Aristotle’s technique of arousing emotions exploits above all the assumptions that through our emotional states we are directed at certain external objects, and that whenever we think that such an object is given we feel the T corresponding emotion. It is due to ideas like this that in the 20th century Aristotle AF became a kind of hero for a group of philosophers who were among the pioneers of cognitive theory of emotions. I mean the group of philosophers who started R describing emotions as propositional attitudes. It seems that it is not just coincidental that -D some important members of the propositional attitude school were well-trained historians of philosophy. In text 14 I quoted Anthony Kenny, who states that T emotional attitudes … “like other mental attitudes, have formal objects ... If the AF emotions were internal impressions or behaviour patterns there would be no logical restrictions on the type of object which each emotion could have.” It is clear from R this and the following quotation that these people were mostly driven by the -D Wittgensteinian conviction that a purely mental event would be an Unding, an inconceivable and inexpressible thing. And they thought that the so-called feeling- T theories of emotion were actually committed to such Undinge that are accessible only AF by way of introspection. Hence they tried to show that emotions can only be individuated by reference to the specific type of object towards which they are D R typically directed and not by recourse to introspection or a specific quality of feeling. What Kenny calls the “formal object”, something which is meant to individuate a particular type of emotion, wonderfully corresponds to the Rhetoric’s practice of defining particular emotions. One could also wonder whether Aristotle would have 13 liked the idea that it is such an object that gives each type of emotion a significant form and makes it a determinate being. The only problem is that Aristotle himself AF T nowhere elaborates upon this idea or reflects upon the status of an emotion’s object. Perhaps, one may wonder whether two of the three factors one has to distinguish for each emotion, the causes and the target persons, could be considered as part of an R attempt towards conceptualizing something like the formal object of an emotion, but -D the sad truth is that this tripartite scheme - i.e. at whom/for what reasons/in which states of mind - is not even peculiar to emotions. The Rhetoric uses the same tripartite T scheme, for example, for the purpose of convicting or acquitting somebody of a AF crime: one has to know in what state of mind people do wrong, against what sort of people and for what reasons. R So without disputing that Aristotle’s Rhetoric deserves a place in the hall of fame -D of cognitive emotion theories, one must say that it achieves this place by what it V. AF T implies or presupposes rather than by what it explicitly says. Let me now comment on some possible differences between Aristotle and the R propositional attitude school. If an emotion is essentially connected with what we -D think or with what we judge to be the case, it is not a big step to begin treating the emotions themselves as a sort of evaluative judgment: the pain we feel when thinking T of some future event is like judging that this future event will be harmful. The pain we AF feel when we watch the fate of a tragic hero is like judging that the misfortune he suffers is undeserved. Some representatives of the propositional attitude school hence R came to treat emotions like judgements or even to identify them with judgements (one D such example is mentioned in text 1610). If we continue our method of making the Rhetoric’s presuppositions explicit, we will find some indications that – in spite of his Text 16: My a ger is that set of judge e ts ... a e otio is a e aluati e or a or ati e judge e t. (Robert Solomon, The Passions 1977). 10 14 general congeniality to the propositional attitude school – the author of the Rhetoric would refrain from reducing emotions to judgements. In other words, the account of AF T emotions that is presupposed by the Rhetoric is, I take it, not a judgement theory. I would like to refer you to three such indications. -D R The first indication is given by the example in text 17: Text 17 -D R AF T “People become calm whenever they have spent their anger on someone else, which happened in the case of Ergophilus; for though the Athenians were more angry at him than at Callisthenes, they let him go because they had condemned Callisthenes to death on the previous day.” (Rhetoric II. 3, 1380b10-13) The underlying idea seems to be the following: it is possible to vent one’s anger on T somebody, but then it takes time to regain the energy that is needed for a new AF eruption of anger. Now imagine that what we just called energy is something that affects the state of the body as well; then it can happen that we think or judge that R someone has committed a crime or insult that would deserve our anger, but that we -D are nevertheless unable to feel anger – either no anger at all or not enough anger – because our body has already spent its aggressive energy on something or someone else. In cases like this, what we judge diverges from what we feel; the objects at which AF T we are directed are the same and even our evaluation of these objects might be the D R same, but our emotional state is different. Here is a second indication. For a rational person, judgements are mutually exclusive if they are contradictory or inconsistent. But emotions – according to the Rhetoric – are different; they obey, as it were, different laws of mutual exclusion. According to Aristotle, the simultaneous occurrence of certain types of emotions 15 cannot occur, even if the corresponding judgements are logically consistent. For example (text 1811), a judge who feels the emotion of indignation cannot AF T simultaneously feel the emotion of pity, even if the indignation is about the person x, while there is another person y who would have deserved his pity. The judge may even make the judgement that y suffers undeserved misfortune, but he won’t be able R to pity him while he remains indignant. In cases like these, emotions and judgements -D do not correspond. It is logically consistent, to take another example, to judge that x has offended us and to judge that y could be dangerous for us, but it is not possible to T be afraid and angry at the same time. Aristotle recommends taking advantage of this AF fact for rhetorical purposes: if, for example, we make the judges angry, it is impossible that they will pity the culprit. R There is a third indication that I would like to quote. Unfortunately, the tone of -D this example is politically not quite correct (Aristotle seems to have a reputation for T that). Text 19 -D R AF “And the older people are cowardly and fearful ahead of time about everything; for their disposition is the opposite of the young. They are chilled, but the young are hot, so old age has prepared the way for cowardice.” (Rhetoric II.13, 1389b29-32) Here ‘being chilled’ or ‘cooled’ must not be taken metaphorically; Aristotle T thinks that, in addition to other factors, old people do not tend towards courageous AF and aggressive emotions because their bodies are cooled down and, for the most part, do not produce the heat that is needed for such emotions. Therefore, it can happen D R that an old person is faced with a situation that would have evoked her anger some Text 18: A d so if the spee h puts the judges i to this [hostile or i dig a t] fra e of i d [to ard the opponent] and shows that those who think they deserve to be pitied (and to be pitied on certain grounds) are unworthy to attain it and worthy not to attain it, it is impossible for pity to be felt. – ὥσ ᾽ ἐὰ ούς ι ὰς οιού ο ς α ασ άσῃ ὁ ό ος, αὶ οὺς ἀ ιοῦ ας ἐ ῖσθαι, αὶ ἐφ᾽ οἷς ἐ ῖσθαι, ί ῃ ἀ α ίο ς ὄ ας ά ι ἀ ίο ς ὲ ὴ ά ι ,ἀ ύ α ο ἐ ῖ . Rhetoric II.9, 1387b17-20). 11 16 years before, but now no anger occurs because the body is not in the appropriate state and does not provide enough of the specific heat. In such cases there is a significant AF T mismatch between our judgements and the resulting emotion, due to our bodily conditions. R What I want to derive from these examples is the following. The idea, in the Rhetoric, that our emotions are directed at objects, and in principle follow what we -D think about these objects, is crucial for understanding Aristotle’s technique of arousing emotions, and seems to be a milestone – perhaps unintentionally – in the T philosophical analysis of emotions. And this is just one aspect of the account of AF emotions presupposed in the Rhetoric. But even here, emotions are thought to be bodily changes and to depend on certain physiological conditions. Under normal R circumstances, this fact does not impair the possibility of rhetorically influencing an -D audience’s emotions. For the body of a bodily and mentally healthy person, who is neither too old nor too young, and who is not currently distracted by another, T incompatible emotion, will be able to provide the bodily changes for the emotion that AF corresponds to certain judgments about the world. But under certain circumstances – as the ones we just considered – the somatic side of our emotions may cause a R mismatch between what we judge and what we feel in such a way that the emotions AF T -D are no longer fully malleable by the technique of an orator. VI. R Let us move on to a different point, which might provide difficulties for the art of D rhetoric to influence emotions, and which will further enrich and individuate the account of emotions that seems to be presupposed by the Rhetoric. In the previous discussion about the specific objects of each emotion, about the alleged affinity between Aristotle and the propositional attitude school, I deliberately suppressed the 17 following important point: as quoted above, Aristotle not only requires that one know the reasons and the typical target persons of each emotion, but also requires that one AF T know in what state of mind we are when we feel a particular emotion. However we end up interpreting this talk of a state of mind, it is already clear that changing a person’s state of mind will be quite different from convincing her of the presence of a R certain object such as, e.g., the presence of an actual insult in the case of anger, the -D presence of a real threat in the case of fear, or the presence of an undeserved misfortune in the case of pity. Whereas in the latter case the orator just has to impart T certain factual opinions about what happens in the external world, it seems to be AF much more demanding to get a grip on the general state of mind certain people happen to be in; the inclusion of the subject’s state of mind seems to be a subjective R component within a generally objectivist account of emotions. This poses a problem, -D first of all, for Aristotle himself, since he seems to require not only that the orator has to take this subjective side into account, but also that he should, in principle, be able T to alter the audience’s state of mind such that it becomes receptive to a certain type of AF emotion. It also poses a problem for the interpreter of the relevant texts, for the operation of altering a person’s state of mind can neither be described in terms of R changing a person’s character traits - since we know from Aristotle’s ethics that this is -D supposed to be a long-term process which cannot be effected in a single speech- nor be identified with the operation of provoking short-term arousals of the mind – since T then states of mind would come too close to ordinary emotions, and the attempt to AF arouse emotions by altering emotion-like states of mind would lead to an infinite D R regress. These problems are best solved by taking a closer look at what Aristotle actually thinks these states of mind to be. As you will see, the description of these various states of mind will turn out to be a conglomerate of psychological states, personal circumstances and living conditions of all kinds, some of which are just given and 18 cannot be influenced or altered by the orator. But in spite of the motley appearance of this collection, it is nevertheless possible to isolate a common theme. To begin AF T with, what translators came to render as the “state of mind” or “disposition of mind” that the audience is in – for lack of a better alternative - corresponds to the Greek pôs diakeimenoi or, even simpler and more frequently, pôs echontes. This mode of expression R is quite general and by no means technical. It does not even restrict the relevant -D situations and circumstances to mental or psychological ones. For example, we are told that one “state of mind” in which people are prone to anger is when they desire T something. We experience pain when we do not get what we desire, so that whenever AF someone prevents us from getting what we desire or refuses to support us in getting what we desire, we are easily moved to anger. Another example: we are susceptible to R anger if the contrary happens of what we expected, since this also turns out to be -D painful. When speaking about mildness (praotês), Aristotle says that people are mild T whenever they play, laugh, are at parties, do well, and, in general, when there is no AF pain. People also become mild, as time goes by, and so forth. People experience hope or confidence if they have often been in danger and always managed to escape. We R tend to be indignant if we happen to be virtuous and decent, for such people make -D sound judgements and hate unjust things. Envious people are those who are exceptionally honoured for something, and especially for wisdom or happiness, as well T as those who are more ambitious than others. In fact, in the case of one emotion AF Aristotle summarizes the discussion of such “states of mind” by saying that it is now clear what occasions, times, dispositions and periods of life dispose us to this D R particular emotion. That was just a rough selection of examples, but it should be enough to show the wide range of heterogeneous situations and circumstances that Aristotle collects under the heading of different states in which people are disposed to feel a certain 19 emotion. He refers to episodes of various desires, to expectations, experience, economic circumstances, activities, social relations, temporal relations, character traits, AF T and so forth. Whereas the reader of the Aristotelian ethics might expect character traits to play an eminent role in the ways in which we are disposed to emotions, virtuous or non-virtuous character traits occur only marginally in our present context. R Aristotle even mentions periods of life in the summary just quoted; one may wonder -D whether it is young age or old age as such that disposes us to certain emotions, or whether it is just something we typically experience in either young age or old age that T makes us more susceptible to certain emotions. For example, the observation that AF elderly people are more fearful than younger is partly connected with the general truth that the older we grow, the more we have first-hand experience of vulnerability. Of R course, the two descriptions – that elderly people are fearful, and that someoneone -D who has already experienced the vicissitudes of life is prone to fear – are on quite different levels; but, at least in the present context, Aristotle does not seem to be T interested to hold these levels apart. AF How is possible for the orator to deal with this complex set of preconditions for having certain emotions? I think that the solution that Aristotle has in mind deals R with the peculiar idea of certain judgments people made about themselves. This idea T -D can be seen in text 20: AF Text 20 D R “Given that fear is accompanied by an expectation (prosdokia) of experiencing some destructive incident, it is evident that no one is afraid if he is one of those who thinks he will suffer nothing; [people fear] neither things they do not think they will suffer nor other [people], by whom they do not think [they will be harmed] and not at a time when they do not think so. Necessarily, then, people who think they might suffer something are in fear, and those [who think they are going to suffer] at the hands of those [from whom they expect to suffer]; and they fear these things and at this time. Those experiencing, or thinking they experience, great good fortune do not think they 20 AF T might suffer; therefore, they are insolent and belittlers and rash (for wealth, strength, an abundance of friends, power, makes them so) ….” (Rhetoric II.4, 1382b29-1383a3) In this passage the state of mind of those who tend to be fearful is described in terms of what those people think or believe (oiesthai), and mostly in terms of what they think R or believe about themselves, about their own situation and, in this particular case, -D about their own vulnerability or resistance to imminent destructive incidents. The state of mind of fearful people thus takes the form of certain judgments they make T about themselves - using “judgment” in a very loose and noncommittal sense - AF concerning something like the degree of their own endangerment. As with all judgments, they might be more or less reasonable, since it is sufficient for feeling or R not feeling fear that we believe to be in danger or safe respectively – regardless of -D whether we really are. Decomposing our state of mind into such judgments about ourselves most probably does not imply that we are able to report these judgments – T for, obviously, even children or adults who are not able to give a differentiated AF account of the degree of their own vulnerability will undergo emotions that must correspond to judgments they make about themselves – albeit tacit ones. So, the state R of mind appropriate for a certain type of emotion, or at least part of it, can be analysed -D into self-regarding opinions, beliefs or judgments. Before revealing what kind of a role these judgments about oneself play in the T art of rhetoric - before I let, as it were, the cat out of the bag - let me draw your AF attention to one particular kind of such judgments which I take to be of some philosophical interest: evaluative judgments regarding our own social standing. D R According to Aristotle, we all hold views about what we deserve: what we deserve in terms of the respect other people show for us, in terms of the honours we should receive and in terms of the goods we expect to get as recognition for our achievements and as affirmation of our social standing. This sort of judgement, I take 21 it, is part of the background for most of the emotions of social life that Aristotle discusses. If we take anger again as an example, we already know that anger is defined AF T as desire (orexis), accompanied by pain, for revenge (or what we take to be revenge) for a slight or insult (oligôria) (or what we take to be such an insult) - more precisely, a slight directed against oneself or those near to one, committed by somebody who is R not entitled to treat us this way. The pain involved in anger is a direct reaction to the -D insult suffered. It immediately leads to the desire to take revenge. The expectation that this desire will be satisfied in the not too distant future adds a pleasant aspect to T the emotional complex called anger; dwelling in one’s mind on the upcoming revenge AF will cause a pleasant feeling. Now, a necessary condition is that the insulted person takes the insult to be R undeserved, which might be the result of her belief that the insulting person is not -D entitled to treat her dismissively or disrespectfully. This requires that the insulted person in turn thinks of herself as not deserving this kind of treatment from this sort T of person. So much is clear, but how do we come to having views about how we AF deserve to be treated by such and such a person? The main answer that Aristotle gives to this question appears astoundingly simple and somewhat archaic at first sight: We R expect not to be treated disrespectfully by those who are inferior to us, while the -D people who are entitled to look down on us, and to show that they do, are those who are superior to us. I called this archaic since it seems to presuppose a neatly ordered T society, where everybody is expected to know which his or her rank is within the given AF order. Let me use a famous example from the Iliad, which is probably not absent from the background of Aristotle’s discussion of these questions: Agamemnon, the Great D R King, does not need to put up with disrespectful behaviour from any Greek, while Achilles, due to his own relative standing, would be well advised to respect verbal assaults from Agamemnon as the legitimate articulation of the latter’s superiority. This is the as it were archaic flavour of this construction. However, on closer 22 examination, it turns out that the picture is more subtle: superiority and inferiority can come in many different forms. Indeed, Aristotle says in text 22: AF T Text 22 AF T -D R “People think that they deserve to be treated with respect by those how are inferior in birth, in power, in virtue, and generally in whatever they themselves have much of: for example, in regard to money a rich man [thinks] himself superior to a poor man, and in regard to speech an eloquent one to one unable to express himself, and a ruler [feels superior] to one who is ruled, and one thinks of himself as worthy to rule to one who deserves to be ruled. This it has been said: Great is the rage of Zeus-nurtured kings – π ἴ α π υω ῖ α π ω α , α α , α ᾽ἀ , α ω ἐ ᾧἂ α π χῃ π , ἷ ἐ χ α ὁπ π α ἐ ἀ υ υ ἰπ ῖ α ἄ χω ἀ χ υ α ἄ χ ἄ ἰ ἄ χ α ἀ υ· ἴ α “ υ α ἐ φ ω α ω ”.” (Rhetoric II.2, 1378b34-1379a5) R If we take this seriously, superiority and inferiority are just a matter of having a firm -D rank in a closed society; on the contrary, this superiority-inferiority relation turns out to be relative to the different sorts of activities and the different fields in which we can prove ourselves. The poor man can be superior to the rich man in terms of his looks AF T or, say, his skill at cricket, and the excellent cricket player, who deserves to be admired for his cricket play, might be inferior to his admirers in terms of his looks or R eloquence. Being the Great King, Agamemnon was probably entitled to treat Achilles -D as he did, but he should probably have been more sensitive to the fact that his opponent was superior by far as a warrior. It seems, then, that Aristotle provides the tools for picturing this sort of inter-personal relation as a multi-layered affair; there T might be reasons for feeling either superior or inferior to one and the same person, AF but in different respects. All this is not to say that all those different respects are on R equal footing, but the texture of hierarchies is not as simple as the archaic picture D might suggest. We thus hold views about our standing in relation to others; and we found that there is most probably not just one dimension by which this standing is determined, but a variety of them. When dealing with those emotions of social life, Aristotle again 23 and again refers to the classification of people who are inferior, equal or superior; and in all these cases we should understand different domains in which they might be so. AF T Judgements about what we deserve are therefore one important type of judgements about ourselves, and such judgements about ourselves are a central contributor to our so-called state of mind, that is, our disposition. Without addressing the state of mind R of an audience, the orator cannot produce emotions – at least, this is what we are told -D by Aristotle. But what we think we deserve is dependent on our past experience, on the feedback we get from others. How is it possible, then, for an orator to get a T handle on this factor in order to manipulate the emotions that result? AF The only solution I can come up with might be a bit disappointing; but it is at least a solution that is consistent with what we have learnt so far. This solution I take -D R from text 21 on the handout: Text 21 T -D R AF T “The result is that whenever it is better [for a speaker’s case] that they [i.e. the audience] experience fear, he [i.e. the orator] should make them realize that they are liable to suffering; for [he can say, e.g. that] other even stronger people [than they] have suffered, and he [i.e. the orator] should show (deiknunai) that there are others like them suffering or who have suffered and at the hands of those from whom they did not expect it and suffering things [they did not expect] and at a time when they were not thinking of [the possibility].” (Rhetoric II.4, 1383a8-12) AF What is described in this passage is nothing less than the rhetorical use of the aforementioned judgments about oneself for the manipulation of the audience’s states R of mind. The orator can try to change the audience’s attitude towards imminent D threats, by showing, for example, that they are indeed endangered, that they do not have the means to avert them, that such destructive incidents can happen always and everywhere and when least expect them, etc. By doing so, the orator aims at the opinions or judgments people happen to have about their own state or situation, and 24 by altering these judgments people make about themselves, the orator manipulates, up to a point, the state of mind those people are in. It turns out that addressing AF T audience’s states of mind relies upon the same technique by which the orator deals with the external objects of emotions. In the latter case, the orator tries to change the audience’s opinion about the presence or existence of the object of certain emotions; R in the former case, he also tries to alter their opinions or judgements, this time the -D judgments about their own situation. The essential technique remains the same in both cases. T Up to a point, Aristotle must be right that this is the only way for an orator to AF get a grip on the audience’s state of mind. In principle, it is to some extent possible to influence someone’s judgements about herself. In particular, it seems to be feasible to R highlight certain aspects of her situation. However, this method has its limits: -D Aristotle would certainly agree that we cannot talk a disappointed person who has suffered a lot into believing that she is a hero. In general, the suggested method T reaches its limits when the required self-regarding judgments tend to conflict with a AF person’s manifest experience. What is missing here is a word on the difference between the aspects of people’s state of mind that can be manipulated, and those that R cannot. On the other hand, recalling what we said about the theoretical status of the -D entire endeavour, we cannot seriously expect Aristotle to dwell on such subtleties. And given that the Rhetoric’s analysis of pathê was never meant as a full-fledged theory D R AF T of emotions, it is definitely a nice try. 25