In this chapter, I argue that Plato borrows from Euripides’ Antiope, in order to frame the terms of the debate between Socrates and Callicles in the last part of the Gorgias about whether the philosophical or the political life is best. I argue that Plato’s engagement with this tragedy is an instance of paratragedy, that is, the non-parodic adaptation of a work of tragedy in order to enrich the dramatic situation. What redeems the Antiope in Plato’s eyes is its endorsement of the superiority of the intellectual over the political life. In adapting the Antiope for his own purposes, Plato defends an account of good life as spent in the cooperative pursuit of wisdom and virtue. This life runs up against two limits that are thematized in the Gorgias: human obstinacy, the refusal to cooperate and recognize the force of argument; and endemic uncertainty due to our finite capacity for argument. Since Socrates is portrayed as both defending the life of philosophy in argument, and actively living it, then the Gorgias itself counts as an ideal tragedy. This reading of the dialogue sheds important light on the arguments concerning the nature and value of rhetoric. In the end, I assess the dialogue in light of the constraints on ideal tragedy articulated in Chapter 4.

This chapter reconstructs the relationship between the Gospel of Truth’s author and his intended audience, arguing that its author ensures its rhetorical effectiveness by his use of keywords and vivid imagery.

This chapter examines the likelihood of voluntary compliance in public health contexts, with emphasis on lessons learned during COVID-19 regarding trust in mask wearing, social distancing, and vaccine uptake.

Kant’s thoughts on language as a practical tool of what he would call “pragmatic formation” in his pedagogical writings are often overlooked. If anything, Kant is read from selected passages of his third Critique as being opposed to the arts of oratory and persuasion. This chapter will canvas Kant’s supposed animosity to the persuasive employment of language – rhetoric, in a term – and detail the complexity that lies behind Kant’s reaction to language as a tool of action among moral agents. Drawing upon his anthropological lectures and writings, as well as his religious and aesthetics work, I will argue that Kant leaves space in his system for a moralized, and moralizing, use of persuasive language in human community. Language use can draw upon inclinations and desires in an agent, and thereby compromise their autonomy. Yet there are ways that Kant speaks of or hints at that use language in ways that move us to be free. Kant’s aesthetics also allows room for vivid presentations as a way to make clear to one’s listener what one already knows in a nonmanipulative manner; these presentation styles are tied in with Kant’s religious thought, as well as with the western rhetorical tradition in general.

Tusculans 1 offers a multi-faceted refutation of the proposition ‘death is an evil’, accomplished in part through a detailed doxography of a wide range of philosophers of different schools. This survey is far from a jumble of contradictory views, however: Cicero avoids dogmatic insistence on the arguments of any single school and has instead crafted a minimally sectarian protreptic designed to convince readers of any philosophical persuasion that death is not an evil, an approach whose origin he traces back to Socrates’ reflections on death in Plato’s Apology. Furthermore, I argue that this approach amounts to a direct challenge to Cicero’s philosophical rivals, a group of Epicurean authors writing in Latin – including, I speculate, Lucretius – whom Cicero had criticiaed in several prefaces for their narrow-minded dogmatism. In Book 1 Cicero therefore tackles a topic of perennial interest, illustrates how philosophy can and should be written, and attempts to marginalise his Epicurean opponents.

Offensiveness is a key issue in contemporary public discourse, especially in relation to media content. Stand-up comedy has provided an important site for discussions of offensiveness, both inside of performances and in the commentary on comedy in other forms of popular media. This chapter provides a brief summary of some well-known examples of stand-up comedy that are embroiled in debates on offensiveness, before engaging in a discussion of what constitutes offensive stand-up comedy. The chapter theorises the discursive work that offensive stand-up comedy does in contemporary contexts through concepts of rhetoric, the performative, and symbolic violence. Comedy and harm are discussed and an explanation of what researchers have described as the impacts of humour and comedy is given. Throughout the chapter, the points made are elaborated with extracts from British stand-up comedian Ricky Gervais’ Netflix special Supernature (2022), especially through an analysis of jokes made by Gervais about transgender people. These and other jokes are examined alongside the disclaimers used in the stand-up comedy performance.

Chapter 1 provides an overview of the central argument of the book. Medical anthropology, psychology, and psychiatry must steer a course between realism and constructivism, integrating the useful features of both perspectives. Metaphor theory and 4-E cognitive science provide ways of integrating cognitive and socio-cultural processes. Metaphor production and comprehension involves cognitive and emotional processes embodied and enacted through rhetoric and social discourse. These practices constitute a hermeneutic circle that can be traced from body to person to social world and back. They show how symbols and things live in the same world. This work has implications for understanding the ways illness experience and healing practices are embedded in larger systems of knowledge/power. The metaphors that arise in individuals’ struggles to make sense of their predicaments and to heal from affliction are borrowed from everyday concepts of mind and body, as well as the political language of power, resistance, and dissent. Every metaphor lends power to a particular view of the world. We must judge the value of metaphors on their moral, political, aesthetic, and pragmatic implications.

In the effort to deliver the American press from a “death spiral,” advocates often fall back on describing the press function. It is generally explained as a matter of legal doctrine (what the Supreme Court says the press does) and political theory (that a free press is central to democracy). But advocates should also conceptualize the function as a matter of rhetoric. How advocates describe the press’s work can change the degree to which the public cares about that work. In this era of crisis and distraction, that caring is key to preserving and even reimagining the press. This essay describes how press advocates can use rhetoric as a framework to rename press functions and imagine new ones in service of a dynamic and invigorated press.

This chapter discusses MacCormick’s activities – literary, editorial, administrative, political – while he was a pupil at Glasgow High School and then a student studying philosophy and literature at the University of Glasgow (1959–63). It focuses on MacCormick’s playful and pleasurable explorations of language and the significance that language already then had for him, as was evident in the pieces he wrote and the editorial work he did both at school and at university. The chapter also discusses MacCormick’s participation in the remarkable debating culture of the University of Glasgow, where MacCormick was President of the Glasgow University Student Nationalist Association, and where he formed numerous life-long friendships (e.g., with Donald Dewar and John Smith). It considers the significance of his exposure – which was intense in Glasgow – to the norms and standards of debating.

Cicero and his brother, Quintus, went on a two-year study tour of Greece and Asia Minor, visiting major centers such as Athens and Delphi and seeking training from the leading teachers of rhetoric and philosophy. This enabled Cicero to rebuild his oratorical technique so that he could speak with less exertion. Upon his return, Cicero resumed his career at the bar and then stood for the office of quaestor. Duly elected, he was allotted a post in Sicily, where he served for a year. When he returned to Rome, he took his seat in the senate and continued pleading in the courts, mostly for unimportant clients, and publishing his speeches.

Cicero was born in Arpinum, a town some sixty miles southeast of Rome, on January 3, 106 bce. His family was well-to-do (of equestrian status) but previously involved only in local politics. His brother, Quintus, was one to four years younger. Their father took care to see that they received the best education available, first in grammar and rhetoric, later in philosophy, supplemented by observing the activities of a leading jurist. Cicero was a keen student and began writing, with poetry, a book on rhetoric, and a translated book on philosophy to his credit by the mid-80s. At the end of the decade, he began pleading in the courts and publishing his speeches. He won Terentia, an upper-class woman, as his wife and started a household.

Through patronage of art, architecture, and classical scholarship and through development of classically inspired rhetoric and ceremonies, the popes of the medieval and early modern periods promoted the recovery and reinterpretation of ancient Greek and Roman culture. Critics (including Roman civic leaders, Renaissance humanists, and Protestant reformers) pilloried the papal court as a symbol of corruption and cultural stagnation, but pontiffs and their advisers continued to adapt ancient and early Christian precedents to support their traditional claims to authority and to justify their new initiatives. This chapter argues that the papacy played a vital role in recovering and using the classical legacy throughout the (long) Middle Ages. It also argues that the venues and motivations for this appropriation remained more consistent than standard periodization of the medieval, Renaissance, and Counter Reformation papacy has suggested.

Lysias, the son of Cephalus, was an Athenian logographer, a wealthy metic and a staunch democrat: In the Dictionary of Received Ideas about Greek antiquity, the entry devoted to Lysias would probably read along these lines. If there was ever a man identified with a status, a social class, a professional function and a political identity, it is indeed the orator Lysias, whose family, originally from Syracuse, benefits from an exceptional documentary focus. Considering all the available evidence and his path through life as a whole, a completely different image of the man emerges. Outside of the brief context of the civil war, Lysias was never depicted as a metic and never defined himself as such; nothing, moreover, indicates that he particularly suffered from this status or that he sought to be a naturalized Athenian at any price after the failure of his bid for citizenship in 403. Likewise, considering his life as a whole, his attachment to the democratic regime is not as clear to see as his vibrant proclamations in Against Eratosthenes suggest: The company he kept and the choice of his clients plead for a much more nuanced approach. Finally, his conversion to logography also deserves to be put into perspective: Was he not already considered a brilliant ‘sophist,’ albeit not a logographer, before the beginning of the civil war? He certainly continued to be considered as such after the reconciliation. Beyond the din of stasis, which forced everyone to choose their camp and froze individuals in clear-cut positions, Lysias’ life reveals that Athenian society was much more fluid than it appears in terms of status, partisanship or profession. On deeper examination, the life of Lysias seems marked by a form of uncertainty due not only to gaps in the source material, but also to the irreducible complexity of Athenian community life. Around this ill-defined man gravitate shifting choruses whose principles of composition and recomposition can be defined by taking advantage of the exceptional light shone on them by the shock of the civil war.

The rhetoric of Roman moralising has often seemed alien to modern readers. This book, in linking together studies of apparently diverse topics, might be seen as appropriating a trope of Roman moralistic discourse, presenting arguments concerning different subjects as parallel so that they may serve to reinforce one another. A better understanding of this and similar literary devices, as they operate in Roman moralising texts, can help us to make sense of some features of those texts which modern readers have found puzzling. We begin with an apparently bizarre example of this kind of rhetoric (included in the book of rhetorical exercises put together by the elder Seneca).