An Epiphany on Emotional Pain

Because there is no right or wrong in rhetoric

This is just a momentary thought on communication and category errors. It occurs to me since there is no informational content in rhetoric, it is a fundamental category error to attempt to adjudicate a rhetorical conflict in terms of right and wrong.

To say what is right, or correct, and to determine what is wrong, or incorrect, is an intrinsically dialectical task, and it is one that cannot be performed in the absence of information. It is why most efforts to do so are futile, and usually result in simply attempting to ascertain which of the two erring parties is more in error, which of course accomplishes nothing.

What this suggests is that a different metric entirely is required for distinguishing different gradients of rhetoric, and since a) the purpose of rhetoric is emotional manipulation and b) most rhetoric is employed for the purpose of personal conflict, the correct metric is the amount of emotional pain inflicted on the target of the rhetoric.

It’s never easy explaining philosophical matters to the unwashed masses.

Therefore, if you find yourself in a situation that involved rhetorical conflict, rather than attempting to concern yourself with who is right and who is wrong, consider the extent you wish to inflict emotional pain on the other individual. In some cases, you will want to inflict the maximum amount possible. In others, you will wish to minimize it, or perhaps even avoid it altogether.

In any case, this metric might be described as a doloristic one, and because it more accurately reflects the nature of the engagement, should permit those who grasp the concept to not only utilize rhetoric more effectively when required, but also avoid using it to harm those upon whom they do not truly wish to inflict emotional pain.

It belatedly occurs to me that I first touched upon the concept, albeit indirectly, in my epic fantasy novel A THRONE OF BONES:

Marcus waited expectantly, but no answer was forthcoming. So, he spread his hands and continued.

“To return to our earlier theme: During my clerical studies, I was introduced to some of the great minds of history. Oxonus, Patroclus, Occludus, Quadras Empiricus, and greatest of all, Aristoteles. Aristoteles was an enthusiastic categorizer, and in one of his more important works, with which I have no doubt as a learned man you are intimately familiar, he divided men into two categories.

“You may recall that he concluded there are men who are capable of being persuaded of a truth through dialectic, which is to say sweet reason, or if you prefer, the inexorable progression of logic. And then, he asserted there are also those who cannot be instructed and therefore cannot be convinced of anything through argument based on knowledge, but rather require manipulation and persuasion through having their emotions played upon, which device he calls rhetoric. Would you say that you agree with this, Gnaeus Junius?”

The big centurion was bewildered and all but cringing before Marcus now. He shook his head slowly back and forth. “I would say…I would say I don’t know. That is, maybe, I suppose. Yeah, why not?”

“Ah, but then here is where we must part company, you and I,” Marcus leaped from the table and began pacing back and forth. “Although you are in the most noble of company and I stand alone, I will nevertheless insist that you are incorrect. In my view, there is a third category which Aristoteles uncharacteristically failed to investigate. And since there is at present no word to accurately describe this third category of men, it falls to me to coin it. So I ask you, if a man who is persuaded by knowledge is susceptible to the dialectic, while a man who is persuaded by the verbal arts is susceptible to the rhetoric, how then shall we describe a man who may be persuaded only by pain?”

“A masochist,” Trebonius burst out enthusiastically. Marcus stopped pacing and shot him an irritated look. Abashed, Trebonius shrugged and muttered an unintelligible apology.

“This is not a discussion open to the public, Gaius Trebonius, it is a dialogue. From duo, or two, you understand, and while I can only applaud your enthusiasm concerning this discourse, I am much more interested in hearing the considered opinion of Gnaeus Junius on the subject.”

The big centurion’s face was increasingly coming to resemble that of a sacrificial ox as it was led to the altar. He shook his head again, clearly confused by Marcus’s flights of scholarly references.

“The word I had in mind is dolorectic, Gnaeus Junius. Dolorectic. Would you say that you are a dolorectic man? I myself am not. I happen to prefer the dialectic. But, as you can no doubt see, if you cannot be convinced by either logic or emotions, this leaves only pain. And I am sure you realize, Gnaeus Junius Honoratus, that it will not be long before Barbatus returns with Hortensis and his prisoners. So, I am hoping that you will aid me on my voyage of discovery, that you will consent to serve as my Vergilius and help me understand if you are a man of the dialectic, the rhetoric, or the dolorectic.”