Prop up that triangle with The Rhetorical Arch, Part 2: Telos

Fair warning: this post mentions cannibalism and infanticide.

But first, I concluded the last post alluding to purpose and the topmost part the Rhetorical Arch, Telos.
Whenever we write, we fill it with purpose, whether it’s to earn a grade, to get something changed, or present information to the world: everything we do and write has a purpose and everything included in the writing should support that purpose. Anything that doesn’t help that purpose weakens it.

So back to cannibalism. Many have erroneously believed that Jonathan Swift’s 1729 essay A Modest Proposal, or, A Modest Proposal for Preventing the Children of Poor People From being a Burthen to Their Parents or Country, and for Making Them Beneficial to the Publick, does advocate cannibalism, and while it does discuss it, it's actually a satire: Swift uses cannibalism to discuss something else.

It would be fair to summarize the essay's thesis as “Commodify and cannibalize young Irish and we'll be better off” but that is NOT Swift's goal or purpose. Swift, who was Irish himself, wrote it as a scathing critique of the heartless way the British Empire was treating the poor in Ireland, and the numerous other illogical proposals to remedy problems the empire faced in dealing with the poor. He was tired of seeing people so callously dealt with and put it into drastic terms to shock people into a better understanding of just what they were doing: treating the Irish as subhuman; an issue to resolve, not people to help.

To break this issue down rhetorically would be to consider the Telos of Swift's essay, namely, his purpose or goal in writing it.

Writing for Telos requires keeping track of what you want to accomplish by producing whatever it is you're writing. For example, the writer of a love letter tries to win the recipient's affection, whereas a resume and cover letter display one's qualifications in the hope of gaining a job. When writing different forms, the writer should keep their purposes in mind; straying from them will cause awkward moments. Just imagine confusing the two: reminding your emotional crush of your career history, and including poetic displays of affection in a job application will jeopardize your chances in either situation, and therefore represents a failure in Telos.

Returning to the image of the Rhetorical Arch, Telos goes at the top of the arch: the keystone. In architecture, the keystone is a large stone designed to fit in the apex of the arch, making the arch self-supporting. Without the keystone, an arch must be propped up by other means, making the arch, well, useless. With an appropriately placed keystone in a well made arch any scaffolding needed to prop it up can be removed. 

Rhetoric works the same way: without a clear purpose or Telos, there's nothing to hold everything up and you'll have to hope everything just balances out and stays up.

Failure anywhere in the rhetoric can cause everything else to fall:

• Insufficient research and a poor display of authority on the topic? Failure in Ethos, making the entire argument and your premises questionable.
• The word choice and general style are too complicated (or too simple) for the audience? Failure in Pathos suggesting the argument itself is inappropriate for the audience, and therefore, poorly aimed.
• Logical fallacies and mistakes in reasoning? Failure in Logos, making the argument itself hard to follow and understand, regardless of your credentials or style.
• Addressing issues that aren't pertinent or resolve in a realistic time frame? Failure in Kairos, making the argument itself, no matter how well structured it is, unimportant.

Telos is your essay's purpose and therefore gives purpose to everything else in the essay. Swift’s A Modest Proposal shows us, through its use of satire and shocking subject matter, just one of many unique ways people can achieve their purpose, but no matter how you do it, remember: Telos keeps everything together just as everything else keeps it propped up.

Prop up that triangle with The Rhetorical Arch, Part 1: Kairos

The Rhetorical Triangle is a common representation of three rhetorical aspects identified by the Greek philosopher Aristotle: Ethos (Authority), Pathos (Audience Awareness), and Logos (Logic). These are universal: you always need authority for someone to listen, to tailor your words for your audience, and to make sure what you say makes sense. By paying attention to these you make sure your essays and arguments are well structured and make appropriate appeals. However, these appeals alone are limited: there are important things Rhetoric can do that aren't addressed by Ethos, Pathos, and Logos alone.

This is where the rhetorical appeals Kairos and Telos come in. Added to the original Ethos, Pathos, and Logos, we have 5 rhetorical appeals, and rather than going from Triangle to Pentagon, I prefer the image of an arch: Telos supported by Ethos, Pathos, Logos, and Kairos. 

Before explaining that and why Telos gets to sit on top, we need to discuss Kairos.

Kairos literally translates from Greek as “the opportune moment” and I like to think of it in terms of timeliness. Kairos asks us to consider the best time-frame for the argument. Not the timing within the argument, (the best place for a given paragraph or statement or quote), but the timing of the argument: the broader context asking what is the best time for the argument: why does an argument need to be made now, or at what time should it be made?

For example, let's say you're arguing over which sport team is better. When this argument happens will matter and will change the argument. If it's pre-season, the argument will involve speculation about the prospects of the other teams in the league, but if it's on the eve of a championship match, the argument will be more pertinent because of the pending match and won't involve the entire league, only relevant matches. But what if it's not during the season? At best, it would be poorly timed and awkward.

Here's another example. A fifteen year old is going to have much more luck arguing for driving lessons than an eleven year old because of the timing. The fifteen year old is much closer to legally driving, making it a more relevant issue, whereas the eleven year old is still a few years away, making it difficult, if not impossible, for the younger one to win this argument.

Kairos contextualizes. It reminds us we make our arguments at specific times and in tandem with outside influences, and to consider what makes this argument relevant for today. An argument, for example, about the use of crossbows would be out of place today, but in 1139 CE when Pope Innocent II reportedly banned the use of crossbows on Christians, it would have been much more pertinent. And looking to the future, Kairos shows that things need to be changed or done in a given time frame, at certain times for certain reasons, and not just “now” or “soon”. An argument could focus on how changes need to be made to a program, but that the changes need to be implemented over a series of weeks or months, or even that certain steps need to be fulfilled before others can be.

While Kairos does help round out our arguments, it isn't what tops the arch and gives it purpose: that's where Telos comes in.