We rhetoricians (yes, it’s a word) joke at conventions about our “definition”–that is, the definition of rhetoric we use. Because we all agree there is no perfect, one definition; instead, like the terrain it maps, it’s messy and depends on purpose. We’re a field of pragmatists (of the best and worst ilk).

I often go to Aristotle, even if Cicero is my true love (he used the term eloquentia, which I’ve published on elsewhere). Aristotle leads us to thinking of rhetoric, just like honor and most other things that circulate in a culture, like a scarcity economy. It is the task of ‘in any particular situation, finding the available means of persuasion.’

What’s really fantastic about this is that Aristotle knew very little about scarcity. Rhetoric for him was, as it was for Plato, a scarcity among the masses, but not necessarily the elite. The social elites of Athens, if anything, had to remove all the noisy confusion of the forum and pnyx (the deliberation spot). The masses, on the other hand, couldn’t get enough of it, and in fact, needed to be shepherded with this tool because of their lack of time or impatience for thinking things out more fully.

Today, our corporate rhetorics have made us into information elites but with only the brains of the masses. We have more access to information than ever before, but we cannot process it, and are thus left to the devices of simple images, intuitive leaps (we can call this “gut”), and friend and family networks to make decisions for us.

Enough of that for now, though. This post is about Aristotle, because they just announced his school is re-opening.

 

I have written with a co-author Art Walzer on Aristotle’s Rhetoric. In that piece, we dispelled many of the hunches and claims made by Brad McAdon: that first century editors mishandled the subject of rhetoric (because we know they were well-trained); that Theophrastus likely wrote most of the text (because we have no reason to believe this against any other member of the school or Aristotle himself, and McAdon uses a suspect list); and that the text is incoherent (as it is more coherent internally and to the rest of the Aristotelian corpus that McAdon lets on).

For the point of this blog, though, the more interesting part is Aristotle’s creation of the lecture notes we have today as his Rhetoric, and how his social position played a role in its composition.

The text, in my opinion, is a joint venture of the entire 20-year seminar group called the Lyceum, funded by the Macedonian Empire. James Berlin wrote about the text of the Rhetoric as a management of unrest. He argues that the text can be read as text for ruling power, controlling the available means of persuasion by mastering the topics of the ‘democracy’ under which Athenians believe they lived in a heavily imbalanced oligarchy under Macedonian rule. He explains (p63), “while the constitutional guarantees of ordinary citizens are not affected, their power is challenged and ultimately diminished through the management of discursive practices designed to render hegemonic the ideology of a rich and politically elite.”

What this dispels is the idea that rhetoric was a pro-democratic art under Aristotle (Hauser), with a robust public sphere and the centrality of phronesis (practical judgments) for the wise man.

On the other side of this, you have Carol Poster, who claims the strongest opposite–that Aristotle was actually antirhetorical, and merely taught students general rhetorical strategies to know how to deal with the degraded state of things in an Athenian democracy he loathed.

It’s easy to then just throw up your hands (as our interlocutor, McAdon does) and say that the text is totally incoherent and nearly useless for its ambiguity on the status of rhetoric: is it ethical? truthful? pragmatic or utilitarian? ultimate? None of the answers are clear.

This is where I think the recent archeology can be useful. Between these two opposing opinions, and seeing the text as still capable of having some unified answers, we can turn to what I call the “million dollar work.”

Imagine you are Aristotle. Twenty years or so studying under Plato, from age 17 to 37. As Athens turns anti-Macedonian, you head out with your buddy in philosophy, Xenocrates, over to Atarneus and Assos.

 

There you meet Hermias, a leader who begins putting into effect your theories on rhetoric and politics with great success. Hermias and Aristotle gain the trust of King Philip of Macedonia.

Xenocrates and most Athenians have deserted you because you are too Macedonian. You head out with your friend of god-like eloquence, Theophrastus, to study natural sciences on the island of Lesbos  to escape (part of Hermias’ expansion, using Aristotle’s diplomacy).

 

Unfortunately and fortunately, you are called back to become the tutor for Alexander. This is fortunate because you are chosen over Isocrates and the current leader of Plato’s Academy, given your success with Hermias, politically and philosophically. Philip gave them the Temple of the Nymphs at Mieza as their classroom.

In return for teaching Alexander, Philip agreed to rebuild Aristotle’s hometown of Stageira, which Philip had razed, and to repopulate it by buying and freeing the ex-citizens who were slaves, or pardoning those who were in exile.

 

But as you earn more power and right some previous wrongs, other things fall apart. Hermias is becoming too powerful and successful as an ally to the other Greeks and Phillip cuts off  communication and support. Without this powerful ally, he will be killed by the Persians, and you write a hymn and marry his daughter (Pythias) so that his memory might live on.

Aristotle’s story so far should remind us of a few things. First, that he was a stranger most places, and even his knowledge in politics, rhetoric, and ethics could not ensure stability, nor could his research win him a permanent home. He lost friends often because of resentments of his outsider, elite status, whether through his Macedonian ties or his Athenian schooling. But at the same time, he is emboldened that his ideal state had seen a glimmer of life at Atarneus–he turned a despotic rule into a more egalitarian system using Platonic tools that he developed, adapted, and refined in practice. That same success was seen as a tool, if Phillip can capture it, but as a threat in the hands of Hermias.

The story from here is more well known. Greece falls to Macedonia, with a shift among its elites to support Macedonian protection and trade.

Alexander becomes king, and Aristotle is given the Lyceum. Vastly wealthy and influential at fifty, he has some of the most valuable land, with a temple to Apollo Lyceus sitting on it, with gardens. Strolling through the gardens with students, taking a midday meal with students, and giving public lectures at night, this was a sweet gig (as long as you were on Alexander’s good side and could also keep the Athenians happy with your external influence).

So, this is where Berlin reminds us that Aristotle was “an elite,” from his Marxist perspective.

Let’s also look at the other side, though. Aristotle had helped convert Atarneus to more peaceful, egalitarian politics under its philosopher-king, who made treaties with surrounding areas.  The Lyceum was a model of egalitarian practice. Every ten days a new student would be elected to handle the administrative duties of the school, with assignments of scientific and historical research shared. That research contributed to the lectures and study of the school, all of which grew in popularity and prestige.

And though his alliance with Phillip and Alexander had always been tenuous, when Alexander killed Aristotle’s nephew Callisthenes for not treating him with sufficient reverence, Aristotle gave up his academic program under Alexander and went into exile. (An alternate version of the story, and probably also true, is that Aristotle feared anti-Macedonian Athenians, just as he had the first time he left from Plato’s Academy to Atarneus).

More important than all this though is the elitism that comes with knowledge in this time: Aristotle’s own capacity for manipulation and political power was a threat to both Athens and Alexander, as it had been to Philip with Hermias. Pseudo-democracy and empire both felt pressure from Aristotle’s methods of rhetorical.

Parts of the Rhetoric were probably written in the early phase in Atarneus with Xenocrates, in which Aristotle advises on dialectic and rhetoric in Book 1.1. The aspects on common topics and specifics seem to be contemporary with the Topics, all of this period. Other parts, such as the classification of public Athenian emotions, I have to imagine, were written within the Lyceum, with the work of students observing attributes in the forum and at the pnyx. The reason I suspect this is the projects he would have been tasked with–chronicling the lingering public emotions, stylistic elements, and argumentative patterns of a city-state increasingly run by pro-Macedonian elite. These lecture notes were likely updated throughout Aristotle’s life, so that the examples used Book II, Chapters 23-24 may indicate original creation during the Lyceum’s existence or may have been updated for delivery in that time period.

We lose very little by leaving behind pro-democratic Aristotle. It seems that Aristotle was more interested in working with the support of the Macedonians, cataloguing and protecting the remaining practices of Athenian democracy, and also anticipating a tool of finding the available means of persuasion that would unite city-states and overcome conflict as he had accomplished in Atarneus. Strong constitutions and treaties, participatory discourse of probabilistic practical reasoning among the elites, and the illusion of democracy through full-scale rhetoric for those incapable of applying themselves fully. As I said in the article, who better to do this than the author of the syllogism (for the elites) and enthymeme (for the masses and for the elites to study the masses and complete their enthymemes)?

The lecture notes and field notes that compose our books were never fully edited and compiled. Topics like rhetoric and ethics functioned well both as lecture notes for students during the day (in their technical genres, modes, and details), as well as material for public dialogues and talks at night (in their wide-ranging application, tools, and uses).

Given the funding from Macedonia, the practices and location of the school, and its increasing success as a force in Athenian life during and immediately following Alexander and Aristotle’s lives, Aristotle had to be careful about what could be said in which contexts. Lecture notes for and by students could be looser; those for the public would need to be framed as as dialogue if they were going to express strong opinions. We don’t have those today, but we can imagine them as a cross between our text and Greek theatre.

Aristotle died one of the wealthiest 300 citizens in Athens (Wood and Wood, 212). His major life decisions inscribed the memory of other academic-political elites, like Hermias and Callisthenes, as the noblemen of the times, remembered as the best (aristoi) amidst the chaos of democracy and empire.

The notes and lectures on Rhetoric we have are neither the “notes on cookery by a doctor” (in other words, notes on filling but empty bombast, by a trained philosopher)  as Poster calls it (224) or the doctor’s blueprint for a perfect democracy of reasonable people (as Hauser’s uptake would have us believe).

Instead, it’s the notes of a wealthy researcher owing obligations to his donors (and thus bolstering empire), but also hoping to sustain more egalitarian practices so that the worst pitfalls of weak, superficial democracy and totalitarian whim might be avoided. We can say this not because it’s exactly like our present needs for corporate rhetoric, but because we recognize the complexity of motives and contexts that surround us.

Timeline:

• 384     Aristotle is born.
• 367     Aristotle enrolls in the Academy.
• 359     Philip II of Macedonia begins his rule.
• 356     Alexander the Great is born.
• 347     In spring, anti-Macedonians gain the power in Athens.
• 347     Aristotle and Xenocrates travel to Atarneus and Assos.
• 347     Plato dies in May, Speusippus leads the Academy.
• 347/6(?)         Aristotle marries Pythias.
• 346     Athens makes treaty with Philip II of Macedonia.
• 345-344         Aristotle travels to Lesbos, works with Theophrastus.
• 344?   Aristotle and Theophrastus travel to Stagira?
• 344     Aristotle 384-322 (fl., philosopher)
• 343/342         Aristotle travels to Mieza, to be Alexander’s tutor.
• 342     Philip II of Macedonia (fl., king)
• 341/340         Hermias is killed by the Persians.
• 340?   Aristotle’s tutorship of Alexander ends? Or maybe until 336?
• 340/339         Philip is at war, Alexander is king in his absence.
• 338     Philip II defeats the Greeks, Hellenic League is formed.
• 338     Isocrates dies.
• 337     Greek war on Persia is declared.
• 336     Philip II is killed, Alexander III (the Great) is king.
• 335     Athens and other cities fail a revolt against Alexander.
• 335     Aristotle travels to Athens and opens the Lyceum.
• 330     Theophrastus 370-286 (fl., Lyceum)
• 327     Alexander marries Bactrian princess Roxane.
• 327     Callisthenes executed by order of Alexander.
• 323     Alexander the Great dies in June.
• 323/322         Aristotle travels to Chalkis (no later than spring 322).
• 322     Aristotle dies, Theophrastus leads the Lyceum.

 

Bibliography

 

Philip Merlan,”Isocrates, Aristotle and Alexander the Great” Historia: Zeitschrift für Alte Geschichte Bd. 3, H. 1 (1954), pp. 60-81.

Carol Poster, “Aristotle’s Rhetoric against Rhetoric: Unitarian Reading and Esoteric Hermeneutics” American Journal of Philology 118, 2 (Summer 1997): 219-249.

Brad McAdon, “Reconsidering the Intention or Purpose of Aristotle’s Rhetoric” Rhetoric Review 23, 3 (2004): 216- 234.

Donal J. Stantona & Goodwin F. Berquist Jr., “Aristotle’s rhetoric: Empiricism or conjecture?” Southern Speech Communication Journal 41, 1 (1975): 69-81.

James Berlin in A Rhetoric of Doing: Essays on Written Discourse in Honor of James L. Kinneavy, edited by Stephen P Witte, Neil Nakadate, Roger Cherry (Carbondale: Southern Illinois Press, 1992): 55-64.