Gingrich Goes White!

Newt Gingrich pulled off a superb virtue tactic at last night’s GOP debate. Fully prepared for the first question, Gingrich declared himself to be “appalled.” He got a standing ovation and, probably, a bunch more votes in tomorrow’s South Carolina primary. Why? Because he fought virtue (the rhetorical kind, not to be confused with the real kind) with virtue (ditto).

The moderator, CNN reporter John King, began by asking about a former wife’s revelation that Gingrich asked for an open marriage. Gingrich responded by attacking King.

I am appalled that you would begin
a presidential debate on a topic like that.

King replied that Gingrich mentioned Monica Lewinsky in every speech during the Clinton scandal. But it didn’t matter. CNN, and the “mainstream media” in general, make an easy target for the Republican Party’s right wing.

And, as we’ve pointed out before, virtue makes for one of the most powerful rhetorical tools—one that Obama lacks, by the way.

One of the three aspects of ethos, or character, virtue makes people believe you share their values and live by those values. So how does a serial marriage-vow-breaker employ virtue? By calling the accusation a sin. Whether you think King’s question was sleazy doesn’t matter. What matters is whether South Carolina voters thought it was sleazy. And, judging by the reaction of the audience, they did. Sleazier, presumably, than Gingrich’s marital antics.

Virtue is a topic of demonstrative rhetoric, the language of preachers. It deals with right and wrong, with sinners and those sinned against. It’s the most tribal form of rhetoric, and the kind of rhetoric you hear most in politics today. Which is unfortunate.

Aristotle designated deliberative rhetoric, the language of choices, as the rhetoric of politics. But public discourse today deals with tribes and values, not problems and decisions. That’s one big reason why Congress just sits there, appalled.

Figaro especially loves the word “appalled.” It means, literally, “turned pale.” Coming from the whitest of all candidates, that word is just perfect.

Figaro's Favorite Campaign Ad

The ad—brought to you by Newt Gingrich’s “Take that, Bain Boy”superpac—accuses Mitt Romney of being (a) from Massachusetts and (b) French. You know, like John Kerry.

The voiceover employs a dirimens copulatio, the but-wait there’s more figure. (Here’s an explanation and pronunciation.) You see the device a lot on infomercials: But that’s not all! This thing not only slices and dices, it speaks French! 

Quibblers might say that the clip actually proves that Mitt actually can’t speak French. He mouths third-grade Frog with an accent that’s positively gauche.

Others might say that Massachusetts—you know, that place with one of the lowest unemployment rates, highest education levels, most innovative health care, and most annoying accent—isn’t something to be entirely embarrassed about. 

But Figaro knows for a fact that some of those Massholes actually know foreign languages. Which makes anyone from that state completely unqualified to be president.

So why do we love the ad? Because of the Frenchy music in the background! It’s so bad that it makes it impossible to see Kerry—um, we mean Romney—without thinking of a bagette. First-rate ethos work, Newtons!

LOL Punditcats

Meghan McCain, daughter of a former presidential candidate and hapless political commentator, pulled off a marvelous malapropism on MSBC.  The Obamas, she said, deserve “an emoticon of privacy.” OMG! They absolutely do!!! 

malapropism (MAL-a-prop-ism) or acyrologia(a-keer-o-LO-gia), the fortunate mix-up.

The malapropism is an eponym named for the addlebrained literary character, Mrs. Malaprop.  But credit the Greeks for coining the figure two and a half millennia before.  The acyrologia (“unauthorized speech”) swaps a word with a like-sounding but fortuitously wrong substitute.

The ideal screwup achieves a higher addled wisdom. Props to you, Ms. M! But it’lll take you many years to achieve the addled wisdom-ness of Yogi Berra. 

Say Tomahto and I'll Kill You

If someone pronounces Iraq “eye-rack,” he’s probably not a liberal. If he refers to the “Democrat Party,” he’s certainly not a liberal. If he uses the word “community” unironically? Bingo, a liberal. So what do you call this sort of tribal password? 

shibboleth (SHIB-oh-lith), the password. From the Hebrew, meaning “grain stalk.” 

The word comes from the Hebrew Bible—Judges 12:5-6—in a scene that describes the aftermath of a battle between two tribes. The tribe from Gilead beat the one from Ephraim, then blocked the retreating survivors from crossing the Jordan back to their homeland. Anyone claiming to be a Gileadite was given a test: pronounce the word “shibboleth.” If he said “sibboleth,” that proved he was an  Ephraimite, and he was killed on the spot.

According to the scripture, 42,000 Ephraimites were slaughtered over a mispronunciation. Sounds like something Figaro’s terrifying fourth-grade grammar teacher would write.

In fact, grammar itself counts as a kind of systematic shibboleth. There’s no such thing as “correct” grammar. There’s just upper-class grammar and everything else.

And just by saying that, Figaro has proved himself a grass-combing Ephraimite. He’s preparing himself for the slaughter.

The Poet Obama

In a major speech yesterday, Barack Obama strung together a set of figurative pearls in a speech that previews the coming presidential campaign. The idea behind the message—that inequality hurts the economy—would be backed by most economists. And Figaro loves the figures that decorate that message. The whole passage sounds concise, thoughtful, and poetic. But it won’t work. 

Why? Because of the poetry. It’s Obama’s chief rhetorical problem. And that problem lies behind the Democrats’ messaging woes.

This isn’t about class warfare.
This is about the nation’s welfare.

Speech by Obama on the economy, in Osawatomie, Kansas

antithesis (an-TIH-the-sis), the not-that-but-this figure. From the Greek, meaning “opposing ideas.” Also…

symploce (SIM-plo-see), the beginning-and-end word repeater. From the Greek, meaning “braid together.” Also…

paronomasia (pa-ra-no-MAY-sia), the near-pun. From the Greek, meaning “rename alongside.”

Political speeches exist to contrast ideas, which is why you’ll see a lot of antitheses in presidential campaigns. They’re wrong, we’re right. My ideas work, theirs suck.  A great way to spice up this contrast is with balanced sentences that weigh the ideas side by side. If those sentences sound highly similar, the weighing seems more pronounced. This is not warfare, it’s about welfare.  And the paranomasia punctuates that constrast even more. Warfare, not welfare. Pretty snappy, right?

But this is where the Democrats, and Obama in particular, are too clever by half. They fall in love with their own poetry. If the speechwriters had allowed a Republican into the room, they would have realized that “welfare” isn’t a word beloved of many Americans. In fact, the term implies that Obama’s message isn’t about the economy at all; it’s about the transfer of wealth.

The basic message is sound, and Obama will be right to stick to it: when the fairness gap gets too wide, the whole economy risks falling into it. But instead of figures, the Democrats need to learn to use images. Tropes. Like the metaphor Figaro just used.

If the Democrats can stop being poets and start painting pictures, they’ll win. If not, they’ll lose. It’s that critical.

And Get Off That Lawn I Paid For

Newt Gingrich is making a play for the Grumpy Old Man vote. He uses a crowd-pleasing word repeater, the epistrophe, to make fun of those darn longhairs who keep squatting on—um, occupying—Wall Sreet. They “start with the premise that we all owe them everything,” Gingrich told a crowd in Iowa. Then he put the epistrophic hammer down.

They take over a public park they didn’t pay for, to go nearby to use bathrooms they didn’t pay for, to beg for food from places they they don’t want to pay for.

Newt Gingrich

epistrophe (ee-PIS-tro-fee), the last-word repeater. From the Greek, meaning “turning back upon.”

The epistrophe is a great way to get an audience to complete your sentences for you, making them feel like true particpants in your witty monologue. “Didn’t pay for” makes an excellent ending phrase of its own, because it points to all those slacker Americans—almost 50 percent—who don’t pay income taxes. Of course, they pay sales taxes, fees, and other government revenue streams, but those don’t count. Um, we’re not sure why.

Not only do those occupiers fail to pay income tax, they apparently don’t bathe with the frequency that Gingrich would prefer. His message: “Take a bath” and “get a job.”

Figaro, would grew up during the sixties, finds Gingrich very comforting. Gingrich reminds Figaro of his parents.