It's OK. We're Already Killing Gays.

From “Ask Figaro”:

Dear Figaro,

On his blog “wakingupnow” Rob Tish has coined the term “argument-ex-contradictio”, describing the behaviour of making several mutually contradictory statements that are worded to sound superficially as if they support each other. He gives a good example in this blog-post:http://wakingupnow.com/blog/the-argument-ex-contradictio. They efficiency of the method would come from the fact that the opponents cannot really mount a counter-argument, since the original argument has no clear line to attack… each counter-argument would somehow seem to be already refudiated by one of the contradictory factoids presented in the original “argument”.

I knew at once the sort of rhetoric he means, and I was wondering is there is already some term in use to describe this infuriating bahviour.

Martin

Dear Martin,

Rob’s Latin leaves something to be desired, and I’m not sure that a string of self-contradictory ill-logic deserves any label but “mess.” To rebut it, there certainly is a clear line of attack; just about any line, in fact. The commentator Rob refers to says this, for instance: “Uganda’s anti-gay bill formally extends the death penalty to homosexuals who commit pre-existing capital crimes.” A simple rebuttal would ask, “How can the death penalty be ‘extended’ to a group already covered by it?” 

But the commentator’s technique, if there is any, lies not in any abuse of logic but in his refusal to engage at all. Rob’s attempts to learn more about the issue led to his being de-friended on the commentator’s Facebook page. And here’s the rub: most political argument isn’t about logic at all. It’s about tribes. Get your own tribe more riled up than the enemy’s tribe, and you’ll win the battle. 

The problem, in short, isn’t logic at all. It’s our increasingly tribal culture.

Fig.

Figuring Boris and Natasha

 “Ask Figaro” has been heating up lately, with rhetorical analyses of hot Russian spies, bashed mailboxes, biblical mysteries, gushing oil, and gushing, oily politicians.  Explore it all here or ask a question of your own in the form at the bottom.

Plus, the Maggots Skipped the Baggage Fee

I see a maggot looking back at me and I’m thinking, “These are anaerobic, flesh-eating larvae that the flight attendants don’t have to sit with.”

Donna Adamo, passenger on a maggot-infested US Airways flight

epiphoneme (eh-PIH-fo-neem), the memorable summary. From the Greek epiphonema, meaning “proclaim upon.”

Continuing with epiphonemes: we’re seeing them everywhere. A great epiphoneme says, “It all boils down to this.” In this case, it boils down to the rotten meat a dopey passenger stored in an overhead bin. You can’t blame the airline (full disclosure: Figaro consults for Southwest Airlines), but poor US Airways had to put up with a raft of “mother@%#*ing maggots on a mother@%#*ing plane” jokes.

The best epiphoneme goes right to the edge of hyperbole, and possibly an eensy bit beyond. Technically, maggots do not have the optic equipment to stare at people, and they would not eat the flesh of passengers unless the plane were held on the tarmac long enough for corpses in coach to rot. Adamo nonetheless makes a very strong proclamation: maggots are not one of the finer airline amenities.

Incentivized Yet?

Incentives…
determine outcomes.

Former New York Governor Eliot Spitzer, in Slate

epiphoneme (eh-PIH-fo-neem), the memorable summary. From the Greek epiphonema, meaning “proclaim upon.”

Want to predict how a business or institution will behave? Follow the incentives. Former New York Governor Eliot Spitzer claims that incentives caused the BP oil spill and the financial meltdown; in each case, government assumed the risks while removing regulatory oversight and limiting legal liability. So, following the path of least resistance to profit, the guilty companies took chances that would have seemed insane 20 years ago.

This is complicated stuff, and it demands a simple summary. Spitzer provides one—sort of—in the form of an epiphoneme, a snappy sum-up that can stand on its own. Charles Darwin provided one of the greatest epiphonemes of all time here. Alas, Spitzer proved he is no Darwin by writing, “Incentives matter. In fact, they determine outcomes.”

Figaro stepped in where Slate’s editors feared to tread. If they had pushed the man just a little, Slate might even have produced an epiphoneme they could call Spitzer’s Law: Incentives determine behavior.

But then, some people may have wondered just what incentivized Spitzer to pay $15,000 for certain, um, outcomes.

Small People Are Tropical

Figaro has been getting quite a bit of mail noting that the BP chairman’s “small people” gaffe constitutes a trope, not just a figure of speech. So what kind of trope is it, they ask?

“Small people” is a metonymy, a trope that takes a part or characteristic of something and uses it to define the whole. Small people’s position in society is itty-bitty, a characteristic that’s used to define the people themselves.

“The little guy,” on the other hand, is a synecdoche—one person used to describe a type or group of people. Of course, the “little” part of the guy is a metonymy as well…

Whew. It’s getting tropical around here. In general, if you something isn’t literally true—the “small people” in America seem to get larger every day—then it’s probably either a trope or a lie.  And what are the other tropes? You’ve certainly heard of ‘em:  metaphor and irony.

Do Small People Have a Figure?

A Figarist posted the inevitable question on Ask Figaro: does the BP chairman’s gaffe have a rhetorical name? Why, yes, it does, and Figaro is big enough to tell you what it is.

Dear Figaro,

Aside from being appallingly classist and culturally inept, is BP’s chairman remark on how much BP loves the “small people” of the Gulf Coast a figure of speech?

Kaine

Dear Kaine,

Chairman Carl-Henric Svanberg, a Swede, clearly meant “the little guy” when he said “the small people.” The mistake is a soraismus (so-ray-IS-mus), a clumsy mix of languages. That’s Greek for “loading up a pile of caca.”

The incident reminds us of the time many years ago when famous Italian journalist Oriana Fallaci interviewed  Henry Kissinger for an Italian magazine. Trying to impress the beautiful reporter, the plump, German-born Secretary of State described himself as a lone cowboy “leading the caravan” and entering the “village” alone. The American press gave Kissinger a lot of well-deserved grief for that interview. But in fairness to Kissinger, he probably actually said “wagon train” to Fallaci (carrozza in Italian) as well as “town” (villago).

Svanberg’s gaffe simply eliminated the incompetent middle man.

Is it unfair to attack Svanberg for his soraismus? Maybe. But the quote does amply illustrate BP’s reckless arrogance. Besides, a corporate chairman should be sophisticated enough to earn his giant’s salary by vetting his rhetoric. Figaro is available to help for a big person’s fee.  Meanwhile, we say, ridicule away.