Rhetorical Advances

Is it ethical to teach my nephew to manipulate his dad?

Who cares about the ethics. It sure is fun.

I recently finished “Thank You for Arguing: What Aristotle, Lincoln, and Homer Simpson Can Teach Us About the Art of Persuasion” by Jay Heinrichs. The book examines the lost art of rhetoric—the strategic use of language to inform, persuade, and motivate an audience. The book is chock-full of helpful tips and tricks to strengthen an argument, whatever it may be, using teachings and examples from ancient orators to modern politicians. Aristotle, Cicero, Abe Lincoln, and even Donald Trump all use the power of language, however unintentionally, to move millions and shape the course of history.

Since finishing the audiobook, I have been eager to try my hand using what I learned. For example, in a recent series of narrations for my community choir’s concert “America at 250,” I employed some of the techniques to paint a picture of the spirit of America and hopefully inspire the listeners to a higher standard of citizenry. While it wasn’t perfect, I felt it was a personal triumph and smashing success. More importantly, I enjoyed the process of crafting and delivering.

Children possess a sweet innocence that make them deceptive masters of persuasion, even if they don’t understand the difference between a syllogism, enthymeme, or chiasmus. My nephew did an excellent rhetorical job recently at convincing me to drive him and 3 of his compatriots to a local park.

All he had to do was call me “the fun uncle.”

Spending time with him has also given me the rare opportunity to teach him a few things, including some newfound tricks of persuasion. I decided to conduct test on his unsuspecting father. While fierce loyalty, hard-workingness, and an unwavering sense of devotion are all merit badges on my brother’s sash, brashness, impatience, and a short fuse are also his. As a result, when it comes to asking his dad for something, my nephew rightfully approaches with trepidation. “No” is a pretty common response—even before the question has been fully asked.

So, when my nine year old nephew wanted to sleep over at his friends’, it was the perfect opportunity to teach him some lessons in the art of persuasion.

First, we assessed the situation. The timing of a request is crucial to the outcome. The Greeks have a word for “the right moment”: kairos. Gibson, my older brother, was busy working in the garden, one of his happy places, so the timing was right as far as his mood was concerned.

Next, we worked on the presentation of the request. If my nephew were to jump right in with, “Can I stay the night at my friends?” it was, at best a 50/50 shot. Actually, having witnessed my brother’s explosion of rage earlier in the day over a misplaced bicycle, I told my nephew I thought his chances of success from a direct request was about 40/60. I also showed my nephew that if he went straight for the kill and the answer was no, there was no chance at redemption.

We needed to lull the target into a more agreeable state. The first step is to find something to compliment; a low hanging fruit that could shift my brother into a positive mood. We decided to compliment the flowers.

After setting the mood with a genuine compliment, the next step was to infuse behavioral psychology in with the rhetorical cocktail. I went with a tried-and-true tactic of priming: get the audience, in this case an unsuspecting amateur gardener, to say “yes” a few times before the real request.

We came up with some easy “yes” questions, careful to find the balance between genuineness and annoyance. We didn’t want to pester, which is a hair-thin line with my brother, and we certainly didn’t want to give away our ulterior motive. We went with asking about the broccoli and some other vegetables that were proudly harvested that day.

Finally, once we had invited in a pleasant mood, established a pattern of “yes” answers, then and only then would we lay on the real request: “Can I stay the night at my friends?” It wasn’t a fool-proof plan, but it was a lot more rhetorically sound than poking the bear.

As my nephew approached his dad nervously, his friends and I could only watch, unable to hear what was being said. We stood at the corner of the porch, watching my nephew approach and recede several times. Not a good sign, I thought. Pretending to leaving and coming back is pretty annoying.

After three or four approaches, he finally made his way back over to a 9-year old, 10-year old, and 30-year old all waiting with bated breath. I’ll admit, I was hopeful that the plan had worked. While I don’t condone intentional manipulation, almost everything in life is an act in persuasion. And knowing how to help your cause and better your chances at success is a valuable skill for anyone to learn, even for a fourth-grader. I was also selfishly eager to see if what I’d learned actually worked in practice.

“Well?” we asked in a whisper, careful not to give away that we’d been plotting an emotional coup. A double thumbs up and a grin let us know that success had been our fortune, and we all enjoyed a brief moment of hushed celebration. A round of high fives and fist bumps solidified the moment of sweet victory on my nephew’s face. The three of them went for a victory lap on the trampoline, and I walked in the house in quiet triumph at my masterful teaching.

At dinner, before he left to go to his friends, I asked my nephew to tell me the story—I wanted to know exactly what happened to see if the plan worked as flawlessly as I’d thought.

“Well I kinda forgot what we talked about. So I just asked him and he said ‘yes.’ Then I remembered the stuff about the flowers.”

Until next time, live uninterrupted.

~Coleman