Mark Eckel (M.A., Ph.D.) is President of The Comenius Institute, Senior Associate Faculty in English at IUPUI, and visiting professor at LBC | Capital Seminary, Lancaster, PA, teaching in their PhD program. Spanning four decades, Dr. Eckel has served the education community as a high school teacher, college professor, grad school lecturer, curriculum writer, and international speaker. He has published numerous books, articles, and reviews. In this essay, he looks at Aristotle’s three categories ethos, logos, and pathos and how they relate to each other and to the learning process of education. When you’ve finished reading the essay, please feel free to “like” it, comment on it, and share it with others.
Aristotle and Education
Homeschooling, unschooling, classical, Christian, public, madrassa, yeshiva, and variants of a multiplicity of schooling abound today in American education. Each educational institution, however, answers the same question, no matter its overall mission: “When students leave our school, what outcomes do we expect?” Yes, core philosophical, theological directives—the “Why?” of education—drive every institution. But all types of schools begin, consciously or unconsciously, with the what question. “What exactly is education?” The reason for any type of education conforms to essential, ubiquitous human connections. What authorities are to be trusted? What ordered thinking best explains a subject? What persuasive techniques will move learners to action? And from ancient to modern times, Aristotle’s educational components of ethos, logos, and pathos answer the universal questions for social settings in every K-12 through graduate program.
When I teach the college course Argumentative Writing, I have students read Aristotle. The ancient philosopher outlines three key ingredients of any discussion. Ethos is about the credibility or authority of the speaker. Pathos, in the ancient sense, was about the emotion stirred in an audience by the speaker, based on the argument made. Logos maintains that arguments should be based on logic, an ordered approach to debate. If we jettison any of these components, or highlight one over the others, we cripple our discourse.
In Rhetoric Aristotle outlines these “three modes of persuasion” (Book I, Chap 2). Ethos depends “on the personal character of the speaker” which is “the most effective means of persuasion.” Aristotle believes both in the “personal goodness” of the person and the integrity of that person’s content. “Ethics” is the substance of Aristotle’s concern, judging the speech by whether or not “it will do good” (I, 3). But what standard will underscore an author’s reliability, much less their expert influence? Aristotle calls for what is “just” or “honorable” (I, 3), giving a long list of practical insights from various “virtues,” but ultimately depends on the “man of a given disposition” (I, 6). Obviously, a human-centered ethic leaves open the question of “Who decides?”, much less the transitory, temporal—to say nothing of the finite and fallen—nature of the ethical source.
Early in the semester during my Reading, Writing & Inquiry course we address ethics. I create a 5-step pyramid and begin by discussing what everyone desires: truth. I place that word in the middle of the five levels reiterating that truth suggests reliability and credibility, asking, “Who do I trust?” The word above truth is authority, asking the question, “Who says?!” Above authority I place the word ethics – Aristotle’s concern – where we address definitions for “right and wrong” and “good and bad,” as well as the question, “By what standard will we judge these?” Underlying truth is timelessness and at the bottom, transcendence. Standards for ethics should be consistent over time and ultimately come from a place outside ourselves. Transcendent beginnings force students to consider assumptions that question and form the basis for ethos: do our ethics come from humans or God?
A high achieving student once wrote a paper for me on climate change, arguing not only for its veracity but also that, in light of it, we need to be responsible in our care of the Earth. Her assumption base identified her belief in naturalistic evolution. In my comments I asked her a series of questions, wondering how her beliefs could support “goodness,” since science by itself cannot answer “should” questions, when it is perceived as being directed by purely naturalistic evolution with its “only the strong survive” ethic. The personal character of the student is beyond question, but the reliability of her scientific ethics must be questioned. To Aristotle’s point, the student was right to praise “that which is good” but the source of an ethical code depends entirely on “that which most people seek after” (I, 6). I absolutely agreed with the student about her ethical desire, still questioning her ethics source.
As was true with the climate change paper, it is the ethos that often stirs student pathos. Young minds have a passionate desire to communicate, that which is “stirring the emotions” (I, 2) as Aristotle contends. As a professor I have seen again and again the philosopher’s three-fold basis for such pathos. Aristotle, writing about the emotion of resentment, could be writing about any emotional response, when he says, a person’s passion is directed by (1) frame of mind, (2) audience, and (3) the reason for the fervor (II, 2).
Students come to realize that persuasion includes attraction, the ability to connect with what Aristotle called a reader’s “frame of mind” (II, 1). Convincing people of a viewpoint necessitates an understanding of the audience and the grounds on which people might agree with the argument. One of the best introductions to a paper I ever received – I use the opening paragraph as a classroom example to this day – was about sex trafficking. In graphic detail, the young woman placed the reader in the character of a person who had been abducted. Her descriptions of enslavement and subjugation are so powerful that, after reading the excerpt, I have had a number of young men summon their inner Liam Neeson (the actor who plays the avenger for a similar scenario in the movie Taken) and want to go out immediately and rescue young women from the horror of abduction. Likewise, Aristotle understood the power of pathos using anger as his first example (II, 2).
And that angry frame of mind resides in the passion of audience members. I begin my first session in the course Reading, Writing & Inquiry by showing a number of 30-60 second advertisements. I ask students “How do ads create a bridge between the product and the audience?” An internet provider commercial shows an incompetent doctor dialoguing with a patient ahead of surgery, the attending nurse adding “He’s OK.” The soon-to-be surgery by an average surgeon ends with the internet carrier proclaiming, “Just OK is not OK.” The comedic implication suggests one’s internet provider is just as important as which surgeon performs their work. An insurance company creates a 60-second spot based on a Main Street hardware store. The ad tracks the endearing relationship of father with daughter over the years as they work together. Midway through the storyline, a fire damages the retailer. After remodeling, dad hands the keys to his daughter whereupon we see the father, daughter, and grandson working together in the business. The nostalgic tagline for the commercial? Legacy. One Christmas ad features a dad, a daughter, and a snow globe – substitute for the mom who is missed and mourned by the child. The wistful, heartbreaking connection between the physical reminder of mom and the way the online retailer can rectify the situation over the holiday taps the tenderness of loss. In each commercial, students note the “bridge” being used to create humor, irony, sentimentality, or the evocative nature of our humanness. In the very first class session, students learn they must create pathos between what they want to say and an audience to whom the message is delivered.
But if the pathos is not linked with logos any communication can become nothing more than a screed to some, an echo-chamber for others. For Aristotle, our speech must “have proved a truth” (I, 2). The importance of definitions is imperative in any kind of research which may lead to truth. In one Argumentative Writing assignment students are asked to develop a glossary of terms, words like “proof,” “facts,” “claim,” “criteria,” and “evidence.” They gather definitions from academically reputable sources, such as peer-reviewed journal articles. Rationale for the assignment includes ordered thinking which gives a basis for proof. Further, the students discover that definitions may differ. These definitional differences then initiate an understanding of worldviews, exposing confirmation biases. Biases may inform our thinking, but there is no logos without rhetorical writing.
One student whose work in my class won English awards, sent me a personal email a year after taking my class. Her major focuses on health. In a science class she and her fellow students were to construct and then report on an experiment. She helped her team complete the assignment because she is an accomplished writer. The other groups in that class were amazed at the report constructed by her and her team. The other students were brilliant STEM majors but could not communicate their research. The young woman ended her missive to me by saying, “You always told us as we took your class in the science building that the scientists all around us would need our help to explain their work. I am living proof, that communication must support content.”
Even the way content is delivered matters toward logos. In each session of my class Reading, Writing & Inquiry, I give a one-page outline to each student. The framework gives organizational direction to the class. Students know the one idea about which we will focus our attention and the methods we will use to communicate that one idea. As a professor, I believe that even the structure of a class provides an order for the class. The whole class session is based on a logical flow of thought, continuously connecting the ordered approach of one idea to its logos understanding. My method unconsciously channels Aristotelian logic. The whole world – including the educational worlds of sciences and humanities – depends on the coherent organizational arrangement of everything in creation.
How we communicate is just as important as what we communicate. A presenter can have the most important message, but if that message is not joined with a compelling delivery, the idea will not be heard. The best education is the two-lane highway of content parallel with communication. A stand-up comedian with no good material gets booed off the stage. A brilliant teacher will leave her classroom scrolling on their phones if her content is poorly communicated. How we say what we say is essential.
Aristotle’s three-pronged approach to inquiry is one of the reasons I love teaching on the public campus. Thinking with others with different beliefs can both deepen resolve as well as promote the ability to persuade. From interacting with people who have varying points of view, I, as a teacher, grow in my understanding of my own viewpoint, as well as the viewpoints of others. None of us is necessarily giving up our beliefs; but because we are face-to-face, our pathos is moderated by our logos. We hear each other’s ethos. Friendships are born. Camaraderie is built; even between people who disagree with each other's point of view. Persuasion is based not on the volume of a speaker’s voice but on the value of a speaker’s argument.
Aristotle was no Christian theologian. He taught that matter is eternal, there is no such thing as God’s Providence, and that philosophy stood ahead of all disciplines, including theology. But just as Paul quoted pagan poets when the writing agreed with God’s truth so we learn from those with whom we may have disagreements. I believe Aristotle used communication truths embedded in God’s creation. As a professor, I am indebted to his simple, direct argument, linking ethos with pathos and logos.
Schools everywhere of all persuasions depend on Aristotle’s essential ideals, answering “What is education?” Some might argue that students should be left to themselves, to discover what is true for them. Others would take the opposite approach, calling for dictation, an adherence to prescribed principles and processes. A few might try to walk the line in between, giving credence to each extreme without falling prey to the problems either might engender. But every type of educational instruction assumes a “good” or a “right” way, even if the proponents might disagree on the definition of those words. A commitment to the tools of learning, giving students instruments of lifelong learning, is a universal human construct. Student outcomes of every educational institution wish their graduates to address core concerns of trusted authorities, reasonable explanations, and influential interactions. So, Aristotle’s triad of ethos, logos, and pathos is woven through all human educational systems.