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Preparing to write a speech, quick links, understanding the speech genre.

As you begin writing your speech, you must understand the speech genre , conduct research , and develop an outline .

Understanding the type of speech you’re giving is the first step in the speech writing process.

If you already know the genre of your speech, then feel free to move on towards the next step. If not, start with the prompt. The prompt often identifies the genre of speech. Does your prompt give the speech genre?

If not, here are a few principles to help you figure out the speech genre:

• Highlight keywords. Words such as analyze , explain , and argue tell you something about the nature of the speech. Look up the keywords in a dictionary to be precise.
• Look for goals laid out in the prompt. Does the prompt tell you to “ Update the classroom on the political events in Syria,” “ Report your research on the Epstein–Barr virus,”or “ Explain how to do something you do well”? These prompts exemplify informative goals. “ Persuade the audience of what you think is the best way to succeed on a mission trip” is explicitly a prompt for a persuasive/argumentative speech.
• If you’re completely lost, ask your professor or visit the Rhetoric Center—and bring your prompt!

The two most common types of speeches are informative and argumentative.

For further information on the fundamentals of these different types of speeches, we recommend Public Speaking - Oakland Campus: Types of Speeches by University Library System, University of Pittsburgh. Click on either “Informative” or “Argumentative.”

However, because more speaking genres exist (stories, tributes, eulogies, etc.) it’s imperative to highlight keywords , look for goals in the prompt , and seek help when needed .

After understanding the assignment you’ll know better what you need to research. At this stage it’s important to remember principles and goals of information literacy. Ensuring credibility of the resources used is a primary goal of information literacy.

It’s important that when researching, you consider the credibility of the resources you’re using. Unreliable sources will send your audience a message that you are unreliable. This Tedx Talk breaks down how to identify a fake news article; the principles can be applied to any research.

Ask yourself the following questions:

• Who is this publication and are they credible?
• Who is the author? Do they have accessible information about them and are they a credible source?
• With both of these in mind, is this article/journal/website credible? If you have any doubt, then err on the safe side.

In addition, you’ll need to find enough sources with enough varying perspectives that you can build your own expertise and credibility.

The resources available on Hekman Library will prove useful in the research process. In particular, we recommend you use the following links on Hekman’s page :

• “How to ‘Search Start’”
• “Finding Databases”
• “Accessing Articles”
• “Research Help”

Additional Resources Related to Research

• Yale College Writing Center : Eight Strategies for Using Sources.
• Colorado State University, WAC Clearinghouse : Evaluating Sources.
• Calvin University—What Not To Do : a document about what not to do while researching.
• Purdue University Online Writing Lab (OWL) : Quoting, Paraphrasing, and Summarizing.

For most speech classes, the outline is the closest thing to a full script you will have. Some speeches are read from a printed text; some are memorized. But most academic speeches are extemporaneous: the speaker knows the speech well enough to deliver it without reading it, and an outline makes this possible.

(Please note: we’re talking about the final structure of the full-bodied speech, not the keyword notecards you deliver the speech from.)

The outline is a version of the complete speech and is your most important planning document. It is your draft of the full speech, just like a full draft of a paper. For papers an outline simply guides the writer in the writing process. For speeches the outline is reasonably identical with the speech (with slight wording changes).

A speech outline includes the general wording of every sentence, including transitions, and is written in complete sentences (the exact format may different from one teacher to another). If you’re turning the speech in to an instructor, the instructor will usually ask you to include a “specific purpose” and “thesis” before the introduction.

You don’t use the speech outline during the speech. For information regarding the version of the outline used during the speech itself, please see the notecard section on Delivery.

This is an informative speech on the differences between Roman Catholicism and Eastern Orthodoxy. This outline isn’t perfect: it should include more transition sentences, and the introduction and conclusion are too short. But overall, it displays the content and structure.

This next outline , on the medicinal and culinary properties of dandelions, was put together by the Calvin CAS department as an example outline. Notice how this outline identifies the transition sentences and provides further information for the supporting points.

Your outline doesn’t have to look exactly like either of these examples as long as it accomplishes the main function of an outline: to set out a full written version of your speech.

8 Types of Speeches to Captivate Any Audience

• The Speaker Lab
• May 8, 2024

Table of Contents

Words have power. In a speech, words can shift mountains, sway opinions, and light the fire for change. For anyone stepping up to the mic, knowing what kind of speech to deliver makes all the difference in winning over listeners. From informative talks to persuasive pitches, each type of speech serves a unique purpose and requires a specific approach. In this post, we’ll explore the 8 essential types of speeches you need to know to become a master communicator:

• Informative speeches
• Persuasive speeches
• Demonstration speeches
• Entertaining speeches
• Special occasion speeches
• Impromptu speeches
• Debate speeches
• Acceptance speeches

Let’s get started!

Types of Speeches to Master for Success

Every single day people across the world stand up in front of some kind of audience and speak. While the core purpose of any speech is to deliver a message to an audience, the type of message and manner in which it’s delivered helps us distinguish a given speech from others. As a result, we can categorize speeches based on four main concepts: entertaining, informing, demonstrating and persuading. Let’s take a look at each.

Informative Speech

In an informative speech , the presenter will share information about a particular person, place, object, process, concept, or issue by defining, describing, or explaining. The primary purpose of informative presentations is to share one’s knowledge of a subject with an audience. Reasons for making an informative speech vary widely.

For example, you might be asked to report to a group of managers how your latest project is coming along. Similarly, a local community group might wish to hear about your volunteer activities in New Orleans during spring break, or your classmates may want you to share your expertise on Mediterranean cooking.

Persuasive Speech

A persuasive speech proposes to change a person’s beliefs or actions on a particular issue. The presenter takes a side and gives his/her opinion with factual evidence to support their viewpoint. The topics tend to be debatable and the speech itself should have a convincing tone.

Demonstrative Speech

As the name suggests, a demonstrative speech is the type of speech you want to give to demonstrate how something works or how to do a certain thing. A demonstrative speech utilizes the use of visual aids and/or physical demonstration along with the information provided. Some might argue that demonstrative speeches are a subclass of informative speeches, but they’re different enough to be considered two distinct types. Think of it as the difference between explaining the history and tradition of gumbo as opposed to actually teaching a crowd how to make gumbo.

Entertaining Speech

The core purpose of an entertaining speech is to amuse the audience, and obviously, entertain them. They’re usually less formal in nature to help communicate emotions rather than to simply deliver facts. Some examples include speeches given by maids of honor or best men at weddings, acceptance speeches at the Oscars, or even the one given by a school’s principal before or after a talent show.

Special Occasion Speech

Beyond the four main types of public speeches we mentioned, there are a few other different types of speeches worth exploring, namely, special occasion speeches. Often shorter than other types of speeches, special occasion speeches focus on the occasion at hand, whether it’s a wedding , funeral , awards ceremony , or other special event. The goal is to connect with the audience on an emotional level and deliver a heartfelt message that resonates with the occasion. Personal stories, anecdotes, and expressions of gratitude are common elements in special occasion speeches.

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How to Deliver an Engaging Informative Speech

In an informative speech, the presenter will share information about a particular person, place, object, process, concept, or issue by defining, describing, or explaining. An informative speech’s purpose is to simplify complex theories into simpler, easier-to-digest and less ambiguous ideas. In other words, the goal of this type of speech is to convey information accurately.

Choose a Specific Topic

The first step in delivering an engaging informative speech is to choose a specific topic. Trying to cover too much ground in a single speech can be overwhelming for both the speaker and the audience. By narrowing your focus to a specific aspect of a larger topic, you can provide more in-depth information and keep your audience engaged. For example, instead of trying to explain the entire history of the internet, you could focus on the development of social media platforms.

Simplify Complex Concepts

One of the main goals of an informative speech is to simplify complex theories and concepts into more easily understandable ideas. This requires breaking down information into smaller, more digestible chunks. Use analogies, examples, and visual aids to help illustrate your points and make the information more relatable to your audience. Remember, your goal is to provide a general understanding of the topic, not to overwhelm your listeners with technical jargon or minute details.

Engage Your Audience

Keeping your audience engaged is crucial for the success of your informative speech. One way to do this is by using storytelling techniques to make the information more interesting and memorable. You can also ask rhetorical questions, encourage audience participation, and use humor when appropriate. By making your speech interactive and dynamic, you’ll be more likely to hold your audience’s attention and effectively communicate your message.

Use Visual Aids

Visual aids can be a powerful tool in an informative speech. They help to reinforce your message, clarify complex ideas, and make your presentation more engaging. Some effective visual aids include charts, graphs, images, videos, and physical objects. Just be sure not to rely too heavily on visuals at the expense of your content.

Practice and Refine

As with any type of public speaking, practice is essential for delivering a successful informative speech. Rehearse your presentation multiple times, paying attention to your pacing, tone, and body language. Consider practicing in front of a mirror, recording yourself, or presenting to a small group of friends or colleagues for feedback. Use their input to refine your speech and make improvements before the big day.

Mastering the Art of Persuasive Speaking

Speeches can be delivered to serve various purposes. A persuasive speech proposes to change a person’s beliefs or actions on a particular issue. Accordingly, the presenter takes a side and gives his/her opinion, supporting their argument with factual evidence.

Know Your Audience

The first step in crafting a persuasive speech is to know your audience. Understanding their beliefs, values, and concerns will help you tailor your message to resonate with them. In particular, consider factors such as age, gender, cultural background, and education level when analyzing your audience. This information will guide you in choosing the most effective arguments and examples to support your position.

Use Persuasive Language

The language you use in your persuasive speech can have a significant impact on how your audience receives your message. Use powerful, emotive words that evoke a strong response from your listeners.

Rhetorical devices such as repetition, metaphors, and rhetorical questions can also be effective in persuading your audience. However, be careful not to overuse techniques like pathos , as they can come across as manipulative or insincere if employed too frequently.

Provide Strong Evidence

To convince your audience to adopt your point of view, you need to provide strong evidence to support your claims. Use facts, statistics, expert opinions, and real-life examples to bolster your arguments. In addition, be sure to cite credible sources and present the information in a clear, logical manner. Finally, anticipate potential counterarguments and address them proactively to strengthen your position.

Inspire Positive Change

The goal of this type of speech is not only to change minds but also to inspire positive action. Conclude your persuasive speech with a clear call-to-action, urging your audience to take specific steps towards implementing the change you advocate for. In addition, paint a vivid picture of the benefits that will result from adopting your position, and make it easy for your listeners to understand how they can contribute to the cause.

Address Counterarguments

No matter how compelling your arguments may be, there will always be those who disagree with your position. To deliver a truly persuasive speech, you must anticipate and address potential counterarguments. That means acknowledging the validity of opposing viewpoints and then providing evidence to refute them. By demonstrating that you have considered alternative perspectives, you’ll come across as more credible and trustworthy to your audience.

Demonstrative Speeches: A Step-by-Step Guide

If you’ve ever watched a cooking show or a DIY tutorial, you’ve seen a demonstrative speech in action. This type of speech is all about teaching your audience how to do something, step by step. The key to a successful demonstrative speech is to be organized and concise. You need to break down the process into clear, easy-to-follow steps that your audience can grasp and replicate themselves.

Choose a Relevant Topic

When selecting a topic for your demonstrative speech, choose something that’s relevant and useful to your audience. It can be about anything that requires a demonstration, such as cooking a recipe, performing a science experiment, using a software program, or even tying a tie.

Consider your audience’s interests and needs. What skills or knowledge would benefit them the most? Choosing a topic that resonates with your listeners will keep them engaged and motivated to learn.

Plan Your Demonstration

Once you have your topic, it’s time to plan your demonstration from start to finish. Break down the process into logical, sequential steps. Consider the supplies or equipment you’ll need and any potential challenges or safety concerns. Creating an outline can help you stay organized and ensure you don’t miss any crucial steps. Remember, your goal is to make the process as clear and straightforward as possible for your audience.

Prepare Your Materials

Gather all the necessary materials, props, or visual aids you’ll need for your demonstration. Visual aids like props, slides, or even live demonstrations are incredibly helpful in illustrating your points. They can help your audience better understand and remember the steps you’re teaching them. During your speech, make sure everything is in working order and easily accessible.

A great demonstrative speech is not only informative but also engaging. You need to ignite a sense of enthusiasm and curiosity in your audience. Encourage them to ask questions and participate in the demonstration if possible.

In addition, use clear, concise language and maintain eye contact with your listeners. Inject some personality and humor into your delivery to keep things interesting and relatable.

Allow Time for Questions

After your demonstration, allow time for your audience to ask questions or seek clarification. This interaction can help reinforce their understanding and show that you’re invested in their learning.

At the end of your presentation, encourage your listeners to try out the skill or technique themselves. Finally, provide any additional resources or tips that can help them succeed. Remember, your ultimate goal is to empower your audience with new knowledge and abilities.

The Power of Entertaining Speeches

Sometimes, the best way to captivate an audience is simply to entertain them. An entertaining speech can range from a humorous anecdote at a conference to a moving story at a fundraiser. If you want to nail this type of speech, you need to engage your listeners and leave them with a memorable message.

As with any speech, understanding your audience is crucial for an entertaining speech. What kind of humor or stories will they appreciate? What tone and style will resonate with them? Consider factors like age, background, and the event itself. A joke that lands well at a casual gathering might not be appropriate for a formal business meeting.

Use Humor Effectively

Humor is a powerful tool in entertaining speeches, but it must be used skillfully. A well-crafted joke can break the ice, lighten the mood, and make your message more memorable. However, humor can also backfire if it’s offensive, inappropriate, or poorly delivered. Make sure your jokes are tasteful, relevant, and well-rehearsed. If you’re not confident in your comedic abilities, it’s better to err on the side of caution.

Share Personal Anecdotes

Personal stories and anecdotes can be incredibly effective in entertaining speeches. They help humanize you as a speaker as well as create a connection with your audience. As such, choose stories that are relevant to your message and that highlight your unique experiences or perspectives. Use descriptive language and engaging delivery to draw your listeners into the narrative.

An entertaining speech is all about engagement. You want your audience to be actively involved and invested in your message. In order to achieve this, use techniques like rhetorical questions, audience participation, or even props to keep your listeners engaged. Additionally, make eye contact, vary your tone and pace, and use gestures to emphasize key points.

End on a High Note

The conclusion of your entertaining speech is just as important as the beginning. You want to leave your audience with a positive, memorable impression. To accomplish this, consider ending with a call to action, a thought-provoking question, or a powerful quote. Tie your conclusion back to your main message and leave your listeners with something to ponder or act upon.

Captivating Your Audience with Special Occasion Speeches

Not all speeches are about imparting knowledge or persuading opinions. Sometimes, a speech’s primary purpose is to entertain, inspire, or commemorate a special event. This type of speech is known as a special occasion speech . Whether it’s a wedding toast, a eulogy , or an acceptance speech, special occasion speeches require a unique approach. Here are some tips for crafting a memorable and impactful special occasion speech.

Understand the Occasion

Every special occasion has its own unique tone, purpose, and expectations. A wedding toast, for example, is typically light-hearted and celebratory, while a eulogy is more somber and reflective. Before you start writing your speech, make sure you understand the nature of the occasion and the role your speech will play. This context will guide your content, tone, and delivery.

Special occasion speeches are often delivered to a specific group of people who share a connection to the event or honoree. As such, it’s crucial to tailor your speech to resonate with this particular audience. Consider their relationship to the occasion, their background, and their expectations. What stories, anecdotes, or insights will they appreciate and relate to?

Use Appropriate Humor

Humor can be a powerful tool in special occasion speeches, especially in celebratory situations like weddings or retirements. A well-placed joke or funny story can help break the ice, engage the audience, and create a warm, positive atmosphere. However, it’s important to use humor appropriately and tastefully. Avoid jokes that might be offensive, insensitive, or ill-suited to the occasion. When in doubt, err on the side of caution.

Share Personal Stories

Special occasion speeches often revolve around honoring or commemorating a person, relationship, or milestone. By sharing personal stories or anecdotes, you can help bring your speech to life and create an emotional connection with your audience. Choose stories that highlight the qualities or experiences you want to celebrate. In addition, use vivid details and descriptive language to help your audience visualize and engage with your memories.

Express Gratitude

Many special occasion speeches, such as wedding toasts or acceptance speeches, involve expressing gratitude to those who have supported or contributed to the occasion. Accordingly, take time to acknowledge and thank the people who have made the event possible or played a significant role in your life. Be specific in your praise and sincere in your appreciation.

Impromptu Speaking: Tips for Thinking on Your Feet

Imagine you’re at a meeting and your boss suddenly calls on you to share your thoughts on the project. Or maybe you’re at a networking event and someone asks you to introduce yourself to the group. These scenarios can be nerve-wracking, especially if you’re not prepared. That’s where impromptu speaking comes in.

Impromptu speeches are delivered without prior preparation or planning. You’re given a topic or question on the spot and must quickly organize your thoughts to deliver a coherent speech. It’s an essential skill that tests your ability to think on your feet and communicate effectively in spontaneous situations.

Stay Calm and Focused

When faced with an impromptu speech , the first thing to do is stay calm. Take a deep breath and focus on the task at hand. Remember, the audience wants you to succeed, so don’t let nerves get the best of you.

Use a Simple Structure

To quickly organize your thoughts, use a simple structure like the P-R-E-P method: Point, Reason, Example, Point. Start with your main point, give a reason to support it, provide an example, and then reiterate your point. This structure will help you stay on track and deliver a clear message.

Draw from Personal Experiences

When you’re put on the spot, it’s easier to draw from personal experiences than to try to come up with something completely new. Share a relevant story or anecdote that supports your point. This will help you communicate emotions and connect with your audience.

Even though you’re speaking off the cuff, don’t forget to engage your audience. Make eye contact, use gestures, and vary your tone of voice. These techniques will help you capture and maintain your audience’s attention.

Practice Regularly

Like any skill, impromptu speaking improves with practice. Seek out opportunities to speak on the spot, whether it’s at work, in social situations, or even just with friends and family. The more you do it, the more comfortable and confident you’ll become.

Debate Speeches: Crafting Compelling Arguments

Debate speeches are a common type of speech, especially in school competitions. They involve presenting arguments and evidence to support a particular viewpoint on a topic. Whether you’re a high school or college student, mastering the art of debate can be a valuable skill.

Research Your Topic

The first step in crafting a compelling debate speech is to thoroughly research your topic. Gather facts, statistics, and expert opinions to support your argument. Make sure to use reputable sources and fact-check your information.

Develop Your Argument

Once you’ve done your research, it’s time to develop your argument. Choose your strongest points and organize them in a logical manner. Use persuasive language and rhetorical devices to make your case more compelling.

Anticipate Counterarguments

In a debate, you must be prepared to defend your position against counterarguments. Anticipate what your opponent might say and have rebuttals ready. This requires critical thinking and the ability to think on your feet.

The language you use in your debate speech can make a big difference. Use strong, active verbs and vivid imagery to paint a picture in your audience’s mind. Rhetorical questions, repetition, and tricolons (a series of three parallel elements) can also be effective persuasive devices.

Deliver with Confidence

Finally, deliver your debate speech with confidence. Speak clearly, maintain eye contact, and use gestures to emphasize your points. Remember, your delivery is just as important as the content of your speech.

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Delivering Powerful Acceptance Speeches

Whether you’re accepting an award at work or being honored at a community event, an acceptance speech is your chance to express gratitude and share your story. Here are some tips for delivering a powerful acceptance speech.

First, express gratitude. Thank the organization presenting the award, as well as any individuals who have supported you along the way. Be specific in your thanks and show genuine appreciation.

Share a Personal Story

An acceptance speech is a great opportunity to share a personal story that relates to the award or honor you’re receiving. This could be a story of overcoming obstacles, learning an important lesson, or achieving a goal. Your story will help the audience connect with you on a personal level.

Inspire Your Audience

Use your acceptance speech to inspire your audience. Share the lessons you’ve learned or the wisdom you’ve gained. Additionally, encourage others to pursue their dreams and never give up. Your words have the power to motivate and uplift those listening.

Keep It Concise

While it’s important to express gratitude and share your story, it’s also important to keep your acceptance speech concise. Aim for a speech that’s no more than 3-5 minutes long. Be mindful of the time and the event schedule.

Practice and Prepare

Finally, practice and prepare for your acceptance speech. Write out your key points and practice delivering your speech out loud. This will help you feel more confident and prepared when the big moment arrives.

When it comes to rocking public speaking, getting a grip on the different types of speeches is the first step. Then you know whether to share info, sway opinions, show how it’s done, or just give your audience a good time. As a result, you can really make your speeches hit home and stick with your audience.

Remember, no matter what type of speech you’re giving, the key to success lies in understanding your purpose, knowing your audience, and adapting your message accordingly. With practice and persistence, you’ll soon be able to captivate any crowd, no matter the occasion.

So go forth, speak with confidence, and let your voice be heard. The world is waiting for your message!

• Last Updated: May 7, 2024

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10 Types of Speeches Every Speechwriter Should Know

“Speech is power. Speech is to persuade, to convert, to compel.” — Ralph Waldo Emmerson

Many events in human history can be traced back to that one well-written , well-presented speech. Speeches hold the power to move nations or touch hearts as long as they’re well thought out. This is why mastering the skill of speech-giving and speech writing is something we should all aim to achieve.

But the word “speech” is often too broad and general. So let’s explore the different types of speeches and explain their general concepts.

Basic Types of Speeches

While the core purpose is to deliver a message to an audience, we can still categorize speeches based on 4 main concepts: entertaining, informing, demonstrating and persuading.

The boundaries between these types aren’t always obvious though, so the descriptions are as clear as possible in order to differentiate between them.

1.   Entertaining Speech

If you’ve been to a birthday party before, that awkward toast given by friends or family of the lucky birthday person is considered to fall under the definition of an entertaining speech .

The core purpose of an entertaining speech is to amuse the audience, and obviously, entertain them. They’re usually less formal in nature to help communicate emotions rather than to simply talk about a couple of facts.

Let’s face it, we want to be entertained after a long day. Who wouldn’t enjoy watching their favorite actors giving an acceptance speech , right?

You’ll find that entertaining speeches are the most common type of speeches out there. Some examples include speeches given by maids of honor or best men at weddings, acceptance speeches at the Oscars, or even the one given by a school’s principal before or after a talent show.

2.   Informative Speech

When you want to educate your audience about a certain topic, you’ll probably opt to create an informative speech . An informative speech’s purpose is to simplify complex theories into simpler, easier-to-digest and less ambiguous ideas; in other words, conveying information accurately.

The informative speech can be thought of as a polar opposite to persuasive speeches since they don’t relate to the audience’s emotions but depend more on facts, studies, and statistics.

Although you might find a bit of overlap between informative and demonstrative speeches, the two are fairly distinct from one another. Informative speeches don’t use the help of visual aids and demonstrations, unlike demonstrative speeches, which will be described next.

Some examples of informative speeches can be speeches given by staff members in meetings, a paleontology lecture, or just about anything from a teacher (except when they’re telling us stories about their pasts).

3.   Demonstrative Speech

ِFrom its name we can imagine that a demonstrative speech is the type of speech you want to give to demonstrate how something works or how to do a certain thing. A demonstrative speech utilizes the use of visual aids and/or physical demonstration along with the information provided.

Some might argue that demonstrative speeches are a subclass of informative speeches, but they’re different enough to be considered two distinct types. It’s like differentiating between “what is” and “how to”; informative speeches deal with the theoretical concept while demonstrative speeches look at the topic with a more practical lens.

Tutors explaining how to solve mathematical equations, chefs describing how to prepare a recipe, and the speeches given by developers demonstrating their products are all examples of demonstrative speeches.

4.   Persuasive Speech

Persuasive speeches are where all the magic happens. A speech is said to be persuasive if the speaker is trying to prove why his or her point of view is right, and by extension, persuade the audience to embrace that point of view.

Persuasive speeches differ from other basic types of speeches in the sense that they can either fail or succeed to achieve their purpose. You can craft the most carefully written speech and present it in the most graceful manner, yet the audience might not be convinced.

Persuasive speeches can either be logical by using the help of facts or evidence (like a lawyer’s argument in court), or can make use of emotional triggers to spark specific feelings in the audience.

A great example of persuasive speeches is TED / TEDx Talks because a big number of these talks deal with spreading awareness about various important topics. Another good example is a business pitch between a potential client, i.e. “Why we’re the best company to provide such and such.”

Other Types of Speeches

Other types of speeches are mixes or variations of the basic types discussed previously but deal with a smaller, more specific number of situations.

5.   Motivational Speech

A motivational speech is a special kind of persuasive speech, where the speaker encourages the audience to pursue their own well-being. By injecting confidence into the audience, the speaker is able to guide them toward achieving the goals they set together.

A motivational speech is more dependent on stirring emotions instead of persuasion with logic. For example, a sports team pep talk is considered to be a motivational speech where the coach motivates his players by creating a sense of unity between one another.

One of the most well-known motivational speeches (and of all speeches at that) is I Have a Dream by Martin Luther King Jr.

6.   Impromptu Speech

Suppose you’re at work, doing your job, minding your own business. Then your co-worker calls you to inform you that he’s sick, there is a big meeting coming up, and you have to take his place and give an update about that project you’ve been working on.

What an awkward situation, right?

Well, that’s what an impromptu speech is: A speech given on the spot without any prior planning or preparation. It being impromptu is more of a property than a type on its own since you can spontaneously give speeches of any type (not that it’s a good thing though; always try to be prepared for your speeches in order for them to be successful).

Mark Twain once said, “It usually takes me more than three weeks to prepare a good impromptu speech.”

7.   Oratorical Speech

This might sound a bit counterintuitive at first since the word oratorical literally means “relating to the act of speech-giving” but an oratorical speech is actually a very specific type of speech.

Oratorical speeches are usually quite long and formal in nature. Their purpose could be to celebrate a certain event like a graduation, to address serious issues and how to deal with them, or to mourn losses and give comfort like a eulogy at a funeral.

8.   Debate Speech

The debate speech has the general structure of a persuasive speech in the sense that you use the same mechanics and figures to support your claim, but it’s distinct from a persuasive speech in that its main purpose is to justify your stance toward something rather than convince the audience to share your views.

Debate speeches are mostly improvised since you can’t anticipate all the arguments the other debaters (or the audience) could throw at you. Debate speeches benefit the speaker since it develops their critical thinking, public speaking, and research among other benefits .

You’ll find debate speeches to be common in public forums, legislative sessions, and court trials.

9.   Forensic Speech

According to the American Forensic Association (AFA), the definition of a forensic speech is the study and practice of public speaking and debate. It’s said to be practiced by millions of high school and college students.

It’s called forensic because it’s styled like the competitions held in public forums during the time of the ancient Greeks.

Prior to a forensic speech, students are expected to research and practice a speech about a certain topic to teach it to an audience. Schools, universities, or other organizations hold tournaments for these students to present their speeches.

10. Special Occasion Speech

If your speech doesn’t fall under any of the previous types, then it probably falls under the special occasion speech . These speeches are usually short and to the point, whether the point is to celebrate a birthday party or introduce the guest of honor to an event.

Special occasion speeches can include introductory speeches, ceremonial speeches, and tributary speeches. You may notice that all these can be categorized as entertaining speeches. You’re right, they’re a subtype of entertaining speeches because they neither aim to teach nor to persuade you.

But this type shouldn’t be viewed as the black sheep of the group; in fact, if you aim to mark a significant event, special occasion speeches are your way to go. They are best suited (no pun intended) for a wedding, a bar mitzvah, or even an office party.

If you’ve reached this far, you should now have a general understanding of what a speech is and hopefully know which type of speech is needed for each occasion. I hope you’ve enjoyed and learned something new from this article. Which type will you use for your next occasion?

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• DOI: 10.2307/3189452
• Corpus ID: 143855900

Speech genres and other late essays

• M. Bakhtin , M. Holquist , +1 author V. W. McGee
• Published 21 January 1988
• Linguistics, Philosophy

3,371 Citations

Dialogism, monologism, and cultural literacy: classical hebrew literature and readers' epistemic paradigms, in the beginning there was conversation, genre and literacy-modeling context in educational linguistics, “textual power” and the subject of oral interpretation: an alternate approach to performing literature, criticism and conversational texts: rhetorical bases of role, audience, and style in the buber-rogers dialogue, the translator, summary and critique, a poetics of grammar: playing with narrative perspectives and voices in japanese and translation texts☆, philosophical dialogue – towards the cultural history of the genre, shades of impersonality: rhetorical positioning in the academic writing of italian students of english, related papers.

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Bakhtin on Genre

Influential twentieth century Russian scholar and theorist of communication, Mikhail Bakhtin, explores the nature of genre, or social different social practices producing different kinds of text or utterance.

The wealth and diversity of speech genres are boundless because the various possibilities of human activity are inexhaustible, and because each sphere of activity contains an entire repertoire of speech genres that differentiate and grow as the particular sphere develops and becomes more complex. Special emphasis should be placed on the extreme heterogeneity of speech genres (oral and written). In fact, the category of speech genres should include short rejoinders of daily dialogue (and these are extremely varied depending on the subject matter, situation, and participants), everyday narration, writing (in all its various forms), the brief standard military command, the elaborate and detailed order, the fairly variegated repertoire of business documents (for the most part standard), and the diverse world of commentary (in the broad sense of the word: social, political).

And we must also include here the diverse forms of scientific statements and all literary genres (from the proverb to the multivolume novel). It might seem that speech genres are so heterogeneous that they do not have and cannot have a single common level at which they can be studied. For here, on one level of inquiry, appear such heterogeneous phenomena as the single-word everyday rejoinder and the multivolume novel, the military command that is standardized even in its intonation and the profoundly individual lyrical work, and so on. One might think that such functional heterogeneity makes the common features of speech genres excessively abstract and empty. This probably explains why the general problem of speech genres has never really been raised. Literary genres have been studied more than anything else. But from antiquity to the present, they have been studied in terms of their specific literary and artistic features … and not as specific types of utterances distinct from other types … . Rhetorical genres have been studied since antiquity (and not much has been added in subsequent epochs to classical theory). But here, too, the specific features of rhetorical genres (judicial, political) still overshadowed their general linguistic nature. Finally, everyday speech genres have been studied (mainly rejoinders in everyday dialogue), and from a general linguistic standpoint….

The extreme heterogeneity of speech genres and the attendant difficulty of determining the general nature of the utterance should in no way be underestimated. It is especially important here to draw attention to the very significant difference between primary (simple) and secondary (complex) speech genres (understood not as a functional difference). Secondary (complex) speech genres—novels, dramas, all kinds of scientific research, major genres of commentary, and so forth-arise in more complex and comparatively highly developed and organized cultural communication (primarily written) that is artistic, scientific, sociopolitical, and so on. During the process of their formation, they absorb and digest various primary (simple) genres that have taken form in unmediated speech communion. These primary genres are altered and assume a special character when they enter into complex ones. They lose their immediate relation to actual reality and to the real utterances of others. For example, rejoinders of everyday dialogue or letters found in a novel retain their form and their everyday significance only on the plane of the novel’s content. They enter into actual reality only via the novel as a whole, that is, as a literary-artistic event and not as everyday life. The novel as a whole is an utterance just as rejoinders in everyday dialogue or private letters are (they do have a common nature), but unlike these, the novel is a secondary (complex) utterance.

The difference between primary and secondary (ideological) genres is very great and fundamental, but this is precisely why the nature of the utterance should be revealed and defined through analysis of both types. The very interrelations between primary and secondary genres and the process of the historical formation of the latter shed light on the nature of the utterance (and above all on the complex problem of the interrelations among language, ideology, and world view).

A study of the nature of the utterance and of the diversity of generic forms of utterances in various spheres of human activity is immensely important to almost all areas of linguistics and philology. A clear idea of the nature of the utterance in general and of the peculiarities of the various types of utterances (primary and secondary), that is, of various speech genres, is necessary, we think, for research in any special area. To ignore the nature of the utterance or to fail to consider the peculiarities of generic subcategories of speech in any area of linguistic study leads to perfunctoriness and excessive abstractness, distorts the historicity of the research, and weakens the link between language and life. After all, language enters life through concrete utterances (which manifest language) and life enters language through concrete utterances as well. The utterance is an exceptionally important node of problems.

Bakhtin, M. Speech Genres & Other Late Essays, (trans. by Vern W. McGee) . Austin, TX: University of Texas Press, 1986, pp. 60-63. || Amazon || WorldCat

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• Types of speeches

The 4 types of speeches in public speaking

Informative, demonstrative, persuasive and special occasion.

By:  Susan Dugdale  

There are four main types of speeches or types of public speaking.

• Demonstrative
• Special occasion or Entertaining

To harness their power a speaker needs to be proficient in all of them: to understand which speech type to use when, and how to use it for maximum effectiveness.

What's on this page:

An overview of each speech type, how it's used, writing guidelines and speech examples:

• informative
• demonstrative
• special occasion/entertaining
• how, and why, speech types overlap

Return to Top

Informative speeches

An informative speech does as its name suggests: informs. It provides information about a topic. The topic could be a place, a person, an animal, a plant, an object, an event, or a process.

The informative speech is primarily explanatory and educational.

Its purpose is not to persuade or influence opinion one way or the other. It is to provide sufficient relevant material, (with references to verifiable facts, accounts, studies and/or statistics), for the audience to have learned something. 

What they think, feel, or do about the information after they've learned it, is up to them.

This type of speech is frequently used for giving reports, lectures and, sometimes for training purposes. 

Examples of informative speech topics:

• the number, price and type of dwellings that have sold in a particular suburb over the last 3 months
• the history of the tooth brush
• how trees improves air quality in urban areas
• a brief biography of Bob Dylan
• the main characteristics of Maine Coon cats
• the 1945 US bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki
• the number of, and the work of local philanthropic institutions
• the weather over the summer months
• the history of companion planting 
• how to set up a new password
• how to work a washing machine

Click this link if you'd like more informative topic suggestions .  You'll find hundreds of them.

And this link to find out more about the 4 types of informative speeches : definition, description, demonstration and explanation. (Each with an example outline and topic suggestions.)  

Demonstration, demonstrative or 'how to' speeches

A demonstration speech is an extension of an informative process speech. It's a 'how to' speech, combining informing with demonstrating.

The topic process, (what the speech is about), could either be demonstrated live or shown using visual aids.

The goal of a demonstrative speech is to teach a complete process step by step.

It's found everywhere, all over the world: in corporate and vocational training rooms, school classrooms, university lecture theatres, homes, cafes... anywhere where people are either refreshing or updating their skills. Or learning new ones.

Knowing to how give a good demonstration or 'how to' speech is a very valuable skill to have, one appreciated by everybody.

Examples of 'how to' speech topics are:

• how to braid long hair
• how to change a car tire
• how to fold table napkins
• how to use the Heimlich maneuver
• how to apply for a Federal grant
• how to fill out a voting form
• how to deal with customer complaints
• how to close a sale
• how to give medicine to your cat without being scratched to bits! 

Resources for demonstration speeches

1 . How to write a demonstration speech   Guidelines and suggestions covering:

• choosing the best topic : one aligning with your own interests, the audience's, the setting for the speech and the time available to you
• how to plan, prepare and deliver your speech - step by step guidelines for sequencing and organizing your material plus a printable blank demonstration speech outline for you to download and complete  
• suggestions to help with delivery and rehearsal . Demonstration speeches can so easily lurch sideways into embarrassment. For example: forgetting a step while demonstrating a cake recipe which means it won't turn out as you want it to. Or not checking you've got everything you need to deliver your speech at the venue and finding out too late, the very public and hard way, that the lead on your laptop will not reach the only available wall socket. Result. You cannot show your images.

2.  Demonstration speech sample outline   This is a fully completed outline of a demonstration speech. The topic is 'how to leave an effective voice mail message' and  the sample covers the entire step by step sequence needed to do that.

There's a blank printable version of the outline template to download if you wish and a YouTube link to a recording of the speech.

3.  Demonstration speech topics   4 pages of 'how to' speech topic suggestions, all of them suitable for middle school and up.

Persuasive speeches

The goal of a persuasive speech is to convince an audience to accept, or at the very least listen to and consider, the speaker's point of view.

To be successful the speaker must skillfully blend information about the topic, their opinion, reasons to support it and their desired course of action, with an understanding of how best to reach their audience.

Everyday examples of persuasive speeches

Common usages of persuasive speeches are:

• what we say when being interviewed for a job
• presenting a sales pitch to a customer
• political speeches - politicians lobbying for votes,
• values or issue driven speeches e.g., a call to boycott a product on particular grounds, a call to support varying human rights issues: the right to have an abortion, the right to vote, the right to breathe clean air, the right to have access to affordable housing and, so on.

Models of the persuasive process

The most frequently cited model we have for effective persuasion is thousands of years old.  Aristotle, the Greek philosopher, 384–322 BC , explained it as being supported by three pillars: ethos, pathos and logos. 

Briefly, ethos is the reliability and credibility of the speaker. How qualified or experienced are they talk on the topic? Are they trustworthy? Should we believe them? Why?

Pathos is the passion, emotion or feeling you, the speaker, bring to the topic. It's the choice of language you use to trigger an emotional connection linking yourself, your topic and the audience together, in a way that supports your speech purpose.

(We see the echo of Pathos in words like empathy: the ability to understand and share the feels of another, or pathetic: to arouse feelings of pity through being vulnerable and sad.)

Logos is related to logic. Is the information we are being presented logical and rational? Is it verifiable? How is it supported? By studies, by articles, by endorsement from suitably qualified and recognized people?

To successfully persuade all three are needed. For more please see this excellent article:  Ethos, Pathos, Logos: 3 Pillars of Public Speaking and Persuasion 

Monroe's Motivated Sequence of persuasion

Another much more recent model is Monroe's Motivated Sequence based on the psychology of persuasion.

It consists of five consecutive steps: attention, need, satisfaction, visualization and action and was developed in the 1930s by American Alan H Monroe, a lecturer in communications at Purdue University. The pattern is used extensively in advertising, social welfare and health campaigns.

Resources for persuasive speeches

1.   How to write a persuasive speech Step by step guidelines covering:

• speech topic selection
• setting speech goals
• audience analysis
• empathy and evidence
• balance and obstacles
• 4 structural patterns to choose from

2. A persuasive speech sample outline using Monroe's Motivated Sequence

3. An example persuasive speech written using Monroe's Motivated Sequence  

4.  Persuasive speech topics : 1032+ topic suggestions which includes 105 fun persuasive ideas , like the one below.☺ 

Special occasion or entertaining speeches

The range of these speeches is vast: from a call 'to say a few words' to delivering a lengthy formal address.

This is the territory where speeches to mark farewells, thanksgiving, awards, birthdays, Christmas, weddings, engagements and anniversaries dwell, along with welcome, introduction and thank you speeches, tributes, eulogies and commencement addresses. 

In short, any speech, either impromptu or painstakingly crafted, given to acknowledge a person, an achievement, or an event belongs here.

You'll find preparation guidelines, as well as examples of many special occasion speeches on my site.

Resources for special occasion speeches

How to prepare:

• an acceptance speech , with an example acceptance speech 
• a birthday speech , with ongoing links to example 18th, 40th and 50th birthday speeches
• an office party Christmas speech , a template with an example speech
• an engagement party toast , with 5 examples
• a eulogy or funeral speech , with a printable eulogy planner and access to 70+ eulogy examples
• a farewell speech , with an example (a farewell speech to colleagues)
• a golden (50th) wedding anniversary speech , with an example speech from a husband to his wife
• an impromptu speech , techniques and templates for impromptu speaking, examples of one minute impromptu speeches with a printable outline planner, plus impromptu speech topics for practice
• an introduction speech for a guest speaker , with an example
• an introduction speech for yourself , with an example
• a maid of honor speech for your sister , a template, with an example
• a retirement speech , with an example from a teacher leaving to her students and colleagues
• a student council speech , a template, with an example student council president, secretary and treasurer speech
• a Thanksgiving speech , a template, with an example toast
• a thank you speech , a template, with an example speech expressing thanks for an award, also a business thank you speech template
• a tribute (commemorative) speech , with a template and an example speech
• a welcome speech for an event , a template, an example welcome speech for a conference, plus a printable welcome speech planner
• a welcome speech for new comers to a church , a template with an example speech
• a welcome speech for a new member to the family , a template with an example

Speech types often overlap

Because speakers and their speeches are unique, (different content, purposes, and audiences...), the four types often overlap. While a speech is generally based on one principal type it might also have a few of the features belonging to any of the others. 

For example, a speech may be mainly informative but to add interest, the speaker has used elements like a demonstration of some sort, persuasive language and the brand of familiar humor common in a special occasion speech where everybody knows each other well.

The result is an informative 'plus' type of speech. A hybrid! It's a speech that could easily be given by a long serving in-house company trainer to introduce and explain a new work process to employees.  

Related pages:

• how to write a good speech . This is a thorough step by step walk through, with examples, of the general speech writing process. It's a great place to start if you're new to writing speeches. You'll get an excellent foundation to build on.
• how to plan a speech - an overview of ALL the things that need to be considered before preparing an outline, with examples
• how to outline a speech - an overview, with examples, showing how to structure a speech, with a free printable blank speech outline template to download
• how to make and use cue cards  - note cards for extemporaneous speeches 
• how to use props (visual aids)    

And for those who would like their speeches written for them:

• commission me to write for you

speaking out loud 

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Top 10 popular pages

• Welcome speech
• Demonstration speech topics
• Impromptu speech topic cards
• Thank you quotes
• Impromptu public speaking topics
• Farewell speeches
• Phrases for welcome speeches
• Student council speeches
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From fear to fun in 28 ways

A complete one stop resource to scuttle fear in the best of all possible ways - with laughter.

Featured in:

Martin Luther King’s I have a dream . Winston Churchill’s we shall fight on the beaches speech. J. F. Kennedy’s The decision to go to the moon speech. Nelson Mandela’s I am the first accused speech. Abraham Lincoln’s Gettysburg address . Barrack Obama’s yes we can speech.

One thing all these have in common is that they were some of the most powerful speeches of their times. They brought people together and got them united towards the achievement of a single cause.

Speeches are a great way to sell an idea to people, deliver a message, impart knowledge, and persuade people to support a cause or idea. What many do not know, however, is that there are several types of speeches.

Knowing the different types of speeches can make you more effective at making speeches and move you from the 75% of the population who have a fear of public speaking , because you will have a good idea of which type of speech to use on which occasion and to which audience.

Below, let’s take a look at 9 different types of speeches.

DEMONSTRATIVE SPEECH

Have you ever been to a workshop or seminar where a speaker was showing people how to do something, such as how to exercise at home, how to use certain software, or how to use a certain product? If you have, it means that you have witnessed a demonstrative speech in action.

A demonstrative speech is a speech that is given with the aim of educating the audience about something. The key differentiating thing about demonstrative speeches, however, is that they are always accompanied by a demonstration.

The speaker doesn’t simply tell you how to do something or how something works. Instead, they demonstrate how to do it, or how the thing works, with visual aids to make it easier for the audience to understand what the speaker is talking about. The video below shows an example of a demonstrative speech.

Since the demonstrative speech seeks to impart knowledge, it can easily be confused for an informative speech, which also has similar objectives.

However, they have their differences. First, we have already seen that unlike the informative speech, the demonstrative speech has to be accompanied by visual aids to demonstrate what is being taught.

The other key difference between the two kinds of speeches is that whereas the informative speech focuses mostly on theoretical concepts, the demonstrative speech is more focused on the practical aspect of things. In other words, the demonstrative speech focuses more on the how, unlike the informative speech, which focuses mainly on the what.

You can give a demonstrative speech on just about anything that teaches people how to do something – how to earn a passive income , how to prepare for a job interview , how to maintain a car, you name it. However, for it to qualify as a demonstrative speech, you have to actually demonstrate how to do whatever it is you are talking about.

INFORMATIVE SPEECH

The informative speech, as you might have deduced, is a close ally of the demonstrative speech. The main objective of the informative speech is to convey information that the audience wasn’t aware of previously.

Remember your days back in college, when you used to doodle on your notebook while your professor droned on and on about some concept in physics that you couldn’t seem to wrap your head around? You might not have known it at the time, but your professor was actually giving an informative speech.

Similarly, if you have had a guided tour of a zoo or a game reserve, what you experienced was an informative speech.

Informative speeches can convey information about events, concepts, objects, processes, and so on.

To make the speech effective, the speaker tries to break down the topic they are talking about into simple, easy-to-digest ideas that can be understood by a layman. Informative speeches are usually accompanied by statistics, facts, and other data. Unlike demonstrative speeches, however, informative speeches are not accompanied by visual aids.

ENTERTAINING SPEECH

Have you been to an event where the MC enthralled the audience with funny story after funny story, leaving the crowd dying with laughter? If you have, what you witnessed was an example of an entertaining speech.

The main objective of the entertaining speech is to amuse the audience and provide them with pleasure and enjoyment.

To achieve this objective, entertaining speeches are accompanied by funny stories and illustrations, jokes, and other forms of humor. In most cases, entertaining speeches are quite short, lasting just a few minutes.

PERSUASIVE SPEECH

A politician giving a campaign speech with the aim of convincing the electorate to elect him or her to public office. A lawyer trying to convince the jury about the innocence of their client.

A teenager trying to convince their parents to allow them to go out with friends. Someone trying to convince a group of friends to try out a certain restaurant. An entrepreneur giving a sales pitch to convince investors to invest in his startup. All these are examples of persuasive speeches.

A persuasive speech refers to any speech given with the objective of persuading the audience that the speaker’s opinion is the right one, and by extension, convincing them that they should embrace the same opinion or provide their support to the speaker.

Obviously, persuading people to not only view your opinion as the right one, but to also embrace the same opinion and give you their support is not an easy thing to do.

Therefore, persuasive speeches employ a variety techniques to convince the audience. For instance, the speaker might use facts and statistics to make what they are saying more believable and more sensible. This means that the speaker needs to have performed a thorough research of the topic and gathered as much material as possible to back up their argument.

Alternatively, the speaker can appeal to the feelings and emotions of the audience to persuade them to adopt the speaker’s point of view and give their support.

This tactic is especially useful when trying to rally up support for a cause, such as raising funds to help the elderly, the poor, oppressed women, orphaned children, and so on.

For instance, Martin Luther King’s I have a dream speech is an example of a persuasive speech that appealed on the emotions of people to persuade them to take a stand against racism and inequality.

ORATORICAL SPEECH

This term refers to speeches that are delivered in an orator’s style. I know this might sound a little bit confusing since in the basic sense of the word, anyone giving a speech is an orator.

In most cases, oratorical speeches are given at events that call for a special celebration, such as ribbon cutting ceremonies, graduation parties, inauguration ceremonies, going-away parties, birthday parties, retirement parties, wedding receptions, and so on.

In some cases, some political speeches can also be considered to be oratorical in nature. For this to happen, however, the speaker should not be trying to persuade people to do something (such as vote for them) or to settle complex arguments. Instead, they should be general speeches that appeal to basic truths and common virtues.

Depending on the nature of the event, oratorical speeches can either be short and informal (such as in birthday parties and retirement parties), or long and formal (such as in presidential inauguration ceremonies). A good example of a great oratorical speech is J. F. Kennedy’s inaugural speech.

MOTIVATIONAL SPEECH

In my final year in high school, I was captain of the basketball team, and there’s this one game I will never forget. It was the final game of the high school basketball tournament, and if we won, we would be crowned state champions.

Problem is, we were trailing by 15 points at the break of half time. During the half time break, our coach gave us one of the most moving speeches I have ever heard.

He reminded us how much we had trained for this moment, reminded us that we were the best team he had ever coached, and told us that we had it in us to overturn the game and clinch the trophy.

We went back onto that court with so much determination and desire, and by the time the ref blew the final whistle, we were leading by 12 points and were crowned state champions. I attribute our success on the court that day to that half-time speech by our coach.

The speech he gave us is an example of a motivational speech.

A motivational speech is a type of speech that is given with the aim of encouraging or inspiring the audience and getting them to do better or improve themselves.

Motivational speeches are common in business meetings to encourage employees to improve their performance, in schools to inspire students to do their best in tests, and in sporting events to inspire athletes to give their all.

Motivational speeches are also good for lifting a person’s self-esteem or turning negative situations into positive ones. A good example of a great motivation speech is Steve Job’s Stanford commencement speech .

INTRODUCTORY SPEECH

An introductory speech refers to a kind of speech that is used to get the audience ready for the main focus on a meeting, gathering or event.

For instance, before the keynote speaker at an event gets on stage to give their speech, someone else will get on stage to introduce the keynote speaker to the audience.

Basically, the introductory speech introduces to the audience whoever or whatever they came to see or listen to. This could be a musician, a music band, an award winner, a motivational speaker, or even a staged production.

Introductory speeches are also common in social gatherings, such as graduations, promotion parties, wedding receptions, and so on. They are used to introduce the person(s) in whose honor an event or gathering has been held.

Ideally, an introductory speech should be short, and its main focus should be the person the speech is introducing. The introductory speech will usually provide a few biographical details about the person being introduced, mention this person’s qualifications or credentials, and probably share a quick anecdote about the person.

For an introductory speech to be effective, it should be positive, including a few complementary words about the person being introduced, and if possible, it should also be entertaining.

The aim is to get the audience excited about listening to the person being introduced.

ACCEPTANCE SPEECH

This is a type of speech that is made by person who is the recipient of a certain honor or award. In most cases, the acceptance speech comes immediately after an introductory speech introducing the recipient of the award.

In most cases, the acceptance speech is usually short. The aim of the acceptance speech is for the speaker to express their gratitude for the award or honor they have received, to thank the people behind the competition or event, and to appreciate those who helped them achieve whatever it is that led to them being honored.

In most cases, acceptance speeches are accompanied by a lot of emotion, which can make them quite difficult, especially for someone who is giving such a speech for the first time.

Perhaps the best thing to do when giving an acceptance speech is to follow the advice of former US President Franklin D. Roosevelt: Be sincere. Be brief. Be seated.

A toast refers to a speech that is made with the main objective of honoring another person or a group of people. Toasts typically end in a phrase like “let’s raise our glasses to…” followed by a drink.

Toasts are usually given at celebratory events and gatherings, such as retirement parties, graduations, birthday parties, wedding receptions, award dinners, and so on. Most toasts are usually informal and relatively short. Still, they can be difficult to make, and in most cases, they need some prior rehearsal.

In many cases, there are rules and guidelines to specify who is supposed to give a toast. For instance, in a wedding reception, the toast is usually made by the best man or the bride’s father.

Depending on the tone of the occasion, a toast can be humorous, inspirational, sentimental, and in some cases, solemn. In most cases, the person making the toast has to be closely associated with the reason behind the toast.

TIPS ON HOW TO GIVE BETTER AND MORE EFFECTIVE SPEECHES

Before giving a speech, you need to be well prepared in order to give a successful speech that will effectively achieve its objective. Remember, no speech is made just for the sake of it.

In addition, considering that most speeches are made in public settings, being prepared and giving a good speech can help cement your reputation as an orator. Below, let’s take a look at some tips that will help you give better and more effective speeches.

Know Your Audience

Having a good understanding of your audience is a very crucial aspect when it comes to making better and more effective speeches. A good speech is one that resonates well with the audience.

However, it is impossible for a speech to resonate with your audience if you do not have a good idea of the people who will be listening to the speech.

For instance, if you were asked to give a motivational speech to a group of entrepreneurs and to a group of students, you would not address them the same way, even if your objective would be the same for both speeches – encouraging and inspiring your audience. Knowing your audience allows you to tailor your speech to them.

Use Interesting Visual Aids For Demonstrative Speeches

We already saw that visual aids are a critical element of demonstrative speeches. It is impossible to make a demonstrative speech without visual aids.

To make your speech effective, you should make sure that your visual aids are both interesting (this allows you to capture and hold the audience’s attention) and simple (this makes it easier for your audience to understand what you are demonstrating).

There is no shortage of items that you can use as visual aids. You can use photographs, drawings, flashcards, 3-D items, or even actual products, if the situation allows that. Keep in mind that your audience might even be more attentive to your visual aids than to what you are saying, which is why you need to make sure you are using the right visual aids.

Choose An Easy Topic

When giving informative and demonstrative speeches, it is always a great idea to choose an easy topic, both for you and for the audience. An easy topic for you means that you won’t have to struggle much to make your audience understand what you are talking about. An easy topic for your audience will make it easier for you to hold the audience’s attention.

If you choose a topic that is excessively complex or technical, most of your audience might get bored along the way and lose their concentration.

Spice Up Your Entertaining Speeches

When giving an entertaining speech, try to find ways to spice up the speech to keep your audience engaged and to ensure they enjoy the speech.

You can do this by inserting jokes and funny stories into the speech every so often. Without doing this, what was supposed to be an entertaining speech can quickly become monotonous, causing your audience to start drifting away.

Have A Goal In Mind When Giving A Persuasive Speech

Before you start giving a persuasive speech, it should be very clear to you what you want to achieve from the speech. What action do you want your audience to take once you are done giving the speech?

This is what will inform how you are going to deliver your speech. For instance, instead of complaining about something and leaving it at that, you should persuade your audience that that thing is bad and then convince them to take some action against it.

In addition, it is always better to talk about the positivity of what you are trying to achieve or what you want your audience to do, rather than focusing on the negativity of what you are against.

Finally, you should give sufficient information about your stand or opinion to maximize your chances of achieving your goal.

Prepare Adequately

Regardless of the kind of speech you are going to be giving, it is very important to make sure that you are adequately prepared. Research the topic as much as you can, make sure you have the correct facts and statistics, and so on.

There is nothing worse than giving a speech about something, only for someone in the audience to dispute something you confidently said and be right about it.

It makes you look like you don’t know what you are talking about. Once you have all the facts you need, sit down, write your speech, prepare your speech cards , and go through your speech to make sure that everything looks okay.

From there, rehearse how you are going to deliver the speech a couple of times. You can do this in front of a mirror, or in front of a close friend or relative. You want to get to a point where you have your speech flowing from your fingertips.

Practice. Practice. Practice

Unless you are one of the few people who are born with a talent for oration and public speaking, becoming an eloquent orator is not something you are going to do within a single day. You need to practice and practice and practice.

This means that whenever you get a chance to give a speech, you should not let it pass you buy.

Offer to give speeches in various events, and following the events, analyze your speeches and see what you can do to improve. If possible, you can even have someone record you every time you give a speech.

You can then go through these speeches and identify various ways through which you can improve your oratory skills.

WRAPPING UP

Speeches are a great way to bring people together and deliver a message or build support for an idea or cause. For you speech to be effective, however, you have to know which kind of speech to give where.

After reading this article, I hope that you now have a good understanding of the different kinds of speeches and where they should be used. I have also shared a couple of tips which I hope you will start implementing to make your speeches better and more effective.

Comments are closed.

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Literary Theory and Criticism

Home › Key Theories of Mikhail Bakhtin

Key Theories of Mikhail Bakhtin

By NASRULLAH MAMBROL on January 24, 2018 • ( 5 )

Mikhail M. Bakhtin (1895–1975) is increasingly being recognized as one of the major literary theorists of the twentieth century. He is perhaps best known for his radical philosophy of language, as well as his theory of the novel, underpinned by concepts such as “dialogism,” “polyphony,” and “carnival,” themselves resting on the more fundamental concept of “heteroglossia.” Bakhtin’s writings were produced at a time of momentous upheavals in Russia: the Revolution of 1917 was followed by a civil war (1918–1921), famine, and the dark years of repressive dictatorship under Joseph Stalin. While Bakhtin himself was not a member of the Communist Party, his work has been regarded by some as Marxist in orientation, seeking to provide a corrective to the abstractness of extreme formalism. Despite his critique of formalism, he has also been claimed as a member of the Jakobsonian formalist school, as a poststructuralist , and even as a religious thinker. Bakhtin’s fraught career as an author reflects the turbulence of his times: of the numerous books he wrote in the post-revolutionary decade and in the 1930s, only one was published under his own name. The others, such as the influential Rabelais and his World (1965), were not published until much later. After decades of obscurity, he witnessed in the 1950s a renewed interest in his works and he became a cult figure in the Soviet Union. In the 1970s his reputation extended to France and in the 1980s to England and America.

Bakhtin’s major works as translated into English include Art and Answerability: Early Philosophical Essays (1990), Rabelais and his World (1965; trans. 1968), Problems of Dostoevsky’s Poetics (1929; trans. 1973), The Dialogic Imagination: Four Essays (1930s; trans. 1981), and Speech Genres and Other Late Essays (1986). His important early essay Towards a Philosophy of the Act  (1919) was not published until 1986. This and other early writings, such as Art and Responsibility  and Author and Hero,  are Kantian in orientation, offering a phenomenological account of the intersubjective connection of human selves in language. Bakhtin’s interest in the nature of language was formed in part by members of his Circle. Indeed, the authorship of some of the Bakhtin Circle’s publications is still in dispute: two books, Freudianism (1927) and Marxism and the Philosophy of Language (1929, 1930), were published under the name of Valentin Voloshinov . A further title, The Formal Method in Literary Scholarship (1928), was published under the name of Pavel Medvedev . The dispute was provoked by the linguist V. V. Ivanov , who claimed that these texts were in fact written by Bakhtin. Bakhtin himself refrained from resolving the matter, and the debate continues. It may well be, in any case, that these texts were collaboratively authored or that they express to some extent the shared ideas of members of the Circle.

Bakhtin’s major achievements include the formulation of an innovative and radical philosophy of language as well as a comprehensive “theory” of the novel (though Bakhtin’s work eschews systematic theory that attempts to explain particular phenomena through generalizing and static schemes). The essay to be examined here, Discourse in the Novel , furnishes an integrated statement of both endeavors. Indeed, what purports to be a theory of the novel entails not only a radical account of the nature of language but also a radical critique of the history of philosophy and an innovative explanation of the nature of subjectivity, objectivity, and the very process of understanding.

At the outset, Bakhtin states that his principal object in this essay is to overcome the divorce between an abstract “formal” approach and an equally abstract “ideological” approach to the study of “verbal art” (here referring to the language of poetry and the novel). He insists that form and content in discourse “are one,” and that “verbal discourse is a social phenomenon” (DI, 259). Bakhtin’s point is that traditional stylistics have ignored the social dimensions of artistic discourse, which has been treated as a self-subsistent phenomenon, cut off from broader historical movements and immersion in broad ideological struggles. Moreover, traditional stylistics have not found a place for the novel, which, like other “prosaic” discourse, has been viewed as an “extraartistic medium,” an artistically “neutral” means of communication on the same level as practical speech (DI, 260). He acknowledges that in the 1920s some attempts were made (he appears to be thinking of the Russian Formalists) to recognize “the stylistic uniqueness of artistic prose as distinct from poetry.” However, Bakhtin suggests that such endeavors merely revealed that traditional stylistic categories were not applicable to novelistic discourse (DI, 261).

Bakhtin lists the stylistic features into which the “unity” of the novel is usually divided: (1) direct authorial narration, (2) stylization of everyday speech, (3) stylization of semiliterary discourse such as letters and diaries, (4) various types of extra-artistic speech, such as moral, philosophical, and scientific statements, and (5) the individualized speech of characters. His point is that each of these “heterogeneous stylistic unities” combines in the novel to “form a structured artistic system” and that the “stylistic uniqueness of the novel as a genre consists precisely in the combination of these subordinated, yet still relatively autonomous, unities . . . into the higher unity of the work as a whole.” Hence the novel can be “defined as a diversity of social speech types (sometimes even diversity of languages) and a diversity of individual voices, artistically organized” (DI, 262).

It quickly becomes apparent that Bakhtin’s view of the novel is dependent upon his broader view of the nature of language as “dialogic” and as comprised of “heteroglossia.” In order to explain the concept of dialogism, we first need to understand the latter term: “heteroglossia” refers to the circumstance that what we usually think of as a single, unitary language is actually comprised of a multiplicity of languages interacting with, and often ideologically competing with, one another. In Bakhtin’s terms, any given “language” is actually stratified into several “other languages” (“heteroglossia” might be translated as “other-languageness”). For example, we can break down “any single national language into social dialects, characteristic group behavior, professional jargons, generic languages, languages of generations and age groups, . . . languages of the authorities, of various circles and of passing fashions . . . each day has its own slogan, its own vocabulary, its own emphases.” It is this heteroglossia, says Bakhtin, which is “the indispensable prerequisite for the novel as a genre” (DI, 263).

“Dialogism” is a little more difficult to explain. On the most basic level, it refers to the fact that the various languages that stratify any “single” language are in dialogue with one another; Bakhtin calls this “the primordial dialogism of discourse,” whereby all discourse has a dialogic orientation (DI, 275). We might illustrate this using the following example: the language of religious discourse does not exist in a state of ideological and linguistic “neutrality.” On the contrary, such discourse might act as a “rejoinder” or “reply” to elements of political discourse. The political discourse might encourage loyalty to the state and adherence to material ambitions, whereas the religious discourse might attempt to displace those loyalties with the pursuit of spiritual goals. Even a work of art does not come, Minerva-like, fully formed from the brain of its author, speaking a single monologic language: it is a response, a rejoinder, to other works, to certain traditions, and it situates itself within a current of intersecting dialogues (DI, 274). Its relation to other works of art and to other languages (literary and non-literary) is dialogic.

Bakhtin has a further, profounder, explanation of the concept of dialogism. He explains that there is no direct, unmediated relation between a word and its object: “no living word relates to its object in a singular way.” In its path toward the object, the word encounters “the fundamental and richly varied opposition of . . . other, alien words about the same object.” Any concrete discourse, says Bakhtin,

finds the object at which it was directed already as it were overlain with qualifications, open to dispute, charged with value, already enveloped in an obscuring mist – or, on the contrary, by the “light” of alien words that have already been spoken about it. It is entangled, shot through with shared thoughts, points of view, alien value judgments and accents. The word, directed toward its object, enters a dialogically agitated and tensionfilled environment . . . it cannot fail to become an active participant in social dialogue . . . The way in which the word conceives its object is complicated by a dialogic interaction within the object between various aspects of its socio-verbal intelligibility. (DI, 276–277)

Offering a summary of his view, Bakhtin states that the “word is born in a dialogue as a living rejoinder within it; the word is shaped in dialogic interaction with an alien word that is already in the object. A word forms a concept of its own object in a dialogic way” (DI, 279). The underlying premise here is that language is not somehow a neutral medium, transparently related to the world of objects. Any utterance, whereby we assign a given meaning to a word, or use a word in a given way, is composed not in a vacuum in which the word as we initially encounter it is empty of significance. Rather, even before we utter the word in our own manner and with our own signification, it is already invested with many layers of meaning, and our use of the word must accommodate those other meanings and in some cases compete with them. Our utterance will in its very nature be dialogic: it is born as one voice in a dialogue that is already constituted; it cannot speak monologically, as the only voice, in some register isolated from all social, historical, and ideological contexts.

We might illustrate this notion of dialogism with an example taken from the stage of modern international politics. Those of us living in Europe or America tend to think of the word (and concept of ) “democracy” as invested with a broad range of positive associations: we might relate it generally with the idea of political progress, with a history of emancipation from feudal economic and political constraints, with what we think of as “civilization,” with a secular and scientific worldview, and perhaps above all with the notion of individual freedom. But when we attempt to export this word, this concept, to another culture such as that of Iraq, we find that our use of this word encounters a great deal of resistance in the linguistic and ideological registers of that nation. For one thing, the word “democracy” may be overlain in that culture with associations of a foreign power, and with some of the ills attendant upon democracy (as noted by thinkers from Plato to Alexis de Tocqueville): high crime rates, unrestrained individualism, the breakdown of family structure, a lack of reverence for the past, a disrespect for authority, and a threat to religious doctrine and values.

What occurs here, then, is precisely what Bakhtin speaks of: an ideological battle within the word itself, a battle for meaning, for the signification of the word, an endeavor to make one’s own use of the word predominate. The battle need not occur between cultures; it can rage within a given nation. For example, a similar battle could exist between conservative religious groups and progressive groups in either America or Iraq. Similar struggles occur over words such as “terrorism,” welded by the Western media to a certain image of Islam, and qualified in the Arab media with prefixes such as “state-sponsored.” In such struggles, the word itself becomes the site of intense ideological conflict. We can see, then, that according to Bakhtin’s view of language, language is not some neutral and transparent expression of conflict; it is the very medium and locus of conflict.

In formulating this radical notion of language, Bakhtin is also effecting a profound critique not only of linguistics and conventional stylistics but also of the history of philosophy. He sees traditional stylistics as inadequate for analyzing the novel precisely because it bypasses the heteroglossia that enables the style of the novel. Stylistics views style as a phenomenon of language itself, as an “individualization of the general language.” In other words, the source of style is “the individuality of the speaking subject” (DI, 263–264). In this view, the work of art is treated as a “self-sufficient whole” and an “authorial monologue,” whose “elements constitute a closed system,” isolated from all social contexts (DI, 273–274). Bakhtin sees such a view of style as founded on Saussure’s concept of language, itself premised on a polarity between general and particular, between langue (the system of language) and parole (the individual speech act). This notion of style presupposes both a “unity of language” and “the unity of an individual person realizing himself in this language” (DI, 264). Such a notion leads to a distorted treatment of the novel, selecting “only those elements that can be fitted within the frame of a single language system and that express, directly and without mediation, an authorial individuality in language” (DI, 265). Stylistics, linguistics, and the philosophy of language all postulate a unitary language and a unitary relation of the speaker to language, a speaker who engages in a “monologic utterance.” All these disciplines enlist the Saussurean model of language, based on the polarity of general (language system) and particular (individualized utterance) (DI, 269).

Bakhtin’s essential point is that such a unitary language is not real but merely posited by linguistics: “A unitary language is not something given . . . but is always in essence posited . . . and at every moment of its linguistic life it is opposed to the realities of heteroglossia. But at the same time it makes its real presence felt as a force for overcoming this heteroglossia, imposing specific limits to it, guaranteeing a certain maximum of mutual understanding and crystallizing into a real, although still relative, unity – the unity of the reigning conversational (everyday) and literary language, ‘correct language’ ” (DI, 270). Hence, when we speak of “a language” or “the language,” we are employing an ideal construct whose purpose is to freeze into a monologic intelligibility the constantly changing dialogic exchange of languages that actually constitute “language.” In this respect, the historical project of literary stylistics, philosophy, and linguistics has been one:

Aristotelian poetics, the poetics of Augustine, the poetics of the medieval church, of “the one language of truth,” the Cartesian poetics of neoclassicism, the abstract grammatical universalism of Leibniz (the idea of a “universal grammar”), Humboldt’s insistence on the concrete – all these, whatever their differences in nuance, give expression to the same centripetal forces in socio-linguistic and ideological life; they serve one and the same project of centralizing and unifying the European languages. (DI, 271)

Bakhtin sees this project as deeply ideological and political: it was a project that entailed exalting certain languages over others, incorporating “barbarians and lower social strata into a unitary language of culture,” canonizing ideological systems and directing attention away “from language plurality to a single proto-language.” Nonetheless, insists Bakhtin, these centripetal forces are obliged to “operate in the midst of heteroglossia” (DI, 271). Even as various attempts are being made to undertake the project of centralization and unification, the processes of decentralization and disunification continue. As Bakhtin puts it, alongside “the centripetal forces, the centrifugal forces of language carry on their uninterrupted work” (DI, 272).

This dialectic between the centripetal forces of unity and the centrifugal forces of dispersion is, for Bakhtin, a constituting characteristic of language. Every utterance, he says, is a point where these two forces intersect: every utterance participates in the “unitary language” and at the same time “partakes of social and historical heteroglossia.” The environment of an utterance is “dialogized heteroglossia.” Hence the utterance itself – any utterance – consists of “a contradiction-ridden, tension-filled unity of two embattled tendencies in the life of language” (DI, 272). What is fundamental to Bakhtin’s view of language, then, is that no utterance simply floats in an ideally posited atmosphere of ahistorical neutrality; every utterance belongs to someone or some class or group and carries its ideological appurtenance within it. As Bakhtin states: “We are taking language not as a system of abstract grammatical categories, but rather language conceived as ideologically saturated, language as a world view” (DI, 271). In contrast, the disciplines of linguistics, stylistics, and the philosophy of language have all been motivated by an “orientation toward unity.” Given that their project must occur amid the actual diversity, plurality, and stratification of language, i.e., amid heteroglossia, their project has effectively been that of seeking “ unity in diversity,” and they have ignored real “ideologically saturated” language consciousness (DI, 274). They have been oriented toward an “artificial, preconditioned status of the word, a word excised from dialogue” (DI, 279).

Bakhtin’s own view recognizes that the actual word in living conversation is “directed toward an answer . . . it provokes an answer, anticipates it and structures itself in the answer’s direction. Forming itself in the atmosphere of the already spoken, the word is at the same time determined by that which has not yet been said” (DI, 280). Bakhtin here draws attention to the temporal nature of language, to the fact that the word exists in real time, that it has a real history, a real past, and a real future (as opposed to the static time constructs posited by linguistics), all of which condition its presence. His views bear comparison to Bergson ’s views of language as a medium that is essentially spatialized and that has contributed to our conceptual spatializing of time, rather than dealing with real time or durée. What Bakhtin, like Bergson , is doing is reconceiving not merely the nature of language but the act of understanding itself: this, too, is a dialogic process. Every concrete act of understanding, says Bakhtin, is active; it is “indissolubly merged with the response, with a motivated agreement or disagreement . . . Understanding comes to fruition only in the response. Understanding and response are dialectically merged and mutually condition each other; one is impossible without the other” (DI, 282). This “internal dialogism” of the word involves an encounter not with “an alien word within the object itself ” (as in the previously explained level of dialogism) but rather with “the subjective belief system of the listener” (DI, 282).

What Bakhtin appears to be saying is that the clash of different significations within a word is part of a broader conflict, between subjective frameworks, which is the very essence of understanding. Using this model, Bakhtin emphasizes that the dialogic nature of language entails “a struggle among socio-linguistic points of view” (DI, 273). Every verbal act, he explains, can “infect” language with its own intention; each social group has its own language, and, at any given moment, “languages of various epochs and periods of socio-ideological life cohabit with one another . . . every day represents another socio-ideological semantic ‘state of affairs,’ another vocabulary, another accentual system, with its own slogans, its own ways of assigning blame and praise” (DI, 291). The point, again, is not just that language is “heteroglot” and stratified; it is also that “there are no ‘neutral’ words and forms – words and forms that can belong to ‘no one’; language has been completely taken over, shot through with intentions and accents” (DI, 293). Moreover, it is not merely that language is always socially and ideologically charged and is the locus of constant tension and struggle between groups and perspectives: in its role of providing this locus, it also furnishes the very medium for the interaction of human subjects, an interaction that creates the very ground of human subjectivity. For the individual consciousness, says Bakhtin, language “lies on the borderline between oneself and the other. The word in language is half someone else’s. It becomes ‘one’s own’ only when the speaker populates it with his own intention, his own accent, when he appropriates the word” (DI, 293). Prior to this moment of appropriation, the “word does not exist in a neutral and impersonal language”; rather, it is serving other people’s intentions; moreover, not all words are equally open to this “seizure and transformation into private property . . . Language is not a neutral medium that passes freely and easily into the private property of the speaker’s intentions; it is populated – overpopulated – with the intentions of others” (DI, 294).

Bakhtin’s account of language as constitutively underlying the interactions of human subjects bears a certain resemblance to Hegel’s account of the formation of the human subject in interaction with others; whereas Hegel sees subjectivity as a reciprocal effect, arising from the mutual acknowledgment between the consciousnesses of two people, Bakhtin’s exposition explicitly posits language as the medium of such interaction, and hence sees subjectivity as a linguistic effect, though no less reciprocal and dialogic. As Bakhtin puts it, consciousness is faced with “the necessity of having to choose a language. With each literary-verbal performance, consciousness must actively orient itself amidst heteroglossia” (DI, 295).

Given these political and metaphysical implications of Bakhtin’s views of language, it is clear that for him, the study of works of literature cannot be reduced to the examination of a localized and self-enclosed verbal construct. Even literary language, as Bakhtin points out, is stratified in its own ways, according to genre and profession (DI, 288–289). The various dialects and perspectives entering literature form “a dialogue of languages” (DI, 294). It is precisely this fact which, for Bakhtin, marks the characteristic difference between poetry and the novel. According to Bakhtin, most poetry is premised on the idea of a single unitary language; poetry effectively destroys heteroglossia; it strips the word of the intentions of others (DI, 297–298). Everything that enters the poetic work “must immerse itself in Lethe, and forget its previous life in any other contexts: language may remember only its life in poetic contexts” (DI, 297). In other words, the language of poetry is artificial; the meanings and connotations of words are accumulated through a specifically literary tradition insulated from the life of language beyond this self-enclosed system (T. S. Eliot’s notion of literary tradition as an “ideal order” might fit very neatly into Bakhtin’s conception). The language thereby built up is a language that, according to Bakhtin, has largely bypassed the heteroglossia and dialogism of language as used in other registers. Everywhere in poetry, says Bakhtin, “there is only one face – the linguistic face of the author, answering for every word as if it were his own.” Such a treatment of language “presumes precisely this unity of language, an unmediated correspondence with its object” (DI, 297–298). Another way of characterizing this “project” of poetry is to say, as Bakhtin does, that the poetic image carves a direct path to the object, ignoring the numerous other paths laid down to that object, and the meanings previously attached to it, by “social consciousness” (DI, 278).

In the novel, on the contrary, this dialogization of language “penetrates from within the very way in which the word conceives its object” (DI, 284). In the novel, the actual dialogism and heteroglossia of language are fundamental to style; they comprise the enabling conditions of novelistic style, which thrives on giving expression to them. Poetic style extinguishes this dialogism or, at least, does not exploit it for artistic purposes (DI, 284). For the poet, language is an obedient organ, fully adequate to the author’s intention; the poet is completely “within” his language and sees everything through it (DI, 286). Heteroglossia can be present in poetry only as a “depicted thing,” seen through the eyes of the poet’s own language. The novel, on the contrary, integrates heteroglossia as part of its own perspective; it will deliberately deploy alien languages, and the heteroglot languages of various social registers (DI, 287). Words for the novelist are regarded as “his” only as “things that are being transmitted ironically” (DI, 299n). Indeed, the “stratification of language . . . upon entering the novel establishes its own special order within it, and becomes a unique artistic system . . . This constitutes the distinguishing feature of the novel as a genre” (DI, 299–300). Hence, any stylistics capable of dealing with the novel must be a “sociological stylistics” that does not treat the work of literature as a self-enclosed artifact but exposes “the concrete social context of discourse” as the force that determines from within “the entire stylistic structure of the novel” (DI, 300).

At the time when major divisions of the poetic genres were developing under the influence of the unifying, centralizing, centripetal forces of verbal-ideological life, the novel – and those artistic prose genres that gravitate toward it – was being historically shaped by the current of decentralizing, centrifugal forces. At the time when poetry was accomplishing the task of cultural, national and political centralization of the verbal-ideological world in the higher official socio-ideological levels, on the lower levels, on the stages of local fairs and at buffoon spectacles, the heteroglossia of the clown sounded forth, ridiculing all “languages” and dialects; there developed the literature of the fabliaux and Schwanke of street songs, folk-sayings, anecdotes, where there was no language-center at all, where there was to be found a lively play with the “languages” of poets, scholars, monks, knights and others, where all “languages” were masks and where no language could claim to be an authentic, incontestable face. Heteroglossia, as organized in these low genres, was . . . consciously opposed to this literary language. It was parodic, and aimed sharply and polemically against the official languages of its given time. It was heteroglossia that had been dialogized. (DI, 273)

It might be objected that Bakhtin’s conception of poetry is narrow; that some species of poetry do indeed enlist heteroglossia and are politically subversive; it might also be urged that the novelistic form per se may not be subversive, that some novelists express deeply conservative visions. But clearly, in the passage above, Bakhtin sees the genres of poetry and the novel as emblematic of two broad ideological tendencies, the one centralizing and conservative, the other dispersive and radical.

It may even be that “poetry” and “novel” are used by Bakhtin as metaphors for these respective tendencies: thus poetry can indeed be radical, but inasmuch as it challenges official discourses, it enlists attributes of language that are typically deployed by prose. What is interesting is that for Bakhtin, the ideological valency of any position is intrinsically tied to the particular characteristics of language deployed. The “novel” embodies certain metaphysical, ideological, and aesthetic attitudes: it rejects, intrinsically, any concept of a unified self or a unified world; it acknowledges that “the” world is actually formed as a conversation, an endless dialogue, through a series of competing and coexisting languages; it even proposes that “truth” is dialogic. “The development of the novel,” says Bakhtin, “is a function of the deepening of dialogic essence . . . Fewer and fewer neutral, hard elements (‘rock bottom truths’) remain that are not drawn into dialogue” (DI, 300). Hence, truth is redefined not merely as a consensus (which by now is common in cultural theory) but as the product of verbal-ideological struggles, struggles which mark the very nature of language itself.

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Tags: Art and Answerability: Early Philosophical Essays , Author and Hero , Bakhtin Circle , carnivalesque , dialogism , Dialogism and Carnival , Discourse in the Novel , Freudianism , Heteroglossia , Linguistics , Literary Criticism , Literary Theory , Mikhail Bakhtin , Pavel Medvedev , Problems of Dostoevsky's Poetics , Rabelais and His World , The Dialogic Imagination: Four Essays , The Formal Method in Literary Scholarship , Towards a Philosophy of the Act , V. V. Ivanov , Valentin Voloshinov

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Thanks for this, it make a lot more sense, especially as I graduated 30 years ago and revisiting this theory for a piece of work I am doing in OD field!

Very Beautifully written, your work has made Bakhtin’s Dialogism graspable as you have conveyed points clearly. I felt I couldn’t stop myself from reading further, because of the simplicity yet richness of the writing,Thank you

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Speech genre.

Back to Glossary

Bakhtin, M. M. (1986) . The problem of speech genres (V. W. McGee, Trans.). In C. Emerson & M. Holquist (Eds.), Speech genres and other late essays . Austin, TX: University of Texas Press. 60-102.

Bakhtin's (1986) examples range from informal conversation (including "the single-word rejoinder," p. 81) to practical matters such as chronicles, contracts, and letters, to the literary, with a special focus on the novel.

Bauman, R. (2006) . Speech Genres in Cultural Practice. In K. Brown (Ed.), Encyclopedia of Language & Linguistics (2nd ed., Vol. 11, pp. 745–758). Oxford: Elsevier. Hanks, W. F. (1987) . Discourse Genres in a Theory of Practice. American Ethnologist , 14(4), 668–692.  

Bauman (2006) attributes the earliest uses of the concept of speech genres to the work of the Grimm brothers in the early 19th century in developing their collections of oral folk narratives; this work, he says, was largely responsible for the centrality of classification to the efforts of folklorists.

Nick Temple, Carolyn Miller

An Easy Guide to All 15 Types of Speech

There are several types of speeches one can use to deliver a message, to sell an idea, to persuade, or impart knowledge to the intended audience. What are these types of speech , when to use them, and what are some insights on which types of speeches should be used based on multiple occasions, the audience, and the desired result?

The complete Types of Speech Series – Please find some insight for each type of speech by clicking the links below

15 DIFFERENT TYPES OF SPEECH

Demonstrative speech.

The idea behind demonstrative speech is basically to educate the audience that is listening to something they are not aware of. The unique thing about demonstrative speeches is that they could include various visual aids that can help further demonstrate or describe in practical terms how to effectively do something. At first glance, one can say that demonstrative speech is more informative, but the difference is in the fact that informative speeches do not exactly include actual demonstrating of how to do or perform an action.

Imagine that you will give a speech on how to write a blog post, how to sell clothes online, how to fish successfully, or even how to build a house, these can all be considered as demonstrative speeches.

If you’re wondering how to go about getting a speech like demonstrative speech started, the best way is to start by asking your self-critical questions like how or why or what is. These questions will help start the process of creating a power demonstrative speech. Also, as you must know already, a demonstrative speech cannot be considered one without the use of visual aid to help support the process of demonstration.

A great example of demonstrative speeches nowadays are the ones delivered by Apple, and other companies when they are unveiling their latest flagship smartphones, or any other product.

Entertaining speech

Informative speech.

Informative speeches are speeches mainly performed for the purpose of educating the audience on a new or relevant piece of information on a particular topic.

When giving an informative speech, the speaker is expected to present statistics and facts about the topics to back is claims and assertions. Informative speech topics can range from social and economic changes in our community to climate change and how it affects our world today.

So, the next time you hear someone dishing out facts, stats and critical information on a certain topic be sure to note that he or she is giving the audience an informative speech.

Persuasive speech

A persuasive speech is a speech given solely for the purpose of convincing the audience listening that the opinion of the speaker on a particular topic is the right or correct one. Whether you are discussing what movie to watch next or which political standpoint is best for the economy, you are making a persuasive speech.

In order to successfully convince an audience, most speakers tend to use concrete evidence and facts to back up their argument. The use of those various facts makes their own argument seem more sensible and believable, thereby persuading the audience to stand with them and support their claim. This is one of the best ways to ensure your persuasive speech is very effective, by giving solid facts you can easily get the audience to rally around you and give you their support.

Persuasive speeches, depending on the topic, can also be built around emotions and feelings of the speaker and how they resonate with the audiences; If you are trying to convince people to raise fundings to a cause, to help children, elderly,  oppressed women, and so on. The facts are a must, but ultimately in these situations appealing to the audience emotion should yield better results.

I have another post discussing in detail how to deliver persuasive speeches, what are the best techniques to persuade others , and I also shared 120 persuasive speech topics and ideas and how to go about selecting the best topic for your speech in another post , be sure to check it out .

Oratorical speech

Oratorical speeches are a type of speech that is delivered in the style used by an orator. Its name and definition are quite humorous because orator and oratorical both relate to the act of giving a speech.

There are various events and places where one can give an oratorical speech like a birthday party, retirement party, coming out party and a bunch of others. Political speeches are usually considered as oratorical speeches, especially when they are not used to settle an argument but rather to preach virtue and appeal to common basic truths.

Special occasion speech

Another good example of special occasion speeches is a tribute speech given to pay tribute to a person whether they are dead or alive. An award acceptance speech is also another form of special occasion speech, it is given solely to appreciate the audience for the award and Express how much it means to you.

These special occasion speeches are designed to be short, around ten minutes, straight to the point and somewhat mood setting in nature. Most times, special occasion speeches are upbeat and fun, you can easily just go online and find out how to get started on your own little special event.

Motivational speech

One can consider the motivational speech as a special type of speech in which the general self-improvement of the audience is the goal to be attained. A speaker generally engages in this type of speech to encourage and inspire the confidence of his audience to do better with and for themselves.

These speeches are great to motivate people, to inspire them and uplift their self-esteem. There are certain techniques used in given out motivation speech in order for them to yield the best result.

Examples of motivational speeches are seen in schools, whereby teachers try to encourage students to put in extra work and do better in order to improve their grades and overall records.

Explanatory speech

Explanatory speech is one of the types of speech which is given to critically explain a situation or thing. They are somewhat similar in nature to the demonstrative speech. However, the explanatory speech is different from the demonstrative speech in the sense that the explanatory speech gives a detailed step by step and breaks down of how to do something. It is also different in the sense that it does not make use of visual aid to assist in understanding.

The explanatory speech simply just details the step by step to get the know-how on any task or subject. A good example of an explanatory speech is the one being given by a speaker on a food talk show, explaining the step-by-step procedures to make various dishes or the witness explaining how an event took place.

Debate speech

As the normal standard in general debate, all sides are given an equal amount of time to give a speech on how why they think their opinion or view on a certain matter is the right one. Debates are not quite like persuasive speeches because rather than trying to convince the other side to join you on your side, you are simply trying to justify why you are of an opinion on a certain matter.

Forensic speech

The reason why this type of speech is called forensic is because of its strong similarities to the competitions at public forums during the time of ancient Greece.

Impromptu Speech

It can be an embarrassing or ackward experience to be in a situation where you have to speak from the top of your head with no prior preparation. To avoid that, please go through the tips that we shared in one of our other posts on how you can better deal with such stressing situations, and still manage to deliver great impromptu speeches.

Pitching Presentations / Pitch Speech

Being in the working environment and working as a Salesperson you’d probably use this type of speech more often than most people. That is not to say that other professionals, other than salespeople don’t need to master the skills required to ace this type of speech, most of us do.

Check out some details of how you should prepare and deliver a great pitching presentation / pitch speech and get the desired result in the following post.

Farewell Speech

Funeral speeches.

Funeral Speeches or Eulogy is a type of speech where the main aim is to praise, honor and remember the deceased in front of those attending the service. It can be done by someone who is related to the deceased or by a minister who is asked by the family.

Losing a loved one is one the most difficult experiences you can go through, and being able to find the right words and give a funeral speech effectively is even more challenging. Find our guide on how to outline, how to prepare and how to deliver a heartfelt eulogy in the link below.

9 Basic Elements of a Great Persuasive Speech

What makes a bad public speaker top 10 worst traits to avoid.

An audience will always give apt attention to a public speaker that keeps his message clear, simple, and easy to comprehend.  Besides, nobody likes a bad public speaker and would want to waste their precious time under the logos of a boring orator. Below are ten carefully selected traits or qualities that make a bad…

How to Become a Confident Public Speaker – 6 Tips

What is the intended result of your speech.

Whether it be to encourage our friends and colleagues at the office or to convince a client to buy our products. The advantages and benefits of knowing how to properly give a speech or even just communicate to an audience are endless, it is an art form that requires the sharpening of one’s thinking capacity and verbal/nonver bal communication skills.

Reflect back to those times where you had to stand in front of a bunch of people and talk about something. It could be as simple as an oral report of an assignment in a school or as complicated and demanding as a proposal at work. After you were able to gather all your materials and prepared yourself well, getting up to the podium and dish it all out was the next logical step.

When it comes to giving speeches it all comes down to who is saying what, to whom, using what medium with what effect. Simply put, who is the exact source of the information? What is the message or information itself? Who is the audience, while the medium of communication is actually the delivering method being used by the speaker, then it all ends in an effect.

What is the Type of Speech Delivery Method to be used?

There are Four types of speech delivery Methods:

Each type of speech delivery method has its perks and ways to follow. You can read all about them in this article !

Having the ability to speak in public effortlessly and with charisma is a trait and quality every individual in society should desire. And with the proper understanding of these various types of speeches, as well as the techniques required for each, your abilities as a public speaker are only going to grow, and you will continue to impress and amaze your audiences.

Craig Czarnecki. 3 Types of Speeches Every Person Needs to be Familiar with for Success!

Similar Posts

How to introduce a speaker in the right way 11 tips for successful speaker introduction, the 15 different types of motivational speakers, here’s an excellent keynote speech guide: with 2 great examples, common speech starting transitions: without further ado, deliver an effective debate and speech with this 5-step strategy, boring speech fix these 7 mistakes on your presentations.

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Oratory as Social Practice (I): Discursive Genre, Culture, and Power

• First Online: 17 December 2022

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• Fiona Rossette-Crake 3  

Part of the book series: Postdisciplinary Studies in Discourse ((PSDS))

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This chapter is the first of two that examine oratory as social practice. The question of discursive genre is discussed in relation to the heritage of classical rhetoric and public speaking pedagogy, before being addressed within a discourse-analytical framework. The framework proposes to account for various speaking practices according to the social actors and social purposes by which they are informed. For some formats, it is not easy to identify specific genres. Like digital communication generally, digital oratory reflects a “decompartmentalisation” of specialised discourses and generic practices, which can be linked to the horizontal model of information-sharing that is intrinsic to Web 2.0. The second part of the chapter adopts a critical stance, in order to appraise digital oratory practices in light of cultural and economic stakes. The practices, which generally developed within the Anglo-American context, reflect Anglo-American communication norms, as informed notably by corporate, neoliberal trends. These practices therefore leave little room for variation depending on language and/or culture.

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The Lincoln-Douglas debates were a series of debates that opposed Abraham Lincoln as candidate for the U.S. Senate and the incumbent Senator Stephen Douglas. They marked the beginning of the use of debates as publicity events for political candidates.

For instance, the author likens “platform oratory” to what he calls “mob oratory” in that it is said to correspond to a “miscellaneous gathering of all classes, but in which the lower classes predominate” (Cox, 1863 , p. 296).

See also Reisigl ( 2008 , p. 245) for a detailed presentation of these three categories.

“Enclosing scene” overlaps partially with Reisigl’s ( 2008 ) above-mentioned “fields of action,” which in fact correspond to sub fields of action within the superordinate field of political action.

The terms “genre” and “generic scene” are therefore treated as synonyms here, with the latter insisting on the relative and dynamic construction of the entity.

Cambridge English Dictionary .

See: Steve Jobs’ 2005 address at Stanford, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UF8uR6Z6KLc ; Meryl Streep’s 2010 address at Barnard College, Columbia, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5-a8QXUAe2g ; Barack Obama’s 2016 address at Howard University, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_K4MctEmkmI

“Dragons’ Den” first aired in 2005, and “Sharks Tank” in 2009.

Social media has also appropriated the field of political journalism, as illustrated by the example of French YouTuber Hugo Travers, who interviews politicians and members of the government in videos that are comparable to television journalism, but that he qualifies as “vlogs.” See, for instance, his interview with the French Prime Minister Edouard Philippe in 2017, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6cHq4YJzk4g [accessed 03.11.2021].

B. Robinson, “The Marriage of Religion and Technology: Reading Apple’s Allegorical Advertising,” Jan. 27 2014, https://secondnaturejournal.com/the-marriage-of-religion-and-technology-reading-apples-allegorical-advertising/

Even if the current time limit of shorts on social media is 60 seconds (relevant in June 2022), the hypergenre category of “embodied shorts” includes videos that can exceed this limit.

Interestingly, recent changes in French school curricula, such as the introduction into the high-school leaving certificate ( baccalauréat ) of a prepared oral presentation (“ le Grand Oral ”), have led specialists of curricula and rhetoric in the United Kingdom to look to the example of France in the promotion of public speaking skills in schools (see: https://speakingcitizens.org/ ).

For instance, a manager was surprised by the lack of eye contact he received from his audience during a business presentation in Greece in 2021 (personal communication, 2021).

The cases of second and third generation immigrants raise a number of issues which cannot be covered in this book.

In the ranking of cultures with respect to the dimension of individuality, the United States is followed directly by the other English-speaking countries Australia and Great Britain (in that order) (Hofstede & Hofstede, 2005 , p. 78).

Similarly, Kearney and Plax ( 1996 ) apply to the field of public speaking “I-type” cultural types, which “promote individual initiative and achievement by reinforcing the right of every individual “to be his or her private property, thoughts, and opinions” (Samovar & Porter, 1995 , p. 89—quoted in Kearney & Plax, 1996 , p. 51).

Within organisational studies, for instance, scholars warn of “the necessity to adopt multi-level views when examining the effects of culture” (Miska et al., 2018 ).

My translation from the French.

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Echo chamber: “an environment in which a person encounters only beliefs or opinions that coincide with their own, so that their existing views are reinforced and alternative ideas are not considered” ( Oxford English Dictionary ).

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Rossette-Crake, F. (2022). Oratory as Social Practice (I): Discursive Genre, Culture, and Power. In: Digital Oratory as Discursive Practice. Postdisciplinary Studies in Discourse. Palgrave Macmillan, Cham. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-031-18984-5_6

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The Language of Heroes: Speech and Performance in the Iliad

Citation:   Use the following persistent identifier: http://nrs.harvard.edu/urn-3:hul.ebook:CHS_Martin.The_Language_of_Heroes.1989 .

Chapter 2. Heroic Genres of Speaking

{43} The notion of “genre” has been described as “the most powerful explanatory tool available to the literary critic.” [ 1 ] It has usually been discussed within the confines of literary criticism. With the growth of Modernism and, concurrently, the recognition of non-Western literary traditions, critical assumptions about idealized genres of any sort have had to change. [ 2 ] In this critical climate, perhaps the most useful change for students of Homer is the increasing attention paid to non-standard, or even nonliterary genres, such conventional yet variable forms as proverbs, street games, anecdotes, conversation, even sports announcing, military commands, and auctioneering. These “genres” of verbal behavior attract the attention, primarily, of folklorists and anthropologists. Yet the study of these seemingly trivial forms, unusual as it may be to classicists, should engage the literary critic. Through such genres we obtain the best view of the social nature of verbal art; we can perceive, by means of these forms, the link between conventionalized modes of speech and the institutions of a society. We can then approach the larger genres in their social settings, for, as Victor Turner reminds us, “the major genres of cultural performance (from ritual to theater and film) and narration (from myth to the novel) not only originate in the social drama but also continue to draw meaning and force from the social drama.” [ 3 ] One can go further, I believe, and assert that these “social” genres are in {43|44} fact primary, whereas literary genres can vary according to a given society’s ideas of performance. Just as one must reconstruct the total system to understand individual terms for speech-acts, we can only hope to evaluate a truly foreign literature, such as archaic Greek poetry, by reference to the society’s total performance system, including those conventional verbal activities which, perhaps, we might not think “literary” at all. A case in point: the Maori place great importance on ritual oratory and stylized greetings. The formulas of such verbal events are well known, but they are constantly undergoing change and recombination because this is a vital oral art form. One judges a leader by his ability to engage in this art, at the right time, in the most stylized yet topical way. Although the Maori do not have developed “drama” in the Western sense, these events, to some degree, take on the values and performance interest of plays. A student of the conventional “literature” would neglect them at great risk. [ 4 ] In the same way, prayer among the Navaho, verbal repartee among Antiguans, and joking, tantalisin , and busin in Guyana all represent socially grounded verbal genres to which attention and prestige are accorded, on a level with the prestige given poetry in the European tradition. [ 5 ]

Is Homer in the European tradition? In hindsight, surely, the poet is its progenitor. But it may be more effective for an investigation of the Iliad if we abandon the notion of “genre” as a literary term and train ourselves in the anthropologist’s working methods. If we examine the speeches within this poem, it can be seen that there are “genres”—conventional verbal organizations—for certain ways of speaking. The major rhetorical genres available for the heroic performers are prayer, lament, supplication, commanding, insulting, and narrating from memory. [ 6 ] We could, of course, argue that these {44|45} conventional ways of speaking are the poet’s convenient compositional shorthand. Fenik has well shown how Homer builds his narrative of battle in the same way that he builds the poetic line, by reuse in new combinations of traditional stock elements. [ 7 ] But I prefer to turn the issue around slightly: Homer would not have “traditional scenes” if it were not traditional for actual Greek warriors to arm, fight, eat, sleep, and die. In the same way, the rhetorical repertoire available to each hero must be rooted in the actual range of speaking strategies available to any Greek speaker. Although the speeches in the Iliad are without question highly stylized poetic versions of reality, they are nevertheless meant to be mimetic, as are the battle descriptions. This is what heroes would say. As with descriptions of battle, there is room in Homeric speechmaking for both traditional elements and innovations. The poetry of Homer at times finds difficulty in handling traditional elements; the role of the chariot, for example, seems unclear to the composer, resulting in the unlikely depiction of warriors who dismount to fight. It is even more likely that the speech portions of the poem are more freely composed, made up more from the poet’s knowledge of how his contemporaries argue and talk, since the poet presumably had no need to include archaic coloring in the speeches of his heroes. [ 8 ] In other words, although we see Mycenaean memories in the narrative of Iliadic fighting, there is no comparable body of material for the poet to recall when reporting what Agamemnon, Odysseus, or Achilles says. Composition is less subject to tradition here. Speech is qualitatively different; unlike diegesis, it is the arena for pure mimesis.

How different is this mimesis, the speeches of the Iliad ? If its performance was actually of a different sort from that of the narrative portions, we get no indication in the text. Yet a performance distinction might well have existed: certainly rhapsodic performance, as we see from Plato’s Ion , indicates that the heroes’ speeches were acted out {45|46} in voice and character, like dramatic roles. Comparative evidence from the Kirghiz epics is also in favor of such a distinction: Radlov reported in the nineteenth century that the Central Asian bards shift to a slow-paced, aria-like performance when they come to the spoken parts in their compositions. [ 9 ]

It has long been recognized that Homeric speeches represent a unique area for research. Yet a suitable theoretical framework for analyzing them has not come readily to hand. Part of the problem lies in the sheer number of speeches: it has been estimated that nearly half of the Iliad is composed of direct speech, and slightly more of the Odyssey. In the former poem, there are approximately six hundred “speeches.” The term “speech” itself poses problems, since there is no uniform Greek designation for these instances of direct discourse, and the English equivalent carries associations with formal rhetoric that may not lie behind the poetic intent of the original. The scholarship on Homeric direct discourse, influenced by the entire rhetorical tradition of post-Homeric Greece, has neglected this fundamental distinction; it has not occurred to investigators that perhaps not all Homeric speeches are at the same level of importance. Consequently, the few thoroughgoing attempts by philologists to construct a typology of Homeric speeches have bogged down in constructing categories for every type of direct discourse found in the poem. At best—as in the sadly neglected work of Fingerle—this ambition results in dense lists of pragmatic information about speeches in the poems, detailing where they are spoken, when, and by whom, with little or no analysis of the actual content or poetic intent of the speech itself. Joachim Latacz has pointed out that this tendency vitiates even the most recent attempt at a typology of Iliadic discourse by Lohmann. [ 10 ]

Starting from a semantic field examination, we have seen that in fact a means exists for distinguishing more and less important speech-acts in the poetry of Homer. As I have shown in the previous chapter, the word muthos denotes an authoritative speech-act, as contrasted with the unmarked term epos , which designates any utterance. [ 11 ] “Winged words,” I contend, act as a periphrasis for a certain class of speech-acts named “directives” in speech-act theory. In this chapter, I {46|47} intend to use the “native” distinction thus outlined to construct a workable typology of Homeric speech-genres. The task is made easier than that faced by earlier philologists, because the number of speeches labeled muthoi is, at most, only one-sixth of the total number of direct discourses in the Iliad . When we consider this restricted number of significant speeches, with attention to the actual turns of phrase and rhetorical strategy involved in each discourse, the goal of reaching a poetics of Homeric speechmaking is not so distant. I cannot claim to have completed this task here. But from my investigation so far, surprising new angles of vision on the poem as a whole emerge. Not least among these is the realization that the heroes and gods of the Iliad engage in only three types of muthos discourses: commands, boast-and-insult contests (which I term “flyting”); and the recitation of remembered events. All three types are essentially “performances” both in a speech-act sense—insasmuch as the discourse itself of commanding, insulting, and recalling “does” something—and in a wider, social-poetic sense. For the speakers of muthos commit themselves to a full enactment of their words before an audience that can criticize these acts; they thus accomplish “performances” of verbal art, in a manner not different from that of poets and storytellers immersed in the performance situation. These “performances” embedded in the poem can in fact tell us more about the parameters of the Iliad ‘s own performance, I believe, especially as it will be seen that the genres of “command” and “flyting” are ordered hierarchically beneath the third genre, that of the performance of memory: all important verbal art within the poem, as done by the poem’s speakers, depends on the creative manipulation of this ultimate genre, which matches the poet’s medium. [ 12 ]

The Authoritative Word: Commands

It is best to start with the gods. A sociolinguist mapping the lines of authoritative speech by charting the movement of commands among the Olympian gods might well conclude that the gods in their interactions with humans and with one another function as an archaic Mediterranean family. The father is never commanded to do anything. A closer look shows that the distribution of the word muthos mirrors the power situation exactly. In the range and frequency of the muthoi {47|48} attributed to him, Zeus emerges as the source of all authority in the poem: he directs such speeches to six different addressees, eight times in all, more than any other speaker divine or human. Thus the mimetic portion of the Iliad ‘s narrative parallels the diegetic, which emphasizes Zeus’ supreme control, from the fifth line of the poem: “… and the will of Zeus was being accomplished.” [ 13 ] Zeus takes orders from no one; we know this from the poem’s plot. In accord with this, no speaker addresses a muthos of command to him. We have immediate confirmation that the word designates socially meaningful speech.

We discover by tracing the term that immediately below Zeus in authority rank Hera and Poseidon, his wife and his brother, both of whom are commanded by one other speaker (Hera by Zeus, Poseidon by Hera), but they also command several others, and furthermore, speak a muthos to the assembled gods, a privilege exclusive to them and Zeus. One step further down on the ladder of authority are Athena and Hermes, who play the role of children, not issuing muthos commands to other gods at all, although the daughter Athena (yet not the son Hermes) does receive such commands from her “parents” Zeus and Hera.

As if to compensate for their lack of speechmaking power among the gods, Hermes and Athena speak to men using muthoi of command. Now the frequent intervention of divinity in human affairs in this poem might lull us into thinking that they routinely give such commands to men; but, on closer inspection, this appears to be quite rare: the brothers Zeus and Poseidon are the only other gods to speak muthoi to men, and even then, Zeus does so indirectly, by means of Dream (to Agamemnon, 2.16) and through Iris (to Hektor, 11.186). Poseidon’s social position as male “outside” the house seems to put him in a status resembling Athena’s, with both taking orders from Hera. He appears, with Athena, in human guise, to encourage Achilles as he battles the river Skamandros (21.285-87). Their restricted sphere of influence in the muthoi contests of the immortals makes more ironic their words to the hero: “Son of Peleus, do not too much shirk or fear. For we are such allies for you, we two of the gods, with the approval of Zeus, I and Pallas Athena. ” Even in claiming that he and Athena are powerful helpers, Poseidon must bow to Zeus’ verbal precedence, embodied in his “approval” ( epainēsantos ). {48|49}

From this perspective, which we reach through tracing the distribution of the word muthos , Athena’s command (labeled with the term) to Achilles in Book 1 appears to be less the unfettered directive of a beneficent goddess and more a bargain struck among equals. The phrase used by Poseidon to Achilles in 21.293, “if you will obey,” takes on a new resonance here (1.207). Is it possible that Achilles, himself an authoritative speaker, might not listen to such a low-status divinity? After all, as Athena herself makes clear, she is merely the messenger of Hera; her rhetorical strategy relies on this higher authority (1.207-9): “I came to stop your strength, if you will obey, from the sky. Hera, goddess with white arms, sent me forth, feeling kindly and caring for both in her thumos . ” Note that Athena’s pronoun use slips into an authoritative plural at line 214, “obey us.” This phrase, raising the issue of persuasion again after only six lines, characterizes Athena’s lack of authority. The daughter of Zeus actually is portrayed through Homer’s phrasing as more like messengers of her father. Notice the similarities between this theophany and the messenger-arrival motif: a reason for coming is stated; the authority of the sender is cited; motivation and new information is given. [ 14 ] Athena announces the motivation of Hera in the manner that Dream describes Zeus’ motives in the next book (2.26-27): “I am the messenger of Zeus, who from afar cares greatly for you and has pity.” [ 15 ] If we regard Athena in this light, Achilles’ reply to her muthos sounds more relevant to the situation. For, in commenting on the superior nature of obedience to the gods (1.217-18), he alludes obliquely to his bargain with Athena. He signals to her that he realizes her dilemma and will contribute to boosting her status by deigning to obey now, at the price of being listened to later. The brief scene proceeds as if Achilles were the one demanding submission.

At first sight, Hermes seems different. Unlike Athena, he is never commanded with an explicit muthos by any other god. But far from being a freely acting agent, the god of communication functions when enacting his sole muthos of command as another emissary from Zeus. Speaking to Priam in the Achaean camp after Hektor’s ransom, he takes the pose that Dream assumed in an earlier message scene. Compare 24.682, “He stood over his head and spoke a muthos ,” with 2.20, “He stood over his head looking like Nestor.” There are other {50} ironies in the presentation of Hermes’ command. It is introduced with the same “while others slept” motif as was Zeus’ decision to send Dream (cf. 2.1-4 and 24.677-81); but whereas Zeus plots the generating device for the entire poem, Hermes merely plans the logistics of Priam’s exit. Zeus’ decision and its execution occupies thirty-five lines, Hermes’ a dozen; Zeus can order Dream to repeat his commands, while Hermes must do his own work. Finally, Priam’s curtly described consent—”The old man feared and made the herald stand up” (24.689)—surely reminds an audience of the fuller formula, “the old man feared and obeyed the muthos ,” which has been significantly used twice before, once shortly before this scene (24.571 = 1.33). The conspicuous absence here draws attention to Hermes’ lack of persuasive power; he is at the margin of powerful speech, as that is represented by Homer through the deployment of muthos commands.

What I have just described illustrates a basic principle of Homeric poetics; for performance time—the number of lines allotted to a given speech—is the single most important narrative “sign” in Homer’s system for marking the status of a hero or god. (We might contrast this with Athenian drama, which provides equal and even greater space to speeches by low-status characters—nurses, messengers, watchmen.) The portrayal of Achilles offers us the greatest example of this principle. For the moment, however, let me observe that the narrator’s granting of the “floor” to speakers in the poem is consistent with status: at a level of social status even lower than that of Athena and Hermes among the gods, the divinities Kharis and Iris, working on their own, give muthos commands that are the shortest of any such speeches (18.391-92, 23.204-11). The latter speech shows the features common to low-status behavior elsewhere. Iris, a metangelos , is careful to announce her sender’s demands (Achilles’ prayer for the winds to come); she uses an indirect directive, simply stating what Achilles wants and never using an imperative. The effect, like that of Athena’s epiphany in Book 1, is to increase the status of Achilles’ own speech. We should note that both scenes in which the minor goddesses give muthos commands are significant transition points in the narrative, yet they are not therefore given more consideration. Status and speech style override narrative needs. Meanwhile, Zeus’ words, even when they simply set up plot changes (e.g. 2.7-15) always merit fuller descriptive room.

In other ways, Zeus as characterized by muthos commands stands {50|51} supreme. Only he gives orders through intermediaries and only he can justify his ultimate authority among the other Olympians, although the challenging of this role by the others forms an important subplot to the poem. Zeus is above all the perfect rhetorician. His muthoi are precisely adjusted to his audience and, more remarkable, tend to vary in length depending on the distance they must travel, as if to compensate with increased detail for the greater potential of faulty transmission inherent in mediated messages. Amplification of the message size is the poetic equivalent of amplified volume in sound: that this is a quality peculiar to Zeus is well expressed in his epithet euruopa , “wide-voiced.” [ 16 ]

The three mediated commands of Zeus called muthoi occur at crucial moments in the Iliad ‘s first half. All relate directly to the promise Zeus made to Thetis. Early in Book 2, the counsel of Zeus for fulfilling the plan to honor Achilles takes the form of a message from “baleful Dream” telling Agamemnon to arm for battle. The nature of this message is marked by the formula “winged words,” which, as we saw, introduces a directive, as also by the word Zeus uses to send the message “I order” (2.10). In clipped phrases, Zeus specifies a number of things: the exact destination (Agamemnon’s tent), the speed with which the arming is to be done, and an explanation (note the triple gar of lines 2.12-14). Agamemnon, he says, can now take Troy, since the Olympians, influenced by Hera’s entreaties, have reached accord. Is it not significant that, when Zeus speaks with what seems greatest accuracy, he is in fact contradicting what the audience knows? For we witnessed only one scene earlier complete discord. Zeus speaks ironically in saying that Hera “bent” all the gods to her will ( epegnampsen hapantas , 2.14), for, in the earlier scene, this rare verb described Hera’s fearful submission to the will of Zeus ( epignampsasa philon kēr 1.569). We shall see Diomedes and Glaukos use the same strategy of creative rearrangement later. Here, as if to mark Zeus’ deception all the more, Dream becomes creative on his own and modifies the message so as to persuade his audience of his impersonation. Zeus’ command does not include the line (2.24) “A counsel-bearing man must not sleep all night”; but this sort of gnomic utterance perfectly fits the character of Nestor, whose form the Dream has taken. Nestor himself is portrayed, in a small detail, as nearly calling Zeus’ bluff when Agamemnon finally reports his {51|52} dream: “If anyone else had told us this dream, we would call it a lie and turn away instead. But now the one who claims to be best of the Achaeans saw it” (2.80-83). The logical conclusion is never stated, and indeed Nestor never asserts that Agamemnon is right, only that he has more authority. We may well imagine that Dream’s persuasive disguise—as Nestor—restrains the self-regarding elder hero from dismissing the message entirely. Zeus’ authority, higher than Agamemnon’s, has been deconstructed neatly within the first few lines of this book when Homer demonstrates that muthos speech does not require truth so much as an effective representation.

It is particularly characteristic of Zeus’ commands that they combine several types of speech-act. In his commands, through Iris, to Hera and Athena (8.399-408) and Hektor (11.186), directives blend with explicit promises or threats. He orders Iris to tell Hektor to retreat a short way (11.189), then promises killing strength to the hero (11.192). Athena and Hera are told to turn back; if they do not, Zeus will lame their horses, cast them out, and wreck the chariot (8.402-3). In the chief divinity Homer draws a character whose speech-acts are consistent. As Searle observes, in certain speech-acts—statements, assertions, and explanations—the speaker makes his language describe his situation, producing a “word-to-world” fit. [ 17 ] Requests, commands, vows, and promises, on the other hand, involve the speaker in shaping the world to his own word: Zeus’ muthoi fall in the latter group.

One problem appears to arise in the framing of Zeus’ commands here. The words of Iris to Hera and Athena are described as a threat ( ēpeilēse , 8.415), but have been introduced by Zeus with a line appropriate to a prediction (401, “Thus I will speak out and it will be completed”). Similarly, Zeus’ promise to Hektor at 11.191-94 contains elements of prediction: the strength will come “when struck by spear or hit by arrow he leaps to his horse.” Since in speech-act theory predictions are “constatives,” and commands are directives, this correlation in Zeus’ rhetoric appears puzzling at first. Is this a confusion of word to world and vice versa? Is Homer nodding? [ 18 ]

In human terms, yes, this is confusion. But Zeus’ language of gods transcends human speech categories. Searle’s remarks on the class of declaratives can help clarify the poetry here. Most declaratives—”I {52|53} find you guilty,” “I thee wed,” and so on—require that we assume the authority of an extra linguistic institution acting through the speaker. But a few escape this requirement. Individuals acting alone can declare the name for something, just as parents determine what a child is to be called in many cultures. Divinity exercises this right over everything in the world: as Searle notes: “When God says, ‘Let there be light,’ that is a declaration.” [ 19 ] In other words, in the language of Zeus, commands, threats, and predictions comprise one and the same category. It is this very use of language that makes Zeus supreme. Although humans must prove in the field their boasts and threats, the mere speaking of a threat by Zeus is effective, the equivalent of action. Homeric poetry respects this mystery of divine speech, at the same time that it surrounds the speech of gods with a clamor of competing words. As we shall see shortly, the primacy of Zeus’ divine speech is threatened by the speech-acts of heroes and by the rival demands of his “family.” These touches of realism, showing that even divine speech is subject to human limits, find vivid correlates in the narrative, which seems at times to circumvent the language of Zeus. Hektor, for example, does not receive strength to reach the ships on the day that Zeus promised. [ 20 ] His surge occurs later; the time-frame of divine speech thus differs radically from that of its divine addressees.

Because Zeus is set beyond the time and distance limits of humanity, his muthos speeches show an amount of verbal detail unparalleled in heroic discourse. The threat to Athena and Hera (8.399-408) lists the amount of damage Zeus intends; his promise at 11.186-94 specifies exactly the point at which power will be granted. Furthermore, at the conclusions of both commands, Zeus sets exact limitations on the action of the threat and promise. Hera he will not berate as much as Athena, seeing that she is an inveterate adversary. Hektor he will allow to win, but only until he reaches the Achaean ships (11.193-94). Zeus’ power to command, then, is matched by his power to create nuance and give verbal texture to his directives. This shows in the amplitude of his rhetoric, achieved by repetition and synonymity: “Turn back and do not allow them onward” (8.399); “I will throw them from the chariot box and break the chariot” (403); “I do not blame Hera so much nor am I angry” (407). It is the accumulation of {53|54} such parallel expressions rather than the mere single occurrence of this admittedly common Homeric syntactic pattern, that causes Zeus’ speech to stand out. Exaggeration is another form of the same urge for amplitude: Zeus’ boasts that it takes ten years to heal the wounds from his bolt (8.405) depend on a rhetoric of space and distance that only the most important speakers in the Iliad are privileged to use. As we shall see, Nestor, Agamemnon, and Achilles all have stylistic habits that echo those of Zeus; no one hero manages his entire repertoire (although Achilles comes closest).

The declarations that Zeus addresses to all the Olympians at the beginning of Book 8 can best illustrate all the characteristics of his muthos speech in the poem. This speech represents the ideal of the genre of commands. It shares with all muthoi , of command or other genres, a concentration on the act to be performed by words. As with other muthoi , the speech thus labeled is subject to public scrutiny before an audience. It is a performance, thus, in a second sense as well as in a speech-act view. As do other muthoi we have seen, it reaches for length and elaboration as an emblem of authoritative, important communication; it asserts the status of the speaker.

As we have come to expect, Zeus’ speech outdoes other muthoi by exaggeration. The rhetorical distancing accomplished by Zeus at 8.5— 27 finds expression in a powerful image that he chooses to boast of his status. Threatening to hurl to Tartaros any who disobey, he backs up his words by picturing the massed Olympians tugging at him by a golden chain: though he might yank them up, together with earth and sea, the gods who hear him could not pull him down. In turning the horizontal line of the actual communication among presumed equals into a vertical chain by this symbolic rhetoric, Zeus enacts the gods’ dependence on him and dramatizes his own rhetorical ability— the power of making convincing images—at the same time that he solidifies his political position. He is a master at the poetics of power. The muthos of what “might” happen is actually a projection of the current power configuration on Olympus. [ 21 ] It functions like “myth” in the wider sense that students of Greek society have come to recognize: a politically important act of symbolic discourse. [ 22 ] As I suggested in the previous chapter, the later extension of the word muthos to imaginative traditional narratives can be traced to an earlier {55} use in which it designated such authoritative speech-acts as that of Zeus in this passage. The best muthoi in this original sense would naturally involve the most powerful images, often resorting to genealogical recitation and claims about past status. It is only when such rhetoric is cut loose from its context of “political” antagonism that it takes on the appearance of harmless and pleasant fiction.

Before we turn to the anatomy of the struggle between Zeus and others over the right to speak with authority, one other feature of this important speech in Book 8 bears examining. It is characteristic of the greatest speakers in the poem that their muthoi often have a self-referential focus on the very act of speaking. Zeus, in prohibiting the gods from supporting the fighters in either side of the plain at Troy, verbally frames the linguistic situation on Olympus as a struggle by two sides, one in which his rivals wish to “cut” his utterance ( diakersai emon epos ), as if it resembled the chain that he mentions later in the speech. Along with the legalistically full prohibition, “Let neither female divinity nor male attempt to cut my word,” Zeus introduces a positive injunction: “But all together praise ( aineit ‘), so that I complete these deeds as quickly as possible” (8.7-9). This command, too, dwells on a verbal notion. If taken as parallel to the later imperative, “Come and attempt” (18), the order to “praise” makes more sense: Zeus highlights the physical superiority that underlies his authority; although joined paratactically, the first imperative expresses a thought actually subordinate to the second. In the image of the chain, then, are contained two views of communication. To “cut” Zeus’ word signifies an intolerable breakdown of relation, but to struggle with him is to provide a public acknowledgment of the “highest deviser’s” craft (8.22). Even the loss by the other gods in this divine tug-of-war becomes a kind of praise. We are reminded of the way in which the Funeral Games of Book 23 defuse conflict by providing a public ranking of Achaean competitors to produce a greater solidarity. It is not accidental that Zeus oversees this “contest” in Book 8, while Achilles, speaking at least five muthos commands, oversees the Games.

The critical need for the approval of Zeus’ Olympian audience, the “praise” alluded to at 8.9, shows most clearly how an oral culture’s notions of performance structure the distribution of power. In effect, only an acceptable “performance” of a proposal can enable the speaker to accomplish his will; only a counter performance, the actual voicing of “praise,” certifies the audience’s consent. It is explicitly during {55|56} a muthos performance that the other gods on several occasions express dissent by withholding praise. The formulaic line “Act, but we other gods will not all approve” ( epaineomen ) occurs three times (4.29, 16.443, 22.181). In each case, it marks those moments in the Iliad when the speaker, Zeus, has just suggested that the lives be saved. On two of these occasions, Hera identifies the proposal made by Zeus as a muthos , prefacing her reply to him with another formulaic line, “O most dread ( ainotate ) son of Kronos, what sort of muthos have you said?” (4.25 = 16.440). The third time, Zeus’ speech is introduced as the initial muthos in an exchange, with yet another formula (22.167): “To them Zeus father of men and gods began the muthoi .” In each case, the threat of implied public blame among the other gods seems to force Zeus to yield. We feel, however, that he is prepared for the outcome. For the three muthoi of Zeus which seek approval for his plan to intervene in the destinies of heroes are in complete contrast with the muthos he made in Book 8 when prohibiting the other gods from meddling. There, we saw him use the rhetoric of force. But when plotting something he knows to be contrary to the will of Athena and Hera, Zeus portrays himself as incapable of command, undecided as to which course to take. Such acting by Zeus can be taken as directive. It differs from more straightforward commands only in that the performer has already judged the outcome and adjusted his rhetoric accordingly. His proposal to stop the war in Book 4 is sheathed in neutral, unemphatic, and brief observations: Menelaos has two helpers, it seems; Aphrodite has saved one who thought he would die; victory belongs to Menelaos (4.7—12). Even when making an explicit proposal, Zeus phrases it in a gracious hortatory subjunctive (4.14, phrazōmetha ). He offers alternatives as well: either to raise war or strike a peace. The audience is politely taken into consideration: “… if this might somehow be dear and sweet to all”(4.17).

In Book 16, Zeus again poses alternatives, dramatizing his doubts about whether to whisk Sarpedon off to Lykia or let him die at Troy. Instead of commands, we hear from Zeus now the language of lament, reinforced by the sound pattern of the lines, a repeated cry of grief (16.433-35):

ὤ μ οι ἐγών, ὅ tέ μ οι Σαρπηδόνα, φίλτατον ἀνδρών, μ ο͂ι ρ’ ὑπό Πατρόκλ οιο Μεν οι τιάδαο δαμῆναι. διχθὰ δέ μ οι κραδίη μέμονε φρεσὶν ὁρμ αί νοντι. {56|57}

In the third passage where Zeus is deterred by the threat of blame from the gods, he reverts to a cooler rhetoric, calling Hektor merely “dear” (contrast Sarpedon as “most dear”). The possibility of saving Hektor is suggested in more rational language of exchange: Zeus’ grief arises not from a familial bond with the hero but because Hektor was a good provider of sacrificial offerings (22.170-72). As in Zeus’ muthos in Book 4, constative acts cushion the more emotional language (cf. 168, “a dear man is pursued,” and 172, “Achilles pursues him”). Even though Zeus uses imperatives this time (cf. 22.174 and 4.14), his suggestion is once more put as a choice, to save or crush Hektor.

In sum, Zeus represents the ideally powerful speaker of muthos commands, but even he cannot escape the demands of his audience of gods. Although the other gods do not range as far in their few examples of muthoi of command, their capacity to withhold praise inhibits Zeus’ performance.

The function of Hera in the Iliad has largely to do with the affirmation (by contest) of Zeus’ power to issue muthoi . As the divinity who speaks the next greatest number of such speeches, after Zeus, she seems a natural challenger to his status. [ 23 ] The divine couple engage in verbal agonistics from the row over Zeus’ interview with Thetis in Book 1 to the quarrel over the ransoming of Hektor in Book 24. We should recognize that this is posed explicitly in terms of muthoi . To Hera’s needling questions in Book 1, Zeus retorts, “Do not expect to know all my muthoi ” (1.545). In context, the term appears to be synonymous with decisions (cf. boulas , 540). But the verbal quality of these counsels is alluded to in Zeus’ promise that Hera will hear whatever thing is appropriate for her. Zeus’ command is in turn identified as a muthos itself by Hera as she yields (552). Her concession nevertheless insinuates that Zeus has been bested at rhetoric by {57|58} Thetis (555): “Now I terribly fear in my mind that silver-footed Thetis, the daughter of the old man of the sea, may sway you ( pareipēi ).” This prompts Zeus to reassert his verbal powers, and he insists that Hera obey his muthos (565). The remaining verses enact the power of his word, as Hera sits silent, succumbing to suasive speech by her son Hephaistos ( paraphēmi , 577). Although the goddess does not completely follow her son’s advice to use soft words to Zeus, the poet intervenes to drown out the verbal dueling with a higher language, in the responsive voices of the Muses led by Apollo (602-4).

The matching scene at the end of the poem shows that Apollo’s capacity as harmonizer is found lacking. Hera exposes Apollo’s perfidy, by oblique reference to his earlier attendance and performance at the wedding of Peleus and Thetis (24.61-63), at which, the tradition says, he foretold a glorious future life for their son. Thus, his proposal to steal Hektor’s corpse away from Achilles is undercut effectively. Apolline music being discredited, only the word of Zeus is able to solve the neikos besetting the gods (24.107). The initial cause that has led to this strife has been foregrounded by Homer at the beginning of Book 24 in such a way that we surely must be meant to see the juxtaposition. Human blame has tainted the gods: Paris “blamed” ( neikesse , 29) goddesses (we are not told which) but “praised” ( ēinēs ‘ aorist tense of aineō ) the one goddess who gave him “lust” ( makhlosunē ). [ 24 ] Zeus resolves the present conflict by an affirmation of inequality: Achilles and Hektor will not be given the same honor rating ( timē , 66). As we shall see in the next chapter, the recognition of an inequality of styles goes along with heroic striving to speak well in the Iliad . Zeus’ divine rhetoric shows itself fully in the next speech he makes, a muthos (24.104) to Thetis. The subservience of the other Olympians emerges in details that contrast with the scene in Book 1. Hera serves Thetis now, instead of being a distant dissenter (contrast Hephaistos’ service to her at 1.585-94). Zeus begins gently, recalling Thetis’ anguish, something he himself knows (105)— presumably from seeing Sarpedon killed, although the poet does not state this. If we have been prepared by Homer to accept Zeus’ sympathy as authentic, we have also been privileged to hear his earlier motives for summoning Thetis: he cannot let Hermes steal the corpse because the nymph is night and day beside her son (24.71—73), so he {58|59} must convince her to persuade Achilles. When Zeus faces Thetis, he explains his motives much differently: “They urge the keen-sighted slayer of Argos to steal, but I grant this glory to Achilles, keeping safe your respect and affection in later time” (24.109-10). We are left wondering which version is more like the truth. Who is being kept in the dark, Hera or Thetis? Given the theme of the contest for speech mastery between Hera and Zeus, I would like to think that he has led her on here. In any event, through the depiction of muthos speeches among the gods Homer illustrates for his audience the role of politic fiction in the poetics of power. This is a paradigm for heroic rhetoric, too.

Heroic Commands

On the battlefield, the performance of muthos commands follows the Olympian pattern in exhibiting a hierarchy of performers, and a frankly antagonistic relationship among peers, especially at the top echelon. Those with the highest status, like Zeus, direct and enact muthoi to the largest audiences, all Trojans or Achaeans. The praise of the group, an important mark of approval, is reserved for the leading speakers in the contest of command. Whereas “praise” arose as a topic among the Olympians most often when there was a threat to withhold it from Zeus, in Homer’s depiction of the Achaean camp, this subject of group approbation is described positively. Three times the poet says that the Achaeans “approve” a speech: when Odysseus urges the troops to remain at Troy (2.284-332; cf. 335, muthon epainēsantes ); when Agamemnon declares that his brother won the duel with Paris (3.455-60; cf. 461, epi d’ēneon alloi ); and when Achilles awards a special prize to Eumelos, loser of the chariot race (23.539, epēineon ). The audience ratification of their proposals defines the triad of the Iliad’s most important speakers—with the exception of Nestor. While Agamemnon, Odysseus, and Achilles jockey for position, Nestor remains unchallenged as a commander. As with Zeus on Olympus, he directs the greatest number of muthoi to others, but is himself never the recipient of such commands. A further mark of his status appears when we consider the addressees of the muthoi . Whereas Agamemnon gives muthos commands to Menelaos, Khryses, and Teucer (three figures with lower status in the poem), Nestor in this hierarchy commands Agamemnon, and moreover, can enact a muthos {59|60} before all the Achaeans. Agamemnon never does this. Achilles repeatedly does, at the Funeral Games. Odysseus only commands a segment of the Achaean audience one time with a muthos , the men of the dēmos (2.199), and once the entire group (2.282). This depiction in which status coincides with the number of persons able to be successfully addressed must reflect a social context in which political power is chiefly a product of oratorical power. We should also observe that the small group of speakers who address muthoi to the aggregate can further be divided on the basis of the speaker’s interaction with divinity. Achilles, among the Greeks, and Priam on the Trojan side are the only speakers who both make a muthos command to the group and receive such a command from a god or goddess. To express the significance of this deployment in another way: one who commands the group with muthoi need not be on speaking terms with the gods, but those who do have such encounters in the poem are also depicted as being able to address the group. Again, Homer or his tradition acknowledges indirectly the special character of deific speech. [ 25 ]

From the distinctions just outlined, we might expect the commands of Nestor to be distinguished from those of the younger Achaeans. They are prominent in the flow of the narrative: five of his six muthoi of command occur between Books 9 and 11, the poem’s core, and all mark significant junctures. His first such speech in the poem stands out, though brief, because Agamemnon grants Nestor instant obedience (2.434-41). In light of our observation that muthos commanders have a channel to the divine, it is interesting that Nestor’s explicit motivation for telling Agamemnon to advance the troops is that “a god grants” the present work (436). The audience should recall that the “god” is Zeus, whose messenger, Dream, took the form of Nestor in appearing to Agamemnon (2.21). The old hero, then, is both the distant and immediate catalyst for the assault, and his muthos (2.433) depends on the muthos of Zeus (2.16).

This function of Nestor to regulate the pace of the plot appears clearly in the other muthos speeches he makes. In his first speech in Book 9, he can control three segments of an audience at once: Diomedes, whom he instructs in the art of speech; the kouroi whom he orders to take guard duty; and finally Agamemnon. Again, there is {60|61} some irony. Nestor commands Agamemnon to give orders, “for you are most kingly” (9.69), a status clearly cast in doubt by the old hero’s leading position. His elaborate praise of Agamemnon here (73-75) in a triplex polyptoton is, of course, self-serving, too, as Nestor is undoubtedly the nameless “one who plans the best counsel” whom Agamemnon is said to obey. Similar cueing of Agamemnon occurs in Nestor’s second muthos in this book. After cautiously praising the proposed gifts for Achilles (164), Nestor pointedly proceeds to stage-manage the embassy details. Praise and control—the Nestorian strategy—continue through Book 10, in which Nestor regularly upstages the younger hero by directing the guards and proposing the night mission to spy on the Trojan camp (10.203-17). We should contrast the offer whereby Nestor attracts volunteers for this exploit. Unlike Agamemnon’s faulty promise of gifts alone, in the preceding book, Nestor’s proposition explicitly involves the winning of kleos . Economic gain ( dosis , 213) is just part of the bargain.

Even in his long reminiscence during his final muthos of command, Nestor depicts himself as an authority. Not only does he frame the speech to Patroklos on the basis of his own biography, but within the speech he alludes to a previous rhetorical success on his part—the original recruitment of Patroklos and Achilles for the war. There are signs of agonistic speaking in this remembrance. Although Odysseus was also present in Phthia that day, it was Nestor (so he says) who “began the muthos ” (11.781). The formulaic variation here, to the rarer use of the singular of the word for speech, might imply that Nestor’s performance did not face any counter speeches. We are also reminded by this detail that Odysseus, who had begun the embassy speeches in Book 9, failed. Phoinix, who resembles Nestor, would have made the better opening speech, and may have been intended to do so (9.223—Ajax nods to him). The parallel is strengthened by the resemblance between the scene in Phthia that Nestor recalls and that which has just occurred in the tent of Achilles.

We may well think that Nestor constructs these resemblances for persuasive purposes. It is only with effort that we remember that Homer in this scene mimes Nestor as making up a speech—not necessarily recounting “what happened. ” So we should place more emphasis on the differences between the words that he recalls Peleus saying to Achilles (to “excel and be best,” 11.783-84) and Odysseus’ recollection in a similar rhetorical gambit (Peleus tells Achilles to avoid strife with his peers, 9.254-58). Nestor selects the one detail {61|62} from the alleged “instructions” of Peleus that will contrast most with his own recapitulation of another speech of advice, that made by Patroklos’ father, suggesting the companion of Achilles should instruct and guide him (11.786-90). In brief, the older man uses his muthos to praise Patroklos, thereby constructing an image of the role he is supposed to play. As with Zeus’ speeches to Hera and Thetis in Book 24, Homer here has supplied enough detail to make us appreciate the possibilities for fictional presentation within authoritative speechmaking.

It helps that Nestor’s age makes him an appropriate stand-in for Menoitios, so that this speech is truly a “performance” by a seasoned actor. His advice to Patroklos is described in the same terms as Menoitios’ instructions (compare 11.783 and 785, epetelle with the same verb in 840, used by Patroklos). This fatherly instruction is meant to replicate itself when Patroklos next returns to Achilles. But Patroklos improvises his performance rather than copying Nestor’s. Instead of reminding Achilles about Peleus, he denies the hero’s parentage (16.33-35) and weeps ominously “like a black-watered stream.” In the poet’s image system, the performance of Patroklos thus resembles that of the Iliad ‘s weakest rhetorician, Agamemnon, the only other speaker who resorts to such an act (16.3-4 = 9-14-15)·

So far we have seen that the distribution of muthos speeches among heroic speakers accurately predicts their success at persuasion within the poem. In what follows, I want to explore the distinctions in the power relations thus sketched. This is not a formal poetics, since it will be seen that the seemingly simple act of issuing a command becomes so variable as to resist reduction to a schema. Questions of individual style arise, which in turn are inseparable from notions of the proper convention for commanding or enacting other types of speech-act. If we keep in mind the example of Zeus—in which long, detailed, and self-assertive rhetoric represents the best command form—it soon appears that only one Iliadic speaker comes closest to this ideal, Achilles. Other commands bear a kind of family resemblance one to the other, and offer less noticeable similarities to divine speech.

We can gauge the distance between Nestor, Agamemnon, and the others in several ways. In terms of the narrative progression, Agamemnon drops out of sight as a source of muthos commands by Book 14. Odysseus appears in this role up to Book 19, at which point we see Agamemnon deferring to his judgment. As Agamemnon’s speaking power wanes, Achilles’ waxes: it is he who gives the muthos {61|63} commands on the Achaean side all through the last two books of the Iliad . Thus, the control of authoritative speech passes like the Achaean scepter from the “owner,” Agamemnon, to his young competitor.

A second gauge of difference comes in the rhetorical form and effectiveness of commands. Here, the same hierarchy is reaffirmed. Agamemnon is less powerful as a speaker than Odysseus, and he, in turn, must defer to Achilles. We shall see the differences on the level of individual stylistic choices in the next chapter. But some of the broader signs of these distinctions should be noted here. An important preliminary strike against Agamemnon comes in the detail that tells us he speaks against the wishes of his audience: “The other Achaeans all approved . . . but it did not please Agamemnon” (1.23-24). His threat to Khryses, that the skēptron of the god will not do him any good should he return, turns out to have ironic appropriateness for himself, when his authority sinks. In contrast to Zeus, whose similar threat silences Hera at the end of Book 1 (1.566), Agamemnon’s language works destruction, turning the priest to seek divine intervention with deadly effect. Like the fault of Paris in blaming the goddesses, Agamemnon’s improper speech-act has disastrous consequences.

Another sign of Agamemnon’s rhetorical ineffectiveness comes in his dialogue with Menelaos in Book 10. His brother has not even been commanded, yet comes (10.25) with as much sympathy as Agamemnon for the Argive sufferings, only to find that Agamemnon himself is ceding authority to Nestor over the guards, “for they might obey him most.” In this context, the muthos that Agamemnon makes to Menelaos shrinks in consequence. In fact, Menelaos has to elicit the command on his own, since Agamemnon has given no clear directions in his rambling talk (10.43-59). “How do you instruct and order me with a muthos ?” Menelaos asks. Agamemnon’s reply is a weak warning to stay in place lest the brothers lose one another in camp (65-71), and a suggestion to “glorify” the other commanders on waking them up—a rather obvious rhetorical strategy.

Finally, there is Agamemnon’s yielding to Odysseus’ criticism. “You very much reached my heart with your tough rebuke,” he tells him, after Odysseus has demolished Agamemnon’s graceless proposal to flee (14.105—5). Odysseus demands silence from him; Agamemnon’s only defense is another weak rhetorical excuse, that he was only fulfilling what his audience wanted (14.90, 105).

Odysseus, the speaker to whom control passes at this point, first {63|64} enters the spotlight as the enforcer of Agamemnon’s proposals. The introductory scene characterizes him already: whereas Agamemnon’s testing speech has stampeded the Achaeans, Odysseus’ speech (and battering) turn them back. If we are in doubt at this point, an additional speech by Odysseus further solidifies his reputation as the more powerful speaker. Athena herself restrains the audience so that he may speak the elaborate muthos at 2.284-332. We shall return to this masterpiece of recollection and dramatization later; note for now that the speech is artfully juxtaposed so as to diminish even the words of Nestor’s less ornate recounting that follows it (2.337-68). [ 26 ]

The other muthos commands by Odysseus in the poem feature significant variations on the injunctions of Agamemnon that they are supposedly supporting, so we see Odysseus as superior at rhetoric every time. The well-known omission by Odysseus of Agamemnon’s crass snub in the promise to Achilles (9.115-19) is just one sign of Odysseus’ skill. Another in the same speech is in the prefatory remarks which he did not take from Agamemnon. Just as he had recalled the divine sēma in his remembrance of Aulis in Book 2, to urge on the troops, he carefully points out the heavenly signs here (9.236-37—Zeus sends his bolt). The parallel between Achaean despair at Aulis and the present crisis also underlies, I suggest, the use of a unique phrase in line 232 of Odysseus’ speech to Achilles, “the Trojans have made a bivouac” ( aulin ethento Trōes ). His pun on the place-name can be read either as a message to Achilles by Odysseus or to the audience by Homer. In either case, the association of Aulis and the death of Iphigeneia (a tale suppressed in the Iliad ) should be read into the scene as well: yet again, someone near to Achilles must be sacrificed to heal Achaean helplessness. [ 27 ]

The final contest between the rivals Odysseus and Achilles takes place in Book 19. Agamemnon has yielded again, this time accepting Odysseus’ procedural suggestions for recompensing Achilles (19.185-86). But Odysseus’ subsequent elaborate speeches on the necessity of eating fail to move Achilles. Instead, he overcomes Odysseus by taking over his opponent’s rhetorical strategy while refusing to acknowledge his presence. Odysseus had spoken of hunger (19.155-83); so does Achilles, in a reply directed to Agamemnon ostensibly, but he turns it into a metaphor for his desire to avenge Patroklos’ {64|65} death. He rejects the simple twofold “food and drink” of Odysseus (161 versus 210) in favor of a more complex triad, “murder, blood, and the rough moan of men” (214). [ 28 ] When Odysseus attempts to overcome Achilles once more, this time by sheer authority (217-20), Achilles replies by rising into another level of performance. Instead of arguing, he refuses food outright, as if too much has yet to come out of his mouth—a poetic lament, in which even the texture of speech resembles song more than oratory, as can be seen from alliterations: [ 29 ]

Odysseus gives no more muthos orders after this performance by Achilles.

The Contested Word

We are led by the study of muthos as command to look at opposing speakers; this easily takes us into larger problems of characterization and theme in the poem. But I must stress another implication of the view of speech developed thus far in our analysis: the agonistic context still depends on a notion of speech as performance, and this, in turn, can be highly stylized. Rather than overemphasize the sociolinguistic realism of Homer, as a study of commands might tempt us to do, I suggest instead that we consider this genre to be a developed traditional form of social discourse. The two other genres of muthos speeches that I have uncovered are recognized poetic genres as well in both Greek and other traditions. This strengthens the suggestion that {65|66} “commands” constitute an equally conventional genre. Modern political oratory, seemingly wide-ranging and unbound by formal constraints, might make the proposition seem counterintuitive. But a study of traditional oratory can show how the act of giving orders and proposing directives deserves recognition as a separate formal genre (albeit rarely in a versified form). The work of Raymond Firth on oratory of the Tikopia in the western Pacific, and Anne Salmond’s studies of Maori oratory in New Zealand, demonstrate that the issuing of directives in public is a highly formalized verbal affair. [ 30 ] Learners of such traditional command discourse must memorize innumerable proverbs and genealogies to make their words effective. The formal nature of such directives is recognized in some cultures within the taxonomy of speech names. Rosaldo points out that the Ilongot consider tuydek , the command, to be “the exemplary act of speech,” because it organizes social life, being used by men in authority to control and tame women and children. [ 31 ] I submit that the Greek equivalent for “important speech of social control” is muthos .

The political nature of rhetoric within the Iliad deserves more recognition. [ 32 ] Homerists have concentrated more, however, on speech and persuasion in the poem as they relate to later oratory. [ 33 ] It has been noticed that a speaker’s success is measured in part by the degree of persuasion he or she elicits. I would add that this is not merely Homeric technique, but a social value to be seen in many cultures. “Among the Araucanians of Chile, the head of a band was its best orator and his power depended upon his ability to sway others through oratory,” notes Hymes. [ 34 ]

Although commands might seem less familiar as an institutionalized genre, the second category of muthos speeches, to which I turn now, should offer no such barrier. The work of Walter Ong, in particular Fighting for Life: Contest, Sexuality, and Consciousness , has drawn attention to the agonistic nature of discourse in oral-traditional societies, and to the remnants of this outlook in our own. [ 35 ] The formalized verbal contests of several contemporary cultures range from events enacted by adolescents on street corners, like the black {66|67} American genres of the “dozens” and “sounding,” to more organized events (Maltese, Sardinian, and Turkish verbal duels), to highly structured “bardic” duels, like those among Kirghiz and Kazakh poets. [ 36 ] Such dueling clearly has a number of social functions; for one, it is “the oral equivalent of ritual physical combat among males, formalized, serious, and bantering at the same time.” [ 37 ] Avoiding physical violence, the participants engage in gamelike moves, often running counter to the culture’s norms—lying, for example, may be expected in such situations. [ 38 ] Such activity can be described in speech-act terms with reference to the “rules of conversation” developed by H. P. Grice; “noncooperation counts as cooperation for the duration of the ritual.” [ 39 ] That is, telling more or less than one would in normal conversation, telling what one knows to be an untruth, and generally breaking the contract of social discourse are all permitted in such verbal contests.

The best performers in such contests, even if they never claim to be “poets,” are in fact, masters of verbal art. Herzfeld notes from his fieldwork that “often a clever riposte serves to restrain physical violence. To respond with knife or fist would demean the assailant by suggesting that he was incapable of responding with some witty line of his own.” [ 40 ] A similar high regard for subtlety is regularized within Haya speech terms: one phrase, “to hit inside,” characterizes the type of allusive verbal strategies used by members of one in-group to challenge and rebuke each other; another term, ebijumi , denotes direct verbal abuse—the less prestigious type hurled at commoners and children. This distinction is relevant to the representation, within the Iliad , of Thersites and other practitioners of abuse. In a more general way, the existence of such socially grounded genre conventions requires us to exercise more caution in criticizing speech within the poem. As we shall see, some instances of direct speech may have no plot-advancing function whatsoever, but appear so that an audience familiar with everyday speech-genres can evaluate a character qua speaker, finding significance where those outside the system would not. [ 41 ]

Agonistic speech within the Iliad has attracted more notice than has {67|68} “political” discourse of the type I examined in the last section. In terms of poetic diction, A. W. H. Adkins has observed that many types of agonistic talk in Homer—for example, threats, rebukes, insults, quarrels, and judicial proceedings—are categorized with the noun neikos and the verb neikeo . This classification, in Adkins’s view, relates to the similar role that all such speech plays in a shame- or “results-culture.” [ 42 ] More recently, Gregory Nagy has drawn attention to the thematic importance of the neikos within the Iliad ; in his view this type of discourse can be understood as a reflex of the poetic traditions of praise and blame that we see attested so frequently elsewhere in Greek poetry, and which have a good claim to be inherited Indo-European poetic genres. [ 43 ] Building on his convincing demonstration of the traditional poetic nature of the neikos, I shall suggest here that this also carries with it a set of rhetorical conventions in its enactment, as it does dictional conventions for the description of the activity within epic. Following a more general comparatist trend that would equate the genre of neikos with the depictions of similar verbal contests in Germanic traditional poetry, I use the term “flyting” (native to the Germanic genre) to refer to this phenomenon within the Iliad . I hope thereby to indicate that it shares features with other traditional contest genres, but also to avoid any counterargument based on whether or not neikos and related words actually appear in the epic to describe the scenes I discuss. The central point is that an audience would not necessarily require dictional sign-posting for the occurrence of this genre at every turn: at times the dispute language might be called neikos or “cutting words,” at other times it may be introduced, as I contend, simply as muthos , and again, it might even be unmarked completely, when the poet allows the dramatic setting of the speeches itself to cue the audience to the genre involved. [ 44 ]

The agonistic nature of muthoi has been clear to us as we examined the commands heroes make. A few narrative phrases also allude to this quality: as we saw in the last chapter, Thoas is described as a good speaker “whenever young men engage in strife ( erisseian ) concerning speech-acts ( muthoi )” (15.284-85). Not only are such muthoi the various proposals brought forward by potential commanders; they {68|69} are also the counterarguments that denigrate others’ commands; and one can “engage in strife” about them not only in terms of content, but, as we shall see, in the matter of their style. The difference between a muthos command and a flyting speech may at times be minimal, since every instance of the former, as we saw, even those by Zeus, is open to challenge. The two genres, then, complement one another.

Book 4 of the poem is a good place to begin observing the poetics of flyting. The “game” nature of the genre is nowhere more evident than in Agamemnon’s ritualized encouragement of the troops, called by later critics the epipōlēsis or “review.” His technique consists of verbal assault. It is most often described with the language of “blaming” (see forms of the verb neikeō at 4.241, 336, 359, 368). The key lines for my interpretation that this activity is part of the authoritative speech of muthos are 4.356-57: “Smiling at him {Odysseus} Agamemnon addressed him, as he knew of his anger, and took back the muthos .” The speech thus referred to on its retraction was labeled in line 336 with the verb neikessen . We can extrapolate from this co-occurrence that each speech Agamemnon makes in the episode is in fact an instantiation of muthos discourse. Another co-occurrence worth noting here: twice (337, 369) the introduction to Agamemnon’s speech couples the verb neikeō with the formula “he spoke winged words.” Since “winged words” are also a regular introduction to directives, this is further confirmation that flyting speeches represent a form of muthos .

Not only is the diction of the speech introductions standardized, but Agamemnon’s rhetorical tacks also follow a pattern. He begins the three neikos speeches (but not the “gentle words” to Idomeneus, the two Ajaxes and Nestor—4.256, 285, 313) with questions.

“Argives . . . disgraces, are you not ashamed?” (242)

“Why do you stand off shrinking in fear and wait for others?” (340)

“Why do you cower, why do you steal glances at the banks of war?” (371)

Next, Agamemnon compares his addressees to scared animals. His general rebuke to the Argives pictures them as fawns whose motion across the plain is halted by fear (243-45). To Odysseus and Diomedes {69|70}, he uses the verb ( kata)ptōssō (340, 371) a verb related to the word for “rabbit” that still exhibits an active association with the animal’s behavior (cf. the image in 17.676 of an eagle capturing the cowering creature). The final strategy in these speeches relies on privileging another place, thereby implying that the addressee occupies a position of no importance. Thus, to the Argives, Agamemnon contrasts their stilled movement with the preferable alternative of engagement in battle. Waiting by the ships is equivalent, in his words, to the vague hope that Zeus will protect them at some future time (4.249). The “other place” hurled at Odysseus and Menestheus as an insult is the dais , which, says Agamemnon, they prefer instead of battle (343-46). Diomedes is provoked by Agamemnon with the mention of another place and time, the heroic exploits of Tydeus, his father, at Thebes.

It is not coincidental that Agamemnon finally selects Odysseus and Diomedes as targets for his abuse in Book 4. The investigation of the command genre of muthoi shows us that these two heroes pose the greatest threat, next to Achilles, in their verbal abilities. [ 45 ] Idomeneus and the two Ajaxes, whom he praises, are conspicuously absent from the rolls of active muthos speakers in the poem. Nestor, on the other hand, is too good a speaker for abuse. But even when he has chosen the right competitors, Agamemnon loses to them in the flyting that follows, bested by different but equally effective performances.

Odysseus feels himself to be the real target of Agamemnon’s blame, and rightly, since only he (not Menestheus) is called names— “pre-eminent in evil tricks, mind on gain” (4.339). Instead of denying these epithets, Odysseus deftly parries the accusation of laxness with a rhetorical question: “What word has escaped the fence of teeth on you? How can you talk about neglecting war?” (350—52). Then he switches to speak of the future: “You will see … the father of Telemakhos mixing in the front lines” ( promakhoisi , 354). Finally, he criticizes Agamemnon’s style of speech: “You are talking idly” ( anemōlia bazeis , 355). Odysseus gains forcefulness from his manipulation of poetic devices. The paronomasia using his son’s name allows Odysseus to allude subtly to his own status as an archer, or “far fighter. ” The pun furthermore becomes a subtle boast: not only will he fulfill his traditional epic function, but he will go beyond this, to fight even in the front lines: he can play any role you like. And this implicit {70|71} boast contrasts with the message behind his criticism of Agamemnon’s style: we could paraphrase, “I know how to perform, but you cannot even talk appropriately.”

Agamemnon’s response certifies what the audience has already garnered by this time, that Odysseus defeated him verbally. He takes back the neikos speech just made by denying that he was even attempting to blame Odysseus (4.359). In an effort to save face, he associates himself with the victorious speaker, claiming to share his thoughts (360—61). The speech is an apology for “bad style” in all senses of the phrase; significantly, Agamemnon adopts Odysseus’ own poetic formulation to waft away his previous speech: “May the gods make all these things like the winds” ( metamōnia —cf. anemōlia earlier, both from the noun anemos , “wind”).

If Odysseus resists Agamemnon by clever riposte, Diomedes’ strategy is cunning silence. This response is indeed the only possibility, for Agamemnon has baited a trap in the final words of his neikos speech about Diomedes’ father: “Such was Tydeus. But the son he begat is worse in war—better in speaking” (399-400). Under these terms, were Diomedes even to attempt an Odyssean reply, he would simply affirm Agamemnon’s accusation that he is a better talker then fighter. The insult, of course, reflects back badly on Agamemnon himself, since branding one’s opponent as a slick speaker is the last resort of bankrupt rhetoricians and demagogues. We are reminded of Thucydides’ portrayal of Kleon in the Mytilene debate (3.382-7). In contrast, the “silent” answer works with complete effect here because it constitutes an ambiguous sign. The poet reads it for us at face value, as Agamemnon might: “Strong Diomedes did not address him at all, ashamed of the rebuke of the respected king.” But the rules of the genre of flyting discourses allow of another interpretation. Walter Edwards, writing about insult duels in Guyana, notes: “The silence of the addressee can be interpreted … as incompetence in busin {the genre of insults} or as a strategic aloofness which asserts social superiority over the buser .” [ 46 ] Diomedes’ ploy looks like defeat but it is actually such an assertion. And Diomedes knows the rules well enough to rebuke his companion Sthenelos, who has tried to counteract the insults of Agamemnon (4.404-110). The charioteer decries the knowing lies of the abuser (404) but Diomedes replies, in effect, that Agamemnon is simply playing his role correctly (413-14). The {71|72} apparent gesture of support for the chief, by reference to the way the game is played, reinforces the agonistic intention of Diomedes’ silence. By directing his reply to Sthenelos and then getting him to consent to a muthos of command (412), he acknowledges that he knows the ambiguous import of his silence in the duel. Then, singling out Agamemnon for responsibility in the success of the war, Diomedes has also posed the unspeakable possibility of defeat (417— 18). This effectively silences the abuser. With a grand gesture, Diomedes leaps full-armed from his chariot, his armor crashing about him so that “fear would have seized even a stout-hearted one,” as Homer says (421). The audience for this gesture is Agamemnon, however, and he is neatly put in his place by the poet with this phrase.

The ability to conduct a fly ting match forms an essential part of the hero’s strategic repertoire. We shall return in the next chapter to a consideration of various styles in flyting. For now, it will be useful to examine three varieties of such speeches—those between comrades, gods, and enemies—to sketch some salient aspects of the poetics of abuse.

A reference to other authoritative speech is a recurring feature of flyting speeches among companions. The powerful muthos performed by Achilles as he marshals the Myrmidons begins in this way, with an injunction to recall their previous threats ( apeilai ) against the Trojans: “Myrmidons, let no one forget on me the threats with which you threatened the Trojans at the ships all during the time of anger” (16.200-201). Adkins has described the conditions under which the semantic range of apeilai can include threats, boasts, vows, promises, and magniloquent speech. [ 47 ] All can be classed together as efforts to make oneself felt in a hostile environment. I would add that Homeric diction once more proves attentive to the category of speech-act (as we noticed in the case of winged words). For all senses of apeilai can be subsumed under the head of assertives or commissives. And the latter can actually fit under the former category, because, in context, vows and promises are made in order to announce a social assertion of alliance or opposition. [ 48 ] Achilles’ reference to this category of speech is at one remove from its original force. Although he mentions threats, he does so not to threaten anyone himself, but {72|73} to challenge the Myrmidons. The rhetorical strategy of recalling past speech-acts to shame the present hearers into action had been displayed by Nestor early in the poem, in a speech berating the Achaeans: “You speak in the assembly like infantile children, who are not affected by war works. To what end will come the agreements and oaths we have?” ( sunthesiai te kai horkia , 2.349). Because the challenges that both heroes make are not defied, we see as it were only the first half of a neikos episode. But the intent of both Achilles’ muthos and Nestor’s challenge is unmistakably akin to Agamemnon’s motives in the epipōlēsis .

Achilles’ challenge is the more effective because he not only recalls one speech-act (the threats) but uses a direct quotation to mimic another, one the Myrmidons had employed. Like Odysseus to Agamemnon in Book 4, Achilles dismisses these earlier grumbling speeches as mere talk ( ebazete , 16.207). In familiar flyting fashion, he contrasts “then” with “now”: the Myrmidons used to talk of going home because Achilles was angered, “but now has appeared the great work of strife, of which you were previously enamored” (16.207-8).

This flyting strategy is not limited to Achaean heroes. Sarpedon rebukes Hektor in Book 5 in a neikos speech that is later labeled a muthos (see 5.471 and 5.493). The then/now contrast opens his attack, followed immediately by a reference to Hektor’s earlier boasts: “Hektor, where has your strength gone, which you previously used to have? You used to say at some point that you would hold the city alone, without troops and allies, with your brothers and brothers-in -law. I cannot see any of them now or notice any, but they all cower like dogs around a lion” (5.471—76). Sarpedon’s speech is noteworthy for its insistent criticism of Hektor’s verbal behavior, charging him with failing to give orders (485) and advising him to supplicate the allied leaders ( lissomenōi , 491) for help in order to deflect verbal abuse ( kraterēn apothesthai enipēn , 492).

The recalled-speech strategy recurs, finally, within Agamemnon’s speech about Atē in Book 19. Here the framework is a speech designed to ratify the renewed solidarity among the Achaeans; it is the opposite of a flyting speech. Appropriately, therefore, the speech-act which Agamemnon recalls to open his discourse was a neikos event, now over—the muthos which the Achaeans spoke to Agamemnon many times (19.85-86), apparently in voicing their dissatisfaction with his treatment of Achilles. From this brief reference to the past, Agamemnon shifts to the present: “But I am not responsible” (86). {73|74}

Such a denial of guilt would have been an appropriate response to a flyting speech in the past . Compare the exchange between the disguised Poseidon and Idomeneus. To the god’s challenge, “Where are now the threats gone, with which the sons of the Achaeans threatened Trojans?” (13.219—20), the Cretan chief replies, “No man is now responsible, as much as I know. For we all know how to war” (13.222-23). The first speech fits the pattern we have already seen (cf. Achilles’ speech, quoted earlier) and the reply attempts to answer the implied contrast between former boasts and present immobility, as if Idomeneus knows the full pattern of such flyting speeches, even though it is not explicit here. In comparison, Agamemnon’s speech answers a past rebuke (not simply a rebuke in the present that refers to the past). This variation on the conventional pattern shows that the neikos words still rankle in Agamemnon’s mind, as he even now finds it necessary to shift responsibility. Once again, Homer draws our attention to Agamemnon’s inept use of patterns.

A second tactic evident in flyting muthoi again uses contrast as an operating principle, but depends on the juxtaposition of praiseworthy foil with blameworthy addressee. Glaukos applies this to Hektor, rebuking him with a harsh speech ( kraterōi ēnipape muthōi , 17.141). He first praises three different heroic alternatives: Sarpedon, whose corpse they must fight for, was a great benefit to all when alive (17.152); Achilles, whose companion is dead, is “best by far of the Argives by the ships” (165); but Hektor, he asserts, could not face even Ajax (implied to be weaker than Achilles), “since he is stronger than you. ” The rebuke is all the more stinging to an audience that has heard Sarpedon himself use the same foil technique to Hektor, previously, posing his own heroic career as the contrast to Hektor’s passivity (5.483-86), Hektor has not learned.

The foil strategy can be seen on a smaller scale in the less serious flyting speech by Andlokhos during the Funeral Games. After losing the foot race, the young hero generalizes that the gods honor the older generation. The specific hit at Odysseus’ age is tempered slightly: “They say he is a raw old man” (23.791). But one can discern a more serious allusion, to the theme of enmity between Odysseus and Achilles, in the next line: “But he is difficult for the Achaeans to compete with, except for Achilles. ” The effect of Antilokhos’ slightly denigratory remark is to praise Achilles (793, kudēnen ), who responds, like a patron to a praise-poet, with a gift and muthoi to bestow it formally (793-96). {74|75}

This exchange brings us to a third aspect of flyting speeches: because the figure of the laudandus is often created at the expense of another character, praise and blame are inextricable in this genre. Reading the Iliad with this in mind helps to explicate several speeches in which the muthos ends rather than begins a neikos . One example comes after Hektor’s direct insults to his brother Paris (3.38-57). In response to Hektor’s stream of abuse, full of every flyting device, Paris states his approval of Hektor’s performance, in a muthos . (We hear it called this at 3.76 and 3.87.) Paris’ proposal to stage a duel thus produces a temporary harmony within Trojan ranks, as it opens the possibility of ending the larger neikos of the war. Yet the muthos of Paris, set as it is in the context of a fraternal dispute, still bears the marks of flyting discourse. It includes a strong prohibitive—”Do not bring up against me the lovely gifts of Aphrodite”—which is the rhetorical equivalent of a denial of responsibility, since Paris could not throw away such bestowals. Another mark is the comparison of Hektor’s heart and mind to a woodsman’s unwearied axe (61-64). Suggestive metaphor in some traditions is one way to start a quarrel. [ 49 ] The adjective that Paris uses to describe the axe might be this type of suggestion, for in the diction of Homer, ateirēs either describes a bronze weapon, usually when it injures a warrior (5.292, 7.247, 14.25), or a voice raised in rough encouragement mixed with rebuke (13.45, 22.227). Athena in the guise of Phoinix uses an ateirea phōnēn (17.555) to remind Menelaos of the disgrace to come should Patroklos’ corpse be abandoned, and Hektor has used the same rare word ( katēpheiē , 3.51) in his flyting speech to which Paris responds here. In sum, Paris’ retort, “your heart is like an ‘unwearied’ axe,” can be read to mean “I register your tone of voice; your remarks cut me.” The negative implications may also be encoded in Paris’ description of the axe as an aid to man’s strength (62), for this is to say that Hektor requires flyting language as compensation for lack of power in arms. Rather than showing an “incomplete apprehension of character” on Paris’ part, his manipulation of poetic simile is a dexterous face-saving performance that proves to be an accurate prediction of Hektor’s ultimate dilemma. [ 50 ]

Another scene from the Games shows us a muthos that silences flyting: Achilles’ intervention between the quarreling Ajax and Idomeneus {75|76} (23.491-98). This dispute erupts over an informal contest to see who can name the winners of the chariot race, from a distance. Idomeneus’ muthos is an attempt to gain authority by its suggestion that he alone has the ability to discern the race results before it is over (457-72); the speech also gives him an opportunity to single out one hero for praise, Diomedes (471-73). Ajax recognizes the move for what it is, an attempt to upstage the rightful judge of the race, and criticizes the older hero’s style: “Why are you blustering beforehand? (474, labreueai ). [ 51 ] The disposition to begin a fly ting match first becomes in the words of Ajax a cause for blame; then, a way of denigrating Idomeneus, through the implication that he is not very proficient even in this abased speech form: “But you are always blustering with muthoi . You musn’t be a blustering speaker. There are better ones present” (23.479—80). This last insult gives Idomeneus the opportunity for a brilliant counterthrust. He implicitly concedes that he is not the best at insulting by awarding that honor to Ajax: “ neikos ariste ” (483). But prowess in flyting is accompanied by incompetence at all else, by this logic (483—84). Thus Idomeneus springs on Ajax the same rhetorical trap that we saw another older hero use (Agamemnon at 4.399-400). Unlike Agamemnon, Idomeneus leaves an apparent escape, in the form of a proposed wager (23.485-87); we might be suspicious when he names Agamemnon to be the judge. Given their similar methods, one expects that Agamemnon would take his Cretan friend’s side. With a touch of psychological realism, then, Homer makes Achilles interrupt the escalating flyting match with a command to focus attention on nikē rather than neikos (496). He deflects blame onto those who would use the genre: “Get angry at another, whoever would do such things” (494).

In the preceding chapter, I examined the rhetoric of “words and deeds,” suggesting that this trope could be expressed either as conjunction (best at both) or disjunction (better in words than deeds). In the poetics of flyting which we have sketched by analyzing solely muthos speeches, both functions emerge. A hero’s status as warrior requires him to value fighting over flyting; to speak, if at all, laconically. [ 52 ] Yet, to draw attention to his martial ability, the hero must {76|77} use language well, and be criticized on his performance. The paradox is embodied in Patroklos’ words to Meriones. His companion has responded well to Hektor’s flyting words by capping Hektor’s lines. Compare Hektor’s “My spear would have stopped you … dancer though you are” (16.617) with Meriones’ “It is hard for you to quench the strength of all .… strong though you are.” The latter mimics Hektor’s style exactly, down to the coincidence of metrical segment and subordinate clause at line-end (cf. 618 and 621). Meriones has performed a poetic coup. And although Patroklos halts this neikos by reference to the lesser importance of extended speech, we cannot help but notice that his own warning is itself a finished performance, with a polished gnomic chiasmus, “For in hands is the end of war, of words in the council” (650), and a juxtaposition marked by alliteration: “Therefore it is not necessary to increase the muthos , but to fight ( makhesthai )” (631). We may conclude that flyting by its very nature leads to the enactment of a performance with a focus on style, even more so than in the genre of commands. This emphasis becomes even more marked in the formal representation of memories, to which I turn now. [ 53 ]

Feats of Memory

“Great narrative artists are drawn to abuses of narrative. Homer is interested in lies and boasts, Virgil in lies and rumor, Shakespeare in slander, Milton in temptations, George Eliot and D. H. Lawrence in gossip.” [ 54 ] But are “lies and boasts” really “abuses of narrative” to the archaic Greek poet? Or are we confusing “narrative” with “factual account”? I believe that in such things as lies and boasts—but most of all in three speech genres which are named muthoi —epic depicts the very essence of narrative. So far we have examined Homeric commands and flyting speeches; the third genre of discourse designated muthos within the Iliad cannot be readily identified with small, embedded genres such as these, but embraces a type underlying both of the others: performances of memory. Furthermore, this third genre {77|78} can be compared with the overarching medium of Homeric poetry itself. As the act of recall which elicits from the Muse the story of the Iliad carries with it the memory of commands and disputes, so the muthos of memory holds a place in the hierarchy of Homeric speeches higher than the others. Yet we shall see that even the acts of recalling and reminding are not isolated in the Iliad from something of speechmaking’s agonistic clash. And as with the other genres we have seen, in “feats of memory, ” too, there are better and worse performers.

The vocabulary of memory in early Greek literature has attracted attention since Milman Parry’s studies linking Homer with oral traditions. [ 55 ] Only one scholar has, to my knowledge, approached the problem of words for memory and remembering in the Iliad . W. S. Moran has shown that the verb mimnēskomai covers a range of activities involving memory: in particular, Homeric diction often uses this term to denote the singing of epic tales within the poem, stories that we can find in other, non-Homeric attestations. [ 56 ] Moran’s interest is chiefly in demonstrating that the method of Homeric composition is mirrored within Homeric poetry, making the verb “to remember” into nearly a technical term for “singing.”

With this relation between “memory” and poetic performance in mind, I wish to expand the investigation of memory by setting it in the context of other sorts of performance within the poem, especially the analogous acts of fighting and speaking. My reason for attempting this comes from our investigation of muthos , for that term leads us to look at speeches of certain types. One of these types is clearly centered on a speaker’s recollection and re-presentation of past events. As with the analysis of flyting and commands, it will be most helpful if we examine the larger notion of memory behind such speeches, as well as look at the dozen or so performances that are based mainly on this act.

The formulaic use of the verb mimnēskomai (“recall, remember”) provides a good place to start. (Although the semantics of this verb {78|79} cover a range of meanings, from “call to mind” to “keep in mind,” I shall argue that formulaic usage assimilates the several denotations.) We can observe three areas in which these formulas are deployed: to speak of battle; to recall a personality; and to remind divinities of past favors. The last class is the smallest, and we shall not spend time on it here, as the function of the reminding ( hypomnēsis ) in early Greek prayers is generally well known. As I have noted before, prayer is one important genre never designated muthos by the Iliad . The diction surrounding the memory of persons will be examined later in this section; first we will consider the largest class, the use of this verb in formulas that involve battle.

Here, the tendency in Homer toward an economy of dictional elements is well attested. One half-line formula is standard for the narrator’s observation that fighters “remembered” battle ( mnēsanto de kharmēs ). It occurs when Homer has just described a shift in the war’s fortunes as a result of a retreat or a sign from Zeus. [ 57 ] Another formulaic full line occurs in the direct speech of the fighters on either side as they urge on their companions at the height of battle: “Be men, friends, remember rushing power” ( aneres este, philoi, mnēsasthe de thouridos alkēs ). [ 58 ] Twice the narrative phrase is transformed into a hortatory subjunctive in direct speech, “Let us be mindful of the battle” (15.477, I9.I48) and once into a potential optative (17.103, still in first-person plural). Only once does the reverse transformation occur, at 11.566: “Ajax at times remembered rushing power.” [ 59 ]

By means of these formulas the poet crystallizes two steps in the process of remembering battle. The act itself of “remembering” is rarely dramatized, although interior monologues and the speaker’s own assertions can be used to enact this part of the process. More often, the act of reminding is depicted. At times, a speaker makes an explicit reference to memory without using the formulas we have {79|80} seen. Achilles in his speech upon return (19.146-53) uses both strategies, conventional and otherwise:

The gifts, if you wish, offer, as is fit, Agamemnon lord of men, most glorious son of Atreus, or keep them by you. But now let us remember the battle ( mnēsōmetha kharmēs ), right away. For it is necessary not to chatter nor waste time here, for a great deed is still undone. In this way, one may see Achilles again with the front-lines, killing rows of Trojans with a bronze spear. And in this way let any one of you, remembering, fight a man ( memnēmenos andri makhesthō ).

Glaukos, urging Hektor to fight over Sarpedon’s corpse, begins his speech by saying that Hektor has “forgotten the allies who die for your sake far from friends and fatherland” (16.538-40). In this rhetoric, memory is the mechanism for affirming social bonds and challenging the listener to uphold them. In addition, the topic of memory can be used with rhetorical effect over large stretches of discourse even when there is no overt lexical reference. Furthermore, the act of reminding blends into that of a third enactment, recalling. But even here, as in the scenes just reviewed, memory has a purpose: as a general rule, characters in the Iliad do not remember anything simply for the pleasure of memory. Recall has an exterior goal.

The master of this genre is of course Nestor. In his first intervention in the poem, the old hero uses the device of recalling the past in order to legitimate his claim on authority in the present (1.259—74): “But obey. You are both younger than I. Already I have been with men better than you and they never slighted me. ” The act of recalling here focuses precisely on Nestor’s ability to command: “And they understood my counsels and obeyed the muthos ” (1.273). We can see that the ability to command—mastery of the first muthos genre— is enhanced when the speaker has the ability to foreground his own directives by retrojecting the act of command through another rhetorical genre, recollection. This latter genre, apart from commands and fly ting, is the only other one to be labeled muthos .

The Iliad seems to leave a gap. Having been shown the persuasive power of Nestor, based on his ability to remember and remind, the audience might well expect him to be the only hero capable of convincing Achilles to rejoin the battle. But this ideal confrontation of generations never occurs. Instead, Odysseus, the speaker whom we have already recognized to be in contention with Achilles for command {80|81} of the muthos takes on the job, and fails. Nestor does succeed—but with what seems to us to be the wrong audience, Patroklos. I observed earlier that Odysseus and Nestor practice similar rhetorical tacks in their commanding muthoi to Achilles and Patroklos. Indeed, the central trope in these speeches is explicitly an act of memory. Odysseus had said (of Peleus’ speech): “Thus the old man instructed, but you forget” (9.259). Compare Nestor’s words to Patroklos, in which the same line recurs (11.790). Nor is the strategy of dramatic memory limited to these two speakers. Phoinix, who seems to stand in for Nestor in the embassy scene, uses a long discourse from memory as the centerpiece of his attempt to induce Achilles to come back. “I recall this deed from of old, nothing new indeed, how it was. I will tell it among you, friends all” (9.527). [ 60 ] The epic tale he proceeds to recount does refer to a past event, but clearly has been shaped in performance to address the present audience for the composition, Achilles, with hints embedded in such things as the name of the older hero’s wife, Kleo-patra (reminding Achilles of his companion’s name, Patro-klos). [ 61 ]

Alongside the presentation of Nestor as ideal speaker in the Iliad is that of Odysseus as another effective performer from memory. It is not, then, inauthentic for Odysseus to be selected as one who tries to persuade Achilles. An earlier episode, however, shows us the differences between the rhetoric of Odysseus and Nestor and may provide more insight on why Odysseus’ rhetoric is not quite as good. He performs a muthos to spur the Achaeans into battle in Book 2, just before a similar speech by Nestor. Again, command is combined with memory, and pointed up nearly to the sharpness of a flyting discourse. One could score the speech by noting the shifts in genres of muthos within it. Odysseus begins with flyting: “The Achaeans want to make you {Agamemnon} most shameful of mortal men, ” he says, comparing the troops to children or women anxious to get home. Now memory takes over: “It is the tenth year at Troy, so I do not blame the Achaeans for chafing.” A command intrudes: “Bear up, friends, until we know if Kalkhas is prophesying truth” (2.299-300). This in turn triggers a long rendition by Odysseus of an earlier {82} prophecy by Kalkhas, at Aulis, when there appeared the sign of the snake who ate the swallows. Precise details—the altar and the springs near it, the snake’s color, the number of birds and their cries—these are remembered in the service of dramatic rhetoric intended to convince the Achaeans of the authenticity of the event, but also to raise the status of the one who remembers it. For Odysseus, in recalling the words of Kalkhas, himself exhibits a seerlike ability to describe and interpret what is not present. Memory bestows a mantle on its practitioners. [ 62 ]

The crucial difference between this type of performance and that of Nestor, as we see it in his long narrative in Book 2 (656-803) has to do with the self-presentation of the speaker. Although both talk for the same purpose, Odysseus foregrounds himself as performer, explicitly quoting another authority (Kalkhas), whom he then can be seen to overcome in the contest of speaking: Kalkhas, as we saw in Book 1, does not even cite his own previous acts, whereas Odysseus remembers all, apparently. Nestor, on the other hand, presents himself not as a speaker, but as a heroic performer of both words and deeds. His narrative of personal experience is convincing because it calls for emulation, even challenge. It becomes the mainspring of memory that powers the entire second half of the poem’s action.

As with commands, memory speeches provoke challenge. They can easily lead to fly ting duels. Another speech by Nestor illustrates this shift. We are familiar with his habit of self-citation, to authorize his present speech. His first speech in the Iliad revolves around this and, furthermore, begins with a particularly Nestorian tactic to indicate his dismay: “A great sorrow has come to Akhaia; Priam and his children might rejoice” (1.245-46). Nestor reuses this strategy in his speech at 7.124-60: “A great sorrow has come to Akhaia. Peleus, the honored horse-driver, would groan.” As earlier, he shifts into the mode of recollection, but here, three separate items are recalled, and his memory is thickly layered. He recalls that Peleus once questioned him about Argive genealogy (1.127-28); he wishes he were young as when he fought the Arkadians (1.133-57); and embedded in the latter ring-composition is a third memory, the heritage of the armor of Ereuthalion, whom he defeated long ago. This last recollection sounds like antiquarian trivia, unless we realize the importance of {82|83} armor as a signifier of heroism in the poem (consider, for example, Achilles’ equipment), and further place this narrative sign in the context of genealogical lore, a topic I shall take up shortly. For now, the important point is that all three “memories” described are set in terms appropriate to flyting as the speech ends. “Thus did Nestor make a neikos ” (7.161). It becomes clear that he has used himself as foil to shame the Achaeans into volunteering for the duel.

When we examine the role of memory in fly ting, a cluster of varied rhetorical functions emerges. The technique of contrasting one’s own career with the addressee’s cowardice or immobility has been analyzed previously in our discussion. A more generally used strategy is the one that Agamemnon tries in urging the defense of the ships: “Shame, Argives, evil disgraces, admirable in form only” (8.228). Abusive language is the lowest skill. But after this line, Agamemnon more skillfully shifts to a rhetorical question: “Where have the boasts gone, when we said we were best, the oaths you idly spoke on Lemnos?” (229—30). In elaborating this tack, Agamemnon dwells on the early scene of free-flowing wine and talk: this topic of food forms a bridge with his second act of recollection, as he remembers the cattle thighs he burnt in sacrifice when he piously honored Zeus at every altar en route to Troy (238-41). The juxtaposition of these memories shames his hearers, but also serves Agamemnon’s purposes for characterizing himself as a consistent personality. The Achaeans have stopped boasting, he implies, but Agamemnon, as the very form of his words show, has not stopped praying to Zeus even now (236, Zeu pater ).

Three exchanges between gods can illustrate the versatile social function of remembering and reminding within the context of rebukes. Spoken in a tone of defiance, the words “Don’t you remember” introduce a threat. Ares, in a flyting muthos (21.393), asks Athena, “Don’t you recall when you drove Diomedes, son of Tydeus, to wounding, and yourself thrust at me, grasping the spear all could see?” (396-98). Ares turns his earlier injury into a cause for action, in language resembling a legal formulation: “Therefore I now think you will repay me as much as you have done” (399).

A short while later, Poseidon rebukes Apollo with this phrase, in a gentler manner, for supporting the Trojans: “Don’t you recall all the ills we suffered, we two alone of the gods, about Troy, we who slaved for Laomedon at a set pay for a year?” (21.441-45). Instead of spurring him to fight, this leads Apollo, by the reminder of Laomedon’s {84} treachery, to offer an elegiac dismissal of the value of fighting for humankind. But Apollo’s twin takes up the neikos (471) and in a third deployment of the discourse of memory says threateningly, “May I never hear you boasting—as you did before among immortal gods—that you fight face-to-face Poseidon.” The success of Artemis’ abuse becomes a moot point as Hera intervenes to box her ears, but, in view of the rhetorical tack she took, we can gather that having refused a fight would be considered a cause for blame in future boasting events. To deny that an addressee has been consistently heroic is to constrain his further fame.

A slightly different strategy for the flyting hero’s use of memory comes in Achilles’ words to Hektor not long before he kills him. In view of the genre rules elicted thus far, Hektor has already made a false step even before casting his weapon, because he recalls his own lack of courage. It is a performance foreign to the heroic ethic to say, “I will not flee you as I did before” (22.250—51). Moving aggressively into this rhetorical opening, Achilles brushes aside the proposed treaty to respect one another’s corpses (which also goes against the conventional vow to defile another). He uses the rhetoric of repayment and recalls the injury that provokes him, the death of his friend (see 22.271-72 and compare 21.399). Before making this threat, Achilles orders Hektor to “remember every sort of excellence: now you must be spearman and intrepid fighter” (22.268-69). If this sounds like the formulaic “remember strength” formula, we must not overlook the radical change wrought here. For, as we observed, it is always the commander urging on his own troops who uses this turn of phrase. By throwing this familiar encouragement at Hektor, Achilles violates a linguistic constraint, with precisely the same tonal effect as when he uses “winged words” to an enemy. [ 63 ] The ultimate rhetorical insult to a warrior is to be infantilized or feminized. If Achilles can “remind” Hektor how to fight, he has already negated Hektor’s ability to win. [ 64 ] This is a strategy Hektor knows as well, since he used a direct “quotation” to Patroklos (the alleged “order” of Achilles, 16.838—41) in order to reduce his adversary to the status of an unthinking, obedient follower of directions. {84|85}

Here the rhetoric of recollection comes full circle. A commander’s persuasive power, as we saw, depends on an ability to construct memories; so does a warrior’s attack on the enemy. The “truth” value of such memories is not an issue; epic “deconstructs,” if you like, the very act of memory by showing us its pragmatic underpinnings in such situations. At the same time, there is in the poem an appreciation for the abilities of fictive creation that accords such imaginative use of recollection full quotation—a fascination with the source of narrative, it seems.

That the hero’s ability to command or engage in dispute is “poetic” in the widest sense has been my contention throughout this chapter. But I have also tried to show that, from the viewpoint of comparative studies both in Greek and other traditions, giving commands and conducting verbal contests are in fact “poetic” talents even on the more narrowly defined basis, relating to stylized verbal art forms. Even if there is no overt genre label for two of the three genres (the exception being neikos ), the rule-bound nature of the discourses within the poem, coupled with the comparative evidence for such poetic genres, should lead us to believe that the construction of the massive epic draws on actually existing social-poetic genres. Memory, for the poet, is not just diachronic but synchronic—the recollection of the way contemporary men and women speak. Or, put another way, the diction of such embedded genres is most likely inherited and traditional; the rhetoric, on the other hand, is the locus of spontaneous composition in performance. As we saw earlier and will find in the next chapter, the way in which heroes speak to one another foregrounds for us this phenomenon of performing to fit the audience.

The last and most crucial strategy in the warrior’s repertoire can show us that the genre of memory, like the others, has a poetic congener. For the recitation of genealogy in poetic form is recognized throughout Africa as an essential social genre, and moreover it holds a good claim to be one of the oldest Indo-European genres, attested in Irish, Welsh, Avestan, Old English, Norse, and non-Homeric Greek poetry. [ 65 ] Homer’s own genealogical interests as narrator hardly need illustration: the system of patronymics enshrines this, as do the vignettes in the Catalogue of Ships and more extensive passages such as {85|86} the story of Agamemnon’s scepter (2.101-9). The last-mentioned passage holds clues as to the relevance of such genealogical performance as a mechanism for creating social cohesion. The role of genealogical memories within Iliadic speeches is slightly different in orientation: the hero uses it to mark his own deeds, as does Achilles after killing Asteropaios (21.187-91) or to shame another to act (as do Agamemnon and others with Diomedes: 4.375, 5.813). Aeneas’ use of the genre is ambiguous, since he is clearly characterized as a “master of poetic skills in the language of praise and blame, ” as his very name asserts, yet seems to spend an inordinate amount of time recounting his genealogy so as to face down Achilles before a duel (20.200-258), compared with Achilles, who can afford to wait until after the victim is dead. [ 66 ] Diomedes’ employment of genealogical recitation is more obviously a device for accomplishing his entrée into the world of heroic speakers (14.110-27).

If this formal poetic genre within the discourse of memory earns its performers a place in the world of men, another related genre eases them from that world and into fame: I refer to the poetry of lament. Aided by the work of Margaret Alexiou, we are able to recognize a remarkably unbroken poetic tradition in Greece perpetuating this socially important genre. [ 67 ] The theme and diction of lament appear to have shaped the Iliad and can even be found embedded in the name of Achilles, “grief of the fighting-men.” [ 68 ] Typologically, such a blending of lament themes within epic would not be surprising, as the genre of epic seems in some traditions to have arisen from panegyric of the type performed at aristocratic funerals. Certainly, many non-Greek epics feature extended laments, sometimes in another poetic meter and form, embedded in the narrative. [ 69 ] In terms of my emphasis on performance, it is significant that the best speaker in the course of the action of Iliad (not just in the ideology of the poem) is Achilles, who happens to be the one hero most practiced in the genre of lament, as we see in his speeches from Book 18 on. It is, as well, the genre of lament in the context of larger memories that finally unites Achilles in thought with Priam and effects the closure of the Iliad, both men remembering their losses. [ 70 ] But I wish to conclude this chapter with a slight shift of focus, namely the speech of women, the traditional performers of formal lament in Greek tradition.

The poem’s final scene presents a full-scale lamentation with performances by women close to Hektor. His wife Andrornakhe mourns for his early death, praises his protection of the city, and predicts the suffering she will face as a widow with a young child (24.725-45). Hekabe, his mother, dwells on the fine condition of his corpse, as sign of divine favor (748—59). Helen makes a dramatically fitting third mourner, as she has unwittingly caused Hektor’s death. This implicit fact structures her lament: even though she may have expected abuse, Hektor never reviled her, and in fact protected her from the remarks of others (762-75).

With this scene in mind, as well as the genre classification of muthos that I have presented thus far, we can finally understand two seemingly anomalous passages in which women at Troy answer back to men by using a muthos . Given the male, heroic in-group orientation of the word muthos , and its association with powerful self-presentation, it would seem to be a social taboo for women to employ this kind of speech. But it turns out that Helen and Hekabe, both of whom address Priam with a muthos at other points in the poem, are actually enacting laments in the speeches labeled with this word. That is to say, they fulfill an expected performance role, using a recognized genre of muthos as memory—but they are presented as doing so at unexpected times, to create dramatic effect.

The address that Hekabe makes to Priam as he leaves for Achilles’ tent is explicitly presented in the language of lament (“she wailed [ kōkusen ], and answered with a muthos ,” 24.200). The speech starts with desperate rebukes of Priam’s folly in going—we can compare the tone of Andromakhe’s lament at 24.743-45, chiding Hektor for not consoling her. Even more explicit is the call for others to join in her mourning, a theme found still in Greek lament. [ 71 ] Hekabe concludes with a dramatization of her anger and grief: she could eat the {87|88} liver of Achilles; only such violence would offer requital. In sum, the speech laments both her son, now dead, and her husband, whom she does not expect to see again alive.

When we first hear Helen in Book 3 of the Iliad , she has come to see her husband duel, having been persuaded by Iris and overcome with “sweet desire” for Menelaos and her past (3.139). Priam on the wall overlooking the plain asks her for an exact declaration concerning the name of a hero below (3.166, exonomēnēis ). That this sort of a speech requires a muthos on the part of Helen is confirmed by the formula she uses later ( ounoma muthēsaimēn , 3.235) in making the statement Priam wants. But at this point, her naming of the hero is delayed in the first speech. Instead, in this reply and only this one, she uses the language of lament, recalling her former home and wishing that she herself had died when she followed Paris to Troy (171-80). Alive, she is wasted with grieving ( klaiousa , 176, cf. this verb in Hekabe’s lament, 24.208). And she refers to Menelaos as if he were no longer alive (3.180). Rather than being a random variation on a speech-introductory formula, the poet’s use here of the line Τὸν δ’ Ελένη μύθοισιν ἀμείβετο, δῖα γυναικῶν keys an audience by the use of the word muthos to a graceful enactment of desire in the context of lament. [ 72 ]

These lamentations, by Helen and Hekabe, fulfill the conditions for performance that we have seen elsewhere: they are acts of self-presentation with an emphasis on extension and detail, in a public setting. The genius of the Iliad lies in having captured such acts within the medium of epic, and used them to humanize archaic figures of myth. We turn next to these performers of muthoi . [ 73 ]

[ back ] 1. Rosmarin 1985:39.

[ back ] 2. Fowler 1982:1-53 is a good summary of the issues involved.

[ back ] 3. Turner 1979:89. For another view, with reference to oral poetics, see Caraveli-Chaves 1980:156. Bakhtin was able to demonstrate the links between literary and social genres, especially in his work on Rabelais. For a summary and bibliography see Bakhtin 1986:60-100. Stewart 1986:46, compares Bakhtin’s insights with those of Searle and Austin on speech-acts. Todorov, working from the Formalists and Bakhtin, illustrates the relationship between the types of genres in Les genres du discours (1978). I have applied his insights to archaic Greek poetry in my work on the Theogony proem (Martin 1984). A selection of essays on folklore genres can be found in Ben-Amos 1976.

[ back ] 4. See Salmond 1974:196-212.

[ back ] 5. On Navaho: Gill 1981, esp. 9-34; Antigua: Reisman 1974; Guyana: Edwards 1979.

[ back ] 6. See Bassett 1938:70-71, who estimates that these occupy 90 percent of the Iliad’s speeches. Bauman 1978:27 observes that the distinction between speech-acts and speech-genres is often not significant in oral cultures: I suggest this is the Homeric situation.

[ back ] 7. A summary is in Fenik 1986:3. Thornton 1984:73-92 discusses other narrative type-scenes and has a bibliography.

[ back ] 8. I know of no evidence that the phonology, morphology, or syntax of speeches in Homer changes from narrative to nonnarrative portions; in my experience, the poetic language is consistent over both parts. The important preliminary study by Jasper Griffin 1986 of vocabulary differences between speech and narrative seems to indicate that certain categories, such as abstract nouns, are virtually restricted to speeches. Is this poetic stylization or Homeric mimesis of actual Ionian speech habits in the eighth or seventh centuries? Bauman 1986:134 remarks on Icelandic sagas: “Oral tradition may have preserved some features of earlier verbal behavior patterns for extended periods, but the literary representation of ways of speaking . . . more likely reflects the usage of the period in which the sagas were written. “

[ back ] 9. See the discussion at BaŞgöz 1978:317.

[ back ] 10. Latacz 1975:417-18. Kirk 1976:108 criticizes the work on similar grounds.

[ back ] 11. This is not uncommon typologically: Bauman 1978:27 notes that “a particular performance system may well be organized … in terms of speech-acts that conventionally involve performance, others that may or may not, and still others for which performance is not a relevant consideration. “

[ back ] 12. See Notopoulos 1938 on the relation between memory and Homeric art.

[ back ] 13. On the plan of Zeus as imperfective but determined from the start, see Lynn-George (1988) 38-41.

[ back ] 14. M. Edwards 1980:13-15 reads this as a divine visitation type-scene, with slightly different results.

[ back ] 15. Compare also Iris to Priam, 24.173-75.

[ back ] 16. On this meaning of the epithet (in preference to the alternative “wide-seeing”) see Chantraine 1968-80:387. [ back ]

[ back ] 17. Searle 1976:4.

[ back ] 18. On the types of speech-act, see Bach and Harnish 1979:39-59.

[ back ] 19. Searle 1976:15n3.

[ back ] 20. See Leaf 1900-1902 on 11.194

[ back ] 21. Connor 1987 illustrates the usefulness of this new approach.

[ back ] 22. Detienne 1986:44-62 discusses politics in the “creation” of myth.

[ back ] 23. One sign of this challenge is the formulaic line “What sort of muthos have you said,” which is attributed to Hera, speaking to Zeus, six of the seven times it occurs (1.552, 4.25, 8.462, 14.330, 16.440, and 18.361). The seventh use of the phrase (8.209) is by Poseidon to Hera — interestingly, in light of the slight edge she holds over him in number of muthoi spoken. The contrast in rhetorical strategies between Hera and Poseidon is a fascinating study in its own right. Suffice it to say that Homer flanks Zeus, as on a pediment, with portrayals of wife and brother enacting muthos commands that do not equal his. The order of portrayal is chiastic: Poseidon (7.445-53), Hera (8.201-7), Hera (20.114-31), Poseidon (20.292). These speeches further show the poetry’s capacity for characterization through style and sociolinguistic distinctions.

[ back ] 24. On the significance for the poem’s theme of these concepts, see Nagy 1979:130.

[ back ] 25. On political power as a product of oratorical power, in classical Athens and a number of other traditional societies, see Bloch 1975. Later we shall see that the number or style of prayers by a hero does not qualify as important for characterizing any hero.

[ back ] 26. Kirk 1985:145 offers stylistic comments on Odysseus’ words here.

[ back ] 27. On this theme in the Iliad see Martin 1983:59-65.

[ back ] 28. On this important Odyssean theme, see Pucci 1987:165-72.

[ back ] 29. On the puns involved here, see Macleod 1982:52.

[ back ] 30. See Bloch 1975:29-63.

[ back ] 31. Rosaldo 1982:209.

[ back ] 32. A start is made by political scientist J.B. White 1984:34.

[ back ] 33. Karp 1977:241 recognizes the central place of persuasion in the movement of the poem’s plot, but his article is mostly an attempt to locate the forerunners of later notions about rhetoric.

[ back ] 34. Hymes 1974:34.

[ back ] 35. See Ong 1981:esp. 26, 29, 108-29.

[ back ] 36. For a survey, see Brenneis 1978. On Turkish rhyming duels, see Dundes et al. 1972. Cf. Winner 1958:30-34 on poetic competitions.

[ back ] 37. Ong 1981:110.

[ back ] 38. On lying in traditional tale-trading, see Bauman 1986b.

[ back ] 39. Pratt 1977:217.

[ back ] 40. Herzfeld 1985:143.

[ back ] 41. See Larson 1978:58-66 for the distinction between direct speech which functions to move a story along, and that which is meant to represent certain speech-acts.

[ back ] 42. Adkins 1969:esp. 7-10, 20-21.

[ back ] 43. Nagy 1979:222-42, and see references therein to studies of cognate traditions.

[ back ] 44. On the suggestion that Homeric disputes, as typical scenes, be compared with Germanic flyting, and for bibliography on the latter, see now Parks 1986. F. Clark 1981 offers a broader typological view in oral-poetic terms.

[ back ] 45. On the clash with Diomedes, see Chapter 3.

[ back ] 46. W. Edwards 1979:24.

[ back ] 47. Adkins 1969:10-12 and 18-20.

[ back ] 48. On assertives, see Searle 1976 and on social value in the performance of such acts see Rosaldo 1982:214.

[ back ] 49. See Herzefeld 1985b:209.

[ back ] 50. The negative assessment of Paris is by Moulton 1977:91.

[ back ] 51. The verb here relies on the same image of rushing wind that we saw in other speech criticisms: cf. 2.148, in which the related adjective labros describes the west wind and cf. anemōlia used of talk at 4.355.

[ back ] 52. See Letoublon 1983:40-48 on the “ rite du défi ” as a conventional part of the fight description.

[ back ] 53. On verbatim repetition as a valued element in contest poetry, see Herzfeld 1985:142-43 on Cretan mandinadhes .

[ back ] 54. Hardy 1975:103.

[ back ] 55. Notopoulos 1938:465 cites Mnemosyne, mother of the Muses, as “the personification of an important and vital force in oral composition.” J.-P. Vernant 1965 and Marcel Detienne 1973 have investigated the interactions among Greek notions of memory, persuasion, truth, and time. For further bibliography, see Svenbro 1976:31n88.

[ back ] 56. See Moran 1975, esp. 196, 199.

[ back ] 57. See 4.222 and 14.441 (return of Achaeans after wounding of Menelaos, retreat of Hektor); 8.252 and 15.380 (return to battle after sign of eagle, sign of thunder). Once, the formula is varied to make a negation (13.722: the Trojans did not remember the fight).

[ back ] 58. At 6.112, 8.174, 11.287, 15.734, 15.487, 16.270, 17.185. A variant of the direct speech formula, noteworthy for being in the speech of a god, is 13.48, alkēs mnesamenō .

[ back ] 59. At 16.357, the formula is broken up and merged with another: “They remembered flight and forgot rushing strength.” The “forgetting strength” formula occurs elsewhere at 6.265, 11.313, and so on.

[ back ] 60. On this speech in its setting, see Rosner 1976 who has full bibliography of previous studies; and see Nagy 1979:111-15 on the semantics of the names, which embody the theme of ancestral poetic glory.

[ back ] 61. On the introduction of non-Homeric epic with the verb memnēmai see Moran 1975:204.

[ back ] 62. At the same time, Odysseus resembles the poet that we see in the Odyssey . He uses a quotation formula, in the way that Homer frames speech (see 11.2.330, keines tōs agoreue ).

[ back ] 63. On this, see Chapter 1.

[ back ] 64. For yet another variation on the genre of memory in flyting, see Achilles’ words to Lykaon. Instead of recalling past incidents of violence (for example, the way Zeus threatens Hera at 15.31), Achilles recalls earlier moments of pity, only to contrast them with his determination to kill his victim now (21.100-106).

[ back ] 65. On the African examples, see Finnegan 1977:189; on Indo-European, Campanile 1981.

[ back ] 66. On this important scene at 20.200-258, see Nagy 1979:270-75, esp. 274, on his mastery and on the name of Aeneas. It is worth noting that Agamemnon explicitly refers to an oral tradition combining genealogy and epic treatment, in his speech to Diomedes, since he says that he has only heard of Tydeus, never seen his heroic deeds (4· 374-75).

[ back ] 67. Alexiou 1974.

[ back ] 68. See Nagy 1979:69-71 for the theme and details of the etymology.

[ back ] 69. See Chadwick and Zhirmunsky 1969:72 on Central Asian examples, and, on lament in Beowulf , the work of Upland 1980:32-38 and Frank 1982. Bowra 1952:8-10 surveys epic traditions that may have arisen from panegyric.

[ back ] 70. The verb minmēskomai occurs -with increasing urgency from the death of Patroklos on; lament usually accompanies it: see 17.671; 19.314, 339; 24.4, 9, 129, 167,486, 504, 509, 602, 613, 475.

[ back ] 71. Caraveli-Chaves 1980:135.

[ back ] 72. For himeros applied to a longing for lamentation, see 24.507 and compare with [ back ] 3.139.

[ back ] 73. Two other speeches of Helen are prefaced with a formula featuring the word muthos . At 6.343 she begins a conversation with Hektor using “gentle muthoi .” The speech fits the criteria of her performance at 3.171-80, containing as it does the same themes of lament and regret; it also foregrounds the very notion of performance, indicating that Helen appreciates the conventions of the epic tradition: 358. At 3.427, she also begins the dialogue, but her speech is explicitly flyting toward Paris ( ēnipape muthōi ), whose response is framed in similar terms (437). Again, the audience must judge Helen to have a knowledge of genre, but she is seen to misuse the flyting conventions in a significant way, switching from abuse to a lament theme in mid-course (see 433-36 on her fears that Paris will be killed if he confronts Menelaos). Of course, the other possibility is that she is being sarcastic here, and so resembles more conventional warriors in her abuse.

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August 22, 2024 1:25 AM

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Primary content.

The NPR Network will be reporting live from Chicago throughout the week bringing you  the latest on the Democratic National Convention .

After striding on stage to “Small Town” by John Mellencamp, Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz accepted the Democratic nomination for vice president.

Walz’s Midwestern, small-town background has been a major theme of his campaign so far and the story he tells voters about himself and his ideas. Walz ticked through his resume: born in the tiny town of Butte, Nebraska, attending a state university, and becoming a schoolteacher.

When he was elected to Congress from Minnesota, Walz said, “I learned how to compromise, without compromising my values,” he said.

Walz also spoke, as he and his wife Gwen have repeatedly, about their struggle with infertility prior to having their two children, and the “absolute agony when we heard that the treatments hadn’t worked.” Their experience has allowed Walz to speak personally to reproductive rights issues, including fertility care , which have become increasingly central for Democrats since the Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade.

Walz highlighted another aspect of his personal story - his status as a veteran and his experience as a hunter - describing himself as a “better shot than most Republicans in Congress,” while calling for restrictions designed to prevent gun violence.

He also referenced his background as a high school coach, drawing on football metaphors to describe the urgent task he says Democrats face between now and November.

“Boy, do we have the right team,” Walz said. “Our job for everyone watching is to get in the trenches and do the blocking and tackling.”

Here are his full remarks:

In another high-profile political speech, former President Bill Clinton used his remarks to thank President Biden for stepping in to lead after Trump’s presidency and bringing the country through the pandemic.

Clinton also praised Harris and Walz as two people with “all-American but still improbable life stories,” and described Harris as the only candidate with the experience and temperament for the job of president.

Freedom - of all kinds

Freedom continued to play out as an overarching theme of the convention, in a variety of forms.

Speakers kicked off the evening with a focus on reproductive rights , featuring several prominent abortion rights activists.

Mini Timmaraju, president of Reproductive Freedom for All, noted that voters in several states will have the opportunity to vote on ballot measures related to abortion rights in November.

“Because voters who support reproductive freedom - we’re not the minority. We’re the majority,” Timmaraju said.

The program also featured advocates for LGBTQ rights, including a video speech from a couple whose marriage was officiated by Harris when she was California’s attorney general.

Michigan Attorney General Dana Nessel referred to both gay rights and abortion rights, describing her decision, after the fall of Roe v. Wade, not to use state resources to enforce a 1931 abortion ban that was still on the books.

Nessel also celebrated her same-sex marriage, challenging conservative judges to “Pry this wedding band from my cold, dead, gay hands.”

Bring them home

In one emotional moment, the parents of an Israeli-American hostage, Jon Polin and Rachel Goldberg, took the stage to chants of “Bring them home!”

Polin, apparently overcome with emotion, put her hand to her heart before briefly placing her head on the lectern.

After she composed herself, Polin said her son Hersh Goldberg-Polin, was celebrating his 23rd birthday when he was among music festival goers who were taken hostage by Hamas on October 7th. Many others in attendance were murdered.

“Since then, we live on another planet,” his mother said.

Goldberg-Polin is among more than 100 hostages, eight of them American citizens, still being held in Gaza. His mother noted that he was born in Oakland, California - the same birthplace as Harris.

His father, Jon Polin, spoke of “a surplus of agony on all sides of the tragic conflict in the Middle East. In a competition of pain, there are no winners.”

Polin called for a deal that would bring home all of the hostages and stop “the suffering of the innocent civilians in Gaza.”

Meanwhile, some members of the “uncommitted” movement - a pro-Palestinian group designed to put pressure on Democrats to address their concerns - complained that no representatives of their movement had been allowed to speak on stage at the DNC.

Harris has called for protecting civilians in Gaza and bringing the hostages home.

Reaching across the aisle

Like the first two nights, the evening included a plea to Republicans who’ve become disillusioned with former President Trump, to support the Democratic ticket.

Olivia Troye, a former Trump White House official described working inside the administration as “terrifying,” and said she’s fearful of another Trump term where the “guard rails” would be gone.

Troye continued the evening’s theme, saying she’s supporting Harris “not because we agree on every issue but because we agree on the most important issue: protecting our freedom.”

Another Republican, former Georgia Lt. Gov. Geoff Duncan also cast the decision as transcending partisan concerns.

“I am a Republican, but tonight I stand here as an American,” Duncan said.

Oprah Winfrey, who introduced Walz, also made a plea to middle-of-the-road voters, describing herself as a registered Independent and adding, “I’m calling on all of you Independents and all of you undecideds” to vote for Harris and Walz.

“Let us choose freedom,” Winfrey said, adding in her signature style. “Let’s all choose…Kamala Haaaaaaris!”

Star power on the convention stage

In addition to Winfrey — the biggest star of the night — the evening featured several other celebrity guests, including singers John Legend, Maren Morris and Stevie Wonder.

“I’m depending on you to do, as Spike Lee would say, the right thing,” he said, before performing his 1972 hit, “Keep on Running.”

Actor Mindy Kaling, poet Amanda Gorman and singer Maren Morris also made appearances.

Saturday Night Live veteran Kenan Thompson strode on stage carrying a giant bound copy of the Project 2025 plan developed by the conservative think tank the Heritage Foundation. He paged through the document while hosting a series of video conversations with ordinary people who could be affected by its proposed policies, including a woman in a same-sex marriage and an OBGYN physician.

“Everything that we just talked about is very real,” Thompson warned. “You can stop it from ever happening by electing Kamala Harris as the next President of the United States.”

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