The Rhetorical Analysis of Thomas Paine’s Rights of Man

Aleksandra Slijepcevic

Dr. Hahn, PRWR 611

December 14, 2011

Written in 1791, Thomas Paine’s Rights of Man was a literary attack on Edmund Burke’s Reflections on the Revolution in France. Furthermore, it was a defense of the French Revolution. Thomas Paine believed that a political revolution was justified when and if a government failed to protect its people, their natural rights, and their national interests. In Paine’s opinion, this definition of a revolution—in other words, failure of a government to do its job—was the cause of the French Revolution, which Edmund Burke was strongly against. This opposition from Burke ignited the fuel for Rights of Man, which was craftily written and rhetorically bulletproofed. The witty and powerful rhetoric that Paine used in writing Rights of Man mark it an extraordinary piece of political prose style. John Adams wrote in 1805 that “I know not whether any man in the world has had more influence on its inhabitants or affairs for the last thirty years than Tom Paine.[1]” Even against a number of critics, Paine became a remarkable pamphleteer with not just Rights of Man, but with Common Sense, The Age of Reason, and Agrarian Justice. Indeed, Paine’s name and reputation had become synonymous with “the age of reason,” as he helped to create the language of politics.

The French Revolution created a division, and ultimately a war, between tradition and innovation. Through the creation of a political language, Paine was able to create a vocabulary for people to use and understand that would help them express discontent for their government. This freedom of voice would, in turn, pave the road to a better life for all. On the contrary, Burke was in favor of tradition, which Paine believed was creating animosity and inequality between the French people—“the times that try men’s souls,” as Paine wrote in The Crisis.[2] At the beginning of The Rights of Man, Paine dedicates his treatise to George Washington, stating that it is a defense of the “Principles of Freedom” which Washington “so eminently” established. Paine goes on to use the actual title as a phrase, saying “that the rights of man may become as universal as your Benevolence can wish.1” This is just one example of how Paine uses “rights of man” interchangeably, which adds to his ethos as a credible and innovative writer, as well as to his pathos, which reaches out to the people and their rights.

The treatise begins with a blunt attack on Burke’s letter. Paine defines the letter as an “incivility” that nations and individuals use to irritate or provoke each other. His diction in the first sentence is concrete and specific because it leaves no room for second-guessing, nor does it invite the reader to gather multiple interpretations. Rather, Paine’s rhetoric is simple yet brutal, not only calling Burke’s letter an incivility, but “an extraordinary instance” of one, at that. The first paragraph of the treatise is only three sentences long, but Paine fills that space with just the right amount of attack so that it sets the pace and the tone for the rest of the treatise. That same paragraph is where the reader sees the first mention of the French people and the National Assembly, which served as the “middle man” between the Estates-General (the assembly representing the Church, the nobility, and the common people) and the National Constituent Assembly. [3] Paine drives the tone to indifference, saying “neither the People of France, nor the National Assembly, were troubling themselves about the affairs of England, or the English Parliament.” This sentence furthermore gives direction to a second sentence that is separated with a semicolon. This separation also creates a different tone, for Paine continues his attack, saying “why Mr. Burke should commence an unprovoked attack…is a conduct that cannot be pardoned…nor justified.” He reiterates the word “unprovoked,” as if to add emphasis and remind the reader that all could have been avoided had Burke kept his thoughts to himself. As he attacks Burk on policy, he slides in an attack on his manners, as well. This double attack serves as a personal blow to Burke’s ethos, whose credibility as a gentleman has now been compromised.

The second paragraph continues the attack in similar diction of concrete, specific, and predominantly Latinate words. Paine lists common yet derogative words that Burke has lined his letter with—rancor, prejudice, and ignorance. He also describes the letter as a “copious fury of near four hundred pages,” an almost disgusted implication that such writing would go on for that long. However, Paine saves his genius for rhetoric for the last sentence, where he uses a metaphor to describe Burke’s determination (or failure, in Paine’s opinion) to spread his opinion to “thousands.” He says, “when the tongue or the pen is let loose in a frenzy of passion, it is the man, and not the subject, that becomes exhausted.” Burke, in this instance, has depleted not just himself and his logos, but his ethos as a credible writer, rhetorician, and politician. This sentence is a brilliant showcase of Paine’s use of common words that strike hard and fast. He hasn’t only poked holes in Burke’s image and writing; he has crushed a vital center point that has consequently caused Burke’s entire structure to fall apart. It is worth noting, however, that Paine’s diction is a careful blend of both referential and emotive words; while he gives his opinion and logic in opposition of Burke’s, he coats everything with emotion that opens the readers’ eyes to reason while simultaneously uncovering the ridiculousness of Burke’s argument.

There is a reason behind sentence length in The Rights of Man. The next paragraph of the treatise follows similarly from the previous, as the sentence lengths border on medium to short, a majority of them separated by semicolons. By doing this, Paine creates a flow, one that mirrors his easy writing style and his calm, collected thoughts. What a difference this is to Burke’s writing style and sentence length—long, winding sentences, packed with thought, and often losing the reader as one point loses sight of the other. In the third paragraph, Paine starts off the third sentence with a reference to the past, in an almost story-like tone: “there was a time when it was impossible to make Mr. Burke believe there would be any revolution in France.” He puts up a prior image of Burke for the reader to see, getting ready to create a contrast, which will undoubtedly end with yet another crafty attack. What follows is Burke’s initial opinion of France, as he believed that it had “neither spirit to undertake it, nor fortitude to support it,” the “it” here meaning the revolution. Paine accomplishes two things here: he lowers Burke’s ethos once again by showing that Burke doesn’t believe in France’s spirit nor strength (a wonderful use of parallelism there), and he strengthens his contrast for the sentence to come, which states “and now that there is one [the revolution], he seeks an escape, by condemning it.” Actually, that would be a third accomplishment for Paine, as he catches Burke with his foot in his mouth.

Paine’s writing style, and particularly tone, has an undercurrent of anger, which he uses carefully and cleverly. He plays with binary grammar, often using “this or that” to illustrate only two sides or points. This technique works well in opposition to Burke’s letter because the letter is so free and expressive in form that it tends to go in many directions at the same time. Paine uses this to his advantage so that he can successively attack Burke in miscellaneous ways. His binary grammar, however, enables him to point out many logical fallacies that Burke writes, such as the ones in the following paragraph. While Paine doesn’t use names excessively throughout his treatise, which could be his own technique of “saving face,” he does mention Dr. Price, who he further uses to show Burke’s fallacies. Dr. Price spoke at a sermon in 17891 for the English Revolution; Burke gave his opinion of the sermon by saying that the English people acquired three fundamental rights because of the Revolution: “to choose our own governors, to cashier them for misconduct, and to frame a government for ourselves.” All three rights seem to be synonymous with what Paine preached, especially for the rights of man. However, Paine uses Dr. Price’s statement to uncover the fallacy Burke wrote, saying that “Dr. Price does not say that the right to do these things exists in this or that person…but…in the whole.” Notice the use of his binary grammar. Paine goes on to quote Burke as saying that the English people completely “disclaim such a right,” even though he was quoted previously as giving the three fundamental rights. This is another technique that not only spotlights Burke’s logical fallacy, but paints him out to be a complete lunatic, as the following passage will reveal, as written by Paine:

That men should take up arms, and spend their lives and fortunes, not to maintain their rights, but to maintain they have not rights, is an entirely new species of discovery, and suited to the paradoxical genius of Mr. Burke. (page 40)

This is an extraordinary example of Paine’s rhetoric, as he finds gaps and utter lack of common sense in Burke’s logic, placing it specifically in a well-constructed sentence with common language and specific detail. This is evident in Paine’s use of examples in order to better uncover the illogic—men going to war and risking their lives so as not to have rights—which is a complete contradiction to one of the fundamental rights every man has, and should. Paine uses that example specifically because it has the power to ruin Burke, whose statement is almost a slap in the face of the people and the English Revolution.

Throughout the next few paragraphs, Paine continues to show the logical fallacies put forth by Burke. With this, he is able to send more blows to Burke’s ethos, which by now, has been consistently attacked. The argument of fundamental rights is further carried, but this time, Paine uncovers a fallacy where Burke has argued that “the persons, or the generation of persons, in whom they [the rights] did exist, are dead, and with them the right is dead also.” Paine then produces evidence that Burke had compiled, in which the term “for ever” is repeatedly used. Paine takes notice of this term to attack Burke; he also uses the term as a double-barrel term (two meanings) to ridicule its use in such an illogical statement, and to imply that Burke’s ridiculous argument is “repeated over and over again,” thus for ever. This technique of double-barrel terms is never smothered in confusing sentences, one of the reasons being that Paine’s sentences are very periodic. Additionally, Paine plays with language in that he hides a metaphor-laden attack in plain sight, so to speak. This is one of his best techniques as a writer. In order to further dislocate Burke’s argument, Paine sets up the beginning of his argument with “I shall…place another system of principles in opposition to his.” This follows a typical Aristotelian format, where arguments are proceeded by short cues[4] (e.g., a stated intention that the writer will now begin his argument). This Aristotelian format is followed shortly after when Paine supplies two parts to a case he is refuting: “the case, therefore, divides itself into two parts; the right which they [the English Parliament] possessed by delegation, and the right which they set up by assumption.” He goes on to finish the paragraph with “with respect to the second, I reply.” This clear outline of what he is going to tell the reader next is the Aristotelian format.

Paine plans to continue the search and destruction of logical fallacies that Burke has written so confidently. His next one is the right the English Parliament set up by assumption, which is the want to control and bind posterity to “the end of time.” This paragraph is yet another wonderful, rhetorical example of Paine’s writing:

There never did, there never will, and there never can exist a parliament, or any description of men, or any generation of men, in any country, possessed of the right or the power of binding and controlling posterity to the “end of time,” or of commanding for ever how the world shall be governed, or who shall govern it; and therefore, all such clauses, acts or declarations, by which the makers of them attempt to do what they have neither the right nor the power to do, nor the power to execute, are in themselves null and void. (page 41)

Notice the use of anaphora at the beginning of the paragraph. By making every first word “there,” Paine creates emphasis and pulls the reader in. It becomes a memorable and a passionate introduction that sets the pace for the rest of the paragraph. It also closes any type of chance or probability that a parliament can command to the “end of time.” He continues to use anaphora with “or” in the next line, which additionally locks in the impossibility of such a thing happening, completely sealing shut his opinion about the matter. Ending the paragraph with “null and void” adds to the impenetrable fortress of opinion that he has created in writing this. It serves as a full roundabout, coming back full circle, and is an effective rhetorical strategy. The sentence following the paragraph is full of emotion, which builds Paine’s own ethos. Oddly enough, however, Paine’s writing style has consistently avoided excessive emotion, which is something he attacks Burke for later in the treatise. It is important to note, however, that Paine could perhaps be using emotion where it is absolutely needed. In this case, by saying “every age and generation must be as free to act for itself, in all cases, as the ages and generations which proceeded it,” Paine is going after the pathos of the people and the reader. Thus, the emotion put forth in that sentence is needed in order to evoke the patriotism out of the people whose rights have been violated. Therefore, Paine’s use of emotion in his writing is scarce, but when it is present, it is effective and correctly placed and used. The following sentence goes back to his variation of sentence length: “…governing beyond the grave, is the most ridiculous and insolent of all tyrannies.” Paine continues with “man has no property in man,” which is a much shorter sentence, therefore adding to the variation and flow. This also creates more emphasis. Now, the meaning of that last sentence is profound, especially because Paine places it in the right spot so that it can further show the illogical rights the English Parliament had put forth. He uses it as a metaphor to show that every person and generation is, and should be, free of the proceeding person and generation. Paine continually builds his metaphors into a mighty rock, which he immediately uses to crush Burke’s and the English Parliament’s fallacies. His next rhetorical statement is emotional but extremely logical, acting almost as a joke against Burke who is showing a complete lack of common sense: “it is the living, and not the dead, that are to be accommodated.” This ties in well with the overall dispute of opinions between Paine and Burke. By writing this, he is putting down the idea of traditionalism, which he is describing as outdated and absurd, and settling more on the idea of innovation, which takes the best interest of the people to heart.

Paine’s writing falls into the category of forensic discourse, as it inculpates Burke for his errors in thinking. Paine frequently uses Aristotle’s canon of circumstances, specifically possible and impossible, in order to show that certain rights (believed to be true by Burke and the English Parliament) cannot be possible under any circumstances. This is best evident in the argument against “governing beyond the grave.” While Paine’s sentences are periodic, they are functionally interrogative, as well. Paine acts as a prosecutor, interrogating Burke’s writing, and slowly taking away pieces of Burke’s logic, ultimately leaving behind nothing to call a credible argument. While there aren’t many instances where Paine uses inversions in his writing, he does utilize schemes and tropes, specifically anaphora, to add emphasis in his writing. Another example of this is when Paine states that “I am not contending for nor against any form of government, nor for nor against any party here or elsewhere.” In contrast to that sentence, he uses epistrophe when he says “that which a whole nation chooses to do, it has a right to do,” ending each clause with “to do.” This also adds emphasis, as well as it gives the nation more rights and freedom, perhaps more than Burke had ever given in writing his letter. Sentence openers and closers give way to expansion, and how Paine develops his sentences. As described earlier, Paine varies his sentence length because he wants to add variation. Therefore, he pairs long and short sentences together, often achieving a choppy but effective composition. It seems that the location of expansion is in the middle, where Paine puts his longest sentences. These sentences are then enclosed with shorter ones, which could have two meanings: it cocoons the idea in the middle, like a hidden gem, or it is an attempt to have a wide range of different grammatical sentences, thus never resorting to an extreme of only short or only long sentences. Whatever the reason, Paine’s styles and mechanics work when everything is different—it adds a dynamic interaction to his writing. Because Paine writes with such anger and power, his ideas, and in turn sentences, are quick and straightforward. He is able to provide his opinions, metaphors, and references in a well-constructed manner, meaning that the reader is presented with an overwhelming amount of information, but the coherence is never jeopardized.