Every piece of persuasive writing — a speech, a letter to a newspaper, an advert, a charity appeal — is built on two questions you answer before you write a single word. The first is purpose: what do you actually want the reader to do or think by the end? Sign the petition. Change their mind about a school rule. Donate. The second is audience: who is reading, and what already matters to them?
These two questions decide everything else. A letter asking the head teacher to keep the library open late will sound nothing like a leaflet asking pupils to use it — same cause, different audience, so different words. Persuasion is not about sounding clever. It is about working out what would move this particular reader, and then doing exactly that.
Rhetoric is the old art of persuading with language. It comes from the Greek rhētorikē — "the speaker's craft". It does not mean empty or dishonest, although people sometimes use it that way. At its best, rhetoric is simply knowing why some words move people and some don't.
Aristotle, the Greek philosopher, noticed that every convincing argument leans on one or more of three things. He gave them Greek names, and we still use them. They are easier than they sound.
Persuading through character — making the reader trust you. "As a nurse of twenty years…" The reader believes you because of who you are.
Persuading through emotion — making the reader feel something. Pity, hope, anger, pride. The charity advert that shows one child's face is using pathos.
Persuading through reason — facts, figures, clear steps. "Nine out of ten dentists agree…" The reader is convinced because the argument adds up.
The strongest persuasion usually uses all three. A speaker establishes that they can be trusted (ethos), gives you solid reasons (logos), and makes you care about those reasons (pathos). Watch for which one a writer leans on hardest — it tells you a great deal about what they think will move you.
Aristotle wrote a whole book called Rhetoric around 350 BC, and it is still set reading on persuasion courses today — more than two thousand three hundred years later. Almost every "how to write a great speech" guide you will ever read is, underneath, a retelling of Aristotle.
Underneath the three pillars sit the actual moves — the techniques you can name and use. Here are seven of the most common. Read each example aloud; you will recognise every one of them.
A question asked for effect, not for an answer — it pulls the reader into agreeing with you.
"How much longer are we going to wait?"
Three items, or three beats, in a row. Three feels complete and lands in the memory; two feels thin, four feels like a list.
"Education, education, education." · "Friends, Romans, countrymen."
Speaking straight to the reader as "you" — it makes the argument personal and hard to ignore.
"You can change this. You, reading this, right now."
Words chosen for the feeling they carry, not just their meaning. "Abandoned" hits harder than "left".
"A frightened, hungry dog, abandoned at the roadside."
A short, true-sounding little story about one person. One real face persuades more than a thousand numbers.
"Last winter, a boy named Sam walked three miles to school in the snow, because…"
Numbers and hard evidence — the backbone of logos. They make a feeling feel like a fact.
"Two in every three pupils said they would use a late-opening library."
Naming the other side's point — then answering it. It makes you sound fair and confident, not one-sided.
"Some will say it costs too much. But the cost of doing nothing is far higher."
The rule of three is so deep in how we hear language that it shapes jokes, slogans and fairy tales alike — three little pigs, three billy goats, three wishes. Comedians call the third beat the "punch": you set up a pattern with the first two, then break it with the third. Persuasion and comedy use the very same machinery.
A short, clear explainer on ethos, pathos and logos. As you watch, try to catch one everyday example of each — an advert, a politician, a friend talking you into something — and notice which pillar it leans on hardest.
Here is a famous moment of persuasion: the closing of a wartime speech. Read it once for the feeling. Then read it again and watch the devices — the highlights point them out.
"We shall go on to the end. We shall fight in France, we shall fight on the seas and oceans, we shall fight with growing confidence and growing strength in the air, we shall defend our island, whatever the cost may be. We shall fight on the beaches, we shall fight on the landing grounds, we shall fight in the fields and in the streets, we shall fight in the hills; we shall never surrender."
Churchill rehearsed his speeches obsessively, often out loud in the bath, and he wrote them out in a strange ragged layout he called "psalm form" — broken into short lines like poetry, so he could see the rhythm and the breaths on the page. He was designing the sound, not just the words.
Six short lines, each using one device you have just met. Read each one and choose the technique it is using. There is no score and no rush — this is for your eye, not a mark book. The note underneath tells you why.
A short clip of a real persuasive speech. As you watch, keep a tally in your head: where does the speaker use a rule of three? Where do they speak straight to "you"? Where do they hand you a number? You will be surprised how many you catch.
Fresh one. Ethos is trust and logos is reason. What is the Greek name for the pillar that persuades through emotion — pity, hope, anger, pride?
Pick one of these, or invent your own — something you genuinely have a view on:
One strong paragraph — six to ten sentences. Try to use at least three devices on purpose: a rhetorical question, a rule of three, and one of emotive language, a statistic, an anecdote or a counter-argument. Lean on at least two of the three pillars. 100–150 words is plenty, Florence.
strong Where you used a device on purpose — a rule of three, a question that pulls the reader in — the writing picks up a real drive. That deliberate control is exactly what persuasion is.
try this Read it back and name each device in the margin. If you find three or more, you are persuading; if you find only one, pick a sentence and turn it into a rhetorical question or a tripling.
to add One counter-argument — "some will say… but…" — would lift this a level. Naming the other side and answering it makes you sound fair, and fair writers are the hardest to argue with.
A short film to watch alongside today's lesson.
You know the two questions every persuasive writer starts with — purpose and audience. You know Aristotle's three pillars, ethos, pathos and logos, and you can name the seven devices that hang beneath them. Best of all, you can now see these moves being made — in a speech, an advert, a friend talking you round. That is the real gift of rhetoric: it lets you persuade well, and it stops you being persuaded by anyone who doesn't deserve it.