One of my best friends is a university professor of chemistry. Last Saturday, he took his youngest down to Walgreens to receive her first dose of the Covid-19 vaccination. Never one to miss the opportunity to pick a scientist’s brain, I asked how he engages with people who are vaccine-hesitant or even anti-vax. I prepared myself for a litany of facts and citations delivered with the authority of a tenured professor. His answer surprised me.
He began with a Greek lesson. “The three traditional modes of persuasion are ethos (credibility), logos (proof), and pathos (values).” My friend went on to tell me that scientists tend to overestimate their own ethos and the power of their logos to convince most folks. “What we seem to forget, however, is that p-values (scientific probability relating to test results) mean very little to a parent who might have read online about a supposed terrible side effect from a shot.”
His argument to me was that we need more pathos in our persuasion. He begins by sharing his gratitude that his whole house will soon be fully vaccinated, sharing his relief that his daughter will be better protected from a deadly virus while at school; these feelings, associated with shared values like protecting family and children, are the “arguments” he has found most effective when advocating for the safety, efficacy, and essentialness of vaccinations.
And that was when it hit me: what I had wanted was a scientific smack-down, a barrage of data and statistics that would humiliate an anti-vaxer and give me a feeling of superiority. Frankly, not my proudest moment.
What my friend offered me was a picture empathy and kindness in the face of disagreement; he focused not on winning the argument, but rather on helping a fellow human make healthy choices that benefit themselves, their children, and society.
In the New Testament book of John, there is the story of a woman caught in adultery (the fact that it takes two to commit adultery and only the woman is facing consequences is a patriarchal problem that deserves its own article). The woman is brought before a mob that intents to exact extrajudicial “justice” by humiliating her and then publicly executing her.
Before the gathered can carry out their plan, Jesus enters the scene. With a few well chosen words he redirects the horde from a sense of self-righteousness and rage to self-reflection and repentance. Then he does the one thing no one in the rabble had thought to do—he addresses the woman directly, like the beloved child of God she is. Saving her from execution by the throng, Jesus tells her that she’s not condemned by her actions and he invites her to a better life.
My professor friend’s disposition toward kindness and empathy is a reflection of the kindness and grace that Jesus showed to the woman and it is an invitation to me and to each of us to recognize the value—and effectiveness—of addressing disagreement or conflict with a bit more pathos.
Rev. Robby Olson is a Presbyterian pastor in Watsonville. His views are his own and not necessarily those of the Pajaronian.
