Autism Vox

Epitasis and Aposiopesis: On Dan Olmsted’s rhetoric

by Kristina Chew, PhD on January 10th, 2007

“Epitasis” is a term from classical rhetoric that is the “addition of a concluding sentence that merely emphasizes what has already been stated”; it is a “kind of amplification,” in which the speaker redefines and even self-interprets what he has previously said. (The Greek word epitasis means “a stretching”; see Silva Rhetoricae: The Forest of Rhetoric.) An example would be

“Clean your bedroom. All of it.”

Figaro of Figures of Speech served fresh refers to epitasis as the “add-on figure” and uses a phrases from Rep. John Boehner, R-Ohio:

“Listen, we’re broke. Let’s face it.”

The context is the Rep. calling for “budget cuts in student loans, health care, food stamps, and foster care”; go here to read a snappy comeback.

Here are a few more examples culled from a journalist who writes about the Age of Autism .

“However, I recognize that there is much that we do not know about the biological pathways and origins of this disorder, and that further investigation into all possible causes of autism is needed.”

“That means, Do it.”

The journalist is UPI’s Dan Olmsted and these two paragraphs are taken from The Age of Autism: A new environment (January 9th); Olmsted’s monosyllabic epitasis (”That means, Do it”) nicely contrasts with the rather Latinate (”origins,” “disorder,” “investigation,” “possible,” “causes”) diction of the first paragraph: If you didn’t get what he mean, This Is It.

(Get it?)

Here is another example of epitasis from Olmsted’s The Age of Autism: What Newsweek missed (November 20):

“When NIMH’s Insel went looking for cases in the 1980s, it seems autism was still pretty rare. It’s not anymore — as Newsweek points out, disorders on the autism “spectrum” now afflict as many as 1 in 166 children. Note: children.”

Again, Olmsted uses a monosyllabic word (”note”) to make sure we got the point: He is talking about children. Get it?: children. The next phrase strikes me as an epitasis of the epitasis (an epi-epitasis?):

“…as Newsweek points out, disorders on the autism “spectrum” now afflict as many as 1 in 166 children. Note: children. Where are the 1 in 166 autistic adults?

The question (which I would think a rhetorical question or “erotema”) has the effect of driving in one of Olmsted’s familiar points, that there is an “epidemic of autism” among today’s children rather than yesterday’s as the latter would be today’s adults and where are those 1 in 166 autistic adults? (I ask this question not rhetorically, but in earnest, but “where the 1 in 166 autistic adults are” is a topic for another day.)

A third passage from Olmsted’s November 9th The Age of Autism: Still’s and Pink’s uses an epitasis and, even more, another rhetorical figure, “aposiopesis,” (pronounced “a-pos-i-o-pee’-sis”, from the Greek aposiopao, “I am silent after speaking”) in which “a speaker comes to an abrupt halt, seemingly overcome by passion (fear, excitement, etc.) or modesty” (see Kentucky Classics and also Silva Rhetoricae: The Forest of Rhetoric). Here is one example from the 4th century Greek orator Demosthenes, from his speech “On the Crown“:

Among many advantages which Aeschines holds over me in this contention, there are two, men of Athens, of great moment. In the first place, I have a larger stake on the issue; for the loss of your favor is far more serious to me than the loss of your verdict to him. For me, indeed—but let me say nothing inauspicious at the outset of my speech: I will only say that he accuses me at an advantage.

Demosthenes begins a thought with “for me, indeed” and then starts to qualify just why he has a “larger stake in the issue” but then abruptly stops short; his next phrase (”let me say nothing inauspicious at the outset of my speech”) hints that what he had to say was nothing too good. (Also see the “Quos ego” at line 135 in Book I of Virgil’s Aeneid, in which the sea god Neptune chides—berates—the winds for creating a storm on the sea without his bidding—Who I………….. says the glowering god.)

This is from Olmsted’s The Age of Autism: Still’s and Pink’s:

“Because Donald’s was the first case of autism ever formally diagnosed, trying to estimate its prevalence at the time is no easy thing. Suffice it to say that autistic children were rare; let’s use the widely accepted early figure of 1 in 10,000 children (it’s more like 40 per 10,000 today).

“Now, how rare is Still’s disease? It looks to be even rarer, but for simplicity’s sake let’s put it at 1 in 10,000 as well. Doing the math — 10,000 times 10,000 — suggests that having the two separate disorders just by chance is a 1-in-a-billion shot. Effectively, Donald would have been the only person in America in 1947 who just happened to have both.

“And on top of that, he’s autism’s Case 1?

“Oh, brother. This does not compute.”

Olmsted has already told us in the first quoted paragraph that “Donald’s was the first case of autism ever formally diagnosed”; in the intervening sentences he makes a case for Donald having an even rare disease, Still’s. The various figures mentioned in the second paragraph and the computation of “10,000 times 10,000″ which the reader is supposed to perform set up the fourth paragraph with its vernacular language. Olmsted’s “Oh, brother” is like Demosthenes’ “for me, indeed—–” and Virgil’s “who I………”: These phrases stop the flow of words and thought short; the reader (or listener, in the ancient world of Demosthenes and of Virgil) is abruptly pulled out of thinking about how many zeroes are in 10,000 times 10,000 and how Donald’s was indeed the first case officially to be diagnosed with autism and how to put all that together with this other disease called Still’s or Pink’s. With “oh brother,” it almost seems as if the writer has thrown up his hands at the whole enterprise: It just does not all add up!. (To follow the digital analogy in “this does not compute,” we seem to have a system error going on here: Call the help desk.)

Figaro of Figures of Speech served fresh notes that epitasis “supplements a point with a sentence that adds emphasis rather than meaning.” Indeed, Olmsted’s Age of Autism series returns again and again to the same topics: He has continually called for investigation into an autism-vaccine link, stated that there is an epidemic of autism, and noted that earlier evidence suggests that autism and “a rare and mysterious autoimmune disorder,” Still’s disease, may be connected. Epitasis thus serves Olmsted well as, by “stretching out” what one sentence, and one article, are saying into the next and by adding on phrases of similar meaning but different wording (”…..disorders on the autism “spectrum” now afflict as many as 1 in 166 children. Note: children. Where are the 1 in 166 autistic adults?”), Olmsted is able to continue to make the same points about autism—namely, that autism is an epidemic affecting today’s children that has potentially been caused by vaccines or by mercury or by some environmental agent, and that the truth about all this is not being revealed by some institution or agency (of the government).

But why keep stretching out the——

But let me say nothing inauspicious at the conclusion of this post.

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