Pathos...With a Little Bit of Logos

It was fairly impossible for Wiesel to use anything but pathos in his speeches. The man had lived through hell, lost most of his family, and then dedicated his life to exposing the horrors of the Holocaust over and over.

Basically, even if Wiesel had made his speech in list form, pathos would have been part of the equation. And since Wiesel was an immensely eloquent man and a talented public speaker, pathos is front and center in "The Perils of Indifference."

"The Perils of Indifference" is supposed to make you wonder how it's possible that we didn't learn anything from the Holocaust. It's supposed to make you horrified that millions of people are still dying due to genocide and ethnic cleansing. You're supposed to feel heartbroken for the young Jewish boy at the beginning and end of his speech, the kid who saw such horrible things and believed, on the day of his liberation, that the world would learn from what he'd been through.

Wiesel believes that indifference, "after all, is more dangerous than anger or hatred" (51) because it's not an active emotion. It's the exact opposite—when you're indifferent to someone, you just ignore what they're going through. He wants the audience to be really affected by what they hear because that is when they will do something: stand up, fight back, and choose not to be indifferent.

And because he was brilliant, he makes the listeners do most of the work.

Sure, Wiesel wrote the speech and had to stand up in front of a room full of important government folks. But for most of it, he just lays out the facts.

He talks about civil wars, world wars, assassinations, border disputes, genocide, ethnic cleansing—and that's just in line 17.

He also touches on a few not-so-shiny moments for the good ol' U.S. of A., like that time FDR and the American government turned away a ship full of Jewish refugees. And that time U.S. corporations continued to do business with Hitler even after Pearl Harbor.

Yeah, it's about here that your sadness should be mixed with a bit of guilt.

Wiesel wants the audience to be uncomfortable, wants them to feel a mix of grief and remorse, so that when he starts asking the tough—and rhetorical—questions, they'll really take the time to think about them:

Does this mean that we have learned from the past? Does it mean that society has changed? Has the human being become less indifferent and more human? Have we really learned from our experiences? Are we less insensitive to the plight of victims of ethnic cleansing and other forms of injustices in places near and far? Is today's justified intervention in Kosovo, led by you, Mr. President, a lasting warning that never again will the deportation, the terrorization of children and their parents, be allowed anywhere in the world? Will it discourage other dictators in other lands to do the same? (107-113)

Wiesel isn't going to provide an answer, and he doesn't. So, now it's up to the audience to decide, and to take action and choose not to be indifferent so society really will change.