Question

Years ago, a professor who thought he had developed an uncontrovertible scientific premise submitted it to his faculty associates. Quickly they picked it apart. In agony he cried out, “Is nothing eternal?” To this one of his associates replied, “Nothing is eternal except change.”

Since the act of 1875 on public accommodations and the Supreme Court decision of 1883 which struck it down, America has changed. The population then was 45 million. Today it is 190 million. In the Pledge of Allegiance to the Flag we intone, “One nation, under God.” And so it is. It is an integrated nation. Air, rail, and highway transportation make it so. A common language makes it so. A tax pattern which applies equally to white and nonwhite makes it so. Literacy makes it so. The mobility provided by eighty million autos makes it so. The accommodations laws in thirty-four states and the District of Columbia makes it so. The fair employment practice laws in thirty states make it so. Yes, our land has changed since the Supreme Court decision of 1883.

As Lincoln once observed:

The occasion is piled high with difficulty and we must rise with the occasion. As our case is new, so we must think anew and act anew. We must first disenthrall ourselves and then we shall save the Union.

To my friends from the South, I would refresh you on the words of a great Georgian named Henry W. Grady.1 On December 22, 1886, he was asked to respond to a toast to the new South at the New England society dinner. His words were dramatic and explosive. He began his toast by saying:

There was a South of slavery and secession—that South is dead. There is a South of union and freedom—that South thank God is living, breathing, growing every hour.

America grows. America changes. And on the civil rights issue we must rise with the occasion. That calls for cloture and for the enactment of a civil rights bill.

Third [reason for a civil rights bill]. There is another reason—our covenant with the people. For many years, each political party has given major consideration to a civil rights plank in its platform. Go back and reexamine our pledges to the country as we sought the suffrage of the people and for a grant of authority to manage and direct their affairs. Were these pledges so much campaign stuff or did we mean it? Were these promises on civil rights but idle words for vote-getting purposes or were they a covenant meant to be kept? If all this was mere pretense, let us confess the sin of hypocrisy now and vow not to delude the people again.

To you, my Republican colleagues, let me refresh you on the words of a great American. His name is Herbert Hoover.2 In his day he was reviled and maligned. He was castigated and calumniated. But today his views and his judgment stand vindicated at the bar of history. In 1952 he received a volcanic welcome as he appeared before our national convention in Chicago. On that occasion he commented on the Whig party, predecessor of the Republican party, and said:

The Whig party temporized, compromised upon the issue of freedom for the Negro. That party disappeared. It deserved to disappear. Shall the Republican party receive or deserve any better fate if it compromises upon the issue of freedom for all men?

To those who have charged me with doing a disservice to my party because of my interest in the enactment of a good civil rights bill—and there have been a good many who have made that charge—I can only say that our party found its faith in the Declaration of Independence in which a great Democrat, Jefferson by name, wrote the flaming words:

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal.

That has been the living faith of our party. Do we forsake this article of faith, now that equality’s time has come or do we stand up for it and insure the survival of our party and its ultimate victory? There is no substitute for a basic and righteous idea. We have a duty—a firm duty—to use the instruments at hand—namely, the cloture rule—to bring about the enactment of a good civil rights bill.

Write an essay that analyzes the rhetorical choices Dirksen makes to achieve his purpose of persuading his fellow senators to enact cloture and support the civil rights bill.

Answer 1

Charles Dirksen’s speech is a model of targeted, calculated rhetoric: he fuses moral urgency, factual demonstration, partisan loyalty, and appeals to precedent in order to persuade fellow senators — especially hesitant Republicans and Southerners — to invoke cloture and enact a civil‑rights bill. His choices about structure, diction, and invoked authorities repeatedly work to remove excuses for inaction and reframe support for the bill as both principled and practical.

Framing and opening anecdote: change as unavoidable
Dirksen opens with a short parable about a professor who believed in an “uncontrovertible scientific premise” only to have it dismantled; the reply, “Nothing is eternal except change,” provides the organizing metaphor. That anecdote does two things: it deflates claims of fixed political or legal orthodoxy (so previous jurisprudence or social arrangements are not immutable) and it establishes the theme of adaptation. By starting with a vivid, memorable exchange he primes his audience to accept that laws and policies must reflect changed realities.

Logos: evidence of a transformed nation
He then supplies concrete, quantifiable, and observable evidence to support the claim that America has changed since 1875–1883: population growth (45 million to 190 million), integrated transportation systems (air, rail, highways), a common language, equal tax patterns, literacy, widespread automobile mobility, and a patchwork of state accommodations and fair‑employment laws. These items are not abstract moral claims but empirical indicators of national integration; the cumulative listing (anaphora and parallelism: “Air, rail, and highway… A common language… A tax pattern… Literacy… The mobility… The accommodations laws… The fair employment practice laws…”) builds a logical case that the social conditions that once sustained separation no longer exist. The practical implication he wants his colleagues to see is explicit: legal and parliamentary machinery (cloture) should now match the lived reality.

Ethos: authoritative voices and partisan loyalty
Dirksen buttresses his credibility by aligning himself with revered authorities across the political spectrum. He invokes Lincoln — “The occasion is piled high with difficulty and we must rise with the occasion” — thereby connecting civil‑rights action to national survival and high moral leadership. To Southern colleagues he cites Henry W. Grady’s dramatic antithesis — “There was a South of slavery and secession—that South is dead. There is a South of union and freedom—that South thank God is living” — an appeal intended to reduce Southern resistance by reminding them that their region has itself redefined its identity. To appeal to his Republican colleagues, he quotes Herbert Hoover’s warning about the fate of parties that compromise on freedom (the Whigs), transforming support for civil rights into an act of party preservation. Finally, he recalls Jefferson and the Declaration — “We hold these truths… that all men are created equal” — tying the measure to his party’s professed founding creed.

This deployment of cross‑temporal authorities does two rhetorical jobs: it creates a sense of continuity between the civil‑rights bill and the party’s historical identity, and it neutralizes partisan attacks by showing that support for the bill is orthogonal to factional advantage — it is faithful to the party’s principles.

Pathos: moral language and fear of hypocrisy or extinction
Dirksen does not rely on logic alone; he brings moral weight to his appeal. Phrases such as “our covenant with the people,” “sin of hypocrisy,” and “equality’s time has come” frame the debate as an ethical test of political integrity. He challenges senators to ask whether campaign promises were “mere pretense,” converting failure to act into moral failing. He also invokes a fear of political extinction: Hoover’s image of the Whig party that “disappeared” if it compromised becomes a warning that the Republican party could similarly be punished by history and the electorate. Thus Dirksen mixes positive aspiration (honoring a covenant) with negative consequence (hypocrisy, party decline) to create emotional pressure for action.

Strategic audience adaptation and rhetoric of inclusion
Dirksen repeatedly addresses specific audiences within the Senate — “To my friends from the South,” “To you, my Republican colleagues” — which personalizes the argument and signals respect for differing perspectives. He uses inclusive first‑person plural pronouns (“we,” “our”) to make the action collective and to lower defensive barriers. His language toward Southerners is conciliatory (reminding them of a “South of union and freedom”), while his language toward Republicans is admonitory but loyal, emphasizing fidelity to party ideals rather than betrayal. This calibrated approach reduces alienation and invites cooperation.

Kairos and exigency: the need to “think anew”
Dirksen invokes Lincoln’s line about a “new case” requiring that “we must think anew and act anew,” thereby asserting the timeliness (kairos) of cloture now. Ending with a clear instrumental call — “We have a duty—a firm duty—to use the instruments at hand—namely, the cloture rule—to bring about the enactment of a good civil rights bill” — turns the philosophical and moral argument into a concrete legislative prescription. He demystifies cloture by framing it as simply an available tool that must be used to fulfill obligations already identified.

Rhetorical techniques and style
Dirksen favors antithesis and parallelism (dead/living South; then/now lists), rhetorical questions (“Is nothing eternal?”), repetition (“America grows. America changes.”), and moral diction (“covenant,” “sin,” “freedom,” “equality”) to make his points memorable and forceful. His mixture of statistics, anecdote, historical quotation, and moral summons creates a multi‑pronged appeal that leaves opponents little safe ground: logic shows change, history shows precedent, morality shows obligation, and party loyalty shows self‑interest converge on the same action.

Conclusion: integrated appeals focused on action
Overall Dirksen’s rhetoric is effective because it converges multiple persuasive strategies on a single, concrete request: invoke cloture to pass a civil‑rights bill. By demonstrating changed social conditions, invoking authoritative exemplars, naming moral responsibility, and tying the outcome to the Republican party’s survival, he reduces principled objections and reframes support for the bill as the most faithful, pragmatic, and honorable course. The speech’s careful audience targeting — conciliatory to the South, exigent to Republicans — increases its prospects for success by making the legislative step not merely preferable but necessary.