Aporia: The Art of Uncertainty

Tonight’s device is one I love because it feels human.

It’s called aporia.

GEORGE:
Master Shakespeare, I’m going to pronounce it and then stare at you like a student: uh-PORE-ee-uh.

SHAKESPEARE (approving):
Aye. A word that already sounds uncertain—fit for its purpose.

GEORGE:
Listeners—plain definition:

Aporia is when a speaker expresses doubt or uncertainty—real or performed—often as a way to think out loud, invite the audience in, or make a point feel more honest.

In other words: “I’m not sure… but let’s consider this.”

SHAKESPEARE:
Aye. Doubt as a doorway.

GEORGE:
Now—because I promised repetition and accomplishment—

Pop Quiz Corner (10 seconds):
Which one is aporia?

A) “This is definitely the right answer.”
B) “I’m not sure what the right answer is… but let’s look at it together.”

SHAKESPEARE (dry):
If they choose A, they may apply for a job in politics.

GEORGE:
Yes — B. The doubt is the device.

Transcript

First I went to apologize to you for not being here for a few days in conversations with Shakespeare. It turns out that I now have a finger tips that are excruciatingly painful due to overuse of those fingers. I am using Voice control on the Macintosh more and more, and started using rubber fingertips on my hands when I'm using the mouse or typing. It looks really weird because the rubber fingertips are so realistic they look like they came from some kind of corpse but I can assure you they are definitely rubber - although they still look kinda creepy.

Again I don't wanna overload you with rhetorical devices, SO I'll just stick with one and that is aporia - APORIA - the art of not knowing.

GEORGE (Host):
Lantern lit! Curtain up!
Welcome back to Conversations with Shakespeare—where we are not trying to memorize a thousand rhetorical devices. We’re learning a handful—well enough to recognize them, well enough to enjoy them, well enough to feel that little pop-quiz victory in our bones.

Tonight’s device is one I love because it feels human.

It’s called aporia.

GEORGE:
Master Shakespeare, I’m going to pronounce it and then stare at you like a student: uh-PORE-ee-uh.

SHAKESPEARE (approving):
Aye. A word that already sounds uncertain—fit for its purpose.

GEORGE:
Listeners—plain definition:

Aporia is when a speaker expresses doubt or uncertainty—real or performed—often as a way to think out loud, invite the audience in, or make a point feel more honest.

In other words: “I’m not sure… but let’s consider this.”

SHAKESPEARE:
Aye. Doubt as a doorway.

GEORGE: to a man who wants to stab a friend and still feel Noble about it    
Now—because I promised repetition and accomplishment—

Pop Quiz Corner (10 seconds):
Which one is aporia?

A) “This is definitely the right answer.”
B) “I’m not sure what the right answer is… but let’s look at it together.”

SHAKESPEARE (dry):
If they choose A, they may apply for a job in politics.

GEORGE:
Yes — B. The doubt is the device.

Now, Master Shakespeare—where do you use aporia?

SHAKESPEARE:
Where do I not?
I wrote a prince whose chief occupation is uncertainty.

GEORGE:
Hamlet.

SHAKESPEARE:
Hamlet.

GEORGE:
But I don’t want this to become “Hamlet all day, every day.” Give us a crisp example—something that clearly acts like aporia.

SHAKESPEARE:
Then let us go to Julius Caesar, to a man who wishes to stab a friend and still feel noble about it.

GEORGE:
Brutus.

SHAKESPEARE:
Aye. He turns to the crowd and performs a kind of doubt—he weighs himself aloud:

Romans, countrymen, and lovers! hear me for my
cause, and be silent, that you may hear: believe me
for mine honour, and have respect to mine honour, that
you may believe: censure me in your wisdom, and
awake your senses, that you may the better judge.
If there be any in this assembly, any dear friend of
Caesar's, to him I say, that Brutus' love to Caesar
was no less than his. If then that friend demand
why Brutus rose against Caesar, this is my answer:
--Not that I loved Caesar less, but that I loved
Rome more. Had you rather Caesar were living and
die all slaves, than that Caesar were dead, to live
all free men? As Caesar loved me, I weep for him;
as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was
valiant, I honour him: but, as he was ambitious, I
slew him. There is tears for his love; joy for his
fortune; honour for his valour; and death for his
ambition. Who is here so base that would be a
bondman? If any, speak; for him have I offended.
Who is here so rude that would not be a Roman? If
any, speak; for him have I offended. Who is here so
vile that will not love his country? If any, speak;
for him have I offended. I pause for a reply.

(he justifies, he balances love and duty, he frames his choice as rational)

The speech leans on uncertainty—not ignorance, but the posture of a man struggling to explain the unexplainable.

GEORGE:
So aporia isn’t always “I don’t know” in a clueless way. It can be “I’m torn.” Or “How can I even say this?”

SHAKESPEARE:
Exactly. Aporia is the sound of the mind at work.

GEORGE:
Okay, but give us the cleanest, simplest version: the speaker openly doubts and the audience leans in.

SHAKESPEARE:
Then take Hamlet—where doubt is a weather system:

“To be, or not to be…”

Whether you name it aporia or not, the line is a public weighing of an unanswerable matter.

GEORGE:
It’s not merely a question. It’s a mind balancing on a wire.

SHAKESPEARE:
Aye. Aporia says: I am not pretending life is simple.
And the audience thinks: At last—someone truthful.

GEORGE:
That’s powerful for a podcast too. When you admit uncertainty—carefully—you sound more trustworthy, not less.

SHAKESPEARE:
Carefully, yes. For there is a false doubt that smells of manipulation.

GEORGE:
Ah! That’s important. So aporia can be honest… or it can be a trick.

SHAKESPEARE:
Indeed. Aporia is a tool. A tool can build a house—or pick a lock.

GEORGE:
All right—tell us what aporia does on stage.

SHAKESPEARE:
Three things.

GEORGE:
Of course.

SHAKESPEARE:
First: it creates intimacy—the speaker seems to confide in you.
Second: it creates tension—because uncertainty makes the audience wait.
Third: it creates credibility—because confident lies are easy; honest struggle is harder.

GEORGE:
So aporia is the device of: “Let me show you my thinking.”

SHAKESPEARE:
Yes. And audiences love seeing thought happen in real time.

GEORGE:
Workshop time. Give us three rules for using aporia without sounding like you’re rambling.

SHAKESPEARE:
Gladly.

Rule one: The doubt must be specific, not vague.
Rule two: The doubt must be brief—a moment, not a swamp.
Rule three: The doubt must lead somewhere—toward a decision, a revelation, a moral turn.

GEORGE:
So: don’t wallow. Use doubt as a bridge.

SHAKESPEARE:
Exactly. Aporia is a pause on the path, not the whole journey.

GEORGE:
All right, I’m going to try one.

“Do I want to be comforting tonight… or do I want to be honest? Because sometimes the honest thing is the comforting thing.”

SHAKESPEARE:
Very good. The doubt is real. The turn is clean. And it reveals character.

GEORGE:
Let me try another—more playful:

“I’m tempted to call this episode ‘The Art of Not Knowing’… but if I do that, people may assume I’m talking about my tech skills.”

SHAKESPEARE (laughing):
That is aporia with comedy. Doubt used as a wink.

GEORGE:
Pop Quiz Corner, one more—quick.

Which line uses aporia?

A) “Here is the answer.”
B) “I can’t decide whether this is the answer… but listen: here’s what I’m seeing.”

SHAKESPEARE:
B.

GEORGE:
Yes! If you got it right, you just earned another little badge in your rhetorical toolkit.

Now, Master Shakespeare—what’s the danger? When does aporia annoy the audience?

SHAKESPEARE:
When doubt becomes performance without purpose.
When the speaker pretends not to know what he plainly knows.
Or when the uncertainty never resolves into meaning.
Aporia must feel like thought, not theater.

GEORGE:
That’s a great line: thought, not theater.
Or maybe—thought as theater, when it’s honest.

SHAKESPEARE:
Now you sound like a playwright again.

GEORGE:
Friends, that’s aporia: expressed doubt—real or performed—to draw the audience close, create tension, and make the thinking feel human.
And the whole point of this series is not to intimidate you with terminology. It’s to give you moments where you can say, with confidence:
“Hey—I know what that is.”

Master Shakespeare, permit me to say good night

SHAKESPEARE:
Good night, sir.

MUSIC: swell 5 seconds, then fade out.