Diatribe Examples

A diatribe is a harshly critical speech or piece of writing. Someone who engages in diatribe often expresses strong emotion and discontent related to a person, thing, or idea.

1. A coach who is disappointed in how his players performed at practice gives a long, critical speech to them at the end of practice about their lack of motivation and effort.
2. A parent gives a harsh lecture to a teenager about the teen's lack of work ethic and lack of appreciation of the things the parent does for the teen.
3. A citizen who is upset about the potential development of a new subdivision on her rural street writes a letter to the editor that harshly criticizes the town council for approving the subdivision without considering whether or not the infrastructure (traffic patterns, schools) can support the additional population.

Examples of Diatribe from Literature

Joseph Conrad's Heart of Darkness is harshly critical of British imperialism and the effects on Africa. Here is an excerpt:

But these chaps were not much account, really. They were no colonists; their administration was merely a squeeze, and nothing more, I suspect. They were conquerors, and for that you want only brute force--nothing to boast of, when you have it, since your strength is just an accident arising from the weakness of others. They grabbed what they could get for the sake of what was to be got. It was just robbery with violence, aggravated murder on a great scale, and men going at it blind --as is very proper for those who tackle a darkness. The conquest of the earth, which mostly means the taking it away from those who have a different complexion or slightly flatter noses than ourselves, is not a pretty thing when you look into it too much.

In Shakespeare's Hamlet, Laertes engages in a diatribe against Hamlet as he warns Ophelia not to accept his romantic advances:

For Hamlet and the trifling of his favour,
Hold it a fashion and a toy in blood,
A violet in the youth of primy nature,
Forward, not permanent, sweet, not lasting,
The perfume and suppliance of a minute; No more . . .
Think it no more;
For nature, crescent, does not grow alone
In thews and bulk, but, as this temple waxes,
The inward service of the mind and soul
Grows wide withal. Perhaps he loves you now,
And now no soil nor cautel doth besmirch
The virtue of his will: but you must fear,
His greatness weigh'd, his will is not his own;
For he himself is subject to his birth:
He may not, as unvalued persons do,
Carve for himself; for on his choice depends
The safety and health of this whole state;
And therefore must his choice be circumscribed
Unto the voice and yielding of that body
Whereof he is the head. Then if he says he loves you,
It fits your wisdom so far to believe it
As he in his particular act and place
May give his saying deed; which is no further
Than the main voice of Denmark goes withal.
Then weigh what loss your honour may sustain,
If with too credent ear you list his songs,
Or lose your heart, or your chaste treasure open
To his unmaster'd importunity.
Fear it, Ophelia, fear it, my dear sister,
And keep you in the rear of your affection,
Out of the shot and danger of desire.
The chariest maid is prodigal enough,
If she unmask her beauty to the moon:
Virtue itself 'scapes not calumnious strokes:
The canker galls the infants of the spring,
Too oft before their buttons be disclosed,
And in the morn and liquid dew of youth
Contagious blastments are most imminent.
Be wary then; best safety lies in fear:
Youth to itself rebels, though none else near.