The Metaphor: Sincere Expression of Perception or Pathetic Utterance Amidst Self-Delusion?

The poor metaphor in this week’s readings of Buck, Nietzsche and Balliff goes from mediocre, to worse to non-existent.

Buck discusses her three classifications of metaphor as radical, poetic and plain statement. For the most part, she is critical of the metaphor, noting that it often is made “cheap and tawdry” (35) in its artificial use by authors creating bad art or dishonest rhetors trying create a certain effect on listeners. However, she does allow for some genuine poetic metaphor when it truly is a statement about two elements perceived by the rhetor’s mind as one, which she believes is “psychological defensible” (43).

However, Nietzsche would say this is hopeless and the distinctions between good and bad metaphor moot. He sees all language as metaphor, or “arbitrary assignments” (1173) of words and therefore, man is incapable of ever obtaining truth. “We believe that we know something about the things themselves…and yet we possess nothing but metaphors for things – metaphors which correspond in no way to the original entities” (1174). Nietzsche views our reality as so anthropomorphic-centered that it is impossible for us to reach beyond our own perceptions.

I think the effort to do so is what Michelle Balliff is attempting with her model of a Third Sophistic, posthumanist transrhetorical Cyborg. She wants us to take control of reality, to “stretch the borders of language” (184) and “be a perpetual engagement with difference” (191). She encourages the rhetor to shake off this present metaphorical existence by stepping out of his/her historical context, power structure and epistemological framework or to produce “writing whose speed surpasses the consumptive appetite of abstractions, concepts and reasons” (193). Whether such a creature/action is possible is another argument, but if so, I think it might even cheer up Nietzsche.

Kairos and Justice

In his effort to revive the concept of kairos among rhetoricians, Kinneavy elaborates on its ethical dimension and its close relation to justice. His explanation calls to mind the current volatile situation with several European newspapers publishing cartoons reflecting poorly on the prophet Mohammad and in response, the riots of Muslim citizens in various cities worldwide. The debate has been raised as to whether the freedom of speech and the press makes it acceptable or justifiable to publish the cartoons that some find insulting and degrading to a religious figure. Yet others are questioning whether the press has a responsibility for consequences of their rhetoric. I believe Kinneavy would agree with the latter.

He recalls how Plato used “proper measure” and “right time” to construct a doctrine of virtue “as the mean between two extremes (excess and deficiency)” (227). Kinneavy also suggests that these two characteristics come into play in examining the kairos of rhetoric. In this example, we can see that these are legitimate questions for the newspapers, as they created and published their cartoons. What is the proper measure for the situation? How much is too much? When does the satirical cross the line into being insulting? What is the right time to make this statement? In the midst of a U.S.-led war in Iraq, with newly-elected leadership of Hamas and with an Israeli leader who is gravely ill, when the political situation of the Middle East is quite unstable?

Kinneavy is right to emphasize that composition classrooms are a proper place for ethics to be taught – especially when they are incorporated into the major of each student. Likely he would question whether these journalists had benefited from classes incorporating such lessons. He notes that many classes (in science, technology, etc.) leave the lessons on ethics for other classes. He encourages teachers of rhetoric to take up that challenge. “No one can abrogate his or her own responsibilities and leave morality to the philosophers and or theologians” (234).

The Rhetorical Situation

After reading the interlocking, overlapping and conflicting articles by Bitzer, Vatz and Consigny, I feel like we’ve heard a full spectrum of opinions on the rhetorical situation (which probably means it’s just the tip of the iceberg). I’m not sure I can fully articulate his explanation of the difference between topic as an instrument and a realm, but I do appreciate that Consigny gives us a middle ground between Bitzer and Vatz.

Although I probably learn more toward Bitzer in his understanding that a thing or event has an intrinsic meaning, I understand Vatz’s intent to elevate rhetoric “to the supreme discipline it deserves to be” (466) by concentrating on meaning as a creative act.

But I like the pro-active attitude of rhetoric being used to make a difference. “The rhetor discloses issues and brings them to resolution by interacting with the situation, revealing and working through the phenomena, selecting appropriate material and arranging it into a coherent form” (Consigny, 62). The rhetor must structure the disorder of the situation, which seems to be a pretty noble charge – and thus reinforces Vatz’s agenda to elevate the status of rhetoric.

It also seems to be appropriate that rhetoric helps us to cut to the heart of the matter. As Consigny states, “The art of rhetoric is thus a ‘heuristic’ art, allowing the rhetor to discover real issues in indeterminate situations” (63). As such, it could be a tool for explaining, raising awareness, even mediating and negotiating. This definition also is refreshing since so much modern, public communication has the opposite intention (to confuse, mislead) and it is frequently, incorrectly dismissed as “rhetoric.”

Consigny seems to put his own perspective of rhetoric to use in this article. “The real question for rhetorical theory will become not whether the rhetor or situation is dominant, but how in each case the rhetor can become engaged in the novel and indeterminate situation and yet have a means of making sense of it” (63). Here, he decides not to align his perspective either with Bitzer (the power of the situation) or with Vatz (the responsibility of the rhetor), but cuts through both of their arguments to focus the question on the role of the rhetor in the midst of all those exigencies.

The Power of the Personal

From many angles, bell hooks reminds us of the power of the personal in rhetoric. And then, just when she had me entranced with this concept, she suddenly kicked the legs out from under it.

Hooks describes the importance of the viewpoints of critical thinkers who have been marginalized by society based on their race/sex/class/etc. She validates their voices and believes they are most justified due to their “passion of experience” that gives us, the listeners or readers, “the most relevant way to apprehend reality.” (83).

Also, hooks lists one of the preferred rhetorical options as confession, or giving testimony. The power of the personal story connected to a political reality can be very effective, she states. [And we can easily see how the personal story, the attraction it has for the public, has been so successfully commercialized by TV talk shows. But those confessions – instead of being libratory or enlightening messages for others – are merely entertainment. “The confession is simply a narcissistic act that turns the voices and beings of rhetors into ‘commodity, spectacle.’ (87).]

Furthermore, she advises us to take what we hear and make it personal for ourselves. She encourages rhetors to choose the option of enactment, by which we act in non-oppressive and non-dominating ways in our lives.

All of these aspects of personal rhetoric work toward achieving hooks’ purpose for rhetoric “to facilitate the eradication of the ideology of domination that pervades Western culture” (93).

But then I also hear a conflicting message from her: that the personal story is not enough, or too superficial to be successful. At one point, she comments how the old slogan “the personal is political” was a way to get women to think that their own experiences of oppression “automatically corresponded with an understanding of the ideological and institutional apparatus shaping one’s social status” (52) And yet, merely articulating one’s own experiences does not necessarily provide insight into that big picture.

Hooks also states, “Personal experiences are important to feminist movement but they cannot take the place of theory” (56). She recalls that white women who led the feminist movement encouraged black women to provide their colorful stories of oppression, but not contribute to theory underlying the movement.

It seems to me that the power of the personal in rhetoric is a great lesson we’ve gained from the development of feminist perspectives in rhetoric. As Foss, Foss and Griffin describe, it was not until feminist rhetorical theory began to develop that anyone seriously took note of a feminine style in discursive modes. This feminine style is characterized, among other things, by “a personal tone, a heavy reliance on personal experience” (21). Other scholars have gone on to examine the growing legitimacy and use of this style by both women and men – perhaps because of its success?

But based on hooks’ comments, I am left with a sense that although she respects its efficacy in persuasion, the personal in rhetoric is not enough for the long haul in feminist movement.