You say Personal, I say Political…Let’s call the whole thing off

“The personal is political” mantra raises itself again in this week’s readings and Sally Miller Gearhart weighs in with another (and contrasting) perspective from both bell hooks and Sonia Johnson.

Whereas hooks believes that merely articulating one’s own socio-political experiences does not necessarily provide insight into the big picture, and Johnson cuts off all connection between her own experiences and her teaching and working, Gearhart finds a convincing middle ground that seems to be socially effective and self-empowering.

We see a transformation take place in Gearhart’s rhetorical options over the years. Once a militant public activist, an epiphany caused her to believe that the intention to change someone else does violence to that other person, and therefore is wrong. Yet even with that belief, she is not content to remove herself entirely from society.

Among her methods for social change is re-sourcement, “the transformation of the current system through a collective sharing of re-sourced or healing energy among feminist women. This option allows for the enactment of new values, new ways of understanding and new ways of viewing reality…” (FRT, 271).

She notes the connection between women – in fact among all of nature – and believes that the “presencing” of women with each other creates energy that can be shared by rhetors. From there, “the collective aspect of re-sourcement transforms the individual experience of cosmic energy into a political force” (FRT, 271).

Gearhart emphasizes the importance of renewing the self by being true to women’s ways of knowing and communicating, yet she also sees that such an effort can have strong ramifications out in the world.

All three cause us to reconsider our notions of rhetorical space, or where as rhetors we choose to make a difference or not to take action: within, without or both.

Language, power, work, sacrifice

Sonia Johnson gives us excellent insight into the use of language to create power – or rather, the perception of power it can create. (Maybe this is what Foucault is saying somewhere in there…) She explains, “when men name patriarchy powerful, women believe themselves to be powerless because they do not behave as men behave” (FRT, 302). She wants women to learn that their power comes from within (like Starhawk), and underscores the importance of making change in ourselves, today, to make things happen, to make the women’s world reality.

However, she is opposed to working or learning because, she claims, such acts are just doing things for the future, and we should be living in and for the present. “Individuals should do exactly what they want at every moment….We must figure out how everyone’s needs can be completely filled without any of us doing a single thing we don’t really want to do, without even the smallest sacrifice” (FRT, 318).

Instead, she advocates gift giving to fulfill needs of others in society. “In the process of gift giving, no one’s needs or desires are compromised, and no one is ‘working’ or striving to meet those needs” (FRT, 319).

Perhaps my definition of a gift is much different than hers, but I fail to understand how Johnson can be so sharply critical of self-sacrifice and work when they can be such an essential part of giving. One can maintain a profound respect for oneself, and still make a sacrifice in order to give to another. Why can’t self-sacrifice be a gift? And what gift doesn’t involve work – and if it doesn’t, is it really a gift or just something being discarded or handed on?

Johnson seems to see self-sacrifice and work as a relinquishing of her power to others. She finds great freedom in being able to just be herself, do exactly what she wants, and not have any responsibility for the feelings, beliefs or behaviors of others. (RFRT, 300). But with such a self-centered perspective, she has isolated herself from family, friends and children in order to remain free of hierarchical relationships and other power structures.

I can appreciate her desire to step away from situations that place her under the control of the patriarchy. But I fear she’s taken this to such an extreme – i.e. her decision never to listen to a man again, including refusing to take questions from men in audiences at her lectures. (which I imagine Booth would be quite disappointed at this blatant refusal to attempt LR). She won’t enter the traditional rhetorical realm because she believes that only legitimizes the patriarchy and therefore, her efforts would be fruitless. But I think by failing to establish a bond with others whereby they are helped or taught or benefit from her work is equally as fruitless.

Listening to our own rhetoric

The readings from Gloria Anzaldua and Kenneth Burke really made me consider the effect of our own rhetoric on ourselves. Traditional rhetoric is so focused on the audience, meaning others or outsiders. Yet these two rhetoricians instead look inward to see the power of persuasion – for good and for bad.

Anzaldua describes the nature of the world with her term of Borderlands, or a state within a person whenever cultural differences exist. With its “constant disorientation” and “psychic restlessness,” (FRT, 106) the Borderlands is an experience of life on the margins. One of the great difficulties for a Borderlands person is she might have many identities, which often cause conflict for those around her. Anzaldua believes the Borderlands can be transcended when “a new mestiza consciousness” is developed (FRT, 109). “It comes from a continual creative motion that keeps breaking down the unitary aspect of each paradigm of culture and identity” (FRT, 109). She recognizes that this is a difficult and painful process, but it is liberating and healing for the self and society. Anzaldua believes that words, specifically metaphors, have the power to make this transformation happen. Because we see ourselves through metaphors, we must cast away the old, dead metaphors and shift to these new perspectives of ourselves.

Burke points out that a key term in rhetoric is “identification,” as the rhetor typically wants the audience to identify with him and his values as he tries to persuade them. Unfortunately, he notes that identification cannot exist without division. “If men were not apart from one another, there would be no need for the rhetorician to proclaim their unity. If men were wholly and truly of one substance, absolute communication would be of man’s very essence.” (B & H, 1326). This situation is personified by Anzaldua in her Borderlands persona, where divisions are causing conflict within herself and with others around her.

Burke goes on to discuss the dangers in rhetoric addressed to the individual soul. “A man can be his own audience, insofar as he, even in his secret thoughts, cultivates certain ideas or images for the effect he hopes they may have upon him… an ‘I’ addressing its ‘me’ ” (B & H, 1335). But he warns that there is a danger there, just as a danger always exists of a rhetor attempting some sort of manipulation of his public audience. In this rhetoric directed to the self, there are aspects of socialization, moralizing or trying to match what society is teaching. I think Anzaldua would caution us to be particularly critical and questioning of that which we tell ourselves, especially because it can create the painful situation of the Borderlands persona.

At times I am taken aback by Anzaldua’s writings because she is so harsh. I see now this might be her way of critically engaging in that discourse with the self. For her, allowing the opposite to occur would be the worst of crimes. Burke explains “this aspect of identification, whereby one can protect an interest merely by using terms not incisive enough to criticize it properly, often brings rhetoric to the edge of cunning” (B & H, 1334). Although Anzaldua doesn’t describe the situation in those terms, this is exactly the situation she is trying to transform.

I think Burke provides us with a thought-provoking definition of rhetoric when he writes: “Only those voices from without are effective which can speak in the language of a voice within” ( B & H, 1336).

Speaking near by

A lot of common ground can be found between Trihn T. Minh-ha’s rhetorical option of speaking near by and Wayne Booth’s listening rhetoric. Minh-ha’s work is grounded in a desire to open up perspectives and expand viewpoints, which is what Booth also believes could be accomplished with true rhetoric, especially in the realms of politics and the media.

Speaking near by involves listening and honoring the voice of another – “a speaking that does not objectify, does not point to an object as if it is distant from the speaking subject or absent from the speaking place. A speaking that reflects on itself and can come very close to a subject without, however, seizing or claiming it. She explains that it is not simply a rhetorical technique but ‘an attitude in life, a way of positioning oneself in relation to the world” (FRT, 247).

In his optimistic way, Booth would like to see political leaders adopt such a stance, especially while engaging in the current war rhetoric. However, in our American/global society, such a move ends up being seen as a weakness.

In her revolutionary way, Minh-ha points out that there is strength in openness to others and that differences do not threaten one’s own identity. “Interdependence cannot be reduced to a mere question of mutual enslavement. It also consists in creating a ground that belongs to no one… Otherness becomes empowerment” (RFRT, 218). I imagine Booth would like to see much of the current rhetrickery taken to that level of a ground that belongs to no one.

It’s likely that Booth operates a little too much “inside the system” for Minh-ha, but I think she would appreciate that Booth’s work can be based upon her theory.

Kramarae and Berthoff

Some of the feminist philosophy and theory of Cherise Kramarae led me back to statements I found in the writings of Ann Berthoff (my Name That Rhetorician for this week), despite the fact that Berthoff never labels herself as a feminist, and her academic work largely preceded the feminist movement in the U.S. (she started teaching around 1950).

Berthoff’s concepts of language and “the making of meaning” indicate a similar perspective to Kramarae. Kramarae’s definition of feminism includes the need for “a critical analysis of the ideas, practices and institutions of men, yesterday and today” (FRT, 53). Berthoff sees this idea of critical thinking – and our need to engage students in the practice – as vital to the writing process. She believes that writing or making meaning with language involves observing, listening, reading and re-reading, learning to interpret, etc.

The two rhetors also seem to share the perspective that a social connection is essential for language. Kramarae’s worldview includes the concept of interconnection (FRT, 48), which is “an understanding of the interdependency of all Earth’s lifeforms and that all is relationships.” Berthoff has been a major advocate of the idea that the meaning of language is socially constructed, and she even notes “meanings are relationships… Language is our readiest means of making meaning.”

I would like to question how this idea of relationships or interconnection fits with Kramarae’s focus on technology. Her work questions how women can access it/use it/control it to their benefit. Since her article was published in 1989, I would be interested to hear her comments on today’s techno-society dominated by the Internet, distance education classes and blogs like this. She notes that “the new technological devices may not be the best for our needs” (RFRT, 37), and she believes women need to have a voice in the creation and application of technology.

Here I wonder if technology and this true interconnection are always compatible. Kramarae states that “communities are created where psychological and physical ‘distance’ is reduced and where there is the potential for making real connections.” (FRT, 48). Yet it seems that much about technology is impersonal, and the chance to make that connection is lost. For instance, are students really satisfied with an class via the Internet, or would they gain much more by attending class in person? Making meaning, observing, listening and interpreting take on such different (maybe limited) definitions when they take place via technology. Both women write with such a passion for their work and personable-ness for others, and I can see how that could easily be diluted through technology.

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).