The Uses and Misuses of the term Rhetoric

I don’t usually watch cable news. I tend more toward radio these days. But I happened to catch Rachel Maddow’s show on January 10th. I thought she was very good, examining a number of issues relevant to the current tragedy in Arizona sanely and coherently. However, I was struck by a moment when she entered into an analysis of language issues as they relate to speech, description, and meta-analysis.

Sarah Palin’s speech today illustrates the problem of language in context. While Palin’s intention with this video was probably meant to deflect “attention,” she, instead, garnered more with her use of the term blood libel. It’s perfectly fine for Palin to defend herself in the public sphere. But before this is done, some reasonable framing of the problem should be made, and a reasonable amount of research, also, as words themselves require study. Rhetorical frames help to put an intention into context.

But back to the question of rhetoric. Rhetoric can be defined in may ways.

Rhetoric is:

1. An art of expression or persuasion
2. The study of a variety of communication forms and their nature; the study of discourse
3. The methods and techniques of numerous forms of communication, including the use of the variety of Figures of Speech and much more in this context
4. A work by Aristotle

But rhetoric isn’t speech or writing that is intended to be misleading or bits and pieces of talk meant as such. Nor is rhetoric a specific technical device: this, for example, is rhetoric, and that is a hen laying an egg. I often hear the word rhetoric in relation to political speech or advertising. Political rhetoric or “campaign rhetoric.” The term will be used in a pejorative sense: “Oh, that’s just rhetoric.” Or, “We should stop the rhetoric.” Or, “If we could just get away from the rhetoric.” I suggest that this is a misuse of the term and clouds a more significant problem in expression: the need for precision. Which is why I found Dr. Maddow’s (I believe she has a Ph.D from Oxford) use of the term rhetoric odd, as her program was very much concerned with precision. But what was the context?

In a reference to Sharron Angles’s expression “Second Amendment” remedies, Maddow urged the audience not to describe this term as rhetoric or as rhetorical. She was meaning to differentiate rhetoric from figurative and literal expression or from outright misleading analysis. I quote from the transcript lengthily:

Also, while we are clearing stuff up in the increasingly nasty discussion about whether or not over-hyped or violent political rhetoric is relevant at all to this crime, Nevada Senate candidate Sharron Angle’s frequent references to Second Amendment remedies that has repeatedly been [sic] described as rhetoric. To be clear, that should not be described as rhetoric. Campaign rhetoric is stuff like Arizona’s Ben Quayle, Dan Quayle’s son promising in that campaign ad to kick the hell out of Washington. He’s not going to literally kick the hell out of anything. That’s metaphor. That’s rhetoric, right? Sharron Angle spoke of Second Amendment remedies literally. Here is her comment in context, as reported by “The Reno Gazette Journal” in May, quote, “What is a little disconcerting and concerning is the inability for sporting goods stores to keep ammunition in stock. That tells me the nation is arming.” “What are they arming for if it isn’t that they are distrustful for their government? They are afraid they will have to fight for their liberty in more Second Amendment kinds of ways.” Take it from the context in which she spoke. The Second Amendment remedies thing was not a metaphor. It was not rhetorical. It was Sharron Angle’s analysis suggesting that people are going to shoot their way out of their current political situation. She was literally talking about actual guns and ammunition being purchased from sporting goods stores. She meant it literally, that people will turn to guns. That is a lot of things. It may not be relevant to this. But if you’re arguing about whether or not it is relevant to this, you should not describe it as rhetoric.

The question at hand seems to be: should this or that speech be taken metaphorically or literally. Strictly speaking, this really has nothing to do with whether something is “rhetoric” or “rhetorical.” More to the point, “second amendment remedy” is metonymy, the replacement of a related term or idea for something else, like saying to the police with the thief dead in the kitchen: “Well, he slid through the widow. I took out my pistol. And boy did I give that fucker his second amendment remedy.” If the police know the Second Amendment, they might grasp the figure. If they’re aware of Second Amendment debates, they might respond: “Which militia did the dead guy belong to?”

I understand Maddow’s point and grant her the authority she’s due. But the question of the tragedy in Arizona is about health care, the easy availability of weaponry, and irresponsibility and irrational priorities in this country. I really don’t think Palin or Angle grasp the complexity of these issues and the language and importance of rhetorical frames, however, and this should have been the point.

As to the use of the term “blood libel.” All Palin had to do was look it up and do a little rhetorical analysis. Alas.

On State Rights

This from McClatchy but linked to the original source:

Lawmakers are pushing three identical bills to exempt Kentucky-made guns and ammunition from federal background checks, dealer licenses and other national regulations if the items remain in the state.

If this is so, there must be some sort of special quality to the metal in Kentucky guns, just as there might be a special quality to the fruit in Florida Orange juice. They will be able to speak, too, and understand: “You, there, stay in the state.”

Media, Politics, and Irony

Zeleny and Rutenberg write in the New York Times

Yet openly seeking political advantage in tragedy is a delicate business and can backfire, as some of Mr. Clinton’s aides suggested.

As generalizations go, that’s a pretty safe one. But it is meaningless, when anything said, any appearance made in media can cross contextual boundaries.

On Saturday, numerous appearances were made by commentators and concerned citizens on the Gifford’s attack and the language about media and message volatility came out quickly, where much discussion was made and will come in the future about “boundaries,” regardless of the many ways that ideas can be interpreted by sane and unhinged people alike. The graphic referred to in the article, the now infamous “cross-hairs” image, was removed, I believe, from the Palin website on Saturday, although I’m sure of that this is an accurate statement.

The attack by Jared Loughner on the public square is significant. One reason was the commonplace nature of Gifford’s gathering, attended by young and old and others who just figured they would make a visit and then leave and go about their business. Here’s a generalization: many tragedies like this begin as commonplace or prosaic–go to work, get on the plane, open the front door–and then the world shifts. The reader might remember those demonstrations outside the Phoenix Convention Center that altered the character of a fairly straightforward Presidential event, making it something other that it was intended. It was transformed into something bizarre. In the case of the Gifford gathering, it became bizarre, cruel, and where language meant as figurative becomes actuality.

One important notion in fiction is that depicted events are perceived as possible in actuality. The writer doesn’t assert that things are real, however. There’s really no differentiation of this notion across the genre or in modes, such as surrealism or realism. In the Kafkan or Twainian mode, we recognize the strange and the absurd in actuality. In a sense, this a recognition on the writer’s part of the power of irony. When people say “Truth is stranger than fiction” they mischaracterize the nature of fiction.

Role Playing and Nostalgia

John Mutchek has a nice roundup of our first Dungeons and Dragons gathering on the 29th of December, where I practiced with two dwarves. He’ll be posting regularly on our encounters–and our beer drinking also, as we’re all sharing favorites. Luckily my good friend Dave is a brewer. John’s also into the making as are a few other colleagues of the game.

Sure, this is partly nostalgia, as I played DnD many years ago in high school when things were simpler but it took hours and lots of math to drum up characters. Now we can work with Wizards’s character builder and get down and dirty quickly. I remember loads of graph paper, multiple rolls, and reading through lists of capabilities or character and culture variables. Not a computer in sight as none were to be had.

As a digital person, the first night of play was refreshing. At the heart of Dungeon and Dragons is story first and foremost. The Dungeon Master, in this case, John, preps encounters for fighting and spell casting, but he also has to be a weaver, working those encounters into a larger story frame, and we as the players play into and grow as the narrative builds in character. Our crew is a group of excellent and smart fellows, and I’m really looking forward to sitting together and acting out the parts.

A second critical element of the game is emergence, that self-organizing quality of complex systems to form perhaps unintended or unforeseen patterns out of elements, actions, decisions, turns, and other subjacencies. We’re all waiting for what’s to come in the game. It’l e interesting to gather again and either make things emerge or get the crap kicked out of us as Level 1s.

Why I Dislike Holiday Breaks

One of the reasons I dislike holiday breaks is I dislike spending money. Sure, I’m somewhat of a miser, and in the spirit of being miserly I’ve stopped smoking cigarettes (well, I have snuck a few). The days of smoking are pretty much over. I don’t want to be unhealthy, either financially or physically. Rather, I’m looking forward to several months of the everliving hell of quitting.

The holidays are filled with strange hypocrisies. On the one hand, tis the season for spending lots of money and more debt accrual. On the other hand, though I’m not sure which hand it is, we’ll be hearing a lot in the next few months about how people don’t save enough, thus digging holes under future balloons and bubbles.

Another reason I dislike the holidays is that I forget what I should be doing. There’s a lot of work to do. I have clearing to do out back, woodwork around the house, and other house projects. I also disremember what I told myself I should be preparing for: new media program work, exam writing, course development. Oh, and then there was Rails.

I have been working on the courses, yes. In doing so, I’m already prepping for a redeploy of World Literature in the Fall with a strong redosing of Chinese history and study of intellectual traditions. Fritjof Capra has been helpful, as I can snag a few birds in his Tao of Physics volume. I’m not done with the book so I don’t want to make hasty assertions about what teleos might mean when we compare Relativity Theory and various elements of Taoism or Buddhism. One of the critical elements of Taoism is the notion of complementarity, hence the thrust of this post must be taken with complementarity.

I’m also reading Jason Shiga’s Meanwhile, a interesting path-choice comic, given to me by my step son. (Smokelessness, however, makes it hard to concentrate.)

I’m also working my way into Nicholas Carr’s post on interactive narrative. I think he’s right about the importance and potency of storytelling, but I find that the entryway into the interactive arts is unconvincing. Considering storytelling from the point if view of the critic and the apparatus is limiting. Again, I make the assertion that we need more readers and writers in the variety of forms. The “death of the author” meme is not, I don’t think, what writers are thinking about when they’re considering links, branches, and decisions.

Lastly, the worst thing about holidays is the fact that they end and that their liminal periods are difficult to pin down. Question then: are they particles or waves or both?

End of Semester Reflection: Fall 2010

I’m told there will never be another Fall 2010 semester so I might as well reflect on it.

It was an interesting semester. One of the best parts of teaching college is that every semester the instructor meets about one hundred new people. I’m glad for this. It’s one of the best aspects of the job. This semester I met some curious, interesting, exciting, and fragile people. About five weeks in, I lost about half the above number and then a few more. New Media saw lots of drops, also. British Literature keep most until the end, and the writing courses saw about three quarters loss, maintaining the trend. In any event, things worked out pretty well, with some very good writing, discussion, and learning from the men and women in these courses.

The attrition levels may sound alarming. This semester, however, faired much better than in past years. One thing I learned is that I need to front-end more logic and reasoning methodologies in the writing courses. Several of the higher performing students would have benefitted from earlier forays into composition and analysis. Those who met the course abilities at Satisfactory, I think, would also benefit from a closer attention from the start into specific examination of elements like propter hoc fallacies and other formal and informal engagement. Saving definitions and examples of “begging the question” too late in the semester appears to break the editing stream and fragments thinking, especially for students who aren’t used to argumentation and persuasive writing strategies. I’ll keep to theme of human ecology as there are numerous exciting ideas in the works, especially out of the American Society for Civil Engineering, whose grade of D on American infrastructure might be a good stage setter for the problems we study in Composition.

New Media will see the incorporation of quizzing and exams to reinforce content. Projects will be prep for these. And John and I need to work on some sort of system that will keep students on top of their studies in new media, as we find that students are misusing their time. In the courses we teach, students mainly get into trouble because they don’t keep up with “all” the material and work required. I note that one missed item breeds several more.

It was a loud semester. Hours of guitar, talking, listening, and lecture and discussion. I find myself over the last few days out of the Twitter, blog, and Facebook stream. I’ve taken to sitting in a quiet room considering what I learned over the semester. The most significant lesson comes from questions on learning that have been on the front burner: what is the epistemological epiphany? When, in other words, can we say something has been learned? One answer comes from Taoism: we know we know something when it comes without thinking or, in other words, when it is repeated naturally. Taoism sets a very difficult standard, but it does make sense. Since I still have to think about how to play the chords in the key of C, I don’t really know this Key yet. This is the perfect problem in the study of opposites: one can’t help but perform badly before performing so so and so on.

Let the Blame be Spread Like Salt

Evan Thomas in this Newsweek article takes a straightforward and somewhat odd position, adding to the ever-growing advice-giving genre. He writes

His only hope to be an effective president, to secure his legacy, is to tell the whole truth about the deficit, the debt, and the only real way out—to be, as he put it, “straight” with the voters.

This seems simple enough. Thomas goes on to hint at what a program of honesty would look like. He writes

There may not be a single political professional in Washington who would agree with this advice. I’ve never met one. Generally, the suggestion that a politician call for tax increases and cuts in Social Security and Medicare is greeted with hoots of derision.

Thomas here suggests that Mr. Obama’s solutions should include the above. I can hear this speech by the President: “American people: we’re going to cut Social Security and Medicare today. Good luck to you.” Later in the article, Thomas gets to what might be called the “ethic” of doing the right thing (the right thing of course can be inferred) by making an appeal to sacrifice.

Only the president can make the case for sacrifice, and it won’t be popular. As it is, most people already think they are doing their share by paying taxes and resent the idea of paying more, especially if their house is underwater, and they believe (rightly or wrongly) that financial geniuses on Wall Street are to blame. To call for sacrifice, the president will have to be willing to make a sacrifice himself. Obama can offer his own political career. He can put his reelection on the line. He can make the 2012 election a national referendum on doing the right thing.

I’ll get back this shortly but first provide another quote that illustrates Thomas’ take on yet another problem area with deficit and economy: the state employee question:

A real growth spurt, in any case, will require government spending on badly deteriorating infrastructure and massive research and development. But there is no money—not in the federal treasury, nor at the state level. Thanks to massive (and largely unnoticed) giveaways to public-employee pension plans, big states like California, New York, and New Jersey are even closer to bankruptcy than the federal government. A column by David Brooks of The New York Times recently noted that New Jersey badly needs a new tunnel to New York, but can’t afford it because the money has been spent on generous benefits for public employees. In California, the state is paying its bills with IOUs.

The question of growth spurting is a current hot topic. Investment in infrastructure and RnD are positive things, of course, and would likely be even better if states would shrink their operations and maneuver “giveaways” to this research. Thomas’s application of the oft-used accusatory phrase “Thanks to” is nice icing, as in “Thanks to you, I’m in the friggin’ poor house.”

I have questions: why does Thomas claim that only the President can make the case for “sacrifice”? Certainly the President could make the case to “cut Social Security,” but so could the leadership of the GOP and AARP. Dean Baker makes a different case:

Of course the facts are very clear. There is no truth to the whining about out of control government spending. According to the Congressional Budget Office, non-interest federal spending was 18.8 percent of GDP in 1980. In 2020 it is projected to be 18.6 percent of GDP.
. . .
And of course the whole long-term deficit nightmare story is driven entirely by our broken health care system. If per person health care costs in the United States were the same as in any of the wealthy countries with longer life expectancies we would be looking at huge budget surpluses, not deficits.

Thomas’s point, of course, goes to the President’s credibility and a wish-list; I take Baker’s arguments above as treating evidence specifically, regardless of what may or may not be on the President’s mind. As Thomas writes, the President could act like other exemplars of “sacrifice”:

But rather two large and noble groups: people who serve in the armed forces and every parent who has sacrificed himself or herself for a child. Soldiers, sailors, and airmen routinely put their lives at risk for something other than the modest pay they get. Mothers sacrifice themselves—their sleep and careers and peace of mind—for their children on a daily basis, often without really thinking about it. In every case they are subordinating their physical and material well-being to something greater than themselves: the love of a child, or their comrades in arms, or their country.

This finally gets us to the quick of the matter, I think. But the problem here is that the infrastructure that supports the “soldier” is a massive part of the US budget and parents really don’t have much of a choice, as the poop doesn’t clean itself and we don’t pay parents what they’re probably worth.

Ultimately, the problem with all this is that the framework Thomas draws is under dispute. My position is that supplying advice to Presidents in this manner won’t actually solve any problems. I’d rather see the author ask more questions and perhaps cite research that concludes that California’s “giveaways” are indeed significant enough to hoist up with such prominence. He doesn’t even ask if “giveaway” is the word he should use. The CCEA Outlook study is a good example of things people might consult.

Proof and Possibility: Tech, Media, and Imagination

Jesse Abbot continues his incredible speaking series with:

Speaker info:

F. Scott Scribner, PhD, is Associate Professor of Philosophy at The University of Hartford. He received his doctorate from SUNY-Binghamton and has studied extensively in Europe – in both France and Germany. He is a specialist in 19th and 20th Century European Philosophy and has published widely in this field. He is primarily concerned with marshaling the resources of 19th century German Idealism for thinking about the impact of media upon our lives. And although he is convinced that technology speeds far faster than our ability to think it, it doesn’t stop him from trying. His book, Matter’s Spirit: J.G. Fichte and Technological Imagination (Pennsylvania State University Press, 2010) was published this past spring.

Doing Yet More Impossible Things in Inform 7

To create the illusion of doing more impossible things in Inform 7

The Lab is a room. The description is “The lab is cool. You sense the existence of an atom in the lab.”

The Atom is an open enterable scenery in the Lab.

An Electron is an open enterable scenery in the Atom. A dog is in the electron.

Instead of entering the Atom: say “You did the impossible and went inside the atom. Even so, you spy an electron.”

Instead of examining the electron, say “Maybe you could get inside that too.” instead.

Instead of entering the electron: say “Now you feel even smaller. But, hey, how did that dog get in here?”

After examining the dog:
now the player is in the Lab;
say “You remember the dog smiling at you and saying, ‘Dork.'”

On Doing the Impossible in Inform 7

In Inform 7, to create the illusion of doing the impossible, write:

The Lab is a room. The Atom is an open enterable scenery in the Lab. The Electron is a thing in the Atom. Instead of entering the Atom: say “You did the impossible.”

At the command line, write: enter Atom. Whallah!