The Compromise Cliché (...or Not)

Let me start of by saying that I agree with the two conclusions Berlin reaches in his “Rhetoric and Ideology in the Writing Class”: 1) A hybrid pedagogical model that incorporates both cognitive and expressionistic rhetoric, thus dialectically congealing into his proposed social-epistemic rhetorical model.  2) That, as he puts it, “a rhetoric cannot escape the ideological question,” and that “teaching is never innocent” or without a discursive agenda (682).  I’ll address these points one at a time, but first I need to highlight the obviousness of each of these conclusions—especially the first.

            Berlin’s advocacy for the utilization of social-epistemic rhetoric in a pedagogical setting is about as clichéd as it gets; indeed, Berlin’s argument (in a nutshell) exists as an extremely erudite version of “extremism is bad, so why don’t we compromise and just do 50/50!?”  The five-dollar words and jargon-filled references to key figures of literary theory, philosophy, and pedagogy—such as Foucault, Marx, Elbow, etc.—disguise a shallow level of thinking that left me thinking, No sh*t!  Furthermore, Berlin’s second major conclusion from the essay—that rhetoric cannot exist in an ideological vacuum—is equally self-evident.  One need look no further than the Oxford English Dictionary’s definition of rhetoric to debunk Berlin’s rhetorical “cookery”:

a. The art of using language effectively so as to persuade or influence others, esp. the exploitation of figures of speech and other compositional techniques to this end; the study of principles and rules to be followed by a speaker or writer striving for eloquence, esp. as formulated by ancient Greek and Roman writers.

Key words like “persuade,” “influence,” and “exploit[ation]” reveal the inner workings and primary goals of rhetoric.  Perhaps I’m being overly cynical here, but I feel that Berlin’s argument is unnecessary: more explication/recitation of facts than argumentation.

            But…

            “Rhetoric and Ideology in the Writing Class” was published in 1988, nearly 30 years ago, so perhaps my interpretation of the obviousness of his argument is due to an anachronism in my logic.  And perhaps we have Berlin to thank for “obviousifying” this line of thought.  Like Walt Whitman, I too rhetorically ask, “Do I contradict myself?” and reply, “Very well then.”

            In layman’s terms, cognitive rhetoric attempts to steer composition studies towards the sciences and away from the arts.  Alternately, expressionistic rhetoric amplifies the subjectivity and individuality of all students participating in a composition course in order to “liberate [them] from the shackles of a corrupt society” (675).  This summary is nearly as reductionist as Berlin’s essay; indeed, Berlin could have easily dedicated an entire textbook to these concepts to fully deconstruct them (and perhaps he has elsewhere).  Regardless, the conclusion he reaches locates absolute truth (or “the real):

In a relationship that involves the dialectical interaction of the observer, the discourse community (social group) in which the observer is functioning, and the material conditions of existence.  Knowledge is never found in any one of these but can only be posited as a product of the dialectic in which all three come together. (678)

Bringing Hegelian/Marxist theory into the pedagogical realm excites me greatly, as obvious as Berlin’s conclusion may be!  Berlin goes on to suggest “open-ended” behavior that is “receptive to the unexpected, and subversive to the planned,” and that “liberated consciousness of the students is the only educational objective worth considering, the only objective worth the risk of failure.  To succeed at anything else is no success at all” (682).  While Berlin’s essay lacks sufficient practical advice for how a social-epistemic rhetoric-based classroom should work and his conclusions may lack in originality, he ultimately makes a strong case for consciously and conspicuously embracing the ideology that (by necessity) infuses whichever rhetorical approach one chooses as a teacher.  Perhaps Berlin is wiser than I’ve given him credit for.  Perhaps, in fact, he is a genius.  In essence, obviousness (or, perhaps more aptly, transparency), for Berlin, may just be the whole point, the “big idea,” and the antidote to ideological denial and/or ignorance in the classroom.

Never Fear! A Defense for Rhetoric is Here!

Bernard E. Jacob’s “What Socrates Said: And Why Gorgias and Polus Did Not Respond: A Reading of Socrates’ Definition of Rhetoric in ‘Gorgias’” interestingly focuses on the exact portion of the Socratic dialogue that is truncated from “Appendix I” of George A. Kennedy’s translation of Aristotle’s On Rhetoric: the moment when “Gorgias’ student, Polus, interrupts impatiently, complaining that Socrates is taking unfair advantage of Gorgias.  Polus demands that Socrates say what he thinks rhetoric is” (Kennedy 258).  Jacob’s essay, then, is an expansion and explication of information that Kennedy deemed disposable and footnote-worthy.  This, I think, is an interesting rhetorical move by Kennedy, who could have undoubtedly printed more of the Socratic transcript in his book.  Indeed, the wholesale excision of Polus’s character and interactions from the dialogue indicate Kennedy’s attempts to downplay that segment in favor of the Socrates/Gorgias dialogue, which, I think it is important to note, does not attack the practical and theoretical foundations of rhetoric like Polus’s segment does.

            The rhetorical trap—whether intentional or unintentional—that Socrates leaves for Polus is masterfully orchestrated to the point when Polus “shortcuts” the need for Socrates to prove his point (that rhetoric only exists as a parasitic add-on to politics/justness/etc.) “because he himself supplies the most persuasive proof of all for it.  It is not a proof in speech or by argument.  It is a dramatic proof” (Jacob 94).  I had to re-read and re-evaluate this concept several times; it felt important, and I’m not 100% positive that I’ve “cracked the code” per se, but I think I’m close to the mark.  Polus performs Socrates’s proof that rhetoric is inextricably linked to political power (or other “true arts”) by the act of not crying foul when Socrates subtly links the two concepts in his discussion of rhetorical flattery.  The master, it seems, has put the student in his place.

            However, as Jacob suggests, an adequate defense of rhetoric has not yet been presented either by himself or Polus or Gorgias or even Kennedy.  Never fear!  Do not despair!  I shall attempt to quickly summarize what such a defense might look like in short form:

Socrates’s logic is flawed in light of his own logic.  Socrates’s argument is wrong because he is right.  This paradox can be most easily grasped through his concept of the omnipresence of flattery in rhetoric (especially in regards to politics).  Flattery, Socrates claims, “will end with the speaker’s loss of his or her own soul” in spite of the fact that “flattery works” (Jacob 94, 90).  This complicates things a bit.  A logical conclusion—using Aristotle’s beloved inductive reasoning—would be that to perform rhetoric well, one must become a “bad,” unscrupulous person outside of a rhetorical setting.  So does this mean that rhetoric is inherently evil?  That seems to be along the lines of what Socrates is getting at, but, as I said before, I’m not giving up hope just yet.  Socrates himself uses little to no flattery (quite the opposite, in fact) when convincing an unwitting Polus of his argument.  Just as Polus accidentally dramatizes a performed proof of Socrates’s argument, Socrates unintentionally proves himself false by performing successful rhetoric without the use of flattery.  To return to inductive reasoning again: if it’s at all possible for successful persuasion to exist in an unflattering or non-manipulative manner, then rhetoric cannot be completely flattery-based (i.e., morally just rhetoric can and does, indeed, exist).

In the interest of not writing a novel-length discussion here, I’ll conclude by conceding Socrates’s point that rhetoric cannot exist in a vacuum; it is dependent on another “life source” for its sustenance, but those “life sources” are infinite (ranging from politics to medicine and anywhere in between) and all-pervasive.  Indeed, to find a dividing line between rhetoric and any “true art” would be next to impossible; rhetoric—the art of persuasion—is woven into the fabric of all interactions and exchanges.

Aristotle's Rhetoric - Book 2

Book 2 of Aristotle’s Rhetoric catalogues a wide variety of persuasive topics and tactics (particulars) without spending too much time on any single one.  Book 2 also serves as one of the founding texts in the field of psychology, so, in other words, Book 2 is a lot to take in.

            For me, all of the particulars that Aristotle lists add up to his overriding universal: rhetoric, and represent his attempt at accounting for every possible method of persuasion.  However, as I read, I feel that I discovered the “missing link(s)” that connects his universal concept of rhetoric as a whole to his particular opinions on psychology, pathos, ethos, logos, etc.  One of these missing links is the fact that all of these topics are linked to one another; indeed, they contain each other like some kind of impossible/paradoxical Russian nesting dolls.  Imagine an arrow drawn between each rhetorical element.  Each affects the other, and none exists in a vacuum.  For example, pathos is affected by logos just as logos is affected by pathos, etc., etc., etc., ad infinitum.  I say all of this is to provide the framework for the second “missing link” that connects Aristotle’s particulars to his universal concept of rhetoric: the dialectic—the union of opposites.

            For Aristotle, dialectic is an essential component of rhetoric, and vice-versa.  Book 2 reveals the importance of dialectical (logical) discussion in terms of rhetorical persuasion in the form of public speaking (or writing).  Similar to Hegel’s notion of the dialectic process, Aristotle argues that each emotion and state of being contains its opposite within itself in the form of potential—there can be no life without death, there can be no beginning without an end, etc., etc.  Within the infinitely interconnected dialectic of Aristotle’s conceptualization of rhetoric (as universal and particulars), I was shocked at the present-day ramifications.  Allow me to explain. 

Everything I’ve written thus far has been in service of logically establishing my train of thought.  This is a rhetorical tactic I’ve chosen because of its inherent logic.  I, as writer, am giving you, as reader, the proverbial bread crumbs that I feel you need to retrace my mental steps.  The tone of this writing has also been stiff and overly erudite.  This was also a choice on my behalf, meant to prove one of Aristotle’s most shocking points: that logical, universal-centered argumentation filled with “convoluted sentences” failed in both Aristotle’s day and continues to fail in ours.  Aristotle claims that:

The uneducated are more persuasive than the educated [when speaking] before crowds, just as the poets say the uneducated are more “inspired by the Muses” in a crowd; for [the educated] reason with axioms and universals, [the uneducated] on the basis of what [particulars] they know and instances near their experience. (169)

Taking this line of argumentation a step further, “uneducated” or under-educated individuals are most likely not only more persuasive, but more easily persuadable than their more educated peers.  It’s astounding to read this 2,000-year-old document at a time when the current President of the United States has openly professed his love for uneducated, gullible Americans who will (and did) believe anything he said regardless of any truth value (to paraphrase him loosely).  President Trump, himself an educated man who received his B.S. (double entendre intended) degree in Economics from the University of Pennsylvania, seemingly outsmarted his opponents in the 2016 election by way of “out-dumbing” them in the public eye.  By activating the Muses of passionate, angry fear and xenophobic patriotism, Trump successfully inspired crowds upon crowds of potential voters to support him while his competitors stuck with boring ol’ facts.