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.