automatic for the people

academic self-publicity

Music: Stereolab: ABC Music: Radio One Sessions (1992)

As one learns to become a scholar, s/he quickly figures out there are a number of strategies he or she can use to publicize one's work. One of them is self-citation, or citing your own work in your work. I've done this---and more frequently in my earlier work than my later work---although I prefer to think I do so because something else I've published has a more detailed elaboration of a point I'm making. Heck, I've often cited myself because I'm the only one I know of making a certain point. Even so, I don't doubt that part of my self-citation is part of a semi-unconscious desire to promote my work; you can't be a teacher or scholar without some degree of narcissism. There are mirrors in the endnotes, to be sure.

Another strategy is, of course, to pick a fight with another scholar and hope that it leads to an actual publication melee. I first became aware of this approach by having my work attacked. My first publication in The Quarterly Journal of Speech attempted to rehabilitate an approach in rhetorical criticism titled "fantasy theme analysis." I was trying to update the approach for criticism in the present, since the theory was first developed in the 1970s. Unfortunately, a number of scholars deeply identified with that approach thought I was trying to pick a fight and came after me. I remember when the editor first told me she was going to publish their "rebuttal" I got sick to my stomach; I thought they completely misunderstood what I was really trying to do, that I was "on their side." Yet, a mentor soon explained that my essay was a handy way to get an older agenda back on the radar, and perhaps what I really argued was not the ultimate motive of my critics. That make me feel a bit better. And as another trusted mentor told me on his front porch shortly after the controversy hit print, "it's not about being right; it's about being noticed." "It," in this case, was one's academic profile.

Not too long after that, someone took me to task in print. This time, however, that someone had good points to make, and it resulted in a fairly civil exchange in which I learned something and actually made a friend. We subsequently co-authored something. My and Chris Lundberg's exchange over Lacanian psychoanalysis really did advance a line of inquiry---or it did, at least, for us.

These two experiences led me to conclude that there were two kinds of publication debates: those that are solely for publicity, and then, those that are truly about advancing thinking. As much as it initially hurts to get critiqued, I confess I think that a scholarly debate can really advance lines of inquiry. My field---rhetorical studies---has had a number of highly polemical debates and print that do a great job of putting issues on the table. Part of the reason these debates are productive is that my field teaches debate, and many of the scholars arguing back and forth in print are former debaters (including yours truly)---we know the practice. In our graduate seminars we frequently assign such debates because they're so helpful for teaching issues and getting to major fault-lines quickly. For this reason, my colleague Dana and I have issued a polemical critique of some scholars we admire in the hope it furthers discussion. For us it is not about publicity; it's about the issues we're debating.

All of this is to preface my thoughts about the third attack on my work in print by Chris Miles, an assistant professor of Communication and Media studies at a newer university in Turkey. I first learned of Miles from a 2007 review of my book he printed in an academic journal that addresses esoteric topics. To my knowledge, it's the only negative review. Many of the points he makes about the book's shortcomings are fair. A few, however, seemed a bit cheap, especially the one calling me out for not citing works that were not available or published during the time I was writing mine. I emailed Miles to tell him so, but he never responded.

At least not immediately. A year later Miles published a peer reviewed attack in Rhetoric Society Quarterly. I reckon this was his response to my private email. I don't know. What bothered me about this essay was that (a) it takes a whole group of scholars to task for arguments that I make, when clearly the other scholars are making different arguments toward different ends; and (b) the major claim is just fallacious. Miles argues, basically, this: my reading of modern occult rhetoric ignores the influence of Agrippa's Renaissance-era occultism, and because Agrippa was so influential, my arguments about the Platonic character of modern (19th and 20th century) occultism are fatally flawed. That is a classic exception fallacy, of course.

What's more bothersome to me, however, is the tone of his critique, which seemed unnecessarily combative. I can understand, for example, the fantasy theme folks being angry with me, because they thought I was trying to undermine their enterprise (I wasn't, and y'all should know I am now on very friendly terms with them). But what is to account for the nasty tone and recourse to questionable arguments with Miles' attack? I just didn't get it.

I was visiting Purdue University and having dinner with David Blakesley, a very well regarded Burke scholar (as well as an incredibly generous guy). Miles had yoked my perspective with Burke, so I told Dave about this, and that I was thinking about responding in print. Dave said he'd like to join if I decided to respond, since he thought Miles was misreading Burke. Morgan Reitmeyer, a doctoral student at Purdue, was also privy to these conversations. She's well read in Agrippa, and so I thought if I went forward with a response I'd ask her to join too.

After my visit at Purdue, I asked the editor of the journal if a response was possible, and she said it was. Then, it occurred to me that William A. Covino and Brian Vickers might want to join in the response, since their work was also attacked. Sir Vickers declined, but Bill said he was game. And so, a response was written and bandied back and forth among us and submitted. Here it is.

Our response is really about trying to discern Miles' submerged motive or the true warrant of his critique: why, exactly, is he being polemical? What's at stake here? Is it conceptual confusion? Bad history? Miles' major claim about our motives is that we want to make occultism our "ghostly other," that we're grinding occultism's bones to make our own bread---and that Agrippa's bones are just ungrindable. Of course, neither Burke, Covino, Vickers, nor I have written about occultism to dismiss it, as Miles claims. I'll tell you, I didn't read that stuff for two years because I thought it was dismissible prattle!

So, we conjectured that Miles, perhaps, thinks that our secularist stance perhaps is to blame, that our academic approaches are too closed off to spiritual insight, or thinking that about magic in a more spiritual way yields better insights, or something like that. It's not clear what is at stake, because none of us are interested in dismissing the occult out of hand (in fact, I see it as central to all language games, as does Bill and Kenny B). Why, exactly, are we "missing the boat" according to Miles?

He never answers this question of motive, or supplies a good reason for why he is attacking the extant rhetorical literature on the occult. That we have ignored or failed to read Agrippa closely just seems . . . well, silly. I'm afraid his response to our response is rather telling: titled "A Quick Game of Rho-Sham-Bo With the Four Horsemen of the Apophasis," the tone is immediately ugly. I had to look up "Rho-Sham-Bo." This refers to a game of men kicking each other in the balls. [Later edit: apparently it's a reference to rock-paper-scissors; much less aggro, but still, the "apocalypse" and "horsemen" would invite the masculinist aggro interpretation . . . . ]

So, at least, we have Miles' self-perception of what this attack is all about. Fight Club is about psychosis---a deep narcissism that has nothing to do with the community, but self-knowing through the infliction of pain. A masculinity ritual, to be sure.

In the end of the response to the response Miles claims (albeit not very clearly) he is attacking the model-centered approach of rhetorical scholars ("grand unified theory of X"); that would be a great critique if it were fully developed, and one for which I think there are many sympathies in the field. It's too bad, however, the nastiness gets in the way of making that critique.

So I'm publicizing a scholars work that I don't think deserves to be publicized, because it is, in a term, "dirty academics." My only hope is that the dirt is as easy to see by the disinterested; that is, of course, my faith.

it's synth-pop friday

"I'm getting older too"

Music: Def Leppard: Pyromania (1983)

File this post under nostalgia, as in "thirty-something-tries-to-make-golden-the-yesteryear-because-fears-of-mortality-sink-more-deeply-in-the-mid-thirties." I'm feeling very Tom Brokaw this week, except that I'm not attempting to commodify a generation to make some money, nor do some hegemonic work for my parent company. Well, I reckon I'm doing my own hegemony dance here, it's just not routed through coffee table books and prime-time specials. I just want to think-through, for a moment, the feelings of my youth, which I'm revisiting in headphones. I received in the mail today Def Leppard's Pyromania "Deluxe Edition" remaster, which was first released in 1983. It sounds delicious. I'm singing along as I type here. I was ten when I first heard this album. I'm now 36. I was gifted the cassette for a birthday or something, I don't remember. I do remember that at that age MTV was a regular viewing habit (it was all music videos then, with "VJs" chatting between them), and Def Leppard was a staple on MTV. The video of "Rock of Ages" is deeply burned into the memory banks, as is "Photograph." I know every word---and I'm fairly certain this is where my fascination with the Union Jack began. I couldn't afford them, but I longed for years to have a pair of those Doc Martin's with the Union jack on the foot.

The feeling-memories of my youth are often tied to music---to the soundtrack that was playing in the background. My love of radio is rooted in the significance of that medium to my youth, and to the ways in which radio was used as a technology of mood. Radio was omnipresent when I was growing up. I remember Blue Oyster Cult playing softly in the background as I went to sleep. And Steely Dan (later, in my teens, I would discover Steely Dan sounded even more divine as a soundtrack to the ubiquitous "joint"). In the 80s, radio was today's television---or better said, radio was today's cable television. Radio was what pre-teens recorded on their "tape decks"---we "stole" music as a pastime (the equivalent, I think, of "downloading" music today). I remember waiting for a song I wanted to "dub" off the radio, sometimes so long my hand got tired waiting on the "record" button, a memory that only resurfaced listening to Pyromania tonight. Good lord, the hours I wasted waiting for a certain song on the radio to broadcast that I wanted to tape for myself. (I recall the Bow-Wow-Wow had a single about this, "C30-C90-C120 Go!" or something like that, which referred to "piracy" and the time limits of cassette tapes).

As a pre-teen I remember listening a lot to Z-93, a radio station in the Atlanta area that played "classic rock." Back then radio stations had "formats," a convention that's still around but losing its hold, and they also had real flesh-and-blood DJs that lived in your city. I remember Z93 was the station that my "teachers" in preschool (La Petit Ecole, now out of business) played on the VW busses as they ferried us on "field trips" to Stone Mountain. (I remember I was like six or seven and the whole VW bus full of after school kids singing REO Speedwagon's "Don't Let Her Go" at the top of our lungs). It's also the station my mother liked to listen to when Q93 shifted to their "harder rock" slate. My mother was a sucker for the Allman Brothers and Fleetwood Mac. The title of this post is homage to the song "Landslide," sung by Stevie Nicks and played incessantly on Z-93 (Stevie was among my first pop crushes, next to Juice Newton, someone who has faded into pop history while Stevie has remained on the radar).

The more I listen, the brilliant obviousness of fact: feelings are encoded in sound, much more readily than they are in words or, yes, photographs. I don't know if this is unique to my person or not; my father, for example, has no interest in music whatsoever, and I've met many people---often students---who declare a disinterest in music. For me, however, so much of my affective life, my affective history, is encoded in music; my music collection functions as a kind of feeling storehouse. If I put on the first Nine Inch Nails song (TMI alert), it cues the feelings and memories of making love for the first time with someone, excitement and fear all at once. Today, that album sounds so teenage in its sentiments, but it does unleash feelings listening to it.

To be sure, other forms of media "inscribe" memories for me, but music holds a special spot. I sometimes wonder if this has to do with how I encode memories for myself; I'm much more likely to remember the sound of someone's voice, or a "sound bite" of what he or she said in my head, if I'm asked "how do you feel about such-and-so."

The book I'm writing right now is about the processes of cultural mourning and human speech, so I've been in this place of thinking about feelings and sound for some years. My next book, which I've already outlined (and which is based on a class I've been teaching now for eight years), is titled A Rhetoric of Music. I'm thinking I'll need to read-up on brain research, sound, and music. I'd like to know what "empirical" evidence exists for the kinds of claims I'm making. Right now, these claims are purely about my own experiences---but I want to know if my affections for early Def Leppard (not late---ugh) are shared by others in reference to the music of their youth.

Funny thing is, I remember actively saying to others during that time in the early eighties that I "hated" Def Leppard. I actively thought to myself that I didn't like them. I said this to myself and others about Duran Duran too. Who was I fa-fa-fa foolin'?

rhetoric and modernity

Music: Elbow: Cast of Thousands (2003)

I've been reading and writing for two days, which I recall would have, at this point, produced an entire term paper for a graduate class. Somewhere between graduate school and professorship the time required for invention and composition lengthens. I hope this is because the "product" is better; I worry, however, if it's also because my brain is getting slower . . . certainly it is more addled.

On tap: a talk to be given at the first meeting of "The Modern Rhetoric Project," a collective my friend David Beard of the University of Minnesota at Duluth convened to think/work through what, exactly, "modern rhetoric" or "modern rhetorical theory" are, and then, what that portends for future teaching and research. Dave charged us with a series of questions, some definitional, some about pedagogy.

Frankly, I'm not sure I know what modernity is (I really like David Antin's famous definitional quip, but I fear it may be apocryphal, because it does not appear in the boundary 2 essay everyone cites). I recall in graduate school modernity and modernism were supposed to be bad things, but of course, I am now so thoroughly confused I think I'm just going to follow the lead of art, poetry, and Fred Jameson: it's a time period, and we're not in it now. I've read so much stuff this past week that makes these sweeping claims about the "modern" and "modernity" that the only thing I know for sure is that it's not "postmodernity" (whatever that is). How easily I forget "modern" is in the title of my first book!

Ok. So, here is a teaser of my talk. If you want to hear the whole thing, you'll just have to come to Minnesota at the end of the month. Alternately, stay tuned for the re-worked, revised, and amended version at RSA next May. Something smart will happen between October and May, I just know it!

HEARING THE SPEECH DEFECTIVES: MODERNITY AS PATHOLOGY IN RHETORICAL THEORY

Joshua Gunn
University of Texas at Austin

You think you're alone until you realize you're in it
Now fear is here to stay, love is here for a visit.
--Elvis Costello, "Watching the Detectives"[1]

I begin my remarks today by referencing Costello's lyricism for a number of reasons. The first is because the vivid image the song evokes is classically noir and chiaroscuro, a femme fatale watching hardboiled fedora-headed flatfoots on television instead of making love to her man. The song is visually evocative. And, I regret, the scenario is depressingly familiar.

The second reason is that, under the aegis of death, Costello's lyrics provide something of a cutesy transition from Professor Pfau's fears to the scene of visitation, the first part of a funeral in which the body of the deceased love one is on morbid display. The strong emotions of fear and love exhibited at any wake are, of course, muted in our present mourning. That pun is intended, particularly because I'm never up and speaking this early; to say I am a mourning person only pertains to my penchant for the sentimental-the reason I join you here. The cocking crows can go to hell.

Crowing is, of course, an expression of happiness and triumph, and this is hard to muster when asked to mutter about modernity for all the reasons---that is, instrumental reasons---that we know. Moreover, as Professor Aune has noted elsewhere and then again last evening,[2] the institutional politics of rhetorical studies concerns the passing of two commingled yet alloyed bodies, modernity and rhetoric, and working though those corpora forestalls any final burial. We seek to prolong the visitation, but we cannot hold on. We go, reluctantly, slumping toward Sodom,[3] which means, of course, that we go backwards, perhaps something like Benjamin's "angel of history." Our faces are turned to the past; we would like "to stay, awaken the dead, and make whole what has been smashed." But a storm is blowing from the project of the posts-or, if you prefer, those postal projects and slums of structuration-a storm that has got caught in our wings, carrying us into the Hills of Foucault and Lands of the Lost, I mean Lacan.[4]

All of this is to say I like the song because it allows for word play-as most lyrics do-and it is particularly demonstrative of our thinking about the intersection of modernity and rhetoric-cynical and romantic in equal measure. Like Costello's conception of relationships and Benjamin's concept of history, all rhetorical theories, antimodern, modern, or postmodern, figure on a mental image of bodies arranged in space. These bodies are commonly typed into two sorts-subject and object-and modern theories of love or history or rhetoric might be said to rest on the characterization of the relation between these typed bodies.

Professors Aune and Keith have corroborated that the subject body emerges in modernity as autonomous. Following the work of Esther Sánchez -Pardo on "modernist melancholia," my argument today is that in the domain of theory, modernism also represents a shift from philosophy as a route to knowledge toward psychology as a route to knowledge. The dominance of the Kantian subject becomes, by the twentieth century, an obsession with the psyche.[5] This implicates, in turn, an alteration in the attitudinal relation between subject and object: mastery. But mastery over what? And what is the object of rhetoric in modernity?

At first blush we are tempted to say that the object of rhetorical theory in modernity is speech or writing, and the imaginary of theory concerned the idealized delivery of this object from, as Aune put it last night, "an autonomous self to an audience of autonomous selves." As Pat Gehrke argues in his forthcoming book on the history of communication studies, however, an attention to the imagined scenes of rhetorical scholarship at the turn of the century reveals the "audience . . . became an object for the speaker to conquer, a target for the sharp words of a great orator."[6] As the subject body moved toward apotheosis at the height of modernity in the mind twentieth century, in the academic imaginary the object metamorphosed from the audience to the student. And it did so in the argot of pathology.

ENDNOTES

[1] Elvis Costello, "Watching the Detectives." My Aim is True. Hip-O Records (Universal), 2007 (1977).
[2] James Arnt Aune, "The Politics of Rhetorical Studies: A Piacular Rite." Quarterly Journal of Speech 92 (2006): 69-76.
[3] This is an oblique reference to the project of the critique of liberalism from the left, Sodom being the more radical counterpart to Bork's more conservative Gomorrah. See Robert Bork, Slouching Toward Gomorrah: Modern Liberalism and American Decline (New York: HarperCollins, 1996).
[4] Walter Benjamin, "The Concept of History," trans. Harry Zohn, Walter Benjamin, Selected Writings: Volume Four, 1938-1940, eds. Marcus Bullock, Howard Eiland, and Gary Smith (Cambridge: Belknap/Harvard, 2003 [1940]), 392.
[5] Ester Sánchez-Pardo198.
[6] Pat Gehrke, The Ethics and Politics of Speech: Communication and Rhetoric in the Twentieth Century (Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 2009), 16.
[7] Benjamin, "Concept," 390.

so zoom-camera under this arch

the object: a plea for suggested readings

Music: Pablo's EyeYou Have a Yearning for Perfection (1996)

Just when I thought I could barely keep my head above water---essays to write past due, a new course prep, job recommendation letters, guest lectures I stupidly agreed to deliver in the summer, revising essays for journals [insert more woe and self-pitying, self-centered and over-the-top whining]---I learn that I have to come up with a course description and book orders for a new graduate seminar next spring. The seminar is titled "The Object," and I am at this moment still rather clueless about what we should read.

I know what I want the course to accomplish: (1) we will survey anxieties over "the object" in modernity to postmodernity to better understand our own predicament as rhetorical scholars; (2) we will learn about and understand the histories of two disciplines: communication and cultural studies; (3) the example "object" we will examine will be "speech." (This will work nicely in tandem with the next course I offer, Rhetorical Criticism, for which the object is "text"). So far, so good.

In terms of the bigger picture, the course is really the counterpart to my course on subjectivity theory, "the Subject." This would imply the object is therefore, at some level, the Other, but that's only a small part of what I imagine the class to be. I'm blogging today about the ideas I have for the course in the hope that it will inspire some of you to suggest readings for the class.

I thought I would start with the onset of Modernity in the work of Kant, and in particular, is public feud with some neoplatonists over the object of "reason" (they get in a fight about which way of thinking "castrates" reason). This will feed nicely into psychoanalysis and object relations theory, where the object serves as a token of a person or figure. ("Phallus phallus here, phallus phallus there, everywhere a phallus phallus.") This is implies all objects---of desire, of the gaze, of criticism, and so on---serve an important, narcissistic function. [Insert more theoretical readings here]

Then, I thought we would, first, read about the history of the field of Speech Communication, and this in tandem with a book or two, or a handful of readings at least, on "speech" and "voice."

Second, I thought we could also do the same for cultural studies, tracing its history and anxieties about he object.

By course's end, we'll be into the dissolution of the object altogether in "postmodernity" (whatever that is)---Gaonkar on Object and Method, McGee on the textual fragment, Brummett on the mosaic, and so on---but also I want to focus on something in the wider humanities too. I'm thinking my course-line will be that postmodernity in the academy represents the lost object.

Lost objects, of course, lead to a sort of mournfulness or melancholia, and so the class will end with something like the critical act as mourning the object (even in the event of its constitution through criticism).

So, that's what I have got---not yet well defined, but it will be. I'll have it figured out over the winter break, for certain. Now, however, I need to think about what books I would like to assign. First, I need a good reader in cultural studies that addresses object anxiety and/or the field's history. Second, I need more theoretically oriented texts (readings or books) that take up the question, "what is the object?" or discuss anxieties about "the object." Any of you have suggestions out there?

Here's what I'm considering assigning (I won't assign all of this, it's just what I'm considering):

• Michel Chion, The Voice in Cinema
• Herman Cohen, The History of Speech Communication
• Steven Conner, Dumbstruck: A Cultural History of Ventriloquism
• Mladen Dolar, A Voice and Nothing More
• Larry Grossberg et al., Cultural Studies
• William Keith, Democracy as Discussion
• Walter Ong, The Presence of the Word
• Roy Orbison, In Dreams (Compact Disk)
• Clifford Nass and Scott Brave, Wired for Speech
• Kaja Silverman, The Acoustic Mirror
• Skinny Puppy, Greater Wrong of the Right (Compact Disk)

My buddies are a smart bunch, so I know y'all have some things to suggest!

on losing one's symbols

Music: And Also the Trees: (Listen for) The Rag and Bone Man (2007)

I finished reading Dan Brown's The Lost Symbol a couple of weeks ago, but have been waiting to post my thoughts about the novel because folks are still getting around to reading the book. In general, I think it's far superior to The Da Vinci Code for a number of reasons: it's less predictable; there are fewer "lectures"; and Brown frequently pokes fun at himself. I appreciated the self-depreciation, as it were. While this book also read like a screenplay, I also liked how much Brown referenced the book as a form; this is a novel very much about books (and their confrontation with video). It was a fun read, and Brown's writing---while still far from pretty---has improved. I have not read Angels and Demons, but those who have read it say that this newer one is closer to theme and style to Brown's Vatican thriller.

Now, for those who have yet to read the book and plan to, no worries: I'm not going to spoil it for you. I will say, however, that The Lost Symbol is a castration fantasy---the (lost) phallus to The Da Vinci Code's chalice, so to speak. Remember: in alchemy, it takes two. You got a lot about the chalice in the last book. This one's obsessed with the Washington Monument. (Where are Beavis and Butthead when you need them?)

As a Freemason, however, I do have a number of issues with the book and how it portrays the fraternity. Although it seems Brown did go out of his way to paint the Masons in a very positive light, he did so at the price of ignoring its sexist and racist past. The fraternity is exceedingly complicated, and its history, very complex and not easily detailed in a book---or a blog post, for that matter. Yes, men from all racial and sexual orientations can petition a lodge, but it was not always that way, and in some states it's not that way today. Yes, women do have a Masonic order (The Eastern Star), but notably a male, Master Mason must be present for ceremonies to be conducted. There's just no way to get around the masculine or patriarchal center of Masonry. The fraternity is changing---and owing to its sworn fidelity to tradition, very slowly---and the goodwill is there, but Masonry is simply much, much more complex than what Brown presents, and it's very far from being the egalitarian beacon that Brown suggests it to be.

Another major problem with the novel is that Brown presents Freemasonry as having some sort of central leadership, and that leadership is the Scottish Rite, seated at the House of the Temple in Washington, DC. This is grossly misleading. At best, Masonry in the U.S. is a decentralized "tribal" structure. Masonry came to the states when we were still colonies. Consequently, the Grand Lodge of the UK approved lodges under their leadership to each colony. Then there was this thing, the revolution, which severed ties to Britain. In the U.S., the decision was made to let each state have its own grand lodge and carry on as independent jurisdictions. This means that what is practiced in the lodge of one state differs from that of another: the ritual is different; the customs are different; etiquette is different; attitudes are different. Now, the ritual is very, very similar, and one can easily hold "Masonic communications" with Masons across state lines, but the wording is differs a bit from one state to the next. So, for example: I learned my ritual work in Louisiana, which is much longer than it is here in Texas. Yet, the Louisiana catechism is much shorter than the one memorized here in Texas. So, it's different.

Membership practices differ, sometimes wildly, between not only states, but districts within a state. Here in Texas we have people of color and gay men in some lodges in my district, while in other state distracts (e.g., outside of Austin) and in other states all masons are all white men.

In short, there is no centralized Freemasonry in the U.S.

Here are some other issues that irked me:

• Brown suggests that wealthy men can buy their way into the 33rd degree of the Scottish Rite. That's just preposterous. The 33rd degree is bestowed on Masons who have given a lifetime of service, either to the Craft or to humanity. It's a very serious honor, really, not so much a revelation of a secret rite or something. 33rd degree Masons are typically older and have done a lot of stuff with the Craft and/or with the community when they are asked to experience the degree. Owing to my job and the limited time I dedicate to Masonry and community service, I know I will not be a 33rd degree Scottish Rite Mason, and that's ok. Those who are 33rds are truly exceptional people, and did not get that recognition for their wealth. Period.
• The novel opens with a ritual that does not exist in official Masonry (drinking wine out of a skull). The ritual it advances is a "blending" of many different degrees, as well as a renegade degree (there's nothing stopping some folks making up degrees and calling them Masonic and then publishing them as such). Basically, Brown makes the ritual seem really, really cheesy. It's not so cheesy, and we don't drink from skulls. That would be cool and all. But it's not true. I worry men will start petitioning the Craft thinking it's a role playing game with swords and dragons and such . . . (it ain't).
• The novel presents the Scottish Rite as the supreme, central organization of Masonry. Actually, the Scottish Rite is simply the most visible of a host of related groups that have spun-off, so to speak, of Masonry. There is also the York Rite, the Shriners, Grotto, Eastern Star, and so on (the list is seemingly endless). Masonry is a basic three-degree system. We call that system the "Blue Lodge." One can petition the Scottish or York Rite after he is a Master Mason, but it's not required, nor is it expected. I am Scottish Rite, and this is because of the character of the degrees, which are non-denominational and, after Pike's revisions, just jaw-droppingly fascinating (lots of occult stuff is in them--alchemy, kabbalah, etc.). The York Rite, for example, is a Christian set of degrees. The Scottish Rite also has some fairly involved, extremely interesting rituals that one can study for a lifetime. I've been studying the first grouping of degrees, "the Lodge of Perfection," for some months. It's complicated.
• Brown suggests that the Masons guard a secret that so important that we'll let brethren die before we let it be revealed. That's just not true. No secret is above a man's life. Period. The secrets of Freemasonry are, at one level, various ways to recognize a fellow Mason (handshakes, words, etc.). At another level, however, the most profound secret of Masonry is the ineffable experience of each Mason---an incommunicable experience of transformation. That is secret because it cannot be put into words, just as any mystical or religious experience. Brown knows this, and yet . . . .
• Brown suggests degree work takes place at the House of the Temple. Understand that the House of the Temple is the business office and showpiece of the Scottish Rite---if ritual happens there, it's of the "special occasion" variety. Lately, it's been used in a lot of movies . . . .
• Brown's thriller concerns "publicity." Indeed, publicity is what the plot revolves around. He states he's very enamored of the Masons, but then doesn't have any problem with revealing some chunks of the degrees that are, more or less, secret (of the first kind). I'm not gonna say what chunks those are; I will say, though, that it's a bit hypocritical and the device he uses to "leak" ritual without seeming to leak ritual is really a cheap shot.

I think the book is great entertainment. What troubles me the most about The Lost Symbol, however, is the way in which Brown knows it will be read as truth. I've just spelled out some obvious untruths---and the liberties he took with Masonry. Yet, Brown insists on beginning the book with statements like "All organizations in this novel exist, including the Freemasons, the Invisible College, the Office of Security, the SMSC, and the Institute of Noetic Science" and (the most damning) "All rituals, science, artwork, and monuments in this novel are real."

Uh, no. The opening ritual is not. Nor are the honorary titles given to Masonic leaders. Nor is the suggestion that Masons covet a secret or symbol that cannot be revealed to all of mankind. None of that is true.

What is perhaps most annoying is the ending chapters, which are very preachy---overly preachy. Everything Tom and I wrote about in terms of the religious appeal of The Da Vinci Code applies even more so to this book: Brown unabashedly argues his book is delivering a spiritual truth in fiction, setting himself up as Master. Alchemy. Indeed.

it's synth-pop friday!

bérub-a-duba-gate

Music: Drone Zone from Soma FM

I've always admired the work of Michael Bérubé, and appreciated his willingness to take on Horowitz and respond to the accusations that the university classroom is a brainwashing zone. He's done a lot of good work representing the humanities to the world outside of the academy (and internally to education administrators). At least I admired his work and efforts until last week.

Recently, Bérubé deliberately chomped down on the proverbial hand that feeds by publishing an essay in the Chronicle of Higher Education titled, "What's the Matter with Cultural Studies?" Similar to Mark Taylor's strange anti-academic editorial in the New York Times last April, Bérubé's piece was (presumably) designed "to get people talking" by making statements that are critical or contrary to the discipline or field his livelihood has been built on. I bridle at the move not so much because our home fields deserve a measure of piety, nor because I think the discussion is tired (even though it is). Rather, I'm bothered by Bérubé's rhetoric and his rhetorical choices, and what they may indicate about motive, conscious or unconscious: what does a consistent failure to define key terms, the lack of evidence to support grand claims, and a relative lack of historical consciousness collectively say in answer to the question, "why this essay today?" In other words, the essay seems like a cheap shot. So why make it?

Now, to be honest I dithered all day on whether to post a response to the shout-out on Crooked Timber because I didn't want to give the essay even more attention. I don't think the essay is worthy of any more engagement; it's a tar pit, and no one should stick a foot in. As I noted over on The Blogora, Bérubé's essay is "bullshit"---which apparently delights him---but I did not mean "bullshit" in terms of nonsense. Rather, I mean the term in its long-standing---that is, centuries long---rhetorical sense: disingenuousness. The best response----I know, I know----is not to spend time showing where he makes the mistakes of informal logic, or as Jim Aune points out, where he mixes his metaphors ("The period of theoretical ferment that began in the late 1960s and gained traction in the 1970s seemed to have reached the boiling point."). But since I’m implicated in this whole "food fight" by name---and since visits to this blog increased by a third today---[sigh] I should elaborate in response to the tacit call to be "more helpful."

So, back to my question of motive: why this essay, and why this essay now? To begin to answer the question, we have to (unfortunately) rehearse the substance of his essay to put it on the backburner, where it should be. His argument is not very clear. He first advances his major claim after locating the birth of cultural studies in Britain and lauding, in particular, the first Birmingham School book:

In that time [over the last thirty years or so], has cultural studies transformed the disciplines of the human sciences? Has cultural studies changed the means of transmission of knowledge? Has cultural studies made the American university a more egalitarian or progressive institution? Those seem to me to be useful questions to ask, and one useful way of answering them is to say, sadly, no. Cultural studies hasn't had much of an impact at all.

So, the major claim is that cultural studies has not had much of an impact on the institution of the academy, nor on any one discipline. He then proceeds to list a series of "institutional" and "intellectual" reasons in support of his major claim. Among them are: (a) overblown "trimuphalism" about the impact of cultural studies; (b) most universities do not have a cultural studies department; (c) cultural studies has not made a significant impact on fields external to the humanities; (d) rightly or wrongly, it has been received as "coextensive with the study of popular culture"; (e) tragically, cultural studies has been defended as having no method and no object; (f) it has made no political impact; and (f) it only has one, big, neoliberalism hammer and assumes people are dupes.

There is, of course, a major problem with the informal reasoning here: equivocation with the term "cultural studies." It would seem Bérubé leans heavily on the more standard narrative of how cultural studies came to the states (via the Birmingham School), but then "cultural studies" seems to become a floating signifier for this or that group (the 1990 meeting at Illinois, then mass media critical scholars, then the critics of neoliberalsim a la Hardt and Negri, etc.). Bérubé routinely mentions "the field" and "cultural studies" as if it were unified or coherent, but it's not, and what cultural studies means at one place is anthropology or philosophy at another. If cultural studies is more of an anti-discipline and floating signifier given meaning only in context, it really is really difficult to make sweeping claims like "cultural studies is dead."

Today Bérubé qualified and explained how he defines "cultural studies" over on Crooked Timber (finally!). This is helpful, but the "damage" has already been done in the polemic. And he still defends cultural studies as an "it." If one must spend paragraph after paragraph defending one's choice to refer to cultural studies in the singular, as an "it," perhaps it ain't a singular "it." While I do think "rhetorical studies" is much more coherent and can be referred to as an "it," a unified concept of sorts, my own advisor taught me well by making me read his essay, "On Not Defining Rhetoric" . . . . but I digress.

Even if we can operate "as if" cultural studies were coherent (say, as a place continental philosophers went to do work, squeezed out of philosophy departments by the analytical folks), and I would grant there is something singular in the term (after all, were talking about "it") we must then take-up the issue of novelty: the failures of cultural studies constitute a very dead horse. Even Bérubé says, "I am getting very cranky in my late 40s, and I have now heard versions of this gambit for over twenty years . . . ." Exactly. And so he decides to throw the dice?

From the day I started reading Grossberg's famous collection of essays as an undergraduate, to the anxiety rife discussions at Northwestern at a six week institute on the question of "method in/and cultural studies," it has been obvious to me that "cultural studies" would always have its identity in question, and this is precisely because it is constituted as a non-unified "field." There are active efforts, in fact, to do so. Cultural studies seems better poised as a disposition with an institutional history rather than some sort of intellectual trajectory. There is something foundational, and it's a history, an origin narrative, and a set of values, but "the field" only coheres in relation to a certain group of people making certain arguments (perhaps this is why Bérubé keeps coming back to Hall).

So, I'm still saying it's silly to speak as if cultural studies makes sense as some unity; it makes pronouncements about its relatively fertility or impotence seem like wheel-spinning to me. So, again: Why are people engaging Bérubé on this essay? It's more horse beating. Tired horse beating.

So, if (1) Bérubé constitutes a unity when none exists; and (2) is making old and tired claims, we are left with the only important question: Why this essay, and why this essay now? This is a rhetorical question (in the earnest sense). Alternately put: what is the larger context for this essay? What reason explains why Bérubé chose this moment to say something negative about an anti-disciplinary discipline?

It's instructive to see how Bérubé characterizes his own rhetoric:

I'm saying [cultural studies hasn't had much of an impact at all] baldly and polemically for a reason. I know there are worthy programs in cultural studies at some North American universities, like Kansas State and George Mason, where there were once no programs at all. I know that there is more interdisciplinary work than there was 25 years ago; there is even an entire Cultural Studies Association, dating all the way back to 2003. But I want to accentuate the negative in order to point out that over the past 25 years, there has been a great deal of cultural-studies triumphalism that now seems unwarranted and embarrassing.

Such grandiose pronouncements beg for examples (whose triumphalism? his own? to what literature does he refer?). But more significantly, Bérubé never provides his reason for saying that "cultural studies hasn't had much of an impact at all." He is critiquing cultural studies "for a reason," he says, but that reason is never discussed. Is he worried about students on the job market? Is he angered by assumptions that cultural studies have/has "made it," (and if so, why is he angered)? He never really says. And so we have to go digging for this reason. It's one thing to argue that cultural studies is dead or dying or failed or whatever, which I've already said is something of a dead horse. Our concern should be, again, why is he arguing this, and why is he arguing it now? What is the purpose of this rhetoric for our times?

Presumably, the most laudable rationale is to goad cultural studies (whatever that is) to complicate its theories and better promote itself inside and outside the academy. In later remarks, Bérubé suggests the problem with "cultural studies" is fundamentally one of PR:

. . . cultural studies has a serious image problem, and it can get pretty depressing explaining to colleagues (and students!) in other disciplines that actually, Michael Warner and Chantal Mouffe are more important to the field than Jon and Kate [note to people who don’t follow the adventures of Jon and Kate: never mind, it’s not important]. That image problem is, in some precincts, even worse outside the university. Read some of the nonacademic responses Tom Frank's One Market Under God---they're even more depressing.

Hopefully, one notices the irony of such a pronouncement: cultural studies needs to do a better PR campaign, and Bérubé has certainly got that project off to a good start! (Indeed, Bérubé's critique of cultural studies comes precisely at the time graduate students are scrambling on the job market, and at a time when the theoretical humanities are struggling to justify their continued existence).

More importantly, however, I think the ending of the essay is its own best evidence. Here's how hegemony "actually works," in a telling line at the end of the essay: " Michael Bérubé is a professor of English at Pennsylvania State University at University Park. His next book, 'The Left at War,' will be published by New York University Press in November." If we cannot help ourselves on the InterTubes, at the very least we can avoid buying and reading the book Bérub-a-duba-Gate 2009 is designed to promote.

the joys of publishing, continued

Music: The Boo Radley's: Everything's Alright Forever (1992)

The proofing process at a certain journal grinds on. I first detail my frustrations with the post-acceptance proof here. After submitting five, single-spaced pages of corrections to the proof, the editor responded thusly. Yesterday I received another note from the editor; apparently a three-fold team of folks associated with the journal decided a line-by-line response to our requested suggestions was in order.

Ok, all you budding scholars out there: this is not normal. It's unusual to have proofs come to you for approval in such bad shape. It's also unusual to see an editor so defensive about stuff. I mean, I had editors literally rewrite my sentences---but heck, the sentences were usually better as a result. Perhaps I am misreading the situation; apparently I've been doing that online lately.

Anyhoo, so it's not so much the editor that's giving us a hard time as it is someone at the "national office" of the organization who publishes the journal---a non academic, I suspect, and one who cites style manuals with the evangelical zeal of a bible-thumper. As I was responding to their "response" to our corrections, I caught myself laughing aloud and saying, "seriously?" Thinking about this I'm laughing as I type this.

I won't clobber y'all with the entire response I sent back today. But I want to share some particularly funny tidbits (I'm especially amused by our reference to bad bible verses). Our replies are in boldface, and our original requests/pose is in italics. The editors' prose is plain:

Howdy Folks,

Below we respond to your response to requested changes. Since this is a new process for us, we don't know quite how to respond to the response. To make this easier to read, our comments in are GREEN. Following your lead, we respond item by item below:

p. 397, line 5: This author's name is backwards, and the co-author's name is missing. This line should read: "Joshua Gunn and __________"
--no problem, this will be corrected

Great!

p. 397, lines 9-18: Someone has re-written our abstract, and it no longer makes sense. We request our original abstract be put back in:

In this essay we argue that the rhetoric of Foss, Waters, and Armada's recent work on "agentic orientation," as well as the rhetoric of the popular bestselling DVD and book The Secret, are typical of "magical voluntarism." Magical voluntarism is an idealist understanding of human agency in which a subject can fulfill her needs and desires by simple wish-fulfillment and the manipulation of symbols, irrelevant of structural constraint or material limitation. Embracing magical voluntarism, we argue, leads to narcissistic complacency, regressive infantilism, and elitist arrogance. A more materialist and dialectical understanding of agency is better.

--We strictly adhere to APA, 5th edition. Word limit for abstract is 120—please edit down to that word limit [above has 133 words]

Ok, we deleted a sentence so there are 95 words. Is it possible to copy and paste the italicized abstract above? If not, let us know and we'll send the revised abstract another way.

[. . . snip . . . ]

p. 400, line 21: the numeral "2" should be changed to the word "two." In humanities writing, numbers less than 20 are usually spelled-out. We prefer "two" to "2." If the press insists on a numeral, then we would prefer the would prefer "last couple of centuries" than "2." Having the numeral "2" appear in the text makes us look foolish to our colleagues in the humanities.

--we will change 2 with “last couple of centuries”—however the APA rule is: APA 5th ed., pg. 124, rule 3.42-e: “Use figures to express numbers that represent time.” We will abide by this rule, as we do throughout all articles published in this journal.

Ok, but as with any documentation style, there are always exceptions and allowances. For example, according to APA 5th ed., pg. 125, rule 3.43a: "Use words to express . . . numbers below 10 that do not represent precise measurements and that are grouped for comparison with numbers below ten." Our phrase, "two centuries," refers to spans of time, however, it is not a reference to a precise measurement, as with "2 weeks ago" or "March 30, 1994." It is, in other words, an inexact reference, which is why "couple" will work just as well. In general, all style guides allow for some flexibility when strict adherence would lead to a confusion of meaning. We believe for some readers, "2 centuries" appears strange. (Thankfully, no one adheres to the 20th chapter of Leviticus as strictly).

[. . . snip . . . ]

p. 409, line 3: "2" should be "two."

--: APA 5th ed., pg. 124, rule 3.42-e: “Use figures to express numbers that represent time.”

See comment for p. 400 above. If we cannot use "two," we would prefer the line to read, ". . . characterized in the last couple of centuries." [. . . snip . . . ]

These are the corrections you requested.

Many thanks for correcting all these issues. We hope our response meets without objection.

Cordially,

Tweedle Dum and Doktor D.

________________________________________________________

I confess I am not a detail-oriented person. But I must also say that I've never quite encountered such fascistic tendencies in the post-acceptance process, either. I suspect this is a consequence of publishing a humanities-style essay in a mostly quantitative, social-scientific journal.

it's synth-pop friday!

on my recent lack of blogging

Music: Saint Etienne: So Tough (1993)

Sunday: Read the paper, watch political shows. Clip coupons. Feed neighbors pets. Read background material for new "celebrity culture class," talk to mother. Finish blind reviewing essay for journal.

Monday: Read and research material for new "celebrity culture" class; begin composing lecture and making Keynote slides. Feed neighbor's pets. Exercise. Shrink. Lodge. Finish reading for graduate seminar. Email email email.

Tuesday: Finish lecture and slides for "celebrity culture" class. Feed neighbor's pets. Go to school, teach class. Come home quickly to walk the dog, finish graduate lecture. Graduate seminar. Post-seminar at Hole in the Wall. Return home, feed animals. Sure, I'll look over your essay. Collapse.

Wednesday: Read and research material for new "celebrity culture" class; begin composing lecture and making Keynote slides. Feed neighbor's pets. Exercise. What? Three more essays to review for journals? No. NO. "Can't get to it until late November," I say. Surely that honest answer will cause editor to move to someone else. Prepare guest lecture for introduction to cultural studies class. Deliver guest lecture. Grocery store for food. Begin prepping lecture.

Thursday: "Thanks for agreeing to review those essays; late November is fine." Blog about not having time to blog. Finish lecture and slides for "celebrity culture" class. Feed neighbor's pets. Deliver lecture. Meet with students for office hour. Meet with graduate student/friend. Review RSA abstracts. Meet with another student. Begin composing recommendation letter for student. Meet with graduate student/friend for dinner. Read The Lost Symbol.

Friday: Sleep in. 8:00 a.m., feed neighbor's pets. Comment on grad reading responses. Read friend's essay draft. Exercise. More RSA abstracts to review. It's synth-pop friday! Phone calls to sick and elderly brother Masons. Lunch. Make shopping list, go shopping. Back to school for professional seminar. Post-seminar happy hour. Home for dinner. Prepare dish for potluck on Saturday night. Finish The Lost Symbol.

Saturday: Sleep in. 8:30 a.m., email catch-up. Neighbors are back, no pet duty. Tidy up office. Read friend's essay, make comments. Review more RSA abstracts. Exercise (maybe). Review materials for graduate seminar. Begin reading background for new "celebrity culture" class. Tidy up downstairs. Prepare food, head for potluck. Late night return.

Sunday: Rinse. Repeat.

fifth CRTNET post preview

I recently submitted a post to CRTNET, which I hope will appear tomorrow. For folks who do not know, CRTNET is an email list service published by the National Communication Association. It is used for announcements, calls, job postings, and discussions. According to the CRTNET archive, I have published a total of 17 times since 1996, about once a year, on average. A majority of those posts were announcements. Four of them were discussion items: one about the boy scouts, one about the history of cultural studies, one in response to a scholar who attacked a journal in our field, and one about the recent hotel boycott. I am about to post, then, my fifth discussion piece.

As an aside: in general, I think it is not wise to post on CRTNET because it has thousands upon thousands of subscribers. If something is said, it should be well thought out and not hasty. In general, those who post frequently on CRTNET are regarded unfavorably. To post on the service frequently on this or that minor issue or quibble is a waste of time for a very large audience. So, in general, I don't think posting on CRTNET is wise unless the issue is of major importance to most subscribers.

I think recent policy changes by the NCA are abusive and single out graduate students. I don't think this singling-out is conscious, but I do think our grads are getting screwed. It's one of my professional hobby-horses. The Rhetoric Society of America has recently really gone out of their way to make their conferences affordable to students, bending over backwards to help. NCA has done the opposite. It makes me angry.

So, here's a sneak-peek at the post:

I am writing to express my strong disappointment with NCA's recent decision to force early registration for the annual conference. I am also writing to criticize the disingenuous rationale offered by NCA staff for this policy change, as well as the underlying attitude toward NCA members that the registration policy seems to represent.

For the past two years or so, our national, professional organization has been forcing scholars, teachers, and students who appear on the tentative program into "early bird" registration in September. Let me offer three practical reasons for why this policy is misguided, and then comment on the larger ideology that funds the policy.

First, early registration is +too early+. For many program participants, requiring payment by mid-September is a financial hardship. For many if not most educators, the official school year begins on or shortly before September 1st. What this means is that the first paycheck for the year tends to arrive on or around October 1st. A September 17th deadline for registration comes before many of us have been paid. This is especially difficult for graduate students, many of whom struggle to make ends meet (notably, summer teaching opportunities are not guaranteed for anyone at many places, especially for graduate students). Although I understand our national office needs to plan, the timing of early registration is simply +too+ early for the most financially challenged in our organization.

Second, early registration assumes members will use a credit card. Many members do not own or use credit cards. In this dour economy, in fact, not using one's credit---if she has any left---is advisable. Early registration is, at least indirectly, a request for members to use credit in an economic environment that actively discourages it.

Third, early registration requires the national office to be technologically primed. For the past two years the fax machine at NCA headquarters has been malfunctioning on or around the registration deadline. If the national office is going to force members to pay early to participate in the program, they need to at least have the infrastructure set up to handle early registration. Because early registration is at the beginning of the school year, the office (and its equipment) should be prepared for a wave of last minute registrants.

What troubles me more than the imposition of early registration is the disingenuous rationale given by national office staff: the printing of the program. Two days before the deadline, I emailed the national office to request an extension on registration, as a series of unexpected emergencies this summer evacuated my savings. Of course, I was told no extension was possible. Then, a NCA membership manager offered the following explanation:

"The September 17 deadline is for participants to be included in the program. This is the latest date we can have and still produce a program for the convention. There is no extension of the deadline possible for participants to be listed in the program because of the production time needed."

Such a rationale is disingenuous at best.

Instead of engaging a lie, lets discuss the real reason for this recent change in registration policy. As former NCA President Martha Watson wrote in the October 2005 SPECTRA, the annual convention "has a plague of what might kindly be called cd's: convention deadbeats." In her editorial on the criminality of the convention deadbeat, Watson noted "the leadership of NCA continues to investigate the problem of the cd's and to explore solutions. One idea is to simply drop persons from the conference who do not register or pay a membership by a certain date." Of course, this "solution" has come to pass. The reason for forcing program participants to register early +is not+ the production of the program, then, which appears to be the national office's party line. The reason is for getting money out of the dreaded deadbeat.

Not coincidentally, who is most likely to skip registering for NCA? The student, of course. The student is precisely the person who needs professional development the most. The student is precisely the person who attends the no-host, not to schmooze, but simply to eat! In short, the early registration deadline punishes precisely the kind of person who could use the most charity. In this respect, early registration replicates a class system in which the least powerful and disadvantaged are getting "disciplined" by those in power.

In the context of the national office's actions in the last few years---I stress the well-known distinction between the office and leadership---it is difficult to describe this "deadbeat solution" as representing anything more than a growing, bottom-line-driven antipathy toward NCA's members, especially students. Of course, the national office's silence and inaction regarding homophobia and the boycott of last year's convention---until the eleventh hour---demonstrated a certain attitude toward its membership. This attitude is reflected, increasingly, in management and policy decisions that have a certain us/them character. Forcing early bird registration on program participants is part of that attitude.

I recognize that NCA has grown and is growing quickly, and this growth creates all sorts of challenges. A number of respected colleagues work hard behind the scenes and within NCA leadership for positive change as we grow. I'm very pleased we are searching for a new executive director; this is a positive step. Art Bochner served marvelously as the recent president and I'm thankful for his service and the changes he helped to shepherd. Betsy Bach is continuing that competent leadership style.

What I'm writing about is more of a structural attitude or ideology that repositions NCA as a business in service to the bottom line, as opposed to a professional organization that should serve its members---not penalize and punish them! I am not concerned here with individual people, but rather the structure or culture of the national office and the corporatized direction it seems to be heading. Deliberately not doing anything about the problem with the conference hotel last year--at least until it was too late--is a symptom of this larger problem. Failing to make exceptions and to help the most disadvantaged members is a symptom of this larger problem. Forced early registration is a symptom of this larger problem. And lying about the reasons behind early registration is also a symptom of this larger problem.

The national office needs to extend registration deadlines to students so that they can remain on the program, and it should do so +this year+ (Perhaps only those who are not registered as "students" should be dropped from the program?). For next year's conference, consideration should also be made for those individuals who would like to remain on the program but are better able to register in October. And beyond this, NCA leadership needs to work on correcting this "us/them" attitude discernable in NCA policies and rhetoric, including its conspicuous silences on matters of controversy.

The International Communication Association and the Rhetoric Society of America are increasingly attractive homes to NCA members, and this is not simply because they are smaller. Perhaps NCA can learn something from how ICA and RSA treat their members?

drafty proposal

Music: Soma FM: "Drone Zone"

Panel Proposal for the Bi-Annual Meeting of The Rhetoric Society of America Minneapolis, MN, 2010

The Sounds of Rhetoric

Participants:

[SNIP]

THE SOUNDS OF RHETORIC

An original screenplay

Production Draft
September 13th, 2009

BLANK SCREEN: The voice of a person delivering a research paper fades into the audible range. Another voice fades up-again, someone giving an academic paper. The word "rhetoric" is heard. Voice after voice is layered onto each other until there is a din of voices delivering concurrent papers. The sound fades slightly into background noise, and then . . .

FADE IN: 30 SOUTH SEVENTH STREET, DOWNTOWN MINNEAPOLIS

WIDE-SHOT, AERIAL: Man appears on street corner just below eye-level; strangely, he is wearing a white dress with a black corset. ZOOM. The dress appears to be German in origin owing to shoulder straps and the obvious, Germanic cut; a beaming smile appears on the man's face. ZOOM: It is now clear that the man is wearing a blonde, bob wig. ZOOM: Camera continues to focus closer and closer, and the viewer notices a ring of freshly cut daisies encircle the man. The zoom ends in a still CLOSE-UP in which the viewer can see the nametag appearing on man's chest. CLOSE-UP OF NAME TAG: It reads, "Jack Selzer."

ZOOM OUT: Camera pulls-out to swelling, orchestral music.

SELTZER: MIDDLE SHOT of JACK, he twirls in place with his arms held out, and then dramatically approaches the stationary camera. In close range, JACK begins to sing, moving his arms out away from his chest in expressive glee:

"The Twin Cities are alive with the sound of rhetoric!
With words that have been said for thousands of years!
The Cities fill my heart with the sound of rhetoric!
My heart wants to declaim every paper it hears!"

LOUD SOUND: NEEDLE-SCRATCHING-RECORD, THE SCREEN SUDDENLY GOES BLANK. A CALM, COLLECTED, ALTOGETHER RATIONAL AND SCHOLARLY-SOUNDING VOICE SAYS:

This comical and unlikely scene serves to underscore that conferences are heard, not seen. Ironically, since the abandonment of elocution in the early twentieth century, the study of how vocalics, tone, pitch, and other elements of oral delivery has been on a steady decline. Yet, the influence of the human voice-either written or spoken-remains central to everyday suasive encounters, such as at an academic conference. The devaluation of the oral also seems to have also led to the neglect of the sonorous or aural qualities of suasive discourse, broadly construed. This panel seeks to promote more scholarly attention to the rhetorical dimensions of sound. The scholars presenting will focus on music, sound production, and political discourse, mapping the many dimensions of sound's rhetorical purchase in our contemporary culture(s).

Co-Chairs: [SNIP]

Paper One: [SNIP]

Paper Two: [SNIP]

Paper Three: [SNIP]

Paper Four: "Killing Them Loudly: Rhetorics of Sonic Torture"

Authors: Mirko Hall and Joshua Gunn
Presenter: Mirko Hall

Since 2006, NYU musicologist Suzanne Cusick has published a series of articles about the development of torture techniques using recorded music. As a consequence of her scholarship, the Society for Ethnomusicology publicly condemned the U.S. military for using sonic torture techniques on Iraqi detainees at various prison facilities on ethical grounds (e.g., as "cruel" and "inhumane"). In this paper, we examine the arguments for and against sonic torture in order to tease-out the implicit and explicit theories of influence assumed by proponents and detractors. We conclude by showing how an understanding of these competing theories demands a more systematic and probing investigation of the rhetorical dimensions of sound.

three reasons why joe wilson is a racist

Music: Talk Talk: Laughing Stock (1991)

The trusty Oxford English Dictionary tells us in the 1989 revision that a "lie" is "an act or instance of lying; a false statement made with the intent to deceive; a criminal falsehood." As everyone at this point knows, South Carolina representative Joe Wilson interrupted the president's address to a joint congress by shouting, "you lie!" not once, but twice. He asserted, in other words, that Obama was making a false statement (in this case, concerning whether or not the health care initiatives he proposed would provide service to illegal immigrants), a false statement that was made with the intention to deceive. Presumably, the president was trying to deceive the television audience, since most of the congresspersons in the room would have (well, should have) a working knowledge of the president's proposals.

What is both amusing and disturbing about the fall-out this week regarding Wilson's angry outburst is that no one is calling him out for being a racist. Let me be clear:

Joe Wilson's statement was racist.

If it appears that I am collapsing what Wilson said and did with who Wilson is, I confess that I am. I would make an authority appeal for doing so---"trust me, I know, I'm from the south and know how to read such rhetorical righteousness"---but I know the more conservative of Rosechron's readers won't go for that. So, let me make the case for why Wilson's statement, indeed, his whole performance, is racist, and then suggest what is troubling about the fall-out and the MSM's failure to take-up the much larger story here, that Wilson's "symptom" is part of a much larger, hateful political movement emboldened by Wilson's defiant posturing.

Again, consulting our standard of English meaning, we find that racisim is:

The belief that all members of each race possess characteristics, abilities, or qualities specific to that race, especially so as to distinguish it as inferior or superior to another race or races. Hence: prejudice and antagonism towards people of other races, esp. those felt to be a threat to one's cultural or racial integrity or economic well-being; the expression of such prejudice in words or actions. Also occas. in extended use, with reference to people of other nationalities.

I think the last qualification, probably added with the 1989 revision (I'm not sure), is particularly important. What it means is that race is a mark, an identifier, not necessarily the "color of one's skin," as is often assumed. Strictly speaking, "race" is a cultural category used to label someone as "other," or "not like me." What we call "race" is not based in science, genetic or otherwise, and it is commonly assumed race is therefore a negotiated category (this is not to say there are not genetic variations or "frequencies," marks for phenotypic difference, and so on---it's to say, rather, that what we dub "race" didn't come from science, it came from culture). In other words, that I can "racialize" a white Canadian who looks almost identical to me---think about the word "kanuck," which used to be offensive---means that race is what we call a "floating signifier": a word that doesn't have a stable signified or referent. Race is a "concept" that applies to a broad spectrum of references depending on context (so does gender, for that matter). Instead of thinking about race as a thing, we should think about it as a function: what does race do? It marks difference. And as the OED definition points out, the difference is marked because of a fear of a threat of some kind.

What, then, do we have with "race?" We have a floating signifier used to mark difference out of fear. Fear from what? The OED responds "cultural" or "racial integrity" or "economic well-being." Yes, you argumentation theory mavens, we're still operating at the analytic level here---but note how the OED sneaks in a little synthetic statement through affect.

Now, let's move back to Joe Wilson's statement, "you lie!" What was Obama saying when Wilson charged him with intentional dishonesty? "There are also those who claim that our reform efforts will insure illegal immigrants. This too is false! The reforms, the reforms I’m proposing would not apply to those here illegally." Obama's statement is that illegal immigrants will not benefit from health care reform. Wilson asserts this is an intentionally deceptive statement. In his apology, Wilson elaborated:

It [my outburst] was spontaneous. It was when he stated, as he did, about not covering illegal aliens, when I knew we had those two amendments, and I say that respectfully . . . . We need to be discussing issues specifically to help the American people. And that would not include illegal aliens. These are people -- I'm for immigration -- legal immigration. I've been an immigration attorney. But people who have come to our country and violated laws, we should not be providing full health care services . . . . "

"These are people," Wilson begins, but stops himself short. What does Wilson stop short of saying? "These are people who ______ X," right? He was about to define what kind of person an "illegal alien" is, but stopped himself. He was about to describe the other. He was about to say, "these people who take our opportunity and rob us of our stuff!"

To think more critically about Wilson's statement, we need to note first that he is wrong. Neither amendment Wilson indicates provides for the coverage of illegal aliens. At best, he could be charging that the wording of the amendments is ambiguous enough to allow for the possibility of coverage for an illegal alien here and there---but really, that's stretching it. It's one thing to say the wording of the legislation is ambiguous and may allow for illegal aliens. It's quite another, however, to suggest Obama is deliberately lying so that illegal aliens can get covered. The latter is what Wilson was suggesting with "you lie!" His outburst, however spontaneous, could be described as a "lie" itself---doing precisely what he is accusing the president of doing.

Of course, many commentators have noted that the repeated appeals of the "conservative right" to stop "illegal immigration" are racist. "Illegal Immigrant" is just another racist signifier for "the other who threatens to take away my cultural, racial, and economic integrity." In the popular imaginary, the scenario appealed to is the climax of The Night of the Living Dead, where white people (oh yeah, and one black man) are trapped in a shack with racialized others trying to pour in and eat them/their stuff. Well, I digress: again, "stop those illegal immigrants!" is an obvious appeal to fear based on racialized difference, or if you prefer, difference as such.

Regardless, Wilson's statement at the level of content, "health care reform will help illegal immigrants" is tantamount to saying, "health care reform will help the Jew" or the "ni----r" or "the s---k" or "the g--k." Such an observation does not discount the real problems that illegal immigrants create in this country---especially in Texas. I'm simply pointing out that there is nothing prima facie "bad" about the concept of "illegal immigrant" except, er, the "illegality" I suppose (those of you who steal cable are "illegal," as are those of you who download MP3s . . . .). But what makes the term a "devil term" is not "illegal," but rather that "illegal immigrant" is associated with the fear or threat of a racialized other. What reasons do people give for opposing immigrants? Racial integrity (mixed raced children), cultural integrity (no Spanish, English only!), and economic integrity ("they'll take our jobs!"). Consequently, fear appeals about illegal immigration, even on the rhetorical surface, are by definition racist.

Let us bracket, for the moment, the racist undertones of getting righteous about illegal immigrants and turn, next, to the context of Wilson's outburst. Many news stations and programs have been showing clips of British Parliament and other world governing bodies that display an obvious incivility: people throwing things, screaming, booing, profane signs held up by elected officials, and so forth. Presumably, such clips are used to show how "good" we have it in the United States, and that things could be much worse than Wilson's outburst.

The problem with this MSM reasoning, of course, is that it completely ignores the context of our system, for which the word "lie" is banned. No matter how heated the discussion, the norms of decorum in both the House and the Senate are such that one is enjoined to never accuse others of deceit. In part, such norms are governed by the idealized "public sphere" which, we recall, Habermas said includes the assumption of equality and bracketing of social status, respect for all ideas, the moderation of emotions, and so forth. Wilson's statement violated many norms of public discourse, not just the prohibition against calling someone a liar. He interrupted the President of the United states, implying he was not of a special status. Worse, such an outburst implies that the president is not worthy of equality or due consideration. In other words, Wilson's outburst means that he did not think (a) the president was worthy of equal status or respect; and (b) that the president's views were not worthy of being heard. What such a statement says, in other words, belies everything he said in his presumed apology: "you lie!" is not about the president's views or policy recommendations, it's about his person. It is not a statement of fact---we know Wilson was, in fact, wrong---it's a statement of about the value of the president as a person. It is a classic ad hominem, a "to the person" attack.

So, we have two observations: (a) the illegal immigrant issue appeals to racism; and (b) an ad hominem attack on the president of the United States as a deliberate deceiver. Do (a) and (b) have anything in common? Oh, gee whiz, why yes, they do! They both concern the racialized other. Obama, in case you didn't know, is black. So we must ask the question: would Wilson have felt compelled to call a white person a liar? Before you answer that question, let us move on to exhibit C.

The oldest living politician to serve in the Senate was Strom Thurmond, a former governor of South Carolina who came to national prominence on a vocally racist, segregationist platform. Not long after Thurmond's death in 2003, Esse Mae Washington-Williams came forth to reveal she was the daughter of Thurmond, born to a black maid Thurmond employed in 1925. It was revealed Thurmond supported Washington-Williams financially throughout her life, and actually took a strong interest in her welfare (and apparently she was treated like a family member). This news, of course, makes Thurmond a complex man indeed---and certainly helps to demonstrate how race is "a floater." Nevertheless, Joe Wilson declared to the media that the revelation was "a smear on the image that [Thurmond] has as a person of high integrity who has been so loyal to the people of South Carolina." Although---as with the recent snafu---Wilson was forced to apologize, he still maintains that Washington-Williams should have remained quiet about whom her father was, presumably to keep up appearances (those from the South are well acquainted with this one).

Is the reason that Thurmond's heroic reputation was damaged was because he had a child out of wedlock? Or is it because his child is part African American? Or is it because Thurmond abused his power and prayed upon a 16 year old woman/girl in his employ? Or is it because a visibly and vocally racist man revealed himself not only to be a sexual predator, but a hypocrite?

Regardless of how one answers this question, Wilson's chosen stance---to condemn the racialized child of a well-known and vocal racist---really sort of seals the deal on what saying "you lie!" to the President of the United States on national television means: "You're a ni---r! and I want my constituents and the white-right to hear me call you out!" Let's not play dumb here, as it seems our journalists of national prominence continue to want to do. As I said, I'm from the south and I know how to read all these affective codes; so do most of us raised in the land of people like Wilson. And I want to say everyone watching the president last week knew exactly what was being said. Everyone with a a body that feels and reacts knew what was happening; it was a racist gesture, through and through.

So if you don’t buy my appeal to authority, maybe these three reasons are enough to convince you? If not, sorry. I did my best. I confess that "knowing" Wilson did a racist thing is, in fact, more felt than reasoned, a sort of knee-jerk kind of knowing, the same kind of knee-jerk, unspoken knowing that inspired many to make signs that say "you lie! you lie! you lie!" and parade about at City Halls and capitals everywhere, tea-partying their hatreds and wallowing about in fear and . . . lies.

Finally, if Wilson's remarks are read "symptomatically," as many have suggested that we should, what is it a symptom of? I worry it's a symptom of a growing, racialized backlash of whiteness, a backlash riding the wave of hatred I blogged about recently, which seemed to characterize this summer's televisual displays. Note that in discussing his refusal to offer another apology to Congress, Wilson stated his outburst was akin to what happened in the Town Hall meetings this summer. Is this an explanation, or a call to solidarity? I think it's the latter. And I think and feel that's something to be really fearful about.

it's synth-pop friday!

stirred, not shaken

Music: Marconi Union: Tokyo (2009)

I'm trying to prep a lecture tomorrow on Nancy Fraser's critique of the public sphere and Angela Ray's deployment of the concept of "public culture." Basically, for my undergraduate class in celebrity I'm using Angela's work on the lyceum as a corrective to public sphere theory (Angela brings feelings and diversity back to the "table," so to speak, with her discussion of politics and public spectacle). All I can think about, however, is Obama's speech tonight to the joint session.

(And the police helicopters that keeps circling over my condo complex; I'm out here on the patio smoking a stogie . . . searchlight keeps flashing around . . . crap . . . maybe I should go inside?)

Since the inauguration I have been increasingly cynical of Obama's rhetoric, which seemed too cliché-ridden and too ubiquitous . . . . Yet as my buddy Mirko said on the phone tonight, "when the stakes are high, he always delivers." My god, that was a good speech. And you'll rarely hear me type that.

Technically the speech did all the things it needed to do. Obama finally put an end to the myths and rumors (I think). The judgment to have a speech like this was, in the end, the right call. But what was so good, what was so refreshing to hear, came at the end: the issue of heath care is a moral issue. And the calculation for how to say this was dead-on: he moved from policy to eulogy.

This is a classic move: George W. Bush did it repeatedly after Nine-eleven, as did numerous politicians after Gerson led the way. Nine-eleven became a golden calf of mournful calls to action. The appeal to atrocity became abusive. And this is the context in which Obama decided to eulogize Ted Kennedy.

It could have gone horribly wrong. It could have been cheap. But it wasn’t. You could see it in Obama's face. You could hear it in the tone of his voice. When Obama started to talk about Kennedy's moral conviction driving his policy struggles, one could sense the room was tense. But then Kennedy the calculating, technical politician faded to Kennedy the good Christian. And then, the goodness of Christianity---that thing about Christianity that has been a force for good in this country: charity, compassion, brotherly and sisterly love---quickly eclipsed the instrumental. Obama moved from Kennedy's motive to national motive: health care reform is a moral duty. He even talked about character.

This is fair persuasion. It wasn't manipulative; the message seemed sincere and genuine. You can disagree with policy all you want, but I think the president did a good job of saying his---and our---heart is in the right place.

I will confess I still have a hard, cynical outer casing. That "personal responsibility" speech to school kids, while well intended, did nothing but reinforce that casing. Obama is neo-liberal, no question. But when even my cynical self gets a lump in its throat, something is connecting to my soft, admittedly idealist, core. My response to this speech, and the reason I think it was so well done, is emotional. Obama got righteous, but in the right way, in a way that wasn't cheap or cloying or . . . cynical. I could go on, but I think I'll have to mull on the right way to capture why this speech hit the sweet spot. It has something to do with not hitting the sweet spot at all, for cutting through the tactics to the feeling behind policy.

I'm sure in the morning I will have re-thunk and re-trenched into my critical self. After all, that's what I'm paid to do. But I will give it up when "it" is warranted. I think this speech made reform inevitable. It may not be the reform we want, but after that damn speech, something will happen. Good job, Mr. President. Good. Job.

(Oh, and the police helicopter has stopped. Someone was shooting a gun. Densely populated area. Fortunately, the area is across the creek from me.)

note from a nameless journal editor

Music: Marconi Union: Tokyo

Today I received a note from a journal editor regarding the most unbelievably bad publication proof I've ever received. I like how a delay in publication is dangled out there (is it a threat? surely not . . . ):

09-Sep-2009

JOURNAL-2008-047 - [Essay Title]

Dear Dr. Gunn:

We are in receipt of your multiple messages and attachments regarding the copy editing phase of your manuscript. As you know, my intervention was crucial in moving this essay into publication in this journal. Once articles are accepted, we work assiduously to ensure they come out in the cleanest way possible. The process involves triangulation: here at [midwestern university], at [professional organization], and at [publishing house]. Thus your essay is proofed by about 6 people by the time you get yours copy edits.

There appear to have been two versions of your essay circulating within the system. As the manuscript was originally submitted to another editorial team, we are unable to access the complete trail. However we did find that the uploaded and therefore copy edited version differed from one you submitted. This might explain some of the differences.

Some of the elements of your note can be explained by APA. Especially in regard to the use of numbers, we are following APA guidelines [as we do for all articles]. Some of APA might not be exactly a "humanities" approach [that's what MLA is for] but [journal title] abides by APA. As well, the length of abstract, according to APA, cannot exceed 120 words. [Scholar] at [professional organization] removed 13 words. You can revise your abstract but must stay within 120 words.

At this point we are going to have the the proofreader collate the changes from us, [Scholar at professional organization] and the authors. Should this require more negotiation, we will have to replace article for this issue and continue to take up editing matters for the next volume.

Sincerely,

[Journal Title . . . not a person!]

Wow. Just wow.

beautiful lawrence

Music: Marconi Union: A Lost Connection (2008)

I have returned from a lovely visit with the good peeps at the University of Kansas. I stepped off the plane to 65 degrees and blue skies with little fluffy clouds; Greta greeted me with her charming wit and beautiful smile, and we headed off to meet up with Jay and Suzy for dinner and bourbon at the Free State Brewery downtown. The fun never ended, really, and the conversations were always enlightening and engaging. Ok, so, maybe not so much when Jay and I watched Larry the Cable Guy get "roasted" last night on television, but in general, talk was good.

I was especially impressed with the feeling of the program, the smart kindness of the students, and the general sense of excitement that seemed to permeate the Department of Communication Studies (their debate team, doncha know, won the NDT this past year). Truth be told, I had always wanted to visit Kansas because I had heard so much about it from Karlyn Campbell, who taught there for twelve years and spoke fondly of the place and program. I was saddened to learn Wil Linkugel is ill, as I've heard the most charming stories about him and hoped to meet him.

To my delight, however, I did get to meet Donn Parson, whose famous recipe I have eaten many times at my advisor's home. I've heard lots of good stories about Donn, whom R.L. Scott is quite fond of. In fact, I learned just before I arrived at Kansas that Donn was Scott's first advisee. I am Scott's 61st. So, the first and last met. I thought for sure R.L. would feel his entire being shaken to the core and call from the psychic jolt. Alas, he's not even responded to my email detailing such a fated encounter. Anyhoo, I had the most delightful lunch with the Golden Goofers at Kansas---Donn and Kris Bruss---and the meeting felt a little like a homecoming reunion. In fact, there were so many folks in their program from Minnesota I daresay Kansas' and Minnesota's programs are connected by an invisible power or something. I met not one but three grads from Minnesota as well. Huh.

I got to spend the most time with Jay Childers, my host and buddy for many years now, and Dave Tell, whom I met for the first time at the public address conference and who I am quite fond of these days. We had a delightful parting dinner at Dave and Hannah's home, where I was introduced to their beautiful, precocious and chatty children whom I quite enjoyed (kids love me, what can I say?).

When I started down the academic path, I envisioned a leisurely life of contemplation, of pontificating and inspiring young people to change the world for the better. Of course, there is latter is possible in small dribs and drabs, but the life of leisure is a complete sham. In this gig we work almost constantly. What I didn't know, however, was the perk of meeting new people and making new friends and deep relationships over ideas. Jay, Dave and I talked a lot about all sorts of intellectual things, what it is to be a scholar, the pursuit of happiness in the life of the mind, and all sorts of relevant stuffs that was both rewarding and intimate. I simply had a marvelous time, enjoyed the exchanges (and the bourbon). I was thrilled to meet my blog-buddy Greta, as well her equally brilliant colleagues. Now, some of them had never heard the Cure, which was quite a shock, but in general those Jayhawk commies rocked.

Well, as I was saying: I didn't think about the traveling part of the academic gig. It's really rewarding. I only wish I had a professorship or something to bring in the people who brought me in---to give them back, UT-style, what they've given me. Gimme some time, Jay and Dave: I'll figure out how to get you here eventually! A grant? David Beard: you have any tips here?

A gallery of my visiting to Jayhawkland is here. I hope to get back again, sooner rather than later. I had no idea Lawrence was so beautiful and hilly!