Saturday, October 3, 2009

Latter-Day Platonism

What intrigued me the most about Barry’s reading on Post-Modernism was Bauldrillard’s theory of “hyper-reality” and its parallels to Plato’s Cave. This illusion and misrepresentation of ‘objective reality’ was articulated as a response to electronic media in the 1980s and its nature to blur the lines between reality and illusion. These gilded representations create a fabricated mood, tone, attitude and abstraction for an individual who becomes bombarded with fragmented experiences and interpretations. The production speed of these images creates a distanced reality composed of images and experiences devoid of depth and truth of basic reality. This idea of Bauldrillard’s simulacrum creates emptiness because the surface value of images collapses reality and makes it hard to distinguish it from simulation. This concept reminds me of today’s youth and their reliance on electronic media.

In such a technologically advanced society, the younger generation is born into a wealth of simulated reality. With the popularity of role-playing games, interactive media, social internet sites, reality television and the jaw-dropping speed of innovative technology, it is almost impossible for individuals to distinguish between basic and simulated reality. This distancing also creates a malsocialized generation terrified of human interaction (which, as a teacher, is a frightening peek of humanity in the not-so-distant future.

What social, political and historical ramifications may result as this generation takes the helm?

Friday, September 25, 2009

I Like Me Some Barthes

In the past few discussions we have had in class, the main focus on theory seems to have revolved around the text and the author: specifically their socio-political, literary-historical, and autobiographical context. The argument of “the critic” also arose concerning their authority and overall place in theory and criticism. I have been wondering why the reader was never a point of focus during this discussing. (Yeah diagrams!) Although I posed the question, it was never really discussed; however, now that we have moved onto post-structuralism, I feel that it is appropriate to discuss in light of the introduction of Roland Barthes in this week’s reading.

When Barthes published his essay, “The Death of an Author” in 1968, he helped create a significant shift in the way theorist perceived the idea of authority. In previous theory, text value was often associated with the author, context, and intention of the piece when the dreaded critic assessed the piece’s worth and integrity. On the other hand, Barthes view in early post-structuralism in regards to his essay, he “makes a declaration of radical textual independence: the work is not determined by intention, or context. Rather, the text is free by its very nature of all such restraints” (Barry 63-64). This figurative death of the author shifted theorists their view from the author's intention to the reader: it is the reader that produces the text instead of the author creating it. This reader-centered approach by Barthes in the early phases of post-structuralism captures an authentic purpose of literterture and the experience that it creates for individual readers.

Now, just like we discussed concerning Quintilian, several new theories and pedagogical “innovations” existed long before their termed publications; it is simply re-packaged for modern times. Although Reader Response Theory was practiced since 1937 by Louise Rosenblatt in the pedagogical realm, it did not gain its popularity in literature or pedagogy until the 70s. In her 1938 publication, Literature as Exploration, she remarks on literature as an “event” rather than a static text:

The special meaning, and more particularly, the submerged associations that these words and images have for the individual reader will largely determine what the work communicates to him. The reader brings to the work personality traits, memories of past events, present needs and preoccupations, a particular mood of the moment, and a particular physical condition. These and many other elements in a never-to-be-duplicated combination determine his response to the peculiar contribution of the text. (pp. 30-31)

In short, reader response theory reject the New Criticism which assume that the texts themselves were central, and that instructors were to teach the skills of close-reading while suppressing—the expression of and attention to—differences in students' own individual responses. Then in the late 60s and early 70's there occurred a paradigm shift in the teaching of literature away from viewing the text as authority, to a view that focuses on the reader's relationship and experience with text.

So I ask, what is the point of literature? Why do we write it? To get judged, critiqued, labeled? Or is it a form of expression or entertainment? If we cannot agree on the function of literature, then how can we assess it?

Thursday, September 17, 2009

Sometimes I Like My Eggs, Sometimes I Want the Chicken

After reading Barry’s sections for this week’s reading, I am now evaluating how I interpret a text: do I lean towards liberal humanism or towards Structuralism? In the metacognitive stint, I realized that I am a little bit of both depending on the piece of literature, specifically the genre. I like my eggs when it comes to poetry because I feel, personally, that the genre is more of a therapeutic device in the aspect of composition and interpretation (reader-centered). If I read the author’s background, researched the events that helped create the work, or read other poems created by an author as a collective work, then my interpretation may be more scripted and artificial because the context will influence my reading. The “organic” and untainted freedoms are gone because ‘close-reading’ is not implemented. So the idea that “[t]he literary text contain its own meaning within itself” in the genre of poetry sits nicely with me (Barry 17). I feel that the broad genre of poetry relates more to human nature (in its essence form) due to the ‘soul’ of the concept, as opposed, perhaps , to non-fiction. Pouring over too much of the external context can pave a path that you necessarily don’t want to follow.

On the other hand, when it comes to such literary genres as science fiction, I lean towards Structuralism when considering the interpretation of the piece. Science fiction can be read both in isolation (which brings more of an entertainment element to the piece) and in context; but it is the contextual interpretation and understanding of a text can be deepened by the socio-political context in which it was written. One of the main characteristics of science fiction is based around social criticism (this can be seen in such Bradbury pieces) and if a reader desires to deepen their understanding beyond the “surface-text”, they need to be knowledgeable about a number of external contextual elements. For example, they should be familiar with the characteristics of the genre (the voyage, sciences, technology, etc.) so they can evaluate the author’s decisions and motivations. They should also be familiar with the historical aspects (the socio-political) of McCarthyism to better comprehend the themes presented in the work. Autobiographical information may also help shape interpretation if they become familiar with the author’s life and his/her involvement in politics, literature, or other institutions that may give him aretē. I guess, in this respect of the science fiction genre, structuralism may be more beneficial for the reader in their understanding of the “larger picture”, instead of the liberal humanism isolation approach. I agree with Lévi-Srauss , in regards to certain literary genres, that some pieces should be approached by understanding that the “individual” piece of literature “from a cycle of” texts composed by an author may not “have a separate and inherent meaning but could only be understood by considering its position in the whole cycle” (Barry 45). So, depending on the genre, I may like my eggs or I may prefer the chicken.

Saturday, September 12, 2009

All the world's a stage . . .

Finally, we find someone who writes against the idea Vir Bonus that we have been discussing in class for the past two weeks. Trebizond, in his Rhetoricorum libre quinque, goes against Quintilian’s belief and declares that: “devoid of the requirement that the orator be a good man, in the moral sense. Rhetoric was, rather, a pragmatic political art indifferent to morality” (Conley 115). After reading the rest of Conley’s section devoted to Trebizond, I was not surprised that this man made such a statement, considering his was not a moral man himself (seeing that he did not credit Hermogenes, Cicero or Quintilan for several structural and cornerstone points of rhetoric) Ah, but ambition can corrupt a man, and the truth surfaced after his death as these ancient texts became more available to Greek Rhetorics due to Manuizo printing spree.

What struck me most about the Conley excerpt above was the word “art”. Not once in the past three weeks have I equated rhetoric to art—perhaps I formulated this idea due to the prescriptive nature of rhetoricians in our previous readings. Now, after mulling over this disequilibrium, I do agree with this concept that rhetoric can be considered an artistic endeavor. What is art? Is it a material medium? Do we classify art as “things” we can hang in a gallery or display on our wall? Is it scrap-metal contorted into a twisted image? A splattering of paint and sweat? A performance that we witness in the seats of a theatre? Pieces that can only be seen in antiseptic museums? The Oxford dictionary (yes, I am giving you the cliché definition plug) defines art as, “the quality, production, expression, or realm, according to aesthetic principles, of what is beautiful, appealing, or of more than ordinary significance.” Isn’t the art of rhetoric just that? the aesthetic expression of making a position appealing? Even beautiful to the ears, like Dionysius believed. Philodemus raised this question in his peri rhetirikēs and questions, “[C]an [rhetoric] legitimately be called and art; and on this subject Philodemus take the position that on kind of rhetoric, ‘sophist’ may qualify, but not others, such as courtroom or political rhetoric” (Conley 44). I believe that even the courtroom and political rhetoric can be considered artistic in the realm of delivery: with its orator gestures, facial expressions, body language and vocal tone performances that are taught to persuade the auditor. Augustine, in his De Doctrina Christiana, stresses in Book 4, that “the preacher should adapt his style to both his aim and his audience” and through his style “we wish not only to make ourselves understood, but even enjoyed” (Matsen 360 & 375). This “enjoyment” that the rhetorician wished to bestow upon his audience strike closely to the chords of entertainment—isn’t that what art does? entertain? Mesmerize? Captivate? Inspire?

. . .And all the men and women merely players:
They have their exits and their entrances;
And one man in his time plays many parts,”
As You Like It (II, vii, 139–143)

As we stray from the courtroom and political forum, and begin to cross the threshold of religious rhetoric, I begin to see how rhetoric can be considered art, and even theatrical (Gorgias). Trebizond believed that being a good orator (not a good man) could not be simply taught, but innate talent and intellect help create the ideal orator. Every successful artists must be talented to some degree; if not, then they are probably not very successful in their practiced field. The manipulation of an audience takes a great deal of talent and the success of an orator is based on his “performance”. I believe you have to have to be an intelligent, well practiced, well educated, quick, have the ability to improvise and charm the audience, and be a bit of an actor in order to be a successful orator. Rhetoric can be seen as an “art” with these considerations.

As an unperfect actor on the stage
Who with his fear is put besides his part,
Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage,
Whose strength's abundance weakens his own heart.
So I, for fear of trust, forget to say
The perfect ceremony of love's rite,
And in mine own love's strength seem to decay,
O'ercharged with burden of mine own love's might.
O, let my books be then the eloquence
And dumb presagers of my speaking breast,
Who plead for love and look for recompense
More than that tongue that more hath more express'd.
O, learn to read what silent love hath writ:
To hear with eyes belongs to love's fine wit.
-Shakespeare, Sonnet 23

(This is for Tony and Scott =)

Saturday, September 5, 2009

The Barbaroi in Best Practice

As a high school teacher, it was interesting to read in last week’s assignment the education views that Isocrates held and how he used them to structure his own school of rhetoric. It was equally as interesting to read about the origin of curriculum in the field of education in the Hellenistic period of rhetoric. (Something I was unfamiliar with concerning that time period) The “enkyklios paideia” implemented to standardize education throughout the Greek world was birthed from the political powers and desire for influence over occupied territories. This “barbaroi” actually strengthened the educational and political powers as great minds from occupied territories joined forces to innovate current practices. A particularly interesting innovation in curriculum concept was the implementation of “progymnasmata”: a surprisingly advanced approach in instruction that has recently been practiced in current educational theory. This building-block approach to instruction is utilized by many new-aged teachers as they adopt a “Best Practice” approach to their instruction (as opposed to the more Traditional forms of instruction) but is termed as the method of “scaffolding”. Scaffolding concepts and ideas have proven to increase student achievement and proficiency in higher level skills. It was surprising to read that such contemporary traces of pedagogy came to light in the Hellenistic period.

In addition, the concept of ethics and morality in rhetoric (specifically those concerning law) did not seem to die out with the death of Isocrates. “The good man skilled in speaking” concept can also be seen in Cicero’s “Vir bonus” –“good man” in relation to virtue and ethics in oration as well as in Quintilian. Also, some of Aristotle’s views are whispered in Carneades ideals concerning an orator’s knowledge of an array of topics, but he also believe that effective orators need to be eloquent and be able “to argue “ in utramque partem”, or in the absence of certain knowledge, but can still be able to argue both sides of the conflict. It just goes to show that the art of eloquence and the skills of an orator simply adapt to the government and allowed practices of the times. It does not “die”, like Tacitus’ characters argue over in Dialogue, rather, it simply adjusts its approach to the forum it is given.

Monday, August 31, 2009

Why Can't We All Get Along?

The Conley Readings helped me immensely in concern to the early Greeks and their respective approached to Rhetoric. (Socrates, Plato, Aristotle & Isocrates) This cogent overview prepped me for the detailed excerpts that followed in the joining reading assignment for Matsen. I was surprised to view the Gorgianic approach to rhetoric, as its characteristics are is found in Julius Ceasar during the funeral speeches delivered by Marc Antony and Brutus. Gorgianic view, is “rhetoric is a unilateral transaction between an active speaker and a passive audience” (6) When I teach persuasion in my class, we go over rational and emotional appeals as well as rhetorical devices to deconstruct these speeches. This form of “flattery” that is often associated with the Gorgianic approach is prevalent in Marc Antony’s speech when he appeals to the audiences emotions and weaknesses, rather than facts and logic. (which Brutus utilize in his funeral speech) He uses theatrics, abrupt transitions and loaded language to sway the fickle audience to his side—a strategy that Plato did not agree upon due to its manipulative nature. On the other hand, Brutus uses an angle of Gorgian approach concerning his speech structure (introduction, narration, proof & conclusion) and utilizes the logical approach presenting facts and reasons to the mob. If this forum was meant to be more political, Brutus might have prevailed; however, due to the topic, Marc Antony chooses the more effective approach of the two.

Regardless of the type of rhetoric that these characters in this drama decided to use, they each utilize specific rhetorical devices to accomplish their goal: repetition (“Believe me for mine honor, and have respect to mine honor, that you may believe “ this is also an aretē introduction) Parallelism (As Cesar loved me, I weep for him; as he was fortunate, I rejoice at it; as he was valiant, I honor him, but—as he was ambitious, I slew him”) and Rhetorical Questions (Had you rather Caesar were living, and die all slaves, than that Caesar were dead, to live all freeman?)

A skilled orator should be proficient at all modes of persuasion and rhetoric. Choosing the right approach is a form of differentiation for the audience: what type would work best under a particular set of circumstances is what should be evaluated. A speaker should be able to improvise, a characteristic of speech that Alcidamas stresses: “improvised speech is effective because it speaks to the opportunity or the right moment in time (kairos)” (Matsen 31). This allows flexibility to the content as well as the audience. A speaker should also be linear in a degree, like Aristotle “two parts are necessary; an introductory statement and the argument proper” (Conley 16). This allows a logical structure for the audience to follow. Finally, a speaker should be able to present facts in a credible way, but shouldn’t risk morality as a result—Isocrates idea that orators should be “good men skilled in speaking” and not simply gild a case by “making the worse case appear the better” (Conley 18)