Rhetoric: A Technological Entry Point?

Miller argues that the humanities must reform, or risk becoming irrelevant. He cites varied catastrophic events, in both image and text, in a sort of apocalyptic vision of the larger world, and then he moves in to the university level. Providing graphs and verbal commentary, he decries a loss in enrollment in humanities, and more particularly, English, coursework at the BA level, and a loss in the number of majors.

In his book, Miller suggests we ought to reconsider how higher education reshapes daily life experiences; and he argues for humanities education as a humanizing force in troubled times. He states, “I believe the function of a secular public education should be: to provide training in the arts of solving the problems of this world, training that recognizes that people, who never leave behind their embodied histories and their cherished beliefs, can’t be revised the way papers can” (p. 197). He argues for humanities as communication—making connections.

In his argument for communication, following from a Perelminian understanding, I see a direct call for rhetoric. Perelman and Olbrechts-Tyteca suggest rhetoric assumes an intellectual contact; and further, that rhetoric is about “gaining adherence of the minds.” If Miller is right in that we need to make these connections with the ‘real’ non-ivory tower world, then we must employ rhetoric in its greatest powers to demonstrate our willingness to work with(in) the real world.

This segues into the next set of materials (Yancey, Selfe, I-text). Across these materials, I see a continuing call for recognizing and examining the value of digital scholarship and pedagogy. The I-text article contains a digital research agenda. This article also delineates the necessity of incorporating a rhetorical perspective into digital research (p. 272) (along with discussing the influence of I-texts across a variety of research areas).

Digital scholarship seems to be one way of answering Miller’s concerns about the humanities needing to communicate with the world outside itself. If digital composition does provide a way of expanding the audience for the humanities, it might be conceived as an audience appeal. We need to use the means and the methods that others are using. If no one’s reading parchment anymore, then you don’t write on parchment. If people are reading in the age of the screen, then you need to write accordingly. It might also be seen as an act of metis.

I’m thinking back to a fairly recent CCC article about metis. The teacher described in the article argued for using metis when talking to her students about controversial issues, because without the bit of cunning the teacher enacted, the students would be unwilling or possibly even unable to open their ears to new voices.

I suggest, based on this week’s reading materials, that those seeking to advance digital writing studies might also need to evince a sort of cunning, at least in their pedagogy. A metis-based technology approach does not necessarily make technology the centerpiece of a course’s design, but instead integrates technology seamlessly throughout the coursework. Although Yancey’s approach seems to argue for a potentially more overt approach, her suggestions also may be used to more subtly integrate technology across the curriculum as well. Selfe states,

we have not felt a responsibility to involve ourselves directly in some of the more public discussions about technology and educational policy because many of us unconsciously subscribe to a belief-both culturally and historically determined-that technology is a productive outgrowth of Science and Innovation (cf. Winner; Virilio; Feenberg; Johnson-Eilola). As a result, we take comfort when the linkage between literacy and computer technology is portrayed as a socially progressive movement, one that will benefit American citizens generally and without regard for their circumstances or backgrounds. Such a belief releases us from the responsibility to pay attention. (p. 416)

For Selfe, this lack of involvement is problematic because it means we let other people decide how the technology is used and implemented, which leads to continued (and sometimes increased) social inequities, especially within the realm of literacy. I suggest that in addition to this problem, we are missing an opportunity. Selfe uses Harraway’s idea of “coyote knowing” (p. 429), but I think the concept of metis would work just as well and perhaps better.

If we enter into these discussions of technology at varied levels—as researchers, teachers, and potentially as activists, we can also do more to answer Richard Miller’s call to reinforce the significance of our work as both teachers and researchers.