Graves
I
was not aware that the accountability of rhetoric as an epistemic tool was ever
up for debate since B.C., which made me want to read quickly to get to the
“against” arguments. Before I got that
far, I double checked that I still agreed with the “for” side, and Michael C.
Leff summed up my feelings exactly, “rhetoric is epistemic since knowledge
itself is a rhetorical construct.” (108) That checks out with me, despite the
chicken or the egg dilemma it presents.
Or at least it did check out with me, until Cherwitz reminded me “there
is a reality independent of us, a reality that cannot be willed into existence
nor wished away.” (108) Unfortunately, I believe this as well, but fortunately
I cannot think myself out of existence, but unfortunately if I could my
existence would continue to exist whether I tried to think about existing or
not. Through all that fog, it is clear
that Graves is about to undertake a seemingly immeasurable concept. This is fascinating as a reader, and I’m
excited to watch Graves basically try and unravel infinity.
If
rhetoric actually is what it is, then
my opinion holds that it is always epistemic.
However, the fact that we are human muddles this opinion. I suspect that this will be a recurring issue
in science, the fact that just because we delineate a sensation with a term,
does not mean that there is any validity to it.
If a reality exists whether we do or not, then it really doesn’t matter
whether we use rhetoric because it’s all made up and the universe carries on
either way. Be that as it may, the term
rhetoric serves its purpose here and now as a foundation for spreading
understanding about what we can perceive as humans, even if it doesn’t
necessarily create reality.
Fisher
The
preface to this article, written by Fisher, sets the reader up nicely to leave
a fair amount of baggage at the door before diving into some pretty dense
concepts. Fisher sets his rhetorical
situation up nicely, explaining that each subsequent work of his refines the
last. This instills a bit of trust in me
as a reader, knowing that this is not merely another article; this is Fisher’s
life work. Furthermore, the admittance
that this essay is merely framework and thus not as “compelling” (378) as it
has potential to be in the future lends additional credibility to Fisher. This is a useful way to set tyrannical readers
like myself up for consensual acquisition of wisdom, instead of skepticism met
with some other fellow’s definition of “truth.”
One
of the elements that make this article a little challenging to comprehend is
the specificity of its nature. Before
the main issue can be presented, several key points must be defined in order to
understand the content. Even with terms
defined, the concepts are not easily digestible for the layman. That makes this article intended for a very
specific audience, which puts its entertainment factor into context. As for
the content of this article, Fisher is thorough in both of his in depth
explorations of the narrative and rational paradigms. He gives suggestions of how we can lay the
framework for reconsidering what is reasonable and rational, while reminding us
that this is merely a concept that needs far more attention if it’s to mature
into being.
Thomas
What
better way to captivate an audience than to make your article revolve around
wonder? Thomas’ tone invites the reader
to sit down with a drink and daydream about truly awe-inspiring things in the
universe, and it’s pretty easy bait to take.
It’s mostly a given that writers love to think and let their thoughts
take them away, as it is for readers, so this article serves as a rare example
of writing that should not be met with much criticism. I comment often on what does (or doesn’t)
lend an author credibility, but in an easygoing article like this where the
premise is clearly an opinion, I’m happy to be along for the ride.
Thomas
immediately establishes a grandiose objective by referring to the original
Seven Wonders of the world as, “old, out of date” (220) wonders. This effectively sets the parameters for
Thomas’ forthcoming list as massive—massive enough to dwarf the pyramids and
the whole lot. As if this wasn’t enough
anticipation, the reader is told that the largest wonder will be mentioned very
last. Hook/Line/Sinker.
This
article has a brisk sense of energy and excitement that pulls the reader along
all the way to the promised climax without losing momentum, and as the final
wonder is revealed, there is a compulsory need for pause and reflection. When at all possible within science writing,
I would like to emulate that sense of lingering wonder in my readers.
You introduced a fascinating topic with your mention of Fisher’s preface: the balancing act of ethos. We typically think of the ethos appeal as an attempt to establish credibility based on authority. However, ethos goes beyond our mere perception of a rhetor’s expertise; “it is a means of convincing others of the character or credibility of the persuader. It is natural for us to accept the credibility of people whom we hold in reverence” (http://literarydevices.net/ethos/). Ethos may not be as “logical” as we think; perhaps ethos and pathos are closer relatives.
ReplyDeleteFor example, consider what underlies pathos, the emotional appeal. If someone gives you a presentation about kids dying of starvation in some third-world country, you may feel pity, anger, and compassion. Why? Emotions are a reflection of our values. If you value human life, then hearing about the loss of human life will trigger emotions in you that somehow express that value. So when we naturally “accept the credibility of people whom we hold in reverence,” that basically means we determine credibility on a system of values. Polanyi mentioned how different “frameworks” cause controversy and miscommunication in scientific discourse. Aren’t values a sort of “framework” or “language” we live by? If a person holds different values than you, then that person’s language is incompatible with yours; you are less likely to understand and agree with him. We not only test what that person says but who they are against our values. Remember the “hate session” on Heidegger during class on Tuesday? That is a prime example: we discounted what he said mostly because of who he is.
You wrote: “Fisher…explain[s] that each subsequent work of his refines the last. This instills a bit of trust in me as a reader, knowing that this is not merely another article; this is Fisher’s life work. Furthermore, the admittance that this essay is merely framework and thus not as “compelling” (378) as it has potential to be in the future lends additional credibility to Fisher.” I wonder if these statements also reveal some of your values (and I agree with you here, so the following suppositions reflect what might underlie my values as well). Perhaps you value determination, intention, and lasting pursuit of knowledge, and so you are turned off by writers who compose “merely another article” just to get the job done. Perhaps you value humility and honesty and disvalue arrogance, which is why you admired Fisher’s “compelling” statement on page 378. Haha, sorry, I don’t mean to put words in your mouth. What do you think?
Adam~
ReplyDeleteWell done. I appreciated your discussion of all three authours, and the ways in which you weighed their claims before agreeing, instead of blindly assuming their authority.
Particularly, I liked your paragraph on Fisher. Rather than ranting and raving on how dense or thick his piece was, you chose a critical stance to understand why you found it challenging to read. This gathered good observations, from noting its specificity to its contextual nature—observations that can be recycled and put to use in our own work (avoid intense specifics, give the reader adequate context, etc.).
I’m suspicious that Doug has multiple purposes for all the pieces we read. He wants us to learn dually from the content and the style. Fisher presents some fascinating topics, but his style may scare the “layman” reader away. As good readers in this class, I feel it is our obligation to either enjoy the readings, and note, “Wow, I want to write like that!” Or not enjoy them, and ask ourselves, “Why is this challenging?” It seems you’ve done a nice job of both.
Until next time,
Anjeli