Nineteenth-century women speaking to promiscuous audiences about the taboo topics of sex and sexuality found evolutionary science an ally, rather than an enemy, to their aims. Feminists arguing for free love promoted their arguments with the popular evolutionary discourse. This essay identifies three warrants in their arguments with a basis in Darwin's theories of evolution and sexual selection.

In this essay I discuss and exemplify a wide range of nontraditional concepts and texts as they relate to the rhetoric of intertextuality. As a result of this inquiry, I hope to give teachers of writing and their students new strategies for understanding and producing discourse. More specifically, I hope to give readers new ways of thinking about the rhetorical situation, invention, genre, arrangement, and audience.

The attentions given to textual production in composition scholarship have led to a neglect of the dynamics of textual reception. Renewed acquaintance with the discipline of hermeneutics will provide scholars and instructors with a more comprehensive understanding of the relationship between interpretive processes and rhetorical strategies. Building on the work of Phelps, Mailloux, and Crusius, this article revisits Gadamer and Ricoeur, two of the more prominent scholars of modern hermeneutics, for the purpose of applying their principles to learning objectives and class assignments in college-level writing courses.

Historians give John Pym due credit as a successful Parliamentarian; rhetorical critics examine Pym's prowess as an orator. Both perspectives focus on Pym's management of issues of the day and do not account for his masterful appropriation of political language. We conduct an ideographic analysis of twelve of his addresses to Parliament between 1640 and 1643. His discourse reveals a crucial reformulation of <law> in relation to subsidiary ideographs, including <religion>, <justice>, and <Parliamentary privilege>. These ideological innovations were instrumental in building Parliamentary opposition to Charles I and allowed for advances in democratic ideas made manifest in Anglo-American liberalism.

Abstract An allegoresis of Shakespeare's Troilus and Cressida illuminates this drama as the playwright's act of mythopoesis that characterizes and interprets the second half of Elizabeth I's reign as an historical and political journey through adversities, crises, and conflict to a moment of unified redemption. Action and dialogue allegorically represent the diverse and disparate civic voices of this journey. The drama is Shakespeare's own civic voice morally and ethically arguing and assessing the period as an arrival to national unification, self-identity, and well-being. Notes 1I offer my gratitude to RR reviewers Mark Gellis and Andrew King for their insightful recommendations, and to Theresa Jarnagin Enos and Rhetoric Review for their patience. 2Allegory of typology as relying on well-established pre-texts—in this instance, Chaucer's Troilus and Criseyde and Homer's Iliad; allegory of reification as relying on allusive tropes such as irony, metaphor, simile, pun, image, and personification that are culturally understood by the audience. See Quilligan (ad passim) and Barney (30–38). The two classes of allegory need not be mutually exclusive; they can be simultaneously incorporated into one allegorical work and can support each other to convey the author's perceptions. 3All quotations from Shakespeare's Troilus and Cressida are taken from The Riverside Shakespeare, New York: Houghton Mifflin, 1997. 4For a concise and comprehensive history of Commons' escalating voice and its rise to power, see J. E. Neale's introduction (15–29) and his conclusion (417–24) in Elizabeth I and Her Parliaments 1559–1581; and the conclusion (434–39) of Neale's Elizabeth I and Her Parliaments 1584–1601. Neale identifies the birth of Commons' evolving empowerment with Sir Thomas More's plea for parliamentary freedom of speech as early as 1523 during the reign of Henry VIII. 5Although probable sources, none of these names appear in Chaucer's Troilus and Criseyde or in George Chapman's Iliad. Only one reference to the Dardan gate appears in Lydgate's Troy Book, in which it is synonymous with the famous Scaean Gate of Iliad fame. It was referred to as the Dardan gate because it faced northwest toward the Dardanelles. Only until the twentieth century did archaeological evidence at the Troy site in Hycarlic suggest other gateway entrances in Troy's walls. 6Ordish identifies seven gates in Elizabethan London: Aldgate, Bishopgate, Moorgate, Cripplegate, Aldersgarte, Newgate, and Ludgate (5). However, Moorgate was considered a minor gate and originally a postern that would leave a total of six main gates for Elizabethan Londoners. The other six gates mentioned were the original six that descended from the Medieval Period. Another gate, adjacent to the Tower of London, had been demolished to construct the Tower, and only a pedestrian passageway remained. 7Graves uses an interesting turn of phrase for patronage recipients' commitment: "They also reinforced loyalty by pandering to self-interest" (114). 8The "pearl" metaphor as Elizabeth in this context in all probability held three significances for the Elizabethan audience: (1) At least from the time of the poetic works of the anonymous "Pearl Poet," the pearl signifies purity thereby affirming Elizabeth as the "Virgin Queen"; (2) Elizabeth's purity in relation to God and her Realm are divinely ordained; and (3) in like to "divine," she is ubiquitously felt yet distant and tenuous, one whose relation is not easily attained. Elizabeth's symbolic association with pearls is clearly depicted in her Pelican Portrait, c. 1575, and the Armada Portrait of 1588; her gowns and her hair are encrusted with pearls, and she is portrayed in both portraits with elaborate displays of pearl necklacing. From another perspective: In the Parliamentary session of 1597–98 when monopolies, granted under the authority of her Royal Prerogative, were being challenged by the House of Commons as lending to abuses affecting the welfare of the poor, the Lord Keeper, Sir Thomas Egerton, quoted her response in stating: "Her Majesty … hoped that her dutiful and loving subjects would not take away her Prerogative—which is the chiefest flower in her garland and the principal and head pearl in her crown and diadem" (Neale, 1584–1601 355). 9Further exploration in identifying allegory as another separate and distinct mode of drama within the corpus of Shakespeare's plays appears viable. Preliminary examination of The Tempest has already indicated to me strong allegorical elements at work and consistent in execution with Troilus and Cressida. They lead me to consider the plays two pieces of a set as "allegory/drama"—a protracted legend of the Tudor Dynasty and its relinquishing evolution to the Stuarts. This preliminary thesis would also include Henry VIII as a necessary stage for Troilus and Tempest to complete the set as a dynastic work. 10… and possibly propaganda for Elizabeth's recent favor toward the House of Commons, also a positive assessment of her reign for the chronicles of history. 11See Dennis Slattery's discussion of mythopoesis as "the ground of narrative knowing" in Sophocles' Theban Plays and the journey from the profane to the sacred in his essay, "Oedipus at Colonus: Pilgrimage from Blight to Blessedness" (ad passim).

Abstract During WWII psychologist Carl Rogers introduced a verbal counseling technique that could be utilized by clergy, teachers, and USO workers to help veterans overcome problems of readjustment. Rogers's arhetorical principles were adapted for the writing classroom by Young, Becker, and Pike—an adaptation that later led composition historian James Berlin to misinterpret the implementation of Rogers's principles in his study of a WWII communication program. These misinterpretations of Rogers's original intent have resulted in debate over the rhetorical or arhetorical nature of Rogerian rhetoric and have led to an inaccurate association between Rogerian rhetoric and expressivist and therapeutic writing. Notes 1My thanks to RR reviewers Paul Bator and Janice Lauer for their detailed and helpful revision recommendations, and to my colleagues Robin Veder and Mary Richards for their generous advice on early drafts. 2 Rhetoric and Reality is required reading for many PhD programs in rhetoric and composition and as such has informed, and continues to inform, a majority of scholars in the field. Sharon Crowley cites Rhetoric and Reality as the source for her statement that "[o]ne truly radical communication skills program … was implemented at the University of Denver" (Composition 172). And David Russell refers to Rhetoric and Reality several times in support of his treatment of communications courses and expressivist writing instruction. 3Although Young, Becker, and Pike defer to Anatol Rapoport's Fights, Games and Debates as a foundation for their theory, Rapoport is rarely mentioned as the initiator of either the strategies for or the terms Rogerian argument or Rogerian rhetoric. 4See Halasek; Bator; Hairston; and Ede. 5It is now (many years following the publication of the Rogers and Young et al.'s discussion) possible for Rogers's strategy of "listening" to a reader's point of view to succeed in a synchronous online chat environment, where a writer has a present/absent audience, and the reader is capable of presenting immediate feedback to the writer. 6Young, Becker, and Pike insist that the other two prongs of their Rogerian argument strategy for writers are an alternative to conventional argument, but their proposal of delineating "the area within which he believes the reader's position to be valid" and convincing the reader that he and the writer have "moral qualities (honesty, integrity, and good will)" in common seem little more than a watered-down version of Aristotle's very conventional appeal to ethos (275). 7Rogers did later validate his person-centered approach through the formation of the Carl Rogers Institute for Peace, an organization that helped ease social tensions in such troubled areas as Northern Ireland, South Africa, and Central America. Perhaps it was this successful approach to social and political conflict resolution that initially attracted Young et al. to Rogers's principles and convinced them to attempt an adaptation of those same principles as an alternative to the agonistic type of argument taught in the writing classroom. 8The conventions of the Institute of General Semantics state that the term general semantics is not capitalized. 9In his introductory chapter to Rhetoric and Reality, Berlin does identify the use of general semantics as "a device for propaganda analysis" (10) and does give Denver credit for promoting "cooperative rather then competitive thinking" (101). 10Brigadier General Elliot D. Cooke conducted a study for the War Department in the spring of 1943 and concluded that "nearly as many men were being discharged from the Army as were entering through induction stations" due to "a thing called psychoneurosis" (11). By 1946 at least 40 percent of men receiving pensions for a physical disability were labeled as psychoneurotics, but only 10 percent of that 40 percent had seen combat. 11Archival evidence from the University of Denver reveals that enrollment rose "by 57 percent compared to the pre-war enrollments of 1939" and "the percent of Veterans on campus rose to 60 percent" (Zazzarino). 12Elbow sees the terms expressivist or expressionist as problematic and credits them both as terms of "disapproval" coined by Berlin. In defining the terms as "writing that expresses what I feel, see, think," Elbow concludes that they are "indistinguishable from any other kind of writing" ("Binary Thinking" 20). 13See also Halasek for an insightful analysis of ways in which Elbow's "Believing Game" can be applied to Rogerian principles.

Abstract The author argues that we have chosen a rhetorical history that normalizes and silences rhetorical bodies. In response, the author exhumes an embodied history of rhetoric, reexamining the myths of the Greek goddess Metis as a means of enlivening rhetorical theory and history. The author then connects these myths to other rhetorical traditions invoked by Hélène Cixous and Gloria Anzaldúa, connecting Metis to Medusa and to mestiza consciousness. The author affirms the rhetorical power of the body, specifically of those bodies that challenge rhetorical norms. Notes 1I thank generous RR reviewers Richard Enos and Michelle Ballif for their advice and assistance with this essay. 2In Grosz's words, "[T]he body has remained a conceptual blind spot in both mainstream Western philosophical thought and contemporary feminist theory" (Volatile 3). The body then becomes "what is not mind … implicitly defined as unruly, disruptive, in need of direction or judgment, merely incidental … a brute givenness which requires overcoming" (Volatile 3–4). 3Thanks to Richard Enos for his thoughtful comments in reviewing an earlier draft of this manuscript. 4Disability studies scholars use the term normate to designate the unexamined and privileged subject position of the supposedly (or temporarily) able-bodied individual. The word normative also converts the idea of normalcy into an active process—norms "are" but they also "act"—we live in a culture in which norms are enforced, a normative society. It can—and has—been argued that in antiquity there was not a concept of normalcy per se. But as Lennard Davis writes, although the word normal appeared in English only in the mid-nineteenth century, "before the rise of the concept of normalcy … there appears not to have been a concept of the normal, but instead the regnant paradigm was one revolving around the word ideal. … [I]n the culture of the ideal, physical imperfections are not seen as absolute but as part of a descending continuum from top to bottom. No one, for example, can have an ideal body, and therefore no one has to have an ideal body" (Enforcing 105). Yet Aristotle had more than one concept of ideality—he expounded on the idea of the mean, for instance. He outlined the idea of both an absolute mean, a method for measuring humans against one another, and a relative mean, a system for disciplining oneself (Nicomachean Ethics II 6–7). I would argue that the commingling of these imperatives results in a normative culture or society—both the upheld fiction of perfection and the systematic self- and Other-surveillance and bodily discipline of normative processes. 5This is true for women particularly, but the stigma of femininity is also applied to men. For instance, Demosthenes was said to have been soft and lame because he spoke with a stutter and had an overly feminine demeanor. Physical disability is mingled with femininity to discredit him—see his exchanges with Meidias in particular and Cicero's investigation of Demosthenes' self-education in De Oratore. The story of Demosthenes that has been popularized holds that through rhetorical practice Demosthenes overcame these "impediments" to become a great orator (see Hawhee; Fredal). The possibility that Demosthenes' difference could have queered his bodily/rhetorical performance in a generative sense is not addressed—indeed, any such transgressive possibility is ignored, despite that fact that other historians convincingly challenge the narratives of overcoming and passing that have been ascribed to Demosthenes (see Martha Rose). 6In contrast, an abstract, flawless (male) body becomes a tool for norming. As (Plato wrote and) Socrates said in the Phaedrus, "[A]ny discourse ought to be constructed like a living creature, with its own body, as it were; it must not lack either head or feet; it must have a middle and extremities so composed as to suit each other and the whole work" (128). 7In the Phaedrus, Plato could be seen to change positions slightly, suggesting that certain forms of more "scientific" and therefore "noble" rhetoric might be acceptable (see White; Ramsay; McAdon; Solmsen for a range of readings). 8I gesture here to the work of Rosemarie Garland-Thomson and her book Extraordinary Bodies: Figuring Physical Disability in American Culture and Literature, foundational in disability studies. Garland-Thomson was one of the first scholars to show that "seeing disability as a representational system engages several premises of current critical theory: that representation structures reality, that the margins constitute the center, that human identity is multiple and unstable, and that all analysis and evaluation has political implications" ("The New Disability Studies" 19). These premises are also the premises of this essay. 9Hawhee's linkages between mêtis and wrestling, and then between wrestling and rhetoric, provide an interesting image for this form of intelligence: "the corporeality of mêtis" as "struggle" or "the swarming mass of cunning craftiness and flailing limbs" (46, 45). 10In Randy Lee Eickhoff's recent translation of the Odyssey, he points out that Odysseus, considered to be another exemplar of mêtis, uses the name me tis or "no man" as a pun (n4; 404). 11 Mêtis has the practical advantage (and perhaps theoretical disadvantage) of "disappearing into its own action [so that] it has no image of itself" (de Certeau 82). Mêtis cannot be contextualized or schematized because each time it occurs in a context, it shifts that context, and each sequence it is inserted into is distorted (de Certeau 83–84). 12In the classical context, Homer, the mythical seer Tiresias, Oedipus, the great orator Demosthenes, Paris's killer Philoctetes, Croesus's deaf son, and others form our view of disability. In these stories, typically, disability impels narrative through the themes of overcoming, compensation, divine punishment, and charity. 13As I have previously argued, we can also view mythical discourse as, in the words of Susan Jarratt, "capable of containing the beginnings of … public argument and internal debate" (35). Despite the idea, advanced by Eric Havelock in particular, that myth was rote and didactic, we might see myth as being connected to the body, as being highly rhetorical, as being an arena for mêtis—thus my retellings hopefully honor this spirit (see also Slatkin). 14The myth of Metis can be traced as far back as Hesiod (Theogony lines 886–900). 15It is worth noting that these ableist accents on the denunciation of mêtis are also accompanied by a distinct ethnocentrism and even xenophobia. The word metic meant immigrant in ancient Athens. The word is a compound of the words change (meta) and house (oikos), and literally meant someone who changed houses. Many of Plato's attacks on the flexibility, malleability, and the bodily materiality of rhetoric are aimed at the Sophists, metic non-Athenians, and are part and parcel with a larger ideological agenda. 16 Techne was similarly made practical. As Janet Atwill explains in Rhetoric Re-Claimed, techne, when it is allied with mêtis (as it is by the Sophists), "deforms limits into new paths in order to reach—or, better yet, to produce—an alternative destination" (69). Yet we now refer to technai, handbooks full of sets of rules and examples, when we think of techne. William Covino argues that "reactions against the Sophists contributed to the establishment of rhetoric as techne without magic" (20). This distortion is similar to the attempt to ally mêtis only with the forms of knowledge Plato and Aristotle most highly value—to make it precise, a science, as Aristotle does. 17When defining phronesis in the Nicomachean Ethics, Aristotle never truly rules out the idea that one would need some form of cunning intelligence to have "prudence," and the version of phronesis he outlines is certainly an abstract form of knowledge. He suggests that to have prudence one must understand particulars as well as universals. Yet the version of phronesis that was later adopted—for instance as one of the Medieval four cardinal virtues—sheds much of this uncertainty and avoids reference to cunning intelligence. 18There also may have been a familial connection between Hephaestus and Medusa—in some myths the two are sexual partners. Their child, Cacus, was said to be a fire-breathing giant. Cacus was said to eat human flesh and nail human heads to his door. Killing him was one of Heracles's twelve labors (Graves, The Greek Myths 158). This link is not made by all scholars, though the story shows up in Ovid and in Virgil's Aeneid. 19Often, Medusa wasseen to symbolize "artful eloquence." For instance, Coluccio Salutati in the fourteenth century and Nancy Vickers in the twenty-first both argue for this reading. As Salutati suggests, the snakes on her head might be seen as "rhetorical ornaments … instruments of wisdom" because snakes are "reported to be the most cunning" (55). In this interpretation Medusa turns an audience to stone not because of her looks but because of her rhetorical power—her audience "so convinced of what they have been persuaded that they may be said to have acquired a stony quality" (56). Vickers goes further, sourcing this connection back to Plato (254). She also argues that Medusa's "stoning" be seen as a rhetorical power, an ability to change the audience's state of mind, accompanied by a somatic effect. Finally, she suggests that Medusa's rhetorical power might represent the freezing of us all before the specter of the feminine—and she asks what we might do to reverse a legacy of neutralization and appropriation of the Other. 20As an example of the ways that myths crucially disagree with one another, we can see that in Homer's version of the story, Medusa comes into the world with her head of snakes. I think such differences reveal quite marked transitions in and contestations of signification. 21Of course it matters very much whether Medusa was raped or not. As Patricia Klindienst Joplin has argued, this rape has often been elided, and responsibility for it shifted away from Poseiden to Athena. She suggests that this shifting of responsibility essentially excuses men's violence toward women and thus silences women further. 22Detienne and Vernant write that mêtis was often symbolized by the octopus. Thus this connection to the octopus of mêtis may not have been coincidental. Certainly the original Medusa myth relied upon a reference to the dangerous, trapping "knot made up of a thousand arms" that the octopus represented and that conveyed a sense of the powerful double-ness and unpredictability of mêtis (38). 23Graves writes that vials of Medusa's blood were widely distributed: The blood had the power both to kill and to cure (Greek Myths 175). There are many contradictory stories about who received the blood, who distributed it, and who used it for good, who for bad (Greek Myths 175). 24The myth may also express a male fear of Medusa's creative power—she is so "procreative" that her children Chrysaor and Pegasus spring from her dead body (Graves, Greek Myths 127). 25I would argue that as teachers, we need to avoid the temptation to "eat" mêtis and wrest control over knowledge away from students. Students' cunning strategies and divergent expressions may threaten us or challenge us, but we cannot believe that mêtis is something we use on students, that we can be the sole tricksters, holding student bodies captive. Nor can we use the brute force of Zeus or Perseus to coopt their power when it threatens us, to subordinate their thinking bodies. 26The French word métis is related to the Spanish word mestizo, both coming from the Latin word mixtus, the past participle of the verb to mix and connoting mixed blood. 27In critical theory the concept of metissage also locates and interrogates the ways that certain forms of knowledge have been relegated to the margins, and thus this concept links usefully to the stories I have been reanimating. Metissage, obviously etymologically linked to mêtis and meaning mixture or miscegenation, has been used as a critical lens through which one might observe issues of identity, resistance, exclusion, and intersectionality. Relying upon metaphors of mixture that are biological and cultural, this concept of metissage both is like and is what Gloria Anzaldúa refers to when she writes about mestiza consciousness. (See Steinberg and Kincheloe; Hardt and Negri; Gruzinski; Glissant.) 28Coatlalopeuh later becomes conflated with the Virgin of Guadalupe after the Spanish Roman Catholic conquest of Mexico. 29Carrie McMaster also suggests that we might learn from Anzaldúa's writing about her own bodily difference—having experienced congenital disease, chronic illness, disability—to "draw non-homogenizing parallels between various embodied identities" ("Negotiating" 103). In Anzaldúa's own words, "[T]hose experiences [with disability] kept me from being a 'normal' person. The way I identify myself subjectively as well as the way I act out there in the world was shaped by my responses to physical and emotional pain" ("Last Words?" 289). From this we can make some suggestions about the epistemological entailments of mestiza knowledge—it comes from unique, never "normal," bodied experiences. The "leap" that should be encouraged, then, is to see such situated knowledge as vital and perhaps even central to human experience. The "abnormal" body is not something given to women symbolically as a form of derogation; it is an engine for understanding and thus has serious rhetorical power.

Pedagogical materials from the early twentieth-century Americanization movement functioned rhetorically as responses to public discourse, which was highly critical of immigrants' language practices. In teachers' journals and language textbooks, educators engaged in a dialogue with the public, seeking to establish themselves as proponents of social progress and cultural stability. They framed English instruction as a tool for a refashioning of the nation and embraced monolingualism as a unifying force within that nation. As educators sought to engage native-born Americans and immigrants alike in the creation of this ideal nation, assumptions about national identity became embedded into pedagogical practices.

This article analyzes the conceptual metaphor Corporations Are Governments in order to demonstrate the integral relationship between the unconscious operations of metaphor emphasized by conceptual metaphor theory and explicit rhetorical influences such as linguistic choices, patterns of rhetorical response, and overarching narratives that are used to organize and evaluate evidence. It argues that conceptual metaphors are shaped significantly by a give-and-take among ideologically accented and often deliberately considered metaphors, metonymies, and narratives.

The Rate My Professors (RMP) online student discourse community shapes and defines current public rhetorics of pedagogy. RMP is a cultural phenomenon indicative of a larger movement in extra-institutional discourse toward ranking and assessing people and products. More important than the postings on RMP, however, or their measurable accuracy, is how RMP reflects the increasingly convergent interests of consumer culture and academic culture, shaping the ways that pedagogy is valued and assessed by students within the public domain. Faculty therefore must consider RMP's effect on public discourse about pedagogy in order to help students understand evaluation as a tool for civic exchange.

In 1834 the Richmond Whig declared with alarm that “the Republic has degenerated into a Democracy” (Sean Wilentz. The Rise of American Democracy. New York: Norton, 2005. 425). What they meant was t...

Socrates: But I do think you will agree to this, that every discourse must be organized, like a living being, with a body of its own, as it were, so as not to be headless or footless, but to have a...

In this essay I analyze the plain style as conceived of and used by the Lollards, a late fourteenth-century religious group. I argue that the same practices that set Lollard reading and writing apart from orthodox discourse were foundational to the Lollards' departures from orthodox belief, theorizing language and style in such a way that meaning was free from priestly mediation. This demonstrates the importance of the Lollard plain style as both a marker of heresy and a precursor to subsequent notions of plainness.

Margaret Cavendish took an active part in the Royal Society's discussions about plain style. Her contributions to the Royal Society's plain style discussions were closely connected to her scientific practices, both of which explicitly and implicitly challenged the practices of the Royal Society. In her own rhetorical practices, Cavendish modeled herself as a reader and writer of scientific texts, and her challenges to the discursive and experimental practice of seventeenth-century science make her a compelling figure in the rhetoric of science.

During the Middle Ages scholars shifted from using only Latin in academic writing to incorporating the vernacular, English. As Latin helped shape vernacular writing, so did the vernacular shape Latin. And though influenced by Latin academic writing, the vernacular created a new discourse, neither entirely Latin nor English, but informed by both. This article explores the lessons that we, as contemporary scholars, can learn from the past about incorporating home languages in academic discourse.

In addition to the need to correct a significant number of typographical errors, a few factual mistakes, and a few translation omissions, Kennedy explains in his “Prooemion” that the impetus for th...

Abstract This article examines the strategies nineteenth-century American women physicians used to maintain a respectable ethos when writing about human sexuality and reproduction. In order to make these topics appropriate for women, women physicians strove to alter the connotations surrounding sex, insisting that readers view it from a scientific, socially conscious, pure standpoint. The popularity of these texts suggests that women were active in shaping the scientific and social discourse surrounding “delicate” subjects.

Abstract This essay blends critical race theory and Eduardo Bonilla-Silva's sociological theory of color-blind racism to interrogate color-blind rhetoric. It uses the Kennedy–Nixon Presidential Debates as a site that, while illustrating the widely presumed duplicitous nature of political discourse, paradoxically romanticizes and concretizes the concepts of freedom and equality as race-neutral categories. Tracing the term “color blindness” to the Plessy Versus Ferguson case, the paper exposes the rhetorical and material limitations of legal language, from the Brown Versus the Board of Education decision to current controversies surrounding affirmative action, which advocate race neutrality rather than progressive color consciousness.

Abstract This essay blends critical race theory and Eduardo Bonilla-Silva's sociological theory of color-blind racism to interrogate color-blind rhetoric. It uses the Kennedy–Nixon Presidential Debates as a site that, while illustrating the widely presumed duplicitous nature of political discourse, paradoxically romanticizes and concretizes the concepts of freedom and equality as race-neutral categories. Tracing the term "color blindness" to the Plessy Versus Ferguson case, the paper exposes the rhetorical and material limitations of legal language, from the Brown Versus the Board of Education decision to current controversies surrounding affirmative action, which advocate race neutrality rather than progressive color consciousness. Notes 1I appreciate Lorien Goodman, Steven Mailloux, Catherine Prendergast, Jacqueline Jones-Royster, and Victor Villanueva for making comments on a rough draft of this essay. I wish to especially acknowledge RR reviewers Keith Miller and Barbara Warnick for their insightful suggestions. 2Though it has been well documented that many blacks switched allegiance from the Republican Party to the Democratic Party with Franklin Roosevelt's presidency, many others remained loyal to the GOP. Of particular note here were the two preconvention meetings that the NAACP sponsored in 1960, one in Los Angeles for the Democrats and the other in Chicago for the Republicans. Of the combined 14,500 who attended these meetings, 7,500 attended the pre-Republican convention. According to Roy Wilkins, the NAACP was determined to remain nonpartisan. Aside from this, several prominent African Americans, according to Taylor Branch, wanted Democrats other than Kennedy to receive the presidential nomination. Congressman Adam Clayton Powell, for example, initially supported Lyndon Johnson. Baseball great Jackie Robinson, a Republican, supported Democrat Hubert Humphrey during the primaries. Robinson said he would support Nixon if Kennedy were nominated, and Powell, as the third Kennedy-Nixon Debate reveals, eventually made some outlandish statements in support of the Democratic frontrunner. Powell's support, if not these statements themselves, may be attributable to the bribe Powell sought and received from the Kennedy camp. See The Crisis, August-September issue of 1960 and Branch's critically acclaimed Parting the Waters. 3While Nixon alludes to Lincoln five times in his acceptance speech for the Republican nomination in July 1960, he does not invoke his name at all during the four debates. Kennedy alluded to Lincoln twice during his acceptance speech and four times during the debates. Though both men referred to how slavery supposedly fueled Lincoln's moral fervor for the Union's cause, all of the references gloss over the inequities that African Americans were experiencing during the 1960s, and only one of these references, ironically, identifies their race. Equally important, domestic freedom became a synecdoche for America's international agenda. Lincoln's larger-than-life status as a harbinger of freedom for blacks has been well researched and critiqued. For a fairly recent, provocative analysis, see Lerone Bennett's Forced into Glory: Abraham Lincoln's White Dream. 4The Republican and Democratic respective civil rights planks of 1960 are worthy of rhetorical analysis aside from this study. As might be expected, both parties appealed to the spiritual, legal, and moral implications for civil rights that the Constitution and Declaration of Independence supposedly suggest. More surprisingly, each plank condemns racial discrimination as a practice that extends beyond southern borders. Both planks also appeal to the civil rights acts of 1957 and 1960 as the foundation and impetus for racial progress. While the Democratic platform set a deadline of 1963 (an acknowledged link to the centennial of the Emancipation Proclamation) to comply with the Brown decision, the Republican platform rejects this specific timetable, believing that it would actually encourage delays in school desegregation. Under proposals to ensure voting enfranchisement, the Republican platform proposes that "completion of six primary grades in a state accredited school is conclusive evidence of literacy for voting purposes." In contrast, the Democratic platform promises to "support whatever action is necessary to eliminate literacy tests and the payment of poll taxes as requirements for voting." These passages underscore a fascinating ironic twist, for it was the Southern Democrats (Dixiecrats) who started and protected literacy tests as one way of disenfranchising black voters; yet the Republican proposal could be viewed as an appeasement to the Southern Democrats' constituency. 5The widely recognized birth date for the Sit-in Movement is February 1, 1960. Only nine days later, according to Lerone Bennett, "the movement had spread to fifteen Southern cities in five states." By March 22, "more than one thousand blacks had been arrested in sit-in demonstrations." No wonder Nixon felt compelled to say a word about this movement. Curiously, he did not say more. More curiously, Kennedy says nothing on this topic during the debates. 6Kennedy admits during this debate that he borrows the phrase "moral leader" from Franklin Roosevelt. The Democratic Platform also uses the expression. In reality, Kennedy, according to Mary Dudziak among others, would not become fully convinced about civil rights until after the Birmingham campaign of April and May 1963, and the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church bombing in September would transform him into a full-fledged moral leader. 7At the close of the fourth debate, Nixon asserted that with regard to "civil rights," the Republican Party had made "more progress in the past 8 years than in the whole 80 years before." The Republican platform, from which Nixon lifts this statement almost verbatim, specifies what "progress" Nixon may be alluding to, namely the civil rights legislation passed in 1957 and 1960. 8King had little tolerance for permutations of "liberalism" that were not radically progressive on the issue of racial justice. Two stellar examples of this posture are his speeches, "Give Us the Ballot," delivered in front of the Lincoln Memorial in 1957, and the other, "The Rising Tide of Racial Consciousness," delivered at the Golden Anniversary Conference of the National Urban League in 1960. Both speeches contain sections that challenge Northern liberals to examine their motives behind fears about achieving racial justice. See The Essential Writings and Speeches of Martin Luther King, Jr., James M. Washington, editor. Additional informationNotes on contributorsDavid G. Holmes David G. Holmes is Associate Professor of English and Blanche E. Seaver Professor in Hu-manities at Pepperdine University, where he teaches courses in rhetoric, composition, the civil rights movement, and the Harlem Renaissance. His most recent essays have appeared in College English and in the anthology Calling Cards. His research interests include epistemologies and rhetorics of racism, theories of ethos, and the civil rights movement mass meetings.

While conducting research for this article, I often came across this claim: Rhetorical criticism has traditionally been housed in speech communication de partments.1 One look at the bibliography for this article seems only to validate this claim; almost all of the journals and books are written by and for speech communication scholars. And really, this comes as little surprise when we con sider that the majority of the New Rhetoricians are communication theorists or that speech communication scholarship has been interested in analyzing specific communication situations. In all, the work of these scholars attempts to define the strategies employed, determine whether those strategies were effective to a specific rhetorical situation, and from that, articulate theories based on this care ful observation about different approaches to rhetorical criticism. However, I remain uncomfortable with making the claim that rhetorical crit icism grew up in speech communication, which to me implies that the field of rhetoric and composition does not have a history with rhetorical criticism. Yet many of the publications in our field give lie to that implied claim?Shirley Wilson Logan's We Are Coming: The Persuasive Discourse of Nineteenth Century Black Women, for example, conducts rhetorical criticism of the public discourses and speeches of nineteenth-century black women, while Ken McAllister's Game Work: Language, Power, and Computer Game Culture con ducts an in-depth rhetorical analysis of computer games in an effort to articulate a rhetorical theory that can account for games as a rhetorical text. The reason that rhetorical criticism has historically belonged to speech communication may simply be the fact that speech communication scholars have attempted to define and theorize it as a legitimate disciplinary concern. The purpose of this bibliographic synthesis is to provide rhetoric and composition scholars with a broad understanding of the field so that we can begin to theorize the work we do with rhetorical criticism and think through the ways in which we can enrich our own scholarship. Due to page-length limitations, I am unable to provide a synthesis of all the different approaches to rhetorical criticism. I have chosen to limit my scope to definitions, general methodology, and objects of rhetorical criticism, which com prise the first three sections. The final section will summarize four textbooks on rhetorical criticism, all four of which provide excellent starting places for those

This article examines issues surrounding the maternal rhetor in public spaces through a case study of Anne Hutchinson, a leading figure in the antinomian controversy that divided the infant Massachusetts Bay Colony during the late 1630s. It details how Puritans employed Hutchinson's fertility and malformed offspring to discredit her, silence her supporters, and consolidate secular and religious power. Their argumentative uses of Hutchinson's pregnancy and childbirth constitute a form of maternal rhetoric, a set of gendered obstacles, opportunities, and persuasive means that arise at the junction of maternity and public discourse.

Recent discussions of metaphor illuminate its function as a paradigm-building trope with significant rhetorical and epistemological power. Historical and current discourse within biological science provide a complex and poignant example of metaphor's influence: Throughout much of the twentieth century, the field operated under a deterministic assumption that DNA is the "genetic code." Though this reductionist association still shapes biological research, postgenomic discoveries are now reconceiving the connection between DNA and cells in more complex ways. The ensuing scientific debate demonstrates that rhetoric and language have primary roles in the discourse of contemporary biology, creating a rhetoric of cells.

Abstract Through rhetorical analysis this study examines the recent discursive practices in our country about smallpox vaccinations. Michel Foucault maintains that no analysis is complete without contextualizing and historicizing the discourse we hope to understand. Smallpox vaccinations have a four-hundred-year-old history, and the insights gained from such historic studies can teach us much about our present course. Recent studies, including a Harvard survey, help us contextualize the present discourse. By comparing present and past practices, we gain a perspective that gives us predictive power as well as a concrete plan for the future in this time of bioterrorist threats.

This essay engages two contemporary views as to the authorial purposes of the Rhetoric. Advocates of one view maintain that Aristotle valued democracy and understood rhetoric to be a form of positive civic or democratic discourse and that the Rhetoric was written to express this view, while others suggest that Aristotle's purpose in writing the Rhetoric was to instruct members of the Academy and Lyceum in the "necessary evil" of using rhetoric to deal with the ignorant masses. In response, I demonstrate that the first view is clearly not supported by the Aristotelian texts and that the second view needs to expand the contexts within which the Rhetoric is understood to include the long and turbulent transmission and editorial history of the Aristotelian corpus before any purpose or intent can be ascribed to Aristotle without so much qualification as to make the ascription essentially meaningless.

This article combines feminist and historical rhetorical theories to analyze the rhetoric of US Representative Helen Gahagan Douglas, who served in the House from 1944-1950 and was defeated by Richard Nixon in the 1950 race for US Senate. The article examines Gahagan Douglas's 1946 speech "My Democratic Credo" within the social and linguistic context of US political discourse of the late 1940s. Gahagan Douglas engaged in rhetorical "cross-dressing" to create a rhetorical space for herself in the male House by adopting a masculinist Enlightenment discourse to create her ethos as a rational, didactic representative.

This essay examines rhetorical instruction and student writing at Texas Woman's University, a public women's college. Unlike their peers at elite, private women's colleges in the East, students at TWU were consistently encouraged to write and speak in public forums, to take part in political discourse, and to think of themselves as rhetors. The vocational focus of the school meant that the campus could never serve as a cloister, and the ever-present support of activist clubwomen gave students powerful role models for participating in the public sphere.

Abstract This essay examines the question of the body as it appears in Burke's texts. Drawing upon a rereading of-and friendly amendment to-Burke's action/motion writings, I argue that other terminologies of embodiment suffer from a lack of complexity and therefore offer not dialectics but rhetorics of embodiment. After briefly applying this reading of Burke to discourse on race and racial identity, the essay concludes that his action/motion polarity can be used as a critical instrument of sorts, prompting us to greater vigilance regarding the vocabularies of embodiment we employ, the terms we impose upon our bodies and ourselves.

One thread in the American nineteenth-centuryi f discourse of sentiment wraps itself around women's bodies.1 This essay is about those bodies, women's writing, and sentimental rhetoric. The three intersect in corsets-and not just in those torso-squeezing contraptions that assured a woman's hourglass figure in Western bourgeois Figure I Coat advertisement, culture from at least the 1750s to the early twentiMcLure's Magazine (1896). eth century. In this article I address a number of cultural constructions, formal matters that perform a kind of poesis shaping a woman writer's heart, spirit, and body back in the nineteenth century, and now, too. The Canadian National Film Board ad quoted above views the corset and its culture only as restraint. But sentimental rhetoric puts those corsets and cultural bodies in a different light. Rhetorical codes map a particular significance of

Rita Copeland, a medievalist, reminds us that rhetoric is a the real world, circumstance, shifting and fragmented experience; in other words, a the itself (Framing Medieval Bodies 155). It is this discourse the body that concerns me here, translating temporality, circumstance, shifting interests into the following: time, space, weight. These three are the terms I will pursue, focusing on the work Milan Kundera and the late Andre Dubus as examples. They bring the bodies their characters into existence using space, weight, and time; that is, they write the body-inscribe it, mold it, shape it, give it material presence-just as dancers do. I want to suggest a rhetorical theory of the body in terms space, weight, and time and then to demonstrate how that theory might fruitfully inform our interpretation texts-not only literary texts like those Kundera or Dubus but also non-literary texts, such as journals, diaries, letters.1 The terms I am using come from Rudolf Laban, who developed a complex system movement analysis, a part which is called Effort/Shape. He worked first with ballet in Central Europe and later studied motion among British factory workers during World War II (efficiency studies). Many moder dancers have adopted his insights about movement and talk about space, weight, and time as characteristics choreography and their own bodies. They judge a good dance by its use space, weight, and time (these aren't the only criteria, course); they train their bodies first to understand its idiosyncratic preferences for using space, weight, and time and second to understand their bodies in relation to these three.

Mina Shaughnessy has long been revered as leader, even founder, of basic-writing movement, which emerged from open-admissions educational policies of egalitarian 1960s. Throughout 1970s, 80s, and 90s, most professionals in have accepted role of basic writing as defined by Shaughnessy in Errors and Expectations and as enacted in classrooms of City University of New York, where action of book took place. Indeed, Jeanne Gunner calls Shaughnessy's work the starting point of reference for these professionals (28); seldom does a discussion of basic writing not referand defer-to Shaughnessy.' In spite of almost universal acclaim for Shaughnessy, some articles about work have appeared with contradictory, even negative, visions: Paul Hunter describes Shaughnessy as radical for caring so much about and believing in students, most of whom were minorities; Min-Zhan Lu describes as conservative-and a gatekeeper and accommodationist-for wanting to acculturate them. And while no doubt both Hunter and Lu have captured truths about Shaughnessy, CCNY's Patricia Laurence argues that historical dimension is missing from many such analyses, that they set Shaughnessy adrift on educational raft-unmoored from [her] times, [her] institution, [her] field (880). In essay describing these intra-community conflict[s] (26), Gunner argues that literature about Shaughnessy can be categorized into two forms of discourse: iconic and critical. In iconic discourse Shaughnessy is invoked as a figure and symbol with meaning beyond identity as historic person (26). Time editor Stephen Koepp, in issue on heroes and icons, defines icon as an embodiment of ideal that affects way we live act, for better worse. Only possibility of or worse, in fact, really differentiates Koepp's icon from his hero-one who changes society for better by shatter[ing] a limitation convention (6). Certainly, iconic literature of basic writing invokes Shaughnessy as positive icon-as a hero. The imagery in eulogies describing Shaughnessy shortly after death set tone for this type of literature: Irving Howe spoke of the brightness of her (102); E. D. Hirsch, Jr., described how human influence radiated out (96); Adrienne Rich stressed way work illuminates (102).

Although there has been much discussion in composition studies for the past several years about the importance of contact zones, dissensus, and conflict to the process of learning (Bizzell; Harris; Jarratt; Lu; Olson; Trimbur; West), there has been less talk of the relationship between safe houses and conflict, as well as the role anger plays in social and political engagement. Some composition scholars have argued that in order to help prepare students for participation in civic culture, it is necessary to articulate radical pedagogies, ones that encourage modes of argumentation and that see the tensions of social difference as points of political friction to be interrogated. In arguing for the necessity of agonistic pedagogical models, however, it is easy to overlook not only the affective relations of social and political engagement but also the fact that conflict and dissensus-precisely because of emotional ties and affective investments--o not always follow the proscriptions of reasoned or civil discourse, that engagement cannot always be understood in terms of prevailing rationalities and intelligibilities. In arguing for the importance of conflict (that ideological positions are forged and tested through argumentation rooted in social difference), it is also easy to ignore that sometimes we need to deal with some of the more damaging and long-lasting results of engagement: the effects of pain, violence, cruelty-psychic and emotional injury as well as physical

I participate in a teaching and learning collaborative called Intercollegiate Electronic Democracy Project (IEDP). The project's goal is to enable students' participation in democratic culture through rhetoric and public writing. Using Internet and Web technology, we inhabit an electronic public sphere where both teaching and learning are collaborative, connecting teachers and students from many institutions across country, and where pedagogy, public issues, and politics intersect. From perspective of rhetoric and composition, IEDP embraces three topics important to our field: computers and writing; public discourse, especially deliberative rhetoric; and multiculturalism, specifically contact-zone theory and pedagogy. This essay elaborates some implications of this nexus. While much of pedagogy I discuss reflects strategies successfully used in IEDP, its implications extend to similar projects that engage students in electronic public sphere. Ever since Mary Louise Pratt challenged teachers to develop pedagogical arts of contact zone (40), many teachers have become more sensitive to multicultural dynamics of their classrooms, and they have begun to chart what Richard E. Miller calls the uncharted realms of teaching and studying in contact zone (407). There have been theoretical projects such as using contact zones as a basis for rethinking and reorganizing English studies (Bizzell); efforts such as those that address challenges posed by asymmetrical power relations in classroom (Miller) and differences in cultural perspectives and values (van Slyck); and investigations of specific contact-zone phenomena such as students' strategies for coping with dominant discourses (Canagarajah) and the politics of style (Lu). These developments signify our ability to respond to multicultural classroom conditions by accommodating educational needs and desires of all students. Nowadays, however, classroom per se is no longer sole site for teaching, learning, writing, and speaking. With growing interest in public discourse and civic participation among students-and with rapidly increasing

Cynicism is that offers the contemporary reader creative links with an ethical past as well as important legacies of rhetorical tactics.' In particular, a rereading of the Cynics provides an important but overlooked history that harbors some strategic ethical positions for rhetoric.2 In the Cynics we find the possibilities of rhetorical resistance as well as places from which speakers and writers who remain at the margins can launch critique, those minority voices that get silenced under the monolith of majority conversation. This is an important tradition of Cynic rhetoric; it operates from the margins, taking its model from their forced or chosen exile. It foregrounds the political by calling attention to the inequity in both speech and discursive situations. Cynic tactics are impolite and disruptive, for if you are a minority, you have to shout to be heard (Hodge and Mansfield 199). This disperses the centrality of logic in philosophy and by operating by a logic of its own, one that uses parody and satire to question accepted norms (Branham). Cynic uses the body and accounts for desire in constructing its ethics; it is, as Edward P. J. Corbett describes, a closed fist that is at once persuasive and potentially coercive in its ethos of action (99). What distinguishes Cynic from other, more authorized rhetorics is its physicality, its emphasis on the equation of principle, discourse and action, and its blatant disregard for community standards of decorum. The Cynic rhetoric of confrontation is a counterstatement to the of Aristotle that presuppos[es] the 'goods' of order, civility, reason, decorum, and civil... law (Scott and Smith 7). The Cynic rejects decorum by adopting incivility as a means of speaking out on issues of social and political importance to often unwilling audiences. Cynic stages kairotic moments when dissensus, rather than consensus, becomes the goal of the speaker in imploring an audience to self-scrutiny and action. The implications of this counterstatement within the rhetorical are evident in the simple fact that little is known-or left-of the Cynics,3 unless we look to the ways in which incivility and interruption are and have become an effective discursive means to an ethical or political end. Therefore, to understand the Cynics' significance, we need to suspend our support for a of reason and decorum and lend an ear to the rhetorical possibilities of noise.

In Rescuing Discourse of Community, Gregory Clark hinted that pedagogy based on theory of discourse was in a state of crisis. In this article Clark put forward a theory of ethical participation that he believed would rescue attempts characterize writing classrooms as discourse communities. But even as he did so, he acknowledged that pedagogical practices based on rhetoric of discourse can put into motion processes that tend minimize or exclude participation of some people as they establish dominance of others (61). Others shared same concern. Joseph Harris had argued, goals as teachers need not be initiate our students into values and practices of some new community, but offer them chance reflect critically on those discourses (19). Marilyn Cooper warned that discourse may develop static standards, which are then used to determine who is and who is not a member of (204). Mary Louise Pratt characterized them as imaginary utopian communities that do not accurately represent fractured reality (50-51). Carolyn Miller said the domination of communal is a political and rhetorical problem because it seems restrict and control what can be said, what can ever be found persuasive (Rhetoric and Community 86). And Jim W. Corder, who likened discourse tribes, said that being part of such tribes represses individual's own capacities for observation, thus violating private virtues (306). These critics did not actually deny that discourse exist. Most accepted that discourse communities, like Dell Hymes' communities, exist and that they are that share rules for conduct and interpretation of speech (Hymes 54). But assumption that writing classroom constitutes such a community soon became untenable. Meanwhile, study of discourse flourished on another front as researchers investigated disciplinary and professional discourse. As Charlotte Thralls and Nancy Roundy Blyler say, the concept of a discourse community has given researchers a way talk about workplace writing in both industrial and academic settings (8). Among those doing such work, Greg Myers analyzed

Since classical times, rhetorical education has been concerned with training in the civic functions of discourse-with young people to talk about public issues responsibly and articulately. And unsurprisingly, those who study and teach rhetoric have often faced public scrutiny and have been compelled to defend their pedagogical and philosophical views. One current battle over the public function of rhetorical education centers on the politically charged writing pedagogies that emerged in our discipline during the early 1990s. These approaches, commonly dubbed radical teaching or teaching, and whose most prominent advocates include James Berlin (Rhetoric), Patricia Bizzell (Academic), Susan Jarratt (Feminism), and Mary Louise Pratt (Arts), reject the notion that college writing courses should be ideologically neutral spaces dedicated to nurturing students' individual expression. Rather, these scholars hold, rhetorical instruction should prepare to deal critically with the arguments they encounter in the dominant culture and empower them to produce texts that resist those values. And thus, they argue, writing instructors have an obligation to cultivate in an appreciation for progressive political values, a sensitivity to injustice, and an ability to debate divisive issues-skills best developed through confrontational classroom exchanges. The range of practices these scholars advocate includes asking to engage with texts written from perspectives vastly different from their own (Bizzell, Academic 283-84), to debate heated questions in class (Jarratt 118-19), and to adopt a critical stanceoften the teacher's own-toward mainstream ideologies (Berlin, Rhetoric 3637). Yet despite its lofty goals, critical has faced criticism on multiple grounds. Opponents like Maxine Hairston decry the very goals of such pedagogy, charging that it puts dogma before diversity, politics before craft, ideology before critical thinking, and the social goals of the teacher before the educational needs of the students (Diversity 180). More recently, Stephen

In Volume Two of History of Sexuality, Michel Foucault describes how the Greeks managed relations of affection between men and boys, a particularly complex task for them, given that young Greek men were in training to be free and equal citizens to the grown men who would court them.' Even while such relations were generally accepted, they still were very problematic, for both parties needed to know how to conduct themselves so as to maintain their autonomous status. To those ends this problematic generated a great deal of concerned discourse, a discourse invested with values, imperatives, demands, rules, advice, and exhortations that were as numerous as they were emphatic and singular (192). Seemingly unresolvable contradictions are good fuel for discourse, and the idea of sexual relations between autonomous (or autonomous-to-be) Greek free men was contradictory because, as Foucault hypothesizes, sexual relations for them had a distinct form and shape roughly parallel to public relations: Sexual partners could play only a dominant or a subordinate role, just as in matters of the public, some men were free citizens and all others-children, wives, and slaves-were subordinate to them. So, unlike other relationships where sexual roles were easily made consonant with social ones, sexual relations between free men and freeborn adolescent males contained a very troubling inconsistency. Given the almost fetishistic attention young men received, one was naturally expected to love and desire them sexually, but as the discourse reveals, both parties had somehow to allow for the ability of those young men to enter into what could only be understood as a submissive role even as they developed their ability to choose, act, and exercise power as free men: In the case of marriage . . . the essential question concerned the moderation that needed to be shown in exercising power. In the case of the relationship with boys, the ethics of pleasures would have to bring into play-across age differences-subtle strategies that would make allowance for the other's freedom, his ability to refuse, and his required consent. (The History of Sexuality Volume

In past several decades, much talk about orality and literacy has appeared in academic circles. Havelock (Preface to Plato and The Muse Learns to Write), Ong (The Presence of Word, Orality and Literacy), Jamieson (Eloquence in an Electronic Age) and McLuhan (The Gutenberg Galaxy) write of changes in both and consciousness associated with either or modality of communication. They write of distinctions between oral culture and oral state of mind, and literate culture and literate state of mind. However, distinction between orality and literacy itself is never directly called into question. The categories have been set and subsequent scholarly discourses pivot on these platforms. I offer an alternative discourse and argue that categories of orality and literacy are not as definitive as Havelock, Ong, Jamieson, and McLuhan would have us believe. While I agree that shifts in modalities of discourse have occurred from tales of Homer to texts of Hegel to technological trends of Hollywood, human experience does not sustain these demarcations. The sensating body experiences a simultaneity of sound, vision, and tactility, even if a particular discursive modality favors speech, print, or electronic pixels. The orality-literacy schism does not acknowledge this simultaneity. In fact, it further compartmentalizes human experience by separating it into and Havelock writes that early Greek mentality, because it was oral, was not capable of or thought (xi), and it was not until alphabetization that eye supplanted ear as chief organ (vii). For Havelock, the and sensual is coupled with oral culture while the and metaphysical is coupled with literate culture. I argue in this paper that orality-literacy dichotomy is fallacious and that notions of either being concrete or being abstract cannot be anchored in it. Furthermore, I argue that it is rhetorical capability of language, not its capacity for production or literal production, that generates either the concrete or the abstract. More specifically, I explore notion that language, whether produced orally through mouth or literally through mind will tend to be more or less euphonic, more or less dramatistic, or more or less imagistic. In short, degrees of euphony, drama, and image will be in direct proportion to degree of rhetoricity in any given discourse. With this

There has been little room for the British Romantics in the study of rhetoric because it is generally agreed that they did not concern themselves with it, but their influence upon academic culture and upon the relationship between literature and rhetoric is a central concern for contemporary studies of rhetoric, composition, and literature.2 Rhetoricians and critics divide Romantic British discourse into the rhetoricians and the poets. Rhetoricians study Hugh Blair, George Campbell, and Richard Whately while theorists study philosophers, critics, and poets such as William Blake, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, and William Wordsworth. Some substantial efforts have been made to include the literary Romantics in our discussion of rhetoric. Don Bialostosky's recent work, Wordsworth, Dialogics, and the Practice of Criticism, for example, gives us a reading of Wordsworth from a dialogical perspective, and in the past rhetoricians of such stature as Kenneth Burke (see Blankenship), I. A. Richards, and Ann E. Berthoff have included Coleridge and Wordsworth in their theories of rhetoric and composition. Still, in the main, rhetoricians regard the British Romantics with distrust.3 the surface the distrust is well earned. The term rhetoric had pejorative associations for the Romantics. Although their philosophical views about rhetoric may be traced to Plato, their belief that rhetoric was a secondary and fraudulent art was the product of a longstanding academic and ecclesiastical debate over the virtues of Ramist rhetoric, where logic afforded the composer the means of thinking and rhetoric afforded the composer a way of presenting those thoughts.4 In this view rhetoric was mechanical, and once the organic experience of creation was over, what was left to the rhetorician was merely gesture or mere rhetoric. The British Romantics' distrust for mere rhetoric led them to write about discourse rather than rhetoric. Coleridge, for example, uses the term method, a term usually associated with Descartes in philosophy and with Ramus in rhetoric, when he writes about rhetorical acts. However, throughout his works, he not only demonstrates a substantial understanding of the history of rhetoric but also includes well-known principles of rhetoric in his method. In his Essays on the Principles of Method, he argues that method is a habit of considering the relationships among things, specifically either their relations to each other, or to the observer, or to the state of apprehension of the hearers (451). Thus, although Coleridge argues against the sophists in On the

Last summer, I wrote a letter to editor of my local newspaper and coauthored a response to George Will's now-infamous assault on college writing instructional Big deal? Yes. And here's why: Like many composition instructors, I've been preoccupied for some time with what S. Michael Halloran once called the need for a revival of public discourse (246) and what 1995 Conference on College Composition and Communication called literacies, technologies, responsibilities. My response to these preoccupations has always been passive: I figured that I could best promote responsible practice of public literacies by enhancing my students' awareness of-and thus, I thought, their stake in-public issues. Unsure of whether I was actually accomplishing this, though, I decided to investigate whether there were indeed connections between students' classroom-initiated participation in literate behavior (e.g., writing, reading, and talking about issues) and their self-initiated participation in civic behavior, such as voting and writing letters to editor. To do so, I looked closely at several current issues-type writing textbooks and selected one that appeared to share my goals; I designed an attitudinal survey and a sequence of assignments; and I assembled a file of student writing samples. I'll discuss results of my study in more detail later in this essay, but for now, let me suggest that writing-about-issues texts that I examined (including America Now, one I eventually chose) do not particularly encourage students' participation in world beyond classroom, and may unwittingly repress it. And while this came as a great surprise to me, my students seemed aware of profound difference between writing about issues in class and acting on them (in writing or otherwise) outside of class. For example, in response to some end-of-semester assessment questions about America Now, one young woman, Laura G., wrote, Well, I'm not going to go join [G]reenpeace or storm White House or anything but, yes, reading some of these chapters really did [a]ffect my thinking. . . . Reading these articles caused me to speak out at times when I would have normally remained silent. I don't want to underestimate move from silence to speaking out, but I

American intellectuals and educators are dismayed by crisis in public discourse. With Jurgen Habermas and others, they worry over of public sphere and a degeneration in rational-critical debate. Cultural critics often contrast contemporary public discourse with what seems to be America's golden age of public discussion: nineteenth-century America, before culture industry or late capitalism, before professionalism, before TV, before mass media or multimedia.1 The usual suspect is modern communications technologies, specifically TV. According to Neil Postman, we should deeply lament the decline of Age of Typography and ascendancy of Age of Television (8). Televisual media, he argues, has eroded public's span and shriveled its capacity for rational thought. Looking to Lincoln-Douglas debates, he maintains that Americans' verbal facility and attention span would obviously have been extraordinary by current standards (45). The citizenry has declined, he argues, because citizens watch TV and no longer read: almost every scholar . . . has concluded that process [of reading] encourages rationality, while televisual logic short-circuits rational thought in favor of slogans, images, mere stories-in short, entertainment.2 The late Christopher Lasch, in The Revolt of Elites, blames not only television for making argument a lost art but also undemocratic leanings of intellectuals and academics. How far we have fallen, he argues, from Golden Years of nineteenth century, when serious public argument was practiced by both citizenry and media. In those days newspapers (Lasch singles out Horace Greeley's New York Tribune) were journals of opinion in which reader expected to find a definite point of view, together with unrelenting criticism of opposing points of view (163). The beginning of decline (the nadir of which he hopes we are presently experiencing) began in progressive era, when intellectual leaders preached 'scientific management' of public affairs.... They forged links between government and university so as to assure a steady supply of experts and expert knowledge. But they had little use for public debate (167). Academics and

Dionysius of Halicarnassus's attention to harmonious composition from the small part of the clause to the whole of a work is at the heart of what Eduard Norden has called Kuntsprosa, the ancient theory of formal prose composition that came to fruition during the Augustan age of the early Empire. The effort of fifth- and fourth-century BC Greek writers to provide prose the dignity and affective power of oral poetry through literate embellishment and studied arrangement was fundamental to the transformation of literate consciousness and therefore cultural consciousness in which the power of the modern state was birthed. As the eye continued to supplant the ear as a means of using words effectively to move audiences and as literacy brought about an interiorized way of thinking and manner of expression, ancient Greek and Roman historians, orators, and philosophers learned to play with language. They found in this new consciousness exciting ways in which elegantly conceived discourse could formalize the affective power of poetry and the spellbinding magic of persuasive words (Romilly). And it is this compositional tension between words heard and words seen that came to fruition in the first century Critical Essays

Person 1-I'm trying something new in my intro to literature course this year. I decided not to lecture any more. So I've been trying to have more discussion, more group work, give the students more responsibility for the course. And you know what's happened? In their journals, they say they want me to lecture; they've actually asked me to lecture. Person 2-When you get right down to it, all the theory about collaboration and shared responsibility is great if you've got students who want that sort of thing. But my students say they've paid their fees to find out what I have to say. Frankly, when I've got group work scheduled for a period, a lot of them just don't come.

Most interpretations of rhetoric use a version of what is called This standard interpretation, also called Platonic Idealism, imposes a systematic order upon philosophy out of a distinctly unsystematic group of texts. Platonism has become an interpretative construct, or a terministic screen that dominates our understanding of thinking on rhetoric. In order to get a more accurate understanding of the two dialogues that are canonical in rhetorical studies, I will reread rhetoric by exploring the ways in which presents a disclosive view of truth. The disclosive view of exists in a creative tension with the correspondence of that is articulated in Socrates' hypothesis of Ideas. I will argue that rhetoric is an inquiry into the disclosive nature of discourse. Many scholars have argued for the necessary distinction between and Platonism. Platonism is a systematic philosophy that has been constructed by others, out of texts but by himself. In the words of Jirgen Mittelstrass: Plato is no 'Platonist' (134). Emerson also argues that thinking is not a system. [And his] dearest defenders and disciples are at fault for creating the system of Platonism (491). Eric A. Havelock argues that the phrase Plato's Theory of Forms is a scholarly construct that suggests a doctrinal position in which wished to vest his philosophical prestige. But the actual tone of his writing does support (254).2 The correspondence of truth, as the discussion of Heidegger will indicate, is derived from Platonism and relies upon what Hans-Georg Gadamer calls the two-world theory. For Gadamer, the two-world theory does accurately describe thought: Plato was a Platonist who taught two worlds (1988, 260). Platonism teaches that reality is bifurcated: There is one world of phenomena, while separate and apart from this there is another more real world of forms or ideas, a world of absolute and static being. Along with Gadamer, I will argue we must reject this argument.3 Martin Heidegger's Plato's Doctrine of Truth argues that the correspondence of originates in Platonism. Although Heidegger's thesis is that the correspondence of presupposes the disclosive nature of truth, he does develop the ways in which notion of is disclosive. His critique of doctrine of truth is based upon a critique of the correspondence theory, which the character Socrates proposes as a

If writers had at their fingertips a mechanism that would produce insight, that would contribute to their self-realization, and that would enable both them and their readers to step toward understanding, would they choose to use it?1 A strategy that discovers presence and penetrates the unknown is available to us as thinkers, as writers . . . ingenium, something old is new again. This essay deliberately refuses to give a simple definition of ingenium, for it cannot be defined in a few neat sentences. Instead, ingenium unfolds with recursive definitions. The first-ingenium, an innovative cognitive power, is a human way of knowing that includes the actual in a particular context and the extraordinary with the concrete. It combines sense perceptions with the imagination to open up and reveal the world. The second definition is from Grassi-the human capacity that enables words or senses or ideas to have adaptability, acumen, and 'instantaneousness' (Heidegger 20). The third layer is a cognitive activity that links a person perceptually with others and with the natural world. A person who uncovers a space for ingenium may generate new ways of inventing or interpreting discourse, problems, or ideas. This essay briefly traces aspects of ingenium as practiced by early Greek sophists and later by humanists. Next, ingenium is conceptualized as an inventional process that has four attributes: generating multiple ideas that may situate themselves in one's hand or ear or eye, opening the senses to the phenomenal world, finding the similar, and transferring meaning through fantasy. Through ingenium we may participate in a process that mirrors our complex world. Sophist and humanist practices touch and complement each other through ingenium. Ingenium as a discovery process subverts and surprises; it actively enriches the usual either-or model perpetuated by the Western objectivist tradition. Although sophists did not call the process ingenium, it was practiced in many ways as Gorgias's Encomium of Helen (c. 414 BCE) illustrates. Years later, humanist thinkers such as Vico, Gracian, and Vives promoted ingenium's philosophic importance as a means of enlarging the possibilities for communication. From the first sophists to contemporary thinkers, philosophers recognize the power of openness in language that breaks down boundaries of binary

New research into the pre-Socratic arts of discourse (technai log6n) has not only enriched our understanding but also increased our respect for the work that the great pre-Socratic thinkers did.1 In this paper I want to encourage a rereading of the texts of Plato and Aristotle with the results of this research in mind. If scholars would accept that Plato and Aristotle, at least some of the time, reflected an understanding and respect for the work of the sophists and rhetors similar to the one now emerging, the result might well be a new, fruitful, and richer reading of the texts of Plato and Aristotle. I believe that as a result, both Plato and Aristotle would emerge as more rhetorical and nuanced than they have been previously thought to be. This seems a strange expectation. First, it is well known that Aristotle, for example, seldom seems to allude to particular individuals who were sophists with anything but scorn. Certainly, when he uses the word sophist as a general term, it is used in a pejorative sense for the besetting vices of philosophy and philosophers: self-promotion through speech and victory at any cost in speech. Such usage is itself a reflection on those who claim the name as a serious description of their work.

In August of 1810, the great Shawnee leader Tecumseh met William Henry Harrison, then governor of the territory of Indiana, at the governor's mansion in Vincennes, Indiana.1 The two leaders came together to discuss a disagreement about a recently signed treaty that would give to the United States a large tract of Native American land in central Indiana. Accounts of this first face-to-face meeting between these two important men abound, and several versions of a text of the speech delivered by Tecumseh have come down to us. These accounts and texts contain many inconsistencies, but they all agree that Tecumseh steadfastly refused to accept the new treaty. Claiming that he was speaking for all the tribes, Tecumseh is reported to have said, This land that was sold and the goods that were given for it were only done by a few (Klinck 71). He went on to predict dire consequences should the whites occupy the land that he claimed was improperly sold to them. It was an important moment in Tecumseh's efforts to unite Native Americans in opposition to white expansionism. The meeting is perhaps most famous for the dramatic way in which it ended. At one point after having finished a two-hour speech against the treaty, Tecumseh apparently became furious with Winnemac, a Potawatomie leader who had signed the treaty. As Tecumseh assailed Winnemac in the Potawatomie tongue, Winnemac became alarmed and began to prepare his flintlock pistol, whereupon many of the white spectators reached for their weapons. Harrison rose from his seat and, facing Tecumseh, drew his sword, and at the same moment Tecumseh's warriors drew their weapons as they advanced to Tecumseh's side. Accounts of the incident often highlight this image of these two leaders, one white, one Native American, facing each other with weapons at the ready, and undoubtedly the embellishments of the scene have spawned much of the folklore surrounding the great conflict between Harrison and Tecumseh that would continue over the next two years.2 But this meeting was important for other, less obvious reasons. The meeting underscores the vital role that public discourse played in the conflicts between Native Americans and white Americans as the latter pushed westward into traditional Native American lands. More important, the extant texts from this meeting and other key meetings in Tecumseh's efforts to establish a pan

Last year, I was invited to speak at a conference whose theme was the feminization of composition.2 This topic coincided with another discussion I had been following in our journals: the emergence of Rhetoric and Composition as a scholarly field. In preparing my talk, I began to raise several questions like: What is meant by feminization in these discussions? Can we assume that composition is feminized? Are the discourses on disciplinary formation and on feminization already woven together? If not, should they be? This essay explores these questions, making distinctions and telling stories that offer an alternative perspective. Let me begin with the feminization of composition. My rereading of many of these discussions3 leads me to conclude that their statements about feminization apply largely to composition instruction, not to Rhetoric and Composition as a scholarly field.4 The two reasons generally advanced are the numerical predominance of women and the nature of composition pedagogy. Accounts agree that women do most of the teaching of writing from the university level to elementary school as either full- or part-time instructors. Many descriptions of recent pedagogies maintain that instructional practices, particularly of expressive and critical pedagogies, are marks of feminization because they are collaborative, student centered, and nurturing. A few, however, dissent. Susan Jarratt and Evelyn Ashton-Jones, for example, problematize collaboration as a desirable feminine pedagogy. Lil Brannon contends that the expressivists and people like Giroux, Shor, Freire, and Rose are reinscribing patriarchy by invoking masculine heroic narratives of conquest as traditional male Romantic heroes who, like the rugged individual in the Dead Poet's Society, work against all odds to make a difference. Some historical accounts of nineteenth-century composition position it as feminized in contrast to rhetorical instruction and the emerging professionalization of English Studies. Robert Connors argues that the demise of agonistic rhetorical instruction in persuasive public discourse, which he contends had largely characterized male education up through 1850, was related to the entrance of significant numbers of women into higher education in the nineteenth century. These women were excluded from taking oral rhetoric and assigned to a more appropriate course called composition. He