Month: June 2014

Inspiration

Aristotle: Rhetoric’s Elite Definition

B. Inabinet |

We rhetoricians (yes, it’s a word) joke at conventions about our “definition”–that is, the definition of rhetoric we use. Because we all agree there is no perfect, one definition; instead, like the terrain it maps, it’s messy and depends on purpose. We’re a field of pragmatists (of the best and worst ilk).

I often go to Aristotle, even if Cicero is my true love (he used the term eloquentia, which I’ve published on elsewhere). Aristotle leads us to thinking of rhetoric, just like honor and most other things that circulate in a culture, like a scarcity economy. It is the task of ‘in any particular situation, finding the available means of persuasion.’

What’s really fantastic about this is that Aristotle knew very little about scarcity. Rhetoric for him was, as it was for Plato, a scarcity among the masses, but not necessarily the elite. The social elites of Athens, if anything, had to remove all the noisy confusion of the forum and pnyx (the deliberation spot). The masses, on the other hand, couldn’t get enough of it, and in fact, needed to be shepherded with this tool because of their lack of time or impatience for thinking things out more fully.

Today, our corporate rhetorics have made us into information elites but with only the brains of the masses. We have more access to information than ever before, but we cannot process it, and are thus left to the devices of simple images, intuitive leaps (we can call this “gut”), and friend and family networks to make decisions for us.

Enough of that for now, though. This post is about Aristotle, because they just announced his school is re-opening.

The Lyceum as it appears today. Click to see the visiting hours.

 

I have written with a co-author Art Walzer on Aristotle’s Rhetoric. In that piece, we dispelled many of the hunches and claims made by Brad McAdon: that first century editors mishandled the subject of rhetoric (because we know they were well-trained); that Theophrastus likely wrote most of the text (because we have no reason to believe this against any other member of the school or Aristotle himself, and McAdon uses a suspect list); and that the text is incoherent (as it is more coherent internally and to the rest of the Aristotelian corpus that McAdon lets on).

For the point of this blog, though, the more interesting part is Aristotle’s creation of the lecture notes we have today as his Rhetoric, and how his social position played a role in its composition.

The text, in my opinion, is a joint venture of the entire 20-year seminar group called the Lyceum, funded by the Macedonian Empire. James Berlin wrote about the text of the Rhetoric as a management of unrest. He argues that the text can be read as text for ruling power, controlling the available means of persuasion by mastering the topics of the ‘democracy’ under which Athenians believe they lived in a heavily imbalanced oligarchy under Macedonian rule. He explains (p63), “while the constitutional guarantees of ordinary citizens are not affected, their power is challenged and ultimately diminished through the management of discursive practices designed to render hegemonic the ideology of a rich and politically elite.”

What this dispels is the idea that rhetoric was a pro-democratic art under Aristotle (Hauser), with a robust public sphere and the centrality of phronesis (practical judgments) for the wise man.

On the other side of this, you have Carol Poster, who claims the strongest opposite–that Aristotle was actually antirhetorical, and merely taught students general rhetorical strategies to know how to deal with the degraded state of things in an Athenian democracy he loathed.

It’s easy to then just throw up your hands (as our interlocutor, McAdon does) and say that the text is totally incoherent and nearly useless for its ambiguity on the status of rhetoric: is it ethical? truthful? pragmatic or utilitarian? ultimate? None of the answers are clear.

This is where I think the recent archeology can be useful. Between these two opposing opinions, and seeing the text as still capable of having some unified answers, we can turn to what I call the “million dollar work.”

Imagine you are Aristotle. Twenty years or so studying under Plato, from age 17 to 37. As Athens turns anti-Macedonian, you head out with your buddy in philosophy, Xenocrates, over to Atarneus and Assos.

Hey, even I could be friends with this guy.

 

There you meet Hermias, a leader who begins putting into effect your theories on rhetoric and politics with great success. Hermias and Aristotle gain the trust of King Philip of Macedonia.

For thee what son of Greece would not
Deem it an enviable lot,
To live the life, to die the death
That fears no weary hour, shrinks from no fiery breath?
-Aristotle, Ode to Hermias of Atarneus

Xenocrates and most Athenians have deserted you because you are too Macedonian. You head out with your friend of god-like eloquence, Theophrastus, to study natural sciences on the island of Lesbos  to escape (part of Hermias’ expansion, using Aristotle’s diplomacy).

 

Unfortunately and fortunately, you are called back to become the tutor for Alexander. This is fortunate because you are chosen over Isocrates and the current leader of Plato’s Academy, given your success with Hermias, politically and philosophically. Philip gave them the Temple of the Nymphs at Mieza as their classroom.

Temple of Nymphs at Mieza, today

In return for teaching Alexander, Philip agreed to rebuild Aristotle’s hometown of Stageira, which Philip had razed, and to repopulate it by buying and freeing the ex-citizens who were slaves, or pardoning those who were in exile.

 

If you’re getting confused by now, this map may help.

But as you earn more power and right some previous wrongs, other things fall apart. Hermias is becoming too powerful and successful as an ally to the other Greeks and Phillip cuts off  communication and support. Without this powerful ally, he will be killed by the Persians, and you write a hymn and marry his daughter (Pythias) so that his memory might live on.

Aristotle’s story so far should remind us of a few things. First, that he was a stranger most places, and even his knowledge in politics, rhetoric, and ethics could not ensure stability, nor could his research win him a permanent home. He lost friends often because of resentments of his outsider, elite status, whether through his Macedonian ties or his Athenian schooling. But at the same time, he is emboldened that his ideal state had seen a glimmer of life at Atarneus–he turned a despotic rule into a more egalitarian system using Platonic tools that he developed, adapted, and refined in practice. That same success was seen as a tool, if Phillip can capture it, but as a threat in the hands of Hermias.

The story from here is more well known. Greece falls to Macedonia, with a shift among its elites to support Macedonian protection and trade.

Alexander becomes king, and Aristotle is given the Lyceum. Vastly wealthy and influential at fifty, he has some of the most valuable land, with a temple to Apollo Lyceus sitting on it, with gardens. Strolling through the gardens with students, taking a midday meal with students, and giving public lectures at night, this was a sweet gig (as long as you were on Alexander’s good side and could also keep the Athenians happy with your external influence).

So, this is where Berlin reminds us that Aristotle was “an elite,” from his Marxist perspective.

Let’s also look at the other side, though. Aristotle had helped convert Atarneus to more peaceful, egalitarian politics under its philosopher-king, who made treaties with surrounding areas.  The Lyceum was a model of egalitarian practice. Every ten days a new student would be elected to handle the administrative duties of the school, with assignments of scientific and historical research shared. That research contributed to the lectures and study of the school, all of which grew in popularity and prestige.

And though his alliance with Phillip and Alexander had always been tenuous, when Alexander killed Aristotle’s nephew Callisthenes for not treating him with sufficient reverence, Aristotle gave up his academic program under Alexander and went into exile. (An alternate version of the story, and probably also true, is that Aristotle feared anti-Macedonian Athenians, just as he had the first time he left from Plato’s Academy to Atarneus).

More important than all this though is the elitism that comes with knowledge in this time: Aristotle’s own capacity for manipulation and political power was a threat to both Athens and Alexander, as it had been to Philip with Hermias. Pseudo-democracy and empire both felt pressure from Aristotle’s methods of rhetorical.

Parts of the Rhetoric were probably written in the early phase in Atarneus with Xenocrates, in which Aristotle advises on dialectic and rhetoric in Book 1.1. The aspects on common topics and specifics seem to be contemporary with the Topics, all of this period. Other parts, such as the classification of public Athenian emotions, I have to imagine, were written within the Lyceum, with the work of students observing attributes in the forum and at the pnyx. The reason I suspect this is the projects he would have been tasked with–chronicling the lingering public emotions, stylistic elements, and argumentative patterns of a city-state increasingly run by pro-Macedonian elite. These lecture notes were likely updated throughout Aristotle’s life, so that the examples used Book II, Chapters 23-24 may indicate original creation during the Lyceum’s existence or may have been updated for delivery in that time period.

We lose very little by leaving behind pro-democratic Aristotle. It seems that Aristotle was more interested in working with the support of the Macedonians, cataloguing and protecting the remaining practices of Athenian democracy, and also anticipating a tool of finding the available means of persuasion that would unite city-states and overcome conflict as he had accomplished in Atarneus. Strong constitutions and treaties, participatory discourse of probabilistic practical reasoning among the elites, and the illusion of democracy through full-scale rhetoric for those incapable of applying themselves fully. As I said in the article, who better to do this than the author of the syllogism (for the elites) and enthymeme (for the masses and for the elites to study the masses and complete their enthymemes)?

The lecture notes and field notes that compose our books were never fully edited and compiled. Topics like rhetoric and ethics functioned well both as lecture notes for students during the day (in their technical genres, modes, and details), as well as material for public dialogues and talks at night (in their wide-ranging application, tools, and uses).

Given the funding from Macedonia, the practices and location of the school, and its increasing success as a force in Athenian life during and immediately following Alexander and Aristotle’s lives, Aristotle had to be careful about what could be said in which contexts. Lecture notes for and by students could be looser; those for the public would need to be framed as as dialogue if they were going to express strong opinions. We don’t have those today, but we can imagine them as a cross between our text and Greek theatre.

Aristotle died one of the wealthiest 300 citizens in Athens (Wood and Wood, 212). His major life decisions inscribed the memory of other academic-political elites, like Hermias and Callisthenes, as the noblemen of the times, remembered as the best (aristoi) amidst the chaos of democracy and empire.

The notes and lectures on Rhetoric we have are neither the “notes on cookery by a doctor” (in other words, notes on filling but empty bombast, by a trained philosopher)  as Poster calls it (224) or the doctor’s blueprint for a perfect democracy of reasonable people (as Hauser’s uptake would have us believe).

Instead, it’s the notes of a wealthy researcher owing obligations to his donors (and thus bolstering empire), but also hoping to sustain more egalitarian practices so that the worst pitfalls of weak, superficial democracy and totalitarian whim might be avoided. We can say this not because it’s exactly like our present needs for corporate rhetoric, but because we recognize the complexity of motives and contexts that surround us.

Timeline:

  • 384     Aristotle is born.
  • 367     Aristotle enrolls in the Academy.
  • 359     Philip II of Macedonia begins his rule.
  • 356     Alexander the Great is born.
  • 347     In spring, anti-Macedonians gain the power in Athens.
  • 347     Aristotle and Xenocrates travel to Atarneus and Assos.
  • 347     Plato dies in May, Speusippus leads the Academy.
  • 347/6(?)         Aristotle marries Pythias.
  • 346     Athens makes treaty with Philip II of Macedonia.
  • 345-344         Aristotle travels to Lesbos, works with Theophrastus.
  • 344?   Aristotle and Theophrastus travel to Stagira?
  • 344     Aristotle 384-322 (fl., philosopher)
  • 343/342         Aristotle travels to Mieza, to be Alexander’s tutor.
  • 342     Philip II of Macedonia (fl., king)
  • 341/340         Hermias is killed by the Persians.
  • 340?   Aristotle’s tutorship of Alexander ends? Or maybe until 336?
  • 340/339         Philip is at war, Alexander is king in his absence.
  • 338     Philip II defeats the Greeks, Hellenic League is formed.
  • 338     Isocrates dies.
  • 337     Greek war on Persia is declared.
  • 336     Philip II is killed, Alexander III (the Great) is king.
  • 335     Athens and other cities fail a revolt against Alexander.
  • 335     Aristotle travels to Athens and opens the Lyceum.
  • 330     Theophrastus 370-286 (fl., Lyceum)
  • 327     Alexander marries Bactrian princess Roxane.
  • 327     Callisthenes executed by order of Alexander.
  • 323     Alexander the Great dies in June.
  • 323/322         Aristotle travels to Chalkis (no later than spring 322).
  • 322     Aristotle dies, Theophrastus leads the Lyceum.

 

Bibliography

 

Philip Merlan,”Isocrates, Aristotle and Alexander the Great” Historia: Zeitschrift für Alte Geschichte Bd. 3, H. 1 (1954), pp. 60-81.

Carol Poster, “Aristotle’s Rhetoric against Rhetoric: Unitarian Reading and Esoteric Hermeneutics” American Journal of Philology 118, 2 (Summer 1997): 219-249.

Brad McAdon, “Reconsidering the Intention or Purpose of Aristotle’s Rhetoric” Rhetoric Review 23, 3 (2004): 216- 234.

Donal J. Stantona & Goodwin F. Berquist Jr., “Aristotle’s rhetoric: Empiricism or conjecture?” Southern Speech Communication Journal 41, 1 (1975): 69-81.

James Berlin in A Rhetoric of Doing: Essays on Written Discourse in Honor of James L. Kinneavy, edited by Stephen P Witte, Neil Nakadate, Roger Cherry (Carbondale: Southern Illinois Press, 1992): 55-64.

Controversia

Sustaining a Baptist Heritage

B. Inabinet |

Sometimes in pop culture we get the silly versions of “science versus faith.” These often involve Bill Nye debating a lunatic, an evangelical celebrity interpreting storms or other tragedies as God’s wrath (rather than scientifically understandable events), or at best, a simplistic, limited idea about how the two can work together–ideas that mean nothing life-changing, but let privilege continue to exist as you can have both science and faith without tension (just as pastors might also say you can have wealth and Christian humility–$40 million from preaching and God giving you great parking spots through prayer!). On the environment, churches will often “redirect” to the idea of stewardship; which, again, often plays itself out as an acceptance of everything as it is, with at least some acknowledgement that for “some people” the environment might be an issue. In other words, it is literally “business as usual.”

Furman University’s step away from the state convention reflected that growing divide, especially given the strong conservative takeover of the national Southern Baptist Convention. While not fought over any direct threat to academic freedom except trustee representation, the feeling that the denomination was becoming anti-intellectual, afraid of “modern” teaching of sciences, and willing to control schools based on doctrinal differences (especially views on social issues such as minority, women, or gay rights) had done too much.

Now we’ve gone too far. I don’t mean on those issues–we certainly have far more improvement there to make, even as we’re a regional leader. But even faculty can get caught up in the pop culture war of science versus faith, and you can imagine which has won among scholars devoted to rigorous search for truth rather than acceptance of Authority. With a practicing-Baptist President coming from a Baylor coming to serve Furman, worry existed as to what exactly this “return” to Baptist leadership might do.

Here’s a quick review of what I perceive as the high points of the Baptist beliefs:

  1. Distrustful of central authority. Baptists were organized as autonomous churches originally; in fact, it was Richard Furman who moved for some limited association, just so churches could encourage broad learning through education and missions to grow the church in other places. While they say they still are today (and are in business affairs and pastor selection), most Southern Baptist churches have become heavily doctrinally committed, receiving pastors from highly authoritarian seminaries and letting the Convention do all the political decision-making, lest those churches be kicked to the curb.
  2. Individual freedom and equality. Baptists tended to celebrate the idea of a “priesthood of believers” and “liberty of conscience.” While, yes, the sermon is crucial and only some are gifted to speak eloquently, all believers are equal in their intuitive ability to interpret the Bible, pray, participate in the symbols of the church, and so forth. It should be noted that Baptists are not Quakers, though: such a belief did not mean the complete reorganization of the church away from all authority. Baptists love eloquence, and in the south, that eloquence often came from music or beautiful sermon full of vivid description and story. Yet, it was the fulfillment of the Baptists’ own 17th century persecution, to distributed power even as churches could “elect” to keep traditions, pastors, or other practices they found useful for religious uplift. In other words, democracy was applied as a norm and destiny, not in a revolution.
  3. Intergenerational concern. Clearly the one thing that made Baptists into that name was the principle of adult immersion–that to be a part of a religious community was a personal choice, not something fated to you just by genetics or by pledging of your parents. As a commitment, this backs the two points above and adds a third: that each generation decides for itself, in small communities of individuals, what will be its relationship to its faith. And, that each generation will look to ideas and insights outside the previous generation for its mooring. It reminds me quite a bit of Jefferson’s idea of a revolution every 20 years, except that for Baptists, the revolution is internal (and thus not so bloody, thankfully). A revolution in one’s heart, as determined by every son or daughter, could mean a new beginning, a rethinking of what is important in the faith, a separation from community to discover new modes of being, or a self-determination to adopt exactly the views and practices of the proceeding bunch. But it had to be thought and made public, not merely accepted as part of a lineage.

As the Coordinator for the Sustainability faculty program at Furman, the question often comes to me of “What are we doing?” Clearly we’re trying to incorporate a new way of thinking that does not encumber future generations with the problems we’re creating, of waste, destruction, or inequality. We’re trying to think of how economy, society, and environment intersect. But I think we also are doing something a little different, given the Baptist heritage. Or, I’d like to think we are. Here I’ll use the insights from Michael Polanyi to help guide me.

  1. Faith. Even plagued by false signs, we do not discard our confidence and faith in a tacit view of the world, because doing so limits us to “Rational” authority of others, which in the end, is authoritarianism by science. Central authorities also get to play that they “know more” than the rest, whether in final appeals to violence or in socially-respected forms of knowledge and symbols of authority. So we do have to elevate individual experience and perception of such experience. “Faith,” as a personal spiritual journey, even when that means search for understanding of God and the big meaningful questions, remains vital to who we are, even as we work within the skill sets and practices of the sciences to be better and find truth.
  2. Truth. The only way to protect an institution of higher learning is to protect the idea of truth. With so much anti-intellectualism in society, I think it’s time we get serious. Truth comes not from one central place, but from communities rigorously searching for knowledge with the best methods capable. Yes, it will change generationally and contextually, as even firm scientific knowledge goes through paradigm shifts. But we don’t need to debate with people who are after something other than the truth–like speech for speech’s sake, profit, fame, or political power. We need only to keep showing and looking for evidence, with fields of inquiry structured with autonomy, independence, and only enough interdependence to get things done (grants, collaboration, raising good questions across disciplinary borders). On the other hand, demanding unity of thought or prohibiting future debate on an issue have no place.
  3. Tradition. Traditions are tacit and difficult to articulate. They inform most of what we do, intuitively and passed through generations. At a place like Furman, it is easy to forget tradition. Other than the existence of a chapel, it might be hard now to even know the school was Baptist affiliated. Then again, maybe not. By the way I’ve discussed Baptists here, the looking points would be different. Does the student experience embody generational independence, individual freedom and equality, and distrust of central authority more than similar institutions? Do they do all that without completely rejecting general authority, like collaboration and peer review? Do faculty? In teaching, do we let student rediscover their own “rules of the arts” in regard to our disciplines, or do we try to merely give them accepted disciplinary templates to work from? What about our administrators–are they inculcating these values at every step? Do they allow autonomy–as much as is possible for continued co-dependence–to the various decisions and committees of faculty governance? Do they stand up to donors when Truth is on the line?

In other words, are we taking the best parts of the traditions that come before us, remaking them with our individual conscience and truth we have gained, and ensuring that they “live on” beyond our time for reinterpretation and discussion.

We have to look for new ways to talk about sustainability unique to our tradition. I’ve tried to offer one here.

I will say it has become difficult. We were the first into sustainability, in regard to environmental campus projects, but then all our peer institutions copied those. Even in the short time of a decade, we went from visionary to regional leader. With such a pace, how do institutional needs and our moral consciences keep us unique? Budget constraints, governmental regulations and lethargy, and leadership vacuums all create huge hurdles.

But we aren’t going to grab headlines or become a symbolic leader if we’re copying our peers. We have to work with individual autonomy while not sacrificing areas where collaboration will make us better. We have to ensure that each generation and each individual gets to come into the ongoing discussion and debate rather than giving easy answers. To me, that is what “sustainability” is all about–whether it be for individuals, institutions, churches, or the Earth.