Category Archives: Rhetorical Mastery

A Sampling of Revelatory Books on What Human Communication Is, and the Ways we Use its Resources

These books are especially thought-provoking for anyone seeking new perspectives on what it means to communicate.

As with every discipline, communication studies includes a special class of books that will profoundly change how we think about the subject. Omitting technical and jargon-laden tomes about communication, I suggest the following as interesting eye-openers that are accessible to any serious reader. All of these books share the trait of forcing us to rethink assumptions that sometimes more comfortable than accurate.

Erving Goffman Source: Wikipedia.org
                Erving Goffman
         Source: Wikipedia.org

The list is wide-ranging, mixing history with media theory and some far-ranging discussions of what is possible in human communication. Though some of these studies were published years ago, they remain thought-provoking for anyone interested in peeling back the onion of communication to look at some of its inner layers. These books are listed in approximate order of their accessibility to a general reader.

Erving Goffman, The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life (Anchor Books, 1959).  Goffman was a professor at the University of Pennsylvania whose influence has been global. His methodology of deep observation of everyday events provides all kinds of insights about the intricacies of even simple interactions. The book remains a stalwart for anyone interested in the sociology and communication, and for good reason. His observations of the familiar–restaurants especially fascinate him–is the perfect antidote to the bland survey research that now dominates so much of the social sciences. And because he helps us see the familiar in new ways, he’s fun to read.

Neal Gabler, An Empire of Their Own: How the Jews Invented Hollywood (Anchor, 1998). Gabler’s study of the first film entrepreneurs is a wonderful piece of social history. He observes that the men who gave us film factories reliably turning out middle-class visions of the American dream were, in many cases, socially marginalized by a virulent anti-Semitism. The ironic result is that they were sometimes kept out of key institutions in the very town they created. The book also confirms how vital film and its modern forms remain central to understanding ourselves in the world.

Nicholas Carr, The Shallows: What the Internet is Doing to Our Brains (Norton, 2011)  Carr’s popular book makes the case that the pacing and fragmentation of internet content is undermining our abilities to be critical thinkers. If he is not always convincing in describing the effects of heavy doses of screen time now common to almost all of us, his claims raise questions that everyone in the wired portion of the planet should consider.

Sherry Turkle, Reclaiming Conversation: The Power of Talk in a Digital Age (Penguin, 2015).  Sherry Turkle argues in this useful and eminently readable study, that this default model for communication is direct conversation.  And using this benchmark, she offers interviews and observations that suggest we are drifting toward preferences for connecting that weaken our links to full and vital face to face exchanges. Her concern is how we maintain our social nature if our children in particular now fear the unpredictability of direct contact with others. As she notes in her conclusion, “We want more from technology and less from each other. What once would have seemed like ‘friendly service’” from a sales clerk has “now become an inconvenience that keeps us from our phones.”

Joshua Meyrowitz, No Sense of Place (Oxford, 1986). Although written a number of years ago and in advance of widespread use of the internet, Meyrowitz makes what I believe is the best case that newer forms of human communication have undermined the psychological security that came with living only in real space and time. The book is revelatory in its assessment of how visual media work as irresistible magnets for our attention, and how visual media often weaken connections that truly matter. Given his use of seminal thinkers like Goffman and Susanne Langer, Meyrowitz’s framework for assessing communication processes is unsurpassed.  By the end of the book he’s offered a haunting intellectual case for how electronic media have destabilized once secure sources of personal identity.

John Durham Peters, Speaking Into the Air (University of Chicago, 1999). Peters is a Professor of Communication Studies at the University of Iowa and a frequent critic of the common aspirations we have for communication.  The Introduction to this book is alone worth a look.  It takes apart most of the cherished myths we hold, among them: that communication is the best pathway for settling long-standing differences, and the idea that disagreement is just a matter of misunderstanding.  When he starts by noting that “Communication is a registry of modern longings,” a reader can already sense that he is going to deconstruct many a cherished belief about the power of talk. The references in the book are sometimes obscure.  But every chapter has interesting observations, most of which come by quoting writers and thinkers who were experiencing the powers of telegraphy and the telephone for the first time.  Peters also has interesting things to say about communicating with machines, animals and perhaps other sentient beings in the universe.

Hugh Dalziel Duncan, Communication and Social Order (Oxford, 1984)  Duncan was an interpreter and synthesizer of a number of important scholars of rhetoric and literature, most notably Kenneth Burke. In this academic book he offers nothing less than a complete course on how to approach almost any human action as moment of social engagement. His understanding of the wellsprings of comedy is especially rewarding, and further evidence for the old saw that creating humor is a serious business.

Comments:  woodward@tcnj.edu

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Which Gettysburg Did He See?

Source: wikipedia.org
Gettysburg  After the Carnage     wikipedia.org

We can be surprised when an audience member begins to describe what they heard in a given presentation. It’s frequently not what we believed the presentation was about.

Most of us operate on a daily basis using what is sometimes called a “correspondence view of reality.”  This approach assumes that the material world offers up an endless parade of experiences that we take in and understand in more or less similar ways. The reality on view to all has certain reliable and corresponding meanings.  At least that’s the theory.

But after forty years as a rhetorical critic and analyst, I must say that I don’t see much evidence that the world we describe has much in common with what others believe to be present. We all know the experience of listening to a description of an event witnessed by ourselves and others, only to hear an account that misses what we thought were important defining features. There’s nothing new in this, but its a cautionary condition that ought to make us wary of the correspondence view.

I was reminded of this recently by a scene laid out in Lawrence Wright’s book on the negotiations that led to the historic Camp David Accords. Thirteen Days in September documents the 1978 efforts of President Jimmy Carter to find a way out of the chronic Arab/Israeli impasse, working with Israel’s Menachem Begin and Egypt’s Anwar Sadat.  The President put everything else on hold in Washington to spend time with these men at Camp David in the Maryland mountains.  Days passed as these three leaders looked for a way around their considerable differences.

When the talks seemed to be irrevocably breaking down, Carter decided to pack up his entourage for a quick side-trip to Gettysburg, not far the famous presidential retreat. He reasoned that perhaps a look at the bloody American fratricide that occurred on the lush hills surrounding the small Pennsylvania town would help reset the talks.

Over three days in 1863 the Confederate and Union armies saw 8,000 of their members slain and 50,000 badly wounded.  This was carnage on the scale of the 1967 Arab-Israeli Six Day War.  Begin and Sadat took all of this in, with detailed narratives provided by Carter and the local National Park staff.  But as Wright notes, the two old warriors saw very different Gettysburgs.

Like most visitors, Sadat, known for his peace-making instincts, seemed fascinated by the strategies of the generals leading the two warring armies. The timing of attacks and counterattacks are usually at the center of most narratives about this key battleground. But to Carter’s surprise it was Begin, the old guerrilla fighter, who was sobered by the magnitude of the carnage, and especially the words of President Lincoln’s short address at the site.  The Israeli leader interpreted the speech as a call for political leadership to rise above the brutal factionalism of civil war. Begin saw Gettysburg as a reminder of the horrible price that strife between neighbors can cause.

We see surprisingly different understandings play out in all kinds of prosaic ways: films we loved that others disliked, the often surprising “lessons” that individuals take away from a story about communication or interpersonal breakdown, the incomprehensibility of a cable news report.

Against the simpler correspondence view of reality that we assume, communication analysis needs something which can be called a phenomenological view of reality.  The phenomenologist tends to accept the likelihood that experience is individual rather than collective,and  that the material worlds we share are still going to produce separate and unique understandings.  Our personal values and biographies are likely to feed into interpretations of events that are specific, distinct, and often exclusive to us. Meaning is thus not a matter of consensus among strangers, but a mixture of ineffable and lifelong influences. In simple terms, two individuals may look at the hilly terrain of Gettysburg’s Little Round Top, but may be taking very different lessons from it.

Comments: woodward@tcnj.edu