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On "Rhetoric" and "Composition" John T. Gage UNIVERSITY OF OREGON Describing anything like a stable relationship between rhetoric and composition is virtually impossible, since the terms themselves have a variety of meanings and applications. Anyone who presumes to assert what the relationship really is or ought to be is looking for trouble. An attempt to review the meanings of these terms, such as the one I am about to undertake, will not be justified by the possibility of fixing or circumscribing the field of "rhetoric and composition," as it is now popularly known. The best that we can hope for is a better understanding of what that field might entail, if it truly combines two fields, rhetoric and composition, related to each other in some meaningful way. Terministic Screens Of the two words, composition has the more stable contemporary meaning. Roughly, it means the teaching of writing in school, as in the phrase "the composition curriculum." However, that meaning must be qualified (and here the trouble starts) by observing that it is rarely used to describe the teaching of so-called creative writing, which is most often seen as a separate enterprise, as in the phrase "the composition and creative writing curricula." Not only does the term composition thereby take on the implicit meaning of "non-creative writing," but its definition will have to be smoothed over with additions like the teaching of expository writing or the teaching of nonfiction prose writing. For those composition teachers who view the process they teach as creative (as most do) or who see it as entailing processes shared by creative writers, such a qualification will not do. This association of composition with a presumably lower order of writing (the school theme) and its subsequent separation from the scope of rhetoric as an intellectual and belles-lettristic tradition may well derive from the influence of Alexander Bain textbook English Composition and Rhetoric: A Manual ( 1866), in which rhetoric revolves primarily around a theory of figurative language and composition around a theory of paragraph construction, both treated psychologically (see Horner, Mulderig). The association of composition with such a limited pedagogy contrasts to today's pedagogical practices, in which a wider range of approaches prevails, even if the product is (loosely) circumscribed by the nonfiction essay. Already we are seeing that a single term, composition, in fact stands for different concepts and that those concepts are not necessarily compatible. Even though the term is equivocal in reference to what kind of writing is taught in composition, there is relative agreement about its reference to teaching. The agreement is by no means universal. It should be noted, for instance, that the phenomenon of teaching writing in school (as a separate discipline), despite its European intellectual traditions, is primarily American. The Oxford English Dictionary does not include this meaning, familiar to every American English teacher. So, while European students would be familiar with the idea of writing compositions, they would be generally unfamiliar with the idea of composition as a subject separate from other subjects. The use of the term in nineteenth-century American education is almost exclusively in the sense of a subject to be studied and practiced separately from other subjects. But when Edgar Allan Poe wrote his essay entitled "The Principle of Composition" ( 1846), the term implied no reference to teaching; it meant composition as the activity of writing. And the kind of composition that it referred to was exclusively what is called creative writing now. Classical sources for using composition in any of these senses are scarce and inconclusive. A rhetorical treatise by Dionysius of Halicarnassus ( first century B.C.) is traditionally entitled De Compositione Verborum, but compositione is the Latinization of σύνθεσις, meaning, among other things, arrangement or order, so the treatise might as well be called On the Arrangement of Words ( Roberts8-9). It appears from Butler's translation of Quintilian ( first century A.D.) that Book X, chapter 5 of the Institutio Oratoria concerns "composition," but Quintilian does not use the verb compono there but scribo, meaning "to write." Quintilian is addressing the question of how the theoretical knowledge of rhetoric he has discussed in the first nine books can be acquired and he distinguishes writing, reading, and speaking as three possible ways. So what strikes the translator as "composition" is in fact a list of exercises in writing, such as translation, paraphrase, and imitation. There is no equivalent of composition, in the general American sense, in classical rhetoric, unless it is rhetoric itself, although the prescription of particular written exercises (the progymnasmata) is roughly equivalent to one sense, that of practicing exercises in writing. Compositio was commonly used in Roman rhetoric to refer to one of the stages through which a student or rhetor proceeds in the creation of a text: inventio, dispositio, dictio, compositio. In such a schema, according to Aldo Scaglione, compositio, also called structura, is the Greek σύνθεσις, which studies the relationship or, rather, the structural order of the parts of the sentences, hence primarily an aspect of syntax . . . but seen from the rhetorician's particular vantage point, namely one which transcends the grammatical criteria of recte dicere to rise to the level of bene dicere. ( Scaglione24-26) The term composition, in this case as in Dionysius, refers to only one aspect of rhetorical activity, and not at all to what we think of either as "composing," or "composition. "The various meanings discussed here all fall within one or another of the categories devised by Louise Wetherbee Phelps to encompass the "three levels of subject matter" that form composition as a contemporary discipline. These are: | 1. | Written language as a discursive practice (composition). | | 2. | Teaching written discourse as a practice. | | 3. | Inquiry into practices of written discourse. ( Phelps70) | Phelps' list suggests that "composition" may identify a discipline detached both from practice and from teaching, an "inquiry into practices. . . . " Indeed, the phrase "composition studies" may be gaining currency to describe the study of the process of writing, usually by means of quasi-scientific, empirical methods or according to cognitive or behavioral models. "Composition," in this sense, may not necessarily be guided by the need to teach composition as an activity. It may be, indeed it has become for some, an end in itself. The degrees of detachment from teaching within the field of "composition" may be measured by looking at the categories invented by Stephen M. North in The Making of Knowledge in Composition, where "the researchers" are said to "make knowledge" while the "practitioners apply it." While North rejects such a firm distinction ultimately, he invents four subcategories of "researchers," while lumping all teachers of composition, "Composition's rank and file," together under "practitioners." While viewing the practitioner as one kind of knowledge-maker, he does not view researchers as teachers ( North21, 22, 137). A preference for calling the field "composition studies" may indicate a desire to escape from the relatively recent corruption of composition to mean the rule-bound teaching of a narrow range of imposed forms. Such an approach derives in large part from certain handbook aspects of the rhetorical tradition. Consequently, the new term may also signify a desire to separate composition from the longer traditions of rhetoric, especially when those traditions are alleged to have outlived their validity (see, e.g., Knoblauch and Brannon23-47). Such instabilities of meaning are nothing compared to the vagaries of rhetoric itself, a term used to circumscribe a complex discipline with a long history, encompassing the study of oratory, persuasion, poetry, grammar, philology, logic, invention, style, oral performance, writing, teaching, and discourse in general. I will attempt no complete survey. (For the most comprehensive single-volume history of rhetoric, see Conley.) I will only cite some of the conditions that give rise, and have always given rise, to multiplicity in the meaning of this term. First there is the question of whether rhetoric refers to the art or the artifact--singular or plural. The same word can be used to refer to any or, on some occasions, to all of these at once. No such problem is faced by those who speak, for instance, of poetics, poetry, and poems. But for those who talk of analogous perspectives on rhetoric, it's rhetoric, rhetoric, and rhetoric. "What are you studying?" "Rhetoric." "What does it teach you to produce?" "Rhetoric." "What is that you are writing?" "Rhetoric." The word itself will not tell you whether it is to be taken to signify a theory, an activity, a body of works or a particular work. A further, and related, ambiguity haunting the word is its ability to refer either to an aspect of all discourse or to a kind of discourse. Consider the difference between these two questions: What is the rhetoric of this poem? Is this poem a work of rhetoric? In the first case, rhetoric is assumed to be a function of poems, all of which will exhibit some manifestation of rhetoric. In this sense rhetoric is considered to be a property of discourse, like grammar, that cannot not be present in some form. In the second case, however, rhetoric is assumed to be a genre of discourse: some poems are rhetorical, some are not. Rather than a property of all discourse, rhetoric is taken to be a distinguishing feature of some kinds of discourse. This is not a trivial confusion. It is present in many discussions of rhetoric and its relation to composition or other aspects of a curriculum. It is one reason, for instance, that composition and creative writing have sometimes gone their separate ways: one allegedly teaches rhetoric (as a kind of discourse) while the other teaches discourse of the not-rhetoric kind. The same confusion is present whenever the phrase "the rhetoric of poetry" or "the rhetoric of fiction" strikes a critic (such as W. S. Howell40-42) as a contradiction in terms. (It does so less these days than it used to, before Wayne Booth and Paul de Man each called their--very different--critical approaches rhetoric.) The same confusion results in much talk at cross purposes between rhetoricians in Speech departments and rhetoricians in English departments. In one recent anthology, American Rhetoric: Context and Criticism, the meaning of rhetoric is any work of the public address kind, and rhetorical criticism therefore means the criticism of works of public address only, from any perspective ( Benson 3, 9). In contrast, in another recent collection, Richard McKeon Rhetoric: Essays in Invention and Discovery, the term rhetoric is used to refer to the principles of judgment common to the making of all discourse ( McKeon, esp. 56 ff.). This would make rhetorical criticism the criticism of any text but only from a particular perspective. Quite a difference. Even when rhetoric is used to refer to an aspect of any piece of discourse, it may be used to refer to different aspects. If to ask "What is the rhetoric of this poem?" is to imply that any poem will have rhetoric in it, it is not self-evident what the question asks one to look for. For some, this question might elicit an examination of the poem's extrinsic form, for others its logical structure, for others its figures of speech, and for others all of these. In one tradition--the Aristotelian--such a question might focus on any aspect of the thought of the poem that results in its persuasive power; in another tradition--the neo-Aristotelian--it might focus in addition on the structure of the poem as a "made thing"; in yet another tradition--the Ramist--such a question would imply a narrow focus on the poem's use of specific figures of diction and nothing else. In recent history, rhetoric is used by Chaim Perelman to include "argumentative techniques" of every kind ( Realm7) while it is restricted by Paul de Man to mean "the study of tropes and of figures" to the exclusion of "persuasion" ( de Man125). The ultimate, though hardly useful, concession to this variety of uses is illustrated in Jim W. Corder's statement that. . . I believe that all analysis of writing is rhetorical. I believe that all discussion of writers and writing is rhetorical. I'm even inclined to believe that idle chitchat about writers is rhetorical. All kinds of analysis are forms of rhetorical analysis. (223) Yet another source of ambiguity comes from the use of rhetoric as a term of disparagement. "We have heard enough rhetoric; let us now put rhetoric aside and reason together." Although it would be nice if this usage were limited to politicians who want to call attention to the "mere rhetoric" of some other person's discourse in order to contrast it with their own alleged honesty and sincerity, the use of rhetoric as a pejorative term goes back to its very beginnings and has consistently nagged at rhetoricians like a conscience. The first teachers of rhetoric were held in contempt, for good reasons, by some who believed they taught deception and fraud. Later the pejorative meaning of rhetoric shifted from deception to bombast, again for good reasons. The tension between those who would see in any rhetoric a deceptive or self-deceptive motive and those who would rescue the term to describe persuasion as such, whether well or ill intentioned, is a recurring theme in the history of rhetoric. Those who study rhetoric today as an ethically neutral activity, or even as an ethically positive one, are not more "correct" in their usage than those who use the term as a disapproving label. They simply use it differently. And no one studying rhetoric within the academy today is free of embarrassment when occasionally asked by outsiders what they do, since in the public mind rhetoric often equates with "damned lies." Furthermore, the same word also applies, indiscriminantly, to the description of techniques for composing and to the prescription of those same techniques. (As I will discuss later, it is hard to know which meaning comes first, either historically or logically.) If I were to give you a book entitled The Rhetoric of Pickle Labels, you could not tell from the title alone whether it was a book analyzing the way in which existing pickle labels entice their readers or a book which purported to tell you how to construct enticing pickle labels. Look under rhetoric as a title in Books in Print for a hodge-podge of these usages. Nor is this confusion trivial for the purposes of the present ramble, since rhetoric used in combination with composition might refer to one prescriptive art in relation to another prescriptive art, or one descriptive art in relation to a prescriptive one. Textbook publishers consider any book that teaches writing to be "a rhetoric"--even if the methodology of that book is not rhetorical in any other sense--while anthologies of readings which might be analyzed for their rhetoric are not so designated. Yet another related meaning for rhetoric is seen in the title of Erika Lindemann A Rhetoric for Writing Teachers in which the term means a body of knowledge and lore of potential use to composition teachers, even though the term is acknowledged to have "a wide range of meaning" in the book itself (35). I do not mean to imply that in the face of such diversity of meaning one ought to give up using rhetoric or composition in favor of other, less polysemous, terms. Any other terms one might choose would be susceptible to the same kind of lexical variance. I do mean to suggest, however, that the mere utterance of these terms together does not suffice to identify their relationship, without one's being able to say which of many possible meanings one is calling up. The least we can do is to try to say what we mean when we talk about rhetoric and composition, rather than to assume that others will understand the phrase at face value (even those purporting to work in the same field). Again, I do not mean that every use of the term must include a justification for what it "really means." I have seen too many potentially fruitful discussions of rhetoric bog down, not in latent ambiguity about the term, but in initial, and fruitless, attempts to define it once and for all. Rhetoric is simply one of those terms that will remain essentially contested. But I do think that we ought to be able to give an account of how we elect to use the term.
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