Dissonance and Rhetorical Inquiry: A Burkean Model for Critical Reading and Writing
Author(s): Mary M. Salibrici
Source: Journal of Adolescent & Adult Literacy, Vol. 42, No. 8 (May, 1999), pp. 628-637
Published by: Wiley on behalf of the International Reading Association
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MaryM. Salibrici
Dissonance
A
Burkean
and
model
rhetorical
for
critical
inquiry:
reading
and
writing
Kenneth
Burkes
of
concept
commonplaceidea among teachersinterestedin writinginled
to
perspective
byincongruity
structionis the notion that studentsbecome betterreaders
writing(Willinsky,1990) and betterwritersthrough
critical
and
inquiry
deeperreadingthrough
(Qualley, 1993;Smith,1984). In fact, readingand writingactivities
are
increasinglyseen as more centralto the learningpractices
about
the
effectsin content areas
understandings
as well (Ehlinger& Pritchard,1994;Goodson, 1994;
Grant,1993).Additionally,the idea thatreadingand writingshould
oflanguage
inthis
collegebe
"critical"
activitiesthat push studentsbeyond the stage of comand
course.
interpretationto a higherlevel of evaluationor critiwriting prehension
cal consciousnessis a
and
in both
©1999 InternationalReadingAssociation
(pp. 628-637)
628
key concept
theory
practice
(Freire,1973;hooks, 1994;Lewis, 1991;Shor,1980).
Lewis(1991), for example, in callingfor a redefinitionof critical
reading,statedthattraditionaldefinitionsare limitedbecause students are usuallyasked to judge a work and evaluateits relevancy
aftercomprehension,implyingthat comprehensionis a low-level
skill and that criticalthinkingis a postreadingskill.Whilerecognizing the importanceof comprehensionto the practiceof criticalreading, Lewisrecommendedupdatingtraditionaldefinitions"toreflect
the limitationsof languagein capturingmeaningand the complexity
of the comprehensionprocess"(p. 422). CitingEnnis's(1985) discussion of criticalthinking,Lewiscalled for a two-dimensionalprocess
whereby we, first,understandreadingas more than a "black-andwhite"conception of absolutemeaningon the page and second, include in our readingprocess the generationand evaluationof
Journalof Adolescent&AdultLiteracy 42:8 May1999
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"differentpossible interpretations"so that we can
go about deciding what to believe or do with the
ideas in a text (p. 422).
The term critical in most definitions of critical
reading and writing seems to imply the process of
developing ideas over time and in different ways.
Looking closely at development is a logical starting point for any discussion of actual critical practices. Phelps (1990) defined development as
bidirectional change whereby an individual's pattern of activities becomes increasingly complex
over time and "throughwhich autonomous individuals and their products and environments may
become increasingly complex structures, separately and in relationship"(p. 7).
Development is the process by which we become more self-conscious yet more attached to
environmental networks at the same time:
Complexityof patterningrefershere to the way a
mental or culturalstructurebecomes more finely
differentiatedinto new partsand connectionsand
more highly organizedthroughmultiplerelationships.As experiencefeeds informationinto the system, it becomes denser and richer, creating the
need to formnew patternsand transformold ones.
This model of the mind says that learningcreates
border as well as order,stimulatingthe creation
of more powerfulways of containingand controlling the proliferatinginformation.(Phelps,p. 395)
Dissonance plays a significant part in this view of
development. Disorder is not a negative force but
a necessary one if growth is to occur, and ultimately Phelps argued for curricularthinking that
exploits this tension through design and planning.
In fact, she saw that unless conflict and risk become transformingagents for curricularand classroom planning, leading to dynamic colearning and
co-inquiry, nothing will occur but unresponsive,
fossilized activity:
...developmentitself incorporatesa negativeprinciple in thatits impulseto ordermustbe constantly
defeatedif growthis to occur.The internalprinciIn orderto be flexple for changeis disequilibrium.
ible and adaptive,our mentalstatemustbe always
somewhatunfinished,disorderly,with potentialfor
and noveltygenerally,(p. 395)
new arrangements
At first this potential may create great anxiety.
Students do not like to feel confused, and growing
pains as readers and writers can be real. Yet, this
spirit of complexity, as suggested by Phelps's view
of learning development, has the potential to stimulate and deepen students' development as critical
readers and writers through the gradual transformation of their powers of inquiry.
Giroux and McLaren(1989) pushed the notion
of critical even further by advocating an education that "reconstructsschooling as a form of cultural politics" (p. xxii) and enables students to
understand the complex ways gender, race, class,
ethnicity, and age affect our associations of
"habits, relations, meanings, desires, representations, and self-images" (Giroux, 1989, p. 142).
Such a pedagogy calls upon language use as an
activity that willingly acknowledges the "spaces,
tensions, and possibilities for struggle" (Giroux,
1989, p. 134).
When we consider the implications of current
definitions of critical reading and writing in terms
of learning development and actual classroom
practice, therefore, a key question becomes, What
does it mean for students to develop critical reading and writing skills when critical implies an understanding of multiple and even contradictory
events and interpretations?What kind of reading
and writing activities, in other words, will engage
our students beyond the point of simple comprehension and into the realm of the critical?
Building from Phelps's discussion of learning
development as grounded in dissonance, I suggest
that reading and writing activities constructed
around students' ability to become, over time,
rhetorically aware of the complexity of language
will ultimately lead to greater critical thinking in
the sense used by either Lewis or Giroux and,
thus, greater critical reading and writing skills.
Approaching reading and writing activities from a
rhetorical stance allows us to view language both
in terms of production and consumption. On the
one hand, rhetoric allows us to acknowledge how
we as writers manage to develop a text, and on
the other hand, rhetoric allows us to acknowledge
how a text can then be understood and believed
or not by its readers.
Brent's (1992) theory of reading as rhetorical
invention provides the mechanism for either
approach:
Dissonanceandrhetoricalinquiry
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629
For reading is not simply a matterof "takingin"
others' ideas. The bubbling rhetorical stew in
which we are all immersedfrombirthpresentsus
with a mass of opinions about everythingfromthe
ethicality of abortion to the composition of the
moon's core or the price of eggs.... The process
of buildinga set of beliefs aboutourworld,a set of
beliefs thatcombinesmattersof the highestimport
with those of the most total triviality,must involve
decidingwhichof these babblingvoices to believe,
and with what degree of conviction,(p. xii)
Reading is thus an important way of participating
in the larger conversation, the one that prompts
our beliefs in the first place. By considering the influence of rhetoric on our reading practice and in
turn our writing practice, we ultimately position
our beliefs, their origins, and why we hold them.
Building on current conceptions of reading and
writing as social acts, Freedman and Medway
(1994) have also examined such practices through
the lens of genre study to understand pieces of
writing "not just as text types but as typical rhetorical engagements with recurring situations" (p. 3).
They note recent understanding of genre as more
"fluidand dynamic," and that specific genres represent "particularsocial and historical contexts" (p.
3), instead of the traditional emphasis on fixed
forms. Students need to learn formal characteristics of genres, in other words, but within the context of specific social situations; they need to learn
to use "generic resources to act effectively on a
situation through a text" (p. 11).
In connecting this idea of critical reading and
writing as rhetorical with Phelps's idea about the
role of dissonance in learning development and
Giroux's and McLaren'snotions about the importance of investigating cultural politics through critical literacy practices, I draw upon a framework
provided by Burke's (1935/1984) idea of perspective by incongruity. It is to this framework that I
will now turn before providing an example of critical reading and writing as rhetorical inquiry, dissonant development, and cultural politics in actual
classroom practice.
Critical
andBurker$
framework
inquiry
Kenneth Burke was an American social thinker
concerned with coordinating ideas about litera-
630
ture, language, and symbolism throughout a writing career that spanned much of the 20th century.
Not easily categorized, Burke wrote on an eclectic
range of topics, including anthropology, religion,
drama, and history. His body of work is still considered classic in the field of speech communication. Burke saw language as a form of symbolic
action allowing us to communicate, but more than
that, representing (and repressing) what we do
because it identifies our motives. Any kind of interpretation or way of looking at something, according to Burke, was political or "interested."
With the publication of Permanence and
Change (1935/1984) in the middle of the Great
Depression, Burke established a theoretical framework, which he labeled perspective by incongruity, for thinking about how we use language
and the way it represents human motivations and
individual orientations. The way we use language,
our vocabulary, is symbolic of our orientation or
the way we see ourselves and the things in our
world; it helps us make sense of life and represent
ourselves to the world:
We discern situationalpatterns by means of the
particularvocabulary of the culturalgroup into
which we are born. Our minds,as linguisticproducts, are composed of concepts (verballymolded)
which select certainrelationshipsas meaningful.
These relationshipsare not realities,they are interpretationsof realities- hence differentframeworks of interpretationswill lead to different
conclusionsas to what realityis. (p. 35)
Though language distinguishes us as human beings, we do not share the same realities; thus, the
gift of language is mutual yet used differently, and
it is this clash of perspectives that Burke believed
must be attended to if effective communication is
to take place.
Burke believed that we must train ourselves to
think about and be sensitive to the complexities
inherent in what we say. In order to understand
what is going on in the world and within our relationships, we must learn how to juxtapose oppositions that surround us as a permanent part of life.
Perspective by incongruity can be used to sort out
complexity, to understand ambiguity; it is the
"merging of categories once felt to be mutually exclusive" (Burke, 1935/1984, p. 69). Perspective by
incongruity gives us a way to describe what is, but
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it does so by giving us a way to think about what
else might be. Later,in Attitudes Toward History
(1937/1984), Burke called it "metaphoricalextension," a way to interpret
new situationsby removingwords fromtheir"constitutional"setting. It is not "demoralizing,"
howis
since
it
done
the
"transcendence"
of a
ever,
by
new start.It is not negative smuggling, but positive cards-face-up-on-the-table.It is designed to
"remoralize"
by accuratelynaming a situationaldemoralized
ready
by inaccuracy,(p. 309)
Ratherthan language leading to limited prescriptions, miscommunication, and conflict, language
within a framework of perspective by incongruity
can lead to a rich and generative process of figuring out complex meaning.
Burke was enough of a pragmatist, however, to
recognize the power of our individual interpretations of reality. Our individual "pieties"can help
us make sense of things and give us rational systems for coping with the world; they provide us
with "the sense of what properly goes with what"
(1935/1984, p. 74). Such pieties may indeed help
us cope with a complex world, but they may also
deter critical understanding of important social issues. Applying Burke's notion to Giroux's and
McLaren'semphasis on cultural politics, we can
understand how individual pieties may act as
blind spots, perpetuating, for instance, damaging
viewpoints about race and gender and leading to
issues of social injustice.
Confronted with something that goes against
the grain of our pious behavior sometimes creates
discomfort and conflict, but conversions to new
ideas are possible if rationalization is used carefully to construct new possibilities:
...any way of puttingthe charactersof events together is an attemptto convertpeople, regardless
of whether it go by the name of religion, psychotherapy,or science. It is impious,by our definition, insofar as it attacks the kinds of linkage
alreadyestablished.It attempts,by rationalization,
to alterthe natureof our responses.(Burke,1935/
1984,p. 87)
Perspective by incongruity is much like a philosophy of survival for a modern world where communication is complicated by science and
technology. It has become more difficult to talk
and to understand with increasing specializations
of thought; nevertheless, Burke called for a
method of communication that will enable us to
cross unfamiliar boundaries and speak to that
complexity. Perspective by incongruity helps us to
avoid oversimplification and uninformed analogical extension, to break down the barriers in language that keep us ignorant and preoccupied with
our own interests. This approach provides a way
to live in a world where an "incongruous assortment of incongruities" (p. 122) surrounds us,
which we might yet make use of in a creative and
limitless fashion.
For Burke, perspective by incongruity offers a
rebirth of our imaginative potential as human beings. As we design our teaching practices for reading and writing, keeping Burke's framework in
mind, we might think of language activities as
paths to inquiry providing more potential for students to become critical thinkers, readers, and
writers. Such a framework in current classrooms
might indeed help us critically examine the limitations represented in all language use. Our individual interpretations of reality- for instance, the
various individual pieties we hear expressed today- may provide a focus for questions about social differences and injustices. Students might well
ask what constituency is represented by a text and
why, and what constituency is left out and why.
Burke may not have considered issues of racial
and gender discrimination in 1935, but his perspective by incongruity still provides a lens
through which we may do so. We must ask, then,
what might such a Burkean classroom, informed
through perspective by incongruity, look like?
Creating the space and opportunity for many
perspectives represented by individual students to
be constructed, communicated, and heard would
be a significant primary element of such a classroom. Several strategies already located within
learner-centered teaching come to mind here:
reading and dialogue journals, freewrites with voluntary sharing, and open discussions about common readings. For Burke's perspective by
incongruity to work, however, the teacher must
play a pivotal role in selecting and then sequencing common reading and writing assignments
around a particulartopic of inquiry that is relevant
by content area and age level.
Dissonanceandrhetoricalinquiry
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631
The issue of selection and sequencingis central
in such a classroom,for it will be in the gradual
yet deliberateunfoldingof multipleand conflicting ideas that studentsundertakean examination
of an issue throughperspectiveby incongruity.
For such an undertakingto succeed within this
framework,studentsshould become graduallyyet
acutelyaware of the subtle and often dramatic
rhetoricalchoices made by writers,which in turn
affectthem as readers.
Finally,students'exposureto such rhetorical
choices ultimatelyresultsin an understandingof
the complexways thatlanguageworks in their
own lives as readersand writers,one thatcan then
be appliedto a varietyof otheracademicand
nonacademicreadingand writingtasks.Through
Burke'sconcept of "metaphorical
extension,"the
with
all
its discomforts
learningexperienceitself,
becomes a metaphor
and apparentcontradictions,
for what it meansto develop criticalconsciousness.
andthe
Perspective
byincongruity
Rotenber?ca$e
A writingcourse that I designed for college
sophomores,with a 7-week criticalinquiryunit on
the 1953 Rosenbergtrial,illustratesmy argument
about the value of connectingdissonancewithin
learningdevelopmentto rhetoricalinquiry
throughperspectiveby incongruity.I would further claimthat such a course, while clearlyappropriatefor high school and college-levelwriting
students,could also be translatedinto readingand
writingunits for specific content areas,such as social studies or science. In fact, there were times in
the course of our unit when my studentsand I
wonderedwhat the distinctionwas between our
study of writingor our study of the Rosenbergs'
historyand U.S. social issues of the 1950s or our
study of the technology of the atomicbomb.
Of course, my choice of a unit pertainingto the
Rosenbergsarisesin the firstplace out of my own
interestin the 1950s and the historyof the Red
scare in America.I had completed some extensive
readingabout the case long before I designed the
unit and was particularlyinterestedin how the
Rosenbergs'storyopened itself to multiplepolitical interpretations.I had participatedin antiwar
demonstrationsduringmy college years in the
632
1960s and had deepened my awarenessof gender
discriminationin the early 1970swith the second
wave of feminism.These experiencesled me to
some naturalsuspicionsabout the government's
role as well as sympatheticleaningstowardEthel
Rosenberg'ssituation,because it appearedto me
that she was a pawn in the case fromeitherthe
U.S. government'sor the CommunistParty's
perspective.
The serious underpinningsof the case, culminatingin the double execution of these parentsof
two young boys in 1953,provideswhat I consider
to be a dramaticspringboardinto interestand motivationon the partof my students,most of whom
have never heard of the Rosenbergswhen we
begin. Even if they have not heardof the
Rosenbergs,however,I understandfromreading
Burkethatthey will probablyenterthe classroom
with perspectivesabout the death penalty,treason, gender issues, the U.S. militaryand government, and communismin general.The careful
sequencingof readingand writingassignments
mightteach them somethingimportantabout how
they come to those perspectivesand, in turn,
somethingimportantabout the complexityof language, issues of culturalpolitics,and the natureof
criticalthought.Studyingthe Rosenbergsthrough
a varietyof readingand writingactivities,in other
words, becomes a metaphorfor the way rhetoric
and dissonanceplay a role in theirdevelopment
as learnersand criticalthinkers.
theunit
Be?innin?
I purposelyset out portionsof articlesand chapters of books in such a way thatstudentsare introducedincrementallyto the dramaticelements
of the Rosenbergs'storyand in such a way thatI
can deliberatelyacquaintthem with the many differentapproachesthatvariouswritersfromdifferent backgroundsand disciplineshave taken
towardthe case. As we move throughthe readings, studentsbecome awareof the issue's complexity;it is not a simple case of guilt or
and uninnocence. Students'initialstraightforward
criticalreactionto the Rosenbergs'storybecomes
complicatedwith each readingthey do, and this
complexityis then reflectedin the intellectual
growthI see representedin the contentof their
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class discussions, informal reading journal entries,
and formal writing assignments.
The first reading in the unit sets the tone and
the direction we will follow. I choose several excerpts from Louis Nizer's bestseller on the case,
TheImplosion Conspiracy (1973) because, while
written by a lawyer, the book reads like a
Hollywood script. The selections I choose give
students biographical background on both Julius
and Ethel Rosenberg as very poor, Jewish kids
from inner-city New York and then skip to the
gruesome scene of their electrocutions in 1953.
Thus, students are introduced to the dramatic
framework of the case: two poor Jewish parents,
accused of conspiring to commit espionage, are
found guilty of the charge and executed, leaving
behind two small children. Nizer is no sympathizer to their cause, but he writes with dramatic emotion about the case.
In our first sharing of reading journal entries,
students respond with similar emotion, with rarely
a neutral observer and never a question about
Nizer's possible manipulation of language.
Instead, they become caught up in a lively argument about whether the Rosenbergs deserved the
death penalty and why they were sentenced to
death in the first place, with conservatives arguing
that they got a just punishment because they were
found guilty and liberals arguing that a guilty verdict did not justify the government's actions. Many
students, even those who believe the Rosenbergs
to be guilty, are quite distressed over what actually happened to them and feel great emotional
sympathy for their lawyer, Manny Bloch, as he
races back and forth between the prison and the
Supreme Court trying to get a stay of execution. In
fact, it is almost impossible for students to react in
any way but emotionally because of Nizer's language. For example, here is Nizer on Ethel's
preparation for death:
UnlikeJulius, she was composed. Her controlled
serenity created a heroic impression. She had a
Mona Lisasmile, but with an edge of bitterness,
and looked every witness in the eye. Some could
not returnher gaze.... She turnedand placed herself in the chair,refusing any helping hand, and
watched the guardstrapher in as if it was an inconsequential act on an airplane. (Nizer, 1973,
p. 481)
My experience is that students inevitably respond
emotionally to such writing because of the
strength of the dramatic rhetoric. But, of course,
my deliberate strategy in selecting and sequencing
readings this way depends on the fact that this is
exactly how I hope they will react.
Before we finish our class discussion on Nizer's
writing, I bring up Nizer's own background and
ask students pointedly about his objectivity in the
case. Many of them respond that his interest is in
conveying the facts from his perspective as a
lawyer. They often point me to a passage where
Nizer's words seem to confirm their opinion:
I had no difficultybeing objective. I had nothing
to overcome. I startedwith a clean slate;no prior
convictions, no desire to demonstrateguilt or innocence. I let my thorough research carry me
where it would. Thereis no stuffedballotbox. The
readerwill have an opportunityto judge for himself, in accordancewith the guidelinesI have indicated, (p. 9)
"See,"my students explain. "Youcan tell that
Nizer was simply giving us the facts from an objective point of view." What I might have called a
teachable moment, I now decide to rechristen a
"Burkeanmoment," as I ask them to look again at
Nizer's introduction and reread the following
passage:
When I was invited by Otto Premingerto write a
motion picturescriptof the Rosenbergspy trial,I
declined without hesitation.His continuedimportunitiesresultedonly in repeated demurrers....
But when Preminger'sinsistence and allurements
had overcome me, and I shall not describe how,
for fearthatthey will revealmy weakness and also
depict his skills of persuasion,which will detract
frommy own, I set myselfa special task.I was going to know as muchaboutthe Rosenbergsand the
trial as was humanly possible to know, without
havingdefended or prosecutedthem. (p. 2)
So what, I ask them, had been Nizer's initial motivation for writing about the trial?What do they
suppose he means by Preminger's "skills of persuasion"?What finally induced Nizer to complete
the project?Given that his book became a bestseller and was originally conceived of as a movie
script, it begins to dawn on students that at least
part of Nizer's motivation may have had to do
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633
with money. Then we look more closely at his use
of specific kinds of languageto describethe case.
How would you describehis style, I ask them.
... "emotional."
"Intense"... "dramatic"
Thus,we arriveat our firstrhetoricalincongruity.They had begun the class discussioncompelled by Nizer'swritingto feel one way or
anotherabout the case itself.They were either
convincedthatthe Rosenbergsdeservedto die, or
they felt angryat the governmentover the nature
of the execution. Now they are thinkingabout
Nizer'swritingitself. How did it cause them to react?Whatabout Nizer'smotivation?Couldit have
somethingto do with his languagechoices?He
claimsobjectivityand often writes in a seemingly
factualstyle, but does his frequentuse of emotional languageseem to contradictthat position?One
studentpoints us to anotherpassage where Nizer
explainsthe depth of his research,as he searches
for "everyperson I could find who touched their
lives or deaths, as if I were a reporteron a Pulitzer
Prizemission"(p. 4). "Hegives himselfaway right
there,"says the student."Heclearlyhopes to be
writinga bestseller."Soon the entire argument
about the Rosenbergs'guilt disappearsunder the
weight of the question about Nizer'sobjectivity.
The focus is now on whether anyone can be as
objectiveas Nizerclaimsto be.
By the end of class, studentsare interrogating
Nizer'sintegrityand wonderinghow theiroriginal
perspectivescould have arisenfrom such obvious
manipulation.Studentsare not inclinedto quickly
reversetheiroriginalreactionsto the case, but
theirviews are becoming complicated.We begin
to talk about the rhetoricalconstraintsoperating
within Nizer'schoice of the bestsellinggenre.
Afterall, he wanted to draw attentionto the case
from a wide and generalaudience and for a particularpurpose. He was not sympatheticto the
Rosenbergs'position of innocence, though he
wanted to convey a certainamountof humanempathyfor what happened to them and to do so in
a way thatwould clearlysell books. We have thus
arrivedat a startingpoint for perspectiveby incongruity:How will we make sense of this case
and understandwhat actuallyhappened if it is
possible that authors'rhetoricalchoices, operating
fromwithin a dense arrayof social and political
influences,continueto complicateand confuse
634
our pictureof it?And this question,of course,
takes the rest of the unit to answer.
fTlore
perspectives
For severalweeks the unit unfoldswith additional
readings,deliberatelystaged so thatthe pieces of
the Rosenbergcase fall into place at the same time
that studentsare exposed to differentrhetorical
choices, generic structures,and correspondingsocial and politicalinfluencesfroma varietyof writers. They learn how the Rosenbergswere
eventuallyarrested,they learnabout the trialitself,
they learn about the reactionsof the Rosenbergs'
sons to the case, they learn about the the Fifth
CircuitCourtof Appeals'decision, and they learn
how novelistsrepresentedthe case manyyears after it was over. Eachreadinggives studentsmore
informationbut from differentperspectives.
Studentslearn about Ethelfrom a feministperspective. Genderissues become quite complex as
students'understandingof the case unfolds.For
example, Ethelwas portrayedthroughoutthe trial
as exertinga Svengali-likeinfluenceover her husband,Julius,a female role largelycondemnedin
the 1950s U.S., particularlyby President
Eisenhowerwho ultimatelyclaimedpubliclythat
Ethelwas largelyresponsiblefor the entireconspiracybecause of the way she dominatedher
husband.The communists,on the other hand,
were adept at portrayingEthelas an innocent
housewife, brutallyarrestedby the government
when no evidence implicatedher in orderto push
Juliustowardconfession. Beforeher arrest,Ethel
also agreed to pose for newspaperphotographs
holding a dish towel at her kitchensink, in hopes
that popularopinion would be swayed to believing in her innocence. Whichimage is the real
Ethel?Studentsneed to become carefuland critical
readersin orderto make sense of such questions.
They need to unpack a writer'srhetoricaland
generic choices to understandwhat is being said,
to whom, and at what cost.
As the unit continues,studentslearnmore about
the arrestand the trialfroman AmericanLeftperspective.They read actualnews coveragefrom
Timemagazine,TheNew YorkTimes,and the communistpaper, TheDaily Worker.
They readwhat
liberals,conservatives,communists,and actual
familymembershave to say. They studythe details
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of editorialsand "factual"
newspaperreports,
sometimesfindingdifferencesin the languagebut
justas often findingsimilarities.Quite often they
become curiousenough to make phone calls to
familymembers,wonderingaboutwhat parentsor
grandparentsmay rememberof the case.
Occasionallystudentslearnthattheirrelativesrallied in TimesSquareto supportthe Rosenbergs'innocence. Moreimportant,studentsslowly begin to
discoverthateven in a so-calledobjective,concreteversionof the story,there is a bias, an interpretation,a theoreticalpositionto be found.
Studentsdo become confused and disconcerted. Languageis not supposed to be this complicated or ambiguous;they want to know the truth,
any truth,and they want me to tell them. Yet with
each reading,new questionsare posed, new possibilitiesuncovered.The only reassurancethey
find comes fromfurtherstudy,furtherreading,
more talkingand thinkingand writing.In their
readingjournals,they leave me passages like the
I thinkwith each new
following:"Unfortunately,
I become"or "I'mbemore
confused
the
article,
ginningto get a littlefrustratedbecause I keep
changingmy mind."
By the end of the unit when a formalanalytical
argumentis called for on some aspect of the way
languageoperatesin the case, they are clearlynot
as naive as when they started.They trustneithera
single readingnor a simple readinganymore.The
interplayof deliberatelysequenced readings,journal responses,and class discussionhelps students
make informedand investedwritingchoices for
the final assignment.
One student,Steve (not his real name), has, by
the time of the final paper,triedto find a way out
of a reductionistkind of either/orthinkingabout
the case. Earlyon he had come to the conclusion
thatthe Rosenbergshad conspiredto steal the secret of the atomicbomb, but he is equallytroubled by the actionsof the U.S. government.He
makesthe following complex claim:
While I believe thatJulius Rosenbergwas in fact
guiltyof those crimeswith which he was charged
and ultimatelyconvicted,the prosecution"proved"
his guilt, and that of his wife Ethel, not so much
throughthe truthfulevidence they had, but largely
throughflawed and manufacturedevidence, thus
violatingtheirconstitutionalrights.
The success of Steve'spaper comes not because
he agrees or disagreeswith a particularway of
looking at the Rosenbergcase but because his
work representsan abilityto do criticalinquiry,to
read and explore many perspectivesbefore arriving at a position and then to be able to articulate
his conclusionwith some complexity.It seems to
me that he now understandssomethingabout the
ambiguityof languageand truth.
ofmeanin?
Structures
Throughoutthis unit on the Rosenbergcase, my
studentsare confrontedwith a series of dramatic
reversals.Justwhen they have one readingand
one perspectivefiguredout, they are stimulatedin
a differentdirectionby anotherone. They become
sensitizedto what Burke,in A Rhetoricof Motives
(1950/1969),calls "therange of rhetoric."They
learnthatwe can use words to protectourselves,
to orientourselves,and even to deceive ourselves.
Throughan exposure to so many apparentlyconvincing and rationallywrittenperspectiveson the
Rosenbergs,they learnthat one person'sway of
identifyingthe case is not another'sand that one
way of viewing the case may actuallyblind them
to importantfacts about what happened. It is their
task to sort throughthis complex arrayof materials and figureout theirown position. In fact, they
actuallyapply Burke'sfollowing contentionto the
work they do:
...one can systematically extend the range of
rhetoric,if one studies the persuasivenessof false
or inadequatetermswhich may not be directlyimposed upon us from without by some skillful
speaker,but which we impose upon ourselves,in
varying degrees of deliberateness and unawareness, through motives indeterminately selfprotectiveand/or suicidal.(1950/1969,p. 35)
Studentscan thus become more carefuland
criticalreadersand writersas they learnto think
more deeply about the rhetoricaleffects of language. In addition,they learnto juxtaposethe effect of a particulartext with the experiencesthey
themselvesbringto reading.Formany students
this means paringdown theiridentificationswith
specific politicalor social issues from theirown
backgroundsin orderto do justiceto a complex
understandingof the case. My deliberatestaging
Dissonanceandrhetoricalinquiry
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635
of such a readingand writingexperience is the
instigatorof this enactmentof criticalinquiry.
Studyingthe Rosenbergcase becomes a rich and
generativemetaphorfor how to do criticalinquiry
via the frameworkof perspectiveby incongruity.
Coe (1987) echoes Burkewhen he suggests that
rhetoricalstructures"are...the social memoryof
standardresponses to particulartypes of rhetorical
situationsand subjectmatter"(p. 19). Discourse
communitiescan functionto provide and even
prescribepreferredlanguageformsfor theirmemberships,and recognizingthe importanceof conventionalformsis "animportantaspect of
reading"(p. 19). Yet form, as a culturalphenomenon, is never neutral:"aform may be generative
insofaras it motivatesa searchfor more information; but any form also biases the directionof the
searchingand constrainsagainstthe discoveryof
informationthat does not fit the form"(p. 20).
Studentsseem to understandthis idea of rhetorical
structuresthroughtheirstudy of the Rosenberg
case. They at once rely on theirconventionalunderstandingsof form (for example, what it takes
to write a bestseller)at the same time thatthey
begin to considerits organic,flexible, and especiallyculturaland politicalnature.
Studentsinvestigatingwhat happened in the
Rosenbergcase, therefore,begin to develop a set
of useful questionsabout the natureand influence
of rhetoricalstructures,questionsalso encountered in Coe (1994), including,what purposes
does this genre serve, how is it adaptedto its particularreaders,and how is it appropriateto its
context of situation(p. 161). As studentstry to decipherthrougha diverseset of readingswhat was
reallygoing on in 1953 when the Rosenbergs
faced execution, they learn an importantlesson:
"thatgenres are sociallyreal and thatto participate
effectivelyin a discoursecommunityone usually
must adaptto (or around)readers'generic expectations"(p. 165).
Studentsbecome exposed to the possibilityof
seeing languageitself as an active participantin
theirconstructionof knowledge. Theirframeof
referencefor understandingthe power and complexity of languageis expanded, even if theirindividual pieties are not completelyaltered.Jake (a
pseudonym),for instance,remainedadamantthat
the Rosenbergs'actionswere treasonousand that
they were guilty.But this fixed notion, admittedly
636
influencedby certainof Jake'sconservativeleanings, becomes less firmlysituated,less simplistic.
His earlynotions evolve into somethingmore
complex, and in a final self-assessmentfor the
unit, he commentsabout factorsthatinfluencehis
own abilityto "read"the Rosenbergcase:
Without any previous knowledge about the
Rosenberg trial, upon knowing that the United
States Federal Courtfound them guilty, I would
have no problem with my country'sdecision because of the rhetoricalcontext that governs the
way I see and thinkaboutthe Rosenbergcase. . . .
My father'soccupation (as a police sergeant)has
had the biggest effect on my own personalviews
about the society that I live in.... I had a pretty
strong feeling before even reading the excerpts
concerningthe trialthatJuliusand EthelRosenberg
were guilty.
Interestingly,thoughJake appearsfirmin his convictionaboutthe Rosenbergs'guilt,he furtheradmitsthathe no longerbelieves they deservedthe
death penaltybecause of the government'sinvolvementin concoctinga case againstEthel.What
seems to have emergedfor him is a strongersense
of ambiguity,thatthingsare not necessarilywhat
they appearto be at the surfacelevel. I would argue thatJake is more criticallyattunedto the complex and rhetoricalnatureof language,that
decisionsaboutwhat to say and how to say it are
specificchoices made withinspecificsituations.
Burkesaid that "onlythose voices fromwithout
are effectivewhich can speak in the languageof
the voice within"(1950/1969,p. 39). In my class,
throughthe strategiesI have described,I ask my
studentsto firstreactpersonallyto readingsin
ways they are comfortablewith because they are
tuned to thatvoice within,but inevitablyI challenge them furtherto respondto a largerrangeof
voices because I believe thatis how criticalinquiryin the classroomsettingwill begin to operate. In the end, they may still be tuned in most
stronglyto theirprimaryidentificationsand terms.
Individualpieties, afterall, are difficultto part
with. However,identificationshave now been
complicatedby a way of thinkingthatextends the
range of students'ideas about languagepossibilities. The studentslearnto wranglewith rhetoric;
or, as Burke(1950/1969)said, when we internalize a varietyof motives,we get
Journalof Adolescent&AdultLiteracy 42:8 May1999
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a parliamentary
wranglewhich the individualhas
as he putstogetherhis fears
somewhat
put together
and hopes, friendshipsand enmities, health and
disease, or those tiny rebirthswhereby, in being
bornto some new condition,he may be dyingto a
past condition,his developmentbeing dialectical,
a seriesof termsin perpetualtransformation,
(p. 38)
It is perspective by incongruity through carefully
designed reading and writing activities that leads
to critical inquiry; it is the dissonant note that
leads to intellectual growth.
teachesinthe Schoolof Education
at
Saflbrici
Hall,
SyracuseUniversity
(200 Huntington
Syracuse,MY13244-2340,USA).
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