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Contents vii

3 Style, Delivery, and Rhetorical Theory 57


The Second Sophistic 58
What Is the Sublime? 59
Sources of the Sublime 60
Christianization of Rhetoric 63
Discovering the Truth in Scripture 65
Preaching 66
Rhetoric in the Middle Ages 68
History 68
Medieval Arts 69
Humanism and Rhetorical Education 70
Belletristic Movement 72
Taste 74
Language 75
Style 76
Eloquence 78
Criticism 79
Elocutionary Movement 80
Natural versus Mechanical Elocution 80
Sheridan’s Theory of Elocution 81
■ SUMMARIZING STYLE, DELIVERY, AND RHETORICAL THEORY 83
■ DISCUSSION QUESTIONS 85
■ GLOSSARY TERMS 85

4 Rhetoric, Science, and Argumentation 87


The Epistemologists 88
Scientific and Philosophic Discoveries 88
Relationship to the Belletristic and
Elocutionary Movements 89
Psychology and Rhetoric 89
Major Contributions to Rhetorical Theory 90
Shaping a “New Rhetoric” 91
Defining Rhetoric 92
The Role of Invention 95
Rhetoric and Argumentation 96
Richard Whately 97
Presumption and Burden of Proof 98
Refutation 99
Rhetorical Approaches to Argumentation 100
The Layout of Arguments 100
Substantive Arguments 103
Authoritative Arguments 106
Motivational Arguments 107
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viii Contents

Chaïm Perelman’s “New Rhetoric” 108


■ SUMMARIZING RHETORIC, SCIENCE, AND ARGUMENTATION 109
■ DISCUSSION QUESTIONS 110
■ GLOSSARY TERMS 111

5 Rhetoric and Media 113


Media Impact on Rhetoric 114
Defining Media 115
Overview of Technology as
New Forms of Communicating 116
Oral Communication 117
Writing and Printing 117
Photography and Film 118
Radio and Television 118
The Internet 119
Media Research and Rhetoric 119
Electronic Eloquence 120
Personalization 121
Self-Disclosure 122
Conversational Tone 123
Verbal Distillation 123
Visual Dramatization 124
Semiotics 126
Visual Images and Rhetoric 129
Roland Barthes 129
Paul Messaris 131
Visual Arguments 133
■ SUMMARIZING RHETORICAL THEORY AND MEDIA 134
■ DISCUSSION QUESTIONS 136
■ GLOSSARY TERMS 136

PART III
Linguistic Reflexivity

6 Rhetoric and Meaning 141


The Cultural Milieu 142
Linguistic Reflexivity 143
Meaning 145
The Semantic Triangle 146
The Role of Context in Meaning 148
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Contents ix

Avoiding Misunderstanding: General Semantics 149


Negative Premises 150
Maps 151
Extensional Devices 151
The Mind, Self, and Society 153
Mind 154
Self 155
Society 156
Broadening Conceptions of Meaning 156
Discursive and Presentational Rhetoric 156
Rhetoric and Oppression 158
Muted Group Theory 159
The Rhetoric of Childbirth 160
Sexual Harassment 160
Weaver: Meaning and Values 162
Dialectic and Rhetoric 162
Rhetoric and Knowledge 163
Types of Argument 164
Ultimate Terms 165
Rhetoric as Epistemic 166
■ SUMMARIZING RHETORIC AND MEANING 168
■ DISCUSSION QUESTIONS 169
■ GLOSSARY TERMS 170

7 Dramatism 171
The Nature of Rhetoric 173
Symbol Use 174
Negative Symbols 175
Hierarchy 176
Perfection 177
Action and Motion 177
Identification 178
Rhetoric as Identification 179
Types of Identification 180
Framing Symbolic Experiences: The Pentad 180
Elements of the Pentad 181
Ratios 182
Applying the Pentad to Rhetoric 183
Redemption from Guilt 184
Tragic Redemption 184
An Example of Tragic Redemption 185
Comic Enlightenment 186
An Example of Comic Redemption 188
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x Contents

Narrative 189
Understanding the Narrative Paradigm 190
Symbolic Convergence Theory 193
Understanding Symbolic Convergence Theory 193
Applying Symbolic Convergence Theory 194
■ SUMMARIZING DRAMATISTIC THEORY 196
■ DISCUSSION QUESTIONS 197
■ GLOSSARY TERMS 197

PART IV
Rhetoric, Culture, and Power

8 Feminist Rhetorical Theories 201


Defining Sex, Gender, and Feminism 202
Sex and Gender 202
Feminism 204
A Short History of Women’s Rights Movements in the U.S. 204
First Wave Feminism 205
Second Wave Feminism 206
Third Wave Feminism 208
Classifying Feminist Rhetoric 210
Inclusion 210
Reconceptualizing 211
Gender Diversity 212
Oppression and Liberation 212
The Public Rhetoric of Women 212
The Private Rhetoric of Women 215
Campbell and the Women’s Liberation Movement 216
The Womanization of Rhetoric 218
Invitational Rhetoric 220
Defining Invitational Rhetoric 220
An Example of Invitational Rhetoric 221
Feminine Style 222
Gender Diversity Perspective 224
Rhetoric and Oppression/Liberation 227
Foreground 227
Background 229
■ SUMMARIZING FEMINIST RHETORICAL THEORIES 232
■ DISCUSSION QUESTIONS 233
■ GLOSSARY TERMS 233
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Contents xi

9 Alternative Rhetorical Theories 235


Culture-Centered Rhetorical Theory 236
Defining Culture 236
Rhetoric and Culture 237
Culture-Centered Criticism 238
Afrocentric Rhetorical Theories 238
Defining Rhetoric 239
Theorizing African Rhetoric 239
A Model of African Rhetoric 243
Components 245
Chinese Theories of Rhetoric 250
Chinese History and Culture 250
Defining Rhetoric 252
Major Theorists and Schools of Thought 255
Key Concepts in Chinese Rhetoric 256
Intersectionality and Rhetoric 258
■ SUMMARIZING ALTERNATIVE RHETORICAL THEORIES 260
■ DISCUSSION QUESTIONS 261
■ GLOSSARY TERMS 262

10 Critical Approaches to Rhetoric 263


Shifting Emphases in Rhetorical Theory 264
Cultural Influences and the Development of
Critical Theory 266
Rhetoric and Marxism 267
Revising Marxist Theory 270
Critical Theory and Power 271
Knowledge, Rhetoric, and Power 271
Discursive Formations 272
Development of Discursive Formations 274
Application 277
Ideology 278
Critical Theory, Ideology, and Rhetoric 280
Ideographs 281
Critical Rhetoric 282
Defining Critical Rhetoric 282
Theoretical Aspects of Critical Rhetoric 283
Critical Rhetoric in Practice 284
Critical Rhetoric: An Example 285
Critical Approaches to Rhetorical Theory 286
The Critical Character 286
Critical Methodology 286
Concern with Power 287
Critical Intervention 288
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xii Contents

■ SUMMARIZING CRITICAL APPROACHES TO RHETORIC 289


■ DISCUSSION QUESTIONS 289
■ GLOSSARY TERMS 290

11 Cultural Rhetorical Studies 291


Intersections of Critical Theory and Cultural Studies 292
What Is Cultural Studies? 293
Representation and Signification 295
Representation 295
Signification 297
Identity, Ethnicity, Class, and Gender 300
Articulation 301
Active Audiences 302
Encoding/Decoding 303
Subject Positions 305
Summarizing Cultural Studies 307
Relationship between Cultural Studies and
Rhetorical Studies 308
Similarities 309
Differences 309
Merging Cultural Studies and Rhetorical Studies 310
Textuality 310
Using Both Rhetorical and Cultural Studies 311
■ SUMMARIZING CULTURAL RHETORICAL STUDIES 314
■ DISCUSSION QUESTIONS 315
■ GLOSSARY TERMS 316

12 Postmodern Approaches to Rhetoric 317


What Is Postmodernism? 318
Postmodernism and Rhetoric 322
Oversaturation of Media and Consumer Culture 323
Reality 325
Identity as Fragmented Subjectivities 328
Politics 331
Rethinking Rhetoric in the Postmodern Age 333
Postcolonial Theory 334
The Future of Rhetorical Theory 335
■ SUMMARIZING POSTMODERN APPROACHES TO RHETORIC 337
■ DISCUSSION QUESTIONS 338
■ GLOSSARY TERMS 339

References 341
Index 353
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Preface

Each of us has the need to make sense of our world, make decisions, and
learn who we are. Rhetorical theorists have provided a comprehensive account
of how individuals fulfill each of these needs. Rhetorical Theory: An Introduc-
tion, Second Edition, brings their theoretical insights to undergraduate readers.

■ GOALS
Rhetorical Theory: An Introduction, Second Edition, provides a succinct,
accessible account of rhetorical theory for advanced undergraduate students.
Current in its theory and practical in its approach, the book encourages stu-
dents to make sense of their personal, professional, and civic worlds. The book
is organized around the key topics of rhetorical theory and includes a variety of
perspectives about rhetoric. Students will learn how to become more effective
communicators, but they will also be able to evaluate the effectiveness and
implication of the rhetoric that surrounds them.

■ TOPICAL R ATHER THAN CHRONOLOGICAL ORGANIZATION


The theories of rhetoric are often presented in chronological format. That
is, students usually follow the history of rhetoric from its beginnings in ancient
Greece to its contemporary practice in Europe and the United States. When
rhetorical theory is presented this way, the similarities and differences between
different ways of thinking about rhetoric are not readily apparent.
This book takes a topical, rather than chronological, approach to rhetorical
theory. Similar theories are grouped together in chapters that focus on related
concepts and topics. Although subsequent chapters may cover the same time
period, theorists are grouped according to their central purpose or argument.
The result is that students are better able to track the central ideas in rhetorical
theory instead of being overwhelmed by a series of theorists that have nothing

xiii
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xiv Preface

in common but the time period in which they wrote. This approach will enable
students to more easily grasp important issues and concepts.

■ FOCUS ON UNDERGRADUATE STUDENTS


The study of rhetoric has become so specialized that an entire course can be
devoted to particular areas of study, such as classical rhetoric, feminist rhetoric,
or cultural studies. The typical undergraduate student today does not need the
depth of these specializations. Instead, undergraduate students need a broad
exposure to rhetorical theory without being overwhelmed by names, dates, and
technical language. Students today also need to see how theory relates to their
daily existence.
Rhetorical Theory: An Introduction, Second Edition, is designed to meet the
needs of undergraduate students. It covers the history and essential topics of rhe-
torical theory, including examination of the most complex theories. Most impor-
tant, the text provides sufficient context so that the student understands why
theories have been created and how they relate to the real world and other ideas.
Additionally, this book uses the voice that we use in the classroom. The
writing style engages the students without becoming overly technical. Examples
have been carefully chosen to provide a wide variety of meaningful demonstra-
tions of rhetorical analysis that are closely related to the text’s discussion. Over-
all, the coverage is succinct, conceptual, practical, and aimed at upper-division
undergraduate students.

■ VARIETY OF PERSPECTIVES
This book provides a broad overview of the field of rhetoric. From ancient
Greece to postmodernism, the book surveys how rhetoric has evolved. In addition
to discussing classical theories, the book adds contemporary approaches to rheto-
ric as expressed through critical studies, cultural studies, and postmodernism.
The book broadens its coverage with chapters on gendered rhetoric and alterna-
tive rhetorical theories such as Afrocentricity. As a result, students see an inclu-
sive account of how people in a variety of cultures across the centuries have used
rhetoric as an instrument, as a medium of power, and as a way of creating identity.

■ ENGAGING PEDAGOGY
Textbooks on rhetorical theory too often lack the pedagogical and editorial
features that students and instructors have come to expect. In this book, pic-
tures serve to reinforce the text’s content. Discussion questions, glossary terms,
and chapter summaries help students learn the material. Additionally, chapters
provide the following items: a Biography of a Theorist, which portrays one of
theorists discussed in the chapter; a Critical Insights feature, which applies the-
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Preface xv

ory to practice; and an Internet Exercise to help students extend their learning
to new contexts.

■ SECOND EDITION UPDATES


The following changes are found in the second edition:
• Expanded coverage of alternative rhetorical theories such as Afrocentric-
ity and Chinese rhetoric. These approaches are contextualized in a new
way and include up-to-date research from the leading scholars in the field.
A new section on Intersectionality complements the chapter and provides
students with yet another framework for understanding rhetoric.
• More comprehensive coverage of postcolonialism is included in the post-
modern chapter. This section extends the discussion of power and rhetoric,
reinforces the idea that rhetorical theory is increasingly interdisciplinary,
and provides another account of how theorists are seeking to be inclusive
in their coverage of rhetoric.
• Several chapters have been reordered to better reinforce the structure of
the book. The chapter on media comes much sooner in the book as a pre-
cursor to the chapters that follow on meaning and dramatism. The critical
rhetoric chapter is moved to later in the book and prior to discussion of
cultural theory and postmodernism. These changes provide a more accu-
rate conceptual view of the evolution of rhetoric.
• Examples and research have been updated throughout the book to reflect
contemporary examples from student experiences.

■ INSTRUCTOR AND STUDENT SUPPLEMENTS


An Instructor’s Manual is available for this book that includes test questions
(multiple choice, true/false, and essay), activity suggestions, a sample syllabus,
chapter outlines, and video materials.

■ ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
We are indebted to our colleagues, students, mentors, friends, and family
for their support, encouragement, and insight. We are thankful for the support
of Waveland Press and Neil Rowe, who has been unwavering in his support of
this project. Additionally, we are genuinely appreciative of Waveland Press edi-
tor Carrie Campbell for her careful edits, thoughtful suggestions, and attention
to detail.
A great deal of credit goes to the reviewers of the first edition, including
Bernardo Attias, California State University Northridge; James A. Aune, Texas
A&M University; Stephen H. Browne, Pennsylvania State University; Beth M.
Borchers-Hundley 2E.book Page xvi Thursday, March 8, 2018 10:03 AM

xvi Preface

Waggenspack, Virginia Polytechnic Institute and State University; and David E.


Williams, Texas Tech University. Their praise encouraged Tim, and their criti-
cism sharpened the analysis and coverage of the book. He thanks them for their
perceptive and thorough comments. In particular, Tim is indebted to Rita
Rahoi-Gilchrest, Winona State University, and Matthew Sobnosky, Hofstra Uni-
versity, for their detailed critique.
Tim wishes to acknowledge the support of his family, Susanne Williams and
Oliver Borchers-Williams. They have been a constant source of support, encour-
agement, and inspiration. Tim is also appreciative of current and past colleagues
who have informed and challenged his thinking about rhetoric and have sup-
ported this project. Finally, Tim extends his gratitude to Heather Hundley for the
improvements she has brought to the original edition.
Heather appreciates everything her husband, Alan Briggs, has done to sup-
port and encourage her scholarship—from ensuring she is properly nourished
and well-caffeinated, to sharing ideas and listening while Heather needs to talk
out her concerns. While contributing to this edition, Alan has always been a
staunch advocate. She also expresses admiration to her colleagues (current and
past), friends and mentors in the field, as well as her students. In many ways,
they have aided in her thinking and perspectives of rhetoric. Heather would be
remiss to not thank Tim Borchers for his openness and willingness to take a
chance on her. She is particularly appreciative of his trust and confidence in her.
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PART I
The Nature
of Rhetoric
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1
Defining Rhetoric
and Rhetorical Theory

LEARNING OBJECTIVES
After reading this chapter, you should be able to:
1. Define rhetoric, rhetorical theory, and rhetorical criticism
2. Identify the key characteristics of rhetoric and rhetorical theory
3. Choose how to limit the study of rhetoric
4. Explain the influences of culture and technology on rhetoric
5. Describe the major developments in the study of rhetorical theory

Rhetoric is part of our personal, social, and political lives. On social media,
we are regularly confronted with articles shared by our family and friends.
While these articles often come from reputable news sources, the increasing
presence of “fake news” has made it difficult for people to determine what is
credible. As one solution, different social media sites have developed ways of
identifying potentially false news sources. Investigate the sites you use to see
how they call attention to sources that may not be credible. For instance,
Chrome’s B.S. Detector app helps identify news stories that may not be reliable
by displaying a banner at the top of potentially suspect posts. The 2016 U.S.
presidential election brought discussion about fake news to the forefront, but
fake news in the form of propaganda has been around for a long time.
As consumers of information, it’s important to be grounded in the principles
of rhetoric we’ll discuss throughout the book so you can make informed choices
based on the news you read. You’ll learn how to evaluate the credibility of the
source, identify fallacies in reasoning, and determine how to make decisions

3
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4 Part I: The Nature of Rhetoric

when the truth is difficult to establish. By developing your knowledge of rheto-


ric, you will be able to make determinations about the reliability of the news.
When Tim’s son, Oliver, was a little more than a year old, he would slowly
creep to the electrical outlets in his living room. Although they were covered, he
and his wife would give him a firm “no” every time he neared the outlets. One
day, Oliver was again creeping toward an outlet when he said, “No,” to him.
Unlike previous encounters, Oliver looked him in the eye, turned toward the
outlet, and kept crawling. From that moment, Oliver learned what it meant to
be a rhetorical being. He knew the meaning of “no” and he knew that he could
make choices relative to that word. He also knew there were consequences to
the rhetorical choices he made. We’ll come back to the word no in Chapter 6.
You’ll see that it is one of the most significant words in all of rhetoric.
Think of the ways your school uses rhetoric. Whether it is to convince pro-
spective students to attend, encourage current students to work their hardest, or
persuade alums to donate, your school is vitally interested in effectively using
rhetoric. Through the school’s website, promotional materials, and frequent
email communication, the faculty and administrators use rhetoric to influence
how you feel about your school and yourself. Likewise, homecoming is probably
a popular event on your campus. The name of this event reveals that alums are
welcomed back to campus. Yet, on most campuses, homecoming is also a way of
boosting school spirit and showcasing the campus to the community through
parades, events, and football games. As you go about your daily activities on
campus, think about how you are influenced by the school’s rhetoric.
From the moment you began to understand the meaning of words or sym-
bols, you have used rhetoric and have been influenced in subtle ways by how
others have used rhetoric around you. For instance, our perceptions of who we
are, those around us, and the social structure in which we operate are based on
rhetoric. When you make choices about political candidates, consumer items,
or values and beliefs, you cannot help but be influenced by rhetoric. Sociologist
Joseph Gusfield (1989) puts it bluntly: “We cannot avoid rhetoric. When we
speak, act, dress, eat, and generally conduct our lives we communicate and, in
doing so, persuade others, including ourselves” (p. 17). This book introduces
you more formally to rhetorical theory and its function in our world today.
This opening chapter defines rhetoric from a variety of perspectives. We’ll
examine some of the basic characteristics of rhetoric upon which many theo-
rists agree and see where theorists disagree about defining rhetoric. We’ll also
survey a brief history of rhetorical theory. Finally, we’ll review the structure and
contents of this book.

■ DEFINING RHETORIC
Before we go further, it is important to define what is meant by rhetoric. You
may have heard the term used in a sense that means flowery or showy speech
that doesn’t really accomplish anything. For instance, you may have heard that a
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Chapter 1 Defining Rhetoric and Rhetorical Theory 5

politician “used a lot of rhetoric but didn’t really say anything,” or you may have
heard someone say that a plan contained “a lot of rhetoric, but no action.” Rheto-
ric has a far deeper meaning that often escapes popular uses of the term.
Rhetoric includes words, images, and gestures that are presented to an audi-
ence for some kind of purpose. Rhetoric is usually thought to include the con-
tent of those words, images, and gestures as well as the style or form in which
they are presented. As we continue our discussion, you might find it useful to
come back to this definition because a great number of the theorists we are
going to discuss have quite different views. For now, consider rhetoric to be a
type of communication. Rhetorical theory is, essentially, explanations for how
rhetoric works and what it does. As we begin our discussion, you’ll note that
much rhetorical theory is aimed at clarifying what is effective rhetoric. As we
continue, though, you’ll notice that rhetorical theory also emphasizes the impli-
cations of how rhetoric is used.
Communication scholars Lucaites, Condit, and Caudill (1999) summarized
the various approaches to rhetoric: “In some instances, the definitions attributed
to rhetoric have made it so narrow as to include little more than style and delivery
within its purview; in other instances, its meaning has been so broad as to colo-
nize and include all other forms of discourse, ranging from logic to poetics” (p.
19). In the following sections, we’ll study selected definitions for rhetoric to give
you a sense of the range of perspectives theorists have taken toward this topic.

Definitions of Rhetoric
The ancient philosopher Aristotle was one of the first theorists to define rhet-
oric, and his definition is one of the most influential yet today (Lucaites, Condit, &
Caudill, 1999). Rhetoric, said Aristotle (trans. 1991), is “the ability, in each partic-
ular case, to see the available means of persuasion” (p. 36). His definition focused
on persuasion, an association that is still quite common today among theorists
and critics. Aristotle observed that persuaders could make use of a variety of rhe-
torical tools, such as style, arrangement of ideas, delivery, and proof of arguments.
In Aristotle’s day, rhetoric was usually seen as intentional, strategic, and oral in
nature. Rhetorical theorists of ancient times were interested in how speakers used
rhetoric to achieve purposive ends, such as passing laws or making judicial deci-
sions. Rhetoric was not seen as occurring in the normal, everyday communication
of individuals. Instead, rhetoric took place in formal settings for particular pur-
poses. Without the aid of technology, rhetoric was primarily oral. Speakers used
words delivered in their own voice to audiences that were immediately present.
We’ll discuss in more detail how the practice of rhetoric has changed since
ancient Greece and how theory has adapted to these changes in this chapter and
throughout the book. We should also point out that not all ancient Greek theo-
rists agreed upon a definition or function for rhetoric. Aristotle’s definition,
though, is useful to help us understand the scope and nature of rhetoric.
An anonymous book, the Rhetorica ad Herennium, written in ancient Rome
during the first century B.C.E. provides us with an operational definition of rhet-
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6 Part I: The Nature of Rhetoric

oric. This book identifies the five canons of classical rhetoric: invention,
arrangement, style, memory, and delivery. Rhetoric is created as a result of these
five processes. Invention refers to the discovery of ideas about which someone
speaks. Thinking of a topic, focusing your thoughts, and deciding how to prove
your ideas are all elements of invention. Arrangement refers to the order, or
structure, of ideas presented by the speaker. Style includes the words and man-
ner of speaking used. Memory refers to how the speaker remembers what to say.
(In ancient times, writing and printing technologies were not widely available,
so speakers had to create other ways of remembering their ideas.) Finally, deliv-
ery includes the speaker’s vocal characteristics and physical mannerisms. At this
point you have no doubt recalled your instruction in a public speaking class,
which was probably based on the five canons.
Another illustrative definition is that offered by the Renaissance philoso-
pher Peter Ramus (1515–1572), who separated rhetoric from other processes. In
essence, Ramus believed that rhetoric comprised only style and delivery. The
remaining canons of rhetoric, as defined by ancient theorists, belonged to other
disciplines, such as philosophy.
Later, Francis Bacon developed a theory of the human mind that afforded
rhetoric a far more significant role than Ramus assigned. We’ll study Bacon’s
theory of rhetoric in a later chapter. For now, let’s briefly identify his definition
of rhetoric: the duty and office of rhetoric is “to apply and recommend the dic-
tates of reason to the imagination, in order to excite the affections and will” (see
Bacon & Devey, 1605/1901, lines 271–272). Bacon’s view of rhetoric also
marked a significant departure from Aristotle’s theory of rhetoric. Whereas
Aristotle approached rhetoric from the perspective of the speaker, Bacon sought
to understand the mind of the audience. That is, he took a predominantly psy-
chological approach to rhetoric. However, Bacon was also concerned with the
persuasive aspect of rhetoric, and his theory provides a rich account of how
speakers can create rhetorical messages.
The twentieth century saw new ways of looking at rhetoric. In the mid-
1900s, rhetorical theorists began to focus more on the implications of rhetoric
within particular cultures and less on how communicators could use rhetoric to
create effective messages. Thus, theorists began to emphasize the social, cultural,
and ethical dimensions of rhetoric. Illustrative of this thinking is communication
scholar Marie Hochmuth Nichols, who defined rhetoric in 1963 as “the theory
and practice of the verbal mode of presenting judgment and choice, knowledge
and feeling” (p. 7). Rhetoric, then, was linked to making choices and passing
judgment, which implies the use of ethical standards. She was also concerned
with the type of knowledge produced by rhetoric. It should be noted that many
ancient theorists were also concerned with the relationship between rhetoric,
knowledge, ethics, and judgment, but these aspects of rhetoric have received far
greater attention in recent years. Nichols limited her definition of rhetoric to lan-
guage. We’ll discuss the important function of language in rhetoric, but we’ll also
broaden our study of rhetoric to include nonverbal symbols as well.
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Chapter 1 Defining Rhetoric and Rhetorical Theory 7

Rhetorical theorist Kenneth Burke used the word identification as a syn-


onym for communication. He defined rhetoric as “the use of language as a sym-
bolic means of inducing cooperation in beings that by nature respond to
symbols” (Burke, 1969b, p. 43). Cooperation is achieved when a speaker and
audience identify with each other. There is some give and take by both the
speaker and audience for cooperation, or identification, to be achieved. Thus,
Burke is interested in receivers, or audience members, and their perception of
rhetoric. Burke’s focus on symbolic communication and cooperation marked a
departure from previous ways of viewing rhetoric. For Burke, symbols are the
essential element of rhetoric; he downplayed other aspects in order to under-
stand the full power of symbols on how we relate to others.
The definitions offered so far have viewed rhetoric from the perspective of
powerful speakers who used rhetoric for specific goals: to gain political or legal
power, or to communicate scientific findings. Not all theorists we study will
approach rhetoric from this perspective. In Chapters 8 and 9, for instance, we’ll
examine how women and people from non-Anglo cultures define and study
rhetoric. For example, Foss and Griffin (1995) presented us with a definition of
rhetoric that focuses on the relationship between the person producing rhetoric
and his or her audience. They define rhetoric as invitational rhetoric, which is
“an invitation to understanding as a means to create a relationship rooted in
equality, immanent value, and self-determination” (p. 5). As we continue, keep
in mind that rhetoric is practiced by a variety of people who have very different
orientations to the world. Consequently, the ways we study rhetoric will vary
from culture to culture and theorist to theorist.
Communication scholar Thomas Farrell (1990) highlighted several important
elements of rhetoric in the following definition: “a collaborative manner of engag-
ing others through discourse so that contingencies may be resolved, judgments
rendered, action produced” (p. 83). Farrell broadened his definition by using the
word discourse, which includes nonverbal forms of communication as well. Far-
rell’s definition is also useful for us because it focuses on the collaborative nature
of rhetoric and its uses. In other words, Farrell was interested in rhetoric as a
social act that is shared between two or more people to accomplish something.
Rhetoric, then, involves symbols—verbal and/or nonverbal—and it is con-
cerned with coordinating action between individuals. Rhetoric helps us make
choices, and it is created in the interaction between unique individuals. Most
important, a culture’s conception of rhetoric is unique to that culture. As cul-
tures change, so too do conceptions of rhetoric. We’ll see the interconnection
between rhetoric and culture throughout this book.
Finally, Rosteck (1999) defines rhetoric as the use of language and other
symbolic systems to make sense of our experiences, construct our personal and
collective identities, produce meaning, and prompt action in the world. This
inclusive definition will be useful for us as we focus on the implications of rheto-
ric. Rosteck saw rhetoric as the way we communicate a wide range of informa-
tion to others and the way we understand our own identity. Rosteck’s definition
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8 Part I: The Nature of Rhetoric

views rhetoric both as strategic—in that it can accomplish some kind of action—
but also as constitutive of our experiences, culture, and identities.
In the next section of this chapter, we’ll unpack his definition to explore
more closely some of the key characteristics of rhetoric. For now, let’s clarify
some basic terms that we have been using and will continue to use.

Basic Terms
The word rhetoric often refers both to the symbols that are used in commu-
nication as well as to the theory about those symbols. You might read that “The
president’s rhetoric toward terrorism was aggressive,” for instance. In this case,
the writer is referring to the words and other symbols used by Donald Trump as
he spoke about terrorism. You might also read that “Aristotle’s rhetoric focused
on persuasion.” In this case, the writer is referring to Aristotle’s theory about
rhetoric. If you think about it, it makes some sense to use the same word to refer
to both product and theory. After all, when theory is communicated, it func-
tions rhetorically to persuade others to accept its validity. Some theorists, such
as Nichols (1963), combine rhetoric and rhetorical theory in their definition of
the subject.
To clarify what is meant by rhetoric, however, we’ll use the term to desig-
nate the symbols used by people to communicate. We might also refer to this
sort of communication as rhetorical practice on occasion. We’ll call the person
doing the communicating the rhetor. The term rhetorical theory will be
reserved for theories that describe rhetorical practice. Rhetorical theorist will
be used for a person who created a particular rhetorical theory.

Rhetorical Criticism
We must define one last set of terms before we can proceed to study rhetori-
cal theory. Rhetorical criticism is the process of using rhetorical theory in order
to understand and evaluate rhetorical practice and generate future rhetorical
theory. Rhetorical criticism is the method used by rhetorical researchers,
whereas social scientific researchers use surveys, experiments, or ethnography.
Rhetorical critics are people who practice rhetorical criticism. An essential rela-
tionship exists between all of these terms. Rhetorical theory is useless without
the practice of rhetoric and application of theoretical principles. In essence, rhet-
oric invites theorizing about its principles, strategies, and effects. Accordingly,
rhetorical theory is used to critique rhetoric so that rhetors have a better under-
standing of its impact. Consequently, new rhetorical theory is developed or
existing theory is modified through the critical application of rhetorical princi-
ples. This relationship is illustrated in Figure 1.1. Rhetorical criticism is explored
in closer detail in Box 1.1. Additionally, current rhetorical theory blurs the dis-
tinction between theory and criticism. We’ll take up this point in later chapters
of the book. In short, although we focus here on rhetorical theory, we can’t
ignore the other aspects of rhetoric: its actual practice and critical component.
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Chapter 1 Defining Rhetoric and Rhetorical Theory 9

m T

h
s

eo
ci
ti

ry
Cri
Figure 1.1 A circle of arrows can represent the
relationship between rhetorical theory, prac-
tice, and criticism. Each influences the other, and Pra
without one aspect of this relationship, the oth- ctice
ers would be less informed.

BOX 1.1 Critical Insights: The Nature of Rhetorical Criticism


We have just defined rhetorical criticism as the application of rhetorical theory to rhetori-
cal practice in order to understand and/or evaluate rhetoric. In each chapter of this book, we’ll
study an example of rhetorical criticism that draws on one of the theories discussed in the
chapter. Doing so will allow you to better understand and appreciate the practical nature of
rhetorical theory.
In this first chapter, we’ll describe in a bit more detail the process of rhetorical criticism. The
critic begins by identifying some kind of rhetorical artifact to study. An artifact provides data
for the study (Foss, 2018). It may be a speech, film, advertisement, or any other rhetorical
event, act, or process. Or, the critic may generate a meaningful and significant question about
rhetoric and then find an artifact to examine to answer the question. In any case, generally the
critic must develop some kind of research question about an artifact of rhetoric.
The next step of rhetorical criticism is to identify a rhetorical method, which is an aspect of
rhetorical theory that will help the critic answer his or her question. We’ll discuss a great deal of
theory in this book, much of which has been used as a rhetorical method. For instance, in the
next chapter we’ll discuss the types of proof rhetors may use to persuade an audience. The critic
may use what is discussed in that chapter to analyze and evaluate the proof used by a speaker.
The next step is to use the method to analyze the rhetorical artifact. At this point, the critic
illuminates the techniques of rhetoric used by the rhetor. The goal of rhetorical analysis is to
generate insight about the artifact that would not be readily apparent without the criticism.
Finally, the critic evaluates the rhetoric based on his or her analysis. The critic may assess
the effectiveness of the rhetorical artifact, its accuracy, or some other aspect. The critic should
also be sure to answer the research question—which may ask for an evaluation. Finally, the
critic should suggest ways that rhetorical theory can be modified in light of the analysis. We
have discussed how rhetorical theory, practice, and criticism are related. By commenting on
rhetorical theory, the critic is able to complete the circle identified previously.
As you read this book, we’ll look at some examples of rhetorical criticism so you can better
understand the dynamic relationships between theory, practice, and criticism.
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10 Part I: The Nature of Rhetoric

■ CHARACTERISTICS OF RHETORIC
The various definitions of rhetoric identify several essential characteristics,
or issues. Although rhetorical theorists take somewhat different stances toward
them, we’ll discuss those that are predominate in their work. Specifically, we’ll
discuss the following characteristics:
1. Rhetoric is symbolic.
2. Rhetoric involves an audience.
3. Rhetoric establishes what is probably true.
4. Rhetorical theory is inventive and analytic.

Rhetoric Is Symbolic
Rhetoric is inherently symbolic. Symbols are letters, images, or gestures
that represent, or stand for, something else. The word cat is a symbol, for
instance, that stands for a fluffy animal with a long tail. We understand that the
nonverbal symbol of a wave is often seen as a greeting to someone. When we
communicate, we rely on symbols to explain, express, or persuade. The sym-
bolic nature of communication makes it complex in several ways.
First, symbols are, by nature, arbitrary and subjective. That is, words,
images, and gestures do not necessarily have meanings that we all share. If I say
the words, “affirmative action,” for example, several ideas may come to your
mind. You might think about a law that effectively guarantees equal rights for
all, or you might think about an unfair way of using quotas in employment and
education. There is not necessarily a direct relationship between the word and
what it means for each individual audience member. That is, the association
between a sign and what it represents is not natural. Although we might share
some ideas about what words mean, we also have a variety of perspectives on
the meaning of symbols. We can also make up words and give them meaning.
Oftentimes, our classrooms are filled with chairs that have writing surfaces
attached to them. We encourage our students to call these pieces of furniture
chesks to illustrate the dynamic and arbitrary nature of symbols.
Second, symbols include a variety of signs, such as letters and words, pic-
tures, and nonverbal gestures. Although a great deal of rhetorical theory we
study will focus on spoken words, technology has increased the types of sym-
bols humans use when they communicate and blurred convenient distinctions
between spoken, written, and mediated symbols. Even silence can be a symbol
when it is used to communicate a message to someone. If you’ve ever given
someone “the silent treatment,” you know how powerful the symbolism of
silence can be.

Rhetoric Involves an Audience


Of central importance to rhetorical theory is the relationship between
rhetor and audience. Rhetoric takes place in the interaction between people.
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Chapter 1 Defining Rhetoric and Rhetorical Theory 11

When you try to convince your friends to go to a particular movie over another,
you are using rhetoric. When the president of the United States persuades the
public to support a particular law, he has used rhetoric. Barilli (1989) pointed
out that rhetorical audiences are ordinary people, “subject to feeling tired,
bored, or bewildered, if arguments are too hard to follow” (p. ix).
The audience for a rhetor includes those individuals who have the ability to
determine the meaning of the symbols exchanged in an interaction. We might
think of rhetors and audiences as belonging to the same “rhetorical community.”
That is, a rhetorical community exists to make certain decisions or decide on
moral action. Depending on the topic of discussion, the rhetorical community
will be larger or smaller. When you and your friends decide where to eat or what
movie to see, the rhetorical community consists only of you and your friends
involved in the decision. When the president proposes a federal tax cut pro-
posal, the rhetorical community consists of all Americans. Given that many
nations, and their citizens, around the world have the ability to influence the
debate over terrorism and immigration, we could say that the rhetorical com-
munity for that debate includes many of the world’s citizens.
As a result, rhetoric is practical, suggesting that it is used to accomplish
something or achieve some end. Rhetoric, when it is effective, is able to bring
people together to make a decision that is popularly accepted. In some ways,
democracy is dependent on rhetoric. We assume in this society that people are
free and able to discuss important issues and that after hearing arguments from
others, we make our decisions and act accordingly. Of course, we’re not always
on the winning end of these arguments, and at times it seems that our decision-
makers do not always listen to the rhetoric of all the citizens. Yet despite these
limitations, our culture’s government system is based on the principles inherent
in rhetoric.
So far, we have discussed audiences that are relatively easy to define and lim-
ited in scope. Our study of rhetoric will also address the rhetoric that exists in
popular culture, such as television programs, clothing, music, or magazines.
When you watch a television show, for instance, you are being subtly influenced
in many ways. However, you aren’t asked to necessarily vote on any kind of deci-
sion. You do, however, participate in a discussion about the kinds of values and
beliefs our culture celebrates. In this way, we form our individual and collective
identities by sharing in rhetorical situations with other individuals. In a sense, the
rhetorical community for this type of exchange consists of all members of the cul-
ture in which the rhetoric occurs. We are all, potentially, influenced by the rheto-
ric of television, film, advertising, and content on the Internet. Keep in mind that
the audience for a particular rhetor may be quite large and not easily identified.
Some theorists further complicate the idea of the speaker–audience relation-
ship by suggesting that such a distinction obscures the relationship between
rhetor and audience. Communication scholar Michael Calvin McGee (1990)
made the point that in contemporary culture the audience member often does the
job of assembling rhetorical messages. The sources of rhetoric are often unknown
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12 Part I: The Nature of Rhetoric

to us; instead, we are surrounded by fragments of their messages that we combine


to create a meaningful, whole message. Consider your use of social media. You
likely are engaged with several sources at the same time, such as Twitter, Face-
book, and Snapchat. They each display articles, posts, and texts that you combine
to form your opinions about your friends, your school, and the world. You, the
audience member, are assembling the fragments of rhetorical messages to create a
new rhetorical text. In essence, argued McGee, you have become the creator of
the rhetorical messages. We’ll take up this controversial point later in the book.
No matter how large or small the rhetorical community, a democratic society
demands that individuals play an active role in determining policies and values.
As you consider all the ways you use rhetoric, consider the influence you have
within various rhetorical communities. Lucaites and Condit (1999b) noted that
“the ability to contribute to public discourse was taken by classical teachers of
rhetoric as an essential attribute of the educated citizen and thus very highly val-
ued” (p. 3). The same is true of educated citizens today in a society such as ours.

Rhetoric Establishes What Is Probably True


As our opening example about fake news indicates, we are often asked to
make decisions or take action when we don’t know all the facts—when we aren’t
certain about a future course of action. Rhetoric is used in these situations to
help us determine what is probably true. You might think about knowledge as
existing on a continuum. At one end are certain truths, such as the theory of
gravity. The scientific theory of gravity is true in all situations on earth. On the
other end of the continuum are issues we accept only on faith, such as the love of
a significant other. In the middle of this continuum are beliefs we form that are
based on “informed opinion” (Bryant, 1953, p. 407). The creation of informed
opinions is based on rhetoric. Lucaites and Condit (1999a) explained that people
seldom wait for “certain truths to be delivered to them by the priests of truth and
knowledge,” but instead they “act on their shared and compromised visions of
the most probable course of action, based on what they believe they know, here
and now” (pp. 610–611).
Throughout history, rhetoric has played a more or less significant role in
how people form their opinions. In ancient Greece, male landowners were priv-
ileged to debate political and legal issues, hearing the ideas of other individuals
and then basing their opinions on what they heard. In this type of culture, rhet-
oric was seen as very important. In the Middle Ages, church leaders or mon-
archs communicated their will to the people, and the people had little means or
desire to challenge the opinions of their leaders. Thus, rhetoric played a less sig-
nificant role in forming opinions. Later, scientists communicated to the public
what was found to be true using scientific methods. However, people did not
necessarily use rhetoric to challenge the findings of science. Today, technology
makes it possible for individuals to challenge the ideas of their political or reli-
gious leaders and the scientific community. In addition, the increasing degree of
diversity in our society has introduced new and disparate voices to our conver-
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Chapter 1 Defining Rhetoric and Rhetorical Theory 13

sations. Consequently, rhetoric is experiencing a “revived interest” among


scholars from a variety of disciplines (Rosteck, 1999, p. 2).
One reason for this revived interest is the view that rhetoric is “epistemic”
(Scott, 1967). Rhetoric, according to communication scholar Robert L. Scott,
generates truth and knowledge. Rhetoric is not seen as a “conduit,” or a pipe, for
an objective, independent truth (Lucaites & Condit, 1999b, p. 3). Instead of
thinking that rhetoric obscures truth, rhetorical theorists believe that rhetoric
creates what is thought to be true in a particular situation. A central concern of
rhetorical theorists has been the universality of the truth established through
rhetoric. Scott (1967) argued that we should not consider truth “as something
fixed and final but as something to be created moment by moment in the cir-
cumstances” (p. 17) in which we find ourselves. Barilli (1989) explained that “the
final right to assess the degree of closeness to the true belongs to the demos,
that is, the people, a community, an assembly of politicians, judges, the partici-
pants in a discussion, in a debate, and so on” (p. ix).
Some theorists question the usefulness of truth that is only based on what is
probably true in a particular situation. Plato, for instance, was concerned that peo-
ple would not always make the best decisions about what is right and wrong. He
believed that flowery rhetoric could easily sway opinions and ideas of truth. The
theorists we discuss will each enter this discussion in some way. Communication
scholar Donald C. Bryant (1953) put it simply: “Rhetoric exists, however, because
a world of certainty is not the world of human affairs. It exists because the world
of human affairs is a world where there must be an alternative to certain knowl-
edge on the one hand and pure chance or whimsy on the other” (p. 39). With all of
the new forms of “news” to which we are constantly exposed, it is more important
than ever to develop skills in critical thinking and rhetorical knowledge.

Rhetorical Theory Is Inventive and Analytic


Rhetorical theory suggests ways of producing effective communication, and
it provides a way to analyze communication. Bryant (1953) explained that rheto-
ric provides “assistance to the speaker in discovering what questions to ask and
how to go about answering them” (p. 418). The clearest example of this idea may
be Aristotle’s theory, which classified the types of arguments people made and
identified specific strategies that could be used to make rhetoric effective. You
may have taken an introductory speech class prior to taking this class. If so, you
have already been exposed to rhetorical theory. Many public speaking classes rely,
at least in part, on rhetorical theory. You may have given an informative speech
and/or persuasive speech to demonstrate the types of speeches the ancient theo-
rist Aristotle observed. Or, you may have been told to use Aristotle’s ideas about
appeals to emotion, credibility, and logic in your speech. This class continues
your study of effective communication. Our focus, though, extends far beyond
the medium of face-to-face oral communication. In Chapter 5, for instance, we’ll
study Kathleen Hall Jamieson’s theory of electronic eloquence, which explained
how rhetors can be effective when communicating via television.
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14 Part I: The Nature of Rhetoric

As you read this text, however, you’ll see that not all theorists suggest ways
to create effective speeches or other forms of communication. Instead, some
rhetorical theorists are more interested in how rhetoric creates our world, our
experiences within that world, and our conception of ourselves. Many theorists
we’ll encounter, particularly those of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries,
are primarily interested in the kinds of worlds we construct through rhetoric.
Less interested in creating effective rhetoric, instead they are concerned with
critiquing how rhetoric affects our relationships with others, our views of truth,
and our value systems. Lucaites and Condit (1999b) noted that rhetoric should
be seen as a “substantial dimension of many facets of the human social experi-
ence” (p. 10).
To expand the concept of rhetoric as method even further, we can study
what happens when rhetorical theory critiques itself. We have previously dis-
cussed the relationship between rhetorical theory, criticism, and practice.
Underscoring this relationship is the idea that theory constantly revises itself.
Rhetoric in this sense is self-reflexive. The questions rhetoric asks of other sub-
jects, can also be asked of itself. We use rhetoric to question whether a particu-
lar type of proof may be the most effective for a given situation, for instance. In
essence, we constantly revise rhetorical theory in light of how rhetoric is used
within a culture.

■ LIMITS OF RHETORIC
Although rhetorical theorists generally agree on the ideas in our previous
discussion, there is a great deal of disagreement when it comes to determining
the limits of rhetoric. We’ll discuss some of the points of controversy here. For
each issue, you might think of a continuum, a line with two divergent ideas upon
which there are many intermediary points. Some theorists hold extreme views
on these issues, but other theorists fit somewhere in the middle of the contin-
uum. To facilitate your introduction to rhetorical theory, we’ll take a fairly inclu-
sive approach to rhetoric in this book, choosing to discuss the following points
of controversy regarding rhetoric’s limit:
1. Is rhetoric limited to persuasion?
2. Is rhetoric intentional?
3. Is rhetoric comprised only of words?
4. Is rhetoric limited to public address?
5. Is rhetoric concerned with propositions or style or both?

Rhetoric and Persuasion


In its earliest form, rhetoric was concerned with communication that was
persuasive in nature. This focus should be apparent from the various definitions
of rhetoric that we discussed previously. Theorists today continue to associate
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Chapter 1 Defining Rhetoric and Rhetorical Theory 15

rhetoric with persuasion. However, there is often a fine line between informa-
tive, persuasive, or expressive communication. In fact, some theorists are not
concerned about trying to distinguish informative and expressive communica-
tion from persuasive communication. Donald C. Bryant (1974) asserted that
such divisions are “fictions” and that “most artifacts of discourse exhibit various
dimensions” (p. 239). As you read this book, think about how each theorist
views the relationship between persuasion and rhetoric. Some theorists will
equate these two terms, while others broaden rhetoric’s definition beyond that
of persuasion. In particular, read the summary section for each chapter that sur-
veys the various ways of defining rhetoric presented in the chapter.

Rhetoric and Intention


What is important to Bryant and other theorists is that rhetorical commu-
nication is instrumental. That is, rhetoric is designed to achieve some kind of
goal, or outcome. Yawning in class simply because you are tired would not be
considered rhetoric from this perspective, since you didn’t intend to send a mes-
sage with your yawn. It is important to point out, though, that many of a rhetor’s
consequences are unintended. If you yawn in class, you might not intend to
communicate that you’re bored, but your instructor may certainly think that is
the case. Some theorists are not concerned about the rhetor’s intent, but rather
about the outcome of the rhetoric, whether it was intended or not. Likewise, an
image may have persuasive effects that are not explicitly stated. The audience
member has to “read into” the image in order to determine the message. If we
view communication from a rhetorical perspective, then the rhetor’s intent is
not necessarily that important, nor is the nature of the rhetoric. What is most
important, from a rhetorical perspective, is the influence that rhetoric has on an
audience. In any case, intentional persuasion that results from the use of sym-
bols will be the subject of our discussion in this book.

Rhetoric and Discourse


Discourse usually refers to words, whether spoken or written. The earliest
rhetoric, of course, consisted of spoken words. As you’ll read in a few pages, the
earliest study of contemporary rhetoric also began with oral speech as the focus.
The study of gestures and other nonverbal symbols was also considered the
domain of rhetoric. As the media of rhetorical messages changed, however,
rhetors began using images, sometimes at the complete expense of words. Con-
sider commercial logos. Without using words, Nike, for example, is able to wield
considerable influence with its logo. Some theorists today focus exclusively on
words and gestures, while others are developing a rhetorical theory of visual
images to help them understand persuasion and influence. Throughout the
early part of the book, we’ll focus on rhetoric as words and gestures. In Chapter
5 though, we’ll spend time understanding the visual nature of rhetoric. The
visual nature of rhetoric will be important in Chapters 10–12 as well.
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16 Part I: The Nature of Rhetoric

Rhetoric and Public Address


In a similar vein, some theorists contend that rhetoric is concerned with pub-
lic address, and others use a rhetorical perspective to effectively study film, televi-
sion, interpersonal communication, and other forms of communication. In its
earliest conception, of course, public address was the form of rhetoric most widely
used, studied, and taught. As orators began transmitting messages via radio, tele-
vision, and the Internet, the nature of the public address “event” changed. Today,
it is almost impossible, and perhaps ineffective, to study the specific speaking
event exclusively. Critics must also consider the medium’s influence and the large
audience exposed to the speech. Doing so, however, blurs the line between public
address and other forms of communication. Although it’s easy to see how the
president’s State of the Union Address is rhetoric, it is problematic to say that a
photo opportunity on an aircraft carrier is not. From there, it is not that much of a
stretch to also claim that television, film, advertising, and content on the Internet
are rhetorical as well. In fact, much of our discussion in Chapters 5, 10, 11, and 12
will look at rhetoric that takes place in these different types of media.

Rhetoric’s Substance
Finally, rhetorical theorists have, since the beginning of time, questioned the
nature of rhetoric’s substance. Some theorists contend that because rhetoric is
interested in advancing arguments in support of truth, it is similar to philosophy.
Others reject this idea and assert that rhetoric is simply the style and ornamen-
tation attached to something we already know to be true or that rhetoric in fact
hinders our search for truth because of its ornamental qualities. Most theorists
today reject such totalizing statements, believing that rhetoric combines propo-
sitions with poetics, or arguments with style. For example, Barilli (1989) stated
that “Rhetoric is a comprehensive, total way of using discourse. This means that
the physical aspects of speech are not sacrificed to the intellectual dimension”
(p. vii). You’ll see this controversy play out in Chapters 2–4. In the end, most the-
orists generally accept that rhetoric includes both style and content.

■ INFLUENCES ON RHETORIC
Rhetorical practice is constantly changing and as it does, rhetorical theory
constantly changes as well. For example, a speech by Cicero to the Roman Senate
in 55 B.C.E. was very different from a tweet sent by the president to a worldwide
audience. Cicero, for instance, could see his entire audience and probably knew
many of its members. President Trump, on the other hand, does not have physical
contact with his audience, nor does he personally know a fraction of the total audi-
ence. The changing nature of rhetorical practice and rhetorical theory is due to
several factors that we’ll briefly discuss here. We’ll talk about each of these factors
in later chapters. Specifically, we’ll examine two developments that have had sig-
nificant impacts on rhetorical theory: culture and communication technologies.
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Chapter 1 Defining Rhetoric and Rhetorical Theory 17

Culture
Perhaps the most significant influence on rhetoric is that of culture. The
setting in which a specific group of people communicate plays a great role in
how they communicate and in how that communication, in turn, affects their
situation. Let’s examine how political structures and expectations about equality
influence rhetoric.
The political system of a culture plays a significant role in the type of rheto-
ric used by that culture. In democratic societies, such as ancient Greece or con-
temporary United States, rhetoric is used to make all kinds of political and legal
decisions. Candidates are elected to office after using campaign rhetoric and
securing the public’s vote. When elected, officials use rhetoric to debate the
merits of proposed policies and choose action they believe is in the community’s
best interest. Our country’s legal system is built on the principle that the defen-
dant is presumed innocent until proven guilty. The phrase itself is an example of
rhetoric, and rhetoric is used to prove the guilt or innocence of those accused of
crimes. In totalitarian cultures of ancient and modern times, rhetoric’s function
as a deliberative tool is limited. It is widely believed that the famous rhetor
Cicero had his hands and head displayed in the Roman Senate after his death as
a warning to those who would use rhetoric to question the government. You’ll
read more about Cicero in the next chapter.
A culture’s expectations of equality are linked, in some ways, to the culture’s
political system. In the United States, for instance, freedom of speech (which is
really the freedom to use rhetoric) is codified in the constitution so that all can
enjoy that freedom. Our rhetoric, then, reflects this idea. At the same time,
there are those in U.S. culture and other cultures that construct rhetorical the-
ory in a way that identifies and counteracts the unequal exercise of power in that
culture. Feminist theorists, for instance, highlight the ways that traditional rhe-
torical theories reinforce inequality and are creating theories that aid in the lib-
eration of those who are oppressed. A feminist theory might suggest ways that
magazine advertisements demean women and suggest ways to resist what is
advertised. The practice and potential of equality in a culture are major influ-
ences in the contemporary theories we discuss later in this book.

Communication Technologies
The first instances of rhetorical practice featured a speaker and audience
who were united in time and place. Without amplification technology, the audi-
ence had to be within earshot of the speaker. Today, of course, rhetoric can be
broadcast instantaneously to the entire world via satellite or the Internet. As the
media of communication change, so too do the expectations for the communi-
cation and the impact of the communication on the audience.
Without going into too much detail at this point, let’s consider how a politi-
cian would have constructed a message in ancient Greece and compare that
with how it may be done today. In ancient Greece, the rhetors would have had to
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18 Part I: The Nature of Rhetoric

communicate about topics with which everyone in the audience had experience.
Additionally, the speaker would have had to communicate in a way that was easy
for the audience to remember, since they didn’t take notes or record the speech.
Finally, the speaker would have had to project his voice to be heard by distant
audience members.
Today, on the other hand, communicators can call on a range of cultural
knowledge, since we are exposed—by media—to a range of issues and experi-
ences. The speaker would have to compose the message so it would be attractive
to audience members accustomed to visual images. For instance, images and
graphics would probably be used to enhance the message. Finally, the speaker
would have to choose which media—television, print, or social media—would
be most effective at delivering the message to a mass audience. It’s easy to see
from these examples that technology influences how rhetoric is created and
analyzed. We’ll explore this influence in greater detail in later chapters. As you
consider the ways that culture and technology influence rhetorical practice,
complete the Internet Activity, Rhetorical Influences, in Box 1.2.

BOX 1.2 Internet Activity: Rhetorical Influences


We have just discussed the influence of culture and technology on rhetorical practice and
its theory. Using what you know, read a speech published in the Online Speech Bank located
at http://americanrhetoric.com/speechbank.htm and consider how it was influenced by cul-
ture and technology. Read a speech on a topic that interests you and then answer these ques-
tions: How does the speech reflect the culture’s political system? How does the speech reflect
the culture’s ideas about equality? How does the medium of the speech influence the
speaker’s choices? Was the speech effective? Why or why not? Would the speech have been as
effective in a different culture? Why or why not?

■ A BRIEF HISTORY OF RHETORICAL THEORY


We have just discussed two influences on rhetoric: culture and communica-
tion technologies. In this section, we’ll focus on the impact these influences
have had on rhetorical theory and practice. As we proceed in our study of rhe-
torical theory, it will be easy to lose track of the “big picture” by focusing too
intently on the specific theorists. We can, to some degree, lump theorists from
particular time periods together because they have common ways of seeing the
world and rhetoric’s role in that world. Of course, any such categorization is
problematic, because not all theorists during a given time period have similar
views. However, Scott (1975) attempted to create groupings of theorists by
addressing the social forces that have led to particular ideas about rhetoric.
Scott’s focus is on how messages result from the “interacting of speakers, lis-
teners, and the world in which they live” (Scott, 1975, p. 440). Scott contended
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DANCE ON STILTS AT THE GIRLS’ UNYAGO, NIUCHI

Newala, too, suffers from the distance of its water-supply—at least


the Newala of to-day does; there was once another Newala in a lovely
valley at the foot of the plateau. I visited it and found scarcely a trace
of houses, only a Christian cemetery, with the graves of several
missionaries and their converts, remaining as a monument of its
former glories. But the surroundings are wonderfully beautiful. A
thick grove of splendid mango-trees closes in the weather-worn
crosses and headstones; behind them, combining the useful and the
agreeable, is a whole plantation of lemon-trees covered with ripe
fruit; not the small African kind, but a much larger and also juicier
imported variety, which drops into the hands of the passing traveller,
without calling for any exertion on his part. Old Newala is now under
the jurisdiction of the native pastor, Daudi, at Chingulungulu, who,
as I am on very friendly terms with him, allows me, as a matter of
course, the use of this lemon-grove during my stay at Newala.
FEET MUTILATED BY THE RAVAGES OF THE “JIGGER”
(Sarcopsylla penetrans)

The water-supply of New Newala is in the bottom of the valley,


some 1,600 feet lower down. The way is not only long and fatiguing,
but the water, when we get it, is thoroughly bad. We are suffering not
only from this, but from the fact that the arrangements at Newala are
nothing short of luxurious. We have a separate kitchen—a hut built
against the boma palisade on the right of the baraza, the interior of
which is not visible from our usual position. Our two cooks were not
long in finding this out, and they consequently do—or rather neglect
to do—what they please. In any case they do not seem to be very
particular about the boiling of our drinking-water—at least I can
attribute to no other cause certain attacks of a dysenteric nature,
from which both Knudsen and I have suffered for some time. If a
man like Omari has to be left unwatched for a moment, he is capable
of anything. Besides this complaint, we are inconvenienced by the
state of our nails, which have become as hard as glass, and crack on
the slightest provocation, and I have the additional infliction of
pimples all over me. As if all this were not enough, we have also, for
the last week been waging war against the jigger, who has found his
Eldorado in the hot sand of the Makonde plateau. Our men are seen
all day long—whenever their chronic colds and the dysentery likewise
raging among them permit—occupied in removing this scourge of
Africa from their feet and trying to prevent the disastrous
consequences of its presence. It is quite common to see natives of
this place with one or two toes missing; many have lost all their toes,
or even the whole front part of the foot, so that a well-formed leg
ends in a shapeless stump. These ravages are caused by the female of
Sarcopsylla penetrans, which bores its way under the skin and there
develops an egg-sac the size of a pea. In all books on the subject, it is
stated that one’s attention is called to the presence of this parasite by
an intolerable itching. This agrees very well with my experience, so
far as the softer parts of the sole, the spaces between and under the
toes, and the side of the foot are concerned, but if the creature
penetrates through the harder parts of the heel or ball of the foot, it
may escape even the most careful search till it has reached maturity.
Then there is no time to be lost, if the horrible ulceration, of which
we see cases by the dozen every day, is to be prevented. It is much
easier, by the way, to discover the insect on the white skin of a
European than on that of a native, on which the dark speck scarcely
shows. The four or five jiggers which, in spite of the fact that I
constantly wore high laced boots, chose my feet to settle in, were
taken out for me by the all-accomplished Knudsen, after which I
thought it advisable to wash out the cavities with corrosive
sublimate. The natives have a different sort of disinfectant—they fill
the hole with scraped roots. In a tiny Makua village on the slope of
the plateau south of Newala, we saw an old woman who had filled all
the spaces under her toe-nails with powdered roots by way of
prophylactic treatment. What will be the result, if any, who can say?
The rest of the many trifling ills which trouble our existence are
really more comic than serious. In the absence of anything else to
smoke, Knudsen and I at last opened a box of cigars procured from
the Indian store-keeper at Lindi, and tried them, with the most
distressing results. Whether they contain opium or some other
narcotic, neither of us can say, but after the tenth puff we were both
“off,” three-quarters stupefied and unspeakably wretched. Slowly we
recovered—and what happened next? Half-an-hour later we were
once more smoking these poisonous concoctions—so insatiable is the
craving for tobacco in the tropics.
Even my present attacks of fever scarcely deserve to be taken
seriously. I have had no less than three here at Newala, all of which
have run their course in an incredibly short time. In the early
afternoon, I am busy with my old natives, asking questions and
making notes. The strong midday coffee has stimulated my spirits to
an extraordinary degree, the brain is active and vigorous, and work
progresses rapidly, while a pleasant warmth pervades the whole
body. Suddenly this gives place to a violent chill, forcing me to put on
my overcoat, though it is only half-past three and the afternoon sun
is at its hottest. Now the brain no longer works with such acuteness
and logical precision; more especially does it fail me in trying to
establish the syntax of the difficult Makua language on which I have
ventured, as if I had not enough to do without it. Under the
circumstances it seems advisable to take my temperature, and I do
so, to save trouble, without leaving my seat, and while going on with
my work. On examination, I find it to be 101·48°. My tutors are
abruptly dismissed and my bed set up in the baraza; a few minutes
later I am in it and treating myself internally with hot water and
lemon-juice.
Three hours later, the thermometer marks nearly 104°, and I make
them carry me back into the tent, bed and all, as I am now perspiring
heavily, and exposure to the cold wind just beginning to blow might
mean a fatal chill. I lie still for a little while, and then find, to my
great relief, that the temperature is not rising, but rather falling. This
is about 7.30 p.m. At 8 p.m. I find, to my unbounded astonishment,
that it has fallen below 98·6°, and I feel perfectly well. I read for an
hour or two, and could very well enjoy a smoke, if I had the
wherewithal—Indian cigars being out of the question.
Having no medical training, I am at a loss to account for this state
of things. It is impossible that these transitory attacks of high fever
should be malarial; it seems more probable that they are due to a
kind of sunstroke. On consulting my note-book, I become more and
more inclined to think this is the case, for these attacks regularly
follow extreme fatigue and long exposure to strong sunshine. They at
least have the advantage of being only short interruptions to my
work, as on the following morning I am always quite fresh and fit.
My treasure of a cook is suffering from an enormous hydrocele which
makes it difficult for him to get up, and Moritz is obliged to keep in
the dark on account of his inflamed eyes. Knudsen’s cook, a raw boy
from somewhere in the bush, knows still less of cooking than Omari;
consequently Nils Knudsen himself has been promoted to the vacant
post. Finding that we had come to the end of our supplies, he began
by sending to Chingulungulu for the four sucking-pigs which we had
bought from Matola and temporarily left in his charge; and when
they came up, neatly packed in a large crate, he callously slaughtered
the biggest of them. The first joint we were thoughtless enough to
entrust for roasting to Knudsen’s mshenzi cook, and it was
consequently uneatable; but we made the rest of the animal into a
jelly which we ate with great relish after weeks of underfeeding,
consuming incredible helpings of it at both midday and evening
meals. The only drawback is a certain want of variety in the tinned
vegetables. Dr. Jäger, to whom the Geographical Commission
entrusted the provisioning of the expeditions—mine as well as his
own—because he had more time on his hands than the rest of us,
seems to have laid in a huge stock of Teltow turnips,[46] an article of
food which is all very well for occasional use, but which quickly palls
when set before one every day; and we seem to have no other tins
left. There is no help for it—we must put up with the turnips; but I
am certain that, once I am home again, I shall not touch them for ten
years to come.
Amid all these minor evils, which, after all, go to make up the
genuine flavour of Africa, there is at least one cheering touch:
Knudsen has, with the dexterity of a skilled mechanic, repaired my 9
× 12 cm. camera, at least so far that I can use it with a little care.
How, in the absence of finger-nails, he was able to accomplish such a
ticklish piece of work, having no tool but a clumsy screw-driver for
taking to pieces and putting together again the complicated
mechanism of the instantaneous shutter, is still a mystery to me; but
he did it successfully. The loss of his finger-nails shows him in a light
contrasting curiously enough with the intelligence evinced by the
above operation; though, after all, it is scarcely surprising after his
ten years’ residence in the bush. One day, at Lindi, he had occasion
to wash a dog, which must have been in need of very thorough
cleansing, for the bottle handed to our friend for the purpose had an
extremely strong smell. Having performed his task in the most
conscientious manner, he perceived with some surprise that the dog
did not appear much the better for it, and was further surprised by
finding his own nails ulcerating away in the course of the next few
days. “How was I to know that carbolic acid has to be diluted?” he
mutters indignantly, from time to time, with a troubled gaze at his
mutilated finger-tips.
Since we came to Newala we have been making excursions in all
directions through the surrounding country, in accordance with old
habit, and also because the akida Sefu did not get together the tribal
elders from whom I wanted information so speedily as he had
promised. There is, however, no harm done, as, even if seen only
from the outside, the country and people are interesting enough.
The Makonde plateau is like a large rectangular table rounded off
at the corners. Measured from the Indian Ocean to Newala, it is
about seventy-five miles long, and between the Rovuma and the
Lukuledi it averages fifty miles in breadth, so that its superficial area
is about two-thirds of that of the kingdom of Saxony. The surface,
however, is not level, but uniformly inclined from its south-western
edge to the ocean. From the upper edge, on which Newala lies, the
eye ranges for many miles east and north-east, without encountering
any obstacle, over the Makonde bush. It is a green sea, from which
here and there thick clouds of smoke rise, to show that it, too, is
inhabited by men who carry on their tillage like so many other
primitive peoples, by cutting down and burning the bush, and
manuring with the ashes. Even in the radiant light of a tropical day
such a fire is a grand sight.
Much less effective is the impression produced just now by the
great western plain as seen from the edge of the plateau. As often as
time permits, I stroll along this edge, sometimes in one direction,
sometimes in another, in the hope of finding the air clear enough to
let me enjoy the view; but I have always been disappointed.
Wherever one looks, clouds of smoke rise from the burning bush,
and the air is full of smoke and vapour. It is a pity, for under more
favourable circumstances the panorama of the whole country up to
the distant Majeje hills must be truly magnificent. It is of little use
taking photographs now, and an outline sketch gives a very poor idea
of the scenery. In one of these excursions I went out of my way to
make a personal attempt on the Makonde bush. The present edge of
the plateau is the result of a far-reaching process of destruction
through erosion and denudation. The Makonde strata are
everywhere cut into by ravines, which, though short, are hundreds of
yards in depth. In consequence of the loose stratification of these
beds, not only are the walls of these ravines nearly vertical, but their
upper end is closed by an equally steep escarpment, so that the
western edge of the Makonde plateau is hemmed in by a series of
deep, basin-like valleys. In order to get from one side of such a ravine
to the other, I cut my way through the bush with a dozen of my men.
It was a very open part, with more grass than scrub, but even so the
short stretch of less than two hundred yards was very hard work; at
the end of it the men’s calicoes were in rags and they themselves
bleeding from hundreds of scratches, while even our strong khaki
suits had not escaped scatheless.

NATIVE PATH THROUGH THE MAKONDE BUSH, NEAR


MAHUTA

I see increasing reason to believe that the view formed some time
back as to the origin of the Makonde bush is the correct one. I have
no doubt that it is not a natural product, but the result of human
occupation. Those parts of the high country where man—as a very
slight amount of practice enables the eye to perceive at once—has not
yet penetrated with axe and hoe, are still occupied by a splendid
timber forest quite able to sustain a comparison with our mixed
forests in Germany. But wherever man has once built his hut or tilled
his field, this horrible bush springs up. Every phase of this process
may be seen in the course of a couple of hours’ walk along the main
road. From the bush to right or left, one hears the sound of the axe—
not from one spot only, but from several directions at once. A few
steps further on, we can see what is taking place. The brush has been
cut down and piled up in heaps to the height of a yard or more,
between which the trunks of the large trees stand up like the last
pillars of a magnificent ruined building. These, too, present a
melancholy spectacle: the destructive Makonde have ringed them—
cut a broad strip of bark all round to ensure their dying off—and also
piled up pyramids of brush round them. Father and son, mother and
son-in-law, are chopping away perseveringly in the background—too
busy, almost, to look round at the white stranger, who usually excites
so much interest. If you pass by the same place a week later, the piles
of brushwood have disappeared and a thick layer of ashes has taken
the place of the green forest. The large trees stretch their
smouldering trunks and branches in dumb accusation to heaven—if
they have not already fallen and been more or less reduced to ashes,
perhaps only showing as a white stripe on the dark ground.
This work of destruction is carried out by the Makonde alike on the
virgin forest and on the bush which has sprung up on sites already
cultivated and deserted. In the second case they are saved the trouble
of burning the large trees, these being entirely absent in the
secondary bush.
After burning this piece of forest ground and loosening it with the
hoe, the native sows his corn and plants his vegetables. All over the
country, he goes in for bed-culture, which requires, and, in fact,
receives, the most careful attention. Weeds are nowhere tolerated in
the south of German East Africa. The crops may fail on the plains,
where droughts are frequent, but never on the plateau with its
abundant rains and heavy dews. Its fortunate inhabitants even have
the satisfaction of seeing the proud Wayao and Wamakua working
for them as labourers, driven by hunger to serve where they were
accustomed to rule.
But the light, sandy soil is soon exhausted, and would yield no
harvest the second year if cultivated twice running. This fact has
been familiar to the native for ages; consequently he provides in
time, and, while his crop is growing, prepares the next plot with axe
and firebrand. Next year he plants this with his various crops and
lets the first piece lie fallow. For a short time it remains waste and
desolate; then nature steps in to repair the destruction wrought by
man; a thousand new growths spring out of the exhausted soil, and
even the old stumps put forth fresh shoots. Next year the new growth
is up to one’s knees, and in a few years more it is that terrible,
impenetrable bush, which maintains its position till the black
occupier of the land has made the round of all the available sites and
come back to his starting point.
The Makonde are, body and soul, so to speak, one with this bush.
According to my Yao informants, indeed, their name means nothing
else but “bush people.” Their own tradition says that they have been
settled up here for a very long time, but to my surprise they laid great
stress on an original immigration. Their old homes were in the
south-east, near Mikindani and the mouth of the Rovuma, whence
their peaceful forefathers were driven by the continual raids of the
Sakalavas from Madagascar and the warlike Shirazis[47] of the coast,
to take refuge on the almost inaccessible plateau. I have studied
African ethnology for twenty years, but the fact that changes of
population in this apparently quiet and peaceable corner of the earth
could have been occasioned by outside enterprises taking place on
the high seas, was completely new to me. It is, no doubt, however,
correct.
The charming tribal legend of the Makonde—besides informing us
of other interesting matters—explains why they have to live in the
thickest of the bush and a long way from the edge of the plateau,
instead of making their permanent homes beside the purling brooks
and springs of the low country.
“The place where the tribe originated is Mahuta, on the southern
side of the plateau towards the Rovuma, where of old time there was
nothing but thick bush. Out of this bush came a man who never
washed himself or shaved his head, and who ate and drank but little.
He went out and made a human figure from the wood of a tree
growing in the open country, which he took home to his abode in the
bush and there set it upright. In the night this image came to life and
was a woman. The man and woman went down together to the
Rovuma to wash themselves. Here the woman gave birth to a still-
born child. They left that place and passed over the high land into the
valley of the Mbemkuru, where the woman had another child, which
was also born dead. Then they returned to the high bush country of
Mahuta, where the third child was born, which lived and grew up. In
course of time, the couple had many more children, and called
themselves Wamatanda. These were the ancestral stock of the
Makonde, also called Wamakonde,[48] i.e., aborigines. Their
forefather, the man from the bush, gave his children the command to
bury their dead upright, in memory of the mother of their race who
was cut out of wood and awoke to life when standing upright. He also
warned them against settling in the valleys and near large streams,
for sickness and death dwelt there. They were to make it a rule to
have their huts at least an hour’s walk from the nearest watering-
place; then their children would thrive and escape illness.”
The explanation of the name Makonde given by my informants is
somewhat different from that contained in the above legend, which I
extract from a little book (small, but packed with information), by
Pater Adams, entitled Lindi und sein Hinterland. Otherwise, my
results agree exactly with the statements of the legend. Washing?
Hapana—there is no such thing. Why should they do so? As it is, the
supply of water scarcely suffices for cooking and drinking; other
people do not wash, so why should the Makonde distinguish himself
by such needless eccentricity? As for shaving the head, the short,
woolly crop scarcely needs it,[49] so the second ancestral precept is
likewise easy enough to follow. Beyond this, however, there is
nothing ridiculous in the ancestor’s advice. I have obtained from
various local artists a fairly large number of figures carved in wood,
ranging from fifteen to twenty-three inches in height, and
representing women belonging to the great group of the Mavia,
Makonde, and Matambwe tribes. The carving is remarkably well
done and renders the female type with great accuracy, especially the
keloid ornamentation, to be described later on. As to the object and
meaning of their works the sculptors either could or (more probably)
would tell me nothing, and I was forced to content myself with the
scanty information vouchsafed by one man, who said that the figures
were merely intended to represent the nembo—the artificial
deformations of pelele, ear-discs, and keloids. The legend recorded
by Pater Adams places these figures in a new light. They must surely
be more than mere dolls; and we may even venture to assume that
they are—though the majority of present-day Makonde are probably
unaware of the fact—representations of the tribal ancestress.
The references in the legend to the descent from Mahuta to the
Rovuma, and to a journey across the highlands into the Mbekuru
valley, undoubtedly indicate the previous history of the tribe, the
travels of the ancestral pair typifying the migrations of their
descendants. The descent to the neighbouring Rovuma valley, with
its extraordinary fertility and great abundance of game, is intelligible
at a glance—but the crossing of the Lukuledi depression, the ascent
to the Rondo Plateau and the descent to the Mbemkuru, also lie
within the bounds of probability, for all these districts have exactly
the same character as the extreme south. Now, however, comes a
point of especial interest for our bacteriological age. The primitive
Makonde did not enjoy their lives in the marshy river-valleys.
Disease raged among them, and many died. It was only after they
had returned to their original home near Mahuta, that the health
conditions of these people improved. We are very apt to think of the
African as a stupid person whose ignorance of nature is only equalled
by his fear of it, and who looks on all mishaps as caused by evil
spirits and malignant natural powers. It is much more correct to
assume in this case that the people very early learnt to distinguish
districts infested with malaria from those where it is absent.
This knowledge is crystallized in the
ancestral warning against settling in the
valleys and near the great waters, the
dwelling-places of disease and death. At the
same time, for security against the hostile
Mavia south of the Rovuma, it was enacted
that every settlement must be not less than a
certain distance from the southern edge of the
plateau. Such in fact is their mode of life at the
present day. It is not such a bad one, and
certainly they are both safer and more
comfortable than the Makua, the recent
intruders from the south, who have made USUAL METHOD OF
good their footing on the western edge of the CLOSING HUT-DOOR
plateau, extending over a fairly wide belt of
country. Neither Makua nor Makonde show in their dwellings
anything of the size and comeliness of the Yao houses in the plain,
especially at Masasi, Chingulungulu and Zuza’s. Jumbe Chauro, a
Makonde hamlet not far from Newala, on the road to Mahuta, is the
most important settlement of the tribe I have yet seen, and has fairly
spacious huts. But how slovenly is their construction compared with
the palatial residences of the elephant-hunters living in the plain.
The roofs are still more untidy than in the general run of huts during
the dry season, the walls show here and there the scanty beginnings
or the lamentable remains of the mud plastering, and the interior is a
veritable dog-kennel; dirt, dust and disorder everywhere. A few huts
only show any attempt at division into rooms, and this consists
merely of very roughly-made bamboo partitions. In one point alone
have I noticed any indication of progress—in the method of fastening
the door. Houses all over the south are secured in a simple but
ingenious manner. The door consists of a set of stout pieces of wood
or bamboo, tied with bark-string to two cross-pieces, and moving in
two grooves round one of the door-posts, so as to open inwards. If
the owner wishes to leave home, he takes two logs as thick as a man’s
upper arm and about a yard long. One of these is placed obliquely
against the middle of the door from the inside, so as to form an angle
of from 60° to 75° with the ground. He then places the second piece
horizontally across the first, pressing it downward with all his might.
It is kept in place by two strong posts planted in the ground a few
inches inside the door. This fastening is absolutely safe, but of course
cannot be applied to both doors at once, otherwise how could the
owner leave or enter his house? I have not yet succeeded in finding
out how the back door is fastened.

MAKONDE LOCK AND KEY AT JUMBE CHAURO


This is the general way of closing a house. The Makonde at Jumbe
Chauro, however, have a much more complicated, solid and original
one. Here, too, the door is as already described, except that there is
only one post on the inside, standing by itself about six inches from
one side of the doorway. Opposite this post is a hole in the wall just
large enough to admit a man’s arm. The door is closed inside by a
large wooden bolt passing through a hole in this post and pressing
with its free end against the door. The other end has three holes into
which fit three pegs running in vertical grooves inside the post. The
door is opened with a wooden key about a foot long, somewhat
curved and sloped off at the butt; the other end has three pegs
corresponding to the holes, in the bolt, so that, when it is thrust
through the hole in the wall and inserted into the rectangular
opening in the post, the pegs can be lifted and the bolt drawn out.[50]

MODE OF INSERTING THE KEY

With no small pride first one householder and then a second


showed me on the spot the action of this greatest invention of the
Makonde Highlands. To both with an admiring exclamation of
“Vizuri sana!” (“Very fine!”). I expressed the wish to take back these
marvels with me to Ulaya, to show the Wazungu what clever fellows
the Makonde are. Scarcely five minutes after my return to camp at
Newala, the two men came up sweating under the weight of two
heavy logs which they laid down at my feet, handing over at the same
time the keys of the fallen fortress. Arguing, logically enough, that if
the key was wanted, the lock would be wanted with it, they had taken
their axes and chopped down the posts—as it never occurred to them
to dig them out of the ground and so bring them intact. Thus I have
two badly damaged specimens, and the owners, instead of praise,
come in for a blowing-up.
The Makua huts in the environs of Newala are especially
miserable; their more than slovenly construction reminds one of the
temporary erections of the Makua at Hatia’s, though the people here
have not been concerned in a war. It must therefore be due to
congenital idleness, or else to the absence of a powerful chief. Even
the baraza at Mlipa’s, a short hour’s walk south-east of Newala,
shares in this general neglect. While public buildings in this country
are usually looked after more or less carefully, this is in evident
danger of being blown over by the first strong easterly gale. The only
attractive object in this whole district is the grave of the late chief
Mlipa. I visited it in the morning, while the sun was still trying with
partial success to break through the rolling mists, and the circular
grove of tall euphorbias, which, with a broken pot, is all that marks
the old king’s resting-place, impressed one with a touch of pathos.
Even my very materially-minded carriers seemed to feel something
of the sort, for instead of their usual ribald songs, they chanted
solemnly, as we marched on through the dense green of the Makonde
bush:—
“We shall arrive with the great master; we stand in a row and have
no fear about getting our food and our money from the Serkali (the
Government). We are not afraid; we are going along with the great
master, the lion; we are going down to the coast and back.”
With regard to the characteristic features of the various tribes here
on the western edge of the plateau, I can arrive at no other
conclusion than the one already come to in the plain, viz., that it is
impossible for anyone but a trained anthropologist to assign any
given individual at once to his proper tribe. In fact, I think that even
an anthropological specialist, after the most careful examination,
might find it a difficult task to decide. The whole congeries of peoples
collected in the region bounded on the west by the great Central
African rift, Tanganyika and Nyasa, and on the east by the Indian
Ocean, are closely related to each other—some of their languages are
only distinguished from one another as dialects of the same speech,
and no doubt all the tribes present the same shape of skull and
structure of skeleton. Thus, surely, there can be no very striking
differences in outward appearance.
Even did such exist, I should have no time
to concern myself with them, for day after day,
I have to see or hear, as the case may be—in
any case to grasp and record—an
extraordinary number of ethnographic
phenomena. I am almost disposed to think it
fortunate that some departments of inquiry, at
least, are barred by external circumstances.
Chief among these is the subject of iron-
working. We are apt to think of Africa as a
country where iron ore is everywhere, so to
speak, to be picked up by the roadside, and
where it would be quite surprising if the
inhabitants had not learnt to smelt the
material ready to their hand. In fact, the
knowledge of this art ranges all over the
continent, from the Kabyles in the north to the
Kafirs in the south. Here between the Rovuma
and the Lukuledi the conditions are not so
favourable. According to the statements of the
Makonde, neither ironstone nor any other
form of iron ore is known to them. They have
not therefore advanced to the art of smelting
the metal, but have hitherto bought all their
THE ANCESTRESS OF
THE MAKONDE
iron implements from neighbouring tribes.
Even in the plain the inhabitants are not much
better off. Only one man now living is said to
understand the art of smelting iron. This old fundi lives close to
Huwe, that isolated, steep-sided block of granite which rises out of
the green solitude between Masasi and Chingulungulu, and whose
jagged and splintered top meets the traveller’s eye everywhere. While
still at Masasi I wished to see this man at work, but was told that,
frightened by the rising, he had retired across the Rovuma, though
he would soon return. All subsequent inquiries as to whether the
fundi had come back met with the genuine African answer, “Bado”
(“Not yet”).
BRAZIER

Some consolation was afforded me by a brassfounder, whom I


came across in the bush near Akundonde’s. This man is the favourite
of women, and therefore no doubt of the gods; he welds the glittering
brass rods purchased at the coast into those massive, heavy rings
which, on the wrists and ankles of the local fair ones, continually give
me fresh food for admiration. Like every decent master-craftsman he
had all his tools with him, consisting of a pair of bellows, three
crucibles and a hammer—nothing more, apparently. He was quite
willing to show his skill, and in a twinkling had fixed his bellows on
the ground. They are simply two goat-skins, taken off whole, the four
legs being closed by knots, while the upper opening, intended to
admit the air, is kept stretched by two pieces of wood. At the lower
end of the skin a smaller opening is left into which a wooden tube is
stuck. The fundi has quickly borrowed a heap of wood-embers from
the nearest hut; he then fixes the free ends of the two tubes into an
earthen pipe, and clamps them to the ground by means of a bent
piece of wood. Now he fills one of his small clay crucibles, the dross
on which shows that they have been long in use, with the yellow
material, places it in the midst of the embers, which, at present are
only faintly glimmering, and begins his work. In quick alternation
the smith’s two hands move up and down with the open ends of the
bellows; as he raises his hand he holds the slit wide open, so as to let
the air enter the skin bag unhindered. In pressing it down he closes
the bag, and the air puffs through the bamboo tube and clay pipe into
the fire, which quickly burns up. The smith, however, does not keep
on with this work, but beckons to another man, who relieves him at
the bellows, while he takes some more tools out of a large skin pouch
carried on his back. I look on in wonder as, with a smooth round
stick about the thickness of a finger, he bores a few vertical holes into
the clean sand of the soil. This should not be difficult, yet the man
seems to be taking great pains over it. Then he fastens down to the
ground, with a couple of wooden clamps, a neat little trough made by
splitting a joint of bamboo in half, so that the ends are closed by the
two knots. At last the yellow metal has attained the right consistency,
and the fundi lifts the crucible from the fire by means of two sticks
split at the end to serve as tongs. A short swift turn to the left—a
tilting of the crucible—and the molten brass, hissing and giving forth
clouds of smoke, flows first into the bamboo mould and then into the
holes in the ground.
The technique of this backwoods craftsman may not be very far
advanced, but it cannot be denied that he knows how to obtain an
adequate result by the simplest means. The ladies of highest rank in
this country—that is to say, those who can afford it, wear two kinds
of these massive brass rings, one cylindrical, the other semicircular
in section. The latter are cast in the most ingenious way in the
bamboo mould, the former in the circular hole in the sand. It is quite
a simple matter for the fundi to fit these bars to the limbs of his fair
customers; with a few light strokes of his hammer he bends the
pliable brass round arm or ankle without further inconvenience to
the wearer.
SHAPING THE POT

SMOOTHING WITH MAIZE-COB

CUTTING THE EDGE


FINISHING THE BOTTOM

LAST SMOOTHING BEFORE


BURNING

FIRING THE BRUSH-PILE


LIGHTING THE FARTHER SIDE OF
THE PILE

TURNING THE RED-HOT VESSEL

NYASA WOMAN MAKING POTS AT MASASI


Pottery is an art which must always and everywhere excite the
interest of the student, just because it is so intimately connected with
the development of human culture, and because its relics are one of
the principal factors in the reconstruction of our own condition in
prehistoric times. I shall always remember with pleasure the two or
three afternoons at Masasi when Salim Matola’s mother, a slightly-
built, graceful, pleasant-looking woman, explained to me with
touching patience, by means of concrete illustrations, the ceramic art
of her people. The only implements for this primitive process were a
lump of clay in her left hand, and in the right a calabash containing
the following valuables: the fragment of a maize-cob stripped of all
its grains, a smooth, oval pebble, about the size of a pigeon’s egg, a
few chips of gourd-shell, a bamboo splinter about the length of one’s
hand, a small shell, and a bunch of some herb resembling spinach.
Nothing more. The woman scraped with the
shell a round, shallow hole in the soft, fine
sand of the soil, and, when an active young
girl had filled the calabash with water for her,
she began to knead the clay. As if by magic it
gradually assumed the shape of a rough but
already well-shaped vessel, which only wanted
a little touching up with the instruments
before mentioned. I looked out with the
MAKUA WOMAN closest attention for any indication of the use
MAKING A POT. of the potter’s wheel, in however rudimentary
SHOWS THE a form, but no—hapana (there is none). The
BEGINNINGS OF THE embryo pot stood firmly in its little
POTTER’S WHEEL
depression, and the woman walked round it in
a stooping posture, whether she was removing
small stones or similar foreign bodies with the maize-cob, smoothing
the inner or outer surface with the splinter of bamboo, or later, after
letting it dry for a day, pricking in the ornamentation with a pointed
bit of gourd-shell, or working out the bottom, or cutting the edge
with a sharp bamboo knife, or giving the last touches to the finished
vessel. This occupation of the women is infinitely toilsome, but it is
without doubt an accurate reproduction of the process in use among
our ancestors of the Neolithic and Bronze ages.
There is no doubt that the invention of pottery, an item in human
progress whose importance cannot be over-estimated, is due to
women. Rough, coarse and unfeeling, the men of the horde range
over the countryside. When the united cunning of the hunters has
succeeded in killing the game; not one of them thinks of carrying
home the spoil. A bright fire, kindled by a vigorous wielding of the
drill, is crackling beside them; the animal has been cleaned and cut
up secundum artem, and, after a slight singeing, will soon disappear
under their sharp teeth; no one all this time giving a single thought
to wife or child.
To what shifts, on the other hand, the primitive wife, and still more
the primitive mother, was put! Not even prehistoric stomachs could
endure an unvarying diet of raw food. Something or other suggested
the beneficial effect of hot water on the majority of approved but
indigestible dishes. Perhaps a neighbour had tried holding the hard
roots or tubers over the fire in a calabash filled with water—or maybe
an ostrich-egg-shell, or a hastily improvised vessel of bark. They
became much softer and more palatable than they had previously
been; but, unfortunately, the vessel could not stand the fire and got
charred on the outside. That can be remedied, thought our
ancestress, and plastered a layer of wet clay round a similar vessel.
This is an improvement; the cooking utensil remains uninjured, but
the heat of the fire has shrunk it, so that it is loose in its shell. The
next step is to detach it, so, with a firm grip and a jerk, shell and
kernel are separated, and pottery is invented. Perhaps, however, the
discovery which led to an intelligent use of the burnt-clay shell, was
made in a slightly different way. Ostrich-eggs and calabashes are not
to be found in every part of the world, but everywhere mankind has
arrived at the art of making baskets out of pliant materials, such as
bark, bast, strips of palm-leaf, supple twigs, etc. Our inventor has no
water-tight vessel provided by nature. “Never mind, let us line the
basket with clay.” This answers the purpose, but alas! the basket gets
burnt over the blazing fire, the woman watches the process of
cooking with increasing uneasiness, fearing a leak, but no leak
appears. The food, done to a turn, is eaten with peculiar relish; and
the cooking-vessel is examined, half in curiosity, half in satisfaction
at the result. The plastic clay is now hard as stone, and at the same
time looks exceedingly well, for the neat plaiting of the burnt basket
is traced all over it in a pretty pattern. Thus, simultaneously with
pottery, its ornamentation was invented.
Primitive woman has another claim to respect. It was the man,
roving abroad, who invented the art of producing fire at will, but the
woman, unable to imitate him in this, has been a Vestal from the
earliest times. Nothing gives so much trouble as the keeping alight of
the smouldering brand, and, above all, when all the men are absent
from the camp. Heavy rain-clouds gather, already the first large
drops are falling, the first gusts of the storm rage over the plain. The
little flame, a greater anxiety to the woman than her own children,
flickers unsteadily in the blast. What is to be done? A sudden thought
occurs to her, and in an instant she has constructed a primitive hut
out of strips of bark, to protect the flame against rain and wind.
This, or something very like it, was the way in which the principle
of the house was discovered; and even the most hardened misogynist
cannot fairly refuse a woman the credit of it. The protection of the
hearth-fire from the weather is the germ from which the human
dwelling was evolved. Men had little, if any share, in this forward
step, and that only at a late stage. Even at the present day, the
plastering of the housewall with clay and the manufacture of pottery
are exclusively the women’s business. These are two very significant
survivals. Our European kitchen-garden, too, is originally a woman’s
invention, and the hoe, the primitive instrument of agriculture, is,
characteristically enough, still used in this department. But the
noblest achievement which we owe to the other sex is unquestionably
the art of cookery. Roasting alone—the oldest process—is one for
which men took the hint (a very obvious one) from nature. It must
have been suggested by the scorched carcase of some animal
overtaken by the destructive forest-fires. But boiling—the process of
improving organic substances by the help of water heated to boiling-
point—is a much later discovery. It is so recent that it has not even
yet penetrated to all parts of the world. The Polynesians understand
how to steam food, that is, to cook it, neatly wrapped in leaves, in a
hole in the earth between hot stones, the air being excluded, and
(sometimes) a few drops of water sprinkled on the stones; but they
do not understand boiling.
To come back from this digression, we find that the slender Nyasa
woman has, after once more carefully examining the finished pot,
put it aside in the shade to dry. On the following day she sends me
word by her son, Salim Matola, who is always on hand, that she is
going to do the burning, and, on coming out of my house, I find her
already hard at work. She has spread on the ground a layer of very
dry sticks, about as thick as one’s thumb, has laid the pot (now of a
yellowish-grey colour) on them, and is piling brushwood round it.
My faithful Pesa mbili, the mnyampara, who has been standing by,
most obligingly, with a lighted stick, now hands it to her. Both of
them, blowing steadily, light the pile on the lee side, and, when the
flame begins to catch, on the weather side also. Soon the whole is in a
blaze, but the dry fuel is quickly consumed and the fire dies down, so
that we see the red-hot vessel rising from the ashes. The woman
turns it continually with a long stick, sometimes one way and
sometimes another, so that it may be evenly heated all over. In
twenty minutes she rolls it out of the ash-heap, takes up the bundle
of spinach, which has been lying for two days in a jar of water, and
sprinkles the red-hot clay with it. The places where the drops fall are
marked by black spots on the uniform reddish-brown surface. With a
sigh of relief, and with visible satisfaction, the woman rises to an
erect position; she is standing just in a line between me and the fire,
from which a cloud of smoke is just rising: I press the ball of my
camera, the shutter clicks—the apotheosis is achieved! Like a
priestess, representative of her inventive sex, the graceful woman
stands: at her feet the hearth-fire she has given us beside her the
invention she has devised for us, in the background the home she has
built for us.
At Newala, also, I have had the manufacture of pottery carried on
in my presence. Technically the process is better than that already
described, for here we find the beginnings of the potter’s wheel,
which does not seem to exist in the plains; at least I have seen
nothing of the sort. The artist, a frightfully stupid Makua woman, did
not make a depression in the ground to receive the pot she was about
to shape, but used instead a large potsherd. Otherwise, she went to
work in much the same way as Salim’s mother, except that she saved
herself the trouble of walking round and round her work by squatting
at her ease and letting the pot and potsherd rotate round her; this is
surely the first step towards a machine. But it does not follow that
the pot was improved by the process. It is true that it was beautifully
rounded and presented a very creditable appearance when finished,
but the numerous large and small vessels which I have seen, and, in
part, collected, in the “less advanced” districts, are no less so. We
moderns imagine that instruments of precision are necessary to
produce excellent results. Go to the prehistoric collections of our
museums and look at the pots, urns and bowls of our ancestors in the
dim ages of the past, and you will at once perceive your error.
MAKING LONGITUDINAL CUT IN
BARK

DRAWING THE BARK OFF THE LOG

REMOVING THE OUTER BARK


BEATING THE BARK

WORKING THE BARK-CLOTH AFTER BEATING, TO MAKE IT


SOFT

MANUFACTURE OF BARK-CLOTH AT NEWALA


To-day, nearly the whole population of German East Africa is
clothed in imported calico. This was not always the case; even now in
some parts of the north dressed skins are still the prevailing wear,
and in the north-western districts—east and north of Lake
Tanganyika—lies a zone where bark-cloth has not yet been
superseded. Probably not many generations have passed since such
bark fabrics and kilts of skins were the only clothing even in the
south. Even to-day, large quantities of this bright-red or drab
material are still to be found; but if we wish to see it, we must look in
the granaries and on the drying stages inside the native huts, where
it serves less ambitious uses as wrappings for those seeds and fruits
which require to be packed with special care. The salt produced at
Masasi, too, is packed for transport to a distance in large sheets of
bark-cloth. Wherever I found it in any degree possible, I studied the
process of making this cloth. The native requisitioned for the
purpose arrived, carrying a log between two and three yards long and
as thick as his thigh, and nothing else except a curiously-shaped
mallet and the usual long, sharp and pointed knife which all men and
boys wear in a belt at their backs without a sheath—horribile dictu!
[51]
Silently he squats down before me, and with two rapid cuts has
drawn a couple of circles round the log some two yards apart, and
slits the bark lengthwise between them with the point of his knife.
With evident care, he then scrapes off the outer rind all round the
log, so that in a quarter of an hour the inner red layer of the bark
shows up brightly-coloured between the two untouched ends. With
some trouble and much caution, he now loosens the bark at one end,
and opens the cylinder. He then stands up, takes hold of the free
edge with both hands, and turning it inside out, slowly but steadily
pulls it off in one piece. Now comes the troublesome work of
scraping all superfluous particles of outer bark from the outside of
the long, narrow piece of material, while the inner side is carefully
scrutinised for defective spots. At last it is ready for beating. Having
signalled to a friend, who immediately places a bowl of water beside
him, the artificer damps his sheet of bark all over, seizes his mallet,
lays one end of the stuff on the smoothest spot of the log, and
hammers away slowly but continuously. “Very simple!” I think to
myself. “Why, I could do that, too!”—but I am forced to change my
opinions a little later on; for the beating is quite an art, if the fabric is
not to be beaten to pieces. To prevent the breaking of the fibres, the
stuff is several times folded across, so as to interpose several
thicknesses between the mallet and the block. At last the required
state is reached, and the fundi seizes the sheet, still folded, by both
ends, and wrings it out, or calls an assistant to take one end while he
holds the other. The cloth produced in this way is not nearly so fine
and uniform in texture as the famous Uganda bark-cloth, but it is
quite soft, and, above all, cheap.
Now, too, I examine the mallet. My craftsman has been using the
simpler but better form of this implement, a conical block of some
hard wood, its base—the striking surface—being scored across and
across with more or less deeply-cut grooves, and the handle stuck
into a hole in the middle. The other and earlier form of mallet is
shaped in the same way, but the head is fastened by an ingenious
network of bark strips into the split bamboo serving as a handle. The
observation so often made, that ancient customs persist longest in
connection with religious ceremonies and in the life of children, here
finds confirmation. As we shall soon see, bark-cloth is still worn
during the unyago,[52] having been prepared with special solemn
ceremonies; and many a mother, if she has no other garment handy,
will still put her little one into a kilt of bark-cloth, which, after all,
looks better, besides being more in keeping with its African
surroundings, than the ridiculous bit of print from Ulaya.
MAKUA WOMEN

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