Showing posts with label comm studies. Show all posts
Showing posts with label comm studies. Show all posts

Thursday, May 01, 2008

Course Encyclopaedia--Even MORE

Badiou, Alain. Being and Event. Trans. Oliver Feltham. London: Continuum, 2007.



The Multiple

"In sum, the multiple is the regime of presentation; the one, in respect to presentation, is an operational result; being is what presents (itself)" (24). The multiple, as a presented element, is also counted. Thus, a mulitple is what gets counted in the count.

"There is another way of putting this: the multiple is the inertia which can be retroactively discerned starting from teh fact that the operation of the count-as-one must effectively operate in order for there to be Oneness" (25). To me, this makes the most sense mathematically. If we consider set theory as mathematicians do, sets are sets of numbers that are grouped according to a common rule (or two or three). These numbers in the set (what B calls "multiples") must fit into the rule to make the set "true"--to fit the definition. If we say "the set of all odd integers", we are giving not only a structure to the set, but anticipating what will be in the set. If we were mathematicians, we'd say that the set of all odd integers is represented by 2n +1--and the formula given allows for an infinity of multiples, and allows us to anticipate what is to come. The count is an effect of this formula, since the formula itself is what first determines what belongs to the "set of all odd integers". Of course, this formula itself can be counted, and the set of all odd integers has other subsets within it (including the elusive "set of all prime numbers"). In math, structure and the count are both easily represented formulaically, and we can predict easily what belongs once that formula can be found (except for the prime numbers one. Damn). Humans are not so easy to order with shorthand.


The One

"The one is not" (23). In "deciding" upon the problem of Western metaphysics ("what presents itself is essentially multiple; what presents itself is essentially one"), Badiou declares that the One--that is, the essence of Being, the unpresented Platonic Ideal, is not. Or, in English, that the unpresented Whole, is not available to us without first there being the parts (multiples) which are presented, which present "being" by there mere presence in our field of vision. Or hearing. Or some other method of witnessing.


"The fact that the one is an operation allows us to say that the domain of the operation is not one" (24). The one is a function of the count in that in counting what is present, we are presented with presentation--which is being itself.


Situation

"I term situation any presented multiplicity.....Every situation admits its own particular operator of the count-as-one. This is the mpost general definition of a structure it is what prescribes, for a presented multiple, teh regime of its count-as-one" (24).

"Yet there is no situation without the effect of the count, and therefore it is correct to state that presentation, as such, in regard to number, is multiple" (25).

Count-as-one (compter-pour-l'un)

See Situation, above. The presented multiples must be counted. The count-as-one also forms the structure of the situation, is a definitional operation. It includes or excludes.
Presentation/Unpresentable/Re-presentation


"Structure is what obliges us to consider....that presentation is a multiple...and what authorizes us, via anticipation to compse the terms of the presentation as units of a multiple" (25). The structure, the formula, is what enables us to see that the set of all integers (the One, being) is Not--that there is only the multiples that occur after the count, after the presentation of examples (multiples, elements) that belong to a given set.

"...for presence is the exact contrary of presentation" (27). Presence is the Being that Plato imagines--being qua being. Presentation, however, is one step removed; it's the expression (interesting word, considering B avoids talking about the symbolic) of that ultimate Being. Presence's definition contains within it the idea that it cannot be presented--the English term uses the past participle for a reason, to show some kind of transformation has taken place, some displacement occurs from the original (Present) to the new form (presentED). Further:

"If there connot be a presentation ofbeing because being occurs in every presentation--and this is why it does not present itself--then there is one solution left for us: that the ontological situation be the presentation of presentation" (27). The situation (the count of, the structure of) being must have presentation within it, but what is it presenting, if not being itself (since being can't be presented?) It is presenting the very idea of presentation--which, again, contains within it the idea of some original Presence somewhere. Or when.


The Void
"...every situation implies the nothing of its all. But the nothing is neither a place nor a term of the situation. For if nothing were a term that could only mean one thing; that it had been counted as one" (54). Every situation contains within it this void because "there is a being of nothing, as a form of the unpresentable" (in order to include, there must also be an exclusion. Every presentable, counted element of a situation also has an unpresented, unpresentable part that is the Being, the one, that is the operational result of the count-as-one) (54).

"The 'nothing' is what names the unperceivable gap, cancelled then renewed between presentation as structure and presentation as structured-presentation, between the one as result and the one as operation" (54). See my above comment.

"By itself, the nothing is no more than the name of unpresentation in presentation" (55). As we discussed in class, the void has only one element--it's name, which names all of the unpresentables as unpresentable.

"I term void of a situation this suture to being. Moreover, I state that every structural presentation unpresents 'its' void, in the mode of this non-one which is merely the subtractive face of the count" (55). The void is a result of a subtraction ( 0 only exists as x - x), the subtraction of the inconsistent multiple from the consistent--or is it the other way around?


"It is essential to remember that no term within a situation designtes the void" (56). It's not surprising, then, that the state is unable to name revolutions as such.

"The void is what bounds the inconceivable, and thereby forecloses itself from any other relation, including its self-identity" (Barker. Alain Badiou: A Critical Introduction. London: Pluto Press, 2002, P. 5).



Event

And names: "The event has the nameless as its name: it is with regard to everything that happens that one can only say what it is by referring to its unknown Soldier" (205). The event, at the edge of the void, cannot be recognized by the state, for fear of the unpresented mass of the void. The name of the event is important, then, for what it can tell us about the multiples involved.

And the state: "The event occurs for the state as the being of an enigma" (208). The state, again, cannot recognize the event for what it is because the situation does not count the unpresented.


The evental site is "an entirely abnormal multiple, that is, a mulitple such that none of its elements are presented in the situation" (175). None of the elements of the site are presented, are not part of the legitimated count--thus, this is the space of possibility.

Course Encyclopaedia--More!

Bourdieu, Pierre. Language and Symbolic Power. Cambridge: Harvard U Press, 1991.


  1. Field

  2. Captial, types of

  3. Habitus

  4. Symbolic Power






Field


Definition "The purpose of Bourdieu's concept of field is to provide the frame for a 'relational analysis,' by which he means an account of the multi-dimensional space of positions and the position taking of agents" (Postone, LiPuma, and Calhoun 5).

As structuralist? "Here Bourdieu reveals the structuralist underpinnings of his theory. He posits that the field is not ontologicaly grounded, but rather constituted of ever-changing relations--it is not a static thing, but a dynamic process, in which fluid relationality is the source of structure. He also refers to a universal aspect of all fields, cultural and otherwise: each involves specific forms of capital, which the agents aim to accumulate and increase through their varying 'strategies'" (Hipsky 192).

Field, then, is somewhat similar to the field (champs) that Foucault describes--it is not simply there, but a construct of relationships. For Bourdieu, these relationships are economical (in that they relate to forms of exchange for strategic purposes).


Political fields: These specific fields are "the site in which, through the competition between the agents involved in it, political products, issues, programmes, analyses, commentaries, concepts and events are created--products between which ordinary citizens, reduced to the status of 'consumers', have to choose, thereby running a risk of misunderstanding that is all the greater the further they are from the field of production. (Bourdieu 172)

Bourdieu widens the political field to not only politicians, but discourse about politics (as long as that discourse comes from an authorized subject).


Capital, types of


Definition of: "Bourdieu's notion of capital, which is neither Marxian nor formal economic, entails the capacity to exercise control over one's own future and that of others" (Postone, LiPuma, and Calhoun 4).

Capital seems related to agency and power (pouvoir); how it differs from either of these is unclear to me.

Symbolic capital: "...functions to mask the economic domination of the dominant class and socially legitimate hierarchy by essentializing and naturalizing social position" (Postone, LiPuma, and Calhoun 5).

Why is symbolic capital special? "Symbolic capital might thus be said to have a dialectical relationship with the other forms of capital; as a concept it underscores the fact that none of the positive properties that circulate on the literary field ever permanently or objectively inhere in any of the individuals, groups, works, or literary forms that are held to partake of those properties" (Hipsky 192).

Symbolic capital is a mystifying (a la Marx) force--it allows us to misrecognize the other forms of capital as natural or necessary.


Habitus


Definition: "Bourdieu characterizes the habitus as a system of general generative schemes that are both durable (inscribed in the social construction of the self) and transposable (from one field to another), function on an unconscious plane, and take place within a structured space of possibilities (defined by the intersection of material conditions and fields of operation (Postone, LiPuma, and Calhoun 4).

What it does: "Between the social structure and agents there is a high degree of correspondence, mediated and generated by the habitus. It is through the dispositions inculcated in the habitus as these unfold in the structural space of possibility that the relationship of individuals to a social structure is objectively coordinated....The possibility of historical change rests in the limited conjucture between a social structure and the actions of agents as mediated by the habitus" (LiPuma 16).

LiPuma posits the possibility of change as a side effect of habitus--habitus mediates between structural determinism and the free will of agents.


Symbolic Power

Symbolic power is created and maintained through structuring structures and structured structures.Symbols are imbued with associations, connotations, and thus power because of the symbolic system they arise from; these powers allow those in dominant positions to hold symbolic capital.

"Structuring Structures": Associated with the "neo-Kantian" tradition: the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis, Durkheim, and in many ways Foucault, as "treats the different symbolic universes...as instruments for knowing and constructing the world of objects" (Bourdieu 164).


i.e. We use these structures to construct the mental and physical objects, to create world views.

"Structured Structures": Associated with the semiotics of Levi-Strauss and traditional structuralism. The always/already present structure is what creates meaning from symbols. (Bourdieu 166). Both Structuring and Structured structures only work by social consensus--insofar as subjects submit themselves to the symbolic power that emerges as a result of the system. Dominant classes use this symbolic power in the creation and maintenance of ideologies (a la Marx).

Wednesday, April 30, 2008

Course Encyclopaedia, continued

Foucault, Parts 3 and 4 (The Statement and the Archive and Archaeological Description).


Terms for this section








Statement

In French: l'énoncé, the said. Past participle of enoncer. Other uses: "Wording", "Utterance", "lecture", "declaration", "exposition"


What an énoncé is not: "We have put to one side, not in a definitive way, but for a time and out of methodological rigour, the traditional unities of hte book and the oeuvre; that we have ceased to accept as a principle of unity the laws of constructing discourse...or the situation of the speaking subject...; that we no longer related discourse to the primary ground of experience, nor the a priori authority of knowledge" (79).
And/nor: "I do not think that the necessary and sufficient condition of a statement is the presence of a defined propositional structure, or that one can speak of a statement only when there is a proposition" (80).
And: Statements can sort of be seen as a "sentence" bu "the equivalence is far from being a total one; and it is relatively easy to cite statements that do not correspond to the linguistic structure of sentences" (82).
It is also not "an act of formulation--something like the speech act referred to by the English analysts" (82-83).


Relationship to Burke: "...whether, while analyzing 'objects' or 'concepts,' let alone 'strategies', I was in fact still speaking of statements" (79-80).


An attempt at definition: "Must we admit that any series of signs, figures, marks, or traces--whatever their organization of probablity may be--is enough to constitute a statement .....? In which case, we would have to admit there is a statement whenever a number of signs are juxtaposed--or even, perhaps--when there is a single sign. The threshold of the statement is the threshold of the existence of signs" (84). This is still problematic, because MF is trying to talk about statements without talking about the situation or linguistic system (system of differences) or something external to the enunciative moment--and yet, "signs" are only signs in that they are agreed-upon substitutions for the signified. As he says, "If there were no statements, the language (langue) would not exist" (since language systems are rules based on acceptable statements). So clearly he must try again:


The statement is a unique formation, "neither entirely linguistic, nor exclusively material"; instead, it is "caught up...in a logical, grammatical, locutory nexus. It is not so much one element among others, a division that can be located at a certain level of analysis....it is a function of existence that properly belongs to signs and on the basis of which one may then decide, through analysis or intuition, whether or not they 'make sense', according to what rule they foolow one another or are juxtaposed, of what they are the sign, and what sort of act is carried out by their formulation" (86-87).


Relationship to the referent: "A statement is not confronted...by a correlate--or by the absence of a correlate as a proposition has (or has not) a referent....It is linked rather to a 'referential' that is made up not of 'things', 'facts', 'realities', or 'beings', but of laws of possibility, rules of existence for the objects that are named, designated, or described within it, and for the relations that are affirmed or denied in it" (91). In this description, there seems to be something logically prior to the statement that allows it to mean--things are named--this implies someone doing the naming in the past, some consensus on what counts or doesn't count as a "thing" that can be discussed, about which something can be said (énoncé).


And, at last, the clearest definition: "We will call statement that modality of existence proper to that group of signs: a modality that allows it to be something more than a series of traces, something more than a succession of marks on a substance, something more than a mere object made by a human being; a modality that allows it to be in relation wtih a domain of objects, to prescribe a definite position to any possible subject to be situated among other verbal performances, and to be endowed with a repeatable materiality" (107). My emphasis here--the statement positions us--it Situates us. Hence, "situation", the way things are positioned in relation to one another. These positions are hard to imagine, to theorize (to See) without imagining a corresponding space/time, and it is tempting to map these situations onto a geographical map or a timeline. To Place. But while some situations are dependent on physical space or "real time", some are not. My relationship to my father is a situation, a "placement" of subject positions created by our statements to and about each other, but these cannot be mapped onto a map of Ohio or Indiana. Likewise, statements made online cannot be mapped onto the space of the internet, despite our attempts to call them websites or William Gibson's dream of a navagatable matrix that corresponded exactly to ISP locations of servers. As a non-spatial person, I am most bothered by the attempts to describe all of these philosophical and theoretical concepts in terms of space, or diagrams or flow charts: I'm afraid this adds extra elements or makes relationships far more descrete and finite than they really are.

Enough ranting.


Genre [See also Genre in contemporary rhetorical theory]

MF seems to avoid the subject of "genre" as we think of it, probably because naming and thinking of things in terms of genres is itself a unique aspect of our discursive field. Still, there are times when his discussion of "discursive field" seems to border on what we call "genre"--something that is regular, with rules, but formed from the mass of statements. An appropriate response, if you will.

Use of Genre: When discussing the difference between statements and propositional structures, MF finds that two similar sentences, while propositionally the same, are quite different statements: "If one finds the formulation 'No one heard' in the first line of a novel, we know, until a new order merges, that it is an observation made either by the author, or the character (aloud or in the form of an interior monologue); if one finds the second forumulation, 'It is true that no one heard', one can only be in a group of statements constituting an interior monologue, a silent discussion with oneself, or a fragment of dialogue, a group of questions and answers" (81). Here, the placement of the statement in a novel matters: the statement would belong to quite a different discursive formation if it were found, say, in a newspaper, or between friends. Genres, for MF, seem to be here to help us analysts limit the possibilites when we encounter a new statement. We use the idea of "genre" to limit the possible discursive field the statement could belong to, but this does not mean that genre and discursive field are the same thing, for the discursive field of, say, nursing, has many genres involved. Some discursive fields are named for the genres that seem to dominate them (although, I assume, that any genre can participate in the formation of the discourse surrounding an object, subject, or idea). Genres, for Foucault, seem to be more for the analyst--something after the fact that we construct to help us better talk about the rules of formation with some regularity (instead of spinning off into a million clauses as Foucault finds himself doing). In Burkeian terms, we have the recurring situation of needing to discuss the rules that govern statements belonging to a particular discursive formation, and so we create a proverb, a strategy, a Name that can stand as short hand for all of those rules, contexts, authorities, etc that are part of the statement. Archaeology, then, is undoing this naming process, translating this shorthand back into its original grammar and signs.

A discursive formation is not a genre: A discursive formation does "not form a rhetorical or formal unity", but it is "made up of a limited number of statemetns for which a group of conditions of existence can be defined. Discourse in this sense is not an ideal, timeless form that also possesses a history; the problem is not therefore to ask oneself how and why it was able to emerge and become embodied at this point in time...." (117). Genre study, however, does try to trace the evolution of the genre--which, as Carolyn Miller notes, carries with it the assumption that the genre is now "fixed" ("ideal, timeless form"), that it is a Thing, not a process. Unlike genre, discursive formation does not address a rhetorical or formal unity--while Miller attempts to downplay the requirement of "formal" by moving genre into the realm of social action and speech act theory, there is still a rhetoricality to those things we call genre--a repeatablility, something that can be templated and parodied.

Relationship to Archaeology:

"Archaeology does not describe disciplines. At most, such disciplines may, in their manifest deployment, serve as starting-points for the description of positivities; but they do not fix its limits: they do not impose definitive divisions upon it; at the end of the analysis they do not re-emerge in the same state in which they enteredc it; one cannot establish a bi-univocal relation between established disciplines and discursive formations" (178-9). If by "discipline" he means "statements recognized belonging to the discipline, what I describe above as the dominant forms that help us identify a discourse formation, then clearly he is saying that genre--disciplined texts, texts of a discipline--analysis is different from what he calls archaeology.


Subject [See also Subjectivity from Parts II and III]

Relationship to statement: "A statement also differs from any series of linguistic elements by virtue of the fact that it possesses a particular relation with a subject" (92).

"We must not, in fact, reduce the subject of the statemetn to the first-person grammatical elements that are present within the sentence" (92). And thus, the author dies.


"Is not this subject exterior to the sentence quite simply the individual who spoke or wrote those words? As we know, there can be no signs without someone, or atelast something, to emit them. For a series of signs to exist, there must--in accordance with the system of causality--be an 'author' or a transmitting authority. But this author is not identical with the subject of the statement; and the relation of production that he has with the formulation is not superposable to the relation that unites the enunciateing subject and what he states" (92).

Foucault on Free Indirect Discourse (a literary theory term, style indirect libre): In a novel, we know there is an author whose "name" (George Eliot? Currier Bell?) appears somewhere on the cover. But there are many problems with simply attributing all sentences in the novel to the person who gets paid all the royalties: "(...we are still faced with teh problem of the dialogue, and the sentences purporting to express the thoughts of a character; we are still faced iwth the problem of texts published under a pseudonym: and we know all the difficulties that these duplications raise for practitioners of interperative anlaysis when they wish to relate these formations, en bloc, to the author of the text, what he [sic] wanted to say, to what he[sic] thought, in short, to that great, silent, hidden, uniform discourse on which they build that whole pyramid of different levels); but, even apart from those authorities of formulation that are not identical with the individual/author, the statemetns of the novel do not have the same subject which they provide when they describe things as they would be seen by an anonymous, invisible, neutral individual, who moves magically among the characters of the novel, or when they provide, as if by an immediate, internal decipherment, the verbal version of what is silently experienced by a character" (93). A long quote, yes, but important for those of us concerned with narrative voice in 18th and 19th C novels. The "Free Indirect Discourse" utilized best by Jane Austen is a rhetorical puzzle that many literary scholars try to PoMo their way out of by using the Death of the Author and Foucualt's comments on the author as function. But Foucault here is only pointing out what is bothering the critics in the first place: This other voice that interrupts the normal direct/indirect quote diad is not that of the author, and it is not enough to simply call it part of the author function and throw it away. I want to think through what this not-author, not-narrator voice does to the reader reading. How does it change the truth-value, the "realism" of the novel? How does it try to mold the inner reading voice of the reader to that of this non-author narrator?

The subject, the situation, and the statement: The ennunciative function is not "some additional relation that is superimposed on the others, one cannot say a sentence, one cannot transform it into a statement, unless a collateral space is brought into operation. A statement always has borders peopled by other statements. These borders are not what is usually meant by 'context'--real or verbal--that is, all the situational or linguistic elements taken together that motivate a formulation and determine its meaning" (97). The statement is something other than a sentence said in the right kind of "situation" (as Bitzer imagines there are rhetorical and non-rhetorical ones). What sets a statement apart is that it is unique, although connected to other statements--but these situations are not what "motivates" (as in exigency) a statement to arise. Nor is there any speaking subject bringing it into being, declaring it a statement and thus making it so--"it is not simply the manipulation by a speaking subject of a number of elements and linguistic rules" (99). Nope. Not Bitzer at all.

When analyzing statements we must "operate thereofre with out reference to a cogito." This analysis "does not pose the question of the speaking subject, who reveals or who conceals himself in what he says, who, in speaking, exercises his sovereign freedom, or who, without realizing it, subjects himself to constraints of which he is only dimly aware" (121). In a single sentence, Foucault does away with most of the assumptions that went into Bitzer's rhetorical situation, which required a speaking subject who evaluated the exigencies, tailored a speech to his audience (yes! His!), according to constraints such as genre, time, space, ethos, etc. To analyze the nature of, the thing behind (sub-stance?) a statement, then, we should not analyze it via Bitzer's hermeneutic.


Authority
"...the materiality of the statement is not defined the space occupied...but rather by its status as a thing or object.....we know, for example, that for literary historians the edition of a book published with the agreement of the author does not have the same status as posthumous editions, that the statements in it have a unique value..." (102). This unique value, however, comes not from the authority of the author, but the authority of the institutions of Literary History that bestow that unique value on special editions. The reason why, MF implies, we do value the version of Great Expectations that Dickens wrote first over the one his editor made him write, or the versions edited 100 years later by Dickens scholars (corrected texts, added illustrations, etc), is that the first edition, the edition with Dickens's hand on it, cannot be repeated once Dickens is dead. What is valued is the un-repeatablility.

Authorship: See Subjectivity above.
Constraints [See also Constraints in contemporary rhetorical theory]

Bitzer's constraints seem to imply a silencing--that if conditions were different, so much more would have been said. Bitzer's rhetorical situation can be seen as a filter: it sifts out from the mass of all utterances that which can be said for a given situation, and the mesh of the sieve is made up of situational constraints such as time, place, audience, etc. What emerges is what is left over once all of the unsaid things have fallen through.

Foucault's version of what is said (enonce) is just the opposite. Instead the Said being what is left after all else is silenced, a subtractive process, Foucault's system is one of Positivities. Foucault asserts that "the words, sentences, meanings affirmations, series of propositiosn do not back directly onto a primeval night of silence; but that the sudden appearance of a sentence, the flash of meaning...always emerge in the operational domain of an enunciative function; that between the language as one reads and hears it, and also as one speaks it....there is not a profusion of things half said, sentences left unfinished, thoughts half expressed, an endlessm onolgue of which only a few fragments emerge" (112). Instead, statements are generated by the positivities of a given discursive field (125).


Rupture and change

[See also Badiou's Event above


Relationship to "regularity": "An analysis that reinvests in the empirical element of history...the problematic of the origin: in every oeuvre, in every book, in the smallest text, teh problem is to rediscover the point of rupture, to establish, with the greatest possible precision, the division between the implicit density of the already-said, a perhaps involuntary fidelity to aquired opinon, the law of discursive fatalities, and the vivacity of creation, the leap into irreducible difference" (142). This, Foucault says, is what the history of ideas attempts to do: to find the "tipping point" (as Malcolm Gladwell class it) of an era, idea, movement, discourse. This poses two possiblities: resemblance and procession--either the new idea resembles an old one or it is simply the natural evolution of a series of ideas.
On rarity: the analysis of statements and discourse formations seeks to "establish a law of rarity" (118), to determine what might have been said in a given situation compared to the statements that did appear.
Events and rarity: "...archaology distinguishes several possible levels of events within the very density of discourse....[including]a fourth level, at which the substitution of one discursive formation for another takes place. These events, whic hare by far the most rare, are, for archaeology, the most important" (171). The rarity of a truly new discursive formation is what interests the archaeologists. Here, the event is a linguistic one: the changing out of one form for another in an abrupt and radical way.
Archaeology


In true Foucauldian fashion, we are given more about what archaeology is not than what it is. The chapter "Archaeology and the History of Ideas" contrasts the two methods extensively--but it is simple enough to state that Archaeology seems to do exactly the opposite of the history of ideas, it seems throw out many of "history"'s main thinking tools (like "object" and "subject"), and has a very different understanding of the "progression" of history--Archaeology is concerned with the gaps, not the continuity.


Other, more positive definitions:

"Archaeological description is concerned with those discursive practices to which teh facts of sucession must be referred if one is not to establish them in an unsystematic and naive way, that is in terms of merit" (144).

"Archaeological analysis individualizes and describes discursive formations. That is, it must compare them, oppose them to one another in the simultaneity in which they are presented, disctinguish them from those that do not belong to the same time scale...[etc. A lot}" (157).
"Archaeology tries to establish the system of transformations that constitute 'change'; it tries to develop this empty, abstract notion, with a view to according it the analysable status of transformation" (173).

Tuesday, January 29, 2008

Comm Gloss: Foucault's Archaeology of Knowledge

Foucault, Michel. The Archaeology of Knowledge and the Discourse on Language. Trans. A. M. Sheridan Smith. New York: Pantheon Books, 1972.


Parts I and II

Terms




"History"

Foucault:
"The old questions of the traditional [historical] analysis (What link should be made between disparate evens? How can a causal succession be established between them? What continuity or overall significance do they possess? Is it possible to define a totality, or must one be content with reconstituting connexions?) are now being replaced by questions of another type:[...]What types of series should be established? What criteria of periodization should be adopted for each of them?What systems of relations [...]may be established between them? [....] (3-4). History, or the work of historians, is no longer the study of causality and influence centered around a "spirit" of the period, but is now the analysis of disparate events breaking up that linear narrative. In other words, now historians are asking, with Burke, "How do you size up a situation?"--with "How" here referring to the power struggles, authorities, language choices, styles, traditions, and other forms that affect how we historicize.

"[...]thus, historical descriptions are necessarily ordered by the present state of knowledge" (5). Terministic screens go here.

Back in the day, "history" was simple: "The series being known, it was simply a question of defining the position of each element in relation to the other elements in the series" (7). This sounds like Bitzer's version of history and "situation": that there are objective facts we can write down in a predictable and ordered series, and these elements act as filters, sifting out what cannot be said from the totality of all utterances. Foucault sees this as a "negative" version of discourse formation; instead of seeing "constraints" and limits in the context, Foucault sees the elements as formative.

Total history: "seeks to reconstitute the overall form of a civilization, the principle--material or spiritual--of a society[...] what is called metaphorically teh 'face' of a period" (9). General history, its opposite, looks for "series of series" and a "total description" of the relations between historical elements (10).


Space and Space of Emergence

Foucault:

"So that the problem arises of knowing whether the unity of a discourse is based not so much on the permanence and uniqueness of an object as on the space in which various objects emerge and are continuously transformed" (32). "Space" is the important word here. What is "space"? How does that space itself get delineated?


"Object"


Foucault:
Major questions arise: "[...]how is one to specify the different concepts that enable us to conceive of discontinuity[....]? By what criteria is one to isolate the unities with which one is dealing; what is a science? What is an oeuvre? What is a theory? What is a text? (5). The "object" of study is not singular, does not have essence in and of itself, is not a unity, until it is embodied in discourse; nor does it exist prior to the discourse that constitutes it!


"Subject"


Foucault:
Traditional history created the conscious subject: "Continuous history is the indispensable correlative of the founding function of the subject: the guarantee that everything that has eluded him may be restored to him; the certainty that time will disperse nothing without restoring it in a reconstituted unity; the promise that one day the subject--in the form of historical consciousness--will once again be able to appropriate, to bring back under his sway, all those things that are kept at a distance by difference, and find in them what he may call his abode" (12). Several important things here: First, that the "subject" is a historical subject, that consciousness is a by product of a continuous history that accounts for cause and effect, events, purpose, and progress. Second, that the subject uses traditional senses of history (or needs it?) to order his/her consciousness and cope with (deal with, "size up") the present, to understand differentiation and division. Third, Foucault uses the word "abode"--a place, a home, a grounds from which the subject emerges. Without traditional, linear history, the subject cannot find the grounds from which s/he emerges (to use Burke's idea from the Grammar. In the "new" history, the subject is constituted by his/her position in a web of relations that don't exist prior to her/his participation in them--nor does the subject exist prior to the participation!


Excuse me while my head explodes.

"In this system [traditional history], time is conceived in terms of totalization and revolutions are never more than moments of consciousness" (12). Here is where Foucault intersects with dystopian rhetoric: In the traditional dystopias, the key to revolution is recognition--"consciousness" of history, of the historicity of the characters' present moment. In the new history, however, and in PoMo dystopias, this recognition is not enough, because "history" is no longer a linear path with easy causality, marching forward in an ordered Marxist way toward Utopia. Hence the subtitle of LeGuin's The Dispossessed: An Ambiguous Utopia. What is ambiguous is what counts as utopia, how we know we've reached it, and for whom is the situation (however we delineate "a" situation) is utopian. What is ambiguous is the totalization of a group of people in a not-yet-differentiated time: Where do we draw the lines? Thus, the rhetorical force loses ground: there is no "forward" motion toward utopia because we are no longer sure what "forward" means. In Oryx and Crake utopia only appears without narrative, without humans. If discursive formations arise from specific grounds, we must consider what grounds dystopian fiction, always already historical and historicizing, emerges from, and why this discourse can appear in multiple genres across different "eras," and still be recognized as the "same."


Discourse Formation
Foucault:

How to find a "discursive unity": "But perhaps one might discover a discursive unity if one sought it not in the coherence of concepts, but in their simultaneous or successive emergence, in the distance that separates them and even in their incompatibility. One would no longer seek an architecture of concepts sufficiently general and abstract to embrace all others and to introduce them into the same deductive structure; one would try to analyse the interplay of their appearances and dispersion" (34).


He uses the idea of "theme" as a way of identifying a discursive unity among discourses. I think this is what I mean when I refer to a "dystopian rhetoric" or a "dystopian philosophy"--a set of assumptions, values, beliefs, worldviews, etc, which lead to (somehow) a unity of style, and selects the forms of novel and film almost necessarily.

MF finds the "theme" just as problematic a way of defining a unity as "essence"--themes change over time, influence each other--it is still a somewhat arbitrary naming of this *thing*, this body of discourses, that depends more on a gut feeling of interconnectedness than any criterion we can examine here.

Sunday, January 27, 2008

COM 632S, or "Everthing you thought you knew about the rhetorical situation, but really you never did"

As you can tell from the long title, my COM class this semester is a bit more rigorous than the others I've taken. And that's a good thing, in some ways, because these are the things I NEED to be thinking about for the...you know. That which will not be named.

[Prelims]

As part of the class, Dr. Sam McCormick (any relation I wonder?), who kicks professorial ass, has asked us to do a "glossary" of terms, a handbook of authors and their relationships to each other, a list of cool quotes, etc. Now, I usually do something like that on here for the first few, crucial weeks of the semester for referencing later in the semester (when I've forgotten everything but my own name...and then some), but Sam is going to be grading these at regular intervals (i.e. TUESDAY of this week), which means I must actually continue my practice beyond week 4.

Damn.

On the plus side, if I put this "glossary" on this blog here, I can use that cute little search button at the top of the page when That Which Will Not Be Named rolls around, and I'm stuck on a rhetoric question.


So, without further ado [complaining], I present to you the first two weeks of Amy's Communication Studies Glossary of Terms Related to the Rhetorical Situation in Contemporary Theory. Enjoy.








Strategy

Burke:
Poetry is a strategic answer (PL 1)
“Another name for strategies might be attitudes” (PLF 297)
Burke defines for us “Strategy” by looking at the Concise Oxford and New English dictionaries, as well as quoting Andre Cheron.


Situation

Burke:
“Situations do overlap [across time], if only because men now have the asmae neural and muscular structure” (2) Physicality matters to situations.
“Proverbs ‘size up’ or attitudinally name” situations (2). Size up—as though we can symbolically encompass and control a situation. But, one must “size things up properly” (298).
Situations can recur, be “typical” (3) and “Social structures give rise to ‘type’ situations, subtle subdivision of the relationships involved in competitive and cooperative acts” (294). These give rise to genres, according to Jamieson and C. Miller.


Bitzer:
“There are circumstances of this or that kind of structure which are recognized as ethical, dangerous or embarrassing” (Rhet Sit, Phil and Rhet, 1968, p. 1) An attempt at defining “situation”
The rhetorical situation consists of audience, context, and exigence.
The presence of rhetorical discourse does not “give existence to the situation; on the contrary, it is the situation which calls the discourse into existence” (rhet sit, p. 2). Definitely “Scenic” like Burke’s Scene-Act ratio.
“It seems clear that rhetoric is situational” (rhet sit p. 3)
“Let us regard rhetorical situation as a natural context of persons, events, objects, relations and an exigence which strongly invites utterance; this invited utterance participates naturally in the situation, is in many instances necessary to the completion of situational activity, and by means of its participation with situation obtains its meaning and its rhetorical character” (Rhet sit, p. 5). First: “Natural”—while the word choice bothers me, his implication is clear: the rhetorical situation is not an imagined construct—it is part of the nature(damn that word) of communication. He also wants to emphasize here that the rhetorical situation and its invited utterances are not outside the real world, but that the utterance itself is part of the situation, and can give rise to other situations which require further utterances.
“Rhetorical situations exhibit structures which are simple or complex, and more or less organized” (11). Bitzer goes on to describe what he means by “simple” and “organized”, but the point is clear—by “organized” he means a “settled form with predictable outcomes”
“Finally, rhetorical situations come into existence, then either mature or decay or mature and persist—conceivably some persist indefinitely” (12). What does an “immature” situation look like? How can we tell?

Vatz, Richard.:
“NO situation can have a nature independent of the perception of its interpreter or independent of the rhetoric with which he chooses to characterize it” (226). Vatz goes on to say that Bitzer’s version of “situation” requires a “realist” philosophy of meaning, which has “unfortunate implications for rhetoric.” Vatz proposes another “perspective…from which to view the relationship between ‘situations’ and rhetoric.” Vatz links this to the “nature of meaning”—but I’m not sure what he means by that, except that meaning lies not in the object of study itself, but in the person looking at the object. I agree that Bitzer is entirely too Platonic in his understanding of the relationship between situation and meaning, in that case.
Situations are themselves rhetorical and communicative events, as “except for those situations which directly confront our own empirical reality, we learn of facts and events through sone’s communicating them to us. This involves a two part process. First, there is a choice of events to communicate” (228)
Second: “the translation of the chosen information into meaning. This is an act of creativity. It is an interpretive act. It is a rhetorical at of transcendence.” (228).

Genre

Burke:
“Each work of art is the addition of a word to an informal dictionary (or, in the case of purely derivative artists, the addition of a subsidiary meaning to a word already given by some originating artist)” (PLF 300). Burke’s parenthetical note seems to also apply to the idea of genres—often I think Burke ignores the idea of genres where he might find it helpful—here, “Scifi” is also a naming of a situation under which many individual texts fall, and they all share the same situation they are attempting to “size up” In as much as 1984 adds a “1984ism” to the informal dictionary, “dystopian fiction” as a naming does similar work—it de-term-ines both the text to follow and the situation itself.
In sociological criticism of art, “Art forms like ‘tragedy’ or ‘comedy’ or ‘satire’ would be treated as equipments for living, that size up situations in various ways an in keeping with correspondingly various attitudes” (304). Here, it’s not just a particular piece of literature that’s the equipment, but entire forms (genres). How is this different? Here, it is forms that size up situations, that give us attitudes (which makes sense, since genres are all about forming and setting attitudes and expectations in audience members).
Further, “Their [forms’] relation to typical situations would be stressed. Their comparative values would be considered, with the intention of formulating a ‘strategy of strategies,’ the ‘over-all’ strategy obtained by inspection of the lot” (PLF 304). Genres, then, are on another level of analysis, a more encompassing and more abstract (higher order?) of analysis. He even seems to be hinting at what Derrida calls the “Law of Genre” (Loi de genre)—that genre is law, division and separation and categorization, and that genre depends upon some higher order law of law, a logos of lex.

Bitzer:
“The difference between oratory and primitive utterance, however, in not a difference in function; the clear instances of rhetorical discourse and the fishermen’s utterances are similarly functional and similarly situational.” (Rhet sit, p. 5). See Burke on “contemporaneous” situations—PLF p. 301. Also note that Bitzer, like Burke, defines things functionally. The similarity between two utterances—one formal oratory, and one “primitive”—can lead to similar responses, repeated responses, and the creation of a genre.

Structural Determinism


Burke:
“He will not too eagerly ‘read into’ a scene an attitude that is irrelevant to it” (298). Burke seems to imply that situations contain within them a limited number of responses, but that there is still room to act: for earlier, he says, “One tries to change the rules of the game until they fit his own necessities” (298).

Bitzer:

“It is clear that situations are not always accompanied by discourse” (Rhet sit p. 2). But when the discourse is produced, it is necessarily “fitting.”
“The situation dictates the sorts of observations to be made; it dictates the significant physical and verbal responses; and, we must admit, it constrains the words which are uttered in the same sense that it constrains the physical acts of paddling the canoes and throwing the nets” (Rhet sit. p. 5). Note the word choice: Dictates. There is already a linguistic element embedded in the rhetorical situation, long before it ever invites a rhetorical response. If Burke says we respond in order to size a situation up, Bitzer seems to say that situations size themselves up for us.
“Although rhetorical situation invites response, it obviously does not invite just any response. Thus the second characteristic of rhetorical situation is that it invites a fitting response, a response that fits the situation” (10). But, as Vatz points out, if you read the situation from a different perspective, the situation may seem to prescribe many different “fitting” responses to different people. Only when the situation is “strong and clear” is the response obvious, and here “strong and clear” seems to mean “Traditional oratories in traditional genres.”

Miller, Arthur B.:
“Although an exigence essentially specifies limits, the rhetoric has creative latitude to interpret the significance of the exigence within those limits, and it is this latitude of the rhetor that is of primary interest here” (“Rhetorical Exigence” 111). This links back to Burke’s description of rhetorical utterances as “stylized” and “strategic” responses to a situation; Miller is, like me, emphasizing the “stylized” part—even if the situation’s exigency suggests and limits responses to those most fitting, the rhetor is capable of stylizing his/her utterance within certain limits so that not every response is exactly the same. In fact, part of the job of new members of a genre is to both a) fit into the genre, and b) differentiate themselves from other genre members by stylizing their texts in new ways that do not quite break the genre’s limits. Miller is less Scenic than Bitzer and Burke: in this formulation, the situation does determine utterances, but the situation itself must first be perceived by some agent.

Vatz, Richard.
On Bitzer’s claim that the situation of Kennedy’s assassination “controlled” the following rhetorical responses: “This does not mean, however, that the situation ‘controlled’ the response. It means that the communication of the even was of such consensual symbolism that expectations were easily predictable and stable.” (230). Vatz adds a social element with the use of the word “consensual”--I’m reminded of Symbolic Convergence Theory, which states that humans will converge around an event with similar attitudes, form similar responses, which become so formulated and conventional that they become “traditional” and thus expected. Vatz brings in “genre” and “recurring” as explanation for situations which seem to control their responses….which seems to correspond with Bitzer’s above explanation that “strong” and “clear” (to whom?) situations are easier to analyze. After all, it’s only “clear” when we are able to recognize, categorize, and theorize about it---which we can only do when it’s a recurrent event.


"Rhetorical"


Burke:
“Here I shall put down, as briefly as possible, as statement in behalf of what might be catalogued, with a fair degree of accuracy, as a sociological criticism of literature” (PLF 293) In what ways does KB really mean “rhetorical” here? Or have we rhetoricians coopted the materials of sociology in order to justify our practice and study? Is rhetoric now sociological? Is this a bid for legitimacy?

Bitzer:
Poetry is not rhetorical. However, the Declaration of Independence is. Presidential addresses are. Anything “spoken” is.
“Nor do I mean merely that rhetoric occurs in a setting which involves interaction of speaker, audience, subject, and communicative purpose. This is too general, since many types of utterances—philosophical, scientific, poetic, and rhetorical—occur in such settings” (3). Bitzer goes on to suggest other things the specifically “rhetorical” situation is NOT. His difficulty in defining the rhetorical could probably be alleviated if he were to recognize that most discourse, if not all, is rhetorical—it may not be public and formal-address-like, but still rhetorical. I’ll leave my frustrations with people who refuse to see that “aesthetic” is rhetoric at that.
“In short, rhetoric is a mode of altering reality…..by the creation of discourse which changes reality through the mediation of thought and action” (rhet sit p. 4).
Larson, Richard L. “Lloyd Bitzer’s ‘rhetorical situation’ and the Classification of Discourse” Phil and Rhet 3.3 165-168.
“Such distinctions between rhetorical and non0rhetorical discourse, however, quickly turn out to be slippery or, to state the point more positively the category of ‘rhetorical’ discourse embraces much more of what an ordinary person says and writes than Professor Bitzer’s article might at first suggest” (166) Expanding the rhetorical situation by expanding what counts as rhetorical: YAY! He also rescues poetry and scientific discourses from the abyss of “non”rhetorical discourse

Exigence


Bitzer:
“An exigence is rhetorical when it is capable of positive modification and when positive modification requires discourse or can be assisted by discourse” (Rhet Sit, p. 7) Positive? Hello progress narrative view of history!
Miller, Arthur B. “Rhetorical Exigence.” Philosophy and Rhetoric. (5) 1972 : 111-118. :
“Bitzer’s statements here and elsewhere suggest that an exigence is an identifiable something that acts to specify a speech to be given” (111). “Specify” here seems to indicate a determinism.
Vatz, Richard. :
“Bitzer seems to imply that the ‘positive modification’ needed for an exigence is clear. He seems to reflect what Richard Weaver called a ‘melioristic bias’ “ (227). Vatz argues here that Btizer’s view of exigence is based on a progress narrative—the view that there are “wrong” things that should be “fixed” to better society (perhaps toward a utopian state) and that rhetoric can change the situation for the “better” (ameliorate). Vatz criticizes Bitzer for his belief that the “situation is rhetorical only if something can be done.”—the bias towards agency and “action” in a traditional political/public policy sense is inherent in Bitzer’s definition of what is “rhetorical” in the first place—public speeches, presidential oratories, eulogies, constitutional documents. Is it not rhetorical if there is a negative modification reaction?
Vatz would like to reverse many of Bitzer’s formulations: “For example, I would not say ‘rhetoric is situational,’ but situations are rhetorical; not ‘exigence strongly invites utterance,’ but utterance strongly invites exigence; not ‘the situation controls to rhetorical response,’ but the rhetoric controls the situational response….” (229). I agree with most of these, particularly when utterance invites exigence—we’ve seen this in Bush’s War on Terror recently. It also, as Vatz notes, puts us back in the drivers seat, morally: when we “view rhetoric as a creation of reality or salience rather than a reflector of reality’ we end up assuming much more “responsibility for the salience’ we create.



Audience

Bitzer
“Properly speaking, a rhetorical audience consists of only those persons who are capable of being influenced by discourse and of being mediators of change” (8). How limiting is this, really? Aren’t we all capable of being mediators of change, atl east here in the US? Perhaps there are some slave populations that aren’t capable—but even people with “disabilities’ are able to effect some kind of change, even if it isn’t the desired or intended kind. Bitzer again seems to be imagining only the traditional oratory situation, and that’s far too narrow for what we do today. Later in this paragraph, he details how scientific discourse is also not rhetorical because the scientist can “express or generate knowledge without engaging another mind” (8)—which we know Burke would disagree with as well as many others, and rightly so. What is at stake when we limit our audiences in theories?


Situational con/re-straints

Miller, Arthur B.:
“On the other hand, when a hearer’s constraints combine with his perceptions of actions, phenomena, or facts, the result is the hearer’s perceived exigence: the basis of his expectations as he listens to the speaker” (117). This short quote is doing a lot. First, Miller is emphasizing the subjective nature of exigence: it Is only as much as it is Perceived As. Second, he is adapting the idea of constraints: it is not just the constraints upon the speaker, because as the speaker speaks, the situation inevitably changes; the listener, as perceiver, has his/her own constraints to work within—his own desires to be symbolically expressed and fulfilled. What Miller especially adds is the idea of genre as constraint on both the listener and the speaker: Expectations, formed from experience with recurring and repeated situations and their responses re/constrain what the speaker can say and how the listener can hear it.

Tuesday, January 15, 2008

Sticks and Stones

Sticks and stones will break your bones, but words will fuck you up, too.

From Burke's PLF.
Social structures give rise to "type" situations, subtle subdivisions of the relationships involved in competitive and cooperative acts (293-4). But are these structures deterministic? (de-term-inistic). Do they determine our response?

In what ways are all situations rhetorical?

Not determinative, but presupposes the appropriate action(s). The situation itself provides modes of conduct and possible names for it. But the "situation" is made up of audiences, "places" (which are created by the people around them), "historical facts" (which are the perceptions of the people recording them). The situation is a container for action.

Thursday, November 29, 2007

"A Pirate's Life For Me": Narrative Theory and Online Fan Community

[Note 12/20/07: The final version of this paper will not be published here for various reasons--mainly because it sucked and I don't feel I'm saying anything we don't already know, either as fans or as scholars, that isn't expressed by the outline here. If you'd like to read the full version, email me for an electronic copy.]

Intro--the day fandom exploded. The event known as "Strikethrough07" can show us how narrative theories might be adapted to examine communal, asynchronous narratives online.



  1. Narrative theory as appropriate for studying fan culture and fan text production. Bormann's Symbolic Convergence as a place to start. Fisher (and his respondants), particularly talking about the communal nature of all narrative. Ricoeur on temporality and (re)iteration. In literature: Peter Brooks (Formalism/Structuralism)--justify use of literature by pointing to a lack of other ways to analyze written communication that is neither literature nor tech writing.


  2. Fandom--definitions (including overview of LiveJournal as platform), narrative nature of, and counter-hegemonic practices of. Citing Henry Jenkins, Matt Hills, and Camille Bacon-Smith's ethnographic studies of fandom.

  3. : Strikethrough07 as told "objectively" by news organizations and technology news blogs.

  4. The narratives of Strikethrough 07. Examples throughout.

    1. Creating leaders, heroes and villans--this was the first task: "Whose fault is this?" was the first thing most fans asked and began researching.

    2. Time passage/speed of mythos construction. A single narrative emerged as the dominant version more quickly due to hyperlinking and copy/paste abilities.

    3. Genre of narratives of Strikethrough is quite clearly that of a detective story. Peter Brooks says this is the most engaging and most basic plot of all--an unveilling, a revelation. Fans constructed their narratives around this most familiar emplottment--because fanfiction is often written like this? Because it is the easiest to write? Because it poses the writer as Revealer?

    4. Pirates as metaphor. Fans see fandom as a whole by unifying under the pirate metaphor. They also see themselves as counter cultural (and thus heroic). They also identify with one of the major fandoms at that time: Pirates of the Carribbean, drawing on the newly released movie for inspiration, working issues of capitalism, economic dominance and hegemony into their fanfictions (which are usually just about romance).

    5. Errors and Rumors. As fans retell stories of their Strikethrough experience and attempt to hash out exactly what happened, accusations are made, unfounded rumors told, mistakes get made. The concessions to these errors are minimal, with most fans saying that the details actually *don't* matter--just the sentiment behind the actions. Which is strange, given the point above.

  5. Contributions to narrative theory
    1. Concession: The particularities of fandom must be considered: Already a strong community, already based in narrative.

    2. Burke's symbolic action actually worked: By symbolically "flaming" the organization causing grievances (LiveJournal) fans managed to change policy in their favor.

    3. Strikethrough as example of conflict resolution through narrative actually creating a communal identity from disparate sects (Harry Potter fans met with Sailor Moon fans, Smallville fans met with Pirates of the Carribean fans).

    4. Strikethrough as catharsis.

    5. Introduction of desire to catalogue and historicize events through posting narratives online.

    6. Fans are used to open-ended narratives, to filling in the gaps, so it's no surprise many of the narratives simply stop around the first week of September. References still abound, but the fanaticism has faded. What can this tell us about other community narratives and their longevity?

    7. The genre choice is interesting, as fans are continuously engaged in "revealing" the subtext of their favorite texts. This could be one of the differences between spoken narratives traded among face-to-face community members informally, and the more formal task of writing a narrative that others will voluntarily *find* then *read*--there must be some suspense built, the craftedness of the story is more important without other social cues.

    8. Visual narrative-- narratives online are permanent (unless LiveJournal deletes them). Not only are these permanent, but online interaction involves a visual component that may have been traditionally filled with gestural language. Unlike f2f communication, however, narratives online are hierarchically arranged by time: threads of a conversation appear as replies *below* the original comment, and subsequent comments on the same "level" of reply are indented the same amount.

Conclusion: Proposals for further study
Strikethrough was just one example, focusing on fandom. But online communities exist outside of fandom, and create narratives as a way of creating identity (Cite Howard Rheingold and Nancy Baym). Anecdotes are the main genre of online communication, but how many of these are narratives that actually help build community? Is there any way to predict which narratives will hold in a community, and which will be just another post?
Structuralism can tell us a lot about the types that survive: Those with strong senses of heroes and villans, those that feature a quest for information (which makes sense, given the medium of the Internet is traditionally used for information-seeking). Further studies might look at how often comments on narratives are themselves narratives, how many times a given narrative is linked to by multiple users.
Continued work on three-d avatars has revealed software engineer's attempts to duplicate f2f communication--how are narratives currently created in 3-d avatar environments, and to what extent do these look like "real" narratives, and to what extent do they seem more like bulletin board posts?

Wednesday, November 28, 2007

COM632: White Paper

Creating and Maintaining Online Communities Through Rhetorical Thinking

AmyLea Clemons

Submitted on 27 November 2007 to the On-line Interaction and Facilitation Seminar, Fall 2007, Purdue University,
Dr. Sorin A. Matei via the I Think Blog

Creating successful and vibrant online communities has been the subject of much debate: How much control should the founder have? Who should moderate and mediate for the community, if anyone? What design plans best encourage development of and participation in communities? How do we ensure the community will operate as planned? Although the ideal answer to any of these questions is “It depends,” this paper examines the best practices any community founder should follow and the processes he or she should consider at each step of community creation. The essay concludes with a discussion of Lloyd Bitzer’s “The Rhetorical Situation” as a quick and easy schema that online developers can use to simply the process.




Although the dotcom burst has leveled the enthusiasm for the internet somewhat, online communities—that is, a group of users who post to and create a central web space—still present as viable and vibrant spaces for growth. Creating successful and vibrant online communities, however, has been the subject of much debate: How much control should the founder have? Who should moderate and mediate for the community, if anyone? What design plans best encourage development of and participation in communities? How do we ensure the community will operate as planned? Although the ideal answer to any of these questions is “It depends,” this paper examines the best practices any community founder should follow and the processes he or she should consider at each step of community development.

Definitions and exclusions

“Online community” can mean several different things. Although we are now long beyond the debate over whether or not communities can exist online, what exactly these communities do or how they relate to their real world counterparts is still in discussion. Online communities differ from face-to-face communities in several ways, but also share significant overlap. Jenny Preece (2000) divides online communities into four components: People interacting “socially;” a “shared purpose;” policies; and computer systems (p. 7). These four components help identify an online group as a “community” and can serve as areas of analysis for developers.

Although all online communities may share these four components, the “shared purposes” can vary greatly. In a 2004 study of twenty seven bulletin boards (BBS) communities Ridings and Gefen found that use of online communities is not just limited to information-seeking, but that “virtual communities, like real ones, are joined not only because of utilitarian information exchange, but also because they serve the social need of having a friend and getting social support.” It is clear that some online communities are skewed toward information exchange or social support, and that the design, development and implementation of any online community will depend heavily upon the goals and activities the developer expects to occur.

This essay will be limited to discussing online communities that mainly foster social interaction instead of information gathering; of course, information distribution can be expected within these communities as well, as per Ridings and Gefen’s study, but the communities and processes described in this discussion will focus on groups that emphasize interaction over information, eliminating communities involved in e-commerce, journalistic blogging, and social bookmarking. In the following discussion, then, “online community” will refer to community blogging platforms, support networks, and social networking communities such as Facebook.

Further, it should be noted that, as with “real” or face-to-face communities, no community is prototypical. Preece (2000) reminds us that “Each community is unique, and there is no guaranteed recipe for a successful community” (p. 7). She also provides a helpful metaphor for developers to consider:

“Communities develop and continuously evolve. Only the software that supports them is designed. Thus, the role of a community developer is analogous to that of the mayor of a new town, who works with town planners to set up suitable housing, roads, public buildings, and parks, and with governors and lawyers to determine local policies” (p. 26).


It is with this metaphor in mind that best practices for online communities are proposed for each of the following areas: Planning, Designing, Implementing, and Evaluating.

Planning

When planning an online community, developers should be prepared to conduct research in at least two areas. First and foremost, the community should have a clear, central focus. Because online communities do not have a physical locale to ground them, they must be grounded in other ways, particularly in a common goal. Users report participating in online communities for several reasons, especially for discussing a shared interest. (Ridings & Gefen, 2004). Thus, developers should engage in initial studies to determine possible user interest and the specific direction of that interest. A community for sufferers of Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, for example, would not only be interested in sharing their experiences, but might be specifically interested in sharing coping tips, trading doctor names, and linking to unique treatment options. More importantly, developers should recognize whether the “interest” is strong enough to translate into “participation.” The purpose must be strong enough to incite action among regular users and lurkers alike.

A secondary research area is related to the first: audience analysis is essential to determining the direction of an online community. No online community is created in a vacuum; a profile of potential users can tell developers much about the probable direction of the community. While there are many approaches to audience analysis, Baym provides a simple and effective schema. Baym (1998) lists four categories for consideration: external contexts, temporal structure, system infrastructure, and participant characteristics. Of these, the external context of the participants and the participant characteristics should be the main focus for developers at the planning stage. In determining the context and characteristics of potential users, researchers should ask several questions: What demographic would this community serve? What do we know about their access to and familiarity with computer mediated communication? What constraints might there be on the users’ abilities to participate? What environmental conditions might actually encourage participation by our target audience? These questions are essential to address before the community is made “live,” so that designers can use the tools available to them to encourage participation in specific ways. For example, while Chronic Fatigue patients may be interested in such a community, the conditions of the illness itself will prevent many from participation; developers should note such constraints and determine if they will effect the initial building process.

As they prepare such research, developers should note that “participation” comes in many forms. “Lurkers,” or users who read the exchanges of other members of an online community without contributing to the community themselves, must be considered as part of the community, despite their invisibility. Ridings and Gefen assert that “arguably lurkers are members, albeit silent ones, in virtual communities” and that they

“should be of interest to companies and to researchers. Moreover, lurkers must actively navigate to the URL and occasionally even login to this type of a virtual community to obtain access to it. In doing so, even a lurker becomes an active, albeit silent, participant” (Ridings and Gefen, 2004).


Developers must keep lurkers in mind when planning a community: because research suggests a large percentage of “users” of online communities are actually lurking, a community should be built to accommodate lurkers without pressuring these users to give up their anonymity or to invest more time or emotion that they are willing to. When considering potential uses, developers must assume lurking will occur, and should design accordingly.

In summary, community developers must begin with a strong purpose and sense of audience before beginning design of software and web spaces. Once interest and audience have been established, developers can move on to the more difficult task of creating a style, a signature, a theme, and a “presence” for their community.

Designing

Online communities have sprung up across the web in such vast numbers that the introduction of a new community will not necessarily register to most users. Therefore a new community must not only be easy to use in order to encourage participants in the early stages of the community’s development, but it must also stand out visually and conceptually.

The best designs are “intuitive,” as Krug says in his 2005 book Don’t Make Me Think! “Intuitive” in this case, refers to ease of navigation; users must be able to sort through the layers of the site in order to find specific areas of interest. For this reason, the front or “home” page requires the most consideration. One option that many businesses and nonprofit online communities alike now use is a “splash” page, which provides easy entry to the subsequent pages for both regular and first time users. Splash pages include simplified instructions, large graphics for site navigation, and prominent login boxes. Splash pages limit the number of options a user may take to enter and move through the site, which thus limits the overwhelmed feeling many first time users get and prevents regular users from wading through unnecessary material. Splash pages must be visually interesting without looking “busy” however; Krug (2005) finds that many sites, in an attempt to catch the user’s eye, are instead distracting and confusing, causing readers to abandon their search.

From an introductory page, such as a splash page or a more traditional “home” page, each major activity developers expect to occur on the site must be accessible and easy to locate. For example, a community for single fathers might focus mainly on forum or bulletin board postings, and these forums should be accessible from the home page. Other activities on the same “level” as participating in the forums (such as uploading photos, linking to news articles, making important site-wide announcements) should also be accessible from this page, and each page on the same level should carry the same basic design. Maintaining a “theme”—a page template that keeps color, pattern, navigation and language uniform across several pages—not only makes the site easier to navigate, but creates a sense of location in “real” space; recurring design motifs help to stabilize an otherwise ephemeral “cyberspace,” and these motifs give the site a visual identity users can connect with on a sensory level.

Above all, design should aim for ease of use, because when a site is easy to navigate and post to, users will be more likely to participate. For the best interaction, posts to the online community should be made using the simplest software available—no user should have to learn special coding (unless they want to) in order to participate. Wiki softwares that allow users to simply add content without “uploading” are best, although any software (such as WordPress) that uses a WYSIWYG (what you see is what you get) editor that works like a word processing program should suffice.

Using software that allows users to post without learning extra codes should ease some of the posting anxiety that might prevent lurkers from participation. Another way to encourage lurkers to become more visible is to create levels of participation. Many sites now track the number of readers each post receives, which can serve to highlight the presence of lurkers, even if they choose not to “speak.” Yet another option is to require users to log in to read and comment on some posts; LiveJournal requires users to create an account to read material that posting members select as “private.” By requiring log in, developers can better track who logs in when, and how often.

The best designs are not only easy to use, but attempt to make the community feel “real” to users; this can be accomplished both visually and via the software’s functionality. Visually, the site’s various sub-pages should be unified by a common theme, as described above. By maintaining consitency among pages, developers create a sense of static, permanent space, as “real” communities tend to occur in a single physical place. Structurally, the software platform should support this sense of community by creating other visual cues for the users. Because computer mediated communication tends to filter out the social cues we are used to experiencing in a “real” community, an online community may be made to feel more “real” by adding back in cues that allow users to identify themselves in whole or in part, as with a picture of themselves, or simply adding their real names (Walther & Parks 2002).A prominent “Who’s Online” function in the navigation or side bars can show visitors and registered users alike the names of users currently occupying the site; this function emphasizes a shared space and shared time, and encourages users to connect to each other—they know they are not alone in the cyberspace of the community. Other functions that should be considered include
  • Large, easily visible “Comment” buttons on each user posting so that threaded conversations can begin in the space they are begun.

  • Time stamps on each comment that allow users to more easily imagine the person on the other end of the conversation.

  • “Tags” for each conversation. Tags are key words that users categorize their posts with. Lists of tags on the main page allow people to see what’s being discussed most frequently, and links them to users discussing similar topics.

These simple functions should be incorporated into the site design when available. The prominence of each feature depends upon the purpose and function developers want to foster in a given community, and these decisions should be made early in the design process.

One final feature that communities working with a younger demographic should consider is the use of avatars. Avatars are graphical representations of the user—small images attached to each user’s post and profile that can be changed easily depending on the user’s mood, the post topic, or the community’s focus. Older users may not feel comfortable with these images, or may not have the technical ability to create them as easily as younger generations do.

Once the design has been set, the community _site_ is ready to “go live”—to be made public to the internet in general. As the community begins building, developers should begin considering key questions of implementation and evaluation.

Implementing
How to manage and implement online communities continues to be a hotly debated subject. Some argue for a central moderating figure (usually connected to the supporting organization), while others find that moderation is best done “organically,” by users themselves. Nearly all, however, agree that some type of moderation is necessary, and moderation begins with setting initial guidelines and rules for all users to follow.

Guidelines or rules should be set early on, but should always be open for reconsideration. In particular, developers should consider the following issues before beginning:

Politeness to other users. “Flaming,” or harrassing or abusive comments between users on a given thread or topic, should be kept to a minimum. Politeness online also includes restrictions against profanity or overly graphic descriptions. The level of “adult” language allowed is contingent upon the goals and audience of the community.

  • Length of posts. Overly lengthly posts can clutter a site, and often makes other users feel croweded or silenced. Krug (2005) states that “We don’t read pages, we scan them,” and that “if the document is longer than a few paragraphs, we’re likely to print it out because it’s easier and faster to read on paper than on a screen” (p. 22). Most software platforms provide a “cut” or “more” function that trims posts to a more readable length for the front page, but a maximum post length should be set to keep the design looking even.

  • Off-topic posts. While the occasional non-related post can lighten the mood or break the monotony of a group, too many off-topic posts can detract from the original goals and purpose of the community. Limiting off topic posts can also limit spamming and advertising.


Once the rules have been tentatively set, developers should post them high in the hierarchy. To ensure users at least know about the rules, the guidelines should be presented as part of the registration process. Many sites now require users to agree to a “Terms of Use” contract before joining communities as registered users; these contracts list the rules and any other legal information, such as copyright laws. In general, rules are not only a good legal reference (for extreme cases of abuse), but gives users a shared responsibility that, again, builds a sense of “real” community.

Legislation of the rules should be carefully considered. Again, the use of a moderator is necessary for almost any site, but the type of moderator and the process of moderating varies. :Developers must first decide between a moderator chosen by the administrators and a moderator that arises “naturally” from the users themselves. Once a moderator (or moderators) is selected, the particular role this moderator would play must be outlined. Questions to consider include

  • What “punishments” are appropriate for rule breakers? Will moderators have the power to remove users or deny them access?

  • How will users be alerted of offenders and offenses? Some sites issue mass emails, others send separate notes to each offender for each offense.

  • How will rules be enforced? Some communities periodically post site-wide reminders, others assume users will conform without reminders.

One of the touted benefits of online communities is the tendency of such communities to be more friendly to those who are less socially adept or who are marginalized by the dominant society. These utopian notions are likely naïve, but the presence of rules and guidelines should not detract from the sense of “communitas”–an almost magical sense of communion that moves “toward universalism and openness” (“Rites”). Finding balance between regulation and chaos may emerge “organically” from the users themselves, but developers should be prepared to step in when necessary.

Evaluating
The key questions a developer should ask once a community has been active for several weeks are “Is it working?” and “What can we do better?” Evaluating an online community’s success can be difficult, as markers of success can sometimes be less thank obvious. Although success can be measured in many ways, the easiest aspect to measure is volume; although there is much more to a successful community than the number of users and posts alone, these can be good places to begin evaluation. In particular, developers should address:

  • Number of users, both registered and lurkers, if possible.

  • Number of hits.

  • Timeline of hits: When are people logging on? What are peak hours? Is there a particular time of month? Is the timeline related to any site changes or administration changes?

For those that find a community failing to meet expected volumes, new strategies of finding and motivating users should be implemented. To advertise the community, developers should locate sites focusing on similar issues in order to promote their own sites. For communities related to a profession or trade, developers might consider advertise in the journals or magazines that serve those trades. To ensure users can find the site easily, web managers should ensure that search engines such as Google can find the community.

Other enticements can increase participation. An empty community is rarely inviting; developers should make the space look occupied; founders can begin threads in forums or post questions to invite conversation. Some sites benefit from “guest bloggers” well known among the potential community members. Any post from a new community member should be promptly and encouragingly commented upon by founders and developers.

Ultimately, even well-populated communities may require evaulation and revision if users find the site design and software structure difficult to use. Periodic informal usability testing can help designers improve the functionality of the site with little cost to the developers; brief surveys every few months can keep designers and developers abreast of any emergent problems as the community changes and grows.

The Rhetorical Situation: A shorthand guide to community development

The above suggestions and points for consideration detail possibilities for online community development. However, many of these decisions are contingent and based in the specific situational context. When considering each of the above possibilities, developers should keep in mind what is commonly called the “rhetorical situation,” a “complex of persons, events, objects, and relations presenting an actual or potential exigence which can be completely or partially removed if discourse, introduced into the situation, can so constrain human decision or action as to bring about the significant modification of the exigence” (p. 6). Bitzer offers three points to consider when attempting to define the rhetorical situation: Audience, exigency, and Constraints (p. 6). Others have added to the list, adding a “Context” category to further define historico-political elements; extrapolating the “Audience” seciton to include gender, race, and class issues; and adding to “Constraints” to discuss means of production. Taken as just Bitzer’s original schema, however, “the rhetorical situation” offers a framework for analyzing any situation in which texts are produced.

Online communities, as text-based constructions, are rhetorical situations as defined by Bitzer. Each of the previous sections–planning, design, implementation, and evaluatoin–can benefit from an analysis of the rhetorical situation at each stage. Because each community is different, each rhetorical stuation is different, and by detailing the situation, developers can better tailor the above suggestions to their own community. Additionally, a rhetorical analysis prevents developers from developing hard and fast rules that can stagnate a community. Thinking rhetorically can also highlight room for potential change and growth; in analyzing constraints, developers can find ways to remove barriers or exploit an absense of limitations. Thinking rhetorically also helps developers to determine the best way to moderate communities; remembering the users are also humans who interact textually can prevent clashes and promote good relations between moderators and users.

Many of the points for consideration above should be read through the rhetorical situation. The particular rhetoricity of online communities seems to call for extra attention to the community’s textual practices (both verbal and visual). While it make take a little more work for developers to learn rhetorical language and theories, adding a rhetorical perspective to the above will doubtlessly promote growth and vibrancy in the community.



References
Baym, N. (1998). The emergence of on-line community. In S. Jones (Ed.), Cybersociety 2.0 (pp. 35-68). Thousand Oaks: Sage.
Bitzer, Lloyd (1968). The rhetorical situation. Philosophy and Rhetoric, 1 (1), 1-14.
Krug, Steve (2005). Don’t make me think! Berkeley, Calif: New Riders Press.
Preece, Jenny (2000). Online communities. Chichester, England: Wiley and Sons.
Ridings, C. & Gefen, D. (2004). Virtual Community Attraction: Why People Hang Out Online. JCMC 10(1), article 4.
Rites of Communitas (2004). The Routledge Encyclopaedia of Religious Rites, Rituals and Festivals. (pp. 97-101) Ed. Frank A. Salamone. New York: Routledge.
Walther, J. B., & Parks, M. R. (2002). Cues filtered out, cues filtered in: Computer-mediated communication and relationships. In M. L. Knapp & J. A. Daly (Eds.), Handbook of interpersonal communication (3rd ed., pp. 529-563). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage.

Monday, November 12, 2007

Usability

Krug, Steve. Don't Make Me Think! Indianapolis, IN: New Riders Publishing, 2000.



"But even then, if the document is longer than a few paragraphs, we're likely to print it out because it's easier and faster to read on paper than on a screen" (22). Ah, the return of the E-Book debate. Book 2.0. What do we do with this, when online communities are only textual (for now?) and text is "noisy"? Krug says "We don't read pages. We scan them," and this is true for the "information" based websites Krug is designing. But what about those websites that don't just disseminate, but create? Is this where the "drabble" and "flashfic" came from? Is it the amount of text as a whole, or the amount of text per section (as in posts to blogs)?



"Happy talk must die" (46) wherein "happy talk" are the introductory welcoming messages that we hate to write, and hate to read. But these are also conventions which he *likes*. Welcome tags are "basically just a way to be sociable" (46)--well, isn't that what we want, for social websites?



On Bookmarking: When we want to return to something on a Web site, instead of relying on a physical sense of where it is we have to remember where it is in teh conceptual hierarchy an retrace our steps. This is one reason why bookmarks--stored personal shortcuts--are so important and why the Back button accounts for somewhere between 30 and 40 percent of all Web clicks.


We should change the Welcome! to a Start Here! tag.



The myth of the Average User:
"The belief that most Web users are like us is enough to produce gridlock in the average Web design meeting. But behind that belief lies another one, even more insidious: the belief that most Web users are like anything" (136).