Rhetoric in Our Heads: The Speaker and Audience as One

Image courtesy of Rik Hartley

Before taking this course, I had never really thought about rhetoric as an everyday tool; I pictured it as a thing reserved to political discussions, public forums, and formal debates. The realization that it is something we use in practically every meaningful conversation was the most striking concept of this course so far.

Though the definition of rhetoric we have used in class was broader than my own to begin with, that definition, upon further reflection, may have an unnecessary constraint: the existence of a second person.

We have applied the study of rhetoric to group decisions, such as deciding where to go out to eat. Each person who wishes to contribute to the decision presents their argument, and, after weighing each argument, the group decides where to eat in a way that is satisfactory for everyone involved. Those presenting the arguments use the tools of rhetoric.

What if this same reasoning could be applied to individual decisions? When someone decides where to eat, he or she goes through a similar process, weighing the perceived advantages and disadvantages of several different possible choices before settling on one.

However, weighing the advantages and disadvantages of different choices is not the same as making a rhetorical argument for or against each choice. In the absence of new arguments from outside sources, people only rarely convince themselves to meaningfully change their mind. Whatever the advantages and disadvantages of a certain restaurant are to a certain person, they will likely remain the same unless that person takes in new information or arguments.

So is rhetoric applicable at all to individual minds? In the case of opinions, probably not. However, it may be applicable to changes in behavior.

Imagine a man who wanted to start going to the gym. However, he could never find the motivation to; every night, he told himself he would go the next day, but every morning he told himself he was too tired. But then, one morning, the man said to himself, "If you don't go to the gym now, then you'll never go to the gym." And so he went to the gym.

The logic of the man's declaration is questionable, but it is a (simple) rhetorical argument in favor of going to the gym. It has a speaker (the man), an audience (also the man), and a message (you should go to the gym). It even achieves its goal.

I believe that situations like this present examples of rhetoric between a person and him- or herself. Furthermore, I believe that, by leveraging the tools of rhetoric, we can, as the man did in this situation, convince ourselves to change our behavior in a positive way.

The Dark Side of the Civic

Image courtesy of Frederic C. Chalfant

Until last month, this monument stood in Bishop Square Park, in Baltimore. It depicts two women: one holds her dying son in her arms, while the other stands defiantly. The scene is one of great courage, determination, and tenderness, depicted beautifully by the sculptor J Maxwell Miller.

It's too bad, then, that the dying son is a Confederate soldier, and that the monument, called the Confederate Women's Monument, was installed not to remember his sacrifice but to advance the dangerously false, patently racist idea of the Lost Cause of the Confederacy.

The monument was installed in 1917, and was funded by a combination of state grants and money raised by the United Daughters of the Confederacy (UDC). Though ostensibly meant to honor the sacrifices of Confederate soldiers, its installation in a Union state shortly after the passage of residential segregation laws in Baltimore calls that motive into question.

My speech would examine the intent behind the installation of the monument, as well as the reasons why it stood for nearly 100 years and, if time allows, the reasons why it was eventually taken down, as stated in historical documents and contemporary news sources.

Moreover, my speech would analyze the rhetorical strategies used by both the UDC and J Maxwell Miller to glorify the Confederacy, such as the pathos of losing a child, religious symbolism, and parallels to other, better-known statues.

Particularly notable among these rhetorical strategies is the use of the commonplace. The monument was installed at a time when the portrayal of the Confederacy as a fallen hero was common, but monuments like it and the organizations that supported them were largely responsible for this belief. The analysis of this chicken-and-egg relationship would be an integral part of my speech.

As I see it right now, my hook could go one of two ways: it could either be similar to the start of this blog post (emphasizing the monument's artistic merits before revealing its meaning), or it could emphasize the recent events that resulted in the statue's removal (most prominently, the white nationalist rally in Charlottesville). I am leaning heavily towards the first option, so as to preserve focus on the monument itself, but I am welcome to any suggestions.

Sources

• Confederate Women's Monument, 1915-1917, Special Commission to Review Baltimore's Public Confederate Monuments
  
• Confederate Monuments, Commission for Historical and Architectural Preservation

Sci-fi? And engineering? What am I, a nerd?

The answer is yes.

I've narrowed down my options to two passion blogs. As of now, I am leaning towards the first (probably because it gives me an excuse to watch a bunch of movies), but I am open to either. I welcome any suggestions to improve these ideas.

Now, without further ado:

Futures of the Past: Examining the Historical Context of Classic Sci-Fi

Image courtesy of Classic Film

Last night, I watched The Day the Earth Stood Still on Netflix. Made in 1951, it is the UFO story: a flying saucer lands in Washington, DC, and its occupant, named Klaatu, must deliver an urgent message to all of the world's leaders.

Of course, things turn south almost immediately; Klaatu is shot by a soldier, and, while recovering, is told that a meeting of the world's leaders would be impossible due to the Cold War.

For all of its merits as a film, The Day the Earth Stood Still made a greater impression on me as a reflection of the time in which it was made. Its script is steeped in the global tensions of the time, reflecting incredulity at the hostility between the USA and the USSR and fear of the atomic destruction such hostility could bring about.

This blog would focus on one science fiction film per entry, dissecting the film's relationship to the social, political, economic, or religious climate of the time and place in which the film was made. Entries would be in chronological order by the film's release date, starting, perhaps, with Metropolis (released in 1927) and extending... well, as far as I get.

 Why Engineering? I Dunno, I Guess I'm Good at Math

Image courtesy of Behdad Esfahbod

The title of this blog is the answer I usually give when someone asks me why I decided to major in engineering. Though a little tongue-in-cheek, it's true: I don't know exactly why I want to be an engineer.

Don't get me wrong, I'm confident in my choice of major. I enjoy my classes, and I look forward to any career or research opportunities that may come my way.

But I can't really outline the path I took to get here. I've known for a long time that I wanted to be an engineer, but I don't know how, or even when, I made that decision. I hope that, by writing in this blog about my pathway to engineering, I can find the answers to these questions.

I am not entirely sure how to structure the five entries of this blog. I could make them chronological, starting in elementary school and ending in college. Alternatively, I could write each blog post about a specific topic, such as classwork or extracurricular activities. I am open to any other suggestions, as well.