burke rhetoric

7/29/2019 Burke Rhetoric

1/10

On First Reading Burke's "A Rhetoric of Motives"Author(s): Linda M. TurnerSource: College Composition and Communication, Vol. 24, No. 1 (Feb., 1973), pp. 22-30Published by: National Council of Teachers of EnglishStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/357262 .

Accessed: 27/08/2013 19:04

Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of the Terms & Conditions of Use, available at .http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp

.JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range of

content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new forms

of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact [email protected].

.

National Council of Teachers of English is collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve and extend access to

College Composition and Communication.

http://www.jstor.org

This content downloaded from 200.75.19.130 on Tue, 27 Aug 2013 19:04:01 PMAll use subject to JSTOR Terms and Conditions
http://www.jstor.org/action/showPublisher?publisherCode=nctehttp://www.jstor.org/stable/357262?origin=JSTOR-pdfhttp://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsphttp://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsphttp://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsphttp://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsphttp://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsphttp://www.jstor.org/stable/357262?origin=JSTOR-pdfhttp://www.jstor.org/action/showPublisher?publisherCode=ncte


2/10

On ?irst ReadingBurke's A Rhetoricof 4otives"

LINDA M. TURNER

FORSOME TIME NOW, it is not only "rhet-oric" which has fallen into ill-repute butthe very notion of persuasion itself. Per-suasion is something done to us: we seeourselves as malleable beings shaped,massaged and molded by the force ofwords. We identify persuasion with themachinations of political demagoguery orthe manipulations of the advertisingworld. We link it with the coyness andcajolery of love games or the sentimen-tality which urges us to displays of patri-otism. And, behind all of this, I think wehave come to understand persuasion asthe force which mobilizes all of our sur-face feelings-those fickle, temporary, un-stable emotions waiting to be channeledin support of goals, projects, policies withwhich we have no genuine connectionnor real understanding. We implicitlysee ourselves and others as an army ofdormant energies and persuasion as theforce which puts them to use-to fight abattle here and a battle there; to plugup the hole in one dike, and then an-other, and then another. In short, then,we see persuasion as glittering ornamentwhich moves us through its attractive-ness; as pretty frosting which tempts usto devour the whole cake; as the promiseof delectable reward which leads us intoa maze designed and controlled by some-one other than ourselves. And, in light ofall this, it is Kenneth Burke's triumph tohave restored not only the good name ofrhetoric but the significance of persua-sion in human life.1

1I will be referring, in this paper, to Ken-

While Burke might admit to our beingmalleable, he also forces us to see our-selves as rational beings who not onlycreate value in a world where noneexists naturally but as beings who mustset the stage for the enactment of thosevalues. Consequently, he describes "per-suasion" as the intelligent and moral useof words to focus our attention on valuesand to convince others of their superi-ority and necessity. Persuasion is there-fore not something "done to us," asthough we were Skinnerian rats, but themethod we use to draw others closerto us. And, as society is the union ofseparate persons, so persuasion is theessential instrument in creating society:it is the centripetal force which actsagainst the centrifuge which wouldwildly throw us into separate and iso-lated corners. Persuasion is the methodwhereby we can see through the tangleof present crises and conflicts to a stateof unity and cooperation, to a true soci-ety. And this vision of a future state ofcooperation is intimately connected toBurke's analysis of "ultimate terms"2-ideas which stand at the top of a hier-archy and therefore guide us in our senseof the present and the future.But before getting into these "ulti-mate terms" (what I am primarily in-neth Burke'sA Rhetoric of Motives (Berkeley,Los Angeles: University of California Press,1969).2See, in particular,Part III of A Rhetoric ofMotives, "Positive, Dialectical and UltimateTerms"and "Ultimate Elements in the MarxistPersuasion"(pp. 183-197).

22

http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsphttp://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsphttp://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp


3/10

ON FIRST READING BURKEterested in here), I first would like toexplore what it is in A Rhetoric of Mo-tives which urges us to experience thesignificance, the genuine function ofthese "ultimates" in human life. In read-ing Burke, I found myself wanting toconsider quite closely two aspects ofrhetoric which initially seem in opposi-tion but, in the long run, must be under-stood as working hand in hand.First of all, in A Rhetoric of MotivesI was particularly struck by Burke'scharacterization of rhetoric and the rhet-orician within an ethical and politicalframework. That it is an "ethical andpolitical framework" becomes quite ex-plicit, I think, when we allow Burke'smetaphor of "the state of Babel after theFall" to assume its central place in thebook.3 To refer to the "state of Babel"is to at once force into the open ourunderlying sense of conflict and disarrayand yet prod us with another (also un-derlying) vision of things as they musthave been before the Fall. Through onemetaphor we are brought in touch bothwith what is and what should be. And,of course, it is the "should be" whichinfuses Burke's analysis with its ethicaland political characteristics. The job ofrhetoric and the rhetorician is not topersuade us per se, to persuade an audi-ence or perhaps the self to just anything,but to persuade men to a state of iden-tity, harmony and unity. The functionof rhetoric is to move people back to, orat least closer to, life before the Fall, be-fore the "state of Babel."But I was also, and perhaps morestrongly, affected by Burke's realizationthat there is such a thing as a "falseunity" to which men may be persuaded,a state of cooperation where harmony isnot based on genuine identificationamong people but is only a slick veneer.As a veneer, this harmony is quite liter-ally superficial, functioning to hide con-

3Burke,p. 23: "Rhetoric is concerned withthe state of Babel after the Fall."

flicts and to charm us into continued(though false) cooperation. In this in-stance, it is the task of rhetoric and therhetorician to shatter, unmask and ex-pose-in the interests of that ultimateand genuine cooperation existing beyondthe "state of Babel."

Quite perceptively, Burke points tothe psychotic or neurotic personality asone paradigm of the way in which con-flict and disunity can be hidden. In thisinstance, the hiding of conflict is ac-complished by a fantasy (a kind ofrhetorical strategy) which allows theperson to behave and operate as a har-monious whole. In speaking of thestrife-ridden neurotic who yet managesto unite his "rival factions" in a coopera-tive effort, Burke says:. .. consideredrhetorically, he victimof a neuroticconflict is torn by parlia-mentarywrangling;he is heckled likeHitler within. (Hitler is said to haveconfronted a constant wrangle in hisprivate deliberations,after having im-posed upon his people a flat choicebetween conformity and silence.)Rhetorically, the neurotic's every at-tempt to legislate for his own conductis disorganizedby rival factions with-in his own dissociated self. Yet, con-sidered Symbolically,the same victimis technically "at peace," in the sensethat his identity is like a unified,mutually adjusted set of terms. Foreven antagonistic terms, confrontingeach other as parryand thrust, can besaid to "cooperate"n the building ofan over-allform. (p. 23)

Then Burke makes it quite clear that theneurotic persuades himself (again, rhe-torical strategy) that he indeed has aclear and coherent identity: he is a "sickperson":. . . one can systematicallyextend therangeof rhetoric f one studies the per-suasiveness of false or inadequateterms which may not be directly im-posed upon us from without by some

23



4/10

COLLEGE COMPOSITIONAND COMMUNICATIONskillful speaker,but which we imposeupon ourselves, in varying degrees ofdeliberateness and unawareness,through motives indeterminately self-protective and/or suicidal . . . Butfor the presentwe might merely recallthe psychologist's concept of "malin-gering,"to designate the ways of neu-rotic personswho, though not actuallyill, persuade themselves that they are,and so can claim the attentions andprivileges of the ill. . . . Similarly, ifa social or occupationalclass is not tooexacting in the scrutiny of identifica-tions that flatter its interests, its veryphilosophyof life is a profitablemalin-gering .... (pp. 35-36)In both of these passages, Burke bringsto my mind a real person (let me callher "Joyce"), a paranoid schizophrenic,whose paranoid fantasy allows her todeflect attention away from inner ten-sions and divisions toward an outside

enemy against which all her facultiesmust work cooperatively and harmoni-ously. "Joyce" believes that her father(plus a hired crew of private detectivesand the city police) actively conspiresto commit her to a mental institution. Asa consequence of this belief, "Joyce"sees her terror, her incredible anxiety,her extreme dependencies, and herchild-like manipulations as the appro-priate response to a real threat, not asthe symptoms of an immense upheavalwithin herself. The fantasy intervenes-as might a piece of patriotic oratory-topersuade "Joyce" to forget inner squab-bles and, instead, to work cooperativelyin the struggle to defeat the enemy andsurvive. And, of course, one (but onlyone) part of the therapeutic process-asa rhetorical strategy-would be to per-suade Joyce to unmask and expose thefantasy for herself. One task of thetherapist/rhetorician would be to per-suade Joyce that conflict is there, notunity.

Another paradigm of false coopera-tion, and one which comes across moreforcefully, is the nationalism, patriotism

or jingoism which impels people to groupidentity or loyalty, particularly in timesof war. Here, Burke's analysis revealsthe irony of war (strife and disunity)being the consequence of cooperativeeffort. More importantly, his analysisforces us to see that the rhetoric ofnationalism, the persuasion to grouployalty, can very often depend upon theblurring of very real class conflicts. Aswith Joyce's enemy without, any threatto national security provides the perfectopportunity to rivet our attention on the"they" and away from internal and per-haps more fundamental conflicts. As astudent of mine pointed out, war isreally quite functional as a unifier: it letspeople feel a kind of communion in theirstruggle against a common enemy. Butin this case, as with the case of theneurotic or psychotic personality, wediscover a critical method, a rhetoricalstrategy, which seeks to rip the mask offpatriotism and national unity and tosharply delineate the conflicts boilingbeneath their surfaces. As Burke makesquite clear, Marxist analysis is a rhe-torical strategy which seeks to persuadeand convince men that the bonds whichseem to hold classes together are, attheir best, simply tenuous and, at theirworst, absolutely destructive. Regard-less of the validity of his analysis, theMarxist assumes what I, and I believeBurke, would call a valid and essentialrhetorical stance: he refuses to call hell"heaven" and demands that we destroymyths in order to confront reality; heforces us to see the extent to which weare still in conflict so that we may moreclearly see where we have yet to go andour distance from that goal of unity.I would call the effect of this unmask-ing, this exposing, this quite intentionalbreaking down of achieved and utili-tarian unity, a return to what Burke calls"parliamentary wrangle" (p. 188) or"the Human barnyard" (p. 23). Bothmetaphors are quite apt, since withouteven the illusion of cooperation and

24



5/10

ON FIRST READING BURKEunity, men behave as if society were aparliament or a barnyard. There is noidentity among men, only the parliamen-tary wrangle and jangle and haggling ofshrill voices, each representing its ownspecial interests and coveting each gainmade against the competing demands ofthose other special interests. There is noidentity, only the struggle for the barn-yard domain which results in a few vic-torious, preening cocks and a greaternumber of crestfallen losers who findthemselves at the bottom of the peckingorder.With this breakdown of harmony andcooperation, what options are there interms of attitude, feeling, and action?Burke suggests compromise as one op-tion. In the midst of that parliamentarywrangle, each voice can consent to losingchunks and pieces of its interest in orderto preserve some of that interest intact.But at best this compromise is reachedunder duress; the attitude of each specialinterest has not changed fundamentally.Generally, we (and Burke also) wouldanticipate the rapid disintegration of thisunsatisfying, unwieldy, and unstableconsensus.But I think I would go further to saythat parliamentary wrangle is not simplyuncomfortable but is indeed unendur-able. It is unendurable because itthwarts strong and positive action.When we cannot appease rival factionsbut find ourselves left with permanentstrife, we cannot even begin to mobilizethose energies needed to fulfill that fun-damental desire for cohesion and whole-ness. In the case of the neurotic or psy-chotic who has been unmasked, andthus must watch in horror as the bitsand pieces of himself do battle againstone another, this unmasking must leadeither to suicide or the reinstatement ofthe fantasy. Or, as we see in AlexanderTrocchi's novel Cain's Book,4 the chaotic

4AlexanderTrocchi, Cain's Book (New York:Grove Press, 1960).

wrangle of discrete voices ends in ahopeless nihilism. In this fictional ac-count, the journal of a heroin addict, thevoice-and the person and values behindit-change from moment to moment.There is no direction, no consistent de-velopment, not even the slow buildingup of identity. There is just the jangleof discrete moments tied loosely togetheron the same time line. In such a context,Burke's notion of cooperative effortmakes little sense. In terms of action,we have reached a stalemate: strife andshrill controversy come to the forefrontand obscure the sense that action canlead us someplace. There is no place tomove, no direction.In light of this (Burke's insight intothe necessity of a rhetoric which attacks,as well as his insight into the unbearableconsequences of that attack), I thinkBurke's most important contribution isto have provided some response to thestalemate, to have provided a way out.From his discussion of "ultimate terms,"a rhetorical strategy begins to take form.It is a strategy which simultaneouslyunmasks and breaks down "false unity"yet provides us with some inkling of howwe can regain or rebuild cooperation.The use of "ultimate terms" allows usto descend to an otherwise unendurablestate of conflict yet feel that the conflictis a necessary prelude to the buildingof a more genuine, rich cooperation.The key to understanding such astrategy is the chapter "Positive, Dialec-tical, and Ultimate Terms" in A Rhetoricof Motives. Here, the "positive term" isquite literally the substance of the posi-tivist's ideal language: it is the basis ofa physicalist vocabulary in which wordsstand for physical entities. The "dialecticterm" becomes the word or concept forwhich we can find no correlation in thephysical world. It represents the basicunit of a language which cannot be re-duced to the positivist's vocabulary. Itoccupies the realm of values, attitudes,opinions. But left with these two kinds

25



6/10

COLLEGE COMPOSITION AND COMMUNICATIONof terms, we as yet have no way to as-sign any relative value to the terms weuse: all have that equality, that samedegree of vociferousness so clearly evi-dent in the parliamentary wrangle menfind so frustrating. Thus, it is at thispoint that the third term, the "ultimateterm," becomes crucial for human lifeand action. The "ultimate term" is thatconcept, theory or framework which al-lows for the ranking of ideas within ahierarchy, or the identification of con-flicts as stages in a developing process.The relief afforded by this rhetoricalstrategy is beautifully illustrated byBurke's reference to the trade unionistwho is also a Marxist (see p. 196). Theperspective allowed by the Marxistanalysis lets the trade unionist activelyengage himself in a particular conflictand a particular moment, yet also freeshim to understand that conflict and mo-ment as part of a larger struggle whichhas a direction and an outcome.

Marxism, considered as an ultimatevocabulary,also owes much of its per-suasiveness to the way in which itstheory of action fits its theory of order.For if any point, or "moment," n ahierarchicseries can be said to repre-sent, in its limited way, the principleor "perfection"of the ultimate design,then each tiny act shares in the abso-lute meaning of the total act. Thus,the "truth" s not grasped and testedby merely "perceiving"the logic ofthe entire series. Perception must begrounded in enactment, by participa-tion in some local role, so that the un-derstanding of the total order isreached through this partial involve-ment. There is perception from with-,out, made possible throughnonpartici-pation. Or there is local participation,which may become so involved inparticulars hat one never sees beyondthem. But there is a third way, thefullest kind of understanding,whereinone gets the immediacy of participa-tion in a local act, yet sees in andthrough this act an over-all design,sees and feels the local itself as but the

partial expressionof the total develop-ment. The Marxistpersuasion s in thename of this thirdway. (p. 195)Here, we must focus on the phrase"feels the local act," for in terms ofhuman life and potential, it is the feel ofparticular moments that counts. If wefeel the local act, the present moment,as chaotic and static, we have reachedthat unendurable stalemate. Conversely,if we feel the local act as part of a de-veloping whole, we find relief and hope.Now at this point in my study ofBurke, I felt compelled to find some in-stances where I might see this rhetoricalstrategy (the use of ultimate terms) atwork. I wanted to discover how theultimate term affords relief to those whofeel a stalemate, who fear unending con-flict. And, I think I found what I soughtin three areas: in literature itself (DorisLessing's novel, The Golden Notebook5);in the therapeutic context (as estab-lished by Carl Rogers, in particular,6plus Robert Coles and Erik Erikson);and in the biographical record of oneman's discovery of socialism (E. P.Thompson's William Morris: Romanticto Revolutionary).7Doris Lessing's The Golden Notebookpresents us with a crisis in identity. Thenovel is comprised of four notebooks (afictional notebook; a journal; a businessnotebook; a political notebook) intro-duced and tied together within a nar-rative framework. As the narrative be-gins, we learn that Anna, the heroine,

5Doris Lessing, The Golden Notebook (NewYork, Toronto, London: McGraw-Hill BookCo., Inc., 1962).6I am depending, for my sense of Rogers'approach, on the collection of essays (done inconjunction with Barry Stevens, Eugene T.Gendlin, John M. Shlien and Wilson VanDusen) in Person to Person: The Problem ofBeing Human (Walnut Creek, California: RealPeople Press, 1967).7E. P. Thompson, William Morris:Romanticto Revolutionary (London: Lawrence andWishart, Ltd., 1955).

26



7/10

ON FIRST READING BURKEhas been pressured by both friends andher psychiatrist (Mother Sugar) to re-sume her writing career. However, Annahas reached a stalemate. She cannotwrite because, on the one hand, shecomes to believe her one successful andhighly praised novel to have beenfraudulent (its perspective is distortedby nostalgia) and, on the other hand,she cannot fuse the various voices of herfour notebooks into a single voice whichwould "ring true," which would relateher experience truthfully. What we get,then, is the struggle of a person who con-fronts fragments of herself, differentposes and voices, yet cannot endure thelack of cohesion among these fragments.Continually, and painfully, we watchAnna work through one voice and per-spective, only to question or reject it.We watch her submerge herself in an-other voice, only to be tormented by itsinadequate rendering of her life. Wewatch Anna try to write honestly, only tobe alienated from a voice which is moreakin to a tape recorded voice than tothe voice we feel in our throats.

Essentially, then, the novel is the rec-ord of conflict. It is the feel of Burke'sparliamentary wrangle minus any com-promise. However, the novel also in-corporates three images which, I think,are parallel in their effect to an "ultimateterm." In a spontaneous move, Annabuys a beautifully bound golden note-book, and while the notebook remainsblank and empty, it exercises a certainpower. It is the image of an end-pointtoward which Anna feels she must move:the fusion of the four notebooks into onenotebook; the fusion of four voices intoone integrated, harmonious, goldenvoice. Thus, the "golden notebook" isthe symbol of what, on a personal level,is comparable to Burke's surpassing ofthe state of Babel. And, as an ultimateterm, it at once allows Anna to partici-pate in, to suffer through, those fournotebooks which are only fragments ofher total self-and to feel that those

fragments are part of some unfoldingprocess which will culminate in identity.One cannot read this novel without real-izing that the "golden notebook," as anultimate, prevents The Golden Notebookfrom echoing the nihilism of Cain's Book.An image comparable to the "goldennotebook" in its effect, and parallel tothe ultimate term, is Anna's childhoodgame, which she often re-enacts in timesof adult crisis. Essentially, the game isthe creation of perspective. Anna, whenshe finds herself embroiled in crisis,doubt and pain, imagines that she isanother being-still Anna, yet a beingwho can look down upon Anna's bodyfrom a ceiling niche. The game pro-gresses as Anna assumes higher andhigher positions: first she sees only her-self, alone in her room; then she seesherself in the house; then the house inits neighborhood; then the neighborhoodin the whole of London; then Londonin its surrounding countryside; then Eng-land; then an entire hemisphere. Theprocess, of course, is one of "distancing"-not only a spatial distancing but anemotional one. During the game, theemotional tenor shifts from that of con-flict to the peace of contemplation. Andhere, what one cannot help but recallis Burke's beautiful description of thecalming effect of "ultimate terms":

Thus, confrontingthe sort of "dialecti.ical" procedure required when "inter-ests" have been translated into acorresponding terminology of "princi-ples," with parliamentary spokesmenaiming to further their interests some-what by compromising with theirprinciples-we can get a glimpse intoa possible alternative,whereby a some-what formless parliamentarywranglecan, by an "ultimate"vocabulary, becreatively endowed with design. Andeven though the members of the par-liament, being "horse-traders"by na-ture, may not accept this design, itcan have a contemplativeeffect; it canorganize one's attitude towards thestruggles of politics and may suggest

27



8/10

COLLEGE COMPOSITIONAND COMMUNICATIONreasons why one kind of compromiseis, in the long run, to be rated assuperiorto another. (pp. 187-188)

Finally, we discover one more image inThe Golden Notebook which operates,rhetorically, persuasively, to inject someperspective into Anna's life. Anna iscontinually struck (and sometimes an-noyed) by the classical decor of herpsychiatrist's office. Mother Sugar issurrounded by classical sculpture andpainting: the tone of her environment isone of simplicity, clarity, harmony, unity.And somehow, this room comes to repre-sent-as did the "golden notebook" andthe child's game-the end-point towardwhich Anna is moving.The effect of the psychiatrist's office,and more broadly the effect of thetherapeutic context, is what I would liketo consider next as an instance of therhetorical use of ultimate terms. Al-though in my own mind I place ErikErikson and Robert Coles in a clusterfilled out by Carl Rogers, I would liketo limit myself to a consideration ofRogers' rhetorical strategy. The point isnot to evaluate the significance, validityor even the interest of his ideas, but toexamine the effect of his therapeuticstrategy and the similarity of this effectto the consequences of a rhetorical useof ultimate terms.As Norman 0. Brown points out inLife Against Death, Freud ultimatelybecame quite pessimistic about the valueof therapy, about the value of revealingconflicts and strife to a patient. SinceFreud could see these conflicts as ir-resolvable and destructive, he felt thatonce brought to the surface they hadto, almost ironically, be submerged or"sublimated." Conversely, the Rogerianapproach seems to me capable, simul-taneously, of lifting conflict to the sur-face, yet providing some framework inwhich that conflict can be dealt withand overcome. The Rogerian approachrequires the willingness of the patient

to confront painful conflicts and divi-sions, to unmask himself, to recognizethat his values and attitudes are not hisown (and thus coherently related), butthe values of the outside, rife with itsdivisions and contradictions. Yet thatapproach also demands of the patientsome willingness to move, to choose anend-point. And for the patient, it isRogers himself-not as person or per-sonality but as the attitude of "uncondi-tional positive regard"-which becomesthe image of the patient's end-point. Thetherapist does not become the model forwhat the patient will become in termsof attitudes, feelings, behavior, butrather becomes an illustration of the wayin which, ultimately, the patient willregard himself. And, as Rogers makesquite clear in Person to Person, it is thisway of regarding oneself which is thekey to it all, the top of the hierarchy:

While he is learning to listen to him-self he also becomes moreacceptantofhimself. As he expresses more andmore of the hidden aspects of himself,he finds the therapist showing a con-sistent and unconditional positive re-gard for him and his feelings. Slowlyhe moves towardtaking the same atti-tude towardhimself, accepting himselfas he is, and thereforeready to moveforward in the process of being free.(pp. 49-50)Self-acceptance functions as the ulti-mate term which puts all else intoperspective and allows the person to en-dure momentary conflicts as part of themovement toward freedom. Self-accep-tance, as a concept and then as an act,literally persuades the patient to growth,development, maximum integrity.The examples I've discussed aboveare just two out of many in the fields ofliterature and therapy. But when Iturned to the one area Burke uses sorichly and the one area I expected to bemost fruitful-Marxism-I had great dif-ficulty finding what I was looking for. I

28



9/10

ON FIRST READING BURKEwandered through the beginnings of sev-eral novels, hoping to discover a compel-ling description of the way in whichMarxism, as an ultimate vocabulary, af-fords relief, comfort, and a sense of direc-tion. But, surprisingly,these novels seemedflat, dogmatic and strangely impersonal.Perhaps the best example of this isHarvey Swados' book On the Line.8Knowing that Swados sympathized withthe radicals who struggled to "standfast" in their commitments during thetwenties, thirties and forties, I antici-pated that On the Line might dramat-ically convey the power of Marxistthought to support a person in his day-to-day struggles. Unfortunately, I foundthe novel to be a conglomeration ofheavy-handed portraits, a strained at-tempt to describe live human beings interms of scanty abstractions. It was onlywhen I stumbled across E. P. Thomp-son's biography of William Morris thatI found what I was looking for. (Thebiography was doubly powerful for mebecause it not only reflected the curativeeffect of socialist thought [an ultimatevocabulary] on Morris' development,but reflected the biographer's desire toidentify with that development. Thomp-son himself, not only Morris, seemedguided and enlightened by the termsprovided by the socialist vocabulary.)The center of Thompson's biographyis the contrast between Morris' sense ofhimself and society before his discoveryof socialism and after that discovery.And it is from this contrast that we learnmost forcefully the power of an ultimateterm to provide perspective, coherence,and the ability to act with confidence.In Morris' "pre-socialist" days he wastorn by several conflicts. As a youngman, he felt increasingly disgusted byand alienated from Victorian industrialsociety and culture. He was appalled bythe profiteering, by the ethos of Vic-

8Harvey Swados, On the Line (Boston,Toronto: Little, Brown, and Co., 1957).

torian "progress," by the divisions be-tween rich and poor, by the vapidity ofVictorian culture and art. Therefore, andquite logically, his mentor at this timewas John Ruskin, whose analyses of artboth confirmed Morris' sense of the de-generacy of Victorian culture and pushedhim into a nostalgic longing for the past.As Thompson points out in his discus-sions of the early poetry, Morris' aliena-tion from the society in which he foundhimself led to escapist fantasies andwatery medieval romance. But Morriswas stricken not only by the conflictswhich surrounded him in society but bythe conflicts which proceeded from hismarriage to Jane Burden, the pre-Raphaelite beauty. Jane's aloofness andapparent inability to offer the intimacyMorris desired so strongly left him witha void that must have heightened hissense of aloneness, his sense that he wasan aberrant creature in Victorian society.A temporary solution to his isolation waseffected by his establishment of the firmof Morris and Company, a group ofartists and craftsmen who attempted notonly to rejuvenate the arts, but to createa miniature society in which work wasnot oppressive but fulfilling. But, as Imentioned, the solution was and couldbe only a temporary one. Morris was dis-mayed and demoralized by the co-opta-tion of his efforts by those Victorians hemost despised. As Morris and Companybecame well known and in demand,Morris and his craftsmen came simply tobe used by those who wished to purchase(ready-made) good taste and estheticsense-much as they might have pur-chased any commodity (a good ham, anice fabric, a library of books appropri-ate for the "cultured man"). And inview of this, Morris felt his efforts toeffect change dwindle and become in-creasingly trivial. His artistic effortsseemed to afford no relief.

But there was a turning point to Mor-ris' life which, while it did not changethe substance of his activities and work,

29



10/10

COLLEGE COMPOSITIONAND COMMUNICATIONdid radically change his perspective onthose activities and work. As Thompsonmakes quite clear, yet in quite undog-matic fashion, Morris' exposure to andeventual identification with the SocialistLeague in Britain provided the broadoverview which placed his work andconvictions within a larger historicalmovement. Consequently, as Morris be-came increasingly convinced that societycould get beyond the "Victorian slump"and to a state of harmony and coopera-tion, his own turmoil became not non-existent but certainly less pronounced.As with Anna in The Golden Notebook,Morris could endure the moment of his-tory in which he found himself by under-standing it as a moment in the on-goingdevelopment of a unified society. And,as with Anna, his ultimate term affordedthe perspective, the distance, which al-lowed him to struggle with confidenceand hope.Perhaps the logical closure at thispoint is to apply Burke's analysis ofultimate terms, and their persuasivepower, to Burke himself. PerhapsBurke's notion of rhetoric is itself an

ultimate term, a model which shapes ourown attempts to struggle with language.If we see the intelligent and ethical useof persuasion as the end-point to whichwe are moving, then it is the idea of thisend-point which gives significance to ourown individual efforts to capture thatintelligent and ethical use of words.But I think the most appropriate"closure" is not such a tidy wrapping-upof things. Rather the necessary closureis, perhaps, to open up for myself andyou a series of questions about ultimateterms, questions which may temporarilyput the halo askew. When are ultimateterms dangerous things, and why? Whenand can they become dogmatic and op-pressive? When is it necessary to offera critique of ultimate terms? Must we attimes challenge our ultimate terms by ahardnosed look at the particulars, thechaotic experience they are supposed toelucidate? And who are the men andwomen one might locate as believers inan ultimate term, yet determined criticsof it? Seattle, Washington

SPRING CONFERENCE

For details concerning the Spring Conference, see pp. 106 & 107.

30

Thi t t d l d d f 200 75 19 130 T 27 A 2013 19 04 01 PM
http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp

burke rhetoric

Documents