My Blog Reflects on Visual Rhetorical Theory and Disability Rhetoric and their Connections to Classical and Contemporary Rhetorical Theory
Name: Rochelle
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I was watching X-Men III during the summer, and I kept thinking of the movie's plot in terms of Disability Rhetoric. While I've heard commentary connecting the movie's premise (that mutants can be "cured" with a new experimental drug) to debates regarding homosexuality and whether it can be "cured," I think the movie's plot raises interesting issues concerning the value of "normalcy" as it relates to visible and invisible disabilities. Likewise, it also raises concerns regarding how much an individual's disability constitutes a person's identity and the value of that disability.
Looking at the movie through a disability rhetoric lens, the medical community considers disabilities as "mutations" of the "normal," whereas, disability scholars consider disabilities not to be abnormal biology but a biology that differs from the status quo. From the biological point of view, disabilities reflect negatively on the "normal" physical and mental body. But, in disability studies, the disability does not take on negative connotations--and in many instances is considered a positive attribute to one's existence.
It seems to me that looking at the movie from a disability rhetoric point of view requires one to examine the importance of "neutrality" in regard to mutation. Namely, this difference between mutation/disability as negative or as neutral was what differentiated between the mutants, like Storm or Wolverine, who saw their disabilities as neutral or constitutive features of themselves and their "personhood" and those (namely, non-mutants) who wanted to eradicate the mutations with a vaccine, thereby neutralizing what is considered a negative mutation. Both groups were attempting to neutralize what is considered beyond "normal."
The movie illustrated the controversies involved with this kind of neutralization well, I think. This same kind of discussion occurs presently when the medical community introduces technology that can "cure" blindness or deafness. For instance, the controversies involved in the deaf community regarding cochlear implants reflects this struggle between being accepted by the community-at-large, with one's "mutation," and attempting to have one's mutation "fixed."
Trying to "fix" one's mutation/disability is also interesting considering Bakhtin's discussion of chronotope from "Chronotope of Time and Space in the Novel." Specifically, Bakhtin's theory argues that all human existence exists in a specific time and space. While Kant argues that human experience the transcendental experience of time and space together, Bakhtin argues that there is nothing transcendental about the experience--experience is contingent on the space and time of the moment. Therefore, in the regard to disability rhetoric and the movie, it seems like the attempt to "fix" one's mutation/disability acknowledges that there is a "normal" or "perfect" form of a person that exists beyond the disability. That the person/mutant would be that same person/mutant without the disability. In this case, the disability/mutation does not contribute chronotopically to the person. However, as the movie and disability scholars like Leonard Davis acknowledge, a person exists as he/she does because of his/her disabilities, not in spite of them.
Ignoring the chronotope of disability/mutation seems reminiscent of Plato's discussion of the "forms" or Aristotle's discussion of "universals." Namely, an ideal "form" or "universal" person exists--there is a perfect version of "human," "woman," "Rochelle." But, a disability/mutation illustrates one's divergence from this "universal" or "form." However, Bakhtin's discussion of chronotope argues that there is no "universal" or "form" that exists beyond the space and time of the moment. I wouldn't be "Rochelle" in other space and time; likewise, people with disabilities/mutations wouldn't be who they are in different times and spaces.
On
However, Autism Everyday has came under intense scrutiny in the past couple months for its negative and fatalistic portrayal of autistic children and the struggles parents face when raising autistic children. Critics like Dr. Kristina Chew at AutismVox, autistic blogger Kassiane, and the organization Not Dead Yet have charged that this video portrays autistic children as economic and emotional burdens on their families. One alarming part of the documentary shows a mother discussing (in front of her autistic child) how she's contemplated driving herself and her autistic daughter off of the
A rhetorical analysis based on Kenneth Burke's theory of cluster criticism of the short documentary (it runs approximately 14 minutes long) would support Chew, Kassiane, and NDY's criticisms. Specifically, the directors predominately show throughout the movie the burdens and heartbreak associated with raising a child with autism. The mothers interviewed in the documentary make statements that
Likewise, supporters of the movie argue that it "was the most realistic portrayal of the struggles and heartbreaks of autism [...] ever seen. It was realistic, did not just show the 'success' stories, and did not glorify autism" and that the video "really hits home [...in regard to] children suffering from different forms of the disorder. The pain and frustration that families of autistic children go through was powerfully conveyed" (Autism Everyday).
Again, such descriptors as "heartbreaking," "angry," "helpless," and "suffering" illustrate the common ideological and rhetorical thread throughout the movie that autistic children are emotional and financial burdens on their families. In fact, the mothers only mention the words "loving" and "hope" in the final minute of the movie and there is no discussion in regard to the children's accomplishments, potentials, or capabilities. The autistic children throughout the movie are portrayed overwhelmingly negative and tragically.
What might be the purpose of funding and distributing a documentary that portrays autism so negatively, especially considering Autism Speaks' mission of "funding global biomedical research [...]; raising public awareness about autism [...]; and to bring hope to all who deal with the hardships of this disorder"? I believe that the rhetoric within the movie answers this question. If we're to accept that producers Lauren Thierry, Jim Watkins, and Eric Solomon selectively choose the footage that was to be used in the final cut, such words as "cure" and "prevention" further the organization's mission--finding a "cure" and "preventing" autism. This movie, then, helps support the Autism Speaks' cause of raising money for autism research aimed at "curing" and "preventing" autism.
Portraying autism as the tragedy that defines one's life is an emotional appeal that plays on the heartstrings (and wallets) of viewers. Would it have been as effective to discuss the biological or behavioral factors that contribute to the frustrations associated with autism? No, probably not. Seeing frustrated and frazzled, white, divorced, middle-aged women is more effective at garnering a "sympathy" response from audiences than seeing women who deal with autism day-in and day-out but live a relatively "normal" life--a life that isn't fatalistically defined by autism. Who would contribute money for a cause that isn't "terrible," "heartbreaking," and "devastating" in every possible way?
Important to note, though, is that it's sentiments like these, that autism is a heartbreaking disorder that leaves parents shattered and children suffering and struggling, that seem to reinforce the ideology that it's okay to murder one's autistic child. These children, it would seem, bring nothing but misery and hopelessness onto their families. This ideological stance argues that murdering the disabled is probably the best thing for the children, their families, and society-at-large. And, it's for this reason that it's important to identify the rhetorical clusters that construct the ideologies of autism.
However, this ideological stance is not indicative of the entire autism communities' approach to autism research, funding, and support. In fact, groups like the Autism Assembly "share the common goal of seeking acceptance for those on the autistic spectrum, who aim to educate about autism, and who are not seeking a cure for autism. This is part of the global autism rights movement." Therefore, if the movie were produced for a different organization, one that supports acceptance and does not support a "cure" for autism, the rhetorical "clusters" might've been completely different.
Update: As of 11/7/06, Karen McCarron has been found competant to stand trial for the murder of his daughter. WJBC.com
In my Film as Rhetoric course this week, we are watching the documentary Why We Fight (2005), a scathing film that argues that the Bush Administration manipulated the media into selling the war in Iraq as retribution for the events of 9/11. Likewise, the Bush Administration has escalated the "industrialized military complex" to such an extent that America's foreign policy is dictated by the economics of war. WWF director Eugene Jarecki comes short of saying that the White House's foreign policy has been corrupted for decades by Defense Contractors, like Lockheed Martin, Boeing, and Halliburton, who gain enormous profits on the business of war. But, while watching the film, though, I immediately thought of Michael Moore's documentary Fahrenheit 9/11. And, while Moore is one of the most recognizable documentary filmmakers, I think there were interesting rhetorical differences between WWF and F9/11. Specifically, Jarecki seems to rely on the Aristotilean appeal of ethos and logos (as discussed in Book 1, Chapter 2 of Rhetoric); whereas, Moore seems to rely primarily on pathos than the other two appeals.
For instance, Jarecki does not comment directly on the Iraqi war but uses political advisors, military personnel, and several American citizens to provide the dialogue and commentary throughout the film. Jarecki enables these individuals to comment on the war without having to speak directly on the topic himself. Jarecki, then, relies on the ethos of the speakers to present the historical and political information, or the logos. As Bill Nichols notes in Introduction to Documentary, this rhetorical choice "implies a content-orientated desire to convey information, rely on facts, and make points about the world" (15). Additionally, Jarecki doesn't rely on elaborate or highly stylized graphics to illustrate his points. The authorities look right off camera and the camera is pulled into tightly framed, close-up, and eye-level shots. Specifically, Jarecki uses eye-level shots because they enable the audience to "forget that there's a camera at all" (Giannetti 14). In this case, if the audience forgets that there's a camera, they accept the authority or ethos of the speakers because their commentary doesn't appear to be crafted or produced by a non-objective filmmaker.
However, Moore relies on quick editing and graphics to help convey his message to audiences in F9/11. For instance, in F9/11, Moore argues that the American public was misled by the Bush administration through the American media--a media that, by continuing to serve the interests of the government over the interests of its audience, was aloof and disconnected from that very audience. In order to convey that sense of disconnection, misinformation, and confusion, Moore uses grainy newsfootage that appears filmed off of a television prompter and quick editing of shots. In fact, the tempo of F9/11 is significantly faster than the tempo in WWF--as can be seen in the musical selections between the two movies. (Moore relies on more upbeat, contemporary music that often provides additional commentary to the topic while Jarecki uses classical and soft background music as a means of transitioning and connecting sequences.) Likewise, Moore's voice can be heard commenting and narrating the movie--an effect that helps Moore to direct his audiences' responses.
I don't point out these rhetorical differences to imply that one filmmaker is more effective or "better" than another; rather, these differences illustrate the rhetorical choices made by the respective directors and that different rhetorical appeals are more effective for different audiences. I might argue, though, considering the popularity of Moore's work in contrast to Jarecki's that the American public is more easily persuaded by pathos-based appeals. However, I found Jarecki's historical examination of American foreign policy extremely effective and might argue that Jarecki, while not as appealing to such a wide audience, is the better filmmaker because I felt like he treats his audience as if they were intelligent, compentant individuals who are able to make rational decisions when given all of the information (a point he goes back to throughout his movie--an issue he raises with the media and the Bush Administration, as well). However, who knows what's really the case? Are Americans capable of distinguishing ethos and logos from pathos? Probably not--which is why Moore is the more popular filmmaker of the two. Afterall, we're still in Iraq fighting a war (I never supported or believed in to begin with) because of the pathos of 9/11. A pathos-based appeal that manipulated American's senses of fear, patriotism, security, revenge, and smite.
Fahrenheit 9/11. Dir Michael Moore. 2004.
Giannetti, Louis. Understanding Movies. 10th ed. Upper Saddle River, NJ: Pearson Prentice Hall, 2005.
Nichols, Bill. Introduction to Documentary. Bloomington, ID: Indiana UP, 2001.
Why We Fight. Dir Eugene Jarecki. 2005.
While driving down the highway, one can’t help but notice car after car with magnetic ribbons positioned on bumpers, trunks, and fenders. Ribbons that urge fellow drivers to have “Autism Awareness,” “Fight Breast Cancer,” or “Be an Organ Donor.” And, most popular or, at least most recognizable are the yellow “Support Our Troops” ribbons that seem to have started the craze. These magnetic ribbons, available at many convenience and discount retail stores, allowed drivers to (affordably) proclaim their patriotism to the public-at-large. In the years following the events of September 11, 2001, magnetic yellow ribbons seem to be an inexpensive way for millions of Americans to support their country and its troops. And, because of the popularity of these ribbons, other organizations began selling them to draw attention to their own causes.
I’ve always felt uneasy about these public displays of patriotism and social activism because, for instance, the yellow “Support Our Troops” rely on Christian iconology and a “feminized” rhetoric that actually discourages a public discourse regarding the war in Iraq. The yellow “Support Our Troops” ribbons seem to be an attempt to rally support and to avoid the public condemnation as witnessed during the Vietnam conflict. As Dana L. Cloud notes in her article “Operation Public Comfort,” “Persian Gulf War presidential and news versions of the Vietnam War continually suggested that lack of support was the major cause of the ‘failure’ of the U.S. troops in the Vietnam War” (Foss 310). And, now in the years following the events of 9/11, George W. Bush made it perfectly clear in his speech to the nation that one was either “with us” or “with the terrorists.” Any kind of dissent, then, equates to a lack of support for one’s country and one’s troops who protect that country. No longer is civil protest “a social disease” that would lead to a reoccurrence of the “epidemic of the ‘Vietnam Syndrome’” (Foss 303); civil protest would only empower the terrorists who carried out the events of 9/11. As such, the slogan “Support Our Troops” comes across as an explicit command, squashing any kind of dissonance or public debate.
Additionally, the yellow “Support Our Troops” magnetic ribbons rely on Christian iconology to convey its meaning—an iconology that perpetuates a faith-based, Crusades-type conflict between Christians and Muslims—since if one is to turn the ribbon to 90 degrees, the magnetic ribbon resembles the Christian “fish.” This distinction between Christian-support and Muslim-aggression seems to reiterate the dualism that one is either “with us” or “with the terrorists.” And, to extend this dualism further, one is either a Christian “with the troops” or not a Christian “against them.” In this case, the yellow magnetic ribbons seem to rely on Christian tenets of faith and obedience particularly when coupled with a feminized unquestioning “support.”
Specifically, the yellow “Support Our Troops” ribbons feminize the conflict by using materials associated with “woman’s work” and by encouraging the public to “support” passively the government without contention or criticism. As Cloud notes in regard to the yellow cloth ribbons that adorned doors, trees, and flagpoles during Desert Storm, “‘Support’—translated to mean uncritical acceptance of existing conditions and one’s ultimate powerlessness to do anything to chance them—was the order of the day. The therapeutic function was to nullify anger and to silence debate in the context of an emotional mutuality that precluded political discussion” (Foss 308). By encouraging passivity in a feminized context, the magnetic ribbons diminish public debate by relying on gender roles that frame one’s reaction to the war in Iraq in “emotional terms” since public dissent is, as Cloud notes, “excluded in favor of nurturing and protecting others from potential critique” (Foss 308).
Perhaps another troublesome aspect, for me, in regard to the popularization of the yellow ribbons is that other groups have begun distributing similar magnet ribbons in an attempt to raise awareness or funding for specific causes. For instance, I’ve seen pink ribbons supporting breast cancer awareness, purple ribbons encouraging others to be organ donors, and puzzle ribbons advocating that we must “cure Autism now.” However, these magnetic ribbons began initially as patriotic symbols to “support the troops”; consequently, this (uncomfortable) war metaphor has been extended to illnesses, diseases, and disabilities that simultaneously encourage the public to “fight” against these causes but through passive means of support and awareness. However, whether the ribbons are pink, purple, or yellow, they each rely on “traditional and oppressive constructions of womanhood and family to enforce a sense of […] emotional unity” that rejects criticism, debate, and division.
Foss, Sonja K. “Operation Desert Comfort.” Rhetorical Criticism: Exploration and Practice. 2nd ed. Prospect Heights, Ill: Waveland Press, 1996.
I need to recognize Kristen Garrison for her paper on war metaphors in breast cancer discourses.
I'm working steadily on my readings in Visual Rhetoric for my third area and I've been thinking about what I plan to blog about this semester. Visual Rhetoric has always been an interest of mine, especially the rhetoric of photographs, ever since I was a teenager and I would pour over photo albums of relatives long past. I would sit trying to imagine the scene moments before and after the photograph was taken, staring at the clothing worn by the people in the photo, the background of the photographs. I was particularly interested in the black and white photographs of my grandmother who died months before I was born.
And, while I've always been interested in photography and visual rhetoric, I've felt like my interests were "less than scholarly," hence my incessant need to justify this area of interest that underlies many of my papers and posts. It certainly didn't help when I was writing my MA thesis that a professor of American Literature asked quite cattily if my thesis was going to be about 2 pages. "After all, what is there really to say about visual rhetoric? It's not like you can prove any of it."
Well, there is a lot to say about visual rhetoric--the hundreds of books and articles discussing visual rhetoric prove that point. And, the fact that the Texas Board of Education has now included visual literacy as a component of the state assessment exam, I would argue that there are plenty of people who are concerned with visual rhetoric. And, while I can't "prove" any of it, that isn't really the point.
Still, my feelings of hesitation in regard to my interests, like with my thesis, continued. In my thesis, specifically, I argued that images cannot be examined without regard for the texts that audiences have read or the texts that authors include with the images. I argued that images and texts together constitute the image-text genre. However, I could find little that discussed the importance of texts in regard to images. Textual or spoken discourse was hardly discussed in regard to the interpretation of photographs. After all, photographs are messages without codes (a la Barthes).
But, as a rhetorician, I couldn't and still can't discredit the profound influence of texts on our interpretation of images. This is perhaps why I've found W. J. T. Mitchell's Picture Theory such an interesting and relevant look at the ways in which image's meanings are constructed by the contexts in which they appear. However, while I examined the influence of texts on images through genre theory, Mitchell through semiotics. Mitchell examines the "Pictorial Turn," or the cultural move from primary textual communication to mixed media--primarily the conjunction of images and texts. Mitchell discusses the ways in which audiences use images and texts together in particular, isolated situations to create meaning. Mitchell and I both address the inadequacy rhetoricians often experience when trying to appropriate a textual-based criticism on visual media. For me and my studies, Mitchell's book served 1) to illustrate the work that still needs to be done in the field of visual rhetoric and 2) how proud I am of the work I did on my thesis. It may not have been as comprehensive as I would've liked it to have been, but Mitchell's book showed me that I'm on the right track...
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