Gearhart's notion of giving up activism is particularly telling. We might think about psychology to further understand her ideas. Often, with small children or stubborn adults, reverse psychology is used to get them to do what the speaker intends, though the opposite is suggested. For example, "I don't want you to eat ALL those green beans" might just make a difficult child eat them, and eat them all. By turning her back on activism, though, I question if Gearhart can actually remain effective. Will her rhetoric be effective? Will she have any followers? Even if there is no enemy, but a system "out there," how can one expect to change anything by doing away with activism? There is a unique parallel here with apathy. I often think political apathy can be a strong way to make (yes, actually make) a statement. For instance, perhaps not voting at all sends a stronger message than voting). Of course, not voting means one's official voice doesn't get tallied, but that's another matter. I suppose that acitivism is, in a way, admitting you are already defeated (though ideal hopes of creating change still exist). If one is content and able to make oneself happy (such as Johnson) then perhaps activism is not needed. Why must we change the world when we can simply change ourself (a much simpler task)?
Bethany

This week I'd like to focus of the B&H book, as well as RR. The religion and science debate seems rather tired to me, though Booth does offer a somewhat unique take on the issue by highlighting the importance of rhetoric. His fascination and obsession with rhetoric is clear, especially in the conclusion. "Your fate, like mine, depends at least partly on the quality of of your listening to the rhetoric that hits you, and the quality of your responses" (172). There is, however, a psychological component missing from his argument. It is one thing to advocated for and even practice LR, but it is another thing entirely to be successful at it. Human debate, dialogue and rhetoric in general are colored by selfish motives, or at the very least a strong desire to convince and/or persuade. LR is simply too objective to account for the inevitable subjectivity of human relations. It's relatively easy to do LR in a laboratory environment, but in the heat of the moment (when rhetoric really seems to matter), passions ignite arguments, and if LR doesn't fall apart completely, its strength and power still suffer. I would like to see Booth's ideas united with psychology in an attempt to explore whether the ideals of LR are simply out of reach of human beings. Again, if LR is most necessary when "fate" or other highly important matters are at stake, any human would have a difficult time practicing it. I would even argue that tensions and wars result from perceptions that become ingrained, thus making LR almost useless in practice, but appealing in theory.
I am perhaps saying that most if not all human being are incapable of LR, so they should not strive to obtain it at all (lest they be hypocrites), but lucky is he who actually possesses the skill.
"I marvel at men who felicitate those who are eloquent by nature on being blessed with a noble gift, and yet rail at those who wish to become eloquent, on the ground that they desire an immoral and debasing education" (79). This quote from Antidosis is particularly relevant, though I suppose there is no harm in trying to practice effective LR. The state of the world calls for something, anything that will lessen tensions and help bring about communication, understanding and peace. If, however, that hasn't happened yet, can it ever? We can hope.
Bethany

Anzaldua's definition of borders is disturbing in that it doesn't seem entirely accurate. She states that "borders are set up to define the places that are safe and unsafe, to distinguish us from them. A border is a dividing line, a narrow strip along a steep edge. A borderland is a vague and undetermined place created by the emotional residue of an unnatural boundary. It is in a constant state of transition" (FRT 106). First, borders do not always define safe versus unsafe. Consider, for example, that I live in the "borderlands" of Michigan and Ohio. I do not feel any shift in safety or lack of it when I enter or exit these two states. The border does distinguish an "us'" from "them" mentality and serves as a dividing line, however. The "vague, undetermined" place is evident upon crossing into Ohio, since there is no speed limit sign. A fewhndred feet into the state, the limit becomes 65 (from 70) in Michigan, but cops often sit at the border, leaving the traveler to simply guess at when the 65 becomes enforceable (and always opting to go slower, of course).
I'd like to suggest that borders can be created first (before cultural divides) and subsequently impose certain inevitable ideologies and cultural perceptions. The SW United States used to be part of Mexico, but an imaginary border was created, which in time became very real and now serves as justification for (in some cases) racism and the "us" versus "them" mentality. Can such divisions exists in cultures before borders are created, though? Pretend territory X has two groups that don't get along. Obviously the political tensions and social climate already exist. Then slap a border between the two groups as a means of validating the irreconcilable differences between the groups. I think it's important to realize that borders can are are created as a response to social climate, though they can also preexist and help create the cultural climate.
If we want a close to home example of how borders can cause great emotional turmoil and psychotic passionate tendencies, think of Michigan vs. Ohio football. That's an issue that's worthy of a book...
Bethany

I'm pleased to read that Booth admits the term media "is radically ambiguous" (31). The proliferation of negative connotations and corruptions associated with the "media" has always bothered me, since I never heard a good definition of what this media actually is, and where it is. If I don't watch tv (which is true), and if I don't get newspapers and magazines (which is not true), how does the media reach me? There are numerous billboards I see on my way to BG, of course, and the car radio is full of commercials, which I always turn off. It doesn't actually seem that difficult to live in this society and ignore much of the media. I am of course assuming a rather traditional definition of media that includes tv, the radio, newspapers, magazines and billboards. The influence of these examples reaches classrooms and public spaces, but I think the media starts from sources that are publicly available.
Also, the idea of "corruption" in the media (USA) is difficult to believe. I don't doubt corruption's existence some of the time, as there are new scandals everyday. Yet, news stations obviously have to make choices about what to show. Does this choosing reflect bias? Yes. Does it reflect the unethical nature of the people in charge? Not necessarily. The journalism classes and newspaper experience I've had all pointed in one direction---avoid bias and be objective. The instructors tried very hard to instill this value in students. I cannot believe there is intentional corruption in the media in MOST cases, at least in the USA. I simply think that choices are made every day about what to portray and what to leave out. "Bad" news is reported more often because it's interesting, let's face it. I'll leave out political reporting because politics seems to inherently corrupt people. The 20th century has witnessed a huge increase in the media and its availability to the public, yet any corruption can usually be traced to the fact that money is behind the ads. People want to make money, and corruption isn't too far behind in such cases. The key is that it's not the media (however we define it) that's corrupt, but the business ventures behind it.

Starhawk's paganism and Witchcraft provide an excellent example of how connotations allow us to draw conclusions---and perhaps not always accurate ones. Both paganism and Witchcraft conjure up sinister images for me, exactly the "woman on a broom" image that Starhawk mentions. Bending energy and shaping consciousness, as well as weaving new possibilities, is certainly a different way of looking at Witchcraft, though perhaps it's a bit vague. Why, when something is named, does it suddenly become more powerful and meaningful? In this respect, Daly and Kramarae (from last week) were right! Words can change mindsets. For example, in my faith (Catholicism) witchcraft is something awful; one simply doesn't follow it. Yet, if a Catholic mentioned he or she bent energy and shaped consciousness, perhaps that would be less threatening. After all, "love for life in all its forms is the basic ethic of Witchcraft" (Foss, Foss and Griffin 146 RFRT), which is also true for catholicism.
Starhawk's attraction to witchcraft seems only natural given her definition of patriarchy, which she says is "the belief that some people are more valuable than others (Foss, Foss and Griffin FRT 166). Witchcraft itself seems to be more feminine than masculine. Sometimes Starhawk strikes me as similar to Paula Gunn Allen, though, in that both seem to live on the edge of society and dapple in what's considered abnormal. Their credibility is thus lessened, at least in my mind. It seems as though Starhawk tries so hard to assert herself as a woman that she feels it's necessary to join a group with clearly defined (and unusual) practices, to somehow make up for the oppression she faces in society, if that's indeed the case. At the same time, if a feminist tries to change mindsets and society by appealing to the status quo, and hence patriarchal values, she is in a sense undermining her very values, so perhaps Starhawk's approach is sane after all. I question, though, how seriously men (not all men, of course, since she doesn't want to lump them together) take her given her nontraditional means of embracing feminism.

Both Kramarae and Daly put a lot of faith in the power of words. As rhetoricians, they should, but I question if they are perhaps idealistic. Kramarae advocates using vocabulary as a means of allowing it to enter common conversations, thereby changing mindsets and ultimately making society a more hospitable place for women. She mentions a theory in which women "adapt their ideas and expressions in order to speak through the communicative modes of men" (19). I'm not convinced the communicative modes of men and women differ enough to draw any conclusions. We might be able to find certain patterns, but these are likely the result of upbringing, education, and individual circumstances.
Daly, on the other hand, goes so far as to change established words through punctuation. For example, gynecology becomes gyn/ecology. Reading her work seems very foreign to me. I was constantly slowed down and distracted by her odd punctuation. In addition, her "new" words meant little to me unless the definition was explained. I therefore question how effective her prose really is. Most of my annotations on her readings said "She's insane," or "that's insane." The background and foreground might be an effective conceptual representation of society, but her ideas in general are far from concrete, and she gets caught up in the creation of words. If her goal is to create change, I doubt she can do it through language (sadly).
Her actions were quite inspiring, such as sticking with Boston College through years of discrimination and tenure refusals. The readings, however, did not provide adequate insights into the side of Boston College itself, so I felt like I was not getting the whole story. I was persuaded to fight for her side, however, so the readings were an example of effective rhetoric in that regard.

"Genesis" Poetic Metaphor" seemed to create an unnecessary dichotomy regarding metaphor creation. I would argue that metaphors are not always created for the reader, and nor are they always created in a more unconscious moment by the writer. The very act of metaphor creation cannot be easily contemplated. When I try to think of how I produce metaphors, my mind goes fuzzy. The process is not one we often contemplate. When I want my reader to understand a certain point (usually when speaking to a young child, or when presenting complex material to any audience), I consciously think about a metaphor that will be most suitable. Sometimes, though, as I'm writing, metaphors simply come to mind. They seem appropriate upon introspection, but I cannot recall consciously creating them. When I write fiction, I do hope my metaphors tend to "produce a pleasant titillation of the reader's fantasy (38)," but I do not necessarily create the metaphors FOR the reader. Is there an artificial origin to metaphor? It is unlikely that the exact nanosecond in which a metaphor is created can be captured, let alone studied. Therefore, speculating about metaphors is speculation at best. While this piece does provide an intelligent psychological, theoretic basis, discovering human motivation is not an exact science. If we think too much about metaphors, they lose their allure. They are "a real organism, living, growing and dying (44), " and that's only natural, as they come from the human mind.
Burke, in "Four Master Tropes," also questions how we produce a certain state in an observer. He says "the aim of such embodiment is to produce in the observer a correspopnding state of consciousness...(509)." This quote reminds me of art. When we paint, for example, do we intend to create a certain reaction in the viewer, or do we simply follow our inspiration in blind moments of passion (similar to the almost instantaneous creation of a metaphor)?