Strategies of Discourse

I have made an effort to take a step back from my micro-critiques of power (i.e. writing things about the ideology that sprouts from the head of orange hair – albeit not from its mind) in order to wrestle with more fundamental problems of discourse. So far this year the problems of discourse have arrived in the form of “fake news,” in the form of “the media,” in the form of a leader who really does not know heads from tails, and in the form of social media in general.

Keeping the words of Michel Foucault in the back of our minds, one must navigate discourse always with the notion that knowledge and power are correlative matters. That is, that discourses of knowledge disclose themselves as spaces of power, and, vice-versa, that spaces of power always have related discourses of knowledge tied to them. This is why in Discipline and Punish Foucault observes the presence of ultimate truth only within the domain of the public execution; and this is why in The History of Sexuality the notion of a biopower, and its knowledge of objectified life, is so disconcerting.

So the deployment of discourse is always strategic. This should not be surprising to us. I’ve been enjoying reading, as I’ve mentioned before on this blog, Cicero’s speeches against the corrupt Sicilian governor Verres. His strategy is incredibly concise, and every direction that Hortensius might turn to defend his client is removed, step-by-step, by Cicero’s rhetorical brilliance. The speeches of the In Verrem are rightly called those that made Cicero known throughout Rome as the empire’s master of rhetoric. Rhetoric, in the Ciceronian tradition, is always demonstrating some type of strategy to accomplish its ends. A piece of written work is always revealing not only its rhetorical style but also its power and purpose.

I bring Foucault and Cicero together here because I think it is worthwhile to observe the ways in which modern discourse functions, and I do this because I think that discourse functions in accordance with its internal rhetorical-strategy even in spite of its writer’s intentions. We like to think that our words function as we like them to; but the severe truth that any writer who is worth their weight knows is that words have more life than we can bridle, and that the skilled writer must recognize the living qualities of words, respect it, and “tame” it, if possible, in order to accomplish their ends. Cicero was the master of this (so was Petrarch; and the Apostle Paul, I must add). Yet most modern discussants are not Cicero.

Instead, we literary-hacks, we half-bred writers are throwing words out into space that have no relation with one another. In moments of brilliance or genius – but not of talent or skill – we finally communicate what it is we mean to communicate; but most of the time we miss entirely how to operate within our own discourses. Social media aggravates this, of course. Whereas in a blog post – like this one – or a journal article, the audience is some neutral, unengaged spectator whose responses, if they happen, occur in another medium – a journal article response, or a comment on Facebook – in social media, instead, the audience is a thoroughly engaged and absolutely non-neutral figure. Even moreso, the audience is no “faceless” mass; they are definitionally “faced.” They have some real presence on the discourse being presented, not as neutral discussants or interlocutors, but as people who disagree.

And as such, the strategies of discourse are dislocated and unbalanced. Rhetorical methods that have historically been tried and true do not fit this new space, and when they are attempted to be brought into it, they transform that space and provide it with some moral or intellectual character that is not intrinsic to it. This, too, further perpetuates the alienation that exists within the social media.

So words, maybe targeted and planned, come under different powers when planted in the worlds of social media. Somehow their rhetorical structures divide and are dismantled. Discourse that would have been effective as standard oratory (in Ciceronian ways) or as an essay becomes different, with different implications and underlying meanings, in the social media. To follow Foucault again, Power is at play here, in some manner.

Power, in the traditional discourses, is located in the speaker, or in the powers-that-be that allow the speaker space (e.g. editors, reviewers, publishers). But in these new discourses, power is located in the community at large. Power is distributed across many discourses, many specialties, and many voices. It is a little confusing and a little off-putting to be surrounded all at once by so many voices speaking all at the same time. They are all clamoring for Truth because there’s a way in which their Power could be held onto if they can manage to grasp Truth.

But Truth in the social media discourse, in the new discourses, is harder to hold on to. Maybe this is the more disconcerting undercurrent beneath all “fake news” / “post-truth” phenomena: not that we have become such relativists that Truth is up for debate, nor that we have created such untrustworthy powers that claim non-truths as Truth, nor that we have political engines that declaim what is and is not Truth, but instead that our very discourse has become a continual reaching-for and grasping-at Truth without ever actually holding it. It’s a game of hot potato.

It’s a game of Power, of course, too.

Where is Cicero?

Last night I read one of Cicero's speeches.

For those unfamiliar: Marcus Tullius Cicero was a Roman statesman, a prolific writer, a true Republic-an (i.e. man of the Republic), and, without any doubt, the foundational rhetorician underneath all of Western thought, argument, and discourse. He was later loved and received by such great minds as St. Augustine and Francesco Petrarch.

In the speech, Cicero is stating the case against Verres, a corrupt governor of Sicily. Verres was an inexcusable man - he stole money from the coffers of the state, he imprisoned and executed peasants at random, his actions resulted in the decimation of the Sicilian navy. And, yet, he was also a very wealthy person. At the time of his trial, it was well known how easily a jury could be bought and bribed. However, unfortunate for him, the jury so-selected at the time of Cicero's charge against him was one unfavorable to bribes. His strategy - and the strategy of his consul Hortensius - was simple: Let Cicero make his remarks now (in late summer), and we will give the full time to respond. That will put us into the upcoming series of festivals, the trials will be placed on hold, and, come January, we will have a new jury, one more pliable by money.

Cicero, of course, sees through this mockery of justice, and he makes his own plans in order to counter his opponent.

What struck me as absolutely incredible, however, is the way in which Cicero frames his argument. He tells the jurors that their ability to administer justice has lost its value in the eyes of the Romans people. If they fail to indict such a damnable person as Verres then they will prove the uselessness of the Roman courts, discredit the value of Roman justice, and tell the whole world that Rome is such a place that money can buy one's innocence, rather than the exercise of true, just, wise judgment.

But if they successfully indict Verres, then they will declare the opposite claim to the Roman people: we will not accept bribes, nor will we accept money, in order to influence our beliefs of what is just, what is right, and what is acceptable in Rome.

What struck me in this speech - something that always strikes me with Cicero - is how truly a "man of Rome" Cicero is. In a later speech against Marc Antony - a speech that would cost him his life - Cicero declares that a person who assaults him is also a person who assaults Rome. How many men could say this with regards to their country? Or, more importantly than the "nation," with regards to the relationship they hold with the ideals embodied by their country? For, truly, Cicero is not nearly as much a "true Roman" (although he is) as he is a "true Republic-an," a true believer in the ways of administering secular justice. He is aware of man's fallible, weak, and evil nature, but he is convinced that men still have the ability to judge amidst themselves well.

Maybe Cicero is a little idealistic. Maybe he has read Plato too much. But it strikes me that in the sort of season of American history wherein we find ourselves that we have a great many Verres-es about. Verres exists on the Right, in the forms of, say, individuals whose financial contributions secure votes; Verres exists on the Left, in the forms of, say, individuals whose received financial contributions secure foreign policy. But where is our Cicero? What has become of him?

Truly, I am concerned that the bifurcation of our society into camps - Left, Right, Libertarian, Socialist - prevents the true administration of Justice, in the commonly-held, commonly-understood, secular manner. The political "tribes" (or totems) have their own epistemologies, entire ready-made worldviews that are accessible not via reasoning, nor debate, nor discourse, but via microwave, through fast-food, as it were. Most political commentators - professional and Facebook - are not true debaters or discussants. Most are tribalists, fed the same way we feed our children at McDonald's: crap that doesn't cost much, doesn't provide much nutrition, and gives you a little toy to make you feel special.

A true Cicero of today would eschew the paltry boundaries of tribalism within the American political discourse and would resolutely stand firm upon the foundational claims made by the American political experiment - something liberty and justice for all, or the inalienable rights to Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Happiness. A true Cicero of today would not be a pundit of the sides, but would point out the evils of corruption regardless of its colors.

Truthfully, I am tired of Veres, in his various forms, buying off jurors and stealing from Sicily. Would that we would see new modern Ciceros arise to combat these foes, whose aim is their own bellies and whose fruit will be our destruction if we do not respond to them.

A Short Poem. On Writer's Block.

(02/06/17)

My mind is too full.
But my paper is too empty.
My pen stands still.