Journal One
Three years ago, when I was readying my application to San Diego State University’s (SDSU) Department of Rhetoric and Writing Studies (RWS), I met with several of the faculty to ask some preparatory questions. One professor was especially kind—even going as far as providing me with guidance as I created the application’s writing sample. Aside from this generous act, one moment of my meeting with her sticks with me to this day. This professor, an otherwise collegial and congenial woman, suddenly turned quite serious. She then reminded me, entirely unprompted, that rhetoric is not English, and English is not rhetoric. I had the same uneasy feeling one has when accidentally interrupting two strangers arguing. I didn’t ask any questions at that time, but I knew that something not entirely friendly must have happened between these two departments—rhetoric and English. But what was it?
During my time at SDSU, additional pieces of this mystery have trickled out here and there. For instance, I learned that RWS houses SDSU’s undergraduate composition courses, which is a rather uncommon arrangement. I also discovered that that these composition courses had previously been under the purview of the English Department.
Thankfully, this week’s reading, Sherry Burgus Little and Shirley K. Rose’s “A Home of Our Own: Establishing a Department of Rhetoric and Writing Studies at San Diego State University,” helps to answer my questions about this difficult period. In it, Little and Rose describe the fraught three-year debate that finally led to the creation of the RWS Department at SDSU. During this time, the English Department was the principal opponent. Ultimately, the authors furnish a suite of arguments that might serve as a roadmap for other composition departments seeking to assert their independence.
However, this text does more than solve my personal mystery. I contend that “A Home of Our Own” is a unique example of argumentation for two reasons. First, it deals with workplace politics, a real-world concern about which tempers run hot. Second, it was created by scholars who study the operation of arguments in granular detail. How would these scholars fare when their own reputations and livelihoods were on the line? How effectively would they argue? And what form would their arguments take?
In what follows, I perform a brief rhetorical analysis of “A Home of Our Own,” in which I analyze and evaluate certain of its major claims, strategies, and appeals. I argue that, beneath the text’s logical deconstruction of objections to RWS, there is a potent emotional core: the rhetorical construction of RWS as a sympathetic underdog. Ultimately, it is the interplay of these two rhetorical strategies—deconstructing objections while constructing pathos—that drives the text’s persuasiveness.
The most visible rhetorical strategy in “A Home of Our Own” is a lengthy inventory of eight deconstructed objections to the existence of an RWS department. These objections, which range from the philosophical to the pedestrian, form the structural backbone of the text. Each objection is logically dealt with in turn, some by providing solutions [e.g. letting English grad students teach composition (20)] and some by referencing historical facts [e.g. composition predates the formal study of English in American universities (19–20)]. Taken together, these eight deconstructed objections would likely persuade an audience of writing program administrators (WPAs) that Little and Rose are skilled and thorough advocates for the discipline of writing studies. As such, this rhetorical strategy serves to burnish the authors’ argumentative and reputational bona fides. In other words, the inventory creates a twofold rhetorical appeal to logos and ethos. The audience will likely conclude that Little and Rose have cannily deployed their knowledge of argumentation to produce a tangible success: the creation of the Department of RWS.
The second major rhetorical strategy in “A Home of Our Own” involves reframing the RWS department as a sympathetic underdog character. For instance, the title “A Home of Our Own,” and its attendant metaphor of a child (RWS) leaving the nest (English) and entering the wider world is readily identifiable for an audience of educators who regularly work with young people (16). For an audience so composed, a measure of sympathy for young people is nearly mandatory, and this rhetorical strategy effectively taps into these deep emotional bonds. Little and Rose further develop this notion of RWS-as-underdog when they state, “Generally, if not universally, writing programs are marginalized and under-supported intellectually and materially in our academic institutions” (23). Thus, not only is RWS likened to a young person first making their way in the world, it is also facing the long odds of marginalization. This underdog metaphor effectively overrides the previous, less identifiable trope: the marriage that ends in divorce (16).
Together, the interplay of these two rhetorical strategies—deconstructing objections while constructing pathos—creates a formidably persuasive text. The former provides appeals to credibility and logical reasoning, and the latter adroitly reframes RWS as an emotionally identifiable and sympathetic character. An audience of WPAs might well be inspired to emulate the example of RWS at SDSU by making “homes of their own” on campuses nationwide.
Having solved the mystery of RWS and English, I cannot help but feel disappointed that, despite the persuasive case made by Little and Rose, there is still some lingering acrimony on campus, even after more than twenty-five years. I can only hope that these negative feelings will continue to fade, as the departments ultimately share a similar vision: “Working, thinking, and writing together to build intellectual and ethical community” (27).
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Joe Harris RWS Journal 