- Greg O`Toole

Transcription

- Greg O`Toole

Rocky Mountain
Communication Review
Rocky Mountain
Communication Review
Volume 5: 2008
Articles
Politics & Pedagogy
Special Sections
3-16
17-31
32-42
43-56
58-64
65-69
70-74
75
76-80
“Hillary is my Friend”: MySpace and Political Fandom
Edward Erikson
Autoethnography as an Approach to Intercultural Training
Craig L. Engstrom
“May I Interest You in Today’s Special?”: A Pilot Study of Restaurant Servers’ Compliance-Gaining Strategies
Erin E. Kleman
“You’re Gonna Make It After All”: Changing cultural norms as described in the lyrics of sitcom theme songs, 1970-2001
Katherine A. Foss
Iraq in the Classroom? It’s Already Here
Jeremy G. Gordon
“How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria?”: Reflecting on My Experience as an International Teaching Assistant
Richie Hao
The Politics of Praxis
Juliane Mora
Electromania
Gregory O’Toole
Book Review: Queering Public Address: Sexualities in American Historical Discourse
Rosie Russo
The Rocky Mountain Communication Review (ISSN 1542-6394) is published yearly by
the Department of Communication at the University of Utah, 255 S. Central Campus
Drive, Salt Lake City, Utah 84112. Copyright © 2008. All rights reserved
Rocky Mountain Communication Review
Volume 5: 2008
Editor’s Note
In this issue of RMCR, we explore a variety of topics, mainly picking up political and mundane threads. That
is, this issue critically engages events and discourse from everyday life rather than extraordinary occurrences.
From Hillary Clinton’s MySpace page to sitcom theme songs, these scholars work to better understand how
communication functions in media, restaurants, and banal situations that comprise human experiences. This
issue also represents qualitative and interpretive approaches to studying communication, contributing to
theoretical conversations in rhetorical analysis and ethnography.
Edward Erikson studies the online personalities of political maven Hillary Clinton. In his analysis of
MySpace and Hillary Clinton’s website, Erikson finds that such turns in campaign strategy create what he
calls political fandom. Instead of simply voting for a candidate, users covet the candidate’s friendship and
the status that goes along with it.
Craig Enstrom’s autoethnographic essay suggests that elements of autoethnography—especially selfreflexivity—ought to be incorporated into training programs for overseas travelers like Peace Corps volunteers.
Engstrom shares two narratives that demonstrate the utility of autoethnographic writing to cope with challenging
cultural situations.
Another qualitative piece in the issue is Erin Kleman’s investigation into the compliance gaining strategies
employed by restaurant servers. Using interviewing and participant observation, Kleman identifies the different
strategies and contends that there is a discrepancy between the strategies recommended by managers and
those typically utilized by servers.
Television shows’ theme songs mirror the values of their time, according to Katherine Foss. She analyzed
theme songs from four decades to discover the dominant trends and how they corresponded to shifting cultural
values.
This Graduate Student Life is a forum about politics and pedagogy in this issue. The three articles that
we have illustrate the struggles that graduate students face when attempting to incorporate contemporary
events, political examples, and even individual identities into the classroom. Jeremy Gordon questions a
NCA discussion panel while he argues in favor of opening a space for students to converse about the wars
in Iraq and Afghanistan. Juliane Mora examines the personal ramifications of utilizing political examples in
the classroom and what happens when ideologies collide. Finally, Richie Hao explicates the difficulties that
arise in classrooms when identity politics come into play.
In our special section featuring alternative scholarship, Gregory O’Toole, a Denver-based poet and
photographer contributes a cerebral blog comprised of photographic and textual commentary on such diverse
issues as media, society, and pop culture. With a flair for the poetic, O’Toole crafts a new form of scholarly
commentary, one that is both entertaining and theoretically significant.
The issue closes with Rosie Russo’s review of Queering Public Address: Sexualities in American Historical
Discourse, edited by Charles E. Morris III. In addition to summarizing the main contributions of this text, Russo
critiques the discussions of pluralism and intersectionality, claiming that they do not adequately challenge and
further theory. Despite this drawback, she contends that the collection of essays is informative and timely.
This exciting issue would not have been possible if it were not for the diligence of our reviewers and
editorial staff. Their input and commitment to RMCR made this issue what it is.
As always, RMCR seeks essays, alternative scholarship, and reviews that are diverse and engaged in
contemporary trends.
Samantha Senda-Cook, Editor
August, 2008
2
“Hillary is my Friend”:
MySpace and Political Fandom
Volume 4:2, Summer, 2008
Pages 3-16
Edward Erikson
The 2008 presidential election has seen the proliferation of virtual campaigning using social networking sites like MySpace and Facebook and video sharing sites like YouTube. While candidates
sought out new media, they may not have considered how new media itself may be altering their
campaign messages or the perception of American politicians. I argue that the constituent parts
of Hillary Clinton’s MySpace page alters campaign messages as well as the interaction between
politicians and citizens, which highlights how political communication is changing in light of new
media.
Introduction
he 2008 presidential election has been
marked, in part, by the proliferation
of virtual campaigning through social
networking sites such as MySpace and Facebook
as well as video sharing sites such as YouTube.
While candidates sought out new media in an
attempt to build a grassroots Internet campaign
and capture a Howard Dean-like momentum
going into the primaries, signs suggest candidates
have not wholly considered how these forms
of new media may be altering their campaign
messages. Following Marshall McLuhan’s
argument that “the medium is the message”
(1994, 7), it is important to examine the medium
of social network sites themselves as well as
the metaphors implicit within the medium and
to ask: What are the meanings generated by
this medium? More specifically, what are the
candidates communicating? How does this
affect the way in which we think about and “do”
politics?
T
In order to examine these questions, I engage
in a semiotic analysis of Hillary Clinton’s
MySpace page. I break the page down into
its paradigmatic parts, including comments,
counters, links, videos, pictures, and blogs, in
order to explore the phenomenon of what I call
political fandom on social networking sites.
First, I examine the relationship between the
architecture of MySpace and the content that is
posted on the site in order to describe the ways
in which political fandom differs from traditional
political activities. Second, I look specifically
at the fan activities that take place on MySpace,
focusing on the act of collecting and the political
value of such fan activities for both the user and
the candidate. Third, I examine the ways in which
candidate-generated political communication
differs on social networking sites as compared
to traditional websites. The aim of this paper is
twofold: First, to describe the function, value, and
affect of political fandom; and second, to argue
Edward Erikson received his BA in Political Science from the University of Southern Maine and
is currently a second year Master’s candidate
in Communication, Culture, and Technology at
Georgetown University. His research interests
include American politics and social policy with
a specific focus on homelessness. His work has
appeared in gnovis, Words and Images, and The
Portland Press Herald. Edward works as the
Manager of Development for Community Family Life Services, a non-profit whose mission is
to help lift people out of poverty and move them
towards economic self-sufficiency. His aim is to
combine theory and practice, so that each informs
the other, in order to help improve the community
in which he lives.
3
Volume 5: 2008
that traditional models of political communication
are changing and that the Habermasian concept
of the public sphere requires further revision
to account for political behavior on social
networking sites.
networked space that allows for more participation
and more egalitarian communication.
The significance of the Internet in political
campaigns was first seen in the 2000 presidential
election, but not in the way that many scholars
predicted (Davis, Elin, and Reeher, 2002). The
Internet did not necessarily help to create a more
informed public; information on candidate web
pages was often a few days behind the news
cycle. Rather, it depicted a different phenomenon:
the creation of online political communities
(Davis, Elin, and Reeher, 2002). Richard Davis’s
research on political discussions in blogs, chat
rooms, and public email lists suggests that the
Internet has great potential to function as a
virtual public square (2005). Henry Jenkins and
David Thornburn write, “[n]etworked computing
operates according to principals fundamentally
different from those of broadcast media: access,
participation, reciprocity, and many-to-many
rather than one-to-many communication”
(2003, 2). Jenkins and Thornburn see the
medium of the Internet itself as democratic.
At an MIT conference on democracy and new
media in 1998, David Winston, the former chief
technology advisor to the Republican National
Committee, said, “Digital Technology gives us
a second chance to revive political conversation
in this country. . .” (2003, 135). While in theory,
the Internet bears a great deal of potential for
democracy, it is important to examine more
closely how this theory plays out in praxis.
MySpace and the Public Sphere
A series of virtual banners adorn Hillary
Clinton’s official MySpace page. Beneath each
banner is a pre-generated code that a user can
copy to place the banner on his or her personal
site, showing their support for Hillary.1 One
banner reads: “I am not only voting for Hillary,
she’s my friend!” Friendship is the organizing
metaphor on MySpace: Users “friend” each other
and can then post comments, pictures, and videos
on their friends’ profiles. Politics is not a location
of friendship; rather, it is a location of debate,
argument, representation, and legislation. While
friendship is traditionally a function of the private
sphere, politics are a function of the public sphere.
Jürgen Habermas writes, “The bourgeois public
sphere may be conceived above all as the sphere
of private people come together as a public. . . to
engage [public authorities] in a debate over the
general rules of governing relations. . .” (1991,
27). In the Habermasian sense of the term, the
public sphere is a location in which citizens
“mediate between society and the state by holding
the state accountable to society via publicity”
(Fraser 1999, 520). Nancy Fraser argues that the
public sphere is not, as Habermas describes, a
singular or unified entity. There exists not one
“public” but a multiplicity of publics. Fraser
writes, “participation is not simply a matter of
being able to state propositional contents that
are neutral with respect to form of expression.…
Participation means being able to speak in one’s
own voice…to construct and express one’s
cultural identity through idiom and style” (529).
Optimistic technocrats have envisioned the
Internet as a kind of virtual public sphere: a
Philip N. Howard argues that while digital
technology embodies some of the aspects
necessary to satisfy the public sphere, it ultimately
falls short. Howard writes “hypermedia campaigns
diminish the amount of shared text in the public
sphere” by “narrowcasting political content”
(183). He argues that the proliferation of options
that are made available on the web increases the
opportunities to micro-target constituents and
consequently decreases the potential for debate.
Luke Goode confronts this conflict between the
Internet and the public sphere. Goode argues that
1
The Clinton Campaign chose to brand Senator
Clinton as “Hillary.” Accordingly, I will refer to her as such
in this paper. I refer to everyone else by their last name.
4
“the Habermasian public sphere framework can
and must accommodate the realities of pervasive
mediation…” (90). The activities that take place
on social networking sites in the 2008 presidential
primaries, however, suggest that a Habermasian
theory of the public sphere does not accurately
describe all forms of political discourse that
takes place on the Internet. MySpace marks a
point where political discourse has begun to
seep out of “political communities” and into the
discourse of the social and popular culture. In
order to reconcile social networking sites and
the public sphere, Habermas’s theory requires
further revision or, as Goode argues, “critical
engagement” (90). Accordingly, I suggest that
social networking sites offer an alternative and
competing model of the public sphere: as Fraser
suggests, a location of “multiple publics.” I
argue that social networking sites open up a new
location and a new model in which to “do” politics
that comes from the discourse of popular culture
rather than that of politics.
fandom may not be original to social networking
sites, the proliferation of politics on these sites
suggests a new medium in which the cultural
relationship between constituents and politicians
is articulated.
Fandom and politics appear to be
incommensurate. Joli Jenson writes, “Fandom
is an aspect of how we make sense of the world,
in relation to mass media, and in relation to
our historical, social, cultural location” (27).
Grossberg writes, “Somehow, being a fan
entails a very different relationship to culture,
a relationship which seems only to exist in the
realm of pop culture” (50). For these writers,
politics is excluded from the discourse of fandom,
just as fandom is excluded from the discourse of
politics. This paper suggests, however, that they
come together in a new way within the medium
of social networking sites.
Henry Jenkins provides precedence for a more
complex approach to consider political fandom
than Postman’s analysis. Jenkins suggests that
fandom is a new way in which to engage people
in politics. He describes a series of examples
where corporations, church groups, and political
groups are taking cues from the discourse of
fandom in order to get people involved, whether
as consumers, participants, or voters. He writes
“entrenched institutions are taking their models
from grassroots fan communities, reinventing
themselves for an era of media convergence and
collective intelligence” (2006, 208). Following
Jenkins’s theory of new media and fandom, I
explore the ways in which political fandom may
be beneficial to democracy by increasing the
potential for participation as well as problematic
by distracting people from political issues.
Although, MySpace appears to be a virtual
manifestation of the Habermasian public sphere:
It is a location where people can gather together
and engage each other in dialogue and debate with
an increasing ease of access. When one examines
the text more closely, this description appears
to be wholly inaccurate. The architecture of
MySpace, the affect-infused pictures and profile
comments, and the information that the candidates
post more closely resemble artifacts of fandom
rather than political discourse. In Amusing
ourselves to Death, Neil Postman examines the
role of television and politics in the 1980s and
suggests that television has drastically changed
the way we think about and engage in politics.
He suggests that the metaphor for politics shifts
from a sporting event to that of show business;
he argues that there is no longer a standard of
excellence or fair competition in politics as
in sports. According to Postman, politics has
become a performance, an empty spectacle, rather
than a substantive action (1985). While political
Methodology
In order to address the problem of MySpace
and the public sphere, I examine Hillary Clinton’s
MySpace Page and website. I visited them both
daily between June 20, 2007 and July 1, 2007.
The material examples I use in this paper were
5
Volume 5: 2008
specifically taken from screen shots on June 29
and June 30, 2007. The analysis does not seek to
provide a comprehensive quantitative description
of information that appeared on MySpace during
this time; rather, it is a qualitative analysis of
selective material. When quoting “friends’”
comments, I try to take a selection of three or
four that appeared in chronological order to
demonstrate discursive trends. In other cases,
however, I select comments that are uniquely
different or interesting in order to highlight the
different and unexpected messages that are made
possible in this new medium. I attribute comments
to the friend’s screen name and quote the screen
name and comments verbatim including all the
grammatical and graphical idiosyncrasies.
between the parts that compose the text to the
whole (what is included, what is excluded)?
The Architecture of Fandom
“Let the conversation begin…”
Hillary Clinton January 22, 2007
At 11:17am on June 27 Bruno writes on
Hillary’s page, “we LOVE you Hillary!! You
have my vote You go girl!” At 11:52am
Rachel Gunn writes “THANKS FOR BEING
MY FRIEND! HAVE A GREAT WEEK!” At
12:05pm Angela writes, “thanks for the add.” At
12:16pm, | PAMELA | writes, “YOU GOT MY
VOTE, I CAN’T WAIT!!! YOU ARE SUCH A
LOVELY AND CARING LADY. THANK YOU
AND GOD BLESS YOU. PAM.” These are
comments on a political campaign; yet, they more
closely resemble the uncritical endorsement and
adoration one might find on celebrity MySpace
pages like those of Madonna or Paris Hilton.
While the discourse of politics in America is
traditionally rooted in the Enlightenment ideals
of reason and rationality, the comments on
MySpace, like in Postman’s critique of television,
shift the discourse from that of reason to affect.
In this way, the cultural practice taking place on
MySpace is not one belonging to the Habermasian
public sphere, but one that belongs to the realm
of political fandom.2
In analyzing the text, I use a series of
techniques adapted from the field of semiotics.
Semiotics has a traditional starting point in the
linguistic sign but it goes further, suggesting that
language is just one sign system among many: it
“comprises all forms of formation and exchange
of meaning on the basis of phenomena which have
been coded as signs” (Johansen and Larsen 2002,
3). The semiotic definition of a sign suggests
that one can read film, photographs, or even web
pages as a system of signs that communicate
meaning. I specifically examine the function of
intertextuality or what Julia Kristeva describes
as the relationship between “writing subject,
addressee and exterior texts” (Kristeva 1986,
36); the connotative and denotative meanings
generated within the text; the mode of address;
and finally, syntagmatic features such as the way
in which images and words are arrange on the
page. These semiotic techniques provide a unique
way to analyze the messages produced by both
the medium and the content. Taken together, these
concepts open up a series of questions that I use
as a general guide when analyzing campaign
materials. These questions include: Who is the
preferred reader/audience? What is the text’s
relationship to other texts? What are the inferred
or applied meanings? What is the relationship
In order to describe what I mean by political
fandom as model for doing politics, it is helpful
to juxtapose it to a more traditional theory of
how people do politics: rational choice theory.
Rational choice theory suggests that individuals
make political decisions, like who to vote for,
based on an a cost benefit anaylisis (Parsons,
2005). Parsons argues that voters are more likely
to make decisions based on their self-interest
2
I relegate affect to the discourse of fandom
following Lawrence Grossberg’s argument in his essay
“The Affective Sensibility of Fandom” in which he
explores the observation that “being a fan entails a
very different relationship to culture, a relationship
which seems only to exist in the realm of popular
culture”(1992, 50).
6
rather than any other factor. The notion of political
fandom, however, suggests an alternative way
in which people make political decisions: one
based on affect rather than reason. Lawrence
Grossberg describes the function of affect in fan
communities:
features; and third, I examine the role of hypertext
in producing meaning.
Friends’ comments
The shift in the conversation from classical
politics to political fandom is grounded, in part,
by the discourse and structure of MySpace itself.
To begin, the metaphor of friendship immediately
frames the discourse in a way that mediates all
conversations that take place. The text only
engages those who wish to befriend Hillary.
Thus, affect and friendship are prerequisites to
participating in the conversation. Exceptions
to this rule appear to be rare. The metaphor
of friendship encourages the homogeneity of
thought and discourages debate.
While critics generally recognize that
meanings, and even desires, are organized into
particular structures or maps, they tend to think
of mood as formless and disorganized. But affect
is organized; it operates within and, at the same
time, produces maps which direct our investments
in and into the world; these maps tell us where
and how we can become absorbed–not into the
self but into the world–as potential locations for
our self-identifications, and with what intensities
(1992, 57).
The structure of the comment section
itself places physical and conceptual limits on
the discourse. Comments are listed in reverse
chronological order with the most recent at the
top of the list. While the Internet creates the
opportunity for many-to-many communication,
the way in which the comment space is organized
on MySpace inhibits communication. The system
provides no space to comment on comments,
discouraging a threaded relationship between
the comments. As a result, the comments posted
on Hillary’s page are unidirectional rather than
dialogic. If users are interested in engaging
each other, they must do so in their own space.
Hillary’s page is not a public forum; it fails to
accommodate debate and dialogue and thus fails
to function as a medium for the public sphere.
The notion of political fandom suggests that
affective voters make political decisions based
on self-identification rather than self-interest. Again, this phenomenon is not original to social
networking sites like MySpace–affect and selfidentification have clearly influenced presidential
politics in the past 3–nevertheless, on social
networking sites like MySpace, political fandom
finds articulation not previously possible. The medium of MySpace facilitates affective
political alliances to a much greater extent than
previous forms of communication. It suggests
that the way in which we “do” politics is not based
on rational choice, but rather affective choice. In
addition, it provides a forum that allows users
to engage their fandom. While rational debate,
which is essential to the Habermasian public
sphere, appears to be absent, a new opportunity
for collaborative political production emerges. In
the following section, I examine the relationship
between the architecture of MySpace and the
content posted on MySpace pages. First, I
examine the function of the comments section;
second, I look at the function of “producerly”
The departure from the Habermasian public
sphere is further exemplified in the way in which
the content of the comments differs from that of
traditional political commentary. While many of
the comments on Hillary’s MySpace page endorse
democratic participation like the act of voting, the
gratuitous use of capital letters and exclamation
points are closer to screaming American Idol
fans than to political debate or commentary.
The language of American Idol lends itself to
politics here: The discourse changes from “vote
3
Take, for example, the 1960 election between
Richard M. Nixon and John F. Kennedy.
7
Volume 5: 2008
for the best candidate” to “vote for your favorite
idol.” The question then is: Does the language
of American Idol have a place in contemporary
politics?
MySpace has a “producerly” quality: Literal
gaps provide spaces within the text for usergenerated material. Although the architecture of
MySpace inhibits a dialogue between comments,
the pages are always a collaborative production.
While a profile may be initially constructed
by an individual, it is always the friends who
continue the construction by filling that space
with comments, pictures, videos, and links. In
doing so, users regularly alter the meanings
communicated on an individual’s or candidates’
MySpace page, for better or for worse.
While there are problems with approaching
politics affectively–namely, the coolest candidate
or the most likable candidate is not necessarily
the best candidate–it is incorrect to denigrate
affect as an inadequate approach to politics.
Policy wonks and politicos (the high culture
equivalent to fandom) can find innumerable
spaces on the Internet to communicate; what is
wrong with having a space for political fans as
well? Does political fandom degrade the quality
of democracy? Or could it potentially enhance it?
Is any participation better than no participation
at all?
MySpace grants significantly more control
to users in the textual production of political
candidates on “official” sites than was previously
possible. For example, on June 26, | LIL HITLER
IS MY WORLD| writes on Hillary’s page, “IM
SO VOTING FOR U!!” While the denotative
message conveyed in this comment is one, very
simply, of support, the juxtaposition between the
users screen name and the comment produces
a series of connotative messages that can send
shivers up your spine. The juxtaposition radically
alters the meaning of the statement in a way that
brings into association voting for Hillary and
the Third Reich. The relationship between user
names or pictures and comments often create
jarring images that are sometimes violent or
pornographic, contradictory, or foolish. Many of
the statements would never appear on Hillary’s
website, or be endorsed by Hillary herself, but
the nature of MySpace provides the opportunity
for these comments to appear.4 In a way, the
Producerly texts
MySpace expands the way in which
we do politics; it opens up a new space in
which to approach politics and thus engages
new participants. While certain features of
the medium appear to be antithetical to a
functioning democracy, other features may be
more democratic. Fans are not passive recipients
of texts as television viewers were often accused
of being in the past; rather, they are often active
participants in the construction of meaning. John
Fiske writes, “Fan texts have to be producerly
in that they have to be open, to contain gaps,
irresolutions, contradictions…” (1992, 42) Fans
take up these gaps and fill them with their own
texts. Take for example the numerous unofficial
Hillary fan sites on MySpace. Here, fans have
taken it upon themselves to design and operate
sites for Hillary. They post information about
the candidate, send and receive comments, etc.
In this way, MySpace acts as a location in which
fans can act out cultural fantasies. Fans take
instances or situations that may be inferred in the
“official” text and fill those gaps with their own
textual productions.
4
The privacy settings on MySpace grant users the
option to approve comments before they are posted on
their page or delete comments after they have been posted.
At the time when research was conducted for this paper
Hillary’s page did not require approval before comments
were posted. So, while staff has the potential to block
comments, they do not. Consequently, there are many
comments that are inappropriate, over sexualized, sexist,
and violent. Furthermore, these comments have not been
removed. On June 27, 2007 at 7:20am David posted “I
WANT TO FUCK U IN THE EYE SOCKET.” As of June
23, 2008, this comment still appears under Hillary’s picture
comments.
8
comments are democracy at work–the voter has
the ability to participate in an act that was once
highly guarded: the textual construction of a
political candidate.
well as between the text and “an anterior or
synchronic literary corpus” (Kristeva 1986, 37).
Hypertexts are uniquely intertextual in that they
literally link multiple texts together. They are
nonlinear and, unlike printed texts, suggest no
single dominate way in which to read them. As
a result, Hillary’s friends may have radically
different experiences visiting her MySpace page,
depending on when they view it and what links
they choose to follow. Some of the user-generated
links create logical relationships; for example,
THE POOR PEOPLE’S CAMPAIGN, Inc. links
to an advocacy group for low-income families
and individuals and Clinton4President2008 links
to a Hillary fan site. Other links lead to individual
pages that are relatively non-descript: adela is
a 55-year-old mother; Shawn is a 20-year-old
fireman, etc. Still other links lead to “modeling”
sites that are ostensibly soft-core pornography, like
RACHEL GUNN or Randy Rodman. Users make
all sorts of different assertions on their personal
pages that may or may not be commensurate with
Hillary’s positions; at the same time, hypertext
places these texts within the same discourse and
allows them to be read together.
Hypertexts
Hypertext marks a new way of reading, much
in the way that the advent of montage in film
made possible new ways of seeing. Bill Nichols
writes, “Montage rips things from their original
place in an assigned sequence and reassembles
them in everchanging combinations that make the
contemplation invited by a painting impossible”
(1988, 124). Montage allows us to see multiple
disparate scenes simultaneously, thus creating a
new and radically different understanding of the
present moment. The radical juxtapositions of
montage are a useful analogy to the associations
generated within hypertexts. Hypertext has the
ability to put into relationship a series of disparate
texts that then produce new and sometimes
challenging meanings. Unlike montage, however,
the relationships generated by hypertext depend
more on the reader and less on the author. In
montage, an author selects the images and the
order in which they appear. On a website, the
author picks the images and then the user picks
the order in which they appear. On MySpace, the
images and links are collaboratively produced
and the user picks the order. While on a website,
an author can generally control what links or
associations are possible within the immediate
discourse of their site, on MySpace authors secede
their control over potential meanings by allowing
user-generated information.
While users can alter the text in many
different and often radical ways, the candidate’s
platform does not change based on any statement,
comment, or alteration, even if it is well
thought out. The disconnection between the fan
production and the candidate has the potential to
backfire. MySpace and political fandom suggest
a new way of doing politics that was not possible
in old media such as the newspapers, television,
or even traditional candidate websites. At the
same time, unless candidates engage in this space
as more active participants, they run the risk of
alienating their fan base. The one thing that is
clear, however, is that social networking sites
have again changed the way in which we “do”
politics. The candidates that are able to adapt to
the changing mediascape will ultimately be best
equipped to win elections.
When one of Hillary’s friends posts a
comment on her page, that friend also produces
a link that connects to his or her own homepage.
Hillary’s friends are not only producing meaning
through their messages, but their sites themselves
become extensions of Hillary’s message. In
this way, MySpace is an intertexual space.
As Kristeva argues, meaning arises through a
dialogue between the reader and the writer as
9
Volume 5: 2008
Fan Activities and Value Added
The actions that take place within MySpace
differ drastically from traditional political action.
Fans express their identification with cultural
texts and celebrities through textual production,
which, as I described in the previous section, are
facilitated by the architecture of the space itself.
In addition, fans express identification through
specific activities, such as collecting. In fandom,
this act often takes the form of hyperconsumerism.
John Fiske writes that for fans, collecting “tends
to be inclusive rather than exclusive: the emphasis
is not so much upon acquiring a few good (and
thus expensive) objects as upon accumulating
as many as possible” (1992, 44). The following
section specifically examines the act of collecting
on MySpace and the value of said collection for
political fans as well as candidates. Furthermore,
I examine how the act of collecting differs from
traditional political activities.
collected. Junior Morales’s collection of friends,
however, does not precisely meet the description
that John Fiske provides for fandom. Rather than
being inclusive, Morales’s collection appears to
be exclusive–it is like a wine aficionado’s small
yet expensive collection of wine. On MySpace,
however, Junior Morales is not just a collector,
he is also the collected.
On June 29, 2007, the counter above Hillary’s
friend space on her MySpace page read, “Hillary
has 106665 friends.” The number is dark blue
and bold, highlighting the sheer quantity. Fiske
writes, “The distinctiveness lies in the extent
of the collection rather than the uniqueness or
authenticity as cultural objects” (1992, 44).
Thus the value of Hillary’s collection resides
in the number, not in the individual friends that
comprise the number. Hillary, however, is not
exactly a collector–she does not actively seek
out friends; rather she simply makes herself
available for friends to seek her. In doing so,
the fans enact the role of the devalued cultural
object, which is collected and then displayed as
a number. Ultimately, it is the fans’ action that
produces an image of Hillary as a collector, not
Hillary’s act of collecting. The pleasure within
this relationship, then, exists not in the act of
Hillary’s hyperconsumption, which Grossberg
describes as the moment when “the very activity
of consuming becomes more important, more
pleasurable, more active as the site of the cultural
relationship, than the object of consumption
itself” (Grossberg, 56); rather it is located in the
fan’s act of being hyperconsumed.
Hillary 2.0: Collector’s Edition
In the discourse of MySpace, friends are both
collectors and collected. Junior Morales, one of
Hillary’s many friends, is an exceptional example.
The text boxes on Junior Morales MySpace page
are brown and tan, matching the leather colored
Louis Vuitton print he has set as his background.
He has posted a slideshow with pictures of
himself, a video of a Calvin Klein commercial,
a Robin Thicke song, and various details about
his interests and his life. Despite having a highly
constructed and designed page, Junior Morales has
only 19 friends. Among the friends listed on his
page are familiar names: Mariah Carey, Madonna,
Timberland, Will Smith, Daddy Yankee, and of
course Hillary. At first glance, MySpace does not
appear to be conducive to the act of collecting,
the way that baseball cards, comic books, or
celebrity paraphernalia are; rather, on the surface,
MySpace appears as a place in which to network
and to communicate with friends. Upon closer
inspection, however, the friends on MySpace
are not really friends, but rather, digital objects
which are counted, displayed, and ultimately
The value for the collector
and of the collected
What is the pleasure in being hyperconsumed?
The act of consumption is rooted in desire.
Commodities produce desires that are then
ostensibly, if only temporarily, assuaged in the
act of consuming. As an object of desire, the
commodity has some control over the consumer
in that it has the temporary power to produce
10
affect. For the political fan, engaging the act
of consumption as a commodity rather than
a consumer becomes a means to subvert the
hierarchical relationship between the politician/
star and the constituent/fan; by enacting the role of
the devalued object, the fan becomes an object of
desire themselves. Thus, the normal relationship
in which the fan desires and the star is the object
of that desire is reversed. In traditional political
relationships, the individual is empowered as a
rational democratic subject, articulated in their
right to vote. In political fandom, the individual
is empowered as an object that produces desire.
for friends is equivalent to traditional political
activities, such as joining a political party or
volunteering for a campaign. While Putnam
argues social capital is essential for politics,
it has yet to be seen whether or not the (pop)
cultural capital produced in political fandom
increases political participation. It would be a
worthwhile project for future research to examine
whether or not there is a statistically significant
correlation between political fandom activity on
social networking sites and political and civic
engagement.
What does Hillary gain in extending her
political campaign into MySpace? Ideally, Hillary
might hope that her collection will produce both
social and economic capital; friends may volunteer
time or donate money to her campaign and they
will hopefully vote for her in the primaries. The
comments on Hillary’s page suggest that this is
most likely the case–it appears that at least half
of her friends’ comments affirm their support for
Hillary by promising her their votes. There is
another group of people among Hillary’s friends,
however, who are younger and will still not be
able to vote in the 2008 election. While their
support may not directly translate into a vote, they
add to the number of friends, which functions as
a gage of popularity. The discourse of fandom on
MySpace ties itself to the act of voting. There
is equivalence between being an object that is
collected and being a subject that votes. In the
discourse of political fandom, the two become
indistinguishable.
For Junior Morales, Hillary may well be more
than just a friend to add to his collection: She
can be seen as a symbol which may represent
his political beliefs in a single statement. Pierre
Bourdieu describes three forms of capital:
economic, cultural, and social. In these terms, the
act of collecting for people like Morales produces
a certain form of cultural capital. Hillary becomes
a brand image, just like the Louise Vuitton
background. Hillary is one signifier among a
collection, which taken as a whole, produce
Morales’s desired image.
The act of collecting in political fandom
and the act of building a network of contacts
in politics are, in some ways, analogous. The
difference, however, is that social networks build
social capital which has traditionally been granted
much more significance by political scientists
than cultural capital (particularly pop cultural
capital). Robert Putnam argues that the decline
in political participation and the rise of social
networking correlate in a statistically significant
way. In examining the decline of social groups in
the community like the Rotary Club or the Lions,
Putnam asks “Could new ‘virtual communities’
simply be replacing the old fashion physical
communities in which our parents lived?” (2001,
148). At the time Putnam was writing, not enough
research to reach a definitive conclusion existed. In my textual analysis of MySpace, however, I
found no sign that political activity on MySpace
While the interrelationship between Hillary
and her friends may produce real effects–it
can empower the fans, or produce votes for
Hillary–the relationship between Hillary and her
friends is ultimately a performance. Users are not
interacting with Hillary Clinton; rather they are
interacting with a virtualized Hillary avatar that
is monitored by campaign staff. In the act of play,
friends have made Hillary in their own image; in
a way, with her impressive collection of friends,
she, herself, appears as a fan. While at first this
11
Volume 5: 2008
seems to be a mark of success for MySpace
users who have helped to foster this image, the
underlining question remains: Is Hillary merely
playing to her constituents? Or has she lost control
of her image within this space?
guides him or her to identify as a supporter.
Furthermore, the big red donate button suggests
the best way to act as a supporter is to donate.
Moving to the left from the contribute button,
there is a list of “8 Things You Can Do,” which
includes a second red contribute button. In the
lower right corner before you scroll down there
is a video link to Hillary on the campaign trail, an
informational article about Hillary’s position on a
recent Supreme Court case, and then on the left,
the top of a list of “Upcoming Events.” The way
in which information is prioritized on the website
does not necessarily signal a departure from other
campaign material. For example, the banner at the
top of her website resembles a lawn sign. The
large picture resembles an image that one might
see on a brochure or a campaign poster. Thus,
the website is merely an interactive extension of
traditional campaign material.
Competing Messages: Candidate Web Sites
versus MySpace
Political fandom is not a feature of the Internet
in general; rather, it appears to be reserved
specifically for the discourse of MySpace and
social networking sites. In order to examine the
difference between the medium of MySpace and
that of candidate websites, I compare and contrast
Hillary’s MySpace page with her official website. While up to this point I have specifically focused
on user-generated information on Hillary’s
MySpace page, here I examine the information
that her campaign has added to her MySpace
page. I ask how it differs from the information
on Hillary’s official website.
Hillary’s MySpace page has blogs, videos, and
policy positions like her website; the syntagmatic
arrangement of material, however, suggests
that the priorities are very different. They are
as follows: 1) friendship, 2) endorsement, 3)
personal information, 4) policy positions. On
the top of Hillary’s MySpace, there is the same
“Hillary for President” banner as on her website.
In the upper right hand corner is Hillary’s
profile picture, below her picture is a table with
contact information with functions such as add
to friends or message. The user immediately
encounters Hillary in the same position that he
or she encounters their “friends.” The medium of
MySpace shifts the discourse from public sphere
to that of the private sphere or at the very least
blurs the boundary. Here, traditional political
discourse gives way to that of political fandom.
Moving to the left is a thumbnail collection of
videos and a list of the most recent blog postings,
most of which are endorsements. On the lower
right there are a series of banners and links to
show your support, and on the lower left is a
short bio. When you compare the information
posted on both sites, and the way in which the
On the surface, the information on Hillary’s
MySpace page resembles her website, but the
two are in fact quite different. On June 30, 2007,
the syntagmatic arrangement of information
on her official website suggests that Hillary’s
objectives were visually prioritized as follows:
1) contributions, 2) support, 3) campaigning,
and 4) policy positions. At the top of the page
there is a “Hillary for President” banner and
a horizontal list of navigational tabs. On the
upper right corner there is a quarter page picture
of Hillary speaking in the round with a crowd of
supporters behind her and a large red contribute
button. While hypertexts make possible new
forms of reading, people still read English top
down, from left to right (Outing and Ruel, 2008).
Users are more likely to perceive information on
the upper left hand side of the page first, thus it
is naturally prioritized over the information on
the left hand side. The image of Hillary speaking
in the round draws the user into the image. It
situates the user in a position where they can
identify as part of the crowd and consequently
12
information is prioritized, it becomes clear that
Hillary’s objectives on MySpace are different
from those of her website. While these differences
are understandable considering the website and
MySpace are really two different mediums within
the Internet, it is a worthwhile activity to consider
how the candidate’s message might change in the
medium of MySpace.
titled “Hillary’s Interests” appears that is original
to MySpace. Here, friends can relish in all of
those quintessential details such as “Favorite
food to cook,” “Worst habit,” or “Pets at home.”
Most interesting, however, is her favorite reality
T.V. program: American Idol. In one sense, this
section is a clear attempt to reach out to younger
people and demonstrate to them that she is just
a regular person. At the same time, however, it
is impossible to ignore the fact that when she
evokes American Idol, she is borrowing from the
discourse of the star system and pop culture in
which fan communities are much more common.
Furthermore, in evoking American Idol and
framing her page within the discourse of fandom,
she depoliticizes the act of voting. Political
fandom shifts the act from a duty of citizenship to
a duty of friendship. Again, this marks a location
where one is encouraged to make a decision based
on affect rather than reason.
In Hillary’s profile picture on MySpace she
is looking off to the right, her chin resting on
her closed hand, her mouth agape, smiling. She
looks as if she we’re engaged in a conversation,
as if, just at moment she was about to speak. This
image of Hillary, however, is deceptive; Hillary’s
page speaks to us, but it does not engage us in a
political conversation. Rather, the information
that Hillary has contributed to her page is closer
to the comments that her users post than to the
information on her website. For example, one of
Hillary’s blogs is a video titled “Harvard Students
Talk about Hillary.” The video begins with a
montage of the quad at Harvard: students playing
wiffle ball, walking through campus, walking
to class. Next, there is an intertitle that reads
“What Do Harvard Students Think of Hillary?”
The video then cuts to a series of testimonials, for
example, Kelly and Alex say, “we’re freshman at
Harvard and we LOVE Hillary!” James says “I
like Hillary, I think she’s cool.” After a few more
comments, the video cuts to another montage of
students at a rally for Hillary, and then ends when
a longer testimonial which maintains the same
uncritical endorsement that is present throughout
the text. Thus the information that Hillary has
posted on MySpace does not signify an attempt to
begin a political conversation; rather, it appears to
be an attempt to cultivate a fan community.
As one scrolls down Hillary’s MySpace page,
the next item that one encounters is Hillary’s
friend space. While Hillary does not necessarily
censor her “friends’” comments, she does control
her friend space. Of Hillary’s top fifteen friends
displayed on her profile all but one is a Hillary
Clinton fan site, and all but one is a picture of
Hillary or a reference to Hillary. This is another
space that has the potential to function as an
innovative way to communicate Hillary’s beliefs
or participate in a political conversation via
hyperlinks–she could use this space to display
organizations that she supports or causes in which
she believes. Instead, this space becomes an
intensely narcissistic celebration of herself–her
top friends are not simply Hillary supporters,
they are Hillary herself! The majority of links
lead to unofficial MySpace pages, which are
maintained by her fans. In doing so, Hillary not
only encourages the multiple fan sites that are
Hillary’s MySpace page focuses more on
her personal life rather than her political career.
As a user scrolls down her MySpace page there
is a short bio titled “Hillary’s Story”; while the
language sounds colloquial, it happens to be the
same language that Hillary uses on her website.
If you go down a little further, however, a section
13
Volume 5: 2008
produced in her name, but also transforms her own
site into a fan site–a celebration of herself.5
rather, it is a way in which people engage in
politics based on self-identification and affective
alliances. At first glance, political fandom
appears to be an unintended consequence of
candidates seeking out new media such as
social networking sites. The task of escaping
the discourse of fandom seems to be impossible
given the structural elements of MySpace that
make it so hospitable for fandom. Taking a closer
look, however, it appears that politicians such as
Hillary Clinton have not accidentally fallen into
the discourse; rather, they actively produce it
through the information they place on their sites
as well as the way in which they encourage their
friends’ activities. Thus, as Jenkins suggests,
politicians look to the discourse of fandom as a
means to mobilize voters and engage the citizenry.
While it is clear that social networking sites have
drastically changed the ways politicians campaign
and accordingly, the way in which many
people approach politics, an important question
remains for future consideration: How might
these tools translate from political campaigns to
governance?
Below Hillary’s interests and slightly below
Hillary’s friend space, is one last section, “Hillary
on the Issues.” The syntagmatic placement of
this section is not without significance. Much
like a newspaper article pushed back to page
14, Hillary’s position on the issues is clearly
her lowest priority. Unlike Hillary’s Story or
Hillary’s Interests, no actual information about
her stances on the issues appears here; instead, the
page just provides links to take visitors back to her
website. Hillary has structured her MySpace in a
way that intentionally appeals to affect rather than
reason. The site is set up so that when you reach
the issues, it is as if Hillary were standing there,
saying, “Okay, you want to talk about politics,
that’s fine, let me just take you out of this space
and bring you to a more appropriate forum.”
Thus, even though the two sites are connected
via links and language, they ultimately appear to
be parts of two distinctly separate discourses that
belong to two separate public spheres.
Conclusion
Social networking sites such as MySpace
provide a space in which citizens can articulate
an alternative relationship to politics that marks
a break from the Habermasian public sphere. In
this way, my findings confirm Nancy Fraser’s
critique of Habermas–that there is not one single
public sphere, but rather, multiple and competing
public spheres (Fraser 1999). Political fandom
does not mark the end of the public sphere, but
rather suggests an alternative public sphere
in which people engage in politics through
“affective sensibility.”
Fandom has one clear advantage for
candidates over traditional politics in so much
as it discourages dissent and encourages affective
allegiances; it is easier to maintain support if your
supporters like you. While this may be one reason
why politicians evoke the discourse of fandom,
there are a series of unintended consequences
that politicians may not have considered. While
political fandom is rendered visible in MySpace, it
is not necessarily a product of MySpace. Rather,
political fandom seems to be closely tied to the
politics spectacle. Guy Debord, writes, “The
spectacle is not a collection of images; rather,
it is a social relationship mediated by images”
(1994,12). In a “society of the spectacle,” the
way in which these images are constructed and
circulated becomes the most important function of
politics. Thus, while fandom enters the discourse
of politics as a distraction, perhaps it also offers
a new site of resistance.
Fandom is not simply an intense adoration for
the candidate or a passive form of spectatorship;
5
At the time when research was conducted for
this paper, this phenomenon was unique to Clinton. Other
presidential contenders such as Edwards, Obama, Romney,
McCain, and Richardson, had regular people (most likely
friends and staffers) in their top friends.
14
In June 2007, Hillary hosted a contest on
her website for users to choose a campaign
song. She mobilized her network on MySpace,
posting a blog about the contest and sending
out bulletins with a link to all of her friends. In
round one of the contest, Hillary listed about ten
songs to choose from and gave the option for
contestants to write in their own selections. In
round two, she narrowed the selection down to
the top-five Hillary picks and the top five writeins. The winner, a song titled “You and I” by
Celine Dion, was announced on June 20, 2007.
It was not one of the original selections that
Hillary’s campaign offered as a suggestion; it
was a write-in suggestion. Perhaps the intentions
of the participants voting for the song were
sincere; perhaps they thought this would be the
best song to represent Hillary’s campaign. Or
maybe they did not. While a campaign song is
not the most essential element to a campaign,
it marks a shift; candidates are providing fans
with more and more power over the production
of the candidate’s image. In a world where “all
relations are mediated by images,” the ability to
control, alter, or influence a politician’s image
marks a new way of doing politics, that may be
more influential than engaging public authorities
“in a debate over the general rules of governing
relations” (Habermas 1991, 27), a way of doing
politics that may in fact be more democratic.
Sphere. Ed. Craig Calhoun. Cambridge: MIT
Press, 1992.
Davis, Richard. Politics Online: Blogs, Chatrooms,
and Discussion Groups in American Democracy.
New York: Routledge, 2005.
Davis, Steve, Larry Elin, and Grant Reeher. Click
on Democracy: The Internet’s Power to Change
Political Apathy into Civic Action. Cambridge:
Westview Press, 2002.
Debord, Guy. Society of the Spectacle. New York:
Zone Books, 1995.
Fiske, John. “The Cultural Economy of Fandom.”
The Adoring Audience: Fan Culture and Popular
Media. Ed. Lisa Lewis. London: Routledge,
1992.
Foot, Kirsten A., Steven M. Schneider. Web
Campaigning. Cambridge: The MIT Press,
2006.
Fraser, Nancy. “Rethinking the Public Sphere: A
Contribution to the Critique of Acually Exisiting
Democracy.” The Cultural Studies Reader. Ed.
Simon During. 2nd ed. London: Routledge,
1999.
Goode, Luke. Jürgen Habermas: Democracy and
the Public Sphere. London: Pluto Press, 2005.
Grossberg, Lawrence. “Is There a Fan in the
House?: The Affective Sensibility of Fandom.”
The Adoring Audience: Fan Culture and Popular
Media. Ed. Lisa Lewis. London: Routledge,
1992.
Bibliography
Ang, Ien. “Dallas and the Ideology of Mass
Culture.” Cultural Studies Reader. Ed. Simon
During. London: Routledge, 1993.
Habermas, Jurgen. The Structural Transformation
of the Public Sphere: An Inquiry into a Category
of Bourgeois Society. Cambridge: The MIT Press,
1991.
Bourdieu, Pierre. “The Forms of Capital.”
Handbook of Theory and Research for the
Sociology of Education. Ed. John Richardson.
New York: Greenwood Press, 1986. 241-58.
Howard, Philip N. New Media Campaigns and
the Managed Citizen. Cambridge: Cambridge
University Press, 2006.
Chandler, Danial. Semiotics for Beginners. New
York: Routedge, 2002.
Calhoun, Craig. “Introduction: Habermas and
the Public Sphere.” Habermas and the Public
Jenkins, Henry. Convergence Culture: Where Old
and New Media Collide. New York: New York
15
Volume 5: 2008
University Press, 2006.
Postman, Neil. Amusing Ourselves to Death:
Public Discourse in the Age of Show Business.
New York: Penguin Books, 1985.
Jenson, Joli. “Fandom as Pathology: The
Consequences of Characterization.” The Adoring
Audience: Fan Culture and Popular Media. Ed.
Lisa Lewis. London: Routledge, 1992.
Putnam, Robert. Bowling Alone: The Collapse
and Revival of American Community. New York:
Simon & Schuster, 2001.
Johansen, Jorgen Dines, and Svend Erik Larsen.
Signs in Use: An Introduction to Semiotics. New
york: Routledge, 2002.
Thorburn, David and Henry Jenkins. “Introduction:
The Digital Revolution, the Informed Citizen, and
the Culture of Democracy.” Democracy and New
Media. Ed. Henry Jenkins and David Thornburn.
Cambridge: The MIT Press, 2003.
Kristeva, Julia. The Kristeva Reader. Edited
by Toril Moi. New York: Columbia University
Press, 1986.
Warnick, Barbara. Rhetoric Online: Persuasion
and Politics on the World Wide Web. New York:
Peter Lang Publishing, 2007.
McLuhan, Marshall. Understanding Media: The
Extension of Man Cambridge: The MIT Press,
1994.
Winston, David. “Digital Democracy and the
New Age of Reason.” Democracy and New
Media. Ed. Henry Jenkins and David Thorburn.
Cambridge: The MIT Press, 2003.
Nichols, Bill. “The Work of Culture in the Age of
Cybernetic Systems.” Screen.29 (1988): 22-46.
Outing, Steve and Laura Ruel. Eye Tracker
III: Online News Consumer Behavior in the
Age of Multimedia. http://www.poynterextra.
org/eyetrack2004/main.htm (accessed June 28,
2008).
Vargas, Jose Antonio. “Campaign.USA: With the
Internet Comes a New Political ‘Clickocracy’.”
The Washington Post, April 1, 2008.
Wolf, Gary. “How the Internet Invented Howard
Dean.” Wired January 2004
Parsons, S. Rational Choice and Politics. New
York: Continuum, 2005
16
Autoethnography as an Approach
to Intercultural Training
Pages 17-31
Craig L. Engstrom
Most intercultural training programs are based on theories of cultural variability. This autoethnography questions the pre- and post-service training of the United States Peace Corps by highlighting contexts in which the training failed to be helpful for one of its volunteers. Through two indepth personal narratives, the author highlights the need for self-reflexivity exercises in training
seminars. Autoethnography, as both a method of research and training, provides individuals with a
language to help make sense of fragmented cultural experiences, especially experiences brought on
by momentous “cultural ruptures” following both mundane interaction and catastrophic events.
We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
~ T. S. Elliott (1943)
critique. My narratives serve as an example
of how autoethnography can assist someone
trying to make sense of tumultuous livedexperiences that can lead to depression and
other psycho-physiological pain. Techniques of
autoethnography may be used as a way to help
global travelers and workers understand who they
are in relation to the people and cultures they
encounter, and to assist those who might need a
tool for re-orientating themselves to their home
cultures upon return.
M
uch like land in geography,
human bodies are marked by the
transformations that take place
when boundaries converge. In geology, the
coming together of these boundaries shakes
the earth. When it comes to personal lived
experiences, such boundary-crossings shake the
soul; or, at least, they shook mine.
After providing the backdrop for this essay,
which includes a literature review and critique
of cultural variability models in intercultural
communication research, I highlight what
autoethnography is, as both a scholarly and
lay method. I then provide two scenarios that
demonstrate the potential effectiveness of
autoethnography as a way to make sense out
of troubling experiences. The first deals with
how my use of self-reflexivity (although I was
unaware of it at the time) opened up a space
for genuine cultural exchange. The second
experience demonstrates how not knowing how
to use self-reflexivity thrust me into a self-identity
crisis upon returning to the United States. I only
found myself and better understood what I was
going through while learning autoethnographic
and communication theory in the academy—a
So that boundary-shaking experiences can
turn into possibilities rather than despair, I suggest
in this essay that elements of autoethnography
and self-reflexivity training must be incorporated
into intercultural training seminars and books
and used by travelers as a method of selfCraig Engstrom is currently a doctoral student
in the Department of Speech Communication
at Southern Illinois University Carbondale. His
research interests include critical pedagogy, organizational and entrepreneurial communication,
(auto)ethnography, and ethnomethodology. Craig
thanks the two Peace Corps volunteers who wish
to remain anonymous and the RMCR team for
their helpful insights and feedback.
17
Volume 5: 2008
set of theories and ways of knowing and being
that I wish I had been exposed to much earlier
in my life. In the concluding pages I offer some
tentative strategies for conducting intercultural
communication training.
theories suffer from the modernist project in that
they treat culture and communication as static and
fixed objects, use dichotomies and binaries to test
cultural differences (e.g. collectivist-individualist;
monochronic-polychronic), and desire universal,
id est decontextualized, applications of theory.
Often these theories translate into a “do this”
or “don’t do that” approach to training, which
might make surface interactions possible, but
not facilitate the co-construction of meaningful
intercultural relations in situated contexts.
Intercultural Training via Variability
Models: The Peace Corps Backdrop
I spent two years in the Peace Corps teaching
at a lyceum in Leninogorsk, Kazakhstan. About
two weeks before I left Kazakhstan, I was
lounging in the Peace Corps Volunteer office
and, in jest, decided to (re)create a Peace Corps
advertisement. I “x-ed” out on a poster the Peace
Corps’s catch phrase, “Life is calling. How far
will you go?” I added in black permanent marker:
“Peace Corps, It Will Not Only Change You— It
Will F--- You Up For Life!” While I got several
laughs from my companions and colleagues, at
that time I didn’t grasp the truth in that statement.
In retrospect, I realize that neither does Peace
Corps personnel. I believe that Peace Corps
trainers do not see the impact of Peace Corps
volunteers’ identities being drastically de-centered
because The Silent Language (1959) of Edward T.
Hall still loudly informs how they write manuals
and educate their volunteers about intercultural
communication. Peace Corps trainers seem to
believe that volunteers are culturally competent
if they learn to act and behave in generalized
ways. Trainers never addressed how trainees
should cope with changes to their sense of self
(see Starr, 1994).
During the trainings, the “touchy-feely” talk
about Kazakhstan being a collectivist culture and
the US-American culture being individualistic
made me feel secure that I would not be alone
whenever I would make a faux pas. However,
I, like most volunteers, was doubtful that these
sessions would prove to be helpful in dealing
with larger issues, such as what Peace Corps
volunteers’ work represents in the larger context
of US imperialism. Nevertheless, this training
seemed valuable to me at the time, if only because
it made the process of acculturation feel simple.
The tips the trainers (who were Kazakhstani1)
offered did not take context into consideration and
failed to explain how I should understand myself
in relation to cultural differences. For example, I
was informed that the important things that make
“culture” are scraps of generalized information
about the cultural Other (e.g., Kazakhs eat most
of their food with their hands, US-Americans
tend to eat with forks). This information was, of
course, useless to me whenever I was confronted
with the need to reflect on my own positionality
within the larger context of globalization during
culturally momentous ruptures like 9.11 and the
US-led invasions of Afghanistan and Iraq.
In the past, Peace Corps used to conduct their
training in the United States. Today, Peace Corps
appropriately uses cultural immersion techniques.
This means that the usually 10-week-long training
programs take place in the host country. As part
of in-country training, the Peace Corps provides
several hours of dedicated cultural awareness
courses. These sessions follow cultural awareness
training developed from theories of cultural
variability (e.g., Burgoon, 1992; 1995; Gudykunst,
1988; 1995; Ting-Toomey & Chung, 1996). Such
It would have been more useful for volunteers
to have been taught a set of practices that we could
have used to understand ourselves in relation
to Kazakhstani peoples and global and local
political events. Peace Corps trainers could have
accomplished this by explicating how to be selfreflexive.2 Instead, the trainers said things to us
18
Autoethnography as Training Method
like, “Don’t be too hurried to arrive somewhere
on time”; or “Don’t be frustrated if you invite
someone over for dinner and they arrive at nine
at night and stay until two or three in the morning
because Kazakhs are polychronic and Americans
are monochronic” (for a discussion on time as
cultural variable see Hall, 1983).
in order to interrogate my desire to fit in with a
“nationally” understood collective experience
that was made possible through the mediated
September 11, 2001 experience. For the most
part, I did not experience 9.11 at all, or at least
not within a US-American frame of reference.
While various cultures within the United States
might have socially interacted with each other
in different ways around the media coverage,
I postulate that they still were experiencing the
mediated events within the borders of the United
States. I did not see most of these images, and
usually the ones I did see were delayed. This
immediately positioned me as an outsider.
During close-of-service training, the trainers
served more of these overly general tips. For
example, “Just like you’ve experienced difficult
adjustments here, be ready to manage your
feelings of anxiety and uncertainty when you
return home” (for a discussion of uncertainty see
Gudykunst, 1988; 1995). “Expect that you will
violate some norms and that you will feel like an
outsider in your own culture. At least this is what
intercultural communication scholarship tells
us you will most likely expect” (see Burgoon,
1992; 1995; Ting-Toomey & Chung, 1996).
I distinctly recall the trainers drawing during
both pre- and end-of-service training a “U” and
a “W” shape on a blackboard (see Gullahorn &
Gullahorn, 1963; Lysgaard, 1955; Ward, Okura,
Kennedy, & Kojima, 1998). The Peace Corps
trainers suggested that we would experience
“honeymoon” feelings when we first arrived in
Kazakhstan, then a downward slope of frustration
as we came to see ourselves as outsiders, then an
upward phase of integration (i.e., a U-curve). It
was true, I had ups and downs, but it was messier
and much less predictable. They also stated
that we should also experience an emotional
rollercoaster of reintegration and re-assimilation
in the United States, completing another U-curve
of feelings (i.e., a complete W from beginning to
end; see Smith, 1998).
Despite a lack of scholarship surrounding
this topic, it is important to theorize how to
train individuals to cope with re-assimilation
following a “cultural rupture”—an event that is
so disruptive that it renders the current discourse
(i.e., talk and action) inadequate, requiring new
discourses to pull the national culture together
(Kakutani, 2001; Sifton, 2001)—because
people, like Peace Corps volunteers, have been
and will be in similar isolated living situations
during catastrophic cultural events. The aim of
my discussion, therefore, is to draw attention to
authoethnographic processes and self-reflexivity
as a means for coping with cultural ruptures, and
to challenge global travelers to think about their
positionality as social agents in the context of
globalization, even within mundane, everyday
situations. This discussion also highlights the
usefulness of autoethnography as a meaningful
modus operandi beyond the academy.
I wish that autoethnographic sensibilities,
especially self-reflexivity, had been encouraged
in the various pedagogical and training settings I
have encountered during my life, including public
schooling, Peace Corps training, and corporate
jobs. In other words, autoethnography is not only
a method(ology), it is a particular way of being,
a pathway toward an “ethics of self care,” which
as Foucault (1984/2003) notes, exposes power
and allows genuine interaction,
If the Peace Corps had not limited
their discussion to these simplified ways of
understanding culture, perhaps I would have been
more prepared for returning to the nationally
defined US-American culture, post 9.11. While
I acknowledge that lumping everybody under
a national identity is perhaps problematic (see
Anderson, 1991), I find it necessary to do so
19
Volume 5: 2008
…[I]f you take care of yourself, that is, if
you know ontologically what you are, if
you know what you are capable of, if you
know what it means for you to be a citizen
of a city, to be the master of a household
in an oikos, if you know what things you
should and should not fear, if you know
what you can reasonably hope for and,
on the other hand, what things should not
matter to you, …you cannot abuse your
power over others. (p. 31)
culture by one or more of its members” (Buzard,
2003, p. 61), using autobiographical-like methods
(Ellis, 2004). Autoethnography also, as Norman
K. Denzin (1997) notes, tries to breathe life
into descriptions and feelings in the telling of
everyday experiences in such a way that it does
not allow one to take a position of being the
authority in representing others: It “bypass[es]
the representational problem by invoking an
epistemology of emotion, moving the reader
to feel the feelings of the other” (p. 228). In
summary, it is a procedure of getting others to
feel rather than simply think about experiences
and phenomena.
To understand oneself in such a way, one
needs a method. That method ought to be
autoethnographic.
Autoethnography as Research
and Personal Method
Authoethnography is no doubt a controversial
and contested method (see Anderson, 2006 vs.
Denzin, 2006). Nevertheless, Edward T. Halllike training is going to continue regardless of
current criticisms; globalization and capitalism
will continue to change the global terrain;
and new technologies and heightened global
travel will continue to increase intercultural
interactions. Therefore, it is vital that we find
ways to challenge people’s presuppositions about
cultural Others and teach ourselves (as trainers
and communication scholars) and our trainees
(or students) how to interrogate our/their ways
of being. Autoethnography, despite its contested
nature, offers a means to do so.
Autoethnography, as a process or orientation,
encourages authors—both of oral and written
texts—to write/speak reflexive narratives, always
taking into account issues of power as they expose
their bodies and others’ bodies in and through
their storytelling. According to Spry (2001), “an
autoethnographer resists Grand Theorizing and the
façade of objective research that decontextualizes
subjects and searches for singular truth” (p. 710).
While we try to understand a culturally-situated
phenomena, “our primary procedures are those we
use to build and sustain friendship: conversation,
everyday involvement, compassion, giving, and
vulnerability” (Tillmann-Healy, 2003, p. 734).
An autoethnographer does not simply take from
a culture; she or he also recognizes that they
must give something back, namely, openness to
rejection.
As scholarly method, autoethnography is
defined and used in a variety of ways. Because
“the term ‘autoethnography’ designates a wide
array of textual practice, leaving many to suggest
the undesirability, let alone the impossibility,
of arriving at a single definition” (GingrichPhilbrook, 2005, p. 298), I do not seek to define
it; rather, I provide a sense of how others find
it useful. Autoethnography seeks to recover
aestheticism and emotion through evocative
analysis, evocative writing, and evocative politics.
It is “the study, representation, or knowledge of a
Autoethnography, as a training method, uses
and teaches an amalgam of the ideas above. As
trainers we try to expose “trainees,” in as little
time as we might have in a training session,
to the autoethnographic process, particularly
self-reflexivity. Thus, while many individuals
will not use autoethnography as a method of
scholarship, they certainly can think about the
ways in which they, as human agents of their own
cultures, are historically-situated beings. This
is the essence of self-reflexivity—being hyperaware of how one communicates and hyper-aware
20
of communicative effects. Autoethnography
encourages individuals to constantly scrutinize
their behavior in immediate contexts whenever
engaged with others, especially with people
who are not members of their dominant cultural
group(s) and they remain open to rejection.
Additionally, autoethnography encourages
individuals to think about the way they narrate
stories about others so that they interrogate
oppressive ideologies. This type of training
encourages, at the very least, individuals to
think about their actions and emotions in selfconscious and introspective ways (as Ellis (2004)
encourages us to do) while working or traveling
in other cultural contexts.
actions in reflexive ways, and they illustrate how
autoethnography provides a lens for seeing and
thinking about the cultural world reflexively. They will demonstrate that autoethnography
provides a much needed life vest for volunteers
(and, arguably, all expatriates and travelers)
who need a more thoughtful way of engaging
with people while abroad, and it provides a
way of making sense of the fragmentation and
depression that can result from extended stays
abroad (Jansson, 1975).
Narrative 1: The Power of Self-Reflexivity
During Seemingly Insignificant Moments
If I had not logged the date into my daily
journal, I would not remember what I was doing
on July 20, 2001. Although the date is irrelevant,
the events that day required introspection and
helped me understand my relationships with other
Peace Corps volunteers as well as local peoples.
It was a hot, dusty and tiring day for me on the
southern tip of Kazakhstan. It was the seventh
week of Peace Corps volunteer training in the
village of Talgar. The only things keeping me
from quitting the Peace Corps were the beautiful
view that I had of the 16,000-foot peaks of the
Tian Shan Mountains and my loving host family
that took care of me.
As far as the autoethnographic narratives in
this analysis are concerned, I use autoethnography
as a scholarly method to situate myself (as
“researcher”) as a competent member of the
social groups under study (Denzin, 1997)—in
this case US-American and Kazakhstan cultures.
I also draw heavily on my personal experiences
within these cultures (see, for example, Lockford,
2004; Pelias, 2000). Autoethnography allows
individuals to excavate personal experiences and
narratives (Krizek, 2003) by exploring their bodies
and memories as sites of research as located in
historic-temporal spaces (e.g., Crawford, 1996).
In other words, autoethnography does not require
that a person be “doing” research in the moment
of the experience; rather it invites them to reflect
back on their personal experiences as noted in
journals and/or memories. This is distinct from
“traditional” ethnography, which requires that
one “go to the field” already aware of their
research endeavor. Autoethnography, as research
method, legitimates a researcher using their past
“culturally-situated” experiences as research;
memories become possible sites of research.
I, along with 43 other volunteers, had sat
through another grueling six hours of training in
a poorly ventilated school. We had received our
second series of vaccinations for rabies, which
gave most of us flu-like symptoms. We had also
received our standard, once-a-week, two-hour
training session dedicated to teaching us how to
respect Kazakh culture. Following such days,
particularly on Fridays, it was customary for all of
us to gather at a local café to drink beer, cognac,
and/or vodka. As non-drinkers, I and a few other
volunteers often opted to drink tea, Coca-Cola,
Orange Fanta, or juice, and we took care of those
who did drink. After hanging out at the café until
it was dark, we’d usually retire by going to a local
makeshift discothèque. That night, however, I
I now turn to narrating two events located
in and through my Peace Corps experience. In
part, these narratives expose the inadequacy of
current Peace Corps training methods to provide
volunteers with ways of thinking about their
21
Volume 5: 2008
didn’t go to the discothèque. My decision was
the result of the unsettling disrespect of Kazakhs
demonstrated by a few of the “culturally trained”
and “culturally sensitive” volunteers.
The café manager had asked us to leave several
times, and a group of older Kazakh men had
threatened to remove us by force. This only caused
more tension as one of the volunteers mocked and
used his quickly acquired Russian slang to say
disrespectful things to these men. PCV-1,3 another
male volunteer, and I were encouraging other
volunteers to go somewhere else. But we were
mainly ignored by the intoxicated volunteers, who
were, for all intents and purposes, also just trying
to have a good time. One volunteer in particular,
PCV-2, told me to “f-off” and only moments
later, the plastic chair he and another volunteer
were standing on gave out. The leg snapped and
the two volunteers tumbled to the ground. They
laughed and then hid the broken furniture in a dark
corner. I was shaking from the attention we were
drawing. I apologized to the group of Kazakh
teens who were nearby and continued to urge,
along with a growing chorus of both intoxicated
and sober volunteers, that the rowdiest among us
to go elsewhere. In the end, the group left earlier
than usual, so it seems that respect prevailed. For
the most part, even those of us who were at times
“obnoxious and loud” (or at least drunk) cared
about the impressions we would leave.
Earlier in the day, ironically, during the
cultural segment of our training, the Peace Corps’
cultural trainer told us that we should be aware
that US-Americans are considered by several
cultures, including those in Kazakhstan, to be
“loud and obnoxious.” This, of course, is a very
typical form of behavior-oriented intercultural
training developed in the US, and obviously
reproduced by Kazakh citizens for Peace
Corps volunteers. I now understand, because
of my academic interests, that such a statement
follows the traditional cultural variability models
developed through early research in intercultural
and cross-cultural communication. At the time,
however, such ideas sounded good to me. They
are, indeed, informative models and not without
value. (As a guide they can be helpful; as the only
form of training, they are limiting.) My argument
is not to displace them; rather it is to add to them
by incorporating self-reflexivity training, as
borrowed from autoethnography.
At about 10 p.m., just as the sun was setting,
many of the volunteers were drunk. I realized
that their behavior was becoming “loud and
obnoxious.” In retrospect, it would have been
advantageous to offer a discussion on ways to
be lay autoethnographers in the training session
earlier that day, discussing techniques for how to
identify cultural ways of being or how we might
deal with our emotions in various situations
we might face. Whatever the two-hour training
sessions were to have taught us, they did not
have an impact on a couple of the volunteers
that day.
I felt mostly disappointed during that incident
that we were disrupting a young woman’s birthday.
The table of teenagers must have noticed, however,
that I was trying to calm the collective. Once our
group finally began dispersing, the teenagers
invited me to join their party. I spent time with
them until 2 a.m. participating in their way of
life, learning Kazakh, speaking poor Russian,
and doing some face-saving work (as much as I
could do with the language barrier). At the end of
the night, I was still aware of the disturbance we
had caused, and with my few words of Kazakh
I told the group that I was too nervous to hire
a taxi. I was not afraid of Kazakhstanis, I was
afraid of the association to the volunteers who had
invited recursive violence toward us. The group
of teens helped me find a taxi home, telling the
driver to take care of me because I was a “good
About five feet from where a large group of
us were standing, a very nice table, replete with
flowers and a five course meal, had been set. A
group of twelve Kazakh teenagers had assembled
in formal attire to celebrate their friend’s birthday.
22
friend.” This became one of the most memorable
nights I had in Kazakhstan. For a brief moment, I
experienced something rare. I had forgotten I was
thousands of miles from my family and friends,
feeling absolutely at home in my shared laughter
with the young Kazakhs.
distance between the global traveler (who has
changed while away) and his/her home postrupture culture. In other words, the distance
between the traveler and his/her home culture
is widened by an absence of shared history (see
Jansson, 1975, p. 136).
I felt good about what I did that July night.
Whatever stories and evidence that local patrons
to the café might have to support their claims
about rude US-American behavior, I want to
believe that I was able to offer an alternative
story for at least 12 youths. I hope I was able to
partly suture the rupture that had formed between
the US-Americans wanting to blow off steam by
having a good time and the locals who wanted to
enjoy their own party. What we needed in training
earlier that day was not a bullet-point stating that
US-Americans can be “loud and obnoxious,” but
a discussion of why we are (or perceived to be),
and some strategies for understanding when and
where it is a demonstration of cultural competence
or incompetence to be loud.
I imagine people seeing images of planes
hitting the World Trade Center over and over.
I imagine hearing people discuss what had
happened for days after. I imagine people
listening to President George W. Bush frame
the event first as a criminal act and then as an
act of war (see Jansen, 2002). I imagine people
feeling uneasy about the world’s future. I imagine
people learning new words and becoming part
of an emerging discourse, a discourse that is
incomprehensible to me. Whatever happened that
day, and whatever happened in the US for the two
years following the event, I do not know. I was in
Kazakhstan, and 130 km away from another USAmerican. I was literally outside the discursive
context of US social interaction in relation to this
nation-changing event.
Narrative 2: My post-9.11 Return to the US
Sue Curry Jansen (2002) suggests, “During
periods of historical rupture and repair, the
normally invisible stratagems that the powerful
use to create, cultivate, and mobilize public
consent become visible” (p. 157). That is to say,
people suddenly realize the frailty of the central
discourse and the fragility of their worldviews.
Michiko Kakutani (2001) suggests that cultural
rupture—as in 9.11— is usually caused by a
“horror beyond words” (n.p.). But John Sifton
(2001) reminds us that the feelings of cultural
vertigo after rupture are always only temporary.
During such times people will at first feel that
some things are too dangerous to think about
and say (Der Derian, 2001), but eventually new
words and languages will repair and reorder
cultural participants’ understanding of the event,
the world, and the culture in which the rupturing
event occurred. This leads to a larger-than-usual
cultural shift, a shift that could widen the cultural
During a series of sniper shootings and
anthrax scares in the months that followed 9.11,
I was in Kazakhstan. At the onset of the Iraq War,
in March 2003, I was in Kazakhstan. My only
access to understanding these repeated events
of fear and rupture was through the language
and the lenses of the people in Leninogorsk—a
Russian mountain village located high in the Altai
Mountains near the Russian, Mongolian, and
Chinese border. I experienced these events through
a hybrid US-American-Russian-Kazakh cultural
discourse. The only US-American perspective I
had was through the three-week old Newsweek
magazines I received courtesy of the Peace
Corps. I was always behind. I had no television.
No radio. No easy access to the Internet. No
other US-Americans in my community. I spoke
infrequently with my family in the United States.
I was isolated. When I emerged back into the US
from Kazakhstan in June 2003, I immediately felt
a strong sense of estrangement. Everything felt
23
Volume 5: 2008
out of place. Simply put, people spoke and acted
differently.
The shoppers in the aisle dispersed quickly. I
must have looked miserable and frightening, but
I was stunned that nobody asked me what was
wrong. They were afraid of me. My behavior
was abnormal and foreign to them, just as theirs
was to me.
Standing in a supermarket checkout, trying to
buy a blue toothbrush to replace the one I had left
in the backseat pocket of a chair on the airplane,
I thought I was happy to be home. Without
warning, however, I could taste the acidic flavor
of vomit in my mouth. I felt deep from within
my gut a tremble that crawled up my spine and
worked its way into my heart. My heart fluttered,
beat irregularly, raced. I thought I was having a
heart attack. Maybe not, I was too young for that.
I thought I might just be ill from plane food. I
wondered if it was stress, but I discounted that
because I was buying something without having
to translate. It got worse. I couldn’t breath. For the
first time in my life, I was experiencing a panic
attack. I would later understand that my body was
stressed because I had too many choices. It had
taken me five minutes to choose one toothbrush
from the rack of 200 plus choices. In Kazakhstan,
it would have been simple. I can picture the
transaction as going something like this: “Please
give me a toothbrush.” “This is the only one
I have,” s/he would respond as s/he hands me
the toothbrush. “I’ll take it,” I’d say. I had left a
society of consumerism to which I had once been
accustomed. Upon returning, I felt overwhelmed
by what most others would consider mundane
shopping. Kazakhstan, while quickly adapting to
global forces, still has relatively fewer consumer
choices, especially in the smaller towns and
villages. Re-entry into the world of choice after
just two years was overwhelming.
Within a minute I had regained composure.
Much milder panic attacks would jolt my body
and my emotions for the next two years. They
were often triggered when I was around people,
when I would say something that just didn’t fit
in with the proper discourse (e.g., “What were
you doing on 9.11?”) My experience really
was minimal. I had nothing to say, no prepared
response. It was 9.12 when I finally heard the
news. My school called a special assembly to
say they were saddened by the tragedy, and they
were genuinely concerned about me. But it was
a typical day in Kazakhstan, so we went about
our business. I taught my one lesson, and then
sat around in my empty apartment wondering if I
should use the event as a good excuse for ending
my service early.
In other instances, I would feel anxious when
people asked me about Kazakhstan. How do I
squeeze two-years of life changing experiences
into one sentence? I quickly learned that this
question was asked out of politeness, not genuine
interest. I always had pictured people would care,
but as one of my fellow volunteers summarized, “I
want to talk about my life in Kazakhstan, but there
is no context for people to imagine that here [the
US]; my sister really just wants to talk about her
son’s soccer match.” I did want to share my story
about being evacuated from my community early
because somebody was targeting my apartment
with hateful words like “Die American Pig” as
we prepared to go to war with Iraq. I did want
to tell the story of taking a 130 km cab ride over
a mountain with a cab driver that had no hands,
just stubs that went to his elbows. But how do I
tell such stories without reifying the stereotype
of Kazakhstan as a “backward” place? How do I
say I was sympathetic to the writing on my door,
I went and stood in the checkout line, I
realized that my panic was growing worse. I
got out of the long line and I walked around the
store, wondering if I’d have to call 911. Was this
an emergency situation? My mind felt numb and
my eyes hazed with tingling bursts of black and
white dots. My pupils filled with the static snow of
an un-tuned television. As the shaking subsided, I
realized I was kneeling in an aisle, my head even
to a box of generic brand cereal, dry heaving.
24
given the history of US-USSR relations, without
seeming unpatriotic or crazy? How do I say that
Kazakhstan was so similar to Wyoming in both
its geography and population density, without
losing all the ways in which Kazakhstan is so
different? These are questions I never had to
think about before going to Kazakhstan, questions
most others in the US cannot even fathom. With
time, I have come to learn how to narrate these
stories in complicated, nuanced, and emotive
ways. I learned this, in the academy, through
autoethnography.
repetitive panic attacks. I agree with bell hooks
(1994), who states that theory is emancipating.
Although our struggles stem from different
traumas, I too feel that “I found a place of sanctuary
in ‘theorizing,’ in making sense out of what was
happening” (p. 61). I found a place where I could
imagine possible futures, a place where life
could be lived differently. This lived experience
of critical thinking, of reflection and analysis,
became a place where I worked at explaining and
remedying the hurt of re-entry and unfamiliarity
that I was feeling in the post-9.11 US culture.
Fundamentally, I learned from this experience
that theory could be a healing place. However,
in order to theorize a social practice one needs
a method for discovery and understanding. That
method for me, is self-reflexive autoethnography.
While theory and practice (i.e., praxis) may
not be inherently healing or liberating, a selfreflexive ontological practice can fill the voids
created by social ruptures and personal wounds.
We as scholars, however, consciously initiate the
powerful process of theorizing. Many of us use
self-reflexivity as a way to be cautious about the
effect of our research practices. In relationship
to the neophyte global traveler’s (or the illequipped seasoned global traveler’s) intercultural
experience, self-reflexivity and autoethnographic
techniques are two additionally valuable tools that
intercultural trainers can offer their “students.”
The Discovery of Autoethnography
Resituating my experience through an
autoethnographic lens helped me cope with the
discursive, psychological, and physiological
trouble I was having. I know that I am not
alone in my struggle to re-assimilate into a
world I thought I once understood. In his book,
Keywords: A Vocabulary of Culture and Society
(1976), Raymond Williams describes his return
to Cambridge, England, in 1945. He describes
the conceptual shifts in his culture that were
brought on by World War II. Williams illustrates
what it was like for him to finally meet with a
former military acquaintance—someone he could
understand. He indicates that they both said,
almost simultaneously, “The fact is, they [fellow
Brits] just don’t speak the same language” (p.
13). Jansen (2002), who describes the power of
communication scholarship to help individuals
cope with the cultural ruptures brought on
by personal and social trauma, states that for
“Williams, of course, [he] used scholarship to
cope with his disorientation. He undertook an
inventory. . . a genealogy, of the formation of key
terms and concepts in the English language” (p.
157). In uncertain cultural times, theorizing can,
indeed, ease the souls that get displaced during
significant cultural collisions.
Much of my pain of readjustment and reentry
could have been alleviated much earlier had I been
taught the tools associated with autoethnography,
especially self-reflexivity, during my Peace
Corps training. Once I explored them within
the academy, these tools did help. With these
theoretical and methodological tools, I have been
able to more effectively hone in on where my
frustration and anxiety originates. In other words,
autoethnography, as Crawford (1996) notes, is a
useful orientation for living. As mentioned earlier,
it enables us to embrace an ethics of self-care, by
“knowing what [we] can reasonably hope for.”
(Foucault, 1984/2003). Autoethnography forced
Two parts of autoethnographic work—
theorizing and reflexivity—offered the relief from
unsatisfying interpersonal communication and
25
Volume 5: 2008
me to ask difficult questions and to reexamine
myself and the larger cultures in which I exist.
What I found provided me an outlet for achieving
peace of mind. Global travelers, particularly
those involved in lengthy stays in a culture where
they do not have communicative competence,
would better their own as well as others’ lives
if they were taught how to understand the
“Self” in relationship to “Other.” Under normal
circumstances, everyone is capable of learning and
using with some success (and for the betterment
of intercultural relationships) the methods used by
autoethnographers. The situated recovering of the
“loud and obnoxious US-Americans” through my
use of self-reflexivity in situ and my frustrating
return to the US stand as two exemplars of how
being conscious of oneself can positively impact
the way one cares for the Self and, ultimately,
cultural Others.
disorienting. Therefore, I contend that practices
of autoethnography should be taught to “trainees”
at all levels of society. For several scholars,
autoethnography and theory have been useful for
them to cope with significant personal tragedy and
loss (e.g. Crawford, 1996). These practices can
(and should) be taught to any individual. At the
very least, trainees can understand these practices
enough so that they can make better sense of our
very dynamic and culturally diverse world.
I offer, therefore, the following criteria for
trainers to offer lay sojourners so that they can
become more culturally secure and self aware.
While many of these skills are usually developed
over the course of a lifetime, simply exposing
these concepts to non-academics—as teaching in
the reflexive classroom shows (Diller, 1999)—can
have a positive impact on the way people make
sense and narrate their (intercultural) experiences
and behaviors.
So rather than having solely taught Peace
Corps volunteers dichotomies and binaries that
operate under the intercultural-exchange logics
developed by anthropologists such as Edward
T. Hall at the Foreign Service Institute in the
late 1950s (Hall, 1959) and expanded on in later
scholarship (e.g. Gudykunst, 1995), I wish the
trainers had introduced me to autoethnography.
(1) Understand (y)our prejudices. As Norman
Denzin (2000) reminds us, while there may only
be interpretation, this does not mean that writing
and speaking are innocent practices. He writes,
“we are in the business of . . . changing the
world” (p. 256). In order to transform the world
through social justice and democratic means,
we must reflect on the prejudices (i.e., our “prejudgments”) that we bring to any situation and
place. We must encourage student-trainees to be
aware of how communicative interactions affect
people as it gives rise to particular discourses.
Autoethnographic Techniques
for Intercultural Trainers
By spending significant amounts of time in
a nationally-defined culture (e.g., Kazakhstan)
or linguistic community (e.g., Philipsen, 1975)
as outsiders, whether by choice or not, we are
bound to arrive back to a new cognitive place.
This is because our minds have been stretched to
consider broader possibilities, different practices,
and diverse “theories” for understanding our
world. Or, because time has changed the place
we once knew so well. We will no longer, nor
should we, think and speak from the same
perspective. As I have demonstrated by narrating
my own experiences, this new way of seeing
things can be simultaneously liberating and
We must ask trainees to identify what their
behaviors, beliefs, and values are; and how they
are historically rendered. We should ask them
to not only identify how they obtained such
values, but who these particular values benefit.
Finally, we must ask them to consider how their
beliefs, behaviors, and values impact the way
they understand other people’s beliefs, behaviors,
attitudes, and values. A significant portion of
training, therefore, should be spent having
trainees reflect on these personal and cultural
26
attributes rather than providing a list of cultural
do’s and don’ts. A caveat: It is impossible, perhaps
even unproductive, to take the “critical turn”
demanded by critical and performative pedagogy
in short training sessions. In longer ones, like
the two-month pre-service training offered by
the Peace Corps or in our classrooms, perhaps
these approaches could more closely resemble
“critical” problem-posing methods. My point
here is that we have to “make do” with what is
the current reality of short training sessions.
and academic settings suggests that while they
are always an inter-active and “fun” experience,
many of these activities have a tendency to
involve heavy use of stereotypes and are often
followed with weak debriefings that do not dispel
the myths involved. An alternative activity would
be to situate the experience within the trainees’
own histories. They should be asked to recall
times when they have been personally offended
by someone, such as a friend or a family member.
Based on these scenarios they can then begin to
role play, reflecting on ways they themselves
might have misunderstood the initial action of
the offending party. Then other members can
offer scenarios that provide different ways of
confronting the individual and rectifying the
problem. While this might not get to the heart
of cultural differences, it helps people to begin
engaging with problems in dynamic ways. It also
creates an atmosphere of open communication.
Knowing that there are multiple communicative
approaches to dealing with conflict, even among
homogenous group members, can go a long way
to reminding trainees that while there might
be “macro” cultural differences, there are also
individual differences within each culture. This
point will be demonstrated by the diversity of
approaches that the various trainees, most likely
all from the same culture, would “deal” with the
scenario presented.
One way of completing this effort in short
trainings is to have trainees identify what sorts
of pre-judgments they use to get by in this
world. This can be done in a way that does not
immediately create tension among travelers with
various ideological positions. In training sessions
that I have recently observed for a travel abroad
summer program, trainers presented the group
with a staged enactment of “gift giving.” Most
of us, including myself, defined the event as
“bribery,” but in the cultural context we were
going to be entering, it was considered polite
practice. The trainers then asked us to think about
what other sorts of prejudices and biases we
would be bringing with us. They gave us some
time to write out our ideas. I think that this is a
good example of both cultural variability and
problem-posing self-reflexivity training.4
(2) Think deeply about the impact of
communicative interaction. In close relationship
with reflexivity and prejudice, student-trainees
should be encouraged to think about how
mundane, everyday social interactions affect
them and others. It must be stressed that every
decision they make will simultaneously work
to conceal and reveal the phenomenological
experience; thus, no communicative interaction
is politically neutral. The notions of monochronic
and polychronic time are not just behaviorial,
they are representative of a worldview. A popular
activity in intercultural training is role playing.
My experience as a facilitator, participant, and
observer of these activities in various business
(3) Elevate yourself through critical, conscious
endeavors. Norman Denzin (2000) claims that
autoethnography should work toward a less
Eurocentric way of thinking, and that it should
embody a practice of social justice. While this
is probably too radical or too complex to teach
to people attending a one-day to week-long
intercultural training workshop, trainers should
strive to teach with “Ethics, aesthetics, political
praxis, and epistemology . . . [because] every
act of representation is a political and ethical
statement” (p. 258). This point speaks more to the
trainers than to the trainees. Activities should be
endogenous to the training group (developed from
27
Volume 5: 2008
the trainees’ personal experiences), not abstract
scenarios based on imagined encounters (based
on generalized examples of difference). If the
point is to help trainees/students deal better with
cultural difference then there needs to be a shift
in critical consciousness, something that cannot
be taught simply by pointing out the differences.
Furthermore, it is with this point in mind that
trainees, especially those who may fall within the
dominant group, should be reminded that they too
belong to cultural groups.
is to have been granted access to their lives and
secrets. We must help trainees understand what
it means to narrate stories that reveal these lives
and secrets. Just as we would not want others to
know what goes on behind closed doors, neither
does my host family, for example, want others to
know about their personal habits.
(5) Remember that you are always a part
of the narratives you tell. Art Bochner (2000),
writes, “The purpose of self-narratives is to
extract meaning from experience exactly as it
was lived. These narratives are not so much
academic as they are existential, reflecting a
desire to grasp . . . the possibilities of meaning .”
(p. 270). Intercultural trainers should assist global
travelers in understanding this point and then offer
them strategies for creatively understanding and
conceptualizing experiences (keeping in mind,
of course, point number 4.) Soujourners’ livedexperiences, as always already narrated accounts,
should enlighten and explicate particular events
in such a way that their stories become part of
their conception of self. One should always be
asking, what does this narrative say about me?
This, I learned, helps bring greater meaning to
life-altering experiences that are common with
extended stays in other cultures. Obviously,
not every global traveler needs to write his/her
experience. But they should consider how talk
about their experience is, in a way, a text. They
will talk about the setting of the place they visited,
key characters, and the pain and happiness which
come with adjusting, adapting, and assimilating,
as they project and disrupt ongoing cultural
plots. They should realize that they are always
producing “texts” of some sort. People either
never think about this (I never had) or tend to
easily forget this point. Infusing training with
personal stories, as the points above indicate, is
very critical and will also go far in reducing the
lack of personal engagement that plagues almost
every training seminar (whether intercultural
or some other form of orientation) I have ever
attended. Intercultural training, in other words,
(4) Practice restraint. Most autoethnographers
try to avoid disrupting the culture that they enter.
We seek to be writers who do not put things down
on the page without thoroughly considering the
impact of our statements. To avoid speaking for
people we do, at times, leave out “juicy” details
that would make our stories better, but could do
significant harm to those represented. Also, while
we may not agree with the values, beliefs, and
attitudes of an individual or group with whom
we engage in intercultural communication, we
realize that restraint is often important. It is better
to speak with and to people’s hearts rather than to
simply focus on their minds. Acting or debating
in ethnocentric ways is not always the best way
to invite people to change.
An example activity is to have trainees
spend time discussing how they have practiced
restraint within their family in order to maintain
a peaceful environment, or why they would
not feel comfortable narrating some of these
familial stories to a group of strangers attending
the training seminar. The point should be made
that sometimes we must treat people from other
cultures like we would our own family members.
Subsequently, one’s interaction with others does
not end upon return home, but continues in every
story told. I think that this point is not emphasized
enough in trainings I have observed, if at all. It is
important to get people to understand that how
they narrate their experiences can either dispel
or reinforce problematic stereotypes. To have
lived with others for an extended period of time
28
should be more about the self in relation to others
than just about others.
The power of autoethnography, for me, has
been the methodological demand that I never stop
thinking and reflecting about seemingly mundane
interactions and events. I now understand that
there is always something gained in and through
this process. For example, while thinking about
my behaviors and attitudes while in Kazakhstan
I turned unpleasant experiences into valuable
lessons, some of which I shared in this paper.
By turning my traumas into possibilities and
teachable moments, I have aided myself and,
hopefully, challenged my readers to rethink some
of their own experiences.
Putting narrative into form with the four
other criteria will allow students to uncover
autoethnography as a method of personal therapy
and also provide a way to deconstruct problematic
narratives of the global world, which positions
some cultural ways over others. Doing this while
engaged in creative activities already being
conducted in intercultural training seminars—
including, for example, the “autoethnography”
activity I recently participated in where we wrote
on yellow post-it notes the cultures to which we
belong, placed them on our bodies, and offered
people the opportunity to meet us and take a note
if they also belonged or wanted to belong to that
culture— seems to me quite complementary and,
perhaps, more stimulating.
References
Anderson, B. (1991). Imagined communities:
Reflections on the origins and spread of
nationalism. London: Version.
Anderson, L. (2006). Analytic autoethnography.
Journal of Contemporary Ethnography, 35(4),
373-395.
Conclusion
I may never understand what it meant to be
simultaneously embraced by one culture and
shunned by my own at the café in Talgar on June
20, 2001. Nor may I ever fully understand why I
still needed to be included in the post-9.11 cultural
experiences as they took place in the United States
in order to understand the ways of being in my
own culture. Although I may still experience
panic attacks as I grow older, I am confident
that because of my exposure to autoethnography
that I will be able to better understand future
cultural ruptures as well as mundane intercultural
situations. As a result, I will always understand
that culture and communication are co-constructed
phenomena, not just static “things” or tools to get
by in this world.
Bochner, A. (2000). Criteria against ourselves.
Qualitative Inquiry, 6, 266-272.
Burgoon, J. (1992). Applying a comparative
approach to nonverbal expectancy violations
theory. In J. Blumer, K. Rosengren, & J. McLeod
(Eds.), Comparatively speaking (pp. 53-69).
Newbury Park, CA: Sage.
Burgoon, J. (1995). Cross-cultural and intercultural
applications of expectancy violations theory. In R.
L. Wiseman (Ed.), Intercultural communication
theory (pp.194-214). Thousand Oaks, CA:
Sage.
Buzard, J. (2003). On auto-ethnographic authority.
The Yale Journal of Criticism, 16(1), 61-91.
Lay autoethnographic practice, as it might
be done by a non-academic, will be better than
no attempt at informed reflexive practice. Aid
workers, diplomats, travelers, and all expatriates
would better serve cultures by learning how to
more critically implicate themselves in relation
to the cultural others they encounter.
Crawford, L. (1996). Personal ethnography.
Communication Monographs, 63, 158-170.
Denzin, N. K. (1997). Interpretive ethnography:
ethnographic practices for the twenty-first
century. Newbury Park, CA: Sage.
29
Volume 5: 2008
Denzin, N. K. (2000). Aesthetics and the practices
of qualitative inquiry. Qualitative Inquiry, 6,
256-265.
extension of the U-curve hypothesis. Journal of
Social Issues, 19, 33-47.
Hall, E. T. (1959). The silent language. New York:
Anchor Books.
Denzin, N. K. (2006). Analytic autoethnography,
or déjà vu all over again? Journal of Contemporary
Ethnography, 35(4), 419-428.
Hall, E. T. (1983). The dance of life. Garden City,
NY: Doubleday.
Der Derian, J. (2001). 9.11: Before, after, and in
between. Retrieved April 18, 2006, from http://
www.ssrc.org/sept11/essays/der_derian.htm
hooks, b. (1994). Teaching to transgress:
Education as the practice of freedom. New York:
Routledge.
Diller, A. (1999). Facing the torpedo fish:
Becoming a philosopher of one’s own education.
In S. Tozer (Ed.), Philosophy of education, 1998
(pp. 1-9). Urbana, IL: Philosophy of Education
Society.
Jansen, S. C. (2002). Critical communication
theory: Power, media, gender, and technology.
New York: Rowman and Littlefield.
Jansson, D. P. (1975). Return to society:
Problematic features of the re-entry process.
Perspectives in Psychiatric Care, 13, 130-145.
Ellis, C. (2004). The autoethnographic I. Walnut
Creek, CA: AltaMira Press
Kakutani, M. (2001, September 13). Struggling
to find words for a horror beyond words. The
New York Times. Retrieved March 20, 2006, from
Lexis-Nexis.
Elliot, T. S. (1943). Four quartets. New York:
Harcourt Press.
Fassett, D. L., & Warren, J. T. (2007). Critical
communication pedagogy. Thousand Oaks, CA:
Sage.
Krizek, R. L. (2003). Ethnography as the
excavation of personal narrative. In R. P. Clair
(Ed.), Expressions of ethnography (pp. 141-152).
Albany, NY: SUNY Press.
Foucault, M. (1984/1994). The ethics of the
concern of the self as a practice of freedom.
In P. Rabinow & N. Rose (Eds.), The essential
Foucault (pp. 25-42). New York: The New Press
(originally published 1984).
Lysgaard, S. (1955). Adjustment in a foreign
society: Norwegian Fulbright grantees visiting
the United States. International Social Science
Bulletin, 7, 45-51.
Gingrich-Philbrook, C. (2005). Autoethnography’s
family values: Easy access to compulsory
experiences. Text & Performance Quarterly,
25(4), 297-314.
Philipsen, G. (1975). Speaking ‘like a man’ in
Teamsterville: Culture patterns of role enactment
in an urban neighborhood. Quarterly Journal of
Speech, 61, 13-22.
Gudykunst, W. B. (1988). Uncertainty and
anxiety. In Y. Y. Kim & W. B. Gudykunst (Eds.),
Theories in intercultural communication (pp.
123-156). Newbury Park, CA: Sage.
Scott, J. W. (1991). The evidence of experience.
Critical Inquiry, 17, 773-797.
Sifton, J. (2001, September 30). Temporal vertigo.
The New York Times. Retrieved March 20, 2006,
from Lexis-Nexis.
Gudykunst, W.B. (1995). Anxiety/uncertainty
management (AUM) theory: Current status. In
R. Wiseman (Ed.), Intercultural communication
theory, (pp. 8-58). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage.
Smith, S. L. (1998). The cycle of cross-cultural
adaptation and reentry. In J. N. Martin, T. K.
Nakayama, & L. A. Flores (Eds.) Readings
Gullahorn, J. T., & Gullahorn, J. E. (1963). An
30
in cultural contexts, (pp. 246-259). London: Mayfield Publishing Co.
in autoethnography classes to consider
my body as a site/sight of privilege.) All
US-American volunteers need to think
about their position as privileged people,
as individuals who can call themselves
“volunteers” for others—working and
living in host countries. From conversations
I had with “locals,” I was very aware
of their skepticism that my “work” was
rather presumptuous (why am I capable
of teaching better than they can, anyway?)
and fulfilling part of a US-led Western
ideological imposition.
Spry, T. (2001). Performing autoethnography:
An embodied methodological praxis. Qualitative
Inquiry, 7(6), 706-732.
Starr, J. M. (1994). Peace Corps service as a
turning point. International Journal of Aging and
Human Development, 39, 137-161.
Tillmann-Healy, L. M. (2003). Friendship as
method. Qualitative Inquiry, 9(5), 729-749.
Ting-Toomey, S., & Chung, L. (1996).
Cross-cultural interpersonal communication:
theoretical trends and research directions. In W.
B. Gudykunst, S. Ting-Toomey, & T. Nishida
(Eds.). Communication in personal relationships
across cultures. (pp. 237-261). Thousand Oaks,
CA: Sage.
3. PCV = Peace Corps Volunteer; names
removed for confidentiality.
4. See Fassett and Warren (2007), chapter
5, for a thought-provoking chapter that
has been a helpful starting point for me in
generating activities to use both in training
sessions and classrooms.
Ward, C., Okura, Y., Kennedy, A., & Kojima, T.
(1998). The u-curve on trial: A longitudinal study
of psychological and sociocultural adjustment
during cross-cultural transition. International
Journal of Intercultural Relations, 22, 277-291.
Williams, R. (1976). Keywords: A vocabulary of
culture and society. New York: Oxford University
Press.Footnotes
Endnotes
1. In this paper Kazakhstani is used to refer
to nationality. Kazakhstan has more than
100 identified ethnicities (e.g. Kazakh,
Russian, Mongolian, Tatar, and Uyghur).
Where I use the term Kazakh, I am referring
to people that either I knew or I believed to
be ethnically Kazakh.
2. It is important that all individuals learn how
to be self-reflexive; however, my belief
is that privileged individuals, especially,
need the training because they have
probably never had to think about identity
politics. (Indeed, I was “liberal” and
“aware” but I was never challenged during
Peace Corps (training) like I have been
31
“May I Interest You in Today’s
Special?”: A Pilot Study of
Restaurant Servers’ ComplianceGaining Strategies
Pages 32-42
Erin E. Kleman
The American restaurant industry is a powerhouse in terms of sales and employment (National
Restaurant Association, 2007), and compliance-gaining is the fuel that drives this industry. Servers employ many different strategies to sell promotional items, more expensive meals, and drinks
to their customers. The purposes of the present study are to explore the compliance-gaining strategies used by servers at one restaurant and compare these findings with messages from management. Following a qualitative analysis of 11 hours of participant observations and interviews
with 10 servers and two managers, 10 compliance-gaining strategies emerged through constant
comparison methods. These strategies fell into two higher-order categories: tactics and approaches. Tactics included Suggestive Selling, The Extra Mile, Description, and Upselling. Approaches
included Connecting, Friendly/Upbeat, Nonverbal Immediacy, Joking Around, Feeling Out, and
Sexuality. Findings revealed inconsistencies between the strategies used by servers and those emphasized by restaurant management, which may be problematic in manager-server relationships.
Additionally, many of the strategies employed by servers are not incorporated into training materials reinforced by management. Results have implications for research on compliance-gaining and
restaurants. These results may also help improve communication between managers and servers
at this restaurant and others like it.
A
ccording to the National Restaurant
Association (2007), American
restaurants are expected to gross
over $537 billion in 2007, and in the same year
the overall economic impact of the restaurant
industry is expected to exceed $1.3 trillion.
In addition, the restaurant industry employs
approximately 12.8 million people, making it
one of the nation’s largest employers, second
only to the government (National Restaurant
Association, 2007). The restaurant industry
remains an economic powerhouse because of its
ability to sell a desirable dining experience to
customers. These sales rely on the communicative
abilities of restaurant staff, especially servers. If
servers are able to make larger sales, restaurants
are more likely to thrive. Additionally, bigger
sales often lead to bigger tips, as tipping is often
based on a percentage of the bill. Therefore,
interpersonal strategies are central to the success
of the American restaurant industry.
The purpose of this study is to examine
servers’ interpersonal persuasion strategies in a
casual dining restaurant and to compare servers
and management in their perceptions of these
strategies. Toward this end, I will begin with a
brief review of the major conceptual areas of
inquiry. Then, guiding research questions are
posed.
Erin E. Kleman recently finished her Ph.D. at Kent
State University, and is now an Assistant Professor at Kent State University’s Stark Campus. She
would like to thank Dr. Robyn Parker for her
guidance on this project, and the management and
staff at the research site for their willing participation. Also, Erin wishes to thank the editors and
reviewers who have contributed suggestions for
this piece.
Literature Review
This study is located within the perspective
of compliance gaining. Compliance-gaining
32
Volume 5: 2008
is the study of persuasion within interpersonal
communication processes (Dillard, Anderson, &
Knobloch, 2002) and is decidedly interactive in
its theoretical focus. The processual setting and
the interactive focus direct one to appropriate
ethnographic methodologies. Compliancegaining has been studied in many contexts,
including relationship development and change
(e.g., Bevan, Cameron, & Dillow, 2003),
doctor-patient communication (e.g., Wrench
& Booth-Butterfield, 2003), and instructional
communication (e.g., Golish, 1999). Additionally,
research has also more closely examined
particular compliance-gaining techniques, such as
the foot-in-the-door effect (Freedman & Fraser,
1966) or, more recently, the disrupt-then-reframe
technique (Davis & Knowles, 1999). Although
the compliance-gaining framework established
by communication scholars has informed many
fields of study, this body of knowledge has not
informed the restaurant industry.
Schrader, 1998), writing a helpful message on the
backs of checks (Rind & Strohmetz, 1999), and
writing a patriotic message on the back of checks
(Seiter & Gass, 2005). As Rind and Strohmetz
(2001) explained, these effects are assumed to
result in larger tips because servers have conjured
up positive feelings in their customers. However,
this research suffers from a lack of guiding
theory. Additionally, this body of research does
not explore the communicative complexities of
these compliance-gaining situation. Although
such behavioral modifications may affect
tipping, servers’ actual interpersonal interaction
patterns with customers should be examined to
reveal other ways of gaining compliance from
customers, resulting in customers spending more
money at restaurants and, as a result, leaving
larger tips.
Participant Observation Methodology
Participant observation is useful for studying
communication processes in organizations
(Hickson, 1974). Although control is not possible
with this type of methodology, it is sacrificed in
return for richer, more valid data that is true to
the context and more spontaneous (Shuter, 1975).
Participant observation has been used recently
to study a number of aspects of organizational
communication, including the narratives created
in an organization for disabled people (Harter,
Scott, Novak, Leeman, & Morris, 2006), the
assimilation of new firefighters into fire stations
(Myers, 2005), and the use of storytelling
to acculturate employees into a television
production organization (Smith & Keyton, 2001).
It is expected that employing this data collection
method will allow a closer, more intimate look at
compliance gaining in a restaurant setting.
Compliance-Gaining in
Restaurants – Tactics for Tips
One situation in which compliance-gaining
has practical consequences is in the restaurant
industry. Because customer sales drive restaurants,
and the large majority of restaurant staffs’ earnings
depends on tips (usually based on a percentage
of customers’ checks), compliance-gaining is
crucial to the success of a restaurant. A search of
the literature on restaurant servers’ compliancegaining behaviors suggests that previous studies
have largely focused on the presumed effects of
compliance-gaining strategies – tipping (Davis
& Schrader, 1998; Rind & Bordia, 1995).
Techniques for improving tipping have largely
centered on behavioral changes servers may
make. For example, Rind and Bordia (1995) found
that writing “thank you” on the backs of checks
increased servers’ tips. In another study, when
female servers drew a smiley face on the backs
of checks, tips increased (Rind & Bordia, 1996).
Other studies examined the effects of squatting
or standing when taking orders (S. F. Davis &
Guiding Research Questions
The field of compliance-gaining research
would benefit from qualitatively examining the
methods people actually use to seek compliance
from others. Such a study would help fill a
gap in research on restaurants and broaden our
33
Compliance Gaining
understanding of interpersonal influence between
servers and customers beyond simply writing
“thank you” on the backs of checks. In addition,
a qualitative examination of compliance-gaining
strategies may shed light on the actual compliancegaining strategies used in restaurants, aside from
the a priori typologies and hypothetical situations
characteristic of much quantitative compliancegaining research (e.g., Miller, Boster, Roloff,
& Seibold, 1977; Marwell & Schmidt, 1967).
Considering the aforementioned research on
compliance-gaining and restaurants, the following
questions are posed to guide this study:
families looking for a value when dining out
(personal communication, September 20, 2005).
According to management, competition among
these restaurants results in a “sell or be sold”
environment for all levels of Café’s management
and employees, where skilled compliance-gaining
behavior can make the difference between
succeeding and being unemployed. Café’s
situation in a highly competitive environment
makes it complementary to this study’s research
questions. Studying compliance-gaining in such
a competitive environment may yield more
knowledge about the interactive process of
compliance-gaining, resulting in a more complete
understanding than previous research revealed.
Additionally, the increased need to sell may
result in a larger variety of compliance-gaining
strategies.
RQ1: How do restaurant servers gain
compliance from customers?
RQ2: How do restaurant servers and managers
compare in their perceptions of useful
compliance-gaining strategies?
Café is a casual-dining establishment. The
lighting is moderately low, booths and tables are
designed for comfort, and various posters and
memorabilia hang on the walls. This restaurant
has an Irish theme, and upon entering, people
may feel as though they are entering an authentic
Irish pub. The bar area and adjoining patio, with
approximately 13 tables, are separated from the
main dining room by a brick wall with large
windows to the ceiling. The main dining room
houses about 40 tables and booths. Three wait
stations are located throughout the restaurant.
Café is dark and comfortable, as evidenced by
the decorations, strong wood furniture, and
muted colors. The ambiance in this restaurant
is comfortable – unassuming and sometimes
boisterous. It is the kind of restaurant where
a family or a group of friends can spend time
eating affordable food and enjoying one another’s
company.
Methods
In order to examine servers’ compliancegaining strategies, this pilot study employed a
qualitative, interview-based approach. In the
following sections, I describe the research site,
participants, data collection, and data analysis
techniques.
Research Site
Compliance-gaining was studied within
the context of a casual dining establishment in
a mid-sized city in the Midwest United States.
Theoretical sampling techniques were employed to
choose the data collection site. The research site is
a chain restaurant, hereafter called Café. Although
compliance-gaining is a necessary process in
all restaurants, the need to make higher sales is
likely increased in this site due to its location.
Café is located in the heart of a busy shopping
district known for its restaurants. Located one
block away from a shopping mall, this part of
the city is especially consumer-driven. Numerous
popular restaurants are within ¼ mile of Café.
These restaurants are competing for what Café’s
general manager described as average income
From observation and personal experience,
the average dining experience is relaxed. A table
of two may spend about an hour in Café for dinner.
Servers are friendly and often talkative, suggesting
promotional items and making small-talk. Café’s
marketing targets 21 to 39 year old couples with
34
Volume 5: 2008
dual incomes and no children; however, Tuesday
evenings are specifically devoted to families
with children. The bar typically sees 21- to 30year-old patrons, especially on Monday evenings
when there are more drink specials (General
Manager, personal communication, September
20, 2005). During lunch, customers are often in
a hurry. Dinner patrons are more interested in an
informal, laid-back dining experience. Café is
simply a friendly, non-threatening restaurant to
grab a quick lunch, a leisurely dinner, or a muchneeded nightcap.
Data Collection Processes
This qualitative study represents a first look
at the compliance-gaining strategies of servers in
Café. Upon entering the research site, I gathered
data from any means necessary. Several sources
of evidence were examined to create a chain
of evidence (see Yin, 1994). Types of evidence
studied included observation, interviews, physical
artifacts, documents, and archival records. As
my familiarity with the Café grew, I focused my
data collection efforts on two sources of data –
participant observations and interviews.
Participants
At the time of data collection, Café employed
26 front-of-house staff (servers, bartenders,
hosts) and 14 back-of-house staff (line cooks,
prep cooks, dishwashers). There were three
managers at Café. I examined the behaviors of
any employees who were working during times
of observation. I interviewed two managers and
10 servers in this study. The managers were both
middle-aged men. Four of the servers interviewed
were men and six were women. The servers
ranged in age from approximately late teens to
mid-30s.
Participant Observations. A total of 11 hours
were spent in the research site gathering data
through participant observations and interviews.
Although data collection continued until I reached
the point of saturation, this study is considered a
pilot study because of the amount of time spent in
the field. During observation, I took seven typed
pages of field notes from observations of servers’
interactions with customers.
It is important to mention that I have worked
sporadically at Café for 5 years prior to data
collection. Although I did not work at Café
during this study, I served as a participantobserver insomuch as I have prior knowledge
of the organization and established relationships
with some of the managers and staff members.
This insider knowledge and these existing
relationships aided data collection, analysis,
and interpretation, and helped to create a more
trusting environment in which observations and
interviews took place.
Before observing or interviewing participants,
I obtained consent from Café’s general manager to
collect data at the research site. Also, I informed
employees who were observed that I would be
watching them for research purposes. I explained
that this project was not being conducted for
the restaurant and assured participants of their
confidentiality. Informed consent was acquired
from each interview participant before interviews
began. Participants were chosen based on
whether or not they were working during the
time of observation. Additionally, I made sure
to interview each of the servers that the general
manager identified as top sellers (personal
communication, September 20. 2005), because
it seems that the most successful servers would
use the most effective compliance-gaining
strategies and perhaps display more variety in
their compliance-gaining techniques.
Interviews. According to Tellis (1997), one
of the most important sources of evidence is the
interview because interviews allow researchers
to get inside the heads of their participants.
Additionally, interviews helped me check my
observations and clarify any perceptions I
gained during observation. Most interviews were
conducted one-on-one, while one interview was
carried out with two servers who seemed to be in
a hurry to leave after a long shift. Interviews with
35
Compliance Gaining
10 servers and 2 managers were recorded through
detailed notes, yielding 29 typed pages of notes.
I used both open-ended and focused interviews
to reveal the compliance-gaining system at
Café (Tellis, 1997). Interviews fluctuated from
5 minutes to 1 hour in length. (See Appendix
for the interview guide used in interviews with
servers.)
than not.
The first time the server data was open coded,
15 compliance-gaining strategies emerged.
Reconsideration of the research questions and
codes led to a second pass through the data.
Thirteen server compliance-gaining strategies
emerged from this second consideration of the
data. In order to exclude anecdotal themes, two
standards were created to determine inclusion
of codes. First, codes must have been apparent
in more than one of the 10 server interviews.
Second, the frequency count of each included
code must have been more than two. Both of
these standards were needed to include a code in
further analysis and interpretation. After applying
these standards, three codes were considered
unrepresentative, and thus were excluded from
further analysis and interpretation. For details on
the 10 codes used in axial coding, see Table 1.
Data Analysis
The research questions guiding this study
require data analysis tactics that generate
meaning. Therefore, I noted the themes, patterns,
and clusters that emerged from the data (Miles &
Huberman, 1994). Also, I used frequency counts
to discover the meaning in my data. Generally,
constant comparison was employed throughout
this project to analyze the data elicited from
notes taken during observation and interviews.
Constant comparison is an iterative coding
strategy that involves the continual examination
and reexamination of data when analyzing
and interpreting (Charmaz, 2000). “Unlike
quantitative research that requires data to fit into
preconceived standardized codes, the researcher’s
interpretations of data shape his or her emergent
codes” (Charmaz, 2000, p. 515). This method of
data analysis is useful in this exploratory study
because I did not want to permit any existing
compliance-gaining typologies to color my data
analysis. Also, the iterative nature of constant
comparison allows for more interaction between
the data and the researcher, resulting in a fresh
perspective of the data (Charmaz, 2000).
The 10 codes were iteratively sorted to
categorize the data. Improved fit was achieved
when codes were sorted into two categories:
tactics, or typically isolated compliance-gaining
strategies that seem to align with the current
research framework of compliance-gaining in
restaurants, and approaches, or longer-lasting
compliance-gaining strategies that appear new to
the study of compliance-gaining in restaurants.
See Table 1 for exemplars and frequencies of
each code.
Results
Servers’ Compliance-Gaining Strategies
Using constant comparison, the data was
analyzed for themes through open coding, as this
was an exploratory study. A theme was defined
as a concept formed from pieces of data that had
consistent meanings. In other words, when pieces
of data were similar among notes, they were
defined as a theme (Miles & Huberman, 1994).
As themes emerged, codes were delineated in the
codebook. Coding was in vivo whenever possible,
yielding labels, descriptions, and guidelines for
inclusion that emerged from the data more often
Tactics. Research Question 1 was asked
to explore the compliance-gaining strategies
used by restaurant servers. Field and interview
notes revealed 44 coded instances of tactics and
70 coded instances of approaches. Tactics are
compliance-gaining strategies that can be used
in isolation throughout the table visit. Tactics
are quick compliance-gaining techniques that are
encompassed within a single message or behavior
during the table visit. Codes that were categorized
36
Volume 5: 2008
as tactics include Suggestive Selling, The Extra
Mile, Description, and Upselling (see Table
1). For example, a server may offer a specific
appetizer at the beginning of the visit, which is
a Suggestive Selling tactic. The Extra Mile is an
action that appears to go above and beyond what
is required of a server. For example, one server
mentioned that she brings a sample of food if the
customer is indecisive. Servers use Description
when they explain the dish in an enticing manner.
Finally, Upselling is the term servers use for
increasing the table’s check by offering more
Table 1
Exemplars and Frequencies of Codes
Code Name
Exemplar
Frequency
Tactics
Suggestive Selling
Offers specific appetizers or desserts
23 (20.18%)
The Extra Mile
Refills drinks without customer’s request
10 (8.77%)
Description
Entices customers by describing food in a
delicious manner
7 (6.14%)
Upselling
Offers soup and salad in addition to an ordered
entrée
4 (3.51%)
44 (38.60%)
Approaches
Connecting
Chats with customers
20 (17.54%)
Friendly/Upbeat
Uses a cheerful and energetic voice
16 (14.04%)
Nonverbal Immediacy
Sustains eye contact and smiles
12 (10.53%)
Joking Around
Says, “Well you were hungry, huh?” when
clearing an empty plate
10 (8.77%)
Feeling Out
Gets a read on the table’s personality by
observing their actions
6 (5.26%)
Sexuality
Uses good looks to influence customers
6 (5.26%)
70 (61.40%)
Note. N = 114.
37
Compliance Gaining
expensive items in addition to or as a substitute
for what they ordered. For example, if a customer
orders a Bloody Mary, the server offers a more
expensive vodka for the drink in an attempt to
“upsell” on the drink.
enjoy the menu items themselves.
Tactics are more likely to align with existing
literature’s approach to studying compliancegaining in restaurants. Much like extant research
on smiley faces (Rind & Bordia, 1996) and
“thank-you’s” (Rind & Bordia, 1995), tactics are
isolated compliance-gaining “tricks.” However,
approaches represent a different method of
compliance-gaining.
Despite the prominence of tactics at Café, as
evidenced by the 44 coded instances found, some
servers questioned their use, especially Suggestive
Selling and Upselling. One server explained that
Suggestive Selling is not a consistently successful
compliance-gaining strategy, and three others
admitted that even when tactics are effective,
they usually make only a small impact on the
customer’s check. One server explained that he
felt uncomfortable Upselling and Suggestively
Selling because these tactics do not coincide
with his personality. When asked what methods
he uses to try to sell to his customers, this server
said, “Upselling and some other things that I’m
not comfortable doing.” Although the negative
view of Suggestive Selling and Upselling was
the majority opinion among servers, there was
a dissenting opinion. One server indicated that
Suggestive Selling was the only compliancegaining strategy he used. He explained that
as long as items are suggested in moderation
(specifically, suggesting two or three items before
customers order), this tactic is quite effective.
According to this server, he suggests items from
the menu because that is persuasive to him as a
customer when he is out to dinner.
Approaches. Approaches are compliancegaining strategies that are more likely to persist
throughout the table visit, which appeared in
the majority (61.4%) of the coded instances of
compliance-gaining strategies. Percentages were
calculated by taking the number of approaches
coded (n = 70) divided by the total coded
instances (N = 114). Codes that were categorized
as approaches included Connecting, Friendly/
Upbeat, Nonverbal Immediacy, Joking Around,
Feeling Out, and Sexuality (see Table 1). These
approaches tend to be more interactional in
nature than tactics; in other words, they are more
receiver-oriented and involve the customers in
dialogue. Also, approaches were not often isolated
instances during a table visit, but instead occurred
throughout a customer’s meal. For example,
servers try to connect with customers throughout
the table visit by introducing themselves by name,
chatting about the weather, disclosing personal
information, and referring back to information
customers disclosed earlier in the table visit,
which are Connecting strategies.
The other two tactics – The Extra Mile and
Description – seemed to be perceived more
positively among servers. According to two
servers, going above and beyond the call of duty
(The Extra Mile) is key to a successful table.
During my observations, I watched servers going
The Extra Mile several times. For example,
one person was able to serve each patron at a
large table without asking who ordered what.
Although Description was only mentioned by
three servers, their evaluations of this tactic seem
positive. Specifically, two servers explained that
Description is especially successful if the servers
Friendly/Upbeat included any message or
behavior that communicated a general sense of
friendliness and energy, such as using a higherpitched voice, thanking customers, and wishing
them a good day or evening. I also observed
several Nonverbal Immediacy behaviors, such
as sustained eye contact, smiling, and touching
customers on the arm. Joking Around was
discussed during interviews and observed. For
example, after a customer threatened (in jest) to
leave his children with the server, she retorted,
38
Volume 5: 2008
“No way! I already have two of my own!”
Servers identified Feeling Out as an important
compliance-gaining approach. This involved
“getting a read on their personalities,” as one
server described. Finally, a couple of servers
admitted to using their Sexuality when trying to
increase customers’ checks. For example, they
said they relied on their good looks to influence
customers. One male server explained that even
though the good-looking female servers can flirt
to make sales, he is hesitant to use Sexuality for
fear that female customers would be offended.
compliance-gaining strategies. The interview
with the general manager revealed four instances
of Suggestive Selling, mentioning it is the most
important strategy a server can use to sell to a
table. Another manager interview revealed one
instance of Description. Management’s focus on
tactics stands in stark contrast to the majority of
server data coded into approaches.
As mentioned above, servers tended to have
a negative view of tactics such as Suggestive
Selling and Upselling. However, management
focused on these tactics, largely ignoring the
many approaches discussed by servers and
observed in their behaviors. This discrepancy in
opinions may lead to negative feelings between
servers and management, which could hinder the
development of a healthy relationship and work
atmosphere at Café.
The preceding tactics and approaches emerged
from the field notes and notes from interviews.
In addition to discovering the compliancegaining strategies servers used, I also compared
their strategies, as evidenced in observations
and interviews, with those recommended by
management through interviews and training
material.
Again, servers used and discussed approaches
more than tactics in this study. However, little
attention has been paid to approaches in restaurant
research and by Café’s management. Instead,
research and management have focused on tactics
as the primary means of gaining compliance.
Therefore, findings from this pilot study suggest
a need to continue exploring the impact of
approaches on compliance-gaining in restaurants.
At Café, this discrepancy between servers actual
behavior and training material may reveal a lack
of understanding of the array of compliancegaining strategies available to servers.
Servers vs. Managers
Research Question 2 asked how servers and
managers compare in their perceptions of useful
compliance-gaining strategies. Overall, my
analysis revealed a discrepancy between servers
and managers. Servers emphasized approaches
overall, as evidenced by their frequency count
in observations and interviews. However,
management primarily focused on tactics. This
importance placed on tactics by management
is apparent in training materials and through
interviews with managers.
Discussion
The purposes of this pilot study were to
explore the compliance-gaining strategies
servers use when interacting with customers and
to compare these strategies to those advocated
for by management. In response to the first
research question, data from interviews and
observation revealed 10 strategies, which were
further sorted into two categories – tactics and
approaches. Tactics were emphasized more by
management; however, approaches were referred
to more frequently among servers. These findings
Restaurant training tends to focus on scripted
behaviors like Suggestive Selling and Upselling,
such as those tactics found in the present study.
From my participation in the organization, I
know that Café’s corporate training materials
and management discuss each of these four
tactics at the beginning of a server’s employment,
and these tactics are often reinforced through
management’s communication with servers.
The two managers interviewed mentioned only
tactics, not approaches, when discussing servers’
39
Compliance Gaining
have contributed to our understanding of how
compliance-gaining works in the real-world
context of restaurants.
Teaching a broad array of compliance-gaining
strategies – including both tactics and approaches
– may result in more successful selling behavior,
which would lead to larger tips for servers and
more sales revenue for restaurants.
The methodology of this study may be
used in future compliance-gaining studies as
an alternative to the more common selection
(Marwell & Schmidt, 1967) and construction
methods (Burleson et al., 1988). By immersing
myself into the research site through participant
observation and interviews, I was able to elicit
the compliance-gaining strategies used by servers
in their daily interactions at work. Additionally,
the iterative coding strategy allowed for a more
valid typology of compliance-gaining strategies
to emerge, which was representative of servers’
experiences at Café. Perhaps a qualitative
approach is the answer to the methodology wars
surrounding compliance-gaining research.
Although this pilot study’s findings have
theoretical and practical implications, these
findings should be further explored in future
research. Future research should attend to these
new findings, attempting to better comprehend
approaches in order to improve management’s
awareness of compliance-gaining in restaurants.
Additionally, discrepancies between management
and servers in their perceptions of available
compliance-gaining strategies suggest a need to
investigate the implications of these incongruities.
Such explorations would yield more valid
explanations of compliance-gaining behaviors
in people’s lived experiences.
The approaches that emerged in the present
study are also significant to research on
compliance-gaining in restaurants, primarily
because they reveal strategies that have thus
been largely ignored. The approaches, such as
Connecting, Feeling Out, and Joking Around,
should be incorporated in research on server
behavior. Doing so would help reveal the more
complex and accurate picture of restaurants as
sites for compliance-gaining behavior beyond
simply drawing smiley faces on customer
checks.
References
Bevan, J. L., Cameron, K. A., & Dillow, M.
R. (2003). One more try: Compliance-gaining
strategies associated with romantic reconciliation
attempts. Southern Communication Journal, 68,
121-135.
Burleson, B. R., Wilson, S. R., Waltman, M.
S., Goering, E. M., Ely, T. K., & Whaley, B. B.
(1988). Item desirability effects in compliancegaining research: Seven studies documenting
artifacts in the strategy selection procedure.
Human Communication Research, 14, 429-486.
Results of this study could have practical
implications for Café and possibly other casual
chain restaurants. Comparing findings from
servers’ data with the managers’ interviews and
training materials showed that servers focused
on approaches more than managers did. In
fact, managers did not identify any instances of
approaches, but instead discussed Suggestive
Selling and Description. As mentioned above, this
discrepancy is problematic. Findings from this
study could help educate servers and managers
on each other’s perspective, which would lead to
more understanding and more helpful training.
Charmaz, K. (2000). Grounded theory: Objectivist
and constructivist methods. In N. K. Denzin &
Y. S. Lincoln (Eds.), Handbook of Qualitative
Research (2nd ed., pp. 509-535). Thousand Oaks,
CA: Sage.
Davis, B. P., & Knowles, E. S. (1999). A disruptthen-reframe technique of social influence.
Journal of Personality and Social Psychology,
76, 192-199.
40
Volume 5: 2008
Davis, S. F., & Schrader, B. (1998). Restaurant
servers influence tipping behavior. Psychological
Reports, 83, 223-226.
344-384.National Restaurant Association. (2007).
Restaurant industry facts. Retrieved January 28,
2006, from http://www.restaurant.org/research/
ind_glance.cfm
Dillard, J. P., Anderson, J. W., & Knobloch, L. K.
(2002). Interpersonal influence. In M. L. Knapp
& J. A. Daly (Eds.), Handbook of interpersonal
communication (3rd ed., pp. 425-474). Thousand
Oaks, CA: Sage.
Rind, B., & Bordia, P. (1995). Effect of server’s
“thank you” and personalization on restaurant
tipping. Journal of Applied Social Psychology,
25, 745-751.
Freedman, J. L., & Fraser, S. C. (1966). Compliance
without pressure: The foot-in-the-door technique.
Journal of Personality and Social Psychology,
4, 195-202.
Rind, B., & Bordia, P. (1996). Effect on restaurant
tipping of male and female servers drawing a
happy smiling face on the backs of customers’
checks. Journal of Applied Social Psychology,
26, 218-225.
Golish, T. D. (1999). Students’ use of compliance
gaining strategies with graduate teaching
assistants: Examining the other end of the power
spectrum. Communication Quarterly, 47, 1232.
Rind, B., & Strohmetz, D. (1999). Effect on
restaurant tipping of a helpful message written on
the back of customers’ checks. Journal of Applied
Social Psychology, 29, 139-144.
Harter, L. M., Scott, J. A., Novak, D. R.,
Leeman, M., & Morris, J. F. (2006). Freedom
through flight: Performing a counter-narrative
of disability. Journal of Applied Communication
Research, 34, 3-29.
Rind, B., & Strohmetz, D. (2001). Effect on
restaurant tipping of presenting customers with
an interesting task and of reciprocity. Journal of
Applied Social Psychology, 31, 1379-1384.
Seiter, J. S., & Gass, R. H. (2005). The effect of
patriotic messages on restaurant tipping. Journal
of Applied Social Psychology, 35, 1197-1205.
Hickson, M., III. (1974). Participant-observation
technique in organizational communication
research. The Journal of Business Communication,
11(3), 37-54.
Shuter, R. (1975). The promise of participant
observation research. Journal of Applied
Communications Research, 3(2), 1-7.
Marwell, G., & Schmitt, D. R. (1967). Dimensions
of compliance-gaining behavior: An empirical
analysis. Sociometry, 30, 350-364.
Smith, F. L., & Keyton, J. (2001). Organizational
storytelling: Metaphors for relational power and
identity goals. Management Communication
Quarterly, 15, 149-192.
Miles, M. B., & Huberman, A. M. (1994).
Qualitative data analysis: An expanded sourcebook
(2nd ed.). Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage.
Tellis, W. (1997). Introduction to case study. The
Qualitative Report, 3, 1-14.
Miller, G., Boster, F., Roloff, M., & Seibold, D.
(1977). Compliance-gaining message strategies:
A typology and some findings concerning effects
of situational differences. Communication
Monographs, 44, 37-51.
Wrench, J. S., & Booth-Butterfield, M. (2003).
Increasing patient satisfaction and compliance:
An examination of physician humor orientation,
compliance-gaining strategies, and perceived
credibility. Communication Quarterly, 51, 482503.
Myers, K. K. (2005). A burning desire.
Management Communication Quarterly, 18,
41
Compliance Gaining
Yin, R. K. (1994). Case study research: Design
and methods (2nd ed.). Thousand Oaks, CA:
Sage.
Appendix
Interview Guide for Servers’ Interviews
1. How long have you been in your current
position at Café?
2. How long have you been an employee of
Café’s parent corporation?
3. What methods do you use to persuade
customers?
4. Look back at your successful guest checks
from today’s shift. Which methods were the
most effective and why?
5. Looking back at your failed guest checks,
which methods were least effective and
why?
6. What do other employees do to try to sell to
customers?
7. Is there anything else I should know about
persuading customers that did not come out
in this interview? (Clearinghouse probe)
42
“You’re Gonna Make It After All”:
Changing cultural norms as described
in the lyrics of sitcom theme songs,
1970-2001
Pages 43-57
Katherine A. Foss
Television both shapes and reflects American culture; therefore, examining television programs
from a specific era teaches us about the cultural context of that time. This study examined television theme songs as a means for exploring how cultural norms in American society have shifted
over the last thirty years. Specifically, this study conducted a discourse analysis on 47 television
sitcom theme songs from programs first aired between 1970 to 2001 to explore how American
values have changed in conjunction with the political, economic, and social context. Findings
indicate that several societal shifts in values have occurred over the last thirty years. Discourses
in 1970s theme songs encouraged independence and empowerment, whereas songs from the 1980s
reinforced traditional values—a theme that reemerges in songs of the 2000s. Overall, results suggest that values conveyed in television theme songs generally reflect the identified values perpetuated in society at the time of the show’s creation. This study demonstrates that lyrics of television
theme songs reflect and reinforce societal shifts, thereby providing insight into existing work on
the relationship between media products and American culture.
I
n 1995, the Rembrandts’ recording of
the theme from the television program
Friends, ranked number one on the
Billboard magazine “Hot 100 Airplay” chart for
eight weeks (“Hot 100 Airplay,” 1995), suggesting
the extent to which fans of television programs
become attached to their theme songs. Television
theme songs introduce the television program,
providing physical or emotional background for
the program itself. A study of theme songs and
memory indicated that a television theme song
prompts people to recall characters and storylines
of a particular program (Reifer, Kevari, & Kramer,
1995). Along with facts about the program, these
songs also triggered subjects to talk about the time
period in which the show aired, prompting them
to discuss important political and historical events
of the era (Reifer, Kevari, & Kramer, 1995).
Television programs have been examined as a
means for studying dominant values in American
society (e.g., Larson & Bailey, 1980; Chesebro,
2003). It is assumed here that television discourse
can reflect and shape prevalent values and ideas in
society. Because discourse is socially produced,
John Fiske (1987) argued, it “works ideologically
to naturalize those meanings [of society] into
common sense” (p.14). Studying media products,
or what Diana Crane (1994) called “recorded
culture,” can help illuminate the “naturalized
meanings” of a particular culture. With the
current research then, studying the discourse of
television theme songs can provide insight into
the social context in which they were created
(Fiske, 1987).
Values conveyed through television can
reinforce or shape audience perception of what is
considered “normal” or conventional in society.
According to cultivation theory, first articulated
by George Gerbner and colleagues in the 1970s,
heavy television viewers tend to perceive the
world as it is presented in television (Gerbner &
Katherine Foss is an Assistant Professor in the
department of Journalism at Middle Tennessee
State University. She recently graduated from the
school of journalism and mass communication at
the University of Minnesota with a PhD.
43
Volume 5: 2008
Gross, 1976). Scholars have noted a cultivation
effect between television viewing and perceptions
of what is considered “conventional.” For
example, at a time in which television featured
many non-traditional families in the 1990s, heavy
television viewers were more likely supportive of
non-traditional families than those who watched
fewer hours of television (Morgan, Leggett,
& Shanahan, 1999). Moreover, this research
suggests that when television promotes traditional
roles, television viewers will perceive these roles
as “normal.”
historical moments by promoting or rejecting
dominant social and political ideologies. This
essay will, first, provide a contextual background
for studying television theme songs. Then, an
overview of the method used will be provided.
Finally, the significant findings of the research
will be discussed.
Historical Background of
Contemporary Sitcoms
The genre of sitcoms has been a staple of
television since the 1950s with programs like
I Love Lucy and The Life of Riley (Brown,
1992; Lackmann, 2003). Comedy provides a
good vehicle for exploring values for it often
works by putting into play cultural norms and
power relations. We would expect then to find
a relationship between the program themes
and the period values. We begin the search for
that relationship by considering the scholarly
descriptions of the three decades in this study.
In addition to serving as a tool for exploring
values conveyed by television at a specific moment,
discourse can be useful for identifying change in
a society. Because transformations are evident
in ideologies, television discourse “presents us
daily with a constantly up-dated version of social
relations and cultural perceptions” (Fiske &
Hartley, 1978, p.18). While research has shown
that television programming can be useful for
examining American values, television theme
songs have not been studied (Larson & Bailey,
1980; Chesebro, 2003). Television theme songs
are created to capture the “feeling” of a show.
Studying them, then, conveys a synthesized
message of the television show itself. Examining
theme songs from different decades then, can
provide insight into how value systems shifted
with the vastly changing political, economic, and
social landscapes.
The 1970s
Scholars have suggested that the 1970s
marked a unique period in American history.
During this time, people faced significant cultural
changes as they experienced the aftermath of
the 1960s civil rights movements, which had
transformed the social and political realm (Bailey
& Farber, 2004). Beth Bailey and David Farber
(2004) describe the 1970s as a decade full of
“reconfigurations of identity,” during which
“Americans tried to make sense of a new social
landscape” in which race, gender, sexuality, and,
to some extent, class presented fewer barriers to
advancement than in previous decades (p. 4-5).
Women and people of color gained unprecedented
economic advancement, experiencing promotions
in the workforce and financial assistance with
higher education (Berry, 1993; Shaw et al, 1993).
Along with gender and race, equal rights for
sexual preference also became a more prominent
issue within the public arena (Bailey & Farber,
2004).
The present study develops the argument
that theme songs are a product of the historical,
political, and social events that defined the era
of their appearance and examines television
theme songs for the messages that these songs
convey. It provides a look into the underlying
cultural norms that dominated during the time in
which the television programs were created and
how such messages have changed over time. A
discourse analysis was conducted on the theme
songs of 47 television sitcoms that first aired
from 1970 through 2001 to provide insight into
how television products reflect and reinforce their
44
“You’re Gonna Make It After All”
Besides progress towards equal rights, the
1970s are also remembered for economic crisis.
Contrary to the U.S. economic boom of previous
decades, low economic growth and high inflation
caused elevated unemployment rates and market
prices (Bailey & Farber, 2004). Growing conflicts
with Iran, a major source of United States oil,
also caused skyrocketing fuel prices (Bailey &
Farber, 2004).
losses after advertisers pulled their commercial
spots (Montgomery, 1989).
As opposed to earlier sitcoms that took place
in a suburban home, like I Love Lucy, My Three
Sons, and Bewitched, many 1970s television
programs were set in a work environment,
such as The Mary Tyler Moore Show, Taxi, and
Barney Miller (Taylor, 1989). Even sitcoms set
in the home did not depict the happy traditional
nuclear family seen in programs such as the 1950s
programs Leave it to Beaver and Make Room
For Daddy (Feuer, 1995). Instead, families in
1970s television sitcoms faced divorce and other
serious conflicts (Taylor, 1989). Some of these
“fractured” family shows included The Odd
Couple, which focused on two divorced men,
and One Day at a Time, about a divorced woman
raising two daughters (Taylor, 1989). During the
1970s, the first television programs that featured
African American families appeared with sitcoms
like The Jeffersons, Sanford and Son, and Good
Times. Yet, even with these programs, television
still grossly underrepresented people of color.
The 1960s social movements, together with
economic difficulties due to “stagflation” (high
inflation without economic growth) in the 1970s,
created a distinctive cultural climate, meaning
that some social groups had new opportunities,
yet society as a whole faced economic problems.
Many scholars have classified the 1970s as the
“me-decade,” suggesting that many people
focused on individual pleasure, experimenting
with drugs, sex, and music (Taylor, 1989, p.16;
Feuer, 1989, p. 4). Ella Taylor attributes this label
to the “sense of social isolation and disembodied
individualism” apparent in popular culture of the
time (1989, p.16). This unbridled individualism
has also been called the “You Can Have It All”
time (Crotty, 1995, p.5).
Sitcoms in the 1970s offered greater diversity
in terms of storylines and roles than in earlier
programs. Yet not all storylines in these programs
tackled controversial issues. Many episodes
focused on outlandish situations resolved
in thirty minutes—a characteristic of earlier
sitcoms (Taylor, 1989). And, despite expanded
roles for women and people of color, characters
in television continued to reinforce cultural
stereotypes. Bonnie Dow (1996) explains that
although The Mary Tyler Moore Show featured
a single woman in the workplace, as opposed to
in a domestic setting, “within her family of coworkers Mary functions in the recognizable roles
of idealized mother, wife, and daughter” (1996,
p.40). And although it was groundbreaking for
1970s sitcoms to feature predominantly African
American casts, scholars have criticized these
programs for their negative portrayals of people
of color (Bodroghkozy, 2003).
For the most part, television sitcoms did
not celebrate individual pleasure of the 1970s.
Rather, 1970s programs began to address much
of the conflict that happened in the previous
decade. Many sitcoms of the 1970s were
“socially conscious,” tackling difficult issues
concerning race, gender, and generation gaps
(Feuer, 1995; Taylor, 1989). The storylines of
sitcoms addressed controversial political and
social issues—subjects virtually absent from
earlier television shows (Castleman & Podrazik,
2003). In the nine-year run of All in the Family,
for example, this program talked about breast
cancer, miscarriage, rape, the Vietnam War, and
hate crimes. In 1972, the program Maude made
television history when its main character, Maude,
chose to have an abortion (Montgomery, 1989).
For this storyline, CBS and Maude producer
Norman Lear faced public scrutiny and financial
45
Volume 5: 2008
(Feuer, 1995). These sitcoms focused on lavish
materialism, equality between men and women,
and the importance of work as central to life
(Feuer, 1995). Feuer argues that these portrayals
of the yuppie lifestyle in television specifically
targeted an audience with superfluous income,
although these portrayals were popular with a
mass audience.
The 1980s
In the 1980s, backlash to many of the equal
rights struggles of previous decades became more
prominent in the political arena and on television.
To combat gains of the civil rights movements,
conservatives in the 1980s advocated a return
to traditional family structures (Stacey, 1998).
Along with promoting traditional families, the
Reagan administration attempted to remedy the
“stagflation” problem created in the 1970s, by
reducing the national budget, eliminating welfare,
and deregulating business practices (Schulman,
2001).
Social, political, and economic change
occurred in the 1990s, much of which corresponded
with progress made in the 1970s. As opposed to
the Republican administrations of the previous
decade, the Clinton administration attempted to
extend civil rights to new groups of people. This
administration discouraged racial and sexual
discrimination, appointed the first openly gay
and lesbian people to government positions, and
supported the Supreme Court’s decision to extend
protection from the American Disabilities Act to
people living with HIV/AIDS (Wanzo, 2003).
Reagan’s economic policies, along with
the popularization of the “yuppie,” and the
democratization of credit made unbridled
spending fashionable and possible. Leaders in
popular culture capitalized on the appeal of the
yuppie, producing music, film, and television that
celebrated materialism. Madonna’s popular song,
“Material Girl,” Motley Crue’s album Decade of
Decadence, and films like The Big Chill (1983)
exemplify the overindulgence of the decade.
Because of the economic situation in the 1980s,
many scholars have characterized this time as the
“Decade of Greed” (McKenzie, 1992, p.1).
During the early 1990s, a recession gave way
to economic prosperity. Budget cuts and tax
increases for the wealthy helped to significantly
improve the American economy (Brinkley, 2000).
Trade agreements, like the North American Free
Trade Agreement (NAFTA), also encouraged a
strong economy, by promoting global exchange,
which lowered the price of goods and provided a
larger selection of wares (Oxoby, 2003).
In the l980s, television programs generally
followed the political return to traditional family
values. Although many 1980s sitcoms featured
fractured or reconstituted families, such as the
two divorced mothers in Kate & Allie, these
programs focused on the light-hearted tribulations
of growing up, showcasing an “idealized family
life” and did not address the controversial issues
that had surfaced in 1970s shows (Taylor, 1989).
As opposed to politically driven shows like All
in the Family, sitcoms in the 1980s became more
“escapist” and were often criticized for being
“mindless” (Feuer, 1995, p.124).
Sitcoms that focused on urban couples, like
Mad About You, Seinfeld, and Friends, flourished
throughout the 1990s (Feuer, 1995). With the
rise of yuppie sitcoms, programs featuring
suburban nuclear families lost popularity. The
few programs centered on families (as opposed
to childless urban couples) were typically run
by single parents, usually mothers, like Grace
Under Fire and Cybill (Spangler, 2003). Unlike
shows of the 1980s, which often idealized
family life, these shows depicted the struggles
of parenthood, particularly single-parenthood
(Spangler, 2003).
The 1990s
In the early 1990s, yuppie shows, which
featured childless couples in an urban setting,
began to replace the nuclear family sitcoms
46
Television content in the 1990s was more
diverse than in previous decades. During this
time, the issue of sexual orientation was brought
to prime time, first appearing in the storylines of
the television program Ellen, Friends and other
sitcoms (Spangler, 2003). In the late 1990s, the
sitcom Will & Grace debuted, which featured
two openly gay characters. This program became
immensely popular, suggesting an increasing
acceptance of homosexuals on television
(Spangler, 2003). Television content in the
1990s also became more racially diverse. With
the creation of the WB and UPN networks, a
number of television programs targeted at African
Americans were developed, like The Jamie Foxx
Show, Girlfriends, and Malcolm and Eddie, all
of which featured African American characters
(Spangler, 2003). In addition to these shows,
sitcoms on other networks also revolved around
African American families, including Hangin’
with Mr. Cooper and The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air
(Spangler, 2003).
even with the prevalence of this genre, the high
ratings of the programs of the early 2000s, such
as Friends, Will & Grace, and Scrubs indicated
that sitcoms remained popular on television
(Brunner, 2003). And, with syndication on
cable channels like TVLand and the expanding
market of television on DVDs, older programs
(and their theme songs) continued to influence
contemporary audiences (Brunner, 2003).
Method
This study examined the messages of
American television theme songs to demonstrate
how cultural norms have shifted over time.
Specifically, this research aimed to answer the
following questions:
1. What are identifiable discourses in
television theme songs?
2. Is ideological change visible from the
1970s through 2001?
To explore these questions, a discourse analysis
was conducted of 47 television theme songs from
prime-time television sitcoms, thirty-minutes in
length, with at least a four-year run starting during
In the early 2000s, “reality” television became
popular with programs like Survivor and Amazing
Race (Lackmann, 2003). At the same time,
Television Program Theme Songs analyzed: 1970--2001
Program
Years aired Program
Years aired Program
Mary Tyler Moore
1970-1977
Cheers
1982-1993
Step by Step
The Partridge Family 1970-1974
Family Ties
1982-1989
Hangin’ with Mr. Cooper
All in the Family
1971-1979
Silver Spoons
1982-1987
Mad About You
Maude
1972-1978
Webster
1983-1989
Dave’s World
Welcome Back, Kotter 1973-1979
Who’s the Boss?
1984-1992
Grace Under Fire
Good Times
1974-1979
Punky Brewster
1984-1988
Friends
Happy Days
1974-1984
227
1985-1990
Sister, Sister
The Jeffersons
1975-1985
Golden Girls
1985-1992
The Drew Carey Show
One Day at a Time
1975-1984
Growing Pains
1985-1992
Unhappily Ever After
Alice
1976-1985
Mr. Belvedere
1985-1990
Moesha
Laverne & Shirley
1976-1983
The Hogan Family
1986-1991
That 70s Show
Diffr’nt Strokes
1978-1986
Perfect Strangers
1986-1993
Ed
Three’s Company
1977-1984
Different World
1987-1993
Reba
WKRP in Cincinatti 1978-1982
Full House
1987-1995
Scrubs
Facts of Life
1979-1988
Married with Children 1987-1997
Empty Nest
1988-1995
Wonder Years
1988-1993
Family Matters
1989-1998
47
Years aired
1991-1998
1992-1997
1992-1999
1993-1997
1993-1998
1994-2004
1994-1999
1995-2004
1995-1999
1996-2001
1998-2006
2000-2004
2001-2007
2001-present
Volume 5: 2008
the years 1970 to 2001 (see table 1 for the list of
programs). Kress (1985) explains that “Social
institutions produce specific ways or modes of
talking about certain areas of social life, which are
related to the place and nature of that institution”
(p.28). Discourse analysis, then, looks at these
“modes of talking,” in, as Fairclough argues, “an
attempt to show systematic links between texts,
discourse practices, and sociocultural practices”
(1995, p.16-17).
is beyond the scope of this research to explore
visuals and instrumentals.
This study aimed to identify what cultural
norms television theme songs reinforced and
how the definition of cultural norms has changed
over time. Cultural norms were identified by the
language used in the theme songs. For example,
the theme song from 227 begins, “There’s no place
like home. With your family around you you’re
never alone.” Since these lyrics emphasize the
importance of family and home life, this theme
song idealizes a strong family life, which is not
surprising in that this program aired in the 1980s
when political and social ideology emphasized
the “traditional” American family.
Only television shows appearing during the
prime-time evening hours (those that started
between 7:00 and 9:00 p.m. central time) were
chosen for this study because these shows
generally have the highest viewership (Campbell
et al, 2005). Sitcoms (or situation comedies) have
also historically targeted a broad audience and
have been a dominant genre for family viewing,
therefore, they have mass appeal. This genre has
also been immensely popular, ranking steadily in
the Nielsen ratings Top Ten from the beginning of
television to contemporary times (Campbell et al.,
2005). For example, in 1952, the sitcom I Love
Lucy was the top-rated program of the season
(Lackmann, 2003). In 1972, the sitcom All in the
Family ranked number one (Lackmann, 2003).
Twenty years later, in 1992, six of the top-rated
ten programs were sitcoms (Lackmann, 2003).
Findings
Forty-seven television theme songs were
examined to determine what cultural norms these
songs presented and/or reinforced. Certain themes
crossed the three decades of this study and others
were specific to their time. Themes identified
in multiple decades will first be discussed. The
prominent themes for each decade will then be
addressed.
One theme was identified in all of the decades:
The human need for companionship. This theme
celebrates the importance of friendship. For
example, The theme from Happy Days suggests
that the joy of life is sharing it with a friend,
with lyrics such as “These days are ours, happy
and free. . . . These days are ours, share them
with me” (McClain & Pratt, 1974). This need
for companionship is often emphasized by a
description of what life would be like without a
friend. The theme from Perfect Strangers states,
“a long lost friend gives every dark street a light
at the end,” suggesting that without friends, life
is gloomy (Boren et al, 1986). The theme from
Friends also describes life as miserable, but
tolerable as long as one has good companions.
This song begins, “So no one told you life was
gonna be this way. Your job’s a joke, you’re
broke, your love life’s D.O.A.” (Skloff & Willis,
Literature reviewed, along with a preliminary
survey of the remaining television theme
songs, suggested three types: “musical (no
lyrics),” “narrative (describing the premise of
the program),” and “lyrical (expressive).” Only
lyrical theme songs were examined. Because
this type of theme song provides the “feeling”
or “mood” of the show, it was assumed that this
type would be an appropriate tool for examining
values. The music accompanying the lyrics,
visuals appearing during the song, and content
of the show itself, all of which likely influenced
the audience, were not studied. Although these
elements play an important role in understanding
the television program, this study focuses on the
language of television theme songs, therefore it
48
1994). This theme continues with, “But, I’ll be
there for you” suggesting that with support, life’s
misfortunes are manageable (Skloff & Willis,
1994). The identification of this theme in all of
the decades studied highlights the nature of being
human. It also suggests that although sitcoms
have varied over time, one staple of the genre is
the idea of camaraderie.
strong women, the song adds, “And then there’s
Maude” (Grusin, 1972). The connection between
Maude and these women suggests that she, too,
can achieve anything. And, by linking what is
seemingly an “average” woman to these great
women, it is implied that all women can succeed.
These songs are empowering in that they suggest
that any woman can overcome obstacles if she
believes in herself. These themes of female
empowerment reflect the emphasis of female
agency prominent in the social discourse of the
1960s and 1970s, which celebrated the unlimited
potential of women, with popular songs like “I
am Woman. Hear me roar!”
1970s themes and Individual Empowerment
Theme songs of 1970s television programs
promote values of individualism, human agency
and the need for societal change. These lyrics
perpetuate myths of the “American Dream,” the
belief that anyone can succeed if one believes in
him/herself. The “American Dream” referred to
in this paper does not wholly embody the ideas
perpetuated in the 1950s. Instead, this research
expands the myths of “The American Dream”
(the belief that, traditionally, any (white) man can
ascend the social ladder and attain property) to
include non-white people and women (Samuel,
2001). For example, throughout the theme from
Laverne & Shirley, the message is conveyed
that one has control of his/her destiny, with
phrases like, “We’re gonna make our dreams
come true,” and “Gotta dream and we just know
now, we’re gonna make that dream come true”
(Fox, 1976). The power of human agency is
emphasized; that is, the notion that people can
achieve any goal if they believe in themselves.
The Laverne & Shirley theme expresses a feeling
of empowerment, stating, “This time there’s no
stopping us. We’re gonna do it” (Fox, 1976).
In Mary Tyler Moore, the theme declares, “You
can have the town, why don’t you take it. You’re
gonna make it after all”(Curtis, 1970). One
theme song conveys the message that women in
particular, can achieve anything. The theme song
from Maude chronicles a few of the historical
accomplishments of women, declaring, “Isadora
was the first bra burner and you’re glad she
showed up. And when the country was falling
apart, Betsy Ross got it all sewed up” (Grusin,
1972). After describing the accomplishments of
As part of this discourse of female agency,
theme songs of the 1970s also refer to the
possibility of rising above one’s traditional
“place” in society. The theme from Alice openly
rejects traditionally female roles, describing
one woman’s success at rising above a difficult
situation. It states:
Early to rise, early to bed.
In and between I cooked and cleaned and went
out of my head.
Going through life with blinders on, it’s tough
to see.
I had to get up, get out from under and look
for me.
There’s a new girl in town and she’s looking
good.
There’s a fresh freckled face, in the
neighborhood.
There’s a new girl in town, with a brand new
style.
She was just passing through,
but if things work out she’s gonna stay
awhile.
ba ba bum bum bummmm (Shire, 1976).
49
Volume 5: 2008
Alice’s expressed desire and ability to
shirk her traditional female role and gain her
independence demonstrates that it is possible
and desirable. And yet, like Mary Tyler Moore,
even though Alice is a restaurant owner, she still
performs many traditionally female duties, such
as serving coffee and waiting on customers. This
program reflected and reinforces the conflicting
cultural norms of the 1970s in that the role of
women is redefined, but yet is still reminiscent of
the traditional role of women. This negotiation
between tradition and progress likely helped make
this program and others more appealing to a mass
audience in that people could accept new roles for
women as long as they kept their femininity.
roles, as indicated by, “And you knew who you
were then. Girls were girls and men were men.
Those were the days” (Strouse, 1971). Instead
of applauding progressive changes, this song
calls for a return to tradition. This theme also
likely reflects feelings of an older generation
in the 1970s, in that not everyone was open to
the abundant changes that occurred during this
time. The clashes between Archie and Edith,
the older couple on the program, and Mike and
Gloria (the younger couple) reflected much of the
intergenerational conflict of this time.
The messages conveyed in the television
theme songs of the late 1970s and the early
1980s are mixed in terms of empowerment and
traditionalism. A few themes from the decades
emphasize the values of independence and agency.
The theme from Different World, encourages
people to strive to attain one’s dreams, stating,
“If we focus on our goals,” then “we” have a
“chance to make it,” implying that achieving
dreams requires agency of the individual (Cosby
et al., 1987). The theme from Perfect Strangers
also promotes individual action, declaring that
“No matter what the odds are this time, nothing’s
going to stand in my way” (Boren et al, 1986).
The theme from The Jeffersons discusses
the ability to ascend one’s socioeconomic class.
This song details the family’s change in position,
stating “Movin’ on up, to the East side. We finally
got a piece of the pie” (Barry & Dubois, 1975).
The theme from The Jeffersons also refers to
the difficulty of attaining success, stating, “Took
a whole lotta tryin,’ just to get up that hill. Now
we’re in the big leagues, getting’ our turn at
bat” (Barry & Dubois, 1975). According to
The Jeffersons’ theme song, this success means
unfortunate events that occurred in poverty are
no longer a problem, in that “Fish don’t fry
in the kitchen; beans don’t burn on the grill”
(Barry & Dubois, 1975). This theme suggests,
then, that wealth is equated with leisure and an
easier life. More importantly, the theme of The
Jeffersons describes new opportunities for this
African American family. At a time in which
people of color were gaining civil rights and new
opportunities in employment and education, this
theme, and the Jefferson family’s rise in social
class reflects and, at least, perpetuates an illusion
of racial equality.
The ability to transcend class, suggested in
the theme of The Jeffersons, also appears in the
theme song of Mr. Belvedere. This theme song
emphasizes the importance of success, stating,
“Life is more than mere survival. We just
might live the good life yet” (Hart-Angelo &
Portnoy, 1985). As opposed to the life of leisure
associated with wealth in The Jeffersons’ theme,
the theme from Mr. Belvedere equates newfound
wealth with additional work by describing how
ascending in socio-economic class means giving
up a previous lifestyle of nonchalance for one of
uptight cleanliness. Before the family became
wealthy, for example, “Streaks on the china,
never mattered before, who cares. When you
dropped kicked your jacket as you came through
the door, no one glared” (Hart-Angelo & Portnoy,
1985). The word “before” implies that now,
One exception to the feelings of empowerment
and non-traditional values of the 1970s is evident
in the theme song of All in the Family. This
song reminisces about a simpler time, when
people more rigidly adhered to traditional gender
50
with the “new” life, it does matter. Fortunately,
with success, one can afford to hire someone to
assist the burden of new chores. The statement,
“Gonna need all the help that we can get,” along
with the mentioning of a “new arrival” implies
that hired help will ease the extra work created by
an ascension in status (Hart-Angelo & Portnoy,
1985).
these values prevail. According to the Full House
theme, the world may not be traditional, but, at
home, with family, “there’s a heart, a hand to hold
onto” (Franklin et al, 1987). Likewise, the Family
Matters’ theme states that “there must be some
magic clue inside these tearful walls,” which
protects the traditional family from the outside
world (Frederick & Salvay, 1989).
1980s themes and a Return to
“Traditional” Values
Overall, values in television theme songs
dramatically shifted in the 1980s, moving from
focusing on independence to promoting the
importance of home, family, and tradition. Most
messages in 1980s theme songs convey that the
world is a dark and frightening place without a
family, and that family helps people resolve life’s
troubles and keeps them from feeling lonely. The
title song of the program Family Ties explains that
a family can overcome any obstacle, claiming,
“There ain’t nothing we can’t love each other
through” (Barry & Scott, 1982). The theme
from Growing Pains shares a similar sentiment,
declaring that, “Rain or shine, all the time. We
got each other, sharin’ the laughter and love”
(Dorff, 1985).
In several television theme songs, home
is referred to as place of comfort and love—a
haven within a harsh world. The theme from 227
declares, “There’s no place like home. With your
family around you, you’re never alone. You don’t
need to roam ‘cause there’s no place like home”
(Colcord, 1985). Family Matters also contains a
theme centered on home and the family, declaring,
“There must be some magic clue inside these
tearful walls, cause all I see is a tower of dreams,
real love burstin’ out of every seam” (Frederick &
Salvay, 1989). The Full House theme expresses
a similar sentiment about home, stating, “When
you’re lost out there and you’re all alone, a
light is waiting to carry you home” (Franklin et
al, 1987). This characterizes home as a loving
refuge from the outside world. This promotion
of traditionalism and family life apparent on
television is not surprising at a time when society
faced a social and political backlash to the civil
rights movement in the 1980s. As politicians and
social groups pushed for a return to the traditional
family, as a backlash to the civil rights efforts of
the previous decade, television also encouraged
these traditional values by modeling the ideal
family, as described in their theme songs.
Along with family and home, tradition itself is
embraced, expressing a nostalgic desire to return
to “simpler times.” Themes from Full House and
Family Matters emphasize the importance of the
values of an earlier era—a time that centered on
routine and family. The theme from Full House
asks, “Whatever happened to predictability? The
milkman, the paperboy, evening TV” (Franklin
et al, 1987). A similar theme exists in the Family
Matters’ title song, which declares, “It’s a rare
condition, this day and age, to read any good news
on the newspaper page. Love and tradition of the
grand design, some people say it’s even harder to
find” (Frederick & Salvay, 1989). 1990s themes and Friends as Family
In the 1990s, theme songs radically shifted
from promoting traditionalism and family to
emphasizing the role of friends in one’s life,
as exemplified in the theme songs of Friends,
Moesha, Mad About You, and Dave’s World. This
change was likely prompted by the newfound
social emphasis on young, urban professionals.
For these yuppies, who were stereotyped as
The next section of these themes, however,
indicates that while traditional family values may
not persist in the outside world, within the home,
51
Volume 5: 2008
childless couples in large urban areas, friends
replaced a person’s biological family. The theme
from Friends states:
biological one. With the rising divorce rates in
the 1990s, this program reflects the increase in
blended families during this time. These themes
also reflect the changing social climate—a time
in which feminist and other progressive values
again became prominent. Like theme songs of the
1970s, 1990s theme songs suggest a negotiation
of tradition and progress. Here, the family is
the focus of the song. Yet, the family life is
uncertain, not idealized, and the family has been
redefined.
So no one told you life was gonna be this
way
Your job’s a joke, you’re broke, your love
life’s D.O.A
It’s like you’re always stuck in second gear
When it hasn’t been your day, your week,
your month, or even your year
2000s themes and Satirizing Television
At the turn of the century, television theme
songs offer mixed messages. On one hand, the
theme song of Reba discusses the struggles of
a single mother, stating “A single mom, who
works two jobs. . . . I’m a survivor” (Kennedy
& White, 2001). This woman’s description of
her difficult life as a single mother reinforces
traditional family structure by emphasizing
the obstacles created when this formula is not
followed. Besides this theme song, however, no
other distinct values were identified. The theme
from Malcolm in the Middle begins with, “Yes.
No. Maybe. I don’t know. Can you repeat the
question? You’re not the boss of me now,” which
could perhaps be construed as empowering, but is
not as clear as 1970s discourses of individualism.
Likewise, the theme from Scrubs, which states,
“But I can’t do this all on my own. No I know. I’m
no superman,” could possibly be considered as an
antithesis to 1970s independence, but a throwback
to the 1990s. Yet, especially because this line is
the entirety of the song, it is not evident if this is
a dominant message conveyed by the television
program. Perhaps the values of these themes
are unclear because these television programs
satirize cultural conventions of the traditional
television. Malcolm in the Middle features a
dysfunctional American family, offering parodies
of the roles of the traditional family. For example,
the children on the show never listen to their
parents and often discuss how they are unhappy.
For this program then, the theme song perhaps
But . . . I’ll be there for you (Skloff &
Willis1994).
This song does not suggest that a person
should go home or turn to family for comfort.
Instead, people are encouraged to turn to their
friends when they need help. The theme from
Hangin’ with Mr. Cooper emphasizes the joy of
friendship:
Hangin’ with my man is such a high
(Cooper).
Well, it’s good to have a friend in both our
lives (Cooper).
Count it out. Here we go. Here we go (Chesne,
1992).
A few theme songs suggested the importance
of family. However, these families differed from
the traditional nuclear families apparent in the
1980s. The third verse of the theme from Step
by Step describes the family:
We got the woman and man
We got the kids in a clan
Only time will tell
If all these dreams fit under one umbrella
(Frederick & Salvay, 1991).
Unlike theme songs of the 1980s, this song
does not assume that family life is perfect.
Instead the word, “Only time will tell,” implies
that the future of the family is uncertain. Also,
this program is about a blended family, not a
52
suggests children’s defiance, rather than an adult’s
empowerment (as seen in the 1970s). The theme
of the dysfunctional family reflects the rising rate
of single parents in the 2000s (“Teen Birth Rate,”
2007). Likewise, Scrubs also criticizes American
conventions, specifically by parodying traditional
medical shows. Therefore, in stating “I’m no
superman,” the theme song is likely referring
to an era in television in which doctors were
routinely portrayed as heroes. The theme of the
imperfect doctor reflects the heightened attention
given to medical errors at this time (Harvard
School of Public Health, 2000; Kohn, Corrigan,
& Donaldson, 2000).
conventional television programming. The
declining economy of the 2000s and post-9/11
skepticism of American values and conventions
may explain why the ironic theme song became
popular. On the other hand, the pithy ironic theme
song may be reflective of production budget cuts
and fears of losing viewers. In recent years,
television programs have included much shorter
theme songs than earlier years or have eliminated
them altogether in order to keep a viewer’s
interest (“Here’s the story,” 2006).
Overall, it is important to study how value
systems can be perpetuated through television,
particularly through television theme songs,
which have been long overlooked. Because these
songs are remembered for years after a sitcom has
ended—as CD sales indicate—their messages
continue to impact audiences, and therefore need
to be considered as a significant cultural force
in reflecting and shaping values. By examining
media discourse, including television theme
songs, a culture’s “naturalized meanings,” such
as values, along with how those meanings have
changed, can be better understood.
Conclusion and Implications
for Further Research
This study explored how values are talked
about in the theme songs of television sitcoms
first aired from 1970 through 2001, looking at
how these values may have changed over time
in relation to changing historical context. This
research suggests that these songs generally
reinforce the dominant ideologies associated with
each decade. The results also indicate that values
did shift over time, reflecting a changing society.
Since it is assumed that values perpetuated on
television both reflect and reinforce dominant
ideology in society, this research gives insight into
how dominant ideologies change over time. This
research found that traditional values were often
reiterated in new ways. For example, the value
of the family emerged in the 1980s and then was
reiterated in the 1990s with blended families.
References
“Classic TV Store.” (2005). Classic TV Hits.
Available at: http://www.classictvhits.com/store/
cds
Bailey, B. & Farber, D. (2004). America in the
1970s. Lawrence, Kansas: University Press of
Kansas.
Barry, J. & Dubois, J. (1975). “Theme from The
Jeffersons.” Theme from The Jeffersons.
Findings indicate that each decade produces a
generally unique set of values. Recognizing that
these values shift with changes in cultural climate
illustrates the interaction between political and
societal context and culture. This research also
provides insight into changing trends in American
culture. Recent trends indicate a decline in theme
songs that convey specific values to the audience. Instead of conveying traditional values, the satiric
nature of contemporary theme songs critique
Barry, J. & Scott, T. (1982). “Theme from Family
Ties.” Theme from Family Ties.
Battles, K. & Hilton-Morrow, W. (2002). Gay
characters in conventional spaces: Will and Grace
and the situation comedy genre. Critical Studies
in Media Communication, 19(1), p. 87-105.
Berger, P.L. & Luckmann, T. (1966). Social
53
Volume 5: 2008
construction of reality: a treatise in the sociology
of knowledge. Garden City, New York: Doubleday
& Company, Inc.
theoretical perspectives (pp. 1-20). Oxford:
Blackwell.
Crotty, M. (1995). Murphy Would Probably Also
Win the Election—The Effect of Television as
Related to the Portrayal of the Family in Situation
Comedies. Journal of Popular Culture. 29(3),
p. 1-15.
Bodroghkozy, A. (2003). Good times in race
relations? CBS’s Good Times and the legacy of
civil rights in 1970s prime-time television. Screen
(44) 4, p. 404-428.
Boren, G., Chesne, S., Frederick, J. & Salvay, B.
(1986). “Theme from Perfect Strangers.” Theme
from Perfect Strangers.
Curtis, S. (1970). “Love Is All Around.” Theme
from The Mary Tyler Moore Show.
Dorff, S. (1985). “As long as we’ve got each
other.” Theme from Growing Pains.
Brinkley, D. (2000). Bill Clinton wins the White
House. In S. Kallen (Ed.) The 1990s (pp. 15-26).
San Diego, CA: Greenhaven Press, Inc.
Brown, D. (1993). “Theme from Grace Under
Fire.” Theme from Grace Under Fire.
Dow, B. (1996). Prime-Time Feminism:
Television, Media Culture, And the Women’s
Movement Since 1970. Philadelphia: University
of Pennsylvania Press.
Brown, L. (1992). Les Brown’s encyclopedia of
television. Detroit: Gale Research.
Farquhar, K. & Norwood, B. (1996). “Theme
from Moesha.” Theme from Moesha.
Brunner, B. (ed.). (2003). Time Almanac 2004.
Needham, MA: Pearson Education Company.
Feuer, J. (1995). Seeing Through the Eighties:
Television and Reaganism. Durham: Duke
University Press.
Burlingame, J. (1996). TV’s Biggest Hits: The
Story of Television Themes From “Dragnet” to
“Friends.” London: Schirmer Books.
Fiske, J. (1987). Television Culture. London:
Methuen.
Castleman, H. & Podrazik, W. (2003). Watching
TV: Six Decades of American Television. [2nd
Ed.]. Syracuse: Syracuse University Press.
Fiske, J. & Hartley, J. (1978). Reading Television.
London: Metheun & Co Ltd.
Fox, C. (1976). “Theme from Laverne & Shirley.”
Theme from Laverne & Shirley.
Chesebro, J. (2003). Communication, Values,
and Popular Television Series: A TwentyFive Year Assessment and Final Conclusions.
Communication Quarterly. 51(4), p. 367-418.
Francis, R. (2005). The History Behind the Equal
Rights Amendment. The Equal Rights Amendment.
Updated February 8, 2005. Available at http://
www.equalrightsamendment.org/era.htm
Chesne, S. (1992). Theme from Hangin’ with Mr.
Cooper. Theme from Hangin’ with Mr. Cooper.
Colcord, R. (1985). “Theme from 227.” Theme
from 227.
Franklin, J., Frederick, J. & Salvay, B. (1987).
“Everywhere you look.” Theme from Full
House.
Cosby, B., Gardner, S., & Lewis, D. (1987).
Theme from A Different World.
Frederick, J. & Salvay, B. (1989). “Theme from
Family Matters.” Theme from Family Matters.
Crane, D. (1994). Introduction: The challenge
of the sociology of culture to sociology as a
discipline. The sociology of culture: Emerging
Frederick, J. & Salvay, B. (1991). Second Time
Around. Theme from Step by Step.
54
Gerbner, G. & Gross L. (1976). Living with
television: The violence profile. Journal of
Communications, 26, 173-99.
Lennon, J. (1993). “Lady Madonna.” Original
theme from Grace Under Fire.
Killian, M. (2004, June 6). ‘Family Values’
President Put to Test by Own Home Life. Houston
Chronicles. Available at:http://www.chron.com/
cs/CDA/ssistory.mpl/reagan/2612413
Goldsman, M. (1994). Dan Quayle on Family
Values and the Cultural Elite. The Official
Internet Quayle Quote List. Updated March
18, 1994. Available at: http://www.xmission.
com/~mwalker/DQ/quayle/qq/fam.values.html
Lackmann, R. (2003). The encyclopedia of
American television: broadcast programming
post World War II to 2000. New York: Facts on
File, Inc.
Grusin, D. (1972). “And then there’s Maude.”
Theme from Maude.
Grusin, D. (1974). “Theme from Good Times.”
Theme from Good Times.
Larson, S. & Bailey, M. (1998). ‘ABC’s Person of
the Week’: American Values in Television News.
Journalism & Mass Communication Quarterly.
75(3), p. 487-500).
Hall, S.(1979). Culture, the Media. and the
‘ideological effect’ in James Curran, Michale
Gurevitch and Janet Woollacottt (eds.). Mass
communication and society. Beverly Hills: Sage,
315-48.
Marc, D. (1989). Comic Visions: Television
Comedy and American Culture. Boston: Unwin
Hyman.
Hart-Angelo, J. & Portnoy, G. (1985).
“According to our new arrivals.” Theme from
Mr. Belvedere.
McClain, J. & Pratt, T. (1974). “Theme from
Happy Days.” Theme from Happy Days.
Montgomery, K.C. (1989). Target: Prime
time: Advocacy groups and the struggle over
entertainment television. New York: Oxford
University Press.
Harvard School of Public Health. (2000). Survey
on Health Care and the 2000 Election. Kaiser
Family Foundation. Storrs: CT: Roper Center for
Public Opinion Research.
Morgan, M., Leggett, S., & Shanahan, J. (1999).
Television and Family Values: Was Dan Quayle
Right?. Mass Communication & Society. 2(1/2),
p.47-64.
Here’s the Story of the Dying TV Theme Song.
(2006). Entertainment/television. MSNBC. 23
October. Retrieved 30 June 2008 from http://
www.msnbc.msn.com/id/15320031
Oxoby, M. (2003). The 1990s. Westport,
Connecticut: Greenwood Press.
“Hot 100 Airplay.” (1995). Billboard magazine,
5 August.
Reifer, D.M., Kevari, M.K., & Kramer, D.L.F.
(1995). Name That Tune: Eliciting the Tip-ofthe-Tongue Experience Using Auditory Stimuli.
Psychological Reports, December.
Jeffords, S. (1993). Hard Bodies: Hollywood
Masculinity in the Reagan Era. New Brunswick,
New Jersey: Rutgers University Press.
Kennedy, S. & White, P. (2001). “I’m a Survivor
[Theme from Reba].” Theme from Reba.
Samuel, L. (2001). Brought to You by Postwar
Television Advertising. Austin: University of
Texas Press.
Kohn, L., Corrigan, J. & Donaldson, M. (Eds.).
(2000). To err is human: Building a safer health
system. Washington, D.C.: National Academy
Press.
Schulman, B. (2001). The Seventies. New York:
The Free Press.
55
Volume 5: 2008
Shaw, L., Champlin, D., Hartmann, H., & SpalterRoth, R. (1993). The Impact of Restructuring
and the Glass Ceiling on Minorities and Women.
U.S. Department of Labor, Glass Ceiling
Commission.
Van Heusen, J. (1987). “Love and Marriage.”
Theme from Married with Children.
Wanzo, C. (ed.). (2003). Bill Clinton on Civil
Rights. On the Issues: Every Political Leader
on Every Issue. Available at: h t t p : / / w w w .
issues2000.org/Celeb/Bill_Clinton_Civil_Rights.
htm
Shire, D. (1976). “Theme from Alice.” Theme
from Alice.
Skloff, M. & Willis, A. (1994). “I’ll be there for
you.” Theme from Friends.
Endnotes
1. “Yuppie” referred to young urban professionals
who were trendy, fickle, and had quantities
of disposable income (Schulman, 2001).
They were also called neoconservatives or
neoliberals, due to the combination of their
“fiscal conservatism” with their “relatively
liberal social values” (Feuer, 1995, p.44).
Spangler, L. (2003). Television Women From Lucy
to Friends: Fifty Years of Sitcoms and Feminism.
Westport, Connecticut: Praeger Publishers.
Stacey, J. (1998). Brave New Families: Stories
of Domestic Upheaval in Late-Twentieth-Century
America. Berkeley: University of California
Press.
2. For the purposes of this study, “change” is
defined as noticeable shift in values from
one of the determined year-increments to
the next.
Strouse, C. (1971). “Those were the Days.”
Theme from All in the Family.
Taylor, E. (1989). Prime-Time Families:
Television Culture in Postwar America. Berkeley:
University of California Press.
3. This study referenced Watching TV: Six
Decades of American Television and the
website, “Sitcoms Online” (2007),
Teen Birth Rate Rises for the First Time in 15
Years. (2007). Health statistics. Centers for
Disease Control and Prevention, December.
Retrieved 30 June 2008 from http://www.cdc.gov/
nchs/pressroom/07newsreleases/teenbirth.htm
56
Volume 5: 2008
Politics & Pedagogy Introduction
The journal’s former editor, Sara Mathis, devised this forum about politics and pedagogy. At a
time when media are saturated with campaign coverage, international policies are changing cultures,
and discussions of power are permeating much communication scholarship, this forum could not
be more appropriate. The pieces that we have in this forum go beyond asking if we ought to engage
politics in our classrooms as a theoretical concept, a timely example, or an expression of our identities.
Instead they attempt to critically engage the repercussions of doing so. All three essays draw from the
authors’ personal experiences to question aspects of teaching that teachers are sometimes reluctant
to explore openly. Gordon challenges our discipline’s approach talking about war in the classroom;
Hao examines the consequences of bringing identity into the classroom; and Mora engages student
course evaluations as a site of political contest.
57
Iraq in the Classroom?
It’s Already Here
Pages 58-64
Jeremy G. Gordon
“There’s a war goin on, so where y’all at?!”
– Chuck D, Public Enemy
ways to bring something as divisive as Iraq into
my classroom. I imagined leaving the panel with
new insight from leaders in the field, along with
enhanced purpose and conviction for teaching
about war and the boldness to continue an already
tendentious task. I arrived early anticipating
difficulty in finding an open seat. However, the
event that was sure to begin with a burst deflated
into a scrambled discussion that was witnessed
by only a handful of conference attendees.
C
huck D’s quote is a lyric from “Harder
Than You Think,” a track off Public
Enemy’s recently released, aptly titled
album “How Do You Sell Soul to a Soulless People
Who Sold Their Soul.” It is both a legitimate
question and a call to action. It immediately
came to mind when I decided to comment on how
war in the classroom was discussed last year at
the 2007 National Communication Association
conference in Chicago. I attended a special forum
titled “Faculty Advocacy in the Classroom: Town
Forum on Terrorism, Iraq, and the Politics of
Pedagogy.” The event centered around a panel
discussion addressing multiple topics, including
the balance of “scholarly rigor with the passions
of war time,” the role of political advocacy in the
classroom and campus, the line between “taking
a strong position and engaging in propaganda,”
and, finally, the “roles scholars play vis-à-vis the
national security state.”
My overall disappointment in the forum led
me to contemplate how Iraq, Afghanistan, and the
“War on Terror” have been addressed in academe,
ultimately resulting in this piece. The panel
experience left me contemplating how to shed
restrictions of the scholarly setting to examine the
question of how to bring Iraq into the classroom
within a more focused and relevant context.
The forum at NCA expanded discussion into the
threats posed to academic freedom by political
and corporate structures, but the topic left little
room for specific or vigorous deliberation about
conflict in class. This forum was billed as an NCA “spotlight”
event, was hyped in the conference program, held
in a grotesquely ornate ballroom, and required
a separate playbill. For all the build-up, one
would expect a substantial turnout of anxious
academics ready to engage in an electric topic.
As a third-year graduate student and adjunct
lecturer, I looked forward to learning innovative
Two items were noticeably absent from the
panel discussion. The first was instruction of
how to employ Iraq into a college classroom.
The second was any boisterous participation
by the majority of communication scholars in
attendance. As such, I considered the forum
incomplete. In the proceeding pages, I provide
a brief critique of the NCA forum followed by
a summary of my own experiences with Iraq
within the classroom setting, before leading to
more critical questions about the role graduate
teaching assistants might, or are taking, to bring
Iraq into the curriculum. I do not claim to be
an expert on the topics presented at the forum
or in this piece, but I do grasp the immediacy of
Jeremy G. Gordon served as an adjunct lecturer
in the Department of Journalism and Communication at Utah State University in Logan, Utah.
He is currently completing a master’s degree in
Communication and will be attending Indiana
University in the fall as a doctoral student in the
Department of Communication and Culture.
58
Volume 5: 2008
conflict and comprehend the resulting waves of
destruction. Beyond research, my obsession, yes
obsession, with peace and conflict will hopefully
provide an educated and timely stance on the
issue. This article ponders applying Iraq in a
classroom, but it is a combination of hopefulness
and desperation that leads me to emphatically
argue that war should be unquestionably included
in a curriculum whenever there is the slightest
connection to class material. The human,
monetary, cultural, and societal costs of the Iraq
War continue to rise with seemingly little notice,
and it is with these costs in mind that this forum
piece is written.
what the limits are, Professor Denzin argued that
a separation between corporation and democracy
is vital, as is the need to “reclaim the roots of
democracy.”
Professor Denzin’s outburst received my (and
my fellow graduate students’) vocal support.
Surely this accusation would incite a passionate
reaction. To my amazement, responses were
muted besides a shuffle at a table or a smile and
switch of leg over knee. Meanwhile, The place
was silent. Besides a few off-the-cuff remarks
from panel members and impromptu cheers
from students in the back of the room, there was
nothing. Where was the rage? To be honest,
I was somewhat taken aback. I was enraged
that the forum proceeded as it did and failed
to provide much detail about anything I could
apply in the classroom. But, where was the rage
from audience members? What about those
who brushed off the forum altogether? What
about rage from the general public, the campus
community, professors, and students? Without
some kind of passionate, yet prudent expression,
how does a panel dealing with Iraq serve as
a catalyst for action? Are we not fed up with
talking and asking? Why not expand the limits
of boisterous critique to press the issue? These
questions reflect some of the frustration I felt for
two hours. Essentially, rather than galvanizing
me to daring and spirited work in the classroom,
the forum seemed to be an already too common
cautionary tale about the dangers of going beyond
the political, corporate, and administrative limits
of academia and what to expect should you
choose to do so.
Besides the modest turnout at the forum,
what disappointed me the most was the lack of
focus on the matter at hand. Panel members
traded experiences in and outside of lecture halls,
outlined the current climate of intellectualism
within the university business model, and pointed
to the dangers of participating in advocacy and
education. Meanwhile, my impatience with the
“terms of the forum” began to peak. The focus
shifted many times, but hardly dealt specifically
with Iraq and terrorism. Panelists recalled
dangers of researching alternative perspectives
in broad terms. Professor Cloud shared “hate
mail lessons” and the current “Orwellian panic”
engulfing universities and the populace. Professor
Cloud briefly addressed the concept of activism
and the culture of fear that has enveloped the
majority. She began to confront the concept
of academic activism. What is permissible
advocacy? Great question. Professor Watts
stressed urgency and understanding what is at
stake. He specifically pondered how “we” got
silenced. “Silenced” was a profound descriptor.
Professor Denzin attempted an answer to the
idea of asking permission or defining boundaries
of activist education: “We are all complicit!”
I wanted so much more on the topic; why
complicity and boundaries and too much time
trying to define permissible advocacy? Rather
than accepting treading in the discussion of asking
As the conversation among panel members
evolved to the assault on intellectual freedom,
I could only think that the debate of whether or
not Iraq and the war on terror should be discussed
with students should not even be a relevant
concern. The “if” question is irrelevant. The war
is now in its sixth year. Has it really taken this
long to discuss this topic? This is something I
had never thought about. I simply assumed that
59
Iraq in the Classroom
professors had already incorporated conflict in
the Middle East into classes and that it was only
young scholars who were concerned with what
the ramifications might be if war was addressed
with students. The question of whether or not to
discuss war is no longer valid. It is now a matter
of how. If we as educators are still examining
“if,” we are already too late to be considered
relevant. If this is the case we might as well be
included in the same category as the media and
political elites who manipulated and/or failed
completely to challenge the dominant line that
sold the American public an invasion of Iraq.
The forum experience left me examining the
role of professing, the role of activism, and my
own desire for “living the life of the mind,” as I
remember Professor Michael Eric Dyson labeling
it. The forum left me confused and restless about
my role as an educator, and the dissatisfaction
of the experience agitated me through the trip
home.
academic advocacy, but if advocacy is defined as
providing “radical” perspectives for information
dissemination or complicating the relationships
between politics and media then I am guilty.
Needless to say, the boundaries between culture,
politics, and media are blurred, but how can you
make a media class relevant without inclusion of
these elements? Teaching, according to Postman
and Weingartner, if done correctly, should be
celebrated as subversive activity, not simply
stretching institutional limitations. In essence,
the question of to include or not to include Iraq
in class is moot.
The experience at NCA left me curious and
anxious to ask more questions about Iraq on
campus. Where and how was it taught? Through
what lenses? What kind of responses by students,
faculty, and administrators have there been? To
begin attempting answers I took a decidedly
different route. Rather than taking the subject
to task with colleagues, advisors, or my own
professors, I decided to engage a seemingly
forgotten audience that for all intents and
purposes maintains a primary role in the debate
over academic activism. I scrapped a class based
in Disney’s chokehold on society’s youth to have
the Iraq War conversation with my students at
Utah State University. In order to provide some
context for this conversation, it is important to
emphasize that Utah is a politically and culturally
conservative location, and is perhaps the reddest
state in the nation. While a roughly 30 percent
approval rating for America’s leaders’ handling
of Iraq and Afghanistan is considered normal by
the nation as a whole, even with a recent decrease
in Utahans’ support for the wars, the approval
rating is consistently hovering at the 55 percent
mark. In Utah, anti-war protest is traditionally
not considered to be particularly valuable. A
large portion of Utah residents perceive dissent
to be aiding enemies. Taking these trends into
account, imagine my initial surprise when an
overwhelming number of students in my class
found the discussion of Iraq, the war on terrorism,
Suddenly, I felt insecure about my own
decision to spend two weeks of my own class
on the topic of war and media. To disclose, I
am an adjunct instructor of a general education,
sophomore level media and cultural/critical
studies course required of journalism majors.
This media literacy class encompasses numerous
controversial topics while providing students
with the necessary vision to critically examine
pop culture and “news” alike. Throughout the
semester we openly confront, among other items,
race and gender in media, new media, corporate
structure, and politics. Of course, the most
recently added section to the course includes
mediated depictions of war. In the “Reporting War
in America” and “The War Narrative” sections of
class, we critiqued wartime journalism and how
conflict is represented in film and television. I
added these sections to the syllabus without a
second thought to political activism. Hell, I even
included an hour in which we contemplated where
protest music fits into media during wartime. My intentions may have been interpreted as
60
Volume 5: 2008
and conflict in the classroom as relevant and
important. Echoing my own reactions to the
NCA forum panel, some students were shocked
that including Iraq in the curriculum was even
an issue.
education processes, and media failings, it is no
surprise that these questions arose.
Even more disconcerting was the revelation
that students lack courses dealing with conflict, at
least at Utah State. A student specifically referred
to a class addressing the Palestinian/Israeli conflict
as case in point. That course was cancelled due
to administrative trepidation. The female student
was obviously disappointed and taken aback by
the decision. As our own forum progressed, the
tone transformed from politics, bureaucracy, and
history to the personal. A number of students
maintain ties to military personnel who served, or
are serving, in Iraq. To them, not talking about the
war and the elements of surrounding Iraq is an act
of disrespect. According to a particular student,
indifference is unacceptable and is the topic we
should be addressing: “Apathy is the worst.”
The frames of reference were as diverse as
the comments, and as the dialogue advanced,
an atmosphere of urgency developed. Many
students spoke of the immediacy of the situation.
They revealed that talking about the war in Iraq
brings it to a personal level, a level not typically
achieved by reading or watching an account of
combat. They understood the disconnect between
those who fight wars and those who don’t see the
battlefield. A female student commented on the
importance of openly considering diverse lenses
individuals apply to view the war and how “other”
ideas aren’t found in mainstream media outlets.
She found the “safe” setting of the classroom
a vital alternative to those provided by pundits
on network television. Another spoke about
the maturity required to learn about war and its
effects. This male student indicated that attending
college provided the level of maturity necessary
to engage with the topic. In short, he felt “ready”
to contemplate war. This readiness to understand
conflict led to historical inquiries and the past
as a dominant topic. As specified by a group
of students, understanding a past war was an
important element in grasping the current conflict. Vietnam was immediately brought up. Students
felt that the lack of education about Southeast
Asia at earlier intervals in their academic life
failed them, particularly when attempting to
make sense of the current geo-political climate.
Students who spoke of Vietnam and Iraq wanted
to know “why.” They wanted to know why U.S.
involvement in Iraq is at the current level, how
it might continue, and how “we got here.” The
students’ consistent expression of frustration
over their capacity to comprehend the historical,
political, and cultural factors stretching from
Vietnam to Iraq was troubling. Between political
manipulation, lackadaisical and complicit
As we spent the hour in critical dialogue, I
came under the impression that students simply
want to be trusted with the material. They want
to engage but lack opportunity. Of course, this
is a small sample, and in no way represents an
entire student population. This group of students
has spent nearly an entire semester addressing
controversial topics together. Perhaps they
were comfortable with each other and more
able to openly express perceptions about the
occupation in Iraq. Yet, when students in Utah
crave the opportunity to examine Iraq, terrorism,
and deeper elements of global conflict in more
detail, it is difficult to ignore their insight. We,
myself included, consistently deride the new
generation for not caring or slouching through
life ignoring anything of substance. But, how can
we do this while restricting the space for difficult
questions? Perhaps we should trust our students
to defend intellectual freedom and inquiry while
maintaining more faith in their motivation for
knowledge before writing them off.
If graduate teaching instructors don’t bring
divisive and relevant topics into the classroom,
we have no justification for criticizing members
61
of a disaffected youth culture who enter our
classrooms each day. If war, Iraq, Afghanistan,
and terrorism are not deemed legitimate topics
within a college setting, where do students who
want to be citizens obtain adequate information?
The blogs in a “digital democracy,” Twenty-four
hour news networks or Jack Bauer on 24? I’ve
seen Iraq on the front page of the New York Times
maybe four times during the past three months.
Over five years following the invasion of Iraq,
media coverage of Iraq has dropped to maintaining
three percent of major outlets’ prominent news
topics. News from Iraq is buried in the back pages
or is relegated to ten-second clips on television,
while only one in four Americans know that over
4,000 U.S. soldiers have died. Predictably, you
can forget about any notice of Iraqi casualties in
the mainstream press.
about the topic, it is understandable to simply
want to avoid the issue altogether. And this does
not even take into account how immersed in
the situation we must be in order to make sense
of Iraq ourselves. After all, it encompasses so
many nuanced and complicated elements. Can
we consider ourselves knowledgeable enough to
broach war in class? My answer is a resounding
“yes.” Boston University historian and activist
Howard Zinn (2003) warns against cowering
to the term “expert.” According to Zinn, “it
takes only a little bit of knowledge of history
to realize how dangerous it is to think that the
people who run the country know what they are
doing” (p. 11). As graduate instructors faced
with uneasiness about future employment, it
would be easy to leave Iraq out of lectures and
class discussions. But aren’t college campuses
supposed to be hotbeds of active engagement
with controversial topics? Notable journalist, and
seditionist, William Allen White publicly wrote,
“If our colleges and universities do not breed men
who riot, who rebel, who attack life with all the
youthful vision and vigor, then there is something
wrong with our colleges. The more riots that
come out of our college campuses, the better the
world for tomorrow” (cited in Fitzgibbon, 1937,
p. 331). At one time, universities were settings
for time-honored acts of dissent, as witnessed
during another era involving an unpopular war in
Southeast Asia. I will avoid waxing romantically
about academic dissent during the Vietnam
era, but parallels between Iraq and Vietnam
continue to be drawn in volumes by scholars,
journalists, politicians, and the like. Even so,
campus involvement with Iraq is one measure of
comparison that has generally failed.
When the media do address Iraq, we are met
with revelations of news networks hiring military
“analysts” with links to political elites and defense
contracts to discuss what is happening in Iraq.
CNN gave three minutes of coverage to the mass
protest that took place in 11 U.S. cities on October
27, 2007 while the Times didn’t even mention it.
Jon Stewart’s Daily Show has been crippled by the
Hollywood writers strike, and Sunday morning
talk shows are shifting attention to Iran and the
White House in 2009. Again, where do students
get the information to make educated decisions?
How can we teach communication without Iraq
and the war on terrorism? Most importantly,
what resources and experiences can we provide
students so that they might participate in the
democratic project?
The occupation in Iraq is a politically divisive
topic, and how we as graduate teaching assistants
approach the matter maintains substantial
influence over how students examine policies,
action, and consequences of conflict, ultimately
affecting future possibilities of war and the
perceived naturalness of a militaristic culture.
Because of the controversial nature of the material
and the immense amount of information available
Current anti-war inaction on campus and the
elements involved belong in a separate article, but
not including Iraq in a relevant university course
is succumbing to the atmosphere of apprehension
that has overwhelmed us and contradicts the
ideals of higher education. The irony of fear is
such that the more anxiety we maintain, the more
62
Volume 5: 2008
tentative and complicit we become, relegating
us to irrelevancy. Admittedly, teaching an issue
as contentious as Iraq is a balancing act that is
nearly impossible to navigate successfully. The
most important part is the attempt. Without the
space for discussion provided by educators, how
do students understand Iraq? How can we rely on
mainstream media outlets and punditry to provide
students with the information required for bold
citizenry? We can’t, and the more I think about it,
the fact that Iraq in the classroom was discussed as
if it is a recent concept or a questionable venture
during the NCA forum is unnerving.
must be dauntless and trust students to defend
intellectual freedom. We have to place ourselves
at risk. It is their freedom we are defending.
Fundamentally, this freedom is more valuable than
how we conceive education, which as presently
constructed, often produces individuals incapable
of considering creative, radical, and rational
approaches to examining their world. Bob Marley
jams about the systematic deception, singing:
“Building church and university, deceiving the
people continually, me say them graduating
thieves, and murderers look out now, sucking
the blood of the sufferers.” Marley chants, “tell
the children the truth,” an action that champions
rebellion. Given the opportunity and the tools to
discover truth, under the current circumstances, I
believe students will rebel, even if that rebellion is
a slight shift to new possibilities. Applying Iraq,
Afghanistan, and terrorism into course work is a
complex and sensitive operation, but trust your
students and help them find the freedom that
exists outside the classroom.
As a graduate student at the initial step in
becoming an educator, I am not dismissing any
panel members, professors, graduate teaching
assistants, academics, or intellectuals who
might take offense at my review. The NCA
forum was a conference event and an academic
activity. Perhaps I was expecting something
more inspirational, but I didn’t walk away with
motivation, ideas, or models. Rather, I was
deflated. I craved more from panelists. Their
expertise was evident, but the discussion was
too far removed from the immediate issue,
both intellectually and emotionally. Perhaps
if they would have incorporated more zeal or
de-emphasized warnings of academic advocacy,
I could have come away energized. I was
searching for reaffirmation of intellectualism
as a battleground for fighting societal ills. The
forum did produce some positive results. I have
a renewed grasp of why I want to succeed as a
professor and what it takes to cling to my own
purpose of intellectualism. Most importantly,
I was able to have an honest and unstructured
conversation with my students about Iraq, during
which they revived an inkling of hope in the next
generation. If only professors, lecturers, and
graduate instructors (myself included) would
remember to give them the chance to fully
engage.
I recognize my own hypocrisy. I catch myself
worrying about finalizing a thesis. I find myself
caught in the academic process of publishing
(or perishing). I also exist in a world of coffee
shops, MacBooks, and grocery stores; hardly
grounds to lecture about monumental events on
a broad scale. I also understand that I may have
less to lose (or more, depending on who reads
this). As a graduate student and adjunct lecturer
I am not attempting the tenure process, but I am
beginning a doctoral program. My idealism and
cynicism may be called into question because
of my youth(ish), but I understand that there is
much more at stake in discussing this issue. Our
culture and our world are struggling to hang on
to humanity. Conflict is something that, in my
humble opinion, possesses the most influential
and devastating impacts on a culture, a society, a
country, and ultimately on an individual. There is
no question about whether or not Iraq should be in
the classroom; it already is. My students realize
this all too well. They too are concerned about
If we don’t, what is the point of teaching?
We can’t be timid when it comes to wartime. We
63
Bibliography
LaPlante, M. D. (2008, January 23). Utahns still
avoid active-duty service. Salt Lake Tr i b u n e .
Retrieved March 19, 2008, from LexisNexis
Academic Universe database.
where to find information. They recognize the
value of academic inquiry. They want to discover
what their roles as citizens are.
The urgency I felt from students re-vitalized
my belief in a college classroom as a point for
advocacy through education and my students
taught me something else. They helped me
discover that activism in the classroom, including
bringing the occupation of Iraq into coursework,
is less teaching and more art. Turning a classroom
into an evocative outlet of expression is more
than relying on defined and traditional rules. We
must consider the classroom walls as the only
limits there are, risk failure and repercussion,
and develop the dialogue with students to create
our own forum for activism rather than debating
academic limits. I have only recently discovered
by attending the 2007 NCA forum on conflict
in the classroom that this is the most valuable
lesson. I traveled to Chicago to immerse myself
in intellectual activism, but after listening to
students in Utah, I remembered what forum
holds the most value and who might know
something I need to be reminded of – students
in the classroom.
Marley, B. (1979). Babylon system [recorded by
Bob Marley and the Wailers]. On s u r v i v a l
[CD]. NY: Island.
Ridenhour, C. D. (2007). Harder than you think
[recorded by Public Enemy]. On how to sell soul
to a soulless people who sold their soul. NY:
SlamJamz Records.
White, W. A. (1932, April 8). Student riots. The
Emporia Gazette, editorial. In R. H. Fitzgibbon
(1937). Forty years on main street. NY: Farrar &
Rinehart, Inc
Zinn, H. (2003). Artists in a time of war. NY:
Seven Stories Press.
64
“How Do You Solve a Problem Like
Maria?”: Reflecting on My
Experience as an International
Teaching Assistant
Pages 65-69
Richie Neil Hao
“
He was a poor teacher. He is too young
and not knowledgeable to be a teacher,
in my own opinion.” These were
the words of Maria, a White female freshman
(probably only 18 years old), who wrote in my
teaching evaluation at the end of the Spring 2004
term. After reading Maria’s thoughts of me as a
teacher, I realized that my 23-year-old Chinese
Filipino international teaching assistant (ITA)
body was politicized in the classroom where I
had to negotiate my identities as an international
graduate student and teacher. My “international”
graduate student/teacher identity invokes so
many things in terms of politics and social
identity. Unfortunately, some of my students
perceived this part of my identity as “foreign”
due to their perception of ITAs’ accented speech
as incomprehensible (Yook & Albert, 1999).
And because of this constructed foreign identity
of ITAs, I feel that I have to legitimize my
racialized body in the U.S. classroom in order
to fit the “typical” image of a public speaking
teacher—a White American teacher who speaks
with a “standard American” accent. In this essay,
I will reflect from my encounters with Maria
in the classroom and demonstrate how power
and subject-positions affected my pedagogical
practices and classroom politics.
ITA Body in the Classroom
When I taught public speaking as an instructor
of record for the first time four years ago, I
wondered about whether or not my students
recognized my power in the classroom as the
teacher. Perhaps it is because my students knew
me as a twenty-something-year-old ITA who
speaks English with a slight Filipino accent.
As part of the cultural norms of the classroom,
ITAs such as myself have difficulty in fitting
into the linguistic expectations of American
students. Consequently, like other ITAs, I have
to try hard to perform a social construction of
“standard American English,” which is most
often reductively constructed as the need to
sound “White” in the classroom in order to be
perceived positively. Knowing of course, that
the juxtaposition of how I sound will always
be played against the materiality of my body
(or in other words, how I look). In addition,
because of my new membership in academia as a
“teacher,” some students resisted my power in the
classroom which often resulted in disrespectful
and disruptive behaviors. In fact, student
misbehavior is common in classes taught by ITAs,
where “derisive laughter, disrespectful gestures
like throwing hands in the air, disrespectful
comments, and general noncompliance such as
‘everyone refused to turn in their work’” (Fitch
& Morgan, 2003, p. 302).
Richie Neil Hao (M.A., California State University, Los Angeles) is a Ph.D. Candidate and
Assistant Director of the Core Curriculum in the
Department of Speech Communication at Southern Illinois University, Carbondale. His research
interests include communication pedagogy, intercultural communication, and performance studies.
In 2004, Richie received California State University, Los Angeles’ Outstanding Graduate Student
award as well as the Department of Communication Studies’ Outstanding Graduate Teaching Associate award.
Struggling to negotiate which identity I should
perform in the classroom has made me think of the
concept of liminality. Liminality “can refer to a
transitional stage, as in the process of becoming
something new or it can reference a geographical
65
Volume 5: 2008
and cultural location, a kind of border crossing
or mestizo identity” (Turner, 1986, p. 25). As an
ITA, I was vacillating between identities, roles,
and performances as a student and teacher. In
addition, I was transitioning between my old
identity as an undergraduate and the new demands
of a graduate student identity. So, in between
all of these transitions, it was difficult for me to
manage my identities in the classroom, especially
in light of my concerns regarding whether
or not I was performing the “right” identity
in a particular moment. In essence, juggling
different identities is bounded by performative
borders. Alexander (2002) argues that graduate
assistants are involved in “border pedagogy”
in which they have “to negotiate multiple roles
and identities” (p. 19). Furthermore, graduate
assistants are always at “a border crossing, a
liminal space between status of a student and a
professional colleague…The graduate assistant is
betwixt and between multiple apprenticeships for
professional occupations as teachers, researchers,
and practitioners” (p. 19). Border pedagogy is
not only about physical borders; it also involves
cultural borders, those that are “historically
constructed and socially organized within maps
of rules and regulations that limit and enable
particular identities, individual capacities, and
social forms” (Aronowitz and Giroux, 1991, p.
119). As a result, graduate teaching assistants
(GTAs) and ITAs often struggle to negotiate
which identities to perform, since physical and
cultural borders alike are competing with each
other in a particular space. In particular, GTAs
and ITAs are often conflicted by when to perform
their graduate student identity because such a
performance can be perceived as an inexperienced
teacher.
Fitch and Morgan’s (2003) study shows that
undergraduate students often object to being
taught by ITAs in a wide variety of subjects such
as mathematics, economics, computer science,
and general education courses. Perhaps that
explains why Maria’s comments earlier in this
essay confirm that my age and new membership
as an ITA produced difficulties in establishing
my credibility as a teacher that presumably are
not faced by “traditional” faculty. As Alexander
(2004) notes,
The role of a graduate assistant is in and of
itself conflicted. Whether the graduate student
serves as a teaching assistant or research
assistant, the position requires a dual focus
on the acquisition and completion of degree
requirements and the additional conditions of
the assistantship (p. 18).
Being both a student and teacher, it is not
a surprise as to why many students, such as
Maria, refused to recognize my teacher identity,
since, technically speaking, I am not really a
“teacher”—I’m just a student performing the role
of the “teacher.” Even though I was the instructor
of record, the liminality of my student/teacher
body prevented me from embodying what my
students’ expected of a “teacher” identity.
“Problems with Maria”
Due to the liminality of my identities as a
student and teacher, Maria did not recognize me
as the instructor of record. Therefore, it was not a
surprise for Maria to challenge the midterm exam
I had given out in class. In fact, Fitch and Morgan
(2003) point out that students tend to complain
about ITAs’ “unfair grading” (p. 304). When
I passed back the exam and went over it with
students, Maria complained that it was “unfair”
and that the exam contained some “tricky terms
that all sounded similar.” Of course, students who
tend to not do well on an exam would complain.
As a matter of fact, Maria got a “C.”
No matter how I negotiated my student/
teacher identities, it was still hard for students to
overlook my 23-year-old Chinese Filipino ITA
body. As a young and youthful-looking ITA,
students took advantage of my inexperience as a
teacher and exerted their power in the classroom.
Moreover, Maria asked if the midterm exam
questions were written by me: “Did you come
66
“How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria?”
up with all these questions?” My interpretation
of Maria’s question is two-fold: I purposely
made the exam difficult and that I did not know
how to write an exam (it was poorly written).
Maria essentially challenged how I designed
the midterm exam because she thought my
credibility as a teacher was questionable—I was
not knowledgeable enough to do things correctly.
Perhaps Maria questioned my perceived power
as the teacher. McCroskey and Richmond
(1983) explain that shared perceptions between
teachers and students lead to their understanding
of how power is exerted in the classroom. More
specifically, a low degree of shared perceptions
may contribute to ineffective communication
between the teacher and student. Maria’s
perception of my presence as the instructor was
non-existent mainly because of my ITA status.
In fact, GTAs and ITAs generally do not have as
much power as a professor, which is why students
like Maria believe they could challenge and/or
confront GTAs and ITAs (Golish, 1999).
unnamable” (de Certeau, 1984, p. 191). For both
reasons of guilt and consideration, I waited for
about five minutes when most of the one-fourth
of the class missing returned. When we were
about to start with the exam, Maria asked me if I
had an extra Scantron sheet! I could not believe
what had just happened. Maria silenced me once
again. As a teacher, I was in a difficult position. Maria both enlightened me of a situation in
which I was culpable, but she also reprimanded
me exerting her own form of power and justice
upon me. In addition, by requesting a Scantron
(in light of what had previously occurred), Maria
also sought to control and manipulate me into
accommodating her needs. This narrative also
shows that Maria attempted to have the first and
last word that controlled me. In that particular
moment, I felt that Maria asserted her role as the
authority in the classroom and considered me as
her loyal servant. As a powerless “dying man,”
I gave in to Maria. I gave her a Scantron sheet.
As an “unnamable” in the classroom, I functioned
in “in-between space,” (p. 193) where I clearly
lost my power as the instructor, although I was
still the instructor.
In another instance, on the final exam day, I
arrived at approximately 8:10 A.M. (10 minutes
late to class) because of traffic. When I entered
the classroom, about one-fourth of the students
were missing. Apparently, according to Maria,
they all went to the University Bookstore to get
Scantron sheets. My initial reaction was to start
the final exam anyway, since they knew that they
needed to get the Scantron sheet for the exam.
Maria, on the other hand, disagreed with me as
usual: “Can you wait a few more minutes since
you were late anyway?” Of course, she was not
completely concerned about the other students
but rather herself—she needed more time to study
for the exam (she was looking at the textbook
and her notes when she talked back at me). That
particular moment felt like I was a dying man—I
was deprived the opportunity to respond and was
silenced at the same time: “The dying man is
the lapse of this discourse. He is, and can only
be, ob-scene. And hence censured, deprived of
language, wrapped up in a shroud of silence: the
I thought my problems with Maria were
over. While Maria and her peers were taking
the final exam, Maria questioned why I asked an
unreasonable essay question, which read: “By
using the Monroe’s Motivated Sequence, write a
persuasive speech on why we need a new library.”
I never thought of this question being unfair,
but apparently she did. Maria expressed that
she could not answer the question because she’s
“never been to the library.” Maria decided to use
what Golish (1999) calls “compliance-gaining
strategies” where certain strategies are used by
students to take advantage of GTAs and ITAs
in order to exert their power in the classroom.
For example, students exercise these strategies
to negotiate with a teacher to turn in their paper
late or to negotiate an assignment. Another
example of compliance-gaining strategy is when
students make the GTA or ITA feel guilty about
67
Volume 5: 2008
something, which could eventually result in his
or her compliance to the students’ request. In
Maria’s case, she tried to make me feel guilty
about the essay question being “unfair,” as she
tried to persuade me to change the question.
After reflecting on my encounter with Maria, I
feel that my ITA identity and status have affected
my perceived credibility in the classroom. With
liminality as an unstable location, I had to figure
out how to transition in academia from a student
to teacher and had to negotiate when to perform
which identity as deemed necessary to fit into the
classroom culture. Unfortunately, my foreignness
as an ITA poses some challenges in how I engage
my pedagogy. Like my experience as an ITA
in the classroom, Min Liu, an ITA from North
Dakota State University, said it best that ITAs
are “set up for failure…No matter how hard they
try, their foreignness will always work against
them…” (Gravois, 2005, p. A12). Consequently,
most of the time, instructors who are considered
to be White and “older” are expected to teach
classes like English and public speaking.
Maria clearly tried everything she could to
persuade me to change the essay question, but
she did not succeed. As a result, she decided to
persuade her peers that the essay question in the
exam was unfair, which resulted in a lot of them
pointing out that the essay must be changed:
“Yeah, we’ve never been to the library! How can
we write it?” The fluency of their argument not
withstanding, Golish (1999) points out that getting
the whole class to support a student is not unusual
as a compliance-gaining strategy, regardless of
the accuracy of the position. According to Golish
(1999), group persuasion occurs when students
try to gain the backing of the whole class to grant
their request. Although I stood my ground and
refused to change the essay question, about half
of the class seemed resistant to accept my role as
a teacher—a teacher that deserves some respect
and dignity.
So, with my 23-year-old Chinese Filipino body
on the line, questions were raised if I was qualified
to teach public speaking. After all, it is generally
believed that students look up to professors
because of their knowledge and expertise in
the area of study, but sometimes professors are
questioned in how much they really know. In
my case, in the eyes of some students, I am not
really a professor. This is primarily because of
stereotypical images of professors as older with
the academic attainment of having a Ph.D. and
years of teaching experience. Therefore, some
students may ask: “Why are we being taught by
a graduate student?” This explains why some
students such as Maria, questioned my knowledge
as a teacher.
“Solving Maria”?
As the term went on, Maria became more
confrontational and challenged my credibility
more than when the class started. Unfortunately,
I did not address the disruptive behaviors Maria
had created. I would have to admit that perhaps
my novice status as a teacher has made it harder
for me to take active (and proactive) measures to
prevent class disruptions. Like other GTAs and
ITAs, I faced many obstacles and challenges in
which I was put to the test to see if I was credible
enough to teach a college-level course. Similarly,
my ITA status forced me to negotiate between
my international graduate student and teacher
identities. Although I had the legitimate power in
a given space to teach, I would have to say that it
was not easy, especially given the fact that I was
a new member of the classroom culture, acting
in the role of instructor.
Despite my negative experiences with Maria,
I still find my ITA experience in the classroom
to be worthwhile because I am privileged to be
given the opportunity to teach, which allows me
to grow as a teacher. However, what I learned to
appreciate the most about my teaching experience
was to discover the complexities of my identities
and my positionality in the classroom. In the
company of other ITAs and GTAs, I can say that
our liminality as students/teachers does not deter
68
“How Do You Solve a Problem Like Maria?”
our abilities to perform our role as a teacher. After
all, we experience similar—if not the same—joys
and concerns with teaching as other teachers do.
Our academic titles as “GTA” or “ITA” are just
that—titles. No matter what GTAs and ITAs are
called, we are teachers because we step into a
classroom space to shape, influence, and inspire
the minds of our students. After teaching for few
years now, I have embraced the complexity that
my ITA identity brings to my daily experiences
as a teacher, and because of that I can finally
understand who I am and who I want to be—a
teacher.
who is to blame? The Chronicle of Higher
Education, pp. A10-A12.
McCroskey, J. C. & Richmond, V. P. (1983).
Power in the classroom I: Teacher and student
perceptions. Communication Education, 32,
175-184.
Turner, V. (1986). The anthropology of
performance. New York: PAJ Publication.
Yook, E. L. & Albert, R. D. (1999). Perceptions
of international teaching assistants: The
interrelatedness of intercultural training, cognition,
and emotion. Communication Education, 48,
1-17.
References
Alexander, B. K. (2002). Betwixt & between:
The liminal space of the graduate student as
administrative assistant. In W. Davis, J. Smith
& R. Smith (Eds.), Ready to Teach: Graduate
Teaching Assistants Prepare for Today and for
Tomorrow (pp. 16-20). Stillwater, OK: New
Forums.
Alexander, B. K. (2004). Racializing identity:
Performance, pedagogy, and regret. Cultural
Studies–Critical Methodologies, 4, 12-28.
Aronowitz, S. & Giroux, H. A. (1991). Postmodern
Education: Politics, Culture & Social Criticism.
Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press.
Certeau, M. de. (1984). The practice of everyday
life. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of
California Press.
Fitch, F. & Morgan, S. E. (2003). Not a lick of
English: Constructing the ITA identity through
student narratives. Communication Education,
52, 297-310.
Golish, T. D. (1999). Students’ use of compliance
gaining strategies with graduate teaching
assistants: Examining the other end of the power
spectrum. Communication Quarterly, 47, 1232.
Gravois, J. (2005, April 8). Teach impediment:
When the student can’t understand the instructor,
69
Pages 65-69
Juliane Mora
This email came to me from another graduate
student instructor after her first semester teaching. It prompted me to reflect on my own interactions
with students at the university where I am
currently studying because I have had similar
experiences. As instructors, it is our job to be selfreflexive about our teaching in order to improve. One of the most natural moments to engage in
reflection is at the end of the semester when we
receive student course evaluations. In reading
over the comments that students have provided, I
can see an entirely different dynamic of the class.
This view can be double-edged, as evidenced by
when we get good evaluations for creative things
that worked, or when students explain in-depth
what they disliked about our class, the content,
and the teaching.
Dear Juliane,
I just got my first semester course evaluations
back and I am pretty bummed. I thought I
had done a really good job of incorporating
different perspectives into my class and
exposing my students to a broad range of
viewpoints but apparently they hated it.
This teaching in the real classroom with real
students is just not what I thought it was
going to be. How are things going where
you are?
Talk to you soon,
Paula
Our discipline complicates teaching as we
are often addressing conflicting and contentious
topics, and the way that we engage those in the
classroom has the potential to affect the longterm opinions and beliefs of our students. One
particular aspect of our teaching that requires
careful thought and reflection is the engagement
of politics in our pedagogy, particularly within
the field of communication. As instructors, we
have a responsibility to teach content matter,
but I believe that we also have the responsibility
to engage in praxis, or the use of reflection and
action, in order to apply that course content to the
lives of our students. One of the most important in
our current national social climate is politics, most
especially the politics of the current presidency
and the events in his administration spreading
outward from 9/11.
Juliane Mora is a fourth year graduate student in
the Department of Communication at the University of Utah. Her research interests are the use
of communication in the process of instruction
with a special emphasis on issues of diversity
and social justice. She has taught communication to engineering students as part of a unique
interdisciplinary collaborative program between
the Humanities and Engineering and has done
research on teaching technical information as well
as communication across the curriculum. She has
a background in both geology and communication
and worked as a consultant for private industry
before beginning her doctoral studies. Her goals
are to work as a teacher educator and share her
knowledge of how communication functions in
teaching situations with others to improve student
learning. She is currently teaching in both the
Engineering and Communication departments.
I recently taught a class focused on how
communication shapes social reality. The course
description states that the class is designed to
70
Volume 5: 2008
interrogate the relationship between human
communication and social behavior and is based
on the assumption that what we think of as
“reality” is actually constructed through social
interaction and communication. By discussing
different institutional contexts, the class engaged
how identities, institutions, ideologies, roles,
norms and other social formations arise from,
enable, and constrain our communication. Above
all, I designed the course to promote critical
reflection of our own positions in, assumptions
about, and contributions to “reality.” I may have
succeeded.
[The professor] challenged the very core of
conventional thinking, the first day of class
she began by challenging our perceptions of
how things “should” be.
on Terror” are identified as insurgents, freedom
fighters, rebels, or terrorists. These examples,
and others, were used to showcase the power
of language as a tool for shaping reality and
stimulate questioning of language use, especially
by the Bush administration in their promotion of
the Iraq war.
It is apparent from this student’s comment
that my examples were seen as interjections of
my personal politics into the classroom, and the
underlying assumption in this comment is that
they do not belong there. While I acknowledge
that it was my goal to stimulate the students to
think from another perspective, I was not trying
to limit them to my own. This is where the anger
and disappointment come in; I am angry that out
of all of our discussions this student focused on
the ones relating to the Bush administration as
those that defined the class and disappointed that
for all of my open responses to their questions,
this student felt that I was disrespectful of her/his
position while pushing my own.
As this student quote indicates, one of the
goals of the course was to engage students in
questioning their taken for granted assumptions
about how the world works, why things are
the way they are and how our communication
behavior shapes that worldview. While the
comment was gratifying and fed my conception of
the way that I designed the course, the following
excerpt provides a vastly different perspective.
This quote is from the same class.
I think that the teacher should not interject so
many personal agendas against the current
president of the United States, his policies
on the war against terror and any policies
of this great country concerning the current
president of the United States. It is rude
and disrespectful the way that things were
discussed regarding the President.
This brings me back to self- reflexivity about
my own teaching practice. In an environment
where students are reluctant to be pushed out
of their comfort zone or engage topics that they
have strong opinions about, how much credence
should I give this critique? In fulfilling my
instructional role, I see it as part of my task to
question majority opinions, voice marginalized
viewpoints, promote perspective taking from
multiple subject positions, and stimulate higher
order critical thinking in my students. This is how
I understand my job. Should I stop doing my job
if I get feedback like this? What exactly should I
make of this comment, especially in light of the
vast majority of others from the same class that
praised my ability to make them think “outside
the box”? Should I simply discount this student’s
perspective and write her/him off as “just one of
those students”? I find it difficult to answer these
questions and I pose them in the event that anyone
else has had similar issues.
When I read this comment, I was surprised,
confused, angry and disappointed. Our discussions
of the current political administration were
examples of many different communication
related phenomena and the power of language
to shape our understanding of events. As an
example, we discussed the ways that different
groups participating in the broad ranging “War
71
If it is “rude and disrespectful” to criticize
our leaders, then why do we prize the First
Amendment? In theory, our government is based
on a representative democracy where individual
citizens have the responsibility to be informed in
order to make decisions about elected leaders and
social policy. I think that our government still has
the potential to change and respond to pressure
from the citizenry, but only if that citizenry is
informed and has the ability to use their voice
for creating social change. If I did not believe
that, I could not continue teaching from a position
that embraces the democratic ideals of higher
education. Not to mention, it would be difficult to
teach my students material that fulfills the critical
thinking requirements laid out by the university if
I did not believe that they should be able to think
critically and challenge taken-for-granted ways
of thinking in order to make their own decisions
about the world.
until after the class was over, but it also means
that I have no way to address this concern. This
is one of the drawbacks to the course evaluation,
that we can’t go back and change things after the
class is over. This information can be useful in
preparing for future classes, but it cannot be used
to change events that have already happened. This
is also a reflection of the improvisational nature
of teaching. The fact that we can never go back
and do a lesson over makes the product of doing
our job somewhat ephemeral. For this student,
whatever I may have been trying to do in that
session, or in the class as a whole, was eclipsed
by the examples I chose to use. This could be an
example of how we “lose” students during our
lessons, or it could be an example of how we don’t
know what impact our material has on students, or
simply the fact that we don’t know what students
take away from the lessons we teach. For these
reasons, course evaluations are troublesome as
a mode of feedback for instructors to use in reexamining their pedagogical choices.
The guiding principle for the way that I
view higher education is based on the ideals of
education for democratic participation. This
principle influences the way that I see my role
as an instructor in the classroom. As I struggle
to answer how I place my politics within my
pedagogy, I am compelled to think about my class
from the students’ perspective. I am the authority
in the room, much as I might try to spread out the
responsibility and share power with my students.
At the end of the semester, it is still my job to assign
grades based on performance and I can’t pretend
that this role does not influence my student’s
behavior in class. As a white female instructor,
I cannot ignore the impact of my embodied self
within the classroom either and I struggle with
how to present that self to my students. In a social
climate that is still predominantly populated with
white males, the majority of whom belong to
the dominant patriarchal religious community
in the region, my credibility and authority are
questioned regularly.
Problematic as it may be, the course evaluation
still provides most of the feedback that I have
received about my teaching and is the one that
has caused me to reflect here about how to engage
the topic of politics in my pedagogy. While the
student comment above causes me to rethink
my use of political examples, I still feel strongly
that, in using the actions of the current President
to explore social constructions of reality and
the creation of a culture of fear that impacts our
everyday lives, I was pushing my students to
consider what they have willingly accepted from
their government. Beyond understanding how
communication functions and the ways that it is
used to advance different agendas and positions,
I wanted students to question their taken for
granted existence within our current national
socio-political moment. It is this lesson that I
feel was the goal of my comments but I wonder
if I should re-evaluate those goals because of one
disgruntled student? Here again, I wonder what
the purpose of teaching is. Should I avoid pushing
With this in mind, I can understand why a
student would wait to express a negative opinion
72
Volume 5: 2008
my students outside of their comfort zone, or
simply avoid politics as a topic for doing so? I
find insight in yet another comment.
[The professor] was most helpful in relating
class content to real life situations. Also it
was helpful that students were challenged
to re-think their positions from multiple
perspectives.
accepted as the norm while others are not. If my
job is to make sure that my students are exposed
to viewpoints that are different than their own in
order to increase their understanding and perhaps,
at some point, their acceptance, then should I
continue to do my job in this way? This is the very
question that I am attempting to address; should
I reconcile my goals for the purpose of higher
education with those expressed by the students?
Do I have the right/ responsibility to create and
follow my own agenda as an instructor? Should
I continue to push students to think critically and
outside of their comfort zone even when I get
negative feedback for it? Further insight can be
gained from the following comment:
[The professor] was very energetic about the
subject and also open-minded. I don’t believe
she was trying to push her own thoughts on
people but informing the class that there are
other considerations when observing life and
not just a “one size fits all”
So, what is the role of politics in our
pedagogy? Do we forgo engaging these topics
with our students for fear that they will respond
negatively? Is it more important to introduce the
topic even if there is the chance that someone
will feel we were pushing our own position
over theirs? What am I risking as a graduate
instructor by including these kinds of questions
and techniques? More importantly for me, what
do I risk by leaving them out?
When I bring politics into my classroom, it is
usually in the most general sense and in relation
to topics with which most of my students are
somewhat familiar. I say this not to downplay the
role of politics in my classroom, but to highlight
the breadth of the topics that we cover. I think
this is important because when I use examples,
I try to make sure that I am connecting them to
the lived experiences of my students so that the
potential for them to take something away from
the lesson is increased. This is my understanding
of the definition of praxis, connecting reflection in
the classroom to action in the broader community.
Because of the mostly homogenous environment
in which I teach, praxis requires me to bring
in perspectives that are not experienced by the
dominant majority in order that they do not walk
away thinking that their experiences represent
those of the entire population.
Ultimately, there is a great deal to be gained
from self-reflexivity and analysis of our own
teaching practice whether it is stimulated by
course evaluations or other events. Teaching
this summer course and getting thirty positive
comments plus one negative response has made
me think about my teaching in general but
more specifically about politics as a topic in my
classroom. I have addressed questions here that
are relevant to my experience and perhaps to those
of other graduate instructors in order to stimulate
discussion of our role in incorporating politics
into our pedagogy. As graduate instructors, we
are in a liminal position between being students
and being professors. As we negotiate that space
and develop teaching identities of our own, these
are questions that we need to address for our
own practice. What support, encouragement,
guidance, and/ or response do we get for our
efforts? Should we be negotiating this space in
these ways or should we avoid bringing in any
politics until we are in faculty positions? Or we
have been granted tenure? There is a level of risk
When those perspectives clash with the
politics of the conservative leadership that
we are currently experiencing, I use them as
an opportunity to explore links between the
experiences of different groups at different
times and question how some things come to be
73
involved in advancing a position that includes
politics as a graduate instructor both for the
graduate student, in relation to her/his faculty
advisors, as well as for the graduate instructor
with her/his undergraduate student population.
Is this an acceptable risk and for whom?
Dear Paula,
I hear you. It is very different to teach here
where all of my students think that everyone
else is just like them. I can say that I am
not going to give up though. I am going
to keep introducing controversial topics
to my students and use all of the creative
and engaging techniques I can think of to
stimulate them. That is what we went into
PhD programs to do and, even when it doesn’t
work, it is still worth it for what we can learn
for next time. Good luck with your next group
of students, don’t let them get you down.
For myself, I can say that I am willing to take
the risk because of my beliefs about the nature and
purpose of teaching for social change. My goals
in this piece have been to expose the issues that I
face in the event that others have also faced them;
to stimulate discussions about teaching, its role
and purpose in our social structure; and to advance
my own position as an example. I make no claims
about my position other than that it is my own.
What I find valuable about discussions like this
is the stimulating power of the topic to prompt
others into developing their own positions. These
are the discussions that I feel we should be having
about teaching along with those that we have in
our seminars about the ongoing conversations in
the field of research. In our growth as graduate
students and instructors, I feel that it is paramount
to put equal amounts of effort into developing a
stance as both a graduate student learning to be
a researcher and as a graduate student learning
to be an instructor.
Love,
Juliane
In response to my friend and colleague, I had
this to say and I feel that it represents the current
role of politics in my pedagogy based on my
beliefs about the role I am filling as an instructor
and my experiences in the classroom.
74
Electromania
Pages 75
Gregory O’Toole
Electromania is a continuous effort of innovative cultural documentation with an emphasis on the
very media through which the work is influenced, created, and transmitted. Starting in the 1950s
media theorist Marshall McLuhan held that “media are an extension of our selves.” If this is true,
and I believe it to be, we can further his theory, and posit that “the self can be a medium in turn.”
This ongoing process of life witnessed (documented) “through the eyes” of various media is what
I refer to as The Quantumedia Experiment™. The blog is a series of instances where the affective
character of media in today’s culture becomes apparent. It is important to note these effects and
catalog them for their sociological importance. The blog is morphing into a series of outline notes
for my doctoral dissertation titled Technomadology and the Uncanny Inversion with the European
Graduate School, Saas-fee, Switzerland.
Click URL to Enter Electromania
http://www.gregory-otoole.com/blog-cast/index.cfm
Gregory O’Toole is a doctoral student in media
and cultural philosophy at the European Graduate School. O’Toole’s critical research and
theoretical work is concerned with media and
the psychological (personal) and sociological
(mass) effects they carry in today’s communication media-based culture.
75
Book Review:
Queering Public Address: Sexualities
in American Historical Discourse
Pages 76-80
Rosie Russo
E
merging in a time when rhetorical
scholarship exhibits a heightened
sensitivity to power and cultural
conditions that produce and sustain discourse,
Queering Public Address (QPA) comes as a fitting
and welcome intervention into heteronormative
rhetorical histories. A collection of essays by
leading figures in rhetorical studies, the volume
showcases their “grappling at the intersection of
rhetoric, history, and queerness, . . . grappling with
the historically situated cultural performances,
politics, and meanings of the ‘good queer
speaking well’ and of queer sexuality as a prism
for the study of public address.”1
American historical discourse, to undermine the
governing heteronormativity in its disciplinary
conventions and articulations, and to queer the
objects, methods, and theories within this field
of inquiry.”2 Indeed a recuperative project,3
QPA treads the delicate line between speculative
revisions of rhetorical history and raising critical,
self-reflexive questions about the extent to which
scholars can or should peer queerly into the
past.
Morris divided QPA into two parts: “Queer
Interventions” and “Queer Figurations.” I will
organize my own review of the book’s various
essays according to this division.
Illustrating both queer dimensions of rhetorical
history and rhetorical dimensions of queer history,
editor Charles E. Morris III’s volume seeks to
highlight the ways in which public address,
though (rightly) problematized in terms of gender
and race, and, to a lesser degree, class, has yet to
be queered. This “queer impoverishment”—that
is, the refusal to acknowledge the sexualities of
historical individuals—has rendered invisible
not only the individuals themselves, but also the
processes by which such silencing is achieved,
normalized, and perpetuated. These processes
are undeniably rhetorical; therefore, the chorus
of voices in QPA aims to “disrupt the silence
regarding nonnormative sexualities as it relates to
Queer Interventions
The essays in this section critically
interrogate—from queer perspectives—the
various principles and practices that have governed
rhetorical-historical analysis. For example, Dana
Cloud argues in her chapter that asking whether
a particular historical figure—in her case,
Eleanor Roosevelt—is “one of us” is the wrong
question, as tempting as that query may be. This
is the wrong question, because we cannot claim
historical “family” members as if their identities
were knowable, fixed essences, and because we
need to be cognizant and reflexive about how
we approach the recovery of queer memory.
1
Charles E. Morris III, “Introduction,” in Queering
Public Address: Sexualities in American Historical
Discourse (Columbia, SC: University of South Carolina
Press, 2007), p. 2.
2
Press, 2007), p. 5.
Rosie Russo is currently a Doctoral Teaching Fellow in the Department of Communication at the
University of Utah. She is interested in the intersections of rhetoric, queer studies, and identity.
3
Not unlike some earlier feminist projects, such as
Karlyn Kohrs Campbell’s Man Cannot Speak for Her (New
York: Greenwood Press, 1989), or Barbara Biesecker’s
“Coming to Terms with Recent Attempts to Write Women
into the History of Rhetoric,” Philosophy and Rhetoric, 25
(1992), pp. 140-161.
76
Volume 5: 2008
Therefore, her purpose in this contribution is not
to determine whether Roosevelt was or was not
a lesbian; instead she attempts to queer public
knowledge and memory of the prominent, public
figure Eleanor Roosevelt provides. Cloud helps
her readers see that in spite of our thirst for queer
representation, it matters less what someone is
than what they and the texts that represent them
do; queering public address must do more than
affirm queer existence. She concludes that we
“ought not settle for scandalous visibility when
there are major instrumental projects that need
real advocates, not mysterious figures from the
past.”4
strategies challenged essentialist, hegemonic
categories and allowed him to construct a
different, id est, queer meaning of community.
Foss concludes by suggesting that Milk’s
queering of the rhetorical situation may provide
a model for queer public address that perhaps can
be utilized by other marginalized groups.6
In a second showing after his sparkling
introduction, Morris’ “My Old Kentucky Homo”
is my favorite piece in the collection. Here, his
subject is the political struggle between rival
versions of Abraham Lincoln’s queer memory,
through an elucidation of which he illustrates
the complex dynamics initiated when public
memory and sexuality collide and how these
components are “marshaled in a symbolic contest
for the communal and national meanings of
historical, and therefore contemporary, identity,
community, and politics.”7 Morris’ chapter
reveals the inherent danger in historians’ ability
to ‘protect us against memory,’ which works as an
“assassination of memory, or mnemonicide, for
the sake of perpetuating a hegemonic connection
to our ostensibly straight past.”8
Similarly chiding of rhetorical scholars are
Ralph R. Smith and Russel R. Windes in their
chapter on queer identities. Their central concern
is definitional contests over self and other, and they
attempt to illuminate the processes of marginal
collective identity formation, with particular
regard to variant sexualities. Advocating a shift
from the singular gay subject toward a pluralistic
conception of the queer subject, they conclude that
“success of a queer understanding of rhetorical
action will be achieved when so-called normal
movement subjectivities are not simply taken for
granted but have their turn at careful analysis.”5
Lastly in this section, Julie M. Thompson
articulately warns us against a reified conception
of the representative homosexual speaking
subject as white, in addition to breaking apart
normalized imaginary representations of the
racialized speaking subject as heterosexual. These
disruptions constitute what she calls quaring
public address, and in her chapter, she enumerates
several critical principles she has developed
In her chapter, Karen A. Foss juxtaposes
Lloyd Bitzer’s rhetorical situation with Harvey
Milk’s political rhetoric to suggest Milk’s
campaigns offer an opportunity to observe the
interplay of exigence, audience, rhetor, discourse,
and constraints from a queer standpoint—hence,
resulting in a queer rhetorical situation. Through
her analysis, Foss shows how Milk’s rhetorical
6
Karen A. Foss, “Harvey Milk and the Queer
Rhetorical Situation,” in Queering Public Address:
Sexualities in American Historical Discourse (Columbia,
University of South Carolina Press, 2007), p. 88.
4
Dana L. Cloud, “The First Lady’s Privates:
Queering Eleanor Roosevelt for American Public Address
Studies,” in Queering Public Address: Sexualities in
American Historical Discourse (Columbia, University of
South Carolina Press, 2007), p. 40.
7
Charles E. Morris III, “My Old Kentucky Homo,”
in Queering Public Address: Sexualities in American
Historical Discourse (Columbia, University of South
Carolina Press, 2007), p. 95.
5
Ralph R. Smith and Russel R. Windes, “Civil
Rights Movements and Queer Identities,” in Queering
Discourse (Columbia, University of South Carolina Press,
2007), p. 66.
8
Charles E. Morris III, “My Old Kentucky Homo,”
77
Book Review
in relationship to this process. From these, she
provisionally concludes that quaring public address
might “blend ‘traditional’ conceptualizations of
the functions of public address with the political
sensibilities of various counterracist, postcolonial,
and feminist discourses.”9
Continuing the interrogation of the ways
in which queers and queerness get produced,
Robert Alan Brookey compellingly argues that
the institutional study of sexuality has actually
produced queer speech. He contends it was this
very production on which queers began to mount
their resistance and advocate for their sexual
rights, though he acquiesces that this discourse
did not always work to their benefit,12 reparative
therapy being the obvious example. In his chapter,
Brookey demonstrates how “oppression does
not necessarily exact silence, nor does speech
necessarily signify freedom from institutional
power.”13
Queer Figurations
The essays in this section focus on
rhetorical productions of queerness in particular
circumstances of American history. Exemplary
in this regard is John Sloop’s troubling of the
hetero/homo binary through his “collecting” of
Lucy Lobdell as transgendered, “to place him in
Leslie Feinberg’s canon, if simply for the purpose
of helping provide ‘transgenderism’ in the present
with an historical lineage.”10 By helping his
readers understand the ways that Lobdell’s gender
performance problematized cultural assumptions,
Sloop shows how we are able to help build one
part of the larger mosaic of historical studies that
give us insight into the meaning of gender and
sexuality at the turn of the nineteenth century.
Closing out both the Queer Figurations
portion, as well as the entire volume are
Lisbeth Lipari and Lester C. Olsen, who argue,
respectively, for a rhetoric of intersectionality
and constitutive characteristics of traumatic
styles in public address. Lipari mines Lorraine
Hansberry letters to explore Hansberry’s publicly
constructed rhetorical voice for its articulations
of counterhegemonic perspectives on sexuality,
race, gender, and class. She charges rhetorical
scholars to adopt a similar “historically grounded
intersectional perspective that denies no question
its due.”14 Similarly, Olsen discusses how Audre
Lorde’s discourse is exemplar of traumatic styles
in public address, which she defines as the styles
Skipping ahead about one hundred years, Eric
King Watts explores the relationship between
queer voice and African American ethos during
the Harlem Renaissance. Explicating the ways
in which, in spite of Harlem being revered as an
African American homeland, New Negro politics
were inhospitable toward the cultivation of a
black gay home and queer voices, Watts issues
“a call of conscience” to rhetorical critics, “for
if black queer voices are to be moved out of the
recesses of the imaginary in African American
public speech, our social body must not cease to
hear such cries.”11 Public Address: Sexualities in American Historical
Discourse (Columbia, University of South Carolina Press,
2007), p. 190.
12
This argument is reminiscent of Ono and Sloop’s
in “The Critique of Vernacular Discourse,” in which they
claim that vernacular discourse isn’t always libratory.
(John M. Sloop and Kent A. Ono (1995), “The Critique of
Vernacular Discourse.” Communication Monographs, 62,
19-46.)
9
Julie M. Thompson, “Counter-Racist Quare Public
Address Studies,” in Queering Public Address: Sexualities
in American Historical Discourse (Columbia, University
of South Carolina Press, 2007), p. 140.
13
Robert Alan Brookey, “Speak Up! I Can’t Queer
You!” in Queering Public Address: Sexualities in American
10
John M. Sloop, “Lucy Lobdell’s Queer
Circumstances,” in Queering Public Address: Sexualities
in American Historical Discourse (Columbia, University
of South Carolina Press, 2007), p. 162.
11
14
Lisbeth Lipari, “The Rhetoric of Intersectionality,”
Eric King Watts, “Queer Harlem,” in Queering
78
Volume 5: 2008
of relatively vulnerable populations. He charges
critics to pay attention “to a wealth of typically
omitted or peripheral concepts in previous
explorations of style . . . such concepts include
silence and silencing, discursive amnesia and
public memory loss, intersectionality, marginality
and centrality.” 15 He hopes his discussion
indicates his deep ambivalence about both the
pitfalls and promise of queer public address
projects, because “they entail significant risks
even as they advance exciting possibilities.”16
to be considered cautiously and critically.
Opposition to queer impoverishment
within public address, if it is to intervene
meaningfully, needs to be revelatory of
discipline and complicity, what has been said
and not said, and how the history of American
public address—the contexts, modes, and
products of historical discourse, as well as
the academic contexts, modes, and products
of historical discourse—has or has not been
spoken.18
After reading QPA, I, along with Morris, am
struck by the figures that constitute the subjects
of the various essays—“desirable figures we
might engage as reflections and refutations of
ourselves and our communities, invited by their
seductions (and our own), which suggests that
they might indeed be suitable, available, for the
taking.”17 However, while I was often engrossed
by the volume’s treatment of queer specters, I fear,
again along with Morris, tokenism. Therefore, I
begrudgingly have to contend that, in toto, QPA
meets only halfway its overarching objective,
which Morris outlines in his introduction,
complete with caveat:
Token voices, however heartening, need
At times,19 QPA smacked of tokenism,20 not
only in terms of the historical figures chosen,
but argument as well. Most grating on me and
certainly seemingly uncognizant of Morris’
warning to not merely photocopy academic
scripts were the discussions of pluralism and
intersectionality. While I respect and admittedly
champion these ideals in my own work, I was
disappointed that though claiming to, some
of the voices in QPA did not bring anything
groundbreaking to these theoretical tables. In
spite of this proviso, the overall experience I
gleaned from reading and reviewing QPA was
both pleasant and informative. For queers, critics,
and otherwise alike, this volume of collected
essays on queer(ing) public address can “tell us
much about our past and the challenges of our
present and future.”21
15
His list doesn’t stop there, but quoting it at
length seemed excessive and unnecessary. It also includes
“symbolic matrices, identification and essentialism,
symbolic fragmentation and appropriation, double and
multiple consciousness, embodiment, performatives, and
enactment, complicity or collusion, and double binds,
paradoxes, and quandaries.” Lester C. Olsen, “Traumatic
Styles in Public Address: Audre Lorde’s Discourse as
Exemplar,” in Queering Public Address: Sexualities in
American Historical Discourse (Columbia, University of
South Carolina Press, 2007), p. 250, 251.
18
Press, 2007), p. 4.
19
Here I’ll offer my own caveat—not all times. At
many points during my review, I was struck by the depth
of scholarship.
16
Lester C. Olsen, “Traumatic Styles in Public
Address: Audre Lorde’s Discourse as Exemplar,” in
Queering Public Address: Sexualities in American
20
Dana L. Cloud exhumed this concept in
“Hegemony or Concordance? The Rhetoric of Tokenism
in ‘Oprah’ Winfrey’s Rags-to-Riches Biography.” (1996).
Critical Studies in Mass Communication, 13, 155-137.
17
Press, 2007), p. 10-11.
21
Press, 2007), p. 13.
79
2008-2009 Call for Papers
General Call
As always, RMCR seeks substantive manuscripts examining any disciplinary topic in communication
from any epistemological and methodological approach. RMCR supports scholarship that explores a
variety of topic areas, issues of methodology, pedagogical practices, the state of the discipline, higher
education, etc. We also publish manuscripts that are resources for future scholarship such as analytical
literature reviews and annotated bibliographies. In particular, RMCR solicits submissions that authors
have presented at local, regional, and national conferences, who seek to move their essays from the
conference level to publication. Our mission at RMCR is to fill the space between convention papers and
our national and regional disciplinary journals. RMCR is going to a rolling publication process, which
means that we will electronically publish articles as they are ready starting in September 2008.
This Graduate Student Life
“This Graduate Student Life: Commentary and Community” is a regularly featured column about
the experiences and challenges of graduate life. We are inviting students to submit essays that explore
any issue of interests to scholars entering the discipline. Past columns have ranged broadly, including
conversations regarding activism, the publication process (from a graduate student perspective), and
negotiations of gender in graduate school both in terms of teaching and articulating one’s identity in
the academic community. RMCR invites proposals or essays that examine similar issues of relevance
to graduate students and offer insights grounded in personal experiences and/or empirical research.
Graduate Student Life forum, completed essays and/or proposals (which should include a 500-700
word synopsis of the planned essay) should be submitted to Autumn Garrison (autumngarrison@
gmail.com). For more information, please contact Autumn. Additionally, RMCR accepts proposals
on a rolling basis for future editions of This Graduate Student Life. Please visit our archives (www.
rmcr.utah.edu) to read previously published Graduate Life pieces.
Special Sections and Alternative Scholarship
RMCR is pleased to announce that it seeks nontraditional forms of scholarship to broaden the scope
of the journal and to address a growing enthusiasm for technological innovations in the communication
discipline. The electronic format of the journal offers an outlet for a wide range of submissions. Scholars
should consider the full spectrum of critically informed creative possibilities that online publishing
can offer. Works that would serve graduate students as beginning scholars and teachers are sought.
Examples include recorded technologically enhanced performance pieces, linear and interactive
documentaries, e-games, interactive websites, visual and digital rhetoric.
Given the innovative nature of such submissions, traditional review processes may not apply.
RMCR will work with the author/developer to ensure an impartial review of the project. All entries
and suggestions should be directed to the special sections editor, Rulon Wood, via email: rulon.wood@
utah.edu.
Book Reviews
RMCR currently seeks reviewers and suggested books (or other texts) for review in all areas of
communication studies. We are interested in forthcoming or recently published books that address
significant issues and promise to make important contributions to any of the following areas:
80
Volume 5: 2008
communication theory, cultural studies, rhetorical theory and criticism, qualitative and quantitative
research methods, interpersonal, small group, intercultural, nonverbal, organizational, political, health,
and mass communication.
The editorial board encourages authors and publishers to send forthcoming books to our editorial
board or to inquire about submitting potential reviews. Submissions should include all relevant
bibliographic information, a brief statement that describes the significance of the book related to the
study of communication, basic information pertaining to publication, and a critical discussion of the
text’s central claim(s). For more information or to submit proposals please contact Autumn Garrison,
at [email protected].
Reviewers
In addition to quality submissions, RMCR also seeks qualified graduate students to review incoming
submissions. Applicants should possess a solid command of a communication sub-discipline and
methodology as well as the desire to gain experience in reviewing and editing. RMCR is dedicated to
the success and advancement of its graduate colleagues. Please complete the Reviewer Contact form
found on our website (www.rmcr.utah.edu) and forward the application along with your Curriculum
Vita to the new Editor ([email protected]).
Editorial Policy
RMCR is a blind, peer-reviewed, graduate student journal produced on a rolling basis, which is
dedicated to supporting and publishing quality graduate work. RMCR accepts and reviews manuscripts
regardless of subdiscipline or methodology. All submissions should conform to APA, MLA, or Chicago
style format and must have a current graduate student as the first author. Please follow the guidelines
for submission located under “Style Requirements” listed on our website (www.rmcr.utah.edu).
Samantha Senda-Cook
Editor until August 2008
Autumn Garrison
Editor after August 2008
Rulon Wood
Special Sections Editor
Nicholas Russell
Book Review Editor
Daren Brabham
Forum Specialist Editor
Acknowledgments:
Thank you to the reviewers who carefully contributed to the pieces in this issue. RMCR would
also like to thank Rulon Wood for his formatting and editorial services.
81

- Greg O`Toole

Transcription

Similar documents

Final Fantasy VII Piano Collections

www.moe.gov.om

sports splash pots - Gila River Casinos

2012 - 2013 - America`s Television Network

Noise Trade Company

SDASA PRETORIA CHAPTER

Paul Oakenfold One Sheet

Kh.Naranjargal Globe International Empowering Rural Business

INTERNATIONALLY ACCLAIMED GUITARIST FOR SARAH