Our Pet Goat . . .

We probably would have started this blog much sooner . . . but try as we might, we simply couldn't come up with a good name that captured both the content and the spirit of rhetorical criticism that we had in mind to share with others. And for two rhetoric wonks like us, both usually good at naming things, this was a mighty frustrating fail at our craft.

After another fruitless phone call on the issue, I told @coviner to keep working on his research while I grabbed some dinner and did some more brainstorming with our Debate Coach and friend, Greg, who is also very creative and witty. Knowing Greg's love for trivia team names that involve various versions of "the goat", @coviner immediately said, "no goats" - a rule that I promptly shared with Greg. We had a good laugh at this, as friends do, and then settled down to dinner and brainstorming.

At some point, Greg jokingly complained about the "no goats" rule, and I jokingly suggested we just call it "rhetoric goat" . . . at which point we both stopped and looked at each other: Hey, yeah . . . that actually works!

After a quick search of "goats" on Wikipedia to consider more carefully the symbolic connotations of our new name, we became even more enthusiastic about the idea, so we made the pitch to Eric via text message. We accurately predicted that he would initially reject it, but then warm to the idea as he thought it through. And sure enough, he did: "I make really bad rules. I like it."

And thus, "The Rhetoric Goat" was born.

What sold us on the idea was reading about the diet and behavior of goats, which brought to mind some similar characteristics of the academic "diet" and behavior of rhetorical critics.

"Goats are extremely curious and intelligent. . . They are also known for escaping their pens. Goats will test fences, either intentionally or simply because they are handy to climb on. If any of the fencing can be spread, pushed over or down, or otherwise be overcome, the goats will escape. Being very intelligent, once a weakness in the fence has been discovered, it will be exploited repeatedly.
Goats have an intensely inquisitive and intelligent nature: they will explore anything new or unfamiliar in their surroundings . . .This is why they investigate items such as buttons, camera cases or clothing (and many other things besides) by nibbling at them, occasionally even eating them." (Wikipedia)

Rhetorical critics are likewise curious, intelligent, and inquisitive . . . and not easily held captive by mindless convention. The world of rhetoric is enormous, and far too interesting for a critic to remain comfortably tethered in one place for very long. Studying any and all forms of human communication and public discourse from political oratory to comic books, rhetorical critics are always exploring and "nibbling" the communication, events, and artifacts of our culture, searching for critical insight about the rhetorical habits and practices of what Kenneth Burke called "the symbol using, mis-using animal."

Rhetoric has also been personified throughout the ages as "the harlot of the arts," - the beautiful, fascinating, promiscuous, untethered, and dangerously irresistible temptress - impossible to tame or control - yet delightful to play with. This reflects the observation of Aristotle who noted, "rhetoric... belongs to no particular science," because every field of human endeavor involves rhetorical communication.

Much like the goat, you can't keep dame rhetoric in a cage . . . she's just not that kind of girl.

And thus, like the unconventional, promiscuous, curious goat that nibbles everything and inevitably escapes conventional constraints, the rhetorical critic is inquisitive and wide-ranging in pursuit of greater knowledge of, and practical skills for, our daily rhetorical lives. We take the world as it comes, but also seek to make it better by giving back the milk of our research and critical insight to our communities as practical nutrition for greater civic engagement and empowerment.

Okay, that's probably going WAY too far with this metaphor, but you get the idea. Rhetorical critics study anything and everything human and rhetorical. We're curious and inquisitive. We're not picky. We're prolific and (academically) promiscuous. We don't like cages. We're useful. And we're definitely ready and able to butt heads with folks when necessary.

In many ways, we're simply a lot like goats.

My colleague @alechosterman suggested that we call the blog "The rhetorical goad," following Burke's observation that the "symbol-using, mis-using animal" is always "goaded by the spirit of hierarchy, and rotten with perfection." My friend @designtwit seconded this suggestion because of the vital, active connotations of the word "goad" which you can see here.

But in the end, we decided to keep the goat. We like it.

Additionally, if you Google "rhetoric goat", as I did this evening, you'll also find a surprisingly wonderful history of this symbolic association in diverse cultural places. So that's neat, too.

And if nothing else, this title is a way for us to pay tribute to Greg, our mutual mentor, friend, and goat enthusiast, who brought us together when he enrolled @coviner in my rhetoric class last spring.