MIAMI UNIVERSITY The Graduate School
Certificate for Approving the Dissertation
We hereby approve the Dissertation
of
Renea Carol Frey
Candidate for the Degree
Doctor of Philosophy
______James Porter, Director
______Katharine Ronald, Reader
______Jason Palmeri, Reader
______P. Renee Baernstein, Graduate School Representative
ABSTRACT
SPEAKING TRUTH TO POWER: RECOVERING A RHETORICAL THEORY OF PARRHESIA
by
Renea C. Frey
This dissertation examines the history, genealogy, and application of parrhesia, the rhetorical strategy of speaking truth to power that disrupts the status quo and works to realign power dynamics. Parrhesia is invoked when rhetors act out in ways that are potentially dangerous to their own safety but do so in service of deeply held truth values that may be more important to articulate than the rhetor’s own life or safety. My dissertation provides a framework to understand parrhesiastic acts and contextualize them within a larger social network where such acts serve to create disruptions and fissures within the field of conventional social practice. Beginning with the origins of parrhesia—in classical rhetoric with democracy in 4th century BCE Athens—this work traces the development of parrhesia as a political, philosophical, and religious practice over the next 800 years by examining primary sources (e.g. extant speeches, letters, biblical texts, and classic rhetoric manuals) as well as secondary scholarship and current cross-disciplinary research. Additionally, this dissertation questions how parrhesia is remediated across oral, print, and digital mediums and how distribution and circulation are affected by examining specific moments of transition in methods of delivery, such as the move from oral culture to print in the nineteenth century and the affordances of contemporary digital technologies. To do this I will discuss two extended examples of parrhesia-in-action: the nineteenth century women’s right activist Matilda Gage and the more recent actions of Edward Snowden. Why recover parrhesia? Because parrhesia is an important strategy for marginalized and otherwise silenced groups who must often transgress social boundaries in order to speak out at all. This rhetorical theory provides a framework to understand, analyze, and name parrhesiastic acts that disrupt conventional power structures to enact social change and to trace the networked effects of these acts of resistance.
SPEAKING TRUTH TO POWER: RECOVERING A RHETORICAL THEORY OF PARRHESIA
A DISSERTATION
Presented to the Faculty of
Miami University in partial
fulfillment of the requirements
for the degree of
Doctor of Philosophy
Department of English
by
Renea C. Frey
The Graduate School Miami University Oxford, Ohio
2015
Dissertation Director: James Porter
©
Renea Carol Frey
2015
TABLE OF CONTENTS
List of Figures ……………………………………………………………………………….… iv
Dedication ………………………………………………………………………………….…... v
Acknowledgements …………………………………………………………………………….. vi
Introduction
Chapter 1: Definition, Scope, and Scholarship: An Overview of Parrhesia ………………….…. 1
Section One: Oral Cultural and Parrhesia: Historic Perspectives ………………...…….… 24
Chapter 2: Historicizing Parrhesia: Athenian Democracy and Philosophy ………………....… 28
Chapter 3: Beyond Athens: Parrhesia and the Roman Republic ………………………...…….. 51
Chapter 4: Parrhesia and Autocracy: Roman Empire and Early Christian Eras ….…………..... 70
Section Two: Rhetorical Theory of Parrhesia ……………………………………...……...... 86
Chapter 5: Tracing Disruption: A Rhetorical Theory of Parrhesia …………………………..… 89
Section Three: Print Culture and Parrhesia ………………………………………………. 117
Chapter 6: Print Culture and Publics: The Rise of Women’s Literacy ……………………….. 121
Chapter 7: Matilda Gage: A Nineteenth Century Parrhesiastes ……………………….…….... 128
Section Four: Parrhesia in Digital Spaces ……………………..…………………………... 143
Chapter 8: Distribution and Circulation in Publics of Surveillance…………………………... 147
Chapter 9: Truth Telling in Digital Environments: Edward Snowden and the NSA …………. 160
Conclusion
Chapter 10: Implications, Applications, and Conclusions ………………………………….… 185
Appendix ……………………………………………………………………………………… 194
Works Cited …………………………………………………………………………………... 198
iii
LIST OF FIGURES
Figure 1 …………………………………………………………………………………..……… 1
Figure 2 ………………………………………………………………………………………… 91
Figure 3 ………………………………………………………………………………………… 92
Figure 4 ………………………………………………………………………………………… 98
Figure 5 …………………………………………………………………………………..…… 102
Figure 6 …………………………………………………………………………………..…… 109
Figure 7 …………………………………………………………………………………..…… 133
Figure 8 …………………………………………………………………………………..…… 138
Figure 9 …………………………………………………………………………………..…… 172
Figure 10 ………………………………………………………………………………..…….. 177
Figure 11 …………………………………………………………………………………..….. 188
iv DEDICATION
I dedicate this dissertation to my family— My husband Robert Dorsey, whose constant support and interest in my project made it possible to think through my ideas at the beginning (even in the middle of the night) and his invaluable proofreading skills helped me polish those ideas at the end… My parents, Beatrice and Kenny Frey, who watched my kids, made sure I didn’t starve, gave me a quiet place to work, and cheered me on through many days and nights of research and writing…. My children, Maitreya, Aeliana, and Branneth, who inspired me to start this work in the first place, who were patient with how absent I was from their lives at times, and for their many quick visits to my upstairs office to offer love and support… Without your support and encouragement this work would not have been possible.
v ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
This dissertation, like all large research projects, is the result of an entire network of scholars and mentors who supported, encouraged, and guided this work from before it began until its completion. James Porter, my dissertation committee chair and director, has been invaluable in this project, which first began as a short two-page assignment for his Rhetoric History and Theory course at Miami University, wherein I first stumbled upon the term parrhesia. His prompt, direct, and deeply thought-provoking feedback, along with his consistent confidence in and enthusiasm for my work, has made this project possible and even enjoyable. I am grateful to Jason Palmeri, who sympathetically listened to my various apprehensions and offered solid advice on both my work and my process, as well as the reassurance that I would, in fact, make it through. I thank Katherine Ronald for her expertise, good humor, wisdom, reassurance, and friendship, and for agreeing to take on another PhD candidate to mentor when timing and professional exigencies made that a potentially taxing commitment. I appreciate Renee Baernstein, whose historic expertise and willingness to read and thoughtfully comment upon research from a disparate field of study has led me to think about my work differently, and to frame my writing in ways that might be interesting and useful to scholars beyond the field of Composition and Rhetoric. I am grateful to Miami University and the English Department for giving me the opportunity to pursue my studies and for the many brilliant scholars with whom I have had the privilege to work during my time in the PhD program. Every course expanded my knowledge and allowed me the intellectual freedom to pursue what interested me most, a process that culminated in this dissertation. This work would not be possible without the invaluable knowledge gained from faculty including LuMing Mao, Heidi McKee, Michele Simmons, John Heyda, Cynthia Lewiecki-Wilson, and all other faculty and staff at Miami University with whom I have had the rewarding experience of working. I also want to thank the graduate students in the English department at Miami, whose ideas, conversations, and feedback helped support this project and make it possible. The collegial atmosphere at Miami made this work rewarding and enjoyable and I am grateful for the willingness of everyone in sharing their thoughts, expertise, and support with fellow graduate students. And a special thanks to my good friend Monica Miller, who took this graduate school adventure at the same time, though in a different place, than I did. Her advice and reassurance supported me through many rough times, and her visits offered a friend to work alongside, as well as one to have fun with once the work was finished. I look forward to the coming years with such intelligent, creative colleagues, wherever we may all find ourselves.
vi
Chapter 1 Definition, Scope, and Scholarship: An Overview of Parrhesia
Figure 1 The anonymous Tank Man faces down a row of tanks
This famous photograph1 depicts the anonymous protester who came to be know as “Tank Man,” an unarmed Chinese citizen who stepped in front of a row of tanks and stopped their forward progress at great risk to himself. This event occurred on June 5, 1989, the day after the Tiananmen Square Massacre where the Chinese government killed or arrested thousands of pro-democracy protesters.2 Though journalists were prohibited from covering any of the crackdowns on the protests, journalists like Jeff Widener, Charlie Cole, and Stuart Franklin managed to capture compelling images of Tank Man as he faced down a line of tanks the day after the massacre, and later smuggle this film out of China under the threat of arrest and imprisonment. In April of 1998, Time magazine would include Tank Man as one of the top one hundred most important people in the century, showing the ongoing power and relevance of his actions almost a decade later. What did this anonymous protestor do that made his actions so compelling? Why is the image of his risky protest so powerful, even now, decades later? And if we think about it, there are more people who likewise stood up against overwhelming power, at great risks to themselves, in order to speak out, who we continue to remember as well. People such as Rosa Parks, who refused to sit in the back of the bus in Montgomery, Alabama; Nelson Mandela’s resistance of apartheid which led to twenty-seven years of imprisonment; Susan B. Anthony who insisted upon voting in 1872, even though it was illegal and led to her arrest; Mahatma Gandhi’s
1 Photo credit: Jeff Widener of the Associated Press, 1989. 2 Conclusive numbers have never been released and sources vary from thousands of protestors killed to assertions by the Chinese Government which claim that “injuries exceeded 3,000 and that over 200 individuals, including 36 university students, were killed that night” (US Department of State). Many of those arrested, especially workers (as opposed to more affluent students) were later executed.
1 leadership and enactment of non-violent protests to demand independence for India; and many, many more. What do these people and events have in common? And how can we understand the effects of these actions upon a larger society? What do we even call these risky acts of resistance so that we can discuss, analyze, and possibly promote daring acts of speaking truth to power? This dissertation seeks to name these acts for what they are—parrhesia3—and to propose a theory of rhetoric based upon that concept to create a way of looking at and analyzing disruptive rhetorical acts that challenge hierarchy and power inequalities, often at great risk to the rhetor. The term parrhesia arose contemporaneously with the concepts of democracy and rhetoric in fourth and fifth century BCE Athens and was initially considered to be intricately interwoven with, and necessary to, these related concepts. I will trace the history and use of parrhesia from ancient Athenian democracy, through the Roman Republic, and to the early Church where it was first celebrated, and then demonized, as categories of heresy and orthodoxy separated that which was acceptable (obedience/orthodoxy) from that which was not (resistance/heresy). While the term parrhesia is not commonly used in current vernacular speech, the fact that we continue to remember and valorize those who risk their safety to resist oppression demonstrates the ongoing importance of this concept to Western ideology and practice. In this study, I hope to show how these risky acts of resistance have become an integral part of the stories we tell about ourselves as a culture and how these moments help to shape not only our self-conception, but also our institutions, political practices, and ongoing struggles for greater equality, inclusion, and sustainability. Additionally, rather than simply looking at the individual acts of specific people who ostensibly behave independently, this work will outline an analytic framework—a rhetorical theory of parrhesia—that can be applied to various sites for the purpose of understanding the specific qualities of these moments of resistance and putting them in dialogue with one another to more fully understand the cumulative effects of multiple moments of resistance to power. In this way, we might be able to more clearly see, and more effectively enact, resistance to overwhelming forces of power that oppress, silence, and marginalize great portions of our population. In this introduction, I will offer definitions of parrhesia and give a survey of the complex history of the term, as well as the relationship of parrhesia to rhetoric. After reviewing various definitions and recent scholarship that pertains to studies of parrhesia, I will explain the frameworks I am using to understand how parrhesia has worked in different historical moments, and how it might function in our current and future environments to disrupt conventional power relationships. Because parrhesia is often discussed in terms of public and private uses, I will give a brief introduction to theories of the public sphere, as well as situate my use of these terms within that. In addition to looking at the concept of parrhesia itself, this dissertation will also cover how parrhesia is delivered through various mediums—oral, print, and digital—and the
3 For the sake of clarity, I will italicize potentially unfamiliar words in Greek or Latin the first time they occur, but will not continue to italicize these words after the first time they appear. For certain rhetorical terms that are already familiar to my audience, such as ethos, logos, pathos, and kairos, I will not italicize these at all. However, when directly quoting the words of others, I will keep their quotes exactly as they appear in the original text. Some authors italicize these words and others do not, and there is some variation in spelling, even, in the word parrhesia. In an effort to remain consistent and accurate to the texts I quote, I will leave these quotes exactly the way their authors intended.
2 ways in which these factors affect the perception and possible impact of parrhesiastic action over time and across place. Once I have outlined these theoretical frames, I will give a synopsis of each section and chapter, showing how the discussion of parrhesia will unfold from ancient Athenian democracy and oral culture, through print culture as represented by Matilda Gage and the American women’s suffrage movement in the late nineteenth century, to Edward Snowden in the present digital age. Through this work, I hope to demonstrate how parrhesia has, and continues to have, an integral place in Western ideology and practice, and to foreground the importance of rhetorical analysis to more fully understand and effectively enact these disruptive acts of resistance.
Parrhesia: Definitions and Scholarship In its simplest terms, parrhesia is translated as “freedom of speech.” However, parrhesia connotes more than that—it is the act of speaking truth to power, when a deeply held truth value is at stake, even when the act of speaking out is risky for the speaker. More specifically, it can be defined as arising etymologically from "’parrhesiazesthai’ [which] means “to say everything— from ‘pan’ (everything) and ‘rhema’ (that which is said)” (Foucault Fearless 12). Thus, parrhesia is a type of speech that moves beyond typical discursive limits, speaking outside of that which typically is or can be said. Power relations are implicit in this term as the type of free speech connoted is one where the parrhesiastes speaks freely in situations where doing so may be dangerous to his or her well being, where that which is spoken in some way threatens the majority. Thus, parrhesia is linked to values such as duty, freedom, social criticism, leadership, resistance, and courage in the face of danger that make it distinct from other forms of speaking. Parrhesia is discussed in several ancient rhetorical texts with varying degrees of attention. Though it is a term that has largely fallen out of common usage, it was once associated with rhetorical theory and can still be found in some rhetorical glossaries, handbooks, and dictionaries. Though it is often described as free speech, in a current online encyclopedia of rhetorical terms, it is presented as a means “to speak candidly or to ask forgiveness for so speaking [which is] sometimes considered a vice” (Silva Rhetoricae). In the anonymously written Rhetorica ad Herennium, a Latin rhetorical text from the first century BCE, the author discusses the act of “talking before those to whom we owe reverence or fear [where] we yet exercise our right to speak out, because we seem justified in reprehending them,” though a few lines later instructions are given for how to mitigate this castigation by following it with praise (IV.47-50). In this description, there seems to be a subtle distinction between speaking out freely with no concern for consequences versus speaking in such a way, but then following it with the ameliorating balm of flattery. As I will discuss in Chapter 3, this likely reflects the time and political climate in which the author was writing, as the Roman Republic was in a state of decline and sliding toward autocracy, thus the risks for speaking became quite risky, as was the case with Cicero. Quintilian, in the first century CE, likewise discusses free speech, though he distinguishes between a figure of speech that appears to be frank speaking and a more genuine form reminiscent of the way parrhesia was conceived of in democratic forums. In book VII of Institutio Oratoria, he delineates between exclamatio, which is a figure that is “simulated and artfully designed” as opposed to “exclamations [that] are genuine.” This latter type of speech he designates “free speech, which Cornificius calls licence and the Greeks παῤῥησία (parrhesia)” (IV.2). Quintilian clearly discerns between a rhetorical figure and this latter type of speaking asking, “For what has less of the figure about it than true freedom?” (IV.2). This short passage
3 shows the complex relationship between parrhesia and rhetoric, as well as the complications in translating the term parrhesia into Latin. Here, Quintilian uses the term licentia (which connotes unrestrained or licentious behavior) to stand in for the concept of parrhesia, but as I will discuss in Chapter 3, though licentia was sometimes used in this context, libertas (which connotes freedom and liberty) was the more common way of expressing parrhesia in Latin texts. This tension between parrhesia as a license for outrageous, extraneous behavior versus parrhesia as an exalted and necessary virtue is one that will continue through this study, manifesting in a variety of ways throughout parrhesia’s long and complex history. Additionally, because both Quintilian and Rhetorica ad Herennium use the term licentia as the term for translating parrhesia, licentia will appear more often in subsequent literature in the field of rhetoric (e.g. rhetorical handbooks) for the next several centuries, despite the fact that libertas was the more common translation of parrhesia in the classical age. This, too, will have an effect upon the perception of parrhesia as it pertains to rhetoric through the ages, so that its original roots in frank, risky speech within the context of Athenian democracy is sometimes overlooked or imprecisely understood. For instance, in a textbook about rhetorical style published in 2011, the author lists the heading “Frankness of Speech” as licentia, and then goes on to focus on solely that definition, attempting to translate the meaning mentioned in Rhetorica ad Herennium back to Athens and parrhesia, rather than the other way around (Fahnestock 296-7). In this textbook, parrhesia is covered only as a figure of speech, as a way of apologetically critiquing a stronger power, rather than the fearless, risky speech intended by democratic parrhesiastic action. Somewhat ironically, the author also erroneously attributes authorship of Rhetorica ad Herennium to Cicero4 who, as we will see in Chapter 3, viewed parrhesia as libertas, a right of the Roman citizen, and spoke his mind against stronger authorities to the extent that his words eventually cost him his life. Cicero himself was known as a parrhesiastes by Greek speaking members of the Roman Republic (and later Empire) and he modeled his orations after Demosthenes and Pericles, both of whom are strongly associated with parrhesia in the classic Greek sense. This confusion surrounding the term is understandable, given the complicated history of parrhesia and the lack of a directly translatable word in other languages. However, it also points to the importance of recovering and discussing this term more fully in rhetorical scholarship as parrhesia describes a particularly powerful act of resistance to power, one that needs further analysis and attention in order to address the gross inequalities of power with which the world is confronted today. This is not to say that parrhesia has not received scholarly attention in recent years, as several studies have examined the history or use of parrhesia in various contexts. However, none of these works look at the cumulative networked effects of parrhesia across time and place while at the same time highlighting the inter-relationality between parrhesia, rhetoric, and democracy. Additionally, these studies do not necessarily seek to analyze the unique rhetorical affects of parrhesia in its immediate situation and then embed it within a longstanding rhetorical tradition, which is the focus and goal of this study. Perhaps the most famous and influential treatment of parrhesia is the study conducted by Michel Foucault in the last years of his life. Fearless Speech, which was published in 2001 based upon his lectures at Berkeley in the fall of 1983, was the first volume to come out describing his research on parrhesia. His discussion of parrhesia continues in the lectures he gave in the last two
4 Rhetorica ad Herennium was once thought to be authored by Cicero, but this misconception has largely been addressed and corrected in the field of rhetorical studies.
4 years of his life, and The Government of Self and Others and The Government of Self and Others II: The Courage of Truth transcribe the lectures Foucault conducted on the topic of parrhesia at the College de France from 1982-83 and 1983-84 respectively. These lectures, however, were not available as published books in English until 2011 and 2012, so these more in-depth works were only newly available at the beginning of this project. In these works, Foucault goes into greater detail about the history and uses of parrhesia throughout the Greco-Roman world, its implications to the development of democracy and the ethical subject, as well as its complicated relationship to rhetoric. In The Government of Self and Others, Foucault describes parrhesia in the following manner, showing the complex ways in which parrhesia might be understood: One of the original meanings of the Greek word parresia is to ‘say everything,’ but in fact it is much more frequently translated as free-spokenness (franc-parler), free speech, etcetera. You recall that this notion of parresia, which was important in practices of spiritual direction, was a rich, ambiguous, and difficult notion, particularly insofar as it designated a virtue, a quality (some people have parresia and others do not); a duty (one must really be able to demonstrate parresia, specially in certain cases and situations); and a technique, a process (some people know how to use parresia and others do not)… In other words, parresia is a virtue, duty, and technique which should be found in the person who spiritually directs others and helps them to constitute their relationship to self. (43) Foucault traces the history of parrhesia, beginning with the mention and treatment of the term in Euripides in the fifth century BCE, following an historic trajectory that is echoed in other scholarly studies of the term. Foucault, however, goes into great depth, performing very close readings of texts that mention parrhesia, and also frames his discussion within larger socio- cultural events and forces that were contemporaneous with the texts he describes. Foucault, like other researchers on this topic, also notes the transition of parrhesia from a public/political practice to more of a private/philosophical one around the time of Plato, a transition that will be described in greater detail in Chapter 2. Notably for Foucault, he considered parrhesia to be “true discourse in the political realm,” giving parrhesia an ethically lofty conceptual place in his research (Courage 6). From his writing, it is clear that Foucault views parrhesia as the force that potentially resists, questions, calls out, and works to realign power, though he also notes that the historic ways in which parrhesia operated are not necessarily applicable to current socio-political applications in precisely corresponding ways. Nevertheless, it is significant that he spent the last few years of his life focused almost solely on researching and lecturing about parrhesia, though unfortunately died before he had the opportunity to write extensively on the topic or to incorporate it into his more well-known theories of power. Other researchers, some of whom draw upon Foucault and others who do not, have dedicated scholarly inquiry into parrhesia across a variety of disciplines. In the field of Political Science, Elizabeth Markovitz examines the tradition of parrhesia in Western culture, noting that while it seems that it would pose a workable democratic ideal for political discourse, it has turned into a trope of sincerity that has tamed truthfulness. Going back to ancient Athenian democracy and the writings of Plato, Markovitz identifies two qualities—accountability and citizen dignity—as central aspects of Athenian politics and discourse, leading to “a spirit of civic-mindedness among the Athenian citizen body” (49-54). In this context, truthfulness was considered imperative and various legal measures were put into place in order to ensure the sincerity of speakers. In a political system where spoken language was the primary medium of communication and decision making, “the vagaries of language were linked to the success of the
5 democracy” and “the cherished isegoria5 of Athenian citizens would be replaced by a term that emphasized not just the right to speak, but also a duty to speak the truth” (64-5). Markovitz defines parrhesia as “the speech of a person who spoke without reservation, ornament, or regard for personal safety. To have the quality of parrhesia, a speech must criticize someone who has the power to somehow injure the speaker” and that though there were political, legal, and personal risks undertaken by the speaker invoking parrhesia, citizens were instilled with a sense of duty to speak out in service of the community (66). While Markovitz views parrhesia in this way within the context of Athenian democracy, when she turns to contemporary examples, the practice of parrhesia seems to shift to parrhesia as merely a trope that promotes “the language of sincerity” (202). In many of the contemporary examples Markovitz uses, the speaker is calling forth an ethic of “plain-spokenness,” claiming to be sincere, and while the speakers in these situations may risk lower opinion ratings, there is no real risk involved for them—they are all speakers coming from positions of great political power who cannot enact parrhesia with their listeners because they hold the higher power position in the interaction. Sincerity is only one of the criteria for an act to be parrhesiastic, and while this is acknowledged in the discussions of Athenian democracy, there is a transition to parrhesia as being merely a rhetorical trope so that this is the only way it is represented in the discussions of contemporary uses. My treatment of parrhesia in this dissertation does not view parrhesia as a trope or rhetorical “trick,” but rather examines situations wherein the rhetor takes significant risks to speak out. Because of this distinction, my study and analysis of parrhesia in contemporary culture differs significantly from that of Markovitz. In other discussions of parrhesia in the discipline of Political Science, Sara Monoson engages an in-depth discussion of the role of frank speaking in Athenian democracy in Plato’s Democratic Entanglements: Athenian Politics and the Practice of Philosophy. Monoson describes parrhesia as “a complex idea with a long history in Greek thought. Speaking parrhesia (meta parrhesias) meant, broadly, ‘saying everything.’ More specifically, it meant speaking one’s own mind, that is, frankly saying what one thinks, and especially uttering a deserved reproach” (52). However, this free or frank speech did not equate to slanderous or audacious speech and there were rules against these practices. Rather, parrhesia was a kind of “frank speech ideally expected of [orators] in their roles as advisers to the demos” and reflected the “intellectual autonomy” of these speakers (53). Two ideas closely associated with parrhesia are criticism and truth telling, and it is the ability to speak out even amidst risk which asserts the honesty and integrity of the speaker in his ethos to the audience. Parrhesia was not merely audacious speech, but rather expressed the deeply felt issues that were at stake for the individual speaking, as well as for the audience listening, and often deciding, major and minor decisions for the polis. While Monoson’s argument primarily examines the complex, ambivalent attitude of Plato toward democracy, her focus on parrhesia is relevant to my study as it situates the conception of parrhesia within Athenian democracy. However, unlike my application, Monoson’s work does not extend the possibilities for recovering this concept and practice within contemporary society or applying the tenants of parrhesia to current rhetors. Also in the field of Political Science, Arlene Saxonhouse’s Free Speech in Ancient Athens gives a survey of the transition from earlier Greek hierarchies to Athenian democracy, highlighting the tension between parrhesia (freedom of speech) and aidos (shame). In the context of Athenian democracy, freedom of speech was not imagined as a sacred right of the individual,
5 The equal right for all citizens to speak.
6 but rather as a duty to the state to speak freely for the good of the collective. People who spoke out in this manner had to be both daring and courageous to do so, as there could be consequences if their message was not well received, and they also took a risk by exposing their true thoughts, by making the private public. In this regard, “parrhesia in this sense of a certain shamelessness emphasizes the equality of the democratic system where speech…entails the effort to uncover the truth on the par of each citizen. Parrhesia is, we can say, the democratic practice of shamelessness” (88-89). Put in opposition to rhetoric, which is associated here with “shading” one’s own thoughts or outright deception, the importance of parrhesia was nevertheless espoused by fourth century BCE orators who decried the practices of “deceptive oratory and flattering demagoguery” (88-92). Additionally, Saxonhouse cites other orators for whom parrhesia “exists in the vision of these orators for the sake of the city. The one whose actions and character demonstrate a supposed incapacity to add to the welfare of the common… can make no claim to the practice of parrhesia” though the fact that these orators, too, were using rhetorical means to discuss their point is not taken up (96). Saxonhouse notes that parrhesia was not a guaranteed right of the citizen and could be taken away due to various crimes or statuses, i.e., slaves, women, and foreigners could not practice parrhesia in the Assembly, and the right of parrhesia could be revoked for certain crimes (96). There is, however, some ambivalence about parrhesia; as pointed out by some texts, anyone could speak, for good or ill, thus there is an “undercurrent of the potential harm that may come from the freedom for all to speak frankly” (99). The seeming paradox of the trial of Socrates exemplifies the tension between speaking freely and shame where “parrhesia in its capacity of revealing denies the division between public and private, what is shared and what is hidden,” so that Socrates as a visible man does not demonstrate community standards of piety toward the gods, nor suitable deference for traditions or institutions, and because of this is a threat to Athenian democracy. Saxonhouse’s work is beneficial to understanding the tensions and dangers of speaking parrhesiastically in ancient Athens and helps to shed light on why a culture that valued parrhesia would also condemn a man like Socrates. This is significant because, as will be discussed more fully in Chapter 2, the shift in the perception of parrhesia from being a public/political practice to one that is more private/philosophical is evidenced in the writings of Plato as it pertains to Socrates. However, as with most historic treatments of parrhesia in its original (Athenian democratic) context, this work does not extend the possibilities or analysis of parrhesia in contemporary environments, other than to caution that the way parrhesia was imagined in fourth century BCE Athens is not the same as current “right to free speech” discussions, as rights and individual agency are imagined differently today. The field of Classics has also provided several examples of interesting scholarship on the topic of parrhesia, including the collection by Sluiter and Rosen, Free Speech in Classical Antiquity. This anthology examines the various influences upon, developments in, and perceptions of the idea and practice of free speech during early Greek and Roman civilizations, and in the introduction, the editors note the role that both rhetoric and parrhesia played in democracy, especially beginning in the fifth century BCE. Prior to this time, rhetoric had long been the province of kings and leaders, but with the rise of democracy, more people had access to and need of rhetorical skills. Rather than putting this in opposition to parrhesia, Sluiter and Rosen claim that “rhetoric is in part the result of democratic practice, and increases in turn the importance of free speech—for it is free speech which guarantees access to the powerful instrument of language” (8). At the same time, in line with the Gorgian view that language could be as powerful as a drug, there was a danger in figuring out “whether a speaker was a courageous
7 parrhesiast, who urged his honest conviction on the Assembly, or a deceiver, who used his words as dangerous weapons of persuasion to lure the people into pernicious action” (11). Further works in this collection detail the volatile role of the crowd in oratory (Wallace, Balot, J. Roisman), the role of women in free speech (H. Roisman), the role of parrhesia in Plato and Aristotle (van Raalte, Muhern), and how free speech worked in the Roman Republic’s army (Chrissanthos). Of particular note to this overview is the work by D.M. Carter, who distinguishes between the modern idea of free speech as a right (or a negative right, the right to not be coerced to silence) with the Athenian conception that saw parrhesia as a quality of a citizen within democracy living in the state of isegoria, or equality of speech before the law. Isegoria almost always carries political connotations and contexts, whereas parrhesia can be applied to both the political and social arenas and was not considered a right so much as a duty. Parrhesia could be taken away in some cases and there were no laws protecting it as a right, or protecting the safety of those who employed it. Instead, it depended upon the confidence of the speaker to deploy it and was “a privilege that derives from one’s citizen status” though because it was “a matter of confidence, not right, it was not confined to citizens, but could be adopted by others, simply as a result of residence in Athens” (215). This distinction, echoed by Saxonhouse above, delineates between contemporary and ancient conceptions of types or rights to free speech and also shows the importance of distinguishing between parrhesia and others types of free speech. This collection, while offering a significant overview of the applications of free speech in classical antiquity does not extend any type of analysis to contemporary issues, other than to distinguish this difference. The 2009 dissertation by Dana Fields, The Rhetoric of Parrhesia in Roman Greece, gives insight into how parrhesia was discussed and conceived in the Greek-speaking Roman Empire.6 Her work is helpful in understanding how parrhesia continued to assert cultural influence after the fall of Athenian democracy, as well as how the use of the word changed depending upon political and social needs of the time, a concept relevant to my own study and application of parrhesia now. Her research affirms how parrhesia was translated into Latin texts (as libertas, licentia, candor, simplicitas) and highlights the somewhat opposing ways that parrhesia was imagined as either being the privilege of high birth (e.g., Cicero) or as only possible from positions of marginalization (the Cynics). Also, because the Roman Empire was not at all democratic, Fields’s research shows how parrhesia continued to have significance in that political climate and she asserts that, “what remains apparent is the continuing political significance of parrhesia in the Roman Empire. Frankness serves as both the mark of a free people and the touchstone by which to judge whether a ruler is an illegitimate tyrant or a true king” (108). Fields also examines the role of women in parrhesia, who at times did exercise frank speech, though only within the context of the home; women attempting to subvert those confines and express parrhesia beyond the scope of the private were considered highly threatening to the status quo (89-92). The scope of this work is particularly useful in tracing parrhesia after the fall of Athenian democracy and how it was perceived in the Roman Empire, as well as how parrhesia applies to Roman writing and figures such as Cicero, Dio Chrystom, Plutarch, and Lucian.
6 For further discussion of the uses of parrhesia in Greek territories under the rule of the Roman Empire see Evangeline Zephyr Lyons’s dissertation Hellenic Philosophers as Ambassadors to the Roman Empire: Performance, Parrhesia, and Power as well as Tim Whitmarsh’s analysis of the theme of exile in the work of the Stoic, Musonius Rufus, who invokes parrhesia as the duty to speak out from the positionality of the exile as part of his identity under Roman rule.
8 Philosophy, too, offers research into parrhesia, as several notable classic Greek philosophers were known for their parrhesiastic action. Luis E. Navia, in his works on Socrates, Antisthenes, and Diogenes, examines the works and actions of these three thinkers, who formed an alternate lineage of Socratic thought than the more conventional line of Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle. Antisthenes, who was a student of Socrates and close enough friend to be present at his death, is considered the father of the Cynics, who are known for frank, outspoken speech. Antisthenes was the teacher of Diogenes, the most infamously outrageous Cynic, and though Navia complicates the claims to direct lineage documented by Dio Chrystom and Diogenes Laertius, he nevertheless upholds the view of an alternative Socratic lineage beyond the conventional Platonic/Aristotelian line. Parrhesia is an imperative part of Cynic philosophy and practice, so that, “if we must speak, we must do it with an absolute commitment to saying it all— parrhesia—that is, speaking only the bare truth in all circumstances, with no euphemisms, deceptions, flattery, or other modes of speaking in which the truth is covered” (Navia 114). This view of parrhesia within the context of classic Greek philosophy is helpful to understanding how parrhesia was exercised philosophically, and Navia’s work complicates the idea of a split in parrhesia from the public/political to the private/philosophical, showing how, at least in the Socratic lineage that includes the Cynics, the philosophical becomes a public enactment of parrhesia, an issue covered in more detail in Chapters 2 and 5. Cornel West, too, calls upon the idea of parrhesia in Race Matters, returning to Socratic notions of frank truth telling to combat the contemporary nihilism that fuels market driven imperialism. He foregrounds the importance of protecting parrhesia in American democratic practices, especially those freedoms guaranteed by the First Amendment and a free press claiming: Democracy depends, in large part, on a free and frank press willing to speak painful truths to the public about our society… There can be no democratic paideia—the critical cultivation of an active citizenry—without democratic parrhesia—a bold and courageous press willing to speak against the misinformation and mendacities of elites. Democracy matters are in peril when the so-called free press lacks the autonomy or courage to inspire democratic energies. (39) West would like to see more parrhesiastic action in American politics and society, a reality he imagines through greater education for an informed and active citizenry. To counter the corruption of elite power, West calls for “the enactment of parrhesia—frank and fearless speech—that is the lifeblood of any democracy” (209). West’s treatment of parrhesia focuses solely on Socratic ideals of that concept, and while he mentions the “power made visible” of Greek democracy as represented by Pericles, he views Pericles as both a solidifier of democracy and an imperialist (42, 206) with no mention of that leader as enacting parrhesia himself, an assertion made by many researchers that will be examined later in Chapter 2. West’s incorporation of parrhesia as “the benchmark of any serious democratic process” (Sonoma) demonstrates how an ideal from the distant past in ancient Athens can, is, and should be very much alive in current political and social dialog and action. While West’s work is geared toward examining racial inequalities in American social and political institutions, it makes a call to action for more engagement with and enactment of parrhesia in contemporary society and suggests that American citizens today should draw upon these embedded traditions as a model for that action. Though the perspectives in this dissertation will view parrhesia in a much broader way, West’s work is in alignment with this dissertation project, which likewise seeks to draw
9 upon historically embedded ideas of parrhesia in order to understand current acts of risky truth telling.7 In addition to the research on parrhesia detailed thus far, other scholars have engaged with this concept in a variety of ways across several fields. In organizational and management studies, Karfakis and Kokkinidis examine the difference between cynic and kynic8 behaviors in the workplace, applying Foucault’s research on parrhesia to practices such as whistleblowing in modern organizations. Additionally, they show how cynicism, though it may be deployed as a means of everyday resistance by workers toward overly controlling organizational restraints, can actually more thoroughly embed a worker within that organization, whereas kynic activities “although not necessarily heroic or conscious, can be an effective practice of resistance” (342).9 In an article published in The Yale Law Journal, Jonathan Simon draws upon the practice of parrhesia as an important aspect of the 9/11 Commission, showing how this particular commission deployed parrhesia, as compared to other national commissions (e.g., the Pearl Harbor/Roberts Commission and the Warren Commission), which did little to challenge higher powers in American government. The author claims that “to a degree unprecedented in the history of federal commissions…the 9/11 Commission relied upon the power of parrhesiastic truth telling by its own members (and leaders), by some of its witnesses, and most importantly by the victims of violence to impose a measure of accountability upon the executive branch” (1423). In this instance, “victims who choose to speak parrhesiastically can destabilize political and legal authority,” a practice Simon sees as necessary to incorporate more fully into American legal institutions in order to uphold Constitutional promises (1422, 1457). In educational philosophy, Kerry Burch puts the idea of parrhesia in conversation with the democratic educational perspectives of pedagogs such as Paulo Friere and John Dewey, equating the classroom space with the idea of the public square. Drawing upon the work of West and Arendt, Burch sees pedagogical parrhesia as a way of thinking critically about political issues that creates a “holistic conception of democratic citizenship…[that]…represents a sound pedagogical principle for achieving democratic courage in action” in the classroom (80). Glenn Holland, who studies parrhesia in philosophic and religious contexts from the early centuries CE, has also applied this concept to the right of current scholars to “say anything” and offer useful critique, while at the same time incorporating rhetorically persuasive tactics of mutual respect and decorum. Holland is clear that his approach to parrhesia is focused on practices of private/philosophic parrhesia as
7 Two other treatments of parrhesia in the field of philosophy as applied to politics include Matthew Sharpe’s “A Question of Two Truths? Remarks on Parrhesia and the ‘Political/Philosophical’ Difference” and Jakub Franek’s “Philosophical Parrhesia as Aesthetics of Existence.” Both of these works closely read Foucault’s latter lectures and offer detailed, if minute, analyses of his position. 8 Cynic in this sense refers to common meanings of “cynical,” based in a belief system that views people as generally self-centered and selfish and which may manifest as contempt or negativity. Kynic is the word the authors deploy to denote ancient, classical Cynic ideals of resistance to authority. 9 Arthur J. Sementelli also draws upon parrhesia as a way of possibly informing administrative theory, as it cuts across areas theorized within that fields, such as duty, frankness, criticism, and danger. However, while these qualities are needed in administrative praxis, Sementelli is concerned about the essentializing possibilities of parrhesiastic action where the parrhesiastes is marginalized or “othered” by the target of critical, frank speech.
10 demonstrated by philosophers such as Socrates and Philodemus (who are treated in Chapter 2 and 4 of this dissertation, respectively) and that civility and candor can be deployed simultaneously for the common good. In all of these cases, authors have applied the idea of parrhesia to contemporary problems and practices, demonstrating the ongoing relevance of frank truth telling today, while also highlighting the need for a more comprehensive theoretical lens with which to view these actions. This dissertation seeks to extend these applications to wider sites and to view multiple acts of resistance as working in conjunction with one another to promote ongoing, powerful forces of resistance against power across time and place.
Parrhesia in Rhetorical Studies In the field of rhetorical studies, some inquiries have also been conducted using parrhesia as a central focus. While much of this work has engaged the history of parrhesia, or the relationship between parrhesia and rhetoric, or (in the case of Hauser) sought to use parrhesia to describe current actions of resistance, none of this research has attempted to situate parrhesia across all of these vectors, nor has it sought to create a comprehensive theory of rhetorical parrhesia to study these acts in conjunction with one another. Just as in the historic and theoretical research outlined above, these inquiries into parrhesia in the field of rhetoric have been invaluable for understanding the history and use of parrhesia, a conversation I hope to extend through my work in this dissertation. In the 1999 article “Cynic Rhetoric: The Ethics and Tactics of Resistance,” Kristen Kennedy examines the ethics and methods of Cynic rhetoric, which were based upon tactics of parrhesia and diatribe, showing the implications of these resistive tactics for marginalized populations, including women. She sees this as a potential site for minority opinions, especially ones marginalized to the point of being silenced in a society because Cynic rhetoric “operates from the margins, taking its model from their forced or chosen exile” (26). This “rhetoric of confrontation” is very different from the rhetoric described by Aristotle, which presupposes an idea of civility, law, and decorum wherein rhetoric operates to move an audience. In opposition, Cynic rhetoric is “impolite and disruptive,” and “stages kairotic moments when dissensus, rather than consensus, becomes the goal of the speaker in imploring an audience to self-scrutiny or action” (26). Cynic philosophy was based more in ethical ways of living and action than in creating or adhering to text-based doctrines, or upon dialectic and introspection, and though the disruptive behavior of Cynics can be read in purely individualistic terms, Kennedy notes, “the Cynics were, at the very least, a social movement invested in making a spectacle of their freedom” (27). Kennedy’s article shows the possibilities of parrhesia for silenced populations to speak back and speak up to power, an idea that is central to this project as well. Kennedy also postulates exile as a possible rhetorical space from which to exercise discursive agency, using the Cynics as a model for this practice. Kennedy’s work, while not providing a broad historic lens for analyzing the ongoing effects of parrhesia, points to the potential for utilizing parrhesia from positions of exile or marginalization, as well as describing how enacting parrhesia from those positions breaks down binaries between public and private action. These considerations will be central to the argument made in this dissertation, though within the context of a wider scale rhetorical/historic framework. David Colclough’s article in a 1999 issue of Rhetorica examines the use of parrhesia in rhetoric handbooks in Early Modern England. This article does a particularly fine job of explaining the different ways that parrhesia was perceived during this time, as some authors focused on the ancient Athenian view of parrhesia as a democratic civic duty, whereas others
11 portrayed it via the tradition represented in Rhetorica ad Herennium where parrhesia is a figure of speech that involves apology and flattery along with speaking an uncomfortable truth. Colclough describes this difference as two “traditions derived from, on one hand, the Greek orators of the fifth century BC who used the term parrhesia to describe the performance of democratic frank speaking, and on the other, the Roman rhetoricians for whom parrhesia meant…a demand or apology which was codified as a rhetorical figure” (179). He explains the difficulty of translating these ideas into different historic times, and while “tracing of a direct link between Cicero’s Rome and sixteenth-century England was at the heart of the humanist enterprise, and therefore of the teaching of rhetoric… Tudor writers were continually confronted by awkward reminders that they were not in fact living in the heyday of the Republic” (186). The tension between parrhesia and democratic/republican values on one hand, and the exigencies of monarchical rule on the other, led to different treatments of parrhesia (and the Latin translated licentia) in the rhetorical texts of the time. The different treatments of parrhesia in rhetorical handbooks also represent the political stances of the authors of those books, some of whom upheld the stability of the monarchy, and others who did not, so that the way that an individual author portrayed parrhesia can likewise be read as a subtle statement of political values in this analysis. Colclough’s work helps to fill in some historic gaps in research focused on the classical age, and also serves to clarify how, where, and why different views of parrhesia came to predominate in particular political climates. Gae Lyn Henderson, in a 2007 Rhetoric Society Quarterly article, analyzes 17th century women’s spiritual/autobiographical writing through the lens of Foucault’s parrhesiastic game, both as a means of understanding their writing in a new context, and also to suggest ways that these strategies might be employed today. She asks how women in that time could speak, when to do so violated the beliefs about “good womanhood” which privileged qualities of silence and obedience. These women, some of whom went to jail for their beliefs and practices, nevertheless appealed to the higher power of God to authorize their words. She outlines a series of critiques and controversies over whether Foucault’s work can be useful to liberatory practices, and puts forth his study of parrhesia and the parrhesiastic game10 as a possible site that can inform practices that resist oppression. Examining the words of Anna Trapnel, Margret Fell, and Anne Wentworth, she notes that while they do not have the ethos of church officials they do “project the ethos of a parrhesiastes, who at great personal risk proclaims her version of the truth” (440). To apply these concepts to contemporary uses, Henderson suggests that “the contemporary parrhesiastes interrogates the guises of generalized Truth to alternatively give voice to experiential, localized, multiple truths” where this “rhetor-as-parrhesiastes who observes societal inequities, injustice, and violence and may then construct responsive textual strategies and subjectivities to engage in high-stakes parrhesiastic games” (446). Henderson’s work uses the idea of parrhesia as presented in Foucault’s work to analyze the acts of these women and alludes to the possibilities for using this idea as a way of understanding resistance. However, this study does not go on to postulate larger frames for how this analysis might occur, thus this current project seeks to expand the work suggested by both Henderson and Kennedy to show how parrhesia might be used as a way of understanding and analyzing parrhesiastic acts in a variety of contexts.
10 Henderson’s work refers to Fearless Speech, as it was the only treatment of parrhesia by Foucault available at the time of her publication.
12 Because Foucault’s work on parrhesia positioned it in opposition to rhetoric, subsequent work in the field of rhetoric has had to address this polarity. Instead of Foucault’s oppositional situating of rhetoric and parrhesia, Arthur Walzer offers a more nuanced, complex relationship between the two. Relaxing Foucault’s stance, Walzer explains that, “since rhetoric ordinarily theorizes a relationship between speaker and listener or the audience as primary, there is necessarily tension between ideal parresia and ordinary rhetoric. Foucault turns this tension into a dichotomy and sets off the rhetorical transaction as foil to the parrhesiastic one” (5). In Walzer’s view, Foucault takes much of his perspective about rhetoric from handbooks, thus he “characterizes rhetoric as a pseudo art of formulas that the parrhesiast must abjure” (5). Walzer notes that there is an element of truth in Foucault’s critique of rhetoric if that view is taken strictly from handbooks that outline codes, conventions, and generic forms. Though Walzer concludes that Foucault’s work in parrhesia is valuable, he contends that Foucault’s limited understanding of the scope of rhetoric makes his dichotomous reading of it alongside parrhesia problematic. He states that the “genealogy of parresia that traces an evolution in the meaning of term as parresia gradually moves away from situations of confrontations with power and becomes linked to exchanges among friends…[and]…. At this point parresia takes on a thoroughly rhetorical character” (18). Walzer’s succinct article is an effective critique of Foucault’s work and points to the places where more theorizing is necessary and he suggests the usefulness of a more complete history of parrhesia within the field of rhetorical studies.11 This dissertation seeks to begin that history and process of theorizing how parrhesia is enacted rhetorically across a variety of sites, as well as to consider how these acts of resistance might work together cumulatively across time and place to (re)shape power relations and institutions. Gerard Hauser, who addresses parrhesia in his analysis of the rhetorical practices of political prisoners, also contests Foucault’s distinction between rhetoric and parrhesia, asserting that Foucault’s model elides the importance of an audience that can respond, and ostensibly enact or call for reform, in order for parrhesiastic critique to have an effect. He looks at acts of resistance by political prisoners in a variety of settings, showing how their risky acts of defiance invoke the ethos of the audience, call out the injustices of those in power, and create the exigence for change in the conditions of the prisoners. In Hauser’s discussion, though, he works from a view of parrhesia that is reminiscent of that represented in the Rhetorica ad Herennium, explaining that “traditionally, parrhesia was spoken to the superior power under the seal of permission to speak candidly with the guarantee that the speaker would not be punished for uttering the truth,” and then contrasts that to the actual risks taken by political prisoners (12). Later in his book he again delineates between the political prisoner, who “stands as a reminder that, unlike the original valuing of parrhesia and protection of the parrhesiastes from punishment for telling the truth, frank speech [for the political prisoner] has become chancy at best” (119). While Hauser’s work with frank truth telling and acts of resistance amongst political prisoners demonstrates how parrhesia might work in contemporary settings, it does not address the full scope of the meanings and uses of parrhesia within its classical contexts. Instead, it offers one of
11 Walzer’s article is further expanded in discussions by Pat Gehrke, who highlights the different typologies of parrhesia in the ancient world, noting that neither parrhesia nor rhetoric have a singular meaning; Susan Jarratt’s call for “productive readings” of Foucault’s late lectures, which were more works in progress than completed theories; and Bradford Vivian’s point that the distinction between Walzer’s approach and Foucault’s is based largely in differing epistemic positions. (Rhetoric Society Quarterly (43.4 (2013): 355-381)
13 the many uses of parrhesia within ancient Greek culture, one that specifically arose in response to autocratic political systems, and overstresses the protection of the parrhesiastes for speaking. Though the parrhesiastes might ask for clemency for speaking the truth to an autocrat, and while it was culturally the sign of a “good king” if he listened without condemning the speaker, as we will see in Chapters 2, 3, and 4 this in no way guaranteed the safety of the speaker. Rather, this notion of begging pardon before delivering difficult to hear truths comes more from the way that parrhesia is treated in rhetorical manuals and does not reflect the way it worked in many situations of actual practice. Despite this limitation, Hauser’s analysis of political prisoners as parrhesiastic is a valuable example of how parrhesia might work today in situations of grossly imbalanced power where the rhetor speaks at great risk to bodily safety. Additionally, because the concept of parrhesia is invoked repeatedly in this work, as well as its links with classic Greek contexts, Hauser’s analysis implies the type of networked connection to parrhesiastic action across time that I seek to highlight and articulate in this dissertation. Other works in the field of rhetoric do not specifically invoke parrhesia but still describe, analyze, and name rhetorical actions that could be labeled parrhesistic. In the book Malcolm X: Inventing Radical Judgment from 2007, Robert Terrill uses the phrase “radical judgment” to describe the rhetorical practices and social critiques engaged in by Malcolm X. Terrill depicts Malcolm X’s oratory as an enactment of freedom, where he encouraged his audience to likewise adapt a stance of interpreting the world that is, in itself, liberating. Malcolm X used to tell his students that “Untruths had to be untold,” demonstrating his dedication to articulating truth values he saw as necessary to confront the problems of racism (7). Though Malcolm X’s positions were not necessarily ones that could be used to found a sustainable social movement, “he enacts in and through his discourse emancipatory strategies of radical judgment, modes of interpretation and critique that invite his audiences to come to reasoned assessments without being constrained by the paradigms and formulas associated with the dominant culture” (9). This radical judgment of critique through truth telling could be used by his audience as an inventional strategy to inform their own judgments, positions, and social actions, so that his oratory was generative, encouraging further resistance amongst his listeners. As Terrill points out, “because Malcolm’s rhetoric demonstrates and enacts attitudes that are unauthorized by that [dominant] culture, it encourages a radical judgment. Because this form of judgment was not otherwise available to his audiences, Malcolm had to invent it” (24). In this way, Malcolm X invents new rhetorical strategies based upon critique and speaking out in the risky, frank ways associated with parrhesia, and instigates further resistance and critique within his audience. Terrill’s work attempts to use Malcolm X as a point of study to interpret the rhetorical tactics used in Malcolm X’s oratories, and to expand that understanding by creating an analytic framework to apprehend the concept of radical judgment and how that might serve to perpetuate ongoing rhetorical, critical action. Though Terrill does not use the term parrhesia, his idea of radical judgment has some overlapping qualities in common with parrhesia and his discussion of Malcolm X’s oratory might be productively supported through the additional lens of rhetorical parrhesia. John Schilb’s work, Rhetorical Refusals: Defying Audiences’ Expectations, from 2007 also conceptually overlaps with the idea of parrhesia in that it describes a rhetorical act that disrupts audience expectations, crosses social boundaries, and demonstrates rebellion against norms. Schilb contends that “rhetorical refusals are most likely to be performed by people at polar extremes: that is, by those who already enjoy high prestige (thus having little to risk) and those who feel quite abused by dominant powers” (20). Parrhesia, likewise, has been enacted from both of these positions, first by those with high prestige (e.g., Pericles, Cicero) as well as
14 those who are marginalized (e.g., Diogenes). However, for those with higher prestige, they did not enact parrhesia because they had little to risk; as I will show in subsequent chapters, even those with a degree of cultural or political power still take significant risks when speaking parrhesiastically. Additionally, while a rhetor who refuses to act in an expected manner may defy an audience’s expectations, according to Schilb’s model, they are still “actively aimed at persuading their audience” and that “an audience isn’t even aware of its expectations until these have been defied” (10,14). Parrhesia, in the classical sense, likewise transgresses audience expectations, though the desire to persuade is secondary to the need to tell the truth as the rhetor perceives it. However, this transgression often leads to the kind of discomfort eluded to in Schilb’s description of audience response; though the rhetor may disrupt audience expectations, this is in service of a stronger claim, toward which the audience may be persuaded through the ethical, and unexpected, action of the rhetor. Shilb points out that these actions “demonstrate agency [and] rhetorical refusals can also serve to illuminate dynamics of power. Consciously or unconsciously, often the refusers contest hierarchies that would otherwise govern their utterances” (18). In this way, parrhesia and rhetorical refusals overlap, as parrhesia is enacted within a situation of power inequality, where parrhesiastic speech serves to challenge that power and speak out against it, despite risks. While many of the examples Schilb uses as illustrations of rhetorical refusals are not necessarily parrhesiastic (e.g. they do not often involve significant risk to the rhetor, they may be enacted by those who already have power, etc.) the idea of rhetorical refusals itself could be enacted in parrhesiastic ways and in situations of risk. For these reasons, I consider Schilb’s work to demonstrate a similar and somewhat overlapping idea that might, in some situations, coincide with parrhesia and exhibit a similar ethic. There are numerous examples of rhetorical analyses of parrhesiastic rhetors, though with the exception of the cases mentioned above, the term itself is not applied to them. Works such as Leila Brammer’s Excluded from Suffrage History: Matilda Joslyn Gage, Nineteenth-Century American Feminist, studies by scholars such as Jacqueline Bacon, Jaqueline Jones Royster, and Shirley Logan on nineteenth century African American women rhetors, Kate Ronald, Joy Ritchie, Karlyn Kohrs Campbell, and many others have recovered and analyzed the rhetorical work of marginalized women and other silenced populations. Many researchers in the field of rhetoric have investigated people who spoke out at great risk to themselves, though without the framework of rhetorical parrhesia to name these acts or to shape their analysis. The rhetorical actions of parrhesiastic rhetors inspire a great deal of interest and cultural respect and lend themselves well to rhetorical analysis, and have thus been the focus of multiple studies too numerous to list.
Adding Parrhesia to the Conversation This dissertation seeks to offer a framework with which to more fully understand, analyze, and connect these powerful rhetorical activities in a way that will demonstrate how resistance works in a networked fashion over time and across various sites. While all the previous research on parrhesiastic rhetors is invaluable and serves to support this current project, a rhetorical theory of parrhesia can provide a means of understanding risky rhetorical acts that focuses on an analysis of both the individual parrhesiastic moment, as well as how it connects to other such moments in a way that serves to reshape power relations, institutions, and social norms. It is my intention to propose a conceptual frame for the purpose of connecting these events so that we might discuss them as a related body of activity, rather than as disconnected, disparate events. Without the word “parrhesia” it is difficult to talk about this type of risky truth telling as a specific kind of
15 rhetorical action, or to see the power and potential that these activities hold when considered together in a cumulative fashion. It is also essential to distinguish parrhesia as rhetorical action rather than to confuse it with notions of a particular stylistic turn, such as plain-spokenness, or as a figure of speech wherein the speaker apologetically criticizes a more powerful entity and then apologizes for doing so, or ameliorates this gentle critique with praise. This dissertation will cover rhetorical parrhesiastic action—genuinely risky acts of speaking up to power in ways that are dangerous to the rhetor that disrupt conventional power relations and hierarchies. While views of parrhesia gleaned from its representation in Rhetorica ad Herennium (or other derivative texts based upon this work) may view parrhesia as a codified stylistic figure that includes apologies or insincere flattery, the parrhesia I will focus on in this dissertation is of the variety that seeks to actually challenge power in ways that are unapologetic and often dangerous. The stylistic mimicry of parrhesia found in some rhetorical handbooks offers a watered-down, relatively innocuous imitation of parrhesia—an appearance of parrhesia, without the direct boldness or risk. Stylistic parrhesia, while it may be legitimately utilized in some situations as a figure of speech, is not what interests me for the scope of this study. Rather, the rhetorical parrhesia I will examine is the kind where rhetors take significant risks to speak out, sometimes against overwhelming forces of power, from deeply held ethical motivations and a need to articulate truth, even if doing so comes at risk to life, freedom, and/or safety. This kind of risky rhetorical action has had deep and lasting impacts on Western culture, society, law, politics, and ideology for centuries, and yet we have a limited vocabulary to connect and discuss these strongly affecting rhetorical interventions into the workings of power. It is my aim to expand previous research, link it directly to the concept of rhetorical parrhesia, and note the historic impact of parrhesiastic rhetors throughout history and into our current times. By linking this research within the framework of rhetorical parrhesia, it is my goal to show how, perhaps, many scholars have been pointing to a common force of resistance all along, but lacked a shared signifier and overarching conceptual schema for analysis and discussion. In presenting a rhetorical theory of parrhesia, I seek to provide a common discourse and interpretive framework to investigate the risky acts of resistance that disrupt conventional hierarchies so that we might recognize the powerful potentials of these rhetorical acts and their ability to realign power relations. To foreground the analyses in subsequent chapters, I will turn now to a discussion of some of the broad terms and frameworks I will use in that investigation. As parrhesia has occurred across a wide range of times, places, and contexts, it is necessary to explain the way that several of these concepts are used in upcoming discussions. One of the interesting aspects of parrhesia is that it has been used and examined as occurring in both public and private settings, a distinction that has been integral to the way parrhesia is understood. To that end, I will offer a review of scholarly inquiries into the distinction between private and public so that these terms are contextualized and understood when they occur in upcoming analyses. As we will see, parrhesia transgresses boundaries of public and private and can be delivered to audiences via oral, print, and digital means to be distributed and circulated in ways that continue to produce effects across historic moments and disparate sites. Because parrhesia operates across and within all of these vectors, a discussion of these terms may help situate parrhesiastic activity within the contexts that allow it to operate.
16 Private, Public, and the Spaces Between Parrhesia is often discussed in terms of public and private, and as a concept that has, at various times, been used primarily in one or the other domain. First, I would argue that there is not a hard, binary distinction between these spheres to begin with, and furthermore that parrhesia in practice often serves as a way of transgressing and crossing what boundaries there are between private and public. In the scholarship I will review in Chapter 2, I will show how parrhesia is conceived as arising as primarily a public practice in ancient Athens, one that occurred in the realm of the political, in figures such as Pericles, and later Demosthenes. However, there is also a shift in the meaning of parrhesia that overlaps this usage that will place parrhesia more in the domain of the private, in philosophic discussions and interpersonal relationships, which is how it is portrayed by Plato in Chapter 2, and later by Philodemus and Plutarch in Chapter 4. Additionally, there are some figures—namely Diogenes of Sinope—who use frank speech as a way to transgress the boundaries between public and private and make what is commonly assumed to be private (such as sexuality, bodily functions, and opinions that are overtly critical or hostile to autocratic rulers) very openly public. This latter ability for parrhesia to transgress the private and intervene in the public is where I believe parrhesia has the most power to disrupt the status quo and empower those with limited access to resources and power. However, to fully understand parrhesia and to maximize its potential uses, it is likewise necessary to trace its multiple meanings and sites of enactment in, between, and across the domains of the private and public. As part of this discussion, it is necessary to delineate the terms and spaces designated by “public” and “private” and the transformations in the meanings and uses of these terms through the historic trajectory outlined in this dissertation. Jurgen Habermas examines the application of these terms and traces them back through history to Greek city-state society. In that context, the public sphere was “a realm of freedom and permanence” that was rather strictly delineated from the private, the latter of which was focused upon the household (3-4). However, the truly successful man (for women were not part of the public at all) oversaw his household, which was a stand in for material wealth and the power of production, but this success could only be recognized and celebrated in the realm of the public. In feudal times, public came to demarcate that which was controlled by the state authority, versus the private, which was the domain of the citizens controlled by that authority. Kings and nobility "represented their lordship not for but 'before' the people," indicative of the type of "publicity" implied in this type of governing system (8). In order for the nobles to exist as nobles they required an audience in front of which, and over whom, to display their nobility, so that "this type of representation was still dependent on the presence of people before whom it was displayed" (10). The nobility were considered the "public" sector of society with the rest of the population comprising the private, where "the authorities were contrasted with the subjects excluded from them; the former served, so it was said, the public welfare, while the latter pursued private interests" (11). In this context, the public sphere is composed of policy makers and those who influence those choices, whereas the private sphere is considered to comprise the market, and where the sphere of the family is considered the "intimate sphere.” The public sphere was not a congruent or inclusive organism, as women, servants, and other marginalized groups were often excluded from many of its functions, while included in others, such as literary circles. For Habermas, the idealized bourgeois public sphere, ruled by reason and open to (male) members of (supposedly) all social classes was appropriated and reduced to a superficial appearance of public participation in the twentieth century with the advent of mass media and the increasing influence of commercial interests. The outcomes of these practices, though couched in
17 the illusory view that the public has of itself as freely choosing, critically thinking citizens, is a form of consensus generation and representation of reality that is reminiscent of the feudal systems of power and antithetical to the stated ideology of constitutional democracy. Habermas warns that, "the political public sphere of the social-welfare state is marked by two competing tendencies. Insofar as it represents the collapse of the public sphere of civil society, it makes room for a staged and manipulative publicity displayed by organizations over the heads of a mediatized public" (232). In this climate of staged publicity and manufactured consent, the actual power of the public sphere, which was once comprised of private citizens coming together to influence public policies and opinions, is greatly compromised, though the illusion of a public opinion supporting state actions is a necessary fiction in order to legitimate political domination. It is in this climate of oppressive control that the current actions of parrhesiastes must arise, though as I will argue in Chapters 8 and 9, current digital technologies both promote and complicate the ability of private citizens to participate or intervene within the public sphere. Many critiques of Habermas’s theory have been raised based upon his seemingly monolithic idea of the public, rather than as multiple, potentially competing, publics. Nancy Fraser, in her critique of the limitations of Habermas’s conception of the public sphere, notes that people from disadvantaged groups can benefit from forming “subaltern counterpublics” that signify “parallel discursive arenas where members of subordinated social groups invent and circulate counterdiscourses to formulate oppositional interpretations of their identities, interests, and needs” (67). Similarly, Michael Warner highlights the idea of counterpublics, where “some publics are defined by their tension with a larger public” (56). By situating publics and counterpublics in this way, Warner claims that “counterpublics are, by definition, formed by their conflict with the norms and contexts of their cultural environment, and this context of domination inevitably entails distortion” (63). Stressing the idea of publics as centered on particular interests, attention, and the circulation of discourse and organized outside of state institutions, Warner likewise notes that when women are perceived as belonging to the realm of the private (as they were in the nineteenth century) “their very entry into public politics seemed scandalous or inappropriate” (32). These discussions are especially helpful when examining the role of women and other marginalized populations and it is exactly this crossing over from the realm of the private to the public that marks women’s parrhesiastic action in the nineteenth century, which will be examined in greater detail in Chapter 6. In this context, the very act of speaking out or resisting cultural norms was, in itself, a transgression of expected behavior, thus to do this in a public way required courage and a willingness to incur risks that marks the type of speech associated with parrhesia. Habermas focuses largely on print and the proliferation of that medium as a means of supporting the public sphere and critical, rational debate, and with the advent of internet technologies many theorists have used his model of the public sphere to argue that digital environments provide a space for participation in rational, critical debate as imagined in the Habermasian ideal. For the discussion of parrhesia in digital environments in Chapters 8 and 9, this idea will be taken into consideration, though it should be noted that the changes in public participation in those spaces has likewise been critiqued and questioned by public sphere theorists such as Jodi Dean. Dean contests the idea held by Habermas and others that the net is a public sphere, arguing instead that it is zero institution, “an empty signifier that itself has no determinate meaning but that signifies the presence of meaning” (105). Rather than viewing the net as a place of inclusivity and deliberative debate, hallmarks of classic public sphere theory, Dean sees the net as a place of contestation and agonistic struggle where this struggle itself
18 “enables myriad conflicting constituencies to understand themselves as part of the same global structure even as they disagree over what the architecture of this structure should entail” (106). While she emphasizes the role of communicative capitalism in her argument, Dean also notes that the web can be used in non-commercial ways, which strengthens her claim that “the Web is a site of conflict. And this conflictual, contested dimension of the Web needs to be emphasized” (107). The internet in this model, then, does provide a space within which debate might occur, but it is conflict and contestation, rather than consensus and rational/critical debate, that fuels the democratic possibilities of the internet. This idea, that the web offers a space for multiple contested voices to debate over an issue, will be vital for discussions of the affordances and limitations of cyberspace as a public sphere (Chapter 8) and audience perception and the impact of the actions of Edward Snowden (Chapter 9). While many critiques and expansions of Habermas’s theory are certainly possible, issues of public and private will affect the space within which parrhesia is discussed, as well as the possibilities for its effects. As I will argue later, parrhesia has the opportunity to cross apparent divides between these spheres, rendering the positions and opinions of private individuals public in a way that has the potential to shape and affect public discourse and action. Generally speaking, I will focus on “public” as pertaining to the realm of the political and rhetorical, whereas “private” will designate action that occurs within spaces that are not available for widespread scrutiny and might fall within the domain of the interpersonal. Into this category of the private, many researchers have also included the philosophical, especially when referring to the uses of parrhesia in the works of Plato. However, as we will see in Chapter 2, these designations are complicated by actions, such as those taken by Diogenes—and arguably Socrates—that cross the boundaries between the private/philosophic and the public/political. It is, in fact, these sorts of parrhesiastic actions that most interest me in their possibility for current civic action by private individuals who may have limited access to conventional sources of power. Related to issues of public/private, in subsequent sections, I will also take up the discussion of how parrhesia is delivered and distributed through various means—oral, print, and digital—and how this likewise influences the potential area of effect for parrhesiastic action. These broad issues of private/public, medium, delivery, and distribution alter perceptions of parrhesia, as well as its potential to create disruptive social change, even across time and place. In order to understand the long-range or ongoing effects of parrhesia, it is necessary to take these frames into account as the wider theoretical network through which we view parrhesiastic history and action.
Scope, Intentions, and Chapter Overview Parrhesia, as it occurs within the context of technologies of delivery, distribution, and circulation, continues to have profound influences on Western ideology and practice, as I will show in upcoming chapters. We continue to remember and circulate information about parrhesiastic acts, some of which are from the deep past, as a way to inspire or explain the narratives about Western culture that we continue to value. Though the word parrhesia still exists in the Greek language, most Western languages (including Latin) do not have a directly equivalent word to describe the type of risky, frank speech that parrhesia connotes, and because we lack a common word to label these acts, it becomes very difficult to talk about them. Additionally, because of the absence of a unifying concept to connect parrhesiastic practices, their power, ubiquity, and pervasiveness can be easily overlooked. Some forces of power may seem overwhelming and insurmountable, yet
19 people persist in enacting parrhesia, despite the risks, as the deeply held truths from which they speak are more important than the dangers or harms they incur for speaking. That people have done this for thousands of years is significant and deserves serious analysis, as well as a framework and common language to connect these acts and understand their importance. With these goals in mind, this dissertation will explore the meanings and uses of parrhesia from its inception in ancient Athens at the height of oral culture to how it is enacted today in rapidly proliferating and interconnected digital spaces. Founded within discussions of private/public boundaries and transgressions, as well as the technological developments and affordances that have made parrhesia accessible and deliverable, I will show how parrhesia has worked within specific moments and situations, and extend the effects of those events, connecting them to other parrhesiastic acts in a networked fashion. While I will not delve too deeply into Actor-Network Theory and the works of Michel Callon, Bruno Latour, John Law, and others, I am aware that the networked activity to which I refer involves interactions between human and non-human agents, especially in relation to technological affordances that make delivery, distribution, and circulation possible. This study aims to take into account human actors—namely, the parrhesiastic rhetors that occupy a good deal of the analysis in this dissertation—but to place them within the context of the non-human actants that make the networked effects of parrhesia possible. My goal is to demonstrate how parrhesia works in and across various contexts, how it uses and might use the affordances of technology to propagate and distribute its disruptive influence across lines of power, and how we might frame parrhesiastic acts for the purpose of analysis and deeper understanding. This dissertation is organized in four major sections, three of which specifically focus on the primary delivery method for parrhesia in that era. Section One deals with the effects of oral delivery in the Classical era. In the Overview, I give a survey of the complex relationship between orality and print in the Classical era, followed by Chapter 2, which examines how parrhesia was used and understood in ancient Athenian democracy where it arose alongside the study of rhetoric and the practice of democracy in the fourth and fifth centuries BCE. This discussion follows two overlapping tracks: the public/political use of parrhesia and the private/philosophic one. While I will also argue that this distinction is not a hard binary, many researchers have used these terms to describe the shift in the spaces parrhesia occupied, though nearly all of them likewise agree that it is not an either/or proposition, but rather a both/and. To understand the use of parrhesia in the public/political realm, I will examine the works of Pericles (recorded by Thucydides), Demosthenes, and Isocrates and then move on to the transition in the primary focus of parrhesia from the public/political to the private/philosophical, as evidenced by the writings of Plato. Diogenes of Sinope complicates even the notion of the private/public binary, and his philosophically-based parrhesiastic actions deeply transgress notions of privacy by bringing those actions, thoughts, and words very directly into the public view. While parrhesia was originally the product of a democratic political structure, Plato and Aristotle also show how it can be adapted to situations of autocracy, a way of conceiving parrhesia that would serve to influence much subsequent thought about this concept. Chapter 3 continues the historic use and understanding of parrhesia but shifts the cultural focus to the Roman Republic and the practice of libertas. As noted, parrhesia does not have a direct Latin equivalent term, so both libertas and licentia are sometimes used in translations. Libertas, which includes the act of speaking out at great risk, was an integral duty and virtue in the Roman Republic, but as the republic slid toward empire, this practice became riskier. Nevertheless, Cicero was known for his outspoken promotion of republican values, even when
20 doing this came at the price of his life. I will examine his orations, inspired by the classical parrhesiastic orators from Athens (Pericles, Isocrates, and especially Demosthenes), showing how the networked influence of parrhesia shaped his latter orations and led directly to his execution. Chapter 4 shows how these ideas shifted in the Roman Empire, where philosophic communities adapted and enacted parrhesia to their own ends, and members of those communities used frank speech to one another as a means of self improvement. In this era, parrhesia becomes the mark of a true friend, and works by Philodemus and Plutarch focus on enacting parrhesia interpersonally, with great value placed upon frankness as opposed to empty flattery. Early Christians, too, utilized parrhesia as they spoke the truth of their religious beliefs even when doing so led to persecution. The end of this chapter will explain how parrhesia was understood and used by early Christian prophets and how this was pointed to as inspiration to withstand martyrdom. However, as the Church adopted categories of orthodoxy and heresy, the nature of what constituted “truth” narrowed so that parrhesia—speaking out against authority— became more of a vice than a virtue. With the historical foundation of the meanings and uses of parrhesia established, Section Two / Chapter 5 outlines a rhetorical theory of parrhesia that can be applied to various parrhesiastic situations and offers a framework for the analysis of parrhesiastic acts. By deploying common rhetorical terms, I show how parrhesia works rhetorically and displays characteristics that make it a unique type of rhetorical act. I then suggest a methodology for analyzing parrhesiastic events that can be utilized to examine individual moments, as well as demonstrate how these acts work in conjunction with, and are connected to, other acts of resistance that transverse spatial and temporal limits. Parrhesiastic acts, when considered in conjunction with one another, work to reshape power relations and institutions, an integral function of parrhesia that can be overlooked if these deeds are viewed as only the isolated choices of individuals. Section Three marks the historical turn to print-based culture, specifically focusing on the nineteenth century women’s movement and Matilda Gage. Chapter 6 outlines the changes in technology, literacy, education, and the availability of texts in the nineteenth century that contributed to a wider American reading public that included women. Within this context, I will examine the parrhesiastic acts of Matilda Gage in Chapter 7, a highly active and effective member of the nineteenth century women’s movement who was well known at the time but who has been largely forgotten in the intervening century. I argue that this erasure occurred precisely because of her strong parrhesiastic rhetoric, which eventually led to her marginalization by other less radical members of the women’s movement. I apply the rhetorical theory of parrhesia presented in Chapter 5 to two specific moments of Gage’s activist career—her surprising entrance into the women’s suffrage movement at the 1852 National Women’s Rights Convention and her disruption of the 1876 national Centennial Celebration in Philadelphia—to demonstrate how parrhesiastic moments work rhetorically as a means for better understanding these risky acts of truth telling. I connect these acts to wider networks of resistance, both in the other parrhesiastes that Gage herself invokes, as well as the ongoing rhetorical effects of Gage’s actions, showing how, even when parrhesiastic actors work independently and at different sites, the cumulative effects of their resistance have larger influences across time than even they realize. Section Four continues the historic movement to the present and examines how parrhesia is altered by digital technologies. Chapter 8 looks at the ways distribution and circulation are
21 altered in digital spaces, and then goes on to discuss how cyberspace may or may not offer a site of public deliberation and democratic activity. As resistance tactics might be enacted in these new digital environments, power likewise must realign in order to deal with threats to its hegemony, thus this chapter also explains the extensive surveillance practices that are critical to understand within the context of Edward Snowden’s parrhesiastic choices. Chapter 9 applies the theory of rhetorical parrhesia outlined in Chapter 5 to analyze the whistleblowing of Edward Snowden. In this digital setting, the networked effects of parrhesia manifest in even more apparent ways, as his decision to leak classified information about NSA surveillance would not have been possible without collaboration from multiple actors. Additionally, the nature of the parrhesiastic act itself is altered by the digital environment, which allows for huge amounts of information to be transmitted almost instantly in a way that print mediums do not. Snowden’s parrhesia offers a complex site of analysis, showing how both the act of parrhesia itself, as well as its delivery, distribution and circulation, are profoundly altered by digital technologies. These affordances offer heretofore impossible means of enacting parrhesia and reaching wider audience by citizen parrhesiastes, though not without risk or limitations. Chapter 10 concludes this work and points to future and further areas of inquiry and also questions the ways in which we conventionally teach rhetoric in the classroom. If parrhesia, which is not about “pleasing” an audience so much as saying what needs to be said, regardless of consequences, is so powerful, then why is rhetoric presented as a tool to primarily persuade an audience through careful applications of tact and appealing wordplay? Just as the ancients came to mistrust rhetoric as the art of flattery, we might learn something from the rhetorical power of parrhesia, which while not “pleasing” to an audience, may nevertheless move them to action. It is my hope that with an analytic framework and language with which to describe parrhesiastic rhetoric, that we might come to more fully understand and appreciate the power of risky resistance, the necessity of which democratic Athenians understood as inherently invaluable to a working democracy. Perhaps the exigencies of oppression and violent forces that continue to operate in the present day call for a resurgence and recovery of parrhesiastic rhetorical practices in order to understand and promote resistance to these seemingly overwhelming powers. Sometimes pleasing persuasion may not be enough—not all audiences are willing to listen or engage in civil, deliberative debate—and often the most marginalized populations are also the ones who are vehemently denied a platform from which to air their grievances anyway. Parrhesia does not require permission or approval to enact, nor is it reserved for only the powerful. Though parrhesia is risky, as people have shown for thousands of years, there are some truths worth risking everything for, worth dying for, worth speaking out for. It is this type of deeply held truth that gives parrhesia its power, and a force of resistance that holds so much potential deserves our deeper scrutiny, analysis, and discussion. I hope that this work serves to begin that discussion on a wider scale and helps to offer a language and framework from which to begin. As institutions of global, governmental, and corporate power seem to be encroaching on so many basic human rights worldwide, the need for new rhetorical strategies and frameworks must arise in response. Since democracy began, parrhesia has been a necessary part of its healthy functioning. By recovering this idea and practice, we may endeavor to reinstate this vital aspect of democratic functioning in order to promote greater equality, safety, freedom, and health to wider numbers of the world’s population. Parrhesia requires risk, but as we come to more fully understand and appreciate how parrhesia works, and to analyze how, when, and where it is effective, we might likewise offer these tools of resistance to those who might disrupt the hierarchies of their oppression in the service of
22 liberty. In addition, by analyzing parrhesia within a larger historic network of resistance, we also highlight that the individual parrhesiastes does not act alone; rather, she acts within an historic network of many other parrhesiastes who also risked everything to stand up to power, and in doing so, she embeds herself within that tradition and collaboratively joins her efforts with theirs. In this way, the multiple cracks and fissures in the veneer of power shift and realign, so that with enough disruption, its seamless façade might be dismantled and rearranged in ways that more closely align with our most deeply held truth values.
23
Section One Oral Culture and Parrhesia: Historical Perspectives
24 Overview
My study of parrhesiastic rhetoric will begin in ancient Athens (Chapter 2) pass through the Roman Republic (Chapter 3), then on to the early Roman Empire and beginnings of Christianity (Chapter 4), all of which were primarily oral cultures. The relationship between oral and print culture is long and complex, and while we may imagine a hard distinction between the two, there is indeed great reciprocity and overlap. Of course, the texts I will examine exist precisely because they were remediated into print for wider distribution; nevertheless, in most cases the primary delivery method for these texts was oral. For an analysis of the difference between the ways in which parrhesia was understood, distributed, and received by audiences in the Classical era, it becomes necessary to understand the changing roles of orality and print. During the time period covered in Section One, between 5th century BCE Athens and the 4th century CE, parrhesia as a concept was still part of vernacular discourse. It is during this time that the first uses of parrhesia occurred and from which the oral delivery component of this study derives. My historic analyses of specific Classical era parrhesiatic rhetors centers largely on male public speakers, many of whom were statesmen or other elite members of society (e.g. Pericles, Demosthenes, Cicero) with high-ranking status, with the exception of Diogenes, who was himself a marginalized outcast.12 These historic parrhesiastes arose from, and spoke within, oral- based cultures where the primary form of rhetorical delivery was the spoken word, though none of these acts would be available for analysis today if their work had not been transcribed and recorded in a print medium. For some of the rhetors covered (e.g. Pericles and Diogenes) they themselves never recorded any of their own rhetorical works, thus for analysis we have to rely upon external sources (e.g. Thucydides and Laertius, respectively). Others who wrote of parrhesia, such as Plato during the same time, or philosophers such as Philodemus and Plutarch later, ostensibly enacted or saw others enact parrhesia within philosophical, interpersonal communities and interactions, though they themselves clearly wrote about parrhesia within the medium of print. They did this, however, at a time prior to the printing press, a technological innovation that will have great effects upon many areas of society, including the effects of parrhesia. Given the long, complicated historic relationship between rhetoric and parrhesia on one hand, and orality and print on the other, it becomes necessary to understand how these various forms of delivery and distribution affect the possibilities for parrhesia to disrupt power relations over time and across space. Thus, in this Overview, I want to both complicate and elucidate the ways in which these various vectors of analysis work together and against one another in complex relationship to parrhesiastic actions. Though the works of rhetors such as Pericles, Demosthenes, and Cicero are known to us because they, or a contemporary of theirs, chose to write it down, their lives and careers were primarily focused on their ability to speak before a large, and sometimes volatile, audience. In these cases, though their works exist today in textual form, we could argue that their main method of delivery for parrhesiastic messages was through the medium of the spoken word and
12 I am aware that my analysis of Classical age rhetors is comprised entirely of male orators and rhetoricians. This is not because of a lack of interest in the rhetorical acts of women, but rather due to the absence of extant texts or discourse to analyze. In future projects, I may seek to uncover and examine female parrhesiastes from classical times or to analyze women speakers and prophets from early Christianity and gnostic sects more closely, though this research falls outside the scope of this current project.
25 accompanying embodied gestures. In fact, it is the immediacy of the reaction of an audience to a parrhesiastic rhetor that can create much of the risk he takes in speaking out, as the crowd in these contexts could be volatile and prone to violence. However, even in these primarily oral- based cultures, orators like Demosthenes and Cicero purposely wrote down their orations, likely editing them to make them more readerly, and published them for distribution. They did this precisely because they would then be able to reach a wider audience with their ideas, though oral delivery was still the principle vehicle for the transmission for their parrhesiastic messages and the means by which the results of their work were enacted. The complex relationship between delivery and technology is necessary to understand if we want to trace the ways in which parrehsiastic actions might be delivered, distributed, and received based upon historic exigencies and access to technology. Benson McCorkle elucidates the reciprocal and complicated relationship between these concepts, making an extended argument that delivery and technology have worked in tandem throughout history and comprise a complicated, overlapping relationship with one another. For McCorkle, the relationship between technology and rhetorical delivery is deeply embedded where “the rhetorical canon of delivery functions as a technological discourse…[and]… technology is fundamentally a cultural phenomenon, a construction supported by certain types of discourses, institutions, and power relations between individuals” (5). He traces this history from ancient Athens, arguing that writing and literacy helped form the foundation for what we think of as rhetorical studies. By drawing upon and extending the theory of remediation put forward by Jay Bolter and Richard Grusin, McCorkle argues “that we can productively extend this logic to address more broadly the social and technological contexts within which such an interaction occurs: the cultural practices, discourses, and institutions supporting such media forms” where transformations in mediums between oral and written rhetorical practices occur not only in the material act of remediation itself, but also across social institutions, contexts, and epistemological approaches (40). McCorkle describes the shift that occurred in fourth century BCE Athens in terms of Kenneth Burke’s notion of transformation, a change that happens over an extended period of time and across multiple cultural sites where these changes are naturalized and not particularly noted as either quick or culturally shocking. The transitions that occurred between orality and writing—between mythos and logos—is imbedded within a “densely reciprocal network” where reading and writing mutually reinforce the validity and relevance of each other (43-48). During this time, writing was not the dominant medium it would later become, but rather existed in competition with, but dependent upon, oral traditions (including rhetoric and poetry) thus rhetoric is a productive site for analysis “because rhetoric was arguably the main site that fostered the conceptual overlap. As theoretical discourse, physically embodied practice, and an institution of cultural power, Greek rhetoric blended together the attributes of writing and speaking in ways that transcended only the formal or technical processes of remediation” (49). As writing was being established in Greek cultural in the Classical era, it took on many of the attributes of oral traditions and practices, though as this process continued, the opposite also became true, i.e., orality took on attributes of written texts. McCorkle points out that written texts did not immediately displace spoken discourse, but rather supplemented it though eventually “the paradigm shifts in classical Greek rhetoric contributed to that culture’s growing acceptance of writing as a co-equal, and eventually superior, technology of communication” (66-67). Walter Ong also discussess the technology of writing and traces its origins and relationships to orality, elucidating the differences in consciousness and epistemology between oral and literate cultures. Ong, like McCorkle, situates this shift within larger cultural
26 transformations that affect various aspects of social thought and practice, noting that, “technologies are not mere exterior aids but also interior transformations of consciousness, and never more than when they affect the word” (82). While some of his more exaggerated claims may be arguable, Ong convincingly articulates the interrelatedness of literacy and the development of rhetoric as an art, stating that “in a very deep sense the rhetorical tradition represented the old oral world and the philosophical tradition the new chirographic structures of thought,” and though rhetoric was a major part of life in oral cultures, “before writing [rhetoric] could never have been so reflectively prepared for or accounted for” (109-110). Additionally, he points out the ways in which oral culture continued to affect the written word for centuries carrying on the impression that “oratory was the paradigm of all verbal expression” (111). Ong claims that, up until the nineteenth century, oratory continued to influence the written word, including literary style and production. Richard Enos also discusses the shifts between orality and written culture in early Greek culture and the relationships between these practices and the art of oratory. Like McCorkle and Ong, Enos recognizes the role of technology in literacy, as well as the ties to the oral tradition, claiming, “writing came into existence by and because of technology. It serves to facilitate primary orality by supplying the benefits that are lacking in orality: stabilization of meaning, a prompt for acoustics, and an extension of memory” (11). Focusing on the ways in which writing and literacy were taught, Enos notes the pervasiveness of everyday writing for Athenian citizens in the fourth and fifth centuries BCE, and while students learned to write as part of their educations, “writing was not initially seen as an intellectual source of power but rather as a functional skill that served, at best, as a facilitator of the oral tradition of education….Writing instruction was inextricably tied to orality” (10). Writing provided a way for logographers such as Lysias and Isocrates to write speeches for others and sell them, thus again writing was enacted largely in the service of orality (23). During the fifth century BCE, writing in Athens “was shifting in emphasis from an aid to oratory to an art unto itself” and while this also precipitated a rise in literacy, “the actual ‘revolution,’ as recognized by thinkers such as Aristotle, was that writing instruction could be a system for enhancing more complex patterns of thought and expression” (27). In these ways, writing acted as a heuristic for engaging more complex thought in oral compositions, similar to the discussion by McCorkle, and altered the ways in which people were able to think and speak about complex ideas, a claim echoed by Ong. The upcoming chapters of Section One will cover parrhesia in Athenian democracy (Chapter 2), how parrhesia manifests in the Roman Republic as libertas and/or licentia (Chapter 3), how it changes in the face of autocratic rule in the Roman Empire, as well as the ways parrhesia manifests in early Christianity (Chapter 4). In each of these cases it should be kept in mind that the primary mode of delivery for parrhesia was through orality, while at the same time recalling that these orations were written down and circulated as texts though in much more limited quantities than we will see in Section Three, with the development of the printing press, and especially in the wide circulation practices of the nineteenth century. In the Classical era, however, written text supported the primary delivery means of orality, an aspect of parrhesia that should be kept in mind throughout Section One.
27 Chapter 2 Historicizing Parrhesia: Athenian Democracy and Philosophy
Parrhesia, as a specific type of activity that involves a risky critique of power, is strongly linked to other related concepts, such as freedom of speech, equality, and particular virtues such as courage, bravery, and civic duty. To understand the concept of parrhesia, it may be helpful to grasp a sense of the discursive field in which it arose, i.e., the terms, ideas, and practices to which it was closely related and from out of which parrhesia developed. Parrhesia in the classic sense is typically equated with Athenian democracy, though there are approximate linguistic and practical correlates in the Roman Republic, where Senators speaking out in the assemblies was an integral part of decision making. However, while other contemporaneous cultures, such as Sparta and Rome, also likely had freedom of speech in their private, and to a degree their civic lives, they lacked the specialized language to describe either free speech or parrhesia. The unique conceptual constructs designating particular kinds of freedoms in speaking, including parrhesia, demonstrates the particular importance of these practices for fifth century BCE Athenian society and politics (Raaflaub). This chapter examines the roots of parrhesia in Athenian democracy in the fifth century BCE, showing how this idea arose amidst related ideological and political transformations, and traces the changing meanings, contexts, and usage of this concept from that time until the fall of Athenian democracy near the end of the fourth century BCE. To show the role of parrhesia within this historical, political, and ideological context, I will examine the actions and works of rhetoricians such as Pericles (as described by Thucydides), Demosthenes, and Isocrates, all of whom lived from the time of the Golden Age of Athens in the mid-fifth century BCE until the invasion of Phillip of Macedon in 322 BCE, a period of approximately a century. Overlapping with, but also extending beyond this time, was the rise of parrhesia in a philosophic and interpersonal sense, as exemplified by Socrates in the writings of Plato. Socrates, who was born while Pericles still ruled Athens, shows both the philosophic implications of parrhesia, where truth telling occurs between individuals in more private settings, as well as the limitations of free speech within Athenian democracy, as he was executed ostensibly for the things he said, taught, and believed within that society. While Socratic/Platonic parrhesia may be represented as being enacted largely outside of the realm of politics and public discourse,13 Diogenes the Cynic—a contemporary of Plato from an alternative Socratic philosophic lineage— practiced parrhesia in a very public way, exercising his right of free speech in order to directly disrupt, transgress, and call into the question the values, norms, and practices of Greek society. While parrhesia operates in these contexts within political forms that at least nominally uphold the idea of free speech, it can—and does—also occur in monarchies and more repressive political regimes. By looking at writings from both Plato and Aristotle, I examine the role of parrhesia in speaking truth to autocratic rulers to show the different ways in which parrhesia can operate within these systems as well. This chapter describes the foundational uses of parrhesia in ancient Greece, as well as the ways in which its meanings changed alongside transforming political realms, ideology, and social contexts. The complex meanings, uses, and understandings
13 While the Platonic dialogs deal with issues of politics and at times heavily critique these areas, they were produced in settings that are not directly in the public, political realm. In fact, in the Apology, which will be examined in more detail later in this chapter, Socrates specifically justifies why he attempts to remain outside of the political realm as much as possible.
28 of parrhesia that occur during this time create the formative structure upon which conceptualizations of parrhesia continued to develop throughout the Greco-Roman world through the Classical era. This chapter provides a foundation for the historical roots of parrhesia that inform its practice throughout the remainder of this study.
Democracy, Rhetoric, and Parrhesia: Ideology and Language Language and ideology do not change quickly, and the transition from a clan and family based system of aristocratic leaders, to the constitutional power of the demos, was a process of gradual change that may have begun centuries before Athenian democracy arose. Jeremy McInerney argues that practice of isonomia, or equality before the law, had roots going back as far as eighth century Athenian colonization, which included equally distributing parcels of land amongst colonists, which disrupted traditional forms of aristocratic authority. In these colonies, because all owned equal amounts of property, more citizens were included in assemblies and political practices, and virtues such as truthfulness and justice were clearly embedded culturally.14 While McInerney does not claim that there is a direct line from these practices, nor that these practices were uniform across the various colonized cultures they founded, he does claim that this is where ideas of equality took root and that this marks the “marriage of equality (to ison) to public speaking (agoreuein) and hence to isegoria,” the equal right to speak before the law, that would come to be identified with Athens a few centuries in the future (37-38). Reforms in the Athenian constitutional government by Solon, Cleisthenes, and Ephialtes undermined the power of the aristocrats, giving citizens more control of government through direct voting procedures, changing the property requirements for holders of public office, increasing the power of the Assembly, and implementing the institution of ostracism, whereby any citizen whose power was becoming too great could be voted out of Athenian society for ten years. These measures set up a governmental system that put power (kratos) in the hands of the people (demos), or at least those considered citizens.15 Parrhesia was an integral part of Athenian freedom (eleutheria) and “in democratic thinking freedom of speech appears to be one of the most important and necessary ingredients of eleutheria” (Momigliano). Parrhesia was an integral representation of freedom and equality so that “the idea and practice of parrhesia was thought to be at the very heart of Athenian democracy’s coherence as a politeia” (Monoson 54). These particular ideas, which address related but distinct concepts, existed in a discursive constellation that worked to articulate the ideology at the foundation of Athenian democracy.
14 His work, entitled “Nereids, Colonies, and the Origins of Isegoria,” specifically examines the links between mythologies, colonization, and the ways in which early Athenian settlers set up political systems in remote areas. The names given to various nereids and myths of sea-faring from that time point to the importance of these virtues to these early colonists. 15 It should be noted that parrhesia in the classical, political sense was embedded within a complex hierarchical structure where the ability to speak frankly and openly, while seen as part of citizens’ civic duty, was also related to other systems of hierarchy, power, and reputation. First, not everyone was considered a citizen, so parrhesia as it relates to speaking to the Assembly does not apply to slaves, women, or foreign-born immigrants. Additionally, Foucault, Saxonhouse, and others note the complex interplay of reputation and lineage implicated in the practice of parrhesia, as reflected in the plays of Euripides, where issues of reputation and birth decide who has the right of free speech.
29 The ideological shift toward democracy that gave rise to parrhesia and classical rhetoric can also be viewed as a transition away from older ways of thinking about the cosmos as externally controlled by gods, to one of rationally-based inquiry and ideas of greater human agency. Cynthia Farrarr argues that this change in outlook is apparent when comparing the texts of Protagoras, Thucydides, and Democritus to those by Homer, and she makes the argument that the transition toward democracy also coincided with a shift in thinking about the cosmos at large, as a move from external to internal control where, “The transition from an externally-imposed order in which man figures as an all-but-unwitting agent to conscious participation in or ratification of an order still external and mysterious, and eventually a self-determination which declares its virtual independence of tuche or external control, is ultimately a political transition” (20). The transition from oligarchy to democracy likewise coincided with an alteration in the view of human beings within the cosmos where personal agency played a significant role in the daily life of Athenian politics. Concurrently with the rise of political parrhesia within the democracy of Athens also came the need for more citizens trained in the art of speaking. The beginning of the fifth century BCE “witnesses the rise of rhetoric, and the deep conviction that language is an instrument that can be used to influence other people,” and that while eloquence had long been the province of kings and leaders, with the ascendency of democracy in Athens, more people had access to and need of rhetorical skills (Sluiter and Rosen 8). In the climate of speaking freely as part of the working democracy of Athens, “rhetoric is in part the result of democratic practice, and increases in turn the importance of free speech—for it is free speech which guarantees access to the powerful instrument of language” (Sluiter and Rosen 8). In the climate of classical Athenian democracy, rhetoric and democracy were part of the same domain of speaking freely in the political realm, discursively and cooperatively constructed by the concepts of isonomia (equal rights among citizens), isegoria (the specific equal right to speak), parrhesia (the act of speaking frankly), and rhetoric (the ability to do so persuasively and with eloquence). The right of isegoria made skillful oratory more common and necessary, but also opened the possibility of speakers who manipulated audiences for their own personal gain, rather than for the good of the polis. For these reasons, while Athenians enjoyed performances of oratorical skill, they were also suspicious of the motives of skilled orators, thus calling upon parrhesia as a way to point toward the speaker’s honesty, integrity, and desire to serve the polis became part of displaying virtue to the crowd (Monoson 59-60). The desired outcome of instilling the value of parrhesia within Athenian democracy was a hope that if speakers spoke truthfully, openly, and with frankness about issues pertaining to the good of the polis, that it would encourage the “collective wisdom of the demos” in making choices for the greater good, as these issues and arguments would be subjected to the scrutiny of many (Monoson 62). Similarly, a shift occurred in the importance of logic and deliberation, as well as identity as based within the polis, rather than as part of a clan or family. This shift in the locus of identity also shows the interconnected nature of parrhesia and oratory within democracy, where the ability of orators to deliberate publicly was hoped to create the ability for citizens to make more rational, prudent choices as they could hear open debate on multiple sides of an issue. Orators, who understood the risks of speaking frankly before an audience, foregrounded parrhesia as an act of courage, stressing that speaking freely and frankly took bravery, so that oratory itself promoted and developed fearlessness. In this way, the practice of oratory could enhance these virtues and they “argued that their courage enabled them to overcome the temptations to resort to illicit, or at least shameful, means of acquiring or maintaining political power” (Balot 243).
30 However, Balot also notes that some ambitious or unscrupulous individuals would purposely make their proposals in alignment with what they expected the demos wanted to hear, as the demos was “all-powerful and was ultimately responsible for the speakers’ freedom to speak altogether” in an environment where “the community’s interests and desires took precedence over those of any individual” (245). Athenian orators developed the ethos of courage, presenting themselves as the “’real men’ of their day” entrusted with embedding these values within the practices of the polis to promote both virtue and rationality in decision-making processes. While it may be difficult from our historic vantage point to understand the dangerous aspects of parrhesia within the political context of the Assembly, these acts of speaking were fraught with risk from a variety of sources. First of all, the citizens of the Assembly could be rowdy and would shout down a speaker if they either didn’t approve of his message or if he took too long to speak. Although Athenian citizens were allowed to say nearly anything in the Assembly, no guarantees were offered that they would be heard or listened to. Because speakers could be shouted down by those assembled, the pressure that some speakers felt to pander to the audience made the need for parrhesia in deliberation all the more pressing. The crowd and its reaction were strong factors in public addresses both in the Assembly and in the courts, but rather than seeing this as a limitation to free speech, Robert Wallace interprets it as a demonstration of the functionality of free speech in that the power of the crowd allowed them to regulate debate, representing the community’s power of free speech by not limiting how they could react to a speaker so that the public was able to express its views freely (221-31). The outspokenness of the crowd made speaking freely, frankly, and without fear a daunting prospect for those wishing to speak before the Assembly. Because of these risks, parrhesia, which incorporated aspects of courage and duty, was needed in order for Athenian democracy to function as intended. Additionally, the perception of the demos at this time was one of significant power; they were constitutionally granted the freedom of self-rule, and also had the power of numbers on their side, so that their favor, consent, and approval were absolutely vital for the functioning of the government. The power of the demos created challenges to orators who wished to address public audiences as there was a “shared belief that the demos held supreme power through its control of the Assembly and the courts, and could largely do as it pleased,” along with the belief that the demos had higher standards of morality than politicians, all of which put the public speaker at a disadvantage (Roisman 263). The audience was not constrained by measures or rules, which meant that they could disrupt a speech at will and could either help or hurt the persuasiveness of a speaker, depending upon if their response was positive or negative. The possibility of audience hostility could be an intimidating experience for many speakers and also created the need for rhetors to be responsive to the audience’s wishes and moods, as well as its power. At the same time, orators had to become more effective through their use of persuasion and “the power struggle between a speaker and his audience encompassed not only his ability to speak in public but also his right to speak his mind….that is, to speak with parrhesia, in order to bend the people to his will” (Roisman 268). Because Athenian democracy permitted frankness of speech, orators were able to call upon their own ethos and specific expertise attempting to convince the demos of their need for wise counsel and guidance. Orators presented themselves as necessary critics and counselors where “the good adviser [is] the one who is supposed to see developments at their inception, to foretell and warn against them, to overcome impediments inherent in the government of the polis, and to create a positive atmosphere and motivation toward action” (Roisman 275). In this sense, parrhesia was a kind of “frank speech ideally
31 expected of [orators] in their roles as advisers to the demos” and reflected the “intellectual autonomy” of these speakers (53). Two ideas closely associated with parrhesia are criticism and truth telling, and it is the ability to speak out even amidst risk which asserts the honesty and integrity of the speaker in his ethos to the audience. Additionally, Monoson asserts that the logos – that truth to which the parrhesiastes speaks – does not have to be flawless or transcendent of the moment; rather, it is the speaker’s ability to genuinely speak to what he or she believes to be true at that time and in that situation (53, 60). In this way, orators could exercise their right of parrhesia and exert power over an audience as an advisor necessary for the guidance of the polis by offering advice to the demos, even when – or perhaps especially when – that advice was unpopular or difficult to hear. The role of the orator as public advisor and leader of deliberative debate made them the embodiment of parrhesia in Athenian democracy, with rhetoric as the central mode of communication. Because of the primary role of the polis in the lives and identities of the citizens of Athens, rhetoric had to serve a useful purpose for those ends in order for it to thrive as a medium for democratic functioning. Though rhetor means “speaker” and was a term used to describe any citizen who addressed the Assembly, it can also refer to “citizens who concerned themselves with politics full-time in an attempt to establish long-term leadership; thus, rhetor is often translated as ‘politician,’” though it should also be kept in mind that these rhetors had no special office or legal position, nor enjoyed any greater formal political power than did the typical citizen (Yunis 10). These rhetors spent a great deal of time on the task of educating citizens about relevant issues and were primary sources of information for the purpose of educating the public about affairs that affected the polis. They had to be willing to both prepare orations and withstand the competitive nature of the Assembly, as well as the potential risk of being held accountable for their words in court. Rhetors required “a taste for competition, beyond reputation and status, and beyond useful knowledge and experience, to exert leadership in democratic Athens [and also] required skill at public speaking (Yunis 11-12). Deliberative rhetoric, with the intent to persuade through advice or instruction, was a primary concern for the rhetors, and it is through political rhetoric that leadership and power is constituted in a democracy. For democracy to work, the demos must be persuaded by words to engage in wise actions, and in an ideal situation, “rhetoric must persuade the auditors, but mere persuasion does not suffice to accomplish the higher tasks: what is wanted is the creation in the minds of the audience of an enlightened self-understanding that actually dispels conflict and realizes the politically harmonious community” (Yunis 28). The type of free speech in which rhetors engaged embodied elements of pedagogy and politics, where frank, truthful speech was viewed as necessary in order for democracy to function. Parrhesia as duty-driven free speech in order to tell the audience the truth in the service of ongoing sustainability of the polis via education, deliberation, and frankness was not without problems. First, it should be noted that parrhesia in the classical, political sense was embedded within a complex, stratified structure where the ability to speak frankly and openly, while seen as part of citizens’ civic duty, was also related to other systems of hierarchy, power, and reputation. However, not everyone was considered a citizen, so parrhesia as it relates to speaking to the Assembly does not apply to slaves, women, or foreign-born immigrants. Some of the problems and critiques of parrhesia are reflected in the plays of Euripides, where issues of reputation and birth decide who has this right of free speech. For instance, in Ion, the title character, who is naturally a truth-teller and wants to go to Athens, needs to know first who his mother is because until he knows whether or not she is Athenian, he cannot invoke his
32 right of parrhesia because for anyone who is a foreigner “his mouth remains a slave: he has no right of free speech” (Foucault Fearless 50). The discourse found in Ion shows that “despite the fact that it is in the nature of his character to be a parrhesiastes, he cannot legally institutionally use this natural parrhesia with which he is endowed if his mother is not Athenian. Parrhesia is not a right given equally to all Athenian citizens, but only to those who are especially prestigious through their family and their birth” (Foucault Fearless 51). Cresua (Ion’s mother, although he does not know this because she abandoned him at birth after being raped/seduced by Apollo) does not speak of political life with her parrhesia but rather discloses the crimes of Apollo as well as her own. In this discussion of Ion, Foucault contrasts personal and political parrhesia, showing the constraints of social position and gender within Athenian society and democracy represented in this work by Euripides. Another critique of parrhesia noted in Euripides comes from the play Orestes, and is the only example of pejorative parrhesia in his works. In the context of this play, parrhesia is represented as “ignorant outspokenness” where speakers invoking parrhesia talk on and on saying nothing. According to Foucault, “This notion of being athuroglossos, or of being athurostomia (one who has a mouth without a door), refers to someone who is an endless babbler, who cannot keep quiet, and is prone to say whatever comes to mind” (Fearless 63) and is synonymous with the pejorative form of parrhesia and is the exact opposite of parrhesia in the positive sense. The problem arises, then, in how to tell the difference between what must be said and that which should not be because it is not useful or relevant to the wellbeing of the polis. In the early works of Euripides, only the positive notion of parrhesia is presented, whereas in Orestes “there is a split within parrhesia itself between its positive and negative sense, and the problem of parrhesia occurs solely within the field of human parrhesiastic roles” which Foucault denotes as a “crisis of parrhesia” (Fearless 72). If everyone has the right to speak and is entitled, how can truly beneficial free speech be delineated from that which is harmful or irrelevant? Foucault notes that this is where the crux of the problem with truth lies, “for the problem is one of recognizing who is capable of speaking the truth within the limits of an institutional system where everyone is equally entitled to give his opinion… [where]…. parrhesia, as a verbal activity, as pure frankness in speaking, is also not sufficient to disclose truth since negative parrhesia, ignorant outspokenness, can also result” (Fearless 73). Additional problems can arise if parrhesia, rather than being taken on as a genuine duty, is instead imitated with the sole purpose of falsely increasing the ethos of the speaker so that he appears to be truthful when in fact he is not. Elizabeth Markovitz examines this problem in both Athens and current political discourse, and while her analysis seems to focus primarily on the problem of sincerity in political speech, the point that parrhesia might be imitated as a “rhetoric of anti-rhetoric” and become nothing more than a rhetorical trope is well taken (74). Markovitz notes that Cleon, who rose to power after the death of Pericles, clearly did not have the interests of democratic debate in mind when he claims to use parrhesia, and yet because of the high value placed upon parrhesia in Athens, this tactic was largely successful. Additionally, Foucault notes that within a democracy, though all citizens are accorded equality before the law, through the use of frank speech and rhetoric—synonymous in this context—one particular citizen might come to power over others. Pericles, who often invokes parrhesiastic tactics and approaches in his highly persuasive oratory, gained ascendance over other citizens largely because of his abilities to speak frankly and persuasively, which gave him tremendous power within Athenian democracy. The possibility for a persuasive orator to gain ascendency in itself creates a problem for democracy. Because “rule by the people” is the highest
33 ideal, a parrhesiastes such as Pericles consistently delivers a “discourse of truth” both necessary for, and dangerous to, an optimally functioning democracy, as this quality can create a power imbalance where the parrhesiastes will dominates over others (Foucault Government 174-180). At the same time, this power was freely given by the demos to a leader whom they trusted, and that trust was largely predicated upon his effective invocation of parrhesia in his rhetorical approach to leadership.
Pericles: First Among the Citizens Pericles was a prominent leader of Athens from approximately 461—429 BCE and is known as the quintessential orator and champion of Athenian democracy. He is viewed by many as the exemplary parrhesiastes, the orator who speaks truth before the crowd even when he stands alone and when doing so carries risk. At the inception of democracy in Athens, institutionally legitimized parrhesia was imagined as an embedded part of political life, where elected leaders, who were generally also skilled orators, were expected to speak truly and with integrity in order to guide the polis in civically productive ways. In the so-called Golden Age of Athenian democracy, parrhesia and rhetoric appear to be largely synonymous, with the orators of Athens ostensibly playing a significant role in promoting and maintaining democracy. In this regard, Pericles was both the model orator and parrhesiastes, and Thucydides notes the power that this rhetor held to speak out in order to uphold the community values or truth claims, even when his views were at first unpopular: Pericles indeed, by his rank, ability, and known integrity, was enabled to exercise an independent control over the multitude – in short, to lead them instead of being led by them; for as he never sought power by improper means, he was never compelled to flatter them, but, on the contrary, enjoyed so high an estimation that he could afford to anger them by contradiction. (Second Book, Ch VII) In this description, Pericles is esteemed specifically because he refuses to flatter his audience, a practice which could constitute seeking power by “improper means,” and instead is willing to risk the anger of the Athenians through parrhesia by saying what needs to be said rather than what his audience wants to hear. Though his audiences may not have found his oratory “pleasing,” the agitation they experienced was secondary to the trust they put in Pericles because of the virtues he displayed, such as courage, honesty, and forthrightness. These virtues, as evidenced by his parrhesia, allowed him to rule successively for four decades, which required the ongoing confidence of the Athenian people, who elected him repeatedly each year. According to Plutarch, Pericles “for forty years together maintained the first place among statesmen…in the exercise of one unintermitted command in the office, to which he was annually reelected, of General, he preserved his integrity unspotted” (XVI). In the context of democratic Athens, this means that he had to be popular enough with the citizens to be reelected to leadership positions every year and this popularity came, not from flattering his audience, but from telling them the truth as he saw it, frankly and with parrhesia. The rhetorical appeal of Pericles was described by Plutarch as “Olympian” and he was “an orator endowed with a power of rhetoric that combined both authority and pedagogy” (Azoulay 40). Pericles was controversial because of the political reforms he put forth, which furthered the movement of Athenian rule in more radically democratic directions, a position that was not popular amongst the aristocratic class of Athens. He rose to power through his rhetorical skills and ability to reflect and model the ideals of this new form of government, and though the transition to democracy occurred over time, Pericles “played the chief role in transforming it from a limited
34 democracy where the common people still deferred to their aristocratic betters to a fully confident popular government in which the mass of the people were fully sovereign in fact as well as theory” (Kagan 3). While these practices were surely popular with the demos, he very specifically did not flatter them while speaking, and did make many unpopular strategic suggestions, especially around the fighting of the Peloponnesian War, to which the Athenian citizens had to be persuaded. Pericles became known for his use of parrhesia and oratory, speaking the truth as he saw it, both frankly and with eloquence, and by doing so persuaded, united, and educated the citizens of Athens. Part of the challenge for democracy in Athens was to call upon the citizens to identify as citizens of the polis, rather than to hold former alliances with families and clans, and to make the transition from aristocratic rule to governance by the citizens writ large. Pericles was instrumental in solidifying these principles and inspiring citizenship that extended beyond old ties of clan and family, and he helped create a constitution upholding values in which the citizenry would find “a way of life that was unique and worthy of sacrifice” (Kagan 141). Aristocratic values were still powerfully attractive to Greeks in Athenian society so Pericles claims these values as potentially available to all members of society; rather than reducing quality in order to include all people, Pericles incorporates that excellence into his ideology as available to the populace as a whole, rather than to only a few elite. In this regard, “the Athenian democracy, Pericles asserts, raises all its citizens to the level of noblemen by asking them to take part in the political life and so to control their own destiny” (Kagan 144). From our current historic moment, the notion of noble qualities for all and a government ruled by the people may seem like apparent or self-evident appeals, but in the time Pericles made these claims, democracy was viewed as a radical shift from former means of aristocratic power. While this shift away from rule by the few to rule by the many occurred in multiple steps via constitutional changes across decades, Pericles very boldly called upon democratic values in his orations, a position that did not make him popular amongst aristocratic families that still held quite a bit of power in Athens. Freedom of speech for all citizens, and the duty to speak up in service of the polis even when doing so might anger the audience, was an integral part of the ideology that Pericles envisioned. As part of that vision, parrhesia was necessary in order to speak clearly and directly to and about the values of the community and to further ensure clear, open deliberation. In his famous “Funeral Oration,” Pericles calls upon democratic values and practices of parrhesiastic speech as the basis of his praise of Athens, and with which he connects the identities of the Athenians who listen. As is expected of epideictic oratory in the context of a memorial for the dead, Pericles first recognizes those who have fallen in battle, as well as the forefathers and ancestors who established Athens. In his “Funeral Oration,” the free, autonomous voice of the parrhesiastes in democracy is contrasted with the fearful silence of those living under tyranny. Parrhesia represents both the duty of the citizen within a democracy to speak in service of the polis, as well as evidence of the freedoms guaranteed by that democracy (Monoson 55), a contrast that Pericles highlights in this famous oration. He commends Athenian democracy saying, "Our constitution does not copy the laws of neighbouring states; we are rather a pattern to others than imitators ourselves. Its administration favours the many instead of the few; this is why it is called a democracy. If we look to the laws, they afford equal justice to all in their private differences” (Thucydides II). He invokes particular values such as valor, courage, fearlessness, and freedom as the basis of his praise and as qualities he assigns to all Athenians, not just the aristocrats or military. He notes that it is virtue and reputation that recommend particular men to public charge rather than class considerations and states, “nor again does
35 poverty bar the way, if a man is able to serve the state, he is not hindered by the obscurity of his condition” (Thucydides II). The freedom Pericles points to in the government is likewise reflected in the day-to day-lives of the citizens where “far from exercising a jealous surveillance over each other, we do not feel called upon to be angry with our neighbour for doing what he likes” while at the same time “all this ease in our private relations does not make us lawless as citizens” (Thucydides II). This balance of freedom with law, autonomy and order, was one of the basic difficulties for democracy to reconcile, a quandary that is only compatible with self- rule. Pericles is cited as the person who made the balance between freedom and stability an ideologically and politically feasible endeavor and his persuasion was able to bring order out of lawlessness in Athens, while still upholding greater freedoms than many other contemporaneous Greek societies enjoyed (Farrar 14, 29). Further into the war the people of Athens became angry with his policies and in the final speech of Pericles (recorded by Thucydides) Pericles chastises the citizens for their lack of persistence and fortitude in the ongoing war with Sparta and acknowledges the risk he takes in speaking to the citizens who are angry at him. Unlike many politicians who use flattery to win assent, Pericles refused to engage in these tactics, and instead “called upon [the citizens] to rise above their fears and short-range self-interest…[and]… when necessary, he was willing to chastise them and risk their anger” (Kagan 8). Pericles was aware that he made unpopular suggestions to the demos at times and that he sometimes incurred their anger, and in his final recorded speech he addresses the crowd saying, "I expected this outbreak of anger on your part against me, since I understand the reasons for it; and I have called an assembly with this object in view: to remind you of your previous resolutions and to put forward my own case against you” (Thucydides II). Though his policy is unpopular at the time, and though he is only one man who speaks to a large, angry crowd delivering a message they will likely not want to hear, Pericles chastises the Athenians asking, “Is it not wrong to act as you are doing now? For you have been so dismayed by disaster in your homes that you are losing your grip on the common safety; you are attacking me for having spoken in favor of war and yourselves for having voted for it,” reminding them that they, themselves, voted for and approved the current plan of action (Thucydides II). Rather than appealing to the crowd through flattery, Pericles instead speaks with parrhesia – frankly, and from the truth as he sees it. He claims the ethos of an orator who speaks as “one who loves his city and one who is above being influenced by money,” and because of his love of Athens and its democracy, he speaks out to a potentially volatile crowd to persuade them to the course of action he believes to be the wisest (Thucydides II). Ultimately, the Peloponnesian War was lost, whether by the fault of Pericles as Plutarch believed a few centuries later, or because of those who took over and subverted a false parrhesia for their own gains, as Thucydides reports. Though it is impossible to reconstruct all of the causes accurately from our historic vantage point, sources agree that Athens declined in many regards after the death of Pericles and the practice of free speech, which had once flourished even when it was unpopular or carried risk, came under attack from a variety of directions.16 The waning state of parrhesia coincides with a growing lack of tolerance for free speech, especially that which appears to undermine the narrowing ideology of imperial Athens. The dangers of this decline are evidenced in the execution of Socrates thirty years after the death of Pericles, which marks a transition of parrhesia from the political/public to parrhesia as philosophical/private, an
16 For a nuanced discussion of the potential reasons for the decline of Athenian democracy, see Vincent Azoulay’s “After Pericles” in Pericles of Athens.
36 issue that will be taken up later in this chapter. At the same time, resistance to this narrowing of tolerance is equally evident in the actions of Diogenes of Sinope, who took philosophical parrhesia to a very public extreme. Either way, parrhesia as a political institution waned in importance in Athenian democracy, though it did not disappear without a fight.
Demosthenes: The Last Great Athenian Orator Demosthenes, who lived from 384-322 BCE, is arguably the last great orator of the waning Athenian democracy who invoked political parrhesia as the basis of his ethos. Calling upon values of honesty and courage, beginning in 351 BCE, he urged the Athenian citizens to take action against Phillip II of Macedon, whose military power he saw as a threat to the freedom of all the Greek city-states, including Athens. For his parrhesiastic rhetorical performances, Demosthenes was eventually executed, a risk taken on by many parrhesiastes in the face of encroaching forces of power. Demosthenes, who studied Thucydides, used some of the same rhetorical tactics and constructed ethos in ways similar to Pericles approximately one hundred years earlier. Demosthenes was both a rhetorical theorist and rhetor, and also heavily utilized the then-new practices of publishing his own political speeches—he was one of the first, and potentially the first to do this, and though it was still not a wholly accepted practice, it did distribute his arguments to a wider audience than just the Assembly, which still relied primarily upon oral communication (Yunis 241-7). Demosthenes distinguishes between good and bad rhetoric— good rhetors are honest while the bad are duplicitous, and while this assertion seems self-evident, in the context in which Demosthenes was speaking, it was necessary to make this distinction, as he often delivered unfavorable news along with unpopular suggestions for dealing with outside threats to Athens. For Demosthenes, “a rhetor must aim rather for some communal achievement in the real world than at an impressive speech that gratifies the audience at the time of speaking” (Yunis 250). Demosthenes invokes the power of parrhesia – to speak frankly and truthfully as more requisite than eloquence – proposed by Pericles nearly a hundred years before. As in the Golden Age of Athens while Pericles ruled, Demosthenes speaks from a place of expertise, invoking the ethos of the orator as advisor serving the polis for its best interest rather than his own. This dedication to the veracity of an ideal—in this case the freedom of Athens—often drives parrhesiastic rhetoric, and will motivate the rhetor to speak out even when doing so becomes risky. Demosthenes puts himself forward as “the political expert, possessing knowledge, experienced, and unquestioned integrity” (Yunis 276) as someone who can speak to and for the continued safety and values of the polis. In addition, he addresses a large audience in the Athenian Assembly “of ordinary citizens, most of whom were not of outstanding intelligence and so could not be expected to respond to an abstruse or difficult speech [thus] to secure lucidity he generally uses ordinary language and avoids unusual poetic or philosophical expressions” (Macdowell 399). Through speaking as a concerned citizen and rhetor, as well as using blunt, direct language, he invokes parrhesia, calling upon it as an ethical basis for his speaking on numerous occasions. For instance, at the end of the “First Philippic,” Demosthenes claims he has spoken with parrhesia, characterized by frankness, openness, and at risk to himself while avoiding flattery. In the conclusion of this speech he claims: I have never yet tried to win your favor by saying anything that I did not believe to be to your advantage, and now I have shared everything I know with you candidly, holding nothing back. Just as I know that it is in your interest to hear the best advice, so I wish I
37 knew that the giving of such advice would benefit the man who composed the best speech—I would be much happier if that were the case. As it is, although the consequences for me are unclear, nevertheless I choose to speak in the firm conviction that you will benefit from agreeing to this policy. (87) The claim of speaking “candidly, holding nothing back,” is sometimes translated as “I have spoken my plain sentiments with parrhesia” (Monoson 61) and these qualities of directness, honesty, and risk are the primary constituents of that concept. Though he does not know how the crowd will take his advice or if it will be to his benefit, he feels certain that the things he proposes are for the best interest of the polis, and from this belief he is compelled to speak. Likewise, at the end of the “Fourth Philippic,” Demosthenes speaks in a similar manner, cautioning the audience to ignore flattering but unwise counsel and instead to heed his warnings, which he presents with parrhesia. After offering his advice for the best course of action for Athens to take he says: That is the candid truth. I have offered the best advice in a spirit of goodwill, instead of flattering speech full of harm and deception, which will make money for its speaker but will surrender the affairs of the city to our enemies. Either you must abandon these habits or you will have no one to blame but yourselves for our utter failure. (200) Again, Demosthenes calls upon qualities of truth, frankness, and a lack of flattery to the audience, while also specifically noting that if Athens faces “utter failure” that it is they who will be responsible. Placing this type of responsibility for failure on the crowd was surely true in the case of democracy—it was, indeed, their vote that would decide what action Athens would take—and at the same time it is rather blunt and unflattering to those who heard his words. This is typical for the style of oratory in which Demosthenes engaged. Instead of addressing the Athenians in a pleasing or flattering way, Demosthenes delivers his foreboding message of potential doom in the “Third Philippic” in very direct terms, saying: I see that all our advantages have been so undermined and thrown away that – I fear it is ill omened to say, but it is true – if all the regular speakers wished to speak, and you wished to vote, in such a way as to make your situation as bad as possible, I do not think that things could be any worse than they are now. (155) This means of direct speaking even when doing so is risky or unpopular is characteristic of parrhesia and Harvey Yunis notes “a remarkable feature of his political rhetoric – the utter bluntness with which he delivers his disagreeable advice…[and]… at no point does he reduce the bluntness of his message in order to paint a pretty picture” (257, 261). For Demosthenes, speaking frankly to the Assembly, even when his message was unpopular, was a mark of his own ethos as a speaker and a reflection of his rhetorical theory, intricately entwined with the ideology of a functioning democracy. Though parrhesia was still upheld as a virtue at this point in Athenian political history, as in the past, there was no protection for those exercising this right. This risk, to which Demosthenes repeatedly points in his orations, also helped build the ethos of the truth-teller’s integrity in that he was willing to speak out despite these risks, knowing he would not be protected from humiliation, public wrath, fines, or law suits. Demosthenes further asserts in “On Organization” that democracy is in danger when no one dares to speak truthfully in the Assembly, showing he clearly believed that these critical voices were necessary to the functioning of democracy as envisioned in Athens. In fact, in his speeches, he uses the term parrhesia twenty-six times and it can be argued that in some of the works of Demosthenes, “parrhesia is most emphatically the right of the Athenian citizen” (Momigliano 260).
38 Unfortunately for Athenian democracy, the people were persuaded of the encroaching dangers of Philip II of Macedon too late, and Athens eventually lost its freedom in 322 BCE. Demosthenes, instrumental in leading an uprising against Alexander the Great, Philip’s successor, chose to take his own life rather than be arrested once the revolt was put down. His oratorical legacy, influenced by Pericles, was later picked up by Cicero and “since antiquity [Demosthenes] has usually been judged as the greatest of the Attic orators” (Gagarin 1). This great oratorical ability was founded in the ethos of parrhesia, and may be the last instance of institutionally legitimized parrhesia found in classical democracy, where an orator specifically exercised his right and duty of parrhesia within the assembly in order to speak freely about an unpopular truth which he saw as imperative to the survival of the state. His life ended because of his outspoken frankness against Philip of Macedon, which further demonstrates the risky act of speaking parrhesiastically in an uncertain political climate, and yet also why this is often precisely the most opportune and necessary time to do so.
Isocrates and the Problem of Parrhesia Even by the time Demosthenes was delivering his orations, an ideological shift in focus away from civic duty as the central defining component of Athenian citizenship was already occurring. The institutions of democracy in Athens, of such integral importance in the time of Pericles, were declining, either in effectiveness, importance, or both. At the same time, the idea of free speech and parrhesia were already built into the foundations of the society and were clearly articulated as cultural practices but were now more focused in less public interactions so that “people were more interested in private life and private virtues and vices than in political achievements… and parrhesia as a private virtue replaced parrhesia as a political right” (Momigliano 260). As democracy moved further away from its idealized beginnings, and as philosophers and rhetoricians critiqued the practices of parrhesia specifically and democracy in general, we can trace a transition of parrhesia from the political, public realm to the more philosophic and private realm. In the years immediately following the rule of Pericles, parrhesia is still clearly an privileged virtue in Athenian society, and some lament the lack of sincerity and truth in political discourse. Demosthenes often critiqued other orators who worked to sway the crowd by appealing to flattery and saying what they wanted to hear rather than what was true. Isocrates, who lived from 436-338 BCE, was a contemporary of Plato who wrote political speeches and taught rhetoric. In his work, he discussed the problems of parrhesia and flattery in politics, and it is clear that these ideas were central points of critique, as he uses the term parrhesia twenty-two times in his work (Momigliano 260). In “On the Peace,” Isocrates makes reference to both public and private uses of truth telling versus flattery, highlighting the danger of the latter. Isocrates warns his audience of the consequences of believing flattery in their public lives, a lesson they seem to be more willing to learn in their private affairs, and points out that although they know “many great houses have been ruined by flatterers and while in your private affairs you abhor those who practice this art, in your public affairs you are not so minded towards them” (8.4). In a parrhesiastic move himself, Isocrates chastises the audience for this incongruity, pointing out their culpability for the state of oratory in Athens saying, “in the past you have formed the habit of driving all the orators from the platform except those who support your desires…[and]… you have caused the orators to practice and study, not what will be advantageous to the state, but how they may discourse in a manner pleasing to you” (8.3-5). In this sense, Isocrates points out what the audience already knows, i.e. that flattery without truth is unwise to follow, and also holds
39 them responsible for following this advice in their private lives but not their public, political ones. This also indicates an ethic that will be taken up more fully by Plato and others, where parrhesia, the act of speaking frankly and from a place of truth, occurs largely in private interactions rather than in the political arena. Isocrates critiques the post-Periclean Athenian democracy, comparing it to a past, idealized form of that government in the time of Solon, Cleisthenes, and Pericles in “Areopagiticus.” From his perspective, the virtues once upheld by the people and rhetors in Athens were no longer followed and he contrasts these with current practices saying that the past society was not one “which trained the citizens in such fashion that they looked upon insolence as democracy, lawlessness as liberty, impudence of speech as equality, and license to do what they pleased as happiness” (7.20). Rather than the semi-lawless free-for-all that he and others note, the former brand of democracy instead “punished such men and by so doing made all the citizens better and wiser” (7.20). Again, in this text, Isocrates utilizes a parrhesiastic stance of the frank truth-teller who chastises his audience, as he points to the idealized version of Athenian virtues from a supposedly more perfected past. This shows not only his willingness to tell unpleasant truths to his audience by pointing out where they are not in alignment with their own stated values, but also indicates a growing disillusionment with the ability of the demos to act in accordance with those values at all. These issues with democratic practices, likewise echoed by other contemporaries of Isocrates such as Plato, may offer clues as to why parrhesia as a political institution slowly transformed into a more private, philosophical one. These values, in actual practice, did not seem to produce the desired effects imagined in the Periclean project of an idealized, educated demos that would deliberate and make choices based upon reason, truth, and civic duty.
Socrates to Plato: A Retreat into Philosophy While parrhesia was certainly a fundamental concept and practice in the political workings of Athenian democracy, this type of frank speech in the service of truth also manifested in more private and philosophic situations as well. Additionally, though parrhesia was still invoked by orators such as Demosthenes in the mid-fourth century BCE, the problems with parrhesia had become more apparent, or were at least critiqued more harshly, and rhetoricians and philosophers alike comment upon the difficulties of flattery instead of truth in both the political and private realms. Socrates, noted by Plato and others as a truth-teller willing to take great risks in service of that truth, utilizes parrhesia in the Platonic dialogs in a variety of ways. The Socratic tradition, as transmitted from Socrates by Plato through Aristotle, is one of the post-political routes parrhesia takes in the Western tradition. As the efficacy of democracy waned, and especially as it fell to external rule and oligarchy, freedom of speech was less tolerated than it had been previously, which may account for the execution of Socrates. By examining the literary record of his trial as portrayed by Plato, it is possible to see his role as parrhesiastes in Athens at the beginning of the fourth century BCE and the very apparent risks he takes in speaking. Furthermore, it is possible to trace in the Apology the critique of politics and rhetoric, as well as the shift of parrhesiastic speech from public, political spaces to more private, philosophical ones. It is difficult to definitively describe the position of Socrates as speaking in either the public or private realms, as perceptions of Socrates that most scholars rely upon are those that come from Plato. While Socrates is often associated with the shift of parrhesia into the more private, philosophical realm, is it possible that this perception has more to do with Plato
40 retreating from public, political life than reflecting the actual actions of Socrates, about which we know little. The Platonic dialogs tend to take place in elite, sequestered spaces as conversations between relatively privileged, educated men, rather than, say, in the public square or the Assembly. For these reasons, Socrates is often associated as representing this shift, but it could easily be argued that this perception is based upon Plato’s rejection of acting directly in the political realm, which may have been affected by the execution of Socrates as a political maneuver to remove a problematic parrhesiastic citizen. While Plato’s writings deal with issues of public concern, most of them are contextualized within the practice of one-on-one or small group discussions rather than presented as orations or addresses to large crowds, and Plato’s distaste of political rhetoric is evident in several of his writings. While the Apology is set within a public space, Socrates is there by order, not by choice, and he eschews political rhetoric and participation in public life within that text as well. For these reasons, the dialogs are often viewed as an example of the shift of parrhesia from the public/political realm to the more private/philosophical one, and while this distinction is not a hard binary, it is the general way in which scholars tend to treat Plato’s variation in the way parrhesia manifests. I would further argue that Socrates himself was largely a public figure—his perspectives inspired other philosophical practices beyond only Plato—and yet the prevailing image of Socrates comes from what Plato wrote about him. In fact, as I will examine later, other followers of his took his philosophy in a very different direction than the studied, elite, dialectic represented in Plato. In this sense, however, “public” refers to activities of the state,17 which include politics and rhetoric within them. What Socrates represents—or more to the point, Plato—is a rejection of these realms as they are manifest in Athens at that time where “true discourse” can only exist in the relative privacy of well-bred company. This shift in the spaces where parrhesia was welcome represents the uneven, gradual transition away from the Periclean parrhesiastic ideal where that ideal could, at least in Plato’s estimation, only be enacted in the realm of the private. While criticisms of politics and rehtoric are taken up in other Platonic dialogs, such as the Republic and Gorgias, the Apology shows in stark relief the potential risks for parrhesiastic speech, even in Athens at a time when free speech was ostensibly highly valued. The death of Socrates is often pointed to as a failure of democracy or as a question about the nature of free speech in the context of democratic Athens. Although parrhesia was considered the right of citizens at the time, Socrates was still executed though he “had practiced what the Athenians regarded as an inviolable right – παῤῥησία, freedom of speech or the willingness to say it all” (Antisthenes Navia 83). While some view the Apology, and indeed all of Plato’s writing, as part of an ongoing critique of democracy, others interpret the Dialogs as engaging “a substantial measure of ambivalence, not unequivocal hostility” towards democracy, and by appropriating the political concept of parrhesia for philosophy, Plato “depict[s] the difficult relationship between philosophic and democratic practice” (Monoson 3, 154). As Foucault notes, the parrhesia displayed by Socrates “is not a directly, immediately political parresia. It is a parresia which stands back in relation to politics” and is more concerned about the subject within politics than with direct political action itself (Government 320-1). This complicated relationship of philosophy and politics, the private and the public, is woven throughout Platonic discourse and displays the valorization of a particular type of parrhesiastic speech, as well as a critique of democracy as it unfolded in Athens in the fourth century BCE.
17 See Chapter 1 for a more detailed description of the perceptions of private and public at the time of Greek city-state political systems as delineated by Habermas.
41 In all of the Dialogs, Socrates is portrayed as a parrhesiastes, one who speaks truth and constantly seeks after truth in both himself and others. In the Apology, Socrates is portrayed as making a public parrhesiastic stand during his trial, of refusing to play the political game, which he sees as corrupt, even when his refusal costs him his life. For Saxonhouse, who examines the relationship between parrhesia and aidos (shame) in Athens, the trial of Socrates, which seems to be a paradox within a climate that is so proud of its parrhesia, comes about because of the lack of shame displayed by Socrates where “parrhesia in its capacity of revealing denies the division between public and private, what is shared and what is hidden” (111). Socrates as a visible man does not demonstrate community standards of piety toward the gods, nor suitable deference for traditions or institutions, and as such is a threat to Athenian democracy and social stability. For Socrates, his private life is his public life and vice versa: “There is no secret Socrates” (Saxonhouse 123), a perspective that further supports that Plato may not have been the student which most followed the actual lived examples of Socrates’ life. In this view, then, Socrates oversteps the limits of what society will tolerate from a parrhesiastes and pays the ultimate price, a risk that he knowingly takes and for which he gladly answers, rather than compromise his adherence to what he sees as truth. Whatever the political or legal reasons for his execution, this act of parrhesiastic rebellion “will remain a long time a model of the philosophical attitude towards power: the philosopher’s individual resistance” (Foucault Government 216). Plato establishes Socrates as the heroic philosophical parrhesiastes in the Apology by demonstrating the lengths to which he is willing to go in order to live by his own truth. For Socrates, truth, ethics, and doing the right thing are principles more essential than living or dying and “a man who is good for anything ought not to calculate the chance of living or dying: he ought only to consider whether in doing anything he is doing right or wrong—acting the part of a good man or of a bad” (19). The accusations against Socrates can be read as an implicit threat to him for espousing his philosophy, and discontinuing his actions may be the only way to avoid death. However, Socrates claims that for him to desert his post as philosopher in Athens, something he sees as a duty ordained by God, would be much stranger than his apparent disregard for the threat of death. Furthermore, this is in accordance with his understanding of wisdom for “the fear of death is indeed the pretense of wisdom, and not real wisdom” and he vows, “while I have life and strength I shall never cease from the practice and teaching of philosophy…[and]… I shall never alter my ways, not even if I have to die many times” (20-22). This dedication to truth, and determination to continue speaking from that truth, marks Socrates as a true parrhesiastes, and he indicates that he is unable to hold his tongue for any reason, for doing so would be disobedience to a force higher than law or custom (33). For Socrates, finding the truth and articulating it openly is of the utmost importance and he acknowledges the challenges to this type of choice as a way of living. His adherence to the truth and its connection to speaking is apparent in the assertion Socrates makes when he says “I would rather die having spoken after my manner, than speak in your manner and live…[for]… the difficulty, my friends, is not to avoid death, but to avoid unrighteousness” (35). As a parrhesiastes, he understands the risk he takes in speaking the truth, as well as the difficulties inherent in doing this, but is so dedicated to this relationship to truth that he is willing to die for his convictions. Adjunctive to his adherence to truth telling even in the face of risk is the position held by Socrates that the public life of politics is antagonistic to truth. In a society that values civic participation and political duty, he must justify his retreat from public/political life to the calling of philosophy, and claim this as a higher calling. He sets up the idea that politics and wisdom are antithetical near the beginning of the Apology as he relates his quest to find a wiser man than
42 himself in Athens. While he retells abbreviated versions of the original story with several professions (e.g. poets, artisans, etc.), he begins with a purposely unnamed politician “who had the reputation of wisdom…[and]…although he was thought wise by many, and still wiser by himself” Socrates finds him lacking in this quality (6-7). By finding no wisdom in the politician, Socrates admits that he made an enemy, and many others in addition to that, as he repeatedly assessed them as unwise. This shows not only the antithetical nature of politics and wisdom, but also justifies why there are some politicians in Athens who may want to see Socrates dead, not because he has broken the law or engaged in unjust behavior, but rather because they feel threatened and insulted by his philosophic quest for truth and wisdom, a focus they lack. This quest for wisdom is ordained by the Oracle and divinely inspired, and he says, “my occupation quite absorbs me, and I have not time to give either to any public matter or interest or to any concern of my own, but I am in utter poverty by reason of my devotion to the god” (10). This claim of truth telling and wisdom seeking as a more divinely inspired calling than politics serves to answer suspicions about his withdrawal from political life, as well as to rebut the accusations that he is an atheist. Additionally, it sets up his actions as a parrhesiastes as only being possible in private, philosophical life and not in the public, political one. Socrates articulates this even more directly later in his defense, acknowledging both the suspicions aroused in the polis about his non-participation in political life, as well as to defend that choice as the only one available to the wise and the just. He is aware that “some one may wonder why I go about in private giving advice and busying myself with the concerns of others, but do not venture to come forward in public and advise the state,” and recognizes that this behavior is abnormal in Athens and could arouse suspicion (24). However, Socrates claims that if he had a life in politics he would “have perished long ago, and done no good either to you or to myself” (24). As one accustomed to telling the truth and having that truth provoke others, he goes on to specifically request that the audience “not be offended at my telling you the truth…[that]…he who will fight for the right, if he would live even for a brief space, must have a private station and not a public one” (24). In this form of truth telling, the parrhesiastes must revert to a life of privacy and philosophy, eschewing the public, political stage. This assertion, that politics and truth are antithetical, also reflects the movement of parrhesia from the public to the private, from the political to the philosophical. Truth no longer exists in politics, and because of this the frank truth telling quality of parrhesia must likewise move into a domain wherein truth is still possible. Related to this stance on truth existing only outside of the public realm is the Platonic/Socratic perspective on rhetoric as an obstacle to truth. Socrates begins his monolog by refuting rumors that he is an eloquent speaker and espousing the dangers of rhetoric and its oppositional relationship to truth by associating it with his accusers. These unnamed men “almost made me forget who I was – so persuasively did they speak; and yet they have hardly uttered a word of truth” (1). Socrates claims that he is not an eloquent speaker, unless eloquence and truth are synonymous. He further promises that “from me you shall hear the whole truth: not, however, delivered after their manner in a set oration duly ornamented with words and phrases” and that this form of true delivery will be comprised only of “words and arguments which occur to me at the moment”(1). Unlike the skillfully crafted orations of those trained in rhetoric, which may or may not reflect truth, Socrates relies upon the truth of his words to carry the weight of the argument, rather than his skill at delivering them. He connects his plain style to the parrhesia with which he speaks, claiming that he has “concealed nothing…and yet, I know that my plainness of speech makes them hate me, and what is their hatred but a proof that I am speaking
43 the truth?” (11). Here Socrates links his openness and frankness not only with truth, but also to the risk he takes in speaking it. He acknowledges that he is hated and associates these feelings of animosity for him to truth and articulation of that truth, while opposing it to rhetoric, eloquence, and the discourse of the political realm. This “great division” between philosophy and rhetoric is echoed in other works by Plato and indicates a divide between these domains that continue throughout Western history and into the present day (Foucault Government 307-9). Foucault sees parrhesia, contained within the domain of philosophy, and rhetoric as “not just two techniques or two ways of speaking confronting each other, [but] truly two modes of being of discourse which claim to tell the truth and which claim to implement the truth in the form of persuasion in the souls of others” (309). This distinction in modes of being, while existing in multiple domains and distinguishing factors, comes down to the relationship of the speaker to himself rather than to whomever is being addressed. The main distinction between philosophical language – within which Foucault locates parrhesia via an analysis of Socratic/Platonic discourse – and rhetoric is that the latter “is chosen, fashioned, and constructed in such a way as to produce its effect on the other person,” whereas the former “is without embellishment, in its truth, it will be appropriate for what it refers to” (315). This distinction between rhetoric as embellished language and philosophy as simple, plain-spoken truth is articulated by Socrates in the Apology and marks a shift and separation in discourses, where “rhetoric becomes the political discourse, philosophy the parrhesiastic one” (Foucault Government 304). The distinction between philosophy and rhetoric is one that is represented in Plato and continued to divide these domains for centuries. While I do not agree that these are separate arenas, the perception that they are distinct was pervasive enough to find representation in multiple texts for centuries. This dissertation, which posits parrhesia as rhetorical, is a refutation of these claims and seeks to rejoin domains that should not—and indeed potentially cannot—be separable. Perhaps because of the devastating effects of the persuasive rhetoric leveled at Socrates in his trial by jealous or miscomprehending politicians, Plato does establish and repeat the split between philosophy and rhetoric throughout his Dialogs. Whereas truth and rhetoric once existed side-by-side in Periclean Athens, in a “technical partnership” (Foucault Hermeneutics 363) together in service of common ends, for Athenian democracy by the time Socrates is on trial, these truths are no longer served by this relationship. From this perspective, philosophy and rhetoric must part ways, and while truth may find its way into politics via philosophy, it must occur on a private level within the self that has sought truth. In this view: Where there is philosophy, there should be a relationship to politics. But where there is philosophy, there can be no rhetoric… the two cannot co-exist; their relationship is one of exclusion. It is only by breaking with rhetoric that philosophic discourse, in the very act of expelling it, can constitute itself and affirm itself as a constant and permanent relationship to truth… So philosophy can exist only by sacrificing rhetoric. (Foucault Government 352) Plato, via his portrayal of Socrates, creates (or at least articulates) a divide between rhetoric and philosophy, public and private, truth and falsehood, parrhesia and eloquence. In this context, parrhesia “was not as connected with political institutions [and] parrhesia became a philosopher's virtue” (Momigliano 260). However, Plato was not the only disciple of Socrates, and others took up the Socratic example of parrhesia and the ethical life in much more publicly disruptive and politically challenging ways.
44 Diogenes: Parrhesia for the People An historic figure often associated as an exemplar of parrhesiastic action is the Cynic, Diogenes, who was born in either 412 or 404 BCE18 and died in 323 BCE. While there is speculation surrounding the exact dates of his arrival in Athens and whether or not he received teaching directly from Antisthenes,19 Diogenes is considered to be the earliest and most notorious of the Cynics, a way of life20 modeled on the teachings of Antisthenes. In antiquity, it was generally acknowledged by Diogenes Laerites and others that Antisthenes was the teacher of Diogenes and founder of Cynic philosophy. Cicero notes “the Cynics owe their origin to Antisthenes, who, filling the example of Socrates, lived a life of patience and resignation” (De Orator III, 17). Antisthenes himself was a friend and follower of Socrates, and in Phaedo Plato reports his presence at the death of Socrates. While there is debate over how much influence Socrates had upon the ideas and practices of Antisthenes, it is clear that the two were friends for at least twenty years, much longer than the association of Plato and Socrates. Socratic influences, such as eschewing wealth, living and speaking publicly, not charging for teaching, and openly criticizing Athenian society and human ignorance, can be seen in his outlook and some even claim that Antisthenes is the more genuine heir to Socratic thinking rather than Plato (Glotz). While Antisthenes is reputed to have publicly criticized Plato and disagreed with the directions he took his philosophical outlook, he was not as blunt, crass, or shocking as his philosophical inheritor, Diogenes. Diogenes is known for his outspoken and socially outrageous public behavior, including insulting Alexander the Great, regularly heckling Plato, and indulging openly in all manner of physical appetites in public (Laertius). Kennedy notes that “for the Cynics, the ethical and the political were not discrete categories,” and because Diogenes lived an utterly public life— sleeping, eating, defecating, and masturbating in the agora—there was also a total breakdown between the private and public person within Diogenes. For the early Cynics, there was no public/private binary and “the public was a theater for the demonstration of the life one lived” (34). For the Cynics, wisdom was a public activity with an “emphasis on action, rather than dialectic and introspection” that upset social norms, including holding the belief that women were not inferior to men (Kennedy 29). Socially, the Cynics operated in the post-Peloponnesian War climate within which politics, philosophy, and economics were drifting apart and becoming separate institutions. The Cynic approach attempted to bring that separation to light, to rejoin the ethical and the political within their rhetorical action. Though their tactics were jarring, shocking, and sometimes obscene, this performative philosophical doctrine also demonstrated moral courage and ethical tactics that sought to resist the oppressive practices of the state.
18 Sources are unclear about this and offer contradictory information. Plutarch claims that he died on the same day as Alexander in 323 BCE, which if he was almost ninety as claimed by Diogenes Laerites, would place his birth around the year 412 BCE. However, other sources such as Censorinus claim he died at the age of eighty-one, which would make his date of birth 404 BCE. 19 There are varying hypotheses about the date that Diogenes arrived in Athens and how that compares to the death of Antisthenes, which is generally thought to be in 360 BCE. See Luis Nivia’s Anthisthenes of Athens: Setting the World Aright and H.D. Rankin’s Sophists, Socratics, and Cynics. 20 Cynics did not have a “school of thought” or a set of dogmatic practices or beliefs, but rather adhered to particular public and antagonistic lifestyle based upon individual interpretation.
45 The rhetorical practices of the Cynics include very visible speaking and living without distinction between public and private activities, with a high value placed upon ethical and non- hypocritical lifestyles. This way of living “was also an ethical practice of speaking and living a true life. For the Cynics, the ethical and the political were not discrete categories” (Kennedy 34). The practice of this “ferocious honesty” has been described as a kind of “impudent kairos” where the Cynic would purposefully disrupt the moment with socially inappropriate speech and behavior designed to point out the arbitrary, foolish, or hypocritical nature of societal norms, calling attention to injustices that highlighted the inequalities of those who were not permitted to speak freely in the democratic polis of Athens (Kennedy 36). While free speech was a right granted to male citizens of Athens, the hypocrisy of slavery and oppression was not lost on the Cynics and “they turned parrhesia, once the state-sanctioned privilege of the few, into the prerogative, indeed duty, of all human beings” (Shea 11). In addition to upholding class equality, Diogenes and Antisthenes both included women within their system of ethics, with the latter insisting “Virtue is the same for women as for men” (Laertius). These views toward equality and inclusion, as well as the disregard for all arbitrary conventions and social rules of decency, led to mixed reactions toward Cynicism. Despite this, there is no doubt that it had an effect upon Athenian society and its doctrine spread throughout the Hellenistic world to later influence Stoicism and other philosophies. Even the name “Cynic” comes from the Greek word for “dog,” a term which was likely intended to be derogatory but which the Cynics appropriated, pointing to the naturalness, loyalty, and protective nature of these sometimes reviled canines. Disruptive and at times offensive, the parrhesiastic rhetorical tactics of Diogenes were also apparently effective in the ancient Western world. According to Laertius, who recorded Lives and Opinions of Ancient Philosophers, Diogenes was reported to be “a man very happy in meeting arguments… and had the gift of persuasion in a wonderful degree; so that he could easily overcome any one by his arguments” (241, 145). Diogenes was critical of abstract philosophizing, often heckling Plato publicly, and stating his disdain for both the empty practice of thought without action as well as conventional oratory devices that were designed only to please and persuade. From comments made by Diogenes, it seems he did not consider his actions as a part of formally practiced rhetoric as he conceived it, though his teacher Antisthenes had studied with the Sophists and was himself an accomplished speaker. Despite the disruptive public behavior of Diogenes, it appears from stories told of him that the citizens were tolerant of his antics and Laertius reports that “he was greatly beloved by the Athenians” so that when youths destroyed the wine cask he lived in on the public square, the citizens of Athens gave him a new one. While it is clear that Diogenes utilized parrhesiastic action, he did so in a way that diverges from both the classical political conception of parrhesia and also from the Platonic idea as related in the Dialogs. The actions of Diogenes and other Cynics were not part of institutionalized political structures, but rather a challenge to them, and at the same time, while these confrontations with truth occurred within the individual, they were in no way private. Quite the contrary – everything Diogenes did occurred in public so that there was no difference between public and private realms and his tactics incorporated “confrontation, and derision… mockery and the assertion of a necessary exteriority” (Foucault Government 286). For Foucault, Cynicism is “that other side of Socratism, the side which could not be more opposed to Platonism” (286). Rather than confront lazy or unclear thinking in private, or to critique political institutions from behind the walls of private philosophical gatherings, Diogenes critiqued both
46 individuals and society in a very public way, pushing the bounds of freedom of public speech to anyone who would listen. Diogenes not only enacted free speech, but also directly upheld it as a virtue. According to Laertius, “On one occasion he was asked, what was the most excellent thing among men; and he said ‘Freedom of Speech,’” an ethic he surely practiced. In a telling story, recounted by Plutarch, Laertius, and Cicero, Diogenes is reputed to have told Alexander the Great to move because he was blocking his sunlight, whereupon Alexander claimed that if he were not Alexander, he would have liked to be Diogenes. The abrupt rhetorical approach of Diogenes, even in situations where the person to whom he was speaking clearly had more power in the situation, is the mark of parrhesiastic speaking, and this term is often equated with him. Unlike Plato, or even Pericles or Demosthenes, Diogenes did not operate from any position of power within society. In fact, he and other Cynics are marked as “outcasts whose disadvantages confined them to the fringes of society” (Navia Antisthenes 106). Despite this social position, Diogenes spoke his mind freely and eschewed many social conventions openly in public, making his actions parrhesiastic as well as his speech. The three main types of parrhesiastic practices engaged in by Diogenes and other Cynics are critical preaching, scandalous behavior, and provocative dialog. The Cynics enacted the “continuous discourse” of critical preaching in very public places and preferred to address a large crowd rather than an elite group of people. In this way, they “enabled philosophical themes about one’s way of life to become popular, i.e. to come to the attention of people who stood outside the philosophical sect” (Foucault Fearless 119). They also engaged in scandalous acts, such as reversing roles or transposing an accepted rule from one domain into another, such as doing things openly (e.g., masturbating, fornicating) that are usually hidden, therefore disrupting conventions and demonstrating the arbitrary nature of those conventions. In provocative dialog, the Cynic would engage in discourse reminiscent of Socratic practices, but with different agendas and aims where it is not the philosopher but the other participant who asks the questions and the interlocutor’s pride, not their ignorance, is interrogated. The famous example of Diogenes rebuffing Alexander displays this, where Alexander asks questions to which Diogenese offers sometimes shockingly insulting answers. This type of “parrhesiastic game is played at the very limits of the parrhesiastic contract [and] borders on transgression” where limits are breached and then redrawn in a series of aggressive exchanges where the potential stakes may be loss of life but where truth telling is to be gained (Foucault Fearless 130-132). This type of parrhesiastic speech intervened in the day-to-day lives of people across classes and was enacted publicly for, to, and with anyone willing (or at times unwilling) to engage in the parrhesiastic game of interrogation and critical thought. Diogenes, as a type of citizen parrhesiastes, offers a model of public action that has the potential for political repercussions, without having to be a part of any official political institution. His direct challenging of social practices and assumed hierarchies as a way of living demonstrates the possibilities for parrhesiastic action because “he recognized the spiritual poverty and the moral depravity of his world, and was able and willing to denounce it in word and in deed, without even one passing thought about the consequences that such a mode of life could bring to him” (Navia Diogenes 109). This type of courage to speak truth in situations of risk is indicative of parrhesia and demonstrates one direction that this mode of speech took in post-Periclean Athens and shows the possibilities for parrhesia in situations where full democracy, equality, or freedom of speech may not be honored.
47 Parrhesia Without Free Speech While parrhesia was originally imagined in settings where free speech was upheld as both an idea and a social obligation, it can also be enacted in situations where free speech is specifically not allowable within the dominant political domain. In fact, Foucault points out that “a problem of parresia arises under any form of government” because, regardless of the official stance on free, frank speaking, it is not really possible to eliminate it altogether even in situations of tyranny (Government 212). Because of this, examples of parrhesia can be found in tyrannies and oligarchies, where the parrhesiastes is charged with taking the risk of speaking freely to the monarch, even at the risk of his or her life. Similar to Diogenes speaking parrhesiastically to Alexander the Great, there are moments when risky truth telling to a monarchical ruler is necessary. In fact, parrhesia in a monarchy may be just as essential to its existence in a democracy, for in the former it is this truth telling which checks autocratic power and is the measure of a just ruler. In this sense, parrhesia takes place not in the agora, nor in the small, private communities of philosophers and friends, but in the court. Contemporaneous examples of this can be seen in the writings of both Plato and Aristotle. In The Constitution of Athens, Aristotle relates a story of a parrhesiastic encounter between the tyrant Pisistratus and a peasant. Pisistratus sees a man digging a stony piece of ground and asks him what he is cultivating on that land. Feeling over-burdened by a land tax that Pisistratus had enacted, the man answers “Aches and pains…and that’s what Pisistratus ought to have his tenth of” (XIII). The peasant was not aware of the identity of the person to whom he was speaking and might have had to deal with serious repercussions for having spoken out so boldly against the ruler, “but Pisistratus was so pleased with his frank speech and his industry that he granted him exemption from all taxes” (XIII). This is an example of a person with much less power speaking out to the tyrant with the tyrant’s positive response a testament to his character and justness as a ruler. This “’parrhesiastic contract’… became relatively important in the political life of rulers in the Greco-Roman world” and consists of a relationship between the ruler and the “best and most honest citizens of the city” (Foucault Fearless 32). In this relationship, the ruler checks his own anger at being criticized in order to hear the truth so that he might rule his domain more effectively with his ability to do so evidence of his own self-mastery and further legitimization of his right to power. Another example of parrhesia is demonstrated in the characters of Dion and Plato in the court of Dionysius the tyrant. Dion was aide to Dionysius (both the elder and the younger), and Plutarch recounts that Dion often spoke with “boldness of speech” and that “the tyrant also bore with his freedom of speech, and Dion was almost the only one who spoke his mind fearlessly.” Plato takes on Dion as a student and is then asked to speak to the tyrant about philosophy at court, and although he has mixed feelings about going, in his “Seventh Letter” Plato relates his decision to go based upon the realization that “if ever anyone was to try to carry out in practice my ideas about laws and constitutions, now was the time for making the attempt.” Plato, who had written about the potential role of philosophy in advising politics via the idea of the philosopher king, now has the opportunity to attempt to persuade this tyrant toward truth as he sees it. He notes, too, that in this case he only has to convince one man, the king himself, rather than an entire crowd. He also has concerns for his friend, Dion, “who in very truth was in a position of considerable danger” as advisor to the tyrant with a court full of intrigue. While Dion was known for being able to speak freely to the tyrant, other court members were speaking privately against him and creating rumors, so that Plato fears for his safety.
48 The story of Plato’s involvement with Dion and Dionysius (the elder and the younger) is long and involved, including possible threats of death and/or slavery for Plato, the eventual banishment of Dion, and a resultant civil war, the examples of parrhesia displayed by Dion in the courts is noted for its bold and frank nature, and also because these actions carried risk. Plato, too, takes risks by critiquing tyranny to a tyrant. While the efforts of Dion and Plato to educate a monarch were ultimately unsuccessful, this is the only known example of Plato attempting to enact his idea of the philosopher king within an extant monarchy, an endeavor he undertook despite the apparent risks. Because Dion, too, was willing to risk his life and safety in order to speak truth to the tyrant, this story demonstrates the ways in which parrhesia operated within autocratic governments.
Parrhesia: History and Possibility Parrhesia is a concept that arose as part of Athenian democracy, and yet was not limited to that context. As Athenian democracy changed, the ways in which parrhesia was imagined and enacted likewise transformed to fit new situations and political exigencies. Originally parrhesia encompassed a space that was political, rhetorical, and public, but as the idealized vision of democracy either deteriorated or failed to materialize, parrhesia contracted in the political realm while simultaneously expanding in the philosophical one. This transition also marks a division point between rhetoric, politics, and public life on one hand, and dialectic, philosophy, and private life on the other. While it is convenient to discuss this demarcation as though it created simple binary categories, the reality is much more complicated and includes multiple diversions, overlaps, and mixing of domains. By tracing parrhesia as a marker of articulated truth, it is possible to see the complex enfolding of this idea and practice as it situates itself within, and contributes to the formation of, Western epistemology, politics, rhetoric, philosophy, and ideology. What role does “truth” have within these domains? Who speaks it and how is it spoken? And to what consequence? Because parrhesia is enacted as a disruption of social mores and hierarchies, it poses both threat and possibility to social structures. In ancient Greece, parrhesia is articulated first as a political practice, and though it moves into the realm of philosophy as it splits with rhetoric, this “break” does not occur completely or in fact. Rather, the rhetorical, philosophical, and public nature of parrhesia is taken up by the Cynics who enact parrhesiastic performances as a way of critiquing society and pointing out its inconsistencies and arbitrary taboos. In monarchies and tyrannies, parrhesia likewise continues its disruptive and risky vocation by speaking truth and critique to the autocrat, with attempts at persuading him to personally undertake the rigors of philosophy in order to change himself from within to more fully enact the truths from which the parrhesiastes speaks. These strands of parrhesiastic action have overlaps and continuations through the Greco- Roman world, as well as corollaries in the Roman Republic and Empire. Furthermore, the philosophic friendship applications of parrhesia for the sake of self-improvement would continue through small communities for the next several centuries, as would the blunt, truth telling practices of the Cynics and later the Stoics. These variations of parrhesiastic action would come together in early Christian methods of resistance and truth telling in the political context of the Roman Empire, where speaking outside of state mandated ideologies was risky and constituted an exigency for parrhesia in new contexts, to articulate novel truths. While parrhesia may have been imagined in a specific time, place, and context, once articulated and practiced, it would assume a life of its own that exceeded its original domain. This characteristic of parrhesia as an
49 unpredictable force of articulation carries through these historic contexts and permeates the hidden side of narratives of power. By tracing parrhesia through discourse and action, it is possible to see the ways in which power is disrupted, altered, and ultimately shaped by these acts of truth telling.
50 Chapter 3 Beyond Athens: Parrhesia and the Roman Republic
Though Roman culture developed separately from and contemporaneously with Greek culture, there is no doubt of the profound impact of Greek influences on Roman art, architecture, philosophy, and rhetoric. Parrehesia, too, was known and discussed in the Roman world, and while there is not a direct or exact translation of parrhesia into Latin, acts of courageous truth telling were a conspicuous part of the political landscape, especially in times of crisis. The discursive traces of these acts remain as often-revisited precedents for the founding of Western institutions, political systems, rhetorical models, and ideology. The value of speaking at risk to one’s self in service of a larger social truth, embedded in the history of both Athenian democracy and the Roman Republic, has likewise affected Western political thought and epistemology. Roman oratory steeped in these ideals, such as is found in the orations of Cicero, has had a strong impact on the conceptualization of rhetoric throughout Western history. This chapter will offer an overview of the role of libertas—the word into which parrhesia is most commonly translated into Latin—in Roman politics, society, and ideology throughout the last century of the Republic. To understand the role of free, frank, and risky speech within the context of the Roman Republic in the last century BCE, it is necessary to describe the role of audience and the crowd within Roman politics and oratory, as the citizens of the Republic had considerable power as a legislative, voting body with the ability to sway and disrupt political processes. Additionally, libertas and the ability to speak freely in public was, at least in the context of the Senate, based upon the Roman conception of hierarchy, where the most powerful, influential senators were permitted to speak first and upon any topic they desired. It is within this environment that Cicero arose as a powerful statesman and orator, and his outspoken defense of the failing Republic became the focus for his work near the end of his life and it is because of this work (specifically the Philippics) that he was eventually executed. While Cicero wrote and spoke in Latin and so does not directly use the term parrhesia, he read and was deeply influenced by Pericles, Isocrates, and especially Demosthenes, all of whom valued and enacted parrhesia in their work. Additionally, Greek-speaking sources label Cicero as a parrhesiastes, which along with the fact that his commitment to speaking unpopular truths led to the loss of his life, shows that his actions fall into the class of parrhesiastic speech. This chapter will focus on the role of free, frank speech in the Republic, showing how the value placed on parrhesia/libertas declines as the political systems that support inclusion of many voices— including those of dissent—move toward states of autocracy. The trajectory of decline for Roman freedoms exists in parallel with Cicero’s oratorical career, and his outspoken defense of the Republic marks the greatest, though ultimately unsuccessful, rhetorical stand taken to protect the rights of parrhesia in Rome.
Parrhesia and Libertas: Citizen Rights within the Roman Republic While there is no direct translation of the word parrhesia in Latin, this in itself is interesting to note and speaks to the differences in ideologies and contexts for the Roman Republic versus Athenian democracy. Additionally, the way parrhesia was conceptualized and translated within a constellation of words, concepts, and meanings associated with it points to the complex nature of parrhesia and influences the way that we have spoken—or failed to speak—about it since. Furthermore, Greek-speaking Roman citizens continued to use and write about parrhesia in its
51 original linguistic context (e.g., Cassius Dio, Plutarch, Lucian and others) and the word was eventually utilized by early Christians under the rule of the Roman Empire. In most cases, parrhesia is translated into Latin as libertas, a concept central to Roman citizenship and identity within the Republic, but is in some instances translated as licentia,21 pointing to the potential abuses with speaking freely previously noted in Greek sources. Libertas, is defined by such terms as liberty, freedom, independence, freedom or frankness of speech, candor, and outspokenness. Licentia is also related to freedom, liberty, and candor, but with the added dimension of presumption, boldness, or licentiousness. Both of these concepts are implicated in the ways in which Romans adapted, translated, and continued the tradition of parrhesia in the Roman republic, the loss of which was duly noted as that system slipped into autocracy and despotism with the rise of the Roman Empire. The idea of free speech was included within the concept of libertas in the Roman Republic and was considered a foundational right of the Roman citizen, especially those of the upper classes. Jose Manuel Diaz de Valdes discusses the important presence of free speech in the Roman Republic, contrasting that with the loss of these rights as Rome moved into Empire. As Valdes notes, “it was affirmed that [free speech] was not regarded as a human right but as a political entitlement. As nowadays, freedom of speech was valued not only for its importance to the speaker, but also for its relevance to the political system” (125). In the Republic, free speech —covered under the concept of libertas—was critical as a right for both the individual and the full functioning of the state, two aspects that combined to form the idea of citizenship. Valdes believes that the Romans were aware of and conscious of this right, even though they had no specific word for free speech, but rather considered it as included within libertas and res publica, i.e., as part of a republic, the citizen enjoyed freedoms, one of them being freedom of speech. This was not considered a “human right” in the modern sense, but rather a legal right protected by the state for its citizens. The idea of civic engagement was likewise valued in the Republic, as res publica literally means the things about which the public should take care, i.e., the things of the public. Because of this ethic, “political criticism was widespread; the ‘right’ to speak could sometimes be considered a duty,” an ideology that is not so distant from the beliefs from which Athenian parrhesia first arose and was practiced (128). Joy Connolly agrees that, for the Romans, liberty is not something that comes to people as a natural right; rather, it is civic right, based in the legal practices and agreements within a society. For the republican speaker, ethos is of the utmost importance since it is the power of the speaking body that carries the ability to gain consensus and create the popular identity of the citizen. In the Roman political and rhetorical system, citizens are given limited ability to exercise their intellectual abilities with limitations upon their libertas, with speakers offering limited choices within an environment that encouraged both consent and contention. In the Roman system, however, even the elite could not (or were not expected to) speak out in just any way whatsoever; rather, there was a set of constraints put upon that speech, upheld by writers such as Cicero, that included ideals of civic virtue as the basis for ethos and speaking in public. The competitive nature of politics in Rome “is founded on division; antagonism is as essential to the survival of the republic as the peace making that cures it…[so that]….rhetoric’s job is never done: it is a product of the ultimate unverifiability of political legitimacy” (73). Amidst this ideology is the concept that the “manly citizen” wins in this contestation by obeying the laws, as the law is the glue that holds society together by consensus for the common good. Because of
21 Candor and simplicitas are also occasionally used (Fields 36).
52 this, thinkers such as Cicero saw the orator as the model citizen who utilized rhetoric for these ends. Chaim Wirszubski echoes the connection between libertas and the state, as well as the conceptual polarities between libertas and servitas (freedom and slavery). In addition to this contrast between states of freedom and bondage is the corresponding link between libertas and civitas (citizenship) where freedom is conditional upon one’s standing as a citizen of Rome. In this way, libertas is not a natural or human right, but rather part of a social contract wherein membership of the citizenry guarantees a certain amount of freedom and autonomy from oppression by the state, as compared to the servitude or domination inherent in slavery. Ties to the community also affect the distinction between libertas and licentia, where the engaged citizen is aware of the downfalls of freedom without restraint so that “the necessary prerequisite of libertas is the renouncement of self-willed actions; consequently, genuine libertas can be enjoyed under the law only” (7).22 In this setting, libertas is indelibly embedded into the fabric of the state, community, and society where, to respect one’s own rights means respecting the rights of others. However, Wirszubski clearly notes that in this context libertas does not equate to democracy or equality and “the Roman republic never was, nor, on the whole, was meant to be, a democracy of the Athenian type; and eleutheria with isonomia and parrhesia as its chief expressions appeared to the Romans as being nearer licentia than libertas” (13). Libertas could, however, be used as the grounds for demands for social reform and though “the citizen had a vote… he had no right to make his voice heard: freedom of speech, in the sense that any citizen had the right to speak, did not exist in the Roman Assemblies” (18). Thus, in this view, while libertas is an embedded right within the Roman republican system, it is limited in some contexts. Though Rome considered itself a republic and Cicero specifically critiques the dangers of democracy as a potential precursor to tyranny,23 contesting views claim that the Roman republican system allowed more space for democratic practices than commonly thought. Fergus Millar makes a compelling argument for the view that the Roman Republic did, in fact, operate as a direct, if limited, democracy, including extensive rights to free speech, at least during times of relative stability. By examining the central role of the crowd in Roman politics and oratory, Millar contends that the crowd in pre-imperial Rome had considerable power in the political realm, which was conducted very publicly and in the open where the inhabitants of Rome (including citizens, women, slaves, foreign visitors, etc.) had access to hearing proceedings. Additionally, despite not having an official platform from which to speak, the power of the citizens of Rome “was not limited to demonstrations of public opinion, to destructive violence, or to protests against the actions of some sovereign, or of some legislative body. For as soon as it had re-formed into its constituted tribus,24 it was the sovereign body in the Roman res publica,
22 Susanna Morton Braund discusses the productive tension between libertas and licentia in Roman satire, which traced its roots to Old Comedy in ancient Athens, and critiqued social and political practices through satire. In her analysis, it is impossible to pin down what constitutes licentia, or freedom in speaking, versus licentia, an excess of freedom of which the audience disapproves, though these formed the basis of much of the satire examined, showing that these tensions were relevant enough to popular audiences to be included as underpinnings for entertainment. 23 See his commentary in works such as De Re Publica and Pro Sestio, 24 Citizens voted on issues and laws in two main assemblies: the comitia centuriata and the comitia tributa. In the former, votes were taken by class where the upper classes voted first,
53 and it not only could legislate but was, in normal circumstances, the only body that did so” (35). All citizens could vote, and all voting took place within subgroups (e.g., the tribus or the centuriae) where the majority voted in each subgroup counted as one vote. Millar stresses that “the res publica was a direct democracy, not a representative one” since the people, not the elected officials, voted on laws so that “the most fundamental of all the rights of the people, was, however, the fact that they, and they alone, could legislate” (209). Because of this, “in purely formal terms, the Roman res publica has to be characterized as a democracy”25 (210). Though Rome at this time is classed as a republic, the ways in which voting occurred is often referred to as direct democracy, not only by Millar but in many popularly available sources as well, such as Wikipedia’s direct democracy entry and Encyclopedia Britannica. While there are certainly differences between Athenian democracy and the Roman Republic, the general idea that the needs, voices and votes of the citizens should be part of governmental choices (unlike autocracies) creates ideological overlap between these two different cultural institutions. While it may be contested as to whether Rome should be classed as a democracy, it is clear that the citizens of Rome held considerable power in the ability to pass laws and decide upon legislation, and that speaking freely held some degree of importance to the ideology of Roman citizenship.26 While the nomenclature and exact political structure of Rome and Athens differed, the ideological underpinnings contain some overlaps and similarities that make speaking out in the name of the public interest part of the expected practice in both political and social systems. Furthermore, the ability to do this openly was connected to the ideals embedded in the political systems, e.g., Athenian democracy and Roman republicanism, and changes in those systems would likewise affect parrhesiastic action within the public—or at least political— realm. The Senate and the Army27 seem to be privileged sites where significant free speech was exercised, and these institutions were largely occupied by similar types of citizens, i.e., those
though in the latter, composed of plebian citizens, all could vote equally regardless of class or wealth. 25 Though participation in voting was determined by rank or class (which were both factors for holding elected office) the distance one lived from Rome did largely determine a citizen’s ability to directly participate, though they had the right to do so, and at times were persuaded to come to Rome for that purpose. The people had so much power in the working of Rome, in fact, that Millar asserts that the state itself did not exist apart from the will of the people, meaning that though there were annually elected officials, there were no standing government bodies or buildings, and all political proceedings were held in the open air in view of the citizens of Rome who were present. 26 Compared to Athens, Rome had significantly more citizens, though as Millar points out, they would have been dispersed across a greater area and not always able to directly participate because of the difficulty in travel across such a distance for the sole purpose of participating in the political process. Even the city of Rome itself, however, held a great number of people, thus the immediate effect of the crowd upon oratory in Rome may have been even more profound than that found in Athens. 27 Stefan G. Chrissanthos examines the degree of libertas exercised in the Roman army, arguing that Roman soldiers enjoyed general freedom that included but was not limited to speech during their life in army camps, and that this attitude was taken with them when they returned to life after their career in the army. There is evidence that Roman soldiers expressed their opinions to
54 with power, money, and political influence, though there are some instances cited of commoners being granted permission to address the crowd. Though all citizens could vote, they were not allowed to publicly, officially deliberate; rather, they were given the right to vote on a limited number of available choices that the Senate provided for them. Courts and the arts were also very tolerant of free speech, and the Forum offered “political education of the people, providing information on public affairs, and oratory contest…[with]… the Forum as a privileged place for the exercise of freedom of speech, despite its massive character and the chilling effect produced by the fear of the mob” (Valdes 132). Unlike Athens which upheld the idea of equality before the law, “in Rome, inequality was the bedrock of the political system,” and status dictated who had rights to rule or be ruled, and defined the limitations of free, public speech (Connolly 31). Though libertas is a recurring theme in republican speech from Rome, the extent of that freedom depended upon one’s place within Roman society and was not meant to be equal across all classes of citizens. In the Forum, the most powerful political speakers had the opportunity to practice their oratorical skills in order to attempt to persuade the large, and sometimes volatile, Roman crowds, which could reach to between 15,000 and 20,000 listeners at a time (Ramsey 124). Often, when looking at Roman history and oratorical performance during the late Republic era, the contests and competitions between individuals are the aspect of political life stressed. However, Millar points out “that all of these forms of individualistic competition were directed to an audience of people, and that no one could gain any public office without direct popular election…The people were the arbiters of success or failure, and they alone could validate structural change” (95). When examining the oratorical works of statesmen such as Cicero, it is necessary to keep in mind that these arguments are aimed at swaying public opinion, for that was the only means by which legal changes and major political decisions could be authorized and enacted. Most sources agree that senators had a great deal of freedom of speech in the Senate, but that this freedom was likewise predicated upon status. The Senate formed a large, stable body of noblemen who had held high elected offices (e.g., quaestorship, consul, etc.) and who were then members of the Senate for life, barring criminal conviction or public disgrace. This large body of upper-class statesmen held considerable power and were consulted on nearly all important issues of the state, though they could not pass laws, a power held only by the voting assemblies. Senatorial meetings included between 200 to slightly more than 400 members at a time, with only the most prestigious Senators, as ranked by their former offices, having the ability to speak freely and in order of ranking (Ramsey 124). Often, junior members of the Senate had no opportunity to speak at all, but would express their position by “voting with their feet,” or moving to sit near the person whose position they supported.28 Senior level Senators had a great deal of freedom to bring up whatever subjects they pleased when it was their turn to speak even if it was not the topic of the issue before the house. Additionally, sometimes Senators would interrupt each other, or banter back and forth if they strongly disagreed. As with much of Roman rhetoric and politics, these contests could spill over into violence outside of the context of the
each other and to their commanders, either formally or informally, and at times their opposition to a course of action had the effect of changing it. Though there were dangers in this if taken to extremes, there were no formal institutions, laws, or practices limiting it.
28 For a fuller analysis of senatorial oratory, training, and techniques, see John Ramsey’s “Roman Senatorial Oratory” in A Companion to Roman Rhetoric.
55 debate or vote itself, and gangs who supported a particular politician might intimidate or disrupt proceedings, a practice that occurred in the Forum as well. Roman oratory was highly competitive, and while it conducted these contests in words, there was always the possibility of physical threat or violence as a result of rhetorical engagement, a factor that needs to be considered when contextualizing the orations from this time period. Not only was swaying an audience a factor in voting, but it could also affect one’s physical safety, where immediate or future violence was always a potential threat. These physical threats became ever more pressing in the Republic in the last century BCE as political factioning, gangs, and attempted political takeovers threatened the libertas of the republican political system, leading to a decline of officially sanctioned freedoms and greater consequences for resisting this trend. In this air of violence and decreasing freedom, strong words could create deadly enemies so that speaking out against the powerful became an increasingly risky act. It is in this environment that Cicero rose to prominence, first as a statesman within the republican system, and finally as its most vocal advocate, even when doing so led to his death. Modeling his approach after the parrhesiastes of the past—including Pericles, but namely Demosthenes—Cicero used what remained of the libertas of the republican system to parrhesiastically enact its defense.
Cicero: Libertas, Speech, and Danger in the Late Republic Marcus Tullius Cicero lived at an extremely tumultuous time when the old Republic was on the verge of collapse and plays for power between elite politicians created chaos and revolt within Rome. He was considered the most influential orator of this time and was “revered by all classes of Roman citizenry” (Tapia 72). Cicero believed that eloquence combined ethics, knowledge, rhetoric, and wisdom, and he wrote and spoke widely in order to try to save the Republic from tyranny, calling for a return to the Roman constitution and power dispersed amongst the Senate and elected officials, rather than supporting the move toward dictatorship.29 His name, associated with the trait of eloquence through a great deal of Western history, inspired centuries of rhetorical training and theory. In addition, his political philosophy is considered “the start of modern political thought” and greatly influenced the course of Western law and political institutions (Radford 71). Cicero formed a career based almost solely upon his skill as an orator, as he did not possess the aristocratic background of most of his peers. Instead, amidst a climate of violence
29 In 60 BCE, Julius Gaius Caesar invited Cicero to join him, along with Pompey and Crassus, in forming what would come to be known as the First Triumvirate, an alliance that Cicero refused because of his desire to uphold the Republic and its constitution. In 44 BCE, Caesar was named dictator for life (dictator perpetuo) but was assassinated very shortly thereafter on the Ides of March by Cicero’s close friend Marcus Junius Brutus who, while still holding the bloody dagger he had used to execute Caesar, called upon Cicero to restore the Republic. Much of Cicero’s subsequent writings argued to pardon the conspirators as heroes of the Republic, and railed against Marc Antony, who seized a great deal of power after Caesar’s death and who Cicero feared would vie to become the next dictator. Cicero also argued in support of Octavian, Caesar’s adopted son, who eventually did rise to power, naming himself Augustus, Rome’s first Emperor. Though Octavian and Cicero were friends, once a truce was declared and the Second Triumvirate formed, Octavian agreed to Marc Antony’s demand that Cicero and hundreds of others be executed.
56 and political upheaval in the last decades of the Roman Republic, “he was able to survive, indeed often to thrive, by relying on a reputation and position in the state that he had attained and maintained almost exclusively by the force of his oratory” (May 2). He spent a good deal of his youth in the Forum hearing the orations of famous speakers, such as Crassus and Antonius, who spoke before the courts and public meetings. Though Cicero served briefly in the military, it was through his skills as an orator that he became a prominent citizen and gained election to several eminent offices in the Roman political system. While still in his late teens, he published his first rhetorical work, De Inventione, though he delayed his official arrival upon the scene of Roman rhetoric until his mid-twenties, which, according to James May, was likely because of the period of extreme unrest during the War with the Italian Allies (4). Cicero held a succession of offices known as the cursus honorum30 at the youngest ages possible, including becoming consul at the age of 43, a difficult feat for even the greatest of Roman statesmen, and even more so for Cicero who did not have a family history of Roman leadership. Cicero held a lifelong dedication to the Roman Republic and constitution, and while his views were at times popular and at times not, he maintained a consistent commitment to the Republic throughout his career, even when doing so carried mortal risk. As the Republic declined through political fighting and factionalism, there were some who protested the movement toward autocracy, especially those with the most freedom to lose, e.g., politicians, senators, etc. This included the notoriously outspoken Cicero who noted the loss of freedom and power that he and others of his class had come to take for granted. Even in this climate, however, “public opinion was not suppressed, and the centuries-old tradition of political freedom inspired a vocal, if politically powerless, opposition” (Wirszubski 75-7). Cicero, however, was not ultimately heeded as he spoke out against the dwindling libertas in Roman society, as his peers did not necessarily share his political idealism and eventually “freedom of speech in the Senate was gone” (Wirszubski 89). The assassination of Caesar did not restore peace or freedom, and after so much ongoing civil unrest, the citizens were more inclined to choose otium (peaceful leisure) rather than fight for their tradition of libertas. As the Republic slid into decline, freedom of speech became a more dangerous endeavor and staunch upholders of the Roman constitution like Cicero risked greater consequences for speaking out. In 58 BCE, Cicero was exiled because of a new law, seemingly enacted for the sole purpose of banishing him from Rome,31 but he was called back the following year amidst a cheering and appreciative crowd. After this, because of the conditions of his return to Rome, he was no longer allowed to lead the life of a public politician. Rome was chaotic and uncertain, and it was becoming increasingly dangerous for people to proclaim dissenting opinions. Because of this, his “confidential correspondence reveals an oppressive awareness of this loss of
30 The cursus honorum or “course of offices” was the sequential order of public offices of senatorial rank that politicians could hold. To hold each office at the earliest age possible was considered a notable political success. 31 The law, put forth by Clodius (who was supported by Julius Caesar) made the execution of Roman citizens without a trial a crime punishable by banishment. The law was aimed at eliminating Cicero, who had members of the Cataline conspiracy in 63 BCE, who were planning a violent uprising, put to death to avoid the possibility of impending civil war. Their leader Cataline, defended by Julius Caesar, fled. Cicero was hailed as a hero at the time but was later temporarily exiled for his part in the execution. During his exile, his house was destroyed, and somewhat ironically, a shrine to Libertas was erected in its place.
57 republican liberty which he chooses to conceal in his own public writings” (Fantham 5). Additionally, during this time, his private letters “show that Cicero knew he had lost his freedom of speech—and speech was his life. Because could no longer voice his own political principles without urgent risk,” he turned largely to writing32 in order to express his views on politics, government, and rhetoric (Fantham 9). For a time, Cicero chose to express his unease with the state of the Roman Republic in more subtle yet no less critical ways, through treatises on rhetoric such as his work Brutus, written in 46 BCE. Brutus is dedicated to Cicero’s close friend, Marcus Junius Brutus, the same man who would lead the assassination of Julius Ceasar in 44 BCE, and deals with the history of Roman oratory through the ages. It is written as a dialog between Cicero (the main speaker), Atticus, and Brutus, supposedly at the request of latter. Daniel Kapust stresses that rhetoric played a significant role in politics during the time and that the men upon whom this work is based were “immersed in a rhetorical culture and steeped in the traditions and memories of the Roman republic” (22). In Cicero’s view, rhetoric was necessary for a free and flourishing society where “republican political communities…foster the pursuit of the public good; the conditions of speaking freely are the conditions of liberty; rhetoric serves as a resource for fostering engagement and trust among citizens” (27). By using the voices of these three men in Brutus, Cicero creates an exigence for both the discussion of the history of oratory, as well as a platform from which to critique the loss of freedoms, especially those of open speech in the Forum. Near the beginning of the text, there is a palpable air of regret and loss, and while he does not brazenly criticize the current regime by name (and in fact somewhat praises but mostly avoids discussing the oratory abilities of Julius Caesar), Cicero in several places laments the current state of Roman politics and oratory which, in a time of uncertainty and danger, constitutes this work as a subtle form of parrhesiastic critique. Emanuele Narducci describes Brutus as “a sort of ‘epitaph’ of Republican oratory” noting that the reign of Julius Caesar “has meant the extinction of all free political debate,” and that this work seeks “to preserve the passion for research and debate, while under the oppressive mantel of a dictatorship” through characters who possess “a nostalgia for a tradition that they warn is quickly dying away” (Brutus 401-2). It is in this climate of suppressed freedom of speech that Cicero honors the past while critiquing the present, demonstrating the idealized role of orators who speak out within a free political system that relies upon its citizen audience in order to rule in a just manner. In mourning the death of Hortensius, who died in 50 BCE only four years before Brutus was composed, Cicero likewise mourns the death of Roman rhetoric and libertas, setting up this text as an example of risky critique. Cicero discusses how Hortensius would feel if he were still living and could see the Forum, which in its current state of decline, would be “no longer accessible to [his] accomplished eloquence” and imagines the pain Hortensius would feel. In Brutus “Cicero is articulating the close connection between the freedom of the Roman republic and the practice of oratory, a connection seen in the loss of eloquence and the emptying of the
32 Elaine Fantham writes here in The Roman World of Cicero’s De Oratore, speaking of the three books he wrote in 55 BCE for his brother Quintus that dealt with the glorified orators of the past, the ideal orator, and rhetorical philosophy and technique. Though this dissertation will focus on Cicero’s works from even later in his career near the end of his life, the same—or increasingly worse—political dynamics apply.
58 forum with Caesar’s displacement of republican politics” (Kapust 2).33 This undermining of republican values and the importance of the Forum for passing laws and speaking persuasively to the people in order to sway their opinions as sovereign citizens causes pain for Cicero, too, which he does not try to hide. About himself he says: Even I am unable to restrain my tears, when I behold my country no longer defensible by genius, the prudence, and the authority of legal magistrate—the only weapons which I have learned to wield, and to which I have long been accustomed, and which are most suitable to the character of an illustrious citizen, and of a virtuous and well-regulated state. (4) After lamenting that he is no longer able to participate in public life as he once was and calling out the lack of freedoms now available in Roman politics, Cicero describes the current political climate in Rome as “our present melancholy situation” noting the “dismal wreck of our affairs, both public and private,” though celebrating the arrival of his friends (Atticus and Brutus), saying that upon seeing them “all my anxiety for the Commonwealth subsided” (4-5). The character of Atticus echoes and supports Cicero’s claims to emotional grief over the state of affairs and the reprieve from this state with the visit of his friends observing, “I now find you in good spirits, for the first time, after a tedious interval of despondency” (6). Cicero praises the rhetorical talents of Brutus, who was also a member of the Senate, and worries for him saying, “I am concerned to think where your wonderful genius, your finished erudition, and unparalleled industry will find a theater to display themselves…[since] …the liberty of the State received a fatal overthrow, and that Eloquence, of which we are now to give the History, was condemned to perpetual silence” (7). Concentrated near the beginning of Brutus, these critiques of the current state of Roman politics set the context wherein Cicero will discus the history of oratory in Rome, a practice he sees as nearly impossible to continue in the current climate, but which is worthy of praise nevertheless. Indeed, the praise he gives belies his ideology in subtle ways, and also points toward the criteria and skills one would need in order to be the type of orator who could move a crowd to action and potentially regain republican values. For these reasons, his work on the history of Roman oratory also provides a subtle, but still dangerous, critique of the current political regime. Cicero expounds upon his criteria for the ideal orator34 before harkening back to the beginnings of rhetoric, which he situates in Periclean Athens. Several orators are praised and Pericles is lauded as one “who, though adorned with every kind of excellence, was most admired for his talent of speaking,” along with Isocrates and Demosthenes, who “approaches the character [of the ideal orator] so nearly, that you may apply it to him without hesitation” (8-9). While Cicero praises other Greek orators, these are the three primary focuses of his praise, noteworthy not only for their rhetorical skill, but also because of the focus in their work on parrhesia and the importance of speaking out in ways that support the greater good, even when doing so is not popular. Even by the orators he praises and admires, he offers support for actions such as speaking out parrhesiastically and makes his ideological affiliations clear by praising them. The connection between Cicero and the parrhesiastic orators of Athens evidenced in
33 While Kaput’s work focuses primarily upon Salust, Livy, and Tacitus, they are all contextualized as coming after Cicero, thus a treatment of Cicero’s work is given as background for commentators who came later. 34 This subject is also treated in Orator, another work written in the same year and likewise dedicated to Brutus.
59 Brutus will become even more influential in his last oratorical masterpieces, which were composed in the final year of his life, and which led directly to his execution. Following the connection to the Athenian orators of the past, the survey of effective or gifted orators from the history of the Roman Republic is likewise a history of the Republic itself and the merits of each orator is judged against his effectiveness and the importance of his role in the political life of Rome. This inventory “serves to underscore the inseparable bond between oratory and political activity which had characterized the free res publica from its beginnings” and solidifies the link between effective oratory and the functioning of an ethical state (Narducci, Brutus 413). Eloquence and its ability to persuade was a powerful instrument for swaying the emotions and opinions of the public during the time of the Republic, when the public was a sovereign entity that held the power to legislate and vote. The orators, while having the power to persuade through their words, did not hold the power to legislate without consent of the citizens, a state that has passed by the time Brutus was written. While Cicero places Antonius and Crassus as the pinnacles of oratorical power, he postulates the type of orator who could surpass their skills as one who is educated in a variety of fields, e.g., a man such as himself, whose work created a move forward in the quality of oratory. Thus, in showing his ideological ties to parrhesiastes such as Pericles and Demosthenes, Cicero praises these acts of libertas, as well as the freedom found in a republic where oratory still has sway to influence the sovereign body of voters. This criticism, despite its subtlety, is apparent throughout this work, which makes even this history of Roman rhetoric a risky, parrhesiastic act for Cicero. Given his skill and contributions to rhetoric in Rome, Cicero’s exclusion is likewise lamented, though these critiques come forth in the dialog assigned to Brutus. As a character, Brutus regrets “that the Roman State has so long been deprived of the benefit of…your Eloquence—a circumstance which is indeed calamitous enough in itself, but must appear much more so to him who considers into what hands that once respectable authority has been of late, I will not say transferred, but forcibly wrested” (36). Cicero’s criteria for eloquence is outlined in Brutus as it is in other works, where he discusses the three styles (plain, medium, and grand) for different purposes (to instruct, to please, to move). He contrasts this with the neo-Atticist style popular at the time and claims that this approach fails to engage the emotions of the audience, and for that reason is ineffective for moving them to action. According to Narducci, Cicero argues for the importance of the grand style precisely because it raises the emotions of the audience which “corresponds not merely to a choice of political allegiance, but also to different ways of relating to a popular audience, amounting either to a recognition or a denial of the ‘sovereignty’ of the common people as the source of final judicial authority” (Brutus 407). In this model, Cicero’s insistence upon privileging the grand style, steeped in pathos, is as much an ideological choice as a stylistic one, embedded in the values of the Republic which sought to persuade and move the citizens in order to gain their consent in matters of politics and legislation. Because he is no longer allowed political voice, he uses this space of a history to enact his remaining libertas by subtly criticizing the regime that has sought to silence him. In order to further his argument against the neo-Atticists, Cicero also repeatedly refers to Demosthenes, who becomes the most influential Athenian orator for Cicero in the last years of his life, and who inspired his fourteen Philippics against Marc Antony, composed between September 44 and April 43 BCE. These are the final orations Cicero composed that are still extant today and which largely determined his fate. Although other Greeks, especially
60 Isocrates,35 may have had more influence on earlier works, Cecil Wooten argues that by the time Cicero wrote the Philippics, Demosthenes was his main influence and inspiration, which again shows his ideological link to parrhesiastic orators of the past. This is first evidenced in a letter he wrote to Atticus in 60 BCE where he discusses his desire to compose similar examples of political writing, which he referred to as “consular” speeches. Cicero saw himself in a position similar to the one in which Demosthenes found himself near the end of the Athenian democratic reign. In addition, like Demosthenes, Cicero’s own livelihood relied upon the continuation of a representative government, so that the struggle to uphold the Roman Republic became inextricably linked to his own survival. Wooten makes a compelling and detailed comparison of the lives of Demosthenes and Cicero, demonstrating several overlaps in the lives of these two famous orators. Both of them were involved in political life at a time when their respective systems were in a state of crisis and on the verge of moving from a representative system to one an autocracy, and each of them had a vested interest in maintaining the older order, as that was the only one in which they could continue to operate with any political power. In addition, they each had early struggles in their lives that led to successful careers as legal advocates and both carried a deep nostalgia for the past, embedded in their early educations and ideologies as adults. In both cases, despite moving oratorical deliveries and repeated attempts to sway the course of history, both men also died as the result of the political climate moving away from one where politicians such as Cicero and Demosthenes had the ability to speak and move public opinion, an activity which has no place in autocratic regimes. Additionally, both orators use polarization throughout their orations, approaching their opponents and their threat as “a fundamental crisis of civilization” where the past is represented as “noble and good,” contrasted with “the present, which is degenerate and unstable” (169). Demosthenes, who was inspired by Pericles (through Thucydides) linked the conflicts he saw to a “golden age” of the past, just as Cicero linked his current crisis with Antony to values that were more clearly upheld in the past view of the Roman Republic leading to “a vehement defense of traditional political institutions, which form a link between the present and the past and without which, according to Demosthenes and Cicero, liberty, freedom, and participatory government could no longer exist” (170). Conversely, if that system ceased to exist, the political roles of Demosthenes and Cicero would likewise perish. This “rhetoric of crisis” is what Wooten sees as the most fundamental link between the two orators across time and cultures
35 Eric Laughton, in “Cicero and the Greek Orators” from The American Journal of Philology (Jan 1961) argued against claims by earlier scholars that Cicero’s main influence was Isocrates by closely analyzing and comparing the style of Cicero with that of both Isocrates and Demosthenes, though he also included Pericles as an influence as well. While Wooten’s analysis is more up to date and in-depth, Laughton presents interesting stylistic analysis, as well as linguistic information, noting the difference between an orator and a rhetorician in Rome, whereas the Greeks only had one word to designate both a public orator and a teacher of rhetoric. However, “for the Romans the orator represented the man of action and responsibility, whose words influenced events; the rhetor was reserved for teachers of rhetoric” (27). The term “orator” was of ancient Latin origin and implied “a spokesman of an embassy, a man who, since he might have to bear the responsibility of a nation and speak with a nation’s authority, must have not only the ability to speak, but a dignity and integrity fit to sustain his part” (28). This has bearing on understanding the cultural differences between Rome and Greece in the way they perceived the role of rhetoric and oratory, both pedagogically and politically.
61 that produced orators of “genius and experience, working with in a system that has a tradition of public address and public deliberation (that is, a democratic or participatory constitutional government), [who] perceives, rightly or wrongly, that the very existence of that system and all it represents is threatened by a totalitarian menace that must be stopped at all costs” (171). Demosthenes, who spoke repeatedly of parrhesia, invoking its outspoken tradition in his orations, inspired Cicero to much the same action, and to largely the same outcome. Cicero’s writings were clearly viewed as parrhesiastic by Greek-speaking writers under the Roman Empire such as Cassius Dio, who wrote his Roman History over a period of twenty- two years in the late second and early third centuries CE. Dana Fields notes that, “although the term parrhesia has no real equivalent in Roman political discourse, here [in Cicero’s speeches to support Octavian over Antony] parrhesia and eleutheria seem together to stand in for the Republican ideal of libertas” and, in Cassius Dio’s history, Cicero’s speech can “serve as a short hand for Republican ideology” (103-104). Further, Cassius Dio accuses Cicero of abusing this kind of speech, saying that “[Cicero] made himself very bitter enemies by always striving to surpass even the most powerful men and by using untimely and immoderate parrhesia toward all alike” (qtd. 57). For Cassius Dio, Cicero’s desire to have “a reputation for parrhesia” was even more important to him than having a reputation for being a good citizen (57). Thus, while Latin- speaking Romans may not have used the term parrhesia, those who had the word at their linguistic disposal considered Cicero a parrhesiastes and his actions—and their results—support this categorization as well. As with many of Cicero’s other delivered orations, many of the Philippics were written and distributed as pamphlets, a tactic he used throughout his career to further spread his political positions throughout Rome and which demonstrates the complex relationship between orality and print during this time. Though most of the fourteen Philippics were actually delivered as speeches with the Senate as the intended audience, two of them were delivered to the public assembly with the people as the intended audience (Fourth and Sixth) and the Second Philippic was distributed solely as a pamphlet to the public, though with a Senatorial audience in mind (Hall 273-5). The first speech still gave some room for Antony to negotiate and is not as invective-filled as the other thirteen; however, Antony’s response was so inflaming that the remaining Philippics are wholly one-sided with Antony viewed as an enemy of the state and war the only recourse for dealing with his actions. The practice of invective was a common part of Roman oratory, and along with praise, makes up the particular genre of epideictic oratory. In her study of Roman oratorical invective, Valentina Arena notes that invective could be used abusively or humorously, highlighting an opponent’s shortcomings or mistakes, and adds a powerful pathos appeal to logical appeals in order to manipulate the emotions of an audience. Invective was highly individualized and confrontational, a tradition which has some corollary with Greek rhetoric, but which was used extensively in Rome, both as a result of the rhetorical tradition which influenced it, as well as the specific cultural and social mores of the time where invective was viewed as a legitimate means of combating political enemies. Very little was off limits in these attacks, which could include insults of personal appearance and parentage among other things, and “the speaker’s aim in this context was to cast out his target from the community, or at least brand him as deviant,” though they did not always succeed (153). Additionally, invective not only undermined the authority or acceptability of the person attacked, but also served to assert dominance by the one doing the attacking and “it is no coincidence then that Cicero made use of his most strident invective at critical moments in his career when he needed to consolidate his position in the public eye” (154). Despite the range of insults that were
62 acceptable, speakers still had to be careful to retain their own dignitas (esteem, standing, or dignity) while engaging in the practice of invective. Because of the need for dignitas, vulgar or obscene words would be avoided or substituted with witty euphemisms or allusions. By using a rhetoric of crisis and invective, Cicero attempts to convince the Roman Senate and people that the actions of Antony mark a crucial turning point in the Roman Republic, and that if action is not taken quickly, it will lead to the downfall of the Republic. His tone, while it may seem exaggerated or manipulative as read by the modern reader, was in alignment with Roman rhetorical tactics of the time and the back and forth rebuttals between Antony and Cicero demonstrate the power of oratory in shaping public opinion. While Hall notes that Cicero had used many similar tactics in other speeches, he claims, “the main difference lies in the vigor and intensity with which he pursues this rhetoric of crisis throughout the Philippics as a whole” (287). He also uses humor to undermine the ethos of Antony, pointing to his notorious drunkenness and socializing with lower-class peoples, such as pimps and actresses, as a means of discrediting him. Conversely, he praises those who would resist Antony or who could be called upon to lead instead (e.g., Octavian). Hall claims that the “confrontational, often caustic directness” of the Philippics is the result of “a clearly defined cause in which he fully believes,” and that “it was [this] conviction, however, that cost Cicero his life” (302). Additionally, these speeches mark “a turning point in the tradition of Roman deliberative oratory, the last great attempt to pursue Republican government through the mechanism of senatorial debate” (302). These latter two points further support the idea of Cicero as a parrhesiastes, an orator who spoke out against an oppressive regime and the dwindling libertas of the Roman Republic, even when doing so resulted in the loss of his life. The Second Philippic is the first of Cicero’s works that marks Antony as an unredeemable enemy of the state (hostis), and though it was composed in retaliation for Antony’s response to Cicero’s First Philippic, it was a written document distributed to the people of Rome, though addressed to a senatorial audience as though it were a delivered speech. The Second Philippic marks the turn toward a direct imitation of the style of Demosthenes, as the First was more conciliatory and still held within it the hope of reconciliation. Wooten argues that the Second Philippic was distributed as a pamphlet precisely because “Cicero was embarking on what was almost a rhetorical exercise that he realized might be quite different from the oratory he had practiced all his life” (51). Additionally, it is clear that Cicero studied Demosthenes even more fully than he had by the time he had composed Brutus and Orator and, “like Demosthenes in reference to Athens, he realized that this was one of the fundamental crises in Roman history, a crisis in which the existence of Rome as he knew it and his own place in history was at stake” (52-3). Wooten notes that both orators identify themselves with the people and the State for which they speak, “thus, any attack on Demosthenes or Cicero becomes an attack on the Athenian people or the Roman senate, and vice versa” (53). In this way, Cicero (like Demosthenes before him) aligns his ethos with the values of the Republic, including libertas and the ongoing representation of the people36 within governmental decisions.
36 This in not meant to imply that Cicero was always a champion of democracy or of “the people” generally speaking. While at various points in his career he worked to ensure rights and resources for the citizens of Rome and he strongly supported the Roman constitution, he was also deeply embedded in the social hierarchies of the time and expressed concern early in his career about the growing power of the people, believing that the state functioned better when they were governed by their “betters” (Millar 27).
63 Early in the Second Philippic, Cicero aligns himself as a representative of the Roman Republic, claiming himself as its staunch supporter, aligning those who oppose him as likewise opposing the State. In his first line, he states, “none for the last twenty years has been an enemy to the republic without at the same time declaring war against me,” and a few sentences later that “all of them were attacked by me for the sake of the republic,” which immediately positions him as the representative for the Roman Republic and those who oppose him as its enemies (I). Much like Demosthenes, he sets himself up as being a truth teller in his portrayal of Antony and the relative relationships of Antony (anti-Republic) versus himself (pro-Republic), specifically saying “This, in fact, is the truth. He thought it impossible to prove to the satisfaction of those men who resembled himself, that he was an enemy to his country, if he was not also an enemy to me” and that Antony could not secure his own safety “by any other means than by the destruction of the republic” (I). In this model, an enemy of the country is also an enemy of Cicero, for the latter is the champion of and speaker for the former. Like Demosthenes arguing to repel Philip of Macedon in order to save Athenian democracy, Cicero is attempting to persuade action against a particular person—Antony—before it is too late to save the Republic. In addition to setting himself up as the champion of Rome, Cicero (like Demosthenes) reminds his audience that if they had listened to him earlier then many of the hardships already befallen could have been avoided. Now, even, it may be too late, and Cicero reminds his audience of what he has already said, as well as the negative effects that have come about because he was not heeded: If, as I have said before, my counsels and my authority had prevailed, you would this day be in indigence, we should be free, and the republic would not have lost so many generals and so many armies. For I confess that, when I saw that these things certainly would happen, which now have happened, I was as greatly grieved as all the other virtuous citizens would have been if they had foreseen the same things. I did grieve, I did grieve, O conscript fathers,37 that the republic which had once been saved by your counsels and mine, was fated to perish in a short time. (XV) Additionally, if peace had come about as Cicero wished and civil war avoided, “we should be still this day enjoying the republic…if my opinion had prevailed” (XV). Modeled on the Philippics of Demosthenes, Cicero calls upon the ethos of the truth teller and defender of the state, telling his audience (both the Senate and the people of Rome) truths they may not like to hear but which he deems necessary to preserve the value of libertas in Rome. Though Cicero does use invective to describe many of Antony’s less desirable personal characteristics that go against the agreed upon mores of Rome, his main argument against Antony is that he is an enemy of the state. After detailing some of Antony’s personal faults, Cicero changes tactics, calling upon the conscript fathers to focus “not to those things which [Antony] did indecently and profligately to his own injury and to his own disgrace as a private individual; but to the actions which he did impiously and wickedly against us and our fortunes,— that is to say, against the whole republic” (XXI). Cicero also expresses his outrage that Antony has spoken against him in the Senate, given that he (Cicero) is clearly a supporter of the Republic whereas Antony is not. He is outraged that Antony “dared, before these conscript fathers, to say anything against me, when I have been pronounced by this order to be the saviour of my country,
37 Note here, as throughout the Second Philippic, Cicero addresses the “conscript fathers” as though delivering a speech to the Senate, though his work was actually created solely as a written tract that was distributed to the people of Rome.
64 and when you have been declared by it to be an enemy of the republic,” again setting himself up as the champion of the Republic and Antony as its enemy (XVI). Here, too, one can see Cicero’s concerns about the decreasing power of the Senate and he urges Antony to uphold the old Republic by heeding “the authority of the senate” that has entreated “that you would not desire the republic to be entirely overthrown and destroyed,” but Antony would not listen to “the chief men of the state by their entreaties, nor the elders by their warnings, nor the senate in a full house by pleading with you” (XVI). Instead, using pecuniary metaphors, Cicero accuses Antony of “selling” the Republic and ignoring the values upon which it is based. Cicero also hints at the danger of speaking out the way he is in the Philippics, which were to be the last set of works he did before he was, in fact, assassinated for his invectives against Antony. In this Second Philippic, though he has already clearly criticized Antony for his various crimes against society and the state, he worries that, “to find fault with the rest of his actions, O conscript fathers, is difficult, and somewhat unsafe” (XXIV). He does, nevertheless, continue his assault on Antony’s actions and character for twenty-two more sections of this work, reminding his audience repeatedly of his lifelong dedication to the Republic and reinforcing the public perception “that the country had been saved by me” (XXIV).38 Cicero realizes the risks he is taking by speaking against Antony, making his actions and words in The Philippics an example of parrhesiastic rhetoric. He notes this danger, but also vows not to turn away from his mission because of it, citing the importance of the Republic as greater than his fear for his own life. Near the end of the Second Philippic, he claims that “I defended the republic as a young man, I will not abandon it now that I am old. I scorned the sword of Catiline, I will not quail before yours. No, I will rather cheerfully expose my own person, if the liberty of the city can be restored by my death” (XLVI). In his closing lines, Cicero sets himself up as a potential martyr for the Republic, telling his audience that he would willingly die for the Republic, and that having already experienced so many honors in his life, that doing so would be appropriate, as long as Rome retained its libertas: In truth, if twenty years ago in this very temple I asserted that death could not come prematurely upon a man of consular rank, with how much more truth must I now say the same of an old man? To me, indeed, O conscript fathers, death is now even desirable, after all the honours which I have gained, and the deeds which I have done. I only pray for these two things: one, that dying I may leave the Roman people free. No greater boon than this can be granted me by the immortal gods. The other, that every one may meet with a fate suitable to his deserts and conduct towards the republic. (XLVI) In this way, Cicero ends his Second Philippic on a note that establishes his actions, words, and motivations as parrhesiastic, even though an exact word for that term did not exist in Latin. He shows that he is willing to speak out in this risky situation for the greater benefit of Rome, speaking to values that they hold as imperative to the just functioning of society. This work, though addressed as though it were being delivered in the Senate and for a senatorial audience, was actually distributed to the people of Rome, so that Cicero’s position was clear to any who would read or hear about his work. This, along with the remaining twelve Philippics would largely serve to establish Cicero not only as a statesman who supported the Republic even
38 Though this specifically refers to an instance where Antony’s soldiers did not harm Cicero, he claims that it was because they “recollected that the country had been saved by me,” ostensibly referring to his discovery and dismantling of the Catiline conspiracy mentioned previously.
65 as it was in decline, but also as a parrhesiastes who was willing to speak out, even if it cost him his life. While many of the remaining Philippics were delivered in the Senate with a particular event or exigence in mind, the Seventh Philippic was delivered by Cicero as a more general warning about the ongoing dangers of Antony. According to Wooten, the Seventh Philippic “is undoubtedly the finest of his speeches against Antony…[and]… surely the most Demosthenic,” and because as it was not written in response to any particular crisis or event, it allowed Cicero to “deal with the problem of Antony in general and to explore its far-reaching consequences” (87-8). As previously mentioned, Senators of high rank were allowed to speak first in the Senate and could ostensibly speak about whatever they wanted. In this case, Cicero exercised his power of libertas and free speech on the Senate floor by using a question dealing with a public works project to, instead, speak against Antony in the Seventh Philippic. Against Cicero’s advice,39 ambassadors had recently been sent by the Senate to speak with Antony, and though this was not the subject of that Senate meeting, Cicero states that he is unable to concentrate on the current small but necessary matters, and instead must speak to the more pressing issue of Antony.40 While many are hoping for peace between Antony and Rome, at this point (late January of 43 BCE) Cicero disparages of any chance of reconciliation with Antony and instead calls for war. He knows that this position will be unpopular but feels moved to deliver his position anyway, doing so by using techniques associated with parrhesiastic speech. Before delivering the part of his oration that he assumes will be unpopular, he reminds the audience of his ethos, saying, “I, who have been at all times an adviser of peace…for the whole of the career of my industry has been passed in the forum and in the senate-house, and in warding off dangers from my friends” (III). He is aware that he is about to say something risky and so builds this acknowledgement into his oration: I am speaking in peril: I shudder to think how you will receive it, O conscript fathers: but still, out of regard for my unceasing desire to support and increase your dignity, I beg and entreat you, O conscript fathers, although it may be a bitter thing to hear, or an incredible thing that it should be said by Marcus Cicero, still to receive at first, without offence, what I am going to say, and not to reject it before I have fully explained what it is. (III) He reminds the Senate that he has “always been a panegyrist, have always been an adviser of peace,” but nevertheless he does “not wish to have peace with Marcus Antonius” (III). Having stated the dangerous position he holds, Cicero claims that he is able to continue in less fear, saying that he “approach[es] the rest of my speech with great hope, O conscript fathers, since I have now passed by that perilous point amid your silence. Why then do I not wish for peace? Because it would be shameful; because it would be dangerous; because it cannot possibly be real” (III). This message, delivered within the Senate house—an environment that could be loud, boisterous, and not immune from violence—to a group of men who had recently voted in opposition to the position he was advocating, is parrhesiastic in the sense that it disrupted the proceedings of the day in order to articulate a risky message that went against what most of the
39 See Cicero’s Fifth and Sixth Philippic. 40 Cicero begins the Seventh Philippic with the lines, “We are consulted to-day about matters of small importance, but still perhaps necessary, O conscript fathers. The consul submits a motion to us about the Appian road, and about the coinage, the tribune of the people one about the Luperci. And although it seems easy to settle such matters as those, still my mind cannot fix itself on such subjects, being anxious about more important matters.”
66 audience wanted to hear, given that the ambassadors had already been sent. Cicero knows the risk he takes and proceeds anyway, and would continue to do so for the next three months.41 Cicero continues to argue for the values of the Republic and a return to senatorial authority, even as the Republic slides toward autocracy. He urges the Senate to “preserve your consistency, your wisdom, your firmness, your perseverance,” calling upon the old practices and ideals of the Republic, encouraging “old-fashioned severity, if at least the authority of the senate is anxious to establish its credit, its honour, its renown, and its dignity, things which this order has been too long deprived of” (V). In a parrhesiastic call to action, Cicero demands that Antony and his men be forcibly disarmed, “and if we cannot do so, (I will say what it becomes one who is both a senator and a Roman to say,) let us die” (V). Libertas and the Republic are so crucial that death is preferable to defeat or to a false sense of peace with Antony. Because of this, Cicero advocates a course of action that may lead to violence, but which also connects that course of action to the values of the Republic. Cicero invokes his own role and reputation as a truth teller and supporter of the Republic and connects this to the will of the people in constructing his parrhesiastic ethos. Claiming his own sincerity and calling upon the community to witness, he says, “I will warn you, I will forewarn you, I will give you notice, I will call gods and men to witness what I do really believe. Nor will I display my good faith alone, which perhaps may seem to be enough, but which in a chief citizen is not enough; I will exert all my care, and prudence, and vigilance” (VI). Cicero claims that he speaks for the people, and that he—not Antony—is a friend to the citizens of Rome. He asserts that he can do this because “in a full and crowded forum, twice, with one heart and one voice, [the people] summoned me into the assembly, and plainly showed their excessive eagerness for the recovery of their liberty” (VIII). Cicero unites his message and ethos with that of the people, defending his position as simultaneously being the voice of the citizens of Rome, for whom he ostensibly speaks. He does so at risk to himself, making these speeches an act of parrhesia in the name of values such as libertas and constitutional rights. He ties these rights to the current actions at hand, warning the Senate that they need to act on behalf of the people as well as themselves: But I warn you, O conscript fathers, the liberty of the Roman people, which is entrusted to you, is at stake. The life and fortune of every virtuous man is at stake, against which Antonius has long been directing his insatiable covetousness, united to his savage cruelty. Your authority is at stake, which you will wholly lose if you do not maintain it now. (VIII) Like Demosthenes before him, Cicero posits the moment as one of crisis, warning the Senate that they may not have another chance to act again, and that the fate of the Republic hangs in the balance. He says, “You have such an opportunity as no one ever had. It is in your power so to avail yourself of this wise firmness of the senate, of this zeal of the equestrian order, of this ardour of the Roman people, as to release the Roman people from fear and danger for ever,” joining their current actions to the ongoing and safety and freedom of Rome (VIII).42 Claiming to speak from a place of values within the community, Cicero takes a stand on the issue of Antony and the possibility of peace with him, delivering his oration in the name of the people and coming from an ethos that has consistently upheld the values of the Republic.
41 The Fourteenth Philippic was delivered in late April of 43 BCE. 42 This is the penultimate line of the speech and the last referring to Antony. The final line refers back to the original issue of discussion for the day, to which he offhandedly says, “As to the matters to which your motion before the senate refers, I agree with Publius Servilius.”
67 While The Philippics themselves can be viewed as parrhesiastic due to their tone, content, method of delivery, and element of risk, the fact that Cicero was indeed killed largely because of them further supports the claim that these works should be considered in this light. Not only was Cicero executed in December 43 BCE at Antony’s insistence, but his body was mutilated and his head and hands, “the hands with which he wrote the Philippics,” were nailed to the Rostra where he often spoke, “a sight that made the Romans shudder” (Plutarch 48.6-49.1). Additionally, Cassius Dio reported that Antony’s wife, Fulvia, stabbed Cicero’s tongue repeatedly with her hairpin in a final act of defiance against the oratorical skill that for so long resisted the imperial bent of the Roman political climate (History). Cicero would be the last great advocate of the Republic, and though he supported Octavian over Antony, the former would declare himself the first Emperor of Rome, thus ending the Republic and its constitutional guarantee of libertas.
Parrhesia and Empire: The Consequences for Speaking As the case of Cicero shows, the consequences of parrhesiastic rhetoric are largely dependent upon the political climate of the rhetor, where political systems that invite multiple voices, including those of dissention, are more likely to tolerate frank, open speech. Conversely, as political systems move toward states of autocracy or totalitarianism, parrhesia is enacted only at great risk. However, it could be argued that it is exactly in those moments of transition when freedoms are eroding that a greater exigence and kairotic moment are created wherein parrhesia should, can, and perhaps must arise. Cicero’s rhetorical career also highlights the overlaps of print and orality discussed in the Section One Overview where print serves as a means of promoting or furthering the potential of oral delivery to wider audiences. For Cicero, writing became a way, first of expressing his thoughts when he was not permitted to speak publicly, and second as a vehicle to distribute his parrhesiatsic rhetoric to audiences that were not present in the Senate. Writing down, and likely editing, his speeches for distribution is also a tactic taken by Demosthenes, whom Cicero admired and emulated, so that the orality/print overlap can be seen in both of these parrhesiastes. It is also interesting that Cicero composed the Second Philippic as though he were addressing the Senate, when in fact he was not. This pamphlet also marks the transition from the possibility of reconciliation with Antony demonstrated in Cicero’s First Philippic to a position where enmity was the only possibility between them. This rhetorical artifact, though it ostensibly addressed the “Conscript Fathers” of the Senate, was never intended to be an oration, and yet it reads as one. Perhaps the purpose of this was to remind Cicero’s reading audience that he was, in fact, a great orator at a time when oral delivery was the pinnacle of rhetorical skill. In addition, while he intended the pamphlet for distribution to public audiences, that audience would ostensible include members of the Senate, who were likely to read his words so that it was as though he were delivering them during deliberations. It is possible, too, that the wider circulation of his words, which include multiple instances of invective, could prove more embarrassing for Antony with the wider readership provided by print. All of these factors show how print and orality worked together in the time of Cicero, though without the former we would not be able to continue analyzing the effects of the latter. Oral delivery, while undoubtedly the most potent medium for rhetorical action in Cicero’s time and in the kaitoric moment of crisis, leaves behind no traces of the words spoken. Because of this, print serves a vital function in the study of rhetoric, even during times when oral delivery was its primary vehicle.
68 Transitions in the political climate of Rome to one of greater control and autocracy, as well as the increasingly popular practice of writing and reading texts, are evident in Chapter 4. In the Roman Empire, there was little need for great orators to sway the public opinion, for the Emperor cares little what the public thinks of him or if they approve of his decisions. In an autocratic environment, parrhesia changes—at times manifesting as more subtle, and at others as extremely bold and risky. Additionally, because there is little place for public, political parrhesia, philosophical parrhesia, enacted mostly in small, insular communities, increases in importance. From the first to the fourth centuries CE, the changes in the perception and practice of parrhesia will shift, though the character of parrhesia as a risky act of truth telling will not altogether disappear. These transformations, discussed at length in the next chapter, continue until the end of the Classical age, at which point the Christian conception of parrhesia will largely dominate for the next several centuries.
69 Chapter 4 Parrhesia and Autocracy: Roman Empire and Early Christian Eras
As evidenced in the tumultuous political life of Cicero, the late Republic, embroiled in too much chaos, was not able to continue to protect citizen rights in productive ways, and the people eventually grew tired of ongoing violence and unrest. This set the political stage for Augustus to become emperor, and though he began his rule touting political rhetoric reminiscent of Cicero’s own words and was notoriously open to hearing criticism, his reign ended the Republic of Rome, initiating the end of constitutionally protected libertas. Though Augustus was known to be tolerant of criticisms against him (as was Caesar, upon whom he modeled this behavior), there was a progressive erosion of rights beginning with his reign. This chapter describes the ways in which parrhesia develops after the fall of both Athenian democracy and the Roman Republic, showing how different environments, political systems, and ideologies alter parrhesia in order to situate it within emerging frameworks and paradigms and how, by the end of the fourth century, parrhesia is conceptualized in ways that somewhat undermine its role as a truth telling force used to question power structures and popular beliefs. While politically oriented orations did not have much of a place in the workings of the Empire, writing and poetry continued to be produced, which often reflected the cultural climate of the times. Part of the examination in this chapter looks at the poets Vergil and Lucan, who both wrote about the mytho-historic foundation of the Empire in the first century CE. Though each of these poets wrote in vastly different manners, their work represents various approaches to critiquing the empirical political system in parrhesiastic ways. Also within the context of the Roman Empire, philosophic communities continued the tradition of parrhesia within friendships and interpersonal relationships as a means of improving the wellbeing of the listener. To understand how parrhesia works in these communities, I examine works by Philodemus and Plutarch that show the role of frank speaking in these situations up until the rise of Christianity in the early centuries CE. Parrhesia is mentioned in the New Testament several times and clearly plays a role in the way that early evangelists and apostles conceived of their roles in speaking out about their new—and often marginalized—religion. In the early days of the Church, categories of orthodoxy and heresy are eventually solidified, and parrhesia undergoes additional transformations in meaning and usage alongside changing conceptions of truth, power, and hierarchy. This chapter will trace the conceptual shifts in parrhesia from the start of the Roman Empire, through the communities of philosophic groups like the Epicureans and Stoics, up until the consolidation of the Early Church in the fourth century CE. Tracing these transformations will explain how the changes in the perception and use of parrhesia reflect alterations in the political climate of the times, and also serve to shape the understanding of parrhesia carried forth from this point on, when it was considered at all.
Free Speech under the Empire After the Republic fell and the Empire emerged, libertas as a political right and duty was significantly reduced. Because of this, manifestations of parrhesia likewise changed to reflect the political conditions and lack of public venues for classical oratorical performances of parrhesia. The Empire, while at first appearing to be a relief from the violence of political factions, eventually did away with most rights of free speech and the level of tolerance of dissent became based solely upon the whim of the current emperor.
70 In his paper describing the trajectory of free speech in Rome, Valdes asserts that under the Empire, freedom of speech “ceased to be a real ‘right’: it depended on the will of the emperor” and works were burned, writers were exiled, and some were eventually given death sentences under Domitian (135). Valdes claims that “it can be said that the empire progressively destroyed freedom of speech in the Roman world” compared to the liberties and freedoms enjoyed under the Republic (137). In a parallel to the good and bad parrhesia discussed by Foucault, “legal limitations on this right seem to have developed together with the right itself. The more it was used, the more it was abused, and the more restrictions were tried on it” (136-7). Augustus expanded laws that made it illegal to produce “slanderous writing….against great people” and charges of defamation could result in the burning of all of an author’s writing (137). The expansion of Lex Maiestatis43 continued to become more restrictive and “unsurprisingly, this law became a tool of arbitrariness, particularly in the hands of eccentric emperors” (138). This led to the notorious excesses and violence under emperors such as Caligula, Nero, Domitian, and others. While many certainly dealt with the suppression of free speech by moderating their utterances, there were others who continued to speak out against it, despite the risks for doing so. During this time of dwindling libertas, Wirszubski also notes “it seems that the suppression of freedom drove many to ostentatious and provocative intransigence” including Helvidius, who “spoke his mind freely” and refused to recognize Vespasian as emperor; Vespasian eventually had him executed (153). (Another Stoic philosopher who opposed the Empire, Herennius Senecio, later wrote about his life and was executed by Domitian.) In the Early Empire, freedom of speech and libertas became more restricted and “informers were everywhere and would note down ambiguous jokes, and even unguarded utterances of a drunken man. Nero was wont to assail passers-by at night, and self-defense might cost a man his life. Property was not safe… [and]… it was dangerous to publish books that would not please an emperor, or to pursue one’s studies in freedom” (Wirszubski159). Some writers continued to write political satire or critique and got away with it (e.g., Tacitus and Dio Cassius) but not all were that fortunate nor willing to take those risks. Additionally, writers were occasionally and specifically protected by emperors,44 but this, too, was seemingly arbitrary and subject to change.
Poetry and Parrhesia in the Empire Two contrasting ways of confronting the new restrictions of speech of the early Empire can be seen in the works of Vergil and Lucan, both of whom wrote epic histories of Rome, but from apparently different ideological perspectives. However, though Lucan’s critique is much more obvious and direct, subtle criticisms of the Empire and violent suppression can likewise be viewed in Vergil. By briefly comparing work from these two poets, both of which portray political rhetorical delivery, it is possible to get a sense of the perceived role of parrhesia and oratory in the arts under the new regime. Critics have argued for centuries about whether the Aeneid is solely a work of political propaganda designed to promote the Empire45 or whether its message is more subversive. Narducci discusses the various positions that scholars have taken about the Aeneid over the centuries, stating that at one time, it was thought to be primarily an oratorical work, though he
43 These are various laws against treason, a category that expanded during the Empire to include more and different categories of behavior deemed treasonous or dangerous to the state. 44 e.g., Horace was protected by Augustus. 45 Some accounts claim that Augustus commissioned the work.
71 believes that this is an overstatement. However, oratory does feature in Vergil’s work and he was certainly educated in rhetoric, though moments of oratorical delivery appear only sporadically in the Aeneid. A particular character, an orator named Drances, is thought to be modeled after Cicero and “the speeches made by Drances and Turnus echo some of the passions that raged in the political debates during the final period of the Roman republic. The words of the demagogue Drances recall the fiery speeches of certain tribunes of the plebs” (Narducci, Rhetoric 385). However, for Narducci, Vergil’s critique was not sufficient and “by giving a mythical and religious foundation to the power of the princeps,46 Vergil’s poem had covered up a tragic, disheartening reality: the end of Roman freedom and the transformation of the ancient res publica into a tyranny” (Rhetoric 391). It is possible, though, to look beneath the mythic surface of Vergil’s epic to see that he did, in fact, critique the loss of freedom during this time, but perhaps was attempting to do so in a way that was subtle enough to be distributed uncensored amidst the climate of danger and uncertain oppression. By looking at Drances and his actions as an orator amidst war and chaos, Vergil’s subtle support of the newly-fallen Republic47 and its last parrhesiastic orators can be seen. Near the end of Book XII of the Aeneid, there is a clash of ideologies between Drances and Turnus (the violent antagonist of the poem) that is echoed elsewhere between order and chaos, words and violence, serenitas and furor.48 Drances specifically invokes the right to speak freely in front of Turnus saying, “let him grant freedom of speech”49 and acknowledges that he speaks at a risk: “Indeed I will speak, though he may threaten me with weapons or death.”50 In Drances’ speech, he clearly states that he is saying what no one else dares to say but that all believe, i.e., that Turnus is pushing them toward a war for his own potential selfish gains that will result in avoidable tragedy for the community. In this act, he speaks freely but at a risk to himself, and is so doing demonstrates a type of parrhesiastic action. This parrhesiastic orator’s call for peace is not heeded, and Turnus, who insists upon bloody war, is followed, resulting in great costs and loss of life on both sides. It is of note that Drances invokes the possibility of freedom of speech, a necessary right within the Republic but one that is not valued, nor even possible, within a totalitarian regime where a figure, such as an emperor or violence-prone warlord, presides. According to Index Verborum Vergilianus, the only other place a variation of libertatis occurs in the Aeneid is in Book VI in reference to a future “avenging Brutus” who acts “for the sake of splendid freedom.”51 Here, too, a reference to Brutus within the context of a poem composed after the fall of the Republic implies a commentary about the politics of Vergil subtly embedded in a poem that, on the surface, seems to glorify the coming of the Empire. Invoking freedom within the climate of the Augustine Empire is an interesting choice to make, and it is noteworthy that this word, and the act of speaking freely, is invoked by Drances in his speech. This also may connect the act of oration with freedom of speech, a connection recognized as risky during regimes where such freedoms are not a part of the state-held political doctrine.
46 Leader or chief. 47 Born in 70 BCE, Vergil was a contemporary of Cicero and would have been in his mid-forties when Augustus came to power and Cicero was executed. 48 Literally, calm versus rage. 49 det libertatem fandi 50 dicam equidem, licet arma mihi mortemque minetur. 51 Qtd. from Mandelbaum.
72 The other word of note used in this scene is utilized not by Drances, but in a type of accusation against him. Turnus charges that Drances “thunders with eloquence” (tona eloquio), significant because this is the only instance of invoking the word “eloquence” within the Aeneid, which again creates a connection to Cicero within the figure of Drances. For Cicero, eloquence was the highest goal of the orator, one that combined both skill and morality. Cicero describes it as having "so potent a force that it embraces the origin and operation and developments of all things, all the virtues and duties, all the natural principles governing the morals and minds and life of mankind, and also determines their customs and laws and rights, and controls the government of the state, and expresses everything that concerns whatever topic in a graceful and flowing style" (de Orator 338). This also speaks to Cicero's belief (or observation) that language has the power to make and decide the course of human actions and history. Due to this perspective, he privileges oratory as a supremely powerful practice, and eloquence as the prime director of that power. The specific invocation of eloquio in this scene suggests a connection between Drances and Cicero and it is further noted by Poschl that “Vergil adheres to Cicero’s philosophical views” (23). This scene may be read as a clashing of ideological perspectives: Drances offers the course of action most beneficial for the community, which is ultimately the one that ends the war. However, his suggestion is a bit ahead of its time and the invective rhetoric of Turnus, filled with boasting and violence, wins the current debate. In these ways, Vergil glorifies the parrhesiastic actions of orators such as Cicero, though likewise shows that their efforts are often lost upon the crowd. Lucan, a poet who wrote approximately sixty years after Vergil, was more overtly critical of the Empire and its lack of libertas. His grandfather was the famous Stoic, Seneca the Elder, and he was tutored by his uncle, Seneca the Younger, both of whom may have had influences on his ideology and focus on libertas, even amidst the oppression of the Empire. Lucan’s early work was originally supported by Nero, though eventually, for reasons which remain unclear,52 Nero forbade the publishing of Lucan’s poetry, an order Lucan ignored. Lucan’s work the Pharisalia (or Bellum Civile, On Civil War) was overtly anti-Empire and pro-Republic. When Lucan was twenty-six, Nero ordered his execution for alleged treason and involvement in a conspiracy led by Piso, though Lucan chose suicide instead. Because his life ended suddenly, the Pharisalia ends abruptly at Book X. By playing off of Vergil’s Aeneid, Lucan offers a more critical look at the history of the Roman Empire, portraying it as the rise of tyranny and bloodshed, rather than the more heroic approach taken by Vergil. By utilizing many of the same themes found in the Aeneid, the Pharisalia “does not sing of the mythical roots of the glory of Rome, but of its more recent annihilation” (Narducci, Rhetoric 390). Lucan sets up Caesar as the overpowering antagonist in his poem, the tyrant who overthrows the republican Senate and “Pompeius is in a sense its hero. He was, to Lucan, the champion of liberty and the Senate” (Ridley). Caesar is contrasted to the heroic view of the Senate as he “despised the ancient forms and offices which were no longer the symbols of living force. In him Lucan saw only the upstart, who wished to cast aside the forms of law because, and only because, they obstructed his path to empire” (Ridley). To Lucan, Caesar is the destroyer of Roman cities, citizens, and way of life—he is the wholly vicious but unstoppable antagonist of Lucan’s work.
52 Tacitus claims that Nero was jealous of Lucan’s talent, though others claim that it was Lucan’s criticism of the Empire, and of Nero specifically, that led to their strained relationship.
73 Caesar is painted as a relentless tyrant, who is motivated solely by a desire for power. Describing his motives, Lucan says, “No such repute had Caesar won, nor fame / But energy was his that could not rest — / The only shame he knew was not to win…. With sword unpitying: every victory won… Aimed at the summit of power…Triumph his joy, though ruin marked his track (I.163-72). As “the hidden motives of the chiefs” come into play, Lucan sees the passing of the Republic, saying, “Farewell the ancient ways!” (I. 180, 186). Additionally, Caesar presses his own agenda over the legal wishes of the Senate and violence becomes superior to constitutional law. Caesar speaks, saying, “By this my voice against the Senate’s will / Was thy command prolonged. But silenced now /Are laws in war,” demonstrating that law means nothing in the face of his will and his choice to push his agenda through violence (I. 314-16). At the beginning of the poem, Caesar is pictured as a power-hungry usurper of the Republic, an image that will follow him throughout Lucan’s work, constituting a dangerous critique of the Empire. Since Pompey is viewed as the hero and defender of the Republic, Caesar’s behavior when Pompey is executed is particularly vicious and demonstrates Lucan’s opinion about the motivations for Rome’s (now) glorified first family. When he sees the head of Pompey, he pretends that he is grieving, and he “feigned tears and grief he hoped to hide / His joy else manifest” (1255-56). In instigating and celebrating this act of brutality, Caesar likewise shows disrespect to the Republic and the Senate, showing no remorse for either action: “He, Caesar, who with mien unaltered spurned / The Roman Senate, and with eyes undimmed / Looked on Pharsalia’s field”53 (1261-63). Lucan does not hide his position about the overthrow of the Republic and laments the “depth of shame / To Roman honour” brought about by this “Perfidious traitor” (1279, 1281). In this way, Lucan uses his poetry to speak out about the unethical actions that led to the Empire, and in doing so critiques the legitimacy of its reign. This parrhesiastic act, especially so once he was ordered to cease publication of his poetry by Nero himself, shows the possibilities for resistance even under a repressive regime that did not support libertas or freedom of speech for its citizens. Lucan’s life was lost, possibly because of his insistence upon continuing to express his outrage against these oppressions “often in tones of the grimmest indignatio”54 within his work (Narducci, Rhetoric 391). This shows that while Vergil and Lucan may have approached the uncertain suppression of free speech in the Empire, both managed to express critiques through their poetry, albeit in varying degrees of directness. Nevertheless, in a climate of arbitrary violence and tyranny, both poets enacted parrhesia under oppressive circumstances within works that continued to circulate long after their respective deaths.
Friendship, Philosophy, and Parrhesia During the time of the Roman Empire, Stoic and Cynic philosophers also spoke out against oppression, and because of this they comprised a good deal of the victims of the new models of intolerance. They were accused of “fostering treason and anarchy,” and considered “worse than a nuisance,” so that Vespasian banished all philosophers in 71 CE (Wirszubski 144). Though Stoics were notoriously pro-king, they spoke out freely against tyranny, a critique that hit too close to the mark for the new line of emperors and there was “one thing genuine Stoics were not prepared to compromise: freedom” (Wirszubski 146). The main philosophic question “from the standpoint of libertas, [was] how to secure freedom under absolutism,” something that was
53 This is the location where Caesar defeated Pompey. 54 Displeasure or disdain; indignation.
74 deemed largely an impossibility, other than in extreme cases of resignation, such as Seneca the Younger recommending suicide as an act of resistance against the suppression of libertas. Similarly to Athens, as the government becomes more restrictive, the right to speak freely moves from the political to the private realm where “the constitution can no longer effectively protect the citizen [thus] libertas and servitas55 become modes of personal conduct rather than expressions of political rights or rightlessness” (Wirszubski 164). Furthermore, rather than libertas being intricately implicated within civil law, under the Empire, libertas is conceived “less as a constitutional right than as the individual will and courage to be free” though writers such as Tacitus also did not regard “defiant intransigence or outspoken opposition as a short road to freedom” (Wirszubski 165-6). In a sense, libertas becomes the ability to maintain dignity under oppression, a courageous act in itself. In the Greco-Roman world, with the collapse of democracy and the Republic, venues for politically sanctioned parrhesiastic actions were severely limited, and those who sought to undertake it despite these conditions often met with severe consequences. While these moments of resistance continued under Roman rule, parrhesia as a philosophic act of truth telling within a community or between friends gained prominence throughout the Empire, changing the usage of the term within this context. Recalling Socrates, parrhesia meant the duty to speak the truth, even when it was unwelcome, and regardless of the consequences. Dialectic, as a type of debate between two people, does not progress until both parties are in agreement, and this is the proper way to arrive at truth in the Socratic method. Within these debates, parrhesia, speaking frankly, is a required criteria for partners to engage, as they must have “knowledge, good will, and frankness” to arrive at the truth (van Raalte 286-7). This method of truth telling, often for the good of the person being told something uncomfortable or difficult to hear, was contrasted with flattery, which was viewed as dangerous and disingenuous. As noted by Foucault and many others,56 parrhesia, in the absence of a political realm that encouraged or at least tolerated free speech, began to take on an inter-personal, philosophical character, as represented by Socrates in the Platonic dialogs discussed in Chapter 2. In this context, parrhesia moves from the political sphere and begins to represent a “problem of the care of the self,” as it moves away from the domain of politics (Foucault Fearless 92). Foucault does not claim that there is a strict chronology between the political and Socratic types of parrhesia, but rather that there was continuity and overlap between them. He notes that “parrhesia as it appears in the field of philosophical activity in Greco-Roman culture is not primarily a concept or theme, but a practice which tries to shape the specific relations individuals have to themselves” and that these practices are the foundation for the moral subjectivity we continue to experience today (Fearless 106). Secondly, the target of this new parrhesia is not the assembly, but rather individuals in an attempt “to convince someone that he must take care of himself and others; and this means that he much change his life” (Fearless 106). This idea of parrhesia as an
55 Servitude or slavery. 56 This change in usage of the term parrhesia is noted in many sources, all of which seem to be more or less in agreement about this discursive shift between the political/democratic and the personal/philosophic. These works include Saxonhouse’s Free Speech and Democracy in Ancient Athens, several authors in Free Speech in Classical Antiquity, and essays by Konstan, Glad, and Winter in Friendship, Flattery, and Frankness of Speech: Studies on Friendship in the New Testament World, Konstan’s book Friendship in the Classical World, and others.
75 inner or interpersonal practice will influence philosophy in the Empire, as well as the ways in which early Christians relate to one another and to “truth.” Philodemus, an Epicurean from the first century BCE, deals with the dynamics and tensions between flattery and frankness in two treatises, one “On Flattery” (Peri Kolakeias) and the other “On Frankness” (Peri Parrhesia). These works specifically address the dynamics between teachers and disciples within their communities to improve or “save” fellow disciples. Philodemus recommends mixing praise with criticism, as well as speaking honestly to friends in private, noting, “that only the sage will know how to be forthright in a way that is attuned to the individual nature of the student” (Konstan 112). In this sense, friendship continues to be a bond between individuals, but is enacted within the larger community of like-minded followers “in the service of philosophical instruction and development” (Konstan 113). Philodemus, like most Epicureans, emphasized community life and he “regards parrhesia not only as a quality, virtue, or personal attitude, but also as a techne57 comparable both to the art of medicine and to the art of piloting a boat” (Foucault, Fearless 110). There were two types of teaching in Epicurean schools, one that addressed a group of students as in a lecture, and the second in the form of personal interviews, which acted as a sort of “spiritual guide” for the student. There were acts of “mutual confession” with an emphasis on friendship where the focus of these interactions were to improve the souls of all parties where “the Epicurean ideal of fellowship and mutual aid demanded, accordingly, the active participation of friends in the evaluation and correction of one another” (Konstan et.al. 6). This mix of affection, support, and truthfulness underpins the foundation of friendship in the community life of Epicureans, as portrayed by Philodemus. Philodemus expounds upon the value of friends who will be honest and friends with whom one can be honest with, though warns against words that are so harsh that they damage a friendship or cause a loss of affection. Philodemus says that, “although many fine things result from friendship, there is nothing so grand as having one to whom one will say what is in one’s heart and who will listen when one speaks” (45). This type of mutual confession, then, is a practice between friends and one that is positive for both the speaker and the listener, as opposed to a “forced confession” or a coerced state of disclosure. The practice of “being saved by one another” through frank, parrhesiastic dialog is necessary to foster “contentment and goodwill” amongst community members, provided it is not conducted in a contentions, haughty, or disparaging manner (51). Similarly to the ways in which parrhesia and libertas were viewed as necessary to the health of the state, parrhesia in this sense contributes to the good of the community and the growth of the individual. Even when dealing with teachers or other authority figures, “it is necessary to show him his errors forthrightly and speak of his failings publicly” but that to do so as gossip rather than directly is discouraged, for “to act in secret is necessarily most unfriendly, no doubt” (55). In this context, parrhesia is viewed as an integral part of the functioning of a community, which although not state-sanctioned, still operates as a place of central influence in the lives of its members. While the Roman Empire may have operated in a climate that discouraged frank criticism of its own practices, within the Empire itself in these smaller philosophic communities, the practice of parrhesia continued to be upheld as necessary for communal health and sustainability. Plutarch, too, writes of the importance in distinguishing between frankness and flattery within the context of interpersonal relationships. Parrhesia, seen as the middle ground between rude criticism and flattery, is valued in a friend or counselor and “to dare to speak the truth in
57 Craft, technique, or art.
76 such a context represents the genuine fidelity of a friend and is to be prized” (Konstan 94). Plutarch writes extensively on this idea in “How to Discriminate a Flatterer from a Friend” (~100 CE) extolling the virtues of frankness over flattery as necessary criteria for true friendship. In Plutarch’s work, “he assumes that a disinterested relationship may obtain between king and subordinate just as it may between social equals, and nowhere does he draw a distinction between equal and unequal associations. Candor is necessary to intimacy at any level” (Konstan 105). While many read this type of parrhesia as categorically different than political parrhesia, Fields disagrees, showing that “governance and ethics are so closely intertwined…[so that]… flattery poses a danger” in a political climate where power is concentrated in a very few hands (148). Additionally, while Plutarch deals with parrhesia within interpersonal relationships, he is also always focused on power inequality within these relationships, an additional aspect of the political nature of his work (Fields). This close relationship between the private and political is one of the ways in which parrhesia moves across those boundaries, showing how in the articulation of truth what was once a private, or even wholly internal, perspective can intervene in more public, political ways. Predicated on the divine nature of truth as posited by Plato and the importance of knowing one’s self, Plutarch warns against the ills of the flatterer, who preys upon one’s delusions of self-grandeur, versus the parrhesiastic, genuine friend, who will tell the truth even when doing so is unpopular. Though the flatterer can be a very dangerous character, it is difficult to discern between the two categories of people since the “flatterer seems to imitate the pleasantness and agreeableness of the real friend” (355). However, it is also not wise to assume the worst about all people either and “we must not however on that account suspect all who praise as simple flatterers. For friendship requires praise as much as censure on the proper occasion” (355). The flatterer in Plutarch’s work is viewed as dangerous, since “those who injure the character by their praise, aye, and by their flattery undermine the morals…[and]… pervert the disposition, which is the seed of actions, and the character, which is the principle and fountain of life, by attaching to vice names that belong properly only to virtue,” so that the flatterer can upend the moral and ethical values of an individual, and potentially a community, by praising vice as though it were virtue (392-3). The flatterer likewise may imitate free speech, frankness, and outspokenness, knowing that these are the communicative marks of a true friend. Parrhesia, while necessary for true friendship, also depends upon timing so that Plutarch advises against the “great danger in such ill-timed freedom of speech” such as speaking openly when drunk (455). Additionally, “he who uses to a man in adversity too great freedom and severity of speech” may only serve to exacerbate that man’s unfortunate condition, so choosing the kairotic moment in which to speak is imperative when deploying parrhesia within friendship (459). Plutarch discusses optimal times to speak freely to a friend, versus times to avoid it, noting that the goal is to deliver a “rebuke that desires to reform and not to wound” (492). In these ways, Plutarch advises utilizing parrhesia in situations between friends of varying ranks and social classes, and in particular social or interpersonal settings, so that the truth told is beneficial to the hearer rather than detrimental. Similar to the ways in which parrhesia could be viewed as necessary to the functioning of a healthy state by checking or calling out practices that were not sustainable or in the collective best interest, here, too, parrhesia acts as a positive application of potentially risky speech that, when applied skillfully, serves the greater communal good. While certainly contextually different, this use of parrhesia is related to the way it was used in Athenian democracy where a speaker or politician might flatter the crowd in order to win
77 their approval, and parrhesia within friendship retains this idea of frank, truthful speaking within or outside of political contexts. However valuable it may be, parrhesia can also be abused if it is used too harshly or in the wrong conditions, such as chastising a friend too cruelly and/or in the company of others. A quote, often attributed to Democritus, shows the relationship between parrhesia and the context in which it is spoken: “Parrhesia is intrinsic to freedom: the difficulty lies in diagnosing the kairos” (qtd. Konstan 103). The transition from the political to ethical sense of parrhesia was gradual and free speech remained a valued practice in the Hellenistic period, just as parrhesia within social relations existed contemporaneously with the political implications, as demonstrated by the letters of Isocrates discussed in Chapter 2. And, as argued by Fields, this divide between the ethical and political is not as discreet or absolute as some scholars may portray it to be. Instead, parrhesia acts as a measure to check unhealthy or unsustainable behaviors, and when applied in the correct circumstances and at the proper time, can serve to benefit individuals, communities, or the state that embraces it.
Parrhesia, Christianity, and the Changing Nature of Truth Parrhesia, as a word and concept, undergoes changes in the writings of early Christianity from the first century CE (a time period already examined in Plutarch above) until the consolidation of the Church near the end of the fourth century with the conclusions of the Council of Nicea.58 It is here that some of the practices and ideas already examined transmute alongside the changing nature of truth and epistemology in the early Christian era, changes that would affect both the perception of parrhesia and ideas of subjectivity, truth, and rhetoric through the remainder of Western history. Once again, there is no simple meaning or linguistic corollary to the idea of parrhesia, nor does it have a meaning that can be easily pinned down into a static concept. Rather, over the course of the first through fourth centuries, its usage alters with the changing epistemic and social values of the newly forming Christian ideology, which is itself in a near constant state of flux during this same time. These new or revised meanings co-exist alongside older political, social, and philosophical meanings leading to a rich, and at times contradictory, conception of what parrhesia is or might encompass. While the term parrhesia is used multiple times in the New Testament, what it means in that context is related to how those texts came to be verified as valid or orthodox, and as they are offset or compared to that which is deemed heretical. In the New Testament, parrhesia becomes the “courageous attitude of whoever preaches the Gospel. Here, parrhesia is the apostolic virtue par excellence. And here we find again a meaning and use of the word which is fairly close to the classical Greek or Hellenistic conception” (Foucault, Courage 330). In addition to the courageous acts of preaching from a marginalized position, as the early apostles and Christian preachers did within the context of the Roman Empire, parrhesia also becomes the trust and courageousness that some were able to call upon in order to withstand persecution so that “the martyr is the parrhesiast par excellence” (Foucault, Courage 332). In these cases, then, parrhesia
58 This council was called by Emperor Constantine, the first Roman emperor who officially converted to Christianity. Though this conversion certainly aided in the legitimization of the Church, it is doubtful that he was truly a devoted follower. Rather, it is more likely he decided to support the Church for political reasons because he believed it would help to solidify his empire and gain more support for his reign. The Council of Nicea was called by him in 326 CE and charged with solidifying the early canon and particular codified observations and doctrines (See Ehrman or Freeman for a more detailed account.)
78 clearly relates to the ways in which it was used in other parts of the Hellenistic world in the first century CE, as a courageous act of risky speech in the face of danger or possibly death. One way in which parrhesia changes involves the relationship of the individual to the community and the act of truth telling within this context. Foucault connects the practices of self- disclosure and honesty seen in the Epicurean or Stoic communities to the Christian idea of confession where the Greco-Roman idea “has as its goal the establishment of a specific relationship to oneself—a relationship of self-possession and self-sovereignty” and prepares the individual with “the moral equipment that will permit him to fully confront the world in an ethical and rational manner… which is very different from what we find in the Christian tradition” (Fearless 144-5). In Christianity the “rhetoric of confession” becomes fraught with judgment and the potential for damnation, a concept that would have been alien to earlier Hellenistic practitioners of parrhesia. For Foucault, this marks a dramatic shift in the concept of parrhesia that will influence its perception from this point onward in Western thought: The parresia we find after ancient philosophy, in Christianity, where it becomes an obligation to speak of oneself, to tell the truth about oneself, to tell everything about oneself, and to do so in order to be cured. This kind of great mutation from parresia as ‘the privilege of free speech in order to guide others’ to parresia as ‘the obligation of someone who has done wrong to tell everything about himself in order to be saved’ is certainly one of the most important aspects of the history of parrhesiastic practice. (Government 359-60) This dramatic shift in the meaning and practice of parrhesia occurs over four centuries and marks a distinct turning point in the construction of truth and its relationship to power. A central aspect of parrhesia is that it claims to speak from a place of “truth” even when doing so carries risk. How, then, does this practice change when the basis of truth itself shifts upon its axis? To begin to answer this very complex question requires a brief foray into the construction of Christianity as a doctrine, practice, and ideology. This process occurred over the same time span mentioned above, from approximately the end of the first century CE until near the end of the fourth century.59 During this time, categories of orthodoxy and heresy were established— what constituted truth versus what constituted sin, lies, and slander—and the role of parrhesia plays a part within that drama. Bart Ehrman examines the early history of the Church, from the time of the first writings that referred to Christ until the triumph of orthodoxy in the fourth century. This history was neither seamless nor uniform and served to stamp out or marginalize a great diversity of beliefs and practices. Furthermore, “this victorious party rewrote the history of the controversy, making it appear that there had not been much of a conflict at all, claiming that its own views had always been those of the majority of Christians at all times” and that these perspectives had always been considered “orthodox,” that is “right belief” and that other heterodoxical views were always heresy (4). In the battle over orthodoxy and heresy—one largely fought in the realm of discourse and textuality—what was considered truth was hotly contested. Truth, from which the parrhesiastic must speak (at least as he or she understands it) was the very ground upon which these contestations arose.
59 This does not imply that by the end of this timeframe that Christianity was solidified into a uniform ideology or set of practices, but rather that it had been established as a named ideological body of discourse with a formalized Church organization by the end of this period. Disputes and contestations continued through the centuries, arguably into the present day.
79 The means of establishing truth in Christian ideology can likewise be contrasted with the ways in which it was established in the Greco-Roman world prior to this time. Charles Freeman discusses the process by which truth was verified in Greece as one steeped in deductive proof, whereas for Christian thinkers, faith becomes “essentially a declaration of loyalty or a virtue…[and]… involves some kind of acquiescence in what cannot be proved by rational thought…[so that]…the human mind, burdened with Adam’s original sin, is diminished in its ability to think for itself” (5). As time passes through these centuries, the authority of the Roman Empire begins to disintegrate and, after its fall in the fifth century CE, “Christianity now takes on a new role as an agent of social cohesion built out of the ruins of the empire” (306). In this way, the changing nature of truth is embedded in the epistemic fiber of Western thought as it proceeds forward after the fourth century and into the modern era. The idea of faith as constituting access to the truth becomes an integral part of Christianity in its post-consolidation phase. The process by which the concept of faith arose and altered from ancient Greek rhetorical traditions to that of Christianity shows a parallel trajectory to the one examined here on the alterations in concepts of parrhesia. James Kinneavy explores the uses of the word pistis in both the Greek rhetorical tradition and the New Testament where it is translated as “faith” but where it was formerly understood as “persuasion.” Kinneavey discusses the differences in the types of knowing and persuasion discussed by the Greeks and later Christians, including what could and could not be known by men or by gods. In the Greek tradition, though Plato privileged certain knowledge, most schools of philosophy (e.g., Epicureans, Stoics, etc.) focused on probable knowledge. Additionally, the Gnostics likewise reflected this Greek contrast of divine and human knowledge where “knowledge (gnosis) conveyed by their initiation ceremonies was highly superior to the knowledge of the Christians, whose insight was limited to faith (pistis). In fact, the conflict over gnosis and pistis became a major issue in the early Church” (19). Pistis transitioned from meaning persuasion—and for writers such as Plato, a somewhat derogatory term with a low probability of being known— to the faith akin to certainty or “an epistemological state of conviction” seen in the New Testament (20-22). This gradual but related change in meaning is of interest because of the possible mirrored change in the term parrhesia, which existed and altered in the same historic/cultural era as pistis and likewise becomes embedded in the idea of faith, biblically derived truth, and Christian epistemology. Similarly, the split between pistis and gnosis or episteme is likewise foundational to these shifts in ways of knowing or believing, all of which point to a movement from the first century to the fourth away from a privileging or acceptance of relative knowledge to one of certainty, though that “certainty” was founded upon faith (ironically, pistis) in the Christian god as portrayed in the officially approved gospels. This “word” became the basis of “truth” despite its beginnings in uncertainty and persuasion, e.g., the ultimate pistis upon which all arguments became based for centuries. How this shift occurs is of interest to this study, as parrhesia and its relationship to truth undergo a similar transformation during the same time frame and the two words become closely related. Momigliano discusses the ways in which “the Christian Church took over [parrhesia] from Greek and Latin political language and endowed it with a new meaning,” a process that he claims was enacted with several words, much like the discussion of pistis above (262). In the context of the New Testament, parrhesia is enacted “’in the name of Jesus’ [and] is the consequence of conversion…. More particularly, parrhesia becomes the right and the privilege of the martyr and of the saint. These have purchased liberty by martyrdom and sanctification, and have a special right to speak to God” (262). Martyrdom becomes a significant aspect of early
80 proto-orthodox Christianity, and it is demonstrated by the repeated intervention by God that he sees these as pleasing and approves of them (Ehrman 139). It is this context— the willingness to speak out despite the threat of death—that connects some of the acts seen in the New Testament to the classical idea of parrhesia. Ehrman notes several times that for the version of Christianity that became dominant, there was no room for tolerance of other beliefs—there could be only one truth—and this truth is the basis from which the martyrs of the proto-orthodox church spoke. This narrowing of the scope of truth may have made it more likely for the proto-orthodox to claim it as a place of speaking (e.g., parrhesiastic acts in this context) and also perhaps made it less likely to make such a stand from a viewpoint that potentially held other views to be valid, e.g., the Gnostics, who took their truths and their knowing from an internal relationship with the divine, which would—by definition—look slightly different from believer to believer. The so-called Gnostics were a diverse group of experiential spiritual practitioners who flourished alongside of—and arguably as part of—early Christianity. Their writings and practices were diverse, and evidence shows that they were often more willing to grant authority to women (Pagels). They believed in direct knowledge of God, “knowing” divinity in a very personal way, which eventually challenged the move toward orthodoxy, hierarchy, and textual authority of the early Church. Around the year 180 CE, Irenaeus60 composed an influential five- volume work entitled “An Exposure and Refutation of Knowledge (gnosis) Falsely So-Called” that sought to refute the various groups of practitioners that he deemed “gnostics," including but not limited to the followers of Valentinus.61 During the time of Church consolidation around the fourth century CE the term “gnostic” transitioned from a more neutral Greek-derived term that meant “to know or recognize” to become synonymous with heresy. While Irenaeus claimed that these practitioners (or at least some of them) called themselves gnostics, scholars continue to debate about the veracity of that claim or whether or not it is wise to trust claims made by heresiologists, given the particular agenda of their discourse (Williams, King). What has emerged in recent decades of scholarship as the study of “Gnosticism” spread beyond theological debate, is that the practices enacted in the early centuries CE were more diverse, overlapping/divergent, and multivalent than previously thought, making them difficult to classify as a cohesive body of work indicating a common tradition. This is one of several reasons it has been argued that Gnosticism as a category is inappropriate. First, the wide variance of doctrines, practices, and groups that are often uncritically collected under the label defy any attempts at inclusive typography; second, it is also uncertain whether or not groups self-identified as “Gnostics” or whether this was a category invented and named by heresiologists; and finally the term “Gnosticism” was considered derogatory for centuries within the Western tradition (Williams). One way that these complications of doctrinal diversity were resolved was to create a central ideology for the Church focused on Rome as the seat of authority, and to create doctrines and dogmas that limited who was allowed to speak for God in these parrhesiastic exchanges. These resolutions came from “a heightened emphasis both on having a string hierarchy of authority…. And on making certain that only those with proper understanding of the faith be allowed to serve in that capacity” (Ehrman 143). By putting forth the argument of “apostolic
60 Irenaeus is still celebrated by the Church today and is considered a saint for his work in the formation of the early canon and efforts to combat heresy. 61 For a more detailed account of heretical groups as labeled by heresiologists in the early Church, see Williams 34-5.
81 succession” and obedience, people such as Tertullian and Irenaeus countered the Gnostic claims of direct knowledge by making succession and textual justification the ultimate authority on who was allowed to define truth. While direct prophecy was still integral to early Christianity, there was the very difficult problem of who was a legitimate prophet versus who was a heretic and, eventually, “in proto-orthodox circles, it was the written word, the texts of Scripture, that became the ultimate arbiter of theological and practical truth” (Ehrman 151). Truth is rooted in textual authority (which is why which texts are chosen to be this authority is such a central point), the hierarchy of apostolic succession, and obedience to those authorities throughout all branches and levels of the church. This authority, textually manifested in the works that become the New Testament, shows the correct or accepted parrhesiastic relationship with God as represented by the apostles and chosen by the early Church Fathers, as well as the increasing cultural privileging of written discourse. The uses of parrhesia as it had represented up until this point became the only acceptable ways in which God spoke to believers, i.e., through the apostles, who then founded (in Church ideology) the hierarchy of authority from God, to Jesus, to the apostles, and down to the Church Fathers, who were responsible for interpreting and disseminating that authoritative information to all other followers. Any additional prophesies or direct knowledge/interaction with God—such as those discussed and promoted by the Gnostics—were heretical and therefore invalid foundations from which to speak truth. The word parrhesia, or its verb form parrhesiazomai, appear in the New Testament multiple times.62 The verb form is fairly unambiguous—in all instances it translates to speaking freely, boldly, or with confidence, and is generally associated with preaching the word of God. The book of Acts, where parrhesiazomai appears seven times, recounts the works of the apostles as they preached about God in passages such as “And he spake boldly in the name of the Lord Jesus, and disputed against the Grecians: but they went about to slay him” (9:29) or “And he went into the synagogue, and spake boldly for the space of three months, disputing and persuading the things concerning the kingdom of God” (19:8). Several of these passages imply risk associated with speaking, including elusions to contention, being an “ambassador in bonds,” and even possible death. In these cases, then, the meaning is very similar to that used in classical Greek texts where speaking in this manner involves risk to the speaker, and yet, because of a strongly held belief or truth, the rhetor chooses to speak anyway. Parrhesia, used as a noun, is not as unanimously associated with boldness and can also mean clearly, plainly, or without adornment.63 Some instances do imply the bold, risky speech that is often associated with parrhesia, as in this passage from John where “he speaketh boldly, and they say nothing unto him. Do the rulers know indeed that this is the very Christ?” (7:26). One entry is a simple announcement from John: “Then said Jesus unto them plainly, Lazarus is dead” (11:14). Additionally, parrhesia can mean confidence in God, as in “And this is the confidence that we have in him, that, if we ask any thing according to his will, he heareth us” (John 5:14). In these entries of the New Testament, one can already discern a kind of conceptual slippage away from classical meanings toward new conceptions that are in alignment with the emerging Christian ideology of authority, hierarchy, and obedience to a higher will.
62 According to the King James New Greek Lexicon, parrhesia appears thirty-one times, and Parrhesiazomai an additional ten, nine of which are in Acts. 63 See Appendix for a complete listing of New Testament entries.
82 Foucault takes up this ambiguity of meaning in the last segment of his final lecture series,64 in which he sees it as an amplification of the ambiguity already noted in the conceptual history of parrhesia. As outlined above, one meaning still holds the connotations of virtuous courage and boldness that have come to be associated with this term. However, in the New Testament, other meanings and connotations arise where the confidence a believer feels toward God likewise informs his courage toward others (332). Over the next couple of centuries, orthodox Christianity establishes its power and dogma, and the direct relationship to God that sustained the apostles—and continued to inform the experience of the heretical Gnostics— underwent a transformation where This theme of parrhesia-confidence will be replaced by the principle of a trembling obedience…[and]… as a result of this, parrhesia [as] that openness of heart, that relationship of confidence which brought man and God face-to-face, closest to each other, is increasingly in danger of appearing as a sort of arrogance and presumption. (333) According to Foucault, by the fourth century CE, and even more so by the fifth and sixth centuries, parrhesia moved from its meanings of boldness and confidence in God to one of vice and sin. While it may have been acceptable for the original apostles to have directly experienced a relationship with God, with the consolidation of authority and hierarchy, the Church demanded more obedience so that “parrhesia appears incompatible with the severe gaze that one must now focus on one’s self” (334). Early church writers claimed that nothing was worse than parrhesia and that giving one’s self up to parrhesia leads to ruin.65 The results of this ideology became almost antithetical to the use of parrhesia previously seen, and orthodox Christian practitioners are encouraged toward lives of individual practice and asceticism rather than living in community and practicing parrhesia with one another, a state that leads to alienation “and involves mistrust of oneself, fear for one’s salvation, and trembling before God’s will” (335). The climate of obedience, faith, and hierarchical authority undermined the previous meanings of parrhesia in the Christian ideology, since, as Foucault aptly notes, “where there is obedience, there cannot be parrhesia” (336). This transition of parrhesia from one of bold confidence to that of disobedience shows, likewise, the changing nature of truth, how that truth is legitimized, by whom, and for what purpose. The relationship of parrhesia to truth shows not only a transition in the meaning of one word, but also the shifts in epistemology and power throughout these first few centuries CE. As the Church gained power through the next several centuries, biblical parrhesia continued to be a term with which educated practitioners would be confronted, and the ways in which this word was presented in preaching manuals66 reflects the ambivalence, ambiguity, and contradictions of this idea already present by the early centuries CE.
64 Published as The Courage of the Truth. 65 Quotes from Agathon and Dorotheos of Gaza respectively. 66 A nineteenth-century preaching manual by George Winfred Hervey demonstrates some of this ambiguity as this rhetorical guide mentions parrhesia a handful of times, including an entry in the index that lists and defines concepts and examples. He says that “pistis, it would seem, is sometimes nearly synonymous with Parrhesia… Faith greatly contributes to moral courage, and it is indispensible to its exercise, especially that confidence or assurance that Parrhesia, in one of its senses, imports” (40). Hervey also discusses the ways in which the divine spirit gave the gift of freedom or boldness of speech to the apostles, and while he is clearly referring to parrhesia, he
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Parrhesia, Truth, and Ideology Section One has documented the chronology of changes in the meanings, uses, and conceptions of the term parrhesia and shows its trajectory from its earliest forms in the context of Athenian democracy (Chapter 2) through its appropriations and contrasts in the Roman Republic (Chapter 3), and within the Roman Empire amongst philosophical communities, and the writings and doctrines of early Christianity (Chapter 4). Meanings change with usage, so as political, ideological, and epistemic systems altered, so, too, did the nature of parrhesia. As Fields notes in her dissertation, “new meanings of parrhesia point both to older ones and to the points of rupture between these meanings,” and any study of parrhesia must take these changing contexts and uses into account. Parrhesia, initially conceived as a necessary part of a sustainable democracy and imperative for arriving at the most useful truths (as deemed by the community), changed across time and place, both because of changing contexts, as well as because of issues that arose with its practice. As previously noted, there is a type of parrhesia which is akin to babbling, of “saying anything” in an unproductive or unfocused way without apparent purpose, or as Foucault describes it, “This notion of being athuroglossos, or of being athurostomia (one who has a mouth without a door), refers to someone who is an endless babbler, who cannot keep quiet, and is prone to say whatever comes to mind” (Fearless 63). Additionally, there are types of speech, such as slander, liable, or excessive, ill-timed contentiousness that are not spoken from a place of community wellness in mind and which can cause more harm than good. This, too, was addressed in several systems that utilized parrhesia, or its Latin counterpart libertas, with the latter adding licentia to the co-terminology to address this particular type of excess. What can be taken from this complex history is that uses and meanings of parrhesia change over time and that this often occurs because of shifts in levels of authority and power, and whether or not freely speaking is encouraged or suppressed. Despite these transformations, some aspects of parrhesia remain constant and can be put to use in various ways, even as contexts change. Christian ideology may have sought to place confines on the limits of parrhesia to simultaneously address it as a concept (as it existed already in Greek versions of the New Testament) while keeping it within the bounds of Church obedience and authority. However, as
also claims that this way of speaking “did not consist in a fierce, lion-like delivery,” “audacity of manner,” and “did not partake of the nature of personality or anything needlessly offensive” (53). It also, very specifically “did not manifest itself in heterodoxical or irreverent thoughts and expressions” and is assured that “this freespokenness was prompted by the Holy Ghost, so of necessity it communicated nothing but the word of God” (53). Interestingly, in the “Index of Figures,” parrhesia has its own entry, but the description is surprisingly brief and a bit confusing given the usage of the word in other parts of this text. It says simply: “Parrhesia. v. Licentia” (616). This clearly pairs parrhesia with licentia, and under the licentia entry is found: “Licentia (eleutheria, parrhesia) is when the speaker without intending any offence to those whom he ought to respect, reverence, or love, reprehends them with freedom and boldness” (606). It could be argued that grouping parrhesia with libertas in this context might have made logical sense from an indexing perspective, but given that parrhesia has been linked with speaking truth that comes directly from God, pairing it with licentia to define it in the index is somewhat contradictory. It does, however, speak to the problematic nature of parrhesia and its relationship to and with truth, one that is represented in this seemingly small reference.
84 Foucault pointed out, parrhesia and obedience are, at a root level, antithetical, so while this attempt at linguistic contortion may have served to deal with the “problem” of parrhesia within this authoritative hierarchy, its resolution is based within an epistemological stance that values faith—the appropriated pistis—over reason. By re-examining the ideal of parrhesia in contemporary times, we might yet recover some of its power of resistance and disruption in the name of commonly held truth values in service of our various communities and re-place it within the context of stronger democratic practices. While the terminology of parrhesia may have been altered beyond recognition and the word all but forgotten in common vernacular, the practice itself has been deeply embedded within the value system of Western thought, ostensibly since its historic inception. We have long valorized the courageous truth tellers of the past—Pericles, Demosthenes, Cicero, Diogenes, etc. — and continued to tell their stories, passing along these ideals even in the absence of the concept that describes it. By recovering this term and applying it to a rhetorical theory that takes these acts into account, not as the isolated acts of exceptional individuals, but as the ongoing effort of resistance and articulations of truth even amidst oppression, we may yet recognize, acknowledge, and more fully manifest this act within our societies, governments, relationships, and institutions. It is not enough to simply know that parrhesia once existed and was discussed, practiced, and institutionalized alongside democratic practices; rather, we must come to see it as an active, if heretofore largely unnamed concept, alive and well in our everyday world, still seeking to enact change despite risk. By examining parrhesia within a rhetorical theoretical framework, we take steps toward recovering and reinvigorating a concept that continues to be valorized within our epistemic gestalt, and yet has gone largely unrecognized, nameless, and therefore absent. Articulating this concept and theorizing the power of its actions in diverse settings is the first step toward realizing the potential for parrhesiastic action as a valid and necessary aspect of shaping and resisting power, every bit as relevant today as in the time of Pericles.
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Section Two A Rhetorical Theory of Parrhesia
86 Overview
Section One offered a survey of historic uses of parrhesia from when it arose in fourth and fifth centuries BCE in the political context of Athenian democracy, through the Roman Republic, and its eventual suppression as a duty of citizenship in the Roman Empire. Concurrent with the political uses of parrhesia are the more philosophical applications, as evidence in the Platonic dialogues, and later in the philosophic communities of Philodemus and Plutarch. Early Christianity also used parrhesia as a means of speaking about their new, and often controversial religion, but once the Church consolidated the parameters of orthodoxy as embedded in textual authorities and the hierarchy of the Church, parrhesia as a courageous act of risky truth telling was only valid as either a model evident in past prophets, or as speaking the truth as the Church defined it. Additionally, Section One focused on parrhesia in an age where, at least initially, oratory was the primary vehicle for transmitting parrhesiastic messages. Even in the age of Demosthenes or Cicero, however, print worked alongside and concurrent with orality in order to delivery rhetorically constructed messages to wider or different audiences than could be reached by oral delivery methods alone. With the rise of the autocratic Roman Empire, political oratory declined, as the voice of the Emperor came to be the only one that mattered, so that parrhesia becomes more apparent in print-based texts, such as poetry written by Vergil and Lucan, in the philosophic works of Philodemus and Plutarch, or in the early Christian texts that became the New Testament. The ideas about parrhesia contained in these texts would serve as the basis for the understanding and perception of parrhesia for the next many centuries, though possibly because it does not have a direct corollary in Latin or its derivative languages, active discussions about and invocations of the practice of parrhesia are rare after this time outside the context of rhetorical handbooks, works of translated Greek philosophy, and readings of the New Testament that mention parrhesia. As discussed in Section One, language changes alongside and concurrent with transformations in political systems, ideologies, and truth paradigms, reflecting alterations in conceptions, needs, and social practices. Additionally, even in the absence of a particular word, an embedded concept may retain its position as an ideal, something reflected by a culture even without a linguistically succinct way to accurately describe it. This is the case with parrhesia, a word largely hidden and erased from most Western language systems67 for centuries, at least in the common vernacular.68 Building from the work of Quentin Skinner, Dana Fields discusses how perceptions of words change over time and transformation “comes not from the addition of a new meaning, but the application of the current conventional meaning to a new object or
67 This is, of course, not necessarily true for the Greek language itself, which retains the word parrhesia into modern times. It is generally used in more formal or analytic conversations about political discourse, rather than in day-to-day speaking, and its meaning is generally known and regarded as the courage to speak one’s mind freely. 68 As previously noted, parrhesia was still mentioned in preaching manuals, and in rhetorical manuals translated from earlier works, such as Quintilian’s Institutes of Oratory and the anonymous Rhetorica ad Herennium, both of which mention the term briefly. Students of Ancient Greece who read Thucydides, Plato, Demosthenes, etc., would have also come in contact with the term, though again I know of no direct linguistic corollary in other Western languages.
87 circumstance, requiring a change not in word meaning but in ‘social perceptions’… thus new meanings of parrhesia point both to older ones and to the points of rupture between these meanings” (19). Given the changes in the social perceptions and usage of parrhesia across time, place, and context, what might we take from, or how might we use, the possibilities that are historically, conceptually, and ideologically embedded in this term? In the twenty-first century, how might we make parrhesia work for us? Section Two outlines a rhetorical theory of parrhesia that can be used as a framework to analyze the political and social function of parrhesiastic actions so as to more fully understand their effects, purpose, and role in both historic and current moments. By examining past definitions, meanings, and practices of parrhesia within Western culture, and noting the complex intersections of parrhesia and rhetoric throughout that trajectory, a rhetorical theory of parrhesia attempts to contextualize itself within that historical framework and also seek to move beyond its constraints.
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Chapter 5 Tracing Disruption: A Rhetorical Theory of Parrhesia
In this chapter I will examine the conceptual and discursive intersections of parrhesia, historically informed and yet adaptively flexible. Parrhesia, which has existed in both public and private forms, serves as a productive foundation for a rhetorical theory that accounts for the moments when a private individual transgresses conventional power dynamics and social practices to make her message public, and this theory is constructed at the overlap of the private and the public where the former interjects into the latter in disruptive ways. Next, I will discuss how parrhesia works rhetorically by relating the dynamics of parrhesiastic action to more common rhetorical terms of analysis, showing how parrhesia works rhetorically as a unique typology of actions that can be analyzed within this framework. Then, outlining the theory itself, I will explain the methodology that can be applied to multiple situations where parrhesia is enacted, analyzing both the specific situation, as well as the larger context within which it occurs. This methodology allows an analysis that is specific to a certain situation while recognizing the place of any given act within a larger history of resistance. A rhetorical theory of parrhesia seeks to analyze both the individual and the collective, showing how these networked activities work together cumulatively across time and place to disrupt, and ultimately reshape, larger structures of power.
Political/Public versus (Inter)Personal/Private Parrhesia Throughout its conceptual history, parrhesia has traversed boundaries between public and private realms, complicating—or even transgressing—the relationship between the political and personal. Additionally, the role of parrhesia as part of rhetoric within the sphere of public discourse has been historically complicated by contrasting it with the notion of private, interpersonal, and/or philosophical speech, sometimes to the point of viewing these domains as almost wholly separate.69 I assert that rather than viewing the fluid nature of parrhesia across time and place as
69 In his latter works, Foucault famously establishes rhetoric and parrhesia as opposing one another as existing in separate domains. For Foucault, the main distinction between philosophical language—within which he locates parrhesia via an analysis of Socratic/Platonic discourse—and rhetoric is that the latter “is chosen, fashioned, and constructed in such a way as to produce its effect on the other person,” whereas the former “is without embellishment, in its truth, it will be appropriate for what it refers to” (Government 315). Arthur Walzer succinctly critiques Foucault’s conception of rhetoric as existing in opposition to parrhesia and instead offers a more nuanced, complex relationship between the two noting the limited conception that Foucault had of the domain of rhetoric based upon handbooks and critiques by Plato, leading to Walzer’s conclusion that “Foucault’s description of rhetoric, then, is at best incomplete” (7). I would go further by asserting that, even given the specificities of Foucault’s analysis and what comprises a parrhesiastic truth domain, that parrhesia must be situated within the domain of rhetoric and that this is the only site from which it can work to enact parrhesiastic action within post- Enlightenment political and social settings, with their ever-shifting concepts of truth across time and location, as well as the emphasis placed upon ethical action. Rather, I view parrhesia and philosophy as maintaining a kind of “technical partnership,” as Foucault postulates elsewhere (Hermeneutics 373).
89 a hindrance to utilizing this concept as the basis for a rhetorical model, it instead enriches its complexity and possibilities for application. Embedded within parrhesia are notions of truth telling across and within domains of the private and public, of seeking deeply held values and articulating them amidst risk, and doing so for reasons that involve the good of both the self and others. By synthesizing and articulating parrhesiastic action as a particular type of truth telling activity, this work seeks to move this concept linguistically into the present while retaining its historical meanings and applying it to both historic and contemporary events as a conceptual framework. In its first known usage, parrhesia was located within the realm of the political, specifically as part of rhetoric and oratory in the Periclean age. As discussed in Chapter 1, a shift occurs in post-Periclean Athens in the conception of parrhesia from a practice of frank truth telling in the political realm, toward doing the same in a private, philosophical realm, as evidenced in the Platonic dialogs. This alteration did not constitute a polarity or radical change in the use of parrhesia as much as a conceptual shift of the domain of common usage from a more public one to a more private one, and the shift was not complete.70 Throughout the course of history examined here, parrhesia always held the potential for enactment in both the political/public realm as well as the (inter)personal/private one, though even this distinction is not absolute or clear cut. While parrhesia in the political realm has largely been examined here as the purview or right of those in privileged positions of power with the right to speak out frankly (e.g., Pericles, Demosthenes, Cicero, etc.,) it was likewise used by those in less vaulted positions, even when doing so carried risk. For Cynics such as Diogenes, there was no distinction between the public and the private—all of life was lived “out loud” and within public sight, often transgressing both social and legal norms in the name of ethical truth telling. This truth telling takes place from the margins, from a position of exile, offering a model or precedent for parrhesiastic action from outside of authorized discursive methods and within a domain that traverses the public and private, breaking down the barriers between the two. This method of combining public/private forms of parrhesia, where it is enacted to both “care for the self” and others in the community, as well as a publicly performative gesture, has potential in the domain of rhetorical practice for creating opportunities for political resistance across boundaries of private and public. Fields notes that parrhesia was historically enacted either by those coming from a place of power or by those who lived at the margins of society who were largely excluded from privilege, and that the enactment of parrhesia itself could, at times, elevate one’s position. Rather than seeing parrhesia as the privilege of nobility or power, the Cynics conceived it as something that could only be enacted once one has renounced all ties to convention and worldly concerns “because he has nothing left to lose by his frank criticism” (Fields 82). Exile itself becomes a “philosophical badge of honor…[where the]… exile serves as a sign of having exercised properly philosophic frankness toward authority” (82). In this context, then, Cynics and other exiles of the ancient world who utilized parrhesia can serve as a model for intervention into the
70 It could be further argued that the Platonic dialogs themselves were not meant to be wholly “private” either, as they were written, published, and disseminated publicly. However, the dialogs represent, however artificially, the presence of parrhesia in the interpersonal/private realm rather than enacted on the public stage and in the realm of politics proper.
90 public, political realm, even when one is denied an official platform from which to speak, and offers a powerful means of disrupting socio-political norms and practices. It is at this intersection of parrhesia that I focus the construction of this rhetorical theory. While it is true that parrhesia may have the potential to be (re)embedded at the level of institutionalized politics, this is not the level at which “ordinary people” have the opportunity to intervene. A figure such as Cicero provides an historic example of this type of parrhesiastic enactment, where he used his place on the Senate floor to speak out publicly against actions he saw as detrimental to the state, despite risking his life to do so. Though this type of parrhesia still holds the potential for risk and change, it requires an elevated position from which to speak and is inaccessible for most citizens. Additionally, there is likewise a place to examine and make use of parrhesia at the philosophic/interpersonal level as well, as seen in the philosophic communities of figures such as Philodemus or even, arguably, in the Platonic dialogs as enacted by Socrates. While this would likewise be accessible from multiple positionalities, it is not the study I currently have in mind as it separates the private from the political and renders the risks associated with parrhesia to those associated with rejection or the ending of a relationship. Rather, I propose a rhetorical theory of parrhesia at the place where the personal becomes the political, where the private moves into the realm of the public, in a risky act of truth telling, often from the margins of power. This framework is constructed at these intersections and seeks to highlight the ways in which an individual or group can enact disruptive moments of truth telling that intervene within the field of conventional social practice. This movement of parrhesia, from and between the public/political to the private/philosophical and situating of parrhesia within the domain of the rhetorical, offers possibilities for describing and analyzing actions that begin within the realm of the private, but that extend beyond that in the form of political movements of marginalized populations who may have limited access to public forums.
Political Interpersonal Public Private Parrhesia Parrhesia
Figure 2 Venn diagram of domains of political/public parrhesia and interpersonal/private parrhesia
In addition to offering a way of discussing or analyzing these moments, this theory also provides a means of contextualizing the networked effects of parrhesiastic action across time and place, to note the cumulative effects of these efforts of resistance, rather than viewing them as only isolated acts by disparate individuals. For instance, as previously discussed in Chapters Two
91 and Three, Pericles was taken as a model parrhesiastic statesman by Demosthenes, who in turn influenced Cicero’s actions and orations; even today, a quick Google search for “Cicero quotes” turns up artifacts such as the one found below, posted on a Pinterest page71 devoted entirely to quotes by Cicero.
Figure 3 Pinterest graphic of Cicero quote
Even in this simple model, we can see how the parrhesiastic actions and words of one person can “stand out” and be memorable across time and place, holding the potential to inspire or influence other acts of parrhesiastic resistance in the future. While it is impossible to quantify all of the effects from any particular action, this theory keeps those networked effects in mind, connecting individuals—or individual acts—to larger networks of resistance that speak to or from related truth claims. In this way, acts performed by an individual, even if they do not appear to be “effective” in that moment to enact the change called for by the parrhesiastes may, however, create an opening or crack in the field of conventional social practice that allows future actions, either by the same or other rhetors, that can cumulatively alter large-scale power relations over time. Without a rhetorical theory of parrhesia, it becomes nearly impossible to speak of these disruptive acts as a body of related activity, much less recognize the power and potential they hold to shape, change, resist, disrupt, and realign power relations. Without a commonly known word to describe parrhesiastic acts, they cannot be easily articulated or conceptualized as a typology of related events, much less theorized and acknowledged as a specific kind of resistance, one that has a long history in Western culture. Much scholarly and theoretical work has examined the effects of power upon individuals, and while there is no escaping the effects of power upon subject formation, agency, identity, etc., by examining the “other side” of this model we can recognize the effects of resistance in shaping power and may better understand how these dynamics work. This model gives a means to analyze and articulate the cumulative effects of resistance, as well as the potential to better shape, choose, and enact resistive moments as we confront forces of oppression, violence, and domination in our world today. Parrhesia, with its potential to disrupt, can be enacted from non-privileged positions in society, and articulating a theory centered on this concept provides a way of both understanding and advocating the inclusion of marginalized voices. For the perspective of parrhesiastic action, a rhetor does not need to “wait” or “have permission” to speak; rather, the parrhesiastes speaks even when that message is unwanted or prohibited, disrupting the very boundaries and obstacles
71 https://www.pinterest.com/efeathr/cicero-quotes/
92 that seek to suppress that message. Infamously noted for studying the pervasive effects of power inundating and permeating institutions, discourse, and subjectivity itself, Foucault likewise viewed acts of resistance, not as futile, but as urgently necessary, saying: We are not trapped. We cannot jump outside the situation, and there is no point where you are free from all power relations. But you can always change it. So what I’ve said does not mean that we are always trapped, but that we are always free—well, anyway, that there is always the possibility of changing …[R]esistance comes first, and resistance remains superior to the forces of the process; power relations are obliged to change with the resistance. So I think that resistance is the main word, the key word, in this dynamic. (Ethics 167). This idea, that resistance precedes power and creates a force around which power must realign itself, is key to understanding the scope and necessity of a theory that would articulate these forces of resistance and disruption. A rhetorical theory of parrhesia explains what constitutes parrhesiastic action and how these events work to disrupt normative social conventions, pointing out where conventional practice is not in alignment with a community’s (or a society’s) claimed truth values. Additionally, this theory will contextualize these events within a networked, dispersed field of disparate, though related, events, actions, and moments of resistance, showing how the cumulative effects of parrhesiastic action serve to alter social boundaries and power relations over time. As Foucault states, despite the comprehensive permeation of power, acts of resistance carry import as well so that “One must ‘put in play,’ show up, transform and reverse the systems which quietly order us about” (Michel Foucault). A rhetorical theory of parrhesia foregrounds these moments and seeks to theorize and understand them so that their significance might be recognized, and possibly more fully, effectively, or consciously enacted.
Situating Parrhesia within Rhetoric: Terms and Conditions To understand parrhesia within the context of rhetoric, it is useful to think about how it works rhetorically, and to situate it within a constellation of rhetorical terms to see the conceptual relationships between parrhesia and other aspects of rhetoric. By considering the situations in which parrhesia arises, its relationship to audience, how timing and rhetorical appeals are at play in parrhesiastic moments, and how style, delivery, and distribution work in conjunction with parrhesia, the unique rhetorical nature of parrhesia becomes apparent. In these moments, unique rhetorical markers can signify or indicate that parrhesia is at work and offers a lens to understand and analyze these situations. Once positioned and thought about rhetorically, these moments might be more clearly theorized, analyzed, and articulated, and their effects more fully understood.
Rhetorical Situation Particular conditions must be present in order for parrhesia to arise in response to certain kinds of situations where community truth values are not—at least in the opinion of some—being fully enacted or applied and some person or group chooses to speak out about this misalignment between values and practice. To think about these situations rhetorically, parrhesia can be explicated using Bitzer’s notion of the rhetorical situation by examining the exigence, constraints, and audience when acts of parrhesia arise. For example, the exigence for an act of parrhesia will be a situation where conventional social practice does not align with a stated truth value or ideal in the community or society. This discrepancy becomes the “imperfection marked by urgency…a
93 defect, an obstacle…a thing which is other than it should be” which gives rise to the need for the parrhesiastic rhetor to point out this inconsistency and demand some kind of change that will, in her view, move social practice more toward the ideal or stated value (Bitzer 6). This exigence can exist on a range of scales, from a national or international concern that affects millions of people, to small group or community setting, to interpersonal interactions where some community value is violated. The parrhesiastic rhetor uses a violation in mores, values, ethics, or morals as the exigence from which to speak, pointing to those values as the basis and justification for speaking. One major constraint upon the parrhesiatic rhetor is that she must be speaking from a place of less power to some entity that is more powerful, whether that entity is an individual, group, or institution. This power dynamic is essential for an act to be parrhesiastic; the speaker must “speak up” to power in a way that creates risk for the speaker. While other constraints will certainly be present, the disparity in power dynamics is essential in parrhesiastic rhetoric and will be one of the determining factors of this particular type of situation. Without risk, there is no parrhesia, and this constraint is one of the defining limits for parrhesiastic rhetoric. When it arises, it will do so within the confines of power differentials, or rather it will do so across these constraints, where a rhetor will speak even when she is forbidden to and when doing so carries risk. It is by disrupting this limit and crossing these boundaries of power that parrhesiastic rhetoric works to challenge the constraints of power upon the speaker. Audience, too, has a role in creating a parrhesiastic rhetorical situation; in order for the parrhesiastic rhetor to speak to or from a particular truth claim, that “truth” must be embedded within the community as an ideal—for parrhesiastic action to be effective, the “truth” of the rhetor must coincide with the “truth” of the audience.72 This audience will consist of “persons who are capable of being influenced by discourse and of being mediators of change,” thus the importance of audience for parhesiastic actions if they are to work socially to enact change (Bitzer 8). However, parrhesia cannot be based in an attempt to “please” an audience—the parrhesiastic rhetor will speak whether the audience is supportive or not—that is (again) another basis for parrhesia and part of what constitutes risk. While the parrhesiatic rhetor invokes a truth- claim that is ostensibly held by other members of the community, whether those community members are present, or whether they will be willing to transgress conventional boundaries of power to show their support, is unknowable. For an act to be parrhesiastic, the rhetor will speak anyway, even if doing so alienates or inflames the audience present—speaking “truth” in situations of risk defines parrhesia, which makes the relationship with the audience somewhat different than in other rhetorical situations. To illustrate how this works in practice, I will construct a hypothetical event73 in order to show how the rhetorical situation for parrhesiastic action might arise, under what conditions, and
72 Of course, the truth as the rhetor sees it may not be recognized widely, or at all, by the audience in that moment, but could still serve as an example of parrhesia that resonates with different, possibly future audiences. Even some of the historic parrhesiates covered in Section One fit this description, e.g., Demosthenes and Cicero were not heeded in their time and were both executed, but their work continues to have relevance for even contemporary audiences who resonate with their calls against tyranny. 73 I am creating a hypothetical event, rather than referring to an historic one, so that I can alter details to suit the purpose of illustration. In addition, while the parrhesiastes I have examined from the past are all white males, parrhesia as spoken from the margins is ostensibly available to
94 how it might work in relationship to an audience. For the sake of illustration, imagine that there is a gentrification project occurring in a major city, and while this project is supported by the media, business owners, and members of the city council, it is also displacing many of the inhabitants of the inner-city area where renovations—and resultant rent increases—are occurring. A local politician—wealthy, male, well-known, and white—who has spearheaded the renewal project is holding a press conference in a park in this area; news cameras, as well as a crowd of about a hundred people, have gathered to hear what he has to say. While he is speaking to the crowd and the cameras, a Latina woman who lives in the neighborhood steps forward and begins to speak loudly, drawing attention to herself and away from the politician. She accuses him of supporting these measures not for the good of the community as he claims, but because he is a partner in a large real estate development firm that owns many of the properties that are being bought up and renovated at a significant upcharge from the price he and his company originally paid for them. She goes on to talk about how the people of the neighborhood are being kicked out of their homes and have had no say in the renovations, nor have they been consulted about the long term plans for their neighborhood, nor has there been any assistance offered to low income people to move once they are kicked out of their homes. She is angry but clear-headed and well-spoken, and many people in the crowd start to nod and agree with the things she is saying. However, the organizers of the event, attending police officers, and members of the politician’s entourage start to move toward her through the crowd—she sees them, but continues to speak. To illustrate this in terms of the rhetorical situation for parrhesia, I will use this example to show how this works in practice. The exigence for this act is both the larger scale renovation project occurring in this neighborhood, as well as the particular kairotic moment of this press conference where a prominent local politician will already be speaking to a crowd as well as to news sources. Because the truth claims that have been violated from the perspective of the Latina woman are those of fairness, equitability, and inclusion of her and her neighbor’s voices, she speaks to and from these truths when engaging in an act of parrhesia. She is constrained by her positionality in relation to the entities she confronts—she is a Latina woman who lives in a low- income neighborhood and for whom no press conference was planned, so she uses this situation to create a platform for this divergent position about this issue. She speaks “up” to power from her position—a low-income Latina woman speaking out against a wealthy, white politician and the powerful interests he represents—creating risk for herself in order to articulate the violations of these truth claims. She does this, probably hoping that it will alter or influence the course of actions in her neighborhood, but carries out this act regardless of the outcome. Her actions may or may not result in changes in her neighborhood; they also may or may not result in her being arrested, extracted from the crowd, beaten up, or otherwise silenced, and yet she continues to speak.
anyone, though the repercussions of parrhesiastic acts will certainly be affected by cultural biases of race, class, gender, and other factors. In order to illustrate some of the risks of particular positionalities and embodiments, I am choosing a woman of color for my hypothetical situation, as each individual who behaves parrhesiastically will also do so in the face of risks embedded in their given cultural and political environment where certain embodiments may lead to greater or different types of risk. Through the remainder of this chapter, I will refer back to this hypothetical event in order to illustrate the various aspects of parrhesiastic rhetoric I am discussing.
95 The audience, too, plays a part in this parrhesiastic rhetorical situation, though as stated above, the parrhesiastes will speak regardless of the response from that audience. In this case, the audience assembled ostensibly pays heed to the ideals to which this woman speaks, e.g., fairness, equitability, and inclusion, so they will be able to understand or empathize with her views on the topic even if they are the ones against whom she speaks. These ideals, whether they are manifested in social practice or not, are often spoken of as embedded truth claims in Western societies, so by invoking them in her parrhesiastic act, this woman speaks to and from those ideals in ways that are difficult to ignore. In fact, it is possible that many of the audience members, if they live in the area, hold similar views and have had the same conversations amongst themselves, which explains the head-nodding or other forms of agreement that can be seen. At the same time, other members of the assembled audience may have come to this meeting precisely because they support the renovation projects and/or because they have a personal financial stake in the endeavor. These audience members may also be moved by the rhetor’s appeals to community truth claims, but may have competing motivations and values at play as well, such as financial security, safety, and an obligation to represent the interests of institutions with which they have aligned themselves. The reactions of this portion of the audience are unknowable—they may find they have sympathy for the female speaker, or feel surprise because they had not considered that damage might come to people in the neighborhood because of their endeavors, or they may even begin thinking about strategies or compromises that might alleviate the conflict. Conversely, others might feel annoyed by the intrusion, frightened by the disruption and the agreement by some parts of the crowd, or angry because the ethics of their project are being called into question in a very public way—the reaction of the crowd is impossible to predict, but in a parrhesiastic situation, the speaker will speak regardless of the level of support for her position. Additionally, while the crowd may be swayed, or at least sympathetic, when she invokes community truth claims to fairness, equitability, and inclusion, she may lose their support if her actions cross a boundary that then violates other truth values. For instance, members of the audience who have been sympathetic might reject her truth claims if, suddenly, she pulls out a gun and aims it at the politician. While parrhesia always crosses some boundary based in power relations and conventional social practice, by moving the interaction toward a violent and potentially life threatening situation, it will violate other truth claims to values such as safety, respect for life, and taboos against murder, which may undermine the ethos of the speaker as one who speaks for and to truth values. Gerard analyzes the parrhesiastic actions of political prisoners, which he calls “Prisoners of Conscience,” as well as audience responses to the risky actions taken by people who are incarcerated for their political actions and beliefs. Hauser examines a host of actions taken by prisoners of conscience that range in intensity from civil to uncivil, noting how both of these tactics can be a form of indirection where the ostensible audience may not comprise the entire audience the rhetor hopes to reach. In this sense, indirection “is a rhetorical mechanism that takes the audience to the heart of the rhetor’s antagonist, exposes its fraudulence, and in its expression of defiance speaks for the whole community,” though how this works can be accomplished in multiple ways (101). In the example above, the Latina woman speaks out in resistance to the politician and the development firm he represents, but in this moment of defiance, she speaks for her community as a whole, becoming an unexpected spokesperson for their interests. This “rhetoric of ethos” works in a similar manner to the dynamic outlined by Hauser, which calls the audience to a similar manifestation of ethos, invoking the truth claims they hold dear and
96 (hopefully) inspiring them to likewise resist powers they might otherwise yield before without question. Similarly, the Latina woman, in her commitment to staying calm during this confrontation, may have the potential to reach and persuade wider audiences. Hauser discusses how remaining calm in the face of gross injustice works to interrogate and question the capacity of control in a prison system so that “a vernacular of dignity….transforms an everyday practice of social control into a significant moment of resistance” (110). So, too, does the Latina woman invoke the ethos of everyday virtues such as calmness and bravery in her delivery to the politician. Hauser further points out how Martin Luther King Jr. was able to reach and move a large, national audience by “abiding by the norms of civility and decorum” in his nonviolent confrontations (102). By maintaining practices of nonviolence and relative civility, the Latina woman increases the impression of her ethos by those watching the act unfold, as well as potential others who might see or hear about it later. Furthermore, if the politician himself becomes angry or uses his power to try to silence his challenger, this, too, can work in her favor as “one of the more obvious ways indirection functions is to make the antagonist perform in ways that will arouse public ire” (Hauser 101). If the politician orders her arrest, or if the police standing by use excessive force—or even worse, fire shots at her—this, too, may positively influence audience perceptions about her, and by extension, her cause. The relationship with audience also partially explains why some parrhesiastic rhetors are popular with some segments of society and others unpopular, and why some acts that may appear parrhesiastic can alienate an audience and turn public opinion against a rhetor, or an entire group that is represented by that rhetor. For example, while many people may agree with standing up for one’s right to fairness, equitability, and inclusion, and feel sympathy for those whose rights are violated, if violence or destruction become part of that protest, the violation of other truth claims may undermine the credibility of that rhetor or movement. And while an individual parrhesiastes often works “in the moment” with or without the audience’s approval, those who receive the most support and wide spread admiration tend also to be those who do not violate boundaries of violence to other beings or property, as those actions, by violating the truth claims of safety and non violence, serve as a negation for the former truth claims to which the parrhesiastes spoke. This complex relationship between the parrhesiastes and the audience determines the reception of the parrhesiastes herself, as well as the message or movement she represents, and these perceptions can change over time. For instance, in the example above, this woman might be largely ignored or maligned in the current time, but could later become a cultural hero if her story is distributed and garners large scale public support. Again, these outcomes are not predictable in the moment the parrhesiastic action occurs, but rather develop over time and across audiences based upon their perception and ability to identify with (or not) the rhetor involved. The rhetorical situation for a parrhesiastic act has some particular elements that are unique to parrhesiastic rhetoric and help to identify it as such: 1) the exigence will involve the perception of a violated community held truth claim and involve a particular kairotic moment from which the rhetor will challenge the validity or ethicality of this violation doing so from 2) the constraint of a position of lesser power than the entity she challenges in an environment of 3) mixed audience identification with the rhetor which may or may not garner sympathy or support for her position but which will not alter her decision to speak. Imagined visually, the parrhesiastic rhetorical situation might look like this for our example above:
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Figure 4 Diagram of rhetorical position analysis of parrhesiastic situation
When examining parrhesiastic moments with a rhetorical lens, specific criteria will be present that distinguish these acts from other rhetorical situations, marking them as a particular type of rhetorical phenomena that can, and should, be examined as a body of acts with related exigencies, constraints, and audience relationships.
Rhetorical Appeals The classic rhetorical appeals will also play a part in the way that parrhesiastic events are interpreted and received and these appeals, likewise, serve a particular function in parrhesiastic rhetorical action that differs from other types of rhetoric. While there is certainly some overlap between parrhesiastic rhetoric and other forms, there are also specific ways in which the appeals function in parrhesiastic events that should be noted in order to understand how they work, both on the audience assembled and in potentially larger, networked situations where the repercussions of parrhesia may be felt across time and place in ways that other rhetorical actions are not. As mentioned above, kairos plays an principal part in parrhesiastic events, where larger cultural or community events inform the exigence for the arising of parrhesia, as well as a more specific kairotic moment where the rhetor is able to seize an opportunity to speak in a way that creates a disruption in the status quo. As noted in Chapter Two, the parrhesia of the Cynics was likewise related to timing, to interrupting normalized, day-to-day taboos and hierarchies with an “impudent kairos” that called out the inconsistencies and hypocrisies of Greek society (Kennedy 36). Or, as Hunter S. Thomson stated in a rarely seen Apple ad that featured his perspectives on
98 the interactions between power, truth, and language, “Power is truth. Power is the ability to say the right thing at the wrong time.” The kairotic “appeal” of parrhesia may not exactly be “appealing” to its audience. In fact, because it transgresses and crosses ingrained social structures, practices, and hierarchies, it has the ability to be very uncomfortable for an audience, as the speaker is acting “out of turn” or “out of line” from conventional behavior. This idea of impudently seizing the moment, or saying the right thing—where the “right thing” speaks to deeply held truth values—but doing so at an inappropriate time, is indicative of parrhesiastic rhetoric. Timing is key, but unlike other rhetorical situations, the idea is not to use kairos to be more “appealing,” but rather to seize the moment in the service of a pointing out a community value that is being violated. Kairos in this sense means both timing that relates to violations in truth values, as well as the opportunity to appropriate a moment—sometimes by taking it from someone with more power—and using it to articulate a deeply held truth. Ethos is perhaps the strongest appeal that the parrhesiastes holds, and she strengthens her ethos by displaying the courage to speak in a risky situation that transgresses conventional lines of power. As noted by Foucault, the risk taken in order to enact parrhesia in itself helps to construct the ethos of the speaker where that speaker, by the act of speaking, demonstrates virtues of courage and morality. In addition, as noted by Hauser when analyzing political prisoners, the parrhesiastes can become “a potent metonym [where] the prisoner’s body becomes the discursive field that stands for what happens to the body politic as a whole” and this “display of conscience” invokes the ethos of the rhetor as well as “the ethos of the people and the ideals they represent” (120). This powerful chain of ethos invocation can serve to valorize the parrhesiastic rhetor, giving her heroic status when and if her truth claims are strong enough, her ethos convincing, and the risks she faces real and immediate. At the beginning of Book II of Aristotle’s Rhetoric, he establishes the three ways in which ethos works to support the logic of an argument by showing the good character of the speaker. He states “There are three things which inspire confidence in the orator's own character—the three, namely, that induce us to believe a thing apart from any proof of it: good sense [phronesis], good moral character [arête], and goodwill [eunoia],” showing how ethos itself is not one monolithic idea, but rather three different ways character is demonstrated working together for different, but related, purposes (II.1). Eugene Garver relates the three aspects of ethos to the domains of thought, action, and emotion respectively where “the good speaker exhibits all three qualities: phronesis, arête, and eunoia [that while] analytically separable, to possess one fully requires possessing the others” (114). While these aspects of ethos can be examined individually, they coexist in a tightly bound reciprocal relationship with one another that is then mirrored in the relationship between ethos and the other appeals. The different parts of ethos overlap with other appeals so that the appeals cannot exist apart from one another. Eunoia or goodwill is associated with pathos, as the “the speaker establishes eunoia by causing emotions in the audience” and it is through the speakers understanding of emotions that eunoia is established (Garver 110). Phronesis, on the other hand, is related to logos and is potentially even stronger than reasoning alone leading Garver to claim that “reasoning persuades because it is evidence of phronesis and character…reason does not persuade apart from character” (147). Furthermore, Garver asserts that “in both the Ethics and Rhetoric, Aristotle has to show exactly how logos and ethos need each other, how it takes character to reason well and intelligence to pursue good ends,” so that phronesis—commonsense wisdom—and logos need one another and act in a reciprocal manner, both rhetorically and
99 intellectually (184). Arête or virtue is described by Aristotle in Rhetoric74 in particular forms, delineating that “the forms of Virtue are justice, courage, temperance, magnificence, magnanimity, liberality, gentleness, prudence, wisdom” (I.9). These qualities likewise do not function in a vacuum but rather interact in a relationship with social contexts and exigencies so that “virtues do not stay virtues when they no longer have a place in a greater political whole. If their external end is not valued, then the internal end is no longer an end either” (Garver 242). Because of this, virtues such as truthfulness, courage, and wisdom only exist as virtues within a political context—a world devoid of risk or consequence renders these virtues obsolete. In parrhesiastic actions, the ethos of the speaker may be the most powerful appeal, as rhetors embody the truths for which they are speaking, offering themselves as an argument for realignment with strongly held social ideals that are ostensibly shared by the audience. It could be argued that by the very nature of the risk they take, they may somewhat easily establish their virtue or arête with the audience since their conviction in the importance and veracity of the truth they speak is evidenced by their willingness to take the risk to speak it. While this gives their claim a strong ethical appeal, for the parrhesistic rhetor to establish an effective ethos with her audience, which could work to persuade them more fully, she must also establish eunoia and goodwill with them, which will serve to bolster her emotional appeal, as well as phronesis, which will come into effect with her stated or apparent reasoned solution to the untenable situation at hand. In the example given above, the Latina woman can establish ethos with her audience in several different ways, and how successfully she connects to them will influence their reception. In the most obvious sense, her initial interruption of the proceedings to confront the politician shows that she embodies virtues (arête) of justice and courage, while her restraint and refusal to lose her temper shows qualities of temperance, gentleness, and prudence. Additionally, as she spells out her possible solutions (if she is allowed to speak that long), she has the opportunity to demonstrate her liberality and wisdom. By taking a risk to speak for the rights of those in her neighborhood, she helps create goodwill (eunoia) with her audience, as she speaks out not only in her own interest, but in theirs as well. She exhibits practical wisdom (phronesis) by pointing out that the residents of the neighborhood will have nowhere else to live and are not being consulted, which points to the logical reasons why the proposed gentrification plan has not been thought through fully and that there may be other, more tenable solutions that should be considered. In these ways, this parrhesiastes establishes her ethos with the audience assembled, though of course this is not the only audience who will hear her message, which means reception may be mixed. For example, the president of the development firm and stockholders in that company may have a very different interpretation of the ethos of the Latina woman. Instead of courageous or brave, they may read her as a troublemaker and/or may project a host of racial, gendered, or class-based prejudices upon her as a way of invalidating her message. The goodwill she establishes with the neighborhood residents does not automatically extend to the audience of these other stakeholders, who may see her actions as specifically antithetical to “goodwill” of any kind. Furthermore, because the first two ethical criteria have not been met for this particular segment of the audience, they may not view her as having practical wisdom, and instead could
74 While Aristotle gives an overview of virtues and their opposite vices in Rhetoric, for a deeper discussion of how arête works in conjunction with various habits, actions, and formations of character, see his discussion of the Doctrine of the Mean in Books II-V of Nichomachean Ethics.
100 see her as being wholly impractical or naïve to the financial exigencies of the situation, under which circumstances her ideas could be summarily dismissed. Between these two extremes will be those who may identify with her in some way, but who likewise have some identification with the real estate developers; for instance, a local shop owner who has lived in the neighborhood for twenty years may have been promised a new storefront and increased business with the renovations, so while he may identify with the ethos of the speaker on some levels and even respect her courage in speaking up, he may ultimately side with the developers who have promised economic growth. In that situation, I would argue that it is the prioritization of truth claims and the perceived needs that the various competing solutions speak to—with justice, equality, and inclusion on one side, and safety and security needs on the other. In this situation, the shop owner may feel conflicted, as he may value all of the truth claims and needs that form the heart of the controversy. Pathos, which overlaps and is related to the goodwill established between the rhetor and the audience, plays a potentially large part in the ability for parrhesia to sway or move an audience. However, the emotions experienced may range greatly depending upon the level of identification with the parrhesiastic rhetor and can range from full identification to complete rejection. The strong identification with the parrhesiastic rhetor outlined by Hauser, where the audience sees the parrhesiastes as representing the body politic, can invoke similar strong ties between rhetor and audience as described by Kenneth Burke in Rhetoric of Motives. For Burke, identification occurs when two separate entities see themselves as linked enough that their differences become one of detail rather than kind so that “A is not identical with his colleague, B. But insofar as their interests are joined, A is identified with B. Or he may identify himself with B even when their interests are not joined, if he assumes that they are, or is persuaded to believe so” (20). Burke claims that rhetoric is not so much about persuasion as about identification so that “the classical notion of clear persuasive intent is not an accurate fit, for describing the ways in which the members of a group promote social cohesion by acting rhetorically upon themselves and one another” (xiv). If an audience identifies strongly with a rhetor, they will see themselves as a part of the same classification or group with shared interests and values, and “‘Belonging’ in this sense is rhetorical” (28). For a rhetor to move an audience emotionally through identification, she must establish her ethos of goodwill (eunoia) as discussed above. In our hypothetical case, then, the Latina woman will emotionally move those who identify with her and with whom she has already established goodwill by speaking for and from their collective cause. For these audience members, they may be deeply moved, feeling strong levels of identification with the speaker so that they, too, may embody a similar courage and resistance, or at least support her in enacting her own performance of truth telling. For many audience members, an act of parrhesia creates ambivalent emotions, among which may be discomfort, anxiety, distress, shock, surprise, fear, irritation, or anger. Because parrhesia disrupts conventional hierarchies and power relations, to be in proximity of those transgressions can be rather uncomfortable for onlookers, who may be surprised and uncertain about what to do or how to react to a non-normalized set of behaviors. At the same time, because the rhetor speaks to a deeply held truth value that is ostensibly held by at least some members of the community or audience, the actions of the parrhesiastes may also invoke strong feelings of sympathy, support, identification, admiration, inspiration, courage, or outrage at the injustice about which the parrhesiastes speaks. Additionally, some members of the audience who do not identify with the parrhesiastes because they prioritize other truth claims more highly than the ones to which the parrhesiastes speaks may feel outrage at the disruption, anger, impatience,
101 exasperation, condemnation, resentment, rage, or hatred. It is this range of potential emotions that creates both possibility and risk for the parrhesiastic rhetor; while the parrhesiastic act has the potential to deeply move a crowd, which direction that movement turns can range from highly motivational to highly dangerous. The following figure shows the possible range of emotions an audience might have in response to a parrhesiastic act:
Discomfort or surprise at social transgression
Support sympathy Irritation, anger, courage rage, hatred, admiration violence identification
Figure 5 Venn diagram of audience responses to parrhesiastic act
As this image shows, there is a common overlap for this range of emotions to a type of discomfort that most audiences will feel over the transgression of boundaries, regardless of whether they sympathize or identify with the parrhesiastic rhetor. Even in cases of strong support, audience members will likely feel uncomfortable, or at least surprised, because conventional power relations have been transgressed and/or they may feel this discomfort on behalf of the rhetor, e.g., they may be concerned for the person’s safety or the consequences of the actions, or may simply not know how they are “supposed to” respond in this novel situation. Logos, while it may be present in a parrhesiastic event, may be less pronounced than the appeals of kairos, ethos, and pathos already discussed, but will of course be bound up within those appeals as well. The logic or reasoning behind parrhesiastic rhetoric will speak to an argument grounded in the truth claims of the rhetor (which are ostensibly shared by at least some of the community and audience before whom she speaks) showing how current practices are not in alignment with these truths. While audience appeal may not be in the forefront of the mind of the parrhesiastes, if the moment is to have a lasting, positive effect, there must be an element of logos embedded within the acts and reasoning of the parrhesiastes. In our extended example, the rhetor must display phronesis as described above, so that she is able to make her claims in a fashion that indicates she possesses practical wisdom and has thought through the problem. Further linked to her ethos, she must display the quality of honesty in stating her facts—if she is wildly mistaken in any of her claims and the audience is aware of that, her reasoning will not be sufficient and can undermine her entire claim. The enthymemic
102 logic she invokes must have solid grounding and be based in warrants that she shares with her audience. For instance, by pointing out that people are being displaced from their homes, she makes the implicit claim that people should be consulted and considered in a large scale real estate plan that involves their relocation, a logic that is sound and likely to be shared by many in the audience. By pointing out that the politician stands to gain financially by these changes, she reasons that his ethos as a genuine caretaker of the neighborhood and its inhabitants may be unfounded, a claim that the residents might then examine more deeply to validate that he does, in fact, have these financial ties. While the timing of the act, along with the ethos of the speaker and the emotional reaction of the audience may be more immediately influential, the logos of the argument being made will likewise affect the reception and perception of the event, especially over time and potential sites of distribution, recomposition, and circulation. If the speaker makes reasonably argued claims about the problem and/or potential solutions, if these are offered in a clear, logical fashion it becomes more likely that her intervention will be taken seriously over the long term, rather than just create a momentary disturbance that is quickly glossed over with a return to the status quo. In the hypothetical situation described above with the Latina woman and the politician, we can see all of these rhetorical appeals at work. The parrhesiastic rhetor in this scenario seizes a particular kairotic moment to speak, when there is already a press conference occurring and a prominent politician will be speaking about the renovations in the neighborhood. Additionally, from a larger scale of time, this moment that is occurring is one in which her values—and ostensibly those of many of the members of her community—are being violated, so she appropriates the moment in which someone of greater power than herself has arranged to speak.75 By doing this in order to speak to those truths, and by putting herself at risk in doing so, she increases her ethos in the eyes of those who see and hear her. Her courage in the face of a larger, more powerful force in itself helps to validate her claims to speak to and from this truth, as does her position in the neighborhood as one who has the authority to speak out against these unfair actions, precisely because they affect her personally. Because she is someone who is affected negatively by these actions of the politician and those he represents, and because she has courageously chosen to speak out against them despite the danger, her embodied ethos creates a strong appeal for the audience, who may respect her even if they disagree with her position. (Conversely, for audience members who do not identify with her message, her embodied personhood could lead to further rejection, if for instance those audience members come into the situation with particular biases about race, class, or gender. This could potentially lead to greater or different consequences for her, depending upon how these bias are held or act on by those who have greater power in the situation.) Pathos, too, plays a large part in the reaction of the audience, many of whom will feel discomfort or awkwardness simply because conventional social mores and power hierarchies have been transgressed, but who will likely also feel additional strong emotions. The degree of identification with the rhetor will determine whether these emotions are in the realm of the supportive—such as sympathy, inspiration, admiration, or mirrored courage—or whether they will fall in the domain of the negative—such as irritation,
75 Because greater contexts and timing are also at work in this situation, where systemic inequality in the larger society may make events such as this one more likely, the “kairotic moment” could be expanded to take in a wide-scale view of larger social practices and institutions that represent embedded inequalities that fuel related situations.
103 anger, outrage, or even hatred or violence. Similarly, if the rhetor’s message includes logical claims, which in this case might be that the politician himself stands to profit greatly from these renovations, then the overall appeal of the message may be stronger for the audience. Again, it should be stressed that the parrhesiastes will speak regardless of audience support or approval, but as I will discuss in subsequent sections, the strength of the original act and appeals contained therein may greatly influence the power, perception, and reception of a parrhesiastic message over time and across multiple sites of potential reception. While audience response may not be the motivating factor in deciding when, how, or what to speak, if these appeals are present and effective, they hold greater potential for change across time and locations, even after the event itself is over.
Style, Delivery, Distribution, and Circulation Issues of style, delivery, and distribution also affect the ways in which parrhesiastic acts are received and may contain some elements that are distinct to these situations. The way that parrhesia works within and across these three domains makes them highly interrelated where style overlaps delivery, delivery distribution, and distribution circulation, so that these three areas cannot really be spoken of independently from one another. Stylistically, parrhesia is, and historically always has been, delivered in a rather blunt, frank manner that does not necessarily attempt to please an audience so much as it seeks to clearly articulate the truth value central to the issue at hand. Often, the style of a parrhesiastic intervention is abrupt and may even directly interrupt a situation constructed for a wholly different rhetorical purpose, as Cicero did in his Seventh Philippic.76 The style can at times be shocking, surprising, or scandalous, as it was in the case of Diogenes the Cynic. This is not to say that parrhesia and eloquence are opposites, for an outspoken truth claim can surely be delivered in a rhetorically crafted or persuasive manner. In fact, the thesaurus offers synonyms for eloquence that connote a strong, moving tone, words such as affecting, expressive, fervent, forceful, outspoken, passionate, powerful, stirring, vivid, and vocal. Rather, the style of a parrhesiastic action will embody the abrupt forcefulness of the message and will tend to be more direct, blunt, plain spoken, or frank than many other types of rhetorical messages. Oral delivery, too, will likely reflect the blunt and abrupt style of parrhesia so that the delivery itself may be seen as parrhesiastic. Often, parrhesiastic rhetors must deliver their message in an atmosphere of danger or risk, or they may have to seize a moment from another more powerful rhetor in order to deliver their message. Delivery, then, may be surprising, intrusive, or unexpected, either because of its timing, setting, or transgressive message. Delivery may overlap with distribution as the medium through which a parrhesiastic event is enacted affects reception, content, and possible ramifications. While parrhesia in the Classical age was delivered primarily through oratory, as we have already seen in the examples of Pericles,77 Isocrates, Demosthenes, Cicero, and others, while their primary delivery method may have been oral, the reason that we are still able to consider, study, and analyze these acts is precisely
76 This is the work previously cited wherein Cicero used his right of libertas and power to speak on any topic in the Senate to repurpose a situation where the topic at hand pertained to a public works project, and instead of addressing this issue, he used the moment to speak out against Antony. 77 In the case of Pericles, however, it is because his speeches were recorded, however accurately or inaccurately, by Thucydides, which is why Pericles can still be discussed today.
104 because they were also recorded as text. For some of these parrhesiastic orators, such as Demosthenes and Cicero, they made a conscious choice to record, and likely edit, their political speeches into text so that wider audiences could be aware of their positions and so they could overcome “the ephemeral evanescence of orality” (Narducci 441). While classic parrhesia may have been primarily delivered orally, other mediums—such as print and digital—affect delivery and distribution, as well as the potential long-term effects of parrhesiastic actions.78 Distribution, the way that a message is rhetorically presented and consciously disseminated in the world, affects how parrhesiastic actions are perceived. In our example above, the parrhesiastic message was delivered orally, but what if the Latina woman had chosen to create a pamphlet that communicated basically the same message but distributed it to the assembled crowd? This delivery in the medium of print could have still constituted a parrhesiastic action if she in some way seized that kairotic moment to share her message with others, even if she had not spoken out loud with her voice, which would have had a different affect upon the audience that may be difficult to quantify. Potentially, the message delivered in this way may have been less disrupting in the moment, but had the possibility for creating greater impact ongoing, as audience members could have redistributed the pamphlet, shared it with others, or otherwise held onto it for further consideration later. Circulation, on the other hand, refers to the ways in which a text might be recomposed, redistributed, and repurposed by potential multiple composers across a variety of sites.79 In our hypothetical parrhesiastic moment above, the Latina woman—or someone else who comes across these texts online—might decide to edit together footage of the event captured by members of the audience, along with news coverage, still shots of the politician’s office, interviews with people from the neighborhood, or any other recombination of texts that could be deemed as rhetorically effective to making a solid argument against the development. These might be combined into a video and uploaded to YouTube and linked to various social media sites. Or, moving from the complex to the simple, someone could see footage of her interruption and sample a quick sound bite—perhaps a particular sentence that was catchy or well-phrased— and distribute that as a short sound or video sample. Memes could be made, still images captured, and these combined with other forms of media to produce a variety of potentially rhetorically effective texts for circulation. In these ways, delivery, distribution, and circulation have the potential to influence audience reception, not only in the moment of the parrhesiastic event or shortly thereafter, but also across time and place. By recording a parrhesiastic moment originally delivered orally, or by constructing texts containing parrhesiastic messages, either in print or digital form, a parrhesiastic rhetor has the ability to distribute these challenging messages to broader audiences
78 Scholars such as James Porter, Benson McCorkle, Elizabeth Eisenstein, Walter Ong, and others have noted the complicated relationship between delivery, medium, and distribution, and these issues will be taken up in greater detail in Sections Three and Four. 79 The complex relationships between distribution and circulation, especially in digital environments, will be examined in greater detail in Chapter Eight. For further discussions, see Douglas Eyman’s Digital Rhetoric: Ecologies and Economies of Digital Circulation, James Porter’s “Recovering Delivery for Digital Rhetoric,” David M. Sheridan, Jim Ridolfo, and Anthony J. Michel’s The Available Means of Persuasion: Mapping a Theory and Pedagogy of Multimodal Public Rhetoric, and the work of Laurie E. Gries on iconographic tracking and circulation studies.
105 and to have a more lasting impact. In fact, as will be shown in subsequent chapters, the delivery, distribution, and circulation methods utilized can alter the ongoing perceptions of the parrhesiastes or the reception of her message by various audiences over time, allowing the parrhesiastic message to “ripple through” fields of conventional social practice, where it continues to potentially disrupt or challenge power relations. Often, if their messages have been recorded and distributed in some manner, parrhesiastic rhetors may be remembered for a very long time, as the truth values to which they speak remain relevant. For instance, Cicero is still quoted in reference to the importance of a non-centralized, representative government, and Pericles remains relevant as a powerful speaker who upheld democracy. More recent examples of parrhesiastic rhetors—such as Martin Luther King, Mahatma Ghandi, Rosa Parks, Nelson Mandela, and others—continue to be repeatedly quoted, with their words regularly re-distributed through digital mediums, such as memes and websites devoted to quotes by famous people. Regardless of the original method of delivery and distribution, if parrhesiastic rhetoric is then distributed more widely by other means, it has the potential to continue to challenge the status quo, even outside of its original moment of delivery. To return to the example of the Latina woman challenging the politician above, we can see how the elements of style, delivery, distribution, and circulation might operate in conjunction with one another. Stylistically, her tone may be viewed as surprising, frank, or abrupt, which works in conjunction with her oral delivery, which was likewise surprising and disruptive. In her desire to articulate her truth claims of fairness, equitability, and inclusion, she must be willing to deliver her message in this manner, for she may not get another opportunity to do so. Her style, while it may be eloquent, convincing, or moving, is also rather blunt, as she is confronting and accusing a more powerful entity than herself of unethical behavior, and doing so in front of a crowd and in an atmosphere of risk. While her delivery is oral, there are camera crews present who turn toward her as she begins to speak, and while she is recorded, there is no guarantee that this will be on the evening news that night, or if it will slip into the “ephemeral evanescence of orality” and be available only through the memories of those present, where, granted, it still has the ability to influence future actions and attitudes. However, if newspapers report on the interruption, or if the local news station chooses to play this footage on the air that night, her actions have the potential to influence a great deal more people and to cause greater disruption within the field of conventional social practice. Additionally, with the advent of digital technologies and their rapid proliferation, even if no “official” news source picks up this story and distributes it, people in the crowd might record it and upload it to YouTube, write about it on Twitter in real time, or take photographs and distribute them on Facebook. Furthermore, these texts (or others) could be recomposed and circulated in a variety of ways that may either help or hinder the original rhetorical purpose of the event, and over which the Latina woman may have little control. In these ways, delivery, distribution, and circulation methods have the potential to influence wider and more disparate audiences, causing greater disturbances in and challenges to conventional power hierarchies so that the actions of one Latina woman standing up to a powerful politician can move not only the audience assembled, but also potentially millions of people within only a few moments.80
80 These changes in delivery and distribution mediums between oral, print, and digital environments will be taken up on more detail in Sections Three and Four.
106 This potential to disrupt power, not only in the moment but also across time and place, points to the need to theorize these actions as a body of related activities which have potentially cumulative results. Without a concept that ties these acts together, and in the absence of a framework with which to understand and analyze these events, it is difficult to see the capacity they hold to challenge, resist, and reshape power. With a rhetorical theory of parrhesia, we can begin to recognize the ways in which these acts of risky truth telling enable us, even from the margins, to disrupt and challenge convention in service of deeply held values that are ostensibly shared by others in our communities and societies. By theorizing these events as a related body of activity, a rhetorical theory of parrhesia articulates the ways in which power is resisted, interrupted, and ultimately shaped iteratively toward structures that may more fully embody these truth claims. Examining, understanding, and articulating these activities may lead to more fully manifesting them within the realm of social practice for greater numbers of people, and holds the potential to consciously shape the directions in which societies and power structures move in a future that is as yet undetermined.
A Rhetorical Theory of Parrhesia Given the potential power that parrhesiastic actions hold to disrupt and reshape power both historically and contemporaneously, a rhetorical theory that offers a framework of analysis is imperative to understanding these acts and tracing their effects within larger social networks. By noting the unique rhetorical situations and ways in which appeals such as kairos and ethos work when parrhesia is enacted, we can begin to construct a means of analyzing how parrhesia creates disruptions that contribute to larger social changes and realignments of power structures. By situating parrhesia as a rhetorical act, we can likewise foreground the effects of these risky acts of truth telling upon audiences and across multiple modes of delivery and distribution, noting that the ramifications of these acts may not be measurable in the moment of the act itself, but may instead continue to “ripple” through the field of conventional social practice, affecting and influencing multiple audiences across time and place. Additionally, by viewing parrhesia as a concept that overlaps the domains of the private and the public, pushing the former to act within and upon the latter, this framework can help elucidate the ways in which individuals or small groups can create disruptions in larger power structures, even from positions of relative marginalization. Parrhesiastic rhetors make statements speaking from particular truth claims, and parrhesia has long had a relationship to truth, changing in conjunction with the bases upon which truth is predicated in different contexts.81 However, parrhesia has always indicated a kind of risky speech that originates from and within a particular truth domain and speaks to audiences about that truth, pointing to it as the legitimization of the social transgressions enacted in order to speak out boldly. As truth is reimagined and redefined in different historic locations and within different communities, parrhesia, too, can be reimagined based upon the truth claims of various social groupings, which also helps to explain the different perceptions of parrhesiastic rhetors across various audiences, i.e., a rhetor may speak a truth that is highly valued by one audience but violate a different truth claim of a different audience, or may even have mixed reactions from a single audience or from individuals within it.
81 For example, “truth” within the setting of fourth century BCE Athenian democracy may have been imagined differently than “truth” within fifth century CE Christian communities that were faithful to the doctrine of the Church.
107 In contemporary, post-Enlightenment era situations, truth within these moments of parrhesiastic rhetoric would be defined in terms of values deeply held by the rhetor, and ostensibly her community, which might fall under the heading of social ideals. These ideals, discursively constructed and embedded in much of the rhetoric of a particular community, includes concepts of freedom, equality, liberty, justice, etc., which are general enough that they may find ethical appeal to a wide audience, though specifically imagined enough to arouse diversity in application, which makes them the site of contested practice and situates them at the center of rhetorical parrhesiastic action. These social ideals, which stand in for more contemporary notions of “truth,” construct a discursive field at the center of this model, surrounded by a field of conventional practice that includes norms, assumptions, and the heterogeneous behaviors of those who comprise the theoretical community. Parrhesiastic rhetoric “cuts through” this field of conventional practice, connecting to the ethos of the social ideals in the center, disrupting social conventions, norms, and expectations in the process, but pointing to, and speaking from, the deeply held values shared by the community. The exigency to speak arises from the perception held by the parrhesiastic rhetor, who may feel that these ideals are being neglected, misapplied, or remain unarticulated, and the parrhesiastic rhetor may insist that new values emerge, old ones be reimagined, or that practices be altered to be more in alignment with the values the community already claims to hold. It is necessary for both the rhetor and the audience to have some connection to these values or else the parrhesiastic message will have no meaning, no shared truth value within which the rhetor can embed her ethos, and thus give power to the message. The parrhesiastic action, because it disrupts norms within the field of conventional practice, can challenge expectations in a variety of ways, which carry a continuum of risk depending upon the boundaries and limitations for consequences in a given situation. Some audience members may react negatively, resenting the disruption, or disagree with the rhetor’s assessment of how social ideals should manifest within the field of social practice, upon which basis they may display disapproval or hostility. Or, conversely, audience members (potentially even within the same audience with those who disapprove) may see the value in the rhetor’s truth claim and be willing to entertain that conventional practices are not in alignment with these social ideals, and be persuaded to enact change. These rhetorical acts of parrhesia, then, can be viewed as lines of interruption that cut across the field of conventional social practice to connect with the commonly held ideals at the center, seeking to disrupt the status quo, and point out the practices within that field of convention that are not in alignment with those values. Articulating this truth (as the rhetor sees it) carries hope that practices, after the disruption “settles out,” may realign in ways that more closely reflect these values, so that parrhesiastic rhetoric has the potential to both truth tell and persuade. However, these outcomes cannot be the only or primary reason that the rhetor chooses to speak; rather, the parrhesiastic rhetor speaks because it is necessary to do so, because he or she feels compelled by a deeply held belief in the values espoused by that community to the point that speaking is worth the risk it entails, regardless of the outcome. Parrhesia can be viewed simultaneously as an event in itself, as well as the ongoing potential effects of that event within a social field where truth claims or idealized values comprise the center of that field. These are the truths to which the parrhesiastes speaks and which constitute the situation for speaking, as well as the ethos of the speaker that is grounded in those truths and the risk the rhetor is willing to take in order to speak. Imagined graphically, parrhesiastic actions are the disruptions that “cut through” the fields of conventional social
108 practice, creating cracks and fissures in the seamless veneer of power, demonstrating in very real ways where power can be resisted, denounced, or challenged. Red Lines = Parrhesiastic Action
ional nt So ve c n ia o l
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Figure 6 Diagram of parrhesiastic actions disrupting field of social practices
As this diagram shows, parrhesiastic action may come from multiple sources and originate from various sites, either simultaneously or across time. These actions, which serve to disrupt or cut through conventional forms of social practice, may be necessary for marginalized or silenced populations to speak in the first place, since in some cases, to speak at all—or to speak against some forms for power—is so taboo (or even illegal) that doing so initially requires great risk. However, as power is resisted, and as audience members see power resisted, it likewise demonstrates that power is not seamless, absolute, or impossible to challenge. A parrhesiastic fissure can be viewed as forging a transgressive path through and across conventional social practices that others might follow once the parrhesistes (or multiple parrhesiastic rhetors) has already confronted, crossed, and opposed these supposedly insurmountable power structures. When looking at a theoretical field of conventional social practice, multiple cracks and fissures create greater disruptions so that the uniform integrity of that field cannot hold. In this way, parrhesiastic acts, especially when taken together in a networked approach, serve to reform, realign, and transmute systems of power across time and place. Once the territory is breached, others might follow, deploying a range of rhetorical strategies of resistance, some of which might be similarly disruptive or shocking, while others might be more conventional, agreeable, or pleasing to wider audiences. In many cases, though, it
109 will have taken an act, or multiple acts, of parrhesia to initially pave the way for marginalized people to speak and be heard at all. For instance, in the example used earlier in the chapter, the Latina woman who spoke out against the politician/real estate developer may have been acting in that moment to disrupt a particular site for this injustice, but with a rhetorical theory of parrhesia, we could examine not only that specific instance, but possibly other events in different cities where citizens spoke out against developments that did not take their interests or well-being into account. Similarly, if (as postulated earlier) her story and actions are distributed either on television, internet, or other media, other people may be inspired or emboldened to enact similar forms of resistance, such as physically blocking construction equipment from tearing down an existing structure to replace it with a new building endorsed by this development plan. While some are engaged in risky acts of resistance, others might use the kairotic moment to write news editorials or create a blog online to document the activities and grievances of those who are resisting. In this latter case, the act of documenting or commenting may not be itself parrhesiastic and the rhetor may choose from a variety of rhetorical approaches to attempt to persuade a public audience. Nevertheless, it is the space made by the parrhesiastes that will allow this to occur, so in analyzing this ecology of resistance, it is imperative to note and highlight the role that risky acts of standing up to power take within these movements. While each of these acts in itself may not halt the development plan, multiple acts, if enacted with clear truth claims in mind and which do not violate other, equally valued truth claims (e.g., safety, loss of life, etc.) by the audience, may serve to generate enough public support that alternative solutions become necessary and imperative. None of this is a likely outcome from the actions of one isolated individual, but when viewed from a networked approach where related activities—even when they are unplanned or disorganized— may serve to create enough disruptions that systems of power are forced to change their trajectory and reshape themselves around these disruptions.
Problems with Parrhesia As noted in previous chapters, parrhesia, in addition to its long relationship with truth, has likewise accumulated negative uses and connotations along the way as well. These include the possibility of one who “says anything” to speak on and on, or as Foucault describes it, “being athuroglossos, or of being athurostomia (one who has a mouth without a door), [which] refers to someone who is an endless babbler, who cannot keep quiet, and is prone to say whatever comes to mind” (Fearless 63). In analyzing parrhesia rhetorically, this possibility is unlikely to be effective in resisting power in most cases, as audiences often have little patience for mindless babble. While a rhetor may (and sometimes does) babble on and on about an issue, if there is a case of genuine risk for that speaking, it is unlikely that she will do so for an extended period of time, unless doing so is part of the parrhesiastic message or method.82 This is complicated, however, in situations where delivery is not in an oral or “in person” format, as anyone is permitted to say as much as she likes in digital formats—the question arises in how persuasive or appealing this would be to an audience over time and if anyone would listen.
82 It could be argued that this is exactly the tactic taken by Wendy Davis who, in June 2013, stood and spoke for ten solid hours in a successful attempt to filibuster a bill in the Texas senate that would have created sweeping abortion restrictions in the state, so that even within this framework, speaking on and on may have a place in enacting resistance.
110 The more pressing problem, outlined by Foucault, Markovitz, and others, is when a rhetor claims to speak the truth and to do so frankly, but has unethical or wholly self-serving motives in mind. While this may be the case (or at the very least difficult to accurately assess) in speakers who are actively seeking positions of power in the established political system,83 the power differential involved in parrhesiastic acts, where the speaker is at a disadvantage from those she challenges, makes this type of insincere claim to the truth less likely, as a speaker often has to be deeply, personally moved in order to take on the risk involved in parrhesiastic speaking. This willingness to speak in the face of risk strengthens the ethical appeal of the speaker, who demonstrates that her own safety is less valued than the truth she feels compelled to express. The rhetor’s conviction in the importance and veracity of the truth spoken is evidenced by this willingness to take the risk to speak it, and gives her claim a strong ethical appeal that supports her claims to speak from a deeply held truth. While it is impossible to fully eliminate the negative (mis)uses of parrhesia in its pejorative sense, the element of risk taking may limit the likelihood of extraneous or unethical uses. Because of the risk involved for an act to be parrhesiastic, it is less likely that a rhetor would speak on and on gratuitously, or act out in a potentially hazardous way, if she were not sufficiently motivated by a deeply held truth that she felt needed to be articulated despite the risks. Furthermore, the possibility of manipulation discussed in cases of “false parrhesia” (e.g. feigning sincerity) would also be less likely to occur in situations of risk, for a rhetor would need a powerful motivator in order to speak in the face of potential danger. Though of course any rhetor may call upon a commonly held truth claim in order to boost an audience’s impression of the rhetor’s ethos, regardless of the “real” underlying motives, to do so in a parrhesiastic situation where danger is involved makes it less likely for this stance to arise as a false position that would seem to serve no purpose other than to place the rhetor in peril. However, because motivations can never be fully known, the ethicality of any given action needs to be assessed rhetorically, in the particular situation, and in that specific moment, by any given audience that is addressed, or later hears about, the parrhesiastic event. Additionally, the assessment of whether or not what is spoken as truth really is true would again depend upon a dialogic, rhetorical interrogation based upon community standards of verification of such claims within that particular situation, as well as the speaker’s own subjective impression. What a rhetorical theory of parrhesia advocates, then, is not certainty or a verification of claims to truth, but rather a consciousness about these issues in order for the audience or community to interrogate truth claims more thoroughly, as well as greater awareness of rhetors about the truth claims to which they speak. In addition, as rhetorical parrhesia foregrounds ethos, ethics, and ethical practice, this synthesis of rhetoric and parrhesia asks both rhetors and audiences to deeply interrogate motives, social ideals, and truth claims in an ethical light. This interrogation offers a point of analysis that places an emphasis of speaking truth to power from subject positions that may be afforded less access to conventional means of expression, which may therefore lead to a particularly valuable vantage point from which to critique conventional social practices. In short, a rhetorical theory of parrhesia asks both rhetors and audience members to seriously consider the values by which they live in order to reassess and interrogate practices within the social field to evaluate how or if these are in alignment with
83 See Elizabeth Markovitz’s The Politics of Sincerity: Plato, Frank Speech, and Democratic Judgment for a fuller discussion of the dangers of claiming frank truthfulness in contemporary politics as a rhetorical strategy, rather than an actual ethical stance.
111 the values that construct the identity of a community, and to alter those practices when convinced that they are not. While potential problems with parrhesia may arise, and have an historic precedent for arising, by constructing this framework rhetorically, these issues can be interrogated, examined, and analyzed, all with the knowledge that not all audience members may agree, nor do they need to. In fact, the level of agreement upon the ethicality of an event may have more to do with the truth claims spoken to and how deeply a particular audience values those claims, than it has to do with the underlying motives of the rhetor. In creating an analytic methodology with which to evaluate parrhesiastic actions, this theory does not seek to verify truth, but rather to analyze which truths are valued by rhetors and audiences in given situations, and to show how these truth claims do or do not resonate across audiences, times, and places.
Methods and Applications A rhetorical theory of parrhesia can be applied methodologically to a variety of situations where parrhesia is enacted as a means of resisting a more powerful force, person, or institution. Particular criteria and approaches are recommended when examining an event within this framework, as it can help elucidate not only the dynamics of the event itself, but also the potential influences and ramifications of related events in order to more fully understand how these sites work together to create changes at larger social levels. An analysis using this method would focus on both the event and its context, ultimately linking multiple acts and movements of resistance to show a large-scale impression of how resistance has worked in this networked capacity over time and across various places. Parrhesiastic acts are noteworthy for several reasons. First, given the history of parrhesia and its long-term relationship with democracy and rhetoric, it is embedded conceptually within Western epistemic paradigms whether or not the word itself is widely known or used. Throughout this history, figures who are associated with parrhesiastic acts, as people who have resisted and spoken out against unjust power dynamics at great risk to the self, have often been valorized, respected, and used as ongoing sources of inspiration for future people who themselves seek some means of resisting power. The fact that these people and acts continue to have an ongoing relevance in contemporary culture, that parrhesiastes are remembered for their courage, speaks to the importance of parrhesia as an ideal within these societies. Additionally, it is also evident that people through the ages have continued to resist power, even in situations of extreme danger and bodily risk. This history of resistance, of loosely networked parrhesiastic action, has long served to disrupt, challenge, and reshape power in a variety of complex ways, and yet without a comprehensive theory to examine and understand these acts, they remain in a type of isolated limbo where they cannot be analyzed as a body of related events. When they are theorized in conjunction with one another as a genealogy of resistance, rather than an unrelated series of individualized acts, the potential they hold for large scale social change becomes much more apparent. A methodology based upon a rhetorical theory of parrhesia takes both the event and its context into account, showing how the event itself works within a specific situation, as well as its place within an ongoing tradition of resistance. While contextual connections will always be incomplete—there is no beginning nor knowable end to this history—the waves within the field of conventional social practice are acknowledged as well as the sites that are touched, influenced, and reshaped by these forces. Each parrhesiastic act or event marks another connection within an interrelated network of resistance where these fluctuating forces create pushback against power,
112 which, with enough disruption and cumulative opposition, must reshape itself accordingly. It is via these means that “resistance comes first, and resistance remains superior to the forces of the process; power relations are obliged to change with the resistance” (Foucault Ethics 167). Parrhesia, as a deeply embedded concept and form of idealized, valorous behavior through the history of Western culture, is a remarkable, risky, and often ground-breaking practice of resistance within this model, and as such deserves a framework with which to theorize its effects.
The Moment Itself To enact a methodology based upon this approach, specific moments of parrhesiastic action can be analyzed rhetorically. Based upon previous discussion, questions about exigence, audience and constraints can be asked, including the types of truth claims made by the rhetor and what community values or ideals are invoked within a given situation. For parrhesia to be present, a truth must be violated (at least in the view of the rhetor) who will then speak out against this injustice with the constraint of imbalanced power dynamics in place, which creates the risk for speaking inherent in parrhesia. The audience, many of whom may likewise hold the same value but who may see its enactment in a very different manner, will likely find the parrhesiastic delivery intrusive, transgressive, shocking, or otherwise disruptive. Even audience members who agree or sympathize with the rhetor may experience discomfort, simply by the nature of the transgression of conventional practices and taboos concerning power differentials, hierarchy, and who has the right to speak out in particular circumstances. If the rhetor’s truth claim is sufficiently persuasive and incites the audience to likewise demand change to be more in alignment with the value at stake, greater audience involvement is possible, including active resistance, redistribution of the parrhesiastic message, or additional rhetorical work to further the cause of the original speaker. However, the rhetor will initially speak whether or not she is supported by the audience—that, too, is a marker of parrhesiastic action, where the speaker is moved to speak regardless of consequences. Rhetorical appeals are likewise evaluated in parrhesiastic moments, showing their unique manifestation within these acts of resistance. This willingness to speak regardless of outcome marks one of the strongest rhetorical appeals found in parrhesiastic rhetoric, as this courage to speak constitutes a strong ethical appeal to many audience members. By willingly taking on risk, the parrhesiastic rhetor constructs her ethos as a courageous truth teller, making the message more powerful, both despite and because of, transgressions of power, hierarchy, and conventional protocol. Emotional responses to parrhesiastic rhetoric may be varied, depending upon the values shared (or not) by audience members, as well as how strongly the rhetor remains in alignment with other equally important values that are likewise held by the audience. As discussed earlier, some audience members may feel a host of positive emotions indicating sympathy or even inspiration in response to parrhesiastic rhetoric, whereas others, especially those who are in positions of higher power or conventional authority, may feel a range of negative responses, including hatred or anger. Kairos, too, plays a central part in parrhesiastic moments, where the parrhesiastes seizes upon a particular situation in order to deliver a message that might have been otherwise silenced or impossible to voice. Often, parrhesia is disruptive to an occasion and the parrhesiastic rhetor may interrupt the conventional practice of rhetorical access by interjecting a message of resistance into the otherwise seamless flow of hierarchized power dynamics. Additionally, if the rhetor’s message is sufficiently logical and well-reasoned, and if its warrants resonate with the values of the audience, it has the possibility of generating greater support and redistribution.
113 In a methodology based upon a rhetorical theory of parrhesia, a specific type of rhetorical analysis will help to analyze the situation and see the relationships between rhetor, audience, and message. While many of the traditional appeals are at play in parrhesiastic moments, they work together differently than in other types of rhetoric and should be analyzed accordingly. By enacting this type of analysis, it becomes more possible to see what truth claims are at play, the power dynamics being resisted, and the conventional practices being disrupted or challenged. Clarity on the processes at work in these moments also allows for the possibility of more effective disruptions by parrhesiastic rhetors who, once these situations are analyzed, may be better prepared to effectively resist power in these situations of risk.
Parrhesiastic Context Analyzing the networked context of parrhesiastic moments is less exact but no less important to understanding the ways in which parrhesia works to disrupt and reshape power. In fact, it could be argued that the moment itself rarely “succeeds” in changing the way that power is enacted, but taken from a wider, networked approach, the effects of parrhesia become much more significant and noteworthy. A methodology using this framework seeks to contextualize parrhesiastic moments culturally and historically, noting both the social and particular exigencies for parrhesiastic acts, as well as the positionality of the rhetor within wider dynamics of power. Additionally, past influences of resistance upon the rhetor may help to establish a wider context for her actions, which are situated into a larger history of resistance that is interconnected across time and place. The act itself can be viewed as one nodal point within an ongoing network of resistance where every act of parrhesia serves to create a crack in the field of conventional social practice, or to push through the boundaries that keep particular people and populations marginalized. As these fissures accumulate, moving at roughly similar trajectories, they allow for more and more rhetors to resist, speak up, and work to change power dynamics. Of course, as this happens, the acts of speaking out become less risky, so that parrhesiastic events can be seen as the “trailblazing” or initial breeches of convention that create paths for future rhetorical work. By mapping parrhesiastic moments within these networks and tracing the paths of resistance forged by their intrusions upon power, it becomes possible to see resistance—even by an individual who possesses little relative power—not as futile, but as necessary in order for shifts in power to occur. This process, while necessary to understand the full impact of parrhesia and its effects upon social institutions and practices, will by nature be incomplete, as it is impossible to trace or to know the entirety of previous influences upon a given moment, nor is it possible to predict the scope of potential future impacts that one event may have. Because parrhesiastic acts have tended to be valorized and historically passed down through generations, these acts may continue to influence and inspire future potential parrhesiastes, who might seek historical precedents and figures as models of behavior if none are available in the immediate environment. Furthermore, as those parrhesiastic acts create spaces for those with less power to resist and change social practices, future acts of parrhesia may be predicated upon those previous forays and disruptions, creating more space for resistance in future iterations of society. The ramifications of a parrhesiastic act, or the collective acts of one parrhesiastic rhetor, are unknowable as they ripple into the future, where other potential rhetors may become inspired by or use an act as a model, picking up that work again at a distant point. While contextualizing parrhesia and viewing it from within these networked histories is imperative for understanding the scope of parrhesia and its effects on larger social institutions and practices, a methodology based upon this rhetorical
114 theory will, by nature, be incomplete and ongoing. While it is vital to map the points that are possible to ascertain, this tracing will occur with the knowledge of its incomplete, as well as its ongoing, nature. These networks of resistance can be traced at a variety of levels, from the temporally and spatially immediate to the very dispersed and widespread. The level of scale can be determined and chosen by whomever conducts the analysis, while keeping in mind that these networks exist at a variety of levels and always interconnect with both the smallest (e.g., the specific rhetorical situation) and largest (e.g., the entire history of resistance) in both subtle and overt ways. By zooming in or out upon the context of a parrhesiastic moment, it is possible to see the immediate effects of an action, the ripples of cumulative action that are directly related, eventual social changes that occur over time in response to this and related events, as well as the larger scope that situates this entire system within a large, ongoing network that includes all acts of resistance and their interconnected similarities as a body of acts. It is within this framework that a rhetorical theory of parrhesia works to analyze and understand these acts as a collective, loosely coalesced body of events, important for their potential to disrupt and shape power as they work cumulatively and in conjunction, even when doing so is not planned or conscious. In this way, then, large-scale movements can be traced over time, as this theory includes and is not limited by competing interests or factions within movements, nor by disagreement between members, or contradictory methods of enacting truth claims. Rather, a rhetorical theory of parrhesia seeks to understand parrhesiastic acts for their rhetorical value—what they do within a society and how they work to do this—rather than viewing these events as isolated and unrelated acts of individuals. Even when individuals are not working together toward a common or specified goal, parrhesiastic disruptions in conventional fields of social practice that point generally to similar truth claims serve to shake up power dynamics so that, eventually, with enough disruptions, power is compelled to alter its practices in response. A rhetorical theory of parrhesia values both the individual and the collective, the event and its context, as a networked body of activities embedded in the ideals, ideologies, institutions, and practices of Western societies throughout its history. Arguably, the duty to enact parrhesia by participating members of democratic societies—or those that claim to hold democracy as an ideal—has been embedded into the ideology of Western culture since ancient Athens, and is a touchstone value to which we often return. Applying a methodology based upon these principles not only elucidates the essential role that these practices play in shaping our society, but also allows for future possibilities where these acts can be articulated as a body of practices, analyzed for how they work to reshape power, and practiced more effectively in order to bring about change that is more fully in alignment with the values we claim to hold.
Applying the Theory While a rhetorical theory of parrhesia could be applied to a huge array of sites and studies, in the upcoming chapters I will examine both an historic and contemporary case study, looking at both print and digital delivery, respectively, as methods of distribution. In Section Three, my study will focus on the context of the nineteenth century women’s movement, and specifically upon the parrhesiastic rhetor, Matilda Gage (Chapter 7). This site also requires an examination of the ways in which the rise of print culture affected the distribution and delivery of transgressive messages that resisted power, and how these mediums affected the reception and content of the messages distributed (Chapter 6). For a more contemporary study, I will focus on the actions of
115 Edward Snowden (Chapter 9), which occurred within—and arguably could not have occurred without—the affordances and constraints of a digital environment (Chapter 8). As will become apparent within these analyses, there are possibilities and drawbacks to analyzing either past or present parrhesiastic activities. When examining an historic moment, hindsight provides details and the ability to bring into focus connections between complex series of events, though at the same time loses the immediacy or reliability of fully understanding the subtleties of a social order that has long passed. Historically, too, we may have the sense of “seeing the whole picture,” of knowing how the events analyzed “turned out,” and of applying a current sense of virtue or “rightness” to particular actors while vilifying others. On the other hand, analyzing a more current moment allows a deeper knowing of cultural practices and climates, but creates such a close-in focus that details may be overlooked, and ramifications become more difficult to trace. Additionally, contemporary parrhesiastes may be more controversial figures, as are all parrhesiastes in their own time, where valorization is not as unanimous as it might be for a disruptive truth teller who lived in the past but who can no longer inconvenience us by disrupting our current conventions. In each of these cases, I will seek to analyze both specific moments and events, as well as contextualize these within larger social structures, noting the values and “truths” to which these parrhesiastic rhetors speak and act, as well as the exigencies they seek to resist and address. By applying a rhetorical theory of parrhesia as a methodological framework of analysis, these two cases studies will examine both the individual acts of specific parrhesiastes, as well as contextualize them within a larger history of resistance. By doing this, I hope to begin tracing these networks of resistance, showing how ongoing cumulative affects of challenging power work to shape social practices, institutions, and ideologies. Parrhesia, as a deeply embedded concept and practice within Western society, offers a productive conceptual foundation for building this framework and provides a lens of analysis for these powerful acts of resistance, which may occur from the margins, but which eventually work to alter where the margins are set and the boundaries that attempt to check them.
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Section Three: Print Culture and Parrhesia: The Nineteenth Century Women’s Movement and Matilda Gage
117 Overview
In 1852 at the third National Women’s Rights Convention in Syracuse, New York, a woman approached the speaker’s platform, totally unannounced, and took the stage, much to the surprise of all attending. In words connoting the rhetoric of warfare, she warns that her audience should not expect “the concessions demanded by women will be peaceably granted” but rather that “there will be a long moral warfare, before the citadel yields” and encourages women to “take possession of the outposts” in the meantime (National). Despite her lack of expertise in public speaking, and a heart condition that made drawing enough breath for her voice to carry to the back of the hall difficult, her words were so powerful and moving that Lucretia Mott immediately moved that her speech be published as part of the movement literature (Brammer 5). In 1876, this same woman would interrupt the Vice President of the United States during a centennial celebration speech to deliver and distribute a written document calling for the impeachment of the US government for failing to uphold its own Constitution by denying citizenship and rights to women. This scathing political commentary makes the bold claim that the history of freedom in the United States “has been a series of assumptions and usurpations of power over women, in direct opposition to the principles of just government, acknowledged by the United States at its foundation” (Declaration). This shocking disruption—made even more so by the gender of the intruder—publicly criticized America’s legal and taxation system, as well as calling out the audience for its hypocrisy in celebrating “freedom,” by pointing out that not all of its citizens were enfranchised. Matilda Joslyn Gage, a central figure in the nineteenth century women’s movement, was one of the most outspoken, well-educated, and eloquent speakers and writers of her time, working tirelessly alongside women such as Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Susan B. Anthony, with whom she helped author the first volume of The History of Women’s Suffrage, as well as the composition mentioned above, used to disrupt the centennial celebration of America. Her rhetorical and political work, influential as it was during her own lifetime, has been all but forgotten in contemporary discussions of the women’s movement from this time. Gage’s work, in content, style, and delivery embody the spirit of the parrhesiastes, who tells the truth as she sees it regardless of the risks. Additionally, I assert that it is precisely her commitment to these truths throughout her life and her unwillingness to back down from them for political gains and wider approval that directly led to her eventual, and very purposeful, exclusion from the later suffrage movement histories. It should be noted that in both examples cited above, there is an element of both embodied “in the moment” delivery for these parrhesiastic acts as well as a component of print- based distribution that occurs as part of that action. During the nineteenth century, printed resources and materials such as newspapers, books, pamphlets, and the like, proliferated at an unprecedented rate. Given that classical parrhesia was primarily delivered in an oral medium before a live, assembled audience, how, then, does the rise of print culture work with or against these risky acts of truth telling? To reiterate, I do not mean to make hard distinctions between oral and print culture, but rather to make the argument that, in the nineteenth century, the proliferation of printing in America had significant effects upon the distribution and delivery of parrhesiastic messages, which could be dispersed widely amongst a much broader audience than ever before. As previously mentioned, the works from the Classical age I have examined (e.g., Demosthenes, Cicero, etc.) are currently available for examination today precisely because they were also
118 translated into, and distributed as, print versions of the original event. However, this was not their primary method of delivery, nor were print texts as widely available to such a large segment of the population, especially about events that were currently occurring, until the nineteenth century. As I will show in Section Three, the transition to print becomes more pronounced with the advent of the printing press, a trend that continues and amplifies as it moves into the burgeoning print culture of the nineteenth century. While print has been a vehicle for the transmission of parrhesiastic texts since ancient Athens and Rome, the way that parrhesia is transmitted, delivered, and distributed will change alongside technology. The alterations in technology and delivery, taken up in Section Three (and again in Section Four), form the backdrop of this study, as parrhesia does not take place within a vacuum, but rather requires a social network that includes exigencies for action, mediums of delivery, an audience before which parrhesia is enacted, and a means of distributing the parrhesiastic message if it is going to continue to create cultural effects. In Section Three I will argue that the proliferation of both print materials and literacy opportunities for marginalized populations such as women had a significant impact upon the ways in which truth claims could be composed, delivered, distributed, and circulated. Section Three will outline the changes in print materials available in America in the nineteenth century, as well as the alterations in literacy and education that expanded the reading public to include large numbers of women as both consumers and producers of texts (Chapter 6). Then, with this cultural background in mind, I’ll examine the life, works, and acts of Matilda Gage, using the framework of rhetorical parrhesia as a theoretical lens to more fully understand the content and impact of her work within given, specific rhetorical situations (Chapter 7). From this perspective, I will make the connection from these events to the networked effects of her actions, as distributed to wider audiences via the medium of print culture and the communication avenues it afforded. The disruptions created by parrhesiastic actions by actors like Gage create the types of challenges to power that serve to interrupt and alter social norms and institutions. These disruptions, taken cumulatively across time and place and enacted at various sites, eventually worked together to change political and social practices, resulting in outcomes such as the eventual enfranchisement of women in 1920. My argument is that the actions of parrhesiastes like Gage, who must transgress entrenched social norms—and sometimes even legal boundaries—in order to be heard are integral and necessary for marginalized groups to move from their relegated positions of silence to one where their silence is broken and their voices heard, whereupon power is forced to realign in ways that take these voices into account in some manner. This is not to say that changes in social institutions can be made easily, fully, or automatically as long as someone dares to speak up and speak out about their oppression, but rather that taking that transgressive, risky step is necessary if any change at all has the opportunity to occur. By acknowledging the indispensible, and often dangerous, work enacted by female parrhesiastes in the nineteenth century, I hope to show the role of parrhesia within larger movements as a necessary part of enacting shifts in power relations. Because Gage is a little known but contemporaneously influential part of the women’s movement from this time, I choose her as a site for analysis, both to demonstrate the role that parrhesia played in the nineteenth century women’s movement, as well as to recover her work and acknowledge its importance within that movement. It is my hope that by understanding the parrhesiastic acts of the past and the ways in which they were enacted, delivered, and distributed we can not only
119 grasp their historic significance and trace their effects through the past and into our present, but also be able to recognize the role parrhesia plays in helping to shift balances of power so that we might grasp the significance of these actions in the present, and potentially enact them in ways that are more effective, beneficial, and geared toward more purposefully chosen egalitarian outcomes.
120 Chapter 6 Print Culture and Publics: The Rise of Women’s Literacy
As examined in Section One, the affordances of technology and the alterations in ideas of public and private spheres influence the way that parrhesia is practices and conceived. In this chapter, by examining the relationship between oral and print culture, as well as the distinguishing characteristics that make the nineteenth century a unique cultural site with literacy possibilities previously unimagined, I will extend this analysis further to examine the ways that women emerged as a reading public, as well as their expanding access to literacy, rhetorical skills, and the means of producing and disseminating texts. After the classical age, print culture began to rise in the early modern era with the invention of the printing press and the decline of hand-copied manuscripts, changing ideas about rhetorical delivery yet again, or rather these changes arose concurrently from the same cultural forces, institutions, and practices. Situating the technology of copying manuscripts within literacy’s continued relationship to orality during the Middle Ages and Renaissance, Ong points out that “writing served largely to recycle knowledge back to the oral world,” whether from the pulpit or in universities, so that texts, even though copied, were largely read aloud and in social contexts (119). McCorkle, building upon Ong, notes that the advent of print technology served to separate the act of writing even further from the body than handwriting had, thus “fostering the interiorization of language into individual (and silent) reading mentalities,” that became oriented toward consumers and producers of texts (69). These alterations in the ways in which texts were produced and consumed likewise changed the relationship of literacy to orality in complex ways across various cultural sites. Elizabeth Eisenstein focuses on the ways the printing press revolutionized the production and dissemination of texts, as well as the nature of knowledge itself—the way knowledge is conceptualized, validated, arranged, and internalized. Printing technologies affected not only obvious issues such as literacy and trade, but also intellectual and religious cross-pollination, social interactions, and tensions between individualism and standardization. Eisenstein’s argument, like that of McCorkle and Ong, demonstrates that the rise of print culture was not a simple linear progression with easy to describe consequences, but rather a complex, multimodal expansion across multiple sites. In addition to the increase of alphabetic texts, Eisenstein shows how graphics—images, maps, charts, etc.—altered the way that texts were used and understood by readers. Texts that were once the province of a few people—or even one person—could now be preserved not by hiding the text or keeping it from view, but through reproduction and dissemination into the hands of the many. For McCorkle, the printing press was not a “transformative agent,” as suggested by Eisenstein, but rather “a response to the changing demands of late manuscript culture” (74). These demands were reciprocal in nature instead of causal where old and new media technologies imitate one another. Just as literacy reflected back to and recreated practices entrenched in oral culture, so, too, did the printing press mimic and reinforce conventions and practices seen in the medium of hand-copied manuscripts, while also changing the expectations and creating new conventions as printed texts became more numerous and naturalized cultural artifacts. Though the printing press had been around for four hundred years by the nineteenth century, the changes in literacy and the proliferation of print technology make this time period an valuable site for examination. While it might be argued that “print culture” began with the invention of the printing press in the mid-fifteenth century, it was not until the eighteenth, and
121 especially the nineteenth, centuries that printed books began to proliferate in great enough qualities that they were more widely available to the general public which, along with a significant rise in public education and literacy, precipitated a profound increase in the use of printed materials in the lives of many American citizens. McCorkle notes, “it was specifically during the nineteenth century that print achieved its hegemonic status, that the familiar look and feel associated with most works of print became more or less ubiquitous” (92-93).84 The Industrial Revolution brought about new economic conditions for both producing and consuming texts; the materials necessary for print production became cheaper and easier to procure and were therefore more widely available, so that “it was in the nineteenth century, beginning in the early 1800s but more so during the latter half, that the technology of the printing press adapted to increasing demands for printed material, creating a truly hegemonic status for the medium” (McCorkle 97). During this time, rhetoric responded to the status of print technology by including elocution as way of embodying and delivering messages in print, and the elocution movement was a way that spoken delivery and the printed work could interact, though perhaps ironically, instruction about elocution was delivered primarily through print (McCorkle 92, 103). Students in schools were often examined orally, using both their speaking and writing skills together in order to succeed academically and “the audiences for which a student wrote regularly were his own class, his literary society, and the entire college assembled. It was the approval of theses audiences that mattered,” as both reading and writing existed as social practices in these contexts (Bordelon, et al 214). The Industrial Revolution, which made wide-scale printing possible, also had effects upon who was able to practice literacy skills as “pens, ink, and pencils improved significantly, making it possible for people to write with less fuss and mess…paper decreased substantially in cost, making it economically feasible for people to write more” (Bordelon, et al 215). In a culture where more people were literate than ever before, and access to the means of producing written texts more plentiful, the types and kinds of printed materials proliferated. This history of the relationship between oral and print culture is important in order to understand how ideas were produced, delivered, and disseminated between and within these diverse periods of time and how these facts influence the possibilities for the dissemination of parrhesiastic messages. In ancient Athens during the time of Demosthenes, or in the late Roman Republic at the time of Cicero, only those with access to the means of production had the opportunity to write down their orations, disseminate them, and further the work of telling wider publics about their truth claims. With the advent of the printing press, these works could be reproduced—and indeed were—so that they could continue to be disseminated over time. While statesmen such as Demosthenes and Cicero lived at a time when the results of their parrhesiastic actions could sometimes immediately occur, by capturing these orations in print, it became possible to have greater effects upon society, both during their lifetimes and beyond.
84 McCorkle often refers to the hegemony of print, a phrase which indicates not that print itself was used solely as a force of authoritarian control, but rather that print during this time became so wide spread and popularized that it essentially eclipsed the former role of orality as a medium of delivery. While my own views are that orality still clearly held the potential for powerful rhetorical effects (as I will demonstrate later in my analysis of Gage) McCorkle’s observation that the prevalence of print increased in profound and significant ways in this timeframe are duly noted.
122 Nineteenth Print Culture and Literacy: Women as Reading Public The related changes in both technology and literacy led to larger reading publics that included people previously excluded from literacy or wide access to texts, including women and people who were not from the upper-most socioeconomic classes of society. In nineteenth century America, women became prominent consumers of texts, including popular novels and periodicals geared specifically toward women as the primary audience. They also produced texts in unprecedented numbers and writing became a viable career for many women who, for various personal, economic, or philosophical reasons, stepped outside of the bounds of domesticity still imposed upon them in the nineteenth century. The rise of print media in the nineteenth century paved the way for women writers to enter the marketplace with their work, and for that work to be distributed more widely than was ever before possible, which allowed for a degree of commercial success. The "massive growth and expansion… [of the American economy]… made possible and provided the structure for the creation of a national publishing industry" and, for the first time, "changes in the publishing world made it possible for a writer—male or female—to contemplate reaching a national audience" (Kelley Private 6-7). The technological and social changes during the nineteenth century granted more women the opportunity to read and write texts for popular distribution, so that messages they deemed relevant or related to their own interests had a wider potential for mass production than ever before. Changes in literacy and educational opportunities for women in the nineteenth century also led to a larger female reading public than in previous centuries. Though exact statistics are impossible to ascertain due to inconsistencies in collection methods, questioning, and criteria for literacy,85 it is estimated that by the end of the nineteenth century literacy rates had increased to more than 95% for native-born whites, with women and men roughly equivalent in their literacy rates (Kaestle 113) so that “by 1870 women had nearly equaled men in basic literacy” (Hobbs 2). The ramifications for women gaining effective literacy manifested in various ways, not the least of which was “the correlation of higher literacy with lower fertility rates” (Hobbs 6). In the nineteenth century, changes in literacy rates for women and cheaper production of print materials led to greater numbers of female readers and writers. Novels became inexpensive to produce and “women formed a large and increasing part of the novel-reading public. The traditional discrepancy between male and female literacy rates was narrowed, and finally eliminated by the end of the nineteenth century” (Lyons 315). Though novel reading was considered by many to be an unfortunate side effect of women’s literacy, education of children was considered part of women’s domestic duties. For this reason, educating women became necessary though "the argument for women's education centered on their social usefulness as daughters, wives and mothers" (Cott 108). As literacy became a more necessary skill for social and economic success, women's roles as arbiters of "literacy management was one mechanism by means of which middle-class women effected their nation-shaping enterprise and, as essential cultural agents, simultaneously raised their importance to and status within the republic" (Robbins 567-8). This
85 A common tactic for measuring literacy was the “signature test,” especially popular between 1600 and 1850, where those who could sign their own name were considered literate and those who could not were considered illiterate. As Kaestle and others have pointed out, this excluded anyone who could read but not write, a condition that was often promoted by religious leaders since it was vital to be able to read biblical texts for the sake of religious understanding and obedience, while writing was not as important, and might have even been considered dangerous.
123 rise in literacy allowed women to become wider readers and writers of published texts and altered significantly their ability to consume and produce textual artifacts for their own purposes. Catherine Hobbs notes the “double-edged sword” metaphor of literacy where it can, on one hand, be used to control and inculcate ideologies, but where, on the other hand, it can also be utilized to enact social reform. For example, print materials for women often reinforced gendered roles, though at the same time, brought these roles into greater relief so that they could be discussed by the growing reading public of women, especially in clubs designated for this purpose. In the nineteenth century, seminaries and colleges for women developed that coincided with “an ongoing shift from an oratorical to a literary print culture” (Hobbs 13). While the movement away from oratory during this time is noted by Hobbs and others, oratory still held a place in rhetorical training, though women tended to develop different oratory styles than men by the end of the century. Co-educational institutions came into being, as well as many informal sites of education, including literary societies and women’s clubs that arose during this time as well. Hobbs notes a common theme in scholarship about women’s rhetorical and literacy practices in the nineteenth century where greater literacy for women “was at once a social disciplining and a liberating and enabling phenomenon” as women were simultaneously more greatly inculcated into ideals of true womanhood, but at the same time could also imagine themselves as occupying wider spheres of society. The place and practice of rhetoric, as part of the general curriculum of the time, may be seen as a particularly rich cultural site for “ideological confrontations” as women were both given and denied access to rhetorical training (Johnson Gender 10-11). Because of ideological and social pressures for women to conform, obey, be silent, and not speak out publicly, many women had to innovate means of speaking around or through social constraints if they were to find a voice with which to change or expand their collectively limited situations. It seems clear that the types of rhetorical training women actually received in the nineteenth century varied greatly across educational institutions, as well as outside of them,86 and that this training was fraught with contradiction, since although “women were instructed in public rhetoric [by the turn of the century], all lacked the right to vote and therefore were hindered in their access to public forums” (Ricks 65). Though some women would go on to various professional careers, many of these highly educated, rhetorically proficient women were still expected to return to the closed, silent sphere of domestic service once they completed their studies. However, not all went willingly, and “even with the limitations imposed on them by rhetorical and social orthodoxy, they made up a generation of women armed with strategies for joining in the public discourse and making their voices heard” (Wagner 200). Despite pressures, some women did find ways to make openings in public rhetorical spaces despite hostility and disapproval, though many of them had to transgress norms in social practice in order to do so. The expansion of literacy, rhetorical skills, and reading practices changed the relationship that women had to public life in the nineteenth century and situated them in new ways within public debate and institutions. Mary Ryan discusses the differences between the public sphere of Habermas and that found in nineteenth century America, highlighting the ways that these
86 Many researchers of women’s rhetorical education in the nineteenth century have written about the diverse conditions and populations that received training in rhetoric during this time. See scholars such as Jessica Enoch, Cheryl Glenn, Andrea Lunsford, Nan Johnson, David Gold, Catherine Hobbs, Carol Mattingly, and Jaqueline Jones Royster for examinations of the rich histories of women’s composing in the nineteenth century.
124 differences affected the ability of women to enter into the public sphere from which they were barred. Ryan argues that, in America, though women were still officially excluded from public deliberation, “the proliferation of publics—convened around concrete, localized, and sometimes ‘special’ interests—also opened up new political possibilities for women” (269). Because of the distinct separation of public and private based upon gender, women were given authority within some areas of life, namely the home, morality, and educating children. From this position, women were able to come together in order to conduct work that was deemed suitable for women, such as charity organizations, and to lobby for moral solutions in the public realm. Behind a “flimsy screen of privacy” (279) women came together to act in the political realm from the position of moral authority, which eventually led to women joining the abolition movement and agitating for women’s rights. Mary Kelley, while noting the importance of public sphere theories and ideas of multiple publics, prefers to use the term “civil society” to describe the realm in which women exerted the most influence in the nineteenth century. Civil society “includes any and all publics except those dedicated to the organized politics constituted in political parties and elections to local, state, and national office” (Learning 5). It is within this realm, the socio-political if not directly related to electorate politics, that women expanded their influence throughout this time through access to education, literacy practices, and the forming of voluntary associations. Women cultivated their connections within civil society and it is “little wonder, then, that women considered civil society a crucial site. As they knew only too well, civil society was virtually the only public sphere in which women exercised influence” (Learning 113). Reading societies, which were a precursor to the academies and seminaries for women, included reading as a social, rather than an isolated, practice of critical thought, analysis, and expression of opinions, and “in focusing on composition and criticism, members of these literary societies had a tripartite objective – learning to read critically, to write lucidly, and to speak persuasively—all of which contributed to the development of the members’ reasoning and rhetorical faculties” (Learning 118). These skills, and the growing number of women who came together in order to exercise them, contributed to tensions in nineteenth century society about the place of women and other marginalized groups in America that created the space within which women began to come forth and speak out against a host of inequalities.87 Changes in technology, as well as access to literacy and education, worked together to change the relationship of women to the larger public, still steeped in traditional gendered conventions. This complex network of exigencies made it possible for women to form reading and writing counterpublics and disrupt cultural expectations regarding their “place” of domestic privacy in nineteenth century America. One widely utilized space for women to come together to discuss cultural, political, and literary ideas were women’s clubs, which were very popular in the latter part of the nineteenth century with more than two million women involved in the club movement by the turn of the century (Gere 5). Anne Ruggles Gere studies this phenomena and
87 Though this chapter deals primarily with the women’s movement in nineteenth century America, it should be noted that abolition was an equally salient issue for women during this time and comprised an additional exigence for their coming together in order to agitate for greater political power. Jacqueline Bacon’s The Humblest May Stand Forth: Rhetoric, Empowerment, and Abolition offers a fascinating perspective on the relationship between the women’s movement and abolition, especially the affordances and constraints produced by gendered and racial biases of the time.
125 claims that while representations of women’s clubs often elide social, racial, and class differences, her investigation notes that while clubs are often viewed as white, Protestant, and middle-class, groups of marginalized women (Mormons, African Americans, Jewish, working- class, etc.) also formed clubs and “shared the conviction that they were participating in an unprecedented social phenomenon of national significance, that in joining with other ordinary women they accomplished something extraordinary” (3). Gere supports this idea, that “women’s clubs enacted important cultural work” during times of widespread national flux and, using the work of Nancy Fraser, positions women in these clubs “as one of the competing publics at the turn of the century” (3, 13). Additionally, while women’s clubs are often associated with the realm of the private or intimate sphere, women in clubs “used their own reading and writing to explore the contested relationship of literacy and citizenship” in ways that allowed women to position themselves intellectually and socially for movement into wider public spheres of influence (22). The growing public of women in nineteenth century America arose within a context of changing literacy rates, accessibility to print materials, educational opportunities, as well as shifting economic conditions and technological innovations brought about by the Industrial Revolution. As women in the mid to latter part of the nineteenth century began to push for more legal rights in America—including but not limited to the right to vote—they utilized the growing access to print media as a means of distributing their messages across the country to wider reading publics. In her research on women’s suffrage presses, Martha Solomon shows how periodicals worked to create cohesion and connection for the women in the suffrage movement by gaining adherents, providing a sense of community, reaching across dispersed geographic distances, and recording events that could be distributed at times other than when they occurred, allowing wider access to them within the community that these presses created. For women in the nineteenth century, roles were largely defined by the domestic and from a division of identities in the separation of their roles from men and, “somewhat ironically, this shared identity, which was so carefully inculcated in women of the age, in some ways provided the basis for its own rejection” (6). Some difficulties faced by women who sought to organize for suffrage included justifying the right to speak at all and often “women face personal criticism, ridicule, and harassment for their efforts” (12). Additionally, many women were reluctant to acknowledge their oppression within the system, so leaders in the movement had to find rhetorical strategies to raise consciousness and to transform the old idea of the “true woman” into the “new woman,” which “had to evince allegiance to traditional values as she embraced new roles and responsibilities” (Solomon 13). Because of limitations of time, geography, and access, as well as negative representations in mainstream journalistic publications, it was vital for women suffragists to have their own presses and publications in order to disperse information to a variety of audiences. By showing interested readers that they were not alone in their situations, these presses articulated a diverse set of exigencies for inclusion and motives, allowing women the opportunity to communicate with one another in the formation of new identities. During this time, women who sought to change ingrained gender roles and power structures continued to operate under conditions of oppression and inequality, so that speaking out against these institutionalized assumptions remained risky and transgressive. The women who chose to push through these social and political boundaries did so by acting against the grain of social tradition and breaking away from the conventions that held them in a state of silent obedience to patriarchal structures, actions that took the courage to behave in ways that transgressed social boundaries. Within this context of social change, which still emphasized the
126 role of women as subservient domestics, a few outspoken women emerged from the confines of their homes to seriously challenge and resist the hegemonic force of patriarchal confinement. To do this, they had to transgress both social and legal boundaries against women speaking in public, and to use the rhetorical skills they had appropriated, to make a stand, despite the risks. In this context, a rhetorical theory of parrhesia is useful in understanding and analyzing their actions, an analysis I will take up in Chapter 7.
127 Chapter 7 Matilda Gage: A Nineteenth Century Parrhesiastes
It is within the fluctuating cultural and social dynamics at the middle point of the nineteenth century that Matilda Gage emerged as an outspoken thinker, speaker, and writer. In the midst of the print media proliferation, at a significant crossroad between orality and print communication, during a time when presses and publishing houses geared toward female readers and writers abounded, Gage made her move to take the stage at the 1852 National Women’s Rights Convention. She would begin her career of public speaking with a memorable entrance and continue on as an outspoken advocate in the women’s movement for the next several decades until her death in 1898. Gage was born in 1826, the only child of abolitionist parents, and was encouraged by her parents to read, write, participate in all adult discussions, and to question authority at a young age (Wagner). This early support for intellectual curiosity, challenging of socially prescribed roles, and questioning authority may have encouraged the development of her later willingness to openly critique hegemonic power dynamics and her “appalling frankness of speech,” as described by fellow suffragist Lillie Devereux Blake (qtd Wagner Women Public Speakers 279). Gage was active in the women’s movement of the nineteenth century on issues such as abolition, suffrage, Native American rights, the oppression of women by the Church, and legal protection for multiple disenfranchised groups, including workers and prostitutes. Notoriously outspoken as well as a diligent scholar, she was “widely considered one of the most knowledgeable women in the movement,” by her contemporaries (Brammer 2). Despite recognition of her accomplishments as a scholar, writer, orator, publisher, and activist, Gage’s work was excluded from history for the century after her death. Her work, rhetorically savvy and ideologically progressive, still holds great relevance for its contribution to the historical recovery of work of women and its ability to deftly address issues of inequality that are still current in contemporary society. While the nineteenth century women’s movement offers multiple instances of parrhesiastic action relevant to women’s history, rhetoric, and political resistance, Gage herself was particularly outspoken even amongst her peers, a quality which may contribute to the factors of her later exclusion from official histories. Many examples can be cited of women speaking in the face of risk and danger, such as Angela Grimke, Sojourner Truth, Elizabeth Cady Stanton, Ida B. Wells, and of course Matilda Gage. Though treated peripherally in some extant scholarship in the field of rhetoric studies,88 Gage, an outspoken and active contributor to the nineteenth century American women’s movement, is often overlooked by both the public and scholars. Gage, along with Stanton and Anthony, co-authored the first three volumes of The History of Woman Suffrage, held multiple leadership positions in the National Women’s Suffrage Association, and wrote many of the organization’s proclamations, but unlike the other two women, she has been all but forgotten in the history of the women’s movement and the examinations of its rhetorical practices. In fact, it may be the very unconventionality of her work, ideas, and actions that led to her erasure from suffrage history, and it seems that “her radical beliefs, confrontational style, and the danger she posed to patriarchy resulted in her deletion from
88 Gage’s 1890 speech, “The Dangers of the Hour,” is included in Kathryn Kohrs Campbell’s Man Cannot Speak for Her, and a chapter by Sally Roesch Wagner, a Gage historian, is included in Women Public Speakers in the United States, 1800-1925 edited by Campbell.
128 the history of which she was so much a part” (Brammer 119), an erasure that appears to have been consciously contrived by her co-workers in the movement after her death.89 Despite this omission, her work and rhetorical tactics remain relevant today and may offer possibilities for those who seek to critique and challenge oppressive practices in a variety of contexts. By examining her works and actions through a rhetorical theory of parrhesia, it becomes clear that her actions directly challenge entrenched power structures where the act of speaking against—or even about—that structure carries with it some element of risk. Though Gage utilized a variety of effective rhetorical strategies in her speeches to persuade her audience about the rights of women, her strategic deployment of parrhesiastic tactics allowed her to interrupt, disrupt, and openly question conventional power dynamics in ways that would have otherwise been closed to female rhetors of this time. Because parrhesiastic acts carry with them some form of direct social critique as well as danger for the speaker, this examination will focus on two particular rhetorical events: Gage’s initial entrance as a speaker in the nineteenth century women’s movement and the delivery of “The Declaration of Rights of Women” at the 1876 United States centennial celebration. Though, arguably, all of Gage’s writings and public addresses deploy parrhesiastic tactics of social critique, disruption, and risk for the rhetor, these two instances demonstrate these qualities in direct and immediate ways through their delivery, style, and message. In both cases, Gage took considerable risk in a public space, interrupting conventional rules for who is able and allowed to speak, which demonstrates the potential of parrhesiastic action to disrupt norms where the very act itself becomes a critique of these norms and conventions.
Initial Interruptions: Gage and the 1852 National Women’s Rights Convention Already a lifelong abolitionist and supporter of human rights, Gage officially entered the women’s movement in 1852 at the third National Women’s Rights Convention in Syracuse, New York, disrupting the order of these proceedings as her first act as a public rhetor. As the story is told, Gage was not aware of the protocol for scheduled speakers to approach the platform in a particular order, so she waited until she felt courageous enough and approached the podium unannounced, to the surprise of everyone in attendance (Wagner Sky). This act of approaching the stage unannounced and unexpected is itself a parrhesiastic tactic that interrupted the ordered proceedings of the convention and carried with it some risk for Gage, both because of the disruptive nature of her unplanned delivery, as well as the direct questioning of social and legal practices which she then detailed in her speech. This speech, the style of which was reportedly very unlike the others presented at the convention, immediately calls upon “Syracuse [to] sustain her name for radicalism,” launching into an oration that extols the accomplishments of women, despite being “bound by the iron hand of custom which so long as exercised tyrant rule over her.” Invoking words such as “radicalism” and “tyrant rule” within the first few lines of her speech is a parrhesiastic act as well, as Gage did not shy away from the knowledge that what she says is radical within the scope of contemporaneous social norms, nor did she avoid the possibility of offending members of the audience by labeling social conventions as tyrannical. Unlike many other female speakers at the time who felt that they needed to justify their right to speak by citing biblical precedence, Gage
89 For further discussion about the choices made by Stanton, and especially Anthony, see Leila Brammer’s Excluded from Suffrage History: Matilda Joslyn Gage, Nineteenth-Century American Feminist and She Who Holds the Sky by Sally Roesch Wagner.
129 focuses on the idea of “natural right,” the ethicality of which cannot be erased by discrimination or non-use, and this “blunt tone contrasts sharply” with other female orators of the day, such as Mott and Willard (Campbell 340). Many female rhetors of the time justified their right to speak by claiming to carry out the word of God, and they often attempted to adapt their style to be viewed as “suitable for a woman” in order to ameliorate their audiences. However, Gage unapologetically adopts a blunt, straightforward style in her speeches that would have been viewed as more appropriate for male speakers. The style itself becomes a critique in its refusal to adhere to social norms for women speakers who, if they were to speak at all, would be expected to justify their right to do so and adapt their style to fit cultural expectations. In addition to parrhesiastic elements in both delivery and style, the message and content of Gage’s speech also demonstrate parrhesiastic action in the direct questioning of culturally sanctioned institutions, such as marriage, law, the right of the United States government to call itself a republic, and the rights of all people, regardless of gender, to speak and be represented. Gage ties these natural rights to their manifestation in legal institutions, demonstrating in this speech that, if the legal institution of marriage means “the husband and wife are considered as one person in law… [then] … woman could not legally be a man’s inferior … as one half of a person can not be under the protection or direction of the other half.” Gage examines and rejects the (then) current legal practice of marriage where men had the right to “bind or give away any of his children” without the consent of their mother, as well as holding all legal right to the property of his wife upon marriage. Connecting these practices to means of governance, Gage claims that this creates “an Aristocracy, rather than a Republic,” questioning, as she would continue to do, the very constitutional legality of discrimination against women by the United States government. Gage establishes her ethos in this speech in a variety of ways, demonstrating her character and the values she supports, as well as her identification with the audience. Because she is addressing a group of women who have come together in support of women’s rights, Gage shows her goodwill (eunoia) toward the audience by establishing identification with them as one who has likewise been “trammeled as women have been,” though despite this condition, there exist “many shining examples, which serve as beacon lights of what may be attained by genius, labor, energy, and perseverance combined.” Because Gage herself is a woman of this sort, her interests are also the interests of the audience. As she calls for changes in both law and custom, she does so in the name of herself as well as her audience, so her goodwill toward her hearers is unmistakable, as they share common conditions and a common fate. Additionally, she invokes the ethos of others, which serves to show that she is an intelligent, reasonable person (phronesis) and allows her to extol, and take on to some extent, the particular virtues (arête) embodied by these historic others. Her first citations of famous people are the names of two prominent men—Goethe and Sir Isaac Newton—whom she quotes as a basis for “invincible determination” and “patient thinking” respectively. This invocation of ethos shows not only the values she herself stands for, but also demonstrates her own education and access to a broad range of ideas and speakers. Additionally, perhaps because these thinkers are male, she posits the plight of women in terms that go beyond gender and point toward general human aims, a theme she takes up many times in her discussion of natural rights. The next set of historic names she invokes are all female, women of talent, genius, and leadership abilities, who nevertheless had to contend with the conditions and inequalities of patriarchy while they nevertheless pursed careers in the literary arts, science, medicine, mathematics, astronomy, and political leadership. By listing the names and accomplishments of
130 these women, Gage builds her own ethos, as well as pointing out the particular virtues of others. In the entire list, not one woman is praised for her obedience, docility, or physical beauty, but rather they are admired for their intellectual and artistic accomplishments, a set of ethical criteria Gage implicitly prefers to those qualities women are supposedly admired for at the time. While Gage does not specifically use the term “parrhesia” in her speech, she does speak directly to the condition of risk associated with truth telling, and refers to a particular historic instance that, in its original context, is described as parrhesiastic. After her account of accomplished women throughout history, Gage says the following of the trials they undoubtedly faced, and which all women face who dare to speak out against their own oppression: I honor those noble women, who have been willing to pioneer in the path of duty and right, and bear the obloquy which always has, and always will, follow the first promulgation of unaccustomed truths: so suffered the martyrs of old; so suffers Kossuth. Obloquy is said to be a necessary ingredient of all true glory; it might be said to be a necessary concomitant of all great truths. While composing her first speech for public consumption, Gage already recognizes that she will speak “unaccustomed truths” and sees herself, along with a long, historic line of other outspoken women, as another “pioneer in the path of duty and right” who will likely “bear the obloquy”90 which follows the articulation of these truths. In addition to the women she has already praised in her speech, this type of treatment is likewise connected to biblical history and the parrhesiastic prophets—“so suffered the martyrs of old”—who are specifically referred to in terms of parrhesia in the New Testament, as discussed in Chapter Three. Gage not only accepts this type of abuse for speaking out, but sees it as possibly “a necessary ingredient for glory” and potentially “concomitant of all great truths.” This idea of perseverance, determination, and bravery in the face of social rejection of the cause of women’s equality echoes through her speech, serving to establish her ethos as connected to a long line of determined women, as well as moving her audience to continue their advocacy despite social pressure to do otherwise. In addition to establishing herself as an intelligent, well-read, determined speaker with goodwill toward the audience who admires classical virtues such as truthfulness, courage, intelligence, and perseverance, Gage also connects that ethos to pathos appeals to inspire her audience to action. Because she can identify with the plight of women in her time, she can feel and express sympathy for women, even those who do not join in resisting patriarchal customs. She understands that “Woman feels deeply, keenly, her degradation, but is bound by the iron hand of custom which so long has exercised tyrant rule over her.” The anthropomorphization of the forces that oppress women—the “iron hand” of the “tyrant rule”—allows women to viscerally feel the ways in which they have been oppressed, moving them to action against that force, as well as offering empathy for why they may feel so hesitant to do so. Gage goes on to explain why women may not stand up against, or even realize, their own oppression by using the metaphor of tyrannical monarchy, saying, “An ignorant woman is virtually in the same condition as the peasant who thinks it right that a king shall rule over him; and to keep him content, he is made to believe it would be blasphemy and treason in him to call in question this right.” This metaphor likewise serves to persuade women to overthrow the tyrannical monarchy of patriarchal laws and customs, as well as generating sympathy toward women who do not see,
90 Meaning “strong public criticism or verbal abuse” from Latin roots, “ob” (against) “loquy” (speech), thus this choice of wording implies specifically public criticism that occurs against the speech of another.
131 understand, or have the will to resist, their oppression. These appeals work to insight emotional states, as well as further inscribe Gage’s ethos and goodwill toward her audience; not only does she support women who stand up against oppression despite the risks, she also understands the women who are too conditioned or fearful to do likewise. Gage also demonstrates her practical wisdom by providing well-reasoned arguments against the laws and customs that oppress women in nineteenth century America. Her arguments against conventional legal practices that fail to equally protect women are logically set forth and she refutes several popular claims using logic and reason. For example, when discussing the legal state where “After marriage, the husband and wife are considered as one person in law,” she then points out that this is not true, even within the very laws that claim this as their basis. If the husband and wife were legally one person, then “the act of one would be as binding as the acts of the other, and wise legislators would not meet to enact statutes defining the peculiar rights of each.” Furthermore, if they were one person under the law, then “a woman could not legally be a man’s inferior…[since]…one half of a person can not be under the protection or direction of the other half.” Gage points out further inconsistencies with this legal state, including the law (“by Part 2d, Title 3, Sec. 1st, of Vol. 2d, Revised Statutes”) that gives fathers sole rights to their children, so that “Every father has a right to bind, or give away, any of his children, while minors, without the consent, or even knowledge of the mother,” a condition that is nonsensical if husbands and wives are legally “one person” under the law. Gage continues through her speech to give evidence of her character as a reasoned, clear thinker, showing repeatedly the irrationality and hypocrisy of the laws and customs of mid-nineteenth century America and its unjust oppression of women. These claims serve to both refute general arguments against women’s equality, as well as call for logical solutions and actions to further that equality. Gage’s reasoned logos and citation of particular laws—and later Constitutional precedent—is typical of her rhetorical approach in many of the speeches she would deliver throughout her lifetime. In addition to closely reading Gage’s speech for particular appeals and rhetorical tactics, it may be helpful to set this parrhesiastic performance within the model of Bitzer’s rhetorical situation, which as described in Chapter Four, will take on particular characteristics when rhetorical parrhesia is at play. First of all, the exigence for Gage’s first speech was seizing a kairotic moment otherwise set aside for another occasion, which in this case would be the list of scheduled speakers in the 1852 Women’s Rights Convention. Rather than abiding by standard conventions for speakers, Gage “sat near the front and, with a palpitating heart, waited until [she] obtained the courage to go upon the platform—probably to the interference of arrangements” (qtd Wagner Sky 2). The constraints she worked within are largely cultural and based upon the oppressed and marginalized role of women in nineteenth century America. Gage, like other women of her time, had few legal rights—they could not vote, sue anyone in a court of law and, if married, could not hold property. Additionally, crimes such as wife battery, rape, or murdering a woman were rarely tried successfully in court, and while prostitution was illegal, the men who paid for their services were completely within the realm of legality. Gage’s speech speaks to the political constraints that make these inequalities possible, and it is her own limitation of power that compels her to do so.
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Figure 7 Diagram of rhetorical situation of Matilda Gage’s 1852 speech
The audience assembled was likely surprised at her intrusion on the stage, but given the nature of the convention, were supportive and she was “interrupted several times by applause, her addresses drew a great outburst of cheering and clapping at its conclusion” (Wagner Sky 2). Though Susan B. Anthony (also attending her first Women’s Rights Convention) moved that “no woman should be allowed to speak whose voice could not fill the hall,”91 this motion was struck down and instead Gage’s speech was published as part of the movement’s literature. The print publication of Gage’s speech led to additional feedback and distribution to broader audiences, some of which were decidedly not in support of her words. In a notorious public and ongoing argument with a Reverend Sunderland, a local Congressional minister who labeled the entire convention “satanic,” Gage (signing her editorials only as the anonymous “M”) challenged his assertions in a local Syracuse newspaper (Wagner Sky 3). This ongoing contestation lasted for several weeks, with Gage apparently out-arguing the reverend, even in his area of supposed expertise, namely biblical authority. Eventually Gage’s identity, as well as her gender, became known, and she would continue to harshly critique patriarchal readings of the Bible and social inequalities based upon those interpretations for the remainder of her life. In this example, it is possible to see the impact of print media upon Gage’s parrhesiastic messages, as her speech was published and distributed as part of the movement’s literature as a way of further supporting the women’s suffrage movement and engaging supporters from across the country who might not have had the opportunity to hear her arguments otherwise. The prolific print media of the time also allowed for a venue of dissent, where a local churchman could denounce the women of the convention and then engage in public debate with one of its newest and most outspoken members in the weeks following. It is impossible to know the reactions of the readers of this debate, or how many of them supported Gage versus how many agreed with Sunderland, though according to Gage’s biographer, the reading public of Syracuse
91 Gage’s heart condition and lack of public speaking experience made it difficult for the entire hall of 2,000 to hear her words.
133 followed the story “with much delight, especially when they discovered that the person who was running biblical circles around the minister was a woman” (Wagner Sky 4). Regardless of the level of support from the reading audience, which no doubt was mixed and fell along a wide continuum of reactions, the medium of print and its wide distribution allowed wider access for these reading audiences to know about and form opinions based upon these public debates. Gage is aware of the power of print media, as evidenced both in her utilization of this type of editorial debate and also in her particular call to her audience within the text of her speech. Near the end of her speech, when she calls for women to “take possession of the outposts” in the ongoing battle for women’s equality, she points to the sites where women can and should enact change immediately, as they are domains where women already held power and authority. The first site for this is to change the way that children are educated so that they are able to discern “the path of right” as they grow to adulthood. The second call to action specifically focuses on the ability of print publications to distribute the messages of the women’s movement, and Gage urges her audience to interact with this medium through “discussion, newspaper articles, [and] petitions.” By the mid-nineteenth century, Gage’s call to action demonstrates that women already had access to particular avenues of power, which include literacy and print activities. Even though the reforms in law and custom would be gradual—a condition Gage concedes—women should act where they are, i.e. through their children’s educations and their access to print media, not only as consumers, but also as producers of public texts and opinions. The wide and relatively easy access to print distribution indicated by the ending segment of Gage’s speech would not have been possible for women in the centuries preceding, which points to one of the reasons that this sort of wide-scale resistance against patriarchy might not have been possible, ideologically or technologically, before this time. Gage’s awareness of the power of print as an available means for women is apparent in her first public address, and is a distributive tactic that she would claim throughout her career.92 Gage’s blunt style and delivery, as well as her direct critique of hypocrisy and inequality within society, demonstrate parrhesiastic tactics, which interrupt the status quo and provide a strategy for Gage to speak out in a situation where, in the absence of her willingness to take risks and confront possible danger, she might have otherwise remained silent. She does this by calling upon the truth claims of justice, equality, democracy, and freedom, values that both she and her audience commonly hold and upon which—ostensibly—the government and society of which she is a part is based. By invoking these truth claims as the basis of her ethos and establishing her goodwill toward the audience, Gage makes the implicit argument that her transgression of conventional social practices is done in the name of a greater truth, one that is not reliant upon biblical exigency or social convention, but rather rooted in democratic political ideologies that she then demands be more fully practiced by her audience and society. By examining this event through a lens of rhetorical parrhesia, we can situate it within a larger tradition of disruptive acts that serve to question the ability of conventional institutions to fully realize the values upon which they are ostensibly founded, a practice that has both disrupted and promoted democratic social ideas throughout history.
92 Gage was a prolific writer throughout her lifetime, authoring countless newspaper articles, letters, and editorials, as well as encyclopedia entries and books, including Woman, Church, and State (1893), her anti-clerical polemic that sited the Church as a major force in the oppression of women. She was also the editor of the National Citizen and Ballot Box, the official newspaper of the National Women’s Suffrage Association, from the years 1878-1881.
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A Centennial Dissention: The Declaration of Women’s Rights While the social and emotional risks were surely great when Gage addressed the audience at the National Women’s Rights Convention in 1852, her disruption of the 1876 American centennial celebration in Philadelphia carried more significant legal danger. In this case, Gage, Anthony, Stanton, and the other women of the NWSA (of which Gage was president at the time) were denied the right to speak, so the situation required a parrhesiastic intervention in order to deliver their message of resistance to the assembled audience in this venue. In 1876, as America was gearing up to celebrate the hundred-year anniversary of the Declaration of Independence, the women of the NWSA noted that only half of the American citizens had reason to celebrate liberty, as women were yet to be liberated. Though they requested a place on the speaker’s list to voice their critique at the centennial celebration, this request was ignored and denied. Unwilling to remain silent, Gage and Stanton co-authored “The Declaration of Rights of Women,” a document that called for the impeachment of the government for its failure to uphold (female) citizens’ rights.93 The document itself may be viewed as a parrhesiastic act in its direct challenge to the legality and practices of the United States government, and its manner of delivery served the purpose of disrupting and critiquing the idea of “liberty” in a country where half of the citizens were excluded from the right to vote. Though denied the right to speak, a small group of women, including Gage and Anthony,94 were determined to deliver their message nevertheless. As the Vice President of the United States was getting ready to speak, Gage and Anthony approached the platform where “the foreign guests, military officers and guards—taken by surprise—all made way” (Wagner Declaration 34). Once on the platform, they handed Vice President Ferry their scroll with the Declaration written on it,95 while three other members of their group distributed copies to the crowd. Then the women convened on a platform erected for musicians, whereupon Anthony read the Declaration aloud to a crowd that had followed them over, while Gage held an umbrella over her head to shade her from the sweltering July sun (Buhle and Buhle 300). Though not allowed to speak, the NWSA members effectively disrupted the historic celebration, distributed their criticism of the celebration of liberty that excluded half the citizenry, and retired to a nearby venue where they delivered speeches for the rest of the afternoon. In this case, both the document and the delivery can be considered parrhesiastic acts, and unlike either Stanton or Anthony, Gage was instrumental in both authoring and delivering the
93 This document was composed almost thirty years after the “Declaration of [Rights and] Sentiments,” which was composed for the first women’s rights convention in Seneca Falls in 1848. While “The Declaration of Rights of Women” is certainly ideologically aligned with the previous Declaration, it does not directly invoke the language of “The Declaration of Independence” as did the previous document, and instead goes beyond stating the “unalienable rights” of women to calling for an impeachment of the government based upon the violation of half of its citizens’ rights. 94 Stanton and Lucretia Mott refused to attend the event altogether, but the women who were “braver and more determined” in Stanton’s words, chose to deliver their message anyway (qtd Wagner 18). They included Gage and Anthony, as well as Sara Andrews Spencer, Phebe Couzins, and Lillie Devereux Blake. 95 The scroll, framed afterward, now hangs in the Vice-President’s room in the Capital Building in Washington D.C. (Buhle and Buhle 300).
135 Declaration. Interrupting a national celebration to make space for this message directly challenged the authority of a power structure that attempted to silence this message of resistance, and also introduced a persuasive, rhetorical document into the hands of the audience. Therefore, while the speech was not “delivered” in the oratorical sense, it was delivered nonetheless. This delivery carried elements of critique and danger and offers another example of the deployment of parrhesiastic tactics. In the Declaration, it is not the ethos of one person or rhetor that is established, but rather the ethos of all women, and especially those who are advocating for women’s right to vote. They begin by noting their “sorrow” that they “come to strike the one discordant note, on this hundredth anniversary of our country's birth.” They do not relish this interruption, and yet they must enact it in the name of the very values and truth claims that hold the nation together. They attempt to establish goodwill with their audience, though in this case they are addressing a group of people who are not necessarily sympathetic to their cause, and are also likely to be upset or annoyed about the disruption of the proceedings. However, the women of the NWSA position themselves as Americans who are proud of their country and its ethos, asking: May not our hearts, in unison with all, swell with pride at our great achievements as a people; our free speech, free press, free schools, free church, and the rapid progress we have made in material wealth, trade, commerce, and the inventive arts? And we do rejoice, in the success thus far, of our experiment of self-government. Our faith is firm and unwavering in the broad principles of human rights, proclaimed in 1776, not only as abstract truths, but as the corner stones of a republic. This invocation at the beginning of the Declaration serves to connect the disruptive deliverers of the document with the ethos upon which the country is founded, which at once identifies the women with that ethos, and also calls the ethos of the country into question, which the document does in the very next sentence: Yet, we cannot forget, even in this glad hour, that while all men of every race, and clime, and condition, have been invested with the full rights of citizenship, under our hospitable flag, all women still suffer the degradation of disfranchisement. The history of our country the past hundred years, has been a series of assumptions and usurpations of power over woman, in direct opposition to the principles of just government, acknowledged by the United States at its foundation. First, the women of the NWSA connect with their audience through their ethos as proud Americans, a sentiment with which much of the audience would identify, and laid their foundation of goodwill. Here, though, by pointing out the discrepancies and hypocrisies of the American government in its treatment of women, they set themselves apart, demonstrating a superior virtue (arête) in their construction of ethos. Then, by the organized, logical reasoning that follows, they establish themselves as clear- thinking and possessing practical wisdom, which works to ground their logical claims that serve to demand change in an unjust system. Having first established their identification with the American government and also the audience, the women then differentiate their ethos from that, showing where it is superior, and then offer the following list, based upon the foundational tenants of the just government formerly mentioned: First. The natural rights of each individual. Second. The exact equality of these rights. Third. That these rights, when not delegated by the individual, are retained by the individual.
136 Fourth. That no person can exercise the rights of others without delegated authority. Fifth. That the non-use of these rights does not destroy them.96 Because of the violations enacted by the US government against women, the Declaration then seeks to impeach the government based upon its failure to uphold its own Constitution, which guarantees the rights of all citizens. The document notes that individual states have added the word “male” to their own constitutions while the federal Constitution does not stipulate that, and instead uses the generalized term “men” to apply to all citizens. It is claimed that this addition of sex discrimination into state constitutions is a usurping of the power of the federal government and establishes an “aristocracy of sex.” The document also points out that the Writ of Habeas Corpus is not extended to women, that women are not given a trial by their peers, and that women are taxed without representation, all acts which are considered unconstitutional and illegal when applied to men but are injustices regularly enacted upon women. By making these claims publicly and directly challenging the idea of “liberty” being celebrated at the centennial event in Philadelphia, Gage and the women from the NWSA who act with her parrhesiastically problematize the validity of the celebration itself and question the deeper roots that form the foundation of governmental and constitutional authority. The claims made in the Declaration rely heavily upon the ethos of American values and the logos of reasoned refutations against practices that violate the Constitution, which make these customary practices illegal. In authoring this document, the women of the NWSA demonstrate phronesis in their ability to produce well-reasoned arguments based upon warrants rooted in the United States legal system and Constitutional law, claims that likewise demonstrate that the NWSA authors carefully considered their audience and purpose as part of the composing process. Because the purpose of this document is to work to enact legal changes, it is written in the language of legalities to an audience that ostensibly knows and cares about the basis of these claims. The Declaration also works to invoke emotional responses from the audience, occasionally calling upon positive values associated with women and using the resultant emotions to appeal for legal change. The document argues that, because of unequal treatment for men and women, that women are “held by law a perpetual minor, deemed incapable of self- protection, even in the industries of the world,” which leads to deplorable economic and moral conditions for women so that “because of this injustice thousands of fatherless girls are compelled to choose between a life of shame and starvation.” Furthermore, legal sanctions against women and men are not equal so that “under the pretense of regulating public morals, police officers seizing the occupants of disreputable houses, march the women in platoons to prison, while the men, partners in their guilt, go free.” The image of the young, unprotected woman (“fatherless”) forced into a life of prostitution (“shame”) rather than face death (“starvation”) through no fault of her own works to arouse feelings of sympathy, outrage, and protectiveness in the audience, as well as to offer a more empathetic perspective as to why some women end up as sex workers in the gendered, economic climate of nineteenth century America. It is not because they lack “morality,” but rather because they have been forced into this situation because of the laws and customs of a country that claims to uphold values of equality and justice for all of its citizens.
96 It should be noted that this particular list was lifted verbatim from Gage’s congressional testimony in favor of women’s suffrage in the District of Columbia in January 1876.
137 A close reading of the text shows the qualities of parrhesia within it, as well as its careful rhetorical construction and specific appeals for this audience and purpose. I would like to extend this analysis by stepping back from the text itself to examine the situation in which it arose as a parrhesiastic act within a particular time, place, and set of exigencies. As with many other parrhesiastic acts, Gage and the other women from NWSA seized a particular kairotic moment in which to act; specifically, the exigency of a huge international gathering that included heads of state from around the world, as well as American law-makers and politicians. This moment of celebration already invoked the principles and values upon which the nation was founded, which strengthened the ethos appeals of the document as embodying American values in a moment when those were specifically on the minds of many audience members. Additionally, larger cultural exigencies help to form this situation, as women continued to be disenfranchised a full hundred years after the signing of the Declaration of Independence. These cultural and temporal conditions provided a suitable situation within which it was particularly effective and impactful for a public display of parrhesiastic action. The constraints upon the women of the NWSA, likewise, are both cultural and immediate. As stated, they were still denied the vote and had unequal access to legal protection and power under the law, arguably to the violation of their Constitutional rights as citizens of the United States. Additionally, in this specific situation, they had been denied the right to speak at the celebration and so had to find a different way to communicate their message of resistance. This particular event also shows the power of embodiment in parrhesiastic action, as the message itself was silent—the women did not speak at all—and yet their message came through “loud and clear” as a part of the proceedings.
Figure 8 Diagram of rhetorical situation of Gage/NWSA 1876 Declaration
138 Approximately 150,000 people assembled for the celebration in Independence Square on July 4th 1876 and witnessed the parrhesiastic actions of Gage and the women of the NWSA. The initial reaction seems to have been shock and surprise, and it was this reaction itself that likely allowed the women access to the speakers’ podium. They moved through the crowd quickly, knowing that “they only had a few seconds to reach the speaker’s platform before the guards surrounding it would stop them” (Wagner Declaration 18). Because the dignitaries near the platform were “taken by surprise [they] all made way” for the women to approach (Wagner Declaration 18). While there is little reported about the overall reactions of the crowd assembled, newspapers did report on the event with mixed reviews. The range of “the press reaction to the women’s presentation of their Declaration was extrememly varied, ranging all the way from stoney silence or open hostility to lavish praise of the women’s historic gesture” (Wagner Declaration 39). Immediately after the women delivered the printed copy of the Declaration to the Vice President, they distributed several copies of the document throughout the crowd, distributing their message to several people simultaneously and expanding the audience for the actual, printed words they had composed for this occasion. Had they not done this, it is possible that the event might have been recorded as an odd and unexpected disturbance of the celebration, but the exact message might have not been widely known or recorded. However, because the women copied the document themselves and delivered it in a text-based medium, they expanded their audience beyond only the Vice President, who might have chosen to simply discard the scroll after it was delivered. This, too, shows the overlap between oral and print delivery, as well as the possibilities for distribution, even in the immediate kairotic moment. While the parrhesiastic act itself was the embodied disruption of the centennial celebration proceedings, the document itself, copied and purposely distributed, dispersed the parrhesiastic message to wider audiences. The women of the NWSA also assembled in a nearby Unitarian church, and spent the rest of the day giving speeches and generally celebrating the delivery of the Declaration at the centennial celebration, despite having been officially denied the right to do so. Gage gave a speech based upon the Declaration later in the day, though in her address to the NWSA, she focused on the legalities of “the widespread practice of wife battering and the frequency of femicide” in mid-nineteenth century America. She connected this practice to a suspension of habeas corpus, where husbands were allowed to imprison their wives under the law, a condition that led to deplorable, and sometimes deadly, consequences for women (Wagner 18). In this case, the audience was likely much more engaged and sympathetic to her position, as these were women assembled specifically for the purpose of delivering and receiving messages of resistance to the oppressive conditions of women in the United States at this time. By examining this event through a lens of rhetorical parrhesia, it is possible to see how the parrhesiastic act works to call upon the values of the community/audience in attendance and make a claim that, even though America was ostensibly in the process of celebrating the triumph of its greatest values—freedom, equality, democracy, etc.—it was doing so amidst blatant hypocrisy, ignoring the exclusion and disenfranchisement of half of its own citizens. Though the women of the NWSA were denied the right to speak, they still delivered their message and enacted this parrhesiastic claim as a silent, embodied, rhetorical act, which while “quiet” completely disrupted the prominent officials who were speaking, reversing the conventional hierarchy associated with who had the right to speak or not in this situation. In this way, Gage demands the right to speak even when it is denied, taking up her own rights as a citizen within a
139 supposed democracy, enacting parrhesiastic resistance in order to further the tenants of that democratic ideology, even when doing so comes at great personal risk. By situating Gage’s behavior within a parrhesiastic tradition, it is possible to link it back to historic others who likewise resisted power at great risk, rather than view it as simply an isolated, individuated act. At the same time, Gage and her accomplices took specific, embodied risks by enacting these tactics, so that the act itself also demands recognition and analysis in order to show how these deeds work within a particular rhetorical situation. Additionally, by linking this event to other occurrences within the suffrage movement of the nineteenth century, whether enacted by Gage herself or others invested in promoting women’s rights, these seemingly disparate moments can be viewed as working together to create fissures, cracks, and disruptions in the field of normative social practices that eventually led to legal reforms concerning women, and eventually the vote.
Networks of Resistance: Connecting Parrhesia Across Time, Space, and Medium The acts taken by Gage analyzed in this chapter did not occur in an isolated vacuum; rather, her activities, while sometimes taken on as an individual risk, can be viewed as occurring within a larger network of resistance that connects across time and space to other related acts that can be described as parrhesiastic. Just as Gage specifically situates herself within an historic tradition of women who resisted their diminished role within patriarchal society, so, too, can we situate Gage within a network that continues that resistance, work which extends into the present day. As Gage called upon the memory of Sapho, Queen Victoria, Mary Cunitz, Lady Jane Grey, Mrs. Stowe, and Margaret Fuller for inspiration, feminists today who seek examples of women who spoke out amidst risk can likewise look to Gage as a potential source. Additionally, we can view the acts of all the women Gage mentions in her first public speech as acting together in a very dispersed way to disrupt power relations and gender expectations wherever they happened to meet them. Though these women existed and acted in societies and times vastly different from one another, and though they may have had to “bear the obloquy which always has, and always will, follow the first promulgation of unaccustomed truths,” they can still draw strength and inspiration from one another through textual mediums. This, too, speaks to the importance of print as a means of distributing parrhesiastic messages, as they can far too easily be lost to time and the ethereal nature of orality if not remediated into print. Similarly to the networked connections across time between parrhesiastic actors, Gage’s actions have connections to, and cumulative effects that act alongside, other rhetorical activities focused on gender equality and women’s suffrage from the nineteenth century. In some cases, these connections are evident, such as the centennial celebration event detailed above, or Gage’s role as president of the NWSA and editor of its periodical. However, the networked connections between Gage’s actions and others in the movement exist even when actors are in disagreement with one another about the proper course of action to take, or when they are directly opposed to a specific parrhesiastic tactic or rhetor. For instance, while today we often have the impression that the women’s movement of the nineteenth century was a more or less seamless entity that acted together in harmony most of the time, extant letters and other documents demonstrate that this is not the case. Rather, the view we have now of the movement is largely the product of Anthony’s control over the composing process of the last volumes of the History of Woman Suffrage, which she
140 commissioned after Gage’s and Stanton’s deaths.97 As noted, “Anthony lived longer than either Stanton or Gage…[and]…made her name so inextricably tied to the movement that her telling of its history became the accepted version” (Wagner Sky 68). Through the control of textual artifacts and their subsequent potential for distribution, Anthony’s version of history became the official one, and within that Gage’s contributions are often downplayed or fully omitted.98 Nevertheless, it can be argued that in order for women to eventually receive the vote and expanded legal and social freedoms, that Gage’s actions were necessary, as were the actions of organizations with which she was often at odds. It seems clear from Gage’s letters, corroborated in many cases with the letters of other women in the movement, that she was systematically excluded and marginalized by both Stanton and Anthony in the last ten years of her life, largely because of her refusal to back down from her assertions that religion was an influential cause in the oppression of women throughout history. Though Stanton agreed with her philosophically,99 politically speaking, she and Anthony came to believe that they needed to be more inclusive of Christian-based organizations, such as The Women’s Christian Temperance League, if they were ever to combine forces toward suffrage. This led to a notorious controversy where Gage, Chair of the Executive Committee of the NWSA in 1888, was purposely excluded from a meeting during which a merger with the much more conservative AWSA (American Women Suffrage Association) was orchestrated by Anthony. This rift led Gage to form the much more radical Woman’s National Liberal Union, which Anthony denounced as “ridiculous, absurd, sectarian, bigoted and too horrible for anything” in letters she wrote to women across the country (qtd Wagner Sky 56). Gage successfully organized her first convention, bringing together a diverse group of people from thirty-three states including “radical reformers…suffragists, labor organizers, anarchists, freethinkers and prison reformers [who] all found common cause in an absolute separation of church and state” (Wagner Sky 57). Gage’s rebellious stance and determination to stick to her beliefs is not surprising for a parrhesiastes, who will act despite risk or audience reception. Though her organization split with other groups working for women’s rights at the time, her activities as a parrhesiastes and spokeswoman for resistance of oppression continued to operate in a networked fashion along with other groups working toward loosely similar goals. In this way, parrhesiastic rhetors such as Gage may be seen as necessary to the success of social movements, not because one person acting alone can create substantial, cultural change, but because these transgressive acts of outspoken resistance are an integral part of those transformations. While other rhetors may take up other tactics to promote their causes—such as the Women’s Christian Temperance League calling upon Christian principles of compassion as a
97 Anthony notoriously did not write at all, so she hired Ida Husted Harper to complete the last volumes. After they were penned, Anthony ordered all of her own letters and documents destroyed, which has made it difficult to reconstruct any narrative of this history other than the one Anthony authorized. 98 For instance, no mention is made in the History of the newspaper run by Gage (National Citizen and the Ballot Box) despite the fact that it was the NWSA’s official paper. However, the paper Anthony ran, The Revolution, is included even though it only existed for two years. 99 Stanton, along with other women including Gage, authored The Women’s Bible, published in two parts (1895 and 1898) that challenged the orthodox belief that women should be subservient to men. This publication was opposed by many in the women’s suffrage movement as too radical and essentially ended the influence Stanton had upon the movement by the turn of the century.
141 basis for protecting women from the violence of drunken men, against which women had little legal recourse—they may have had the courage to speak out at all because of women like Gage who initially crossed cultural boundaries to deliver a message that challenged entrenched power structures. In analyses of parrhesiastic rhetors, it is essential to look at the particular moments of resistance to understand how these events work within a social space to challenge power. At the same time, it is likewise imperative to expand that lens to include larger cultural exigencies that lead to parrhesaistic action, and also to connect these actions across time and place in order to gain a fuller understanding of the true power of resistance. While it may be true that one act of any one individual is unlikely to reshape power relations, when taken cumulatively across temporal and spatial distances, it becomes clear that parrhesiastic action has long served to both resist and reshape power throughout history. This is evidenced by the repetition and redistribution of narratives about these parrhesiastic rhetors and their moments of risk through the medium of print, where these actions can be appreciated and drawn upon by subsequent generations. It is likewise notable that it is through the recording of these events and their dissemination to wider audiences that parrhesiastic events continue to effect and disrupt social and legal institutions, as rhetors in the present can draw upon these tactics from the past in order to more fully understand the interactions between cultural exigencies, kairotic appropriation, audience, delivery, rhetorical appeals, and message that constitute more effective enactments of the ethos of the parrhesiastes. This ethos, too, continues to be valorized, at least when the parrhesiastes in question exists in the historic past. Gage, who we can view through the lens of historic distance, was excluded and marginalized by her contemporaries and in the official history of a movement in which she invested so much of her life and rhetorical skill, precisely because of the qualities of parrhesia that we can, from where we stand, so much admire. As noted in every parrhesiastes analyzed in this study, at the time of their disruptive, resistive acts, their behavior will likely be viewed as controversial, with audience reactions ranging from strong identification and valorization to complete dismissal and vilification. Nevertheless, the actions of parrhesiastes are memorable; their acts, by their very nature to disrupt and call the status quo into question, makes these events stand out within the field of normative social convention and shows the places where those norms may not be as solid or intransgressible as they appear. Perhaps because of this notability, the acts of parrhesiastes throughout history have been recorded, distributed, and circulated within the culture so that they might continue to influence and inspire subsequent audiences with their messages and tactics of resistance. In these ways, the parrhesistes works within a larger network of activity that includes an historic web of acts of resistance in multiple times and places that, taken together, constitute significant disruptions of power. By remediating these activities into print, the historic activities of these resistive agents have continued to influence audiences over time, thus the medium into which these events are transcribed matters to the perpetuation and dissemination of parrhesiastic networks. As we will see, just as the proliferation of print culture affected the possibilities for the distribution of parrhesiastic literature for women in the nineteenth century, so, too, will the advent of new technology interact with and potentially transform the possibilities of parrhesia in the digital age.
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Section Four Parrhesia in Digital Spaces: Cyberspace, Surveillance, and Edward Snowden
143 Overview
On June 5th 2013 the world was shocked to learn100 that the United States government had forced Verizon to provide the cell phone records of millions of Americans, news doubly shocking because the American public had been reassured that mass surveillance of domestic citizens was not part of the post-9/11 intelligence gathering agenda. The very next day, another disquieting truth101 emerged: mass surveillance is not only carried out by the National Security Agency (NSA) through Verizon and cell phone devices, but also via Internet giants such as Microsoft, Yahoo, Google, Facebook, AOL, Skype, YouTube, and Apple in a program called PRISM. Two days later, on June 8th, yet another surprising piece of information was reported about a program called Boundless Informant, whereby the NSA collected metadata from national and international sources and included vast information on American citizens. These stories, distressing to vast numbers of worldwide citizens, were only possible because someone with high-level security clearance had leaked the documents, but who? Before the press had much opportunity to speculate, however, the informant came forward. Edward Snowden, a former systems administrator for the Central Intelligence Agency (CIA) and counterintelligence trainer at the Defense Intelligence Agency (DIA), came forward on June 9th via The Guardian to out himself as the person responsible for the leaked intelligence that had disconcerted worldwide audiences and initiated global discussion of surveillance. Not only was the scope of the leak historically unprecedented, but also that Snowden himself came forward and openly admitted that he was the one who had leaked the information. In an interview with The Washington Post on the day Snowden revealed his identity, John Rizzo, a former general counsel of the CIA, was quoted as saying, “This is significant on a number of fronts: the scope, the range. It’s major, it’s major…and then to have him out himself . . . I can’t think of any previous leak case involving a CIA officer where the officer raised his hand and said, ‘I’m the guy’” (Gellman et al). In the interview with Snowden that Glenn Greenwald, Ewen MacAskill, and Laura Poitras published in The Guardian, Snowden said he wanted to come forward because "I have no intention of hiding who I am because I know I have done nothing wrong” and that he wanted the public conversations to be about the information he had revealed, not spent on speculation about his identity and what motivated him, saying, "I don't want public attention because I don't want the story to be about me. I want it to be about what the US government is doing." Further, he explained, "I really want the focus to be on these documents and the debate which I hope this will trigger among citizens around the globe about what kind of world we want to live in…My sole motive is to inform the public as to that which is done in their name and that which is done against them." While of course the press did discuss and to some degree attempt to discredit him in various ways,102 the scope and profundity of what he had
100 The Guardian first published these disclosures through Glenn Greenwald, who was working closely with Snowden at the time, but news quickly spread through all major news outlets. 101 The PRISM program was covered by both The Guardian and The Washington Post on June 6th but like the Verizon disclosure, this news was immediately picked up by most national and international news outlets. 102 For instance, various sources reported that he did not have a high school diploma and attempted to use that as reason to doubt the positions he held in the CIA or the veracity of his allegations.
144 revealed about governmental surveillance practices began an international dialogue that continues today. To uphold the values of transparency he repeatedly called upon through his disclosures, Snowden openly revealed his identity as well as his motives, knowing that he did so at great risk to himself. In a note that accompanied the first set of documents Snowden passed to Glenn Greenwald, Snowden shows that he understands the consequences of his actions, stating, "I understand that I will be made to suffer for my actions," but goes on to explain that "I will be satisfied if the federation of secret law, unequal pardon and irresistible executive powers that rule the world that I love are revealed even for an instant” (Greenwald et al). Despite the severity of the risks he took, “he remained inconceivably calm…[and]… felt profoundly at peace with what he had done,” a condition that Greenwald, who spent a good deal of time with Snowden in his Hong Kong hotel in the days before the disclosures were publicized, found deeply inspiring and noteworthy (Greenwald 83). According to Greenwald, Snowden “cogently conveyed the conviction, passion, and force of commitment that had driven him to act. His boldness in coming forward to claim what he had done and take responsibility for his actions, his refusal to hide and be hunted, would, I knew, inspire millions” (83). The conviction, commitment, and boldness described in Snowden are exactly the traits of the parrhesiastes, who acts from a deep belief in truths that are stronger than drives for safety, security, or comfort, all of which Snowden had in abundance prior to making the decision to share proof of what he knew with the world. His actions and their motivations make Snowden a prime site of analysis for how parrhesia might manifest in contemporary society and also exemplifies how parrhesiastic activity may be altered in digital settings with the affordances of Internet and computer technologies. In the case of Snowden, the power to which he was responding, the actions he took, and the way they were rhetorically distributed would not have been possible in an age where only print-based materials were available. Rather, this form of parrhesia is significantly transformed within the technological mediums available to Snowden and would not have otherwise been possible. Additionally, power and its manifestations are changed by the same technological affordances, making it all the more ubiquitous and panoptic. It is because of these changing forms of power that Snowden speaks, where new configurations of power require novel iterations of parrhesia to effectively enact resistance. In Section Four, Chapter 8 will contextualize the actions of Snowden in the technological environment within which he acted and through which his parrhesia was delivered, distributed, and circulated. Because this same environment of computer-aided mediums also changes the possibilities of democratic activities and communicative modalities, Chapter 8 extends previous discussions of public sphere theories, though now set in the digital age. I will also offer background into current issues of national sovereignty that are complicated by the advent of the Internet and cyberspace, as well as give an overview of contemporary surveillance studies. This latter discipline shows how post-9/11 methods have altered conventional forms of surveillance, leading to the types of mass monitoring against which Snowden resisted and spoke out. Transitioning to Chapter 9, I will then examine the choices of Snowden, acting in accordance with other actors (e.g., digital journalists such as Glenn Greenwald, Laura Poitras, etc.) in order to enact a risky parrhesiastic event that created wide-scale disruptive effects and challenged some of the largest and most powerful institutions in the world. Offering an analysis based upon a rhetorical theory of parrhesia, I aim to show how these actions worked rhetorically and would not have been possible in previous times or without digital mediums. This analysis points toward
145 the possibilities for future acts of resistance, aided by available technologies, and the ways in which we might better understand how parrhesiastic acts work in digital environments. By examining Snowden within the context of contemporary technologies, I hope to demonstrate how we might analyze and understand acts of parrhesia as they are portrayed and carried out via these digital mediums so that we can more fully grasp their importance and how they work rhetorically in “real time” while they are occurring. It is my goal to round out the historic discussion from previous chapters by bringing parrhesia into the present tense, showing how risky acts of resistance can be recognized and interpreted while they are occurring and/or while their effects are still in active motion. This sense of the present in parrhesia may allow more effective means of analysis and enactment of parrhesia as a way to disrupt even large systems of power in service of deeply held truths, which as will be noted in Snowden, may connect us across divides of space, time, and positionality and serve more important goals than personal safety, security, or privilege. By examining Snowden through a lens of rhetorical parrhesia, we can comprehend both how his actions work rhetorically, as well as how they connect to larger networks of actors, both at the time of their enactment and beyond.
146 Chapter 8 Distribution and Circulation in Publics of Surveillance
Digital Delivery: Re-embodied Immediacy There is no question that the technologies of communication alter the ways we interact with and understand one another, and as I have discussed previously, the medium of delivery, whether oral or print, contribute to the ways audiences receive rhetorical messages. This in turn affects the way parrhesia is perceived across various audiences and also largely determines who has access to those messages in the first place. When parrhesiastic events are recorded via text, they have the possibility to be circulated at other times and in other manners so that a parrhesiastic message may have influence well past the moment of its specific enactment. While I have examined the ramifications of parrhesia in both oral and print mediums, the question arises then for current considerations of parrhesiastic action about what happens to these acts and messages in digital spaces. Throughout history, parrhesiastic acts have been remediated from oral to print mediums, allowing for greater distribution of these messages and furthering their potential to impact society; what happens to these acts and messages if they are delivered and distributed in digital spaces? It could be argued that without the medium of print, parrhesiastic acts might have had very little ongoing historic effect at all. For instance, would Martin Luther’s Ninety-Five Theses have been so memorable or created such an impact if they had only been posted on the door of All Saint’s Church in Wittenberg in 1517? Or was it the act of copying the theses and spreading them across Germany, and within a couple of months all of Europe, that precipitated the Protestant Revolution? Arguably, without the printing press, this revolution might not have been possible, and surely would have taken longer. This leads to a question: What are the effects of distributing a parrhesiastic message in the medium of print that may not be possible in a solely oral delivery? And how does this change in digital environments? In digital spaces, embodied delivery might once again have a place in discussions of delivery, as new media makes it possible for rhetors to use the rhetorical means of the body in order to support the effectiveness of their message. As James Porter points out, unlike wholly print-based mediums, in a digital environment it is possible to return to the rhetorical importance of the body as expressed in Quintilian where “the body is an important part of rhetorical action… [where] …one’s commitment and the appropriate coordination of one’s thoughts, feelings, and bodily expressions are important to rhetorical effect” (209). Aspects of embodied delivery, including the “visual body” and “voice and aurality” are “recovered in digital space” in ways not possible in purely print-based mediums (213). This reintroduction of the body as a visible, hearable rhetorical vehicle adds elements of possibility that were not part of print delivery, while at the same time incorporating textual elements as well. In multimodal rhetorics, the combination of aural, visual, and textual elements together allows for wider possibilities for delivery and effect, and adds to the complexity in understanding how parrhesia works in these environments. McCorkle notes that even in mediums such as television and radio, elements of embodied delivery reappeared, though he likewise notes the absence of rhetorical analysis or speculation about the reappearance of these aspects. He makes the claim that “delivery disappeared in the age of electronic media,” ironic given that electronic mediums such as television allowed for more embodied delivery and could have once included elements such as tone of voice, inflection, gesture, facial expression, etc. (121). Though the print culture of the nineteenth century set the stage for the new media of the twentieth century, the new forms of communication “extended the speed and reach of our communications, beyond even the scope afforded by mechanizing the
147 hand-operated printing press” (124). Print, “as the first truly mass medium,” created a demand and an expectation for the production and consumption of more texts for the purpose of entertainment and news, and also provided the infrastructure for the distribution of these texts (125). In these ways, previous print mediums paved the way for new digital technologies, first with mediums such as television and radio, and later for computer technologies and networked digital environments. Following past dynamics of transition, digital mediums likewise borrow from old technologies in the formation of new ones, though in recent times, scholars have reclaimed the canon of delivery for this new media environment. McCorkle argues that, “the variables within this rhetorical/technological equation are part of a complex reciprocal dynamic of remediation, a dense feedback loop wherein each player aids and abets the continued cultural relevance of the other” (140). Delivery has reemerged as a focus of study within and as part of this new digital environment and “by examining the decline of print’s hegemonic status alongside the advent of digital writing technologies, as well as the general rise of poststructuralist theories, [McCorkle argues] that the revived conversation about delivery is both a reflection of and a force acting within this dynamic flux” (141-2). One shift in thinking comes from a focus on the ways in which human and non-human factors work together to create and disseminate texts, as well as recognizing a performative aspect in texts beyond only oratory where texts can be viewed as “performative objects” (142-3). This is helping to create what Walter Ong deems a “second orality” where forms of communication that were historically separate are now more intertwined, creating hybridized texts composed in multiple mediums. It is within these complex textual possibilities that new, digital forms of parrhesia arise and are distributed. These forms offer opportunities for more apparently embodied rhetorical means, as well as innovative, widespread, and seemingly instantaneous methods of distribution. In Chapter 9, I will examine the documentary Citizenfour and how the embodied representation of Edward Snowden contributes to his ethos and audience reception. While Snowden himself was not necessarily rhetorically savvy, his efforts to come forth were aided by both Laura Poitras, who directed and filmed the footage for Citizenfour in the days leading up to the publication of Snowden’s intelligence leaks, as well as Glen Greenwald, the reporter who wrote the initial stories based upon Snowden’s disclosures and published them through The Guardian. In Greenwald’s book about Snowden, he specifically says that what he wanted “more than anything was for the world to see Snowden’s fearlessness,” an attribute that would come through clearly on camera in a way it could not via only a text-based interview (83). In fact, the first story that The Guardian ran disclosing Snowden’s identity publicly includes a twelve and a half minute video of Greenwald interviewing Snowden so that he speaks to the audience directly, an embodied person with a voice, facial expressions, and body language. This type of delivery would not be possible in a purely text-based medium, nor would the relative permanence of the event be available after the fact in a purely oral medium. However, in digital space, a text-based story can accompany a video that shows Snowden speaking to his audience, in his own voice, through his own body, and that video can re-enact that moment repeatedly for potentially millions of viewers. This multimodal delivery method has implications and lasting effects that are not possible in the other mediums yet discussed, and has ramifications for the ways in which Snowden was perceived at the time of this disclosure, as well as the ways he may be perceived into the future.
148 Distribution and Circulation Distribution, in addition to having a strong relationship with delivery, overlaps and is affected by circulation, a topic that must be explained here in some detail and which likewise affects the way we might analyze Snowden. While The Guardian article mentioned above was packaged for distribution specifically on their website, links to the site, as well as video clips taken from the initial interview were circulated online in a multitude of ways, some almost immediately after the fact, and others that may yet be composed. For an understanding of the ways distribution and circulation might influence a text, I turn now to a discussion of these issues from the field of rhetorical theory and circulation studies. In an article in CCC in 2000, John Trimbur examined the materiality of writing as it pertains to delivery, distribution, and circulation. He called for a focus on the “material conditions of writing and getting it delivered where it needs to go” as a way of problematizing the idea of the “isolation of writing from the material conditions production and delivery” (189). While this was certainly a good start in examining how teachers of writing can be so focused on the “writing itself” that they fail to notice the “complex delivery systems by which writing circulates,” his use of Marx’s model limits the ways in which distribution and circulation can be delineated (190). In Marx’s model, production, distribution, exchange, and consumption are subsumed under the heading of “circulation,” which Trimbur thinks should be the focus of greater analysis. Trimbur uses circulation and delivery interchangeably and explains that he does so because “delivery can no longer be thought of simply as a technical aspect of public discourse” as it is also “ethical and political” as well (190). Trimbur believes that “delivery must be seen as inseparable from circulation of writing and the widening diffusion of socially useful knowledge,” a position that limits the ways in which these sites can be analyzed or used to understand the ways in which texts operate as they reach different audiences (191). In the intervening time, several scholars have taken up this discussion and made greater distinctions between distribution and circulation, where, generally speaking, the former consists of rhetorical choices made by the composer and the latter focuses on how those texts are repurposed after distribution. Douglas Eyman sees circulation as a “foundational element” for understanding digital rhetoric and seeks “to develop both methodology and methods for tracing the circulation of rhetorical objects across and through various knowledge domains and networks” (4). He specifically examines writing and scholarship once it is delivered, looking at the various human and non-human audiences and actors that engage with a text as it circulates through digital ecologies, and contrasts his approach to Trimbur, who relies upon a Marxist model that views circulation as the result of delivery. Eyman views it as “a separate process; as, in effect, a rhetorical meta-canon that derives its analytic and productive powers from the contexts and movements of rhetorical objects themselves (as a form of post-rhetor agency)” (6). To delineate between the ideas of delivery and circulation, Eyman uses the term “’delivery’ to speak of rhetorical activity that is embodied in the deliberate choices made by the composer of a given text…[whereas]…circulation constitutes both the movement of a text through a network and its use by other actors once it has been delivered” (7-8). James Porter, in developing a theory of delivery applicable to texts composed, distributed, and circulating in digital environments, describes this distinction in a similar manner. Porter is conscious that changes in technology may alter delivery in unpredictable ways, and points to the idea that a technological transformation like the printing press is “not a mere technical or instrumental shift from one form of delivering knowledge to another. The new form of delivery changed knowledge itself” (210). However, historically speaking, we have used the term delivery
149 to refer almost exclusively to oral speech, but this, in Porter’s argument, is not a complete way of looking at what delivery entails. As part of his heuristic model,103 he describes the difference between distribution and circulation where “digital distribution refers to rhetorical decisions about the mode of presenting discourse in online situations… [whereas] …circulation is a related term that pertains to how that message might be recycled in digital space” (214). In digital spaces, “distribution refers then to the initial decision about how you package a message in order to send it to its intended audience. Circulation refers to the potential for that message to have a document life of its own and be re-distributed without your direct intervention” (214). Porter also points out that, although one cannot fully control the end results of any text that is released in digital space, a composer can create a text in ways that either encourage or discourage circulation. Laurie Gries offers a new materialist approach to tracking the circulation of visual images across multiple mediums, genres, and contexts by focusing on a five-year-long case study involving the Obama Hope image. She defines circulation studies as “an interdisciplinary approach to study discourse in motion…[where]…scholars investigate not only how discourse is produced and distributed, but also how once delivered, it circulations, transforms, and affects change through its material encounters” (333). Borrowing from work by Bruno Latour, Keven, DeLuca, Joe Wilferth, Jenny Edbaur, Kevin Porter, and others, Gries offers a method of iconographic tracking that she hopes others will employ in their own studies of circulation. She defines “Circulation…[as]… largely beyond a designer’s control, unlike distribution, which is a deliberative process” (344). This definition and distinction echoes others in circulation studies and helps to provide a meaningful way to distinguish between the consciously chosen rhetorical packaging of a text for distribution, versus the process of circulation that may occur later and which is largely beyond the scope of control for the original rhetor. David M. Sheridan, Jim Ridolfo, and Anthony J. Michel’s work focuses more upon reproduction, distribution, and circulation than traditional rhetorical theories, which generally end when the composing process of a single, isolated work is complete. In their approach, however, they demonstrate how “rhetorical effectiveness is often a function of the rhetor’s ability to navigate complex processes of circulation that are simultaneously material, cultural, and rhetorical…[where]…success depends on how [a composition] travels through a field of complex relationships between various cultural institutions and structures” (58). Complicated relationships exist in this type of composing between potentially many different human composers, recomposers, and distributers of texts along with the technology used for these processes so that “multimodal rhetoric often emerges from a complex network” (xxiii). In this model, “rhetors not only need to anticipate reproduction and distribution, but to involve themselves in processes of reproduction and distribution” (xxvi). While the relationships between delivery, distribution, and circulation are inherently complex despite the medium, Sheridan et al. point out how deeply complicated these networks can be in digital spaces that utilize multimodal texts. In digital environments, the ability for a text to be recomposed and circulated in unexpected ways may actually be a prerequisite for its “success” as a rhetorical artifact. As the authors note, “all successful public rhetoric is successful only if it effectively negotiates the
103 He offers five areas for heuristic analysis for digital delivery that includes Body/Identity, Distribution/Circulation, Access/Accessibility, Interaction, and Economics that can “operate heuristically and productively across multiple situations to prompt rhetorical decisions regarding production” (208).
150 material-cultural challenges of circulation…[thus]…composers’ decisions anticipate future considerations of distribution” (63). They contend that, “compositions fuel other compositions” so that “rhetors increasingly need to proactively plan for and facilitate the circulation of their compositions” (67, 78). The term they employ to describe this is “rhetorical velocity [which] refers to the way rhetors strategize about the potential recomposition and redistribution of a text” (79). Some texts are specifically distributed with ease of reuse in mind, which might be in the form of the type of file it is or the way that it is labeled for free use. In these ways, “a rhetor thinking about rhetorical velocity may consider any number of intrinsic and extrinsic factors regarding the potential speed, direction, and motion of a text” (81). However, even in the case of the skillful and reflective rhetor, we need “to candidly confront the reality that the way rhetorical compositions circulate is always, to some extent, unpredictable, beyond the control of even the most prepared rhetor” (83). In this complex network that involves humans, technology, and larger cultural, historic, and social forces, “success is a function of multiple composers, multiple audiences, multiple compositions, multiple technologies, multiple channels of circulation—the convergence of many heterogeneous elements. Nevertheless, agency does not disappear” (107). Balanced between a view where rhetors are viewed as either wholly autonomous subjects, or wholly controlled by cultural forces, the authors view rhetors as “points of articulation” for a rhetorical composition, noting that “the rhetorical process exceeds the composing process” (109- 110). This way of approaching multimodal public rhetoric and pedagogy allows for more possibilities in composing practices, as well as points of analysis for understanding the complexities of multimodal composing in highly networked spaces and for multiple publics. It could be argued that parrhesia without the ability to rhetorically package and distribute the moment of resistance would have little effect upon wider audiences or cultural practices, and that these rhetorical artifacts can be subsequently picked up and circulated in a variety of ways, may of which are unpredictable. Snowden’s disclosures were specifically and rhetorically created for particular venues of circulation—The Guardian and The Washington Post for instance—but then once these texts were released, they took on a kind of life of their own. Memes of Snowden abound on the Internet, as do video clips of him speaking, either in the interviews with Greenwald or from footage taken from the now-released Citizenfour. His image has also been remediated into sculpture, holograms, and other works of art that likewise stand in for his calls for transparency and strong parrhesiastic resistance to power. It is in these acts of distribution and circulation, which occur at an almost immeasurably dispersed and rapid rate, that a parrhesiastic message has the opportunity to reach broad audiences, and in remediating and recirculating messages from or inspired by Snowden, it offers audiences the opportunity to directly interact and identify with Snowden, which further promotes a networked model of parrhesia that ripples through fields of power in ways that seek to continue initial acts of disruption. While current methods of distribution and circulation would not be possible in oral or text-based mediums, it also leads to questions of what actually is possible within cyberspace— how much democratic action is feasible and what effects are possible to achieve? What happens to parrhesia and the democratic process in an environment where information can travel at nearly instantaneous velocities? And where messages can be delivered to extremely wide and dispersed audiences without the limitations of editorial intervention? These questions become particularly salient in light of the systems of power against which Snowden resisted, namely, the extensive apparatus of national security and mass surveillance that potentially permeates nearly every corner of cyberspace in the post-9/11 world. To understand the context of Snowden’s actions, I
151 turn now to a discussion of public spheres in cyberspace, followed by an overview of surveillance studies that give a context to the powers against which Snowden’s parrhesia was enacted.
Cyber Spaces and Public Spheres The advent of the Internet caused many theorists interested in theories of the public sphere to postulate how cyberspace might accommodate new forms of discourse and debate that could be accessible to more people. Rather than the “one-way” mass communication mediums like television or radio, the Internet allowed people to speak back and discuss political ideas rather than be passive receivers of that information. To further this discussion, the positions of both Mark Poster and Jodi Dean are useful in considering both the context of Snowden’s parrhesiastic disclosures as well as the space within which others quickly took up debate about the ramifications of that information. In an often-cited paper, “Cyberdemocracy: Internet and the Public Sphere,” Mark Poster presented a view of online communications that had the possibility to transcend old modes of public discourse. Previous sites only allowed privileged access to transmit messages to a passive audience that could not speak back, a dynamic criticized by Habermas as the "refeudalization" of the public sphere where positions are presented before the people without becoming the topic of public discussion or debate (200). Poster compares new, networked technologies to those of the past, claiming, “the Internet disrupts the basic assumptions of the older positions…[and it]… is above all a decentralized communication system” (204). Poster posits that digital technology leads to the “dematerialization of communication and in many of its aspects a transformation of the subject position of the individual who engages within it,” changing the relationships between subject, matter, non-matter, and culture, so that in these regards, “the Internet is more like a social space than a thing” (205). For Poster, this leads to the question as to whether or not the Internet is or could be a public sphere, which “is at the heart of any reconceptualization of democracy” (206). While there are myriad complications and historic changes between the ideas of “private” and “public” that Poster reviews, he also notes that “the age of the public sphere as face-to-face talk is clearly over: the question of democracy must henceforth take into account new forms of electronically mediated discourse,” a claim that is difficult to deny (209). Though the Internet does not necessarily provide the idealized space of Habermas’s rational/deliberative public sphere, it does alter public discourse, which has been mediated by human/machine interfaces for quite some time. In the Internet age, “the machines enable new forms of decentralized dialogue and create new combinations of human-machine assemblages… which are the new building blocks of political formations and groupings” (210). In addition to the Internet promoting “a decentralization of discourse if not democracy itself,” it in turn may pose a form of potential resistance to the forces of power as it “appears to threaten the state (unmonitorable conversations), mock at private property (the infinite reproducibility of information) and flaunt moral propriety (the dissemination of images of unclothed people often in awkward positions)” (210). While Poster acknowledges that the Internet often represents a continuation of existing identities and institutions, he also contends that it offers new possibilities. In Poster’s view, “Internet discourse constitutes the subject as the subject fashions him or herself” in relation to social spaces and interactions and “does connote a ‘democratization’ of subject constitution because the acts of discourse are not limited to one-way address and not constrained by the
152 gender and ethnic traces inscribed in face-to-face communications” (211). Because of this, the Internet offers a way to decentralize cultural production, including identity. At the same time, Poster is not claiming that the Internet offers an “even field” for all players or that sexism, racism, and other exclusionary practices are not reproduced in these spaces, but rather while “Internet communication does not completely filter out preexisting technologies of power as it enacts new ones, it reproduces them variably depending on the specific feature of the Internet in question” (212). Because the Internet offers ways to break with or distance from identity determinants, it “institutes a communicative practice of self-constitution, the political as we have known it is reconfigured…[and]… introduces an unprecedented novelty for political theory” (213-214). While the Internet does not automatically create the space for emancipatory practices or new forms of democracy, Poster argues for the ways in which cyberspace has altered conventional forms of identity and politics, calling for new ways of imagining social, political, and identity formations that no longer rely on systems developed in vastly different communicative spaces. While Poster’s view may be critiqued as overly idealistic, his view of the possibilities of the Internet are, nevertheless, echoed by many active in cyberspace, including Snowden. In Citizenfour, the film by Laura Poitras that closely documented the days leading up to Snowden’s disclosure, Snowden speaks of the Internet in the days prior to mass surveillance in glowing terms, saying, “I remember what the Internet was like before it was being watched. And there has never been anything in the history of man like it… it was free and unrestrained.” In Snowden’s description of the Internet during this time,104 he echoes the points made by Poster where identity was more fluid and privileged subject positions less enmeshed so that “children from one part of the world [were] having an equal discussion, where you know they were sort of granted the same respect for their ideas and conversation, with experts in the field from another part of the world on any topic, anywhere, anytime, all the time,” an environment that allowed Snowden a range of intellectual curiosity and freedom that he felt was worth fighting for. John Perry Barlow echoes a similar spirit to Poster’s view of the possibilities for the Internet as a public sphere and Snowden’s experiences of a more inclusive, open Internet in his often-circulated manifesto “A Declaration of the Independence of Cyberspace.” Published in 1996 as a response to the Telecommunications Reform Act, the Declaration addresses the “Governments of the Industrial World, you weary giants of flesh and steel” and asks these institutions of the past to leave those in cyberspace alone, saying, “You are not welcome among us. You have no sovereignty where we gather.” The manifesto continues, restating the perceptions of Poster and Snowden above of the Internet as “a world that all may enter without privilege or prejudice accorded by race, economic power, military force, or station of birth… where anyone, anywhere may express his or her beliefs, no matter how singular, without fear of being coerced into silence or conformity.” The idea that identities could interact fluidly without attachment to the body is apparent in Barlow’s statement and he claims that “Our identities have no bodies, so, unlike you, we cannot obtain order by physical coercion. We believe that from ethics, enlightened self-interest, and the commonweal, our governance will emerge.” While many accounts say that Barlow did not maintain this optimism (Lyon, Steven), and in a 2004 interview he claimed that he had become “older and smarter” (Doherty), his Declaration
104 The time period to which Snowden refers, and in which Mark Poster and others optimistic about the possibilities of the Internet generally refers, is the mid to late 1990s, or even up until September 11, 2001 after which major changes occurred.
153 nevertheless has effects upon the perceptions of the potential of cyberspace, as well as hinting at the threat imposed by governmental regulation. His manifesto is still referenced in current studies on surveillance and questions of sovereignty in cyberspace and points to the ways in which the Internet was, at least once, envisioned as a potential site for a public sphere, a perception that continues to influence memory and imagination, even if that vision was overly optimistic. Rather than the democratic practices idealized in ideas of the public sphere, Jodi Dean calls for a focus on neodemocracies based in practices of conflict in contestations over hegemony and winning over other positions. She notes that, “any transformative politics today will have to grapple with the speed of global telecommunications and the concomitant problems of data glut and information dumping. Instead of giving into the drive for spectacle and immediacy that plagues an audience-oriented news cycle, the issues networks of neodemocracy work to maintain links among those specifically engaged with a matter of concern” (109). Rather than the illusion of inclusivity and equality imagined by ideas of the public sphere, Dean claims, “not everyone knows. Not every opinion matters. What does matter is commitment and engagement by people and organizations networked around contested issues” (109). Access to greater information about issues does not likewise lead to greater political investment, which is apparent in the relationship between an increase in media proliferation alongside the decrease in political participation. Because of the proliferation and spread of vast amounts of information, “all sorts of horrible political processes are perfectly transparent today. The problem is that people don’t seem to mind, that they are so enthralled by transparency that they have lost the will to fight” (110). By abandoning the ideals of the public sphere in favor of the idea of neodemocracies based upon struggle and agonistic political tactics, “a democratic theory built around the notion of issue networks could avoid the fantasy of unity that has rendered publicity in technoculture so profoundly depoliticizing. It recognizes that fissures, antagonism, are what give democracy its political strength” (111). Dean’s discussion, while less optimistic than Poster’s, still takes into account the necessity of examining the Internet as a place where democratic practices occur, even if they are based in conflict and struggle. Additionally, her points about the public being “enthralled by transparency” and apathetic to the horror of political malpractice are also noteworthy and will come into place in later discussions of the effects of Snowden’s revelations upon public debate and legal procedures. It is arguable whether or not there is transparency (and as we will see, that is the exact solution that many call for surrounding the current issues with surveillance) or if “people,” to whom Dean vaguely refers, are truly that unanimously unmotivated to demand change. Dean’s ideas of neodemocracies and issue networks are applicable to the case of Snowden, who might be seen as participating in loosely defined movements that involve other actors who are likewise mobilized around issues of surveillance and transparency, who seek greater democratic freedoms, and who are willing to take risks by resisting state authorities in order to achieve these ends. While Snowden acted alone in his decision to copy untold numbers of documents,105 he was not able to distribute this information by himself, nor did he want to. As I will discuss in more detail later in this chapter, even more so than in the parrhesiastes of the past that have been examined, Snowden worked within a distributed network of actors that made his parrhesiastic act possible, and I would argue that these networks were at least loosely in place
105 Estimates range between 1.5 and 1.7 million documents, though less than 100,000 of them have been released at this time.
154 prior to him copying the NSA documents and made it possible for him to both distribute these and to find ways of eluding governmental and legal punishment for his actions. Actors such as Julian Assange, Laura Poitras, Glen Greenwald, and Sarah Harrison106 were all people who, prior to Snowden’s disclosures, were already working to speak or act out against large-scale state surveillance practices and who, in various ways, aided Snowden in enacting his own resistance and/or surviving the consequences. These issue networks, as Dean might call them, existed in opposition to state authority and continue to operate today, despite legal and political pressures that render their resistance highly problematic. Though Dean’s discussion of neodemocracies seems to be pointing to practices that take place within an already existing democracy, if this idea is taken side by side with Michael Warner’s idea of counterpublics, it implies conditions that may be moving toward democratic practices that can occur outside of, or beyond the reach of, state authority. I would argue that the movements toward state transparency that Snowden and the other actors mentioned are a part of, combined with the willingness to enact parrhesia in ways that seriously expose and disrupt large institutions of power, indicate that the nature of democracy itself may be changing. While the optimism of early Internet theorists such as Poster or Barlow may not be realized, cyberspace does challenge conventional notions of sovereignty, freedom, and public spaces in ways that may not yet be fully realized. Before a close analysis of the acts of Snowden and those who helped him distribute his message, I want to first give an overview of ideas about state sovereignty and surveillance in cyberspace, two ideas that help to illuminate the powers Snowden and others are up against in their efforts to resist the digital controls that are invisibly, and often unknowingly, placed upon the world’s citizens.
Cyberspace: Sovereignty, Surveillance, and Control Discussions of publics and the possibilities of democratic action in cyberspace point to the technological differences and developments that allow for new ways of communicating and interacting, but also suggest that power, too, may have new ways of acting upon individuals and shaping or controlling these interactive possibilities. In digital spaces, both power and resistance reconfigure in order to most fully use and exploit the technological affordances of that space in ways not formerly possible in other mediums. To more fully understand the forces of power Snowden confronted in his decision to parrhesiastically come forward with classified information about the extent of the surveillance conducted by the NSA, it may be helpful to understand the backdrop for this action through an overview of the way power operates in digital spaces. In the book Cyberspace and the State: Toward a Strategy of Cyberpower, David Betz and Tim Stevens seek to define what cyberspace107 is and how it is used, specifically in relation to global power. The many attributes of cyberspace have mixed outcomes for various parties. The authors note that the multivalent combined attributes of cyberspace
106 Sarah Harrison, activist and WikiLeaks editor, helped hide Snowden for 39 days in the Moscow International airport’s transit zone. The United States revoked his passport so he was unable to continue his flight to Cuba and safe haven in Latin America, nor could he enter Russia without a visa (Radia and Bruce). 107 Betz and Stevens point out that cyberspace is not the same as the Internet where “the former is a metaphor, while the latter is composed of real hardware” (13).
155 …have great potential to disrupt the status quo….the historically unparalleled dense web of interconnected computers and people thus represents something of a paradox. It creates a wealth of opportunities for commercial enterprise and for the delivery of public goods and services, as well as new ways for citizens to participate in civil society; but it also creates awesome opportunities for the worlds’ most sophisticated militaries and their various opponents, both state and non-state, to employ new ways and potentially powerful means of strategic action, which are arguably difficult to defend against and complex to deter. (10) Though of course nation states also use the power of cyberspace for various ends, “the power potential of non-state actors thus is substantially boosted” (11). In this model, then, while cyberspace offers the possibilities of greater, or at least different, state controls, it also provides new opportunities for resistance to those controls for a wider segment of the population. Hackers, who I would argue constitute a type of counterpublic, constitute one of the types of people who take advantage of the affordances of cyberspace for non-state oriented ends. Betz and Stevens examine the changing roles and perceptions of hackers, who creatively adapt extant systems for a variety of reasons. Their motivations can range from positively-inclined desires to find innovative solutions to problems for the benefit of many, to those driven by the desire for personal gain or with destructive goals in mind. While there is no one set of motivations that can describe all hackers, the authors state that “the ‘hacker ethic’ is in one sense essentially apolitical and technically focused, while in another it is subversive and profoundly ideological” (18). There is an ethic or “latent ideology” amongst hackers “born of a mix of technical pragmatism and heartfelt desire to ‘improve the world” (33) which can be seen in Google’s unofficial motto of “Don’t be evil,” as well as “A Declaration of the Independence of Cyberspace,” written by John Perry Barlow in 1996. This ethic is likewise at work in Snowden’s ideology, thinking, and decision-making process and embeds him within the counterpublic of hackers, which allows for a different interpretation of his parrhesia as it relates to ideas of public within cyberspace. The speed and dispersed nature of cyberspace make it difficult to theorize or control. Betz and Stevens acknowledge that, “neither a wholly social, nor a narrowly mechanistic view of cyberspace sufficiently captures its operations…cyberspace is an assemblage of multiple actors, whose relations are never permanently stabilised” (38). Conventional power relations, too, are destabilized in this environment, as “any two actors are connected in time by only a few milliseconds, the time it takes for digital electronic communications to travel from one to the other, almost anywhere in the world. This is what the US military and others call ‘netspeed’. Netspeed is nearly light-speed and to all intents and purposes collapses spatial distance to zero” (39). The velocity of information that can be transmitted across great distances is one of the aspects of cyberspace that alters the activities of both resistance and power, and the effects of this upon power relations is examined by Stevens and Betz. The speed at which information travels in an almost instantaneous fashion… …has obvious ramifications for the exercise of some forms of power: actions initiated in one location can have instantaneous effects in another, regardless of their geographical separation. While this allows state actors access to a greater range of globally distributed targets amenable to coercion of various forms, it also facilitates the reverse dynamic, in which spatially distant others—particularly those outside a state’s immediate jurisdiction—can exercise power against the wishes of the state with little or no chance of being traced or interdicted by that state. (39)
156 The interconnection of myriad, and in many cases untraceable users, “irrevocably alters the traditional dynamics of cause and effect” (40). Because both state and non-state actors have access to cyberspace, conventional power relations, while still present, do not maintain predictable holds on power nor can they predict actions of resistance that may occur so that “civic networks, structured around the tools, opportunities and forums of cyberspace, can outflank and on occasions replace the hierarchical structures of the industrial period…[so that]… online networks [have the ability] to organise and mobilise resistance activities, ostensibly beyond the reach of states and their sluggish bureaucracies and systems of control” (49-50). The changes in these relationships are apparent in the resistance of Snowden, who was able to engage in parrhesiastic action in ways that were not easy for the state to trace quickly enough to thwart his efforts to expose the NSA’s mass surveillance activities. From the position of viewing cyberspace as a public sphere or the digital equivalent, Stevens and Betz note that interaction between diverse groups of people has become so ingrained in cyberspace that questions of access (while still present) are almost superseded by those of rhetorical attention. In the current digital age, though access remains a salient issue, “it has rapidly become possible for everybody to talk to everybody else, in principle, as much as they would want. Thus the paradigm changed from ‘who can I talk to?’ to ‘how can I get people to listen?’” (112). Additionally, cyberspace “makes data easier to steal and harder to conceal,” a point illustrated by Snowden, Chelsea Manning, and WikiLeaks that indicate a reality where all data is potentially leakable (136). The implications for the kind of state whose information is leaked is important, too, and while the gap between Internet freedom and national security is complex, “the challenge is greater for repressive states than it is for liberal and transparent ones. Transparency is awkward for democracies; it is anathema to autocracies” (138). The tension between state security, which is largely stored and communicated about via digital means, and the ever-present possibility that this data is not wholly secure, is an issue that comes to light through the actions of Snowden, as well as other sites such as Wikileaks, which specifically accepts anonymous leaks and makes that information available to anyone. This forced transparency for the state apparatus brings into question what democracy even is in this context and points to the possibility of parrhesia as a means of enacting democratic practices outside of the long reach of state security and discipline. Part of this alteration is in the area of mass surveillance, which may be used by the agencies of a state in order to monitor its competitors, allies, and/or citizens. While some level of surveillance is expected—and some would argue necessary—for state security and policing, mass surveillance of a state’s own citizens has often been associated with highly repressive regimes, as exemplified in the book 1984 by George Orwell. In the emerging field of Surveillance Studies, David Lyon defines surveillance as the “processes in which special note is taken of certain human behaviours that go well beyond idle curiosity” and that “it is the focused, systematic and routine attention to personal details for the purpose of influence, management, protection, or direction” (Surveillance 14-15). While surveillance occurred in the pre-digital age, new technologies both increase and expand the range and types of surveillance practices that are possible. Though the post-9/11 culture of fear has led to a greater exigency for surveillance, technological innovations have worked alongside that drive to make new tactics possible. Power relations are inherent to surveillance practices and the study of those practices must include analysis of those relationships. As might be predicted, surveillance “usually involves relations of power in which watchers are privileged…[and]…whatever the purpose of surveillance, to influence, manage, protect, or direct, some kind of power relations are
157 involved…power is generated and expressed by surveillance” (Surveillance 15, 23). Lyon cites Deleuze, agreeing that increasingly, surveillance practices are more focused upon control than discipline so that in our current “surveillance society,” it seems as though “the gaze is ubiquitous, constant, and inescapable” (Surveillance 25). Surveillance, while it tends to serve state interests, often occurs across national boundaries and is constituted by both state and commercial surveillance collection sites that often work in conjunction to create profiles on specific types of people. Lyon terms the complex inter-connected systems of surveillance that are at play in current times a “surveillance assemblage,” connoting the disparate and widespread practices and institutions that overlap and work in conjunction. Looking specifically at the Internet and cyberspace, while there may be more opportunities for non-state agents to communicate and participate in democratic practices, from the perspective of surveillance, there are also greater possibilities for control. The Snowden leak demonstrates the supportive relationship between Big Data practices and surveillance and illustrates the ways in which widespread surveillance is changing, or has changed since 9/11. Though government agencies responded to the Snowden leak by downplaying the importance of metadata or its ability to decrease privacy to the everyday citizen, it can (and is) used to track the movements of particular targets and can reveal types of relationships between different users. This has significant implications, “one is that contemporary surveillance expands exponentially—it renders ordinary everyday lives increasingly transparent to large organizations. The corollary, however, is that organizations engaged in surveillance are increasingly invisible to those whose data are garnered and used” (Lyon “Big Data” 4). This type of surveillance is prompted by national security, “particularly through efforts to preempt security breaches by a form of anticipatory surveillance” whereby, through a vague form of intelligence gathering that the Department of Homeland Security describes as “connecting the dots,” potential crimes might be stopped before they even occur. It is also interesting that social media sites emerged around the same time as responses to 9/11 converged to create what Lyons calls the “surveillance state,” and the data from these sites is used for both commercial and security purposes by a process known as “datafication.” Preemptive data collection—collecting large amounts of data even before agencies know how the data will be used—has been a growing trend in recent years, especially in security and law enforcement. While there has been protest and international public outcry at some of these practices, “any countervailing focus on the contribution Big Data may make to reducing democratic freedoms, reconfiguring privacy and indeed, redefining the role of information in contemporary life, is still muted and marginalized” (Lyon “Big Data” 4). The reason for the lack of wide-scale protest to these practices is that they are occurring within a cultural context that tends to celebrate, rather than critique, Big Data collection and use. However, the implications for problems arising in the domain of law and justice are significant, where the practice of preemptive surveillance supersedes fundamental rights of privacy and due process. Though current legal systems are purportedly based upon ideas of innocence until otherwise proven guilty, and where after the fact punishments are the ways in which justice is served, a transition to a system “based on future-oriented preventative measures is of huge import” (Lyon “Big Data” 5). The discussion of Big Data and current surveillance tactics demonstrate the reaches of power, especially in the post-9/11 environment where fear of violent infiltration by terrorists overrides concerns for privacy, freedom, and individual liberty. Even Mark Poster, whose views of cyberspace offer an optimistic approach to the possibilities of freedom in that area cautions
158 against this type of justification for limiting rights. Though written before 9/11, Poster advises against the use of “terrorism” as the reasoning behind limitations on freedom saying: In the case of encryption, the United States government seeks to secure its borders from "terrorists" who might use the Internet and thereby threaten it. But the dangers to the population are and have always been far greater from this state apparatus itself than from so-called terrorists. More citizens have been improperly abused, had their civil rights violated, and much worse by the government than by terrorists. In fact terrorism is in good part an effect of government propaganda; it serves to deflect attention from governmental abuse toward a mostly imagined, highly dangerous outside enemy. If the prospects of democracy on the Internet are viewed in terms of encryption, then the security of the existing national government becomes the limit of the matter: what is secure for the nation-state is taken to mean true security for everyone, a highly dubious proposition. (202) Despite these warnings, and against the protests of many civil rights advocates, the United States government and the NSA chose to enact many wide-ranging surveillance programs in the wake of 9/11, citing the prevention of terrorist attacks as their justification. While American citizens were at least peripherally aware of the implications of the Patriot Act, and while most of them might have agreed that surveillance on “suspected terrorists” or other (often ethnically or religiously) profiled individuals warranted specific types of scrutiny, they were not cognizant of the extent to which metadata was collected upon domestic networks, nor the degree to which governmental agencies had access to their personal information. This is precisely the state of affairs that confronted Snowden, first as a CIA employee and later as a contractor for various NSA sites, where he had access to classified information that demonstrated beyond doubt that the United States government was conducting widespread surveillance upon targets they had claimed were immune from such invasive tactics. These parties included foreign allies and domestic citizens alike, and showed that the government had many partners in this far-reaching surveillance apparatus that included huge telecommunications corporations such as Verizon, Google, Facebook, Apple, and others. Snowden claims that he brought his concerns about the legalities of these practices to his co-workers and superiors, and was told to either ignore it or was himself ignored. Faced with the massive structure of state- sponsored surveillance upon millions of unsuspecting people, and confronted with either apathy or vague threats encouraging his silence, he instead chose to act in a way that would bring direct, profound, and irrevocable international attention to these issues, though at great risk to himself. While Snowden chose his actions understanding fully what was at stake in regard to his safety and security, he also specifically chose how to make these disclosures public. Chapter 9 will examine the rhetorical choices made by Snowden and those who helped him (e.g., Greenwald and Poitras), as well as the impact that his information had upon various audiences. The networked activity of Snowden at the time of his public revelations, as well as the ongoing consequences of that information as it continues to circulate, is the focus of the next chapter, which will apply a rhetorical theory of parrhesia to Snowden’s actions, as well as the rhetorically constructed texts that resulted from those acts of risky resistance.
159 Chapter 9 Truth Telling in Digital Environments: Edward Snowden and the NSA
Edward Snowden, who came forth as the person responsible for the NSA leaks that created international outrage in June of 2013, offers a prime example of how parrhesia might look or be enacted within digital culture, both because of how he chose to execute his parrhesiastic actions, and how those actions were rhetorically packaged and distributed to wider audiences. The way power manifests in digital space is different from past eras, too, so resistance to that power will likewise reflect the new exigencies, affordances, and constraints of that space. That is not to say that “power comes first” in this equation; in fact, it might be argued that the mass surveillance tactics discussed in Chapter 8 are in place precisely because institutions believed that they needed to adapt to and more fully control the relatively free-range spaces of the Internet in the pre-9/11 era. As Foucault notes, “resistance comes first, and resistance remains superior to the forces of the process; power relations are obliged to change with the resistance,” thus we might read the surveillance state of the present in terms of power reshaping in reaction to acts of resistance in the cyberspace of the past (Ethics 167). As described in Chapter 8, Mark Poster, John Perry Barlow, Edward Snowden, and others refer to the “free and unrestrained” atmosphere of the Internet prior to regulations, and especially 9/11, which led to greater control and monitoring of cyberspaces. This surveillance state—ubiquitous, powerful, and internationally pervasive—is precisely what Snowden acted against when he came forward, at great risk to himself, to reveal the truth of NSA activities in June of 2013. How did this revelation work? And what makes Snowden’s act of parrhesia different from other parrhesiastes examined thus far? This chapter will look specifically at how and why Snowden chose to come forward with the information he had, including his own identity, and how this act of parrhesia is one that could only be possible within the affordances of computer aided technologies. I have argued throughout this dissertation that parrhesia exists within a loosely connected system that includes other parrhesiastic actors and actions working in conjunction to form networks of resistance that, when taken together cumulatively, create significant opposition to power. In the case of Snowden and digital spaces, this networked effect is even more pronounced and is apparent in aspects of both production and circulation. That is to say, for Snowden to enact parrhesia, he required multiple actors working from an overlapping set of truth values in order to fully manifest the parrhesiastic act in the first place in the form of others aiding him in the packing and production of his disclosures and, later, for his message to be distributed and circulated required the aid of additional networks of actors. This kind of distributed agency (or as I have called it elsewhere, hybrid subjectivity) allows for diverse types and kinds of agency that may not be possible for an individual acting alone and may itself pose greater potential for acts of resistance to overwhelming forces and institutions of power. In this chapter, I will use the framework of rhetorical parrhesia to examine the actions of Snowden in conjunction with others who helped to actualize his resistance, such as Glenn Greenwald, Laura Poitras, Ewen MacAskill, and later Julian Assange and Sarah Harrison. Using the analytic model outlined in Chapter 5, I will consider Snowden’s specific parrhesiastic actions, showing how these events can be productively understood via a rhetorical theory of parrhesia and the unique set of rhetorical markers that are present in all parrhesiastic events, while also pointing to the ways in which parrhesia manifests differently in digital mediums. As part of that analysis, I will look at the ways different audiences interpreted Snowden, both in the moment and across time, showing how different sets of priorities and truth values alter those
160 perceptions. In examining the networked effects of Snowden’s conduct, I will also examine sites where his actions appear to have made great and lasting impact but with the understanding that the ongoing ramifications of his actions have yet to completely unfold. This analysis may point to the ways that conscious rhetorical action might benefit other sites of parrhesia in the present and future, as the way that parrhesia is circulated may vary based upon delivery method and audience perception. It is my goal in this analysis to offer a way to understand parrhesia in digital spaces, as well as to provide a starting point for discussing acts of risky resistance in our present with a common language that includes rhetorical parrhesia as a central discursive concept.
Parrhesia and Multimodal Revelation The parrhesia displayed by Snowden took a variety of forms, and while this may be viewed as a single “act” it is actually composed of a series of separate but related activities. First, he chose to copy and save the information from the NSA in the first place, even changing jobs and taking a pay cut at one point because he needed further documentation on some NSA programs so that he could conclusively prove their existence (Greenwald). Second, he decided to contact journalists he trusted—namely Laura Poitras and Glenn Greenwald—to aid him in rhetorically packaging the information into reasonable sized pieces for distribution to the public. Third, despite the obvious consequences, he voluntarily elected to make his identity known. At each stage of this, Snowden took risks to his freedom and safety in order to come forward with information that government agencies were conducting hidden, and likely illegal, mass surveillance on unsuspecting millions of citizens. Though he acted alone in the first stage of this process by copying and taking the data, every other step of this operation required the cooperation and support of other likeminded people willing to take significant risks because they, too, believed in the same truths of transparency and accountability that had first driven Snowden. This shows how resistance in general, and parrhesia in particular, can work in accordance with other similar acts motivated by related values so that the parrhesiastic choices of one individual (Snowden) can connect to, inspire, or instigate similar parrhesiastic pursuits by others (e.g., Greenwald and Poitras). On June 1, 2013, Greenwald and Poitras flew to Hong Kong to meet Snowden in person. Though both of them had been in contact with him via encrypted email prior to this time, they needed to meet face-to-face before going public with the information he was able to provide. Poitras’s documentary film, Citizenfour, and Greenwald’s book, No Place to Hide: Edward Snowden, the NSA, and the U.S. Surveillance State, give background and insight into the publicly released news stories and revelations that stunned the world in early June 2013. The multimodal texts themselves, which were comprised of text-based, hyper-linked news stories, as well as accompanying video, provide a site for analysis, but I would argue that these in conjunction with the “behind the scenes” perspective offered in both Citizenfour and Greenwald’s book give additional information about the how, why, and when of these rhetorically constructed texts that are not otherwise available. For that reason, I will focus on these texts primarily in my analysis, as they also contain within them the widely delivered and distributed texts108 that came to comprise what the public knew about Snowden and his revelations at the time.
108 For instance, in Citizenfour, Poitras’s camera footage is what was used in the widely distributed videos of his interview when he disclosed his identity, but her film also shows what he said, felt, and did just prior to that famous interview, so that it gives a more complete picture than the excerpts used for public distribution at the time. Greenwald’s book likewise does this, as
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Parrhesiastic Rhetorical Situation To return to the model we have examined in past chapters, I will show how Snowden’s parrhesiastic acts, which include his collection and disclosure of NSA secret surveillance programs, as well as openly revealing his identity, follow some of the same models for parrhesia that have been analyzed in previous chapters. These include an exigence for parrhesiastic action where a violation of some deeply held truth value has occurred and a kairotic moment arises wherein the parrhesiastes steps forward; the constraint of the rhetor being in a position of significantly less power than the person or institution to which he speaks; and particular kinds of audience reactions that always include some kind of surprise or shock at the transgression of socially agreed-upon boundaries or hierarchies, and then a range of audience responses from identification/valorization to rejection/villainization. Snowden’s disclosures from June 2013 fit all of these criteria, and along with his stated motives, about which he was very forthcoming, categorize his actions as falling within the historic and rhetorical category of parrhesia. The exigence for Snowden’s actions was, broadly speaking, the mass surveillance that he discovered while working for various government intelligence agencies, including the CIA, DIA, and the NSA. This exigence follows the criteria for parrhesiastic action where a deeply held truth value was being infringed upon, as the mass surveillance apparatus violated values of transparency, privacy, freedom, liberty, accountability, and autonomy for the millions of people affected. A lack of privacy has the potential to harm many kinds of human relations and political actions, and it can be said that, “privacy is a core condition of being a free person” (Greenwald 172). These values, along with—arguably—the possibility for democratic action itself were violated by the mass surveillance tactics of the NSA, and these infringements are at the heart of the impetus for Snowden to speak out, but do not, in themselves, constitute the entirety of the exigence for this actions. In addition to the knowledge he had that surveillance was more widespread than anyone would publicly acknowledge, Snowden felt increasingly hopeless that anyone else would come forward or make changes in the programs. Initially hopeful about Barak Obama’s promises for more transparency in government if he were elected, Snowden instead “saw the promise of the Obama administration be betrayed and…in fact, actually advance the things that had been promised to be sort of curtailed and reigned in and dialed back. [Surveillance] actually gets worse” (Citizenfour). Supervisors and co-workers in the NSA also seemed unwilling to do anything about the concerns Snowden brought up, and while he had hoped that going to his superiors or pointing out the possible illegality of some of the surveillance practices would lead to change, it did not. Snowden says that was when “I realized… that I couldn’t wait for a leader to fix these things. Leadership is about acting first and serving as an example for others, not waiting for others to act” (Greenwald 43). In addition to the apathy or subtle threats Snowden received for questioning these practices in his workplace, he also knew that NSA and other intelligence officials were openly lying about the scope of surveillance upon American citizens, which contributed to his understanding that he would have to act in order for the truth to come forward. For instance, in 2012 in a Congressional hearing the NSA director, Keith Alexander, was questioned by Congress about the extent of NSA’s surveillance practices. Alexander answers
it provides the context and longer conversations that then resulted in articles for The Guardian and other news outlets.
162 “no” to all questions about whether the NSA intercepts emails, cell phone data, Google searches, text messages, Amazon.com purchases, or bank records, and claims that the NSA would have to receive a court order to collect this data, saying, “We are not authorized to do it, nor do we do it.” A year later, James Clapper, the director of National Intelligence, also answered in the negative when asked directly, “Does the NSA collect any type of data at all, on millions or hundreds of millions of Americans?” He responded, “No sir… Not wittingly.” Snowden’s information definitively proves that both Alexander and Clapper were lying to Congress and American citizens, as the NSA engaged in all of these activities without any court orders and without the knowledge of the citizens who were spied upon. Snowden specifically mentions in his initial correspondence to Greenwald that he could conclusively prove these claims made by intelligence officials were incorrect, and the deceitful public claims by officials also contributed to the exigence to speak out for Snowden. Additionally, those within the NSA with positions of oversight who had attempted to speak out prior to Snowden’s disclosure were met with threats and their concerns not heeded, which also added to the growing pressure for Snowden to do something about the situation. Almost a year before Snowden’s disclosures in July 2013, William Binney, a former crypto- mathematician for NSA, was the keynote speaker at the H.O.P.E. (Hackers on Planet Earth) conference about the wide-scale surveillance practices he witnessed while he was a high-level employee there. He reported that the way monitoring occurred within the NSA changed “a few days, no more than a week after 9/11 that [the NSA] decided to begin actively spying on everyone in this country.” In response, he and four of his co-workers went to Nancy Pelosi, the House Intelligence Committee, and other highly placed officials to express their concerns about the constitutionality of what was being done at the NSA. Binney explains that they were “trying to get them to come around, to being constitutionally acceptable, and take it in to the courts and have the courts' oversight of it, too. So we naively kept thinking that that could, that could happen, and it never did.” Instead, Binney and his four co-workers were simultaneously raided “to keep us quiet, threaten us, you know,” and in Binney’s case at least, armed agents raided him with their guns drawn (HOPE 9 Keynote). The cultural exigencies of mass surveillance, combined with events that demonstrated that officials who knew what was happening were willing to lie about it and those who weren’t would be threatened into silence, contributed to Snowden’s decision to collect and disclose what he knew about NSA programs. However, the specific kairotic moment was dependent upon the ability for multiple actors to converge in order to reveal the information to the public. Snowden had actually attempted to contact and talk with Greenwald for months, but because Greenwald was not aware of the extent of Snowden’s information, he did not listen to the anonymous person who contacted him on email (code named “Cincinnatus”) and suggested that he install particular encryption software so that they could have a secure line of communication.109 After he had access to some of the data (as did Poitras) and understood what kind of intelligence leak they were dealing with, Greenwald and Poitras flew to Hong Kong to meet with Snowden, and after talking with him, going over documents, and figuring out a plan to divulge this information to the public, they still had to deal with administrative and legal red tape at The Guardian, which was reticent at first to publish such controversial material. The Washington Post, with which
109 It was not until much later, after Poitras contacted him, that Greenwald realized he had almost lost the biggest story of his life because he did not attend to a relatively minor technological upgrade.
163 Poitras had ties, had a specific protocol they typically followed where the White House is given information first before it is published, a process that can take an indeterminate amount of time, and in that time, Snowden could have been found and arrested, or worse.110 In this case, then, the kairotic moment was not so much specific to larger scale cultural forces or a situation where Snowden needed to “seize a moment” from a more powerful party, but rather had to do with the time it took to assemble multiple people in the same place (a hotel room in Hong Kong) and navigate bureaucratic and legal red tape to allow these stories to go to press. The constraints of the situation within which Snowden operated are the overwhelming forces of power that had, because of the mass surveillance it had at hand, spread to nearly every corner of human interaction that involves communications technology111 so that “private conversation” has become almost impossible. In addition to being able to monitor such vast amounts of data, this same force of power also has the ability to punish and cause harm to those who oppose it, a reality made clear time and time again. The constraints under which Snowden worked were clearly ones that required him to accept that he might lose his life, and at the very least would likely lose his freedom. Snowden was aware from the very beginning of the kinds of forces he was up against, and he expressed that in documents passed to Greenwald even prior to their meeting. In a file called “README_FIRST” that outlined who Snowden was (including his name) he gave an overview to Greenwald about what the documents in his archive contained and why they were so urgent. In it, Snowden explains some of the reasons for his actions, including the belief that “citizenship carries with it a duty to first police one’s own government before seeking to correct others” and states that he believes we now live in a time where “we suffer a government that only grudgingly allows limited oversight, and refuses accountability when crimes are committed” (31). At the end of this document, he shows that he knows exactly how powerful the institutions are that he resists, is fully aware of the risks he is taking, and also that his reasons for doing so outweigh any reticence he might have. Snowden states: I understand that I will be made to suffer for my actions, and that the return of this information to the public marks my end. I will be satisfied if the federation of secret law, unequal pardon, and irresistible Executive powers that rule the world that I love are revealed for even an instant. If you seek to help, join the open source community and
110 For a more in-depth discussion of the process and obstacles to investigative journalism in America, especially for issues that question national practices and security, see Glenn Greenwald’s book, No Place to Hide. 111 While the surveillance discussed in this dissertation, as well as much of the public debate that has ensued, deals largely with the capacity to monitor Internet communications and metadata that is connected with communication devices, it is also shown in Citizenfour, and indeed in court cases involving these tactics, that it is possible to use cell phones as listening devices for surveillance purposes, even if they are not on. Greenwald admits that he did not at first believe that the government had the ability or the jurisdiction to use remotely activated cell phones to listen in on conversations occurring not only on the phone, but in the room itself, or that this can be done remotely and in a way that the user has no knowledge of it. However, this is and has been the case for quite some time, and a federal judge ruled the practice legal in 2006 when the FBI was investigating New York mobsters using these “roving bugs” (i.e., the mobsters’ cell phones) for surveillance purposes (Greenwald 37).
164 fight to keep the spirit of the press alive and the internet free. I have been to the darkest corners of the government, and what they fear is light. (32) This description demonstrates both the type of constraints within which Snowden worked, where the forces of power he confronted were both overwhelming and dangerous, but also that he was nevertheless willing to engage with those powers parrhesiasticaly, in a bold, open act of resistance, regardless of the consequences. This marks the type of constraint common to all parrhesiastic acts where the rhetor speaks out regardless of the consequences and does so from the position of having significantly less power than those against whom he speaks. In this case, that power was ubiquitous and compelling, having the capability to permeate nearly all channels of communication in order to thwart any attempt to challenge its dominance, even before those challenges occur. If Snowden had not been as technically savvy as he was and understood how to encrypt his communication prior to going public, or if he had made more obvious moves toward criticizing the surveillance apparatus prior to leaving work for “medical reasons” in late May of 2013, it is possible that his information would have never come to light. As Snowden knew, and as I discussed in Chapter 8, when all information is gathered about everyone and is accessible retroactively in an attempt to preemptively avoid challenges to power in the first place, it creates an environment within which resistance becomes almost impossible. These constraints and forces of power are enough to silence many who may internally oppose it, or may make effective resistance appear futile, and it is apparent that this is at least partially the purpose of the surveillance apparatus. As Greenwald states near the beginning of his book, there are certain populations who are first subjected to the invasiveness of surveillance, but even those who avoid its direct assault are still affected in ways that curtail resistance or even critique. In this model, …initially, it is always the country’s dissidents and marginalized people who bear the brunt of the surveillance, leading those who support the government or are merely apathetic to mistakenly believe they are immune. And history shows that the mere existence of a mass surveillance apparatus, regardless of how it is used, is in itself sufficient to stifle dissent. A citizenry that is aware of always being watched quickly becomes a compliant and fearful one. (3). Snowden, more aware than most of the level of monitoring that he and everyone else were under, worked within these constraints to nevertheless defy the forces of power that seek to control and silence those who would dissent. The position of “speaking up” to power marks his actions as parrhesiastic, as do the reasons he states for doing so. In the parrhesiastic rhetorical situation, I have noted previously that audience responses always fall on a continuum, but that one common response is shock, surprise, or discomfort, caused largely by the act of social transgression that by necessity occurs when parrhesia is enacted. In addition to surprise, audiences may then experience a range of emotions from identification or valorization if they hold similar or overlapping truths in high priority, or they may react by wholly rejecting the parrhesiastic rhetor and respond with emotions such as anger, outrage, irritation, or a host of other non-supportive responses. I contend that audience reactions differ so greatly because of the truth claims being spoken to and from by the parrhesiastic rhetor, where those who hold corresponding values as a high priority will respond by identifying in a variety of ways, whereas those who hold different, or at least differently prioritized, values will respond by dis-identifying or rejecting the position of the parrhesiastes. For instance, Snowden’s acts are motivated by strong beliefs in qualities such as transparency, freedom, liberty, accountability, and expression, which he believes in strongly enough to risk his own life to
165 defend. In a model of rhetorical parrhesia, then, we can predict that audience members who have similar values, and who prioritize those values over other competing ones, are likely to identify with Snowden and feel inspired by his actions, and likewise experience anger, outrage, and shock at the same institutions against which Snowden spoke out. However, audience members who value safety and security more highly, or who already identify with established narratives about the need for surveillance for national security purposes, are more likely to reject Snowden’s ethos and view him as a traitor or possible threat to the values they cherish (e.g., security, safety, etc.). It should be pointed out that there is not a hard binary between the values of these audiences—all audiences would likely say that they value security and freedom, safety and transparency. Rather, this difference in audience response arises in the way that these values are prioritized as well as the strategies that various people believe will actualize those values. For example, one person might say that they value freedom above all other values, but if they believe that the way to manifest that value in their lived lives is through government surveillance that will ostensibly provide protection from outside attack, then they may not identify with Snowden and reject him as an ethical speaker. However, for a different person who believes that freedom is a high priority truth claim, and who does not trust that government surveillance is the optimal strategy to manifest that value, Snowden is likely to be viewed in positive regard as an ethical, courageous speaker who came forward despite risks to his freedom and safety. In the case of Snowden, the role of audience in determining possible consequences for parrhesia also becomes more direct, as some of Snowden’s audience members included those with the power to have him arrested, extradited, or worse. On June 14, 2013 the United States Justice Department charged him with two counts of violating the 1917 Espionage Act (which does not differentiate between leaking government information to the public and selling it to enemies of the state) and stealing government property (Finn and Horwitz).112 Later, on June 22nd, the U.S State Department revoked his passport so that he was unable to travel freely and was stuck in the Moscow airport for 39 days. In Snowden’s case, his audience was so wide and encompassing that it, by necessity, included people who were in the very positions of power he sought to disrupt and who had the ability to cause him direct harm if they had been able to apprehend him. However, as all parrhesiastes, he would speak his message regardless of audience reaction, even if that included some of the more powerful members of that audience sending agents after him to arrest or detain him. Greenwald also discusses the perceptions of audiences to the news of Snowden’s disclosures, and that he, personally, had to deal with many of these reactions himself. Because Snowden was unable to safely travel to the United States or other countries for interviews, and because Greenwald was so instrumental in bringing the stories of the NSA surveillance to light in conjunction with Snowden, he comments on the way the stories were perceived, especially at first. Greenwald notes that “we113 were amazed at the positive reaction, how substantive the media’s engagement with the revelations appeared to be, and how angry most commentators
112 The charges are not surprising, given that the Obama administration “has shown a particular propensity to go after leakers and has launched more investigations than any previous administration” and is responsible “for bringing six of the nine total indictments ever brought under the 1917 Espionage Act,” with Snowden comprising the seventh (Finn and Horwitz). 113 Greenwald includes himself, Snowden, Poitras, and at times MacAskill, as the group who watched the initial disclosures from Snowden’s hotel room in Hong Kong.
166 were: not at those who brought the transparency but at the extraordinary level of state surveillance we had exposed” (78). Greenwald notes further on in his book that this attitude of outrage at government overstepping legal and ethical boundaries did not last, but at first, at least, it sparked exactly the kind of debate Snowden had hoped to see by taking risks to come forward with his intelligence information. While Snowden wanted his actions to create debate about how surveillance did, and should, work, he was also prepared to deliver his message even if this was not the outcome, which is typical in parrhesiastic rhetoric. The context for Snowden’s acts of parrhesia follows the general structure for the parrhesiastic rhetorical situation that has been examined in other settings. These include: 1) the exigence for the parrhesiastic act will arise because a strongly held truth value is being violated and it is possible for the rhetor to utilize a particular kairotic moment for his or her own ends. In this case, the truth values violated were issues such as transparency, freedom, expression, liberty, etc., by the mass surveillance of the NSA and that these oversights were not being addressed by other means. 2) The parrhesiastic rhetor will always deal with constraints where he or she will have to “speak up” to powers much greater than the rhetor and where those powers have the ability to enact consequences for speaking out. In the case analyzed here, Snowden clearly operated from a position of much less power than the forces against which he spoke, which had nearly unlimited potential to control and punish not only him, but also potentially millions of other citizens as well. 3) In a parrhesiastic rhetorical situation, the rhetor will speak regardless of the audience’s response, which can include harm to the rhetor. This was clearly the case for Snowden, who was well aware of the risks he took in speaking. The audience in a parrhesiastic situation will often react with surprise and shock, at least initially, a state which was reported by Greenwald when he reflected upon public responses.114 After that initial response, however, audiences will tend to have diverse perceptions based upon their level of identification with the truth values from which the parrhesiastes speaks and may range from valorization to villainization, reactions that are very apparent in the case of Snowden. This last aspect of the parrhesiastic rhetorical situation carries over into the next segment of this discussion, which entails the ongoing effects of Snowden’s actions upon audiences, as well as his perception by those audiences. Unlike a parrhesiastic delivery that occurs as a purely oral performance, Snowden’s parrhesia was enacted in a digital space that allows for both print- based texts and multimedia delivery methods, such as video, to convey his message to a variety of audiences. These texts can be packaged and delivered rhetorically through sites such as news outlet websites, but they are then often picked up by others and circulated in ways that are difficult to predict prior to the fact. This redistribution and circulation affect perceptions of both the parrhesiastic rhetor and his actions across time and place by diverse audiences and thus extend the immediate rhetorical situation indefinitely.
Delivery, Distribution, Circulation As I have argued throughout this work, the medium through which parrhesia is delivered and distributed affects how it is received and by whom. There is overlap here, then, between audience and issues of delivery, distribution, and circulation, which not only affect the perception of Snowden at the time his disclosures came forward, but also continue to influence the ongoing repercussions of his acts as time goes on.
114 Greenwald reports that even he and Poitras were initially “speechless, overwhelmed, stunned” by the information Snowden had given them (29).
167 Snowden was not a writer, nor was he familiar with the rhetorical packaging of information so that the public would be able to understand it clearly, which is one of the several reasons he chose to have Poitras and Greenwald assist him in his parrhesiastic activities. Before meeting Poitras, in encrypted emails Snowden apologizes for the disorganized way he replies to her questions, stating that he is not a writer, and while in the motel in Hong Kong, he tells Greenwald, “I don't have any experience with media, with how this works, so I'm kind of learning as I go.” Because of this, Greenwald says, “Snowden left it up to Laura [Poitras] and me to decide which stories should be reported, in what sequence, and how they would be presented” and was clear that he was relying on their “journalistic judgment to only publish those documents that the public should see and that can be revealed without harm to any innocent people” (52-53). While Snowden is clear that he wants trusted journalists, rather than himself, making choices about what is ethical and safe to release to the public, he also needs the rhetorical skills of Greenwald and Poitras so that his message is heard, understood, and received by audiences. Snowden has significant and sophisticated knowledge about computer systems and navigating those spaces, but unlike most of the other parrhesiastes I have examined, he did not have experience or knowledge of rhetorical means, thus for his parrhesiastic act to have meaning and impact for the necessary audiences, he required the assistance of additional people who did possess those skills. Greenwald describes the connection that the three of them developed over the days they spent together in the Hong Kong hotel room as “a relationship of collaboration, trust, and common purpose” that allowed them to discuss and cooperatively create the articles and video presentations that would be delivered and distributed to wider audiences (82). In this way, Snowden’s parrhesia demonstrates the networked affects of parrhesia even in its construction where he needed multiple actors in order to carry out his plan. The way Snowden, along with Greenwald, Poitras, and eventually MacAskill, chose to deliver Snowden’s information, and especially the disclosure of his identity, was well considered and discussed by them. While Greenwald says that by this time he “had come to trust [his] Guardian colleagues more and more, both editorially and for their bravery,” he still “wanted to vet every edit, large and small, to the piece that would reveal Snowden to the world” (83). While Greenwald focused on the detailed edits for the text-based story, Poitras edited camera footage together for the video that would accompany the article. Greenwald describes watching her finished video for the first time, stating that “Laura’s work was brilliant—the video was spare and the editing superb—but mostly the power lay in hearing Snowden speak for himself” (83). The careful attention to rhetorical details arose from a “sense of personal obligation to Snowden to do justice to his choices” and were critical, not only for the quality or readability of the story itself, but also because Snowden and his team hoped that him coming forward would encourage others to do the same, that “his actions, his refusal to hide and be hunted, would…inspire millions” (Greenwald 83). The collaborative effort between Snowden and the journalists who assisted him shows how parrhesia can be embedded within an immediate network of actors who might work collaboratively in order to produce a rhetorically effective parrhesiastic text,115 and also demonstrates the potential for awareness of the ongoing nature of that networked effect to inspire others to similar acts of parrhesia and resistance against oppressive forces. The multimodal approach to revealing Snowden’s identity served multiple rhetorical purposes, allowing Snowden to speak for himself in the video, and to have others speak about
115 “The Declaration of Rights of Women,” discussed in Chapter 7, was also co-authored and required collaborative effort to create and deliver.
168 him through the text-based article that accompanied the video. The video footage allows audiences to see the embodied Edward Snowden as a real, physically manifest person, who delivers his own message through his voice. This helps to establish his ethos for the millions of people who were wondering who had leaked the shocking revelations about NSA surveillance in the previous four days, and merely hearing about Snowden would not have the same impact. As Porter noted in the discussion of digital delivery cited in Chapter 8, “the body is an important part of rhetorical action… [where] …one’s commitment and the appropriate coordination of one’s thoughts, feelings, and bodily expressions are important to rhetorical effect” (209). Because Snowden was able to tell his own story, from his own body, in his own words, audience members had a different, more nuanced rhetorical experience than if they had only read about him via the words and quotes constructed by others. In the video, Snowden calmly answers questions about the scope of what he knows, and in particular why he has chosen to come forward. In his answers, he creates a sense of identification with audiences by using the second person pronoun, which has the effect of putting his audience rhetorically in his place, thus normalizing his actions rather than presenting them as extreme or unusual. To explain his thinking about why he has disclosed the NSA secrets he discovered, as well as the risks he has incurred by doing so, he says: You can’t come forward against the world’s most powerful intelligence agencies and be completely free from risk because they’re such powerful adversaries that no one can meaningfully oppose them. If they want to get you they’ll get you in time. But at the same time you have to make a determination about what it is that’s important to you and if living unfreely but comfortably is something you’re willing to accept—and I think many of us are, it’s the human nature—you can get up every day, you can go to work, you can collect your large paycheck for relatively little work, against the public interest, and go to sleep at night after watching your shows, but if you realize that that’s the world that you helped create and it’s gonna get worse with the next generation and the next generation who extend the capabilities of this sort of architecture of oppression, you realize that you might be willing to accept any risk, and it doesn’t matter what the outcome is, so long as the public gets to make their own decisions about how that’s applied. In his description, Snowden speaks as one who acted from a sense of responsibility—he was one of the parties helping to make the world a more oppressive place, and because of that, he had to come forward with the information so that the public was aware of what was being done to them, yet also in their name. Because he contextualizes this within a description of everyday life to which many viewers can relate—getting up, going to work, watching television, etc.—it normalizes his choices as those that many people might make. He is also clear about the risks he takes, but because his delivery is always so calm and clear, this knowledge is presented as a stated fact, with the underlying warrant that most of his viewers likely share, that powerful governments like the United States probably can take out any one they choose to and that they will “get you” if you oppose them. Despite this, an “everyday citizen” chose to make a stand based upon ethics and conscience, which supports the idea that other citizens could likewise do the same. Also in the video, Snowden discusses what does cause him fear, and it is not the possibility of being caught, jailed, or killed by the government. Rather, he fears apathy from other citizens, who may, even once they know the extent of the surveillance state under which they live, do nothing about it. He says:
169 The greatest fear that I have regarding the outcome for America of these disclosures is that nothing will change. People will see in the media all of these disclosures, they’ll know the lengths that the government is going to grant themselves powers unilaterally to create greater control over American society and global society but they won’t be willing to take the risks necessary to stand up and fight to change things, to force their representatives to actually take a stand in their interests. While Snowden does hope for change and promotes the courage to “stand up and fight” against these overwhelming forces of power, he does this not by agitating for anarchy or violent revolt, but through the established democratic process. He goes on to claim that in “the months ahead, the years ahead, it’s only going to get worse until eventually there will be a time where policies will change because the only thing that restricts the activities of the surveillance state are policy.” Snowden, here, is also showing himself as a person who believes in the democratic process, as someone who upholds policy change through established means, but who understands that an uninformed citizenry cannot possibly demand changes in systems if they do not know they exist. Still, he believes in the possibility for these practices to be curtailed to a point where they are in accordance with public will but warns that unless policies are in place, any new leader or change could lead to a state of “turnkey tyranny” that citizens could do nothing to oppose. Thus, he calls for action from the citizenry, but encourages them to operate through established means, such as deliberative debate and demanding changes from their legally elected representatives. Because the audience can see and hear Snowden do this, they also have a sense of him as a calm, rational person who has taken great risks, not because he is superhuman, but because he is a citizen. Establishing himself in such a way helps to create identification with the audience and also demonstrates that perhaps they, too, can make a difference in order to change the heavy state of surveillance and potential oppression under which they now live. Because the video is paired with the rhetorically savvy text-based article composed by Greenwald, Poitras, and MacAskill, audiences get a perspective of Snowden from outside, by those who have been interviewing him for days. The first paragraph of the article states fairly straight-forward facts: who Snowden is, where he works, and his age, though it frames this within the context of Snowden being “the individual responsible for one of the most significant leaks in US political history.” Placing him contextually alongside Daniel Ellsberg and Bradley Manning, it is claimed that “Snowden will go down in history as one of America's most consequential whistleblowers,” which reminds the audience again of the importance of his actions within a large historic context. It is also clear from the beginning that Snowden does not want to remain anonymous, that he himself requested that his identity be revealed, and that he has always intended to come forward. The article explains that “from the moment he decided to disclose numerous top-secret documents to the public, he was determined not to opt for the protection of anonymity. ‘I have no intention of hiding who I am because I know I have done nothing wrong,’ he said.” Foregrounding the ethical reasons for Snowden’s disclosures, the article is organized with bold sub-headings that read “I am not afraid, because this is the choice I've made,” “You can't wait around for someone else to act,” both quotes from Snowden himself, followed by the final sub-heading “A matter of principle.” In addition to highlighting the bold, fearless parrhesia with which Snowden has acted, the organizational strategies themselves also convey this deep commitment to ethicality. The overall effect of hearing Snowden speak in his own words—clearly, articulately, calmly—about the chilling effects of mass surveillance and his decision to give up his position of privilege and a relatively easy life, combined with the written article, which highlights his
170 fearlessness and courage, creates the rhetorical image of Snowden as an “everyday hero.” He is at once very much like his audience members but has had the courage to act against overwhelming power despite the risk, because it was the right, ethical thing to do. This multimodal approach to delivering the message of Snowden’s parrhesiastic self-disclosure works to do exactly what Snowden and Greenwald state they would like to see happen—spark debate and inspire others to come forward—because it presents Snowden, not as superhuman or disproportionately endowed with amazing virtues, but rather as an everyday citizen who was merely doing his duty to speak out against injustices that were too grave to ignore. The delivery methods chosen to present Snowden’s self disclosure show the possibilities for parrhesia in digital environments where messages can be presented using the affordances of both text and orality at the same time, but unlike historic oral delivery, digital parrhesiastic messages can remain as extant artifacts that can then be distributed and circulated more widely. Snowden and the journalists who worked with him chose their avenues of distribution carefully, and though there were some concerns by The Guardian and The Washington Post about the potential national and international impact of running the articles about the NSA surveillance programs, these stories did run after a delay of only a day or two, and they were quickly followed by multiple appearances, especially by Greenwald, on news shows broadcast all over the globe. When Snowden’s identity was revealed, “several hundred thousand people posted the link to their Facebook accounts in the first several days alone. Almost three million people watched the interview on YouTube. Many more saw it at the Guardian online. The overwhelming response was shock and inspiration at Snowden’s courage” (Greenwald 84). The scope of the distribution and circulation possibilities for Snowden’s disclosure—which itself was perhaps the most parrhesiastic aspect of this event—would not have been possible in either the medium of oral delivery or print. This points to the greater potentials for parrhesiastic messages to spread quickly and broadly, almost instantaneously, to extremely diverse and dispersed audiences, and even to inspire faster and broader acts of resistance amongst some audience members who are witness to a parrhesastic event. As Sheridan et al. discuss regarding rhetorical velocity, “success is a function of multiple composers, multiple audiences, multiple compositions, multiple technologies, multiple channels of circulation—the convergence of many heterogeneous elements,” a phenomena certainly at play in the ways in which news of Snowden’s disclosures and identity spread across the Internet (107). While there were rhetorical choices made in the initial delivery of Snowden’s information, it was also the hope of Snowden, Greenwald, and those who worked with them that these messages would be picked up by others and circulated broadly. Because the interview was available freely online through The Guardian and YouTube, it was easy to post and repost the information on blogs and social media sites, thus contributing to the widespread understanding of what Snowden had revealed. Still, as Sheridan et al. posit, the original composers of these messages still have agency, thus the careful attention paid to all of the details of the original text published by The Guardian as edited by Greenwald and Poitras. It is also interesting to examine the various recompositions of Snowden’s messages that continue to circulate and can appeal to a variety of audiences. While various “full length” versions of his message are available as interviews, or in texts by Greenwald and Poitras I have already discussed, these in-depth treatments of complex subjects may not, by themselves, be rhetorically effective for all audiences. To that end, many shorter versions of Snowden’s messages and embodied presence, which has come to be associated with the traits he displayed through his parrhesia, circulate online at any given time, often in the form of images and memes.
171 Sheridan et al. point out that some texts, such as short and easily circulated messages like bumper stickers, buttons, Twitter messages—or in this discussion memes—“privilege circulation almost to the exclusion of other concerns” and for this type of text to be successful it must be “short and easy to remember” as well as attention-grabbing or surprising in some way (61).
Figure 9 Screenshot of a Google Image search for “Edward Snowden meme”
As Laurie Gries explains, circulation matters because “an event is never something that can be fully captured in our analyses and interpretations, as an event is a process of inexplicable becoming…[and is]…always unfolding into an unknown future” which leads to a state where “an event is thus also a process of unpredictable becoming” (334).116 In this sense, Snowden’s parrhesiastic acts and identity as a parrhesiastes is always becoming and never foreclosed, and it continues to circulate online in a variety of genres, texts, and mediums. The possibilities for distributing and circulating texts online allow for parrhesiastic actions to have much faster, wider, and ongoing visibility, as well as a much larger potential area of effect than they could in either the mediums of orality or print. Digital delivery, distribution, and circulation allow for broader and more diverse audiences to have access to these parrhesiastic messages and continue to recompose and recirculate them indefinitely. In this way, the effects of Snowden’s parrhesia may never be fully “completed,” nor is it likely that records of these acts will disappear from the public archive. Unlike orality, digital delivery allows for an extant artifact to remain after the event has passed, while still offering many of the same affordances of embodied delivery associated with oratory that print alone cannot provide. Additionally, digital spaces contribute to ease of distribution and circulation, allowing for much
116Gries examined the circulation of the Obama “Hope” image, remade here with Snowden.
172 wider audience access to parrhesiastic texts that they can then see, hear, recompose, circulate, or otherwise disperse throughout cyberspace at will. Because of these factors, parrhesia in digital spaces offers different types of potentialities than texts delivered in oral or print mediums, and seemingly combines many of the affordances of both.
Ethos, Logos, Pathos: Classic Appeals in Digital Spaces As many theorists (e.g., Foucault, Henderson, Kennedy, Hauser) have asserted, ethos is perhaps the strongest appeal implicated in parrhesia, as the rhetor, by the nature of the risk parrhesia entails, embodies qualities of courage, bravery, boldness, and fearlessness. The fact that the parrhesiastic rhetor is willing to risk life and safety in order to speak supports the veracity of the message spoken, as the parrhesiastes speaks in service of deeply help truth values that are more essential than typical concerns of personal security. In digital spaces, with the affordances of both orality and print at the rhetor’s disposal, ethos might be constructed using strategies of both mediums, where the rhetor can be seen and heard as in oral delivery, and words also chosen carefully and read internally by the audience, as in print delivery. As I pointed out above, in Snowden’s identity disclosure, concerns about his ethos were critical in the construction of the texts used to accomplish this goal. By using multimodal digital mediums, Snowden’s ethos was presented through both embodied, spoken delivery from Snowden himself, as well as observed and described by those who witnessed his actions from the outside. This means of establishing ethos—from both within and without, and by both oral and print delivery—allows for a more nuanced, complex representation of ethos than either medium would allow on its own, a complexity that would not be possible without the affordances of digital technologies. As discussed in Chapter 5, ethos is traditionally comprised of three parts: arête (virtue), eunoia (goodwill), and phronesis (practical wisdom), all of which work in conjunction with the other traditional appeals of logos and pathos to establish the credibility, logic, and the persuasive appeal of a speaker. None of these appeals works alone or as an isolated aspect; rather, all of these components work together in a holistic manner to create rhetorically effective appeals that work in complex, multivalent ways. However, for the sake of analysis, it is helpful to examine these aspects of ethos one by one, though all the time keeping in mind that they are not really wholly separable from one another. Snowden displays particular virtues (arête) with which he is often associated, including bravery, courage, honesty, etc. Snowden himself never describes his personality using these words—in fact, if anything he attempts to downplay the heroic aspects of his actions and instead presents them as the normalized, if atypical, acts of an everyday citizen. If anything, this actually increases the sense of his virtue as also including humility, modesty, and self-awareness, as well as making him easier to identity with for audience members. These virtues, however, when combined with the externalized observations of others gives a broader picture of arête as applied to Snowden. While Snowden himself may not believe that he is exceptional or out of the ordinary, Greenwald is clearly impressed with Snowden’s ethos and willingness to take such huge risks in service of standing up against oppressive forces and sees this courage as not only commendable, but also as holding the potential to inspire others to act similarly. He says, “Snowden had defied the intimidation [of the government] as directly as possible. Courage is contagious. I knew that he could rouse so many people to do the same” (84). Greenwald and Poitras were clearly moved by the arête of Snowden themselves. Shortly after meeting Snowden in person for the first time and spending hours questioning him, Greenwald describes the effect, saying:
173 …his courage was contagious: Laura and I vowed to each other repeatedly and to Snowden that every action we would take and every decision we would make from that point forward would honor his choice. I felt a duty to report the story in the spirit that had animated Snowden’s original act: fearlessness rooted in the conviction of doing what one believes is right, and a refusal to be intimidated or deterred by baseless threats from malevolent officials eager to conceal their own actions…all of Snowden’s claims were authentic and his motives were considered and genuine. (51) The strength of Snowden’s virtues of bravery, courage, and fearlessness are inspirational enough that they inspire both Greenwald and Poitras to likewise take risks and to “take on” some of those qualities themselves117 in the manner in which they reported on Snowden. Because they were personally moved, they had reason to believe that others would be moved by Snowden’s courage, too, and that this would perhaps inspire other potential whistleblowers to have the courage to come forward and speak up. Another aspect of Snowden’s arête is his apparent calm stability under pressure, which is viewable to audiences who watch the videos of interviews with him, and is also described by Greenwald. During the five hours of questioning on the day that Greenwald met Snowden in person, he described him as “almost always stoic, calm, matter-of-fact” (47). Greenwald found Snowden’s peace in the face uncertainty and danger, which continued through their time together in Hong Kong, “deeply affecting.” Greenwald describes Snowden’s demeanor, saying: I have never seen him display an iota of regret or fear or anxiety. He explained unblinkingly that he had made his choice, understood the possible consequences, and was prepared to accept them… He exuded an extraordinary equanimity when talking about what the US government might do to him. The sight of this twenty-nine-year-old young man responding this way to the threat of decades, or life, in a super-max prison—a prospect that, by design, would scare almost anyone into paralysis—was deeply inspiring. (51) In addition to finding Snowden’s calm and stability moving, Greenwald also realized that these qualities of Snowden’s ethos would make it more difficult for him to be dismissed or criticized on the basis of personality traits in the media. Greenwald explains that, “often, whistle-blowers like Snowden are demonized as loners or losers, acting not out of conscience but alienation and frustration at a failed life. Snowden was the opposite: he had a life filled with the things people view as most valuable,” including stable relationships, a lucrative career, family ties, and wide prospects for success in his future (47). That he was willing to give up all of these markers of
117 I do not mean to imply that Greenwald and Poitras did not already possess courage to take risks prior to meeting Snowden—they did, which is why he chose them to help disseminate his story. Poitras explains at the beginning of Citizenfour that, since 2006, she had been on “a secret watchlist after making a film about the Iraq War. In the following years I was detained and interrogated at the US border dozens of times,” and yet she continued to make films exposing abuses of power, including one about Guantanamo and the war on terror, and Citizenfour, which she considers the third in a trilogy about post-9/11 America. Greenwald, a former constitutional lawyer, also had a history of investigative journalism into controversial topics of institutional power imbalances in the name of “national defense” and defending the actions of whistleblowers such as Chelsea Manning.
174 privilege and security spoke to the depth of conviction he had and also made it harder for media or government officials to dismiss his allegations as the ravings of someone unstable. His clear goodwill for others (eunoia) is also apparent in his words and motivations for coming forward at such great risk to himself. One of the major truth values at stake in Snowden’s decision to speak out is intellectual freedom and freedom of expression. In Citizenfour, Snowden explains that the current surveillance state “limits the boundaries of…intellectual exploration” and that he is “more willing to risk imprisonment or any other negative outcome personally than I am willing to risk the curtailment of my intellectual freedom and that of those around me, whom I care for equally as I do for myself.” Given Snowden’s vast knowledge of encryption methods and his ability to communicate online without being detected by current methods, his choice was clearly not about only his own privacy or intellectual freedom. Rather, he feels this value as extending to all people, to an interconnected system of which he is a part. For this, Snowden is willing to risk his own safety and freedom to help insure or protect the freedoms of those around him, whom he cares for equally to himself so that it feels good to him “in my human experience to know that I can contribute to the good of others.” This sentiment certainly establishes eunoia, showing that Snowden is a speaker with goodwill toward his audience and the willingness to act in ways that risk his own safety and freedom on their behalf. Throughout the interviews with Snowden, he maintains that mass surveillance and government monitoring are issues that need to be brought before the public, and that they require public deliberation which requires knowledge of the surveillance programs to begin with. Because this knowledge was not coming to light by other means, Snowden chose to step forward and take those risks himself, but this is contextualized as part of his role as a citizen, which hearkens back to traditional notions of parrhesia within a democracy where citizens had a duty to speak truth when doing so was for the good of the polis. Snowden knew from the beginning that he would come forward and openly acknowledge that he was the one who leaked the NSA surveillance program information, and in Citizenfour he explains to Ewen MacAskill why he chooses to do this and how his actions pertain to the public good. Speaking to a hypothetical “you” that represents government power, Snowden explains: These are public issues. These are not my issues, you know, these are everybody's issues. I'm not afraid of you, you know, you're not gonna bully me into silence like you've done to everybody else, and if no body else is gonna do it I will. And hopefully when I'm gone, whatever you do to me, there will be somebody else who will do the same thing. It will be the sort of Internet principle you know, of the Hydra: you can stop one person but there is gonna be seven more of us. This expression of eunoia, of goodwill toward the public as an active and engaged part of that public, is an aspect of Snowden’s ethos that is apparent in many of his interviews and quoted commentary. Snowden describes his desire to publicly reveal his identity saying, “I don't want to hide on this and skulk around, I don't think I should have to… I think it is powerful to come out and be like look I'm not afraid and I don't think other people should [be] either.” In this way, Snowden is not only willing to come forward, but is also hoping that his revelation may inspire others in similar positions to speak out, those who may know something is happening that is not legal or ethically correct, but who are afraid to speak. He explains the changing nature of power made possible by digital surveillance and that this issue is not just about him, but about everyone it affects. Speaking to and about American citizens, he says, “we all have a stake in this, this is our country and the balance of power between the citizenry and the government is becoming that of the ruling and the ruled as opposed to actually, you know, the elected and the electorate.” In
175 addition to establishing goodwill toward the people he sees himself as part of, this also invokes a subtle call to action to others who are likewise part of that public—if Snowden can take a stand, then others can, too. Snowden also positions himself as engendering phronesis, the practical wisdom and knowledge that establishes him as an authority on the subjects he speaks about, as well as having the wisdom to know that he had to act upon this knowledge in an ethical manner. In his interview with Greenwald, Snowden describes his work positions in such a way that it is clear he knows what he is talking about and he establishes credibility with his audience as an expert, saying, “I work for Booz Allen Hamilton as an infrastructure analyst for NSA in Hawaii… I've been a system engineer, system administrator, uh... senior advisor, for the Central Intelligence Agency, solutions consultant and a telecommunications information systems officer” (Citizenfour). When asked what level of clearance he has had, Snowden answers: Top secret. So, people in my levels of access for systems administration or as an infrastructure analyst typically have higher accesses than an NSA employee would normally have… As a systems administrator you get a special clearance called PrivAcc for Privileged Access, which allows you to be exposed to information of any classification regardless of what your position actually needs. (Citizenfour) This aspect of ethos shows audiences that Snowden really is in a position to understand and see the types of information he is disclosing and establishes him as an authority on the subjects he exposes, as well as making it clear that he had a deep enough understanding of this information to comprehend its importance. Because of both his expertise and high levels of security clearance, audiences can trust his knowledge in these areas and also respect the fact that if he was moved to action based upon what he saw, then it is likely that the information is of the utmost importance. In further conversations with Greenwald, Snowden explains how his clearance levels led to his choices of what to share with the public. Because he was a technical expert with high-level clearance, Snowden gained access to the documents he revealed. In this position, he says, “I saw a lot of secret things… and many of them were quite bad. I began to understand that what my government really does in the world is very different from what I’d always been taught” (42). Because of some of the operations he either saw or heard co-workers discuss, he realized “how easy it is to divorce power from accountability, and how the higher the levels of power, the less oversight and accountability there was” (42). This position, which shows he had access to and understanding of the information he is revealing, demonstrates the practical knowledge he has, and the choices he makes about what to do with this information displays his wisdom and prudence, as he goes on to explain that he specifically chose to expose NSA secrets rather than material he had discovered at the CIA. Although Snowden worked for the CIA and the NSA, he was not willing to leak secrets from the former because doing so could lead to direct harm to people. However, he explains, “when you leak NSA secrets, you only harm abusive systems. I was much more comfortable with that” (Greenwald 43). These further explanations of what information he was exposed to as well as why he made the choices that he has establishes Snowden’s phronesis, as one who displays practical knowledge as well as prudence. This practical knowledge, which shows that Snowden is an expert on the areas of surveillance and digital communications systems and also possesses the wisdom to act upon that knowledge ethically, also helps create the foundation for the logos of his arguments and assertions. Because he is intimately acquainted with the systems he describes, his logical arguments carry weight and can be taken seriously by his audience. Much of the logos displayed
176 by Snowden is presented in the form of the actual documents that he revealed. There is no doubt about their authenticity and they clearly show—in vivid, detailed charts and graphs—exactly the extent of the surveillance operations being carried out worldwide. The graphs below, published in The Guardian on June 7, 2013, show some of the details of the formerly secret PRISM program that gathered data from Apple, Google, Skype, Yahoo, and other telecommunications conglomerates.
Figure 10 Graphs detailing PRISM data collection program published by the Guardian
Greenwald also comments on the logical, reasoned organization of all of the documents Snowden passed to him, remarkable specifically because there were thousands of them, all of which it was clear Snowden understood and had organized accordingly. Greenwald describes “how extraordinarily well organized [the archive] was. The source had created countless folders and then sub-folders and sub-sub-folders. Every last document had been placed exactly where it belonged. I never found a single misplaced or misfiled document” (29). This organizational strategy was possible precisely because Snowden understood the programs and how they fit together, and while Greenwald reflects upon the accusations against Manning, whose detractors claimed did not review or understand the documents she leaked to WikiLeaks, “it was clear that nothing of the sort could be said about our NSA source. There was no question that he had carefully reviewed every document he had given us, that he had understood their meaning, then meticulously placed each one in an elegantly organized structure” (30). This organization, which also included hard evidence about “the extent of government lying,” helped to establish the
177 logical claims to the argument Snowden was presenting, first to Poitras and Greenwald, and then to the rest of the world. While Snowden has presented his basic argument in many different formats and through various mediums and venues, his overall reasoning remains consistent. His claim is that the American government, and specifically the NSA, has created mass surveillance programs that collect the metadata of nearly everyone, whether they are suspected of criminal activity or not, and that it has done so in secret, lying to Congress and the public about the extent of their surveillance practices. Snowden then produced thousands of documents,118 backing up this claim with hard evidence, which he collected and copied while in positions at the NSA with high-level security clearance. The underlying warrant for this argument is that privacy and the ability to speak freely are crucial and are protected rights that are basic to fundamental liberties. Greenwald, discussing proceedings instigated by Brazil and Germany in the wake of Snowden’s allegations, points out that the UN resolved that, “online privacy is a fundamental human right.” In addition, Snowden’s argument posits that mass surveillance is anti-democratic, and that democracy is preferable to totalitarianism, the system of governance that is often referred to in arguments made by Snowden, Greenwald, and surveillance studies scholars such as David Lyon. This assumes that general audiences agree that democratic practices are desirable and for the general good, an assumption that NSA officials may or may not agree with. Additionally, Snowden’s logic presupposes a system of governance and social order that privileges public deliberation and debate, as he made it clear repeatedly that he was not unilaterally trying to decide what was in the public’s best interest, but rather wanted to offer the information to the public so that they could decide for themselves what was in the best interest of their freedoms and securities, rather than have those choices made for them by a handful of secretive governmental agencies. His ethos as an authority on the subject, as well as his demeanor as a calm, reasonable person, aid in presenting the logos-based arguments in ways that could be understood and considered, especially with the assistance of the rhetorical skills of journalists like Poitras and Greenwald. The emotions experienced by many, especially at first, were outrage and shock, largely at the knowledge of the extent of government surveillance, but also—at least for some—that a person would tell these secrets publicly. The stated goal of Snowden was that this would inspire pubic debate and reforms, thus the pathos appeal in these rhetorical presentations was geared toward this motivation and the call to action that these texts demanded. As discussed above, audiences experienced a variety of emotions about both the information Snowden disclosed and about Snowden himself. Additionally, audiences in different countries around the world and of different ages had various reactions. In December of 2013, a poll of 1600 people showed that 59% of those surveyed labeled him a “whistleblower” while 41% said “traitor” (Poll). The American Civil Liberties Union conducted an international poll that included United States, Great Britain, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, Italy, Germany, Spain, France, and the Netherlands in February of 2015 on people between the ages of 18-35 which showed “majorities of millennials familiar with Edward Snowden around the world have an overwhelmingly positive opinion of him and believe that his disclosures will lead to greater privacy protections.” In addition, the ACLU poll showed that “the most favorable views of Snowden are in continental Europe, where between 78 and 86 percent of millennials familiar with Snowden have positive
118 It is estimated that Snowden actually took between 1.5 and 1.7 million documents, but less than 100,000 of them have been given over to journalists at the time of this writing.
178 opinions of him. In the United States, 56 percent of millennials have favorable opinions of Snowden.” As with all parrhesiastes in their own historic moment, reactions to Snowden range from strong identification (which might include emotions such as inspiration, enthusiasm, sympathy, admiration, approval, courage, etc.) to complete rejection (which could include emotions such as anger, outrage, shock, enmity, alienation, etc.), while a certain segment of the audience may have little reaction at all. The combination of rhetorical appeals in Snowden’s message, whether there due to the courageous act of parrhesia he undertook or because of the rhetorical packaging of his message, has led to some convincing changes in public debate and policy about mass surveillance. As I will explore in the next section, the networked effects of Snowden’s parrhesia continue to create ripples and changes through the field of conventional social and political practices, causing ongoing disruption to institutions of power. The parrhesiastic acts of Snowden, as risky as they were, did lead to enough of a stir in the public sphere to instigate alterations in the way power operates, which I argue is always the motivation, and often the outcome, of parrhesiastic action, especially when it is viewed in a networked fashion, cumulatively, and across time.
Networks Via Networks: Parrhesia in Cyberspace I have discussed how parrhesiastic acts are connected to and networked with other acts of resistance, sometimes in ways that are very apparent, such as the collaborative journalist efforts of Snowden along with Greenwald and Poitras. In other ways of viewing the effects of parrhesia, however, these relationships can be more dispersed and cover wider swaths of time or space. In this section, I want to explore how Snowden’s parrhesiastic acts work in conjunction beyond the production side of the collaboration between himself and the journalists who worked closely with him, and extend to other actors at the time, then beyond the temporal bounds of the events themselves to examine some of the ongoing repercussions of Snowden’s parrhesia, many of which are still currently unfolding. Additionally, I argue that many of these networked effects are made possible, or at least aided, by digital technologies that are now available. When media outlets (The Guardian and The Washington Post) seemed to be balking at the idea of publishing Snowden’s NSA disclosures, Greenwald and Poitras considered releasing them independently and rallying a large group of interested parties to continue reporting on the leaks. Greenwald understood that “once we went public with the fact that we had in our possession this huge trove of secret documents about NSA spying, we would easily recruit volunteer editors, lawyers, researchers, and financial backers: an entire team, motivated by nothing but a passion for transparency and real adversarial journalism, devoted to reporting what we knew was one of the most significant leaks in US history” (64). This assurance of so many like-minded people who would come together around shared values of transparency and privacy demonstrates the ability for parrhesiastic acts to mobilize large numbers of people, even beyond the boundaries of established news sources. Poitras agreed that this “bold step—creating a global network of people devoted to NSA transparency—would unleash a massive and powerful surge of passion,” a prospect that was very inviting to Snowden and the journalists (65). This network, already visible and largely in place, is also apparent through the support offered to Snowden by WikiLeaks. While in Hong Kong, Snowden was in touch with Assange and WikiLeaks, who helped him to get out of the country and kept him from being arrested and sent back to the United States for trial on espionage charges. According to Greenwald, “Snowden was able to remain free and thus able to participate in the debate he helped trigger because of the daring, indispensible support given by WikiLeaks and its official, Sarah Harrison, who helped
179 him leave Hong Kong and remained with him for months in Moscow” (258). Because Snowden’s passport had been revoked, he and Harrison were stuck in the Moscow airport and “for 39 days, the two managed to camp out in the airport transit zone, foiling the media hordes trying to find them” (Corbett). Harrison, too, is a strong advocate of transparency and privacy, who volunteered for the job of helping Snowden escape custody, a decision that has made it impossible for her to return home for the past two years. According to Snowden, her convictions are so strong that, “in the face of very real risks, Sarah refuses to allow intimidation to shape her decisions…If you forced her to choose between disowning her principles or being burned at the stake, I think she’d hand you a match” (qtd Corbett). Harrison, too, is dedicated to the idea of Snowden’s disclosures as a means of emboldening others to do likewise. Harrison told the reporter from Vogue “that part of the reason she stayed with Snowden was to help him become a symbol, to demonstrate to others that it’s possible to speak out and still live freely,” a goal she feels was successful (Corbett). This network of others who are dedicated to transparency and bringing secretive practices to public light allowed Snowden to avoid imprisonment and to continue to speak against injustices and overreaches of power. Without these networks, it is much more likely he would have been extradited or arrested, either in Hong Kong or Russia, and would not be able to speak out as freely as he continues to do. Furthermore, without the aid of digital technologies, sites like WikiLeaks would not exist, nor would Snowden as easily know about others who might aid him in evading authorities. Because WikiLeaks and Assange were already known entities at the time of Snowden’s disclosures, and because they have similar value systems and agendas, they were able to make contact while Snowden was in Hong Kong, likely via secure, encrypted methods, and thus ensure Snowden’s ongoing freedom. In this case, the parrhesiastic network comprised of those with similar truth values made it possible for ongoing and extended expressions of resistance, even in the face of threat by one of the most—if not the most—powerful government in the world. At the beginning of the process, Snowden, too, was inspired by previous parrhesiastes who had the courage to speak out before him. Greenwald cites previous whistleblowers in “the long line of predecessors who inspired Edward Snowden [that] begins with Pentagon Papers leaker Daniel Ellsberg…[and]…other courageous whistle-blowers who have endured persecution to bring vital truths to the world including Chelsea Manning, Jesselyn Radack, and Thomas Tamm, as well as former NSA officials Thomas Drake and Bill Binney” (257). Greenwald discusses the impact that Snowden had upon him, saying that witnessing Snowden’s actions “was simply stunning. Snowden’s fearlessness and unbreakable tranquility—grounded in the conviction that he was doing the right thing—drove all of the reporting I did on this story, and will profoundly influence me for the rest of my life” (258). Greenwald cites Laura Poitras, too, as being his “incomparably brave and brilliant journalistic partner and friend… [who]… despite years of harassment at the hands of the US government for the films she made… never once hesitated in pursing this story aggressively” (258). In a sense, the networked effects of parrhesia may be seen to work reciprocally within a group sharing the same values, especially if those values require risky action and speaking out against power in order to manifest them in material reality. Snowden clearly chose Greenwald and Poitras for very specific reasons—just as he inspired them to greater levels of courage and parrhesia, perhaps they, too, inspired him to come forward in the first place. Knowing that others already exist and are actively pursuing bringing the injustices of the extremely powerful to public light may inspire more people to do likewise, a hope that Snowden
180 and Greenwald openly expressed throughout the process of publicizing the NSA documents. Even beyond the specific site of NSA surveillance, Greenwald believes that “Snowden’s acts have also profoundly advanced the cause of government transparency and reform in general. He has created a model to inspire others, and future activists will likely follow in his footsteps, perfecting the methods he embraced” (252). In the example of Snowden, “there is a powerful lesson here for future whistle-blowers: speaking the truth does not have to destroy your life… [and]… he has reminded everyone about the extraordinary ability of any human being to change the world…through a single act of conscience” (253). This hope, that one parrhesiastic event will inspire future others, is an aspect of networked parrhesia that I have tried to highlight in this dissertation and which Greenwald articulates throughout his book, though without the benefit of the concept of parrhesia or knowledge of its deep historical roots. By adding the concept of rhetorical parrhesia to the conversation about whistleblowers and others who take great risks to speak truth to power, we may be able to more clearly understand and articulate the relationships and cumulative effects of these dangerous, but necessary, acts of resistance and see the ways in which they have served to disrupt and reshape power across time. In addition to inspiring potential future parrhesiastes through the networked effects of risky acts of resistance, the ramifications of Snowden’s parrhesia can also be seen in national and international legal and policy debates. According to Greenwald, “there is no question that [Snowden’s] disclosures have already brought about fundamental, irreversible changes in many countries and many realms” (252). As mentioned previously in this chapter, the German Parliament met in late July 2013 to discuss the possible ramifications of NSA mass data collection to German citizens, largely due to outrage by the German public about this information and Chancellor Merkel’s initial lack of response (Spiegel Online International). However, regardless of Merkel’s early absence of reaction, in December of 2013—perhaps after learning that she, herself, had been one of the targets of surveillance119—Merkel, along with Dilma Rousseff, the president of Brazil, initiated a resolution at the United Nations to counteract NSA spying. This resolution “calls for all countries to guarantee privacy rights to users of the internet and other forms of electronic communications…[and]…affirms that the same rights that people have offline must also be protected online” (BBC News). These examples are but a couple of the many public debates and discussions that have occurred at the international level since Snowden’s disclosures in June of 2013. These deliberations continue into the present and it is impossible to know how many changes they will instigate in the international community’s relationship to America and views about mass surveillance. In the United States, legal and policy changes have occurred directly as the result of Snowden’s parrhesiastic activities and their ongoing effects. One example of this can be seen in the ruling of the ACLU versus Clapper case, where the ACLU brought charges against the United States government and the NSA about the legality of its mass phone metadata collection. Though the case was originally dismissed in December of 2013, the ACLU appealed the decision and on May 7, 2015 the United States Court of Appeals ruled that “the telephone metadata program exceeds the scope of what Congress has authorized and therefore violates [article] 215” of the Patriot Act, under which this collection took place (ACLU v. Clapper 97). Jameel Jaffer, the ACLU Deputy Legal Director and council to the plaintiff in this case, believes that this decision “could change the government’s surveillance practices quite dramatically.” He also
119 See The Guardian article by Kevin Rawlinson, “NSA Surveillance: Merkel’s Phone May Have Been Monitored ‘for Over Ten Years’” from October 26, 2013.
181 associated the case directly with the actions of Snowden, saying, “I wrote two years ago that the Snowden disclosures should spark reform, and I wrote here nine months ago that they would. It’s too early to know whether I was right, but I’m more optimistic today than I was a week ago.” He also explains the implications of the court’s decision to the ongoing practices possible through the Patriot Act, saying that, “the ruling means that even if Congress reauthorizes Section 215 by June 1 [when it is set to expire] the government will have to discontinue bulk collection under that provision unless Congress adds language expressly authorizing bulk collection or the government prevails on the Supreme Court to vacate the ruling.” These activities, which the author of this article links directly to the actions of Snowden, shows some of the ongoing, networked effects of his actions as they continue to disrupt institutions of power. The renewal of Section 215 of the Patriot Act, under which the metadata was collected by the NSA, is currently in the process of expiring and “winding down.” According to a Justice Department memo issued during the week of May 20th, 2015, “After May 22, 2015, the National Security Agency will need to begin taking steps to wind down the bulk telephone metadata program in anticipation of a possible sunset in order to ensure that it does not engage in any unauthorized collection or use of the metadata.” The memo states that if Congress does not act to renew Section 215 by that time, “after May 22, 2015, it will become increasingly difficult for the government to avoid a lapse in the current NSA program of at least some duration.” On May 23rd, CNN reported a late night filibustering move led by Rand Paul that led to denials of any extension of the upcoming deadline, which is set for midnight on May 31, 2015. CNN reported that, “Senators, who throughout the week generally thought a short-term extension would eventually be approved, appeared stunned by the swift exchanges between [Mitch] McConnell and the three opponents of the program. Gasps were audible” (Barrett). Though Snowden is not mentioned by name in this article, at the top of the page is a short 1.5 minute long video called “Edward Snowden: Hero or Traitor? Lawmakers Sound off.” In the video, it states that all of the people interviewed agree that the NSA needs to be reformed, but disagree on their positions about Snowden. Though the article itself does not directly connect the Senate’s debate about renewing Article 215 of the Patriot Act to Snowden, it is clear from the placement of this video that his influence in these actions is both implied and assumed. This, too, shows the ongoing ramifications of his parrhesiastic action at the national level where highly placed politicians are forced to deal with the extent of his disclosures in their ongoing policy making decisions. Other changes have occurred as the result of Snowden coming forward, including refusals of big communications companies to continue to turn over records without the knowledge of their clients. Less than a year after Snowden’s actions, Apple, Facebook, Google, and Microsoft were “updating their policies to expand routine notification of users about government data seizures, unless specifically gagged by a judge or other legal authority” (Timberg). This position, which has become the blanket policy of many big telecommunications organizations, has meant that many “U.S. tech companies will ignore the instructions stamped on the fronts of subpoenas urging them not to alert subjects about data requests, industry lawyers say. Companies that already routinely notify users have found that investigators often drop data demands to avoid having suspects learn of inquiries” (Timberg). Many of these same companies had apparently attempted to avoid turning over the data in the first place—including Yahoo! which was fined $250,000 per day until they complied, and Google, which likewise attempted to resist NSA demands—but after Snowden’s disclosures, they were able to enact greater resistance, now that the programs were no longer classified and secret (Rushe, Fischer-Zernin).
182 All of these changes, and countless others, point to the ongoing effects of Snowden’s parrhesia, which continue to create disruptions in the workings of large institutions of power. It could be argued that perhaps these changes might have come about in due time anyway even if Snowden had not chosen to act, or that these transformations could have been possible prior to the affordances available through current computer technologies. However, it is unlikely that the extent of NSA surveillance would have ever come to public light if it was not forced to do so, and changes in policy could have not come about so quickly if the information had been distributed and circulated via means that traveled more slowly. Because Snowden’s actions, motivations, and words spread so far and so quickly, once the rhetorical ball was rolling, it was impossible to stop or even slow. The networked effects of parrhesia, apparent in many of the acts of resistance examined in this dissertation, are even more pronounced in the case of Snowden, who used the affordances and accessibility of Internet communication to find collaborators (e.g. Poitras, Greenwald, and later Assange and Harrison) to help him enact his parrhesia to the fullest. Furthermore, because the texts created could be recomposed, redistributed, and circulated broadly through cyberspace, his message moved quickly and could be adapted for a variety of audiences. These factors, which utilized the possibilities of current technologies, allowed for Snowden’s parrhesastic choices to disrupt power on a nearly unprecedented scale, effects that are still being felt in their disruptive force as they continue to unfold.
Implications for Parrhesia is Digital Spaces The implications for examining Snowden’s act of parrhesia within the digital realm demonstrate some of the novel effects of parrhesia as it might be enacted in contemporary society using current technological mediums. The systems of power which Snowden resisted utilized the possibilities of cyberspace and the Internet in order to permeate more deeply into the lives of citizens, but these capabilities go both ways. In fact, several people reviewed, including Snowden himself, Poster, Barlow, and Greenwald, view the Internet as having formerly been a space of greater freedoms and expression that was then coopted by powerful institutions as a means of extending their control. While power adapts to fill and penetrate all spaces in order to extend its grip, meaningful acts of resistance will likewise need to modify their tactics. Perhaps Snowden’s parrhesia was as effective as it was precisely because he understood the medium in which he was working, and where he lacked knowledge—such as rhetorical skill, composing savvy, and an understanding of media distribution—he engaged other likeminded people with whom to collaborate. These networked relationships, based upon shared truth values and a commitment to speak those truths regardless of the consequences, led to a kind of distributed agency that was only possible through multiple parties acting in accordance. I would argue that these relationships, too, are aided by interactions in cyberspace that make it possible for multiple parties to communicate and collaborate across distances at speeds that would not be possible via the mediums of past eras.120 As technology has always had a connection to rhetorical delivery and distribution, in the digital age, the possibilities for spreading a parrhesiastic message have heretofore unprecedented potential. Just as power has utilized new technologies to spread its influence, so, too, have parrhesiastic rhetors had to find new rhetorical means of resistance that meet those challenges.
120 This is not to imply that networked effects did not happen in other mediums—they did—but rather that in digital environments this information can travel great distances much faster, thus the networked effects found in other mediums is amplified in digital environments.
183 Snowden, coming forward as he did—openly, fearlessly, and without hesitation—offers a model to others who might follow his example. While the Internet notoriously provides spaces wherein individuals can ostensibly act anonymously, Snowden chose instead to reveal his identity, thus putting himself at greater risk though potentially keeping others, who might have otherwise been implicated, from harm. One of the aspects that sets Snowden apart from a site like WikiLeaks, to which he could have certainly gone with his information, is that Snowden did not want to put forth the NSA documents without owning up to the fact that it was he who acted. Additionally, he was concerned about releasing all of the documents he had indiscriminately due the possible harms it could cause to individuals or to the nation at large. At the same time, he felt that civil liberties were being violated and for reasons that did not promote the stated agenda of ensuring national security, thus he chose to act in exactly the manner he did. This reasoning distinguishes what he did from other acts of disclosure, which while still furthering the pursuit of greater transparency, do not do so with such inevitable and clear risks to the speaker. From the perspective of historic actions of parrhesia, Snowden behaved in a nearly classical manner, taking up his perceived duty as a citizen promoting democratic principles that were risky to deliver, but which needed to be said out loud, in public, so that the people could decide how they wanted to move forth as a society. Like many of the classical parrhesiastes, Snowden took his privately held truths and made them public through the act of parrhesia, transforming what was once hidden and unknowable into a publicly debatable issue. This transition from the private to the public was clearly risky for Snowden, and it is doubtful that he will ever again enjoy the relative anonymity and safety of a private citizen. However, he knowingly took on those risks and consequences because, for him, remaining silent in the face of gross imbalances of power was more dangerous than speaking up. Possibly because he identified his own good as being synonymous with the public good, he was willing to take on the personal risks inherent in speaking out to such great forces of power. Because of this risk, the public at least has a chance to take action against formerly secretive forces that could have, with slight changes in policy or political climate, turned a corner into outright totalitarianism. That we live in a world with any freedoms at all might, at least in part, be due to the acts of parrhesiastes across time who have risked their own safety to ensure the freedoms of others. How this was enacted by Snowden in digital space might also serve as an example moving forward of how parrhesia might be expressed in our present and future, as well as instigate conversations about how we can manifest values in our world that more closely reflect the truth claims we allege to value.
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Chapter 10 Implications, Applications, and Conclusions
Parrhesia, the rhetorical act of speaking truth to power when doing so is risky to the speaker, has clearly been integral to Western thought and practice since it arose alongside democracy and rhetoric in ancient Athens in the fourth century BCE. Even though there was not a direct linguistic corollary for parrhesia in Latin, the practice of parrhesia itself, where a rhetor would speak out to uphold or defend deeply held truths, even when doing so might cost his life, continued in the Roman Republic with orators like Cicero. This institutionally legitimized parrhesia, which was built into the foundation of democratic and republican ideology and practice, is the type seen in orators such as Pericles and Demosthenes in Athens, or Cicero in Rome, and took place within the highly public, political realm of governmental functioning and policy making. A second variation or site for parrhesia in the Classical age is of the more (though not wholly) private, philosophical kind, as initially presented in the Platonic dialogues but which continued to flourish throughout the times of the Roman Empire in small, philosophically based communities (e.g., Epicureans, Stoics) where trusted friends were tasked with utilizing parrhesia—frankly telling the truth even when doing so was difficult—for the sake of mutual support and the self-improvement of members of those communities. While these types of parrhesia occurred in situations where they were expected and considered a duty, parrhesia also existed in more autocratic environments, where the sign of a “good king” was one who was willing to hear criticism and so the trusted advisor was one who would speak parrhesiastically, running the risk of the king’s ire in order to speak truths that were for the good of the state or the king himself. Another possible way of dealing with autocracies and parrhesia was for the latter to become more of a figure of speech, where the rhetor would apologetically offer criticism of a stronger power, often ameliorated by praise. An additional site for parrhesia in the Classical era is of the type demonstrated by Diogenes and other Cynics, who did not distinguish between private and public, and who openly criticized those in power, subverted any and all social mores, and pointed out the absurdities and hypocrisies of conventional social practices by flagrantly and publicly disregarding them. Christianity, too, incorporated parrhesia into its ideology, using it to mean various things—it could be the boldness it took for a prophet to speak or a martyr to endure suffering for truth, or it could imply frank or unadorned speech, or a deep understanding and relationship with God. However, as the Church solidified categories of orthodoxy and heresy, speaking out for any truth other than that which was Church sanctioned became verboten, and parrhesia as a conceptual practice lost much of its political power in the intervening years. While each of these categories represents a particular iteration of parrhesia, it should be noted that many of the qualities overlap and were also practiced concurrently with one another in the Classical age, from approximately the late fifth century BCE until the fall of the Roman Empire in the fifth century CE. That is not to say that people after this time stopped resisting power in dangerous situations—far from it—but rather that they would not necessarily be thought of as “parrhesiastic” or invoking parrhesia, as parrhesia between the fall of the Roman Empire until the digital age was largely considered either in the Biblical light just explained, or as a figure of speech as represented in rhetorical manuals derived from sources such as Rhetorica ad Herennium. Possibly because there was no linguistic corollary for parrhesia in Latin-based languages, or
185 perhaps because centuries of monarchical rule and Church-based authority did not privilege, or sometimes even tolerate, risky acts of speaking out, parrhesia as a cohesive concept encapsulated in one word fell from use in vernacular discourse. Parrhesia still existed in practice, though, in the actions of people who stood up to the rule of power, as well as in works of philosophy, history, and rhetoric passed down from ancient Greek sources, as well as Greek-language versions of the Bible. Through this time, while parrhesia did not disappear from Western discourse and epistemology, the privileging of it as a political and personal duty, or as an overt value that could be pointed to and talked about as a particular type of action, largely did. This dissertation has sought to recover this term and idea for use today and to frame it within the domain of rhetorical theory and action. Because parrhesia has such potential to challenge and resist power, it is imperative to study and understand how it works for the sake of analyzing and more effectively enacting it. Just as we teach students to conduct rhetorical analyses to understand how appeals and situations call for various rhetorical tactics, so, too, should we be able to point out the unique rhetorical situation found in parrhesiastic rhetoric where the speaker works within a situation of less power than the entity to whom she speaks, with the exigence of having a deeply held truth value violated, to an audience who may or may not receive her message favorably, or even safely. Because parrhesia is often required for marginalized or silenced people to speak out at all, we need to understand how this works so that we can both acknowledge the great risks certain speakers take in speaking, and also more productively show how to enact these moments of resistance to power when that may be the only rhetorical means available. While parrhesia existed and was understood in all of the variations described above, the parrhesiastic action that I am most focused on for this work is the type that allows citizens, who are often driven by a duty that is stronger than their own life or safety, to make a stand against power. When a parrhesiastes speaks it is often because some truth value is being violated and the outrage at this violation causes her to speak out. The sense of injustice and the choice to speak out regardless of the risk may be experienced as a privately made decision, but generally reflects a commonly accepted value that is not being enacted, acknowledged, or manifested sufficiently. This movement, from community/personal value to action is how the parrhesiastes enacts an intervention into public discourse, in the choice to speak and to move that resistance from the realm of the private or unarticulated into the realm of the public and articulated. The transgression of boundaries between the private and the public is where I believe that parrhesia has the most potential to disrupt and shape power, as figures such as Matilda Gage and Edward Snowden have demonstrated. Of course, there are many, many other parrhesiastes I could have focused on for this study, and many more who I hope will be analyzed in the future based upon the framework I am presenting here. The citizen parrhesiastes embodies the ideals of duty and citizenship within an ethos of courage, and focuses on deeply held truth values that are typically shared by her community. In this way, the citizen parrhesiastes can articulate commonly held truths and defend them against encroachments by power, not only for the self, but also for the community in which she lives. At the same time, it is also a deeply personal choice to risk one’s life in service of these values—a parrhesiastes acts because she must, out of a sense of integrity and ethics, rather than from social pressure or obligation. If we look around, examples of citizen parrhesiastes abound. Some of these—which would include the two case studies I examined in Sections Three and Four—intervene in momentous ways that can change the course of history for untold millions of people who come after. Others, however, may operate in smaller ways—the person who stops a bully on the street
186 from causing harm to a person with less power, or stands up for someone who is being put down or oppressed, who intervenes when they see a day-to-day injustice happening and goes against the social grain to speak out about it. The risks these everyday parrhesiastes face may not be life imprisonment or death, and yet the risks can be very real—loss of a job, being physically attacked, jailed, or ostracized from a community are all consequences that might occur for standing up for deeply held beliefs in a variety of social settings. This parrhesia serves a vital purpose in how we view and react to power, and I would argue that everyday parrehesia is also part of the networked affects of parrhesaistic action I have been pointing to throughout this work. Every act of resistance can inspire more acts of resistance. As Glenn Greenwald noted repeatedly, courage is contagious. As audiences see power challenged by parrhesiastes who transgress conventional hierarchies and dynamics of power to stand up and speak out against injustices, it becomes more normalized to do so. Just as Greenwald and Sarah Harrison both articulated about Edward Snowden, when people see someone take on such grave risks for the sake of freedom and transparency for others and live freely to tell about it, it inspires others to do the same. In this way, the ripples of effect are ongoing and may never stop. While power seeks to consolidate itself in various institutions and is always attempting to control and cling to its dominance, parrhesia works as a perpetuating network of connections that can transcend boundaries of time and space in order to instigate more resistance in disparate locations. Where parrhesia has the ability to inspire other acts of resistance that further the truth values spoken from, power only has the capacity to control, and never comprehensively. Where power seeks to bolster itself with little regard for the wellbeing of others, parrhesia aspires to promote greater freedom and autonomy for everyone who witnesses it. This is why, perhaps, despite centuries of oppression in various regimes that attempt to suppress dissension, whether through force or conditioned self- regulation, there are always those who resist this. That ongoing resistance in the face of risk and danger is parrhesia, and as such a potentially powerful force in the shaping and reshaping of power, it needs to be studied, analyzed, and understood more thoroughly. This is not to say that a rhetorical theory of parrhesia will automatically have liberating potentials or create some idealized utopian state. Rather, I argue that without a conceptual framework to understand, articulate, or even see these acts of resistance and their cumulative effects, we miss acknowledging a good deal about how power works and how it might be more effectively shaped and enacted so that it represents the truth values we actually claim to hold. I want to be clear, too, that I am not envisioning a monolithic future where “truth” is dictated or limited to a narrow range of truth claims, or that all people see the same values as manifesting in the same ways. Rather, I posit a means of seeing history and power relations in a way where parrhesia as a concept emerges as a specific type of practice that has worked to disrupt and resist power over time. As I posit in Chapter 9, given the drive of powerful institutions and the will to control others that humanity has demonstrated in its time as a “civilized” species, that there are any freedoms at all may be largely the result of parrhesia. Just as power will never universally, once and for all, control every aspect of every life on the plant (though it may try), there is also the implicit understanding that people will not forever and unanimously be dominated or silenced without eventually standing up and refusing, regardless of the consequences to self or safety. The absence of parrhesia as a current discursive formation (as Foucault might describe it) is striking, given that it seems to be the one force that does not, and has not ever, succumbed to the impositions and threats of power. By articulating and promoting parrhesia as a type of rhetorical action that can be analyzed, understood, and enacted when it is the best or only
187 rhetorical means available is imperative to safeguarding freedoms and ensuring that rhetoric serves ethical, liberatory purposes in our collective future. I have spoken throughout this dissertation about the networked effects of parrhesia and how this relates to the ongoing ramifications of parrhesiastic rhetoric even after the moment of enactment has passed. These networks spread both backward and forward in time from a given parrhesiastic moment, which might be envisioned as a convergent nodal point amidst a web of related parrhesiastic activity. Prior to the event, the networked effects might manifest as direct collaborators—as we saw in the cases of both Gage and Snowden—as well as temporally and spatially disparate parrhesiastic actors who served as models or inspirations for parrhesia. Both of these aspects of pre-parrhesiastic networking can be integral to a parrhesiastic event, and it serves to demonstrate that while the choice to take a risk of life or safety may need to be a private, individual decision, the ability to take that action occurs within a social network of overlapping activities. Even in the absence of others whom the parrhesiastes knows directly, history serves as a site for examples and inspirations, which may be why so may parrhesiastes cite past heroes and models when they are queried about their influences. It is significant that we do remember parrhesiastes over time and that they continue to inspire and speak to us across vast expanses of time. We remember them because we need them, and their past risks are still relevant to our present when we seek cracks in power into which we can intervene resistively. After a parrhesiastic event has occurred, the networked effects continue and now contain, disseminate, and spread the given parrhesiastic act indefinitely into the future. In my case studies, this manifested as people who helped Snowden escape (e.g. Assange and Harrison) and the various means of distribution and circulation of an event after it has occurred. These networked effects can travel across space and time for centuries, evidenced by how often Cicero is still quoted and how many memes of his words circulate today. These after-the-fact networked effects serve as the before-the-fact parrhesiastic events of the future, thus the network of parrhesia goes on indeterminately, for as long as people pass down and circulate the memories of resistance embedded in our ideologies, epistemologies, and identities.
Figure 11 Simple model of parrhesiastic network
188 These networked effects are greatly aided by, and potentially only possible through, the technological mediums that deliver, distribute, and circulate parrhesiastic rhetoric. Even prior to print, stories of bravery and courage were passed orally through cultures and once print technologies were developed, these stories warranted enough identification and interest that they continued to circulate. That we remember and hold to these stories speaks to something central to human identity, and parrhesia seems to be a quality that, while manifesting in various ways depending upon historic, cultural, and political circumstances, sticks with us across time. In the case studies of Sections Three and Four, I pointed out how the changing technologies of print and digital mediums influenced parrhesiastic action and its networked effects. By understanding the affordances of the mediums we work with, it may be possible to more effectively utilize mediums in ways that make wider resistance more likely and viable to larger segments of the population. Also embedded in the networked influences of parrhesia is the idea of distributed agency, which I have called “hybrid subjectivity” elsewhere. This model recognizes that it often takes a coalition of multiple actors working together to support resistance and agency, especially in conditions of overwhelming power. While at times these networks can work directly and collaboratively, parrhesiastic networked disruptions work whether they are coordinated or not. It is possible that actors may come together specifically for the purpose of aiding parrhesia, as we saw with the collaboration between Snowden, Greenwald, and Poitras, which then extended to ever larger networks that included other actors (e.g., Assange, Harrison, MacAskill, and others) as well as institutions (e.g., The Guardian, The Washington Post, and then others who picked up the story). For those who take the greatest risks, and who consciously choose to be there, (e.g., Greenwald and Poitras) we could look at the their collaboration as an example of a hybrid entity that comes together for the purpose of enacting a risky resistance, which is more likely to succeed if they work together as one collaborative subject, and which they are more likely to get away with if they disband afterward and move in separate directions. This sense of distributed agency allows for action and agency in situations that would otherwise make acting in an effective manner impossible. Snowden’s case provides the clearest and most apparently documented of examples of distributed agency or hybrid subjectivity, largely because there is so much extant material to work with and the “behind the scenes” texts such as Citizenfour and Greenwald’s book. Snowden himself experienced a sense of this hybrid subjectivity and expresses that one of the times he is queried about why he is choosing to act in such a risky manner. He responds that he is willing to give up his own personal freedom because “of those around me, whom I care for equally as I do for myself” (Citizenfour). This connection of the subject to “others” who are not perceived as “other” can be a way that this fluid subjectivity manifests but it is by all means not the only way. As pointed out in Chapter 9, Snowden, Greenwald, and Poitras established “a relationship of collaboration, trust, and common purpose” that allowed for the parrhesiastic event to occur—none of them alone could have enacted the same scale or kind of parrhesiastic action that they could together (Greenwald 82). But when the moment of parrhesia was completed—the NSA leaks were out and Snowden’s identity was known—they dismantled their collaborative entity and dispersed, which likely made it more difficult for them to be caught. By understanding the way that hybrid subjectivity might work in situations of parrhesiastic resistance, we might be able to note the fluidity of subjectivity where actors converge and then disperse in a field of motion that allows for the most powerful intervention against large structures of power while creating, afterward, a more difficult path to trace. This
189 distributed agency likewise offers a productive way of examining the networked actions of parrhesia and of envisioning new perceptions of subjectivity that subvert conventional boundaries of identity, individuation, and power. Just as in other discussions about parrhesia, technological interfaces also contribute to the possibility of creating these hybrid subjectivities for the purpose of collaboratively resisting power. Communicative technologies that travel at nearly instantaneous velocities, which promote the possibilities for forming these coalitions for specific purposes and then dissolving them work at higher rates of speed and across much greater distances than previous eras could provide. The collaborative nature of parrhesiastic networks speaks, too, to how we approach teaching rhetoric and writing. While many pedagogies in the past few decades have privileged collaboration as a legitimate act of composing, if we examine the potential for these collaborations to enact parrhesiastic rhetoric, we might further the rhetorical choices of our students and the means available to future civil society. While collaborative writing in the workplace is a current “real life” setting wherein group composing occurs, it is focused more on co-authorship rather than exploring issues of agency and subjectivity that may be possible in parrhesiasic networks or other types of resistive collaborations. By including discussions and analyses of parrhesia, we may be able to expand notions of collaboration to include actions that demonstrate the power of collaborative, networked activity, which in this case has the possibility of disrupting power in myriad ways.
Problems with Parrhesia While I have focused so far in this chapter on the possible benefits of understanding and even teaching parrhesia, I do want to note the places where there are problems or issues with it. From almost the time of its inception, various dilemmas and complications arose from its use, too, some of which I covered in Chapter 5. Parrhesia, like any powerful rhetorical tool, can be abused and/or unforeseen difficulties can arise from invoking parrhesia. Perhaps one of the stickiest issues with parrhesia is the idea of speaking “truth,” which is why throughout this dissertation I have used phrases such as truth claims or truth values, and explained in Chapter 5 that these could also be imagined as ideals. These are broad categories of values, such as freedom, expression, equality, safety, acceptance, security, autonomy, etc., that most people would claim to value. However, as I have also previously pointed out, how these values manifest may vary greatly from person to person, which is exactly why they create such a contested space—how I want to enact freedom may be very different from how someone else would enact it, and of course the same could be said of safety, security, equality, etc. These “truths” are not fact-based information, but rather the underlying ideals upon which people build their worldviews and identities. Because of this, they do deeply care about them and are willing, as we have seen, to sometimes risk their lives, safety, and freedom to defend or enact them. In communicating about parrhesia, I think it is imperative to have some understanding of this—to grasp the truth claims parrhesiastes speak to and from—more so, perhaps, than the strategies they propose or envision to enact them. For instance, to use Snowden again as our model, he specifically invokes truth values such as transparency, freedom, expression, intellectual curiosity, inclusion, and accountability, which underlie his choices and which support the strategies he envisions for enacting these. The strategies themselves are things such as greater government disclosure about surveillance activities (which is how transparency and accountability might manifest), less surveillance and tracking of information on the Internet (freedom, expression, intellectual curiosity), and greater
190 open debate about what we, as a society, are willing to accept in the way of state-sponsored surveillance (accountability, transparency, inclusion). Though this is a simplified and by no means complete analysis of the truth claims and the potential strategies they suggest, it offers an example of the type of analysis that I think is necessary to fully understand the motivations and implications of any practice that claims to speak to “truth.” Epistemologically, “truth” has often carried the baggage of monolithic truth claims that are, and have been, forced onto people by power. Although scholars steeped in theory may be aware that this kind of “truth” is not possible in a post-Kantian epistemological framework, outside of the academy, “truth” remains an often- unproblematized term that is used in problematic, un-nuanced ways. Proposing a practice that encourages “speaking truth” has the potential to create more deeply ingrained clinging to particular paradigms of truth or worldviews which various people may hold to be self evident when they are not so to many others who hold divergent epistemic paradigms. While articulating truth claims and resisting power can be ethical, deeply meaningful acts, there are many ways in which this model could be subverted that could result in reinscribing the very power structures it seeks to resist. This is why parrhesia must be examined as an ethical activity and why rhetoric must include questions and concerns of ethics whenever it is taught, discussed, or theorized. Power tools are very effective for cutting through lines of conventional, established power relations, but they can also, used unethically, cause tremendous damage. For this reason, when parrhesia is theorized, we must try to understand the truth claims that are being spoken from, even if the strategy utilized by the speaker is not one that the analyst would choose herself. For instance, if I were conducting a parrhesiastic rhetorical analysis of Snowden and I disagreed with his actions, it would be imperative that I still recognize and acknowledge the truth claims that drove these actions. Even if I did not agree that Snowden should have leaked NSA surveillance secrets to the public, in my analysis, I could still recognize that he chose to do this because he valued qualities such as transparency, freedom, expression, intellectual curiosity, inclusion, and accountability, truth values that I (likely) also hold. From this position, then, of understanding the difference between the truth claims and the strategies he chose to attempt to more fully manifest these qualities in the world, I could conduct a more ethical, balanced analysis and possibly even derive novel solutions for alternative strategies that likewise hold true to those same values. In this way, parrhesiastic rhetorical analyses could—and should, I would argue—attempt to make the truth claims of a parrhesiastic rhetor visible and highlight that common ground, even if the strategies chosen do not resonate. This leads to another potential problem with parrhesia—what if audiences do not at all understand the parrhesiastic action or do nothing in response? As Snowden stated, his biggest fear was not the risks he was taking to speak, but rather that audiences would not react at all, that they would understand the oppressive surveillance they lived under but “they won’t be willing to take the risks necessary to stand up and fight to change things” (Poitras). This can certainly happen, and while it is one thing to risk one’s entire life in order to resist power and enact change, it is quite another to throw away one’s future and then have nothing happen because of it. This is a very real risk that any parrhesiastes takes—not only might they lose life or freedom, but they may do so and have accomplished nothing in exchange for that sacrifice. I would say to this, however, that with parrhesia, as long as someone sees it, it does make a difference, even if that difference is not measurable or visible at the time. For instance, in the case of Gage examined in Chapter 7, though she spent her entire life working for the causes of women’s suffrage, workers rights, Native American rights, abolition,
191 etc., by the time she died, she had been marginalized by her former collaborators (e.g. Stanton and Anthony), women did not have the vote, and conditions were no better for many of the other groups for whom she had spoken out for decades. Still, despite these apparent setbacks, she continued her work through her life until her health no longer permitted it. In mid-February 1898, just weeks before she died, she wrote a piece entitled “Woman’s Demand for Freedom: Its Influences Upon the World,” which was read at the fiftieth anniversary celebration of the first women’s rights convention (Wagner Sky 65). Though Gage was not able to attend because of her health, her address was read to the crowd wherein she continues to promote the rights of women, and optimistically notes the effects that the movement has had even though they have not yet reached many of their stated goals. In her writing, Gage often reflects that she knows that those who will come later will be the true beneficiaries of the resistive work she and others are doing, and in her last editorial to the National Citizen and Ballot Box she says, “neither shall we who carry on the fight, reap the great reward. We are battling for the good of those who shall come after us; them, not ourselves, shall enter into the harvest” (qtd Wagner Sky 67). In this way, she expresses how she understands the ongoing effects of parrhesia upon audiences yet to come, rather than expecting her resistive work to be wholly enacted or appreciated by audiences in her own time. Nevertheless, she continued to work and to express her parrhesiastic messages up until the very end of her life. I would argue that this problem with parrhesiastic rhetoric, that one never knows how— or if—an audience will respond, also points to the importance of the networked effects of parrhesia. While immediate audiences may or may not respond positively to parrhesiastic rhetoric, future audiences may resonate more fully with the messages, perhaps because the parrhesiastes is not a contemporary and therefore not currently disrupting the status quo. Arguably, though, the truths to which the parrhesiastes spoke, perhaps because the parrhesiastes spoke, may be more fully manifest and normalized in future iterations of society than they were at the time of the parrhesiastic articulation. This is the phenomenon of parrhesiastes existing “ahead of their time,” so that by the time these particular truth claims are more resonant and accepted, the parrhesiastes herself is no longer there. While the possibility that women could legitimately vote, or that Native Americans were equal to white people, were radical, largely unaccepted ideas in the nineteenth century, in the twenty-first century, these ideas resonate precisely because they were “progressive” and therefore retained relevance in future cultural truth claims. Perhaps the real audience for parrhesiastic rhetoric is other future parrhesiastes, as these truth tellers yet to come may, like us, need inspirational models upon which to base their acts of resistance.
Parrhesia: Networking the Future Parrhesia, already embedded in Western thought and practice historically and ideologically, can be most productively utilized if it is brought into the present and recognized as a powerful rhetorical activity that has affected, disrupted, and reshaped power since its inception alongside democracy and rhetoric. While we may have largely forgotten the word, we have never fully abandoned the practice, even though we lacked a direct concept and linguistic signifier to name it. By bringing parrhesia and conversations about it into the present, I hope to generate theoretical analyses of many potential sites, both historic and contemporaneous. Some examples of possible sites of analysis and inquiry questions for future examination are: • Attention to the wider parrhesiastic networks that supported the nineteenth century women’s movement. How many other parrhesiastes were there in that movement? What
192 other rhetorical means came after parrhesiastic rhetorical events that either subverted or promoted similar ideals? How did these network together or against one another? • Can there be too many parrhesiastes? What purpose do parrhesiastic rhetors serve in larger social movements? And would an abundance of them help or hinder that movement? • How does “everyday parrhesia” work in different settings? How common is it for someone to, say, publicly defend someone in person in a way that goes against the social conventions of that setting? • What does parrhesia online look like? Because speakers are often physically in remote locations from their audience, what constitutes “risk” in online settings? How does digital activism fit into this model? Is it or is it not parrhesiastic? • One of the markers for parrhesia is that the rhetor takes on risks to the self in speaking out. How do anonymous acts of truth telling fit into this? Does it depend upon whether the speaker is engaging in the possibility of real risk? Or is individual identity always a criterion for parrhesia? What if the anonymous person gets caught? Does that change the dynamic? • How can parrhesia be incorporated into pedagogical approaches in ways that do not put students at risk? While I would argue that teaching what parrhesia is and how it works are important, what about students who then seek to enact parrhesia? Is it ethical to potentially put students at risk or encourage them to engage in activities that might create harmful consequences? • How can one tell if they are speaking out against power or reinscribing it? If someone holds a majority view in a culture, but “feels like” they are being oppressed by movements toward greater minority equality, does their “speaking out against that” constitute parrhesia? While I would say that because power relations are so embedded in parrhesia that this would not constitute parrhesiastic rhetoric, how and where are those lines drawn? What would keep parrhesia, if misunderstood, from becoming yet another justification for oppression, silencing, and “talking over” others? Certainly, there are many other questions that can be asked and numerous sites that can be explored using a rhetorical theory of parrhesia as a framework for analysis—its application is warranted in any situation where parrhesia has occurred. Additionally, while many historic parrhesiastes have been rhetorically analyzed using conventional means, what might we learn if a rhetorical theory of parrhesia were applied to these same sites? As noted, the acts of parrhesiastes are often memorable, written down, and otherwise circulated culturally—now that we have this model for analysis, what might we discover, uncover, or recover about these parrhesiastic rhetors that we were not able to understand or articulate previously? These questions and many others are left open at the end of this study, questions I hope to pick up and pursue for many years to come, an inquiry in which I hope others will join. Parrhesia, in its ability to resist and disrupt power, offers an invaluable rhetorical method for both analysis and enactment and may serve to provide “power tools” for others who seek to disrupt conventional relations, institutions, and ingrained power dynamics. It is my hope that this work instigates new lines of investigation and understanding so that we might ensure that we maintain the rhetorical tools necessary to continue to resist and reshape power, however it manifests in our collective futures.
193 Appendix
Uses of Parrhesia and Parrhesiazomai in the King James Bible
Parrhesiazomai – verb "Greek Lexicon entry for Parrhesiazomai". The KJV New Testament Greek Lexicon Thayer and Smith.
Definition: 1. to use freedom in speaking, be free spoken a. to speak freely 2. to grow confident, have boldness, show assurance, assume a bold bearing
Acts – 7 times 9:27: But Barnabas took him, and brought him to the apostles, and declared unto them how he had seen the Lord in the way, and that he had spoken to him, and how he had preached boldly at Damascus in the name of Jesus.
9:29: And he spake boldly in the name of the Lord Jesus, and disputed against the Grecians: but they went about to slay him.
13:46: Then Paul and Barnabas waxed bold, and said, It was necessary that the word of God should first have been spoken to you: but seeing ye put it from you , and judge yourselves unworthy of everlasting life, lo, we turn to the Gentiles.
14:3: Long time therefore abode they speaking boldly in the Lord, which gave testimony unto the word of his grace, and granted signs and wonders to be done by their hands.
18:26: And he began to speak boldly in the synagogue: whom when Aquila and Priscilla had heard, they took him unto them, and expounded unto him the way of God more perfectly.
19:8: And he went into the synagogue, and spake boldly for the space of three months, disputing and persuading the things concerning the kingdom of God.
26:26: For the king knoweth of these things, before whom also I speak freely: for I am persuaded that none of these things are hidden from him; for this thing was not done in a corner.
Ephesians – 2 times (6:19: And for me, that utterance may be given unto me, that I may open my mouth boldly, to make known the mystery of the gospel,)
6:20: For which I am an ambassador in bonds: that therein I may speak boldly, as I ought to speak .
194 Thessalonians – 1 time 2:2: But even after that we had suffered before, and were shamefully entreated, as ye know, at Philippi, we were bold in our God to speak unto you the gospel of God with much contention.
Parrhesia "Greek Lexicon entry for Parrhesia". The KJV New Testament Greek Lexicon. Thayer and Smith.
Definition 1. freedom in speaking, unreservedness in speech a. openly, frankly, i.e without concealment b. without ambiguity or circumlocution c. without the use of figures and comparisons 2. free and fearless confidence, cheerful courage, boldness, assurance 3. the deportment by which one becomes conspicuous or secures publicity
King James Word Usage - Total: 31 boldness 8, confidence 6, openly 4, plainly 4, openly + boldly 2, boldly 1, miscellaneous 6
Appears 31 times
Mark 8:32: And he spake that saying openly. And Peter took him, and began to rebuke him.
John 7:4: For there is no man that doeth any thing in secret, and he himself seeketh to be known openly . If thou do these things, shew thyself to the world.
7:13: Howbeit no man spake openly of him for fear of the Jews.
7:26: But, lo, he speaketh boldly, and they say nothing unto him. Do the rulers know indeed that this is the very Christ?
11:14: Then said Jesus unto them plainly, Lazarus is dead.
11:54: Jesus therefore walked no more openly among the Jews; but went thence unto a country near to the wilderness, into a city called Ephraim, and there continued with his disciples.
16:25: These things have I spoken unto you in proverbs: but the time cometh , when I shall no more speak unto you in proverbs, but I shall shew you plainly of the Father.
16:29: His disciples said unto him, Lo, now speakest thou plainly, and speakest no proverb.
18:20: Jesus answered him, I spake openly to the world; I ever taught in the synagogue, and in the temple, whither the Jews always resort ; and in secret have I said nothing.
195 Acts 2:29: Men and brethren, let me freely speak unto you of the patriarch David, that he is both dead and buried , and his sepulchre is with us unto this day.
4:13: Now when they saw the boldness of Peter and John, and perceived that they were unlearned and ignorant men, they marvelled ; and they took knowledge of them, that they had been with Jesus.
4:29: And now, Lord, behold their threatenings: and grant unto thy servants, that with all boldness they may speak thy word,
28:31: Preaching the kingdom of God, and teaching those things which concern the Lord Jesus Christ, with all confidence, no man forbidding him.
2 Corinthians 7:4: Great is my boldness of speech toward you, great is my glorying of you: I am filled with comfort, I am exceeding joyful in all our tribulation.
Ephesians 3:12: In whom we have boldness and access with confidence by the faith of him.
6:19: And for me, that utterance may be given unto me, that I may open my mouth boldly, to make known the mystery of the gospel,
Philippians 1:20: According to my earnest expectation and my hope, that in nothing I shall be ashamed , but thatwith all boldness, as always, so now also Christ shall be magnified in my body, whether it be by life,or by death.
Colossians 2:15: And having spoiled principalities and powers, he made a shew of them openly , triumphing over them in it.
1 Timothy 3: 13: For they that have used the office of a deacon well purchase to themselves a good degree, and great boldness in the faith which is in Christ Jesus.
Philemon 1:8: Wherefore, though I might be much bold in Christ to enjoin thee that which is convenient ,
196 Hebrews 3:6: But Christ as a son over his own house; whose house are we, if we hold fast the confidence and the rejoicing of the hope firm unto the end.
4:16: Let us therefore come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need.
10:35: Cast not away therefore your confidence, which hath great recompence of reward.
1 John 2:28: And now, little children, abide in him; that, when he shall appear , we may have confidence, and not be ashamed before him at his coming.
3:21: Beloved, if our heart condemn us not, then have we confidence toward God.
4:17: Herein is our love made perfect , that we may have boldness in the day of judgment: because as he is , so are we in this world.
5:14: And this is the confidence that we have in him, that, if we ask any thing according to his will, he heareth us:
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