Theoretical Excerpt – Sheryl Dawson
Sheryl Dawson is a second-year graduate student in the online Master of Arts in English program at Indiana University. The theoretical essay excerpted below was created for Professor Edwina Helton’s W600, Mulitmedia, Visual Rhetoric, and Teaching Writing. Prof. Helton comments, “Sheryl offers ongoing commitment to use of writing to reflect and continue to grow as a scholar, especially in her pursuit of continued improvement in empowering her students.” Click on the white triangle below to hear Sheryl read from her paper.
Excerpt from Seminar Project in W660: “Visual Rhetoric and its Application to Secondary English Instruction: The Creation of a Nationalist Message through Nazi Propaganda”
Application to the Classroom/Thesis
Pairing our reading of Elie Wiesel’s memoir Night with a study of visual rhetoric in the form of propaganda posters and films used by the Nazi party in the subjugation of the Jewish people, this project is intended to help young high school students gain a better understanding of the persuasive forces that lead to the atrocities of the Holocaust.
Semiotic Theory
Roland Barthes, a 20th century French literary theorist was heavily influenced by Ferdinand de Saussure’s theories of language, which consisted of “a system of signs constructed by convention. Understanding meaning to be relational, being produced by the interaction between various signifiers and signifieds, he held that meaning cannot be understood in isolation” (Mambrol). Barthes expanded on linguistic theories and wrote several essays about the denotative and connotative properties of images. The anthology Image, Music, Text contains several assorted essays that examine the rhetorical power of images in the press, advertisements, and film stills. “The Photographic Message” begins with an analysis of a simple press photograph. Barthes claims “the photograph is not simply a product or a channel but also an object endowed with a structural autonomy” (p. 15). It is this last claim that Barthes analyzes the conditions on which it [photograph] can convey a message. He notes that the photograph “is not the reality but at least it is its perfect analogon” and one in which he initially classifies as “a message without a code” (p. 17). Because the analogon completely encompasses the first-order message, or denotation, it would appear there is no room for interpretation (second-order message). Barthes does counter with the acknowledgment of “analogical reproductions of reality – drawings, paintings, cinema, theatre” (p. 17).
He further elucidates that “the imitative arts comprise two messages: a denoted message, which is the analogon itself, and a connoted message, which is the manner in which the society…thinks of it” (p.17). Barthes counters with the assumption that the photograph only contains a first-order message but “leaves no place for the development of a second order message” (p. 18). Questioning that assumption, Barthes posits the idea that there are external forces at play with the photograph, those of production and reception. The former is more aesthetic in nature, dependent on the photographer, the publication, and societal norms, while the latter is concerned with the viewers’ perceptions. Therein lies the “photographic paradox”, which contains a duality of messaging: the photo itself that has no code and the production and reception angles that imply a code (p. 19). The objectivity of the “analogue” can be altered through various techniques that Barthes refers to as “a coding of the photographic analogue” which in effect can pose a second meaning beyond the denoted message of the photo (p. 20). The first three involve some alteration of the photo itself: trick effects, pose, and objects. Barthes asserts that the connoted message in the three techniques “is produced by a modification of the reality itself” (p. 21). The last three involve presentation techniques: photogenia, aestheticism, and syntax. In essence, the latter have to do with “embellishing” the original through lighting, blurring, replicating the piece of art through photography, and by presenting a sequence of photos that are slightly different enough to produce some implied meaning (pp. 23-24).
Another factor that complicates the true objectivity of a photograph involves adding any sort of accompanying text. He refers to the addition of the text as a sort of “parasitic message designed to connote the image, to ‘quicken’ it with one or more second-order signifieds” and describes the unintended consequences: “the image no longer illustrates the words; it is now the words which, structurally, are parasitic on the image” thus removing the denotative element. (p. 25). Regarding Nazi propaganda posters aimed at dehumanizing the Jewish population, Barthes’ line about “a coding of the photographic analogue” seems to apply in that the images on the posters were distorted through photogenia, and the accompanying text served to “quicken” (p. 25) its message of “they are inferior”. It is important to note that most posters did not contain actual photographs per se; however, Joseph Goebbels, the mastermind behind the Nazi propaganda machine, earned a Ph.D. in Philology prior to his association with the party and thus presumably understood the theories underlying the discipline of linguistics. The mass production of the propaganda posters and their ubiquitous presence likely resulted in the connotative message being internalized over time.
At the end of his essay, Barthes acknowledges that there are many factors at play that can influence the interpretation of a photograph, whether through photographic embellishments, misleading text, cultural and historical knowledge, and probably at the very root of this argument: cognitive psychology. He refers to the theories of cognitive psychologists Bruner and Piaget, which claim that “there is no perception without immediate categorization, then the photograph is verbalized in the very moment it is perceived” and that the “metalanguage” involved in the former process excludes a definitive denoted interpretation but jumps right to “an initial layer of connotation” (pp. 28-29). The propaganda posters, if viewed over time, would result in the categorization of which cognitive psychologists refer to as an “inner metalanguage” that would no doubt help strengthen the stereotype. One last observation about Barthes’ essay is in his discussion of traumatic photographs “about which there is nothing to say” (p. 31). The horrifying truth of the genocide known as The Holocaust became very clear to Americans in 1945 after Eisenhower and his troops liberated several concentration camps. Army photographers and journalists captured the gruesome images of the dead bodies and those who were barely alive. According to the General, “I made the visit deliberately, in order to be in a position to give first-hand evidence of these things if ever, in the future, there develops a tendency to charge these allegations merely to ‘propaganda’” (eisenhowerlibrary.gov). The photographs and films spoke truth to the Nazi atrocities. According to Barthes, “there is nothing to say”.
Visual Rhetoric
Roland Barthes poses the questions, “How does meaning get into the image? Where does it end? And if it ends, what is there beyond?” (p. 32). Barthes certainly lays the groundwork for visual rhetoric, but the prevailing thought among 20th century rhetoricians is still firmly grounded in the linguistic form. Twenty years after Barthes’ seminal compilation of essays, David Birdsell and Leo Groarke wrote extensively on Greek philosophy and argumentation in arguing for the legitimacy of visual rhetoric, claiming that visuals are still relegated to a secondary status under the assumption that a propositional format is near impossible to construct in an arbitrary or vague image. According to the authors, “this prejudice is a dogma that has outlived its usefulness” (p. 2). Even though the traditional objection asserts that visuals can be obscured in their message, “the inherent indeterminacy of language is one of the principal problems that confront us when we try to understand natural language argument” (p. 2).
Ultimately, the first step in arguing for the inclusion of visual arguments in the lexicon of rhetorical studies is to recognize that “the meaning of a visual claim or argument obviously depends on a complex set of relationships between a particular image/text and a given set of interpreters” and that “visual meaning is not necessarily arbitrary” (p. 5). Regarding the importance of context in a textual argument, not all words have a single meaning, “we look to companion sentences and paragraphs to ascertain contextual meanings which may or may not be corroborated by dictionary definitions” (p. 5). In comparison, images are rarely examined in isolation or is their meaning dependent on the accompanying text (pp. 5-6). In addition to recognizing the non-arbitrary nature of certain visual images and the contextual background, the third element of the argument illustrates aspects of representation and resemblance. The resemblance component is found in political advertising with the common technique of distorting candidates’ faces to create a positive or negative perception among voters (p. 8). Birdsell and Groarke conclude their argument by recognizing J. Anthony Blair’s claim that there is a distinct difference between argument and persuasion and that visuals tend to fall into the latter camp. The authors counter Blair by referencing Forbes I. Hill who writes of Aristotelian theory. He claims that “to come into a state of feeling, an auditor must make a complex judgement about himself in relation to external events” and that a rich visual can “argue a person into a state of feeling” (p. 9). Blair’s binary distinction becomes blurred when examining classical theory as Hill argues that “making appeals to feelings appeals to certain kinds of judgements” (as ctd. in Birdsell and Groarke, p. 9).
Sonja K. Foss, a Professor Emeritus of Communications at University of Colorado Denver, continues to build the argument for inclusion of visual rhetoric as part of rhetorical theory. Foss introduces her argument in an early call to action at the 1970 National Conference on Rhetoric and a recommendation to expand the traditional definition of the discipline. The participants that year recommended the inclusion of “subjects which have not traditionally fallen within the critic’s purview; the non-discursive as well as the discursive, the nonverbal as well as the verbal” and that a rhetorical perspective “may be applied to any human act, process, product, or artifact that may formulate, sustain, or modify attention, perceptions, attitudes, or behavior” (Sloan, et al, qtd. in Foss, p. 141). However, as much as the discussion surrounding the inclusion of images in rhetorical theory has circulated throughout academia, there is still a resistance to its legitimacy; as such, there is no formal pedagogy that governs the study. Foss recognizes the arguments made by the rhetorical purists, including John H. Patton “who suggested that a redefinition of rhetoric to include nonlinguistic symbols represented a kind of rhetorical dislocation and a break from clear connections with a central theoretical core” (p. 142). She also cites Kathleen Hall Jamieson who claims that “images are particularly susceptible to a truncation of argument and that the cognitive processing of images is less conscious and critical than the processing that occurs in… verbal discourse” (p. 142).
Despite the litany of objections to the acceptance of visual rhetoric, Foss continues to build her argument for inclusion through four subclaims. In developing a strong theory behind the practice, visual rhetoric will be taken more seriously by the practitioners of rhetorical study. The first is a claim that images must be symbolic, involve human interaction, and have the purpose of communicating with an audience (p. 144) and asserts that “as a tangible artistic product, such a visual artifact can be received by viewers and studied by scholars as a communicative message” (p. 145). The next subclaim recognizes the infancy of the theoretical base surrounding this study but does stipulate that there must be some perspective that underlies the practice that enables us to view images through “a set of conceptual lenses through which visual images become knowable as communicative or rhetorical phenomena” (p. 145). The third claim affirms the ability to apply deductive practices to an image by recognizing that “it remains a theory that describes symbolicity discursively, and analysis of the visual artifact largely affirms the discursive feature of the theory” (p. 148). Lastly, Foss maintains that “scholars who take an inductive approach to the study of images focus on the qualities and function of images to develop explanations of how visual symbols operate” and states that an inductive approach “has the potential to expand rhetorical theory beyond the boundaries of discourse and to open up possibilities for recognizing the different kinds of epistemologies that underlie different kinds of symbolicity” (pp. 149-150). In essence, Foss recognizes two meanings behind the incorporation of visual rhetoric in the larger study of rhetoric: the actual artifacts and the perspectives or approaches that guide the work of the rhetorical scholars (p. 151).
Keith Kenney, an Associate Professor of Journalism and Communications at the University of South Carolina, further supports his argument for the inclusion of visual rhetoric by noting that linguistic and visual rhetoric are not that dissimilar, and that components of traditional rhetorical studies do apply to visual rhetoric as well. Kenney reviews the basic tenets of classical rhetoric, which has an overarching belief that “people are, by nature, subject to and capable of persuasion because, unlike other species, we have the capacity to be rational” (p. 321). The classical tradition does recognize the psychological and physiological forces that can factor into a person’s decision to accept an argument, but that those appeals “are subsidiary to, or contingent upon, judgements resulting from rational means of persuasion” (p. 322). Kenney hearkens back to ancient times and examines the components of rhetoric. It was considered “public” in that the message was typically delivered to some sort of audience; “contextual” because of the essence of the rhetorical triangle (speaker, his audience, and the exigency of the argument); “contingent” since there were so many unknowns as to how the audience would interpret the message (p. 322). A speaker may assume he knows what to say and how to say it, but the audience may react unpredictably. (Think Brutus and Mark Antony swaying the unruly crowd two different ways, ultimately causing chaos to erupt in the streets of Rome.) As Kenney states, the rhetor’s choices “were assumed to be conscious decisions made to produce an intended effect on listeners; whether they were successful or not was sometimes left to chance (p. 322). Neo-classical critics still regarded “nonverbal and non-oral [messages] as being irrelevant to their concerns” (p. 323). However, in the 1970s, rhetorical criticism began to recognize the idea of “nondiscursive subjects” as containing a certain degree of persuasive power.
Kenney examines the research of Medhurst and DeSousa in understanding the rhetorical power of political cartoons. The researchers claim that Aristotle’s five canons can be aligned with the construction of a political cartoon. Cartoonists can be inspired by “topoi – political commonplaces, cultural allusions, character traits” all of which can serve as the subject. Just as speakers do, cartoonists too can organize via “contrast, commentary, and contradiction” and use the artistic substitutions for “verbal figures and tropes”, such as line and form, exaggeration of physiognomic features, and placement (p. 323). The trick for the cartoonist is “to compress into a single image the various streams of cultural consciousness from which he has drawn his idea” (p. 323).
Note: This theoretical excerpt is part of a 40-page project examining the power of visual rhetoric and specifically Nazi propaganda posters.