Erik Doxtader

ἔστω δὴ ἡ ῥητορικὴ δύναμις περὶ ἕκαστον τοῦ θεωρῆσαι τὸ ἐνδεχόμενον πιθανόν.(Estō dē hē rhētorikē dunamis peri hekaston tou theōrēsai to endekhomenon pithanon.)Let us define rhetoric to be "A faculty of considering all the possible means of persuasion on every subject."Rhetoric then may be defined as the faculty of discovering the possible means of persuasion in reference to any subject whatever.Rhetoric may be defined as the faculty of observing in any given case the available means of persuasion.Let rhetoric be [defined as] an ability, in each [particular] case, to see the available means of persuasion.The question of rhetoric's potential continues to provoke. What appears in Aristotle's attempt to name ..

The lost opportunity is overwhelming, an exigence in the full sense—a recollection of that which can only remain forgotten. In the midst of the storm, what to do now? If this is the question with which Walter Benjamin began, in a poem published in 1910 under the pseudonym "Ardor," it is one over which he kept a solemn vigil, rarely letting it slip from view, even as the border closed in the months not long after he rendered Klee's 1920 painting, Angelus Novus, into the emblem of a critique that seeks the "shard of weak messianic power" that comes to recognizability only in a history "filled full by now-time [Jetztzeit]" (2011, 22-23; 2003, 395). A hope then, a feeling that even as the storm from paradise blows ..

In identifying himself with language, the speaking man places his own muteness outside of himself, as already and not yet human. There is, perhaps, something barbarous in the assumption of the word. In the ontological equation that aligns the speaking being with the human being there may abide a gesture that can be neither heard nor interpreted. With the logos that we inherit “by nature” and then “by right,” according to Agamben, the cut between the human and the animal is made without a sound and undertaken in the name of excising that silence in which it is possible to ask after the ethical violence that attends the constitution of “humanity’s” language and the promise of language’s ..

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:For Today, There Will Be a Speech (and a Song) TomorrowErik DoxtaderFor we see that things that are going to be take their start from deliberating and from acting, and equally that there is in general a possibility of being and not being in things that are not always actual. In them, both are open, both being and not being, and so also both becoming and not becoming. And plenty of things are obviously like this.—Aristotle, De Interpretatione, IX*Wish again, four times again Four wishes deep into the well There's a price to pay for a wish to come true Trade a small piece of your life Roots in soil, uprooting the soil Mountain high, high mountain. The wish is only to speak a kind—Bob Mould, “Wishing Well”This is the time Because there is no time—Lou Reed, “There Is No Time” [End Page 311]The potential of rhetorical culture abides. In the subtle last lines of Norms of Rhetorical Culture, Tom Farrell imbued this potential with the aura of a (double) wish: when read with a forgiving spirit, the value of the “classical rhetorical tradition” appears in its capacity to “restore the power and resilience of the wish in the thought and expression of our civic life” (1993, 320). From within the history of our (not) being together, there are rhetorical goods to (be)come.Wishes must be made. Today, if it is not to betray the fact that a “rhetorical culture is something that must be cultivated,” our inheritance of rhetoric's potential is not a matter of fate. Far from given, although perhaps a gift that speaks volumes about our humanity, its appearance hinges on a choice to “uncover and engender new sources of creative reason” and to do so together, with an appreciation that this shared work is “unmistakably of ethical, aesthetic, and normative significance” (Farrell 1993, 11, 3). Confronted with such a task, as Farrell stressed again and again, “The question is how? How are we to find and develop the capacities that warrant and establish rhetorical study?” (1993, 65). And, from a theoretical and practical perspective, how can we struggle meaningfully with “our own nature as rhetorical creatures: an undiminished capacity to engage limitation through imagination, to find moral content in the experience of the other as audience, and wisdom through the collective production and enactment of logos ” (Farrell 1990, 83)? The rhetorical impulse coincides with the exigency of human experience that remains forgotten and yet unforgettable.1Knocking on modernity's door, Tom Farrell was deeply concerned with rhetoric's manifold potential. Over the course of a prolific career, he pursued the matter with passion, rigor, and integrity. He asked his colleagues, his students, and indeed his discipline to question conventional wisdom about the terms and power of rhetorical theory; interested in both everyday and extraordinary rhetorical practices, Farrell's criticism helped a field to see why its work counted as a vocation at the same time that he reached over the academy's walls in order to suggest that so-called mere rhetoric was quite a bit more complicated and much more important than perhaps some cared to admit. That his vision was compelling is evidenced not least by the numerous awards that he received for his work and the ways in which it continues to inform and shape critical thinking about the art of rhetoric.Just over two years after Tom's unfortunate and tremendously saddening death, this issue of Philosophy and Rhetoric pays tribute to his ground breaking work. Yet, as Farrell himself suspected, the risk that unbridled praise is the short road to bad infinity's silence brings the need for something more. Today, a consideration of his thought and writing demands a space [End Page 312] for critical reflection with practical significance, a forum—in Farrell's sense of the term—that affords an opportunity to ask both whether and how we might understand, extend, and indeed challenge Farrell's contention that rhetoric is the “collaborative manner of engaging others through discourse so that contingencies may be resolved, judgments rendered, action produced” (1990, 83). To these ends, this issue of the...

Anyone who does not simply refuse to perceive decline will hasten to claim a special justification for his own personal existence, his activity and involvement in this chaos. There are as many exceptions for one's own sphere of action, place of residence, and moment of time as there are insights into the general failure. A blind determination to save the prestige of personal existence—rather than, through impartial disdain for its impotence and entanglement, at least to detach it from the background of universal delusion—is triumphing almost everywhere. That is why the air is so thick with life theories and world views, and why in this country they cut so presumptuous a figure, for almost always they finally serve...

The absolute relation of name to knowledge-recognition [Erkenntnis] exists only in God; only there is name, because it is inwardly identical with the creative word, the pure medium of knowledge-recognition [Erkenntnis]. This means that God made things knowable-recognizable [erkennbar] in their names. Man, however, names them according to knowledge-recognition [Erkenntnis]. An act is—in connection with the perfected state of the world—not what happens now or “soon”: a demand cannot demand, or command anything now. They enter disjointedly, in symbolic concepts, into the now of knowability-recognizability [das Jetzt der Erkennbarkeit], for this now is filled and governed exclusively by..

What cannot be said? The question presses, as there are no words, or no fitting words, or no words that make sense let alone do justice, all perhaps in the face of demands to speak. And, as voice collapses in the midst of the violence that confounds reference, degrades language, imposes silence, and enforces repression—what cannot be said may turn on privation, the grounds, incentives, and intentions of expression that are banished, disappeared, and colonized, often in the name of deterring and containing the "dangerous" word, the word assumed to be violent, perhaps intrinsically and perhaps as it's held to contravene the homologeō with so much "barbarism." In this way, what cannot be said may also be a...

Anyone who does not simply refuse to perceive decline will hasten to claim a special justification for his own personal existence, his activity and involvement in this chaos. There are as many exceptions for one's own sphere of action, place of residence, and moment of time as there are insights into the general failure. A blind determination to save the prestige of personal existence—rather than, through impartial disdain for its impotence and entanglement, at least to detach it from the background of universal delusion—is triumphing almost everywhere. That is why the air is so thick with life theories and world views, and why in this country they cut so presumptuous a figure, for almost always they finally serve...

An isolated sentence—aphoristic, not fragmentary—tends to reverberate like an oracular utterance having the self-sufficiency of a communication to which nothing need be added.That is barbarian language you hear.There is no document of culture which not at the same time a document of barbarism.Zōon logon ekhon echoes. It rings, three unpunctuated words filling the air and resounding across the landscape. It reverberates, a fragment heard over and over, almost to the point where it seems to go without saying—almost. It reflects, an idea in which a question of beginning, perhaps the beginning, returns from the rock face as that which "has governed an enormous tradition", an origin story, a common...

Rhetoric and philosophy have long attended to the conditions, dynamics, and relative benefits of debate. Antiquity's deep concern for the relationship between debate and city-serving pedagogy remains an open question. In part through a shared commitment to argumentation theory, rhetoric and philosophy have agreed on and sparred over debate's constitutive and performative role in truth seeking, critical understanding, and collective action. With different and shared idioms, they have touted debate as a fundament of public life, investigated how debate may productively trouble norms of publicity, and reflected on whether the "problem" with the public lies with its reductive affection for debate as antagonism or its...

In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:Editor's NoteErik DoxtaderThe freedom of conversation is being lost. … Warmth is ebbing from things.—Walter Benjamin, One-way StreetInsufficient data for a meaningful answer.—Multivac (Isaac Asimov, The Last Question)This issue of Philosophy & Rhetoric, a somewhat rare double-issue, features significant and inspiring work that moves in a variety of directions and proceeds in a number of idioms, while also responding directly and indirectly to a complex exigence, though perhaps in a less familiar sense of the term, as what Giorgio Agamben calls a "messianic modality" that "coincides with the possibility of philosophy itself"—exigency as the expression of what remains unforgettable in the midst of all that is no longer remembered for the sake of history's progress. Appearing between contingency and necessity, exigency is not then a problem to be re-solved but the opening of a question; or more precisely, the epideictic expression of question-ability, the beginning of inquiry into what calls forth and perhaps even demands its possibility, for now.On what grounds do old questions stand? Through what power and by what happenstance are new questions found and formed? And when—in what kinds of moments do questions appear? With what force do they arrive? At what cost? What questions inflict violence? What violence thwarts a question? What do we (not) ask? How does the (un)questionable give way? Can multiple disciplines ever pose let alone inquire into the same question? What are the (de)constitutive elements of a good question? What does a good question do? Has pious genealogy corrupted the question? Does the discovery of a question remain one of the last "secrets," the unhinged authentic insight about which little can or should be said?A century ago, announcing the launch of Angelus Novus, Benjamin reflected on the moment and contended that the "vocation of a journal is to proclaim the spirit of its age." Such a task, in his view, demanded a strict "relevance to the present" even over "unity or clarity" and required exposing the "talented fakes" and resisting "the sterile pageant of new and fashionable events" that obscure how "impossible it is in our age to give a voice to [End Page 213] any communality [Gemeinsamkeit]." It is a tall and certainly debatable order, one that Benjamin himself was unable to realize—Angelus never got off the ground. But perhaps the underlying insight remains, the basic importance of holding space for work that discerns and expresses the potential of question-ability.This potential may well be the spirit-breath of an age. And, for now, here and now, it may well be a pressing question—on the shore of Ontario's Crawford Lake, waiting for official word that the Holocene has ended; in a largely unacknowledged transition, seemingly out of the pandemic's worst, ramping back up to speed, and yet deeply uncertain about the next normal; in the midst of the two "wars" (a term to which all participating parties will not agree) that make the front page (or the top of the feed) and the many that do not, the grotesque surfeit of increasingly automatic-droning violence unfolding on the grounds of sanctified rage that makes it difficult to ask let alone grasp what violence is; at the gates of the university, where so much inquiry is supplanted with so many strategic plans, and academic freedom is slowly juridified to the advantage of legislatures eager to rewrite the mission; and, in the midst of the noisy quietude that thwarts so many of the small inquiries into well-being that weave the fabric of public life.It's been a pleasure to work with all of those who have contributed to this issue of Philosophy & Rhetoric. Indeed, the pages that follow radiate with curiosity and insight. Together, they are an expression of inquiry in which question-ability remains unforgettable and there remains a moment to ask—after the question. [End Page 214]Copyright © 2024 The Pennsylvania State University...

As you well know, the milieu is a notion that only appears in biology with Lamarck. However, it is a notion that already existed in physics.... What is the milieu? It is what is needed to account for action at a distance of one body on another. It is therefore the medium of an action and element in which it circulates.It’s really hard to feel like you’re saving the world when you are watching Netflix from your couch. But if we do this right nothing happens. Yeah. A successful shelter in place means you’re going to feel like it was all for nothing. And you’d be right, because nothing means nothing happened to your family.The choice of the new word indicates that everybody knows that something new and decisive has...

Early days, things fallen asleep, hidden things, possibilities, melodies of the past and the future, timeless plans, float by, one after the other, and I feel rich under a hoard of gifts and must have hope. Then the day wakes, the nearness, the sharpness, and I am disturbed. I close my eyes in order not to see it, fall asleep again, heavily, am assailed by dreams, and frequently awaken only in the course of the afternoon without feeling restored.Now is never quite here, at least as we might hope, or as we might insist. Its inspiration is riddled with disappointment that provokes. And so on— never quite here, this now that both enlivens and restrains, an experience of chance and a moment of choice, a question of...

This issue of Philosophy & Rhetoric, a somewhat rare double-issue, features significant and inspiring work that moves in a variety of directions and proceeds in a number of idioms, while also responding directly and indirectly to a complex exigence, though perhaps in a less familiar sense of the term, as what Giorgio Agamben calls a “messianic modality” that “coincides with the possibility of philosophy itself”—exigency as the expression of what remains unforgettable in the midst of all that is no longer remembered for the sake of history’s progress. Appearing between contingency and necessity, exigency is not then a problem to be re-solved but the opening of a question; or more precisely, the epideictic expression of question-ability, the beginning of inquiry into what calls forth and perhaps even demands its possibility, for now.On what grounds do old questions stand? Through what power and by what happenstance are new questions found and formed? And when—in what kinds of moments do questions appear? With what force do they arrive? At what cost? What questions inflict violence? What violence thwarts a question? What do we (not) ask? How does the (un)questionable give way? Can multiple disciplines ever pose let alone inquire into the same question? What are the (de)constitutive elements of a good question? What does a good question do? Has pious genealogy corrupted the question? Does the discovery of a question remain one of the last “secrets,” the unhinged authentic insight about which little can or should be said?A century ago, announcing the launch of Angelus Novus, Benjamin reflected on the moment and contended that the “vocation of a journal is to proclaim the spirit of its age.” Such a task, in his view, demanded a strict “relevance to the present” even over “unity or clarity” and required exposing the “talented fakes” and resisting “the sterile pageant of new and fashionable events” that obscure how “impossible it is in our age to give a voice to any communality [Gemeinsamkeit].” It is a tall and certainly debatable order, one that Benjamin himself was unable to realize—Angelus never got off the ground. But perhaps the underlying insight remains, the basic importance of holding space for work that discerns and expresses the potential of question-ability.This potential may well be the spirit-breath of an age. And, for now, here and now, it may well be a pressing question—on the shore of Ontario’s Crawford Lake, waiting for official word that the Holocene has ended; in a largely unacknowledged transition, seemingly out of the pandemic’s worst, ramping back up to speed, and yet deeply uncertain about the next normal; in the midst of the two “wars” (a term to which all participating parties will not agree) that make the front page (or the top of the feed) and the many that do not, the grotesque surfeit of increasingly automatic-droning violence unfolding on the grounds of sanctified rage that makes it difficult to ask let alone grasp what violence is; at the gates of the university, where so much inquiry is supplanted with so many strategic plans, and academic freedom is slowly juridified to the advantage of legislatures eager to rewrite the mission; and, in the midst of the noisy quietude that thwarts so many of the small inquiries into well-being that weave the fabric of public life.It’s been a pleasure to work with all of those who have contributed to this issue of Philosophy & Rhetoric. Indeed, the pages that follow radiate with curiosity and insight. Together, they are an expression of inquiry in which question-ability remains unforgettable and there remains a moment to ask—after the question.

With this issue, Philosophy & Rhetoric launches two features. The first is a dedicated Special Section, a space for shorter articles addressed to a specific theme, problem, or question. The second, In Focus, is a book forum in which several scholars take up a recent leading monograph and the author of the monograph offers a reply to their reflections. These new features will appear regularly in coming issues. Individually and together, they seek to encourage directed study and hopefully a bit of debate on pressing issues and contested questions that appear at the nexus of rhetoric and philosophy.The inaugural Special Section is addressed to a question that was frequently and somewhat famously posed by Paul...