Hutton Lecture Response: Karen Kopelson

This was originally written in September 2010, in response to Karen Kopelson's lecture, "(Inter)disciplining Research Methods in Medical Rhetoric and Rhetoric of Science: W(h)ither Critique?" It has only been edited to add hyperlinks and paragraph breaks.

The power to define ourselves gives us agency. Whether it's defining our field or defining our bodies, the ability to inscribe boundaries allows us to grapple with what we are, and reach for what we want to be. In "Sp(l)itting Images; or, Back to the Future of (Rhetoric and?) Composition," Kopelson meditates on the oft-belabored split between theory and practice in Rhetoric and Composition, and the ways in which a forced marriage between the two can stifle productivity in either. In "Writing Patients' Wrongs," she explores how the internet is shifting the responsibilities of patients and doctors, and how this functions as both a benefit and a detriment. While the two subjects feel miles apart, the ways in which we perform identity weave them both together.

Apparently performing empirical research requires a strong grasp of identity as well. (I'll take Kopelson's word for it until Pat Sullivan instructs me otherwise.) In her lecture last Thursday, Kopelson discussed the medical profession, and how emic—an anthropological term referring to behaviors or beliefs as professed by those within the culture—and outsider perceptions can have tangible and/or ethical repercussions. As she illustrated with a simple change in medical terminology for intersex patients, what might seem like a neutral or clarifying label can polarize and exclude. Abstract discussion has concrete effect.

So how does this affect research methodology? Certainly we (should) want our theory to have connections to the practice of the "real" world. This means striving to publish articles where our subjects can read them, a task nigh-impossible when we speak a language our subjects can't understand. We must also, however, maintain the integrity of our own discipline through precision. Language is not always malleable. Sometimes we compromise, loading and overloading our work with numbers we can compile, rearrange, and grandly display. We look at our theorizing, and worry that other fields won't consider us "legitimate." We could become so obsessed with legitimacy that we forget from whom, exactly, we're purchasing it.

When researching other fields, we have to consider disciplined habits—our own, as well as others—and how making jargon and methods interdisciplinary can not only lead to fuzzy meanings, but also devalue the critical methods themselves. By attempting to appeal to a wider audience, we dull our own tools. How do we make ourselves accessible without undefining ourselves? How do we draw more funding attention without losing our souls?

We are driven by the impact imperative: the compulsion to mold our theory into some sort of pedagogy, and the need to prove that composition is, in fact, riddled with rhetoric. We want to prove that we matter, and we want to be recognized. That's normal; that's desirable. We must remember that critique can lead to change, but we must also remember that it doesn't, not always.

I liked the phrase Kopelson co-opted, the idea of the "piercing narrative." It's a bit jarring, and more than a bit violent, but sometimes we need to be shocked out of the narrative we tell ourselves. Maybe it's because I'm just starting out, but I'm continually struck by the dichotomies we embrace: rhetoric/composition, theory/pedagogy, WAC/WID, disciplined/interdisciplinary. Emic/Etic. Us/Them. We constantly tell our students that research—charts and "facts" and numbers—aren't presented within a vacuum. How do we use empirical research to construct a narrative? How do we use it to deconstruct our own narratives? And in the end, to what extent do we hold the responsibility, to what extent to we suffer from the ethical obligation, to deconstruct the narratives of the fields we subject to our gaze?