The Cult of the Expert. Or, Thanks a lot, Plato

Our discussion of the publicity (public nature) of this blog and some anxieties we might have related to this got me thinking...about Plato.

Plato, the middle (temporally speaking) "great" Greek philosopher, kicked it with both Socrates and Aristotle, and is known, through his works as being a bit hostile to rhetoric. One of Plato's fundamental concerns was that someone who was a good speaker, but not an expert on a subject, would persuade an audience over someone who could not speak as well, but was an expert. I believe one of the examples he gives in The Gorgias is: what if, in deliberations over whether to build more ships, the word of the orator persuaded over the word of the shipbuilder? (The shipbuilder being the expert in this case).

Disclaimer: I am not an expert in Classical Rhetoric. I have not read all of Plato's works. Why, then, do I even bring Plato up? Because I think that one of Plato's legacies, along with a suspicion of someone who can speak well (see: campaign criticisms of Deval Patrick and Barack Obama), is undue reverence for "the expert."

Let's see if I can continue my sloppy trudge through history, jumping to the 1950s United States. The 1950s (and post-WWII era more generally) saw a boom in "expert culture." From the bomb to home life, U.S. Americans looked to "experts" for guidance.

Certainly, I think most of us can agree, the "cult of the expert" also manifested itself in the university (and education more generally). Participants in the educational system are conditioned into set roles, like in a play. I, the teacher, will be reprising the role of "expert," and you, the student, will play the role of "sponge," absorbing information passively.

So, yes, there is a strong stigma against speaking, against trying to teach or persuade, when you are not "the expert." A cult that is over 2000 years in the making.

How the hell do we fight back against that?!?! And, is it a worthwhile project? These are questions that I want to explore in this class, but for now, a tentative exploration.

Once, I stood before my public speaking class and declared: "I am not an expert public speaker. I frequently talk too fast and make jokes that are probably not adapted to my audience (but you should laugh anyway). I am not an expert in public speaking, and frankly I'm not convinced that such a thing exists. If you came here for me to impart some expert knowledge to you through my lectures, that is not going to happen. I have knowledge, but I am also learning each day along with you." (But let's face it, I probably said it less eloquently than that because most of us academics are more comfortable with written rather than spoken expression).

To accompany this, I did some very bell hooks exercises about "the classroom as community." I think that this went over fairly well. We talked in groups and as a class about how we wanted discussions to work and posted guidelines to the Moodle website.

Did it work?

Let me be the ambivalent academic and say "yes and no." Yes, I think that it made students more invested in the class in many ways and made me seem more approachable; if I'm not an expert, I'm someone who they can talk to, ask questions of.

That said, I have two concerns:

1) The first is similar to the one that has been raised. When I no longer embody (because let's remember, bodies are important in thinking about the classroom) "the expert," I am in my own body -- that of a young, white, female (not that I am not those things as an "expert" but that is something to explicate at another time). What happens when students try to take advantage of the (somewhat) leveled power relations in ways that I find problematic (i.e. sexist, ageist, etc.)?

2) How do I deal with occasions where I need to be "the expert"? Today I had a really great conversation with Robin about what to do when extensive history or background is important to the course. For me, the stakes are raised when this is a "missing" or "hidden" history (to use intercultural communication terminology). For instance, in a course like African American Civil Rights Rhetoric or the Rhetoric of Feminism, there is often a great deal of history that is important to understanding the texts being studied that the students often haven't had any exposure to. What are some strategies for involving students in learning that history?

For now, I windedly sign off. Brendan Fraser had a talk show in the late 90s or early 2000s (yes, this happened). On it, he said something like, "I like how I can go online and my screen name is "Frendan Braser" and no one knows who I am." On that note,

-Paitlyn Katia