One of the most discussed parts of Kenneth Burke’s work is his “Definition of Man [sic],” a 21 page section in a single book. Putting aside his gender-specific language, it’s one of my “8 Burkean Concepts that are Better than the Pentad.” People have been trying to find an “essential definition” of humans–one that hits our important features and differentiates us from everything else–for centuries.
Appius Claudius Caecus is said to have coined the term Homo Faber (“Man the Maker”), though he was probably just the first to write it down (and have it survive). But apes, beavers, birds and other animals make things and even use tools. Johan Huizinga coined the term Homo Ludens (“the playing man”), but a lot of animals play.
Burke decided to go the more chatty route, and set up five parts to his definition. Let’s run through each of them. “Man [sic] is”:
“The symbol-using, (symbol-making, symbol misusing) animals”
Burke differentiates himself from Caecus in that the tools we use are symbols. We work through symbolic action, a keystone of his notion of Dramatism. This is somewhat in dispute, as many animals have been found to have complex systems of symbols. His example is that a bird can’t tell another bird how to exit a room through a window, but still, whales, porpoises, birds–even prairie dogs can convey sometimes detailed information. And if they didn’t make them themselves…
Burke also argues that we use condensation–we say furniture to mean tables, chairs, couches, beds, etc. But do other animals signal “predator” sometimes, and at other times, “Hawk” or “Wolf?” I don’t know, I’m asking.
Nevertheless, the symbol misusing portion is interesting, animals might do it by mistake; humans might misuse by mistake or by design.
“Inventors of the negative (or moralized by the negative)”
This one might blow your mind. In all likelihood, to any other animal, there is no concept of something being “not-something-else.” My dog might have a concept of her dish not having food in it–presence of a thing versus its absence–but does she think in terms of “Chicken, Brown Rice and Sweet Potato” flavor is NOT “Lamb and Rice” flavor? Does she think, “This couch is NOT the bed?” Can she conceptualize all the possible things that something could be instead–all of the things it is NOT? Burke argues this negation is an offshoot of language use–of symbolic action.
“Separated from their natural condition by instruments of their own making”
So yes, this includes technology, and Burke uses the example of the street lights going out, and everyone freaking out because it’s dark, when, of course it’s dark, it’s night. Nights are naturally dark.
However, it also applies to our symbols. In a conference paper and presentation, I argued that the fact that we coined the term “locavore” shows how far we’ve changed our world. There was a time when eating local food was the only option. Now you have to work hard to find and eat–exclusively–things that are produced close to your home, and we’ve coined a term for the wackos who do that hard work. The symbol change is an effect of the changes in transportation technology and the way we’ve restructured our food system.
But further still, the concept of the symbolic negative has removed us from our natural condition–we can now think and say that “Thou shalt not” do something. That hortatory no is at the same time paradoxical. To say we shouldn’t is to admit we could. This is the problem with all negations and erasures including “cancel culture,” it has to cancel something, so to cancel it, it first must reference it–and that referencing reinforces that the thing came first, the cancellation second–so negation reinforces the primacy of the thing negated. It always becomes, “I could steal, but I shouldn’t.”
“Goaded by the spirit of hierarchy (Or moved by a sense of order)”
Perhaps the most controversial part. Many theorists argue that we like order; putting things in categories is part of the human condition–it makes our lives easier as we invest less brainpower, when we don’t fall prey to oversimplification that leads to problems [racism]. Other theorists argue that we prioritize categories of people based on in-group, party or tribe. However, the idea that we put everything into a hierarchy may not hold true. And it leads to problems in the next part.
“Rotten with perfection”
This one might be culturally biased. Burke says that humans always strive to be better than what they are. A rock or a tree is fine with how it is, a human knows 1) that ze is not perfect, and 2) wants to be. This is problematic, because our notion of perfection can be altered by symbol misuse. Racism provides one problematic example. Beauty standards differ from culture to culture, but many people still strive to fit their culture’s ideal. Further, we strive even in the face of physical limitations. We can’t always be “harder, better, faster, stronger,” Kanye.
So that’s my take on it. Comments? Thoughts? Things I missed?
Source:
Kenneth Burke. “Definition of Man” Language as Symbolic Action 3-24.
I can suspend disbelief about Dragons that a) exist and b) can shift into human form, that c) some of them are just like us and d) despite completely different lifespans and therefore, presumably, life-cycles, that a 16-year old dragon raised in isolation might act exactly like a normal 16-year old girl, but I simply cannot accept a world in which–barring some cataclysmic meteorological event–waves on the same day on the same beach vary from the size one would take said 16-year old girl to learn how to surf (3-4′?) to 18′ monsters; not on the California coast.
Nor can I accept a world in which 2 surfers can ride a wave SIDE-BY-SIDE, or one in which they could ride the same board–without the specification of it being a longboard. This is beyond not doing your primary research, I don’t believe the author has ever BEEN to a beach.
That being said, it was an interesting premise, Romeo and Juliet with an anime-style love triangle and dragons.
I listened to this on audible, and the best part for me was that the male reader read the part of the female best friend with a Valley Girl accent, while the female reader read all the parts straight. It really added a dimension to Garrett’s character.
[Spoilers!] I LOVE a good quote, and there are some truly great lines in this show. From my top contenders from each episode (courtesy of www.planetclaire.tv), I’ve added some commentary, and put it into a ranked list.
10. From Episode 7: “The Idiot’s Lantern” (Mark Gatiss). Too bad using “transtemporal extirpation methods to neutralize the residual electronic pattern” never caught on as a phrase. Now the tech has moved on.
Rose: Will it… that thing, is it trapped for good on video [Betamax ;-)]? The Doctor: That’s right. Just to be on the safe side though, I’ll use my unrivaled knowledge of transtemporal extirpation methods to neutralize the residual electronic pattern. Rose: You what? The Doctor: I’m gonna tape over it. Rose: Just leave it to me. I’m always doing that.
9. From Episode 9: “The Satan Pit”(Matt Jones). The Doctor waxing philosophical, in the vein of Kenneth Burke, along with the second part of the earlier philosophical discussion.
Ida: What do you think? The Doctor: He gave an order. Ida: Yeah but. What do you think? The Doctor: It said “I am the temptation.” Ida: But if there’s something in there, why is it still hiding? The Doctor: Maybe we opened the prison but not the cell. Ida: We should go down. I’d go. What about you? The Doctor: Oh! Oh, in a second. But then again… that is so human. “Where angels fear to tread.” Even now, standing on the edge. It’s that feeling you get, hm? Right on the back of your head. That impulse. That strange little impulse. That mad little voice saying, “Go on! Go on. Go on. Go over, go on!” Maybe it’s relying on that. For once in my life, Officer Scott, I’m going to say… retreat.
Part II
The Doctor: There it is again. That itch. “Go down go down go down go down.” Ida: The urge to jump. Do you know where it comes from, that sensation? Genetic heritage. Ever since we were primates in the trees. It’s our body’s way of testing us. Calculating whether or not we can reach the next branch. The Doctor: No, that’s not it. That’s too kind. It’s not the urge to jump, it’s deeper than that. It’s the urge to fall!
8. From Episode 8: “The Impossible Planet” (Matt Jones). This tension between the Doctor loving humans and thinking we’re completely mad is also a theme of the reboot. Ultimately, I liked the tone of this entry from Jones better than that from Davies in episode 13.
The Doctor: Excuse me, Zach, wasn’t it? Zach: That’s me. The Doctor: Just stand there. ‘Cause I’m going to hug you. Is that all right? Zach: ‘Spose so. The Doctor: Here we go. Comin’ in! Human Beings. You are amazing. Ha! Thank you. Zach: Not at all. The Doctor: But apart from that you’re completely mad. You should pack your bags, get back in that ship and fly for your lives.
7. From Episode 4: “The Girl in the Fireplace” (Steven Moffat). Never listen to reason.
Reinette: You seem to be flesh and blood at any rate, but that is absurd. Reason tells me you cannot be real. The Doctor: Oh, you never want to listen to reason.
6. From Episode 0: “The Christmas Invasion”(Russell T. Davies). The only thing we know for sure about Doctor #10 is that he can talk.
Sycorax Leader: Who exactly are you? The Doctor: Well, that’s the question. Sycorax Leader: I demand to know who you are! The Doctor: I don’t know! See that’s the thing. I’m the Doctor. But beyond that I just don’t know. I literally do not know who I am. It’s all untested. Am I funny? Am I sarcastic? Sexy? Right old misery? Life and soul? Right-handed, left-handed? A gambler, a fighter, a coward, a traitor, a liar, a nervous wreck? I mean judging by the evidence I’ve certainly got a gob.
5. From Episode 3: “School Reunion” (Toby Whithouse). Tennant’s Doctor #10 rarely flexes, but here’s one of those times.
Finch: And what of the Time Lords? I always thought of you as such a pompous race. Ancient, dusty senators so frightened of change and… chaos. And of course, they’re all but extinct. Only you, the last. The Doctor: This plan of yours, what is it? Finch: You don’t know? The Doctor: That’s why I’m asking. Finch: Well show me how clever you are. Work it out. The Doctor: If I don’t like it, then it will stop. Finch: Fascinating. Your people were peaceful to the point of indolence. You seem to be something new. would you declare war on us, Doctor? The Doctor: I’m so old now. I used to have so much mercy. You get one warning. That was it.
4. Also from Episode 0: “The Christmas Invasion”(Russell T. Davies). The final bit reminds me a lot of Evil Dead 2, where Ash Williams cuts his hand off. Rather, it’s what I wish would have happened, and how Ash might react.
The Doctor[about his regenerated hand]: Of course I’m still The Doctor then. Rose: No arguments from me! The Doctor: Wanna know the best bit? This new hand? It’s a fightin’ hand!
3. From Episode 12: “Army of Ghosts”(Russell T. Davies). If Obi wan Kenobi taught us anything, it’s “always seize the high ground.”
The Doctor: Hm. There goes the advantage of surprise. Still, cuts to the chase. Stay here, look after Jackie. Rose: I’m not looking after my mum. The Doctor: Well you brought her. Jackie: I was kidnapped! Rose: Doctor, they’ve got guns. The Doctor: And I haven’t. Which makes me the better person, don’t you think? They can shoot me dead but the moral high ground is mine.
2. From Episode 2: “Tooth and Claw” (Russell T. Davies). The Doctor’s Scottish is hilarious. Rose’s…not so much.
The Doctor: 1979! Hell of a year! China invades Vietnam. The Muppet Movie. Love that film. Margaret Thatcher. Ugh. Skylab fell to Earth with a little help from me. Nearly took off my thumb. [Walking out of the TARDIS] And I like my thumb. I need my thumb. I’m very attached to—[Sees the armed men on horseback]—my thumb. [To himself.] 1879. Same difference. Captain Reynolds: You will explain your presence and the nakedness of this girl. The Doctor: Are we in Scotland? Captain Reynolds: How can you be ignorant of that? The Doctor: Oh, I’m dazed and confused. I’ve been chasing this wee naked child over hill and over dale. I’nt that right, ya timorous beastie? Rose: Och! Ay! I’ve bin oot and aboot. The Doctor: No, don’t do that. Rose: Hoots mon. The Doctor: No, really don’t. Really.
1. From Episode 4: “The Girl in the Fireplace” (Steven Moffat). The Doctor’s “drunken” put-downs are great: “You’re Mister Thick Thick Thickity Thick Face from Thicktown, Thickania. And so’s your dad.” LOL. I cut the rest to save space.
[The Doctor sways in, carrying a goblet and wearing his tie around his head.] DOCTOR: And still have begged for more. I could’ve spread my wings and done a thou. Have you met the French? My god, they know how to party. ROSE: Oh, look at what the cat dragged in. The Oncoming Storm. DOCTOR: Oh, you sound just like your mother. ROSE: What’ve you been doing? Where’ve you been? DOCTOR: Well, among other things, I think just invented the banana daiquiri a few centuries early. Do you know, they’ve never even seen a banana before. Always take a banana to a party, Rose. Bananas are good. Oh ho, ho, ho, ho, brilliant. It’s you. You’re my favourite, you are. You are the best! Do you know why? Because you’re so thick. You’re Mister Thick Thick Thickity Thick Face from Thicktown, Thickania. And so’s your dad.
So those are the top for me. True, there are others that didn’t make the list, but I had to make some cuts. Ricky’s rebel parking ticket policy was a favorite, but I cut it in favor of quotes from the Doctor. I also like when the Doctor gets clever in episode 7, but it sounded like a Groucho Marx bit.
Honorable mentions to the following bits of foreshadowing:
From Episode 11: “Fear Her” (Matthew Graham). What did you say?!? Foreshadowing.
Rose: I’ve got cousins. Kids can’t have it all their own way. That’s part of being a family. The Doctor: What about trying to understand them? Rose: Easy for you to say. You don’t have kids. The Doctor: I was a dad once. Rose: What did you say?
And from Episode 1: “New Earth” (Russell T. Davies). This dialogue with the Face of Boe spans multiple episodes and covers quite the plot twists. Here, it’s just textbook enigmatic.
The Face of Boe: I had grown tired of the Universe, Doctor. But you have taught me to look at it anew. The Doctor: There are legends you know. Saying that you’re millions of years old. The Face of Boe: Now that would be impossible. The Doctor: Wouldn’t it just. I got the impression there was something you wanted to tell me. The Face of Boe: A great secret. The Doctor: So the legend says. The Face of Boe: It can wait. The Doctor: Oh! Does it have to? The Face of Boe: We shall meet again, Doctor, for the third time—for the last time—and the truth shall be told. Until that day. The Doctor: That is enigmatic. That is textbook enigmatic.
Did I miss any? Which are your favorites? Comment and I’ll respond. Stay tuned for my Top 10 rankings.
Reading strategies are to qualitative research (looking at qualities or characteristics) what methods are to quantitative research (counting, looking at numbers). It’s a way to approach a text systematically, to ensure you’re not just subjectively writing whatever occurs to you.
I’ve heard reading strategies compared to cutting into a wheel of cheese. You are handed an unmanageably-large amount of cheese, and are told to cut it into useful segments. You have to decide, “What’s a useful amount?” and then decide, “How will I arrive at portions of that amount?” Do you cut it into segments, like a pizza or pie? Do you cut it into a grid? There’s a lot of ways to approach it, but you need to start somewhere.
Usually, critics use multiple reading strategies to make their arguments; however, one of the key tests of good criticism–along with novelty (say something new and interesting) and understanding (show you understood the text, and help me understand your argument)–is adherence: Once I understand your point of view and reading strategy, do I agree that your argument is valid, reasonable, etc.? Did you adequately cover all the important aspects, and not “stack the deck,” or manipulate the data?
Cluster Agon
Back in 1976, Carol Berthold found a reading strategy in the work of Kenneth Burke that was pretty useful. She called it Burke’s Cluster-Agon Method. It has four basic steps:
1. Select key terms
First, we read the text and find out which terms are important. Terms are words or phrases: ‘Murica, Freedom, First Amendment, Right to Bear Arms, etc.
Usually, these terms are used frequently, they are well defined or described (clarity), they are put into multiple contexts and link to multiple other terms. If you think a word might be important, a simple word search/find in a document or website will turn up every instance of a word. Remember to look for plurals (i.e. “Freedoms”) and other forms of the word.
Yes, counting how many times the term is used might give a clue (frequency), but more important are the force of the term and the way the term is used. Also, you should note when it’s used in a negative sense.
2. Arrive at an “Ultimate” Term
Rhetorical critic Richard Weaver talks about an “ultimate” or “god” term as “that expression about which all other expressions are ranked as subordinate.” (212)
In other words, if you had to pick one word that seemed to be more important than all the others in the text–one word that seems to relate to all the other important words–which would it be?
3. Find the “Good” Cluster
Determine “What goes with what”; particularly the terms that are paired favorably with the “ultimate” term. These are the “good” terms. These terms can be paired through cause and effect relationships (either they cause the “Ultimate” term, or are an effect of it), other logical connections, or just through imagery–storytelling, or describing an event or scene.
4. Find the “Bad” Cluster–the Agon
Determine “What is against What” to arrive at a “devil” term and “evil” terms. Technically, the “devil” term might be the “Ultimate” term, and the “god” term is the Agon, as might be the case in scare tactics or fear mongering.
As with the “good” terms, the “evil” terms can be paired to the “devil” term through cause and effect relationships (either they cause the “devil” term, or are an effect of it), other logical connections, or just through imagery–storytelling, or describing an event or scene.
Together, these terms form the Agon cluster.
Why do this?
Good question. Again, back to the “Wheel of Cheese” example, we have an unmanageable amount of “stuff” to get through, and we have to start somewhere. Perhaps you heard a term repeated so often it started to stand out. Perhaps it was the way the speaker said a term or a few terms (one comic says you can tell how racist a person is by how many H’s they pronounce when they say “white”).
Whatever your reason for starting the search, carrying it through to the finish can be enlightening. Yes, if you notice the first set of terms I mentioned: America, Freedom, First Amendment, Right to Bear Arms, etc. You’ll probably note the usual cast of terminological characters. However, there might be a big difference between a speech or text where the “ultimate” term is “America,” and a speech or text where the “ultimate” term is “Freedom.”
Further, when you start getting into the “good” and “evil” terms, you might find some surprises. For instance, what if “Right to Bear Arms” is positively linked to “Freedom” and “handguns” but negatively linked to “AR-15”?
Then there are the implications. As my first mentor, Elizabeth Mechling used to ask, “So what?/Who cares?” or more to the point, “Cui bono? [Who benefits?]” Rhetorical criticism is interested in power–who has it, who is getting more, who is losing it. What do these linkages tell us about our current system or culture? What changes do they seem to advocate and who would benefit from that?
Questions? Comments? Thoughts? Important links or arguments I missed?
Sources:
Carol A. Berthold, “Kenneth Burke’s Cluster-Agon Method: Its Development and an Application.” Central States Speech Journal,27 (1976): 302-309.
Richard M. Weaver, The Ethics of Rhetoric (Chicago: Henry Regnery Company, 1953), 212.
One guy remarks that this book is required reading for Air Force officers. As the son of a Master Sargent, I find that hilarious. Heinlein posits that several conservative, military assumptions are correct, and then invents a (science) fictional world in which this is true. As an act of imagination, it’s great. As proof of concept, it’s ludicrous.
Don’t get me wrong, I like the action, and the values expressed are admirable; however, the philosophy and its underlying logic are fundamentally flawed. Take his discussion of juvenile delinquents and the instruction of puppies (my pp. 120-125) versus the installation of morality in voters (my pp. 188-196) as a larger justification for the whole fictitious system.
In the former, he asserts that corporeal punishment is necessary as it accesses the pain system to instruct–that it is a time proven method to help instill morality in man, who has no innate sense of morality, and that the prohibition against it is pure liberal “fuzzy headed wishful thinking,” based in pseudoscience. Of course, the best current science says he’s wrong about punishment, and that psychological methods are both more effective and therefore more dangerous, but assume he’s right about man having no innate sense of morality and that man can be instructed.
In the latter, he asserts that we cannot just require service of everyone and give everyone voting franchise, because man must develop social and moral virtues himself, “if he has them thrust upon him, he will vomit them out.” So how is corporeal punishment not “thrusting moral virtue upon him?” Conversely, if children can be instructed, why not young adults? It’s fuzzy-headed wishful thinking fueled by flawed logic and conservative assumptions, and it’s further been debunked.
Perhaps the most quoted line from Kenneth Burke is that Literature is “Equipment for Living” (Counter Statement), so I decided I needed to dedicate some space to what that means as part of my series on 8 Burkean Concepts that are Better than the Pentad. Present post included, we also have: Dramatism, Terministic Screens, Perspective by Incongruity, Cluster-Agon, his Definition of Man [sic], Identification and Consubstantiality, and finally, the Representative Anecdote and Cult of the Kill.
For Burke, literature as “Equipment for Living,” means that we look to popular culture for stories on how to live our lives. If we’ve never seen a black person or a gay person before, but we’ve watched them on television, we may still feel comfortable around this new person because they aren’t completely foreign to us–we think we know who they might be (for better or worse). We also watch shows and see how people work through difficult situations, and if we find ourselves in a similar situation, we might act the same way. It’s the entire reasoning behind the After School Special. The same can be true of situations we encounter when watching sitcoms and stand-up, but more usually, we learn “What not to do.”
The point is that books, plays, movies, television shows and yes, stand up comedy specials are important–perhaps more important than the formal speeches of Great Orators–because they may influence people’s daily lives. We should, therefore, be studying popular culture to see what messages are being conveyed.
Questions? Comments? Thoughts? Important stuff I missed?
Sources:
Burke, Kenneth. Counter Statement. Berkeley: University of California, 1968.
[Spoilers!] After watching the TV show I really didn’t like this book. Parts of it were interesting. I liked the discussion of Wu (negative) in art, and the discussions of historicity or historical authenticity. Does an object gain depth of meaning because it is part of a larger historical context? Is a Zippo lighter previously owned by John Wayne a better Zippo than all others of its run? People seem to think so.
And maybe I was spoiled by watching the initial episodes of the TV series on Amazon Prime, which have as much to do with this book as Bladerunner did with Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? However, the major components of the book that contribute to the conclusion are entirely absent from the TV show. But put that aside.
In the book, prominent elements of the story and prominent characters have no bearing on the conclusion, and the conclusion is untenable and unexplained. There’s a brief moment where it seems there will be a dimensional shift, but (spoiler) that doesn’t pan out. The entire idea of The Grasshopper Lies Heavy is so different in the book, and so unremarkable, that it’s absurd–it’s an actual book, a piece of fiction, not a visual, historical document, like in the show. Overall, pass on the novel and see what the TV folks are able to do with the concept.
12. The Santa robots, from Episode 0: “The Christmas Invasion” (Russell T. Davies)are just the forerunners of the Sycorax, but as I’ve mentioned, the two don’t really connect. The idea of deadly Christmas characters and ornaments is neat, and yeah, they kill a few humans, but they’re no match for the Doctor, and they know it.
11. The Sisters of Plenitude, Cat-nuns from Episode 1: “New Earth” (Russell T. Davies) who are artificially creating humans to test their cures. Though they have power (and claws), they aren’t particularly troubling–or engaging.
10. The Abzorbaloff, from Episode 10: “Love & Monsters” (Russell T. Davies), absorbs people into its body–but not so that they’re dead. More that they’re symbiotically attached–he’s living off them, they’re living off him. This isn’t even dramatic irony, as it’s unclear what the monster gets from his victims–aside from continuous existence [can’t he just have a sandwich?] yet they seem to maintain some autonomy. [I’m just sayin’, a sandwich has never questioned my life choices…]
9. The Krillitanes from Episode 3: “School Reunion” (Toby Whithouse) are allergic to their own bodily secretions, and have a large supply of Krillitane oil on hand to make the children of an English prep school smart enough to decode the “Skasis Paradigm,” a theory of everything. So points for dramatic irony in that their medium of victory is also the cause of their defeat, but negative points in this competition–they really should have seen this coming, with or without the Doctor.
8. “The Wire,” from Episode 7: “The Idiot’s Lantern” (Mark Gatiss) is an alien converted to electricity that wishes to use televisions to consume minds (and faces), hoping to rebuild its body. While scary–furthering the premise that television [is sucking/]can be used to suck out our souls [I know The Bachelor and the national news suck mine] and perhaps some of our vitality (faces?)–and close to success, “teamwork makes the dream work,” and the Doctor easily defeats it. Any villain that can be trapped on Betamax is not worth worrying about.
7. “The Beast,” from Episodes 8 & 9: “The Impossible Planet”/”The Satan Pit” (Matt Jones), is thought to be the origin of myths of evil incarnate, Satan, etc. While “The Beast”/Satan is apparently all-powerful and “ooh-scary,” the solution is staring everyone in the face: drop it into the black hole. Why is this an issue? Of course, if the being/Satan existed before there was matter to form black holes, what good would any of that do? [Did the Doctor just release evil back into the world?!? Was it ever really gone? Frankly, the being is trapped in a small backwater of reality, and easily defeated by people other than the Doctor, so what’s the problem?
Sycorax
6. The Sycorax, a Klingon-esque race from Episode 0: “The Christmas Invasion” (Russell T. Davies) that wants to enslave half the population, or it will kill roughly a third. First off, negative points for being derivative. And then there’s the fact that, rather than seizing control, they’re basically waiting for permission to take over–“Give us power or we’ll kill 1/3”, not “We are in control and you will yield or die.” Plus, while their blood-control is scary to humans, ultimately it’s not dangerous. Sure, the leader cuts off the Doctor’s hand, and is a bit treacherous, but really, they’re not much of a threat.
5. The Cybermen from Episodes 5 & 6: “Rise of the Cybermen”/”The Age of Steel” (Tom MacRae) and from Episodes 12 & 13: “Army of Ghosts”/”Doomsday” (Russell T. Davies) take many forms over the years, as they are classic Dr. Who nemeses, first seen opposite the 1st and 2nd Doctors (William Hartnell and Patrick Troughton, respectively) in The Tenth Planet (1966). These iterations are creations of John Lumic, who is dying and seeking a path to immortality through cyborg technology. So why do they have lasers and no emotions? Well, obviously, the lasers are because people might not “get” his vision–duh. And the emotions are necessary, as it turns out, to combat the crushing sadness they feel when they discover what they are–again, dramatic irony; their biggest strength (lack of emotion) is their biggest weakness (the return of emotions). Similarly, the technology that allows them to take over all humans creates the network that can be used for their downfall. Further, they are as annoying as the Dalek, and with these fatal flaws, easier to defeat, which pre-sages the battle to come.
4. The Dalek from Episodes 12 & 13: “Army of Ghosts”/”Doomsday” (Russell T. Davies), particularly the Cult of Skaro–a small band tasked with improving the Dalek species–keeps returning like a bad penny. The Cult of Skaro have created a Void Ship–which the Doctor says is impossible–and captured Time Lord technology, a Genesis Ark, which turns out to be a space-time prison containing millions of Dalek. So, their ability to create new tech makes them terrible, but, ultimately–through another bit of dramatic irony–still susceptible to the fatal flaw that sends them all to the Void.
3. The Ood, the subservient aliens from Episodes 8 & 9: “The Impossible Planet”/”The Satan Pit” (Matt Jones) are a bit creepy. Whom are they really meant to serve? Where do their loyalties lie? And when they mass together, they can really cause a problem. Still, I “love an Ood.”
2. The Isolus, from Episode 11: “Fear Her”(Matthew Graham) is a bit scary. The insatiable, childlike need for friends, and the lack of understanding of what it’s doing are horrific. Imagine if someone could trap everyone they could cyber-stalk…. Further, the Doctor has no solution, save getting it out of the universe by reinvigorating its ship. Or perhaps the Doctor could have destroyed it, but chose to give it its ship back–still, that’s not the way its framed.
1. The Werewolf–or rather, “lupine wavelength haemovariform“–from Episode 2: “Tooth and Claw” (Russell T. Davies) is an alien entity that infects humans through bites, has an aversion to mistletoe, and likely infects the royal family through Queen Victoria. The Doctor is no match for this being, and it’s devout group of warrior monks. [When did the Shaolin invade Scotland again?] The only way he could do it was with the posthumous help of Prince Albert, who built the trap into Torchwood. So the “lupine wavelength haemovariform“/human hybrid is on second only to the Reapers when it comes to beating the Doctor–they still have an exploitable flaw, but one it takes a lot of planning to defeat.
In Series 1, I chose interaction with the Doctor over classic creatures, most dangerous and most frequently appearing. Here, none of the aliens–save the Sisters of Plenitude–interacted with the Doctor on an individual level, which is unfortunate. And their interaction wasn’t helpful to the solution. The aliens of this season were mostly adversaries and Others, not fellow beings. For me, it was the Doctor’s difficulty in overcoming the alien that turned the decision his season.
Questions? Comments? Thoughts? Disagree? Let me know!
Burke contrasts his Dramatism with the traditional methods, which he calls Scientistic. The scientistic, he says, names and defines things; it says “It is, It is not.” So we might say the scientistic strives to be relatively objective [though there are problems here, as arguments of fact/definition are a basic level of argument. When we establish what something is and what it is not, we partially determine how we can treat it. Is it a baby, or a zygote? Can we treat one differently than the other, etc].
In contrast, the Dramatistic expresses, commands and requests. It is attitudinal and hortatory–it provides an emotional value and an urge to act. It stresses Language as Symbolic Action [see next section]. The Dramatistic says, “Thou shalt, thou shalt not.” Thus, the Dramatistic, is, for Burke, the realm of rhetoric, where we seek to persuade people to act.
Motion vs. Action
Burke differentiates, between what he calls Motion and Action. Motion, he says, is natural, it’s grounded in the physical realm, and follows the rules of simple cause and effect. Motion can occur without Action.
On the other hand, Action is a result of human activity, and it’s grounded in symbol use and a dramatic interpretation of situations. Action cannot occur without Motion.
This distinction is a bit like (and pre-dates) Michel Foucault’s concept of prediscursive, things–objects, bodies, events, practices and institutions–that exist in the world independent of how we talk about them (the discursive). But collapsing the two is a bit tricky. [I find Foucault much more expansive and nuanced.]
Foucault’s events, like rainfall, might best work with Burke’s concept of Motion. If rainfall is Motion, then we can add the “discursive” layer of news reporting: Should you bring an umbrella? Will there be enough rain for crops this season (and what should farmer’s do)? What’s the likelihood of flooding (and what should everyone do)? etc. That’s Action, it’s entirely conducted through the use of symbols and is dependent on–but in some respects untethered from–the event of the rain.
Conclusion
These distinctions are perhaps integral to everything Burke writes, and provide a basic understanding of what he means when he talks about symbolic action. Once we’re talking about human interaction with “facts,” we’re automatically adding layers of influence and persuasion.
Sources:
Burke, Kenneth (1966). Language as Symbolic Action. University of California: Berkeley, CA.
[Spoilers] Once you really start getting into the premises and logical extensions of the episodes (i.e. doing criticism), sometimes things break down. Premises can be disturbing because, if true, they’re scary, or they can be disturbing because they don’t make sense. I’ll rank them in a subsequent post, but here’s what I find scary, odd and/or incomprehensible, broken down by episode:
Episode 0: “The Christmas Invasion” (Russell T. Davies): The first thing that’s odd carries over from the Series 1, episode 13: Time Lords are immortal; they don’t have to die, but can choose to regenerate. So why aren’t there more of them? Oh yes, the Doctor killed them all.
Next, there are creatures called “pilot fish” that sense energy emissions, either from Time Lord regeneration or from the Time Vortex, it’s unclear], and travel through space to harvest the power. However, they’re precursors to the Sycorax, but the Sycorax aren’t here to harvest the energy, so why the pilot fish? It seems like they just wanted to use creatures/droids disguised as Father Christmas and Christmas trees to terrify.
There are secret agencies in the world that deal with monsters and aliens. The idea of secret bodies of government keeping people safe is a staple of British fiction (see James Bond, Mission Impossible, the Avengers [not that one], etc.), and will become a theme of the reboot; UNIT (UNified [or United Nations] Intelligence Taskforce) is one, Torchwood will be clarified later. But the idea is, the Doctor comes and goes; the Earth needs more stable protection.
Sycorax
Colonialism–as perhaps an extension of Capitalism–is alive and well in the universe. We addressed the latter in Series 1, but whereas the Slitheen wanted to irradiate and sell off pieces of Earth (killing everybody), the Sycorax want the land, minerals, precious stones, AND to sell half the population into slavery–so which one’s worse?
You can mind-control/hypnotize people through their blood. Blood is powerful in this show, but the idea that it could be used in mind-control is preposterous.
[Some] Aliens have to recognize and obey the “sanctified rules of combat.” The Dalek didn’t, the Gelth didn’t, but who’s counting? Also, the Sycorax leader cheats and tries to kill the Doctor when his back is turned, so this is a very loosely followed convention.
Thanks to Torchwood, the earth is apparently now a Death Star. On Harriet Jones’ orders, five green beams come off of the earth, meet in space and destroy the Sycorax ship. Where have we seen that before? And when will we see it again?
Episode 1: “New Earth” (Russell T. Davies): Apparently, Lady Cassandra O’Brien’s consciousness wasn’t housed in her physical, two-dimensional body (because that would be impossible) but in her brain, which was saved (off to the side). However, her consciousness can be transferred to another human through a “psychograft,” which at first requires a device and a lot of energy (they trip the breakers). Apparently, it’s banned tech that compresses the consciousness of the original host. However, then Lady Cassandra transfers her consciousness just by exhaling on the Doctor? And the later transitions don’t even rely on that!
Genetically engineered and cloned humans will spontaneously develop speech. This one’s a bit old: Either animals (including humans) have a type of species-memory, or it’s the “100 Monkeys effect” where “a new behaviour or idea is said to spread rapidly by unexplained means from one group to all related groups once a critical number of members of one group exhibit the new behaviour or acknowledge the new idea” (Wikipedia is about as good as it gets on this one).
The genetically engineered and cloned humans are infected with every known disease in the universe simultaneously, and yet none of these diseases are airborne? The Doctor says, “The air’s sterile,” but how is that even possible?
Episode 2: “Tooth and Claw” (Russell T. Davies): So, precursor to Torchwood, the Torchwood estate has been built as a trap for an alien, werewolf-like life-form. It is passed through bites, is allergic to mistletoe, and turns its host into a werewolf in the moonlight. Later, it explains the strange blood disease of the Royal family, which supposedly began with Queen Victoria.
The most famous diamond in the world, the Koh-i-Noor, which was constantly cut and recut by Prince Albert, was purposefully designed to refract moonlight and force the alien/werewolf back into human form so the guards can defeat it. Both of these premises follow the trend of explaining weird historical phenomena, landmarks and architecture (like the Eye of London, in season 1).
Episode 3: “School Reunion” (Toby Whithouse): Scientists have long sought a “Master Theory” or “Theory of Everything” (ToE), but the Doctor’s universe actually has one: the “Skasis Paradigm,” a theory of time and space. Too bad no one can decode or understand it, which brings up the next point:
Humans, after ingesting Killitane oil, become much smarter, and thus have the capacity to do lots of mental work. That, plus their childish imagination allows them to decode the “Skasis Paradigm.” But apparently, the Krillitanes keep eating the promising students?
The Krillitanes themselves, apparently, can genetically modify themselves to absorb physical traits from other species. That’s perhaps the smartest thing in these episodes. Honestly, what species wouldn’t do that? Except:
Finally, though the oil is described as “Krillitane oil,” it is apparently extremely toxic to the Krillitanes themselves. The Doctor explains that they’ve evolved too far away from their own secretions, but where did the oil come from then? And barrels of it?!? Do they still secrete it, and have to get rid of it immediately? Are they constantly scraping the stuff off themselves (or out of themselves)? Ew.
Episode 4: “The Girl in the Fireplace” (Steven Moffat): We’ve already had the idea of technology misguidedly trying to repair a system it doesn’t seem to understand. In Series 1, it was the nanogenes thinking every human needs a gas mask and to be reduced to a child-like state. Here, it’s ship-repair droids, missing the parts for the repair, and instead using parts of the crew. So the ship is now a cyborg amalgamation. That’s pretty out there.
Then there’s the idea that, though these repair droids can’t find some basic parts, they CAN build a device to punch a hole in time and space to 18th-century France to obtain a single part they need. Honestly, if they can do that, why not punch a whole in time and space to a spaceport? Or a parts warehouse? How about a dry-dock?
Episodes 5 & 6: “Rise of the Cybermen”/”The Age of Steel” (Tom MacRae): Granting the parallel universe theory (which was put forth in Series 1, “Father’s Day”), the Tardis is a living being–grown, not made–as we found out in Series 1 (“Bad Wolf”/”The Parting of the Ways”), and this creature apparently feeds off the energy of the Universe, so, different universe “It’s like diesel in a petrol engine.”
our entertainment technology will be used to take us over. We saw this premise in Series 1 with Satellite 5 in Episodes 12 and 13. There, reality TV was turned into a death sentence, as the Dalek mined individual human cells for candidates for the creation of new Daleks.
Here, in a parallel universe, tech designer John Lumic sells everyone EarPods, an ear-gear device that gives people neural access to the internet, but also allows for their mind control, and later conversion into Cybermen.
Episode 7: “The Idiot’s Lantern” (Mark Gatiss): Ok, here we go again with entertainment technology will be used to take use over. This time, it’s “The Wire,” a being that has converted itself to electricity to escape punishment on its homeworld and is using televisions to consume minds (and faces) and hopefully to reconstruct it’s body (although how that’s supposed to happen is unclear).
Episodes 8 & 9: “The Impossible Planet”/”The Satan Pit” (Matt Jones): Ok, so the big one: Satan was an historical fact in the universe; he’s eternal, and has to be kept on an asteroid, orbiting a black hole–because?!? Why the, “you’ll stay here, and if you try to escape, we’ll chuck you in!” Why not just chuck him in and have done with it?
Then there’s human nature: If there’s something to discover, we’re going to try. Perhaps true.
The Ood are problematic. How convenient, a species that likes to be enslaved. That’s a bit racist in its conception, as Rose points out.
Then there’s the Doctor’s hang-up. That the devil would have had to exist before matter and time. And when was that exactly, anyway?
Episode 10: “Love & Monsters” (Russell T. Davies): I submit: the Abzorbaloff, a being that absorbs people, without itself becoming bigger, and yet they retain enough agency to foil his plans.
Episode 11: “Fear Her” (Matthew Graham): The Isolus: a creature whose technology requires both heat and “emotional strength,” and both are provided by the Olympic torch, as people are caught up in the spectacle.
Oh, and that the Doctor can just jump in, grab the torch run along and light the flame at the games without being tackled by three dozen police or soldiers.
Episodes 12 & 13: “Army of Ghosts”/”Doomsday” (Russell T. Davies): Secret government agencies again–this time Torchwood–are studying alien phenomena to keep Britain safe.
Once again, we see that landmarks are used for nefarious purposes. Here, it’s Canary Wharf, a skyscraper built entirely to reach the spatial disturbance Torchwood wants to study.
The concept of a Void ship, or of the Void period. The void is explained by the Doctor thusly,
The space between dimensions. There’s all sorts of realities around us, different dimensions, billions of parallel universes all stacked up against each other. The Void is the space in between, containing absolutely nothing. Imagine that. Nothing. No light, no dark, no up, no down, no life, no time. Without end. My people called it the Void. The Eternals call it the Howling. But some people call it Hell.
Granting the parallel universe theory (which was put forth in Series 1, “Father’s Day,” and reinforces in this Series in “Rise of the Cybermen”/”The Age of Steel”), the idea that there is there a space between universes, between dimensions is a bit radical. The Doctor says the Void ship exists outside creation, but he previously balked when the Devil said he was outside creation (specifically, preexisting creation), so can we go outside it or not? And where did the Cult of Skaro get it?
Then there’s the idea that the movement into and out of the Void cracks creation, and other beings can travel across that crack–indeed, humans can make the cracks bigger, thus the “ghosts” and the parallel Torchwood teleport devices.
The mind controlling earpieces are back as well, as are the Cybermen. That’s one I missed in Series 1: That we can strip humans of emotions–not just make them cyborgs–to create Cybermen, or that we can focus on the cellular level on a human’s capacity to hate. Which are the “hate cells” anyway? Which are the emotion cells? And yet, the process is incomplete, as Yvonne proves.
The Doctor says he wiped out all Dalek, but the Cult of Skaro keeps coming back like a bad penny. Fine. But where did the Genesis Ark come from? Supposedly, the Time Lords, in their infinite wisdom, created a pocket of space time to entrap millions of Daleks–who may or may not have any food or recreation (or are they trapped in suspended animation as well?)–and encoded it to only open in response to background radiation of the Time Vortex, passed on through touch. So the Doctor didn’t wipe out the Dalek?
But then again, in sucking the Cult of Skaro and all the Dalek and all the Cybermen into the Void, the Doctor does wipe them all out–for good?
As usual, I’ll take comments and suggestions before revealing my favorites. So what’s your vote for the most disturbing premise? Did I miss anything? Let me know in the comments.
