We're Willing to Risk Overexposure

I was at the Austin Bike Summit this weekend, and one of many things discussed was how to make cycling more mainstream, so that cycling is seen as normal behavior instead of as an aberration (the reasoning being that if cyclists are considered normal and acceptable on the road, drivers are less likely to engage in hostile behavior towards us, thus making cyclists safer). Among the ideas were examples of intentional advertising in cities with a successful cycling programs: bicycles are seen in advertisements for completely non-related products, for example, much as many adverts include cars regardless of what is being advertised, because cars are already a normal part of life. Then on Sunday morning I happened to see an ad for paint with a cyclist in it. Pretty cool, I think, although if I hadn't heard the previous day's discussion I'm sure I wouldn't have thought twice about it.

This fits in, I think, with what Edbauer says about rhetoric: "Rhetorical situations involve the amalgamation and mixture of many different events and happenings that are not properly segmented into audience, text, or rhetorician" (20). Was the paint ad designed to convince people to ride bicycles? No, the intention is to sell paint. The cyclist, along with other traffic pictured in the ad, contributes to the rhetorical situation of a busy city and thus the busy life of the woman (the paint in the ad is very pink, and only women are shown using it) who needs a hard-working paint. Was the cyclist a happy coincidence, or an intentional plant into this rhetorical framework? It could go many different ways: Perhaps the PR firm is trying to reach cyclists. Or city dwellers. Maybe they were greenwashing the paint, by subtly showing a green transportation at the beginning of the ad but not calling attention to it. Or someone responsible for the ad is a cyclist, and put in this little shout-out to him or herself.

To borrow what Edbauer says about "Keeping Austin Weird", the cycling message "is distributed across purposes and institutional spaces. It circulates in a wide ecology of rhetorics. To play off Shaviro's words, the force of 'messages,' as they accrete over time, determine the shape of public rhetorics" (19-20). For the cyclists gathered on Saturday, this would be the best possible outcome toward making cycling normal, visible, and accepted.

(By way of warning: If your comment is about how cyclists annoy you, then I will delete it. That's not the point of the post.)

Joy/Sadness

Spinoza, Edbauer reports, said "the same man can be affected by one and the same object in different ways at different times" (10). When I read this, I'm tempted to mutter "story of my life" and move on. My most recent example: I'm not doing particularly well in a class that I'm not particularly interested in (it's a science class, but I'm a Rhetoric major for good reason). When I realized this past week that the grade I wanted is totally out of reach, I was simultaneously depressed (there goes my GPA) and relieved (now I can stop working so hard at it and try something else). I don't know which feeling I'll land on by the end of the semester.

But that's not really what I wanted to talk about. Edbauer is writing about a real person, a real president, which is all well and good. But I'm going to retreat to the safer world of TV politics: The West Wing.

In the opening episodes of the third season (2001), as President Bartlet is about to announce his reelection campaign, the staff hears that the FDA is about to approve the morning-after pill. This sends them into a dither: on the one hand, they've been wanting this announcement. On the other hand, this gives fodder to their political adversaries: The Bartlet adminstration doesn't share their values. The dual announcements give rise to the same level of bifurcation within the staff as the joy/sadness split can in the same person. Or, as Spinoza also said, "Different men can be affected in different ways by the one and the same object" (9-10). Just as Bush's dialect difficulties caused a different reactions in different people, so would this politically charged announcement.

In both cases, it seems the guy in charge can't win. So, would it be best to try to dampen the reaction as best as possible? (In the TWW episode, the staff suggests postponing the event.) Or just go for it and hope for the best, as both Bush and Bartlet did? Which would be more likely to convince 50% of the electorate?

Raising Awareness

Edbauer writes that "the intensity, force, and circulatory range of a rhetoric are always expanding through the mutations and new exposures attached to that given rhetoric, much like a virus" (13). Her example of the "Keep Austin Weird" phenomenon fits this very well, but while reading, I thought of another-- the proliferation of causes all clamoring to "raise awareness".

I do want to be clear that I have no objection to causes. Social inequalities, environmental issues, various illnesses, and so on will not be fixed by ignoring the problem, so I applaud those who join in and spend their time and effort on a cause in which they believe. However, some causes do take on a life of their own and the rhetoric spreads until, I fear, it does more harm than good.

The biggest one, to me, is breast cancer awareness. The Komen foundation and others have done a fabulous job of getting the word out, raising funds, finding corporate sponsors, and so on. They have met with tremendous success in raising awareness of the threat of breast cancer and steps every woman can-- and should-- take to avoid losing her life to this disease. All well and good.

However, the "think pink" campaign has taken on a life of its own. I was confronted last fall by a Facebook friend who wanted to know why I didn't turn my page pink for the cure. My answer-- that I'm already aware of breast cancer and didn't need to turn my FB page pink-- did not satisfy her. I tried explaining that no one but me could see the pink page, and that not only was I aware, but also all of my FB friends are likewise aware of breast cancer, before I finally gave up and let her think that I'm an unfeeling jerk.

And my jerkiness doesn't end there-- if anyone should dare suggest that perhaps we ought to move on from awareness and spend some of this energy and money on research, the "awareness" advocates might well be offended. I'm not convinced that the Komen foundation began so that we could all buy all-pink products once a year (in addition to running our pink 5Ks), but that's what it has become for most people. We're so "aware" that the message has lost its punch-- and in fact, it's been co-opted for Facebook memes like posting the color of one's bra or the resting place of one's purse or, most recently, various types of fruit, all in the name of "raising awareness".  Actually, it just raises annoyance in those whose news feeds are now cluttered with unexplained, random phrases.

"Raising awareness" has turned into Edbauer's virus, spreading from cause to cause and mutating as it goes, until the whole point of the awareness is lost: Once we're all aware, we're also meant to do something. As long as "raising awareness" remains a buzzword for charities, they are likely to be progressively more ignored, because this is one rhetoric that has so expanded its range as to be commonplace.

Edited to add: Yeah, I read the wrong PDF. That's why this makes no sense. Pretend like you traveled in time to three weeks from now.