At last! Quotations from my new hero, Neil Postman. :O)
"A written sentence calls upon its author to say something, upon its reader to know the import of what is said. And when an author and reader are struggling with semantic meaning, they are engaged in the most serious challenge to the intellect. This is especially the case with the act of reading, for authors are not always trustworthy. They lie, they become confused, they over-generalize, they abuse logic and, sometimes, common sense. The reader must come armed, in a serious state of intellectual readiness. This is not easy because he comes to the text alone. In reading, one's responses are isolated, one's intellect thrown back on its own resources. To be confronted by the cold abstractions of printed sentences is to look upon language bare, without the assistance of either beauty or community. Thus, reading is by its nature a serious business. It is also, of course, an essentially rational activity." (50)
"It is quite likely that most of the first fifteen presidents of the United States would not have been recognized had they passed the average citizen in the street. This would have been the case as well of the great lawyers, ministers and scientists of that era. To think about those men was to think about what they had written, to judge them by their public positions, their arguments, their knowledge as codified in the printed word. You may get some sense of how we are separated from this kind of consciousness by thinking about any of our recent presidents; or even preachers, lawyers and scientists who are or who have recently been public figures. Think of Richard Nixon or Jimmy Carter or Billy Graham, or even Albert Einstein, and what will come to your mind is an image, a picture of a face, most likely a face on a television screen (in Einstein's case, a photograph of a face). Of words, almost nothing will come to mind. This is the difference between thinking in a word-centered culture and thinking in an image-centered culture." (60-61)
"What reading would have been done was done seriously, intensely, and with steadfast purpose. The modern idea of testing a reader's 'comprehension,' as distinct from something else a reader may be doing, would have seemed an absurdity in 1790 or 1830 or 1860. What else was reading but comprehending? As far as we know, there did not exist such a thing as a 'reading problem,' except, of course, for those who could not attend school. To attend school meant to learn to read, for without that capacity, one could not participate in the culture's conversations. But most people could read and did participate. To these people, reading was both their connection to and their model of the world. The printed page revealed the world, line by line, page by page, to be a serious, coherent place, capable of management by reason, and of improvement by logical and relevant criticism." (61-62)
"There could not have been a safer bet when it began in 1969 than that 'Sesame Street' would be embraced by children, parents and educators. Children loved it because they were raised on television commercials, which they intuitively knew were the most carefully crafted entertainments on television. To those who had not yet been to school, even to those who had just started, the idea of being taught by a series of commercials did not seem peculiar. And that television should entertain them was taken as a matter of course.
Parents embraced 'Sesame Street' for several reasons, among them that it assuaged their guilt over the fact that they could not or would not restrict their children's access to television. 'Sesame Street' appeared to justify allowing a four- or five-year-old to sit transfixed in front of a television screen for unnatural periods of time. Parents were eager to hope that television could teach their children something other than which breakfast cereal has the most crackle. At the same time, 'Sesame Street' relieved them of the responsibility of teaching their preschool children how to read--no small matter in a culture where children are apt to be considered a nuisance. They could also plainly see that in spite of its faults, 'Sesame Street' was entirely consonant with the prevailing spirit of America. Its use of cute puppets, celebrities, catchy tunes, and rapid-fire editing was certain to give pleasure to the children and would therefore serve as adequate preparation for their entry into a fun-loving culture." (142) Emphasis mine.
"'The Little House on the Prairie, 'Cheers' and 'The Tonight Show"'are as effective as 'Sesame Street' in promoting what might be called the television style of learning. And this style of learning is, by its nature, hostile to what has been called book learning or its handmaiden, school-learning. If we are to blame 'Sesame Street' for anything, it is for the pretense that it is any ally of the classroom. That, after all, has been its chief claim on foundation and public money. As a television show, and a good one, 'Sesame Street' does not encourage children to love school or anything about school. It encourages them to love television." (144)
Even more depressing than the declension of reading is the declension of oratory. If anybody remembers what famous people say any more, they usually recall one melodramatic line, such as "I have a dream" or "Ask not what your country can do for you..." or "...the evil empire..." Like they do with movies and television, they only remember these one-liners. No one remembers, for instance, Achilles furious speech before the walls of Troy vowing that Hector will pay in a glut for killing Patroclus. There are no good one-liners in that speech. You have to hear the whole thing to get the weight of how hungry Achilles is for vengeance. And people remember "To be or not to be," but how many people understand that the question is in the context of contemplation of suicide? It's really no surprise that modern people digest the Bible the same way--nothing in context, everything in soundbytes.
ReplyDeleteNo time to really comment, but I wanted to quickly say that I love the quotes! I really would like to read Postman's "Amusing" (putting it on my 2012 booklist) and his book on teaching (referenced in Ristad's "A Soprano on Her Head" - which is an fascinating mix of strange new-age ideas and scientific research on music and learning styles). However, in your quotes, Postman seems to be focused on "school" rather than *education*. Would you say that's true of his book in general?
ReplyDelete@Bobby, Postman contends that excellent oration and the literary society are inseparable. Instead of trying to summarize his words, I'll let him speak for himself:
ReplyDelete"I choose the Lincoln-Douglas debates as a starting point for this chapter not only because they were the preeminent example of political discourse in the mid-nineteenth century but also because they illustrate the power of typography to control the character of that discourse. Both the speakers and their audience were habituated to a kind of oratory that may be described as literary. For all of the hoopla and socializing surrounding the event, the speakers had little to offer, and audiences little to expect, but language. And the language that was offered was clearly modeled on the style of the written word. To anyone who has read what Lincoln and Douglas said, this is obvious from beginning to end. The debates opened, in fact, with Douglas making the following introduction, highly characteristic of everything that was said
afterward:
'Ladies and Gentlemen: I appear before you today for the purpose of discussing the leading political topics which now agitate the public mind. By an arrangement between Mr. Lincoln and myself, we are present here today for the purpose of having a joint discussion, as the representatives of the two great political parties of the State and Union, upon the principles in issue between those parties, and this vast concourse of people shows the deep feeling which pervades the public mind in regard to the questions dividing us.'
This language is pure print. That the occasion required it to be spoken aloud cannot obscure that fact. And that the audience was able to process it through the ear is remarkable only to people whose culture no longer resonates powerfully with the printed word. Not only did Lincoln and Douglas write all their speeches in advance, but they also planned their rebuttals in writing. Even the spontaneous interactions between the speakers were expressed in a sentence structure, sentence length and rhetorical organization which took their form from writing. To be sure, there were elements of pure orality in their presentations. After all,
neither speaker was indifferent to the moods of the audiences. Nonetheless, the resonance of typography was ever-present. Here was argument and counterargument, claim and counterclaim, criticism of relevant texts, the most careful scrutiny of the previously uttered sentences of one's opponent. In short, the Lincoln-Douglas debates may be described as expository prose lifted whole from the printed page." (Amusing Ourselves to Death, p.48-49)
Interesting, yes?
@Kiri, Good distinction. *Education* is distinct from the institution of *school*. And I believe Postman would have agreed that there is a distinction. However, he often speaks of the school as the place of learning, and he offers a short history of the creation of schools in reference to the populace needing to read.
ReplyDeleteHis main discussion is how a culture of images has changed public discourse - including, as he puts it, "teaching" or "schooling." And he also considers the idea that the schools may be the place to fix our problem...
Yet, in all, his book is worth reading.
I should add: Postman does devote entire chapter to how the Department of Education and schools have been influenced by television. Throughout, I found myself wondering about the implications for homeschooling - and how I would train my future children. :)
ReplyDelete@Laura.
ReplyDeleteYes, interesting! Thanks for sharing!
I agree with Postman wholeheartedly on that issue, though I profess to know nothing about the Lincoln-Douglas debates. After LOTR came out when I was in high school, I bought all the extended editions, and what fascinated me most about the documentaries was how intricately Tolkien planned his fictional languages, and how he expressed extant linguistic theory in the mouth of the Ents. The Ents are slow to act, and even slower to speak. They are so conservative that they will not bend their long-winded language to suit the circumstances of the time. If Ents spoke like we text on our phones today, they would have noticed the threat Saruman posed a lot earlier and would have decided what to do about it a lot quicker. Linguists in Tolkien's day still held onto the idea, made popular by the brothers Grimm, that language was slowly but surely declining with each generation. We see a picture of this in Orwell's 1984, where language is purposefully manipulated so that it is short and simplified, so that it does not produce much thought on the part of the citizens. Technology, because of the speed it lends communication, has the unfortunate tendency of shaping our language in the same way. In Tolkien's day, radio was the sum of all linguistic evils. The person who abbreviated his language could cram more into a radio show, or into an encrypted military message, and that gave him an edge over his competitors. Today, it is texting. Shorten your words, and you can talk to more people faster for cheaper. And if you offer resistance, if you insist on avoiding ending your sentences with a preposition, other people are confused or even amused at these antiquated ways of speaking. One can see, in Tolkien, what is really at the heart of the Ents' anti-technological stance toward Saruman's industrial works. It is not just Tolkien's love of the English countryside. It is his disdain for Orcs: their quick, sloppy way of doing things--their emphasis of speed and numbers--quantity--over quality.
ReplyDelete