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Rhetoric Society Quarterly

ISSN: 0277-3945 (Print) 1930-322x (Online) Journal homepage: http://www.tandfonline.com/loi/rrsq20

Pragmatism and the Methodology of Comparative


Rhetoric
Scott R. Stroud
To cite this article: Scott R. Stroud (2009) Pragmatism and the Methodology of Comparative
Rhetoric, Rhetoric Society Quarterly, 39:4, 353-379, DOI: 10.1080/02773940903196614
To link to this article: http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/02773940903196614

Published online: 13 Oct 2009.

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Date: 05 January 2017, At: 14:31

Rhetoric Society Quarterly


Vol. 39, No. 4, October 2009, pp. 353379

Pragmatism and the Methodology


of Comparative Rhetoric
Scott R. Stroud

As rhetorical scholars increasingly investigate traditions and texts from other cultures, new
challenges arise as to what method one ought to follow when practicing what is called comparative
rhetoric. In this article, I argue that pragmatism offers a framework for a methodology of
comparative rhetoric that allows for the plurality of purposes involved on all sides of the encounter
between a critic and a text. I will explore how pragmatism gives primacy to the plurality of
purposes in human communicative endeavors, as well as what this means for how one can practice
comparative rhetoric. I conclude by analyzing a case study in comparative rhetoric involving
experiential rhetorical tactics in classical Indian and European philosophical texts.

For a scholar introduced as the second Confucius while touring China after the
First World War, John Dewey would seem to be a promising place to start in
re-thinking the methodology of comparative rhetoric.1 Of course, the reality is a
bit underwhelmingDewey frequently contributed more to philosophical discourses in Japan, China, and so on than he took from them. Yet Deweys form
of pragmatism represents a remarkable combination of attributes that could lead
him and those who follow in his intellectual tradition to rethink some of the ways
that those in comparative rhetoric undertake intercultural studies of communicative practices, texts, and concerns. Deweys thought offers a curious mixture of
naturalism and idealistic creativity, respect for culture and openness to appropriation, that allows for current practices in how comparative rhetoric is practiced, as
well as for a meta-level account that allows for a plurality of purposes in how such
inquiry could be practiced.
Perhaps I am getting ahead of myself here. Why should one think that the predominant habits implicated in the subfield of comparative rhetoric need pragmatism as a reformulating agent? What I will argue in this article is that comparative

For a vivid account of Deweys adventures in China, see Wang.

Scott R. Stroud is an Assistant Professor in the Department of Communication Studies at the University of Texas
at Austin, One University Station A1105, Austin, TX 78712, USA. E-mail: sstroud@mail.utexas.edu
ISSN 0277-3945 (print)/ISSN 1930-322X (online) # 2009 The Rhetoric Society of America
DOI: 10.1080/02773940903196614

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Stroud

rhetoric too often proceeds in just the way that Dewey and those inspired by
Dewey (such as Richard Rorty) object tothe way of studying and arguing that
postulates a fact of the matter that analysis is to uncover, reflect, and get right.
Pragmatism represents a powerful way to re-envision how comparative rhetoric
could proceed given the plurality of purposes that animate human conduct
including that reflective conduct known as criticism or inquiry. My argument will
proceed in the following steps. First, I will argue that Deweys form of pragmatism
naturalizes criticism, and that this results in criticism being subservient to an
agents purposes in relation to some environment. This is important insofar as
it results in at least two purposes for scholarly criticismthe purpose of describing
some phenomenon, and the purpose of reconstructing some phenomenon. Comparative rhetoric and its practitioners err when the standards of one are used as
an a priori indictment of the other sort of practice. I will also show a constitutive
contribution pragmatism can providethat of the notion of habit or orientation.
Not only are the habits of scholarly inquiry important, but so are the orientations
that seem addressed by communicative texts. This study will conclude with a comparative analysis that demonstrates a reconstructive approach to comparative
rhetoric. Two thinkers removed in culture and time will be summoned as rich
resources from which to construct a putative answer to a question motivated by
current rhetorical theoryhow can texts challenge or change fundamental aspects
of an audiences orientation toward the world, self, and others?
Pragmatism, Criticism, and the Purpose(s) of Comparative Rhetoric
Comparative rhetoric is a relatively new endeavor, starting with Olivers important
work on the rhetoric of ancient India and China.2 While scholars are still working
in this sub-area of rhetorical theory and criticism,3 no one seems drawn to
employing one of the few contemporary examples of a uniquely American
approach to philosophy and criticismthat of pragmatism. Pragmatism, especially in the form espoused by Dewey, has something important to tell us about
the methodology and presuppositions of comparative rhetoric. What exactly does
it have to contribute? In this section, I will argue that it can contribute a radical,
albeit naturalized, notion of purpose to the methodology of criticism.
One of the most interesting features of Deweys thought is his continual merging of progress and organic wholes in all aspects of his thought. In terms of
experience, this is the interpenetration of organism and environmentone missteps, according to Dewey, when she or he starts from one extreme in isolation
from the other. It is no different, in his view, with texts and communicative

Oliver Rhetorical Implications, Rhetorical Tradition.


For contemporary work in comparative rhetoric, see Combs Challenging, The Dao; Garrett, Chinese
Rhetoric; Kennedy; Lu, Rhetoric.
3

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355

practices. We often simply understand and react to these in habitual ways; only
when they become problematic do we bring in non-present states of affairs and
concepts to fully understand them. This is the division between primary and secondary experience in Deweys Experience and Nature, and appreciation and understanding in his Art as Experience. The former sort of experience does not lack
mediation per se, as habits and meanings from past experience fund such an
encounter between organism and environment. What is particularly of interest
for Dewey are the times when humans encounter problematic situations and
thereby resort to higher-level cognition or mediation as an adaptive measure. This
is what Dewey calls (at various places) reflection, inquiry, or criticism.
What is important for this study is that built into this notion of reflective or
critical thought is purpose. Critical thought is said by Dewey to focus on value,
but one can easily see its parallels to problem solving in science. This, on Deweys
account, is reflective experience and is referred to by Johnston as inquiry. Both
involve stepping back from immediate action and reaction to a more reflective
level, bring in past and future states to gain a better understanding of problems
and solutions. Is this solution better because it corresponds more to reality? This
is a complex story, and one that cannot be dealt with exhaustively here, but I would
submit the Deweyan answer is no. Language and ideas, for a pragmatist like Dewey,
are ways to better adapt to an environment, and such adaptation can differ based
upon an organisms purposes (think here of the various ways to make functional
and potentially adorned shelters). As Louis Menand describes the classical pragmatists, They all believe that that ideas are not out there waiting to be discovered,
but are toolslike forks and knives and microchipsthat people devise to cope
with the world in which they find themselves (xi). The conscious, reflective use of
ideas and words in a communicative fashion are soaked through with this sort of
problem-confronting purpose. Indeed, Dewey responds to those philosophers
who say a chair is a certain patch of color in ones visual field in the same way. They
mistake a product of reflection for the object itself, and aim to shut out other
descriptions for alternative (perhaps conflicting) purposes. To the certitude of their
insistence that this description is the correct one, Dewey responds, The exercise
would be harmless, were it not forgotten that the conclusions reached have but a
dialectical status, being an elaboration of premises arrived at by technical analysis
from a specialized physiological point of view (Experience 368). Grounded in one
scientific purpose, such a description is true (viz., useful for understanding some
visual experiences and their propensities). From the point of view of an antique
salesperson, such an understanding of a chair is of limited value.
Criticism, for Dewey, is like reflection in that it serves only the goal of helping
one with the possibility of intelligent administration of the elements of doing and
suffering (Experience 29). In most cases of critical examination of communicative
texts and practices, there is not one such possibility evident. For instance, the
purpose of correctly describing an antecedent reality is not always there, and
gets exaggerated into Deweys quest for certainty in interpretation. As Rorty

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suggests, this relativizing to purpose means that questions of getting something


right become moot.4 When would one know if they got something right, or
in our case, found the meaning of a text? Instead, the pragmatist critic asks a question from a certain need or interest, and the answer she or he finds goes a certain
distance toward fulfilling this lack. If it does not, then the critical=interpretative
activity has not been useful. Many questions can be asked of a text, but none of
them should be privileged as foundationalincluding those of the meaning,
the ideology implied, and so forth.
Of course, many would say that this sort of approach is unrealistic, and that
practitioners of comparative rhetoric generally recognize this purpose-relativized
point. The proof of such a disposition, however, would have to be evident in our
replies to non-compatible arguments of others. Are they strongly labeled incorrect or wrong? Would Dewey not think this sort of absolutized response simply indicative of ones failure to recognize the plurality of purposes possible in
an act of interpretation? The dominant approach to comparative rhetoric, in
both early and recent work, involves theorists explicitly or implicitly concretizing
the purpose of comparative rhetoric to one goalthat of correctly describing some
practice or text. They answer the charges and claims of other comparative scholars by pointing out how that interpretation fails to get something right about
the text or phenomenon in question. Notice how this is similar to the commitment to get something right in reflective or critical thinking. Correctly mirroring the world is one purpose to which we can orient our activities, and some
pragmatists have argued that this is an illusory aimas Rorty argues in Philosophy and the Mirror of Nature, this approach assumes that a foundational account
of the world exists and can be consciously identified. Even classical pragmatists
such as Dewey fail to evince a commitment to there being one way of correctly
describing some tradition or text; instead, these descriptions are said to be
relative to some purpose, and the products can be better or worse in light of
satisfying that purpose.
Notice that the conception of criticism I elucidate allows for many different purposes. In some cases, our purposes draw us to reflect on a present situation or text,
and this specific purpose will influence what we bring into that present situation
and what questions we will attempt to ask of that text or situation. In some cases
we use our body to interpret or perform an event, and thus interpretation ranges
beyond professionalized critics in academic venues.5 One could interpret a text for
professional goals or self-creation, as some critics advise.6 Others may interpret for
self-edificationasking the question, what could this text be arguing or saying to
me (Stroud How to)? One could even criticize or interpret communication

These arguments are made in Rorty, Putnam and Universality.


For examples of this sort of approach, see Shusterman, Performing Live, Pragmatist Aesthetics.
6
Fish, Is There; Doing; Rorty, Consequences; Philosophy.
5

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357

events for humorous value, not worrying about any notion of literal truth value.
All of these would be adaptive if they fulfill some sort of felt need or exigency of
those involved in that situation. This is the fundamental lesson of Deweys
naturalization of criticism.
While a variety of purposes could animate criticism, I will focus on two general
purposes that Deweyan pragmatism brings into focus. A clear way of labeling these
two purposes comes from a modern proponent of Deweyan pragmatism, Richard
Shusterman. In an essay discussing the different emphases among contemporary
pragmatists, Shusterman identifies two strainsdescriptive pragmatism and
reconstructive-narrative=genealogical-poetic pragmatism (Surface 191). I will call
these descriptive and reconstructive approaches to critical=reflective endeavors.
The former engages some practice or aspect of experience with the purpose being
to describe it in the act of criticism or interpretation; the other seeks to change or
reconstruct some practice or aspect of experience with the act of criticism. Notice
that these can be complementary in some cases, and opposed in other cases. One
could be literally false in an analysis, and still provide a useful answer to some
problem through the reconstruction of received texts or practices.
A similar division appeared in a dispute over how to characterize sophistic
rhetoric in ancient Greece, so it may be illustrative to summarize that skirmish
here. Schiappa (Neo-sophistic) objected to such accounts as Poulakos
(Toward) on the sophists, arguing that they often interject concepts and concerns not actually present in the sophistic lifeworld. Instead, Schiappa argues that
such accounts of the sophists are rational reconstructions in Rortys view (The
Historiography), and are opposed to what Rorty calls historical reconstructions.
The latter activity, according to Schiappa, is a different activity and is animated
by differing goalsspecifically, the attempt to recapture the past insofar as possible on its own terms and often use the methods of the historian and, in classical work, the philologist (194). Poulakos and Consigny have replied to such a
categorization by portraying historical facts as constituted by the act of interpretation and by painting Schiappa as a foundationalist. Schiappa has aptly argued in
his defense, so I will not continue that debate.7 What I want to note is his reliance
on a pragmatist account of interpretation in such sources as Rorty (let alone
Dewey) that was not fully or explicitly developed. Both sides in this debate are
right to a certain extentpurposes always condition interpretation, but there does
seem to be a relevant difference in the purposes behind historical work and reconstructive endeavors. Yet due to the trajectory of that debate over interpreting the
sophists, the pragmatist approach to reconciling such positions was not explicated
fully. What this current study hopes to achieve is the use of pragmatism to show
how historical or reconstructive accounts are not mutually opposed endeavorsin

7
See Poulakos, Interpreting and Consigny, Scott Consigny, Edward Schiappas Reading. For the
relevant replies, see Schiappa, History, Scott Consigny, Some of my Best Friends.

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some cases they could become Leibnitzian compossibles (excluding the other
option once one option has been chosen in a given activity), but they are not
inherently ranked in terms of value, primacy, or importance. In some cases, attention to facts and linguistic practices is important in itself (viz., in historical
work), or in terms of being preparatory to constructive analyses. In other cases,
historical description would not be needed or desired for certain reconstructive
endeavorsstrongly reading against the textual grain with certain purposes in
mind, for instance. In such cases, anachronistic readings would be useful, but still
fly in the face of historical concerns and methods.
Part of the critique of current habits in philosophy by Dewey (and later pragmatists such as Rorty and Shusterman) is that much of philosophy fixates on
the first purpose (viz., description), with consequent impact on methods of
inquiry and argument. Surely comparative rhetoric, with its general contact with
postmodern strains in rhetorical studies, would find itself resistant to such an
exclusive interest in correctly describing rhetorical traditions from various world
cultures. I believe that comparative rhetoric, as practiced, is usually oriented
toward the first goal (that of desiring a correct description of some phenomenon,
text, or tradition). Note that this is not harmful per se, but it is limiting; there are
other purposes that could guide legitimate and useful inquiries in comparative
rhetoric. This exclusive interest in descriptive veracity is clearly evidenced in the
early research in comparative rhetoric. For instance, Olivers pioneering work sets
out to identify the rhetorical theories and practices of ancient India and China
and to discern and describe the rhetorics implicit in these two Eastern cultures
(Communication ix). Others attempt to describe what makes non-Western rhetorics different from Western rhetorical practices (Jolliffe; Matalene). What is interesting is not that their purpose is descriptivethis much is obvious and acceptable
until it is rendered foundational or exclusive of other approaches. It is the methodological assumption that this is the way comparative rhetoric ought to proceed
that is worrisome.
Contemporary critics have attacked such pieces in comparative rhetoric. I
believe that in most cases, one will find the criticisms of earlier work in comparative rhetoric to be similarly based on the assumption that the goal of such work is
correct and accurate description of such traditions, texts, and practices. For
instance, Lu (Studies) does an admirable job in categorizing the variety of
approaches or methods utilized in comparative rhetoric; interestingly enough,
four out of the five stages of comparative rhetorical trends that are identified
are criticized on grounds impugning their descriptive veracity. Thus, approaches
that note a deficiency in Eastern rhetorics (e.g., the claim that Chinese rhetoric
lacks a notion of deductive argument) are said to be misled by a Eurocentric
orientation that favors and privileges logical thinking in Western cultures
(113). Thus, these approaches are inaccurate because they are guided by invalid
purposes they do not recognize. Lu also criticizes the developmental approach
of Kennedy, insofar as he tries to discover a universal rhetoric across cultures

Pragmatism and Comparative Rhetoric

359

by starting with Western rhetorical concepts as his points of comparison (Lu 113).
Lu also draws attention to the criticisms of Liu, who points out that many Western
rhetorical scholars err in their comparative endeavors either because they have
limited access to primary texts or dependence on translated texts, or because their
generalizations fail to match their evidence. Lius criticisms, while important from
one perspective, do reveal a descriptive biasscholarship fails when it does not
encompass enough data, or when it relies on the wrong sort of data (taking Confuciuss Analects to be representative of all ancient Chinese culture, say). Lu does
not stray far from such a methodological approach, arguing that she is qualified in
the right manner for her projectmy bilingual background enables me to translate and verify meanings embedded in ancient Chinese texts into the English language, while my bicultural experience makes me more aware of cultural and
textual nuances in the subject matter before me (Rhetoric 11). The same underlying assumption is present in such a statement, namely that there is something
buried in the texts and traditions of ancient China waiting to be discovered
and accurately described by the comparative rhetorician. The advised method?
One ought to use linguistic and cultural tools to dig up this foundational
meaning that lies hidden in the text. While I do not disagree that translations
and cultural contexts matter, I do take issue with what remains unspoken here
the methodological presupposition that comparative rhetoric is a purely and
exclusively descriptive endeavor.
Even explicitly comparative approaches to multiple rhetorical traditions run
into this presupposition. Lu discusses work in rhetoric that aims at appropriating
material from non-Western traditions to supplement Western rhetorical theories
(e.g., Garrett Pathos Reconsidered; Wit, Power), but she applauds them based
on the same presupposition of accurately capturing some tradition in Chinese
rhetoric. Mao also criticizes a variety of approaches to comparative or contrastive
rhetoric, often relying on accusations of bias in the approaches of critics. For
instance, Mao criticizes some studies as having a methodological bias that focuses
on what is absent, rather than on what is present, in non-Western rhetorical traditions (409), a problem he traces to Saids notion of Orientalism in patterns of
critical thought. At another point, Mao sums up his notion of comparative rhetoric, arguing that
Part of the motivating or justifying force behind comparative rhetoric is to
achieve better understanding of Western rhetorical tradition by learning more
about non-Western rhetorical traditionsso that Western rhetorical tradition
can be re-examined, refined, and enriched through those other traditions. (413)

One cannot fail to see the presupposition that is doing the majority of the work
herethat the purpose of comparative work is the correct and accurate description of given traditions of rhetoric. The method of comparison is thereby guided
by this presupposition, leading Mao to criticize approaches that evince some
sort of bias or distorting influence and to advocate his own emic=etic approach.

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This hybrid approach combines culturally sensitive and contextualized study of an


indigenous rhetorical tradition (the emic aspect) with the application of frames
and terms found in our own traditions to non-Western rhetorics (the etic aspect)
(417). While this is a hermeneutically sophisticated and valuable method, my
point remains the samecertain methodological choices are delegitimized by
assuming that the purpose of comparative rhetoric is accurate description. For
the pragmatist, these are not inherently linked endeavorsdescription in the
historical sense and reconstruction in the appropriative sense can be pursued
separately, as they involve methods guided by differing purposes. These purposes
affect the results of such analyses, as well as the criterion by which one evaluates
those results. These could be comprehensiveness in accounting for facts of culture, historical practice, and so on, or they could revolve around heuristic value for
some other specific endeavor (entertainment, self-knowledge, the creation of new
possibilities, etc.). The latter case could still be successful criticism, in spite of not
accounting for practices on their own terms. In some cases, accurate description
precedes constructive analysis, but this is not a hard-and-fast fact about interpretation. In other cases such a requirement would be arbitrary and limiting in terms of
the results one seeks.
The pragmatist approach to criticism and interpretation that I extract from
Dewey allows us to see another general purpose that can be emphasized in comparative rhetoric, the purpose of reconstruction or melioration. The point of criticizing under such a frame would be to fix or change some aspect of the world
(including us), not merely to accurately describe it. In some cases, inaccurate or
incomplete description may be the method called for to instigate such changes.
This has parallels in the Buddhist rhetorical tradition with the practice of upaya,
or expedient=skillful means (Faure). What I want to emphasize in my methodological comments here is that there are (at least) two important purposes that
can be fulfilled by comparative rhetoric, and ones comparative method will
change accordingly. If ones desire is to describe some contemporary or ancient
communicative practice, then ones methodology will be descriptive or historical.
If one desires to reconstruct her or his notion of rhetoric, or to find a new way
to address some theoretical or practical problem in rhetoric, she or he can use a
constructive or reconstructive approach to comparative rhetoric. The historical
approach would emphasize the context of the original text, linguistic concerns
in translation of that text into other languages, and intellectual concerns likely
held by the original author of the text from that time period. Thus, in such
an approach to Confucian rhetoric, one would be wary of generalizations based
on only one text, based on one (or any) translation of a given text, or on concepts that are most likely absent from the mind of the original authors (say,
Confucius or Xunzi). The second approach would accept some slack in historical
accuracy, and instead strive for usefulness of appropriation or reconstruction in
light of some pressing problem in rhetorical theory or practice (say, in the putative contradiction between individual autonomy and need for community).

Pragmatism and Comparative Rhetoric

361

This second approach is recognized as one (but not the only) way to pursue
comparative endeavors in philosophy. For instance, Panikkar discusses the notion
of imparative philosophy, which starts from the hermeneutically sanctioned
ground that one cannot compare traditions from a vantage outside of her or
his own tradition; thus, the individual doing such philosophical investigation aims
to form and reform her or his view of the world, ethics, and so on in light of what
seems better in the other tradition being confronted. No pretense is made here to a
method of accurately describing the phenomena of another culture; appropriation
occurs, but it (ideally) is an open, respectful, and constructive process. Panikkar
compares philosophical worldviews to myths, and claims that Comparative
philosophy does not demythologize; it transmythicizes. It transforms our myth
the moment we discover it as such. It saves us from falling into the fallacy of
believing that all the others live in myths except us (134). We can reform our
philosophical view of the world and ourselves primarily because the constructive
confrontation with another culture and its ways of thinking changes our own
horizon (134). A similar appropriative method is advocated by Allinson when
he argues for an integrative approach which tends to demonstrate the value of
borrowing both content and methodology of the other tradition in order to
enhance the development of a world tradition (273). In other words, one examines the rhetorical or philosophical tradition of another culture, not to get it
right, but to find some useful ways to think through or around the pathways
ones own tradition offers. A similar approach is taken to intercultural philosophy
by Mall.
There are dangers to appropriative methods, of course; one could see Allinsons
approach to forming a global tradition as a veil for an intellectual strip-mining
of the treasures of other traditions. This is why I emphasize respect, dialogue, and
openness in such a constructive methodology. One can always be led astray by
habitual blind spots in her or his patterns of thought; the pragmatist simply insists
that such an approach be corrected on the basis of use, not on some appeal to the
way some tradition really is. If ones purpose is to solve a certain problem, then I
do not see how accuracy becomes a trumping concern. Too much inaccuracy concerning the object of interpretation, however, and you risk making the subject
matter studied irrelevant. Why start interpreting the Analects if nothing in ones
analysis really attaches to that text and any of its details in the first place? Thus,
a pragmatist approach to comparative rhetoric would highlight the legitimacy
of the historical (descriptive) and reconstructive (constructive) approaches to such
endeavors, all the while situating both approaches between the extremes that assert
there is one historical truth about the meaning of the Analects, say, and the alternative extreme that the Analects can mean anything we want. There is a reason we
investigate and respect the Analects; thus, there is a limit to the constructivism
advocated here.
While other pragmatists are more radical constructivists, the Deweyan
approach advocated here would recommend a more conditional, fallible sense

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of constructing meaning. For instance, Shusterman captures this balance that


Dewey tries to strike concerning interpretation:
The project is not to describe the works given and definitive sense, but rather to
make sense of the work. Though our sense-making activity is not enslaved to
mirroring or capturing a fixed antecedent meaning, it is neither totally free
nor condemned to arbitrary, deviant misreading. (Pragmatist 92)

Thus, comparative rhetoric, if it is to be informed by a pragmatist approach to


criticism and interpretation, will allow for differing approaches to comparing
and investigating Western and non-Western traditions. In some cases, claims of
accuracy matter; in others, some tolerance for a constructive misreading or a thin
reading is allowed (contra hypothetical intentionalists such as Levinson). At this
point, two objections can be levied against this pragmatist account of method in
comparative rhetoric. First, one could wonder why pragmatism is needed in the
first place when a rhetorical take on interpretation also acknowledges the influence of purpose on the critic. One could respond simply that pragmatism gives a
clear and delineated metatheoretic view of the impact of purpose on interpretative
activity that rhetoric as a diffuse discipline could benefit from. These concerns
and resources are not totally absent from other areas of rhetoric (say, in the various European philosophical sources that are often appropriated by rhetorical
scholars), but none give the same sort of self-contained reading of purpose, use,
and reflective engagement with cultural objects that Deweyan pragmatism provides. For instance, critical rhetoric (e.g., McKerrow) is an important extension
of Foucaldian (and other) themes into rhetorical studies, but it falls into a common trap of essentializing criticism as an elite, professionalized activity (Charland;
Shusterman, Pragmatist). One ought not to prima facie exclude pursuing the pragmatist track simply because recent disciplinary habits already have an engrained
force on how rhetorical research should progress. Second, pragmatism offers the
unique benefit, due to its long and storied engagement with psychology and social
psychology, of uniting readings of habit and psychological functioning with rhetorical and critical concerns (see Danisch; Westbrook). The resulting product, in
terms of both method and constitutive theories about discourse, will be radically
different from accounts derived from psychoanalysis, Marxism, and so on. For
instance, this present study will use these notions to extend comparative rhetoric
in terms of method (via an analysis of purpose) and content (the following sections focus on habits and orientation). Further work could fully exploit this compatibility between pragmatist criticism and psychology.
The third, and I believe decisive, response to such an objection is simpleit is
not at all obvious that such a pluralism of method and purpose is recognized in
and by the way comparative rhetoric has been undertaken. My previous analysis
has, I hope, justified the usefulness of a pragmatist revisioning of what one could
be doing when she or he engages in acts of cross-cultural criticismmany position
their analyses and criticisms in the same way foundationalist philosophers have,

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and such a positioning is what Dewey, Rorty, and other pragmatists have found
limiting. Pragmatism even has methodological implications for rhetorical studies
in general. The pragmatist account provided in this study simply offers one way of
unstiffening such assumed ways of pursuing comparative rhetoric.
A second objection that could be leveled at this account is that it is blatantly
appropriative (especially in its advocacy of constructive approaches), and that
appropriation in intercultural interactions is harmful or immoral. This is the concern foregrounded in such writers as Keeshing-Tobias and Coombethat appropriation of the resources of another culture amounts to stealing or to the inflicting
of a substantive harm on that cultures identity. Ziff and Rao summarize these
objections to appropriation as follows: it leads to cultural degradation through
harming the appropriated community and=or the object appropriated, it leads
to aesthetic degradation through misplacing the natural stewardship of the cultural
object appropriated, and it leads to material deprivation of the cultural stolen from
in terms of lost revenues and financial resources (24). Thus, one could object to
constructive approaches to comparative rhetoric since they would encourage such
harms, both to the culture being studied (e.g., Indian culture) and the object being
analyzed (e.g., the Bhagavad Gita). The objection could assume that only historical
approaches to the study of other cultures meet the standards of respect and avoidance of harm, or that only members of that culture could engage in such analysis in
the first place (since they are the owners of such cultural resources). Either way,
this is a serious charge and one that has resonances in many of the debates in
comparative rhetoric.
A complete answer to the acceptability of appropriation would be a separate
study in itself. I believe, however, that one could easily detect the general problems
in concretizing and freezing culture and cultural resources as is sometimes
assumed in critiques of appropriation, and the harms such moves would lead to
in an increasingly interconnected and hybridized world. Like the critics of appropriation, I am concerned about the harm and lack of respect that often accompanies appropriation across cultures, but pragmatism as a guide to comparative
rhetoric offers an excellent way to combat such harms. I will review four reasons
why this is the case. First, pragmatisms rejections of foundational accounts will
exclude exclusivist claims to not only cultural ownership but also to those
accounts that justify appropriational harm because of the putatively superior value
of one culture. This was often the case in colonial appropriation, and pragmatism would reject any absolute right to any part of cultural capital. Second, pragmatism strives to be conscious and transparent about purpose. If one is
appropriating a concept from another tradition, one is at least called upon to
be explicit about this, and not to act under any pretenses that ones action is
the way that such intercultural interaction should always proceed.
This clarity in purpose is foregrounded in pragmatic accounts of interpretation,
and it is what leads to the third reason why I believe pragmatism can resist such an
objection to appropriation per seas a meta-view of comparative rhetoric,

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pragmatism would give one the needed framework to discuss, analyze, and decide
on the acceptability of certain purposes and methods involved in comparative
endeavors. If there is no foundational, certain, or a priori reason against all intercultural engagement (and I do not see any such absolute reasons), then we (all
involved cultures) must create or determine what activities are desirable and
why they should be encouraged or discouraged. Pragmatism recognizes the
socially contingent nature of reasoning and morality, and would thereby encourage explicit deliberation over the sorts of desires=purposes we possess and which
of those we ought to actualize through our behaviors. The pragmatist approach to
comparative rhetoric would allow us to sort out certain ways of appropriating that
are harmful and non-desired through open discussion; this state of affairs is unlikely to come about if all appropriation is assumed to be wrong, or if all comparative work is assumed to be of a non-appropriative (viz., descriptive) nature in the
first place. As in pragmatist accounts of ethics (e.g., Fesmire 2003), the key to
pragmatist ways of determining allowable from non-allowable appropriation will
not come in the discovery of absolute principles; it will arise from the uncertain,
continuous, and particularized process of social reflection and experience.
A fourth response to this objection is that appropriation can be a way of taking
another culture seriously. A typical response is to denigrate the practices of a certain culture and to then try to disabuse it of uncivilized elements. Pragmatist
appropriation would seek neither missionary amelioration nor the greedy
strip-mining of cultural resources, but a serious and educative engagement of
one culture with the traditions of another. Such an engagement is not limited
to merely objectifying the other culture as a dead object of study, nor is it limited
to ignoring the other cultures relevance to ones culture. Instead, the comparative
researcher studies the rhetorical practices and theories of another culture with
openness to that culture having something to contribute to the researchers culture. The lines of respect and harm must be determined through communicative
practices, but such processes will only be encouraged by the habit of seriously taking other cultures as equals to ones culture, as well as taking the thinkers and traditions in those cultures as partners in your ongoing quest to succeed at various
projects. Thus, the methods elucidated by pragmatism as a way of theorizing
comparative rhetoric can be an ally in the struggle against harmful forms of
appropriative intercultural contact.
Pragmatism, Comparative Rhetoric, and Orientational Persuasion
Beyond the issues of method, an additional insight pragmatism can provide for
comparative rhetoric concerns what I call orientations (Pragmatism). Pragmatism not only highlights the orientation or habits of the comparative rhetorician, it also highlights the habits of those addressed by cultural texts (including
ancient and contemporary audiences) as potential units of analysis. In its most
general characterization, an orientation is a wide-ranging mental habit that

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governs how we think about self, others, and the world. Another way to describe
this concept is that it is a mental habit that concerns (1) what we think is in the
world, and (2) what is of value in the world; these two factors merge and create (3)
certain action strategies that seem available or advisable to us. Thus, one who is a
radical egoist has a certain habitual (and not always conscious) way of cutting up
the world and directing action in it (say, always privileging and looking out for his
own good). This is a wide notion of habit, but this is a vital insight in Deweys
reading of ethics, education, and moral development in such works as Human
Nature and Conduct. All habits, whether they concern a merely physical pattern
of reaction (smoking or nail biting) or more complex mental patterns of action
(strategies of problem solving or critical thinking), are formed in and through past
experiences, and consequently mediate ones immediate future experiences.
This mediation comes in the form of enabling certain actions or, more importantly, focusing how we think and react to an object. For instance, take the case
of art objects. Dewey argues that because these are connected to fairly coherent,
thoughtful practices in most civilizations, one can expect to find cultural habits
of thought objectified in those objects: They affect a broadening and deepening
of our own experience, rendering it less local and provincial as far as we grasp, by
their means, the attitudes basic in other forms of experience (Art 335). Such cultural products as art objects are created because of some meaning they are to be
imbued with, and they can be studied or experienced by sympathetic outsiders
for insight into that culture and what issues it takes as important. A similar reading of what I am calling orientation appears in Geertzs notions of ethos and
worldview in religious and ritual contexts. Orientation plays a key role in directing the types of experience individuals have, and like any habit, continued instantiation in action tends to reinforce its projective power. Orientation can serve as
the unit of analysis for rhetorical change qua persuasiona text or an art object
can aim to change a habitual, general, and subconscious approach an agent takes
to the self, the world, and what is of value in the world.
This is where comparative rhetoric and its methodology can benefit from pragmatisms emphasis on wide-ranging mental habits that orient individuals to
action. Taking a constructive approach, a critic can ask, What changes or modification in orientation could a given text be trying to effect? How does the implicit
or explicit rhetorical tradition in a given culture seem to try to change the orientations of those within or outside of the culture? In other words, the comparative
rhetorician could investigate different cultural traditions with the purpose of
reconstructing constitutive ends that discourse would try to effect, and the rhetorical means by which such ends are thought to be attained. This could thereby be
used to correct and supplement a critics own tradition and its conception of the
ends and means of communicative activity. This is not the only possible constructive endeavor in comparative rhetoric, nor does it preclude more historically
oriented investigations that can be made in regard to non-Western rhetorical
traditions. But something interesting can come of engaging a variety of cultures

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in such a fashion, because this concern of persuasion or encouraging self-change is


endemic to most, if not all, cultures.
A Constructive Analysis of Sankara and Descartes
The constructive approach may still be unclear, so it will be useful to examine a
brief example of how such an endeavor in comparative rhetoric might start to play
out. Let us assume we have an interest in figuring out how to turn people toward
the lighta common goal in most forms of moral cultivation. This seems to be
an endeavor in most world traditions, even strains that see humans as already
good (e.g., Ivanhoe). It seems obvious that humans are perennially interested in
how to shape humans in general, and the locus of such change in most cases lies
in a dispositional aspect.
Starting with this interest, I will examine the case of how extreme points have
been made, successfully or not, in two world traditions. This concerns rhetoric,
of course, because such ends of cultivation are usually only known through discursive objects, and because the means are often textual. This is constructive because
it is motivated by my contingent, reconstructive purposeto solve a current problem in parts of Western rhetorical and philosophical theory concerning moral
cultivation. The problem is simpleif humans tend to accept or reject argumentative appeals based on their past experience, how does one ever succeed in discursively causing a sea-change in attitude? In other words, how can one rhetorically
affect the orientation of a communicative partner toward self, world, or activity?
This worry emerges with a vengeance in the narrative paradigm of human communication proposed by Fisher. Fishers conceptions of narrative fidelity and
probability are said to describe the ways in which narratives are judged by auditors
as offering good reasons for action and=or belief. The problem arises, however, in
his conception of narrative fidelity, which states that people judge stories based on
whether or not the stories they experience ring true with the stories they know to
be true in their lives (Fisher 64). Elsewhere in his work, Fisher claims that good
reasons have the characteristic of being consistent with what we believe is an
ideal basis for conduct (194). Kirkwood enunciates the obvious concern in regard
to such an accountit implies that good stories cannot and perhaps should not
exceed peoples values and beliefs, whether or not these are admirable or accurate
(30). In the terms of pragmatism, it seems that Kirkwood is pointing to a disjunction between theories of message acceptance and the possibility of radical
re-orientation through rhetorical means.
This problem has been addressed in a variety of ways (Kirkwood; Stroud
Multivalent), but here I want to examine two examples in Western and Eastern traditions that appear to use a mundane experience in an attempt to create a
massive reorientation toward the world and ones self. These will be the use of
the common experiences of sleep and dreaming in Rene Descartes (15961650
CE) and Sankara (b. 788 CE). Both of these thinkers use an everyday situation

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that their audience has experienced to make a radical point. In the case of
Descartes, the dream argument in Meditations I is said to undercut our certainty of our fundamental beliefs. In the case of the classical Indian philosopher,
Sankara, the example of types of sleep=waking states is employed to push the
radical monistic point that the world we seem to inhabit is ultimately an illusion
(more precisely, that all individuation is an illusion). I will argue that the first
example (that of Descartes) is ultimately unsuccessful because it does not rely
primarily on the auditors experience in the same rich way Sankaras argumentative strategy seems tothe latter is pointing to a readers experience to convince her that the world she takes to be individuated ought to be taken as an
illusion, whereas Descartes merely uses the experience of dreaming as one way
to create a doubt that is quickly answered with his cogito argument. Both use
experience in their arguments; one can be said (for my purposes here) to use
it well in his argument. This comparison will show one way to address the problems with Fisher and moral cultivation in general.
More can be said about the context, intentions, and overall strategies taken by
each of these thinkers from a historical or descriptive approach in comparative
rhetoric; I am here interested in illustrating a reconstructive approach that elucidates the reasons why Sankaras argument seems much more interesting and
effective in pushing a radically new point on its audience (both ancient and
modern). Speaking about the rhetorical force of texts, Leff and Sachs argue that
Rhetorical meaning, of course, is not autotelic; it is designed to reach out and
to guide the audiences understanding of and behavior within that world . . . the
critical process seeks to explain how the rhetorical performance invites certain
kinds of response (256). I have explored a similar point using reader-response
theory and accounts of narrative argument (Narrative). Texts create a certain
sort of experience for an attending reader, and the critics job can be seen as
attempting to characterize this experience and its possible effects. In regard to
the present study, I believe that both Descartes and Sankara are using a common
experience (sleep=dream experience) to create a certain experience in the reader
in front of the text. Because these utilized examples have such a wide instantiation, and because most individuals can be taken to subscribe to some sort of
naive realism, my account will largely focus on the phenomenology of Sankaras
and Descartess argumentswhat an audience seems likely to experience, given
those commitments to realism and individuation, and baseline experiences of
sleeping and dreaming. What sort of experience is being created by these texts
in such (widespread) audiences, and for what purposes? What is being constructed in my comparative analysis is an answer to a worry stemming from
my notion of orientation and the conundrum of radical moral change. Other
purposes could result in different analyses of these two thinkers. One may even
resist comparing them, arguing that their cultural milieus are too different for
any common ground of comparison. All this, for the pragmatist, is subordinate
to the central charge of a plurality of purposesbe honest about why you are

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reflecting on something in a certain way, and see if such an endeavor yields


results that are useful for that purpose. Correctness of interpretation has too
many problematic assumptions, and even a less-than-accurate interpretation of
these two different figures could have its value. The Deweyan pragmatist (being
an experimentalist), would simply want to see the interpretation and how it
addresses the exigency that motivated it in the first place.
To explore how experience, orientation, and rhetoric could fit into a scheme of
moral cultivation and change, we start with one of Descartess arguments. As is
well known, Descartes begins this Meditations on First Philosophy with a radical
goalto question all of his knowledge, and to find out what is certain. His rhetorical strategy is to find general reasons that cast many (if not all) commonly held
beliefs into doubt, and then to rebuild his beliefs upon a certain foundation. He
claims that he need not individually rebuild all of his beliefs, but that great things
are to be hoped for if I succeed in finding just one thing, however slight, that is
certain and unshaken (17). As Dicker notes, this text has a rhetorical purpose
behind its argumentative choicesin his Meditations Descartes means to be
speaking not only for himself but for anyone who is seeking to determine the certainty of his or her beliefs (16). This explains why Descartes strives to use examples and cases of doubting that would be understandable to his audience. Take his
dream argument. While he clearly states that this is relevant to himself, a man
who is accustomed to sleeping at night, and to experiencing in my dreams the very
same things, or now and then even less plausible ones, as these insane people when
they are awake (14), it also clearly applies to his audience (past or present) who
can be taken to also have experienced dreams and sleep. Using the example of
dreaming to undercut the supposed certainty of sense experience makes sense
if he wants his audience to draw on their own experience in creating such doubts.
The point of the first meditation is to create this life-changing doubt in his audience, or at least the possibility that all they have taken to be certain is not so.
Indeed, Descartes even admits this much in response to his objectorsAnd I
should like my readers not just to take the short time needed to go through it
[viz., the doubts raised in Meditations I], but to devote several months, or at least
weeks, to considering the topics dealt with, before going on to the rest of the
book (The Philosophical 94). Descartes appears to be drawing on the contrast
between waking and dream states to make the simple, but powerful, point that like
our dreams, our everyday life could be radically mistaken.
Descartess appeal to everyday experience would seem to be an effective rhetorical tactic, but he undercuts this in an important way. First, in Descartess replies
to Hobbess objections to the Meditations, Descartes evinces an ontological separation between waking and sleep statesFor everyone admits that a man may be
deceived in his sleep. But afterwards, when he wakes up, he will easily recognize
his mistake (The Philosophical 137). Descartes still seems to acknowledge some
difference between these states, but why? In another response to Pierre Bourdin,
he claims he enunciated the doubts in Meditations I as the kind of extreme doubt

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which, as I frequently stressed, is metaphysical and exaggerated and in no way to


be transferred to practical life (308). Notice how this undercuts the power of his
dream argument, as individuals addressed (his audience) are meant to take this as
an exercise in metaphysics. What is exposed here in the Western tradition is the
same sort of description=reconstruction dichotomy pragmatism makes so much
of centuries later. Descartes saw the task of his meditations as integrally connected
to a theoretical enterprise to describe the world and to correctly catalogue items of
knowledge (viz., beliefs). This would be opposed to endeavors that yielded a practical impact on everyday, lived experience. His rhetorical tactics are thereby
adjusted to this descriptive goalthe dream argument is placed in the first person,
but he quickly moves on to more outlandish sources of doubt about beliefs about
the world. Even dreams do not get him all that he wants, so he moves on to the
next source of doubt (God as deceiver). What power his everyday example had is
quickly buried by his move into more theoretical concerns, let alone his cogito bedrock that he uncovers in Meditations II. One is left with the distinct sense that
Descartes has undergone an exercise in self doubt in his text, but one that fails
to lead its readers through a radical reorientation toward the world.
What I would argue is missing from Descartess use of the sleep example is a
more fully practical, experiential connection to the lives of his readers. This example is closely connected with their practical activities, and thus could be a great
resource in significantly changing their orientations toward such activities. Perhaps
some will claim that Descartes does encourage a healthy, albeit theoretical, skepticism among his readers. What I am pointing out, though, is that he fails to take
advantage of the experiential power of such examples and analogies, even when
used for purely theoretical ends. It is at this point that a constructive engagement
with another traditions use of auditor experience can be enlightening in
determining the possible uses of experience in moral cultivation.
The classical Indian philosopher, Sankara (b. 788 CE), does seem to exploit the
efficacy of a similar tactic in what can be called orientational persuasion. I will
return to this point, but for now we must reconstruct what he was trying to
accomplish with his rhetorical use of sleep experiences. I undertake this endeavor
with explicit reference to the project of moral cultivationhow can one use rhetorical means to cultivate, enlighten, or improve individuals and their orientation to
the world? I will consequently read Sankaras rhetorical practices in light of this
project. Of course, other exigencies will drive others to use the resources in
Sankaras texts in a different fashion.
Part of the challenge Sankara faced was in convincing his various audiences
religious pupils, popular audiences, political leaders, rival gurus, and even contemporary audiencesthat his unique take on the world and enlightenment
was correct. A vital part of his Advaita Vedanta was the re-orientation of those
who attended to his teachings. What sort of orientation did he wish to inculcate
in those who were persuaded by his message? It is one that would appear to be a
difficult sell to past or present audiences, because they equally share common

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commitments about the nature of the real world (viz., a nave, individuated
realism). Simply put, his form of Advaita Vedanta was committed to the following
claims: (1) that which is truly or ultimately real is Brahman, (2) the self of the individual (Atman) is really the Self of all beings (in other words, it is Brahman), (3)
all seeming instances of individuation and change is illusory, and (4) realizing the
truth about ones self qua Brahman is effective in countering the illusions created
by ignorance (avidya) of the real. This failure to realize that all is Brahman,
including ones self (Atman), is the real target in Sankaras teachings, and one
that seems rooted in the orientation of those individuals in question. In his
Upadesahasr (translated in Mayeda), he makes this point in the first chapter:
Karmans [as the results of actions, good or bad, in the past existence] produce
association with a body. When there is association with a body, pleasant and
unpleasant things are inevitable. From these result passion and aversion [and]
from them actions. . . . [From actions] merit and demerit result [and] from
merit and demerit there results an ignorant mans association with a body in
the same manner again. Thus this transmigratory existence rolls onward
powerfully forever like a wheel. (I.1.34)

Illusions about the nature of reality are the cause of all of our suffering and
troubleswhether it is in this life or the next. The seemingly simple solution is
to change how one sees the realto change to an orientation toward the self
and world that foregrounds non-individuation.
This is a challenging goal, and normal strategies of argument may not gain
enough purchase to convince individuals to see the world as non-individuated. Seeing the world as a collection of individuated objects is a deep-seated mental habit
most audience members (in ancient India, Descartess Europe, and modern times)
possess. Knowing that one qua individuated self is not the real agent, nor is really
the recipient of objects of desire is the key to liberation in life. This is the knowledge
that is the vital goal of Sankaras system of thought, since Only knowledge [of
Brahman] can destroy ignorance; action cannot [destroy it] since [action] is not
incompatible [with ignorance]. Unless ignorance is destroyed, passion and aversion
will not be destroyed (I.1.6). The rhetorical challenge such an orientational change
foists upon Sankara is simplehow does one argue that all individuation is illusory
and that ones Atman is the Self of all (Brahman)? What makes his position even
more difficult to communicate is that he stipulates that one cannot use language
to accurately reflect reality (Brahman), because language is inherently dualistic:
Nor again is [Atman] expressed by words denoting an object, by saying [of It]
it is known. Atman is never taken to be expressible by words or cognizable,
according to those who [realize that] Atman is only one, free from pain and
changeless. (Upad, I.18.5657)

Thus, Sankara is advocating a difficult and counter-intuitive doctrine, and one


with a non-communicable subject matter.

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Like Descartes, Sankara calls into question common beliefs about the world.
Sankara also uses an everyday example at various points in his workwhat I will
call the dreamless sleep example. I argue that this example is more than illustrative; instead, it is important to his persuasive goals, because it experientially pushes
his point of non-individuation. I will eventually argue that one can take his use of
example in a comparative and constructive senseas a solution to the problem of
orientational change in a way that Descartess use of example ultimately fails to
capture. First, we must explore the example and how Sankara uses it. In a variety
of his work, he explicitly appeals to the ontological states many (if not all) individuals have experienced. These states of being are categorized into four states:
that of waking (jagrat), dreaming (svapna), dreamless or deep sleep (susupti),
and pure consciousness (turya). This division is brought up as more than a correct description of the world. Sankara employs this analysis to make two fundamental points: (1) that it is possible to experience states of non-duality and (2)
that the individuation of (waking) reality is ultimately illusory.
The first rhetorical function this example serves is to convince auditors that
Sankaras proffered orientation of non-individuation is not prima facie impossible.
How does it do this? By organizing ones experience into such a hierarchy, it
makes clear the type of experience that transcends duality. Thus, while dreamless
sleep (susupti) is often the closest most individuals come to true knowledge of reality (as Atman=Brahman), it is still enough to push them further on the quest
toward enlightenment. It represents an instantiation of non-individuation that
one has experienced and remembers as blissful (restful, content). For Sankara, it
is an excellent example of experience that does not require or foreground agents
or doers, and activities and objects of desire. Instead, it was merely being one without a secondprecisely the way Sankara describes Atman=Brahman and the
absence of doership (Marcaurelle). Sankara often appeals to this example without
explicit argument, further highlighting its power in that it assumes basic states of
being that most (if not all) audiences will bring into the rhetorical situation. For
instance, in the Upadesahasr he claims that Sense-perception should be known as
the waking state, memory as the dreaming state, the absence of both as the state of
deep sleep, and ones own Atman as the highest state (I.17.24).
Both of the first two states (waking and dreaming) presuppose an individuation
among objects. In the state of waking life, the individuation is among objects of
sense experience (as well as agents); in the case of dreaming sleep, there is individuation in the form of dream objects and subjects. Both states involve the fundamental individuation Sankara targetsthat between ones self and objects
(including other selves). The state of dreamless sleep, however, lacks even this
basic form of individuation. Thus, one remembers the time spent in the state of
deep sleep as restful (not filled with nightmares or restless sleep), and as non-individuatednamely, as a state with no objects, no subjects, and no activity driven
by concepts and desires. Notice that one will not remember the state of dreamless
sleep as one remembers a walk in the park; such a way of remembering would

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simply reify the sort of subject=object dualism deep sleep is said to transcend.
Instead, one remembers a state of being without dualism, without being a subject confronted with separate objects. Sankara is bringing to mind a state that all
have experienced that comes close to the endpoint of seeing the world as
non-individuated Atman=Brahman; in doing so, he is showing that the experience
of the former state illustrates the possibility of reaching the latter. This is why I call
this strategy a possibility-instantiating example.8 It illustrates the possibility of
experiencing a state by either (1) evoking that state through the experience of
some text, or (2) showing how the audience has already experienced such a state
in their past.
The second function of the dreamless sleep example can be construed as arguing
for the unreality of waking life. This is an integral part to his project of orientational change, and one connected to his claim that all individuation is the result
of the superimposition of non-necessary qualities upon Atman=Brahman. He is
not claiming that the world is unreal, since it does seem to be something. It is more
accurate to call it an illusionsomething between the realms of being (sat) and
non-being (asat). Illusion, like the non-real, is not what is ultimately true or real,
because the latter is characterized by the Advaitin criteria of that which can never
be contradicted. This condition is similar in its absoluteness to Descartess clear
and distinct ideas being the paradigm of truth. Of course, many can disagree with
such a standard of reality, but we will here forgo such an analysis to pursue the
constructivist project of how Sankara seems to be arguing for such an interesting
orientation. This criterion comes into play in his Upad, when he claims that the
objects and individuation in the dream state and waking state are merely conditionally real (and not truly real):
Both of them are adventitious [and] not your nature. If [they] were your nature
[they] would be self-established and continuous like your nature, which is Pure
Consciousnesses. Moreover, the dreaming and waking states are not your nature, for [they] depart [from you] like clothes and so on. It is certainly not
experienced that the nature of anything, whatever it may be, departs from it.
But the dreaming and waking states depart from the state of Pure
Consciousness-only. (II.2.89)

Dreams seem real, but are ultimately judged as unreal because one wakes up
from them. The individuation that was so real and moving in most dreams turns
out to be merely an illusionone that disappears in its reality and practical
import upon waking up from the dreaming state. The important rhetorical
move comes when he applies this same criterion to the waking state. The waking
state subsumes or sublates the putative reality of the objects in the dream state by

8
Further discussion of this type of example, as well as its employment in Indian philosophy, can be found
in Stroud, Argument in Ancient India.

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showing them to not be truly real (in terms of permanence and importance across
states). He then argues that the waking state, with all its individuated objects
and subjects, is also unreal because it is sublated by the experience of nonduality
in dreamless sleep. This experienced instance of non-duality (deep sleep) shows
that the fundamental quality of individuation is not an essential part of our experience or part of your nature. At another place, Sankara makes this connection
even more overt: Everything comes from nescience. This world is unreal for it
is seen by one who has nescience and is not perceived in the state of deep sleep
(I.17.20). The experienced instance of dreamless sleep puts the ontological reality
of the individuated world into question, a major step in Sankaras rhetorical
project.
What is important in a comparative, constructive rhetorical analysis is to pay
attention not only to similarities, but also to differences that may be of some value
or importance. While they initially seemed parallel, it now seems that Sankaras
use of the sleep example differs in a vital regard from Descartess. For Sankara,
the dreamless-sleep example truly plays the role of an experiential argumentit
depends on common and shared experiences that the rhetors audience could
be expected to have, and it uses the device of example to imaginatively evoke
and reflect on such experiences. Descartes simply wanted a theoretical reason
for his audience to entertain certain doubts, not a sea-change in the audiences
orientation to life and the practical changes it could spawn. The rhetorical force
of the dreamless sleep example is often overlooked by commentators who want
to take it as a descriptive proof of some claim about the world. Hartshorne,
for instance, argues that Sankaras dream-based argument against realism fails
because it does not account for how sleep usually occursIt is simply false that
the real physical world we all share is entirely absent from our dreams (100).
Noises heard while dreaming will affect our dreams, and our dreams will affect
our bodily states (such as heart rate). In Hartshornes account, this example fails
because it does not mirror the interpenetration of most cases of sleep and waking
life. Sankaras point is more nuanced than this, however, and it is rhetorical in its
intent. He emphasizes the state of dreamless sleep because it is one instance of
non-individuation that his audience will have experienced already. This rhetorical
point is not eclipsed by the physiological realities of such states being interlinked,
or by claims of their relative frequency. Sankaras point is rhetoricalit uses an
example as a device that can move people to the orientational change he desires.
One could also object that this is a mis-remembering of what occurred in
dreamless sleep. This is Prasads objection to Sankaras account of individuation.
Taking the descriptive approach to Sankaras rhetorical tactics, one may see merit
in this line of critiqueperhaps Sankara does assert a variety of claims connected
to the ontology of sleep on the basis of a priori arguments, scriptural statements,
and empirical analogues which are all guided by metaphysical and religious presuppositions (66). Before one concludes with Prasad that Sankaras claims about
the world are epistemologically and empirically impossible to establish (66), one

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could approach this text using the constructive methodology I have detailed
earlier. What sort of purposes could he be motivated by? What could he be intending with such examples? Instead of taking them as descriptive, theoretical accounts
of the world, one could see them as attempts to evoke a certain recollection in the
audience to convince them of the possibility of some orientation that seems
impossible to hold. If one sees the dreamless sleep example as a rhetorical device
and as an experiential argument, then one sees how it operates in Sankaras writings, as well as why it could be more persuasive to a reader than Descartess dream
argument. Even if ones memory of the non-individuated state of dreamless sleep
is incorrect, one is still seeing the sort of experience Sankara wishes to evoke. He
can then relate this evoked experience to his desired orientational change:
He who, in the waking state, like a man in the state of deep sleep, does not see
duality, though [actually] seeing, because of his nonduality, and similarly he
who, though [in fact] acting, is actionlesshe [only] is the knower of Atman,
and nobody else. (I.10.13)

This set of ontological states can be used as a way to convey to his audience
native or foreign, ancient or contemporarythat his project of orientational
persuasion is not impossible.

Conclusion
The persuasive or rhetorical point of such examples can be missed by commentators focused on descriptive issues. The method one takes to such comparative analyses will condition and shape the sort of results one finds. One who is more
concerned with historical detail may not even see such a comparison as legitimatethe contexts, vocabularies, and meanings are too different to even find a
common ground on which to start ones analysis. From the pragmatist perspective,
a reconstructive analysis of Descartes and Sankara can see their argumentative and
rhetorical tactics in a way that recognizes possible cultural influences on their purposes, along with recognizing the rhetorical investigators needs. If this is a satisfying construction in light of this exigency, then the pragmatist has no problem in
glossing over some historical detail that may prove paralyzing to a non-constructive
engagement with these figures. From the reconstructive perspective, this comparative analysis has demonstrated one emergent way to escape the problem of conservativism in rhetorical theory noted by Kirkwood and Stroud. One can see narratives
(and such narrative elements in argument such as examples) as not merely judged
by their consonance with the audiences past values (as in Fisher), but instead as
tools to expand and challenge ones state of mind or orientation. Possibilityinstantiating examples, part of the experience of attending to a text, evoke reader
memories of past experiences (such as sleep experience) that are now recontextualized as supporting a present claim advanced by the rhetor.

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375

The historical or descriptive stories one can give concerning Descartes and Sankara can complicate or complement the analysis I have previously given. One
could even construct other readings of these figures for other purposesperhaps
even showing the superiority of Descartess approach over Sankaras for some
other purpose. But the constructive point in my account is still of valueSankara
shows the experiential power of examples in a way that Descartes attenuates, and
this can help us find a way out of the conundrum entailed by Western notions
of auditor judgment and orientational change. When looked at in the way I propose, the dreamless sleep example is not just used to make a theoretical point
that is then dissolved (as in Descartess Meditations); instead, Sankara identifies
an experience that all putatively have had in everyday life, and then pushes it as
proof of a new way of seeing the world. While this new orientation toward the
world is radically foreign to his audience, he makes it all the more palatable by
tethering it to their experience and by drawing out its implications for their
everyday experience. One uses an auditors experience to challenge her or his
self-conception, her or his existing orientation toward self and other. Descartess
line of argument works only insofar as one attends to it, and agrees with each
move; experiential overlap between the auditor and the rhetor is not necessitated. In Sankaras case, however, the overlap is assumed and is necessaryhis
brief evocations of the sleep example and his longer descriptions of the states
involved both assume that individuals will agree that this matches their experience. Indeed, he provides nothing to prove that this is a valid division of experience. This is taken for granted, and the real argumentative work comes in the
meaning of what one has experienced and how it relates to the possibility for
which Sankara is arguing. The point of his evocation of such an example is
not logical; it is rhetorical and experiential.
Perhaps this was not Sankaras only intention or practicehe did use many
other arguments that we would consider deductive and relatively straightforward
in his attacks on rival systems. But the pragmatist point is that we can see his use
of this example in this experiential way, and it can be useful in how we reform
our own theories on rhetorical action and change. This is the fruit of the constructive approach to comparative rhetoric, and it is driven by different (albeit
not mutually exclusive) purposes than historically oriented descriptive
approaches. More work can and should be done on topics in Indian rhetoric,
as well as comparative rhetoric in general. The main point that can be gained
from pragmatist views on criticism and interpretation, however, is that all of
these approaches ought to be openopen to being corrected in the future and
open to alternative ways of going about things. The older, deficiency model
approaches erred because they (incorrectly) assumed that this is Chinese rhetoric, this is the meaning of the Gita, and so forth. Many contemporary
approaches misstep insofar as they criticize various scholars for not being proficient enough in primary languages, for making generalizations, and for invoking
dualisms in discussions of different rhetorical traditions. One could have

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purposes beyond and other than accurate description, even assuming such objectivity is possible. Such a respectful and open pluralism is what is proffered by
pragmatism in its philosophical haunts, and such a boon is what it can similarly
bestow on the still-nascent methodology of comparative rhetoric.
Acknowledgment
This article has benefited from the helpful and critical comments of the editor,
Barry Brummett, and two anonymous reviewers for this journal.
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