Sample Rectenwald Michael AWRT Concise Ed
Sample Rectenwald Michael AWRT Concise Ed
Sample Rectenwald Michael AWRT Concise Ed
net/publication/308470687
CITATIONS READS
0 6,394
1 author:
Michael Rectenwald
New York University
108 PUBLICATIONS 104 CITATIONS
SEE PROFILE
All content following this page was uploaded by Michael Rectenwald on 04 September 2021.
broadview press
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, kept in an information storage
and retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical,
including photocopying, recording, or otherwise, except as expressly permitted by the
applicable copyright laws or through written permission from the publisher.
Distribution is handled by Eurospan Group in the UK, Europe, Central Asia, Middle East,
Africa, India, Southeast Asia, Central America, South America, and the Caribbean. Distribution
is handled by Footprint Books in Australia and New Zealand.
Broadview Press acknowledges the financial support of the Government of Canada through
the Canada Book Fund for our publishing activities.
PRINTED IN CANADA
PART I
ACADEMIC WRITING: A GUIDE
Introduction. . ..................................................................................................... 21
The Basics....................................................................................................... 21
Formal Writing—What’s That?..................................................................... 22
Issues...................................................................................................... 34
Practice Session. . .................................................................................... 34
Expressions of Purpose and Topic.. ....................................................... 34
Humanities: Interdisciplinary Studies.. ............................................ 34
Social Sciences: Political Science. . ..................................................... 35
Physical Sciences: Physics, Philosophy of Science.............................. 36
Narrowing Your Topic............................................................................ 36
The Thesis Statement..................................................................................... 37
Framing a Working Thesis..................................................................... 38
The Claim.. .............................................................................................. 39
Reasons.................................................................................................. 39
Sample Thesis Statements..................................................................... 40
Humanities: Philosophy. . ................................................................. 40
Social Sciences: Sociology................................................................. 40
Physical Sciences: Neurology and Psychiatry.................................... 41
Qualifying Your Thesis........................................................................... 41
Practice Session. . .................................................................................... 42
The Thesis as a Unifying Thread............................................................ 42
Refining Your Thesis.............................................................................. 42
Audience......................................................................................................... 43
Critical Theorists Imagine Their Readers.............................................. 44
Wolfgang Iser: The Ideal Reader. . ..................................................... 44
Stanley Fish: The Informed Reader.................................................. 44
Erwin Wolff: The Intended Reader................................................... 44
Constructing Your Own Ideal Reader.. .................................................. 45
Writing Style: Adapt It to Your Ideal Reader........................................ 45
Addressing Audience.. ............................................................................ 46
Humanities: Philosophy. . ................................................................. 46
Social Sciences: International Relations........................................... 47
Physical Sciences: Philosophy of Science........................................... 47
Practice Session. . .................................................................................... 47
Narrative Perspective..................................................................................... 48
Third Person: Perceived Objectivity...................................................... 48
First and Second Person: Personal Stake in Narrative......................... 49
Note: Why Is “I” the First Person?.. ....................................................... 49
Table 1: Narrative Perspective............................................................... 50
Evidence.. ........................................................................................................ 50
Presentation of Evidence....................................................................... 50
Humanities: Philosophy. . ................................................................. 50
Social Sciences: Psychology.............................................................. 51
Physical Sciences: Environmental Science.. ....................................... 52
Appeals........................................................................................................... 53
Ethos...................................................................................................... 53
Pathos..................................................................................................... 54
Logos...................................................................................................... 54
Examples of Faulty Causation Arguments. . .......................................... 55
Table 2: Logical Fallacies........................................................................ 56
Beginning to Write. . ....................................................................................... 57
Focus: Free Writing. . .............................................................................. 57
Argument....................................................................................................... 79
Focus: Argument versus Opinion. . ........................................................ 80
Examples of Argument.......................................................................... 81
Humanities: Art History.. ................................................................ 81
Social Sciences: Economics............................................................... 81
Physical Sciences: Environmental Studies........................................ 82
PART II
REAL WORLD TOPICS
Chapter 1. Living in a Digital Culture........................................................... 97
Introduction................................................................................................... 97
Contexts of Discussion.......................................................................... 97
Areas of Research and Conjecture......................................................... 98
Issues and Stakeholders.. ..................................................................... 100
As You Read. . ........................................................................................ 103
Suggested Additional Resources.. ........................................................ 103
Glossary.............................................................................................................. 349
Permissions Acknowledgments......................................................................... 369
Index................................................................................................................... 373
INSTRUCTORS
Like many textbooks perhaps, this one began in frustration. As members of a
committee charged with developing across-the-curriculum writing instruction, we
eventually began a search for textbooks. We wanted to introduce first-year writers
to instructions and examples based on a broad range of academic and scholarly
writing. We also wanted to present academic writing as relevant, exciting, and
important. The most likely candidates, we assumed, would be writing across the
curriculum (WAC ) and writing in the disciplines (WID ) textbooks.
We soon found that the books in these categories consisted of lengthy instruc-
tion in academic research and writing, along with collections of readings culled
almost exclusively from mainstream newspapers and magazines, trade publica-
tions, and general-audience nonfiction books. In other words, the existing WAC
and WID books contained little if any actual academic writing. Further, most of
the topics seemed shop-worn (especially for instructors), and many of the essays
seemed dated; none seemed to adequately represent what we took to be the most
exciting and important issues of our time. Meanwhile, those few non-WAC /WID
textbooks that did represent scholarly prose were confined to the humanities and
social sciences. Science and technology fields were virtually absent. And such text-
books were lopsided in more than disciplinary ways: few seemed to explore the
incredible diversity of perspectives that we regularly encountered in the academy.
Our students were compelled to take first-year writing—a course suppos-
edly designed to prepare them for writing in future courses, regardless of their
chosen major. They thus needed access to a wide array of writing drawn from the
entire disciplinary spectrum. They also required immediate access to the different
ways of thinking available to them as members of the academic community. But
we held another requirement for a book: writers, we knew from experience, are
far more likely to be engaged when they are asked to participate in lively conver-
sations about contemporary and complex topics. Nothing stifles writing and
discussion more than the sense of working in isolation, or writing about largely
settled, dead-end issues. We wanted a text that collected essays clustered around
timely, compelling, and intriguing topics.
Having no luck finding such a book, we decided to write it ourselves. 13
ACADEMIC WRITING,
REAL WORLD TOPICS
We endeavored to create a book that provided completely up-to-date rhetorical
instruction in conversation with cutting-edge readings divided into several chap-
ters, each chapter focusing on a topic area relevant to student writers both inside
and outside the academy. Academic Writing, Real World Topics features contempo-
rary readings on major issues of real import to contemporary students: living in
a digital culture, learning in a digital age, living in a global culture, and assessing
armed global conflict. Students will see how contemporary writers like them-
selves respond to issues relevant to their lives while maintaining scholarly rigor
and incorporating the ideas of others, past and present.
Interdisciplinary Connections
Accompanying its focus on disciplinary distinctions is another important guiding
rationale for this book: the making of interdisciplinary connections. Many WAC
textbooks (and surely most WID textbooks) divide their readings into disciplinary
or broader academic categories. Such an arrangement recommends an insularity
that defeats one of the principles guiding writing in and across the disciplines:
that the various approaches to knowledge and the world are interconnected and
that disciplines as seemingly disparate as biology and history share many features.
Furthermore, such disciplines often speak to each other in their writings on the
same or closely related topics.
Disciplinary Distinctions
Academic Writing, Real World Topics aims to reveal these connections and shared
features, but it also clarifies disciplinary distinctions. In fact, when different disci-
plinary approaches are juxtaposed, their distinctive features become more apparent.
Throughout this book, we highlight the distinguishing features of writing in the
various areas of the academy, demonstrating through examples and instruction
the crucial role that the writing context and the composition of the reading audi-
ence plays in the composition of academic prose.
Full-Length Essays
With a few exceptions, Academic Writing, Real World Topics uses essays or chapters in
their entirety. Full-length essays allow students to see how all the parts of a piece of
writing work together. Essay lengths vary from two to twenty-five pages.
Classroom Success
We have classroom-tested the Guide to academic writing, as well as all of the
chapters in Real World Topics, and have found that each works extremely well to
encourage and foster student discussion and writing.
CONTACT US
We hope your experience teaching with Academic Writing, Real World Topics is as
rewarding for you and your students as it has been for us and ours. We welcome your
comments, questions, critiques, suggestions, and stories of classroom experiences
related to this book. Please write to: [email protected].
the humanities,
the social sciences, and
science and technology.
BUT ...
Good writing is good writing. You can apply most of what you learn
here to everything you write, in any field. Writers in every field use
similar means to organize material, address the reader, consider the
texts of others, and cite sources.
21
This book gets you started with academic writing. But the skills you learn here
you can use throughout life:
The Readings
Reading is one of the best ways to learn how to write; theoretical discussions are
less helpful without the context of real-world writing. So as you read this guide, you
will be pointed to specific examples from Part II , as well as to pieces of academic
writing published elsewhere. We hope the examples will help you understand how
a particular writing maneuver operates in real academic writing.
The writing we draw from for Real World Topics includes the kind of writing
we imagine you practicing—writing that engages complex, controversial, and
exciting topics. Our aim is to introduce you to a variety of academic writing—in
the context of lively and relevant conversations, rather than dull, dead areas of
research. The articles in this book are written by scholars discussing critical issues
that affect, inform, or interest academics and other scholars, as well as the world
at large. The readings draw on various disciplines and represent the major group-
ings of the university: the arts, humanities, social sciences (including economics
and business), physical sciences, and technology. These essays are meant to intro-
duce you not only to academic writing, but also to scholarly thought itself.
We hope the readings found here will serve as invitations to their respective
fields and to the world of thought and action that they represent. We also hope
that the topics we introduce—living in a digital culture, learning in a digital age,
living in a global culture, and assessing armed global conflict—will interest you
as a citizen of the world, now and beyond your academic career.
The topics we have included are designed to provoke spirited responses. Initially,
you will read to familiarize yourself with the topics at hand. But we hope you will
soon be drawn into the conversation. Ultimately, you will read the articles with a
view to writing essays of your own: you will be reading as a writer.
Reading as a Writer
What does it mean to read as a writer? It means that you are reading not only
to consume the texts of others, but also to respond to them. It also means that
even as you read carefully to understand what the writer is saying, you will
simultaneously read to understand how the writer is saying it and why he or she
is putting it that way.
After each of the readings in Part II ,
The first set of prompts for discussion and writing ask you to consider
“What It Says”—the content of an argument.
The second set of prompts asks you to consider “How It Says It”—the
kinds of maneuvers the writers use to make their cases.
The third section of prompts gets you started with this task, asking you
to “Write about It”—to incorporate your own ideas and to respond
thoughtfully and creatively to the discussion. The questions for synthesis
and contribution at the end of each chapter help you to put the texts
into conversation with each other and to contribute to a conversation
yourself.
ANNOTATING A TEXT
FOCUS
In general, highlighter pens are of limited use. Your brain often doesn’t process the
information, so you’ll have to come back to it later and put it into your own words to
make sure you’ve got a handle on it.
A more effective method is to annotate or gloss a text. Annotating or glossing can
take several forms, all of which you can use on one article:
Note important terms and central Make a short note in the margin
ideas. that summarizes quotations that
Note the topic, thesis, and are striking or interesting. You might
evidence. See the sections below for want to come back and quote or
discussions of these terms. Again, it paraphrase these when you begin
will be more effective to rewrite these writing your own essay.
parts of the text in your own words List your own responses to the text as
rather than merely underlining or you read. Especially if the article is long
highlighting them. and complex, you might have a hard
Ask questions about the text. time remembering your responses
There may be something you don’t once you go to write your own essay.
understand that you’ll need to look Including your responses to the text in
up in another source or read further the margins will help you to keep track
to clarify. of your own reactions to the reading.
Note how one idea connects, or might Once you’ve read the essay, write
connect, to another text or another a short note of your impressions
idea in the same text. Linking what of it. Compare the article to others
you already know to new information you’ve read. Note ideas you still don’t
is the best way to learn and remember understand. Note possible “holes”
the new information. Once a concept in the argument, or interesting ways
is clear in your own head, you’ll find it you could expand upon or rebut the
much easier to respond to. argument.
We hope that the value and importance we place on digital media not only
will make you feel more comfortable as you enter into academic discourse, but
also, and more importantly, will aid you in its composition and interpretation.
Soon after the passage quoted below, he refers to transhumanists as “some sort
of odd cult,” but he soon tells the reader why they should be taken seriously.
For the last several decades, a strange liberation movement has grown
within the developed world. Its crusaders aim much higher than civil rights
campaigners, feminists, or gay-rights advocates. They want nothing less than to
liberate the human race from its biological constraints. As “transhumanists” see
it, humans must wrest their biological destiny from evolution’s blind process of
random variation and adaptation and move to the next stage as a species.
Source: Francis Fukuyama, “Transhumanism,”Foreign Policy 1 Sept. 2004: n.p.,
http://www.foreignpolicy.com/articles/2004/09/01/transhumanism.
Hannay and Fretwell (2011) predict that Web 2.0 applications will soon be
taken up by universities and suggest these technologies will have implications
for the academic workplace; students will demand that faculty members
communicate digitally, via instant messaging, Twitter and other technologies.
Similarly, companies will expect their recruits, our graduates, to be versed in
social media technologies (Wankel, 2009). It is unsurprising, then, that we, as
educators, are being encouraged to use Twitter to enable interactivity, excite
learners, and foster greater student participation.
Responding to this challenge, educators in higher education have started
to experiment with Twitter in the hope students seize the opportunity to
interact more frequently, engage more thoughtfully, and foster learning inside
and beyond the classroom (Grosseck and Holotescu, 2008; Junco et al., 2011;
Perez, 2009; Schroeder et al., 2010). Establishing five social media literacies,
namely attention, participation, collaboration, network awareness, and
critical consumption, Rheingold (2010) emphasizes the need for Twitter to
be a valuable communication tool, in contrast to Twitter’s potential pitfall of
being a mere distraction (Wankel, 2009). Ultimately, Twitter can be a powerful
collaboration tool (Corbeil and Corbeil, 2011; Rheingold, 2010). Summarizing,
Reuben (2008) emphasizes the tremendous potential Twitter could play in
education, but acknowledges that no one has found the right niche just yet.
Source: Eva Kassens-Noor, “Twitter as a Teaching Practice to Enhance Active and Informal
Learning in Higher Education: The Case of Sustainable Tweets” (see Chapter 2, pp. 181–98).
The goal of online database research is to produce sufficient resources to give you
an overview of your topic area, but not so numerous that you have to wade through
thousands of articles only tangentially related to your topic.
your school’s library, for books and journals that are not yet digitized;
empirical observations made in a lab through studies or experiments;
and
interviews you’ve conducted with experts in the field or with others who
can provide you with evidence or testimonials related to your topic.
Once you have pulled together published research, plus whatever experiments or
surveys you have conducted yourself, you are ready to carefully read, annotate,
summarize, and synthesize your information. More on that later.
First, here’s an overview of how to organize, respond to, and document your
research material, based on the academic discipline in which you’re conducting
research. A few basics:
Research Methods
Humanities: Literary Theory
In the passage below, N. Katherine Hayles reveals a process common to research
and writing in the humanities: reading and analyzing the research and opinions
of others on the subject at hand.
To use databases most effectively, it helps to have in mind a specific area of inquiry
or a question you hope to solve within your topic. With this idea in mind, you can type
a search phrase or keywords into the search box in your database. Listed below are
some steps for getting started researching your topic.
Start with the most specific phrase Did this search produce a reasonably
you can think of. long list of articles? If so, scroll
Limit your search to peer-reviewed through the titles and click on the
journals published within the last few ones that look most relevant.
years. This will give you a quick idea Read the abstract for each article. This
of what the current conversations are short synopsis will tell you whether
on your topic. the article is relevant to your research.
One example: type “21st century Did your search terms yield no or very
US hate crime law” in your search few results? You’ll need to broaden
box, and limit your search to full- your search. For example, this time
text articles in peer-reviewed journals you might try “US hate crime law.”
published between January 2014 and Don’t give up: You might have to come
December 2015. up with several search phrases before
you have a workable list of articles.
One of us (Small) enlisted the help of Susan Bookheimer and Teena Moody,
U.C.L.A. experts in neuropsychology and neuroimaging. We planned
to use functional magnetic resonance imaging to measure the brain’s
activity during a common Internet computer task: searching Google for
accurate information. We first needed to find people who were relatively
inexperienced and naive to the computer.
After initial difficulty finding people who had not yet used PC s, we were
able to recruit three volunteers in their mid-50s and 60s who were new
to the technology yet willing to give it a try. To compare the brain activity
of these three naive volunteers, we also recruited three computer-savvy
volunteers of comparable age, gender and socioeconomic background. For
our experiment, we chose searching on Google for specific and accurate
information on a variety of topics, ranging from the health benefits of
eating chocolate to planning a trip to the Galápagos.
Next, we had to figure out a way to perform MRIs on the volunteers while
they used the Internet. Because the study subjects had to be inside a long,
narrow tube of an MRI machine during the experiment, there would be no space
for a computer, keyboard or mouse. To re-create the Google-search experience
inside the scanner, we had the volunteers wear a pair of special goggles that
presented images of website pages. The system allowed the volunteers to
navigate the simulated computer screen and make choices to advance their
search by pressing one finger on a small keypad, conveniently placed.
Source: Gary Small and Gigi Vorgan, “Meet Your iBrain: How Technology Changes the Way We
Think” (see Chapter 1, pp. 118–24).
say as you write, not before you write. That’s the frustration and the joy of writing:
it is a heuristic process, an open-ended method of learning with no hard-and-fast
formulae, no steps or process guaranteed to produce brilliance. But thoughtful
consideration of your purpose, topic, and thesis will help focus your initial draft.
As we’ve said, to do so you will first need to have a good grasp on what other
participants in the conversation have already said. But if all you have done is
rehash old arguments, your writing is a series of summaries; it has no purpose
as a contribution.
Once you have decided on your purpose, you must decide how to get that
purpose across. That’s where rhetorical strategies come in. And the strategies
you use depend on
your topic;
your thesis;
your audience;
the nature of your evidence; and
other considerations.
The Topic
The word “topic” is derived from the Greek word topos (pl. topoi), which means
“place.” Thus a topic can be thought of as an area of discussion.
Your topic is the general subject area of your paper—what your paper
is about.
A topic differs from an argument in two important ways:
it’s objective: it is not a stance, but rather a subject upon which your
argument and the arguments of others will focus.
In other words, when you decide on a topic, you have yet to take a side; you have
simply announced the subject area you will address.
Issues
A topic that is fraught with controversy is often called an
PRACTICE issue. The issue might be the depiction of violence against
SESSION women in horror films, sustainable energy, or the proper
interpretation of a poem. In any case, something is at stake,
Think of an eating
choice that will have and people or organizations have something to gain or lose
such an impact on in the resolution of the controversy.
others that it becomes
While all issues are topics, not all topics are issues.
an issue. Explain why
this topic is an issue. One’s preference for Brussels sprouts over cauliflower
may be a topic of conversation, but it is generally not an
issue. But eating choices can become issues when they impact the lives of others.
For example, vegans believe that eating animal products is unethical.
the institutions we have built over the last 100-plus years. The 20th
century taught us that completing one task before starting another one
was the route to success. Everything about 20th-century education,
like the 20th-century workplace, has been designed to reinforce our
attention to regular, systematic tasks that we take to completion.
Attention to task is at the heart of industrial labor management, from
the assembly line to the modern office, and of educational philosophy,
from grade school to graduate school.
Source: Cathy N. Davidson, “Collaborative Learning for the Digital Age” (see Chapter 2, pp. 172–90).
In the passage below, political scientists John F. Freie and Susan M. Behuniak
introduce their topic, participatory education in a digital age. They make clear that
their purpose is to test the claims made by educators for the liberatory potential
of information and communication technologies (ICT s) against Paulo Freire’s
liberatory educational politics. They signal their doubt with the use of the word
“yet” to begin the second sentence.
The writer decides that violence in the media is her real interest. This subtopic is
more plausible than writing about “the media,” but is still too broad. In fact, most
likely a topic like violence in the media would amount to a survey of some exist-
ing literature. How would one measure the effects of media violence in general?
Could the writer set up a study on the necessary scale?
Perhaps, instead, she decides that she’s interested in the depiction of violence
against female characters in horror films.
After an additional conference with her writing instructor, she decides that
she might examine the function of violence against women within the plots of a
few horror films. This is a manageable topic that surely will yield more satisfying
results—in the context of a student paper—than the other two, much broader
topics. Now, instead of having to set up an elaborate experiment, with a large
sample of viewers studied over a period of time, she can focus on an issue within the
films, looking in particular at how violence against women functions in the plots.
Whether your broad area of concern is the media or something else, your writ-
ing experience will be more rewarding when you locate a particular issue or
subtopic within a broader field.
That’s fine. The process of writing is recursive: that is, it involves repeatedly
returning to the beginning after working through the paper several times to revise
and restate your position.
In fact, it is very rare for a writer to end up with the same thesis he or she started
with. Academic writers begin with a preliminary or working thesis—an argument
that makes sense to them after they have assessed their topic, read through the
literature on that topic, asked some questions about the issue, and found some-
thing that has not yet been addressed or a perspective that has not been offered.
Then, once they start writing, reading more, and reconsidering, they will refine
their original thesis, substantially revise it, or completely overturn it and come
up with another perspective on their topic. This is how the writing process works,
and it’s why we often say that writing is in itself a process of discovery.
Once you’ve set the stage, your thesis statement will seem like the next logi-
cal step. Of course, there are as many ways of expressing a thesis confidently and
clearly as there are good writers.
Once you have arrived at a working thesis, you have to ask yourself, “How am
I going to get the reader to side with me?” To help answer this question, we need
to break the thesis into its parts.
The Claim
The first part of a thesis is the claim, the stance you are taking or the statement
you are making about a particular topic. This is the paper’s main assertion.
For example, in his essay “Is Google Making Us Stupid?” (Chapter 1, pp. 108–16),
Nicholas Carr writes, “And what the Net seems to be doing is chipping away my
capacity for concentration and contemplation. My mind now expects to take in
information the way the Net distributes it: in a swiftly moving stream of parti-
cles. Once I was a scuba diver in the sea of words. Now I zip along the surface like
a guy on a Jet Ski.”
Here, the claim is, “And what the Net seems to be doing is chipping away my
capacity for concentration and contemplation.”
Reasons
Merely claiming something is not enough, however. A good thesis consists of more
than a statement of your belief. A thesis statement should include an abbreviated
expression of why the reader should accept your claim.
Your reasons may include
In part, in the essay introduced above, Carr goes on to support his claim with anec-
dotes from his friends whose experience has been similar, but then notes that
“anecdotes don’t prove much.” He follows these up with the findings of a related
research study and the views of several experts in psychology and neurology. He
might have included an abbreviated statement of his reasons or support for his
claim within the thesis statement.
Every essay in Real World Topics contains a thesis—take a look now and see if
you can identify some. (Some may be implicit rather than explicitly stated.) Notice
that there are many ways to state a thesis, even within each academic division.
Below are some examples.
In this passage, the sociologist George Ritzer assumes that his readers are suffi-
ciently aware of the ubiquity of McDonald’s restaurants to claim that this kind of
globalization applies to “every other aspect of society.” He establishes his topic’s
significance and timeliness by claiming that “McDonaldization” is “an inexorable
process.” He promises to demonstrate this thesis in the paper to follow, using the
phrase “As you will see.” Ritzer’s use of the second person includes the reader in
the argument, implying that Ritzer is taking the reader along with him as together
they discover the global effects of McDonaldization.
As you will see, McDonaldization affects not only the restaurant business
but also education, work, the criminal justice system, health care, travel,
leisure, dieting, politics, the family, religion, and virtually every other
aspect of society. McDonaldization has shown every sign of being an
In the passage below, Gary Small and Gigi Vorgan stake their claim about the effects
of digital technology on the brain. Notice that the thesis is carried over several
sentences and makes several claims: the use of digital technologies is changing
the way we live and communicate; but it is also changing our brains, impacting
how we think, feel, and behave.
The current explosion of digital technology not only is changing the way we
live and communicate but also is rapidly and profoundly altering our brains.
Daily exposure to high technology—computers, smart phones, videogames,
search engines such as Google and Yahoo—stimulates brain cell alteration
and neurotransmitter release, gradually strengthening new neural pathways
in our brains while weakening old ones. Because of the current technological
revolution, our brains are evolving right now—at a speed like never before.
Besides influencing how we think, digital technology is altering how
we feel, how we behave. Seven out of 10 American homes are wired for
high-speed Internet. We rely on the Internet and digital technology for
entertainment, political discussion, and communication with friends
and co-workers. As the brain evolves and shifts its focus toward new
technological skills, it drifts away from fundamental social skills, such as
reading facial expressions during conversation or grasping the emotional
context of a subtle gesture.
Source: Gary Small and Gigi Vorgan, “Meet Your iBrain: How Technology Changes the Way We
Think” (see Chapter 1, pp. 118–24).
most sometimes
usually some (followed by a noun)
generally in some cases
in most cases it may be the case that
often
sources, and if you have further questions on the topic, or come up against gaps in
your own knowledge, read more sources. Each time you read a new source, recon-
sider your thesis. Does it still work?
If not, modify it in light of what you have just read. Of course you will not be
able to read everything on a given topic, but satisfy yourself that you have examined
the issue from several possible perspectives. It often helps to look up the sources
listed or data cited in primary source material. Do the sources contradict each
other? Could the data be interpreted in a different way? Asking these questions,
and continually refining your thesis, will lead you to your final or definitive thesis.
An important determining factor regarding your thesis is the specific form
that your contribution to current scholarship will take. Each type of assertion
requires a different approach. For example, are you saying that other scholars have
Audience
As you work on developing your purpose, topic, and thesis statement, you should
also consider the nature of your audience. Writers sometimes make the mistake
of writing to the page (or the screen) instead of to a human being. In order to get
your point across effectively, you need to envision your intended reader.
The German literary scholar Wolfgang Iser (1926-2007) is known for his “reader-
response” theory. For Iser, the reader is an active participant in the text. The reader
helps create or complete the text’s meaning, based on his or her cultural and social
experience, knowledge, and beliefs. A text then becomes, not the writer’s unchang-
ing self-expression, but a kind of performance between the writer and the reader.
Iser imagined an “ideal reader” who is not necessarily an expert in the subject
he or she is reading, but is
intelligent,
engaged, and
well-read,
and thus “gets” what the writer is saying because the writer and the reader share
The American critic Stanley Fish (b. 1938) imagines a reader who possesses what
he calls “literary competence.” This reader has all the knowledge she needs to
understand the text, but in reading she adds her own reactions to the text, thus
becoming more self-aware as she reads.
Fish suggests that, in some way, the informed reader already understands the
piece of writing, or at least is well prepared to understand it.
The German critic Erwin Wolff (1924-2007) posited that writers create an “intended
reader” to whom they address their writing, shaping the way they tell their story
or construct their argument based on this imagined reader.
By making the reader’s response to the text critical to what and how he or she
writes, the writer, in a sense, “embeds” the reader in the text.
Similarly, a critic may look for meaning in a text by imagining how the writ-
er’s contemporaries might have experienced a text. When and where was the
text written? Who was reading it when it was published? What were the readers’
socioeconomic status, worldview, religious beliefs, moral code, ethnic affiliations,
and gender?
A critic with a complex understanding of a text’s intended reader might better
comprehend the goals of the writer and thus the meaning of the text.
Your ideal reader does not need to already accept your thesis. In fact, a
weaker paper will likely result from imagining that you are “preaching to the choir,”
as if your reader already agrees with you.
As you imagine the readers of your paper, also ask these questions:
the attitude or tone you take toward your topic (casual, formal or
somewhere in between; humorous; sarcastic; somber; angry; serious;
neutral);
perspective (first-, second-, or third-person?) (see the section on
narrative perspective, pp. 48–50);
organization (what are the structural traditions in this field, and what
structure will best carry your argument?);
diction or word choice:
Addressing Audience
Humanities: Philosophy
The excerpt below comes from an essay by philosopher John Nolt on global
warming, a topic more commonly addressed by physical scientists. Throughout
his essay, Nolt uses the first and second person, a narrative perspective that can
draw in readers, helping them identify with the subject and see how it might
directly affect their lives. This approach could help Nolt promote his argument:
that every American is personally responsible for global warming. In his conclu-
sion, below, Nolt discusses the implications of his results. In doing so, he implicates
not only the reader (“you,”) but also himself (“me,” “us”), a rhetorical move that
might disarm the reader, making him or her more receptive to Nolt’s message.
The passage below is from an article originally written for the Harvard International
Review, which publishes articles aimed at “both academic and lay readers who wish
to think seriously about international affairs.” Its writers are Harvard faculty and
students as well as other experts in international affairs.
Amy Lifland, a Harvard undergraduate student when she wrote this essay, seems
to have this audience in mind as she writes. She opens her article by emphasizing
the immediate and widespread nature of the threat of cybercrime. While begin-
ning with its effect on America (her audience is largely American), she quickly
expands the scope of her message to the international stage—and to the military.
In the past six months, hackers have infiltrated the websites and internal
servers of the United States Senate, the CIA , numerous other state and
federal agencies, private corporations, and individuals. The onslaught
seems unstoppable, and the FBI and other US law enforcement agencies
struggle to identify and arrest the hackers responsible for the attacks.
Many hackers are after money, concentrating on identity theft and other
frauds that have allowed them to steal tens of millions of dollars, primarily
from small businesses in the United States. More ominous, however,
is the recent trend of attempted and successful cyber-infiltrations into
government agencies, the military, and the email accounts of government
officials and other individuals with high security clearances, in the United
States as well as other nations.
Source: Amy Lifland, “Cyberwar: The Future of Conflict” (see Chapter 4, pp. 309–11).
Narrative Perspective
As you’re writing an academic paper, you also should ask yourself this question: How
can I best persuade my reader to trust and respect what I am attempting to commu-
nicate? This is where narrative perspective enters your composition process.
For example, a scientific paper written in the first person might lead readers to
believe that the writer or writers have a personal stake in the results that might
interfere with “scientific objectivity.” Science traditionally relies on a dispassion-
ate statement of fact verified by several observers over the observations or beliefs
of a single person. In this situation, first person sometimes seems out of place.
In theory, the third person may lend an argument an aura of objectivity, of
reasoned, measured thought, unsullied by emotion or personal bias. The third-
person perspective, referred to in literature as the omniscient voice, focuses the
reader’s attention on what is being said, rather than on who is saying it.
Some critics and philosophers of science argue that the apparent objectivity of
the writer that is created with the third person is a myth. No writer, they say, can
be other than subjective (personally invested) or intersubjective (connected to the
beliefs of a larger community). Regardless of your position on this philosophical point,
it is important to observe that the third-person voice works to distance the writer
from his or her argument, making the writing more convincing in some contexts
and in some parts of the paper. In other words, the third-person voice of scientific
objectivity is an effective rhetorical strategy for making certain kinds of arguments.
The answer is not as profound as you might expect! This usage derives from the order
in which a verb is conjugated. For example, if you were to conjugate the verb “to be,”
You’d write: I am; you are; he, she, or it is. Since you begin with the “I” form of “to
be,” “I” is known as the “first person.”
The first person is most often used to report on the methods and materials used
in scientific research, which is usually presented in a separate section of scientific
articles (see the section on research methods in the academic divisions, above).
On the other hand, since the first person has the effect of focusing the atten-
tion on the writer rather than on the subject at hand, its use may make the writer
seem more personally involved in his or her argument and perhaps less reliable.
The second person, while rarely used in academic writing, can be effective when
used sparingly. Directly addressing the reader in an informal way sometimes has
the effect of pulling the reader into the argument, encouraging him or her to see
the issue as directly affecting his or her life.
On the downside, “you” and “your” are too informal for much academic writing.
Also, if overused, the second person can begin to feel intrusive, and even cloy-
ing, as if the writer is trying to establish an unearned familiarity with the reader.
First Person Singular: I, me, my, mine I argue, I hold, It is my position that ...
Second Person Singular/Plural: you, your, yours You might think, (You) think about it ...
Third Person Singular: he, him, his; she, her, hers; He writes, In her opinion, One concludes ...
it, its; one, one’s
Third Person Plural: they, them, their, theirs They write, According to them ...
Evidence
Evidence can vary in type, depending on the discipline and the purpose of the
paper, from lab or study results, to the research and opinions of experts in the
field, to personal experience. The purpose of evidence, though, is invariable: it
supports your argument or main points.
Presentation of Evidence
Humanities: Philosophy
In his article “How Harmful Are the Average American’s Greenhouse Gas
Emissions?,” philosopher John Nolt argues that every American creates harmful
greenhouse gases. Philosophers often define concepts that others might take
for granted. Early in the article, for example, Nolt defines “average American”; in
this excerpt he defines “greenhouse gas emissions.” Philosophers also consider the
moral implications of human action. Here, Nolt cites “obvious moral reasons” for
one of his choices. Like many writers in the humanities, he uses the first person
(“I will not take ...” and “we will simply take ...”). His oblique reference to flat-
ulence draws in the reader with humor, seeming to parody scientific language
(“bodily methane emissions”). These approaches can help a writer get the reader
on his side. However, Nolt also backs up his claims with data, indicating that he
is a rational being concerned with accuracy (ethos).
In his book The Better Angels of Our Nature: Why Violence Has Declined, experimen-
tal psychologist Steven Pinker argues that, contrary to what most people believe,
the world has become less violent over the millennia. In the excerpt below, Pinker
supports his claim with a well-organized summary of how, over the ages, human
beings have learned to curb their violent impulses, empathize with others, and
employ reason to solve problems.
Social scientists, as well as humanities scholars, and to a lesser degree phys-
ical scientists, often call on well-known documents to bolster their cases. Here,
Pinker backs up his case with a reference to a “classic book” by the sociologist
Norbert Elias.
The many developments that make up the human retreat from violence
can be grouped into six major trends. The first, which took place on the
scale of millennia, was the transition from the anarchy of the hunting,
gathering, and horticultural societies in which our species spent most of
its evolutionary history, to the first agricultural civilizations beginning
around five thousand years ago. With that change came a reduction in
the chronic raiding and feuding that characterized life in a state of nature.
According to evidence from forensic archeology and ethnographic vital
statistics, the change helped produce a more or less fivefold decrease in
rates of violent death.
The second transition spanned more than half a millennium and is best
documented in Europe. Between the late Middle Ages and the twentieth
century, European countries saw a tenfold-to-fiftyfold decline in their
rates of homicide. In his classic book The Civilizing Process, the sociologist
Norbert Elias attributed this surprising decline to the consolidation of
a patchwork of feudal territories into large kingdoms with centralized
authority and an infrastructure of commerce.
Source: Steven Pinker, “Why the World Is More Peaceful” (see Chapter 4, pp. 324–33).
In her article “The Diplomats Fiddle while Africa Burns,” environmental scientist
and activist Jessica Wilson argues that 1) “human-induced ‘global warming’ ...
drives climate change,” and 2) the actions taken by the world’s leaders have been
inadequate to alleviate human-caused global warming.
Wilson’s article was originally published as a “Commentary” in the South Africa
Journal of Science. Unlike a traditional scientific article, Wilson’s piece does not
take an “objective” stance or style. In her opening sentence, Wilson’s language
is evocative, her tone derisive. She opens with, “All this cloak-and-dagger poli-
tics in the corridors of power would be bearable if the negotiations were even
close to mirroring what is needed to respond to climate change.” However, as her
readers are most likely scientists—if not necessarily environmental scientists—
she uses standard scientific protocol for persuading her reader: she presents
specific data, culled from the research of legitimate scientists. For example,
she cites three studies (as evidenced by the superscripted numbers). Then she
notes figures that the United Nations Environment Programme “has identified”
as a gap between “pledged” and “needed” reductions in greenhouse gas emis-
sions. (In this excerpt, and in the article published on the companion website,
we have retained South African spellings [e.g., tonne for ton].)
Appeals
An appeal is a method a writer uses to persuade his or her reader. Aristotle divided
these appeals into three types: ethos, pathos, and logos.
Ethos
Ethos convinces the reader by persuading her that the writer is credible because
he or she is of sound ethical character, is a sane and reasonable person, and is
worthy of respect. The idea is that a reader who finds a writer credible will find
that writer’s claim credible. Respectful acknowledgement of opposing viewpoints,
along with a reasonable refutation of them, also helps the writer convince the
reader that she is an authority of sound mind whose goal is to find the truth using
fair and just methods. If the writer can persuade the reader that she is all of the
above, the reader is likely to trust the writer, and is therefore more likely to be
convinced of her argument.
In the passage below, Bill Joy, co-founder and chief scientist of Sun
Microsystems, establishes his ethos in the essay “Why the Future Doesn’t Need
Us” by telling a story that puts him at the center of the computer-science revo-
lution. Notice how he casually mentions all of the important software that he
developed as a college graduate student.
Pathos
Pathos is an appeal to the reader’s emotions. The idea is that a reader who becomes
emotionally invested in what she is reading is more likely to be persuaded by the
argument.
Appeals to the emotions are not limited to writers in the humanities. A bota-
nist, for example, might describe the unique beauty and grandeur of the giant
redwood trees in the American West as part of an argument that laws should
protect these trees. An epidemiologist might introduce her study on rugby-related
injuries with a narrative about the number of middle-school athletes paralyzed in
the last year while playing rugby. She might even present a case study of a partic-
ularly promising young rugby player who is now permanently wheelchair-bound
as a result of a rugby injury.
The key is to involve the reader on a personal and emotional level without
making him feel as if he is being unfairly manipulated or exploited.
However, an argument that overdoes the emotional appeal has resorted to
bathos—insincere pathos or sentimentality—which could turn the reader against
the argument.
Logos
Logos is an appeal to logic or sound reasoning. Producing believable data and
other factual information goes a long way toward convincing the reader of your
position. Your data should be both broad and deep, and if you state your claim or
thesis clearly, structure your argument logically, and provide appropriate evidence
to back it up, the reader is more likely to side with you.
For example, let’s say you’re trying to argue that the use of headgear would
significantly reduce the incidence of rugby-related injuries. Your data should
1. cover ten years of head-injury data rather than just one; and
2. include several thousand cases, not just a few hundred.
Data that are both broad and deep in this way is known as a representative
sample, which
1. helps convince the reader that the data are substantive, not merely
anecdotal or incidental; and
2. implies that the writer is interested in uncovering the truth, not just in
promoting her own agenda regarding headgear.
On the other hand, some appeals do not work or are not fair because they don’t
make sense for one reason or another. Thus, work to avoid falling into these logi-
cal fallacy traps. Table 2 lists, defines, and describes the problems with the most
common logical fallacies.
After reading this study, one might be tempted to believe that merely having
more deep discussions will make one happier. But this conclusion may be too
hasty. The report notes that the study’s principal investigator, Dr. Matthias Mehl, a
psychologist at the University of Arizona, recognizes that his small study “doesn’t
prove a cause-and-effect relationship between the kind of conversations one has
and one’s happiness.”
Mehl’s next study involves asking his subjects to consciously “increase the
number of substantive conversations they have each day and cut back on small
talk” and see what is revealed. In this case, Mehl has wisely avoided concluding
that because happier people have substantive conversations, it follows that these
conversations cause happiness.
Ad hominem This fallacy, which is Latin for Makes the writer appear to have a
“against the man,” refers to an personal vendetta against someone
argument that attacks the person who disagrees with him. It tends
making the argument, as opposed to destroy the writer’s ethos. The
to the argument he or she is argument will be discredited because
making. the attack is personal, not logical.
Slippery slope The argument that one small Discredited because the writer has
step or action inevitably leads to not acknowledged the possibility of a
drastic consequences. middle ground.
Post hoc ergo This false logic contends that An easy fallacy to fall into: if a
propter hoc because one event happened after writer doesn’t understand the subtle
another event, the second event complexities of a situation, he or she
must have been caused by the might assume that chronology is linked
first event. In Latin, the phrase to causality. Therefore, writers should
means “after this, therefore carefully analyze other causes before
because (on account) of this,” and claiming that a prior event caused a
is often shortened to “post hoc.” later event.
It is also known as false cause or
coincidental correlation.
Cum hoc ergo This fallacy, similar to post hoc, Simply because two events or
propter hoc means “correlation does not conditions happen together does not
imply causation.” It is a common mean that one causes the other.
mistake in the physical sciences
but can come up in any field.
Beginning to Write
When you begin a paper, your instinct might be to start at the beginning. As it
turns out, the beginning may be the worst place to start.
As we said when discussing thesis statements, you will often write a great deal
before you know exactly what you want to say. If you write your introduction first,
you may later find that it is way too general—or that you have found a more inter-
esting and useful focus than the one you started with. Also, it’s really hard to write
an introduction with a thesis statement when you’re not sure where you will end
up. So you may find yourself staring at a blank screen or page for way too long.
Here’s an alternative—begin in the middle:
FREE WRITING
FOCUS
If you’re having a hard time getting started on this step, try a timed, uncensored
exercise called free writing. Once you have done one or two free writings, you will
at least have something written down that you can shape into something useful for
your paper. Here’s how to go about it:
Decide on a limited time period—say, 15 minutes.
Read over your source material to establish some focus.
Set your timer and start writing.
Focus on a continued stream of writing, ignoring those voices in your head that
may be telling you, “This is dumb. I can’t write.” These and other such phrases are
self-defeating.
If you can’t rid yourself of these thoughts, write them down, then try to re-focus and get
back to the subject at hand. The idea is to try never to allow your pen to stop writing, or
your fingers to stop tapping.
Once your time is up, stop and read over what you have written. You may be
surprised at the useful ideas that have come up.
Underline or highlight the usable parts.
Put your writing away and take a break.
Or, if you’re feeling inspired, set the timer for another 15 minutes and start again,
trying to work from the writing that you have already done.
CULTURE
INTRODUCTION
Contexts of Discussion
Over the past four decades, the exponential growth of new media has resulted
in what many call the “digital revolution.” Surely there is something to be said
for this characterization. Never before have so many people been exposed to
so much media data, made possible mostly by the digitalization of information
of all kinds, including alphanumeric text, still and moving images, and sound.1
According to a New York Times article (“Your Brain on Computers,” June 6,
2010), “in 2008, people consumed three times as much information each day as
they did in 1960.” And now, everyone is involved. Via computers, cell phones,
iPods, and numerous other digital media delivery and communications devices,
consumers are also producers, adding to the mass of messages relayed instantly
across the globe.
Since the spread of the Internet in the 1990s, most aspects of life have felt the
effects of digital media and communications. Shopping, news, entertainment,
work, education, dating, social networking, and even identity formation have
been touched by digital innovations and the cybersphere, the realm where digi-
tal participants meet. Digitalization is also a major factor in economic, social, and
cultural globalization (see Chapter 3).
Any new media “revolution” is inevitably compared to the most important
media development of the early modern world: the printing press introduced
in fifteenth-century Europe (although a printing press was developed centuries
earlier in China). The printing press has been credited with bringing about great
changes in social, educational, cultural, and political realms. It has been credited
1 In digital media, the production (and reproduction) of texts and other artifacts is no longer a
process of printing marks on paper or pressing analog signals onto vinyl or magnetic tape. Rather,
digital media is based on exact copies of code—reducible to unique series of zeros and ones. 97
with increasing literacy rates, instigating the Protestant Reformation, and spur-
ring on the Enlightenment and the development of democratic nation states.
Similarly, some writers and scholars have suggested that the Internet signals the
democratization of literacy, the spread of knowledge to the disadvantaged, the
decentralization of political power, and a more equitable distribution of wealth.
Others have responded with fear or condemnation, seeing instead the downfall
of important traditions and institutions, or the changing of brain patterns for the
worse. The digital revolution, some claim, promises to bring about such changes
as the demise of the book, the reconfiguration if not the “death” of the author,
and the break-up of corporate media dominance.
Yet, while digital innovations have wrought many changes, some writers argue
that many of the above claims are exaggerations. More recent approaches to digi-
tal media have revised the digital media revolution thesis considerably.
As Henry Jenkins suggests in his essay “‘Worship at the Altar of Convergence,’”
included in the Suggested Additional Resources below, rather than outmoding
earlier forms of media, the new digital media have reused, revamped, and repack-
aged older media, while delivering a host of new content and genres through old
and new delivery systems. According to Jenkins, rather than a single medium over-
taking all others, we have witnessed the “convergence” of media forms and the
divergence of media delivery systems. Further, just as the printing press did not
by itself bring about social, cultural, and political revolutions, the Internet is not
a product of technology alone; it involves the conscious and unconscious choices
of social agents and the intended and unintended consequences of such choices.
The new media landscape has also affected those who study the media and the
behaviors associated with them. This chapter looks at both the personal experi-
ences of those who use digital media and some of the varying approaches to this
exciting and daunting terrain.
and other sciences. This chapter includes a paper by computer scientists Mark
Blythe and Paul Cairns.
Human-computer interaction (HCI ), as the name suggests, is the study of
human beings as they interact with computer technology. The field is an amalgam
of disciplines—including anthropology, computer science, psychology, sociology,
and even English language studies. HCI researchers undertake quantitative stud-
ies of user response to software interfaces. HCI research also includes qualitative
or descriptive studies of users’ responses to less quantifiable aspects of computing
experience, such as the level of enjoyment experienced by computer users. Often
delivered via computer interfaces, new media lend themselves to HCI approaches. In
their essay, Mark Blythe and Paul Cairns take, in part, an HCI approach to their topic.
Cultural studies, literary studies, and critical theory analyze contem-
porary culture in connection with social, economic, and political life. Culture
refers to a people’s way of life, which includes the arts, literature, leisure activ-
ities, mass media, music, popular entertainment, and other forms of shared
experience. Cultural studies has been particularly interested in how consumers
“resist” and/or reassign meaning to the products of mass media. Likewise, as Bolter
argues, the field has been challenged by new media that allow for greater partic-
ipation by consumers as producers on the web and elsewhere. Mark Blythe and
Paul Cairns’s essay demonstrates a critical theory or cultural studies approach.
Blythe and Cairns show how critical theory can supplement HCI to analyze users’
responses to the iPhone on YouTube.
Literary studies and critical theory have responded to digital media by consid-
ering the changes that have been wrought for readers and writers. We discuss the
implications of digital media for readers and authors in the Issues and Stakeholders
section, below. Similarly, historians provide an important perspective on the emer-
gence of digital media and their relationship to and differences from earlier media
developments, especially the printing press. We include works from the field of
history in the Suggested Additional Resources at the end of this introduction.
In the fields of neurology and psychology, neurologists, along with cogni-
tive scientists and psychologists, study the effects of new media on the brain and
behavior. Using brain imaging and behavioral trials, researchers show how digital
media are changing individual psychology and even neural patterns in the brain.
Some critics of digital culture lament the effects of the Internet, the iPhone, and
other devices on “digital natives,” as those who have grown up in the digital era
are often called. These critics see the new media contributing to an electronic
attention deficit disorder of sorts.
In his book The Shallows: What the Internet Is Doing to Our Brains, Nicholas Carr
develops this position, using findings of neuroscience to argue that digital media
are making us into shallow thinkers. The germ of Carr’s argument was presented
in his Atlantic article “Is Google Making Us Stupid?,” included in this chapter. We
also include “Meet Your iBrain” by Gary Small and Gigi Vorgan, which represents
a more optimistic perspective offered by neuroscience and computer science.
“Not all participants are created equal,” as Jenkins asserts, but unprecedented
numbers of individuals and groups are able to reach audiences and influence
them, and also to have an impact upon the corporate media themselves. Thus the
questions we must ask are different: What can we make of this new “participa-
tory culture”? Moreover, how are we to study it? Obviously the older paradigm,
wherein media audiences are considered the hapless and passive consumers of
corporate pablum, no longer applies, if indeed it ever did.
Other new questions emerge to intrigue scholars:
What does this newfound power signify for the producers of new media?
What roles can and will they play in the broader social, cultural,
economic, and political spheres?
What will be the relationship between new- and old-style producers?
How will both relate to their audiences?
Are the consequences of participatory cultures only beneficial, or are
some forms of Internet publicity potentially negative?
Creativity and Property: Digitization changes the means by which creative prod-
ucts are made and reproduced. Digital objects, including texts, images, videos, and
sound, are reducible to a series of zeros and ones. Because they can be easily copied
and distributed, these objects are often subject to piracy, such as through the ille-
gal downloading and sampling of music. Intellectual property is the branch of
law established for the protection of creative works and inventions. The digital
realm has challenged the ability of intellectual property law to protect creative
works, including music, videos, photography, books, and computer software.
Some critics suggest that intellectual property law is unsuited for a digital world.
John Parry Barlow, whose essay is included in the Suggested Additional Resources,
argues that intellectual property, or the ownership of intangible works of creativ-
ity, is impossible to maintain. Rather than attempt to patch up the system of legal
protections or to stop copying through encryption, Barlow argues that other ways
of understanding and rewarding creative production must be developed.
Readers and authors: Because they affect the printed book, digital media inno-
vations usher in a whole host of considerations for literary studies. In his book
Hypertext 3.0, included in the Suggested Additional Resources, the literary critic
George Landow considers a number of implications for the practices of reading and
writing brought about by the new media. With the emergence of the web, texts
are connected that were once physically isolated. As the borders that once sepa-
rated texts (and their authors) become more permeable, readers are able to rove
from linked text to linked text at the click of a mouse. Given the kind of access to
texts that digital hypertext affords, readers are thus accorded larger roles in the
creative and interpretive processes.
As You Read
The above are just a few of the many issues that scholars have raised about the
advent and development of new media. Similarly, the following readings cannot
represent all of the possible ways in which to study this complex and vast terrain.
Instead, the articles in this chapter argue for particular approaches to the field
and for the variety of issues that they address. This wide-open field affords plenty
of room for up-and-coming writers.
As you read, consider the approaches as well as the issues involved. You are
most likely a digital native yourself. For example,
How well does a particular approach suit the issue under consideration,
as you see it?
How well do the articles characterize the phenomena?
How might they do better?
1. Consider a subtopic within digital media that you would like to write
about.
2. Decide on an approach that you can carry out on your own and without
an elaborate research study.
3. Read articles that relate to your topic.
4. Supplement the readings here with the Suggested Additional Resources
section below.
Human-Computer Interaction
Carroll, John M. HCI Models, Theories, and Frameworks: Toward a
Multidisciplinary Science. Amsterdam: Morgan Kaufmann, 2003.
Coyne, Richard. The Tuning of Place: Sociable Spaces and Pervasive Digital Media.
Cambridge, MA : MIT Press, 2010. Web.
Erickson, Thomas, and David W. McDonald. HCI Remixed: Essays on Works That
Have Influenced the HCI Community. Cambridge, MA : MIT Press, 2008.
Winget, Megan A, and William Aspray. Digital Media: Technological and Social
Challenges of the Interactive World. Lanham, MD : Scarecrow Press, 2011.
Web.
Journalism
“Attached to Technology and Paying a Price.” New York Times 6 June 2010.
Web.
Barlow, John P. “The Next Economy of Ideas: Will Copyright Survive the
Napster Bomb? Nope, but Creativity Will.” Wired Aug. 2000. Web.
Bilton, Nick. “The Defense of Computers, the Internet and Our Brains.” New
York Times (blog) 11 June 2010. Web.
Carr, Nicholas G. The Shallows: What the Internet Is Doing to Our Brains. New
York: W.W. Norton, 2011.
“Digital Society (explained).” YouTube. 2011. Deutsche Bank Group. Web.
Estrin, James. “Embedded on the Front Lines of the Digital Revolution.” New
York Times (blog) 6 May 2012. Web.
“The Internet Is Making You Smarter!” The Awl. 8 June 2010. Web.
Pinker, Steven. “Mind Over Mass Media.” New York Times. 10 June 2010. Web.
Media Studies
Athique, Adrian. Digital Media and Society: An Introduction. Cambridge: Polity,
2013.
Baym, Nancy K. Personal Connections in the Digital Age. Cambridge: Polity, 2010.
Buckingham, David. Youth, Identity, and Digital Media. Cambridge, MA : MIT
Press, 2008.
Couldry, Nick. Media, Society, World: Social Theory and Digital Media Practice.
Cambridge: Polity, 2012.
Hassan, Robert, and Julian Thomas. The New Media Theory Reader. Maidenhead:
Open UP , 2006.
Howard, Philip N., and Muzammil M. Hussain. Democracy’s Fourth Wave?:
Digital Media and the Arab Spring. Oxford: Oxford UP, 2013.
Jenkins, Henry. “’Worship at the Altar of Convergence’: A New Paradigm for
Understanding Media Change.” Convergence Culture: Where Old and New
Media Collide. New York: New York UP , 2006. 1-24.
Kavoori, Anandam P. Digital Media Criticism. New York: Peter Lang, 2010.
Liestol, Gunnar. Digital Media Revisited. Cambridge, MA : MIT Press, 2004.
Lister, Martin. New Media: A Critical Introduction. Abingdon, UK : Routledge,
2009.
McPherson, Tara. Digital Youth, Innovation, and the Unexpected. The John D. and
Catherine T. MacArthur Foundation Series on Digital Media and Learning.
Cambridge, MA : MIT Press, 2008.
Meikle, Graham, and Sherman Young. Media Convergence: Networked Digital
Media in Everyday Life. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2012.
Messaris, Paul, and Lee Humphreys. Digital Media: Transformations in Human
Communication. New York: Peter Lang, 2006.
Metzger, Miriam J., and Andrew J. Flanagin. Digital Media, Youth, and
Credibility. Cambridge, MA : MIT Press, 2008.
Schlieski, T., and B.D. Johnson. “Entertainment in the Age of Big Data.”
Proceedings of the IEEE 100 (2012): 1404-08.
White, Michele. The Body and the Screen: Theories of Internet Spectatorship.
Cambridge, MA : MIT Press, 2006.
As You Read: Think about your own reading and other media habits. Do you
read mostly on- or offline? Have you noticed a difference between reading on the
web and reading print? Consider the benefits and potential downsides of digital
media in your life:
I can feel it, too. Over the past few years I’ve had an uncomfortable sense
that someone, or something, has been tinkering with my brain, remapping the
neural circuitry, reprogramming the memory. My mind isn’t going—so far as I
can tell—but it’s changing. I’m not thinking the way I used to think. I can feel it
most strongly when I’m reading. Immersing myself in a book or a lengthy article
used to be easy. My mind would get caught up in the narrative or the turns of the
argument, and I’d spend hours strolling through long stretches of prose. That’s
rarely the case anymore. Now my concentration often starts to drift after two or
three pages. I get fidgety, lose the thread, begin looking for something else to do.
I feel as if I’m always dragging my wayward brain back to the text. The deep read-
ing that used to come naturally has become a struggle.
I think I know what’s going on. For more than a decade now, I’ve been spend-
ing a lot of time online, searching and surfing and sometimes adding to the great
databases of the Internet. The Web has been a godsend to me as a writer. Research
that once required days in the stacks or periodical rooms of libraries can now be
done in minutes. A few Google searches, some quick clicks on hyperlinks, and
I’ve got the telltale fact or pithy quote I was after. Even when I’m not working,
I’m as likely as not to be foraging in the Web’s info-thickets, reading and writ-
ing e-mails, scanning headlines and blog posts, watching videos and listening to
podcasts, or just tripping from link to link to link. (Unlike footnotes, to which
they’re sometimes likened, hyperlinks don’t merely point to related works; they
propel you toward them.)
For me, as for others, the Net is becoming a universal medium, the conduit for
most of the information that flows through my eyes and ears and into my mind.
The advantages of having immediate access to such an incredibly rich store of
information are many, and they’ve been widely described and duly applauded.
“The perfect recall of silicon memory,” Wired’s Clive Thompson has written, “can
be an enormous boon to thinking.” But that boon comes at a price. As the media
theorist Marshall McLuhan pointed out in the 1960s, media are not just passive
channels of information. They supply the stuff of thought, but they also shape
the process of thought. And what the Net seems to be doing is chipping away my
capacity for concentration and contemplation. My mind now expects to take in
information the way the Net distributes it: in a swiftly moving stream of parti-
cles. Once I was a scuba diver in the sea of words. Now I zip along the surface like
a guy on a Jet Ski.
I’m not the only one. When I mention my troubles with reading to friends
and acquaintances—literary types, most of them—many say they’re having simi-
lar experiences. The more they use the Web, the more they have to fight to stay
focused on long pieces of writing. Some of the bloggers I follow have also begun
mentioning the phenomenon. Scott Karp, who writes a blog about online media,
recently confessed that he has stopped reading books altogether. “I was a lit major
in college, and used to be [a] voracious book reader,” he wrote. “What happened?”
He speculates on the answer: “What if I do all my reading on the web not so much
because the way I read has changed, i.e., I’m just seeking convenience, but because
the way I THINK has changed?”
Bruce Friedman, who blogs regularly about the use of computers in medicine,
also has described how the Internet has altered his mental habits. “I now have
almost totally lost the ability to read and absorb a longish article on the web or in
print,” he wrote earlier this year. A pathologist who has long been on the faculty of
the University of Michigan Medical School, Friedman elaborated on his comment
in a telephone conversation with me. His thinking, he said, has taken on a “stac-
cato” quality, reflecting the way he quickly scans short passages of text from many
sources online. “I can’t read War and Peace anymore,” he admitted. “I’ve lost the
ability to do that. Even a blog post of more than three or four paragraphs is too
much to absorb. I skim it.”
Anecdotes alone don’t prove much. And we still await the long-term neurolog-
ical and psychological experiments that will provide a definitive picture of how
Internet use affects cognition. But a recently published study of online research
habits, conducted by scholars from University College London, suggests that we
may well be in the midst of a sea change in the way we read and think. As part of
the five-year research program, the scholars examined computer logs documenting
the behavior of visitors to two popular research sites, one operated by the British
Library and one by a UK educational consortium, that provide access to journal
articles, e-books, and other sources of written information. They found that people
using the sites exhibited “a form of skimming activity,” hopping from one source to
another and rarely returning to any source they’d already visited. They typically read
no more than one or two pages of an article or book before they would “bounce”
out to another site. Sometimes they’d save a long article, but there’s no evidence
that they ever went back and actually read it. The authors of the study report:
It is clear that users are not reading online in the traditional sense; indeed
there are signs that new forms of “reading” are emerging as users “power
browse” horizontally through titles, contents pages and abstracts going
for quick wins. It almost seems that they go online to avoid reading in the
traditional sense.
Thanks to the ubiquity of text on the Internet, not to mention the popularity
of text-messaging on cell phones, we may well be reading more today than we did
in the 1970s or 1980s, when television was our medium of choice. But it’s a differ-
ent kind of reading, and behind it lies a different kind of thinking—perhaps even
a new sense of the self. “We are not only what we read,” says Maryanne Wolf, a
developmental psychologist at Tufts University and the author of Proust and the
Squid: The Story and Science of the Reading Brain. “We are how we read.” Wolf worries
that the style of reading promoted by the Net, a style that puts “efficiency” and
“immediacy” above all else, may be weakening our capacity for the kind of deep
reading that emerged when an earlier technology, the printing press, made long
and complex works of prose commonplace. When we read online, she says, we
tend to become “mere decoders of information.” Our ability to interpret text, to
make the rich mental connections that form when we read deeply and without
distraction, remains largely disengaged.
Reading, explains Wolf, is not an instinctive skill for human beings. It’s not
etched into our genes the way speech is. We have to teach our minds how to trans-
late the symbolic characters we see into the language we understand. And the media
or other technologies we use in learning and practicing the craft of reading play
an important part in shaping the neural circuits inside our brains. Experiments
demonstrate that readers of ideograms, such as the Chinese, develop a mental
circuitry for reading that is very different from the circuitry found in those of us
whose written language employs an alphabet.
The variations extend across many regions of the brain, including those that
govern such essential cognitive functions as memory and the interpretation of
visual and auditory stimuli. We can expect as well that the circuits woven by our
use of the Net will be different from those woven by our reading of books and
other printed works.
Sometime in 1882, Friedrich Nietzsche bought a typewriter—a Malling-Hansen
Writing Ball, to be precise. His vision was failing, and keeping his eyes focused
on a page had become exhausting and painful, often bringing on crushing head-
aches. He had been forced to curtail his writing, and he feared that he would soon
have to give it up. The typewriter rescued him, at least for a time. Once he had
mastered touch-typing, he was able to write with his eyes closed, using only the
tips of his fingers.
Words could once again flow from his mind to the page.
But the machine had a subtler effect on his work. One of Nietzsche’s friends, a
composer, noticed a change in the style of his writing. His already terse prose had
become even tighter, more telegraphic. “Perhaps you will through this instrument
even take to a new idiom,” the friend wrote in a letter,
noting that, in his own work, his “‘thoughts’ in music and ALSO SEE
language often depend on the quality of pen and paper.” James Fallows, “Living
“You are right,” Nietzsche replied, “our writing equip- with a Computer”
ment takes part in the forming of our thoughts.” Under (Atlantic, July 1982)
the sway of the machine, writes the German media scholar “The process works this
Friedrich A. Kittler, Nietzsche’s prose “changed from way. When I sit down to
arguments to aphorisms, from thoughts to puns, from write a letter or start the
first draft of an article,
rhetoric to telegram style.”
I simply type on the
The human brain is almost infinitely malleable. keyboard and the words
People used to think that our mental meshwork, the appear on the screen....”
dense connections formed among the 100 billion or so
neurons inside our skulls, was largely fixed by the time we reached adulthood. But
brain researchers have discovered that that’s not the case. James Olds, a profes-
sor of neuroscience who directs the Krasnow Institute for Advanced Study at
George Mason University, says that even the adult mind “is very plastic.” Nerve
cells routinely break old connections and form new ones. “The brain,” according to
Olds, “has the ability to reprogram itself on the fly, altering the way it functions.”
As we use what the sociologist Daniel Bell has called our “intellectual technol-
ogies”—the tools that extend our mental rather than our physical capacities—we
inevitably begin to take on the qualities of those technologies. The mechanical
clock, which came into common use in the 14th century, provides a compel-
ling example. In Technics and Civilization, the historian and cultural critic Lewis
Mumford described how the clock “disassociated time from human events and
helped create the belief in an independent world of mathematically measurable
sequences.” The “abstract framework of divided time” became “the point of refer-
ence for both action and thought.”
The clock’s methodical ticking helped bring into being the scientific mind and the
scientific man. But it also took something away. As the late MIT computer scien-
tist Joseph Weizenbaum observed in his 1976 book, Computer Power and Human
Reason: From Judgment to Calculation, the conception of the world that emerged
from the widespread use of timekeeping instruments “remains an impoverished
version of the older one, for it rests on a rejection of those direct experiences that
formed the basis for, and indeed constituted, the old reality.” In deciding when
to eat, to work, to sleep, to rise, we stopped listening to our senses and started
obeying the clock.
The process of adapting to new intellectual technologies is reflected in the
changing metaphors we use to explain ourselves to ourselves. When the mechanical
clock arrived, people began thinking of their brains as operating “like clockwork.”
Today, in the age of software, we have come to think of them as operating “like
computers.” But the changes, neuroscience tells us, go much deeper than meta-
phor. Thanks to our brain’s plasticity, the adaptation occurs also at a biological level.
The Internet promises to have particularly far-reaching effects on cognition.
In a paper published in 1936, the British mathematician Alan Turing proved that
a digital computer, which at the time existed only as a theoretical machine, could
be programmed to perform the function of any other information-processing
device. And that’s what we’re seeing today. The Internet, an immeasurably power-
ful computing system, is subsuming most of our other intellectual technologies.
It’s becoming our map and our clock, our printing press and our typewriter, our
calculator and our telephone, and our radio and TV .
When the Net absorbs a medium, that medium is re-created in the Net’s image.
It injects the medium’s content with hyperlinks, blinking ads, and other digital
gewgaws, and it surrounds the content with the content of all the other media
it has absorbed. A new e-mail message, for instance, may announce its arrival as
we’re glancing over the latest headlines at a newspaper’s site. The result is to scat-
ter our attention and diffuse our concentration.
The Net’s influence doesn’t end at the edges of a computer screen, either. As
people’s minds become attuned to the crazy quilt of Internet media, traditional
media have to adapt to the audience’s new expectations. Television programs add
text crawls and pop-up ads, and magazines and newspapers shorten their articles,
introduce capsule summaries, and crowd their pages with easy-to-browse info-
snippets. When, in March of this year, The New York Times decided to devote the
second and third pages of every edition to article abstracts, its design director,
Tom Bodkin, explained that the “shortcuts” would give harried readers a quick
“taste” of the day’s news, sparing them the “less efficient” method of actually turn-
ing the pages and reading the articles. Old media have little choice but to play by
the new-media rules.
Never has a communications system played so many roles in our lives—or
exerted such broad influence over our thoughts—as the Internet does today.
Yet, for all that’s been written about the Net, there’s been little consideration of
how, exactly, it’s reprogramming us. The Net’s intellectual ethic remains obscure.
About the same time that Nietzsche started using his typewriter, an earnest
young man named Frederick Winslow Taylor carried a stopwatch into the Midvale
Steel plant in Philadelphia and began a historic series of experiments aimed at
improving the efficiency of the plant’s machinists. With the approval of Midvale’s
owners, he recruited a group of factory hands, set them to work on various metal-
working machines, and recorded and timed their every movement as well as the
operations of the machines. By breaking down every job into a sequence of small,
discrete steps and then testing different ways of performing each one, Taylor
created a set of precise instructions—an “algorithm,” we might say today—for
how each worker should work. Midvale’s employees grumbled about the strict
new regime, claiming that it turned them into little more than automatons, but
the factory’s productivity soared.
More than a hundred years after the invention of the steam engine, the
Industrial Revolution had at last found its philosophy and its philosopher. Taylor’s
tight industrial choreography—his “system,” as he liked to call it—was embraced
by manufacturers throughout the country and, in time, around the world. Seeking
maximum speed, maximum efficiency, and maximum output, factory owners used
time-and-motion studies to organize their work and configure the jobs of their
workers. The goal, as Taylor defined it in his celebrated 1911 treatise, The Principles
of Scientific Management, was to identify and adopt, for every job, the “one best
method” of work and thereby to effect “the gradual substitution of science for rule
of thumb throughout the mechanic arts.” Once his system was applied to all acts
of manual labor, Taylor assured his followers, it would bring about a restructuring
not only of industry but of society, creating a utopia of perfect efficiency. “In the
past the man has been first,” he declared; “in the future the system must be first.”
Taylor’s system is still very much with us; it remains the ethic of industrial
manufacturing. And now, thanks to the growing power that computer engineers
and software coders wield over our intellectual lives, Taylor’s ethic is beginning to
govern the realm of the mind as well. The Internet is a machine designed for the
efficient and automated collection, transmission, and manipulation of information,
and its legions of programmers are intent on finding the “one best method”—the
perfect algorithm—to carry out every mental movement of what we’ve come to
describe as “knowledge work.”
Google’s headquarters, in Mountain View, California—the Googleplex—is the
Internet’s high church, and the religion practiced inside its walls is Taylorism.
Google, says its chief executive, Eric Schmidt, is “a company that’s founded
around the science of measurement,” and it is striving to “systematize every-
thing” it does. Drawing on the terabytes of behavioral data it collects through
its search engine and other sites, it carries out thousands of experiments a day,
according to the Harvard Business Review, and it uses the results to refine the
algorithms that increasingly control how people find information and extract
meaning from it. What Taylor did for the work of the hand, Google is doing for
the work of the mind.
The company has declared that its mission is “to organize the world’s informa-
tion and make it universally accessible and useful.” It seeks to develop “the perfect
search engine,” which it defines as something that “understands exactly what you
mean and gives you back exactly what you want.” In Google’s view, information
is a kind of commodity, a utilitarian resource that can be mined and processed
with industrial efficiency. The more pieces of information we can “access” and
the faster we can extract their gist, the more productive we become as thinkers.
Where does it end? Sergey Brin and Larry Page, the gifted young men who
founded Google while pursuing doctoral degrees in computer science at Stanford,
speak frequently of their desire to turn their search engine into an artificial intel-
ligence, a HAL -like machine that might be connected directly to our brains. “The
ultimate search engine is something as smart as people—or smarter,” Page said
in a speech a few years back. “For us, working on search is a way to work on arti-
ficial intelligence.” In a 2004 interview with Newsweek, Brin said, “Certainly if
you had all the world’s information directly attached to your brain, or an artifi-
cial brain that was smarter than your brain, you’d be better off.” Last year, Page
told a convention of scientists that Google is “really trying to build artificial intel-
ligence and to do it on a large scale.”
Such an ambition is a natural one, even an admirable one, for a pair of math
whizzes with vast quantities of cash at their disposal and a small army of computer
scientists in their employ. A fundamentally scientific enterprise, Google is moti-
vated by a desire to use technology, in Eric Schmidt’s words, “to solve problems
that have never been solved before,” and artificial intelligence is the hardest prob-
lem out there. Why wouldn’t Brin and Page want to be the ones to crack it?
Still, their easy assumption that we’d all “be better off” if our brains were supple-
mented, or even replaced, by an artificial intelligence is unsettling. It suggests a
belief that intelligence is the output of a mechanical process, a series of discrete
steps that can be isolated, measured, and optimized. In Google’s world, the world
we enter when we go online, there’s little place for the fuzziness of contemplation.
Ambiguity is not an opening for insight but a bug to be fixed. The human brain is
just an outdated computer that needs a faster processor and a bigger hard drive.
The idea that our minds should operate as high-speed data-processing machines
is not only built into the workings of the Internet, it is the network’s reigning busi-
ness model as well. The faster we surf across the Web—the more links we click
and pages we view—the more opportunities Google and other companies gain to
collect information about us and to feed us advertisements. Most of the propri-
etors of the commercial Internet have a financial stake in collecting the crumbs
of data we leave behind as we flit from link to link—the more crumbs, the better.
The last thing these companies want is to encourage leisurely reading or slow,
concentrated thought. It’s in their economic interest to drive us to distraction.
Maybe I’m just a worrywart. Just as there’s a tendency to glorify technologi-
cal progress, there’s a countertendency to expect the worst of every new tool or
machine. In Plato’s Phaedrus, Socrates bemoaned the development of writing.
He feared that, as people came to rely on the written word as a substitute for
the knowledge they used to carry inside their heads, they would, in the words
of one of the dialogue’s characters, “cease to exercise their memory and become
forgetful.” And because they would be able to “receive a quantity of information
without proper instruction,” they would “be thought very knowledgeable when
they are for the most part quite ignorant.” They would be “filled with the conceit
of wisdom instead of real wisdom.” Socrates wasn’t wrong—the new technology
did often have the effects he feared—but he was shortsighted. He couldn’t fore-
see the many ways that writing and reading would serve to spread information,
spur fresh ideas, and expand human knowledge (if not wisdom).
The arrival of Gutenberg’s printing press, in the 15th century, set off another
round of teeth gnashing. The Italian humanist Hieronimo Squarciafico worried
that the easy availability of books would lead to intellectual laziness, making men
“less studious” and weakening their minds. Others argued that cheaply printed
books and broadsheets would undermine religious authority, demean the work of
scholars and scribes, and spread sedition and debauchery. As New York University
professor Clay Shirky notes, “Most of the arguments made against the printing
press were correct, even prescient.” But, again, the doomsayers were unable to
imagine the myriad blessings that the printed word would deliver.
So, yes, you should be skeptical of my skepticism. Perhaps those who dismiss
critics of the Internet as Luddites or nostalgists will be proved correct, and from
our hyperactive, data-stoked minds will spring a golden age of intellectual discov-
ery and universal wisdom. Then again, the Net isn’t the alphabet, and although
I come from a tradition of Western culture, in which the ideal (my ideal) was
the complex, dense and “cathedral-like” structure of the highly educated
and articulate personality—a man or woman who carried inside themselves
a personally constructed and unique version of the entire heritage of the
West. [But now] I see within us all (myself included) the replacement of
complex inner density with a new kind of self—evolving under the pressure
of information overload and the technology of the “instantly available.”
WHAT IT SAYS
1. What point is Carr making with his reference to Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A
Space Odyssey? Why do you suppose he begins with such a reference?
2. Carr mentions the media theorist Marshall McLuhan. What did McLuhan say
about media? What point is Carr making about the Internet and digital media
by invoking McLuhan’s ideas?
3. Carr mentions that many of his friends report the same problems that he
has encountered since becoming an avid Internet user. What is the point
of bringing up his friends here? Why is it significant that most are “literary
types”?
4. Carr discusses the philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche and his use of a typewriter
late in life. What effect did the typewriter have on Nietzsche’s writing? What is
Carr’s point in referring to this philosopher and his use of a typewriter?
5. Carr discusses Frederick Winslow Taylor and his role in improving the
efficiency of industry. Carr then draws an analogy between what Taylor did for
manufacturing and what Google is doing for the work of the mind. Explain the
analogy and what Carr is suggesting by making it.
HOW IT SAYS IT
1. Who is Carr’s intended audience? Describe his readers. What cues help
identify his readers and their interests?
2. Consider Carr’s use of anecdotal evidence. How does anecdote work to
advance his argument? Carr acknowledges its limitations. Why? What do you
suppose are the limitations of anecdote?
3. Carr uses analogy to make his argument. How do analogies help Carr make
his case? Why do you suppose he relies on analogy to such an extent?
WRITE ABOUT IT
1. Write an essay in which you consider your own Internet and other digital
media habits and how these affect your abilities to be a good citizen, friend,
and student.
2. Carr discusses the changes wrought on the reading, thinking, and
information-processing habits of digital users today, especially those of his
own generation. Perhaps you do not remember a time when it was different.
Write an essay in which you explore the different ways in which the Internet
and other digital media affect different generations.
3. Find the thesis statement in Carr’s essay and argue against it. In making your
counterargument, draw on the same kinds of support that Carr uses to make
his case: anecdote, scientific studies, and analogy.
BV AcadWritCE-04.indb
View publication stats 117 2016-06-14 4:44 PM