Astrophysicist Neil deGrasse Tyson has dropped the mic on a rapper who claimed Earth is flat, bringing discursive closure to an argument over a long-settled scientific fact.
Dropping the mic, according to the Urban Dictionary, involves "Calling someone out so hard that you just walk away indisputably victorious." Those employing this communication strategy often actually drop a mic or pretend to do so.
In communication terms, dropping the mic represents a form of discursive closure, a concept that refers to a number of strategies designed to end discussions and cut off any further response from others. In short, dropping the mic is a way to end the conversation when the communicator is at an advantage. Traditional forms of discursive closure include naturalization, which is performed when a person says, "That's the way it is," and topical avoidance, which prevents some topics from being discussed.
To see how deGrasse Tyson produces discursive closure by dropping the mic, watch the following video of his appearance on The Nightly Show in January:
As you can see, deGrasse Tyson uses the mic drop to end the argument he was having with B.o.B about the shape of Earth. The action communicates that B.o.B's opinions will no longer be entertained by deGrasse Tyson. He's also using the communication strategy in an attempt to head off science misinformation in general. Settled scientific fact is left in a position of power, and those who might seek to challenge it are dismissed.
We already know Don Henley as a great singer, musician, and entertainer, but as it turns out, he's also a pretty good rhetorician.
For his latest album, Henley effectively uses a rhetorical-narrative device to draw attention to the issue of global warming. The song, "Praying for Rain," employs irony to question our lack of action in responding to the signals of a warming planet. Check out the song here:
Ironic narratives feature main characters overcome by and unable to affect their situations. In "Praying for Rain," the irony becomes apparent when the first-person narrator, a farmer besieged by drought, says, "We hardly had a winter, had about a week of spring. Crops are burned up in the fields. There's a blanket of dust on everything. The weatherman is saying that there ain't no change in sight. Lord, I've never been a praying man, but I'm saying one tonight." Laying out the drought conditions paints the picture of an overwhelming situation for the farmer. He's never seen anything like it--a common reaction to the extreme weather events generated by global warming; and we know he feels powerless because of his admission that the predicament appears endless. Together, these narrative elements suggest we're listening to an irony, a suspicion confirmed when the man who's never prayed is driven to prayer--ironic indeed.
Action, not prayer, however, is the objective of Henley's irony. The farmer might turn to prayer, but that doesn't end the ironic narrative. In desperate circumstances, all he has is prayer, and the desperation only grows as he repeats that prayer over and over again without receiving any response. That's what we're left with: a powerless man and an unheard echo that remain completely at the mercy of their circumstances. In this way, Henley uses the ironic narrative theme of powerlessness as a call for action. The repeated chorus holds us in the frustration of failing to take action, calling into question all those times when people have actually tried to pray drought away.
We can't choose not to act while action is still possible and then expect that we'll be able to act in desperate circumstances, and Henley has given us the right rhetorical device to hit that realization home.
A year and a half ago, I blogged about submitting a paper for publication. Following a long process of peer review, I received news on January 4 that the paper has been accepted for publication in the journal, Environmental Communication.
This was huge news. First, the paper will become my first publication. That fact, combined with the hard work that went into it, gave the acceptance letter special meaning. Second, as I blogged about in announcing the submission, the paper makes a contribution to communication theory by providing a way of discovering important discourses about the environment in media.
I am very proud and excited to be published, and I am glad to have the opportunity to help advance our understanding of the environment.
Every journey might start with a single step, but many steps must follow to ensure the destination is reached.
On December 12, the world took a big first step with the Paris Agreement to address global warming. The agreement represented an important moment, but we have a lot of work ahead to make the most of the accord and expand on its success.
First, the agreement can become a turning point for our planet. After all, the collective decision is historic, bringing together the entire world to address our biggest issue. It's much better than the nothing we had before. Additionally, if the agreement is followed up with meaningful action, it can mark the end of fossil fuels and the full adoption of renewable energy.
On the other hand, the Paris Agreement doesn't contain any binding standards. Also, each country will have to lay out plans to make the agreement reality. Put another way, we have a lot of work to do. The Paris Agreement is big, but it is what we do next that will determine our success.
A first step has been taken on global warming, and we have a long journey ahead before we get where we're going, so let's keep walking.
Endangered wildlife scored a historic election victory in Washington state last Tuesday.
In October, I blogged about how I-1401, an initiative meant to combat the trafficking of endangered species, was set to appear on the state's 2015 ballot. It increased penalties for those caught with products from 10 endangered species, and it seemed like a no-brainer yes vote, but in elections, you never count your protected species until the results are in.
As it turns out, I-1401 made history in two very good ways. First, it passed, making Washington the first state to institute such strong punishment for illegal wildlife trafficking. Second, by passing with more than 70 percent of the vote, it became the most popular initiative in Washington's history.
The victory sent a resounding message about the importance of protecting endangered wildlife. It also cleared the way for other states to follow in Washington's footsteps.
The passage of I-1401 reminds us that protecting the environment is a winning effort.
Let's put it to a vote: Who's in favor of extinction? Nobody? That's great, and the even better news is that Washingtonians get to vote on that for real this fall.
In Washington state, this November's ballot features Initiative 1401, which takes on the illegal wildlife trade that's currently driving species toward extinction. The initiative is important and deserves a yes vote.
I-1401 seeks to make the penalties for trafficking in animal parts so costly that poachers and smugglers will not want to risk being caught. It prohibits the sale, purchase, and distribution of products made from elephants, rhinos, lions, tigers, leopards, cheetahs, marine turtles, pangolins, sharks, and rays. The penalties would include up to five years in prison and a fine of up to $10,000. For more information, click here.
Because Washington has important shipping ports, the initiative can go a long way in combating the transportation of illegal wildlife products in the United States and the world. It's a smart move by the initiative backers to focus on Washington, and it's great that my home state can play such an important role in addressing extinction rates.
I hope Washingtonians will help stop extinction by voting for I-1401, and I hope that other states will pass similar laws soon.
In the face of a warming planet, we should all embrace our inner Daphne Blake from Scooby-Doo.
I'll explain later, but first, watch this video from Cracked:
To sum up the video, it argues that quartets from popular culture represent four enduring personality types. For example, Fred from Scooby Doo, like Leonardo from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, is a duty-bound leader. Scooby and Shaggy, representing two pieces of one personality, echo the recklessness and playfulness of the turtle Michelangelo. Meanwhile, Velma parallels her studious and practical reptilian counterpart, Donatello. Daphne, on the other hand, resembles the sensitive and rebellious Raphael.
Although the Cracked video sticks to connections in pop culture, we can extend the discussion to the seasons. The clothing worn by the Scooby-Doo characters supports this contention. Velma, wearing a heavy sweater, represents winter. Shaggy is clearly dressed for summer. Both Fred and Daphne choose clothes for various types of weather. Their clothing is lighter than Velma's, but both have scarves, suggesting they are ready for the chance of cooler temperatures. That means, they are spring and fall. Fred, with his light hair and brighter-colored clothes, is spring, and Daphne's rich, red hair and purple dress speak of fall.
The fact that Fred and Daphne represent spring and fall gains added support when examining the roles of the individual seasons. Summer and winter are about high-pressure weather systems with more stable patterns of heat and cold and stagnant air. Fall and spring are the forces that move the action in the weather game. In the universe of ninja turtles, Leonardo (Fred's counterpart) and Raphael (Daphne's) are also the ones who produce action. Leonardo does it through leadership, and Raphael makes it happen by questioning the direction of the group. Additionally, Leonardo's mask is blue and Raphael's is red, both primary colors--the strongest chromatic forces, and of course, Fred wears blue and Daphne is a redhead.
Daphne's role as fall supplies the connection to global warming. A warming planet is an environment more in line with the forces of summer and winter with their intractable systems, particularly summer because of the heat. What is more, a reckless approach to life similar to that connected with the goofy Scooby and Shaggy and the carelessness of summer has led us to produce global warming. Fall, meanwhile, is in danger because of global warming. As summer expands, the transition to winter shortens. According to her Wikipedia profile, the nickname "Danger-Prone Daphne" came about because in early Scooby-Doo episodes, Daphne was the damsel in distress. As the strength of global warming grows, we, like Daphne and fall, are in distress.
Still, we should look to Daphne for guidance in this scary time. Daphne's Wikipedia page also notes that as Scooby-Doo progressed and over its numerous incarnations, Daphne changed. These changes culminated in a karate-kicking portrayal by Sarah Michelle Gellar in the live-action films. While retaining her sensitivity and even vulnerability, Daphne became capable of taking care of herself. Consequently, we learned that she was danger prone not because she was a damsel in distress but because she ventured out and exhibited bravery when faced with scary situations (and as I wrote in my last post, when it comes to global warming, we should "walk unafraid"). Scooby and Shaggy, who supposedly represent a carefree lifestyle, are the ones who are constantly afraid.
We can't be Scooby or Shaggy or the summer they represent now. That's what got us here. The truth of the matter is that we, like Daphne, are fall, and we must own that and the precarious position it currently occupies. We must have the bravery to look directly at our situation, step outside of the path we know, and take the actions necessary to address global warming.
Daphne and the other pop culture figures who share her personality have already shown us the way.
The saying holds that people who keep their heads while everyone else loses theirs don't understand the situation. My experiences this summer taught me that the people who don't lose their heads might just understand the situation as fully as possible.
I spent the summer amid the sound of First Aid Kit, a Swedish folk band with a flair for Americana, and the fury of a Pacific Northwest burning in the face of global warming. We typically overcome the kind of sadness and fear associated with watching a beloved place shrivel up and incinerate by turning away from the most terrifying details. As much as I might have liked to do that at the beginning of the summer, by the end, I realized that this time (and from now on), I would, as First Aid Kit's song says, "Walk unafraid."
I bought the song, which comes from the soundtrack of Wild, along with the band's Stay Gold album in early May before I returned home for summer vacation. The music became the soundtrack of a summer that contained equal parts devastation and empowerment. I listened to very little else, but the songs never faded. They played in my head through adventures that filled my heart and events that broke it.
I saw Mount Rainier, Mount St. Helens, and Olympic National Park with lyrics like those from My Silver Lining echoing in the vastness of the extraordinary scenery. I watched the overwhelming heat of July bring a usually vibrant ecosystem to its knees and August's wildfires and their accompanying smoke finish the job with merciless suffocation. By that time, Fleeting One, the eighth track on Stay Gold seemed all too appropriate.
Still, I never turned away or tuned out. I took it all in. I reached a point where I knew and could feel everything that was happening. I could tell how close the land and plants were to breaking. Several times, I just had to cry. Then, a strange thing happened: Out of the chaos came the confidence of clarity. I'd played Walk Unafraid so many times in those three months, but suddenly, I was doing what the song said. I understood the situation fully, and I met it head on.
Trees had already started dying on my parents' property by August 2 when I turned on the sprinkler for the first time. We haven't watered our yard for years, but we still have a good sprinkler and some long hoses. During the next two weeks, I used them to get water to the native trees and plants on the property. At first, I wasn't sure if I was having any positive effect or merely tilting at windmills. I didn't even know how to feel when I read that Olympic National Park was also using sprinklers on its forests. Suddenly and unexpectedly though, the weather shifted in the slightest of ways. A bit of rain fell, and the temperatures cooled a little. Combined with my efforts, these changes helped the local plants revive. I felt the satisfaction of knowing a situation, responding to it, and making a contribution.
Although the last images I saw of the Pacific Northwest as I drove east for the school year were shrouded in smoke, I looked upon them without flinching. Those scenes would have torn me apart before. This time, they hurt, but I also knew nothing could break my connection to that place or my commitment to helping it as we face global warming together.
It's the same effect that occurs when music puts people in sync, and it's only possible when everything (joy, sadness, fear) is fully experienced.
The cat has my tongue, but it also has a safe place to live.
Eight years ago, my family adopted a rescue cat. It had gone through some traumatic experiences, so it didn't really like people. We tried everything to help it feel safe and allow it to adjust. Nothing worked. In fact, the more we tried to help, the more negatively the cat responded, and introducing anything new was an instant and total disaster.
Meanwhile, I had been talking with my parents about building a catio, which is an enclosed, outside area (often connected to the house) for cats. We'd had some issues with coyotes, and the cats were killing birds, lizards, snakes, and other wild animals. The rescue cat was one of the main concerns about having a catio though. He hated being inside, and about the only thing he seemed to enjoy was roaming around. Finally, my mom decided to build a catio (it wasn't actually connected to the house, so it was more like a kennel for cats).
When the catio reached completion, we all cringed to think about the rescue cat's reaction. We figured it would be a daily fight to keep him there, but he stunned us all. He loves it and feels safe there. For the first time, he doesn't run for cover when people are around. He's so comfortable there that even when the door of the catio is left open, he doesn't think about leaving. It's his special place.
The catio provides everything our cats need. It is sheltered, they get food and water, and it has wire runs for them to explore and use for exercise. Above all, they are safe, and having them there keeps the wildlife safe as well. We have seen so many more animals around the house, and it has been nice just to appreciate the beautiful birds instead of worrying about the cats killing them.
I can't say enough about the benefits of the catio, but when it comes to how it has helped our rescue cat, I am almost speechless.
We're told to think big. We have a lot of practice thinking about now. However, we need to work on thinking long--as in long-term. DamNation, a documentary about dams, shows us how and gives us a sense of what is possible when we do. Check out the trailer for the film below:
Many people who study communication or engage in communication as a profession are interested in effects. They want to know what effect a piece of communication has caused or will cause. Such an approach to communication yields a lot of great information, particularly about the now and the short-term. The problem is that it tends to miss some of the bigger, long-term picture. Environmental advocates often despair over a campaign not generating immediate results, yet failing to produce an immediate effect does not mean an act of communication cannot have an impact. That's because not all reactions are produced right away. Sometimes, communication is about opening up possibilities for the future.
Rhetoric provides an opportunity to probe beyond direct and immediate effects. As DamNation, which is presented by clothing manufacturer Patagonia, beautifully demonstrates, the apparent initial failure of some communication isn't the end of the story. Rhetorical symbols like cracks painted on dams were seen as radical, fringe ideas in the 1990s. However, that symbolic act created a foothold for an idea (removing dams) that is becoming more mainstream--to the point that people are embracing and putting their own stamp on the activist art. Now, it's the dams and their environmental impacts that are questioned.
DamNation also reminds us that environmental issues are big and require long-term thinking as well. We created dams to address immediate needs but failed to consider the larger repercussions. That failure led to major problems. Clearly, we can't address the environment only in the short-term, and we shouldn't look at communication that way either.
Thinking big got us dams. Thinking now makes us miss so much. And thinking long has major possibilities.
