Henaelh Coke, Dram hau, 12 DRAMATISM Kenneth Burke Dramatism is a method of analysis and a corresponding critique of ter- minology designed to show that the most direct route to the study of human. relations and human motives is via a methodical inquiry into cycles or clus- ters of terms and their functions. The dramatistic approach is implicit in the key term “act.” “Act” is thus a terministic center from which many related considerations can be shown to “ra- diate,” as though it were a “god-term” from which a whole universe of terms is derived. The dramatistic study of language comes to a focus in a philosophy of language (and of “symbolicity” in general); the latter provides the basis for a general conception of man and of human relations. The present article will con- sider primarily the dramatistic concern with the resources, limitations, and par- adoxes of terminology, particularly in connection with the imputing of motives. The Dramatistic Approach to Action Dramatism centers in observations of this sort: for there to be an act, there must be an agent. Similarly, thcre must be a scene in which the agent acts. To act in a scene, the agent must employ some means, or agency. And it can be called an act in the full sense of the term only if it involves a purpose (that is, if ‘a support happens to give way and one falls, such motion on the agent’s part is not an act, but an accident). These five terms (act, scene, agent, agency, pur- pose) have been labeled the dramatistic pentad; the aim of calling attention to From Intemational Encyclopedia of the Social Sciences, edited by David Sills (volume 7), The Mac: milan Company & The Free Press, 1968, pp. 445-452. Reprinted by permission of The Gale Group. 160Dramatism 161 them in this way is to show how the functions which they designate operate in the imputing of motives (Burke [1945-1950] 1962, Introduction). The pattern is incipiently a hexad when viewed in connection with the different but com- plementary analysis of attitude (as an ambiguous term for incipient action) un- dertaken by George Herbert Mead (1938) and by L A. Richards (1959). Later we shall consider the question whether the key terms of drama- tism are literal or metaphorical. In the meantime, other important things about the terms themselves should be noted. Obviously, for instance, the concept of scene can be widened or narrowed (conceived of in terms of varying “scope” or circumference). Thus, an agent’s behavior (“act”) might be thought of as taking place against a polytheistic background; or the over-all scene may be thought of as grounded in one god; or the circumference of the situation can be narrowed to naturalistic limits, as in Darwinism; or it can be localized in such terms as “Western civilization,” “Blizabethanism,” “capitalism,” “D day,” “10 Downing Street,” “on this train ride,” and so on, endlessly. Any change of the circumference in terms of which an act is viewed implies a corresponding change in one’s view of the quality of the act’s motivation. Such a loose yet compelling correspondence between act and scene is called a “scene-act ratio” (Burke [1945-1950] 1962, pp. 1-7). All the terms are capable of similar relationships. A “purpose—agency ra- tio,” for instance, would concern the logic of “means selecting,” the relation of means to ends (as the Supreme Court might decide that an emergency measure is constitutional because it was taken in an emergency situation). An “agent-act ratio” would reflect the correspondence between a man’s charac- ter and the character of his behavior (as, in a drama, the principles of formal consistency require that each member of the dramatis personae act in charac- ter, though such correspondences in art can have a perfection not often found in life). In actual practice, such ratios are used sometimes to explain an act and sometimes to justify it (ibid., pp. 15-20). Such correlations are not strict, but analogical. Thus, by “scenc-act ratio” is meant a proposition such as: Though agent and act are necessarily different in many of their attributes, some notable element of one is implicitly or analogously present in the other. David Hume’s An Inquiry Concerning Human Understanding (first pub- lished in 1748) throws a serviceable light upon the dramatistic “ratios.” His treatise begins with the observation that “moral philosophy, or the science of human nature, may be treated after two different manners.” One of these “considers man chiefly as born for action.” The other would “consider man in the light of a reasonable rather than an active being, and endeavor to form his understanding more than cultivate his manners” ([1748] 1952, p. 451). Here, in essence, is the distinction between a dramatistic approach in terms of ac- tion and an approach in terms of knowledge. For, as a “reasonable being,” Hume says, man “receives from science his proper food and nourishment. But man “is a sociable, no less than a reasonable being. ... Man is also an ac- tive being; and from that disposition, as well as from the various necessitics of human life, must submit to business and occupation” (ibid., p. 452).162 Kenneth Burke Insofar as men’s actions are to be interpreted in terms of the circum- stances in which they are acting, their behavior would fall under the heading of a “scene-act ratio.” But insofar as their acts reveal their different charac- ters, their behavior would fall under the heading of an “agent-act ratio.” For instance, in a time of great crisis, such as a shipwreck, the conduct of all per- sons involved in that crisis could be expected to manifest in some way the motivating influence of the erisis. Yet, within such a “scene—act ratio” there would be a range of “agent-act ratios,” insofar as one man was “proved” to be cowardly, another bold, another resourceful, and so on. Talcott Parsons, in one of his earlier works, has analytically unfolded, for sociological purposes, much the same set of terministic functions that is here being called dramatistic (owing to their nature as implied in the idea of an “aet”). Thus, in dealing with “the unit of action systems,” Parsons writes: ‘An “act” involves logically the following: (1) It implies an agent, an “actor.” (2) For purposes of definition the act must have an “end,” a future state of affairs toward which the process of action is oriented. (3) It must be initiated in a “situation” of which the trends of development differ in one or more important respects from the state of affairs to which the action is oriented, the end. This situation is in turn analyzable into two elements: those over which the actor has no control, that is which he cannot alter, or prevent from being altered, in conformity with his end, and those over which he has such control. The former may be termed the “conditions” of action, the latter the “means.” Finally (4) there is inherent in the conception of this unit, in its analytical uses, a certain mode of relationship between these elements. That is, in the choice of alternative means to the end, in so far as the situation allows alternatives, there is a “normative orientation” of actions. (1937, p. 44) Aristotle, from whom Aquinas got his definition of God as “pure act,” gives us much the same lineup when enumerating the circumstances about which we may be ignorant, with corresponding inability to act voluntarily: A man may be ignorant, then, of who he is, what he is doing, what or whom he is acting on, and sometimes also what (¢.g. what instrument) he is doing it with, and to what end (e.g. he may think his act will con- duce to some one’s safety), and how he is doing it (e.g. whether gently or violently). (Nichomackean Ethics 111125) This pattern became fixed in the medieval questions: quis (agent), quid (act), ubi (scene defined as place), quibus auxiliis (agency), cur (purpose), quo modo (manner, “attitude”), quando (scene defined temporally). The Nature of Symbolic Action Within the practically limitless range of scenes (or motivating situations) in terms of which human action can be defined and studied, there is one over-all dramatistic distinction as regards the widening or narrowing of circumference.Dramatism 163 This is the distinction between “action” and “sheer motion.” “Action,” is a term for the kind of behavior possible to a typically symbol-using animal (such as man) in contrast with the extrasymbolic or nonsymbolic operations of nature. ‘Whatever terministic paradoxes we may encounter en route (and the dramatistic view of terminology leads one to expect them on the grounds that language is primarily a species of action, or expression of attitudes, rather than an instrument of definition), there is the self-evident distinction between symbol and symbolized (in the sense that the word “tree” is categor- ically distinguishable from the dhing tee). Whatever may be the ultimate confusions that result from man’s intrinsic involvement with “symbolicity” as a necessary part of his nature, one can at least begin with this sufficiently clear distinction between a “thing” and its name. The distinction is generalized in dramatism as one between “sheer mo- tion” and “action.” It involves an empirical shift of circumference in the sense that although man’s ability to speak depends upon the existence of speechless nature, the existence of speechless nature does not depend upon man’s ability to speak. The relation between these two distinct terministic realms can be summed up in three propositions: (4) There can be no action without motion—that is, even the “symbolic action” of pure thought requires corresponding motions of the brain. (2) There can be motion without action. (For instance, the motions of the tides, of sunlight, of growth and decay.) (3) Action is not reducible to terms of motion. For instance, the “es- sence” or “meaning” of a sentence is not reducible to its sheer physical exist- ence as sounds in the air or marks on the page, although material motions of some sort are necessary for the production, transmission, and reception of the sentence. As has been said by Talcott Parsons: Certainly the situation of action includes parts of what is called in com- mon-sense terms the physical environment and the biological organism ... these elements of the situation of action are capable of analysis in terms of the physical and biological sciences, and the phenom- ena in question are subject to analysis in terms of the units im use in those sciences. Thus a bridge may, with perfect truth, be said to consist of atoms of iron, a small amount of carbon, etc., and their constituent elec- trons, protons, neutrons and the like. Must the student of action, then, become a physicist, chemist, biologist in order to understand his subject? In a sense this is true, but for purposes of the theory of action it is not necessary or desirable to carry such analyses as far as science in general is capable of doing. A limit is set by the frame of reference with which the student of action is working. That is, he is interested in phenomena with an aspect not reducible to action terms only in so far as they impinge on the schema of action in a relevant way—in the role of condi- tions or means. ... For the purposes of the theory of action the smallest conceivable concrete unit is the unit act, and while it is in turn analyzable into the elements to which reference has been made—end, means, con- ditions and guiding norms—further analysis of the phenomena of which164 Kenneth Burke these arc in turn aspects is relevant to the theory of action only in so far as the units arrived at can be referred to as constituting such clements of a unit act or a system of them. (1937, pp. 47-48) Is Dramatism Merely Metaphorical? Although such prototypically dramatistic usages as “all the world’s a stage” are clearly metaphors, the situation looks quite otherwise when ap- proached from another point of view. For instance, a physical scientist’s rela~ tion to the materials involved in the study of motion differs in quality from his relation to his colleagues. He would never think of “petitioning” the ob- jects of his experiment or “arguing with them,” as he would with persons whom he asks to collaborate with him or to judge the results of his experi- ment. Implicit in these two relations is the distinction between the sheer mo- tion of things and the actions of persons. In this sense, man is defined literally as an animal characterized by his special aptitude for “symbolic action,” which is itself a literal term. And from there on, drama is employed, not as a metaphor but as a fixed form that helps us discover what the implications of the terms “act” and “person” really are. Once we choose a generalized term for what people do, it is certainly as literal to say that “people act” as it is to say that they “but move like mere things.” Dramatism and the Social System Strictly speaking, then, dramatism is a theory of terminology. In this re- spect a nomenclature could be called dramatistic only if it were specifically designed to talk, at one remove, about the cycle of terms implicit in the idea of an act. But in a wider sense any study of human relations in terms of “ac- tion” could to that extent be called dramatistic. A major difficulty in delimit- ing the field of reference derives from the fact that common-sense vocabularies of motives are spontaneously personalistic, hence innately given to drama-laden terms. And the turn from the naive to the speculative is marked by such “action words” as tao, karma, dike, hodos, islam (to desig- nate a submissive attitude), all of which are clearly dramatistic when con- trasted with the terminological ideals proper to the natural sciences (Burke [1945-1950] 1962, p. 15). The dramatistic nature of the Bible is proclaimed in the verb (bara) of the opening sentence that designates God's creative act: and the series of fiats that follows identifies such action with the principle of symbolicity (“the Word”). Both Plato’s philosophy of the Good as ultimate motive and Aristotle’s potenti- ality-actuality pair would obviously belong here, as would the strategic accoun- tancy of active and passive in Spinoza’s Ethics (Burke [1945-1950] 1962, pp. 146-152). The modern sociological concern with “values” as motives does not differ in principle from Atistotle’s list of persuasive “topics” in his Rhetoric. One need not look very closely at Lucretius’ atomism to discern the personality in those willful particles. Contemporary theories of role-taking would obviouslyDramatism 165 fall within this looser usage, as indicated on its face by the term itself. Rhetorical studies of political exhortation mect the same test, as do typical news reports of people’s actions, predicaments, and expressions. Most historiography would be similarly classed, insofar as its modes of systematization and generalization can be called a scientifically documented species of storytelling, And humanistic criticism (of either ethical or aesthetic sorts) usually embodies, in the broad sense, a dramatistic attitude toward questions of personality. Shifts in the locus and scope of a terminology’s circumference allow for countless subdivisions, ranging from words like “transaction,” “exchange,” “competition,” and “coop- eration,” or the maneuvers studied in the obviously dramalike situations of game theories, down to the endless individual verbs designed to narrate specifi- cally what some one person did, or said, or thought at some one time. Thus Duncan (1962) has explicitly applied a dramatistic nomenclature to hierarchy and the sociology of comedy. Similarly, Goffman (1956) has characterized his study of “impression management” as “dramaturgical.” Does Dramatism Have a Scientific Use? If the dramatistic nature of terms for human motives is made obvious in Burke’s pentad (act, scene, agent, agency, purpose), is this element radically eliminated if we but introduce a synonym for each of those terms? Have we, for instance, effectively dodged the dramatistic “logic” if instead of “act” we say “response,” instead of “scene” we say “situation” or “stimulus,” instead of “agent” we say “subject” or “the specimen under observation in this case,” instead of “agency” we say “implementation,” and instead of “purpose” we use some term like “target”? Or to what extent has reduction wholly taken place when the dramatistic grammar of “active,” “passive,” and “reflexive” gets for its analogues, in the realm of sheer motion, “effectors,” “receptors” (output, input), and “feedback,” respectively? Might we have here but a truncated terminology of action, rather than a terminology intrinsically non- dramatistic? Such issues are not resolved by a dramatistic perspective; but they are systematically brought up for consideration. A dramatistic analysis of nomenclature can make clear the paradoxical ways in which even systematically generated “theories of action” can culmi- nate in kinds of observation best described by analogy with mechanistic models. The resultant of many disparate acts cannot itself be considered an act in the same purposive sense that characterizes each one of such acts (just as the movement of the stock market in its totality is not “personal” in the sense of the myriad decisions made by each of the variously minded traders). Thus, a systematic analysis of interactions among a society of agents whose individual acts variously reinforce and counter one another may best be car- ried out in terms of concepts of “equilibrium” and “disequilibrium” bor- rowed from the terminology of mechanics. In this regard it should also be noted that although equilibrium theories are usually interpreted as intrinsically adapted only to an upholding of the166 Kenneth Burke status quo, according to the dramatistic perspective this need not be the case. Awork such as Albert Mathiez’s The French Revolution (1922-1927) could be viewed as the expression of an anima naturaliter dramatistica in that it traces step by step an ironic development whereby a succession of uninten- tionally wrong moves led to unwanted results. If one viewed this whole disor- derly sequence as itself a species of order, then each of the stages in its advance could be interpreted as if “designed” to stabilize, in constantly changing circumstances, the underlying pattern of conditions favorable to the eventual outcome (namely, the kind of equilibrium that could be main- tained only by a series of progressive developments leading into, through, and beyond the Terror). Though a drama is a mode of symbolic action so designed that an audi- ence might be induced to “act symbolically” in sympathy with it, insofar as the drama serves this function it may be studied as a “perfect mechanism” composed of parts moving in mutual adjustment to one another like clock- work. The paradox is not unlike that which happened in metaphysics when a mystical view of the world as a manifestation of God's purposes prepared the way for mechanistic views, since the perfect representation of such a “de- sign” seemed to be a machine in perfect order. This brings up the further consideration that mechanical models might best be analyzed, not as downright antidramatistic, but as fragments of the dramatistic. For whatever humanist critics might say about the “dehumat ing” effects of the machine, it is a characteristically human invention, con- ceived by the perfecting of some human aptitudes and the elimination of others (thus in effect being not inhuman, but man’s powerful “caricature” of himself—a kind of mighty homunculus). Tf, on the other hand, it is held that a dramatistic nomenclature is to be avoided in any form as categorically inappropriate to a science of social rela- tions, then a systematic study of symbolic action could at least be of use in helping to reveal any hitherto undetected traces of dramatistic thinking that might still survive. For otherwise the old Adam of human symbolicity, whereby man still persists in thinking of himself as a personal agent capable of acting, may lurk in a symbol system undetected (a tendency revealed in the fact that the distinction between “action” and “sheer motion” so readily gets lost, as with a term like kinesis in Aristotle or the shift between the mecha- nistic connotations of “equilibrium” and the histrionic connotations of “equilibrist”). Similarly, since pragmatist terminologies lay great stress upon “agencies” (means) and since all machines have a kind of built-in purpose, any nomenclature conceived along the lines of pragmatist instrumentalism offers a halfway house between teleology and sheer aimless motion. At one point dramatism as a critique of terminology is necessarily at odds with dramatism as applied for specifically scientific purposes. This has been made clear in an article by Wrong (1961), who charges that although “modern sociology after all originated as a protest against the partial views of man contained in such doctrines as utilitarianism, classical economics, socialDramatism 167 Darwinism, and vulgar Marxism,” it risks contributing to “the creation of yet another reified abstraction in socialized man, the status-sceker of our con- temporary sociologists” (p. 190). He grants that “such an image of man is... valuable for limited purposes,” but only “so long as it is not taken for the whole truth” (p. 190). He offers various corrections, among them a stress upon “role-playing,” and upon “forces in man that are resistant to socializa- tion,” such as certain “biological” and “psychological” factors--even though some sociologists might promptly see “the specter of ‘biological determin- ism” (p. 191) and others might complain that already there is “too much ‘psychologism’ in contemporary sociology” (p. 192). Viewed from the standpoint of dramatism as a critique of terminology, Wrong’s article suggests two notable problems. Insofar as any science has a nomenclature especially adapted to its particular field of study, the extension of its special terms to provide a definition of man in general would necessarily oversociologize, overbiologize, overpsychologize, or overphysicize, etc., its subject; or the definition would have to be corrected by the addition of ele- ments from other specialized nomenclatures (thereby producing a kind of amalgam that would lie outside the strict methodic confines of any special- ized scientific discipline). A dramatistic view of this situation suggests that an over-all definition of man would be not strictly “scientific,” but phitosophical. Similarly, the dramatistic concept of a scenc~act ratio aims to admonish against an overly positivistic view of descriptive terms, or “empirical data,” as regards an account of the conditions that men are thought to confront at a given time in history. For insofar as such a grammatical function does figure in our thoughts about motives and purpose, in the choice and scope of the terms that are used for characterizing a given situation dramatism would dis- cern implicit corresponding attitudes and programs of action. If the principle of the scene—act ratio always figures in some form, it follows that one could not possibly select descriptive terms in which policies of some sort are not more or less clearly inherent. In the selection of terms for describing a scene, one automatically prescribes the range of acts that will seem reasonable, im- plicit, or necessary in that situation. Dramatistic Analyses of Order Following a lead from Bergson (1907, especially chapter 4), dramatism is devoted to a stress upon the all-importance of the negative as a specifically linguistic invention. But whereas Bergson’s fertile chapter on “the idea of nothing” centers in the propositional negative (“It is not”), the dramatistic emphasis focuses attention upon the “moralistic” or “hortatory” negative (“Thou shalt not”). Burke (1961, pp. 183-196) has applied this principle of negativity to a cycle of terms implicit in the idea of “order,” in keeping with the fact that “order,” being a polar term, implies a corresponding idea of “dis- order,” while these terms in turn involve ideas of “obedience” or “disobedi- ence” to the “authority” implicit in “order” (with further terministic168 Kenneth Burke radiations, such as the attitude of “humility” that leads to the act of obedience or the attitude of “pride” that leads to the act of disobedience, these in turn involving ideas of guidance or temptation, reward or punishment, and $0 on). On the side of order, or control, there are the variants of faith and rea- son (faith to the extent that one accepts a given command, proscription, or statement as authoritative; reason to the extent that one’s acceptance is con- tingent upon such proofs as are established by a methodic weighing of doubts and rebuttals). On the side of disorder there are the temptations of the senses and the imagination. The senses can function as temptations to the extent that the prescribed order does not wholly gratify our impulses (whether they are natural or a by-product of the very order that requires their control). Similarly, the imagination falls on the side of disorder insofar as it encourages interests inimical to the given order, though it is serviceable to order if used as a deterrent by picturing the risks of disorder—or, in other words, if it is kept “under the control of reason.” Midway between the two slopes of order and disorder (technically the realm where one can say yes or no to a thou-shalt-not) there is an area of in- determinacy often called the will, Ontologically, action is treated as a func- tion of the will, But logologically the situation is reversed: the idea of the will is viewed as derivable from the idea of an act. From ideas of the will there follow in turn ideas of grace, or an intrinsic ability to make proper choices (though such an aptitude can be impaired by var- ious factors), and sacrifice (insofar as any choices involve the “mortification” of some desires). The dramatistic perspective thus rounds out the pattern in accor- dance with the notion that insofar as a given order involves sacrifices of some sort, the sacrificial principle is intrinsic to the nature of order. Hence, since sub- stitution is a prime resource available to symbol systems, the sacrificial principle comes to ultimate fulfillment in vicarious sacrifice, which is variously rational- ized, and can be viewed accordingly as a way to some kind of ultimate rewards. By tracing and analyzing such terms, a dramatistic analysis shows how the negativistic principle of guilt implicit in the nature of order combines with the principles of thoroughness (or “perfection”) and substitution that are characteristic of symbol systems in such a way that the sacrificial princi- ple of victimage (the “scapegoat”) is intrinsic to human congregation. The intricate line of exposition might be summed up thus: If order, then guilt; if guilt, then need for redemption; but any such “payment” is victimage. Or: If action, then drama; if drama, then conflict; if conflict, then victimage. Adapting theology (“words about God”) to secular, empirical purposes (words about words”), dramatistic analysis stresses the perennial vitality of the scapegoat principle, explaining why it fits so disastrously well into the “logologic” of man’s symbolic resources. It aims to show why, just as the two primary and sometimes conflicting functions of religion (solace and contro!) worked together in the doctrines of Christianity, we should expect to find their analogues in any society, Dramatism. as so conceived, asks not how the sacrificial motives revealed in the institutions of magic and religion might beDramatism 169 eliminated in a scientific culture, but what new forms they take (Burke [1945-1950] 1962, pp. 406-408). This view of vicarious victimage extends the range of those manifesta- tions far beyond the areas ordinarily so labeled. Besides extreme instances like Hitlerite genocide, or the symbolic “cleansings” sought in wars, upris- ings, and heated political campaigns, victimage would include psychogenic illness, social exclusiveness (the malaise of the “hierarchal psychosis”), “beatnik” art, rabid partisanship in sports, the excessive pollution of air and streams, the “bulldozer mentality” that rips into natural conditions without qualms, the many enterprises that keep men busy destroying in the name of progress or profit the ecological balance on which, in the last analysis, our eventual well-being depends, and so on. The strongly terministic, or logological, emphasis of dramatism would view the scapegoat principle not primarily as a survival from earlier eras, but as a device natural to language here and now. Aristotle, in the third book of his Rhetoric (chapter 10), particularly stresses the stylistic impor- tance of antithesis as a means of persuasion (as when a policy is recom- mended in terms of what it is against). In this spirit dramatism would look upon the scapegoat (or the principle of vicarious victimage) as but a special case of antithesis, combined with another major resource of symbol systems, namely, substitution. In the polemics of politics, the use of the scapegoat to establish identifi- cation in terms of an enemy shared in common is also said to have the nota- ble rhetorical advantage that the candidate who presents himself as a spokesman for “us” can prod his audience to consider local ills primarily in terms of alien figures viewed as the outstanding causes of those ills. In ac- cord with this emphasis, when analyzing the rhetorical tactics of Mein Kampf, Burke (1922-1961) lays particular stress upon Hitler’s use of such deflec- tions to provide a “noneconomic interpretation of economic ills.” While recognizing the amenities of property and holding that “mine-ownness” or “our-ownness” in some form or other is an inevitable as- pect of human congregation, dramatistic analysis also contends that property in any form sets the conditions for conflict (and hence culminates in some sort of victimage). It is pointed out that the recent great advances in the de- velopment of technological power require a corresponding extension in the realm of negativity (the “thou-shalt-nots” of control). Thus, the strikingly “positive” nature of such resources (as described in terms of “sheer motion”) is viewed dramatistically as deceptive; for they may seem too simply like “promises,” whereas in being powers they are properties, and all properties are problems, since powers are bones of contention (Burke 1960). A dramatistic view of human motives thus culminates in the ironic ad- monition that perversions of the sacrificial principle (purgation by scape- goat, congregation by segregation) are the constant temptation of human societies, whose orders are built by a kind of animal exceptionally adept in the ways of symbolic action (Burke [1941] 1957, pp. 87-113).170 Kenneth Burke Bibliography Benae, Kenneth D. 1964 From Polarization to Paradox. Pages 216~247 in Leland P. Bradford, Jack R. Gibb, and Kenneth D. Benne (editors), T-Group Theory and Laboratory Method: Innovation in Re-education, New York: Wiley. Bergson, Henri (1907) 1944 Creative Evolution. New York: Modern Library. First published in French. Burke, Kenneth (1922-1961) 1964 Perspectives by Incongruity and Terms for Order Edited by Stanley Edgar Hyman. Bloomington: Indiana Univ. Press. Two repre- sentative collections of readings from Burke’s works. Each collection is also available separately in paperback from the same publisher. Burke, Kenneth (1937) 1959 Auiudes Toward History, 2d ed., rey. Los Altos, CA: Hermes. Burke, Kenneth (1941) 1957 The Philosophy of Literary Form: Studies in Symbolic Action. Rev. ed., abridged by the author. New York: Vintage. The Louisiana State University Press reprinted the unabridged edition in 1967. Burke, Kenneth (1945-1950) 1962 4,Grammar of Motives and A Rhetoric of Motives. Cleveland: World. Burke, Kenneth 1955 Linguistic Approach to Problems of Education. Pages 259-303 in National Society for the Study of Edueation, Committee on Modern Philoso- phies and Education, Modern Philosophies and Education, Edited by Nelson B. Henry. National Society for the Study of Education Yearbook 54, Part 1. Univ. of Chicago Press. Burke, Kenneth 1960 Motion, Action, Words. Teachers College Record 62:244-249. Burke, Kenneth 1961 The Rhetoric of Religion: Studies in Logology. Boston: Beacon. Burke, Kenneth 1966 Language as Symbolic Action: Essays on Life, Literature, and Method. Berkeley: Univ. of California Press. Duncan, Hugh D. 1962 Communication and Social Order. Totowa, NJ; Bedminster Press. Goffman, Erving (1956) 1959 The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life. Garden City, NY: Doubleday. Hume, David (1748) 1952 An Inquiry Concerning Human Understanding. Pages 451-509 in Great Books of the Western World. Volume 35: Locke, Berkeley, Hume. Chicago: Benton. Mathiez, Albert (1922-1927) 1962 The French Revolution. New York: Russell. First Published in French in three volumes. A paperback edition was published in 1964 by Grosset and Dunlap. Mead, George Herbert 1938 The Philosophy of the Act. Univ. of Chicago Press. Con- sists almost entirely of unpublished papers which Mead left at his death in 1931. Parsons, Talcott 1937 The Structure of Social Action: A Study in Social Theory With Spe- cial Reference to a Group of Recent European Writers. New York: McGraw-Hill. Richards, Ivor A. (1959) 1961 Principles of Literary Criticism. New York: Harcourt. Rueckert, William H. 1963 Kenneth Burke and the Drama of Human Relations. Min- neapolis: Univ. of Minnesota Press. Wrong, Dennis H. 1961 The Oversocialized Conception of Man in Modern Sociol- ogy. American Sociological Review 26:183-193.