Genre and Rhetorical Craft

Jeanne Fahnestock
University of Maryland

After arguing against the explicit teaching of genre as part of writing

instruction,Aviva Freedman(1993)cracksopen the possibility that some
explicit teachingin very controlledcircumstancesmight be helpful. Then
in her conclusion she declares the issue unresolved and invites researchers to provide evidence for the value of explicit instruction in
genre. Before composition researchersaccept or answer this challenge,
they have some ground-clearing questions to ask, among them how
"genre,"and thereforethe explicit teaching of genre, should be defined,
and what role genre instructionhas had in the historyof teachingwriting.
And because Freedman'sarticle is in many ways an argument against
any explicit teaching of techne in the writing classroom,they might also
ask how a craft,as opposed to a body of knowledge, is learned.These are
bracingbasic questions, and the following brief response to Freedman's
articleattempts to address them.
How Is Genre To Be Defined?
Compositionresearcherswho want to know if teaching genre is worth it
will first have to put in place some kind of working definition of "genre,"
or at least some agreementabout how a genre can be characterized.The
term "genre"seems to have several possible meanings in Freedman's
article, and clearly,unless we know what we mean by genre, or what
counts as the descriptionof a genre, it is difficultto know whether we are
explicitly teaching a genre. At some points, Freedmanseems to have a
very elaboratedefinition of genre in mind. When she suggests that genre
is unteachable,for example, it is because we have no adequate descriptions of genres in all their complexity (pp. 232-233).Even the rules we do
have, she claims, are too complex and too numerous. But what level of
specificity is requiredin the descriptionof genre for teaching purposes?
Would it have to include all the details of language productionin all the
possible sentences? Include all, even if these patterns occur in other
genres? If we declare that the adequate description of a genre means a
hierarchically-orderedset of several hundred rules, like a computerprogram with embedded subroutines, we could certainly declare explicit
teaching of any genre impossible.
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At other points, however,Freedmanuses a very broadnotion of genre;

she refers to all narrativeas a single genre, described with varying degrees of adequacy by story grammarsthat sketch in broad plot movements at a high level of generality.While the term "genre"is certainly
conventionally applied to very broad categories including "narrative,"
"academicwriting,"or "argument,"such labels are perhapsmore useful
to theorists or to systematizers than to teachers.These "phyla"sit well
above the level of species at which writersand readerssay to themselves,
"I am writing one of these," or "I am reading one of those." At too
abstracta level of description, genre distinctions could be as useless to
teach as they are impossible to teach at too precise a level of description.
In still other places in the article, genres are apparently defined by
their subjectmatter or by the setting of the writers;for example, Freedman claims that "... for a class of students who are all involved in
writing sociology papers, there may be some merit in discussing some of
the features of that genre"(p. 244, [italics added]). Do all the papers
students write in a sociology class, or in the law class Freedmanobserved,
belong to the same genre because they were written in the same setting
and concernedthe same discipline?An exclusive emphasis on contextual
definitions of genres could lead to the untenable position that all similar
contexts determine similar genres. It leads Freedman,in the Restricted
Hypothesis, to the position that one can only practicecertaingenres close
to or in their typical contexts.
The reciprocalview- that a writer or speaker's choice of genre can
also, to a certainextent, createa context- is acknowledged in the article's
third paragraph (genres "are shaped by, and in turn shape their contexts")but is then dropped.Toillustratethis reversal,considerthe following example: A dean who addresses a faculty meeting by listing
predeterminedprogram cuts in response to a budget crisis creates one
kind of situation;a dean who faces the same group by outlining the fiscal
problems and then throwing open the meeting for recommendations
createsanotherkind of situation;a dean who sketchesin the problemand
then argues for a particularcourse of action, refuting other possibilities,
createsstill another kind of situation. By choice of genre, of a form with
which to accomplisha result- giving instructions,runninga brainstorming session, or arguing deliberativelyfor a particularcourse of actionthe dean has created three different situations. The ability of genre to
shape contextis, then, an importantpoint, one that rescues form from the
determining power of context and one that can eventually lead to a
defense of the "decontextualized"teaching of genre. If the context does
not dictate the genre, it has to be learned somewhere else.
BecauseFreedmancredits Miller's (1984)article, "Genreas Social Action,"with characterizinggenres as responses to recurrentsituations (the

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"recurrent"gets forgotten, too), it is worthwhile to look again at how

Miller defines genre. At no point does Miller eliminate formal features
fromthe requirementsfor characterizinga genre.Instead,formalfeatures
are always in play along with two other determinants,substance and
context. This triad appears again and again in her article, and though
descriptionsof genre may differ in which of the three receives the most
emphasis (and Miller clearly wants context as recurringsituation to receive its due), all three must always be kept in play.
Furthermore,in Miller'shierarchyof meaning,genre comes fairlyhigh
up on the chain, "at the level of complete discourse types based on
recurrentsituations" but not at the highest level where theorists talk
about "formsof life" or cultural patterns (pp. 161-162). The formal features invoked in genre description thereforealso come, as Miller points
out, at a fairly high level but not the highest level of generality:"Genreis
distinctfrom form:Formis the more general term used at all levels of the
hierarchy.Genre is form at one particularlevel that is a fusion of lowerlevel forms and characteristicsubstance" (p. 163). We may, in other
words, specify features like special topics, opening moves, typical sections, or arrangementstrategies, but not specify every word choice or
sentence type.
Millerclearlyfavors an open set of what she calls defactogenres;if we
have a naturalor spontaneous name for a type of discourse- an inaugural address, a white paper,a set of instructions- it is potentially a genre.
More to Miller's point, these de facto genres, fusions of form and substance, representconventionalizedor ritualized social action. To be able
to create discourse that will count as a certainkind of action, one has to
be able to producea text with the featuresthat distinguish it as belonging
to a certaingenre. One has to know the form to be able to perform.
The Role of Genre in the History of Rhetoric
In looking for evidence on whether or not to teach genre, researchers
might recall the role that the explicit teaching of genre in rhetorical
education has had for more than two thousand years. Indeed, from the
perspective of the history of rhetoric,it is incomprehensibleto say that
the explicit teaching of genre has no place in the teaching of writing,
especially in the teaching of the compositionaland argumentativeskills
we now associate with the undergraduatewriting classroom.To Freedman's questionsabout whether the explicit teachingof genre is necessary,
possible, or useful, the practiceof centuries would answer "yes,""yes,"
and "yes."
In classical rhetoric,genres are not described in a way that specifies
every sentence-levelfeature,nor in a way that dictatessubjectmatter,nor

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in a way that suggests the determining role of immediate context. Instead, genres are described by what they try to accomplish (the "social
action" that Miller reminded us of) and by the strategies that typically
support that goal. In its first and most famous division, classicalrhetoric
identifiesthreebroadgenres:forensicor courtroomargumentsover "past
facts;"epideictic arguments concerningpraise and blame; and deliberative arguments debating future action. Each of these types has its own
goal and its own special topics, and orators-in-traininglearnedboth what
was unique to each kind and what was common to all.
The earliest complete rhetoricalmanual, the first century B.C.E.,Rhetoricaad Herennium(1981),specifies the parts of the full oration defined
by its large-scale features of arrangement:introduction, statement of
facts, division, proof, refutation,and conclusion. (I, iii. 4, p. 9). Each of
these divisions carriedits own set of strategies to be drawn upon given
the particularitiesof the situation. For example, in the introductionto a
courtroomdefense, speakers were recommendedto choose a direct or a
subtle opening, each of these choices branchinginto furtheroptions (I, vi,
10, p. 19). In arguing for the defense, the forensic orator could chose
"shiftingthe question of guilt" and argue that the defendant's act was
caused by the crimes of others (I, xv, 25, p. 47). To learn a genre, in other
words, was to learn its options; it was not to learn a fixed algorithm.
The fourth book of the Ad Herennium(devoted to style) gives us a
glimpse of the formalisms that were taught below the level of genre
distinctions.Schemes and tropes, for example, or figures of thought, are
devices at the level of paragraphsand sentences,useful acrossgenres.So,
for instance,paralepsis(mentioningsomethingby denying you will mention it) or prosopopoeia (creatingspeaking agents of the dead, or absent,
or even of inanimatethings) could appear in speeches of any type.
By the first century C.E., rhetoricaleducation had evolved a set of
hierarchically-orderedwritten exercises,each practicinga distinct genre.
The earlierexerciseswere meant to isolate and practicethe compositional
skills that were later combined into a full performance.Quintilian describes these standard rhetorical exercises in Book II of his Institutio
Oratoria,and we have other treatisessurviving from the first centuriesof
the Christianera that also detail these standardcompositionalexercises,
the Progymnasmata
(Matsen, Rollinson, & Sousa, 1990). These written
exercises were in use until the nineteenth century,and they offer us a
sample of what it means to teach writing by teaching genre. So, for
instance, one of the exercises asked students to write an encomiumof a
person, an argumentthat praises.Studentspracticingthis kind of composition were taught to follow certain"heads,"or subdivisions, firstproviding the backgroundof the person, (parents,upbringing,habits)and then
recountingthe person's deeds (p. 276). An earlier exercise, teaching the

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genre of the verbalchreia,asked students to take a saying and interpretit,

expand on it, elaborateit under the following heads: praise the author,
paraphrasethe statement, explain the causes of its justness or aptness,
contrastit with the opposite view, compare it, give an example of it and
supporting testimony from other authors, and conclude with a brief
epilogue (p. 268-269). The student of rhetoricwho followed these heads
to producewhat was essentiallya "schoolgenre"would be practicingthe
topics for constructingarguments in other settings. (If the chreia seems
too artificial,a bizarreartifactfrom antiquity,look at the compositiontest
on the MCATwhich asks for the writer's expansion of a portentous
quotation.)
As the sequence of exercises progressed,they came closer to approximating the genres of civic life, and they were usually declaimed, as well
as written,so that teacherscould critiquetheirstudents'delivery.Takefor
example one of the last of the progymnasmaticexercises,the deliberative
thesis,in which one argued for a proposition,theoreticalor practical,such
as whether marriagewas wise. (Wehave remnantsof this exercise from
St. Paul to Milton.)Students who practicedthis genre constructedarguments under the heads "legality, justice, expediency, practicability"
(p. 283). They practiced,in other words, the teleological and deontological appeals that are the sources of all arguments that seek to justify
courses of action. When life presented them with real situations, they
were prepared.
What It Means To Teach a Craft

Unlike the writers of the rhetoricalhandbookswho taught formalismsat

many levels explicitly,Freedmanbelieves that genre distinctions can be
learnedintuitively,primarilyfrom context,in the mannerthat much firstand second-language learning presumably occurs. One of Freedman's
supportingpoints is a comparisonof the teachingof writing to the teaching of a craft. That is my own favorite analogy, but I take exception to
Freedman'sassertion that any craft is ever taught without a conscious
awareness of technique (p. 236). Freedman seems to imagine a silent
blacksmith who passes on tactile knowledge to a watching apprentice
without ever verbalizing a rationale for what is going on; nothing conscious need even occur in either head, master or pupil. A better illustration of the craftanalogy might be the trainingof an auto mechanic,or of
a surgeon, or of a chef. In each of these cases (and really in the case of the
blacksmith, too) there is tactile knowledge, yes, but there is also an
overwhelmingbody of transmittedverbalexplanationand system. There
is no craftor "art"without an explicationof its principlesso that they can
be applied across situations.

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The "intuition"that presumably suddenly appears in college-level

writers,like those in the law class Freedmanobserved,is instead likely to
be the product of much earlier tuition. Students are not going to recognize regularitiesin texts (and genres are only definableby regularities)if
they do not expect regularitiesor do not know what counts as a significant regularity worthy of imitation. Similarly,it is unlikely that adult
writers, suddenly on the job, can produce successful versions of the
specific genres they are called on to produce if they have had no earlier
practicewith the building blocks of such genres.
To emphasize the need for explicit instruction, we can look at the
kind of writing that gives students the most trouble. Much research,as
Freedmanreports (p. 238), suggests that students have the greatestdifficulty writing arguments of various kinds, perhaps because they have
had little exposure to reasoned prose. Much explicit instruction, far
beyond the "writingprocess,"has been aimed at this problem,especially
in second level or advanced courses. Many of the strategies taught are
revivals of featuresin the classicalrhetoricalcurriculum:the enthymeme,
the epicheireme revived in the Toulmin model, the stases, and the
common topics. These are all formal structures,at or below the level of
genre differences,and common across genre differences. It is true that
testing of these methods for their efficacy is wanting, but it would be
difficult to isolate these concepts from the setting in which they are
taught, a setting that always includes the analysis of models, "pushed
output,"and the close mentoringof students- in short, all the devices of
good pedagogy that Freedmanapplauds. To test the efficacy of instruction in techne versus no instructionin techne, we would need a class of
wolf children.
Actually this very issue, art versus no art, trainingversus no training,
was a perennial controversy in classical rhetoric.In Book I of Cicero's
dialogue, De Oratore(1970),the participantsdebate whether naturaleloquence can outdo trained eloquence (see especially pp. 29-34), for it had
to be acknowledged that an inspired novice could sometimes defeat the
trainedprofessional.One answer to this challenge was to say that yes, on
occasion, the untrained rhetor could defeat the trained. But on average,
over many cases, the speaker trained and practiced in rhetoric would
outperformthe untrained.The relevant test of explicit training may not
come, then, from one set occasion or performancebut from relative success over many differentoccasions.A pre- and post-test in a single course
will not get at the general competence needed across situations that a
trainingin rhetoricwas meant to secure.

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References
Aphthonius.(1990).Progymnasmata.In P.Matsen,P.Rollinson,& M. Sousa (Eds.
and Trans.), Readingsfrom classicalrhetoric(pp. 267-288). Carbondale, IL:
SouthernIllinois University Press.
Cicero. (1970). De oratore.In J.S.Watson(Trans.),Cicero:On oratoryand orators
(pp. 5-261). Carbondale,IL:SouthernIllinois UniversityPress.
[Cicero.](1981). Rhetoncaad herennium(De rationedicendi).(H. Caplan, Trans.).
Cambridge,MA:HarvardUniversity Press (LoebClassic).
Freedman,A. (1993).Show and tell? The role of explicit teaching in the learning
of new genres. Researchin theTeaching
of English,27, 222-251.
Miller,C. (1984).Genreas social action. QuarterlyJournalof Speech,70, 151-167.
Quintilian.(1980).Institutiooratoria(Vol.I: H. E. Butler,Trans.).Cambridge,MA:
HarvardUniversityPress (LoebClassic).