While critical pedagogy is touted as a liberatory rhetoric of empowerment, my contention is that the notion of “critical” radicalization of pedagogy is not radical at all. Instead, critical pedagogy reflects potential insidious inscriptions that although promotes empowerment, in application, it endorses a hidden curriculum that reinforces the status quo it seeks to interrogate. In part, this paper responds to Cathy Glenn’s article, “Critical Rhetoric and Pedagogy” (Radical Pedagogy, 2002) and examines its paradoxes through critical analysis of Dr. Michelle Wolf’s radical pedagogy, and to conclude that Glenn’s application seems to oppress opportunity for what is to be taken as genuinely radical, or critical-reflective thought.
As universities and colleges endeavor to prepare their graduates for a complex contemporary world, the question arises of what can be done to foster students’ ability to engage in critically reflective analysis of their worlds. One approach is to present and discuss issues that are meaningful to our students’ lives – those that make connections to problems facing the opening of the 21st century. Yet, while the times may be new, the issues are not. Seeking to address urgent social problems rooted in race and gender inequality and cultural conflict, radical pedagogy has an ambitious aim in enlightening students to recognize the silence of oppression and to reinforce empowerment of individual voices as a salutary promise for a radically revisioned social construct.
Cathy Glenn, in her discussion of Dr. Michelle Wolf’s radical pedagogical practices (Radical Pedagogy, 2002), endorses such promise-in-action, delivered by means of what Linda Keesing-Styles has called the need to use liberating and modern teaching applications in critical pedagogy (2003). Wolf’s project is daunting. Disavowing the traditional notion that critical discourse ideally occurs within a relatively small group of “. priori focus on student-centered dialogue” (Glenn, 2002, p. 2), Wolf’s lecture class of 100 students sought to raise students’ critical consciousness through a radical examination of cultural media constructs. While it is tantalizing for a critical pedagogue to envision opportunity for critically reflective thought in a large-lecture environment, what leaves a question mark over Wolf’s pedagogy of empowerment is that it too easily exemplifies a hidden curriculum, one that reflects the rhetoric of a world according to Wolf.
Perhaps one of the most succinct descriptions of the ways in which the hidden curriculum operates as an agent of oppression is from Michael Apple, who claims it is based on “a network of assumptions that, when internalized by students, establishes the boundaries of legitimacy … since at no time are the assumptions articulated or questioned” (1975, p. 99; see also Pinar, Reynolds, Slattery & Taubman, 1996).
Within this context, notions of empowerment become, to borrow Roger Simon’s term, “woefully insufficient” (1987, p. 374). Protected by its alluring promise of liberation, empowerment is trapped within its own ideological framework where the only question that is begging is empowerment on whose terms? We might concede Simon’s pedagogy of possibility to its critique of current realities, and embrace comparisons of social contradictions as a good place to begin conversations. As Simon asserts, rarely do practitioners extend such contradictions further than acknowledging that they exist. Critically reflective, radical pedagogy needs to break this boundary if we are to move beyond the strictures of whatever sociopolitical agenda is offered as a masquerade for enlightened understanding. Clearly, tangled in the web of a hidden curriculum, it is not difficult to see where empowerment has gone terribly wrong, especially if we consider what might be called a standardized definition of empowerment:
Its referent is the identification of oppressive and unjust relations …. To empower in this perspective is to counter the power of some people or groups to make others “mute.” To empower is to enable those who have been silenced to speak. It is to enable the self-affirming expression of experiences mediated by one’s history, language, and tradition. (Simon, 1987, p. 374)
Examination of Wolf’s radical pedagogy neatly reflects the discursive premises contained in such a definition, and yet this is precisely the problem. As Simon urges, in seeking to modify and problematize notions of empowerment, radical teachers need to tie their pedagogy intrinsically to “the goal of educating students to take risks, to struggle with ongoing relations of power, to critically appropriate forms of knowledge that exist outside of their immediate experience, and to envisage versions of a world which is ‘not yet’” (1987, p. 375). What’s wrong with the world of Wolf is that it is one mired in a “cultural logic that anchors subjectivity” (p. 377), a “logic” that is subjective, personalized, and impenetrable – an a priori legitimization of itself, by itself - that far too easily makes it possible for us to justify our personal truths as collective social realities.
Endorsement through discourse of our beliefs, however, is not critically reflective thinking, but validation of our own existence – selfish, indulgent reification of our selves as centers of an egocentric universe of our own design. Rather, it is by seeking to transcend or exceed the limitations of our own truths as inherent in possible collective social realities, and in a process of critical self-reflection that we can begin to confront the often painful possibilities resulting from analysis of the “taken-for-granted ways of thinking which justify war, racism, and indifference to human suffering” (Simon, 1987, p. 377). The question for critical pedagogues, therefore, becomes not so much one of revealing the injustices or oppressions in the world – as if students are nothing more than unenlightened members of the masses who simply need to be told false truths – but to interrogate existing truths to consider them in alternative ways we may never before have thought possible. This seems to me a call for conscious envisioning of current social realities for a more radical one. In Simon’s view, for example, such interrogation for better and alternative systems requires “a serious dialogue (perhaps even a struggle) over assigned meaning, over the interpretation of experience, and possible versions of ‘self’” (p. 379).
While Wolf’s commitment to presenting the ways in which “systems of power and domination are discursively constructed and maintained” (Glenn, 2002, p. 3) and to “construct counter-discourses that might interrupt and, potentially, transform oppressive constructs” (p. 3) is laudable, the execution of its delivery falls short of its target. For Wolf, those who author such constructs of power are set in a simplistic binary opposition of Us versus Them, and a justification of the good versus the bad far too closely resembles a manipulation of ideology to constitute it as a radical, critical pedagogy. In Wolf’s classroom, her own ideology is valorized as the privileged social discourse, but for practitioners committed to a pedagogy of praxis and possibility, we must concern ourselves with the discourse of our students once the lecture is over, particularly in relation to those who see resistance and critique as a game to be mastered in order to “earn a different kind of academic approval” (Hardin, 2001, p. 54-55), or those who, through acculturation to issues of gender, race, and class inequality, see its examination as extraneous and (ir)rational sanctioning of what they already believe, or – more concerning – those who are “silently collaborating in the production of the desired public transcript and then sneaking back home where they are free to … forget them altogether” (Miller, 1998, p. 19).
There is no doubt that students can be taught to examine words for political meaning and to criticize the values that lie beneath the text, yet the risk is real that students are trained to produce a reasoned critique that is neither individually transformative (Graff, 1990; Seitz, 1993; Horner, 2000) nor that brings change in student practices or aspirations (Janks, 2002). As Nicholas Burbules argues, this approach in the classroom, “…leaves dominant beliefs and values largely unquestioned – indeed, even insulated from challenge and change – because they are shielded within the comforting self-conception of openness and inclusivity” (2000, p. 258).
From such a position, it is difficult to expect students to take seriously our platitudes of empowerment and critical thought (Sweet & Swanson, 2000), in turn leading to an unsettling undercurrent of incongruity for a pedagogy describing itself as radical and liberating. Teaching students about difference does not translate into confidence, skill, or desire to put that knowledge into practice. Reaching the point of a willingness to change, or what Foucault describes as the moment we are unable to think the way we usually do, instead involves a commitment to move beyond who and what we know, and be willing to see ourselves “…in the unflattering light of another’s angry gaze” (Delpit, 1995, 46-47).
What Wolf’s students appear to encounter is not a critical self-reflection of themselves, but only Wolf’s angry gaze at the world. The “provocative media choices” – graphical representations of sexual deviance and violence – “and analysis of them [as they] constitute her [Wolf’s] perspective via her cultural criticism” (Glenn, 2002: p. 5), (with italics added) is a telling statement. For instance, not only is it likely that most of the students did not recognize themselves in such graphic portrayals – and here we see the binary Us versus Them in action – any critical deliberation is pre-packaged and delivered through the ideological conduit of the practitioner for passive and wholesale consumption. To extend this point, consider the following from Wolf, as outlined by Glenn:
Dr. Wolf takes a [sic] some time to relate her own experiences with body image development. She shares an abbreviated, but emotional narrative of several early life experiences; the first involved an incident of her own painful experience with facial disfigurement as the result of being hit in the face with a baseball bat. The story includes aspects of both her physical and psychological devastation and the sometimes-cruel reactions of her grade-school peers. She goes on to talk about her battles with an eating disorder and the negative self-perception of her own body image as it relates to media representations of the “model” body type and her childhood experiences. The students seem mesmerized; there is not a single student in the room who does not seem completely engaged with Dr. Wolf as she tells these stories.(p. 7) (i.e., with strong emphasis here).
If we reflect for a moment on the ideological loading of the emphasized words, then there seems to us an uncomfortable focus on empathy for the protagonist, and the need to draw artificial boundaries of comparisons with similar experiences, thereby neatly constructing a self-justifiable system of referents. Probably unintentionally, Glenn accedes that the strategy works; after all, there is not a single student who is not “mesmerized” or “completely engaged” (p. 7).
The rhetoric from Glenn in other places, however, sounds good. Reminiscent of Foucault’s admonition to no longer accept what goes without saying, yet citing McKerrow, Glenn advocates the need for students to “examine the taken-for-granted that may preclude their own critical reflection on and evaluation of those beliefs or (in)action” (p. 4), and yet the explanation that “a teacher need not prescribe what students should believe or do” (p. 4) is an exercise in futility as far as Wolf’s radical pedagogy in action is concerned. Even if we were to accept that Wolf’s rhetorical delivery is able to “make connections between seemingly unrelated media images/messages and the power/knowledge constructs embedded [in them]” (p. 6), it is untenable to assert that this in itself is an act of critical reflection on her students’ part. Instead, it is the presentation of a single perspective, one that maintains the simplistic binary, or opposition of the acceptable versus the unacceptable, reflecting what Burbules condemns as “the hegemony of reasonableness” (2000, p. 256) and suggesting that “we fully welcome your participation on these terms” (p. 257). The only element of empowerment in such a scenario is endorsement of what is “right,” and any argument from individuals that deviates from this rationality becomes inherently ir rational, with these individuals risking subjection to immediate dismissal, derision and ostracism (Ellsworth, 1994; 1997; Anderson, 1997; Horn, 2000).
While Glenn expounds the critical, pedagogical, and sociological benefit of Wolf’s “explicit capitalist critiques, her anti-censorship stance, and her feminist analysis of mediated body images [that] trigger in her students responses that begin (or continue) the processes of critical consciousness development” (p. 6), one might be forgiven for wondering where the anti-feminist, the pro-capitalist, pro-censorship – or a combination – receives a voice, even for the sake of expressing an alternative view? The attributes here belong to the constructed world of Dr. Wolf, and promotion of that singular worldview is no better than espousing a rhetoric of imperialism.
Although Glenn claims that Wolf’s students are given the opportunity to critique their mentor, “generally in the form of written feedback” (p. 6) we are quickly reassured that “students seem to catch her [Wolf’s] critical rhythm …. [and] consider options for changing what might be viewed as damaging or oppressive mediated messages” (p. 6). The argument here is confusing, if not misleading, because we are left to wonder that if the students are indeed catching Wolf’s rhythm, then what opportunity is there for a different beat? Or, are the students becoming adept at reflecting the sociopolitical agenda of their instructor rather than questioning, or even acknowledging, the existence of their own? Considering the latter point, what is being practiced seems to better fit what McLaren defines as a “discourse-given sentience,” a practice that “completes its work by disguising its own activity” (1988, p. 172).
In light of such practice, consider Glenn’s reflection on the “sense of intimacy” vouchsafed by Wolf’s relating of personal narrative to reveal “aspects of her own life experience with which nearly all students can relate: feelings of insecurity, marginalization, negative self-concept, and personal pain” (p. 8). We can accept that such emotions are part of the human condition. However, it is the relativity of such feelings that make this reader uncomfortable. Insecurity, marginalization, negative self-concept and personal pain – relationally speaking – could apply equally to the corporate executive who is facing payment to the IRS of $100 million for questionable corporate dealings to the “third-world” orphan who has lost both parents due to ideological mantras of a capitalistic contingency plan. Is there something missing? (p. 7)
Clearly, we cannot disagree with Glenn when she writes that Wolf’s delivery of “critical engagement lends a sense of immediacy to the lecture and helps facilitate critical consciousness development for her students without their discourse being central” (p. 8). There is no doubt that the student discourse is not central precisely because the centrality focuses squarely on Wolf and her personal suffering. And again, while Glenn – citing McKerrow – promotes the concept that “a critical rhetoric is decidedly, yet self-reflexively, subjective” (p. 7) her focus is on the subjectivity of such an assertion while negating the critical aspect of self-reflexivity. The danger in the former (at the expense of the latter) is that students may swap one set of inappropriate cultural beliefs for another appropriately sanctioned set without giving themselves opportunity to critically examine from where such cultural inappropriateness emerges and, perhaps more importantly, the constructed social norms that define inappropriateness. As McLaren asserts, a “social critique of ideology that does not consider the complex and often conflicting structures of its own discursive premises does little to further the advancement of a critical pedagogy. In fact, just such a position can only reproduce the very strictures it is seeking to displace” (1988, p. 177).
In the absence of specific examples of critical, reflective thought that Glenn purports is the result of Wolf’s pedagogy, consider a hypothetical situation drawn from Glenn’s assertion that “feelings (as opposed to informal logic or reasoning) are a natural and necessary part of the critical process” and that “cultural critique [is] . . . a deeply personal and powerfully political process” (2000, p. 7). We might accept, readily, the notions of pain – perhaps even profound personal trauma – that Wolf encountered in her recollections of childhood teasing. We are quick to empathize with the plight of women oppressed by the exploitation of pornography. And yet, how do we reconcile this with pleas from others who may have equally painful and personal contexts of discrimination: personal trauma for being too fat, too thin, too smart, too dysfunctional, too bland, too eccentric, too strong or too weak; the woman who participates in the pornographic industry as willing participant; the way women portray themselves when dressed in provocative clothing, or when they resort to feminine wiles of inflected sentences, or become helpless in the face of adversity? Can we even dare to suggest that these women may be taking an active role in their own oppression?
There is something intrinsically questionable about imbuing the pathos-driven veracity of personal truth into the assertions of others. The “logic” is there – unquestionably. After all, how do we critique what the individual feels, experiences, and lives for that we have not felt or experienced or lived for? What does it feel to be Hispanic in South Texas? What is it like to be African American in downtown Mobile, Alabama? A Koori in Toowoomba, Australia? Can we challenge individuals’ experiences, beliefs, and even values when we have not lived them ourselves? Therefore, the audacity – and fallacy – is clear in Glenn’s statement when she accuses those who call for some objective analysis guilty of sophistry.
If we can wade through the rhetorical gloss of liberal dosings of McKerrow’s re-conceptualized doxa, then we arrive at a destination that speaks of reconciling what we believe to be true with the uncomfortable suggestion that it may just be – if not false – then at least one truth among many possible truths. And yet, in Wolf’s classroom it appears there is only one truth – that provided by Wolf herself. As Glenn writes on her observations of that class: “Dr. Wolf begins the class session with a participation assignment: a current events survey. The first question on the survey is, ‘What is going on in East Timor?’ She spells the name for those who seem to be confused by the question” (2002, p 8). Wolf then fires off a round of general knowledge – or, as it turns out, general ignorance – questions over Iraq (the connection with East Timor is not made clear):
How do people in Iraq label their ethnic group? What is the capital city of Iraq? What is the name of one other city in Iraq besides the capital? What does the terrain/land look like in Iraq? What is the weather like in Iraq? Can you name a body of water in this country? What form of government will you find there? Is there a Head of State in Iraq and what is his/her title? What percentage of the population of the Iraqi people lives in the cities? During the process of asking the questions, Dr. Wolf takes on a demanding, almost aggressive tone. It feels as if she expects that her students should know the answers to these questions and that they should have no problem responding to questions about countries that have generated such intense media attention (2002. p. 8).
The students then commit their ignorance to paper and submit it to Wolf, who then conveniently “tells them the answers to the questions” (p. 8). Then, “[a]fter disabusing the students of numerous stereotypes and misconceptions about Middle-Eastern peoples, their cultures, and the countries in which they live, she [Wolf] spends some time explicitly critiquing what seems to be an apparent lack of engagement with and attention to the news media” (p. 8). The cynic might be forgiven for offering a wry comment at this point: It is a relief to know that we can rely on Wolf’s interpretation of the world for us, and avoid having to uncomfortably question our own realities and places in the world; in short, critically reflecting on what we really think.
While Glenn’s description of the follow-up assignments such as student criticism of an activist’s website or television news program are more critically on target in terms of “compell[ing] students to focus attention on a subject that they, previously, may not have thought about in much depth” (p. 8), there is an incongruity about the commentary that follows: “[I]n conjunction with Dr. Wolf’s critical analysis, they [these assignments] move students from vague feelings about an issue or concept to working their way through those feelings toward critically informed thinking and reflection” (p. 8-9). The point, however, remains as to whose critical thoughts are being reflected and for what purpose. Is it conceivable, for instance, to argue that Wolf is wrong?
In opposition to Glenn’s claim that Dr. Wolf’s critical pedagogy offers “alternative, unique aspects of critical engagement in a large class that does not lend itself to critical discussion” (2002, p. 11), we might instead posit that it is neither a critical nor a particularly radical approach. Lecture, question-response, and graphical representations of sex and violence sound like standard contemporary fare in the classroom of the 21st century. A radical pedagogy, however, that seeks transformational learning is not one that rewards – whether intrinsically or extrinsically – students for accepting a sanctioned set of ideological beliefs. It is instead one that engages “psychological resistance” (Tingle, 1992, p.19) in order to overcome “narcissistic vulnerability” (p. 9), and seeks to criticize, problematize, and complicate points of view through dissent, discourse, and dialogue in an ongoing negotiation, and struggle for meaning (Giroux, 2001; Flores, 2004) in what Tingle describes as “critical consciousness [that] requires critical self-consciousness” (1992, p. 10). As Keesing-Styles (2003) notes, it is “a call to action” (p. 9) for critical pedagogy, one to which we need to be careful, critical, and reflective in responding. Further, it is one that we cannot afford to dismiss – or we risk our students falling into a void of social-sanctioned sameness as a result of our crying wolf.
I would like to acknowledge my thanks and gratitude to the invaluable assistance provided by Dr. Gabe Keri in the drafting and revision of this piece, and also extend my appreciation to the thoughtful comments provided by the anonymous reviewers.
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