Q: Is it possible to legitimately separate an argument, a thread or a particular claim, from its philosophical and ideological moorings? To appropriate and apply the premise but reject the foundation from which that premise has emerged? What are the consequences? And am I brave enough—or smart enough—to attempt it? To pull it off successfully?
This is a problem I have been grappling with for quite some time, and it is causing both disquiet and stagnation as I attempt to negotiate the problem, as it is always flowing like an underground river through my dissertation.
Specifically, I find objectionable the implicit violence I read in Critical Literacy texts that call for toppling ‘dominant discourses’ and prescribe an activist political stance toward pedagogy. But while I reject the activist forces that drive the movement, I cannot dismiss the value and importance of the conclusions and arguments advanced by Freire and Giroux, among others. I have written about this tension before, going as far to include in a prelims essay the following:
[. . .] critical literacy holds important implications for understanding the complexity of ethos and for theorizing, practicing, and designing pedagogies that operate on the principle of ethical beneficence and its corollary, Primum non nocere.
However . . .
[Critical Literacy] seems, to me, to assume that power is a zero-sum game and that, in its most extreme interpretation, in order for oppressed or marginalized literate traditions to fully participate or access a given discourse, the existing powers must be countered, resisted, or deposed—almost violently. Its calls, either implicitly or explicitly, for radical pedagogical activism, seem to risk overturning existing hegemonies only to replace them with others [. . .]and . . .
Insofar as I agree with the many of the claims of Critical Literacy, I can’t help but feel somewhat vilified by them. I am torn between my heritage, the values that inform the culture I live, and the desire to ensure that others have equal and just protections extended to them. And I am unsure how to resolve the problem.
I wrote those passages back in the spring and summer of 2007; a year-and-a-half later, I am no closer to reconciliation. Perhaps I’m too close to it, the old “can’t see the forest for the trees” situation. So I’m asking folks who are smarter than I—what say you? Can I legitimately concede, even embrace, the point while rejecting the call to action--or, at least, the recommended course of action?
Is this something you have encountered? A problem with which you have been able to contend?
2 comments:
I don't know. I always try to think about the fact that Freire, in particular, worked within a very specific historical context that informs his discourse. I'm ok with that. The aggressiveness is his writing makes sense to me for that very reason. That isn't to say, however, that this aggression and violence in his discourse is appropriate in all contexts.
I guess what I'm getting at is that I think that many people adopt this language without thinking about the differences between Freire's lived context and their own. In fact, I don't necessarily think it is fair to Freire to not differentiate between these very different contexts (that is, when we are talking about critical literacy in U. S. schools).
How do you feel about bell hooks' take on Freire?
Well, you know . . . you make a good point. So many riffs, if you will, on Freire's pedagogy take up the coup-like ethos in a context that doesn't necessarily warrant such an approach.
hooks' approach to pedagogy is, or at least has always seemed to me, deeply democratic and cognizant of the position of teacher-as-learner--and she seems to understand Freire much in the way you have suggested--situated. And her work is influenced by, not beholden to, his perspective and approach. I hadn't really thought about it that way (not sure why).
I guess my real struggle is that I admire so much of what Freire advances and the way he frames his discussions, but I an uneasy about the ways in which his work is appropriated . . . but I suspect I would encounter passionate resistance to characterizing his influence as 'appropriation.'
And, I don't know where I 'fit' vis-a-vis Freire's perspective. What are the implications for someone who is situated as I (and, you know, that applies to a whole lot of folks)? How does Freire's work position 'me'?
Post a Comment