Doumont (2002) shares a term from
Steven Pinker, "conventional absurdity":
a statement that goes against all common sense but that everyone believes becauase they dimly recall having heard it somewhere and because it is so pregnant with implications.
I imagine this sometimes happens in a way not unlike
the children's game of "telephone". Someone reads an idea, uses it in an article or paper; someone picks it up, paraphrases it, passes it along, and so on. Before long, the idea has changed substantially.
That rule about non-verbal communication carrying most of the content of a message is another one that has often gotten
muddled up (though
word does seem to be getting around about that one).
It's for this reason that I like to see even practice-oriented articles, books, and presentations (not just academic ones) cite their sources. I want the opportunity to look at sources and see for myself whether the writer or the speaker has gotten the ideas right, and whether anything important has been left out.
It's not, however, only about checking the credibility of specific ideas. Consider also the idea of knowing the history of the profession you're in.
We're all familiar with arguments for being familiar with history, right? I found
this paper (pdf) that presents them in an interesting way, putting them in the words of
Herodotus:
- In order to ensure that great deeds are not forgotten
- In order to understand the present and prepare for the future
- In order to understand the will of God
- In order to provide a moral lesson—a model of good behavior and a warning about evil
- In order to understand the history of one’s nation and to increase patriotism or sense of identity
- In order to encourage civic participation and citizenship
- In order to lessen prejudices
- In order to appreciate arts and literature
- In order to foster personal growth
- In order to prepare for work by developing analytical skills
Depending on who you are and what you do, not all of these will apply -- but some may.
This page on the history of DITA introduced me to
John Brockmann; as it turns out, Brockmann writes on the history of technical communication -- I found one them,
From Millwrights to Shipwrights to the Twenty-First Century: Explorations in a History of Technical Communication in the United States. In the introduction, Brockmann gives the benefits of a historical perspective on technical communication:
- It can reveal whether a contemporary standard in technical communication is enduring or transitory.
- It can help answer questions about standards, education, and future directions for the professional.
- It can, much like Barbara McClintock did for corn, help replenish the contemporary "gene pool" of technical communication by acquainting the practitioner with styles and techniques of the past that they can use to "recover qualities lost through generations of inbreeding" (yes, Brockmann said that in reference to corn).
- It can provide familiarity with inadequacies of the past, which can help practitioners better judge styles and techniques used now and in future, and can help them repeating past mistakes.
- It can help practitioners create a better sense of professional self-identity and tradition.
And that last point brings me to the notion of
"disciplinarity". I was in the library the other day and by accident I came across
Knowledges: historical and critical studies in disciplinarity. I'd very recently started thinking about "discipline" as a way to describe technical communication so the title must have caught my eye. I've started looking at it and a few things are resonating with me.
From the bit that I've read so far, disciplinarity appears to be concerned how disciplines:
- describe themselves and their histories
- establish boundaries between each other
- produce knowledge
- socialize members of their communities
It occurs to me that disciplinarity might be an interesting lens through which to watch some of the things going on around me, such as STC
"telling its powerful story" and the rise of
"content strategy". Not to explain them away (Keeping in mind what
Shapin and Shaffer (1985) have to say about the dangers of posing awkward questions about "what everybody knows"), but rather to give me a way of looking at them without getting caught up, much as a writer would want to remain objective about their material and not lose sight of the need for effective words, structure, and so on.
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