DISCOURSE  ANALYSIS  
 
 
  A  resource  book  for  students  
 
 
 
 
  RODNEY  H.  JONES  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
(103,884  words)
  

 HOW  TO  USE  THIS  BOOK  

 
The  Routledge  English  Language  Introductions  are  ‘flexi-­‐texts’  that  you  can  use  
to  suit  your  own  style  of  study.  The  books  are  divided  into  four  sections:  A  
Introduction–  sets  out  the  key  concepts  for  the  area  of  study.  The  units  of  this  
section  take  you  through  the  foundational  concepts,  providing  you  with  an  initial  
toolkit  for  your  own  study.  By  the  end  of  the  section,  you  will  have  a  good  
overview  of  the  whole  field.  B  Development–  adds  to  your  knowledge  and  builds  
on  the  key  ideas  already  introduced.  Units  in  this  section  also  introduce    key  
analytical  tools  and  techniques.  By  the  end  of  this  section,  you  will  already  have  a  
good  and  fairly  detailed  grasp  of  the  field,  and  will  be  ready  to  undertake  your  
own  exploration  and  thinking.  C  Exploration–  provides  examples  of  language  
data  and  guides  you  through  your  own  investigation  of  the  topic  or  area.  The  
units  in  this  section  will  be  more  open-­‐ended  and  exploratory,  and  you  will  be  
encouraged  to  try  out  your  ideas  and  think  for  yourself,  using  your  newly  
acquired  knowledge.  D  Extension–  offers  you  the  chance  to  compare  your  
expertise  with  key  readings  in  the  area.  These  are  taken  from  the  work  of  
important  writers,  and  are  provided  with  guidance  and  questions  for  your  
further  thought.  You  can  read  this  book  like  a  traditional  textbook,  ‘vertically’  
straight  through  from  beginning  to  end.  So  you  would  establish  a  broad  sense  of  
the  key  ideas  by  reading  through  section  A,  and  deepen  your  knowledge  by  
reading  section  B.  Section  C  would  then  present  you  with  one  or  more  Activities  
to  test  out  different  aspects  of  your  broad  knowledge.  Finally,  having  gained  a  
good  level  of  competence,  you  can  read  the  section  D  articles  and  follow  up  the  
Further  Reading.  However,  the  Routledge  English  Language  Introductions  have  
been  designed  so  that  you  can  read  them  in  another  dimension,  ‘horizontally’  
across  the  numbered  units.  For  example,  units  A1,  B1,  C1  and  D1  constitute  a  
strand,  then  developing  your  knowledge,  then  testing  out  and  exploring  some  
key  ideas,  and  finally  offering  you  a  key  case-­‐study  to  read.  The  strand  across  A2,  
B2,  C2,  D2,  and  the  other  strands  3,  4,  5,  and  so  on,  all  work  in  the  same  way.  
Reading  across  the  strands  will  take  you  rapidly  from  the  key  concepts  of  a  
specific  topic,  to  a  level  of  expertise  in  that  precise  topic,  all  with  a  very  close  
focus.  You  can  match  your  way  of  reading  with  the  best  way  that  you  work.  The  
glossarial  index  at  the  end,  together  with  the  suggestions  for  Further  Reading  for  
each  strand  will  help  to  keep  you  orientated.  Each  textbook  has  a  supporting  
website  with  extra  commentary,  suggestions,  additional  material  and  support  for  
teachers  and  students.  
 
This  book  covers  the  vast  field  of  the  Discourse  Analysis.  Strand  1  gives  a  general  
introduction  to  the  field,  and  the  following  strands  are  broadly  arranged  across  
three  areas.  Strands  1  to  4  cover  the  study  of  written  discourse,  examining  
cohesion  and  coherence,  the  social  functions  of  texts  and  the  ways  ideology  is  
expressed  in  written  texts.  Strands  5  to  7  focus  more  on  spoken  discourse  and  
more  interactive  written  discourse  such  as  that  which  occurs  in  computer-­‐
mediated  communication,  examining  how  conversations  are  structured  and  how  
conversational  participations  strategically  construct  identities  and  activities  in  
their  talk,  as  well  as  how  social  contexts  affect  the  way  utterances  are  produced  

  ii  
and  interpreted.  The  last  three  strands  focus  on  three  relatively  new  approaches  
to  discourse:  mediated  discourse  analysis,  an  approach  which  examines,  among  
other  things,  the  way  media  affect  the  kinds  of  discourse  we  can  produce  and  
what  we  can  do  with  it;  multimodal  discourse  analysis,  an  approach  which  
considers  modes  of  communication  beyond  spoken  and  written  language  such  as  
images  and  gestures;  and  corpus-­‐assisted  discourse  analysis,  an  approach  which  
uses  computers  to  aid  in  the  analysis  of  large  collections  of  texts  or  transcripts.    
Discourse  analysis  is  a  diverse  and  rapidly  developing  field:  nearly  everything  
observation  we  have  made  about  discourse  in  this  book  is  open  to  debate,  and  
nearly  every  analytical  technique  we  have  introduced  is  open  to  criticism  or  
further  refinement.  The  real  aim  of  this  book  is  to  provide  you  with  the  basic  
backgroud  to  be  able  to  engage  in  these  debates  and  to  assemble  a  toolkit  of  
analytical  techniques  that  best  fit  your  needs.  If  you  wish  to  know  more  about  
the  ways  discourse  analysis  fits  into  or  relates  to  other  approaches  to  the  study  
of  English,  other  books  in  the  RELI  series  such  as  Introducing  English  language:  A  
resource  book  for  students  by  Louise  Mullany  and  Peter  Stockwell,  Pragmatics  
and  discourse:  A  resource  book  for  students  by  Joan  Cutting,  and  Language  and  
power:  A  resource  book  for  students  by  Paul  Simpson  and  Andrea  Mayr.  
 
The  RELI  books  do  not  aim  to  replace  your  teacher  or  lecturer,  but  instead  they  
offer  both  student  and  expert  a  resource  for  you  to  adapt  as  you  think  most  
appropriate.  You  will  want  to  take  issue  with  what  is  presented  here,  test  out  the  
assumptions,  and  –  we  hope  –  feel  motivated  to  read  and  explore  further.  Space  
is  always  space  for  tutors  to  mediate  the  material  and  for  students  to  explore  
beyond  the  book.    

  iii  
CONTENTS  
 
Contents  cross-­‐referenced  
List  of  figures  and  tables  
Acknowledgements  
 

A     Introduction:  Key  topics  in  the  study  of  discourse  analysis  

 
1   What  is  discourse  analysis?  
2   Texts  and  texture  
3   Texts  and  their  social  functions  
4   Discourse  and  ideology  
5   Spoken  discourse  
6   Strategic  Interaction  
7   Context,  culture  and  communication  
8   Mediated  discourse  analysis  
9   Multimodal  discourse  analysis  
10   Corpus-­‐assisted  discourse  analysis  

B   Development:  Approaches  to  discourse  analysis  

 
1   Three  ways  of  looking  at  discourse  
2   Cohesion  and  coherence  
3   All  the  right  moves  
4   Constructing  reality  
5   The  texture  of  talk  
6   Negotiating  relationships  and  activities  
7   The  SPEAKING  model  
8   Mediation  
9   Modes,  meaning  and  action  
10   Procedures  for  corpus-­‐assisted  discourse  analysis  

C   Exploration:  Analyzing  discourse  

 
1   Doing  discourse  analysis:  first  steps  
2   Analyzing  texture  
3   Analyzing  genres  
4   Other  people’s  voices  
5   Analyzing  speech  acts  
6   Analyzing  conversational  strategies  
7   Analyzing  contexts  
8   Doing  mediated  discourse  analysis  
9   Doing  multimodal  discourse  analysis  
10   Analyzing  corpora  
 
 

  iv  
D   Extension:  Readings  in  discourse  analysis  
 
1   The  three  perspectives  revisited  (Zellig  Harris;  Henry  G.  Widdowson;  
James  Paul  Gee)  
2   Two  perspectives  on  texture  (Michael  A.  K.  Halliday  and  Ruqaiya  Hasan;  
David  Rumelhart)  
3   Genres,  discourse  communities  and  power  (John  Swales,  Vijay  K.  Bhatia)    
4   Ideologies  in  discourse  (Norman  Fairclough;  James  Paul  Gee)    
5   Two  perspectives  on  conversation  (John  L.  Austin;  Emanuel  A.  Schegloff  
and  Harvey  Sacks)  
6   Frames  in  interaction  (Deborah  Tannen  and  Cynthia  Wallat)  
7   The  ethnography  of  communication  (Dell  Hymes;  Muriel  Saville-­‐Troike)  
8   Discourse  and  action  (Ron  Scollon)    
9   Two  perspectives  on  multimodality  (Gunther  Kress,  and  Theo  van  
Leeuwen;  Sigrid  Norris)    
10   Finding  ‘Discourses’  with  corpus-­‐assisted  analysis  (Paul  Baker,  and  Tony  
McEnery)  

  v  
CONTENTS      CROSS-­‐REFERENCED    
 
Topic A INTRODUCTION B DEVELOPMENT C EXPLORATION E EXTENSION Topic
1 What is discourse analysis? Three ways of looking at discourse Doing discourse analysis: first The three perspectives revisited 1
steps (Zellig Harris; Henry G.
Widdowson; James Paul Gee)
2 Texts and texture Cohesion and coherence Analyzing texture Two perspectives on texture 2
(Michael A. K. Halliday and
Ruqaiya Hasan; David
Rumelhart)
3 Texts and their social functions All the right moves Analyzing genres Genres, discourse communities 3
and power (John Swales, Vijay
K. Bhatia)
4 Discourse and ideology Constructing reality Other people’s voices Ideologies in discourse (Norman 4
Fairclough; James Paul Gee)
5 Spoken discourse The texture of talk Analyzing speech acts Two perspectives on 5
conversation (John L. Austin;
Emanuel A. Schegloff and
Harvey Sacks)
6 Strategic interaction Negotiating relationships and Analyzing conversational Frames in interaction (Deborah 6
activities strategies Tannen and Cynthia Wallat)
7 Context, culture and The SPEAKING model Analyzing contexts The ethnography of 7
communication communication (Dell Hymes;
Muriel Saville-Troike)
8 Mediated discourse analysis Mediation Doing mediated discourse Discourse and action (Ron 8
analysis Scollon)
9 Multimodal discourse analysis Modes, meaning and action Doing multimodal discourse Two perspectives on 9
analysis multimodality (Gunther Kress,
and Theo van Leeuwen; Sigrid
Norris)
10 Corpus-assisted discourse Procedures for corpus-assisted Analyzing corpora Finding ‘Discourses’ with 10
analysis discourses analysis corpus-assisted analysis (Paul
Baker, and Tony McEnery)

  6  
LIST  OF  FIGURES  AND  TABLES  
 
 

Figures  
 
A5.1     Calvin  and  Hobbs  (Universal  Press  Syndicate  All  Rights  Reserved)    
B2.1    Advertisement  from  Body  Coach.Net  
B8.1    Crossing  the  street    
B9.1     Warriors  (photo  credit  Claudio  Gennari)  
B9.2     Using  information,  media  and  digital  literacy  (credit  Karin  Dalziel)  
B9.3     Child  (photo  credit  Denis  Mihailov)  
B9.  4     AIDS  prevention  advertisement  (Abrasco,  Brazil)    
B10.1   Concordance  plots  for  Lady  Gaga  songs  
C1.1     Excerpt  from  the  author’s  Facebook  News  Feed  
C3.1     From  The  Daily  Dish  
C3.2   From  Don’t  Make  Me  Mad  (Cheryn-­‐ann  Chew’s  blog)  
C6.1     Excerpt  from  the  author’s  Facebook  Wall  
C6.2     MSN  Messenger  emoticons  
C10.1     Partial  concordance  list  for  ‘me’  
C10.2     Partial  concordance  list  for  ‘me’  
C10.3     Keywords  in  the  Lady  Gaga  corpus  
 

Tables  
 
B6.1     Face  strategies  
C4.1     Different  forms  of  discourse  representation  
C5.1     Comparison  of  threatening,  warning,  advising  and  promising  (adapted  
from  Shuy  1993:  98)  
C8.1     Cultural  tools  for  breaking  up  
C10.1     Size  of  corpora  and  type  token  ratio  
 
C10.2     Top  five  function  words  
C10.3     Top  five  content  words  
C10.4     Top  5  collocates  of  ‘love’  (span  5L,  5R)  
 
 
 

  vii  
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS  
 
I  wish  to  thank  all  of  my  colleagues  at  City  University  of  Hong  Kong  for  their  
valuable  suggestions  and  support  while  I  was  writing  this  book,  and  especially  
my  students  with  whom  I  have  tried  out  this  material  over  the  years  and  who  
have  given  me  valuable  feedback  on  it.  Particular  thanks  go  to  Mr  Daniel  
Freeman  for  his  close  copyediting  and  insightful  comments  on  the  manuscript.    
 
The  author  and  publisher  also  wish  to  thank  the  following  for  permission  to  use  
copyright  material.    
 
MCA  Music,  ‘Kiss  the  Bride’,  Elton  John  (1983)  (A4)  
United  Press  Syndicate  for  Calvin  and  Hobbs  (Image  ID  17467)  released  
12/27/1985.  All  rights  reserved  (A5)  
Body  Coach  International,  Advertisement.  All  rights  reserved  (B2)  
Castle  Rock  Pictures,  excerpt  from  script  of  When  Harry  Met  Sally  (1988)  B6    
Claudio  Gennari,  Warriors  (photo)  licensed  under  the  Creative  Commons  for  
reuse  with  attribution.  (B9)  
Karin  Dalziel,  Using  information,  media  and  digital  literacy,  image,  licensed  
under  the  Creative  Commons  for  reuse  with  attribution.  (B9)  
Denis  Mihailov,  Child  (photo),  licensed  under  the  Creative  Commons  for  reuse  
with  attribution.  (B9)    
Starbucks  Corporation,  text  from  coffee  sleeve  (C1)  
Press  Trust  of  India,  Lady  Gaga's  'meat  dress'  voted  most  iconic  outfit  
Dec  19,  2010,  Retreived  from  The  Times  of  India  (C2)  
People  for  the  Ethical  Treatment  of  Animals,  The  PETA  Files,  Lady  Gaga’s  Meat  
Dress,  September  13,  2010    
The  Atlantic  Corporation,  Screenshot  from  the  Daily  Dish  (C3)  
Cheryn-­‐ann  Chew,  Screenshot  from  Blog  http://calciumblock.diaryland.com/,  
used  with  permission  (C3)    
China  shuns  U.S.  mediation  in  its  island  dispute  with  Japan ,  CNN  International,    
November  03,  2010    
China:  Trilateral  talks  merely  US  wishful  thinking,  China  Daily,  November  02,  
2010  (C4)    
MSN  Messenger  emoticons.  Microsoft  Corporation  (C6)    
Wacoal  Butterfly  Bra  ad,  Wacoal  Holdings  Corporation.  All  Rights  Reserved.  (C9)      
Harris,  Z.  (1952).  Discourse  analysis.  Language,  28(1),  1-­‐30.  (D1)  
Widdowson,  H.  G.  (1973).  An  applied  linguistic  approach  to  discourse  analysis.  
(Unpublished  doctoral  dissertation).  Department  of  Linguistics,  University  of  
Edinburgh.  (D1)  
Gee,  J.  P.  (2010).  Introduction  to  discourse  analysis:  Theory  and  method  (3rd  ed.).  
London:  Routledge.  (D1)  
Halliday,  M.  A.  K.,  and  Hasan,  R.  (1976).  Cohesion  in  English.  London:  Longman.  
(D2)  
Rumelhart,  D.  (1975).  Notes  on  a  schema  for  stories.  In  D.  Bobrow  and  A.  Collins  
(Eds.),  Representation  and  understanding:  Studies  in  cognitive  science.  New  York:  
Academic  Press.  (B2,  D2)  
Swales,  J.  M.  (1990).  Genre  analysis:  English  in  academic  and  research  settings.  
Cambridge:  Cambridge  University  Press.  (D3)  
Bhatia,  V.  K.  (1997).  The  power  and  politics  of  genre.  World  Englishes,  16(3),  359-­‐
371.  (D3)  
Fairclough,  N.  (1992).  Discourse  and  social  change.  London:  Polity.  (D4)  
Gee,  J.  P.  (1996).  Social  linguistics  and  literacies:  Ideology  in  discourses.  London  ;  
Bristol,  PA:  Taylor  and  Francis.  (D4)  
Austin,  J.  L.  (1976).  How  to  do  things  with  words,  2nd  Edition.  (J.  O.  Urmson,  and  
M.  Sbisa,  Eds.)  Oxford:  Oxford  University  Press.  (D5)    
Schegloff  ,  E.  A.  and  Sacks,  H.  (1973).  Opening  up  closings.  Semiotica  7,  289-­‐  327.  
(D5)  Hymes,  D.  (1986).  Models  of  the  interaction  of  language  and  social  life.  In  J.  
J.  Gumperz  and  D.  Hymes  (Eds.),  Directions  in  Sociolinguistics  (pp.  296-­‐336).    
Oxford:  Basil  Blackwell.  (D7)  
Saville-­‐Troike,  M.  (2003)  The  ethnography  of  communication.  Oxford:  Blackwell.  
(D7)  
Scollon,  R.  (2001).  Mediated  discourse:  The  nexus  of  practice.  London:  Routledge.  
(D8)  
Kress,  G.  and  van  Leeuwen,  T.  (2006).  Reading  images:  the  grammar  of  visual  
design  2nd  Edition.  London  and  New  York:  Routledge.  (D9)  
Norris,  S.  (2004).  Analyzing  multimodal  interaction:  a  methodological  framework.  
London:  Routledge.  (A9)  
Baker,  P.  and  McEnery,  T.  (2005).  A  corpus-­‐based  approach  to  discourses  of  
refugees  and  asylum  seekers  in  UN  and  newspaper  texts.  Journal  of  Language  
and  Politics  4(2),  197-­‐226.  (D10)  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

  ix  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

SECTION  A:  
 
INTRODUCTION:  KEY  TOPICS  IN  THE  
STUDY  OF  DISCOURSE  ANALYSIS    

  1  
A1  WHAT  IS  DISCOURSE  ANALYSIS   ?
 
Our  first  step  in  the  study  of  discourse  analysis  has  to  be  figuring  out  exactly  
what  we  mean  by  ‘discourse’  and  why  it  is  so  important  to  learn  how  to  analyze  
it.    
 
To  start  out  we  can  say  that  discourse  analysis  is  the  study  of  language.  Many  
people  would  define  discourse  analysis  as  a  sub-­‐field  of  linguistics,  which  is  the  
scientific  study  of  language.    Different  kinds  of  linguists  study  different  aspects  of  
language.  Phonologists  study  the  sounds  of  languages  and  how  people  use  them.  
Lexicographers  study  words,  their  meanings  and  their  histories.  Grammarians  
study  how  words  are  put  together  to  form  sentences  and  spoken  utterances.  And  
discourse  analysts  study  the  ways  sentences  and  utterances  go  together  to  make  
texts  and  interactions  and  how  those  texts  and  interactions  fit  into  our  social  
world.    
 
But  discourse  analysis  is  not  just  the  study  of  language,  but  a  way  of  looking  at  
language  that  focuses  on  how  people  use  it  in  real  life  to  do  things  like  joke  and  
argue  and  persuade  and  flirt,  and  to  show  that  they  are  certain  kinds  of  people  or  
belong  to  certain  groups.  This  way  of  looking  at  language  is  based  on  four  main  
assumptions.  They  are:    
 
1)  Language  is  ambiguous.  What  things  mean  is  never  absolutely  clear.  All  
communication  involves  interpreting  what  other  people  mean  and  what  they  are  
trying  to  do.    
 
2)  Language  is  always  ‘in  the  world’.  That  is,  what  language  means  is  always  a  
matter  of  where  and  when  it  is  used  and  what  it  is  used  to  do.    
 
3)  The  way  we  use  language  is  inseparable  from  who  we  are  and  the  different  
social  groups  to  which  we  belong.  We  use  language  to  display  different  kinds  of  
social  identities  and  to  show  that  we  belong  to  different  groups.  
 
4)  Language  is  never  used  all  by  itself.  It  is  always  combined  with  other  things  
such  as  our  tone  of  voice,  facial  expressions  and  gestures  when  we  speak,  and  the  
fonts,  layout  and  graphics  we  use  in  written  texts.  What  language  means  and  
what  we  can  do  with  it  is  often  a  matter  of  how  it  is  combined  with  these  other  
things.    
 

The  ambiguity  of  language  

 
Everyone  has  had  the  experience  of  puzzling  over  what  someone  –  a  lover  or  a  
parent  or  a  friend  –  ‘really  meant’  by  what  he  or  she  said.  In  fact,  nearly  all  
communication  contains  some  elements  of  meaning  that  are  not  expressed  
directly  by  the  words  that  are  spoken  or  written.  Even  when  we  think  we  are  
expressing  ourselves  clearly  and  directly,  we  many  not  be.  For  example,  you  may  

  2  
want  to  borrow  a  pen  from  someone,  and  express  this  desire  with  the  question,  
‘Do  you  have  a  pen?’  Strictly  speaking,  though,  this  question  does  not  directly  
communicate  that  you  need  a  pen.  It  only  asks  if  the  other  person  is  in  
possession  of  one.  In  order  to  understand  this  question  as  a  request,  the  other  
person  needs  to  undertake  a  process  of  ‘figuring  out’  what  you  meant,  a  process  
which  in  this  case  may  be  largely  unconscious  and  automatic,  but  which  is,  all  the  
same,  a  process  of  interpretation.    
 
So,  we  can  take  as  a  starting  point  for  our  study  of  discourse  analysis  the  fact  that  
people  don’t  always  say  what  they  mean,  and  people  don’t  always  mean  what  they  
say.    This  is  not  because  people  are  trying  to  trick  or  deceive  each  other  (though  
sometimes  they  are),  but  because  language  is,  by  its  very  nature,  ambiguous.  To  
say  exactly  what  we  mean  all  the  time  would  be  impossible;  first,  because  as  
poets,  lovers  and  even  lawyers  know,  language  is  an  imperfect  tool  for  the  
precise  expression  of  many  things  we  think  and  feel;  and  second  because  
whenever  we  communicate  we  always  mean  to  communicate  more  than  just  one  
thing.  When  you  ask  your  friend  if  he  or  she  has  a  pen,  for  example,  you  mean  to  
communicate  not  just  that  you  need  a  pen  but  also  that  you  do  not  wish  to  
impose  on  them  or  that  you  feel  a  bit  shy  about  borrowing  a  pen,  which  is  one  of  
the  reasons  why  you  approach  the  whole  business  of  requesting  indirectly  by  
asking  if  they  have  a  pen,  even  when  you  know  very  well  that  they  have  one.    
 

Language  in  the  world  

 
One  of  the  most  important  ways  we  understand  what  people  mean  when  they  
communicate  is  by  making  reference  to  the  social  context  within  which  they  are  
speaking  or  writing.  The  meaning  of  an  utterance  can  change  dramatically  
depending  on  who  is  saying  it,  when  and  where  it  is  said,  and  to  whom  it  is  said.  
If  a  teacher  asks  a  student  who  is  about  to  take  an  examination  the  same  
question  we  discussed  above:  ‘Do  you  have  a  pen?’  it  is  rather  unlikely  that  this  is  
a  request  or  that  the  teacher  is  a  bit  shy  about  communicating  with  the  student.  
Rather,  this  utterance  is  probably  designed  to  make  sure  that  the  student  has  the  
proper  tool  to  take  the  examination  or  to  inform  the  student  that  a  pen  (rather  
than  a  pencil)  must  be  used.    
 
In  other  words,  when  we  speak  of  discourse,  we  are  always  speaking  of  language  
that  is  in  some  way  situated.  Language  is  always  situated  in  at  least  four  ways.  
First,  language  is  situated  within  the  material  world,  and  where  we  encounter  it,  
whether  it  be  on  a  shop  sign  or  in  a  textbook  or  on  a  particular  website  will  
contribute  to  the  way  we  interpret  it.  Second,  language  is  situated  within  
relationships;  one  of  the  main  ways  we  understand  what  people  mean  when  they  
speak  or  write  is  by  referring  to  who  they  are,  how  well  we  know  them,  and  
whether  or  not  they  have  some  kind  of  power  over  us.  Third,  language  is  situated  
in  history,  that  is,  in  relation  to  what  happened  before  and  what  we  expect  to  
happen  afterwards.  Finally,  language  is  situated  in  relation  to  other  language  –  
utterances  and  texts  always  respond  to  or  refer  to  other  utterances  and  texts;  
that  is,  everything  that  we  say  or  write  is  situated  in  a  kind  of  network  of  
discourse.    

  3  
  

Language  and  social  identity  

 
Not  only  is  discourse  situated,  partly  by  who  says  (or  writes)  what  to  whom,  but  
people  -­‐-­‐  the  ‘whos’  and  the  ‘whoms’  who  say  or  write  these  things  -­‐-­‐  are  also  
situated  by  discourse.  What  is  meant  by  this  is  that  whenever  people  speak  or  
write,  they  are,  through  their  discourse,  somehow  demonstrating  who  they  are  
and  what  their  relationship  is  to  other  people.  They  are  enacting  their  identities.    
 
The  important  thing  about  such  identities  is  that  they  are  multiple  and  fluid  
rather  than  singular  and  fixed.  The  identity  I  enact  at  the  dance  club  on  Friday  
night  is  not  the  same  identity  I  enact  at  the  office  on  Monday  morning.  The  
reason  for  this  is  not  that  I  change  my  personality  in  any  fundamental  way,  but  
rather  that  I  change  the  way  I  use  language.    
 

Language  and  other  modes  

 
Changing  the  way  I  use  language  when  I  enact  the  identity  of  a  dance  club  diva  or  
a  yoga  teacher  or  a  university  professor,  of  course,  is  not  enough  to  fully  enact  
these  identities.  I  also  have  to  dress  in  certain  ways,  act  in  certain  ways,  and  hang  
out  in  certain  places  with  certain  people.  In  other  words,  language  alone  cannot  
achieve  all  the  things  I  need  to  do  to  be  a  certain  kind  of  person.  I  always  have  to  
combine  that  language  with  other  things  like  fashion,  gestures,  and  the  handling  
of  various  kinds  of  objects.    
 
Partially  because  of  its  roots  in  linguistics,  discourse  analysts  used  to  focus  
almost  exclusively  on  written  or  spoken  language.  Now,  people  are  increasingly  
realizing  not  just  that  we  communicate  in  a  lot  of  ways  that  do  not  involve  
language,  but  that  in  order  to  understand  what  people  mean  when  they  use  
language,  we  need  to  pay  attention  to  the  way  it  is  combined  with  these  other  
communicative  modes.    
 

So  What  Good  is  Discourse  Analysis?    

 
Given  these  four  principles,  we  can  begin  to  understand  some  of  the  reasons  why  
learning  how  to  analyze  discourse  might  be  useful.  The  chief  reason  is  that  we  
already  engage  in  discourse  analysis  all  the  time  when  we  try  to  figure  out  what  
people  mean  by  what  they  say  and  when  we  try  to  express  our  multiple  and  
complicated  meanings  to  them.  Much  of  what  you  learn  in  this  book  will  be  about  
making  processes  that  already  take  place  beneath  the  surface  of  your  
consciousness  more  explicit.  But  what  is  the  point  of  that,  you  might  ask,  if  all  of  
this  communication  and  interpretation  is  going  on  so  smoothly  without  us  
having  to  attend  to  it?  The  fact  is,  however,  it  is  not.  None  of  us  is  immune  to  
misunderstandings,  to  offending  people  by  saying  the  wrong  thing,  to  struggling  
to  get  our  message  across,  or  to  being  taken  in  by  someone  who  is  trying  
somehow  to  cheat  us.  Hopefully,  by  understanding  how  discourse  works  we  will  
be  able  to  understand  people  better  and  communicate  more  effectively.    

  4  
  
Studying  discourse  analysis,  however,  can  teach  you  more  than  that.  Since  the  
way  we  use  discourse  is  tied  up  with  our  social  identities  and  our  social  
relationships,  discourse  analysis  can  help  us  to  understand  how  the  societies  in  
which  we  live  are  put  together  and  how  they  are  maintained  through  our  day  to  
day  activities  of  speaking,  writing  and  making  use  of  other  modes  of  
communication.  It  can  help  us  to  understand  why  people  interact  with  one  
another  the  way  they  do  and  how  they  exert  power  and  influence  over  one  
another.  It  can  help  us  to  understand  how  people  view  reality  differently  and  
why  they  view  it  that  way.  The  study  of  discourse  analysis,  then,  is  not  just  the  
study  of  how  we  use  language.  It  is  also  indirectly  the  study  of  romance,  
friendship,  psychology,  politics,  power,  and  a  whole  lot  of  other  things.    

  5  
A2  TEXTS  AND  TEXTURE  
 
Discourse  analysts  analyze  ‘texts’  and  ‘conversations’.  But  what  is  a  ‘text’  and  
what  is  a  ‘conversation’?  What  distinguishes  texts  and  conversations  from  
random  collections  of  sentences  and  utterances?  These  are  the  questions  we  will  
take  up  in  this  section.  For  now  we  will  mostly  be  considering  written  texts.  
Later  we  will  talk  more  about  conversations.    
 
Consider  the  following  list  of  words:    
   
Milk  
Spaghetti  
Tomatoes  
Rocket  
Light  bulbs  
   
You  might  look  at  this  list  and  conclude  that  this  is  not  a  text  for  the  simple  
reason  that  it  ‘makes  no  sense’  to  you  –  that  it  has  no  meaning.  According  to  the  
linguist  M.A.K.  Halliday,  meaning  is  the  most  important  thing  that  makes  a  text  a  
text;  it  has  to  make  sense.  A  text,  in  his  view,  is  everything  that  is  meaningful  in  a  
particular  situation.  And  the  basis  for  meaning  is  choice  (Halliday  1978:  137).  
Whenever  I  choose  one  thing  rather  than  another  from  a  set  of  alternatives  (yes  
or  no,  up  or  down,  red  or  blue),  I  am  making  meaning.  This  focus  on  meaning,  in  
fact,  is  one  of  the  main  things  that  distinguishes  Halliday’s  brand  of  linguistics  
from  that  of  other  linguists  who  are  concerned  chiefly  with  linguistic  forms.  
Historically,  the  study  of  linguistics,  he  points  out  (1994:  xiv),  first  involved  
studying  the  way  the  language  was  put  together  (syntax  and  morphology)  
followed  by  the  study  of  meaning.  In  his  view,  however,  the  reverse  approach  is  
more  useful.  As  he  puts  it,  ‘A  language  is  interpreted  as  a  system  of  meanings,  
accompanied  by  forms  through  which  the  meanings  can  be  expressed’  (emphasis  
mine).  
   
So  one  way  you  can  begin  to  make  sense  of  the  list  of  words  above  is  to  consider  
them  as  a  series  of  choices.  In  other  words,  I  wrote  ‘Milk’  instead  of  ‘Juice’  and  
‘Spaghetti’  instead  of  ‘Linguini’.  There  must  be  some  reason  for  this.  You  will  still  
probably  not  be  able  to  recognize  this  as  a  text  because  you  do  not  have  any  
understanding  of  what  motivated  these  choices  (why  I  wrote  down  these  
particular  words)  and  the  relationship  between  one  set  of  choices  (e.g.  ‘Milk’  vs.  
‘Juice’)  and  another.  
   
It  is  these  two  pieces  of  missing  information  –  the  context  of  these  choices  and  
the  relationships  between  them  –  which  form  the  basis  for  what  we  will  be  calling  
texture  –  that  quality  that  makes  a  particular  set  of  words  or  sentences  a  text,  
rather  than  a  random  collection  of  linguistic  items.  A  language  speaker’s  ‘ability  
to  discriminate  between  a  random  string  of  sentences  and  one  forming  a  
discourse,’  Halliday  explains,  ‘is  due  to  the  inherent  texture  in  the  language  and  
to  his  awareness  of  it’  (Halliday  1968:210).  According  to  this  formulation,  there  

  6  
are  two  important  things  that  make  a  text  a  text.  One  has  to  do  with  features  
inherent  in  the  language  itself  (things,  for  example,  like  grammatical  ‘rules’),  
which  help  us  to  understand  the  relationship  among  the  different  words  and  
sentences  and  other  elements  in  the  text.  It  is  these  features  that  help  you  to  
figure  out  the  relationship  between  the  various  sets  of  choices  (either  lexical  or  
grammatical)  that  you  encounter.  The  problem  with  the  text  above  is  that  there  
is  not  much  in  the  language  itself  that  helps  you  to  do  this.  There  are,  however,  
two  very  basic  things  that  help  you  to  establish  a  connection  among  these  words.  
The  first  is  the  fact  that  they  appear  in  a  list—they  come  one  after  another.  This  
very  fact  helps  to  connect  them  together  because  you  automatically  think  that  
they  would  not  have  been  put  together  in  the  same  list  if  they  did  not  have  
something  to  do  with  one  another.  
   
Another  ‘internal’  thing  that  holds  these  words  together  as  a  potential  text  is  that  
they  are  similar;  with  the  exception  of  ‘Light  bulbs’,  they  all  belong  to  the  same  
semantic  field  (i.e.  words  having  to  do  with  food).  In  fact,  It  is  because  of  words  
like  ‘Milk”  and  ‘  Tomatoes’  that  you  are  able  to  infer  that  what  is  meant  by  the  
word  ‘  Rocket’  is  ‘  rocket  lettuce’  (or  arugula)  rather  than  the  kind  of  rocket  that  
shoots  satellites  into  space.  This  semantic  relationship  among  the  words,  
however,  is  probably  still  not  enough  for  you  to  make  sense  of  this  list  as  a  text  
as  long  as  you  are  relying  only  on  features  that  are  intrinsic  to  the  language.  The  
reason  for  this  is  that  there  are  no  grammatical  elements  that  join  these  words  
together.  It  would  be  much  easier  for  you  to  understand  the  relationship  among  
these  words  if  they  appeared  in  a  conversation  like  this:  
   
A:  What  do  we  need  to  get  at  the  shop?  
B:  Well,  we  need  some  milk.  And  I  want  to  make  a  salad,  so  let’s  get  some  
tomatoes  and  rocket.  And,  oh  yeah,  the  light  bulb  in  the  living  room  is  
burnt  out.  We’d  better  get  some  new  ones.  
   
In  this  conversation,  the  relationships  between  the  different  words  is  much  
clearer  because  new  words  have  been  added.  One  important  word  that  joins  
these  words  together  is  ‘and’,  which  creates  an  additive  relationship  among  
them,  indicating  that  they  are  all  part  of  a  cumulative  list.  Other  important  words  
are  ‘we’  and  ‘need’.  The  verb  ‘need’  connects  the  things  in  the  list  to  some  kind  of  
action  that  is  associated  with  them,  and  the  word  ‘we’  connects  them  to  some  
people  who  are  also  involved  in  this  action.  
   
This  second  part  of  Halliday’s  formulation  has  to  do  with  something  that  cannot  
be  found  in  the  language  itself,  but  rather  exists  inside  the  minds  of  the  people  
who  are  perceiving  the  text,  what  Halliday  calls  an  awareness  of  the  conventions  
of  the  language  (and,  by  extension,  broader  conventions  of  communication  in  a  
given  society)  which  helps  us  to  work  out  the  relationships  among  words,  
sentences,  paragraphs,  pictures  and  other  textual  elements,  as  well  as  
relationships  between  these  combinations  of  textual  elements  and  certain  social  
situations  or  communicative  purposes.  These  conventions  give  us  a  kind  of  
‘framework’  within  which  we  can  fit  the  language.  The  framework  for  the  text  
above,  for  example,  is  ‘a  shopping  list’.  As  soon  as  you  have  that  framework,  this  
list  of  words  makes  perfect  sense  as  a  text.  In  fact,  you  do  not  even  need  to  refer  

  7  
back  to  the  conversation  above  to  understand  what  the  text  means  and  how  it  
will  be  used.  All  of  the  information  about  what  people  do  with  shopping  lists  is  
already  part  of  your  common  knowledge  (the  knowledge  you  share  with  other  
people  in  society).  
   
There  is  still  one  more  thing  that  helps  you  to  make  sense  of  this  as  a  text,  and  
that  has  to  do  with  the  connections  that  exist  between  this  particular  collection  
of  words  and  other  texts  that  exist  outside  of  it.  For  example,  this  text  might  be  
related  to  the  conversation  above.  In  fact,  it  might  be  the  result  of  that  
conversation:  ‘A’  might  have  written  down  this  list  as  ‘B’  dictated  it  to  him  or  her.  
It  might  also  be  related  to  other  texts,  like  a  recipe  for  rocket  salad  ‘B’  found  in  a  
cookbook.  Finally,  when  A  and  B  go  to  the  supermarket,  they  will  connect  this  
text  to  still  other  texts  like  signs  advertising  the  price  of  tomatoes  or  the  label  on  
the  milk  carton  telling  them  the  expiry  date.  In  other  words,  all  texts  are  
somehow  related  to  other  texts,  and  sometimes,  in  order  to  make  sense  of  them  
or  use  them  to  perform  social  actions,  you  need  to  make  reference  to  these  other  
texts.  
   
To  sum  up,  the  main  thing  that  makes  a  text  a  text  is  relationships  or  connections.  
Sometimes  these  relationships  are  between  words,  sentences  or  other  elements  
inside  the  text.  These  kinds  of  relationships  create  what  we  refer  to  as  cohesion.  
Another  kind  of  relationship  exists  between  the  text  and  the  person  who  is  
reading  it  or  using  it  in  some  way.  Here,  meaning  comes  chiefly  from  the  
background  knowledge  the  person  has  about  certain  social  conventions  
regarding  texts  as  well  as  the  social  situation  in  which  the  text  is  found  and  what  
the  person  wants  to  do  with  the  text.  This  kind  of  relationship  creates  what  we  
call  coherence.  Finally,  there  is  the  relationship  between  one  text  and  other  texts  
in  the  world  that  one  might,  at  some  point,  need  to  refer  to  in  the  process  of  
making  sense  of  this  text.  This  kind  of  relationship  creates  what  we  call  
intertextuality.  

  8  
A3  TEXTS  AND  THEIR  SOCIAL  FUNCTIONS  
 
In  the  previous  section  we  talked  about  how  the  internal  structure  of  a  text  and  
the  expectations  we  as  readers  have  about  it  contribute  to  a  text’s  texture.  In  this  
section  we  will  explore  how  the  structures  and  expectations  associated  with  
different  kinds  of  texts  contribute  to  how  they  function  in  the  social  world  –  how  
they  help  to  define  social  activities  and  the  groups  of  people  who  take  part  in  
them.  
 
Different  patterns  of  texture  are  associated  with  different  types  of  texts.  
Newspaper  articles,  for  example,  tend  to  favor  particular  kinds  of  cohesive  
devices  and  are  structured  in  a  conventional  way  with  a  summary  of  the  main  
points  in  the  beginning  and  with  the  details  coming  later  (see  Section  C2).  To  
understand  why  such  textual  conventions  are  associated  with  this  type  of  text,  
however,  we  need  to  understand  something  about  the  people  who  produce  and  
consume  it  and  what  they  are  doing  with  it.  The  study  of  the  social  functions  of  
different  kinds  of  texts  is  called  genre  analysis.    
 
The  notion  of  genre  is  probably  familiar  to  you  from  your  experience  as  a  
moviegoer.  Different  films  belong  to  different  genres:  there  are  westerns,  love  
stories,  horror  movies,  thrillers,  ‘chick  flicks’  and  many  other  film  genres.  Before  
we  go  to  the  movies,  we  always  have  some  idea  about  the  film  we  are  about  to  
see  based  on  the  genre  that  it  belongs  to.  These  expectations  include  not  just  
ideas  about  the  kind  of  story  the  film  will  tell  and  the  kinds  of  characters  it  will  
include,  but  also  ideas  about  things  like  cinematography,  lighting,  special  effects  
and  other  filming  techniques.  At  the  same  time,  of  course,  not  all  films  fit  neatly  
into  genres.  We  might  go  to  a  film  called  Scary  Movie  and  find  that  it  is  actually  a  
comedy,  or  we  might  expect  a  film  like  Brokeback  Mountain,  whose  poster  
portrays  cowboys,  to  be  a  western,  only  to  find  that  it  is  also  a  love  story.  In  fact,  
one  thing  that  makes  such  films  so  successful  is  that  they  creatively  confound  our  
expectations  by  mixing  different  genres  together.    
 
The  notion  of  genre  in  discourse  analysis  goes  beyond  examining  the  
conventional  structures  and  features  of  different  kinds  of  texts  to  asking  what  
these  structures  and  features  can  tell  us  about  the  people  who  use  the  texts  and  
what  they  are  using  them  to  do.  In  his  book  Analyzing  Genre,  Vijay  Bhatia,  
drawing  on  the  work  of  John  Swales,  defines  genre  as  follows:    
 
(A  genre  is)  a  recognizable  communicative  event  characterized  by  a  set  of  
communicative  purposes  identified  and  mutually  understood  by  members  
of  the  community  in  which  it  occurs.  Most  often  it  is  highly  structured  and  
conventionalized  with  constraints  on  allowable  contributions  in  terms  of  
their  intent,  positioning,  form  and  functional  value.    These  constraints,  
however,  are  often  exploited  by  expert  members  of  the  discourse  
community  to  achieve  private  intentions  within  the  framework  of  the  
socially  recognized  purpose(s).  (Bhatia  1993:13,  emphasis  mine)  
 

  9  
There  are  three  important  aspects  to  this  definition  which  need  to  be  further  
explained:  first,  that  genres  are  not  defined  as  types  of  texts  but  rather  as  types  
of  communicative  events;  second,  that  these  events  are  characterized  by  
constraints  on  what  can  and  cannot  be  done  within  them;  and  third,  that  expert  
users  often  exploit  these  constraints  in  creative  and  unexpected  ways.    

 
Genres  are  communicative  events  
 
While  it  might  not  seem  unusual  to  refer  to  spoken  genres  like  conversations  and  
debates  and  political  speeches  as  ‘events’,  thinking  of  written  texts  like  
newspaper  articles,  recipes  and  job  application  letters  as  ‘events’  might  at  first  
seem  rather  strange.  We  are  in  many  ways  accustomed  to  thinking  of  texts  as  
‘objects’.  Seeing  them  as  ‘events’,  however,  highlights  the  fact  that  all  texts  are  
basically  instances  of  people  doing  things  with  or  to  other  people:  a  newspaper  
article  is  an  instance  of  someone  informing  someone  else  about  some  recent  
event;  a  recipe  is  an  instance  of  someone  instructing  another  person  how  to  
prepare  a  particular  kind  of  food;  and  a  job  application  letter  is  an  instance  of  
someone  requesting  that  another  person  give  him  or  her  a  job.  As  Martin  (1985:  
250)  points  out,  ‘genres  are  how  things  get  done,  when  language  is  used  to  
accomplish  them.’  Thus,  the  ways  different  kinds  of  texts  are  put  together  is  
inseparable  from  the  things  the  text  is  trying  to  ‘get  done’  in  a  particular  
historical,  cultural  and  social  context.    
 
Of  course,  most  texts  are  not  just  trying  to  get  only  one  thing  done.  The  
communicative  purposes  of  texts  are  often  multiple  and  complex.  A  recipe,  for  
example,  may  be  persuading  you  to  make  a  certain  dish  (or  to  buy  a  certain  
product  with  which  to  make  it)  as  much  as  it  is  instructing  you  how  to  do  it,  and  a  
newspaper  article  might  be  attempting  not  just  to  inform  you  about  a  particular  
event,  but  also  to  somehow  affect  your  opinion  about  it.  The  different  people  
using  the  text  might  also  have  different  purposes  in  mind:  while  a  job  applicant  
sees  his  or  her  application  letter  as  a  way  to  convince  a  prospective  employer  to  
hire  him  or  her,  the  employer  might  see  the  very  same  application  letter  as  a  
means  of  ‘weeding  out’  unsuitable  candidates.    
 

Conventions  and  Constraints  

 
Because  genres  are  about  ‘getting  things  done’,  the  way  they  are  structured  and  
the  kinds  of  features  they  contain  are  largely  determined  by  what  people  want  to  
do  with  them.  The  kinds  of  information  I  might  include  in  a  job  application,  for  
example,  would  be  designed  to  convince  a  prospective  employer  that  I  am  the  
right  person  for  the  job.  This  information  would  probably  not  include  my  recipe  
for  chocolate  brownies  or  my  opinion  about  some  event  I  read  about  in  a  
newspaper.  Genres,  therefore,  come  with  ‘built-­‐in’  constraints  as  to  what  kinds  of  
things  they  can  include  and  what  kinds  of  things  they  cannot,  based  on  the  
activity  they  are  trying  to  accomplish.    
 
These  constraints  govern  not  just  what  can  be  included,  but  also  how  it  should  be  
included.  In  my  job  application  letter,  for  example,  I  would  probably  want  to  

  10  
present  the  information  in  a  certain  order,  beginning  by  indicating  the  post  I  am  
applying  for,  and  then  going  on  to  describe  my  qualifications  and  experience,  and  
ending  by  requesting  an  appointment  for  an  interview.  Putting  this  information  
in  a  different  order,  for  example,  waiting  until  the  end  of  the  letter  to  indicate  the  
post  for  which  I  am  applying,  would  be  considered  odd.    
 
The  order  in  which  I  do  things  in  a  genre,  what  in  genre  analysis  is  called  the  
‘move  structure’  of  a  particular  genre,  often  determines  how  successfully  I  am  
able  to  fulfill  the  communicative  purpose  of  the  genre.  Stating  which  post  I  am  
applying  for  at  the  beginning  of  my  job  application  letter  is  a  more  efficient  way  
of  introducing  the  letter  because  it  helps  to  create  a  framework  for  the  
information  that  comes  later.    
 
But  what  is  important  about  these  conventions  and  constraints  is  not  just  that  
they  make  communicative  events  more  efficient,  but  also  that  they  demonstrate  
that  the  person  who  produced  the  text  knows  ‘how  we  do  things’.  Prospective  
employers  read  application  letters  not  just  to  find  out  what  post  an  applicant  is  
applying  for  and  what  qualifications  or  experience  that  person  has,  but  also  to  
find  out  if  that  person  knows  how  to  write  a  job  application  letter.  In  other  
words,  the  ability  to  successfully  produce  this  type  of  genre  following  particular  
conventions  is  taken  as  an  indication  that  the  writer  is  a  ‘certain  kind  of  person’  
with  a  certain  level  of  education  who  ‘knows  how  to  communicate  like  us’.  In  
fact,  for  some  employers,  the  qualifications  that  applicants  demonstrate  through  
successfully  producing  this  genre  are  far  more  important  than  those  they  
describe  in  the  letter  itself.    

 
Creativity  
 
That  is  not  to  say  that  all  job  application  letters,  or  other  genres  like  newspaper  
articles  and  recipes,  are  always  exactly  the  same.  As  the  directors  of  the  ‘hybrid’  
films  described  above  can  tell  us,  often  the  most  successful  texts  are  those  which  
break  the  rules,  defy  conventions  and  push  the  boundaries  of  constraints.  Expert  
producers  of  texts,  for  example,  sometimes  mix  different  kinds  of  texts  together,  
or  embed  one  genre  into  another,  or  alter  in  some  way  the  moves  that  are  
included  or  the  order  in  which  they  are  presented.  Of  course,  there  are  
limitations  to  how  much  a  genre  can  be  altered  and  still  be  successful  at  
accomplishing  what  its  producers  want  to  accomplish.  There  are  always  risks  
associated  with  being  creative.    
 
There  are  several  important  points  to  be  made  here.  The  first  is  that  such  
creativity  would  not  be  possible  without  the  existence  of  conventions  and  
constraints,  and  the  reason  innovations  can  be  effective  is  that  they  ‘play  off’  or  
exploit  previously  formed  expectations.  The  second  is  that  such  creativity  must  
itself  have  some  relationship  to  the  communicative  purpose  of  the  genre  and  the  
context  in  which  it  is  used.  Writing  a  job  application  letter  in  the  form  of  a  
sonnet,  for  example,  may  be  more  effective  if  I  want  to  get  a  job  as  an  editor  at  a  
literary  magazine  than  if  I  want  to  get  a  job  as  a  software  engineer.  Finally,  being  
able  to  successfully  ‘bend’  and  ‘blend’  genres  is  very  much  a  matter  of  and  a  

  11  
marker  of  expertise:  in  order  to  break  the  rules  effectively,  you  must  also  be  able  
to  show  that  you  have  mastered  the  rules.      
 

Discourse  Communities  
 
It  should  be  clear  by  now  that  at  the  center  of  the  concept  of  genre  is  the  idea  of  
belonging.  We  produce  and  use  genres  not  just  in  order  to  get  things  done,  but  
also  to  show  ourselves  to  be  members  of  particular  groups  and  to  demonstrate  
that  we  are  qualified  to  participate  in  particular  activities.    Genres  are  always  
associated  with  certain  groups  of  people  that  have  certain  common  goals  and  
common  ways  of  reaching  these  goals.  Doctors  use  medical  charts  and  
prescriptions  to  do  the  work  of  curing  people.  Solicitors  use  contracts  and  legal  
briefs  to  defend  people’s  rights.    As  a  student,  you  and  your  teachers  use  things  
like  textbooks,  handouts,  PowerPoint  presentations  and  examinations  to  
accomplish  the  tasks  of  teaching  and  learning.  These  different  genres  not  only  
help  the  people  in  these  groups  get  certain  things  done;  they  also  help  to  define  
these  groups,  to  keep  out  people  who  do  not  belong  in  them,  and  to  regulate  the  
relationships  between  the  people  who  do  belong.    
 
John  Swales  calls  these  groups  discourse  communities.  In  the  excerpt  from  his  
book  Genre  Analysis  (1990)  which  is  included  in  Section  D3,  he  describes  a  
number  of  features  that  define  discourse  communities,  among  which  are  that  
they  consist  of  ‘expert’  members  whose  job  it  is  to  socialize  new  members  into  
‘how  things  are  done’,  that  members  have  ways  of  regularly  communicating  with  
and  providing  feedback  to  one  another,  and  that  members  tend  to  share  a  certain  
vocabulary  or  ‘jargon’.  The  two  most  important  characteristics  of  discourse  
communities  are  that  members  have  common  goals  and  common  means  of  
reaching  those  goals  (genres).  These  goals  and  the  means  of  reaching  them  work  
to  reinforce  each  other.  Every  time  a  member  makes  use  of  a  particular  genre,  he  
or  she  not  only  moves  the  group  closer  to  the  shared  goals,  but  also  validates  
these  goals  as  worthy  and  legitimate  and  shows  him  or  herself  to  be  a  worthy  
and  legitimate  member  of  the  group.      
 
Thus,  genres  not  only  link  people  together,  they  also  link  people  with  certain  
activities,  identities,  roles  and  responsibilities.  In  a  very  real  way,  then,  genres  
help  to  regulate  and  control  what  people  can  do  and  who  people  can’  be’  in  
various  contexts  (see  Section  A8).    
 
This  regulation  and  control  is  exercised  in  a  number  of  ways.  First  of  all,  since  
the  goals  of  the  community  and  the  ways  those  goals  are  to  be  accomplished  are  
‘built-­‐in’  to  the  texts  that  members  of  a  discourse  community  use  on  a  daily  basis,  
it  becomes  much  more  difficult  to  question  those  goals.  Since  mastery  of  the  
genre  is  a  requirement  for  membership,  members  must  also  ‘buy  in’  to  the  goals  
of  the  community.  Finally,  since  texts  always  create  certain  kinds  of  relationships  
between  those  who  have  produced  them  and  those  who  are  using  them,  when  
the  conventions  and  constraints  associated  with  texts  become  fixed  and  difficult  
to  change,  these  roles  and  relationships  also  become  fixed  and  difficult  to  change.  
When  looked  at  in  this  way,  genres  are  not  just  ‘text  types’  that  are  structured  in  

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certain  ways  and  contain  certain  linguistic  features;  they  are  important  tools  
through  which  people,  groups  and  institutions  define,  organize  and  structure  
social  reality.    
 
  Look  deeper  into  this  topic  online  
 

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A4  DISCOURSE  AND  IDEOLOGY  
 
In  the  last  two  sections  we  looked  at  the  ways  texts  are  structured  and  the  social  
functions  they  fulfill  for  different  groups  of  people.  In  this  section  we  will  
examine  how  texts  promote  certain  points  of  view  or  versions  of  reality.  We  will  
focus  on  four  things:  1)  the  ways  authors  create  ’versions  of  reality’  based  on  
their  choice  of  words  and  how  they  combine  words  together;  2)  the  ways  
authors  construct  certain  kinds  of  relationships  between  themselves  and  their  
readers;  3)  the  ways  authors  appropriate  the  words  of  other  people  and  how  
they  represent  those  words;  and  4)  the  ways  authors  of  texts  draw  upon  and  
reinforce  the  larger  systems  of  belief  and  knowledge  that  govern  what  counts  as  
right  or  wrong,  good  or  bad,  and  normal  or  abnormal  in  a  particular  society,  
systems  which  we  referred  to  earlier  as  ‘capital  D  Discourses’.    
 
Whether  we  are  aware  of  it  our  not,  our  words  are  never  neutral.  They  always  
represent  the  world  in  a  certain  way  and  create  certain  kinds  of  relationships  
with  the  people  with  whom  we  are  communicating.  For  this  reason,  texts  always  
to  some  degree  promote  a  particular  ideology.  What  I  mean  by  an  ideology  is  a  
specific  set  of  beliefs  and  assumptions  people  have  about  things  like  what  is  good  
and  bad,  what  is  right  and  wrong,  and  what  is  normal  and  abnormal.  Ideologies  
provide  us  with  models  of  how  the  world  is  ‘supposed  to  be’.  In  some  respects  
ideologies  help  to  create  a  shared  worldview  and  sense  of  purpose  among  people  
in  a  particular  group.  On  the  other  hand,  ideologies  also  limit  the  way  we  look  at  
reality  and  tend  to  marginalize  or  exclude  altogether  people,  things  and  ideas  
that  do  not  fit  into  these  models.    
 
All  texts,  even  those  that  seem  rather  innocuous  or  banal,  somehow  involve  
these  systems  of  inclusion  and  exclusion.  Often  when  you  fill  out  a  form,  like  a  
university  application  form,  for  example,  or  an  application  for  a  driver’s  license,  
you  are  asked  to  indicate  whether  you  are  married  or  single.  One  thing  that  this  
question  does  is  reinforce  the  idea  that  your  marital  status  is  an  important  
aspect  of  your  identity  (although  it  may  have  very  little  bearing  on  whether  or  
not  you  are  qualified  to  either  study  in  university  or  drive  a  car).  Another  thing  it  
does  is  limit  this  aspect  of  your  identity  to  one  of  only  two  choices.  Other  choices  
like  divorced,  widowed  or  in  a  civil  partnership  are  often  not  offered,  nor  are  
choices  having  to  do  with  other  important  relationships  in  your  life,  like  your  
relationships  with  your  parents  or  your  siblings.  In  China,  such  forms  often  ask  
this  question  slightly  differently,  offering  the  categories  of  結婚 (‘married’)  or  未
婚  (‘single’,  or  literally  ‘not  yet  married’).  These  two  choices  not  only  exclude  
people  in  the  kinds  of  relationships  mentioned  above  but  also  people  like  
Buddhist  monks  and  ‘confirmed  bachelors’  who  have  no  intention  of  getting  
married.  They  also  promote  the  idea  that  being  married  is  somehow  the  ‘natural’  
or  ‘normal’  state  of  affairs.  
 
In  such  cases,  it  is  fair  to  ask  how  much  you  are  answering  questions  about  
yourself,  and  how  much  the  forms  themselves  are  constructing  you  as  a  certain  

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kind  of  person  by  enabling  some  choices  and  constraining  others.  In  other  words,  
are  you  filling  out  the  form,  or  is  the  form  filling  out  you?  
 
In  this  strand  we  will  explore  ways  in  which  people  construct  these  systems  of  
inclusion  and  exclusion  in  texts,  and  the  ways  they  use  them  to  promote  certain  
versions  of  reality  and  to  create  or  reinforce  in  readers  certain  beliefs.  
 

‘Whos  Doing  Whats’  

 
The  linguist  Michael  Halliday  (1994)  pointed  out  that  whenever  we  use  language  
we  are  always  doing  three  things  at  once:  we  are  in  some  way  representing  the  
world:  which  he  called  the  ideational  function1  of  language;  we  are  creating,  
ratifying  or  negotiating  our  relationships  with  the  people  with  whom  we  are  
communicating,  which  he  called  the  interpersonal  function  of  language,  and  we  
are  joining  sentences  and  ideas  together  in  particular  ways  to  form  cohesive  and  
coherent  texts,  which  he  called  the  textual  function  of  language.  All  of  these  
functions  play  a  role  in  the  way  a  text  promotes  a  particular  ideology  or  
worldview.  In  Section  A2  we  looked  at  the  textual  function,  discussing  how  
different  ways  of  connecting  ideas  together  and  of  structuring  them  based  on  
larger  sets  of  expectations  help  us  to  make  sense  of  texts,  but  can  also  reinforce  
certain  assumptions  about  people,  things  and  ideas  and  how  they  are  linked  
together  (see  Section  B2).    In  this  section  we  will  be  focusing  more  on  the  
ideational  and  the  interpersonal  functions  of  language.    
 
According  to  Halliday,  we  represent  the  world  through  language  by  choosing  
words  that  represent  people,  things  or  concepts  (participants),  and  words  about  
what  these  participants  are  doing  to,  with  or  for  one  another  (processes).  All  texts  
contain  these  two  elements:  participants  and  processes.  James  Paul  Gee  (2011)  
calls  them  ‘whos  doing  whats’.    
 
Rather  than  talking  about  texts  representing  reality,  however,  it  might  be  better  
to  talk  about  texts  ‘constructing’  reality,  since,  depending  on  the  words  they  
choose  to  represent  the  ‘whos  doing  whats’  in  a  particular  situation,  people  can  
create  very  different  impressions  of  what  is  going  on.  First  of  all,  we  might  
choose  different  words  to  represent  the  same  kinds  of  participant.  In  traditional  
church  wedding  ceremonies  in  many  places,  for  example,  the  convener  of  the  
ceremony  (often  a  priest  or  a  minister),  after  the  couple  have  taken  their  vows,  
will  pronounce  them  ‘man  and  wife’.  By  using  different  kinds  of  words  to  
describe  the  groom  and  the  bride,  this  utterance  portrays  them  as  two  different  
kinds  of  beings,  and  as  fundamentally  unequal.  This  choice  of  words  gives  to  the  
‘man’  an  independent  identity,  but  makes  the  woman’s  (the  ‘wife’s’)  identity  
contingent  on  her  relationship  to  the  man.  Nowadays,  many  churches  have  

                                                                                                               
1  Halliday  uses  the  term  ‘metafunctions’  to  distinguish  these  three  fundamental  functions  from  
more  secondary  functions  of  language.  I  will  refer  to  these  ‘metafunctiuons’  simply  as  functions.    

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changed  their  liturgies  to  make  this  ‘I  now  pronounce  you  husband  and  wife’  in  
order  to  present  the  two  individuals  as  more  equal.2    
 
The  words  we  use  for  processes  and  how  we  use  them  to  link  participants  
together  can  also  create  different  impressions  of  what  is  going  on.  One  of  the  key  
things  about  processes  is  that  they  always  construct  a  certain  kind  of  relationship  
between  participants.  Halliday  calls  this  relationship  transitivity.  An  important  
aspect  of  transitivity  when  it  comes  to  ideology  has  to  do  with  which  participants  
are  portrayed  as  performing  actions  and  which  are  portrayed  as  having  actions  
done  to  or  for  them.  In  the  same  kinds  of  traditional  church  weddings  described  
above,  after  pronouncing  the  couple  ‘man  and  wife’  the  convener  might  turn  to  
the  man  and  say,  ‘you  may  now  kiss  the  bride.’  Anyone  who  has  attended  such  a  
wedding  knows  that  this  sentence  is  usually  not  an  accurate  description  of  what  
happens  next:  it  is  not  just  the  groom  who  kisses  the  bride;  the  bride  also  kisses  
the  groom;  they  kiss  each  other.  Rather,  it  as  an  ideological  interpretation  of  
what  happens.  Making  the  male  participant  the  actor  in  the  process  (kissing)  
constructs  him  as  the  person  ‘in  charge’  of  the  situation,  and  the  woman  as  a  
passive  recipient  of  his  kiss,  thus  reinforcing  many  assumptions  about  the  roles  
of  men  and  women,  especially  in  romantic  and  sexual  relationships,  which  are  
still  deeply  held  in  some  societies.  As  with  the  statement  ’I  now  pronounce  you  
man  and  wife’,  in  many  places  this  has  changed  in  recent  years,  with  the  couple  
either  simply  kissing  after  the  declaration  of  marriage  or  the  officiant  saying  
something  like  ‘you  may  now  kiss  each  other.’    
 

Relationships  
 
Another  important  way  texts  promote  ideology  is  in  the  relationships  they  create  
between  the  people  who  are  communicating  and  between  communicators  and  
what  they  are  communicating  about,  what  Halliday  calls  the  interpersonal  
function  of  language.  We  construct  relationships  through  words  we  choose  to  
express  things  like  certainty  and  obligation  (known  as  the  system  of  modality  in  
a  language).  The  traditional  priest  or  minister  described  above,  for  example,  
typically  says  ‘you  may  now  kiss  the  bride,’  rather  than  ‘kiss  the  bride!’,  
constructing  the  action  as  a  matter  of  permission  rather  than  obligation  and  
constructing  himself  or  herself  as  someone  who,  while  having  a  certain  power  
over  the  participants,  is  there  to  assist  them  in  doing  what  they  want  to  do  rather  
than  to  force  them  to  do  things  they  do  not  want  to  do.    
 
Another  way  we  use  language  to  construct  relationships  is  through  the  style  of  
speaking  or  writing  that  we  choose.  To  take  the  example  of  the  convener  of  the  
wedding  ceremony  again,  he  or  she  says,  ‘you  many  now  kiss  the  bride,’  rather  
than  something  like  ‘why  don’t  you  give  her  a  kiss!’  This  use  of  more  formal  
language  helps  create  a  relationship  of  respectful  distance  between  the  couple  

                                                                                                               
2
 The  liturgy  of  the  Church  of  England  still  retains  the  traditional  form.  When  Prince  William  
married  Kate  Middleton  in  2011,  the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury  said:  ‘I  pronounce  that  they  be  
man  and  wife  together,  in  the  name  of  the  Father,  and  of  the  Son,  and  of  the  Holy  Ghost.’    
 

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and  the  officiant  and  maintains  an  air  of  seriousness  in  the  occasion.  The  Russian  
literary  critic  Mikhail  Bakhtin  calls  these  different  styles  of  speaking  and  writing  
‘social  languages’,  a  term  which  is  also  used  by  James  Paul  Gee  (see  Section  D4).    
Bakhtin  defines  them  as  ‘social  dialects,  characteristic  group  behavior,  
professional  jargons,  generic  languages,  languages  of  generations  and  age  
groups,  tendentious  languages,  languages  of  the  authorities  of  various  circles  and  
of  passing  fashions,  languages  that  serve  the  specific  sociopolitical  purposes  of  
the  day’  (1981,  p.  262).  
 
Halliday  is  more  likely  to  see  degrees  of  ‘formality’  in  language  as  a  matter  of  
what  he  calls  register,  the  different  ways  we  use  language  in  different  situations  
depending  on  the  topic  we  are  communicating  about,  the  people  with  whom  we  
are  communicating,  and  the  channel  through  which  we  are  communicating  (e.g.  
formal  writing,  instant  messaging,  face-­‐to-­‐face  conversation)  (see  Section  A7).      
Like  genres,  social  languages  (or  registers)  tend  to  link  us  to  different  groups  and  
communicate  that  we  are  ‘certain  kinds  of  people’.  They  also  show  something  
about  the  relationships  we  have  with  the  people  with  whom  we  are  
communicating.  Most  people,  for  instance,  use  a  different  social  language  when  
they  are  talking  or  writing  to  their  boss  than  when  they  are  talking  or  writing  to  
their  peers.    
 

Intertextuality  
 
As  we  have  mentioned  before,  texts  often  refer  to  or  somehow  depend  for  their  
meaning  on  other  texts.  We  called  the  relationship  texts  create  with  other  texts  
intertextuality,  and  intertextuality  is  another  important  way  ideologies  are  
promoted  in  discourse.    
 
According  to  Bakhtin,  all  texts  involve  some  degree  of  intertextuality.  We  cannot  
speak  or  write,  he  argues,  without  borrowing  the  words  and  ideas  of  other  
people,  and  nearly  everything  we  say  or  write  is  in  some  way  a  response  to  some  
previous  utterance  or  text  and  an  anticipation  of  some  future  one.    
When  we  appropriate  the  words  and  ideas  of  others  in  our  texts  and  utterances,  
we  almost  always  end  up  communicating  how  we  think  about  those  words  and  
ideas  (and  the  people  who  have  said  or  written  them)  in  the  way  we  represent  
them.  We  might,  for  example,  quote  them  verbatim,  paraphrase  them,  or  refer  to  
them  in  an  indirect  way,  and  we  might  characterize  them  in  certain  ways  using  
different  ‘reporting’  words  like  ‘said,’  or  ‘insisted,’  or  ‘claimed.’    
In  the  1980s  the  British  singer  Sir  Elton  John  sang  a  song  called  ‘Kiss  the  Bride’  
which  contained  the  following  lyrics:    
 
I  wanna  kiss  the  bride  yeah!  
I  wanna  kiss  the  bride  yeah!  
Long  before  she  met  him  
She  was  mine,  mine,  mine.  
 
In  the  ‘version  of  reality’  constructed  by  this  song,  the  words  ‘I  wanna  kiss  the  
bride’  seemingly  arise  in  response  to  the  convener  of  a  marriage  ceremony  

  17  
saying  to  the  groom  ‘you  may  now  kiss  the  bride.’  While  the  singer  appropriates  
verbatim  the  words  of  the  convener,  by  positioning  himself  as  the  ‘kisser’  of  a  
bride  who  is  not  ‘his’,  he  transforms  these  words,  using  them  to  undermine  
rather  than  ratify  the  marriage  that  is  being  performed.    
 
Intertextuality  does  not  just  involve  mixing  other  people’s  words  with  ours.  It  
can  also  involve  mixing  genres  (see  Section  A3)  and  mixing  social  languages.  In  
the  excerpt  from  James  Gee  reprinted  in  Section  D4,  for  example,  he  examines  
how  the  authors  of  the  label  on  an  aspirin  bottle  mix  together  different  social  
languages.    
 

Discourses  
 
It  should  be  quite  clear  by  now  that  even  a  seemingly  innocent  phrase  like  ‘you  
may  now  kiss  the  bride’  can  be  seen  as  ideological.  That  is  to  say,  it  promotes  
what  Gee  calls  a  set  of  ‘frozen  theories’  or  generalizations  about  the  world,  in  this  
case  generalizations  about  brides  and  grooms  and  men  and  women  and  how  
they  are  supposed  to  act  in  the  context  of  marriage.  Gee  calls  these  frozen  
theories  ‘cultural  models’  (see  Section  B2).  ‘Cultural  models’  are  sets  of  
expectation  that  we  have  about  how  different  kinds  of  people  should  behave  and  
communicate  in  different  situations.  They  serve  an  important  role  in  helping  us  
make  sense  of  the  texts  and  the  situations  that  we  encounter  in  our  lives.  At  the  
same  time,  however,  they  also  function  to  exclude  certain  people  or  certain  ways  
of  behaving  from  our  consideration.    
 
Cultural  models  are  not  random  and  free  floating.  They  are  parts  of  larger  
systems  of  knowledge,  values  and  social  relationships  that  grow  up  within  
societies  and  cultures  which  Gee  calls  ‘capital  D  Discourses.’  Other  people  have  
used  different  terms.  The  French  philosopher  Michel  Foucault  calls  these  
systems  ‘orders  of  discourse’,  and  gives  as  examples  things  like  ‘clinical  
discourse,  economic  discourse,  the  discourse  of  natural  history,  psychiatric  
discourse’  (1972:  121).    
 
The  phrase  ‘you  may  now  kiss  the  bride,’  then,  does  not  just  enforce  a  theory  
about  how  brides  and  grooms  are  supposed  to  act  during  a  marriage  ceremony,  
but  also  invokes  broader  theories  about  marriage  gender  relations,  love,  sex,  
morality  and  economics.  All  of  these  theories  are  part  of  a  system  of  discourse  
which  we  might  call  the  ‘Discourse  of  marriage’.    
 
According  to  Foucault,  ‘Discourses’  can  exert  a  tremendous  power  over  us  by  
creating  constraints  regarding  how  certain  things  can  be  talked  about  and  what  
counts  as  ‘knowledge’  in  particular  contexts.  At  the  same  time,  it  is  also  
important  to  remember  that  Discourses  are  complex  and  often  contain  internal  
contradictions.  They  also  change  over  time.  In  pre  19th  century  Europe,  for  
example,  the  strongest  values  promoted  in  the  Discourse  of  marriage  were  those  
of  duty  and  commitment.  Most  marriages  were  arranged  and  divorce  was  illegal  
in  many  countries.  The  contemporary  Discourse  of  marriage  in  Europe  and  many  
other  places  has  changed  considerably,  emphasizing  more  the  values  of  love  and  

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personal  fulfillment,  which  is  not  to  say  that  the  previous  ideas  of  duty  and  
commitment  are  no  longer  important.  Because  of  the  rich  and  fluid  nature  of  
Discourses,  they  can  sometimes  be  invoked  to  promote  different  ideological  
positions.    
 
The  values  of  commitment  and  love  associated  with  the  Discourse  of  marriage,  
for  example,  might  be  invoked  in  ways  that  promote  traditional  ideas  of  
marriage  and  traditional  gender  roles  within  it,  or  they  might  be  invoked  to  
promote  non-­‐traditional  views  of  marriage,  as  19-­‐year-­‐old  Iowa  university  
student  Zach  Wahls  did  in  an  address  before  the  Iowa  State  Legislature  in  which  
he  defended  the  marriage  of  his  two  mothers  (see  Section  D3),  saying:    
 
The  sense  of  family  comes  from  the  commitment  we  make  to  each  other  
to  work  through  the  hard  times  so  that  we  can  enjoy  the  good  ones.  It  
comes  from  the  love  that  binds  us,  that’s  what  makes  a  family.    
 
    Look  deeper  into  this  topic  online  

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A5  SPOKEN  DISCOURSE  
 
So  far  we  have  been  focusing  mostly  on  the  analysis  of  written  texts.  In  this  
section  we  will  begin  to  consider  some  of  the  special  aspects  of  spoken  discourse.  
In  many  ways,  speech  is  not  so  different  from  writing.  When  people  speak  they  
also  produce  different  kinds  of  genres  (such  as  casual  conversations,  debates,  
lectures  and  speeches  of  various  kinds)  and  use  different  kinds  of  ‘social  
languages’.  They  also  promote  particular  versions  of  reality  or  ideologies.  But  
there  are  some  ways  in  which  speech  is  very  different  from  writing.    
 
First  of  all,  speech  is  more  interactive.  While  we  do  often  expect  and  receive  
feedback  for  our  writing,  especially  when  it  comes  to  new  media  genres  like  
blogs,  this  feedback  is  usually  delayed.  When  we  speak  we  usually  do  so  in  ‘real  
time’  with  other  people,  and  we  receive  their  responses  to  what  we  have  said  
right  away.  As  we  carry  on  conversations,  we  decide  what  to  say  based  on  what  
the  previous  speaker  has  said  as  well  as  what  we  expect  the  subsequent  speaker  
to  say  after  we  have  finished  speaking.  We  can  even  alter  what  we  are  saying  as  
we  go  along  based  on  how  other  people  seem  to  be  reacting  to  it.  Similarly,  
listeners  can  let  us  know  immediately  whether  they  object  to  or  do  not  
understand  what  we  are  saying.  In  other  words,  conversations  are  always  co-­
constructed  between  or  among  the  different  parties  having  them.    
 
Second,  speech  tends  to  be  more  transient  and  spontaneous  than  writing.  When  
we  write,  we  often  plan  what  we  are  going  to  write  carefully,  and  we  often  read  
over,  revise  and  edit  what  we  have  written  before  showing  it  to  other  people.  
Because  writing  has  a  certain  ‘permanence’,  people  can  also  read  what  we  have  
written  more  carefully.  They  can  read  it  quickly  or  slowly,  and  they  can  re-­‐read  it  
as  many  times  as  they  like.  They  can  also  show  it  to  other  people  and  get  their  
opinions  about  it.  Speech,  on  the  other  hand,  is  usually  not  as  well  planned  as  
writing.  While  some  genres  like  formal  speeches  and  lectures  are  planned,  most  
casual  conversation  is  just  made  up  as  we  go  along.  It  is  also  transient;  that  is  to  
say,  our  words  usually  disappear  the  moment  we  utter  them.  This  makes  
listening  in  some  ways  more  challenging  than  reading.  Unless  our  words  are  
recorded,  people  cannot  return  to  them,  save  them  or  transport  them  into  other  
contexts.  While  they  might  be  able  to  remember  what  we  have  said  and  repeat  it  
to  other  people,  it  is  never  exactly  the  same  as  what  we  have  actually  said.    
Finally,  speech  tends  to  be  less  explicit  than  writing.  The  reason  for  this  is  that  
when  we  are  speaking,  we  often  also  depend  on  other  methods  of  getting  our  
message  across.  We  communicate  with  our  gaze,  our  gestures,  our  facial  
expressions  and  the  tone  of  our  voice.  When  we  are  writing  we  do  not  have  these  
tools  at  our  disposal,  and  so  we  often  need  to  depend  more  on  the  words  
themselves  to  express  our  meaning.  Speech  also  usually  takes  place  in  some  kind  
of  physical  context  which  participants  share,  and  often  the  meaning  of  what  we  
say  is  dependent  on  this  context.  We  can  use  words  like  ‘this’  and  ‘that’  and  ‘here’  
and  ‘there’  and  expect  that  the  people  we  are  speaking  to  can  understand  what  
we  are  talking  about  based  on  the  physical  environment  in  which  the  
conversation  takes  place.    

  20  
  
Of  course,  there  are  many  kinds  of  speech  that  do  not  share  all  of  the  features  we  
have  discussed  above.  People  engaged  in  telephone  conversations,  for  example,  
like  readers  and  writers,  are  situated  in  different  places  and  cannot  rely  on  
physical  cues  like  gestures  and  facial  expressions  to  convey  meaning,  although  
their  conversations  are  still  interactive.  When  people  speak  to  us  through  
television  and  cinema,  on  the  other  hand,  while  we  can  see  their  gestures  and  
facial  expressions,  we  cannot  usually  respond  to  what  they  are  saying  in  real  
time.  There  are  also  certain  kinds  of  conversations  that  share  features  of  both  
speech  and  writing.  Instant  messaging  and  text-­‐based  computer  chats,  for  
example,  are,  like  speech,  interactive  and  usually  fairly  unplanned,  while  at  the  
same  time,  like  writing,  they  involve  a  certain  amount  of  permanence  (the  words  
we  write  remain  in  chat  windows  for  some  time  after  we  have  written  them  and  
may  be  stored  as  ‘history  files’).  They  also  lack  the  non-­‐verbal  cues  that  are  part  
of  physical  co-­‐presence.  We  will  deal  more  with  this  type  of  mediated  
communication  later.  In  this  strand  we  will  focus  mainly  on  real-­‐time,  face-­‐to-­‐
face  interaction.    
 

Making  sense  of  conversations  

 
In  this  strand  we  will  deal  with  a  specific  problem  that  people  encounter  when  
they  engage  in  conversation.  This  problem  is  related  to  some  of  the  features  of  
spoken  language  described  above.  The  problem  is  that  quite  often  in  
conversation  people  do  not  mean  what  they  say,  and  people  do  not  say  what  they  
mean.  In  the  first  section  of  this  book  we  gave  the  example  of  someone  asking  to  
borrow  a  pen  with  the  words  ‘Do  you  have  a  pen,’  and  pointed  out  that,  strictly  
speaking,  this  utterance  is  really  a  question  about  whether  or  not  someone  
possesses  a  pen  rather  than  a  request  to  borrow  one.  Similarly,  in  the  comic  strip  
below  (Figure  A5.1),  when  Calvin’s  mother  says  ‘What  are  you  doing  to  the  coffee  
table?!’  she  is  not  so  much  asking  a  question  as  she  is  expressing  shock  and  
disapproval  —  offering  a  rebuke.  The  humor  in  Calvin’s  response  lies  in  the  fact  
that  he  has  taken  her  utterance  to  be  a  question  rather  than  a  rebuke.  
Interestingly,  we  regard  Calvin,  who  operates  on  the  principle  that  people  should  
mean  what  they  say,  as  the  uncooperative  party  in  this  conversation  rather  than  
his  mother,  who,  strictly  speaking,  does  not  say  what  she  means.    
 

 
Figure  A5.1  Calvin  and  Hobbs  (Universal  Press  Syndicate  All  Rights  Reserved)    
 

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Although,  as  we  have  seen,  there  is  also  a  certain  amount  of  ambiguity  in  written  
language,  this  problem  is  much  more  common  in  spoken  language  due  in  part  to  
its  inexplicit,  context-­‐specific  nature.  And  so,  the  problem  is,  if  people  do  not  say  
what  they  mean  or  mean  what  they  say,  how  are  we  able  to  make  sense  of  what  
they  say  and  successfully  engage  in  conversations  with  them?    
This  problem  is  exasperated  by  the  fact  that  we  have  to  make  decisions  about  
what  we  think  people  mean  rather  quickly  in  conversations  in  order  for  the  
conversations  to  proceed  smoothly,  which  increases  the  chances  for  
misunderstanding.    
 
In  order  to  understand  how  participants  in  conversations  deal  with  this  problem,  
we  will  be  drawing  on  two  different  analytical  traditions,  one  with  its  roots  in  
philosophy  and  the  other  with  its  roots  in  sociology.  These  two  traditions  are  
called  pragmatics  and  conversation  analysis.    
 
Pragmatics  is  the  study  of  how  people  use  words  to  accomplish  actions  in  their  
conversations:  actions  like  requesting,  threatening  and  apologizing.  It  aims  to  
help  us  understand  how  people  figure  out  what  actions  other  people  are  trying  
to  take  with  their  words  and  respond  appropriately.  It  has  its  roots  primarily  in  
the  work  of  three  philosophers  of  language:  John  Austin,  John  Searle,  and  
Herbert  Paul  Grice.    
 
Conversation  analysis,  on  the  other  hand,  comes  out  of  a  tradition  in  sociology  
called  ethnomethodology,  which  focuses  on  the  ‘methods’  ordinary  members  of  a  
society  use  to  interact  with  one  another  and  interpret  their  experience.  It  was  
developed  by  three  sociologists,  Harvey  Sacks,  Emanuel  Schegloff  and  Gail  
Jefferson,  and  studies  the  procedural  rules  that  people  use  to  cooperatively  
manage  conversations  and  make  sense  of  what  is  going  on.    
 
Because  these  two  analytical  frameworks  come  out  of  such  different  intellectual  
traditions,  they  approach  the  problem  we  discussed  above  in  two  very  different  
ways.  With  its  roots  in  philosophy,  pragmatics  tends  to  approach  the  problem  as  
a  matter  of  logic,  asking  what  conditions  need  to  be  present  for  a  participant  in  a  
conversation  to  logically  conclude  that  a  given  utterance  has  a  certain  meaning  
(or  pragmatic  ‘force’).  With  its  roots  in  sociology,  conversation  analysis  
approaches  the  problem  not  as  one  of  abstract  logic,  but  as  one  of  locally  
contingent  action.  According  to  this  perspective,  people  make  sense  of  what  
other  people  say  not  by  ‘figuring  it  out’  logically,  but  by  paying  attention  to  the  
local  conditions  of  the  conversation  itself,  especially  the  sequence  of  utterances.    
 
Rather  than  being  mutually  exclusive,  these  two  approaches  represent  two  
different  windows  on  the  phenomenon  of  conversation,  with  each  illuminating  a  
different  aspect  of  it.  In  the  sections  that  follow,  we  will  be  introducing  even  
more  perspectives  that  focus  on  different  aspects  of  spoken  interaction.  Taking  
these  various  perspectives  together  will  lead  us  to  a  rich  and  comprehensive  
understanding  of  what  people  are  doing  when  they  engage  in  conversation  and  
how  they  cope  with  the  unique  challenges  of  spoken  discourse  as  well  as  more  
interactive  written  discourse  like  some  forms  of  computer-­‐mediated  
communication.    

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A6  STRATEGIC  INTERACTION  
 
In  the  last  section  we  talked  about  how  utterances  in  conversations  are  used  to  
perform  certain  kinds  of  actions  like  greeting,  requesting,  inviting,  warning  and  
apologizing.  But  usually  these  actions  taken  alone  do  not  constitute  
conversations.  Conversations  happen  when  multiple  actions  are  put  together  to  
form  activities:  we  chat,  we  debate,  we  flirt,  we  counsel,  we  gossip,  we  
commiserate,  and  we  do  many  other  things  in  our  conversations.  At  the  same  
time,  we  use  conversations  to  show  that  we  are  certain  kinds  of  people  and  to  
establish  and  maintain  certain  kinds  of  relationships  with  the  people  with  whom  
we  are  talking.  We  do  not,  however,  engage  in  these  activities  and  construct  
these  identities  and  relationships  all  by  ourselves.  We  must  always  negotiate  
‘what  we  are  doing’  and  ‘who  we  are  being’  with  the  people  with  whom  we  are  
interacting.  We  call  the  methods  we  use  to  engage  in  these  negotiations  
conversational  strategies.    
 
In  this  strand  we  will  focus  on  two  basic  kinds  of  conversational  strategies:  face  
strategies  and  framing  strategies.  Face  strategies  have  to  do  primarily  with  
showing  who  we  are  and  what  kind  of  relationship  we  have  with  the  people  with  
whom  we  are  talking.  Framing  strategies  have  more  to  do  with  showing  what  we  
are  doing  in  the  conversation,  whether  we  are,  for  example,  arguing,  teasing,  
flirting  or  gossiping.  As  we  shall  see,  however,  face  strategies  also  contribute  to  
the  management  of  conversational  activities  (especially  those  involving  face  
threatening  acts),  and  framing  strategies  are  often  central  to  the  discursive  
construction  of  identity.    
 
These  two  concepts  for  analyzing  how  we  manage  conversations  come  from  an  
approach  to  discourse  known  as  interactional  sociolinguistics,  which  is  concerned  
with  the  sometimes  very  subtle  ways  people  signal  and  interpret  what  they  think  
they  are  doing  and  who  they  think  they  are  being  in  social  interaction.  It  is  
grounded  primarily  in  the  work  of  the  anthropologist  John  Gumperz  (1982a,  
1982b)  who  drew  on  insights  from  anthropology  and  linguistics  as  well  as  the  
fields  of  pragmatics  and  conversation  analysis  that  we  discussed  in  the  previous  
section.  One  of  the  most  important  insights  Gumperz  had  was  that  people  
belonging  to  different  groups  have  different  ways  of  signaling  and  interpreting  
cues  about  conversational  identity  and  conversational  activities,  and  this  can  
sometimes  result  in  misunderstandings  and  even  conflict.    Not  surprisingly,  
interactional  sociolinguistics  has  been  used  widely  in  studies  of  intercultural  
communication,  including  some  of  the  early  studies  by  Gumperz  himself  of  
communication  between  Anglo-­‐British  and  people  of  South  Asian  origin  in  the  
U.K.    
 
Another  important  influence  on  interactional  sociolinguistics  comes  from  the  
American  sociologist  Erving  Goffman,  who,  in  his  classic  book  The  Presentation  of  
Self  in  Everyday  Life  (1959),  compared  social  interaction  to  a  dramatic  
performance.  Social  actors  in  everyday  life,  he  argued,  like  stage  actors,  use  
certain  ‘expressive  equipment’  like  costumes,  props,  and  settings  to  perform  

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certain  ‘roles’  and  ‘routines’.    Our  goal  in  these  performances  is  to  promote  our  
particular  ‘line’  or  version  of  who  we  are  and  what  is  going  on.  Most  of  the  time,  
other  people  help  us  to  maintain  our  line,  especially  if  we  are  willing  to  help  
them  to  maintain  theirs.    Sometimes,  however,  people’s  ‘lines’  are  not  entirely  
compatible,  which  means  they  need  to  negotiate  an  acceptable  common  ‘line’  or  
else  risk  spoiling  the  performance  for  one  or  more  of  the  participants.    
It  was  Goffman  who  contributed  to  discourse  analysis  the  concepts  of  face  and  
frames.    By  ‘face’  he  meant  ‘the  positive  social  value  a  person  effectively  claims  
for  himself  by  the  line  others  assume  he  has  taken’  (1967:  41).  In  other  words,  
for  Goffman  a  person’s  face  is  tied  up  with  how  successful  he  or  she  is  at  ‘pulling  
off’  his  or  her  performance  and  getting  others  to  accept  his  or  her  ‘line’.  What  he  
meant  by  ‘frames’  was  ‘definitions  of  a  situation  (that)  are  built  up  in  accordance  
with  principals  of  organization  which  govern  events.’  The  concept  of  ‘framing’  
relates  to  how  we  negotiate  these  ‘definitions  of  situations’  with  other  people  
and  use  them  as  a  basis  for  communicating  and  interpreting  meaning.    
 

Showing  who  we  are:  Face  strategies  

 
Social  identity  is  a  complex  topic  and  one  that  we  will  return  to  later  in  this  book.  
For  now  we  will  focus  on  one  fundamental  aspect  of  identity:  the  fact  that  our  
identities  are  always  constructed  in  relation  to  the  people  with  whom  we  are  
interacting.  Some  people  are  our  friends,  and  others  are  complete  strangers.  
Some  people  are  our  superiors  and  others  are  our  subordinates.  When  we  talk,  
along  with  conveying  information  about  the  topic  about  which  we  are  talking,  we  
always  convey  information  about  how  close  to  or  distant  from  the  people  with  
whom  we  are  talking  we  think  we  are,  along  with  information  about  whether  we  
are  social  equals  or  whether  one  has  more  power  than  the  other.  The  strategies  
we  use  to  do  this  are  called  face  strategies.    
 
The  concept  of  ‘face’  in  its  more  everyday  sense  will  be  familiar  to  many  readers.  
The  term  is  often  used  to  denote  a  person’s  honor  or  reputation.  Many  cultures  
have  the  notions  of  ‘giving’  people  face  (helping  them  to  maintain  a  sense  of  
dignity  or  honor)  and  of  ‘losing  face’  (when  people,  for  some  reason  of  another  
suffer  a  loss  of  dignity  or  honor).  The  definition  of  face  we  will  be  using  here,  
while  not  far  from  the  more  everyday  meaning,  is  based  primarily  on  the  work  of  
Goffman  and  other  social  scientists.  We  define  face  as  ‘the  negotiated  public  
image  mutually  granted  to  each  other  by  participants  in  a  communicative  event’  
(Scollon,  Scollon  and  Jones  2011).    
 
There  are  three  important  aspects  to  this  definition:  The  first  is  that  one’s  face  is  
one’s  public  image  rather  than  one’s  ‘true  self’.  This  means  that  the  social  image  
that  constitutes  face  is  not  the  same  in  every  interaction  in  which  we  engage.  We  
‘wear’  different  faces  for  different  people.  The  second  important  aspect  of  this  
definition  is  that  this  image  is  ‘negotiated’.  That  is  to  say,  it  is  always  the  result  of  
a  kind  of  ‘give  and  take’  with  the  person  or  people  with  whom  we  are  interacting,  
and  throughout  a  given  interaction  the  image  that  we  present  and  the  images  
others  project  to  us  may  undergo  multiple  adjustments.  Finally,  this  image  is  
‘mutually  granted’.  In  other  words,  successfully  presenting  a  certain  face  in  

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interaction  depends  on  the  people  with  whom  we  are  interacting  cooperating  
with  us.  This  is  because  face  is  the  aspect  of  our  identity  which  defines  us  in  
relation  to  others.  If  one  person’s  idea  of  the  relationship  is  different  from  the  
other  person’s  idea,  chances  are  one  or  the  other  will  end  up  ‘losing  face’.  And  so,  
in  this  regard,  the  everyday  ideas  of  ‘giving  face’  and  ‘losing  face’  are  also  quite  
important  in  our  definition  of  face.    
 
There  are  basically  two  broad  kinds  of  strategies  we  use  to  negotiate  our  
identities  and  relationships  in  interaction.  The  first  we  will  call  involvement  
strategies.  They  are  strategies  we  use  to  establish  or  maintain  ‘closeness’  with  
the  people  with  whom  we  are  interacting  –  to  show  them  that  we  consider  them  
our  friends.  These  include  things  like  calling  people  by  their  first  names  or  using  
nicknames,  using  informal  language,  showing  interest  in  someone  by,  for  
example,  asking  personal  questions,  and  emphasizing  our  common  experiences  
or  points  of  view.  While  such  strategies  can  be  used  to  show  friendliness  —  as  
we  will  see  in  the  next  section  —  they  can  also  be  used  to  assert  power  over  
people.  Teachers,  for  example,  often  use  such  strategies  when  interacting  with  
young  students,  and  bosses  sometimes  use  them  when  interacting  with  their  
employees.    
 
The  second  class  of  face  strategies  is  known  as  independence  strategies.  These  
are  strategies  we  use  to  establish  or  maintain  distance  from  the  people  with  
whom  we  are  interacting  either  because  we  are  not  their  friends,  or,  more  
commonly,  because  we  wish  to  show  them  respect  by  not  imposing  on  them.  
They  include  using  more  formal  language  and  terms  of  address,  trying  to  
minimize  the  imposition,  being  indirect,  apologizing  and  trying  to  depersonalize  
the  conversation  (see  Table  A6.1).    
 
Table  6.1  Face  strategies  
 
Involvement  Strategies   Independence  Strategies  
   
Using  first  names  or  nicknames   Using  tiles  (Good  afternoon,  
(Hey,  Rodders!)   Professor  Jones.)  
   
Expressing  interest  (What  have   Apologizing  (I’m  terribly  sorry  to  
you  been  up  to  lately?)   bother  you.)  
   
Claiming  a  common  point  of   Admitting  differences  (Of  course,  
view  (I  know  exactly  what  you   you  know  much  more  about  it  than  
mean.)   I  do.)  
   
Making  assumptions  (I  know  you   Not  making  assumptions  (How  
love  lots  of  sugar  in  your  coffee.)   would  you  like  your  coffee  today?)  
   
Using  informal  language  (Gotta   Using  formal  language  (Pardon  me,  
minute?)   can  you  spare  a  few  moments?)  
   
Being  direct  (Will  you  come?)   Being  indirect  and  hedging  (I  

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   wonder  if  you  might  possibly  drop  
  by.)  
   
Being  optimistic  (I’m  sure  you’ll   Being  pessimistic  (I’m  afraid  you’ll  
have  a  great  time.)   find  it  a  bit  boring.)  
   
Being  voluble  (talking  a  lot)   Being  taciturn  (not  talking  much)  
   
Talking  about  ‘us’   Talking  about  things  other  than  
‘us’  
 
These  two  kinds  of  face  strategies  correspond  to  two  fundamentally  and,  in  some  
ways,  contradictory  social  needs  that  all  humans  experience:  we  all  have  the  
need  to  be  liked  (sometimes  referred  to  as  our  positive  face),  and  we  all  have  the  
need  to  be  respected  (in  the  sense  of  not  being  imposed  on  or  interfered  with  
(sometimes  referred  to  as  our  negative  face).  When  we  interact  with  others,  we  
must  constantly  attend  to  their  need  to  be  liked  and  respected,  and  constantly  
protect  our  own  need  to  be  liked  and  respected  (Brown  and  Levinson  1987).  
How  we  balance  and  negotiate  these  needs  in  communication  is  fundamental  to  
the  way  we  show  who  we  are  in  relation  to  the  people  around  us.    
In  any  given  interaction  we  are  likely  to  use  a  combination  of  both  of  these  
strategies  as  we  negotiate  our  relationships  with  the  people  with  whom  we  are  
interacting.  In  Section  B6  we  will  go  into  more  detail  about  how  we  decide  which  
of  these  strategies  to  use,  when,  and  with  whom.    
 

Showing  what  we  are  doing:  Framing  strategies  

 
In  order  to  understand  one  another,  we  have  to  interpret  what  other  people  say  
in  the  context  of  some  kind  of  overall  activity  in  which  we  are  mutually  involved.  
One  could  think  of  many  examples  of  utterances  whose  meanings  change  based  
on  what  the  people  are  doing  when  they  utter  them.  The  meaning  of  the  
utterance  by  a  doctor  of  the  phrase,  ‘please  take  off  your  clothes’  is  different  if  
uttered  in  the  context  of  a  medical  examination  or  in  the  context  of  his  or  her  
apartment.  For  different  kinds  of  activities  we  have  different  sets  of  expectations  
about  what  kinds  of  things  will  be  said  and  how  those  things  ought  to  be  
interpreted.  We  call  these  sets  of  expectations  frames.    
 
Goffman  took  his  idea  of  frames  from  the  work  of  the  anthropologist  Gregory  
Bateson,  who  used  it  to  explain  the  behavior  of  monkeys  he  had  observed  at  the  
zoo.  Sometimes,  he  noticed,  the  monkeys  displayed  hostile  signals,  seemingly  
fighting  with  or  attempting  to  bite  one  another.  It  soon  became  clear  to  him,  
however,  that  the  monkeys  were  not  actually  fighting;  they  were  playing.    It  then  
occurred  to  him  that  they  must  have  some  way  of  communicating  to  one  another  
how  a  particular  display  of  aggression  should  be  interpreted,  whether  as  an  
invitation  to  fight  or  an  invitation  to  play.    
 
We  bring  to  most  interactions  a  set  of  expectations  about  the  overall  activity  in  
which  we  will  be  engaged,  which  Goffman  called  the  primary  framework  of  the  

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interaction.  When  we  are  a  patient  in  a  medical  examination,  for  example,  we  
expect  that  the  doctor  will  touch  us,  and  we  interpret  this  behavior  as  a  method  
for  diagnosing  our  particular  medical  problem.  When  we  attend  a  lecture,  we  do  
so  with  an  idea  of  what  the  activities  of  delivering  a  lecture  and  of  listening  to  a  
lecture  involve.    
 
Interaction,  however,  hardly  ever  involves  just  one  activity.  We  often  engage  in  a  
variety  of  different  activities  within  the  primary  framework.  While  lecturing,  for  
example,  a  lecturer  might  give  explanations,  tell  jokes,  or  even  rebuke  members  
of  the  audience  if  they  are  not  paying  attention.  Similarly,  medical  examinations  
might  include  multiple  frames.  In  the  reading  in  Section  D6,  Deborah  Tannen  and  
Cynthia  Wallat  analyze  how  a  doctor  uses  a  ‘playing’  frame  while  examining  a  
young  child,  and  then  switches  back  to  a  ‘consultation’  frame  when  talking  with  
the  child’s  mother.  And  so,  when  we  are  interacting  with  people,  we  change  the  
activities  we  are  involved  in  as  we  go  along  and,  like  Bateson’s  monkeys,  we  need  
ways  to  signal  these  ‘frame  changes’  and  ways  to  negotiate  them  with  the  people  
with  whom  we  are  interacting.    

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A7  CONTEXT,  CULTURE  AND  COMMUNICATION  
 

What  is  context?    

 
By  now  it  should  be  clear  that  what  an  utterance  means  and  the  effect  it  has  on  a  
hearer  depends  crucially  on  the  circumstances  under  which  it  is  uttered.  The  
different  approaches  to  spoken  discourse  we  have  considered  so  far  all  focus  on  
different  aspects  of  these  circumstances.  Pragmatics  focuses  on  the  intentions  of  
speakers  and  the  immediate  conditions  under  which  utterances  are  produced  
(including  the  knowledge,  goals  and  status  of  those  who  produce  them).  
Conversation  analysis  takes  a  rather  narrower  view,  focusing  on  how  talk  
occurring  immediately  before  and  immediately  after  utterances  creates  the  
circumstances  for  particular  meanings  to  be  produced.  Finally,  interactional  
sociolinguistics  examines  how  utterances  are  interpreted  based  on  the  
relationship  of  the  participants  and  what  they  think  they  are  doing,  which  are  
negotiated  using  face  strategies  and  contextualization  cues.  In  this  section  we  will  
take  a  wider  view  of  the  circumstances  in  which  conversations  occur,  taking  into  
account  broader  aspects  of  the  situation  as  well  as  the  ‘cultural’  norms  and  
expectations  of  the  people  involved.    
 
The  idea  that  the  meaning  of  utterances  depends  on  the  context  in  which  they  
are  produced  can  be  traced  back  to  the  anthropologist  Bronislow  Malinowski  
and  his  1923  paper,  ‘The  Problem  of  Meaning  in  Primitive  Languages’,  in  which  
he  argued  that  we  cannot  understand  the  words  spoken  by  members  of  societies  
very  different  from  our  own  through  mere  translation.  We  must  also  have  an  
understanding  of  the  situation  in  which  the  words  were  spoken  and  the  
significance  of  various  relationships  and  activities  in  that  situation  to  the  
speakers.  In  other  words,  meaning  is  transmitted  not  just  through  words,  but  
through  the  ways  words  are  embedded  into  social  relationships,  social  goals  and  
activities,  histories,  and  the  beliefs,  values  and  ideologies  of  a  particular  cultural  
group.    
 
The  problem  with  this  idea  is  determining  exactly  which  aspects  of  the  situation  
or  of  ‘cultural  knowledge’  need  to  be  taken  into  account  in  the  production  and  
interpretation  of  utterances.  ‘Context’  could  mean  practically  anything  from  the  
place  and  time  of  day  of  an  utterance,  to  the  color  of  the  clothing  that  the  
speakers  are  wearing,  to  speakers’  political  views  or  religious  beliefs.  How  does  
the  discourse  analyst  figure  out  which  aspects  of  context  are  relevant  to  the  
production  and  interpretation  of  discourse  and  which  are  not?  More  to  the  point,  
how  do  people  immersed  in  conversation  figure  this  out?    
 
Since  Malinowksi,  a  number  of  scholars  have  proposed  models  to  address  this  
question.  The  linguist  John  Firth  (1957),  for  example,  proposed  that  context  can  
be  divided  into  three  components:      
 
1)  The  relevant  features  of  participants,  persons,  personalities;    

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 2)  The  relevant  objects  in  the  situation;    
3)  The  effect  of  the  verbal  action.  
 
Although  Firth’s  formulation  highlights  what  are  undoubtedly  central  aspects  of  
context,  one  nevertheless  wonders  why  some  elements  are  included  and  others  
are  not.  Why,  for  example,  is  the  setting  or  time  not  part  of  his  model?  
Furthermore,  while  one  of  the  most  important  aspects  of  Firth’s  model  is  his  
insight  that  only  those  things  that  are  ‘relevant’  to  the  communication  being  
analyzed  should  be  considered  context,  he  does  not  fully  explain  how  such  
relevance  is  to  be  established.    
 
Perhaps  the  most  famous  model  of  context  is  that  developed  by  the  linguist  
Michael  Halliday,  whose  ideas  about  the  structure  of  texts  and  the  functions  of  
language  we  have  already  discussed.  Halliday,  drawing  heavily  on  the  work  of  
both  Malinowski  and  Firth,  also  proposed  a  three-­‐part  model  of  context.  For  him,  
context  consists  of:    
 
1)  Field:  the  social  action  that  is  taking  place;    
2)  Tenor:  the  participants,  their  roles  and  relationships;    
3)  Mode:  the  symbolic  or  rhetorical  channel  and  the  role  which  language  
plays  in  the  situation.    
 
Halliday  goes  a  bit  further  than  Firth  in  explaining  the  relationship  between  
context  and  actual  language  use  with  his  concept  of  register.  By  register,  Halliday  
means  the  different  ways  language  is  used  in  different  situations  in  terms  of  
things  like  the  content  of  what  is  said  and  the  degree  of  formality  with  which  it  is  
said.  The  basic  distinction  of  register  is  between  spoken  language  and  written  
language  (see  also  Section  A4).    
 
Halliday’s  model  of  context,  however,  suffers  some  of  the  same  problems  as  
Firth’s:  without  clearer  definitions  of  the  three  categories,  the  analyst  is  unsure  
where  to  fit  things  like  the  social  identities  of  participants  and  their  membership  
in  certain  social  groups  (is  that  subsumed  under  ‘role’  or  can  it  be  seen  as  part  of  
field?),  or  why  things  like  the  physical  mode  (or  channel),  the  rhetorical  form  (or  
genre)  and  the  role  language  plays  in  the  situation  should  be  subsumed  under  
the  same  category  (van  Dijk  2008).  Furthermore,  like  Firth,  he  fails  to  fully  
address  the  issue  of  what  makes  some  contextual  features  ‘relevant’  to  speakers  
and  others  not.    
 
 

Context  and  competence  

 
Halliday  explains  context  from  an  essentially  linguistic  point  of  view,  seeing  it  as  
part  of  a  language’s  system  of  ‘meaning  potential’.  ‘There  is  no  need  to  bring  in  
the  question  of  what  the  speaker  knows,’  he  writes;  ‘the  background  to  what  he  
does  is  what  he  could  do  –  a  potential,  which  is  objective,  not  a  competence,  
which  is  subjective  (1978:  38,  emphasis  mine).  In  sharp  contrast  to  this  position  
is  that  of  the  linguistic  anthropologist  Dell  Hymes,  for  whom  the  notion  of  

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‘competence’  is  central  to  a  model  of  context  he  called  ‘the  ethnography  of  
speaking’,  or,  as  it  is  sometimes  called,  ‘the  ethnography  of  communication’.    
 
In  his  work,  Hymes  focused  on  the  interaction  between  language  and  social  life  -­‐-­‐    
the  ways  using  and  understanding  language  are  related  to  wider  social  and  
cultural  knowledge.  Knowledge  or  mastery  of  the  linguistic  system  alone,  he  
insisted,  is  not  sufficient  for  successful  communication.  People  also  need  to  know  
and  master  various  rules,  norms  and  conventions  regarding  what  to  say  to  
whom,  when,  where,  and  how  —  which  he  called  communicative  competence.  He  
wrote:    
 
The  sharing  of  grammatical  (variety)  rules  is  not  sufficient.  There  may  be  
persons  whose  English  I  can  grammatically  identify  but  whose  messages  
escape  me.  I  may  be  ignorant  of  what  counts  as  a  coherent  sequence,  
request,  statement  requiring  an  answer,  requisite  or  forbidden  topic,  
marking  of  emphasis  or  irony,  normal  duration  of  silence,  normal  level  of  
voice,  etc.,  and  have  no  metacommunitative  means  or  opportunity  for  
discovering  such  things.  (Hymes  1974:  49)    
 
The  question  Hymes  asked,  therefore,  was:  ‘What  kinds  of  things  do  participants  
in  particular  activities  or  speech  events  need  to  know  in  order  to  demonstrate  
that  they  are  competent  members  of  a  particular  speech  community?’  What  
Hymes  meant  by  speech  community  was  not  just  a  group  of  people  who  speak  the  
same  language,  but  a  group  of  people  who  share  the  rules  and  norms  for  using  
and  interpreting  at  least  one  language  variety  in  particular  contexts.    
 
Like  Halliday  and  Firth,  Hymes  developed  a  model  of  what  he  considered  to  be  
the  essential  elements  of  context.  Rather  than  just  three  components,  however,  
Hymes’s  consists  of  eight,  each  component  beginning  with  one  of  the  letters  of  
the  word  ‘SPEAKING’.  
 
S  stands  for  setting  
P  stands  for  participants  
E  stands  for  ends  
A  stands  for  act  sequence  
K  stands  for  key  
I  stands  for  instrumentalities  
N  stands  for  norms  of  interaction  
G  stands  for  genre  
 
In  some  ways,  although  it  seems  more  ‘complete’,  Hymes’s  model  suffers  from  
the  same  fundamental  problem  as  those  of  Firth  and  Hymes:  why  are  some  
elements  included  and  others  not?  Why  are  there  only  eight  elements  rather  
than  nine  or  ten,  and  why  are  they  divided  up  the  way  they  are?  The  crucial  
difference  between  this  model  and  the  others  is  that,  for  Hymes,  these  elements  
do  not  represent  objective  features  of  context,  but  rather,  represent  more  
subjective  features  of  competence,  the  kinds  of  things  about  which  speakers  need  
to  know  to  be  considered  competent  communicators  by  other  members  of  their  
group.    

  30  
  
For  Hymes,  then,  the  ‘subjective’  nature  of  context  is  not  the  weakness  of  his  
model,  but,  in  a  way,  the  whole  point  of  it.  Even  when  the  ‘objective’  aspects  of  
context  —  the  status  of  the  participants,  the  nature  of  the  activity  and  the  
semiotic  modes  being  used  —  remain  the  same,  expectations  about  who  should  
say  what  to  whom,  when,  where  and  how  will  still  vary  across  different  
communities  of  speakers.  
 
An  understanding  of  the  communicative  competence  necessary  in  a  particular  
speech  community  in  order  to  participate  in  a  particular  speech  event  cannot  be  
acquired  with  reference  to  the  linguistic  system  alone,  or  simply  through  the  
analysis  of  texts  or  transcripts  of  conversations.  This  is  because  what  is  of  
importance  is  not  just  the  meanings  people  communicate  and  how  they  are  
communicated,  but  the  meaning  communication  itself  has  for  them  in  different  
situations  with  different  people.  Understanding  this  requires  a  different  
approach  to  the  analysis  of  discourse,  an  approach  which  is  summed  up  in  the  
word  ethnography.    
 
Ethnography  is  a  research  method  developed  in  the  field  of  anthropology  which  
is  concerned  with  describing  the  lived  experiences  of  people  in  particular  social  
groups.  It  involves  not  just  analyzing  the  texts  and  talk  that  they  produce  from  a  
distance,  but  actually  spending  time  with  them,  observing  them  as  they  use  
language,  and  talking  to  them  at  length  about  the  meanings  they  ascribe  to  
different  kinds  of  utterances  and  different  kinds  of  behavior.    
 
Many  of  the  approaches  to  discourse  discussed  earlier  have  begun  to  incorporate  
ethnographic  fieldwork:  genre  analysts,  for  example,  typically  interview  
members  of  discourse  communities  about  the  kinds  of  texts  they  use  and  how  
they  use  them;  critical  discourse  analysts  are  increasingly  focusing  not  just  on  
how  producers  of  texts  express  ideology  and  reproduce  power  relations,  but  also  
on  how  readers  respond  to  and  sometimes  contest  these  ideological  formations;  
and  issues  of  cross-­‐cultural  pragmatics  are  increasingly  being  explored  through  
ethnographic  methods.    
 
  Look  deeper  into  this  topic  online  

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A8  MEDIATED  DISCOURSE  ANALYSIS  
 
So  far  this  book  has  presented  different  methods  for  the  analysis  of  written  and  
spoken  discourse.  These  methods  include  ways  to  understand  how  texts  and  
conversations  are  put  together  and  how  people  make  sense  of  them,  as  well  as  
how  people  use  them  to  manage  their  activities  and  identities  and  to  advance  
their  ideological  agendas.  We  have  also  explored  how  context,  from  the  narrow  
context  of  the  immediate  situation  to  the  broader  context  of  culture  can  affect  the  
ways  discourse  is  produced  and  interpreted.      
 
In  this  strand  we  will  step  back  and  attempt  to  answer  a  more  fundamental  
question  in  discourse  analysis:  ‘How  do  we  determine  what  texts  or  
conversations  are  worth  analyzing  in  the  first  place?’    
 
We  are  literally  surrounded  by  discourse.  In  the  course  of  a  single  day  the  
number  of  words  we  speak  and  hear  and  the  number  of  texts  that  pass  before  
our  eyes,  from  emails  to  advertising  billboards  to  shop  receipts,  is  mind-­‐
boggling.  In  the  excerpt  reprinted  in  Section  D8,  Ron  Scollon  talks  about  just  
some  of  the  texts  and  spoken  language  involved  in  the  simple  activity  of  having  a  
cup  of  coffee  at  Starbucks.  These  include  things  like  conversations  between  
customers  and  the  cashier,  the  communication  between  the  cashier  and  the  
person  making  the  coffee,  the  chatting  that  occurs  between  the  people  sitting  at  
tables  and  lounging  on  sofas  throughout  the  shop,  the  writing  on  the  paper  cups  
out  of  which  they  are  drinking  their  beverages,  the  menu  posted  on  the  wall  
above  the  counter,  the  name  badges  that  the  employees  wear,  the  magazines  and  
newspapers  provided  for  patrons  to  read,  and  the  various  advertisements  and  
posters  hanging  on  the  walls  around  the  shop,  to  mention  only  a  few.  There  is  
also  a  whole  host  of  texts  and  conversations  that  have  contributed  to  this  
moment  of  drinking  coffee  that  are  not  immediately  visible:  training  manuals  
and  work  schedules  for  employees,  orders  and  invoices  for  bulk  coffee  beans,  
and  conversations  and  text  messages  between  friends  planning  when  and  where  
they  might  meet  up  for  a  cup  of  coffee.    
 
Given  this  complex  situation,  the  most  important  question  for  a  discourse  analyst  
is:  where  do  I  start?  Which  texts  or  utterances  should  I  commence  analyzing?  For  
most  discourse  analysts  the  answer  to  this  question  is:  ‘Whatever  I  happen  to  be  
interested  in.’  Thus,  analysts  interested  in  casual  conversation  might  focus  on  the  
talk  that  goes  on  between  friends  sitting  at  tables,  analyst  interested  in  
promotional  discourse  might  zero  in  on  the  advertising  posters  or  menu  which  
inform  patrons  of  the  ‘drink  of  the  month’,  and  those  interested  in  the  speech  
event  of  the  ‘service  encounter’  might  want  to  record  or  observe  people  ordering  
and  paying  for  their  coffee.    
 
In  principle  there  is  nothing  wrong  with  this  ‘analyst  centered’  approach  from  
which  we  can  learn  quite  a  lot  about  things  like  casual  conversation,  promotional  
discourse  and  service  encounters.  What  we  might  miss,  however,  is  an  
understanding  of  what  the  practice  of  ‘having  a  cup  of  coffee  at  Starbucks’  is  

  32  
really  like  for  the  actual  participants  involved,  what  this  practice  means  to  them,  
how  they  go  about  performing  it,  and  how  it  fits  into  their  lives.    
 
Mediated  discourse  analysis,  the  perspective  on  discourse  that  is  the  topic  of  this  
section,  approaches  the  problem  of  ‘which  discourse  to  analyze’  by  asking  the  
simple  question:  ‘What’s  going  on  here?’  and  then  focusing  on  whatever  texts,  
conversations  or  other  things  play  a  part  in  ‘what’s  going  on’.  
 
Of  course,  the  answer  to  that  question  might  not  be  very  simple.  For  one  thing,  it  
is  likely  to  be  different  depending  on  whom  you  ask:  for  a  customer,  it  might  be:  
‘having  a  cup  of  coffee.’  For  a  worker  it  might  be  ‘taking  orders’  or  ‘making  coffee’  
or  ‘bussing  tables’  or  more  generally  ‘making  a  living.’  For  a  government  health  
inspector,  it  might  be  determining  whether  the  shop  complies  with  government  
regulations  when  it  comes  to  hygiene  and  food  safety.    
 
The  focus  of  mediated  discourse  analysis  is  trying  to  understand  the  
relationships  between  ‘what’s  going  on’  and  the  discourse  that  is  available  in  the  
situation  to  perform  these  ‘goings  on’.  Certain  kinds  of  discourse  make  certain  
kinds  of  actions  easier  to  perform  and  other  kinds  more  difficult  to  perform.  But  
it  is  also  interested  in  the  relationship  between  these  actions  and  the  social  
identities  of  the  people  involved.  The  point  is  not  just  that  cashiers  or  customers  
need  to  use  certain  kinds  of  discourse  to  perform  certain  kinds  of  actions,  but  
that  it  is  chiefly  by  using  these  different  kinds  of  discourse  to  perform  these  
actions  that  they  enact  their  identities  as  cashiers  and  customers  and  health  
inspectors.  That  is  to  say,  we  associate  different  kinds  of  actions  and  different  
kinds  of  discourse  with  different  kinds  of  people.  We  might  find  it  odd  to  see  
someone  who  is  wearing  a  badge  and  uniform  reading  a  newspaper  and  drinking  
a  cup  of  coffee  at  one  of  the  tables,  or  a  customer  inspecting  the  cleanliness  of  the  
espresso  machine.    
 
The  point,  then,  is  not  that  some  discourse  is  more  important  than  other  
discourse.  Rather,  the  point  is  that  to  really  understand  how  discourse  is  
relevant  to  ‘real  life’,  we  have  to  try  to  understand  how  different  texts  and  
conversations  are  linked,  sometimes  directly  and  sometimes  indirectly,  to  the  
concrete,  real-­‐time  actions  that  are  going  on  in  coffee  shops  and  classrooms  and  
offices  and  on  street  corners  at  particular  moments,  and  how  these  linkages  
work  to  create  social  identities  (like  ‘friends’,  ‘colleagues’,  ‘teachers’,  ‘cashiers’,  
and  ‘customers’)  and  social  practices  (like  ‘teaching  a  lesson’  or  ‘having  a  cup  of  
coffee’).    
 

Discourse  and  action  

 
One  of  the  definitions  of  discourse  given  in  the  very  first  section  of  this  book  was  
that  discourse  is  ‘language  in  use’  or,  to  put  it  another  way,  ‘language  in  action’.  
Nearly  all  of  the  approaches  to  discourse  analysis  we  have  discussed  are  
concerned  in  some  way  with  the  relationship  between  language  and  action.  
According  to  speech  act  theory  (see  Section  A5),  for  example,  people  use  
language  in  order  to  accomplish  particular  actions  like  requesting,  apologizing  

  33  
and  warning,  and  according  to  genre  analysis  (see  Section  A3),  the  structure  of  
genres  is  crucially  determined  by  the  actions  that  users  are  attempting  to  
accomplish  with  them  within  particular  discourse  communities.  
 
Mediated  discourse  analysis  has  a  similar  focus  on  action,  but,  whereas  these  
other  approaches  start  with  the  discourse  and  ask  what  kinds  of  social  actions  
speakers  or  writers  can  accomplish  with  it,  mediated  discourse  analysis  starts  
with  actions  and  asks  what  role  discourse  plays  in  them.    
 
This  may  seem  to  be  a  rather  small  distinction,  but  it  is  actually  a  crucial  one,  
because  it  avoids  the  assumption  that  discourse  (rather  than  other  things  like  
espresso  machines  and  coffee  cups)  is  necessarily  the  most  important  cultural  
tool  involved  in  the  action.  It  also  reminds  us  that  just  because  a  piece  of  
discourse  might  be  used  to  perform  certain  kinds  of  actions,  the  way  people  
actually  use  it  may  be  to  perform  actions  which  we  may  not  have  expected.  
People  might  just  as  easily  use  a  newspaper  to  wrap  fish  and  chips  as  to  find  out  
about  the  latest  news  from  Parliament.  One’s  relationship  status  on  Facebook,  as  
we  will  see  in  Section  C8,  might  just  as  easily  be  used  to  avoid  giving  information  
about  one’s  relationship  status  as  to  give  it.    
 
Thus,  the  unit  of  analysis  in  mediated  discourse  analysis  is  not  the  ‘utterance’  or  
‘speech  act’  or  ‘adjacency  pair’  or  ‘conversation’  or  ‘text’,  but  rather  the  mediated  
action,  that  is,  the  action  that  is  mediated  though  these  discursive  tools  or  other  
tools  that  may  have  nothing  to  do  with  language.  Such  an  analysis  begins  with  
two  questions:  ‘What  is  the  action  going  on  here?  and  ‘How  does  discourse  figure  
into  this  action?’    
 
The  answer  to  the  question  ‘What  is  the  action  going  on  here?’  might  have  a  very  
complex  answer.  As  mentioned  above,  it  might  be  different  for  different  people,  
and  even  for  the  same  person,  it  might  depend  on  how  broadly  or  narrowly  they  
are  focusing  on  what  they  are  doing.  The  person  operating  the  espresso  machine  
at  Starbucks,  for  example,  might  say  she’s  ‘working’  or  ‘making  a  cappuccino’  or  
‘steaming  milk’.    
 
What  this  tells  us  is  that  actions  are  always  dependent  on  other  actions  that  
occur  before  them  and  are  likely  to  occur  after  them,  and  that  whatever  one  
identifies  as  an  action  can  always  be  divided  up  into  smaller  and  smaller  actions.  
In  other  words,  actions  are  always  related  to  other  actions  in  complex  patterns.  
Often  these  patterns,  such  as  the  sequence  of  smaller  actions  and  how  they  
combine  to  make  larger  actions,  become  conventionalized;  in  the  same  way  
genres  of  written  and  spoken  discourse  can  become  conventionalized.  When  this  
happens,  we  refer  to  these  patterns  of  actions  as  social  practices.    
 
Part  of  what  a  mediated  discourse  analyst  focuses  on  is  how  small,  discrete  
actions  like  handing  money  to  a  cashier  or  steaming  milk  in  a  stainless  steel  
pitcher  come  to  be  habitually  joined  with  other  actions  and  regarded  by  
participants  as  the  social  practices  of  ‘having  a  cup  of  coffee’  or  ‘making  a  
cappuccino’.  In  particular  they  are  interested  in  the  role  discourse  plays  in  
creating  and  sustaining  these  social  practices.    

  34  
  
Like  other  analysts,  then,  mediated  discourse  analysts,  through  their  interest  in  
social  practices,  are  concerned  with  the  ideological  dimension  of  discourse,  or  
what  James  Paul  Gee  refers  to  as  ‘Discourses  with  a  capital  D’.    When  chains  of  
actions  occur  over  and  over  again  in  the  same  way  in  the  same  kinds  of  situations  
involving  the  same  kinds  of  people,  they  become  social  practices,  and  thus  begin  
to  exert  control  over  the  people  who  carry  them  out:  people  come  to  be  expected  
to  do  things  in  a  certain  way  and  the  things  that  they  do  come  to  be  associated  
with  the  kinds  of  social  identities  they  are  able  to  claim.  Discourse  of  all  kinds,  
from  training  manuals  to  health  regulations  to  conversations  play  a  crucial  role  
in  this  process.  In  contrast  to  other  approaches  concerned  with  the  ideological  
nature  of  discourse,  mediated  discourse  analysis  does  not  focus  so  much  on  how  
discourse  itself  expresses  ideology,  but  rather  how  it  is  used  to  help  create  and  
maintain  the  practices  that  come  to  exert  control  over  us.    
 
  Look  deeper  into  this  topic  online  

  35  
A9  MULTIMODAL  DISCOURSE  ANALYSIS  
 
In  the  first  section  of  this  book  we  said  that  one  of  the  fundamental  principles  of  
discourse  analysis  is  that  discourse  includes  more  than  just  language.  It  also  
involves  things  like  non-­‐verbal  communication,  images,  music,  and  even  the  
arrangement  of  furniture  in  rooms  and  the  spaces  created  by  architectural  
structures.  We  elaborated  on  this  point  a  bit  further  in  our  examination  of  
spoken  discourse,  first  noting  how  non-­‐verbal  cues  can  serve  to  signal  the  
‘frames’  within  which  an  utterance  is  meant  to  be  interpreted,  and  later  how  the  
larger  physical  and  cultural  context  including  such  things  as  setting,  participants  
and  communication  media  can  affect  how  language  is  produced  and  understood.  
We  took  this  point  even  further  in  the  last  section  in  our  discussion  of  mediated  
discourse  analysis,  suggesting  that  language  is  only  one  of  many  ‘cultural  tools’  
with  which  people  take  actions,  and  that  focusing  on  language  alone  at  the  
expense  of  these  other  tools  might  result  in  a  distorted  picture  of  ‘what’s  going  
on’.      
 
This  section  introduces  an  approach  to  discourse  called  multimodal  discourse  
analysis  which  focuses  more  directly  on  these  other  tools  or  ‘modes’  of  
communication.  Multimodal  discourse  analysts  see  discourse  as  involving  
multiple  modes  which  often  work  together.  In  a  face-­‐to-­‐face  conversation,  for  
example,  people  do  not  just  communicate  with  spoken  language.  They  also  
communicate  though  their  gestures,  gaze,  facial  expressions,  posture,  dress,  how  
close  or  far  away  they  stand  or  sit  from  each  other,  and  many  other  things.  
Similarly,  ‘written  texts’  rarely  consist  only  of  words,  especially  nowadays.  They  
often  include  pictures,  charts  or  graphs.  Even  the  font  that  is  used  and  the  way  
paragraphs  are  arranged  on  a  page  or  screen  can  convey  meaning.    
 
The  point  of  multimodal  discourse  analysis  is  not  to  analyze  these  other  modes  
instead  of  speech  and  writing,  but  to  understand  how  different  modes,  including  
speech  and  writing,  work  together  in  discourse.  The  point  is  also  not  to  study  
some  special  kind  of  discourse  –  ‘multimodal  discourse’  –  but  rather  to  
understand  how  all  discourse  involves  the  interaction  of  multiple  modes.    
 
The  idea  of  a  communicative  ‘mode’  (sometimes  called  a  ‘semiotic  mode’)  should  
not  be  confused  with  the  notion  of  ‘modality’  in  linguistics  (the  way  we  express  
possibility  and  obligation  in  language,  discussed  in  Section    B4),  or  with  
Halliday’s  use  of  the  term  ‘mode’  in  his  model  of  context  (discussed  in  Section  
A7).  We  also  do  not  mean  it  the  way  some  people  in  the  field  of  rhetoric  do  when  
they  speak  of  ‘modes  of  discourse’  (such  as  description,  narration,  exposition).  
What  we  mean  by  mode  in  the  context  of  multimodal  discourse  analysis  is  a  
system  for  making  meaning.  So  we  can  speak,  for  example,  of  the  modes  of  
speech,  writing,  gesture,  color,  dress,  and  so  on.  Any  system  of  signs  that  are  
used  in  a  consistent  and  systematic  way  to  make  meaning  can  be  considered  a  
mode.    
 

  36  
Modes  should  also  not  be  confused  with  media,  which  are  the  material  carriers  of  
modes.  Telephones,  radios  and  computers  are  all  media  which  can  carry  the  
mode  of  spoken  language.  They  can  also  carry  other  modes,  such  as  music,  and,  in  
the  case  of  computers  and  some  mobile  telephones,  many  other  modes  like  
written  text  and  pictures.    
 
Multimodal  discourse  analysis  can  generally  be  divided  into  two  types:  one  
which  focuses  on  ‘texts’  like  magazines,  comic  books,  web  pages,  films  and  works  
of  art,  and  the  other  which  focuses  more  on  social  interaction  (sometimes  
referred  to  as  multimodal  interaction  analysis).      
 
Perhaps  the  most  influential  approach  to  the  multimodal  analysis  of  texts  has  
grown  out  of  the  study  of  systemic  functional  grammar  as  it  was  developed  by  
M.A.K.  Halliday,  whose  work  we  have  already  discussed  at  length.  Halliday’s  view  
is  that  grammar  is  a  system  of  ‘resources’  for  making  meaning  shaped  by  the  
kinds  of  things  people  need  to  do  with  language.  Those  applying  this  framework  
to  multimodal  discourse  analysis  propose  that  other  modes  like  images,  music  
and  architecture  also  have  a  kind  of  ‘grammar’.  In  other  words,  their  components  
can  be  organized  as  networks  of  options  that  users  choose  from  in  order  to  
realize  different  meanings.    
 
The  most  famous  application  of  this  idea  is  the  book  Reading  Images:  The  
grammar  of  visual  design,  first  published  in  1996  by  Gunther  Kress  and  Theo  van  
Leeuwen,  an  excerpt  from  which  is  reprinted  in  Section  D9.  Before  the  
publication  of  this  book,  most  of  those  involved  in  the  analysis  of  images  
assumed  that  their  interpretation  depended  on  their  interaction  with  language  –  
that  images  themselves  were  too  ‘vague’  to  be  understood  on  their  own.  In  
contrast,  Kress  and  van  Leeuwen  show  that,  while  in  many  texts  images  and  
language  work  together,  images  are  not  dependent  on  written  text,  but  rather  
have  their  own  way  of  structuring  and  organizing  meaning  –  their  own  
‘grammar’.  This  approach  has  also  been  applied  to  other  modes  such  as  music  
(van  Leeuwen,  1999),  architecture  (O’Toole,  1994),  color  (van  Leeuwen,  2011),  
hypermedia  (Djonov,  2007),  and  mathematical  symbolism  (O’Halloran,  2005).    
It  is  important  to  note,  however,  that  this  approach  does  not  involve  simply  
applying  the  ‘grammatical  rules’  derived  from  the  study  of  language  to  other  
modes.  Instead,  each  mode  is  seen  to  have  its  own  special  way  of  organizing  
meaning,  and  it  is  the  task  of  the  analyst  to  discover  what  that  system  is,  
independent  of  other  systems.    
 
The  second  approach  to  multimodal  discourse  analysis  grows  more  out  of  
traditions  associated  with  the  analysis  of  spoken  discourse,  especially  
conversation  analysis  (see  Section  A5),  interactional  sociolinguistics  (see  Section  
A6),  and  the  ethnography  of  speaking  (see  Section  A7).  Some  of  the  more  recent  
work  in  what  has  come  to  be  known  as  multimodal  interaction  analysis  (Norris  
2004)  has  also  been  influenced  by  meditated  discourse  analysis  (see  Section  A8).    
In  analyzing  multimodality  in  interaction,  analysts  pay  attention  to  many  of  the  
same  kinds  of  things  they  do  when  they  analyze  spoken  language,  especially  
sequentiality,  how  elements  are  ordered  in  relation  to  one  another,  and  
simultaneity,  how  elements  that  occur  at  the  same  time  affect  one  another.  A  

  37  
multimodal  discourse  analyst,  for  example,  might  look  for  patterns  in  the  
ordering  of  non-­‐verbal  behavior  in  a  conversation,  like  the  role  things  like  gaze  
play  in  the  regulation  of  turn  taking,  or  at  how  the  meanings  of  utterances  are  
affected  by  non-­‐verbal  behavior  that  is  occurring  at  the  same  time  or  visa  versa,  
such  as  gestures  of  facial  expressions  which  serve  to  contextualize  utterances.  
 
One  of  the  key  preoccupations  of  multimodal  interaction  analysis  is  the  fact  that  
when  we  are  interacting  we  are  almost  always  involved  in  multiple  activities.  We  
might,  for  example,  be  chatting  with  a  friend  at  the  beauty  salon,  leafing  though  a  
magazine  and  checking  the  mirror  to  see  what  is  going  on  with  our  hair  all  at  the  
same  time.  Multimodal  interaction  analysis  gives  us  a  way  to  examine  how  
people  use  different  communicative  modes  to  manage  simultaneous  activities  
and  to  communicate  to  others  something  about  how  they  are  distributing  their  
attention.    
 
It  is  important  to  mention  that  both  of  these  approaches  have  been  applied  to  
both  static  texts  and  dynamic  interactions.  Approaches  based  on  systemic  
functional  grammar  have  been  used  to  analyze  things  like  gestures  and  gaze,  and  
multimodal  interaction  analysis  has  been  applied  to  more  static  texts  like  
advertisements.  Furthermore,  with  the  increasing  popularity  of  interactive  text-­‐
based  forms  of  communication  like  instant  messaging,  blogs  and  social  
networking  sites,  discourse  analysts  often  find  that  they  need  to  focus  both  on  
patterns  and  structures  in  the  organization  of  elements  in  texts  and  on  the  
sequentiality  and  simultaneity  of  actions  as  people  interact  using  these  texts  (see  
for  example  Jones,  2005,  2009a,  b).    
 
As  new  forms  of  media  are  developed  which  allow  people  to  mix  modes  of  
communication  in  new  ways  over  time  and  space,  our  whole  idea  of  what  we  
mean  by  a  text  or  a  conversation  is  beginning  to  change.  If,  for  example,  as  we  
discussed  in  Section  A2,  texture  is  a  result  of  elements  like  clauses,  sentences  and  
paragraphs  being  connected  together  in  various  ways  using  cohesive  devices,  
then  it  would  make  sense  to  consider  not  just  a  particular  webpage,  but  an  entire  
website  consisting  of  numerous  pages  joined  together  by  hyperlinks  as  a  kind  of  
‘text’.  We  might  also  be  tempted  to  consider  as  part  of  this  text  other  websites  
that  this  text  hyperlinks  to,  and,  before  long,  following  this  logic,  we  might  end  
up  with  the  idea  that  the  entire  Internet  can  on  some  level  be  considered  a  single  
text.    
 
Similarly,  our  notion  of  conversations  is  changing.  Not  only  are  computer  
mediated  conversations  often  written  rather  than  spoken,  but  they  may  extend  
over  days  or  even  months  on  discussion  forums  or  Facebook  walls,  accompanied  
by  things  like  photos  and  video  clips  rather  than  gestures  and  facial  expressions.    
 
Furthermore,  conversations  often  travel  across  communication  media  and  
modes.  You  might,  for  example,  begin  a  conversation  with  a  friend  over  lunch,  
continue  it  later  in  the  afternoon  using  text  messages,  carry  on  chatting  about  the  
same  topic  through  the  telephone  or  instant  messaging  in  the  evening,  and  
resume  the  conversation  the  next  morning  over  coffee  at  Starbucks.    
 

  38  
These  changes  brought  on  by  multimedia  present  challenges  for  communicators  
and  discourse  analysts  alike.  Because  different  modes  (and  media)  alter  the  
kinds  of  meanings  we  can  make,  we  need  to  learn  to  adjust  our  discourse  in  
different  ways  every  time  we  move  from  one  mode  to  another.  This  phenomenon  
is  known  resemiotization  –  the  fact  that  the  meanings  that  we  make  change  as  
they  are  shaped  by  the  different  modes  we  use  as  social  practices  unfold.  The  
author  of  a  text  based  personal  ad  like  those  described  in  Section  B3,  for  
example,  might  move  on  to  exchange  photographs  with  a  potential  partner,  and  
then  to  talking  on  the  phone,  and  finally  to  a  face-­‐to-­‐face  meeting  (see  Jones  
2005).  The  Australian  discourse  analyst  Rick  Iedema  (2001)  gives  as  an  example  
of  resemiotization  the  way  meanings  associated  with  the  building  of  a  new  wing  
of  a  hospital  changed  as  they  were  expressed  orally  in  planning  meetings,  then  
later  in  the  written  language  of  reports,  and  still  later  in  the  graphic  language  of  
architectural  drawings,  and  finally  in  the  materiality  of  bricks  and  mortar.  
 
The  most  important  point  multimodal  discourse  analyst  makes  is  that  modes  can  
never  really  be  analyzed  in  isolation  from  other  modes  (although  this  is,  as  we  
have  seen  in  this  book,  what  most  discourse  analysts  do  with  the  modes  of  
spoken  and  written  language).  Not  only  do  modes  always  interact  with  other  
modes  in  texts  and  interaction,  but  authors  and  conversational  participants  often  
shift  from  foregrounding  one  mode  or  set  of  modes,  to  foregrounding  other  
modes  or  sets  of  modes,  and  in  doing  so,  alter  the  ‘meaning  potential’  of  the  
communicative  environment.    

  39  
A10  CORPUS-­‐ASSISTED  DISCOURSE  ANALYSIS  
 
So  far  all  of  the  approaches  to  discourse  analysis  we  have  considered  involve  
analyzing  a  relatively  small  number  of  texts  or  interactions  at  one  time.  In  fact,  
the  focus  of  most  discourse  analysis  is  on  looking  very  closely  at  one  or  a  small  
number  of  texts  or  conversations  of  a  particular  type,  trying  to  uncover  things  
like  how  the  text  or  conversation  is  structured,  how  writers/speakers  and  
readers/listeners  are  constructed,  how  the  text  or  conversation  promotes  the  
broader  ideological  agendas  of  groups  or  institutions,  and  how  people  actually  
use  the  text  or  conversation  to  perform  concrete  social  actions.  
 
Corpus-­‐assisted  discourse  analysis  is  unique  in  that  it  allows  us  to  go  beyond  
looking  at  a  small  number  of  texts  or  interactions  to  analyzing  a  large  number  of  
them  and  being  able  to  compare  them  to  other  texts  and  conversations  that  are  
produced  under  similar  or  different  circumstances.  It  also  allows  us  to  bring  to  
our  analysis  some  degree  of  ‘objectivity’  by  giving  us  the  opportunity  to  test  out  
the  theories  we  have  formulated  in  our  close  analysis  of  a  few  texts  or  
conversations  on  a  much  larger  body  of  data  in  a  rather  systematic  way.    
 
A  corpus  is  basically  a  collection  of  texts  in  digital  format  that  it  is  possible  to  
search  through  and  manipulate  using  a  computer  program.  There  are  a  number  
of  large  corpora,  such  as  the  British  National  Corpus,  which  is  a  very  general  
collection  of  written  and  spoken  texts  in  English.  You  can  also  find  general  
corpora  of  texts  produced  in  different  varieties  of  English  and  also  other  
languages.  There  are  also  a  large  number  of  specialized  corpora  available,  that  is,  
collections  of  texts  of  one  particular  genre  (such  as  business  letters3)  or  in  one  
particular  register  (such  as  academic  writing4).  There  are  even  multimodal  
corpora  in  which  not  just  verbal  data  but  also  visual  data  are  collected  and  
tagged.    
 
Normally,  corpora  are  used  by  linguists  in  order  to  find  out  things  about  the  
grammatical  and  lexical  patterns  in  particular  varieties  of  language  or  particular  
kinds  of  texts.  A  lot  of  what  we  know  about  the  differences  among  the  different  
varieties  of  English  (such  as  British  English,  American  English,  and  Australian  
English)  or  among  different  registers  for  example  comes  from  the  analysis  of  
corpora.  Corpora  have  also  played  an  important  role  in  forensic  linguistics  (the  
use  of  linguistics  to  solve  crimes):  linguists  sometimes,  for  example,  compare  the  
features  in  a  piece  of  writing  to  those  in  a  corpora  of  texts  by  a  particular  author  
in  order  to  answer  questions  about  authorship.    
 
Discourse  analysts  have  only  recently  started  using  corpora,  and  the  number  of  
discourse  analytical  studies  that  rely  heavily  on  corpora  is  still  relatively  small.  
                                                                                                               
3  See  for  example  http://langbank.engl.polyu.edu.hk/corpus/business_correspondence.html  

4  See  for  example  the  Lancaster  Corpus  of  Academic  Written  English            
http://www.ling.lancs.ac.uk/activities/294/  

  40  
The  reasons  for  this  have  to  do  with  the  way  discourse  analysts  have  
traditionally  viewed  what  they  do.  As  we  said  in  the  beginning  of  this  book,  
discourse  analysts  are  not  just  interested  in  linguistic  forms  and  patterns  but  
also  in  how  language  is  actually  used  in  concrete  social  situations.  Computer  
analysis  using  large  corpora  seems  to  go  against  this  key  aim:  texts  in  corpora  
are  taken  out  of  their  social  contexts,  and  even  the  information  we  often  get  from  
the  analysis,  which  usually  consists  of  things  like  lists  of  frequently  used  words  
or  phrases,  is  often  presented  outside  of  the  context  of  the  texts  in  which  these  
words  and  phrases  occur.    
 
Other  than  this,  the  analysis  of  corpora  also  presents  other  problems  for  
discourse  analysts.  As  we  asserted  at  the  beginning  of  our  study  of  discourse  
analysis:  ‘People  don’t  always  say  what  they  mean,  and  people  don’t  always  
mean  what  they  say.’  A  big  part  of  discourse  analysis,  in  fact,  is  figuring  out  what  
people  mean  when  they  do  not  say  (or  write)  it  directly.  Any  method  which  takes  
language  and  its  meaning  at  face  value  is  of  limited  use  to  discourse  analysts.  
Words  and  phrases,  as  we  have  seen,  can  have  multiple  meanings  depending  on  
how  they  are  used  in  different  circumstances  by  different  people,  and  just  
because  a  word  is  used  frequently  does  not  mean  it  is  particularly  important.  
Often  the  most  important  meanings  that  we  make  are  implicit  or  stated  
indirectly.    
 
Despite  these  potential  problems,  however,  the  computer-­assisted  analysis  of  
corpora  can  still  be  a  very  valuable  tool  for  discourse  analysts.  The  key  word  in  
this  phrase  is  assisted.  The  computer  analysis  of  corpora  cannot  be  used  by  itself  
to  do  discourse  analysis.  But  it  can  assist  us  in  doing  discourse  analysis  in  some  
very  valuable  ways.    
 
First,  it  can  help  us  to  see  the  data  that  we  are  analyzing  from  a  new  perspective.  
Often  seeing  your  data  broken  down  into  things  like  concordances  or  frequency  
lists  can  help  you  to  see  things  that  you  missed  using  more  traditional  discourse  
analytical  techniques.  
 
Second,  it  can  help  us  to  see  if  we  can  generalize  our  theories  or  observations  
about  certain  kinds  of  texts  or  certain  kinds  of  interactions.  If  you  find  certain  
features  in  a  business  email  you  are  analyzing,  the  most  you  can  say  is  that  this  
particular  email  has  these  features  and  that  these  features  function  in  the  
particular  social  situation  from  which  the  email  comes  in  a  certain  way.  If,  
however,  you  have  access  to  a  large  number  of  similar  emails,  or  emails  from  the  
same  company,  then  you  can  start  to  make  generalizations  about  the  kinds  of  
features  that  are  common  to  business  emails,  or  the  kinds  of  features  that  are  
common  to  emails  in  this  particular  company.  This  has  obvious  applications  to  
genre  analysis  in  which  the  analyst  is  interested  in  identifying  certain  
conventions  of  language  use  associated  with  particular  kinds  of  texts.    
 
Finally,  and  most  importantly,  the  analysis  of  corpora  can  help  us  to  detect  what  
we  have  been  calling  'Discourses  with  a  capital  D'  –  systems  of  language  use  that  
promote  particular  kinds  of  ideologies  and  power  relationships.    One  of  the  
biggest  problems  we  have  as  discourse  analysts  is  that,  while  we  want  to  make  

  41  
some  kind  of  connection  between  the  texts  and  conversations  that  we  are  
analyzing  and  larger  ‘Discourses’  –  such  as  the  ‘Discourse  of  medicine’  or  the  
‘Discourse  or  racism’  -­‐-­‐    we  are  usually  just  guessing  about  whether  or  not  these  
Discourses  actually  exist  and  what  kinds  of  ideologies,  power  relationships  and  
linguistic  strategies  they  entail.  These  are  usually  quite  educated  guesses  that  we  
make  based  on  world  knowledge,  scholarly  research,  common  sense  and  the  
analysis  of  lots  of  different  texts  over  a  long  period  of  time.  The  analysis  of  large  
corpora,  however,  gives  us  a  more  empirical  way  to  detect  trends  in  language  use  
–  how  words  and  phrases  tend  to  reoccur—across  a  large  number  of  texts,  which  
might  signal  a  ‘Discourse’,  and  also  to  detect  if  and  how  such  language  use  
changes  over  time  (Baker,  2005;  2006).    
 
The  study  by  Baker  and  McEnery  (2005)  on  the  portrayal  of  refugees  and  asylum  
seekers  in  public  discourse,  an  excerpt  of  which  is  reprinted  in  Section  D10,  is  a  
good  example  of  how  corpus-­‐assisted  analysis  can  help  to  uncover  patterns  of  
language  use  that  point  to  the  existence  of  different  ‘Discourses’  associated  with  
a  particular  issue.  Other  examples  include  Hardt-­‐Mautner’s  1995  study  of  British  
newspaper  editorials  on  the  European  Union,  Rey’s  2001  study  of  gender  and  
language  in  the  popular  U.S.  television  series  Star  Trek,  and  Baker’s  (2005)  study  
of  various  ‘Discourses’  surrounding  male  homosexuality  in  Britain  and  America.    
 
Of  course,  being  able  to  detect  ‘Discourses’  through  the  computer  analysis  of  
corpora  requires  the  creative  combination  of  multiple  analytical  procedures,  and  
it  also  necessarily  involves  a  large  amount  of  interpretative  work  by  the  analyst.  
Corpus-­‐assisted  discourse  analysis  is  not  a  science,  it  is  an  art,  and  perhaps  the  
biggest  danger  of  employing  it  is  that  the  analyst  comes  to  see  it  as  somehow  
more  ‘scientific’  than  the  close  analysis  of  texts  just  because  computers  and  
quantification  are  involved.  The  computer  analysis  of  corpora  do  not  provide  
discourse  analysts  with  answers.  Rather,  they  provide  them  with  additional  
information  to  make  their  educated  guesses  even  more  educated  and  their  
theory  building  more  evidence-­‐based.  
 
 

Theory  or  Method?    

 
One  of  the  differences  between  corpus-­‐assisted  discourse  analysis  and  the  other  
approaches  to  discourse  we  have  presented  in  this  book  is  that,  while  
approaches  like  genre  analysis,  conversation  analysis,  and  the  ethnography  of  
communication  each  explicitly  advance  a  particular  theory  of  discourse,  corpus-­‐
assisted  discourse  analysis  is  often  seen  to  be  ‘theory-­‐neutral’.  That  is,  it  is  
viewed  more  as  a  method  for  assisting  in  the  application  of  different  theories.  
Thus,  one  can  use  corpora  in  doing  genre  analysis,  conversation  analysis,  
pragmatics,  or  critical  discourse  analysis.    
 
Here’  however,  it  would  be  useful  to  recall  some  of  the  points  we  made  in  our  
discussion  of  mediated  discourse  analysis  in  Section  A8  about  the  nature  of  
‘cultural  tools’.    Since  all  tools  make  certain  kinds  of  actions  easier  and  others  
more  difficult,  there  is  really  no  such  thing  as  an  ideologically-­‐neutral  tool.  The  

  42  
computer-­‐assisted  analysis  of  corpora  has  certain  affordances  and  constraints  
which  make  it  more  compatible  with  some  approaches  to  discourse  and  less  
compatible  with  others.  In  particular,  while  it  seems  especially  suited  for  
approaches  which  concern  themselves  with  the  ways  texts  and  conversations  are  
structured  or  patterned  (like  genre  analysis  and  conversation  analysis),  it  is  
perhaps  less  suitable  for  approaches  which  focus  more  on  the  social  context  of  
communication  (like  the  ethnography  of  speaking).    

  43  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

SECTION  B  
 
DEVELOPMENT:  APPROACHES  TO    
DISCOURSE  ANALYSIS  

  44  
B1  THREE  WAYS  OF  LOOKING  AT  DISCOURSE  
 
Over  the  years  people  have  approached  the  study  of  discourse  in  many  different  
ways,  and  throughout  this  book  we  will  explore  some  of  these  ways  of  analyzing  
discourse  and  practice  applying  them  to  texts  and  conversations  from  our  own  
lives.  For  now  it  is  enough  to  say  that  people  who  analyze  discourse  have  
basically  gone  about  it  from  three  different  perspectives  based  on  three  different  
definitions  of  what  discourse  is.    
 
Some  have  taken  a  formal  approach  to  discourse,  defining  it  simply  as  ‘language  
above  the  level  of  the  clause  or  sentence.’  Those  working  from  this  definition  
often  try  to  understand  the  kinds  of  rules  and  conventions  that  govern  the  ways  
we  join  clauses  and  sentences  together  to  make  texts.    
 
Others  take  a  more  functional  approach,  defining  discourse  as  ‘language  in  use’.  
This  definition  leads  to  questions  about  how  people  use  language  to  do  things  
like  make  requests,  issue  warnings,  and  apologize  in  different  kinds  of  situations  
and  how  we  interpret  what  other  people  are  trying  to  do  when  they  speak  or  
write.    
 
Finally,  there  are  those  who  take  what  we  might  call  a  social  approach,  defining  
discourse  as  a  kind  of  social  practice.  What  is  meant  by  this  is  that  the  way  we  
use  language  is  tied  up  with  the  way  we  construct  different  social  identities  and  
relationships  and  participate  in  different  kinds  of  groups  and  institutions.  It  is  
tied  up  with  issues  of  what  we  believe  to  be  right  and  wrong,  who  has  power  
over  whom,  and  what  we  have  to  do  and  say  to  ‘fit  in’  to  our  societies  in  different  
ways.    
 
Although  these  three  different  approaches  to  discourse  are  often  treated  as  
separate,  and  are  certainly  associated  with  different  historical  traditions  and  
different  individual  discourse  analysts,  the  position  we  will  be  taking  in  this  book  
is  that  good  discourse  analysis  requires  that  we  take  into  account  all  three  of  
these  perspectives.  Instead  of  three  separate  definitions  of  discourse,  they  are  
better  seen  as  three  interrelated  aspects  of  discourse.  The  way  people  use  
language  cannot  really  be  separated  from  the  way  it  is  put  together,  and  the  way  
people  use  language  to  show  who  they  are  and  what  they  believe  cannot  be  
separated  from  the  things  people  are  using  language  to  do  in  particular  
situations.    
 

Language  above  the  clause  

 
The  use  of  the  term  ‘discourse’  to  mean  language  above  the  level  of  the  sentence  
or  the  clause  probably  originated  with  the  linguist  Zellig  Harris,  who,  back  in  the  
1950s,  wanted  to  take  the  study  of  linguistics  to  a  new  level.  Before  this,  linguists  
had  come  a  long  way  in  understanding  how  sounds  are  put  together  to  form  
words  and  how  words  are  put  together  to  form  sentences.  What  Harris  wanted  

  45  
to  do  was  to  understand  how  sentences  are  put  together  to  form  texts.    
 
The  idea  that  texts  could  be  analyzed  in  terms  their  formal  structure  was  actually  
very  popular  in  the  early  and  mid  20th  century,  even  before  Harris  invented  the  
term  ‘discourse  analysis’,  especially  in  the  field  of  literature.  One  group  of  
literary  critics  called  the  Russian  Formalists,  for  example,  tried  to  apply  the  same  
kinds  of  methods  people  used  to  analyze  the  grammar  of  sentences  to  analyzing  
stories  and  novels.  Perhaps  the  most  famous  was  Vladimir  Propp,  who  tried  to  
come  up  with  a  ‘grammar  of  stories’  by  studying  Russian  folk  tales.    
 
The  method  that  Harris  proposed  for  the  analysis  of  discourse,  which  he  called  
‘distributional  analysis’,  was  not  much  different  from  how  people  go  about  doing  
grammatical  analysis.  The  idea  was  to  identify  particular  linguistic  features  and  
determine  how  they  occurred  in  texts  relative  to  other  features,  that  is,  which  
features  occurred  next  to  other  features  or  ‘in  the  same  environment’  with  them.  
However,  as  you  will  see  from  the  excerpt  from  Harris’s  seminal  paper  reprinted  
in  Section  D1,  his  ambitions  went  beyond  simply  understanding  how  linguistic  
features  are  distributed  throughout  texts.  He  was  also  interested  in  
understanding  how  these  features  correlate  with  non-­‐linguistic  behavior  beyond  
texts,  that  is,  how  the  form  that  texts  take  is  related  to  the  social  situations  in  
which  they  occur.    It  was  really  left  to  discourse  analysts  who  came  after  him,  
however,  to  figure  out  exactly  how  the  relationship  between  texts  and  the  social  
contexts  in  which  they  are  used  could  be  fruitfully  studied.    
 
When  focusing  on  the  formal  aspect  of  discourse,  we  are  mostly  interested  in  
how  the  different  elements  of  texts  or  conversations  are  put  together  to  form  
unified  wholes.  In  this  respect,  we  usually  look  for  two  kinds  of  things.  We  look  
for  linguistic  features  (words  and  grammar),  which  help  to  link  different  parts  of  
the  text  or  conversation  together,  and  we  look  at  the  overall  pattern  of  the  text  or  
conversation.  As  we  said  in  Section  A2,  we  can  refer  to  these  two  things  as  1)  
cohesion  (how  pieces  of  the  text  are  ‘stuck  together’)  and  2)  coherence  (the  
overall  pattern  or  sequence  of  elements  in  a  text  or  conversation  that  conforms  
to  our  expectations  about  how  different  kinds  of  texts  or  interactions  ought  to  be  
structured).  We  will  deal  with  these  two  concepts  in  more  detail  in  the  Section  
B2.    

 
Language  in  use  
 
The  second  aspect  of  discourse  that  discourse  analysts  focus  on  is  how  people  
actually  use  language  to  get  things  done  in  specific  contexts.  In  fact,  as  was  
pointed  out  in  Section  A1,  it  is  often  very  difficult  to  understand  what  a  piece  of  
language  means  without  referring  to  the  social  context  in  which  it  is  being  used  
and  what  the  person  who  is  using  it  is  trying  to  do.    
 
This  view  of  discourse  grew  out  of  the  work  of  a  number  of  important  scholars  
including  Michael  Halliday,  whose  approach  to  the  study  of  grammar  differed  
markedly  from  earlier  approaches  by  focusing  less  on  the  forms  language  takes  
and  more  on  the  social  functions  accomplished  by  language,  and  the  work  of  the  

  46  
British  philosophers  John  L.  Austin  and  Paul  Grice  who  laid  the  foundation  for  
what  we  call  pragmatics  (the  study  of  how  people  do  things  with  language).  
Another  important  figure  who  promoted  this  view  of  discourse  is  the  applied  
linguist  H.G.  Widdowson,  who  approached  the  whole  problem  of  language  use  
from  the  perspective  of  language  learning,  noting  that  learning  a  foreign  
language  requires  more  than  just  learning  how  to  make  grammatical  sentences;  
it  also  involves  being  able  to  use  the  language  to  accomplish  things  in  the  world.    
 
There  are  a  number  of  ways  to  study  language  in  use.  One  way  is  to  consider  
discourse  itself  as  a  kind  of  action,  and  to  explore  how,  when  we  say  things  or  
write  things,  we  are  actually  doing  things  like  apologizing,  promising,  
threatening  or  making  requests  (as  we  noted  in  Section  A5).  Another  way  to  
consider  language  in  use  is  to  explore  the  role  of  discourse  in  certain  kinds  of  
activities  and  to  examine  how  different  kinds  of  discourse  make  certain  kinds  of  
actions  or  activities  either  easier  or  more  difficult  to  perform  (an  idea  we  
elaborated  on  in  Section  A8).    Finally,  we  might  consider  how  people  use  
discourse  strategically  to  try  to  communicate  their  interpretation  of  a  situation  
or  to  manage  their  relationships  with  the  people  with  whom  they  are  
communicating  (as  we  discussed  in  Section  A6).    
 

 Language  and  ‘Social  practice’  

 
The  third  aspect  of  discourse  has  to  do  with  the  role  of  language  in  ‘social  
practice’.  Language  is  seen  not  just  as  a  system  for  making  meaning,  but  as  part  
of  larger  systems  through  which  people  construct  social  identities  and  social  
realities.  Different  people  use  language  in  different  ways.  An  English  teacher  
talks  differently  than  a  hip-­‐hop  artist.  And  these  different  ways  of  talking  help  to  
show  who  we  are  and  also  reflect  our  different  ideas  about  the  world,  different  
beliefs,  and  different  values.    
 
This  view  of  discourse  probably  owes  the  most  to  the  French  philosopher  Michel  
Foucault,  who  argued  that  discourse  is  the  main  tool  through  which  we  construct  
‘knowledge’  and  exert  power  over  other  people.  Different  kinds  of  discourse  (or  
‘discourses’)  are  associated  with  different  kinds  of  people  and  different  ‘systems  
of  knowledge’.  Foucault  spoke,  for  example,  of  ‘clinical  discourse,  economic  
discourse,  the  discourse  of  natural  history,  (and)  psychiatric  discourse’  (1972:  
121).  The  American  discourse  analyst  James  Gee  uses  a  capital  ‘D’  to  distinguish  
this  view  of  discourse  from  the  others  we  have  talked  about.  For  him,  
‘Discourses’  are  ‘ways  of  being  in  the  world,  or  forms  of  life  which  integrate  
words,  acts,  values,  beliefs,  attitudes,  and  social  identities’  (1996:  127).  
 
This  aspect  of  discourse  leads  us  to  explore  how  people  use  language  to  advance  
certain  versions  of  reality  and  certain  relationships  of  power,  and  also  how  our  
beliefs,  values  and  social  institutions  are  constructed  through  and  supported  by  
discourse.  A  central  principle  of  this  view  of  discourse  is  that  discourse  is  always  
‘ideological’,  meaning  that  discourse  always  has  ‘an  agenda’,  that  it  always  ends  
up  serving  the  interests  of  certain  people  over  those  of  others.    
 

  47  
As  was  stated  above,  it  is  difficult  to  look  at  discourse  in  any  meaningful  way  
from  only  one  of  these  perspectives.  Simply  looking  at  how  texts  are  put  
together,  for  example,  while  it  may  be  interesting,  has  limited  practical  value.  At  
the  same  time,  you  cannot  really  make  broad  statements  about  ‘power’  or  
‘ideology’  in  a  text  without  first  understanding  some  basic  things  about  how  the  
text  is  put  together  and  how  people  are  actually  using  it  in  specific  social  
contexts  to  perform  specific  actions.    
 
  Look  deeper  into  this  topic  online  

  48  
B2  COHESION  AND  COHERENCE  
 

Earlier  we  said  that  one  of  the  most  basic  tasks  for  a  discourse  analyst  is  to  
future  out  what  makes  a  text  a  text  and  what  makes  a  conversation  and  
conversation,  in  other  words,  to  figure  out  what  gives  text  and  conversations  
texture.  Texture,  we  said,  comes  from  cohesion  and  coherence.  Cohesion  primarily  
has  to  do  with  linguistic  features  in  the  text,  and  coherence  has  to  do  with  the  
kind  of  ‘framework’  with  which  the  reader  approaches  the  text  and  what  he  or  
she  wants  to  use  the  text  to  do.    

This  is  perhaps  a  bit  misleading,  possibly  making  you  think  that,  when  it  comes  
to  cohesion,  the  reader  doesn’t  have  to  do  any  work,  and  in  the  case  of  coherence  
the  expectations  in  the  mind  of  the  reader  are  more  important  than  what  is  
actually  in  the  text.  This  is  not  the  case.  In  fact,  what  creates  cohesion  is  not  just  
the  linguistic  features  within  the  text  alone,  but  the  fact  that  these  features  lead  
readers  to  perform  certain  mental  operations  –  to  locate  and  take  note  of  earlier  
or  later  parts  of  the  text  as  they  are  going  through  it.    

For  example,  if  I  were  to  say,  ‘Lady  Gaga  doesn’t  appeal  to  me,  but  my  sister  loves  
her’,  in  order  to  understand  the  meaning  of  ‘her’  in  the  second  clause,  you  have  
to  do  some  mental  work.  Not  only  do  you  need  to  refer  back  to  the  first  clause,  
you  also  have  to  be  smart  enough  to  know  that  ‘her’  refers  to  Lady  Gaga  and  not  
my  sister.  Thus,  cohesion  is  the  quality  in  a  text  that  forces  you  to  look  either  
backward  or  forward  in  the  text  in  order  to  make  sense  of  the  things  you  read,  
and  through  your  acts  of  looking  backward  and  forward  the  text  takes  on  a  
quality  of  connectedness.  

Similarly,  to  say  that  coherence  is  a  matter  of  the  ‘frameworks’  or  sets  of  
expectations  that  we  bring  to  texts,  does  not  mean  that  what  is  actually  in  the  
text  is  any  less  important.  Concrete  features  must  exist  in  the  text  which  are  
often  arranged  in  a  certain  order  and  conform  to  or  ‘trigger’  those  expectations.  
For  example,  for  me  to  interpret  a  text  as  a  shopping  list,  it  must  have  a  certain  
structure  (a  list),  certain  kinds  of  words  (generally  nouns),  and  those  words  
must  represent  things  that  I  am  able  to  purchase  (as  opposed  to  abstract  things  
like  ‘world  peace’  or  unaffordable  items  like  the  Golden  Gate  Bridge).      

Cohesion  
 
Halliday  and  Hasan,  whose  work  is  excerpted  in  Section  D2,  describe  two  broad  
kinds  of  linguistic  devices  that  are  used  to  force  readers  to  engage  in  this  process  
of  backward  and  forward  looking  which  gives  them  a  sense  of  connectedness  in  
texts.  One  type  depends  on  grammar  (which  they  call  grammatical  cohesion)  and  
the  other  type  depends  more  on  the  meanings  of  words  (which  they  call  lexical  
cohesion).  

  49  
  
Devices  used  to  create  grammatical  cohesion  include:  

·  Conjunction  (using  ‘connecting  words’)  

·  Reference  (using  a  pronoun  to  refer  to  another  word)  
·  Substitution  (substituting  one  word  or  phrase  for  another  word  or  
phrase)  
·  Ellipses  (leaving  something  out)  

Lexical  cohesion  involves  the  repetition  of  words  or  of  words  from  the  same  
semantic  field  (e.g.  milk,  tomatoes,  rocket).  

Conjunction  refers  to  the  use  of  various  ‘connecting  words’  (such  as  conjunctions  
like  and  and  but  and  conjunctive  adverbs  like  furthermore  and  however)  to  join  
together  clauses  and  sentences.  Conjunction  causes  the  reader  to  look  back  to  
the  first  clause  in  a  pair  of  joined  clauses  to  make  sense  of  the  second  clause.  The  
important  thing  about  these  ‘connecting  words’  is  that  they  do  not  just  establish  
a  relationship  between  the  two  clauses,  but  that  they  tell  us  what  kind  of  
relationship  it  is.    

‘Connecting  words’,  then,  can  be  grouped  into  different  kinds  depending  on  the  
relationship  they  establish  between  the  clauses  or  sentences  that  they  join  
together.  Some  are  called  additive,  because  they  add  information  to  the  previous  
clause  or  sentence.  Examples  are  ‘and’,  ‘moreover’,  ‘furthermore’,  ‘in  addition’,  ‘as  
well’.  Others  are  called  contrastive  because  they  set  up  some  kind  of  contrast  
with  the  previous  sentence  or  clause.  Examples  are  ‘but’,  ‘however’.  Still  others  
are  called  causative  because  they  set  up  some  kind  of  cause  and  effect  
relationship  between  the  two  sentences  or  clauses.  Examples  of  these  are  
‘because’,  ‘consequently’,  ‘therefore’.  Finally,  some  are  called  sequential  because  
they  indicate  the  order  facts  or  events  come  in.  Examples  are  ‘firstly’,  
‘subsequently’,  ‘then’  and  ‘finally’.  In  the  two  examples  below,  the  first  uses  a  
contrastive  connective  and  the  second  uses  a  causative  connective.  

He  liked  the  exchange  students.  She,  however,  would  have  nothing  to  do  
with  them.  

He  liked  the  exchange  students.  She,  therefore,  would  have  nothing  to  do  
with  them.  

All  connecting  words  cause  the  reader  to  look  back  to  a  previous  clause  (or  
sentence)  in  order  to  understand  the  subsequent  clause  (or  sentence),  and  the  
kind  of  connecting  word  used  guides  the  reader  in  understanding  the  
relationship  between  two  clauses  (or  sentences).  In  the  first  example  given  
above,  the  word  however  causes  the  reader  to  look  back  at  the  first  sentence  to  
find  out  what  the  difference  is  between  her  and  him.  In  the  second  example,  the  
word  therefore  causes  the  reader  to  look  back  at  the  first  sentence  to  find  out  
why  she  won’t  have  anything  to  do  with  the  exchange  students.    

Another  very  common  way  we  make  our  texts  ‘stick  together’  is  by  using  words  
that  refer  to  words  we  used  elsewhere  in  the  text.  This  kind  of  cohesive  device  is  

  50  
known  as  reference.  The  two  examples  above,  besides  using  connecting  words,  
also  use  this  device.  The  word  them  in  the  second  sentence  refers  back  to  the  
exchange  students  in  the  first  sentence,  and  so,  to  make  sense  of  it,  the  reader  is  
forced  to  look  back.  He  and  she  are  also  pronouns  and  presumably  refer  to  
specific  people  who  are  probably  named  at  an  earlier  point  in  the  longer  text  
from  which  these  sentences  were  taken.  The  word  or  group  of  words  that  a  
pronoun  refers  to  is  called  its  antecedent.  What  reference  does,  then,  is  help  the  
reader  to  keep  track  of  the  various  participants  in  the  text  as  he  or  she  reads  
(Eggins,  1994:  95).    

There  are  basically  three  kinds  of  reference:  1)  anaphoric  reference  –  using    
words  that  point  back  to  a  word  used  before:  

 After  Lady  Gaga  appeared  at  the  MTV  Music  Video  Awards  in  a  dress  made  
completely  of  meat,  she  was  criticized  by  animal  rights  groups.      

2)  cataphoric  reference:  Using  words  that  point  forward  to  a  word  that  has  not  
been  used  yet:  

When  she  was  challenged  by  reporters,  Lady  Gaga  insisted  that  the  dress  
was  not  intended  to  offend  anyone.        

3)  Using  words  that  point  to  something  outside  the  text  (exophoric  reference):  

If  you  want  to  know  more  about  this  controversy,  you  can  read  the  
comments  people  have  left  on  animal  rights  blogs.  

The  definite  article  (the)  can  also  be  a  form  of  anaphoric  reference  in  that  it  
usually  refers  the  reader  back  to  an  earlier  mention  of  a  particular  noun.    

Lady  Gaga  appeared  in  a  dress  made  completely  of  meat.  The  dress  was  
designed  by  Franc  Fernandez.  

Substitution  is  similar  to  reference  except  rather  than  using  pronouns,  other  
words  are  used  to  refer  to  an  antecedent,  which  has  either  appeared  earlier  or  
will  appear  later.  In  the  sentence  below,  for  example,  the  word  one  is  used  to  
substitute  for  dress.    

Besides  wearing  a  meat  dress,  Lady  Gaga  has  also  worn  a  hair  one,  which  
was  designed  by  Chris  March.    

Substitution  can  also  be  used  to  refer  to  the  verb  or  the  entire  predicate  of  a  
clause,  as  in  the  example  below.    

  If  Lady  Gaga  was  intending  to  shock  people,  she  succeeded  in  doing  so.    

Ellipsis  is  the  omission  of  a  noun,  verb,  or  phrase  on  the  assumption  that  it  is  
understood  from  the  linguistic  context.  In  order  to  fill  in  the  gap(s),  readers  need  
to  look  back  to  previous  clauses  or  sentences,  as  in  the  example  below.    

  51  
 There  is  much  to  support  the  view  that  it  is  clothes  that  wear  us,  and  not  
we,  them.  (Virginia  Woolf)  

All  of  the  devices  mentioned  above  are  examples  of  grammatical  cohesion,  the  
kind  of  cohesion  that  is  created  because  of  the  grammatical  relationship  between  
words.  Lexical  cohesion  occurs  as  a  result  of  the  semantic  relationship  between  
words.  The  simplest  kind  of  lexical  cohesion  is  when  words  are  repeated.  But  a  
more  common  kind  is  the  repetition  of  words  related  to  the  same  subject.  We  call  
these  ‘chains’  of  similar  kinds  of  words  that  run  through  texts  lexical  chains.  In  
the  following  text,  for  example,  besides  the  use  of  reference  (who,  it,  she),  the  
clauses  are  held  together  by  the  repetition  of  the  verb  ‘to  wear’  and  of  other  
words  having  to  do  with  clothing  and  fashion  (bikini,  Vogue  –  a  famous  fashion  
magazine,  dress,  and  outfits).    

Lady  Gaga,  who  came  under  fire  recently  for  wearing  a  meat  bikini  on  the  
cover  of  Vogue  Hommes  Japan,  wore  a  raw  meat  dress  at  last  night's  
VMAs.  It  was  one  of  many  outfits  she  wore  throughout  the  night.  
(Oldenberg,  2010)    

Taken  together,  these  words  form  a  lexical  chain,  which  helps  to  bind  the  text  
together.    Lexical  chains  not  only  make  a  text  more  cohesive  but  also  highlight  
the  topic  or  topics  (such  as  ‘fashion’,  ‘entertainment’,  ‘technology’)  that  the  text  is  
about  –  and  so  can  provide  context  for  determining  the  meaning  of  ambiguous  
words  (such  as  ‘rocket’  in  the  example  of  the  shopping  list  given  in  Section  A2).  
In  fact,  searching  for  lexical  chains  is  one  the  main  techniques  used  in  computer  
automated  text  categorization  and  summarization.    

Some  texts  may  make  use  of  a  lot  of  these  devices,  whereas  others  may  use  very  
few  of  them.  Halliday  and  Hasan  (1976:  297)  refer  to  texture  in  text  as  being  
either  ‘tight’  –  meaning  that  there  are  many  cohesive  devices  –  or  ‘loose’,  –
meaning  that  there  are  fewer.  What  often  determines  the  extent  to  which  these  
devices  are  used  is  how  much  they  are  needed  for  readers  to  make  the  kinds  of  
connections  they  need  to  make  to  understand  the  text.  Communication  generally  
operates  according  to  the  principle  of  ‘least  effort’.  There  is  no  need,  for  example,  
for  me  to  insert  the  word  ‘and’  after  every  item  in  my  shopping  list  for  me  to  
know  that  I  need  to  buy  tomatoes  in  addition  to  buying  milk.  One  of  the  
challenges  for  people  who  are  producing  texts,  therefore,  is  figuring  out  what  
kinds  of  connections  readers  can  make  for  themselves  by  invoking  what  they  
already  know  about  the  world  and  about  this  particular  kind  of  text  (coherence)  
and  what  connections  need  top  be  spelled  out  explicitly  in  the  text  (cohesion).      
 
  Look  deeper  into  this  topic  online  
 

Coherence  
 
As  the  shopping  list  we  discussed  in  Section  A2  illustrates,  what  makes  a  text  a  
text  is  often  as  much  a  matter  of  the  interpretative  framework  that  the  reader  
brings  to  the  text  as  it  is  of  anything  internal  to  the  text.  The  relationship  

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between  the  words  ‘tomatoes’  and  ‘rocket’  becomes  meaningful  to  a  reader  
based  on  his  or  her  understanding  of  what  a  shopping  list  is  and  what  it  is  used  
for.  This  aspect  of  texture  is  known  as  coherence,  and  it  has  to  do  with  our  
expectations  about  the  way  elements  in  a  text  ought  to  be  organized  and  the  
kinds  of  social  actions  (like  shopping)  that  are  associated  with  a  given  text.  
 
The  text  below    (Figure  B2.1)  is  a  good  example  of  how  we  sometimes  need  to  
apply  our  experience  with  past  texts  and  with  certain  conventions  that  have  
grown  up  in  our  society  in  order  to  understand  new  texts  we  encounter.  
 

 
  Figure  B2.1  Advertisement  from  Body  Coach.Net  
 
 
For  most  people,  as  soon  as  they  see  the  words  ‘before’  and  ‘after’,  a  certain  body  
of  knowledge  is  ‘triggered’  based  on  texts  they  have  seen  in  the  past  which  
contain  these  words  such  as  advertisements  for  beauty  products.  In  such  texts,  
‘before’  is  usually  portrayed  as  ‘bad’  and  ‘after’  is  usually  portrayed  as  ‘good’,  and  
the  product  being  advertised  is  portrayed  as  the  ‘agent’  that  causes  the  
transformation  from  ‘before’  to  ‘after’.  This  structure  is  a  variation  on  what  
Michael  Hoey  (1983)  has  called  the  ‘Problem-­‐Solution’  pattern,  which  underlies  
many  texts  from  business  proposals  to  newspaper  editorials.    
 
The  challenge  this  ad  presents  for  the  reader  is  that  there  is  no  explicit  
information  about  what  is  meant  by  ‘before’  and  ‘after’  other  than  a  curved  line  
drawn  down  the  center  of  the  page.  In  order  to  interpret  this  line,  we  must  make  
reference  to  the  smaller  words  in  the  lower  right  corner  which  give  the  name  of  
the  advertiser:  Body  Coach.Net,  and  the  slogan:  For  a  perfect  body.  This  
information  creates  for  readers  an  interpretive  framework  based  on  their  
knowledge  of  the  kind  of  business  such  a  company  might  be  engaged  in  and  
cultural  notions  of  what  a  ‘perfect  body’  might  look  like.  Once  this  framework  is  
triggered,  most  readers  have  no  trouble  interpreting  the  space  formed  on  the  
‘before’  side  of  the  ad  as  portraying  the  stomach  of  an  overweight  person,  and  
the  space  formed  on  the  ‘after’  side  as  the  ‘hourglass’  shape  associated  (at  least  

  53  
in  the  culture  in  which  this  ad  appeared)  with  female  beauty,  and  of  the  company  
–  Body  Coach.Net  and  the  product  that  it  sells–  as  the  agents  of  this  
transformation.    
 
There  are  a  number  of  different  kinds  of  interpretative  frameworks  that  we  use  
to  make  sense  of  texts.  One  kind,  which  we  will  discuss  further  in  the  next  
section,  we  might  call  a  generic  framework.  This  kind  of  framework  is  based  on  
the  expectations  we  have  about  different  kinds  of  texts,  the  kinds  of  information  
we  expect  to  encounter  in  texts  of  different  kinds  and  the  order  in  which  we  
expect  that  information  to  be  presented,  along  with  other  kinds  of  lexical  or  
grammatical  features  we  expect  to  encounter.  In  the  example  above,  for  instance,  
it  is  partially  our  knowledge  of  the  structure  of  ‘before  and  after  ads’  that  helps  
us  to  make  sense  of  this  particular  ad.    
 
Part  of  what  forms  such  generic  frameworks  is  that  different  parts  of  a  text  are  
not  just  grammatically  and  lexically  related,  but  that  they  are  conceptually  and  
procedurally  related  –  in  other  words,  that  they  appear  in  a  certain  logical  or  
predictable  sequence.  Texts  following  the  ‘Problem  –  Solution’  pattern,  for  
example,  begin  by  presenting  a  problem  and  then  go  on  to  present  one  or  more  
solutions  to  the  problem.  This  important  principle  in  discourse  analysis  has  its  
origins  largely  in  cognitive  science  and  early  research  in  artificial  intelligence  by  
people  like  Schank  and  Abelson  (1977),  who  pointed  out  that  many  human  
activities  are  governed  by  conventional,  sequentially  ordered,  multi-­‐step  
procedures  (which  they  called  ‘scripts’),  and  Rumelhart,  (1975),  who  pointed  out  
that,  in  a  similar  way,  texts  like  narratives  also  exhibit  conventional  structures  
based  on  predictable  sequences  of  actions  and  information  (which  he  called  
‘schema’).  An  excerpt  from  Rumelhart’s  classic  article  ‘Notes  on  a  Schema  for  
Stories’  is  reprinted  in  Section  D2.    
 
But  not  all  of  the  knowledge  we  use  to  make  sense  of  texts  comes  from  our  
knowledge  about  the  conventions  associated  with  different  kinds  of  texts.  Some  
of  this  knowledge  is  part  of  larger  conceptual  frameworks  that  we  build  up  based  
on  our  understanding  of  how  the  world  works.  We  will  use  the  term  cultural  
models  to  describe  these  frameworks.  James  Paul  Gee  (2010)  calls  cultural  
models  ‘videotapes  in  the  mind’  based  on  experiences  we  have  had  and  depicting  
what  we  take  to  be  prototypical  (or  ‘normal’)  people,  objects  and  events.  To  
illustrate  the  concept  he  points  out  that  we  would  never  refer  to  the  Pope  as  a  
‘bachelor’,  even  though  the  Pope,  as  an  unmarried  adult  male,  fulfills  the  
conditions  for  the  dictionary  definition  of  the  word,  because  he  does  not  fit  into  
our  cultural  model  of  what  a  bachelor  is.    
 
Cultural  models  regarding  both  the  kind  of  work  ‘coaches’  do  and  about  what  
constitutes  a  ‘perfect  body’  are  central  to  our  ability  to  interpret  the  ad  above,  
and  especially  for  our  understanding  of  the  meaning  of  the  two  shapes  formed  by  
the  line  drawn  down  the  center  of  the  page.    
 
The  important  thing  to  remember  about  cultural  models  (and,  for  that  matter,  
generic  frameworks)  is  that  they  are  cultural.  In  other  words,  they  reflect  the  
beliefs  and  values  of  a  particular  group  of  people  in  a  particular  place  at  a  

  54  
particular  point  in  history.  The  ad  reprinted  above  would  be  totally  
incomprehensible  for  people  in  many  societies  outside  of  our  own  because  they  
would  not  share  either  the  knowledge  of  ‘before  and  after  ads’  or  the  beliefs  
about  physical  attractiveness  that  we  have.  It  is  even  more  important  to  
remember  that  such  texts  do  not  just  reflect  such  expectations,  values  and  
beliefs,  but  also  reinforce  them.  Every  time  we  encounter  a  text  like  the  one  
above,  these  generic  frameworks  and  cultural  models  and  the  habitual  ways  of  
looking  at  the  world  associated  with  them  are  strengthened.    
 
  Look  deeper  into  this  topic  online  

  55  
B3  ALL  THE  RIGHT  MOVES  
 
Texts  that  are  structured  according  to  particular  generic  frameworks  are  called  
genres.  But,  as  we  noted  in  Section  A3,  genres  are  more  than  just  texts;  they  are  
means  by  which  people  get  things  done,  and  the  way  they  are  structured  depends  
crucially  on  what  the  particular  people  using  a  genre  want  or  need  to  do.  In  other  
words,  what  determines  the  way  a  particular  genre  is  put  together  is  its  
communicative  purpose,  and  so  this  must  be  our  central  focus  in  analyzing  
genres.    
 
Usually,  the  overall  communicative  purpose  of  a  genre  can  be  broken  down  into  
a  number  of  steps  that  users  need  to  follow  in  order  to  achieve  the  desired  
purpose  —  rather  like  the  steps  in  a  recipe  —  and  typically  the  most  important  
constraints  and  conventions  regarding  how  a  genre  is  structured  involve  1)  
which  steps  must  be  included,  and  2)  the  order  in  which  they  should  appear.  In  
the  field  of  genre  analysis  these  steps  are  known  as  moves.    
 
John  Swales,  the  father  of  genre  analysis,  illustrated  the  idea  of  moves  in  his  
analysis  of  introductions  to  academic  articles.  Instead  of  asking  the  traditional  
question:  ‘how  is  this  text  structured?’,  Swales  asked  ‘What  do  writers  of  such  
texts  need  to  do  in  order  to  achieve  their  desired  purpose?  (which,  in  the  case  of  
an  introduction  to  an  academic  article,  is  mainly  getting  people  to  believe  that  
the  article  is  worth  reading).  In  answering  this  question,  Swales  identified  four  
moves  characteristic  of  such  texts.  An  introduction  to  an  academic  article,  he  said,  
typically:      
 
1.  Establishes  the  field  in  which  the  writer  of  the  study  is  working;  
2.  Summarizes  the  related  research  or  interpretations  on  one  aspect  of  
the  field;  
3.  Creates  a  research  space  or  interpretive  space  (a  ‘niche’)  for  the  
present  study  by  indicating  a  gap  in  current  knowledge  or  by  raising  
questions;  and  
4.  Introduces  the  study  by  indicating  what  the  investigation  being  
reported  will  accomplish  for  the  field.  (adapted  from  Swales  1990)    
 
Of  course,  not  all  introductions  to  academic  articles  contain  all  four  of  these  
moves  in  exactly  the  order  presented  by  Swales.  Some  article  introductions  may  
contain  only  some  of  these  moves,  and  some  might  contain  different  moves.  
Furthermore,  the  ways  these  moves  are  realized  might  be  very  different  for  
articles  about  engineering  and  articles  about  English  literature.  The  point  that  
Swales  was  trying  to  make,  however,  was  not  that  these  moves  are  universal  or  
in  some  way  obligatory,  but  that  these  are  the  prototypical  moves  one  would  
expect  to  occur  in  this  genre,  and  understanding  these  default  expectations  is  the  
first  step  to  understanding  how  ‘expert  users’  might  creatively  flout  these  
conventions.    
 

  56  
At  the  same  time,  it  is  important  to  remember  that  not  all  genres  are  equally  
‘conventionalized’;  while  some  genres  have  very  strict  rules  about  which  moves  
should  be  included  and  what  order  they  should  be  in,  other  genres  exhibit  much  
more  variety  (see  for  example  the  weblog  entries  discussed  Section  C3).    
 
One  genre  which  has  a  particularly  consistent  set  of  communicative  moves  is  the  
genre  of  the  ‘personal  advertisement’  (sometimes  called  the  ‘dating  
advertisement’)  which  sometimes  appears  in  the  classified  sections  of  
newspapers  and,  increasingly,  on  online  social  media  and  dating  sites.  The  
following  is  an  example  given  by  Justine  Coupland  in  her  1996  study  of  dating  
advertisement  in  British  newspapers:    
 
Sensual,  imaginative  brunette,  25,  artistic,  intelligent,  with  a  sense  of  
humour.  Enjoys  home  life,  cooking,  sports,  country  life.  No  ties,  own  
home.  Seeking  a  tall,  strong,  intelligent  fun  companion  with  inner  depth  
for  passionate,  loving  romance,  25-­‐35.  Photo  guarantees  reply.  Must  feel  
able  to  love  Ben  my  dog  too.  London/anywhere.  (Coupland,  1996:  187)  
 
Advertisements  like  this  tend  to  consist  of  five  moves:    
 
1) The  advertiser  describes  himself  or  herself  (Sensual,  imaginative  
brunette…);    
2) The  advertiser  describes  the  kind  of  person  he  or  she  is  looking  for  
(Seeking  tall,  strong,  intelligent…);  
3) The  advertiser  describes  the  kind  of  relationship  or  activities  he  or  
she  wishes  to  engage  in  with  the  target  (for  passionate,  loving  romance);  
4) The  advertiser  gives  additional  information,  makes  a  humorous  remark  
or  issues  a  challenge  (Photo  guarantees  reply.  Must  feel  able  to  love  Ben  my  
dog  too);  and  
5) The  advertiser  indicates  how  he  or  she  can  be  contacted  (by,  for  
example,  giving  a  telephone  number,  an  email  address,  or  a  post  office  box  
–  this  move  is  not  present  in  the  excerpt  Coupland  gives,  but  was  
presumably  present  in  some  form  in  the  original  ad).    

Of  course,  as  we  will  see  below,  dating  ads  in  other  contexts  might  have  slightly  
different  move  structures,  but  all  of  these  moves  will  likely  be  present  in  one  
form  or  another.  The  reason  for  this  is  that  these  moves  (especially  1,  2,  3,  and  5)  
are  essential  if  the  overall  communicative  purpose  of  finding  a  partner  is  to  be  
achieved.    
 
Such  ads  also  tend  to  have  certain  regularities  in  style  and  the  kinds  of  language  
that  is  used  to  realize  these  five  moves.  If  they  appear  in  newspapers,  for  
example,  they  are  often  written  in  a  kind  of  telegraphic  style,  which  omits  non-­‐
essential  function  words  (since  advertisers  usually  have  a  word  limit  or  are  
charged  by  the  word).  In  most  cases,  self-­‐descriptions  and  other-­‐descriptions  
contain  information  about  things  like  age,  appearance,  and  personality  expressed  
in  lists  of  positive  adjectives  (like  young,  fit,  fun-­loving),  and  the  goal  is  almost  
always  a  romantic  or  sexual  relationship  or  activities  (like  opera,  candlelight  

  57  
dinners,  quiet  evenings  at  home)  which  are  normally  associated  with  or  act  as  
euphemisms  for  sex  or  romance.    
 
In  a  sense,  such  advertisements  not  only  serve  the  communicative  purpose  of  
individual  members  of  a  discourse  community  to  find  suitable  partners,  but  they  
also  serve  to  define  and  reinforce  the  values  of  the  discourse  community  as  a  
whole  regarding  what  kinds  of  partners  and  activities  are  considered  desirable.  
Therefore,  being  able  to  compose  such  ads  successfully  is  not  just  about  
portraying  oneself  as  desirable,  but  also  about  portraying  oneself  as  a  competent  
member  of  a  particular  community  of  users.    
 
Of  course,  many  different  kinds  of  discourse  communities  use  this  genre  for  
different  purposes,  and  so  one  might  identify  ‘sub-­‐genres’  of  the  personal  
advertisement  for  communities  of  heterosexual  singles,  gay  men,  seniors,  and  
any  number  of  other  groups,  each  with  different  conventions  and  constraints  on  
what  kind  of  information  should  be  included  and  how  it  should  be  structured.  
One  such  ‘sub-­‐genre’  is  the  matrimonial  advertisement  found  in  communities  of  
South  Asians,  an  example  of  which  is  given  below:    
 
A well-settled uncle invites matrimonial correspondence from slim, fair,
educated South Indian girl, for his nephew, 25 years, smart, M.B.A., green
card holder, 5’6". Full particulars with returnable photo appreciated. (Nanda,
2000: 196-204)
 
The  most  obvious  difference  in  this  ad  from  the  first  example  given  is  that  the  
advertiser  is  not  the  person  who  will  be  engaging  in  the  sought  after  
relationship,  but  rather  a  family  member  acting  as  an  intermediary.  Another  
important  difference  has  to  do  with  the  kinds  of  information  included  in  the  
descriptions.  Ads  of  this  sub-­‐genre  often  include  information  such  as  
immigration  status,  educational  attainment,  income,  caste,  and  religion,  
information  that  is  not  a  common  feature  of  dating  ads  in  other  communities.    
Another  rather  unique  sub-­‐genre  of  personal  ads  are  ads  placed  by  lesbians  in  
search  of  reproductive  partners,  such  as  those  examined  by  Susan  Hogben  and  
Justine  Coupland  in  their  2000  study.  Here  is  an  example  of  such  an  ad:    
 
Loving,  stable  lesbian  couple  require  donor.  Involvement  encouraged  but  
not  essential.  HIV  test  required.  London.  BoxPS34Q.  (Hogben  and  
Coupland  2000:  464)
 
What  is  interesting  about  this  ad  and  many  of  those  like  it  is  that  there  is  no  
elaborate  description  of  the  kind  of  person  sought  or  what  he  or  she  is  sought  for  
beyond  the  use  of  the  term  ‘donor’,  a  term  which,  in  this  community,  presumably  
communicates  all  of  the  necessary  information.  Another  interesting  aspect  of  this  
sub-­‐genre  is  that  the  ‘commenting  move’,  a  move  which  in  typical  heterosexual  
dating  ads  is  usually  of  the  least  consequence,  in  these  ads  often  includes  vital  
information  about  legal  and  health  issues  that  are  central  to  the  practice  of  
surrogate  parenthood.    
 

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The  most  important  point  we  can  take  from  these  two  examples  is  that  generic  
variation  is  not  just  a  matter  of  the  different  values  or  styles  of  different  
discourse  communities,  but  is  also  very  often  a  function  of  differences  in  the  
overall  communicative  purpose  of  the  sub-­‐genre  (finding  a  sexual  partner,  a  wife,  
a  reproductive  partner).    

 
Bending  and  Blending  
 
Despite  the  stylistic  variety  in  personal  advertisements  among  different  
discourse  communities,  this  genre  nevertheless  remains  very  conventionalized,  
with  fairly  strict  constraints  on  what  is  considered  a  relevant  contribution.    
Advertisers  must  describe  themselves,  describe  the  kind  of  person  they  are  
seeking,  and  describe  the  kind  of  relationship  they  want  to  have.  Ironically,  
however,  the  strongly  conventionalized  nature  of  this  genre,  the  fact  that  nearly  
all  examples  of  it  have  more  or  less  the  same  structure,  has  the  potential  to  work  
against  the  overall  communicative  purpose,  which  is  attracting  the  attention  of  
interested  (and  interesting)  readers.  Consequently,  it  is  not  uncommon  for  
‘expert  users’  of  this  genre  to  try  to  make  their  ads  stand  out  by  ‘playing  with’  the  
conventions  of  the  genre.    
 
One  way  of  ‘playing  with’  generic  conventions,  which  Bhatia  (1997)  calls,  genre  
bending,  involves  flouting  the  conventions  of  a  genre  in  subtle  ways  which,  while  
not  altering  the  move  structure  substantially,  makes  a  particular  realization  of  a  
genre  seem  creative  or  unique.  One  way  writers  of  personal  advertisements  
sometimes  bend  this  genre  is  by  flouting  the  expectations  for  self-­‐
aggrandizement  associated  with  it.  The  following  example  comes  from  a  study  by  
Jones  on  gay  personal  ads  in  Hong  Kong:  
 
CHINESE,  20,  STILL  YOUNG,  but  not  good-­‐looking,  not  attractive,  not  sexy,  
not  hairy,  not  fit,  not  tall,  not  experienced,  not  mature,  not  very  intelligent  
but  Thoughtful  and  Sincere,  looking  for  friendship  and  love.  (Jones  2000:  
46)  
 
Another  way  of  ‘playing  with’  generic  conventions  is  to  mix  the  conventions  of  
one  genre  with  another,  a  process  which  Bhatia  (1997)  refers  to  as  genre  
blending.  In  the  following  example  from  Coupland’s  study,  for  instance,  the  
advertiser  blends  the  conventions  of  the  dating  ad  genre  with  the  conventions  of  
another  genre,  namely  ads  for  automobiles.    
 
CLASSIC  LADY  limousine,  mint  condition,  excellent  runner  for  years  seeks  
gentleman  enthusiast  45+  for  TLC  and  excursions  in  the  Exeter  area  BOX  
555L.  (Coupland  1996:  192)  
 
Ironically,  what  both  of  these  writers  are  doing  by  flouting  the  conventions  of  the  
genre  is  subtly  distancing  themselves  from  the  discourse  community  of  users  
while  at  the  same  time  identifying  with  it.  This  seemingly  odd  strategy  is  less  
surprising  when  one  considers  that  most  people  who  post  such  ads  feel  some  
ambivalence  about  identifying  themselves  as  members  of  the  community  of  

  59  
people  who  have  resorted  to  such  means  to  find  a  partner.  By  ‘playing  with’  the  
genre  they  succeed  in  resisting  the  commodifying  nature  of  the  genre  (Coupland  
1996)  and  humanizing  themselves,  one  through  modesty,  and  the  other  through  
humor.  It  is  a  way  of  saying,  ‘even  though  I  am  posting  a  personal  ad,  I  am  not  the  
usual  kind  of  person  who  posts  such  ads.’  
 
While  membership  in  other  discourse  communities  does  not  usually  involve  the  
same  kind  of  ambivalence,  ‘tactical’  aspects  of  using  genres  like  bending  and  
blending  are  common  in  nearly  all  communities,  and,  indeed,  are  often  markers  
of  users’  expertise.  Of  course,  in  order  for  blending  to  be  effective  it  must  result  
in  some  sort  of  enhancement  that  contributes  to  the  overall  communicative  
purpose  being  achieved  more  effectively  or  more  efficiently.  Similarly,  when  
bending  a  genre,  one  must  be  careful  not  to  bend  it  to  the  point  of  breaking.  
Whether  a  particular  use  of  a  genre  is  considered  a  creative  innovation  or  an  
embarrassing  failure  is  ultimately  a  matter  of  whether  or  not  the  original  
communicative  purpose  of  the  genre  is  achieved.    
 
 

Modes,  Media  and  Context  

 
A  number  of  other  important  factors  determine  how  genres  are  used  and  how  
they  change.  One,  which  we  deal  with  in  more  detail  in  a  later  Sections  A9  and  
B9,  has  to  do  with  the  different  modes  (e.g.  writing,  graphics,  video)  that  are  
available  for  constructing  the  genre.  Another,  which  we  will  discuss  in  Section  
B8,  has  to  do  with  the  media  through  which  genres  are  produced  and  distributed.    
 
Both  of  these  factors  are  important  in  relation  to  the  genre  we  have  been  
discussing,  personal  advertisements,  given  the  fact  that  recently  this  genre  has,  
to  a  large  extent,  migrated  online.  Nowadays  it  is  more  likely  that  one  would  
encounter  such  an  advertisement  on  the  Internet  than  in  a  newspaper.  As  a  
result  of  this  migration,  the  genre  itself  has  changed  dramatically.    
First,  it  has  changed  in  terms  of  the  different  modes  that  are  available  to  users  to  
realize  the  moves  discussed  above.  Because  it  is  so  easy  to  upload  digital  
photographs  and  even  video,  self-­‐descriptions  in  online  personal  advertisements  
are  not  dependent  on  text  alone.    
 
Second,  websites  that  host  such  advertisements  often  require  users  to  fill  out  
web  forms,  which  specify  exactly  which  information  should  be  included  and  
render  that  information  in  a  predetermined  format.  Such  standardization  leads  
to  more  uniformity,  but  also  makes  it  easier  for  users  to  electronically  search  
through  thousands  of  ads  using  keywords.    
 
Third,  Internet-­‐based  dating  advertisements  include  all  kinds  of  ways  for  the  
advertiser  and  target  to  interact,  including  sending  online  messages,  engaging  in  
real-­‐time  video  chat,  or  exchanging  forms  of  communication  unique  to  this  
medium  like  virtual  ‘kisses’,  ‘pokes’  and  ‘hugs’,  ‘winks’  and  ‘hearts’  (see  Jones  
2009a).    
 

  60  
Finally,  with  the  development  of  mobile  technologies,  users  of  such  genres  can  
access  them  anywhere  through  their  mobile  phones  and  use  GPS  tools  to  search  
for  suitable  partners  within  a  certain  radius  of  their  present  location.    
The  point  is  that  genres  inevitably  change,  either  because  the  communicative  
goals  of  users  change  or  because  technologies  for  the  production  or  distribution  
of  texts  introduce  new,  more  efficient  ways  of  fulfilling  old  communicative  goals.  
Every  time  a  genre  changes,  however,  new  sets  of  conventions  and  constraints  
are  introduced,  and  users  need  to  invent  new  ways  to  operate  strategically  
within  these  constraints  and  to  bend  or  blend  the  genre  in  creative  ways.    
 
  Look  deeper  into  this  topic  online  

  61  
B4  CONSTRUCTING  REALITY  
 

Participants  and  Processes    

 
The  main  ways  authors  of  texts  promote  ideologies  is  by  constructing  for  us  
versions  of  reality  in  which  certain  kinds  of  participants  are  excluded,  and  those  
that  are  included  are  linked  to  each  other  in  certain  relationships,  often  based  on  
the  actions  they  are  portrayed  as  engaging  in  (which  we  have  called  processes).    
 
Different  kinds  of  processes  link  participants  in  different  ways.  As  we  have  seen,  
processes  involving  some  kind  of  physical  action  often  link  participants  in  ways  
in  which  one  participant  is  portrayed  as  doing  something  to  or  for  the  other.  
Processes  involving  saying  or  writing,  on  the  other  hand,  often  link  participants  
in  ways  in  which  one  participant  takes  the  position  of  the  speaker  or  writer  and  
the  other  takes  the  position  of  the  listener  or  reader.  Processes  involving  
thinking  and  feeling  usually  link  participants  to  ideas  or  emotions.    
 
Participants  can  also  be  linked  in  various  ways  that  show  their  relationship  with  
each  other:  they  might  be  portrayed  as  equal  or  equivalent  with  linking  verbs  
like  ‘to  be’  or  ‘to  seem’  (as  in  ‘this  ice-­‐cream  is  my  dinner’);  one  participant  might  
be  portrayed  as  possessing  another  with  words  like  ‘to  have’  or  ‘to  contain’  (as  in  
‘this  ice-­‐cream  contains  nuts’);  and  participants  might  be  linked  to  each  other  in  
other  kinds  of  relationship  like  cause  and  effect  with  words  like  ‘to  cause,’    ‘to  
lead  to,’  or  ‘to  result  in’  (as  in  ‘ice-­‐cream  leads  to  obesity’).    
 
Finally,  processes  themselves  can  sometimes  be  transformed  into  participants  
and  linked  to  other  participants  or  other  processes  (as  in  ‘eating  ice-­‐cream  
caused  my  divorce’).  In  this  last  example,  one  process,  the  action  of  eating  ice  
cream,  is  linked  in  a  cause  and  effect  relationship  with  another  process,  the  
speaker’s  getting  divorced  from  his  or  her  spouse.  Turning  a  process  into  a  
participant  is  known  as  nominalization  and  is  often  a  characteristic  of  technical  
or  academic  texts.      
 
One  example  of  how  participants  and  processes  can  be  combined  in  texts  to  
create  certain  versions  of  reality  can  be  found  in  the  warning  labels  that  most  
governments  require  appear  on  cigarette  packets.  These  requirements  did  not  
always  exist,  and  when  the  U.S.  government  first  instituted  them  in  1966,  there  
was  fierce  negotiation  between  legislators  and  tobacco  companies,  who  at  that  
time  still  had  considerable  influence  with  the  government  on  how  the  warnings  
should  be  worded.  The  first  warning  labels  that  appeared  on  cigarettes  in  the  U.S.  
read:    
 
Caution:  Cigarette  Smoking  May  be  Hazardous  to  Your  Health  
 
Here,  the  process  type  used  is  relational  (‘to  be’),  linking  the  nominalized  process  
of  smoking  cigarettes  to  a  possible  attribute:  ‘hazardousness’.  This  link  is  

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weakened  by  the  use  of  the  modal  verb  ‘may’,  which  reduces  the  certainty  of  the  
statement.  One  can  almost  hear  the  voice  of  the  government  competing  with  the  
voice  of  the  tobacco  companies  in  this  statement,  the  one  working  to  claim  that  
cigarette  smoking  is  risky  and  the  other  working  to  undermine  this  claim.    
In  1970,  the  U.S.  Congress  passed  new  legislation,  which  revised  the  warning  to  
read:    
 
Warning:  The  Surgeon  General  Has  Determined  that  Cigarette  Smoking  is  
Dangerous  to  Your  Health  
 
The  first  difference  we  can  notice  about  this  statement  is  that  it  is  now  
characterized  as  a  ‘warning’  rather  than  just  a  ‘caution’.  The  second  thing  we  can  
notice  is  that  the  participants  and  processes  have  changed.  Now  the  main  
participant  is  no  longer  the  nominalized  process  of  ‘cigarette  smoking’  but  a  
person,  the  Surgeon  General,  the  chief  medical  officer  of  the  United  States,  
engaged  in  a  mental  process,  that  of  ‘determining’.  The  statement  in  the  previous  
warning  about  cigarettes  being  hazardous  has  itself  become  a  participant,  the  
thing  that  the  surgeon  general  has  determined,  and  has  been  slightly  modified,  
the  relational  link  becoming  more  certain  (‘is’  rather  than  ‘may  be’),  and  the  
attribute  changed  to  ‘dangerous’.  On  the  one  hand,  it  is  easy  to  see  how  this  
warning  is  in  some  ways  stronger  than  the  previous  one:  ‘dangerous’  seems  
more  serious  than  ‘hazardous’  and  the  voice  of  the  Surgeon  General  seems  to  add  
authority  to  the  statement.  On  the  other  hand,  the  statement  about  the  risk  of  
cigarette  smoking  is  no  longer  the  main  clause  of  the  sentence,  but  has  been  
‘demoted’  to  the  status  of  a  participant.  In  other  words,  while  the  previous  
warning  was  about  cigarette  smoking  and  its  ‘hazardousness,’  this  sentence  is  
about  the  Surgeon  General  and  what  he  (at  the  time,  a  man)  had  determined.    
In  1985,  the  warning  label  was  again  changed  to  read:    
 
SURGEON  GENERAL'S  WARNING:  Smoking  Causes  Lung  Cancer,  Heart  
Disease,  Emphysema,  And  May  Complicate  Pregnancy.  
 
Here,  the  main  participant  is  once  again  the  nominalized  process  ‘smoking’,  but  a  
new  process  has  been  introduced,  the  process  of  ‘causing’.  This  process  is  also  a  
relational  one,  but  it  portrays  a  different  kind  of  relationship.  Rather  than  simply  
talking  about  an  attribute  of  smoking,  it  places  smoking  in  a  cause  and  effect  
relationship  with  a  number  of  serious  diseases  (‘lung  cancer,’  ‘heart  disease’  and  
‘emphysema’).  Smoking’s  relationship  with  ‘pregnancy’,  however,  is  more  
uncertain.  First,  the  modal  verb  ‘may’  weakens  the  relationship  created  by  the  
process.  Second,  the  process  itself,  also  one  of  causation  (‘complicate’  means  ‘to  
cause  to  be  complicated’),  is  much  more  vague.  It  is  uncertain  exactly  how  
pregnancy  might  be  made  ‘complicated’  and  what  the  implications  of  that  might  
be.    
 
It  is  interesting  to  note  that  the  cigarette  warnings  mandated  by  the  government  
in  the  United  States,  the  country  where  most  to  the  world’s  biggest  tobacco  
companies  are  based,  tend  to  portray  cigarettes  as  either  having  certain  
attributes  (being  ‘harmful’)  or  being  in  certain  other  kinds  of  relationships  with  
other  participants  rather  than  doing  things  to  people.  Although  ‘cause’  may  seem  

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to  be  about  doing  something,  it  is  actually  more  about  the  relationship  between  
two  things,  one  thing  leading  to  another  thing.  Warnings  used  in  other  countries,  
on  the  other  hand,  often  use  ‘action  processes.’    One  warning  used  in  Australia,  
for  example  is:    
 
Smoking  harms  unborn  babies    
 
Here  ‘smoking’  is  portrayed  as  doing  something  (harming)  to  someone  (unborn  
babies).  Similarly,  since  2003,  cigarettes  in  the  European  Union  have  carried  
warnings  like:      
 
Smoking  seriously  harms  you  and  others  around  you  
 
Smoking  while  pregnant  harms  your  child  
 
and  the  direct  and  unambiguous  statement:    
 
Smoking  Kills  
 
In  the  examples  above  it  is  clear  how  the  use  of  different  kinds  of  participants  
and  processes  constructs  very  different  versions  of  the  risk  of  cigarette  smoking.  
At  the  same  time,  it  is  important  to  caution  that  searching  for  ideology  in  texts  is  
usually  not  simple  or  straightforward.  One  cannot,  for  example,  say  that  certain  
process  types  or  other  grammatical  features  like  nominalization  always  result  in  
certain  kinds  of  effects.  Rather,  grammar  is  a  resource  that  authors  draw  upon  to  
represent  reality  in  particular  ways.    

 
Constructing  Relationships  
 
Constructing  reality  is  not  just  a  matter  of  representing  what  is  going  on.  It  is  
also  a  matter  of  the  author  of  a  text  constructing  a  certain  kind  of  relationship  
with  the  reader  or  listener  and  communicating  something  about  the  relevance  of  
what  is  going  on  to  him  or  her.  As  stated  before,  one  way  this  is  done  is  to  use  the  
language’s  system  of  modality.  The  use  of  the  modal  verb  ‘may’  in  the  statement  
‘Cigarette  smoking  may  be  hazardous  to  your  health,’  for  example,  creates  in  the  
reader  some  doubt  about  the  certainty  of  the  statement.    
 
Another  way  authors  might  construct  a  relationship  with  readers  is  through  the  
use  of  pronouns  like  ‘you’  and  we’.  By  using  the  possessive  pronoun  ‘your’  in  the  
above  statement,  for  example,  the  authors  of  the  statement  make  the  potential  
‘hazardousness’  of  cigarette  smoking  relevant  to  readers.  Similarly,  the  
statement,  ‘Smoking  seriously  harms  you  and  others  around  you’  makes  the  
harm  of  cigarettes  directly  relevant  by  making  the  reader  a  participant  in  the  
statement  and,  particularly,  the  participant  to  which  the  act  of  ‘harming’  is  being  
done.  This  statement  also  constructs  readers  as  socially  responsible  by  implying  
that  they  would  not  only  wish  to  avoid  harm  to  themselves,  but  also  harm  to  
those  around  them.  An  even  more  striking  example  of  this  technique  can  be  seen  
in  the  Australian  warning  label  below:  

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Protect  children:  don't  make  them  breathe  your  smoke  
 
In  this  example  the  message  is  also  personalized  by  making  the  reader  a  
participant.  In  contrast  to  the  warning  above,  however,  which  positions  the  
reader  as  a  victim  of  cigarette  smoking,  this  warning  positions  the  reader  as  the  
potential  agent  of  harm,  making  children  breathe  smoke  which  is  explicitly  
portrayed  as  ‘belonging  to’  him  or  her.    
 
Finally,  texts  create  relationships  between  authors  and  readers  through  the  use  
of  what  we  have  been  calling  ‘social  languages.’  Consider  the  two  examples  
below.    
 
1)  Smoking  when  pregnant  harms  your  baby  (European  Union)    
 
2)  SURGEON  GENERAL’S  WARNING:  Smoking  By  Pregnant  Women  May  
Result  in  Fetal  Injury,  Premature  Birth,  And  Low  Birth  Weight  (United  
States)    
 
Both  of  these  examples  are  about  the  same  thing:  smoking  by  pregnant  women.  
This  first  text,  however,  constructs  a  reader  who  is  herself  a  pregnant  woman,  
whereas  the  second  constructs  a  reader  who,  while  he  or  she  may  be  interested  
in  ‘pregnant  women’,  may  not  be  one.  Furthermore,  the  first  example  uses  
common,  everyday  language  and  few  nominalizations,  constructing  the  author  as  
a  person  not  so  different  from  the  reader,  someone  akin  to  a  friend  or  a  relative.    
 
The  second  example,  on  the  other  hand,  uses  very  dense  scientific  language  and  
nominalizations  like  ‘fetal  injury’  in  which  the  process  of  ‘harming’  from  the  first  
example  is  transformed  into  a  noun,  and  the  participant  ‘your  baby’  is  
transformed  into  an  adjective  modifying  that  noun  (‘fetal’).  This  sort  of  language  
constructs  the  author  as  some  kind  of  expert,  perhaps  a  doctor  or  a  research  
scientist,  and  creates  a  considerable  distance  between  him  or  her  and  the  reader.    
 
As  can  be  seen  from  these  examples,  social  languages  and  other  interpersonal  
aspects  of  texts  work  to  portray  the  authors  of  the  texts  as  certain  kinds  of  
people  and  also  construct  readers  of  the  texts  as  certain  kinds  of  people.  Another  
way  to  say  this  is  that  texts  make  available  certain  ‘reading  positions’  (Hodge  and  
Kress,  1988)  that  situate  readers  in  relation  to  the  authors  of  the  text,  the  topic  
that  the  text  deals  with,  and  other  people  or  institutions  relevant  to  the  topic.  
The  extent  to  which  readers  are  able  and  willing  to  occupy  these  ‘reading  
positions’  helps  to  determine  the  kind  of  ideological  effect  the  texts  will  have.    
 
While  the  kind  of  textual  analysis  illustrated  here  can  tell  us  something  about  the  
versions  of  reality  that  texts  construct  and  about  the  kinds  of  reading  positions  
they  make  available,  it  is  impossible  to  say  for  certain  just  by  analyzing  texts  
what  their  actual  effect  will  be  on  readers.  Some  pregnant  women,  for  example,  
might  respond  more  readily  to  the  plain  familiar  language  and  the  personal  
approach  in  example  1  above.  Others  might  be  more  persuaded  by  the  
authoritative  voice  of  example  2.    

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To  really  understand  how  people  actually  interpret  texts,  or,  for  that  matter,  how  
ideologies  end  up  finding  their  way  into  texts  in  the  first  place,  it  is  necessary  to  
go  beyond  texts  themselves  and  analyze  both  discourse  practices,  the  practices  
authors  engage  in  when  creating  texts  and  the  practices  readers  engage  in  when  
interpreting  them,  and  social  practices,  the  activities,  norms,  and  social  
relationships  that  make  up  readers’  social  worlds.    
 
The  more  we  know  about  the  negotiations  that  went  on  between  big  tobacco  
companies  and  politicians  in  the  United  States  in  the  late  1960’s,  for  example,  the  
better  we  can  understand  why  early  cigarette  warnings  were  worded  the  way  
they  were;  and  the  more  we  understand  readers’  experiences  of  and  knowledge  
about  smoking  and  the  status  of  smoking  in  their  circle  of  acquaintances,  the  
better  we  will  be  able  to  understand  the  effects  warnings  on  cigarette  packages  
might  have  had  on  their  behavior,  For  this  reason,  people  who  are  interested  in  
studying  ideology  in  discourse,  known  as  critical  discourse  analysts,    are  
increasingly  supplementing  textual  analysis  with  more  ethnographic  research  
techniques  like  interviews,  observations,  and  historical  research.  

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B5  THE  TEXTURE  OF  TALK  
 
In  our  analysis  of  how  people  make  sense  of  written  texts,  we  introduced  the  
concept  of  texture.  Texture,  we  said,  basically  comes  from  two  things:  the  ways  
different  parts  of  a  text  are  related  to  one  another,  and  the  various  expectations  
that  people  have  about  texts.  Making  sense  of  conversations  also  involves  these  
two  aspects  of  communication:  the  structure  and  patterning  of  the  
communication  and  the  broader  expectations  about  meaning  and  human  
behavior  that  participants  bring  to  it.  Generally  speaking,  conversation  analysis  
focuses  more  on  the  first  aspect,  and  pragmatics  focuses  more  on  the  second.    
The  basis  of  pragmatics  is  the  idea  that  people  enter  into  conversations  with  the  
assumption  that  the  people  they  are  conversing  with  will  behave  in  a  logical  way.  
The  philosopher  Herbert  Paul  Grice  called  this  assumption  the  cooperative  
principle.  When  people  engage  in  conversation,  he  said,  they  do  so  with  the  idea  
that  people  will:      
 
Make  (their)  conversational  contribution  such  as  is  required,  at  the  stage  at  
which  it  is  occurs,  by  the  accepted  purpose  or  direction  of  the  talk  exchange  
in  which  you  are  engaged.  (Grice  1975:  45)  
 
What  he  meant  by  this  was  that  when  people  talk  with  each  other  they  generally  
cooperate  in  making  their  utterances  understandable  by  conforming  to  what  
they  believe  to  be  the  other  person’s  expectations  about  how  people  usually  
behave  in  conversation.  Most  people,  he  said,  have  four  main  expectations  about  
conversational  behavior:    
 
1.  That  what  people  say  will  be  true  (the  maxim  of  quality)    
2.  That  what  people  say  will  be  relevant  to  the  topic  under  discussion  (the  
maxim  of  relevance)  
3.  That  people  will  try  to  make  what  they  mean  clear  and  unambiguous  
(the  maxim  of  manner)    
4.  That  people  will  say  as  much  as  they  need  to  say  to  express  their  
meaning  and  not  say  more  that  they  need  to  say  (the  maxim  of  quantity)    
 
Grice  called  these  four  expectations  maxims.  Maxims  are  not  rules  that  must  be  
followed;  rather,  they  are  general  statements  of  principle  about  how  things  
should  be  done.  In  actual  conversations,  however,  people  often  violate  or  ‘flout’  
these  maxims:  they  say  things  that  are  not  true;  they  make  seemingly  irrelevant  
statements;  they  are  not  always  clear  about  what  they  mean;  and  they  
sometimes  say  more  than  they  need  to  or  not  enough  to  fully  express  their  
meaning.  The  point  that  Grice  was  making  was  not  that  people  always  follow  or  
even  that  they  ‘should’  follow  these  maxims,  but  that  when  they  do  not  follow  
them,  they  usually  do  so  for  a  reason:  the  very  fact  that  they  have  flouted  a  
maxim  itself  creates  meaning,  a  special  type  of  meaning  known  as  implicature,  
which  involves  implying  or  suggesting  something  without  having  to  directly  
express  it.  When  people  try  to  make  sense  of  what  others  have  said,  they  do  so  
against  the  background  of  these  default  expectations.  When  speakers  do  not  

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behave  as  expected,  listeners  logically  conclude  that  they  are  trying  to  imply  
something  indirectly  and  try  to  work  out  what  it  is.    
 
If  your  friend  asks  you  if  you  think  her  new  boyfriend  is  good  looking,  but  you  do  
not  think  he  is,  you  might  say  something  like,  ‘He  has  a  lovely  personality,’  
violating  the  maxim  of  relevance  (her  question  was  about  his  appearance,  not  his  
personality),  or  you  might  say  something  rather  vague  which  communicates  that  
you  do  not  think  he  is  very  good  looking  but  which  avoids  saying  this  explicitly,  
violating  the  maxim  of  manner.  
 
The  obvious  question  is,  why  do  people  do  this?  Why  don’t  they  simply  
communicate  what  they  mean  directly?  One  reason  is  that  implicature  allows  us  
to  manage  the  interpersonal  aspect  of  communication.  We  might,  for  example,  
use  implicature  to  be  more  polite  or  avoid  hurting  someone’s  feelings.  We  might  
also  use  implicature  to  avoid  making  ourselves  too  accountable  for  what  we  have  
said  -­‐-­‐    in  other  words,  to  say  something  without  ‘really  saying’  it.      
 
Of  course,  the  fact  that  someone  says  something  that  is  not  true  or  is  not  entirely  
clear  does  not  necessarily  mean  they  are  creating  implicature.  Sometimes  people  
simply  lie.  You  might,  for  example,  tell  your  friend  that  you  think  her  boyfriend  is  
very  handsome.  In  this  case,  you  have  not  created  any  indirect  meaning.  Your  
meaning  is  very  direct.  It  is  just  not  true.  Another  example  can  be  seen  in  the  
often-­‐quoted  exchange  below:    
 
A      Does  your  dog  bite?  
B      No.  
A      [Bends  down  to  stroke  it  and  gets  bitten]  Ow!  You  said  your  dog    
doesn’t  bite.  
B      That  isn’t  my  dog.  
 
Here  A  has  violated  the  maxim  of  quantity  by  saying  too  little,  but,  in  doing  so,  he  
has  not  created  implicature.  He  has  simply  said  too  little.  And  so  for  the  flouting  
of  a  maxim  to  be  meaningful,  it  must  be  done  within  the  overall  framework  of  the  
cooperative  principle.  The  person  flouting  a  maxim  must  expect  that  the  other  
person  will  realize  that  they  are  flouting  the  maxim  and  that  the  meaning  created  
by  this  is  not  too  difficult  to  figure  out.    
 
 

How  we  do  things  with  words  

 
Another  important  aspect  of  pragmatics  concerns  how  people  accomplish  
various  social  actions  when  they  talk,  such  as  requesting,  promising  and  
threatening.  The  philosopher  John  Austin  pointed  out  that  certain  utterances,  
when  they  are  spoken,  have  the  effect  of  actually  performing  some  action  in  the  
physical  world.  When  the  officiant  at  a  wedding  ceremony,  for  example,  says,  ‘I  
now  pronounce  you  husband  and  wife,’  it  is  by  this  pronouncement  that  the  
couple  becomes  married,  or  when  a  judge  says,  ‘I  sentence  you  to  five  years  in  

  68  
prison,’  it  is  by  this  utterance  that  the  person  to  whom  this  is  uttered  is  
sentenced.  Austin  called  these  kinds  of  utterances  performatives.    
 
While  Austin’s  insight  might  seem  rather  obvious  now,  it  was  quite  revolutionary  
at  the  time  he  was  writing,  when  most  philosophers  of  language  were  mainly  
focused  on  analyzing  sentences  in  terms  of  whether  or  not  they  were  ‘true’.  
Austin  pointed  out  that,  for  many  utterances,  their  ‘truth  value’  is  not  as  
important  as  whether  or  not  they  are  able  to  perform  the  action  they  are  
intended  to  perform.    
 
The  more  Austin  thought  about  this  idea  of  performatives,  the  more  he  realized  
that  many  utterances  —  not  just  those  containing  phrases  like  ‘I  pronounce…’  
and  ‘I  declare…’  and  ‘I  command...’  —  have  a  performative  function.  If  somebody  
says  to  you,  ‘Cigarette  smoking  is  dangerous  to  your  health,’  for  example,  he  or  
she  is  usually  not  just  making  a  statement.  He  or  she  is  also  doing  something,  that  
is,  warning  you  not  to  smoke.    
 
Austin  called  these  utterances  that  perform  actions  speech  acts.  The  important  
thing  about  these  kinds  of  utterances,  he  said,  is  not  so  much  their  ‘meaning’  as  
their  ‘force’,  their  ability  to  perform  actions.  All  speech  acts  have  three  kinds  of  
force:  locutionary  force,  the  force  of  what  the  words  actually  mean,  illocutionary  
force,  the  force  of  the  action  the  words  are  intended  to  perform,  and  
perlocutionary  force,  the  force  of  the  actual  effect  of  the  words  on  listeners.    
 
One  of  the  problems  with  analyzing  speech  acts  is  that,  for  many  of  the  same  
reasons  speakers  express  meanings  indirectly  by  flouting  conversational  
maxims,  they  also  express  speech  acts  indirectly.  In  other  words,  the  locutionary  
force  of  their  speech  act  (the  meaning  of  the  words)  might  be  very  different  from  
the  illocutionary  force  (what  they  are  actually  doing  with  their  words).  We  have  
already  discussed  a  number  of  examples  of  this,  such  as  the  question  ‘Do  you  
have  a  pen?’  uttered  to  perform  the  act  of  requesting.    
 
And  so  the  problem  is,  how  do  we  figure  out  what  people  are  trying  to  do  with  
their  words?  For  Austin,  the  main  way  we  do  this  is  by  logically  analyzing  the  
conditions  under  which  a  particular  utterance  is  produced.  He  called  the  ability  
of  an  utterance  to  perform  a  particular  action  the  ‘felicity’  (or  ‘happiness’)  of  the  
utterance,  and  in  order  for  speech  acts  to  be  ‘happy’,  certain  kinds  of  conditions  
must  be  met,  which  Austin  called  felicity  conditions.    
 
Some  of  these  conditions  relate  to  what  is  said.  For  some  speech  acts  to  be  
felicitous,  for  example,  they  must  be  uttered  in  a  certain  conventional  way.  The  
officiant  at  a  wedding  must  say  something  very  close  to  ‘I  now  pronounce  you  
husband  and  wife’  in  order  for  this  to  be  a  pronouncement  of  marriage.  Some  of  
the  conditions  have  to  do  with  who  utters  the  speech  act  —  the  kind  of  authority  
or  identity  they  have.  Only  someone  specially  empowered  to  do  so,  for  instance,  
is  able  to  perform  marriages.  If  a  random  person  walked  up  to  you  and  your  
companion  on  the  street  and  said,  ‘I  now  pronounce  you  husband  and  wife,’  this  
would  not  be  considered  a  felicitous  pronouncement  of  marriage.  Some  of  these  
conditions  concern  the  person  or  people  to  whom  the  utterance  is  addressed.  

  69  
They  must  generally  be  able  to  decipher  the  speech  act  and  comply  with  it.  
People  under  a  certain  age,  for  example,  cannot  get  married,  and  so  the  
pronouncement  of  marriage  given  above  would  not  succeed  as  a  speech  act.    
Similarly,  if  the  two  people  to  whom  this  pronouncement  is  uttered  are  not  
willing  to  get  married,  the  pronouncement  would  also  lack  felicity.  Finally,  some  
of  these  conditions  may  have  to  do  with  the  time  or  place  the  utterance  is  issued.  
Captains  of  ships,  for  example,  are  only  empowered  to  make  pronouncements  of  
marriage  aboard  their  ships.    
 
And  so,  according  to  Austin  and  his  followers,  the  main  way  we  figure  out  what  
people  are  trying  to  do  when  they  speak  to  us  is  by  trying  to  match  the  
conditions  in  which  an  utterance  is  made  to  the  conditions  necessary  for  
particular  kinds  of  speech  acts.  So,  when  somebody  comes  up  to  me  in  a  bar  and  
says,  ‘Hey  mate,  I  suggest  you  leave  my  girlfriend  alone,’  I  use  my  logic  to  try  to  
figure  out  what  he  is  doing  and  what  he  is  trying  to  get  me  to  do.  At  first  I  might  
think  that  he  is  making  a  suggestion  to  me.  But,  when  I  consider  the  conditions  of  
the  situation,  I  realize  that  this  utterance  does  not  fulfill  the  necessary  conditions  
of  a  suggestion,  one  of  which  is  that  whether  or  not  I  follow  the  suggestion  is  
optional.  I  can  tell  quite  clearly  from  the  expression  on  this  fellow’s  face  that  
what  he  is  ‘suggesting’  is  not  optional.  I  also  realize  that  there  will  probably  be  
unpleasant  consequences  for  me  should  I  fail  to  comply.  Given  this  condition,  I  
can  only  conclude  that  what  he  is  doing  with  his  words  is  not  making  a  
suggestion  but  issuing  a  threat.  
 
The  important  thing  about  this  example  is  that  I  must  use  both  of  the  tools  
introduced  above.  I  must  make  use  of  the  cooperative  principle  to  realize  that  he  
is  flouting  the  maxim  of  quality  (he  is  not  making  a  suggestion)  and  that  there  
must  be  some  reason  for  this,  and  I  must  be  able  to  analyze  the  conditions  in  
which  this  utterance  is  made  to  figure  out  what  the  speaker  is  actually  trying  to  
do.        
 
 
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Sense  and  sequencing:  Conversation  analysis  

 
Whereas  pragmatics  begins  with  the  assumption  that  conversations  are  logical,  
conversation  analysis  begins  with  the  assumption  that  they  are  orderly.  What  
orderly  means  is  that  they  follow  a  certain  predictable  pattern,  with  some  kinds  
of  utterances  necessarily  coming  before  or  following  other  kinds  of  utterances.    
Conversation  analysts  also  see  utterances  as  actions.  Where  they  differ  is  in  their  
ideas  about  how  we  interpret  these  actions  —  what  gives  ‘force’  to  our  words.    
Whereas  followers  of  Austin  consider  the  speaker’s  intentions  and  the  conditions  
under  which  the  words  are  uttered  to  be  the  most  important  things,  
conversation  analysts  consider  the  utterance  that  occurred  prior  to  the  utterance  
in  question,  and  the  one  that  occurs  afterwards  to  be  more  important.  In  other  
words,  they  believe  we  interpret  utterances  chiefly  based  on  how  they  ‘fit’  
sequentially  with  other  utterances  in  a  conversation.    

  70  
  
The  core  of  conversation  analysis,  then,  is  the  exploration  of  the  sequential  
structure  of  conversation.  According  to  Schegloff    and  Sacks  (1973),  social  
interaction  is  often  arranged  in  pairs  of  utterances  —  what  one  person  says  
basically  determines  what  the  next  person  can  say.  They  call  these  sequences  of  
‘paired  actions’  adjacency  pairs.  Examples  of  common  adjacency  pairs  are  
'question/answer',  'invitation/acceptance’,  and  'greeting/greeting'.    
 
The  most  important  thing  about  the  two  utterances  that  make  up  an  adjacency  
pair  is  that  they  have  a  relationship  of  conditional  relevance.  In  other  words,  one  
utterance  is  dependent  on  (conditioned  by)  the  other  utterance.  The  first  
utterance  determines  what  the  second  utterance  can  be  (a  question,  for  example,  
should  be  followed  by  an  answer,  and  a  greeting  should  be  followed  by  a  
greeting).  In  the  same  way,  the  second  utterance  also  determines  what  the  first  
utterance  has  been  understood  to  be.  If  I  have  given  you  an  answer,  this  provides  
evidence  that  I  have  taken  your  preceding  utterance  to  be  a  question.  This  is  a  
very  big  difference  between  conversation  analysis  and  the  speech  act  theory  of  
Austin.  For  speech  act  theory,  the  conditions  for  whether  or  not  an  utterance  is  a  
particular  speech  act  include  things  like  the  intentions  and  identities  of  the  
speakers  and  the  context  of  the  situation.  For  conversation  analysts,  the  
conditions  that  determine  how  an  utterance  should  be  interpreted  must  exist  
within  the  conversation  itself.  
 
At  the  same  time,  conversation  analysis  also  focuses  on  how  speakers  make  use  
of  the  default  expectations  people  bring  to  conversations  in  order  to  make  
meaning.  The  main  difference  is  that  important  expectations  are  not  so  much  
about  the  content  of  utterances  (whether  or  not,  for  example,  they  are  ‘true’  or  
‘clear’),  but  rather  about  the  structure  of  conversation,  and  particularly  the  ways  
that  utterances  should  ‘fit’  with  previous  utterances.  The  idea  behind  adjacency  
pairs  is  that  when  one  person  says  something,  he  or  she  creates  a  'slot'  for  the  
next  person  to  ‘fill  in’  in  a  particular  way.  If  they  fill  it  in  in  the  expected  way,  this  
is  called  a  'preferred  response'.  If  they  do  not  fill  in  this  slot  in  the  expected  way,  
their  interlocutor  ‘hears’  the  preferred  response  as  being  ‘officially  absent’.  As  
Schegloff  (1968:  1083)  put  it:    
 
Given  the  first,  the  second  is  expectable.  Upon  its  occurrence,  it  can  be  
seen  to  be  the  second  item  to  the  first.  Upon  its  non-­‐occurrence,  it  can  be  
seen  to  be  officially  absent.    
 
Take  for  example  the  following  exchange  between  a  woman  and  her  boyfriend:  
   
  A:  I  love  you.    
  B:  Thank  you.    
 
The  reason  this  exchange  seems  odd  to  us,  and  undoubtedly  seems  odd  to  A,  is  
that  the  preferred  response  to  an  expression  of  love  is  a  reciprocal  expression  of  
love.  When  this  response  is  not  given,  it  creates  implicature.  Thus,  the  most  
important  thing  about  B’s  response  is  not  the  meaning  that  he  expresses  
(gratitude),  but  the  meaning  that  is  absent  from  the  utterance.    

  71  
  
All  first  utterances  in  adjacency  pairs  are  said  to  have  a  ‘preferred’  second  
utterance.  For  example,  the  preferred  response  to  an  invitation  is  an  acceptance.  
The  preferred  response  to  a  greeting  is  a  greeting.  What  makes  a  preferred  
response  preferred  is  not  that  the  person  who  offered  the  first  utterance  would  
‘prefer’  this  response  (the  preferred  response  for  an  accusation,  for  example,  is  a  
denial),  but  rather  that  this  is  the  response  which  usually  requires  the  least  
additional  conversational  work.  So  the  preferred  response  is  the  most  efficient  
response.  When  we  issue  dispreferred  responses,  we  often  have  to  add  
something  to  them  in  order  to  avoid  producing  unintended  implicature.    For  
example,  if  you  ask  me  to  come  to  your  party  and  I  accept  your  invitation,  all  I  
have  to  do  is  say  ‘Sure!’  But  if  I  want  to  refuse  the  invitation,  I  cannot  just  say  
‘No!’  If  I  do,  I  create  the  implicature  that  I  do  not  much  like  you  or  care  about  
your  feelings.  If  I  want  to  avoid  communicating  this,  I  have  to  supplement  it  with  
other  things  like  an  apology  (‘I’m  really  sorry…’)  and  an  excuse  or  account  of  why  
I  cannot  come  to  your  party  (‘I  have  to  do  my  discourse  analysis  homework’).  
 
You  can  divide  almost  any  conversation  into  a  series  of  adjacency  pairs.  
Sometimes,  though,  adjacency  pairs  can  be  quite  complicated,  with  pairs  of  
utterances  overlapping  or  being  embedded  in  other  pairs  of  utterances.  
Nevertheless,  for  conversation  analysts,  it  is  this  underlying  ‘pair  wise  
organization’  of  utterances  that  helps  us  to  make  sense  of  our  conversations  and  
use  them  to  accomplish  actions  in  an  orderly  way.    
 
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There  is,  of  course,  a  lot  more  to  both  pragmatics  and  conversation  analysis  than  
has  been  covered  in  this  brief  summary.  Pragmatics,  for  example,  has  much  more  
to  say  about  the  various  cognitive  models  that  people  bring  to  interaction,  and  
conversation  analysis  has  much  to  say  about  how  people  manage  things  like  
turn-­‐taking,  topic  negotiation,  openings  and  closings,  and  repair  in  
conversations.  What  we  have  focused  on  here  is  primarily  how  each  of  these  
approaches  addresses  the  problem  of  ambiguity  in  spoken  discourse  —  the  
problem  that  people  do  not  always  say  what  they  mean  or  mean  what  they  say.    

  72  
B6  NEGOTIATING  RELATIONSHIPS  AND  ACTIVITIES  
 

Power  and  politeness  

 
Whenever  we  interact  with  someone  we  always  communicate  something  about  
our  relationship  with  them.  We  do  this  by  using  various  discursive  strategies,  
which  we  have  divided  into  two  categories:  involvement  strategies  and  
independence  strategies.  Involvement  strategies  are  strategies  people  use  to  
communicate  friendliness  or  solidarity,  and  independence  strategies  are  
strategies  people  use  to  communicate  respect  or  deference.    
 
In  many  cases,  both  parties  in  an  interaction  share  a  fairly  clear  idea  about  how  
close  they  are  and  whether  one  has  more  power  than  the  other,  but  in  other  
cases,  participants  in  interaction  need  to  negotiate  their  relationship.  Such  
negotiations  are  common,  for  example,  as  people  move  from  more  distant  to  
closer  relationships,  or  when  one  person  wishes  to  challenge  another  person’s  
assertion  of  power  or  dominance.    
 
Regardless  of  whether  or  not  a  relationship  is  seen  as  ‘negotiable’,  we  always  
approach  interactions  with  certain  sets  of  expectations  about  how  independence  
and  involvement  strategies  will  be  used  to  communicate  information  about  
power  and  intimacy.  We  call  these  expectations  face  systems.  Although  
expectations  about  when  independence  and  involvement  strategies  are  
appropriate  and  what  they  mean  vary  across  cultures  and  groups,  most  people  
enter  interaction  with  three  basic  ideas:  1)  in  interactions  where  the  parties  are  
socially  distant  but  relatively  equal,  both  parties  are  likely  to  use  independence  
strategies  (deference  face  system);  2)  in  interactions  where  people  are  close  and  
relatively  equal,  they  are  likely  to  use  involvement  strategies  (solidarity  face  
system);  and  3)  in  interactions  in  which  one  person  has  more  power  than  the  
other  (regardless  of  their  social  distance)  the  more  powerful  one  is  more  likely  
to  use  involvement  strategies  and  the  less  powerful  one  is  more  likely  to  use  
independence  strategies.    
 
Like  the  conversational  maxims  we  discussed  in  the  last  section,  these  ‘systems’  
should  not  be  treated  as  ‘rules’,  but  rather  as  broad  sets  of  expectations  people  
draw  on  to  decide  how  to  act  towards  other  people  and  how  to  interpret  others’  
behavior  towards  them.  Since  power  and  distance  are  relative  rather  than  
absolute,  and  because  interaction  often  involves  the  negotiation  of  power  and  
distance,  people  usually  employ  both  independence  and  involvement  strategies,  
mixing  them  tactically  depending  on  the  situation  and  what  they  are  trying  to  
accomplish  in  the  interaction.    
 
An  example  of  the  way  participants  often  strategically  mix  independence  and  
involvement  strategies  can  be  seen  in  the  following  conversation  between  a  
senior  engineer  (Martin)  and  his  subordinate  (Ollie)  reported  in  Ladegaard  
(2011):    

  73  
  
 
Martin:  Happy  birthday  or  (0.2)  whatever  it  is  (laughing)  
Ollie:  thank  you  (0.2)  it’s  actually  a  while  ago  
Martin:  okay  eh:  Ollie//  
Ollie:  //there’s  Danish  pastry  over  there  if  you’re  interested  (0.2)  
Martin:  thanks  ah:  (0.6)  (talks  about  tape  recorder)  
Martin:  okay  well  to  cut  a  long  story  short  Sam  called  (0.2)  and  I’m  not  
sure  how  busy  you  are  or  what  you’re  doing  right  now  (0.4)  
Ollie:  ah:  we’re  just  about  to  launch  the  [name]  project  and  ah:  
Martin:  okay  
Ollie:  so  this  is  where  we  are  [xxx]  quite  busy  (0.5)  but  Sam  called  you  
said  
Martin:  yes  (0.2)  
Ollie:  and  he?  (0.3)  
Martin:  he  needs  some  help  here  and  now  (0.2)  he  needs  someone  to  
calculate  the  price  of  rubber  bands  (0.3)  for  the  [name]  project  in  India  
Ollie:  okay  
Martin:  they  expect  the  customer  to  sign  today  (1.3)  
Ollie:  okay        
(Ladegaard  2011:  14-­‐15)  
 
In  this  example,  Martin,  the  more  powerful  participant,  begins  using  involvement  
strategies,  wishing  Ollie  happy  birthday  (although  it  is  not  his  birthday)  and  
laughing.  Ollie,  on  the  other  hand,  though  friendly,  uses  more  independence  
strategies,  accepting  the  inappropriate,  birthday  wish  and  then  using  words  like  
‘actually’  and  ‘a  while’  to  soften  his  revelation  that  it  is  not  his  birthday,  and  then  
offering  Martin  some  pastry  in  a  way  which  is  designed  not  to  impose  on  him  
(‘…if  you’re  interested’).  Were  Martin  and  Ollie  equals  and  friends,  the  
inappropriate  birthday  wishes  might  have  been  answered  in  a  more  direct  way  
like,  ‘What  are  you  talking  about?  My  birthday  was  ages  ago!’,  and  the  offer  of  
pastry  might  have  been  more  insistent  (Have  some  Danish!).  In  other  words,  the  
mixture  of  involvement  and  independence  strategies  in  the  beginning  of  the  
conversation  are  what  one  might  expect  within  a  hierarchical  face  system.    
 
What  happens  next  in  the  conversation,  however,  is  rather  interesting.  Martin,  
the  more  powerful  person,  changes  to  independence  strategies,  asking  Ollie  how  
busy  he  is  and  making  it  clear  that  he  does  not  wish  to  impose  on  him.  In  fact,  he  
acts  so  reluctant  to  make  the  request  that  Ollie  practically  has  to  drag  it  out  of  
him  (‘but  Sam  called  you  said…  and  he?’).  This,  in  fact,  is  the  opposite  of  what  one  
might  expect  in  a  hierarchical  relationship.  Of  course,  this  shift  in  politeness  
strategies,  with  the  more  powerful  participant  using  independence  strategies  
and  the  less  powerful  one  showing  more  involvement  does  not  really  reflect  a  
shift  in  power.  Rather,  it  is  a  clever  strategy  Martin  has  used  to  make  it  more  
difficult  for  Ollie  to  refuse  the  request  by  putting  him  in  the  position  of  soliciting  
it.    
 

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The  point  of  this  analysis  is  that,  even  though  our  expectations  about  face  
systems  form  the  background  to  how  we  communicate  about  relationships,  
people  often  strategically  confound  these  expectations  to  their  own  advantage.    
 
One  further  factor,  that  determines  which  strategy  a  person  will  use  to  
communicate  his  or  her  relationship  with  another  person  is  the  topic  of  the  
conversation  he  or  she  is  engaged  in.  In  cases  in  which  the  topic  of  the  
conversation  is  serious  or  potentially  embarrassing  for  either  party,  or  in  which  
the  weight  of  imposition  is  seen  to  be  great,  independence  strategies  will  be  
more  common,  whereas  in  situations  where  the  topic  is  less  serious,  the  outcome  
more  predictable  and  the  weight  of  imposition  seen  to  be  relatively  small,  
involvement  strategies  are  more  common.    
 
As  can  be  seen  in  the  example  above,  rather  than  as  simple  reflections  of  a  priori  
relationships  of  power  and  distance  or  the  ‘weightiness’  of  a  particular  topic,  face  
strategies  can  be  regarded  as  resources  that  people  use  to  negotiate  social  
distance,  enact  power  relationships,  and  sometimes  manipulate  others  into  
doing  things  which  they  may  not  normally  be  inclined  to  do.  A  person  might  use  
involvement  strategies  with  another  not  because  they  are  close,  but  because  he  
or  she  wants  to  create  or  strengthen  the  impression  that  there  is  a  power  
difference.  Similarly,  a  person  might  use  independence  strategies  not  to  create  a  
sense  of  distance  from  the  person  they  are  interacting  with,  but  rather  to  endow  
the  topic  under  discussion  with  a  certain  ‘weightiness’.  In  other  words,  face  
strategies  are  not  just  reflections  of  the  expectations  about  relationships  that  
people  bring  to  interactions  but  resources  they  make  use  of  to  manage  and  
sometimes  change  those  relationships  on  a  moment-­‐by-­‐moment  basis.  
 
  Look  deeper  into  this  topic  online  
 
 

Framing  and  contextualization  cues  

 
As  we  have  seen  above,  conversational  strategies  like  involvement  and  
independence  are  not  just  ways  that  we  communicate  and  manage  our  
relationships  with  other  people,  but  also  ways  that  we  communicate  something  
about  what  we  are  doing  (the  degree,  for  example,  to  which  we  think  we  are  
imposing  on  other  people).  We  also  have  other  ways  of  signaling  to  people  what  
we  think  we  are  doing  in  an  interaction,  whether  we,  for  example,  are  arguing,  
joking,  commiserating  or  making  small  talk.  Whenever  we  speak,  in  fact,  we  
communicate  not  just  the  message  contained  in  (or  implied  by)  our  words,  but  
also  information  about  what  we  think  we  are  doing  and,  therefore,  how  our  
words  should  be  interpreted.  We  call  the  signals  we  use  to  communicate  this  
information  contextualization  cues.  
 
In  Section  A6  we  said  that  there  are  basically  two  kinds  of  frames:  broader  
primary  frameworks  which  consist  of  the  relatively  stable  sets  of  expectations  we  
bring  to  particular  situations  (like  lectures  or  medical  consultations),  and  
smaller,  more  dynamic  interactive  frames,  which  consist  of  our  negotiated  ideas  

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about  what  we  are  doing  moment  by  moment  in  a  conversation,  ideas  which  
often  change  rapidly  in  the  course  of  an  interaction.  Although  contextualization  
cues  are  often  important  in  signaling  primary  frameworks,  they  are  particularly  
important  in  the  role  they  play  in  helping  us  to  manage  and  negotiate  interactive  
frames.    
 
Sometimes  contextualization  cues  are  verbal,  that  is,  we  signal  what  we  are  
doing  through  our  choice  of  topic,  vocabulary,  grammar,  or  even  the  language  
that  we  use.  For  example,  in  her  analysis  of  the  talk  of  teachers  in  bilingual  
classrooms,  Angel  Lin  (1996),  has  pointed  out  that  when  English  teachers  in  
Hong  Kong  are  focusing  on  teaching,  they  tend  to  use  English,  but  when  they  are  
engaged  in  reprimanding  their  students,  they  tend  to  switch  to  Cantonese.  
Sometimes  these  verbal  cues  involve  adopting  a  particular  social  language  (see  
Sections  A4,  B4)  or  certain  genres  (see  Sections  A3,  B3)  associated  with  
particular  kinds  of  activities.  A  doctor,  for  example,  might  begin  a  consultation  
with  a  period  of  small  talk  in  which  the  language  might  be  extremely  informal  
and  the  topic  might  range  from  the  weather  to  a  local  sports  team  before  he  or  
she  ‘shifts  gears’  and  starts  ‘talking  like  a  doctor’.    
 
One  of  the  most  obvious  ways  we  signal  shifts  in  frames  verbally  is  through  what  
are  known  as  discourse  markers.  These  are  words  or  phrases  that  often  rather  
explicitly  mark  the  end  of  one  activity  and  the  beginning  of  another.  A  lecturer,  
for  example,  might  move  from  the  pre-­‐lecture  chatting  and  milling  around  frame  
to  the  formal  lecture  frame  with  words  like  ‘Okay,  let’s  get  started…’  Similarly,  
the  doctor  might  move  from  small  talk  to  the  more  formal  medical  examination  
by  saying  something  like  ‘So,  how  are  you  feeling?’  Discourse  markers  typically  
consist  of  words  like  okay,  so,  well,  and  anyway,  as  well  as  more  formal  
connectors  like  first,  next,  and  however.  It  is  important  to  remember  that  
discourse  markers  do  not  always  signal  a  shift  in  frame  –  sometimes  they  signal  
other  things  like  the  relationship  between  one  idea  and  another  (see  Section  B2).    
 
These  verbal  strategies  are  not  the  only  ways,  or  even  the  most  common  ways,  
people  signal  what  they  are  doing  when  they  talk.  Contextualization  cues  also  
include  non-­verbal  signals  delivered  through  things  like  gestures,  facial  
expressions,  gaze,  our  use  of  space,  and  paralinguistic  signals  delivered  through  
alterations  in  the  pitch,  speed,  rhythm  or  intonation  of  our  voices.  For  this  
reason,  people  who  study  frames  and  contextualization  cues  often  pay  a  lot  of  
attention  to  marking  things  like  stress,  intonation  and  pausing  and  even  facial  
expressions,  gestures  and  other  movements  when  they  produce  transcripts  of  
the  conversations  they  are  studying.    
 
These  non-­‐verbal  and  paralinguistic  contextualization  cues  are  sometimes  much  
more  subtle  than  verbal  strategies  and  so  more  easily  misunderstood.  The  way  
they  are  used  and  interpreted  might  also  vary  considerably  from  group  to  group  
or  even  person  to  person.  In  one  of  his  most  famous  studies,  Gumperz  (1982a:  
173-­‐174)  found  a  mismatch  between  the  ways  South  Asian  servers  in  a  staff  
canteen  in  a  British  airport  used  intonation  as  a  contextualization  cue  and  the  
ways  their  British  customers  interpreted  them.  The  South  Asian  servers,  for  
example,  used  falling  intonation  when  asking  customers  if  they  wanted  gravy  on  

  76  
their  meat  (consistent  with  the  conventions  of  their  variety  of  English),  but  the  
British  customers,  expecting  the  rising  intonation  they  associated  with  a  polite  
offer,  interpreted  the  servers’  behavior  as  rude.  What  this  example  tells  us  is  that  
contextualization  cues  do  not  in  themselves  contain  information  about  what  we  
think  we  are  doing  –  rather,  they  activate  culturally  conditioned  assumptions  
about  context,  interactional  goals  and  interpersonal  relationships  that  might  be  
different  for  different  people.    
 
As  we  said  above,  interactive  frames  are  not  static,  but  can  change  rapidly  in  the  
course  of  an  interaction.  They  are  also,  as  their  name  implies,  interactive  –  that  is,  
they  are  always  a  matter  of  negotiation  between  participants  in  the  conversation,  
and  the  way  they  are  used  and  interpreted  often  has  a  great  deal  to  do  with  
things  that  happened  previously  in  the  conversation  and  with  the  history  of  the  
relationship  between  those  involved.  In  other  words,  just  as  face  strategies  of  
involvement  and  independence,  while  primarily  providing  information  about  
relationships,  also  give  clues  as  to  what  we  think  we  are  doing  and  our  attitude  
towards  it,  framing  strategies,  while  primarily  signaling  what  we  think  we  are  
doing,  also  play  an  important  role  in  managing  relationships.    
 
In  an  article  called  ‘Talking  the  Dog’,  in  which  she  examines  how  people  use  pets  
to  frame  and  reframe  their  utterances  in  interaction,  Deborah  Tannen  (2004)  
gives  the  following  example  of  a  conversation  between  a  woman,  Clara,  and  her  
husband,  Neil,  in  the  presence  of  their  dog,  Rickie.    
 
Clara:  You  leave  the  door  open  for  any  reason?  
((short  pause,  sound  of  door  shutting))  
—>  <babytalk>  Rickie,  
—>  he’s  helpin  burglars  come  in,  
—>  and  you  have  to  defend  us  Rick.>      
Tannen  2004:413)  
 
In  this  example,  Clara  shifts  frames  from  talking  to  her  husband  to  talking  to  the  
dog  by  altering  her  voice  quality  (adopting  the  high  pitched  and  playful  tone  of  
‘baby  talk’).  In  a  sense,  though,  she  is  still  talking  to  her  husband,  communicating  
to  him  ‘through’  the  dog  the  potential  seriousness  of  leaving  the  door  open.  By  
addressing  her  remarks  to  the  dog,  however,  and  by  adopting  a  different  tone  of  
voice,  she  shifts  the  frame  from  scolding  to  playing,  allowing  her  to  get  the  
message  across  without  threatening  her  husband’s  face.    
 
Sometimes  participants  in  an  interaction  will  experience  disagreement  regarding  
‘what’s  going  on’.  The  way  one  person  frames  the  conversation,  for  example,  may  
be  at  odds  with  the  other  person’s  wishes,  expectations  or  interpretation  of  the  
situation.  In  some  cases,  they  may  simply  accept  the  framing  that  has  been  
imposed  by  the  other  person,  or  they  may  contest  or  resist  it  by  either  
attempting  to  reframe  the  conversation  using  their  own  contextualization  cues  
or  by  breaking  the  frame  altogether  and  engaging  in  a  ‘meta-­‐conversation’  about  
‘what’s  going  on’.  
 

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The  film  When  Harry  Met  Sally  (1988  Castle  Rock  Pictures)  contains  a  number  of  
good  examples  of  characters  competitively  negotiating  frames  in  interaction.  In  
the  following  example,  Harry,  who  is  going  out  with  Sally’s  best  friend,  tells  Sally  
that  he  thinks  she  is  attractive,  and  what  ensures  is  a  negotiation  about  what  
such  a  statement  means  based  on  what  he  was  ‘doing’  when  he  said  it.    
 
HARRY:  You’re  a  very  attractive  person.    
SALLY:  Oh,  thank  you.    
HARRY:  Amanda  never  said  you  were  so  attractive.    
SALLY:  Maybe  she  doesn’t  think  I’m  attractive.    
HARRY:  It’s  not  a  matter  of  opinion.  Empirically  you  are  attractive.    
SALLY:  Harry,  Amanda  is  my  friend.    
HARRY:  So?    
SALLY:  So  you’re  going  with  her.    
HARRY:  So?    
SALLY:  So  you’re  coming  on  to  me.    
HARRY:  No  I  wasn’t.    
HARRY  (continuing):  What?  Can’t  a  man  say  a  woman  is  attractive  
without  it  being  a  come-­‐on?    
HARRY  (continuing):  All  right.  Let’s  just  say  for  the  sake  of  argument  it  
was  a  come-­‐on.  Okay.  What  do  you  want  me  to  do?  I  take  it  back.  All  right,  
I  take  it  back.    
SALLY:  You  can’t  take  it  back.    
HARRY:  Why  not?    
SALLY:  It’s  already  out  there.    
An  awkward  pause  
HARRY:  Ohm  jeez.  What  are  we  supposed  to  do  now?  Call  the  cops?  It’s  
already  out  there.    
SALLY:  Just  let  it  lie,  okay?    
HARRY:  Right,  right.  Let  it  lie.  That’s  my  policy.  Let  it  lie…  So,  you  want  to  
spend  the  night  in  the  motel?    
HARRY  (continuing):  See  what  I  did?  I  didn’t  let  it  lie.    
SALLY:  Harry  –-­‐-­‐  
HARRY:  I  said  I  would  and  then  I  didn’t  -­‐-­‐  -­‐-­‐  
SALLY:  Harry  -­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐  
HARRY:  I  went  the  other  way  -­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐  
SALLY:  Harry  -­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐  
HARRY:  Yes?    
SALLY:  We  are  just  going  to  be  friends,  okay?    
HARRY:  Yeah.  Great.  Friends.  Best  thing.    
 
In  this  example,  Harry  tries  to  frame  his  initial  compliment  as  an  ‘objective  
observation’  using  formal  language  like  ‘empirically’.  Sally,  however,  labels  what  
he  is  doing  as  a  ‘come  on’,  a  label  which  he  first  resists  with  the  question,  ‘Can’t  a  
man  say  a  woman  is  attractive  without  it  being  a  come-­‐on?’,  framing  the  
accusation  as  unreasonable  and  possibly  sexist.  He  then  half  accepts  her  framing  
and  offers  to  ‘take  it  back’.  This  acceptance  is  only  partial  because  he  frames  it  as  
‘hypothetical’  (‘Let’s  just  say  for  the  sake  of  argument  it  was  a  come-­‐on…’).  Sally,  
however,  does  not  accept  his  retraction,  framing  a  ‘come  on’  as  an  irreparable  

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breech  in  decorum,  which  Harry  responds  to  by  again  shifting  frames  from  
conciliation  to  mocking  (‘What  are  we  supposed  to  do  now?  Call  the  cops?’).  
What  happens  after  this,  however,  is  particularity  interesting.  After  agreeing  to  
‘let  it  lie’,  that  is,  abandon  this  particular  negotiation  about  framing,  Harry  then  
issues  what  is  unambiguously  a  ‘come-­‐on’,  and  then  deflects  her  objections  by  
again  engaging  in  meta-­‐conversation  about  his  own  framing  (‘See  what  I  did?  I  
didn’t  let  it  lie…  I  said  I  would  and  then  I  didn’t…  I  went  the  other  way…’).    
 
Part  of  the  humor  in  this  scene  lies  in  the  fact  that  it  foregrounds  the  process  of  
framing  itself,  a  process  which  is  usually  left  tacit  in  conversations.  It  also  shows  
how  complex  and  contentious  negotiations  of  framing  can  be,  with  parties  not  
only  shifting  frames,  breaking  frames,  and  attempting  to  reframe  the  utterances  
of  themselves  and  others,  but  also  superimposing  frames  on  top  of  other  frames  
in  order  to  create  strategic  ambiguity  (as  when  Harry  imposes  a  ‘hypotheictal’  
frame  onto  his  admission  of  guilt).    

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B7  THE  SPEAKING  MODEL  
 

Speech  acts,  speech  events  and  speech  situations  

 
The  main  unit  of  analysis  for  the  ethnography  of  speaking  is  the  speech  event,  
which  can  be  defined  as  a  communicative  activity  that  has  a  clear  beginning  and  
a  clear  ending  and  in  which  people’s  shared  understandings  of  the  relevance  of  
various  contextual  features  remain  fairly  constant  throughout  the  event.  
Examples  of  speech  events  are  such  things  as  religious  ceremonies,  lessons,  
debates,  and  conversations.  Speech  events  occur  within  broader  speech  
situations,  and  are  made  up  of  smaller  speech  acts  of  the  type  we  have  already  
discussed  (including  such  things  as  greeting,  questioning,  promising  and  
insulting,  see  Section  B5).  For  example,  a  university  lecture  can  be  considered  a  
speech  event  which  occurs  within  the  speech  situation  of  a  school  day  and  is  made  
up  of  smaller  speech  acts  like  asking  and  answering  questions,  giving  
explanations  and  illustrations  of  certain  concepts,  and  even  joking  or  
threatening.  Similarly,  the  speech  event  of  a  conversation  may  occur  within  the  
larger  speech  situation  of  a  party  and  may  include  smaller  speech  acts  like  joking.  
Notice  that  the  same  speech  act,  joking  for  example,  can  take  place  in  many  
different  kinds  of  speech  events,  and  that  different  speech  events,  conversations  
for  example,  can  occur  in  many  different  kinds  of  speech  situations.    
 
What  distinguishes  a  speech  event  from  a  speech  situation  is  not  just  its  size  and  
the  fact  that  speech  events  tend  to  have  clearer  boundaries.  The  main  distinction  
is  coherence  (see  Section  B2):  participants  tend  to  approach  speech  events  with  
consistent  sets  of  expectations  that  remain  the  same  throughout  the  speech  
event,  whereas  participants’  expectations  about  the  relevant  features  of  context  
may  undergo  dramatic  changes  throughout  a  speech  situation:  students  eating  
lunch  at  the  university  canteen  during  a  school  day,  for  example,  are  likely  to  pay  
attention  to  different  sorts  of  things  than  they  do  in  a  lecture  during  the  same  
day.  The  way  to  distinguish  between  a  speech  situation  and  a  speech  event,  then,  
is  to  ask  if  the  same  rules  of  SPEAKING  apply  throughout  the  phenomenon.  If  so  
it  can  be  regarded  as  a  speech  event.    
 

SPEAKING  
 
One  potentially  confusing  aspect  of  the  ethnography  of  speaking  is  that  it  does  
not,  as  its  name  implies,  focus  so  much  on  rules  and  expectations  about  speaking  
so  much  as  rules  and  expectations  about  the  circumstances  in  which  certain  
kinds  of  speaking  takes  place  (or,  does  not  take  place).  In  fact,  one  of  the  most  
famous  studies  using  this  approach,  Keith  Basso’s  examination  of  silence  among  
the  Western  Apache  in  the  United  States,  explored  the  conditions  under  which,  
for  members  of  this  speech  community,  not  speaking  is  considered  the  most  
appropriate  behavior.    
 

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Ron  and  Suzanne  Scollon  have  used  the  term  ‘the  Grammar  of  Context’  to  refer  to  
a  model  very  much  like  Hymes’s  speaking  model  (Scollon,  Scollon  and  Jones  
2011).  Their  reasons  for  comparing  the  rules  and  expectations  associated  with  
context  to  the  kinds  of  rules  and  expectations  associated  with  the  grammar  of  a  
language  are  twofold:  first,  to  highlight  that  the  same  difference  between  
competence  and  performance  which  we  see  in  grammar  also  occurs  in  rules  and  
expectations  associated  with  context:  not  everyone  performs  in  particular  
speech  events  exactly  in  accordance  with  how  people  in  their  speech  community  
(including  themselves)  think  they  should;  and  second,  to  introduce  the  notion  of  
markedness  into  the  analysis  of  context.  
 
The  idea  of  'unmarked’  (the  usual  or  normal  way  of  saying  or  doing  something)  
vs.  'marked'  (an  unusual  or  deviant  way  of  saying  or  doing  something)  was  
introduced  into  structural  linguistics  by  the  Prague  School  of  linguists,  which  
included  such  figures  as  Roman  Jakobson  (see  Jakobson  1990:  134-­‐40).  Although  
the  concept  is  quite  complex,  the  general  idea  is  that  when  people  deviate  from  
the  default  or  expected  way  of  using  language,  the  result  is  often  the  expression  
of  some  special,  more  precise  or  additional  meaning.  This  is  an  idea  we  have  
already  encountered  in  our  discussion  of  pragmatics  and  the  cooperative  
principle.  When  it  is  applied  to  ‘context’,  it  reminds  us  that  communicative  
competence  does  not  refer  to  a  set  of  ‘rules’  that  must  be  followed,  but  rather  to  a  
set  of  expectations  that  experienced  speakers  can  sometimes  manipulate  in  
order  to  strategically  manage  the  meanings  of  speech  acts,  the  relationships  
among  participants,  or  the  outcomes  of  the  speech  event.    
 
The  components  of  the  SPEAKING  model  devised  by  Hymes,  therefore,  are  not  
meant  to  provide  an  objective  list  of  those  elements  of  context  which  need  to  be  
taken  into  account  by  the  analyst,  but  rather  a  set  of  guidelines  an  analyst  can  
use  in  attempting  to  find  out  what  aspects  of  context  are  important  and  relevant  
from  the  point  of  view  of  participants.  In  other  words,  in  any  given  speech  event,  
different  elements  will  be  afforded  different  weight  by  participants,  and  some  
might  be  regarded  as  totally  unimportant.    
 
The  first  component  in  the  model  is  setting,  which  refers  to  the  time  and  place  of  
the  speech  event  as  well  as  any  other  physical  circumstances.  Along  with  the  
physical  aspects  of  setting,  Hymes  included  what  he  called  the  ‘psychological  
setting’  or  the  ‘cultural  definition’  of  a  scene.  The  unmarked  setting  for  a  
particular  speech  event,  for  example,  might  be  in  a  church.  A  church  has  
particular  physical  characteristics,  but  it  is  also  likely  to  have  certain  associations  
for  people  in  a  particular  culture  so  that  when  they  enter  a  church  they  are  
predisposed  to  speak  or  behave  in  certain  ways.  Thus,  the  component  of  setting  
can  have  an  effect  on  other  components  like  key  and  instrumentalities  (see  
below).    
 
The  second  component  in  the  SPEAKING  model  is  participants.  Most  of  the  
approaches  to  spoken  discourse  we  have  looked  at  so  far,  including  conversation  
analysis  and  pragmatics,  begin  with  the  assumption  of  an  essentially  didactic  
model  of  communication  in  which  the  participants  are  the  speaker  and  the  
hearer.  Ethnographic  work,  however,  indicates  that  many  if  not  most  speech  

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events  involve  many  kinds  of  participants,  not  just  speakers  and  hearers,  but  also  
participants  like  audiences  and  bystanders.  Furthermore,  groups  differ  in  their  
ideas  of  which  participants  in  speech  events  are  considered  legitimate  or  
relevant  (for  example,  maids,  pets,  supernatural  beings).  Besides  identifying  the  
relevant  participants,  the  different  kinds  of  identities,  roles  and  rights  different  
participants  have  are  also  important.  These  aspects,  of  course,  will  depend  on  
things  like  the  genre  of  the  speech  event,  and  may  change  over  the  course  of  the  
speech  event  in  accordance  with  a  particular  act  sequence  (see  below).    
 
The  third  component  of  the  model  is  ends,  which  refers  to  the  purpose,  goals  and  
outcomes  of  the  event,  which,  of  course,  may  be  different  for  different  
participants  (the  goals  of  a  teacher,  for  example,  are  not  always  the  same  as  the  
goals  of  his  or  her  students),  and  the  fourth  component  is  act  sequence,  the  form  
the  event  takes  as  it  unfolds,  including  the  order  of  different  speech  acts  and  
other  behaviors.  Both  of  these  components  are  intimately  connected  not  just  
with  expectations  about  participant  roles,  but  also  with  the  genre  of  the  speech  
event.  
 
The  fifth  component  in  the  model  is  key,  by  which  is  meant  the  overall  ‘tone’  or  
mood  of  the  speech  event.  Key  is  important  because  it  provides  an  attitudinal  
context  for  speech  acts,  sometimes  dramatically  altering  their  meaning  (as  with  
sarcasm).  At  the  same  time,  key  is  often  signaled  in  very  subtle  ways  that  are  
sometimes  outside  the  purview  of  most  linguistic  analysis.  We  have  already  
explored  some  of  these  signals  in  our  discussion  of  contextualization  cues  in  
Section  B6.    
 
The  sixth  component  is  instrumentalities,  meaning  the  ‘message  form’  –  the  
means  or  media  through  which  meaning  is  made.  Speech,  for  example,  might  be  
spoken,  sung,  chanted  or  shouted,  and  it  may  be  amplified  through  microphones,  
broadcast  through  electronic  media,  or  written  down  and  somehow  passed  back  
and  forth  between  participants.  Typically,  speech  events  include  complex  
combinations  of  instrumentalities  that  interact  with  one  another  and  with  the  
other  components  in  the  model.  In  the  next  strand  on  mediated  discourse  
analysis  we  will  explore  in  more  detail  the  effect  different  instrumentalities  can  
have  on  speech  acts  and  speech  events.    
 
The  seventh  component  is  norms,  which  can  be  divided  into  norms  of  interaction  
and  norms  of  interpretation.  These  are  the  common  sets  of  understandings  that  
participants  bring  to  events  about  what  is  appropriate  behavior  and  how  
different  actions  and  utterances  ought  to  be  understood.  The  important  thing  
about  norms  is  that  they  may  be  different  for  different  participants  (a  waiter  vs.  
a  customer,  for  example)  and  that  the  ‘setting  of  norms’  is  often  a  matter  of  
power  and  ideology  (see  Section  A4).    
 
Finally,  the  eighth  component  is  genre,  or  the  ‘type’  of  speech  event.  We  have  
already  dealt  at  length  with  the  concept  of  genre  (see  Section  B3),  and,  although  
Hymes’s  understanding  of  genre  is  slightly  different  from  that  of  genre  analysts  
like  Swales  and  Bhatia,  much  of  what  was  said  before  about  community  
expectations,  form,  and  communicative  purpose  applies  here.  The  most  

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important  aspect  of  this  component  is  the  notion  that  certain  speech  events  are  
recognizable  by  members  of  a  speech  community  as  being  of  a  certain  type,  and  
as  soon  as  they  are  ‘labeled’  as  such,  many  of  the  other  components  of  the  model  
like  ends,  act  sequence,  participant  roles  and  key  are  taken  as  givens.    
 
It  should  be  clear  from  this  brief  rundown  of  the  components  of  the  SPEAKING  
model  that  none  of  them  can  really  be  considered  alone:  each  component  
interacts  with  other  components  in  multiple  ways.  The  most  important  job  of  an  
analyst  using  this  model,  then,  is  not  just  to  determine  the  kinds  of  knowledge  
about  the  different  components  members  of  speech  communities  need  to  
successfully  participate  in  a  given  speech  event,  but  also  to  determine  how  the  
different  components  are  linked  together  in  particular  ways  for  different  speech  
events.  For  it  is  in  these  linkages,  the  ways,  for  example,  different  kinds  of  
participants  are  associated  with  different  genres,  or  different  settings  are  seen  as  
suitable  for  different  purposes,  or  different  forms  of  discourse  or  media  are  
associated  with  different  keys,  that  the  analyst  can  begin  to  get  an  understanding  
of  deeper  cultural  assumptions  about  people,  places,  values,  power  and  
communication  itself  that  exist  in  a  particular  speech  community.    

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B8  MEDIATION  
 
Cultural  tools  
 
The  starting  point  for  mediated  discourse  analysis  is  the  concept  of  mediation.  
The  traditional  definition  of  mediation  is  the  passing  of  a  message  through  some  
medium,  which  is  placed,  between  two  or  more  people  who  are  communicating.  
When  we  think  of  media,  we  usually  think  of  things  like  newspapers,  television  
and  computers.  Lots  of  people  have  pointed  out  that  when  messages  pass  
through  media,  they  change  fundamentally.  Different  kinds  of  media  favor  
different  kinds  of  meanings.  The  kinds  of  meaning  people  can  make  in  a  
newspaper  article,  for  example,  are  different  from  those  they  can  make  in  a  
television  broadcast.  This  fact  led  the  media  scholar  Marshall  McLuhan  
(1964/2001)  to  make  the  famous  pronouncement:  ‘the  medium  is  the  message.’  
 
Mediated  discourse  analysis  is  also  interested  in  how  different  media  like  
televisions  and  computers  affect  the  way  people  use  discourse,  but  it  takes  a  
rather  broader  view  of  media  and  mediation.  This  view  comes  from  the  work  of  
the  Russian  psychologist  Lev  Vygotsky.  Vygotsky  (1981)  had  the  idea  that  all  
actions  that  people  take  in  the  world  are  somehow  mediated  through  what  he  
called  cultural  tools.  Cultural  tools  can  include  technological  tools  like  televisions,  
computers,  and  megaphones,  but  also  include  more  abstract  tools  like  languages,  
counting  systems,  diagrams  and  mental  schema.  Anything  an  individual  uses  to  
take  action  in  the  world  can  be  considered  a  cultural  tool.    
 
The  important  thing  about  cultural  tools  is  that  they  make  it  easier  to  perform  
some  kinds  of  actions  and  communicate  some  kinds  of  meanings,  and  more  
difficult  to  take  other  kinds  of  actions  and  communicate  others  kinds  of  
meanings.  In  other  words,  all  tools  come  with  certain  affordances  and  constraints.  
Writing  a  letter  or  an  email,  for  example,  allows  us  to  do  things  that  we  cannot  do  
when  we  are  producing  spoken  discourse  in  the  context  of  a  conversation,  things  
such  as  going  back  and  deleting  or  revising  things  we  have  written  before.  But  it  
is  more  difficult  to  do  other  things  like  gauge  the  reaction  of  other  people  to  what  
we  are  writing  as  we  are  writing  it  (as  we  can  do  with  spoken  language  in  face-­‐
to-­‐face  conversations).  A  microphone  makes  it  easier  to  talk  to  a  large  group  of  
people,  but  more  difficult  to  say  something  private  to  a  person  standing  next  to  
you  (as  some  politicians  have  rather  painfully  learned).  Most  instant  messaging  
programs  make  it  easy  to  have  a  real  time  conversation,  but  more  difficult  to  
interrupt  one’s  conversational  partner  in  the  middle  of  an  utterance  the  way  we  
can  do  in  face-­‐to-­‐face  conversations.    
 
What  this  idea  of  affordances  and  constraints  means  for  discourse  analysis  is  that  
the  kinds  of  discourse  and  other  tools  we  have  available  to  us  affect  the  kinds  of  
actions  that  we  can  take.  In  many  situations,  for  example,  such  as  ordering  lunch  
in  a  restaurant  in  a  remote  area  of  China,  access  to  the  ‘tool’  of  the  Chinese  
language  will  allow  us  to  do  different  things  than  we  couéld  do  with  the  tool  of  

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English.  Different  modes  and  media  also  allow  us  to  do  different  things:  we  can  
perform  different  actions  with  pictures  and  gestures  than  we  can  with  words  
(see  Section  A9),  and  we  can  do  different  things  with  mobile  telephones  than  we  
can  with  landlines.  Even  genres  and  social  languages  have  affordances  and  
constraints.  A  résumé,  for  example,  might  be  effective  for  getting  a  job,  but  less  
effective  for  getting  a  date  with  a  man  or  a  woman  whom  we  fancy.  Even  in  the  
context  of  getting  a  job,  the  genre  may  make  it  easy  to  communicate  things  about  
formal  education,  credentials  and  work  experience,  but  more  difficult  to  
communicate  things  about  more  informal  learning  and  non-­‐work  experience.    
 
And  so,  when  we  perform  mediated  discourse  analysis,  we  first  identify  the  
actions  that  are  important  to  a  particular  social  actor  in  a  particular  situation  and  
then  attempt  to  determine  how  the  cultural  tools  (such  as  languages  and  other  
modes,  media,  genres  and  social  languages)  contribute  to  making  these  actions  
possible  and  making  other  kinds  of  actions  impossible  or  more  difficult.  Of  
course,  we  also  have  to  recognize  that  many  of  the  cultural  tools  we  use  to  
perform  actions  are  not  discursive.  If  you  want  to  put  together  a  piece  of  
furniture  you  have  bought  at  IKEA,  while  some  discourse  such  as  the  instructions  
for  assembly  might  be  very  important,  if  you  lack  access  to  technological  tools  
like  a  hammer  and  a  screwdriver,  no  amount  of  discourse  can  make  it  possible  
for  you  to  perform  the  actions  you  need  to  perform.    
 
This  simple  idea  that  having  access  to  different  kinds  of  tools  makes  it  easier  or  
more  difficult  to  perform  social  actions  has  important  implications.  Earlier,  for  
example,  we  discussed  how  people  sometimes  try  to  use  discourse  to  advance  
certain  ideologies  or  versions  of  reality  in  order  to  try  to  affect  what  people  
think.  Mediated  discourse  analysis  highlights  the  fact  that  discourse  does  not  just  
have  a  role  in  affecting  what  we  think,  but  also,  in  a  very  practical  way,  in  
affecting  what  we  can  do.  If  we  do  not  have  the  proper  tools  available  to  us,  there  
are  certain  things  that  we  simply  cannot  do.  And  so  people  who  have  access  to  
particular  tools  (such  as  languages,  genres,  electronic  media)  can  often  exert  
certain  power  over  people  who  do  not  in  very  concrete  ways.  If  we  also  consider  
that  our  social  identities  are  created  through  the  actions  that  we  can  take,  we  
come  to  the  conclusion  that  the  tools  we  have  available  to  us  and  how  we  use  
them  help  to  determine  not  just  what  we  can  do,  but  who  we  can  be.    
 
At  the  same  time,  human  beings  are  extremely  creative  in  their  use  of  tools.  If  I  
do  not  have  a  screwdriver  to  put  together  my  IKEA  table,  I  might  try  using  a  
butter  knife.  If  the  genre  of  the  résumé  does  not  allow  me  to  showcase  my  
talents,  I  might  try  to  bend  that  genre  or  blend  it  with  another  genre.  In  fact,  one  
important  focus  of  mediated  discourse  analysis  is  in  exploring  the  tension  that  
exists  between  the  affordances  and  constraints  built  in  to  different  cultural  tools  
and  the  ways  people  creatively  appropriate  and  adapt  those  tools  into  different  
situations  to  achieve  different  goals.    
 
One  example  of  the  way  technological  tools  can  affect  the  kinds  of  things  we  can  
do  when  we  communicate,  and  the  creative  ways  people  adapt  to  these  
affordances  and  constraints,  can  be  seen  in  the  way  people  use  online  personal  
ads  and  dating  sites.  In  Section  B3  we  considered  print  based  personal  ads  as  a  

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kind  of  genre  and  discussed  how,  by  mastering  the  structure  of  the  genre,  people  
claim  membership  in  different  discourse  communities.  Nowadays,  however,  
most  people  rely  on  electronic  personal  ads  (or  ‘profiles’)  rather  than  print  based  
ones.  These  new  online  ‘profiles  introduce  a  new  set  of  affordances  and  
constraints  for  users.  In  older,  print-­‐based  ads,  for  example,  users  had  much  
more  control  over  self-­‐presentation,  which  was  performed  entirely  through  text.  
While  such  ads  often  invited  the  later  exchange  of  pictures,  users  had  a  way  of  
vetting  potential  prospects  before  sending  a  picture,  thereby  maintaining  some  
degree  of  privacy.  On  online  dating  sites,  where  the  inclusion  of  a  picture  is  
expected  up  front,  users  relinquish  their  control  over  physical  self-­‐description  
and  risk  disclosing  their  identities  to  unintended  parties  (such  as  employers,  co-­‐
workers,  or  family  members).  In  other  words,  the  inclusion  of  pictures  in  profiles  
introduces  both  affordances  (it  allows  for  a  fuller  an  more  accurate  presentation  
of  self)  and  constraints  (it  makes  it  more  difficult  for  the  owners  of  profiles  to  
control  information  about  themselves).  In  my  own  study  of  online  gay  dating  
sites  (Jones  2009),  I  discovered  how  users  creatively  deal  with  this  challenge  by  
posting  pictures  designed  to  strategically  obscure  their  identities  or  by  posting  
pictures  of  celebrities,  cartoon  characters  or  even  inanimate  objects  which  reveal  
something  about  their  personalities  or  interests  without  giving  away  their  
identities.  There  are  two  important  points  to  take  from  this  example.  The  first  is  
that  every  new  affordance  in  a  cultural  tool  also  brings  along  with  it  some  new  
constraint,  and  second,  experienced  users  of  tools,  like  experienced  users  of  
genres  (see  Section  B3),  often  find  ways  to  creatively  adapt  to  the  affordances  
and  constraints  of  the  tools  they  are  using.    
 

Context  revisited:  Sites  of  engagement  

 
Mediated  discourse  analysts  call  the  situations  into  which  tools  are  appropriated  
sites  of  engagement.  Sites  of  engagement  are  moments  when  different  kinds  of  
social  actors,  different  kinds  of  cultural  tools  and  different  kinds  of  social  
relationships  come  together  to  make  certain  actions  possible.    
 
In  the  previous  section  we  explored  the  importance  of  ‘context’  in  the  production  
of  meaning.  The  problem  with  the  idea  of  ‘context’  from  the  point  of  view  of  
mediated  discourse  analysis  is  that  it  takes  ‘texts’  as  its  reference  point.  The  idea  
of  sites  of  engagement  takes  social  actions  as  its  reference  point.  Instead  of  
making  an  artificial  distinction  between  discourse  and  everything  else,  it  
considers  all  cultural  tools  (texts,  furniture,  objects,  machines)  that  are  available  
to  social  actors  at  a  particular  time  in  a  particular  place  and  explores  how  they  
contribute  to  making  possible  certain  kinds  of  actions.    
 
Ron  and  Suzanne  Wong  Scollon  (2004)  say  that  all  social  actions  occur  at  the  
nexus  or  ‘coming  together’  of  three  crucial  elements:  1)  the  discursive  resources  
and  other  cultural  tools  that  people  have  available  for  action  (which  they  call  
‘discourses  in  place’),  2)  the  social  relationships  among  the  people  involved  
(which  they  call  the  ‘interaction  order’),  and  the  knowledge,  abilities  and  
experiences  of  the  individual  social  actor  (which  they  call  the  ‘historical  body’).    
 

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To  illustrate  how  these  three  elements  come  together  to  form  the  site  of  
engagement  of  a  social  action  we  can  take  the  example  of  crossing  a  busy  city  
street  (see  figure  B8.1).  There  is  normally  a  lot  of  discourse  available  to  people  in  
this  situation.  There  are  things  like  street  signs,  traffic  signals  and  zebra  stripes  
painted  on  the  pavement  to  assist  pedestrians  in  crossing  the  street;  there  is  also  
a  lot  of  discourse  such  as  shop  signs  and  advertisements  that  might  actually  
interfere  with  the  action  of  successfully  crossing  the  street.  And  so  one  of  the  
most  important  things  for  people  engaged  in  performing  this  action  is  
determining  which  discourse  to  attend  to  and  which  discourse  to  ignore.    
 
The  second  element  is  the  interaction  order,  the  relationships  people  have  with  
the  people  with  whom  they  are  crossing  the  street.  If  we  are  crossing  the  street  
alone,  for  example,  we  might  take  extra  care  in  checking  for  on-­‐coming  traffic,  
whereas  if  we  are  part  of  a  large  crowd  of  people,  we  might  pay  more  attention  
to  the  actions  of  other  pedestrians  to  decide  when  to  cross  simply  by  following  
them.  If  we  are  with  someone  else,  we  might  find  we  need  to  distribute  our  
attention  between  the  action  of  crossing  the  street  and  some  other  action  such  as  
carrying  on  a  conversation  or  making  sure  our  companion  (if  they  are,  for  
instance,  a  small  child)  gets  across  the  street  safely.  
 
Finally,  the  action  of  crossing  the  street  depends  on  people’s  knowledge  and  
experience  of  crossing  city  streets,  the  habits  and  mental  models  they  have  built  
up  around  this  social  practice,  which  the  Scollons  refer  to  as  the  ‘historical  body’.  
Most  of  the  time  we  do  things  like  crossing  the  street  in  a  rather  automatic  way.  
When  we  find  ourselves  in  unfamiliar  situations,  however,  our  habitual  ways  of  
doing  things  sometimes  do  not  work  so  well.  Most  of  us  have  found  ourselves  
having  some  difficulty  crossing  streets  in  cities  where  conventions  about  which  
discourses  in  place  pedestrians  ought  to  attend  to  or  what  kind  of  behavior  is  
expected  from  drivers  are  different  from  those  in  the  city  in  which  we  live.    

 
Figure  B8.1  Crossing  the  street    
 

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And  so  the  main  differences  between  the  ideas  of  ‘site  of  engagement’  and  
‘context’  are,  first,  that  while  ‘contexts’  take  ‘texts’  as  their  points  of  reference,  
sites  of  engagement  take  actions  as  their  points  of  reference,  and  second,  that  
while  contexts  are  usually  considered  to  be  external  to  the  social  actor,  sites  of  
engagement  are  a  matter  of  the  interaction  among  the  texts  and  other  cultural  
tools  available  in  a  social  situation,  the  people  that  are  present,  and  the  habits,  
expectations  and  goals  of  individuals.    
 
 
    Find  additional  examples  online  

  88  
  

B9  MODES,  MEANING  AND  ACTION  

 
Multimodal  discourse  analysis,  the  analysis  of  how  multiple  modes  of  
communication  interact  when  we  communicate,  tends  to  be  divided  into  two  
broad  approaches,  one  which  focuses  on  ‘texts’  (like  magazines  and  web  pages)  
and  the  other  which  focuses  on  ‘real  time’  interactions.  One  important  concept  
that  is  common  to  both  of  these  approaches  is  the  idea  that  different  modes  have  
different  affordances  and  constraints.  We  introduced  the  idea  of  affordances  and  
constraints  in  the  last  section  when  we  said  that  different  ‘cultural  tools’  make  
some  actions  easier  and  other  actions  more  difficult.    
 
When  we  say  that  different  modes  have  different  affordances  and  constraints,  we  
mean  both  that  they  have  different  sets  of  ‘meaning  potential’  and  that  they  allow  
us  to  take  different  kinds  of  actions.  For  example,  in  written  text  and  spoken  
language  we  must  present  information  in  a  sequential  way  governed  by  the  logic  
of  time.  Thus,  an  author  or  speaker  can  manipulate  the  order  and  speed  at  which  
information  is  given  out,  perhaps  withholding  certain  facts  until  later  in  the  text  
or  conversation  for  strategic  purposes.  Images,  on  the  other  hand,  are  governed  
by  the  logic  of  space.  The  producer  of  the  image  presents  all  of  the  elements  in  
the  image  all  at  once  and  has  limited  control  over  the  order  in  which  viewers  
look  at  those  elements.  Similarly,  images  allow  for  the  communication  of  very  
fine  gradations  of  meaning  when  it  comes  to  things  like  shape  and  color  –  the  
exact  shade  of  pink  in  someone’s  cheeks,  for  example  –  whereas  language  forces  
us  to  represent  things  in  terms  of  types  –  the  word  ‘pink’  for  example,  cannot  
represent  an  exact  color,  but  only  a  range  of  colors  within  a  particular  class.    
The  fact  that  different  modes  make  different  kinds  of  meanings  more  possible  
and  others  less  possible  is  one  of  the  reasons  why  people  strategically  mix  
different  modes  when  they  are  communicating,  so  that  the  constraints  of  one  
mode  are  balanced  out  by  the  affordances  of  others.  While  there  are  some  things  
that  ‘just  cannot  be  expressed  in  words,’  it  might  be  possible  to  express  them  
with  a  carefully  timed  facial  expression  or  a  carefully  placed  image.    
 

Communicative  functions  of  modes  

 
In  Section  A4  we  introduced  Halliday’s  idea  that  language  has  three  basic  
functions:  it  is  used  to  represent  our  experience  of  the  world;  it  is  used  to  
communicate  something  about  the  relationship  between  us  and  the  people  with  
whom  we  are  communicating;  and  it  is  used  to  organize  ideas,  representations  
and  other  kinds  of  information  in  ways  that  people  can  make  sense  of.    We  called  
these  three  functions  the  ideational  function,  the  interpersonal  function  and  the  
textual  function.  Although  these  three  functions  were  originally  conceived  of  as  a  
model  for  understanding  language,  Kress  and  van  Leeuwen  insist  that  they  
provide  a  useful  starting  point  for  studying  all  modes.  In  their  book  Reading  
images:  The  grammar  of  visual  design,  for  example,  they  explore  how  images  also  

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fulfill  these  three  functions,  but  do  so  in  a  rather  different  way  than  language  
(see  Section  D9).      
 
Ideational  function  
 
As  noted  in  Section  A4,  the  ideational  function  of  language  is  accomplished  
through  the  linking  together  of  participants  (typically  nouns)  with  processes  
(typically  verbs),  creating  what  Gee  (2011)  calls  ‘whos  doing  whats’.  In  images,  
on  the  other  hand,  participants  are  generally  portrayed  as  figures,  and  the  
processes  that  join  them  together  are  portrayed  visually.    
 
Images  can  be  narrative,  representing  figures  engaged  in  actions  or  events,  
classificatory,  representing  figures  in  ways  in  which  they  are  related  to  one  
another  in  terms  of  similarities  and  differences  or  as  representatives  of  ‘types’,  
or  analytical,  representing  figures  in  ways  in  which  parts  are  related  to  wholes.    
 
In  narrative  images,  action  processes  are  usually  represented  by  what  Kress  and  
van  Leeuwen  call  vectors,  compositional  elements  that  indicate  the  directionality  
of  an  action.  In  figure  B9.1,  for  example,  the  arm  of  the  boxer  on  the  left  
extending  rightward  towards  the  head  of  the  other  boxer  portrays  the  process  of  
‘hitting’.  There  are  also  other  processes  portrayed.  For  example,  the  upward  
gazes  of  the  figures  in  the  background  create  vectors  connecting  the  spectators  
with  the  fighters.    
 

 
Figure  B9.1  Warriors  (photo  credit  Claudio  Gennari)  
 

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Like  this  image,  many  images  actually  represent  multiple  processes  
simultaneously.  Figure  B9.2,  for  example,  also  involves  action  processes,  the  face  
on  the  left  (representing  a  library  user)  joined  to  the  different  kinds  of  resources  
he  or  she  ‘consumes,  uses,  evaluates,  creates,  combines,  and  shares’.  This  image,  
however,  is  more  abstract,  and  so  the  vectors  are  represented  as  labeled  arrows  
rather  than  visual  representations  of  these  actions.  At  the  same  time,  the  image  
also  contains  classificatory  relationships  –  the  objects  portrayed  under  the  
headings  ‘Information  Literacy’,  ‘Media  Literacy’  and  ‘Digital  Literacy’  
representing  distinct  classes  of  things  -­‐-­‐  and  analytical  relationships  -­‐-­‐  the  
smaller  faces  in  the  lower  right  corner,  for  example,  portrayed  as  parts  of  a  
larger  social  network.    
 

 
 
Figure  B9.2  Using  information,  media  and  digital  literacy  (credit  Karin  Dalziel)  
 
Interpersonal  function  
 
Another  important  function  of  any  mode  is  to  create  and  maintain  some  kind  of  
relationship  between  the  producer  of  the  message  and  its  recipient.  As  we  said  in  
Section  A4,  in  language  these  relationships  are  usually  created  through  the  
language’s  system  of  modality,  as  well  as  through  the  use  of  different  ‘social  
languages’  or  ‘registers’.    
 

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In  images,  viewers  are  placed  into  relationships  with  the  figures  in  the  image,  
and,  by  extension,  the  producers  of  the  image,  through  devices  like  perspective  
and  gaze.  The  image  of  the  child  in  figure  B9.3  illustrates  both  of  these  devices.  
The  camera  angle  positions  the  viewer  above  the  child  rather  than  on  the  same  
level,  creating  the  perspective  of  an  adult,  and  the  child’s  direct  gaze  into  the  
camera  creates  a  sense  of  intimacy  with  the  viewer,  though  the  expression  on  the  
child’s  face  does  denote  some  degree  of  uncertainty.  Another  important  device  
for  expressing  the  relationship  between  the  viewer  and  the  figures  in  an  image  is  
how  close  or  far  away  they  appear.  Long  shots  tend  to  create  a  more  impersonal  
relationship,  whereas  close-­‐ups  tend  to  create  a  feeling  of  psychological  
closeness  along  with  physical  closeness.    
 

 
 
Figure  B9.3  Child  (photo  credit  Denis  Mihailov)  
 
 ‘Modality’  in  images  is  partially  realized  by  how  ‘realistic’  the  image  seems  to  the  
viewer.  Photographs,  for  example,  generally  attest  more  strongly  to  the  ‘truth’  of  
a  representation  than  drawings  or  paintings.  However,  this  is  not  always  the  
case.  Scientific  diagrams  and  sketches,  for  example,  are  often  regarded  as  having  
even  more  ‘authority’  than  photographs,  and  black  and  white  images  like  those  
often  found  in  newspapers  are  often  regarded  as  more  ‘realistic’  than  highly  
saturated  color  images  in  magazine  advertisements.    
 
Textual  function  
 
As  we  said  above,  while  texts  are  organized  in  a  linear  fashion  based  on  
sequentiality,  images  are  organized  spatially.  Figures  in  an  image,  for  example,  
can  be  placed  in  the  center  or  periphery  of  the  image,  on  the  top  or  the  bottom,  
the  left  or  the  right,  and  in  the  foreground  or  in  the  background.  Although  

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producers  of  images  have  much  less  control  than  producers  of  written  texts  over  
how  viewers  ‘read’  the  image,  they  can  create  pathways  for  the  viewer’s  gaze  by,  
for  example,  placing  different  figures  in  different  places  within  the  frame  and  
making  some  more  prominent  and  others  less  prominent.    
 
One  obvious  way  to  do  this  is  by  creating  a  distinction  between  foreground  and  
background,  the  figures  which  seem  closer  to  the  viewer  generally  commanding  
more  prominence.  Another  way  is  to  place  one  or  more  figures  in  the  center  of  
the  image  and  others  on  the  margins.  Many  images  make  use  of  the  
center/margin  distinction  to  present  one  figure  or  piece  of  information  as  the  
center  or  ‘nucleus’  of  the  image  and  the  marginal  figures  as  somehow  dependent  
upon  or  subservient  to  the  central  figure  (Kress  and  van  Leeuwen,  2006).    
 
Two  other  important  distinctions  in  the  composition  of  images,  according  to  
Kress  and  van  Leeuwen  (2006)  are  the  distinction  between  the  left  side  and  the  
right  side  of  the  image,  and  the  distinction  between  the  upper  part  and  the  lower  
part.  Taking  as  their  starting  point,  Halliday’s  idea  that  in  language,  ‘given’  
information  (information  that  the  reader  or  hearer  is  already  familiar  with)  
tends  to  appear  at  the  beginning  of  clauses,  and  new  information  tends  to  appear  
closer  to  the  end  of  clauses,  they  posit  that,  similarly,  the  left  side  of  an  image  is  
more  likely  to  contain  ‘given’  information  and  the  right  side  to  contain  ‘new’  
information.  This  is  based  on  the  assumption  that  people  tend  to  ‘read’  images  in  
the  same  way  they  read  texts,  starting  at  the  left  and  moving  towards  the  right.  
This,  of  course,  may  be  different  for  people  from  speech  communities  that  are  
accustomed  to  reading  text  from  right  to  left  or  from  top  to  bottom.    
 
The  distinction  between  the  upper  part  of  an  image  and  the  lower  part  is  related  
to  the  strong  metaphorical  connotations  of  ‘up’  and  ‘down’  in  many  cultures  
(Lakoff  and  Johnson,  1980).  According  to  Kress  and  van  Leeuwen,  the  top  part  of  
the  image  is  often  used  for  more  ‘ideal’,  generalized  or  abstract  information,  and  
the  bottom  for  ‘real’,  specific  and  concrete  information.  They  give  as  an  example  
advertisements  in  which  the  upper  section  usually  shows  ‘the  “promise  of  the  
product”,  the  status  of  glamour  it  can  bestow  on  its  users’  and  the  lower  section  
tends  to  provide  factual  information  such  as  where  the  product  can  be  obtained  
(2006:  186).    
 
Both  of  these  principles  can  be  seen  in  figure  B9.4.  In  order  to  make  sense  of  the  
‘narrative’  of  HIV  transmission  that  the  text  tells,  one  must  begin  at  the  far  left  of  
the  advertisement  and  move  to  the  far  right.  The  figures  of  the  man  and  the  
woman  on  the  left  of  the  image  constitute  ‘given’  information,  while  the  virus  on  
the  right  of  the  image  constitutes  the  ‘new’  information.  There  is  also  a  clear  
demarcation  between  the  upper  half  of  the  text  and  the  lower  half.  While  the  
upper  half  does  not  portray  the  positive  ‘promise’  of  a  particular  product  as  
many  advertisements  do,  it  does  represent  a  kind  of  idealized  hypothetical  
situation  which  the  viewer  is  invited  to  imagine.  Rather  than  a  ‘promise’,  
however,  it  is  something  more  akin  to  a  ‘threat’.  And  the  lower  half  of  the  image,  
rather  than  giving  information  about  where  the  product  portrayed  in  the  upper  
half  can  be  obtained,  it  gives  information  on  how  this  hypothetical  situation  can  

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be  avoided,  along  with  specific  information  about  such  things  as  the  name  of  the  
organization  that  produced  the  ad  and  the  condom  company  that  sponsored  it.    
 

 
 
Figure  B9.  4  AIDS  prevention  advertisement  (Abrasco,  Brazil)    
 
This  text  also  illustrates  how  images  and  words  often  work  together.  The  words  
‘Joy  Stick’,  ‘Play  Station’  and  ‘Game  Over’  tell  the  viewer  how  the  images  are  to  be  
interpreted,  and  the  slogan  in  the  lower  half  of  the  text  (‘You  only  have  one  life:  
use  a  condom’),  explains  the  image  of  the  condom  above  it.  Finally,  this  text  
shows  how  multimodality  can  be  effective  in  getting  viewers  to  make  
connections  between  different  ‘Discourses’.  While  the  images  belong  to  the  
‘Discourse  of  biomedicine’,  the  words  invite  the  viewer  to  interpret  these  images  
within  the  framework  of  the  ‘Discourse  of  video  games’.  
 
    Find  additional  examples  online  
 

Multimodality  in  Interaction  

 
Modes  in  face-­‐to-­‐face  interaction  such  as  gaze  and  gesture  also  fulfill  these  three  
functions.  The  mode  of  gaze,  for  example,  has  an  obvious  interpersonal  function,  
creating  a  relationship  between  the  gazer  and  whomever  or  whatever  is  the  
object  of  the  gaze.  It  also  carries  ideational  meaning,  conveying  that  the  gazer  is  
looking  at,  watching  or  paying  attention  to  something.  Finally,  gaze  is  often  an  
important  textual  resource,  helping  people  to  manage  things  like  turn-­‐taking  in  
conversations.  
 
While  the  ‘inter-­‐modal’  relationships  (the  ways  multiple  modes  work  together)  
in  static  texts  like  the  advertisement  analyzed  above  can  be  complicated,  they  
can  be  even  more  complicated  in  dynamic  interactions.  One  of  the  problems  with  

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analyzing  real  time,  face-­‐to-­‐face  interactions  is  that  participants  have  so  many  
modes  available  to  them  to  make  meaning.  There  are  what  Norris  (2005)  calls  
‘embodied’  modes  such  as  gaze,  gesture,  posture,  head  movement,  proxemics  
(the  distance  one  maintains  from  his  or  her  interlocutor),  spoken  language,  and  
prosody  (features  of  stress  and  intonation  in  a  person’s  voice).  And  there  are  also  
‘disembodied’  modes  like  written  texts,  images,  signs,  clothing,  the  layout  of  
furniture  and  the  architectural  arrangement  of  rooms  and  other  spaces  in  which  
the  interaction  takes  place.  All  of  these  different  modes  organize  meaning  
differently.  Some,  like  spoken  language  and  gaze  tend  to  operate  sequentially,  
while  others  like  gesture  and  prosody  tend  to  operate  globally,  often  helping  to  
create  the  context  in  which  other  modes  like  spoken  language  are  to  be  
interpreted  (see  Section  B6).  Not  all  of  these  modes  are  of  equal  importance  to  
participants  at  any  given  moment  in  the  interaction.  In  fact,  different  modes  are  
likely  to  take  on  different  degrees  of  importance  at  different  times.  How  then  is  
the  analyst  to  determine  which  modes  to  focus  on  in  a  multimodal  analysis?  
 
Another  problem  with  analyzing  multimodality  in  face-­‐to-­‐face  interactions  is  
that  the  spatial  boundaries  of  interactions  are  not  always  as  clear  as  the  spatial  
boundaries  of  texts.  While  the  frame  of  an  image  clearly  marks  what  should  be  
considered  as  belonging  to  the  image  and  what  should  be  considered  external  to  
it,  a  conversation  in  a  coffee  shop  is  not  so  clearly  bounded.  In  analyzing  such  an  
interaction,  how  much  of  the  surrounding  modes  should  be  taken  into  account?  
Should  the  analyst  consider,  for  example,  the  signs  and  posters  on  the  walls,  the  
conversations  occurring  at  other  tables,  the  ambient  music  playing  over  the  p.a.  
system  and  the  sounds  of  milk  being  steamed?  What  about  the  smell  and  taste  of  
the  coffee?    
 
Norris  (2005)  solves  these  two  problems  by  adopting  the  practice  of  mediated  
discourse  analysis  (see  Sections  A8  and  B8)  and  taking  action  as  her  unit  of  
analysis.  Thus,  in  determining  which  modes  to  focus  on,  the  analyst  begins  by  
asking  what  actions  participants  are  engaged  in  and  then  attempts  to  determine  
which  modes  are  being  used  to  accomplish  these  actions.    
 
As  we  said  in  Section  A8,  actions  are  always  made  up  of  smaller  actions  and  
themselves  contribute  to  making  up  larger  actions.  Norris  divides  actions  into  
three  types:  lower-­level  actions,  the  smallest  pragmatic  meaning  units  of  
communicative  modes  (including  things  like  gestures,  postural  shifts,  gaze  shifts,  
and  tone  units),  higher-­level  actions  (such  as  ‘having  a  cup  of  coffee’),  and  frozen  
actions  (previously  performed  actions  that  are  instantiated  in  material  modes—a  
half  eaten  plate  of  food,  for  example,  or  an  unmade  bed).    
 
One  of  the  goals  of  multimodal  interaction  analysis,  then,  is  to  understand  how  
participants  in  interaction  work  cooperatively  to  weave  together  lower-­‐level  
actions  like  gestures,  glances,  and  head  and  body  movements  into  higher-­‐level  
actions,  and,  in  doing,  so  help  to  create  and  reinforce  social  practices,  social  
relationships  and  social  identities  (see  Section  C9).    
 
  Look  deeper  into  this  topic  online  

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B10  PROCEDURES  FOR  CORPUS-­‐ASSISTED  DISCOURSE  
ANALYSIS  
 
Conducting  a  corpus-­‐assisted  discourse  analysis  requires  a  number  of  steps,  
which  include  building  a  corpus,  cleaning  and  tagging  the  corpus,  analyzing  the  
corpus  with  computer  tools  using  a  number  of  procedures,  and,  finally,  
interpreting  the  data.  These  last  two  steps  tend  to  be  cyclical  and  recursive.  That  
is,  usually  the  results  of  several  procedures  need  to  be  combined  when  we  are  
interpreting  the  data,  and  often  our  interpretations  lead  us  to  re-­‐performing  
these  procedures  or  performing  other  procedures.    
 
The  first  step  in  building  a  corpus  is  deciding  what  kinds  of  texts  you  want  to  
include  in  it  and  making  sure  that  you  can  include  a  representative  sample  of  
those  kinds  of  texts.  For  very  specialized  corpora,  such  as  the  works  of  a  
particular  author,  this  is  easy  since  there  are  a  limited  number  of  texts  and  you  
can  simply  include  them  all.  This  is  more  difficult  the  less  specific  the  corpus  is.  
For  example,  if  you  want  to  build  a  corpus  of  business  letters,  you  need  to  decide  
what  kind  of  letters  (sales  letters,  complaint  letters,  etc.)  you  want  to  include,  
what  kinds  of  companies  these  letters  will  come  from,  and  what  countries  
and/or  ‘cultures’  will  be  included.  You  might  choose  texts  based  on  some  
predetermined  criteria  like  topic  or  the  inclusion  of  some  keyword.  Baker  and  
McEnery,  in  their  study  reprinted  in  Section  D10,  for  example,  chose  the  texts  for  
their  corpus  on  the  basis  of  whether  or  not  they  contained  the  words  refugee  or  
refugees  or  the  phrases  asylum  seeker  or  asylum  seekers.    
 
Another  important  decision  is  how  many  texts  you  are  going  to  include  in  your  
corpus.  Generally  with  corpus-­‐assisted  analysis,  the  bigger  the  corpus  the  easier  
it  will  be  for  you  to  make  generalizations  from  your  results.  However,  it  is  also  
possible  to  have  very  small  corpora.    
 
You  will  probably  also  need  a  reference  corpus.  A  reference  corpus  is  another  
corpus  that  you  will  compare  your  primary  corpus  with.  It  is  usually  made  up  of  
a  broader  spectrum  of  texts  or  conversations  than  the  corpus  you  are  analyzing.    
You  might,  for  example,  use  one  of  the  large  corpora  like  the  British  National  
Corpus,  or  you  might  choose  another  specialized  corpus  with  a  broader  sample  
of  texts.    
 
Nowadays  it  is  actually  quite  easy  to  build  a  corpus  since  so  many  texts  are  
already  in  electronic  format  on  the  Internet.  But  is  it  important  that  you  go  
though  these  texts  carefully  and  take  out  any  HTML  code  or  formatting  that  
might  have  been  attached  to  them,  which  might  interfere  with  your  analysis.  You  
also  might  want  to  attach  new  code  to  certain  parts  of  the  text  or  to  certain  
words  to  aid  your  analysis.  This  later  process  to  called  ‘tagging’.  Analysts,  for  
example,  sometimes  insert  code  to  indicate  different  parts  of  a  text  (like  
introduction,  body  and  conclusion),  and  others  tag  individual  words  based  on  
their  grammatical  function  so  they  can  detect  grammatical  patterns  in  their  

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analysis  along  with  lexical  patterns.  It  is  important  that  each  text  in  your  corpus  
is  saved  in  separate  text  file.    
 
The  analysis  of  the  corpus  is  carried  out  with  a  computer  program,  and  there  are  
a  number  of  such  programs  available  for  free  on  the  internet.  The  most  widely  
used  commercial  program  is  called  WordSmith  Tools  (http://www.lexically.net/  
wordsmith/index.html),  but  there  is  also  a  very  good  free  program  available  
called  AntConc,  developed  by  Laurence  Anthony,  which  works  on  both  Windows  
and  Macintosh  operating  systems  (http://www.antlab.sci.waseda.ac.jp/  
antconc_index.html).  In  the  explanations  and  examples  below  I  will  describe  how  
to  perform  the  relevant  procedures  using  AntConc.    
 
After  your  corpus  has  been  ‘cleaned’  and  ‘tagged’,  you  need  to  import  it  in  the  
form  of  text  files  into  your  analysis  program.  In  AntConc  this  is  done  by  using  the  
commands  File  >  Open  File(s)  (or  Cntrl  F).  You  may  choose  as  many  files  as  you  
wish.  If  you  would  like  to  open  a  directory  of  files,  choose  Open  Dir  (or  Cntrl  D).    
 
While  there  are  a  whole  host  of  different  operations  that  can  be  performed  on  
corpora  using  this  software,  the  six  most  basic  procedures  useful  for  the  
discourse  analyst  are  as  follows:    
 
1)  Generating  word  frequency  lists  
2)  Calculating  type  token  ratio  
3)  Analyzing  concordances  
4)  Analyzing  collocation  
5)  Analyzing  keywords  
6)  Creating  dispersion  plots  
 
Most  of  these  procedures  can  be  performed  on  their  own,  but  it  is  usually  a  good  
idea  to  perform  them  together  with  the  other  procedures  since  the  results  from  
one  procedure  can  often  inform  your  interpretation  of  the  results  from  the  
others.  
 
Word  frequency  and  type  token  ratio  
 
One  of  the  most  basic  pieces  of  information  you  can  get  about  your  corpus  from  a  
computer  aided  analysis  is  information  about  the  frequency  with  which  different  
words  occur.  In  AntConc  a  word  frequency  list  for  a  corpus  can  be  generated  by  
clicking  on  the  Word  List  tab  and  then  clicking  the  Start  button.  Unless  you  have  
a  good  reason  to  treat  words  in  different  cases  (e.g.  refugee  vs.  Refugee)  as  
separate  words,  it  is  a  good  idea  to  tick  ‘Treat  all  data  as  lower  case’  in  the  
Display  Options.  Words  in  frequency  lists  can  be  sorted  by  rank,  frequency  or  
word,  so  an  analyst  can  easily  determine  not  just  the  most  or  least  frequently  
occurring  words,  but  also  check  the  frequency  of  specific  words.    
 
After  a  word  list  is  generated,  the  information  necessary  to  calculate  type  token  
ratio  appears  at  the  top  of  the  AntConc  window.  Type  token  ratio  is  basically  a  
measure  of  how  many  different  kinds  of  words  occur  in  the  text  in  relation  to  the  
total  number  of  words,  and  so  can  give  some  indication  of  the  lexical  complexity  

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of  texts  in  a  corpus.  It  is  calculated  by  dividing  the  number  of  types  by  the  
number  of  tokens.  A  low  type  token  ration  generally  indicates  a  relatively  
narrow  range  of  subjects,  a  lack  of  lexical  variety  or  frequent  repetition.  A  high  
type  token  ratio  indicates  a  wider  range  of  subjects,  greater  lexical  variation,  
and/or  less  frequent  repetition.  In  the  British  National  Corpus,  the  type  token  
ratio  for  the  corpus  of  written  texts  is  45.53,  whereas  the  type  token  ratio  for  the  
corpus  of  spoken  texts  is  32.96.  This  confirms  a  number  of  things  we  already  
know  about  the  differences  between  speech  and  writing,  in  particular,  that  
writing  tends  to  involve  a  much  more  varied  and  complex  vocabulary,  and  that  
speech  tends  to  involve  frequent  repetition.    
 
Usually  the  most  frequent  words  in  any  text  are  function  words  (articles,  
prepositions,  pronouns  and  other  grammatical  words)  such  as  ‘the’  and  ‘a’.  While  
looking  at  function  words  can  be  useful  in  helping  you  to  understand  
grammatical  patterns,  style  and  register  in  the  corpus,  content  words  like  nouns,  
verbs  and  adjectives  are  usually  more  relevant  to  finding  evidence  of  
‘Discourses’.    
 
Concordances  
 
Concordances  show  words  in  the  context  of  the  sentences  or  utterances  in  which  
they  were  used.  Usually  we  use  frequency  lists  to  give  us  an  idea  of  what  some  of  
the  important  words  in  a  corpus  might  be,  and  then  we  do  a  concordance  of  
those  words  in  order  to  find  out  more  information  about  them.  Concordances  
can  be  sorted  alphabetically  based  on  the  words  either  to  the  right  or  left  of  the  
word  that  you  searched  for,  and  playing  around  with  this  sorting  system  is  often  
a  good  way  to  spot  patterns  in  word  usage.  For  example,  in  Baker  and  McEnery’s  
study  reprinted  in  Section  D10,  the  alphabetical  sorting  of  words  directly  to  the  
left  and  right  of  the  target  word  (refugee)  helped  reveal  that  refugees  were  
commonly  described  in  newspaper  articles  in  terms  of  quantification  (using  
numerals  or  terms  like  tens  of  thousands,  more  and  more).  
 
In  AntConc  concordances  are  created  by  typing  a  word  or  phrase  into  the  Search  
Term  box,  generating  a  list  of  instances  in  which  this  word  appears  in  the  corpus  
listed  in  their  immediate  contexts.  The  search  word  appears  in  the  concordance  
in  the  center  of  the  page  highlighted  in  blue,  with  what  occurs  before  and  after  
appearing  to  the  left  and  the  right  of  the  word.  The  Kwic  Sort  dialogue  can  be  
used  to  sort  the  concordance  alphabetically  based  on  the  word  one,  two,  three,  
etc.  places  to  the  left  or  the  right  of  the  search  term.    
 
Collocation  analysis  
 
Collocation  has  to  do  with  the  fact  that  certain  words  tend  to  appear  together.  
Often  words  take  on  a  negative  or  positive  meaning  based  on  the  kinds  of  words  
they  are  often  grouped  with.  As  Firth  (1957)  put  it,  ‘You  shall  know  a  lot  about  a  
word  from  the  company  it  keeps.’  For  example,  the  verb  ‘commit’  is  nearly  
always  associated  with  negative  words  like  ‘crime’.  We  don’t  ‘commit’  good  
deeds,  we  ‘perform’  them.  Thus  we  find  phrases  like  ‘commit  random  acts  of  
kindness’  humorous.    

  98  
  
Analyzing  the  kinds  of  words  that  appear  together  with  other  words  is  an  
especially  useful  way  to  understand  the  ‘Discourses’  that  are  expressed  in  a  
corpus  because  they  can  reveal  patterns  of  association  between  different  kinds  
of  words  or  concepts.  In  their  study  of  the  portrayal  of  refugees  in  the  British  
press,  for  example,  Baker  and  McEnery  note  not  just  that  the  word  stream  is  used  
frequently  in  their  corpus  to  describe  the  movement  of  refugees,  but  that  in  the  
British  National  Corpus  this  word  frequently  collocates  with  the  words  tears,  
blood,  sweat,  water  and  rain,  giving  it  a  generally  negative  connotation.  Baker  
(2006)  refers  to  the  situation  where  patterns  can  be  found  between  words  and  
various  sets  of  related  words  in  ways  that  suggest  a  ‘Discourse’  as  discourse  
prosody.  Others  (see  for  example  Sinclair  1991)  refer  to  this  as  semantic  prosody.    
 
In  order  to  perform  a  collocation  analysis  with  AntConc,  click  the  Collocate  tab  
and  enter  your  chosen  search  term.  You  will  also  need  to  determine  the  span  to  
the  left  or  right  of  the  search  term  within  which  you  want  to  check  for  collocates.  
This  can  be  set  from  any  number  of  words  to  the  left  of  the  search  term  to  any  
number  of  words  to  the  right  of  the  search  term  using  the  Window  Span  
dialogue.  The  result  will  be  a  list  of  collocates,  their  rank,  overall  frequency,  and  
the  frequency  with  which  they  occur  to  the  left  of  the  search  term  and  to  the  
right  of  the  search  term.    
 
Keyword  analysis  
 
Word  frequency  lists  can  only  tell  you  how  frequently  certain  words  occur  in  the  
corpus.  Some  words,  however,  like  articles,  occur  frequently  in  nearly  every  text  
or  conversation.  The  frequency  with  which  a  word  occurs  in  a  corpus  is  not  in  
itself  necessarily  meaningful.  What  is  more  important  is  whether  or  not  a  word  
occurs  more  or  less  frequently  than  ‘normal’.  This  is  what  keyword  analysis  is  
designed  to  determine.      
 
The  difference  between  keywords  and  frequent  words  is  that  keywords  are  
words  that  appear  with  a  greater  frequency  in  the  corpus  that  you  are  studying  
than  they  do  in  a  ‘reference  corpus’.  Reference  corpora  usually  consist  of  a  
broader  sampling  of  texts  or  conversations.  Many  people,  for  example,  use  large  
publically  available  corpora  like  the  British  National  Corpus.    
 
In  order  to  generate  a  list  of  keywords  for  your  corpus  with  AntConc,  it  is  first  
necessary  to  load  your  reference  corpus.  This  is  done  using  the  Keyword  List  
preferences  (Tool  Preferences  >  Keyword  List).  The  reference  corpus  can  be  
loaded  either  as  a  list  of  files  or  as  a  directory.  Once  it  is  loaded,  the  keyword  list  
is  generated  by  choosing  the  Keyword  List  tab  and  clicking  Start.  The  result  will  
be  a  list  of  keywords,  their  rank,  frequency  and  a  number  measuring  their  
keyness.  The  keyness  value  indicates  the  degree  to  which  the  word  occurs  more  
frequently  than  expected  in  your  primary  corpus  (taking  the  reference  corpus  as  
representing  a  ‘normal’  pattern  of  frequency).    Some  programs  also  allow  you  to  
calculate  negative  keyness,  that  is,  to  determine  which  words  occur  less  
frequently  than  expected.    
 

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Dispersion  Plots  
 
Dispersion  plots,  referred  to  in  AntConc  as  concordance  plots,  can  give  you  
information  about  where  words  occur  in  texts.  This  can  be  particularly  useful  if  
an  analyst  is  interested  in  the  structure  of  texts  or  conversations.  A  genre  
analyst,  for  example,  might  be  interested  in  the  kinds  of  words  or  phrases  that  
occur  in  a  section  of  a  text  associated  with  a  particular  move,  or  a  conversation  
analyst  might  want  to  explore  the  kinds  of  words  that  occur  in  different  parts  of  a  
conversation  such  as  the  opening  or  the  closing.    
 
In  AntConc,  concordance  plots  are  generated  by  clicking  the  Concordance  Plot  
tab,  typing  in  a  search  term  and  clicking  Start.  The  result  is  a  series  of  bars,  each  
representing  a  text  in  the  corpus  with  lines  representing  where  the  search  term  
has  appeared.  Figure  B10.1  shows  the  dispersion  plots  generated  by  searching  
for  the  word  ‘love’  in  a  corpus  of  Lady  Gaga  songs.    
 

 
 
Fig.  B10.1  Concordance  plots  for  Lady  Gaga  songs  
 
 
      Look  deeper  into  this  topic  online  

  100  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

SECTION  C  
 
EXPLORATION:  ANALYZING    
DISCOURSE    

  101  
C1  DOING  DISCOURSE  ANALYSIS:  FIRST  STEPS  
 
As  we  said  in  section  B1,  there  are  basically  three  different  ways  of  looking  at  
discourse:  discourse  as  language  beyond  the  clause;  discourse  as  language  in  
use;  and  discourse  as  social  practice.  Each  of  the  three  different  ways  of  looking  
at  discourse  can  lead  us  to  ask  different  kinds  of  questions  about  the  texts  and  
interactions  that  we  encounter  in  our  social  lives.  A  view  that  sees  discourse  as  
language  above  the  level  of  the  clause  or  the  sentences  leads  us  to  ask:  What  
makes  this  text  or  a  conversation  a  text  or  conversation  rather  than  just  a  random  
collection  of  sentences  or  utterances?  What  holds  it  together  so  that  people  can  
make  sense  of  it?  A  view  that  sees  discourse  as  language  in  use  leads  us  to  ask:  
What  are  people  trying  to  do  with  this  text  and  how  do  we  know?  Finally,  a  view  
that  sees  discourse  as  a  matter  of  social  practice  and  ideology  leads  us  to  ask:  
What  kinds  of  people  are  the  authors  of  this  text  or  the  participants  in  this  
conversation  trying  to  show  themselves  to  be,  and  what  kinds  of  beliefs  or  values  
are  they  promoting?    
 
Consider,  for  example,  the  text  that  is  printed  on  the  cardboard  sleeve  that  comes  
wrapped  around  a  cup  of  coffee  that  you  buy  at  Starbucks.    
 
 

Starbucks is committed to reducing our

Environmental impact through increased
use of post-consumer recycled materials.
Help us help the planet.
_____

First –ever 10% post-consumer fiber cup

60% post-consumer fiber sleeve
_____

Intended for single use only.

© 2005 Starbucks Coffee Company All rights reserved
US Patent no 5.205.47S and no. 6.863.644 and related
foreign patents pending

www.starbucks.com/wayiseeit

 
 
Although  this  text  seems  to  be  rather  straightforward  and  in  some  ways  trivial,  if  
we  apply  the  three  perspectives  on  discourse  that  we  discussed  in  Section  B1,  we  
can  start  to  see  how  complex  it  really  is,  and  how  it  relates  to  all  sorts  of  non-­‐
trivial  aspects  of  our  daily  lives.    
 
We  might  start  by  looking  at  how  this  text  is  put  together  in  a  formal  way.  First  of  
all,  we  would  notice  that  there  are  three  different  sections,  and  so  can  ask  
ourselves  how  we  interpret  these  three  sections  as  going  together,  and  how  we  

  102  
interpret  the  separate  sentences  in  each  section  as  relating  to  one  another.  
 
One  way  we  are  able  to  make  sense  of  this  text  is  because  of  certain  grammatical  
features  in  it.  For  example,  we  know  that  the  pronoun  ‘us’  in  the  second  sentence  
refers  to  the  name  Starbucks  in  the  first  sentence,  and  this  helps  us  to  link  these  
two  sentences  together.  Also,  the  sentence  in  the  second  section  (‘First-­‐ever  10%  
post-­‐consumer  fiber  cup  60%  post-­‐consumer  fiber  sleeve’  and  the  first  sentence  
in  the  third  section  (‘Intended  for  single  use  only’)  are  incomplete.  What  they  
really  mean  is  (‘This  cup  and  sleeve  are  the  first-­‐ever  10%  post-­‐consumer  fiber  
cup  and  60%  post-­‐consumer  fiber  sleeve’  and  ‘This  cup  and  sleeve  are  intended  
for  single  use  only.’  Since  the  same  bit  is  left  out  of  both  of  these  sentences,  this  
helps  us  to  relate  the  two  sentences  together.    
 
But  another  way  we  make  sense  of  this  text  comes  from  our  expectations  about  
how  texts  like  this  are  put  together.  We  have  seen  thousands  of  similar  kinds  of  
texts  (such  as  product  labels)  in  our  lives,  and  so  we  know  that  what  the  product  
manufacturers  are  trying  to  emphasize  is  usually  placed  in  a  more  prominent  
position  (like  the  top)  and  that  ‘legal’  or  ‘technical’  information  (e.g.  stuff  about  
patent,  copyright,  warnings,  etc.)  is  usually  put  at  the  bottom  in  smaller  lettering.  
This  makes  us  pay  less  attention  to  it,  although  sometimes  this  information  is  
really  the  most  important  information  in  the  text.    
 
After  considering  the  formal  features  of  the  text,  we  might  then  go  on  to  consider  
what  exactly  the  authors  of  this  text  are  trying  to  do.  We  would  see  that  they  are  
actually  trying  to  do  a  number  of  things.  For  example,  in  the  first  section,  there  
are  two  kinds  of  things  they  are  doing:  one  is  informing  us  (‘Starbucks  is  
committed  to  reducing  our  environmental  impact…’)  and  the  second  is  telling  us  
to  do  something  through  an  imperative  sentence  (‘Help  us  help  the  planet’).  Such  
actions  are  sometimes  not  altogether  straightforward.  For  example,  when  
Starbucks  asks  you  to  ‘help  them  help  the  planet’  what  they  are  also  doing  is  
asking  you  to  help  them  make  more  money  by  buying  more  coffee.    
 
The  third  section  of  the  text  also  contains  some  rather  ‘indirect’  actions.  By  
giving  the  patent  number  of  the  sleeve,  for  example,  Starbucks  is  not  just  
informing  us,  but  is  also  warning  us  that  the  design  for  this  sleeve  belongs  to  
them  and  we  cannot  use  it.  Finally,  by  giving  as  their  website  URL,  they  are  not  
just  informing  us,  but  also  inviting  us  to  visit  this  website.    
 
All  in  all,  what  the  company  is  doing  with  this  text  is  rather  complex  and  
sometimes  indirect.  They  are  not  just  trying  to  tell  us  about  this  sleeve  or  about  
their  company  policies;  they  are  also  trying  to  portray  themselves  as  a  ‘good  
company’  in  order  to  make  us  want  to  buy  more  coffee  from  them.    
 
If  we  then  consider  this  text  from  the  perspective  of  discourse  as  social  practice,  
we  might  notice  that  there  are  several  different  (‘capital  D’)  ‘Discourses’  mixed  
together.  There  is  the  ‘Discourse  of  Environmentalism’  in  the  first  section,  the  
‘Discourse  of  Science’  in  the  second  section  (signaled  by  numbers  like  10%  and  
60%  and  technical  terms  like  ‘post-­‐consumer  fiber’),  and  the  ‘Discourse  of  Law’  
in  the  last  section  (signaled  by  legal  terms  like  ‘All  rights  reserved’).  By  using  

  103  
these  three  Discourses,  the  company  is  trying  to  show  you  that  they  are  a  certain  
kind  of  company  with  certain  kinds  of  values  and  certain  kinds  of  power:  first,  
that  they  are  a  ‘green’  and  ‘socially  responsible’  company;  second,  that  they  are  a  
‘modern’  and  ‘scientific’  company  that  is  on  the  cutting  edge  of  innovation;  and  
third,  that  they  are  a  powerful  company  that  is  able  to  hire  lawyers  to  sue  you  if  
you  infringe  on  their  patent  or  copyright.    
 
This  way  of  looking  at  this  text  and  texts  like  it  can  be  useful  because  it  not  only  
helps  us  to  interpret  the  meanings  the  authors  are  trying  to  express  and  the  
actions  they  are  trying  to  perform  with  the  text,  but  also  how  the  authors  are  
trying  to  manipulate  us  into  thinking  or  feeling  certain  things  or  feeling  certain  
emotions  about  Starbucks  or  performing  certain  actions  ourselves  like  ordering  
a  second  cappuccino.    
 
And  so  one  ‘way  in’  to  discourse  analysis  is  to  consider  a  text  or  a  conversation  
from  the  three  perspectives  on  discourse  we  described  in  Section  B1.  In  the  
following  sections,  you  will  practice  applying  analytical  tools  and  methods  that  
grow  out  of  these  three  perspectives  on  discourse.    
 
    Find  additional  examples  online  
 

Activity  
 
Another  ‘way  in’  to  discourse  analysis  might  be  to  apply  the  four  principles  of  
discourse  discussed  in  Section  A1  to  a  particular  text  or  interaction.    
 
1)  The  ambiguity  of  language  
2)  Language  in  the  world  
3)  Language  and  social  identity  
4)  Language  and  other  modes    
 
These  principles  also  lead  us  to  ask  specific  kinds  of  questions  about  a  text  or  
interaction.    
 
Look,  for  example,  at  the  interaction  below  taken  from  my  Facebook  ‘News  Feed’  
(figure  C1.1).  The  first  thing  you  need  to  know,  if  you  do  not  know  this  already,  is  
that  people  who  use  Facebook  often  take  various  ‘quizzes’  or  surveys  which  
purport  to  tell  them  something  about  their  personalities  or  their  hidden  desires.  
Friends  sometimes  pass  these  surveys  around  among  themselves  as  a  way  to  
share  things  that  are  of  interest  to  them  and  build  a  feeling  of  closeness.    
 
The  second  thing  you  need  to  know  is  that  Emily  Jane  Wheeler  is  my  niece  and  
when  she  took  this  quiz  she  was  13  years  old.  Cheri  Jones  Wheeler  is  her  mother  
and  my  sister.    
 
 

  104  
  
 
Figure  C1.1  My  Facebook  News  Feed    
 
 
In  order  to  apply  the  principles  we  discussed  in  Section  A1  to  this  text,  we  might  
ask  the  following  four  sets  of  questions:    
 
1.  How  is  the  language  in  this  interaction  ambiguous?  What  do  the  people  need  
to  know  in  order  to  interpret  one  another’s  utterances  correctly?  Are  there  any  
hidden  or  ‘veiled’  meanings  expressed?    
 
2.  How  is  meaning  situated?  How  much  does  the  meaning  of  these  utterances  
depend  on  where  they  appear  and  who  says  them  and  what  they  are  trying  to  do  
with  these  utterances?    
 
3.  How  do  people  use  language  to  express  something  about  who  they  are  
(including  the  ‘kinds  of  people’  they  are  and  what  kinds  of  relationships  they  
have  with  the  other  people  in  the  interaction)?    
 
4.  How  are  other  modes  (pictures,  layout,  emoticons)  combined  with  language  to  
express  meaning?    
 
Discuss  how  posing  these  kinds  of  questions  can  help  you  to  better  understand  
this  interaction  and  then  use  the  two  methods  outlined  in  this  section  (applying  
the  ‘three  perspectives’  and  the  ‘four  principles’)  to  perform  a  preliminary  
analysis  on  a  piece  of  discourse  from  your  own  life.    
 
  Do  more  activities  online  

  105  
C2  ANALYZING  TEXTURE  
 
As  we  said  in  Section  B2,  not  only  is  texture  (cohesion  and  coherence)  necessary  
to  turn  a  collection  of  words  or  sentences  into  a  text,  but  different  kinds  of  texts  –  
like  shopping  lists,  newspaper  articles  and  ‘before  and  after  ads’  –  have  specific  
kinds  of  texture  associated  with  them.    
 
First,  different  kinds  of  texts  tend  to  use  different  kinds  of  cohesive  devices.    
Descriptive  texts  which  give  information  about  people  or  things  (scientific  
descriptions,  encyclopedia  entries)  often  make  heavy  use  of  pronoun  reference  
since  pronouns  allow  writers  to  refer  to  the  person  or  thing  being  talked  about  
without  repeating  his,  her  or  its  name.  Advertising  texts,  on  the  other  hand,  
which  describe  products,  are  more  likely  to  use  repetition,  since  there  are  
benefits  to  repeating  the  name  of  the  product  in  this  context.  Legal  texts  also  
prefer  repetition  to  reference  since  repeating  a  word  rather  than  referring  to  it  
with  a  pronoun  avoids  ambiguity.    
 
Analytical  and  argumentative  texts  often  make  heavy  use  of  conjunction,  since  
making  logical  connections  between  ideas  is  usually  central  to  the  process  of  
making  an  argument.  In  some  ways,  however,  such  devices  can  be  deceptive,  
used  to  give  a  text  the  appearance  of  logic  when  the  relationships  between  ideas  
are  not  actually  logical.  In  a  speech  given  shortly  after  Hong  Kong’s  return  to  
China  in  1997,  for  example,  a  university  president  in  the  territory  made  the  
following  statement:    
 
I  see  a  stable  society  because  the  future  prosperity  of  Hong  Kong  and  of  the  
region  demands  it.    
   
Although  the  use  of  the  word  because  casts  what  follows  it  as  a  reason  why  Hong  
Kong  will  remain  stable,  what  is  actually  given  is  a  consequence  of  stability  
(prosperity)  rather  than  a  reason  why  it  will  occur.  What  results  is  a  kind  of  
tautology  or  ‘circular  argument’.  
 
We  also  mentioned  above  that  different  kinds  of  texts  are  also  based  on  different  
kinds  of  generic  frameworks  –  they  present  information  or  actions  in  certain  
predictable  sequences  –  and  they  trigger  different  kinds  of  word  knowledge.  
Consider  the  following  newspaper  article.    
 
Lady  Gaga's  meat  dress  voted  most  iconic  outfit  
 
Pop  diva  Lady  Gaga's  meat  dress  which  raised  eyebrows  at  the  recent  
MTV  Video  Music  Awards  has  topped  the  list  of  the  most  iconic  outfits  of  
2010.  
The  eccentric  'Poker  Face'  hitmaker,  who  is  known  for  her  outrageous  
fashion  sense  created  ripples  with  her  meaty  outfit  which  has  sweeped  a  
poll  by  website  MyCelebrityFashion.com.  
"What's  everyone's  big  problem  with  my  meat  dress?  Haven't  they  seen  

  106  
 me  wear  leather?  Next  time,  I'll  wear  a  tofu  dress  and  the  soy  milk  police  
will  come  after  me,"  said  the  24-­‐year-­‐old  singer  who  lashed  at  her  critics  
for  the  controversy  created  by  her  meat  ensemble.  
http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/world/uk/Lady-­‐Gagas-­‐meat-­‐dress-­‐
voted-­‐most-­‐iconic-­‐outfit/articleshow/7127426.cms  
 
 
Perhaps  the  most  obvious  thing  that  makes  the  above  text  a  text  is  that  we  
immediately  recognize  it  as  a  certain  kind  of  text:  a  news  article.  This  generic  
framework  is  triggered  by  a  number  of  things.  First,  and  most  obvious  are  the  
circumstances  in  which  we  are  likely  to  encounter  the  text,  in  this  case  on  the  
website  of  The  Times  of  India.  There  are  other  features  of  the  text  as  well  that  
mark  it  as  a  newspaper  article  so  that,  even  when  it  is  transplanted  into  a  
different  context  (like  this  book),  we  still  recognize  it  as  a  news  article.  One  of  the  
most  salient  is  the  headline  –  a  kind  of  title  which  summarizes  the  main  idea  of  
the  text  in  a  kind  of  telegraphic  language  in  which  non-­‐essential  words  like  
articles  and  auxiliary  verbs  are  left  out.    
 
Once  the  generic  framework  of  a  newspaper  article  is  triggered,  we  expect  the  
information  in  the  text  to  be  presented  in  a  certain  way.  For  example,  we  expect  
the  first  paragraph  of  the  article  to  sum  up  the  main  points  in  the  article,  the  
second  paragraph  to  give  a  more  elaborated  account  of  these  main  points,  and  
subsequent  paragraphs  to  present  further  details  or  the  reactions  of  various  
people  to  the  news.  It  is  in  part  because  newspaper  articles  are  structured  in  this  
way  that  we  are  able  to  read  them  so  efficiently.    
 
Apart  from  its  overall  structure,  this  text  is  also  held  together  by  a  number  of  
cohesive  devices  that  are  also  characteristic  of  news  articles.  It  might  be  useful,  
however,  to  first  consider  the  kinds  of  devices  which  are  not  used.  There  are  no  
instances,  for  example,  of  conjunction.  This  is  not  unusual  since  news  articles  (as  
opposed  to  editorials  or  opinion  pieces)  are  meant  to  report  what  happened  
rather  than  to  offer  analysis  or  opinions.  When  news  articles  do  use  logical  
connectors,  they  are  usually  of  the  additive  or  sequential  type.    
 
There  is  also  relatively  little  use  of  reference  in  the  text.  Although  there  are  
instances  in  which  relative  pronouns  point  back  to  their  antecedents  (‘meat  
dress  which…’,  ‘hitmaker,  who  is  known…’),  and  also  places  where  possessive  
pronouns  are  used  (‘her  outrageous  fashion  sense’,  ‘her  meaty  outfit)  and  where  
the  definite  pronoun  is  used  to  refer  back  to  a  specific  thing  (‘The  eccentric  poker  
face  hitmaker’),  there  are  no  instances  in  which  Lady  Gaga  is  referred  to  as  ‘she’  
or  the  meat  dress  is  referred  to  as  ‘it’.  The  exception  to  this  relative  paucity  of  
pronouns  is  in  a  quote  from  Lady  Gaga  herself  in  the  third  paragraph  in  which  
she  refers  to  herself  using  the  pronouns  ‘I’  and  ‘me’  and  her  critics  using  the  
pronoun  ‘they’).    
 
Rather  than  using  pronouns,  the  author  of  this  article  chooses  to  refer  back  to  
previously  mentioned  people  and  objects  by  calling  them  different  names.  Lady  
Gaga,  for  example,  becomes  ‘The  eccentric  “Poker  Face“  hitmaker’,  and  ‘meat  
dress’  becomes  ‘meaty  outfit’  and  ‘meat  ensemble’.  Such  rephrasing  is  not  limited  

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to  people  and  objects,  but  is  also  used  for  actions,  for  example,  ‘raised  eyebrows’  
becoming  ‘created  ripples’.      
 
There  are  many  possible  reasons  for  this,  not  least  of  which  is  the  fact  that  
phrases  like  ’eccentric  ”Poker  Face”  hitmaker’  are  much  more  interesting  than  
mere  pronouns  and  so  increase  the  entertainment  value  of  the  piece.  A  more  
important  reason,  however,  given  the  purpose  of  a  news  article  to  convey  
information,  is  that  such  rephrasing  allows  the  author  not  just  to  achieve  
cohesion  but  also  to  efficiently  deliver  to  the  reader  additional  information  about  
the  people  and  things  under  discussion.  By  calling  Lady  Gaga  ‘The  eccentric  
”Poker  Face“  hitmaker’,  the  author  is  able  not  just  to  refer  back  to  Lady  Gaga,  but  
also  to  deliver  additional  information  about  her:  that  she  is  ‘eccentric’,  that  she  
has  a  number  of  hit  songs,  and  that  the  title  of  one  of  those  songs  is  ‘Poker  Face’.    
 
The  reiteration  of  key  people,  objects  and  concepts  in  articles  like  this  using  
alternate  words  and  phrases  creates  lexical  chains,  which  not  only  serve  to  bind  
the  sentences  and  paragraphs  together  but  also  reinforce  the  main  messages  of  
such  articles.  In  the  article  above,  there  are  four  such  chains:  First  is  the  one  
formed  by  words  related  to  Lady  Gaga  (‘Pop  diva’,  ‘hitmaker’,  ‘singer’),  second,  
the  one  formed  by  words  related  to  the  ‘meat  dress’  (‘outfit’,  ‘fashion’,  ‘wear’,  
‘dress’,  ‘ensemble’),  third,  the  one  formed  by  words  related  to  the  winning  of  
awards  or  ‘elections’  (‘voted’,  ‘iconic’,  ‘Awards’,  ‘sweeped  (sic)’,  ‘poll’),  and,  
finally,  the  one  formed  by  words  having  to  do  with  shock  or  controversy  (‘raised  
eyebrows’,  ‘eccentric’,  ‘outrageous’,  ‘created  ripples’,  ‘problem’,  ‘come  after’,  
‘lashed’,  ‘critics’,  and  ‘controversy’).  These  four  lexical  chains  taken  together  
serve  to  highlight  the  four  main  elements  of  the  story:  Lady  Gaga’s  meat  dress,  
which  caused  a  controversy  when  she  wore  it,  has  been  voted  as  most  iconic  
fashion  item  by  fans.    
 
 
    Find  additional  examples  online  
 

Activity  
 
Now  have  a  look  at  a  text  about  the  same  topic  which  has  a  rather  different  
purpose  and,  consequently,  a  rather  different  texture.  The  text  below  is  from  a  
blog  by  the  animal  rights  group  PETA.  Its  purpose  is  not  so  much  to  give  
information  about  what  Lady  Gaga  wore  as  it  is  to  make  an  argument  that  her  
choice  of  dress  was  unethical.    
 
 
Last  night,  Lady  Gaga  tried  once  again  to  shock  the  world,  this  time  by  
wearing  a  "meat  dress"  during  her  acceptance  of  the  Video  of  the  Year  
award  at  MTV's  Video  Music  Awards.  Lately,  Lady  Gaga  has  been  having  a  
hard  time  keeping  her  act  "over  the  top."  Wearing  a  dress  made  out  of  
cuts  of  dead  cows  is  offensive  enough  to  bring  comment,  but  someone  
should  whisper  in  her  ear  that  there  are  more  people  who  are  upset  by  
butchery  than  who  are  impressed  by  it—and  that  means  a  lot  of  young  

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 people  will  not  be  buying  her  records  if  she  keeps  this  stuff  up.  On  the  
other  hand,  maybe  it  was  fake  and  she'll  talk  about  that  later.  If  not,  
what's  next:  the  family  cat  made  into  a  hat?  Meat  is  the  decomposing  flesh  
of  a  tormented  animal  who  didn't  want  to  die,  and  after  a  few  hours  under  
the  TV  lights,  it  would  smell  like  the  rotting  flesh  it  is  and  likely  be  
crawling  in  maggots—not  too  attractive,  really.  The  stunt  is  bringing  lots  
of  people  to  PETA.org  to  download  a  copy  of  our  vegetarian/vegan  starter  
kit,  so  I  guess  we  should  be  glad.  
 
http://www.peta.org/b/thepetafiles/archive/2010/09/13/Lady-­‐Gagas-­‐
Meat-­‐Dress.aspx  
 
 
Analyze  the  texture  of  the  above  text,  noting  how  the  strategies  used  to  achieve  
cohesion  and  coherence  are  different  from  those  used  in  the  news  article  and  
discuss  why  you  think  these  differences  exist.  You  can  use  the  following  
questions  to  guide  your  analysis:    
 
• What  are  the  most  common  cohesive  devices  used  in  the  text?  What  
kinds  of  relationships  do  these  devices  create  among  different  parts  of  
the  text?  Are  these  relationships  clear  and  logical?    

• What  kind  of  overall  structure  does  the  text  have?  Is  the  order  in  
which  information  is  given  in  the  text  important?  Do  you  have  to  use  
any  previous  knowledge  about  this  kind  of  text  or  about  the  topic  of  
the  text  to  understand  it?    

  Do  more  activities  online  

  109  
C3  ANALYZING  GENRES  
 
Analyzing  genres  involves  more  than  just  analyzing  the  structure  of  particular  
types  of  texts.  It  involves  understanding  how  these  text  types  function  in  social  
groups,  how  they  reinforce  and  reflect  the  concerns  of  and  social  relationships  in  
these  groups,  and  how  they  change  over  time  as  societies  and  the  groups  within  
them  change.  Therefore,  analyzing  genres  requires  as  much  attention  to  social  
context  as  it  does  to  texts.    
 
Part  of  this  context  includes  other  genres  that  the  genre  under  consideration  is  
related  to.  Genres  are  related  to  other  genres  in  a  number  of  different  ways.  First,  
actions  or  ‘communicative  events’  associated  with  genres  are  usually  part  of  
larger  chains  of  events  that  involve  different  genres.  The  personal  ads  we  looked  
at  in  the  Section  B3,  for  example,  might  be  followed  by  letters  or  emails,  phone  
calls  and  dinner  dates.  And  so,  just  as  moves  in  a  genre  are  often  arranged  in  a  
kind  of  sequential  structure,  genres  themselves  are  also  often  related  to  one  
another  in  sequential  chains  based  on  the  ways  they  are  employed  by  people  as  
they  work  to  achieve  larger  communicative  purposes.    
 
Genres  are  also  related  to  other  genres  in  non-­‐sequential  relationships  that  are  
called  networks.  A  job  application  letter,  for  example  is  related  to  the  job  ad  that  
prompted  it,  the  applicant’s  résumé  which  might  accompany  the  letter,  and  any  
letters  of  reference  former  employers  or  teachers  of  the  applicant  might  have  
written  in  support  of  the  application.  The  letter  is  also  related  to  the  letters  of  all  
of  the  other  applicants  who  are  applying  for  the  same  job.  Genres  are  said  to  be  
linked  together  in  networks  when  they  have  some  sort  of  intertextual  
relationship  with  one  another,  that  is,  when  one  genre  makes  reference  to  
another  genre  or  when  the  users  of  a  genre  need  to  make  reference  to  another  
genre  in  order  to  realize  the  communicative  purpose  for  which  the  genre  is  
intended.    
 
Genres  can  also  be  seen  as  existing  in  larger  genre  ecologies  in  which  texts  that  
are  not  directly  related  to  one  another  in  chains  or  networks  can  nevertheless  
affect  one  another  in  sometimes  subtle  and  sometimes  dramatic  ways.  Like  
natural  ecologies,  genre  ecologies  are  not  static:  conditions  change;  old  discourse  
communities  dissolve  and  new  ones  form;  and  genres  change  and  evolve  as  users  
creatively  bend  or  blend  them,  or  else  become  extinct  if  they  can  no  longer  fulfill  
the  communicative  goals  of  their  users.  Online  personal  ads,  for  example,  are  fast  
replacing  print-­‐based  personal  ads  because  they  offer  users  more  efficient  ways  
to  fulfill  their  communicative  goals.  Similarly,  online  news  sources  are  giving  rise  
to  changes  in  print-­‐based  news  magazines,  many  of  which  now  contain  shorter  
articles  and  more  pictures  in  imitation  of  their  online  counterparts.    
 
Genre  analysis,  therefore,  must  account  not  just  for  the  way  a  particular  genre  is  
structured  and  its  function  in  a  particular  discourse  community,  but  also  the  
dynamic  nature  of  the  genre,  how  it  has  and  continues  to  evolve  in  response  to  
changing  social  conditions,  the  relationships  it  has  to  other  genres  past  and  

  110  
present,  and  the  multiple  functions  it  might  serve  in  multiple  discourse  
communities.    
 
One  particularly  good  example  of  the  dynamic  nature  of  genres  and  their  
adaptability  to  different  discourse  communities  and  different  communicative  
purposes  is  the  genre  of  the  weblog  or  blog.  Technically  a  blog  is  simply  a  
dynamic  web  page  that  is  frequently  updated  with  entries  appearing  in  reverse  
chronological  order.  Since  the  introduction  of  blogs  in  the  mid  1990s,  however,  
they  have  developed  certain  conventionalized  features:  blog  entries,  for  example,  
are  typically  short,  written  in  an  informal  style,  and  often  contain  links  to  other  
blogs,  web  pages  or  online  content  such  as  videos.  Blogs  also  often  contain  
features  such  as  opportunities  for  readers  to  comment,  ‘blogrolls’  (a  list  of  
hyperlinks  to  related  blogs)  and  ‘permalinks’  (hyperlinks  that  point  to  specific  
entries  or  forums  contained  in  the  blog’s  archives).    
 
Like  the  personal  advertisements  analyzed  in  the  last  section,  the  genre  of  the  
blog  also  contains  many  sub-­‐genres  used  by  different  discourse  communities  for  
different  communicative  purposes.  There  are,  for  example,  art  blogs  and  photo  
blogs  and  video  blogs  and  microblogs,  just  to  mention  a  few  varieties.  Scholars  of  
this  genre,  however,  have  identified  two  broad  types  of  blogs:  the  filter-­‐type  and  
the  diary-­‐type.  These  two  types  have  different  conventions  associated  with  them  
and  tend  to  serve  different  discourse  communities.    
 
Filter-­‐type  blogs  are  blogs  whose  main  purpose  is  to  deliver  to  readers  news  
stories  and  links  to  other  media  which  are  ‘filtered’  based  on  readers’  presumed  
membership  in  a  particular  discourse  community  (usually  characterized  by  
things  like  political  beliefs,  lifestyle,  or  profession).  Below  (figure  C3.1)  is  an  
entry  from  one  of  these  types  of  blogs  called  The  Daily  Dish,  a  political  blog  
moderated  by  the  commentator  Andrew  Sullivan  from  2006  to  2011,  which  
advocated  socially  progressive  and  fiscally  conservative  views.    
 
This  entry  illustrates  many  of  the  moves  typical  of  entries  in  filter-­‐type  blogs.  
They  usually  begin  with  a  title,  followed  by  information  about  when  the  entry  
was  published  (Date/Time)  and  who  wrote  it  (Author).  The  body  typically  
begins  with  an  introduction  to  the  material  that  will  be  linked  to,  quoted  or  
embedded,  as  well  as  some  kind  of  comment  on  the  material.  Introducing  and  
commenting  moves  are  sometimes  realized  separately,  but  sometimes,  as  in  this  
example,  they  are  realized  together  (‘A  powerful  video  of  a  man  standing  up  for  
his  mothers.’)  The  most  important  move  in  entries  in  filter-­‐type  blogs  is  that  of  
pointing  readers  to  some  news,  information  or  media  external  to  the  blog  itself.  
This  is  sometimes  done  with  a  hyperlink,  sometimes  with  a  quote  from  the  
original  source,  sometimes  with  some  embedded  media  (such  as  a  photograph  or  
a  video),  and  sometimes  with  a  combination  of  these  methods.  All  three  methods  
are  present  in  the  example  below.  Some  sort  of  attribution  of  the  original  source  
or  author  of  the  material  is  also  usually  included.  Finally,  such  entries  also  
commonly  include  tools  at  the  end  which  give  readers  a  chance  to  comment  on  
the  entry  or  to  share  it  through  email  or  social  media  like  Facebook.    

  111  
  
Figure  C3.1  From  The  Daily  Dish  
 
As  was  noted  above,  the  main  communicative  purpose  of  this  type  of  blog  entry  
is  to  ‘filter’  or  select  content  from  other  websites  that  may  be  of  interest  to  
readers  of  a  particular  blog.  It  is  this  process  of  selection,  along  with  the  
perspective  that  the  blogger  takes  on  the  selected  content  that  acts  to  define  
membership  in  the  particular  discourse  community  that  the  blog  serves.  By  
linking  to  this  particular  story,  embedding  this  particular  video,  and  referring  to  
it  as  ‘powerful’  and  to  the  speaker  as  ‘a  man  standing  up  for  his  mothers,’  the  
author  of  this  entry  constructs  the  discourse  community  which  this  blog  serves  
as  made  up  of  people  who  are  likely  to  support  marriage  rights  for  same  sex  
couples.  At  the  same  time,  readers  of  the  blog  who  choose  to  ‘share’  this  entry  
are  also  likely  to  share  it  with  other  like-­‐minded  people.  For  this  reason,  critics  of  
filter-­‐type  blogs  have  pointed  out  that,  rather  than  encouraging  political  debate,  
they  tend  to  act  as  ‘echo-­‐chambers’  in  which  members  of  discourse  communities  
simply  communicate  among  themselves  and  reinforce  one  another’s  opinions.    
Diary-­‐type  blogs  tend  to  follow  a  slightly  different  structure  and  include  different  
kinds  of  moves.  The  example  below  is  from  the  blog  of  a  young  woman  from  
Singapore  attending  Brown  University  in  the  United  States.    

  112  
  
Figure  C3.2  From  Don’t  Make  Me  Mad  (Cheryn-­ann  Chew’s  blog)  
 
As  in  filter-­‐type  blogs,  diary-­‐type  blog  entries  begin  with  a  title  and  the  date  and  
time  the  entry  was  written.  Sometimes,  as  in  this  entry,  they  do  not  contain  the  
author’s  name  since  all  of  the  entries  in  the  blog  are  by  the  same  author.  The  
move  structure  of  diary-­‐type  blogs  tends  to  be  more  open  and  unpredictable  
than  in  filter-­‐type  blogs,  since  the  purpose  is  for  the  author  to  reflect  on  an  
experience,  thought  or  memory,  and  this  reflection  may  take  the  form  of  a  
narrative,  an  analysis  or  even  an  argument.  In  the  example  above,  the  blogger  
begins  by  introducing  the  topic  she  is  going  to  be  writing  about,  then  goes  on  to  
give  some  evaluative  comment  on  this  topic,  and  then  goes  on  to  offer  some  
elaboration  or  details  about  the  topic.  Diary-­‐type  blogs  also  sometimes  include  
embedded  media,  usually  in  the  form  of  digital  photographs.    
 
As  with  filter-­‐type  blog  entries,  the  communicative  purpose  of  these  entries,  to  
share  personal  experiences,  thoughts  and  impressions,  helps  to  define  the  
discourse  community.  Although  anyone  can  read  such  blogs,  they  are  primarily  
intended  for  the  author’s  friends  and  serve  the  function  of  developing  and  
strengthening  personal  relationships.  It  is,  in  fact,  the  often  intensely  personal  
nature  of  the  material  in  such  blogs  expressed  in  a  public  forum  that  makes  this  
genre  particularly  unique.    
 
This  focus  on  creating  solidarity  within  a  particular  discourse  community,  then,  
is  something  that  both  filter-­‐type  and  diary-­‐type  blogs  share.  Often  this  is  

  113  
facilitated  through  processes  like  commenting  and  linking  to  blogs  and  blog  
entries  posted  by  other  members  of  the  community.  These  practices  of  
commenting  and  linking  also  serve  to  uphold  the  norms  of  the  community  and  
police  its  membership,  communicating  things  like  approval,  acceptance  and  
shared  values.  Although  links  or  references  to  other  texts  are  not  as  central  a  
part  of  diary-­‐type  blogs  as  they  are  of  filter-­‐type  blogs,  they  do  occur.  In  the  
example  above,  for  example,  the  author  refers  to  pictures  posted  on  her  
Facebook  page.    
 
Thus  blog  entries  exist  in  an  intertextual  relationship  with  other  texts  and  other  
genres.  They  are  sequentially  linked  in  chains  to  previously  posted  entries  and  
are  often  entrained  to  a  sequence  of  external  events,  whether  it  is  an  unfolding  
news  story  or  the  unfolding  personal  life  of  the  blogger.  They  form  networks  
with  other  texts  like  entries  on  other  blogs,  web  pages,  social  media  sites,  stories  
in  online  newspapers  and  YouTube  videos.  They  are  also  part  of  wider  ecologies  
of  texts  and  relationships  within  discourse  communities  and  societies,  often  
playing  an  important  part  in  the  management  of  social  networks  or  in  public  
debates  about  important  events  or  political  issues.    
 
Blogs  also  have  a  complex  evolutionary  history  and  relationship  with  older  
genres.  Although  blogger  Rebecca  Blood  (2000)  insists  that  blogs  are  the  
internet’s  first  ‘native  genre’,  other  scholars  have  pointed  out  their  relationship  
to  older  genres.  Diary-­‐type  blogs,  for  example,  fulfill  some  of  the  communicative  
functions  previously  fulfilled  by  handwritten  journals,  travel  logs,  personal  
letters,  and  personal  web  pages;  and  filter-­‐type  blogs  draw  on  the  traditions  of  
press  clipping  services,  news  digests,  edited  anthologies,  newspaper  editorials  
and  letters  to  the  editor.  Many  scholars  therefore  consider  blogs  to  be  a  hybrid  
genre,  the  result  of  a  creative  blending  of  multiple  other  genres  made  possible  by  
new  technology.    
 
 
    Find  additional  examples  online  
 

Activity  
 
Because  of  their  short  history  and  the  multiple  purposes  to  which  they  can  be  
put,  the  conventions  and  constraints  associated  with  blogs  are  difficult  to  pin  
down.  Even  the  distinction  between  filter-­‐type  blogs  and  diary-­‐type  blogs  
discussed  here  is  not  hard  and  fast;  many  blog  entries  combine  features  of  both  
types.    
 
The  advantage  of  analyzing  blogs  is  that  they  give  us  an  opportunity  to  observe  a  
newly  emerging  and  dynamic  genre,  which  has  the  potential  to  fulfill  many  
different  kinds  of  communicative  purposes  for  many  different  kinds  of  discourse  
communities.  In  order  to  understand  something  about  this  variety,  go  to  a  blog  
directory  like  Technorati.com  (http://technorati.com/blogs/directory/)  and  
compare  entries  from  blogs  from  two  different  categories.  The  categories  listed  

  114  
in  Technorati  include:  entertainment,  business,  sports,  politics,  autos,  
technology,  living,  green  and  science.    
 
Use  the  following  questions  to  guide  your  analysis:    
 
 What  are  the  discourse  communities  these  blogs  serve?  How  do  you  
know?  In  what  ways  do  they  fulfill  Swales’s  defining  characteristics  of  
a  discourse  community  (see  D3)  and  in  what  ways  do  they  deviate  
from  these  defining  characteristics?  How  do  the  blogs  you  have  chosen  
contribute  to  defining  and  maintaining  these  discourse  communities?    
 What  are  the  communicative  purposes  of  these  blogs?  How  do  they  
differ?    
 How  are  the  move  structures  of  the  two  entries  that  you  have  chosen  
similar  or  different?  Do  they  resemble  diary-­‐type  blog  entries  or  filter-­‐
type  blog  entries,  or  do  they  constitute  a  different  type  altogether?  
How  do  the  moves  and  the  ways  they  are  structured  contribute  to  the  
realization  of  the  overall  communicative  purposes  of  the  two  entries?    
 How  are  the  blog  entries  that  you  have  chosen  linked  to  other  texts  or  
genres  in  either  genre  chains  or  genre  networks?  How  are  they  
situated  within  larger  textual  ecologies?  What  other  genres  do  they  
resemble?      

  Do  more  activities  online  

  115  
C4  OTHER  PEOPLE’S  VOICES  
 
As  we  have  said  before,  texts  are  always  linked  to,  draw  upon,  respond  to,  and  
anticipate  other  texts.  And  the  ways  authors  position  themselves  and  their  texts  
in  relation  to  other  authors  and  other  texts  contributes  significantly  to  the  
version  of  reality  they  end  up  portraying  and  the  ideology  they  end  up  
promoting.    
 
There  are  many  different  ways  authors  might  represent  the  words  of  other  
people  in  their  texts.  They  might,  for  example,  quote  them  verbatim  using  some  
kind  of  reporting  verb  like  ‘said’  or  ‘claimed.’  Sometimes  the  effect  of  direct  
quotation  can  be  to  validate  the  words  of  the  other  person  by  implying  that  what  
they  said  or  wrote  is  so  important  and  profound  that  it  is  worth  repeating  word  
for  word.  Ironically,  however,  this  technique  can  also  have  the  opposite  effect,  
creating  a  distance  between  the  author  and  the  words  he  or  she  is  quoting  and  
sometimes  implying  a  certain  skepticism  towards  those  words  –  a  way  of  saying,  
‘please  note  that  these  are  not  my  words.’  Often  in  cases  of  direct  quotation,  the  
reporting  word  that  is  used  is  important  in  indicating  the  author’s  attitude  
towards  the  words  being  quoted;  it  is  quite  a  different  thing  to  ‘note’  something,  
to  ‘claim’  something  or  to  ‘admit’  something.    
 
Another  way  authors  represent  the  words  of  other  people  is  to  paraphrase  (or  
‘summarize’)  them.  This,  of  course,  gives  author’s  much  more  flexibility  in  
characterizing  these  words  in  ways  that  support  their  point  of  view.  Reporting  
words  are  also  often  important  in  paraphrases.  In  fact,  sometimes  words  
characterizing  what  the  other  person  seems  to  be  doing  with  his  or  her  words  
are  used  a  substitute  for  the  utterance,  as  when  ‘He  said,  “I’m  terribly  sorry.”’  is  
glossed  as  ‘He  apologized.’    
 
Sometimes  authors  will  employ  a  mixture  of  quotation  and  paraphrase,  using  
quotation  marks  only  for  selected  words  or  phrases.  This  is  most  often  done  
when  authors  want  to  highlight  particular  parts  of  what  has  been  said  either  to  
validate  those  words  or  to  express  skepticism  about  them.  Quotes  that  are  put  
around  single  words  or  phrases  are  sometimes  called  ‘scare  quotes’  and  are  
usually  a  way  of  saying  things  like  ‘so  called…’  or  ‘as  s/he  put  it…’  
 
By  far  the  most  common  way  to  appropriate  the  words  of  others  is  by  not  
attributing  them  to  another  person  at  all,  but  by  simply  asserting  them  as  facts.  
Such  practices  have  different  implications  in  different  contexts.  In  academic  
contexts,  for  example,  they  are  often  considered  acts  of  plagiarism.  In  most  other  
contexts,  however,  such  practices  are  seen  as  signs  that  the  author  of  the  text  has  
‘bought  into’  the  ideas  promoted  by  the  other  person.  If  a  politician  says  in  a  
speech,  ‘In  order  to  be  a  secure  nation,  we  must  work  for  energy  independence,’  
and  then  the  next  day  a  newspaper  editorialist  asserts,  ‘Energy  independence  is  
vital  to  our  national  security,’  without  citing  the  politician  as  the  source  of  this  
idea,  chances  are  that  the  politician  would  not  accuse  the  newspaper  of  
plagiarism,  but  rather  praise  it  for  the  wisdom  of  its  editorial  staff.    

  116  
  
Finally,  often  the  words  and  ideas  of  other  people  are  not  directly  asserted,  but  
rather  indirectly  presumed  in  texts.  Presuppositions  are  implicit  assumptions  
about  background  beliefs  that  are  presented  as  taken  for  granted  facts.  They  are  
among  the  main  devices  authors  use  to  promote  their  ideological  positions.  They  
are  particularly  effective  in  influencing  people  because  they  portray  ideas  as  
established  truths  and  preempt  opportunities  to  question  or  debate  them.    
 
Both  assertions  and  presuppositions  make  the  words  and  ideas  represented  
more  difficult  to  evaluate  because  the  sources  of  those  words  and  ideas  are  
invisible.  Like  paraphrase,  both  also  open  up  lots  of  possibilities  for  authors  to  
change,  alter,  exaggerate,  underplay  or  otherwise  distort  the  words  and  ideas  of  
others.  On  the  other  hand,  assertion  and  presupposition  also  make  the  
relationship  between  the  author  and  the  person  whose  words  he  or  she  is  
borrowing  more  ambiguous.  The  discourse  analyst  can  never  be  certain  of  how  
conscious  authors  are  of  the  source  of  these  ideas  in  the  discourse  of  others  or  
certain  of  who  these  others  are.  
 
Table  C4.1  gives  examples  of  these  different  forms  of  discourse  representation.    
 
Table  C4.1  Different  forms  of  discourse  representation  
   
Direct  quotation   The  councilwoman  said,  ‘because  of  
unforeseen  circumstances,  we  will  be  
revising  the  planned  completion  date  
of  the  project.’    
 
Paraphrase   The  councilwoman  said  that  the  
project  would  be  delayed.    
 
Selective  quotation   The  councilwoman  admitted  that  the  
completion  date  of  the  project  would  
have  to  be  ‘revised.’    
 
Assertion   The  project  is  experiencing  severe  
delays.    
 
Presupposition   Unreasonable  delays  have  plagued  the  
project.  
 
 

Whose  islands  are  these?    

 
As  an  example  of  the  way  authors  represent  the  words,  actions  and  ideas  of  other  
people  and  how  these  representations  promote  certain  versions  of  reality,  
consider  the  newspaper  article  below  published  on  the  website  of  CNN  in  2009.  
The  article  concerns  a  dispute  between  China  and  Japan  over  the  sovereignty  of  a  
small  group  of  islands  in  the  South  China  Sea  —  known  by  the  Chinese  as  the  

  117  
Diaoyu  islands  and  by  the  Japanese  as  the  Senkaku  islands  —  and  efforts  by  the  
U.S.  government  to  mediate  in  the  dispute.  Although  many  people  consider  news  
articles  to  be  relatively  ‘objective’  presentations  of  the  facts  of  a  particular  event,  
the  words  reporters  use  to  portray  participants  and  processes,  and  the  way  they  
choose  to  represent  what  relevant  parties  say  about  the  event  almost  always  
promotes  a  particular  ideological  stance.    
 
 
China  shuns  U.S.  mediation  in  its  island  dispute  with  Japan  
 
By  the  CNN  Wire  Staff  
November  3,  2010  -­‐-­‐  Updated  0401  GMT  (1201  HKT)  
 
 (CNN)  -­‐-­‐  The  United  States  can  forget  about  hosting  trilateral  talks  involving  
China  and  Japan  over  the  disputed  islands,  Beijing  said  via  state  media  
Wednesday.  
 
"The  territorial  dispute  between  China  and  Japan  over  the  Diaoyu  Islands  is  the  
business  of  the  two  nations  only,"  Foreign  Ministry  spokesman  Ma  Zhaoxu  said,  
according  to  the  Xinhua  news  agency.  
 
U.S.  Secretary  of  State  Hillary  Clinton  made  the  offer  during  discussions  with  
Chinese  Foreign  Minister  Yang  Jiechi  last  week,  Xinhua  said.  
 
Relations  between  Beijing  and  Tokyo  have  been  strained  by  their  growing  
dispute  over  the  islands,  which  China  calls  the  Diaoyu  and  Japan  calls  the  
Senkaku.  
 
Japan  in  early  September  arrested  a  Chinese  fishing  crew  off  the  islands,  leading  
to  a  diplomatic  battle.  
 
In  response,  China  made  increasingly  aggressive  diplomatic  threats.  Beijing  also  
halted  ministerial-­‐level  talks  with  Tokyo,  and  both  sides  canceled  trips  to  each  
other's  nations.  
 
Japan  has  since  released  the  fishing  crew,  but  Beijing  has  repeatedly  said  the  
islands  belong  to  China.  
 
Beijing  also  says  most  of  the  South  China  Sea  belongs  to  China,  disputing  
neighboring  countries'  claims.  The  clash  over  territorial  waters  and  islands  -­‐-­‐  
and  the  natural  resources  that  go  with  them  -­‐-­‐  is  a  flashpoint  in  the  Asia-­‐Pacific  
region.  
 
From:  http://articles.cnn.com/2010-­‐11-­‐
03/world/china.japan.disputed.islands_1_island-­‐dispute-­‐diaoyu-­‐islands-­‐beijing-­‐
and-­‐tokyo?_s=PM:WORLD  
 
The  first  thing  that  we  can  notice  about  this  version  of  the  facts  is  the  different  
kinds  of  processes  the  different  parties  are  portrayed  as  engaging  in.  China  

  118  
(meaning  the  Chinese  government)  is  described  as  ‘shunning  mediation,’  ‘making  
threats’  and  ‘halting  talks’,  whereas  the  U.S.  (in  the  person  of  the  Secretary  of  
State)  is  described  as  ‘making  an  offer’  and  wishing  to  ‘host  talks’.  Clearly,  the  
U.S.  side  is  portrayed  as  the  more  reasonable  and  conciliatory  of  the  two  parties.  
The  portrayal  of  Japan  is  more  neutral:  although  it  is  portrayed  as  ‘arresting’  a  
Chinese  fishing  crew,  later  it  is  portrayed  as  ‘releasing’  the  crew.    
 
Apart  from  the  processes  associated  with  the  different  actors,  the  ways  the  
words  of  those  actors  are  represented  also  reinforce  the  impression  that  China  
acted  aggressively.  In  the  first  paragraph,  the  words  of  the  Chinese  Foreign  
Ministry  spokesperson  are  paraphrased  in  a  way  that  gives  them  an  aggressive,  
argumentative  tone:  ‘The  United  States  can  forget  about  hosting  trilateral  talks.’  
From  the  direct  quotation  that  is  given  in  the  next  paragraph,  however,  it  is  clear  
that  this  is  not  at  all  what  the  spokesperson  said.  The  article  does  not  quote  nor  
give  much  detail  about  what  the  U.S.  Secretary  of  State  said  that  led  to  this  
response  other  than  characterizing  it  as  an  ‘offer.’  Whether  it  was  an  offer  
however  or  something  else  such  as  a  ‘threat’  or  a  ‘warning’  is  clearly  open  to  
interpretation  given  the  Chinese  response.    
 
The  final  paragraphs  of  the  article  give  background  information  about  the  
situation  in  the  form  of  multiple  assertions  and  presuppositions  whose  sources  
the  reader  cannot  be  certain  of.  It  is  asserted,  for  example,  that  China  has  made  
‘increasingly  aggressive  diplomatic  threats,’  although  it  is  not  clear  why  their  
actions  have  been  characterized  in  such  a  way  or  by  whom.  In  the  last  paragraph,  
the  seemingly  objective  statement,’  the  clash  over  the  territorial  waters  and  the  
islands  –  and  the  natural  resources  that  go  with  them  –  is  a  flashpoint  in  the  Asia-­‐
Pacific  region’,  hides  within  it  the  presupposition  that  the  motivation  behind  the  
disputes  is  primarily  economic  rather  than  a  matter  of  patriotism  or  the  
historical  legitimacy  of  the  claims.    
 
 
    Find  additional  examples  online  
 
Activity  
 
The  article  below,  published  in  the  China  Daily,  gives  a  rather  different  version  of  
events.  Try  to  analyze  it  in  the  same  way,  noting  how  different  participants  and  
processes  are  characterized,  how  the  words  of  different  actors  are  represented,  
and  how  these  features  in  the  text  contribute  to  its  ideological  stance.    
 
China:  Trilateral  talks  merely  US  wishful  thinking  
 
(Xinhua)  Updated:  2010-­‐11-­‐02  14:54  
 
BEIJING  -­‐  Chinese  Foreign  Ministry  Spokesman  Ma  Zhaoxu  said  Tuesday  it  is  
merely  wishful  thinking  of  the  United  States  to  propose  hosting  official  talks  
between  China,  Japan  and  the  US.  
 

  119  
Ma  made  the  remarks  when  asked  to  comment  on  a  hearsay  that  the  US  side  has  
told  the  Chinese  side  that  it  is  willing  to  host  trilateral  talks  between  China,  Japan  
and  the  United  States  to  impel  China  and  Japan  to  exchange  views  on  a  series  of  
issues.  
 
"I'd  like  to  clarify  the  discussions  between  Chinese  Foreign  Minister  Yang  Jiechi  
and  US  Secretary  of  State  Hillary  Clinton  in  Hanoi  last  week,"  said  Ma.  
 
He  said  both  sides  discussed  strengthening  cooperation  between  China,  Japan  
and  the  United  States,  so  as  to  work  together  for  the  peace  and  development  of  
the  Asia-­‐Pacific  region.  
 
He  noted  the  US  side  proposed  holding  official  trilateral  talks  between  China,  
Japan  and  the  United  States.  
 
"I'd  like  to  stress  that  this  is  only  the  thinking  of  the  US  side,"  he  said.  
 
He  said  China  is  looking  at  making  full  use  of  all  current  dialogue  and  
cooperation  mechanisms  in  the  Asia-­‐Pacific  region  with  the  hope  of  making  them  
more  effective  in  promoting  peace  and  development  in  the  region.  
 
"The  Diaoyu  Islands  and  their  adjacent  islets  are  an  inalienable  part  of  China's  
territory  and  the  territorial  dispute  over  the  islands  is  an  issue  between  China  
and  Japan,"  said  the  spokesman.  
 
"It  is  absolutely  wrong  for  the  United  States  to  repeatedly  claim  the  Diaoyu  
Islands  fall  within  the  scope  of  the  US-­‐Japan  Treaty  of  Mutual  Cooperation  and  
Security.  What  the  United  States  should  do  is  to  immediately  correct  its  wrong  
position,"  Ma  said.  
 
"Chinese  Foreign  Minister  Yang  Jiechi  and  China's  foreign  ministry  have  made  
clear  many  times  on  various  occasions  China's  solemn  stance,"  he  added.  
 
After  her  meeting  with  Japanese  Foreign  Minister  Seiji  Maehara  in  Hawaii  last  
Thursday,  US  Secretary  of  State  Hillary  Clinton  claimed  the  Diaoyu  Islands  issue  
could  invoke  the  US-­‐Japan  security  treaty.  
 
The  Chinese  government  was  strongly  dissatisfied  with  her  statement.  
 
Ma  said  Friday  that  as  a  bilateral  agreement  reached  during  the  Cold  War,  the  
US-­‐Japan  security  treaty  should  not  harm  the  interests  of  third  parties,  including  
China.  
 
http://www.chinadaily.com.cn/china/2010-­‐11/02/content_11491199.htm  
 
  Do  more  activities  online  

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C5  ANALYZING  SPEECH  ACTS  
 
In  this  section  we  will  consider  how  principles  from  pragmatics  and  
conversation  analysis  can  be  applied  to  understanding  how  people  make  sense  of  
potentially  ambiguous  contributions  in  social  interaction.  The  two  types  of  
contributions  we  will  focus  on  are  apologies  and  threats.  Apologies  are  
potentially  ambiguous  because,  although  they  are  often  accompanied  by  rather  
explicit  language  like  ‘I’m  sorry’  or  ‘I  apologize’,  this  language,  in  the  absence  of  
other  things  like  an  assumption  of  responsibility  or  a  promise  not  to  repeat  the  
offending  action,  is  sometimes  not  enough  to  make  the  apology  felicitous.  
Furthermore,  words  like  ‘I’m  sorry’  are  sometimes  used  in  cases  where  no  
apology  is  intended  at  all.  Threats  are  potentially  ambiguous  because  people  
often  issue  them  in  an  indirect  fashion  in  order  to  avoid  legal  or  moral  
accountability,  and  because,  in  some  situations,  people  might  interpret  
utterances  as  threats,  when  they  were  not  intended  as  such.  

 
Interpreting  apologies  
 
Apologies  are  among  the  most  studied  kind  of  speech  act.  Despite  this,  because  of  
the  complexity  and  context-­‐dependent  nature  of  apologies,  there  is  still  
considerable  disagreement  among  scholars  as  to  the  conditions  that  must  be  
present  to  make  an  apology  felicitous.  Part  of  the  reason  for  this  is  that  people  
themselves  vary  considerably  in  terms  of  what  they  require  to  be  ‘satisfied’  by  
another’s  attempt  at  apologizing  in  different  situations.    Consider  the  following  
conversation);  
 
A:  You  forgot!  
B:  Yes.  I  am  sorry.    
A:  You're  always  doing  it.  
B:  I  know.  
    (from  Schegloff  1988)  
 
As  analysts  looking  at  this  conversation  with  no  knowledge  of  the  context  in  
which  it  takes  place,  we  must  rely  on  the  sequential  placement  of  the  utterances  
in  order  to  make  sense  of  what  the  speakers  mean  by  their  words.  In  particular,  
the  phrase  ‘I  am  sorry’  in  B’s  utterance  in  the  second  line  helps  us  to  make  sense  
of  A’s  previous  utterance  (‘You  forgot’)  as  a  ‘complaint’  rather  than  as  simply  an  
assertion.    At  the  very  least,  we  can  be  sure  that  B  has  taken  this  utterance  to  be  a  
complaint.  Furthermore,  coming  as  it  does  after  a  statement  about  his  or  her  own  
behavior  (You  forgot!),  rather  than  a  statement  about  something  or  somebody  
else  (like  ‘It’s  raining’),  we  are  able  to  interpret  B’s  statement  ‘I  am  sorry’  as  an  
apology  rather  than  an  expression  sympathy.  Finally,  we  are  able  to  interpret  B’s  
statement  as  an  apology  because  A  appears  to  interpret  in  that  way.    
 
At  the  same  time,  however,  A  does  not  fully  accept  B’s  apology:  rather  than  
saying  something  like,  ‘It’s  okay,’  he  or  she  makes  yet  another  assertion  (‘You’re  

  121  
always  doing  it’),  which  we  also  interpret  as  a  complaint,  or  rather,  an  
elaboration  on  the  first  complaint.  This  is  not  the  preferred  response  to  an  
apology  (which  is  an  acceptance  of  the  apology)  and  thus  leads  B  to  infer  that  
further  work  has  to  be  performed  on  the  apology  front.  Thus  B’s  next  
contribution,  ‘I  know’,  is  offered  not  as  a  simple  statement  of  fact  or  agreement  
but  as  a  further  admission  of  guilt,  an  elaboration  of  the  original  apology.  
 
The  important  thing  to  notice  about  this  exchange  is  that  the  statement  ‘I  am  
sorry’  is  apparently  not  sufficient  to  successfully  perform  the  apology.  In  the  first  
instance  it  is  also  accompanied  by  an  acknowledgement  of  fault  (‘Yes’),  but  even  
this  is  not  enough  to  elicit  A’s  acceptance  of  the  apology.  B  is  also  required  to  
acknowledge  an  even  greater  fault  (that  his  or  her  ‘forgetting’  is  not  a  
momentary  lapse  but  a  habitual  behavior).  Therefore,  even  when  an  utterance  
seems  to  satisfy  a  set  of  objective  conditions  for  an  apology,  there  is  no  
guarantee  that  it  will  be  accepted  as  such  by  the  recipient.    
 
A  number  of  scholars  have  attempted  to  formulate  the  ‘felicity  conditions’  for  
apologies.  Owen  (1983),  for  example,  offers  this  simple  set  of  criteria:    
   
• The  act  A  specified  in  the  propositional  content  is  an  offence  against  
addressee  H  
• H  would  have  preferred  S’s  not  doing  A  to  S’s  doing  A  and  S  believes  H  
would  have  preferred  S’s  not  doing  A  to  his  doing  A  
• A  does  not  benefit  H  and  S  believes  A  does  not  benefit  H  
• S  regrets  (is  sorry  for)  having  done  A  
• (the  utterance)  counts  as  an  expression  of  regret  by  S  for  having  done  A.    

There  are  at  least  two  potential  problems  with  this  set  of  conditions.  The  first  is  
that  the  propositional  content  of  apologies  (what  is  being  apologized  for)  is  often  
not  explicitly  stated  in  the  apology  itself  but  rather  implied  based  on  some  
pervious  action  or  utterance,  and  when  it  is  stated,  even  if  it  represents  an  
offence  against  the  addressee,  it  may  not  be  exactly  the  offence  for  which  the  
addressee  is  seeking  an  apology.  B  in  the  above  example  might  say,  ‘I’m  sorry  for  
upsetting  you,’  which  is  quite  different  from  saying  ‘I’m  sorry  I  forgot.”    
 
The  second  problem  has  to  do  with  what  needs  to  be  done  in  order  for  the  
utterance  to  ‘count’  as  an  expression  of  regret.  As  we  saw  above,  the  utterance  ‘I  
am  sorry’,  which  is  clearly  an  expression  of  regret,  is  not  always  sufficient  to  
accomplish  an  apology.  At  the  same  time,  there  are  many  instances  in  which  
regret  is  expressed  which  would  not  be  considered  apologies.  For  example,  a  job  
applicant  might  receive  a  letter  with  the  sentence,  ‘we  regret  to  inform  you  that  
your  application  has  not  been  accepted.’  Even  though  this  is  an  explicit  
expression  of  regret,  and  the  addressee  might  indeed  regard  the  rejection  as  an  
offense,  few  people  would  regard  this  as  a  true  apology.    
 
Cohen,  Olshtain  and  Rosenstein  (1986)  have  pointed  out  that  apologies  often  
involve  one  or  more  of  the  following  verbal  strategies:    
 
• an  expression  of  apology  (I  am  sorry)  

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 • an  explanation  or  account  of  the  situation  (I’ve  had  a  lot  on  my  mind  
lately)  
• an  acknowledgement  of  responsibility  (I  know)  
• an  offer  of  repair  (how  can  I  make  it  up  to  you?)  
• a  promise  of  forbearance  (I’ll  never  do  it  again)    

The  ‘perfect’  apology,  in  fact,  contains  all  of  these  elements,  even  when  some  or  
most  of  them  are  implicit  rather  than  stated  outright.  For  something  to  have  the  
‘force’  of  the  apology,  however,  only  one  of  these  strategies  is  necessary.  In  some  
cases  in  which  only  one  strategy  is  used,  however,  the  speaker  leaves  it  up  to  the  
addressee  to  infer  that  an  apology  has  been  made  by  referring  to  the  
conversational  maxims.  I  might,  for  example,  say  ‘I  feel  terrible  about  shouting  at  
you  yesterday,’  flouting  the  maxim  of  relevance  (my  internal  state  of  mind  may  
not  seem  directly  relevant  to  our  conversation),  leading  my  interlocutor  to  take  
the  statement  as  implying  something  more  than  a  simple  assertion.  
In  many  cases,  however,  addressees  require  more  than  one  of  the  above  
strategies  to  be  used  in  order  to  be  satisfied  that  the  apology  is  ‘complete’  and  
‘sincere’.    
 

Activity  
 
One  of  the  most  famous  disagreements  regarding  the  speech  act  of  apologizing  
began  on  April  1,  2001  when  a  US  spy  plane  flying  without  permission  in  Chinese  
airspace  collided  with  a  Chinese  fighter  jet,  causing  it  to  crash  and  killing  the  
pilot,  before  making  an  emergency  landing  on  Hainan  island.  The  Chinese  
authorities  detained  the  crew  of  the  US  plane  for  eleven  days  while  they  waited  
for  the  U.S.  to  ‘apologize’  for  illegally  entering  their  airspace  and  causing  the  
death  of  the  pilot.  The  incident  ended  when  the  U.S.  government  issued  what  has  
come  to  be  known  as  ‘the  letter  of  the  two  sorries’.  Many  on  both  the  U.S.  and  
Chinese  sides  insisted,  however,  that  the  ‘two  sorries’  expressed  in  the  letter  
were  not  ‘true  apologies’.    
 
The  ‘two  sorries’  were:    
 
1)  Both  President  Bush  and  Secretary  of  State  Powell  have  expressed  
their  sincere  regret  over  your  missing  pilot  and  aircraft.  Please  convey  to  
the  Chinese  people  and  to  the  family  of  pilot  Wang  Wei  that  we  are  very  
sorry  for  their  loss.  
 
2)  We  are  very  sorry  the  entering  of  Chinese  air  space  and  the  landing  did  
not  have  verbal  clearance,  but  are  pleased  the  crew  landed  safely.    
(United  States  Government,  2001)  
 
Based  on  Owen’s  felicity  conditions  for  an  apology  and  Cohen  and  his  colleagues’  
list  of  strategies,  decide  whether  or  not  you  think  these  ‘sorries’  constitute  true  
apologies.  Give  reasons  for  your  decision.  You  should  particularly  consider:    
 
1)  if  the  propositional  content  referred  to  matches  with  the  offenses  perceived  
by  the  Chinese  side;  

  123  
3)  if  enough  of  the  strategies  for  apologizing  are  expressed  or  implied  to  make  
the  apologies  convincing.  
 

Interpreting  threats  
 
Threats  suffer  from  a  similar  ambiguity  as  apologies  because  people  often  
depend  a  great  deal  on  implicature  when  issuing  them.  Consequently,  as  with  
apologies,  how  they  are  interpreted  by  those  to  whom  they  are  issued  matters  a  
great  deal.    
 
In  some  ways  the  felicity  conditions  for  threatening  are  quite  similar  to  those  for  
promising,  warning  and  advising.  All  of  these  speech  acts  have  to  do  with  
something  that  will  or  will  not  happen  in  the  future,  depending  on  whether  or  
not  certain  conditions  are  met.  In  fact,  very  often  words  like  promise,  advise  and  
warn  are  used  to  issue  threats,  as  in:    
 
I’m  warning  you.  If  I  see  you  around  here  again,  I  promise  you,  I’ll  kill  you.    
 
and  
 
If  you  value  your  life,  I  advise  you  to  pay  what  you  owe.    
 
The  main  differences  between  a  threat  and  these  other  three  speech  acts  are  that  
1)  unlike  a  promise,  what  is  threatened  is  harmful  rather  than  beneficial  to  the  
addressee,  2)  unlike  a  warning,  the  action  requested  is  for  the  benefit  of  the  
speaker  rather  than  the  addressee,  and,  3)  unlike  advice,  the  speaker  takes  his  or  
her  own  perspective  not  the  hearer’s  and  he  or  she  controls  the  outcome  rather  
than  the  hearer.    
 
The  linguist  Roger  Shuy  summarizes  these  differences  in  the  following  table:    
 
Table  C5.1  Comparison  of  threatening,  warning,  advising  and  promising  (adapted  
from  Shuy  1993:  98)  
 
  Threatening   Warning   Advising   Promising  
To  the   √        
speaker’s  
benefit  
To  the     √   √   √  
hearer’s  
benefit  
To  the   √        
hearer’s  
detriment  
From   √   √     √  
speaker’s  
perspective  
From  hearer’s       √    

  124  
perspective  
Speaker   √       √  
controls  
outcome  
Hearer     √   √    
controls  
outcome  
 

Activity  
 
Roger  Shuy  is  a  forensic  linguist,  the  kind  of  language  expert  who  is  sometimes  
called  upon  by  courts  and  law  enforcement  officers  to  make  judgments  about  
what  people  meant,  in  order  to  determine  if  they  have  committed  a  crime.  In  his  
book  Language  Crimes  (1993)  he  relates  the  case  of  a  man  named  Don  Tyner  
who  was  accused  of  making  threats  to  a  business  associate  named  Vernon  Hyde  
who  resigned  from  his  organization  after  securing  ownership  of  a  number  of  
shares  in  a  racehorse.  After  Hyde’s  resignation,  Tyner  repeatedly  contacted  Hyde  
and  accused  him  of  lying  and  swindling  his  company.  Hyde  interpreted  these  
accusations  as  threats,  though  Tyner  repeatedly  denied  threatening  Hyde.  On  
one  occasion,  after  Hyde  had  accused  Tyner  of  threatening  him  several  times,  the  
following  exchange  occurred:        
 
Tyner:  How’s  David?  
Hyde:  Do  what?  
Tyner:  How’s  David?  
Hyde:  You  mean  my  son?    
Tyner:  Yep.    
Hyde:  Don,  don’t  threaten  my  son.  Do  a  lot  of  things  but  don’t  ever  
threaten  my  son.    
Tyner:  I  didn’t  threaten  anybody,  I  just  said,  ‘How’s  David?’  
              (from  Shuy  1993:109)  
 
Without  more  complete  evidence,  of  course,  it  is  impossible  to  determine  
whether  or  not  Tyner  was  really  threatening  Hyde  or  his  son.  Instead,  consider  
what  you  think  might  have  led  Hyde  to  interpret  the  statement  ‘How’s  David’  as  a  
threat  based  your  knowledge  of:    
1)  the  cooperative  principle  and  conversational  maxims;  
2)  The  felicity  conditions  for  a  threat.    
 
  Do  more  activities  online  

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C6  ANALYZING  CONVERSATIONAL  STRATEGIES  
 
In  this  section  we  will  further  explore  the  strategies  we  use  to  manage  
relationships  (face)  and  activities  (frames)  in  interaction.  The  kinds  of  
interaction  we  will  use  as  examples  in  this  section,  however,  are  not  from  face-­‐
to-­‐face  conversations,  but  rather  from  computer-­‐mediated  interactions,  in  
particular,  interactions  using  Facebook  and  MSN  Messenger.    
 
As  we  have  explained,  mediated  interactions  are  different  from  face-­‐to-­‐face  
spoken  conversations  in  a  number  of  ways.  For  one  thing,  in  much  computer-­‐
mediated  communication,  people  type  their  ‘utterances’  rather  than  speaking  
them.  In  addition,  these  interactions  rarely  involve  the  same  kind  of  synchrony  
that  face-­‐to-­‐face  conversation  does.  Whereas  face-­‐to-­‐face  interactions  occur  in  
‘real  time’,  giving  us  access  to  other’s  people’s  utterances  as  they  are  forming  
them,  most  computer  mediated  interaction  is  asynchronous,  involving  a  ‘time  
lag’  between  production  and  reception,  whether  it  be  the  momentary  lag  
between  the  time  when  one  party  types  a  message  and  the  other  person  reads  it  
which  we  experience  in  instant  messaging  or  the  much  longer  time  lags  
associated  with  email,  blogs  and  social  networking  sites.    
 
Perhaps  the  most  important  difference  between  face-­‐to-­‐face  interaction  and  
computer-­‐mediated  interaction  is  that  many  of  the  non-­‐verbal  and  paralinguistic  
resources  available  in  face-­‐to-­‐face  communication  are  not  available  in  text  based  
computer  mediated  communication.  This  is  significant  because  these  are  
precisely  the  resources  people  often  use  as  contextualization  cues  to  frame  their  
conversational  activities,  and  they  can  also  play  an  important  role  in  the  face  
strategies  of  involvement  and  independence.  Users  of  text  based  communication  
tools,  then,  need  to  make  use  of  different  resources  such  as  graphics,  emoticons,  
orthography  and  punctuation  to  fulfill  the  functions  that  non-­‐verbal  and  
paralinguistic  communication  do  in  face-­‐to-­‐face  encounters.    
 

Face  strategies  on  Facebook  

 
Perhaps  more  than  any  other  kind  of  computer-­‐mediated  communication,  social  
networking  sites  are  designed  to  give  users  tools  to  communicate  about  and  
manage  their  social  relationships  with  others.  Facebook  is  about  ‘face’  precisely  
in  the  sense  in  which  we  defined  it  in  Section  A6:  ‘the  negotiated  public  image  
mutually  granted  to  each  other  by  participants  in  a  communicative  event.’  Users  
of  Facebook  are  centrally  concerned  with  constructing  and  maintaining  their  
‘public  images’,  with  saving  face,  and  with  ‘giving  face’  to  others.    
 
It  is  not  uncommon  for  people  to  have  many  Facebook  ‘friends’  (hundreds  or  
even  thousands),  and  yet  they  do  not  enjoy  the  same  kind  of  relationships  with  
all  of  these  ‘friends’:  with  some  of  them  they  are  socially  close,  and  with  others  
they  are  socially  distant;  some  of  them  are  their  social  equals,  while  others  are  in  
a  hierarchical  relationship  with  them.  The  problem  with  Facebook,  however,  is  

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that  it  is  biased  towards  a  face  system  of  symmetrical  solidarity.  Nearly  all  of  the  
resources  it  makes  available,  from  the  initial  mechanism  of  ‘friending’,  to  photo  
sharing,  to  the  exchange  of  virtual  tokens  like  ‘pokes’  and  ‘vampire  bites’  are  
designed  to  express  involvement.  Some  (see  for  example  Kiesler  1986,  Landow  
1992)  have  even  suggested  that  it  is  a  fundamental  characteristic  of  all  
computer-­‐mediated  communication  that  it  flattens  hierarchies  and  encourages  
self-­‐disclosure,  a  phenomenon  Joseph  Walther  (1996)  calls  ‘hyperpersonal  
communication’.    
 
For  some  users  this  is  not  a  problem  —  the  whole  point  of  a  social  networking  
site  for  them  is  to  help  them  get  closer  to  those  in  their  social  network  —  and  it  
certainly  is  not  a  problem  for  the  company  that  runs  Facebook  since  the  more  
people  share  with  one  another  using  involvement  strategies,  the  more  
information  about  them  is  available  to  sell  to  advertisers.  It  does  become  a  
problem,  however,  when  people  who  are  accustomed  to  hierarchical  or  
deference  face  systems  in  face-­‐to-­‐face  communication  have  to  negotiate  their  
relationships  in  an  environment  that  is  biased  towards  involvement,  as  when  
students  and  professors  or  employees  and  employers  become  ‘friends’.    
 
These  difficulties  are  especially  salient  in  ‘wall  posts,’  since  these  constitute  
‘publically  performed  conversations’  which  people  who  are  not  involved  in  
typically  have  access  to.  Therefore,  the  relationships  people  enact  in  these  
interactions  are  not  just  negotiated  between  the  interactants,  but  also  displayed  
to  a  larger  audience.      
 
The  example  below  (figure  C6.1)  illustrates  how  one  of  my  students  strategically  
mixed  independence  and  involvement  strategies  when  ‘tagging’  me  in  a  picture  
in  her  photo  album.    
 

 
Figure  C6.1  Excerpt  from  the  author’s  Facebook  Wall  
 
The  first  thing  that  should  be  noted  regarding  this  example  is  that  ‘tagging’  
someone  in  a  photo  on  Facebook  is  a  clear  example  of  involvement.  Not  only  
does  it  assume  a  relationship  of  solidarity,  but  also  makes  the  assumption  that  
the  person  tagged  does  not  mind  advertising  this  relationship  to  other  users.  
Consequently,  it  is  also  a  threat  to  the  ‘negative  face’  of  the  person  who  has  been  
tagged,  potentially  violating  their  desire  for  autonomy  and  privacy.  There  are  
also  other  instances  of  involvement  in  this  example,  such  as  the  optimistic  and  
complimentary  message,  the  informal  language  and  the  use  of  emoticons  (like  :)  

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and  :D)  and  unconventional  spelling  and  punctuation  (like  ‘ur’,  ‘jokessssss’,  and  
the  repetition  of  the  exclamation  point  at  the  end  of  the  message).    
 
At  the  same  time,  there  are  also  instances  of  independence  strategies,  most  
notably  the  use  of  the  title  ‘Prof.  Jones’  to  address  me.  What  is  interesting  about  
this  is  that,  like  many  university  professors,  I  am  on  a  ‘first  name  basis’  with  my  
students.  In  other  words,  this  student  uses  an  independence  strategy  on  
Facebook  which  she  probably  would  not  use  in  face-­‐to-­‐face  interaction  with  me.  
One  reason  for  this  may  be  to  compensate  for  the  involvement  strategies  that  
otherwise  dominate  the  message  and  to  mitigate  the  potential  threat  to  my  
negative  face.    
 
    Find  additional  examples  online  
 

Activity  
 
Analyze  the  postings  on  Facebook  or  some  other  social  network  service  you  use.  
Does  this  service  encourage  the  adoption  of  a  particular  face  system  among  
users?  Do  the  people  in  your  network  (including  yourself)  use  different  mixtures  
of  independence  and  involvement  strategies  when  interacting  with  people  with  
whom  they  have  different  kinds  of  relationships?  In  particular,  how  do  people  
who  are  socially  distant  or  who  are  in  hierarchal  relationships  manage  face  
strategies?  Can  you  find  examples  of  interactions  which  would  have  been  
managed  differently  had  they  taken  place  face-­‐to-­‐face?    
 
 
Contextualization  cues  in  instant  messaging  
 
As  we  have  said  above,  text-­‐based  computer  mediated  communication  differs  
from  face-­‐to-­‐face  conversation  in  that  users  do  not  have  access  to  many  of  the  
resources  normally  used  to  issue  contextualization  cues,  such  as  body  language,  
facial  expressions  and  paralinguistic  signals.  As  a  result,  they  have,  over  the  
years,  developed  a  multitude  of  other  ways  with  which  to  frame  and  reframe  
their  utterances,  including  emoticons,  screen  names,  status  updates,  
unconventional  spelling,  creative  use  of  punctuation,  and  code-­‐mixing  (the  
mixing  of  words  from  different  languages).  A  number  of  scholars  (see  for  
example  Danet  et  al.  1997,  Herring  2001)  have  shown  how  users  of  chat  and  
instant  messaging  systems  use  such  cues  to  signal  ‘what’s  going  on’  in  online  
interaction.    
 
Speakers  of  Chinese  like  many  of  the  students  I  teach  in  Hong  Kong  also  have  at  
their  disposal  written  ‘final  particles’,  sounds  that  often  occur  at  the  end  of  
spoken  utterances  which  signal  the  speaker’s  attitude  towards  the  utterance  or  
the  hearer,  which  users  of  chat  and  instant  messaging  programs  regularly  insert  
(often  in  Romanized  form)  in  their  written  messages  (though  they  hardly  ever  
appear  in  more  formal  written  Chinese).    
 

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Below  is  an  example  of  how  such  resources  can  be  used  as  contextualization  cues  
in  instant  messaging  exchanges.  It  is  an  excerpt  from  a  conversation  between  
two  university  students  in  Hong  Kong,  one  a  female  named  Tina,  and  the  other  a  
male  named  Barnett.    
 
Barnett:  u're....~?!  
Tina:  tina  ar.......  
Tina:  a  beautiful  girl........  
Tina:  haha...  
Tina:  ^_^  
Barnett:  ai~  
Barnett:  i  think  i'd  better  leave  right  now....^o^!  
 
The  conversation  starts  out  with  Barnett  asking  for  clarification  of  Tina’s  
identity.  The  tilde  (~)  here  signifies  a  lengthening  of  the  previous  utterance,  
giving  it  a  playful,  insistent  quality.  Tina  replies  with  her  name,  followed  by  a  
Romanized  final  particle  (‘ar’),  which  in  Cantonese  is  often  used  to  soften  
affirmative  statements  so  they  do  not  sound  too  abrupt,  followed  by  a  number  of  
ellipsis  marks  (…)  indicating  that  there  is  more  to  come.  In  her  next  message  she  
elaborates  on  her  identity,  referring  to  herself  as  ‘a  beautiful  girl’,  which  might  be  
interpreted  as  either  a  boast  or  an  attempt  at  seduction.  In  her  next  two  
messages,  however,  she  puts  a  ‘joking  frame’  around  her  previous  description  
with  the  words  ‘haha…’  and  a  smiling  emoticon  (^_^).  Barnett  replies  with  ‘ai’  a  
Romanization  of  the  Cantonese  word    哎,  often  used  as  an  expression  of  pain,  
frustration  or  indignation,  which  he  lengthens  with  a  tilde  (~)  in  the  same  way  it  
might  be  if  spoken  in  a  particularly  exaggerated  way.  He  then  adds,  in  the  next  
message,  that  he  thinks  he  had  better  leave  the  conversation,  but  reframes  this  as  
a  playful  threat  with  the  humorous  emoticon  ^o^  ,  which  represents  the  face  of  a  
clown.    
 
What  is  going  on  in  this  short  exchange,  of  course,  has  very  little  to  do  with  Tina  
giving  an  objective  appraisal  of  her  looks  or  even  boasting,  or  with  Barnett  
expressing  concern  and  threatening  to  terminate  the  conversation.  Instead,  this  
is  clearly  an  episode  of  playful  teasing  or  flirting.  Without  the  contextualization  
cues  supplied  by  such  things  as  punctuation,  emoticons,  and  tokens  like  ‘haha’,  
however,  the  conversation  would  take  on  a  very  different  meaning.    
 

Activity  
 
a.  Choose  an  utterance  which  you  might  send  to  your  friend  via  instant  
messaging  such  as  ‘u  finish  hw?’  (‘have  you  finished  the  homework?)  and  discuss  
how  the  message  could  be  ‘framed’  differently  (as,  for  example,  a  warning,  an  
offer,  a  boast,  a  complaint,  a  sympathetic  remark,  etc.)  by  attaching  to  it  one  of  
the  emoticons  from  the  range  of  default  choices  offered  by  MSN  Messenger  
(Figure  C6.2).    
 

  129  
  
 
Fig  C6.2  MSN  Messenger  emoticons  
 
b.  Save  an  instant  messaging  conversation  as  a  ‘history  file’  and  analyze  it  in  
terms  of  how  things  like  code  choice,  spelling,  punctuation,  capitalization  and  
emoticons  are  used  to  strategically  frame  and  re-­‐frame  messages.    
 
  Do  more  activities  online  

  130  
C7  ANALYZING  CONTEXTS  
 
Analyzing  the  communicative  competence  members  of  a  particular  speech  
community  bring  to  a  particular  speech  event  requires  more  than  just  the  
analysis  of  texts  or  transcripts  (though  one  can  often  tell  a  lot  from  such  an  
analysis).  It  requires  observing  people  interacting  in  the  speech  event  and  
talking  to  them  about  what  they  think  they  need  to  know  in  order  to  participate  
in  it  successfully.  Often  one  must  talk  with  multiple  participants  in  order  to  find  
out  what  it  is  like  for  people  playing  different  roles  in  the  event.    
 
The  anthropologist  Gregory  Bateson  and  the  psychiatrist  Jurgen  Ruesch  (Ruesch  
and  Bateson  1968)  say  that  there  are  at  least  four  kinds  of  information  an  
ethnographer  should  gather:  1)  members’  generalizations  (what  participants  
think  other  people  need  to  know  and  do  to  participate  in  the  speech  event);  2)  
individual  experiences  (the  specific,  concrete  knowledge  and  experiences  of  
individual  people  who  have  participated  in  the  speech  event  in  the  past);  3)  
‘objective’  observation  (the  observation  of  people  participating  in  the  speech  
event);  and  4)  the  analyst’s  comparison  of  what  he  or  she  has  observed  and  
heard  from  participants  with  his  or  her  own  knowledge  and  behavior  in  similar  
speech  events  in  his  or  her  own  speech  community.  Sometimes  these  different  
kinds  of  information  contradict  one  another:  participants,  for  example,  may  
attribute  certain  behavior  to  other  members  of  their  speech  community  but  say  
that  they  themselves  do  things  differently,  or  they  may  say  they  behave  in  a  
particular  way  but  can  be  observed  behaving  in  an  entirely  different  way.  The  
important  thing  for  the  analyst  is  not  to  privilege  any  of  these  four  kinds  of  
information,  but  to  take  them  together  in  order  to  get  a  full  picture  of  what  is  
going  on  from  the  point  of  view  of  the  participants.  It  is  important  to  remember  
that  the  ethnographer  of  speaking  is  less  interested  in  what  is  ‘objectively’  
occurring  in  a  speech  event  as  in  what  participants  think  is  occurring  and  what  
they  need  to  know  to  participate  as  legitimate  members  of  their  group.    
 
The  greatest  danger  in  using  a  model  like  Hymes’s  SPEAKING  model  is  that  the  
analyst  simply  describes  the  expectations  participants  have  regarding  each  of  the  
components  in  a  rather  mechanical  way,  like  filling  out  a  check  list,  without  
offering  much  in  the  way  of  analysis.  While  this  can  at  least  provide  a  general  
idea  of  how  the  speech  event  happens,  it  does  not  tell  us  very  much  about  why  it  
happens  the  way  it  does.  The  analyst  cannot  stop  at  just  describing  the  various  
components,  but  also  needs  to  ask  1)  why  different  components  have  particular  
expectations  associated  with  them,  2)  how  the  expectations  associated  with  
different  components  interact  and  affect  one  another,  and  3)  why  certain  
components  seem  more  important  and  other  components  less  important  to  
participants.    
 
Below  are  some  useful  tips  to  help  you  avoid  falling  into  the  trap  of  mechanical  
description:    
 
Compare  and  contrast  

  131  
One  way  to  really  understand  whether  the  communicative  competencies  you  
have  uncovered  through  your  analysis  are  really  significant  is  to  compare  and  
contrast  different  speech  events  or  the  different  experiences  and  perspectives  of  
different  participants  engaged  in  the  same  speech  event.  One  of  the  reasons  
Ruesch  and  Bateson  recommend  that  analysts  compare  the  speech  event  they  
are  studying  with  one  that  is  more  familiar  to  them  is  to  help  them  to  better  
notice  those  aspects  of  the  speech  event  which  they  might  be  misunderstanding  
or  taking  for  granted,    
 
Be  specific  
 
It  is  important  for  the  analyst  to  be  as  specific  as  possible  in  his  or  her  
description  of  the  expectations  people  have  about  the  different  components.  This  
sometimes  involves  asking  probing  questions  or  observing  what  people  say  or  
do  carefully,  paying  close  attention  to  detail.    
 
Remember  that  all  components  are  not  equal  
 
One  of  the  most  important  things  an  analyst  will  want  to  notice  is  that  
participants  may  regard  the  expectations  governing  some  components  to  be  
stricter  than  those  governing  others,  and  that  some  behavior  might  be  regarded  
as  more  or  less  ‘compulsory’,  while  other  behavior  might  be  regarded  as  
‘optional’.  It  is  also  important  to  note  how  expectations  regarding  one  
component  can  affect  the  kinds  of  expectations  participants  have  about  other  
components.  In  other  words,  it  is  important  to  notice  which  kinds  of  behavior  
tend  to  co-­‐occur  in  speech  events  (for  example,  the  genre  of  a  joke  may  tend  to  
co-­‐occur  with  a  humorous  or  light-­‐hearted  key).    
 
Explore  transgressions  
 
One  good  way  to  understand  what  people  are  expected  to  do  in  a  particular  
situation  is  to  find  out  what  happens  when  they  fail  to  do  what  they  are  expected  
to  do.  This  is  because,  while  appropriate  behavior  usually  passes  unremarked  
upon,  inappropriate  behavior  is  often  an  occasion  for  participants  to  explicitly  
discuss  their  otherwise  tacit  assumptions  and  expectations.  Therefore,  noticing  
or  talking  with  participants  about  mistakes,  transgressions,  inappropriate  
behavior  or  ‘incompetence’  can  be  a  good  way  to  clarify  what  they  regard  as  
appropriate  and  why.    
 
 

‘Don't  Bite  My  Shit’  

 
It  would  be  impossible  to  conduct  a  full  ethnographic  analysis  of  a  speech  event  
in  the  space  remaining  in  this  section.  What  I  can  do,  however,  is  discuss  the  
meaning  and  significance  of  a  particular  utterance  in  the  social  and  cultural  
context  in  which  it  occurs.  The  utterance,  one  which  I  heard  frequently  during  
my  ethnographic  study  of  urban  skateboarders  in  Hong  Kong  (reported  in  Jones  
2008),  is:  “Hey  man,  don’t  bite  my  shit.’  I  heard  this  utterance  or  some  variation  
of  it  many  times  during  my  fieldwork,  sometimes  uttered  in  a  playful  manner,  

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and  sometimes  with  deadly  seriousness.  In  order  to  understand  the  meaning  of  
the  utterance  and  the  kinds  of  cultural  expectations  that  underpin  it,  it  is  
necessary  to  understand  something  about  the  cultural  context  in  which  it  occurs.    
 
Skateboarding  in  Hong  Kong,  as  in  most  places,  takes  place  within  the  context  of  
a  speech  situation,  which  we  can  call  a  ‘skate  session’.  These  sessions  usually  
occur  at  skate  parks,  but  sometimes  occur  in  other  places  such  as  on  sidewalks,  
in  parking  lots  and  in  city  squares.  Skaters  regard  the  skating  that  goes  on  in  
parks  and  that  which  goes  on  in  these  other  places  to  be  two  different  ‘genres’  of  
skating,  one  which  is  called  ‘park  skating’  and  the  other  is  called  ‘street  skating’.  
In  Hong  Kong,  ‘park  skating’  always  occurs  during  the  day  when  the  skate  parks  
are  open,  and  ‘street  skating’  almost  always  occurs  at  night  when  fewer  people  
are  around  to  interfere  with  the  activity.  Skate  sessions  can  last  many  hours  and  
sometimes  involve  skaters  moving  from  setting  to  setting.  They  may,  for  
example,  begin  a  session  in  the  skate  park  in  the  afternoon,  and  then  move  to  the  
street  after  the  skate  park  closes.    
 
Skaters  generally  participate  in  skate  sessions  in  ‘crews’  or  ‘posses’,  groups  of  
people  who  usually  skate  together  and  who  often  share  a  certain  style  of  
dressing  or  acting  (for  example  ‘punk’  or  ‘hip-­‐hop’)  and  are  usually  of  a  similar  
level  of  skill.  People  hardly  ever  skate  alone.  One  reason  for  this  is  that  among  
the  main  aims  of  a  skating  session  is  to  let  others  witness  one  performing  daring  
or  difficult  tricks.  This  aim  of  making  oneself  as  spectacle  for  others  is  reinforced  
by  the  the  fact  that  they  often  bring  video  cameras  with  them  during  skate  
sessions  to  film  one  another.    
 
At  a  skate  park  at  any  given  time  there  are  likely  to  be  multiple  ‘crews’,  and  one  
of  the  core  competencies  for  members  of  this  community  is  understanding  how  
to  manage  the  use  of  space  in  order  to  avoid  conflicts  among  crews.  In  street  
skating  sessions  these  conflicts  can  sometimes  become  intense  if  one  crew  
claims  the  exclusive  right  to  skate  at  a  particular  spot  and  tries  to  deny  access  to  
other  crews.  At  skate  parks,  this  does  not  happen  since  these  parks  are  public  
property  and  the  rights  for  all  skaters  to  use  them  is  policed  by  park  attendants  
and  security  guards.  Therefore,  different  crews  must  cooperate  and  carefully  
negotiate  the  use  of  space.    
 
Skate  sessions  normally  consist  of  multiple  ‘speech  events’  including  
conversations,  horseplay,  games  of  ‘SKATE’  (a  highly  structured  game  in  which  
skaters  compete  in  performing  tricks)  and  ‘doing  lines’.  ‘Doing  lines’  involves  
skaters  taking  turns  executing  ‘lines’  upon  various  obstacles  (such  as  rails,  stairs  
and  ramps).  A  ‘line’  is  one  or  more  ‘tricks’  (most  of  which  have  names  ‘ollie’  and  
‘kickflip’)  done  in  succession.  Skaters  work  to  compose  lines  which  showcase  
their  skill  and  imagination.  Often  members  of  different  crews  will  occupy  
different  parts  of  the  park  and  content  themselves  with  different  obstacles.  
Sometimes,  however,  people  from  different  crews  make  use  of  the  same  obstacle,  
having  to  take  turns  with  one  another.    It  is  in  the  mechanism  of  turn  taking  
among  members  of  different  crews  that  the  notion  of  ‘biting  someone’s  shit’  
becomes  relevant.    
 

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‘Biting  someone’s  shit’  in  the  context  of  the  ‘speech  event’  of  ‘doing  lines’  refers  
to  the  action  of  imitating  or  repeating  the  line  executed  by  the  previous  person  in  
the  queue.  The  meaning  of  this  action  depends  crucially  on  the  relationship  
between  the  person  who  does  it  and  the  person  whose  line  has  been  imitated.  
When  it  is  done  by  a  member  of  a  different  crew,  it  can  be  taken  as  a  challenge  or  
sign  of  disrespect  –  a  transgression  of  the  rules  of  etiquette  associated  with  
‘doing  lines’.  In  this  case,  the  utterance  ‘Hey  man,  don’t  bite  my  shit,’  can  be  
interpreted  as  a  warning  or  a  threat.  In  cases  where  the  person  who  ‘bites  one’s  
shit’  is  a  member  of  one’s  own  crew,  it  can  be  seen  as  a  matter  of  friendly  
competition  or  even  a  way  of  showing  respect  for  one’s  crew  member  by  
emulating  him.  In  this  case,  the  utterance  ‘Hey  man,  don’t  bite  my  shit,’  might  be  
interpreted  as  teasing.  In  the  context  of  a  different  speech  event,  such  as  a  game  
of  ‘SKATE’,  repeating  the  trick  that  the  previous  person  has  done  is  expected  and  
so  does  not  constitute  ‘biting  someone’s  shit’.    
 
The  point  that  this  example  illustrates  is  that  the  meaning  of  an  utterance  like  
‘don’t  bite  my  shit’  cannot  be  interpreted  with  reference  to  only  one  component  
of  the  SPEAKING  model,  but  can  only  be  understood  as  a  matter  of  the  
interaction  among  multiple  components:  place,  participants,  goals,  the  expected  
sequence  of  acts,  the  tone  in  which  the  utterance  is  said,  the  various  media  
involved  in  the  communication  (including  things  like  participants’  dress  and  
their  skateboards),  norms  about  what  constitutes  ‘showing  respect’  to  others,  
and  the  genre—whether  it  is  ‘park  skating’  or  ‘street  skating’.  More  importantly,  
successful  use  of  and  interpretation  of  this  speech  act  incorporates  a  complex  
range  of  cultural  knowledge  regarding  the  values,  identities  and  norms  of  
conduct  of  this  particular  community  of  young  (mostly  male)  skateboarders  in  
Hong  Kong.    
 
    Find  additional  examples  online  
 
 

Activity  
 
Choose  a  speech  event  in  which  people  that  you  know  normally  participate  but  
with  which  you  are  not  entirely  familiar.  Interview  the  people  involved  with  the  
aim  of  finding  out  what  their  expectations  are  about  who  should  say  what  to  
whom,  when,  how  and  why.  Ask  people  both  about  the  kind  of  communicative  
competence  most  members  of  their  speech  community  have  and  about  their  own  
personal  competence  and  their  own  personal  experiences  with  this  particular  
speech  event.  After  that,  see  if  you  can  find  occasion  to  observe  people  taking  
part  in  this  speech  event.  Notice  not  just  what  is  said,  by  who  says  it,  when  and  
how.  Use  the  components  of  the  SPEAKING  model  as  a  guideline  for  your  
analysis.  Choose  a  number  of  phrases  or  an  exchange  that  you  think  could  not  be  
fully  understood  outside  of  the  context  of  this  speech  event,  and  list  the  kind  of  
knowledge  people  need  to  have  to  interpret  these  utterances  correctly.    
 
  Do  more  activities  online  

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C8  DOING  MEDIATED  DISCOURSE  ANALYSIS  
 
In  this  section  we  will  explore  how  to  apply  the  tools  of  mediated  discourse  
analysis  to  the  analysis  of  social  actions,  social  practices  and  sites  of  engagement.  
The  three  concepts  that  we  will  be  working  with  are:    
 
1)  the  notion  of  affordances  and  constraints:  the  idea  that  different  kinds  of  
cultural  tools  make  certain  kinds  of  actions  and  certain  kinds  of  social  identities  
associated  with  those  actions  either  more  or  less  possible;    
 
2)  the  notion  of  social  practices:  the  idea  that  certain  actions  combined  with  
other  actions  and  with  certain  cultural  tools  come  to  be  regarded  as    
recognizable  social  practices  and  that  discourse  can  play  an  important  role  in  
maintaining  and  promoting  these  social  practices;  
 
3)  the  notion  of  sites  of  engagement:  the  idea  that  actions  take  place  at  the  nexus  
of  cultural  tools,  social  relationships  and  the  experiences,  knowledge  and  skill  of  
individual  social  actors,  and  the  way  these  three  elements  come  together  can  
help  us  to  understand  how  a  particular  social  action  will  be  performed.    
 

‘Fifty  Ways  to  Leave  Your  Lover’    

 
In  her  book  The  Breakup  2.0,  Ilana  Gershon  discusses  how  different  kinds  of  
media  affect  the  way  people  perform  the  action  of  ‘breaking  up’  with  a  romantic  
partner  and  the  way  they  come  to  regard  this  action  as  a  particular  kind  of  social  
practice.  Of  course  there  are  many  ways  this  action  could  be  performed.  One  
might  confront  the  person  with  whom  one  wishes  to  break  up  face-­‐to-­‐face  either  
in  public  or  in  a  private  place,  call  him  or  her  on  the  telephone,  or  send  what  is  
known  as  a  ‘Dear  John  Letter’.  Technology  has  introduced  a  number  of  new  
cultural  tools  with  which  to  perform  this  action:  one  could  send  an  email,  for  
example,  negotiate  the  breakup  using  instant  messaging  or  mobile  phone  based  
text  messaging,  or  one  could  post  a  message  or  change  one’s  ‘relationship  status’  
on  Facebook.    
 
Gershon  interviewed  a  large  number  of  people  about  their  ideas  about  and  
experiences  of  breaking  up  and  found  that  people  had  very  strong  feelings  about  
how  the  medium  used  can  affect  the  action  of  breaking  up.  In  particular,  they  felt  
that  people  who  used  the  ‘wrong’  medium  risked  enacting  the  ‘wrong’  kind  of  
social  identity,  that  is,  being  considered  ‘the  wrong  kind  of  person’  by  others.    
 

Activity  
 
Think  about  the  affordances  and  constraints  of  the  different  kinds  of  media  one  
might  use  to  accomplish  the  action  of  breaking  up.  For  example,  breaking  up  
face-­‐to-­‐face  makes  it  easier  for  the  person  doing  the  breaking  up  to  gauge  the  

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other  person’s  reaction  and  adapt  his  or  her  message  accordingly,  but  it  can  
make  it  more  difficult  to  end  the  conversation  (and  the  relationship)  quickly  and  
easily.  This  medium  also  makes  it  easier  for  the  person  being  ‘broken  up  with’  to  
respond  and  ask  for  reasons  and  clarification,  but  it  may  make  it  more  difficult  
for  him  or  her  to  hide  any  feelings  of  disappointment  or  sadness  that  might  arise.  
Because  of  these  affordances  and  constraints,  people  tend  to  think  some  media  
are  ‘better’  for  breaking  up  than  other  media  and  associate  different  media  for  
breaking  up  with  different  ‘kinds  of  people’.    
 
Fill  in  the  chart  below  based  on  your  own  beliefs  and  experiences  about  the  
things  different  media  make  harder  or  more  difficult  to  do  during  the  breaking  
up  process.  Then  rank  the  different  media  in  terms  of  1)  how  much  you  would  
prefer  to  use  it  if  you  are  breaking  up  with  someone,  and  2)  how  much  you  
would  prefer  it  to  be  used  if  you  are  the  one  being  broken  up  with.  Note  if  there  
is  a  difference  in  your  ranking  for  these  two  situations.  How  do  you  account  for  
this  difference?  What  does  this  tell  you  about  the  relationship  between  cultural  
tools  and  social  identities?    
 
Compare  your  answers  with  those  of  someone  else  and  discuss  if  and  why  you  
have  different  opinions  about  the  kinds  of  people  associated  with  different  media  
for  breaking  up.    
 
Table  C8.1  Cultural  tools  for  breaking  up  
 
Medium   Affordances  and  Constraints   Rank  
(1)                                        (2)  
Face-­‐to-­‐Face        
Conversation  
 
Telephone        
Conversation    
 
Letter  or  Email        
 
 
Instant        
Messaging  
Conversation  
Text  Message        
 
 
Facebook        
Relationship  
Status  
 
Of  course,  most  of  the  time  when  people  engage  in  a  complex  social  practice  like  
breaking  up  with  a  lover  they  use  a  combination  of  cultural  tools,  including  a  
combination  of  media.  They  might  begin  breaking  up  with  a  text  message,  

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continue  the  negotiation  of  the  break  up  through  an  instant  messaging  
conversation,  and  complete  the  process  in  a  face-­‐to-­‐face  meeting.    
 
Think  about  how  the  social  practice  of  breaking  up  is  constructed  in  your  social  
circle.  What  smaller  actions  are  usually  included  in  this  practice  (such  as  ‘making  
an  appointment  to  meet’,  or  ‘apologizing  for  hurting  the  other  person’s  feelings’)  
and  how  are  these  usually  combined?  What  sorts  of  cultural  tools  (such  as  
objects,  media,  genres,  social  languages,  gestures  or  facial  expressions)  are  used  
and  how  do  these  tools  affect  how  the  practice  is  accomplished?    

 
Being  ‘In  a  relationship’  on  Facebook  
 
Just  as  breaking  up  is  a  complex  social  practice,  entering  into  a  romantic  
relationship  with  someone  can  also  be  complicated.  The  people  involved  must  
negotiate  the  point  at  which  they  are  prepared  to  express  to  each  other  and  to  
other  people  that  they  know  that  they  are  ‘in  a  relationship’.  This  is  
accomplished  differently  in  different  societies.  In  North  America  when  I  was  
growing  up,  boys  usually  gave  their  girlfriends  their  school  ring  which  the  girl  
would  wear  around  her  neck  to  announce  that  she  was  ‘going  steady’  with  the  
owner  of  the  ring.    
 
The  ways  the  social  practice  of  entering  into  a  relationship  have  changed  as  a  
result  of  new  media  like  Facebook  is  also  a  topic  Gershon  takes  up  in  her  book.  
Facebook  provides  a  specific  tool  for  people  to  accomplish  the  action  of  
announcing  their  ‘relationship  status’  to  others,  allowing  them  to  indicate  on  
their  profiles  if  they  are  ‘single’,  ‘in  a  relationship’,  ‘engaged’,  ‘married’,  ‘in  a  civil  
union’,  ‘in  a  domestic  partnership’,  ‘it’s  complicated’,  ‘in  an  open  relationship’,  
‘widowed’,  ‘separated’,  or  ‘divorced’.  
 
This  tool  itself  comes  with  a  number  of  obvious  affordances  and  constraints.  
While  it  allows  users  to  indicate  that  they  are  in  certain  kinds  of  relationships,  
for  example,  it  makes  it  more  difficult  for  them  to  indicate  that  they  are  in  other  
kinds  of  relationships  that  may  not  be  covered  by  the  choices  in  the  drop  down  
menu.  It  also  makes  ambiguity  in  relationships  more  difficult  by  putting  social  
pressure  on  users  to  announce  their  status  to  others  in  their  social  network.  
Gershon  talks  about  the  negotiations  couples  go  through  about  when  to  make  
their  relationship  ‘Facebook  official’,  as  well  as  the  complications  that  arise  when  
they  end  up  breaking  up  and  having  to  decide  how  and  when  to  change  their  
relationship  status  back  to  ‘single’.    
 
The  problem  is  that  one  cannot  fully  understand  how  this  cultural  tool  has  
affected  the  practices  of  entering  into  and  maintaining  romantic  relationships  
just  by  looking  at  these  choices,  because  not  everybody  uses  them  in  the  same  
way.  Different  people  and  groups  have  different  ways  of  using  the  ‘relationship  
status’  on  Facebook.  Some  people  use  it  not  to  announce  romantic  relationships  
but  to  avoid  having  to  give  information  about  their  romantic  entanglements  by,  
for  example,  indicating  that  they  are  ‘married’  to  their  best  friend.  The  only  way  
to  understand  how  social  practices  of  relationship  management  have  changed  

  137  
because  of  Facebook  is  to  consider  the  interaction  among  the  cultural  tools  the  
website  makes  available,  the  relationships  among  the  people  in  a  particular  
social  network,  and  the  knowledge,  habits  and  norms  associated  with  the  
‘historical  bodies’  of  specific  users.    

 
Activity  
 
Consider  your  social  network  on  Facebook  or  some  other  social  networking  site  
as  a  site  of  engagement.  Think  about  how  you  and  your  friends  use  and  interpret  
the  ‘relationship  status’  function  (or  some  other  equivalent  function  on  another  
site).  Analyze  how  the  accomplishment  of  the  social  practice  of  using  this  
function  depends  on  1)  the  affordances  and  constraints  built  into  the  technology  
itself,  2)  the  actual  relationships  among  the  people  who  belong  to  your  social  
network,  especially  those  who  are  associated  with  each  other  using  this  function,  
and  3)  your  own  habits,  knowledge  and  experiences  associated  with  this  
function.  
 
  Do  more  activities  online  

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C9  ANALYZING  MULTIMODALITY  
 
In  this  section  we  will  practice  applying  some  of  the  ideas  we  introduced  in  
Sections  A9  and  B9  to  the  analysis  of  multimodality  in  a  text  and  a  face-­‐to-­‐face  
interaction.  We  will  try  to  show  how  the  analysis  of  multimodality  can  not  just  
help  us  to  understand  how  texts  and  interactions  are  structured,  by  also  how  
they  promote  certain  ideologies  and  power  relationships.  
 
Multimodal  discourse  analysis  is  a  complex  and  rapidly  developing  field,  and  it  
would  be  impossible  to  demonstrate  all  of  the  many  tools  and  concepts  analysts  
have  developed  for  the  analysis  of  things  like  images,  gestures,  gaze  and  posture.  
Instead  we  will  introduce  a  few  basic  tools  and  key  questions  that  can  guide  you  
in  this  kind  of  analysis  and  encourage  you  to  refer  to  the  sources  in  the  list  of  
Further  Readings  for  information  on  other  tools  and  procedures.    
 

‘It’s  nice  to  be  chased’  

 
This  first  example  is  an  advertisement  that  appeared  in  the  stations  of  the  Mass  
Transit  Railway  in  Hong  Kong  in  2005.  It  portrays  a  woman  with  wings  in  the  
foreground  and  two  men  in  the  background  holding  butterfly  nets.  The  setting  of  
the  picture  seems  to  be  a  wooded  area  reminiscent  of  the  setting  of  fairly  tales,  
and  this  ‘fairly  tale  feeling’  is  increased  by  the  unconventional  dress  of  the  
participants  and  the  wings  on  the  woman's  back.  Underneath  the  two  men  
appears  the  slogan:  ‘It’s  nice  to  be  chased.  Butterfly  Bra  by  Wacoal’  (figure  C9.1).    
 

 
Figure  C9.1  Wacoal  Bra  advertisement  (1)    
 
 
Ideational  Function  
 
This  picture  contains  three  participants:  one  woman  and  the  two  men,  who  are  
interacting  with  one  another  in  a  kind  of  narrative.  The  image  shows  one  
moment  in  the  story,  which  the  viewer  is  invited  to  imagine  as  part  of  a  more  

  139  
extended  (perhaps  endless)  ‘chase’.  As  a  narrative,  however,  it  is  interesting  
because  the  main  action  consists  only  of  ‘gazing’;  the  viewer  is  asked  to  infer  the  
higher-­‐level  action  of  ‘chasing’  from  the  information  in  the  slogan,  the  butterfly  
nets  and  his  or  her  own  world  knowledge.    
 
The  main  action  vectors  are  formed  by  the  gazes  of  the  two  men  toward  the  
woman  who  is  looking  away  rather  than  retuning  the  gaze  (see  figure  C9.2).  At  
first  this  seems  to  be  a  one-­‐sided  action,  as  the  woman  does  not  return  the  gaze.  
However,  the  words  help  to  give  the  impression  that  the  woman  actually  is  
aware  of  the  men's  gaze  but  is  pretending  not  to  be.  Rather  than  returning  their  
gaze,  she  is  ‘playing  hard  to  get,’  responding  to  the  gaze  by  'posing'.    
 
The  thing  that  makes  this  picture  interesting  and  problematic  is  a  second  set  of  
vectors  moving  downward  from  each  of  the  men's  shoulders  with  their  arms  
moving  towards  one  another.  This  gives  the  impression  that  they  might  be  
holding  hands,  although  their  hands  are  obscured  by  foliage.  And  so  the  status  of  
the  participants  becomes  ambiguous-­‐-­‐the  vector  from  their  eyes  moves  towards  
the  woman.  The  vector  from  their  arms  moves  towards  each  other.  Aside  from  
the  hint  of  a  homosexual  relationship,  this  ambiguity  constructs  these  figures  as  
both  cooperating  to  catch  the  woman  and  competing  with  each  other.      
 

 
Figure  C9.2  Wacoal  Bra  advertisement  (2)    
 
Interpersonal  Function  
 
None  of  the  participants  in  the  picture  looks  at  the  viewer.  The  men  look  towards  
the  woman,  and  the  woman  looks  up  into  space.  This  gives  the  viewer  the  feeling  
of  looking  at  a  private  scene.  In  other  words,  the  viewer  takes  the  position  of  a  
voyeur.  Positioning  the  reader  like  this  reinforces  the  theme  of  the  picture-­‐-­‐
'watching'.  The  men  are  secretly  watching  the  woman.  The  woman  is  secretly  
pretending  not  to  know  she  is  being  watched.  And  the  viewer  is  secretly  
watching  the  whole  scene.  Thus,  although  the  viewer  is  not  connected  to  the  
characters  through  gaze,  he  or  she  is  nevertheless  made  to  feel  somehow  part  of  
the  image  by  being  placed  into  this  voyeur-­‐like  position.    
 

  140  
The  woman  is  positioned  in  the  foreground  of  the  image,  closer  to  the  viewer,  
and,  although  she  is  not  looking  at  him  or  her,  this  creates  and  increased  feeling  
of  intimacy  and  identification  with  this  character.  The  intimacy  is  increased  
because  we  can  see  her  face  and  the  men  cannot,  and  also  because  she  is  
(presumably)  'speaking'  to  us  through  the  printed  text.    
 
Although  the  forest  vegetation  and  the  men  are  shown  in  photographic  accuracy,  
the  picture  does  not  seem  to  present  a  'true'  or  realistic  world,  but  rather  a  
dream  world.  This  impression  is  reinforced  by  the  high  color  saturation  and  the  
non-­‐realistic  elements  (such  as  the  woman's  wings).    
 
Textual  Function  
 
The  woman  is  obviously  the  most  important  character  in  the  story  as  she  is  
placed  in  the  foreground  of  the  picture  with  her  whole  body  displayed  while  the  
men  are  in  the  background  with  half  of  their  bodies  obscured.  The  woman  is  also  
placed  in  the  lower  left  quadrant  of  the  picture,  the  quadrant  of  the  ‘given’  and  
the  ‘real’,  while  the  men  occupy  the  upper  right  quadrant  of  the  picture,  where  
the  ‘new’  and  the  ‘ideal’  usually  appear.  There  are  a  number  of  possible  reasons  
for  this.  One  is  that  the  woman  in  the  picture  is  intended  to  be  portrayed  as  
passive,  earth-­‐like  and  'natural',  and  the  men  as  active,  thinking,  rational,  
intellectual.  Another  reason  might  be  that  the  woman  (and  her  bra)  are  
presented  as  a  cause  and  the  men  chasing  her  are  presented  as  a  result  of  this  
cause.  Still  another  possibly  is  that  the  intended  viewer  of  the  image  (probably  a  
woman)  is  likely  be  more  interested  in  the  men—and  if  she  ‘reads’  the  picture  in  
the  expected  way,  her  eye  moves  across  and  upward  to  towards  the  men'  in  the  
upper  part  of  the  picture.  The  irony  is  that  while  the  image  portrays  men  looking  
at  a  woman,  the  composition  of  the  image  is  such  that  the  gaze  of  the  viewer  
moves  away  from  the  woman  and  towards  the  men.    
 
Ideology    
 
This  picture  is  rich  in  imagery  from  both  science  and  literature.  The  scene  
reminds  the  viewer  of  fairly  tales  and  myths  containing  forest  nymphs.  At  the  
same  time,  there  is  the  clear  hint  of  sexual  pursuit,  reinforced  by  the  relative  lack  
of  clothing  of  all  participants.  The  innocence  of  the  ‘Discourse’  of  fairly  tales,  
then,  is  juxtaposed  with  the  'adultness'  of  the  sexual  narrative.  There  is  also  the  
‘Discourse  of  science’  present,  with  the  woman  being  portrayed  as  a  'specimen'  
for  the  men  to  catch,  admire,  examine  and  catalogue.  The  implication  is  that  she  
is  just  one  of  many  specimens  that  may  have  been  caught.  The  ad  seems  to  be  
communicating  to  young  women  that  to  be  put  in  the  position  of  the  woman  in  
this  ad  is  desirable:  to  be  watched  (secretly)  by  men,  to  be  competed  over,  to  be  
‘chased’  are  things  to  which  she  should  aspire.  At  the  same  time,  although  the  
woman  in  the  image  is  passive,  there  is  still  a  sense  that  she  is  in  some  way  in  
control  of  the  situation;  she  enjoys  being  chased,  and  catching  her  is  likely  to  be  
difficult  since  she  has  the  advantage  of  wings  which  her  pursuers  lack.  Thus,  the  
product,  the  Butterfly  Bra,  like  the  butterfly  wings,  is  constructed  as  making  a  
woman  simultaneously  more  desirable  but  less  likely  to  be  ‘caught’.    
 

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Activity  
 
Find  an  advertisement  from  a  magazine,  website,  billboard  or  some  other  
medium  which  features  one  or  more  images  and  analyze  it  in  the  same  way  we  
analyzed  the  example  above,  considering  how  the  visual  elements  (as  well  as  the  
text)  create  ideational,  interpersonal  and  textual  meaning.  Also  consider  how  
these  three  kinds  of  meaning  work  together  to  promote  a  particular  ‘version  of  
reality’  or  to  create  or  reinforce  a  certain  set  of  social  relationships.    
 

Fifteen  seconds  in  a  writing  center  

 
Now  we  will  turn  to  how  you  might  go  about  analyzing  multimodality  in  face-­‐to-­‐
face  interaction,  using  as  an  example  just  fifteen  seconds  of  interaction  in  a  
university  writing  center  where  students  go  to  get  advice  about  their  written  
assignments  from  peer  tutors.  The  fact  that  we  will  only  be  looking  at  a  very  
small  segment  attests  to  the  multimodal  richness  of  most  face-­‐to-­‐face  interaction  
-­‐-­‐  quite  a  lot  can  occur  in  just  fifteen  seconds.  At  the  same  time,  this  kind  of  
microanalysis  can  also  be  risky  if  the  analyst  looses  sight  of  the  higher-­‐level  
actions  that  the  segment  under  analysis  is  part  of.  Thus,  in  a  thorough  
multimodal  analysis  of  interaction,  the  analysts  always  alternates  his  or  her  
attention  from  the  small  details  to  the  ‘big  picture’,  always  asking  how  micro-­‐
elements  like  gaze  and  posture  shifts,  gesture  and  intonation  contours  help  
participants  to  accomplish  the  higher-­‐level  actions  they  are  engaged  in.    
 
This  example  also  demonstrates  one  way  of  producing  a  multimodal  
transcription.  The  segment  of  interaction  to  be  analyzed  is  presented  in  12  
frames  captured  from  a  digital  video  of  the  tutoring  session  (see  figure  C9.4).  The  
frames  were  not  captured  at  any  regular  time  interval.  Rather,  a  frame  was  
captured  each  time  a  new  meaningful  lower-­‐level  action  such  as  a  gaze  shift,  a  
gesture,  or  a  ‘tone  unit’  of  speech  was  produced.  As  can  be  seen  in  the  images,  in  
many  of  the  frames  multiple  meaningful  actions  were  performed  across  multiple    
modes  simultaneously.  In  the  type  of  transcription  demonstrated  here  (adapted  
from  Norris  2005),  things  like  head  movements,  the  trajectory  of  gestures  and  
the  direction  of  gaze  are  marked  with  arrows,  and  the  speech  of  participants  is  
represented  in  text  of  varying  sizes  above  their  heads,  the  size  and  direction  of  
the  letters  representing  stress  and  intonation.    
 
The  analysis  we  will  demonstrate  here  will  focus  on  intermodal  relationships,  
how  actions  taken  with  different  modes  of  communication  work  together  and  
affect  one  another.  It  will  make  use  of  two  basic  concepts:  sequentiality  -­‐-­‐  the  idea  
that  lower-­‐level  actions  are  arranged  in  meaningful  sequences  to  form  higher-­‐
level  actions  -­‐-­‐  and  simultaneity  –  the  idea  that  when  actions  are  produced  at  the  
same  time,  they  can  affect  how  each  other  should  be  interpreted.  Related  to  these  
two  concepts  is  the  notion  that  all  actions  are  mutually  negotiated  between  
participants  in  interaction.  The  actions  that  one  person  performs  are  always  in  
some  ways  influenced  or  constrained  by  the  actions  that  the  other  person  
performs.    
 

  142  
As  mentioned  above,  one  aim  of  such  an  analysis  is  to  identify  the  lower-­‐level  
actions  and  understand  how  they  combine  together  to  form  higher-­‐level  actions.  
The  ultimate  aim,  however,  is  to  use  such  an  analysis  to  understand  how  people  
use  the  many  resources  that  are  available  to  them  to  perform  social  practices  and  
enact  social  identities  in  ways  that  promote  and  reinforce  particular  ‘Discourses’  
or  social  relationships.      
 

a. (1 sec) b. (2 sec) c. (3 sec)

d. (5 sec) e. (6 sec) f. (7 sec)

g. (8 sec) h. (9 sec) i. (10 sec)

j. (13 sec) k. (14 sec) l. (15 sec)

 
Figure  C9.3  An  interaction  in  a  writing  center  
 
The  two  participants  in  this  segment  are  the  tutor  (the  woman  seated  on  the  
right,  and  the  client  (the  man  seated  on  the  left).  The  session  begins  with  the  
tutor  saying,  ‘so…ummm,’  and  making  two  small  beat  gestures  with  her  pen  
towards  the  client’s  essay  lying  on  the  table  in  time  with  the  two  syllables  (frame  
a).  Beat  gestures  are  perhaps  the  most  common  kinds  of  gestures.  We  use  them  
to  keep  time  in  interactions,  often  tracking  the  rhythm  of  our  speech,  and  they  
are  important  in  helping  participants  synchronize  things  like  turn  taking.  They  

  143  
can  also  function  to  signal  that  a  new  higher-­‐level  action  or  a  new  ‘frame’  is  being  
taken  up,  much  like  discourse  markers  (see  Section  B6).  In  this  case  the  two  beats  
along  with  the  utterance  signal  that  a  new  part  of  the  tutoring  session  is  about  to  
start.    
 
In  frames  b  though  f  the  tutor  asks,  ‘is  there  anything  in  particular  you  think  you  
want  some  more  help  with?’  This  utterance  is  accompanied  by  a  complex  
combination  of  actions  that  contribute  to  constructing  the  meaning  of  the  
utterance  and  the  relationship  between  the  participants.  As  she  says  the  words,  
‘anything  particular’,  the  tutor  points  to  the  client’s  essay  and  inscribes  a  circle  in  
the  air  with  her  pen.  This  is  followed  by  a  downward  motion  on  the  stressed  
syllable  ‘TIC’.  Gestures  like  this,  which  involve  pointing,  are  known  as  deictic  
gestures.    The  tutor  follows  this  deictic  gesture  towards  the  essay  with  another  
one,  pointing  her  pen  towards  the  client  when  she  says,  ‘YOU  think.’  Right  after  
she  utters  the  word  ‘think’,  the  client  leans  slightly  forward  and  raises  his  hand  
to  his  chin,  forming  the  iconic  gesture5  of  a  person  deep  in  thought.  This  is  a  good  
an  example  of  the  way  listeners  use  modes  like  gesture  to  contribute  to  
conversations  even  when  they  do  not  have  access  to  the  resource  of  speech.    
 
As  the  tutor  says,  ‘you  want  some  more  help  with,’  she  gazes  at  the  client,  
signaling  that  she  is  preparing  to  end  her  turn.  Gaze  is  an  important  resource  for  
the  managing  of  turn-­‐taking  in  conversation,  with  speakers  often  looking  away  
when  they  are  speaking  and  then  turning  their  gaze  back  to  their  interlocutor  
when  they  are  finished.  When  the  tutor  finishes  her  question,  she  leans  back  
slightly  and  brushes  the  hair  from  her  face,  almost  as  if  she  is  clearing  
interactional  space  for  the  client’s  response  as  he  issues  a  hesitant  ‘ummmmm’.    
 
As  she  is  waiting  for  his  response,  the  tutor  tilts  her  head  downward  and  directs  
her  gaze  towards  the  essay,  as  if  signaling  that  it  is  there  that  the  client  might  
find  the  answer  to  her  questions  (frame  i).  This  is  also  a  kind  of  deictic  gesture,  
but  she  is  using  her  head  to  point  rather  than  her  hand.  The  client  answers  this  
downward  motion  with  an  upward  motion  of  his  arm  to  touch  his  glasses,  
another  iconic  gesture  signaling  that  he  is  ‘searching’  for  something  he  would  
like  help  with.  Then  the  client  lowers  his  hand  and  asks,  ‘do  you  know  the  
meaning  of  this  paragraph?’,  inscribing  exactly  the  same  kind  of  circle  above  his  
essay  that  the  tutor  had  just  moments  before  (frame  k).    
 
The  modes  of  gaze,  head  movement,  posture,  gesture,  and  prosody  in  this  short  
segment  do  not  just  help  participants  to  frame  their  utterances  and  organize  the  
interaction.  These  modes  also  work  together  to  construct  the  higher-­‐level  action  
of  ‘having  a  tutorial’  and  to  construct  the  relationship  between  the  two  
participants  as  one  of  unequal  power.  The  tutor  demonstrates  her  power  over  
the  client  in  a  number  of  small  ways:  though  gaze  (she  gazes  at  him  much  more  
than  he  does  at  her),  though  her  posture  (she  sits  higher  and  straighter  than  he  
                                                                                                               
5  Iconic  gestures  can  be  distinguished  from  other  kinds  of  gestures  for  conveying  ideas  such  as  
metaphoric  gestures.  Whereas  iconic  gestures  represent  concepts  or  actions  in  a  way  that  forms  a  
rather  direct  physical  imitation  of  them,  metaphoric  gestures  represent  concepts  and  actions  in  
more  abstract,  metaphorical  ways.    

  144  
does),  and  though  gestures  (she  frequently  points  at  him  and  at  his  essay  with  
her  pen  and  her  head).  Furthermore,  all  of  the  client’s  gestures  (the  ‘thinking’  
gesture,  the  ‘searching’  gesture,  and  the  imitation  of  the  tutor’s  deictic  circle)  
seem  to  be  in  response  to  the  tutor’s  words  or  gestures,  as  if  she  is  controlling  
him  like  a  puppet.  Another  important  mode  the  tutor  uses  to  maintain  control  of  
the  interaction,  which  we  have  not  mentioned,  is  object  handling.  Not  only  does  
she  hold  a  pen  throughout  the  interaction  (while  the  client  is  empty  handed),  but  
she  also  keeps  her  left  hand  placed  on  the  edge  of  the  client’s  essay  during  this  
entire  segment  as  if  she  is  prepared  to  take  it  away  from  him  at  any  moment.    
 

Activity  
 
Videotape  a  short  interaction  and  divide  a  segment  of  the  video  into  frames  using  
an  easy  to  use  computer  program  like  iMovie  (Mac)  or  Windows  Movie  Maker.  
Analyze  how  participants  use  the  modes  of  gesture,  gaze,  posture,  head  
movement,  and  prosody  along  with  the  mode  of  spoken  language  to  create  
meaning  and  manage  the  interaction.  Pay  attention  to  how  lower-­‐level  actions  
are  sequenced  to  form  higher-­‐level  actions  and  how  actions  performed  
simultaneously  affect  one  another’s  meaning.    
 
  Do  more  activities  online  

  145  
C10  ANALYZING  CORPORA  
 
 In  order  to  illustrate  the  procedures  for  corpus  assisted  discourse  analysis  
explained  in  Section  B10,  in  this  section  I  will  examine  a  corpus  of  song  lyrics  by  
Lady  Gaga,  compare  it  to  a  more  general  corpus  of  pop  music,  and  discuss  how  
things  like  concordances  and  frequency  lists  can  be  used  to  generate  theories  
about  texts  in  a  corpus.  Working  though  these  procedures  with  a  specific  corpus  
will  also  give  me  a  chance  to  discuss  some  of  the  practical  aspects  of  creating  and  
working  with  corpora.  I  recommend  that  you  download  AntConc  or  some  other  
software  program  for  corpus  analysis  before  reading  this  chapter,  and  as  you  
read  along  try  out  some  of  the  procedures  with  a  corpus  of  your  own,  perhaps  a  
corpus  of  song  lyrics  from  your  own  favorite  singer.    
 
My  corpus  consists  of  the  lyrics  of  59  songs  released  by  Lady  Gaga  as  of  
November,  2010.  Song  lyrics  are  a  good  example  of  a  type  of  text  which  might  
have  to  be  ‘cleaned’  or  otherwise  altered  before  being  suitable  for  inclusion  in  a  
corpus.  For  example,  such  texts  often  include  things  like  labels  indicating  ‘chorus’  
or  ‘verse’,  which  are  not  relevant  to  the  analysis  and  should  be  removed.6  
Sometimes  repeated  words  or  phrases  are  written  in  a  kind  of  shorthand  (e.g.  I  
love  you  x  3).  These  need  to  be  written  out  fully  so  that  the  texts  reflect  exactly  
what  is  sung.  For  my  corpus,  song  titles  and  labels  like  chorus  and  verse  were  
deleted.  Each  song  was  saved  in  a  separate  text  file  and  loaded  into  AntConc.    
 
For  my  reference  corpus  I  decided  to  choose  a  more  general  sampling  of  pop  
music  from  the  same  period.  Thus,  I  compiled  a  corpus  of  the  Billboard  top  100  
pop  songs  from  November  2010.  What  this  means,  of  course,  is  that  my  reference  
corpus  is  almost  twice  the  size  of  my  primary  corpus.  This  is,  in  fact,  normal,  
since  a  reference  corpus  generally  contains  a  broader  sampling  of  texts.  These  
texts  were  prepared  in  the  same  manner  as  the  texts  for  the  Lady  Gaga  corpus.  
 
Table  C10.1  Size  of  corpora  and  type  token  ratio  
 
  No.  of  Texts   No.  of  Tokens   No.  of  Types   Type  Token  
Ratio  
Lady  Gaga   59   11.44   19601   1713  
Songs  
Top  100  Hits   100   33412   3680   9.07  
(11/11)  
 
Table  C10.1  shows  the  number  of  texts  as  well  as  the  number  of  tokens  and  types  
in  each  corpus.  It  also  shows  the  type  token  ratio  for  each  corpus.  Note  that  the  
type  token  ration  for  both  of  these  corpora  is  rather  low  compared  to  the  BNC  
written  (45.53)  and  spoken  (32.96)  corpora.  This  is  not  surprising.  Pop  music  
                                                                                                               
6  A  more  advanced  practitioner,  especially  one  interested  in  genre  analysis,  might  remove  these  
labels  but  also  ‘tag’  the  different  parts  of  songs  using  XML  language  so  that  analysis  could  be  done  
just  on  the  choruses  or  just  on  the  verses  of  songs.    

  146  
generally  involves  quite  a  lot  of  repetition  and  a  fairly  narrow  range  of  topics.  As  
can  be  seen  from  the  chart,  the  type  token  ratio  for  the  Lady  Gaga  corpus  is  
slightly  higher  than  the  reference  corpus,  suggesting  that  Lady  Gaga’s  lyrics  
might  exhibit  more  lexical  complexity  than  other  pop  music  produced  around  the  
same  time.    
 
Table  C10.2  Top  five  function  words  
 
100  Top  Songs   Lady  Gaga  Songs  
Word   Rank   Freq.   %  of   Word   Rank   Freq.   %  of  
Tokens   Tokens  
I   1   1709   5.11   I   1   866   4.41  
you   2   1167   3.49   you   2   718   3.66  
the   3   870   2.6   the   3   463   2.36  
and   4   687   2.05   oh   4   433   2.2  
it   5   629   1.88   me   5   398   2.03  
 
Table  C10.2  shows  the  frequency  of  the  most  frequently  occurring  function  words  
in  the  two  corpora  along  with  their  overall  ranking,  their  numerical  frequency  
and  the  percentage  of  the  total  tokens  they  represent.  Note  that  the  percentage  
of  total  tokens  is  important  when  you  are  comparing  corpora  of  different  sizes.  
Some  programs  will  calculate  this  for  you,  but  with  AntConc  users  must  do  this  
themselves.    
 
The  fact  that  the  most  frequent  words  in  both  of  these  corpora  are  ‘I’  and  ‘you’  is  
consistent  with  other  corpus  based  studies  of  popular  music.  Murphey  (1992)  
found  a  similar  degree  of  frequency  for  these  pronouns  in  a  corpus  of  English  
pop  songs  from  the  late  80s.  This,  of  course,  makes  sense  given  that  pop  songs  
usually  involve  a  singer  (or  singer  persona)  singing  to  another  person,  usually  a  
lover.    
 
What  is  interesting  in  our  findings  is  the  relative  frequency  of  the  accusative  
form  ‘me’  in  the  Lady  Gaga  corpus.  In  fact,  the  pronoun  ‘me’  occurs  almost  twice  
as  frequently  in  the  Lady  Gaga  corpus  (2.03%  of  the  total  tokens)  than  it  does  in  
the  reference  corpus  (1.3%  of  the  total  tokens).  This  suggests  that  the  singer  
persona  in  Lady  Gaga’s  songs  portrays  herself  more  frequently  in  the  ‘object’  
position,  the  position  of  having  things  done  to  or  for  her,  than  singers  in  other  
songs.    
 
Table  C10.3  Top  five  content  words  
 
100  Top  Songs   Lady  Gaga  Songs  
Word   Rank   Freq.   %  of   Word   Rank   Freq.   %  of  
Tokens   Tokens  
like   23   234   .70   love   17   193   .98  
baby   34   166   .49   baby   21   158   .80  
know   36   155   .46   want   29   109   .56  
love   39   143   .43   know     36   91   .46  
gonna   42   127   .38   no   37   91   .46  

  147  
  
Table  C10.3  shows  the  five  most  frequent  content  words  in  the  two  corpora.  As  
you  can  see,  content  words  occur  much  less  frequently  than  function  words.  
Again,  the  words  listed  are  words  normally  associated  with  pop  music  like  ‘love’  
and  ‘baby’.  One  interesting  finding  is  the  grater  frequency  of  the  word  ‘love’  in  
the  corpus  of  Lady  Gaga  lyrics  compared  to  the  reference  corpora.  This  might  
lead  one  to  think  that  love  is  a  greater  preoccupation  of  Lady  Gaga  than  it  is  of  
other  popular  singers.  But  the  truth,  of  course,  is  more  complicated  than  that  
and,  as  we  will  see  below,  has  much  to  do  with  the  way  the  notion  of  ‘love’  is  
discursively  constructed  in  Lady  Gaga’s  music.    
 
Word  frequency  lists  can  often  suggest  suitable  candidates  for  concordance  
searches  and  collocation  analysis.  In  this  case,  I  have  decided  to  do  a  
concordance  of  the  word  ‘me’,  due  to  its  relative  frequency  in  the  Lady  Gaga  
corpus  as  compared  to  the  reference  corpus.  Figures  C10.1  and  C10.2  show  
sections  of  that  search,  which  revealed  a  number  of  different  kinds  of  words  
congregating  around  the  word  ‘me’.  One  of  the  most  common,  of  course,  was  
‘love’.  Another  common  collocate  was  ‘look’  or  ‘looked’,  with  the  singer  persona  
frequently  talking  about  being  looked  at  or  not  being  looked  at.  Other  common  
phrases  included  ‘touch  me’,  ‘kiss  me’,  ‘feel  me’,  and  ‘tell  me’.  
 
This  initial  analysis  suggests  some  very  interesting  differences  between  the  
construction  of  ‘love’  in  the  Lady  Gaga  corpus  and  that  in  the  reference  corpus:  In  
the  Lady  Gaga  corpus  ‘love’  and  its  associated  processes  of  looking,  touching  and  
kissing  are  often  portrayed  as  directed  toward  the  singer.  That  is,  the  singer  is  
portrayed  primarily  as  the  object  of  other  people’s  love.    
 
 

 
Figure  C10.1  Partial  concordance  list  for  ‘me’  
 

  148  
  
Figure  C10.2  Partial  concordance  list  for  ‘me’  
 
A  collocation  analysis  of  the  word  ‘love’  also  reveals  differences  between  the  
Lady  Gaga  corpus  and  the  reference  corpus.  Table  C10.4  shows  the  five  top  
collocates  of  the  word  love  in  a  span  ranging  from  five  words  to  the  left  of  love  
and  five  words  to  the  right  
 
Table  C10.4  Top  5  collocates  of  ‘love’  (span  5L,  5R)  
 
Lady  Gaga  Corpus   100  Song  Corpus  
I   I    
you   you  
want   my  
your   the  
me   me  
 
While  ‘I  and  ‘you’  collocate  frequently  with  the  word  ‘love’  in  both  corpora,  the  
words  “want’  and  ‘your’  appear  as  the  third  and  forth  most  frequent  collocates  in  
the  Lady  Gaga  corpus  as  opposed  to  ‘my’  and  ‘the’,  which  take  these  places  in  the  
reference  corpus,  again  suggesting  a  greater  preoccupation  on  the  part  of  the  
singer  in  the  Lady  Gaga  corpus  than  in  the  reference  corpus  with  receiving  love  
from  the  listener.    
 
One  final  procedure  I  would  like  to  demonstrate  is  the  keyword  list,  which,  as  you  
will  recall  from  Section  B10  is  generated  by  calculating  the  statistical  probability  
of  words  occurring  in  a  corpus  with  reference  to  a  larger,  more  general  corpus.  
Keywords,  in  other  words,  are  words  that  are  in  some  ways  ‘special’,  in  that  they  
occur  with  a  greater  frequency  than  they  would  in  ‘normal’  circumstances.    
 
Figure  C10.3  shows  the  22  words  with  the  highest  measure  of  ‘keyness’  in  the  
Lady  Gage  corpus.  Some  of  these  words  appear  simply  because  they  are  unique  
to  this  collection  of  songs  and  are  unlikely  to  occur  in  other  songs  –words  like  

  149  
‘Alejandro’  (a  man’s  name  and  the  title  of  one  of  Lady  Gaga’s  songs),  and  ‘fu’  
which  occurs  in  the  lyrics:  ‘I  want  your  fu-­‐fu-­‐fu-­‐fu  future  love.’    
 
Other  words,  however,  while  they  might  be  common  in  pop  songs,  are  words  
that  point  to  topics  that  are  particularly  salient  in  the  music  of  Lady  Gaga,  words  
like  ‘disco’,  ‘fame’  and  ‘romance’.  One  particularly  interesting  finding  is  the  high  
keyness  of  negative  words  like    ‘dirty’  and  ‘bad’.  It  is  also  interesting  that  the  two  
words  with  the  highest  degree  of  ‘keyness’  in  the  corpus  are  the  ‘sound  words’  
‘oh’  and  ‘eh’,  reflecting  the  frequently  occurring  streams  of  nonsense  syllables  
that  characterize  Lady  Gaga’s  lyrics.      
 
 

 
 
Figure  C10.3  Keywords  in  the  Lady  Gaga  corpus  
 
 
    Find  additional  examples  online  
 

Activity  
 
a.  Use  the  analysis  described  above  as  the  starting  point  for  a  closer  examination  
of  Lady  Gaga’s  song  lyrics  (available  at  http://www.ladygaga.com),  using  some  of  
the  principles  of  text  analysis  discussed  in  section  B4.  You  might,  for  example,  
focus  on  things  like  transitivity,  modality,  and  intertextuality).  Does  your  close  
reading  of  the  text  confirm  and  build  upon  any  of  the  findings  of  the  corpus  
analysis?    
b.  Compile  your  own  corpus  of  pop  songs  from  another  singer  and  conduct  a  
similar  analysis,  comparing  this  singer’s  discourse  with  that  of  Lady  Gaga.    
 
  Do  more  activities  online  

  150  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

SECTION  D:  
 
EXTENSION:  READINGS  IN  
DISCOURSE  ANALYSIS  

  151  
D1  THE  THREE  PERSPECTIVES  REVISITED  
 
In  this  Section  you  will  read  three  excerpts  from  important  figures  in  the  field  of  
discourse  analysis,  each  illustrating  one  of  the  three  perspectives  on  discourse  
that  we  discussed  in  Section  B1.  The  first  is  from  the  famous  1952  essay  by  the  
linguist  Zellig  Harris  in  which  he  coined  the  term  ‘discourse  analysis’.  In  it  he  
outlines  the  limitations  of  traditional  approaches  to  language  and  explains  why  
we  need  a  method  to  examine  language  beyond  the  level  of  the  clause.    
 
The  second  is  an  excerpt  from  the  PhD.  dissertation  of  H.  G.  Widdowson  in  which  
he  questions  some  of  the  assumptions  made  by  Harris  and  argues  that  the  
analysis  of  discourse  must  go  beyond  just  looking  at  how  texts  are  put  together  
to  exploring  how  people  use  language  to  perform  social  actions.  In  making  this  
argument  he  acknowledges  his  debt  to  the  American  sociolinguist  William  Labov,  
who  advanced  the  idea  that  ‘the  object  of  linguistics  must  ultimately  be  the  
instrument  of  communication  used  by  the  speech  community,  and  if  we  are  not  
talking  about  that  language  there  is  something  trivial  in  our  proceedings’  
(1972:187).    
 
The  last  excerpt  comes  from  the  American  discourse  analyst  and  educationalist  
James  Paul  Gee.  In  this  excerpt  he  defines  discourse  in  an  even  broader  way  as  
the  way  we  build  social  identities  and  social  activities  by  combining  language  
with  ‘other  stuff’.    
 
As  you  read  these  three  excerpts,  try  to  consider  how  these  different  scholars  are  
responding  to  or  building  upon  what  the  others  have  said.  Think  about  how  their  
respective  approaches  to  discourse  differ  from  one  another  and  also  ways  in  
which  they  might  be  reconciled.    
 

A.    
Discourse  analysis  
Zellig  Harris  (reprinted  from  Language  28(1)  (1952):  1-­‐30)  
 

The  problem  
 
One  can  approach  discourse  analysis  from  two  types  of  problem,  which  turn  out  
to  be  related.  The  first  is  the  problem  of  continuing  descriptive  linguistics  
beyond  the  limits  of  a  single  sentence  at  a  time.  The  other  is  the  question  of  
correlating  ‘culture’  and  language  (i.e.  non-­‐linguistic  and  linguistic  behavior).    
The  first  problem  arises  because  descriptive  linguistics  generally  stops  at  
sentence  boundaries.  This  is  not  due  to  any  prior  decision.  The  techniques  of  
linguistics  were  constructed  to  study  any  stretch  of  speech,  of  whatever  length.  
But  in  every  language  it  turns  out  that  almost  all  the  results  lie  within  a  relatively  
short  stretch,  which  we  may  call  a  sentence.  That  is,  when  we  can  state  a  

  152  
restriction  on  the  occurrence  of  element  A  in  respect  to  the  occurrence  of  
element  B,  it  will  almost  always  be  the  case  that  A  and  B  are  regarded  as  
occurring  within  the  same  sentence.  Of  English  adjectives,  for  instance,  we  can  
say  that  they  occur  before  a  noun  or  after  certain  verbs  (in  the  same  sentence):  
the  dark  clouds,  the  future  seems  bright;  only  rarely  can  we  state  restrictions  
across  sentence  boundaries,  e.g.  that  if  the  main  verb  of  one  sentence  has  a  given  
tense-­‐suffix,  the  main  verb  of  the  next  sentence  will  have  a  particular  other  
tense-­‐suffix.  We  cannot  say  that  if  one  sentence  has  the  form  NV,  the  next  
sentence  will  have  the  form  N.  We  can  only  say  that  most  sentences  are  NV,  some  
are  N,  and  so  on;  and  that  these  structures  occur  in  various  sequences.  
 
In  this  way  descriptive  linguistics,  which  sets  out  to  describe  the  occurrence  of  
elements  in  any  stretch  of  speech,  ends  up  by  describing  it  primarily  in  respect  to  
other  elements  of  the  same  sentence.  This  limitation  has  not  seemed  too  serious,  
because  it  has  not  precluded  the  writing  of  adequate  grammars:  the  grammar  
states  the  sentence  structure;  the  speaker  makes  up  a  particular  sentence  in  
keeping  with  this  structure,  and  supplies  the  particular  sequence  of  sentences.    
The  other  problem,  that  of  the  connection  between  behavior  (or  social  situation)  
and  language,  has  always  been  considered  beyond  the  scope  of  linguistics  
proper.  Descriptive  linguistics  has  not  dealt  with  the  meanings  of  morphemes;  
and  though  one  might  try  to  get  around  that  by  speaking  not  of  meanings,  but  of  
the  social  and  interpersonal  situation  in  which  speech  occurs,  descriptive  
linguistics  has  had  no  equipment  for  taking  the  social  situation  into  account:  it  
has  only  been  able  to  state  the  occurrence  of  one  linguistic  element  in  respect  to  
the  occurrence  of  others.  Culture-­‐and-­‐language  studies  have  therefore  been  
carried  on  without  benefit  of  the  recent  distributional  investigations  of  
linguistics.  For  example,  they  list  the  meanings  expressed  in  the  language  by  
surveying  the  vocabulary  stock;  or  they  draw  conclusions  from  the  fact  that  in  a  
particular  language  a  particular  set  of  meanings  is  expressed  by  the  same  
morpheme;  or  they  discuss  the  nuances  of  meaning  and  usage  of  one  word  in  
comparison  with  others  (e.g.  in  stylistics).  Culture-­‐and-­‐language  studies  have  
also  noted  such  points  as  that  phrases  are  to  be  taken  in  their  total  meaning  
rather  than  as  the  sum  of  the  meanings  of  their  component  morphemes,  e.g.  that  
‘How  are  you?’  is  a  greeting  rather  than  a  question  about  health-­‐an  example  that  
illustrates  the  correlation  of  speech  with  social  situation.  Similarly,  personality  
characteristics  in  speech  have  been  studied  by  correlating  an  individual's  
recurrent  speech  features  with  recurrent  features  of  his  behavior  and  feeling.  
 

Distribution  within  discourse  

 
Distributional  or  combinatorial  analysis  within  one  discourse  at  a  time  turns  out  
to  be  relevant  to  both  of  these  problems.  On  the  one  hand,  it  carries  us  past  the  
sentence  limitation  of  descriptive  linguistics.  Although  we  cannot  state  the  
distribution  of  sentences  (or,  in  general,  any  inter-­‐sentence  relation)  when  we  
are  given  an  arbitrary  conglomeration  of  sentences  in  a  language,  we  can  get  
quite  definite  results  about  certain  relations  across  sentence  boundaries  when  
we  consider  just  the  sentences  of  a  particular  connected  discourse-­‐that  is,  the  
sentences  spoken  or  written  in  succession  by  one  or  more  persons  in  a  single  

  153  
situation.  This  restriction  to  connected  discourse  does  not  detract  from  the  
usefulness  of  the  analysis,  since  all  language  occurrences  are  internally  
connected.  Language  does  not  occur  in  stray  words  or  sentences,  but  in  
connected  discourse-­‐from  a  one-­‐word  utterance  to  a  ten  volume  work,  from  a  
monolog  to  a  Union  Square  argument.  Arbitrary  conglomerations  of  sentences  
are  indeed  of  no  interest  except  as  a  check  on  grammatical  description;  and  it  is  
not  surprising  that  we  cannot  find  interdependence  among  the  sentences  of  such  
an  aggregate.  The  successive  sentences  of  a  connected  discourse,  however,  offer  
fertile  soil  for  the  methods  of  descriptive  linguistics,  since  these  methods  study  
the  relative  distribution  of  elements  within  a  connected  stretch  of  speech.  
 
On  the  other  hand,  distributional  analysis  within  one  discourse  at  a  time  yields  
information  about  certain  correlations  of  language  with  other  behavior.  The  
reason  is  that  each  connected  discourse  occurs  within  a  particular  situation,  
whether  of  a  person  speaking,  or  of  a  conversation,  or  of  someone  sitting  down  
occasionally  over  a  period  of  months  to  write  a  particular  kind  of  book  in  a  
particular  literary  or  scientific  tradition.  To  be  sure,  this  concurrence  between  
situation  and  discourse  does  not  mean  that  discourses  occurring  in  similar  
situations  must  necessarily  have  certain  formal  characteristics  in  common,  while  
discourses  occurring  in  different  situations  must  have  certain  formal  differences.  
The  concurrence  between  situation  and  discourse  only  makes  it  understandable,  
or  possible,  that  such  formal  correlations  should  exist.  It  remains  to  be  shown  as  
a  matter  of  empirical  fact  that  such  formal  correlations  do  indeed  exist,  that  the  
discourses  of  a  particular  person,  social  group,  style,  or  subject-­‐matter  exhibit  
not  only  particular  meanings  (in  their  selection  of  morphemes)  but  also  
characteristic  formal  features.  The  particular  selection  of  morphemes  cannot  be  
considered  here.  But  the  formal  features  of  the  discourses  can  be  studied  by  
distributional  methods  within  the  text;  and  the  fact  of  their  correlation  with  a  
particular  type  of  situation  gives  a  meaning-­‐status  to  the  occurrence  of  these  
formal  features.  
 

The  nature  of  the  method  

 
We  have  raised  two  problems:  that  of  the  distributional  relations  among  
sentences,  and  that  of  the  correlation  between  language  and  social  situation.  We  
have  proposed  that  information  relevant  to  both  of  these  problems  can  be  
obtained  by  a  formal  analysis  of  one  stretch  of  discourse  at  a  time.  What  KIND  of  
analysis  would  be  applicable  here?  To  decide  this,  we  consider  what  is  permitted  
by  the  material.  
 
Since  the  material  is  simply  a  string  of  linguistic  forms  arranged  in  successive  
sentences,  any  formal  analysis  is  limited  to  locating  linguistic  elements  within  
these  sentences-­‐that  is,  to  stating  the  occurrence  of  elements.  We  cannot  set  up  
any  method  for  investigating  the  nature  or  composition  of  these  elements,  or  
their  correlations  with  non-­‐linguistic  features,  unless  we  bring  in  new  
information  from  outside.  
 

  154  
Furthermore,  there  are  no  particular  elements,  say  but  or  I  or  communism,  
which  have  a  prior  importance,  such  as  would  cause  us  to  be  interested  in  the  
mere  fact  of  their  presence  or  absence  in  our  text.  Any  analysis  which  aimed  to  
find  out  whether  certain  particular  words,  selected  by  the  investigator,  occur  in  
the  text  or  not,  would  be  an  investigation  of  the  CONTENT  of  the  text  and  would  
be  ultimately  based  on  the  MEANINGS  of  the  words  selected.  If  we  do  not  depend  
upon  meaning  in  our  investigation,  then  the  only  morphemes  or  classes  which  
we  can  deal  with  separately  are  those  which  have  grammatically  stated  
peculiarities  of  distribution.  
 
Since,  then,  we  are  not  in  general  interested  in  any  particular  element  selected  in  
advance,  our  interest  in  those  elements  that  do  occur  cannot  be  merely  in  the  
tautologic  statement  THAT  they  occur,  but  in  the  empirical  statement  of  HOW  
they  occur:  which  ones  occur  next  to  which  others,  or  in  the  same  environment  
as  which  others,  and  so  on-­‐that  is,  in  the  relative  occurrence  of  these  elements  
with  respect  to  each  other.  In  this  sense,  our  method  is  comparable  to  that  which  
is  used,  in  the  case  of  a  whole  language,  in  compiling  a  grammar  (which  states  
the  distributional  relations  among  elements),  rather  than  in  compiling  a  
dictionary  (which  lists  all  the  elements  that  are  found  in  the  language,  no  matter  
where).  
 
Finally,  since  our  material  is  a  closed  string  of  sentences,  our  statement  about  the  
distribution  of  each  element  can  only  be  valid  within  the  limits  of  this  succession  
of  sentences,  whether  it  be  a  paragraph  or  a  book.  We  will  see,  we  can  sometimes  
use  information  about  the  distribution  of  an  element  outside  our  material;  but  
this  can  be  only  an  external  aid,  brought  in  after  the  distribution  of  the  element  
within  the  discourse  has  been  completely  stated.  
 

Issues  to  consider    

 
 For  Harris,  one  of  the  aims  of  discourse  analysis  is  to  describe  texts  in  
the  same  way  linguists  describe  sentences,  by  explaining  the  
occurrences  of  elements  in  relation  to  the  occurrence  of  other  
elements.  What  might  be  the  advantages  of  trying  to  discover  the  
‘rules’  that  govern  the  ways  texts  are  put  together  in  the  same  way  we  
can  talk  about  the  ‘rules’  that  govern  the  way  sentences  are  put  
together?  What  could  such  knowledge  be  used  for?  Do  you  think  the  
logic  that  governs  the  way  we  look  at  sentence  level  grammar  can  be  
extended  to  longer  stretches  of  text  or  conversation?    
 
 Harris  suggests  that  by  studying  the  formal  distribution  of  elements  in  
texts  used  in  different  social  situations  we  will  be  able  to  discover  
correlations  between  certain  kinds  of  structures  and  certain  kinds  of  
social  behavior.  Can  you  think  of  some  examples  of  text  structures  that  
nearly  always  occur  in  connections  with  certain  kinds  of  social  
practices?  What  are  some  of  the  limitations  of  this  approach?    

  155  
  
B.    
An  applied  linguistic  approach  to  discourse  analysis  
Henry  G.  Widdowson  (reprinted  from  his  unpublished  doctoral  dissertation  1973)    
 
(Harris’s)  aim  is  simply  to  establish  formal  patterns  without  reference  to  
meaning.  But  Harris  nevertheless  believes  that  his  analysis  has  some  bearing  on  
how  discourse  is  understood  as  communication.  At  first  sight  it  would  appear  
that  his  aim  is  to  contribute  to  studies  of  contextualized  language  in  both  of  the  
senses  distinguished  at  the  beginning  of  this  chapter.  In  a  prolegomenon  to  his  
actual  analysis  he  makes  the  comment:  
 
One  can  approach  discourse  analysis  from  two  types  of  problem,  which  
turn  out  to  be  related.  The  first  is  the  problem  of  continuing  descriptive  
linguistics  beyond  the  limits  of  a  single  sentence  at  a  time.  The  other  is  the  
question  of  correlating  “culture”  and  language  (i.e.  nonlinguistic  and  
linguistic  behavior).  (Harris  1952/1964:  356)  
 
It  turns  out,  however,  that  what  Harris  has  in  mind  in  the  second  of  these  
problems  is  something  very  like  the  Hallidaian  notion  of  register.  He  appears  to  
believe  that  the  kind  of  distributional  analysis  of  morpheme  sequences  that  he  
proposes  will  provide  a  basis  for  correlating  the  formal  properties  of  different  
pieces  of  language  with  the  social  situations  in  which  they  occur.  
 
*  
 
Since  Harris  has  taken  a  considerable  number  of  steps  in  the  description  of  
discourse,  the  question  naturally  arises  as  to  how  he  has  managed  to  do  this  
without  considering  speech  events  and  social  contexts  at  all,  even  though,  as  we  
have  seen,  he  acknowledges  that  his  description  should  bear  upon  the  problem  
of  how  language  is  understood  in  social  situations.  
 
The  answer  to  this  question  is,  of  course,  that  whereas  Harris  conceives  of  
discourse  as  contextualized  language  data  in  one  of  the  senses  we  have  
distinguished,  Labov  thinks  of  it  as  contextualized  language  data  in  the  other  
sense.  Harris  looks  for  patterns  of  linguistic  elements  which  link  sentences  
together  into  a  larger  formal  structure,  and  Labov  looks  at  the  way  linguistic  
elements  are  used  to  perform  communicative  acts,  and  this  kind  of  enquiry  takes  
him  outside  the  actual  linguistic  properties  of  the  text  not,  as  with  Harris,  to  the  
linguistic  properties  of  the  code  but  to  the  extra-­‐linguistic  factors  of  the  social  
situation.  Labov’s  emphasis,  therefore,  is  on  the  performance  of  social  actions  
rather  than  on  the  incidence  of  linguistic  forms  
 
*  
 
It  seems  clear,  then,  that  we  are  confronted  here  with  two  quite  different  kinds  of  
enquiry  both  contending  for  the  same  name.  A  terminological  distinction  seems  

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to  be  called  for.  The  kind  of  investigation  carried  out  by  Harris  into  the  formal  
structure  of  a  piece  of  language  might  be  called  text  analysis.  Its  purpose  is  to  
discover  the  patterning  of  linguistic  elements  beyond  the  limit  of  the  sentence,  
and  what  it  is  that  provides  a  text  with  its  cohesion.  Thus  what  Harris  calls  
“discourse  analysis”  will  be  referred  to  as  “text  analysis”.  One  is  to  some  degree  
justified  in  thus  taking  liberties  with  Harris’s  terminology  by  the  fact  that  Harris  
himself  appears  to  use  the  terms  ‘text’  and  ‘discourse’  interchangeably,  as  for  
example,  in  the  following  quotation:  
 
The  formal  features  of  the  discourses  can  be  studied  by  distributional  
methods  within  the  text.  (Harris  1952/1964:  357)  
 
We  may  now  use  the  term  discourse  analysis  to  refer  to  the  kind  of  investigation  
proposed  by  Labov  into  the  way  linguistic  elements  are  put  to  communicative  
use  in  the  performing  of  social  actions.  Its  purpose  is  to  discover  what  sentences  
count  as  utterances  and  what  it  is  that  provides  a  discourse  with  its  coherence  as  
a  piece  of  communication.  
 

Issues  to  consider    

 
 Widdowson  contrasts  Harris’s  view  of  discourse,  which  focuses  on  
linguistic  patterns  and  tries  to  correlate  them  to  different  social  
situations  with  that  of  Labov,  who  focuses  on  how  language  is  used  to  
perform  particular  communicative  acts.  What  arguments  could  be  
made  for  and  against  these  two  contrasting  views?  Is  there  any  way  
they  could  be  fruitfully  combined  or  are  they  mutually  exclusive?    
 
 Widdowson  associates  the  perspective  of  Harris  (discourse  as  
language  beyond  the  clause)  more  with  the  study  of  cohesion  and  the  
perspective  of  Labov  (discourse  as  language  in  use)  more  with  the  
study  of  the  coherence  of  discourse  ‘as  a  piece  of  communication.’  How  
can  you  explain  this  distinction  based  on  the  discussion  of  cohesion  
and  coherence  in  section  B2?    

 
C.  
Discourses  
James  Paul  Gee  (reprinted  from  Introduction  to  discourse  analysis  (2010):  28-­‐29)  
 
People  build  identities  and  activities  not  just  through  language,  but  by  using  
language  together  with  other  “stuff”  that  isn’t  language.    If  you  want  to  get  
recognized  as  a  street-­‐gang  member  of  a  certain  sort  you  have  to  speak  in  the  
“right”  way,  but  you  also  have  to  act  and  dress  in  the  “right”  way,  as  well.    You  
also  have  to  engage  (or,  at  least,  behave  as  if  you  are  engaging)  in  characteristic  
ways  of  thinking,  acting,  interacting,  valuing,  feeling,  and  believing.    You  also  
have  to  use  or  be  able  to  use  various  sorts  of  symbols  (e.g.,  graffiti),  tools  (e.g.,  a  

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weapon),  and  objects  (e.g.,  street  corners)  in  the  “right”  places  and  at  the  “right”  
times.    You  can’t  just  “talk  the  talk”,  you  have  to  “walk  the  walk”  as  well.      
The  same  is  true  of  doing/being  a  corporate  lawyer,  Marine  sergeant,  radical  
feminist,  or  a  regular  at  the  local  bar.    One  and  the  same  person  might  talk,  act,  
and  interact  in  such  a  way  as  to  get  recognized  as  a  “street  gang  member”  in  one  
context  and,  in  another  context,  talk,  act,  and  interact  in  quite  different  ways  so  
as  to  get  recognized  as  a  “gifted  student”.    And,  indeed,  these  two  identities,  and  
their  concomitant  ways  of  talking,  acting,  and  interacting,  may  well  conflict  with  
each  other  in  some  circumstances  (where  different  people  expect  different  
identities  from  the  person),  as  well  as  in  the  person’s  own  mind.      
 
I  use  the  term  “Discourse”,  with  a  capital  “D”,  for  ways  of  combining  and  
integrating  language,  actions,  interactions,  ways  of  thinking,  believing,  valuing,  
and  using  various  symbols,  tools,  and  objects  to  enact  a  particular  sort  of  socially  
recognizable  identity.    Thinking  about  the  different  Discourses  a  piece  of  
language  is  part  of  is  another  tool  for  engaging  in  discourse  analysis.  
 
*  
 
A  Discourse  is  a  characteristic  way  of  saying,  doing,  and  being.    When  you  speak  
or  write  anything,  you  use  the  resources  of  English  to  project  yourself  as  a  
certain  kind  of  person,  a  different  kind  in  different  circumstances.    You  also  
project  yourself  as  engaged  in  a  certain  practice  or  activity.    If  I  have  no  idea  who  
you  are  and  what  you  are  doing,  then  I  cannot  make  sense  of  what  you  have  said,  
written,  or  done.  
 
You  project  a  different  identity  at  a  formal  dinner  party  than  you  do  at  the  family  
dinner  table.    And,  though  these  are  both  dinner,  they  are  nonetheless  different  
practices  or  activities  (different  “games”).    The  fact  that  people  have  differential  
access  to  different  identities  and  practices,  connected  to  different  sorts  of  status  
and  social  goods,  is  a  root  source  of  inequality  in  society.    Intervening  in  such  
matters  can  be  a  contribution  to  social  justice.    Since  different  identities  and  
activities  are  enacted  in  and  through  language,  the  study  of  language  is  integrally  
connected  to  matters  of  equity  and  justice.    
 

Issues  to  consider    

 
 ‘Discourses’  are  larger  systems  for  making  meaning  and  enacting  
social  identities  in  which  language  plays  a  part,  along  with  other  things  
like  dress,  behavior,  attitude,  etc.  You  can  list  the  languages  that  you  
speak  (such  a  English,  Japanese  and  Korean).  Can  you  list  some  
‘Discourses’  that  you  ‘speak’?    
 
 Gee  says  that  sometimes  the  way  we  ‘talk,  act,  and  interact’  in  order  to  
‘do/be’  one  kind  of  person  might  conflict  with  the  way  we  ‘talk,  act,  
and  interact’  in  order  to  ‘do/be’  another  kind  of  person,  and  that  
sometimes  this  causes  problems  in  regard  to  things  like  social  equity  
and  justice.  Can  you  think  of  any  examples  of  this?    

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D2  TWO  PERSPECTIVES  ON  TEXTURE  
 
In  this  Section  we  have  included  excerpts  from  two  classic  texts  which  address  
the  problem  of  texture.  The  first  is  from  Cohesion  in  English  by  M.A.K.  Halliday  
and  Ruqauya  Hasan.  In  this  excerpt  the  authors  explain  their  basic  idea  of  
cohesion  and  the  different  kinds  of  devices  that  create  cohesion  in  texts.  The  
second  is  from  the  article  ‘Notes  on  a  Schema  for  Stories’  by  David  Rumelhardt  in  
which  the  author  argues  that  our  ability  to  understand  stories  depends  on  us  
having  in  our  minds  the  basic  structure  or  ‘schema’  for  stories.    

A.    

The  concept  of  cohesion  

Michael  Halliday  and  Ruqaiya  Hasan  (reprinted  from  Cohesion  in  English,  1976,  
London:  Longman,  pp.  1-­‐9)  
 
1.1.1  Text  
 
If  a  speaker  of  English  hears  or  reads  a  passage  of  the  language  which  is  more  
than  one  sentence  in  length,  he  can  normally  decide  without  difficulty  whether  it  
forms  a  unified  whole  or  is  just  a  collection  of  unrelated  sentences.  This  book  is  
about  what  makes  the  difference  between  the  two.  
 
The  word  TEXT  is  used  in  linguistics  to  refer  to  any  passage,  spoken  or  written,  
of  whatever  length,  that  docs  form  a  unified  whole.  We  know,  as  a  general  rule,  
whether  any  specimen  of  our  own  language  constitutes  a  TEXT  or  not.  This  does  
not  mean  there  can  never  be  any  uncertainty.  The  distinction  between  a  text  and  
a  collection  of  unrelated  sentences  is  in  the  last  resort  a  matter  of  degree,  and  
there  may  always  be  instances  about  which  we  are  uncertain  -­‐  a  point  that  is  
probably  familiar  to  most  teachers  from  reading  their  students'  compositions.  
But  this  does  not  invalidate  the  general  observation  that  we  are  sensitive  to  the  
distinction  between  what  is  text  and  what  is  not.  
 
This  suggests  that  there  are  objective  factors  involved  -­‐  there  must  be  certain  
features  which  are  characteristic  of  texts  and  not  found  otherwise;  and  so  there  
are.  We  shall  attempt  to  identify  these,  in  order  to  establish  what  are  the  
properties  of  texts  in  English,  and  what  it  is  that  distinguishes  a  text  from  a  
disconnected  sequence  of  sentences.  As  always  in  linguistic  description,  we  shall  
be  discussing  things  that  the  native  speaker  of  the  language'  knows'  already  -­‐  but  
without  knowing  that  he  knows  them.    
 
A  text  may  be  spoken  or  written,  prose  or  verse,  dialogue  or  monologue.  It  may  
be  anything  from  a  single  proverb  to  a  whole  play,  from  a  momentary  cry  for  
help  to  an  all-­‐day  discussion  on  a  committee.  A  text  is  a  unit  of  language  in  use.  It  
is  not  a  grammatical  unit,  like  a  clause  or  a  sentence;  and  it  is  not  defined  by  its  
size.  A  text  is  sometimes  envisaged  to  be  some  kind  of  super-­‐sentence,  a  
grammatical  unit  that  is  larger  than  a  sentence  but  is  related  to  a  sentence  in  the  
same  way  that  a  sentence  is  related  to  a  clause,  a  clause  to  a  group  and  so  on:  by  

  159  
CONSTITUENCY,  the  composition  of  larger  units  out  of  smaller  ones.  But  this  is  
misleading.  A  text  is  not  something  that  is  like  a  sentence,  only  bigger;  it  is  
something  that  differs  from  a  sentence  in  kind.  
 
A  text  is  best  regarded  as  a  SEMANTIC  unit:  a  unit  not  of  form  but  of  meaning.  
Thus  it  is  related  to  a  clause  or  sentence  not  by  size  but  by  REALIZATION,  the  
coding  of  one  symbolic  system  in  another.  A  text  does  not  CONSIST  OF  sentences;  
it  is  REALIZED  BY,  or  encoded  in,  sentences.  If  we  understand  it  in  this  way,  we  
shall  not  expect  to  find  the  same  kind  of  STRUCTURAL  integration  among  the  
parts  of  a  text  as  we  find  among  the  parts  of  a  sentence  or  clause.  The  unity  of  a  
text  is  a  unity  of  a  different  kind.  
 
1.1.2  Texture  
 
The  concept  of  TEXTURE  is  entirely  appropriate  to  express  the  property  of  'being  
a  text'.  A  text  has  texture,  and  this  is  what  distinguishes  it  from  something  that  is  
not  a  text.  It  derives  this  texture  from  the  fact  that  it  functions  as  a  unity  with  
respect  to  its  environment.  
 
What  we  are  investigating  in  this  book  are  the  resources  that  English  has  for  
creating  texture.  If  a  passage  of  English  containing  more  than  one  sentence  is  
perceived  as  a  text,  there  will  be  certain  linguistic  features  present  in  that  
passage  which  can  be  identified  as  contributing  to  its  total  unity  and  giving  it  
texture.  
 
Let  us  start  with  a  simple  and  trivial  example.  Suppose  we  find  the  following  
instructions  in  the  cookery  book:  
 
[1:1]  Wash  and  core  six  cooking  apples.  Put  them  into  a  fireproof  dish.  
 
It  is  clear  that  them  in  the  second  sentence  refers  back  to  (is  ANAPH0RIC  to)  the  
six  cooking  apples  in  the  first  sentence.  This  ANAPHORIC  function  of  them  gives  
cohesion  to  the  two  sentences,  so  that  we  interpret  them  as  a  whole;  the  two  
sentences  together  constitute  a  text.  Or  rather,  they  form  part  of  the  same  text;  
there  may  be  more  of  it  to  follow.  
 
The  texture  is  provided  by  the  cohesive  RELATION  that  exists  between  them  and  
six  cooking  apples.  It  is  important  to  make  this  point,  because  we  shall  be  
constantly  focusing  attention  on  the  items,  such  as  them,  which  typically  refer  
back  to  something  that  has  gone  before;  but  the  cohesion  is  effected  not  by  the  
presence  of  the  referring  item  alone  but  by  the  presence  of  both  the  referring  
item  and  the  item  that  it  refers  to.  In  other  words,  it  is  not  enough  that  there  
should  be  a  presupposition;  the  presupposition  must  also  be  satisfied.  This  
accounts  for  the  humorous  effect  produced  by  the  radio  comedian  who  began  his  
act  with  the  sentence  
 
[1:2]  So  we  pushed  him  under  the  other  one.  
 

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This  sentence  is  loaded  with  presuppositions,  located  in  the  words  so,  him,  other  
and  one,  and,  since  it  was  the  opening  sentence,  none  of  them  could  be  resolved.  
What  is  the  MEANING  of  the  cohesive  relation  between  them  and  six  cooking  
apples?  The  meaning  is  that  they  refer  to'  the  same  thing.  The  two  items  are  
identical  in  reference,  or  COREFERENTIAL.  The  cohesive  agency  in  this  instance,  
that  which  provides  the  texture,  is  the  coreferentiality  of  them  and  six  cooking  
apples.  The  signal,  or  the  expression,  of  this  coreferentiality  is  the  presence  of  the  
potentially  anaphoric  item  them  in  the  second  sentence  together  with  a  potential  
target  item  six  cooking  apples  in  the  first.  
 
Identity  of  reference  is  not  the  only  meaning  relation  that  contributes  to  texture;  
there  are  others  besides.  Nor  is  the  use  of  a  pronoun  the  only  way  of  expressing  
identity  of  reference.  We  could  have  had:  
 
[1:3]  Wash  and  core  six  cooking  apples.  Put  the  apples  into  a  fireproof  dish.  
Here  the  item  functioning  cohesively  is  the  apples,  which  works  by  repetition  of  
the  word  apples  accompanied  by  the  as  an  anaphoric  signal.  One  of  the  functions  
of  the  definite  article  is  to  signal  identity  of  reference  with  something  that  has  
gone  before.  (Since  this  has  sometimes  been  said  to  be  its  only  function,  we  
should  perhaps  point  out  that  it  has  others  as  well,  which  are  not  cohesive  at  all;  
for  example  none  of  the  instances  in  (a)  or  (b)  has  an  anaphoric  sense:  
 
[1:4]     a.  None  but  the  brave  deserve  the  fair.  
b.  The  pain  in  my  head  cannot  stifle  the  pain  in  my  heart.  
 
1.1.3  Ties  
 
We  need  a  term  to  refer  to  a  single  instance  of  cohesion,  a  term  for  one  
occurrence  of  a  pair  of  cohesively  related  items.  This  we  shall  call  a  TIE.  The  
relation  between  them  and  six  cooking  apples  in  example  [1:1]  constitutes  a  tie.  
 
We  can  characterize  any  segment  of  a  text'  in  terms  of  the  number  and  kinds  of  
ties  which  it  displays.  In  [1:1]  there  is  just  one  tie,  of  the  particular  kind  which  
we  shall  be  calling  REFERENCE.  In  [1:3],  there  are  actually  two  ties,  of  which  one  
is  of  the  ‘reference’  kind,  and  consists  in  the  anaphoric  relation  of  the  to  six  
cooking  apples,  while  the  other  is  of  a  different  kind  and  consists  in  the  
REPETITION  of  the  word  apples,  a  repetition  which  would  still  have  a  cohesive  
effect  even  if  the  two  were  not  referring  to  the  same  apples.    
 
The  concept  of  a  tie  makes  it  possible  to  analyse  a  text  in  terms  of  its  cohesive  
properties,  and  give  a  systematic  account  of  its  patterns  of  texture.  Various  types  
of  question  can  be  investigated  in  this  way,  for  example  concerning  the  
difference  between  speech  and  writing,  the  relationship  between  cohesion  and  
the  organization  of  written  texts  into  sentences  and  paragraphs,  and  the  possible  
differences  among  different  genres  and  different  authors  in  the  numbers  and  
kinds  of  tie  they  typically  employ.  
 
The  different  kinds  of  cohesive  tie  are:  reference,  substitution,  ellipsis,  
conjunction,  and  lexical  cohesion.    

  161  
  
1.1.4  Cohesion  
 
The  concept  of  cohesion  is  a  semantic  one;  it  refers  to  relations  of  meaning  that  
exist  within  the  text,  and  that  define  it  as  a  text.    
 
Cohesion  occurs  where  the  INTERPRETATION  of  some  element  in  the  discourse  
is  dependent  on  that  of  another.  The  one  PRESUPPOSES  the  other,  in  the  sense  
that  it  cannot  be  effectively  decoded  except  by  recourse  to  it.  When  this  happens,  
a  relation  of  cohesion  is  set  up,  and  the  two  elements,  the  presupposing  and  the  
presupposed,  are  thereby  at  least  potentially  integrated  into  a  text.  
 
This  is  another  way  of  approaching  the  notion  of  a  tie.  To  return  to  example  
[1:1],  the  word  them  presupposes  for  its  interpretation  something  other  than  
itself.  This  requirement  is  met  by  the  six  cooking  apples  in  the  preceding  
sentence.  The  presupposition,  and  the  fact  that  it  is  resolved,  provide  cohesion  
between  the  two  sentences,  and  in  so  doing  create  text.  
As  another  example,  consider  the  old  piece  of  schoolboy  humour:  
 
[1:5]  Time  flies.  
-­‐You  can't;  they  fly  too  quickly.  
 
The  first  sentence  gives  no  indication  of  not  being  a  complete  text;  in  fact  it  
usually  is,  and  the  humour  lies  in  the  misinterpretation  that  is  required  if  the  
presupposition  from  the  second  sentence  is  to  be  satisfied.  Here,  incidentally  the  
cohesion  is  expressed  in  no  less  than  three  ties:  the  elliptical  form  you  can’t,  the  
reference  item  they  and  the  lexical  repetition  fly.  
 
Cohesion  is  part  of  the  system  of  a  language.  The  potential  for  cohesion  lies  in  the  
systematic  resources  of  reference,  ellipsis  and  so  on  that  are  built  into  the  
language  itself.  The  actualization  of  cohesion  in  any  given  instance,  however,  
depends  not  merely  on  the  selection  of  some  option  from  within  these  resources,  
but  also  on  the  presence  of  some  other  element  which  resolves  the  
presupposition  that  this  sets  up.  It  is  obvious  that  the  selection  of  the  word  
apples  has  no  cohesive  force  by  itself;  a  cohesive  relation  is  set  up  only  if  the  
same  word,  or  a  word  related  to  it  such  fruit,  has  occurred  previously.  It  is  less  
obvious,  but  equally  true,  that  the  word  them  has  no  cohesive  force  either  unless  
there  is  some  explicit  referent  for  it  within  reach.  In  both  instances,  the  cohesion  
lies  in  the  relation  that  is  set  up  between  the  two.  
 
Like  other  semantic  relations,  cohesion  is  expressed  through  the  stratal  
organization  of  language.  Language  can  be  explained  as  a  multiple  coding  system  
comprising  three  levels  of  coding,  or  'strata':  the  semantic  (meanings),  the  
lexicogrammatical  (forms)  and  the  phonological  and  orthographic  (expressions).    
 
Meanings  are  realized  (coded)  as  forms,  and  forms  are  realized  in  turn  (recoded)  
as  expressions.  To  put  this  in  everyday  terminology,  meaning  is  put  into  
wording,  and  wording  into  sound  or  writing:  
 

  162  
meaning       (the  semantic  system)  
 
              wording       (the  lexicogrammatical  system,    grammar  

and  vocabulary)  
                     
sounding'/writing    (the  phonological  and  orthographic  
systems)  
 
The  popular  term  ‘wording’  refers  to  lexicogrammatical  form,  the  choice  of  
words  and  grammatical  structures.  Within  this  stratum,  there  is  no  hard-­‐and-­‐fast  
division  between  vocabulary  and  grammar;  the  guiding  principle  in  language  is  
that  the  more  general  meanings  are  expressed  through  the  grammar,  and  the  
more  specific  meanings  through  the  vocabulary.  
 
Cohesive  relations  fit  into  the  same  overall  pattern.  Cohesion  is  expressed  partly  
through  the  grammar  and  partly  through  the  vocabulary.  We  can  refer  therefore  
to  GRAMMATICAL  COHESION  and  LEXICAL  COHESION.  In  example  [1:3J,  one  of  
the  ties  was  grammatical  (reference,  expressed  by  the),  the  other  lexical  
(repetition,  expressed  by  apples).  The  distinction  between  grammatical  and  
lexical  is  really  only  one  of  degree,  and  we  need  not  make  too  much  of  it  here.  It  
is  important  to  stress,  however,  that  when  we  talk  of  cohesion  as  being  
‘grammatical  or  lexical’,  we  do  not  imply  that  it  is  a  purely  formal  relation,  in  
which  meaning  is  not  involved.  Cohesion  is  a  semantic  relation.  But,  like  all  
components  of  the  semantic  system,  it  is  realized  through  the  lexicogrammatical  
system;  and  it  is  at  this  point  that  the  distinction  can  be  drawn.  Some  forms  of  
cohesion  are  realized  through  the  grammar  and  others  through  the  vocabulary.  
 

Issues  to  consider  

 
 Halliday  and  Hasan  emphasize  a  number  of  times  in  this  excerpt  that  
cohesion  is  a  semantic  concept  rather  than  just  a  formal  property  of  
texts.  What  do  they  mean  by  this  and  what  does  it  reveal  about  their  
perspective  on  discourse?    
 
 Halliday  and  Hasan  say  that  ‘A  text  does  not  CONSIST  OF  sentences;  it  
is  REALIZED  BY,  or  encoded  in,  sentences.’  What  exactly  is  meant  by  
this  distinction  How  can  it  be  related  to  the  contrasting  views  of  Harris  
and  Widdowson  (and  Labov)  that  we  saw  in  the  last  section?  

B.    
Story  schema  
 

  163  
David  Rumelhart  (reprinted  from  Notes  on  a  schema  for  stories,  1975.  In  D.  
Bobrow  and  A.  Collins  (Eds.),  Representation  and  Understanding:  Studies  in  
Cognitive  Science.  New  York:  Academic  Press,  pp.  211-­‐216)  
 
Just  as  simple  sentences  can  be  said  to  have  an  internal  structure,  so  too  can  
stories  be  said  to  have  an  internal  structure.  This  is  so  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  no  
one  has  ever  been  able  to  specify  a  general  structure  for  stories  that  will  
distinguish  the  strings  of  sentences  which  form  stories  from  strings  which  do  
not.  Nevertheless,  the  notion  of  "well-­‐formedness"  is  nearly  as  reasonable  for  
stories  as  it  is  for  sentences.  Consider  the  following  examples:  
 
(1)  Margie  was  holding  tightly  to  the  string  of  her  beautiful  new  balloon.  
Suddenly,  a  gust  of  wind  caught  it.  The  wind  carried  it  into  a  tree  ..  The  balloon  
hit  a  branch  and  burst.  Margie  cried  and  cried.  
 
(2)  Margie  cried  and  cried.  The  balloon  hit  a  branch  and  burst.  The  wind  carried  
it  into  a  tree.  Suddenly  a  gust  of  wind  caught  it.  Margie  was  holding  tightly  to  the  
string  of  her  beautiful  new  balloon.  
 
Here  we  find  two  strings  of  sentences.  One,  however,  also  seems  to  form  a  
sensible  whole,  whereas  the  other  seems  to  be  analyzable  into  little  more  than  a  
string  of  sentences.  These  examples  should  make  clear  that  some  higher  level  of  
organization  takes  place  in  stories  that  does  not  take  place  in  strings  of  
sentences.  The  purpose  of  this  chapter  is  to  illustrate  that  point,  to  develop  some  
notions  of  the  sorts  of  structures  that  might  be  involved,  and  to  illustrate,  how  
these  structures  can  be  used  to  produce  cogent  summaries  of  stories.  
 
To  begin,  it  is  clear  that  simple  sentences  are  not  the  highest  level  of  structured  
linguistic  input.  Sentences  themselves  can  serve  as  arguments  for  higher  
predicates  and  thus  form  more  complex  sentences.  For  example,  
 
(3)  Margie  knew  that  her  balloon  had  burst.  
 
Here  we  have  one  sentence  about  the  bursting  of  Margie's  balloon  embedded  as  
the  argument  of  a  higher  verb.  Sentences  such  as  these,  of  course,  occur  with  
high  frequency.  Another  case  in  which  sentences  occur  as  arguments  of  higher  
predicates  is  
 
(4)  Margie  cried  and  cried  because  her  balloon  broke.  
In  this  case  the  predicate  "because"  takes  two  sentences  as  arguments.  Now  
consider  the  following  pair  of  sentences:  
 
(5a)  Margie's  balloon  broke.  
(5b)  Margie  cried  and  cried.  
 
It  seems  clear  that  the  sentence  pair  (5a)  and  (5b)  have  almost  the  same  
meaning  as  (4)  and  ought  therefore  to  have  the  same  underlying  structure.  Thus  
if  we  are  to  understand  correctly  (5a)  and  (5b)  we  must  infer  the  causal  
relationship  between  the  propositions.  This,  I  suspect,  is  but  a  scratch  on'  the  

  164  
surface  of  the  kinds  of  "suprasentential"  relationships  that  are  implied  and  
understood  in  ordinary  discourse.  In  particular,  I  suggest  that  the  structure  .  of  
stories  is  ordinarily  more  than  pairwise  relationships  among  sentences.  Rather,  
strings  of  sentences  combine  into  psychological  wholes.  In  the  following  section  I  
explore  the  nature  of  these  wholes  and  propose  a  simple  story  grammar  whIch  
accounts  for  many  of  the  salient  facts  about  the  structure  of  simple  stories  and  
which  will  serve  as  the  basis  for  a  theory  of  summarization.  
 
II.  A  SIMPLE  STORY  GRAMMAR  
 
A.  The  Grammar  Rules  
 
In  this  section  I  will  develop  a  grammar  which  I  suggest  accounts  in  a  reasonable  
way  for  the  structure  of  a  wide  range  of  simple  stories.  'The  grammar  consists  of  
a  set  of  syntactical  rules  which  generate  the  constituent  structure  of  stories  and  a  
corresponding  set  of  semantic  interpretation  rules  which  determine  the  
semantic  representation  of  the  story.  The  symbol  "+"  is  used  to  form  two  items  in  
a  sequence;  the  symbol  "|"  is  used  to  separate  mutually  exclusive  alternatives.  A  
“*”  following  a  structure  name  indicates  one  or  more  of  those  units;  for'  example,  
A  *  is  one  or  more  As.  
 
Rule  1:  Story  -­‐>  Setting  +  Episode  
 
The  first  rule  of  our  grammar  says  simply  that  stories  consist  of  a  Setting  
followed  by  an  Episode.  The  Setting  is  a  statement  of  the  time,  and  place  of  a  
story  as  well  as  an  introduction  to  its  main  characters.  The  Setting  corresponds  
to  the  initial  section  of  stories  such  as:  
 
Once  upon  a  time,  in  a  far  away  land  there  lived  a  good  king,  his  beautiful  queen,  
and  their  daughter  Princess  Cordelia  
 
The  setting  is  usually  just  a  series  of  stative  propositions,  often  terminated  by  
phrases  such  as:    
 
One  day,  as  Princess  Cordelia  was  walking  near  the  palace.  
In  the  story  illustrated  in  the  first  example-­‐-­‐the  Margie  story-­‐-­‐the  setting  
consisted  of  the  sentence:  
 
Margie  was  holding  the  string  of  her  beautiful  new  balloon.  
The  remainder  of  the  story  is  an  Episode.  The  simple  semantic  rule  
corresponding  to  Rule  1  is:  
 
Rule  1’:  ALLOW  (Setting,  Episode)  
 
Semantically,  the  setting  forms  a  structure  into  which  the  remainder  of  the  story  
can  be  linked.  It  plays  no  integral  part  in  the  body  of  the  story  and  under  certain  
conditions  can  be  eliminated  without  adversely  effecting  (sic)  the  story:  In  such  
cases,  the  characters  and  their  relevant  characteristics  must  be  introduced  in  the  
body  of  the  story.  

  165  
  
Rule  2:  Setting  -­‐  >  (State)*  
 
Rule  2  simply  expresses  the  assumption  that  settings  consist  of  a  set  of  stative  
propositions.  
 
Rule  2':  AND  (State,  State,  ...  )  
 
Semantically,  the  states  are  represented  as  a  set  of  conjoined  propositions  
entered  into  the  data  base.  .  
 
The  first  real  substantive  rule  m  our  rewrite  for  Episode  is:  
 
Rule  3:  Episode  -­‐>  Event  +  Reaction  
 
Episodes  are  special  kinds  of  events  which  involve  the  reactions  of  animate  (or  
anthropomorphized)  objects  to  events  in  the  world.  The  episode  consists  merely  
of  the  occurrence  of  some  event  followed  by  the  reaction  of  the  hero  of  the  
episode  to  the  event.  Our  semantic  rule  corresponding  to  Rule  3  is:  
 
Rule  3':  INITIATE  (Event,  Reaction)  
 
That  is,  the  relationship  between  the  external  event  and  the  hero's  reaction  is  
one  that  I  call  INITIATE.  I  have  taken  the  term  from  Schank  (1973),  although  my  
use  is  slightly  different  from  his.  I  use  the  term  INITIATE  to  represent  a  kind  of  
causal  relationship  between  an  external  event  and  the  willful  reaction  of  a  
thinking  being  to  that  event.  In  the  Margie  story  illustrated  in  (1),  I  assume  that  
the  relationship  between  Margie's  crying  and  the  breaking  of  her  balloon  is  the  
INITIATE  relationship.  Presumably,  the  crying  is  mediated  by  an  internal  mental  
response  such  as  "sadness".  
 
Event  is  the  most  general  category  of  our  entire  grammar.  The  following  rule  
expresses  the  structure  of  an  event:  
 
Rule  4:  Event  -­‐>  {Episode  |  Change-­‐of-­‐  state  |  Action|  Event  +  Event}  
 
Thus  an  Event  can  be  any  of  the  alternatives,  an  episode,  a  simple  change  of  state,  
or  an  action  that  people  carry  out.  All  are  special  kinds  of  events.  Furthermore,  a  
sequence  of  events  also  can  constitute  an  event.  The  first  three  parts  of  Rule  4  
require  no  semantic  interpretation  rules.  Our  semantic  rule  corresponding  to  the  
fourth  rewrite  for  event  is:  
 
Rule  4':  CAUSE  (Event,  Event)  or  ALLOW  (Event,  Event)  
 
The  rule  states  that  a  sequence  of  two  events  can  either  be  interpreted  as  one  
event  CAUSE  a  second  event  or  they  can  be  interpreted  as  the  first  event  ALLOW  
the  second.  The  term  CAUSE  is  used  when  the  relationship  between  the  events  is  
one  of  physical  causation  as  in  the  balloon  hitting  the  branch  causing  the  balloon  
to  break  in  the  Margie  story.  (The  CAUSE  predicate  is  similar  to  Schank's  (1973)  

  166  
RESULT.)  ALLOW  is  a  relationship  between  two  events  in  which  the  first  makes  
the  second  possible,  but  does  not  cause  it;  thus  the  relationship  between  the  
wind  catching  the  balloon  and  the  wind  carrying  it  into  the  tree  I  would  say  is  
ALLOW.  (Here  again  my  usage  of  ALLOW  is  clearly  closely  related  to  Schank's  
ENABLE,  but  is  probably  not  identical.)  
 
Rule  5:  Reaction  -­‐>  Internal  Response  +  Overt  Response  
 
Thus  a  reaction  consists  of  two  parts,  an  internal  and  an  overt  response.  The  
semantic  relation  between  these  two  responses  is:  
 
Rule  5':  MOTIVATE  (Internal  Response,  Overt  Response)  
 
MOTIVATE  is  the  term  used  to  relate  thoughts  to  their  corresponding  overt  
actions.  
 
Presumably  there  are  a  large  variety  of  types  of  internal  responses.  The  two  most  
common,  however,  seem  to  be  emotions  and  desires.  Thus  we  have:  
Rule  6:  Internal  Response  -­‐>  {Emotion  |  Desire}  
Presumably  other  internal  responses  can  be  aroused,  but  in  the  stories  I  have  
analyzed  these  two  have  been  sufficient.  The  overt  response  is,  of  course,  
semantically  constrained  to  be  a  plausible  response  for  our  particular  internal  
response.  
 

Issues  to  consider  

 
 Can  you  think  of  any  stories  you  have  read  or  heard  that  do  not  
conform  to  Rumelhart’s  model?  Does  the  fact  that  they  do  not  conform  
make  these  stories  in  any  way  special  or  unusual?  How  do  you  react  as  
a  reader  or  listener  when  a  story  does  not  follow  the  structure  you  
expect?    
 
 These  two  excerpts  approach  the  problem  of  texture  from  two  very  
different  disciplinary  perspectives,  one  from  the  perspective  of  
linguistics  and  the  other  from  the  perspective  of  cognitive  science.  
What  do  you  think  are  the  advantages  and  limitations  of  these  two  
different  perspectives?    Can  you  think  of  certain  kinds  of  texts  for  
which  one  perspective  seems  more  suited  than  the  other?    

  167  
D3  GENRES,  DISCOURSE  COMMUNITIES  AND  POWER  
 
The  two  excerpts  below  are  from  two  important  figures  in  the  field  of  genre  
analysis.  In  the  first,  John  Swales,  clarifies  the  concept  of  ‘discourse  community’  
by  providing  six  ‘defining  characteristics’  having  to  do  with  people’s  
relationships  to  one  another  and  to  the  texts  that  they  use  together.  In  the  
second,  Vijay  Bhatia  discusses  the  tension  between  creativity  and  conformity  in  
genre  and  how  this  relates  to  issues  of  power  and  politics  among  members  of  a  
discourse  community.    

A.  
A  conceptualization  of  discourse  community  
John  Swales  (reprinted  from  J.  Swales,  Genre  Analysis,  Cambridge:  Cambridge  
University  Press,  1990,  pp.  24-­‐27)  
 
I  would  now  like  to  propose  six  defining  characteristics  that  will  be  necessary  
and  sufficient  for  identifying  a  group  of  individuals  as  a  discourse  community.  
 
1.  A  discourse  community  has  a  broadly  agreed  set  of  common  public  goals.  
 
These  public  goals  may  be  formally  inscribed  in  documents  (as  is  often  
the  case  with  associations  and  clubs),  or  they  may  be  more  tacit.  The    
goals  are  public,  because  spies  may  join  speech  and  discourse  communities  
for  hidden  purposes  of  subversion,  while  more  ordinary  people  may  join  
organizations  with  private  hopes  of  commercial  or  romantic  advancement.  In  
some  instances,  but  not  in  many,  the  goals  may  be  high  level  or  abstract.  In  a  
Senate  or  Parliament  there  may  well  exist  overtly  adversarial  groups  of  
members,  but  these  adversaries  may  broadly  share  some  common  objective  as  
striving  for  improved  government.  In  the  much  more  typical  non-­‐adversarial  
discourse  communities,  reduction  in  the  broad  level  of  agreement  may  fall  to  a  
point  where  communication  breaks  down  and  the  discourse  community  splits.  It  
is  commonality  of  goal,  not  shared  object  of  study  that  is  criterial,  even  if  the  
former  often  subsumes  the  latter.  But  not  always.  The  fact  that  the  shared  object  
of  study  is,  say,  the  Vatican,  does  not  imply  that  students  of  the  Vatican  in  history  
departments,  the  Kremlin,  dioceses,  birth  control  agencies  and  liberation  
theology  seminaries  form  a  discourse  community.  
 
2.  A  discourse  community  has  mechanisms  of  intercommunication  among  its  
members.  
 
The  participatory  mechanisms  will  vary  according  to  the  community:  meetings,  
telecommunications,  correspondence,  newsletters,  conversations  and  so  forth.  
This  criterion  is  quite  stringent  because  it  produces  a  negative  answer  to  the  
case  of  'The  Cafe  Owner  Problem'  (Najjar,  personal  communication).  [n  
generalized  form,  the  problem  goes  as  follows:  individuals  A,  B,  C  and  so  on  
occupy  the  same  professional  roles  in  life.  They  interact  (in  speech  and  writing)  

  168  
with  the  same  clienteles;  they  originate,  receive  and  respond  to  the  same  kind  of  
messages  for  the  same  purposes;  they  have  an  approximately  similar  range  of  
genre  skills.  And  yet,  as  cafe  owners  working  long  hours  in  their  own  
establishments,  and  not  being  members  of  the  Local  Chamber  of  Commerce,  A,  
Band  C  never  interact  with  one  another.  Do  they  form  a  discourse  community?  
We  can  notice  first  that  'The  Cafe  Owner  Problem'  is  not  quite  [ike  those  
situations  where  A,  Band  C  operate  as  'point'.  A,  Band  C  may  be  lighthouse  
keepers  on  their  lonely  rocks,  or  missionaries  in  their  separate  Jungles,  or  
neglected  consular  officials  in  their  rotting  outposts.  In  all  these  cases,  although  
A,  Band  C  may  never  interact,  they  all  have  lines  of  communication  back  to  base,  
and  presumably  acquired  discourse  community  membership  as  a  key  element  in  
their  initial  training.  Bizzell  (1987)  argues  that  the  cafe  owner  kind  of  social  
group  will  be  a  discourse  community  because  'its  members  may  share  the  social-­‐
class  based  or  ethnically-­‐based  discursive  practices  of  people  who  are  likely  to  
become  cafe  owners  in  their  neighborhood'  (1987:5).  However,  even  if  this  
sharing  of  discursive  practice  occurs,  it  does  not  resolve  the  logical  problem  of  
assigning  membership  of  a  community  to  individuals  who  neither  admit  nor  
recognize  that  such  a  community  exists.  
 
3.  A  discourse  community  uses  its  participatory  mechanisms  primarily  to  provide  
information  and  feedback.  
 
Thus,  membership  implies  uptake  of  the  informational  opportunities.  Individuals  
might  pay  an  annual  subscription  to  the  Acoustical  Society  of  America  but  if  they  
never  open  any  of  its  communications  they  cannot  be  said  to  belong  to  the  
discourse  community,  even  though  they  are  formally  members  of  the  society.  
The  secondary  purposes  of  the  information  exchange  will  vary  according  to  the  
common  goals:  to  improve  performance  in  a  football  squad  or  in  an  orchestra,  to  
make  money  in  a  brokerage  house,  to  grow  better  roses  in  a  gardening  club,  or  to  
dent  the  research  front  in  an  academic  department.  
 
4.  A  discourse  community  utilizes  and  hence  possesses  one  or  more  genres  in  the  
communicative  furtherance  of  its  aims.  .    
 
A  discourse  community  has  developed  and  continues  to  develop  discoursal  
expectations.  These  may  involve  appropriacy  of  topics,  the  form,  function  and  
positioning  of  discoursal  elements,  and  the  roles  texts  play  in  the  operation  of  
the  discourse  community.  In  so  far  as  'genres  are  how  things  get  done,  when  
language  is  used  to  accomplish  them'  (Martin,  1985  :250),  these  discoursal  
expectations  are  created  by  the  genres  that  articulate  the  operations  of  the  
discourse.  community.  One  of  the  purposes  of  this  criterion  is  to  question  
discourse  community  status  for  new  or  newly-­‐emergent  groupings.  Such  
groupings  need,  as  it  were,  to  settle  down  and  work  out  their  communicative  
proceedings  and  practices  before  they  can  be  recognized  as  discourse  
communities.  If  a  new  grouping  'borrows'  genres  from  other  discourse  
communities,  such  borrowings  have  to  be  assimilated.  .  
 
5.  In  addition  to  owning  genres,  a  discourse  community  has  acquired  
some  specific  lexis.  

  169  
  
This  specialization  may  involve  using  lexical  items  known  to  the  wider  speech  
communities  in  special  and  technical  ways,  as  in  information  technology  
discourse  communities,  or  using  highly  technical  terminology  as  in  medical  
communities.  Most  commonly,  however,  the  inbuilt  dynamic  towards  an  
increasingly  shared  and  specialized  terminology  is  realized_  through  the  
development  of  community-­‐specific  abbreviations  and  acronyms.  The  use  of  
these  (ESL,  EAP,  WAC,  NCTE,  TOEFL,etc.)  is,  of  course,  driven  by  the  
requirements  for  efficient  communication  exchange  between  "experts.  It  is  hard  
to  conceive,  at  least  in  the  contemporary,  English-­‐speaking  world,  of  a  group  of  
well-­‐established  members  of  a  discourse  community  communicating  among  
themselves  on  topics  relevant  to  the  goals  of  the  community  and  not  using  lexical  
items  puzzling  to  outsiders.  It  is  hard  to  imagine  attending  perchance  the  
convention  of  some  group  of  which  one  is  an  outsider  and  understanding  every  
word,  If  it  were  to  happen  -­‐  as  might  occur  in  the  inaugural  meeting  of  some  
quite  new  grouping  -­‐  then  that  grouping  would  not  yet  constitute  a  discourse  
community.  
 
6.  A  discourse  community  has  a·  'threshold  level  of  members  with  a  suitable  degree  
of  relevant  content  and  discoursal  expertise.  
 
Discourse  communities  have  changing  memberships;  individuals  enter  as  
apprentices  and  leave  by  death  or  in  other  less  involuntary  ways.  However,  
survival  of  the  community  depends  on  a  reasonable  ratio  between  novices  and  
experts.  
 

An  example  of  a  discourse  community  

 
As  we  have  seen,  those  interested  in  discourse  communities  have  typically  sited  
their  discussions  within  academic  contexts,  thus  possibly  creating  a  false  
impression  that  such  communities  are  only  to  be  associated  with  intellectual  
paradigms  or  scholarly  cliques.  Therefore,  for  my  principal  example  of  a  
discourse  community,  I  have  deliberately  chosen  one  that  is  not  academic,  but  
which  nevertheless  is  probably  typical  enough  of  many  others.  The  discourse  
community  is  a  hobby  group  and  has  an  'umbrella  organization'  called  the  Hong  
Kong  Study  Circle,  of  which  I  happen  to  be  a  member.  The  aims  of  the  HKSC  (note  
the  abbreviation)  are  to  foster  interest  in  and  knowledge  of  the  stamps  of  Hong  
Kong  (the  various  printings,  etc.)  and  of  their  uses  (postal  rates,  cancellations,  
etc.).  Currently  there  are  about  320  members  scattered  across  the  world,  but  
with  major  concentrations  in  Great  Britain,  the  USA  and  H.K.  (China)  itself  and  
minor  ones  in  Holland  and  Japan.  Based  on  the  membership  list,  my  guess  is  that  
about  a  third  of  the  members  are  non-­‐native  speakers  of  English  and  about  a  fifth  
women.  The  membership  varies  in  other  ways:  a  few  are  rich  and  have  acquired  
world-­‐class  collections  of  classic  rarities,  but  many  are  not  and  pursue  their  
hobby  interest  with  material  that  costs  very  little  to  acquire.  Some  are  full-­‐time  
specialist  dealers,  auctioneers  and  catalogue  publishers,  but  most  are  collectors.  
From  what  little  I  know,  the  collectors  vary  greatly  in  occupation.  One  standard  
reference  work  was  co-­‐authored  by  a  stamp  dealer  and  a  Dean  at  Yale;  another  

  170  
was  written  by  a  retired  Lieutenant-­‐Colonel.  The  greatest  authority  on  the  
nineteenth  century  carriage  of  Hong  Kong  mail,  with  three  books  to  his  credit,  
has  recently  retired  from  a  lifetime  of  service  as  a  signalman  with  British  Rail.  I  
mention  these  brief  facts  to  show  that  the  members  the  discourse  community  
have,  superficially  at  least,  nothing  in  common  except  their  shared  hobby  
interest,  although  Bizzell  (1992)  is  probably  correct  in  pointing  out  that  there  
may  be  psychological  predispositions  that  attract  particular  people  to  collecting  
and  make  them  ‘kindred  spirits’.  
 

Issues  to  consider  

 
 The  second  criterion  for  a  discourse  community  discussed  by  Swales  is  
that  members  must  have  a  means  of  intercommunication  among  
members.  He  then,  however,  gives  an  example  of  people  in  the  same  
profession  (cafe  owners)  who  do  not  necessarily  have  a  means  of  
communicating  with  one  another.  Do  you  think  this  group  constitutes  
a  discourse  community?  Why  or  why  not?  Can  you  think  of  other  
groups  that  have  a  similar  ambiguous  status  based  on  this  criterion  or  
other  criteria  listed  by  Swales?    
 
 What  groups  do  you  belong  to  that  you  think  can  be  considered  
discourse  communities?  What  genres  are  associated  with  these  
communities  and  how  do  you  learn  to  use  them?  Swales  says  the  
newly  formed  groups  take  time  to  ‘settle  down’  and  establish  
themselves  as  discourse  communities.  Can  you  think  of  any  groups  
that  are  in  the  process  of  becoming  discourse  communities  but  have  
not  yet  attained  full  status?      
 

B.    
 

The  power  and  politics  of  genre    

 

Vijay  K.  Bhatia  (reprinted  from  World  Englishes  16(3):  359-­‐371)    

 

Complexity  of  generic  forms  

 
Although  generic  forms  are  products  of  conventional  knowledge  embedded  in  
disciplinary  cultures,  they  are  dynamic  constructs.  Typical  realizations  of  these  
institutionalized  forms  are  often  characterized  by  their  generic  integrity,  on  the  
one  hand,  and  their  propensity  for  innovation,  on  the  other  (see  Bhatia,  1993,  
1995).  These  two  aspects  of  genre  may  appear  to  be  somewhat  contradictory  at  
first,  but  as  we  shall  soon  discover,  these  two  characteristics  are  complementary  
to  each  other.  In  fact,  it  will  not  be  inaccurate  to  suggest  that  one  is,  in  a  way,  an  
essential  prerequisite  to  the  other.  Generic  integrity  is  the  product  of  the  
conventional  features  of  a  specific  generic  construct.  Although  these  conventions  

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are  embedded  in  the  rhetorical  context,  they  often  constrain  the  use  of  linguistic  
resources  (lexico-­‐grammatical  as  well  as  discoursal),  and  are  frequently  invoked    
to  arrive  at  a  reasonable  interpretation  of  the  genre  or  even  determine  the  choice  
of  the  genre  to  suit  a  particular  context.  Within  generic  boundaries,  experienced  
users  of  genre  often  manage  to  exercise  considerable  freedom  to  manipulate  
generic  conventions  to  respond  to  novel  situations,  to  mix  what  Bhatia  (1993)  
calls  'private  intentions'  with  socially  recognized  communicative  purposes,  and  
even  to  produce  new  forms  of  discourse.  
 
Therefore  the  tension  between  conformity  and  creativity,  so  often  made  an  issue  
of  in  applied  discourse  studies,  is  not  necessarily  real.  As  Dubrow  (1982:  39)  
points  out,  'a  concern  for  generic  traditions,  far  from  precluding  originality,  often  
helps  to  produce  it.'  Similarly,  Fowler  (1982:  31)  points  out:  
 
Far  from  inhibiting  the  author,  genres  are  a  positive  support.  They  offer  
room,  as  one  might  say,  for  him  to  write  in  -­‐  a  habitation  of  mediated  
definiteness,  a  proportioned  mental  space;  a  literary  matrix  by  to  order  
his  experience  during  composition  ...  The  writer  is  invited  to  match  
experience  and  form  in  a  specific  yet  undetermined  way.  Accepting  the  
invitation  does  not  solve  his  problems  of  expression  ...  But  it  gives  him  
access  to  formal  ideas  as  to  how  a  variety  of  constituents  might  suitably  
be  combined.  Genre  also  offers  a  challenge  by  provoking  a  free  spirit  to  
transcend  the  limitations  of  previous  examples.  
 
In  fact,  a  subtle  exploitation  of  a  certain  aspect  of  generic  construct  is  always  
seen  as  tactically  superior  and  effective.  It  is  almost  like  the  advertiser's  
exploitation  of  the  cliché  the  shape  of  things  to  come  in  the  following  opening    
headline  of  an  advertisement  for  a  car.    
 
The  shape  of  things  to  come:  Mitsubishi  Cordia  
 
Or,  the  use  of  the  famous  statement  about  the  British  colonial  empire  in  the  
Lufthansa  advertisment  The  sun  never  sets  on  Lufthansa  territory,  or  in  the  
following  slogan  for  energy  conservation,  which  says,  Don't  be  fuelish,  where  the  
whole  idea  of  waste  of  energy  is  lost  unless  it  is  associated  with  'Don't  be  foolish.'    
 
The  whole  point  about  such  associations  is  that  they  communicate  best  in  the  
context  of  what  is  already  familiar.  In  such  contexts,  words  on  their  own  carry  no  
meanings;  it  is  the  experience  which  gives  them  the  desired  effect.  Therefore,  if  
one  is  not  familiar  with  the  original,  the  value  of  the  novel  expression  is  
undermined.  Just  as  the  advertiser  makes  use  of  the  well-­‐known  and  the  familiar  
in  existing  knowledge,  a  clever  genre  writer  makes  use  of  what  is  conventionally  
available  to  a  discourse  community  to  further  his  or  her  own  subtle  ends.  The  
innovation,  the  creativity  or  the  exploitation  becomes  effective  only  in  the  
context  of  the  already  available  and  familiar.  The  main  focus  of  this  paper  is  on  
these  two  interrelated  aspects  of  genre  theory,  i.e.,  the  constraints  on  generic  
construction,  a  pre-­‐knowledge  of  which  gives  power  to  insiders  in  specific  
discourse  communities,  and  the  exploitation  of  this  power  by  experienced  and  
expert  members  of  such  disciplinary  cultures  to  achieve  their  'private  intentions'  

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within  'socially  recognized  communicative  purposes.'  
 
Organizational  preferences  and  generic  controls  
 
The  other  interesting  area  of  generic  variation,  although  within  a  restricted  
range,  one  finds  in  organizational  preferences.  In  the  case  of  academic  
publications,  we  often  come  across  what  we  commonly  refer  to  as  housestyles.  
Although  every  single  journal  claims  to  have  its  own  style  sheet,  most  of  them  
can  be  characterized  more  by  their  overlap  rather  than  variation.  
 
Similarly,  in  the  case  of  newspaper  genres,  especially  the  news  reports  and  the  
editorials,  we  find  an  unmistakable  'generic  identity'  (Bhatia,  1993)  in  almost  all  
of  the  exploits  of  these  genres  from  various  newspapers,  although  all  of  them  
have  their  own  preferences  in  terms  of  style,  stance  and  substance.  Some  may  be  
more  objective,  while  others  more  interpretative;  some  more  socially  
responsible,  while  others  more  sensational.  In  spite  of  all  these  differences,  most  
of  them  display  common  characteristics  in  terms  of  their  use  of  generic  
resources,  in  terms  of  their  structure,  interpretation  and  communication  of  
intentions.  These  somewhat  different  orientations  to  the  events  of  the  day  do  not  
make  their  stories  very  different  in  terms  of  their  generic  form.  
 
Even  in  the  case  of  business  communities,  we  often  find  different  organizations  
displaying  their  unique  identities  through  their  organizational  preferences  in  the  
matters  of  their  choice  of  generic  forms,  but  the  broad  range  of  genres  they  tend  
to  exploit  to  further  their  organizational  objectives  show  remarkable  similarities  
rather  than  differences.  
 
All  these  areas  of  generic  use  indicate  that  although  their  preferred  generic  
forms  show  a  subtle  degree  of  variation  for  what  could  be  seen  as  'tactical  
advantage,'  they  never  disregard  some  of  the  basic  features  of  individual  generic  
constructs,  which  give  these  genres  their  essential  identities.  
 

The  Power  of  Genre  

 
There  is  no  better  illustration  of  the  saying  'knowledge  is  power'  than  the  one  in  
the  case  of  generic  power.  Power  to  use,  interpret,  exploit  and  innovate  novel  
generic  forms  is  the  function  of  generic  knowledge  which  is  accessible  only  to  the  
members  of  disciplinary  communities.  
 
Maintaining  generic  integrity:  editorial  intervention  
 
In  some  forms  of  academic  discourse,  especially  the  research  articles,  one  can  
see  generally  two  kinds  of  mechanism  in  place  to  ensure  generic  integrity:  the  
peer  review  process,  and  editorial  intervention.  Both  these  mechanisms,  though  
operating  at  different  levels,  are  actively  invoked  to  ensure  that  all  accounts  of  
new  knowledge  conform  to  the  standards  of  institutionalized  behaviour  that  is  
expected  by  a  community  of  established  peers  in  a  specific  discipline.  Although  
individual  judgements  can  vary  within  the  membership  of  specific  disciplinary  

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communities,  a  high  degree  of  consensus  is  often  ensured  by  selecting  like-­‐
minded  scholars  from  within  well-­‐defined  disciplinary  boundaries.  
 
After  peer  review,  the  second  most  important  intervention  comes  from  the  
editors,  who  enjoy  all  the  power  one  can  imagine  to  maintain  the  identity  and  
integrity  of  the  research  article  genre.  Berkenkotter  and  Huckin  (1995)  
document  an  in-­‐depth  and  fascinating  study  of  this  kind  of  editorial  control  to  
maintain  generic  integrity.  They  point  out  that  for  the  construction  and  
dissemination  of  knowledge  'textual  activity'  is  as  important  as  the  'scientific  
activity.'  
 
Generic  conventions  as  authority:  the  case  of  citations  and  references  
 
To  us  academics,  the  power  of  genre  is  nowhere  better  illustrated  than  in  the  
publication  of  research  articles.  Swales  in  his  research  report  Aspects  of  Research  
Article  Introductions  (1981)  was  the  first  one  to  point  out  the  importance  of  the  
description  of  previous  research  on  the  rhetorical  activity  of  knowledge  
dissemination  as  distinct  from  knowledge  creation.  In  order  to  become  
acceptable  to  the  specialist  community  of  fellow  researchers,  one  must  relate  his  
or  her  knowledge  claims  to  the  accumulated  knowledge  of  the  discipline,  without  
which  his  or  her  claims  in  the  field  are  unlikely  to  find  recognition  through  
publication.  
 
Power  to  innovate  (mixing  and  embedding)  
 
Although  this  pressure  for  the  'democratisation'  (Fairclough,  1992)  of  discourse  
is  becoming  increasingly  intense  in  some  countries,  especially  in  the  USA,  it  is  
unlikely  to  make  a  significant  dent  in  the  so-­‐called  integrity  of  professional  
genres,  at  least  not  in  the  foreseeable  future.  However,  one  can  see  an  increasing  
'fragmentation  of  discursive  norms  and  conventions'  (Fairclough,  1992:  221),  
often  leading  to  genre-­‐mixing  and  embedding  in  institutionalized  orders  of  
discourse  (see  Bhatia,  1994,  for  a  detailed  discussion  of  this),  on  the  one  hand,  
and  creation  of  new  genres,  on  the  other.  To  a  large  extent,  these  changes  in  
discursive  practices  are  making  professional  genres  increasingly  dynamic  and  
complex.  
 
The  dynamic  complexity  of  academic  and  professional  communication  is  further  
increased  by  the  role  of  multimedia,  the  explosion  of  information  technology,  the  
multidisciplinary  contexts  of  the  world  of  work,  the  increasingly  competitive  
professional  environment,  and  above  all,  the  overwhelmingly  compulsive  nature  
of  promotional  and  advertising  activities,  so  much  so  that  our  present-­‐day  world  
of  work  is  being  increasingly  identified  as  a  'consumer  culture'  (Featherstone,  
1991).  The  inevitable  result  of  this  is  that  many  of  the  institutionalized  genres,  
whether  they  are  social,  professional  or  academic,  are  seen  as  incorporating  
elements  of  promotion.  Fairclough  (1992:  207)  rightly  associates  some  of  these  
changes  with  what  he  calls  'commodification'  of  institutional  orders  of  discourse.    
 
Referring  to  such  changes  in  discourse  practices,  he  (1993:  141)  points  out,  ...  
there  is  an  extensive  restructuring  of  boundaries  between  orders  of  discourse  

  174  
and  between  discursive  practices,  for  example,  the  genre  of  consumer  
advertising  has  been  colonising  professional  and  public  service  orders  of  
discourse  on  a  massive  scale,  generating  many  new  hybrid  partly  promotional  
genres  ...  As  an  instance  of  such  a  hybrid  genre,  Fairclough  (1993)  discusses  the  
case  of  contemporary  university  prospectuses,  where  he  highlights  an  increasing  
tendency  towards  marketization  of  the  discursive  practices  of  British  
universities.  Bhatia  (1995),  in  his  discussion  of  genre-­‐mixing  in  professional  
discourse,  gives  examples  from  several  settings,  where  genre-­‐mixing  and  
embedding  is  becoming  increasingly  common.  He  also  mentions  several  
instances  where  one  may  find  an  increasing  use  of  promotional  strategies  in  
genres  which  are  traditionally  considered  non-­‐promotional  in  intent,  especially  
academic  introductions,  including  book  introductions,  forewords,  prefaces  of  
various  kinds,  which  are  becoming  increasingly  difficult  to  distinguish  from  
publishers'  blurbs.    
 
Shared  knowledge  -­  privileged  access/insider  information  
 
If  generic  conventions,  on  the  one  hand,  give  suitable  expression  to  the  
communicative  intentions  of  genre  writers  (who  are  members  of  a  particular  
discourse  community),  on  the  other  hand,  they  also  match  their  intentions  
against  their  intended  reader's  expectations.  This  is  possible  only  when  all  the  
participants  share,  not  only  the  code,  but  also  the  knowledge  of  the  genre,  which  
includes  the  knowledge  of  its  construction,  interpretation  and  use.  A  necessary  
implication  of  this  shared  genre  knowledge  is  that  it  is  not  routinely  available  to  
the  outsiders,  which  creates  a  kind  of  social  distance  between  the  legitimate  
members  of  a  discourse  community  and  those  who  are  considered  outsiders.    
 
Although  this  creates  conditions  of  homogeneity  between  the  insiders,  at  the  
same  time  it  also  increases  social  distance  between  them  and  the  outsiders,  
sometimes  resulting  in  disastrous  consequences  for  the  one  who  does  not  have  
access  to  such  shared  knowledge.  This  shared  knowledge  could  be  in  the  form  of  
linguistic  resources  used  to  construct  a  generic  form,  or  it  could  be  in  the  
awareness  of  the  rules  of  language  use,  some  of  which  are  socially  learnt,  as  the  
ones  associated  with  classroom  discourse  and  academic  genres,  while  others  can  
be  legally  enforced,  such  as  the  ones  associated  with  courtroom  procedures.  
Maintaining  solidarity  within  a  professional  community  
 
One  of  the  most  noticeable  characteristics  of  any  professional  or  academic  
discourse  community  is  the  availability  and  typical  use  of  a  range  of  appropriate  
genres,  which  their  members  think  serve  the  goals  of  their  community.  The  
recurrent  use  of  such  discoursal  forms  create  solidarity  within  its  membership  
giving  them  their  most  powerful  weapon  to  keep  the  outsiders  at  a  safe  distance.  
Hudson  (1979:  1)  rightly  claims,  
 
If  one  wished  to  kill  a  profession,  to  remove  its  cohesion  and  its  strength,  
the  most  effective  way  would  be  to  forbid  the  use  of  its  characteristic  
language.  
 
In  this  context,  it  is  hardly  surprising  that  most  of  the  attempts  by  the  powerful  

  175  
reformist  lobbies  in  many  Western  democracies  to  introduce  plain  English  in  
legislative  contexts  are  seen  as  imposition  from  outside  and  have  been  firmly  
rejected  by  the  professional  legal  community.  
 

Issues  to  consider  

 
 According  to  Bhatia,  genres  are  defined  by  the  tension  between  their  
‘generic  integrity’  and  their  potential  for  innovation.  IN  fact,  he  argues  
that  these  two  aspects  of  genre  work  together:  that  generic  
conventions  provide  the  basis  for  innovation.  What  happens  when  
genres  loose  their  generic  integrity?  What  happens  when  they  loose  
their  propensity  for  innovation?    
 
  ‘There  is  no  better  illustration  of  the  saying  “knowledge  is  power'”,’  
says  Bhatia,  ‘than  the  one  in  the  case  of  generic  power.’  This  is  
particularly  true,  he  says,  when  it  comes  to  professional  genres.  Can  
you  think  of  examples  of  how  the  power  to  use,  interpret  and  innovate  
particular  genres  allows  certain  people  to  exert  power  or  control  over  
other  people?  

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D4  IDEOLOGIES  IN  DISCOURSE  
The  excerpts  presented  in  this  section  discuss  some  of  the  basic  conceptual  and  
analytical  tools  you  can  use  to  do  critical  discourse  analysis.  The  first  is  from  
Norman  Fairclough’s  Discoruse  and  social  change,  one  of  the  classic  works  in  
discourse  analysis  devoted  to  the  study  of  discourse  and  ideology.  In  this  excerpt  
Fairclough  explains  the  concept  of  intertextuality  and  its  relationship  with  
ideology.  The  second  excerpt  is  from  James  Paul  Gee’s  book  Social  linguistics  and  
literacies.  In  this  excerpt  Gee  also  takes  up  the  topic  of  intertextuality,  or,  as  he  
calls  it,  heteroglossia,  in  his  analysis  of  a  label  on  an  aspirin  bottle.  He  also  
discusses  ‘cultural  models’  (see  Section  A4)  and  their  relationship  to  power  and  
ideology.    
 

A.    
Intertextuality  
 
Norman  Fairclough  (reprinted  from  Discourse  and  Social  Change,  Cambridge:  Polity  
Press,  1992,  pp.  101-­‐2).    
 
The  term  ‘intertextuality’  was  coined  by  Kristeva  in  the  late  1960s  in  the  context  
of  her  influential  accounts  for  western  audiences  of  the  work  of  Bakhtin  (see  
Kristeva  1986a,  actually  written  in  1966).  Although  the  term  is  not  Bakhtin's,  the  
development  of  an  intertextual  (or  in  his  own  terms  ‘translinguistic’)  approach  to  
analysis  of  texts  was  a  major  theme  of  his  work  throughout  his  academic  career,  
and  was  closely  linked  to  other  important  issues  including  his  theory  of  genre  
(see  Bakhtin  1986,  a  paper  he  wrote  in  the  early  1950s).  
 
Bakhtin  points  to  the  relative  neglect  of  the  communicative  functions  of  language  
within  mainstream  linguistics,  and  more  specifically  to  the  neglect  of  ways  in  
which  texts  and  utterances  are  shaped  by  prior  texts  that  they  are  ‘responding’  
to,  and  by  subsequent  texts  that  they  ‘anticipate’.  For  Bakhtin,  all  utterances,  
both  spoken  and  written,  from  the  briefest  of  turns  in  a  conversation  to  a  
scientific  paper  or  a  novel,  are  demarcated  by  a  change  of  speaker  (or  writer),  
and  are  oriented  retrospectively  to  the  utterances  of  previous  speakers  (be  they  
turns,  scientific  articles,  or  novels)  and  prospectively  to  the  anticipated  
utterances  of  the  next  speakers.  Thus  ‘each  utterance  is  a  link  in  the  chain  of  
speech  communication.  ‘All  utterances  are  populated,  and  indeed  constituted,  by  
snatches  of  others’  utterances,  more  or  less  explicit  or  complete:  ‘our  speech  ...  is  
filled  with  others’  words,  varying  degrees  of  otherness  and  varying  degrees  of  
"our-­‐own-­‐ness",  varying  degrees  of  awareness  and  detachment.  These  words  of  
others  carry  with  them  their  own  expression,  their  own  evaluative  tone,  which  
we  assimilate,  rework,  and  reaccentuate'  (Bakhtin  1986:  89).  That  is  utterances-­‐-­‐  
'texts'  in  my  terms-­‐-­‐  are  inherently  intertextual,  constituted  by  elements  of  other  
texts.  Foucault  adds  the  refinement  of  distinguishing  within  the  intertextual  aura  
of  a  text  different  ‘fields’  of  ‘presence’,  'concomitance',  and  memory.  
 

  177  
The  salience  of  the  concept  of  intertextuality  in  the  framework  I  am  developing  
accords  with  my  focus  upon  discourse  and  social  change.  Kristeva  observes  that  
intertextuality  implies  ‘the  insertion  of  history  (society)  into  a  text  and  of  this  
text  into  history'  (1986a:  39).  By  ‘the  insertion  of  history  into  a  text,  she  means  
that  the  text  absorbs  and  is  built  out  of  texts  from  the  past  (texts  being  the  major  
artefacts  that  constitute  history).  By  ‘the  insertion  of  the  text  into  history’,  she  
means  that  the  text  responds  to,  reaccentuates,  and  reworks  past  texts,  and  in  so  
doing  helps  to  make  history  and  contributes  to  wider  processes  of  change,  as  
well  as  anticipating  and  trying  to  shape  subsequent  texts.  This  inherent  
historicity  of  texts  enables  them  to  take  on  the  major  roles  they  have  in  
contemporary  soclety.  at  the  leading  edge  of  social  and  cultural  change.  The  
rapid  transformation  and  restructuring  of  textual  traditions  and  orders  of  
discourse  is  a  strong  contemporary  phenomenon,  which  suggests  that  
intertextuality  ought  to  be  a  major  focus  in  discourse  analysis.  
 

Issues  to  consider  

 
 In  this  excerpt,  Fairclough  quotes  Kristiva  as  saying  that  
intertextuality  involves  ‘the  insertion  of  history  (society)  into  a  text  
and  of  this  text  into  history.’  How  do  you  interpret  this  statement?  
What  role  can  texts  play  in  affecting  the  way  we  interpret  past  events  
and  past  texts?  What  role  can  they  play  in  affecting  future  events,  that  
is,  creating  social  change?    

B.  
 

Ideology,  Social  Languages  and  Cultural  Models  

 
James  Paul  Gee  (reprinted  from  Social  Linguistics  and  Literacies,  London:  Taylor  and  
Francis,  1996,  pp.  69-­‐79)  
 

Heteroglossia  
 
It  is  important  to  extend  our  discussion  of  social  languages  by  pointing  out  that  
they  are  very  often  'impure  '.  That  is,  when  we  speak  or  write,  we  very  often  mix  
together  different  social  languages.  This  is  a  practice  that  the  Russian  literary  
theorist  Mikhail  Bakhtin  (1981,  1986)  called  heteroglossia  (multiple  voices)…    
To  see  a  clear  example  of  such  heteroglossia,  and  its  ties  to  sociopolitical  
realities,  consider  the  following  warning(s)  taken  from  a  bottle  of  aspirin.  
.  
Warnings:  Children  and  teenagers  should  not  use  this  medication  for  
chicken  pox  or  flu  symptoms  before  a  doctor  is  consulted  about  Reye  
Syndrome,  a  rare  but  serious  illness  reported  to  be  associated  with  
aspirin.  Keep  this  and  all  drugs  out  of  the  reach  of  children.  In  case  of  
accidental  overdose,  seek  professional  assistance  or  contact  a  poison  
control  center  immediately.  As  with  any  drug,  if  you  are  pregnant  or  
nursing  a  baby,  seek  the  advice  of  a  health  professional  before  using  this  

  178  
 product.  IT  IS  ESPECIALLY  IMPORTANT  NOT  TO  USE  ASPIRIN  DURING  
THE  LAST  3  MONTHS  OF  PREGNANCY  UNLESS  SPECIFICALLY  DIRECTED  
TO  DO  SO  BY  A  DOCTOR  BECAUSE  IT  MAY  CAUSE  PROBLEMS  IN  THE    
UNBORN  CHILD  OR  COMPLICATIONS  DURING  DELIVERY,  See  carton  for  
arthritis  use  and  Important  Notice.    
 
This  text  starts  with  a  sentence  of  very  careful  and  very  specific  
information  indeed:  the  initial  sentence  talks  (in  bold)  about  'children  and  
teenagers';  it  specially  says  'this  medication';  gives  us  an  exclusive  list  of  two  
relevant  diseases,  'chicken  pox  or  flu  ';  mentions  a  specific  syndrome,  Reye  
Syndrome,  and  explicitly  tells  us  that  it  is  'rare  but  serious'.  Then,  all  of  a  sudden,  
with  the  second  sentence  we  enter  a  quite  different  sort  of  language,  marked  
both  by  the  phrasing  and  by  the  disappearance  of  the  bold  print.  Now,  the  text  
talks  not  about  aspirin  specifically,  as  in  the  first  sentence,  but  about  'this  and  all  
drugs'  (second  sentence)  and  'any  drug'  (fourth  sentence).  We  are  told  to  keep  
'this  and  all  drugs'  out  of  the  reach  of'  children',  but  what  now  has  happened  to  
the  teenagers?  We  get  three  different  references  to  the  medical  profession,  none  
of  them  as  direct  and  specific  as  'doctor'  (which  was  used  in  the  first  sentence):  
'professional  assistance',  'poison  control  center',  and  'health  professional'.  We  
are  told  to  seek  help  in  case  of  'accidental  overdose',  making  us  wonder  what  
should  happen  if  the  overdose  was  not  accidental.  The  language  of  this  middle  
part  of  the  text  speaks  out  of  a  (seemingly  not  all  that  dangerous)  world  where  
institutional  systems  (companies,  professionals,  centers)  take  care  of  people  who  
only  through  ignorance  (which  these  systems  can  cure)  get  themselves  into  
trouble.  Then,  all  of  a  sudden,  again,  we  make  a  transition  back  to  the  social  
language  of  the  opening  of  the  text,  but  this  time  it  is  shouted  at  us  in  bold  
capitals.  We  are  confronted  with  the  phrase  'especially  important'.  We  return  to  
quite  specific  language:  we  again  get  'aspirin',  rather  than  'all  drugs'  or  'any  
drug',  time  is  handled  quite  specifically  ('last  3  months'),  we  no  longer  'seek  
assistance  or  advice'  from  'professionals',  rather  we  once  again  consult  with  our  
'doctor'  and  do  not  take  the  aspirin  'unless  specifically  directed'.  This  is,  once  
again,  a  dangerous  world  in  which  we  had  better  do  what  (and  only  what)  the  
doctor  says.  This  dire  warning  about  pregnancy,  however,  does  make  us  wonder  
why  a  rather  general  and  gentle  warning  about  pregnancy  and  nursing  is  
embedded  in  the  more  moderate  language  of  the  middle  of  the  text.  The  text  
ends  with  small  print,  which  appears  to  tell  us  to  look  on  the  carton  for  an  
'Important  Notice'  (weren't  these  'warnings'  the  important  notice?).  
 
So,  in  this  text  we  have  at  least  two  rather  different  social  languages  (voices)  
intermingled,  juxtaposed  rather  uncomfortably  side  by  side.  Why?  At  one  time,  
the  aspirin  bottle  had  only  the  middle  text  (sentences  2,  3,  and  4)  on  it  as  a  
'warning'  (singular).  Various  medical,  social,  cultural,  and  political  changes,  
including  conflicts  between  and  among  governmental  institutions,  medical  
workers,  consumers,  and  drug  companies,  have  led  to  the  intrusion  of  the  more  
direct  and  sharper  voice  that  begins  and  ends  the  'warnings'.  Thus,  we  see,  the  
different  social  languages  in  this  text  are  sedimented  there  by  social,  political,  
and  cultural  happenings  unfolding  in  history.  In  fact,  even  what  looks  like  a  
uniform  social  language  -­‐  for  example,  the  moderate  middle  of  this  text  -­‐  is  very  
often  a  compendium  of  different  social  languages  with  different  historical,  social,  

  179  
cultural,  and  political  sources,  and  looks  to  us  now  to  be  uniform  only  because  
the  workings  of  multiple  social  languages  have  been  forgotten  and  effaced.  
 

Similarity  in  the  'Eye  of  the  Beholder'  

 
One  of  the  key  ways  humans  think  about  the  world  is  through  seeking  out  
similarities  (Hofstadter  and  the  fluid  Analogies  Research  Group  1995;  Holyoak  
and  Thagard  1995).  We  try  to  understand  something  new  in  terms  of  how  it  
resembles  something  old.  We  attempt  to  see  the  new  thing  as  a  type,  thus,  like  
other  things  of  the  same  or  similar  type.  And  very  often  a  great  deal  hangs  on  
these  judgments:  for  example,  is  spanking  a  child  a  type  of  discipline  or  a  type  of  
child  abuse?  When  we  answer  this  question  we  claim  either  that  spanking  a  child  
is  more  similar  to  paradigmatic  instances  of  discipline  or  to  paradigmatic  
instances  of  child  abuse.  
 
Judgments  like  whether  spanking  is  discipline  or  child  abuse  are  still  'open'  and  
widely  discussed  in  the  culture  thanks  to  on-­‐going  social  changes.  However,  any  
language  is  full  of  such  similarity  judgments  that  have  been  made  long  ago  in  the  
history  of  the  language  -­‐  in  another  time  and  another  place  -­‐  and  which  are  now  
taken  for  granted  and  rarely  reflected  upon  by  current  speakers  of  the  language.  
Let  me  take  another  example  that  is  relevant  to  those  of  us  interested  in  
language  and  learning.  Consider  a  sentence  like  'The  teacher  taught  the  students  
French'  (see  also  Birch  1989:  pp.  25-­‐29;  Halliday  1976).  This  sentence  has  the  
same  grammar  as  (the  language  treats  it  the  same  as)  sentences  like  john  handed  
Mary  the  gun',  john  gave  Mary  the  gun',  John  sent  Mary  the  gun',  and  many  more.  
This  type  of  sentence  seems  to  mean  (if  we  consider  prototypical  cases  like  'give',  
'hand',  and  'send')  that  an  agent  transfers  something  to  someone.  
 
And  so  we  are  led  to  think  of  teaching  French  as  transferring  something  (French)  
from  one  person  (the  teacher)  to  someone  else  (the  student),  though  this  
transfer  is  a  mental  one,  rather  than  a  physical  one.  This  suggestion  (about  the  
meaning  of  teaching  languages),  which  we  pick  up  from  our  grammar,  happens  
to  fit  with  one  of  the  most  pervasive  ways  of  thinking,  (what  I  will  later  call  a  
master  myth)  embedded  in  our  language  and  in  culture.  We  tend  to  think  of  
meaning  as  something  speakers  or  writers  take  out  of  their  heads  (its  original  
container),  package,  like  a  gift,  into  a  package  or  container  (i.e.,  words  and  
sentences)  and  convey  (transfer)  to  hearers,  who  unpackage  it  and  place  its  
contents  (j.e.,  'meaning')  into  their  heads  (its  final  container).  
 
This  container/conveyor  metaphor  (Lakoff  and  Johnson  1980;  Reddy  
1979)  is,  as  we  will  see  below,  a  fallacious  view  of  meaning.  It  gives  rise  to  
idioms  like  'I  catch  your  meaning',  'I  can't  grasp  what  you  are  saying',  'I've  got  
it',  'Let  me  put  the  matter  in  plain  terms',  'I  can't  put  this  into  words',  and  a  great  
many  more.  So,  it  is  easy  for  us  to  accept  the  suggestion  of  our  grammar  and  see  
teaching  languages  as  a  form  of  mental  transference  of  neatly  wrapped  little  
packages  (drills,  grammar  lessons,  vocabulary  lists)  along  a  conveyor  belt  from  
teacher  to  student.  
 

  180  
At  a  more  subtle  level,  the  fact  that  'The  teacher  teaches  the  students  French'  has  
the  same  grammar  as  'The  teacher  teaches  the  students  history  (physics,  
linguistics,  algebra),  suggests  that  teaching  a  language  (like  French)  is  a  
comparable  activity  to  teaching  a  disciplinary'  content  like  physics  (Halliday  
1976).  Our  schools,  with  their  classrooms,  curricula,  discrete  class  hours  (five  
times  a  week  for  an  hour  we  learn  French),  encourage  us  further  to  think  that,  
since  all  these  teachers  are  standing  in  the  same  sort  of  space,  playing  the  same  
sort  of  role  in  the  system,  they  could  be  or  even  must  be  doing  the  same  (sort  of)  
thing.  
 
We  note,  as  well,  that  the  driving  teacher  spends  too  much  time  in  a  car  and  the  
coach  spends  too  much  time  on  the  field  to  be  respected  as  teachers.  
Note,  too,  that  we  don't  say  things  like  'The  coach  teaches  football'  –  football  
cannot  be  taught,  one  can  only  help  someone  master  it  in  a  group  with  other  
apprentices.  Our  mental  model  of  teaching  makes  us  compare  'teaching  French'  
to  'teaching  history'  and  not  to  'coaching  football'  or  'training  someone  to  drive',  
despite  the  fact  that  it  may  well  be  that  learning  a  language  is  a  lot  more  like  
learning  to  drive  a  car  or  play  football  than  it  is  like  learning  history  or  physics.  
 
What  we  see  here,  then,  is  that  language  encapsulates  a  great  many  frozen  
theories  (generalizations  about  what  is  similar  to  what)  -­‐  we  have  just  witnessed  
frozen  theories  of  communication  and  language  acquisition.  We  do  not  have  to  
accept  the  theories  our  various  social  languages  offer  us.  Though  we  can  hardly  
reflect  on  them  all,  we  can  reflect  on  some  of  them  and  come  to  see  things  in  new  
ways  
 

Meaning  
 
Having  established  the  context  of  social  languages,  we  can  turn  directly  to  
meaning.  Meaning  is  one  of  the  most  debated  terms  in  linguistics,  philosophy,  
literary  theory,  and  the  social  sciences.  To  start  our  discussion  of  meaning,  let  
us  pick  a  word  and  ask  what  it  means.  Say  we  ask:  'What  does  the  word  sofa  
mean?'  
 
Imagine  that  my  friend  Susan  and  I  go  into  my  living  room,  where  I  have  a  small  
white,  rather  broken  down  seat  big  enough  for  more  than  one  person,  and  a  
larger  and  nicer  one.  I  point  to  the  larger,  nicer  one  and  say,  'That  sofa  has  a  stain  
on  it.'  Susan  sees  nothing  exceptional  about  what  I  have  said,  assumes  we  both  
mean  the  same  thing  by  the  word  'sofa',  and  points  to  the  smaller  object,  saying,  
'Well,  that  sofa  has  a  lot  more  stains  on  it.'  I  say,  'That's  not  a  sofa,  it's  a  settee.'  
Now  Susan  realizes  that  she  and  I  do  not,  in  fact,  mean  the  same  thing  by  the  
word  'sofa'.  
 
"Why?  The  reason  is  that  I  am  making  a  distinction  between  two  words,  'sofa'  
and  'settee',  where  something  is  either  the  one  or  the  other,  and  not  both,  while  
Susan  does  not  make  such  a  distinction,  either  because  she  does  not  have  the  
word  'settee'  or  because  she  uses  it  in  the  same  way  as  she  uses  'sofa'.  When  I  
use  the  word  'sofa',  I  mean  it  to  exclude  the  word  'settee'  as  applicable;  when  I  

  181  
use  the  word  'settee',  I  mean  it  to  exclude  the  word  'sofa'.  Susan,  of  course,  does  
not  exactly  know  the  basis  on  which  I  make  the  distinction  between  'sofa'  and  
'settee'  (how  and  why  I  distinguish  'sofa'  and  'settee'),  a  matter  to  which  we  will  
turn  in  the  next  section.  
 
Now  someone  else,  Kris,  comes  in,  having  overheard  our  conversation,  and  says,  
'That's  not  a  settee,  nor  a  sofa,  it's  a  divan.'  I  and  Susan  now  realize  that  when  
Kris  uses  the  word  'divan',  she  distinguishes  among  the  words  'sofa',  'settee',  and  
'divan'.    
 
Now,  assume  that  I  say  ‘Well  they  are  both  couches,'  and  we  all  agree  on  this.  
This  shows  that  my  use  of  the  word  'couch'  does  not  exclude'  sofa'  or  'settee'  as  
(also  possibly)  applicable,  nor  do  these  words  exclude  'couch',  though  they  
exclude  each  other.  And  for  Susan  and  Kris  the  use  of  the  word  'couch'  does  not  
exclude  their  other  words  (which  are  different  than  mine),  nor  do  their  other  
words  exclude  'couch'  (though  their  other  words  exclude  each  other).  Thus,  by  
default  almost,  we  mean  (pretty  much)  the  same  thing  by'  couch'.    
 
What  is  emerging  here  is  that  what  we  mean  by  a  word  depends  on  which  other  
words  we  have  available  to  us  and  which  other  words  our  use  of  the  word  (e.g.,  
'sofa')  is  meant  to  exclude  or  not  exclude  as  possibly  also  applying  (e.g.,  'sofa'  
excludes  'settee',  but  not  'couch').  It  also  depends  on  which  'Words  are  'available'  
to  me  in  a  given  situation.  For  example,  I  may  sometimes  use  the  word  'love  seat',  
which  I  consider  a  type  of  settee,  but  in.  the  above  situation  with  Susan  and  Kris  I  
may  have  not  viewed  this  as  a  possible  choice,  perhaps  because  I  am  reluctant  to  
use  the  term  in  front  of  close  friends  who  might  think  it  too  'fancy’.  This  is  to  say  
that  I  am  currently  using  a  social  language  in  which  'love  seat  is  not  available.  
 
The  sorts  of  factors  we  have  seen  thus  far  in  our  discussion  of  'sofa'  reflect  
one  central  principle  involved  in  meaning,  a  principle  I  will  call  the  exclusion  
principle.  Susan,  Kris,  and  I  all  have  the  word  'sofa',  but  it  means  different'  
things  to  each  of  us  because  each  of  has  a  different  set  of  related  words.  The  
exclusion  principle  says  that  the  meaning  of  a  word  is  (in  part  –  there  are  other  
principles)  a  matter  of  what  other  words  my  use  of  a  given  word  in  a  given  
situation  is  intended  to  exclude  or  not  exclude  as  also  possibly  applicable  
(though  not  actually  used  in  this  case).  Meaning  is  always  (in  part)  
a  matter  of  intended  exclusions  and  exclusions  (contrasts  and  lack  of  contrasts)  
within  the  assumed  semantic  field.    
 
*  

Cultural  Models  as  the  Basis  of  Meaning  Choices  and  Guesses  
 
So  far  I  have  left  out  one  crucial  principle  of  meaning.  This  is  the  principle  that  
determines  what  I  have  called  the  basis  of  the  distinctions  we  make  (e.g.,  'sofa'  
versus  'settee',  with  'couch'  applicable  to  both).  Why  do  we  mean  the  way  we  do?  
 
To  get  at  what  constitutes  the  basis  of  our  choices  and  assumptions  in  the  use  of  
words,  let  us  consider  what  the  word  'bachelor'  means  (Fillmore  1975;  Quinn  

  182  
and  Holland  1987).  All  of  us  think  we  know  what  the  word  means.  Dictionaries  
say  it  means  'an  unmarried  man'  (Webster  Handy  College  Dictionary,  1972),  
because  it  seems  clear  that  in  most  contexts  in  which  the  word  is  used  it  excludes  
as  applicable  words  like  'woman',  'girl',  'boy',  and  'married':  Let  me  ask  you,  then,  
is  the  Pope  a  bachelor?  Is  a  thrice-­‐divorced  man  a  bachelor?  Is  a  young  man  who  
has  been  in  an  irreversible  coma  since  childhood  a  bachelor?  What  about  a  
eunuch?  A  committed  gay  man?  An  elderly  senile  gentleman  who  has  never  been  
married?  The  answer  to  all  these  questions  is  either  'no'  or  'I'm  not  sure'  (as  I  
have  discovered  by  asking  a  variety  of  people).  Why?  Alter  all,  all  these  people  
are  unmarried  men.    
 
The  reason  why  the  answer  to  these  questions  is  'no',  despite  the  fact  that  they  
all  involve  cases  of  clearly  unmarried  males,  is  that  in  using  the  word  'bachelor'  
we  are  making  exclusions  we  are  unaware  of  and  are  assuming  that  the  contexts  
in  which  we  use  the  word  are  clear  and  transparent  when  they  are  not.  Context  
has  the  nasty  habit  of  almost  always  seeming  clear,  transparent,  and  
unproblematic,  when  it  hardly  ever  actually  is.  
 
Our  meaningful  distinctions  (our  choices  and  guesses)  are  made  on  the  basis  of  
certain  beliefs  and  values.  This  basis  is  a  type  of  theory…,  in  the  case  of  many  
words  a  social  theory.  The  theories  that  form  the  basis  of  such  choices  and  
assumptions  have  a  particular  character.  They  involve  (usually  unconscious)  
assumptions  about  models  of  simplified  worlds.  Such  models  are  sometimes  
called  cultural  models,  folk  theories,  scenes,  schemas,  or  frames.  I  will  call  them  
cultural  models.  
 
I  think  of  cultural  models  as  something  like  movies  or  videotapes  in  the  mind.  
We  all  have  a  vast  store  of  these  tapes,  each  of  which  depicts  prototypical  (what  
we  take  to  be  'normal')  events  in  a  simplified  world.  We  all  have  a  vast  store  of  
these  tapes,  each  of  which  depicts  prototypical  (what  we  take  to  be  ‘normal’)  
events  in  a  simplified  world.  We  conventionally  take  these  simplified  worlds  to  
be  the  'real'  world,  or  act  as  if  they  were.  We  make  our  choices  and  guesses  about  
meaning  in  relation  to  these  worlds.  
 
These  cultural  models  are  emblematic  visions  of  an  idealized,  'normal',  'typical'  
reality,  in  much  the  way  that,  say,  a  Bogart  movie  is  emblematic  of  the  world  of  
the  'tough  guy'  or  an  early  Woody  Allan  movie  of  the  'sensitive,  but  klutzy  male'.  
They  are  also  variable,  differing  across  different  cultural  groups,  including  
different  cultural  groups  in  a  society  speaking  the  same  language.  They  change  
with  time  and  other  changes  in  the  society,  but  we  are  usually  quite  unaware  we  
are  using  them  and  of  their  full  implications.  
 
These  cultural  models  are,  then,  pictures  of  simplified  worlds  in  which  
prototypical  events  unfold.  The  most  commonly  used  cultural  model  for  the    
word  'bachelor'  is  (or  used  to  be)  something  like  the  following  (Fillmore  1975):  
Men  marry  women  at  a  certain  age;  marriages  last  for  life;  and  in  such  a  world,  a  
bachelor  is  a  man  who  stays  unmarried  beyond  the  usual  age,  thereby  becoming  
eminently  marriageable.  We  know  that  this  simplified  world  is  not  always  true,  
but  it  is  the  one  against  which  we  use  the  word  'bachelor',  that  is,  make  choices  

  183  
about  what  other  words  are  excluded  as  applicable  or  not,  and  make  
assumptions  about  what  the  relevant  context  is  in  a  given  case  of  using  a  word.  
Thus,  the  Pope  is  not  a  bachelor  because  he  just  isn't  in  this  simplified  world,  
being  someone  who  has  vowed  not  to  marry  at  any  age.  Nor  are  gay  men,  since  
they  have  chosen  not  to  marry  women.    
 
Such  cultural  models  involve  us  in  exclusions  that  are  not  at  first  obvious  and  
which  we  are  often  quite  unaware  of  making.  In  the  case  of  'bachelor'  we  are  
actually  excluding  words  like  'gay'  and  'priest'  as  applying  to  ('normal')  
unmarried  men,  and  in  doing  so,  we  are  assuming  that  men  come  in  two  
('normal')  types:  ones  who  et  married  early  and  ones  who  get  married  late.  This  
assumption  marginalizes  people  who  do  not  want  to  get  married  or  do  not  want  
to  marry  members  of  the  opposite  sex.  It  is  part  of  the  function  of  such  cultural  
models  to  set  up  what  count  as  central,  typical  cases,  and  what  count  as  marginal,  
non-­‐typical  cases.  
 
There  is  even  a  more  subtle  exclusion  being  made  via  this  cultural  model.  If  men  
become  'eminently  marriageable'  when  they  stay  unmarried  beyond  the  usual  
age,  then  this  can'  only  be  because  we  have  assumed  that  after  that  age  there  is  a  
shortage  of  'desirable'men  and  a  surplus  of  women  who  want  them,  women  who,  
thus,  are  not  'eminently  marriageable',  or,  at  least,  not  as  'eminently  
marriageable'  as  the  men.  Hence,  we  get  the  most  common  cultural  model  
associated  with  'spinster'.  So  we  see  that  our  usual  use  of  'bachelor'  involves  also  
an  exclusion  of  the  phrase  'eminently  marriageable'  as  applicable  to  'older'  
women,  and  the  assumption  that  the  reverse  of  'bachelor',  namely  'spinster',  is  
applicable.    
 
Such  hidden  exclusions  are…ideological.  They  involve  social  theories  (remember,  
cultural  models  are  a  type  of  theory),  quite  tacit  ones  involving  beliefs  about  the  
distribution  of  goods  –  prestige,  power,  desirability,  centrality  in  society.  
Furthermore,  the  fact  that  we  are  usually  unaware  of  using  these  cultural  models  
and  of  their  full  implications  means  that  the  assumptions  they  embody  are  the  
distribution  of  social  goods  appear  to  us  natural,  obvious,  just  the  ways  things  
are,  inevitable,  even  appropriate.  And  this  is  so  despite  the  fact  that  cultural  
models  vary  across  both  different  cultures  and  different  social  groups.    
 

Issues  to  consider  

 
 The  mixing  of  ‘social  languages;  that  Gee  observes  on  the  bottle  of  
aspirin  is  also  a  kind  of  intertextuality,  sometimes  called  
interdiscursivity.  This  kind  of  intertextuality  occurs  when  larger  
aspects  of  discourse  like  speech  styles,  social  languages,  genres,  and  
even  ideologies  are  borrowed  from  others.  What  do  you  think  the  
reason  for  and  effect  of  mixing  social  languages  were  in  this  text?  Can  
you  think  of  other  texts  that  mix  broader  aspects  of  discourse  (such  as  
social  languages  or  genres)  in  order  to  strategically  advance  a  
particular  ideology  or  to  present  the  authors  or  the  readers  as  certain  
kinds  of  people?    

  184  
  
 Gee  says  that  our  choices  of  and  assumptions  about  the  meanings  of  
words  are  often  determined  by  ‘cultural  models’,  which  are  idealized  
versions  of  ‘normal,  typical  reality.’  Cultural  models  often  involve  
ideas  about  certain  ‘types’  of  people,  such  as  ‘bachelors’  and  how  they  
are  supposed  to  act.  Consider  the  cultural  models  surrounding  some  
kind  of  important  event  or  activity  in  your  society  (such  as  studying  in  
university  or  getting  married).  What  sorts  of  cultural  models  does  
your  society  associate  with  these  events  or  activities?  What  kinds  of  
people  do  the  cultural  models  include,  and  what  kinds  of  people  do  
they  marginalize  or  exclude.    

  185  
D5  TWO  PERSPECTIVES  ON  CONVERSATION  
 
The  two  readings  in  this  section  represent  two  different  perspectives  on  
conversation.  The  first,  by  John  Austin,  is  a  basic  outline  of  the  principles  of  
speech  act  theory.    In  particular,  Austin  makes  an  argument  about  why  a  
perspective  which  focuses  only  on  the  propositional  content  of  utterances  cannot  
adequately  explain  how  people  actually  use  language.  The  second  excerpt  is  from  
a  classic  article  by  conversation  analyst  Emanuel  Schegloff.  The  focus  of  the  
article  is  conversational  closings,  but  Schegloff  uses  this  topic  to  illustrate  one  of  
the  basic  principles  of  adjacency  pairs,  the  principle  of  conditional  relevance.    
 

A.    
How  to  do  things  with  words    
John  L.  Austin  (reprinted  from  How  to  do  things  with  words,  Oxford:  Oxford  
University  Press,  1990,  pp.  359-­‐371)    
 
What  I  shall  have  to  say  here  is  neither  difficult  nor  contentious;  the  only  merit  I  
should  like  to  claim  for  it  is  that  of  being  true,  at  least  in  parts.  The  phenomenon  
to  be  discussed  is  very  widespread  and  obvious,  and  it  cannot  fail  to  have  been  
already  noticed,  at  least  here  and  there,  by  others.  Yet  I  have  not  found  attention  
paid  to  it  specifically.  
 
It  was  for  too  long  the  assumption  of  philosophers  that  the  business  of  a  
'statement'  can  only  be  to  'describe'  some  state  of  affairs,  or  to  'state  some  fact',  
which  it  must  do  either  truly  or  falsely.  Grammarians,  indeed,  have  regularly  
pointed  out  that  not  all  'sentences'  are  (used  in  making)  statements:  there  are,  
traditionally,  besides  (grammarians')  statements,  also  questions  and  
exclamations,  and  sentences  expressing  commands  or  wishes  or  concessions.  
And  doubtless  philosophers  have  not  intended  to  deny  this,  despite  some  loose  
use  of  'sentence'  for  'statement'.  Doubtless,  too,  both  grammarians  and  
philosophers  have  been  aware  that  it  is  by  no  means  easy  to  distinguish  even  
questions,  commands,  and  so  on  from  statements  by  means  of  the  few  and  jejune  
grammatical  marks  available,  such  as  word  order,  mood,  and  the  like:  though  
perhaps  it  has  not  been  usual  to  dwell  on  the  difficulties  which  this  fact  obviously  
raises  .  For  how  do  we  decide  which  is  which?  What  are  the  limits  and  definitions  
of  each?    
 
But  now  in  recent  years,  many  things  which  would  once  have  been  accepted  
without  question  as  'statements'  by  both  philosophers  and  grammarians  have  
been  scrutinized  with  new  care  .  .  .  .  It  has  come  to  be  commonly  held  that  many  
utterances  which  look  like  statements  are  either  not  intended  at  all,  or  only  
intended  in  part,  to  record  or  impart  straightforward  information  about  the  
facts:  for  example,  'ethical  propositions'  are  perhaps  intended,  solely  or  partly,  to  
evince  emotion  or  to  prescribe  conduct  or  to  influence  it  in  special  ways  .  .  .  .  We  
very  often  also  use  utterances  in  ways  beyond  the  scope  at  least  of  traditional  

  186  
grammar.  It  has  come  to  be  seen  that  many  specially  perplexing  words  
embedded  in  apparently  descriptive  statements  do  not  serve  to  indicate  some  
specially  odd  additional  feature  in  the  reality  reported,  but  to  indicate  (not  to  
report)  the  circumstances  in  which  the  statement  is  made  or  reservations  to  
which  it  is  subject  or  the  way  in  which  it  is  to  be  taken  and  the  like  .  To  overlook  
these  possibilities  in  the  way  once  common  is  called  the  'descriptive'  fallacy;  but  
perhaps  this  is  not  a  good  name,  as  'descriptive'  itself  is  special.  Not  all  true  or  
false  statements  are  descriptions,  and  for  this  reason  I  prefer  to  use  the  word  
'Constative'  .  .  .Utterances  can  be  found  .  .  .  such  that:  
 
A.  they  do  not  'describe'  or  'report'  or  constate  anything  at  all,  are  not  
'true  or  false'  ;  and  
 
B.  the  uttering  of  the  sentence  is,  or  is  a  part  of,  the  doing  of  an  action,  
which  again  would  not  normally  be  described  as,  or  as  'just',  saying  
something  .    
 
Examples:  
(a)  I  do  (sc  .  take  this  woman  to  be  my  lawful  wedded  wife)'  -­‐  as  uttered  in  
the  course  of  the  marriage  ceremony.  
(b)  'I  name  this  ship  the  Queen  Elizabeth'  -­‐  as  uttered  when  smashing  the  
bottle  against  the  stern.  
(c)  'I  give  and  bequeath  my  watch  to  my  brother'  -­‐  as  occurring  in  a  will.  
(d)  'I  bet  you  sixpence  it  will  rain  tomorrow.'  
 
In  these  examples  it  seems  clear  that  to  utter  the  sentence  (in,  of  course,  the  
appropriate  circumstances)  is  not  to  describe  my  doing  of  what  I  should  be  said  
in  so  uttering  to  be  doing  or  to  state  that  I  am  doing  it:  it  is  to  do  it.  None  of  the  
utterances  cited  is  either  true  or  false:  I  assert  this  as  obvious  and  do  not  argue  it.  
It  needs  argument  no  more  than  that  'damn'  is  not  true  or  false:  it  may  be  that  
the  utterance  'serves  to  inform  you'  -­‐  but  that  is  quite  different.  To  name  the  ship  
is  to  say  (in  the  appropriate  circumstances)  the  words  'I  name,  etc.'  .  When  I  say,  
before  the  registrar  or  attar,  'I  do',  I  am  not  reporting  on  a  marriage:  I  am  
indulging  in  it.  
 
What  are  we  to  call  a  sentence  or  an  utterance  of  this  type?  I  propose  to  call  it  a  
performatire  sentence  or  a  performative  utterance,  or,  for  short,  'a  performative'.  
The  term  'performative'  will  be  used  in  a  variety  of  cognate  ways  and  
constructions,  much  as  the  term  'imperative'  is.  The  name  is  derived,  of  course,  
from  'perform',  the  usual  verb  with  the  noun  'action':  it  indicates  that  the  issuing  
of  the  utterance  is  the  performing  of  an  action  -­‐  it  is  not  normally  thought  of  as  
just  saying  something.  Are  we  then  to  say  things  like  this:  
 
'To  marry  is  to  say  a  few  words',  or    
'Betting  is  simply  saying  something'?  
 
Such  a  doctrine  sounds  odd  or  even  flippant  at  first,  but  with  sufficient  
safeguards  it  may  become  not  odd  at  all.    
 

  187  
 *  
 
The  uttering  of  the  words  is,  indeed,  usually  a,  or  even  the,  leading  incident  in  the  
performance  of  the  act  (of  betting  or  what  not),  the  performance  of  which  is  also  
the  object  of  the  utterance,  but  it  is  far  from  being  usually,  even  if  it  is  ever,  the  
sole  thing  necessary  if  the  act  is  to  be  deemed  to  have  been  performed.  Speaking  
generally,  it  is  always  necessary  that  the  circumstances  in  which  the  words  are  
uttered  should  be  in  some  way,  or  ways,  appropriate,  and  it  is  very  commonly  
necessary  that  either  the  speaker  himself  or  other  persons  should  also  perform  
certain  other  actions,  whether  'physical'  or  'mental'  actions  or  even  acts  of  
uttering  further  words  .  Thus,  for  naming  the  ship,  it  is  essential  that  I  should  be  
the  person  appointed  to  name  her;  for  (Christian)  marrying,  it  is  essential  that  I  
should  not  be  already  married  with  a  wife  living,  sane  and  undivorced,  and  so  on;  
for  a  bet  to  have  been  made,  it  is  generally  necessary  for  the  offer  of  the  bet  to  
have  been  accepted  by  a  taker  (who  must  have  done  something,  such  as  to  say  
'Done');  and  it  is  hardly  a  gift  if  I  say,  'I  give  it  you'  but  never  hand  it  over  .  .  .  .  
 
But  we  may,  in  objecting,  have  something  totally  different,  and  this  time  quite  
mistaken,  in  mind,  especially  when  we  think  of  some  of  the  more  awe-­‐inspiring  
performatives  such  as  'I  promise  to  .  .  .'  .  Surely  the  words  must  be  spoken  
'seriously'  and  so  as  to  be  taken  'seriously'?  This  is,  though  vague,  true  enough  in  
general  -­‐  it  is  an  important  commonplace  in  discussing  the  purport  of  any  
utterance  whatsoever.  I  must  not  be  joking,  for  example,  nor  writing  a  poem.  .  .  .    
 
Well  we  shall  next  consider  what  we  actually  do  say  about  the  utterance  
concerned  when  one  or  another  of  its  normal  concomitants  is  absent  .  In  no  case  
do  we  say  that  the  utterance  was  false  but  rather  that  the  utterance  -­‐  or  rather  
the  act,  e.g.,  the  promise  -­‐  was  void,  or  given  in  bad  faith,  or  not  implemented,  or  
the  like.  In  the  particular  case  of  promising,  as  with  many  other  performatives,  it  
is  appropriate  that  the  person  uttering  the  promise  should  have  a  certain  
intention,  viz.  here  to  keep  his  word:  and  perhaps  of  all  concomitants  this  looks  
the  most  suitable  to  be  that  which  'I  promise'  does  describe  or  record.  Do  we  not  
actually,  when  such  intention  is  absent,  speak  of  a  'false'  promise?  Yet  so  to  
speak  is  not  to  say  that  the  utterance  'I  promise  that  .  .  .'  is  false,  in  the  sense  that  
though  he  states  that  he  does  he  doesn't,  or  that  though  lie  describes  he  
misdescribes  -­‐  misreports.  For  he  does  promise:  the  promise  here  is  not  even  
void,  though  it  is  given  in  bad  faith  .  His  utterance  is  perhaps  misleading,  
probably  deceitful  and  doubtless  wrong,  but  it  is  not  a  lie  or  a  misstatement  .  At  
most  we  might  make  out  a  case  for  saying  that  it  implies  or  insinuates  a  
falsehood  or  a  misstatement  (to  the  effect  that  he  does  intend  to  do  something):  
but  that  is  a  very  different  matter  .  Moreover,  we  do  not  speak  of  a  false  bet  or  a  
false  christening;  and  that  we  do  speak  of  a  false  promise  need  commit  us  no  
more  than  the  fact  that  we  speak  of  a  false  move.  'False'  is  not  necessarily  used  of  
statements  only.  
 
*  
 
Besides  the  uttering  of  the  words  of  so-­‐called  performative,  a  good  many  other  

  188  
things  have  as  a  general  rule  to  be  right  and  to  go  right  if  we  are  to  be  said  to  
have  happily  brought  off  our  action.  What  these  are  we  may  hope  to  discover  by  
looking  at  and  classifying  types  of  case  in  which  something  goes  wrong  and  the  
act  -­‐-­‐  marrying,  betting,  bequeathing,  christening,  or  what  not  -­‐  is  therefore  at  
least  to  some  extent  a  failure:  the  utterance  is  then,  we  may  say,  not  indeed  false  
but  in  general  unhappy.  And  for  this  reason  we  call  the  doctrine  of  the  things  that  
can  be  and  go  wrong  on  the  occasion  of  such  utterances,  the  doctrine  of  the  
Infelicities.  
 
Suppose  we  try  first  to  state  schematically  -­‐  and  I  do  not  wish  to  claim  any  
sort  of  finality  for  this  scheme  -­‐  some  at  least  of  the  things  which  are  necessary  
for  the  smooth  or  'happy'  functioning  of  a  performative  (or  at  least  of  a  highly  
developed  explicit  performative,  such  as  we  have  hitherto  been  alone  concerned  
with),  and  then  give  examples  of  infelicities  and  their  effects  .  .  .  .  
 
A.  1    There  must  exist  an  accepted  conventional  procedure  having  a  certain  
conventional  effect,  that  procedure  to  include  the  uttering  of  certain  words  by  
certain  persons  in  certain  circumstances,  and  further,    
A.2    the  particular  persons  and  circumstances  in  a  given  case  must  be  
appropriate  for  the  invocation  of  the  particular  procedure  invoked  .  
B.1    The  procedure  must  be  executed  by  all  participants  both  correctly  and  
B.  2    completely.  
C.1      Where,  as  often,  the  procedure  is  designed  for  use  by  persons  having  certain  
thoughts  or  feelings,  or  for  the  inauguration  of  certain  consequential  conduct  on  
the  part  of  any  participant,  then  a  person  participating  in  and  so  invoking  the  
procedure  must  in  fact  have  those  thoughts  or  feelings,  and  the  participants  must  
intend  so  to  conduct  themselves,  and  further    
C.2    must  actually  so  conduct  themselves  subsequently.  
 
Now  if  we  sin  against  any  one  (or  more)  of  these  six  rules,  our  performative  
utterance  will  be  (in  one  way  or  another)  unhappy.    
 

Issues  to  consider  

 
 Some  of  the  felicity  conditions  for  speech  act  are  external,  that  is,  they  
can  be  determined  through  observation.  Things  like  the  time,  place  
and  people  involved  are  examples.  But  some  are  internal,  having  to  do  
with  the  intentions,  thoughts,  feelings  and  even  ‘sanity’  of  the  person  
issuing  the  speech  act  or  the  person  to  who  it  is  being  issued.  What  
complications  does  this  introduce  for  the  successful  interpretation  of  
speech  acts?      
 
 The  feminist  critic  Judith  Butler  (1990/2006)  says  that  when  a  doctor  
announces  the  gender  of  a  newborn  baby  (e.g.  ‘It’s  a  girl!’),  he  or  she  is  
issuing  a  performative.  It  is  by  naming  the  child’s  gender  that  gender  is  
assigned.  Do  you  agree  with  this  interpretation?  What  conditions  do  
you  think  must  be  met  for  such  a  speech  act  to  be  felicitous?      
 

  189  
B.    
Opening  up  closings  
 

Emanuel  A.  Schegloff    and  Harvey  Sacks  (reprinted  from  Semiotica  7,  1973:  289-­‐
327)    
 
It  seems  useful  to  begin  by  formulating  the  problem  of  closing  technically  in  
terms  of  the  more  fundamental  order  of  organization,  that  of  turns  .  Two  basic  
features  of  conversation  are  proposed  to  be:  (1)  at  least,  and  no  more  than,  one  
party  speaks  at  a  time  in  a  single  conversation;  and  (2)  speaker  change  recurs.    
 
The  achievement  of  these  features  singly,  and  especially  the  achievement  of  their  
cooccurrence,  is  accomplished  by  co-­‐conversationalists  through  the  use  of  a  
'machinery'  for  ordering  speaker  turns  sequentially  in  conversation.  The  turn-­‐
taking  machinery  includes  as  one  component  a  set  of  procedures  for  organizing  
the  selection  of  'next  speakers',  and,  as  another,  a  set  of  procedures  for  locating  
the  occasions  on  which  transition  to  a  next  speaker  mayor  should  occur.  The  
turn-­‐taking  machinery  operates  utterance  by  utterance.  That  is  to  say,  it  is  within  
any  current  utterance  that  possible  next  speaker  selection  is  accomplished,  and  
upon  possible  completion  of  any  current  utterance  that  such  selection  takes  
effect  and  transition  to  a  next  speaker  becomes  relevant.  We  shall  speak  of  this  
as  the  'transition  relevance  '  of  possible  utterance  completion  …  Whereas  these  
basic  features  …  deal  with  a  conversation's  ongoing  orderliness,  they  make  no  
provision  for  the  closing  of  conversation.  A  machinery  that  includes  the  
transition  relevance  of  possible  utterance  completion  recurrently  for  any  
utterance  in  the  conversation  generates  an  indefinitely  extendable  string  of  turns  
to  talk.  Then,  an  initial  problem  concerning  closings  may  be  formulated:  HOW  TO  
ORGANIZE  THE  SIMULTANEOUS  ARRIVAL  OF  THE  CO-­‐CONVERSATIONALISTS  
AT  A  POINT  WHERE  ONE  SPEAKER'S  COMPLETION  WILL  NOT  OCCASION  
ANOTHER  SPEAKER'S  TALK,  AND  THAT  WILL  NOT  BE  HEARD  AS  SOME  
SPEAKER'S  SILENCE.  The  last  qualification  is  necessary  to  differentiate  closings  
from  other  places  in  conversation  where  one  speaker's  completion  is  not  
followed  by  a  possible  next  speaker  's  talk,  but  where,  given  the  continuing  
relevance  of  the  basic  features  and  the  turn-­‐taking  machinery,  what  is  heard  is  
not  termination  but  attributable  silence,  a  pause  in  the  last  speaker's  utterance,  
etc.  It  should  suggest  why  simply  to  stop  talking  is  not  a  solution  to  the  closing  
problem:  any  first  prospective  speaker  to  do  so  would  be  hearable  as  '  being  
silent'  in  terms  of  the  turn-­‐taking  machinery,  rather  than  as  having  suspended  its  
relevance  …  
 
How  is  the  transition  relevance  of  possible  utterance  completion  lifted?  A  
proximate  solution  involves  the  use  of  a  'terminal  exchange'  composed  of  
conventional  parts,  e  .g.,  an  exchange  of  'good  -­‐byes'…  We  note  first  that  the  
terminal  exchange  is  a  case  of  a  class  of  utterance  sequences  which  we  have  been  
studying  for  some  years,  namely,  the  utterance  pair,  or,  as  we  shall  refer  to  it,  the  
adjacency  pair…  Briefly,  adjacency  pairs  consist  of  sequences  which  properly  
have  the  following  features:  (1)  two  utterance  length,  (2)  adjacent  positioning  of  

  190  
component  utterances,  (3)  different  speakers  producing  each  utterance  .  The  
component  utterances  of  such  sequences  have  an  achieved  relatedness  beyond  
that  which  may  otherwise  obtain  between  adjacent  utterances.  That  relatedness  
is  partially  the  product  of  the  operation  of  a  typology  in  the  speakers'  production  
of  the  sequences.  The  typology  operates  in  two  ways:  it  partitions  utterance  
types  into  '  first  pair  parts'  (i.e.,  first  parts  of  pairs)  and  second  pair  parts;  and  it  
affiliates  a  first  pair  part  and  a  second  pair  part  to  form  a  '  pair  type'.  'Question-­‐
answer',  'greeting-­‐greeting,'  'offer-­‐acceptance/  refusal  '  are  instances  of  pair  
types.  .  Adjacency  pair  sequences,  then,  exhibit  the  further  features  (4)  relative  
ordering  of  parts  (i.  e.  first  pair  parts  precede  second  pair  parts)  and  (5)  
discriminative  relations  (i  .e.  ,  the  pair  type  of  which  a  first  pair  part  is  a  member  
is  relevant  to  the  selection  among  second  pair  parts)…  
 
In  the  case  of  that  type  of  organization  which  we  are  calling  'overall  structural  
organization  ',  it  may  be  noted  that  at  least  initial  sequences  (e.g.,  greeting  
exchanges),  and  ending  sequences  (i.  e  .,  terminal  exchanges)  employ  adjacency  
pair  formats.  It  is  the  recurrent,  institutionalized  use  of  adjacency  pairs  for  such  
types  of  organization  problems  that  suggests  that  these  problems  have,  in  part,  a  
common  character,  and  that  adjacency  pair  organization….is  specially  fitted  to  
the  solution  of  problems  of  that  character.    
 
But  it  may  be  wondered  why  are  two  utterances  required  for  either  opening  or  
closing?  …  What  two  utterances  produced  by  different  speakers  can  do  that  one  
utterance  cannot  do  it:  by  an  adjacently  positioned  second,  a  speaker  can  show  
that  he  understood  what  a  prior  aimed  at,  and  that  he  is  willing  to  go  along  with  
that.  Also,  by  virtue  of  the  occurrence  of  an  adjacently  produced  second,  the  doer  
of  a  first  can  see  that  what  he  intended  was  indeed  understood,  and  that  it  was  or  
was  not  accepted.  
 
We  are  then  proposing:  If  WHERE  transition  relevance  is  to  be  lifted  is  a  
systematic  problem,  an  adjacency  pair  solution  can  work  because  :  by  providing  
that  transition  relevance  is  to  be  lifted  after  the  second  pair  part's  occurrence  ,  
the  occurrence  of  the  second  pair  part  can  then  reveal  an  appreciation  of,  and  
agreement  to,  the  intention  of  closing  NOW  which  a  first  part  of  a  terminal  
exchange  reveals  its  speaker  to  propose.  Given  the  institutionalization  of  that  
solution,  a  range  of  ways  of  assuring  that  it  be  employed  have  been  developed  ,  
which  make  drastic  difference  between  one  party  saying  "good-­‐bye"  and  not  
leaving  a  slot  for  the  other  to  reply,  and  one  party  saying  "good-­‐bye"  and  leaving  
a  slot  for  the  other  to  reply.  
 
The  former  becomes  a  distinct  sort  of  activity,  expressing  anger,  brusqueness,  
and  the  like  ,  and  available  to  such  a  use  by  contrast  with  the  latter.  It  is  this  
consequentiality  of  alternatives  that  is  the  hallmark  of  an  institutionalized  
solution  …    
 
In  referring  to  the  components  of  terminal  exchanges  ,  we  have  so  far  employed  
"good-­‐bye"  as  an  exclusive  instance.  But,  it  plainly  is  not  exclusively  used.  Such  
other  components  as  "ok",  "see  you",  "thank  you",  "you'  re  welcome"  ,  and  the  
like  are  also  used  .  Since  the  latter  items  are  used  in  other  ways  as  well,  the  mere  

  191  
fact  of  their  use  does  not  mark  them  as  unequivocal  parts  of  terminal  exchanges.  
The  adjacency  pair  is  one  kind  of  'local',  i.  e.,  utterance,  organization.  It  does  
NOT  appear  that  FIRST  parts  of  terminal  exchanges  are  placed  by  reference  to  
that  order  of  organization.  While  they,  of  course,  occur  after  some  utterance,  they  
are  not  placed  by  reference  to  a  location  that  might  be  formulated  as  'next'  after  
some  '  last'  utterance  or  class  of  utterances.  Rather,  their  placement  seems  to  be  
organized  by  reference  to  a  properly  initiated  closing  SECTION.  
 
The  [relevant]  aspect  of  overall  conversational  organization  concerns  the  
organization  of  topic  talk  ...  If  we  may  refer  to  what  gets  talked  about  in  a  
conversation  as  'mentionables',  then  we  can  note  that  there  are  considerations  
relevant  for  conversationalists  in  ordering  and  distributing  their  talk  about  
mentionables  in  a  single  conversation.  There  is,  for  example,  a  position  in  a  
single  conversation  for  'first  topic'.  We  intend  to  mark  by  this  term  not  the  
simple  serial  fact  that  some  topic  gets  talked  about  temporally  prior  to  others,  
for  some  temporally  prior  topics  such  as,  for  example,  ones  prefaced  by  "First  ,  I  
just  want  to  say  ...  ",  or  topics  that  are  minor  developments  by  the  receiver  of  the  
conversational  opening  of  "how  are  you"  inquiries  ,  are  not  heard  or  treated  as  
'first  topic'  is  to  accord  it  to  a  certain  special  status  in  the  conversation.  Thus,  for  
example,  to  make  a  topic  '  first  topic'  may  provide  for  its  analyzability  (by  
coparticipants)  as  'the  reason  for'  the  conversation,  that  being,  furthermore  ,  a  
preservable  and  reportable  feature  of  the  conversation.  In  addition,  making  a  
topic  'first  topic'  may  accord  it  a  special  importance  on  the  part  of  its  initiator  .  
These  features  of  'first  topics'  may  pose  a  problem  for  conversationalists  who  
may  not  wish  to  have  special  importance  accorded  some  'mentionable',  and  who  
may  not  want  it  preserved  as  'the  reason  for  the  conversation'.  It  is  by  reference  
to  such  problems  affiliated  with  the  use  of  first  topic  position  that  we  may  
appreciate  such  exchanges  at  the  beginnings  of  conversations  in  which  news  IS  
later  reported,  as:  
 
A:  What  's  up.  
B:  Not  much.  What's  up  with  you?  
A:  Nothing.  
Conversationalists,  then,  can  have  mentionables  they  do  not  want  to  put  in  first  
topic  position,  and  there  are  ways  of  talking  past  first  topic  position  without  
putting  them  in.    
 
A  further  feature  of  the  organization  of  topic  talk  seems  to  involve  'fitting'  as  
a  preferred  procedure  .  That  is,  it  appears  that  a  preferred  way  of  getting  
mentionables  mentioned  is  to  employ  the  resources  of  the  local  organization  of  
utterances  in  the  course  of  the  conversation.  That  involves  holding  off  the  
mention  of  a  mentionable  until  it  can  'occur  naturally',  that  is,  until  it  can  be  
fitted  to  another  conversationalist's  prior  utterance  …  
 
There  is,  however,  no  guarantee  that  the  course  of  the  conversation  will  provide  
the  occasion  for  any  particular  mentionable  to  'come  up  naturally'.  
 
This  being  the  case,  it  would  appear  that  an  important  virtue  for  a  closing  
structure  designed  for  this  kind  of  topical  structure  would  involve  the  provision  

  192  
for  placement  of  hitherto  unmentioned  mentionables.  The  terminal  exchange  by  
itself  makes  no  such  provision.  By  exploiting  the  close  organization  resource  of  
adjacency  pairs,  it  provides  for  an  immediate  (i.e  .,  next  turn)  closing  of  the  
conversation.  That  this  close-­‐ordering  technique  for  terminating  not  exclude  the  
possibility  of  inserting  unmentioned  mentionables  can  be  achieved  by  placement  
restrictions  on  the  first  part  of  terminal  exchanges,  for  example,  by  requiring  
'advance  note'  or  some  form  of  foreshadowing.  
 

Issues  to  consider  

 
 Sacks  and  Schegloff  say  that  adjacency  pairs  always  play  a  part  in  the  
beginning  and  ending  of  conversations.  Why  is  this  necessary?  Can  you  
think  of  any  situations  in  which  this  is  not  the  case?  What  kind  of  effect  is  
produced?  Do  people  perform  openings  and  closing  differently  in  
situations  other  than  face-­‐to-­‐face  communication  (for  example,  text  
messaging  or  telephone  conversations)?    
 
 According  to  Sacks  and  Schegloff,  closing  sequences  are  designed  the  way  
they  are  in  order  to  help  participants  manage  topics  in  conversations  
(that  is,  to  make  sure  neither  of  the  parties  wishes  to  introduce  a  new  
topic).  What  role  do  adjacency  sequences  that  occur  at  the  beginnings  of  
conversations  have  in  helping  people  to  mange  topics?  Which  person  -­‐-­‐  
the  initiator  of  the  conversation  or  the  responder  -­‐-­‐  is  usually  the  person  
who  introduces  the  topic  in  face-­‐to-­‐face  communication?  Is  this  the  same  
in  other  kinds  of  interaction  like  instant  messaging?    

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D6  FRAMES  IN  INTERACTION  
 
In  the  following  classic  article  by  Deborah  Tannen  and  her  collaborator  Cynthia  
Wallat,  the  authors  give  a  clear  an  accessible  definition  of  interactive  frames  and  
the  theoretical  basis  for  this  concept.  They  then  go  on  to  illustrate  how  
interactive  frames  operate  in  a  medical  examination  between  a  pediatrician  and  
a  child.  As  you  read,  play  attention  to  the  strategies  the  doctor  uses  to  shift  
frames  from  ‘playing’  with  the  child  to  explaining  the  child’s  condition  to  the  
mother,  and  how  the  doctor  and  the  child’s  mother  negotiate  conflicting  frames.    

 
Interactive  frames  and  knowledge  schemas  in  interaction:  examples  
from  a  medical  examination/interview    
 

Deborah  Tannen  and  Cynthia  Wallat  (reprinted  from.  Social  Psychology  Quarterly  
50  (2),  1987:  205-­‐16)  
 

Interactive  frames  
 
The  interactive  notion  of  frame  refers  to  a  definition  of  what  is  going  on  in  
interaction,  without  which  no  utterance  (or  movement  or  gesture)  could  be  
interpreted.  To  use  Bateson's  classic  example,  a  monkey  needs  to  know  whether  
a  bite  from  another  monkey  is  intended  within  the  frame  of  play  or  the  frame  of  
fighting.  People  are  continually  confronted  with  the  same  interpretative  task.  In  
order  to  comprehend  any  utterance,  a  listener  (and  a  speaker)  must  know  within  
which  frame  it  is  intended:  for  example,  is  this  joking?  Is  it  fighting?  Something  
intended  as  a  joke  but  interpreted  as  an  insult  (it  could  of  course  be  both)  can  
trigger  a  fight.    
 
Goffman  (1974)  sketched  the  theoretical  foundations  of  frame  analysis  in  the  
work  of  William  James,  Alfred  Schutz  and  Harold  Garfinkel  to  investigate  the  
socially  constructed  nature  of  reality.  Building  on  their  work,  as  well  as  that  of  
linguistic  philosophers  John  Austin  and  Ludwig  Wittgenstein,  Goffman  developed  
a  complex  system  of  terms  and  concepts  to  illustrate  how  people  use  multiple  
frameworks  to  make  sense  of  events  even  as  they  construct  those  events.    
Exploring  in  more  detail  the  linguistic  basis  of  such  frameworks,  Goffman  (1981)  
introduced  the  term  "footing"  to  describe  how,  at  the  same  time  that  participants  
frame  events,  they  negotiate  the  interpersonal  relationships,  or  "alignments,"  
that  constitute  those  events.  
 
The  interactive  notion  of  frame,  then,  refers  to  a  sense  of  what  activity  is  
being  engaged  in,  how  speakers  mean  what  they  say.  As  Ortega  y  Gas'set  (1959:  
3),  a  student  of  Heidegger,  puts  it,  "Before  understanding  any  concrete  
statement,  it  is  necessary  to  perceive  clearly  'what  it  is  all  about'  in  this  
statement  and  'what  game  is  being  played.'    Since  this  sense  is  gleaned  from  the  

  194  
way  participants  behave  in  interaction,  frames  emerge  in  and  are  constituted  by  
verbal  and  nonverbal  interaction.  
 
*  
 
One  author  (Tannen)  was  talking  to  a  friend  on  the  telephone,  when  he  suddenly  
yelled,  "YOU  STOP  THAT!"  She  knew  from  the  way  he  uttered  this  command  that  
it  was  addressed  to  a  dog  and  not  her.  She  remarked  on  the  fact  that  when  he  
addressed  the  dog,  he  spoke  in  something  approximating  a  southern  accent.  The  
friend  explained  that  this  was  because  the  dog  had  learned  to  respond  to  
commands  in  that  accent,  and,  to  give  another  example,  he  illustrated  the  way  
he  plays  with  the  dog:  "I  say,  'GO  GIT  THAT  BALLI'"  Hearing  this,  the  dog  began  
running  about  the  room  looking  for  something  to  fetch.  The  dog  recognized  the  
frame  "play"  in  the  tone  of  the  command;  he  could  not,  however,  understand  the  
words  that  identified  an  outer  frame,  “referring  to  playing  with  the  dog,"  and  
mistook  the  reference  for  a  literal  invitation  to  play.    
 
This  example  illustrates,  as  well,  that  people  (and  dogs)  identify  frames  in  
interaction  by  association  with  linguistic  and  paralinguistic  cues  -­‐  the  way  words  
are  uttered  -­‐  in  addition  to  what  they  say.  That  is,  the  way  the  speaker  uttered  
"You  stop  that!"  was  associated  with  the  frame  "disciplining  a  pet"  rather  than  
"chatting  with  a  friend."  Tannen  drew  on  her  familiarity  with  the  use  of  linguistic  
cues  to  signal  frames  when  she  identified  her  friend's  interjection  "You  stop  
that!"  as  addressed  to  a  dog,  not  her.  But  she  also  drew  on  the  knowledge  that  
her  friend  was  taking  care  of  someone's  dog.  This  was  part  of  her  knowledge  
schema  about  her  friend.  Had  her  schema  included  the  information  that  he  had  a  
small  child  and  was  allergic  to  dogs,  she  might  have  interpreted  the  same  
linguistic  cues  as  signaling  the  related  frame,  "disciplining  a  misbehaving  child."  
Furthermore,  her  expectations  about  how  any  speaker  might  express  orders  or  
emotions,  i.e.  frame  such  expressions,  were  brought  to  bear  in  this  instance  in  
conjunction  with  her  expectations  about  how  this  particular  friend  is  likely  to  
speak  to  her,  to  a  dog  and  to  a  child;  that  is,  a  schema  for  this  friend's  personal  
style.  Thus  frames  and  schemas  interacted  in  her  comprehension  of  the  specific  
utterance.    
 

Interactive  frames  in  the  pediatric  examination  

 
Linguistic  registers  
 
A  key  element  in  framing  is  the  use  of  identifiable  linguistic  registers.  Register,  as  
Ferguson  (1985)  defines  it,  is  simply  "variation  conditioned  by  use,"  
conventionalized  lexical,  syntactic  and  prosodic  choices  deemed  appropriate  for  
the  setting  and  audience  ....  In  addressing  the  child,  the  pediatrician  uses  
"motherese":  a  teasing  register  characterized  by  exaggerated  shifts  in  pitch,  
marked  prosody  (long  pauses  followed  by  bursts  of  vocalization),  and  drawn  out  
vowel  sounds,  accompanied  by  smiling.  
 
For  example,  while  examining  Jody's  ears  with  an  ophthalmoscope  (ear  light),  

  195  
the  pediatrician  pretends  to  be  looking  for  various  creatures,  and  Jody  responds  
with  delighted  laughter:  
 

 
 
In  stark  contrast  to  this  intonationally  exaggerated  register,  the  pediatrician  uses  
a  markedly  flat  intonation  to  give  a  running  account  of  the  findings  of  her  
examination,  addressed  to  no  present  party,  but  designed  for  the  benefit  of  
pediatric  residents  who  might  later  view  the  video-­‐tape  in  the  teaching  facility.  
We  call  this  "reporting  register."  For  example,  looking  in  Jody's  throat,  the  doctor  
says,  with  only  slight  stumbling:  
 
Doctor:  Her  canals  are  are  fine,  they're  open,  urn  her  tympanic  membrane  
was  thin,  and  light.  
 
Finally,  in  addressing  the  mother,  the  pediatrician  uses  conventional  
conversational  register,  as  for  example:  
 
Doctor:  As  you  know,  the  important  thing  is  that  she  does  have  difficulty  
with  the  use  of  her  muscles.  
 
Register  shifting  
 
Throughout  the  examination  the  doctor  moves  among  these  registers.  
Sometimes  she  shifts  from  one  to  another  in  very  short  spaces  of  time,  as  in  the  
following  example  in  which  she  moves  smoothly  from  teasing  the  child  while  
examining  her  throat,  to  reporting  her  findings,  to  explaining  to  the  mother  what  
she  is  looking  for  and  how  this  relates  to  the  mother's  expressed  concern  with  
the  child's  breathing  at  night.  
 

  196  
  
 
The  pediatrician's  shifts  from  one  register  to  another  are  sometimes  abrupt  (for  
example,  when  she  turns  to  the  child  and  begins  teasing)  and  sometimes  gradual  
(for  example,  her  reporting  register  in  ''high  arched  palate"  begins  to  fade  into  
conversational  register  with  ''but  there's  no  cleft,"  and  come  to  rest  firmly  in  
conversational  register  with  "what  we'd  want  to  look  for  ...  ").  In  the  following  
example,  she  shifts  from  entertaining  Jody  to  reporting  findings  and  back  to  
managing  Jody  in  a  teasing  tone:  
 
 

 
Frame  shifting  
 
Although  register  shifting  is  one  way  of  accomplishing  frame  shifts,  it  is  not  the  
only  way.  Frames  are  more  complex  than  register.  Whereas  each  audience  is  

  197  
associated  with  an  identifiable  register,  the  pediatrician  shifts  footings  with  each  
audience.  In  other  words,  she  not  only  talks  differently  to  the  mother,  the  child  
and  the  future  video  audience,  but  she  also  deals  with  each  of  these  audiences  in  
different  ways,  depending  upon  the  frame  in  which  she  is  operating.  
The  three  most  important  frames  in  this  interaction  are  the  social  encounter,  
examination  of  the  child  and  a  related  outer  frame  of  its  videotaping,  and  
consultation  with  the  mother.  Each  of  the  three  frames  entails  addressing  each  of  
the  three  audiences  in  different  ways.  For  example,  the  social  encounter  requires  
that  the  doctor  entertain  the  child,  establish  rapport  with  the  mother  and  ignore  
the  video  camera  and  crew.  The  examination  frame  requires  that  she  ignore  the  
mother,  make  sure  the  video  crew  is  ready  and  then  ignore  them,  examine  the  
child,  and  explain  what  she  is  doing  for  the  future  video  audience  of  pediatric  
residents.  
 
The  consultation  frame  requires  that  she  talk  to  the  mother  and  ignore  the  crew  
and  the  child  -­‐  or,  rather,  keep  the  child  "on  hold,"  to  use  Goffman's  term,  while  
she  answers  the  mother's  questions.  These  frames  are  balanced  nonverbally  as  
well  as  verbally.  Thus  the  pediatrician  keeps  one  arm  outstretched  to  rest  her  
hand  on  the  child  while  she  turns  away  to  talk  to  the  mother,  palpably  keeping  
the  child  "on  hold."  
 
Juggling  frames  
 
Often  these  frames  must  be  served  simultaneously,  such  as  when  the  
pediatrician  entertains  the  child  and  examines  her  at  the  same  time,  as  seen  in  
the  example  where  she  looks  in  her  ear  and  teases  Jody  that  she  is  looking  for  a  
monkey.  The  pediatrician's  reporting  register  reveals  what  she  was  actually  
looking  at  (Jody's  ear  canals  and  tympanic  membrane).  But  balancing  frames  is  
an  extra  cognitive  burden,  as  seen  when  the  doctor  accidentally  mixes  the  
vocabulary  of  her  diagnostic  report  into  her  teasing  while  examining  Jody's  
stomach:  
 

 
 
 
 

  198  
  
 
The  pediatrician  says  the  last  line,  "Is  your  spleen  palpable  over  there?"  in  the  
same  teasing  register  she  was  using  for  peanut  butter  and  jelly,  and  Jody  
responds  with  the  same  delighted  giggling  "No"  with  which  she  responded  to  the  
teasing  questions  about  peanut  butter  and  jelly.  The  power  of  the  paralinguistic  
cues  with  which  the  doctor  signals  the  frame  "teasing"  is  greater  than  that  of  the  
words  spoken,  which  in  this  case  leak  out  of  the  examination  frame  into  the  
teasing  register.  
 
In  other  words,  for  the  pediatrician,  each  interactive  frame,  that  is,  each  
identifiable  activity  that  she  is  engaged  in  within  the  interaction,  entails  her  
establishing  a  distinct  footing  with  respect  to  the  other  participants.  
 
The  interactive  production  of  frames  
 
Our  analysis  focuses  on  the  pediatrician's  speech  because  our  goal  is  to  show  
that  the  mismatch  of  schemas  triggers  the  frame  switches  which  make  this  
interaction  burdensome  for  her.  Similar  analyses  could  be  performed  for  any  
participant  in  any  interaction.  Furthermore,  all  participants  in  any  interaction  
collaborate  in  the  negotiation  of  all  frames  operative  within  that  interaction.  
Thus,  the  mother  and  child  collaborate  in  the  negotiation  of  frames  which  are  
seen  in  the  pediatrician's  speech  and  behavior.  
 
For  example,  consider  the  examination  frame  as  evidence  in  the  pediatrician's  
running  report  of  her  procedures  and  findings  for  the  benefit  of  the  video  
audience.  
 
Although  the  mother  interrupts  with  questions  at  many  points  in  the  
examination,  she  does  not  do  so  when  the  pediatrician  is  reporting  her  findings  
in  what  we  have  called  reporting  register.  Her  silence  contributes  to  the  
maintenance  of  this  frame.  Furthermore,  on  the  three  of  seventeen  occasions  of  
reporting  register  when  the  mother  does  offer  a  contribution,  she  does  so  in  
keeping  with  the  physician's  style:  Her  utterances  have  a  comparable  clipped  
style.  
 
The  homonymy  of  behaviors  
 

  199  
Activities  which  appear  the  same  on  the  surface  can  have  very  different  
meanings  and  consequences  for  the  participants  if  they  are  understood  as  
associated  with  different  frames.  For  example,  the  pediatrician  examines  various  
parts  of  the  child's  body  in  accordance  with  what  she  describes  at  the  start  as  a  
"standard  pediatric  evaluation."  At  times  she  asks  the  mother  for  information  
relevant  to  the  child's  condition,  still  adhering  to  the  sequence  of  foci  of  attention  
prescribed  by  the  pediatric  evaluation.  At  one  point,  the  mother  asks  about  a  skin  
condition  behind  the  child's  right  ear,  causing  the  doctor  to  examine  that  part  of  
Jody's  body.  What  on  the  surface  appears  to  be  the  same  activity  -­‐  examining  the  
child  -­‐  is  really  very  different.  In  the  first  case  the  doctor  is  adhering  to  a  preset  
sequence  of  procedures  in  the  examination,  and  in  the  second  she  is  interrupting  
that  sequence  to  focus  on  something  else,  following  which  she  will  have  to  
recover  her  place  in  the  standard  sequence.  
 
Conflicting  frames  
 
Each  frame  entails  ways  of  behaving  that  potentially  conflict  with  the  demands  of  
other  frames.  For  example,  consulting  with  the  mother  entails  not  only  
interrupting  the  examination  sequence  but  also  taking  extra  time  to  answer  her  
questions,  and  this  means  that  the  child  will  get  more  restless  and  more  difficult  
to  manage  as  the  examination  proceeds.  Reporting  findings  to  the  video  audience  
may  upset  the  mother,  necessitating  more  explanation  in  the  consultation  frame.  
Perhaps  that  is  the  reason  the  pediatrician  frequently  explains  to  the  mother  
what  she  is  doing  and  finding  and  why.  
 
Another  example  will  illustrate  that  the  demands  associated  with  the  
consultation  frame  can  conflict  with  those  of  the  examination  frame,  and  that  
these  frames  and  associated  demands  are  seen  in  linguistic  evidence,  in  this  case  
by  contrasting  the  pediatrician's  discourse  to  the  mother  in  the  examination  
setting  with  her  report  to  the  staff  of  the  Child  Development  Center  about  the  
same  problem.  Having  recently  learned  that  Jody  has  an  arteriovenous  
malformation  in  her  brain,  the  mother  asks  the  doctor  during  the  examination  
how  dangerous  this  condition  is.  The  doctor  responds  in  a  way  that  balances  the  
demands  of  several  frames:  
 

  200  
  
 
The  mother's  question  invoked  the  consultation  frame,  requiring  the  doctor  to  
give  the  mother  the  information  based  on  her  medical  knowledge,  plus  take  into  
account  the  effect  on  the  mother  of  the  information  that  the  child's  life  IS  in  
danger.  However,  the  considerable  time  that  would  normally  be  required  for  
such  a  task  is  limited  because  of  the  conflicting  demands  of  the  examination  
frame:  the  child  is  "on  hold"  for  the  exam  to  proceed.  (Notice  that  it  is  admirable  
sensitivity  of  this  doctor  that  makes  her  aware  of  the  needs  of  both  frames.  
According  to  this  mother,  many  doctors  have  informed  her  in  matter-­‐of-­‐fact  
tones  of  potentially  devastating  information  about  her  child's  condition,  without  
showing  any  sign  of  awareness  that  such  information  will  have  emotional  impact  
on  the  parent.  In  our  terms,  such  doctors  acknowledge  only  one  frame  -­‐  
examination  -­‐  in  order  to  avoid  the  demands  of  conflicting  frames  -­‐  consultation  
and  social  encounter.  Observing  the  burden  on  this  pediatrician,  who  
successfully  balances  the  demands  of  multiple  frames,  makes  it  easy  to  
understand  why  others  might  avoid  this.)  
 
The  pediatrician  blunts  the  effect  of  the  information  she  imparts  by  using  
circumlocutions  and  repetitions;  pausing  and  hesitating;  and  minimizing  the  
significant  danger  of  the  arteriovenous  malformation  by  using  the  word  "only"  
("only  danger"),  by  using  the  conditional  tense  ("that  would  be  the  danger"),  and  
by  stressing  what  sounds  positive,  that  they're  not  going  to  get  worse.  She  
further  creates  a  reassuring  effect  by  smiling,  nodding  and  using  a  soothing  tone  
of  voice.  
 
In  reviewing  the  Video-­‐tape  with  us  several  years  after  the  taping,  the  
pediatrician  was  surprised  to  see  that  she  had  expressed  the  prognosis  in  this  
way-­‐-­‐  and  furthermore  that  the  mother  seemed  to  be  reassured  by  what  was  in  
fact  distressing  information.  The  reason  she  did  so,  we  suggest,  is  that  she  was  
responding  to  the  immediate  and  conflicting  demands  of  the  two  frames  she  was  
operating  in:  consulting  with  the  mother  in  the  context  of  the  examination.  
 
Evidence  that  this  doctor  indeed  felt  great  concern  for  the  seriousness  of  the  

  201  
child's  condition  is  seen  in  her  report  to  the  staff  regarding  the  same  issue:  
 

 
Here  the  pediatrician  speaks  faster,  with  fluency  and  without  hesitation  or  
circumlocution.  Her  tone  of  voice  conveys  a  sense  of  urgency  and  grave  concern.  
Whereas  the  construction  used  with  the  mother,  "only  danger,"  seemed  to  
minimize  the  danger,  the  listing  construction  used  with  the  staff  ("sudden  death,  
intracranial  hemorrhage"),  which  actually  refers  to  a  single  possible  event,  gives  
the  impression  that  even  more  dangers  are  present  than  those  listed.  
 
Thus  the  demands  on  the  pediatrician  associated  with  consultation  with  the  
mother;  those  associated  with  examining  the  child  and  reporting  her  findings  to  
the  video  audience;  and  those  associated  with  managing  the  interaction  as  a  
social  encounter  are  potentially  in  conflict  and  result  in  competing  demands  on  
the  doctor's  cognitive  and  social  capacities.  
 

Issues  to  consider  

 
 The  different  frames  the  doctor  uses  with  the  young  patient  and  with  her  
mother  also  involve  different  face  strategies  of  independence  and  
involvement.  What  do  you  think  the  relationship  between  framing  
strategies  and  face  strategies  is?  How  do  they  work  together  in  
interactions?  How  does  this  relate  to  Goffman’s  concept  of  ‘footing’?    
 
 The  way  we  interpret  frames  depends  crucially  on  our  ‘knowledge  
schema’  for  different  situations.  How  do  the  knowledge  schema  the  
participants  in  the  interaction  described  have  about  a  medical  
consultations  affect  how  they  produce  and  interpret  contextualization  
cues?  Can  you  think  of  a  situation  in  which  you  or  someone  you  know  
approached  a  situation  with  an  incomplete  or  faulty  knowledge  schema?  
What  were  the  consequences?    

 
 At  one  point  in  this  interaction  the  doctor  mixes  a  formal  medical  register  
(‘Is  your  spleen  palpable  over  there?’)  with  a  ‘teasing  frame’,  and  the  child  
reacts  as  if  this  is  part  of  the  game.  The  authors  use  this  as  an  example  of  
how  non-­‐verbal  contextualization  cues  can  sometimes  be  so  powerful  as  
to  override  the  actual  content  of  an  utterance.  Why  do  you  think  this  is?  
Can  you  think  of  any  examples  of  this  from  your  own  experience?    

  202  
  
 Sometimes  we  have  to  manage  the  demands  of  two  or  more  frames  at  one  
time.  In  this  interaction,  for  example,  the  doctor  has  to  manage  
communicating  medical  information  to  both  the  mother  and  the  students  
watching  the  video  and,  at  the  same  time,  manage  her  young  patient.  In  
what  way  are  the  demands  of  these  three  different  frames  incompatible?  
What  kinds  of  miscommunication  can  potentially  arise  from  such  
situations?    

  203  
D7  THE  ETHNOGRAPHY  OF  COMMUNICATION  
 
The  two  readings  that  follow  come  from  two  classic  volumes  on  the  ethnography  
of  communication:  Directions  in  Sociolinguistics,  edited  by  John  Gumperz  and  Dell  
Hymes,  and  The  Ethnography  of  Communication  by  Muriel  Saville-­‐Troike.  In  the  
first  excerpt,  Hymes  lays  out  the  distinction  among  speech  situations,  speech  
events  and  speech  acts.  In  the  second  excerpt,  Muriel  Saville-­‐Troike  discusses  the  
concept  of  communicative  competence.  One  important  point  she  makes  is  that  
since  we  are  all  members  of  multiple  speech  communities,  we  all  must  obtain  
multiple  competences  and  sometimes  negotiate  among  them,  something  that  is  
particularly  true  for  second  language  learners.    

A.    
Speech  Situations,  Speech  Events  and  Speech  Acts  
 

Dell  Hymes  (reprinted  from  Directions  in  sociolinguistics,  John  J.  Gumperz  and  Dell  
Hymes  (eds.),  Oxford:  Basil  Blackwell,  1986,  pp.  52-­‐65)    
 
 
Speech  situation  
 
Within  a  community  one  readily  detects  many  situations  associated  with  (or  
marked  by  the  absence  of)  speech.  Such  contexts  of  situation  will  often  be  
naturally  described  as  ceremonies,  fights,  hunts,  meals,  lovemaking,  and  the  like.  
It  would  not  be  profitable  to  convert  such  situations  en  masse  into  parts  of  a  
sociolinguistic  description  by  the  simple  expedient  of  relabeling  them  in  terms  of  
speech.  (Notice  that  the  distinctions  made  with  regard  to  speech  community  are  
not  identical  with  the  concepts  of  a  general  communicative  approach,  which  
must  note  the  differential  range  of  communication  by  speech,  film,  art  object,  
music.)  Such  situations  may  enter  as  contexts  into  the  statement  of  rules  of  
speaking  as  aspects  of  setting  (or  of  genre).  In  contrast  to  speech  events,  they  are  
not  in  themselves  governed  by  such  rules,  or  one  set  of  such  rules  throughout.  A  
hunt,  e.g.,  may  comprise  both  verbal  and  nonverbal  events,  and  the  verbal  events  
may  be  of  more  than  one  type.  
 
In  a  sociolinguistic  description,  then,  it  is  necessary  to  deal  with  activities  which  
are  in  some  recognizable  way  bounded  or  integral.  From  the  standpoint  of  
general  social  description  they  may  be  registered  as  ceremonies,  fishing  trips,  
and  the  like;  from  particular  standpoints  they  may  be  regarded  as  political,  
esthetic,  etc.,  situations,  which  serve  as  contexts  for  the  manifestation  of  political,  
esthetic,  etc.,  activity.  From  the  sociolinguistic  standpoint  they  may  be  regarded  
as  speech  situations.  
 
Speech  event  
 

  204  
The  term  speech  event  will  be  restricted  to  activities,  or  aspects  of  activities,  that  
are  directly  governed  by  rules  or  norms  for  the  use  of  speech.  An  event  may  
consist  of  a  single  speech  act,  but  will  often  comprise  several.  Just  as  an  
occurrence  of  a  noun  may  at  the  same  time  be  the  whole  of  a  noun  phrase  and  
the  whole  of  a  sentence  (e.g.,  “Fire!”),  so  a  speech  act  may  be  the  whole  of  a  
speech  event,  and  of  a  speech  situation  (say,  a  rite  consisting  of  a  single  prayer,  
itself  a  single  invocation).  More  often,  however,  one  will  find  a  difference  in  
magnitude:  a  party  (speech  situation),  a  conversation  during  the  party  (speech  
event),  a  joke  within  the  conversation  (speech  act).  It  is  of  speech  events  and  
speech  acts  that  one  writes  formal  rules  for  their  occurrence  and  characteristics.    
Notice  that  the  same  type  of  speech  act  may  recur  in  different  types  of  speech  
event,  and  the  same  type  of  speech  event  in  different  contexts  of  situation.  Thus,  
a  joke  (speech  act)  may  be  embedded  in  a  private  conversation,  a  lecture,  a  
formal  introduction.  A  private  conversation  may  occur  in  the  context  of  a  party,  a  
memorial  service,  a  pause  in  changing  sides  in  a  tennis  match.  
 
Speech  act  
 
The  speech  act  is  the  minimal  term  of  the  set  just  discussed,  as  the  remarks  on  
speech  events  have  indicated.  It  represents  a  level  distinct  from  the  sentence,  
and  not  identifiable  with  any  single  portion  of  other  levels  of  grammar,  nor  with  
segments  of  any  particular  size  defined  in  terms  of  other  levels  of  grammar.  That  
an  utterance  has  the  status  of  a  command  may  depend  upon  a  conventional  
formula  (“I  hereby  order  you  to  leave  this  building”),  intonation  (“Go!”  vs.  “Go?”),  
position  in  a  conversational  exchange  [“Hello”  as  initiating  greeting  or  as  
response  (perhaps  used  when  answering  the  telephone)],  or  the  social  
relationship  obtaining  between  the  two  parties  (as  when  an  utterance  that  is  in  
the  form  of  a  polite  question  is  in  effect  a  command  when  made  by  a  superior  to  
a  subordinate).  The  level  of  speech  acts  mediates  immediately  between  the  usual  
levels  of  grammar  and  the  rest  of  a  speech  event  or  situation  in  that  it  implicates  
both  linguistic  form  and  social  norms.  
 
To  some  extent  speech  acts  may  be  analyzable  by  extensions  of  syntactic  and  
semantic  structure.  It  seems  certain,  however,  that  much,  if  not  most,  of  the  
knowledge  that  speakers  share  as  to  the  status  of  utterances  as  acts  is  immediate  
and  abstract,  depending  upon  an  autonomous  system  of  signals  from  both  the  
various  levels  of  grammar  and  social  settings.  To  attempt  to  depict  speech  acts  
entirely  by  postulating  an  additional  segment  of  underlying  grammatical  
structure  (e.g.,  “I  hereby  X  you  to  .  .  .”)  is  cumbersome  and  counterintuitive.  
(Consider  the  case  in  which  “Do  you  think  I  might  have  that  last  bit  of  tea?”  is  to  
be  taken  as  a  command.)  
 
An  autonomous  level  of  speech  acts  is  in  fact  implicated  by  that  logic  of  linguistic  
levels  according  to  which  the  ambiguity  of  “the  shooting  of  the  blacks  was  
terrible”  and  the  commonality  of  “topping  Erv  is  almost  impossible”  and  “it’s  
almost  impossible  to  top  Erv”  together  requires  a  further  level  of  structure  at  
which  the  former  has  two  different  structures,  the  latter  one.  The  relation  
between  sentence  forms  and  their  status  as  speech  acts  is  of  the  same  kind.  A  
sentence  interrogative  in  form  may  be  now  a  request,  now  a  command,  now  a  

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statement;  a  request  may  be  manifested  by  a  sentence  that  is  now  interrogative,  
now  declarative,  now  imperative  in  form.  
 
Discourse  may  be  viewed  in  terms  of  acts  both  syntagmatically  and  
paradigmatically;  i.e.,  both  as  a  sequence  of  speech  acts  and  in  terms  of  classes  of  
speech  acts  among  which  choice  has  been  made  at  given  points.  
 
 
Issues  to  consider  
 
.    
  The  distinction  between  speech  events  and  speech  situations  is  
potentially  ambiguous.  Hymes  says  that  what  distinguishes  speech  events  
from  speech  situations  is  that  speech  situations  are  not  governed  by  one  
set  of  rules  throughout.  What  distinguishes  a  speech  event  from  a  speech  
situation,  then,  is  very  much  dependent  on  the  distinctions  that  members  
of  a  speech  community  themselves  make  regarding  things  like  setting  and  
genre.  What  are  some  ways  an  analyst  can  go  about  determining  the  
boundaries  of  a  speech  event?    
 
 Hymes’s  understanding  of  speech  acts  differs  somewhat  from  the  
formulation  we  are  familiar  with  from  Austin  (see  Section  B5).  Rather  
than  understanding  speech  acts  in  relation  to  ‘felicity  conditions’,  Hymes  
suggests  that  we  interpret  speech  acts  in  terms  of  the  speech  events  in  
which  they  are  embedded,  just  as  we  interpret  speech  events  in  terms  of  
the  broader  speech  situations  in  which  they  are  embedded.  What  
differences  does  this  reveal  between  the  way  the  ethnography  of  
communication  and  other  approaches  to  spoken  discourse  such  as  
pragmatics  and  conversation  analysis  understand  communication?  
 

B.  
Communicative  Competence  
 

Muriel  Saville-­‐Troike,  (reprinted  from  The  ethnography  of  communication,  Oxford:  

Blackwell,  2003,  pp.  18-­‐22)  
 
Hymes  (1966)  observed  that  speakers  who  could  produce  any  and  all  of  the  
grammatical  sentences  of  a  language  (per  Chomsky’s  1965  definition  of  
linguistic  competence)  would  be  institutionalized  if  they  indiscriminately  went  
about  trying  to  do  so  without  consideration  of  the  appropriate  contexts  of  use.  
Communicative  competence  involves  knowing  not  only  the  language  code  but  also  
what  to  say  to  whom,  and  how  to  say  it  appropriately  in  any  given  situation.  
Further,  it  involves  the  social  and  cultural  knowledge  speakers  are  presumed  to  
have  which  enables  them  to  use  and  interpret  linguistic  forms.  Hymes  (1974,  
1987)  augmented  Chomsky’s  notion  of  linguistic  competence  (knowledge  of  
systematic  potential,  or  whether  or  not  an  utterance  is  a  possible  grammatical  
structure  in  a  language)  with  knowledge  of  appropriateness  (whether  and  to  

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what  extent  something  is  suitable),  occurrence  (whether  and  to  what  extent  
something  is  done),  and  feasibility  (whether  and  to  what  extent  something  is  
possible  under  particular  circumstances).  The  concept  of  communicative  
competence  (and  its  encompassing  congener,  social  competence)  is  one  of  the  
most  powerful  organizing  tools  to  emerge  in  the  social  sciences  in  recent  years.  
 
Communicative  competence  extends  to  both  knowledge  and  expectation  of  who  
may  or  may  not  speak  in  certain  settings,  when  to  speak  and  when  to  remain  
silent,  to  whom  one  may  speak,  how  one  may  talk  to  persons  of  different  statuses  
and  roles,  what  nonverbal  behaviors  are  appropriate  in  various  contexts,  what  
the  routines  for  turn-­‐taking  are  in  conversation,  how  to  ask  for  and  give  
information,  how  to  request,  how  to  offer  or  decline  assistance  or  cooperation,  
how  to  give  commands,  how  to  enforce  discipline,  and  the  like  –  in  short,  
everything  involving  the  use  of  language  and  other  communicative  modalities  in  
particular  social  settings.  
 
Clear  cross-­‐cultural  differences  can  and  do  produce  conflicts  or  inhibit  
communication.  For  example,  certain  American  Indian  groups  are  accustomed  
to  waiting  several  minutes  in  silence  before  responding  to  a  question  or  taking  a  
turn  in  conversation,  while  the  native  English  speakers  they  may  be  talking  to  
have  very  short  time  frames  for  responses  or  conversational  turn-­‐taking,  and  
find  long  silences  embarrassing  .  .  .  
 
The  concept  of  communicative  competence  must  be  embedded  in  the  notion  of  
cultural  competence,  or  the  total  set  of  knowledge  and  skills  which  speakers  
bring  into  a  situation.  This  view  is  consonant  with  a  semiotic  approach  which  
defines  culture  as  meaning,  and  views  all  ethnographers  (not  just  ethnographers  
of  communication)  as  dealing  with  symbols  (e.g.  Douglas  1970;  Geertz  1973).  
The  systems  of  culture  are  patterns  of  symbols,  and  language  is  only  one  of  the  
symbolic  systems  in  this  network.  Interpreting  the  meaning  of  linguistic  
behavior  requires  knowing  the  meaning  in  which  it  is  embedded.  
 
Ultimately  all  aspects  of  culture  are  relevant  to  communication,  but  those  that  
have  the  most  direct  bearing  on  communicative  forms  and  processes  are  the  
social  and  institutional  structure,  the  values  and  attitudes  held  about  language  
and  ways  of  speaking,  the  network  of  conceptual  categories  which  results  from  
experiences,  and  the  ways  knowledge  and  skills  (including  language)  are  
transmitted  from  one  generation  to  the  next  and  to  new  members  of  the  group.  
Shared  cultural  knowledge  is  essential  to  explain  the  shared  presuppositions  and  
judgments  of  truth  value  which  are  the  essential  undergirdings  of  language  
structures,  as  well  as  of  contextually  appropriate  usage  and  interpretation.  
 
While  referential  meaning  may  be  ascribed  to  many  of  the  elements  in  the  
linguistic  code  in  a  static  manner,  situated  meaning  must  be  accounted  for  as  an  
emergent  and  dynamic  process.  Interaction  requires  the  perception,  selection,  
and  interpretation  of  salient  features  of  the  code  used  in  actual  communicative  
situations,  integrating  these  with  other  cultural  knowledge  and  skills,  and  
implementing  appropriate  strategies  for  achieving  communicative  goals.  
 

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The  phonology,  grammar,  and  lexicon  which  are  the  target  of  traditional  
linguistic  description  constitute  only  a  part  of  the  elements  in  the  code  used  for  
communication.  Also  included  are  the  paralinguistic  and  nonverbal  phenomena  
which  have  conventional  meaning  in  each  speech  community,  and  knowledge  of  
the  full  range  of  variants  in  all  elements  which  are  available  for  transmitting  
social,  as  well  as  referential,  information.  Ability  to  discriminate  between  those  
variants  which  serve  as  markers  of  social  categories  or  carry  other  meaning  and  
those  which  are  insignificant,  and  knowledge  of  what  the  meaning  of  a  variant  is  
in  a  particular  situation,  are  all  components  of  communicative  competence.  
 
The  verbal  code  may  be  transmitted  on  oral,  written,  or  manual  (signed)  
channels.  The  relative  load  carried  on  each  channel  depends  on  its  functional  
distribution  in  a  particular  speech  community,  and  thus  they  are  of  differential    
importance  in  the  linguistic  repertoire  of  any  individual  or  society.  Full  
participation  in  a  deaf  speech  community  requires  ability  to  interpret  language  
on  the  manual  channel  but  not  the  oral,  for  instance;  a  speech  community  with  a  
primarily  oral  tradition  may  not  require  interpretation  of  writing;  and  a  speech  
community  which  relegates  much  information  flow  to  the  written  channel  will  
require  literacy  skills  for  full  participation.  Thus,  the  traditional  linguistic  
description  which  focuses  only  on  the  oral  channel  will  be  too  narrow  to  account  
for  communicative  competence  in  most  societies.  
 
Although  it  may  cause  some  terminological  confusion,  references  to  ways  of  
speaking  and  ethnography  of  speaking  should  be  understood  as  usually  including  
a  much  broader  range  of  communicative  behavior  than  merely  speech.  
The  typical  descriptive  focus  on  oral  production  has  tended  to  treat  language  as  a  
unidirectional  phenomenon.  In  considering  the  nature  and  scope  of  
communicative  competence,  it  is  useful  to  distinguish  between  receptive  and  
productive  dimensions  (Troike  1970);  only  shared  receptive  competence  is  
necessary  for  successful  communication.  Knowledge  of  rules  for  appropriate  
communicative  behavior  entails  understanding  a  wide  range  of  language  forms,  
for  instance,  but  not  necessarily  the  ability  to  produce  them.  Members  of  the  
same  community  may  understand  varieties  of  a  language  which  differ  according  
to  the  social  class,  region,  sex,  age,  and  occupation  of  the  speaker,  but  only  a  few  
talented  mimics  will  be  able  to  speak  them  all.  In  multilingual  speech  
communities,  members  often  share  receptive  competence  in  more  than  one  
language  but  vary  greatly  in  their  relative  ability  to  speak  one  or  the  other.  
 
The  following  outline  summarizes  the  broad  range  of  shared  knowledge  that  is  
involved  in  appropriate  communication.  From  the  ethnographer’s  perspective,  
this  inventory  also  indicates  the  range  of  linguistic,  interactional,  and  cultural  
phenomena  which  must  ultimately  be  accounted  for  in  an  adequate  description  
and  explanation  of  communicative  competence  (see  also  Gumperz  1984;  Hymes  
1987;  Duranti  1988).  
 
1  Linguistic  knowledge  
 
(a)  Verbal  elements  
(b)  Nonverbal  elements  

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(c)  Patterns  of  elements  in  particular  speech  events  
(d)  Range  of  possible  variants  (in  all  elements  and  their  organization)  
(e)  Meaning  of  variants  in  particular  situations  
 
2  Interaction  skills  
 
(a)  Perception  of  salient  features  in  communicative  situations  
(b)  Selection  and  interpretation  of  forms  appropriate  to  specific  situations,  roles,  
and  relationships  (rules  for  the  use  of  speech)  
(c)  Discourse  organization  and  processes  
(d)  Norms  of  interaction  and  interpretation  
(e)  Strategies  for  achieving  goals  
 
3  Cultural  knowledge  
 
(a)  Social  structure  (status,  power,  speaking  rights)  
(b)  Values  and  attitudes  
(c)  Cognitive  maps/schemata  
(d)  Enculturation  processes  (transmission  of  knowledge  and  skills)  
 
Communicative  competence  within  the  ethnography  of  communication  usually  
refers  to  the  communicative  knowledge  and  skills  shared  by  a  speech  
community,  but  these  (like  all  aspects  of  culture)  reside  variably  in  its  individual  
members.  The  shared  yet  individual  nature  of  competence  reflects  the  nature  of  
language  itself,  as  expressed  by  von  Humboldt  (1836):  
 
While  languages  are  in  the  ambiguous  sense  of  the  word  .  .  .  creations  of  
nations,  they  still  remain  personal  and  individual  creations  of  individuals.  
This  follows  because  they  can  be  produced  in  each  individual,  yet  only  in  
such  a  manner  that  each  individual  assumes  a  priori  the  comprehension  
of  all  people  and  that  all  people,  furthermore,  satisfy  such  expectation.  
 
Considering  communicative  competence  at  an  individual  level,  we  must  
additionally  recognize  that  any  one  speaker  is  not  infrequently  a  member  of  
more  than  one  speech  community  –  often  to  different  degrees.  For  individuals  
who  are  members  of  multiple  speech  communities,  which  one  or  ones  they  
orient  themselves  to  at  any  given  moment  –  which  set  of  social  and  
communicative  rules  they  use  –  is  reflected  not  only  in  which  segment  of  their  
linguistic  knowledge  they  select,  but  which  interaction  skills  they  utilize,  and  
which  aspects  of  their  cultural  knowledge  they  activate.  The  competence  of  non-­‐
native  speakers  of  a  language  usually  differs  significantly  from  the  competence  of  
native  speakers;  the  specific  content  of  what  an  individual  needs  to  know  and  the  
skills  he  or  she  needs  to  have  depend  on  the  social  context  in  which  he  or  she  is  
or  will  be  using  the  language  and  the  purposes  he  or  she  will  have  for  doing  so.  
 
This  further  emphasizes  why  the  notion  of  an  “ideal  speaker-­‐listener,  in  a  
completely  homogeneous  speech-­‐community”  (Chomsky  1965:  3)  is  inadequate  
for  ethnographic  purposes.  Also,  multilingual  speakers’  communicative  
competence  includes  knowledge  of  rules  for  the  appropriate  choice  of  language  

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and  for  switching  between  languages,  given  a  particular  social  context  and  
communicative  intent,  as  well  as  for  the  intralingual  shifting  among  styles  and  
registers  which  is  common  to  the  competence  of  all  speakers.  An  extension  has  
been  made  to  “intercultural  communicative  competence,”  which  requires  an  
additional  level  of  metacompetence  involving  explicit  awareness  of  differential  
usages  and  ability  to  adapt  communicative  strategies  to  a  variety  of  cultural  
situations  (Kim  1991).  Liu  (2001)  further  extends  the  construct  to  “adaptive  
cultural  competence”  as  a  goal  for  second  language  learners,  which  also  
encompasses  social  identity  negotiation  skills  and  culture-­‐sensitivity  
knowledge.  He  argues  that  such  a  higher  level  competence  is  needed  for  
appropriate  and  effective  social  participation  of  non-­‐native  speakers  who  are  in  
roles  of  international  students  or  immigrées.    
 
Accounting  for  the  nature  of  communicative  competence  ultimately  “requires  
going  beyond  a  concern  with  Language  (capital  L)  or  a  language.  It  requires  a  
focus  on  the  ways  in  which  people  do  use  language  .  .  .”  (Hymes  1993:  13).  
Problems  arise  when  individual  competence  is  judged  in  relation  to  a  presumed  
“ideal”  monolingual  speech  community,  or  assessed  with  tests  given  in  a  limited  
subset  of  situations  which  do  not  represent  the  true  range  of  an  individual’s  
verbal  ability  (Hymes  1979).  The  problems  are  particularly  serious  ones  when  
such  invalid  judgments  result  in  some  form  of  social  or  economic  discrimination  
against  the  individuals,  such  as  unequal  or  inappropriate  educational  treatment  
or  job  placement.  Awareness  of  the  complex  nature  of  communicative  
competence  and  the  potential  negative  consequences  of  misjudgments  is  leading  
to  major  changes  in  procedures  and  instruments  for  language  assessment,  but  no  
simple  solutions  are  forthcoming  (see  Philips  1983;  Milroy  1987;  Byram  1997).  
 

Issues  to  consider  

 
 Saville-­‐Troike  offers  a  model  for  thinking  about  communicative  
competence  which  is  slightly  different  from  Hymes’s  SPEAKING  model,  
one  in  which  competence  is  divided  into  1)  linguistic  knowledge,  2)  
interaction  skills,  and  3)  cultural  knowledge,  with  each  category  
containing  a  number  of  components.  Which  of  these  components  
correspond  to  the  components  in  the  SPEAKING  model  and  which  do  not?  
To  what  extent  do  you  think  these  additional  components  enhance  the  
model?  
 
  Saville-­‐Troike  makes  the  distinction  between  receptive  competence  and  
productive  competence.  How  do  these  different  kinds  of  competence  
determine  the  degree  of  participation  one  can  have  in  a  speech  event?  Are  
there  speech  events  in  which  only  receptive  competence  is  sufficient  for  
most  participants?  Are  their  speech  events  in  which  both  kinds  of  
competence  are  required  for  participation?    

 
 At  the  end  of  this  excerpt  Saville-­‐Troike  discusses  the  implications  of  the  
idea  of  communicative  competence  for  language  learning  and  language  
assessment.  How  do  you  think  using  the  idea  of  communicative  

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 competence  as  opposed  to  the  narrower  notion  of  linguistic  competence  
would  affect  the  way  you  might  go  about  testing  the  language  proficiency  
of  an  individual?    

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D8  DISCOURSE  AND  ACTION  
 
In  this  section  you  will  read  an  excerpt  from  Mediated  Discourse:  The  nexus  of  
practice,  the  book  in  which  Ron  Scollon  first  articulated  his  theory  of  mediated  
discourse  analysis.  As  you  read,  notice  how  he  distinguishes  his  method  from  
other  approaches  to  discourse  analysis.  At  the  same  time,  take  note  of  the  
similarities  this  method  has  with  other  methods  discussed  in  this  book  and  how  
Scollon  incorporates  principles  and  tools  from  those  methods  into  his  model.    
 

Discourse  and  action:  a  cup  of  coffee  

 

Ron  Scollon  (reprinted  from  Mediated  discourse:  The  nexus  of  practice.  London:  
Routledge  2001,  pp.  1-­‐8)  
 
One  morning  recently  in  San  Diego,  California  I  had  a  cup  of  coffee  at  the  
international  chain  coffee  shop,  Starbucks®.    After  a  short  time  in  the  queue  I  
ordered  a  tall  latte  and  another  drink  for  my  friend.    I  paid  for  the  drinks  and  
then  waited  a  few  minutes  while  the  drinks  were  made  and  then  delivered  to  me.    
We  took  the  drinks  and  sat  down  to  drink  them  and  have  a  conversation.    As  
linguists  and  perhaps  only  linguists  do,  in  and  among  the  other  topics  of  
conversation  we  talked  about  what  was  printed  on  the  cup.    
 
Mediated  discourse  analysis  is  a  framework  for  looking  at  such  actions  with  two  
questions  in  mind:    What  is  the  action  going  on  here?  and  How  does  Discourse  
figure  into  these  actions?    In  a  sense  there  is  nothing  very  new  or  different  about  
mediated  discourse  analysis  in  that  it  is  a  remedial  position  that  seeks  to  develop  
a  theoretical  remedy  for  discourse  analysis  that  operates  without  reference  to  
social  actions  on  the  one  hand  and  social  analysis  that  operates  without  
reference  to  discourse  on  the  other.    Virtually  all  of  the  theoretical  elements  have  
been  proposed  and  developed  in  the  work  of  others.  In  this,  mediated  discourse  
analysis  takes  the  position  that  social  action  and  Discourse  are  inextricably  
linked  on  the  one  hand  (Chouliaraki  and  Fairclough  1999)  but  that  on  the  other  
hand  these  links  are  sometimes  not  at  all  direct  or  obvious,  and  therefore  in  need  
of  more  careful  theorization.  
 
In  having  this  cup  of  coffee  I  could  say  there  is  just  a  single  action—having  a  cup  
of  coffee  as  is  implied  in  the  common  invitation,  ‘Let’s  go  have  a  cup  of  coffee.’    Or  
I  could  say  there  is  a  very  complex  and  nested  set  of  actions—queuing,  ordering,  
purchasing,  receiving  the  order,  selecting  a  table,  drinking  coffee,  conversing,  
busing  our  trash  and  the  rest.    Likewise,  I  could  say  there  is  just  one  discourse  
here—a  conversation  among  friends.    Or  I  could  say  there  are  many  complex  
Discourses  with  rampant  intertextualities  and  interdiscursivities—international  
neo-­‐capitalist  marketing  of  coffee,  service  encounter  talk,  linguistic  conference  
talk,  family  talk  and  the  rest.    Mediated  discourse  analysis  is  a  position  which  
seeks  to  keep  all  of  this  complexity  alive  in  our  analyses  without  presupposing  

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which  actions  and  which  Discourses  are  the  relevant  ones  in  any  particular  case  
under  study.  
 
As  a  way  to  at  least  temporarily  narrow  the  scope  of  my  analysis  here,  I  want  to  
focus  on  the  coffee  cup.    It  can  be  called  the  primary  mediational  means  by  which  
the  coffee  has  been  produced  as  something  transferable,  delivered  to  me,  and  
ultimately  consumed.    Without  the  cup  there  is  no  <having  a  cup  of  coffee>  in  the  
literal  sense.  Throughout  all  the  other  actions  which  take  place,  the  cup  figures  
as  the  material  line  that  holds  this  all  together.  From  the  point  of  view  of  an  
analysis  of  mediated  action  (Wertsch  1998),  then,  we  would  want  to  consider  the  
cup—a  paper  one  in  this  case—absolutely  central  to  both  the  narrowly  viewed  
actions  of  delivery  or  drinking  and  to  the  more  broadly  viewed  actions  of  
consumer  purchasing/marketing  or  of  <having  a  cup  of  coffee>  as  a  
conversational  genre.  
 
If  we  come  to  this  social  interaction  from  the  point  of  view  of  discourse  analysis,  
and  if  we  set  aside  for  the  moment  all  of  the  complexities  of  service  encounter  
talk  and  of  casual  conversation  between  friends,  we  still  find  that  the  cup  itself  
(with  its  protective  sleeve)  is  an  impressive  semiotic  complex  of  at  least  seven  
different  Discourses  (Gee  1999).      
 
Commercial  branding:    There  is  a  world-­‐wide  recognizable  logo  which  
appears  twice  on  the  cup  and  once  on  the  cardboard  protective  sleeve.  
 
Legal:    The  logo  is  marked  as  a  registered  property  (®)  and  the  text  on  
the  sleeve  is  marked  as  copyrighted  (©).    A  patent  number  is  also  given.    
In  addition,  there  is  a  warning  that  the  contents  are  ‘extremely  hot’  which  
derives  from  a  famous  lawsuit  against  another  international  chain  where  
a  customer  had  held  a  paper  cup  of  their  coffee  between  his  legs  while  
driving  and  been  uncomfortably  scorched.  
 
E-­‐commerce:    A  website  is  given  where  the  consumer  can  learn  more,  
though  it  does  not  indicate  what  we  might  learn  about.  
 
Consumer  correctness:    An  extended  text  tells  us  that  the  company  cares  
for  those  who  grow  its  coffee  and  gives  a  telephone  number  where  the  
consumer  can  call  to  make  a  donation  to  CARE  on  behalf  of  plantation  
workers  in  Indonesia.  
 
Environmental  correctness:    We  are  told  that  the  sleeve  is  made  of  60%  
recycled  fiber  and  that  it  uses  less  material  than  would  a  second  paper  
cup.    The  color  scheme  is  in  natural  cardboard  brown  with  green  lettering  
which  are  widely  associated  with  environmental  friendliness.  
 
Service  information:    There  is  a  roster  of  possibilities  (‘Decaf’,  ‘Shots’,  
‘Syrup’,  ‘Milk’,  ‘Custom’,  and  ‘Drink’)  printed  and  superimposed  is  the  
handwritten  ‘L’  (for  ‘latte’).  
 

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 Manufacturing  information:    Under  the  cup  around  the  inside  rim  is  the  
information  about  the  cup  itself,  its  size,  and  product  labeling  and  
number.  
 
On  the  one  hand  we  have  a  fairly  clear  and  mundane  social  action—having  a  cup  
of  coffee  in  a  coffee  shop—and  a  semiotic  complex  of  Discourses  which  are  also,  
at  least  now  at  the  beginning  of  this  century,  rather  mundane.    We  have  an  array  
of  analytical  positions  from  which  we  can  analyze  this  action  from  seeing  it  as  
participating  in  a  bit  of  micro-­‐social  interaction  to  seeing  it  as  participating  in  the  
world-­‐wide  consumer  practices  of  neo-­‐capitalism.    At  the  same  time  we  have  an  
array  of  analytical  positions  from  which  we  can  analyze  the  Discourses  
represented  in  these  texts  printed  on  this  coffee  cup.    The  problem  that  mediated  
discourse  analysis  is  trying  to  engage  is  how  we  are  to  work  out  a  way  to  
understand  the  relationships  among  the  actions—drinking  the  cup  of  coffee—
and  the  Discourses.    Ethnographic  observation  leads  us  to  believe  that,  on  the  
whole  except  for  the  odd  linguist,  the  coffee  is  drunk  without  much  attention  
being  focused  on  this  impressive  discursive  array  on  the  cup.    Correspondingly,  
the  literature  has  many  analyses  of  such  Discourses  in  public  places  from  the  
products  of  the  news  industry  through  to  the  broader  popular  culture  industry  
which  make  scant  reference  at  all  to  the  actual  social  situations  in  which  these  
Discourses  are  engaged  in  social  action.    Mediated  discourse  analysis  is  an  
attempt  to  theorize  a  way  in  which  we  can  link  the  Discourse  of  commercial  
branding,  for  example,  with  the  practice  of  drinking  a  cup  of  coffee  in  
conversation  without  giving  either  undue  weight  to  the  action  without  reference  
to  the  Discourse  or  to  the  Discourse  without  reference  to  the  actions  within  
which  it  is  appropriated.  
 

A  few  central  concepts  

 
A  mediated  discourse  analysis  gives  central  importance  to  five  concepts:  
• Mediated  action  
• Site  of  engagement  
• Mediational  means  
• Practice  
• Nexus  of  practice  
Mediated  action:    The  unit  of  analysis  of  a  mediated  discourse  analysis  is  the  
mediated  action  (not  the  Discourse  or  text  or  genre).    That  is,  the  focus  is  on  
social  actors  as  they  are  acting  because  these  are  the  moments  in  social  life  when  
the  Discourses  in  which  we  are  interested  are  instantiated  in  the  social  world  as  
social  action,  not  simply  as  material  objects.    We  use  the  phrase  ‘mediated  action’  
to  highlight  the  unresolvable  dialectic  between  action  and  the  material  means  
which  mediate  all  social  action  (Wertsch  1998).    That  is,  we  take  the  position  that  
action  is  materially  grounded  in  persons  and  objects  and  that  it  is  unproductive  
to  work  with  purely  abstracted  conceptual  systems  of  representation.    
Participation  in  the  world-­‐wide  consumer  society  requires  at  some  point  the  
transfer  of  coins  and  cups,  speaking  and  drinking.    Conversely  stated,  this  
transfer  of  coins  and  cups  and  speaking  and  drinking  inevitably  entail  

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participating  in  the  consumer  society.    There  is  no  action  without  participating  in  
such  Discourses;  no  such  Discourses  without  concrete,  material  actions.  
 
A  site  of  engagement:    A  mediated  action  occurs  in  a  social  space  which  I  have  
elsewhere  called  a  ‘site  of  engagement’  (Scollon  1998,  1999).    This  is  the  real-­‐
time  window  that  is  opened  through  an  intersection  of  social  practices  and  
mediational  means  (cultural  tools)  that  make  that  action  the  focal  point  of  
attention  of  the  relevant  participants.    The  idea  of  the  site  of  engagement  takes  
from  practice/activity  theory  (as  well  as  from  interactional  sociolinguistics)  the  
insistence  on  the  real-­‐time,  irreversible,  and  unfinalizable  nature  of  social  action.      
 
A  mediated  action  is  not  a  class  of  actions  but  a  unique  moment  in  history.    Its  
interpretation  is  located  within  the  social  practices  which  are  linked  in  that  
unique  moment.    The  cup  of  coffee/coffee  conversation  in  San  Diego  is  
theoretically  taken  as  unique  and  unfolding  in  that  moment  and  bears  only  a  
loose,  indirect,  and  highly  problematical  relationship  with  another  cup  of  coffee  
at  a  Starbucks®  in  San  Luis  Obispo  among  the  same  participants  a  week  later  if  
for  no  other  reason  that  the  first  is  part  of  the  history  of  the  second.  
 
Mediational  means:    A  mediated  action  is  carried  out  through  material  objects  in  
the  world  (including  the  materiality  of  the  social  actors—their  bodies,  dress,  
movements)  in  dialectical  interaction  with  structures  of  the  habitus.    We  take  
these  mediational  means  to  always  be  multiple  in  any  single  action,  to  carry  with  
them  historical  afffordances  and  constraints,  and  to  be  inherently  polyvocal,  
intertextual,  and  interdiscursive.    Further,  these  multiple  mediational  means  are  
organized  in  a  variety  of  ways,  either  in  hierarchical  structures  of  activities  or  in  
relatively  expectable  relations  of  salience  or  importance.  
 
While  I  have  focused  on  the  cup  in  this  sketch,  this  cup  of  coffee  has  also  equally  
entailed  the  physical  spaces  of  the  coffee  shop,  the  coins  and  bills  exchanged,  the  
servers,  the  counters,  the  coffee  machines,  the  tables  and  chairs,  the  other  
customers  of  the  shop,  the  San  Diego  sunshine—a  significant  materiality  of  that  
particular  action—and  our  own  habitus,  latte  for  me,  chai  latte  for  my  friend.    
The  polyvocality,  intertextuality,  and  interdiscursivity  of  the  cup  has  been  noted  
above.    To  this  we  add  the  Southern  California  décor  which  sets  this  particular  
shop  in  its  place  on  earth  and  departs  so  radically  from  the  ‘same’  company’s  
shops  in  Washington,  DC,  Beijing,  and  London.  
 
Practice  and  social  structure:    For  this  mediated  action  to  take  place  in  this  way  
there  is  a  necessary  intersection  of  social  practices  and  mediational  means  which  
in  themselves  reproduce  social  groups,  histories,  and  identities.    A  mediated  
discourse  analysis  takes  it  that  a  mediated  action  is  only  interpretable  within  
practices.    From  this  point  of  view  ‘having  a  cup  of  coffee’  is  viewed  as  a  different  
action  in  a  Starbucks®,  in  a  cafeteria,  and  at  home.    The  difference  lies  both  in  
the  practices  (how  the  order  is  made,  for  example)  and  in  the  mediational  means  
(including  the  range  from  the  espresso  machines  to  the  décor  of  the  spaces  in  
which  the  action  is  taken).    That  is  to  say,  a  mediated  discourse  analysis  does  not  
neutralize  these  practices  and  social  structures  as  ‘context’,  but  seeks  to  keep  
them  alive  in  our  interpretations  of  mediated  actions.  

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Nexus  of  practice:    Mediated  discourse  analysis  takes  a  tight  or  narrow  view  of  
social  practice  as  social  practices—ordering,  purchasing,  handing  and  
receiving—and  so  then  sees  these  as  practices  (as  count  nouns,  not  as  a  mass  
noun).    These  practices  are  linked  to  other  practices  discursive  and  non-­‐
discursive  over  time  to  form  nexus  of  practice.    So  we  might  loosely  at  least  want  
to  talk  about  an  early  21st  Century  American  ‘designer  coffee  shop’  nexus  of  
practice  which  would  provisionally  include  such  things  as  pricing  practices  
(high),  ordering  practices  (the  distinctions  between  caffe  latte,  café  au  lait,  
regular  coffee  with  milk,  cappuchino),  drinking  practices  (alone  with  
newspapers,  in  conversation  with  friends),  discursive  practices  (being  able  to  
answer  to  ‘whole  or  skim?’,  knowing  that  ‘tall’  means  the  smallest  cup  on  sale  or  
that  ‘for  here’  means  in  a  porcelain  cup  rather  than  a  paper  one),  physical  
spacing  practices  (that  the  queuing  place  and  delivery  place  are  different)  and  
the  rest.  
 
The  concept  of  the  nexus  of  practice  works  more  usefully  than  the  concept  of  the  
community  of  practice  which  was  the  earlier  framing  (Scollon  1998)  in  that  it  is  
rather  loosely  structured  and  structured  over  time.    That  is,  a  nexus  of  practice,  
like  practices  themselves  is  formed  one  mediated  action  at  a  time  and  is  always  
unfinalized  (and  unfinalizable).    The  concept  of  the  nexus  of  practice  is  
unbounded  (unlike  the  more  problematical  community  of  practice)  and  takes  
into  account  that  at  least  most  practices  (ordering,  purchasing,  handing  and  
receiving)  can  be  linked  variably  to  different  practices  in  different  sites  of  
engagement  and  among  different  participants.    From  this  point  of  view,  the  
practice  of  handing  an  object  to  another  person  may  be  linked  to  practices  which  
constitute  the  action  of  purchasing  in  a  coffee  shop,  it  may  be  linked  to  practices  
which  constitute  the  action  of  giving  a  gift  to  a  friend  on  arriving  at  a  birthday  
party,  or  even  to  handing  a  bit  of  change  to  a  panhandler  on  the  street.    Mediated  
discourse  analysis  takes  the  position  that  It  is  the  constellation  of  linked  
practices  which  make  for  the  uniqueness  of  the  site  of  engagement  and  the  
identities  thus  produced,  not  necessarily  the  specific  practices  and  actions  
themselves.  
 
This  mediated  action  of  having  a  cup  of  coffee  and  the  concurrent  and  
dialogically  chained  prior  and  subsequent  mediated  actions  could  be  analyzed  
with  a  great  deal  more  care  than  I  have  been  able  to  do  here.    My  purpose  has  
been  simply  to  make  these  five  points:      
 
• The  mediated  action  (within  a  dialogical  chain  of  such  social  actions)  is  
the  focus  of  mediated  discourse  analysis.    
• The  focus  is  on  real-­‐time,  irreversible,  one-­‐time-­‐only  actions  rather  
than  objectivized,  categorical  analyses  of  types  of  action  or  discourses  
and  texts.    
• An  action  is  understood  as  taking  place  within  a  site  of  engagement  
which  is  the  real-­‐time  window  opened  through  an  intersection  of  
social  practices  and  mediational  means.  
• The  mediational  means  are  multiple  in  any  case  and  inevitably  carry  
histories  and  social  structures  with  them.  

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 • A  mediated  action  produces  and  reproduces  social  identities  and  
social  structures  within  a  nexus  of  practice.  
 

Theoretical  principles  
 
It  is  only  with  some  trepidation  that  I  suggest  that  mediated  discourse  analysis  is  
a  theory  as  that  word  tends  to  evoke  emotional  responses  only  surpassed  
perhaps  by  ‘patriotism’  or  ‘plagiarism’.    Nevertheless,  I  believe  it  is  important  to  
seek  to  make  one’s  claims  clear  and  then  proceed  with  the  business  of  
discovering  what  is  wrong  with  them.    Here  I  will  articulate  three  principles  
which  organize  mediated  discourse  theory.    The  three  main  principles  are  the  
principles  of  social  action,  communication,  and  history.    I  would  argue  that  the  
second  two  are  simply  tautological  or  definitional  extensions  of  the  first  
principle  as  are  the  corollaries.    I  make  no  claim  that  these  principles  are  unique  
to  mediated  discourse;  indeed,  it  is  my  hope  that  the  only  originality,  if  there  is  
originality  at  all  in  these  ideas,  is  in  the  degree  of  explicitness  of  the  underlying  
principles  I  am  trying  to  achieve.  
 
PRINCIPLE  ONE:  The  principle  of  social  action:    Discourse  is  best  conceived  as  a  
matter  of  social  actions,  not  systems  of  representation  or  thought  or  values.  
 
COROLLARY  ONE:    The  ecological  unit  of  analysis  
The  proper  unit  of  analysis  for  a  theory  of  social  action  is,  tautologically,  
the  social  action,  or  as  I  prefer  to  phrase  it,  the  mediated  action;  that  is,  
the  person  or  persons  in  the  moment  of  taking  an  action  along  with  the  
mediational  means  which  are  used  by  them  form  the  ‘ecological’  unit  of  
analysis,  the  unit  of  analysis  in  which  the  phenomenon  exists,  changes,  
and  develops  through  time  (Bateson  1972).  
 
COROLLARY  TWO:  Practice:    All  social  action  is  based  in  tacit,  normally  
non-­‐conscious  actions.  
 
COROLLARY  THREE:  Habitus:    The  basis  of  social  action  is  the  habitus  
(Bourdieu  1977,  1990)  or  the  historical-­‐body  (Nishida  1958):    An  
individual’s  accumulated  experience  of  social  actions.  
 
COROLLARY  FOUR:  Positioning  (identity  claims):    All  social  actions  occur  
within  a  nexus  of  practice  which  makes  implicit  or  explicit  claims  to  the  
social  groups  and  positions  of  all  participants—speakers,  hearers,  and  
those  talked  about  or  in  front  of.  
 
COROLLARY  FIVE:  Socialization:    Because  all  social  actions  position  the  
participants,  all  communications  have  the  effect  of  socialization  to  nexus  
of  practice.  
 
COROLLARY  SIX:  Othering:    Because  of  the  principle  of  socialization,  all  
communications  have  the  simultaneous  effect  of  producing  ‘others’  who  

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 are  identified  by  not  being  members  of  the  relevant  community  of  
practice.      
 
PRINCIPLE  TWO:    The  principle  of  communication:    The  meaning  of  the  term  
‘social’  in  the  phrase  ‘social  action’  implies  a  common  or  shared  system  of  
meaning.    To  be  social  an  action  must  be  communicated.  
 
COROLLARY  ONE:    Mediational  means:  The  production  of  shared  
meanings  is  mediated  by  a  very  wide  range  of  mediational  means  or  
cultural  tools  such  as  language,  gesture,  material  objects,  and  institutions  
which  are  carriers  of  their  sociocultural  histories.  
 
COROLLARY  TWO:    Organization  of  mediational  means:  The  multiple  
mediational  means  involved  in  a  mediated  action  are  related  to  each  other  
in  complex  ways.  
 
PRINCIPLE  THREE:  The  principle  of  history:    ‘Social’  means  ‘historical’  in  the  
sense  that  shared  meaning  derives  from  common  history  or  common  past.  
 
COROLLARY  ONE:    Interdiscursivity:    Because  of  the  principle  of  history,  
all  communication  is  positioned  within  multiple,  overlapping,  and  even  
conflicting  discourses.  
 
COROLLARY  TWO:    Intertextuality:    Because  of  the  principle  of  history,  all  
communications  (particular  utterances)  borrow  from  other  discourses  
and  texts  and  are,  in  turn,  used  in  later  discourses.  
 
COROLLARY  THREE:    Dialogicality  (or  conversational  or  practical  
inference):    Because  of  the  principle  of  history,  all  communications  
respond  to  prior  communications  and  anticipate  following  
communications.  
 

Issues  to  consider  

 
 Scollon  says  that  the  main  task  of  mediated  discourse  analysis  is  finding  
out  a  way  to  understand  the  relationship  between  the  actions  that  we  
take  and  larger  ‘capital  D  Discourses’  ‘without  giving  either  undue  weight  
to  the  action  without  reference  to  the  Discourse  or  to  the  Discourse  
without  reference  to  the  actions  within  which  it  is  appropriated.’  What  
are  some  of  the  challenges  involved  in  this  task?    How  is  the  way  
mediated  discourse  analysis  goes  about  this  task  different  from  the  way  
critical  discourse  analysis  (see  Sections  A4,  B4,  C4  and  D4)  does?    
 
  Accoding  to  Scollon,  a  ‘nexus’  of  practice  occurs  when  a  number  of  
practices  are  linked  to  other  practices  in  predictable  ways.  The  example  
he  gives  is  ‘early  21st  Century  American  “designer  coffee  shop”  nexus  of  
practice’.  How  does  this  definition  of  nexus  of  practice  compare  to  Gee’s  

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 definitions  of  ‘cultural  models’  and  ‘capital  D  Discourses’  and  with  
Swales’s  definition  of  ‘discourse  communities’?  

 
 Scollon  notes  that  when  we  take  social  actions  we  inevitably  make  claims  
about  ‘who  we  are’,  the  communities  to  which  we  belong.  He  also  notes  
that  these  same  actions  have  the  effect  of  producing  ‘others’  who  are  
constructed  as  not  members  of  the  relevant  nexus  of  proactice.  How  is  the  
way  mediated  discourse  analysis  approaches  issues  of  social  identity  
similar  to  and  different  from  the  way  interactional  sociolinguistics  and  
critical  discourse  analysis  do?  

 
 In  Section  D4,  Fairclough  quoted  Kristiva  as  saying  that  intertextuality  
involves  ‘the  insertion  of  history  (society)  into  a  text  and  of  this  text  into  
history.’  How  is  the  relationship  between  discourse  and  history  explained  
in  mediated  discourse  analysis?    

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D9  TWO  PERSPECTIVES  ON  MULTIMODALITY  
 
The  excerpts  reprinted  in  this  section  represent  to  two  broad  approaches  to  
multimodality  which  were  introduced  in  Section  A9.  The  first  is  from  Gunther  
Kress  and  Theo  van  Leeuwan’s  classic,  Reading  images:  The  grammar  of  visual  
design.  In  this  excerpt  the  authors  make  an  argument  that  visual  design,  like  
language,  constitutes  an  organized  system  of  meaningful  choices  which  can  be  
analyzed  with  reference  to  linguistic  theories.  At  the  same  time,  they  warn  
against  adopting  the  same  concepts  used  to  analyze  language  to  analyze  other  
modes,  which  necessarily  involve  different  kinds  of  resources  from  making  
meaning.  They  then  go  on  to  explain  the  ‘grammar’  of  visual  design  in  terms  of  
Hallidays  tripartite  model  of  meaning:  ideational  meaning,  interpersonal  
meaning,  and  textual  menaing.    
 
In  the  second  excerpt,  Sigrid  Norris  makes  an  argument  for  moving  beyond  a  
view  of  interaction  that  focuses  primarily  on  spoken  language,  insisting  that  
other  modes  like  gesture,  gaze,  posture  and  the  layout  of  furniture  are  just  as  
important,  and  sometimes  more  important,  than  speech.  She  then  goes  on  to  
explain  how  principles  from  mediated  discourse  analysis  (see  Section  D8)  can  
help  to  organize  the  multimodal  analysis  of  interactions.    
As  you  read  through  these  excerpts,  consider  not  just  how  the  two  approaches  
differ  from  each  other,  but  also  how  they  appropriate  and  build  upon  concepts  
from  other  approaches  to  discourse  that  have  been  discussed  in  this  book.    

A.    

Reading  Images  
 

Gunther  Kress,  and  Theo  van  Leeuwen  (reprinted  from  Reading  Images:  The  
grammar  of  visual  design  2nd  Edition.  London:  Routledge  2006,  pp.  17-­‐20,  41-­‐43)  
 
In  this  book  we  take  a  fresh  look  at  the  question  of  the  visual.  We  want  to  treat  
forms  of  communication  employing  images  as  seriously  as  linguistic  forms  have  
been.  We  have  come  to  this  position  because  of  the  now  overwhelming  evidence  
of  the  importance  of  visual  communication,  and  the  now  problematic  absence  of  
the  means  for  talking  and  thinking  about  what  is  actually  communicated  by  
images  and  by  visual  design.  In  doing  so,  we  have  to  move  away  from  the  
position  which  Roland  Barthes  took  in  his  1964  essay  ‘Rhetoric  of  the  image’  
(1977:  32–51).  In  this  essay  (and  elsewhere,  as  in  the  introduction  to  Elements  of  
semiology;  Barthes,  1967a),  he  argued  that  the  meaning  of  images  (and  of  other  
semiotic  codes,  like  dress,  food,  etc.)  is  always  related  to  and,  in  a  sense,  
dependent  on,  verbal  text.  By  themselves,  images  are,  he  thought,  too  
‘polysemous’,  too  open  to  a  variety  of  possible  meanings.  To  arrive  at  a  definite  
meaning,  language  must  come  to  the  rescue.  Visual  meaning  is  too  indefinite;  it  is  
a  ‘floating  chain  of  signifieds’.  Hence,  Barthes  said,  ‘in  every  society  various  
techniques  are  developed  intended  to  fix  the  floating  chain  of  signifieds  in  such  a  
way  as  to  counter  the  terror  of  uncertain  signs;  the  linguistic  message  is  one  of  

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these  techniques’  (1977:  39).  He  distinguished  between  an  image–text  relation  in  
which  the  verbal  text  extends  the  meaning  of  the  image,  or  vice  versa,  as  is  the  
case,  for  example,  with  the  speech  balloons  in  comic  strips,  and  an  image–text  
relation  in  which  the  verbal  text  elaborates  the  image,  or  vice  versa.  In  the  
former  case,  which  he  called  relay,  new  and  different  meanings  are  added  to  
complete  the  message.  In  the  latter  case,  the  same  meanings  are  restated  in  a  
different  (e.g.  more  definite  and  precise)  way,  as  is  the  case,  for  example,  when  a  
caption  identifies  and/or  interprets  what  is  shown  in  a  photograph.  Of  the  two,  
elaboration  is  dominant.  Relay,  said  Barthes,  is  ‘more  rare’.  He  distinguished  two  
types  of  elaboration,  one  in  which  the  verbal  text  comes  first,  so  that  the  image  
forms  an  illustration  of  it,  and  one  in  which  the  image  comes  first,  so  that  the  text  
forms  a  more  definite  and  precise  restatement  or  ‘fixing’  of  it  (a  relation  he  calls  
anchorage).  
 
Before  approximately  1600  (the  transition  is,  of  course,  very  gradual),  Barthes  
argued,  ‘illustration’  was  dominant.  Images  elaborated  texts,  more  specifically  
the  founding  texts  of  the  culture  –  mythology,  the  Bible,  the  ‘holy  writ’  of  the  
culture  –  texts,  therefore,  with  which  viewers  could  be  assumed  to  be  familiar.  
This  relation,  in  which  verbal  texts  formed  a  source  of  authority  in  society,  and  in  
which  images  disseminated  the  dominant  texts  in  a  particular  mode  to  particular  
groups  within  society,  gradually  changed  to  one  in  which  nature,  rather  than  
discourse,  became  the  source  of  authority.  In  the  era  of  science,  images,  ever  
more  naturalistic,  began  to  function  as  ‘the  book  of  nature’,  as  ‘windows  on  the  
world’,  as  ‘observation’,  and  verbal  text  served  to  identify  and  interpret,  to  ‘load  
the  image,  burdening  it  with  a  culture,  a  moral,  an  imagination’.  
 
This  position  does  explain  elements  of  communication.  Any  one  of  the  image–
text  relations  Barthes  describes  may  at  times  be  dominant,  although  we  feel  that  
today  there  is  a  move  away  from  ‘anchorage’.  Compare,  for  example,  the  ‘classic’  
documentary  film  in  which  the  viewer  is  first  confronted  with  ‘images  of  nature’,  
then  with  the  authoritative  voice  of  a  narrator  who  identifies  and  interprets  the  
images,  with  the  modern  ‘current  affairs’  item,  in  which  the  viewer  is  first  
confronted  with  the  anchorperson’s  verbal  discourse  and,  either  simultaneously  
or  following  on  from  the  verbal  introduction,  with  the  ‘images  of  nature’  that  
illustrate,  exemplify  and  authenticate  the  discourse.  But  Barthes’  account  misses  
an  important  point:  the  visual  component  of  a  text  is  an  independently  organized  
and  structured  message,  connected  with  the  verbal  text,  but  in  no  way  
dependent  on  it  –  and  similarly  the  other  way  around.  
 
One  important  difference  between  the  account  we  develop  in  this  book  and  that  
of  earlier  semioticians  is  our  use  of  work  in  linguistic  theories  and  descriptions.  
This  is  a  difficult  argument  to  make,  but  worth  making  clearly.  We  think  that  this  
book  would  not  have  been  possible  without  the  achievements  of  linguistics,  yet  
we  do  not,  in  the  way  some  critics  of  our  approach  have  suggested,  see  our  
approach  as  a  linguistic  one.  So  what  have  we  used  from  linguistics,  and  how  
have  we  used  it?  And,  equally,  what  have  we  not  used  from  linguistics?  To  start  
with  the  latter  question,  we  have  not  imported  the  theories  and  methodologies  of  
linguistics  directly  into  the  domain  of  the  visual,  as  has  been  done  by  others  
working  in  this  field.  For  instance,  we  do  not  make  a  separation  of  syntax,  

  221  
semantics  and  pragmatics  in  the  domain  of  the  visual;  we  do  not  look  for  (the  
analogues  of)  sentences,  clauses,  nouns,  verbs,  and  so  on,  in  images.  We  take  the  
view  that  language  and  visual  communication  can  both  be  used  to  realize  the  
‘same’  fundamental  systems  of  meaning  that  constitute  our  cultures,  but  that  
each  does  so  by  means  of  its  own  specific  forms,  does  so  differently,  and  
independently.    
 
To  give  an  example,  the  distinction  between  ‘subjective’  and  ‘objective’  meanings  
has  played  an  important  role  in  Western  culture  ever  since  the  physical  sciences  
began  to  develop  in  the  sixteenth  century.  This  distinction  can  be  realized  (that  
is,  given  concrete,  material  expression,  hence  made  perceivable  and  
communicable)  with  linguistic  as  well  as  visual  means.  The  terms  ‘subjective’  and  
‘objective’  can  therefore  be  applied  to  both:  they  belong  to  the  meaning  potential  
of  a  culture  and  its  society.  But  the  way  the  distinction  is  realized  in  language  is  
quite  different  from  the  way  it  is  realized  in  images.  For  example,  in  language  an  
idea  can  be  realized  subjectively  by  using  a  ‘mental  process  verb’  like  believe  in  
the  first  person  (e.g.  We  believe  that  there  is  a  grammar  of  images);  or  
objectively  through  the  absence  of  such  a  form  (e.g.  There  is  a  grammar  of  
images).  Visual  representation,  too,  can  realize  both  subjectivity,  through  the  
presence  of  a  perspectival  angle,  and  objectivity,  through  its  absence.  Mental  
process  clauses  and  nominalization  are  unique  to  language.  Perspective  is  unique  
to  images.  But  the  kinds  of  meaning  expressed  are  from  the  same  broad  domain  
in  each  case;  and  the  forms,  different  as  they  are,  were  developed  in  the  same  
period,  in  response  to  the  same  cultural  changes.  Both  language  and  visual  
communication  express  meanings  belonging  to  and  structured  by  cultures  in  the  
one  society;  the  semiotic  processes,  though  not  the  semiotic  means,  are  broadly  
similar;  and  this  results  in  a  considerable  degree  of  congruence  between  the  two.    
 
At  the  same  time,  however,  each  medium  has  its  own  possibilities  and  limitations  
of  meaning.  Not  everything  that  can  be  realized  in  language  can  also  be  realized  
by  means  of  images,  or  vice  versa.  As  well  as  a  broad  cultural  congruence,  there  
is  significant  difference  between  the  two  (and  other  semiotic  modes,  of  course).  
In  a  language  such  as  English  one  needs  to  use  a  verb  in  order  to  make  a  full  
utterance  (believe,  is);  and  language  has  to  use  names  to  refer  to  whatever  is  to  
be  represented  (a  grammar  of  images,  believe,  we).  But  language  does  not  have  
or  need  angles  of  vision  to  achieve  perspective,  nor  does  it  have  or  need  spatial  
dispositions  of  elements  to  achieve  the  meanings  of  syntactic  relations:  images  
have  and  need  both.  The  meaning  potentials  of  the  two  modes  are  neither  fully  
conflated  nor  entirely  opposed.  We  differ  from  those  who  see  the  meaning  of  
language  as  inherent  in  the  forms  and  the  meaning  of  images  as  derived  from  the  
context,  or  the  meanings  of  language  as  ‘conscious’  and  the  meanings  of  images  
as  ‘unconscious’.  
 
To  return  to  the  first  of  our  two  questions  –  What  have  we  used  from  linguistics,  
and  how  have  we  used  it?  –  perhaps  the  most  significant  borrowing  is  our  overall  
approach,  an  ‘attitude’  which  assumes  that,  as  a  resource  for  representation,  
images,  like  language,  will  display  regularities,  which  can  be  made  the  subject  of  
relatively  formal  description.  We  call  this  a  ‘grammar’  to  draw  attention  to  
culturally  produced  regularity.  More  specifically,  we  have  borrowed  ‘semiotic  

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orientations’,  features  which  we  taken  to  be  general  to  all  human  meaning-­‐
making,  irrespective  of  mode.  For  instance,  we  think  that  the  distinction  between  
‘objectivity’  and  ‘subjectivity’  is  a  general  cultural/semiotic  issue  which  can  be  
realized  linguistically  as  well  as  visually,  though  differently  so,  as  we  have  said.    
Or,  as  another  instance,  we  have  taken  Michael  Halliday’s  social  semiotic  
approach  to  language  as  a  model,  as  a  source  for  thinking  about  general  social  
and  semiotic  processes,  rather  than  as  a  mine  for  categories  to  apply  in  the  
description  of  images.  His  model  with  its  three  functions  is  a  starting  point  for  
our  account  of  images,  not  because  the  model  works  well  for  language  (which  it  
does,  to  an  extent),  but  because  it  works  well  as  a  source  for  thinking  about  all  
modes  of  representation.  
*  

A  Social  Semiotic  Theory  of  Communication  

 
In  order  to  function  as  a  full  system  of  communication,  the  visual,  like  all  
semiotic  modes,  has  to  serve  several  representational  and  communicational  
requirements.  We  have  adopted  the  theoretical  notion  of  ‘metafunction’  from  the  
work  of  Michael  Halliday  for  this  purpose.  The  three  metafunctions  which  he  
posits  are  the  ideational,  the  interpersonal  and  the  textual.  In  the  form  in  which  
we  gloss  them  here  they  apply  to  all  semiotic  modes,  and  are  not  specific  to  
speech  or  writing.  
 
The  ideational  metafunction  
 
Any  semiotic  mode  has  to  be  able  to  represent  aspects  of  the  world  as  it  is  
experienced  by  humans.  In  other  words,  it  has  to  be  able  to  represent  objects  and  
their  relations  in  a  world  outside  the  representational  system.  That  world  may  of  
course  be,  and  most  frequently  is,  already  semiotically  represented.  In  doing  so,  
semiotic  modes  offer  an  array  of  choices,  of  different  ways  in  which  objects,  and  
their  relations  to  other  objects  and  to  processes,  can  be  represented.  Two  objects  
may  be  represented  as  involved  in  a  process  of  interaction  which  could  be  
visually  realized  by  vectors:  
 

 
But  objects  can  also  related  in  other  ways,  for  instance  in  terms  of  a  
classification.  They  would  be  connected,  not  by  a  vector  but,  for  instance,  by  a  
‘tree’  structure:    

  223  
  
The  interpersonal  metafunction  
 
Any  semiotic  mode  has  to  be  able  to  project  the  relations  between  the  producer  
of  a  (complex)  sign,  and  the  receiver/reproducer  of  that  sign.  That  is,  any  mode  
has  to  be  able  to  represent  a  particular  social  relation  between  the  producer,  the  
viewer  and  the  object  represented.  
 
As  in  the  case  of  the  ideational  metafunction,  modes  offer  an  array  of  choices  for  
representing  different  ‘interpersonal’  relations,  some  of  which  will  be  favoured  
in  one  form  of  visual  representation  (say,  in  the  naturalistic  image),  others  in  
another  (say,  in  the  diagram).  A  depicted  person  may  be  shown  as  addressing  
viewers  directly,  by  looking  at  the  camera.  This  conveys  a  sense  of  interaction  
between  the  depicted  person  and  the  viewer.  But  a  depicted  person  may  also  be  
shown  as  turned  away  from  the  viewer,  and  this  conveys  the  absence  of  a  sense  
of  interaction.  It  allows  the  viewer  to  scrutinize  the  represented  characters  as  
though  they  were  specimens  in  a  display  case.  
 
The  textual  metafunction  
 
Any  semiotic  mode  has  to  have  the  capacity  to  form  texts,  complexes  of  signs  
which  cohere  both  internally  with  each  other  and  externally  with  the  context  in  
and  for  which  they  were  produced.  Here,  too,  visual  grammar  makes  a  range  of  
resources  available:  different  compositional  arrangements  to  allow  the  
realization  of  different  textual  meanings.  In  figure  D9.1,  for  example,  the  text  is  
on  the  left  and  the  picture  on  the  right.  Changing  the  layout  (figure  D9.1)  would  
completely  alter  the  relation  between  written  text  and  image  and  the  meaning  of  
the  whole.  The  image,  rather  than  the  written  text,  would  now  serve  as  point  of  
departure,  as  ‘anchor’  for  the  message.    

  224  
  
Figure  D9.1  
 

 
Figure  D9.2  
 

Issues  to  consider  

 
 In  the  beginning  of  this  excerpt  Kress  and  van  Leeuwen  give  a  historical  
account  of  the  relationship  between  text  and  image  beginning  with  the  
15th  century.  How  do  you  think  the  importance  of  images  in  
communication  has  changed  over  time,  especially  in  relation  to  media  like  
the  Internet  and  mobile  phones?  Do  you  think  images  function  differently  
in  communication  than  they  did  before?    
 
 Kress  and  van  Leeuwen  say  ‘Both  language  and  visual  communication  
express  meanings  belonging  to  and  structured  by  cultures  in  the  one  
society.’  Does  this  mean  that  the  visual  grammar  of  different  cultures  is  
likely  to  be  as  different  at  their  languages?  To  what  degree  does  visual  
communication  transcend  different  cultures  in  ways  that  language  
cannot?    

  225  
  
 Look  at  figures  D9.1  and  D9.2.  Which  arrangement  of  text  and  image  
seems  more  ‘natural’  to  you?  Can  you  ‘translate’  the  differences  between  
these  two  arrangements  into  language?    
 

B.    
 

Sigrid  Norris  (reprinted  from  Analyzing  multimodal  interaction:  A  methodological  

framework.  London:  Routledge,  2004,  pp.  1-­‐3,  9-­‐13)  
 

Multimodal  Interaction  Analysis  

 
All  interactions  are  multimodal.  Imagine,  for  example,  a  simple  two-­‐person  
interaction,  a  conversation  with  a  friend.  During  this  interaction,  you  are  aware  
of  your  friend  's  spoken  language,  so  that  you  hear  the  verbal  choices,  the  
content,  the  prosody,  and  the  pitch.  You  are  also  aware  of  the  way  that  your  
friend  is  standing  or  sitting,  the  way  that  your  friend  is  nodding  or  leaning  back  
or  forward;  you  are  aware  of  your  friend  's  facial  expression,  and  clothing,  just  as  
you  are  aware  of  the  environment  in  which  this  interaction  takes  place.  If  there  is  
music  playing  in  the  background,  even  though  you  are  not  focusing  on  the  music,  
you  are  aware  of  it.  All  of  these  elements  play  a  part  in  this  conversation.  You  
may  react  to  the  words  that  your  friend  is  speaking  as  much  as  you  may  react  to  
your  friend's  facial  expression  or  the  posture  that  your  friend  is  taking  up  
towards  you.  You  may  speak  quickly  or  slowly,  depending  on  the  music  playing  
in  the  background  or  the  given  environment  that  the  interaction  takes  place  in.  
Intuitively  we  know  that  we  draw  on  all  of  these  communicative  channels  or  
modes  when  interacting  with  others.  We  also  know  that  we  are  aware  of  many  
things  that  surround  us  while  we  interact  with  others.  Let  us  keep  thinking  about  
a  conversation.  No  matter  where  it  may  take  place,  you  are  certainly  aware  
whether  other  people  are  present  in  close  proximity.  Thus,  if  your  conversation  
takes  place  at  a  table  in  a  cafeteria,  you  are  aware  of  others  talking,  eating,  or  
passing  by  your  table.  You  may  not  take  much  notice  of  these  other  people,  
because  you  are  focused  on  your  conversation,  but  you  are  aware  of  them  
nevertheless.  
 

Interactional  Meaning  
 
Generally  it  is  assumed  that  we  can  communicate  best  through  our  use  of  
language.  Language  seems  to  have  the  most  informative  content,  which  can  
easily  be  employed  without  a  need  for  other  channels.  We  may  speak  on  the  
phone,  Write  emails,  or  go  to  chat-­‐rooms.  In  each  case,  we  use  language,  either  
spoken  or  written,  to  communicate.  
 
But  when  thinking  about  TV  or  the  Internet,  it  is  clear  that  we  also  communicate  

  226  
through  images.  Often,  viewing  an  image  may  carry  more.  We  may  even  feel  that  
the  image  has  more  "reality"  to  it  than  a  written  description  of  the  same  image  
would  have.  This  realization  questions  the  notion  that  the  process  of  
communicating  is  dependent  upon  language.  Just  as  moving  images  or  still  
photos  can  communicate  meaning  to  the  viewer,  nonverbal  channels  such  as  
gesture,  posture,  or  the  distance  between  people  can  -­‐  and  do  -­‐  carry  meaning  in  
any  face-­‐to-­‐face  interaction.  
 
All  movements,  all  noises,  and  all  material  objects  carry  interactional  
meaning  as  soon  as  they  are  perceived  by  a  person.  Previously,  language  has  
been  viewed  as  constituting  the  central  channel  in  interaction,  and  nonverbal  
channels  have  been  viewed  as  being  subordinated  to  it.  While  much  valuable  
work  on  the  interplay  between  the  verbal  and  nonverbal  has  been  established,  I  
believe  that  the  view  which  unquestionably  positions  language  at  the  center  
limits  our  understanding  of  the  complexity  of  interaction.  
 
Therefore,  I  will  step  away  from  the  notion  that  language  always  plays  the  
central  role  in  interaction,  without  denying  that  it  often  does.  Language,  
as  Kress  et  al.  (200  I)  have  noted,  is  only  one  mode  among  many,  which  may  or  
may  not  take  a  central  role  at  any  given  moment  in  an  interaction.  In  this  view,  
gesture,  gaze,  or  head  movement  may  be  subordinated  to  the  verbal  exchanges  
going  on  as  has  been  shown  in  much  research.    
 
However,  gesture,  gaze,  and  head  movement  also  may  take  the  superior  position  
in  a  given  interaction,  while  language  may  be  subordinated  or  absent  altogether.  
Alternatively,  sometimes  many  communicative  channels  play  an  integral  part  in  
a  given  interaction,  without  one  channel  being  more  important  than  another.  
 
While  we  all  intuitively  know  that  people  in  interaction  draw  on  a  multiplicity  of  
communicative  modes,  and  that  people  in  interaction  are  aware  of  much  more  
than  just  what  they  are  focused  upon,  an  analysis  of  such  multimodal  interaction  
brings  with  it  many  challenges.    

 
Structure  and  Materiality  
 
One  challenge  for  the  analysis  of  multimodal  interaction  is  that  the  different  
communicative  modes  of  language,  gesture,  gaze,  and  material  objects  are  
structured  in  significantly  different  ways.  While  spoken  language  is  sequentially  
structured,  gesture  is  globally  synthetically  structured,  which  means  that  we  can  
not  simply  add  one  gesture  on  to  another  gesture  to  make  a  more  complex  one.  
In  language,  we  can  add  a  prefix  to  a  word,  making  the  word  more  complex;  or  
we  can  add  subordinate  clauses  to  a  main  clause,  making  the  sentence  more  
complex.  With  gestures,  this  is  not  possible,  since  gestures  that  are  linked  to  
language  inform  about  global  content  or  intensity.  Gaze,  however,  may  be  
sequentially  structured,  and  during  conversation  it  often  is.  But,  during  other  
interactions,  gaze  can  be  quite  random.  For  example,  when  you  walk  through  the  
woods  with  a  friend,  your  gaze  may  wander  randomly,  focusing  on  a  tree,  a  rock,  
or  nothing  at  all.  Then  there  are  other  communicative  modes,  which  are  

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structured  even  more  differently.  
 
As  we  will  see,  furniture  is  a  mode,  and  when  thinking  about  it,  we  find  a  
functional  structure.  Chairs  are  usually  located  around  a  table,  or  a  reading  lamp  
is  located  next  to  an  easy  chair.  Thus,  different  modes  of  communication  are  
structured  in  very  different  ways.  
 
Another  challenge  for  the  analysis  of  multimodal  interaction  is  the  fact  that  
different  communicative  modes  possess  different  materiality.  For  example,  
spoken  language  is  neither  visible  nor  enduring,  but  it  does  have  audible  
materiality.  Gesture,  however,  has  visible  materiality  but  is  also  quite  fleeting.  
The  mode  of  print  has  more  visible  materiality  and  is  also  enduring;  and  the  
mode  of  layout,  thinking  about  furniture,  for  example,  has  highly  visible  
materiality  and  is  extensively  enduring.  
 
*  

Heuristic  Units  
 
The  first  step  to  a  multimodal  analysis  of  interaction  is  a  basic  understanding  of  
an  array  of  communicative  modes.  modes  such  as  proxemics,  posture,  head  
movement,  gesture,  gaze,  spoken  language,  layout,  print,  music,  to  name  several,  
are  essentially  systems  of  representation.  A  system  of  representation  or  mode  of  
communication  is  a  semiotic  system  with  rules  and  regularities  attached  to  it  
(Kress  and  Van  Leeuwen,  2001).  I  like  to  call  these  systems  of  representation  
communicative  modes  when  I  emphasize  their  interactional  communicative  
function.  
 
A  communicative  mode  is  never  a  bounded  or  static  unit,  but  always  
and  only  a  heuristic  unit.  The  term  "heuristic"  highlights  the  plainly  explanatory  
function  ,  and  also  accentuates  the  constant  tension  and  contradiction  between  
the  system  of  representation  and  the  real-­‐time  interaction  among  social  actors.  
A  system  of  representation  -­‐  a  writing  system,  for  example  -­‐  is  usually  thought  of  
as  a  given  system  that  exists  in  and  by  itself  once  it  is  developed.    
 
While  such  a  system  changes  over  time,  we  can  describe  the  system  in  the  form  
of  dictionaries  and  grammars,  showing  the  rules  and  regularities  that  exist.  
Taking  this  thought  further,  we  could  describe  systems  of  representation  like  
gesture,  gaze,  layout,  etc.  in  a  similar  way  to  a  written  language,  by  developing  
certain  in  dictionaries  and  grammars  of  these  communicative  modes.  
 

Communicative  Modes  in  Interaction  

 
When  observing  an  interaction  and  trying  to  discern  all  of  the  communicative  
modes  that  the  individuals  are  utilizing,  we  soon  notice  that  this  is  a  rather  
overwhelming  task.  People  move  their  bodies,  hands,  arms,  and  heads,  and  while  
the  observer  may  try  to  understand  the  content  of  what  is  being  spoken,  they  
have  already  missed  many  important  messages  which  each  speaker  is  sending  -­‐  
intentionally  or  not  -­‐  and  the  other  speaker  is  reacting  to  through  other  modes.  

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Yet,  a  multimodal  interactional  analysis  is  not  as  impossible  as  one  may  think.  
First,  the  analyst  needs  to  become  skilled  at  distinguishing  one  communicative  
mode  from  others.  Then  the  analyst  is  ready  to  investigate  how  modes  play  
together  in  interaction.  
 
When  working  with  real-­‐time  interaction,  we  discover  that  there  is  constant  
tension  and  contradiction  between  the  system  of  representation  and  the  event.  
Individuals  in  interaction  draw  on  systems  of  representation  while  at  the  same  
time  constructing,  adopting,  and  changing  those  systems  through  their  actions.  
In  turn,  all  actions  that  individuals  perform  are  mediated  by  the  systems  of  
representation  that  they  draw  on.  
 

Unit  of  Analysis  

 
As  I  mentioned  in  the  introduction,  the  differing  structures  and  materiality  of  
modes  were  challenges  that  needed  to  be  overcome,  as  an  integrative  
multimodal  approach  required  a  single  unit  of  analysis  that  allowed  for  the  
communicative  modes  to  be  structurally  and  materially  different.  In  multimodal  
interaction  al  analysis,  the  mediated  action  is  the  unit  of  analysis,  and  since  every  
action  is  mediated,  I  will  simply  speak  of  the  action  as  the  unit  of  analysis.  The  
action  as  unit  of  analysis,  however,  is  still  a  complicated  issue,  because  there  are  
smaller  (lower-­‐level)  and  larger  (higher-­‐level)  actions.  Take,  for  example,  a  
person  uttering  the  words  "good  morning."  This  is  an  intonation  unit  the  unit  
that  discourse  analysts  rely  on.  But  this  intonation  unit  can  also  be  defined  as  a  n  
action,  and  more  specifically,  as  a  lower-­‐level  action.  Now,  take  a  meeting  among  
three  friends,  which  can  be  called  a  conversation,  a  moment  in  time,  or  a  social  
encounter.  This  meeting  can  also  be  called  an  action,  however,  and  more  
specifically,  a  higher-­‐level  action.  This  use  of  action  as  a  unit  of  analysis  may  
seem  confusing  at  first  sight.  However,  let  us  think  about  the  specific  example  of  
a  meeting  among  three  friends  -­‐  to  illustrate  the  usefulness  of  this  unit  of  
analysis.  The  meeting  is  taken  to  be  the  higher-­‐level  action.  This  higher-­‐level  
action  is  bracketed  by  an  opening  and  a  closing  of  the  meeting  and  is  made  up  of  
a  multiplicity  of  chain  d  lower-­‐level  actions.  All  intonation  units  that  an  
individual  strings  together  become  a  chain  of  lower-­‐level  actions.  All  gesture  
units  that  an  individual  performs  become  a  chain  of  lower-­‐level  actions.  All  
postural  shifts  that  an  individual  completes  become  a  chain  of  lower-­‐level  
actions.  All  gaze  shifts  that  an  individual  performs  become  a  chain  of  lower-­‐level  
actions,  and  so  on.  Consequently,  all  higher-­‐level  actions  are  made  up  of  multiple  
chains  of  lower-­‐level  actions.  
 
The  chains  of  lower-­‐level  actions  are  easily  understood  when  talking  about  
embodied  communicative  modes  like  gaze,  gesture,  or  spoken  language.  But  
disembodied  modes  can  play  just  as  important  a  role  in  interaction  as  do  the  
embodied  modes.  
 
Modes  like  print  -­‐  a  magazine  that  participants  are  reading  or  that  is  just  lying  on  
a  table  for  anyone  to  see;  or  layout  -­‐  the  furniture  in  a  room,  pictures  hung  on  a  
wall,  or  a  busy  street  with  signs,  buildings,  and  walkways,  are  disembodied  

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modes.  These  modes  can  also  be  analyzed  by  using  the  unit  of  analysis,  the  
(mediated)  action.  However,  here  the  unit  of  analysis  is  the  frozen  action.  Frozen  
actions  are  usually  higher-­‐level  actions  which  were  performed  by  an  individual  
or  a  group  of  people  at  an  earlier  time  than  the  real-­‐time  moment  of  the  
interaction  that  is  being  analyzed.  
 
These  actions  are  frozen  in  the  material  objects  themselves  and  are  therefore  
evident.  When  we  see  a  magazine  lying  on  a  table,  we  know  that  somebody  has  
purchased  the  magazine  and  placed  it  on  the  table.  Thus,  the  chains  of  lower-­‐
level  actions  that  somebody  had  to  perform  in  order  for  the  magazine  to  be  
present  on  the  table  are  perceptible  by  the  mere  presence  of  the  magazine  itself.    
 
The  same  is  true  for  furniture,  pictures  on  walls,  houses  in  cities,  or  a  CD  playing.  
Material  objects  or  disembodied  modes,  which  we  are  concerned  with  here  
because  individuals  draw  upon  them  in  interaction,  necessarily  entail  higher-­‐
level  actions  (which  are  made  up  of  chained  lower-­‐level  actions).  
 
We  can  think  of  lower-­‐level  actions  as  the  actions  that  are  f1uiclJy  performed  by  
an  individual  in  interaction.  Each  lower-­‐level  action  is  mediated  by  a  system  of  
representation  (which  includes  body  parts  such  as  the  lips,  etc.  for  spoken  
language;  or  hands,  arms,  and  fingers  for  manual  gestures).  Higher-­‐level  actions  
develop  from  a  sum  of  fluidly  performed  chains  of  lower-­‐level  actions,  so  that  the  
higher-­‐level  actions  are  also  fluid  and  develop  in  real-­‐time.  Every  higher-­‐level  
action  is  bracketed  by  social  openings  and  closings  that  are  at  least  in  part  
ritualizcd.  When  the  three  friends  get  together  for  their  meeting,  the  higher-­‐level  
action  of  that  meeting  is  opened  up  by  the  physical  coming  together  or  the  
friends  and  by  ritualized  greetings.  Similarly,  this  overarching  higher-­‐level  action  
will  be  ended  by  ritualized  greetings  and  a  parting  or  the  individuals.  Embedded  
within  such  a  higher-­‐level  action,  we  find  other  higher-­‐level  actions  such  as  a  
conversation  between  two  or  the  three  members,  or  another  conversation  
among  all  three  of  them  .  Besides  conversations,  we  may  also  find  higher-­‐level  
actions  which  develop  from  a  sum  of  other  lower-­‐level  actions  in  which  there  is  
little  or  no  talk  involved,  like  the  higher-­‐level  action  or  consuming  food  and/or  
drink.  
 
While  lower-­‐level  and  higher-­‐level  actions  are  fluidly  constructed  in  interaction,  
frozen  actions  are  higher-­‐level  actions,  which  are  entailed  in  an  object  or  a  
disembodied  mode.  To  understand  this  concept,  we  can  think  about  ice.  Similarly  
to  the  freezing  of  water,  actions  are  frozen  in  the  material  objects  present  in  
interaction.  
 

Issues  to  consider  

 
 Norris  talks  about  how  the  materiality  of  a  mode  affects  the  way  it  
structures  meaning  and  action.  What  implications  does  this  have  when  
people  wish  to  ‘translates’  meanings  from  one  mode  to  another?  Can  you  
give  some  examples?    
 

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  ‘A  communicative  mode,’  says  Norris,  ‘is  never  a  bounded  or  static  unit,  
but  always  and  only  a  heuristic  unit.’  What  does  she  mean  by  this?  What  
are  the  advantages  of  keeping  the  concept  of  ‘communicative  mode’  
flexible  and  contingent?    

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D10  FINDING  ‘DISCOURSES’  WITH  CORPUS-­‐ASSISTED  
ANALYSIS  
 
The  following  excerpt  is  from  a  study  by  Paul  Baker  and  Tony  McEnery  on  the  
portrayal  of  refugees  in  British  newspapers  and  texts  from  the  Office  of  the  
United  Nations  High  Commission  on  Refugees.  The  excerpt  included  here  deals  
only  with  the  newspaper  texts,  which  the  authors  demonstrate  portray  refugees  
as  packages,  invaders  and  pests.  Baker  and  McEnery  make  the  argument  in  this  
article  that  lexical  choice  plays  an  important  role  in  the  construction  of  
‘Discourses’  and  the  expression  of  ideology.    
 

A  corpus-­‐based  approach  to  discourses  of  refugees  and  asylum  seekers  in  
UN  and  newspaper  texts  
 

Paul  Baker  and  Tony  McEnery  (reprinted  from    Journal  of  Language  and  Politics  4  
(2),  2005,  pp.  197–226)  
 

Discourses  
 
A  discourse  can  be  conceptualised  as  a  “system  of  statements  which  constructs  
an  object”  (Parker  1992:  5).  Discourse  is  further  categorised  by  Burr  (1995:  48)  
as:  
 
a  set  of  meanings,  metaphors,  representations,  images,  stories,  statements  
and  so  on  that  in  some  way  together  produce  a  particular  version  of  
events...  Surrounding  any  one  object,  event,  person  etc.,  there  may  be  a  
variety  of  different  discourses,  each  with  a  different  story  to  tell  about  the  
world,  a  different  way  of  representing  it  to  the  world.  
 
Discourses  are  not  valid  descriptions  of  people’s  ‘beliefs’  or  ‘opinions’,  and  they  
cannot  be  taken  as  representing  an  inner,  essential  aspect  of  identity  such  as  
personality  or  attitude.  Instead,  they  are  connected  to  practices  and  structures  
that  are  lived  out  in  society  from  day  to  day.  
 
One  way  that  researchers  can  be  confident  in  their  claims  about  the  existence  of  
discourses  is  to  highlight  “patterns  of  association  —  how  lexical  items  tend  to  co-­‐
occur  —  are  built  up  over  large  amounts  of  text  and  are  often  unavailable  to  
intuition  or  conscious  awareness.  They  can  convey  messages  implicitly  and  even  
be  at  odds  with  an  overt  statement.”  (Hunston  2002:  109).  In  order  to  explore  
how  refugees  are  constructed  in  news  discourse  we  chose  to  build  and  use  
corpora  of  news  texts.    
 

Data  and  Method  

 

  232  
The  British  newspaper  texts  (referred  to  hereafter  as  the  News  Corpus)  were  
collected  from  an  internet  archive  called  Newsbank,  the  criteria  for  selecting  
news  articles  being  that  the  article  had  to  contain  the  words  refugee(s)  or  the  
phrases  asylum  seeker(s)  and  had  to  have  been  published  in  2003.  
 

 
Results  
 
Concordances  (tables  showing  all  of  the  examples  of  a  search  term  in  the  context  
that  it  appears  in)  of  the  words  refugee  (53  occurrences)  and  refugees  (87)  were  
carried  out  on  the  76,205  word  News  Corpus.  In  addition,  concordance  searches  
of  the  words  they  and  them  uncovered  anaphoric  references  to  refugees  which  
were  also  included  in  the  analysis.  In  order  to  uncover  linguistic  patterns  
surrounding  the  search  words,  the  concordances  were  sorted  alphabetically  
using  the  words  directly  to  the  left  and  right  of  the  search  terms,  and  the  
descriptive  clauses  and  phrases  which  were  used  to  refer  to  the  target  words  
were  then  grouped  into  categories  of  similarity.  
 
Quantification  
 
An  initial  analysis  reveals  that  refugees  are  commonly  described  in  terms  of  
where  they  are  from  (e.g.  Sierra  Leone,  Bangladesh,  Afghanistan,  Iran,  Kosovo,  
Algeria  etc.),  where  they  currently  are  (France,  Sangatte,  the  Belgian  border  etc.)  
or  where  they  are  going.  A  smaller  set  of  terms  describe  refugees  in  terms  of  the  
circumstances  which  created  them,  although  these  words  are  vague  (eco  nomic,  
political,  war,  wartime).  
 
One  of  the  other  most  common  ways  of  describing  refugees  in  the  News  Corpus  
is  by  providing  a  pre-­‐modifying  quantification  (Table  2).  This  is  often  given  as  a  
rough  estimate  by  reporters  —  e.g.  tens  of  thousands  or  up  to  100  ref-­  ugees.  
Sometimes  numbers  are  described  as  growing:  more  and  more  refugees.  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

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Table  2:  Quantification  of  Refugees  in  News  Corpus  

 
 
In  some  cases,  these  types  of  quantification  suggest  that  the  volume  of  refugees  
is  troublesome.  In  the  example  below,  the  reference  to  the  large  number  (a  mob,  
up  to  100)  of  refugees  in  the  article  serves  to  enhance  their  danger.  
 
“BRITISH  journalist  Robert  Fisk  was  attacked  and  beaten  up  by  a  mob  of  Af-­‐  
ghan  refugees  in  Pakistan  yesterday...  He  suffered  head,  face  and  hand  inju-­‐  
ries  after  being  pelted  with  stones  by  up  to  100  refugees.”  
 
Many  of  the  attempts  to  quantify  refugees  suggest  an  underlying  discourse  
concerning  alarm  over  their  growing  numbers.  
 
“Mr  Endres  said  Kabul  risked  straining  under  the  weight  of  refugees  in  
transit.”  
 
“The  camp...  is  currently  filled  far  beyond  capacity.  Because  of  the  upheaval  
in  Afghanistan,  which  is  swelling  the  number  of  refugees  daily...”  
 
In  the  first  example,  refugees  are  likened  to  a  dangerous  mass  or  heavy  load  
(note  the  use  of  the  words  straining  and  weight)  while  in  the  second,  refugees  
are  constructed  as  liquid  (filled  beyond  capacity,  swelling).  Such  a  feature  may  not  
be  peculiar  to  British  newspaper  texts;  Reisigl  and  Wodak  (2001:  59)  note  that  
the  description  of  immigrants  and  the  effects  of  immigration  in  terms  of  negative  
metaphors  is  a  common  feature  of  German  and  Austrian  discourses.  They  list  
nineteen  different  types  of  metaphors,  including  plants,  fire,  blood,  disease  and  

  234  
food.  We  look  at  some  of  the  metaphors  in  the  News  and  UNHCR  Corpora  in  the  
following  sections.  
 
Movement  
 
A  set  of  words  which  describe  refugees  are  concerned  with  their  movement  
(Table  3),  often  using  verb  phrases  which  suggest  a  range  of  evaluative  
responses  which  construct  refugees  as  victims  or  a  collective  group  undergoing  
suffer-­‐  ing:  e.g.  fleeing  refugees,  refugees  trudge  aimlessly,  hunched  against  a  
biting  wind,  roads  heave  with  refugees.  As  with  the  filled  far  beyond  capacity  
example  noted  earlier,  a  number  of  movement  metaphors  liken  refugees  to  
water  in  some  way:  swelling  the  numbers  of  refugees,  the  flood  of  refugees,  
refugees  are  streaming  home,  refugees  are  streaming  back  to  their  homes,  
overflowing  refugee  camps.  
 
Streaming  collocates  (or  significantly  often  co-­‐occurs)  in  the  BNC  with  the  words  
tears,  blood,  sweat,  water  and  rain  and  often  occurs  in  a  negative  context,  e.g.  
“tears  streaming  down  his  face”.  Overflowing  collocates  strongly  in  the  BNC  with  
leaking  and  water.  Swelling  (462  occurrences  in  the  BNC)  collocates  most  
strongly  with  words  which  suggest  medical  contexts:  e.g.  redness,  bruising,  pain,  
chest.  However,  swell  which  occurs  more  often  (566  times  in  the  BNC)  collocates  
with  words  connected  to  water:  waves,  Atlantic,  ocean,  sea,  water.  The  phrase  
flood  of  collocates  most  strongly  with  refugees  in  the  BNC,  with  tears  and  
immigrants  occurring  second  and  third  respectively.  Again,  flood  is  connected  to  
water  and  to  tragedy.  
 
In  a  sense  then,  refugees  are  constructed  as  a  ‘natural  disaster’  like  a  flood,  which  
is  difficult  to  control  as  it  has  no  sense  of  its  own  agency.  Again,  this  is  not  
peculiar  to  British  newspaper  texts;  similar  water  metaphors  were  also  found  by  
Refaie  (2001)  in  an  analysis  of  Austrian  newspaper  articles  about  Kurdish  
asylum  seekers  in  Italy.  
 
Phrases  such  as  “trudge  aimlessly”  help  to  construct  refugees  as  having  no  real  
understanding  of  their  situation  or  what  motivates  them.  Consider  the  phrase  
“desultory  groups  of  refugees”  (Table  3,  line  8).  Desultory  is  a  fairly  rare  word  in  
general  British  English,  occurring  only  103  times  in  the  BNC,  and  only  collocating  
with  two  lexical  words,  fashion  and  conversation.  Again,  the  word  implies  lack  of  
motivation  or  pattern:  e.g.  “Because  the  session  is  informal  it  is  liable  to  fragment  
into  a  desultory  conversation  with  no  clear  direction.”  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

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Table  3:  Movement  of  refugees  in  the  News  Corpus  

 
 
The  movement  of  refugees  is  constructed  as  an  elemental  force  which  is  difficult  
to  predict  and  has  no  sense  of  control.  If  refugees  are  likened  to  the  movement  of  
water,  then  they  are  dehumanised  and  become  something  that  requires  control  
in  order  to  prevent  disaster  to  others  (e.g.  non-­‐refugees).  
 
As  well  as  describing  the  movement  of  refugees  as  being  almost  random,  a  
number  of  phrases  focus  on  movement  in  terms  of  large  quantities:  e.g.  roads  
heave  with  refugees,  packed  with  refugees.  The  word  packed  collocates  with  
words  suggesting  quantity  or  places  containing  large  numbers  of  people  in  the  
BNC  —  tightly,  densely,  closely,  tight,  crowd,  courtroom,  cinemas,  while  the  verb  
lemma  heave7  collocates  with  words  which  suggest  weight  —  bulk,  broad,  deep,  
great  as  well  as  the  expression  of  emotional  burdens,  e.g.  “Uncle  Wafter  heaved  a  
sigh  and  slumped  back  in  the  chair,  his  hand  covering  his  eyes”  (ex-­‐  ample  taken  
from  the  BNC).  
 

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Closely  related  to  the  notion  of  packed  refugees  are  another  set  of  move-­‐  ment  
descriptors  connected  to  refugees,  associated  with  the  transportation  of  objects  
and  goods.  Refugees  are  delivered,  transported,  carried,  trafficked  and  smuggled.  
“For  the  locals,  no  end  to  the  problem  is  in  sight  as  more  and  more  refugees  are  
delivered  to  northern  France  by  traffickers.”  
 
The  highest  collocate  of  deliver  in  the  BNC  is  goods.  Goods  also  occurs  as  a  strong  
collocate  of  transport,  along  with  cattle,  supplies  and  materials.  Carry  oc-­‐  curs  
much  more  frequently  and  has  a  wider  range  of  collocates,  many  of  which  are  
object-­‐based  nouns:  placards,  firearms,  suitcases,  torches.  Finally,  smuggle  
collocates  most  strongly  with  the  following  lexical  words:  cocaine,  heroin,  drugs,  
drug  and  arms  while  traffic  collocates  with  narcotics,  drugs  and  arms.  
 
Therefore,  as  well  as  being  described  as  an  elemental  force  that  cannot  be  
reasoned  with  (water),  refugees  are  also  constructed  in  terms  of  metaphors  and  
connotational  verbs  which  construct  them  as  transported  goods,  particularly  
illegal  substances  —  again,  as  a  token  of  their  dehumanisation.  
 
Tragedy  
 
Another  discourse  of  refugees  is  to  construct  them  as  ‘tragic’  (see  Table  4).  This  
involves  using  phrases  such  as  the  plight  of,  despair  of  and  tragedy  of.  Plight  
collocates  in  the  BNC  with  groups  such  as  homeless,  refugees,  blacks,  women,  
unemployed  and  children  —  all  identities  that  could  be  constructed  as  power-­‐  
less  in  different  ways.  However,  three  of  the  four  strongest  collocates  of  plight  in  
the  BNC  are  highlighting,  highlight  and  highlighted,  in  sentences  such  as  “It  is  10  
days  since  our  shock  issue  highlighting  the  plight  of  the  starving  in  Somalia”.  
Plight  is  therefore  often  connected  to  attempts  to  heighten  awareness  about  a  
group  which  is  oppressed  or  unfortunate  in  some  way.  
 
Other  words  which  suggest  tragedy  in  connection  with  the  refugee  data  are  
scrounge,  beg,  tedious,  tottering,  solace  and  stricken.  Refugees  are  reported  as  
starving,  dying  while  locked  in  containers,  seeking  solace  in  religion,  queuing  for  
food  and  being  attacked  by  soldiers.  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

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Table  4:Tragic  circumstances  of  refugees  in  the  News  Corpus  

 
 
Official  attempts  to  help  
 
Related  to  the  presentation  of  refugees  as  tragic  victims  is  another  set  of  col-­‐  
locates  which  are  more  concerned  with  external  efforts  to  help  them  (Table  5).  
These  involve  phrases  such  as  refugee  action,  refugee  service,  refugee  agency,  de-­‐  
scribe  official  bodies  involved  in  running  organisations,  and  discuss  attempts  to  
enable  refugees  to  ‘integrate  into  society’,  particularly  by  learning  the  lan-­‐  guage  
of  their  host  country  or  by  going  to  school.  The  grammatical  pattern  X  for  
refugees  is  a  relatively  common  example  of  this  ‘helping’  discourse  trace.  In  
addition,  terms  such  as  shelter,  help,  concern,  mercy  and  rescue  contribute  to  the  
construction  of  this  discourse  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

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Table  5:    Official  attempts  to  help  in  the  News  Corpus  

 
 
Crime  and  nuisance  
 
in  East  Timor;  integrate  into  society.  Action.  Here,  Belinda  Beresford  in  agency.  
children  who  were  rescued  from  Service,  said:  “If  she  went  into  Afg  of  
Bangladesh  in  1971.  and  she  wanted  into  homes  all  over  the  coun  and  orphans.  
and  the  homeless.  in  Afghanistan.  .  Agencies  are  racing  to  provide  bla  on  the  role  
of  the  peacekeeping  forc  camp.  camp  at  Sangatte.  However,  they  op  ,  and  
confronts  violence  and  power  
 
However,  a  less  common  discourse  constructs  refugees  as  being  connected  to  
crime  and  as  a  nuisance  (Table  6).  In  this  case,  their  presence  ‘pushes  down’  
house  prices  or  causes  a  steep  rise  in  petty  crime.  Such  fears  invoke  a  more  
general  discourse  of  capitalism,  whereby  refugees  are  seen  as  a  threat  to  the  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

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Table  6:  Crime  and  nuisance  in  the  News  Corpus  

 
 
capitalist  way  of  life  by  reducing  the  value  of  property.  As  one  woman  is  re-­‐  
ported  as  saying:  “they  are  a  pest”.  
 
Refugee  camps  are  also  reported  as  hiding  grounds  for  extremists  or  mili-­‐  tants,  
and  refugees  are  also  involved  in  plans  to  enter  countries  illegally  —  e.g.  “to  
storm  the  channel  tunnel”.  The  use  of  storm  as  a  verb  suggests  attempts  to  
conquer  —  common  collocates  of  the  verb  lemma  storm  in  the  BNC  include  
troops,  castle,  victory  and  army.  In  this  sense,  refugees  are  invaders.  
 
A  final,  rare  use  of  refugee  in  the  News  Corpus  is  more  metaphorical,  where  it  is  
used  to  describe  people  who  look  like  someone  or  something  else:  
 
“Coming  on  like  some  refugee  from  the  Ricky  Lake  Show,  burly  Fred  spent  
much  of  the  programme  successfully  convincing  Sandra  that  he  thought  the  
first  marriage  had  been  annulled,  and  moaning  to  the  camera  that  he  
‘shouldn’t  be  put  in  jail  for  falling  in  love’.”  
 
“Owen  may  look  like  a  refugee  from  a  Hovis  ad,  but  as  Sven-­‐Goran  Eriksson  
said:  ‘He’s  very  cold  when  he  gets  a  chance  and  he’s  very  quick.’”  
“Last  week  I  watched  some  do-­‐it-­‐yourself  programme  where  a  couple  of  
refu-­‐  gee  presenters  from  the  makeover  toolbox  showed  you  how  to  have  a  
kitsch  Christmas.”  
 
These  three  cases  are  not  from  newspaper  articles  which  are  concerned  with  
actual  refugees.  Instead,  the  phrase  (like)  [determiner]  refugee  from...  is  used  to  
allude  to  a  person’s  similarity  to  something  else.  However,  this  is  a  construc-­‐  tion  
which  contains  an  implicitly  negative  evaluation  —  the  fact  that  such  people  are  
described  as  refugees  at  all  accesses  an  existing  negative  discourse  of  actual  
refugees,  but  it  also  implies  that  they  are  not  viewed  as  possessing  the  identity  
they  are  supposed  to  have,  possibly  because  they  weren’t  competent  at  it,  or  
because  they  look  as  if  they  should  be  something  else.  So  Michael  Owen  (in  the  

  240  
second  example)  is  viewed  not  so  much  as  a  footballer,  but  a  “refugee  from  a  
Hovis  ad(vert)”.  Finally,  the  identity  they  are  supposed  to  resemble  is  
constructed  negatively  —  so  the  phrase  implies  that  the  person  isn’t  even  
competent  to  perform  a  stigmatised  identity  properly,  and  instead  is  a  refugee  
from  it.  

 
Conclusion  
 
The  News  Corpus  is  )particularly)  concerned  with  the  impact  of  refugees  on  the  
UK  rather  than  taking  a  global  perspective.  Attitudes  are  presented  in  (an)  
ambivalent  and  complex  way,  with  refugees  constructed  as  tragic  vic-­‐tims,  an  
out-­‐of-­‐control  mass,  pests  or  potential  invaders.  Metaphors  of  water  or  packages  
serve  to  dehumanise  refugees  further.  The  News  Corpus  also  refers  to  official  
attempts  to  help  refugees,  but  this  is  simply  one  discourse  type  among  many  
which  are  present.  The  fact  that  the  term  refugee  is  used  in  metaphorical  
constructions  “like  some  refugee  from  the  Ricky  Lake  Show”,  reveals  the  negative  
connotation  embedded  within  the  word.  …  
 
Many  of  the  linguistic  strategies  used  to  refer  to  refugees  and  asylum  seekers  —  
such  as  referring  to  them  as  an  indistinguishable  mass  or  vague  quantity,  using  
metaphors,  describing  them  as  bogus  or  referring  to  unspecified  ‘fears’  —  serve  
several  purposes  which  are  linked  to  the  notion  of  racist  discourse.  As  van  Dijk  
(1987:  58)  describes,  there  are  four  topic  classes  for  racist  discourses:  they  are  
different,  they  do  not  adapt,  they  are  involved  in  negative  acts  and  they  threaten  
our  socio-­‐economic  interests.  Hardt-­‐Mautner  (1995:179)  points  out,  “National  
identity  emerges  very  much  as  a  relational  concept,  the  construction  of  ‘self  ’  
being  heavily  dependent  on  the  construction  of  ‘other’”.  The  racist  constructions  
of  refugees  and  asylum  seekers,  therefore,  not  only  construct  a  threat  to  the  
status  quo  and  national  identity  (which  incidentally  helps  to  sell  newspapers),  
they  also  help  to  construct  national  identity  by  articulating  what  it  is  not.  
 
However,  more  encouraging  aspects  of  the  corpus  data  suggest  a  less  preju  diced  
picture  than  earlier  researchers  have  found  when  looking  at  newspaper  data.  
Stereotypes  of  refugees  as  criminal  nuisances  and  constructions  of  asylum  
seekers  as  ‘bogus’  were  still  present  in  the  corpora,  yet  they  were  relatively  rare.    
 
Discourses  which  focused  on  the  problems  encountered  by  refugees  and  asylum  
seekers  and/or  attempts  to  help  them  were  relatively  more  common,  suggesting  
that  in  2003  at  least,  there  was  a  growing  awareness  of  the  need  for  sensitivity  
when  discussing  issues  connected  to  immigration  in  the  UK.  As  Law  et  al.  
(1997:18)  found  in  a  recent  study,  about  three  quarters  of  news  articles  
concerned  with  race  contained  media  frames  
 
“which  seek  to  expose  and  criticise  racist  attitudes,  statements,  actions  and  
policies,  which  address  the  concerns  of  immigrant  and  minority  ethnic  
groups  and  show  their  contribution  to  British  society,  and  which  embrace  
an  inclusive  view  of  multi-­‐cultural  British  identity”.  
 

  241  
A  study  by  Jessika  terWal  concluded  that  “the  British  tabloid  press  no  longer  
seem  to  merit  the  overly  racist  tag  that  they  were  given  by  studies  in  the  early  
1980s.”  (2002:  407).    
 
A  corpus-­‐based  approach  is  therefore  useful,  in  that  it  helps  to  give  a  wider  view  
of  the  range  of  possible  ways  of  discussing  refugees  and  asylum  seekers.  A  more  
qualitative  approach  to  analysis  may  mean  that  saliency  is  perceived  as  more  
important  than  frequency  —  whereby  texts  which  present  shocking  or  extreme  
positions  are  focussed  on  more  than  those  which  are  more  frequent,  yet  neutral.  
While  it  is  important  to  examine  extreme  cases,  it  is  also  useful  to  put  them  into  
perspective  alongside  other  cases.  In  addition,  corpus  data  can  help  us  to  
establish  which  sorts  of  language  strategies  are  most  frequent  or  popular.  For  
example,  the  refugees  as  water  metaphor  was  found  to  be  much  more  frequent  
than  other  metaphors,  such  as  refugees  as  illegal  packages  or  as  invaders.  Rather  
than  simply  listing  the  metaphors  which  appear  in  the  data  then,  we  are  able  to  
get  a  more  accurate  sense  of  which  ones  are  naturalised,  and  which  ones  may  be  
particularly  salient  because  they  are  so  infrequent.  
 
In  addition,  the  corpus-­‐based  approach  enables  the  researcher  to  arrive  at  a  
more  complete  understanding  of  the  meanings  and  functions  of  certain  word  
choices  in  texts  about  refugees  and  asylum  seekers.  The  connotative  use  of  
language  in  critical  discourse  analysis  is  one  of  the  most  fruitful  areas  of  analysis  
available  to  researchers  —  and  by  looking  at  the  collocational  strength  of  lexical  
items  in  a  corpus  of  general  language,  we  are  given  an  objective  sense  of  the  
themes  and  associations  that  are  embedded  in  words  due  to  their  contin-­‐  ual  
pairing  with  other  words.  By  ‘exposing’  the  hidden  collocations  of  certain  words,  
we  can  explain  that  a  certain  word  or  phrase  contains  a  hint  of  bias,  but  have  not  
been  able  to  specify  why.  
 

Issues  to  consider  

 
 Baker  and  McEnery  show    how  the  cumulative  patterning  of  lexical  
features  in  a  corpus  of  texts  can  be  used  to  posit  the  existence  of  a  
particular  ‘Discourse’.  Can  think  of  features  other  than  lexical  choice  that  
might  also  contribute  to  the  construction  of  ‘Discourses’.  How  might  
corpus  analysis  assist  in  detecting  these  features?    
 
 Baker  and  McEnery  combine  a  number  of  different  analytical  techniques,  
both  qualitative  and  quantitative,  in  their  analysis.  How  does  this  
combination  of  techniques  help  to  make  their  analysis  more  convincing?    

  242  
FURTHER  READING  
 

Strand  1:  What  is  discourse?    

 
There  are  many  good  overviews  of  discourse  analysis  including  Brown  and  Yule  
(1983),  Carter  (1997),  Paltridge  (2006),  and  Widdowson  (2007).  Good  edited  
collections  are  Schiffrin  et.  al  (2003)  and  Hyland  and  Paltridge  (2011).  Bhatia  et  
al.  (2007)  focuses  on  more  recent  developments  in  the  field.  Jaworski  and  
Coupland  (2006)  is  a  fine  compilation  of  key  readings.  For  an  elaboration  of  the  
three  approaches  to  discourse,  see  Schiffrin  (1994).  For  more  on  ‘capital  D  
Discourses’  see  Gee  (2010).    
 
 

Strand  2:  Texts  and  texture  

 
For  a  thorough  treatment  of  cohesion  and  other  aspects  of  texture,  see  Martin  
(1992).  Stoddard,  (1991)  is  also  a  good  introduction.  Eggins  (1994)  provides  a  
more  general  overview  of  systemic  functional  linguistics.  A  classic  compliation  of  
papers  on  coherence  in  discourse  is  Tannen  (1984).  Another  important  work  on  
the  structure  and  comprehension  of  narrative  are  Labov  and  Waletzky  (1967),  
Kintsch  (1977).  Carrell  (1984)  discusses  the  effects  of  schema  on  second  
language  readers.  Van  Dijk  and  Kintsch  (1983)  provide  another  perspective  on  
discourse  coherence.  Liu  and  O'Halloran  (2009)  discusses  cohesion  from  a  
multimodal  perspective.    
 
 

Strand  3:  Texts  and  their  social  functions  

 
Apart  from  Bhatia  (1993)  and  Swales  (1990),  Berkenkotter  and  Huckin  (1995)  is  
a  good  introduction  to  genre  analysis.  Johns  (1997)  and  Swales  (2004)  focus  
more  on  academic  genres.  Bhatia  (2004)  gives  a  more  up-­‐to-­‐date  treatment  of  
the  field  of  genre  analysis.  See  Christie  and  Martin  (1997)  for  a  systemic  
functional  view  of  genre.  Bateman  (2008)  takes  a  multimodal  approach  to  genre  
analysis.  Besides  Blood  (2000),  Herring  et  al.  (2004)  is  a  good  analysis  of  the  
genre  of  the  weblog.  
 
 

Strand  4:  Discourse  and  ideology  

 
The  Routledge  English  Language  Introduction  which  focuses  most  on  discourse  
and  ideology  is  Simpson  and  Mayr  (2009)  Language  and  power:  A  resource  book  
for  students.  A  Routledge  English  Language  Introduction  which  offers  more  
information  on  aspects  of  grammar  covered  in  this  strand  is  Jackson  (2002)  
Grammar  and  vocabulary:  A  resource  book  for  students.  Hodge  and  Kress  (1988)  
and  Fairclough  (1992)  are  classic  works  in  the  critical  analysis  of  discourse.  
Good  collections  of  papers  on  critical  discourse  analysis  are  Fairclough  (1995)  

  243  
and  Wodak  and  Meyer  (2001).  Fairclough  (2003)  gives  an  excellent  practical  
introduction  to  the  critical  analysis  of  texts,  and  van  Leeuwen  (2008)  provides  a  
more  practice-­‐based  approach  to  critical  discourse  analysis.    
 
 

Strand  5:  Spoken  discourse  

 
The  Routledge  English  Language  Introduction  which  focuses  most  on  spoken  
discourse  is  Cutting  (2007)  Pragmatics  and  discourse:  A  resource  book  for  
students.  Coulthard  (1992)  is  a  classic  edited  collection  on  the  analysis  of  spoken  
language.  Austin’s  speech  act  theory  was  further  developed  by  Searle  (1966).  
Good  introductions  to  pragmatics  include  Mey  (2001)  and  Verschueren  (1999),  
and  good  introductions  to  conversation  analysis  include  Hutchby  and  Wooffitt  
(2008),  Schegloff  (20007),  and  ten  Have  (2007).  The  lectures  of  Harvey  Sacks  are  
collected  in  Sacks  (1992).  Drew  and  Heritage  (1993)  deals  with  talk  in  
institutional  settings.    
 
 

Strand  6:  Strategic  Interaction  

 
The  classic  work  on  face  strategies  is  Brown  and  Levinson  (1987).  A  more  recent  
book  on  face  and  politeness  is  Watt  (2003).  For  more  information  on  framing  in  
interaction  seen  Tannen  (1993).  Tannen  (2005)  is  a  good  overview  of  
conversational  strategies.  An  excellent  collection  on  discourse  and  identity  from  
an  interactional  sociolinguistic  perspective  is  De  Fina  et  al.  (2006).  A  collection  
dealing  with  speech  styles  and  social  languages  is  Auer  (2007).  For  another  
approach  to  conversational  strategies,  see  the  work  of  Harré  and  van  
Langenhove  (1999)  on  positioning  theory.  For  studies  on  conversational  
strategies  in  computer  mediated  communication  see  Morand  and  Ocker  (2003).  
Losh  (2008)  and  Talamo  and  Ligorio  (2001).      
 
 

Strand  7:  Context,  culture  and  communication  

 
Duranti  and  Goodwin’s  (1992)  edited  collection  provides  multiple  perspectives  
on  the  problem  of  context.  van  Dijk  (2008)  examines  context  from  a  
sociocognitive  perspective.  A  very  accessible  introduction  to  culture  and  
conversation  is  Agar  (1993).  Bauman  and  Sherzer  (1989)  presents  an  overview  
of  the  principles  and  practices  associated  with  the  ethnography  of  
communication,  and  Philipsen  (1975)  is  a  good  example  of  an  application  of  this  
method.  For  more  information  on  ethnographic  research  methods  see  Agar  
(1996)  and  Hammersley  and  Atkinson  (1995).    
 
 
 

  244  
Strand  8:  Mediated  discourse  analysis  
 
Wertsch  (1993)  provides  a  good  introduction  to  the  socio-­‐cultural  theory  on  
which  mediated  discourse  analysis  is  based.  The  seminal  texts  on  mediated  
discourse  analysis  and  nexus  analysis  are  Scollon  (2001)  and  Scollon  and  Scollon  
(2004).  Norris  and  Jones  (2005)  is  a  collection  which  shows  the  wide  range  
contexts  to  which  mediated  discourse  analysis  can  be  applied.  It  also  contains  a  
clear  explanation  of  the  principles  and  terminology  used  in  MDA.  An  alternate  
approach  to  the  analysis  of  computer-­‐mediated  discourse  can  be  found  in  
Herring  (2001).    
 
   

Strand  9:  Multimodal  discourse  analysis  

 
Kress  and  van  Leeuwen  (2001)  is  a  good  theoretical  introduction  to  multimodal  
discourse  analysis.  O’Halloran  (2004)  and  Royce  and  Bowcher  (2006)  are  good  
collections  of  studies  from  a  systemic  functional  perspective.  The  papers  in  
Jewitt  (2009)  present  a  more  varied  range  of  perspectives.  Machin  (2007)  takes  
a  critical  approach  to  multimodality,  and  Forceville  and  Urios-­‐Aparisi  present  an  
approach  informed  by  cognitive  linguistics.  For  more  information  on  the  
transcription  of  multimodal  data  see  Baldry  and  Thibault  (2005)  and  Norris  
(2004).    
 
 

Strand  10:  Corpus-­‐assisted  discourse  analysis  

 
The  Routledge  resource  book  which  focuses  on  corpus-­‐based  analysis  is  
McEnery  and  Xiao  (2006)  Corpus-­based  language  studies:  An  advanced  resource  
book.  Stubbs  (1996)  is  a  well-­‐known  introductory  text  for  corpus-­‐based  
linguistics.  Other  good  introductions  are  Biber  et  al.  (1998)  and  Hunston  (2002).  
Baker  (2006)  provides  a  clear  overview  of  using  corpora  in  discourse  analysis.  A  
classic  application  of  corpus-­‐based  methods  to  critical  discourse  analysis  is  
Orpin  (2005).    

  245  
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Wertsch,  J.V.  (1999).  Mind  as  action.  Oxford:  Oxford  University  Press.  (D8)    
Widdowson,  H.  G.  (1973).  An  applied  linguistic  approach  to  discourse  analysis.  
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Widdowson,  H  G.  (2007).  Discourse  analysis.  New  York:  Oxford  University  Press.  (B1,  
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  255  
GLOSSARIAL  INDEX  
 
 
 
Act  sequence  (B7)    
Actions  (A8,  B8,  B9)    
Frozen  actions  (B9)    
Higher  level  actions  (B9)  
Lower  level  actions  (B9)  
Adjacency  pair  (B5)  
Advice  (C5)  
Affordances  (B8)  
Ambiguity  (A1)  
Analytical  images  (B9)  
Apologies  (C5)  
Assertion  (C4)  
Awareness  (A2)  
 
Blogs  C3)  
 
Classificatory  images  (B9)    
Coherence  (B1,  A2)  
Cohesion  (B1,  A2,  B2,  C2,  D2)  
  Grammatical  (B2)  
  Lexical  (B2)    
  Ties  (D2)  
Collocation  (B10)    
  Span  (B10)    
Common  knowledge  (A2)  
Communicative  competence  (A7)  
Communicative  purpose  (A3)  
Computer  mediated  interactions  (C6)  
Concordance  (B10)    
Conditional  relevance  (A5)    
Conjunction  (B2)  
Connectives  (B2)    
Additive  (B2)  
Causative  (B2)    
Contrastive  (B2)  
  Sequential  (B2)    
Constituency  (D2)  
Constraints  (B8)    
Content  words  (B10)    
Context  (A7)  
Contextualization  cues  (B6)    
Conversation  analysis  (A5)    
Conversational  strategies  (A6)    
Face  strategies  (see  Face)  

  256  
 Framing  strategies  (see  Framing)    
Cooperative  principle  (B5)    
Corpus  (A10)  
  British  National  Corpus  (A10)  
  Cleaning  (B10)  
  Reference  (see  Reference  corpus)      
Tagging  (B10)    
Corpus-­‐assisted  discourse  analysis  (10)    
Critical  discourse  analysis  (B4)    
Culture  (A7)    
Cultural  models  (B2,  A4)  
 
Discourse  (A1,  B1)  
Discourse  analysis  (A1)  
Discourse  community  (A3,  B3,  C3),  D3)    
Discourse  marker  (B6)  
Discourse  practices  (B4)  
Discourse  prosody  (B10)    
Discourse  representation  (C4)    
Discourses  (A4,  A8,  A  10,  B1,  C1)  
Discourses  in  place  (B8)    
Dispersion  plots  (Concordance  plots)  (B10)    
Distributional  analysis  (B1)  
 
Ellipses  (B2)    
Ethnographjy  (A7)    
Ethnography  of  speaking  (communication)  (A7)    
Ethnomethodology  (A5)  
 
Face  (A6)  
  Face  strategies  (A6)  
  Negative  (A6)    
Positive  (A6)  
Face  systems  (A6)  
  Deference  (A6)  
  Hierarchical  (A6)  
  Solidarity  (A6)    
Facebook  (C1,  C6)    
Felicity  conditions  (B5)    
Field  (A7)  
Force  (B5)    
Illocutionary  (B5)  
Locutionary  (B5)  
Perlocutionary  (B5  
Forensic  linguistics  (A10)    
Formal  approach  (B1)  
Frameworks  (A2)  
  Generic  (B2)  
  Interpretive  (B2,  A6,  B6)    

  257  
   Primary  (A6,  B6)    
Framing  (A6)  
  Framing  strategies  (A6)    
Function  words  (B10)    
Functional  approach  (B1)  
 
Gaze  (B9,  C9)  
Genre  (A3,  B3,  C3,  D3)  
Chains  (C3)  
Constraints  (A3)    
Conventions  (A3)  
Ecologies  (C3)  
Move  structure  (A3)  
  Networks  (C3)  
Genre  analysis  (A3)  
Gestures  (A9,  B9,  C9)  
  Beat  gestures  (C9)  
  Deictic  gestures  (C9)  
Iconic  gestures  (C9)    
Metaphoric  gestures  (C9)  
Grammar  (A1)  
 
Historical  body  (B8)    
 
Ideology  (A4,  A8)  
Implicature  (B5)    
Independence  (A6)    
Instrumentalities  (B7)    
Interaction  order  (B8)    
Interactional  sociolinguistics  (A6)  
Interactive  frames  (B6)    
Intermodal  relationships  (B9,  C9)  
Intertextuality  (A2,  A4,  C3,  C4)  
Involvement  (A6)  
 
Key  (B7)  
Keyness  (B10)    
Keyword  analysis  (B10)  
 
Lexical  chains  (B2)    
Lexicography  (A1)  
 
Markedness  (B7)  
Maxims  (Gricean)  (B5)    
Manner  (B5)  
Quality  (B5)    
Quantity  (B5)    
Relevance  (B5)    
Meaning  (A2)  

  258  
  
Media  (B3,  B8)  
Mediated  action  (A8)    
Mediated  discourse  analysis  (A8,  B8,  C8,  D8)    
Modality  (A4,  B4,  B9)  
Mode  (A7)  
Modes  (of  communication/semiotic)  (A1,  A9,  B9)  
Multimodal  discourse  analysis  (A9,  B9,  C9,  D9)    
Multimodal  interaction  analysis  (A9,  B9,  C9,  D9)    
 
Nomalinalization  (B4)  
Norms  of  interpretation  (B7)    
Narrative  images  (B9)    
 
Object  handling  (C9)  
 
Paraphrase  (C4)    
Participants  (A4,  B4,  B7)  
Performatives  (B5)    
Personal  advertisements  (B3)  
Phonology  (A1)  
Pragmatics  (A5)  
Presuppositions  (C4)  
Processes  (A4,  B4)  
Action  (A4)    
Mental  (A4)      
Relational  (A4)  
Verbal  (A4)  
Promises  (C5)    
 
Quotation  (D4)    
 
Register  (A4,  A7)  
Reporting  verbs  (D4)    
Reference  (B2)  
  Anaphoric  (B2)  
  Antecedent  (B2)    
Cataphoric  (B2)  
  Coreferentiality  (D2)  
Definite  article  (B2)  
  Exophoric  (B2)    
Reference  corpus  (B10)    
Resemiotization  (A9)  
Russian  Formalists  (B1)  
 
Schema  (D2)  
Semantic  field  (A2)  
Semantic  prosody  (B10)    
Sequentiality  (A9,  B5)    

  259  
Setting  (B7)    
Simultaneity  (A9)    
Sites  of  engagement  (B8)    
Situated  language  (A1)  
Social  approach  (B1)    
Social  identity  (A1)  
Social  language  (A4)  
Social  practices  (A8,  B4,  B8)    
SPEAKING  (A7,  B7)  
Speech  acts  (B5)  
Speech  events  (B7)  
Speech  situations  (B7)    
Speech  vs.  writing  (A5)    
Substitution  (B2)  
Systemic  functional  grammar  (A9)    
 
Tautology  (C1)  
Tenor  (A7)    
Text  analysis  (D1)    
Texture  (A2)  
  Loose  (B2)  
  Tight  (B2)    
Threats  (C5)    
Type  token  ratio  (B10)    
 
Varieties  of  English  (A10)  
 
Warnings  (C5)  
Weblogs  (see  Blogs)    
‘Whos  doing  whats’  (A4)  
Word  frequency  lists  (B10)    
 

  260  
AUTHOR  INDEX  
 
 
Abelson,  R.  P.  (B2)    
Anthony,  L.  (B10)    
Austin,  J.  L.  (B1)  
 
Baker,  P.  (A10)    
Bakhtin,  M.  (A4)    
Bateson,  G.  (C7,  D8)    
Bhatia,  V.K.  (A3)  
Birch,  D.  (D4)    
Bizzell,  P.  (D3)  
Blood,  R.  (C3)  
Burr,  V.  (D10)    
Byram,  M.  (D7)    
 
Chomsky,  N.  (D7)    
Chouliaraki,  L.  (D8)    
Coupland,  J.  (B3)    
 
Danet,  B.  (C6)  
Douglas,  M.  (D7)  
Duranti,  A.  (D7)    
 
Eggins,  S.  (B2)  
 
Ferguson,  C.A.  (D6)  
Fairclough,  N.  (D4,  D8)  
Fillmore,  C.  (D4)    
Firth,  J.R.  (A7,  B10)    
Foucault,  M.  (B1)  
 
Gee,  J.  P.  (B1,  D8)  
Geertz,  C.  (D7)  
Gaga,  L.  (B2,  C2,  C10)  
Goffman,  E.  (A6,  B6,  D6)  
Grice,  P.  (B1)  
Gumperz,  J.  (A6)  
Halliday,  M.  A.  K.    (A9,  B1)  
Hardt-­‐Mautner,  G.  (A10)    
Harris,  Z.  (B1)  
Hasan,  R.  (B2)  
Herring,  S.  (C6)    
Hodge,  R.  (B4)    
Hoey,  M.  (B2)  
Hofstadter,  D.  (D4)    
Hogben,  S.  (B3)  

  261  
Holland,  D.  (D4)    
Holyoak,  K.  J.  (D4)    
Hunston,  S.  (D10)    
Hymes,  D.  (A7,  B7,  D7)  
 
Jakobson,  R.  (B7)    
Jefferson,  G.  (A5)      
Johnson,  M.  (D4)  
Jones,  R.  (B3,  B8)  
 
Kiesler,  S.  (C6)  
Kim,  Y.  Y.  (D7)    
Kress,  G.  (B4)  
Kristiva,  J.  (D4)  
 
Labov,  W.  (D1)  
Ladegaard,  H.  J.  (B6)    
Lakoff,  G.  (D4)    
Landow,  G.  P.  (C6)    
Law,  I.  (D10)    
Lin,  A.M.Y.  (B6)    
Liu,  J.  (D7)    
Malinowski,  B.  (A7)    
Martin,  J.  (A3)  
McEnery,  T.  (D10)    
McLuhan,  M.  (B8)    
Milroy,  L.  (D7)    
Murphey,  T.  (C10)    
 
Nanda,  S.  (B3)    
 
Ortega  y  Gasset,  J.  (D6)  
 
Parker,  I.  (D10)    
Philips,  S.U.  (D7)    
Propp,  V.  (B1)  
 
Quinn,  N.  (D4)    
 
Reddy,  M.  (D4)    
Refaie,  E.  (D10)    
Reisigl,  M.  (D10)    
Rey,  J.  M.  (A10)    
Ruesch,  J.  (C7)  
Rumelhardt,  D.  (B2)  
 
Sacks,  H.  (A5)    
Saville-­‐Troike,  M.  (D7)    
 

  262  
Schank,  R.  C.  (B2)    
Schegloff,  E.  (A5)    
Scollon,  R.  (A6)  
Scollon,  S.W.  (A6)    
Searle,  J.  (A5)    
Sinclair,  J.  (B10)    
 
Tannen,  D.  (A6)  
ter  Wal,  J.  (A10)    
Thagard,  P.  (D4)    
Troike,  R.C.  (D7)    
 
van  Dijk,  T.  (A7,  D10)    
von  Humboldt,  W.  (D7)    
Vygotsky,  L.  (B8)    
 
Wallat,  C.  (D6)    
Walther,  J.  (C6)    
Wertsch,  J.  V.  (D8)    
Widdowson,  H.G.  (B1)    
Wittgenstein,  L.  (D6)    
Wodak,  R.  (D10)    
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 

         
 
 

 
 

 
 

 
 
 

  263  
  

 
 

 
 

 
 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 

 
 
 
 
 

  264  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   

  265  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
 
   

 
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

  266  
  

  267