Context and Contexts: Parts Meet Whole? (Pragmatics & Beyond)

Context and Contexts

Pragmatics & Beyond New Series (P&BNS) Pragmatics & Beyond New Series is a continuation of Pragmatics & Beyond and its Companion Series. The New Series offers a selection of high quality work covering the full richness of Pragmatics as an interdisciplinary field, within language sciences. For an overview of all books published in this series, please see http://benjamins.com/catalog/pbns

Editor

Associate Editor

Anita Fetzer

Andreas H. Jucker

University of Würzburg

University of Zurich

Founding Editors Jacob L. Mey

Herman Parret

University of Southern Denmark

Belgian National Science Foundation, Universities of Louvain and Antwerp

Jef Verschueren Belgian National Science Foundation, University of Antwerp

Editorial Board Robyn Carston

Sachiko Ide

Deborah Schiffrin

Thorstein Fretheim

Kuniyoshi Kataoka

University of Trondheim

Aichi University

Paul Osamu Takahara

John C. Heritage

Miriam A. Locher

University College London

Japan Women’s University

University of California at Los Angeles

Universität Basel

Susan C. Herring

Indiana University

Masako K. Hiraga

St. Paul’s (Rikkyo) University

Georgetown University Kobe City University of Foreign Studies

Sandra A. Thompson

Sophia S.A. Marmaridou University of Athens

University of California at Santa Barbara

Srikant Sarangi

Teun A. van Dijk

Cardiff University

Marina Sbisà

University of Trieste

Universitat Pompeu Fabra, Barcelona

Yunxia Zhu

The University of Queensland

Volume 209 Context and Contexts. Parts meet whole? Edited by Anita Fetzer and Etsuko Oishi

Context and Contexts Parts meet whole? Edited by

Anita Fetzer University of Würzburg

Etsuko Oishi Fuji Women’s University

John Benjamins Publishing Company Amsterdamâ•›/â•›Philadelphia

8

TM

The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of American National Standard for Information Sciences – Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ansi z39.48-1984.

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Context and contexts : parts meet whole? / edited by Anita Fetzer, Etsuko Oishi.        p. cm. (Pragmatics & Beyond New Series, issn 0922-842X ; v. 209)   Based on papers from the IPrA Conference, which was held in Melbourne in 2009. Includes bibliographical references and index. 1.  Context (Linguistics) 2.  Discourse analysis. 3.  Social interaction.  I. Fetzer, Anita, 1958II. Oishi, Etsuko. P325.5.C65.C63â•…â•… 2011 401’.41--dc22 isbn 978 90 272 5613 3 (Hb ; alk. paper) isbn 978 90 272 8663 5 (Eb)

2011012098

© 2011 – John Benjamins B.V. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, by print, photoprint, microfilm, or any other means, without written permission from the publisher. John Benjamins Publishing Co. · P.O. Box 36224 · 1020 me Amsterdam · The Netherlands John Benjamins North America · P.O. Box 27519 · Philadelphia pa 19118-0519 · usa

Table of contents

Acknowledgements Introduction Anita Fetzer and Etsuko Oishi

vii 1

Situated meaning in context Why a mother’s rule is not a law: The role of context in the interpretation of€Greek€laws Amalia Moser and Eleni Panaretou

11

Fighting words: Hybrid discourse and discourse processes Lawrence N. Berlin

41

Context and talk in€confrontational€discourses Luisa Granato and Alejandro Parini

67

Deixis in context This? No, that! Constructing shared contexts in the conversational dyad Konstanze Jungbluth “Here is the difference, here is the passion, here€is the chance to be part of great change”: Strategic context importation in political discourse Anita Fetzer Context, contrast, and the structure of€discourse in Turkish Ümit Deniz Turan and Deniz Zeyrek

93

115 147

Communicative action in context Speech acts in context Jacob L. Mey

171

vi

Context and Contexts: Parts Meet Whole?

How are speech acts situated in context? Etsuko Oishi

181

Context: An adaptive perspective Thanh Nyan

205

Subject index Author index

235 239

Acknowledgements

This edited volume developed from an international panel organized by the editors within the IPrA conference in Melbourne 2009. We are deeply grateful to the participants of the panel and to our discussants Keith Allen, Kerstin Fischer and Kasia Jaszczolt, and the audience for their critical and stimulating comments. Our appreciation also goes to the anonymous reviewers of the manuscript, as well as to Isja Conen.

Introduction Anita Fetzer and Etsuko Oishi 1.

Pragmatics and context

Pragmatics is fundamentally concerned with communicative action and its felicity in context, investigating action with respect to the questions of what action is, what may count as action, what action is composed of, what conditions need to be satisfied for action to be felicitous, and how action is related to context. These research questions and the object of research require action in general and communicative action in particular to be conceived of as relational concepts, relating action and context, relating action and communicative action, relating communicative action and participants, and relating participants with the things they do with words in context. The heterogeneous nature of context and the context-dependence of the concept itself have made it almost impossible for the scientific community to agree upon a commonly shared definition or theoretical perspective, and frequently, only a minute aspect of context is described, modelled or formalized (cf. Akman et al. 2001, Blackburn et al. 2003, Bouquet et al. 1999). Because of its multifaceted nature and inherent complexity, context is no longer considered an analytic prime but rather seen from a parts-whole perspective as an entity containing subentities� (or sub-contexts). Context is generally connected in more and less explicit ways with communication, and analogously to the theoretical construct of pragmatics, communication is seen as both context-dependent and context-creating (Bateson 1972). In ethnomethodological conversation analysis and in interactional sociolinguistics, context is considered both product and process (Duranti and Goodwin 1992, Gumperz 1992). Hence, context is connected intrinsically with contextualization, which is assigned the status of a universal in natural-language communication (Gumperz 1996), enriching inexplicit forms and contents by assigning values to indexical tokens. This is usually done through conversational inference (Grice 1975), which is further differentiated with respect to its domain of reference, viz., global inference anchored to discourse genre or activity type (Levinson 1979,

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Anita Fetzer and Etsuko Oishi

� Prevignano and di Luzio 2003) and local inference as described by Gricean conversational implicature. Context and contextualization are a constitutive part of recontextualization and decontextualization (Linell 1998), and context, contextualization, re- and decontextualization are connected intrinsically with entextualization (Park and Bucholtz 2009). While contextualization, decontextualization and recontextualization focus very much on language and language use, contributing to the pragmatic enrichment of underspecified meaning, entextualization, as it is used in this volume, takes the speaker and her / his communicative intention as a starting point and examines how unbounded context is referred to in a particular communicative setting and how it is assigned the status of a bounded object. In other words, contextualization, recontextualization and decontextualization take communicative action as their starting point and investigate how situated meaning is connected with context and thereby pragmatically enriched, and entextualization takes context as a point of departure and examines how context as an unbounded entity is lexicalized and thereby assigned the status of a bounded entity and thus of an object of talk. Naturally, the processes of contextualization, recontextualization, decontextualization and entextualization are connected dialectically in communication. The theoretical construct of context has been described in different research paradigms, and depending on their goals, various aspects have been highlighted, such as the importation and invocation of context in pragmatics and in socialinteraction�-based paradigms, as a psychological construct in relevance theory and in cognitive grammar, or as a set of antecedent premises which are required for a speech act or discourse act to be felicitous. The dynamics of context is implicit in the relevance-theoretic framework, and it is explicit in cognitive grammar, pragmatics and social interaction. Moreover, context is seen as both given and reconstructed in interactional sociolinguistics. Against this background, context is no longer seen as an analytic prime. Rather, it is dynamic, relational, and a parts-whole configuration. Context is subjective and individual (Penco 1999), and it is social and institutional (Duranti and Goodwin 1992).

2.

Context and contexts

The multilayered outlook on context contains a number of different perspectives. First, context is conceived as a frame whose job it is to frame content by delimiting that content. The former operation assigns content the status of figure, and the latter assigns the context surrounding the figure the status of ground. At the same time, the delimited context of the figure is being framed and delimited by



Introduction

less immediately adjacent contextual frames (or the ground). The nature of the connectedness between those frames is a structured whole which is composed of interconnected frames (Goffman 1986). The gestalt-psychological figure-ground scenario prevails in psychological and psycholinguistic perspectives on context. It has also been adapted to cognitive pragmatics, as is reflected in the relevancetheoretic conception of context as an onion, metaphorically speaking. Sperber and Wilson not only point out the interconnected nature of the layers but also stress the fact that their order of inclusion corresponds to their order of accessibility (Sperber and Wilson 1986). This is of particular importance to the cognitive operations of inferencing, pragmatic enrichment, and to the calculation of implicatures, which are key operations in natural-language communication. Second, context is seen as a dynamic construct which is interactionally organized in and through the process of communication. This view prevails in ethnomethodology and ethnomethodological conversation analysis (Garfinkel 1994, Goodwin and Duranti 1992, Heritage 1984, Schegloff 1992), interactional sociolinguistics (Gumperz 2003) and sociopragmatics (Fetzer 2004, 2010), where context is assigned the dual status of process and product. The dynamic outlook is based on the premises of indexicality of social action and on (joint) construction of a common context. In that frame of reference, meaning is not conceived of as autonomous but rather as relational, considering the embeddedness and interdependence of linguistic expressions. To use Ochs’ words, “(1) language systematically varies across social contexts, and (2) such variation is part of the meaning indexed by linguistic structures. (…) The meanings so indexed are referred to as social meanings, in contrast to purely referential or logical meanings expressed by linguistic structures” (Ochs 1992:â•›337–338). Consequently, a thorough examination of context needs to go beyond the prevailing definition of context as a set of propositions (Stalnaker 1999). To capture the indexicality of social action and the relational nature of social meaning, context needs to be conceived of as a complex dynamic network, which undergoes a permanent process of structuring and re-structuring. In those qualitatively-oriented paradigms, context is intrinsically connected with the concepts of adjacency pair, conditional relevance, and turn-taking on the micro level, with activity type (Levinson 1979) or speech event (Hymes 1974) on the meso level, and with institutional talk on the macro level, whose order is captured through context-independent and context-sensitive constraints and requirements. In institutional interviews, for instance, there is a clear-cut division of labor anchored to the turn-taking system and to the adjacency pair question/ answer: the representative of the institution has the right to ask questions while the client has the obligation to answer those questions (Fetzer 2000). Third, context is seen as given, as is reflected in the presuppositional approach to context which is also referred to as common ground or background

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Anita Fetzer and Etsuko Oishi

information. Here, context is seen as a set of propositions which participants take for granted in interaction. This allows for two different conceptions of context: a static conception in which context is external to the utterance, and an interactive one, in which context is imported into the utterance while at the same time invoking and reconstructing context (Fetzer and Fischer 2007). While the former has been refuted in pragmatics, which is concerned fundamentally with contextdependent� meaning and thus with communicative action and its felicity in context, it still has a number of supporters in information science, as is put succinctly by Levinson (2003:╛33): the idea that utterances might carry along with them their own contexts like a snail carries its home along with it is indeed a peculiar idea if one subscribes to a definition of context that excludes message content, as for example in information theory. Context is then construed as the antecedent set of assumptions against which a message is construed. But it has long been noted in the study of pragmatics that this dichotomy between the message and context cannot be the right picture.

The context-dependence of context is thus reflected in its statuses as (1) given and external to the utterance, (2) re-constructed and negotiated in and through the process of communication, (3) indexical, and (4) never saturated. The connectedness between context and discourse has become apparent throughout the analysis of context above. To shed more light on the connectedness, their shared domains of reference, that is society, culture, cognition, and language, are examined in context, and context as a whole is classified into social context, sociocultural context, cognitive context, and linguistic context (Fetzer 2004). The multilayered outlook on context requires an analytic frame of reference based on methodological compositionality. For this reason, the most appropriate delimitation seems to be a functional one: context is conceived of as a frame of reference whose job it is to frame content by delimiting the content while at the same time being framed and delimited by less immediate adjacent frames. This also holds for discourse whose job it is to frame content by delimiting the content while at the same time being framed and delimited by less immediate discourse. To capture the interactive and dynamic nature of context and communication, methodological compositionality informed by linguistics, psychology, sociology, linguistic anthropology, and cultural studies is required. Only then is it possible to cross and transcend disciplinary boundaries and account for inherently unbounded theoretical constructs, which may become bounded when instantiated.



3.

Introduction

The contributions

The volume falls in three parts, investigating situated meaning, deixis, and communicative action. All of the contributions subscribe to a research frame anchored to compositional methodology, and all of their context-based analyses account for the connectedness between parts and whole. The first part of the volume, Situated meaning in context, comprises four contributions. Why a mother’s rule is not a law: The role of context in the interpretation of Greek laws by Amalia Moser and Eleni Panaretou explores the role of mesoand macro context in the interpretation of text on the basis of Greek laws. They start with an analysis of the grammatical categories of tense, aspect, and modality in the frameworks of descriptive grammar and of the speech act of directive in speech act theory, and adapt the results obtained to two different social and sociocultural meso contexts (or genres): Greek family-life discourse and Greek legal discourse. The study is based on a comparison of native speakers’ judgements corroborating the research hypothesis that it is not the type of speech act which licenses deviant uses of linguistics constructions but rather the genre in which the constructions are used. Fighting words: Hybrid discourse and discourse processes by Lawrence N. Berlin is set in the framework of critical discourse analysis, which is an interdisciplinary paradigm par excellence, informed by pragmatics, cultural theory, and sociology. It demonstrates in a fine-grained analysis how in his weekly program, Aló, Presidente, the Venezuelan President Hugo Chávez not only creates a hybrid discourse but also integrates the processes of entextualization and contextualization in that hybrid. Through the blending of orders of discourse, words can become actions, and militarizing language can lead a nation to the brink of war, and manipulation of language begets manipulation of ideology. Context and talk in confrontational discourse by Luisa Granato and Alejandro Parini is set in Systemic Functional Grammar. In line with that particular framework, the authors differentiate between linguistic context on the one hand, and social and sociocultural contexts on the other, which are evoked by the former. The systemic-function methodology is supplemented by conversation-analyticÂ� principles and techniques, in particular turn-taking, adjacency, and interruption, by Goffman’s conception of participation and footing, and by politeness theory. The study identifies the factors that are responsible for disruptions in the flow of discourse and the different consequences that this may bring about. The second part of the volume, Deixis in context, contains three papers. This? No, that! Constructing shared contexts in the conversational dyad by KonstanzeÂ� Jungbluth employs a radical micro approach to the investigation of deixis in

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Anita Fetzer and Etsuko Oishi

Â� languages. She examines various languages which have three different demonstratives in their linguistic repertoire, such as Spanish, and others which have only two, e.g., Standard English and Polish, presenting a fine-grained analysis of constellations where speaker and hearer are positioned face-to-face and where they are not looking at one another while turned face-to-back or side-by-side. The paper demonstrates that context is a relational concept where the crossing over of spatio-oriented and socio-oriented references takes place. It is in the use of deictic forms where the two are intertwined. ‘Here is the difference, here is the passion, here is the chance to be part of great change’: Strategic context importation in political discourse by Anita Fetzer examines the strategic importation of context through conventional means focussing on the communicative function of the indexical deictic form here and its counterpart there in the dialogic genre of political interview and in the monologic genre of political speech. As indexical deixis, here and there ground reference to origo, and as relational deixis, they sign relation to origo. In the two genres, the distribution and function of here and there differ: the local linguistic context of here and there contains more linguistic means of a determinate nature and thus imports a more determinate kind of context in the speeches than in the interviews. Context, contrast and the structure of discourse in Turkish by Ümit Deniz Turan and Deniz Zeyrek shows how discourse context, i.e. common ground shared by discourse participants, and information packaging interact with the use of the contrastive connective (tam) tersine (on the contrary). They show that the connective evokes a discourse structure which has at least three parts: the material in the prior linguistic context, its refutation, and then rectification in the clause where the connective is hosted. The adverbial is used strategically to bring the cognitive context of the intended audience closer to that of the writer while minimizing any potential discrepancies in their cognitive contexts. The third part of the volume, Communicative action in context, contains three contributions. Speech acts in context by Jacob L. Mey argues with Austin (1962) that speech acts, in themselves, are not ‘real’: they have to be situated in reality; that is, in the context in which they are produced. Not only are speech acts situated in a context; the context itself situates the speech acts, it creates them, as it were. A so-called indirect speech act is what the context makes it to be – not necessarily what the words spoken express by themselves; vice versa, a speech act (broadly: an utterance) may create the context for which it is appropriate. Speech acts are always ‘situated’, that is, they are basically pragmatic acts. How are speech acts situated in context? by Etsuko Oishi purports to develop an Austinian speech act theory, in which the illocutionary act is described as the communicative move to the hearer that the speaker evaluates her present utterance as. In making a performative or non-performative utterance, the speaker



Introduction

specifies or indicates the value of the communicative move in identifying her/ himself as a particular addresser, the present hearer as a particular addressee, and the circumstances as a particular context. On the basis of this understanding, the author examines different elements in terms of which the success or failure of performing an illocutionary act is determined, and which indicate how illocutionary acts are situated in context. Context and adaptive action by Thanh Nyan describes context as a non focal element which is, in some way, necessary to the occurrence of a focal event, drawing mainly from Damasio’s model of decision making and Edelman’s Theory of neuronal Group Selection. Taking this focal event to be adaptive action, the author seeks to further the understanding of the relationship between context and adaptive action. She examines the interaction between context and non-linguistic adaptive action, as part of the process whereby action selection is carried out, and considers to what extent the relationship between context (in various manifestations) and linguistic action can be analyzed by means of the same criteria.

References Akman, Varol, Bouquet, Paolo, Thomason, Richmond and Young, Robert A. (eds.). 2001. Modeling and Using Context. Third International and Interdisciplinary Conference, CONTEXT 2001, Proceedings. Heidelberg: Springer. Bateson, Gregory. 1972. Steps to an Ecology of Mind. New York: Chandler Publishing Company. Blackburn, Patrick, Ghidini, Chiara, Turner, Roy M. and Giunchiglia, Fausto (eds.). 2003. Modeling and Using Context. 4th International and Interdisciplinary Conference, Context 2003, Proceedings. Heidelberg: Springer. Bouquet, Paolo, Brezillon, Patrick, Benerecetti, Massimo, Castellani, Francesca and Serafini, Â�Luciano (eds.). 1999. Modeling and Using Context. Second International and Interdisciplinary Conference on Modeling and Using Context, Context’99, Proceedings. Heidelberg: Springer. Duranti, Alessandro and Goodwin, Charles (eds.). 1992. Rethinking Context. Language as an Interactive Phenomenon. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Fetzer, Anita. 2000. “Negotiating validity claims in political interviews.” Text 20 (4): 1–46. Fetzer, Anita. 2004. Recontextualizing Context: Grammaticality meets Appropriateness. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Fetzer, Anita. 2010. “Contexts in context: micro meets macro.” In Discourses in Interaction, Tanskanen, Sanna-Kaisa et al. (eds), 13–31. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Fetzer, Anita and Fischer, Kerstin. 2007. ”Introduction.“ In Lexical Markers of Common Grounds, Anita Fetzer and Kerstin Fischer (eds), 1–13. London: Elsevier. Garfinkel, Harold. 1994. Studies in Ethnomethodology. Cambridge: Polity Press. Goffman, Erving. 1986. Frame Analysis. Boston: Northeastern University Press. Goodwin, Charles and Duranti, Alessandro. 1992. “Rethinking context: an introduction.” In Rethinking Context. Language as an Interactive Phenomenon, Alessandro Duranti and Charles Goodwin (eds), 1–42. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

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Grice, Herbert Paul. 1975. “Logic and conversation.” In Syntax and Semantics. Vol. III, Peter Cole and Jerry L. Morgan (eds), 41–58. New York: Academic Press. Gumperz, John J. 1992. “Contextualization and understanding.” In Rethinking Context: Language as an Interactive Phenomenon, Alessandro Duranti and Charles Goodwin (eds), 229–252. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Gumperz, John J. 1996. “The linguistic and cultural relativity of inference.” In Rethinking Linguistic Relativity, John J. Gumperz and Stephen C. Levinson (eds), 374–406. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Gumperz, John J. 2003. “Response essay.” In Language and Interaction. Discussions with John J. Gumperz, Susan Eerdmans et al. (eds), 105–126. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Heritage, John. 1984. Garfinkel and Ethnomethodology. Cambridge: Polity Press. Hymes, Dell. 1974. Foundations in Sociolinguistics: An Ethnographic Approach. Philadelphia: University of Philadelphia Press. Levinson, Stephen. 1979. “Activity types and language.” Linguistics 17: 365–399. Levinson, Stephen. 2003. “Contextualizing contextualization cues.” In Language and Interaction. Discussions with John J. Gumperz, Susan Eerdmans et al. (eds), 31–40. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Linell, Per. 1998. Approaching Dialogue. Amsterdam: Benjamins. Ochs, Elenor. 1992. “Indexing gender”. In Rethinking Context. Language as an Interactive Phenomenon, Alessandro Duranti and Charles Goodwin (eds), 335–358. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Penco, Carlo. 1999. “Objective and cognitive context.” In 2nd International and Interdisciplinary Conference on Modeling and Using Context, Context’99, Proceedings, Paolo Bouquet et al. (eds), 270–283. Heidelberg: Springer. Park, Joseph Sung-Yul and Bucholtz, Mary. 2009. “Public transcripts: Entextualization and linguistic representation in institutional contexts.” Text & Talk 5: 485–502. Prevignano, Carlo and di Luzio, Aldo. 2003. “A discussion with John J. Gumperz.” In Language and Interaction. Discussions with John J. Gumperz, Susan Eerdmans et al. (eds), 7–30. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Schegloff, Emanuel A. 1992. “In another context.” In Rethinking Context. Language as an Interactive Phenomenon, Alessandro Duranti and Charles Goodwin (eds), 191–228. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Sperber, Dan and Wilson, Deirdre. 1986. Relevance: Communication and Cognition. Oxford: Blackwell. Stalnaker, Robert. 1999. Context and Content. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Situated meaning in context

Why a mother’s rule is not a law The role of context in the interpretation of€Greek€laws* Amalia Moser and Eleni Panaretou This paper explores the role of meso- and macro-context in the interpretation of text, on the basis of our research on the text of Greek laws.The use of the grammatical categories of tense, aspect and modality in these texts deviates from everyday use (Panaretou 2005, Moser and Panaretou 2009). The study is based on a comparison of native speakers’ judgements (elicited through questionÂ�naires and interviews and subjected to qualitative analysis) on law texts and everyday contexts containing the performance of the same type of speech act as the law: a mother setting a rule for her children and delineating the consequences of breaking this rule. Uses judged unanimously as ungrammatical and unacceptable in the latter context, went unnoticed in law texts. Our conÂ�clusion is that what licenses deviant uses is not the type of speech act, but the genre of law texts; it is argued that, as a form of meso-context, the genre of law texts, by virtue of being highly institutionalized within the cognitive and socio-cultural context in which it is embedded (Fetzer 2004, 2007), creates a cognitive frame so powerful as to impose specific interÂ�pretations even to grammatical forms which would be unacÂ�ceptable in different (con)texts.

1.

Introduction

Laws, even decontextualized fragments of laws, are immediately recognizable as such to native speakers of Greek, who attribute this recognizability to the Â�complicated and formal “legal language”. Nevertheless, the linguistic form does * Thanks are due to the organizers and the participants of the panel “Context and Contexts” at the 11th IPRA conference in Melbourne, in particular Jacob Mey, Virginia Hussin and Luisa Granato for their insightful comments, to the anonymous reviewers for their interesting suggestions, to Eleni Antonopoulou, Spyridoula Bella and Costas Canakis for our fruitful discussions with them and to our lawyer friends and relatives.

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Amalia Moser and Eleni Panaretou

not give rise to any suspicion of ungrammaticality. A systematic comparison with standard usage, howÂ�ever, reveals not only unusual choices, but also numerous deviations from the rules of grammar; these centre around the use of the categories of tense, aspect and modality. The extent of the deviation becomes apparent when the grammatical forms used in laws are transferred to the same type of speech act in a different activity type: a mother setting a rule for her children. At once, the tense and aspect of the corÂ�responding law text make the utterance not merely deviant, but ungramÂ� matical and unacceptable. This paper investigates the hypothesis that, assuming that a law and a mother’s rule constitute essentially the same type of speech act, namely commands, what makes deviant uses acceptable in law texts is the specific genre, as conventionalized by the members of the relevant discourse community within its socio-cultural and inÂ�stitutional context.

2.

Methodology

The hypothesis that it is genre that determines the interÂ�pretation of the grammatical categories under investigation and thus explains the acceptability of deviant uses led us to base our analysis on decontextualization and recontextualization. On the one hand we decontextualized specific provisions of laws and mothers’ rules and on the other hand we “decontextualized” the deviant grammatical constructions found in laws and “recontextualized” them in a variety of contexts, including mothers’ rules. The results of our analysis were tested through a questionnaire distributed to native speakers with the purpose of eliciting their intuitions and judgements on the acceptability of the use of the three grammatical categories in laws and nonlegal texts. The questionnaire was answered by 41 informants, their ages ranging from 20 to 80 years of age: 24 students, 12 university degree-holders and 5 lawyers. It consisted of three parts. In the first part the informants, who had not been alerted to the aim of the questionnaire, had to assess the degree of acceptability of 20 utterances, choosing among three characterizations (correct – incorrect – unsatisfactory) and to make whatever corrections or improvements they deemed necessary. In the second part they had to paraphrase the modal verbs in 10 utterances and . The terms ‘decontextualization’ and ‘recontextualization’ are used here in a broader sense, to include the extraction and use in a different context of grammatical constructions rather than texts.



The role of context in the interpretation of Greek laws

in the third part to fill in the gaps of 12 utterances using the appropriate form of a verb in brackets. Fourteen informants (34.1%) were interviewed after filling in the questionnaire; this interview revealed not only the rationale of their responses but also the fact that they immediately and infallibly recognized the law excerpts through what they called the ‘peculiarity’ of their linguistic expression. All results were subjected to qualitative analysis, taking into consideration, in the case of the first part, only corrections pertaining to tense, aspect and modality. The first and second parts were also subjected to statistical analysis with the aim of checking the test’s validity. We did not deem it necessary to do the same with the third part, given that all informants filled in the gaps according to the standard rules of language, without deviations. The results of the statistical analysis are presented in Section 5.4.

3.

Law, speech acts, context and genre

3.1

Law

Law is a set of rules created with the purpose of regulating human relations within a given society; more specifically, laws, which in western and other societies are established by the State, enforce obligations and assign rights. Through the law the state communicates its will to the citizens in the form of obligatory and non-negotiable rules. It has a privileged status assigned to it by two factors: the inequality of social power between addresser and adÂ�dressee and the power of the addresser to enforce its will. As a consequence, law is in itself a kind of power: it has absolute symbolic power supplemented by the power of the judiciary system and the coercive power of police (van Dijk 1997:â•›16–28). From the legal point of view (Morgan and Dwyer 19482, Troller 1969, Â�Georgiadis 1997, Engisch 2005) laws have the following properties: (a) they are commands, (b) they cover every aspect of social life and every individual case that falls under a specific law, a characteristic named by Bhatia (1994) “allinclusivenessÂ�”, (c) they affect every class of citizens, (d) they are impersonal in a double sense: they are issued by the impersonal state and they address the impersonal society, (e) they are non-negotiable in the sense that every citizen must comply with the law without the possibility to negotiate its application, e.g. to ask for an ad hoc exception from the law, and (f) they normally apply from the moment they are issued and remain valid forever unless retracted by another law.

. Even laws that assign rights are considered commands (see Engisch 2005).

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Rules of law are divided into two parts: the first contains the description of the set of circumstances under which the rule is applicable (henceforth: Facts), and the second sets out the legal consequences which arise when these presup� positions are met (henceforth: Consequences). The law therefore has the logical form of a hypothesis, i.e. of a conditional, a fact acknowledged by lawyers (Georgiadis 1997) and linguists (Crystal and Davy 1969, Bhatia 2004) alike. This logical form is usually expressed through the syntactic structure of conditionals, the Facts proto�typically expressed by the protasis and the Consequences by the apodosis. From the pragmatic point of view, the macro-speech act performed by law is a directive and more specifically a command (Kurzon 1986, Panaretou 2009); the view of speech acts adopted in this paper is outlined briefly in the following section.

3.2 Speech acts Our claim that laws and mothers’ rules are essentially the same type of speech act is based on Searle’s classification of illocutionary acts. In both cases, his three criteria are met in the same way: – The point of purpose; they both set a rule, often in a direct manner – The expressed psychological states; in both acts the addresser exerts authority on the addressee and poses a demand – The direction of fit; they both have a world-to-word direction in Searle’s (1976:â•›3–4) sense, in that their purpose is to adjust the real world to an ideal one, under threat of sanctions. The similarities extend to most speech act classifications in the literature, notably Croft’s (1994) taxonomy based on sentence types. One of the severest lines of criticism against the Searlean tradition is that it focuses on the linguistic aspect of utterances, leaving aside social variables such as the speaker’s authority (Mey 1993:â•›157, Canakis 2007:â•›123–135, Sbisà 2009:â•›240). Nevertheless, even if we take into account such social variables, we still find that the similarities between . This legal distinction differs considerably from the one adopted by discourse anaÂ�lysts like Bhatia (1994), who distinguish two moves in the discourse structure of rules of law, namely provisionary clause and qualifications. The proÂ�visionary clause comprises both Facts and Consequences, while qualifications are inserted into both. . On the direction of fit in laws see Panaretou (2009:â•›63–64).



The role of context in the interpretation of Greek laws

the two commands overshadow their differences. The speaker’s authority, for instance, though clearly unequal in absolute terms, is analogous in relative terms: in a child’s world within most societies the authority of parents is immense and, from the child’s point of view, of much greater weight than that of the state. The power relationship between a mother and a child mirrors on a much smaller scale that of state and citizens. A mother, like the state, has the power of imposing rules as well as sanctions for disobedience. The analysis that follows takes into consideration precisely this type of socio-cultural parameter in connection with the notions of context and genre.

3.3 Context The view of context adopted in this paper takes into account different facets of this complicated notion as developed within various approaches in the literature. A basic question about context concerns the text’s autonomy or dependence on it. If the text is conceived as an autonomous unit, it follows that its structure and grammatical features are not influenced by contextual factors. Descriptions of textual properties common to all texts, such as cohesion (Halliday and Hasan 1976) and coherence (de Beaugrande and Dressler 1981, Mann and Thompson 1988) for instance, might lead to the conclusion that the text can be studied independently of its context. A closer investigation of texts on the other hand reveals a large array of phenomena such as deixis, honorifics, differences in register and word order and the organization of the text, which cannot be explained without reference to context, thus making text context-dependent. We adopt the latter view because, as we intend to show in this paper, even the use of grammatical categories is affected by context. Our view is concomitant with the cognitive perspective, according to which context forms the ground against which the text is profiled as figure (see e.g. Goodwin and Duranti 1992:â•›9). In the broadest possible sense the context of a text is everything that surrounds it, from the sociocultural environment to the particulars of each activity. This rather vague notion requires some delimitation and subcategorization, if it is to be a useful theoretical concept and tool of analysis. Several categorizations are available in the literature. The immediate circumstances of the verbal activity (the time and place of the interaction, the social roles of the participants, the purpose of the text and the genre to which it belongs) constitute the context of situation (see e.g. Hymes 1974, Ochs 1979 and Halliday 1985).

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The social context (Goffman 1979) comprises the setting and the interactional and social roles of the participants of a specific speech event as well as their communicative intentions and purposes; it includes a wide range of social settings and institutions along with the power relations associated with social settings and social classes. All these factors influence the linguistic expression of the text. A more refined distinction is drawn between social and sociocultural context. Culture determines to a high degree the norms and beliefs of a society and the attitudes of speakers or groups of speakers towards social phenomena such as ethnicity, racism, gender and so on (Verschueren 1999:â•›91–4). The interÂ�relationship of social and sociocultural context is conceived as the distinction between an unmarked and a marked type of context. Social context is an unmarked context subcategorized into different types of marked sociocultural contexts, which lead to particular interÂ�pretations of textual features (Fetzer 2007:â•›14). World-knowledge and social knowledge are stored in people’s minds as mental representations which form various kinds of cognitive schemata, such as frames, scripts, scenarios etc. These mental representations form part of the common background knowledge of the participants and constitute the cognitive context that frames the text (Fetzer 2007:â•›9–12) and delimits its content and its interpretation(s) (Goffman 1986). Finally, language itself, as used within a text, forms the linguistic context or co-text, in view of which other parts of the same text are interpreted. A more general distinction pertaining to the notion of context is the micromacro distinction, first introduced by van Dijk for the structure of discourse. The immediate circumstances of the verbal activity constitute the micro or local context; the broader social and cultural surroundings constitute the macro or global context. Local discourse and context are interpreted in the light of global contexts (van Dijk 1997:â•›15). Between the two extremes lies the intermediate level of mesocontext which links the specific (texts, participants and actions) to the general. In this sense, genre as understood here, following Fetzer (2007), is a type of mesocontext (see 3.4 below). An important issue relative to the text-context relationship concerns the static or dynamic character of context. If contexts are ready-made, formated and a priori given in a specific discourse event, then the text-context relationship must be uniÂ�dimensional. The context is “brought along” in the discourse event and as a consequence it is only the context which influences the text and its linguistic expression and not vice versa. If, on the other hand, context is conceived as a dynamic notion, as something not a priori given but flexible and consequently



The role of context in the interpretation of Greek laws

created, negotiated or even canceled in the course of the interaction, then the context is “brought about”. It emerges during the discourse event and “language is not determined by the context, it is in itself responsible for the availability of the very context which is necessary in order to interpret the structures encoded in it” (Auer 1992:â•›22). As Auer (op. cit:â•›27) points out, context is usually “brought along” in inÂ�stitutionalized settings. In this paper we claim that, due to the institutional character of law, the genre “brings along” its context. Context emerges through conÂ�textualization (Gumperz 1982, 1992, Bauman and Briggs 1990, Auer 2009), i.e. through the activities of the participants. According to Gumperz (1982:â•›131–133, 1992) the context is made recognizable through contextualization cues, i.e. “constellations of surface features of message form […] by which speakers signal and listeners interpret what the activity is, how semantic content is to be understood and how each sentence relates to what precedes or follows”. One of their characteristics is that “they are used and perceived but rarely consciously noted and almost never talked about directly” (Gumperz 1982:â•›131). Bauman and Briggs (1990) brought into the field of research on the text-context relationship a new line of investigation, that of entextualization in connection to deconÂ�textualization and recontextualization. What comes into focus through these processes is not discourse but the text itself. Entextualization is “the process of rendering discourse extractable, of making a stretch of linguistic production into a unit –a text– that can be lifted out of its interactional settings” (op. cit.:â•›73). This allows the text unit in question to be decontextualized, i.e. detached from its situational context, and reconÂ�textualized in another. While law displays a high degree of entextualization, this aspect is not relevant to the topic of this paper. The two other strategies were used in the analysis of the data and the questionnaire as described in Section 2 above.

3.4 Genre The various definitions of genre in the literature share the premise that texts belonging to the same genre serve the comÂ�municative purposes of a discourse community. In this paper we adopt the definition of discourse community given by Swales (1990:â•›23–27), according to which it consists of speakers who use a specific register associated with their professional occupation and are able to produce and understand texts in this register, as a result of being trained in this task. The communicative purposes impose the discourse structure of the genre and lead to specific grammatical and lexical choices, which occur systematically in different texts of the same genre. Thus, genre is highly conventionalized and

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recognizable to the members of the discourse community. Law is one of the most recognizable genres due to its invariant text structure and characteristic linguistic expression. Varying opinions have been recorded in the literature as to the relation between genre and context. We adopt Fetzer’s (2007:â•›21) view, considering genre as a bridging notion connecting the macro- with the micro-context. Thus, we see the genre of law as a meso-context connecting the micro-context of individual laws to the socio-cultural macro-context. This leads us to the following conception of the relation between the three levels: the sociocultural and institutional macro-context associated with the legal and judiciary system gives birth to the very notion of law and assigns its properties and purposes. Thus, a specific cognitive frame LAW, embedded in the more general world-frame SOCIAL LIFE, is common to all members of society and includes knowledge about the nature of law. Both the institutional context and the cognitive frame are “brought along” in Auer’s sense by default in both the production and the interpretation of individual laws at the micro-level.

4.

Tense, aspect, modality and conditionals in Greek

4.1

Tense

Tense, the “grammaticalised expression of location in time” (Comrie 1985:â•›9) is the deictic category which places events on a time axis relative to the speaker’s present (the time of utterance). The position adopted here is that Greek displays a tripartite division of time into past, present and future, developing a system of three absolute and three absolute-relative tenses denoting anteriority, as displayed in Table 1.

. For the structure of English laws see Bhatia (1994, 2004) and Hoey (2001), for the language of English laws Maley (1994) and Tiersma (1999) and for the structure and language of Greek laws Panaretou (2009). . A different view is that the Greek system is based on the binary opposition [±PAST], the future being a modal category (for a discussion see Bella 2005) and that the perfect is either a third aspect or a tense combining the past and the present; the view that the present perfect denotes anteriority is particularly controversial (but see Moser 2003). None of this, however, is directly relevant to the discussion at hand.



The role of context in the interpretation of Greek laws

AbsoluteAbsolute tense relative tense (anterior)

Table 1.╇ Absolute and absolute-relative tense in Greek Time

Tense

present7 past

Present Perfective Past (Aorist) Imperfective Past Perfective Future Imperfective Future Present Perfect Past Perfect Future Perfect

future present past future

tréxo étreksa étrexa tha trékso tha trexo éxo tréksi íxa tréksi tha éxo tréksi

It should be noted that, while tenses are prototypically associated with the time spans on the axis of time to which their labels refer, there is, as in many languages, considerable freedom in their use, as they can acquire different temporal meanings depending on the context, along with the variety of modal nuances that they can convey. On the other hand, certain structures, such as conditionals, impose certain constraints on their use (see 4.4).

4.2 Aspect Aspect, the grammatical category which expresses “different ways of viewing the internal temporal consistency of a situation” (Comrie 1976:â•›3), is based on the opposition [±IMPERFECTIVE]; the perfective views the situation as a whole, ignoring its internal temporal constituency, in other words adopting the point of view of someone watching the event from the outside, while the imperfective pays attention to this constituency, adopting the point of view of someone situated within the event and watching it unfold. Greek has one of the most highly grammaticalized aspectual systems cross-linguistically: all forms of the verb are marked for aspect, including non-indicative forms (which are not marked for tense). The aspectual opposition between perfective and imperfective is expressed by the aorist and the present stem respectively and therefore functions for all but a negligible number of verbs. Table 1 shows the inflectional expression of aspect as well as of tense in the indicative of the absolute tenses, with the Â�Perfect system seen as . Following a common convention, cross-linguistic tense categories appear in lower case, while specific tenses of the Greek language appear with a capitalized initial. . The opposition [± PROGRESSIVE], a subdivision of the imperfective, has no morphological expression in Greek.

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Â�perfective. Being highly grammaticalized, aspect in Greek is also highly subjective, allowing the speaker to adopt the point of view of his/her choice, so that the same event can be referred to through either aspect: (1) óli méra xtes éγrafa/éγrapsa éna gráma ‘All day yesterday I wrote(perf/imp) a letter’

The liberty that this system gives to speakers is restricted in certain contexts, including conditionals (see 4.4). A second and equally important function of the imperfective is the expression of habitÂ�uality, i.e. the regular repetition of an event: (2) káthe kalokéri piγéname diakopés sta nisiá ‘Every summer we went(imp.) (= used to go) to the islands for the holidays’

As opposed to the main aspectual opposition, the habitual is linked to the objective temporal constituency of a situation; consequently, habitual events demand the imper�fective, with a few exceptions in certain syntactic environments.

4.3 Modality Modality, as the expression of the personal stance of the speaker with respect to the situation (Palmer 1986), can be epistemic, i.e. related to the degree of certainty of the speaker, or deontic, i.e. related to the expectations of the speaker (wishes, needs, obligations etc.). Modality is expressed in Greek10 through a. the moods, on whose number there is considerable controversy. Three (indicative, subjunctive, imperative) are universally accepted, being morphoÂ�logically distinct; several forms of the Subjunctive or the Past Indicative Â�preceded by various markers/particles are frequently considered moods, notably those with the future/modal marker tha, often characterised as ‘conÂ�ditionals’. The imperative, formed only in the second person, is protoÂ�typically used in commands, but also in requests, exhortations and conÂ�cessions. The mainly syntactic opposition of the Indicative and the Subjunctive has to do with the expression of factuality by the former and non-factuality by the latter.

. For a more detailed analysis of aspect cross-linguistically see Dahl (1985) and Comrie (1976) and for the Greek aspectual system, with a discussion of the nature of habituality, Moser (2008). 10. For a detailed analysis of modality in Greek see Iakovou (1999).



The role of context in the interpretation of Greek laws

b. two modal verbs, prépi and borí, which, in the manner of modal verbs crosslinguistically, double as deontic and epistemic, depending on the context: (3) o Níkos (tha) prépi na γimnázete aliós tha paxíni / γiati íne se polí kalí katástasi ‘Nikos must exercise/be exercising, or he will get fat(must=deontic) / because he is very fit(must=epistemic)’.

The optional future/modal marker tha functions as a mitigator: when the modal verb is used epistemically it reduces the likelihood of the hypothesized situation; when the verb is used deontically, it reduces the imposition and therefore also functions as a politeness element.

4.4 Conditionals in Greek Conditionals in Greek are subject to syntactic restrictions which include the use of tenses, aspects and moods. Several categorizations are available in the literature.11 Most of them are based on the opposition [±FACTUALITY]; we opt here for one based on [±POSSIBILITY] (analysed in greater detail in Moser and PanaretouÂ� 2009) on the grounds that at least prototypical conditionals are by definition nonfactual. Possible hypotheses are further subcategorized on the basis of their degree of probability, i.e. likelihood of realization. conditionals possible

probable

impossible an íxe tréksi, tha íxe prolávi[past perfect] an étrexe, tha prolávene([imperfective past] ‘if she had run, she would have been in time’ improbable

an tréksi[perfective subjunctive], tha prolávi[future]

an étrexe, tha prolávene([imperfective past]

‘if she runs, she will be in time’

‘if she ran, she would be in time’

Figure 1.╇ Conditionals in Greek

11. For a comprehensive critical presentation of previous analyses see Dancygier (1998). The ca�te�gorization adopted here has used ideas from this work as well as Athanassiadou and Dirven (1997) and grammars of Greek: Holton et al. (1997) and Clairis and Babiniotis (2005), although it differs from each of them on several points.

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There are two further, less prototypical types of conditionals, both expressing possible hypotheses: a. hypotheses about the past or the present, concerning the consequences of conditions which may or may not exist/ have existed. They are expressed through the Perfective Past or the Present respectively:

an étrekse, tha prólave[perfective past] an tréxei [present] , tha prolávi[future] if she ran, she will have been in time if she is running, she will be in time

b. pseudo-conditionals, i.e. timeless or ‘eternal’ truths, usually exÂ�pressed with the Present throughout and more rarely with the Future in the apodosis; in fact, the conditions are usually expressed with a temporal when-clause:

an/otan tréxeis, prolavénis[present] if you run, you are in time

The point of interest with respect to the matters at hand is that past tenses are restricted to hypotheses about the past, with the exception of the Imperfective Past, which, in addition to impossible conditionals, is used in hypotheses about unlikely future events.

5.

Modality, aspect and tense in Greek laws

The analysis of the concept of law in 3.1 and of the three grammatical categories in 4 leads to the logical conclusion that law is by nature linked to specific subcategories of modality, aspect and tense. These associations create a set of expectations concerning the expression and interpretation of modality, aspect and tense in law texts. Law is obviously associated with modality, in its nature both as a command and as a conditional; commands are prototypical instances of deontic modality, and more precisely of obligatoriness, while conditionals embody epistemic modality. What makes laws particularly interesting in this respect, however, is that deontic modality prevails, to the near exclusion of epistemic modality. Because laws are issued by the state, they do not express the personal opinions, much less the personal feelings of the legislator. Law is therefore related to epistemic modality only insofar as it hypothesizes possible circum�stances, without, however, paying any attention to the likelihood of their occurrence, since it has to foresee all possible (even rare or exceptional) conditions. Consequently, epistemic modality only concerns the Facts and not the Consequences of the law. Its obligatory character, on the contrary, provides it with a particularly strong deontic component,



The role of context in the interpretation of Greek laws

since obligatoriness is the extreme version of deontic modality, reinforced in the case of law by its non-negotiability. The prevalence of deontic modality leads to the expectation of the presence of both modal verbs and all moods, given their inherent ambiguity, with a strong presence in the Consequences of the most deontic of moods, the imperative. The inherent future orientation of deontic modality would preclude the appearance of past tenses. The attributes of obligatoriness and all-inclusiveness of law associate it with the habitual aspect, since the law applies to each and every occurrence of the type of situation it describes. Law is associated with time in two different ways: on the one hand it is futureoriented in that it is normally valid from the moment of its enactment onwards; from a different point of view it can also be seen as atemporal, in the sense that it is valid ad infinitum, unless revoked by another law. This suggests an association with the Future tenses as well as with the Present, both in its future and its ‘eternal truth’ functions, to the exclusion of all Past tenses. As a conditional, law falls clearly under the category of possible hypotheses, because by definition it does not refer to impossible, i.e. non-realizable situations, but exclusively to situations which could arise in the future, however unlikely. Its indifÂ�ference to the degree of likelihood disassociates it from the category of unlikely conditionals, while its potentially eternal validity creates a link with Â�pseudo-conditionals. In this respect again, past tenses are expected to be excluded from law. The absence of past tenses is therefore the strongest expectation stemming from the properties of law and the grammatical rules of Greek. In the following sections all expectations are checked against actual usage in laws.

5.1

Modality

The mood par excellence associated with commands is the imperative; it would therefore be expected to appear frequently in the Consequences. This expectation is not fulfilled: the imperative is completely absent from laws. Since conditionals do allow the imperative in the apodosis, we attribute its absence to the impersonality of Law. As a consequence of this attribute, the text of law is conducted in the third person; the imperative is morphologically limited to the second person, and is therefore excluded. This is not a mere technicality; it reflects the lack of interaction between the addresser and the addressee, i.e. the state and the citizens. This explanation is reinforced by the fact that the subjunctive, which forms all three persons, and often has the function of an imperative in standard usage, is also

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exÂ�cluded from the Consequences, though not from the apodoses of normal conditionals. What is usually found is the Present and Future indicative. The latter is frequently employed in an imperative function in standard usage, clearly by virtue of its factuality, which lends the command a greater degree of obligatoriness, presenting as it does the action as a future fact.12 Neither the Future nor of course the Present inÂ�dicative, whenever used in an apodosis in standard usage, are necesÂ� sarily commands; it is the genre of law which enforces this interÂ�pretation, as in the following: (4) An o δiaθétis […] aγnoí tin elinikí γlósa […] proslamvánetepresent δierminéas. O δierminéas prépi na orkistí óti θa δierminéfsi pistá ti θélisi tu δiaθéti ‘If the testator ignores the Greek language […] an interpreter is hired.  The interpreter must take an oath that he/she will interpret faithfully the will of the testator’

The two modal verbs prepi and bori, as expected by the obligatory nature of the law, are interpreted in their deontic sense. The following passage, included in the questionnaire (QII.8)13, is a good example of the limitations on the interpretation of modal verbs in law: (5) Éna atíxima epikínδinon ilikón borí na íne epísis ke aeroporikó atíxima. Stin períptosi aftí θa prépi na akoluθiθí i siníthis diadikasía ‘A dangerous substances accident may also be an air accident. In this case the usual procedure must be followed’

The modal prépi in the Consequence is, as expected, interpreted as deontic by 100% of the informants, with only one out of forty one giving the option of an epistemic reading in addition to his original deontic reading. The modal borí in the first sentence is clearly epistemic and was paraphrased as such also by 100% of the informants; however, this particular provision does not have the standard form of a conditional. The first sentence constitutes merely the description of a possible world, without forming part of a conditional. The nature of this sentence entails the epistemic reading. The entire conditional is indirectly expressed by the second sentence, with the protasis conveyed by the expression in this case, which corresponds to the sentence ‘if the dangerous substances accident is an air accident’.

12. The factuality of the Future is, of course, entirely relative, given that there are no facts in the future, since it has not yet taken place, but mere conjectures, with varying degrees of plausibility. 13. The abbreviations QI and QII refer to Part I and Part II of the questionnaire and are followed by the number of the specific item (see Appendix).



The role of context in the interpretation of Greek laws

The most interesting feature of this text, however, is the presence of the mitigator tha (tha prepi). The obligatoriness of law leaves, as has been pointed out, no room for mitigation. Therefore, no mitigation markers would be expected. Interestingly, tha, here as well as in other laws where it appears, does not have any effect whatsoever on the interpretation of the modal, which is still understood as conveying the meaning of absolute obligation. Characteristically, not one of the informants interpreted tha in laws as a mitigator; those interviewed merely remarked that it is odd in a law text and, when asked why, said that it is normally used to express hedging or politeness, which is out of place in the law. The single informant who offered an alternative epistemic reading explained that it was precisely the presence of tha that led him to add the epistemic paraphrase as an afterthought.

5.2 Aspect The aspectual category most obviously associated with the law is the habitual; the imperfective, therefore, should be the most frequent aspect. The only imperfective form that would not be expected to appear is the Imperfective Past, since in conditionals it either refers to the past (i.e. expresses a non-realizable hypothesis) or minimizes likelihood in the future (4.4), both properties alien to law. The absence of the Imperfective Past is the only expectation to have been fulfilled in the data. Non-past forms of the imperfective are much rarer than expected. The perfective in contexts where the imperÂ�fective would be compulsory in standard usage yields a habitual meaning, even when there are no contextual markers of habituality. The two aspects seem to alternate freely and sometimes they even co-exist. The following example (QI.2) is one of the two that contain a subjunctive: (6) An o ofilétis apoxorísi[perfective subjunctive] […] éna prágma me skopó tin katavolí, I enoxí singentrónete s’aftó […]. An o ofilétis apostéli[imperfective subjunctive] to prágma […] i singéntrosi epérxete […] ‘If the debtor detaches one object for payment, the obligation is concentrated on this […] If the debtor sends the object […] the concentration occurs […]’

The examples with the subjunctive (which expresses only aspect and not tense) are the only ones where a considerable percentage of our informants seem to notice the aspectual irregularity. 43.9% declared QI.2 either ‘wrong’ (11 infs.) or ‘unsatisfactory’ (7 infs.) and 34% did the same with QI.20. Interestingly, however, they corrected it by changing the imperfective into a perfective rather than viceversa, as they would in ordinary language. This suggests that what struck them as

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odd was the coexistence of the two aspects, which they eliminated by adapting the second verb form to the first. 80.5% objected to the perfective when recontextualized in QI.11 (28 ‘wrong’ and 5 ‘unsatisfactory’ answers): (7) Dioni, an den teliósis[perfective subjunctive] to fagitó su den tha sikónese[imperfective future(habitual)] apo tin karékla su. ‘Dione, if you haven’t finished (lit.: didn’t finish) your dinner you will not leave your chair’.

5.3 Tense Law being by its nature at once future-oriented and atemporal, the tenses that would be expected to appear are the Futures and the Present, to the exclusion of Past tenses. The relevance of the Future is obvious; the appropriateness of the Present stems from two of its qualities: (a) from the fact that cross-linguistically as well as in Greek it is the tense used par excellence for atemporal statements, such as proverbs, and (b) from its flexibility, also not exclusive to Greek, which allows it to be used for past, present and future, provided there are sufficient temporal indications in the context to prevent ambiguity. Future and Present are indeed frequent in laws (the latter in particular) but, unexpectedly, past tenses, with the exception of the Imperfective Past, also abound: the Perfective Past (Aorist), the Past Perfect and the Present Perfect are plentiful in laws. If the past tenses are unexpected because of the nature of law, they are even more inapÂ�propriate in the micro-context of conditionals: as pointed out in 4.4, the past tenses in conditionals signal not simply non-realizable conditions, but hypotheses about the past. The future orientation of law excludes the presence of this type of hypothesis. Nevertheless, examples such as the following (QI.9) abound: (8) An kséfiγe[perfective past] kinitó prágma apo tin eksusía tu noméa ke periílthe[perfective past] se kséno akínito, o noméas tu akinítu éxi ipoxréosi na epitrépsi tin anazítisi ke tin análipsi ‘If an object [has] escaped the user’s authority and [has] moved into someone else’s property, the user of the property is obliged to allow search and repossession thereof ’

The only possible interpretation of this as of any other law is that it concerns any occurrence of the Facts in the future; indeed, none of the informants had any difficulty or any doubt about its temporal placement. Nevertheless, only three informants characterized it as mistaken and four as unsatisfactory (17% of the



The role of context in the interpretation of Greek laws

total number); all seven corrected it by replacing the Perfective Past (Aorist) with a Perfective Subjunctive. Crucially, 100% considered the Perfective Past ungrammatical and corrected it with a Perfective Subjunctive in the recontextualized examples, such as QI.10 (the same is true about QI.18): (9) Ákuse, Leoníδa, ipárxun orisméni kanónes: to proí δen ksekinás γia to sxolío an δen ípies[perfective past] ólo to γála su ke an δen éstroses [perfective past] to kreváti su. ‘Listen, Leonidas, there are certain rules: in the morning you don’t start off for school unless you’ve drunk all your milk and made your bed’.

The Past Perfect is even more incompatible with the type of conditional expressed in laws, since it is reserved in standard usage for hypotheses considering situations that did not occur in the past and are consequently completely unrealizable. Nevertheless, it frequently appears in the text of laws, as in (10): (10) I prosvolí tis patrótitas apoklíete epísis metá to thánato tu téknu, ektós an íxe ídi askithí[past perfect] i sxetikí agogí ‘Challenge of paternity is not allowed after the death of the child, unless the relevant suit had already been filed’

The questionnaire included two excerpts of laws (QI.6 and QI.17) and two recontextualized uses of the Past Perfect (QI.5 and QI.8), one of which was the following rule set by a mother: (11) Ari, pézis[present] poδósfero ta apoγévmata móno an íxes teliósi[past perfect] ta maθímatá su ‘Ari, you may play (lit: you play) football in the afternoon only if you had finished your homework’

The results were impressive. Only 6 informants (14.6%) commented on the use of the Past Perfect in one of the law texts (QI.17), characterizing it as ‘wrong’ (3€infs.) or ‘unÂ�satisfactory’ (3 infs.) and changing it into a subjunctive. On the contrary, 100% of our informants unhesitatingly marked the use of the Past Perfect as ‘wrong’, replacing it with a subjunctive, when reconÂ�textualized into a mother’s rule in QI.5.

5.4 Statistical data The answers to the questionnaire were subjected to statistical analysis using PASW statistics (SPSS).

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Mean = –0.34 Std. Dev. = 3.253 N = 41

Frequency

6

4

2

0 –10

–5

0

10

5

Standard

Figure 2.╇ Tense-aspect in standard language texts

Mean = –9.27 Std. Dev. = 3.194 N = 41

20

15

Frequency

28

10

5

0

–12

–10

–8

–6

–4 Law

Figure 3.╇ Tense-aspect in law texts

–2

0

2



The role of context in the interpretation of Greek laws

The results of the statistical analysis with respect to tense and aspect show that the measures of central tendency in standard language text tend towards 0 (see Figure 2), supporting the prediction that informants would notice deviations in standard language test. On the other hand in law texts they tend to −12 (Figure 3), supporting the prediction that informants would not notice deviations.14 We also checked our hypothesis for statistical significance, using One-sample t-test. a. H0: mean of Expected reply-Standard reply (standard language Texts) is 0 versus H1: mean of Expected reply-Standard reply (standard language Texts) is not 0 and b. H0: mean of Expected reply-Standard reply (law Texts) is 0 versus H1: mean of Expected reply-Standard reply (law Texts) is not 0. Table 2.╇ One sample t-test for tense and aspect Test Value = 0 t

Expected reply-Standard reply (standard language Texts) Expected reply-Standard reply (law Texts)

df

Sig. (2-tailed)

Mean 95% Confidence Difference Interval of the Difference Lower

Upper

â•⁄â•⁄ −,672 40

,505â•⁄

â•⁄ −,341

â•⁄ −1,37

â•⁄â•⁄ ,69

−18,581 40

,000

−9,268

−10,28

−8,26

Sig. > 0.05 » H0 (deviations are perceived in standard language texts). Sig. < 0.05 » H1 (deviations are not perceived in law texts). The results obtained with respect to the interpretation of modality in law texts in contrast to standard language texts also complied with our expectations. Figures€4 and 5 display the graphic representation of the tendency of informants to

14. Answers were assigned the values 1, 2 and 3 (for correct, unsatisfactory and incorrect respectively) and the following variables were created: Expected reply – standard reply (standard language texts): ‘correct’ evaluation (according to standard rules) – informant’s judgement (standard language texts). Expected reply – standard reply (law texts): ‘correct’ evaluation (according to standard rules)€– informant’s judgement (law texts).

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interpret modal verbs as uniquely deontic in law texts, while taking into account their ambiguity in standard usage.15 We also checked our hypothesis for statistical significance, using One-sample t-test. a. H0: mean of reply-Expected reply (standard language Texts) is 0 versus H1: mean of reply-Expected reply (standard language Texts) is not 0 and b. H0: mean of reply-Expected reply (law Texts) is 0 versus H1: mean of replyExpected reply (law Texts) is not 0. Table 3.╇ One Sample t-test for modality Test Value = 0

Expected reply–reply  (standard language Texts) Expected reply–reply  (law Texts)

T

df

Sig. (2-tailed)

Mean 95% Confidence Difference Interval of the Difference Lower Upper

17,536

40

,000

3,00000

2,6542

3,3458

−3,955

40

,000

−,53659

−,8108

−,2623

Sig. < 0.05 indicates that both standard language texts and law texts elicited the expected replies.

6.

Discussion

The study of data from law texts corroborated by the questionnaire has revealed an interesting phenomenon: expressions which are ambiguous in normal usage and leave the choice of interpretation to the addressee (such as the deontic or epistemic content of modal verbs) prove to be unambiguous in law (in the case of modal verbs, leading to a deontic interpretation). Conversely, uses which are unacceptable or unÂ�grammatical in standard usage (such as the use of past tenses in conditionals 15. Answers were assigned the values 1, 2 and 3 (for deontic, epistemic and deontic/epistemic) respectively and the following variables were created: Expected reply – reply (standard language texts): ‘correct’ mark (according to our expectation)€– informant’s judgement. Expected reply – reply (law texts): ‘correct’ mark (according to our expectation) – informant’s judgement.



The role of context in the interpretation of Greek laws

Mean = 3.00 Std. Dev. = 1.095 N = 41

20

Frequency

15

10

5

0

0.00

2.00 Standard

4.00

6.00

Figure 4.╇ Modality in standard language texts

Mean = –0.54 Std. Dev. = 0.869 N = 41

30

Frequency

20

10

0 –5.00

–4.00

–3.00

Figure 5: Modality in law texts

–2.00 Law

–1.00

0.00

1.00

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referring to the future) are available as options in law. It turns out, therefore, that the genre of law eliminates some choices which are available in standard usage, and at the same time offers as choices what in standard language constitute deviations. Moreover, these deviations are not even noticed by native speakers. An interesting outcome of the investigation was that our informants, as was reÂ� vealed by their interviews, immediately recognized the decontextualized passages as excerpts of laws. Asked how they reached this conclusion, they mentioned the voÂ�cabulary, the long and complex sentences and the repetition of words where a pronoun would normally be used. This suggests that these features function as contextualization cues by which readers recognize the genre of law. The deviations under investigation were not mentioned at all, which was to be expected, since they passed unnoticed in the questionnaire. According to Gumperz’s definition discussed in 3.3, they would still qualify as contextualization cues. In our view the existence of other, more salient cues, which are readily and consciously accessible to readers, means that if the grammatical deviations play a role at all in the process of contextualization, it must be of secondary importance. Turning to the deviations, we will start by discussing the most blatant one, i.e. the use in laws of the Past Perfect, which is ungrammatical in the corresponding mothers’ rules. This ungrammaticality is due to the fact that mothers’ rules, as all directives, are future-oriented, and hence, like all conditionals concerning the future, do not allow past tenses (see 4.4 above). What needs to be explained is why law, which is future-oriented as well, does not impose the same restrictions. The first step towards this explanation is to find out which part of the meaning of the past tenses could possibly license their use in the type of conditional found in law. We believe that the answer lies in the property of anteriority. Past tenses are intrinsically connected to anteriority on two levels. On the one hand as deictic elements they are defined by their relationship to the speaker’s present, to which they are anterior. More importantly for this discussion, they can also express anteriority within the past domain. This feature forms an integral part of the meaning of the Past Perfect. The Perfective Past (Aorist), being one of the most versatile forms of the Greek verb, is also often used to indicate anteriority in the past. The only past tense that cannot be used for this purpose (and is, on the contrary, used to express simultaneity in the past) is the Imperfective Past. Anteriority is also inherent in the meaning of every conditional, because the proposition of the protasis precedes that of the apodosis both logically and temporally. Since laws refer to the future, they express anteriority in the future. In the conditionals found in laws the past forms of the verb, including the Past Perfect, are only encountered in the protasis, i.e. in the part of the conditional which is by definition anterior to the apodosis. It would seem that this inherent



The role of context in the interpretation of Greek laws

anteriority of the protasis forces the interpretation of the past forms as anterior, foregrounding their own inherent anteriority at the expense of their counterfactuality, which, it should be noted, is a secondary layer of meaning, appearing only in certain contexts. It is also worth pointing out that the Imperfective Past (the only past tense incapable of expressing anteriority) is, crucially, the only past tense absent from laws. Anteriority is therefore the property of the Past Perfect and the Aorist which licenses their use in the protasis of laws. One further question that arises is why anteriority assumes such importance in laws. The answer, we believe, lies in the necessity for precision in the temporal sequence of the events that lead to the legal consequences. Example (10), analyzed in 5.3, is a case in point: (10) I prosvolí tis patrótitas apoklíete epísis metá to thánato tu téknu, ektós an íxe ídi askithí[past perfect] i sxetikí agogí ‘Challenge of paternity is not allowed after the death of the child, unless the relevant suit had already been filed’

The temporal sequence of events is crucial for the implementation of this law: challenge of paternity is allowed iff the suit is filed before the death of the child. The anteriority therefore has to be emphasized. In the verbal system it is the Past Perfect that is most strongly marked for anteriority. It is therefore the cognitive salience of anteriority that makes the Past Perfect acceptable. The preceding paragraphs have pinpointed anteriority as the feature of past tenses which licenses their deviant use in laws. It remains to be explained why this feature does not allow past tenses in mothers’ rules. The similarities of the two kinds of rules, which are due to the fact that they belong to the same type of speech act, obscure two crucial differences between them: (a) the fact that laws constitute a genre while mothers’ rules do not and (b)€that they are produced in and evoke different contexts. According to the definition adopted in this paper (3.4) mothers’ rules do not constitute a genre for the following reasons: mothers cannot be said to form a discourse community because they are not a professional group and they do not use a specific common register to accomplish a specific communicative purpose. Issuing rules is not the sole communicative purpose of the multi-faceted motherchild relationship. Laws, on the other hand, are issued by a highly trained, clearly identifiable professional community, in a particularly idiosyncratic register, often referred to as legal jargon or legalese. Moreover, not only do they have a very specific comÂ� municative purpose as described in 3.1, but they are the sole regulators of the relation between state and citizens.

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Table 4 compares laws and mothers’ rules with respect to the concept of genre: Table 4.╇ Laws, mothers’ rules and genre Constitutive elements

Law

Mother’s rule

discourse community communicative purpose discourse structure linguistic expression

+ CONSTANT CONSTANT CONSTANT

− VARIABLE VARIABLE VARIABLE

The only common characteristic of legislators and citizens on the one hand and mothers and children on the other is the authority and power relationship as described in 3.2. Even so, the degree of mothers’ power and its management vary considerably within the same society on an individual basis. Moreover, mothers’ rules are negotiable, while laws are not. These differences are closely linked to the context in which these rules are issued. Mothers’ rules are formulated in the context of everyday conversation between a mother and her child. This communication is carried out in standard everyday language and mothers’ rules are formulated according to its grammatical rules. Laws on the contrary are produced in a highly institutionalized context, in the frame of which there is no direct, face to face communication between the participants. Table 5 compares laws and mothers’ rules with respect to the factors discussed so far: Table 5.╇ Laws vs. mothers’ rules Features

Law

Mother’s rule

Command Future-orientation Power Genre Context evoked

+ + ++ + institutional

+ + + − everyday conversation

We believe that the differences in context explain why the deviant uses pass unnoticed in law while they are deemed unacceptable in mothers’ rules. When our informants were faced with a mother’s rule in the questionnaire they evoked the relevant context, i.e. everyday conversation, which is associated with the standard language and therefore noticed every deviation from its grammatical rules.



The role of context in the interpretation of Greek laws

It is crucial for our argument that when they were faced with laws, the informants did not merely realize that they were not parts of everyday conversation, but they recognized the specific genre. Their response to the texts can be satisfactorily explained only by the type of context it evokes. Due to the institutional nature of the genre of law the sociocultural context associated with it is brought along and established as default assignment (Auer and di Luzio 1992:â•›26–7). The recognition of the genre, therefore, evokes the relative cognitive frame, which includes the knowledge common to all members of society about a. the properties of law (future orientation, obligatoriness, all-inclusiveness, eternal validity) and b. the idiosyncratic linguistic expression of laws, which leads readers to expect a complicated, confusing and incomprehensible text, with “peculiarities” which they attribute to the genre. Hence, when they are dealing with law texts they try to make sense of them bearing in mind their knowledge of the nature of laws. As a consequence, a. they usually interpret modal verbs as deontic because of the obligatory nature of the law, b. they accept the perfective aspect in laws and interpret it as habitual even when there are no contextual markers of habituality, because they are aware of the potential eternal validity of the law, c. they accept tenses which in conditional sentences express counterfactuality and interpret them as expressing only anteriority because they know that laws are not dealing with non-realizable cases.

7.

Conclusions

The analysis presented in this paper revealed that the genre of law eliminates some of the choices available in standard usage, such as the epistemic interpretation of modal verbs, and offers choices that do not exist in standard usage by allowing deviant uses of the grammatical categories of tense and aspect. The fact that these “irregularities” remain unnoticed by native speakers, who immediately point them out in the case of mothers’ rules, was attributed to the genre of law and the relevant context.

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Genre, seen as a type of meso-context, connects the micro-context of each particular law to the socio-cultural macro-context. It ‘brings along’ information about the nature of law, its institutional character and the language of law which differs from everyday language in many respects. The context evoked in this way determines the interpretation of tense, aspect and modality. A different kind of context, that of everyday conversation, is evoked in the case of mothers’ rules which are therefore judged by the rules of standard usage. In both cases context affects the use of language: directly in the case of mothers’ rules and in the case of laws through the mediation of genre as meso-context.

References Athanasiadou, Angeliki and Dirven, René (eds.). 1997. On Conditionals Again. Amsterdam/ Philadelphia: John Benjamins. Auer, Peter. 1992. “Introduction: John Gumperz’ approach to contextualization.” In The Contextualization of Language, Peter Auer and Aldo di Luzio (eds), 1–37. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: John Benjamins. ———. 2009. “Context and Contextualization.” In Jef Verschueren and Jan-Ola Östman (eds), 86–101. Auer, Peter and di Luzio, Aldo. 1992. The Contextualization of Language. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: John Benjamins. Bauman, Richard and Briggs, Charles L. 1990. “Poetics and performances as critical perspectives on language and social life.” Annual Review of Anthropology 19: 59–88. Bella, Spyridoula. 2005. “Cognitive motivation and pragmatic functions of the Greek deictics.” Journal of Greek Linguistics 6: 39–60. Bhatia, Vijay K. 1994. “Cognitive structuring in legislative provisions.” In Language and the Law, John Gibbons (ed), 136–155. London: Longman. ———. 2004. Worlds of Written Discourse: a genre-based view. London/New York: Continuum. Canakis, Costas. 2007. Isagogi stin Pragmatologia: Gnostikes ke kinonikes opsis tis glosikis xrisis [Introduction to Pragmatics: Cognitive and social aspects of language use]. Athens: Ekdosis tou Ikostou Protou. Clairis, Christos and George Babiniotis, in collaboration with Αmalia Moser, Ekaterini Â�Bakakou-Orfanou, Stavros Skopeteas. 2005. Grammatiki tis Neas Ellinikis: DomolitourgikiÂ�Epikinoniaki [Grammar of Modern Greek: Structural-Functional-Communicative]. Athens: Ellinika Grammata. Comrie, Bernard. 1976. Aspect. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. ———. 1985. Tense. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Croft, William. 1994. “Sentence typology and the taxonomy of speech acts.” In Foundations of Speech Act Theory, Savas L. Tsohatzidis (ed), 460–477. London: Routledge. Crystal, David and Davy, Derek. 1969. Investigating English Style. Bloomington: Indiana University Press. Dahl, Östen. 1985. Tense and Aspect Systems. Oxford: Blackwell.



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Dancygier, Barbara. 1998. Conditionals and Prediction: Time, Knowledge and Causation in Conditional Constructions. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. de Beaugrande, Robert and Dressler, Wolfgang. 1981. Introduction to Text Linguistics. London: Longman. Engisch, Karl. 200510. Einführung in das juristische Denken [bearbeitet von T. Würtenberger u. D. Otto]. Stuttgart: Kohlhammer. Fetzer, Anita. 2007. “Context, contexts and appropriateness.” In Context and Appropriateness: Micro Meets Macro, Anita Fetzer (ed), 3–26. Amsterdam / PhilaÂ�delÂ�phia: John Benjamins. Georgiadis, Αpostolos S. 19972. Genikes arxes astikou dikaiou [General Principles of Civil Law]. Athens/Komotini: Sakkoulas. Goffman, Ervin. 1979. “Footing.” Semiotica 25: 1–29. ———. 1986. Frame Analysis: an Essay on the Organization of Experience. Boston: Northeastern University Press. Goodwin, Charles and Duranti, Alessandro. 1992. “Rethinking context: An introduction.” In Rethinking Context, Alessandro Duranti and Charles Goodwin (eds), 1–42. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Gumperz, John J. 1982. Discourse Strategies. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. ———. 1992. “Contextualization revisited.” In Peter Auer and Aldo di Luzio (eds), 39–53. Halliday, Michael A. K. and Hasan, Ruqaiya. 1976. Cohesion in English. London: Longman. ———. 1985. Language, Context and Text: Aspects of language in a social-semiotic perspective. Victoria: Deakin University Press. Holton, David, Mackridge, Peter and Philippaki-Warburton, Irene. 1997. Greek: A Comprehensive Grammar of the Modern Language. London: Routledge. Hoey, Michael. 2001. Textual Interaction: An Introduction to Written Discourse Analysis. London: Routledge. Hymes, Dell. 1974. Foundations in Sociolinguistics: an Ethnographic Approach. London: Routledge. Iakovou, Μaria. 1999. Tropikes Katigories sto rimatiko sistima tis Neas Ellinikis [Modal Categories in the Greek verbal system]. Doctoral Dissertation, University of Athens. Κurzon, Dennis. 1986. It is Hereby Performed: Explorations in Legal Speech Acts. Amsterdam/ Philadelphia: John Benjamins. Maley, Yon. 1994. “The language of the law.” In Language and the Law. John Gibbons (ed.), 11–50. Harlow: Longman. Mann, William C. and Thompson, Sandra A. 1988. “Rhetorical structure theory: Toward a functional analysis of text organization.” Text 8: 243–281. Mey, Jacob. 1993. Pragmatics: An Introduction. Oxford: Blackwell. Morgan, Edmund M. and Dwyer, Francis X. 19482. Introduction to the Study of Law. Chicago: Callaghan. Moser, Amalia. 2003. “Tense, aspect and the Greek perfect.” In Perfect Explorations, Artemis Alexiadou, Monika Rathert and Arnim von Stechow (eds), 235–252. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. ———. 2008. “The changing relationship of tense and aspect in Greek.” Typology and Universals (STUF) 61: 5–18. Moser, Amalia and Panaretou, Eleni. 2009. “Tense, aspect and modality in legal texts.” In Proceedings of the 8th International Conference on Greek Linguistics, Ioannina 2007 (online e-book: http://www.linguist-uoi.gr/cd_web/).

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Ochs, Eleanor. 1979. “Planned and unplanned discourse.” In Discourse and Syntax [Syntax and Semantics 12], Talmy Givón (ed), 51–80. New York: Academic Press. Palmer, F. R. 1986. Mood and Modality. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Panaretou, Eleni. 2005. Nomi ke kanones dikeu: glossika ke kimenika xaraktiristika [Laws and Legal Rules: Linguistic and Textual Features]. Athens, Parousia. Panaretou, Eleni. 2009. Nomikos logos: glossa ke domi ton nomon [Legal Discourse: Language and Structure of Laws]. Athens: Papazisis. Searle, John R. 1976. “A classification of illocutionary acts.” Language in Society 5: 1–24. Sbisà, Marina. 2001. “Illocutionary force and degrees of strength in language use.” Journal of Pragmatics 33: 1791–1814. ———. 2009. “Speech act theory.” In Jef Verschueren and Jan-Ola Östman (eds), 229–244. Swales, John M. 1990. Genre Analysis: English in Academic and Research Settings. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Tiersma, Peter. 1999. Legal Language. Chicago: University of Chicago Press. Troller, Alois. 1969. The Law and Order: An Introduction to thinking about the Nature of Law. Leyden: Sithoff. van Dijk, Teun A. (ed.). 1997. Discourse as Social Interaction. London: SAGE. Verschueren, Jef. 1999. Understanding Pragmatics. London/New York: Arnold. Verschueren, Jef and Östman, Jan-Ola (eds.). 2009. Key Notions for Pragmatics. Amsterdam/ Philadelphia: John Benjamins.

Appendix Questionnaire* Questionnaire I (QI) In the following texts a. If an element seems wrong or unsatisfactory, please underline and correct/improve it b. Mark the box that corresponds to your evaluation (correct, incorrect, unsatisfactory) (1) Vassili, you will play[imperfective] football in the afternoon only if you finish[perfective] your homework. (2) If the debtor detaches[perfective] […] one object for payment, the obligation is concentrated on this […] If the debtor sends[imperfective] the object […] the concentration occurs […] after the object is delivered. (3) If you choose[imperfective] the more expensive tiles, you will save[perfective] money in the long run, because they last longer. (4) From now on, if you decide to make a withdrawal[perfective subj.] you will need your passport. If you deposit[imperfective subj.] money you don’t need to bring along any document. (5) Ari, you play[present] football in the afternoon only if you had finished[past perfect] your homework.

* Translation of law excerpts was limited to the parts containing the grammatical category under investigation. In the original questionnaire they were quoted in full.



The role of context in the interpretation of Greek laws

(6) If a contract […] was signed[past perfect] […] under duress and […] was declared void[perfective past] […] the decision is effective[present] only after it is copied[perfective past] […] (7) If payment […] is arranged[perfective subj.] for a set date, it is considered overdue[present] after the end of this day. If a deadline is set[present perfect] […], payment is considered overdue after the expiry of the deadline. (8) If you had cooked[past perfect], let’s go to a movie. (9) If an object [has] escaped[present perfect] the user’s authority and [has] moved[present perfect] into someone else’s property, the user of the property is obliged to allow search and repossession thereof. (10) Listen, Leonidas, there are rules: in the morning you don’t set out for school unless you’ve drunk[perfective past] all your milk and made up[perfective past] your bed. (11) Dione, I’ll say this for last time: if you don’t finish eating[perfective subj.] you won’t leave[imperfective future] your chair. (12) – Mum, can I play with George Tuesdays? – Only if you’ve finished[perfective past] your English homework. (13) Every time I want[present] to make a withdrawal I show[present] my passport, because my identity card is too old to be acceptable[present]. (14) If the testator has named[perfective past] as his heir a person who had not been born[past perfect] at the time of his death, the bequest is treated as a trust fund (15) Mum, can I go[perfective] to the cinema with my friends? If George’s father drives[imperfective] you back, O.K. (16) Vassili, you will play football[perfective] in the afternoon only if you’ve finished[imperfective] your homework. (17) A merger is proposed [present] […] if at the time when the demands coexisted the deadline […] had not expired [past perfect] (18) Anna, if you haven’t finished [perfective past] your food, you will not leave [imperfective subjunctive] the table. (19) Niko, you will play [imperfective subj.] football in the afternoon only if you’ve finished [present perfect] your homework. (20) The owner […] has the right to prohibit [perfective] building on the neighbouring plot. If building is attempted [imperfective] after a building permit has been obtained […] prohibition can be demanded only if damages […] have already occurred [perfective past]. Questionnaire II (Q2) Please replace every bori and prepi with an equivalent expression (e.g. maybe, it is compulsory etc.) (1) Anyone with a degree in Classics may teach Ancient Greek in Secondary Education. (2) I am very sorry to have to interrupt you, but I’m afraid you will have to move. (3) The testator may oblige the legatee […] (4) I haven’t seen him, but he must have arrived. (5) Each of you has different skills. I’m sure you’ll all get a job eventually. Yannis could teach music. (6) I don’t know how many books will sell at the Easter bazaar. People don’t buy too many books lately. Some have no money, others don’t read – Ellie must buy some, though. (7) If you intend to travel to certain countries, you will have to be inoculated in advance.

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40 Amalia Moser and Eleni Panaretou

(8) A dangerous substances accident may also be an air accident. In this case the usual procedure must be followed’. (9) If the person who has suffered the damage has contributed to the damage […] the court may not award damages or may reduce the amount. (10) I haven’t seen him, but he must have arrived. Questionnaire III (QIII) Please fill in the gaps with the appropriate form of the verb in brackets. (1) Each morning before ________ (LEAVE) for work my brother has to _______ (SEE) the kids onto the school bus. (2) Subjects taught during the previous academic year will be examined according to last year’s regulations if students ______________ (SIGN UP) for them before June. (3) Objects which ________ (CONNECT) to the ground non-permanently are not considered parts of the property. The same regulation pertains to buildings which ________ (ERECT) on land belonging to a different owner by one who ________ (HAVE) the authority to do so. (4) The person who has care of the object is held responsible as long as different provisions ________ (NOT BE MADE). (5) Objects are deprived of this property from the moment that they ________ (STOP) being used for a […] municipal or religious reason. (6) Students lose their student rights if they ____ not __________ (RE-REGISTER). (7) The lawsuit is unacceptable if the person damaged ________ (OBTAIN) the freehold by improper means. (8) ___________ (MAKE) moussaka. Will you come to dinner? (9) You can only take your dog with you when you go abroad if it ____________ (INNOCCULATE) recently. (10) The owner […] is obliged to ________ (ACCEPT) smoke emission, noise and similar side-effects. He has however the right to ________ (PROHIBIT) the installation of machinery which is certain to produce such effects. (11) Every child has to _________ (STUDY) for at least two hours, but has the right to _________ (WATCH) television for one hour. (12) Tomorrow ___________ (COOK) spaghetti. Yannis and Iphigeneia ________ (COME) over.

Fighting words Hybrid discourse and discourse processes Lawrence N. Berlin The purpose of this research is to investigate how, through the blending of orders of discourse, words can become actions and militarizing language can lead a nation to the brink of war. By exerting political power while broadcasting his weekly program, Aló, Presidente, Venezuelan President Hugo Chávez not only creates a hybrid discourse, but also integrates the processes of entextualization and contextualization in that hybrid. Using a critical discourse analysis, a pragmatic model of multilayered context unveils elements in those processes whereby the talk and interaction render an external reality. Ultimately, it is the careful and systematic choice and inclusion of synchronic and diachronic elements that will resonate with the target audience, even when introduced over a relatively short period of time, which ostensibly manages to create a plausible enemy in order to support military aggression. Thus, manipulation of language begets manipulation of ideology.

1.

Introduction 

“Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me.”

The above idiom has long been taught to and used by small children on playgrounds as a retort to name-calling. It suggests that words do not have the force to wound in the sense that concrete objects used as weapons do. While everyone knows this to be true, it cannot be denied that words can and often do have an effect on the recipient. The question is whether their effect can be so pervasive that it foments a common belief, one that might even lead to aggression; and the answer is “yes”. In fact, it happens all the time. And the more effective the wordsmith, the better the chance that people will believe. Take, for example, the popular novel, The Da Vinci Code (Brown 2003). On the New York Times best-seller list for 136 weeks, it has sold over 80 million copies

42

Lawrence N. Berlin

and has been translated into more than 40 languages to date (Sage 2009). While this feat is remarkable in itself, what is even more remarkable is the degree of controversy since its publication. Cleverly weaving together a hodgepodge of actors, activities, and places from throughout history, many of which would be relatively familiar to a large swath of the general public, Brown created a story that was plausible enough to have millions of ordinary people believing that the work of fiction is, at least in part, factual (Gessell 2005; Stetzer 2006). Believers even went so far as to use more than sticks and stones – hammers and chisels – causing damage to a church in the United Kingdom which had been identified in the book (BBC 2006; Wilkes 2006). As an isolated incident, the event would appear “relatively” harmless, but the extent of belief in the text has actually produced large scale response from myriad sources, including many religious, to rebut the inaccuracies found therein (Catholic News Service 2006). In terms of what is being called “fighting words”, or militarizing language, heads of state have often been the figureheads who are required to make a case for going to war (cf. Fairclough 2005; Graham and Luke 2005; Rudd 2004; van Dijk 2005). And the grounds don’t necessarily need to be factual, just believable. In a poll conducted by the Program on International Policy Attitudes after the United States invaded Iraq, while only 50% of those polled believed that the government’s justification for going to war was “not being misleading”, a full 57% continued to believe that Iraq possessed weapons of mass destruction, 41% believed that the weapons had actually been found, and an overwhelming 68% approved of the decision to go to war (PIPA 2003). Thus, in the advancement of “soft power” defined as “getting others to want what you want” (Nye 2004:â•›5), Chouliaraki (2005) implies that the case for legitimacy can be achieved through consensus-building. In the current chapter, I explore the possibility that this consensus-building can occur by (1) merging two orders of discourse – political and media – both of which serve as “instruments of soft power” (Chouliaraki 2005:â•›3); (2) contextualizing the new hybrid through the exploitation of components from both; and (3)€entextualizing familiar historical referents that will resonate with the target audience, a politician can attempt to make a case for military aggression where any option appears untenable. To explore the scenario, the chapter utilizes the Multilayered Model of Context (MMC) intended for the examination of discourse from a critical perspective (Berlin 2007). Within this model, the stratification of “context” can be said to coincide at each respective level with the speaker’s ability to entextualize language (i.e., delimit its use as recognizable within a given discourse or genre) and/or to contextualize its discourse space (i.e., create a context associated with a discourse or genre wherein the language is used). Moreover, it allows for a fine-grained analysis in the realization of a critical discourse analysis by separating out the



Fighting words: Hybrid discourse and discourse processes

linguistic, interactional, situational, and extrasituational levels of context without suggesting that they are mutually exclusive. Rather, the ability to consider the various levels and how they influence one another leads to a deeper understanding of their interplay in the analysis of the discourse, the practice, and the conjuncture (Chouliaraki and Fairclough 1999). The MMC is applied to data obtained from the weekly broadcast of Aló, Presidente (n.d.), a Venezuelan television show consisting of “interviews” with Hugo Chávez, the President of the Bolivarian Republic. Focusing on broadcasts from the latter part of 2007 into and culminating with the early part of 2008 when Chávez calls for the mobilization of Venezuelan troops to go to the border with Colombia, the excerpts from the transcripts exemplify how specific elements identified in the analysis of the practice and the conjuncture function to contextualize the discourse as a hybrid of political and media discourse, while speakers’ use of specific utterances demonstrating familiarity with the power of entextualized forms to invoke certain expectations and interpretations emerges in the analysis of the discourse. In particular, the progression of Chávez’ particularized use of militarizing language is traced over time in order to determine if the hybrid is “of a particular speech event or […] a more global institutional context” (Fetzer 2004:â•›8–9).

2.

Multilayered model of context Extrasituational context Analysis of the Conjuncture

Analysis of the Practice

Situational context Interactional context Linguistic context Analysis of the Discourse

Analysis of the Conjuncture

Figure 1.╇ Multilayered Model of Context (Berlin 2007)

In the original iteration of the Multilayered Model of Context (Berlin 2007), the concept of context was broken down into four distinct levels following a theoretical perspective informed by critical discourse analysis (Chouliaraki and

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Â�Fairclough 1999; Fairclough 1989, 1995), systemic functional linguistics (HallidayÂ� 1978, 1984, 2002a, 2002b; Widdowson 2004), speech act theory (AustinÂ� 1962; Levinson 1983; Sbisà 2002; Searle 1969), and linguistic anthropology (Goodwin and Duranti 1992; Urban 1991). These levels were identified as the linguistic context (or co-text), the interactional context, the situational context, and the extrasituational context (see Figure 1). The linguistic context is represented by the units of analysis which are delimited and identified in the text together with their immediate environments in the sense of a more traditional linguistic analysis (e.g., words, phrases, clauses, wordclasses, speech acts). From a linguistic perspective, these are the most objective and incontrovertible elements within discourse. For example, in (1) (Aló, Presidente program no. 297:â•›20), President Chávez uses the inclusive we-forms with “we evaluated” (‘evaluamos’) and “we will continue” (‘seguiremos’) to position himself as a partner of the French government in negotiating on behalf of the Colombian government with FARC (Fuerzas Armadas Revolucionarias de Colombia). (1) a. Chávez: […] Yo recibí esta semana a un emisario del president Sarkozy, el director para América Latina, Daniel Parfait, de una gran experiencia, un conocedor, fue embajador en Colombia, y un grupo de asesores del Gobierno francés muy interesados en esto, y evaluamos opciones y seguiremos trabajando pues. b. Chávez: […] This week, I received an emissary from President Sarkozy, the Director for Latin America, Daniel Parfait, an experience man, a connoisseur, and a former Colombian ambassador, and a group of consultants from the French government are very interested in this, and we evaluated the options and we will continue working.

Another example can be seen in the use of speech acts. In (2) (Aló, Presidente program no. 297:â•›46–47), Chávez issues the command in line 10 whereby he orders the elimination of the tolls he asks about in line 2. In so doing, he fulfills the necessary requirements of the illocutionary requirements in that there is a future act being requested of the hearer, Diosdado, who as the governor of the state (1) is able to perform the action and (2) might not have obviously performed the action without the express request of Chávez (i.e., he had not previously closed those two tolls). (2) 1 Chávez: Where do the people pass if not there? Well, my friend eliminated 2 ╇ those tolls in a very orderly manner. Are there any tolls left in Miranda? 3 Diosdado: Two tolls. 4 Chávez: And why do you have tolls, Diosdado? Which are the tolls that you 5 ╇ have there? 6 Diosdado: No, I’m letting you know, Mr. President, that we have already 7 ╇ discussed eliminating the tolls in Tazón and Playa Pintada, the two that are



Fighting words: Hybrid discourse and discourse processes

8 ╇ left, with the Minister of the Infrastructure. 9 Audience: [applause] 10 Chávez: Eliminate them! Now, what is being done to give concessions to the 11 ╇ private sectors? They covered the toll supposedly to maintain the highways, 12 ╇ and they haven’t done maintenance or anything.

The interactional context incorporates the scope of language use. It includes Hymes’ (1972) notion of knowing how to use language and Austin’s (1962) knowing how to do things with words; it is Wittgenstein’s (1958) “language games” and Halliday’s (1984) “language as behavior”. Following Halliday, the interactional context is further divided into two sublevels: the ideational and the interpersonal. The ideational represents what is going on behind the language, internal to the mind of the speaker, but indexed in the language used, such as speaker intent, presupposition, entailment, and implicature. It may not be evident in the text, and usually requires an interpretation of the pragmatic situation in order for it to be revealed. The interpersonal represents what is accomplished by and through the language, what the interaction itself accomplishes. It is external and heareroriented and can result in uptake on the part of the hearer to the extent that it produces a reaction, demonstrating the power of language to have actual force in the world, where more evident references intended for the hearer are perceived and acted upon. Once again referring to (2), the order to eliminate the two tolls entails that they are still open and active; it also subsumes the preparatory rule in the speech act that Chávez must be in a position to order their immediate closure, a fact taken for granted since he is the president of the republic. It can also be inferred in the ideational sublevel that he is further attempting to maintain or deepen the rift that exists between the private sector – not typically his supporters – and the public by referring to the former’s mismanagement of the tolls and alluding to a misappropriation of the people’s money (i.e., it hasn’t been used for maintenance of the highways as it was intended). It is also clear on the interpersonal sublevel that Chávez is using the particular occasion of the presence of an audience to issue the command as Diosdado has just assured him (lines 6–8) that there has already been a discussion of eliminating the two tolls in question and, most likely, this would have happened eventually even without the president’s intervention. The uptake on the part of the governor, however, will be to move swiftly to comply with the ordered closures. The situational context relates to Malinowski’s (1923) “context of situation” where the physical environment becomes a co-participant in the ability to carry out certain interactions. Identified on the level of domain from an anthropological perspective (cf. Spradley 1980), the situational context’s components – actors, activities, and places – represent a delimited social situation which is immediate and recognizable. Chávez appears to be keenly aware of how important the

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situationalÂ� context can be; he opens each show “on location” in different parts of the country, presenting everything from farms to national parks to monuments. Despite his position as president, he is depicted as one of the common people; he has even opened the show on horseback, rivaling his former arch-nemesis, George W. Bush, who also took every opportunity to portray himself as a “regular guy” to the viewing public. The extrasituational context is more elusive, existing on a subconscious level for the participants and overhearers who share common cultural norms. Further subdividing this level of context for a finer-grained explication, there are (1) the sociolinguistic or considerations and recognition of the discourse as a particular type or order; (2) the sociocultural or the synchronic, local influences that position a discourse in relation to other simultaneous events; and (3) the sociopolitical or the diachronic; global influences that give historicity to an event by positioning it in time and as being related to other events in the common knowledge of participants. The sociolinguistic is discussed at length in Section 4.1 where the opening of Aló, Presidente is shown to include all the elements of a news interview (Clayman 1991). Examples of the synchronic and diachronic are replete with references to current events (e.g., the Israeli incursion into the Gaza strip) and popular culture (e.g., Vitto Corleone, a character from the movie The Godfather), and cultural and historical knowledge that the Venezuelan viewing audience – and possibly anyone else viewing in Latin America – is likely to be familiar with (e.g., Simon Bolívar, Gran Colombia, the Battle of Ayacucho; cf. Bushnell 2007). The MMC shares qualities with other models of context. Fetzer’s (2004) social action model (SAM) and the interplay of contexts (cf. Fetzer and Akman 2002) breaks down context into three levels: the linguistic context, the social context, and the sociocultural context (see Table 1). The linguistic context in Fetzer’s model roughly corresponds with that of the MMC, but also includes elements of the MMC’s interactional context; Fetzer explains that in a conversation-analytic framework, the “language produced (formulated) and interpreted (decoded) by co-participants is assigned a dual function” (2004:â•›5); specifically, “it invokes linguistic context by constructing it” (2004:â•›5) while it simultaneously manages to “provide the context for subsequent talk and recovery of intended meaning” (2004:â•›6). The combined process is the essence of entextualization where, paraphrasing Fetzer, the language in the linguistic context is decontextualized in a local negotiation of meaning, then recontextualized at a global level for clarification. The unique feature of the MMC here, then, is that it separates the talk from its use, the linguistic from the pragmatic, giving the actors’ intentions, strategies, etc. a different status than the texts that they produce; thus, following systemic functional linguistics, language as code and language as behavior are represented as two different levels in the MMC.



Fighting words: Hybrid discourse and discourse processes

Table 1.╇ Comparison between the Multilayered Model of Context  and the Social Action Model Berlin (2007)

Fetzer (2004)

LINGUISTIC CONTEXT “language as code” –╇units (e.g., word, phrase, clause, sentence, …); classes (e.g., verbal, nominal, adverbial) –╇initiative-response, adjacency pair, move, turn, transaction, exchange, sequence –╇ speech act*

LINGUISTIC CONTEXT –╇ communicative contribution –╇ speech act –╇ utterance –╇ turn –╇ discourse –╇“language produced (formulated) and interpreted (decoded) by co-participants” (2004:â•›5) –╇ [time, location, speaker, hearer]

INTERACTIONAL CONTEXT “language as behavior” internal/speakeroriented –╇intent, presupposition, entailment, implicature, etc. ╇╇“not readily apparent in the text, but interpreted through the pragmatic situation” (2007:â•›170) –╇illocutionary force ╇╇“mental phenomena, beliefs, values, desires” (ChouliarakiÂ�€& Fairclough 1999:â•›61)

external/heareroriented –╇ strategies, tactics –╇perlocutionary effect ╇╇“social relations and processes (social relations, power, institutions)” (ChouliarakiÂ� & FaircloughÂ� 1999:â•›61)

SOCIAL CONTEXT –╇ status –╇ roles –╇ footings “co-participants, immediate concrete, physical surroundings including time and location, and the macro contextual institutional and non-institutional domains” (2004:â•›7)

SITUATIONAL CONTEXT –╇ actors, activity, space –╇ “material activity” EXTRASITUATIONAL CONTEXT –╇ synchronic and local/sociocultural –╇ diachronic and global/sociopolitical –╇ cultural domain

SOCIOCULTURAL CONTEXT  (EXTRALINGUISTIC) “co-participants, their physical and psychological dispositions and the specific knowledge or assumptions about the persons involved, the knowledge of the language, the knowledge of routines and activity types, their communicative intentions and communicative goals, and general background knowledge. […] organizational contexts and other socio-historically constituted contexts of institutions and (sub)cultures” (2004:â•›9)

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Fetzer’s (2004) model incorporates some of these behavioral features in its social context, such as speaker status, roles, and footings. Contrastively, the MMC keeps these distinct from this level, focusing only on those concrete elements also included in the social context of the SAM: the actors, their activities, and the physical space itself. Perhaps the area of the greatest convergence can be found between the extralinguistic context of the MMC and the sociocultural context of the SAM. Fetzer defines this level as including the “physical and psychological dispositions and the specific knowledge or assumptions about the persons involved, the knowledge of the language, the knowledge of routines and activity types, their communicative intentions and communicative goals, and general background knowledge [as well as] organizational contexts and other socio-historically constituted contexts of institutions and (sub)cultures” (2004:â•›9). I would add that these forms of knowledge are especially and uniquely informed by the culture within which the participants exist, their dispositions being influenced by the current (synchronic) local events and the formative forces that create distinct cultures over time.

3.

Contextualization and entextualization

Following the postpositivist shift which has gradually become more accepted in academia over the past few decades, there has been a concomitant shift in the analysis of discourse away from a more traditional focus on products to a focus on processes (Bauman and Briggs 1990). For example, in the MMC, which was designed to apply within a critical discourse analytic framework, distinct elements (i.e., products) are identified within each of the various levels of context (e.g., a speech act), but the realization of processes occurs in the interplay between the layers (see Figure 2). Thus, the analysis of the discourse which emerges as the interplay between the language (linguistic context) and how it is used (interactional context), the analysis of the practice by which certain interactions occur within certain situations, and the analysis of the conjuncture where situations are defined and positioned within and informed by the larger society and its culture (i.e., extrasituational context) occur within and between the multiple layers. Among the processes which are particularly relevant and which this volume highlights are the complementary processes of contextualization and entextualization. Contextualization has been defined as “an active process of negotiation in which participants reflexively examine the discourse as it is emerging, embedding assessments of its structure and significance in the speech itself ” (Bauman and Briggs 1990:â•›69). As such, it can be viewed as either context-producing (i.e., the context is created, ostensibly through voicing and the recognition of the text as



Fighting words: Hybrid discourse and discourse processes

Extrasituational context

Analysis of the practice

Linguistic context

Analysis of the discourse

Interactional context

Analysis of the conjuncture

Situational context Contextualizing processes

Entextualizing processes

Figure 2.╇ Multilayered Model of Context (revised 2011)

being part of a particular discourse) or, reciprocally, meaning defining and delimiting (i.e., a process by which context delimits what can be said in an interaction and how the talk which occurs therein is to be interpreted). An example of the former can be seen in (3) (Aló, Presidente program no. 299:â•›1) where the format of the exchange indicates that an interview is about to commence (see Section 4.1 for a more thorough analysis of the components of an opening sequence for an interview). An example of the latter can be seen in (2) where the respective roles and statuses of the interactants (i.e., the actors in the situational context, the president is speaking to one of his governors) renders the issuing of a command feasible. (3) 1 President of the Bolivarian Republic of Venezuela, Hugo Chávez Frías: 2 ╇ Sunday, January 6. Happy New Year and Happy Three Kings’ Day; today 3 ╇ is the day of the kings. Diosdado, what did the three kings bring? 4 Governor of Miranda, Diosdado: I’m waiting, my commander, for tonight. 5 Chávez: You’re still waiting. Happy New Year then, and Happy Three Kings’

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6 ╇ Day to Venezuela and all Miranda. We’re making the program Hello, Mr. 7 ╇ President number 299. The battle has begun, Pedro Morejón Carillo, isn’t 8 ╇ that right? 9 Minister of the Power of the People’s Economy, Pedro Morejón Carrillo: 10 ╇ Yes. 11 Chávez: Do you know the family of Eneas Perdomo Carrillo? 12 Carrillo: Sort of. 13 Chávez: Eneas Perdomo Carrillo. Well, we love to come here and visit 14 ╇ Charallave, Miranda, starting in 2008. The battle has begun, this is going to 15 ╇ be a good year, and, well, the year of the three R’s, we’ve said: revision, 16 ╇ rectification, and a new revolutionary boost. And we love to start the year 17 ╇ with program 299 of Hello, Mr. President, here, inaugurating this 18 ╇ tremendous center of socialism – because that is the rumbo: socialism€– 19 ╇ that carries the name of Ezequiel Zamora, born very close to here in Cúa. 20 ╇ Here we are in Charallave. Well, Diosdado and Morejón, let’s go in then. 21 ╇ What an amazing dining hall! This is the dining hall?

The advocates of the centrality of context have often assumed the position that text cannot or should not be viewed outside of its context; such a stance, then, tends to view work focusing on isolated text skeptically and questions the degree to which a purely linguistic analysis can inform a full understanding of discourse. Entextualization, on the other hand, is a process which embodies two aspects: decontextualization and recontextualization. The first part, decontextualization, has been suggested as primary by Bauman and Briggs when they define the concept as “the process of rendering discourse extractable, of making a stretch of linguistic production into a unit – a text – that can be lifted out of its interactional setting” (1990:â•›73). While this aspect of entextualization suggests that texts can not only be taken out of context for the purpose of analysis, but are, in fact, extracted by speakers all the time, the latter aspect of recontextualization implies that the extracted texts can be repositioned into other contexts – potentially other discourses – and that they are, consequently, context-recreating. Park and Â�Bucholtz, in an attempt at simplification, have forwarded a definition wherein both aspects are addressed, identifying entextualization as “the process by which circulable texts are produced by extracting discourse from its original context and reifying it as a bounded object” (2009:â•›485). Excerpt (4) (Aló, Presidente 302:â•›68) presents a simplified example where Chávez incorporates the reading of a headline (lines 1–2) and part of a news Â�article (lines 4–7) into his broadcast. The piece has been removed from its original context (decontextualized) and inserted into Chávez’ address to the audience (recontextualized) to underscore his claim that the United States and Colombia are conspiring against Venezuela and him.



Fighting words: Hybrid discourse and discourse processes

(4) 1 Chávez: Now here is Díaz Rangel’s column: “The increasing [threat] against 2 ╇ Venezuela.” Eleazar Díaz Rangel. Listen, you should give Díaz Rangel a 3 ╇ good interview one of these days, a good journalist. 4 ╇╇ Let’s read a piece, no more: “It appears evident” – I’m quoting – “that we 5 ╇ are being confronted with an increasing [threat] against Venezuela, with the 6 ╇ bases in Washington and Bogotá, the [Commander] of the US Armed Forces 7 ╇ in Colombia claims that the Venezuelan threat…” Here we have the 8 ╇ commander of the Bolivarian Army, General Mata Figueroa. 9 Audience: [applause]

Other examples can be seen when specific signifiers appear in the linguistic context, such as references to historical figures or events, that carry a particular meaning for the hearers; the integration of these signifiers is revealed in the analysis of the conjuncture and indicates a form of entextualization whereby the user can be said to manipulate language by their insertion in order to invoke a response in the hearers (see Section 4.2 for examples). The representation of distinct definitions and levels of context, however, should not undermine the need to comprehend the multiple levels as interrelated. For instance, even though the nature of entextualization suggests that texts can be extracted from their original context, the second aspect of the process – recontextualization – requires that the text be linked to a new context in order to be understood. Furthermore, to see the processes of contextualization and entextualization as separate or oppositional runs the risk of missing a vital understanding of the discourse under examination.

4.

Analyses

The data chosen for analysis are a series of broadcasts from the program Aló, Presidente (see Table 2) which emanates from Venezuela, specifically numbers 296–313 which represent the period from September 2007 through June 2008. To provide some background information, the time represents a period when the Colombian military had been conducting incursions across their borders into the jungles of Ecuador and Venezuela to fight FARC; some notable leaders of FARC had been assassinated by the army. It was clear that the US had been involved – as it has been in Colombia for a long time. Venezuelan President Hugo Chávez had been functioning in some capacity as an intermediary between the government of Colombia and FARC. Having railed against US imperialism on numerous occasions, the Colombian incursions across the border into sovereign Ecuadorian territory to rout FARC members (Ecuadorian President Correa being a close ally

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Table 2.╇ Source material for study from Aló, Presidente, episodes 296–313 No.

Date

Location

296 297 298 299 300 301 302 304 306 307 308 309 311 312 313

9/30/2007 10/7/2007 10/14/2007 1/7/2008 1/13/2008 1/20/2008 1/27/2008 2/17/2008 3/2/2008 3/16/2008 3/30/2008 4/27/2008 5/11/2008 6/8/2008 6/15/2008

Sector Tierra Blanca, Mun: Barinas, State: Barinas Cerro Guaraira Repano (Parque Nacional “El Ávila”) Santa Clara, Provincia de Villa Clara, CUBA Charallave, State: Miranda San Francisco de Tiznados, Mun: Ortiz, State: Guárico Mun: Machiques de Perijá, State: Zulia Caicara de Maturín, Mun: Cedeño, State: Monagas Morichal Largo, Mun: Independencia, State: Anzoátegui Plaza Caracas, Caracas Barquisimeto, State: Lara Nuestra Señora de Coromoto, Mun: Guacara, State: Carabobo Mun: Santiago Mariño, State: Aragua Maracaibo, State: Zulia Santa Ana de Coro, State: Falcón Sector La Encantada, El Junquito, State: Vargas

of Chávez) was seen as further evidence of US interference in South American affairs which Chávez has long been trying to dominate. The Colombian military attacks coinciding with an increasing number of visits by high ranking officials in the Bush Administration to Colombia at the time, presumably for talks about a free trade agreement between the two countries, Chávez grew increasingly paranoid about the possibility that plots were afoot to assassinate him. Previous work looking at Aló, Presidente has focused on the trustworthiness and credibility of the presidential discourse (cf. Shiro and Nuñez 2007) and conflict and attenuation in political dialogue (cf. Bolívar, Chumaceiro, and Erlich 2007). In this particular presentation, however, I focus on the discourse of the Venezuelan President, Hugo Chávez Frías, as it is replete with entextualization and contextualization, the former seen in examples of historicity and the latter evident in Chávez manipulation of conventions of use to create a hybrid discourse. While the two processes could be handled separately, the dynamic interplay of the two over the course of the period examined underscores the benefit of Â�conducting an extended critical discourse analysis rather than limiting the exploration to a single iteration of talk. However, in an effort to simplify the discussion, Chouliaraki and Fairclough have identified the “particular contribution” of critical discourse analysis in terms of the interdiscursive analysis, where the relevant analyses are of (1) the “choice” or the extent to which “a particular type of communicative interaction draws upon a mixed resource of discursive practices (genres and discourses) with low maintenance of boundaries within and across orders of discourse”



Fighting words: Hybrid discourse and discourse processes

(1999:â•›116) and (2) the “chain” or the charting of “channels between discursive practices within and across orders of discourse which systematically connect one discursive practice with another” (1999:â•›116). In Section 4.1, I will demonstrate how the program takes on aspects of media discourse, wherein information presented serves to transmit a perspective to the public. Next, and embedded within this order of discourse, the chosen references to the political as discussed by Chilton (2004) and Fairclough (1995) are revealed as the hegemonic power of the President’s personal “talk show” reveals a strong case for the argument of a hybrid. In Section 4.2, I will focus my attention on the chain of the framing of “Colombia” over time, first represented as a single entity, unified and positively viewed within Chávez’ language use, and later signified as divided between the government (referred to negatively by Chávez as “la oligarquía colombiana” – ‘the Colombian oligarchy’) and the people (referred to positively as “el pueblo colombiano”), a situation which builds toward several political incidents, not least of which is the call for militarizing the border between Venezuela and Colombia, further support of the claim by Bolívar (2001) that the program has been used as an instrument to incite “violent attacks” against those whom Chávez opposes (Bolívar, Chumaceiro, and Erlich 2007). Excerpts from several of the broadcasts are presented.

4.1 Choice analysis: Structure of the media interview Clayman (1991) breaks down the sequential organization of a news interview opening which pertains to the general structure being discussed here. In the opening sequence, the interviewer speaks to the camera – allegedly addressing the extant audience – and delivers the “headline”, providing a welcome, identifying the program, and sharing information about the interviewee. The headline is followed by the “story” wherein relevant background information is provided. Next comes the “lead-in” which generally includes a “pre-introduction” and an “introduction”; the two combined provide an orientation for the audience toward the interviewee by situating him or her within the story and presenting an immediate context for the program’s topic. Clayman goes on to differentiate this sequenceÂ� from a more casual conversation by means of highlighting the staged nature of the interaction. He explains that (1) the interviewees are already primed to talk, having been invited and made aware of the interview; (2) they dispense with the social niceties embedded in greetings as they have already been introduced and, in cases where there are several interviewees, are expected to be prepared to address one another; and (3) they are already aware of the topic of conversation, it having been introduced previously.

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In (3), presented in Section 3, the opening of Aló, Presidente exhibits all the characteristics of Clayman’s (1991) opening sequence. Taking each component in turn, the very beginning of the episode incorporates the “headline” (lines 2–7), including information about the date, a welcome, and identification of the program and episode; the “story” (lines 7–16), giving some background information which will orient the audience including the topic of the program and introducing some of the guests; and the “lead-in” (lines 16–21), sharing information to situate the audience. In many cases, portions of these elements can overlap, but the main idea in Clayman’s work is that they are all present and indicative of a type of media discourse (i.e., the news interview). In (2), presented in Section 3, it is also obvious that the turn-taking which occurs between Chávez as interviewer and Diosdado as interviewee follows patterning identified for news interviews by Heritage and Greatbatch (1991), as well as Clayman (1991), where the interviewer generates questions and the interviewee(s) respond; more specifically, the framing of the question by the interviewer determines the direction of talk by the interviewee. One of the elements that underscores how these interviews deviate from the norm, however, is the fact that rather than being the one interviewed as the head of state, Chávez is the one conducting the interview, extending his power from a CDA perspective in the sense that he embodies both the power of the state as president and the power of the interviewer – following Heritage and Greatbatch – as the one who directs the talk. At this point, however, the political referents are increasingly obvious – as are the signifiers of power – beginning in line 2 where Chávez refers to “tolls” (‘los peajes’), asking the Governor of the State of Miranda how many are still functioning and then giving authorization for their closure in line 10. Thus, while the structure supports an interpretation of the discourse as “media”, the content indicates the political – in fact, it can be argued that the discourse of enactment and transaction merge in Aló, Presidente every time Chávez issues a dictate and uses the medium of television through which to carry it out. To further underline the hybrid nature of this show in particular, Fairclough (1995) traces an analysis of identity change in political television where not only the elements of a political interview and simulated conversation are apparent, but also multiple aspects that could be classified as “entertainment” are found, Â�making Aló, Presidente appear more like a variety show at times with Chávez opening each episode “on location” (see Table 2). Additionally, the show may include the reading of poems and the singing of songs – performed by the President himself€– adding to the variety show feel indexed in the various shows arranged in montage in the opening banner. In all cases, the content, whether taking the form of an interview or one of his many soliloquies, is overtly dominated by Chávez in terms of the amount of talk, the direction of talk, and the messages being transmitted to the viewing audience.



Fighting words: Hybrid discourse and discourse processes

4.2 Chain analysis: Increasing the rhetoric against Colombia Starting with the analysis of the practice, the situational context in (5) contains Venezuelan President Hugo Chávez with one of his guests, (Colombian) Senator Piedad Córdoba on a hilltop in a national park north of Venezuela. The day is Sunday, October 7, 2007 and it is the 297th episode of Aló, Presidente. Chávez is speaking about his plans to mediate in the conflict between the Colombian government and FARC (Aló, Presidente 297:â•›20). In the analysis of the discourse, Chávez takes full advantage of the conventions of the media broadcast. In a personal appeal to Uribe to ensure the safety of the emissary from FARC, Marulanda, in meeting with the Venezuelan President, he interacts directly with the camera (lines 1–8) as if Uribe were sure to be listening. Thus, the concrete elements in the situational context (e.g., the camera) enable the contextualization of a personal conversation before Chávez shifts back to his live wider audience (line 9) and guest (lines 12–13). In the linguistic context, Chávez indicates a mutual respect for Uribe as a fellow statesman by greeting him (‘Saludamos a Presidente Uribe’) and even referring to him as compadre. In line 5, he mentions Uribe’s introspection, maturity, and intelligence. He also quotes Simón Bolívar in a form of entextualization (lines 14–15) which he goes on to recontextualize (lines 15–16) by relating it to the upcoming negotiation. (5) 1 Chávez: So, it is necessary, Uribe, I’m telling you, we both need to agree. If 2 ╇ Marulanda wants to come to Caracas, Uribe, you put him on a plane, my 3 ╇ friend, and send him to me. Put him in a plane, send him to the border 4 ╇ with everything, with a little coffee and everything. You have to help us; 5 ╇ otherwise, I won’t be able to [negotiate] with FARC. Uribe, [I’m 6 ╇ appealing] to your introspection, your maturity, and your intelligence. 7 ╇ However, I know there are some factions [sic], over there in Colombia, 8 ╇ that want to dismantle these negotiations, but we can’t allow it. 9 ╇╇ I know that Uribe wants a humanitarian accord. He wants it; he told me 10 ╇ and I believe him. I know that FARC wants it, too; Marulanda has told me 11 ╇ the same [thing] in the letters that I’ve received. Well, I want to help and 12 ╇ now we have to help each other, isn’t that right Piedad, that we are finally 13 ╇ able to help the process to move forward? 14 ╇╇ Bolivar said: “Patience and more patience, constancy and more 15 ╇ constancy, work and more work.” In this case, to reach an agreement and 16 ╇ then peace, why not? […]

On Sunday, January 6, 2008, the situational context in (6) finds Chávez in a school dining hall where he is surrounded by two of his ministers, the Governor of the State of Miranda, the director of the school and some of the children. It is the

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299th episode of Aló, Presidente (Aló, Presidente 299:â•›15) and Chávez is recounting his New Year’s Eve in the presidential palace, Miraflores (lines 1–2). In the analysis of the discourse, Chávez presents a flashback (lines 2–4), ultimately using a previous situation to contextualize his talk. While it appears that he is still working as a mediator between Uribe’s government and FARC – he identifies statements issued by his own government (line 5), Uribe (lines 6–7), and FARC (lines 7–8) – the stance represented in the linguistic context is somewhat ambiguous as he suggests doubt toward Uribe in line 5 (“we hope what President Uribe said is true”) and FARC in line 7 (“its version of the facts”). Nonetheless, he emphasizes the most relevant piece of news, that a boy who had been held in captivity by FARC, Emmanuel, is now free (lines 9–11), regardless of the uncertainty of the circumstances. The entextualized signifier of his name emerges as particularly meaningful in the analysis of the conjuncture as the case of Emmanuel had become part of the public consciousness through media coverage, especially in Colombia. (6) 1 Chávez: […] For example, for the first time since I’m President, I received 2 ╇ the New Year in the Palace of Miraflores. We were paying close attention 3 ╇ at that moment to the frustrating [situation] of the liberation of Clara, 4 ╇ Consuelo, and Emmanuel, who was already freed. Our government has 5 ╇ broadcast a communiqué and that is our position, we’ve stated our 6 ╇ position, but like I said on the 31st, we hope what President Uribe said is 7 ╇ true and that Emmanuel isn’t in the jungle [any longer]. FARC has 8 ╇ broadcast a communiqué giving its version of the facts; beyond any 9 ╇ version, focus, or political diatribe; the most beautiful and important thing 10 ╇ is that Emmanuel is free; that’s the most important thing: Emmanuel is 11 ╇ free. […]

On the occasion of Sunday, January 13, 2008, and the broadcast of the 300th episode of Aló, Presidente, Chávez is joined by several guests. The situational context includes a farmer, the granddaughter of Emiliano Zapata (Mexican freedom fighter), and a former kidnap victim from Colombia. Prior to the segment in (7) (Aló, Presidente 300:â•›27), Chávez has been speaking of the negative influence of the United States and its president at the time, George W. Bush, on Colombia. It seems apparent that he is again assuming his role as mediator, and he positions himself as a peaceful participant by referring to the Geneva Conventions and protocols. The analysis of the discourse once again shows him utilizing the broadcast medium to create a private conversation space in the interactional context with Colombia’s president. He gives advice to Uribe (lines 1–3), allegedly entextualizingÂ�



Fighting words: Hybrid discourse and discourse processes

his own previous discourse with the former (Pastrana) and the then current (Uribe) Colombian heads of state by affirming that a military solution is not the answer to resolving the conflict with FARC (lines 3–5). The analysis of the conjuncture reveals references to the common history of Venezuela and Colombia (lines 8–10). Thus, the current history in the extrasituational context is juxtaposed with Spanish origins of New Granada (Nueva Granada) and Great Colombia (Gran Colombia) which emerged after Bolívar led the fight for liberation from the Spanish crown (Bushnell 2007), and are alluded to and contextualize an affinity (that should exist) between the two in the interactional context. (7) 1 Chávez: […] President Uribe, think like the statesman you are, like I told 2 ╇ Pastrana, it’s not a blackmail; no, Pastrana. I told Pastrana 100 times, 3 ╇ “Pastrana, there is no military solution.” I’ve told Uribe 100 times, too, 4 ╇ there is no military solution to that problem and if there is no military 5 ╇ solution, what other solution is left: the political way. That’s a political 6 ╇ problem; we’re going to [work together] and [negotiate] a way out of this 7 ╇ war, and for that, in a few years, hopefully, the drama that a large part of 8 ╇ Colombians and we, too, live will end. Because when we speak of 9 ╇ Colombia, we are speaking of a great country, a sister country, daughters 10 ╇ of the same father, the same mother. 11 ╇╇ My greetings to Colombia and I repeat from here, we love Colombia and 12 ╇ the Colombian people; it’s a love. […]

In the following episode (program number 301), the analysis of the practice locates Chávez in a factory on a dairy farm in the state of Zulia; he is together with some plant workers and the Minister of the Economy. It is January 20, 2008 and he has just finished reading a letter of thanks from December 21, 2007 for his Â�efforts at mediation; he claims that it is signed by various Colombian army officers and politicians who are still being held captive by FARC in the jungles of Colombia. Chávez entextualizes this text in his broadcast in order to position himself through the interactional context as being united with the Colombian people; in the discourse that follows in (8), he counters that alignment with his discussion of Uribe (Aló, Presidente 301:â•›72). Beginning in line 1, while Chávez has already identified himself as a respected negotiator, he suggests that Uribe ruined the rescue of two kidnap victims (line 2). He continues to shift the direction of his talk between the audience (e.g., lines 2–5) and Uribe himself (e.g., lines 5–6). He accuses Uribe of being a peon of George W. Bush (lines 5, 8, and 11) and engages in even more specific name-calling, starting in line 13 and culminating in the entextualized references to the cinematic mafia

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godfather, Don Vitto Corleone (line 15). Despite the negative diatribe, however, he reaffirms his love of Colombia (line 16) and recontextualizes his own unified position while lauding the union of Colombia and Venezuela (line 18). In the analysis of the conjuncture, it seems plausible that the juxtaposing of various elements can function in the extrasituational context to manipulate public opinion. For example, he posits his own “victory” represented by the praise in the letter from important and well-recognized figures in Colombia with Uribe’s apparent failure at a rescue attempt; he also continues making present references to uniting Colombia and Venezuela while glorifying the past when the two countries were indeed one. In the social struggle that exists between the two politicians for ideological dominance – Uribe representing conservatism and capitalism, Chávez representing revolution and socialism – if Chávez can depict Uribe as being weak, a follower, then he positions himself as being more powerful. “Language manipulates us into doing whatever the powerful in society tell us to do” (Mey 2001:â•›309); consequently, Chávez’ ability to garner more support depends on his appearance of power. (8) 1 Chávez: […] Well, Uribe… Do you see what he did on the 31st? Uribe 2 ╇ undermined the rescue of Clara and Consuelo. They didn’t want all those 3 ╇ people to be freed, and that’s what Uribe said to several presidents at the 4 ╇ time. […] Uribe dropped everything because Bush [forced] him to; Uribe 5 ╇ is Bush’s peon. Uribe, I think Bush will leave very soon. Who you are you 6 ╇ going to [turn to] then? 7 Audience: [laughs] 8 Chávez: Why do you continue working as a little imperial peon? What a sad 9 ╇ [excuse] for a Colombian president! […] 10 Audience: [laughs] 11 Chávez: Sad peon! Sad peon; a man like that doesn’t deserve to be president 12 ╇ at all, even less of a country. You don’t deserve a president of a country; 13 ╇ you don’t deserve it, you coward, liar, hypocrite, conniver. 14 ╇╇ Uribe is good to be a mafia boss, that’s what’s he’s good for. He would 15 ╇ be perfect for that. Vitto Corleone, Don Vitto Corleone […] 16 ╇╇ Greetings to Colombia! I love Colombia! Long live Colombia! 17 ╇╇ […] 18 Chávez: Long live Venezuela and the union of Colombia and Venezuela!

By episode 306 (9), the alignment of elements is just right for the Venezuelan leader to use his militarizing language to ignite the sparks of war. The situational context finds him with his Minister of Security, the governor of Miranda, and reporters from the state-run television station, VTV, in Plaza Caracas. It is March€2,



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2008, a day after the Colombian army had entered into its southern jungle and crossed the border of neighboring Ecuador to assassinate Raúl Reyes, the second in command of FARC. The analysis of the practice shows that Chávez has given a list of events which depict revolutionary efforts to gain independence, referencing everything from the decisive Battle of Ayacucho where Peruvian independence was won to Venezuela’s own independence from Gran Colombia (cf. Bushnell 2007) before making the plea “We have to liberate Colombia.” In the analysis of the discourse, Chávez starts making his case at the beginning of (9) (Aló, Presidente 306:â•›33–34) by referring to the Colombian incursion into Ecuador (lines 1–2). In the linguistic context, he makes a point of separating the government which he calls “the Colombian oligarchy” (la oligarquía colombiana) from “the people of Colombia” (el pueblo colombiano) (line 4–5) while negatively depicting the former (“impudence” in line 2; “mafiosa” in line 7; “treacherous, beastly” in line 9). He entextualizes a communiqué by inserting a portion of it into his discourse (lines 9–12 and 14–16) and comments on it by mocking the use of “sister” – an appellation that he has used himself in earlier programs when speaking of Colombia – and repeating the same idea to characterize the event (i.e., in Spanish, the word violar can mean ‘violate’ as in line 1 or ‘rape’ as in line 12). Next, as had been evidenced in earlier interactional contexts, he again shifts his focus to a directed, personal address, threatening to send fighter jets to attack Uribe and his government (lines 19 and 21). The analysis of the practice also reveals him echoing the entextualized use of “self-defense” (lines 16 and 23–24) with a reference to Israel’s similar claim for taking military action (lines 27–28). Taking events that are relatively recent and likely to be familiar to his audience€– Â�Israel had fought a war with neighboring Lebanon in 2006 and had again closed all access to Gaza in 2007 – the analysis of the conjuncture shows how Chávez can manipulate language and, in turn, ideology, by paralleling its incursions and Â�isolated position in the Middle East (lines 23–30) to the status of Colombia and its neighbors in Latin America (lines 30–32). Shifting his position in the interactional context once more, Chávez actively takes on his role of president in the hybrid discourse to perform a series of functions as commander-in-chief. Following the actions of his Ecuadorian counterpart (lines 34–35 and 37–38), he orders troops to the border (lines 41 and 44) and recalls his ambassador and staff from Colombia (lines 49 and 52–54) before the adulating crowd who, like a Greek chorus – again mixing the theatrical in this hybrid discourse – chants a slogan that has become the cry of Chávez’ followers (‘Alerta, alerta, alerta que camina; la espada de Bolívar por América Latina!’) (lines 58–59).

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(9) 1 Chávez: […] They invaded Ecuador. They flagrantly violated the holy 2 ╇ sovereignty of Ecuador. And even more they have the… the impudence. 3 ╇ Here I’ve been reading a communiqué from the Colombians, from the 4 ╇ Colombian oligarchy. I won’t say “the Colombians”, let’s be careful. Long 5 ╇ live the people of Colombia! Long live the people of Colombia! 6 Audience: [applause] Long live [Colombia]! 7 ╇ Chávez: Take a look at this communiqué sent by the mafiosa Colombian 8 ╇ oligarchy. They don’t show their face, no; they send papers and they strike 9 ╇ in a treacherous, beastly way. Take a look at what they say here: “The 10 ╇ Ministry of External Relations and the Ministry of National Defense will 11 ╇ respond today to a note of protest from the government of their sister 12 ╇ republic of Ecuador.” They call her “sister”; they are raping her and call 13 ╇ her “sister”. What [irony]; what [irony] from that oligarchy! I’ll keep 14 ╇ reading. Take a look at what comes [next]: “In the meantime, we 15 ╇ anticipate that Colombia didn’t violate sovereignty, but acted in accord 16 ╇ with the principle of legitimate [self-]defense.” This is something very 17 ╇ serious; this can be the beginning of a war in South America, because you 18 ╇ should know that if, for example, it occurs to you to do that in Venezuela, 19 ╇ I will send you some Sukhoi (jet fighters), my friend. 20 Audience: [applause] 21 Chávez: I will send you some Sukhoi [jet fighters], my friend. We are 22 ╇ absolutely not going to accept that Colombia converts these lands into 23 ╇ another Israel. Israel invades Lebanon, bombs it, kills “in legitimate [self]24 ╇ defense”, they say. Israel invades the Gaza strip – I’ve been seeing on the 25 ╇ news – every day. They bomb to assassinate a Palestinian leader, they 26 ╇ bomb a whole neighborhood and kill a hundred people, they don’t care 27 ╇ where [the bomb] falls, and Israel says that it is “in legitimate [self]28 ╇ defense”. It is the [raised] fist of the empire against the Arab world, to 29 ╇ impede the unity of the Arab world, to fragment that world, to fill it with 30 ╇ war, with misery. Uribe, we are not going to allow you to recreate another 31 ╇ Israel here in South America, you know? No matter what, Uribe, we’re not 32 ╇ going to allow it! 33 Audience: [applause] 34 Chávez: We are not going to allow it. President Correa informed me a few 35 ╇ minutes ago that he is recalling his ambassador from Bogotá today. 36 Audience: [applause] 37 Chávez: He is recalling his ambassador from Bogotá today, and he is moving 38 ╇ troops toward the north. I told him, “Correa, you can count on Venezuela 39 ╇ for whatever, under any circumstance.” 40 Audience: [applause]



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41 Chávez: Mr. Defense Minister, move ten batallions to the border with 42 ╇ Colombia, immediately. 43 Audience: [applause] 44 ╇ Chávez: Tank batallions. Deploy the airforce. We don’t want war, but we are 45 ╇ not going to allow the North American empire, who is the master, and its 46 ╇ [lapdog] President Uribe and the Colombian oligarchy, to come divide us, 47 ╇ to come weaken us. We are not going to allow it. 48 Audience: [applause] 49 Chávez: I order the immediate return of all our personnel at the embassy in 50 ╇ Bogotá. 51 Audience: [applause] 52 Chávez: Close our embassy in Bogotá. Mr. Chancelor, Nicolás Maduro, 53 ╇ close the embassy in Bogotá for me and recall all our officials who are 54 ╇ there. 55 Audience: [applause] 56 Chávez: And we are on alert, on alert. I am putting Venezuela on alert and 57 ╇ we support Ecuador under any circumstance. 58 Audience: Be alert! Be alert! Be alert! The sword of Bolivar marches through 59 ╇ Latin America!

Chávez uses the mixed discourse format of his weekly broadcast to produce militarizing language through the employment of certain elements to contextualize a scenario where there is a perceived threat and the juxtaposition of entextualized language to create a pretext for going to war. For the moment, he can use the power derived from his manipulation of language processes to wield more influence with his listening public and, possibly, public opinion in general. In fact, however, while media sources around the world reported on the “crisis” in Latin America (BBC 2008; Carroll and Brodzinsky 2008), Uribe never bothered to send troops to the Colombian side of the border nor recall any of the Colombian staff from the embassies in Venezuela or Ecuador and the whole “misunderstanding” appeared to be resolved less than a week later when Uribe embraced Chávez at a previously planned meeting of several Latin American leaders in the Dominican Republic on March 7. The Multilayered Model of Context, however, reveals that militarizing language is not necessarily a singular event, but one that is built up over time. Therefore, while an episodic analysis may have sufficient power to index the use of Â�entextualized language and the manner in which it is recontextualized, the strength of a progressive analysis demonstrates how the language and context merge over time to contextualize the call for war.

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5.

Conclusion

Chávez’ use of what has been termed a hybrid discourse indicates what may be a global institutional context. Given the power of the interviewer to control the direction of the talk and the tendency of politicos in an interview situation to co-opt the direction of talk (Berlin 2007, 2008; Harris 1991), the hybrid may well be a fertile ground for the engagement of militarizing language. The nature of this particular type of discourse and the resultant language under examination requires that analysts consider that they are not looking at a straightforward order of discourse, but do, in fact, need to consider the processes of entextualization and contextualization working in tandem with multiple levels of context and across several iterations (i.e., within a contained time period, but not necessarily identifiable when reduced to a single iteration) to justify and thereby produce a call to action. Replete with entextualized historical references – diachronic and synchronic€– that resonate with interdiscursivity and intertextuality in the levels of the linguistic and interactional contexts, Chávez’ “militarizing language” represents a “structured sequence of actions of which it is composed” (Fairclough 1992:â•›126). That is, the entextualized bits of language have become decontextualized from their original formulations and recontextualized into a new and unique use. That use, in turn, serves to contextualize and position the participants involved in the activity. As such, militarizing language, enacted within the interactional context, creates a situational context – in this case, the sending of troops to the border for “protection” and possible invasion – which can extend into the extrasituational context as it becomes part of the sociocultural reality and sociopolitical history of the involved. Within a critical discourse analysis, hybrid discourses can be seen to operate as a form of language manipulation attempting to manipulate ideology where language can have the power to create external reality. Use of the MMC enables a fuller analysis of the various dimensions, one that also situates it in time and place, both synchronically and diachronically, in order to render a description and a possible explanation which reveal the nature of the manipulation employed.

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Goodwin, Charles and Duranti, Alessandro. 1992. Rethinking context: An introduction. In Rethinking context: Language as an interactive phenomenon, Alessandro Duranti and Charles Goodwin (eds), 1–42. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Graham, Phil and Allan Luke. 2005. Militarising the Body Politic: New Mediations as Weapons of Mass Destruction. Journal of Language and Politics 4 (1): 11–39. Halliday, Michael A. K. 1978. Language as Social Semiotic: The Social Interpretation of Language and Meaning. London: Edward Arnold. Halliday, Michael A. K. 1984. Language as code and language as behaviour: A systemic-functional interpretation of the nature and ontogenesis of dialogue. In The Semiotics of Culture and Language: Language as Social Semiotic (vol. 1), Robin P. Fawcett, Michael A. K. Halliday, Sydney M. Lamb, and Adam Makkai (eds), 3–35. London and Wolfeboro, NH: Frances Pinter. Halliday, Michael A. K. 2002a. On Grammar: Volume 1 in the Collected Works of M. A. K. HallidayÂ�. Jonathan J. Webster (ed). London: Continuum. Halliday, Michael A. K. 2002b. Linguistic Studies of Text and Discourse: Volume 2 in the Collected Works of M. A. K. Halliday. Jonathan J. Webster (ed). London: Continuum. Harris, Sandra. 1991. Evasive action: How politicians respond to questions in political interviews. In Broadcast Talk, Paddy Scannell (ed), 76–99. London: Sage Publications, Ltd. Heritage, John and Greatbatch, David. 1991. On the institutional character of institutional talk: The case of news interviews. In Talk and Social Structure: Studies in Ethnomethodology and Conversation Analysis, Deirdre Boden and Don H. Zimmerman (eds), 93–137. Berkeley, CA: University of California Press. Hymes, Dell. 1972. Models of interaction of language and social life. In Directions in Sociolinguistics: The Ethnography of Communication, John J. Gumperz and Dell Hymes (eds), 35–71. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston. Levinson, Stephen. 1983. Pragmatics. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Malinowski, Bronislaw. 1923. The problem of meaning in primitive languages. In The Meaning of Meaning, C. K. Ogden and I. A. Richards (eds), 296–336. New York: Harcourt, Brace and World, Inc. Mey, Jacob L. 2001. Pragmatics (2nd ed.). Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishing. Nye, Joseph S. 2004. Soft Power: The Means to Success in World Politics. New York: Public Affairs. Park, Joseph Sung-Yul and Bucholtz, Mary. 2009. Introduction: Public transcripts: Entextualization and linguistic representation in institutional contexts. Text & Talk 29 (5): 485–502. PIPA, 4 June 2003. Pipa – What’s New. American attitudes: Program on International Policy Attitudes. Program on International Policy Attitudes. Web. 21 Aug. 2010. . Rudd, Philip W. 2004. Weapons of Mass Destruction: The Unshared Referents of Bush’s Rhetoric. Pragmatics 14 (4): 499–525. Sage, Alexandria. 16 Sept. 2009. Dan Brown novel breaks one-day sales records. Business & Financial News, Breaking US & International News | Reuters.com. Thomson Reuters. Web. 21 Aug. 2010. . Sbisà, Marina. 2002. Speech acts in context. Language in Communication 22: 421–436. Searle, John R. 1969. Speech Acts. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Shiro, Martha and Núñez, Nancy. 2007. El discurso politico venezolano: ¿Confiable? ¿creíble? In El Análisis del Diálogo: Reflexiones y Estudios, Adriana Bolívar and Frances D. de Erlich (eds), 235–257. Caracas: Fondo Editorial de Humanidades y Educación. Spradley, James P. 1980. Participant Observation. New York: Holt, Rinehart and Winston.



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Stetzer, Ed. 1 May 2006. Americans’ Polled on Their Views about The Davinci Code. North American Mission Board-NAMB.net. North American Mission Board, SBC. Web. 21 Aug. 2010. . Urban, Greg. 1991. A Discourse-centered Approach to Culture: Native South American Myths and Rituals. Austin: University of Texas Press. van Dijk, Teun. 2005. War Rhetoric of a Little Ally: Political Implicatures and Aznar’s Legitimatization of the War in Iraq. Journal of Language and Politics 4 (1): 65–91. Widdowson, Henry G. 2004. Text, Context, Pretext: Critical Issues in Discourse Analysis. Malden, MA: Blackwell Publishing. Wilkes, David. 24 Aug. 2006. Da Vinci code fans wreck church window in Holy Grail hunt. Home | Mail Online. Associated Newspapers Ltd. Web. 21 Aug. 2010. . Wittgenstein, Ludwig. 1958. Philosophical investigations, 2nd ed. Oxford: Blackwell.

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Context and talk in€confrontational€discourses Luisa Granato and Alejandro Parini This paper presents a study of the way in which context and language in an institutional setting are mutually affected in the development of confrontational interaction. We hypothesise that when the canonical institutional context in terms of tenor and mode is altered, the encounter may depart from its prototypical form and even become unsustainable in the environment in which it is taking place. Our analysis identifies the factors that are responsible for disruptions in the flow of discourse and the different consequences that these may bring about in two media interviews. It shows that the smooth development of this type of discourse depends on three factors: (a) how well the participants comply with the roles dictated by the institution, (b) how they exercise power in relation to their roles, and (c) whether they observe the expected interactional behavior and content in a discourse of this kind.

1.

Introduction

The news interview has come to play a prominent role in contemporary broadcast journalism and political communication and, as Clayman and Heritage (2002:â•›1) claim, “it seems to have replaced the news story and has become a frequently used genre in its own right”. This prominence has made the news interview the object of many social scientific studies. Socially ratified media interviews are expected to develop in a smooth and orderly fashion in which interviewers are supposed to elicit information from the interviewee for the benefit of an audience. In this process the question-answer format and the institutionalised roles of the participants are usually respected throughout the unfolding of the encounter. This standard practice may contrast with interactions which breach the pre-established norm as regards the functional activities performed and the identities projected by the interactants, and this breach of the norm may give rise to aggressive and conflictual discourses.

68 Luisa Granato and Alejandro Parini

This paper deals with the relationship between language and context in confrontational discourses and the aim is to identify some of the contextual features that characterise this type of encounter. We examine some aspects of the interactional behaviour and the roles enacted by the participants in confrontational political media interviews broadcast on television and radio programmes, with a view to showing how a deviation from prototypical aspects of the mode and tenor, as variables of the situational context of the media interviews, may lead to the distortion of the genre.

2.

Perspectives on context

The study of context has been approached from different theoretical perspectives. Hanks (1994) looks at the interpretation of a communicative event as being dependent on two elements: focal event and context, and the relation between them as being one of figure and ground. The complex phenomenon of focal event, which includes verbal and non-verbal behaviour, can provide enough ground for the creation of context, and context offers resources that are crucial for the interpretation of the focal event (Duranti and Goodwin 1994).The production of talk as a focal event is regarded as doubly contextual since an utterance is based on the context of the previous utterance and at the same time it provides context for the next utterance (Heritage 1984). Fetzer (2007) refers to the complexity of the notion of context and to some of the different perspectives from which it has been analysed. First, within a psychological and psycholinguistic perspective and in cognitive pragmatics as well, context is thought of as a frame that delimits content and is itself constrained by major frames. The author mentions studies from the fields of ethnomethodolgy, interactional sociolinguistics and sociopragmatics which consider context as dynamic and not static, and goes on to suggest that “context is seen as a dynamic construct that is interactionally organised in and through the process of communication” (Fetzer 2007:â•›4). In this view, context is regarded as both process and product, and as “a relational construct” which establishes complex relations between communicative actions, individual participants and individual surroundings. Finally, from a pressupositional approach, Fetzer draws on Stalnaker’s work (Stalnaker 1999) in which context is equated to common ground or background information, and as such, is given or taken for granted in interaction. Fetzer describes context as external to the utterance – a static conception – and as internal to the utterance – interactive conception – in which it is “invoked and reconstructed” (Fetzer 2007:â•›5).



Context and talk in confrontational discourses

Within the research paradigm of sociopragmatics, Fetzer (2007) conceptualises context in terms of a parts-whole relation and, therefore, acknowledges the existence, within context, of linguistic context – immediate and remote – (linguistic material or co-text), social context (the parts that constitute a speech event), sociocultural context (culture-specific interpretations of the social context) and cognitive context (mental representations or assumptions stored in the minds of speakers). These sub-categorisations of context are considered at both a micro/ local level and a macro/global level, and are also regarded as being of either the generalised type or the particularised type. Another contribution to the study of context comes from the field of ethnographic inquiry in close relation to performance-oriented analysis. In this domain, the notions of contextualisation, decontextualisation and entextualisation become crucial tenets of the theoretical approaches to the work on context and social interaction. In their work on Poetics and Performance as Perspectives on Language and Social Life Bauman and Briggs (1990) look at the shift in focus from context to contextualisation, that is, from the analysis of text to the analysis of texts as they emerge in context. They argue that text and context and the distinction between them are being drastically redefined showing a change of focus from product to process and from conventional structure to agency. This move bears relation to the processes of entextualisation and contextualization. In this perspective context is not predetermined and independent of performance but is rather shaped in the constant negotiation between participants in situated interactions. It is in these negotiations that the relevant features of context emerge. As Bauman and Briggs posit this shift….represents a major step towards achieving an agent-centred view of performance. Contextualisation involves an active process of negotiation in which participants reflexibly examine the discourse as it is emerging, embedding assessment of its structure and significance in speech itself. Performers extend such assessment to include predictions about how the communicative competence, personal histories and social identities of their interlocutors will shape the reception of what is said.  (Bauman and Briggs 1990:â•›69)

This perspective centres the attention not only on the performer but also on the active role of the hearer. Following this line of reasoning, Fetzer (2007) brings into the discussion on context the notion of contextualisation cues (Gumperz 2003) as expressions without lexical meaning and whose interpretations depend on the context and emerge in the negotiation of meaning in interaction. We regard this notion of contextualisation as a tool that helps realise the significance of interactive discourse.

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Bearing in mind the distinction between discourse and context, Bauman and Briggs (1990) discuss entextualisation as a process through which discourse can be decontextualised from the interactional setting in which it is produced and transformed into a text. Further work on context has been carried out taking into account a sociocognitive theoretical framework (van Dijk 2009). Before developing his theory of context, van Dijk delimits the idea of context by considering it in terms of those social properties of the communicative situation that are relevant to discourse production and comprehension. He states that these properties do not exert direct influence on discourse because they “are not directly involved in the cognitive processes of discourse production and understanding” (van Dijk 2009:â•›4). For van Dijk social influence of the context is always filtered through personal or individual cognitive features of participants in interaction. Hence, in his view, contexts are subjective, that is that individuals subjectively define a situation. His contention is that “a context is what is defined to be relevant in the social situation by the participants themselves” (van Dijk 2009:â•›4). In this model, situations are defined as mental representations that constitute the link between the social situation and the production and comprehension of discourse. Contexts can thus be conceptualised as mental models in the sense that they subjectively represent personal experience and embody sociocultural knowledge about the participants and their social world. So for Van Dijk contexts are mental models since they represent the experience of communicative episodes and also embody sociocultural knowledge. These mental models are referred to as context models or contexts and include schemas which are flexible and simple enough so as to respond to the needs of every communicative situation in our daily life. These representations of communicative experiences are dynamic since they are sensitive to the previous linguistic environment as well as to the changes experienced in all social situations. In sum, context models are the channels through which the situation influences talk and text, and talk and text influence the situation. Contrary to this view of context, which puts a premium on cognition and the mental representations of context, Systemic Functional Linguistics (SFL) approaches this notion from a social perspective. Based on the Hallidayian ideas on language in relation to the social world, this model establishes a relationship of realisation between the three strata of context of culture, context of situation and text in context. Here, the context of culture is treated as being separate from the context of situation. Genres represent the context of culture which bears on the language used by means of the structures that the culture institutionalises as a way to fulfil social aims. Register, on the other hand, refers to the context of situation and constitutes a theory with its three variables of field, tenor and mode, as shown in Figure 1.



Context and talk in confrontational discourses

Context

Language

Genre

Text

Theory of register Field Tenor Mode

Metafunctions Ideational Interpersonal Textual

Figure 1.╇ Context in the SFL model

In Halliday’s terms these variables are defined as follows Field refers to what is happening, to the nature of the social action that is taking place, what it is that participants are engaged in, in which language figures as some essential component.  (Halliday and Hassan 1985:â•›12, in Martin and Rose 2003:â•›297)

According to Martin and Rose, field encompasses sequences of activities that pursue a social or institutional goal and that include “people, things, processes, places and qualities” (Martin and Rose 2008:â•›14), giving rise to different and varying patterns of texts. Tenor refers to who is taking part, to the nature of the participants, their statuses and roles: what kinds of role relationships they obtain, including permanent and temporary relationships of one kind or another, both the types of speech roles they are taking on in the dialogue and the whole cluster of socially significant relationships in which they are involved.  (Halliday and Hassan 1985:â•›12, in Martin and Rose 2003:â•›297)

And these role relationships can be seen as a complex of the four simultaneous dimensions of power, contact, affective involvement and orientation to affiliation (Eggins and Slade 1997). Mode refers to what part language is playing, what it is that the participants are expecting language to do for them in the situation: the symbolic organization of the text, the status that it has and its function in the context.  (Halliday and Hassan 1985:â•›12 in Martin and Rose 2003:â•›297)

These dimensions of register are closely linked to the ideational, interpersonal and textual metafunctions of language, which are in turn realized through the lexico-grammatical system of the language and which construe experience, enact relationships and organise discourse respectively. Despite the fact that the model has received substantial criticism from scholars like Widdowson (2004) and van Dijk (2009), we find the Systemic Functional theoretical construct a useful organising principle to be used as a first approach to

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the study of context since it treats interactional behaviour – mode – and the roles taken and the identities projected by the interactants – tenor- as two separate theoretical dimensions. Nevertheless, we acknowledge the invaluable contributions of the cognitive and sociopragmatic approaches and so believe that for a complete account of the complexities of context, elements from these two theoretical domains should be taken into account to complement the analysis. For reasons of space this work is limited to the analysis of the dimensions of tenor and mode within the theory of Register as described in the SFL paradigm.

3.

The media interview

In this section our attention centres on the media interview as a type of face-toface communicative event. We take up issues specific to its prototypical features and development, attending to the structuring of live and mediated talk in political interviews. Charaudeau describes the interview as: one of the dialogic situations which constitutes a form of linguistic interaction in which participants are physically present or partially present as is the case of telephone interviews, and they alternate their contributions.  (Charaudeau 1997:â•›228)

Within this structure participants have roles that form part of the media interview: the role of the interviewer legitimated as the questioner and the role of the interviewee as the participant with reasons to be interviewed. This interaction is motivated by and addressed to an audience in absentia who may hear or listen to what is going on in the television or radio studio. This gives rise to a form of mediated communication with spatial and often temporal disjunctions that creates a distance between addresser (active participants) and addressee (audience). The matter of distance between addresser and addressee determines the relationship between the two as participation in the communication does not take place on an equal basis. Talbot, Atkinson and Atkinson (2003) explain that in terms of consumption or reception, participation takes place on the audience’s terms and so the audience is in control. But as regards output, the media are in the hands of professional journalists who represent institutional control and who are expected to be objective and disinterested and to challenge their sources at the same time. Notwithstanding this asymmetrical relationship between addresser and addressee, the news interview is a kind of institutional talk and so cannot be regarded as a mere vehicle of communication but rather as a form of interpersonal communication (Greatbatch 1988; Heritage and Greatbatch 1991).



Context and talk in confrontational discourses

So unlike in other types of media communication, in the media interview the addresser is composed of an interviewer and a guest who engage in interaction without having scripted or pre-planned their discourses before the encounter. Clayman and Heritage (2002) express that although interviewers and interviewees may each have their own preconceived agenda in mind at the starting point of the interview, each participant’s capacity to realise his or her agenda is greatly determined by the conduct of the other participant. This argument in favour of the news interview as a jointly-constructed enterprise is what partly makes the news interview a type of speech exchange that differs from others with a more or less predetermined format (Sacks, Schegloff, and Jefferson 1974). As Clayman and Heritage (2002:â•›22) argue, this type of exchange is distinctly straightforward in how interactants organise their participation with the interviewer asking questions and the interviewee answering them. However, the authors admit that this question-answer format is far from simple or straightforward when one considers what participants to an interview actually do. Because news interviews do not happen in a vacuum, they are better understood as embedded in society and so constitute an organised social institution that stands in relation to other societal organisations such as journalism and politics. The political media interview is an instantiation of the link between journalism and politics and provides a stage on which political discourses can be articulated. Since journalists and their political guests come to the interview to engage in debate rather than to disclose personal problems, political interviews often lead to confrontational exchanges. In typical interviews, both parties contribute to the smooth development of the discourse. Argumentative fragments or whole encounters of this type are handled with consideration and respect for the other’s opinion so that a good atmosphere is created and the principles of reasonable and civilised talk are respected throughout. Interactants keep the roles and the line they adopt at the beginning of the encounter, since breaking this norm or falling out of line may put the face of the interactants at risk, render the discourse inappropriate and cause the loss of control of the interview, especially on the part of the interviewer. When this undesired behaviour occurs, participants usually make efforts to dissipate or downplay conflict and to signal that the institutional lines adopted at the beginning are still in play. However, dispute sequences may stretch over longer periods of time or even used to construct a whole interview, in which case, disagreements can be presented in “aggravated” (Goodwin 1983 in Hutchby 1996:â•›24) opposition terms. This is observed mostly when an opinionated journalist with a very direct personal style conducts the interview. Building this type of interactions seems to depend on a very delicate balance of the power brought into play by the interactants in the turn by turn development of the discourse, and also of the power institutional or

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political positions endow people with. In the texts under analysis assumed to represent asymmetrical forms of interaction, the two participants, conscious of their institutional identities, may produce rather symmetrical encounters in which it is difficult to decide which of the two exercises more power. There seems to be agreement across languages on the salient characteristics of confrontational talk in the media which show several differences with nonconfrontational discourse. These differences are related to the use of grammar and discourse resources which help produce the desired effects in each particular case. It is worth noticing that one cannot deny the difficulty of drawing clear lines between the two types of discourse. Placing the two extremes at the end of a continuum would offer better possibilities for a more accurate analysis.

4.

Overview and data

The focus of attention of this analysis will be placed on some aspects of mode and tenor as the variables of register (context of situation) which can be associated with the production of confrontational discourse. The interactions under analysis can be seen to depart from prototypical media interviews since one of the outstanding features is the general confrontational overtones which can be perceived throughout the development of the encounters. So the question we asked ourselves was how these deviations are related to the three dimensions of register€– field, tenor and mode – and the corresponding metafunctions of language€– ideational, interpersonal and textual. Two corpora of media interviews broadcast live on different radio and TV programmes in Argentina were used as the source for this empirical work. One is made up of seventy telephone radio interviews (Granato 1999) and the other was collected from several TV political talk-shows comprising twenty-five face-toface interviews (Andreau 2008; Móccero 2005). One text from each of these two corpora was chosen for the purpose of illustrating the characteristics found in the confrontational fragments. The first one is a telephone radio interview between Miguel Clariá, a journalist, and Vani, the leader of a non-legitimised political group of his own making. The interview revolves round a situation whereby the Town Hall staff went on strike and this group self-called “The Vani Brigades” decided to storm the building. The second is a television interview conducted in a TV studio between former president of Argentina, Antonio De La Rúa, and two interviewers, Marcelo Bonelli and Gustavo Silvestre. Mr De la Rúa’s period in office was characterised by his abrupt downfall due to accusations of corruption that included the bribing of senators to pass a labour law in Congress. The three participating interviewers



Context and talk in confrontational discourses

are considered to be opinionated journalists who are well known for their direct and combative questioning style. We are going to refer to certain characteristics which were found to be salient in the verbal encounters analysed, and which can be linked to the relationship between language and context. Since this type of discourse is organised by means of the participants’ alternating contributions to the interactions, the analysis will look at context at a micro level and will pay attention to the consequences of the participants’ successive conversational actions in the unfolding of the talk. The study of the confrontational fragments was carried out by means of a qualitative analysis and through the use of observation, description and interpretation techniques. We first identified the features which departed from those found in non-confrontational interviews and then analysed the way in which they affected register.

5.

Interactional behaviour of the participants

The interview is a type of discourse that is organised interactionally rather than thematically, that is to say, that themes are expressed, but the turn-by-turn construction also impinges on the unfolding of the interactional game being played by both interviewer and interviewee by means of a rather predictable question-answer format (Clayman and Heritage 2002). This format consists of a turn-taking system in which contributions from the interviewee come in when a question seems to complete a unit, that is, at a transition relevance place (TRP), (Levinson 2008). This interactional aspect constitutes a part of the metafunction of mode as described by Systemic Functional linguists (Halliday 1985; Eggins and Slade 1997). In the process of negotiating their ideational world and the place they occupy in it, participants also negotiate ways of entextualising their discourse to represent their social reality (Eggins and Slade 1997). The entextualisation of confrontational talk often results from disregard for the canonical format as noted by several conversation analysts (Drew and Heritage 1992; Schegloff 1988/89, 1992; Clayman and Heritage 2002; Boden and Zimmerman 1993), and as can be seen in the following extract: 29 30 31 32 33

(1) D: B: D: B: D:

(Bonelli y Silvestre – De la Rúa) … la prueba, no resultó [ xxxx nada y ] [Pero la sensación, la sensación fue que] y esto se fue. Déjeme, déjeme terminar] [xxxx cerrar la causa y pasar a otro tema] Déjeme terminar

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34 B: No para investigar. 35 D: Déjeme terminar y déjese de suspicacias porque xxx 29 30 31 32 33 34 35

D: B: D: B: D: B: D:

… the evidence, didn’t work out [xxx well and ] [But the feeling, the feeling was that] [and this blew over. Let me, Let me finish] [close the case and move on to something else] Let me finish. so as not to investigate. Let me finish and stop making unpleasant insinuations.

Here the guest tries to complete his answer to the last question posed by saying …the evidence didn’t work out well…and and this blew over… Let me finish. Let me finish. Let me finish and stop making unpleasant insinuations (lines 29, 31, 33 and 35) without succeeding in drawing his interlocutor’s attention who simultaneously (in lines 30, 32 and 34) develops the idea that the judicial case the interviewee was referring to was manipulated to avoid an investigation. His contribution to that effect being but the feeling, the feeling was that…close the case and move on to something else so as not to investigate. This interactional behaviour gives rise to two either overlapping or alternating parallel monologic discourses in which each participant follows his own line of thought ignoring the speech of his interlocutor. The question-answer structure is thus ignored and what might have been an exchange of opinions turned out to be a succession of contributions of a non-reciprocal nature. These monologic fragments are often caused by the build-up of tension and personal involvement in the interaction where disregard for the interactional conventions of this type of communicative event added to other characteristics like the production of challenges, ill-founded insinuations and accusations and animosity, give rise to confrontation. As Schegloff (1988/89) observes in his analysis of the often cited Bush-Rather encounter, the departure from the prototypical turn-taking system of media interviews and the occurrence of constant competitive overlaps contribute to the transformation of the interview into a confrontation. The following extract further illustrates this phenomenon. (2) 68 B: 69 70 D: 71 B: 72 D: 73 B: 74 D:

(Bonelli y Silvestre – De la Rúa) Se cae el país institucionalmente y ¿qué? ¿Es mentira? ¿Cómo puede ser? Por el fuerte estado de sospecha creado y a partir de [la sospecha] [Momento, momento] [la sospecha] que está creada por, por indicios por todo lo que se publica…



68 B: 69 70 D: 71 B: 72 D: 73 B: 74 D:

Context and talk in confrontational discourses

The country collapses institutionaly and what? Is this a lie? How can this be? due to the strong suspicion that has been aroused and coming from [the suspicion] [Just a moment, just a moment] [the suspicion] that is created by, by hints. By all that is published

Again, in this short fragment, the interviewer seems to ignore the expected questioning stance by imposing himself (line 71) and finally completing his interlocutor’s contribution with calculated insinuation manifested in the use of the expression by hints (line 73) which, in relation to the previous discourse, clearly refers to hints arising from the behaviour of the president and of his own political entourage. Finally, the interviewee manages to recover the floor and to finish his utterance counter-attacking the journalist by attributing the suspicion to what is published by the media. This clearly shows how personal agency and involvement can often interfere with the smooth running of the interview thus creating confrontation. Furthermore, aggressiveness and hostility break the norm and clearly damage the interviewee’s face who is accused of suspicious political behaviour and of interfering with the course of justice. Watts makes a point of this in his work on politeness, when he argues that …both parties (to an interview) are expected to contribute to the smooth development of the discourse, that is not to break what is understood as politic behavior in a particular verbal encounter. Breaking the norm may damage the face of the interactant.  (Watts 2003:â•›131)

The author (2003:â•›19) defines politic behaviour as “that linguistic behaviour which is perceived to be appropriate to the social constraints of the ongoing interaction, i.e. non-salient….”. The smooth development of the interaction in the examples above can be seen to have been altered not only by the strong accusations against the interviewee but also by a clear disrespect for the canonical turn-taking structure of the media interview. Here the use of language has influenced the register of the interactions, affecting the dimension of mode in the texts. The Claria–Vani interview is an extreme case of deviation from the basic turntaking format of this genre. Of the forty-one contributions by the interviewer only two at the very beginning of the encounter fulfil an elicitation function. Since the first question in line 3, What are the Vani brigades? is not followed by a satisfactory answer, the interviewer feels the need to be more explicit by producing a second elicitation erm..as an organisation, what are you? Are you a political group…of…of political action? A clash political group? What kind of political group? (lines 8–9).

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The other three turns in which the interviewer makes use of interrogative structures cannot be interpreted as elicitations of information in the context. When he says at different moments in the interview: What’s your connection with the Town Hall? (line 18), …you decide that you occupy that space. On whose behalf?, What’s your authority? (lines 60–61), Who chose you to go to the Town Hall to tell the staff whether they should go on strike or not? (lines 98–99), he, as well as the audience, knows that Vani has no connection with the Town Hall whatsoever, that his actions are not backed up by any legitimate authority and that he has no right to exercise power over the Town Hall staff. These are discourse acts which fulfil the function of condemning illegitimate and outrageous behaviour despite their typical question structure. The use of hostile prefaces to questions loaded against the position of the interviewee is also regarded as a sanctionable course of action, as Extract (3) below shows. (3) (Clariá–Vani)

60 V: … nacional y provincial 61 MC: O sea. Usted decide. Usted decide que los diputados, los concejales no funcionan y Usted decide que Usted ocupa ese lugar ¿En nombre de … 62 63 V: [No, no, no] 64 MC: … ¿Quién y con qué derecho? 65 V: No, no, no. El derecho que le otorga el espacio vacío otorgado por otro. 60 V: … national and provincial. 61 MC: That is, YOU decide, YOU decide that the deputies, council members don’t do 62 their job properly and You decide that You occupy that space. On behalf …? 63 V: [No, no, no] 64 MC: [of whom and what right have you got to do that? 65 V: [No, no, no] The right that the empty space others leave gives you.

The preface in lines 61 and 62 to the question asked in lines 63 and 65 constitutes a very hostile statement emphasised by the repetition of the phrase YOU decide and by the strong prominence placed on all the occurrences of the second-person pronoun you. A prefatory statement of this kind can also be seen in the following extract from the interview with former President De la Rúa. (428–430, 432–433) (4) (Bonelli y Silvestre – De la Rúa) 428 B: o sea, tuvo un gran consenso…eh por lo que ustedes decían en la campaña electoral 429 apuntaban a un cambio, sobre todo en la política socioeconómica. 430 D: Sí. 431 B: Sin embargo, usted profundizó la política…o sea ustedes decían “recibimos un



Context and talk in confrontational discourses

432 desastre” pero profundizó esa política; no hizo ningún cambio ¿no cree que ese fue su 433 principal error? 428 B: so, you had great support. erm according to what you said in your election campaign you 429 were aiming at a change especially in matters of socioeconomic policy. 430 D: Yes. 431 B: However, you made this policy more extreme…I mean, you said “we inherited a 432 disastrous situation” but you made that policy more extreme, you didn’t make any changes. 433 Don’t you think that was your most serious mistake?

The question in line 433 is preceded by strong criticism to De la Rúa’s administration which represents a vicious attack on his image. This criticism is conveyed by means of a preliminary aimed at pillorying the President’s lack of action to fulfill his election pledge. In both extracts above, these instantiations of confrontational prefaces contribute to the reification of an encounter which departs from its canonical format and they have, as Schegloff (1992), and Clayman and Heritage (2002) sustain, significant consequences for the interview’s trajectory and context. Another resource observed throughout the interviews is the use of interruptions with the aim of exercising self-defence when participants feel they are being attacked. This becomes an outstanding feature of the encounters in the sample of texts analysed. In the interview with former President De la Rúa, both the preliminaries to the questions posed and the questions themselves picture the President’s actions in power as inadecuate, wrong and unlawful. This triggers constant interruptions on the part of De la Rúa who tries either to justify his actions or deny the interviewers’ statements and insinuations. Similarly, in the extract below from the Clariá–Vani interview, interruptions also emerge as self-defence strategies. (5) (Clariá–Vani) 100 MC: …han sido..elegidos para cumplir ese rol ¿quién lo eligió a usted para ir a la 101 municipalidad a decirle a los empleados si deben o no [hacer paro?] 102 V: [bueno yo] le preguntaría a usted quién es el que le ha elegido como comunicador 103 social. 104 MC: [A mi me ha] 105 V: [los espa] los espacios vacíos se cubren… 106 MC: no, no. [pero yo no] 107 V: [por los] espacios [vacíos] 108 MC: [Oiga] perdóneme. Yo no yo no vine con una brigada a LV3 para instalarme acá.

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109 V: No. Usted vino con Mario Pereyra y [xxx] 110 MC: Claro.[yo he sido contratado] 111 V: [xxx] producto de un… ¿quiere que le cuente como llegaron a LV3? 100 MC: have been elected to play that role. Who chose you to go to the Town Hall and tell 101 the staff whether they should or should not [go on strike] 102 V: [well I] would ask you who has chosen you as a social communicator. 103 MC: [I have been] 104 V: [sp] spaces are filled. 105 MC: No, no [but I didn’t] 106 V: [but the] empty [spaces] 107 MC: [Listen] Excuse me. I didn’t come to LV3 with a brigade to settle down here. 108 V: No. You came with Mario Pereyra, [xxx] 109 MC: Sure. [I have been hired] 110 V: …[xxx] as a result of a… do you want me to tell you how you joined LV3 TV station?

However, in this case these interruptions are not only produced by the interviewee but also by the interviewer who fights for the floor and needs to defend himself from offensive and out-of-place remarks made by his interlocutor (line 107). In fact, after the journalist overtly expresses his disapproval of Vani’s actions at the Town Hall, Vani, as a form of retaliation in line 102, makes an attempt to accuse the journalist of also holding an illegitimate position at the radio station for which he works. This leads to reiterated interruptions on the part of Clariá who tries to mark the difference between his professional activities in the radio and Vani’s storming of the Town Hall. These fragments illustrate how participants in media interviews can depart from the dimension of mode typical of this type of encounter and how this distortion contributes to the construction of confrontational sequences which may even produce a change of genre. Nevertheless, the most significant contextual alterations in the interviews are found at the level of tenor and this will be dealt with in the next section.

6.

Socially significant relationships in the interviews

As in any instance of institutional talk, there are certain expectations in relation to the activities and roles of the interactants. In media interviews information and opinions are exchanged through the questions and answers of the participants who interact for an audience. This interaction involves cooperative behaviour between interviewer and interviewee that would allow the former to elicit the



Context and talk in confrontational discourses

information that is required, and the latter to be able to express his or her ideas as fully as he or she believes it necessary in order not to be misinterpreted or misunderstood. If there is disagreement, both parties to the talk expect their self-public image not to be damaged. Departures from the stereotyped expectations regarding roles and identities projected in the interviews are manifested in different ways and affect the relationship between interviewer, interviewee and audience. First, in confrontational encounters participants frequently act for their own benefit or engage in discussions of private affairs that may lead them to ignore the pre-allocated structure of questioning and answering roles. As a result, talk fails to be addressed to the audience as it is expected in prototypical media interviews. Thus the balance between the three parties to the conversation is broken and the change of tenor may result in a change of genre. This is visible in the extract below: (6) (Clariá–Vani) 18 MC: Desde ya, señor Vani. ¿Qué tiene que ver usted con la municipalidad? 19 V: Nada: Absolutamente nada que no sea la misma que usted como vecino de Córdoba. 20 MC: Si. [La diferencia] 21 V: [Usted, usted] vive en Barrio Jardín 22 MC: Sí, señor. 23 V: Buenos. Yo vivo en Bajo Palermo. 24 MC: Sí. Pero yo no estuve ayer en la municipalidad [ni a favor ni en contra de la] del 25 paro. Quiero preguntarle .. 26 V: [xxx] Debiera estarlo porque usted es tan propietario como yo como vecino de 27 Córdoba. 28 MC: Pero me permite… [A ver si logramos]… 29 V: [Le permito] 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

MC: Of course, Mr. Vani. ¿What is your connection with the Town Hall? V: Absolutely none that is not the same as yours as an inhabitant of Córdoba. MC: Yes [The difference] V: [You, you] live in Barrio Jardín. MC: Yes, Sir. V: Right. I live in Bajo Palermo. MC: Yes. But I wasn’t at the Town Hall yesterday [in favour of or against] the strike. I’d 25 like to ask you .. 26 V: [XXX] You should be because you are as much of a proprietor as I am as an 27 inhabitant of Córdoba. 28 MC: But let me… [Let’s see if we can]… 29 V: Sure. Go on.

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The Clariá–Vani interview shows unfriendly overtones from the very beginning signalled by an enhanced prosody that projects a sense of censorship towards the interviewee’s doings. In Extract (6), in line 18, the interviewer produces his third elicitation – What is your connection with the Town Hall? – which again functions as a challenge to which the interviewee cannot respond satisfactorily (since everybody knows he has no connection with the Town Hall). This veers the discussion into a more private sphere, which produces a change of tenor as Vani adopts a questioning role with the intention of casting doubts on Clariá’s action or, rather, lack of action as regards the Town Hall affair. This stance taken by Vani is meant to shift the focus of the conversation away from the responsibilities attributed to his own personal behaviour. In all the texts chosen for analysis, the interactants’ moral values are at stake. In the interview Clariá–Vani both the interviewer and interviewee negatively judge each other’s character, either explicitly or implicitly, by means of criticizing – personal judgement – or condemning – moral judgement (Martin and Rose 2003). For example, in the fragment that follows, the interviewee is implicitly accused by the journalist of whimsically trespassing on a public institution without having the right to do so. (7) (Clariá–Vani) 60 V: … nacional y provincial 61 MC: O sea. Usted decide. Usted decide que los diputados, los concejales no funcionan y 62 usted decide que usted ocupa ese lugar ¿En nombre de … 63 V: [No, no, no] 64 MC: [… ¿Quién y con] qué derecho? 65 V: [No, no, no] El derecho que le otorga el espacio vacío otorgado por otro. 60 V: … national and provincial. 61 MC: That is, YOU decide, YOU decide that the deputies, council members don’t do their 62 job properly and you decide that you occupy that space. On behalf …? 63 V: [No, no, no] 64 MC: [… of whom and what] right have you got to do that? 65 V: [No, no, no] The right that the empty space others leave gives you.

Here again the interviewer poses a rhetorical question which, far from eliciting information, is meant to voice disagreement: On behalf…of whom and what right have you got to do that? (lines 63 and 65). This moves away from the line expected to be taken by journalists who are supposed to keep attitudes to themselves and manifest criticism in an objective manner so that role relationships are respected and the communicative links



Context and talk in confrontational discourses

Â�between interviewer and interviewee maintained throughout the development of the encounter. We use Goffman’s definition of line (Goffman 1959:â•›5) as “a pattern of verbal and non-verbal acts by which the participant expresses his view of the situation and through this his evaluations of the participants, especially himself ”. The supposedly unbiased line adopted by interviewers or journalists in media interviews is, in our texts, violated by high affective involvement. In fact, the use of evaluative vocabulary to express judgement appears to be a regular feature. In both interviews, the interviewers overtly and strongly criticise their guests’ actions and condemn their public behaviour. Falling out of line may also lead the participants to fail to meet the expectations of the audience and to move away from politic behaviour, with the inevitable loss of face (Watts 2003). In the Clariá–Vani interview, the participants’ roles are reversed: the interviewee interrogates the interviewer and then questions his activities in the radio station for which he works, thus assuming a dominant role and gaining control of the discourse. The interviewer, far from condemning this deviation, contributes to it by engaging in the discussion and by accepting the role imposed by his interlocutor. This alteration of roles also affects the role of the audience who seems to be turned into an unaddressed hearer. This interactional behaviour of the interactants can also be explained in the light of the footings they take up in relation to their remarks. For Goffman (1974) footing is the stance or posture taken by the participant in interaction. The author claims that “a change of footing implies a change in the alignment we take up to ourselves and the others present as expressed in the way we manage the production or reception of an utterance” (Goffman 1974:â•›128). Goffman (1981) distinguishes between different “production formats” employed by speakers in interaction, these formats being: (a) animator, the person who actually utters a sequence of words, (b) author, the person who is the source of the beliefs and of the words through which they are expressed and (c) the principal, the person whose opinion or point of view is depicted in the utterance produced. The journalists conducting the interview with De la Rúa act as animators attributing their accusations to external voices and thus avoiding responsibility for their assertions. In the Clariá–Vani interview, Clariá, on the other hand, presents himself as both animator and author, that is, as the source of the accusations thus contributing even more to the building-up of a tense atmosphere. Clayman and Heritage argue that a primary requirement of media interviews is the maintenance of interviewers’ impartiality so that they “should (i) avoid the assertion of opinions on their own behalf and (ii) refrain from direct or overt affiliation with (or disaffiliation from) the expressed statements of the interviewees” (Clayman and Heritage 2002:â•›126).

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The belligerence shown by the participants in the interviews often disrupts the neutralistic style that interviewers are expected to employ and thus jeopardise the whole enterprise by turning the discussion into a rather conflictual encounter with the loss of most of its informative value. This is observed in the use of utterances with an interrogative structure which are clearly not meant to elicit information from the interviewee. For example, as noted before, in Extract (6), the interviewer asks What is your connection with the Town Hall? (line 18) when he knows that Vanis has no association with the institution and therefore acted illegitimately. Also, in line 100, Extract (5), the utterance Who chose you to go to the Town Hall and tell the staff whether they should or should not go on strike constitutes a rhetorical question used with the purpose of conveying disapproval and showing defiance. The accusation implicit in the first utterance and the disapproval and defiance in the second are not typical means to achieve the on-going action of eliciting information for the sake of the audience. We observe that the expressions quoted here originate in the taking up of a role which is not that of a media interviewer who may be expected to challenge the views of his interlocutor, but not to be aggressive towards him. This seems to show a departure from the expected tenor of a media interview. The unexpected behaviour on the part of the interviewer, which is observed throughout the encounter, seems to generate some kind of retaliation from the guest who uses expressions loaded with the same degree of aggressiveness. In the following sequence from the interview with former president De La Rúa, the host announces that he is going to ask a question but instead, he refers to the investigation that is being carried out in court about a $1m going missing, and states that there is some evidence which seems to suggest that the money went into the hands of government officials or family members of government officials during his period in office. (8) (Bonelli y Silvestre – De la Rúa) 160 D: ¿Pero qué va a decir, que fue a funcionarios de la Casa Rosada? Es mentira. 161 B: Bueno 162 D: Una mentira suya en ese caso 163 B: No, no es una mentira. Es una pregunta lo que le estoy haciendo. Ahora usted sí me 164 respondió. 160 D: But what do you mean? That it (the money) went to government officials? It’s a lie. 161 B: Well. 162 D: A lie of yours in this case. 163 B: No, it’s not a lie. It’s a question that I’m asking you. Now you have answered it.



Context and talk in confrontational discourses

Although here the host does not present the issue as a hard fact and himself as the author of this statement in Goffman’s terms, the interviewee takes this rather personally and replies It is a lie (line 160) and then repeats A lie of yours in this case (line 162). In our view, this again represents a departure from the canonical tenor of an interview as participants are not supposed to throw accusations at each other that would result in the taking up of roles which are atypical in media interviews. Aggressiveness also emerges in the Clariá–Vani interview. (9) (Clariá–Vani) 112 V: …[xx] producto de un.. ¿Quiere que le cuente cómo (Clariá y Pereyra llegaron a 113 LV3? 114 MC: No no. Yo le voy a le voy a pedir primero que no.. eh que no me obligue a 115 interrumpir la comunicación si si [va a..] 116 V: [Igualmente] yo estoy reprimido, así que que si corta esta comunicación a nadie 117 le va a [asustar] 112 V: … [xxx] it is the result of. Do you want me to tell you how you (Clariá and 113 Pereyra) joined LV3 TV station? 114 MC: No, no. I’m going to, I’m going to ask you first not to force me to interrupt this 115 conversation if if [you are going to …] 116 V: [Anyway] I’m already censored, so that if you cut off this communication nobody 117 is going to be [shocked]

In this extract, the utterance Do you want me to tell you how you joined LV3 TV station? (line 112) produced by the guest constitutes a sly insinuation that the host has made a professional career by the use of unethical means. Conflict builds up and in lines 114 and 115, I’m going to ask you first not to force me to cut off this communication if…if…you are… the host answers back, threatening the guest that he will hang up. This threat becomes a fact in the following extract. (10) (Clariá–Vani) 129 MC: [Bueno, evidentemente] no hay ninguna posibilidad de dialogar razonablemente con 130 usted]. 131 V: [Bueno, dialoguemos] Dialoguemos. 132 MC: [Bueno] Vamos a… vamos a seguir nosotros con nuestro programa. A las siete y 133 dieciocho minutos eh…. vamos a continuar con nuestro programa nosotros porque no hay posibilidades de mantener diálogo 134

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129 MC: [Well, obviously] there is no possibility of establishing a [reasonable] dialogue 130 with you. 131 V: [Well. Let’s talk.] Let’s talk 132 MC: [Well] Let’s, let’s go on with our programme. At 7:18 ehm …we’ll carry on with our 133 programme, as there are no possibilities of carrying on with the conversation

In line 129, after unsuccessfully trying to get the conversation back on course, the journalist says Well, obviously there is no possibility of establishing a reasonable dialogue with you… When the guest replies Well. Let’s talk, let’s talk (line 131), the host hangs up on the guest thus cutting off the communication and, addressing the audience, he says Well, let’s go on with our programme (line 132). Here we can clearly see how the host exploits his very powerful position for having the last word or say in his dispute with the guest. This not only alters the role of the interviewer who exercises more power than he is expected to, but it also affects the closing of the interview which is supposed to be negotiated and not imposed unilaterally against the will of the guest. Against this background, expressions of politeness and manifestations of politic behaviour are scarce. So is the use of modulation and modalisation that would normally soften the impact of what is expressed. As expected, when there is aggressive confrontation, there is little room for these features.

7.

Conclusions

The analysis of the confrontational fragaments presented in this work shows the way in which these fragments differ from prototypical, non-confrontational sequences of media talk. The emphasis was placed on the deviations at the levels of tenor and mode. Although for the sake of analysis in the theory as well as in this paper the two aspects have been singled out, it is important to point out that both co-occur whenever an utterance is produced. The results of our study are summarised in Figures 2 and 3. As shown in Figure 2, the mode is seen to contrast drastically in terms of some aspects of the interactional behaviour of the participants when the two types of sequences are compared. Confrontational talk shows a frequent alteration of the turn- taking system mechanism considered suitable in media interviews. Constant interruptions and reluctance to pass the floor, even when it is insistently claimed by the interlocutor, contribute to the emergence of controversial overtones in the encounters.



Context and talk in confrontational discourses

Mode: (Interactional behaviour) Prototypical sequences

Confrontational sequences

Respect for turns

Disrespect for turns

Overlaps and interruptions quickly repaired

Overlaps and interruptions, recurrent and sustained

Language as only component

Language as only component

Spontaneous production

Spontaneous production

Figure 2.╇ Contextual dimension of mode Tenor Prototypical sequences

Confrontational sequences

Contact

Infrequent

Infrequent

Power

Used as expected

Not used as expected (variable)

Affective involvement

Very low

Very high

Orientation to affliation

Frequent

Rare

Figure 3.╇ Contextual dimension of tenor

At the level of tenor there is no variation in the type of contact established, but power, affective involvement and engagement operate differently as shown in Figure 3. The power exercised by the interactants seems to respond more to the needs of the moment by moment unfolding of the discourse than to the prerogatives pre-allocated to their identities. Hierarchies of roles are often forgotten or ignored and the actions taken by the participants cease to be predictable. As mentioned before, one can frequently observe a symmetrical positioning of participants in spite of the fact that, due to their high positions in the social organisations to which they belong, one of them could often be expected to exhibit his power and superiority over his interlocutors and obtain recognition from them. Polite and politic behaviour as well as kind address are practically absent form confrontational encounters while they are common features in the discourse of agreement.

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Finally, a thorough analysis of the contextual characteristics of confrontational interviews is to be completed with a detailed study of other aspects not examined in this paper.

References Andreau, Laura. 2008. Des/cortesía en los medios: El caso de la entrevista televisiva. Unpublished MA dissertation. Universidad Nacional de La Plata. Argentina. Bauman, Richard and Briggs, Charles L. 1990. “Poetics and performances as critical perspectives on language and social life”. Annual Review of Anthropology 19: 59–88. Boden, Deirdre and Zimmerman, Don H. (eds.). 1993. Talk and Social Structure. Cambridge: Polity Press. Charaudeau, Patrick. 1997. El Discurso de la Información. La construcción del discurso social. Barcelona: Editorial Gedisa. Clayman, Steven and J. Heritage, John. 2002. The News Interview. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Drew, Paul and J. Heritage, John (eds.). 1992. Talk at work. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Duranti, Alessandro and Goodwin, Charles (eds.). [1992] 1994. Rethinking Context. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Eggins, Suzanne and Slade, Diana. 1997. Analysing Casual Conversation. Cambridge: Equinox Publishing Ltd. Fetzer, Anita (ed.). 2007. Context and Appropriateness. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Fetzer, Anita. 2007. “Context, contexts and appropriateness”. In Context and Appropriateness, Fetzer, Anita (ed), 3–27. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Goffman, Erving. 1959. Presentation of Self in Everyday Life. New York: Anchor Books. Goffman, Erving. 1974. Frame Analysis. New York: Harper and Row. Goffman, Erving. 1981. Forms of Talk. Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press. Goodwin Harness, Marjorie H. 1983. “Aggravated correction and disagreement in children’s disputes”. Journal of Pragmatics 7: 657–677. Granato, Luisa. 1999. La estructura sociolingüística de la entrevista radial: un estudio de pragmática discursiva. Unpublished doctoral thesis. Greatbatch, David. 1988. “A turn-taking system for British news interviews”. Language in Society 17: 401–430. Gumperz, John J. 2003. “Response essay”. In Language and Interaction. Discussions with John Gumperz, Eerdmans, Susan L., Prevignano, Carlo L. and Thibault, Paul J. (eds), 105–126. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Halliday, Michael A. K. 1985. An Introduction to functional Grammar. London: Arnold. Halliday, Michael A. K. and Hasan, Ruqaia. 1985. Language, Context, and Text: Aspects of Language in a Social-semiotic Perspective. Geelong: Deakin University Press. Hanks, William F. 1994. “The indexical ground of deictic reference”. In Rethinking Context, Â�Duranti, Alessandro and Goodwin, Charles (eds), 43–76. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Heritage, John. 1984. Garfinkel and Ethnomethodology. Cambridge: Polity Press.



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Heritage, John and Greatbatch, David. 1991. “On the institutional character of institutional talk: the case of news interviews”. In Talk and Social Structure, Boden, Deirdre and Zimmerman, Don H. (eds), 93–137. Cambridge: Polity Press. Hutchby, Ian. 1996. Confrontational Talk. Mahwah, New Jersey: Lawrence Erlbaum Associates Publishers. Levinson, Stephen C. [1983] 2008. Pragmatics. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Martin, James R. and Rose, David. [2003] 2008. Working with Discourse. London: Continuum. Martin, James R. and Rose, David. 2008. Genre Relations. Mapping Culture. Milton Keynes, UK: Equinox Publishing Ltd. Móccero, María Leticia. 2005. Tensión y distensión en la entrevista periodística televisiva: Un estudio pragmático-discursivo. Unpublished MA dissertation. Universidad Nacional de La Plata. Argentina. Sacks, Harvey, Schegloff, Emanuel and Jefferson Gail. 1974. “A simplest systematic for the organization of turn-taking in conversation”. Language 50. 4: 696–735. Schegloff, Emanuel. 1988/89. “From interview to confrontation: observations on the Bush/ Rather encounter”. Research on Language and Social Interaction 22: 215–240. Schegloff, Emanuel. 1992. “On talk and its institutional occasions”. In Talk at Work, Drew, Paul and Heritage, John (eds), 101–134. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Stalnaker, Robert C. 1999. Context and Content. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Talbot, Mary, Atkinson, Karen and Atkinson, David. 2003. Language and Power in the Modern World. Alabama: University of Alabama Press. Van Dijk, Teun A. 2009. Society and Discourse. How Social Contexts Influence Text and Talk. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Watts, Richard J. 2003. Politeness. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Widdowson, Henry G. 2004. Text, Context, Pretext. Oxford: Blackwell.

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Deixis in context

This? No, that! Constructing shared contexts in the conversational dyad Konstanze Jungbluth The article focuses on the role of the hearer in the process of constructing context. Her position towards the speaker determines the choices which may be used to structure the dyad of conversation into several sub-spaces. The research on spoken language use is based on Spanish and Polish data (Jungbluth 2005, 2009). Three parts build the ‘whole’ of the conversation: the acoustically perceivable utterances, the parts not uttered but meant by the speaker and the parts not uttered but interpreted by the hearer (Coseriu 1980). The whole is never the same for everyone involved in conversation, as subjects are different from one another (Humboldt 1836, Wittgenstein 1914). The anchoring of context to the uttered and interactively perceived parts of dialogue does compulsorily show up these differences.

1.

Introduction

My research sheds light on the hearer in the process of constructing context. Her position towards the speaker – face-to-face, face-to-back and side-by-side€– determines the choices which may be used in order to structure the dyad of conversation into several sub-spaces. A primary source of my data is natural language use, performed to coordinate manual activities. The situations observed remind one either of the language

. My contribution was first presented at the IPrA conference on diversity, context and structure, Melbourne 2009, forming part of the panel organized by Anita Fetzer and Etsuko Oishi in an outstanding professional manner. Critical comments of the researchers listening and coreading by Kasia Jaszczolt gave good advices to improve the paper. Subsequently, I am deeply grateful to the two anonymous reviewers and Rita Vallentin for their critical reading of the manuscript; special thanks to Amy Swanson for improving the English. All remaining faults and infelicities are my own responsibility.

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plays described by the philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein, or of the language use observed in the capital of Austria by Karl Bühler, who contextualized the short utterances, often consisting of just a single word, to build upon his theory of context. When pairs engaged in manual interaction aim to achieve a shared goal, orientation in space is fundamental. Deictic features, for example demonstratives, are prominent in their dialogue. Building the conversational dyad, do the speaker and her hearer always share the same space, called ‘inside’, which is conceptualized as inclusive? Under which circumstance is there a hearer side space constructed, drawing a borderline between the speaker and the hearer, with the aim to exclude the latter from the sphere of the former? Users of language systems which feature paradigms of three demonstratives, for example Spanish este – ese – aquel (see 2.2; Jungbluth 2005, 2010, in press), Japanese kono – sono – ano (Diessel 1999), Finnish tämä – se – tuo (Laury 1997), Serbian ovaj – taj – onaj (Fulir and Raecke 2002), and English diaÂ� lects this – that – yonder (Cheshire 1997), are forced to select the adequate term, in order to make explicit differentiations, which may be left implicit in other languages with a smaller paradigm of demonstratives, for example Polish (see 2.1) and many other languages. The use of demonstrative pronouns, and the choice of one of them out of their language specific closed paradigms in a cross linguistic perspective is the subject of this paper. Entextualizing this paper and as an eye catcher, the header starts with a scrap of a dialogue: “This? No, that!”. A larger part of the conversation taped will be shown, and further discussed in Section 4.1. The data emerge from the corpus of European Spanish. It will be important to observe, how tight the ongoing action, the questions uttered and the answers are intertwined and how quickly contexts may change. A father and his son were observed when making a choice out of several juice packages at a supermarket. The son was squatting at some distance in front of the products stored. As he was about to take out of the shelves one of the juice packages, he asked: “Este ‘This’?” While first looking down at the leaflet of offers in his hands his father answered: “No este ‘No not this [one]’.” Looking up he continued “Ese ‘This/that in front of you’!”. The translation into five words in English paraphrases the Spanish just one word long utterance ese. Due to changing contexts, note that the reference of the term this is not the same in the question and in the answer. While the former refers to the package on the shelf, the latter refers to a picture in a leaflet. This difference points towards the importance of the situational context, which in the case of origo related deictic terms is basic. . Wittgenstein (1914–1945/1984). . Bühler (1934/1965/1982, translated into English by Donald Fraser Goodwin 1990).



Constructing shared contexts in the conversational dyad

The term ese, the middle term in the three term system of demonstratives used in European Spanish, refers to the juice package in front of the hearer, a space to which German and English speakers may only refer by adding further prepositional phrases or locatives to their terms. The data belong to a qualitative research design. It was collected in Spain and in a community of Polish immigrants in Germany and represents action embracing language use. English glosses are added, as are descriptions of the ongoing action with special attention to the positions of the interacting persons and their perspectives. The latter has been proven to be of special importance. The situational context is fore grounded in the interpretation of these data. Processes of changing contextualization are observed. In Section 5, the step from spatial to temporal reference will be discussed, as an example of recontextualization. Time is not directly perceivable. Cultures have developed forms of mental representations of time, based primarily on space. These transfers are the result of processes of recontextualization, where terms used for reference in space are decontextualized from space and recontextualized in time. Traces of entextualization may be observed too. While the former may consist of small items and transferences of single terms, the latter is only perceivable, when phrases, whole utterances or parts of dialogue are cut off, transferred and integrated, i.e. entextualized in a new textual environment of spoken language use (Urban 1996). Entextualization may be observed in the paper itself (see above), where parts of the data are used to exemplify a certain hypothesis, or simply to draw attention on the research question itself. Coming back to spatial reference, sometimes turning one’s body is enough to change the spatial context. My conception of context is therefore dynamic. Context is interactively done by the participants engaged in conversation. They not only open and close spaces by turning their bodies, but they arrange the space itself. In order to accommodate the reciprocal understanding, they determine the order and direction of the relevant sub-spaces. They may draw the attention of their listeners towards co-occurring perceptual features of the local context, for example touching objects, while talking about them, thus making this anchoring relevant. By doing so the choice of certain linguistic terms out of the respective grammatical paradigm is no longer arbitrary but fixed. Secondary, embedding in an institutional context may determine the choice, while expressing the inclusion or exclusion of the addressee herself, or of her as a member of a certain Â�social

. Under the term text as used in this paper written and spoken manifestations of language use are subsumed (see Jungbluth and Schlieben-Lange 2004). . See “doing gender”; “constructing shared contexts by (non)verbal communication”.

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group, for example of a political party she belongs to (see Czyzewski, Gülich, Hausendorf and Kastner 1995). The extent to which the correspondence of different aspects of context has to be negotiated depends on the finalization of the acting parties involved. Every utterance has to be enriched on both sides, by the speaker and by her hearer/s. What is said is always less than what is understood and less than what is meant (Coseriu 1980). The gap between the meaning which the speaker had in mind, and the understanding of the utterance by the hearer may be narrowed by continuing the dialogue. It will never be closed (see Humboldt 1836–39). “Listening to a word nobody imagines exactly the same as someone else and the tiny difference has wide repercussions and spreads similar to a water ring in the language as a whole. Every understanding is therefore at the same time a not-understanding, every tally of thoughts and feelings is at the same time a gaping.” Meaning and understanding depend on the anchoring of the utterances in contexts at hand for the participants, the add-ons are at the same time necessarily different for everyone and basic in order to make sense of the giving and receiving in the ongoing conversation. Three parts build the ‘whole’ of the conversation: the acoustically perceivable utterances, the parts not uttered but meant by the speaker and the parts not uttered but interpreted by the hearer, consciently and unconsciently. Therefore context is a first order notion and the ‘whole’ will never be the same for each of the participants involved in conversation. The paper is organized in 6 parts. After having familiarized the reader with the differences between two and three term paradigms of demonstrative pronouns in Section 2, I will give an introduction to the conceptualization of the conversational dyad formed by the speaker and her hearer/s in Section 3. I will show the insights of this conceptualization by focusing on action embracing language use in Polish and Spanish in Section 4. The following section on context and contexts consists of two parts. Section 5.1 concerns the recontextualization of spatial terms in time while Section 5.2 concentrates on the dynamics of shared and unshared contexts in situational settings. Finally I take up the title of this volume and will discuss how these data and their interpretation, which reflect language use at the micro context, have to be taken as examples for the use of certain discourse traditions at the meso level. They have to be embedded in language use not at the universal level but at the level of a certain language, of

. „Keiner denkt bei dem Wort gerade und genau das, was der andre, und die noch so kleine Verschiedenheit zittert, wie ein Kreis im Wasser, durch die ganze Sprache fort. Alles Verstehen ist daher immer zugleich ein Nicht-Verstehen, alle Übereinstimmung in Gedanken und Gefühlen zugleich ein Auseinandergehen.“ (Humboldt 1836–39/2003).



Constructing shared contexts in the conversational dyad

a language as a historic phenomenon, a traditional way of talking (and writing), which in the case of Spanish differs between its European and its Latin American varieties.

2.

Two and three term systems of demonstrative pronouns

In the following section the reader will be introduced to the differences between languages, which systematically show an opposition between two demonstratives in their paradigm contrasting between a near and a not near, i.e. distant space, and paradigms of those languages consisting of three demonstratives. The speakers of the latter are forced to make explicit distinctions between three spaces: a near one space, a space at a middle distance and a distant space, consistently performed when staying or sitting side-by-side (see Figure 1 and Section 3.3).

2.1 Two term systems: Polish Looking at the demonstrative pronouns (further on ‘DEMs’) out of 234 languages shown on the map of the World Atlas of Language Structures Online, more than half of them, 127 languages to be exact, are characterized by establishing an opposition between two spaces (Diessel 2005). Polish is one of them. This Slavic language distinguishes between ten ‘this’ and tamten ‘that’. As was said above users of the languages which show up a paradigm of only two terms usually leave contrasts implicit which have to be expressed in languages with three term systems (see Section 2.2 below and discussion in Section 2.3).



face-to-face

Inside ten ‘this’

Outside tamten ‘that’

side-by-side

Near ten ‘this’

Distant tamten ‘that’ (Jungbluth 2009:â•›141–145)

Graph 1.╇ Spatial oppositions expressed by the two term paradigm of DEMs in Polish . For theoretical back ground (Coseriu 1975 and Section 3.1): The French terms – langage, langue, parole – refer to the universal, the historical and the actual levels of linguistic abstractions of ‘language’. The middle one, the historical level may be subdivided into a language and a cultural specific level. Discourse traditions (Jungbluth and Schlieben-Lange 2004), i.e. patterns of dialogues, of discourses or of texts are used to verbally act in settings. They may be shared by closely related cultures and may be performed in several languages (writing post cards; literary forms as novels; discourse of the New Year performed by presidents etc.).

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98 Konstanze Jungbluth

Using demonstrative pronouns only, speakers of Polish may regularly distinguish an inside and an outside space. This is prominent in face-to-face conversations (see the following Section 3). When a shared perspective between speaker and hearer staying side-by-side is on stage, a near space may be opposed against a distant one.

2.2 Three term systems: Spanish Differently from Polish, speakers of Spanish always have to distinguish between three spaces. In the shared perspective they cannot leave it to the situational context whether the space talked about is closer or farther away. Imagine a situation at a vantage point. When talking about landmarks speakers of languages of three term paradigms always have in mind a three part spatial opposition. For example, sights which they may talk about they have to anchor in a space at a middle distance or in a space far away. Similarly to speakers of Polish, speakers of Spanish usually differentiate in face-to-face conversations just between an inside and an outside space. This basic distinction seems to be universal. But when necessary, for example in situations of trouble it goes without extra effort to make further distinctions when talking Spanish. It is familiar to hear speakers of Spanish who just use their “middle” term ese to oppose a speaker side space against a hearer side one. face-to-face

Inside este ‘this’ speaker-side

hearer-side

face-to-back

este (aquí) ‘this (here)’

ese ‘this (there)’

side-by-side

Near este ‘this here’

Middle ese ‘this (there)’



Outside aquel ‘that’

Far away aquel ‘that’ (Jungbluth 2005:â•›45–126)

Graph 2.╇ Spatial oppositions expressed by the three term system of Demonstrative Pronouns in Spanish . Researchers who aim to collect data on the use of the term ‘ese’ which expresses the reference to a hearer-side space may look for situations where a speaker is positioned behind her hearer, called face-to-back (see Section 3.2). These arrangements have turned out to be especially productive. Imagine a teacher looking over the shoulders of his student sitting in front of her. Blocked by the back of the hearer the two spaces, the speaker side one in front of the teacher and the hearer side one in front of the student are clearly separated. The separation is mirrored by the use of ‘este’ for the fomer and ‘ese’ for the latter.



Constructing shared contexts in the conversational dyad

2.3 How to express spaces at a middle distance in Polish? To summarize the different ways in which basic oppositions in language use are spelled out in Polish and Spanish, compare Graphs 1 and 2. Of course one may express in every language of the world everything one wants to, but speakers of languages which show up smaller paradigms have to build longer utterances, the load of ‘substance’ increases. In contrast to a simple demonstrative pronoun, for example Spanish ese, Polish speaker may utter ten przed tobą ‘this in front of you’ to refer to a hearer-side space (see Data 9 and Section 4.3). Due to the weaker paradigm they have to add to the DEM a prepositional phrase (DEM + PP). To refer to the space at a middle distance structurally distinguished from a near and a far away space will urge a similar effort for supplementary linguistic substance, i.e. locative adverbs in addition to the demonstrative pronouns (DEM + ADVloc). face-to-face

Inside ten ‘this’

face-to-back

speaker-side ten (tutaj)  ‘this here’

hearer-side ten przed tobą DEM + PP ‘this before you’

side-by-side

Near ten ‘this’

Middle ten [+N+] tam DEM + ADVloc ‘this there’



Outside tamten ‘that’

Far away tamten ‘that’

(Jungbluth 2009:â•›141–145)

Graph 3.╇ Adding prepositional phrases and/or locatives to the two term-paradigm  of DEMs in Polish

Finer differences are especially prominent in contexts where the two or more people involved do not only “perform […] together a joint action” (Vanderveken and Kubo 2002:â•›16) while talking to one another but when their intention is to coordinate manual activities.

3.

Constructing spatial context in the conversational dyad

When starting to talk to one another, speaker and hearer build the conversational dyad. As underlined by Wilhelm von Humboldt (1827), language use

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100 Konstanze Jungbluth

starts with the pair, with two persons. Every utterance belongs to a reciprocal talk, a dialogue where the speaker imagines herself as opposed to another. Besides of finalization (see above) alterization as the direction of language towards the hearer, the alter, is the other basic activity of language use itself (SchliebenLange 1983). All possible constellations of the position of the speaker towards her hearer(s) will be conceptualized as one of the following situations regardless of the language used: Speaker and her hearer(s) stay or sit behind each other looking at each other face-to-back face-to-face S< H< <S H>

beside each other side-by-side S< H<

Figure 1.╇ Basic constellations of speaker and hearer/s in the dyad of conversation

The angles represent the visual angle of the speaker (S) and the hearer (H), i.e. their direction of perspective rooted in their perceptual view.10 Out of the corner of one’s eye the perspective of the participants of conversation forms the fundament for the construction of spatial micro context. Anchoring is done by reference to the origo. This point zero is located in the dyad of conversation built by speaker and hearer and determined in space and time. The conception of context as a linguistic tool is especially prominent when focusing on deixis. This term derives from the Greek word deiktikós ‘pointing at’ (Bußmann 2002). Deictic expressions may take the form of pronouns, of adverbs, of verbs of motion, but “demonstratives are the most prominent representatives

. „Besonders entscheidend für die Sprache ist es, dass die Zweiheit in ihr eine wichtigere Stelle, als irgendwo sonst, einnimmt. Alles Sprechen ruht auf der Wechselrede, in der, auch unter Mehreren, der Redende die Angeredeten immer sich als Einheit gegenüberstellt. Der Mensch spricht, sogar in Gedanken, nur mit einem Anderen, oder mit sich, wie mit einem Anderen.“ (Humboldt 1827/1985:â•›124). ‘It is decisive for language that duality is playing a more important role in it than anywhere else. Every talk is based on the dialogue (see antiphonal language use), where the speaker is always turning herself towards her public as an integrated whole regardless of the number of listeners. Even when thinking the human kind is talking to another or to herself as if it were another.’ 10. In the literature it is very common to find circles where the speaker is placed in the centre often used by authors of psycho- or cognitive linguistics (Hottenroth 1982, see discussion in Sosnowski 2010, Jungbluth forthcoming).

Constructing shared contexts in the conversational dyad 101



of the paradigm of deictic categories”11 (Nueva Gramática de la Lengua Española, edited by the Real Academia Española in 2009, 1269. The abbreviation NGLE will be used in the following). My findings concentrate on the use of demonstrative pronouns and the choice of one of them out of their language specific closed paradigms in a cross-linguistic perspective. My data of spoken language will exemplify different ways in which context is co-constructed and adapted, sometimes even changed during conversation.

3.1

Face-to-face conversations

When conversation itself is the first finality of a dialogue, the canonical situation is that speaker and hearer are looking towards each other.12 In this constellation they usually treat the space between them as inside in contrast with the outside, the space not focused, situated in the back of the speaker or her hearer and elsewhere. Both are shared by the speaker and her hearer(s), albeit they do not share the same perspective. They are looking towards each other, their perspectives are opposite of one another. All grammars of languages studied so far record at least two terms which denote the fundamental opposition between inside and outside. This opposition may therefore be considered as basic and a trait of language use at the universal level, language understood as the ability of humans to communicate verbally (CoseriuÂ� 1975, Schlieben-Lange 1983, see the French term ‘langage’) regardless of the historically named language spoken at a certain time, i.e. American English, German, Ancient Greek etc. (see the French term ‘langue’). Thus inside versus outside may be opposed in English by this : that, in Spanish by este : aquell, in Polish by ten : tamten to mention just some of them. List 1.╇ Overview of the terms of DEMs used in different languages for the basic spatial opposition between inside and outside Inside Outside

Spanish (3)

Finish (3)

Japanese (3) Polish (2)

Catalan (2)

este aquel

tämä tuo

kono ano

aquest this aquell [sic!] that

ten tamten

English (2)

The numbers in brackets refer to the number of terms of the paradigm of DEMs.

11. “[l]os demostrativos constituyen los representantes más características del paradigma de las categorías deícticas” (NGLE 2009:â•›1269). 12. „Der erst und zweite stehen einander angesichts gegenüber und vernehmen sich […]“ (Grimm 1866:â•›237). ‘The first and the second are staying towards one another face-to-face and hear themselves.’

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Not less than two terms are found to contrast inside and outside. This structure has to be considered as basic, probably as universal, explicitly expressed by all languages included in the sample.

3.2 Face-to-back: Constructing the hearer-side space When the finality of the dialogue is not just the conversation itself, but when an action embracing language use is on stage, speaker and her hearer are often looking in the same direction, for example when focusing on a screen or a work piece. When involved in lessons or professional training one by one, it is not unusual that the speaker is in an upright position instructing the hearer sitting in front of her. These situations where the speaker is positioned behind her hearer, are called face-to-back. To situate objects in space in these situations two bare terms are not sufficient. Language use triggers a finer grained structure, more terms are welcome. If it is not given in a certain language further structure is added. In face-to-back situations both participants share the same perspective with the difference that part of the space in front of the hearer belongs only to herself. Her turned away position is the reason why the speaker does not have visual access to this space.13 The hearer blocks it with the upper part of her body. In this constellation a separate hearer-side space is most likely to be constructed. It is limited with respect to the speaker by her back and extended towards the other endless space of outside more or less in reach of the hearer herself. The turned away position of the hearer forces the construction of a separate unshared hearer-side space. This space is opposite to the space in front of the speaker, unshared as well (see footnote 13 above). The structure of the linguistic paradigm mirrors this opposition. Writers of letters follow this rule, while the place of the writer and the place of the addressee are separate in a clear cut way (Jungbluth 2005:â•›208–209). Users of languages which feature paradigms of three demonstrative pronouns elicit the middle term for this “unshared” space.14 Only these languages have developed a single term to refer to the hearer-side space. The following list helps to compare two and three term paradigms with respect to the way how the speaker- versus the hearer-side spaces may be expressed.

13. Vice versa taking the perspective of the hearer, she herself is not able to perceive the space in her back, extended in front of the speaker staying behind her. There are few situations where with turned away position of the hearer this space between the two is made relevant. It is called speaker-side space. 14. Whether unshared spaces are regularly constructed in conflictive situations even in face to face conversations will be the object of further research.

Constructing shared contexts in the conversational dyad 103



List 2.╇ Reference to hearer-side space in some European languages, Finish and Japanese15 inside

Spanish (3) Finish (3) Japanese (3) Polish (2) Catalan (2)

speaker-side este hearer-side ese

tämä se

kono sono

ten ten +PP

English ( 2)

aquest this aquell/PronPoss15 this + PP

The numbers in brackets refer to the number of terms of the paradigm of DEMs.

3.3 Side-by-side: Near and distant spaces Staying or sitting side-by-side, speaker and hearer share their perspectives to a great deal. Prominent are situations at a vantage point, ‘mirador’, where natives are expected to give explanations to foreigners by drawing their attention towards certain landmarks. The construction of spatial context is not limited to a bipolar construction, but may be threefold including a space at a middle distance between the near and the far away spaces. This practice is especially prominent in those languages where the respective paradigm consists of three pronouns. “[…] [W]ith very few exceptions (notably the languages that have more than four adnominal demonstratives), languages do not evoke more than three different locations on the distance scale. For the great majority of the world’s languages, three appears to be the upper limit; there is very little cross-linguistic variation in this domain.”  (Diessel 2008)16

4.

Constructing context to coordinate manual activities

Harvest, especially when done manually, is one of the contexts where joint actions of pairs working and interchanging utterances with the aim to coordinate their activity are regularly performed. Making a choice of preferred products in supermarkets is another example where pairs may be observed who are engaged

15. “Jo en tinc la mitat del teu\ (…0.46) aquest tall era la mitat del teu” [COC 19:â•›890–894] ‘I have got half of yours\ this one was half [as big as] your one’. For further discussion see Â�JungÂ�bluth (2005:â•›134–135). 16. There are languages reported which show up paradigms of four and more pronouns (Gruzdeva 2007). “Four- and five-term systems occur in three regions: North America (Koasati, Maricopa, Navajo, Tlingit, Quileute), Africa (Hausa, Iraqw, Somali, Malagasy), and the Pacific region (Kambera, Paakantyi, Asmat)” (Diessel 2005). Hardly all of them are internally structured in such a way that they distinguish three spaces at different distances. Additionally a few languages make a distinction between a remote and a far away distance.

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in action embracing language use. The general question consists in deepening the understanding of how the aim is achieved to adjust the context so far that the needs of the coordinated action are satisfied. Our interest is especially focused on demonstratives and on the way they are used to construct spaces which are relevant for the spatial orientation of the actors involved. The data is organized following the constellations introduced above (see Section 2). Polish data and Spanish, more precisely data collected in the heartland of Castilia (Province of Toledo) will be discussed in order to compare the way shared and unshared spaces are constructed by speakers of languages with two- or threeterm paradigms of demonstrative pronouns.

4.1 The construction of unshared spaces in face-to-back situation Especially in the turned away position of the hearer with regard to the speaker, where both are looking in the same direction, it is common to establish a separate hearer-side space, unshared by the speaker. The situation where the following dialogue between a father and his son took place was observed in a super market. First the father put his finger on a picture showing juice of a certain trade mark announced in a commercial leaflet in his hands. After a pause, he looked up and towards the juice packages on the shelf in front of his son who was squatting at a distance of two arm lengths looking in the same direction. The son was obviously in doubt as to which sort of juice he was expected to take. He asked his father “This?” who formulated the answer: “No, not this, that one [in front of you]!” Spanish S-02.1 S-02.2 S-02.1E S-02.2E 

este : ese (speaker- : hearer-side) hijo ¿Este? ¡No este (8 sec), ese! padre son This? (son points to the package of juice in the shelf) father No, not this1 (pause), that one (in front of you)! (Jungbluth 2005:â•›65)

Data 1.╇ Constructing unshared spaces, i.e. a hearer-side space in European Spanish

4.2 The construction of shared spaces in a face-to-face situation The following Polish data represents the complementary construction of shared spaces. Two people were involved in the harvest of fruits. They faced each other. One of them had to direct the attention of the other towards those fruits which appeared to be ripe, thus ready to be picked. The two spaces put in opposition

Constructing shared contexts in the conversational dyad 105



to one another are shared. Inside and outside is constructed. The question of the one harvesting was tą ‘these’ and the answer of the partner who intended to make him change his choice culminated in tamte! ‘those!’. This utterance was equivalent with an order directed towards the hearer telling him to turn his body. Only then he was able to face towards the space which before had been extended in his back, i.e. outside. The construction of the spaces themselves was rooted in the dyad of speaker and hearer as the reference was built upon a shared origo. Polish P-01.1 P-01.2 P-01.3 P-01.1E P-01.2E P-01.3E 

ten : tamten (inside : outside) mężczyzna Nie, nie, nie te są mniejsze. Którą? Tą? pomocnica mężczyzna Po twojej lewej stronie, za tą gałęzią. Tamte! man No, no, not these, they are smaller. harvester Which ones? These? man To your left side (pause) behind this branch. Those over there! (Jungbluth 2009:â•›143)

Data 2.╇ Constructing shared spaces in face-to-face dialogue in Polish

4.3 Explicit and implicit: Use in different languages The data discussed so far (see Sections 4.1 and 4.2) may suggest that it depends on the weakness of the paradigm of the language spoken whether a speaker will refer to two or three spaces in a certain situation. This is not the case. “The true difference between languages is not what may or may not be expressed but in what must or must not be conveyed by the speaker.” (Jakobson 1959:â•›141)

While the difference between speaker- and hearer-side spaces has to be made explicit all the time in languages with a three term paradigm, in the corresponding situations it may be left implicit in the languages which are characterized by a more restricted paradigm (see List 2 above). Only in those situations where the construction of unshared spaces is important for the end of the ongoing action, speakers of languages with two term paradigms are forced to add further linguistic ‘substance’ in order to construct the oppositional space (see Section 2.3). Polish (making hearer side explicit: use of prepositional phrase) P-09.1 Ci przed tobą również się śpieszą. P-09.1E These in front of you are busy too. 

(Jungbluth 2009:â•›145)

Data 3.╇ Unshared spaces in Polish expressed by a DEM and a prepositional phrase

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English17 seems to behave quite similarly.18 Spatial relations are fundamental, as the spatial anchoring is directly perceivable (Levinson 2003, Levinson and Wilkins 2006). These relations and the linguistic terms which express them may be recontextualized to be used metaphorically in order to structure time (see Müller 2008, Tenbrink 2007).

5.

Context and contexts

5.1

From space to time: The activity of recontextualizing

The concrete oppositions between proximal and distant spaces are transferred to form secondary oppositions. Notions such as ‘space of time’, ‘social space’, ‘space of discourse’ and ‘space of text’ (Jungbluth 2005) reflect the metaphorical approach which contributes to the construction of contexts built upon spatial relations. Recontextualizing spatial oppositions in time is common to human languages. The perception of time depends, to a great deal, on culturally determined conceptions of time. As humans are only able to experience duration and change, the latter often correlated with motion, we have to build our assumptions of time upon this base. Cultures have developed circular and linear conceptions of time. In the latter case, which is spread in Western cultures today, the flow of time is constructed parallel to space. Either the ego is expected to approach the future by moving herself along a landscape where future events are positioned along the path, or the ego is taken to be static and the events are passing by (see “the complex moving time model” and “the complex moving ego model” Evans 2004:â•›214–222).

5.1.1 From space to time: European Spanish Most cultures correlate the future with the path in front of oneself.19 The near space centered in the origo is traditionally related to the present, proximal in 17. See Data 1: The fact of belonging to a two term paradigm is visible in the English double gloss ‘this/that’ for the Spanish DEM ese. The similarity to the Polish data is reflected in the prepositional phrase of the gloss ‘that one in front of you’. 18. Another language with a two-term paradigm of demonstrative pronouns is Catalan. My data attest the fact that speakers of this Romance language may add a possessive pronoun to construct a hearer side space: [COC 18:â•›212–220] Cat-07.1 Jo tinc_/aquell.teu_/autoretrat de la mala cara. (Jungbluth 2005:â•›134–135) Cat-07.1E I have that.your self portrait with the ugly face.  19. Albeit this parallelism is not necessary at all, as for Aimara the opposite is true. Consistently with the visual perception of the space in front of oneself the past is imagined in front aswell,

Constructing shared contexts in the conversational dyad 107



space and time. This space may be extended towards the past and the future20 while leaving further temporal determination to the verb. SR-1 SR-1E

[E]ste verano tuvieron un buen promedio de venta[.].  This summer they have sold above average.

(NGLE 2009:â•›1283)

Data 4.╇ Extending the present towards the past a combination of the DEM  and the perfect tense is used SR-2 SR-2E

[E]ste verano dejaré que el sol me ponga morena.  This summer I will let myself get a suntan.

(NGLE 2009:â•›1283)

Data 5.╇ Extending the present towards the future a combination of the DEM  and the future tense is used

Spatial distance is correlated with the past. Usually it is the term at the opposite end which is used for this purpose. European and Latin American Spanish speakers make a different choice, as some of the varieties spoken overseas reduce the paradigm to only two terms at least at the colloquial level. Compare the use in combination of the demonstratives with entonces ‘then’ in Data 8 and 6 where the European variety shows up the collocation of the third demonstrative, aquel, to refer to a remote past (aquel entonces). SR-3  SR-3E

Carlos, que vivía conmigo en aquel entonces [.] tropezó con Emigdio. (NGLE 2009:â•›1281) Carlos, who was living with me at that time, happened to meet Emigdio.

Data 6.╇ In European Spanish the third term of the DEMs is used to refer to a remote past

5.1.2 From space to time: Latin American Spanish The reduction of the paradigm observed in some Spanish varieties spoken in Latin America triggers the middle term21 to be used for reference to spatial distance erasing the difference between a closer and a further away distant space. Instead of the third term aquel used in European Spanish, the opposite end of the continuum is filled by the second term ese in those varieties. visually perceptible, well known. On the contrary the future is opaque, dark and thus correlated with the space in the back of oneself (Nuñez and Sweeter 2006). 20. See the conception of “extended now” prominent in the discussion on perfect (von Stechow 1999). 21. As a consequence the middle term has to be characterized as middle-distant forming a unit with the distant term instead of middle-proximal. In Spanish the boundary between proximal and distant terms leaves at one side one term for proximity and at the other side two terms for distance.

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SR-4 Ves esa estrellita que brilla tan fuerte, esa es el lucero.  (NGLE 2009:â•›1281) SR-4E Can you see the star which shines so bright, it is the morning star.

Data 7.╇ In Latin American Spanish the second term of the DEMs is used to refer  to a far away distance

Consistently with this conceptualization and as evidence for the autonomous metaphorical transfer in Latin American varieties, based on the spatial reference the abstract oppositions in time are deduced and thus recontextualized. Instead of the European idiom aquel entonces ‘at that time’ American Spanish speakers prefer ese entonces to refer to the remote past. SR-5 SR-5E

Sonreía poco en ese entonces.  She did not laugh much at that time.

(NGLE 2009:â•›1281)

Data 8.╇ In Latin American Spanish the second term of the demonstratives is used  to refer to a remote past

Most Latin American Spanish speakers have thus overcome the necessity to distinguish between a proximal and a remote past while the speakers of European Spanish make a robust use22 of the two terms, ese and aquel. SR-6 SR-6E SR-7 SR-7E

Pensé en esos años que ya habían pasado.  (NGLE 2009:â•›1283) I thought about those years which had been passed. Y por su pluma fueron pasando los momentos de aquellos días. (NGLE 2009:â•›1283) And through his pen the moments of those days were passing.

Data 9.╇ European Spanish speakers have to distinguish between a close  and a remote past

Whether the same division between a proximal and a distal space of time is true for the future is still an open question. According to the recently appeared Nueva Gramática de la Lengua Española, the demonstrative aquel “tends to specialize for a retrospective deixis”23 (NGLE 2009:â•›1283). Bruyne (1993) argues that the sequence of temporal spaces in Spanish is mirrored on both sides, i.e. towards the past and towards the future (see Jungbluth 2005:â•›86–88). He admits that frequency of use is unbalanced. Most of the examples of aquel are referring to the remote past, but to a far away future, for example to the future when our oil deposits will run out, speakers of regions in the North of Spain may refer to using aquel too. As deictic elements are often knots where several references are combined, some examples are tricky to count. NGLE prefers not to call them temporal. The solution is found by calling their use evocative or allusive, as their purpose is to evoke a 22. The use is at the same time robust and frequent. The characterization of robust refers to the observation that users in Europe insist on their choice and consider other terms as incorrect. 23. “[…] tiende a especializarse [.] en la deixis retrospectiva” (NGLE 2009:â•›1283).



Constructing shared contexts in the conversational dyad 109

shared context between speaker and hearer,24 thus subsuming those occurrences under the header deixis in absence.

5.2 The dynamics of contextualization: From shared to unshared spaces Reference to time is based on spatial relations (see Section 5.1). We leave the former behind and turn back to the latter with a focus on the data collected in action embracing speech events. Here the reciprocal orientation of speaker and hearer is not only a need of conversation itself, but of the ongoing coordination of interactive work (see Deppermann et al. 2010). As was said in the beginning, a turn of the body may be enough to reconstruct the conceptualization of the spatial oppositions on stage. Shared spaces may become unshared, outside space may be reconstructed as a hearer side one. From shared to unshared spaces: Spanish (outside is reconstructed as hearer-side) S-09.1 La puerta aquella (pause) esa. [The addressee is getting nearer the place referred to.] S-09.1E That door over there (pause) this one (in front of you).

Data 10.╇ Moving in space changes shared to unshared spaces

The situation is similar to the one discussed in Section 4.2, but the Polish pair did not need to reconstruct the oppositions of space as the addressed harvester was able to act as he was expected to do, i.e. he chose the ripe fruit. In the example above, the speaker was not sure whether the hearer had been able to get the right reference. He observed the person moving on and by the change of the demonstrative pronoun he told the hearer that he had reached the door where he was expected to ring the doorbell. The struggle about the construction and conceptualization of spaces is very prominent in situations where descriptions of paths, landscapes etc. are negotiated. The documentation of German data collected by Fricke (2007) in the respective situations aims to represent different aspects of the multimodal setting. The deictics used are not demonstrative pronouns but the cognitively related demonstrative adverbs hier ‘here’ and da ‘there’25.

24. “Los usos evocadores de los demostrativos constituyen una manifestación de la llamada deixis en ausencia [sic!], puesto que expresan una forma de lejanía cuya característica más notoria es el hecho de que apela a cierto ámbito de nociones compartidas por el hablante y sus interlocutores [.]” (NGLE 2009:â•›1283; italics KJ). 25. Cross-linguistically the relation between demonstrative pronouns and locatives/demonstrative adverbs is so close that weak paradigms may be reorganized by fusion of the respective terms. See for example French celui, Brazilian Portuguese esse…aí (Jungbluth 2005:â•›161).

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Contexts and unshared spaces: German (Fricke 2007) G-3.1 B: 1[wenn HIER das Gewässer iss\ (.) {(.)} A: {hm} (.) B: 2[und DA das Haus\ (.) G-3.2 A: nein 3[nein HIER iss das Gewässer 4[und DA iss das Haus\ (..) G-3.3 B: das verSTEH ich nich\ ]4]3 (..)]2]1 G-3.1E B: if HERE is the river A: hm B: and THERE the house G-3.2E A: no (no HERE is the river [and THERE is the house] G-3.3E B: I can’t understand

Data 11.╇ German data showing the failure of the construction of shared  conceptualizations of spaces

Finally I will mention some desiderata for cross-linguistic research linked with these outcomes.

6.

Parts meet whole: State of the art and outlook

Taking into consideration all these unequal add-ons on both sides of the involved participants, it may seem to be astonishing that we achieve an understanding at all. The whole is never the same, as subjects are different from one another and the anchoring of the uttered and interactively perceived parts in the contexts does compulsorily show up these differences. Nevertheless, negotiating the meaning of the utterances from turn to turn narrows the context step by step, albeit not always understanding is achieved (see Data 11). Action and language use interactively done by speaker and her hearer/s together make up the whole. Data collected in situations where action embracing language use is on stage and research on this empirical base helps to deepen our understanding of the fine grain labor done in discourse in order to achieve the reciprocal orientation in the local situation. Studying conversations on topics which are less concrete ramify the complexity of orientation without any doubt. For the not involved observer this kind of scenario is trickier. It is difficult to find out to what degree a reciprocal understanding has been achieved by the protagonists (see Pitsch 200926). The reported approach focuses on aspects of micro contexts and the language use of speaker and her hearer(s) in the conversational dyad. Similar to a Russian nesting doll, understanding may only be achieved if these utterances are embedded in their respective meso and macro contexts. 26. Pitsch deals with data of bilingual/immersive lessons on history given at a school in Buenos Aires. For a long time it seems as if the students had understood their teacher. Unexpectedly and finally it turns out, that they misunderstood him (see Rosenberg in prep).



Constructing shared contexts in the conversational dyad

Concerning the former, participants of conversation recognize the underlying discourse tradition (see Ciapuscio, Jungbluth, Kaiser and Lopes 2006, �Jungbluth 2005:╛13, Schlieben-Lange 1996). Sequences to start a conversation organized as pairs and containing formulas of greeting and other ones mirrored at the end to say goodbye form the frame of conversations. Speakers follow the patterns of a certain genre (see the term discourse tradition in Section 1) rooted in the repertoire of their speech community, while hearers decode the structures of the ongoing conversation and the particular and overall finalization of the ongoing exchange of utterances. The way these discourse traditions are performed may depend on the language use of certain social groups, such as the youth groups or professionals, for example people involved in harvest activities. Professionals in general are forming part of the macro contexts where certain domains may be differentiated by a speech community. Institutions of a society at a certain time in history and the architecture of language use practiced by their members on workdays and on Sundays is the wider context where the interpretation of the ongoing conversation is fit in. Polycentric languages, for example Spanish, may differ in the way speakers establish oppositions in space or time and their hearer expect them to do: Latin American Spanish27 conceptualizes space and time different from European Spanish (see 5.1.1 and 5.1.2). Collection of further data in different languages is needed to answer the remaining questions. How do speakers of different languages use the forms their grammar provides? What strategies are conventionalized in situations where the small set of oppositions rooted in grammar is not sufficient for the aim of the ongoing conversation? What about the interface between linguistic and gestural means? How is disambiguation achieved cross-linguistically: by grammar, by adding more lexical items, by a rigid belonging to certain discourse traditions or even social institutions and their respective professionals? Do the strategies depend on the situations? Which kind of context comes along with which kind of language use? Widening the context from the micro level of the actors involved, it is assumed that at a meso level there are groups, for example characterized by gender, age or profession, who may conventionalize a certain use. Even at a macro level, institutions or whole domains are supposed to practice a certain language use at the cost of opacity for the uninvolved outsiders. Research in this area of pragmatics is still fascinating and will help to deepen our knowledge on languages and linguistics in general, pragmatics and on the dynamics of the construction of shared contexts in particular.

27. Whether this difference is due to language contact and/or the amount of L2 (i.e. Spanish as a second language) is an open question.

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References Bühler, Karl. 1934/1965/1982. Sprachtheorie – Die Darstellungsfunktion der Sprache, Stuttgart: G. Fischer. Translated into English by Donald Fraser Goodwin (1990), Theory of Language. Amsterdam: Benjamins. Bußmann, Hadumod. 2002. Lexikon der Sprachwissenschaft. Stuttgart: Kröner. Cheshire, Jenny. 1997. “Involvement in ‘standard’ and ‘nonstandard’ English.” In Taming the vernacular: from dialect to written standard language, Jenny Cheshire and Dieter Stein (eds), 68–82. Harlow: Longman. Ciapuscio, Guiomar, Jungbluth, Konstanze, Kaiser, Dorothee and Lopes, Celia (eds.). 2006. Sincronía y diacronía de tradiciones discursivas en Latinoamérica [Bibliotheca Ibero Americana 107]. Madrid: Vervuert. Czyzewski, Marek, Gülich, Elisabeth, Hausendorf, Heiko and Kastner, Maria (eds.). 1995. Nationale Selbst- und Fremdbilder im Gespräch. Kommunikative Prozesse nach der Wiedervereinigung Deutschlands und dem Systemwandel in Mittelosteuropa. Opladen: Westdeutscher Verlag. COC╇ Corpus Oral de Conversa Col.loquial, see Oller, Anna, Alturo, Núria, Bladas, Òscar, Payà, Marta, Torres, Marta and Payrató, Lluís (eds.), El COC del CUB: Un corpus per a l’estudi de la conversa col.loquial, in: Zeitschrift für Katalanistik 13: 58–59. Coseriu, Eugenio. 1975. Sprachtheorie und allgemeine Sprachwissenschaft. München: Fink. Coseriu, Eugenio. 1980. Textlinguistik: eine Einführung. Tübingen: Francke/UTB. Deppermann, Arnulf, Reitemeier, Ulrich, Schmitt, Reinhold and Spranz-Fogasy, Thomas (eds.). 2010. Verstehen in professionellen Handlungsfeldern. Tübingen: Narr. Diessel, Holger. 1999. Demonstratives. Form, function and grammaticalization. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Diessel, Holger. 2005. “Chapter 41: Distance contrasts in Demonstratives.” In The World Atlas of Language Structures ONLINE, Martin Haspelmath, Matthew S. Dryer, David Gil and Bernard Comrie (eds). München: Max Planck Digital Library http://wals.info/feature/ description/41 09032010. Evans, Vyvyan. 2004. The Structure of Time. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Fetzer, Anita. 2004. Recontextualizing Context: Grammaticality meets Appropriateness. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Fulir, Gabriele and Raecke, Jochen. 2002. „Demonstratio ad oculos – ein alles andere als einfaches Phänomen. Am Beispiel des Bosnisch/Kroatisch/Serbischen“. In Deixis – universelle und einzelsprachliche Aspekte, Wolfgang Klein and Konstanze Jungbluth (eds), LiLi 125: 146–171. Fricke, Ellen. 2007. Origo, Geste und Raum – Lokaldeixis im Deutschen. Berlin: de Gruyter. Grimm, Jakob. 1866. „Über den Personenwechsel in der Rede.“ In Abhandlungen zur Literatur und Grammatik. Kleinere Schriften, Bd. III, Jakob Grimm, 236–311. Berlin: Dümmler. Gruzdeva, Ekaterina. 2007. Challenging Theory: Spatial Deixis in Nivkh 09032010. Hottenroth, Priska. 1982. “The System of Local Deixis in Spanish.” In Here and There. Crosslinguistic Studies on Deixis and Demonstration, Jürgen Weissenborn and Wolfgang Klein (eds), 133–153. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Humboldt, Wilhelm von. 1827/1985. „Über den Dualis.“ In Wilhelm von Humboldt. Über die Sprache, Jürgen Trabant (ed), 104–128. München: dtv.



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Humboldt, Wilhelm von. 1836–39/2003. Über die Verschiedenheit des menschlichen Sprachbaues und ihren Einfluß auf die geistige Entwicklung des Menschengeschlechts. Wiesbaden: Fourier. Jakobson, Roman. 1959. “Boas’ view of grammatical meaning.” In The Anthropology of Franz Boas, Memoir of the American Anthropological Association 89, Walter Goldschmidt (ed), 139–145. Jungbluth, Konstanze. 2003. “Deictics in the Dyad of Conversation.” In Deictic Conceptualisation of Space, Time and Person, Friedrich Lenz (ed), 13–40. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Jungbluth, Konstanze and Schlieben-Lange, Brigitte. 2004. „Text.“ In Handbuch für Sprache und Kommunikation 3.1, Soziolinguistik, Norbert Dittmar and Klaus Mattheier (eds), 614–633. Berlin: de Gruyter. Jungbluth, Konstanze. 2005. Pragmatik der Demonstrativpronomina in den iberoromanischen Sprachen. Tübingen: Niemeyer. Jungbluth, Konstanze. 2008. “Atribuindo estrutura espacial ao tempo: o futuro através das línguas romanas.” In Encontros de vista, Recife, Núm. 2: 57–69. Jungbluth, Konstanze. 2009. „Sprachen vergleichen. Perspektiven und Räume.“ In Universitätsschriften 28: 135–150. Frankfurt/Oder: Europa-Universität VIADRINA. Jungbluth, Konstanze. 2010. „Deiktika als Satzkonnektoren: Universelle, romanistische und einzelsprachliche Aspekte.“ In Wenn Deiktika nicht zeigen: Deiktische Formen als Satzkonnektoren und Diskursmarker. Deixis, Pragmatik und Grammatikalisierung, Christiane Maaß and Angela Schrott (eds), 331–351. Münster: LIT. Jungbluth, Konstanze. In press. „Einzelaspekt Deixis.“ In Handbuch Spanisch, Bernhard Poell and Joachim Born (eds). Berlin: Erich Schmidt. Jungbluth, Konstanze. Forthcoming. Review of Sosnowski (2010) to be published in Pragmatics 21.1. (2011). Laury, Ritva. 1997. Demonstratives in Interaction. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Levinson, Stephen C. 2003. Space in Language and Cognition. Cambridge: CUP. Levinson, Stephen C. and Wilkins, David P. (eds.). 2006. Grammars of Space. Explorations in Cognitive Diversity. Cambridge: CUP. Müller, Cornelia. 2008. Metaphors. Dead and alive, sleeping and waking. A cognitive approach to metaphors in language use. Chicago: Chicago University Press. Nueva Gramática de la Lengua Española. 2009. Real Academia Española (ed.). Madrid: Espasa. Núñez, Rafael E. and Sweetser, Eve. 2006. “With the future behind them: Convergent evidence from Aymara language and gesture in the crosslinguistic comparison of spatial construals of time.” Cognitive Science 30: 1–49. Pitsch, Karola. 2009. „Interaktion und Spracharbeit im bilingualen/immersiven Geschichtsunterricht: Zum Zusammenhang von Verbalsprache, Körpergestik und Notationspraktiken.“ In Bilingualer Unterricht (CLIL) im Kontext von Sprache, Kultur und Multiliteralität, Stephan-Alexander Ditze and Ana Halbach (eds), 203–223. Frankfurt a.M.: Lang. Rosenberg, Katharina. In prep. Experten-Laien-Kommunikation am Beispiel von Migranten in Buenos Aires und Berlin. Univ. Kiel. Schlieben-Lange, Brigitte. 1983. Traditionen des Sprechens. Stuttgart: Kohlhammer. Sosnowski, Roman. 2010. Deissi spaziale nei testi teatrali italiani del XVI secolo. Kraków: Wydawnictwo Uniwersytetu Jagiellońskiego. Stechow, Arnim von. 1999. „Das deutsche Perfekt“. Zeitschrift für Literaturwissenschaft und Linguistik 29: 86–118.

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Tenbrink, Thora. 2007. Space, time, and the Use of Language. Berlin: de Gruyter. Urban, Greg. 1996. “Entextualizing, Replication and Power.” In Natural Histories of Discourse, Michael Silverstein and Greg Urban (eds), 21–44. Chicago: Chicago Univ. Press. Vanderveken, Daniel and Kubo, Susumo. 2002. Essays in Speech Act Theory. Amsterdam: Benjamins. Wittgenstein, Ludwig. 1914–1945/1984. Logisch-philosophische Abhandlung. Tractatus Â�logicophilosophicus. Frankfurt a.M.: Suhrkamp.

“Here is the difference, here is the passion, here€is the chance to be part of great change” Strategic context importation in political discourse Anita Fetzer This contribution examines the strategic importation of context through conventional means focusing on the communicative function of the indexical deictic form here and its counterpart there in the dialogic genre of political interview and in the monologic genre of political speech. It is based on the premise that context is a dynamic construct which is both presupposed and co-constructed, and imported and invoked. Context is cognitive insofar as the pragmatic premise of intentionality of communicative action is concerned; it is social insofar as language use is seen as social interaction, and it is linguistic insofar as the linguistic system is seen as a constitutive part of communicative action. As indexical deixis, here and there ground reference to origo, and as relational deixis, they sign relation to origo. In the two genres, the distribution and function of here and there differ: the local linguistic context of here and there contains more linguistic means of a determinate nature in the speeches than in the interviews.

1.

Introduction

Context and discourse are relational concepts: discourse contains context, and context contains discourse. While discourse is generally conceived of as bounded, context tends to be seen as an unbounded entity embedding discourse, and as an unbounded entity contained in discourse. In that scenario, context is assigned a presuppositional status. Because of their multifaceted nature and complexity, context and discourse can no longer be looked upon as analytic primes but rather need to be seen as multilayered parts-whole configurations. That is, context contains sub-contexts, discourse contains sub-discourses (or discourse types), subcontexts contain context, and sub-discourses contain discourse. To capture the

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micro- and macro-oriented perspectives, a top-down approach accounting for the ‘object as a whole’ and a bottom-up approach accounting for the ‘object’s constitutive parts’ is required. As regards discourse, discourse type, discourse genre, and its constitutive parts need to be considered, and for context, social context, linguistic context, and cognitive context with their constitutive parts require consideration. Political discourse is one of the sub-discourses. It may refer to discourse which itself is political, or to an analysis of political discourse as simply an example of discourse type, without reference to political content or political context. Political discourse is public discourse, and in the age of mediatized mass democracies, political discourse is also media discourse. It is concerned with political action and decision-making processes, with action and control, such as law-making procedures, party politics and political executive and administration, and with public participation and opinion formation. Hence, politics and political discourse are no longer clear-cut domains. Their boundaries have become more and more blurred as they intersect with mass media and media communication. To capture the interactive and dynamic nature of context and discourse, methodological compositionality informed by linguistics, psychology, sociology, linguistic anthropology, and cultural studies is required. Only then is it possible to cross and transcend disciplinary boundaries and account for inherently unbounded theoretical constructs, which may become bounded when instantiated. This contribution examines the strategic importation of context through conventional means in the discourse type of political discourse paying particular attention to the monologic discourse genre of political speech and the dialogic discourse genre of political interview. It is based on the premise that context is a dynamic construct which is both presupposed and co-constructed, and imported and invoked. Context is cognitive insofar as the pragmatic premise of intentionality of communicative action is concerned (Cohen, Morgan and Pollack 1992, Grice 1975); it is social insofar as language use is seen as social interaction (Gumperz 1992), and it is linguistic insofar as the linguistic system is seen as a constitutive part of communicative action (Fetzer 2004, 2010). The focus is on the communicative function of the indexical deictic forms here and there in the dialogic genre of political interview and in the monologic genre of political speech. As indexical deixis, here and there ground reference to origo, and as relational deixis they sign relation to origo (Hanks 1992). In the two genres, the distribution and function of here and there differ: their local linguistic context contains more linguistic means of a determinate nature in the speeches than in the interviews. The paper is organized as follows: the following section, context and context importation, examines context as a theoretical construct and distinguishes between four types of context: linguistic context, cognitive context, social contextÂ�



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and Â�sociocultural context. The third section, political discourse in context, presents the data under investigation and their genre-specific distribution. The fourth section, place deixis: ‘here’ and ‘there’, examines their contextualization, cooccurrencesÂ� and functions, and the final section concludes.

2.

Context and context importation

Context is one of those concepts which is indispensable to pragmatic and discursive theories but almost impossible to delimit and to define. Discourse contains context, and context contains discourse. Context is imported into discourse, it is invoked in discourse, and it is a necessary condition for the construal of textual coherence. Consequently, an analysis of discourse is intrinsically connected with an analysis of context: context is a constitutive part of discourse, and discourse is embedded in context. In pragmatics-based terminology, context is presupposed or imported, and co-constructed or invoked (Levinson 2003), and in �interactionalsociolinguistic terms, context is brought into discourse, and context is brought out in discourse (Gumperz 1992). The theoretical construct of context has been approached from a number of different perspectives, which are presented briefly in the following. Firstly, context is conceived as a frame whose job is to frame content by delimiting that content. The former operation assigns content the status of figure, and the latter assigns the context surrounding the figure the status of ground (Goffman 1986). The gestalt-psychological figure-ground scenario prevails in psychological and psycholinguistic perspectives on context. It has also been adapted to cognitive pragmatics as is reflected in the relevance-theoretic conception of context as an onion, metaphorically speaking. Sperber and Wilson not only point out the interconnected nature of the layers but also stress the fact that their order of inclusion corresponds to their order of accessibility (Sperber and Wilson 1986). This is of particular importance to the cognitive operations of inferencing and to the calculation of implicatures, which are key operations in natural-language communication. Secondly, context is seen as a dynamic construct which is interactionally organized in and through the process of communication. This view prevails in ethnomethodology and ethnomethodological conversation analysis (Garfinkel 1994, Goodwin and Duranti 1992, Heritage 1984, Schegloff 1992), interactional sociolinguistics (Gumperz 1996, 2003) and sociopragmatics (Fetzer 1999, 2004), where context is assigned the dual status of process and product. The dynamic outlook is based on the premises of indexicality of social action and on the (joint) construction of common context; that is, meaning is not conceived of as autonomous

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but rather as relational, considering the embeddedness and interdependence of linguistic expressions. In a similar vein, context is seen as a relational construct, relating communicative actions and their surroundings, relating communicative actions, relating individual participants and their individual surroundings, and relating the set of individual participants and their communicative actions to their surroundings. Thirdly, context is seen as given, as is reflected in the presuppositional approach to context which is also referred to as common ground or background information. Here, context is seen as a set of propositions which participants take for granted in interaction. This allows for two different conceptions of context: a static conception in which context is external to the utterance, and an interactive one, in which context is imported into the utterance while at the same time invoking and reconstructing context (Fetzer and Fischer 2007). The contextdependence� of context is thus reflected in its statuses as (1) given and external to the utterance, (2) re-constructed and negotiated in and through the process of communication, (3) indexical, and (4) never saturated. The connectedness between context and discourse has become apparent throughout the analysis of context above. Taking their shared domains of reference, that is, society, culture, language and cognition, as its base, a holistic conception of context differentiating between social and sociocultural context, linguistic context, and cognitive context is presented below.

2.1 Social and sociocultural context The research paradigm of ethnomethodology investigates the interactional organization of society. It represents a micro-sociological perspective, in which the indexicality of social action is of key importance. Ethnomethodology focuses on intersubjectivity and examines the questions of how separate individuals are able to know or act within a common world, and of how members (or participants) negotiate or achieve a common context: “in an interaction’s moment-to-moment development, the parties, singly and together, select and display in their conduct which of the indefinitely many aspects of context they are making relevant, or are invoking, for the immediate moment” (Schegloff 1987:â•›219). Here, common context is synonymous with social context. Social context is often considered to comprise the context of a communicative exchange and is defined by deducting linguistic context and cognitive context from a holistic conception of context. Constituents of social context are, for instance, participants, the immediate concrete, physical surroundings including time and location, and the macro-contextual institutional and non-institutional



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domains. In the holistic approach to context adopted here, social context is seen as an unmarked configuration of the micro- and macro-external domains, and its constituents, e.g. participants, time and location, are seen as unmarked entities. In a particular communicative exchange, however, unmarked social context and its constituents undergo a process of culture-dependent specification. For instance, participants and their ethnic and gendered identities are conceptualized in accordance with culture-specific constraints as prototypical representatives of female-gendered or male-gendered categories. This also holds for culture-specific qualifications of time and location as monolithic or multi-dimensional. Hence, sociocultural context is a specification of the superordinate construct of social context and its constituents. In discourse, social and sociocultural context are imported through conventional means and through particularized context-dependent means. Prototypical representatives of the former are deictic devices, such as person deixis �concerned with discourse-internal and discourse-external participants, time deixis dealing with discourse-internal and discourse-external time, for instance coding time and receiving time, and metalinguistic tense and language tense, place deixis concerned with discourse-internal and discourse-external location and the corresponding personal, social and cultural attitudes connected with location, discourse deixis considering the structure and sequential organization of discourse as well as textual coherence, e.g., discourse connectives and other cohesive devices, and social deixis concerned with social relations, e.g., terms of endearment and honorifics. Naturally, these deictic devices are context-dependent and dynamic, and that is why the domains of references for time, location, and person change in accordance with their local and global contexts of use.

2.2 Linguistic context Linguistic context comprises language use in discourse. Language is composed of linguistic constructions embedded in adjacent linguistic constructions composing a whole clause, sentence, utterance, turn or text. Thus, linguistic context or cotext (de Beaugrande and Dressler 1981) denotes a relational construct composed of local and global adjacency relations. In the viewpoint adopted here, the connectedness between a ‘textual part’ and other ‘textual parts’ constituting a text (or: the whole) is looked upon analogously to Searle’s conception of regulative rules and constitutive rules (Searle 1969). That is to say, the rule-governed realization of textual parts in context constitutes an utterance act thus counting as a move within the game of producing and interpreting discourse units composed of utterance acts, which are a constitutive part of illocutionary acts.

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The production and interpretation of textual parts is based on language’s constitutive parts of syntax, morphology, phonology, semantics, and pragmatics. While syntax is composed of structural units, for instance constituents and phrases, it is the linear ordering of the parts within a sequence which constitutes their grammatical function. The adverb really, for instance, realizes the grammatical function of a sentence adverbial with wide scope in the utterance really, that man is weird while it is assigned the grammatical function of the adverbial of a subjunct with narrow scope in that man is really weird. Thus, it is not the linguistic part as such which is assigned a grammatical function. Rather, it is the positioning of a part within a sequence which assigns it a grammatical function. The relational nature of linguistic context is also reflected in a sentence’s Â�topological units of pre-field, middle-field, and post-field, and their respective sub-fields, which are also conceived of in relational terms thus counting as further constitutive parts in the construction of a discourse unit. For instance, a change in the canonical word order SVO in English in the utterance Paul hugged Sarah to a non-canonical OSV Sarah Paul hugged with stress on initial O does not change the propositional meaning of the utterance. From a discursive viewpoint, however, the fronting of the object signifies a contrastive set. That is, the speaker intends the message that Paul hugged Sarah while at the same time implicating that Paul did not hug other not-named, but presupposed members of the contrastive set, for instance John, Sue or Lisa.

2.3 Cognitive context In a pragmatics-based theory of context anchored to the premises of intentionality of communicative action (Cohen, Morgan and Pollack 1992, Grice 1975) and to the premise of indexicality of communicative action (Gumperz 1992), cognitive context is indispensable. Bateson (1972) conceives context along the lines of the gestalt-psychologicalÂ� distinction between figure and ground and the related concepts of frame and framing. A frame is seen as a delimiting device which “is (or delimits) a class or set of messages (or meaningful actions)” (Bateson 1972:â•›187). Because of its delimiting function, “psychological frames are exclusive, i.e. by including certain messages (or meaningful actions) within a frame, certain other messages are excluded” and they are “inclusive, i.e. by excluding certain messages certain others are included” (Bateson 1972:â•›187). The apparent contradiction is eradicated by the introduction of set theory’s differentiation between set and non-set, which€– like figure and ground – are not symmetrically related. To use Bateson’s own words: “[p]erception of the ground must be positively inhibited and perception of the figure […] must be positively enhanced” (Bateson1972:â•›187). This leads him to



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the conclusion that the concept of frame is metacommunicative, which also holds for context. Or in his own words: “the hypothesis depends upon the idea that this structured context also occurs within a wider context – a metacontext if you will€– and that this sequence of contexts is an open, and conceivably infinite, series” (Bateson 1972:â•›245). The conception of context as a potentially infinite series of layers has also been adopted in cognitive pragmatics as is reflected in the relevance-theoreticÂ� conception of context. Thus, cognitive context is a structured, multilayered construct which is indispensable for language processing and inferencing. The Â�nature of the connectedness between its constitutive layers and subsystems is meta-communicativeÂ� and meta-systemic.

2.4 Context invocation and context importation The previous sections have examined the nature of the connectedness between context and discourse and have pointed out their dual status and embeddedness: context contains discourse, and discourse contains context. However, it is not just a simple container-contained relation. Rather, context is imported into discourse, and context is invoked in discourse. While the former stresses the discourse producer’s strategic importation of context at a particular stage in discourse, the latter highlights the taken-for-grantedness of the embeddedness of discourse in context and at the same time demonstrates that particular types of discourses and discourse genres, such as a political discourse and a political interview, invoke a particular context, e.g., institutional contexts and mediacommunication contexts (cf. Schegloff 1992). Context may also be entextualized, assigning the unbounded entity of context the status of a bounded object (Park and Bucholtz 2009). Context is imported into discourse through conventional means, for instance deictic devices, quotations, and generalized implicatures, and through more particularized means, for instance contextualization cues and particularized conversational implicatures. There is no well-formed discourse without deictic devices, for instance person deixis, viz., speaker / writer, addressee / reader and audience, time deixis, viz., now and then, coded time and receiving time, and linguistic tense and metalinguistic tense, place deixis, viz., here and there, discourse deixis, viz., above, below and in the following, and social deixis, viz., pronouns of power and solidarity, and honorifics. While there is generally a direct kind of mapping operation between a conventional sort of context importation with deictic expressions and their domains of reference, the type of context imported tends to be multilayered going beyond the monolithic categories of person, time, place and discourse, as will be examined more thoroughly in Section 4.

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Context importation through non-conventional means, such as contextualization cues and particularized conversational implicatures, is a less determinate endeavour. In interactional sociolinguistics, contextualization is seen as a basic premise in natural-language communication, in which indexical tokens are assigned values. The local meaning of the prominent, purely functional indexical token of contextualization cue is calculated through conversational inference based on local context and more and less fixed co-occurrences. Conversational inference is a local and global cognitive operation. Local inferences are performed in accordance with the Gricean conversational implicature (Grice 1975), and global inferences are anchored to the category of discourse genre or activity type (Levinson 1979, Prevignano and di Luzio 2003). They are calculated with respect to the level of turn-talking and exchange, the participants’ rights and obligations specified by speech-act-theoretic felicity conditions, allowable contributions and topics, and style and register. To use Thibault’s words: “genres are types. But they are types in a rather peculiar way. Genres do not specify the lexicogrammatical resources of word, phrase, clause, and so on. Instead, they specify the typical ways in which these are combined and deployed so as to enact the typical semiotic action formations of a given community” (Thibault 2003:â•›44). In the following, the theory and practice of context invocation and context importation is examined in the discourse type of political discourse, considering the monologic discourse genre of political speech and the dialogic genre of political interview.

3.

Political discourse in context

Political discourse is a particular discourse type, which comprises public discourse, institutional discourse, and media discourse. Political discourse in the media is an important means for ordinary people to encounter politics (LauerbachÂ� and Fetzer 2007). This is particularly true of political debates and interviews, in which political information is transmitted in dialogue-anchored forms. Against this background, political interviews provide the opportunity, first, to translate politics, which has been frequently conceptualized as a macro-structural phenomenon, into text and talk (Chilton and Schäffner 2002); second, to transfer macro-domain oriented politics to the micro domain; and third, to personify party-political programmes, agendas, and ideologies. Furthermore, the dialogic nature of the genre allows for the presentation of symbolic politics (Sarcinelli 1987) as a language game composed of questions and answers, in which the politician’s and journalist’s argumentation and their underlying reasoning and negotiation of meaning are made



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explicit. This sort of contextualization facilitates and supports the comprehension of macro-politics, making it more accessible to the general public. Interviews in general and political interviews in particular are a prevalent discourse genre, which provides its agents with the opportunity to perform political actions in the public, mediatized arena. Politicians can go on air and make their party-political programmes and agendas public. Journalists can go on air and demonstrate their professional skills by asking precise questions and critical follow-up questions. Within the discourse genre, the constitutive agents can perform a number of different, if not diverging roles: they can be politicians and journalists, members of parliament and members affiliated with particular media institutions, members or shadow members of government; they can be persuasive rhetoricians, eloquent media figures, caring family persons or simply goodlookingÂ� and entertaining people. Political speeches do not allow for that kind of diversity because of their predominantly monologic configuration. In a political speech, the politician is the prime agent, and it is her / his job to portray herself / himself in the most appropriate and best possible manner. This genre allows politicians to be almost completely in control of how they choose to present themselves in different contexts and in different roles: they can choose which roles and social agents they intend to foreground, and how they intend to contextualize and entextualize politics. It is the audience who may either accept the politician’s performance by applauding at the invited stages in discourse with the appropriate duration and intensity. They may, however, also choose not to applaud at the invited location and they may choose not to employ the appropriate duration and intensity. In the latter case, the politician may find herself / himself almost out of control. Political parties tend to focus on the production of politics, which takes place behind the scenes, while politicians tend to focus on its presentation, which takes place in the public stage. On that stage, public agents co-construct, negotiate, contextualize, and entextualize politics, and it is the job of a politician to use all possible opportunities inherent in the contextual constraints and requirements of mass media to present her / his political agenda in a credible and responsible manner to a heterogeneous audience, whose members are potential voters.

3.1 Data The data under investigation comprise 29 full-length dyadic political interviews (178,712 words) with leading British politicians from the Labour Party, from the Conservatives, and from the Liberal Democrats, and 16 political speeches, viz., party political addresses, containing 60,356 words delivered by leading British politicians, as listed in the Appendix in Tables 4 and 5.

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Context and its sub-systems of social context, cognitive context, sociocultural context, and linguistic context are accommodated explicitly in the analysis, which leads to a further differentiation between generalized default-context constraints and particularized context-dependent constraints. The former comprise the following constraints: – The social context of the data at hand is institutional discourse, more particularly media discourse with a written-to-be-spoken scenario for the speeches, and impromptu for the face-to-face interviews. – The cognitive context of the data at hand comprises the cognitive systems of the first-frame interaction, that is, the direct face-to-face interactants of interviewer, interviewee, and a possible studio audience, and political leader and her / his direct audience, and the cognitive systems of the second-frame, mediated audience who may be watching the broadcasted speeches and interviews on TV or through other kinds of digital media. – The sociocultural context is constrained by British conventions for the interactional organisation of discourse identities, discursive style, turn-taking forms of allowable contributions, production and interpretation of meaning as well as its negotiation, as is captured by the constraint of neutralism (GreatbatchÂ� 1986) for political interviews, which has been re-analysed and refined, covering not only the turn-taking mechanism but also the interactional organisation of discourse identity and discursive style (Fetzer 2000). Contrary to political interviews, political speeches do not need to be in accordance with the sociocultural-context constraint of neutrality. Rather, they are produced in order to promote party-political ideologies, party-political opinions as well as the politician’s personal opinions. – The linguistic context or co-text comprises all of the utterances produced by the ratified speakers, viz., politicians and interviewers. While the social context is seen as an unmarked kind of context which undergoes culture-specific particularization and therefore has already accommodated context-dependent constraints in its default configuration as sociocultural context, cognitive context, sociocultural context, and linguistic context may undergo some further particularization, comprising the following aspects: – The cognitive context of the first- and second-frame participants may undergo some particularization due to momentary or continuous inattentiveness of one or more of the ratified participants. – The sociocultural context may undergo some particularization due to local deviations in the turn-taking mechanism, e.g., interviewee or member of the audience taking over the interviewer role, discourse topic, e.g., questions and



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answers anchored to the private domains of the participants, and production and interpretation of particularized meaning, e.g., irony and other kinds of ambiguities, in the interviews (cf. Fetzer 2000, 2006). In the political speeches, the speaker may be interrupted by uninvited contributions produced by members of the audience, or she or he may opt for neutralism, thus infringing on the constraint of promoting party-political ideologies. – The linguistic context may not only comprise the utterances of the speakers but also other allowable local contributions composed of language and other semiotic codes, such as banners. The focus of this contribution is on the communicative function of the indexical here in two different, but related, discourse genres, comparing and contrasting it with its complementary counterpart there. They share the social context of institutional discourse but have different participation formats. The cognitive context and the corresponding local and global inferencing processes are more diverse, as is the linguistic context, which is determined by a highly interactive mode and a written-to-be-spoken mode. Thus, context is co-constructed and negotiated directly in the interviews, whereas it is negotiated in a less immediate manner in the speeches. In the following, the distribution of the indexicals here and there is examined, considering their frequency and co-occurrences.

3.2 Genre-specific analysis The quantitative analysis of the distribution of the indexical expressions here and there in the speeches and interviews shows some similarities, but also a number of differences, as is systematized in Table 1. In both genres, the existential thereconstruction has been excluded from the analysis, while the pre-fabricated syntagmatic configurations neither here nor there, out there and from here to there have been included. This is because the deictic expressions are seen as referring to some local domain. Patterned co-occurrences (double co-occurrences, e.g. time deixis and place deixis, and multiple co-occurrences, e.g., time deixis, place deixis, deictic verb and person deixis) have been counted twice or multiply. Co-occurrences with place deixis include metaphorical configurations, e.g., discursive locations. . In Standard English, place deixis is anchored to the indexical expressions here, signifying proximity, and there, signifying distance. This is not the case in a number of regional varieties which differentiate between distal there, proximal here, and the in-between value yonder. A detailed and thorough contrastive analysis of place deictic expressions can be found in Jungbluth (this volume).

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Table 1.╇ Quantitative analysis of here and there Speeches 60,356 words Interviews 178,712 words

Here

There

â•⁄ 60 (9.94‰₀)

â•⁄ 26 (4.30‰₀)

141 (7.88‰₀)

132 (7.38‰₀)

In the speeches, here (9.94 tokens per 10,000 words) is more than twice as frequent as its distal counterpart there (4.30 tokens per 10,000 words). This is not the case in the interviews, where here (7.88 tokens per 10,000 words) is slightly more frequent than there (7.38 tokens per 10,000 words). The higher frequency of the deictic expression there in the interviews may be due to the fact that in some of the interviews, members of the audience were allowed to ask questions, and the indexical form fulfilled an important interactional function in those contexts. The distribution of here and there across genres also displays some differences. While here is more frequent in the speeches (9.94 tokens per 10,000 words compared to 7.88 tokens per 10,000 words), there is more frequent in the interviews (7.38 tokens per 10,000 words compared to 4.30 tokens per 10,000 words). There are also genre-specific co-occurrences for here and there, as is systematized in Table 2 for here and in Table 3 for there: Table 2.╇ Co-occurrences for here Here + deictic verb Here + time deixis Here + I Here + we Here + you Here + bounded local object Here + miscellaneous

Speeches

Interview

â•⁄ 5 (0.82‰₀) â•⁄ 7 (1.15‰₀) 11 (1.82‰₀) 11 (1.82‰₀) â•⁄ 1 (0.16‰₀) 52 (8.61‰₀) â•⁄ 2 (0.33‰₀)

â•⁄ 15 (0.83‰₀) â•⁄ 11 (0.61‰₀) â•⁄ 14 (0.78‰₀) â•⁄ 19 (1.06‰₀) â•⁄ 20 (1.11‰₀) 128 (7.16‰₀) â•⁄ 23 (1.28‰₀)

The most frequent co-occurrences of here in both speech and interview are [here + location]. The location may be directly adjacent, e.g., here at home, here in this room or here in Manchester, or it may be a constitutive part of the local context, which needs to be retrieved through inference. While here co-occurs most frequently with singular and plural self-references in the speeches (1.82 tokens per 10,000 words in the speeches for I and we, 0.78 tokens per 10,000 words for I, and 1.06 tokens per 10,000 words for we in the interviews), here co-occurs most frequently with other-reference viz., you, in the interviews (1.11



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tokens per 10,000 words in the interviews and 0.16 tokens per 10,000 words in the speeches). Co-occurrences� with deictic verbs, e.g., come or arrive (0.82 tokens per 10,000 words in the speeches and 0.83 tokens per 10,000 words in the interviews), have an almost similar distribution across the genres. Miscellaneous uses of here and collocates include the phrases politics is here to stay, right here in action and its interactional use in the interviews (1.28 tokens per 10,000 words in the interviews and 0.33 tokens per 10,000 words in the speeches), regulating the allocation of turns. Analogously to the co-occurrences of here, the most frequent co-occurrences of there in both speech and interview are [there + location], followed by co-occurrences with person deixis, as is systematized in Table 3: Table 3.╇ Co-occurrences for there There + deictic verb There + time deixis There + I There + we There + you There + bounded local object There + miscellaneous

Speeches

Interview

â•⁄ 1 (0.16‰₀) â•⁄ 5 (0.82‰₀) â•⁄ 2 (0.33‰₀) 21 (3.47‰₀) â•⁄ 1 (0.16‰₀)

â•⁄â•⁄ 2 (0.11‰₀) â•⁄â•⁄ 5 (0.27‰₀) â•⁄ 25 (1.39‰₀) â•⁄ 18 (1.0‰₀) â•⁄ 25 (1.39‰₀) 127 (7.10‰₀) â•⁄ 12 (0.67‰₀)

Co-occurrences of [there + location] differ to here-based collocates in that the name of the location tends to be underspecified, e.g., out there or in there, or may be a constitutive part of the local and global context, which needs to be retrieved through inference. Contrary to the here-based collocates, there co-occurs most frequently with singular self-reference and other-reference in the interviews, viz., I (1.39 tokens per 10,000 words compared to 0.16 tokens per 10,000 words) and you (1.39 tokens per 10,000 words compared to 0.33 tokens per 10,000 words). Co-occurrences with plural self-references are distributed almost equally in the interviews and speeches (1.0 tokens per 10,000 words in the interviews and 0.83 tokens per 10,000 words in the speeches). Co-occurrences with deictic verbs and time deixis only occur in the interviews with 0.27 tokens per 10,000 words for time deixis and 0.11 tokens per 10,000 words for deictic verbs. Miscellaneous cases comprise the phrases there in a nutshell and there in a difference for both interviews and speeches and its interactional use in the interviews (0.67 tokens per 10,000 words in the interviews and 0.16 tokens per 10,000 words in the speeches), regulating the allocation of turns. In the following, the theory and practice of place deixis is examined more closely, and particular attention is given to its function in political discourse.

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4.

Place deixis: Here and there

The function of deixis and its linguistic realization as deictic expressions is to introduce “subjective, attentional, intentional and, of course, context-dependent properties into natural languages” (Levinson 2004:â•›97). These linguistic devices encode specific aspects of the communicative event and cannot be interpreted unless context is taken into account. Context may be imported through nonconventional means, e.g., contextualization cues (Gumperz 1992), it may be imported through conventional means, e.g., deictic expressions referring to place, time or person, or it may be entextualized. The expression of place deixis through conventional means in English is done with diverse indexical forms, e.g., here, yonder, there, above, below, over, under and up and below. The focus of the analysis of strategic importation of context in political discourse is on the communicative function of the indexical forms here and there. The communicative function of here, which may be paraphrased as ‘at this place’, is to denote “a region of space by indicating that this region is proximal (or otherwise immediate) to the place in which the form is uttered” (Hanks 1992:â•›47). As indexical deixis, here grounds reference to origo in the communicative event, and as relational deixis, here signs relation to origo, denoting a region of space which is immediate to you, the addressee(s) (cf. Hanks 1992:â•›52). The relational nature of the indexical forms here and there, relating space, time and participant, is also pointed out by Marmaridou (2000:â•›86): The significance of place deixis in utterances cannot be over-emphasized. It largely stems from two facts: first, given the egocentricity of deixis in general, a speaker is an entity in space and, as such, her utterances are produced in that space. Thus, participant roles, their social identification and their construction in and through discourse are inscribed in space. Second, to the extent that the speaker’s locution may be different in different times, place deixis automatically incorporates a temporal aspect of the speech event.

As a communicative event is always anchored to space and time, the indexical form here is a relational term, relating the participants of the communicative event to some kind of negotiated ‘common space’ and to some kind of negotiated ‘common time’. While here denotes a region of space which is immediate to you, there denotes a region of space which is non-immediate to you and me. Analogously to here, there is also relational, relating participants, place, and time. In discourse, here and there may not only refer to particular domains located in the social / sociocultural context but also to particular domains located in the linguistic context, expressing discourse deixis. In that setting, there fulfils an anaphoric function, and here realizes a particular kind of cataphoric reference.



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Place deictic expressions do not only refer to physical domains located in the social / sociocultural and linguistic context. “[P]lace deixis also relates to spatial orientations of physical objects in terms of perceived asymmetries of their forms” (Marmaridou 2000:â•›91). That means that here and there not only index domains in time and space but also may express the speaker’s attitude towards those domains, which is implicit in Levinson’s claim above that deixis introduces subjective properties to the discourse. Hence, speakers’ references to space and time may refer to actual space and actual time, and they may refer to epistemic space and epistemic time anchored to cognitive context. Deictic references to actual and epistemic time and space position the speaker in discourse. Because of the multilayered and multi-dimensional nature of time and place, the positioning of speaker cannot always be determinate. This is because the “referential and indexical poles in the deictic relation are not coordinate, but are actually in a foreground-background relation. The referent (denotatum) is the figure and the indexical origo is the ground“(Hanks 1992:â•›57). This original conception of referential and indexical poles in a figure-ground anchored frame of reference is analogous to the conceptualization of context in social psychology (e.g., Bateson 1972, Goffman 1986). It allows us to capture the dynamics of deictic reference in a more fine-grained manner. This is due to the characteristic feature of the dichotomy of figure and ground, namely that the “discreteness, individuation, definiteness and singularity that are the hallmarks of deictic reference are all typical figure characteristics. The diffuseness, variability, and background character of the indexical origo are due to its being, in fact, the ground upon which the referential figure is defined” (Hanks 1992:â•›60–61). The dual reference of deictic expressions referring to actual and epistemic domains also holds for person deixis, viz., speaker, addressee and audience, to name but the most prominent ones, as is reflected in the co-occurrence of deictic expressions referring to time, place and person. As a consequence of that, place and time receive personal and interpersonal colourings, expressing personal and interpersonal place and time and the participants’ attitudes, opinions and feelings about places and time. Place and time may also receive social colourings as social places and social time, and as geographical places (van Dijk 2009). Deictic reference is not only realized through indexical expressions. It is also a constitutive part of the meaning of deictic verbs. Against this background, come is classified as a goal-oriented verb and go as a source-oriented verb.

. I would like to thank Kasia Jaszczolt for pointing out the epistemic dimension of spatial reference.

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Deictic expressions do not only import context and invoke context, they may also entextualize context. In the following, the quantitative analysis of here and there and of their co-occurrences is supplemented by a qualitative investigation, accounting for their communicative function in context.

4.1 Here in context The deictic expression here is more frequent in the speeches with 9.94 tokens per 10,000 words than in the interviews with 7.88 tokens per 10,000. This is due to the genre-specific communicative situation of a party-political address, in which the speaker needs to construe the interpersonal space anchored to speaker and audience more frequently, indexing particular contextual frames, e.g., here at this stage in discourse, here at this particular location, or in a more metaphorical manner, here in this political party. The employment of here with and without further linguistic specification allows her / him to express subjectivity on the one hand, grounding reference to origo, while on the other hand denoting a region of space which is immediate to you, the addressee(s), thereby speaker-intending to construe a common social space as well as expressing interpersonal alignment. The construal of social space may be done with pre-fabricated syntagmatic configurations, which occur in both interviews and speeches, such as here we are, focusing on a shared social space, or by neither here nor there, signifying an alternative social space, or from here to there, indicating a movement from speaker and audience. In the following subsections, the most frequent co-occurrences of here and there are examined, paying particular attention to their interpersonal functions.

4.1.1 Here + deictic verb in local context There is an almost even distribution of the co-occurrence of here with a deictic verb in the speeches and interviews with 0.82 tokens per 10,000 words in the speeches and 0.83 tokens per 10,000 words in the interviews. The deictic verbs employed are come, which is the most frequent one, arrive and bring, indexing a movement towards the speaker, thus speaker-intending the construal of a common social space in the examples (1) to (3), and leave in example (4), indexing a movement away from the speaker and hearer, construing a shared common social space which at the same time is being dis-construed: . The focus of the analysis is on the distribution and function of the indexical forms here and there. To facilitate readability, the transcription mode employed here adheres to orthographic conventions. Relevant cues for the analysis are printed in italics, and the indexical here and its collocates are printed in bold italics. In the data analysis, the use of personal pronouns is in accordance with natural gender.



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(1) Conservatism must once again become the language of hope: hope for those who live in poverty in our inner cities, hope for the immigrants who come here and settle, hope for all those communities left behind and forgotten.  (2005h) (2) So what is the maximum time between an asylum seeker arriving here, being processed and then if there is an appeal, finding whether the appeal is won or lost? What’s the maximum time when you take over?  (2001d PEI) (3) We have unemployment here at erm around six percent and falling, they have unemployment in Germany at over eleven percent, in France at over twelve percent in Spain and Italy, and other countries even higher, and they have the social model that the Labour Party admire and would wish to bring here and the trade unions want it here too because much of it would give back to the trade unions many of the things they lost.  (1997d PEI) (4) So fantastic results. Fantastic results. Each and every one. And when you leave herei, when you leave Bournemouthi make sure your next stop is Hartlepool.  (2004b)

In the local context of deictic verbs, the indexical form here is used to import context, viz., a common social space, in order to align with the audience or with a particular subset of the audience in both the political interviews and speeches. This is the case in (1) and (2), in which MH and WH index a shared social space and intend their interlocutors, in particular liberal conservatives, to construe a common social space, viz., a conservative and liberal Britain. In (3), JM imports a particular type of context with which he, his government and possibly the rest of Britain, viz., we, align while at the same time contrasting that common social space with another one, which is distal to himself and his interlocutors, ‘there’, viz., Germany, France, Spain, and other socialist/social-democratic countries. In the Examples (1) to (3), the local context of here provides enough contextual cues to interpret its domain of reference as Britain. In (4), context is also imported through the place deictic expression here, construing a common social space with the audience, who are referred to explicitly by the person-deictic term you, focusing on the interpersonal dimension of social space. Whereas the referential domain of here has been implicit in (1) to (3), it is made explicit in (4), being coreferential with Bournemouth. This strategy of making explicit the referential domain of an indexical expression is referred to as entextualization, assigning an . The use of ’entextualization’ in this contribution differs from the one promoted by Park and Bucholtz (2009), which define entextualization primarily in terms of institutional control and ideology. It shares their stance of approaching entextualization in terms of “conditions inherent in the transposition of discourse from one context into another” (2009:â•›489), while considering both local and global contexts.

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unbounded referential domain (or an unbounded object) the status of a bounded referential domain (or a bounded object).

4.1.2 Here + time deixis in local context The co-occurrence of time and place deixis is almost twice as frequent in the speeches with 1.15 tokens per 10,000 words in the speeches and 0.61 tokens per 10,000 words in the interviews. The most frequent collocate of here in the speeches is the time deictic expressions now. Here occurs also often in the pre-fabricated syntagmatic configuration here and now, and with the proximal adverbials tonight and today, thereby speaker-intending the construal not only of a common social space but also of a common temporal frame of reference. While the speakers import context through the collocate here + deictic verb, intending their interlocutors to construe a common social space, and may even entextualize the imported context by spelling out the spatial referential domain and assigning it the status of a bounded object, the co-occurrence of place deictic here and time deixis achieves a different outcome. In (5), the syntagmatic configuration here and now anchors the communicators, which are referred to the person-deictic terms I and you, to the actual communicative situation, thereby construing a shared common context. In (6) and (7), the indexical form here co-occurs with the temporal deictic forms today and tonight and with the person-deictic terms I and you and we, signifying the temporal dimension of the literally shared common social space, viz., the partyconference centre in (6) and the television studio in (7): (5) Erm, do you know exactly exactly what your cabinet will, you may not announce it all here and now, I agree but do you know who you’re going to appoint to everything.  (1997h PEI) (6) If anyone here today thinks that we can just sit tight and wait for the pendulum to swing back to the Conservatives – think again.  (2005h) (7) Mr Prime Minister, I- I instinctively believe you’re a good person, and-  otherwise I wouldn’t be here tonight, and I think you care about people and you have compassion.  (2001b PEI)

The co-occurrence of here with temporal-deictic forms in the political data at hand anchors the particular stage in discourse to the here and now. The literal ‘now’ may be extended to cover a day, week, month, and possibly a year. The proximity inherent in the deictic form here needs to be a constitutive part of the local meaning of the temporal-deictic form. As has already surfaced, here frequently co-occurs with indexical references to the face-to-face interactants, as is examined more thoroughly below.



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4.1.3 Here + person deixis in local context The co-occurrence of person-deictic and place-deictic terms is almost twice as frequent with first-person self-references with 1.82 tokens per 10,000 words for both singular and plural self-references in the speeches than with first-person-singular self-references in the interviews with 0.78 tokens and with first-personÂ� plural selfreferences in the interviews with 1.06 tokens per 10,000 words. Â�Second-person references are far more frequent in the interviews with 1.11 tokens per 10,000 words compared to 0.16 tokens per 10,000 words in the speeches. The uneven distribution of person-deictic terms across the two genres is primarily due to the monologic setting of the speeches, which requires self-referencing as well as explicit other-referencing, exploiting the inherently unbounded referential domain of you, and the dialogic setting of the interviews, where both other-referencesÂ� and self-references are a constitutive part of the language game. In the two genres, the pre-fabricated syntagmatic configurations here I am and here we are are employed, thereby importing context in a strategic manner, intending the interlocutors to construe a common social space. In (8) and (9), here imports context into the ongoing discourse, denoting a particular situation in which British hooligans may become involved in some kind of fight and in which picketing may be allowed. In both extracts, the placedeictic term here co-occurs with the person-deictic term we in the context of epistemic modality in (8) and in the context of unbounded progressive aspect in (9); the speaker thereby intends the interlocutors to construe an epistemic space in which the scenario under discussion is represented. In (10), here co-occurs with the self-reference in my view, attributing subjectivity to the utterance, and the generic other-reference you in the context of epistemic modality, again speakerintending the interlocutors to construe an epistemic space in which the scenario under discussion is represented. In (11), here co-occurs with the person-deictic term you used to address the communication partner whose institutional position is entextualized as Prime Minister. In contrast to the extracts above, here does not occur in the local context of epistemic modality and therefore does not intend the interlocutors to construe an epistemic space. Rather, it occurs in the context of a factual predication, viz., be here, intending the interlocutors to construe a factual social space, viz., the TV studio: (8) No what we’ve got to do here it is we’ve got to make it absolutely clear all the way through that we must deter the hooligans from becoming involved in fighting.  (1990h OTR) (9) Yes it would mean the type of situation we’re talking about here is that in general terms at the moment under the law you can picket only your own place at work.  (1990g OTR)

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(10) Now in my view you have to strike a balance here and you have to strike a balance because employers should not be dragged into a dispute over which they had no control and no connection.  (1990g OTR) (11) And erm would you as you look at your position today. You’re here as the Prime Minister and so on. Would you describe yourself in this context on this Sunday morning with three and a bit weeks to go. Would you describe yourself as oddly enough almost the challenger the underdog. Are you the underdog?  (1997d PEI)

In the data at hand, the co-occurrence of the spatial-deictic term here with �persondeictic terms may refer to an actual social space in context, and it may refer to an epistemic social space. To felicitously construe the latter, the local linguistic context needs to contain expressions of epistemic modality. In the following, the speaker-intended construal of social space is examined more closely, considering in particular its entextualization.

4.1.4 Here + bounded local object in context The co-occurrence of the place-deictic term here with an entextualized, bounded object is distributed in an almost even manner across the two genres with 8.61 tokens per 10,000 words in the speeches and 7.16 tokens per 10,000 words in the interviews, and the collocates of here are also of a very similar nature, e.g., at home, in Britain, in Blackpool or in this room. As regards frequency and distribution of here-anchored co-occurrences, the bounded-object collocate has the highest frequency in both interviews and speeches. This may be because of the subjectivizing dimension of the place-deictic form and because of its interpersonal function, supporting the joint construal of a common social space. To achieve that, unbounded here is specified by its co-occurrence with a particular location and thereby recontextualized as a bounded object. The construal of a common social space and of assigning an unbounded social space the status of a bounded object is of particular relevance to argumentation, as is reflected in the following examples. In (12), the referential domain of the unbounded place-deictic term here is specified by the social space ‘Britain’ and thus recontextualized as a bounded object, thus construing a common social space. The inherent interpersonal dimension is supported by the co-occurring first-person-plural self-references and the common values and goals reflected in the predication ‘we hold dear’, ‘we should‘, and ‘we do’, and the reference to ‘all our citizens’. In (13), the politician connects events of ‘terrible seriousness’ abroad with an event of ‘terrible seriousness’ in the local context: ‘terrorism at home’. While the referential domain of the place-deictic term is specified, the semantics



Strategic context importation in political discourse 135

of the unbounded object ‘here at home’ still leaves quite some room for interpretation. ‘Home’ can denote some kind of ‘national home’, viz., Britain, or some kind of more ‘local home’, such as counties, cities or even houses. Unlike (12) and (13), in which the co-occurrence of place-deictic here with a social space recontextualizes an unbounded entity into a bounded object, the co-occurrence of here with a social space in (14) is not an instance of entextualization but one of anaphoric reference. In this extract, the collocate here at home is co-referential with in Britain. That is, here occupies the social space Britain, attributing an interpersonal dimension to it which is connected with the speaker, the liberal democrat, while at the same time indicating a contrast between him and the then British Prime Minister Tony Blair ‘out there’: (12) And to demonstrate to Muslims here in Britain that these are values we hold dear and apply to all our citizens, we should and change the law to make religious discrimination unlawful as we do with race, gender and disability.  (2004c) (13) It’s remarkable the pace of events since that General Election. Some events of the most immediate and terrible seriousness, like the awful consequences of the hurricane in the United States. The continuing nightmare in Iraq. And of course, terrorism, here at home.  (2005d) (14) They have served there with distinction, courage and skill. After all the other arguments collapsed over Iraq, Tony Blair fell back into saying that it was essential to help establish democracy. It would have been a damn sight more persuasive if he’d started in Britaini first here at homei that’s what I say.  (2005d)

From a formal perspective, the co-occurrence of the place-deictic term here with a linguistic expression denoting a social space can be considered as an instance of entextualization. On closer examination of collocates in context, however, we need to differentiate between instances of entextualization and instances of anaphoric reference. Entextualizing unbounded here and assigning it the status of a bounded object is only possible if here is not co-referential with another locative expression in context. Analogously to the co-occurrences of here with deictic verbs, time-deictic and person-deictic expressions, its co-occurrence with a bounded local object fulfils primarily an interpersonal function. In the following, the distribution, collocates and function of the there, the place-deictic counterpart of here, are examined, considering its co-occurrences with deictic verbs, time-deictic and person-deictic expressions, and with bounded local objects.

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4.2 There in context The place-deictic term there denotes a region of space which is non-immediateÂ� to you and me. Analogously to here, there is relational, relating participants, place, and time. It is more frequent in the interviews with 7.38 tokens per 10,000 words than in the speeches with 4.30 tokens per 10,000. This is due to the genrespecificÂ� communicative situation of a political interview, which contains longer Â�negotiation-of-meaning sequences. In those contexts, there generally fulfills a discourse-deictic, anaphoric function, indexing particular contextual frames (or metaphorical social spaces), e.g., there at that stage in discourse, there at that particular location, thus not importing context, technically speaking, but rather re-activating contextual frames which have already been construed by the interlocutors. In discourse, the employment of there with and without further linguistic specification allows a speaker express subjectivity on the one hand, grounding reference to origo, while on the other hand denoting a region of space which is non-immediate to you and me, thereby speaker-intending the interactants to construe or re-construe a common social space, and at the same time expressing different degrees of alignment. In the political-discourse data, the construal of metaphorical and non-metaphorical social space is done with pre-fabricated syntagmatic configurations, such as out there, ‘x’ points there or the point you’re making there is just wrong, focusing on a shared social space non-immediate to both speaker and addressee. In the following subsections, the most frequent co-occurrences of there are examined, paying particular attention to their interpersonal functions.

4.2.1 There + deictic verb in local context Place-deictic there-anchored co-occurrences with a deictic verb are only found in the interviews with 0.11 tokens per 10,000 words. The deictic verbs employed are go and send, implying a movement away from the speaker and addressee towards some distal social space, speaker-intending the interlocutors to construe that social space, as is the case in (15) and (16): (15) But but let us be quite clear I happen to be a person who was very proud to be a member of this government. A lot of this governments’ policies I played a part in designing and implementing. And the one thing I know is that the 1990s are going to require an extension of this government’s policies. No question of reversing them so I don’t go out there to apologise for Tory policies.  (1990a OTR)



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(16) You have what you call a removal’s agency, a term more often used for furniture rather than human beings, but so be it, which you say would quickly support those who were not accepted. You must know surely that very many of those who are not accepted in fact can’t get home because the countries to which they are going are not safe enough to send there.  (2001d PEI)

While collocates comprising here + deictic verb are generally used to import context into the ongoing discourse, speaker-intending the interlocutors to construe a proximal common social space thereby implicating interpersonal solidarity, there-based collocates with a deictic verb implying movement away from speaker and addressee also import context, but a context not proximal to speaker and addressee. For this reason, they do not implicate solidarity, but rather detachment. In (15), the speaker distances himself from a prior proposition which claims that he does not agree with Tory policies, and in (16), the speaker distances himself from a position which promotes refugees to be sent back home to unsafe countries. Thus the strategic importation of context may imply not only interpersonal solidarity but also detachment. In the following, co-occurrences of the place-deictic term there with time deixis are examined more closely.

4.2.2 There + time deixis in local context Time-deictic terms co-occurring with there are also only found in the interviews with 0.27 tokens per 10,000 words. In the data at hand, there co-occurs with the time deictic expressions last time, recently, and today, speaker-intending not only the construal of a common social space but also of a common temporal frame of reference. While the speakers import context through the collocate there + deictic verb, speaker-intending the construal of a common social space, the cooccurrence� of place deictic there and time deixis achieves a different outcome. In (17), the co-occurrence of there with last time is a constitutive part of a predication in the simple past, importing a common social space anchored to the past, thus reinforcing the implied spatial and temporal detachment. In (18) and (19), the indexical form there co-occurs with the temporal deictic forms today and recently. In both co-occurrences, there is an implicit tension between distal there and proximal today and proximal recently, thus importing competing contextual frames. Here, the speaker intends his addressee to construe a particular social space which is both distal and proximal and therefore of relevance to the ongoing discourse. Moreover, there are first-person-singular deictic terms (e.g., I and my serious concerns) in both (18) and (19), attributing subjectivity to the utterances:

138 Anita Fetzer

(17) It was there last time and it’s for many Liberal Democrats. 

(1997h PEI)

(18) It is a specific case, but because it was- it was there today, I- I- I did actually ask for a briefing on what was happening in relation to bone marrow donors, and they do, so they- so they say to me, actually ask the donors who come as blood donors whether they would be willing to give bone marrow samples.  (1997f PEI) (19) Yes great progress has been made this week when I recently went there they listened very carefully to my serious concerns about the link between excessive drinking and hooliganism.  (1990h OTR)

Co-occurring spatial- and temporal-deictic terms may be realized as congruent configurations, viz., distal or proximal, speaker-intending the interlocutors to construe a common social space and a common temporal contextual frame implying interpersonal solidarity if the deictic terms are of a proximal nature, or detachment if the deictic terms are of a distal nature. Incongruent configurations of spatial- and temporal deictic terms may generate a conversational implicature, speaker-intending the interlocutors to construe a common social space and temporal contextual frame which is of relevance to the ongoing discourse. In the latter setting, place- and temporal-deictic terms tend to co-occur with person deixis, which is examined more closely in the following.

4.2.3 There + person deixis in local context The co-occurrence of person-deictic terms with place-deictic terms is evenly distributed between first-person self-reference and second-person reference in the interviews with 1.39 tokens per 10,000 words; first-person-plural self-referencesÂ� are distributed with 1.0 tokens per 10,000 words in the interviews. In the speeches, the most frequent person-deictic reference is the first-person-plural self-referenceÂ� with 0.82 tokens per 10,000 words, followed by the second-person reference with 0.33 tokens and first-person self-reference with 0.16 tokens per 10,000 words. The uneven distribution of person-deictic terms across genres is primarily due to the monologic setting in the speeches, which requires self-referencing and which tends to have explicit other-referencing, and the dialogic setting in the interviews, where both other-references and self-references are a constitutive part of the language game. In the extracts (20)–(23), the place-deictic term there co-occurs with Â�persondeictic terms. In (20), the politician is referred to by a second-person reference, as well as by his title, co-occurring in a local context coloured by epistemic . Second-person references in English allow for indeterminate referential domains, such as generic reference as well as second-person singular and second-person plural references.



Strategic context importation in political discourse 139

Â� probability. Through the place-deictic term there, the speaker intends his interlocutors to re-activate and re-construe a contextual frame (or an epistemic space), which has already been construed, while at the same time distancing himself from that scenario. Contrary to (20), there imports context to the utterance in (21). By using the place-deictic term, the speaker intends his interlocutors to construe a common social space, in which he himself, referred to by a first-person selfreferenceÂ�, promises to perform a particular communicative action realized with epistemic prediction. The function of there co-occurring with first-person-plural reference in (22) is very similar to the one in (21): there also imports context. By using the deictic term, the speaker intends his interlocutors to construe a social space, in which all of the participants, viz., we and you, are included. Because of that degree of incongruity, that is, spatial detachment but personal involvedness, the speaker gets in an implicature, implicating that he is an asset to the conservative party. In (23), there is assigned the function of anaphoric reference, being co-referential with regional office: (20) You may have won half a vote there minister for saying that. That is old stuff now, to go back to the past.  (1990e OTR) (21) If colleagues want me to help them I will be there. And I have no doubt that given the the simplest choice of whether we want to see Mr. Kinnock erm replace Mrs. Thatcher.  (1990a OTR) (22) When Michael Howard when Michael Howard first met you he came back and he said to me: “when that woman gets into Parliament she’ll wipe the floor with the rest of you” [LAUGHTER] and that may be true but we need you there.  (2005a) (23) We already put into the political organisation of London. We’ve spent very large sums of money. We have a London regional officei and a general secretary therei and erm perhaps something like nine or ten full-time staff.  (1990c OTR)

In the data at hand, the co-occurrence of the place-deictic term there with persondeictic terms tends to refer to an epistemic space which has been mentioned and construed before and needs to be re-activated, thus fulfilling an anaphoric function. There in the local context of person-deictic terms may also import context to the ongoing discourse, intending the interlocutors to construe a particular social space from which the speakers (and the addressees in case of collective reference) distance themselves. In incongruous configurations, in which deictic terms

. This part of the utterance fulfills all of the necessary conditions to count as a promise, viz., self-reference and a reference to a future act of the speaker which is beneficial to the addressee.

140 Anita Fetzer

� express proximity and detachment, the speaker gets in a conversational implicature, implicating particularized meaning. In the following, the speaker-intended construal of distal social space is examined more closely, considering in particular its entextualization.

4.2.4 There + bounded local object in context The co-occurrence of the place-deictic term there with an entextualized, bounded object is distributed differently across the two genres with 3.47 tokens per 10,000 words in the speeches and 7.10 tokens per 10,000 words in the interviews. The collocates of there are, however, of a similar nature, e.g., at the table, at the press conference or in the x’s figures. As regards frequency and distribution of there-anchoredÂ� co-occurrences, the bounded-object collocates have the highest Â� frequency in both genres. This may be because of the dual status of there as anaphoric reference and as some kind of subjectivizing dimension with an interpersonal function, supporting the joint construal of a common social space while at the same time expressing detachment. To achieve the construal of a common social space, unbounded there is specified by linguistic devices denoting particular locations, thus entextualizing the inherently unbounded indexical as a bounded object. The re-activation of a contextual frame is reflected in (24), in which Iraq and there are co-referential. In extracts (25) to (30), the inherently unbounded referential domain of there is specified by bounded objects, thus assigning the collocate the status of a bounded object. This is the case in (25), where its referential domain is narrowed down to government’s figures, and in (26) and (27), where it is narrowed down to the press conference and the table. In (28), (29), and (30), the referential domain of there is narrowed down to the private sector, to schools, and to Downing Street: (24) Thousands have been killed in Iraqi since the elections therei. The UN mandate is running out.  (2005d) (25) Actually this is a declared policy of the government, so if it isn’t there in the government’s figures that’s a still bigger tax rise that you would have to have from the Labour Party.  (2001c PEI) (26) Well I was there at the press conference where you announced you were giving…  (1997e PRE) (27) I will be there at the table arguing and debating this matter. 

(1997d PEI)

(28) but if there are land and buildings there within the public sector that could be better transferred to the private sector why not there’s no difficulty in that.  (1997h PEI)



Strategic context importation in political discourse 141

(29) But I think people will know if the the the choice is there in schools because you’ve got decent good schools for people to choose from.  (1997i PEI) (30) when you’re in Government when you’re sitting there in Downing Street with these rather lonely responsibilities on your shoulders.  (1997i PEI)

As has been discussed above for the collocate here + bounded object, the cooccurrence� of place-deictic term there with a linguistic expression denoting an epistemic or metaphorical and a non-metaphorical social space can be considered as an instance of entextualization. Analogously to the results obtained for the analysis of here + bounded local object in context, we need to differentiate between instances of entextualization and instances of anaphoric reference. Entextualizing unbounded there and thereby assigning it the status of a bounded object is only possible if there is not co-referential with another locative expression in context. In the data at hand, entextualized there fulfills a primarily argumentative function, as is reflected in its co-occurrences with argumentative markers, such as so or because, statements with an evidential function, e.g., I was there or people will know, references to argumentative action, e.g., arguing and debating, and conditional clauses. As regards its function in context, there thus does not primarily import new context. Rather, the speaker intends the interlocutors to construe a common social or epistemic space, which has been implicit in the discourse and in which her/his arguments are valid. In the following, the context importation and context invocation of here and there in political discourse are summarized.

4.3 Here and there in political discourse Discourse comprises various deictic expressions and would seem unnatural, if not impossible without them. This is also true for political discourse. Context is imported through deictic devices, such as here and there, and context is invoked by deictic devices, e.g., here and there. Moreover, context may be foregrounded in discourse and be entextualized, assigning an unbounded entity the status of a bounded object. Furthermore, deictic expressions referring to the deictic origo, comprising person, time, and place, tend to co-occur, and they tend to be of a congruous nature, viz., deictic devices expressing proximity tend to co-occur with other deictic devices of a proximal nature, and deictic devices of a distal nature tend to co-occur with similar ones, as is the case in the following examples. In (31), proximal us co-occurs with proximal here in this room, in (32), proximal here in Bournemouth co-occurs with proximal this week, and in (33), proximal come here co-occurs with proximal we and today, speaker-intending the construal of a proximal context, while at the same time expressing solidarity and alignment:

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(31) There is only one group of people that can stop Gordon Brown – and it’s us here in this room.  (2005a) (32) And the message I’d like to send from us, is not so much as a family of Liberal Democrats who’ve been gathered here in Bournemouth this week.  (2005d) (33) So we come here today as a party with a purpose. It is to begin a great endeavour – nothing less than to make our Conservative Party once again the natural party of government in this country.  (2005g)

In (34), distal you and your co-occur with distal there, speaker-intending the construal of a distal context, while at the same time expressing detachment: (34) There’s something special about marriage. It’s not about religion. It’s not about morality. It’s about commitment. When you stand up there, in front of your friends and your family and the world.  (2006b)

In (35), proximal we, us, our, and now co-occur with distal there which is coreferential with battleground, referring to Iraq, and in (36), proximal I and here co-occur with distal there. Through the incongruous co-occurrences, the speaker gets in a conversational implicature, implicating that being in Iraq is relevant to our democracy. This is supported by the use of unbounded perfective aspect, e.g., have chosen, have had, and epistemic necessity, e.g., should, which may also be given the non-epistemic interpretation of obligation. The connectedness between the political situation ‘there’, viz., in Iraq, and ‘here’, viz., Britain, is conversationally implicated in (36): (35) They have chosen this battlegroundi because they know success for us in Iraq is not success for America or Britain or even Iraq itself but for the values and the way of life that democracy represents. They know that. That’s why they are therei. That is why we should be therei and whatever disagreements we have had, should unite now in our determination to stand by the Iraqi people until the job is done.  (2004c) (36) It’s simply that I believe democracy there means security here. 

(2004c)

Context is brought into the discourse, and context is brought out in the discourse. The strategic importation of context and strategic invocation of context is intrinsically connected with the construal of personal and interpersonal space, implicating attitude, opinion, and emotive dispositions.

Strategic context importation in political discourse 143



5.

Conclusion

The analysis of the strategic importation of context is based on an outlook on context as a dynamic, interactive, and relational construct. Consequently, context is presupposed in communication; it is imported into a communicative situation, it is invoked in a communicative situation, and it is entextualized in a communicative situation. Context is no longer an analytic prime and has been classified as social and sociocultural context, as linguistic context, and as cognitive context. The generalized perspective on context has been applied to an investigation of monologic and dialogic political discourse, and particular attention has been given to the strategic importation of context through the indexical expressions here and there. Context is indispensable to assigning values to indexical tokens employed to realize deictic reference, and depending on the co-occurrences of here and there, particular contexts have been imported to achieve particular perlocutionary effects, such as expressing interpersonal solidarity or detachment. In the interviews, the referential domains of here and there are made explicit less frequently as the interlocutors can negotiate them in a direct manner. Co-occurrencesÂ� with deictic verbs, person-deictic terms, and time-deictic expressions are of relevance to the examination of perlocutionary effects. If the nature of their connectedness is of a congruent nature, the indexical terms reinforce the contextual value of here or there, and if their nature of connectedness is incongruent, the speaker gets in a conversational implicature, intending their interlocutors to construe a particular context, which – in the context of political discourse – is generally employed to support the speaker’s line of argumentation.

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Fetzer, Anita. 2000. “Negotiating validity claims in political interviews.” Text 20 (4): 1–46. Fetzer, Anita. 2004. Recontextualizing Context: Grammaticality meets Appropriateness. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Fetzer, Anita. 2006. “’Well if that had been true that would have been perfectly reasonable’: Appeals to reasonableness in political interviews.” Journal of Pragmatics 39(8): 1342–1359. Fetzer, Anita. 2010. “Contexts in context: Micro meets macro.” In Discourses in Interaction, Sanna-Kaisa Tanskanen et al. (eds), 13–31. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Fetzer, Anita and Fischer, Kerstin. 2007. ”Introduction.“ In Lexical Markers of Common Grounds, Anita Fetzer and Kerstin Fischer (eds), 1–13. Amsterdam: Elsevier. Garfinkel, Harold. 1994. Studies in Ethnomethodology. Cambridge: Polity Press. Goffman, Erving. 1986. Frame Analysis. Boston: Northeastern University Press. Goodwin, Charles and Duranti, Alessandro. 1992. “Rethinking context: An introduction.” In Rethinking Context. Language as an Interactive Phenomenon, Alessandro Duranti and Charles Goodwin (eds), 1–42. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Greatbatch, David. 1986. “A turn-taking system for British news Interviews”. Language in Society 17: 401–430. Grice, Herbert Paul. 1975. “Logic and conversation.” In Syntax and Semantics. Vol. III, Peter Cole and Jerry L. Morgan (eds), 41–58. New York: Academic Press. Gumperz, John J. 1992. “Contextualization and understanding.” In Rethinking Context: Language as an Interactive Phenomenon, Alessandro Duranti and Charles Goodwin (eds), 229–252. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Gumperz, John J. 1996. “The linguistic and cultural relativity of inference.” In Rethinking Linguistic Relativity, John J. Gumperz and Stephen C. Levinson (eds), 374–406. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Gumperz, John J. 2003. “Response essay.” In Language and Interaction. Discussions with John J. Gumperz, Susan Eerdmans et al. (eds), 105–126. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Hanks, William F. 1992. “The indexical ground of deictic reference.” In Rethinking Context: Language as an Interactive Phenomenon, Alessandro Duranti and Charles Goodwin (eds), 43–76. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Heritage, John. 1984. Garfinkel and Ethnomethodology. Cambridge: Polity Press. Jungbluth, Konstanze. This volume. “This? No, that! Constructing shared contexts in the conversational dyad.” Lauerbach, Gerda and Fetzer, Anita. 2007. “Introduction.” In Political Discourse in the Media: Cross-Cultural Perspectives, Anita Fetzer and Gerda Lauerbach (eds), 3–20. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Levinson, Stephen. 1979. “Activity types and language.” Linguistics 17: 365–399. Levinson, Stephen. 2003. “Contextualizing ‘contextualization cues.” In Language and Interaction. Discussions with John J. Gumperz, Susan Eerdmans et al. (eds), 31–40. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Levinson, Stephen. 2004. “Deixis.” In Handbook of Pragmatics, Lawrence Horn and Gregory Ward (eds), 97–121. Oxford: Blackwell. Marmaridou, Sophia. 2000. Pragmatic Meaning and Cognition. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Park, Joseph Sung-Yul and Bucholtz, Mary. 2009. “Public transcripts: entextualization and linguistic representation in institutional contexts.” Text & Talk 5: 485–502. Prevignano, Carlo and di Luzio, Aldo. 2003. “A discussion with John J. Gumperz.” In Language and Interaction. Discussions with John J. Gumperz, Susan Eerdmans et al. (eds), 7–30. Amsterdam: John Benjamins.

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Appendix Table 4.╇ The British political interviews Date

Words

Interviewee

2001a PEI 2001b PEI 2001c PEI 2001d PEI 2001e PEI 2001f PEI 1997a PEI 1997b PEI 1997c PEI 1997d PEI 1997e PEI 1997f PEI 1997g PEI 1997h PEI 1997i PEI 1997k PEI 1997l PEI 1997m PEI 1997n PEI 1997o PEI 1990a OTR 1990b OTR 1990c OTR

12,818 10,825 12,427 11,029 11,570 10,207 â•⁄ 1,714 â•⁄ 6,211 â•⁄ 5,411 â•⁄ 7,343 â•⁄ 7,277 â•⁄ 7,300 â•⁄ 5,964 â•⁄ 7,141 â•⁄ 5,745 â•⁄ 1,628 â•⁄ 8,030 â•⁄ 6,962 â•⁄ 5,439 â•⁄ 4,462 â•⁄ 5,157 â•⁄ 4,159 â•⁄ 1,434

T. Blair (Labour) T. Blair (Labour) W. Hague (Conservative) W. Hague (Conservative) C. Kennedy (Liberal Democrats) C. Kennedy (Liberal Democrats) J. Major (Conservative) J. Major (Conservative) J. Major (Conservative) J. Major (Conservative) J. Major (Conservative) T. Blair (Labour) T. Blair (Labour) T. Blair (Labour) T. Blair (Labour) T. Blair (Labour) P. Ashdown (Liberal Democrats) P. Ashdown (Liberal Democrats) P. Ashdown (Liberal Democrats) P. Ashdown (Liberal Democrats) M. Heseltine (Conservative) J. Prescott (Labour) J. Cunningham (Labour)

146 Anita Fetzer

Table 4.╇ (continued) Date

Words

Interviewee

1990d OTR 1990e OTR 1990f OTR 1990g OTR 1990h OTR 1990i OTR

2,485 4,047 2,364 4,695 2,411 2,457

J. Gummer (Conservative) K. Clarke (Conservative) D. Trippier (Conservative) T. Blair (Labour) C. Moynihan (Conservative) N. Lamont (Conservative)

178,712

Table 5.╇ The political speeches Date

Words

Politician

2006a 2006b 2006c 2006d 2006e 2005a 2005b 2005c 2005d 2005e 2005f 2005g 2005h 2004a 2004b 2004c

4,811 5,961 2,867 3,488 5,440 2,668 2,221 2,270 4,025 1,008 5,911 1,988 2,700 4,670 5,684 4,644

G. Brown (Labour Party Conference) D. Cameron (Conservative Party Conference) D. Cameron (Conservative Party Conference) M. Campbell (Liberal Party Conference) T. Blair (Labour Party Conference) D. Cameron (Conservative Party Conference) D. Davis (Conservative Party Conference) L. Fox (Conservative Party Conference) C. Kennedy (Liberal Democrat Party Conference) M. Rifkind (Conservative Party Conference) T. Blair (Labour Party Conference) K. Clarke (Conservative Party Conference) M. Howard (Conservative Party Conference) M. Howard (Conservative Party Conference) C. Kennedy (Liberal Party Conference) T. Blair (Labour Party Conference)

60,356

Context, contrast, and the structure of€discourse in Turkish* Ümit Deniz Turan and Deniz Zeyrek This paper attempts to account for the contrastive discourse connective (tam) tersine (‘on the contrary’) in Turkish discourse. We suggest that this connective evokes a discourse structure which has at least three parts: the material in the prior linguistic context, its refutation, and then rectification in the clause where the connective is hosted. Since negation is obligatory in the discourse context for refutation, we include a discussion of negation and we conclude that the obligatory negative clauses are instances of descriptive negation rather than metalinguistic negation. We show that linguistic and cognitive contexts interact in producing and interpreting the discourse adverbial connective under discussion and the discourse structure in which it is used. It is claimed that (tam) tersine serves to bring closer the cognitive context of the intended audience to that of the writer’s while minimizing any potential discrepancies in the audience’s and the writer’s cognitive context. We argue that this discourse connective and the discourse it evokes are used in the argumentative mode.

1.

Introduction

This paper argues that discourse structure can be better explained when the interactions between the micro-level linguistic and cognitive contexts and the macro-level context are taken into consideration, as evidenced in the use and interpretation of the discourse adverbial (tam) tersine (‘on the contrary’) in Turkish. The study is organized as follows: Section 2 introduces the concept of context. Section 3 is devoted to methodology and research questions. Section 4 deals with contrast and introduces the contrastive discourse adverbial (tam) tersine. Because negation is obligatory in expressing contrast used with this discourse adverbial,

* We gratefully acknowledge the research grant from TÜBİTAK (Turkish Scientific Research Foundation) supporting this work.

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this section reviews Horn’s Q- and R-based Principles and describes the difference between descriptive and metalinguistic negation, arguing that the negative clauses in the discourse context are cases of descriptive negation. Section 5 introduces the tripartite structure of the discourse which tam tersine triggers and Section 6 discusses the effect of the tripartite discourse structure on the cognitive context. Section 7 explains that a (tam) tersine-clause is preceded by refutation clauses and followed by rectification clauses, allowing it to be readily used in the argumentative mode. Finally, Section 8 is devoted to the conclusions.

2.

Context

The term context is used in abundance in linguistics for a number of different phenomena, ranging from linguistic context to socio-cultural context and has a range of meanings. There is not a single established definition of context and its meaning is taken for granted by those who use it. This proliferation and the implicit use of the term make it difficult to define context (Fetzer 2004:â•›4). In linguistics, the term context covers all linguistic aspects ranging from those of minimal units such as a phoneme in the surrounding of other sounds, to morphemes, words, sentences, and utterances used in a spoken or written discourse that precede or follow the linguistic item under discussion, constraining or influencing its meaning or use. The environment of an utterance is also a part of linguistic context, which we will refer to as discourse context. Interlocutors are actively in interaction, and verbal communication does not take place in a vacuum but in a particular social setting based on certain assumptions of both of the interlocutors (Fetzer 2004). This extra-linguistic context is also known as social context and at the micro-level, it includes the speaker and the hearer, their social roles, gender, and the physical setting. Social context, too, is relevant, especially in accounting for speech acts and speaker intentions in discourse, the roles of the participants in a communicative event, the illocutionary force of the utterance, etc., and the institutional environment (courtrooms, medical counseling, classrooms, among others) at the macro-level (Fetzer 2007). Since social context is not directly relevant for our purposes, we will not discuss it any further. Extralinguistic context, also relevant to linguistic analysis, can be either cognitive or situational context. There is an intricate interaction between these types of contexts in a speech situation, especially in conversation and also in written discourse: linguistic and cognitive contexts, as well as the macro-level aspects of context, such as the cultural background and the writer’s intentions play an important role in written discourse.



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Cognitive context pertains to shaping the mental representations of the reader and the writer. The interlocutors cannot coordinate communication without assuming a vast amount of shared information or common ground. Mutual knowledge, mutual beliefs, and mutual assumptions (Clark and Marshall 1981) keep track of the common ground on a moment-by-moment basis. The common ground, then, is an aspect of cognitive context. The writer takes the reader’s perspective, difficulties, beliefs, etc. into consideration when s/he organizes his/her discourse. The reader, likewise, is actively involved in context building during the reading process by shaping a cognitive context in line with that of the writer. The writer also assumes that the reader anticipates some aspects of the socio-cultural context in discourse while interpreting some mutual background knowledge shared by the individuals of a particular community. Bearing in mind what the intended audience’s background knowledge is, the writer may also make use of these shared aspects of socio-cultural context in constructing the discourse. Karttunen (1998) defines context as a set of true propositions which determine those that can be taken for granted in performing the next speech act. Context contains a set of background assumptions, what the speaker presumes to be shared by the intended audience. The speaker’s presumption about the shared background with the interlocutor has a cognitive aspect. In fact, context has lately been treated as a cognitive state or process (like mental models) by some researchers (Aijmer and Simon-Vandenbergen 2004). Context is involved in our everyday communication. It provides a setting to narrow down the possibilities of communication, hence disambiguating potential misunderstandings in communication (Leech 1981, Akman and Surav 1996). It is due to the context that language users can successfully interpret Â�deictic pronouns and quantifier scope (Akman and Surav 1996), as well as disambiguate some sentences and interpret irony, among others. Discourse context, i.e. the role of previous sentences in discourse, is important for understanding the current sentence, for example for realizing and resolving pronouns, as suggested in Centering Theory (Grosz, Joshi, and Weinstein 1995), as well as in other theories of pronoun resolution. The role of the linguistic, cognitive and situational context is manifest in Prince’s (1981, 1992) seminal work on the taxonomy of given-new information: Hearer-old information pertains to the shared information based on either social context or some previous experience between the interlocutors, discourse-old information is rooted in the entities introduced in prior discourse, and finally, situationally evoked entities are those that are the individuals or things referred to in the physical context. Inferrables allow bridging between two entities based on world knowledge. These entities with old information status are within the discourse model of the interlocutors.

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The discourse model is the mental representation of what is shared between the speaker and the hearer. In almost all studies of context, context is believed to be a dynamic process both in spoken and written discourse. In interaction, speakers aim to construct context online as each utterance is accepted, negotiated and verified by the interlocutors to minimize any misunderstandings. Context is incrementally updated as new statements are added. As Fischer (2007:â•›47) puts it, (situational) context “needs to be interactively established”, for all parts of context are interactionally built. Written discourse consists of an interactional nature between the writer and the reader (for example, Thompson 2001). The writer and the reader work collaboratively to form and organize the cognitive context, just like the speaker and the hearer. As in the case of the speaker in spoken discourse, in written discourse, the writer takes into consideration the viewpoints, expectations, potential objections, emotions, etc. of the reader and makes an effort to address them. The writer can even bring in the reader’s view in order to contradict it (Thompson 2001). Therefore, dynamic context building is not only relevant to spoken discourse, but it is essential in written discourse as well.

3.

Methodology and research questions

We use a corpus-based data-driven approach in the analysis of the contextual issues surrounding the discourse adverbial (tam) tersine. The data are from the METU Turkish Corpus, a 2-million word corpus of modern written Turkish representing a variety of genres, e.g. short story, novel, news, memoir, interview, etc., shown with a tag on each text. The whole corpus was searched and all examples of the adverbial used as a discourse connective, i.e. those used at the clausal level were determined. Then, the context and use of each example were examined. The examples provided in the present study are representative of the rest of the samples in the corpus. The following research questions are asked in this study: (1) In what context is the discourse adverbial (tam) tersine used? (2) How does it evoke and / or change the context? (3) What discourse structure does it evoke? And (4) what is its function in discourse?

4.

Contrast and the contrastive adverbial connective (tam) tersine

(Tam) tersine is a contrastive adverbial not only used to connect clauses but also other sentential constituents, such as Noun Phrases. However, our concern in this



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study is to analyze its role in combining sentences in Turkish written discourse (Zeyrek and Webber 2008). An example from our corpus is illustrated below. In all the examples, the discourse adverbial is underlined. (1) a. (K)amuoyunda peydahlanan benzer sanıların çoğu gibi, bu da asılsız ve uyduruk: ‘Like other assumptions prevailing in public opinion, this is unfounded and fallacious:’ b. Bilgisayar, ondan tedirgin olanların, ekranla klavyeden uzak durmaya bakanların sandığı gibi müthiş bir elektronik beyin filan değil; ‘The computer is not an awesome electronic brainpower as some believe who are leery of the keyboard and the screen;’ c. tam tersine, zavallı bir makine … ‘(just) the opposite (it) is only a poor machine’ d. Bir bilgisayarın aslında toplama yapmaktan bile âciz olduğunu öğrenmek sizi rahatlatır mı? ‘Would it comfort you to know that a computer is incapable of even doing addition?’

In Example (1), the contrastive relation is between an awesome electronic brain in (1b) and a poor machine marked by (tam) tersine in (1c). It is important to note that this discourse adverbial is used after a previous utterance which is obligatorily negated. This obligatory negation marks the denial or rejection of some aspect of the previous utterance. Therefore, the contrastive relation signaled by (tam) tersine can more specifically be referred to as the state of being contrary or denial, where a speaker or writer asserts a kind of incompatibility between the preceding and the current statements. (Tam) tersine is like corrective connectives, which usually “involve a disagreement, denial or rejection of something in the previous utterance of an interlocutor, and the presentation of a replacement” (Thomas 2006:â•›34). According to Spenader and Maier (2009), denial and contrast have the same semantics and discourse organization. In both cases, some information is retracted from the context: in traditional examples of contrast the world-knowledgeÂ� based inferences are removed; while in the traditional examples of denial asserted, conversationally implicated or presupposed information is retracted from the context. Therefore, in Spenader and Maier’s (2009) view, contrast is a type of denial. They suggest that in the traditional accounts, the connection between contrast and denial is artificial and the distinction is obscured unless the role of context is taken into consideration. For example: (2) It rained in London but the sun was shining in New York.   (Spenader and Maier 2009:â•›1713)

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In this case the contrast is between the rainy vs. sunny weather in the two cities. However, out of context, the hearer is not able to understand what is preemptively denied in this context – is it the case that only in some parts of the world the weather is sunny and that in others it is not? When Examples (2) and (3) are compared the significance of previous linguistic context becomes obvious: (3) It was lucky that Mary chose the big Apple for her vacation last week. It rained in London but the sun was shining in New York.   (Spenader and Maier 2009:â•›1714)

Spenader and Maier (2008) claim that the motivation of contrast is to preemptively avoid potential inferences that would otherwise be misinterpreted. In that sense the purpose of both denial and contrast is to keep the shared context between the speaker and the hearer aligned. We agree with Spenader and Maier (2008) that denial and contrast are context-dependent and that their function is to establish and construct context. Furthermore, we claim that the discourse connective in our case has a context changing potential, as we shall see in Section 6. Spanader and Maier (2009) use Layered Discourse Representation theory (DRT) in their analysis of contrast and denial. In this framework, they use four layers: the truth conditional content, a layer for pragmatic inferences, including implicatures, a layer for accommodated presupposition and one for contextual or background information. Unlike Maier and van der Sandt’s (2003) analysis of denial that retracts the whole content, any layer can be removed in their analysis. This is illustrated with an example in the following interaction between two interlocutors: (4) A: The king of France had lunch with the Canadian Empress. B: Hmmm…Well, as for Canada I trust you know your stuff, but the King of France can’t have had lunch with her, because France doesn’t have a King.   (Spanader and Maier 2009:â•›1718)

In this case, the obvious contradiction by speaker B is the denial of the existential presupposition that there is a King of France. Although speaker B accepts that there may be a Canadian Empress, the existence of a King of France is denied, retracting the layer of existential presupposition. If speaker B had uttered “No, they didn’t, they just had a short meeting”, then the whole assertion would have been removed from the context in this framework. Although negation is not a defining property of all denial and contrast in Spanader and Maier’s (2009) data, it is a distinctive property in our data without exception. Therefore, in order to see the role and function of negation, in Â�Section€4.1 we discuss Horn’s reformulation of Gricean maxims and the function of negation in the contrast marked by (tam) tersine.



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4.1 Horn’s Q-based and R-based implicature and negation Horn (1972, [1984] 1998, 2004) suggests a reformulation of Grice’s Cooperative Principle, which lies beneath the tacit rules that administer rational interaction. Horn (1972, 2004) proposes that Grice’s Maxim of Quality is the most basic, irreducible, and indispensible requirement of human interaction. That is to say, if a speaker is not sincere and truthful, the interaction becomes immaterial, rendering all other maxims unaccountable. Setting the Maxim of Quality aside, all other maxims can be reorganized in Horn’s taxonomy as Q-based and R-based Principles: The Q-based Principle (Hearer-based) Make your contribution sufficient (Quantity sub-maxim 1) Say as much as you can Lower-bounding principle, including upper-bounding implicata



The R-based Principle (Speaker-based) Make your contribution necessary and no more than required  (Maxim of Relation and Quantity sub-maxim 2, Manner) Upper-bounding principle, including lower-bounding implicata  (Horn [1984] 1998)

The Q-based Principle creates scalar values, also known as scalar implicatures. For example: (5) John does not have three children – he has four.

Horn (1985) argues that three in Example (5) is lower-bounded by its truthconditionalÂ� semantics and it may be upper-bounded if context permits it. The first segment of Example (5) is not as informative as required (because the speaker has said something true but implicated something false); therefore, the upper bound of the cardinal scale is provided as four in the second segment. It is worth noting for our purposes that Example (5) does not negate John’s having three children, it rather operates on a metalinguistic level to reject the implicature that John has only four children. Other researchers have also elaborated on scalar implicatures (e.g. Fauconnier 1975, Hirschberg 1985, Walker 1994). Researchers working within the Framework of Construction Grammar have extended the notion of scalar implicature (their term scalar models) to account for constructions such as let alone in English (Fillmore et al. 1988, Kay 2004). According to Horn, the Q-based Principle “is a sufficiency condition. A lower bounding law in terms of information structure …. a speaker in saying “ …p…” implicates that (for all she knows) “…at most p…”” (Horn [1984] 1998:â•›385). The R-based principle, on the other hand, stems from the requirement of minimizing the form “Say no more than you must.” It is socially rather than Â�linguistically motivated, as exemplified by indirect speech acts, euphemisms,

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Â�litotes, and cases of the so-called Negative –raising. For example, instead of saying You shouldn’t do it, it is more suitable socially to say I don’t think you should do it. Q-based implicature can be cancelled without affecting what is already said: The park is not good, but it is marvelous is felicitous. In this case, the truth-value of the former statement is not affected: the park is good, but it is even more than that, it is marvelous. What is denied by the negation is the lower bound of the scale. In Section 4.2, we will see that these are cases of metalinguistic negation. R-based implicature, on the other hand, cannot be cancelled by negation, as illustrated in Example (6): (6) a. Sorumlu, aklı başında insanlara düşen şey, adımın atılmasını güçleştirmek değil, ‘What the responsible and sensible people should do is not to set hurdles to make a step towards the success,’ b. tam tersine, bunu kolaylaştırmak için kamuoyunu hazırlamak ve insanca, anlayışlı bir havanın oluşmasına çalışmaktır. ‘on the contrary, (it is) to simplify it in order to prepare the public opinion and to provide a humanistic and understanding atmosphere.’

In (6a) the negation cannot be cancelled by replacing something with an upward entailing property. On the contrary, set hurdles vs. simplify are mutually exclusive contrasting pairs, not scales on a continuum. This example illustrates that negative statements in our case are R-based. According to Horn, Q-based implicatures do not strengthen the force of an assertion, however R-based implicatures do. Negative sentences are thought to be less informative than their positive counterparts in the literature. For example, an utterance, such as I don’t have a sibling does not convey much information (Givón 1978, Israel 2004). Such an utterance is pragmatically odd especially in a discourse-initial position, or without a previously evoked discourse context. This negative sentence can only be felicitously used so long as an existential presupposition of the sibling or an implication exists, when an assertion exists in the previous discourse context or when the audience might think that this is the case. Negative sentences are used to deny, contradict, correct, or cancel the propositions of the speaker himself or his interlocutor (Strawson 1952, Givón 1978, Israel 2004, among others). As a result, negation is used in more restricted and marked cases. Negative sentences are not felicitous unless embedded in context. (7) A: What’s new? B: #My wife isn’t pregnant A: Gee, was she supposed to be?

(Givón 2001:â•›370)



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In Example (7), the infelicity of the negative clause uttered by speaker B is due to the fact that there is no shared knowledge in the cognitive context. The felicity of this utterance can only be based on a previous conversation, on a desire of a medical treatment of B’s wife for pregnancy. This is because such a conversation would create a relevant context, a shared knowledge, or common ground. What is important is that an expectation for or an attempt at pregnancy must be in the cognitive context of the interlocutors. In that case, A’s second question showing surprise would be inappropriate. Within the same vein, negation in an information question is also weird, as in the example below: (8) #Where didn’t you leave your keys?

(Givón 2001:â•›371)

Referring to this example, Givón (2001) states that the limitless possible locations where the keys were not left make this question too vague to be interpretable. In other words, the context to limit the potential location of the keys is not available. Yet, a negative sentence may not always be the marked choice over its positive counterpart: (9) a. There was once a man who didn’t have a head. b. #There was once a man who had a head.

(Givón 2001:â•›371)

In this case, the negative assertion denies or refuses the mutual information that people must have heads as conceived in the broader socio-cultural context, but stating something that is already within the socio-cultural context is uninformative – otherwise it provides more information than required in Gricean terms, which leads to the infelicity of the utterance. Due to these observations, negative assertions are assumed to be marked and occur in restricted cases, where they are taken to deny, refuse or object to what is (tacitly) believed to be in the context (Horn 1985, Givón 2001, Israel 2004, Giora et al. 2007, among others.) Obligatory negation fulfills the same function in our examples with the discourse adverbial (tam) tersine. The negated clause refutes, denies or objects to some aspect in the preceding discourse context and then the adverbial and its host clause rectify it.

4.2 Descriptive vs. metalinguistic negation There are two types of negation observed in the literature. In order to investigate the nature of negation in our data we need to refer to the literature for these different types of negation. Horn (1985) in his seminal work divides negation into two, as descriptive negation and metalinguistic negation. Descriptive negation negates

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the truth of a proposition, while metalinguistic negation negates the implicatures that may be associated with the assertion of the proposition (as in Example (5) above). Metalinguistic negation is used to object to “the previous utterance on any grounds whatever, including the way it is pronounced” (Horn 1985:â•›134) and to object to the style of the utterance, such as The grandma doesn’t feel lousy, she is a bit tired, etc. Another use of metalinguistic negation “is as a way of disconnecting the implicated upper bound of weak scalar predicates” (Horn 1984:â•›139), as illustrated in the example below: (10) Around here we don’t like coffee – we love it 

(Horn 1985:â•›139)

The negated part does not entail the fact that we do not like coffee, but states that it is more than liking, in fact it is loving coffee. Love is the upper bound on the scale of liking. (11) It is not warm, it is hot.

Again, in Example (11) the negation does not change the truth value of the proposition, but rather it is used to state that warm is not enough to describe the temperature, it is more than that. The upper bound of the scale of heat is reinforced and hot naturally includes warm. (12) A: (Who was that lady I saw you with last night?) B: That was no lady, that was my wife.

(Horn 1985:â•›134)

In Example (12), speaker B does not intend to say that his wife is no lady: namely, the negation does not make the proposition false. Instead, speaker B denies A’s implicature that he met a woman other than his wife, his sister or a lover, etc. One characteristic of metalinguistic negation is that it does not allow affixal negation: (13) a. The King of France is not happy/*unhappy – there is no King of France. b. It’s not possible/*impossible for you to leave now – it’s necessary.

The negation cannot be incorporated morphologically because the sentence will then be interpreted as ordinary truth-functional negation. When our data is considered in terms of metalinguistic vs. descriptive negation, we find adjectives negated by an affix, as in the case of the adjectives corresponding to unenlightened and impossible in the example below: (14) a. Sözcüğün birinci anlamıyla (kitabın) yazarına kültürsüz demek olanaksız. ‘Literally, it is impossible to say that the author of the book is unenlightened.’

Context, contrast, and the structure of€discourse in Turkish 157



b. Tersine, ülkemizin bir bölgesinin kültürünü derin bir duyarlıkla, içten bir kavrayışla yansıtıyor yapıtında. ‘On the contrary, (he) reflects the culture of a part of our country with a profound sensitivity and understanding in his work.’



Since two negated adjectives are used together, the truth value of the proposition is affected by the negation, such that if the affirmative statement is False, the corresponding negative is True. This is a piece of evidence showing that Example (14) is not a case of metalinguistic negation. The negated statements in our data are not used to deny some aspect of a pronunciation, style or a scalar value of the preceding sentences within the prior discourse context. (15) #Park iyi değil, tam tersine şahane. #The park is not beautiful; on the contrary it is marvelous.

The constructed example above is infelicitous because the discourse adverbial tam tersine requires a dichotomous or conceptual relation denoting contrary pairs rather than scales but in this case marvelous entails good unilaterally, evoking a scalar reading rather than contrast. Scalar interpretation as a continuum is impossible since (tam) tersine and its English near-counterpart (‘on the contrary’) signal only mutually incompatible expressions. In other words, the negative statement is indefeasible once uttered since it is not a case of metalinguistic assertion. In fact, (tam) tersine marks a contrast between the two ends of a scale rather than a continuum. This section can be concluded by stating that the negation in our contrastive examples signaled by (tam) tersine cannot be interpreted as metalinguistic negation and that the descriptive negation reading is obligatory in the discourse context that immediately precedes the rectifying clause containing the adverb. In Section 7, we will also address the issue of R-principle in relation to this discourse connective.

5.

The adverbial (tam) tersine in discourse context

The adverbial (tam) tersine is embedded in a particular discourse context. First, it is preceded by obligatory negation as seen in Example (16). We have also seen that the adverbial is hosted by a rectifying clause, which corrects some part of the negated clause. This correction is obtained by replacing an idea or concept with an antonym, such as an awesome electronic brainpower vs. a poor machine. At a structural level, the clauses that contain negated and rectified clauses are adjacent.

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The function of the adverbial is often constructed through a tripartite structure of expectation, refutation, and rectification clauses: prior to the negated clause, the discourse context includes at least one clause which asserts a problem – usually a misunderstood aspect of some phenomenon – presupposes it, or implicates some situation that might somehow be interpreted otherwise, unless some aspect of it is explicitly denied or refuted. This clause in the previous Â�discourse context that presupposes or asserts a problem to be negated will be called expectation, which is refuted in the sequential statement. This is illustrated in the example below: (16) a. (Bir kuramın) yanlışlanabilirlik ilkesi ne yazık ki çoğu zaman yanlış yorumlanmaktadır. ‘Unfortunately, the falsification principle of a theory is mostly misunderstood.’ (expectation) b. Bir kuramın yanlışlanabilirliği o kuramın olumsuzluğuna, işe yaramazlığına değil, (refutation) ‘Falsifiability of a theory does not indicate its negativity and worthlessness,’ c. tam tersine verimliliğine, doğurganlığına işaret eder. (rectification) ‘(just the opposite) but rather that it designates fruitfulness and fertility.’

Example (16a) is an expectation clause. Here, the writer states that the falsifiability aspect (of a theory) is misunderstood by a group of people who are involved in a theory and its applications, or by those who ruminate on the issues of verification and falsification of theories. This false assumption is expectation, which is then refuted with an overt clausal negation and then rectified in a subsequent clause. The contrast is marked with contrasting lexical items such as negativity and worthlessness vs. fruitfulness and fertility of a theory. Expectation is given in the prior discourse context and it is in the social context of at least some people who share an interest in theories and their characteristics. Likewise, in Example (17) there is a tripartite structure of expectation (17a)€– refutation (17b) and rectification (17c). (17) a. Ustasının görüşlerini benimseyen Lenin de proletaryanın diktatörlüğü gerçekleşir gerçekleşmez bürokrasinin yavaş yavaş ortadan kalkmaya başlayacağına inanmıştı. ‘Lenin, who took on his master’s views, believed that as soon as the dictatorship of the Proletariat would come true, bureaucracy would be eliminated gradually.’

. Rectification is a term that is used in Horn (1985:â•›134) attributed to Anscombre and Ducrot, and also used in Spenader and Maier (2009:â•›1722).



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b. Zavallı adam, yanıldığını ilk kez ne zaman anladı bilinmez, ‘It is not known when the poor guy realized that he was mistaken.’ ama devrimden sonra Sovyetler Birliği bürokrasisinde bir küçülme ya da ortadan kalkma eğilimi görülmedi; ‘but after the revolution, the Soviet Union bureaucracy didn’t appear to diminish or disappear;’ c. tam tersine, gittikçe genişlemekteydi. ‘just the opposite, (it) was increasing continuously.’

In this example, expectation is Lenin’s belief in bureaucracy to be eliminated (17a), refutation is that bureaucracy didn’t appear to diminish or disappear (17b), and rectification is that it increased continuously (17c). As seen in these examples, in a tripartite discourse structure, (tam) tersine is used to change the already constructed context explicitly given in the preceding discourse, such as Lenin’s expectation that the bureaucracy in the Soviet Regime will be decreased or what the writer assumes to be in the common ground of a particular group of readers in the community (Example (17)) such as the unwarranted idea that a theory should not be falsifiable (Example (16)). To summarize, the adverbial (tam) tersine creates a context by the expectation clause, and then changes it with the refutation clause, and finally rectifies it. In this sense, we claim that it is doubly-contextual, because it demands a previous context and evokes the succeeding context. The cognitive level of discourse plays an important role in shaping the reader’s cognitive context. At this level, the use of the adverbial connective (tam) tersine is similar to some uses of in fact or the fact that; i.e. it is a contrastive connective “disclaiming rather than proclaiming since it involves the rejection or countering of a [dialogically] contrary position. It signals the speaker’s refutation to something which is expressed in the earlier context” (Aijmer 2007:â•›41). The following is an example from English: (18) (They) say we didn’t get on but the fact is, we hardly ever met.   (Aijmer 2007:â•›41)

In the case of (tam) tersine, the writer disclaims or refutes a position that might exist in some belief of a person or might be present within a community that shares some interest or some assertion that can be misunderstood by the audience. The rectified assertion that hosts the discourse adverbial (tam) tersine is interpreted to be what the writer really aims to convey as the intended message. Therefore, this assertion is more important than the refuted clause with the negative word. Spenader and Maier (2009) argue that according to the asymmetry hypothesis, in both contrast and denial “the second conjunct of a contrast relation (…) is more important than the first” (Spenader and Maier 2009:â•›1714). This is also supported by Spooren’s

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(1989) psycholinguistic experiments where the subjects interpreted the second conjunct in contrast relations as more in line with the speaker’s message than the first conjunct. To sum up, the interlocutor first raises a misconceived – or a potentially misunderstandable issue socio-culturally shared by the reader. Then, it is refuted and the opposite is asserted. The last assertion is in fact what the writer really wants to communicate and thus it is the most important part. The discourse adverbial (tam) tersine in this sense is used to strengthen the proposition and to signal that the assertion that follows (i.e. rectification) is the most crucial one for the writer’s communicative purpose and hence for shaping a cognitive context for the reader.

6.

The effect of the tripartite discourse structure on cognitive context

What is to be refuted (indented to be refuted) in the prior context? We have already stated that the local discourse that contains the adverbial (tam) tersine can be best analyzed in a three-part-functional-move: expectation (in the previous discourse context), its refutation, and rectification in the clause that hosts (tam) tersine. We have also noted that what is refuted and what is rectified are opposite concepts. In addition to the above, it has already been stated that, the function of negation is to deny, object to, or refuse some aspect of a proposition to avoid any potential discrepancies in the process of building the dynamic cognitive context. In fact, the previous discourse context may contain some assertions or presuppositions that may lead the reader to infer something that is not intended to be communicated by the writer. Once again, it is the adverbial (tam) tersine which (re-)shapes the reader’s cognitive context in such cases. This is exemplified below: (19) a. Hızla ilerleyen iletişim olanakları ile gelişen ülkelerin büyük kısmı evrensel bilgi toplumuna doğru gitmektedir. ‘Most of the developed countries are moving towards a universal information society with the developments in communication possibilities.’ b. Bu zaten evrensel teknoloji akımının bir parçasıdır. ‘This is in fact a part of the universal technological movement.’ c. Ancak bu, evrensel uygarlığa doğru gidişle aynı şey değildir. ‘However, this is not the same thing as moving towards a universal civilization.’ d. Ekonomi ve popüler şehir kültürü dışında ne toplum düzeni ve kurumlarında, ne geleneklerde, ne de kişisel değerler alanında, yeni sanayileşen ülkelerin evrensel bir uygarlığa doğru ilerledikleri söylenebilir. ‘It can be stated that the newly industrialized countries are moving towards a universal civilization in terms of neither traditions, nor human values, nor societal organization and institutions, except in economics and popular culture.’



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e. tam tersine, pek çok ülkede toplum kurumları, insan ilişkileri, kişisel değerler ve inançlar belli bir modele doğru gelişmemekte, uluslar arasında farklılıklar sürmekte, kendi içlerinde de karmaşa derinleşmektedir. ‘Just to the opposite, societal institutions in many countries, personal values and beliefs are not developing in a systematic model, the differences among nations continue, the chaos is growing deeper.’

In Example (19) the development of information technology in the developed countries and its universal nature might somehow be misleadingly inferred as causing some parallel developments in universal civilization, including traditions, human values, etc. It is this aspect of the discourse context that is refuted. The refutation and rectification lead the reader to re-establish his cognitive context compatible with that of the writer. Now, we can consider Example (20) below, where we discuss a further role of the adverbial (tam) tersine in forming a mutual cognitive context for the reader and the writer: (20) a. İddia olunduğu gibi Osmanlı, Rönesans İtalya’sının Levant ticaretini engellememiş, ‘Ottomans didn’t hinder Levant commerce of the Renaissance Italy as has been claimed,’ b. tersine geliştirme imkânları sağlamıştır. ‘on the contrary (they) provided opportunities to improve it.’ c. Osmanlıların ilk olarak 1352 yılında Cenevizlilere, daha sonra da Venedik ve Floransa’ya verdiği ticarî imtiyazlar, veya kapitülasyonlar, bu Cumhuriyetlerin Levant ile ticaretlerini sürdürmelerini garanti altına almış ve bu suretle de Rönesans İtalya’sının ekonomik refahına önemli katkıda bulunmuştur. ‘The commercial privileges, or capitulations, which the Ottomans provided for the Genoese and then to Venice and Florence guaranteed the continuity of their commercial relations with the Levant and thus contributed their economic welfare.’

In (20a) the discourse context to be refuted contains a postpositional phrase (PP), including a subordinate clause headed by P ‘gibi’ (‘as, like’), which presupposes some previous shared information in a broader (cultural) context, rather than an assertion that provides some new information at discourse-initial position. This is because the phrase ‘as has been claimed’ presupposes that it has been claimed…. that. Through this presupposition, the reader interprets the writer’s assumption of mutual knowledge in the claims or allegations made on the hindrance of the Â�Levant commerce by the Ottomans. It is this presupposition that the writer refutes in the rest of the clause. Therefore, the suggestion that negation is used to deny, object to, or oppose to some concept in the previous discourse context is supported by our data. This is

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valid for almost all of our samples in the data. Nevertheless, negation is not exclusively used in this way, as we explain by means of Example (21) below. Our data also consists of cases where the previous discourse context consists of an example to the rectified clause, rather than an antecedent to what is to be refuted, as in the following: (21) a. Japon devleti dünyanın belki de en güçlü devletlerinden bir tanesi ve Japon yöneticileri her bakımdan, eğitim düzeyleri olsun, elde ettikleri toplumsal statüleri bakımından olsun, çok güçlü kişiler. ‘The Japanese state is probably one of the most powerful states and the Japanese leaders are very powerful in all respects, both in terms of their educational levels and the social statuses that they attain.’ b. Bu örneği de kullanarak, ben, güçlü devletle iyi işleyen bir piyasayı birbirine zıt faktörler değil, ‘Using this example, I consider that the powerful state and a market that functions well are not conflicting factors,’ c. tersine, birbirini tamamlayan iki unsur olarak görüyorum. on the contrary, I regard these as two complementary factors.

In (21a) the fact that the Japanese leaders are powerful in terms of educational background and social status sets an example for the complementary characteristics of a powerful state and a well-functioning economic market. First, the writer asserts that these factors are opposing, then he reinforces it stating that these two factors go hand-in-hand. To recap, by first refuting the context then rectifying it, the discourse fulfills the role of establishing or re-shaping the mutual cognitive context for the reader and the writer. The discourse adverb (tam) tersine supports such contexts.

7. The motivation for refutation-rectification pairs: The use of the adverb in the argument mode In this section we will explain the reason why the writer refutes some aspect of the previous discourse context and then rectifies this refutation. All of the clauses in our data that precede (tam) tersine contain a lexical or sentential negation and the following sentence presents an opposing proposition. As has been discussed, negative sentences are less informative and more marked than their affirmative counterparts. In these cases, the positive counterparts could have been readily used without the prior introduction of a negated clause. The question we address is, why is it that writers resort to refutation and rectification pairs while the proposition can simply be conveyed in a positive statement?



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Horn ([1984], 1998) relates the modified Gricean conversational principles Q-principle and R-principle to Zipf ’s (1949, cited in Horn) speaker’s and hearer’s economy of speech. If speakers tend to spend less effort and provide no more than is required, why should they bother producing both a negated clause and then rectifying it with an affirmative? What is the reason of this prolixity instead of brevity of expression, if the proposition can be conveyed with a single affirmative clause? What causes eschewing the Law of Least Effort? As Leech (1981) suggests, The sub-maxim of NEGATIVE UNINFORMATIVENESS (…) when combined with the Maxim of Quantity, implies that a negative statement will be avoided if a positive one can be used in its place. Moreover, it will imply that when negative sentences ARE used, it will be for a special purpose. In fact, the CP [Grice’s 1975 Cooperative Principle] will predict that negative sentences tend to be used precisely in such situations when they are not less informative for a given purpose than positive ones: and this will be when s [the speaker] wants to deny a proposition which has been put forward or entertained by someone in the context.  (Leech 1981:â•›101)

Monologic discourse has dialogic properties. The writer considers what the intended audience might already know, believe, or think, among other factors. The writer also takes into consideration the mutual knowledge in the discourse, as well as cognitive and socio-cultural contexts. Writers do not write in a vacuum, but rather their language is embedded in these contexts. Writers tacitly obey Q and R-principlesÂ�; on the one hand, they try to make their contribution as clearly and orderly as possible; on the other, they try to make their contribution as informative as possible while they guide their readers to construct a cognitive context that is as much compatible as possible with their own. In addition, writers have intentions to inform, convince, and entertain their audiences. Although the notion of intention in language is a complex issue, it is an aspect of discourse, as discussed in the three-component-structure of discourse by Grosz and Sidner (1986). We do not want to go into any detailed account of intentions here (cf. Fetzer 2002) since it is beyond the scope of this study. Nevertheless, speakers and readers have intuitions about intentions in different discourse genres “such as a fictional story, a factual report of Events, a scientific account of a sequence of Events” (Smith 2003:â•›41). The intention of persuading an intended audience can be found in certain modes of discourse, but probably less so in a Narrative (Smith 2003:â•›41). We suggest that by using negation, writers try not only to minimize the differences in the mutual cognitive contexts between them and their readers but they also try to reinforce their claims in order to persuade them. The differences to be minimized can be triggered by some commonly held beliefs of a particular community, or by the previous discourse contexts, in which some sentences might carry presuppositions. In doing so, the writer is motivated to make clear

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that the assertion or presupposition in the previous discourse context should not be misinterpreted or any belief or opinion shared by the members of a community in the context should be shown to be unwarranted. Then the writer rectifies the wrongly-held opinion or belief by providing a contrasting property. As has been mentioned above, the second conjunct of the contrast conveys the more important message, which is more in line with what the writer really means to communicate. Therefore, along with a need to reduce misunderstandings in the cognitive context, the writer’s communicative intention is to convince the reader that what is asserted in the rectified clause is more accurate and more important. This suggestion is confirmed by the fact that (tam) tersine, which triggers the suggested discourse structure with three functional moves (expectation-refutationÂ�-rectificationÂ�) takes place as the argument modes of discourse (Smith 2003). Argumentative discourse is always open to possible disagreements with and objections to the claims made by the writers. In argumentation, writers provide reasons to achieve a conclusion. This conclusion is the claim of the speaker or writer, which is not part of the generally accepted view, not necessarily taken for granted nor readily accepted upon assertion. The audience is always free to disagree, refute, rebut, object to, or deny any claim made by the writer. The aim of the writer is to close off any potential objections and disagreements in order to direct the reader to establish a cognitive context similar to the intended content. The semantics of the adverb tam tersine allows the reader to use it readily in the argumentative mode, one of Smith’s modes of discourse. Smith (2003) identifies five modes of discourse: Narration, Description, Exposition, and Argumentation and Report. The first four modes are due to previous researchers, such as Genug (1900, cited in Smith 2003:â•›40). Report is a mode that Smith herself adds to this classification, which pertains to journalistic reports. The internal structure of each mode is determined by the communicative intention. Narration reports events in sequence, Description describes objects that are observed, Exposition explains, classifies, and explains ideas, terms or propositions. Argumentation aims to prove the truth or falsity of a proposition with the aim of persuading the audience. Discourse modes are not to be confused by the notion of genre. Modes are linguistic units with rhetorical significance. A single genre does not usually have a monolithic mode. A narrative, for example can have narrative, descriptive and reportive modes. A report, likewise, may contain narrative and descriptive modes. Each mode introduces certain types of situation: Event, state, generalization or abstraction. The modes have some identifying characteristics in terms of temporal progression, they are either temporal or atemporal. The modes are identified by the characteristics listed in Table 1.

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Table 1.╇ The characteristics of modes Situations

Temporality

Progression

Narrative

Specific Events and States

Dynamic located in time

Advancement  in narrative time

Report

Events, States, General Statives

Dynamic located in time

Advancement anchored in speech time

Descriptive

Events and States, and ongoing events

Static, located in time

Spatial advancement through scene or object

Argumentative

Facts and Propositions General statives

Atemporal

Metaphorical motion

When we consider Example (22) from the perspective outlined so far, our proposal is substantiated. (22) a. Ortaöğretimde gençler değişik düzeylerde yetiştirilmektedir. Fen liselerinde, Anadolu liselerinde, gelişmiş kent liselerinde gençler daha iyi olanaklarla eğitilirken doğudaki okullarda öğretmen, donanım eksikliği yüzünden gençlerin yeterince eğitilemediğini herkes biliyor. ‘In high schools the students are educated at different levels of quality. Everybody knows that while those who are in certain high schools get training with the best facilities, some others in the Eastern schools cannot be educated well due to lack of sufficient teachers and equipments.’ b. Sonuçta 76 çeşit lisede değişik ortamlarda yetişmiş gençleri aynı sınavda aynı sorularla değerlendirmek eşitlik değildir. tam tersine bu onlara yapılan adaletsizliktir, haksızlıktır. ‘As a result, it is not equality to assess these students with differing backgrounds in a single [university entrance] exam. On the contrary, this is injustice, inequality.’

The example above is in the argument mode, where the writer aims at persuading the reader about the inequality practiced in the university exams in Turkey. This is the argument mode since the writer introduces facts and general statives set against the mutual socio-cultural background shared by the reader. The discourse does not progress along a temporal line, i.e. it is atemporal. In our data, refutation-rectification pairs are always used for argumentation. In addition to our data, we did a Google search to check whether all uses of this adverbial occurs in the argumentative mode. Indeed, the search retrieved samples that are always embedded in the argument mode. In closing this section, we note that the prototypical property of the discourse in (22) is atemporal; i.e., it does not move the events forward and hence it is not a discourse typical of the narrative genre. This is hardly surprising because as Smith (2003) has predicted, the argument mode is not frequent in narratives.

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8.

Conclusion

This chapter was built around the discourse adverbial (tam) tersine in Turkish and how it supports forming, re-shaping and changing the context in written discourse. With representative examples from the METU Turkish Corpus, we discussed various contextual issues surrounding this contrastive discourse adverbial, and showed how different contexts, namely the linguistic context, the cognitive context, the broader context interact with each other. We first revealed the threeway structure which the discourse adverbial introduces, namely the expectation-refutation-rectification� structure. Then we demonstrated how the discourse adverbial, situated in this three-way structure, is associated with the cognitive context of the reader and the writer. We also demonstrated how the writer alludes to the shared background of the reader and himself. Finally, we argued that for the communicative intention of the writer, the most important and accurate piece of information is not the propositions expressed in the previous expectation and refutation clauses, but rather the very clause which rectifies the previous negated clause. We argued that this communicative intention is uniquely achievable through the argument mode introduced by Smith (2003). We have shown that parts of context, i.e. linguistic (discourse) and cognitive contexts interact intricately even when a single discourse adverbial is analyzed; in this way, we hope to have shed light on the parts of context that not only form a whole but shown that their interaction paves the way for a deeper understanding of how discourse structure is formed.

References Aijmer, Karin and Simon-Vandenbergen, Anne-Marie. 2004. “A model and a methodology for the study of pragmatic markers: the semantic field of expectation”. Journal of Pragmatics 36 (10): 1781–1805. Aijmer, Karin. 2007. “The Interface between discourse and grammar.” In Connectives as Discourse Landmarks, Agnès Celle and Ruth Huart (eds) 31–46. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: John Benjamins. Akman, Varol and Surav, Mehmet. 1996. “Steps toward formalizing context.” AI Magazine 17 (3): 55–72. Fauconnier, Gilles. 1975. “Pragmatic scales and logical structure.” Linguistic Inquiry 6 (3): 353–375. Clark, H. Herbert and Marshall, Catherine. 1981. “Definite reference and mutual knowledge.” In Elements of Discourse Understanding, Aravind Joshi, Bonnie Lynn Webber, and Ivan A. Sag (eds), 10–63. New York: Cambridge University Press.



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Fetzer, Anita. 2002. “Communicative intentions in context.” In Rethinking Sequentiality: Linguistics Meets Conversational Interaction, Anita Fetzer and Christiane Meierkord (eds), 37–70. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: John Benjamins. Fetzer, Anita (ed.). 2004. Recontextualizing context: Grammaticality meets appropriateness. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: John Benjamins. Fetzer, Anita (ed.). 2007. Context and Appropriateness: Micro Meets Macro. Amsterdam/ PhiladelphiaÂ�: John Benjamins. Fillmore, Charles, Paul Kay and Catherine O’Connor. 1988. “Regularity and idiomaticity in grammatical constructions: The case of let alone.” Language 64 (3): 501–538. Fischer, Kerstin. 2007. “Grounding and common ground: Modal particles and their translation equivalents” In Lexical Markers of Common Grounds, Anita Fetzer and Kerstin FischerÂ� (eds), 47–66. Amsterdam: Elsevier Science. Giora, Rachel, Ofer Fein, Keren Aschkenazi, Inbar Alkabets-Zlozover. 2007. “Negation in context: A functional approach to suppression.” Discourse Processes 43 (2): 153–172. Givón, Talmy. 1978. “Negation in language: Pragmatics, function, ontogeny.” In Syntax and Semantics 9: Pragmatics, Peter Cole (ed.), 69–112. New York: Academic Press. Givón, Talmy. 2001. Syntax: An Introduction. Volume I. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: John Benjamins. Givón, Talmy. 2005. Context as other Minds: The Pragmatics of Sociality, Cognition and Communication. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: John Benjamins. Grosz, Barbara and Candace Sidner. 1986. “Attention, intentions, and the structure of discourse.” Computational Linguistics 12(3): 175–204. Grosz, Barbara, Aravind Joshi and Scott Weinstein. 1995. “Centering: A framework for modeling local coherence of discourse.” Computational Linguistics 21 (2): 203–225. Hirschberg, Julia. 1985. A Theory of Scalar Implicature. Ph.D. dissertation, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, PA. Horn, Laurence. 1972. On the Semantic Properties of Logical English. UCLA Ph. Dissertation. Horn, Laurence. 1984. “Toward a new taxonomy for pragmatic inference: Q-based and R-based implicature.” In Meaning, Form, and Use in Context: Linguistic Applications (GURT 284), Schiffrin, Deborah (ed), 11–42. Washington, D.C: Georgetown University. [Reprinted in Kasher, Asa (ed.) 1998. Pragmatics: Critical Concepts. London: Routledge. 383–418.] Horn, Laurence. 1985. “Metalinguistic Negation and Pragmatic Ambiguity”. Language 61 (1): 121–174. Horn, Laurence. 2004. “Implicature” In The Handbook of Pragmatics, Laurence Horn and Â�Gregory Ward (eds), 3–28. Oxford: Blackwell Publishing. Israel, Michael. 2004. “The pragmatics of polarity.” In The Handbook of Pragmatics. Laurence Horn and Gregory Ward (eds), 701–723. Oxford: Blackwell Publishing. Karttunen, Lauri. 1998. “Presupposition and linguistic context.” In Pragmatics: Critical Concepts, Asa Kasher (ed), 32–46. London: Routledge. Kay, Paul. 2004. “Pragmatic aspects of grammatical constructions.” In The handbook of pragmatics, Laurence Horn and Gregory Ward (eds), 675–700. Oxford: Blackwell Publishing. Leech, Geoffrey. 1981. Semantics: The Study of Meaning. Harmondsworth, U.K: Penguin. Maier, Emar and Rob van der Sandt. 2003. Denial and correction in layered DRT. In Ivana Kruijff-Korbayová and Claudia Kosny (eds), Proceedings of DiaBruck, (The 7th Workshop on the Semantics and Pragmatics of Dialogue), Saarbrücken.

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Prince, Ellen. 1981. “Toward a taxonomy of given-new information.” In Radical Pragmatics, Peter Cole (ed), 223–256. New York: Academic Press. Prince, Ellen. 1992. “The ZPG letter: subjects, definiteness, and information-status.” In Discourse Description: Diverse Analyses of a Fund Raising Text, Sandra Thompson and William Mann (eds), 295–325. Philadelphia/Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Say, Bilge, Deniz Zeyrek, Kemal Oflazer and Umut Özge. 2002. “Development of a corpus and a treebank for present-day written Turkish.” In Proceedings of the Eleventh International Conference of Turkish Linguistics, İmer Kamile and Doğan Gürkan (eds), 183–192. Ankara: Ankara University. Smith, Carlota S. 2003. Modes of Discourse: The Local Structure of Texts. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Spenader, Jennifer and Emar Maier. 2009. “Contrast as denial in multi-dimensional semantics.” Journal of Pragmatics 41 (9): 1707–1726. Spooren, Wilbert. 1989. Some Aspects of the Form and Interpretation of Global Contrastive Coherence Relations. Ph.D. dissertation. University of Nijmegen, Nijmegen, The Netherlands. Strawson, Peter. 1952. Introduction to Logical Theory. London: Methuen. Thomas, Kavita. 2006. “Modelling correction signaled by “but” in conversation.” In Brandial’06: Proceedings of the 10th Workshop on the Semantics and Pragmatics of Dialogue (SemDial-10–2006), David Schlangen and Fernández Raquel (eds), 34–41. Postdam University, Germany. Thompson, Geoff. 2001. “Interaction in academic writing: Learning to argue with the reader.” Applied Linguistics 22 (1): 58–78. Walker, Marilyn. 1994. “Rejection by implicature.” Proceedings of the 20th Meeting of the Berkeley Linguistic Society 20: 563–574. Zeyrek, Deniz and Bonnie Webber. 2008. “A discourse resource for Turkish: Annotating discourse connectives in the METU corpus.” Proceedings of the 6th Workshop on Asian Language Resources, The Third International Joint Conference on Natural Language Processing, (IJNLP): 65–71. Hyderabad, India.

Communicative action in context

Speech acts in context Jacob L. Mey Some American linguist once said: ‘The text is all we have’. I would like to add that there is no text without context. With regard to speech acts, this idea is often encapsulated in the term ‘situated speech act’, in order to capture the notion that speech acts, in themselves, are not ‘real’: they have to be situated in reality, that is, in the context in which they were produced. This, by the way, is an insight already expressed by Austin as early as 1958 (Austin 1962). Not only are speech acts situated in a context; the context itself situates the speech acts, it creates them, as it were. A so-called indirect speech act is what the context makes it to be – not necessarily what the words spoken express by themselves; vice versa, a speech act (broadly: an utterance) may create the context for which it is appropriate. In international negotiations, for instance, the diplomatic speech acts are the instrument creating the final document, the communiqué or diploma, on which further negotiations are deemed to build; the felicity conditions for such acts cannot be captured by simplistic principles such as ‘sincerity’ or by universal maxims such as ‘quantity’ or ‘quality’ (as already remarked by the British diplomat Harold Nicolson in 1919; Nicolson 1934:â•›208). Similarly, the Conversation Analysts are partly right in maintaining that conversation creates the structure in which it happens; but in addition, one should be mindful that conversations are also ‘situated’, that is, their structuring happens in a general context of society. Here, ‘parts meet a greater whole’: speech acts are always ‘situated’, that is they are basically pragmatic acts (Mey 2001).

1.

Introduction

A friend once told me how he had been invited for dinner by his boss. This is the story my friend told me to show the importance of placing speech acts in context:

“So there we all were, sitting at the table, the boss’ wife serving out the food. She said to me ‘How many potatoes would you like?’ I said ‘Just one potato, please’. She said ‘There’s no need to be polite’, so I said ‘OK, just one potato please, you stupid fat cow’”.

172 Jacob L. Mey

Obviously, there was a certain confusion here. What was said, was not interpreted in the same way by the speaker and the listener: an offer of food was declined in a regular way (the default of the rejection speech act is clearly the polite one). The hostess interpreted my friend’s utterance as belonging to another type of politeness, whereby the speaker projects himself as modest, not wanting to usurp too much of the food. What his hostess really intended was to encourage my friend to have another potato if he liked. My friend, however, took her utterance: ‘You don’t have to be polite’ to mean, not: ’You don’t have to be (falsely) modest’, but: ‘You don’t have to express yourself politely’, and this is where the ‘fat stupid cow’ comes in – certainly not a very polite expression! In other words, my friend obeyed the injunction of not being polite, but he applied it to the wrong act.

2.

Context

What this little anecdote shows is that no act of speaking, no matter how banal and unprepossessive, can be properly understood unless it is placed in the right context. By this I do not mean primarily the surrounding text of an utterance (often called the co-text); rather, I am thinking of the situation in which particular speech acts are made possible, while others are impossible or difficult to realize. Many situations are characterized by what I would call the ‘default act’. When offered another potato at the dinner table, you have basically only two possibilities: saying either ‘no, thank you’, or ‘yes, please’ (or ‘yes, thank you’). In the latter case, you may further specify your choice (e.g. regarding the number of potatoes you’d like to have on your plate), and this is where complications may arise. Rather than using the simple ‘yes/no’ pattern, my friend ‘revitalized’ the scenario and made it into one of multiple choices, where one, two, three, … n potatoes are now all among the possibilities. In addition to multiplying the choice procedure, this scenario is psychologically much more complicated than the simple ‘yes/no’ alternative, as it potentially reveals a lot about the person making the choices – another feature of the situation that usually is not taken into account. By specifying the number of items one wants, when given a choice, one discloses something about one’s preferences and thereby potentially reveals a character trait. We don’t want to be seen as greedy, so we say ‘Just one, please’, choosing a small number – or even the smallest number reasonably possible: a hostess will not like to have to cut a potato in half in front of a super-modest guest, who (if given the option) might choose to have just one half (or a third, fourth, … n-th) of one potato.

Speech acts in context 173



3.

The force of words

But there is another aspect of the context that also often escapes our attention, probably because it is too obvious to be remarked on by anybody but a professional linguist (or maybe a trial lawyer). It has to do with what the words ‘mean’ by themselves. I shall not here enter a plea for returning to the ‘essentialist’ view of language by which words are given some kind of eternal, immutable significance, a bit like it used to be for those Veda priests of Ancient India, who had to pronounce the sacred formulas exactly as they were traditionally conserved, on the penalty of not fulfilling their sacerdotal duties (this, by the way, historically marked the beginning of human interest in phonetics, and indirectly in linguistics). Consider again the case of my friend at the dinner table: No matter what the situation was, he did utter some words possessing, let’s say, rather negative connotations. Calling a person, in particular a woman, a ‘stupid fat cow’ is not nice. But can one retract an insulting remark? Is there such a thing as a Moore’s paradox for insults, like if I were to say “I think you’re stupid but I don’t think so”? This is the linguistic equivalent of crossing one’s fingers when producing an untrue statement. Are we, then, looking at a lie, or is the utterance made inoffensive and non-punishable as a lie by some act of ‘denying’ bodily what one has uttered verbally? Compare that under certain societal conditions, even referring to a forbidden situation or ostracized event (e.g. by using a tabooed word) may carry a severe penalty. In the days after the aborted July 20, 1944 putsch against Hitler it was extremely dangerous in any German-controlled territory to utter the word Attentat; the remotest, even if only suspected or purely verbal, connections with the group of people that were behind the plot was potentially life-threatening. Or, to take a more recent example, in the days after September 11, 2001, my wife and I were traveling through Boston Logan airport (from where the nineteen terrorists had departed that fateful day). Prior to boarding the plane, we were confronted with a huge sign, the size of a school blackboard, whose white lettering spelled out all the words that one should not use while passing the checkpoint, or even while standing in line. Mentioning ‘bomb’, or ‘terrorist’ could land you – if not in jail, then at least in a situation where prolonged interrogations might cost you a plane connection or some other, worse unpleasantness. I wanted to note down those expressions in my pocket diary, but was prevented from doing so by my wife, who rightly remarked that such an act might also be construed as indexing a terrorist connection.

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Words, once spoken, remain ‘in the air’, even if we don’t hear or see them. This is why the old adage ‘words fly away, but writings remain’ (verba volant, scripta manent) is only partially true. Words do fly, but like a polluting factory’s fly ash particles, they don’t go away; they just land somewhere else and do their bad business there, even long after the original interlocutors have passed on. Author Â�Robert Louis Stevenson once had Bonnie Prince Charles express it like this: “Things have been said that cannot be forgotten” (from his novel Kidnapped) – and that applies to the ‘fat cow’ of our example as well.

4.

Situations and speech acts

I have elsewhere (e.g. Mey 2001:â•›Ch. 9) argued that speech acts in themselves do not have a proper existence; the case of indirect speech acts is invoked to provide support for this view. As is well known, in a particular situation, given a number of contextual features that are activated (like physical conditions, normal expectations, availability of physical resources, obvious needs, and so on), the speech act as such loses its all-important character of conveyor of meaning or intent. Consider the case of ‘passing the salt’, or ‘closing the window’. In most situations, the fully specified speech act of ‘requesting’ or ‘ordering’ is the anomalous case: most people will either rely on what Sperber and Wilson (1995) call an ‘ostensive reference’: a look, a nod, a pointing finger, etc., or use a highly reduced form of verbal expression, not even qualifying as an (indirect) speech act (as in: ‘the salt, please’). Even so, it is probably the case that certain words and expressions have an ‘intrinsic’ meaning so strong that it is apt to override the situational aspects, or at least ‘re-situate’ them. Consider the case of a person who habitually confuses ‘right’ and ‘left’. Usually, when a direction is given, we believe the person giving directions to be in command of the bodily parameters that make ‘left’ and ‘right’ such fundamental categories. So normally, when somebody tells me to ‘turn right’, and I think this is wrong, I still will execute the order in agreement with what the word says, and make a right turn. However, when the person directing me is one of those people that often confuse left and right, I may let the situation ‘take over’, since in this particular case, one of the crucial situational features is precisely the ‘left/right blind’ direction-giver.

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5.

On ‘seeing’ a situation

Acting in general depends not only on the actor and the ‘actee’, but also to a high degree on what it is possible, preferable, or even obligatory, to see. Especially in cases of misunderstanding, it is quite common that the parties disagree, not because they don’t want to reach consensus, but (as Jacques Rancière (1995) has observed) they are unable to see what the other party sees. Such a misunderstanding is basically irreparable; witness the many political situations where Â�promising-looking talks have collapsed under the weight of the situation (think Oslo agreements). There is a famous passage in the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius of Loyola, where he discusses the problem of subordinating one’s personal judgment to the authority of the Church. Having first explained that the vow of monastic subordination (also called ‘obedience’) implies acceptance of the Church’s authority (as embodied in one’s superiors) in all matters of faith and morals, he then goes on to give some examples. One of them is the (in)famous case of the stick in the hands of an old man, or the piece of wax on a table, or a defunct body: none of these material objects care where they are moved or put, or what is done to them (by the way, this is probably where the Germans got their expression Kadavergehorsam, literally ‘corpse obedience’; as the expressing is almost untranslatable into English, it may also reveal something about certain people’s need for this kind of attitude). But back to St. Ignatius and his explanation. He says, in so many words, that if I perceive an object to be black, but the Church tells me that it is white, I will accept it as being white; conversely, when the Church tells me something is white, while I perceive it as black, I will then put aside my perceptions and acknowledge the correctness of the Church’s interpretation of my senses. In our case, where we refer to situational features, it now becomes clear that if the speech act operates in a situation with a strong situational ‘pull’, the normal rules for (indirect or direct) speech acting cannot be supposed to hold. One always has to ask: Where does the speaker come from, what is her or his life situation? (Compare the typically Californian expression of empathy: “I know where you’re coming from.”). Subsidiarily and complementarily, the question is: Where does the speaker her-/himself stand? Consider the following anecdote which I have read in a work by the fifth century A.D. Armenian theologian/historian Faustus of Byzantium (P’awstos Byzandac’i) in his chronicle of the kings of his country. One of the latter, Arshak II, had been waging war with the king of Persia, Shapur II, some time in the 4th century A.D. Since Arshak at one time had been a vassal and friend of the Persian king, the latter decided to have him brought to Susa, the capital, in order to better control him.

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When Arshak was brought before King Shapur, he was interrogated about his relations with the Persian throne. Arshak assured that he always had been a faithful ally of the king, but that his misguided councilors had goaded him into bellicose adventures against Persia, which he now deplored and vowed never to instigate again. The Persian king was not quite satisfied with these protestations, and specifically inquired of Arshak if he would continue to profess the same obedience and loyalty once he had returned to his native soil. To this Arshak replied that his loyalty to his lord and master, the king of Persia, was as good as gold. Upon which the king ordered five wagon-loads of Armenian earth to be brought into his palace. The soil was deposited in front of the royal throne, and Arshak was ordered to stand on the mound, while the Persian king posed him the same questions as he had done earlier. But now the voice and demeanor of the Armenian king changed completely. He started to rave and rant and shout swear words and insults at all things and people Persian, including the king himself. When ordered to step down from the Armenian soil on to the palace floor, and again was asked the very same questions, �Arshak reverted to his earlier protestations of honorable conduct and fealty to Persia. This procedure was repeated a few times, with exactly the same outcome. The Persian king thereupon ordered Arshak to be skinned, his hide filled with straw, and the effigy thus produced to be sent back to Armenia so as to deter any potential rebellious lords from embarking on similar adventures as the unfortunate Arshak had been engaged in. The above anecdote may serve as a proper introduction to the next section, where I will discuss speech acting in diplomatic contests.

6.

Politics, diplomacy and conversation

There is one particular kind of situation that lends itself to reflecting on problems of communication, especially of misunderstood speech acts. I am thinking here of the diplomatic negotiation, such as it is practiced in the wake of, or to forestall, intentional conflicts. Here, Rancière’s view of ‘misunderstanding’, taking into account the limitations/possibilities of ‘seeing’ the object of the negotiations, is important. What Neville Chamberlain could not see, when he negotiated with Hitler at Berchtesgaden in 1939 was the real purpose of the conversation: to gain more time for the German army to prepare for its long-planned offensive, in order to realize Nazi Germany’s long-term goal: the conquest of Europe and the establishment of German domination throughout the entire world (often Â�somewhat Â�naively Â�identified with the words of the old national anthem Deutschland, Deutschland über alles/



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Über alles in der Welt – actually more an expression of romantic patriotism than an actual desire to go out and put Germany on top of everything in the world; even though a certain, possibly subconscious, desire in this direction certainly was exploited by Hitler and his criminal gang). So when Chamberlain came back with the ‘results’ of his talks with ‘Mr. Hitler’: “Peace in our times”, he had been deceived by his failure to position Hitler’s ‘speech acting’ (including his solemn assurance that “Germany has no further territorial aspirations”) in its proper situation. More generally, as the British diplomat Sir Harold Nicolson has remarked, negotiations on the international scene should not be framed as conversations among equals. Nicolson had a minor, but important role in the British team that negotiated the conditions of the Treaty of Versailles in 1919, and he had observed first-hand the various ways that diplomats turned ‘conversation’ from a parlor game into something much more serious and consequential, while on the surface observing the ‘rules of the game’. (See Nicolson 1934). His comments on the negotiating style of the Italian representative (Giorgio) Sidney Sonnino (twice his country’s Prime Minister) are typical in their perspicuity. The fact that Sonnino had a Welsh mother (not Scottish, as Nicolson has it), and expressed himself in beautiful RP English and that, in addition, his demeanor and manners were those of a consummate English conversationalist-gentleman, made that his quasi-conversational remarks were considered as serious contributions to the negotiations. As Nicolson noted in his diary, Sonnino turned out to be a formidable negotiator, who deftly managed to turn the tables through talk, changing Italy’s position from being an erstwhile member of the German/ AustrianÂ� controlled Entente to that of a deserving partner of the Allies. Actually, Italy had already started to switch sides in 1915, when the Italian government began to have misgivings about Germany’s chances to win the war; for which it had been promised the entire, mostly German-speaking Austrian province of Southern Tyrol, the present semi-autonomous Italian district of Alto Adige. Yet, despite his negotiating talents and his persuasive speech, Sonnino in the end had to resign as Italian Prime Minister due to his inability to secure also the Pula peninsula (the region around Trieste, Capodistria) for his country; that piece of coveted land went to the newly created republic of Yugoslavia, and since has become a part of independent Slovenia. What all this tells us is that the real outcome of diplomatic negotiations does not reside in the talking and its reality-constructing power, but uniquely in the outcome, the ‘diploma’, the doubly-folded document (the Greek di-ploma means exactly that: ‘twice folded’) that embodies the results of the talks and the Â�agreements reached or, negatively, the disappointments reflected in the disagreements. We can accept the conversation analysts’ claim that talk in acting constructs the action scene, but in the end the outer-worldly, societal constraints determine what goes into the ‘diploma’.

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7.

Speech acts and (con)text

Some American linguist once said: ‘The text is all we have’. I would like to add that not only is there no text without context, but more correctly, the context is all we have. As to the speech acts in a text or conversation, they are not real unless they are situated in reality, that is, embedded in the total situation of their production. In other words, just as we don’t have text without context, we won’t have speech acts per se, but only situated speech acts – an insight that is as old as Austin’s posthumous How to do things with words (where he actually mentions the ‘total situation’ that I referred to earlier; Austin 1962). When discussing the issue of speech acts in context, the first thing we have to do is to define the notion of context itself (assuming that the concept of the speech act is well-defined enough in its own right – which of course is debatable). For the purposes of the present paper, I want to emphasize the context as an active and creative, indeed proactive portion of the entire situation, without at the same time losing sight of the societal conditions that permeate the context and in fact co-create it. In my 2001 book Pragmatics, I talk about the “situated speech act”, where speech act and context meet in what I have dubbed the pragmatic act (Mey 2001:â•›222). The question here is not first of all what the speech represents (in terms of intention, like promising, excusing oneself, congratulating someone, etc.), but what the act of speaking, seen as part of the situation, is able to achieve in the situation. The situation defines the speech act in that it determines what the speaker’s words are to be construed as. Thus, an act of ‘promising’ may be construed as a promise or as a threat: it all depends on the situation. I want to take this thinking a step further and assert that all speech acts are to a certain extent created by their contexts, in that the context pre-determines what the speaker is going to say, even before he or she has opened their respective mouths. In other words, the act of speaking obtains it validity and value from the context, which I regard, for that reason, as pro-active. But also, not only are speech acts situated in a context; the context itself situates and conditions the speech acts. In particular, a so-called indirect speech act is what the context makes it to be – and this is not necessarily what the words express, taken by themselves, out of the context. Conversely, a speech act (broadly: an utterance) may create the context for which it is appropriate. To take our earlier case, the context determines what is polite, what is not. In the ‘fat cow’ incident, the guest did not purposely make an impolite remark; he played along with the situation, where the hostess was expected to take the speech act of ‘insulting’ as conversationally cleansed of its impolite content. Similarly, an Italian friend of mine at one time greeted me by calling out Come va, vecchio

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stronzo? (literally, ‘How’s it going, old fart?’); he did not intend to, nor did he, violate the politeness maxim. In addition, his ‘impolite’ greeting created a context of camaraderie: the expression ‘old fart’ indexes a long-standing relationship (mostly among men) where ritual insults are not only allowed, but encouraged.

8.

Conclusion

Conversation Analysis has a point when it tells us that conversation creates the structure in which it happens; however, one should be mindful that the conversation itself, and not least the conversationalists, are situated within a greater whole, the context of society. This context precedes and pre-structures the conversational context, both logically and temporally. Thus, a super polite form of address in a situation of friendly talk could either index or destroy the very context in which it is engendered and lives; likewise, the ritual insult may backfire when the addressee does not ‘pick up’ on the contextual nature of the speech act. (Actually, I doubt that the ‘fat cow’ of my original example was all too pleased by being addressed in this jocular fashion by her guest). Unsituated (or ‘de-situated’) use of politeness in speech may destroy a previous relationship, even irrevocably, as it happened between the two old friends Sasha Andersen and Wolf Biermann, when (upon being accused by Biermann of having had connections to the Stasi, the East German secret police) Andersen suddenly switched his form of address from the familiar ‘T’ (German du) to the formal ‘V’ (German Sie). (See Mey 2001:â•›41–42). Also, diplomatic speech acts in international negotiation are not simple conversational moves, like turns taken in collaborative speech. They are constrained by the context of negotiation and as such collaborate towards creating the final communiqué or other document, the diplomas on which further negotiations will have to build. As remarked by Nicolson in his report on the post-Great War negotiations of the Treaty of Versailles in 1919, we cannot adequately account for such negotiations by invoking CA techniques, or appealing to simple SA felicity conditions. A negotiating act of speech cannot be deemed successful by simply grading it, based on conditions such as ‘sincerity’ or on universal maxims such as ‘quantity’ or ‘quality’. In the world of speech acting, the acts depend on, and co-create, the situation. The situated and situating speech acts are essentially what I call pragmatic acts (Mey 2001). Here, as elsewhere, the ‘parts’ meet the ‘whole’ and conversely, the ‘whole’ subsumes the ‘parts’. Outside of the context, speech acts don’t exist.

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References Austin, John L. 1962. How to do Things with Words. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Mey, Jacob L. 2001. Pragmatics: An Introduction. Oxford: Blackwell. (2nd ed.). Nicolson, Harold. 1934. Peacemaking 1919. London: Constable. Rancière, Jacques. 1995. La mésentente. Paris: Galilée. Sperber, Dan and Wilson, Deirdre. 1995. Relevance: Communication and Cognition. Oxford: Blackwell. (2nd ed.).

How are speech acts situated in context? Etsuko Oishi This contribution purports to develop an Austinian speech act theory, in which the illocutionary act is described as the communicative move to the hearer that the speaker evaluates her present utterance as. In saying a performative or non-performative utterance, the speaker specifies or indicates the value of the communicative move in identifying herself as a particular addresser, the present hearer as a particular addressee, and the circumstances as a particular context. On the basis of this understanding, I examine different elements in terms of which the success or failure of performing an illocutionary act is determined, which indicate how illocutionary acts are situated in context.

1.

Introduction

The purpose of the present paper is to explain how speech acts are situated in context by examining the internal structure of illocutionary acts according to the revised Austinian speech act theory (Austin 1962). In the standard intentionbased speech act theory advocated by Searle and others (Searle 1969, 1975, 1976, 1979, 1983, 1989[2002]; Searle and Vanderveken 1985; Back and Harnish 1979), contextual elements are generally described as the conditions under which illocutionary acts are felicitously performed, i.e., preparatory conditions, and good resources for the hearer to interpret the speaker’s intention. The standard theory, therefore, does not explain the internal relationship between illocutionary acts and the context which clarifies (i) how performing an illocutionary act is cultureand genre-sensitive (Mey 2002; Fetzer 2006), and (ii) how the speaker mitigates or reinforces the illocutionary force in the ongoing context (Caffi 2007; Sbisà 2001). In the present paper, illocutionary acts are explained in terms of the speaker’s judgment of the value of the present utterance. In uttering something, the speaker is conscious of what communicative move she is making to the hearer, and how the utterance should be taken, i.e., what illocutionary force the utterance has. I claim that, in uttering an explicit performative, the speaker specifies explicitly

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the illocutionary force of the utterance, and in uttering a non-performative, she indicates it. I also claim that Austin’s (1962) felicity conditions provide the elements in terms of which the illocutionary force of the utterance is evaluated. On the basis of this interpretation I explain how the illocutionary force of the utterance is situated in the actual situation in which the utterance is made. The structure of the paper is as follows. In the following section, the revised Austinian speech act theory is proposed, and, in Section 3, I specify the elements in terms of which illocutionary force is evaluated. In Section 4, two classic issues of speech acts, i.e., the meaning-force distinction and the conventionality of speech acts, are addressed. In the final section, I explain, using the revised theory, how an illocutionary act is situated in context, and a short conclusion follows.

2.

What is it to perform an illocutionary act?

2.1

A model of illocutionary acts

To perform an illocutionary act is generally assumed to be an act of doing something, such as naming a ship, pronouncing a sentence, making an appeal, giving a description, promising, congratulating, and numerous other things. It needs of course more precise characterization. In standard speech act theory, the illocutionary act is generally conceived as the act the speaker successfully performs when, uttering a sentence with a certain intention in certain circumstances, she gets the hearer to understand her intention, as is summarized in Sbisà (2001:â•›1795). What is it then to utter a sentence with a certain intention? As Bach (2007) points out, the question is not how uttering a sentence with one intention differs from uttering it with another. I would say it is the question of adequacy of positing the level of illocutionary acts and explaining them in terms of the speaker’s intention. Searle and other standard speech act theorists do not seem to give any clear answer other than circular ones. When one utters something, there is a reason for it, whatever it is. I could explain this by saying that the speaker utters something with an intention, as Searle and others do. This cannot be wrong as a statement about communication, but it is not without misleading implications. An intention is expressed often, or even normally, as “the intention of doing something”, “the intention to do something”, or “the intention that …”. Therefore, uttering something with an intention is normally interpreted as uttering it with a specified and articulated intention. When it . Throughout the present paper, except one case, I refer to the speaker as “she/her” and the hearer as “he/him”. There is, however, no gender implication involved in this usage.



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is said that the speaker utters something with an intention, it is strongly suggested that she has a specified and articulated intention before the utterance. For example, before the speaker says, “Is anything happening on Saturday? I’m having a party at my place, but you might be busy”, she grasps her own intention of inviting the hearer to the party she is planning on Saturday, and mitigating her invitation just in case the hearer cannot come. Communication is then just verbalization of one’s intention, which s/he grasps without language or with mentalese. If so, it is miraculous for a hearer to understand an illocutionary act; to understand an illocutionary act is to understand the speaker’s inner psychological state, i.e., her mind. It is also not clear how the speaker’s intention in this sense determines the illocutionary force of the utterance, which is a physical entity rather than a mental one. According to Searle (1983), uttering something with an intention makes the physical action of uttering it intentional. It is, however, not clear how the intentional action of uttering something makes the end result, such as the utterance itself or its effect, intentional. Furthermore, according to this model, the explanation of the relationship between the speaker’s intention and the illocutionary act she performs would become circular. In saying that the speaker succeeds in performing, say, the illocutionary act of promising when she utters “I will give you the money back on Monday” with the intention of promising of giving the hearer the money back on Monday, neither the intention of promising is explained in terms of the illocutionary act of promising, nor is the illocutionary act of promising explained in terms of the intention of promising: illocutionary acts are simply explained as, or even reduced to, the speaker’s intentions. A similar point is made in Gauker (2007:â•›129). There is no doubt an urge to communicate, which is a driving force to utter something, but it may be subconscious. It seems, therefore, more reasonable to explain this aspect of communication as the process in which the speaker’s urge to communicate, articulated or unarticulated, conscious or subconscious, takes the form of an utterance. This internal urge as a driving force for communication, however, does not entirely determine what to communicate or how to communicate it. There seems to be another level of communication in which the speaker comprehends the present utterance from an outsider’s perspective, and judges its value objectively. That is, the speaker is driven by a certain urge to utter something, and, while articulating what to say, judges the value of the utterance: what communicative move the speaker makes to the hearer in uttering something, how the utterance is to be taken as a piece of communication, and what effect the utterance brings about. As is explained in Section 3, the speaker judges the value of the utterance taking the actual circumstances of the present speech situation into consideration: the speaker judges the value of the utterance situated in the present speech situation.

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Searle and Bach and Harnish could call the speaker’s judgment in this sense the speaker’s intention, and explain communication as the process in which the hearer understands the speaker’s intention. What I am suggesting would be just to rename the speaker’s intention the speaker’s judgment. However, the communication process explained by those speech act theorists is essentially a mental one, and who the speaker and the hearer are, and what situation they are in, do not give much effect on communication: they are only important in so far as they are part of the conditions under which illocutionary acts are felicitously performed, i.e., preparatory conditions, and good resources for the hearer to interpret the speaker’s intention. This is counter-intuitive, and who the speaker and the hearer are, and what situation they are in, have a direct and profound effect on communication. It seems, therefore, more reasonable to assume that, in communication, the speaker interprets the circumstances of the present speech situation, and judges the value of the utterance in terms of those circumstances. It also seems that, in communication, the speaker expresses this judgment of the utterance vis-a-vis the hearer, and invites the hearer’s uptake so that the judgment can be shared. So-called explicit performatives can then be interpreted as a well-developed linguistic means of specifying the value of the utterance through the specification of what the speaker is currently doing in the utterance and its effect, i.e., the illocutionary act of the present utterance and its illocutionary effect. As is shown by the analyses of indirect speech acts (Searle 1975) and different procedures for performing one and the same illocutionary act, such as apologizing and requesting (Fraser 1981; Blum-Kulka et al. 1983), non-explicit performatives can also be given a similar interpretation: in uttering a non-explicit performative, the speaker indicates the value of the utterance. Let me explain this model of illocutionary acts using the following example. Someone’s sincere apology for causing a financial loss might drive you to communicate with him in a certain way, and, while articulating what to say, you judge the value of the present utterance as a communicative move to the hearer, considering the elements of the present speech situation: most significantly, the financial loss was made by the hearer, but he has sincerely apologized for it. You might say “I forgive you”, specifying the current utterance as a communicative move of forgiving for the final loss the hearer made, and inviting him to take the utterance as such. Or you might say “Everyone makes mistakes”, indicating the current utterance as a communicative move of forgiving through the indication that the loss the hearer made is a type of mistake many people make, and expecting him to take the utterance as such. In the model of communication I advocate, to specify or indicate the value of the utterance is explained as specifying or indicating the illocutionary force of



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the utterance. When the specified or indicated illocutionary force as an act is accepted as it is by the hearer and, if applicable, by other participants as well, the illocutionary act in question is performed, and its conventional effects are brought about. To analyse illocutionary acts is then to analyse how the speaker judges the value of the present utterance in terms of certain elements of the speech situation, and brings about a certain consequential effect, the whole process of which is governed by cultural, social, or language- or genre-specific norms. Next I examine the internal structure of illocutionary acts. For explanatory convenience, let me first specify some terminology. The speaker is a particular person whose inner urge produces an utterance. When the speaker evaluates the present utterance as a certain communicative move, she identifies herself as a performer of the communicative move. I call the performer of a communicative move the addresser. The hearer is a particular person to whom the speaker utters something as a communicative move. When the speaker regards the present utterance as a certain communicative move, she identifies the hearer as a receiver of the communicative move. I call the receiver of the communicative move the addressee. When the speaker and the hearer communicate, they are in a particular spatio-temporal location with particular circumstances. When the speaker regards the present utterance as a certain communicative move, she identifies the circumstances of the present speech situation as a felicitous situation of making the communicative move. I call the felicitous situation of making the communicative move the context. If the speaker specifies the present utterance as, say, a communicative move of apologizing, in uttering an explicit performative “I apologize”, the speaker identifies (i) herself as the addresser of apologizing, (ii) the current hearer as the addressee to whom apologizing is made, and (iii) the circumstances of the present speech situation as the context of apologizing. The level of communication revealed by the concept of illocutionary acts in the proposed sense is where, through her evaluation of the present utterance as a communicative move to the hearer, the speaker specifies what she says as a type of act which a particular addresser performs to a particular addressee in a particular context. In uttering an explicit performative, the speaker explicitly specifies the value of the present utterance, i.e., the illocutionary act of the present utterance, and, in doing so, specifies herself, the hearer, and the circumstances of the present speech situation: what addresser the speaker is; what addressee the hearer is; what context they are in. In the case of the illocutionary acts performed by non-explicit performatives, the speaker’s evaluation of the utterance as a certain communicative move is not specified explicitly, but indicated or even hinted by illocutionary force indicating devices (Levinson 1983), the content of the utterance, the way the speaker constructs the utterance, or the circumstances of the present situation. For example, in uttering “Everyone makes mistakes” as a reply

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to a sincere �apology, the speaker identifies herself as the addresser who asserts the general rule that everyone makes mistakes, and indicates herself as the addresser who forgives the addressee for making a mistake, which, she assumes, is a common failure.

2.2 How can performing an illocutionary act be successful? There are several issues concerning the proposed model of illocutionary acts, some of which are discussed by standard speech act theorists, and others which are not. One issue concerns how the speaker evaluates the present utterance. This is taken by Searle (1969, 1976), Searle and Vanderveken (1983), and Vanderveken (2009) as the issue of types of illocutionary act: how one illocutionary act differs from another in terms of its context and effect. The felicitous circumstances for performing an illocutionary act is generally described as the preparatory condition for the illocutionary act. The effect of an illocutionary act is described as the essential condition for the illocutionary act, or by the combination of the propositional content of an utterance and the direction of fit the illocutionary act has. If, as I claim, the illocutionary act is the communicative move to the hearer that the speaker evaluates her present utterance as, the first thing I should do is to specify elements in terms of which communicative moves are evaluated. I do this in the following section while re-analysing Austin’s (1962) felicity conditions. I should then examine how communicative moves are differentiated from one another in terms of those elements, which Austin (1963), and, to some extent, Searle (1969, 1976), Searle and Vanderveken (1983), and Vanderveken (2009) do. Another issue concerns how the illocutionary act is successfully performed. In the standard intention-based speech act theory, the illocutionary act is successful when the speaker gets the hearer to understand the intention with which she utters a sentence. In the proposed theory, on the other hand, the illocutionary act is described as the speaker’s specification or indication of the present utterance as a certain communicative move, together with the speaker’s identification of herself as the addresser of the move, of the hearer as the addressee to whom the move is made, and of the circumstances of the present speech situation as the context of the move. The success of the illocutionary act then depends on the hearer’s acknowledgement of the move the speaker specifies/ indicatesÂ� the present utterance as, and his acceptance of being the addressee to whom the move is made, which amounts to accepting as well the present speaker as the addresser of the move, and the circumstances of the present speech situation as the context of the move.



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The theoretical separation of the addressee from the hearer seems to explain some problematic cases, such as illocutionary acts performed to more than one hearer (Clark and Carlson 1982), as I will explain in 4.2, but it also makes the determination of the success of the illocutionary act more complicated. That is, the success of an illocutionary act is not guaranteed by the hearer’s understanding that the speaker identifies the present utterance as a particular move, but by his acceptance, and indication, of being the addressee of the move. A related issue is how locally the success of performing an illocutionary act is determined. If a speaker, under duress, specifies the present utterance as a promise in saying “I promise …”, and the hearer who does not know the situation takes the utterance as a promise, is the act of promising successful and is the speaker under the obligation of doing what she promises to do? If a speaker who is under the influence of alcohol indicates the present utterance “I will give you my car” as the communicative move of promising, and the hearer who does not know that the speaker is drunk takes it as a promise, is the act of promising successful and is it the speaker’s obligation to give her car to the hearer? The answer is probably no, and this judgment comes from our understanding that the success of an illocutionary act, i.e., the specification of the value of the present utterance, is not determined solely by the judgment of a particular speaker and a particular hearer who are involved. This issue is how a particular speaker can or cannot be the addresser of a particular act, which is governed by social norms. This is to be discussed in Section 4 as the issue of conventionality. The final issue concerns culturally specific or genre-specific ways in which the speaker specifies the value of the present utterance. Mey (2001) provides an example of a conversation in Japanese in which a customer utters “Sumimasen” (“I’m sorry”) to a clerk for an unpaid service, and says “[the expression of apology] appears unexpectedly at a point where we in English assume an expression of gratitude to be in order, such as ‘Thanks a lot’” (2001:â•›263). This shows that the speaker has a choice as to which addresser she assumes herself to be, i.e., an apologizer for causing trouble for the clerk, or an appreciator for an extra service from the clerk, and what communicative move she makes, i.e., apologizing or thanking. A choice is entirely the speaker’s, but there seem to be culturally specific or genrespecific patterns at the speaker’s disposal, in which the social relations between the addresser and the addressee are specified in particular ways, and certain types of speech act tend to occur. I discuss this in the final section, Section 5. In the following section, Austin’s felicity conditions are reexamined as the elements in terms of which the utterance is evaluated as the speaker’s communicative move, i.e., as an illocutionary act.

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3.

How are illocutionary acts evaluated?

3.1 Conventionality of illocutionary acts and instances  of performing illocutionary acts In the preceding section, it is claimed that illocutionary acts are not identified with the speaker’s intention, as standard speech act theorists claim, but with her communicative move to the hearer that the speaker evaluates her present utterance as. The speaker evaluates what she says while evaluating what addresser she is, what addressee the hearer is, and what context they are in. When the speaker explicitly specifies the value of the present utterance by an explicit performative, she specifies the value of the present utterance. In doing so, the speaker specifies herself as a particular addresser, the hearer as a particular addressee, and the circumstances of the present speech situation as a particular context. As is discussed above, there are two issues which concern how the present utterance is evaluated as a communicative move, i.e., an illocutionary act. One is the elements of communication in terms of which the utterance is evaluated as a certain communicative move, and the other is how one value differs from others. The first issue is discussed in the following. Imagine that the speaker evaluates the communicative move of the present utterance, say, as apologizing, and the hearer finds, or even the speaker herself later finds that it is not the value of the utterance. The hearer might say “Don’t apologize. It is not your fault”, or “It’s not to me that you should apologize”. The judgment against assigning a value, say, apologizing, to the present utterance comes from the understanding of the value itself and the present speech situation: the value of the communicative move of apologizing is such that the present speaker cannot be the addresser of apologizing, the present hearer cannot be the addressee to whom the communicative move of apologizing is made, or the circumstances cannot be the context of apologizing. This aspect of illocutionary acts is explained by Austin (1962:â•›14) as felicity conditions (A.1) and (A.2): (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. . Austin’s felicity conditions are often assumed to be the conditions for performatives, not for illocutionary acts in general. This is, however, not what Austin himself believes. See Sbisà (2007:â•›464) for this argument.



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Using the felicity conditions (A.1) and (A.2), Austin explains the values of illocutionary acts in terms of their conventional effects, which are produced only by the particular utterances of particular persons in particular circumstances. That is, by means of the concept of conventional effects, Austin shows a particular relationship among utterances, an addressee, an addresser, and a context: a certain utterance counts as an illocutionary act and brings about a conventional effect only under the condition that the speaker utters it as a particular addresser, to the hearer as a particular addressee, in the circumstances of a particular context. In other words, one utterance can be given different values depending on what addressee the speaker utters it as, what addressee she utters it to, and what context she utters it in. An illocutionary act, such as apologizing, is not only the name of the effect produced by the utterance, but that of the value of the utterance as a communicative move, which consists in a particular relationship among utterances, the addresser, the addressee, and the context. Values of utterances as communicative moves, i.e., illocutionary acts, are Â�language-, culture-, and genre-specific. There are different inventories of illocutionary acts in different languages. Austin says that, in going all through a dictionary in search of verbs such that to say “I x” is to do “x”, one can find words which make explicit the illocutionary force of an utterance. Such a search will show an inventory of illocutionary acts in one language, and, if it is compared with those in different languages, similarities and differences of illocutionary acts among different languages can be clarified. This is based on the idea that words which make explicit the illocutionary force of an utterance in one language correspond roughly to illocutionary acts in the language. The relationship among utterances, the addresser, the addressee, and the context specified by the illocutionary act are language-, culture-, and genrespecific, too. For example, the context of the act of congratulating in Japanese includes the addressee’s birthday and a new year: “Otanjobi omedetoo” literally means “Congratulations for your birthday”; “Shinnen omedetoo” literally means

. This quotation is from sheet no. 114 of the manuscript from which Austin’s How to Do Things with Words was published. The manuscript is conserved at the Bodleian Library in Oxford. I read it in 2003 and 2004, and own a copy on microfilm. Sbisà (2007:â•›462f) describes the manuscript as follows: “… It comprises various sets of notes written from 1950 to 1955, among which are those used by Austin for lecturing at Harvard [Austin’s William James Lectures].” . Since there are illocutionary acts which do not have an explicit performative format, such as the act of insulting and insinuating, a search might be extended to include those verbs. It is, however, possible that the values of these acts do not consist in the same relationship among utterances, an addresser, an addressee, and a context as those of the acts with an explicit performative format, and a further analysis is necessary.

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â•œÂ�Congratulations for a new year”. The context of the act of congratulating in English does not include those situations, . Austin’s (1962) felicity conditions (A.1) and (A.2) clarify and explain the conventional aspects of communication: illocutionary acts are specified in terms of conventional effects which are only brought about in a particular relationship among utterances, the addresser, the addressee, and the context. Another element concerns particular persons, i.e., the present speaker and the present hearer, which Austin (1962:â•›14) explains in felicity conditions (B.1) and (B.2): (B.1) (B.2)

The procedure must be executed by all participants both correctly and completely.

Usually Austin’s felicity conditions (B.1) and (B.2) are not given any significance. This is because felicity conditions (A.1) and (A.2) specify that there are certain persons and circumstances for an illocutionary act to be conventionally successful, and those persons do not have to be specified again by separate felicity conditions. However, if the speaker and the hearer are theoretically separated from the addresser and the addressee, the picture of illocutionary acts looks quite different, and there are enough reasons for positing felicity conditions (B.1) and (B.2). As I explained above, felicity conditions (A.1) and (A.2) specify what addressee the speaker has to be and what addresser the hearer has to be for an illocutionary act to be performed, and these conditions do not specify how the speaker and the hearer have to act. Even though there are conventions for performing an illocutionary act which specify the effect and persons and circumstances, a particular instance of performing the illocutionary act does not occur unless particular persons, the present speaker and the present hearer, act in a certain way. The speaker always has a choice to perform a different illocutionary act, i.e., a different communicative move in the proposed sense, or not to perform any illocutionary act at all. The hearer also has a choice not to acknowledge the illocutionary act even though the speaker goes through the procedure of performing an illocutionary act according to the convention. An illocutionary act fails also when the speaker says a wrong thing by mistake, or the hearer does not hear what the speaker says, and, therefore, does not react to it.

. I thank Hartmut Haberland for pointing this out in our private conversation. . One could dispute that the act of congratulating is culture-specific in saying that the act performed by saying “Omedetoo …” is not the act of congratulating in some cases. That is, the act of congratulating and that of giving a wish are not distinguished lexically in Japanese.



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The illocutionary force of the utterance is determined by the action of the present speaker who identifies herself as a particular addresser, and by the action of the hearer who accepts to be the addressee the speaker assumes him to be. For example, when a judge hesitates to perform the illocutionary act of sentencing to a mother who euthanized her own child who suffered great pains, the hesitation does not lie in the convention: in this court situation it is felicitous for her to be the addresser of sentencing the mother to imprisonment. The hesitation seems to concern the moral judgment of the speaker as a particular person. When the speaker finally performs the act of sentencing, she does not go through the act of sentencing according to the convention, but makes the utterance an act of sentencing on her own decision. Similarly, when a person wonders if he should accept to be the addressee of being offered condolence for a divorce, which he and his former wife both wanted, the issue is not whether it is conventionally appropriate for the speaker to offer condolence for someone’s divorce. This is concerned more with the judgment of the hearer as a particular person about whether or not the termination of his unhappy marriage should be offered condolence for. When the hearer finally accepts the speaker’s act of offering condolence, believing a feeling of sadness or disappointment as well as that of relief is involved in this divorce, and says, “I really appreciate your concern”, the speaker can complete the act of offering condolence. These examples show that the speaker and the hearer choose to perform or accept a particular illocutionary act on her/his own decision, considering her/ himself as the addresser/addressee of a particular type of act. Austin’s felicity conditions (A.1) and (A.2) specify the conventions of illocutionary acts, which explain what illocutionary acts are possible and how those illocutionary acts are performed by a particular addresser to a particular addressee in a particular context to produce their conventional effects. Austin’s felicity conditions (B.1) and (B.2) specify the instances of illocutionary acts, where a speaker’s actual act of performing an illocutionary act is accepted as it is by a particular hearer, and a conventional effect is brought about.

3.2 Strength of illocutionary acts As is shown by the distinction between Roman alphabets and Greek alphabets Austin uses, the evaluation of the utterance specified by felicity conditions (Γ.1) and (Γ.2) is not on the same level as those specified by the felicity conditions (A.1) to (B.2). As Austin says, if felicity conditions (A.1) to (B.2) are satisfied, the illocutionary act is performed, and a conventional effect is brought about. In the model proposed, an illocutionary act becomes successful and a consequential effect is brought about when the speaker evaluates the present utterance as a Â�certain

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communicative move ((A.1) and (A.2)), and specifies/indicates the value and the hearer accepts it ((B.1) and (B.2)). Why are felicity conditions (Γ.1) and (Γ.2) necessary then? Let us imagine that the speaker says “I’m sorry” to the hearer who has been kept waiting for her for the meeting they agreed to have. According to felicity conditions (A.1) and (A.2), the speaker indicates the value of the present utterance as apologizing: the speaker is the addresser of apologizing, the hearer is the addressee of apologizing, and the circumstances of the present speech situation are the context of apologizing. The addresser is responsible for a wrong action (or a lack of a necessary action), regrets it, and asks the addressee for forgiveness; the addressee suffers from the wrong action (or the lack of a necessary action) the addresser is responsible for, and is asked for forgiveness; the context is where the wrong action has occurred or the necessary action has not occurred, for which the addresser is responsible. According to felicity conditions (B.1) and (B.2), when the speaker actually indicates the value of apologizing as the value of the utterance, and the hearer accepts it, the speaker succeeds in performing the act of apologizing and a conventional effect of the hearer’s forgiveness of the speaker is brought about. To indicate the value is, more specifically, indicate that (i) the speaker is responsible for being late for the meeting, regrets it, and asks the hearer for forgiveness, (ii) the hearer suffers from the speaker’s late arrival and is asked for forgiveness, and (iii) the speaker’s late arrival causes trouble for starting the meeting. For the hearer to express forgiveness is to accept the value of the utterance as apologizing, and the identification of the speaker, the hearer himself, and the circumstances of the present speech situation according to the value. What if the speaker says “I’m sorry” to the hearer in this situation just to be polite? The speaker does not really regret being late, and probably will be late again, and the hearer also knows it. How should this be described? Has the speaker apologized superficially? Has the speaker apologized just as a formality as is the case of apologies of a telephone operator to an angry customer? Even if the hearer says “That’s all right” or something equivalent in this situation, the act of apologizing would be performed only infelicitously. In other cases, saying “I’m sorry” superficially risks the success of the act of apologizing itself, just like the case of a politician apologizing too superficially to a political opponent, which is rejected as an apology (Olshtain 1989). Let us examine another example. The speaker is a young daughter who says “You look beautiful, mom” to her mother, who had plastic surgery on her face after a car accident. The value of the utterance as the illocutionary act of

. This example is taken from Thomas (1995).



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Â� complimenting or reassuring is not guaranteed by the speaker and the hearer who just follow the convention of either act. It is rather by the speaker who is determined to be the addresser of the act, i.e., the speaker who sincerely thinks that the hearer is beautiful. Felicity conditions (Γ.1) and (Γ.2) seem to specify this aspect of the illocutionary act. Let us see them in the following: (Γ.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 (Γ.2) must actually so conduct themselves subsequently. This aspect might be explained as the strength of the illocutionary act. It is explained, in the proposed framework, that the value of the utterance as a communicative move is evaluated in terms of the strength of specification/indication of the value of the utterance, which is based on the speaker’s responsibility: how identical the speaker’s own thoughts, feelings, and intentions for a future action are with those of the addresser she says the present utterance as. Let us summarize the arguments so far. In the proposed theory, the illocutionary act is described as the communicative move to the hearer the speaker evaluates her present utterance as. The utterance as a communicative move is evaluated in terms of several different elements, and Austin’s felicity conditions are reexamined as these elements. Austin’s felicity conditions (A.1) and (A.2) seem to specify the conventions of the utterance as a communicative move. Through the conventional effects the utterance brings about, that is, the illocutionary effect, the utterance’s value is associated with a particular addresser who performs the act, a particular addressee to whom the act is performed, and a particular context in which the act is performed. Different types of illocutionary act are not only different values of illocutionary effects, but also different relations among an addresser, an addressee, and a context. Austin’s felicity conditions (B.1) and (B.2) specify instances of the utterance as a communicative move. A particular speaker says an utterance while specifying/ indicating the utterance as a particular illocutionary act, i.e., a particular communicative move. This is also to specify/indicate herself, the present hearer, and the circumstances of the present speech situation as the addresser, the addressee, and the context of the illocutionary act. When the hearer accepts this, and the utterance, the speaker, the hearer, and the circumstances of the present speech situation are specified accordingly, a conventional effect is brought about in the present speech situation.

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Austin’s felicity conditions (Γ.1) and (Γ.2) specify strength of the utterance as a communicative move. There are various degrees to which the speaker identifies herself as the addresser of a particular illocutionary act, and, accordingly, there are various degrees to which she identifies her own thought, feeling, and intention of doing a future action with those of the addresser. Depending on these, various degrees of illocutionary force are given to the utterance, and, as a result, the illocutionary effect with various degrees of strength is given to the present speech situation.

4.

The issues of speech acts

In this section two of the classical issues of speech acts, the meaning-force distinction and the conventionality of illocutionary acts, are reexamined according to the model of illocutionary acts proposed.

4.1 The meaning-force distinction Let us start with Searle’s argument about the distinction between speaker/utterance meaning and the speaker’s intention. Searle (1965[1991]) convincingly argues for the distinction using the following example. An American soldier was captured by Italian troops during the Second World War. Not remembering any German sentences except a poem learnt in a high school German course, he said “Kennst du das Land, wo die Zitronen blühen? (Knowest thou the land where the lemon trees bloom?)” to Italian soldiers hoping that the utterance would make them believe that he was a German officer. The speaker’s intention of producing the effect of making the hearers believe that he was a German officer does not make the speaker/utterance meaning that “I am a German officer” out of the interrogative sentence asking if the hearer knows the land where the lemon trees bloom. Searle does not seem to equate the speaker’s intention of producing the effect on the hearer in this case with the speaker’s intention with which the utterance is made: the illocutionary force/act of the utterance. If one did within standard speech act theory, this example would show that speaker/utterance meaning should be clearly distinguished from illocutionary force/act of the utterance. The issue, however, is not so simple when the illocutionary act is defined as the value of the utterance the speaker specifies/indicates. The question is first and foremost whether or not the speaker judged the value of the utterance as asserting he was a German soldier. The answer is obviously no, but it can be said that the speaker pretended to specify the utterance as asserting. That is, in uttering the



How are speech acts situated in context? 195

sentence in German, the speaker pretended to indicate the value of the utterance as asserting that something is a case, identifying himself the addresser of asserting, the hearers as the addressee to whom the act of asserting was made, and the circumstances of the present speech situation as the context of asserting: in the situation in which the speaker’s identity was in question, the speaker asserted that he was a German soldier, and the hearers were invited to believe it. The reason why the utterance “Kennst du das Land, wo die Zitronen blühen?” cannot be the act of asserting that the speaker was a German soldier is that the literal meaning of the utterance is such that it cannot be given the value of asserting. The reason the utterance can be the pretense of asserting is that, if the hearers did not know German, the utterance might have produced the effect similar to those made by the utterances in German meaning “I am a German officer” or “I am glad to meet soldiers from the Axis alliance”. This pretense is possible because of the present speaker, the present hearers, and the circumstances of the present speech situation: a German-speaking officer was speaking in a friendly manner to the hearers, who looked obviously to be Italian soldiers, in the war situation where the Allied nations were fighting against the Axis nations. As is explained in the preceding section, to evaluate the utterance as a particular communicative move is to interpret the meaning of the utterance in terms of the present speaker, the present hearer, the circumstances of the present speech situation: (i) what addresser the speaker identifies herself as, what addressee the speaker identifies the hearer as, and what context the speaker identifies the circumstances of the present speech situation as; (ii) how the speaker makes the utterance and the hearer responds to it; (iii) how identical the feelings, thoughts, and intentions of doing a future action of the speaker are with those of the addresser. In other words, through the concept of the values of the utterance as a communicative move which produces a specific effect, i.e., illocutionary acts, the meaning of the utterance is interpreted in terms of (i) the speaker as a particular addresser, the hearer as a particular addressee, and the circumstances of the present speech situation as a particular context, (ii) the utterance/response of the speaker and the hearer, and (iii) the speaker’s feelings, thoughts, and intentions. In this interpretation, the utterance has a force which produces an effect when its literal meaning is correlated with these elements of the speech situation. The literal meaning of the utterance is a component of the force of the utterance, but not the force itself.

. Austin would simply say that to make the hearers believe that the speaker is a German soldier is to perform a perlocutionary act. The intention of performing this perlocutionary act does not make the illocutionary act of asserting that he is a German soldier. It does not make the speaker/utterance meaning that the speaker is a German soldier, either.

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The above case of pretense shows a strong interrelation between the literal meaning of the utterance and these elements of the speech situation in terms of which the value of the utterance is specified. Usually the literal meaning of the utterance is correlated with the elements of the speech situation, and given a particular value, i.e., an illocutionary act. There are also the cases in which the speaker, the hearer, and circumstances of the speech situation are such that the force of the utterance is given a particular value, and, on the basis of the given value, the meaning of the utterance is interpreted or guessed. That is, the elements of the speech situation were such that the hearers who did not know German might have interpreted the value as asserting regardless of the literal meaning of the utterance. This point is further discussed in Section 5. The proposed explanation of the relationship between the literal meaning of the utterance and its force is compatible with the intuitions that the utterances of different sentences can be evaluated as the same communicative move, i.e., the same illocutionary act, and that different utterances of the same sentence can be evaluated as different communicative moves, i.e., different illocutionary acts. The value of apologizing might be given to either utterance “I’m sorry” or “It was my fault”, when it is correlated with the elements of the speech situation, such as the circumstances in which the speaker’s careless action caused the hearer trouble, or the speaker who utters it showing her deepest regret. The utterance “Everyone makes mistakes” might be given the value of forgiving when it is correlated with the elements of the speech situation, such as the circumstances in which the hearer’s mistake cost the speaker a financial loss but he sincerely apologized for it. The utterance “Everyone makes mistakes” in a different speech situation might be given the value of begging for forgiveness when it is correlated with the elements of this speech situation, such as when the speaker utters it to the hearer who is angry about the speaker’s silly action.

4.2 Conventionality of illocutionary acts Strawson (1974[1991]) raises the issue of conventionality of illocutionary acts. The basic argument goes as follows. Strawson examines Austin’s idea that illocutionary acts are conventional: according to Austin, “[t]here 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” (felicity condition (A.1)). Strawson claims, against Austin’s idea, that, while illocutionary acts such as naming, marrying, and sentencing, which are usually called institutional illocutionary acts, are conventional, others such as apologizing and congratulating are not: socially established conventions are not necessary



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for the latter type of illocutionary act to be successful. For example, the performer of naming a ship has to go through the socially-established procedure of naming a ship, which specifies the person to name, the way of naming a ship, and so on. In the case of apologizing, on the other hand, there does not seem to be a convention to specify the act of apologizing and its procedure: anyone can apologize for almost anything. Strawson then tries to figure out the sense in which all illocutionary acts are “conventional”. Strawson concludes that the speaker’s invitation for the hearer’s uptake, which is common to all illocutionary acts, is “conventional”. The speaker’s locutionary act of saying, for example, “I’m sorry” does not produce the effect of apologizing: for this utterance to be the illocutionary act of apologizing, the hearer who understands the utterance as the act of apologizing is necessary. This was explained in the preceding section as follows. For a particular value as an illocutionary act to be given to the communicative move of the utterance, the value has to be not only specified/indicated by the present speaker but also understood and accepted by the present hearer: the hearer has to understand and accept that the utterance is made as a particular communicative move by the speaker as a particular addresser to the hearer as a particular addressee in the circumstances as a particular context. The conventionality of illocutionary acts then can be interpreted as a conventional relationship among the speaker, the addresser, the hearer, and the addressee for an illocutionary act to be performed successfully and bring about a conventional effect: the speaker performs an illocutionary act as a particular addresser to the hearer as a particular addressee, and invites the hearer to understand and accept this through his understanding and acceptance of being the addressee. This interpretation of conventionality of illocutionary acts makes illocutionary acts in general quasi-mental acts. A non-institutional illocutionary act is successful when the speaker performs it as a particular addresser to the hearer as a particular addressee, and invites the hearer to understand and accept this, and the hearer in fact understands and accepts it. In this sense, the speaker’s and the hearer’s understanding of the utterance as an illocutionary act basically determines the success of the act. Performing an institutional illocutionary act is basically the same except that the procedure of performing the act is conventionally specified. This idea of illocutionary acts is compatible with, or even complementary to, the standard speech act theory: the illocutionary act is the intention with which the speaker utters the sentence, and becomes successful when the speaker gets the hearer to understand the intention. Other elements in terms of which the illocutionary act of the utterance seems to be evaluated and the success of the illocutionary act seems to be determined, especially those explained by Austin as felicity conditions (B.1), (B2), (Γ.1) and (Γ.2), are ignored, or given only Â�partial

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importance. This is one of the reasons why Austin’s felicity conditions are assumed to be conditions for performatives, not those for illocutionary acts in general, although Austin himself claims the contrary. This idea of the illocutionary acts, however, faces a problem, which is to be explained in the following. Clark and Carlson (1984[1991]) seem to show that the hearer’s understanding that the speaker performs an illocutionary act as a particular addresser to the hearer as a particular addressee does not guarantee the success of the illocutionary act. Clark and Carlson examine an illocutionary act performed to two or more hearers. Suppose the speaker, Ann, says to the hearers, Bob and Mary, “Please bring a bottle of Glenlivet”, intending to request them to jointly bring a bottle of Glenlivet. According to the Strawsonian model, the act is successful when the speaker utters it as an addresser of requesting the hearers to bring a bottle of Glenlivet together, and invites the hearers to understand and accept this, and the hearers in fact understand and accept it. However, even when the hearers understand this and accept to be the addressees of requesting, the illocutionary act is not successful unless Bob and Mary bring a bottle of Glenlivet together. That is, for the utterance “Please bring a bottle of Glenlivet” uttered to Bob and Mary to be successful as the act of the requesting, the hearers, on top of their uptake of the illocutionary act, have to arrange so that either one, but not both, will bring a bottle of Glenlivet to the speaker. Arranging how either hearer acts to comply with the request is a unique part of the request made to two or more hearers. However, reacting to the illocutionary act purported in a certain way is necessary for an illocutionary act of requesting to be successful: if the speaker says to Bob alone “Please bring a bottle of Glenlivet”, he has to bring a bottle of Glenlivet or do something equivalent for the requesting to be achieved. The hearer’s reaction seems necessary for illocutionary acts in general; although it can be given non-verbally, by performing a certain action, or even in a more subtle way, the hearer’s reacting to the purported illocutionary act in a certain way is necessary for the success of illocutionary acts in general, as Austin shows by his felicity condition (B.2). Clark and Carlson’s example and analysis can be interpreted as a support for the argument that the success or failure of the illocutionary act does not depend only on understanding the value of the utterance as an illocutionary act, which is based on the conventional relationship among the speaker, the addresser, the hearer, and the addressee for the illocutionary act to be successful. It rather depends on other elements of the speech situation as well, which include the hearer’s reaction to complete the illocutionary act (B.2), and his future action (Γ.2). Sbisà (2007) explains the conventionality of the illocutionary acts beyond the hearer’s uptake: she explains the conventionality of illocutionary effects, and



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the speaker’s responsibilities which are caused by them. As Searle (1969) explains as the essential condition for illocutionary acts, there is a conventional relationship between an illocutionary act and its effect. The successfully performed illocutionary act, for example, apologizing always brings about the effect of the speaker being forgiven for the wrong action she made (or the necessary action she did not make). As I showed in the previous section, the conventionality of illocutionary effects and the speaker’s responsibility caused by them can be explained along the line suggested by Austin’s felicity conditions, in particular felicity conditions (B.1), (Γ.1) and (Γ.2). The speaker is specified, by felicity condition (B.1), to be responsible for performing the illocutionary act in question as a particular addresser to the hearer as a particular addressee in the circumstances of a particular context. With the hearer’s understanding and acceptance of the illocutionary act, the speaker makes the instance of the illocutionary act. That is, felicity condition (B.1) specifies the speaker whose responsibility for making a particular illocutionary act is such that the utterance, with the hearer’s understanding and acceptance, counts as a particular act which brings about a conventional effect. Felicity conditions (Γ.1) and (Γ.2) specify the speaker as a particular person whose feelings, thoughts, or intentions for a future action are such that she produces the conventional effect of the illocutionary act with strength, which guarantees the change of the circumstances of the speech situation. To explain different aspects of the illocutionary act explained by felicity condition (B.1) and felicity conditions (Γ.1–2), let us take the following examples. The speaker who says “I’m sorry” for being late for the meeting, without feeling sorry, can perform the act of apologizing on a socially acceptable level: the speaker indicates the value of the present utterance as apologizing, identifying herself the addresser of apologizing, the hearer as the addressee of apologizing, and the circumstances of the present speech situation as the context of apologizing. When she is responsible, though light-heartedly, for her indication of the value of the utterance, and the hearer understands and accepts it, although he knows that the speaker is not really sorry, the speaker can make the act of apologizing, though superficially. The illocutionary effect is brought about on a superficial level, and the speaker is forgiven for being late superficially, but real changes of the circumstances are not brought about: the hearer is still angry with the speaker, or the circumstances of the speech situation were such that an apology was not necessary but it was made anyway as a sign of politeness. It is only when the speaker is really sorry for what she has done, i.e., the speaker feels as the addresser of apologizing does, as is specified by (Γ.1), and intends not to make the same mistake again; i.e., the speaker intends as the addresser of the apologizing does, as is specified by (Γ.2), the speaker makes an act

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of apologizing with strength, which brings about changes of the circumstances. For example, the circumstances in which the hearer is very angry with the speaker because he lost a fortune following the speaker’s financial advice will not change unless the speaker sincerely regrets what she has done to the hearer, and intends not to do such a thing again. In the proposed theory, the conventionality of illocutionary acts is the relationship between illocutionary acts and the elements of the speech situation which make the illocutionary act successful. Those conventions have been analyzed along the line of Austin’s explanations of felicity conditions. In the following section, I will show how illocutionary acts are situated in the speech situation, using these conventional relationships.

5.

How are illocutionary acts situated?

According to the model proposed, an illocutionary act is successful when the speaker specifies/indicates the value of the utterance as a communicative move, and the elements of the speech situation are in fact as specified. There seem to be, however, cultural, social, or language- or genre-specific factors for determining how the force of the utterance is specified, and also the success/failure of the illocutionary act. As was explained in the former section, the inventory of illocutionary acts in one language differs from those in other languages. The inventories of illocutionary acts in languages might be shared in large part, but it is not surprising to find illocutionary acts which exist only in certain languages. There are also linguistic and cultural diversities involved in the way of specifying/indicating the value of the utterance. As Austin (1962:â•›31) points out, a German speaker could, in limited situations, specify explicitly the value of the utterance as insulting, while an English or Japanese speaker can only indicate it in saying something which makes the hearer feel insulted. While a Muslim speaker can divorce a Muslim spouse in specifying the value of the utterance as divorcing, and repeating it three times, speakers in other cultures have to go through a more institutional procedure to get divorced. These cases show there are differences among languages and cultures in the types of illocutionary act the speaker can perform in saying something, and also in the ways she can perform an illocutionary act: the speaker explicitly specifies the illocutionary act, implicitly indicates it, or is given a choice between the two. There is a conventional relationship among the addresser, the addressee, and the context for an illocutionary act to be successfully performed, and culture- or genre-specific factors influence the judgment whether a particular speaker can



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be the addresser of the illocutionary act, or a particular hearer can be the addressee of the illocutionary act, or particular circumstances can be the context of the illocutionary act. As I explained in the former section (3.1), the illocutionary act of congratulating can be performed for the hearer’s birthday and a new year in Japanese culture, but the act of giving a wish is performed for them in some other cultures. Anyone can be the addresser of giving a compliment on others’ belongings, but, in a hierarchical business community, an inferior cannot be the addresser of giving a compliment on her superior’s business achievement: such an attempt could be taken as an insult (Holmes 1988). There seem to be culture- or genre-specific patterns for what addresser the speaker assumes to be in a given situation. As I explained in 2.2, Japanese speakers tend to be the addresser of apologizing for favors given by the hearer, rather than the addresser of thanking for them. Politicians try not to be the addresser of apologizing even when they are to be blamed (Olshtain 1989), while people in a day-to-day situation easily become the addresser of apologizing for small mishaps like bumping into someone. Tolerance for the gap between the speaker’s thoughts, feelings, and intentions of doing a future action and those of the addresser is culture- or genre-specific as well. The illocutionary act of congratulating by the speaker who does not feel happy about the promotion of her rival can be tolerated as a business custom, but the illocutionary act of advising by the speaker who suggests, as a professional adviser, something which she believes harmful to the hearer cannot be tolerated. Language-, culture-, and genre-specificities of performing an illocutionary act come from the fact the speaker has a choice, as well as the limitation, of what illocutionary act she performs and how she performs it. The speaker does not perform an illocutionary act randomly, and social or cultural elements the speaker considers in making a decision can be bundled as culture- and genre-specific patterns. They work in two opposite directions. Owing to the culture- and genrespecificÂ� patterns at her disposal, the speaker tends to make a communicative move with a certain value, through which she is specified as a certain addresser, the hearer as a certain addressee, and the circumstances as a certain context. The speaker also tends to identify herself with a certain addresser, the hearer with a certain addressee, and the circumstances with a certain context, and, through this identification, the utterance is given a particular value. Mey (2001:â•›219) says, “[s]peech acts, in order to be effective, have to be situated. That is to say, they both rely on, and actively create, the situation in which they are realized” (original emphasis). In one sense, to perform an illocutionary act gives a particular value to the utterance through the specification of the speaker, the hearer, and the circumstances: speech acts rely on the situation. In another sense, it creates and reinforces the conceptions of a particular addresser,

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a particular addressee, and a particular context through the value of the utterance: speech acts create the situation. So-called mitigation/reinforcement phenomena seem to be the process in which the speaker specifies/identifies the communicative move with a stronger or weaker force. As Caffi (2007) and Sbisà (2001) point out, the speaker mitigates or reinforces the illocutionary act by adding certain words or particles which give the utterance a weaker or stronger illocutionary force, or by specifying/indicating a certain element of the speech situation which gives the utterance a stronger or weaker illocutionary force. Social considerations for which the speaker mitigates or reinforces the illocutionary act are often described as considerations of politeness.

6.

Conclusion

In the present paper, an Austinian speech act theory is proposed. In this theory, illocutionary acts are described as values of the utterance as a communicative move, and these values are determined by a relationship between utterances and the present speech situation, which is composed of the speaker, the hearer, and the circumstances. The speaker specifies/indicates the value of the communicative move in identifying herself as a particular addresser, the present hearer as a particular addressee, and the circumstances as a particular context. On the basis of this understanding, I describe different elements in terms of which the success or failure of performing an illocutionary act is determined. They are called conventionality, instances, and strength of illocutionary acts. Classic issues of the meaning-force distinction and conventionality of illocutionary acts are reanalyzed in the proposed framework. In the last part of the paper, cultural and genre specificities of language use are explained as the situatedness of illocutionary acts, and how illocutionary acts are situated is explained.

References Austin, John L. 1962. How to do Things with Words. Oxford: Clarendon Press. Bach, Kent and Harnish, Robert M. 1979. Linguistic Communication and Speech Acts. Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press. Bach, Kent. 2007. “Searle against the world: How can experiences find their objects?” In Savas L. Tsohatzidis (ed), John Searle’s Philosophy of Language: Force, Meaning and Mind. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 64–78. Blum-Kulka, Shoshana and Olshtain, Elite. 1984. “Requests and apologies: A cross-cultural study of speech act realization patterns (CCSARP)”. Applied Linguistics 5(3): 196–213.



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Caffi, Claudia. 2007. Mitigation. Amsterdam: Elsevier. Clark, Herbert H. and Carlson, Thomas B. 1982. “Speech acts and hearer’s beliefs”. In Neilson V. Smith (ed), Mutual Knowledge. London: Academic Press. 1–36. [Reprinted in Steven Davis (ed.). 1991. Pragmatics: A Reader. New York and Oxford: Oxford University Press. 177–198.] Fetzer, Anita. 2002. “Communicative intentions in context”. In Anita Fetzer and Christiane Meierkord (eds), Rethinking Sequentiality: Linguistics meets Conversation Interaction. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. 173–201. Fetzer, Anita. 2006. “‘Minister, we will see how the public judges you.’ Media references in political interviews”. Journal of Pragmatics 38: 180–195. Fraser, Bruce. 1981. “On apologizing”. In Florian Coulmas (ed), Conversational Routine. The Hague: Mouton. 259–71. Gauker, Christopher. 2007. “On the alleged priority of thought over language”. In Savas L. TsohatzidisÂ� (ed), John Searle’s Philosophy of Language: Force, Meaning and Mind. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. 125–142. Gazdar, Gerald. 1979. Pragmatics. New York: The Academic Press. Holmes, Janet. 1988. “Paying compliments: A sex-preferential positive politeness strategy”. Journal of Pragmatics 12(3): 445–65. Levinson, Stephen C. 1983. Pragmatics. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Mey, Jacob L. 2001. Pragmatics: An introduction. 2nd Edition. Oxford: Blackwell. Olshtain, Elite. 1989. “Apologies across languages”. In Shoshana Blum-Kulka, Juliane House, and Gabriele Kasper (eds), Cross-Cultural Pragmatics: Requests and Apologies. Norwood: Ablex. Sbisà, Marina. 2001. “Illocutionary force and degrees of strength in language use”. Journal of Pragmatics 33: 1791–1814. Sbisà, Marina. 2007. “How to read Austin”. Pragmatics 17: 461–473. Searle, John R. 1965. “What is a speech act?” In Max Black (ed), Philosophy in America. Boston: Unwin Hyman. 221–239. [Reprinted in Steven Davis (ed). 1991. Pragmatics: A Reader. New York, Oxford: Oxford University Press. 254–264.] Searle, John R. 1969. Speech Acts. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Searle, John R. 1975. “Indirect speech acts”. In Peter Cole and Jerry L. Morgan (eds), Syntax and Semantics III: Speech Acts. New York: Academic Press. [Reprinted in John R. Searle. 1979. 30–57.] Searle, John R. 1976. “A classification of illocutionary acts”. Language and Society 5: 1–23. Searle, John R. 1979. Expression and Meaning: Studies in the Theory of Speech Acts. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Searle, John R. 1983. Intentionality: An Essay in the Philosophy of Mind. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Searle, John R. 1989. “How performatives work”. Linguistics and Philosophy 12: 535–558. [Reprinted in Daniel Vanderveken and Susumo Kubo (eds.). 2002. Essays in Speech Act Theory. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. 85–107.] Searle, John R. and Vanderveken, Daniel. 1985. Foundations of Illocutionary Logic. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Strawson, Peter F. 1974. “Intention and convention in speech acts”. Philosophical Review 73: 439–460. [Reprinted in Steven Davis (ed.). 1991. Pragmatics: A Reader. New York and Oxford: Oxford University Press. 177–198.] Thomas, Jenny. 1995. Meaning in Interaction. London: Longman.

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Vanderveken, Daniel. 2009. Meaning and Speech Acts (vol. 1 and 2). Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Wierzbicka, Anna. 2003. Cross-cultural Pragmatics: The Semantics of Human Interaction. Berlin and New York: Mouton de Gruyter.

Context: An adaptive perspective Thanh Nyan From an adaptive perspective, context construction is construable as a way of handling variation in the external environment. As such, it is a part of the action selection process, which is governed by adaptive values. This contribution examines in what way context results from the intervention of such values. By contrast with more mainstream approaches, which tend to favour a personal level of analysis, this project views context in terms of perceptual and conceptual categorization, attention selection and decision making. The underlying assumptions are drawn mainly from Damasio’s model of decision making (Damasio 1994) and Edelman’s Theory of Neuronal Group Selection (Edelman 1989, 1992), both of which are concerned with how the brain – as a selective system – handles contextual change.

1.

Introduction

At its most basic, context can be looked upon as a non focal element which is, in some way, necessary to the occurrence of a focal element. If we take this focal element to be adaptive action, this relationship can be further specified as follows: From an adaptive perspective variation is characteristic of external environments, and any environmental change is potentially relevant to survival. Granted this, if one were to assume that action selection cannot take place unless the nature of this change has been identified, the question arises as to how this can be achieved. The answer – I propose – lies in context construction, the function of which would be to handle variation for the purpose of action selection. On this view, context is necessary to action selection because it provides an assessment of the external environment. As the product of context construction, such an assessment would be determined by adaptive (or internal) values. . Such values, which were selected by evolution, correspond to “innate preferences” of the organism related to its survival (Damasio 1994:â•›181). Their influence is exercised through the “signalling activity of areas mediating homeostatic – autonomic, hedonic, neuroendocrince€– brain functions.” (Edelman 189:â•›98).

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The aim of this contribution is twofold: – To further our understanding of what context is in relation to non linguistic action by examining the way in which adaptive (or internal) values inform the nature of this relationship. – To extend this analysis to context and linguistic action, thereby providing a bridge to context construction as construed in discussions on common ground construction.  (Fetzer and Fischer 2007) This project is closely linked to a current project on context construction and discourse markers, with which it shares a set of assumptions arising mainly from Damasio’s model of decision making (Damasio 1994) and Edelman’s Theory of Neuronal Group Selection (TNGS) (Edelman 1989, 1992). Both theories, which build on Darwin’s theory of evolution (Darwin 1859), are concerned with how the brain – as a selective system – handles contextual change. Damasio addresses the issue at the decision-making level, and places emotions and feelings, which he construes as “powerful manifestation(s) of drives and instincts” (Damasio 1994:â•›115), at the centre of this process. The TNGS focuses on higher brain functions, such as categorization, memory, concept formation and learning, as linked to survival. It also sees consciousness as an integral part of the overall picture. In respect of language, both theories take for granted that: a. it is grounded in our neurobiology; b. as a latecomer in the evolutionary process, it is in a position to co-opt  solutions that were previously evolved. Given that an adaptive perspective views living entities as having uniqueness as their main characteristic (Mayr 1976:â•›408–9), this impacts on their investigation in two ways: 1. The only generalizations they allow are (a) of a procedural kind, and (b) correspond to “adaptive trends affected by natural selection.” (Mayr 1982:â•›37). 2. They “can be fully understood only in light of their history” (Futuyma 1998:â•›5), that is, in respect of their place in the evolutionary process, and, more specifically, in relation to the adaptive pressures that give rise to their emergence and their persistence, the capacities that underlie their tendency to behave in an adaptive way, and the processing systems that mediate these capacities, among other things. If language is to be treated as a biological phenomenon (Givón 2005), the appropriate way to investigate it must involve contextualization, a process whereby it is replaced in its “historical” context. Depending on whether the latter is construed in terms of adaptive pressures, or pre-existing solutions, I distinguish between horizontal and vertical contextualization.

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This method of investigation licenses the move which is at the core of this project, that of extending the analysis of context from one domain to another: given that we are dealing with the same types of adaptive problem in the physical and linguistic domain, the possibility exists, within an adaptive framework, for solutions that have worked in the former to be called upon again in the latter (Damasio 1994:â•›190). How likely it is for such co-options to have taken place depends, among other things, on whether there are systems in place that can mediate them. Concerning the organization, the first section focuses on the role of internal values in context construction, as part of the process whereby non linguistic action selection is carried out. The second extends the proposed analysis to context and linguistic action.

2.

Context from an adaptive perspective

If internal values govern action selection, they can also be expected to influence intermediate stages leading to it. Such stages can be analyzed into units comprising a focal and a non focal element, with the latter functioning as context in relation to the former. This section examines in what way internal values are brought to bear on various types of non focal elements, thereby enabling them to function as “contexts”.

2.1 From external environment to external context The very first candidate for the function of context is the external environment, where any change potentially signals a need for adaptive action. However, for action to be taken – let alone adaptive action of the relevant kind€– the animal must be able to make sense of the continuous stream of parallel signals coming from the external world. Thus, it needs to be able to group together signals that pertain to the same objects or events, in order to identify those that are adaptively relevant. Furthermore, at the next level up, the animal also has to bring together some of those contemporaneous objects and events to create a situation that can be perceived as relevant to survival, or coherent scene. Such a scene has the effect of boosting the animal’s capabilities for action selection, which include generalization and learning (Edelman 1992:â•›121).

. A scene is a “spatio-temporally ordered set of familiar and nonfamiliar events” (EdelmanÂ� 1992:â•›118), “corresponding to perceptual categorizations from each sensory” (Edelman 1992:â•›121).

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What enables an animal to view the environment as context, or as necessary to action selection in the way just described, is: a. An ability for perceptual categorization, that is to see certain signals as pertaining to a rock or a bird (Edelman 2004:â•›49) rather than a collection of random signals. Edelman (1992:â•›89) calls this “the selective discrimination of an object or event from other objects or events for adaptive purposes”. b. An ability to create a coherent scene, or primary consciousness; which corresponds to a perceptual experience (Edelman 1992:â•›118–120). Without perceptual categorization, a hungry fox would not be able to perceive a goose, a bush and a garden gnome as distinct objects. Without primary consciousness, it would not be able to create a coherent scene on the basis of contemporaneous elements (e.g., broad daylight, the sound of human voices, the lack of alternative escape routes, which, together, point to a high risk situation). To recapitulate, an external environment as such does not constitute an adaptive context. In order to function in that capacity, it must undergo conceptual and perceptual categorization, thereby providing the basis for a coherent scene to be experienced. As a first approximation, then, context is not prior to all perception and experience: it is an intentional object on both these levels. The signals it comprises have to be organized into objects, events, which, in turn, have to be collected to form a coherent scene. The question this immediately prompts is: what makes the relevant signals, objects, and events distinctive, so that they can be grouped into such a scene? The answer lies in the salience they have been accorded by internal values (Edelman 1992:â•›118). In terms of mediating systems, this presupposes a nervous system such as postulated by the TNGS, namely, one consisting of two parts interacting via reentrant connections:

. This perceptual experience arises from “the correlation by conceptual memory of a set of ongoing perceptual categorizations” (Edelman 1992:â•›120). . “To call something an Intentional object is just to say that it is what some Intentional state is about.” (Searle 1983:â•›16). . One corresponds to the thalamocortical system that receive signals from sensory receptor sheets and sends signals to voluntary muscles; the other, to the brain stem, together with the limbic (hedonic) system (Edelman 1992:â•›117). . Reentrant connections are created by a process of parallel signalling – or reentry – which links sheets of neuronal groups (or “maps”) corresponding to certain anatomical regions of the brain.



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– One dedicated to the categorization of signals arising mainly from the external world. – The other, “dedicated to adaptive and homeostatic functions” (Edelman 1989:â•›94), which is another way of saying that they correspond to the repository of internal values. The interaction of these two parts provides the basis for conceptual categorization, defined by Edelman (1989:â•›142) as the ability to “generalize and classify relations”. Conceptual categories differ from perceptual categories in being more abstract; but, more importantly, they have a distinctive mode of formation, which involves bringing to bear internal values on past perceptual categories. Internal values are what confers salience on features that have been selected by evolution as adaptive. Objects and events in external environments thus owe their salience to their membership of past perceptual categories, the general properties of which have been selected for their adaptiveness. Granted the above, an external environment will function as an adaptive context, thereby becoming an external context, if the following two conditions are met: a. some of the signals it contains can be organized into coherent objects and events which, by virtue of their general properties, have been recognized as members of conceptual categories (i.e., relational categories arising from the interaction of past categorization and adaptive values); b. the objects and events under consideration, which may not be linked in any obvious way but have been accorded salience by adaptive values, can be brought together to form a coherent scene (or situation calling for action), one that increases efficiency in terms of action selection.

2.2 The external context as context of reference Given that environments which function as external contexts feature objects and events whose salience is indicative of their adaptive relevance, how does action selection get under way? Inasmuch as those salient objects and events determine what type of action is required, the selection process would have to be anchored in the external context. How is this anchoring – which I propose to call “contextualization” – to be construed?

. “After an object has been selected, an additional selection operation must be invoked to determine which of its properties will be allowed to control responses.”( Kahneman and Treisman 1984:â•›45).

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As the initial phase of action selection, contextualization would correspond to a “coupling and decoupling process”, in Allport’s terminology (Allport 1987). The aim of such a process is to generate constraints for the modalities of action. Consider again the situation of a fox in search of food. This time, it stumbles on a gaggle of geese. Assuming that plumpness and shortness of wing span are perceived by foxes as optimal attributes in a bird, our fox’s chances of success will be seriously compromised, unless it can spot those attributes and associate them to the same goose. Failure to do so would result in it not having a clear idea of what it ought to be targeting. Having identified the desired attributes in the same bird, it must, in addition, correctly judge how far it is, lest it should get its timing wrong. If this integration or coupling of relevant information is to provide adequate constraints on the fox’s action, it must be accompanied by decoupling, a process whereby similar information concerning other geese are prevented from generating competing constraints. Should no such decoupling take place, the fox would launch an indiscriminate attack on the entire flock. Coupling and decoupling, as an integral part of the action selection process, is, according to Allport, attention-driven. The rationale for assigning this key role to attention can be traced to a known constraint: “…although the senses are capable of registering different objects together, effector systems are typically limited to carry just one action of a given kind at a time” (Allport 1987:â•›396–7). In summary, the external context, as a situation calling for adaptive action, can now also be looked upon as the source of information about what constitutes action of a relevant kind, that is, which is (a) domain specific; and (b) suited to deal with a given object or event, rather than another, in that same domain. A domain specific action would be suing one’s ex-partner for child-custody, a practice devoid of meaning, let alone relevance, in a purely physical domain. An action that conforms to domain specificity but falls short of meeting the specificity of the object or event being targeted is that of a fox which somehow misjudges the distance that separates it from its intended prey, and makes the wrong logistic choices as a consequence. In such a capacity, the external context becomes a context of reference constraining action selection in two respects: a. in terms of what constitutes appropriate action in a given domain (e.g., hunting vs. going to the market) b. in terms of the modalities of the action required by a specific object or event in that domain (e.g., the types and sequence of movements involved in catching a rabbit rather than a squirrel)



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Linking one type of context to another would be intermediate processes within the overall process leading to action selection. The first involves conceptual and perceptual categorization operating on the external environment to produce the external context. The second is contextualization, which serves to anchor modality selection in the external context. In a physical domain, contextualization analyzes into two complementary processes, a coupling and a decoupling of information to yield a subset of relevant sensory data. In a non (purely) physical domain (e.g., social) with its norms and conventions, the latter would have to be learned before modality selection can take place. If you are planning on killing someone in a duel, you have first to find out about the rules governing duelling before you can decide on the modalities involved.

2.3 From context of reference to learning context Over time, repeated interactions of the above kind give rise to responses of varying degrees of success. This enables the animal to learn from experience. As the place where this occurs, the external context, or rather the series of similar external contexts involved, becomes a learning context.

2.3.1 From learning contexts to complex categories and adaptive skills As a result of such interactions and their outcomes, the animal is able to generalize on its experience and develop: a. complex categories; b. adaptive skills based on them. Complex categories, which are encoded in long-term memory, consist, primarily, of a category of initial situations linked to a category of response options. They provide the basis for adaptive skills in that each of their three main constituents€– the category of initial situations, the category of actions and the linkage between them€– encapsulates the end-results of the processes we have been concerned with. Indeed, initial situations are generalizations based on external environments that have undergone conceptual and perceptual categorization to give rise to configurations of adaptively significant elements. Similarly, the category of actions is based on past actions that have proved successful in addressing certain types of situation. Finally, the same goes for the linkage between them, as it is the product of learning which types of situation are best handled by which types of response. Categories of initial situations and their associated link obviate the need for both categorization of the external environment, and contextualization. Together with categories of responses, they provide templates for action.

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2.3.2 Internal values and categories of response options Leaving aside for the moment the details of how the activation of such skills within the decision-making process postulated by Damasio results in a higher level of efficiency, let us return to the role of internal values in the emergence of complex categories, or rather of response options. We already know that internal values intervene in the concept formation process, which gives rise to complex categories. Such a process involves generalization operating on a succession of initial situations, responses to them and on frequently used pathways that support the connection between them. We also know that internal values govern the formation of those initial situations that have provided the basis for categories of initial situations: indeed, as contexts of reference, they have already been conferred the status of context. What we have yet to examine is how internal values select response-options. Given that response options are based on one’s experience of what has and has not worked, in what way do internal values govern this selection? A possible answer is that here, as in the case of external contexts, their action entails highlighting the relevant elements. The difference between the two cases is that, where previously this involved imparting perceptual salience, in this case, the process is carried out by means of somatic markers, or instances of “feelings generated from secondary emotions” (Damasio 1994:â•›174). What are secondary emotions and feelings and how do they relate to internal values? Damasio (1994:â•›115) defines emotion as “the combination of mental evaluative process […] with dispositional responses to that process, mostly towards the body proper, resulting in an emotional state, but also towards the brain itself.” Thus, on hearing of a close friend’s death, someone’s heart may start pounding. Accompanying this change in her body state, there will also be changes in her brain stem and basal forebrain, leading to a neurotransmitter being released, which impacts on the efficiency of certain cognitive processes, those involved in the events connected with the change in body state (Damasio 1994:â•›138, 163). Emotions fall into two categories: – primary emotions (e.g., happiness, fear, anger), which are innate; – secondary emotions, which are a more nuanced version of primary emotions (e.g., bliss, rather than happiness; trepidation, rather than fear), and arise as a result of our interaction with external objects and events. Feeling an emotion is the experience of the above types of body change “in juxtaposition to the mental images [of the objects or events] that initiated the cycle” (Damasio 1994:â•›145). As mentioned earlier, Damasio assigns a central role to emotions and feelings in decision-making, as the process that brings about action selection. But what is



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the connection between the innate preference system and emotions and feelings? There are two characteristics of this system, which, put side by side, go some way towards clarifying the issue at hand: the function of such a system – we recall€– is to ensure survival (from the level of the cell upwards); now, as it happens, it is also “inherently biased to avoid pain (and seek potential pleasure)” (Damasio 1994:â•›179). Given this, it is hardly surprising that survival, in terms of what the organism experiences, should coincide with the reduction of unpleasant states. With this in mind, let us return to somatic makers and their role in bringing about the category of response options. Each time the animal finds a response that works, it experiences a positive feeling; each time the selected response fails to address the problem under consideration, a negative feeling is generated. Over time, the experienced emotions, or somatic states, become associated with the positive and negative outcomes of actions. Earlier on, complex categories were described in terms of a category of initial situations linked to a category of response options. This description can now be expanded: the response options are associated with outcomes tagged with somatic states. In brief, the way in which internal values influence the formation of categories of response options is by highlighting the associated outcomes by means of somatic states. What brings together those various components of complex categories is learning based on individual experience, as already noted. Learning, according to Edelman (1989:â•›56, 93; 1992:â•›100) is a process whereby perceptual categorization is connected to adaptive behaviours. This connecting gets under way when “the set points of the physiological structures making up portions of the hedonic system are not yet satisfied” (this is known as “conditions of expectancy”). Learning (as the result of this process) is achieved when “behavior leads to synaptic matchings in global mappings10 that satisfy the set points.” (Edelman 1992:â•›101). . Once acquired, these somatic states serve to speed up decision making by facilitating or inhibiting of the action being contemplated. . “The limbic (hedonic) system, the system concerned with appetite, sexual and consumatory behavior, and evolved defensive behavior has patterns, It is a value system; it is extensively connected to many different body organs, the endocrine system; and the autonomous nervous system” (Edelman 1992:â•›117). 10. “A global mapping is a dynamic structure containing multiple reentrant local maps (both motors and sensory) that interact with non-mapped regions such as those of the brain stem, basal ganglia, hippocampus, and parts of the cerebellum.” (Edelman 1989:â•›54). “The process of global mapping […] creates a spatiotemporally continuous representation of objects or events. Hence global mappings constitutes a necessary substrate for relating categorization to memory.” (Edelman 1989:â•›56).

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2.4 The role of internal values in context construction: A summary The various types of context being discussed arise under the influence of internal values. By according salience to adaptively relevant properties of past perceptual categorizations, they make it possible for some external environments to be experienced as external contexts. Next they underpin the mechanism of attention selection that couples and decouples sensory data, thereby allowing certain elements of external contexts to have a direct bearing on the next phase in the process of action selection, the choice of the modalities of action. The process whereby the external context becomes a learning context is also mediated by internal values which promote generalization and are responsible for strengthening the connection between adaptive situations and behaviours, and for tagging the outcomes of actions with somatic states. Categories of initial situations (and encoded contexts, in general), as generalizations of contexts of reference, are brought about by internal values acting on external contexts, contexts of reference and the generalization process (as part of concept formation).

2.5 Acquired skills and action selection As part of its learning curve, the animal has to find out by trial and error what does and what does not work. This situation improves markedly once it has acquired the necessary skills based on complex categories. In what way does the acquisition of such skills improve action selection? As mentioned earlier, the activations of those skills are to be construed in terms of Damasio’s decision-making apparatus. This apparatus is both survival oriented and “body-based”, and this is reflected in the criteria it employs, namely internal values, which operate from the bio-regulatory level up to the personal and social level. In terms of components, it consists of: 1. A repository of “factual knowledge”, both internal (concerning the regulation of the organism as a whole), and acquired (relating to situations in the external world and advantageous responses to them), which is structured in terms of complex categories. 2. A biasing system relying on the operations of somatic markers. 3. A reasoning process. Endowed with this apparatus, an animal can instantly zero in on an appropriate decision, if the situation looks familiar: once this situation has been successfully subsumed under a category of initial situations, the internal linkage provides direct access to a set of appropriate responses, whose outcomes are tagged with



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somatic markers. By highlighting responses as negative and positive, these markers produce a shortlist of options worth considering. This shortlist then serves as input to the reasoning process, which then proceeds to evaluate them. To return to our fox, supposing that, just as it is about to spring into action, it senses that it is being watched. If it has dealt with such a situation before, it will have instant access to a set of proven solutions, each tagged with a somatic marker. Because adaptiveness is also a matter of responding to unexpected events, Damasio’s model takes into account contingencies that arise from the environment. Such contingencies are brought to bear on the degree of advantage assigned to options by experience. Assuming that the preferred escape route – a gap in the fence – has to be ruled out because the fence has been mended, then the animal will have to settle for the next best thing or improvise. The existence of contingencies means that there will be situations11 that the animal fails to recognize as requiring action, or action of a specific kind, and this can have dire consequences. This brings us to a final type of context, internalized context.

2.6 From external to internalized context As noted earlier, a frequent feature of natural environments is variation. Variation can range from situations that bear no discernible relation to the categories an animal possesses, to situations that, though familiar, do not contain sufficient cues to enable some adaptively significant element to be unambiguously identified. Environments peopled with predators are a case in point. Thus, all predators of the same species will not always exhibit a full range of sensory attributes that makes them instantly distinguishable from other species. Furthermore, a given attribute need not be identical across individuals of the same species. In response to this problem, evolution has been known to “translate into neural architecture” full sets of invariant environmental features (e.g., predators’ invariant attributes, such as overall silhouette and movement patterns12) and responses to them. This allows for instant action to be taken on the basis of insufficient contextual cues.13 A known example is that of Vervet monkeys (Deacon

11. In those cases where we are dealing with unfamiliar but related situations, these situations are “recognized” and the category of initial situations is updated. This is possible within the TNGS, which allows for recategorization. 12. Deacon (1997:â•›330). 13. “…better to achieve a rapid but occasionally imperfect result than to find the perfect solution later.” (Koch 2004:â•›22).

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1997:â•›330–1). These monkeys have apparently internalized – via genetic assimilation14 – full sets of invariant attributes for each predator and appropriate responses to it (including a distinctive alarm call). These internalized contexts would arise – under restricted conditions15 – at the stage where the situation under consideration has been identified as requiring action, but the nature of the significant entity cannot be sufficiently established to enable modality selection to take place. With regard to efficiency, a decision-making process involving internalized contexts would have a clear edge over one reliant on complex categories. Where previously a category judgement could only be reached for situations presenting a sufficient set of relevant features to allow identification; now, such a judgement can also be produced for those deficient in that respect: if a potential predator cannot be categorized on the basis of the sensory attributes it presents, internalized contexts – where they exist – can intervene to supply additional cues, thereby imposing16 a category judgement on the situation.

2.7 Recapitulation From an adaptive perspective, survival is paramount, and appropriate action selection cannot occur unless variation – a pervasive feature of natural environments17 – is adequately handled. Against this background, context – under its

14. Genetic assimilation “does not imply the one-to-one replacement of learned adaptations with instinctual counterparts.” The notion refers to an “evolutionary trend”, whereby adaptive responses to continuing environmental factors, after many generations, become increasingly less dependent on external factors and more dependent on genetic predispositions. “A learned behavioral response can be genetically assimilated to become a behavioral predisposition by virtue of the costs it imposes on the organism.” (Deacon 1997:â•›324, 326). 15. “The key requirement for genetic assimilation is the existence of some invariant sensorimotor features or invariant mnemonic features of the adaptation.” Thus, in the Vervet case, predator attributes will only be subject to any degree of genetic assimilation if they consistently distinguish between types of predators and are “consistently associated with distinct neural circuits.” (Deacon 1997:â•›330). 16. It is unclear whether there is a cut off point beyond which the anticipated result cannot be imposed. This anticipatory strategy appears to be widespread. According to Kosslyn and Koenig (1995:â•›238–241), understanding sentences involves anticipating the meaning of the whole sentence on the basis of the first few words. Note that such a strategy is complemented by a “revision-on-the fly” process. 17. Natural environments, as we have seen, can be internal as well as external.

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various manifestations – can be defined as the result of a number of interventions on the part of internal values, whose function is to deal with variation at different stages (see Figure 1). Conceptual & perceptual categorization 1 External environment

Perceptual experience

Contextualization

3 2

Salient elements

5 4

External context

6

Context of reference 7 Modality selection 8 Action selection

Figure 1.╇ Action selection before learning. The numbered arrows represent various stages in the action selection process. The slanted arrows (1, 3, and 5) (corresponding to conceptual and perceptual categorization, primary consciousness, and contextualization) symbolize the action of internal values on context construction. The horizontal arrows (2, 4, and 6) indicate how context construction progresses under the influence of internal values. The downward arrows (7 and 8) point to two successive focal actions made possible by the preceding non-focal elements.

An external context is the result of conceptual and perceptual categorization operating on external environments, which contain myriad sense data. By imparting salience to some of these data, internal values make it possible for them to be assembled into a coherent scene and be experienced as a situation requiring action. A context of reference is an external context which has been involved in contextualization. Though corresponding to an adaptive situation, it still presents too many alternatives in terms of what needs to be acted upon, and in what way. The action of internal values, in this case, takes the form of an attention selection mechanism (a coupling and decoupling process) which, acting as a filter, produces constraints on the modalities of action. Those constraints are both domain and entity specific. A learning context is a context of reference viewed as part of a succession of similar contexts whose occurrence over time as the non focal elements to successive instances of action selection allows skills to develop. Each context of reference provides a testing ground for selected responses, yielding, over time, a set of adaptive responses. Skill learning (as a product) takes place when a category of

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such responses becomes linked to a category of initial situations (or contexts of reference). “Learning context” and “context of reference” are two functional aspects of the same entity: where a context of reference serves as non focal element to a specific instance of action selection; a learning context serves as non focal element to successive action selection processes, some adaptive, some not. Internal values also intervene in this case, by operating, over time, on the selection of adaptive actions and their linkage to initial situations. An encoded context corresponds to experience-based knowledge of what constitutes an adaptive situation. Such knowledge, which, in due course, becomes encapsulated in categories of initial situations (and hence in complex categories), allows for speedier action selection. Encoded contexts are thus contexts of reference that have become encoded in long-term memory via a concept formation system, a process that requires internal values to operate on external contexts, contexts of reference and the generalization process involved in concept formation (see Figure 2).

Category of initial situations 1 External environment

2

3

Category of responses

Internal linkage 4 Action selection

Figure 2.╇ Action selection following learning. Following learning, the successive context construction processes are replaced, by a categorization process, that of the external environment, which is subsumed under an encoded context, a category of initial situations. As a result, action selection can bypass modality selection.

An internalized context is a fully formed category judgement of the external environment which arises from the genome. It pertains to an anticipatory strategy which takes over when contextual cues are too few in number to allow categorization to get under way. The influence of internal values, in this case, is indirect.18 Indeed, though paving the way for genetic assimilation, they do not intervene beyond the stage where frequently used circuits are encoded in individual brains and become subject to genetic assimilation. Whether this latter eventually occurs is contingent on other factors (Deacon 1997:â•›331). 18. There is a trivial sense in which the influence of internal values on the internalization of context is indirect: this process is part of a larger one, which is concerned with the internalization of responses.

Context: An adaptive perspective 219



External environment

External context

Context of reference

Action selection

Learning Complex category

Initial situations

Responses

Genetic assimilation Anticipatory strategy

Internalized context

Automatic responses

Figure 3.╇ Influence of learning and genetic assimilation on context construction.  This shows how action selection is achieved depending on whether context has been constructed from scratch (top area), on the basis of complex categories, after learning has taken place (intermediate area), and on the basis of internalized contexts, after genetic assimilation has occurred. The angled arrows between the intermediate and bottom areas are meant to flag up the indirectness of the connection between learned behaviours and their genetic counterparts.

2.8 Some implications By way of closing this section, I would like to show how an adaptive conception of context handles two recurring issues: – Is context given or constructed? – How do the various notions of context relate to one another?

2.8.1 Context as construct Inasmuch as “context” forms an integral part of action selection, it would have to be constructed. The external environment, as a given, is of no use to action selection, unless, under the influence of internal values, it can be perceived (or categorized) as a situation calling for action, and as a source of constraints on the modalities of actions. As a construct, context begins by being largely based on the external environment. However, this situation is gradually reversed as experience increases on the individual level, and then is passed on to later generations. Once learning has taken place, past experience of prior environments is brought to bear, and context

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construction becomes more a matter of categorizing the current environment. Following genetic assimilation, where the environment presents an insufficient set of contextual cues, a readily available category judgement can be called upon to trigger an automatic response.

2.8.2 How do the different contexts relate to one another? This question can be broken down into two sub-questions: – What is the physical connection between them? – How do they relate to one another functionally? In considering the first sub-question, we need to distinguish three sets of contexts: those that are internal to individual action selection processes, those that arise as a result of learning, and those that arise following genetic assimilation. In the first case, the connection between one context and the next is ensured by intermediate processes, which correspond to necessary operations leading to action selection: conceptual and perceptual categorization, the creation of a coherent scene, and contextualization, with the first two giving rise to external contexts, and the last one, to contexts of reference. In the second case, what ensures the memory encoding of the previous set of contexts is conceptual categorization operating on contexts of reference over time, to yield categories of initial situations. Turning finally to internalized contexts, not much is known beyond the fact that they have their bases in frequently used neural circuits that have been encoded in individual brains, thereby becoming subject to genetic assimilation. Moving on to functional connection some contexts – as previously noted – have complementary functions (e.g., external contexts and contexts of reference); while others have equivalent functions. Thus, the emergence of encoded contexts (in particular of categories of initial situations) obviates the need for contexts of reference; similarly, the emergence of internalized contexts makes corresponding encoded contexts redundant.

3.

Context and linguistic action

The previous section established that context could be defined in terms of intermediate processes, the function of which is to deal with different kinds of variation as they arise in the course of non linguistic action selection. This section will attempt to do the same, in respect of the relationship between context and linguistic action. “Linguistic action”, as construed here, will be referring to two different things, depending on whether it is envisaged from the speaker or the interlocutor’s



Context: An adaptive perspective 221

Â�perspective. From the point of view of a speaker with a specific end-goal (e.g., the construction of a dam), who seeks to enlist her interlocutor‘s help with it (e.g., in the form of technical expertise), “linguistic action” denotes an act of argumentation. Such an act constitutes a linguistic means to achieve an intermediate goal, that of securing the interlocutor’s commitment in respect of the end-goal. From the interlocutor’s perspective, “linguistic action” refers to the commitment in question, which is verbal. With regard to the organization, I begin by setting out in what way having an act of argumentation, as an intermediate stage in the action selection process alters the overall picture. Then I proceed to map out how this impacts on the processes involved in context construction.

3.1

Action selection: What a higher level of complexity entails

For ease of reference, the overall selection process will be referred to as “simple” or “complex”, depending on whether one or two individuals are involved. Within the complex process I will use “host process” and “argumentative process” to distinguish host and embedded process. Moving from a simple to a complex process results in a number of changes: – Where the host process is concerned, the external environment is no longer simply a natural physical environment. It also includes the man-made environment, both physical and non physical (e.g., social, socio-cultural, linguistic). – Having such a starting point means that a certain amount of learning can be taken for granted at the onset of the argumentative process, including: a. The ability to use language19 as a modality of action in a wide range  of domains, each defined by specific norms and conventions. b. Skills based on a stock of complex categories arising from non natural, as well as natural situations (e.g., ceremonial events, where participants would have to learn the moves required at each stage). – With regard to the mode of acquisition, socio-cultural (and other domain specific) skills would be acquired very much in the same way as those required to deal with the physical environment (Damasio 1994:â•›182), namely through the mediation of somatic markers, and therefore under the influence of internal values. However, domain specific skills and underlying norms and conventions can be expected to be largely taught, as opposed to being primarily experience-based, and somatic markers can be triggered by figures of authority who deal out punishment or reward, as part of the learning context. 19. The ability to use language according to the rules of grammar is presupposed.

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– In terms of decision making, the simple process is self-initiated, with the responsibility of action selection resting with one individual only (or rather her underlying system). By contrast, with the complex process – or rather the argumentative process embedded in it – we are dealing with a speaker attempting to shape the interlocutor’s decision making process, that is, both her interpretive and her evaluative process. – Having a second decision making process, which, moreover, is induced, means that we have a second starting context to reckon with, namely the interlocutor’s mind (Givón 2005). Minds being natural environments, albeit internal ones, they would, as a matter of course, be subject to variation. This variation is what the speaker is seeking to maintain within a functional range via her act of argumentation, or rather the sub personal process underlying it. If there is too much variation, the intermediate goal of securing the interlocutor’s commitment cannot be achieved. (There is obvious parallel with the biological level, where life cannot go on unless the variation of a set of chemical parameters is kept within certain limits (Damasio 1999:â•›137–8). At that level, the job of keeping variation within a functional range is that of the innate preference system, whose function is to achieve homeostasis, or a state whereby biological states are functionally balanced.) Granted that the argumentative act is construable in terms of induced decision making, and induced decision making involves acting on certain types of variation in other minds, another change associated with a higher level of complexity is the emergence of another kind of context construction, about which we shall have more to say in due course. In moving from an external to an internal environment, we are faced with different kinds of variation. In an ideal argumentative situation both interlocutors would share the same relevant set of complex categories, and agree on what constitutes an appropriate response to a given situation. Putting forward an argument for a certain conclusion thus amounts to claiming that a given situation is a member of a category of initial situations, and, therefore, calls for a specific type of action (Nyan 2007). In performing an act of argumentation, the speaker would be triggering the corresponding complex category in the interlocutor’s working memory, and this complex category would provide direct access to a set of appropriate responses. As we are dealing with a shared category, the interlocutor’s Â�acceptance of the intended conclusion would not be an issue. Insofar as argumentative acts presuppose communicative acts, an ideal argumentative situation is also one in which the speaker can take for granted that the interlocutor can achieve the required degree of understanding of what is being communicated.



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In a less than ideal argumentative situation – which is our present concern€– the interlocutor’s mind would show variability in both these areas, or will be Â�assumed to, by the speaker. In respect of complex categories, the interlocutor (as construed by the speaker) would not be expected to possess the relevant complex categories that will enable her to decide whether the situation under consideration calls for the proposed action. Alternatively, such categories would be present in her memory, but she would also possess other categories, which she is more likely to use for evaluation purposes. With regard to comprehension, the ability to handle the processing load at the multipropositional level efficiently is apparently not equally distributed across individuals (Ericsson and Kintsch 1995). In short, the two aspects to be targeted by the argumentative process (or, rather, its analogue at the sub personal level) are (a) complex categories as the means to evaluate what is being proposed and (b) the level of processing skills brought to bear on the comprehension process.

3.2 Processes involved in context construction: A higher level of complexity In what follows I examine how the processes involved in context construction are affected as a result of linguistic action being part of the picture. As will be recalled, in the first stage of the simple process the animal seeks to decide whether there is an initial situation, to begin with, then proceeds with its identification, if there is one. This involves (a) conceptual and perceptual categorization of the external environment, as a result of which some of the perceptual signals are perceived as salient; (b) experiencing those salient elements as forming an adaptive situation. What we called “external context” is the outcome of this first stage. Moving on to the complex process, either there is a relevant external environment and the interlocutor, being a different individual, cannot necessarily be expected to categorize and experience it in the same way as the speaker; or there is no such environment, in which case, the problem does not even arise. Either way, if the interlocutor is expected to respond to a given situation – whether real or imaginary – he must be able to identify it. Having clarified this point, we can get down to the business of comparing simple and complex cases. In the simple case, the situation in question was identifiable by virtue of the salience of the adaptive entities it comprises; in the complex case, its identification is made possible by linguistic representation. In choosing to highlight certain aspects of the external environment via linguistic means, the adaptively minded speaker does very much what internal values do in the

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Â�previous case: she picks out those elements which can be assembled into an adaptive situation. Furthermore, she does the job of primary consciousness in delivering those adaptive elements as a fully assembled situation: there is no need for the interlocutor to experience those elements as a coherent scene, the linguistic representation is of a complete state of affairs. To illustrate how the same external environment can be amenable to different types of representation (i.e., to different ways of categorizing it), each highlighting a different set of features, consider the following situation. We are in a sun drenched region in need of economic development. If the local government is interested in a short-term solution, and wants to promote it as tourist destination, the brochures it sends out to potential investors may emphasize the region’s unspoiled natural beauty. If, on the other hand, it has a long-term goal of developing the economy in a more sustainable fashion, the abundance of inexpensive labour is what it may choose to highlight, instead. In other words, in stage one of the complex process, linguistic representation obviates the need for the interlocutor to process the external environment in order to construct the external context. As a result of her taking in the linguistic stimuli, this context is automatically represented in her working memory. In the second stage of the simple process (which gives rise to the context of reference), the animal extracts from the external context information that will serve to constrain the modalities of action. This – to jog our memory – corresponds to contextualization, and involves a coupling and decoupling process driven by an attention selection mechanism. Turning next to the complex process, what have we got? Basically, the linguistic representation of the situation to be used as initial situation – conjointly with that of the response to be selected (in the best case scenario) – would trigger the representation of the relevant complex category in the interlocutor’s working memory. By virtue of its function, which is to facilitate action selection, such a category obviates the need for the type of constraints that results from contextualization. As noted earlier, complex categories make contextualization redundant, as their internal linkage arises from generalization operating on past instances of action selection, and the latter cannot occur unless contextualization has produced the relevant constraints. There remain two questions: – What if the interlocutor does not already possess such a complex category in long-term memory? – How does one go from the linguistic representation of a state of affairs to the evocation of the corresponding complex category in the interlocutor’s working memory? If the interlocutor does not already possess the required complex category, it can be constructed in an ad-hoc fashion. According to Kahneman and Miller



Context: An adaptive perspective 225

(1986), experimental evidence shows that it is by no means uncommon20 for people to come up with ad-hoc norms, if they do not already have one on hand, on which to base their judgement. Thus, if asked what they think of someone’s time in a marathon, people with no prior relevant experience would have no difficulty in producing an assessment. The norm on which such an assessment is based would be a function of the information they have been exposed to repeatedly, recently, or being exposed to. Turning to the second point, the idea that the linguistic representation of a state of affairs can cause the corresponding complex category to be represented in the interlocutor’s working memory depends on a number of assumptions21, the most important of which concerns alternative functions linguistic entities may have. Thus, those with a representational function, would also have a categorical function. Consider the following utterance: “The pharmacy around the corner is offering flu-jabs for H1N1.” In its representational function, this utterance depicts a state of affairs in the world. In its categorical function, it conveys a category judgement of the situation in question. In other words, it corresponds to the claim that the situation as described (i.e., under certain aspects rather than others22) is a member of a certain category of initial situations, one for which there exists a set of appropriate responses (e.g., to avail oneself of the opportunity of acquiring immunity to a disease). Assuming that the interlocutor interprets the utterance under consideration as an argument (i.e., as, a claim that the situation being described falls into the category of situations calling for a certain type of action), this claim would presuppose the complex category being referred to. It is in that sense that linguistic representation can trigger a complex category in the interlocutor’s mind, thereby constructing an evaluation context.23 This category is either accessed from longterm memory, or constructed there and then (see Figure 4).

20. There is a possible connection with Garfinkel’s ad-hoc procedures (Garfinkel 1984:â•›18–24). 21. For further details, see Nyan (2007). 22. Other attributes of the pharmacy or the neighbourhood could have been selected. 23. From the standpoint of (non linguistic) action selection, complex categories are templates for action selection, in the sense that if the current situation falls into the category of initial situations, a set of appropriate responses immediately becomes accessible. As templates for action selection that arise from one’s experience of solutions that have worked, complex categories are used by an agent to justify selecting a certain action in a given situation, by a speaker to argue that such an action should be undertaken, given the situation under consideration, and, by the interlocutor to evaluate whether the action she is being urged to take is justifiable on the basis of the situation being presented.

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I’s LTM

1b

LR of external context

1a

1

External context

2a

2

CC/ evaluation context

1’b 1’b

LR of response

1’a response 2’a

2’a

I’s WM

Figure 4.╇ From linguistic representation to evaluation context. Such a context can be constructed via two routes, depending on whether S and I share the relevant complex category (CC). Route 1: the linguistic representation (LR) of the external context and the LR of the response (if there is one) trigger a representation of the external context and of the response in I’s working memory (I’sWM), which, in turn causes the corresponding CC to be accessed from I’s long-term memory (I’s LTM) to serve as an evaluation context in I’s WM (arrows 1a, 1’a, 1b, 1’b, 1 and 2). Route 2: The two LRs trigger an ad-hoc construction in I’s WM of the required CC (arrows 2a and 2’a).

Two final points: a. In terms of context construction, we have seen some marked differences with the previous section. Previously, when the focus was non-linguistic action and only one individual was involved, context construction was directly influenced by internal values intervening in various selectional processes and largely bypassing the conscious control of the individual (especially once automation has stepped in). In the current case, this influence is less direct as the linguistic representation that triggers context construction results from a deliberate choice24 on the part of the speaker. Furthermore, once this construction is Â�under way, and the interlocutor’s system takes over, internal values, though more present 24. This is not to say that the speaker has any control over the underlying processes.



Context: An adaptive perspective 227

(since they now arise from the interlocutor’s own innate preference system), do not intervene directly either: there is no first-hand experience of (external) entities as salient, nor is there any attention selection mechanism€– at least of the same kind – at work. The first stage in context construction corresponds to the interlocutor’s interpretation of the linguistic stimulus, which results in a representation of the intended external context in her working memory; the second stage corresponds to another automatic consequence of her responding to the linguistic stimuli, namely the evocation€– again in her working memory€– of the relevant complex categories. b. In this case, as in the previous one, context construction is the way in which variation is handled, as part of the process whereby appropriate action is selected. Here, however, variation is a feature of an internal natural environment – the interlocutor’s mind – and concerns complex categories and comprehension skills.

3.3 Context construction and the comprehension skills issue Assuming that a possible way of handling differing levels of skills across interlocutors lies in some form of levelling, the solution – I propose – is to be found in linguistic coding, whose end-products, coded contexts, would be the linguistic equivalents of internalized contexts.

3.3.1 Defining variation as differing levels of processing skills As a preliminary to going through the various steps required to elaborate on this, let me explain what those processing skills are about. Comprehension, at the multipropositional level, especially the text level, is construable in terms of Ericsson and Kintsch (1995)’s Construction-Integration (CI) model, which involves integrating the current discourse fragment into a representation of the prior co-text. For this process to take place, the relevant portion of the prior co-text must be retrieved from long-term memory and brought back into working memory. This retrieval is mediated by structures that result from the skilled storage of information in long-term memory, in particular “elaborated memory structures” (or EMSs)25 (see Figure 5). Such structures are brought back into working memory to serve as integrating structures (see Figure 6). 25. EMSs, or “knowledge-based associations”, relate “units of encoded information to each other along with patterns and schemas establishing an integrated memory representation of the presented information in long-term memory.” “Retrieval structures” are another type of structure of this kind. They correspond to linkages previously established between “retrieval cues” (e.g., definite articles) contained in the sentences being processed, the text representation and the reader’s knowledge. (Ericsson and Kintsch 1995:â•›219).

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Encoded information

I

J

K

Encoded associations

Encoded schemas

Figure 5.╇ Elaborated memory structure (adapted from Ericsson and Kintsch 1995:╛219). Such a structure consists of encoded information, encoded schemas derived from it, and the encoded associations between them. Long term memory

Text representation

Long-term working memory

1

EMS

2

Current text fragment

Figure 6.╇ The integrating process. Arrow 1 depicts the retrieval process, whereby the relevant portion of the text representation and the elaborated memory structure (EMS) in long-term memory are brought back into long-term working memory. Arrow 2 depicts the integration process, which serves to integrate the current text fragment into the EMS, which now serves as an integrating structure.

Given this model of comprehension, the second type of variation corresponds to differing levels of storage skills, and hence integrating skills, across interlocutors. Such a variation is characteristic of what may be called the interlocutor’s processing context, as a subpart of her mental context.

3.3.2 Coded context as a response to variation on skills level As announced earlier, a linguistic solution to this variation problem appears to lie in coded contexts as exemplified in discourse markers (DMs) such as toujours in: “Que penses-tu d’un weekend à la mer? Cela nous fera toujours changer d’air.” (What about going to the seaside, this weekend? At least that will blow away the cobwebs) According to Cadiot et al. (1985), this DM imposes on its host utterances a schematized situation consisting of a sequence of viewpoints, given below in a partially instantiated form:

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V1: V2: V3: V4: V5. V6: V7:

they should go for X (head off for the seaside) X is associated with an incentive A (fresh air) A is low on the incentive scale A’s situation on that scale is hardly conducive to X V3 is a valid point In spite of V5, A is better than nothing V6 provides enough grounds to go for X.

V1, V2, V6 and V7 represent relevant aspects of the speaker’s stance; and V3, and V4, those of the interlocutor’s presumed stance. Three types of argument can be advanced in support of the proposal that coded contexts (or “schematized situations”) such as the above arise in response to (perceived) variations in the processing context. The first is based on the assumption that in addressing a given type of problem, evolution tends not to devise new solutions, but to fall back on pre-existingÂ� ones (Damasio 1994:â•›190). In what sense are we dealing with a similar type of problem? Faced with a sequence such as the above, but without a discourse marker, different interlocutors are likely to construct a different EMS based on the presentation they have of the prior co-text. This would result in a different interpretation of how the sequence fits into what precedes. In other words, the parallel with the Vervet predator case is that there are insufficient contextual cues to allow the encoded meaning to be recovered. Furthermore, schematized situations are similar to internalized contexts in the sense that they are relational structures of an idealized prior context, and are projected on the actual context. The second type of argument builds on the idea that “Complexity cannot evolve, except by natural selection.” (Futuyma 1998:â•›356). Complexity in this case has to do with the fact that the proposed parallel holds for a whole host of aspects. Thus, in addition to being contexts that have made their way into texts, schematized situations are relational structures, invariant, serve a similar function in a similar type of situation, and impose a general type of category judgement on the linguistic environment.26 The third type of argument builds on the availability of mediating systems and processes that would enable one to map out the way in which the integrating process gives rise to coded situations of the above kind27. Figure 7 gives a rough idea of what such a mapping involves: 26. For further details see Nyan (work in progress). 27. Some felicity conditions that are arguably part of the meaning of certain illocutionary acts (e.g., the sincerity condition and the self-referential causality condition, in the case of orders) would exemplify another kind.

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Recategorization of contents

Sequence 1 ……….... Sequence n

Encoded information

Specifications on contents

Concept formation Encoded associations

Encoded schema

TNGS

Elaborated memory structure

Constraints on instantiation

Schematized situation (relations) Linguistic coding

Figure 7.╇ From EMS to SS. The EMS (shown in the middle column) results from categorizations arising from exposure over time to many similar sequences (sequence 1…n). The leftmost column (marked “TNGS”) specifies two processes: (a) one whereby the category arising from an initial sequence undergoes recategorization as further sequences of the same kind are taken on board; (b) the concept formation process€– whereby the encoded information resulting from this recategorization gives rise to an encoded schema, which is relational. The horizontal arrows map relevant parts of the (generalized) EMS onto corresponding aspects of the coded contents: the bottom arrow links the encoded schema to the schematized situation (SS); the two arrows above it, the encoded associations and encoded information to the constraints on instantiation associated with the SS. Assuming that these constraints consist of pointers associating slots (in the SS) to be instantiated with appropriate values or types of contents, the encoded associations correspond to those pointers and the encoded information (already in a generalized form) to the type of contents that are required.

Context: An adaptive perspective 231



The TNGS presents a number of features that could mediate the process under consideration: – A system of parallel signalling (“reentry”) along connections between the relevant memory structures. – A categorization system that operates on past perceptual categories, the brain’s own activities, and relations (“conceptual categorization”), as well as current perceptual stimuli (“perceptual categorization”) (Edelman 1989:â•›142; 1992:â•›109). – A capacity for recategorization28 that extends to linguistic concepts (Edelman 1989:â•›174). This capacity, I propose elsewhere (Nyan work in progress), underpins the process whereby encoded schemas make their way into the conceptual structure of relevant linguistic entities.

3.3 Closing remark This second section, which explores context construction as triggered by linguistic representation and occurring at the sub personal level, hopefully will pave the way for further discussions of context construction at the personal level.

4.

Conclusion

From an adaptive perspective, context construction is part of the process whereby action is selected, and its function is to deal with various kinds of variation that arise at various stages in this process. Where only non linguistic action is involved, context construction gives rise to: a. External contexts, which correspond to the perception of an adaptive situation in the continuous stream of signals in the external environment. Their construction is mediated by conceptual and perceptual categorization and involves the perceptual experience associated with primary consciousness. b. Contexts of reference, which stem from the need to determine the nature and the modalities of the action to be taken. They result from an attention selection mechanism. 28. In the TNGS categories are not static. They can be updated on the basis of new perceptual inputs (Edelman 1989:â•›56).

232 Thanh Nyan

c. Learning contexts, which is what the above contexts (including the action selection they allow) become over time, when the animal has developed adaptive skills based on complex categories. The highly automated version of action selection to result from them not only makes context construction of the first two kinds redundant, but handles the targeted forms of variation more efficiently. d. Encoded contexts, which correspond to categories of initial situations, and result from a generalization process that operates on learning contexts. By virtue of their linkage to pre-selected responses, they simplify context construction and streamline action selection. e. Internalized contexts. These are prompted by an acute form of variation, which prevents contextualization from taking place: the lack of insufficient sensory cues for potentially critical environmental factors. They result from a process that begins with the encoding in individual brains of neural circuits corresponding to full sets of invariant contextual features, to be followed by genetic assimilation. Moving on to the more complex case involving linguistic action, the focus shifts to the interlocutor’s mind as the natural environment in which context construction takes place. In this case, the relevant kinds of variation concern complex categories and processing skills, and context construction, to a great extent, comes under the control of the speaker, who uses linguistic representation as a means to trigger it. By providing a linguistic representation of the external context, the speaker obviates the need for the interlocutor to construct it from scratch, that is, identify salient elements and collect them into a coherent scene. The same linguistic representation (in conjunction with that of the expected response) causes the relevant complex category to be represented in the interlocutor’s working memory, thereby constructing an evaluation context, which makes it easier for the interlocutor to commit to the intended course of action. Where the speaker uses a discourse marker, the issue of varying levels of integrative skills is addressed by means of a coded context (here, a schematized situation), whose job is to constrain the interpretive process, by constructing a processing context in the interlocutor’s mind.

Acknowledgements I am extremely grateful to my anonymous reviewers for their comments.



Context: An adaptive perspective 233

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Subject index

A act╇ 2, 5–7, 11–12, 14, 33, 36, 38, 44–45, 47–48, 81, 83, 97, 109, 114, 118–119, 122, 139, 149, 171–175, 178–179, 181–203, 221–222 illocutionary act╇ 6–7,  181–202 locutionary act╇ 197 perlocutionary act╇ 195 pragmatic act╇ 178 action╇ 1–7, 24, 44, 46–47, 59,  62–64, 71, 77–79, 82, 84, 94– 96, 99, 102, 104–105, 109–110, 115–118, 120, 122, 127, 139, 141, 169, 177, 183, 191–196, 198–199, 201, 205–227, 231–233 communicative action╇ 1–2, 4–6, 115–116, 120, 139, 169 linguistic action╇ 7, 206–207, 220–221, 223, 226, 231–232 social action╇ 3, 46–47, 63, 71, 117–118 activity type╇ 1, 3, 12, 122 adaptive╇ 7, 205–211, 213–214, 216–219, 223–224, 231–233 adaptive problem╇ 207 adaptive skill╇ 211, 232 adjacency pair╇ 3, 47 addressee╇ 7, 13–14, 23, 30, 72, 95, 102, 109, 121, 128–130, 136–137, 139, 179, 181, 185–193, 195, 197–202 addresser╇ 7, 13–14, 23, 72–73, 181, 185–195, 197–202 adverbial╇ 6, 47, 120, 147, 150–151, 155, 157–161, 165–166 contrastive adverbial╇ 150 alignment╇ 57–58, 83, 130, 136, 141

appropriate╇ 4, 6, 13, 40, 77, 123, 171, 178, 188, 191, 206, 210, 214, 216, 222, 225, 227, 230 appropriateness╇ 7, 26, 37, 63, 88, 112, 144, 167, 233 argument╇ 35, 53, 73, 162, 164– 166, 188, 194, 196, 198, 222, 225, 229 argumentation╇ 122, 134, 143, 164–165, 221–222 aspect╇ 1, 5, 11–14, 17–20, 22–23, 25, 28–29, 35–38, 50–51, 75, 128, 133, 142, 149, 151, 155, 157–158, 160–163, 173, 183, 188, 193 imperfective╇ 19–20, 22, 25–26, 32–33, 38–39 perfective aspect╇ 35, 142 progressive aspect╇ 133 attention selection╇ 205, 214, 217, 224, 227, 231 C categorization╇ 21, 205–206, 208–209, 211, 213, 217–218, 220, 223, 231 recategorization╇ 215, 230–231 Centering Theory╇ 149 coherence╇ 15, 117, 119, 167–168 common ground╇ 3, 6, 68, 118, 149, 155, 159, 167, 206 compositionality╇ 4, 116 methodological compositionality╇ 4, 116 condition╇ 117, 153, 186, 189, 196, 198–199, 229 felicity condition╇ 196, 198–199 societal condition╇ 173, 178 conditional╇ 3, 14, 22–24, 27, 32, 35, 37, 141, 152–153

confrontation╇ 76–77, 86, 89 congruent╇ 138, 143 connective╇ 6, 147, 150, 152, 157, 159 contrast╇ 3, 6, 29, 67, 86, 99, 101–102, 133, 135, 147, 150–152, 157–160, 164, 168, 205, 222 Construction-Integration model 227 context╇ 1–9, 11–13, 15–19, 21, 26, 34–37, 41–51, 53, 55–59, 61–65, 67–72, 74–75, 78–79, 88–89, 91, 93–96, 98–101, 103–104, 106, 109–112, 115–122, 124–145, 147–155, 157–164, 166–167, 169, 171–173, 178–179, 181–182, 185–186, 188–193, 195, 197, 199–203, 205–212, 214–229, 231–233 coded context╇ 228, 232 co-text╇ 16, 44, 69, 119, 124, 172, 227, 229 cognitive context╇ 4, 6, 8, 16, 69, 116, 118, 120–121, 124–125, 129, 143, 147–150, 155, 159–164, 166 context construction ╇ 205–7, 214, 217–9, 221–3, 226, 231–2 context-dependence ╇ 1, 4 context importaion╇ 6, 115–7, 116, 121–2, 141 context invocation╇ 121–2, 141 default-context╇ 124 discourse context╇ 6, 147–149, 154–155, 157–158, 160–162, 164 encoded context╇ 218 evaluation context╇ 225–226, 232

236 Context and Contexts: Parts Meet Whole?

external context╇ 207, 209–211, 214, 217, 223–224, 226–227, 232 extrasituational context╇  44, 46–48, 57–58, 62 institutional context╇ 12, 18, 43, 62, 67, 95 interactional context╇ 44–48, 56–57, 59, 62 internalized context╇ 215, 218 learning context╇ 211, 214, 217–218, 221 linguistic context╇ 4–6, 16, 44, 46–48, 51, 55–56, 59, 69, 115–116, 118–120, 124–125, 128–129, 134, 143, 147–148, 152, 166–167 macro context╇ 5 mental context╇ 228 meso-context╇ 3, 18, 36 micro context╇ 96, 100 multilayered context╇ 41 particularized context╇  119, 124 processing context╇  228–229, 232 situational context╇ 17, 44–47, 49, 55–56, 58, 62, 68, 94–95, 98, 148–149 social context╇ 4, 16, 46–48, 69, 116, 118–119, 124–125, 148–149, 158 socio-cultural context╇ 4, 11, 16, 35, 46–48, 69, 117–119, 124, 128, 143, 148–149, 155 contextualization╇ 1–2, 5, 8, 17, 32, 36–37, 41, 48, 51–52, 55, 62, 69, 95, 109, 117, 121–123, 128, 144–145, 206, 209–211, 217, 220, 224, 232 contextualization cue╇ 17, 32, 121–2, 128 decontextualization╇ 2, 12, 17, 50 entextualization╇ 2, 5, 8, 17, 41, 46, 48, 50–52, 55, 62, 64, 95, 131, 134–135, 140–141, 144 horizontal contextualization 206

vertical contextualization 206 contrast╇ 3, 6, 29, 67, 86, 99, 101–102, 133, 135, 147, 150–152, 157–160, 164, 168, 205, 222 convention╇ 19, 190–191, 193, 197, 203 conventionality╇ 182, 187–188, 194, 196–200, 202 conversation analysis╇ 1, 3, 64, 117, 179 conversational inference╇ 1, 122 local inference╇ 2 global inference╇ 1, 122 conversational implicature╇  2, 122, 138, 140, 142–143 generalized implicature╇ 121 particularized conversational implicatures╇ 121–122 co-occurrence╇ 129–130, 132–135, 137–141 Cooperative Principle╇ 153, 163 critical discourse analysis╇  5, 41–43, 52, 62–63 D decision making╇ 7, 205–206, 213, 222 default╇ 18, 35, 124, 172 deixis╇ 5–6, 15, 91, 100, 108–109, 112–113, 115–117, 119, 121, 125–129, 132–133, 137–138, 144 discourse deixis╇ 119, 121, 128 indexical deixis╇ 6, 115–116, 128 person deixis╇ 119, 121, 125, 127, 129, 133, 138 place deixis╇ 117, 119, 121, 125, 127–128, 132 relational deixis╇ 6, 115–116, 128 social deixis╇ 119, 121 time deixis╇ 119, 121, 125–127, 132, 137 deictic expression╇ 126, 130–131 demonstrative╇ 94, 96–99, 101–102, 104, 106–109 demonstrative pronoun╇  99, 109 denial╇ 151–152, 159, 167–168

discourse╇ 1–2, 4–6, 12, 14, 16–18, 33–34, 36–38, 41–44, 46–57, 59, 61–65, 67, 69–71, 73–75, 77–78, 83, 87, 89, 96–97, 106, 110–111, 114–125, 127–133, 136–139, 141–145, 147–152, 154–155, 157–168, 206, 227– 229, 232–233 discourse community╇  1, 12, 17–18, 33–34 hybrid discourse╇ 5, 41, 52, 59, 62 media discourse╇ 43, 53–54, 116, 122, 124 discourse mode╇ 164 political discourse╇ 6, 63, 115–117, 121–122, 127–128, 141, 143–144 discourse structure╇ 6, 14, 17, 34, 147–148, 150, 159–160, 164, 166 discourse tradition╇ 111 dyad╇ 5, 93–94, 96, 99–100, 105, 110, 113, 144 E effect╇ 25, 41, 47, 76, 148, 160, 183–186, 188–197, 199, 207 illocutionary effect╇ 184, 193–194, 199 perlocutionary effect╇ 47 emotional╇ 212 enrichment╇ 2–3 pragmatic enrichment╇ 2–3 environment╇ 15, 45, 67, 70, 95, 148, 205, 207–209, 211, 215, 218–224, 227, 229, 231–232 external environment╇ 205, 207–209, 211, 218–219, 221, 223–224, 231 linguistic environment╇  70, 229 evolution╇ 205–206, 209, 215, 229, 233 ethnomethodology╇ 3, 7–8, 64, 88, 117–118, 144, 233 experience╇ 37, 44, 70–71, 106, 149, 208, 211–213, 215, 218– 219, 221, 223–225, 227, 231

Subject index 237



F field╇ 17, 69–71, 74, 120, 166 footing╇ 5, 37, 83 figure╇ 2–3, 15, 21, 28–29, 31, 43–44, 48–49, 68, 70–71, 86–87, 97, 100, 117, 120, 129, 197, 217–219, 225–230 force╇ 38, 41, 45, 47, 85, 148, 154, 173, 181–185, 189, 191, 194–196, 200, 202–203 frame╇ 2–5, 7, 11, 18, 34–35, 37, 68, 88, 111, 117, 120–121, 124, 129, 132, 137–140, 144 cognitive frame╇ 11, 18, 35 G genre╇ 1, 5–6, 11–13, 15–18, 24, 32–36, 38, 42, 67–68, 77, 80–81, 89, 111, 115–117, 122– 123, 125–126, 130, 136, 164–165, 181, 185, 187, 189, 200–202 grammaticality╇ 7, 112, 144, 167 I implicature╇ 2, 45, 47, 122, 138–140, 142–143, 153–154, 156, 167–168 generalized implicature╇ 121 particularized conversational implicature╇ 121–122 Q-based (implicature)╇ 153–154, 167 R-based (implicature)╇  148, 153–154, 167 incongruent╇ 138, 143 indexical╇ 1, 4, 6, 88, 115–116, 118, 122, 125–126, 128–132, 137, 140, 143–144 inference╇ 1–2, 8, 122, 126–127, 144, 167 inferrable╇ 149 information╇ 4, 6, 36, 51, 53–54, 67–68, 78, 80–82, 84, 118, 122, 149, 151–155, 160–161, 166, 168, 210–211, 224–225, 227–228, 230 discourse-old information 149 given-new information╇  149, 168

hearer-old information╇ 149 shared information╇ 149, 161 intention╇ 2, 82, 99, 163–164, 166, 178, 181–184, 186, 188, 194–195, 197, 203 communicative intention╇  2, 164, 166 intentionality╇ 115–116, 120, 203, 233 interactional sociolinguistics╇  1–3, 68, 117, 122 interpersonal╇ 45, 71–72, 74, 129–131, 134–138, 140, 142–143 intersubjectivity╇ 118 interview╇ 6, 13, 46, 49, 51, 53–54, 62–63, 67, 72–79, 82–86, 88–89, 115–116, 121–122, 126–127, 136, 150 institutional interview╇ 3 media interview╇ 53, 72–73, 77, 84 news interview╇ 46, 53–54, 63, 67, 72–73, 88 political interview╇ 6, 54, 115–116, 121–122, 136 interruption╇ 5 M memory╇ 206, 208, 211, 213, 218, 220, 222–228, 231–233 long-term memory╇ 211, 218, 224–228 working memory╇ 222, 224–228, 232–233 metafunction╇ 75 militarizing language╇ 5, 41–43, 58, 61–62 modality╇ 5, 11–13, 18, 20, 22–23, 29–31, 36, 38, 133–134, 211, 216, 218, 221 deontic modality╇ 22–23 epistemic modality╇ 22, 133–134 mood╇ 23, 38 imperative╇ 20, 23–24 indicative╇ 19–20, 24, 54, 209 subjunctive╇ 20, 23, 25–27, 39 move╇ 6–7, 39, 45, 47, 55, 61, 63, 69, 76, 83, 119, 160, 165, 181, 183–190, 192–197, 200–202, 207

communicative move╇ 6–7, 181, 183–190, 192–197, 200–202 N negation╇ 147–148, 151–158, 160–163, 167 descriptive negation╇  147–148, 155–157 metalinguistic negation╇  147–148, 154–157, 167 O origo╇ 6, 94, 100, 105–106, 112, 115–116, 128–130, 136, 141 P participants╇ vii, 1, 4, 6, 11, 15–17, 34, 46–48, 62, 67–75, 79–81, 83–87, 95–96, 100, 102, 110–111, 118–119, 122, 124–125, 128–129, 136, 139, 148, 185, 190, 193, 221 parts-whole╇ 1–2, 69, 115 perfect╇ 18–19, 26–27, 32–33, 37, 39, 58, 107, 215 present perfect╇ 18–19, 26, 39 past perfect╇ 19, 26–27, 32–33, 39 politeness╇ 5, 21, 25, 77, 86, 89, 172, 179, 199, 202–203 polite╇ 87, 171–172, 178–179, 192 politic╇ 64, 77, 83, 86–87 presupposition╇ 45, 47, 152, 154, 161, 164, 167 process╇ 1, 3–4, 7, 17, 32, 46, 48– 51, 55, 67–70, 75, 93, 117–119, 149–150, 160, 183–185, 202, 205–218, 221–224, 227–232 argumentative process╇  221–223 action selection process  205, 210, 217, 221 coupling and decoupling process╇ 210, 217, 224 integration process╇ 228

238 Context and Contexts: Parts Meet Whole?

R rectification╇ 6, 50, 147–148, 158–162, 164–166 refutation╇ 6, 147–148, 158–162, 164–166 rejection╇ 151, 159, 168, 172 relational╇ 1–3, 6, 68, 115–116, 118–120, 128, 136, 143, 209, 229–230 relevance╇ 2–3, 8, 26, 75, 117, 121, 134, 137–138, 143, 145, 180, 209–210 conditional relevance╇ 3 representation╇ 8, 29, 51, 64, 144, 150, 152, 213, 223–228, 231–232 linguistic representation╇  8, 64, 144, 223–226, 231–232 S salience╇ 33, 208–209, 212, 214, 217, 223 selection╇ 7, 205–212, 214, 216–222, 224–225, 227, 229, 231–233 action selection╇ 7, 205, 207–212, 214, 216–222, 224–225, 232 attention selection╇ 205, 214, 217, 224, 227, 231

natural selection╇ 206, 229, 233 situation╇ 15, 19–21, 23, 45, 47, 53, 56, 62, 70–71, 74, 79, 83, 98, 101, 104–105, 109–110, 130, 132–133, 136, 142–143, 148, 158, 164, 172–179, 182–188, 191–196, 198–202, 207–211, 214–219, 222–225, 228–232 situatedness╇ 202 space╇ 42, 47–48, 56, 72, 78, 82, 94–95, 97–109, 111, 113–114, 128–142 actual space╇ 129 epistemic space╇ 129, 133, 139, 141 outside space╇ 98, 109 inside space╇ 98 social space╇ 106, 130–141 speech╇ 2–3, 5–6, 11–14, 16, 33, 36–38, 43–45, 47–48, 64, 69, 71, 73, 76, 109, 111, 114–116, 122–123, 126–128, 145, 148–149, 153, 163, 165, 171–172, 174–179, 181–188, 192–204 direct speech╇ 175 indirect speech╇ 6, 153, 171, 174, 178, 184, 203 speech situation ╇ 148, 183–6, 188, 192–6, 198–200, 202

systemic functional linguistics 44, 46, 70 T tense╇ 5, 11–13, 18–19, 22, 25–26, 28–29, 32–33, 35–38, 83, 107, 119, 121 future tense╇ 19, 107 past tense╇ 19, 32–33 present tense╇ 19 time╇ 2, 4, 15, 18–19, 22–23, 32, 37, 39, 41, 43, 46–48, 50–54, 56, 58, 61–62, 68, 72–73, 95–96, 100–101, 105–114, 118–121, 125–132, 135–143, 165, 175–176, 178, 210–211, 213, 217–218, 220, 225, 230, 232 actual time╇ 129 epistemic time╇ 129 turn-taking╇ 3, 5, 54, 75–77, 88–89, 124, 144 V variation╇ 3, 87, 103, 205, 215–217, 220, 222, 227–228, 231–232

Author index

A Aijmer╇ 149, 159, 166 Akman╇ 1, 7, 46, 63, 149, 166 Allport╇ 210, 233 Austin╇ 6, 44–45, 62, 65, 171, 178, 180–182, 186–191, 193–200, 202–203 B Bateson╇ 1, 7, 120–121, 129, 143 Bauman and Briggs╇ 17, 48, 50, 69–70 Berlin╇ 5, 37, 41–43, 47, 62–63, 112–114, 204 Bolívar╇ 46, 52–53, 55, 57, 59, 63–64 C Chilton╇ 53, 63, 122, 143 Clark╇ 149, 166, 187, 198, 203 D Damasio╇ 7, 205–207, 212–215, 221–222, 229, 233 Darwin╇ 206, 233 Deacon╇ 215–216, 218, 233 E Edelman╇ 7, 205–209, 213, 231, 233 Ericsson and Kintsch╇  223, 227–228

F Fairclough╇ 42–44, 47, 52–54, 62–63 Fetzer╇ 1, 3–4, 6–7, 11, 16, 18, 37, 43, 46–48, 63, 68–69, 88, 93, 112, 115–118, 122, 124–125, 143–144, 148, 163, 167, 181, 203, 206, 233 Fischer╇ vii, 4, 7, 112, 118, 144, 150, 167, 206, 233 Futuyma╇ 206, 229, 233 G Givón╇ 38, 154–155, 167, 206, 222, 233 Goffman╇ 3, 5, 7, 16, 37, 83, 85, 88, 117, 129, 144 Grice╇ 1, 8, 116, 120, 122, 144, 153, 163 Gumperz╇ 1, 3, 8, 17, 32, 36–37, 64, 69, 88, 116–117, 120, 128, 144–145 H Halliday╇ 15, 37, 44–45, 64, 71, 75, 88 Hanks╇ 68, 88, 116, 128–129, 144 Horn╇ 144, 148, 152–156, 158, 163, 167 Hymes╇ 3, 8, 15, 37, 45, 64 K Kahneman╇ 209, 224, 233

L Levinson╇ 1, 3–4, 8, 44, 64, 75, 89, 106, 113, 117, 122, 128–129, 144, 185, 203 M Mayr╇ 206, 233 Mey╇ 6, 11, 14, 37, 58, 64, 171, 174, 178–181, 187, 201, 203 Miller╇ 224, 233 S Sbisà╇ 14, 38, 44, 64, 181–182, 188–189, 198, 202–203 Searle╇ 14, 38, 44, 64, 119, 145, 181–184, 186, 194, 199, 202– 203, 208, 233 T Treisman╇ 209, 233 V van Dijk╇ 13, 16, 38, 42, 65, 70–71, 89, 129, 145

W Widdowson╇ 44, 65, 71, 89